#this is basically just a summary of what I have said before
Text
“secret keeping”
trevor zegras x f!hughes!reader
masterlist
part 2 to “caught”
summary: you and trevor got off easy after jack caught you together. it wasn’t hard to keep things on the down low for your other two brothers, but when summer rolls around and you’re all in the same house, it becomes more challenging.
THIS TOOK ME FOREVER OMG.
warnings: kissing, suggestive themes, teeny bit of angst, fluff, big brother quinn
It had been nine months since you and Trevor got together. For three of those months, Jack has known about your relationship.
You elected him as secret keeper, mainly because he was the only candidate, and if you gave it a fancy name, he would be more inclined to shut his mouth.
It worked pretty well. With hockey to keep Jack occupied, he didn’t have much of an issue with keeping the secret to himself.
When the season was over, however, it got a little tougher for him to keep quiet. He was constantly calling you up to ask if he could tell Luke, which you always denied. You were glad Quinn was in Vancouver for the time being, and not in close vicinity to Jack, because you knew that if he was, Jack would cave almost immediately.
So, this was a problem, as you would all be in very close proximity to each other for the summer.
You got to the house later than everyone else, so late, in fact, that it was dark out and the boys had a fire going out back.
You set your things down in your room before throwing on a hoodie and heading outside. They sat around the fire, talking amongst themselves. “Hey, boys,” you said, announcing your presence.
Trevor, who hadn’t seen you in a few weeks, grinned widely at your appearance and stood from his chair. He ignored the sounds of his friends greeting you as he made his was towards you.
He wrapped his arms tightly around you, closing his eyes as he inhaled the scent of you. You embraced him, semi-awkwardly as you watched Jack’s jaw basically drop from over Trevor’s shoulder.
You were the one to pull away, giving him a friendly punch on the arm. You gave him a warning look that said, ‘Remember where we are.’
Jack stood up next, hugging you and whispering in your ear, “That was one steamy hug.” He giggled as he pulled away, allowing Luke and Quinn to hug you next.
You greeted the other guys more casually with just a wave and sat down in the chair across from Trevor between Luke and Quinn.
“So, Y/n, any new installments in your life?” Jack asked, hiding his mischievous smile by taking a sip of his beer.
“What?” you said.
“Anything interesting going on?”
“Uh, work. And school,” you said, subtly glaring at him.
“No new men?” he asked innocently.
“Why are you so interested, freak?” you deflected.
Jack shrugged, a stupid grin on his face. “Just wondering.”
Quinn gave you and Jack an odd look before moving the conversation along. You were thankful to move on, and Trevor, who was making a show of counting stars, was surely thankful too.
Later that night, Trevor snuck out of his room and made his way down the hall to yours. When you let him in, his lips were on yours as soon as the door was closed.
His mouth moved against yours hungrily, his arms making their way around your waist as he guided you backward onto the bed.
The mattress hit your legs and made you sit. Trevor was bending down to kiss you, his hands moving to hold your face.
You held onto his forearms, forcing yourself to pull away and catch your breath. He leaned his forehead against yours as he caught his.
“I missed you, so much,” Trevor said. His hands still rested on your face, which was burning at this point.
“I know, I missed you too.” You guided his hands away from your face, holding them in your lap. He rose to his full height, looking down at you with a soft smile. “But, Trev, you gotta tone it down in front of the guys.”
Trevor rolled his eyes. “It was just a hug, babe.”
“Uh, to quote Jack it was ‘one steamy hug,’” you said.
“‘M sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” Trevor moved one hand out of yours and pushed some of your hair away from your face. “I just missed you. I forgot everyone else was there for a second.”
“It’s okay. I know you don’t like keeping this between us,” you said, feeling a little guilty.
Trevor shook his head. “No, baby. Whenever you’re ready, we’ll tell everyone else. I know you like things private.”
“My brothers are so fucking nosy. I have to.” You looked down at the floor, fidgeting with his fingers.
He laughed. “They are so fucking nosy. Of course, I want to let everyone know you’re mine. I want to be able to look in the stands and see you wearing my jersey. I want to be able to have my arm around you when we’re with your family. I want to be able to post you and to be seen with you. I want all of that, but I get that you’re not ready for it yet. In the meantime, I’m fine with this.”
He leaned down again to kiss you again, bringing his hand back up to your face as you held his other one. You leaned into his touch, pulling back after a moment.
You looked up into his blue eyes. He looked sleepy, the hood of his sweatshirt was up and, from under it, his hair was strewn across his forehead.
“Just give me a few more weeks to think about it, then we can talk, yeah?”
He grinned. “Sounds good, baby.”
He then practically tackled you onto the bed, pulling you on top of him. You tried to contain your giggles, not wanting anyone to wake up.
You rested your head on his chest, your arms wrapped around each other. He grabbed your blanket and placed it on top of you. You fell asleep like that.
The next morning, you woke up beside Trevor, his arm resting over your stomach as he laid on his and drooled into the pillow. You watched him sleep for a minute, his back rising and falling with each breath he took.
You turned over and picked up your phone, seeing that it was nine in the morning. Usually the boys slept in, but this was the first day at the lake, and they would want to get a head start on the day.
You heard voices from down the hall and begrudgingly got out of bed, gently lifting Trevor’s arm off of you.
You left him alone in the room, letting him get some more sleep. Walking into the kitchen, you greeted Jack, who sat at the island, sipping his coffee.
Cole was at the counter, pouring himself a cup. He saw you walk in and he grabbed you a mug and poured some for you too.
“Thanks, king.” You leaned against the counter as you drank it. Cole nodded before going to sit beside Jack.
Trevor walked in a few minutes later, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He passed by you to the coffee maker, his hand grazing against your stomach. You knew he did it on purpose, based on the way he smirked at you over his mug.
“Hey, man, I woke up this morning and you weren’t in the room. Where’d you go?” Cole asked.
Jack choked on his coffee and coughed violently, pounding his fist on his chest until he recovered.
Cole gave him a look before glancing back at Trevor. You and Trevor made eye contact, and he seemed to connect the dots.
“You!” He pointed at Trevor. “You sister fucker!”
“Jesus, Cole, what’s wrong with you?” you said, your face heating up. You were praying nobody else heard that.
“He’s a traitor,” Cole said, looking at Jack. “This is treason. She’s off limits.”
“Do you idiots actually talk about this?” You said, rolling your eyes.
“Uh, yeah, the first time I met you, I was actually threatened by Jack,” Coke explained. “Which brings me to my next point, did you know about this? How are you okay with this?”
Jack shrugged. “I would’ve liked if he asked for my blessing first, but there’s not a whole lot I can do about it now.”
“For the record,” Trevor cut in. “She came onto me first.”
You smacked him on the arm. “Shut up. We’re not talking about this anymore. Cole, keep your lips zipped. Nobody else can know.”
Cole protested weakly as you left the room. “But there’s so much that I don’t know! You can’t just leave it like that.”
You did leave it like that. You walked back into your room, changing into a different outfit and getting ready for the day, trying to forget about the whole thing.
As you were brushing your teeth, your phone started ringing. You spit out your toothpaste, accepted the call, and put it on speaker, not bothering to look at the caller ID. “Hello?”
“Y/n!” A high voice came from the other side of the phone.
“Oh, hi, mom.” You walked out of the bathroom into the room, seeing Trevor laying on the bed on his phone.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were dating Trevor?”
Your eyes blew wide and you almost threw the phone across the room. Trevor’s head snapped up from the bed.
You checked to make sure she didn’t switch it to FaceTime and saw him on the bed, and sure enough she didn’t. “Who said that?” you laughed nervously.
“Your brother! Jack left me a voicemail last night. He said he just had to tell somebody. How long have you been keeping this from us?”
“Uh, it’s coming up on 10 months,” you said as nonchalantly as possible. Of course Jack told your mom. You were going to kill him.
“Ten months?” She shouted. “If I could ground you, I would. You could’ve brought him to Christmas! Why didn’t you tell anyone? We all love him.”
You sighed loudly. “Quinn and Luke don’t know. Don’t tell them. I kept it a secret because I wanted some privacy. They have literally never been normal about me dating, and they’d be even worse if they knew about Trevor.”
She sighed. “It’s only because they love you. I respect your privacy, but you should’ve told me about this sooner.”
You bit the inside of your lip, looking guiltily at Trevor. “I know. I’m sorry. It got away from me.”
“That’s alright, honey. Call me back later and tell me everything. I want all the details,” she said excitedly before hanging up.
You groaned, flinging yourself onto the bed next to Trevor. “This could not get any worse. She definitely told my dad. He’s not weird like my brothers but he’s gonna embarrass me next time he sees you.”
“I would never find anything about you embarrassing.” Trevor said, setting his phone down and reaching out to play with the strings of your bikini. “It’s not the end of the world. We were talking about telling people last night.”
“I know, but I wanted a few more weeks of just us.”
“And Jack,” he added.
“Yeah, and Jack,” you said distastefully.
Throughout the next week, you had to resist the urge to beat the crap out of your brother. You tried drowning him in the lake the day that your mom called you, but he was a damn good swimmer, and he threatened to yell out the secret to everyone on the boat.
Jack never missed a chance to make fun of you or borderline expose you to everyone. He and Cole had a blast with blackmailing you. At least your brother had one person he could talk to about it. As long as it kept everyone else in the dark, you could do with the terrorization.
Cole didn’t tell anyone Trevor slept in your room every night, but he sure did tease you about it. It was getting annoying, really, and you were starting to care less and less about where you were seen and what you were seen doing.
With the few people who knew already, and your mother practically planning your wedding, you were seriously considering letting it all slip one day.
You were probably going to tell everyone soon enough. You knew Trevor was tired of it. He was only doing it for you.
The two of you managed kept up the charade in front of the boys, although he had a tendency to get a little handsy at times. It was very hard for him to keep his hands off of you when you couldn’t have sex often due to the chance of someone overhearing.
You were on the couch with him one day, the others out on a boat ride. You two stayed behind to watch the season finale of a show you both liked.
Well, you were watching it. Now, you were making out. You were on top of Trevor, straddling him and grabbing onto the back of the couch for balance.
He was holding onto your hips, his hand occasionally roaming to squeeze your ass. His lips were hot and rough on yours. He already took your shirt off, the heat being too much for you.
You hands slipped under the fabric of his shirt, silently urging him to take it off. You got lost in the feeling of his warm skin against your fingers.
You heard a crash and a very loud, “What the fuck?”
You lifted your head off of Trevor’s and spotted Luke over the coach, his mouth wide open and his plate shattered on the floor.
“Put your damn shirt on.” He begun picking up bits and pieces of the plate.
“Jesus Christ, Luke. I thought you were on the boat.” You grabbed your shirt from beside you. Trevor made a noise when your leg dragged across his crotch as you got off of him. He covered it with his hand and his face with his hat.
“I wanted to watch this too. Thanks for ruining it. Just because everyone is gone doesn’t mean you can defile the couch like this,” Luke said, completely ignoring Trevor and focusing on you. “Quinn’s gonna kill him.”
“Well good thing Quinn doesn’t know, right?” you said warningly.
“Of course, but if he were to find out. . .”
“I’d kill you, then. Don’t be a menace.”
“Don’t fuck on the couch, fucking freaks,” Luke scoffed, and headed outside, saying nothing more about it.
“He didn’t seem to care much,” Trevor muttered.
“He doesn’t care. He just likes to terrorize me. You wouldn’t take him for the demon the he is with how quiet he is all the time, but he’s the fucking devil, so watch out. It’s why I didn’t want to tell him.” You thought back to the time where he “accidentally” pushed your ex boyfriend down the stairs in high school. It’s safe to say that you didn’t want to relive that.
“Well, he certainly knows now,” Trevor said. “That’s two out of three brothers and probably the rest of the house at this point.”
“I’ll tell Quinn soon, just not today,” You promised. “And preferably not when you’re within close proximity to him.”
For the next couple of days, it became clear that Trevor was right. The whole house knew except for big brother Quinn.
They weren’t being super subtle about it either, but good thing Quinn wasn’t great at picking up hints.
You and Trevor were getting sloppy with hiding it since you didn’t have to fake anything in front of most of the guys, but when Quinn was in the room, things were tense between you, but very enjoyable for your other two brothers to watch.
Three days after Luke caught you on the couch, you were all on the boat going for a sunset cruise.
You kept up steady conversation about this and that. Trevor was telling a story that you weren’t really listening to until you heard him say your name.
“So then Y/n was all like ‘What’s the deal with this shit?’ and I was like ‘I have no fucking clue,’”
“Wait a minute,” Quinn interrupted, lifting a hand from the steering wheel. “Why was Y/n in Anaheim? I thought she was with her friends for spring break that week.”
Your heart literally dropped to your ass. This was not how you wanted Quinn to find out. You wanted to sit him down in a space away from Trevor and break the news to him delicately. Not on a boat that he was driving in the middle of the lake.
Trevor stared at him before stuttering out an excuse. “Uh, she wasn’t. I was wherever she was and we ran into each other.”
“She was in Cabo. You said this happened at Disney Land. You’re talking about a Minnie Mouse parade. Are you on something?”
Jack was looking at you like your hair was on fire and Luke was staring at the floor. The rest of the boys were pretending like this wasn’t happening and distracting themselves with miscellaneous objects on the boat.
“I’m not on anything. I’m stone cold sober.”
Nice one, Trevor.
“Y/n, why were you in Anaheim with him?” Quinn asked calmly.
You were about to speak when you made eye contact with Jack (who looked like he might explode), and he took the liberty of doing it for you.
“They’ve been together for basically a year, and a few months ago I caught them together, and now everyone knows but you, and it’s been really stressing me out,” he said quickly.
“Oh my god, Jack, you can’t keep anything to yourself!”
“Everybody knows!” he protested.
“He doesn’t!”
The boat was approaching the dock, and Quinn didn’t say anything as he lined it up. “I don’t care who you date, Y/n. Just be responsible.”
“You really don’t care?” You were a little bewildered that he was so chill.
“Nah,” He said, looking over you, making sure that Luke was ready to jump off and tie it up.
Once the boat was secure, you all filed out onto the dock.
“Trevor, come here for a second,” Quinn said.
Trevor looked at you and you nodded. “I’ll be in the house,” you said, gesturing to the guys who were almost there.
Quinn wasted no time walking right up to Trevor and shoving him off the dock. He landed in the water with a big splash and resurfaced looking shocked with his hair in his eyes.
Your mouth fell open and Quinn brushed past you on the dock. “Quinn! What the hell?”
“I thought Jack told him to stay away from you. Guess he’s not too smart if he can’t do that.” He didn’t look at you, continuing to the house.
“Quinn, stop!” He did, and he turned around. He looked angry. “I’m the one who wanted to keep it a secret this whole time, don’t blame him.”
“Seriously, Y/n, you could’ve chosen any man in the world to be with, and that’s your pick?”
“It’s not my fault! I really didn’t mean to!”
“That’s reassuring,” Trevor muttered, grabbing onto the dock and hoisting himself up, rolling onto his back. He coughed a few times before getting up and grabbing a towel from the boat.
Trevor tried walking past Quinn but he grabbed his arm. “If I hear one complaint from her about you, when I shove you in the lake, I’ll make sure you drown.”
Trevor nodded. “You got it, boss.” He ran into the house, catching up with Jack and Cole, who were trying very hard not to laugh at him.
You sighed, watching him go. “You didn’t have to do that, Quinn.”
“No, I didn’t. I wouldn’t have to if I knew about it sooner.” He paused, running a hand over his face as he thought of what to say. “You should’ve told me. I thought we agreed you could trust me with anything.”
“I do trust you, Quinn, but you guys always do this. You, Luke, and Jack always give the guys I date shit and it never works out. Pretty much every one of my exes broke up with me because they were scared of you three, as fucking stupid as that is,” you confessed. “I didn’t want it to happen with Trevor. You don’t get it. He’s different.”
Quinn looked you up and down, taking in the look on your flushed face. “You love him.”
“Yeah.”
“Then I’ll back off,” he said earnestly. “There are worse guys that you could be with.”
“That’s true,” you agreed. “So, are we good?”
“If you’ll let us be.”
You nodded. “Of course. Let’s go inside now, Quinny.”
He followed you into the living room where everyone else was, they all tried to act like they weren’t paying attention. Trevor stood from the couch, looking at Quinn before looking at you.
“We’re all good,” you said. “He’s not gonna harass you, don’t worry.”
“I will if she wants me to, so watch out,” Quinn said.
Trevor grinned as Quinn came over to shake his hand. Jack snorted and tried to cover it up with a cough.
Quinn took Trevor’s spot on the couch and you nodded your head toward your bedroom. Trevor followed you there, ignoring the whistles from the boys.
He shut the door behind him, letting the towel he was using drop to the floor. He hugged you, getting your coverup wet as his damp curls tickled your neck.
“Free at last,” he murmured into your skin, making you giggle.
“Okay, get off. You smell like the lake, you gotta shower.” You pushed his chest away from you.
He grinned mischievously. “Only if you shower with me.”
You couldn’t help the smile that made its way across your face as he reached under your coverup to pull at your bikini strings. “I don’t see why not.”
#birdiewriteslit#birdiewritesfics#nhl fic#nhl blurb#nhl imagine#nhl#trevor zegras oneshot#trevor zegras fic#trevor zegras x reader#trevor zegras imagine#trevor zegras#trevor zegras blurb#tz11#jack hughes#quinn hughes#luke hughes#hockey imagine#trevor zegras x you#trevor zegras x y/n
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Hello, would you mind writing a fic with Sicknat x reader on a mission? with phrases like: “I'm never sick” “it's just a little tired” “it's all Tony's fault. I will kill him” “take care of yourself” ?
Caring For A Widow
〚 Notes - Jeez, this request is old! I’m gonna try and get through some of my old ones over the next week :D I thought I'd start with this as I haven't written my fav redhead in a while! :) 〛
〚 Pairing - Natasha Romanoff x Reader 〛
〚 Summary - Natasha let's you take care of her when a mission goes sideways. 〛
〚 Wordcount - 1044 〛
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“I swear I’m gonna kill Tony.” Came the annoyed grumble from the redhead leaning against your chest, “This is his fault.” She sniffled, rubbing her nose roughly against the sleeve of her hoodie, rolling her eyes when you chided her for not using a tissue instead.
To be fair to her though, this wasn’t exactly the best of situations. You were both huddled in a tiny safe house in the middle of nowhere, having just narrowly escaped an ambush during your mission and to make things worse, Nat wasn’t feeling great.
She’d mentioned it in passing a few days ago that her throat had hurt but it had been such a busy few days you hadn’t thought to check up on her. Of course, she hadn’t told you when it had gotten worse, she was Natasha after all - as stoic as ever. But now she was here, miserably ill in a cold, unfamiliar house just longing to be back home.
“I’m never sick,” Nat mumbled solemnly, though her congested voice and the deepening circles under her eyes betrayed her. She curled tighter against you, seeking warmth in the drafty safe house.
“I know, I know,” You replied softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her clammy forehead. “Your timing sucks.”
She lifted her head just enough to shoot you a look but with the way she was cuddled against you, it held no malice behind it. “Have you told the team we need extraction already?” Nat changed the subject and pushed herself up a little to peer at the laptop which you’d been quietly working on as it sat on your knees.
You nodded, tilting the screen down so she could see it properly, “They know. Steve wants to be cautious of using air space since they clearly knew we were coming so he’s organising us a car instead.” The redhead stifled a yawn as you explained and you paused to lean down and press a gentle kiss to her forehead, “It’ll be a few hours before it arrives, so we’ve just got to camp out here for a bit.”
Natasha shivered against you a little, pulling her hoodie a little closer to her. “You can't shake those chills can you baby?”
“No.” She mumbled thickly, unable to hold back a second shiver.
She turned away to muffle a rough cough into her arm and you gave a sympathetic pout in return before having an idea, “Alright, stay put," You instructed gently, pressing a comforting kiss to her temple before carefully slipping out from beneath her.
You knew that she needed something to soothe that throat of hers, so what better than tea. The kitchen of the safe house was sparse, but you smiled to yourself as you managed to find a small kettle and some basic supplies. This’ll do.
You filled the kettle and set it to boil, whilst it began to heat up, you returned to Nat's side. "Come on sweetheart, let's get you into a hot bath," You said gently, offering her a hand to stand up.
The redhead hesitated, clearly not wanting to move from her spot. It was strange to see her so lethargic, “A bath?" She echoed, her voice hoarse and congested.
“Mhm.” Your hum of agreement was followed by small smile, “You like taking baths when you’re not feeling well.” She couldn’t argue with that, instead sniffled quietly before pushing her knuckles up to the underside of her nose before stifling a sharp sneeze.
“It’ll help clear up some of that congestion too.” You added when she groaned quietly to herself, sniffling at her red nose again. The safe house was small, that couldn’t be argued but at least this one was relatively modern meaning luckily for you two, the hot water was actually hot instead of barely lukewarm as many of the other houses had.
It didn’t take long to run. Once the bath was ready, you helped her ease into the tub. Natasha murmured a grateful “Thank you” and let out a small sigh as the warm water seemed to relieve the tension in her shoulders and muscles.
While she soaked, you returned to the tiny kitchen area, preparing the tea. You found some honey and added a generous spoonful, knowing it would soothe her sore throat. As the tea steeped, you went back to check on her.
"How are you feeling?" you asked, leaning against the old, wooden doorframe.
Natasha had her eyes closed, the steam from the bath working wonders on her congestion. "Better," she admitted, her voice already sounding a touch clearer. "Thank you."
“Don’t fall asleep in there, let me know if you need anything, okay?” You smiled and left her to relax for a while longer, returning to pour the tea into a mug. You knew Nat appreciated everything you were doing to take care of her, but you also knew how important it was for her to decompress alone for a little.
By the time she emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel with damp hair clinging to her neck, you were waiting with the warm drink in hand.
She accepted the mug gratefully, taking a careful sip. "This is nice," she murmured, her voice softening a little as her sleepy eyes blinked to keep herself focused. You knew the residual heat from the bath and the tea were probably making her tired.
"Good," You smiled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and guiding her back to the makeshift bed. "Now, let's get you wrapped up in some blankets and you can nap until extraction gets here.”
It seemed she was too tired to argue about napping (she usually would make a fuss about wanting to be on alert just incase) and instead, she allowed you to tend to her a little as you tucked her in. Natasha settled against the pillows; the tea cradled in her hands. You sat beside her, one hand gently stroking her damp hair.
"I still want to kill Tony," She mumbled sleepily, though there was no real bite in her words, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before she fell asleep against you.
You chuckled softly, kissing her forehead once more, “We'll save that for when you're feeling better."
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#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff x fem!reader#natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff x y/n#natasha romanoff x you#natasha romanoff fanfic#sickfic#fluff#whump#comfort#marvel#mcu#natasha romanoff sickfic#natasha romanoff fluff#natasha x reader#natasha romanoff comfort#natasha romanoff imagine
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Safest with You - Ch. 16 (The Matchup)
8.4K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader
Summary: Din comes out of retirement for an unsanctioned boxing match.
Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Poe is Poe, light violence (non-graphic), boxing match physicality described (by someone who doesn't really know anything about boxing), some machismo and testosterone fueled talk, allusion to thigh riding, semi public sex, established relationship, oral (m receiving), light face fucking, unprotected PiV, recorded sex, panty gag, dirty talk, pet names as usual (pretty bird, baby, sweetheart, etc.), degradation (slut/whore; affectionate), Paz and Din each give reader a little boost/lift once, reader wears a dress.
