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idesofrevolution · 4 months

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Father

Dad had been acting strange for quite some time. Honestly, it wasn't that noticeable in the beginning, which I suppose made it difficult to pinpoint when things started to change. I only started to notice maybe seven months or so ago after he turned down the daily Budweiser. Patrick O'Shaughnessy turning down his biggest vice? I knew something was off right then and there as he sat there, smiling at me from his armchair with the game on in the background: red flag number two, my stepfather had NEVER been a sports guy. Binging Fox News while fingering pudding cups, sure; but actually knowing what was happening in a football game?

I'd originally thought he'd perhaps found a side girl to cheat on my mom with. It was far from outside of his character to do something like that, if he'd ever be able to get his nasty ass out of the recliner for ten fucking minutes... He'd gotten too comfortable in his laziness. When my mom married him a year ago, he was already a piece of shit lardass who refused to do a single thing around the house, refused to work a normal job (he was waiting for a management position apparently), and above all refused to acknowledge me whatsoever. He was rude, crass, could never even so much as break a smile at me. And there, in that moment as his eyes made contact with mine and his lips curled into a smile, I knew something was wrong.

"What, no beer burps for me today?" I scowled at him, raising my eyebrow in a malicious curiosity.

"Nahh little man, I'm trying to cut down." Little man? He'd never gotten my name right let alone given me a nickname... We did not have that kind of relationship, at least one that would have an affectionate nickname for one another. "Say, I'm hittin' the gym in a couple minutes. Whaddya say you come along?"

"You're... you're going to the gym? Really?" I sat there slackjawed. Something was indeed off. What it was, I couldn't exactly tell. Nothing outside of his UberEats order would ever get Patrick out of the chair. He laughed at me, gripping his sizeable paunch beneath his stained tee shirt.

"You bet, bud. High time I set an example for my boy. How's he gonna respect a couch potato loser? You should come along. Nothin' like a father and son spending time together, especially in the gym. Get the boys lookin', right?" He stood up from his chair, grabbing his keys off the kitchen countertop as he headed toward his car. I, on the other hand, stood there with tunnel vision. Patrick was not the most supportive parent when it came to... well, anything. But the biggest bone of contention was me coming out to them last year. It was the biggest hullabaloo, Oscar worthy. Thrown glasses, flipped chairs, disownment, threats of eviction... the only thing that kept me in the house was my mother putting her foot down. It wasn't a big deal for her, but for him... I was the biggest embarrassment on the planet. What would Tucker Carlson think?

Yet as I stood there, staring at the cigarette-stained wall, my brain couldn't process what I'd just heard. 'Get the boys lookin' he said... As if he were trying to play wing man for me... What the fuck was happening? My heart fluttered the moment his words sank in, that was pride. It was something neither my father nor my stepdad ever had the courtesy of giving me. My walls were up, and I was beyond skeptical, so for my own peace of mind I had decided then and there to investigate.

From that day on, the moment I came home from school, I was spying. While most of my friends were trying to enjoy their senior year, going to parties or getting ready for college, I was at home peering behind corners at my stepfather. Over the first few months I watched with complete disbelief at the changes. Every single day, I'd come home, and he'd be on his way out to the gym. The normal scowl he'd gift me upon my entry was replaced with jovial smiles and hair ruffling as he schlepped his gym bag over his shoulder out the door. He'd be gone for two or three hours at least, and come home just before dinner dripping in buckets of sweat. I'd begun to avoid driving his car, as the stink of his sweat had completely inundated the fabric of the seats. He'd toss his bag on the floor by my book bag (gross), and plop down at the dinner table where he would ask genuinely about my day or sweetly flirt with my mom while winking at me. I still wasn't convinced. He kept asking me nearly every day if I'd come to the gym with him, if we could go shoot hoops at the park across the street, or if I'd play FIFA with him. Each time I'd shoot him down, he'd have a momentary break in that happy facade of his, as if it were hurting him I wasn't spending time with him.

