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binniebakery · 2 months

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Your Biggest Fan!

Rockstar!Yeonjun x Fem!Reader, Strangers to ?? (fwb? teehee) Slightly Suggestive! ♡ Summary: Your best friend forces you to attend a local rock group’s concert. You weren’t expecting much until said group’s lead guitarist catches your eye with a wink and a smile, now he’s all you can think about. Little do you know you’ve caught his attention too. ♡ Warnings: smoking, some drinking, n cursing, the sexual tension go crazy, yeonjun is kinda mean, almost burns reader with a cig, this is not proofread! ♡ A/N: finally! After so long i post this lmaoo tbh i had the biggest writer’s block for this fic (I cringed while every second writing this so I very much hate it but o well!) but as promised this was going to be my next one!! moawajunnies please enjoy!!

“Ah, shit– I spilled my drink!” Your friend groaned and you looked from your phone to see part of her outfit drenched in beer. It’s a good thing she was wearing all black. “You alright?” you ask, joining her in assessing the damage.

“Yeah, just clumsy..” She then excuses herself to search for something to wipe the beverage off, mumbling a ‘just as the concert was about to start’ as she squeezes through the crowd. There was probably a low chance she’d make it back to your spot in the very front.

You turn back to the screen, watching the timer tick down. Three minutes left and the crowd was starting to get more impatient by the second, internally cringing at the way you were getting shoved up against the barricade.

God, this was not your type of event at all, not with the amount of smelly drunk attendees. You were only here because you were dragged.

Time went by surprisingly quick as your subway surfer’s gameplay was cut quickly to an end. Music began to roar across the small outside garage and you felt the bass pump through your veins.

A group of five males walk up on stage, the tallest member, their leader, smiling and waving as he approaches his spot, dimples on display as he held his large keyboard guitar.

The drummer, your best friend's favorite, had blonde hair curled perfectly against his handsome features. Tapping his drumsticks with a grin as the crowd roared his name. “Kai! Kai! Kai!”

The group’s bassist and lead guitarist walk in, jumping and showing off their skills with nimble fingers, causing the crowd to get louder and louder. The lead guitarist’s brown wolf cut bouncing as he smirked and waved, black-haired bassist motioning his hands for the crowd to scream louder.

The perfect combination of charisma and attitude for a rock band.

Lastly, the lead vocalist runs on stage, microphone headset attached to his head as he stops front in center. His eyeliner smeared in just the right way, his soft orange hair a bright contrast to his torn and tattered outfit. Immediately you could tell he was the main attraction as fans roared.

Though you can’t say you could disagree, this man had an aura, and it was becoming more intense the longer you stared at him.

Said male lifts his chin to the crowd, a confident smile as fans swooned. “How are we doin’ tonight!?” The place shook and you felt the air grow thicker with every second. You felt the need to join in, feeling the energy shoot through your veins. At this point thoughts of where your best friend was had completely left your mind.

“Let’s fucking go then! This one’s called ‘Growing Pain’!” He kicks and the notes begin to blare through the speakers.

To say these guys weren’t talented would be the biggest understatement in history. The presence they served was beyond comprehensible and although you had never listened to their music prior, you felt immediately entranced by their stage presence.

Their lead singer especially. He had the attitude of a true rockstar, grabbing his water bottle and splashing the water on himself and the crowd after taking his sip. You were completely lost in the character portrayed in front of you, and you had the perfect view too.

As the concert went on, you came to learn the lead singer’s name was Yeonjun, and this Yeonjun was definitely eye candy.

‘Dreamer’ was one of their slower songs, but the crowd seemed to adore it. The sensual combination of the boy’s voices mixing together and harmonizing to create a sexy and attractive atmosphere and you felt practically high on the sound.

You still couldn’t take your eyes off Yeonjun. The way his body moved and the way he always seemed to linger in your part of the stage didn’t help either.

“Let me break it down for you..” Yeonjun’s gaze lands onto yours and you hold eye contact. You feel your body buzz at the interaction. The singer bites his lip as the leader of the group sings his verse, Yeonjun’s eyes never shifting from your position.

Damn, he was good at his job.

The rest of the concert proceeds like that, you and Yeonjun exchanging stares and at one point he winks at you, mouthing a ‘call me’ as his hand waves. You immediately flush at the boldness. He knew how to really interact with his audience.

The concert ends and you finally meet up with your friend, flusteredly attempting to explain the interactions you received and she groans. “Fuck– lucky! I’m so mad I wasn’t able to get back to the front, but at least we both enjoyed the concert..” She smiles weakly and you pat her back. Suddenly you feel a large hand tap your shoulder.

Why the hell was the band’s lead singer standing behind you?

“Hey.” Yeonjun smiles and he tilts his shades upwards, as if you wouldn’t have recognized him. Were the shades supposed to be some sort of disguise? He was literally still wearing the same outfit as earlier, sweat droplets still falling down the sides of his face and you can’t believe the fact that nobody has noticed him yet.

“Oh! Uh– well I gotta go– see you later y/n!” Your friend coughs and runs off to her car. You watch her leave with a confused look. I mean, you two did come to the concert in your designated cars, but what the hell was that about?

You turn back to Yeonjun embarrassed. “Ah, sorry… how can I help?”

Really? The hottest member of the band is talking to you and you're asking him how you can help like he’s a customer at a grocery store?

Yeonjun chuckles and stares you down, tongue in cheek, and you shiver from the attention.

“I wanted to get a better look at you, pretty face was starin’ at me the whole concert.”

You laugh nervously and place your hands on your hips. You decided that you’d entertain him. “Well, how could I not? Your performance really caught my attention.” You prayed to whatever God was out there that Yeonjun couldn’t sense the way your entire body tensed from his gaze.

“Mine or my band’s?” He smirks and you feel a lump in your throat. You wanted to just pass out then and there.

“Y- yours of course..” You mumble, toying with the hem of your outfit. Since when did a man make you so nervous?

“Is that so..?” He steps closer to you and offers his hand. “You wanna grab a drink or a cig?” He tilts his head and you stare at him with wide eyes. You felt like a deer caught in headlights.

“Uh.. sure…? What about your bandmates though?” You were really trying to remain unfazed by his forwardness.

“They'll be doing their own thing, let's go yeah?” Yeonjun gently grabs your wrist and is pulling you along with him, fully oblivious to the stares you were receiving from the concert’s remaining attendees.

Yeonjun takes you backstage, and you could hear your heartbeat thumping throughout your ears as he opened the door to his changing room.

The room was dimly lit, with a crappy light flickering every few minutes. Yeonjun’s clothes were tossed around, makeup vanity in disarray, and gifts and flowers from fans were neatly placed in the corner on a table. You hold your breath as Yeonjun closes the door behind him, lock clicking

You had no idea what was going on or how you even got in this situation, you had simply just attended this concert for the sake of your friend not wanting to come alone. Now here you were, backstage in the lead singer’s dressing room and you had no idea what he wanted with you.. but the burning feeling inside your stomach begged you to stay and your curiosity grew.

“Make yourself comfy, or just stand there, I won’t rush you.” Yeonjun laughs as he pulls a cigarette out from his pocket. He lights it and holds it out to you.

He places the end towards your mouth and you inhale, Yeonjun licks his lips as he watches the way your mouth wraps around it. “Darling.. you really know how to tease a guy huh?”

You stare at each other as you exhale the smoke and the burning in your throat is nothing compared to the burning heat throughout your body. This man had an effect on you in the same way you were affecting him.

You take this opportunity to stare up at Yeonjuns face, his features even more handsome now that you were this close. You take in the way his damp hair sat perfectly on his face, the smell of sweat and his cologne radiating off of him. The choker he wore called your attention to his neck and the way his sweat had dried mostly but you could still make out where the droplets had sat. You swallow and your eyes find their way back to Yeonjun’s.

Yeonjun notices your tension and smirks. “Like what you see pretty girl?” God why was he so fucking attractive.

“Maybe I do.. Is there an issue with that?” You stare at Yeonjun and the look on your face is enough for him to know what you wanted. You really wanted to regain control of the situation, so you decided to tease him further. “Yeonjun, right?.. You sure you wanna be alone with me in this room right now?”

Yeonjun scoffs at your reply. “Why? You trynna be one of my girls tonight?” Yeonjun quirked an eyebrow at you with a smug look, casually leaning against the doorframe. Your breath hitched.

You bite your lip at the suggestion, what was this man playing at? “And what if I do?”

Oh, you were playing with fire.

“You sure you want this? You know how many girls would kill for your position right now?” Yeonjun queries as he carries himself over to you. It finally dawns on you that you both really were alone in his dressing room and that his body was too close to yours, completely leaving you trapped between him and the wall behind you.

You could feel the way Yeonjun’s body heat begged to intertwine with yours, you felt your muscles weaken under him as he placed an arm on each side of your face on the wall. The room felt smaller and the scent of the cigarette in his mouth lingers around you as his breath alone practically envelops your senses.

Honestly, at this point, it didn’t matter how many girls he’s been with, hell you could care less if he even contacted you after this. You wanted him.

“I know well what I’m getting into.” You confidently stare up into Yeonjun’s intense gaze, feeling the way his eyes are scanning every curve of your body.

“Alright tough girl, can you handle this though?” Yeonjun grabs your wrist and pulls the cigarette from his mouth with the other hand, placing it near your skin just enough so you feel the slight burn.

“Ah– ah! Yeonjun–!” You choke and he cackles at the way you weakly attempt to pull away. You stare up at him, eyes slightly watery but the way your legs feel like jelly from the way he's treating you makes you slightly crave more.

“Relax darlin’, I wouldn’t hurt a single hair on you.” Yeonjun drops the cigarette to the floor and crushes it with his boot, still holding your wrist tightly.

He pulls your wrist over your head and he finally pushes his body up to yours. You inhale into his shoulder and Yeonjun’s beaming from the way you just lean into him. He relished in the way you let him do what he wanted to you.

“Stay for me, will you? Kinda like the way you looked up at me from the crowd with that pretty face.” The biggest grin spreads across Yeonjun’s handsome face and of course, who were you to say no? You were more than willing to let this man break you.

After all, you were now his biggest fan.

#txt scenarios #txt imagines #txt x reader #txt smut #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun smut #yeonjun x y/n #txt x y/n #BakeryTreat♡

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stardustvanfleet · 3 months

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Rediscovery — Josh Kiszka x F!Sapphic!Reader

SMUT. 18+ ONLY! MDNI!!!

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x F!Sapphic!Reader

Word Count: 10k

Summary: Your crush on your best friend, Josh, has been becoming harder and harder to ignore. There’s only one thing holding you back from admitting your feelings— most of your experience has been with other women, and you know that Josh’s history is equal and opposite, having mostly been with other men. But after one of your usual nights out, aided by a few drinks and a joint, things are finally coming to the surface. And you’re about to rediscover everything, together.

Warnings: Friends to lovers smut with switchy!Josh. Oral (m & f receiving), fingering/handjob, unprotected sex, dirty talk. Both the F!reader and Josh are written as explicitly queer in this fic.

A/N: This might be one of the most self-indulgent fics I’ve ever written… and I couldn’t be more excited to finally share it with everyone after spending the last few months working on it. I’ve noticed that even though there’s a huge sapphic community in the Peaceful Army, there aren’t a lot of fics written from the perspective of an explicitly queer woman! I absolutely poured my heart into this one and I have some amazing friends I need to thank for the endless encouragement and inspiration. My best friend, my love, my moonbeam @sinsofstardust — thank you for all the hours of discussion that lead to SO many incredible ideas. I love you ENDLESSLY!!! I also want to give HUGE thanks to my loves, @jakesguitarsolo @losfacedevil @kenobicoffee for being my beta readers and giving me the motivation I needed to finish writing 10,000 words… I love all of you SO much 🤍

FIC BEGINS BELOW THE CUT!

There was just something about Josh Kiszka.

Maybe it was the way he seemed to radiate a kind of warm, exuberant energy; one that was impossible to ignore from the moment he walked into the room. Maybe it was the little gap between his teeth when he grinned that you’d found yourself immediately drawn to, or those wide, sparkling brown eyes. There could have been a hundred reasons, and, in truth, it was more than likely that there were that many— and then some.

Regardless of what had caused it, the fact that you had a rapidly developing crush on your best friend was becoming harder and harder to push into the back of your mind.

You and Josh had met almost a year ago now. One of your favorite bars downtown had karaoke nights on Thursdays, and on a whim, you had come in after a particularly stressful day at work. You weren’t planning on doing anything but sip your drink and listen to strangers perform their favorite songs, but to your surprise, the curly-haired man sitting next to you at the bar had struck up a conversation so easily and naturally you couldn’t help but fall comfortably into chatting with him. The two of you had a lot of things in common, with a similar love of music and an interest in meditation. And when he told you he was going to go up and sing, he offered his arm as an invitation, which you gladly took, leaving you blown away by his voice as he covered Adele better than anyone you’d ever heard. The two of you had spent the entire night talking, and had exchanged numbers with the intention of hanging out some more, and over the next several months, you two had become incredibly close. And yet— there was one important caveat that, beyond his standard affectionate touches, had kept things between you and Josh entirely platonic.

One of the biggest things that you and Josh had bonded over during your numerous deep conversations was the similar way you both seemed to experience your sexualities. Like Josh, you didn’t put a label on yourself, finding that the way you felt love and attraction to be hard to pinpoint under one term, but the majority of the lovers you’d had throughout your life had been other women. Josh’s history was both equal and opposite, with his experience mostly having been with other men. Being queer was something that was extremely important to both of you, and you knew that. And yet, throughout it all, the increasing feelings you held for Josh were growing stronger and stronger. Eating you alive. Burning into your mind and body.

Talking to Josh was always so easy. So why did it feel so impossible to breach this particular topic?

It had been another one of your frequent nights out with Josh. The two of you had gotten into a routine of meeting up at least once a week for drinks and a joint or two, and it quickly became evident to you that spending time with Josh was undoubtedly the highlight of your week. Knowing you’d be able to sit with him, laughing and joking and talking about everything that had stressed you out over the past several days, had become a thought that would get you through even the most difficult times. You tried not to linger too hard on what this could possibly mean for you and your heart, and instead let yourself just try to enjoy the present moment with the ethereal man sitting beside you on the couch.

It was late, very late. Tonight, you’d met up with Josh at a local bar that he had introduced you to a few months earlier, one that was only a few blocks from his apartment. His neighborhood was easy to get to from where you worked, but it was admittedly somewhat out of the way from where you lived. By the time the two of you left the bar, the trains had stopped running, and Josh had insisted that you shouldn’t have to pay a small fortune for an Uber when he had a perfectly good spare room in his apartment.

Josh’s apartment was just as cozy and inviting as he was, and his living room featured a low coffee table surrounded by beanbags and large floor cushions. The couch was pressed back against a cream-white wall decorated with prints and paintings that surely all had a story behind them, framed by the glow of string lights and the numerous plants both lining the walls and hanging from the ceiling. He had immediately offered you one of his t-shirts, and a pair of his own pajama pants that fit you surprisingly well, given that you were both of similar height.

And now, here you were, sitting side-by-side with Josh on his couch as he lit up a joint, with one of his favorite records playing softly on the turntable in the corner. The domesticity of the moment was not lost on you— the clothes you had borrowed still smelled like him, his intoxicating androgynous scent of spicy bergamot and soft jasmine. You both had already had several drinks over the course of the night, and Josh’s cheeks had flushed to a familiar rosy pink that signified his tipsiness. As of right now, all of your energy was going towards not letting your gaze linger on how beautiful he looked. On how hard your heart was beating.

As Josh took a long drag from the joint, his eyes fluttered shut, and you felt your heart skip a beat, unable to stop yourself from watching him. You were still gazing at him when his eyes slowly opened through his long exhale, the cloud of smoke intertwining with the plumes rising from the incense he had burning on the coffee table. He turned to face you as he cleared his throat a little, giving you an affectionate smile and holding out the joint for you to take, which you gladly accepted. Your fingers brushed his as he passed it to you, and you tried to ignore the way the contact made your brain start to buzz.

Now Josh was watching you as you took your hit, his eyes already a little glazed over as the high began to settle in. That was when he spoke, using his favorite pet name for you that you liked far too much to ever admit. “Doin’ alright, mama? Hope I’ve been a good host, though if I haven’t, I’ll be blaming the Fireball.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little as you exhaled your first hit, nodding towards Josh and managing a grin as you said, “Josh, I promise, you’d be a better host blackout drunk than most people would be sober.”

His face lit up at your words, and he let out a laugh of his own as he replied, “I’ll be sure to hold you to that statement if I manage to set the whole damn place on fire,” his eyes lazily following the plumes of smoke you had exhaled before his gaze fell back on you when you giggled, his pupils blown wide in the low light.

“Okay, now that sounds like you,” you teased, moving to pass the joint back to Josh. As the familiar hazy feeling began to settle over your mind and body, you found yourself inching just a bit closer to him as he took it from between your fingertips, bringing it to his lips with a smirk and a twinkle in his eye as you continued, “Well, if it comes to it, I’ll make sure to implement an accidental-house-fire clause in my perfect host assessment…”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” he grinned, the joint dangling between his teeth as he did so, and when his mouth suddenly closed around the end to pull a deep hit, the sight of his plush, puckered lips sucking around the joint was enough to make your head spin. He held the smoke in for a moment, before pulling the joint from his lips with two fingers, letting his jaw fall slack and exhaling the smoke in one large cloud, a sight so effortlessly sexy it made your breath catch in your throat. Josh turned to you, and you thanked your lucky stars that any difficulties you were having finding your breath could be chalked up to the smoke now beginning to accumulate in the room. His head cocked to the side just slightly as he looked over at you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, his eyes having grown heavy-lidded as the weed began to take its effect. “Well, I’ll say tonight’s adventure got us off to an interesting start…”

You began to giggle again, memories of the evening you two had enjoyed so far flashing through your mind. Overall, it had been another fun and relaxed night out, with you and Josh having met at the bar and recounted how the past week had gone in your usual playful fashion, delving into the stress you’d been dealing with at work and his frustrations with his brothers through overdramatic storytelling and a lot of inside jokes.

After you two had been out for an hour or two and were beginning to feel pleasantly tipsy, two people had sat down at the small high-top table beside yours— a guy and a girl that looked to be around your age. They had been speaking loud enough that it quickly became evident that they were on a first date… and it became increasingly clear to you and Josh throughout the night that this couple’s date was not going well. You had spent the next hour or two getting increasingly tipsier and trying to stifle your laughter whenever the man at the other table made another comment about his crypto startup.

“We really got our own personal reality TV show tonight,” you agreed with a laugh, unable to take your eyes off of Josh as he took another drag, his brows furrowing for a moment as he held the smoke in. Beginning to exhale, he started giggling through it, and you felt your heart rate heighten even further.

“Talk about shitty dates,” he said, shaking his head as if to express pity. “And I’ve been on my fair share of dates with mediocre men…”

“That guy doesn’t even get the recognition of being called mediocre,” you said decidedly, taking the joint when Josh offered it to you again, before he leaned back against the couch, stretching his arms out against the back of it as he watched you speak and grab the lighter. “He didn’t even let her get a word in edgewise…”

“Ouch! Tell me how you really feel…” Josh said with feigned betrayal, making you laugh again and move even closer to him so you could smack his arm playfully— the feeling of his firm bicep underneath your hand making your brain grow cloudy for a moment.

“Oh, shut up, Josh… it’s cute when you do it,” you teased, feeling a twinge in your own heart while using words that were so secretly reflective of your own feelings, but this was how your friendship with Josh had always been. Verbally and physically affectionate, especially in these moments—- but platonic. Never escalating. “Besides, you don’t ramble about crypto…”

Josh nodded, grinning and sticking his tongue between his teeth; “Okay, you’ve got me there.” While gazing over at him, you found yourself caught off guard by the way his cheeks suddenly seemed to be reddening even further. Reminding yourself that Josh blushed frequently, and that this could be caused by any number of things, you did your best to shove any distracting thoughts as far back into your mind as you possibly could while lighting up the joint again. It’s nothing. He’s your best friend; that’s all. Your thoughts, however, were interrupted by Josh’s voice, which continued, “Although, I don’t think he’s as bad as the guy I saw that one time who yelled at the waiter…” As Josh recounted how awful this one particular date was, complete with impressions of the terrible guy in question, you were giggling wildly, the high only intensifying the absurdity of the guy’s entitlement in the story.

“And that is exactly why it’s been so long since I’ve dated a man,” you laughed, shaking your head, remembering the nightmarish experience you had a few years ago that had made you opt for a long break on going out with men. “The last date I had with a guy? Absolutely terrible. I swear… he was trying to get in the Guinness Book of World Records for ‘most complaints on a first date’…”

Josh laughed at your sarcasm, watching with amusement as you took your hit. You could feel his eyes on you, even when your own eyelids fluttered shut thanks to the smoke you were holding in. You let out a long, slow exhale, and when you opened your eyes to let your gaze fall on Josh again, you found yourself wondering if he had inched a bit closer while you weren’t watching him— then quickly doubted your own assumption, telling yourself it must be the high only making it seem that way. Once you had taken your hit, you continued, hoping you were maintaining your external composure, “Seriously, you’d think he had a personal best that he was trying to beat. Nothing was sacred. The restaurant, the people around us, my outfit…”

“Your outfit?” Josh asked incredulously, shaking his head in astonishment as you handed him the joint again, which was now over halfway gone. “Well, if he screwed it up with you, I already could’ve told you that he had bad fucking taste, but that really seals the deal…”

You felt heat rising in your cheeks at the compliment, reaching out and squeezing his arm affectionately in thanks without even thinking, making him giggle— the sound of which left you positively reeling. The high which had settled over you made everything feel a bit hazy, a bit dreamy, on top of the fact that you couldn’t take your eyes off of Josh. Everything about him was just as intoxicating as the liquor and the weed you’d shared that night, if not more so, and you could feel your heart hammering in your chest as he took another slow, long hit, while you continued talking to fill the silence that threatened to tug even harder on your heartstrings. “Seriously, though… I can’t believe he was the last man I ever fucking kissed.”

Josh’s head suddenly turned to face yours, the joint smoldering between his fingertips. He raised an eyebrow, and gave you a look that mixed pity with disbelief, along with… some other emotion, one that you couldn’t quite place. “You actually kissed that guy, mama?” There was a touch of irritation in his voice that, if you didn’t know better, you might have placed as jealousy.

You kicked yourself mentally for the thought, while simultaneously, you hadn’t moved your hand from Josh’s arm. For some reason, the pull felt magnetic.

Scoffing a little, you nodded, saying, “I know… not my ideal scenario.” In your tipsy, high state, the words seemed to be spilling from you without any internal consideration, and suddenly, you found yourself blurting out, “I mean… him? Why couldn’t it have been another guy, someone I actually like being around… or literally anybody else?”

As soon as the words fell from your lips, they were hanging in the air. Floating. The breath left your lungs in an instant when you realized what you’d just said, as Josh’s brows furrowed for a moment, those particular words seemingly bouncing around inside his mind. He blinked a couple of times, his lips parting slightly, and it was impossible not to notice the way his gaze seemed to intensify, studying you a little. He cocked his head, the rise and fall of his chest having intensified as you felt your heart rate heighten even further— and that’s when he finally opened his mouth to speak, his brown eyes on you, his pupils blown wide.

“Y/N… do you… do you want it to be… somebody else? The last man you kissed?”

Your mouth fell open, but your thoughts were moving so much quicker than your words could. All you could manage was a soft utterance of “Josh…” as his gaze once again fell to your lips. More openly this time. Lingering. Your head was spinning, your fingertips beginning to grip tighter at his arm. You knew you had to find your words before you lost the wave of courage that was beginning to wash over you, and breathlessly, you let out a soft, “Yeah, I do… I just never thought…”

All coherent thoughts fell apart when Josh’s hand suddenly rested on top of yours, and you trailed off, your breath catching in your throat. Quickly and almost effortlessly, without ever letting his gaze leave yours, he ashed the smoldering joint in the little glass tray on the table with his other hand, and he murmured, “Neither did I…” beginning to lean closer, starting to close the distance between the two of you. Through your rapidly increasing lightheadedness, your lips were already parting in anticipation, your mind racing, your hands trembling. Inches turned to centimeters, and then millimeters.