A/N: Oof! The word count on this one really got away from me - mainly cause it got dirty as heck at the end 🫥 Hope the tension between the clans comes through even though this primarily devolved into filth🤞🏻 And if anyone is wondering, my hc for Al's attack command is "Dracarys" 🤭🤭 Dividers by the awesome @saradika-graphics 🥰
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(I think this is my favourite chapter I've written 🥹 It used to be The Drycleaner, now I think it's this one.)
“Pretty bird, everything will be okay.”
It seems like unretiring is all the rage these days. First, with the amount of time Din’s been spending working with the Mandos to help contain the recent unrest, you basically consider him to have unofficially unretired. And now this: an unsanctioned boxing match. You could kill Poe.
There had been a commotion brewing outside Mando’s when you approached with Al earlier this afternoon. From a few blocks away, you saw two men facing off, speaking aggressively - the tension in their body language evident even from a distance. Flanking each man were several others, posed to jump in if the confrontation went beyond words. Once closer, you realized that one of the men having words was Poe and the people standing behind him were Paz and Din - the faces of all three men furrowed and serious.
Remembering what Paz had once said about how he and Din used to have to bail out Poe’s big mouth, you wonder if that’s what’s happening now.
When Din sees you, he takes out his phone and sends off a quick text: Go inside please, pretty bird.
You nod when you see the message and head straight for the side door entrance to Din’s place; you’ve almost got your key in the lock when you hear someone speak out, “Nice to see you again, sweetheart.”
You’re not sure where he came from, but you recognize the slimy sneer of one Gorga Hutt right away. He’s walking towards you without any heed to the situation playing out only a few meters away; from the corner of your eye you see Din turn, ready to come and intervene, but you’ve got this. You’ve just come from Peli’s and listened sympathetically as she ranted about the recent attack of vandalism on her shop, you were not in any mood to tolerate men who enjoyed attempting to intimidate a woman. Whispering the trained command into your dog’s ear, you hold on tight to the leash as Alfredo goes absolutely bonkers, snarling and snapping his jaws while growling viciously. The effect is instantaneous – Al’s booming barks silence whatever is happening between the men in front of the gym, and Gorga quickly rejoins them, forced to walk backwards as you advance, holding taut the leash that’s being pulled by your attacking dog. When you step to Din’s side, you pull up and lean down to pet Al’s head, whispering the stop command he so perfectly learned; and just like that, Al stops barking and sits, the only noises from him are happy pants as he absorbs your praise and ear scratches.
Wordlessly, you give Din a kiss on the cheek and turn to go upstairs to the apartment like you had originally planned. As you get to the front door you hear:
“If only Mando’s boxers had that kind of attack in the ring.”
“Fuck you.”
Poe’s incredulous response is the last thing you hear before the door closes behind you. Upstairs, heart still pounding, you focus on getting Al fresh water and giving him soothing pets to help him calm down. The attack command was one that you had worked hard on with your trainer, but you rarely use it (if ever), because of the stress it puts the dog under.
Din enters the apartment half an hour later to find you and Al snugging on the sofa, your face buried in the soft neck scruff of your dog while he rests his snoozy head on yours.
“Hey pretty bird, you and Al okay?”
“Mhhmmmm,” you mumble, face full of fur. You feel the couch dip near your head as Din sits down and then you feel his big rough hands start to gently stroke your hair; you’re positive Al is getting the same treatment. When you look up, you’re stunned to see that Din has the beginnings of a swollen lip and a little cut near the upper left corner of his mouth.
“Din!” you immediately sit up and scramble into his lap to check the rest of him over.
“I’m okay, baby, don’t worry. This,” he points to his lip, “is friendly fire. Courtesy of an overexcited Poe.”
“Geez Louise,” you shake your head, “but it ended with fists, whatever was going on downstairs?”
Sighing, Din leans back and presses the heel of his palms to his eyes, “As it often does when Poe gets feisty.”
Apparently, when Poe had pulled up to the gym today, he had spotted two lower-level Hutt family members milling around on the same block, seemingly doing nothing. Tensions running high from the recent incidents of mischief, Poe had accused them of having less than innocent motives for hanging out where they were. The shouting match escalated to where a few Mandos had come out from the gym to see what was happening and a few Hutts had driven up to back up their brethren.
Then, apparently, Poe had been likened to a chihuahua whose only useful purpose was to “use his yap” to summon his guard dogs, which had set off a string of verbal diatribes where Poe, defending his little chihuahua honour, had disparaged the physical prowess and effectiveness of the Hutt family’s own “dogs” and the lackluster success of their business ventures. Being Poe, he needled in on the Hutt’s inability to produce any serious contenders on the boxing circuit recently, a known sore spot for the Hutts. This led to a proverbial pissing contest where Hutt and Mando’s past and current fighters were compared, more insults were thrown, eventually escalating until the Hutts decided that they would very much like to demonstrate some of these fighting skills that they were being accused of lacking.
You had shown up and left right before things had gotten physical.
A short fisticuffs then ensued where the main challenge for Din and Paz had been holding Poe back and making sure he didn’t get beat; an errant swing from Poe when Din had pulled him away to avoid an incoming punch was responsible for Din’s swollen lip.
By now, you’ve retrieved a little bag of ice and are holding it up to Din’s lip as he tells you how it all ended. While still struggling in Paz’s arms, Poe had spit out a challenge: any fighter from Mando’s gym could take on the Hutt’s best fighter, weight class or fight experience be damned. Gorga had sneered, ‘Any?’ before proposing a bout between the Hutt’s current top fighter and Din, knowing that it’s been years since Din fought professionally. Caught up in his own pride and that of the Fetts and Mando’s, Poe had shook on it.
You’re in shock. You don’t even know anything about the other fighter, but you can’t imagine it’s fair to pit someone who’s in the prime of their career against someone who hasn’t seen the inside of a competitive ring for years, no matter how good of a fighter they are.
“How are you so calm about this?” you’re already filled with anxiety and worry. Din takes the bag of ice from you and sets it aside, raising your hand to his lip, he gives your knuckles a few ginger kisses.
“Pretty bird, everything will be okay. It’s a fight. It’s nothing I haven’t done before. I’ll train, I’ll fight, I’ll win. Sure, it might be harder or different than it used to be, but I’ll train harder, fight harder, win harder. My body knows how to do this.”
That’s true, you suppose. Din’s in excellent shape, it’s not like his body’s been languid and idle; he’s not starting from square one, he just has to remind his body what it needs to do to win. “Okay,” you breathe, “so we train.” Din smiles and repeats back to you, “We train.”
And train he does. Over the next several weeks, Din’s regimen is strict - his daytime work at the gym is replaced with physical training: cardio for endurance, weights for strength, sparring with each and every boxer at Mando’s to keep his technique on its toes. He’s given some reprieve from any nighttime security duties so he can get the rest his body needs, and for this you’re infinitely grateful.
Sadly, you have to stop baking sweet treats for the gym, but instead, spend your time in the kitchen making high protein and carb-based meals to help Din bulk up and stay lean. You bemoan whenever a little bit of his soft tummy disappears. You and Al practically move in during this time so that Din stay focused, but mainly so you can take care of him; you suspected that with all the training and prep for the match, Din would neglect proper self care at the end of his tiring day. After a long day of training, you make sure he takes long soothing baths to relax and soothe his overworked muscles, and not just short showers to get cleaned quickly. When you start to notice that Din’s daytime showers are leaving his hair dry from the constant shampooing, you bring over your expensive salon-quality hair care products and condition his locks and massage in hair masks all while he lays in the steaming water, eyes closed with his head on your chest. After you dry him off, Din grinning the entire time you very meticulously rub him down, you’ll wrap the towel low on his hips and shoo him to the bedroom with instructions to lay facedown on the bed.
Lathering him up in massage oil, you push and pull at the long lines of his muscles, working out the tension and kneading his knots, victorious when you feel him melt under your firm and loving touch. You work your nimble fingers down the strong, corded muscles of his arms and the broad expanse of his back, paying extra attention to where his smooth skin dimples at the base of his spine.
You work diligently and attentively as you straddle his bare ass, and though your intentions are altruistic, inevitably, Din will feel your wetness even through the slippery oil you’ve massaged over his backside. That’s when he’ll catch you off guard - flipping you over and pinning you beneath him with the weight of his body within the cage of his strong arms.
Some nights you’ll let him win, allowing him to smirk, “Your turn, pretty bird,” before giving him access to your body and letting him pull the most delicious orgasm from you with his talented mouth and fingers. As a follow-up, he rails you face down into his mattress, leaving you crying and drooling as you come, fluttering around his cock before he paints your walls white.
Other nights, you’ll gently scold him before slowly rolling him back onto his front and climb back on top of him, continuing to massage his overworked body with your hands - pressing and warming his muscles under your skilled fingers as you grind yourself down on the back of his thigh until you come. Then, and only then, will you let him roll onto his back, just so he can watch you sink your dripping wet cunt down onto his weeping cock and ride him until you both see stars.
The night of the fight finally arrives and you think you and Poe are more nervous than anyone else. It’s not that you doubt Din’s skill or fighting prowess, you’re just anxious knowing there’s some Hutt in the building whose sole goal tonight is to beat the shit out of your boyfriend. You’re in the back hallways of the venue where you first met Greef and Jimmy many months ago, but this time you’re the one who led people down the hall to meet the group. Bea and Lala are here with you tonight, to cheer on Din of course, but mainly as your emotional support; they know how much this matchup has been stressing you out. Thankfully, as you watch Greef and Din laughing with Jimmy and Paz, and all the Mandos getting hyped for the fight, you find yourself getting swept up in their enthusiasm.
When the time comes for you to go to your seats, you sidle up to Din and gentle pull him away from the group so you can have a little privacy.
“I’m proud of you, baby,” you whisper, lifting up on your tip toes while you pull him down with gentle hands around his neck.
Pressing his forehead to yours, Din closes his eyes, reveling in this moment of calm with you before what is certain to be a night of chaos, “Thank you, pretty bird. Couldn’t have done any of this without you.”
“You’re gonna do great, Din. You’re my killer.” Your lips ghost his and Din sucks in your breath, pulling you closer with his wrapped hands spread wide across your lower back, “… and when you win…”
“You gonna give me a prize, sweetheart?” Din smiles against your mouth.
You nod into his mouth, “… I’ll let you take your prize right in this locker room here.” The two of you both glance at the door next to you before reuniting your lips for a deep, searing kiss that manages to simultaneously reassure and ignite an electrical current within you.
“Hey! Save that for after the fight!” yells Greef. You and Din break apart with a chuckle and you leave him with a “Good luck, killer! I love you!” blowing him a kiss before taking off down the hall with your friends and Paz.
---
The roar of the crowd is deafening. Despite this being an unsanctioned match, spectators have showed up in droves - drawn in by Din’s celebrated fight history, the underlying clan rivalry, or both.
When Din and the contingent from Mando’s make their ring entrance, the noise level crescendos; you hold on tight to Bea and Lala’s hands and catch Paz’s eye with your own, shining bright with pride as you cheer loud. Somehow Din discerns your voice over the clamour and as he passes your row looking calm and formidable, he finds you and his eyes soften just long enough to throw you a wink before settling back into a steely glare. Jimmy, on the other hand, follows behind Greef all pumping fists and testosterone fueled howls. He hypes up the crowd even more, reaching in to fist bump you and the girls before accepting a hair tousle from Paz’s long reaching arm.
The crowd remains loud but slightly more subdued for the entrance of Din’s opponent, Rotta Hutt. He’s young, around Jimmy’s age, but way bigger than both Jimmy and Din. He’s Din’s height if not taller, with most of his heft on display as a wall of muscle in the upper half of his body. His arms are tree trunks. His face is impassive but you spy a small curl of a sneer framed by his clean-shaven jaw; all of this topped with a mop of blond hair swept over the front of a high forehead. He looks… sturdy and you can’t help but recoil a little in your seat when you recognize the same sluggish look that you find is common among the Hutts that you’ve met. Lala and Bea both make faces that clearly indicate where their loyalties lie. Paz points out Rotta’s coach who’s walking close behind the boxer, hands on the boy’s shoulders, whispering in his ear, “That’s Ziro Hutt. He’s a piece of shit. Guarantee you he’s telling Rotta to fight dirty and pull some illegal moves on our boy since it’s an unsanctioned fight.”
You look at Paz with alarm, but he’s grinning, “Don’t worry, Lil’ Lady. Din’s got that punk’s number.”
As the fighters go to their respective corners for last-minute pep talks, your gaze shifts over to the crowd on the other side of the ring where you see a continent of Hutts that includes Gorga and his usual lackies. They’re amped and you can feel a sinister charge to the energy emanating from that side of the room.
The fighters and their coaches meet in the middle of the ring with the referee as is customary before the coaches retreat back to their corners for the start of the match, but before that happens, all hell breaks loose. You see Din’s face curl into a snarl before he lunges for Ziro, shoving the slimy man right in his chest with a force that knocks him into the ground; Rotta attempts to retaliate with a punch to Din’s head, and then it’s just a flurry of bodies: the ref trying to get in between, Greef pulling Din off Rotta, Ziro somehow getting up and mixing right back in. The Hutts on the other side of the ring are up on their feet, jeering, some even advancing towards the ring. Paz is on his feet and you see the rest of the Mandos do the same from their seats peppered throughout the stands.
The ref directs everyone back to their corners; you see Greef wrangling Din, turning him to face his corner stool before giving him a little shove in that direction. You don’t know what happened but you know Din must have been provoked; he can’t start the fight in this uncontrolled rage, it won’t fare well if he’s not in a calm, focused mindset. You make your way ringside and reach up, finger tips brushing gently on Din’s arm.
What you didn’t know is that right before the ref was about to send the coaches back to their corners, Ziro had sneered to Din, “When you lose, how about that pretty girl of yours come spend the night with a fighter that isn’t past his prime? Someone who has some stamina?”
Din was still seeing red that that asshole even mentioned you, seething with adrenaline fuelled protectiveness. And possessiveness. His chest is still rising with each heavy breath, agitation rolling over his entire body in waves; he’s barely registering Greef’s words about calming down, when he feels a soft warmth on his arm. He looks down and it’s you. You with your soft smile and pretty eyes, exuding calm and sweetness. Instantly, his breathing evens and his heartrate slows.
“Hey pretty bird, things are getting crazy,” he gives you a little lopsided smile, as if the two of you are the only people in this building, your presence drowning out all the outside noise for him.
You laugh and Din feels his muscles release some tension just at the sound; it’s too awkward for him to lean down and kiss you, but you reach up with both hands and grab on to his wrists, bringing his gloves down so you can lift up and kiss them. A good luck smooch to each, leaving a lipstick imprint of your perfect lips on each. Din grins at you.
“Now when you hit that idiot, it’ll be from the both of us,” you chuckle, and again, it’s like there’s no one else here – just you and Din alone in this yelling crowd, eyes and ears only for each other, “Din, don’t let them get in your head, they don’t want you thinking straight cause they know you’re smarter than all the Hutt braincells combined. Focus and save your energy, killer.”
“You got it, pretty bird,” he flashes you a devastatingly handsome smile, the one that makes your stomach drop every time and tonight’s no exception, you mouth “Love you” before walking backwards to your seat, never breaking eye contact with your man as he mouths it back.
By the time the ref calls the fighters back to the centre of the ring to touch gloves, Din’s back to his steely cool self, focused and calm - ready to take on the world. He looks so fucking good, the lights shining off his broad shoulders, the strong lines of his muscles flexing and pulsating with each breath. You mourn the loss of his soft stomach, but suppose if you have to live with this harder trunk of an upper body, you will. You sigh and Bea leans over to tell you that you’re drooling a little – you giggle out loud.
The ref announces, rather than requests, that it will be a “nice clean fight”; Din and Rotta touch gloves and with a ding the fight starts.
For the first few rounds, you’re learning Rotta’s fighting style and you know Din is doing the same, getting a feel for the younger man’s style, ticks and weaknesses. Rotta’s light on his feet for someone so big, but Din is faster. Though Din is older and the frame that he has to move is just as large, his experience in the ring has his muscles well trained, his moves executed by memory alone. Din anticipates where Rotta will be before Rotta even knows, and his body just follows.
It’s clear by the third round that Rotta favours a right hook, which Din finds easy enough to deflect and more than once is able to combine this knowledge with the Mando roll to devastating effect. You cheer loudly when you watch Din extend his long right arm in a precisely landed cross punch, retracting it lightning fast with grace as Rotta staggers backwards.
Where Rotta is a threat is his sheer power - pound for pound, punch for punch, he’s Din’s match. His size and bulk have the potential to inflict real damage, if Din wasn’t the overall better fighter – Din’s experience and technique are too well honed; Rotta is consistently caught off guard by Din’s moves, and his own in response are amateurish and predictable. And he’s getting tired - the Mando Roll is making quick work of him. Poe was right – the Hutt's best boxer couldn’t hold a candle to a Mando’s boxer, certainly not this one.
By the time the 8th round starts, Rotta is getting frustrated, and as Paz predicted, has started fighting dirty. He’s pushing and shoving Din into the ropes and attempting to hold him, anything to stall the fight and prevent Din from getting in the combinations that would surely finish him off. When Rotta barrels head first into Din’s chest, wrapping his arms around Din’s torso and starts to punch his lower back, you’re on your feet and screaming for the foul call before the ref even blows his whistle. You’re seething - that dirty cheat!! Rushing over to where Din is drinking from his water bottle, you reach up and touch his leg to get his attention. He grins immediately upon seeing you, calming your heart a little.
“You look like you’re going to kill someone, pretty bird,” laughs Din, his voice once again drowning out all the external noise so that it’s just you and him again.
“That neanderthal is going to get it from me if he doesn’t stop with all his dirty shit,” you hiss, though your eyes remain all adoring for Din. Even when sweaty from head to toe, the impressive cut of his body still takes your breath away. Fuck, he’s hot.
“Sounds like I'd be doing him a kindness by knocking him out, then,” grins Din, and the two of you smile at each other dopily, sharing in your little jokes while the crowd around you gets more and more riled up.
“I wish I could reach you,” you lament, pouting.
“Let me help,” Paz has appeared right behind you, no doubt to provide some encouragement for his friend. With your permission, he crouches and wraps his arm around your calves, and after you’ve steadied your hand on his shoulder, he boosts and deposits you so you’re sitting on the edge of the ring. You don’t know how much time you have before the match starts again; wasting no time, you reach through the ropes and grab Din’s face, pulling him towards you so you can kiss him through the slit. The kiss is hard, heady and messy, but it’s exactly what you and Din both need. “Put him out of his misery, killer!” you shout back as you jump down, sending Din a wink before leaving him, Paz and Greef to talk shop.
When the fight resumes, Din quickly finds that he’s had enough. The younger boxer isn’t stopping with the illegal moves, starting to throw elbows and attempting to kick. Clearly on the advice of his uncle, Rotta has foolishly decided that if he can’t win fairly, then he will do everything he can to frustrate Din, be it by stalling the fight, attacking him illegally, or messing up Din’s focus like his uncle did at the start of the match. No doubt hoping Din will finally make a mistake and open himself up to a late attack.
After Din gets in two quick jabs that Rotta isn’t fast enough to evade, Rotta staggers back, eyes unfocused, and when he shifts forward again, he spits out, “Your girl is real pretty.”
Din ignores him and hits Rotta square in the jaw with a blinding cross.
Swaying to the side, Rotta doesn’t know when to quit, “She’d look even prettier with my cock in her mou-”
You think you actually hear the sound that Din’s upper cut makes when his glove hits Rotta's chin. The crowd silent as the crushing power of Din’s fist reverberates through the layers between it and his opponent's jaw, the unmistakable sound of bone being crushed rings through the venue.
It’s only with the resounding thud of Rotta’s body hitting the floor of the ring that the crowd reawakens, screaming at an ear-splitting volume - some for the loser to get up, and others in victory. Din looks animalistic, still bouncing on his feet and panting, as if waiting for Rotta to get up. Rotta is not getting up.
After Din is declared the winner of the fight, arm raised high by the ref while still towering over the unconscious body of his opponent laying at his feet, he’s smartly ushered off to the locker room by Greef and Paz. Not that Din's the type to gloat and boast in an unsportsmanlike manner (Poe doing enough of that all on his own at the moment), but the mood in the arena is incendiary at the moment, clearly you’re not the only one that thinks getting out of here is a good idea. That doesn’t stop Din from reaching into your row as he goes by and pulling you in hard by the waist for a bruising victory kiss. In his arms for only a few moments before he has to go, Din lifts you off your feet – his own little trophy to show off as you gaze down at him in adoration, mouthing, “I’m proud of you.”
You and the girls chat excitedly with Bo and Mayfeld as you practically skip back down the back hallway towards where some of the other Mandos and people from the gym are celebrating. Leaving your friends in the capable hands of the Mandos, you sidle past Jimmy who’s standing guard and give him a cheeky grin before you push open the door to the locker room where Din’s currently showering.
When Din steps out of the shower, he’s only mildly surprised to find you there, sitting casually with your legs up on a bench, back against the lockers, strolling through your phone like it was the most natural thing in the world for you to be in a men’s locker room.
Looking up, you feel your heart nearly stop at the sight before you: Din’s looking at you with a devilishly handsome smile, hair still wet from the shower, which he’s lazily toweling off. Another towel hangs loosely over his hips, leaving his massive chest uncovered; droplets of water clinging to the bare expanse of his torso and glisten like tiny diamonds. His arms, loose after his fight, still look powerful even when relaxed, thick muscles corded under his smooth skin. He’s a fucking snack.
You want to climb him like a tree and sink your teeth into his skin; it's not an imagined ache that has you suddenly desperate to feel any and all the muscles in his arms, chest, legs, flex against your pussy while you ride them until you cry.
Spacing out with what must be a look of pure lust written all over your face, you start when Din’s deep baritone cuts through your horny thoughts, “What are you doing here, pretty bird?”
Beckoning him over to you with a curl of your finger, you smile coyly, and when he’s within arm’s length reach, you hand him your phone, “Come collect your prize, killer.”
Looking at you, then back to your phone with a confused expression on his face, Din cocks an eyebrow at you quizzically.
You plant your legs on either side of the bench and reach up and grab onto Din’s hips, guiding him towards you so he’s stands in front of you, similarly straddling the bench. Looking up at him with an innocent doe-eyed expression, you coo, “Let’s make a video, daddy.”
Din’s eyes widen; the two of you had discussed making a sex tape before, but made no concrete plans on when you would film one - apparently, you want to memorialize him claiming his prize for winning the fight. Testosterone and adrenaline still coursing through his veins, Din puffs his chest out, ready to perform.
He opens up the camera app of your phone and swipes to video mode, framing your pretty face on the screen as you smile up at him, he strokes your chin with his free hand, “Ready, pretty bird?”
You nod - when you hear the bloop of the video starting, you dip your chin down to capture Din’s thumb in your mouth and start to suck, eyes never breaking from the camera.
“Such a good girl, here to reward your daddy.”
You smile with your lips wrapped around his thumb as you pull off Din’s towel, his cock already at half mast, bobbing out towards your face. Din removes his thumb from your mouth and brushes your jaw with his fingers, as if to say go on.
Reaching out, you give Din’s length a few experimental strokes in your small grip before bringing him to your lips, gifting his tip a few shy kitten licks.
“Fuck, baby.”
Flattening your tongue, you run it along the underside of his cock from base to tip, lathering him up with your spit; pumping him a few more times you purr to the camera, “May I please suck your cock, Din?”
Din’s groan thunders through his chest, “Show me what you’ve got, pretty bird.”
Your mouth envelope over Din’s cock, taking as much of him as you can to the back your throat, bobbing your head slowly, giving his head a little extra lick when his tip rests between your pretty lips. Feeling him swell and harden in your mouth, you apply a little more pressure, suck him a little harder, a little bit faster, both of your hands working the base of him that you can’t fit in your mouth.