Within five months or so, he was nearly unrecognizable. I guess protein shakes & a low carb diet really works on a guy: he'd lost nearly 70 pounds and gained about 20 in muscle alone. He'd struck up friendships with my school's wrestling coach and a couple of the neighbors, and we were finding ourselves invited to barbecues and block parties for the first time. I had to endure little hallway chats with Coach Weston about joining the wrestling team, as he was in talks with the school district about bringing my stepdad on as assistant coach. It was bizarre to me for many reasons, but one stood out above all: Patrick was never a wrestler. Not in college, not in high school, my mom even confirmed it one night at dinner. He'd brush it off as if it were something fun he were doing with 'Dane', which in and of itself was weird to hear the coach's first name used at all at home.

Sleep was getting difficult. My mind ran at a thousand miles an hour, but now he and mom had begun to fuck like rabbits. Loud, hard sex almost every other night with their bed slamming against my bedroom wall for hours. Mom of course was radiant at that point. The years of one piece of shit husband being a complete and total asshole, replaced by another piece of shit husband treating her like garbage melted away in the course of a couple of months of Patrick being a strangely brilliant partner. He'd started to cook us meals, he'd started to do the yardwork, he'd even fixed things around the house that had been broken for years. Sure, the sex seemed to help, but as she would say: "He's lessened my load so much, Jonas. I wish you'd give him a chance."

Sure, he was treating my mom well and that was a good enough reason for me to like him. Was it enough to trust him? No. I'd still turn down every single request to spend time alone with him. No gym. No basketball court. No gaming. Though, in one single concession for my mom's sake, I begrudgingly agreed to let him drive me to school in the morning. That one decision is what truly changed my life forever. I went to bed that night, putting on my earbuds to drown out their disgusting sex in the next room, less than eager for the fifteen minute drive the next day.

Thus, on that warm April day, my morning began as normal. Shower, dress, drink my morning smoothie, grab my bag, and walk out the door. It wasn't long before I was greeted by his chipper, dim witted voice shattering my peaceful morning.

"Ayy little man!" I sighed, turning toward the garage, where there he stood: shirtless and dripping sweat from his chiseled body. As a gay guy, I have to admit, it was hard not to stare. He had become quite a sight to behold. The other moms in the neighborhood certainly would sit and stare at him on his morning runs, even a couple of the dads as well, and now I sat there oogling the ripped, gleaming body he'd built.

"Hey, Patrick. Do you need to shower? I have to get going, but I can catch the bus if there's not enough time?" In my head, I was praying to God that he'd just hop in the shower he never seemed to take and I could go on my merry way. Though, no such luck.

"Nah, man! It's all good. I promised you I'd take you to school, so hop in the car!" I sighed, turning to his 1998 Mustang with a shiver cascading down my spine.

"Sure, Patrick." I dragged my feet headed toward his car. Opening the door, the humid, musky air within poured out of the car, punching me in the face with his scent. Imagine a noxious waft of butter, blue cheese, saltwater, and feet just drowning you. That was the stink that swamped his car, and him for that matter. I took one final breath of fresh air before I sat in the car and closed the door. He wasn't far behind, not even bothering to put a shirt on as he hopped in beside me.

"Alright! Let's get goin' bud!" He turned the key and the car roared to life. I sighed, thankful it was only fifteen minutes. As we pulled out of the driveway and onto the street, I turned on the radio, hoping to dissuade him from making some puerile small talk. We sat there in silence for a moment, before hitting the main road. "You know what, bud?" He turned to me, looking me up and down before rolling up the windows and turning off the radio. "Ahhh fuck it. We're playing hooky today."

"Wait, what?" I had no time to protest, before he turned onto the main road, but in the opposite direction from the school. "Patrick, I'm not playing hooky. I have to go to school." He laughed, ruffling my hair yet again.