And when he finally caught your lips with his, it was as if the whole world melted away around you. There was nothing else. Nothing but Josh, his lips taking you in passionately and eagerly, the feeling of his warm, flushed skin against your own…. and, soon enough, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip, as if begging for entry— which you couldn’t help but grant. You could feel his soft facial hair brushing against you as he deepened the kiss, and the feeling was both new and dizzying. All inhibitions you had been holding within you melted entirely away as Josh licked into your mouth, and you found yourself falling into him, your bodies colliding and hands beginning to reach out, touch, grab. Without ever letting his lips leave yours, he was suddenly pulling you by the waist into his lap, and you were letting him, throwing your arms around his neck and fully straddling him, savoring the heat of his body underneath you, the feeling of his firm, solid chest… god, it was all so new, and intoxicating beyond belief.

His kiss was warm, inviting, and all-consuming. A fire had been lit within you, burning incessantly and licking up through your lower stomach as Josh let out a soft sound resembling a moan right into your mouth. It was so pretty, with the slightest hint of a whine, and the thought of hearing more from Josh… sounds increasing in need as he slowly unraveled… immediately made you lightheaded with arousal. An involuntary moan that matched his in its intensity slipped from somewhere deep within you as Josh’s tongue explored your mouth, and the instant tightening of his grip on your waist and arching of his hips right up against you proved beyond any doubt that your sounds were eliciting a similar reaction from the man beneath you. You moaned again, louder this time, and Josh groaned immediately, pulling back just enough to murmur a breathless “You sound… fuckin’ divine, mama,” before hungrily pulling you right back in, your hands sliding up to tangle in his curls, tugging at his roots as he hummed with satisfaction and need, right against your lips.

You were rolling your hips against him now— and with a nearly overwhelming shock of desire, you were suddenly aware of the way Josh was hardening underneath you as he continued to sigh and moan into your mouth. Most of the people you’d been with didn’t have the anatomy that Josh had, and the realization that you were making him hard had you lightheaded. Breathlessly, you started giggling into the kiss, and he pulled back for just a moment to look at you curiously, his cheeks flushed red and his brown eyes wide, sparkling. “What are you giggling at, mama?” he asked playfully, sticking his tongue between his teeth as he watched you rock against him, his pupils dilated with lust.

“It’s just… oh, fuck…” you giggled again, throwing your head back for a moment as you let the feeling of him underneath you just wash over you. “God… I forgot what that felt like, Josh….”

He was licking his bottom lip now, looking just as giddy and flustered as you felt. When Josh’s gaze pulled itself away from your eyes for a moment, he let it drag down your body, right down to where you were grinding down onto him, before right back up to resume looking right at you– as if he were able to see something far deeper in you than what was on the surface. There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“Tell me, mama…” he started, his voice low and breathless, his eyes remaining on you as he began to roll his hips to the rhythm you had established. “...tell me how it feels.”

“Fuck,” you whimpered, his ability to slip so easily back and forth from needy to commanding making your head spin, and the word slipping out made Josh lick his lips, clearly enjoying being able to watch your expression shift as your arousal grew. Focusing on every feeling, you breathed out, “So good, Josh. Feels so fucking good…”

“Paint me a picture, mama…” he sighed, his eyes glazed over with desire, his hands beginning to glide up and down your body, exploring you slowly and passionately, as though trying to commit your every inch to memory by means of touch alone. Everything had escalated so suddenly, in such a frenzy of accidental admissions, and you didn’t even care. You couldn’t even begin to think of a damn thing beyond what was happening in this present moment, and just how fucking badly you needed him. You couldn’t believe how wet he had made you so quickly.

His desire to hear you speak on your pleasure was intoxicating. You were breathing heavily, unable to take your eyes off of him. He looked angelic, his curls framing his face so delicately and beautifully despite the way your fingers had been knotting into his hair moments earlier. Josh was practically glowing in the dim, warm light, his features illuminated in a way that was simply and undeniably breathtaking. There was a look in his eyes that was making your whole body tremble, and the feeling of his cock continuing to harden underneath you was almost overwhelming. You had never felt an ache quite like this one before. It was different, and it was… good. Focusing all of your attention on exactly what you could feel beneath you as you both grinded against each other, the words left your lips in a breathless, rambling moan.

“Feels… so fucking hard… and thick, Josh… oh, God… I’m soaked… I’m burning for you…”

He let out a shaky groan, his plush lips falling open as he watched your eyes flutter shut while still rocking against him— and you let out a soft cry of need when you felt him twitch against your clit through the layers of fabric between you. “Fuck… mama, you’re a poet…” he panted, leaning his head back for a moment as he bucked his hips up against you. “God… It’s been so fucking long…” When the words left his lips, the thought occurred to you that, just like it had admittedly been a long while since you’d been with a man, it had likely been just as much time since Josh had been with a woman— and the realization somehow made your hunger for him grow even greater.

“Too many clothes,” you managed to gasp out, and Josh was nodding, his eyes having darkened even further, allowing himself to pull his hands from your body long enough to sit back and watch as you pulled your top— his own t-shirt —over your head, throwing it onto the floor without a second thought. You had taken your bra off when you changed into his pajamas, and the sight of you topless was enough to make Josh’s breath audibly catch in his throat, his eyes wide and ravenous, taking in every last inch of skin that had been revealed to him.

“Fuck,” Josh breathed out, his cheeks flushed with arousal, “You are so fucking beautiful…” his words making your head spin as he found the hem of his own t-shirt, tugging it over his head and tossing it to the floor alongside yours. You had seen Josh without a shirt on before, but never anything like this, and being so close was damn near overwhelming. Immediately, you were running your hands up his chest, savoring the feeling of his toned, firm skin underneath your own.

“Josh, you’re fucking beautiful,” you sighed, and the look in his eyes was unlike anything you had ever seen— astonished, adoring, voracious. His own hands began to slide up your body, mirroring the way you were exploring his, before moving to cup your breasts. Dizzily, you were left reeling at the size of his hands, his long fingers, the way he touched… giving your tits a gentle squeeze at first, your resulting moan encouraging him to squeeze harder, pressing your cleavage together as a low groan escaped his throat. You bit your lip, looking back at him and watching how his eyes devoured you. “Do you like them…?”

Josh’s gaze immediately flashed to meet yours, and the eye contact felt like a shock going straight down your spine. A sound resembling a growl escaped from the back of his throat, and your mouth fell open involuntarily as he said, “God, I fucking love them…” continuing to grope and squeeze, his cheeks red, his chest heaving. Your hand continued to slide up his chest, your fingertips finally reaching his necklace, and you just couldn’t resist— tugging it towards you, pulling Josh towards you and kissing him as hard as you’d ever dreamed of doing, drunker now on the feeling of him kissing you back than on anything you’d had at the bar. His hands slid around to the small of your back to pull you into him, your tits pressing up against his bare chest for the first time. The contact made you practically light-headed, moaning into his mouth as the kiss grew sloppier, before Josh’s lips began to trail down to your jaw, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses in his wake. Your hands slid up to grab at his hair again as he continued his journey downwards, beginning to kiss and lick at your neck— and you were left gasping and writhing underneath him.

“Oh my God, Josh…” you panted, feeling the way his tongue was now beginning to flick and tease at your pulse point, your fingers tightening in his curls. “Fuck…” Your words elicited a moan from Josh against your neck, and you found yourself bucking your hips against him harder at the sound. He continued kissing lower, down your neck to your collarbones, seeming determined to explore every inch of your skin with his mouth, and his obvious desire was making the heat between your thighs burn ever greater. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him as he reached the top of your breasts, letting his mouth and tongue kiss and caress sloppily downwards, looking up at you through his lashes all the while.

He pulled back only for a moment, licking his lips as he gazed up at you, breathing out a low, heavy, “You have no fucking idea how many times I’ve imagined this…” his words sending shock waves straight to your core that were only amplified when, without warning, Josh leaned in to press a hot, open-mouthed kiss right to your nipple, sucking it right into his mouth. The pleasure was so sudden and so overwhelming that your own mouth fell open wide as you arched into him, crying out and gripping him even tighter. Josh let his tongue trace in circles around the hardened bud, before flickering it over you at a speed that had you gasping and whimpering, making your mind reel with possibilities of what else his tongue could be capable of. Your moans were growing louder and more desperate as he moved to pay the same attention to your other nipple, one of his hands sliding up your body so his fingertips could continue playing with the first.

It was already so much. He was so skilled with both his mouth and his fingers, and your anticipation of what was to come was matched by an insatiable hunger burning deep within your core. “Oh, fuck… Josh… that feels so good,” you moaned breathlessly, your voice already shaky, overwhelmed by the way he was working both nipples at once while continuing to grow harder underneath you. The look in his eyes was dark, mischievous. He was clearly being encouraged by your praise, and he was chuckling against you, both the sound and the vibrations enough to make your body shiver against him. He continued worshiping your tits like this for minute after minute, his sighs and moans against you making your head spin and your arousal pool between your thighs. After a while, the feeling of his hard cock rubbing up against you through your pajama pants was becoming impossible to ignore, and the layers of clothing between your bodies felt far too much. Your next words escaped you in more of a whimper than you had intended, thanks to Josh’s relentless tongue against your left nipple and his fingertips rolling and tweaking the right. “Please, Josh… baby… I’m so wet, I need more…”

The words made Josh’s eyes flutter shut for a second, groaning with need as he pulled back from your nipple with an obscene pop. “Fuck, mama… I’ll give you more… lover… let’s get these off you, yeah?” he asked, his hands reaching the hem of your pajama pants as you nodded voraciously, the new pet name he’d just used sending chills up and down your spine.

Swiftly and almost effortlessly, Josh was pulling you off of his lap to press you up against the back of the couch, kissing you deeply all over again as he repositioned you, before pulling back to look you in the eyes as he moved to untie the pajama pants you had borrowed from him. You lifted your hips to aid him as he hooked his fingers underneath the waistband of both the pants and your panties, his gaze meeting yours as if to check in for one final time that this was what you wanted, and you were nodding before either of you even had the chance to speak. “Please…” you breathed out, and that was all the confirmation he needed, tugging them all the way down your legs and lifting your ankles to pull them off of you. Your head was reeling as you watched him kneel before you through heavy-lidded, lust-clouded eyes. Slowly, as if uncovering something sacred, Josh’s hands landed on your knees, gently pulling them apart, revealing you to him— all of you, for the first time.

His lips parted in astonishment. “Oh my fucking God, mama…” He was devouring your pussy with his eyes, staring at you as though witnessing the divine. “You’re so fucking wet… fuck, you’re a goddess… Aphrodite incarnate.”

You were left breathless at his words, and if that wasn’t enough, in a frenzy, Josh’s mouth attached itself to your inner thigh, kissing eagerly, lapping against your sensitive skin, and beginning to climb higher by the moment. Utterly overwhelmed by the feeling, by his desire, you found yourself growing lightheaded, panting out, “You wanna taste it, Josh?”

Between hungry kisses to the inside of your thighs, he looked up at you with a wild ferocity in his eyes you’d never seen before, and his voice was husky as he breathed out a low, hot, “Not want. Need.”

He had left you speechless, the only sound escaping your lips a desperate whimper of arousal that made Josh groan against your skin as he continued his ascent. Moving higher with every kiss, every lick, every graze of his teeth— you were trembling as Josh grew closer and closer to your burning heat. It had been a long time since any man had made you ache like this, and you couldn’t believe just how badly you needed him, how little you cared about anything beyond the promise of his tongue.

Josh was nearing the apex of your thighs now, only inches away from where you needed him most. The feeling of his lips and his facial hair, watching the way his nose pressed into the soft skin of your upper thigh… keeping your eyes on him felt addictive. He was a work of art, devoting his mouth and body to your pleasure, and you couldn’t look away. That was, until Josh fulfilled his promise— hands gripping your thighs and eyes right on yours as he pushed his head forward, immediately pressing a slow, wet kiss directly to your pussy.

The cry that left your lips was louder and more desperate than any of the moans Josh had already drawn out of you, and your thighs immediately tightened around his head, your hands flying back into his hair as you threw your head back. Josh had flattened his tongue, licking a stripe along the entire length of your slit, before letting his tongue explore your folds, his lips kissing and sucking all the while. You were practically incoherent already, astonished at how he could possibly be so good at this. Expletives were falling from your lips completely outside of your control, your desperate moans of “Oh, God… fuck…!” only serving to encourage Josh further, pressing his face in even deeper and sucking at your clit, his mustache tickling at your most sensitive spots while his hands kept a white-knuckled grip on your thighs.

You were practically seeing stars, tugging at Josh’s hair in unbridled ecstasy as he started flicking his tongue against your clit, at a speed you couldn’t even begin to comprehend. The feeling made you let out a sound so needy and pornographic, you hardly recognized yourself. Pleas began to tumble from your lungs as your thighs started to shake, the pleasure building quicker than you ever could have imagined. “Please, please… oh, God, Josh, don’t stop…”

His fingers dug into your thighs as if to assure you that he was not going to stop, his tongue continuing to flick and lash at your clit from every angle, lapping at your wetness, humming and groaning into your heat. Devouring you as if it was his last meal, Josh looked up at you with his brown eyes wide, sparkling, practically innocent; and the sight had you choking on your own breath, his name escaping your lips in a desperate whine— and the sound of that, perhaps combined with the taste of you, left Josh’s eyes rolling up into his head, eyelashes fluttering wildly, as he worked your cunt with his tongue. The sight, combined with his relentless worship of your pussy, the lapping of his tongue against your clit, sent you right over the edge— all at once, you were moaning louder than ever as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. Your thighs clenched and tightened around Josh’s head as he groaned into your pussy, licking up your release as you gushed onto his tongue. The orgasm was all-consuming, wracking every inch of your body with shudders, and Josh made sure to work you through every second of it, keeping his pace until you began to come down. Only then did he slow his tongue, beginning to press slow, passionate, gentle kisses to your pussy as the last few spasms of pleasure coursed through you. He only pulled back when your grip in his hair loosened, turning to gentle strokes of your fingertips through his curls.

With one final, soft kiss to your heat, Josh came up from between your legs, licking his lips and looking at you almost bashfully, his face flushed and slick with your release. The sweetness in his gaze combined with the depravity of the moment sent yet another shiver down your spine. Chest heaving and eyes glazed over, you let out an incredulous giggle, savoring the softness of his hair under your fingertips, and the way he was looking at you. “Jesus, Josh… you didn’t tell me you were so good at that,” you teased, still somewhat in shock at the fact that all of this was really happening.

“You never asked,” he teased back, sticking his tongue between his teeth, and the sight had butterflies erupting in your stomach all over again. You were struck by an overwhelming need to kiss him, and you again let your hands find his necklace, beginning to tug him back up towards you, and you watched Josh’s eyes widen and lips part as he raised himself to close the distance between the two of you once more. This time, when your lips met and Josh licked into your mouth, you could taste yourself on Josh’s lips and tongue, and that little fact combined with his soft moan into the kiss left your body growing hot all over again.

You kissed sloppily for another minute or two, letting your hands begin to slide up and down Josh’s chest, and the sounds your touches were eliciting from the man positioned between your legs were making your mind grow foggy. In the midst of the kiss, Josh’s hips pressed up against your core, his clothed erection rubbing up against your bare cunt, and the feeling made the both of you gasp. Josh pulled back a little to capture his lower lip between his teeth, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. When he opened them again, you already knew exactly what you wanted. “Josh…?” you asked softly, seductively, and his gaze on you alone had you practically seeing stars. “You made me feel so good… please… let me return the favor…”

As the words left your lips, you were sliding out of your position on the couch, keeping your gaze directly on Josh. “Stand up for me? Please?” you asked, your eyes wide, your teeth grazing your own lower lip. He was mesmerized, looking at you with so much visible desire that you could hardly think straight, but stood up for you, his body practically glowing in the soft, golden light. Through your haze, you were able to sink down onto the floor, finally ending up exactly where you wanted to be. Kneeling in front of him. At eye level with the bulge straining through Josh’s pajama pants. Looking up at him with those same doe eyes, you slid a hand up the inside of his thigh, and Josh let out a soft, melodic groan, his own hand falling to stroke your cheek and run his fingers through your hair. His tender touches only served to encourage you more as your hand stroked further and further upwards, before finally reaching its destination— wrapping around the visible bulge in his pajama pants and giving it a squeeze, arousal flooding your veins at both the feeling of his hard cock in your hand and the moan that escaped Josh at your touch. It had been so long since you’d done this, since you’d been with anyone who had a cock, but… Josh knew that. He’d known that for almost as long as you’d known him at all. And somehow, the fact that it was him you were here with, exploring, rediscovering— truly made any nerves or hesitation you might’ve had disappear without a thought. “Fuck, you’re hard, baby…” you breathed out, looking up at Josh through your lashes, and the use of the affectionate pet name made his grip tighten in your hair.

“It’s all for you,” Josh replied, his voice husky, his breaths coming hard and fast. The sight of his toned chest rising and falling so rapidly in combination with his words was making your head spin as your hands slid higher, hooking around his waistband. He groaned a little, his hips bucking involuntarily at the loss of contact, but his next words were low, seductive. “You wanna see what you do to me, mama?”

A soft moan slipped from you at his question, and you were nodding before you found the words. “Yeah, Josh… I wanna see it…” His teeth sunk into his bottom lip once more as he watched you through lust-blown, darkened eyes, cocking his head, which made his curls fall across his forehead in a way that made you squeeze your thighs together involuntarily. Finally, you couldn’t resist any longer, tugging down Josh’s pajama pants while he kept his gaze on you, hungry and intense. And when you laid eyes on his cock for the first time, the wave of desire that crashed over you was enough to leave you utterly and completely dazed.

“Prettiest cock I’ve ever seen,” you whispered, almost reverent, and Josh let out a giggle so breathless and aroused that you felt yourself grow practically lightheaded, his cheeks somehow flushing even redder at the compliment. The statement was the inarguable truth; you had slept with comparatively few men as opposed to women, and not one of them had a cock that left your mouth watering the way Josh’s already had— upon sight alone. He was deliciously thick, the head of his cock an identical rosy pink to his plush lips and slick with precum, making his own desire more than evident. You were left awestruck, staring at all of him for a moment, wondering how it was possible that tonight’s events had truly led to the situation you were currently in.

He was gazing at you through heavy-lidded eyes as you lifted your hand, reaching out and letting your fingertip trace all the way up the one pretty vein that ran up the underside of Josh’s cock. At your feather-light touch alone, Josh shuddered, his fingers curling in your hair and a sigh escaping his lips. “God, lover…” the words left him in a husky whisper, so low and breathy, and the sound had you squeezing your thighs together all over again. Blinking up at him innocently, you spit into your hand, shivering when Josh let out a little growl at the sight. Your heart racing, you wrapped all your fingers around the base of Josh’s thick cock, savoring the feeling of his warm skin, and the moan that slipped from him was so pretty you couldn’t wait any longer, starting to pump your hand slowly up and down his length. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, watching the way his expression changed, how his plush lips fell open, his brows knitting together a little, as he moaned out, “Oh, fuck…” Stroking him up and down, you began to repeatedly swipe your thumb over the head of his cock, and the action was making Josh grow breathless underneath you. You heard him sigh your name, his chest heaving, his hips beginning to buck against the motions of your hand.

Feeling drunk on desire and the way Josh was somehow continuing to harden in your grasp, you were unable to make yourself wait any longer. “I love this cock, Josh…” you managed to breathe out, another wave of desire washing over you as he tugged harder at your roots, biting his lip. “…and fuck, I need a taste….” The arousal was written all over Josh’s face, his cheeks flushed red and his mouth still hanging open.

His voice was breathier, a little shakier, when he opened his mouth to reply. “Go ahead, lover… it’s all yours…” The sound of that particular nickname leaving his lips while urging you to go on, his tone almost needy, made your eyes nearly roll back into your head with desire. Keeping your gaze on Josh while you continued to stroke his cock, you leaned forward, your head spinning and breaths coming fast and heavy. And when your lips touched his sensitive skin, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the head of his cock, the sound that escaped Josh was enough to send a lightning bolt of arousal straight through your entire body. His eyes were wide, lust-blown, his pretty lips hanging open as his chest heaved, tangling his fingers in your hair as your kisses turned into kitten licks to his head, exploring his soft skin, lapping at his arousal.

Josh was falling apart so quickly, and you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. Reeling from the taste of him, you started taking him deeper into your mouth, flames of desire licking up into your lower stomach with every moan from Josh, every buck of his hips. Expletives fell from his lips like a prayer as you continued, feeling every inch of him as you took him deeper into your mouth, further down your throat. Practically gagging on the sheer size of him, you finally reached the base of his cock, the tip of your nose pressing up against his pelvis as you blinked up at him with wide, almost innocent eyes. A strangled noise somewhere between a moan and a growl escaped him, his fingers holding a white-knuckled grip in your hair, while his whole face, neck, and even the top of his chest were flushing pink with arousal. “God… fuck… look at you… so fucking beautiful,” he was panting out, his words coming out in a desperate, rambling groan. You had never seen Josh so incoherent, and the sight was beyond dizzying. His praise was electrifying, and finally, you hollowed your cheeks around him, beginning to bob your head up and down his length. Josh let out a loud, uninhibited moan, throwing his head back and letting out another strangled “Fuck… oh, Jesus Christ…”

His moans, his body, his cock; it was all so unbearably addictive. The way his chest was rising and falling with such rapid, intense gasps. The way he was bucking his hips back against your eager mouth. The way his fat cock was somehow still getting harder, thicker inside your mouth. Swelling. Throbbing. The drool was practically dripping down your chin as you sucked him off, bobbing up and down, using your tongue to explore as you watched his contorted, blissed-out expression shift with spine-tingling curiosity. Josh’s hands were practically trembling in your hair as he continued to moan, praise, and curse— the words seeming to fall from his lips entirely involuntarily, as though erupting from his soul itself while you let his pleasure build.

You had almost entirely lost yourself in the taste of his cock, the way it was stretching your jaw, how it felt filling up your mouth and throat, that you were caught by surprise when Josh started pulling back with a shudder, his hard cock slipping from your lips with an obscene pop. Any confusion that you felt, however, was immediately dissipated when Josh breathed out, voice husky, “God, mama… I’m gonna fuckin’ cum if you don’t stop… and, fuck…” he was helping you stand to meet him at eye level again, his eyes dark and desperate as he stroked a hand through your hair, down past your cheek, dragging his fingertips down your neck. “I need to fuck you, lover…”

Hearing him say those words made your mouth fall open a little, beginning to nod before you could even speak. “Oh, God… please, Josh… fuck me. I need it. Please, just fuck me…” Upon hearing that, Josh was growling again, the sound still making your entire body tremble, as he began walking you backwards towards his sofa, his hands on your body and his eyes on yours, intense and hungry. Before long, you were trying to keep your breathing steady as Josh laid you down on the couch, his eyes all over you, his necklace dangling over you enticingly. Your heart pounding, you sat up against the arm of the sofa, biting your lip at Josh as you slowly, teasingly opened your legs wide for him. His gaze was ravenous as you blinked up at him, breathing out a soft, tantalizing, “Come and get it…”

That was all Josh needed. Immediately, he was climbing on top of you, positioning his flushed, firm body between your legs and letting one hand rest on either side of you on the arm of the couch. His face hovered above yours, his cheeks red and his eyes dark with arousal, as one hand landed on your shoulder, pinning you to the arm of the couch underneath him—- the action immediately sucking all of the air from your lungs. His free hand now began to slide down your body as he cocked his head, studying your expression with hungry brown eyes as he groped at your tits, then let his hand slide down your stomach, before letting his fingers part your folds. You moaned, bucking your hips into his touch, and a groan escaped Josh at that as he stared at you incredulously. “Fuck, mama… you’re so fucking wet…”

“God, Josh, it’s what you fucking do to me,” you panted, little whimpers and sighs escaping your lips as he gathered your wetness on his fingertips, before trailing up to play with your clit. After a moment of this, he trailed his fingers down, letting his index finger tease and press at your entrance, and you were moaning, nodding your head, the eye contact that Josh was maintaining heightening every feeling, every sensation. Upon your nod, he was pushing one long finger up into your cunt, and you were crying out all over again, your walls immediately clenching around him— and that drove both of you into near madness, as you immediately leaned up to kiss Josh as hard as you possibly could, moaning into his mouth, bucking your hips against his hand as he began to fuck you with his finger, pumping it in and out, getting your cunt ready for his cock.

You were grabbing at his body, at his necklace, his curls, pulling back to stammer pleas desperately against his lips. “More… God, Josh, I need more…” the words left your mouth in a rambling, desperate beg, and the low groan of desire that escaped him in response made your eyes roll back a little even before he slid a second finger into your pussy, fucking them in and out of your wetness as you writhed beneath him.