“Look so pretty with your mouth stuffed with my cock, sweetheart.”
You look past the camera and into Din’s eyes, lustful and blown, and decide to really give him a show. Eyes back on the camera, you smile around Din’s dick and place your hands on his thighs to brace yourself before you start to work him down your throat. Once he's hit the back of your throat, when you have to force yourself to push past the resistance, you gag, and you immediately feel Din’s hand fly to the back of your head, as if to provide you some reassurance or to hold you steady. You appreciate both. Forcing yourself to breath through your nose, you relax your throat and push yourself further down on Din’s throbbing cock, spurned on by Din’s moans echoing off the walls of the empty room. When you finally feel the hairs at his base tickle your nose, you open your eyes and find Din staring at the screen of your camera, looking absolutely wrecked. One hand cups and plays with his balls as you give a small hum of satisfaction, proud of taking him all the way; the combination sensation causes Din’s dick to twitch in your throat and you have to pull off, coughing, spit spilling out of your mouth.
Din pets your hair and looks at you with obsidian dark eyes, “One more time, little slut. Wanna feel my cock right here,” and he reaches down to wrap his hand gently around the middle of your neck.
“Can you be good for daddy?”
Not trusting your voice, you nod, but Din wants more for the camera.
“Need my pretty whore to use her words.”
“Yes, daddy. I can be good for you,” you breathe, as you open up your mouth and stick your tongue out as an invitation.
“Goddamit. You’re going to be the death of me, pretty girl,” Din taps his fat head on your tongue before feeding it slowly to you. Once again, you use Din’s legs for stability, hugging the back of his thighs as you relax and work his length further down your throat. A little easier this time having already opened up for him, you keep your eyes on the camera as you try to even your breathing, coaxing his dick deeper and deeper. When he’s all the way down, Din runs his thumb gently over the column of your throat, and chokes, “Took me so deep, baby. So fucking good for me.”
Eyes watery with tears already running down your cheeks, you can only blink up at him in a daze.
“Can I fuck you a little, bunny?” Din asks so softly. Such a distinct contrast from the lewdness of having his cock shoved down your throat, you feel his tone hit right in your core where your arousal is already starting to leak; you blink quickly to give your permission.
At first, Din is slow to thrust even a little down your throat, careful not push too much or too harshly should it hurt you; when you blink at him and let the tears rolling down your face tell him that you can take more, he holds you head firm and speeds up a little. The ensuing gulg gulg gulg noises your throat makes bounce off the walls and light up your insides - you start to roll your hips and grind your pussy down on the bench for some semblance of friction.
When Din notices, he pulls out and leaves you gasping and continuing to rub yourself down on your seat. Using the hand not holding the still recording phone to help wipe away your tears and spit, he chuckles, “Does my pretty slut need something between those legs of hers?”
Fresh faced and eyes bright, you’re positively strumming for Din’s touch by now. You lean back on your elbows, bite your lower lips and whimper. That’s apparently enough for Din, as he sits down on the bench, murmuring to himself and the camera, “What do we have up here, little bun?” He pushes up your skirt and takes an upskirt shot of your soaked through black panties, “Looks like my little cumslut is all wet.”
He smirks as he reaches and rubs his thumb over your clit through the fabric, causing you to gasp, “Daddy!”
“I wonder if you’re just as wet under these lacy panties?” He hooks the gusset of your underwear to the side, revealing your glistening cunt and gives a low whistle, “So fucking pretty. Who are you so wet for, baby?”
“You!” you whine, wanting more. Needing more.
“Who? Is this for that other fighter?”
“No! Daddy!”
“Is it for those guys across the ring that couldn’t keep their eyes off of you?”
“No! Din, no! It’s only for you, please!”
“That’s right, this perfect pussy is all mine.”
“All yours, Din! Please, oh god, please touch me…”
“Well since you asked so nice, sweetheart,” Din inhales sharply as he backs up on the bench and leans down to bring himself face to face with your dripping seam. He hands you your phone and smirks, “Gonna need both my hands for this.”
You train the lens onto Din and frame his handsome face in the shot so that everything below the tip of his nose is hidden by your lower body; making sure you’re capturing the moment, Din gives you a wink before diving into your cunt. He eats you like a feral animal who doesn’t know where his next meal is coming from. Licking, sniping, and mouthing at every wave and dip of your core, then pushing your legs up by the back of your thighs so he can press even deeper into you. You cry out and moan with abandon, your hands too occupied with holding the camera and yourself upright to stifle the noise.
“Fuck, yes, Din – fuck I love your mouth,” your screams dancing over the wet sounds coming from between your legs. Din dips his tongue into your tight hole, fucking you with his smooth muscle while his nose bounces off your clit over and over until it’s hard and swollen. The band beneath your belly is starting to tighten, and all the blood in your body rushes to your bottom half so you can’t hold yourself up anymore – you lay down and use all the focus and strength you have left to hold the camera steady with both hands between the valley of your breast. You watch Din’s now dried curls bounce on the screen as he continues to tongue fuck you into another stratosphere.
Your never ending chat of Daddy, daddy, daddy, is broken only by the high-pitched cry you let loose when Din replaces his tongue with two of his thick fingers without warning, you hiss, “Din!” Half scolding, half in ecstasy.
“Sorry, baby,” he mumbles, but you can feel him grin against your pussy; the vibration of his words shoot straight to your chest and you feel a fresh wave of slick wash down your inner thighs and Din’s wrist.
“Fucking soak me, pretty bird,” Din commands before sucking your clit into his mouth. The sounds Din is pulling from you are obscene and downright pornographic, you sing obscenities and his name so loud they almost drown out the squelching sounds of his fingers punishing your cunt.
All it takes is for you to look down at the screen of the phone still grasp tight in your hands, take in the vigor with which Din is eating you out, his dark eyes on you as he swirls his tongue over your clit and you’re gone - arching your back off the bench and screaming, “Daddy!” as you gush all over his face. Din continues to finger fuck you through your high, the camera held in your shaky hands capturing the soft butterfly kisses he plants all over your lower stomach while praising you, “Did so good for me, pretty girl. My perfect little slut.”
Sighing a heavy exhale of contentment, you let Din pull you up and kiss you messily, his mouth and scruff shiny with your release. You giggle as you taste yourself on him, putting the phone down so you can cup his face in your hands, helping him clean up even as you make more mess with your hungry open mouth kisses.
“Uh, uh,” Din tuts as he pulls away, pointing at the phone, “pick that up, bunny. We’re not done yet.”
You do as he instructs and pick up the still recording phone and point it at Din, now standing stark naked and holding his hand out to you. “Hang on a sec, killer,” you smirk as you pan the camera over his nude form, your mouth watering as you rake the lens over his broad frame, his bulging biceps and his taut flexed legs. You can't help but zoom in on your favourite parts of his body: his big paw hands where his fingers are currently curling with a twinge of impatience, the little hollow dip at the base of his neck that pulsates when he swallows deeply, like he’s doing now, and his cock, throbbing and angry.
“You done, pretty bird?” Din asks with an edge. Swinging your leg over the bench, you take Din’s hand and gasp when he spins you around quickly, pressing you flush against his back before walking you forwards with your dress bunched up around your waist and his hardness pressed against your ass.
“Liked what you saw, bunny?” he whispers against your ear, crowding you up against the sink and using his hand to lift your elbow so you’re pointing the phone at the reflection of the two of you in the mirror.
“Yes, Din,” you whisper, leaning back to kiss the underside of his chin.
Din drags the zipper of your dress slowly down your back so that the sleeves of your dress fall down your arms, tugging down the front and revealing your matching black bra to the camera. “I like what I see too,” Din murmurs, as he unclasps your bra and pulls the straps down to meet your fallen sleeves, your tits falling out, nipples already hard and pointing at your reflection. Kissing down the back of your neck, all the way down your spine, Din pulls down your panties and helps you step out of them. When he stands back up, it’s to place the soaked lace next to the sink in front of you, before positioning you, the rest of your clothes still half on, so that you’re bending over the sink, hands braced against the front, your back arched and ass sticking out for him.
You wiggle it a little and whine, “Need your cock, Din.”
He gives you a harsh spank that’s harder than you expected, causing you to yelp as the smack echos into the shower stalls, “Daddy!”
“Get used to it, pretty bird. Daddy’s going to get rough with you now.”
Eyes widening and meeting Din’s in the mirror, you smile and lick your lips, “What’s got you all hot and bothered, killer?”
“Some assholes thought about having you tonight. Talked like they might have a chance with you. Want you to walk out of this locker room with my cum dripping down your legs so everyone knows who you belong to.”
“I’m yours, Din, everyone knows tha-” you’re cut off, breath stolen away when Din sheaths himself into you without warning, bottoming out in one smooth motion. He doesn’t give you a moment to get used to him, just starts immediately fucking into you, driving his cock into your tight hole over and over, punching the deepest parts of you that only he can reach as he pushes all the air out of your lungs. You close your eyes and whimper.
“Eyes open and looking in the mirror, baby. Who’s that pretty slut?”
“Me. Oh Din, fuck, I’m your pretty slut.” You make sure your phone still has the entire mirror in view and that it captures the way he’s thrusting into you, every snap of hips jolting your forward so your tits bounce and your mouth is forced into an open ‘O’.
“That’s right. All mine. And what do you want, pretty girl?”
“Ngh—”
“Words, baby. Not gonna give it to you until I hear you say it,” Din lays another heavy spank to your ass, watching your cheek ripple under his hand as he keeps up his grueling pace.
“Uh – fuck, Din. I- I-, I need you to fuck me, daddy. Fuck me so hard I feel you tomorrow. Take me hard against this sink like a dirty whore. Please, please, daddy, please. Uhhhhhhhh, Din, fuck me pleas-“
“Are you my prize? Is my prize for winning tonight getting to fuck a little whore in the locker room as hard as she can take it?” Smack, smack, smack, your ass reddening as it continues to take the double punishment of Din’s pelvis rutting into you and the blows from his hard hands.
“Harder.”
“Then get louder, little whore. Want everyone in this building to hear you.”
You let loose a whine from the very back of your throat as he snaps back into you with a force that nearly knocks the phone out of your hand. Recovering so that you don’t lose a minute of this lascivious footage, you lean and brace your free hand against the mirror while grinding your ass back, meeting every one of Din’s thrusts.
With the way Din is fucking you - hard and unrelenting, there’s a small part of you that isn’t sure if you can take it, but the sticky mess between your legs says otherwise; you want to please him so much, so you take, take, take, and scream out for more, “Daddy, daddy, fuck! Your cock feels so good, no one fucks me like you!”
“My. Little. Slut.”
“The only whore who take my cock this good.”
“Daddy’s going to wreck this pretty pussy.”
Din knows how much you love his dirty talk, but it’s dirtier than usual tonight. Not fully immune to the aggression and macho bullshit that always permeates the atmosphere of these fights, tonight Din’s possessiveness has an edge, his roughness has bite. Din’s degradation shoots straight to your cunt and your walls flutter around him as you scream in pleasure.
“Changed my mind. Your pretty slut noises are mine too,” Din grabs your panties from where he left them next to the sink and stuffs them in your mouth; you whine a muffled sound like a wounded animal as he keeps the lacy fabric from falling out with his fingers, hooking down the corner of your mouth.
“Pretty little whore with her panties down her throat. Good for cock and nothing else,” Din grunts right into your ear, loud enough for the camera to pick up as well.
“Mmmfffmmmm,” you cry, mouth full and unable to articulate anything as Din drags his fingers down from your mouth, giving your neck a little squeeze when he grazes his hand near the bottom of your throat.
“This throat is mine.”
His hands travel down further until they reach your breasts; he grabs and gropes you roughly before pinching on your nipples, rolling and tugging harshly, “These tits are mine.” Your screams stifled as your eyes roll to the back of your head, you tip your head back to arch into his touch, leading Din to chuckle darkly.
“Always wanting more, my little bunny?” He drives into you even harder when you nod vigorously, eyes glassed over, cock drunk.
Din’s hands drags down your abdomen and cups your pussy. “This pussy is mine,” he growls as he starts playing with your clit. You’re about to black out, your whole body is vibrating, nearing overstimulation – every one of Din’s dirty words nearly taking you out.
“And she comes when I say so,” Din orders with authority into your ear. You look at the screen of your phone that you’ve somehow managed to continue to hold upright, still filming, and stare through hazy eyes at the you in the mirror on the screen: blissed out, tits out and bouncing in time to every hard thrust of Din’s cock, mouth stuffed with your wet panties and crying out against the fabric. You plead to the Din in the mirror with your eyes.
“Come on my cock, baby,” comes the command you’ve been waiting for, and you positively wail as your walls contract and clench down hard around Din’s dick. His arms wrap around your breasts to hold you upright, and you shudder to his stuttering thrusts, held tight and limp against Din’s chest as he pumps his spend into you - not sure how you manage to hold on to your phone as you capture every last moment of shaky footage.
Finally having the mind to press the red button to stop the recording, you place you phone down by the sink and let yourself melt back into Din, letting him pull your lacy gag out of your mouth. He holds you close and presses soft kisses into your check, neck and lips, whispering how good you did for him, how perfect you feel around his cock, how sweet you are to let him fuck you this way. You close your eyes and let him praise you and hold your boneless body.
Soft pledges of love and devotion are shared as Din cleans the two of you up with the towel he was using before, and as you right your lingerie and dress. After Din gets dressed and packs up his gym bag, you share one last tender kiss before walking hand and hand to leave the locker room so you can join your friends for the after party at the bar across the street.
You open the door and slyly peek out, expecting to see Jimmy, but instead, you’re met by Greef wearing a pained expression on his face.
“Hey,” says Din, amused.
“Don’t ‘hey’ me,” deadpans Greef, “I’ve had to rotate every Mando off this door, none of them able to stand it for more than a few minutes. You’re paying for everyone’s group therapy, boss.”
You giggle, feeling the heat creep up to your cheeks as you turn and hide in Din’s chest; Din is laughing as Greef walks off in a huff, and calls out, “Take it out of my winnings, Karga!”
Looking up at Din, you crinkle your nose, embarrassed, “Do you think we were really that loud?”
Din chuckles, “Maybe? I guess we’ll never know. Oh wait,” he playfully grabs your waist causing you to squeal, “we could watch the video later and find out.”
The idea of watching your sex tape together has a fresh wave of arousal pooling in your still drenched panties and you squeeze you legs together; your actions don’t escape Din’s attention, and he whispers low in your ear, “Let’s get through the after party first, then we’ll go home and do… what do the kids call it? Right, Netflix and chill.”
You roll your eyes jokingly, “Alright, old man,” already expecting the playful swat on your bum. Squeaking and grinning, you slip your hand back into its rightful place in Dins and tug, almost shyly, "What are we waiting for then, killer?"
Yep, Din thinks, I won.
#din djarin#modern!din djarin#din djarin fic#din djarin fanfiction#din djarin x reader#din djarin x you#din djarin x f!reader#pedro pascal characters fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#modern au#no y/n
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An unexpected announcement.
pairing: Rhea Ripley x fem!reader (and platonic the judgment day x reader. )
requested by@stellakiddsblog saying:Rhea x pregnant reader They announce their pregnancy to the judgement day No angst
genre:fluff!
summary: announcing you and Rhea being parents wasn't something you could do commonly,so you decided to tease them a bit.
A/N: I wanted to thank you all for the requests,the likes,the comments and the reblogs! I really appreciate each and everyone of you <3 I had to be ORIGINAL in this one
⋆ ˚｡⋆𔓘⭒๋࣭
You and your wife Rhea have always wanted a baby together.
So,you tried your everything to make the pregnancy happen,and,fortunately, it worked.
When the doctors told you that you were pregnant,you were over the moon: you jumped on Rhea,hugging her tight and her doing the same,while peppering millions of kisses on your cheeks.
You first told both of your families: Rhea's was on cloud nine,and yours was the happiest they've ever been. You got support from everyone,but,for the first few months you wanted to keep it a secret. But,obviously, your friends Dominik,Finn and Damian had to know,and to spice it up a little bit,you and Rhea planned something for them.
The day when you got the news of being pregnant,Rhea told the rest of the faction that her and you were sick. Obviously her and your friends were worried,and decided to visit the both of you.
"Hi girls!" Damian,ever the sweetest,hugged the both of you,but he had a look of worry on his face.
"Mami? Y/N? Are you alright? Do you need anything?" Dominik looked really preoccupied as well for the both of you.
Finn approached the both of you with 2 bags in his hands,full of snacks and drink. "Thank you,Finn,I appreciate it" Rhea said with a (fake) sick voice,coughing after talking to make a better impression.
You looked kinda bad as well,because,to seem pale,you put a light foundation so that the guys would really believe it.
"Guys,we don't have the strength to prepare our medicine,could you please help us? It's on the kitchen counter,but before giving it to us could you please read the instructions first?" You asked with a low voice, trying to hold your own laugh.
Basically, to prank the guys, you decided to put the ultrasound photos of your baby instead of the instructions, so they would be completely surprised.
Damian opened the box of the medicine,while Finn was preparing you both a cup of water to take said medicine and Dominik was putting all of the things they bought in their trip at the grocery store earlier on the table.
"What the hell?" Damian said,and,obviously, Finn and Dominik came next to him to see what was wrong. They loudly gasped,and their jaws fell open.
You and Rhea couldn't hold your laughs in anymore,and you just cried from all of the laughs you shared.
The three men watched the both of you with a confused expression,looking at each other in disbelief.
"Oh my god- wait I can't breathe-" You stopped to catch your breath,then you continued "So guys,guess what?" You asked with a smile, "We're becoming mothers!" Rhea exclaimed, with a smile that almost reached her ears and made her eyes disappear.
"WHAT?" Dominik said,and Finn continued "FOR REAL???"
You both nodded,and they erupted into cheers.
"I'm so happy for you!"
"I'm becoming an uncle!"
"Oh my god yall"
"THIS IS INSANE"
The night ended with a big hug,while you and Rhea contemplated about finally being mothers.
taglist: @stellakiddsblog @bibibi-tchx
#rhea ripley#rhea ripley x reader#rhea ripley fluff#rhea ripley oneshot#rhea ripley imagine#damian priest x reader#finn balor x reader#dominik mysterio x reader#the judgment day x reader
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TIKTOK TRENDS
────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────
Summary: doing tiktok trends with your boyfriend
Warnings: fluff? a BIT suggestive if you squint
⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅
You and Nate laid in his bed, both watching TikTok on your phone. Nate was lying on his back and you were on top of him, your phone in both of your views.
You scrolled to the next video and saw the trend people do with their boyfriends to the sound that goes ‘my titties perfect they plastic’.
“Nate can we do this?!” You shot up, now straddling him and his eyebrows furrowed, he wasn’t totally paying attention so he didn’t really see any of it before you sat up.
“What is it, baby?” He asked, bringing his hands up to your thighs to massage them. “You’ve never seen it?” You tilted your head slightly.
“I really only watch TikTok when we watch it together.” He shrugged. “Oh, well it’s with this sound. And basically I go behind you and use my arms like yours, I can’t explain it, just look.” You turned your phone back towards him, playing the video.
Nate watched as the guy stood in front of the camera, his arms back and a girls arms out in front. He watched the whole video before looking at you.
“I’ll do it but only if I can do it to you too.” He grinned and you rolled your eyes. “You’re dirty.” You spoke as you got off of him.
You went around his room trying to find a good place to set up the phone and Nate followed you. “Here!” You exclaimed, bending over slightly to set the camera up.
Two hands came up behind you, grabbing on to your waist and slowly pulling your hips to meet his. “Really?” You said as you stood up. “Couldn’t help it.” He shrugged simply.
“Okay I’m gonna set the timer to ten seconds so I can get situated.” You explained before you did just that. The timer counted down and you went behind Nate, guiding his hands back and bringing yours in front to be visible. The timer went from three to one and the audio started playing.
my titties perfect they plastic.
You brought your hands up to Nate’s chest, scrunching your hands over it, making Nate clear his throat. “I’m kinda ticklish.” He said sheepishly and you shook your head.
i like my money Jurassic.
You took your hands away from Nate and pretended to spread around fake money while Nate nodded his head along with the sound.
this pussy pop back, elastic.
Your hands traveled down and Nate’s face immediately went red. You patted around his dick to the sound but the last one must have been too close because he jolted a bit. “Baby!” He whispered harshly with a smile.
you bitches don’t want no static.
You brought your pointer fingers out and shook them no while Nate’s face stayed completely red for the remainder of the video.
You moved from behind him and went to grab your phone. “You got me.” He mumbled and you looked at him. “Sue me.”
You watched the video, watching Nate grow more and more flustered throughout the whole thing and you smiled at him.
“Let me do it now.” He spoke. “Okay fine.” You spoke, uploading the video immediately with no caption or anything and setting the phone up again.
“Do you know how it goes?” You looked back at him and he nodded. “Okay, you’re gonna have to bend down a bit because they’re not supposed to see you.” You spoke before turning the timer on.
“During the first part, don’t squeeze too hard because they hurt.” You said nervously as you stood in front of him. “I can help with that later.” He spoke, kissing your head, making you go red before the video even started.
my titties perfect they plastic.
Nate’s hands went up to your chest, fitting perfectly around both of your tits as he squeezed them lightly, making you bite your lip slightly.
i like my money Jurassic.
You nodded your head, singing along with the lyrics as Nate’s hands pretending to spread money around just like you did.
this pussy pop back, elastic.
Nate pat his hands a bit just like you did but he let his hands roam on your bare thighs a bit, making your body twitch a bit and go red all over again. “Nate!” You said shyly.
you bitches don’t want no static.
His shook his hands no while you shook your head and tried to sing along with the lyrics but you were still flustered.
The sound ended and you gave Nate a look. “You did the same thing!” He grabbed on to your waist. “You really want me to post that?!” You questioned.“Absolutely.” Nate said without hesitation and you hesitantly did so.
comments Nate version
my fav couple
YALL ARE SO CUTE
he got RED RED
ik what yall did after this
comments your version
he definitely asked to do this
i love how you were red before he even did anything
Oh he got a bit lost in there
Tell him to watch his hands on my girl
Luna speaks!
Hi
Let’s pretend it hasn’t been MONTHS
This is just like a blurb idk if i like it
Bye!
#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nate doe#nathan doe#nathan doe smut#sturniolo smut#sturniolo triplets#chris sturniolo smut#matt stuniolo fanfic#Nathan doe fanfic#sturniolo#nick sturniolo
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Slowly, Unintentionally.
Part 3
Pairing: Idol!Min Yoongi x Nerd!Reader
Summary:
Y/N and Yoongi are two individuals in completely different worlds who collide due to an arranged marriage. What happens when there’s somebody else living with them too?
⚠️ Warnings: Smut, fluff, angst, heartbreak, and crying. Tissues are highly recommended!
Part 1 :
Part 2:
One week later...
Y/N's POV
It’s been a week since a beautiful angel stepped into our lives and we’ve already grown so close. I can say I truly love Ae-cha with all my heart. We spend so much time together. She helps me out in the kitchen (even though it just means she’s going to rummage through the cupboards and find a good snack) and even slips into my bed late at night. She’s sneaky and cute and just downright lovely to me. Despite the way Yoongi despises me with every fibre of his being, I can say that he’s at least able to tolerate my presence now. Barely, but still.
I’m broken out of my thoughts as I feel a pair of small hands sneak around my waist.
“Oh, you’re back!” I say and turn to look at Ae-cha who beams at me, nodding eagerly. Today, I took a leave from my office just to make sure I was there for Ae-cha as she came back from her first guitar lesson. I hoped I'd be at least a little helpful for her and was definitely not disappointed as my little girl came back home and immediately sought me out. She starts talking animatedly about how wonderful her teacher had been and how patient he was to make sure she got all the basics right before beginning their lesson.