"You gotta stop callin' me Patrick, Jonas. I don't have to be dad if you don't want, but Patrick is so... not me. Just call me Pat."

"Okay, PAT. I'm going to school." He turned to me, and his smile faded, letting out a solid sigh that would put mine to shame. He pulled over onto the shoulder, and put the car in park.

"Listen. I know you don't like me. I know you don't trust me, and I get it. I made a lot of changes to him very quickly, and it's hard to keep up." Him? Why did he say it like that? "I'd been watching you just suffer endlessly for years, man. All the time. I just wanted you to have a good role model for once. A man you could lean on, and not some shitty lard who talks bad to ya."

"What the fuck are you on about?" My patience had worn too thin for my calm veneer to bear. He turned the key, and the engine quickly died.

"C'mon bro. You know something's different about him, right? I know you've been watchin' me like a hawk. Think I haven't noticed you watchin' me from around the hall corner? You think I don't know you're creepin' while I beat one out huffin' my strap? I know, dude. I've always known. C'mon, man." Pat threw his hands in the air in frustration, the first time since his attitude adjustment that I'd seen anything like it. But, this was different. It wasn't rage, it was exasperation.

"Okay, Pat. So you saw me watching you. Can you please tell me what the fuck is going on now?" He slowly rested his sweaty head against the headrest, and sighed. Then, a chuckle. Then another, until he was full on laughing. "What!?"

"Ahhh, man. I never thought I'd see the day you'd man up and come to. Yeah, Jonas. I can tell you what the fuck is going on." I sat back, confounded- even more so than before. "My name was Matt Wilde. Way back in the day, I used to wrestle for Palm Heights High. Was pretty damn good at it too, but one day I got pinned just a little too hard and poof."

"Matt Laurent? What the fuck are you talking about, Pat? Are you high?" His dumb laugh threw him back in the seat.

"Nah, I finished that joint earlier, man. Stone sober now. But, safe to say for the past 50 years I've been just hoppin' body to body. Started with a couple of my teammates just so I could finish out the years, wrestle a bit more. Got bored, hung around the gym, in and out of some lug heads. Did a stint in some Libertines, that was fun as fuck. But man, I saw you sulkin' around the school for the past three years and thought, damn that kid looks sad. So, I may have eavesdropped a bit, maybe caught a bit about your dead beat, piece of shit dad; then right after he ditches, Mom lands this fuckin' winner." He slapped his chest, little droplets of his sweat landing on my bewildered face. "Oh shit, my bad." I sat there, slackjawed, completely disoriented as he dumbly wiped his sweat off my nose and cheek.

"You... you're dead?" He snapped his fingers, winking and smirking at me.

"Bingo, bud. Right on the money. I was like, I'm in a very unique situation here to fuckin' do something this. So, I slipped into this dumbass and just stuck around. Did the work. Tried, emphasis on TRIED, to be like the Dad I had and that you deserve, ya know? Haven't made it fuckin' easy, but... ahhh. That's parenthood, am I right?" I scoffed, he must have taken some damn good drugs. I was convinced. There was no way!

"Okay, then. MATT. So, if you're some dead jock bro possessing Pat, where the fuck is he?" He pondered for a moment in silence, shrugging his shoulders.

"I think he's gone, bro. I haven't stayed in a dude this long, I used to hear him bitchin' and moanin' all the time, but he went silent a couple of weeks ago." Fuck, I wish that were true. I had to admit, even if only in my mind, this Matt-Patrick was lightyears better than Patrick Patrick. Sure, he was dumb, he was every stereotype dudebro in the book, he smelled like he bathed in sweat baths... But, for the first time in my life, he wanted to be around me. He wanted to spend time with me. He made an effort. He... liked me. The mental gymnastics needed to make sense of the situation was growing too monumental to comprehend, but in that moment as he sat there with his dumb fucking grin on his face as if I was going to just completely buy it, I started to hope it was true.