“What do you need?” His voice was husky, teasing, his eyes heavy-lidded and never leaving yours, his nose hovering millimeters above your own. Your heart felt like it could give out within your chest at any moment as Josh’s fingers worked you, stretched you. “I wanna hear you say it, lover…”

“Fuck, Josh… oh, God, I need your cock. Please…” you begged, reaching out and tugging at his curls, savoring the way he leaned into your touch. “…I’ve imagined it so many times, baby… please just fuck me…”

Those words, the admission that you’d pictured this before on numerous occasions, must’ve been exactly what Josh was looking for, as a moan even lower, darker, huskier left his lips. “Fuck, mama… sound so fucking pretty when you beg….” You shuddered at this, looking up at him with pleading eyes, as Josh nodded slowly, and pulled his fingers from your dripping pussy, the loss of contact making you shiver. You watched, dazed, desperate, as he wrapped those same fingers around his hard, thick cock; giving it a few solid pumps before lining it up at your entrance. The look in his eyes was unlike anything you’d ever seen before— powerful, commanding, full of need, while still unbearably affectionate. Practically loving. You could hardly think, drunk on your desire, gaze fixed on the beautiful man hovering above you. Teasingly, teeth sinking into his lower lip, Josh began to rub the head of his cock up and down your soaked slit, and the friction left you whining and bucking your hips desperately against him, his own mouth falling open at the contact. “Gonna fuck you so good, lover… so hard, so deep… gonna have you fucking screaming for me, mama…”

He didn’t even give you the time you needed to process his filthy words— because it was right as Josh spoke that he was pushing his hips forward, his hard, fat cock parting your folds, sliding into your tight, soaked cunt, inch after inch filling you up and stretching you out. Your eyes flew open wide, your mouth falling completely open alongside them as a moan louder than any you’d let out all night escaped your lungs. You weren’t alone, Josh’s own mouth hanging open with pleasure as his eyes rolled back a little, lashes fluttering wildly as he pushed in, up to the hilt. Your chest was heaving, hands desperately reaching to grab at Josh’s body, his strong arms, as little gasps and whimpers left your lips. “Oh, Josh… fuck… you’re so thick…”

He was groaning a little, fighting to keep his eyes open against the overwhelming pleasure of your cunt wrapped around his cock. “So fucking tight…” he managed, his voice restrained, rough, almost shaky. “…gonna move, lover…. you ready? You wanna get fucked?” It was all so overwhelming already, so dizzying, and you were nodding with unbridled desperation, clinging to his biceps as you fought to catch your breath. Yet, as Josh fulfilled his promise, it was clear you wouldn’t be finding your breath anytime soon.

Slowly, he was pulling back nearly all the way… before immediately thrusting his hips forward with such intensity, such purpose, that you cried out instantly, your hand flying to grip Josh’s necklace, which had been dangling just above your breasts ever since he climbed on top of you. He started slow, but the measured pace didn’t last long as he began to pick up speed, starting to thrust harder, faster, deeper. You were so quickly being rendered incoherent as his thick cock pushed in and out, hammering into your cunt and stretching you deliciously with every hard thrust. Moans of his name began to fall from your lips as he fucked you, and you found yourself wrapping your legs around his torso, hanging your head back with overwhelming pleasure as Josh fucked up into you again and again.

“You feel that, lover….? Fuck… you’re squeezing me… so fucking tight…” Josh was groaning, his gaze heavy, his eyelids fluttering, his eyes threatening to roll back again and again. He was twitching inside of you, throbbing, even, and the feeling was beyond intoxicating as you felt your thighs beginning to tremble around him.

“Oh, God… don’t stop, Josh, don’t stop… feels so good…” you were moaning, rolling your hips in response to his relentless thrusts, feeling your pleasure beginning to build rapidly for the second time that night. He growled, beginning to fuck you even harder, adjusting so he was slamming his hips into you from a new angle— and when the head of his cock began to shove up against your g-spot with every thrust, the cry that left your throat was so needy, so desperate, so whiny that it elicited a moan of matching intensity from Josh.

“I can feel you… fuckin’ clenching,” he was groaning, not once slowing the pace of his thrusts, his hand still pinning you to the arm of the couch below him as he fucked you. “You gonna cum again for me, sugar? Yeah? Gonna cum on my cock this time?”

You were whimpering, nodding, tears beginning to well in your eyes as Josh pounded into you, your tits bouncing with every hard thrust of his cock into your pussy. He never once hesitated, only continuing to hammer into you, his gaze intensifying, his sounds growing hungrier, more uninhibited. “Not gonna stop, sugar… gonna fuck you ‘til you’re cumming all over this hard cock… make this tight, pretty pussy cum for me…..”

His words were growing filthier by the moment, and it was only making your head spin even faster, your thighs tremble even harder, your grip on his necklace tighten as the heat began to build deep within your core. Tears began to spill from your eyes; the pleasure starting to become almost overwhelming, moments away from the edge— and Josh must’ve been able to tell, because all of a sudden, his fingers were right back on your clit, circling it mercilessly as his cock slammed into you again and again… and that was all it took.

With a desperate, pornographic cry of his name, you were clenching down onto Josh’s cock as your orgasm crashed over you. Wave after wave of pleasure wracked your entire body as you clung desperately to Josh, moaning again and again and trembling, shaking almost violently against him, seeing stars and practically sobbing as you melted into euphoria.

Josh was groaning, fucking you as hard as he could through your orgasm, his eyes beginning to roll back— and he managed to pull himself from your cunt just in time, your name leaving his lips in a desperate moan alongside a string of obscenities as he exploded all over your stomach, stroking his cock and bucking his hips into his hand. His expression was damn near angelic, his brows knitted together, his mouth wide open with ecstasy, before he caught his lower lip between his teeth, thrusting up into his hand as he finished riding out his high.

Slowly, slowly, gasping for air, you found yourself beginning to return to Earth, your grip loosening on Josh’s arms but refusing to let go, still savoring the feeling of his soft, warm skin; his muscles flexing underneath your fingertips. The chorus of moans between the two of you had evolved into breathless sighs as Josh collapsed onto you; and when you finally managed to open your eyes, you found yourself giggling without even meaning to— your head still spinning, your heart still racing.

Josh was breathing hard, a bashful grin on his face as his own eyes fluttered open, gazing down at you with what could only be described as adoration. Reaching up to run a hand through his tousled curls, you giggled again, your heart swelling in your chest at the way he was looking at you, before he began to join you in your shy laughter. “Wow…” you managed, biting your lip a little, as he let out a giggle of his own, nodding in agreement. You felt heat rising in your own cheeks as you admitted shyly, “Josh, I… you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that with you.”

He smiled at you, the affection in his gaze making you practically breathless as he said, “Truthfully? I think I do… because I’m sure I’ve wanted it just as long,” letting his arms slip around you, and the feeling was a new kind of dizzying. You giggled again, before leaning up to press another kiss to his lips— this one soft, slow, lingering. The frenzied hurry that had motivated the majority of your actions had dissipated as you realized, with a rush of excitement, that you had all the time in the world.

When the kiss broke, you were laughing again, running your hands across his arms, up to his cheeks, savoring the way his eyes fluttered shut at your touches. “All the time we’ve wasted…” you sighed with a grin, thinking about the months you’d spent pining after him, certain that your thoughts and feelings weren’t reciprocated. He was smiling down at you, holding you close to his body.

“We’re here now,” Josh said with a grin, pressing another kiss to your cheek. “And I intend to make the most out of every moment…” as you felt yourself blushing all over again, your heart racing. This really was just the beginning.

It was a long time before the two of you managed to work up the motivation to move from your positions tangled together on the couch, but Josh’s promise of a warm shower and the invitation to share his bed was more than enough to convince you. As he helped you to your feet, his arm wrapping around your waist while your thighs trembled, you felt your heart nearly overflowing with affection. When you turned to look at him, however, a thought struck you that left you giggling all over again, leaving Josh looking at you with a curious grin, arching an eyebrow inquisitively. “What’s bringing on that cute giggle now…?”

You grinned at him, biting your lip and leaning in to press another kiss to his cheek. “Tonight may have been our best adventure yet.”

He laughed again, his happiness utterly infectious, as he leaned in, his lips only millimeters from yours. “And we’ve got plenty more to come, lover.” Closing the distance between the two of you, this kiss was gentle, passionate. A promise that he was yours. That you were his.

As you two headed towards his room, his arm around your waist, there was one thing that was certain. No matter what else was to come, you knew that Josh was right. You two had so many adventures in store.

And you couldn’t wait to rediscover it all.

TAGLIST: @sinsofstardust @jakesguitarsolo @losfacedevil @kenobicoffee @sparrowofthedawnsworld @gold-mines-melting @texas-bbq-pringles @mountain-in-springtime @alwaysonthemend @tripthelightfatality @runwayblues @shutupdevvie @heavens-hearken @godly-sinsx @sacredjake @ignite-my-fire @kiska-enthusiast @songbirds-sweet @viagvf @wetkleenex-gvf @jaketsparrow @rhythm-of-space @the-starcatcher @hsfallingsky @fuckyoutommie @earthlysorrows @ascendingtostardust @joshsindigostreak

If you want to be added to my taglist, you can do that right here! Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it 🥰 All my love, Li xoxo

#josh kiszka fic #josh kiszka smut #josh kiszka x reader #greta van fleet smut #greta van smut #josh kiszka #greta van fleet #li speaks #writing tag

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holesinmycamouflage · 9 months

Text

make it two || conrad fisher

Summary: you have history with conrad fisher & an emotional conversation brings it to light

Warnings: A mention of a spoiler from season 2

“What’s your biggest regret?”

The sound of Conrad Fisher’s voice tore through the waves that were crashing up on the sand. It was the first alternative sound that you have heard in the last two hours and it broke you out of your daydream. You were laying on the sand, staring up at the dark sky that was lit up with glistening stars and the occasional plane sweeping through the air.

Everything was getting too much in the house and you snuck away. A text to Belly ensured her that everything was okay but you just needed air. You knew it wouldn't have been long until someone came to hunt you down.

“And there you go again, Fisher,” you sighed, voice straining and you tried to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill down your cheek, “always the deep, dark questions.”

“The answer doesn’t always have to be dark,” Conrad slowly sat down beside you, careful to not disrupt the sand too much. He lay on his side, propping his head up with his palm, and you could feel his gaze roaming your face.

Seconds turned into minutes before you spoke again, the words falling softly off your tongue, “I regret not coming up here last summer but I think you knew that, Connie.”

Without a second thought, Conrad brushed his thumb over the cheek closest to him and wiped the tear away which led to your lips quivering under the determination to not sob in front of him. You looked up through your eyelashes, praying silently that you wouldn’t break down but you knew that this has been building over the last couple of days that you’ve been back to Cousins.

The waves were non-existent as Conrad moved his hand slowly to cup your jaw and turn your gaze to him. You breathed in an unexpected sigh at the sight of his brown eyes staring back at you. Hurt. Pain. Regret. You recognised the emotions too easily.

“You didn’t know,” he whispered, “No one did and that’s what my mother would have wanted.”

His words were meant to give you a sense of relief, but instead they struck a cord that you have been carefully avoiding since the death of Susannah. Anger washed through your veins and you sat up, bringing Conrad with you. “She knew and she refused to tell me, she refused to beg me to come here to have.. To have one last summer with her.” Your voice wasn’t loud, but there was frustration dripping from the words, “She didn't fight."

“She didn’t want you to give up your life for her.”

“Stop defending her, Conrad!” you screamed, standing up and walking away from him.

“Y/N,” Conrad snapped, chasing after you as you rushed down further away from the house you grew up in. “You had a great summer, with your friends.. At your parties, living your life, as she wanted you to.”

This has been a topic that everyone has been avoiding since you arrived with Jeremiah. You never made it down to Cousins last Summer and it was all because you wanted to spend time with your friends. "I'm not a child anymore, mother, you can't make me go." were the words you said to your mother before she made the devastating call to Susannah.

You turned quickly on your heels, stopping dead in your tracks, “She was my life! You! Jeremiah! Belly! Even Steven!” Conrad was about a meter away from you, but you shouted the names at him, “I was too stubborn to give up one more summer to see you again, to see Suzannah again.. I thought I was too cool for Cousins, I kept saying to my mother ‘there’s always next year’ but now… that’s it,” you breathed out, looking him in the eye and seeing his heart break for you. “There's not a next year and there's nothing we can do about it.”

Before you knew it, Conrad wrapped his arms around you and pulled you to his chest. His chest was rising and falling, taking in the information you screamed at him. You couldn’t stop the tears from taking over, everything became too much and you were thankful that your face was smudged into his t-shirt. “It’s my fault,” you repeated, hearing Conrad shush you and running his hand up and down the back of your head. His aftershave swirled around you, it was like a drug to you, calming you down immediately.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, and you could feel his chest shake with his own tears. The realization hit you hard, it’s always him. He always has you.

Conrad guided both of your bodies to the sand, sitting back and letting you release the build up of emotions. You couldn’t tell how much time passed, but from the pain starting to come up your back, you knew it was time to face the music.

Pulling back from Conrad, he let you go gently, his eyes never leaving your face. You breathed out, your eyes feeling puffy and swollen, “I’m sorry about that.”

“You know there’s no reason to be sorry,” his voice was soft, just like it always was. Conrad Fisher was too pure for this world. “I should have told you the moment I found out but..” he paused, “things were complicated between us.”

You nodded understandingly. The last time you saw Conrad, it was hard saying goodbye to him. There was a first and last kiss, and the distance became too much for the both of you. Missed phone calls, forgotten texts and two teenagers trying to be adults. You need to live, and so did he.

“I do wish you called.”

“That’s my biggest regret,” Conrad whispered, before taking your hand in his and bringing it to his lips, placing a soft kiss on it, “I’ll live with that for the rest of my life, for making you feel this way.”

“Connie,” you breathed out, twisting your body to look at him with both eyes, “It wasn’t your fault, please believe that.” You watched his tongue dart from his mouth to lick his bottom lip, feeling your heart start to get heavy. Since the moment you returned to Cousins, your heart has been aching for Conrad like it always has been. “I missed you,” at your confession, the pain disappeared from Conrad’s eyes, and they softened with the side of his lips turning upwards.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he whispered, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek and he didn't miss the nervous gulp you took which only made him chuckle. “Y/N, I’m not me when you’re not with me. You change everything, you make me a better person and I… really like you for that,” he hesitated, a mischievous glint flickered in his stare.

“Were you just about to admit your love for me?” you teased, your mouth growing wide and your teeth were on full display.

“I think everyone and their dog knows that I love you, y/n y/l/n. I fell in love with you the moment I met you.”

“We were five,” you chuckled, shifting closer to him.

Conrad shook his head with a laugh, his thumb massaging your jaw gently, “and yet we’ve only ever had one kiss, how unfair is that?”

“Why don’t we make it two kisses tonight?”

#the summer i turned pretty #tsitp #conrad fisher #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher x y/n #tsitp cast #conrad fisher x you #tsitp imagine #the summer i turned pretty fic #conrad fisher fic #conrad fisher imagine #jeremiah fisher

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mangowafflesss · 4 months

Text

HATRED FOR YOU | PART 4

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!Writer!Reader

Summary: You spend the day with Simon [Simon performing multiple book boyfriend activities]

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 5]

{Tags: @dontyouworrydaddy @chrrybl0ss0m @skulfan1 @lialacleaf @ghosts-cyphera @delaynew @arminarlertssword @vynz0ne @the-faceless-bride @plk-18 @gluttonybiscuits @jinxxangel13 @redrumarsenic @redheaded-hobbit }

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Simon opened his metal mailbox with the key and grabbed the contents inside before locking it shut. He flicked through the letters quickly before his eyes lit up at the brown package in his hands. He doesn't bother waiting for the elevator to come and instead bolts it up the stairs, skipping a couple at a time till he reaches his floor.

He fumbles with his keys to his front door and eventually drops them on the floor, with a huff he bends down to pick them up and as he does he hears your door open.

“Oh, morning neighbour” he heard you say in a strange country accent. He peered at you over his shoulder to acknowledge your presence and stopped when he saw you dressed like you’re about to fight off the biggest breeze in history.

Turning around fully he cocks his head to the side as he takes in your appearance, a massive scarf is wrapped around your neck almost covering your mouth and a matching hat sits upon your head. A woolly, knee length coat swallows you and he watches as you pat your pockets with an annoyed huff.

“It's not that cold today” he states and you stop your pocket tapping before returning your attention to him. “It says it's going to snow today. Can't be too careful with the weather” true, but also Simon can’t remember a time when it had ever been that cold when living here, but he doesn't know what people feel.

You unlock your front door with slight annoyance before picking up your gloves you left inside and place them safely in your pocket while you lock the door back up again. When you return back onto the landing you notice Simon is still standing where you left him, your gaze lands on the brown package nestled under his armpit and you nod your head towards it.

“What've you got in there?” you ask while pulling on your gloves. He lifts it from under his arm and waves it “A book” you hum softly and see the faint sticker that has your publishing logo printed on it peeking through a gap in his fingers. “I hope you enjoy it” you take a step towards the doors of the elevators and hear Simon move behind you.

“Where are you going?” he asks, curious as to where you’re about to spend your day. “Why? You want to come with me?” you joke but he doesn't say anything so you clear your throat in the awkward silence. “I was going to go for a walk, clear my mind then perhaps stop by that new bookstore in town” he looks into the air as if he's picturing where the bookstore you’re talking about is and simply nods.

When he turns to his door, you move forwards towards him and as he gets through his door you catch his attention. “You could come with me, if you aren't busy. I could always use a second opinion when buying books” you smile and point towards the one still locked in his grip.

Please say yes, please, please, pleaseeee don't leave me here looking like an idiot (again).

“I'll come”

“Perfect”

You wait as he rummages through his apartment before coming back out with a jacket to put over his hoodie. You raise an eyebrow at him as you both walk towards the elevator doors, he presses the button and as you wait you speak “I thought you said it wasn't that cold?” you gesture to his jacket and he shrugs before answering “Maybe you might need it, I’m very considerate” he smirks and you roll your eyes.

He walks into the elevator and you follow closely behind. On the ride down it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence as it usually is when you’re with other people who live in the building.

The doors woosh open and you both walk towards the front door of the building. He pulled open the door and held it so you could walk through first. Saying a quick thanks, you go out into the street and wait for him to join you, it doesn't take him long due to his big strides.

You walk side by side down the street, cars drive past while birds fly over your heads with a small tweet. It was peaceful at this time of day and you loved it. There was a small breeze and the further you walked you realised that maybe you were being a little over dramatic with the accessories.

Not wanting to show he was right, you continue with the small conversation you were having while you walked through the town you lived in.

“So what you’re telling me is, you can’t tell me what you do but all I need to know is that it's dangerous?” you say slowly, trying to put his previous words together in your head. He hums softly and you look up at him with questioning eyes.

“Is this why I don’t see you very often?” he hums again and you scoff “You're a man of many words aren't you” another hum comes from mouth and you groan in fake annoyance.

“Well alright, I’m not telling you about my super dangerous job either” you say with a smirk on your face as you turn the corner to your favourite place.

You walk through the door with a smile on your face as you hear the very same jingle you always do. The overpowering smell of everything sweet just hits you and you turn to Simon who is looking at his surroundings.

“I know what you’re probably thinking… ‘What are we doing here? This is not part of the plan’ well Mr I don’t take shortbread from strangers, we’re here to get the very thing you’ve yet to try in my presence” you point to the display cabinet and smile brightly at the options.

“You really want me to try it don’t you?” You nod slowly with the same, slightly creepy, smile on your face. He sighs softly and gestures for you to move towards the counter that you’re not paying attention to.

When you turn around after the customers in front of you leave your body lights up. “Rocco! Your finest shortbread my good sir!” You pat the marble top and the man behind rolls his eyes “You’re very energetic this morning, does it have anything to do with the fella you walked in with” he points at you and then at Simon with metal tongs and you shake your head immediately.

“We’re neighbours” you say simultaneously and briefly glance at one another. Rocco puts his hands up in a defensive stance before returning to his task. “I wanted him to try your shortbread, he refused last time so I’m determined to shove it down his throat” you smile sweetly up at your neighbour who just playfully shoves your knee with his.

“Well, I hope he enjoys” Rocco pushes the bag Simon’s way and as you hand the money to the shop worker he shakes his head “You know everything’s on the house for you. Have a good day” you scoff before shoving the money into the tip jar like you always do and follow Simon outside.

Not even two seconds out of the door and you bounce on your heels and practically jump at the man next to you. “Try some!” You urge and watch him pull out a piece and put it in his mouth. You watch him intensely and see the change in his expression when he swallows the sweet treat.

“So…”

“It’s good”

“Just good?”

He hums and you punch him in the arm “You’re playing with me! Tell me how you really feel” you wait for him to answer you and as you do, you reach into the bag but before you get near it he holds it close to his chest “I thought these were for me?” He teases and you glare at him. “I hate you”

“Fine. They’re great, the best I’ve ever had” he admits in a rather unenthusiastic way but it’s probably the only answer you’ll get. “I knew you would”

The rest of the walk went well, you chatted about random subjects while spotting things in your environment. You both snacked on some shortbread and Simon broke the last piece in half to share so you’ll have ‘equal pieces’ even though you’re sure you had one extra than he did.

When you arrive at the new bookstore you’re blown away at the size of it.

“It has three floors?!” You pull on Simon’s sleeve as you look up at the other floors above. He follows your movements and takes a look at the sheer size of the place.

You browse through the many rows of books and skim through different pages of certain ones you’re thinking about getting, you ask Simon for his opinion and he says some very good points. Sometimes.

“It’s just another romance” he states and you look at him with a deadpan look.

“And?”

“You have three already, don’t you like any other genres?”

“Don’t you like romance?”

“Do I look like I read romance” he points to himself and you take a chance to look at him from head to toe very slowly while humming to yourself as if you’re thinking.

You already know the answer which is very amusing.

“I think you enjoy a good old romcom” you say while turning back to the shelf in front of you and reading the blurb of a book. You add it to your pile in your arms and leave him standing in the romance section to be with his thoughts.

You walk past a sign of worldwide best sellers and see yours at the top of the pile in all its glory.

“Have you ever read their books?” A voice says behind you and you nearly drop all the books in your arms. Swirling around you see Simon standing there with his hands in his pockets while reading the sign of best sellers.

Have you ever read their books? Yes, In fact I wrote them but no one knows it’s me because I’ve hidden my identity the entire time except from a select few.

“No, are they good?” You try to act normal but you’re most definitely not acting normal right now. Is it really hot in here all of a sudden?

“I love them. Mystery’s are my favourite” he answers and you point to a sign saying romance below the sign “oh yeah? And what does that say?”

“There’s a small amount of romance, it’s not entirely romantic”

“Mmhmm, okay lover boy. It’s okay to admit you like something you know” you laugh and he stands there with his arms over his chest like a toddler.

“C’mon lover boy! We’ve got another floor to explore” you shout over your shoulder as you walk towards the stairs leading to the higher level.

You move around the last floor with excitement, this is the darkest level. Low lights to match the content of the ink in the pages all around you. You readjust your grip on the books in your arm, which were getting heavy, and look in awe at the books around you.

The covers were decorated beautifully, the ends of pages were sometimes covered by the most beautiful colour of gold or red you’ve ever seen.

You bend down to pick a book off the bottom shelf and as you do so a book falls off your pile you created in your arm.

When you go to pick it up you’re already beat to it. “Pass them here” he reaches for the books in your arms and you don’t have a chance to do anything as he takes the pile from you.

“It’s okay, you don’t have-”

“Go pick whatever you want” he nods his head to the shelf and you give him one last look before piling more books into his arms.

You leave the bookstore with a bag full of new reads to put on your new shelf. Simon got one book which you paid for after a small fight in front of the cashier.

You both walk back to your apartment building, Simon holding the bag of books as if they don’t weigh a ton.

It was silent for a while until Simon decided to talk first. “How do you know Rocco?” He asks and you take in a deep breath before releasing it into the now frigid air.

“I was new to town. I was exploring and saw the bakery with only a few customers inside, I didn’t go in straight away. I waited a couple of weeks before I actually ventured inside and when I did it was amazing. He helped me when I couldn’t and I feel as if I owe him everything” you speak fondly of the man as you zone out of reality for a second.

“He seems like a nice bloke”

“Very. His wife, Steph, is lovely too. Sometimes I feel as if they’re my second parents” you laugh softly at memories of them in your head but they fade away as you feel something touch your nose.

Stopping for a second, you scan your surroundings and see small flecks of white fall softly in your vision.