Knowing that she probably already knew all those basics but still liked appreciating the teacher for her thoughtfulness, I smile at her and then realize there’s another person in the kitchen at the sound of someone clearing their throat. I realize it’s Yoongi by the sound and turn around returning to my work as I know he wants to talk to Ae-cha. Hence, you can see I’m surprised when he softly calls out,
“Y/N.”
Hiding the fact that my heart just skipped a goddamn beat hearing him speak my name in such a soft tone, I slowly turn to face him. He’s standing there. Leaning against the top of the kitchen counter, looking impeccably handsome as ever.
“Can we talk?”
The softly posed question both confuses and scares me to an equal level though I just gulp, trying to wet my suddenly dry throat and manage to muster a believable smile.
“Yeah, sure.” I say and find myself even more confused as he instructs Ae-cha to go to her room and complete her homework. The little girl turns to send a secretive smile at me and runs outside, giggling after I dazedly smile back at her.
Yoongi stays there for a while, watching her go before he directs his attention at me. Being the centre of attention has always made me nervous and anxious but I don’t understand why being the centre of Yoongi’s attention has me feeling happy and powerful. It feels as if l my life I was used to being invisible, made peace with the fact but If Yoongi looks at me, I never want him to look away. He walks towards me and stops at an arm’s distance.
“I spoke to Ae-cha’s guardian yesterday and he told me that adoption would be a good option if we want to keep her with us. Otherwise, according to the law she’ll have to be sent to an orphanage. My legal team has told me that adoption can only be possible if there’s a functioning relationship between the couple. It’s said that the officers are hard to convince unless the pair have and understanding with each other. I know that we haven’t exactly been a proper couple but do you think we can at least try to pretend?
The fact that he wanted to talk to me only because it was about Ae-cha breaks my heart again. Even worse, he’s just giving that to me as a piece of information, not even slightly caring about my opinion. I struggle to gather the broken pieces before I say,
“Yeah, I think we can.”
He doesn’t make my struggle easier when he speaks again,
“Thanks. But you know that I’m only asking you this for Ae-cha, right? It has nothing to do with us.”
I feel tears prick my eyes but I hold on, deciding not to break down in front of him. I offer my best smile to him and nod.
He replies with an,
“Oh good. See you later then.” and walks out.
I run to my room and lock the door before crying my hearts out. Within a few minutes, I hear a soft knock on my door. Groaning, I'm about to tell whoever it is to go away when
"Y/n, Are you in there?" Ae-cha's voice sounds from the other side of the door. Panicking slightly, I sniff a few times, hurriedly running to the restroom and splashing my face with water.
"Yeah, what's up?" I ask, smiling brightly at her after opening the door to my room.
The little girl eyes me up and down suspiciously as if she isn't convinced everything's fine.
"hm, I was going to watch a movie. Wanna join?"
I frown, trying to find out why exactly she's behaving as if she knows everything before shrugging as to say,
"Sure, why not."
Ae-cha settles down on the couch, flipping through the programs to find a good movie while I make some popcorn for us.
After we settle comfortably on the couch and the movie is playing, I space out. Not that I mean to, but the recent events all awaken my overthinking abilities. I had a pretty good day from the morning, what with Ae-cha's guitar lessons and all but once again, Yoongi had to ruin it. But even with how badly he treats me, I cannot bring myself to hate this man. I'm more annoyed than angry actually. If he wanted to go about the adoption process, I'm pretty sure he'll be able to surpass all the legal procedures with his societal standing and popularity. But he was deciding to do it the legal way. And I respect that, truly. But the least he could do for me, was to treat me like an actual human being and consider my feelings about the whole things. At least for the sake of pretending, we had to get to know each other. He just...
As the million wild thoughts race through my mind, I feel a soft warm body slowly move towards me on the couch. Turning, I see e-cha snuggling under my arm, cuddling closer and laying her head on my shoulder. at least, she tries to but with her height, she's only successful at lading on my chest. Laughing softly, I pull her closer, creating a comfortable space for her to lie down on the couch.
Smiling up at me, she leans closer and for a second I'm almost afraid. But then, her soft lips gently graze my cheek and I sit, frozen at what just happened. Then, she gets back to her previous position. Pleasantly surprised, I'm only able to wrap her up in my arms and almost miss it when she whispers softly,
"I'm there for you."
The burn of my eyes and the sudden tightness in my throat are all to familiar but i stubbornly blink them back, only nodding and pressing a kiss to her temple. She looks up at me and we smile at each other.
This wonderful creature, so small. But filled with so much knowledge. I sit there in awe trying to comprehend how she can be so understanding in spite of not understanding!?!?
I finally decide, I can tackle whatever Yoongi throws t me, no matter how hard as long as I have my dear Ae-cha by my side. I love her. And I love him. In different ways. Yet at the same time, soo similar.
_______________________________________________________
That was quite a long break. I apologize for it. But as you can see, I'm back. I'm working on this fic and a small one-shot based on Jimin. SO, stay tuned. Do tell me what you think.
Does Ae-cha KNOW what happened between them? Is Yoongi doing this the legal way just for formality's sake or for something else? Ae-cha is actually and angel, isn't she?
#bangtan sonyeondan#bts#bts yoongi#suga#jeon jungkook#yoongi#min yoongi#agust d#bts fanfic#bts ffs#min yoogni#words#yn fanfic#yn#min yoongi x you#min yoongi x y/n#min yoongi x reader#min yoongi imagine#yoongi ff#bts suga#min suga#haegum#dday#sugakookie#married#cold hearted#bangtan#cautioustype#childhood trauma#caring
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okay okay okay!! first i just stumbled on your account and it's so lovely and all your work is incredible!!! secondly, i have a fic request for you (based on a taylor song/lyric)
i was thinking daughter of athena and luke castellan with the lyric from peter (aka the bridge) but specifically "but the woman who sits by the window has turned out the light." like an angsty fic where he promised her to go back and get her (since he loved her) but came too late!!
idk if that makes sense but hopefully it does.
all my love, amanda <3
˗ˋ promises, oceans deep, but never to keep ˊ˗
warnings: depressing, I’ll pay for everyone’s therapy. this also isn’t proof read because I’m lazy
pairing: luke castellan x daughter of athena
summary: read the request!
A/N: I wrote this so fast, but I swear it all came to me at once so I hurried to write it all before I forgot it 😭
“I’ll come back for you, I promise”
“don’t break it”
“I won’t, I swear it on the river styx”
what. a. lie.
countless nights spent crying your eyes out, skipping meals, cutting off all your friends and siblings, staying in bed the whole day, and for what? for some guy that couldn’t even bother to keep a promise, that’s who
“get up” you hear a voice say above you, and although your face has basically been best friends with your pillow, you know exactly who it is
“go away annabeth” you mumbled
“no, I’m not. this isn’t healthy, I miss him too but you don’t see me crying in bed everyday”
you sit up quickly upon hearing those words
“that’s different, he said he would be back for me” you fumed
“face facts, he’s not coming back, it’s been 6 months” she took a seat at the end of your bed
“get out” you shoot her a harsh glare
“this is my cabin to you know?” she responded
“then get off my bed and leave me alone”
- 🎞️ -
from all the time you spent in bed you’d think sleep would have come to you easier, but you spent every night and day lying awake, thinking about your last words together
where was he? why wouldn’t he come back?
those words repeated in your head constantly, and you couldn’t stand it. wasn’t healing supposed to be easier?
it isn’t. it wasn’t easy
for the first 7 months, all you could do was cry
but then you accepted the fact that he wouldn’t be coming back for you, so you started a new life- a better life. you mended things with your friends, got up from bed and even ate full meals
it was almost perfect
you were happy, for the first time in a while
but that was until you heard a knock on your window, disturbing your peace. you stand up from your bed and walk over to the window, opening it quickly so the knocking doesn’t wake up any of your sleeping siblings
oh my gods, this cannot be happening
“hey”
“no- you can’t- no, absolutely not” you stutter, scanning your brain for the right words, “you can’t be here, luke”
“I told you I would come back, I promised it you know” he grinned
seriously? he left you for months, broken and depressed and he smiles? you would be lying if you said you didn’t miss it though
“no-wait, hold on” you cover his mouth with your hand before climbing out of your window. you take his hand and drag him away from your cabin
“I’m not going with you, you’re too late” you state, crossing your arms over your chest
“what do you mean too late?” he asks
“It’s been seven months, luke, you left me here, I grieved, and then I accepted the fact that you were never coming back.”
“and I came back didn’t I? I love you, I would never break my promise” he tries to grab your hands but you don’t allow him, pulling them away quickly
“no, it doesn’t matter if the promise was broken or not, you left me, and I got over you”
“I’m sorry, I really am, I didn’t mean to take so long- I had a lot of things to take care of, I didn’t mean to upset you I mean, I’ve been sad to you know, I missed you a lot and-”
“stop. you don’t get to tell me about sad” you scowl and begin to walk away but he grabs your hand swiftly
“please- just let me explain” he begs, and something in you wants to stay and listen but you know it’s for the better
“I can’t do this, you need to go” you feel tears start making their ways to your eyes
he grabs both of your hands, cupping them in his, “please” he cried, eyes filled with desperation
you let a tear shed down your cheek, “I’m sorry” you whisper, and release your hands from his grasp, making your way back to your cabin
and as you were leaving, it felt like breathing
#percy jackon and the olympians#pjo series#pjo tv show#percy jackson#pjo fandom#pjo spoilers#pjo#pjo disney+#percy series#luke castellan#luke castellan x you#luke castellan fluff#luke castellan fic#luke castellan x reader#pjo show#pjo bts#pjo x reader#percy pjo#pjo fanfic
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Any unpopular opinions on Death is the only ending for the Villainess?
overrated. It's full of abuse apologism, dare I say pro imperialism, pro slavery, all women in this manhwa only exist to torment the mc and get their punishment while the men (only if handsome!) are forgiven
the characters are flat. We don't know anything about their likes and hobbies. Iklies at least has the excuse that as a slave he has no time or money to pursue an interest but the other male leads are nobility. They should have a life that doesn't revolve around Penelope.
Iklies being a yandere doesn’t mean his character has to be two dimensional. Yanderes are capable of following their own agenda aside from their obsession with their s/o. Let him have that.
Iklies deserved better
the Eckarts deserved to die or put in prison
why is Derrick a love interest when he lusted after a 12 year old as an adult? Why is no one talking about that?
Callisto should be executed for the genocide in Delman. If he was old enough to participate in a war, he would have been old enough to be judged for his crimes according to the law of his time. But I think even if we applied the modern law he could be tried for everything he did from age 18-23. And if someone tries to apply the insanity defense here then by that same logic he shouldn't be allowed to rule a country but send to therapy.
villains who are only complicit or have an understandable motive get harshly punished, meanwhile the main perpetrator or the one who indirectly caused this goes free (the cook loses her job, Emily, a child abuser, stays, the imperialist and enslaver gets his happy ending, the slave loses the girl he loves and is villainized for rebelling and wanting his abusers to die)
the fandom has a problem with abuse apologism. I saw someone once calling Penelope paranoid and partly guilty for the abuse against her.
Penelope has plot armor
I’d be more interesting if she had lives left she can use up (maybe 5 for each love interest?). Adds more suspense as we’d know she’ll die but wouldn’t know when or how she would die.
Callisto/Penelope scenes seem forced. When he held his sword against her neck and called her a rat and she said she loved him I cringed so hard. Was that supposed to be romantic? Her family back in Korea used to call her a rat. So far iklies and Vinter are the only LI’s who haven’t degraded her. But Vinter is a plot device and Iklies a villain.
this has to do with personal taste: I hate the fan service (men showing their abs) and the manhwa could do better without them. This is a death/survival game. How the narrative tries to insert Callisto scenes and attempts to make them seem romantic breaks me out of the flow. It just feels misplaced.
the behaviour of some characters is inconsistent (i.e. Penelope decided to keep the abusive maid around with the excuse that no one can gurantee her if her replacement won’t be worse, but then after establishing her place in the Eckart household she decides to leave for the palace where Mr grimreaper crown prince lives, the people that ordered the assassination and hundreds of servants that no one can gurantee aren’t dangerous because they could be working for the queen. Also why did she even expect the Eckarts to help her after everything they’ve done to her. That was foolish.)
making the og! heroine the villain, making the og villainess secretly a saint/mage is cheap. Been there. Done before. The manhwa had such a unique premise but then it fell into the usual cliches I thought it would avoid.
Penelope should have attempted to run away when she had nothing to lose anymore. I wonder why she never tried to go the independent route because if I remember correctly some Otome games do provide routes where you don’t necessarily need a man. (Arcana Famiglia I believe where Felicia can become a mafia boss without marrying anyone). The fastest way to end the game in Code Realize is not choosing a man and travelling the world alone. (It counts as a bad end but still). What I’m saying is it’s strange Penelope never tested out other options.
the abuse against Penelope should have had an effect on her health. Doesn’t vitamin defiancy lead to poor eyesight? Things like that.
I find it hard to believe Ivonne was such a nice person when she was raised by classist and racist people. The Eckarts probably idealized her in their memories.
Cha Siyeon pursuing a degree in archeology..you won’t get a lot money and it is a scientific and academic discipline which doesn’t have a lot of practical application, I heard you have to suck up to rich people and fight a lot with rich people (who are for example annoyed to stop construction work on their factory because they could damage an important artefact or historical burial site). So if she did it to escape her rich family she’d just be at square one. I’ve heard her family has already sabotaged her life in hopes she’ll return to them (the shitty appartment for example), so choosing a field to major in that isn’t very lucrative is well maybe not a good idea. I get it she did it because it’s a subject she’s passionate about but as someone rational as her I’m not sure if it was a good decision or even in character. (debateable) If you want independence, money comes first. I’ve read yelansdicecharm‘s concept of Siyeon being a computer major and that by hacking the game to achieve a happy ending she caused the error which sucked her into the game world. I think that concept is very cool.
#notanon#answered asks#this is basically just a summary of what I have said before#anti callisto regulus#anti eckarts#vadd critical
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the pro
part ii: what we're willing to accept
Pairing: Art Donaldson x Reader
Rating: Explicit - 18+ only. minors, please get off my lawn.
Notes: My brain chose violence this morning. Not beta-read because when is it ever.
Length: 4.8K
Warnings: Slow burn; unhappily married reader; divorced Art Donaldson; infidelity; oral sex (female receiving); vaginal sex; unsafe sex
Summary: Every lesson becomes an exercise in self-control. You force yourself to try, really try, and not make silly mistakes for the sake of Art coming closer, grasping your arm or elbow, pressing close and redirecting your swing. You don’t know what you crave more these days: his praise or his touch.
He's the biggest men's tennis star since Andy Roddick.
That’s what your husband says, as if it’ll entice you. As if you know anything about tennis, about the pro that your husband says will be coming to the house to teach you to play.
It’ll be good for you. You need a hobby.
You don’t gripe or argue. You don’t tell him that five months into your marriage shouldn’t have you looking for a new hobby. You should still be in the honeymoon stage, spending all of your time with him, hanging off of his arm, off of his every word. But he works so much and he’s away so often—
I don’t want you to get bored.
It’s a sweet gesture. The maid handles the housework; you have a chef that handles most of the grocery shopping and cooking, unless you insist on making something yourself; you have a housekeeper that arranges for anything you need—dry cleaning, maintenance. And it’s no wonder that with all of his money, his power, he can just order a retired pro tennis player up to your house, like you’d order a pizza. There’s a tennis court in the back of the mansion, a few feet from the pool. You’ll get some new outfits, the best sneakers, the nicest rackets. You’ll finally have something to do to fill your days.
Art Donaldson.
You know his name before the lean, fair-skinned patrician man turns up at your front door. He trails you through the house, politely declines your offer of a beverage.
“You ever played tennis before?” He asks.
You haven’t. Before your husband arranged this for you, you hadn’t so much as given the sport more than a passing thought. You don’t have the heart or confidence to tell that to a man that’s made tennis his whole life, so you just give him a small, guilty smile and say no, you haven’t. He nods, waves you off, insists that it’s fine.
“We’ll start with the basics.”
--
Two months of lessons on the basics make your arms tired, and your hands sore. But where your swings are clumsy and your grip is weak at first, you can see improvement in the way that you move. Your steps are less clumsy when you go after a ball; you’re more aware of the service line and the base line; your forehand stroke from contact to your left shoulder is smoother; your rotation and follow-through on your backhand is coming along, but has a long way to go.
Art’s instruction is calm and steady. He explains technique as much as he demonstrates it. When you get something wrong, he doesn’t scold, just lightly corrects. When you do something well, his encouragement is constant and free-flowing. Every accurate move and motion is met with, “Nice,” or, “Perfect,” or, “That’s it.”
On the days when you don’t have a lesson with Art, you practice. You order a tennis ball machine to work on your forehand and backhand. You attempt (and fail) to learn how to slice on your own. You try anyway—you can only imagine the way his eyes might light up if you manage to surprise him.
You’ve tried to ignore the rising interest that you have in Art, but you can’t help the little…Crush that’s developed. He’s just so attentive, and kind. When you find yourself smiling these days, it’s often because of something that he said, or did. You can’t remember the last time your husband made you feel giddy this way. It was probably when you started dating—before you’d made the decision to marry for comfort, rather than love. Your husband is practical, rarely physically affectionate, more heavily involved in his job and social circles than with you.
But you’ll have to find a way to thank him. He’s given you a hobby, and a man that grins at you like you just painted the goddamn Mona Lisa when you serve your first ace.
--
“So, tell me about the Mark Rebellato Academy.”
Art smiles, dipping his head as he reaches for his coffee. It’s taken a few months, but you finally convince him to have something to drink with you after practice. Your chef is blessedly out shopping for ingredients for dinner, so you have the kitchen all to yourself. Art has watched you putter around, seeming surprised that you know where everything is. You can’t blame him; the kitchen is chef-grade, and you don’t cook much these days.
“Did your husband tell you that’s where I went?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know?”
You’re too embarrassed to admit that you’ve done some googling, and watched a couple of clips of him interviewing before and after his matches.
“I’ve just heard,” You fib. “Tell me about it?”
He leans back in his seat, eyes skating across your face as he seems to consider something.
“What do you wanna know?”
“Did you enjoy it? I mean—” It feels like a dumb question once it’s out, and you hurry to redirect, “With what you know now, if you had the choice, would you have learned how to play tennis somewhere else?”
He considers for a moment, trailing his finger over the side of his cup. Your gaze flits to his fingers, and your own flex around your mug handle. You’ve spent far too much time looking at and thinking about Art’s fingers—their length and quickness; the slight roughness of his calloused hands; the lingering tan line from where his wedding band used to sit.
“Yeah,” He admits, drawing your full attention back to his face. “I would. It was foundational, you know. I’ve been thinking of sending Lily there.”
“Lily?”
A bittersweet smile twists his lips. “My daughter.”
“Oh!” It catches you off-guard.
“Tashi, uh—” He clears his throat, “Lily’s mother, my ex-wife. She and I are thinking about schools.”
“I’m sure they’d be glad to have her. Does she play tennis?”
“Little bit. She didn’t start until last year, but she's a natural.” He clears his throat again, presses, “Are you and your husband planning on having kids?”
“Oh god no.” You blurt it out, and realize as he raises his brows that you’ve spoken too quickly. You lean back in your seat, stirring your coffee quickly to distract yourself from your growing embarrassment. “He actually has kids already. Two girls, seven and ten. They’re at boarding school and they stay with their mother when they're on vacation. I haven’t gotten to spend much time with them.”
“...He seems to be pretty busy.”
“He is.”
“So it’s just you in this big house?” He tips his head to the side, brows knitting with curiosity. “What do you do all day?”
“Play tennis.”
He grins, chuckling, and your stomach flips at the sound.
“It shows, you know,” He says.
“What do you mean?”
“I can tell you’re practicing without me. And,” He leans across the table, running his fingers lightly over the exposed skin of your bicep, “You’re getting stronger.”
You wonder if he can see or feel the goosebumps that break out across your skin at the gentle sweep, his gaze heavy on yours.
“I have a good teacher,” You murmur. Art’s lips twitch with a soft smile, his hand gently cupping your arm.
“Just good?” He plies.
“The best. A real pro.”
His smile widens, and the flash of his tongue sweeping across his lower lip makes your face go hot. You know that you’re caught when Art’s touch becomes firmer, pulling your arm toward him just a little.
The sound of approaching footsteps startles you, and you hurriedly tug your arm away. The sight of your husband makes your heart leap into your throat.
“There you are,” He smiles. “Art, how’s she doin’?”
“She’s killing it.”
You don’t dare look at him, but you can feel the weight of his attention lingering on you still. You just give your husband a smile, tipping your cheek up obligingly as he leans down to kiss it.
“Actually, Art,” Your husband straightens up, hands resting on your shoulders. “I’m glad I caught you. There’s a charity event for a local club this month. It’s for uh…What is it?” He squeezes your shoulders for answers, and you have to keep from rolling your eyes.
“It’s a charity tennis match to raise funds to fix up the local courts. They need resurfacing and they’re raising funding to keep the fees down.”
“We could use a sponsorship from the foundation,” Your husband adds.
“Honey,” You glance back, wary of insulting Art. But—
“I’ll do it,” Art agrees. “Send me the details.”
“Excellent,” Your husband grins. “Maybe we could coax you into a match or two.”
You don’t chastise him this time—not when you see something light up in Art.
“Maybe.”
--
You haven’t seen Art play before. You’ve specifically avoided it. You’ve known that when you saw it, you would be too intimidated to do a damn thing on the court with him. But now, you can’t stop watching him. You don’t even care that you probably look so out of place—where everyone else is watching the ball, you’re just watching him.
His movements are so neat, so precise. It’s like watching a dance. He’s running the poor guy on the other side of the net up and down the court. And the sounds that he’s making—god. Every little grunt and groan is weaving increasingly filthy thoughts in your mind. You already know that you’ll seek out the memory of those sounds, as you reach between your legs later. His shirt clings to his chest, showcasing the muscles that you’ve always suspected he has. Strands of hair plaster to his forehead as sweat drips over his cheekbones, down the bridge of his nose, over his jaw.
When he scores a match point and he looks toward the cheering crowd—when his eyes land on you instantly, without having to search—it’s like you’ve been hit by a bolt of lightning. You can’t think, or move. You barely have the focus to applaud, but you manage to raise your hands and clap.
--
Every lesson becomes an exercise in self-control. You force yourself to try, really try, and not make silly mistakes for the sake of Art coming closer, grasping your arm or elbow, pressing close and redirecting your swing. You don’t know what you crave more these days: his praise or his touch.
Coffee becomes a post-lesson ritual. He starts to stick closer and closer to you as he follows you into the house until he begins to rest his hand on your lower back, guiding you to your door. He keeps nearby when you’re making it, brushes droplets of sweat off of your forehead or neck. Every touch is electrifying; you have to make a concentrated effort to keep your hands steady, your face neutral as your heart pounds and your stomach floods with butterflies.
He pushes you harder on the court, and you force yourself to meet the level that he sets for you, even when you don’t feel confident in it. But you want to make him proud.
It spurs you to lunge a little too far.
The sharp stabbing pain in your left ankle makes you shriek, and you tumble to the ground, dropping the racket with a clatter. You hear the pounding of his feet, glance up just in time to see him clear the net before he’s on the ground at your side.
“What hurts?”
“My ankle,” You grit out, hissing softly as he helps you straighten your leg out. He smooths his hands over your calf, leaning over you and gently guiding your foot in a few different directions. You whimper as he starts to guide your foot to the left.