“Oh my god! I was right! It’s snowing” you turn to Simon and see some of the snowflakes settling into his hair. His nose and cheeks are a little pink due to the temperature drop and you take in the scene for a second before carrying on your walk.

As you arrive at your building, you open the door this time and let Simon enter first. He dips his head to you and shakes his head to let the excess water weighing down his hair out. You let out a squeal and shove at him to move him.

“Hey! That’s not fair” you wipe the water from your face with a scowl but stop when you notice how adorable he looks right now. Messy hair, cold bitten face and a cheeky smile on his face.

Before you do something stupid you take off towards the elevator and press the button. He arrives next to you a moment later and you both wait before getting inside and riding up to your floor.

You silently tap your finger against your bag before hearing the familiar ding and the doors opening.

You both get out and you walk towards your door before hearing him clear his throat behind you. Turning around you see him holding up the bag of books into the air as if you had forgotten about them, his book already in his other hand.

Taking a step towards him you grab the handles and when you do you feel the coldness of his hands. “Your hands are so cold!”

“It is snowing outside”

Rolling your eyes, you can’t hide the smile on your face and retreat to your front door. “Thank you for the fun day”

“It’s my pleasure” he says before unlocking his door and disappearing inside, you do the same and get to work putting your new buys away.

Simon enters his apartment and spots the brown package still waiting for him on the table in his living room. Abandoning the new book he you bought, he goes straight for that and rips it open, eager to get inside.

The silvery cover shines brightly in his eyes and a small smile breaks out onto his face. Carefully opening the cover he’s met with something special.

To Simon,

Thank you for your support of loving Hatred for You! I hope you enjoy your special edition copy.

Lots of love, Y. N. ♡

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x female reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x female reader

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parasitical-if · 1 year

Text

DEMO Currently finished—Prologue, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three. ~81k words, average playthrough ~30k. ——— His flesh, our sustenance. His blood, our drink. His bones, our foundation, His body, our haven.

Five hundred years ago, the Earth was dying. Water polluted, dirt infertile, forests and meadows crumbling to the wars of steel and fire. And so the Order called His Grace, the Lord of Communion, down from where he rested before and He allowed humanity to rest inside his body.

Or at least, that's the story the Order tells.

You grew up under the masked faces of their Exalted, under the stories of Earth past. Rusted metal and cracked plastic; His bone and His flesh. Conflicting worlds, conflicting times, and soon, it might all come to a head.

Play as a recruit of the Order, an Exalted.

Be male, female, or nonbinary.

Customize your appearance.

Romance five separate characters.

Shape yourself—are you pragmatic or empathetic? Do you speak out or remain silent? Do you trust the Order, and do they trust you?

Align yourself with different factions based on moral imaginings.

Experience a world of greater things than you can imagine, but where your choices still matter.

Tallis/Talyn/Taira: Green eyes and long, auburn hair. Your childhood friend—Or, at least, companion. They aren't the biggest fan of the Order. Perhaps that will have greater implications than simple complaints as the situation grows more dire.

August: Blonde, sharp, and severe, he's the one who brought you into the fold. A zealot, some might call him. The Order doesn't name His Grace as a God, but August certainly seems to think that He is.

El: Long, thick black hair, skin tanned and freckled. She's a mechanic of the Order. Talented, there's no doubt about it, despite her occasional airheadedness. Sometimes, you can't help but feel that she's hiding something.

Jasper: Gender selectable. Muscled either way, with dark skin and deep brown eyes. Loud and arrogant—and they have what it takes to back it up. As the first new arrival to the Commune in… all of history, they could pose as an omen or a savior. Either way, they might shatter everything that you thought you knew.

Icarus: The Head of the Order. Everything else about them is shrouded in mystery.

Copious mentions of blood/flesh(Nonhuman, not caused by violence.)

DISCLAIMER: I'm a student and a slow writer in general, so updates might not be very frequent. Nevertheless, I'll try to see this story through.

3/7/23: First posted with Prologue and 1/2 of Chapter One, ~22k words.

3/11/23: Second half of Chapter One was posted. Story now at ~30.5k words.

4/27/23: Chapter two posted, bringing story to ~47k words.

9/30/23: Chapter three posted, bringing story up to ~81k words.

Up next: Chapter four. For more information, see: Forums page.

#interactive fiction #choicescript #if wip #parasitical if #choice of games #hosted games #cog wip #dashingdon #cyoa #interactive game

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ausetkmt · 7 months

Text

Lynching victim Rubin Stacy’s story being told by his family in film screening at NSU

Anne Naves knew something bad had happened to her uncle when her male relatives came home from fishing, each wearing a pall of silence. Dad wasn’t cracking jokes like usual. Grandfather looked grave. And her uncle, Rubin Stacy, hadn’t come back. The next day, someone from the funeral home said a body had been dropped off.

Naves, 8 years old at the time, only discovered the full gruesome truth about her uncle years later. On July 19, 1935, acting on an unproven accusation from a white woman, a masked lynch mob strung up Stacy under a Fort Lauderdale tree, hanged him and shot him 17 times as spectators gawked and children laughed.

The brutality and silence of Stacy’s lynching is revisited in the new documentary, “Rubin,” which will screen on Tuesday, Oct. 3, at Nova Southeastern University. In the hourlong film, the farmhand’s death is recounted through the eyes of his surviving descendants, but mainly through Naves, who was the last living eyewitness to the trauma — and to the secrecy — that followed.

The film, the first to be made by relatives of Stacy’s family, also chronicles the history of lynchings in America, used as a tool of punishment and to foster silence.

“I think (my family) knew that, without telling us (kids) what really happened, they would save us a lot of trauma,” Naves says in the documentary. “The neighbors and our church members respected our silence, too, because they knew that if it could happen to our family, it could happen to theirs.”

For “Rubin” director Tenille Brown, who is a cousin of Rubin Stacy, the film has in recent weeks also morphed into something else: a posthumous tribute to Naves. After filming her interviews for the documentary, she died on Sept. 18 at age 96, leaving behind a strong legacy: She was a Broward County educator for 25 years, teaching at Pines Middle and other schools.

“The biggest piece of the film was Anne,” Brown says in an interview with the South Florida Sun Sentinel. “Without her, there’s no story. She’s the driving force. She was ready to talk. She told me to record her. She really pushed me when I didn’t feel confident and said, ‘Record me anyway. Just go.’ ”

The rest of America witnessed the cruelty of Stacy’s lynching long before Naves did. A series of photos immortalize the moment when a white crowd gathered around Stacy’s body hanging from a tree. These images ran in newspapers nationwide, were published by the NAACP, Life magazine and National Geographic, and are now archived in the Library of Congress.

It was a tale of Jim Crow-era racism that Fort Lauderdale would’ve rather forgotten — the brother of a corrupt Broward County sheriff participated in the lynching — but city officials have made strides in recent years to acknowledge the tragedy by placing memorial markers around Fort Lauderdale. One is on Davie Boulevard and Southwest 31st Avenue, also known as Martin Luther King Jr. Avenue, near where Stacy took his last breath. There’s another on the 800 block of Northwest Second Street, where he lived, and a third at Woodlawn Cemetery, his final resting place. In February 2022, a section of Davie Boulevard was renamed Rubin Stacy Memorial Boulevard.

“I’m glad they acknowledged it,” says Brown, of Pompano Beach. “These stories make some people in the state uncomfortable, but if they are based on fact, we need to tell the truth. You can’t turn your head. These are things you can’t ignore.”

For Brown, it was these memorials — and Naves’ willingness to break her silence — that motivated her to reconstruct Stacy’s story. To do so, she also interviewed Ken Cutler, Parkland commissioner and historian, and Tameka Bradley Hobbs, library regional manager of Fort Lauderdale’s African American Research Library and Cultural Center.

“My family didn’t want to talk about it out of fear for years,” Brown says. “There was shame. There’s an element of hurt, and you can hear that emotion in Anne’s voice. Now it feels freeing. This is a story that was suppressed for years and by sharing it, this is how we overcome.”

Michael Anderson, a producer for “Rubin,” says the film also tackles what too many school textbooks don’t stress enough: the history of Black lynchings.

“For Black youth to know their stories, they have to know the history of lynchings,” Anderson says. “They still don’t know how lynchings were used as a weapon to keep a community quiet. That’s exactly what it did to Rubin Stacy’s family.”

IF YOU GO

WHAT: “Rubin”

WHEN: 7 p.m. Tuesday, Oct. 3

WHERE: NSU’s Rose & Alfred Miniaci Performing Arts Center, 3100 Ray Ferrero Jr. Blvd., Davie

COST: Free, but tickets must be presented for entry

INFORMATION: 954-462-0222; MiniaciPAC.com

#https://www.msn.com/en-us/news/other/lynching-victim-rubin-stacy-s-story-being-told-by-his-family-in-film-screening-at-nsu/ar-AA1huFAr #Lynching in america #Black People #Black American Lynchings #Lynching victim Rubin Stacy’s story being told by his family in film screening at NSU

149 notes · View notes

honeyedmiller · 1 year

Text

Brown Eyes | Din Djarin

pairing: din djarin x f!reader

disclaimer: brief season 3 spoilers ahead. read at your own discretion.

warnings: brief mentions of violence, very little cursing, tooth-rotting fluff, Din is honestly such a simp in this (we love that tbh), and smut. 18+. minors dni.

word count: 4.5k

synopsis: Din comes back to Nevarro only to find his favorite soldier acting as an interim Marshall, and the reunion is everything he could’ve hoped for.

divider by @saradika 🖤

Din felt the weight of the galaxy lift off his shoulders after Moff Gideon's defeat.

Maybe he'd finally know peace.

When he came back to Nevarro after the fact, he was happily greeted by his good friend, Greef Karga.

Greef didn't hesitate to gift Mando his very own home, where he could raise his son and train him to be an apprentice. The whole city was gathered at the main courtyard, welcoming the Mandalorian and his son back with pride. You stepped down the stairs and stood next to Greef with the biggest smile on your face.

You'd fought side-by-side with the man in glinting beskar, and to see him finally get to rest made you so happy. He could finally settle for awhile.

"Well look who it is," You grin up at Din's tall stature after Greef gives him the key to his new home, "Didn't think I'd see you for a good while." You chuckle as he looks down at you, his body language displaying shock.

"What are you doing here?" Din asks in surprise, before getting interrupted by Greef.

"Oh good, why don't you show Din to his new place?" Greef asks you kindly, and you nod your head.

"Gladly." You nudge your head to the right, signaling Din to start walking with you.

"So what, you live here on Nevarro now?" Din asks, pocketing his new key.

"You're looking at the new interim Marshall." You're prideful of your new position assigned to you for now, but you still want to remain humble about it.

"Good. It's well deserved." Din nodded at you, pulling you into his side for a semi-awkward side hug. You're the only person he'd ever be comfortable touching like that. You two have an extensive history of battling together, almost dying a few times, being held hostage, rescuing each other—the list goes on. Needless to say, you both've spent lots of time together, always having each other's backs.

You couldn't deny the tension, though. There was always something in the stillness of Din that made you so curious about him. Everything he did mattered; he always moved with purpose. He was always so sure of himself, especially when it came to kicking ass.

The one thing you'll never forget about him, though, is his beautiful face. You'd happened to be there the day Luke came to take Grogu, leaving Din in tears. Even at his weakest, with hot tears in his eyes, he was still so beautiful.

You often dreamed about him, especially more so now that you know what he looked like. You never told a soul what happened on the ship that day, though, and nobody needed to know.

Nobody on that ship—especially you and Cara, ever talked about it. You were just happy to see Grogu back with his rightful parent.

Unbeknownst to you, Din often let his mind wander to you as well. Especially when it was just him in his ship, while Grogu was asleep. He couldn't help it. You were so beautiful, and the fact that you were practically a warrior made him want to melt to his knees.

He quite literally would worship the ground you walked on, if you let him.

You both reached his humble abode, Din admiring the pond right in front of his new house. His heart warmed at the thought of his son playing in those waters.

"Here you are. I live right down that way," You jerk your thumb over your shoulder to a very similar house only about a thousand feet away, "Pretty sure you'll be seeing a lot of me. Hope you don't get tired of my face." You laugh, and Din chuckles as he shakes his head.

"Not likely. Don't think I'll ever get tired of you." His voice is soft through the modulator, making a pink heat spread across your cheeks quickly at his confession.

"Well, if you need anything, I'll be that way." Your smile is small as you quickly turn on your heel, dirt crunching underneath your boots as you walked toward your house. You were walking so quickly that a small cloud of dust crowded your feet, and Din chuckled to himself as he saw what a simple flirtatious compliment did to you.

Deep down, maybe even surface-level, he was glad he was going to see you much more often now that you two were actually neighbors.

He looked down at his green, bug-eyed son with a smile underneath the helmet, "C'mon kid, let's get settled in."

A few days went by and Din was a bit disappointed that he hadn't seen you since you showed him to his house. He had so much free time on his hands that he quite literally didn't know what to do with himself, other than train Grogu for a couple hours at a time or polish his flashy N-1 Starfighter.

Sure he could go out into the city and mingle, but that's never been his thing. He's always been a man of few words, and he'd like it to remain that way. The only person he'd be interested in talking to for hours is you.

Your absence had a pull on his slightly lonely heart, but he knew you were busy. So, when he finally sees you for the first time in three days, he's secretly ecstatic.

"Hey." He calls out to you, beskar glinting in the Nevarro sunset. It was a warm day. The breeze was light, tampering with your flight suit as you walked up to him with a smile.

"Mesh'la." He whispers so low that his modulator couldn't even pick up on it.

"Hey, Din." You stopped right in front of him, tilting your head back a bit so your eyes could align with his visor.

"Haven't seen you in a few days." He states the obvious. Din was always nervous around you, though he hid it well, he knew he sucked at trying to hold a decent conversation with you.

The most talking you two ever really did was when you were by his side rescuing his son with him and Cara, and most of it consisted of shouting over the sound of blasters. That, and those late nights where you both couldn’t sleep so you stayed up with your backs up against the metal wall of the Razor Crest, talking about life in general.

"Yeah, Karga had a few assignments for me to do the past few days. How've you been settling in?" Your smile beams up at him, reaching out a hand to touch his bicep.

He looked down at your hand, going still for a moment before trying to relax.

Maker, he needed to pull himself together.

"Good, actually. Grogu is doing really well with his training so far." Din's voice is light, sounding happy. It was music to your ears.

"And what about you, Din Djarin? How are you handling the change of pace?" You poke his chest plate teasingly, prodding him to answer you truthfully.

"It's a bit lonely, but it's peaceful. I like it." He answers you modestly, and you nod.

"I get what you mean. That's why I keep busy, to try and distract myself from the loneliness." You chuckle, moving your hand back down to your side.

"Well, would you like to be less lonely and join me for a drink? Karga gave me a bottle upon my return. Don't think I can finish it all by myself." Din's voice held a shyness that you branded in your brain forever.

Without skipping a beat, you nod your head. "I'd love to."

"Wait wait wait," Your eyebrows thread together in complete bewilderment, "You mean to tell me that you nearly drowned in the Living Waters of Mandalore, only for the Armorer to tell Lady Kryze that it was okay for her to walk both ways?" You're trying so hard to wrap your head around Din's story.

You two were currently sitting at his kitchen table, enjoying the delicious liquid gold in a bottle that Greef gifted Din. You both were on your third cup as the stories kept spilling out from the beautiful brown-haired, brown-eyed man sitting across from you.

He'd taken his helmet off in the comfort of his own home, which you most certainly weren't expecting. You wanted to reach out and touch his beautiful features, but you kept your greedy hands by your side.

It was so nice to see him be so carefree for once even if it was just for a little while.

"Yeah," He chuckled, eyes averting to his nearly empty cup. "So technically I wouldn't be an apostate again." He looks up at you, and you offer him a warm smile.

You made sure to listen to all of his stories attentively, each one more terrifying, heart wrenching, and nail biting than the last.

Din was the most interesting person you knew. Though he never really said much around others, he had many stories to tell of his wild adventures all throughout the galaxy. Every single one of them was enough adventure to last one person a lifetime, but he kept opting for more.

You look back up at him, eyelashes fluttering and lips parted as his stare was eminent on you.

“What?” You’re finding yourself blushing under his stare.

“You’re so beautiful, cyar’ika.” Din’s voice is almost a whisper as a small smile etches its way onto his pink lips.

You were suddenly too shy to look this beautiful man in the eyes. Those big, dark, beautiful eyes made it feel like he was staring into your soul in that very moment.

Your eyes averted to the empty cup in front of you on the table, with a small “thank you” that escaped you.

“Let me show you how beautiful you are. Please.”

Your eyes shot up to him, shock not even beginning to cover what you felt. There’s no way this man, that you fought side-by-side with in many troubling battles, was willing to be so vulnerable for you. With you.

Still, you couldn’t help but want him. Maybe it was the alcohol flowing through your system, or your long-time secret pining after him. Maybe it was both. You wanted to feel what it would be like in his strong arms as he made sweet love to you, or maker above, even fucked you into oblivion. Had he ever even done it before?

“I’m sorry, cyar’ika. Maybe my advances were too strong.” Embarrassment started to creep over him as you realized you’d yet to answer his request. He really wish he had his helmet on right about now to avoid the flush creeping up his neck, making its way to his cheeks.

You immediately shake your head, “No, Din. I’d love that. Please, show me.” You’re breathless as you move to stand up, him following suit.

He meets you in the middle of the distance you two had before, pulling you in by your hips. Your eyes were wide with wonder, and you slowly reached one hand up to caress his stubbled cheek, while the other rested comfortably on his chest plate.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a very long time.” Din confesses, tightening his grip on you.

“Really?” You’re in such disbelief. If only you saw the way he’d always look at you when he had his helmet on, then maybe you’d not be so apprehensive to believe him.

“Since I first laid my eyes on you.” Your hand moves from his cheek to the back of his thick head of soft curls, closing the gap between you two. You had to stand on your tippy toes to reach him because he towered over you that much.

His lips on yours was even better than both of you could’ve imagined, and you’d both imagined it more often than not. You moan softly into the kiss, and Din pats your hips to signal you to jump. You obey his silent command, and he easily catches your thighs as you wrap your legs around his waist.

His cold armor pressed against your body in contrast with the summer heat of Nevarro was bone-chilling.

The kissed picked up as he started toward his bedroom, anticipation blooming in your stomach. It’d been so long since you’ve been intimate with someone, so you were a bit nervous.

Din could feel your tenseness, so he pulls apart from you as he lays you down on his soft bed. This bed was so big and luxurious compared to the one he used to have on the Razor Crest. You smile to yourself at the thought.

“Relax, sweetheart. You’re safe with me. I promise.” He smiles down at you and you lean back on the bed, sighing in content. You stare up at the ceiling until you hear a small ‘clank’, in which your eyes avert back to Din. He was slowly removing all of his armor, until he was left in nothing but his flight suit underneath.

“Hey, look, we’re matching.” You joke as you motion down to your flight suit which was very similar to his.

“I’d rather see you in your birthday suit than your flight suit.” Din’s cheekiness always fascinated you. You smile wickedly as you bite your lip, leaning up on your elbows. He moves back to hover over you once more, his face mere inches from yours.

“So take it off of me, then.” You coax him as you drag your index finger from his cheek, down the side of his throat, until you reach the middle of his torso.

He huffs out a small laugh as a smirk appears on his lips.

"Always so eager." He teases, kissing you once more. You felt his bed dip down between your slightly spread legs as he puts one knee in the middle of them, the other on the outside of your right thigh. He fluidly began to undo your suit with his skillful fingers, making sure to purposefully not graze your skin with his touch. He was being a tease and you knew it.

Eventually, he slowly pulls the suit off of you and neatly folds it. You're in your underwear and bra now, and something ravenous flashes across his eyes as he studies your curves.

"Mesh'la." His says aloud, his eyes moving back to yours.

"Din. Please don't keep me waiting." Your yearning and desire for the Mandalorian in front of you grew stronger by the second. You wanted to feel him, taste him, hear him... you wanted to be one with him.

"Never, sweetheart." He climbs over you once more before reaching behind you, taking off your bra before tossing it across the room.

You emit a small laugh at his actions, and his head appears right above yours once more.

"I could listen to that sound forever, cyar'ika." He cups your face as he kisses you gently, trailing his plush, velvety lips down to your jaw, neck, sternum, and stops to hover over one of your breasts.

"Can I?" His voice is soft, almost loving. You nod without hesitation, and he moves his mouth down to feel your soft flesh with his tongue. You sharply inhale at the sensation, a pool of arousal coating your underwear.

As if on cue, Din skates a hand over your torso before tracing the band of your underwear. He releases you from his mouth before looking up at you, eyes asking for permission.

"Yes," You whisper desperately, "You can do whatever you'd like to, Din. My body is yours. For your pleasure."

His heart skipped a beat at your words, feeling his erection becoming painfully tight in his own flight suit. He kept his eyes locked on your face when his hand dipped into the front of your underwear.

You were absolutely soaked for him, and he loved it. He ran his middle finger through your slick folds, eliciting a moan from you. He decided then and there that that sound you made for him was his second favorite. His first favorite is your laugh.

"Gedet'ye." You rasped, and Din's breathing came to a halt.

"You know Mando'a?" His eyes searched yours, and your eyebrows threaded together as you gave him a small smile.

"Elek," Your hand moves up to his hair, "Only a little." As if he couldn't find any more reasons to want to cherish you until the galaxy's end, you just gave him another.

"You never cease to amaze me, cyar'ika." He moves his finger down, teasing your entrance.

You instinctively grab on to his still-clothed bicep, relishing in his touch. He slowly enters his finger into you, and you whimper at the stretch. Not even two of your fingers could reach the length he could, let alone offer the same sensation just his one could.

He starts to pump his finger slowly, drawing sweet moans from your mouth. You pull him down to kiss you, and his tongue is ravenous with yours, both feeling needier with every second that passes.

You couldn't help but grind your hips into his finger, prompting him to slip in a second one.

He stops the languid pace of his fingers, only to unexpectedly nearly tear your underwear off your body. He wanted to taste every part of you.

He was now eye-level with your core, moaning at the sight.

"So pretty, baby, and all for me." He groans to you before delving his tongue into your slick folds, working at a delicious pace. The only sounds that could be heard were the trees rustling in the breeze, his tongue working against you, and your sweet moans.

"Fuck, Din, please don't stop." You're a panting mess by this point, his tongue stimulating you just right.

"Never, cyar'ika." He moans against you, closing his eyes to savor the taste of you. He could quite literally do this all day, if you'd let him.

You could feel the tension coiling in your core. Both of your hands found his hair as you shoved his face into your pussy even further, if that was even possible. His strong nose moved against your clit as his tongue moved up and down, the sensation of stimulation becoming almost unbearable.

He felt you stiffen underneath him as you had a near-death grip on his beautiful locks, silently warning him you were close.

You felt the hot sensation flood your body, your orgasm ripping through you as you moaned loudly, his name rolling off of your tongue multiple times. He lapped away slowly, cleaning your orgasm up with his tongue. It sent shivers down your spine as you were trying to catch your breath.

"So sweet, my love." He praises you as he moves away. He stands up, his erection incredibly evident in his suit.

"Let me take care of you now, Din." Your eyes shift from the tension in his pants back up to his face.

"Next time, baby." He smiles down at you as he quickly finishes removing his suit, leaving him in just his underwear. His body was so beautiful. Tan skin with rippling muscles in his arms and a softer yet sturdy core. Even his legs were a sight to behold. He was so breathtaking.

He moves back on top of you and molds his lips to yours once more, soft and slow.

Your hands rested themselves on his chest, and you wanted to melt. You never thought you’d get to see him like this—feel him like this. The thought that he was comfortable around you and trusted you wholly with not only his identity, but allowing himself to be vulnerable around you, made you nearly want to cry.

He reserved himself like this just for you.

Your hands found themselves moving down as you palmed him through his underwear, eliciting a strangled moan from him into your mouth.

“Can I?” It was your turn to ask, as you tugged at the waistband of the clothing that covered the part of him you so desperately craved inside of you.

He looked down at you, lips parted and hair a mess. He offered a small smile before nodding, and you tugged his underwear down his legs slowly. Once you couldn’t reach down anymore, he moved them down the rest of the way until they were off his legs completely.

Your heart was nearly pounding out of your chest. A part of you wanted to look down at him and his manhood, take him all in in all of his glory, but you were so nervous that you started to tremble. Your mouth went dry and your focus was nonexistent.

You looked up at him, sinking your teeth into the corner of your bottom lip.

“We don’t have to do this.” Din noticed your trembling body and apprehension.