“Okay, okay,” He soothes, “Let’s get you inside.”
For as much as you damn the throbbing in your ankle, you thank it a little, too. You lean heavily against Art, making the slow, arduous journey back to the house with his arm wrapped tightly around your middle.
When your husband comes home, he finds you with on the couch with Art coming back in from the kitchen, an ice pack in your hand.
You’d hope for concern, but your husband frowns, glances at the swelling knob of your ankle, and simply asks: “What did you do?”
“She lost her balance.” Art sits down on the other end of the couch, soothing you as the chill of the ice pack makes you shift with discomfort.
“Are you going to be able to walk tomorrow?” Your husband presses. “We have dinner at the Fineman’s.”
“I'm still going, don't worry about that."
“...Tomorrow might be a bit soon,” Art warns.
“I’ll be okay. It’s just a sprain, right?” You tip your brows up, hoping, praying that he’ll agree for your sake. His fingers flex around the ice pack, jaw ticking as he clenches it. He doesn’t say a word as your husband sighs heavily, grumbles, “I hope so. Still, we should put a pause on the lessons until she’s fighting fit again.”
Art finally tears his eyes from yours, a tight smile on his lips.
“Of course.”
--
“How’s the ankle?”
It takes you a moment to scrounge up an answer. You can’t believe that he called. You knew that Art had gotten your number when you started taking lessons with him, but he’s never used it beyond texting to confirm a lesson time now and again.
You look down at the still-swollen flesh as it strains against the thin strap of your slingbacks.
“Fine,” You lie, “It’s um—” You glance over your shoulder, listening for your husband. “It’s not that bad.”
“Good enough to walk on?”
Hardly.
“Yes.” You think you’ve gotten away with it, but when you hear Art sigh and chastise, “You should rest,” You know that you haven’t.
“I have,” You insist, “All day.”
“Are you sure you’re alright?”
“Yes.”
“You can tell him no, you know.”
Your mouth works wordlessly, body going hot with indignation. You can’t think of a thing to say. You can’t tell him that he’s wrong, that your husband’s connections are the lifeblood of his business. You can’t tell him that if your husband’s business falls apart, you won't be able to afford those tennis lessons, and then how the hell are you supposed to see Art again?
You just yank your phone away from your ear and hang up.
--
I invited Art.
It shouldn’t be a surprise, but your husband’s statement makes you feel like you’ve swallowed your tongue. You haven’t seen or spoken to Art in nearly two weeks. Your doctor recommended putting off any physical activity, which your husband surely relayed to him. He was the one whose name was on Art’s checks, after all.
Your husband has always thrown a massive party to kick off the summer. Every year, 150 of your husband’s closest family, friends, and business associates flooded into the house. It shouldn’t be such a surprise that your husband invited Art after the performance he had given at the fundraiser—$25,000 from the foundation, and ticket sales went through the roof when it had been announced that the Art Donaldson would be making an appearance. Your husband owed Art a lot, and probably saw this as an opportunity for him to network, to take on more clients. He had been evangelizing Art’s training to any of your friends that would listen—how good you are on the court, how engaged and energetic you seem to be these days.
It’s one thing to know that you’ll have to put on a happy face for the crowd, but to know that Art will be among them makes your insides twist with nerves. You can’t stop thinking about the way that he had spoken to you when you were hurt; his calm, steadying demeanor as he’d gotten you inside; the careful coaxing and gentle touch that he’d used as he’d taken your shoe off and examined your ankle more closely.
You think about it now, as you strap on another pair of heels. Your ankle really is doing well, though you have a little lingering pain in shoes like these. You’ll likely be on your feet for the length of the party; it’s going to be a long night. You look over yourself in the mirror, self consciously tipping your ankle from side to side for anything that he may spot or catch out. But there’s nothing, you reassure yourself. You slide your hands over the skirt, plastering on a smile as your husband pokes his head into your dressing room.
“Almost ready in here?” He asks.
“All set!”
--
He doesn’t come over to you. On the crowded patio, you can feel him watching you—you’ve gotten so used to seeking out the sensation that you can’t ignore it now. The first true look at him is agony. He watches you from just a few feet away, a glass of champagne in hand as he speaks with your husband and the Finemans. He openly looks you over, eyes drifting over your body to the flash of ankle revealed by the slit in your dress. He tips his head to the side just a little, squinting before his eyes flit back up to your face, lips twitching with a small smile.
You want to hate how good it feels; you want to be angry with him for his smug knowing, his insistence of You can tell him no, you know. But it feels so goddamn good to have his attention again that you can’t bring yourself to be annoyed. You know that you’re staring—that you both are—and you force yourself to turn away and excuse yourself from the conversation you’re in. You go inside, murmuring your thanks for the waitstaff that pass you along the way.
The house isn’t nearly as busy as the patio, and you're able to slip into your darkened study unnoticed. You leave the lights off, certain that if you turn them on, people will be drawn in to bug you, like moths to a flame. The party’s lights and music filter in through the partially-closed blinds.
You lean against the desk, circling your ankle and wincing a little. You’ll hide for a few minutes, let it rest—
Your breath catches in your throat as the door opens. You expect your husband, ready to scold and usher you back to the guests.
You only have a second to get a look at Art before he shuts the door behind himself, plunging the room back into darkness. Your fingers tighten around the edge of the desk as you use it to ground yourself.
“...Do you need something?” You ask, voice wobbling with nerves.
“Wanted to come say hi.”
“Well. Hi.”
You hear him chuckle, his footsteps muted by the carpet.
“Thanks for the invite.”
“It wasn’t my idea.” It’s not polite to admit, but you want it to sting him, just a little. Maybe it does; in the dim of the room, you can’t see Art’s expression as he comes to a stop just a couple of feet from you.
“Do you want me to go?” He asks. You know what you should say, but you can’t bring yourself to say it.
“No,” You whisper. You feel the heat of him as he comes closer, his hands resting on the desk and caging you in. You bite your lip as gently brushes his nose against yours.
“He isn’t taking care of you.”
“My ankle is fine.”
“I’m not talking about your ankle.” He lifts a hand, smoothing it over your hip as your breath mingles. Art’s fingers drift from your hip to stroke over the apex of your dress’s slit. His fingers slip further down, and you nod as he palms your thigh. Before you can say or do a thing, Art sinks to his knees. He curls his hand around your left calf, lifting it. You shiver as his lips press a gentle kiss to your ankle. His hand and lips travel up, easing the fabric of your dress higher with each second. The first brush of his knuckles against your panty-covered clit makes you jolt. Your hands dig into the wood of the desk as his fingers hook between the fabric and your skin. You lift your hips without a word, allowing him to draw them down.
Art presses a kiss to your mound before he lowers his head, giving your lips a sweet, sucking kiss. You gasp softly as his tongue swipes across your clit. You look down despite the fact that you can’t see him well. You can just make out his blissful expression, his eyes closed as his laps broadly across your aching cunt. You lower your hand to his neat hair, winding your fingers through it, unable to help grasping it. His heady moan vibrates against you and you nearly cry out at the sensation. You manage to just catch it, the sound dying in your throat as Art buries his tongue inside you. He sweeps his thumb over your clit in rush, harried circles, panting against your heated flesh. You rock your hips down against his lips, tightening your grip on his hair as you guide him. He lets you do as you please, whining against your skin as your movements become less controlled.
“Art,” You warn, “I—Oh, oh god—”
He hums in encouragement, sucking your clit back between his lips and lashing it with his tongue. Your jaw drops open, your hand shoving Art even more tightly against your skin as you cum suddenly. A stunned, breathy moan slips from your lips as Art leans back, smearing his lips against the inside of your thigh.
You use your grasp on Art’s hair to draw him back up off of his knees, giving him a crushing kiss as he catches his balance. You swipe your tongue across his lips, whining against his lips as you taste yourself on him. He presses close, his hard cock straining against the fabric of his pants. You reach down, palming and squeezing his length as you trade slick, messy kisses. He steers you back onto the desk as you fumble to undo his belt, button, and zip.
“Condom?” He asks.
“Pill,” You reassure, shoving his pants down. You lap broadly across your palm, grasping Art’s length and guiding him closer. He brushes the tip of his cock against your still-throbbing clit, smiling as you whine. You’re going to ache tomorrow, but you’ve never been so happy to be sore.
“Art.”
“Sssh.”
“Please—” It’s hardly out of your mouth before he shoves his hips forward, seating himself fully with a single thrust. You bite down on your lip to quiet your moan, curling your arms around your shoulders. He rocks into you with firm, quick strokes, his mouth covering yours. You can hear things on the desk rattling with each thrust, kisses growing less controlled as he hoists your thigh up around his hip.
“Oh, god,” You breathe, “We have to be quick—He’ll come looking—”
“Not until you cum for me again,” He urges. “I need to feel it, sweetheart.”
“Art—”
“When’s the last time he did this? Hmm?” He presses, “When’s the last time he made you cum? When’s the last time he tasted you?”
“Never,” You admit with a shiver. It seems to renew Art’s passion, his thrusts and hold growing more intense. You squeeze your eyes shut, hands hooking tightly in the fabric of his jacket. He yanks the front of your dress down, bowing over you and drawing one of your nipples between his lips. You whimper as he toys with the bud, tugging it gently with his teeth before swiping across it. You arch into the slick heat, using your leg to tug him even closer as you chased the swelling curl of your orgasm.
“Just like that,” You urge, “Ffffuck—yes, yesyesyesyes—”
Your eyes squeeze shut as your hips buck down against his, pussy pulsing as he spills into you. Your heart pounds in your chest as the two of you slow and still. Art rests his forehead heavily against your neck, peppering gentle kisses across the exposed skin. You have to move—now. You don’t know if anyone heard you, but if someone did, you’re screwed. If no one did, your husband will probably be looking for you anyway, ready with a scold for neglecting your hostess duties.
“...I have to go,” You warn softly. It takes Art a moment to move, but he does, gently drawing himself back from your still-throbbing cunt. You hear the clanking of his belt buckle as he tucks himself away, and you reach down, righting your dress where it’s been pulled away. You take up your panties from where they’d been discarded on the floor, tugging them on before you straighten your skirt and hurry out of the room.
--
“Can I see you?”
It’s only been an hour since the last guest has left, and you are so, so fucking tired. You glance toward the bathroom door. You know that you locked it, and you’re certain that your husband can’t hear you over the shower running, but you can’t help but be paranoid.
“You just saw me,” You remind him.
“Tomorrow,” Art clarifies.
“Where?”
“I’ll send an address.”
You bite your lip, toying with your earring. Your pussy is still aching from the stretch of him, your ass sore from getting fucked on the desk.
“...You regret it?” He asks.
“No,” You don't give your answer a second thought.
“I’ll send an address. Whether or not you see me is up to you. Just…think about it. Okay?”
“Okay.”
You lower your phone, hanging it up and watching his contact information blink away. It’s only a moment before a text with an address lights up your phone. You don’t have to think about it. You already know what you’re going to do.
--
You know that you’re staring, but you can’t bring yourself to stop. Art has spent so much time in your home, so you feel entitled to look around a little bit. You eye the row of trophies on his mantle, photos of him playing when he was young. You come to a stop at a picture of him with a young girl, a racket in her hand and a medal around her neck.
“Is this Lily?” You ask.
“Yeah,” He nods. “First competition.”
“Already getting gold,” You smile. “The Mark Rebellato Academy isn’t ready for her.”
Art chuckles, nodding as he steps around you.
“You, uh…You want something to eat, or drink, or…?” He trails off, tucking his hands into his pockets as he takes a couple of steps back toward his kitchen. You turn to face him, taking him in more fully.
“Art?”
“Yeah?”
“Why am I here?”
He doesn’t answer for a few moments. You can see him weighing his options before he comes closer.
“I…I’ve been thinking about last night.”
Fear shoots through you, but you force yourself to stand tall. “Okay.”
“I could lie and tell you that it should be a one-time thing, but I can’t remember the last time I got through a day without thinking about you. And I think you’ve been thinking about me, too.” Art stops as the tip of his shoes brush against yours, and you let your eyes slip closed as he rests his forehead against yours.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” He pleads. “Tell me to fuck off right now and I will never say another non-tennis related thing to you again.”
--
When he fucks you, he curls close, chest pressing against yours as he catches your lips in a kiss. You sink back against his pillows, your head cradled by his broad palm as he rolls his hips achingly slowly. You don’t bother to hide your whines and moans, and you revel in his. Every grunt and whimper and groan that Art lets out lights you up.
And when you cum, you don't have to quiet yourself. His name tumbles out of your mouth, cushioned between expletives as your nails dig into his shoulders.
--
"What time is he home tonight?"
You don't want to think about it. You want to stay in this cozy little bubble, trailing your fingers over his muscled chest as he massages your nape and kisses your forehead.
But you know that you'll have to let the world back in sometime.
"I don't know," You admit. "Late."
"...Could stay."
"He'll be suspicious if I'm not home when he gets there."
Art sighs softly, running his hand down to rub between your shoulder blades.
"This isn't going to be easy, is it."
"What?"
"Letting you go every day."
"Every day?" You tease, pushing yourself up to get a better look at him. "Don't get greedy, Mr. Donaldson."
He smiles, raising his hand and cupping your cheek. "Is it greedy to know what I want?"
You shake your head a little, lowering your lips to brush against his.
"Not when I want it, too."
part ii: what we're willing to accept
Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @amneris21
@ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity
@millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ;
@buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989
#Art Donaldson x Reader#Art Donaldson x You#Art Donaldson/Reader#Art Donaldson/You#Art Donaldson fic#Art Donaldson imagine#the pro
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Secret Admirer
Pairing: slytherin boys x reader
Summary: you never get mail in the morning, not until one day you receive a letter from an anonymous sender, a secret admirer. From that day forward, you’ve been getting letters, poems, and cute little notes each morning at breakfast. His words were sweet, and as you began to fall for them, your quest of figuring out who sent them only grew.
Word Count: 4.1k+
Masterlist
note: trying something new! basically I dont wanna spoil who her secret admirer is, so I’m gonna call it slytherin boys x reader hehe guess you’ll have to read til the end to see who sent her the letters ;)
✰ ✰ ✰
“Theodore Nott, I’m gonna kick your sorry ass!” You shouted.
You reached across the table in the great hall where Theo sat directly in front of you. He had stolen all of the bacon off of your breakfast plate and refused to give it up. Mornings were always quite hectic at the slytherin table, but this was downright unacceptable.
“Nope,” he smirked as he popped a piece into his mouth, “they were all out when I went up for breakfast. This bacon is mine now, sweetheart.”
You huffed, and sat back down in your seat. “You’re ridiculous. If you weren’t so damn late all the time, maybe you would have had some bacon of your own.”
“Here (Y/N),” Enzo smiled from his seat right next to you. “You can have some of my bacon.” He picked the best looking pieces and put them on your plate.
“Aw, Enzo!” You grinned as you picked a piece up and ate it happily. “This is why you're my best friend.”
“Hey!” Pansy shouted from the other side of you. “Thought I was your best friend.”
“You didn’t give up a piece of bacon for her,” Draco smirked, “you’ve been demoted.”
Mattheo gruffed. “Enzo, you’re kind of mean, you know that? (Y/N) complains she’s all out of bacon and you jump to give her a piece, but when I say I need someone to do my charms homework for me, you don’t even try to lift a finger.”
“Mattheo, how many times do I have to tell you,” Enzo said, “I’m never gonna do your homework. And it’s not fair to compare that to giving up a piece of bacon! I don't even like bacon all that much!”
“Dude!” Blaise gasped from next to Draco, “if you don’t like bacon you should have passed that down this way a long time ago.”
Pansy scoffed and shook her head. “I’m surrounded by idiots.”
“Hey,” you whined as you ate another piece of bacon, “I’m the least idiot of the bunch, right Pans?”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, (Y/N/N).”
You grinned, about to rebuttal when the morning owl dropped an envelope in front of you.
“What’s this?” You questioned as you picked it up.
“Uh, I think it’s quite obviously a letter, (Y/N/N).” Mattheo said as he stuffed his mouth full of bacon. “And, to think, you were trying to say you’re the least idiot of us.” He laughed.
“Oi,” Theo knocked his shoulder against Mattheo’s. “Leave her be. I’ve never seen her get a letter before, I’m curious.”
Draco shifted slightly in his seat. “Who’s it from, (Y/N/N)?”
“Nevermind who it’s from,” Blaise chuckled, “I wanna know what it says.”
“Why would you wanna know what it says and not know who it’s from?” Enzo asked, “That's like half the fun.”
You shrugged as you tore open the envelope. Opening the folds of the letter, your cheeks started to warm as you read what was inside.
“What is it?” Pansy asked as she leaned closer, trying to catch a glimpse.
“It says, uh,” you cleared your throat, a little bit flustered. “It says ‘people love to stare up at the stars, glimmering as they might in the night sky, yet everyone is too scared to enjoy the beauty that is the sun. you are my sun, and I would willingly go blind to catch even just a glimpse of you each day.’”
You friends all stared at you in shock. Draco, Blaise and Mattheo had their mouths hung open in shock. Enzo blushed a little bit, Theo had his eyebrows raised like he appreciated the words written on the page, and Pansy all but squealed as you read the letter.
“Oh my god, I think I’m going to combust,” Pansy swooned.
“Who’s it from?” Theo asked.
You shrugged, “I don’t know.” You flipped the letter to the back to see if it was signed at all. “It’s only signed with a heart.”
“That is so romantic!” Pansy squealed as she clasped her hands around your arm. “Our sweet (Y/N) has a secret admirer!”
“Wonder who it could be,” Draco said as he flicked his fingers in motion to hand him the letter.
You complied, and passed the note to him.
“I don’t know,” he said as he flipped it all around. “The handwriting sort of looks familiar.”
“Maybe it’s someone you know?” Theo suggested as he grabbed the letter from Draco’s hands. He took it upon himself to check it out a time or two before passing it to Mattheo’s eager grasp.
“I think it’s kind of funny,” Mattheo chuckled. “What if it’s some first year trying to make their move on you?”
You shuttered. “Merlin, I sure hope not. I honestly don’t think a first year would be able to write something so beautiful.”
“Yeah, no way,” Pansy shook her head. “Mattheo, you’re just jealous you weren’t the one who sent (Y/N) this letter. Maybe she’d give you a chance if you did something romantic, or just not annoying for once.”
“First,” Mattheo said, “ouch. Second, who says I’m not the one who wrote (Y/N) this love letter?”
“Mattheo, you wouldn’t know romance if it hit you with a ten foot pole.” Pansy said.
“Hey!” Mattheo complained. “Someone tell her I’m romantic.”
“Hell no,” Draco scoffed. “You’re ‘bout as romantic as bloody boil, mate.”
You laughed as Mattheo scrunched his face up. The bells chimed signaling the end of breakfast and the start of first class.
“I’m not too worried about it,” you said as you stood and started packing your stuff up. “It’s just a little letter. No harm in it.”
“But you don’t want to know who sent it?” Pansy asked as she grabbed her belongings as well.
You shrugged, “I don’t know yet. I’m not silly enough to expect something to come from this; it’s just a note. It could be a prank for all we know.”
“No one who writes like that is doing it as a prank,” Theo remarked.
“Well, still, whatever the reason may be, I’m not gonna go out looking for this person. No matter how sweet the words are.” You smiled, “I’m gonna head to class, bye guys.”
On your way to class, you couldn’t help but recite the words written in the letter. They had made your heart flutter, as stupid as that sounds. You slightly resented the way it made you feel as it was only a few measly words on paper, but the romantic part of you couldn’t help but want to know who was behind them.
✰ ✰ ✰
In your last class of the day, you finally were able to see your good friend Luna Lovegood. You had been waiting all morning to have class with her so you can inform her of the letter you received that morning.
“And it was just so poetic, Luna. No one has ever said anything like that about me before.”
She smiled at you as you mindlessly drew on your assignment. “I think it sounds quite lovely. Do you have any idea who it may be from?”
You shook your head. “No idea. I don’t even think I know anyone who writes, well, anything.”
“What about that boy Enzo you always hang out with?” Luna suggested. “I’ve got him in my literature class, he’s very talented.”
You thought to yourself for a second. Could it be possible Enzo was your secret admirer? You’d been friends for so long, and he’d always be especially kind to you.
Well, he’s especially kind to everyone, now that you think about it.
“I don’t know,” you honestly replied. “I guess I just never would have expected it to be one of my friends, let alone Enzo.”
“I wouldn’t rule out your group of friends,” Luna said with a smile, “it could really be any one of them.”
“You think so?”
“Well, maybe not all of them, but I think it could be a good place to start if you were wanting to figure out who it is.”
As you pondered over Luna’s words, Slughorn made it a point to reiterate there was no talking allowed during the assignment.
You rolled your eyes and got back to work, waiting for this class to be over so you could finally figure out who wrote you the letter.
✰ ✰ ✰
Back in the common room you saw Pansy, Draco, and Enzo sitting on the couches.
“Hey, (Y/N/N)!” Pansy smiled as she scooted over and patted the spot next to her. “Find out anything new about your secret admirer?”
You smiled with a roll of your eyes as you sat with her. You kicked your shoes off and folded your legs under your body. “No, but I think I’ve got an idea brewing of how to find them.”
“Oh,” Draco smirked from the couch across from you. He folded his arms over his chest, “do tell, (Y/N), I’m very curious to see who it could be.”
You shook your head, teasingly, “not a chance, Malfoy. I’m not giving up my secrets til I get to the bottom of this thing.”
Draco raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, doll, if you wanna be secretive about your already secret admirer, I respect it.”
Enzo shifted in his seat a little uncomfortably. “It’s kind of strange though that they went out of their way to write something to you but kept it a secret. It just makes me a little apprehensive.”
“Oh, chill out, scaredy cat,” Pansy said. “(Y/N) will be fine, and if it’s someone weird at least she’s got us to look out for her.”
You grinned and wrapped your arms around Pansy’s neck. “Quit getting all sweet on me, Pans.”
She chuckled and playfully pushed you away. “Yeah, yeah. I’m not getting sweet, don’t get it twisted.”
You chuckled. “I think I’m gonna head up, got lots of scheming to get to,” you teased with a wiggle of your eyebrows.
You stood up from the couch and Pansy stood with you. “Farewell, boys, it’s been awful as usual.” She said with a smirk.
“Thank Salazar you’re leaving,” Draco said to her. “Your presence was such a nuisance.”
Pansy snarled at him and dramatically turned away to head up the stairs. You and Enzo shared a short laugh before you followed her up the stairs to your shared bedroom.
✰ ✰ ✰
The next morning, you were last to the dining hall for breakfast.
“Finally, she makes it,” Mattheo called out before taking a swig of his orange juice.
You huff and settle into your seat between Enzo and Pansy. “I know, I overslept something horrible this morning.”
Since you were so late, the kitchen staff had already stopped serving breakfast meaning you were going without this morning.
Theo glanced at you from across the table and pushed his plate towards you. “Here,” he said, “take anything you want.”
You looked down at saw scrambled eggs, french toast, and sausage links on his plate.
“Really?” You grinned as you grabbed a sausage link from his plate.
Theo nodded, “yeah, can’t have you go without eating. Lord only knows what a monster you can be without food.” He teased with a small smirk.
You crinkled your nose up at his and grabbed a piece of french toast as well. “I’m gonna let that slide since you were nice enough to give up your breakfast. Don’t make me regret my kindness.”
Theo chuckled and pulled his plate back to him, glancing up at you before delving back into his plate.
Mattheo tried to reach his hand over to Theo’s plate but was met with a slap on the wrist.
“Ow!” Mattheo said as he cradled his wrist in fake hurt. “Theo, how could you? I thought we had something special.”