“It’s not that– it’s just, I haven’t been with someone in a long time. I never thought I’d get to be with you like this. It’s… a lot to take in.” You said.

“What do you mean? I’ve wanted you since the day I laid my eyes on you. You’re all I could think about. Especially since you were willing to lay down your life and sacrifice yourself to save my son. You’re everything to me, cyar’ika.”

Din’s confession had hot tears welling in your eyes. You weren’t much of a crier but the fact that this man confessed his raw, unfiltered feelings to you had your head spinning.

He’d never been so vulnerable with anyone in his life, and truth be told, it scared the hell out of him. But, of all people, he knew that you were the one he’d want to be vulnerable with.

“Oh, Din.” You whisper to him before bringing him down to kiss you slowly once more. The kiss you two shared this time seemed to have much more meaning to it than the previous ones— not that they didn’t have meaning, but this one was like branding his confession to you.

His hand moved down to his erection as he broke his lips apart from yours, brown eyes searching yours for any sign that wanted him to stop. There clearly were none, so he took it upon himself to line himself up with your entrance, slowly pushing into you.

You gasped and shut your eyes tightly, the stinging sensation between your thighs all too present.

“Are you okay?” His voice is gentle as he cups your face, thumb caressing your cheek.

You nod reassuringly, “Keep going.”

And so he did, pushing himself into you slowly until he bottomed out. The stretch was something painful, but it was the kind of pain that kept you craving more.

His eyes met yours as he took in your expression, making sure you were okay. You felt so good wrapped around him that he nearly lost his mind. You were so intoxicating, and he wanted every ounce of you.

“Can I move?” He asked. Again, you nod your head.

He slowly moved his hips away from yours only to come right back, reaching the hilt every single time. His pace was gentle and slow, as if he were afraid if he moved any faster, he’d hurt you.

It was only then that you realized this wasn’t just a quick fuck— he was making love to you.

You wrapped your legs around his bare waist; arms around the back of his neck. You tangled your nimble fingers into his hair, tugging softly.

Your eyes sparkled for him and only him, and that made him a weak man—only for you.

Only for you would he ever take his helmet off comfortably for. Only for you would he want to be incredibly vulnerable with his emotions. Only for you would he ever want to touch like this; to make love like this. Only for you would he want to wed you and have you join his clan of two, officially making it three.

“Din,” Your whimper was soft, eyebrows threaded together as he picked up his pace ever so slightly.

He didn’t want to be rough with you. Not for tonight, at least. He wanted to genuinely show you how beautiful you were to him, and how he wanted to cherish you forever and many more lifetimes after this one.

He simply couldn’t deny the fact: he was in love with you. He hoped you felt the same way about him, too.

He gently took hold of your wrists and moved them above your head, his hands sliding into yours as he intertwined them and held them above you. He dipped his head down to kiss you as passionately as he could, keeping the steady pace of his hips.

It felt like hours that you two were moving like this, but in reality, it had to’ve been no more than ten minutes. He kept whispering sweet things against your lips that had you feeling like putty underneath his strong body. You were his, and he was yours, there was no question about it.

You felt the same hot coiling sensation deep in your core once more, burning slowly this time. You knew you’d reach your high eventually, but for now, you wanted to savor the feeling of Din’s body pressed against yours, slight sheen of sweat coating both of your bodies, connecting in the most intimate way.

It wasn’t until a few minutes later that his pace picked up a little more, indicating he was searching for release. His movements had you a moaning mess beneath him, hips rolling to meet his movements. His hands moved from yours and cradled the back of your head, kissing you with such fervor.

“Please, cyar’ika– p-please, be mine. Be mine forever.” He begged you, the sureness and desperation in his voice enough to send you over the edge.

“Elek, Din, ratiin.” You moaned as you felt that same tight coil snap, pulsating around Din as your body shook with pure pleasure. He followed suit, groaning your name as he buried his face into your shoulder, his hips snapping against yours erratically as he spilled into you.

He slumped down, putting some weight on top of you as you both tried to catch your breaths. He slipped out of you after a couple of minutes, and you wanted to whine at the loss of contact. He felt so perfect being with you like that. It was like a missing piece to a puzzle.

He pulled you in closely, kissing the top of your head as you nuzzled comfortably into his chest. His messy hair clung to his sweat-ridden forehead, beautiful brown eyes glossed over with pure happiness.

This is everything he ever wanted, but never expected to get. Settling down in Nevarro with his son, and presumably the love of his life, was something that pulled on his heart strings. He was just so happy to finally live a peaceful life, especially one that involved you in it.

He’d found you fallen asleep in his arms after awhile as he traced light circles up and down your arm that rested on his chest, right where his beating heart was.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.” He confessed.

Had you been awake, you would’ve told him the same exact thing, reassuring him that what you two had was written in all the stars the galaxy held, and that he was your brown eyes—

for eternity.

Mando’a translations:

- mesh’la: beautiful

- cyar’ika: darling, beloved, sweetheart

- gedet’ye: please

- elek: yes

- ratiin: always

- ni kar'tayl gar darasuum: I love you

#the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian one shot #the mandalorian imagines #the mandalorian imagine #din djarin imagine #din djarin smut #din djarin one shot #the mandalorian spoilers #din djarin fluff #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal one shot

328 notes · View notes

moonmeg · 10 months

Text

!!TW for panel 3-5// Blood

Seeing him unharmed and alive in his crib was the greatest relief. He was crying but he was alive. With a soft shush she picked the babe from the crib and cradled him in her arms.

"It's alright, little sprout, it's all perfectly fine. Mama's here.", she tried to calm him with a small rocking motion. Her eyes were fully fixated on his little chubby face and the big round tears running down his pink cheeks. It was still a bit surreal to think this was her baby. Her baby that she had carried beneath her heart for almost nine months. Cat started walking around the room while continuing her attempt to calm him. By now she had figured out how to tell his cries apart. His current cry wasn't of hunger, nor did he have an unpleasant smell about him.

"Did you have a bad dream, my love?", she asked and gently wiped the tears off his face, "Me too...". Robyn wasn't a talker just yet, but he was a great listener. While Cat had many great advisors and comforters around her, whenever she started to speak with Robyn, she realized that sometimes all it needs is someone who simply listens. Of course, she knew he doesn't understand her and that he won't remember any of what she's telling him but the idea that he did was nice enough for her to continue talking to him. So she began fighting against Robyn's cries by retelling him her own dream.

"I dreamed about your Papa. He was here and he looked so proud and full of love as he looked at you. We were all together, just as intended. We were happy.", she smiled at the image in her head. How he was standing next to her before the self-made crib he had spent months on. His hand's firm grip on her upper arm as he pulled her closer to him. His warm brown eyes carrying the love he feels for her in just one look. His proud smile towards his son, his soft touch on her cheek and chin. It all felt so real. Cat couldn't help the tear she shed upon the repeating realization that this image will never be a reality. He was gone. No matter how much in denial she wanted to be or was about it.

Caleb was gone.

"Then he appeared.", she put emphasis on "he". Cathy didn't want to speak his name, nor did she want Robyn to ever hear that name. She would rather have that name and the person it was given to be forgotten. That was his biggest concern, wasn't it? He wanted to be remembered as great witch hunter and as savior to humanity. He wanted his name in history books and an everlasting legacy. She figured, she would not give him that.

She knows she can't shut away the story attached to that person. Sooner or later Robyn would ask what had happened to his father and she wasn't planning on lying to him. But if Robyn never hears the name, even if he retells the story of Caleb's fate to friends or perhaps even his own children some day, the name would never be mentioned and slowly be forgotten. It would be "the person" and not "Philip".

Cat paused, thinking of how to continue the telling. The images flashing her mind threw her right back to that terrible day. Right back to the horrifying sight of her beloved Caleb lying in a growing puddle of blood on the floor, clenching his side, coughing...

She had tried her best to push those memories back and instead replace them with happy memories of him. It was too painful a sight to revisit again and again but she wasn't able to push it away fully.

His blood-dyed shirt, the blood strains on his chin and his arm, the pain and sadness in his eyes, the last of his strength he put into a final kiss before he exhaled one last time and lost the life in his body... she was there. She held him through it all.

She feared those moments would now be her steady company in life. They would always return and reopen the wound and she couldn't escape it.

Catherine looked back to her little son, still very much crying, as she decided to not go into detail about what exactly her subconsciousness tortured her with. Both, because it wasn't fit to tell your month old baby and because she could hardly bear saying the required words.

"I'll spare us both of telling what he did. But he did something horrible. And then...he said something so cruel about you.", she brushed her index finger over Robyn's cheek as if he knew what cruelty was said and she wanted to comfort him.

Robyn's cries lost volume but they weren't gone. He noticed he was no longer alone in the crib but that he was held by someone and he noticed quickly it was his mother so close to him. He knew her scent and he recognized her voice. Sometimes that's all he needed to calm down again: mama.

Said mama stared at him in adoration. She loved her little sprout ever since the healers told her she was pregnant. He has grown so much in just eight months and he still was. She was in awe every time anew. That's her son. Her little boy, who surely would grow into a fine young man... much like his late father. Catherine saw the world in this little life and she was proud to call herself his mother.

"He's just so wrong about you. He said you were never supposed to exist...", her brows furrowed in confusion. If Robyn was never supposed to exist, clearly he wouldn't be here now and clearly, Caleb and her would've never been able to conceive him in the first place. If, by Philip's logic, this child was the aftermath of a so-called "sin", if not a "sin" himself, surely that almighty person Caleb and his brother believed in would've not allowed Robyn to exist. She barely understood any of that topic and yet still even regarding that human belief, everything speaks *for* her baby's existence, not against it.

Robyn made a noise, striking his fist in the air as if in protest of the statement. His cries having ceased under Cathy's rocking-while-walking.

"Yeah.", Cat chuckled and validated Robyn's reply, "He's absolutely wrong.".

She paused for a moment to take the blanket from the crib and wrap him up in it. He was calm now again and it wouldn't take long before he dozed off again. So she hoped at least. Once wrapped up, she adjusted him and placed him over her chest, his head in the crook of her neck, where she was shielding it with her hand.

"You're a gift. The most amazing, wonderful, beautiful gift. And we love you more than anything else. Your father and me.", Cat smiled and turned her head to kiss his crown. She kept her lips pressed to his forehead as the clear night sky caught her attention for a while.

"I wonder what traits of yours he picked up, sweetheart.", she pulled her head back to examine her baby's face once again. There wasn't much of Caleb in Robyn's face but that's to blame on Robyn being a baby still. Of course his facial features are to grow over the years and he wouldn't have a sharp angular jaw as infant but so far Robyn has picked up more from his mother than his father.

"Maybe his hair will stay this light? Maybe his eyes are a warm brown? Or maybe it's something completely different?"

She would welcome any resemblance to her lost love and she would lie if she denied the fact she wished he looked more like Caleb sometimes rather than her when Robyn's older. She'd have her beloved's face back. She'd have his blond locks back. She'd have his beautiful brown eyes back. She'd have him back at least somehow.

Then she noticed Robyn's pointy ears - a trait definitely from her - and further spun the thoughts.

Robyn could grow into her long face and pointy chin. His dirty blond could grow into the brown of her's over the years. He could have her piercing teal eyes. He could be the spitting image of her just as much as he could be of that of Caleb.

"Maybe he barely looks like you when he's older...", she frowned upon the conclusion.

Turning away from the window, she drew a circle in the air and the curtains closed. She got back into bed, holding her infant son tightly as she still lightly rocked him back and forth. She kissed his head again. Whichever traits he picked up from Caleb and whichever from her, in the end her baby was beautiful and perfect just the way he is. He was a gift. Caleb's most precious gift. One she will protect from harm with her life. Her little sprout. Her little Robyn.

#tw: blood #tdaac #tdaac moonmeg #toh #the owl house #catherine clawthorne #catherine megpeggs #evelyn clawthorne #caleb wittebane #caleb clawthorne #robyn clawthorne #philip wittebane #toh fanart #the owl house fanart #toh oc #toh fancomic #the owl house fancomic

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lovelettersforthedamned · 6 months

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thinking about riduur!din…

din is big into touch, even in public.

he’s always within an arm's reach when you’re out and about. Some of that is due to his overwhelming sense of protectiveness when it comes to you, but another aspect of it is because he loves it when people see him with you.

you were always so kind to the residents of Nevarro, always going out of your way to help others, and din loved that about you. having people know that he was yours and you were his was an honor to him. he took pride in being your riduur.

while din was away on hunts off-world, you remain within the home you’ve made together.

you used to join him while you two were just friends. his adventures became a team effort.

now as you’ve grown physically and mentally, you remain at home on Nevarro. his name has gained more traction within the galaxy, which meant more enemies looking for him, or even worse, you.

you don’t mind staying back, but you worry, of course. you know he can handle himself, but there’s always that inkling feeling when he exceeds the days he said the job would take.

learning mando’a and learning about his creed

even before you were wed, you dabbled in learning a bit of mando’a; wanting to connect with din on another level.

along with the language, learning about the history of his creed and the culture was extremely important to you.

it made din’s heart soften everytime you asked him to talk more about the creed.

din without his helmet

the first time he removed his helmet in front of you, it was before he was allowed to.

when you two would go out on hunts together, din found himself face to face with his biggest fear, losing you.

while exploring a cave in search of your next bounty, you fell into a deep body of water, your weapons weighing you down and pulling you further. din had no choice but to jump in after you, his own swimming skills barely strong enough to save you. reaching the surface, he ripped off his helmet to give you mouth to mouth, his creed being the last thing on his mind. he just needed to see your eyes open. you choked out the water that was residing in your lungs before looking up at din. you pushed yourself away from him, confused. you didn’t know who this man was until he said, “cyar’ika, it’s me.”

his voice made you pause, no way, you immediately shut your eyes, and covered them with your hand for extra precaution, “i didn’t see anything! i swear!”

you felt a hand reach for your wrist, pulling it down, “i know, i know…it’s alright (Y/N).”

you peered into his soft brown eyes, then trailed down to the arch of his nose, and finally came to his parted lips. the refraction of light from the water that almost killed you displayed a beautiful array of light onto his face, oh his face.

you couldn’t stop staring at him, and that scared him, until you asked, “can i kiss you, din?”

as he pulled you in, you realize that he was it for you.

--author's note: something sweet for you on this november night...also, how are we liking this format??? i think it's cute, but im biased because i. made. it. LOL. everyone welcome bookie bear din djarin into my masterlist, WOOOOO. keep supporting your writers by liking, commenting, reblogging!! my ask/inbox is OPEN, so send me some of your juicy ideas so i can make them come to life!! ok, ily bye<33.

#din djarin x reader #riduur!din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin fanfiction #fluff #din djarin x you #din djarin headcannon #star wars

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nikethestatue · 4 months

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A Match Baked In Heaven

Chapter X

Howlin’ For You

Today

Breasts.

Boobs.

Mammary Glands.

Jugs.

Boobies.

Tits.

Fiery Biscuits.

Melons.

Baps.

Milkers.

Tatas.

Snuggle Pups.

The ‘girls’

Whatever one called them, here they were. Staring Azriel Night in the face. He could’ve thought of a few more names for them: ‘naughty pillows’, ‘honkers’, ‘knockers’, ‘the rack’...and on and on and on.

This pair was nice as fuck. He couldn’t deny it.

The generously bosom-y blonde across from him was a beauty named Mor. And this Mor was a stunner. Big brown eyes, hair like molten gold, tits for days, childbearing hips, a nipped waist.

He’d arrived early, yet she was already here, at a posh, faceless bar in the City. She wanted to go somewhere flashier, but Azriel didn’t want any more of his photos splashed across Daily Mail under the headline ‘Another One for Footie’s Bad Boy?’ so he chose this spot. It was filled with nervous and overly intense finance blokes, with an uneven ratio of 78% dicks to 22% pussy in attendance. If he didn’t know better he’d think this was a gay bar, but it wasn’t. It was a bar where ‘deals were made’ and no one paid attention to him. He was wearing a suit and easily passed for another manic finance bloke.

Mor was on her third drink already, but she was holding her alcohol well, though Azriel suspected that might have a problem somewhere there. Currently he wasn’t training or playing due to his injury, but he still stuck with sparkling water as was his habit. Those big bazoongas shifted beneath her bright red dress and even a blind man would’ve felt the earth shift when she moved, but Azriel remained…uninterested.

Yes, in theory, she was tempting and attractive in every way. If this was three months ago, he probably would’ve been pounding her on the way back from the bar, giving Dev an eyeful. Wouldn’t have been the first time.

Alas, currently, not only did he not care about her tits whatsoever, he also kept thinking about the cool 20 Day Advent Calendar that he bought for Pinky, where there was a special treat behind every little daily slat. He was unhealthily excited about this Advent Calendar and kept imagining how excited Pink would be about it, and how he and Elain would open it daily to reveal treat-of-the-day.

No tits were as desirable as the happiness of his dog. Besides, the only tits that were interesting to him, the only tits he wanted to touch and squeeze, the only tits he wanted to lick and bite, were Elain’s. Soft, ample, squishy titties–the only tits worth his time and attention. Whatever Mor was laying down, he sure as hell wasn’t picking up. The only reason he was here anyway, was because his ornery girlfriend demanded it and he was humouring her. A little bar talk with this loud woman was a small price to pay for having Elain in his arms through the night, making her accept him, slowly, but surely fall for him, submit…Yeah, it was worth it, even if he didn’t want to be here.

Five Days Ago

“You aren’t even that ill!” Elain protested.

Azriel offered a loud and very fake cough to demonstrate that he was indeed quite ill.

“I beg to differ,” he argued. “Are you really going to send a star athlete all the way to Canary Wharf, in the beginning of December? While he is half-dead from fever and has a broken leg?”

“Oh, now the leg is broken too?” Elain crossed her arms on her chest, shaking her head, looking at him. The good thing was that Pinky decided to take Azriel’s side, and now he sat by his side, working hard at giving Elain the biggest puppy dog eyes in history.

“You two are emotional vampires!” she declared, getting up from the table.

“We are emotional puppies!” Azriel argued.

“You are a traitor,” Elain hissed at Piglet, who whimpered pathetically.

“I’ll wash the dishes,” Azriel offered sheepishly.

She rolled her eyes and told him firmly, “you aren’t sleeping with me”.

“Umm,”

“No, don’t even think about it.”

“Where am I sleeping then?”

“In the guest room,” she said primly,

“Aren’t you planning to sleep with your husband in the same bed?” he queried.

“Yes. But you aren’t my husband.”

“But I will be,” he reminded her.

“Dream on, football boy,” she puffed her cheeks, while Azriel gathered the plates and hobbled with them to the sink. And then, he proceeded to wash the dishes like a good boy. It was silly, because obviously she had a dishwasher, but Azriel wanted to show how he would be a great husband-material, and how much potential he had in that department.

Elain didn’t say anything, but quietly began putting things away after dinner. Pinky was laying there like a log, watching them closely, monitoring every move.

Azriel was almost done with the washing up, when he stepped aside and suddenly pulled Elain to him, wrapping his arm around her waist.

Her breath quickened, but she didn't struggle in his hold. He pressed her into the counter and held her within the cage of his arms.

Elain smelled delightful. A heady mix of jasmine, with light undertones of warm honey and vanilla. Her scent was exactly what she was in life–a flower-lover and a baker. It was a perfect mix of who she was.

Azriel inhaled her deeply and felt her shiver against him. He leaned in and pressed his forehead to hers, savouring the moment. It was quiet, other than some instrumental Christmas music playing on Elain’s phone. So it made sense when Elain’s arms tentatively wrapped around Azriel’s waist and she pulled him a little closer.

“Why are you like that, my matchy?” he whispered.

“How am I?”

“Skittish. Afraid. You shouldn’t be afraid of me. I would never hurt you.”

She sighed sadly and whispered, “Others have said the same, and did, in fact, hurt me.”

“I am not ‘others’. I am it. I knew that I was fucked once I started wondering what your lips would taste like, and I am still wondering about that. I’ve been many different things in my life, and not all of them any good, but with you, it’s different.

“You smell like home. You feel like a wife. You act like the mother of my children. There is nothing I can do about that.”

“You fell hard,” she murmured.

“Surprised me too,” he chuckled, “but here we are.”

She took his hand in hers and looked at his scarred skin, absently rubbing the mangled flesh with her thumb. At that, it was Azriel’s turn to squirm a bit. He didn’t like close attention being paid to his hands.

But, all she did was whisper ‘beautiful’ and Azriel didn’t know what to do with that. So he blushed. Because it wasn’t something he expected, and coming from her, he knew that it was the truth. She found his hands beautiful.

She then took him by the hand and gently pulled him behind her, sneaking from under his arm.

“Gonna put me to bed, beautiful?” he chuckled.

“Don’t push it,” she warned playfully.

They went upstairs, Azriel being on his best behaviour, careful not to spook her and have her send him back down to sleep on the couch.

Elain’s upstairs wasn’t any less luxurious and stylish than the downstairs. The landing had built-in bookshelves and a loveseat and apparently Pinky’s own swanky pad, with a vast doggy bed and various cushions upon which he could ‘relax’ (not that his life was very hard and required much relaxation). In addition, part of the built-ins contained all his outfits, his toys, and bows. He had more clothes than Kim K.

“You are here,” Elain opened the door to one of the bedrooms. It was modern, comfortable, like a world-class hotel room. But impersonal.

“There is an en-suite,” Elain waved her hand to another door.

“And where are you?” Azriel asked immediately.

She gave him a look, but said “at the end of the hall. Should you require anything, knock and let me know.”

Then, after a beat, she added, “And since you sleep in the nude, please don’t forget to cover yourself.”

Azriel smirked and gently cupped the side of her neck, drawing his thumb over the tender skin of her throat.

“So you remembered then?”

Primly, as if they were discussing cottage cheese, she said, “it’s my job. I pride myself in remembering what my clients tell me.”

“Ahhh,” he nodded slowly, with a knowing look on his face. “And for no other reason I am sure, yeah?”

“Exactly.”

“Alright then, Ms. Archeron,” he pressed his lips to her forehead and gave her a soft, loving kiss, “good night. And if I do need anything, I will remember to cover my massive cock,”

“Ahh,” she gasped and he laughed, giving her another quick kiss.

She pushed at him, pretending to be oh-so scandalised, but there was no fire in her protests.

“Stop kissing me!”

“That’s a hard no from me,” he shrugged. “I only intend to kiss you more.”

“Why are you like this?”

“What? Charming? Sexy? Smart?”

“Yeah, all of the above,” she snorted. “Don’t you ever take ‘no’ for an answer?”

“Not really,” he confessed. “Definitely not this time around.”

“Why not?” she asked quietly, looking straight at him.

He licked his lip and then stated simply,

“Because you are mine.”

Today

“Three million.”

Azriel was so lost in thought, especially recalling how that night five days ago went, that he didn’t catch anything that Mor was saying to him. Not until he heard ‘three million’.

“Pardon?” he finally asked.

“I think that’s a reasonable sum,” she decided, flipping her hair behind her shoulder.

“For what?”

“Us!”

“Us? Us what?” his brow furrowed and he had no idea what she was referring to.

“That’s the exchange,” she pushed, leaning across the table towards him, and letting her boobs slide forward, the material of her dress barely containing them. Gosh, she was trying hard.

“Miss Hewn, lay it all out,” he all but snapped at her. “What do you want?”

“It’s what you want,” she corrected him and brought her martini glass to her bright red lips. An espresso martini, no less. What a revolting 80s drink that no self-respecting person would ever touch. But Azriel chose to keep his opinion to himself. Mor wasn’t Elain. He could tease Elain. She’d answer, she’d taunt him back. It would be wonderful. But he didn’t need to worry about Elain–she was a whiskey and lager and gin girl. Proper drinks. Classic. None of this frou-frou nonsense. He had no opinion on Mor because he didn’t give a shit.

“What am I exchanging for three mil?” he queried, crossing his arms on his chest and leaning back in his chair.

She mimicked his posture, and said in a firm, bland tone,

“A little birdy told me that if you don’t marry by the time you are thirty, you lose your chance at your inheritance…and I hear it’s over 200 mil. Lord Darling is worth what? About two billion? 10% of his wealth goes to his two adopted sons–you and your brother Cassian. Am I not correct?”

“You are alarmingly well-informed about Lord Darling’s finances,”

She shrugged and said with false innocence in her voice, “all public knowledge, Azriel. And I am a girl who does her research.”

Another one.

Another girl who was doing her due diligence. But unlike Elain, whose intentions were honourable and even a little naive, Mor seemed much more predatory. Her big eyes gleamed with excitement.