Theo rolled his eyes. “You got more food on your plate then the rest of us combined. I think you’ll be alright.”
You chuckled, but a thought crept into your mind. “Hey, guys, uh, did the post come today?” You asked.
Draco raised his eyebrow with a smirk. “Waiting for another letter, are we?”
Your face burned as you shrugged your shoulders. “I don’t know. I kinda wanna get to the bottom of who it is.”
“You’ll find ‘em, (Y/N/N),” Pansy said, “even if I have to interrogate everyone we know. We’ll get down to the bottom of it.”
Just as she said that, the morning owl came swooping down towards you and dropped a small slip of paper in front of you.
Draco smirked, “Looks like someone really wants your attention, (Y/N/N).”
You tried to hold back your smile as you unfolded the small post it note.
You couldn’t help the smile on your face as you read out to them, “'I love to see you smile, especially when you’re smiling at me.’ Aw, that’s kind of sweet, actually.”
“Don’t tell me you’re starting to get sweet for this mystery man,” Blaise interrupts.
You shrug as you fold the note back up. “I don’t know, it is pretty sweet, no? And this must mean it’s someone I know personally because they said I smile at them.”
“Oh Godric,” Mattheo grinned, “you’ve fallen for a mystery man.”
“No I haven’t!” You protest. “I just think it’s sweet and now I know it’s someone I’m friends with and not some creepy first year.”
“Wait,” Theo said, “how do you know it’s someone you’re friends with?”
“Because it says I smile at them,” you said obviously. “Who else do I smile at?”
“(Y/N), I hate to break it to you,” Pansy said as she placed a hand on your shoulder, “but you’re the most smiley slytherin I’ve ever met.”
You shrugged off her hand with a fake glare. “Hey! Give me some credit, I can be bad sometimes.”
Enzo chuckled, this is the first time he spoke all conversation. “You’re too sweet to be bad, (Y/N/N).”
You grinned and playfully bumped your shoulder against his. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I just know it’s someone I know. I can feel it. It’s not some random person, it can’t be.”
The bell rang, signaling the end of breakfast. You and your friends stood up to leave. You couldn’t help but think about the notes you received, pondering on who it could possibly be.
✰ ✰ ✰
“Post is running late this morning,” Draco noted as the clock struck 8:26 with no sight of the morning owl.
You were a tad disappointed. You had pondered all day yesterday about who it could be. You’ve narrowed it down quite a bit, and you think Luna may be on to something. While you don’t exactly think for sure that it’s Enzo, you do think you’ve narrowed it down to your group of close friends.
You really just can’t see anyone else knowing you well enough to be this fascinated with you. The only one out of your friend group that you completely had ruled out is Blaise.
Blaise was definitely out because out of the whole friend group, he was the least close with you. Frankly, you guys just don’t talk nearly as much as you talk to the rest of them.
“Great,” Mattheo gruffed, “how will I be entertained this morning without (Y/N)‘s secret stalker and his confession of love.”
Okay, maybe Mattheo was out too.
“Oi,” Theo piped up. “Don’t knock it too hard, (Y/N) seems to be enjoying herself with the letters.”
You blushed a little as you shrugged. “I don’t want to seem weird by how invested I am in it, but I just think it’s sweet. No one’s ever really expressed this kind of feeling for me, so… you know,” you shrugged awkwardly, your face definitely beet red by now.
“Well I for one am extremely invested in this,” Pansy said. “I’m lowkey jealous that I’m not the one with a secret admirer. What I wouldn’t give for someone to think of me that way.”
“Maybe someday someone will like you, Pansy,” Enzo said reassuringly.
“We might all be dead by the time that happens, but who knows, it might happen,” Mattheo said.
Pansy gasped with a glare. “Wow what crawled up your ass this morning?”
Mattheo shrugged and focused his attention back to his breakfast plate.
“Anyway,” Draco said, “I’m intrigued as well. I think I’ve got an idea who it could be, but I'm not quite positive.”
You parked up at that. “Really? Who’s your guess?”
Draco smirked, “Wouldn’t you like to know.” He teased.
You glared at him, “Malfoy, if you know who it is you better spill.”
“I’m not saying I know who it is, I’m just saying I have a hunch at who it may be.”
“Oh!” Enzo exclaims as he points up in the air, “here comes the owl.”
You grin in anticipation as the owl drops a little note down in front of you. It was a larger note than yesterday, but this time it didn’t have something sweet written on it.
It had a clue.
“It just says ‘being your friend is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, though I’d be lying if I said i didn’t want to be more.’” You read.
“So it is one of you!” Pansy shouted as she pointed her finger towards everyone at the table.
Draco smirked, “that was my hunch. ‘Had a feeling it was one of these blokes.”
“And who says it’s not you, Malfoy?” Mattheo questioned with a raise of his brow.
“Please,” Draco scoffed, “if I wanted to woo (Y/N) she’d be mine by now.”
“Oh big talk from down that end,” Pansy rolled her eyes.
“I could get anyone I want,” Draco puffed his chest. “I don’t need to be anonymous to do so.”
“Hey, don’t hate on my letters, Draco.” You complained. “Least they got the balls to say something.”
“Barely counts as having balls when they won’t even say who they are.” Mattheo countered.
You huffed as your table fell into somewhat of a silence. Conversations picked up without you as your thoughts trailed off.
Theo had been extremely quiet this entire time. While he was never the chatter bug, it was odd having gone almost the entire breakfast without hearing from him.
As everyone else was engaged in conversation, you stared at the boy sitting across from you. His head was down as he played with his breakfast, pushing it around with his fork.
You lightly kicked his leg under the table.
Theo’s head perked up. His eyes stared into yours, and for a moment, you couldn’t remember what you wanted to say to the boy.
His eyebrow raised in question as a small smirk glazed his lips.
You blushed a little. “I-uh just wanted to see if you were alright. You didn’t really say too much the whole time we’ve been here.��
Theo shrugged as his smile dropped. “yeah, just don’t got too much input.”
Your heart swelled. You really had turned each morning to revolve around you and your secret pen pal.
“Sorry, Theo. I didn't mean to annoy you with all my talk of the letters.”
He shook his head. “You could never annoy me, doll.”
Your heart beat like crazy.
“Still, though, I feel bad about how much I’ve put into this. Let’s talk about something else.” You offered, “how’s class going?”
Theo chuckled and ran a hand through his tousled hair. “Shit. I’m drowning in assignments and got two quizzes coming up that I’m just not ready for.”
The bell rang.
Theo groaned. “Got one next class. I think I might skip, though. Give myself some more time to prepare for it.”
As everyone started walking out of the dining hall, you grabbed Theo’s arm and pulled him back.
His eyes widened slightly, but quickly reverted back to normal.
“Maybe I‘ll skip with you,” you said, “if you’ll have me, that is. I can help you study. What class is it?”
Theo hesitated. “It’s, uh, herbology. ‘m not very good with plants and all that.”
You grinned, “I can help! I’m not too bad with flowers and plants.”
Theo nodded, “yeah, I could really use the help.”
“Okay, you wanna go to the library then?”
Theo shook his head. “I’ve got a good spot. Come on.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you with him.
You followed him all the way out to the courtyard towards the opposite end of the school. You walked until you reach a large bench with intricate designs on the backing and arm rests.
Theo took a seat. “Figured this would be good as any. Least now we can look at some plants up close, eh?”
You chuckled and took a seat next to him. “Yeah, sounds great, Theo. You got your textbook?”
He nodded and dug through his bag to pull it out. Once he handed it to you, you started flipping through the pages to get to the important material.
“I’ve got the herbology exam 4th period, so I can help you study and it’ll help me study too! Win, win.”
Theo grinned and ran a hand through his hair. “Sounds good, doll.”
Your cheeks blushed. You couldn’t help the smile that graced your face. “I like when you call me doll.”
Your smile dropped. “Oh, geez, I did not mean to say that out loud.”
Theo’s face remained blank. That just made you more nervous.
“Great, now I’ve weirded you out.” You exasperated. “I’m really sorry, Theo, I didn’t mean to-“
“I’m not weirded out, doll.” He cut you off. “Was just a little stunned is all. Didn’t expect you to say something like that.”
You thought your face couldn’t get any hotter than it already was, but somehow it did.
“Well, still,” you mumbled as you looked down at the textbook again, “sorry.”
Theo sat for a minute, watching as you flipped through the book. Your eyebrows furrowed a little in aggravation. You were annoyed at yourself for how stupid you were being. It was Theo for Salazar sake.
Though, you couldn’t help but admire the boy. He was gorgeous, for one, but he was also charming and witty. He was sweet and generous. You couldn’t deny you were attracted to him, but you had never thought he would see you in the same light.
“(Y/N)?” Theo called.
You looked up into his eyes.
Theo stared at you, taking in each one of your features. Your eyes, your lips, your nose. You shifted a little, way too aware of his gaze on you.
“Theo?” You called back. His gaze shifted back to your eyes.
Before you could say anything, he softly spoke, “I’m the one sending you those letters, (Y/N/N).”
You stared at him in shock.
No way.
“Y-you’re the one who wrote me the letters?”
He slowly nodded his head. Theo’s lip was drawn in between his teeth. “Is, uh, are you disappointed?”
“What?” you exclaimed.
He shrugged, “I mean, you just really seemed to like the letters, and I know you wanted to know who it was, so I just hope I haven’t disappointed you in the revelation.”
You shook your head. “Actually, it’s quite the opposite.”
Theo’s head shot up to look at you. “Really?”
You smiled and nodded. “Mhm, I like you Theo. I have for a while now, actually, I just thought you’d never give a chance.”
He laughed. “You thought I’d never give you a chance? I thought you’d never give me a chance.”
You laughed loudly together. When it finally subsided to quiet chuckles, you said, “I really like you, Theo.”
Theo’s smile grew. In a quick moment, he grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you in for a kiss.
You gasped against his lips, and wrapped your arms around his neck as you kissed him back. His textbook fell off your lap as he pulled you closer by the waist.
You kissed him until you couldn’t kiss anymore. Finally pulling back, Theo’s grin was the cutest thing you’ve ever seen, even with his lips a little puffy from your kiss.
“I really like you, Theodore.”
He grinned, “I really like you, more (Y/N).”
#AHHHHH#THIS TOOK ME SO LONG#PLS DONT LET IT FLOP#draco mafloy#theodore not#mattheo riddle#enzo berkshire#blaise zabini#harry potter#draco malfoy x reader#theodore nott x reader#theo nott x reader#mattheo riddle x reader#enzo berkshire x reader#lorenzo berkshire#lorenzo berkshire x reader#slytherin x reader#slytherin boys x reader#slytherin boys#cedric diggory#george weasley#fred weasley#ron weasley
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nurse
Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader
Summary: Ghost avoids you but it's not what you think.
Warning: Slight Time Skips, Kinda Asshole Ghost?, Smut (18+), Use of Y/N, Language (?).
Word Count: 4.6K
Note: Now, I know in my master list I said that right now I would only be writing for the Slytherin Boys......but I have spiraled back into my Call of Duty, specifically Ghost. Now this is just an experiment, I don't know how this will go over but if you guys like it then maybeeee I'll post my other fandom fics that I have.
Also! This is a birthday gift for my beautiful gem, @slytherinslut0 , so everyone thank her and wish her a happy birthday. As always, @cafekitsune is on the banner.
Taskforce 141 didn’t pay any attention when they were told that they would have a new nurse on the base. They assumed it would be another male, just like everyone who got employed here.
So, only one could imagine their shock when the base’s doctor, Dr. Moscaw, introduced a pretty little thing like you to the team.
“This is Y/N. She will work under me. Your first point of contact for anything medical-wise.” Moscaw spoke, “Don’t go scaring her off, boys.”
There were grumbles and protests as Dr. Moscaw left you with the team. You cleared your throat as you gave them all a nervous smile. All their eyes were on you, surveying you almost like prey. A certain man with a skull mask being the most intense one. “Um, right. You all desperately need an annual check-up. So, whenever you all have a moment, please stop by the medical ward. I would love to update your records and meet you all.”
Before any of them could say anything, you had scurried off.
Over the next few weeks, they all came in one by one. Introducing themselves as you went through updating their records.
First came Captain Price. You liked to think that he came in to lead by example and not to get out of his mountain of paperwork. Then Kyle came in the next day. He begged you to call him “Gaz”, saying that nobody on base ever calls him Kyle.
Not long after Gaz came, Johnny waltzed into your office. He was flirty but overall friendly. Johnny, just like Gaz, begged you to call him Soap like everyone else. He was the one who referred to you as a breath of fresh air amidst the testosterone-filled air. Often, he and Gaz came to your office. They always claimed to be checking up on you, but you knew it was because they were hiding from their duties.
“Where is…. um, Ghost? Or is his name Simon? It’s two first names on this file.” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows at the lack of information in his records. Soap chuckled, glancing up from his phone to you. “Ghost is the name he’s gonna give ‘ya. It’s the name that we all know him by.”
“A field name, I assume?” You asked, looking up from your computer. Gaz and Soap nodded. “Yep. His name for plenty of reasons, but that’s neither here nor there.” Gaz waved his hand dismissively.
“Well, is he going to come in for a check-up? He doesn’t have another doctor or anything listed.” You sighed. “His medical record is empty. There is nothing on here, other than his name and height. No birthday, no past medication history, nothing.”
“Of course, that’s all that’s on there. That’s all anyone knows about him.” Soap laughed. “He’s not gonna come in here for a check-up.”
“What? Why not?” You asked, closing your computer.
“Too much information.” Gaz shrugged. “Nobody knows anything about him. It’s a shocker that he even allowed his real name to be on those records.”
“So, nobody knows if this guy even goes to the doctor?” You threw your hands up in exasperation. “That’s insane.”
“Ya may be right, but that means nothing to Ghost.” Soap said.
“And insane is basically his middle name. The man does whatever he wants.” Gaz added.
“Do you think he will come in if I just ask?” You pondered to the men.
Gaz and Soap glanced at each other before shrugging. “If you bat those pretty eyelashes at any man on this base, they’ll be eating out the palm of your hand,” Soap said.
“But Ghost isn’t like the average man. He’s not easily swayed like most.” Gaz added, “But I mean, it won’t hurt to try.”
With the encouragement from Gaz and Soap to just try to ask him, you spent the next few weeks attempting to track Ghost down. Unfortunately for you, he lived up to his name very well. It was like every time you went looking for him, everyone had “just seen him.”
Eventually, you found him, by pure coincidence. You were walking to your car, getting ready to leave the base for the day when your eyes landed on a 6’4, muscular man who donned a skull balaclava. You hadn’t seen him since the day that Price had introduced you to the team. He seemed bigger and a bit more intimidating than before, but your determination outweighed your nervousness.
You walked up to him, clearing your throat. Ghost stopped fiddling with his motorcycle to drag his eyes up to your face. His eyes were dark and analytical as he scanned your face before tracing down your body. You felt self-conscious of his wondering gaze.
“Whatcha ‘ya want?” His voice was deep, his accent coming out heavier than you thought it was.
“Um, I’m the new nurse.” You squeaked out before clearing your throat.
“I know.”
“Right.” You took a deep breath. “Your medical records are empty and you’re the only one who hasn’t come in for a check-up.”
There was a brief silence between you two as you waited for him to say something, anything. When you got the hint that he wasn’t going to say anything, you decided to just push forward and ask.
“Will you come in for one? And maybe introduce yourself a little more?”
Ghost stared at you a little longer before turning back to his motorcycle. “No.”
Your eyes widened at the blatant refusal. You raised your eyebrow, crossing your arms. “What do you mean ‘no’?”
“Do ‘ya not know what ‘no’ means? Aren’t ‘ya educated?” Ghost grunted; his back still turned to you.
“You can’t just…. You must fill out these records somehow!”
“No, I don’t.”
You narrowed your eyes at Ghost, huffing slightly. “It’s mandatory to at least get an annual check-up.”
“So, I’ve heard. Don’t care.” He spoke again, throwing one leg over the motorcycle. He started it up, gripping the handles. His eyes focused on your face again as he revved the engine.
“But-”
Before you could even think about responding, Ghost had sped off, leaving you in the dust.
“And he just sped off?” Soap laughed. Gaz smacked his arm, giving you an apologetic look.
“Ignore Soap. He has a terrible sense of humor.” Gaz rolled his eyes. “But we told you he was hard to sway.”
“I just don’t understand why he doesn’t want to come in.” You groaned, “Maybe he just doesn’t want to get to know me?”
“It’s Ghost, you aren’t supposed to understand him.” Gaz shrugged. “But I doubt it’s you that he’s against.”
You let another groan, causing the two men to chuckle.
“Hell, Darlin’, you might just make the man nervous as hell. As you can see, we don’t have many pretty females around here.” Soap leaned back in his chair, grinning at you.
“Me? Make Ghost nervous? Please.” You raised an eyebrow, rolling your eyes. Soap shrugged, “You never know, he could be.”
“You never know,” Gaz said, agreeing with Soap.
“Whatever.” You muttered, ending the conversation.
Weeks had passed and Ghost gave no sign of even considering stepping into the medical ward or trying to talk to you. He evaded you any chance he got. You told Dr. Moscaw and Price about the predicament with Ghost. Both waved it off and said, “He’s Ghost, that’s just how he is.
When your official first three months of working on the base had come around, Soap and Gaz had invited you out to the bar to celebrate.
“It’ll be everyone. Cap, Laswell, König, hell, even Ghost said he would come.” Soap smiled at you. You scoffed slightly at the revelation that Ghost was going to show his masked face at the bar. “Are we sure he’s coming for me, or rather, the drinks?” You asked, your eyes focused on the computer screen in front of you.
Gaz chuckled. “He refused to go until we said it was a celebration for you.”
“Funny that the man that evades me wants to come to my celebration.” You muttered.
“You know, he’s probably around you more than you think,” Soap said, causing you to look up at him with a raised eyebrow. Soap shrugged, continuing, “I mean, he’s known for being around without others knowing, hence the name Ghost.”
“Like he sees me, but I don’t see him?” You asked. Soap and Gaz nodded.
“Think of it like he is collecting information on you. The poor guy lives and breathes our missions and the military. It’s all he knows. It works with the idea that you make the man nervous.” Gaz said, patting your back as he and Soap filed out of your office.
Gaz’s and Soap’s words stuck to you. Maybe you had gone about approaching Ghost all wrong. He was quieter than Gaz and Soap and obviously more secretive, given the blank medical record and the mask. Maybe you should let him approach you, let him feel you out to see if you’re trustworthy or not.
When the night of the celebration rolled around, you promised yourself that you would not pester Ghost. Despite the growing need to get to know him and your nursing instincts to make sure he was healthy; you were going to let him come to you.
You walked into the bar, tugging slightly at your dress that rose from sitting in the taxi. Your black mini dress hugged your curves and had a low neckline that showed off your cleavage with your matching strappy heels. Although Soap and Gaz had to you to come dressed up, you debated calling the taxi back and going home to change. You were going to be with your co-workers, who were most likely going to be in jeans.
You sighed, pushing open the door to the bar. Your eyes snapped over to the large table in the back of the bar where all your coworkers sat. “Y/N!” Gaz yelled, jumping up from his seat. He grabbed your arm, escorting you to the table. Everyone shot you a smile, except König and Ghost, who both donned a balaclava. Although, you could tell from the crinkle in König’s eyes that he was smiling at you.
“The guest of honor is finally here.” Laswell smiled at you. “Congratulations on sticking it out at the base for three months. I must admit, I thought these boys would scare you away by now.”
“No, I’m tougher than I look.” You joked, “Plus, everyone is nice. I felt welcomed.”
Gaz and Soap gave Ghost an unmistakable side eye that you caught, and if you caught it, then everyone at the table caught it. You also didn’t miss the narrowed eyes that Ghost gave back to Gaz and Soap.
“A round of shots! For our new family member.” Price winked at you, giving you a warm smile.
That’s how the night went on, chatting and drinks getting passed around. It didn’t take you long to get buzzed. You kept true to your promise to yourself and didn’t go looking for interactions with Ghost.
However, you felt his eyes on you. It was like they never left you, always following your every movement.
It felt familiar.
Ghost stayed quiet the whole night, not cracking a chuckle at any jokes or taking part in the conversations. His eyes wandered the bar as if he was looking for any type of escape. Whenever your eyes met his, he looked away, his eyes hardening in the process.
“I have to go to the bathroom.” You said, feeling the alcohol finally run through you and back up your throat. Although everyone was too occupied with their conversations to hear you. You stumbled your way to the bathroom, pushing open the door. You wasted no time, bending over the toilet and vomiting what little contents that were in your stomach.
“I knew I should’ve eaten before….” You whispered to yourself.
“Yeah, ‘ya should have. Not very nurse of ‘ya.” A deep voice echoed behind you.
You jumped, turning around, clutching your chest as your eyes landed on Ghost. He stood behind you, arms crossed, as he leaned against the stall door.
“God, when the fuck did you get in here?” You asked, your eyes traveling down his figure. This would be the first time that you had ever seen Ghost in civilian clothes. Even on relaxed days on the base, Ghost wore full tactical gear. Tonight, he opted for a compression tee and black sweatpants, as if he was planning to go to the gym after all of this.
Which wouldn’t be surprising for Ghost.
“I didn’t know you had tattoos.” Your eyes landed on his sleeve, which seemed to move as he unconsciously flexed his muscles.
“I know ‘ya didn’t.” Ghost said, offering his hand out to you. You took it gratefully, standing up to your two feet. Ghost handed you some mouthwash and gum, along with your purse.
“Didn’t want nobody shifting through ‘ya stuff.” Ghost said when he saw the look that you gave him, “Also thought ‘ya might want to touch up ‘ya make up.”
“Thank you.” You gave him a small smile. He nodded, turning on his heel to leave out the bathroom. You swigged the mouthwash around, spitting into the sink. You freshen up your makeup before popping the piece of gum in your mouth.
You made your way back to the table, sitting down when a waitress came and dropped a personal pan of pepperoni pizza in front of you with water. “Oh,” You looked up at her, “I didn’t order this.”
“One of your friends ordered it for you. Told me to bring it when you came back to your seat.” She smiled and walked away. You glanced down at the pizza with a smile. Pizza was your favorite greasy food; it matched the rumbling of your drunk stomach perfectly.
You looked up at Soap and Gaz, the only two people who would know about your guilty pleasure food. Soap was leaning against the table flirting with another waitress while Gaz made bets with Price on football games. You decided you would thank one of them later when they weren’t busy.
4 am finally rolled around, causing the night to end. Gaz had called you a cab, walking you out as everyone said their goodbyes. Ghost had already mounted his motorcycle and sped off into the night. Once Gaz got you settled in the backseat, you smiled at him. “Thanks, Gaz. Oh, and thank you for the pizza, too.”
Gaz raised his eyebrow. “What pizza?”
“The pizza you ordered me when I went to the bathroom.” You clarified.
“I didn’t order you a pizza, hell, I didn’t even know you went to the bathroom.” Gaz said before chuckling a bit with a mischievous smirk, “The only person who ordered food was Ghost.”
Before you could ask anything more, Gaz tapped the roof of the car and your taxi pulled off.
You went even longer without seeing Ghost after the bar. It was almost as if he had just disappeared into thin air. You tried to question Gaz and Soap, but they claimed they knew nothing about it. Saying that it was probably a “lucky guess” but if anything they had told you about Ghost was true, nothing he did was just a lucky guess.
You pushed all your questions to the back of your mind, as you knew you weren’t going to get any answers any time soon. You were cleaning up the office as your day was ending. 141 were out on a mission, a relatively relaxed one, so your office was quiet and easy to pack up rather than having to tell Soap to stop touching stuff every 5 minutes.
You hummed to yourself, not taking notice that your office door had swung open.