“So, if I am understanding you correctly,” Azriel sipped his sparkling water, wondering how long he had to stay here for, “you want me to pay you three million pounds,”

“Correct,” she nodded.

“For what exactly?”

“To marry you, of course, silly!” she smiled at him and winked.

“Oh…”

“Two years? Three?” she shrugged irreverently and finished her gross martini, while immediately motioning to the waiter for another drink.

The balls on her were…impressive.

If Azriel wasn’t so internally disgusted, he would’ve been awed.

But he was mostly grossed out.

“We marry, we stay together for a couple of years,” Mor continued easily. “I get my three million. You get your 200 million and then we part amicably. What do Americans call it? Irreconcilable differences. We wouldn’t be able to reconcile our differences too. I’ll even sign a prenup, and won’t ask for any spousal support or any bit of your money,”

“Generous of you,” he said dryly. “So this has been the plan from the beginning, I am guessing?

She shrugged innocently.

“I go where the money is.”

“Let me guess,” he interrupted. “You know all about how much I make too?”

Her red-tipped fingers gently caressed his hand, but in a condescending sort of way, like she was taming a wild animal.

“Of course I do, darling,” she smiled at him. “Of course, I do. 115 million contract with Arsenal over 5 years. Multiple multi-million pound endorsement contracts with big name companies–Adidas, Apple, Bank of England come to mind. Oh, Smart Water. Oh, oh,” she snapped her fingers, “a deal with that shaving company…You looked good in those adverts. All damp and half-naked, water dripping off of you,”

Azriel barely managed not to roll his eyes.

“How did you get through Elain’s rigorous screening?” he interrupted her litany, speaking frankly and not giving a fuck. He was past being Mr. Nice Guy or even Mr. Pretend to Be a Nice Guy for the Evening. He was going to be the dickhead that he usually was.

Mor laughed lightly and accepted another weird concoction from the waiter–a Lemon Drop, apparently. What was with this woman and her 80s drinks? They weren’t even classics. Just gaudy.

“Ohhh,” Mor did a sing-song thing with her voice. “Elain…Lady Elain Archeron, the 7th Marchioness of Londonfair, sister to Nesta, the Duchess of Velaris and to Countess Feyre Archeron.

“See, Azriel, I do my research on everyone. Did you know that the Duke of Velaris petitioned Queen Victoria some time around 1894 to have all the females in his family receive titles. Just the females, the same way the males would. And the titles are passed on to women in that family. Interestingly, the old Queen wasn’t exactly a feminist. In fact, she was sternly opposed to feminism and felt that women should obey and serve their men. Wonder what the Duke had to do to convince her? But whatever he did, apparently worked.

“The sisters’ mother was the Duchess of Velaris. Nesta was the Marchioness. Elain, a Countess. Feyre, a Viscountess. Once the mother died, the titles shifted to each respective sister. Interesting, isn’t it?

“You know how much they are worth?”

“No,” Azriel snapped. “I don’t, and I don’t care.”

“Pity. It is curious that Lady Elain has this strange profession. Very odd, don’t you think? A matchmaker.”

“She wants to bring happiness to others,” he said. “Love.”

Mor scoffed,

“Love. Yes, love. It’s adorable that you bought into her fantasy.”

“Her track record is impeccable,” he argued roughly.

“Oh,” Mor waved her hand, “I am not arguing, I know she is good at what she does. Poor lonely souls flock to her in hopes for their happily ever after.”

“And you didn’t?” he challenged. Dark, angry, cold rage was rising up in his chest, threatening to suffocate him. His own personal feelings aside, Elain was good. She believed in what she did. She was kind and thoughtful and careful with the feelings of others. She did want people to find their partners, and their happily ever after. Of that, he had no doubt. Therefore, anyone taking advantage of her sincerity and her beliefs made him see red.

“I did flock too,” Mor confirmed, almost chugging her Lemon Drop in one go and motioning for the waiter yet again. Jesus fuck. “Just not for love,” she continued. “It wasn’t exactly difficult to build up a story that Elain wanted to hear. My very unsuccessful first engagement, then a string of men who didn’t turn into anything serious, disappointments and my ‘yearning for love’,” she made air quotes. “The poor silly cow fell for it just like that,” she snapped her fingers.

At that, Azriel flinched, but Mor didn’t notice it. Instead, she ordered ‘Sex On the Beach’ and he almost died of embarrassment. When the kids on the team told him that they ‘died of cringe’ he now understood what they meant.

“If you know where to look, you’d find out that Lady Elain abruptly ended her engagement to Lord Nolan a few years back. I figured that he stepped out on her, and it turns out that I was correct. So I played that up to her, telling her that my fiance did the same. She was so easy,” Mor sighed dramatically. “I mean, what was I expecting? This is a woman who dotes on her lame legless pug and,”

“Pardon,” Azriel stood up abruptly and muttered, “I need to go to the loo,”

“Oh, alright then,” Mor nodded. “When you come back, we’ll discuss the details of the arrangement.”

Apparently, in her mind, everything’s been settled already.

Azriel left his jacket hanging on the back of his chair, but he figured it would be a small price to pay to escape. He veered off the path to the toilets and passed by the long, glass-covered bar, where he spotted Dev, who was sipping mineral water. Azriel motioned his head to the driver, and Dev got up promptly, his expression perplexed. His eyes darted from Azriel to Mor’s golden-haired head which loomed over the table.

Azriel came over and grabbed his driver’s arm, quickly ushering him towards the exit.

“Are you doing a runner?” Dev guessed, grinning at the panicked looking Azriel.

“Sure am!”

“Wait, so you pumped and dumped,”

“No pumping,” Azriel quickly, shuddering visibly, “only dumping.”

“You really gonna ghost her like that?”

“Honestly, it’s not my proudest moment, but I am afraid she is going to charge me for leaving. A tenner at least.”

Dev chuckled, and nodded towards Azriel’s lack of jacket,

“You’ll freeze your bollocks off,”

“Small price to pay to escape Miss Golden Arm over there. She really started the conversation with ‘you pay me three million and then I will marry you’.”

“Shit. For real?”

“Sure am. She is a thirsty one. Not for cock, but for a buck.”

Dev laughed and said, “Alright then, mate, let’s go. I’ll save you.”

Azriel tossed two hundred pounds to the barman and said, “For the lady’s drinks,” he pointed towards Mor. “And make sure she doesn’t drive. She’s had one, or ten, too many.”

By the time he slipped out of the bar, took the lift downstairs and came outside, to the frigid night, Dev was pulling the car around the corner.

Azriel all but collapsed into the warm cabin and rubbed his hands.

“Told you you’ll freeze,” Dev told him.

“What did you want me to do exactly?”

“Never seen you walk away like that from a woman before,” Dev commented, while he pulled away from the curb.

“Ehhh,” Azriel looked out the window, watching the sleek streets decorated for Christmas. “I wasn’t into it.”

“Uh-uh,” Dev only muttered, with a knowing look on his face. “Where to then? Canary Wharf or Russell Square?”

Azriel shot him a glance in the mirror, and Dev continued lightly, “I wasn’t planning on being done with the evening by,” he glanced at the clock, “7:08 pm. But here we are. So, where are we going? Home? Or where you wanna be?”

“What do you mean?” Azriel demanded.

The driver huffed and snickered.

“Come on, Az. I’ve known you for 20 years. Known you since we were lads.”

“So?”

“Seen you with all kinds of birds, and here we are tonight, and I am watching you walk away from Miss Busty without a second thought. And I can see you itching to go back to that posh neighbourhood and see your posh lass and her mega posh pug. Tell me I am wrong?”

Azriel rubbed his chin and looked back at the window.

“Russell Square,” was all he said.

Dev smiled widely.

“On my fucking way, lad.”

Because yes, Azriel wanted to be with his woman. And wanted a repeat of the night from five days ago.

Five Days Ago

Five nights ago, Azriel did not keep true to his word.

Well, technically, he didn’t promise to stay in his room. He didn’t promise to stop kissing Elain. He didn’t promise anything, other than to cover his cock if he went to her room. And he did.

He covered his cock.

He wore his boxers, to be precise.

He settled for the night–or at least for the immediate couple of hours–but as soon as the door closed, he heard scratching and banging, growling and barking.

“Piglet no!” came Elain’s urgent pleas. “Az is going to sleep. So should you. Go to your bed. Right now!”

Instead, there was snapping and more growling.

“Piglet, no. You had chicken and rice, you took a nice walk, you played with Az, and it’s time to call it a night. Go to bed.”

There was a pause, and then more aggressive banging on the door, which Azriel hoped wasn’t Pinky ramming his head into it.

“I swear to god, Piglet Pinky Archeron,” Elain exclaimed sternly and Azriel just about fell off the bed, at the sound of the middle name,

Piglet Pinky Archeron Night. Thank you very much.

“I am going to take you to the vet!”

A shocked, horrified whimper was the answer.

That was a hella threat then.

And then Piglet started crying and Azriel couldn't take it anymore. He got out of bed and threw the door open. With that, Piglet in turn threw himself in his arms like the floor was lava. Azriel wrapped his arms around him and whispered, “It’s okay, my boy. It’s okay. I am not going to send you to the vet,” he glanced at Elain, meaning to give her the stink eye, and only to notice her shocked expression.

Oh yeah…he was naked, other than for his underwear.

“Ummm,” she mumbled…”I…well, I…if he…you know he is quite loud if you want him to sleep in the room,” she rambled on, as her eyes darted here and then, trying to avoid the sight of his naked flesh.

That’s right, sweetheart. Keep looking.

“I am dressed,” Azriel pointed out with a smirk.

“I…I,” she huffed, swiping her hand over her brow, “I wouldn’t call this ‘dressed’ Mr. Azriel…”

“Mr. Azriel?” Azriel teased. “What happened to Mr. Night?”

“Yes, yes, of course. Mr. Night!” Elain nodded frantically, “that’s what I meant, of course. Naturally. Mr. Azriel.”

He kept staring at her, smiling, while she muttered, “Mr. Night!”

Then he shrugged and told her, “I rather like hearing my name on your lips, beautiful. ‘Azriel’ me all you want. Come on in then,” he jerked his head, inviting her in.

“Come where?” she baulked.

“To my comfy bed, obviously,” he explained like she was a bit stupid. “It’s only nine o'clock. According to the Daily Mail I am a ‘debauched footballer’--so what the fuck am I doing in bed at this hour? It’s fine for Pink, but you and I can spend some quality time together,”

“I couldn’t possibly,” she kept muttering, while he grabbed her hand and tugged her along.

“Don’t worry little virgin,” he assured her, “I’ll leave your virtue intact, if that’s what you’d like,”

“I am not a virgin!” she hissed at him and he laughed and then the three of them piled onto the bed, under his significant bulk and strength.

But first things first…

He got her in bed with him, which was a massive accomplishment. Took two months, but here they were. Now, he needed a minute to wrap his mind around the fact that Elain Archeron, his Elain, was in bed with him. Thankfully, Pinky offered him that opportunity, when he jumped off the bed, screamed excitedly, and then began running frantic circles around the room.

Watching the pug’s antics, Elain laughed and whispered, “major case of the zoomies.”

“For the laziest dog, he sure does pack a lot of energy,” Azriel commented, carefully arranging himself next to her, trying to be inconspicuous, like this was normal for them.

Nothing was normal.

None of this was normal.

Even the fact that Elain was barefoot, and he was seeing her pretty toes for the first time, had Azriel spiralling internally. She was usually formally dressed, and when he did catch her in casual attire, it was strange enough. But Elain barefoot? Her toenails were painted a light pearl colour and he couldn’t stop staring at them. He couldn’t stop staring at the difference in their sizes: at how much bigger he was than her. He was a big man, but her little pale feet seemed almost childish next to his large, beat up, calloused ones. His muscular legs reached almost to the edge of the bed, and he looked rough and wild compared to her, his skin a deep golden brown, tattoos peppering his body here and there, all the sinewy tight muscles bulging and shifting beneath his bruised, scarred, scratched skin. She was soft and creamy, pale and resembled a marshmallow or a cream puff. He resembled a gnarly log.

He extended his arm and Elain naturally leaned into the crook, laying her head on his shoulder.

She wore grey pyjama pants with pugs on them (obviously), and a red Arsenal t-shirt, with Azriel’s own number. Like a proper girlfriend should. Though it made his chest warm and everything inside of him squeezed with strange wormy happiness, because this wasn’t the jersey that he gave her. This was a different shirt, which she clearly bought for herself, and now wore to bed.

There was nothing sexy or alluring about her mismatched night outfit, but to Azriel, it was somehow perfect. Undoubtedly, the ensemble that she had on earlier–the shorts, the knee highs, and the jumper–was Pinterest-worthy in its enticing sexiness, and nothing beat half of her ass falling out of those shorts.

But this was good. Like it should be.

He rested his chin atop of her head and then she reached across him and tugged a blanket on top of his body.

“You’ll grow cold and will never get better,” she complained.

“Is my naked body messing with your little ladyship sensibilities?” he teased. “What’s it like with Lord Eris? Brace yourself, Sally, and think of England?”

“I hate you so much,” she said flatly, shaking her head with disdain.

“No, matchy. You like me,” he said assertively.

She tensed a little against him, but he only stroked her shoulder lightly, keeping her in place.

Piglet finally tired out from his zooming and attempted to climb back on the bed, but he couldn’t reach that high up, so he began whimpering frantically, now wanting as much attention as possible and fearing that he was missing out.

Azriell scooped him up with his available hand and placed him at his side.

“You can stay here, but you are not Beyonce, so no one will be entertaining you. Calm down and go to sleep. It’s me and Ellie time.”

Piglet pouted at him, but then burrowed himself in the blanket and quieted down.

“Try to keep the farting to a minimum,” Azriel warned, but Piglet only snorted at him.

Azriel draped the rest of the blanket over Elain, and then boldly grabbed her hip and hoisted her leg up and over his own.

There was a moment there, where they just looked at each other, their bodies connected, the intimacy of the moment almost stifling.

It was then that Elain asked,

“What do you want, Azriel? From me?”

He looked at her, studying the lovely contours of her face, and after a long pause, said,

“I want everything from you. I want you in the worst way. I need your taste. Your scent. I want to know what your skin would feel next to mine. I want to crawl so deep inside of you, that you won’t be able to extricate yourself from me ever. Not ever. Not with a spoon. Not with an axe. Not with a prayer. Not with a saw. And I want it all tonight. I want it every minute of the day. And I know that I can’t have it. So I yearn and desire, and I suffer, because I cannot have it. I cannot have you.”

“It’s a violent image,” she whispered at last, watching him in awe. “Your love is possessive, and nearly scary.”

“Nearly,” he agreed, “but not quite. I simply didn’t know that I could feel this way about anything. About anyone.”

“Are you going to start spouting poetry?” she smiled and lightly traced her finger over his jaw.

“I usually don’t need to resort to that,” he chuckled. “But if you’d like me to give you a little speech about how you’d bewitched me, body and soul, I could do that.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve read Pride and Prejudice!” she gasped in shock.

Azriel laughed quietly, “Fuck no! But I’ve seen enough gifs from the movie to remember that line.”

“I love that movie,” Elain admitted dreamily.

“Absolutely no surprise there,” Azriel concluded.

He then pulled her closer and slipped his arm lower, so he could cup her lovely ass, and when he did, she didn’t even fight him. That’s my girl, he thought.

“What should I get Pinky for Christmas?” he pondered, as he glanced at the sleeping pug.

“I don’t think that he cares all that much,” Elain admitted, while her little finger kept making circles on his skin, travelling from his neck, down to his shoulder and chest, as she traced the lines of his tattoos.

“Come on, of course he does! I do too. What should I get him?”

“Well,” she thought, “the things he likes the most are: empty Amazon envelopes, the padded ones. Socks. You can get him an old shoe. A stick, of course. He likes a good stick. Any kind of hose that he can tear up–pantyhose are his fave. An empty box. And of course the thing that he loves the most in the world is,” then her voice dropped to a whisper and she said into Azriel’s ear, her voice barely audible, “meatloaf.”

Even though Elain was whispering, the magical word still caused Piglet to stir sleepily. He waited for a moment, before falling back asleep.

“See?”

“Wow, he really must love it,” Azriel barely contained himself, stifling his laughter. “I guess I know what we are having for Christmas!”

The next hour and a half were spent in blissful warmth. Azriel took out his phone, and they proceeded to watch a bunch of comedians on Netflix. They laughed at the same jokes, and Azriel found it endearing.

“I think we need to get a tree,” Azriel decided at some point. “I would’ve thought that you’d be completely Christmas-obsessed and everything would be covered in Christmas spirit. Kind of like in ‘Elf’.”

Elain sighed and frowned.

“What?” he pushed, stroking her head.

“I didn’t feel like it this year, I guess,” she said lamely.

“Why?”

“I dunno…”

“Come on. Tell me.”

“I am not feeling festive, I suppose.”

The vague admission didn’t sit right with him and he turned her face up, so he could look at her.

“What happened?”

She bit her lip and sighed,

“I don’t know…I guess I didn’t see myself in this place, under these circumstances, at this stage of my life,”

“What circumstances?”

“Single, I suppose,” she sighed again. “I figured that by 28, I’d be married, maybe even with children. For sure with someone significant in my life. Now I'll be 28 in less than two weeks, and I guess I just broke up with my long-term boyfriend? I am not even certain where we stand with him. And then there is you, and you are all kinds of confusing,”

“I am not confusing,” he argued. “I am your boyfriend. I don’t really care that you can’t bring yourself to acknowledge this yet, but I am. You ain’t single. You are mine. And if you want me to put a ring on your finger on your birthday, I will, if it will make you happy,”

Elain elbowed him harshly and snapped, “Stop talking like that! We barely know each other! We,”

“We know each other plenty. What don’t I know about you and you don’t know about me? Short of an anal probe, you’ve asked me every question imaginable. You know what I like to eat, where I grew up, how I fuck, what I wear, where I live, and I know that you love your pug, and your sisters, and that sometimes you are lonely, and that you love watching couples that you set up end up married and happy, and you’ve been hurt in love, and you love apple crisps and are sweetly rough around the edges despite being a Lady.”

“I don’t know how you…fuck,” she cleared her throat.

“I can certainly show you that right now,” he offered. “I’ve been ready to fuck you since you’ve been eyeing my happy trail the day we decorated for Halloween,”

“WHAT!!!!” she cried out. “I was not!”

“Sure were, baby, sure you were,” he teased and squeezed her ass cheek hard, “you think I didn’t notice? You think I didn’t let you watch for as long as you wanted?”

“Oh my god, you are horrible!” she smacked his bare chest. “I wasn’t. It was just there. Your stomach! You were showing it to me,”

“Uh-uh. Anyways. This Christmas will be brilliant, for you and for me. A new start, a new beginning,”

“Beginning of what?” she asked timidly, her expression hopeful and eager. She liked what he was telling her.

“Us, Elain Archeron. Us. Argue all you want, but I ain’t letting you go. And I am taking Pinky to get us a tree!”

He drove the point home by reaching and cupping her breast. He squeezed it tightly, bouncing it within his palm. It didn’t escape him that Elain wasn’t wearing a bra under the t-shirt, and her soft full tits have been rolling around all evening long next to him and driving him crazy.

She squeaked in surprise, and attempted to throw his hand off, but once he brushed his thumb over her nipple, she stilled and her breathing hitched audibly.

“You want me to show you how I fuck?” he asked quietly, swiping his thumb over the hardening nipple.

“You promised,” she protested breathlessly. “You said you won’t pressu-,”

“I did,” he nodded. “I did. But let me promise something else now then,”

“What?”

“I will fuck you, Ellie. And you are going to love it. And you’ll ask for more.”

When Azriel was 9 years old, he stole an eclair from a bakery. His class was some kind of class trip to the theatre. They were brought to Covent Garden and he walked around there, eyes wide open, his mind blown. He’d never been to a place more exciting, or beautiful, or wealthy. All he knew were hospitals, drab council estates, and his football, which he often played on concrete. He gawked at the shops, all the restaurants and pubs, and the bakeries. Gorgeous displays of wonderful things everywhere.

Azriel always had quick, sticky fingers, and though he didn’t like thieving, sometimes, it was necessary. Basic necessities were hard to come by, and when he could, he stole–socks and belts, toothpaste, combs, tissues, candy. He made it a point not to steal for no reason, and not get in trouble needlessly, over something trivial.

That day, they passed by some French sounding bakery–it was all gleaming marble, and outlandish displays of croissants and pastries, cakes and tarts, and rich people drinking coffee and buying bread. Nine quid for a loaf of bread. Outrageous!

But there were two types of eclairs that he couldn’t tear his eyes from. One covered in a chocolate glaze, and another sprinkled with hazelnuts and decorated with cream roses. He couldn’t stop looking at them–two girthy decadent stunners that called his name. All he wanted was to sink his teeth into one. Or both.

So he went for it. He pinched them. Wasn’t difficult. He was small and no one paid any attention to him. Besides, even if someone did notice him, they’d assume he was here with a parent. It took a minute, tops. In and out, and two eclairs were nestled in a paper bag, and then in his school bag. Later that night, he and Cassian snuck out, and ate the eclairs sitting on the crumbling stoop of a building.

Up until tonight, Azriel Night had never tasted anything better than those eclairs. Never did anything more sumptuous, sinful and blissfully delicious pass his lips. Never.

Not until he sunk his teeth into Elain’s soft, delicate neck.

In his defence, the scent of her hair, her body, the mix of honey and jasmine and vanilla made him dream of those delectable pastries. And somehow, his lips found their way to her cheek, and then, to her gorgeous neck. His mouth travelled the length of her throat, placing hungry, hot, desperate kisses on the lightly perfumed, warm skin.

Elain moved and moaned softly beneath him, and he woke up fully, feeling her luscious breasts splayed beneath his chest, her small, firm hand gripping his bicep sleepily. He wasn’t sure if she was awake or if she was also dreaming. But once he started, he couldn’t stop. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and inhaled, while he kissed over the trembling pulse point, the hot pumping of blood erratic and needy beneath his lips. He licked her vein, before kissing gently below the ear, only to return to the neck, and cover it in more kisses, peppering it with small bites.

Elain’s eyes fluttered open and she looked up at him in the darkness.

He wouldn’t have it. Didn’t want any arguments or debates about this. Gripping her chin firmly with his fingers, he turned her head to the side, allowing him all the access he needed to her neck.

“Shhh,” he shushed her. “Let me have this…”

Her nails dug into his skin, but she didn’t fight him that moment. Her eyes closed and she inhaled deeply, back arching sexily and a needy little moan escaped her lips. He kissed her deeper, and his hand slipped back to her breast, which he covered with his palm. God she was soft. Soft and smooth and delicious in every way. And as his teeth and lips dug deeper into her skin and he sucked on her mercilessly, while realising that nothing compared to her in any way. She was his. That fluttering little heart beat for him.

He squeezed her breast harder, his fingers closing on the nipple, as he twisted it between his fingers, pinching it hard enough for her to gasp loudly.

“Oh fuck,” she moaned, “oh god,” because he pulled and pinched her nipple again, causing her to shudder next to him from both pain, but also pleasure.

Azriel figured that she hadn’t experienced true pleasure in a long time now. He was going to fix that.

“Enough,” she moaned at last and pushed him away slightly. “Not yet…”

“Okay,” he said quietly and pulled away from her neck. Flipping on his back, he covered his eyes with his forearm and willed himself to calm down. Elain was panting next to him.

When he glanced at her, her hair was a mess, her lips were parted, and she was holding her breast, while a bruise bloomed on her neck.

“Shit,” he whispered, rubbing his face. “I am sorry. Did I hurt you?”

She was silent, staring at the ceiling.

“Ellie, I am sorry,” he muttered worriedly, “forgive me. I am sorry, I overestimated my,”

“It felt good,” she said suddenly.

“Oh. Well, that’s good, right? I thought that I was too,”

“Rough? Yes. But you warned me about that,”

“And…is that okay?”

She thought about it and said, “No one’s ever been like that with me. You are different,”

“I should hope so!”

“You are so heavy,” she commented, “I love your weight. You are solid and so muscular,”

Amused he repeated, “That’s what you like? My weight?”

She pressed her fingers to her neck, “You bit me.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that,” he whispered sheepishly. “Didn’t mean to,”

“I think that you did. You marked me. I can feel the imprint of your teeth.”

Maybe he did mark her.

He bit her like a savage. Like an animal in heat during mating.

He’d never bit anyone like that before.

And he wasn’t sure what to make of it.

So he didn’t explain or say anything further. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to him, parking her curvy ass in the cradle of his hips. It seemed that she waited for him to say something, but when he didn’t, she tucked her hands beneath her cheek and settled in, with him holding her in his arms.