“You’re terrible at being aware of ‘ya surroundings.”
You jumped, a squeal falling from your mouth. “You have to stop doing that!”
Ghost stood at your door, in sweatpants and a hoodie. His arms crossed as he stared at you through his mask. He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. You suddenly felt small like the room was closing in on you due to Ghost’s tall frame.
“What are you doing here?” You asked. Ghost’s eyes seemed to widen, as if he wasn’t sure why he was there either.
“Give me a check-up.”
You raised an eyebrow at him, glancing over at the clock. It was 7:35 pm, and the base was basically empty.
“It can’t wait til tomorrow?” You asked. Ghost took a step closer to you, “I thought you wanted to get to know me?”
“I do but-”
“Then give me the check-up.” Ghost grunted, sitting on the bench. His large frame made the normally large bench look small under him.
You sighed softly, getting out your equipment to start his check-up. You stay silent as you slip on your latex gloves after washing your hands. “So, I’m guessing something happened on the mission.”
Ghost looked over to you, his eyes coated in a small dose of confusion. “What?”
“I mean, you seemed very adamant about not getting a check-up before and now you’re here after a mission. I just assumed maybe something happened.” You clarified as you moved to check his heartbeat.
It took everything in you not to let your hands wander across his chest as you pulled away from him to turn to your computer and record the data.
“Nothing happened. Just built up some confidence.” He said, getting off the bench to stand behind you closely.
“O-oh…. confidence for what?” You took a deep breath, your eyes focusing on the computer screen.
Ghost didn’t answer your question, instead, he grabbed your shoulders and spun you around to face him. “You’re very annoying, you know that?”
“What?” Your eyes widened.
“You’re always around, smelling good. In these scrubs that hug your body tighter than any other scrubs I’ve ever seen.” Ghost muttered, “Always laughing at Soap’s stupid jokes. Always getting pizza when you know you aren’t supposed to.”
“I try to avoid you and ignore you, but you just crawl your little ass into my mind anyways. All mission…. just thinking and wondering what you’re doing.” Ghost continued.
“Is this your way of admitting that you’ve been thinking about me?” You asked.
Ghost stayed silent. His eyes stay trained on you, no words or sounds coming from him. His hand moved to take a piece of your hair and twirling it around his finger.
“Um, we should finish the check-up so we can go.” You spoke softly. Ghost ignored you, dipping his face into your neck. He took a deep breath. “God, you smell heavenly.”
“Ghost....”
“I need you.” He grumbled, “I need you all around me. I’ve learned everything I can about you and all I can think about is how I need to feel about you.”
“How I need to ruin you.”
You felt a knot in your stomach at his words, heat pooling inside you. “R-ruin me?”
“Beyond belief.” Ghost confirmed, “Give me the green light.”
You stayed silent as Ghost pushed his knee between your legs, pressing his knees gently against your core, causing a whimper to fall from your mouth. He lifted his mask to reveal his lips, pressing against your neck in soft, wet kisses. “Y/N. Answer me.”
“I….” You gasped for air, “P-please…do it.”
Ghost didn’t need to hear anything else. He lifted you easily, throwing you on the bench. He yanked your top off, groping your breast. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about these since the bar. So soft and plump…” Ghost grumbled, pulling your bra down and latching his mouth to your nipple.
A small moan fell from your mouth at the actions. His tongue swirled around your nipple before he pulled away with a slight “pop”. He left a trail of kisses down your chest to your naval. He tugged down your pants, throwing them in the same direction as your top. He groaned at the sight of the wet spot in your panties.
“So wet and ready for me. Huh, love?” Ghost said, blowing softly on your clothed clit.
You whined softly, nodding your head. He slapped your thigh, his eyes looking up at you. “I want to hear use your words. Let me hear that pretty voice that has been plaguing my mind for these past few months.”
You let out a sigh as Ghost pressed the pad of his tongue to your slit through your panties, teasing you. “Yes…. I’m wet and ready for you.”
“Good fucking girl, Lovie.” Ghost chuckled, moving your panties to the side to latch his mouth to your clit. He sucked and lapped at your clit harshly, your moans becoming uncontrollable as he ate you out like a starved man. His tongue teased your slit, flicking his tongue up and down.
He gripped your thighs tighter, pulling you closer to him. His nose pressed against your clit, stimulating you more and more. “Oh God, fuck, Ghost.” You moaned, your hands reaching out to grip the top of his balaclava.
“That’s right. I want you moaning my name like it’s the only thing that pretty little mind knows.” Ghost muttered, slipping two fingers into you as he kept lapping up all your juices. Your thighs tightened around his face as you felt your climax coming.
Ghost groaned at the action, his cock twitching with anticipation. You tossed your head back as pleasure coursed through your body. “I’m about to cum, fuck, I’m s’close.”
Your words seem to push Ghost further into sending you over the edge. His tongue moved faster against you as his fingers matched his pace. Your mind was blanking from the orgasm that rushed over your body. Ghost pulled his fingers out slowly as he pulled away from your swollen clit. His mouth was covered in your slick as he smirked. “Taste so sweet, Angel.” He spoke.
He pushed his two fingers into your mouth, groaning at the warmth of it. You suck on his fingers, tasting yourself on them as you swirled your tongue around. “Such a good, eager girl. So happy to taste yourself on my fingers.” Ghost whispered, pushing them down your throat so he could hear your gags.
Ghost pulled away, yanking his sweatpants and boxers down. His cock sprang out, revealing its large length. It hit his abdomen; the tip leaking with pre-cum. Your eyes looked down at him, eyes widening at the sight. “My God….” You whispered.
Ghost grabbed the base of his shaft, jerking himself off slightly before pulling you to the edge of the bench and wrapping one of your legs around his waist while propping the other one on his shoulder. “I need this pretty pussy wrapped around my cock, taking every inch of me.” Ghost growled. He rubbed his tip up and down your slick, coating it in it.
“Tell me how much you want this, Lovie. How bad do you want me to fuck you?” Ghost demanded; his eyes focused on you. You let out a whiny moan, looking up at him, “Please fuck me. I want your cock so bad.”
Ghost pushed into you, filling you up slowly but surely. Ghost groaned, sinking into you until he was fully inside you. “S’fucking tight. Gonna fuck this pretty cunt until it’s molded to only take my cock.” Ghost groaned, snapping his hips forward for a forceful thrust. A guttural moan fell from your mouth, as Ghost gripped your throat with both hands, pounding into you at a ruthless pace.
“M’been dreaming of this since the day I laid eyes on your fucking application picture.” Ghost muttered, “Such a pretty fucking girl. Batting your eyelashes at everyone.”
Ghost’s hands moved down to your hips, his fingers digging into your soft flesh. Your moans were drowned out by the loud slapping of your skin. If it wasn’t for the way that Ghost was viciously railing you, you would be concerned that someone would walk past and hear you.
“Such a fucking whore. Getting fucked in your office…. you like being railed after work? Hmm?” Ghost hissed out as you clenched around him.
“You look s’pretty being full of my cock.” Ghost muttered, leaning down to kiss and nip your neck. You whined, feeling another knot form in your stomach. You clenched around Ghost, making him groan. “M’close…. s’close…” You spoke in between moans.
“Go ahead and make a mess on my cock, baby. Cum all over this cock like the slut you are.” Ghost demanded. It didn’t take long for your legs to shake and for Ghost’s cock to be drenched in your climax. He slowed his thrusts, pulling out of you. You whimpered at the lost feeling.
“Get up, Lovie. I want to cum all in that pretty mouth of yours.” Ghost said, pulling you off the bench and to your knees. You looked up at him as he pumped himself. Slapping his cock against your lips, you opened your mouth to let him slip in.
“S’fucking warm. Fucking made to take my dick in every fucking hole you have.” Ghost muttered, his hand snaking around the back of your head to shove his dick further down your throat. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you tasted all your juices that drenched his cock. Saliva trailed down your chin as Ghost thrust in and out of your mouth at an unforgiving pace. “A fucking slut you are, taking my dick so well. Fuck.” Ghost groaned as his hip stuttered slightly. His cock twitched in your mouth before ropes of cum shot down your throat.
Your eyes screwed shut as Ghost stayed deep in your throat, making sure you swallowed all his cum. He pulled out, bending down to level as you looked up at him. “So, this was going through your mind all this time.” You spoke breathlessly.
“Shocked, Lovie?” Ghost smirked, lifting you back to your feet.
“A little.” You nodded. Ghost tilted your head back to press a rough but gentle kiss to your lips. “Well, I suggest you get used to it because there will be more of that.”
“So, you made your move, huh?” Soap grinned wickedly at Ghost, who sat further down the table. Ghost’s eyes shot to Soap’s as he narrowed them at the man.
“Don’t even try to deny it, LT.” Gaz said, his eyes staying trained on his phone. “All the talk around the base is how a certain skull mask-wearing lieutenant is attached to the hip of the pretty little nurse.”
“She must’ve really made you nervous if it took you almost three months to make a move on her.” Soap teased.
“I did more than make a move on her, Sergeant.” Ghost spoke, “That pretty little nurse is now my pretty little nurse.”
Ghost smirked underneath his mask as he looked between Gaz and Soap. “So, it would do you both good to watch your hands the next to you hug her. Would hate to have to break your fingers off for wandering too far for your own good.”
Without another word, Ghost sauntered out of the meeting room, leaving Soap and Gaz dumbfounded.
“Hm, I was wondering when that boy was going to make a move.” Price hummed from his spot, “All that begging to hire her to this base and took nearly four months to even talk to her.”
“Wait, what? Ghost knew about her before she even got to base?” Gaz asked.
“Ghost was the one who pulled her application.” Price said, “Said ‘his future girl’ had applied, and I needed to get her on base.”
Gaz and Soap looked at each other before sighing. Of course, Ghost knew you before you knew him.
Because it wouldn’t be Ghost if he didn’t.
#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#call of duty#modern warfare#simon riley#cod modern warfare#cod mw2#cod x reader
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Pt III good omens but i STILL SOMEHOW haven't watched it (and i'm increasingly passive aggressive)
i'm now basically held hostage adopted as mascot by this fandom. it's fine i'm fine *SIGNALS FOR HELP DESPERATELY*
Alright fuckers I swear this time I'm going to get some shit right. Without further ado, here's my third attempt at a good omens summary:
Everything everywhere is queer all at once
Angel Aziraphale and demon Crowley on earth likey each other
The car is a bentley and it is BLACK not silver and everyone is very upset about this. my bad yall it was reflecting light therefore i guessed more silver than black but I'm not Anish Kapoor take your black.
Then it is yellow, and aziraphale likes it. crowley preferred the black because he's a flamboyant emo.
God is a deadbeat absentee parent and you are all children of divorce.
There's a naked archangel and they cause problems for the husbands somehow. By being naked? By being an archangel? By being at their doorstep? Who knows not me
They were actually married for 6000 years, they just are the last to know about it.
Crowley is on fire. Like, he's slaying for sure, but also he is literally on fire, like Aziraphale's bookstore.
The actors like I said before are Michael Sheen and David Tennant but this is the place where I finally admit that I don't actually know who is whom. I'm going to assume Michael is Aziraphale because Michael sounds angel-y and David is Crowley because uh Michaelangelo made David and was gay for him.
Terry Pratchett is not fictional.
He co-wrote the book with @neil-gaiman, who IS fictional, because he does not have social media. Several of you have assured me that he is in fact a fandom inside joke. I like to think he would be proud of me.
They adopt a preteen and Crowley gives him bad advice.
At some point a baby was delivered to someone and was exchanged for the son of Satan. Idk if the baby is the preteen, or the son of satan is the preteen, or neither. This could be a fanfic, I have no way of differentiating the fanfic from canon on tumblr, except that the canon is weirder.
Crowley does not go down a chute. He goes down a telephone cord after making himself microscopic to pole dance on a pin with shroom-induced backgrounds.
During this his stage name is Disco Tony. Get it king go slay you're making better life choices than I am tbh.
Aziraphale is a biblically accurate angel, and you have all gone to extensive lengths to prove this to me. I understood nothing, but there you go.
It's all very queer, just like the fandom.
Crowley is a retired demon but he still sins by breaking the speed limit.
They eat at fancy restaurants and bicker but like in a sexual undercurrent way.
Crowley gives Aziraphale a private dance that is not a lap dance, it is an apology dance, but not in a kinky way, until it is.
Their haircuts keep changing and range from 'this is acceptable and gay' to 'i let a drunk chimpanzee take gardening shears and a blowtorch to my hair'
It's all ineffably queer my good fellows
Everyone keeps trying to convince me Neil Gaiman is the villain yeah no guys I know it's really you. Y'all be like 'SEASON TWO BROKE ME' and then you're making headcanons to make it sadder yeah I see you mmhm.
There is a final fifteen. It is sad. What is it? No one told me.
The demon turns goats into crows and the angel turns them back and then children are turned into newts (does the angel turn them back? who cares not yall) and the demon was the snake in the Eden garden and everyone's furry game seems to be on point.
There are a rather lot of children. I have not seen them. But I am assured they are there. They are, guys. I assume they were turned into the alcohol Aziraphale and Crowley drink or something.
There was an apocalypse plotline. It was averted. It is not important. You don't talk about plotlines in this fandom, no sir.
Crowley doesn't want to go to heaven. Aziraphale is sad.
The kiss is not nice, just like this fandom. It is queer, just like this fandom. It is sad and desperate and masochistic, just like this fandom.
Aziraphale doesn't want to stay back with Crowley. Crowley is sad.
Season 2 ends. Fandom is sad.
Everyone's sanity is hinging on the promise of a happy ending in season 3. Good luck guys.
Y'all better appreciate this. I can't even boast to my mother about this legacy of mine, hey mum your son has been held hostage kidnapped inducted into a cult adopted by a fandom he's not part of look he's winning at life.
#good omens#good omens fandom#ineffably queer#good omens summary#good ineffable omens#aziraphale#crowley#azirafell#aziracrow#azirowley#aziraphel#just tumblr things#masochistic fandom#we could have been us#tell me you said no#angel#demon#unforgivable#wall slam#6000 years of pining#queer#lgbtqia#accurately summarised good omens#reblog at your peril to ruin someone else's life#deadbeat parent#absentee parent#aka god#lot of gay eye contact#ineffable husbands#god's plan doesnt exist??
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angsty fight between miguel and wife!reader
and then they make up yayayayay
Give Me Reasons We Should Be Complete
✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader
✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ Miguel has been pushing you away for some time now. After a talk with a friend, you and Miguel try to sort things out.
✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Inspired by “DANCING IN THE DARK” by Joji. Writing this made me think back on past crushes/lovers. But thank you for your request! I am also holding back on writing smut because it keeps getting labeled and it takes me longer to write.
✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 1.4k
✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Female reader, angst-to-fluff, swearing, Miguel is kinda a dick head, mentions of sleep deprivation…
Want more Miguel content? Check out my MASTERLIST!
You stood in his cold and dark office. The best source of light was his laptop but his huge frame blocked most of the light. You managed around the crumbled paper and thrown desk objects with a plate in hand.
“Miguel?” You peer over his shoulder, “I made you dinner.”
He nods.
“You know you haven’t eaten since yesterday.”
He nods again.
“And you know that you’ve been here for a long time. I think it’s best for you to-”
“Take a break?” Miguel interrupts you, “I don’t have time for that.”
“Miguel, I’m sure whatever it is, it can wait a few minutes. All I’m asking is for you to eat something.” You try to set the plate down.
“I thought I made it clear that I do not want to be bothered. You’re distracting me. Leave.”
He didn’t mean it like that… He didn’t mean it like that. He didn’t mean it like that. He didn’t mean it like that…
“But Mig-”
“I said go.” He growls, his eyes turning its blood red from anger, “You’re becoming a nuisance.”
He didn’t mean it like that.
“Okay.” You tried not to let the crack in your voice show. You didn’t even bother to leave the plate behind because you knew it was going to be wasted.
“And don’t bother me again.” You heard him say as you left his office.
You took deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down before you burst into tears. But your hands shook, nearly dropping the plate.
You choked down your sobs and let your tears fall, the plate was left in the fridge, and you pushed yourself to your bedroom. It was basically yours now since Miguel was sleeping in his office.
The sheets no longer lingered on his cologne and any sign of his presence was gone, other than his clothing and a few photos. The room has become a mess of discarded clothing, old plates and cups, and candy wrappers.
How long has it been since Miguel showed affection? Or even looked at you?
This was normal behavior for Miguel, right? You should know, you’re married to him. You’re his wife. But he experienced loss, unlike you. You didn’t want to judge him for how he deals with his emotions, he’s emotionally distant. You knew that from the start.
And because of this, you felt like he deserved more than what you could give him. It’s what kept you going through the many times Miguel tore your heart, how it squeezed in pain at his actions and words. How you look the other way and ignore his hurtful words.
You couldn’t sleep. You left the still cold bed and dressed in something warm and headed up to the roof.
You sat on the edge, looking at Nueva York. How beautiful it looked during the night, which is one of the reasons why you liked sitting up here.
“Sitting all by yourself?” You tense up only to relax when you know that voice, “At this time? All alone?” Peter B. lands next to you, his daughter in his arms.
“I would ask my husband to join me but he’s too busy.” You respond truthfully.
“Again? He’s been at this all week.” He sits next to you.
“Yeah.” You huff.
“And… how are you holding up?”
“I’m fine.”
“Really? Because it doesn’t look like it.” He offers Mayday who reaches out to you.
You take her and set her down on your lap, “I just don’t know what to do, everything I do seems to bother Miguel. Checking up on him, bringing him food. It feels like he’s doing this on purpose.”
“Miguel’s always been difficult and from the time I spent with him… He’s different, not like the rest of us. He’s accepted his fate as Spider-Man and believes he’s destined for bad things 24/7. But good things do come along, like you. I think… I think he’s trying to come to terms that he can get it because he deserves it.”
Mayday coos, pulling at your hair, “And I think Miguel is scared. He puts on his tough act because he has to, yet he’s afraid to admit he’s scared. Normally, people would’ve given up on him. Why haven’t you?
“Till death do us part. I don’t want to lose him. I don’t give up on him because when you love someone, you love them every single day as who they are.”
“Talk about romantic.”
“Oh please.” You look down at Mayday, “Plus I think-”
“There you are.” You jump and this time, you remain tense, “I was looking for you.”
“Now you’re looking for me?” You respond, refusing to turn your head.
“It’s late, (Y/n). It’s dangerous.”
“I’m here, she’s alright.” Mayday jumps into her father’s arms.
“I’ve already had enough of you. Please, (Y/n).”
“It’s fine.” You tell him, following Miguel inside.
You head to the bedroom, “Where are you going?”
“Bed.”
“(Y/n)-”
“I’m tired and I do not want to be bothered. That includes you too, Miguel.”
“Excuse me?” He follows you into the bedroom.
“You heard me.”
“Please, (Y/n), talk to me.” Miguel begs.
“I’m sorry, did you just say talk? Like I have been trying to do for the past week?”
“(Y/n)-”
“You know what? No, no. You do not get to try to get me to talk after all of this. I have been trying, I have been all in. All I asked of you was to look after yourself.”
“I know.”
“You know? You KNOW?” You scoff rather loudly, “Did you know that Lyla has even talked to me about your behavior? I’m worried about you Miguel. All the damn time, even more when I see you not eating and staying up all night. All I ask is one minute, one bite of the damn food.”
“I’m… I’m so sorry.”
“Is sorry all you have to say? Not even a half assed excuse?” You see Miguel trying to form a sentence but nothing leaves his left and his head hangs low, “I need to be alone.”
You walk past him but he grabs your arm, “Please don’t leave.” He says, “Please don’t walk out that door.”
“I’m sleeping on the couch, you could have the bed.” You look up at him.
“I love you, (Y/n). I know I don’t say it as much but I fucking love you. He’s right, you know. I am scared. Scared of everything. Because at first, I didn’t think I could have that, have you. You let me hurt you and that is unforgivable.”
He’s crying. Looking right at you, letting himself be bare right in front of you. His grip on your arm loosens and his hands come up to your face, cupping your cheeks. You could hear his staggered breathing, trying to keep himself composed.
“But I wasn’t lying when I said I love you, I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted a family, and I wasn’t lying when I said that you make me believe in love.”
“I’m always here for you, Miguel. You don’t have to go through things alone, but when you want to, I’m here.” You take one of his hands into yours, pulling it away from your face but keeping a tight hold on it.
“It’s not that easy. I hurt you, I understand why you don’t want to.”
“I love you, Miguel. We’ll work on this. I promise you.” After a moment, Miguel practically tackles you, nearly falling to the ground. The hug is tight and warm, and you could feel your shirt become wet with Miguel’s tears.
“You’re okay, right?” His voice cracks as he speaks through his sobs, “Please tell me you’re okay.”
“I promise you, I am okay.” You whisper.
“I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”
“You can start by getting some rest. But you’ve got a lot of apologies O’Hara.”
You don’t know how long you and Miguel stayed like this, nor did you care. All you cared about was Miguel and he felt complete at last.
© 2023 Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform with permission.
#x reader#x female reader#fluff#angst#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o'hara#miguel o’hara#spider man x reader#spiderman 2099 x reader#spiderman x you#spiderman 2099#spiderman x y/n#spider man across the spider verse#spider man 2099#spiderverse#spider man x y/n#spider man x you#spiderman x reader
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for you
masterlist ko-fi ao3
Summary: Mattheo gets into another fight with a new guy and when Professor McGonnagal surprisingly do not punishes your boyfriend for it, you discover what she really thinks about your relationships.
Word count: 2.6k
Warnings: established relationships, protective boyfriend Matty, fights, insults and creepy guys, language, mentions of blood, hints of sex at the end.
Author's note: idk, the summary kinda sucks, but I couldn't think of anything better. basically it's just me being McGonnagal's fan and a simp for Mattheo 😘
Mattheo was sitting with his friends on one of the benches outside the castle. He was partly listening to whatever Blaise was saying about the next Quidditch game, more thinking about you and about the fact that he almost didn’t see you during the day.
He was completely lost in his thoughts until he heard your name slip out of the new guy’s, Eddie's, mouth. He and another Ravenclaw student were sitting not far away, and Mattheo’s attention was immediately drawn to their conversation.
“Yeah, that girl Y/N, right? I tried to talk to her during the lecture but she acted like a total bitch.” The guy laughed, elbowing his housemate as if he said something funny. Mattheo’s fist tightened, and he tried to hear more to figure out whether they were talking about you or not.
“Wait, dude.” The other guy chuckled, almost in shock. “You mean that Y/N? Riddle’s girl? You tried to hit on her? Nah, you better drop that shit. It’s like serious between them and all, no one usually bothers her because Riddle goes crazy about it.”
“Don’t care, man. I’ll find a way to get to her. I know she’s gonna be a total freak in bed, I will find a way to fuck her.“
Mattheo just snapped, jumping out of his place in a matter of seconds. Before one of his friends or even Eddie realized what was going on, Mattheo had already dragged him to the floor, punching his face.
“Wanna repeat what the fuck you just said about her?” He hissed at the guy, making another hit into the jaw.
“I said that she looked fuckable.”
It turned into a total mess, with them fighting on the ground and other students staring like it was some kind of show. The crowd got bigger, but Mattheo did not care about it at all; he was too busy with the way his knuckles met that ugly face.
Only a few minutes later, Blaise, Theo, and Draco dragged Mattheo away, while a few Ravenclaw students restrained Eddie.
Mattheo was almost uncontrollable, puffing and trying to escape from the firm hands that were holding him in place.
You heard that your boyfriend got into another fight, but as Luna said, it was something bigger and that he was even more violent today.