It was Piglet who nosed into Azriel’s neck, huffing and snorting, clawing at him lightly.

It was barely light outside, but that was to be expected. December in London wasn’t exactly full of sunshine and blue skies.

“He needs to go poop,” Elain groaned sleepily, though she made no effort to open her eyes and only snuggled closer to Azriel.

He smiled and patted her butt, before kissing her head and sitting up.

“Sleep, baby. I’ll take him.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, surprised.

“I am sure. Take a break. I’ll pick up his turds, no problem.”

She snorted a laugh and then turned away and pulled the blanket over her shoulder. Azriel climbed over her–totally unnecessarily–and made sure to sit on her for a second too, while she screeched and tried to swat him away.

“I thought you loved my weight?” he reminded her with a laugh.

“Not this much!” she yelled, and slapped his thigh. “Ohmygod, you are almost naked!”

“Sure am, baby. Nothing but a thin piece of cotton that’s standing between you and my cock n’ balls.”

“It’s too early for your sex talk,” she complained.

“Sweetness, when we are married, be prepared for some morning sex.”

“It’s especially too early for your marriage talk.”

“Never!”

“Make sure to put a coat and a hat on him,”

Azriel picked Pinky up and muttered under his breath, “You do remember that he is a descendant of wolves?! Now he eats fuckin’ meatloaf and wears a hat to go outside.”

At the word ‘meatloaf’ Piglet howled happily.

“That’s for Christmas,” Azriel promised him.

Leaving Elain to snooze, Azriel picked up his clothes, and then found a bathroom in the hallway. It was right across from Elain’s bedroom, where he didn’t dare go yet, but he figured that that’s the one she used for herself. When he entered, he was proven correct. It was the prettiest bathroom imaginable–with a gorgeous view outside, no less. As with everything in this house, it was a perfect combination of modern and classic, tiled simply with white tiles, it also had a modern tub, and a glass shower.

He already imagined their babies splashing in the tub and him fucking Elain in the shower.

Yeah, he always had a vivid imagination.

He looked around, snooping through the cupboards and cabinets. Elain had a moderate amount of products for her hair, only a couple of body lotions, which he sniffed, perfume–custom made, which explained her unique scent–period pads and tampons (he noted the brands, so he could buy them for his own place), same for toothpaste (they used the same one) and finally, he opened the medicine cabinet. No prescription drugs. Just a few utilitarian things and that’s about it, other than the flat disc, which he was pretty familiar with. He took it out and opened it. Low dosage birth control pills. He tsked, seeing as Elain wasn’t very careful about taking them. He figured that she probably didn’t care, since her ginger prick wasn’t here, but that also pleased him because she definitely wasn’t fucking anyone right now.

As he wrestled with Piglet, who was ready for a bath apparently, Azriel considered what to do. He found a pack of toothbrushes, brushed his teeth, noting that he was looking better than yesterday, combed his hair, and then slipped the birth control pills into the backpocket of his joggers.

No need for these anymore, sweetheart.

Did he feel bad about messing with Elain’s birth control–not really.

He just stole it.

At least he didn’t replace the pills with sugar pills, which he briefly considered.

He wasn’t a good man, and he never pretended to be one.

But he wanted his cum to fall in fertile ground, when the time came for that. Ellie didn’t need any birth control.

By the time he and Pinky returned from their walk, Azriel carrying two cups of coffee and a bag with pastries, Elain was up.

For a moment, he worried that she was going to question him about the pills, but she didn’t say anything, only laughing at Pinky’s ridiculous outfit. It was some kind of knit poncho with a hat attached to it. He looked like an idiot, but Azriel loved it, and so did Elain apparently.

“I love walking with him,” Azriel announced, setting breakfast on the counter. “No one pays attention to me. Everyone is only interested in him. Someone even asked him if I was his new dogwalker!”

Elain burst out laughing, while Piglet began zooming around the first floor and Azriel sat down across from her.

“I have a proposal,” she said at last, lacing her fingers together, as she stared him down.

He rolled his eyes and threw his head back.

“Oh god. I am not in the mood for proposals. Unless you are being a modern woman and asking me to marry you. Then, it’s a yes.”

“Well, no.”

“Figures.”

“But it is connected to marriage.”

He sipped his coffee and then said dejectedly, “What now, beautiful? You better make it good.”

“I promise to go out with you,” she announced grandly, and he laughed.

“Isn’t it a little too late for that? Considering that I am sleeping in your bed now?”

“No. Proper dating,” she insisted. “Like if you are my boyfriend,”

“I am your boyfriend,” he reminded her.

“Can you listen to me!” she snapped, and he rubbed the back of his neck before finally saying, “fine. What do you want?”

“You agree to go out with two more candidates,”

Shaking his head violently, he said, “no, no, no. No way. I am done with all that.”

“You’ve gone on ONE DATE!!!”

“No,” he corrected. “I’ve gone on three dates, with one person.”

“Exactly!” she did not relent. “With one person. That’s not enough. Nuala is one candidate. You must go on at least two more.”

“I don’t have to do anything. I am happy where I am at–with you.”

“Mr. Night,” she began, but he waved his hand,

“Fuck off with the Mr. Night, beautiful. We are done with all that. And I am done with the matchmaking. I am matched already.”

“Do you take pride in your work?” she asked seriously.

“Obviously.”

“And just because you are friends with someone from an opposing team, would it stop you from scoring against them?”

“Probably not.”

“Well, consider me your opponent.”

“That’s not even remotely the same. Your comparison is absolute shite. You aren’t my opponent. And I am not scoring against you. I wanna score with you.”

“Two people! Is that so much to ask? If it doesn’t work out, then we know that this is real,”

“I already know that this is real. I don’t need to go on dates with random lasses to know that I’d come back to you.”

“What if you are infatuated?”

“I am infatuated. But it’s much more than that. Also, why am I gonna waste time on courting others, when I have work to do with you. You are still all shifty and weird with me.”

“Because you are my client!” she exclaimed with exasperation. “This isn’t something I’ve ever even considered doing! Let alone actually…doing it.

“And I need to know for myself that this is right for us. For me. I have to know that I am not selfishly shortchanging you.”

“You aren’t,” he insisted. “But if I must, I will go out with two more matches. No more,” he warned her sternly. “No more, Elain. I am not kidding,”

“I understand.”

“If it doesn’t work out–which it won’t–I am done and done, and I am dating you. That’s it.”

“But you have to be truthful and sincere about it. Not just say ‘no’ to them because you want to be cross and contradictory,” she added quickly.

“Fine.”

“Good.”

“But if they aren’t for me, I will be honest about that too.”

“Fine.”

Lady Morrigan Court-Hewn.

30 years old. Socialite. Handbag and jewellery designer. Graduated from St. Andrews with a degree in International Studies. A fencing champion at the university, and an accomplished equestrian. Still rides professionally.

Previously engaged to Lord Vincent Eris Autumn, son of Earl Beron Autumn. Notable previous relationships include Prince Harry, Henry Cavill and a brief fling with Ronaldo.

Hobbies: Car racing (F1), horses, fencing and wine tasting

Today

And that’s how Azriel ended up here.

‘Professional drinker’ was definitely omitted from Mor’s profile. As was, ‘expert gold digger’.

As Dev drove towards Russell Square, Azriel checked his phone.

Baron Kier Court-Hewn lost most of his fortune about ten years ago. He bred racing horses, and five of his top steeds needed to be put down due to some disease that they all got. With the death of the horses, the family fortune dwindled. That explained Mor’s ‘research’ into everyone’s finances. It wasn’t surprising that Azriel was primed for the taking.

He wouldn’t have cared about the money thing all that much–it was understandable, everyone wanted money–if she weren’t so vocal about her cunty opinions about Elain, and her calling Pinky ‘lame and legless’.

It’s been a busy week and he was feeling antsy for not having seen Elain and Pinky for four days. He set up the meeting with Mor as soon as Elain got him her information, preferring to get that out of the way. Then he had to travel to two games, and even though he wasn’t playing, he still had to attend. There was a meeting with disadvantaged youths from East London a couple of days ago, and a whole day shooting an advert for Christmas with his team.

Thankfully, it was almost holiday time.

Once Dev pulled up to the townhouse, Azriel said, “don’t wait up”.

Dev smirked and told him, “I wouldn’t think of it!”

Bracing against the cold, Azriel rushed up the stairs and banged loudly on the door. Pink’s excited barking and scratching was heard on the other side.

“What is it?” came Elain’s faint question. “Piglet, what’s going on?”

Bark-bark.

“Is it daddy?”

Fuck yeah it’s daddy!

The next moment, the door opened and Elain was smiling at him.

“Get dressed, beautiful,” Azriel ordered. “Put a hat on Pinky. We are going tree shopping!”

#elriel #elain archeron #azriel #azriel and elain #pro elriel #elain #elain x azriel #A Match Baked In Heaven #new chapter #elriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction #Elriel fanfic #my writing #my fanfiction

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pastafossa · 1 year

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🎄The Biggest Tree In All The Kitchen 🎄 (Matt Murdock x F!Reader, Fic)

Right so despite the craziness of the plagiarist and the BIGGEST BLIZZARD MY CITY HAS EVER SEEN IN ITS HISTORY, I managed to get this done! As promised, Matt and TRT’s Reader deserve a goddamn Christmas tree, and you all deserve some fluff after the rough few chapters we’ve just hit in TRT!

Rating: SFW, some language and slight innuendo and a few kisses, but other than that, just fluff and humor and Matt being absolutely determined to get you the biggest goddamn tree he can find and Foggy’s Christmas movie/ references. Wordcount: 5,855, you are going to get FED. Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader. Specifically TRT’s reader, but the fic isn’t required reading. Just know you haven’t had a Christmas in a very long time due to Enhanced Abilities reasons.

The second Matt heard your heart skip, he made his decision.

“What do you mean, ‘it’s not a big deal?!’” Foggy bellowed, throwing his hands up as you circled the pool table for your next shot. “It’s absolutely a big deal!”

“It’s just a tree, Foggy.” You wrinkled your nose while lining up your next shot. “Ciro’s daughter was allergic, so we had a fake one. After I left at eighteen, I never saw the point of getting one if there was no one but me around. It’s not like it bothers me.”

Lie.

Matt, waiting at the bar for all of your drinks, tipped his head as he listened. Slowly, a devious plan began to form in his mind.

“I’m with Foggy. I call bullshit,” Karen laughed, her shirt rustling as if she’d just crossed her arms. “We’ve all seen you stopping at windows that had Christmas trees.”

“You look like a puppy staring up at a cookie jar,” Foggy sighed. “Tell me you and Matt are getting a tree for your first real Christmas together. I’ve seen your ceilings. You could fit a giraffe in there.”

“Or a giraffe-sized tree,” Karen snickered.

You shrugged one shoulder, eyeballing your next shot. “I figured we’d get one of those little plastic ones and put our ornaments on it. I haven’t really thought about getting a big one.”

Lie.

“I swear to God,” Foggy said grimly, “if I walk in there and see some sad little Charlie Brown plastic tree, we cannot be friends. Just admit you want a big tree.”

You took your shot, your stick sliding smoothly forward. The crack of the cueball rang out a moment later. “I admit nothing outside a court of law.”

“Or inside the court, let’s be honest,” Karen said, biting her lip. That turned into another snicker when you rolled your eyes without actually denying it.

“Swear!” Foggy demanded, jabbing a finger towards the bar where Matt stood. Matt helpfully waved. “Swear on Matthew!”

You snorted. “Foggy, I do not—”

Lie.

“—want—”

Lie.

“—a big Christmas tree.”

Huge lie.

Matt frowned.

“Besides,” you said, moving to your next shot. “All I need for Christmas is Matt and you guys. That’s all I need to be happy.”

Truth.

His lips quirked up in a little smile.

Foggy sighed. “That was sappy, even for you. Get it? Sappy? It’s because you’ve got Christmas sap inside you, I just know it. You’re one step away from dancing yourself into a Christmas movie.”

“Hey, Joe,” Matt asked, tilting his head at one of the regulars at the bar. “Do you know if those guys with the Christmas trees have set up on 43rd yet?”

“Think so,” he grunted, reaching up to scratch at his beard. “Saw them hauling their shit by earlier. Got some big fuckers this year.”

Perfect.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he hummed as he crawled up over your blanket-covered form, dropping a fond kiss here and there to the blankets as if it were your skin.

You let out a muffled grunt but didn’t otherwise stir, buried somewhere beneath the mountain of blankets. Like this, to his senses, you were a sleepy lump, only vaguely shaped like yourself, and a lump that barely moved even when he straddled your waist. Or what he thought was your waist, anyway; it was a little hard to tell, even with his senses. He’d already tried and failed to lure you out with the scent of coffee, which meant it was time for a more serious attempt.

He leaned forward to nuzzle at what felt like your head, a sleepy growl buzzing beneath him. It took him a minute to get the angle just right as he hunted for where the heat from your breath had warmed the blankets, but eventually, he managed to orient on just how you were laying. Then he veered off to the side, aiming for what he hoped was your ear, and murmured, “I know you’re awake.”

“Birds are awake,” came the muffled, grumpy reply. “The love of my life is awake. I am not awake. ‘S eight. Come back at nine when I’m open.”

He snorted, rearing up and grabbing the blankets. Before he could so much as tug, you’d burrowed in deeper. From there it became a tug of war, as he yanked and you squirmed around beneath him, the motion oddly familiar.

“You… are you rotating—” he laughed in disbelief, and you were, growling and spinning, rolling over and over again like a rotisserie chicken, winding the blankets around yourself. A moment later he lost the blankets as the edge was yanked underneath you, every last blanket on the bed now wound around you.

“Checkmate,” you said, your smugness losing some of its impact now that you were shaped like a particularly large and beloved burrito.

He shifted around until he could pick up the massive, fuzzy cocoon you’d become. Your noise of protest was muffled, but he ignored you, settling himself back against the headboard with your blanket cocoon in his arms. But that was fine; he knew exactly how to lure you out.

“I suppose we could stay in today,” he said innocently. “I may have had something planned, but it’s not important.”

The you-shaped blanket cocoon vibrated, as if mildly curious. “…Planned?

There it was. You could never resist that tone.

“Mhm.” He sighed theatrically so that you could hear him. He had you on the line. Now he just had to reel it in, very slowly. He adjusted you until your blanket-covered legs lay over his, your body tipped sideways to lay against his chest. “I thought maybe we could go out and do a little shopping.”

You grumbled, settling in as if you were determined to fall asleep again. “‘S too early. Shops are closed.”

“Not this one.” He laid his head atop yours, and with your head still covered in blankets, there was no way for you to see his grin. Still, he kept his tone innocent as you squirmed around, getting comfortable. “Besides, Foggy told me all the good trees go early.”

The rustling went still, and even beneath all the blankets, he heard your heart start to race.

“…Tree?” you said hopefully. And yet the barest edge of skepticism lingered beneath the word as if you couldn’t quite believe you’d heard him right. “Like… a real tree?”

“Real as I can find. They open at nine.” He rolled one shoulder, his smile softening. He wound his arms around you a little tighter. “I thought we could… go look for one.”

There was a long pause, and he rubbed his hand up and down the blankets over your back. He knew this was something of a sensitive topic for you—allowing yourself to do what you wanted after having been in hiding for so long, after being alone for years. But if this was something you wanted, he’d find a way to make it happen. You deserved this, after all the things you’d missed out on in your life. It wouldn’t make up for all of it, not even close, but it was a start.

And maybe… maybe it was for him, too. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a tree. Even as a kid, it was a rare thing to have enough money laying around for one. Him and his dad made do where they could, and every now and then managed to snatch up a small tree for cheap. God, those Christmases had seemed so magical, no matter how many needles fell off the patchy branches strung with paper ornaments and glittering tinsel. Funny how all that magic could drain away so quickly in a darkened alley, drain away like drying blood over cracked asphalt.

He’d lost interest in Christmas for a while, after that.

Foggy’s insistence on a dorm tree had been the first time in years he’d had one, and after that, the Nelson and Murdock office tree had been enough for him. There’d been no reason to put one up in his apartment. It wasn’t like he could see it, and he hadn’t… had anyone else who might want one. The few ornaments he’d managed to save from before his dad died hadn’t been enough of a reason to get a tree, not when it would feel… feel so empty, and remind him of just how alone he was in the world.

But now…

What would it be like to have a real Christmas, one with someone he loved, in the home that you and he had both created?

God, he wanted that with you.

“Wouldn’t the smell bother you?” you asked hesitantly, your face still hidden. The blankets, if he had to guess, had now become less of a tactic to retain warmth and more of a defense mechanism as you hunted for the catch. “Some smell really strong. Or so I heard, I haven’t, uh, really looked.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he purred, “you’ll need more blankets if you want to hide a lie that big.”

You snorted, the blankets shaking as if you’d sneezed. The mountain of fabric began to shift as you squirmed around inside, and eventually, your head popped free, a ball of warmth and scent and stirred air currents. You rocked yourself around a little until you could get one arm free, too, and then you lifted your hand to cup his face. You considered him for a moment, as he leaned into your hand, pursing his lips to kiss your thumb fondly when it swept over his mouth. The taste and scent of your skin made him sigh, his eyes fluttering closed. And when you spoke, your heart beat truthful and steady. “I don’t want one if it’ll bother your senses. The tree’s not worth it if you’re miserable.”

Something in him softened at that, and he leaned in, dragging his nose against yours just for the way it made you smile before he tipped his head and pressed his lips to yours. He stayed there for a time, sighing with you as he pulled you in, his mouth working gently against yours. You stroked your thumb against his cheek, stubble rasping under your touch, tingling ripples of pleasure when you curved your fingers to gift him a little scratch with your nails. He let out the softest little moan, content as he’d ever been, warm and happy and loved here with you. “I love you, and thank you, my little burrito alleycat.”

“A burrito alleycat that loves you, too, Devil-man.” You kissed him again, short, fond kisses that made him feel slack and lazy, the usual aches and pains in his body fading beneath the warmth of your touch. You lifted your hand to scratch lightly through his hair, making him purr into your mouth. “Tree. Bothers those senses or no?”

He tilted his head to lazily kiss your wrist, before he groaned and lolled his head back into your hand when you hit a sore spot, his voice growing thick and glutted beneath your affection. “I, mm, may have called ahead and asked about some trees with gentler scents. They’ve got some that should work. Big ones, too.”

And oh, the way you drew in a slow breath, your fingers pausing in his hair. He knew, then, that even if there hadn’t been a mildly-scented tree for miles, it would have been worth it to travel farther still.

“A big tree?” you whispered, something like awe in your voice. “How big?”

“How big do you want?”

“I measured the apartment, we can fit an eighteen-foot tree in here right by the stairs, it’d have room to go up and spread out and there’d still be room for you to get your suit and also I found bulk ornaments for sale that we could use to fill it out until we have enough special ones of our own—”

“You… you measured—”

“I drew a diagram, do you want to feel it?” You lurched away from him and before he could catch you, you’d rolled yourself out of bed with a thunk and a low grunt, the blankets padding your fall. He listened in disbelief as you rolled along on your side, the blankets unwinding until at last, you were free.

Abruptly a laugh burst out of him as you scrambled up, darting out the bedroom door.

“Matt, put a shirt on!” you shouted, practically bouncing as you tore around the kitchen. “They open at nine, there might be a line!”

“I’m going to point out that you’re also still in your pajamas, sweetheart.”

Thumpthumpthumpthumpthump—

You raced back into the bedroom like a tree-obsessed gazelle, and he caught you with a grin as you leapt back onto the bed with him. That grin only got wider as you kissed him, kissed his cheeks and his forehead and then his smiling mouth, your hands in his hair, affection he soaked in with a quiet sigh as you whispered, “Thank you, thank you, thank you—”

“Don’t thank me just yet,” he huffed in amusement. That huff turned into a groan when you dipped to kiss along his throat, too, blatant affection along vulnerabilities that he bared only for you. He melted beneath the touch, his eyes fluttering shut, head rolling back in invitation when your warm lips passed over his pulse. “Mm, we still haven’t figured out how we’re going to get it into the apartment.”

“Trust me. I have ideas.”

“Not this one,” he said with a hum. “Smells too dry.”

“Not this one either.” You stepped back to narrow your eyes in thought. “Trunk is crooked.”

The worker had long since left you both alone to browse the tree lot. Even though you both had a short list of preferred trees, it had seemed wise to work your way from the front to the back and inspect every tree currently available, just in case there was a surprise hiding somewhere. One by one, the two of you had gone through a rigorous, solemn inspection with all the gravity given to one of Matt’s legal cases.

Too small.

Too many open spaces between the branches.

Needles smell like cat pee inside.

You hadn’t known that was something to worry about, but you trusted Matt’s judgement, just like you trusted the stinky cat face he made upon circling that tree in particular.

Neither of you were looking for perfect. Perfect didn’t exist, you knew. All you wanted was good: a large-ish, relatively-healthy tree, and one that wouldn’t make Matt’s nose itch or fill the entire apartment with prickly needles. You’d made note of a few potential trees, keeping them in mind as you approached the back of the lot. You’d seen a noble fir halfway down that had looked promising—it wasn’t all that tall at eight feet but it would still look good by the stairs. You were halfway into a turn, intending to track the tree down again when you saw it.

The one.

“Oh,” you breathed, your head tilting as you stared up.

And up.

Matt taped his cane as he stepped up beside you, his head tipped as he considered the tree with you, his brow furrowed.

“Scent level?” you asked him softly.

He twitched his nose, the tip of it red from the cold. “Not bad. It’s a white fir, I think. I can definitely smell it, but it’s not unpleasant. The scent’s a little like citrus, actually. Density? Shape?”

“I can’t see the trunk at all. Room for ornaments. Perfect triangle shape. Rot? Damage inside?”

He started a slow circle around the tree, his lips parted minutely as he tasted the air. With each step he tapped his cane a few times, his head tipped towards the tree as he listened to the way it resonated. You watched nervously, biting your lip as you waited. There had to be a problem with it, there had to be. No tree was perfect, especially not your first real tree.

Matt came back around the tree, humming as he returned to your side. “It’s fresh. One of the freshest here, I think, or it sounds like it. And it smells clean. No rot.”

You reached out to take a branch gently in your hand, and when you pulled your gloved fingers down the line of it, your hand came away clean and free of needles. Another test passed as you sighed longingly. “Oh, Matt, it’s perfect.”

You both stepped back, staring up. Or, well, you did. Matt stared in spirit, if not in body.

It was perfect.

It was also… absolutely huge.

If it wasn’t eighteen feet, it was damned close, easily one of the tallest trees in the lot. The tree easily towered over you both, thick branches reaching up towards the heavens as if it longed to achieve the same height as the trees of the steel-and-concrete forest around it. That presence was undeniable, and even bound as it was, it was wide: broad and thick, its branches as big around as your wrist, each needle a vibrant blue-green touched with silver. It was the type of tree you’d only ever seen in movies, likely meant for building lobbies.

Or…

…for a couple with really, really high ceilings thanks to roof access.

“We could fit so many ornaments on it,” you breathed.

“How big did you say the ceilings were?” Matt asked, the cock of his head making you think he was running the numbers himself.

“Technically twenty. I left two feet for space at the top,” you said absently, already envisioning just how you might decorate this tree. Which was ridiculous.

It wasn’t even your tree yet, the common sense voice in your mind said. Besides, there were smaller, more suitable trees back up the lot.

It would cost too much, the sensible part of you said, even though you’d… maybe sorta been setting aside money for a tree this size for months now.

It was too large to be practical, the logical section of your brain howled. It would be a nightmare to get inside. An absolute, full-fledged, Christmas nightmare.

But it could fit.

You could make it fit.

You would make it fit.

“I can hear your pupils dilating,” Matt chuckled, the corner of his mouth tilted up into a small smirk. That smirk grew into a full-blown grin when you poked him, and he leaned over to press his mouth to your ear, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Is this our tree? I know you’ve been setting money aside just in case.”

You reached out longingly to pet the branches, soft needles kissing at your gloved fingertips as if to return your affection. God, even the needles were perfect, far less prickly than some of the other trees. It would make it easier for Matt to help you decorate. This tree… it was like it was made for you and him: made for your home, for his senses, for your first real Christmas since fleeing Los Angeles years ago. It had everything you wanted. It was healthy, and ready for a mountain of ornaments and tinsel and as many strings of lights as you could get your hands on.

“Do you think we can?” You bit your lip again, daring to glance at him out of the corner of your eye. “I know it’s big, and it’ll be hell getting it inside. More practical to get a smaller tree.”

“When has practicality ever stopped me?” He tipped his head, kissing your temple as you laughed, letting him wind an arm around your waist. He tapped his cane again a few times, humming thoughtfully. “It doesn’t sound like it’ll fit through our front door, but the new rooftop door’s a bit wider. If we come through that one, I think we can get it inside. We can make this work.”

“Jesus,” you breathed, staring up as he set his chin atop your head. “We’re really gonna do it. We’re gonna drag an eighteen-footer into our apartment.”

“We are.” He let out a pleased noise when you sidled in, nudging at him until he wound both arms around your waist, draping himself contentedly against your back. “There is admittedly one thing I’m not sure about.”

“What, transport?”

Matt shook his head. “I had Foggy drive over. He’s borrowing one of his family’s delivery trucks. Him and Karen should be here in about ten minutes, and they’re very excited to see what we picked out. No, the real question is…”

Oh.

“How,” you said slowly, “the fuck are we going to get this onto the roof?”

“Pi-vooooooot!” Foggy howled from one flight up.

“I understood that reference, so ha, but also: which way do we pivot?!” you wheezed, shoving at the tree. “Matt, push.”

“I am pushing,” he groaned from down near the base, his teeth grit, feet wide.

“I’m sor—” you started.

“Don’t you finish that sentence,” Matt growled, ducking his shoulder and heaving. The tree shivered and moved a half-inch. “You-you wanted… a-a big tree for our first Christmas, and we’re getting one, so help me God.”

“And he’s Catholic so he means that literally,” Foggy puffed, yanking at the ropes. The tree sympathetically moved another inch, its needles shivering as if in apology over its own size. “And he’s—gah—right, cause this’ll take an act of God to-to get it inside. Ok, I don’t know what direction you’re pivoting, but it’s the wrong pivot. Pivot the other way. Pivot.”

“You guys are doing great,” Karen said innocently. Probably because there was only room for three of you on the stairwell and she’d drawn the good straw.

Matt groaned again. “There are three other directions we can pivot, Foggy.” And yet he tried, tendons straining in his neck, his jaw clenched as you and him tried to shift the tree in a new direction. He was, admittedly, taking the majority of the tree’s weight of the three of you since he was the strongest, but he was also the only one who’d rather let the tree crush him to death than admit he couldn’t simply levitate it up the stairs through masochism and sheer stubbornness, so you got your own shoulder farther under it, taking more weight while Foggy decided where to go.

“Uh, left pivot, left pivot.”

There was a crunch as the three of you hit the wall.

“I swear to Catholic Jesus, Foggy,” you announced grimly, “if you Friends-pivot our tree into breaking, I will come up this tree at you like a rabid squirrel.”

“Merry Christmas, shitter was full!” Foggy bellowed, yanking hard enough that the tree, surprisingly, moved another inch. “Karen, how we lookin?”

“I’m going to get so many views on this,” Karen snickered, her phone aimed upwards.

“Karen!” Foggy barked, and you squawked beneath the increased weight of the tree as Foggy let go with one hand to point back down the stairs. The motion almost took you out until Matt shoved a leg out, bracing when your feet started to slide back, his face covered in sweat, teeth bared as if he were fighting someone in an alley and not the laws of physics and the equally dangerous laws of girlfriends who wanted very large Christmas trees. “Don’t you—ok, actually, send me this video later. But mechanics first! Status?”

“Right, you guys are, uh…”

“Are we almost to the landing?” you wheezed hopefully, spitting out a pine needle that had, somehow, wound up in your mouth.

Unfortunately, Matt was below you.

“I love you, too,” Matt said tiredly, the wet pine needle now stuck in his hair.

“Sorry.”

Karen cleared her throat, and you leaned your head over the railing… to meet her eye where she stood, roughly two inches below you. She gave you a weak thumbs up.

Matt groaned, leaning forward to faceplant on one of the branches.

“Right,” you said. “I have… a different plan.”

“You stole this from While You Were Sleeping, didn’t you?” Foggy said, his voice crackling through your cell’s speakerphone where you’d set it on the rooftop’s A.C. unit.

“Admitting to nothing,” you wheezed. “Just-just keep an eye on the-the tree. Right, again!”

You, Karen, and Matt all yanked.

The ropes groaned once more, drawn up taut as the three of you attempted to pull up the massive tree over the side of the building. You’d been at this for ten minutes, and managed to make it to the second story, according to Foggy. But it had taken a lot out of the three of you, even Matt. He, of course, declared that he was fine, but you’d once heard him say the same thing about a bullet wound roughly three minutes before passing out, so you took that with a container’s-worth of salt grains.

Karen growled, digging her heels in as you all huffed and puffed, Christmas spirit driving you forward like the crack of a whip. “W-when did you—ugh—say your friend was… gonna get here?”

“Not quite a friend,” you grunted, leaning back so sharply you almost rammed into Matt behind you, who was making a strange wheezing sound as he no doubt attempted to pull the entire tree up by himself despite there being two additional people. “And she just kinda—ngh—shows up if she feels like it. Fifty-fifty chance. Matt, do not tear something.”

“Can meditate—”

“No!” you bellowed, gritting your teeth as you all yanked, the rope slowly coming with you. “N-no meditating! Need your-your back healthy for ornament hanging—”

“I knew you loved me for something,” he mumbled.

“—and tree-topping—”

“And the other kind of topping,” Karen said, somehow sly despite the fact that you were all soaked in sweat and wild-eyed, smelling like pine needles and rabid determination.

“Oh my God, Karen,” you wheezed, your feet skidding on the cement.

“What? It’s true.”

“It’s fine,” Matt grunted. “She can top if my back goes.”

“Are we talking about trees or…?”

The wind picked up.

Which wasn’t that unusual. But then again, you weren’t normally all hanging onto ropes tied to an eighteen-foot hanging embodiment of all your Christmas hopes and dreams.

Just like that, the rope snapped you all forward as if a giant had taken hold and yanked. Matt crashed into you, and together, your tangled bodies took out Karen at the knees. You all tumbled forward, the rope flying free.

Oh, no you don’t.

You did not go over a decade without a fucking Christmas tree just to lose your first eighteen-footer.

You were going to have a merry fucking Christmas if it killed you.

You leapt for the rope with a snarl, and Matt, predictably sensing that, for once, he was the one with an excess of self-preservation, darted after you. You only just managed to snag the rope, throwing yourself back, your feet shoved forward to brace yourself against the edge of the rooftop. Unfortunately, while you did a lot of walking and running, you didn’t quite have the muscle to hold it. Few did.

Matt caught you a moment later, bracketing your own legs with his, his arms around you until he could grab the rope, too. And, not for the first time, you found yourself grateful for all the muscle in those massive thighs of his when he shoved his feet up against the wall, locked up with a growl, and held.

The tree lurched to a stop.

"Fuck, I love your beefy thighs," you panted. "Remind me to show them appreciation later."

He groaned, trying to lean his body back farther. "Now's not the best time—nngh—to make me think about you and my thighs, sweetheart."

“Right,” Foggy’s voice crackled. “Unless that was intentional and you tried to throw your tree down like Hans Gruber off the Nakatomi Building, I’m glad to inform you that you stopped it six inches from the ground.”

“Matt—” you panted, shoved up against Matt's chest. Karen had already caught the slack behind you both, but there wasn’t enough leverage for you both to back away. If even one of you let go… “I don’t know if we can-can make it—”

“Don’t say that!” he hissed, muscles straining, his chest heaving at your back. “I-I can save it, we need the tree, so we can have Christmas like you wanted—”

“The only thing I need for Christmas is—nngh—you, Matt.”

“Should I be filming?” Karen panted. “This is-is touching, but—”

“Really?” Matt asked you quietly. “You’d be happy… even if we—”

“I’m always happy with you.” You leaned your sweat-soaked head back against him, twisting as best you could to kiss his chin. “Tree, or no tree.”

“Jesus Christ, that was disgusting. You owe me an extra bottle for this.”

The rope suddenly tore free from your hands—

—and snapped taut as someone lifted it up and began to pull.

And it went, with all the ease of a dog being tugged along on a Sunday stroll.

“Holy shit,” Karen whispered.

“Karen, Matt,” you puffed, waving back. “This is—”

“I’m not drunk enough for introductions so don’t bother,” Jessica grunted as she walked backwards, casually winding the rope around one hand as she considered the bottle in her other hand, one you’d left by the door as an offering in hopes that she might smell what amounted to paint thinner and show up like the world’s most foul-mouthed elf. “Not my usual shit, but it’ll do.”

“Second one will be delivered to your office as promised,” you panted, still leaning back against Matt.

“Now it’s three for having to listen to that sappy display. Now unless you want that tree to fuck you into the ground, I’d get the hell away from the edge before it comes up.”

You and Matt both scrambled out of the way as the first branches appeared over the edge, and even Karen took a few steps back.

“Right, I have no idea what’s happening,” Foggy’s voice crackled. “But holy shit, whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.”

“Open this,” Jessica said, shoving the bottle into your hands as she walked back down the rope, hand over hand before she got to the edge. She shoved one hand over the edge, snorting once she got a good look at the tree. “Shit, you’re one of them, aren’t you? Christmas psychopath.”

You shrugged one shoulder, unscrewing the top of the bottle—God knew it wasn’t expensive enough to need a cork or have a bottle cap. “If I’m in, I’m in.”

“Go big or go home,” Matt said, his grin only barely hidden behind mock solemnity.

“Applies only to good fucks and bottles,” she snarked back, casually lifting the eighteen-foot tree in one somehow-disgusted hand, pulling it up and over the roof like one might pluck up a filthy, crusted spaghetti noodle from the floor.

Karen’s eyes were wide, and even Matt had tilted his head beside you. “Is she…?”

“She is,” Karen breathed. “Jesus. I guess that’s one way to get the tree up here.”

“Don’t count on this next year. And you owe me, even with the booze.” She grunted and tossed the massive tree down, dusting her hands off. The sap on her fingers made her scowl. “Why everyone’s obsessed with nature is beyond me.”

“Christmas nature,” you corrected. “At least it’s not the giant turtle guy. I heard he’s gone to you since I wouldn’t go down again.”

“Don’t remind me,” she muttered. “He’s been in my office three times in the past month ranting about them coming up out of the sewers.”

You handed her the bottle as she passed you by, throwing her a salute, as did Karen. “Thanks for the help.”

“Remember: two bottles, my office. Then we’re even.”

“It was nice to meet you,” Matt said, the corner of his mouth tilting up as if he already knew the response that was coming.

“Nicer to leave,” she said, waving one hand before disappearing down the stairs, leaving nothing but the tree and the scent of discount whiskey in her wake.

“She sounded lovely,” Foggy said. “And also hilarious. Can we invite her to the Nelson and Murdock Christmas party? Is the tree up there at least?”

You stared at the tree.

The tree now on the roof.

“Matt, I’d open your arms,” Karen said with a grin. “Incoming.”

Matt grinned and pivoted, throwing his arms open as you leapt up into them. He spun you both in a big circle, your laughter torn away by the wind, the first snowflakes of the day beginning to drift down. “Fuck, we did it, Matt! We got our Christmas tree!”

“If my girl wants a big tree, she gets a big tree,” he said, his grin softening to a smile when you buried your hands in his hair, dark strands dusted with white, and tipped his head up so you could kiss him warmly, safely held in his arms, and if your eyes were maybe a little wet, he wasn’t willing to say anything but, “Love you, sweetheart.”

There was a quiet click as Karen took a picture.

“Thank you,” you whispered, as his nose brushed against yours. “Thank you for giving me a real tree, Matt.”

It took time to get it inside, but once you managed, things came together perfectly. It was the perfect height, filling the open space with a mass of brilliant blue-green touched with silver, its branches stretched wide. It took you and Matt a good ten strands of lights to wrap the whole thing and at least five boxes of standard ornaments. Here and there, between them all, hung more personal touches:

Paper ornaments, carefully folded and cut by quiet memory alone.

A little penguin couple in Santa hats, flippers held tight above both script and braille that read, ‘Our First Christmas.’

And now…

“I like this one,” you murmured, hooking the final ornament onto the tree and standing back. Matt wound his arms around your waist, his head on your shoulder. “I’m glad Karen took that picture.”

“Do we look happy?” he asked you quietly. “Is it… does the tree look right?”

And you heard the unspoken:

Did I do this right?

You turned and let your gaze slide over his face. He looked… more content than he had in a long, long time. And yet there was a hint of vulnerability there, too, hidden beneath the softened glow of the Christmas lights, painted in shades of red and green and blue. You leaned in and pressed your lips to his cheek, and he turned, nuzzling in so he could kiss you back. “It’s the perfect tree,” you told him softly. “It’s bright and full of colors with all the lights and our ornaments. All our little ones look even more special. It looks like something out of a movie, or a Christmas card. It’s exactly what I wanted.”

He sighed, dropping his head to your shoulder and relaxing at last, as you lifted your hand to brush through his hair. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

“Merry Christmas, Matt. And here’s to many more, until we’re old and grey.”

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dvredevil-s-initivls · 2 years

Text

Biased

Aka : a self indulgent Matt Murdock fanfic that has been stuck in my head. You’re a jury counsellor and with a single night he changes your decision

Characters : Matt Murdock, jury Y/N

Warnings : oral (f receiving) unprotected sex,piv sex , Matt Murdock, slow burn

“The jury should not be biased by one or another attorney and their choice”

“Melanie, I told you. I left the earring on my bedside table, I don’t know where it went and that’s it! And i don’t know anyone else except you who lives in our apartment!” You sighed. Your roommate had taken your hoop earring but she didn’t wanna accept it.

It was a hot day for New York . The heavy air of July bothered the people as you went back to the courthouse after eating your lunch (a 15 dollars sandwich with extra iceberg salad ).

Your job wasn’t that hard, although it was picky. Almost everything depended on you and that weight on your shoulders was heavy. How the person’s life will go depends on you. That thought was eating you from the inside since you actually got the job for court jury. The case you were working on for now, was one of your biggest. A woman had killed her husband and lover, burying them in the back garden. Apparently her excuse was “that both of them had cheated” . Ugh, what a skunk.

Your former superior, Blake tower was fighting against some unknown firm, “Nelson & Murdock” . You thought that tower’s point of view was the right one and that the woman should go to jail, but she just continued saying that she didn’t kill them, but confronted them.

After a while you and your coworkers had decided on a break which led you here, sitting in the lounge room of NY’s courtroom, arguing on the phone with Mel and her friends.

Someone with a tall figure approached you, a cane in his hand. You realized it was that other attorney, mr. Murdock. “Uhh, I’ll call you back, Mel.” You put your phone to the side, helping the man sit on the chair in front of you. “I believe you’re Y/L/N, right? I wanted to talk to you about the DA, Tower.” He said, his voice confident and low. He was handsome, and somehow, he knew it. His chin was always high ahead, voice lingering over people’s minds. His hair a dark brown, eyes hidden by ruby red glasses. He was very attractive if we gotta be true, face like a painting. His tongue came out to lick his lips, waiting for you to answer. “Uh, yeah. What about him?” You snapped out of your trance . “I think he’s wrong in this situation. My client has the right to say that she didn’t murder them. But- ah. Sorry, you must’ve just gotten your lunch?” He asked. ‘How did he know?’ Eh, anyways. “Y-yeah. But it’s fine. Why do you think so, you sure?” You question. He told you that his business partner was going to give the best defence in court history, making you laugh. “Hey uhh, I know this makes no sense, but do you mind if you went on a dinner with me? J-just to change your mind of course.”he asked.

You questioned a bit but accepted, settling down to the same night.

It was 6pm, an hour away from your dinner with Matt Murdock, but you were nervous. Never choosing between a black dress that hugged your thighs and brang you luck or a dark red dress with a leg slip. You pondered for a while and put on the red dress, make up already done. ‘Why am I even doing this.He’s blind’ you asked yourself. But you felt good, confident, sexy , even. He made you feel that way.

You took your bag and shouted to Melanie in the bathroom “MELLS, You are gonna be gone till midnight, kay?” . You wanted the two of you to be alone if he actually came. Just in case. You heard her murmur something under the sound of loud music and took it as a “yess” or an “okayyugh “ .

Contently, you walked out with your small bag, wearing scandal black heels. ‘Tower wouldn’t be very happy to see me like this. Well, good that I’m going over to some unknown jazz house I guess.’ You thought as you got in the cab you called, almost singing the address he gave you.

As you walked up to the door he opened it for you. He looked magnificent, suit tidy and glasses that matched your dress. “Hi.” He said, grinning. “Hi hello” you said, voice drowning in the loud chello.

“Our table is somewhere over there. Apparently.” He stated , you giggling at his words.

The dinner went better than you thought, everything sweet and smooth . He gave you a couple reasons that his client didn’t commit the murder and you replied with a “I’ll think about changing my opinion, Murdock.” You guys talked about your work, craziest cases and where you went to university. And soon enough you guys were full of fries and enjoying the light music that twirled around the room, making the whole situation more romantic than it should’ve been. You agreed with him on some points and yes, there were some holes in Tower’s words but you still didn’t believe him.

“You know, it’s getting pretty late, we have a case to worry about tomorrow so uhh…” you hoped he would offer to escort you home. And maybe, just maybe he could read your mind in braille because that’s exactly what he asked to do.

You were chatting in the taxi, up until your apartment’s door and- god, his lips looked so kissable, soft and red. So beautiful, his whole figure was beautiful, broad shoulders and biceps that were hugged just right by his shirt.

Your heart skipped a beat as he leaned a little closer to you, magnified by each other. And in one moment of heavy breathing and a little luck, his hand caressed your face, pulled you in. The kiss was passionate, all teeth and tongue. You had thought about the attorney since you met him a few cases ago but never thought it would end like this. As he deepens the kiss, you let your hands wander through his hair , he pushed your apartment door open. His hands on your waist, neck, in your hair. He was everywhere, his cologne, the faint smell of Oakwood, warm coffee and light alcohol. As he walks you two through your apartment,you pull your legs against his waist and hold his neck for support, and as he gets your hint, his hands snake up to hold you at your thighs. Strangely enough, he found his way around your apartment better than you, especially for a blind. drunk. man that has never been at your place before. But you didn’t really care at that moment because his mouth on yours was the only thing you could think about and the way that his smell intoxicated you.

As he put you down on your couch, he took off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. And you? You were enjoying the sight of Matt Murdock and those rolled up sleeves. “I really would like to finish off this fine evening with maybe pleasing you?” his words sent a pleasing shiver down your spine “Of course, only if you’d like. I can leave anytime, just-” you stopped his babbling with another kiss, drawing him in by his tie. And that seemed to finish him off, because as he growled into the kiss, pushing your legs apart, the leg slip of your dress pulling up between your legs. “I’ll take that as a yes, then” he smiled through the kiss, pulling you to the edge of the couch. He pulled your dress up and took a breath, your natural smell invading him. And he fucking loved it. Pointing his attention to your now soaked panties, he licked his lips, his senses tasting you in the air. He moaned groaned at your smell, pushing your legs further apart and breathing you in.

Then he pushed your underwear out of the way and devoured the absolute shit out of you.

And as he did so, you let out the most obsene noises, little whimpers and whines, then desperate moans. He licked a long stripe up from your core to your now throbbing clit, relishing in the fact that you were oh so wet for him,tasting you and diving in you like a mad man. But you could tell he was also enjoying this, by the groans he let out, that made you thighs shake. You tried to suppress your noises, but he was having none of that. Painfully, he withdrew his head away from you cunt, looking in your general direction, grabbing your chin. “Try to be quiet again and see what happens.” Your bottom lip quivering, you made a mental note to be as vocal as possible. He lowered his face and delved into you again. Devouring you like a man starved, adding his god shaped- hands to the mix. One palm gripping your thigh, at the little crease right before your ass, other one snaking to you cunt. Relishing in the hot feel of his tongue on you, not expecting those two cold fingers prodding at your core. Silent laughs at the little gasps you dropped as his fingers entered you. You looked down at him, feeling him knuckle deep, snug in your tight pussy. His mouth closed around your clit and he started sucking. And there you were, sitting there, thinking ‘this is it. i died and i’m in heaven.’ until he started moving with his fingers. Stretching them, scissoring you made your brain clear out of everything, thick fingers curling to find your g-spot and abuse it. He was mumbling something unintelligible, the vibrations giving you that delicious friction .Feeling a tight knot grip your stomach, you tried to warn Matt , but all that you could mutter between moans was a weak “M-Mattyy… ‘mma..” before you were coming undone around his fingers. Letting you ride through your orgasm, he continued pumping his fingers in and out of you, slowing down the pace.

Murmuring praises, he kisses your clit, earning a jolt from your thighs and a mear whimper. Biting his way up your body, wasting time at your breasts, licking up the valley between them, until he was face to face with you, dark brown eyes unfocused and warm, the slight shimmer on his lips from your essence made you delve in. Kissing him, you tasted yourself on his tongue, salty and draft. Trying to get his belt off, you struggled, earning a chuckle from Matt. As he made quick work of sliding it through his hands and throwing it on the floor, pants following through. He towers over you, immediately making you feel small, causing blood to rush to your cheeks. He smirks, cradling your face in his hand. “Don’t get shy on me sweetheart, we’re jus’ getting started.” Pupils dilating, you look at his very obvious dick print, trying to figure out exactly how big he is. Almost answering your question, he takes the slacks off too, his impressive size slapping against his stomach. You feel your mouth salivating, but before you could get to your knees, he grabs your thighs, moving you to sit on top of his lap, crossing your hands to the couch behind his neck, trapping you in and suddenly all you can see, sense, feel was him, him, him.

He slowly slides your folds open with his tip, a wet squelch being heard. You whine, eliciting an amused sound and an “Eager, aren’t you, pretty thing?”, causing a moan to escape from within your throat. He slides in, the stretch burning slightly, making you let out a strangled sound. He stiffens, his hands gripping your thighs, holding you still. “Are you okay?” the words fade in front of your ears, the haze his dick put you in keeping you in your own Matt-Murdock-s-cock bubble. “Yeah… please. Please, Matt.” you let out a meak attempt to keep the moans in as he pushes in to the hilt, staying as still as he can. Once you feel stretched enough, you clench, once, hearing the groan (™️) that erupts from deeply in his chest. “Don’t tease me like that, fuuuuck…” Matthew grips at your ass, slowly moving you up and down, finding a rhythm the both of you could keep up. As soon as you feel confident enough, you push your sweaty face from his chest, where it had been lying till then. Gripping the headrest for dear life, you start slowly riding him, adjusting to his girth. Slowly letting your jaw fall, you can no longer contain the groans and whines of the lawyer’s name. A deep growl grows from his chest, the vibrations making you mewl on your own.

“Ma-atthew! I-” you attempt, but after hearing his searing “shh, I know sweetheart. J-just relax f’me.”, you let it come to you, drenching his cock in your juices, letting your head fall to his neck. You can feel him clenching his jaw, veins on his neck visible, as he painfully pulls out of you, releasing his load on his stomach. You stand there for a little while, letting each other catch their breath. You close your eyes for a little bit, letting yourself relax in his sticky, sweaty, but warming touch. Not later after that, you’re both cleaned up and in bed, cuddling. You don’t exactly know what that makes you two, but you don’t wish to worry about it right now. Not now. Not when his warm forearms are wrapped tightly around your stomach, leg draped over yours, securing you, in a way.

Some time in the night you’re woken up by a very low-toned Matt, saying something. "Your roomate just came home...drunk." Murmuring a curse, you cuddle deeper in his embrace, catching the warm chuckle that spreads through his chest and envades yours.

In the morning, you're waken up by an alarm, but it's not yours. Hearing a familiar groans, your eyes prickle with the sun beaming on you,and you crinkle a smile, seeing a very disheveled Matt Murdock trying to find his phone in the bundle of clothes you left from last night. Your door is bright open and Mellany springs through it, bringing both of you coffee, and with a bright smile on her face (and a wiggle of her eyebrows) gives you back the other golden hoop earring. You stand up, going to get your clothes, enjoying the silent morning, nothing too loud, which is weird, by the fact that the crappy apartment that you rented is in the heart of the real Hell's Kitchen.

"So... are we going to repeat this sometime?" you hear him, loud and clear. "We'll see how it goes, Murdock. But for now, we have a case to finish."

taglist : @moxkindagirl

#matt murdock #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader #daredevil #daredevil smut #i finally finished this #cue the addams family intro that im watching rn #alr #imma go back into my writer hibernation for the next 2 weeks and then flash out a 2 hour written smut #again with matt #I HAVE AN IDEA OKAY #I HAVE A VISION

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