You brushed through the crowd, immediately standing before Mattheo’s eyes to catch his attention. You placed both of your hands on his chest and quickly nodded to his friends to let him go. As soon as he became free, he tried to push forward, almost radiating anger. The fact that Eddie was proudly smiling behind your back did not help the situation.
“No. Mattheo, stop it. What’s going on?” You felt the way he was breathing, as if he had run a few miles, and it was mostly anger. His face had a few drops of blood; the brow and lip were cut, and you knew that you would have to clean them up later, but now you only wanted him to calm down and speak to you properly.
“Hey, baby. Remember me?” The voice behind your back made you turn your head around, only now seeing the guy your boyfriend was fighting with. It was a new student from another school who was annoying you during your class and almost got you two in detention. You wanted to slap him so badly for the way he was talking to you, but you knew that the best way to deal with such people was to ignore them. They were always thriving on any type of attention. He looked much worse than Mattheo. Already blossoming bruises under his eye, on the jaw, and blood running out of his nose, and when he gave you that nasty smile, you saw his red teeth too. "C'mon, that’s why you were ignoring me, huh? Voldemort’s son? You could find someone better to fuck.”
“I’m gonna fucking kill him.” You felt how Mattheo moved forward again, but you slightly pushed him back. You lifted one of them to his cheek, caressing it in slow circles.
“No, you’re not. He's not worth it, Matty. Hey, look at me, please.” You put a slight pressure on his face to distract him and make him set his eyes on you. You had seen him during the fights before, but this time it was different. The way Mattheo’s eyes were completely dark, slightly narrowed, and full of rage, his face expression was so cold and nothing like you got used to. For a moment, you understood why sometimes even his friends preferred not to step in.
Eddie pissed you off during the previous lesson, where he decided to sit with you, chat, and flirt. You tried to pay as little attention to him as possible, completely uninterested in the jerk with no manners and a big ego. He got to school just a few days ago but you already hated him with your whole heart.
Though you couldn’t let your boyfriend start the fight again. Eddie was clearly provoking him with that weirdly satisfied grin on his face and rude words, probably so later he could say that the Dark Lord’s son was trying to kill him.
Mattheo's eyes were ruining between your face and Eddie behind your back, as if he were trying to make a decision. Your fingers didn’t stop moving in slow motion on his jaw and you thought that you felt some tension leaving his body.
“I hate the way he was talking about you.” He said it roughly, trying to control his body and emotions. Yes, Mattheo’s eyes were full of anger, but there was something deeper. He was hurt.
“I know, Matty, I know.” You stepped a bit closer to distract your overprotective boyfriend. At that moment, you almost forgot that you were in front of everyone and all the students are going to gossip about your interaction for the next week. “He’s provoking you. He wants to make you the bad guy. Don’t let him do that, please. We should just leave, okay?” You almost whispered, not breaking eye contact.
“Yeah, Matty, listen to your little girlfriend if you don’t want to—”
“Mr. Carmichael!” The loud, stern voice of Professor McGonnagal interrupted whatever he wanted to say and everyone went quiet for a few seconds. “You are not allowed to speak in this tone inside our school. Mr. Carmichael, Mr. Riddle and Ms. Y/L/N, follow me to my office, and everyone else must go back to their classes.”
“But Professor, Y/N didn't do anything wrong!” Mattheo protested, on instinct, placing his hand on your back and stepping closer.
“I said all three of you should go to my office, Mr. Riddle. Now.” Without another word, she left. Mattheo cursed near you, blaming himself for getting you into trouble, but you gave him a reassuring smile and, interlacing your hands, led him to McGonnagal’s office.
As soon as you walked in, Mattheo stood, separating you and Eddie so he wouldn’t be able to talk or even look at you.
“Are any of you willing to tell me what exactly happened there?” McConnagal sat in her chair, observing all of you. You stayed in front of her in silence.
“I punched him because he was saying inappropriate things about Y/N, Professor.” Mattheo briefly looked at you and you slightly squeezed his hand in yours in return. You saw how McGonnagal looked at your hands but you did not pull away, willing to show your boyfriend that you weren’t mad or blaming him.
“Is that so?” She looked at you.
“I wasn’t there when the fight started, but Eddie was bothering me earlier during the lessons. He made a few comments about me, even though I asked him to leave me alone, so I assume that it might’ve been the reason for Mattheo to do it.”
“Liar.”
“Mr. Carmichael, you are not in the position to talk back right now. That is quite impressive that you were able to get into the fight without even being here for weak. You are getting a detention, plus you’ll help Professor Snape after tomorrow's lesson. He’ll be happy to deal with you, I’m sure. Also, 20 points from Ravenclaw.” McGonnagal ignored his dramatic groan, now looking at Mattheo. Judging by the tension in his body, he was ready for the worst. “What about you, Mr. Riddle…” She briefly looked at you, and you didn’t really understand what it meant. “This time, I’m only giving you a warning: in Hogwarts, we do not support any kind of violence. You may be free.”
“That’s unfair! I’m covered in blood because of him. Are you really not going to punish the Dark Lord’s son? He could’ve killed me!”
“One more word and I’m taking away more points. You both are free, but you, Ms. Y/L/N, please stay for a few minutes.”
“But she— Professor, please don’t do this.” Mattheo stepped closer to her desk and you thought that he sounded as if he had suddenly panicked. It was strange.
“Hey, Mattheo, don’t worry about me. I promise, it’s okay.” You pulled him back, curiously looking at his weird behaviour. “Just wait for me outside, please. It won’t be long.” He stared at you for a moment, but then kissed you on the cheek and went out of the room.
“It’s truly magical to see the kind of love you two share, my dear.” McGonnagal softly laughed and you felt the heat on your cheeks. “Come sit here, please.” McGonnagal pointed to the chair in front of her desk.
“What did you want to talk about, professor?”
“Well, I know that this is not my place to interfere, but I wanted to say that you and Mr. Riddle share something really rare and special. And while I do not support his physical way of dealing with problems, I know that he deeply cares about you, darling, and this is how he expresses it.” It was weird to hear such words from someone else. You always respected Professor McGonnagal and the fact that she said that made your heart fill with even more love.
“Was it the reason why you didn’t punish him for the fight?” She nodded.
“Mattheo is a really smart boy with a kind heart and a good chance to have a really successful and wonderful life. The only thing that may ruin it is his family; I'm sure you understand that.” McGonnagal looked at you with a soft smile on her lips. “I see the way you affect him. How he became less distant during the lessons, started smiling more, and that you two are always connected no matter what. Everyone noticed it, even us professors. You may be the only bright thing in his life, my dear; that’s why I want you to ask to be there and not let him slip into the darkness. I just know that such love is so pure and strong and I hope it’ll live as long as the world exists.”
“Um– thank you, professor. I don’t even have enough words to express myself, but I appreciate your support. I’ll do everything in my power to save it.” You suddenly felt extremely emotional after this talk, and the only thing that you wanted to do right now was to be in your boyfriend’s arms.
“Now go. He's probably losing his mind because of you being there for so long.
Mattheo did wait for you near McGonnagal’s office and when you walked out of there with slightly glossy eyes and a soft smile, his facial expression changed into something sad and cold, which you did not quite understand. As usual, after his fights, you went into his dorm, but the walk there was weirdly quiet.
When you walked into his dorm and then to the bathroom, where you usually cleaned his wounds, he just followed you, hopping onto the counter near the sink and waiting while you prepared the first aid kit.
“Are you okay?” You stepped in between his legs, holding his face with your left hand and the wet towel in the other. You wiped the dried blood and then applied salve. “You’re acting kind of weird.”
He stayed silent for a few seconds, as if he were considering his words. “Are you going to break up with me? If so, then just say it right away and don’t torture me. I fucking hate it.” His eyes were locked on your necklace with the letter R, while your hand froze in the air in shock.
“Wh– Matty, what are you talking about?!” He finally looked up, meeting with your eyes, and you understood that he was trying to be casual and careless about it, but in fact he looked hurt.
“Isn’t it why McGonnagal asked you to stay? To say that I’m bad for you or something.”
“This is why you didn’t want to leave me there? I saw the way you looked at me… Oh, baby, no, I’m not going to break up with you.” You gently cupped his cheeks; now the tension had partly left Mattheo’s body and he finally put his hands on your waist. “In fact, McGonnagal told me quite the opposite.” Your fingers gently rubbed a bruise on his jaw while he looked at you in disbelief.
“What do you mean?” Mattheo slightly frowned. His hands unconsciously tightened around you, causing you to step even closer to him.
"Well, she said that you are really smart and that you have a lot of opportunities in the future if you’ll make the right decisions. She told me that you need someone like me to be here for you… and that what we have is really pure and magical.” You almost whispered the last part. The silence in the bathroom became almost too heavy, and the way Mattheo was looking made your stomach tighten with a weird feeling.
“I thought she hated me.”
You shook your head. “There’s no reason for her to hate you, Matty. You are not your family. You can live your life how you want to, without any burden or darkness, and I’ll be here for you. Always.” Mattheo’s hand reached for your face, slowly touching your skin. He looked almost mesmerized by you—those pretty brown eyes soft with so much love and feelings for you.
“Merlin, I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” He drew you closer, your foreheads touching in an intimate gesture. “I love you so fucking much. You’re my everything, Y/N. I know that it might be hard dealing with me, but I’m trying. For you. And I’m sorry for today. I just cannot let anyone disrespect or hurt you, my love.”
“That’s okay. I’m not mad. Just don’t want you to get hurt too. I love you, Matty. No matter what.” You smiled, closing your eyes, and finally properly kissed him. It was slow and delicate and it felt as if that moment was so significant for your relationship. You were always sure of your’s and Mattheo’s love, but right now it has become serious on another lever. And both of you could not be more happy.
Mattheo kissed you passionately, pulling you in close and sliding his tongue across your bottom lip. You moaned into his mouth, burying your hands into the messy curls and scratching the scalp. “I hate to say it, but you actually look kind of hot when you’re fighting…”
“Fuck, baby. Let’s stay here for the rest of the day and skip the classes. I want you so fucking bad.” He groaned, lowering his mouth to your neck.
“Are you trying to seduce me, Mattheo Riddle?” You pushed him away, slightly pulling his hair to enjoy those glossy dark eyes and swollen lips.
“What if I say yes?” Mattheo’s hand slipped under your skirt, teasingly stroking your thigh.
“Then I'll let you do it.”
#mattheo riddle fanfic#mattheo x you#mattheoxreader#mattheo x y/n#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle x you#mattheo riddle x y/n#slytherin boys#harry potter fanfiction
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I <3 NERDS (c.s)
PAIRING: nerd! soobin x afab! reader
SUMMARY: just y/n not expecting nerd! soobin to be a sex god inspired by this very long thought with @gyuthmics
WARNINGS: smut, basically no plot, afab! reader, switch! reader, dom! soobin, big dick! soobin, oral (m rec.), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie (please it's soobin i can't not include it), usage of the words "slut", "baby", "good girl", snowballing, literally like one spank
WORD COUNT: 1.7k
you thought playing around with the cute little nerd in your class would be funny. he was absolutely harmless, you thought, blushing whenever you made eye contact with him and always watching anime in the back of class. all you wanted was to make him your partner for the project and watch him get flustered at every moment. so now you're left wondering: is this really happening? are you really getting the best dick of your life from some guy who has openly said his favorite anime is bunny girl senpai? how did he manage to have you crying and screaming his name?
you remember how his cheeks and ears reddened when you invited him over to your place to "work on the project," when you just wanted to see how long it'd take before he'd beg for your pussy.
oh, how you've missed having someone to play with. you wore a low-cut tank and shorts, leaving little to the imagination. gently patting the spot on your bed, inviting him to sit beside you. relishing the way he stutters each time he looks to talk to you. constantly looking up at him with doe eyes, brushing your shoulder against his, and pushing your breasts into his arms. how badly you're just waiting for him to snap. look at you through those overgrown bangs and grovel for you to give him a sweet release.
he did break, just not in the way you were hoping.
it was a swift motion, with soobin taking you by the wrists and pinning you down. "well, someone is acting like a little slut today." never would you have thought this absolute nerd would have you at such a loss for words. those words make you have to take a pause and leave your mouth slightly agape. "what's wrong? cat got your tongue?" he says this, cocking his head to the side and chuckling.
you're completely lost as to who the man in front of you is; this isn't the nerd you were toying with all day. this is some sort of demon you decided to summon. "c'mon, baby, use your words. i know you want this; you've been messing with me all day. don't back out now." he says, staring into your eyes, and all you can do is let out a broken please. "that's what i like to hear," he says right before planting a kiss on your lips.
you're needy for him, and soobin can't help but chuckle. the way you try to grind down on his knee between your legs, he thinks it's cute how you're slowly becoming putty in his hands. he wants to—no, he needs to ruin you. he's having to hold himself back, and you can tell. for now, he's content with just the taste of you. moving his lips from yours to your neck, you can't help but let out a moan and squirm more. "you're absolutely insatiable; tell me what you want." you're not sure how, but he's already managed to make your head dizzy. "i need you—i need you inside me, please, soobin." you can feel him smile into your neck as you plead. "of course, baby, but i need something from you first." he says letting your wrists free and using his other hand to unbutton his jeans. "get on your knees and suck my cock like the slut you are."
you feel like a woman possessed by how quickly you get on your knees for him. staring up at him in anticipation and hoping he won't notice as you rub your thighs together. when he pulls his pants down, it almost hits you in the face, and you can't help but stare. he's huge. "soobin, you're going to break me." he nearly throws his head back and laughs, "i thought sluts like you were supposed to like big cocks. c'mon, don't be shy now. suck." his order sends a jolt of electricity down to your core.
opening your mouth, you try to take as much of him as possible, and what you can't, you wrap your hands around. bobbing your head up and down his cock, your eyes never leave him. the way his breathing becomes gradually more labored as he groans. his eyes are hungry as he looks at you. "good girl, i knew you could take me," he tells you, and you can feel your walls clench around nothing, and you can't help but moan around him. it's enough to make him curse and grab the back of your head. you can feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as he pushes your head down. feeling his head hit the back of your throat and his cock twitch. you barely have a second before you feel hot cum spill down your throat.
soobin pulls you off his cock and places a hand under your chin. forcing you to stare up at him through those thick-rimmed glasses and overgrown fringe. he pulls you up to him and forces his lips on yours. swapping his cum between you before you finally decide to swallow it. "you're nasty," he says before giving you a light spank, making you let out a yelp. he grabs you by the hand and guides you back to the bed.
his eyes are blown with lust, and suddenly your clothes feel too hot for your skin. you're telling him to pull off your shorts as you tear your top off, and you're left in only your underwear. soobin is quick to start marking and playing with your breasts, telling you how perfect they are. feeling his right hand on your clothed core, you can't help but grind against it. he notices the way you grind on his hand and moves your panties to the side. watching how drenched you are, he decides to dip two of his long fingers inside you, and it has you reeling.
feeling his fingers inside your gummy walls is enough to have you screaming for him. he reaches places your pathetic fingers could never reach. he's so mean and fast with them too; the noises made by them are so lewd, you'd be embarrassed if you weren't enjoying it so much. you think you can't get enough of his fingers until he uses his thumb to circle your clit. the stimulation is so great that he has you chanting his name. his name is dripping like honey from your lips as you try your hardest not to cum. soobin knows you're close; how couldn't he? with your walls fluttering against his fingers and your thighs trembling. "it's okay, baby, you can let go for me," and it's almost as though that was the final piece of a puzzle. you're suddenly seeing stars, and your walls are convulsing around him as you cum.
"is that all you can take, or do you want more?" he asks you as if he doesn't already know your answer. without a second thought, you're screaming once more for him, "please, soobin, i need you inside of me—going insane—need your big cock inside me." you're so needy and desperate for him, it's borderline pathetic. "okay, let me just grab a condom," he says, going to get up, but you grab his arm, pulling him back in to stop him. "no, i need you raw." such a simple sentence, but it's enough to make his cock twitch. "you really are insatiable," and his lips dive back into yours.
as you kiss, you can feel him lining himself up with you, his large cockhead teasing your opening. moaning into the kiss and telling him to put it in already, only making him smile against your lips. when he slips into you, you swear you see heaven. the stretch like nothing you've ever felt before; he's so big, and he's already hitting you so deep. when he bottoms out, you're already grinding against him, begging him to move. soobin is more than happy to oblige, digging his fingers into your hips and slowly pulling out of you, only to ram back in.
you think he'd be rough with just that one thrust, but he continues to be hard and fast. as he thrusts his cock inside of you, you can't help but stare. he makes your head fuzzy, and all you can do is lay there and moan. feeling him lay his hand over your stomach and press down has you clenching around him, making him twitch deep inside you. "god, you're so tight, and you take me so well, like you were made for me," he says. all you can do is moan at his praises, making you teeter closer to the edge.
his groans sound like heaven, his glasses are foggy, and his fringe slightly hangs over them. you don't think you've ever seen anyone look hotter. you don't realize how long you've been staring until he says something like, "see something you like?" and in that moment, you realize you're drunk on him, and you don't ever want to get sober. he chuckles and gives you a smirk right before playing with your clit again. "i can feel the way you're clenching down on me; I know you're close." he's acting almost as if he isn't close, too. "please, soobin, i need to cum—need you to fill me up too, please, soobin." you punctuate your words by wrapping your legs around his waist.
his thrusts become sloppier, and his head falls into the crook of your neck. feeling his hot breath as he curses. "cum for me, y/n" it's not a request but an order. your legs tighten around him as you cum, locking him in as you let out loud moans while your body is wracked with pleasure. you barely get a second to recover before soobin's hot cum floods your insides. there's so much, and you don't think you've ever felt fuller than you do in this moment. after he slips out, you can feel his cum starting to dribble out of your hole.
your head is fuzzy, and you're barely coherent when soobin tells you he's going to grab something to clean you up. however, even with the burn in your legs, gasping for air, and cum spilling from your hole. you can't help but think there's no way this absolute sex god of a man is a damn nerd.
but god, you love nerds.
perma tag list: @hoonslutt @moonlighthoon @love4heejayke @jouliejihan @majestyjun @yizhoutv
#txt smut#txt hard hours#txt hard thoughts#choi soobin smut#soobin smut#soobin hard hours#soobin hard thoughts#txt imagines#txt x reader#txt drabbles#txt reactions#soobin imagines#choi soobin x reader#soobin x reader
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but daddy i love him! // theodore nott x fem granger reader
playlist : but daddy i love him - taylor swift
summary : being hermiones slightly younger , less intelligant and more reblellious sister, it is your duty to have a boyfriend no one approves of to match.
y/n used , gryffindor granger reader , swearing
masterlist PART 2!
"merlin hes so hot" you whined with you head in your hand , staring across the hall at theodore nott.
hermione shuddered in disgust , "yeah and hes a terrible person."
"mione hes really not , just because hes slytherin doesnt mean hes some kind of horrific monster," you rolled your eyes , finally looking away from theodore and looking at hermione across from you.
"dont mix your delusion with reality y/n. him and his friends have bullied us since first year," hermione snapped back.
"whos us? ive never been teased by him before but stay safe i guess," you argued , getting more annoyed by the second.
"you cant be with him y/n , not only does he not do relationships , clearly , hes not good for you!"
"oh but daddy i love him!" you said in a mocking childish tone.
"did you just call hermione daddy?" ron cringed inbetween his quick eating.
"its a little mermaid reference ronald." you said sternly , judging the boys messy consumption of the food on his full plate.
"whats a little mermaid reference?" he mocked.
you, hermione and harry all looked at him with pure shock , forgetting ron wasnt really accustomed to muggle films , "please educate your man mione."
she gasped in pure horror as ron pretened to gag , they both argued over eachother throwing loud defenses and digs at eachother.
"look! i would actually rather die than listen to one more second of all this bitching and moaning!!" you shouted over them , silencing their arguing as harry nodded along with your statement.
"y/n i dont mean to stir the pot but i dont really think nott is a great partner either," ron said with disgust.
"thanks for that ron! wanna add your two cents harry? seems like everyone cares who i have silly crushes on nowadays!" you fumed , turning to the twins who sat on the table besides you , "good morning george , fred, would you like to give your opinion on theodore nott?"
"hate him," fred stated plainly.
"i always target him in quidditch," george quickly followed with a shrug as you let out a defeated groan.
you turned back to the trio , crossing your arms in anger , "im going to go see ginny , see what she thinks of all this , she always supports me unlike you little goblins!"
"yeah cause ginny has a crush on basically every guy," ron scoffed.
"atleast ginny can admit when she has feeling for someone and doesnt pine on her best friend for years! atleast she isnt in denail!" you said smugly as hermione and ron squirmed in discomfort , blushing.
you abruptly stood up from the table , beginning to stomp away when harry shouted after you , "have a great day mrs nott!"
you turned to look at him , flipping him off before shouting back , "aw you too mr weasley!".
harry blushed as ron looked between the two of you , "shes insane , calling you weasley , what weasley could you possibly marry!"
ron scoffed and continued eating his food as harry scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and exchanged a look with hermione.
---
you now found yourself storming the corridors , looking for ginny when someone fell into step besides you , their deep voice making you shudder.
"hello mrs nott."
you stopped in you tracks and looked besides you in horror , theodore smirked down at you.
"erm hi," you mumbled quietly , face deep red in embarrassment. how could you forget the whole time that theodore had been sat with his friends on the table across from you?!
"dont go all shy on me now , i liked how you defended me." he smirked.
"i was really just joking dont get excited ," you teased , finally shaking your shyness.
"didnt sound like a joke to me? you got really worked up granger," he still held his smug expression , eyes peircing yours even when you didnt look back.
"look nott , i just like picking fights with them its funny to tease them." you shrugged continuing your walk as theodore followed still looking at you the whole time.
"go out with me," he said sternly as you paused again.
"are you being serious?" you said trying to seem not as interested as you truly were.
he grabbed your hand and pulled you to the empty classroom besides you , pushing you against the door to shut it.
he put one hand beside your head on the door and the other playing with your hair and grazing your cheekbone , "dead serious."
you looked at him , finally silent for the first time in your life , your silence allowing him to continue , "you can say you dont like me all you want. that its jokes , that its just to get a reaction. but i think we both know its more than that."
"im not gonna be one of your girls nott , im not like that. sure i have a different type to my sister but that doesnt mean i go for fucking man whores who just wanna get me in their bed."
"ouch , your words hurt me, bella. ive never touched a single girl asides from you. ive waited for you." he said softly.
"basically every person in this school says otherwise nott."
his hand that was resting on the door cleched into a first tightly , "stop calling me nott. its theo to you."
"why do you care?" you asked as his frustration grew.
he stared at you now with cold eyes , danger in them like he was staring at his prey. you simply looked back , folding you arms and watching as his eyes flicked down your face.
"dont play hard to get. you practically announced your love for me a second ago y/n." he mumbled.
"sure. ill go out with you, charity work." you joked as he finally dropped his anger and laughed.
"i like it by the way," he said looking up with a smirk as you stared back with confusion , " 'mrs nott,' it suits you."
"hm i dont know. ive always been kinda progressive , mr granger," you smirked before pushing him away with one hand and walking out of the classroom, leaving him to stare at your figure.
the second you found ginny you practically screamed in her face with excitement , "ginnny you will not BELIEVE IT!!"
PART 2
#harry potter x reader#harry potter#theodore nott#theodore nott x reader#theodore nott imagine#theodore nott x y/n#theo nott#theodore#nott#hp#hp fandom#x reader#hp fanfic#slytherin#slytherin x reader#hermione granger#ron weasley#golden trio#grenger#draco malfoy x reader#mattheo x reader#mattheo riddle x reader#lorenzo berkshire x reader#taylor swift#but daddy i love him#the tortured poets department#the stars are brighter tonight masterlist
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