"So, what now, Matt? Are you just gonna keep fucking my mom and prentending to be my Dad for the rest of your life? Or are you gonna hop out and ditch us?" He raised his eyebrow in genuine confusion.

"I mean, yeah that was the plan. One, your mom is fuckin' hot and she's better than any girl I've ever been with. Two, I kinda like our little family. Three, I ain't ditchin' ya, bro. You had enough of that shit for one lifetime. Besides, I gotta get you to chill the fuck out one way or another, so I was hoping we could give it a shot. Like I've been beggin' man." 'Matt' put his hands together as if praying, pleading to me. I suppose it wouldn't be the worst thing. It's better than coming home every day to spy on him, and it's way better than being the sad wallflower all the fucking time. Besides, those dumb fucking puppy dog eyes...

"You know what? Sure, Matt. What did you have in mind?" I could barely finish my sentence before he'd twisted the key and slammed on the gas. The man drove like a bat out of hell through town, hooting and hollering in victory as if he'd won a match.

"Hell fuckin' yeah, man! Dude we're gonna be so tight, it's gonna be awesome. You're gonna be so fuckin' sexy, the dudes are gonna be on their knees by the time we're done! Slobberin' on that dick like SLURPEDY SLURP! WOO!" So fuckin' dumb. Dumb as a box of rocks. But I couldn't help but crack a smile as he swerved left and right, shouting at the top of his lungs. "Let's get you sweatin' man. We can get you pumpin' iron, playin' ball... I'm burning everything you got in your closet, bro. Nobody wants polos and button ups, man. Gettin' you some J's, some good jocks. Oh, how do you feel about chains?"

"Matt, dude. I'm not like you. That's all well and good for you, but I can't pull that shit off..." He slammed on the brakes and a cavalcade of horns from behind us rang out like a brass band. Matt whipped his gaze to me in shock.

"Don't say that, bro! You could be a bona fide stud! Look at you, man!" A couple of hard slaps against my bony chest and a harsh wheeze later, perhaps it sank in a bit. "Aight, well we have some work to do. I mean, if you're up for it." He smirked at me, lifting up those massive arms and flexing. His veins bulged from his massive bicep, the wet hairs in his ripe pits wafted that pungent scent I'd regrettably started to secretly love... Yeah, maybe I did want it.

"I don't know how, man. If I were like you, I bet I could." As if a cartoon lightbulb flickered to life above his head, I saw the spark of inspiration hit him like a sack of bricks. That stupid smirk grew into a wide, toothy grin.

"Aight, bro. Haven't tried this before, but I'll give it a go." He clapped his hands together, rubbing them gently. "I saw Jimmy Morales do this once when he needed a spotter. Gotta ask, though. You trust me, right?" I sat there and wondered if I did. I'd pretended up until this point that I believed every word that had come out of his mouth. This insane, psychotic story. It was nuts. It was crazy. But that little voice in the back of my head, deep down in the dark recesses of my brain decided to finally speak up.

"Yeah, Matt. I trust you."

"ALRIGHT! Fuck yeah, man. Oh shit, this is gonna be great! Okay, so don't freak out, just trust me and let it happen, okay? It doesn't hurt, the dudes usually bust a nut after it's all over." I heard a squelching rumble from in his stomach: wet, guttural, as if he were getting ready to vomit. Which became more and more likely as I saw a lump start to make it's way up his throat.

"Matt..." His body began to shudder and quake, his veins bulging and head thrashing from side to side. Then, from between his lips, a glowing blue vapor began to slip out. It was tiny at first, a little tail whipping about, before more and more of it started to bellow out of his mouth. Slick, bulbous, translucent. I had mere seconds of watching it slither out before it darted right into my own slack jaw. It squirmed as it wriggled from his body into mine, slurping deep into my bulging stomach. The feeling of fullness overtook me, watching more and more of the rubbery thing enter me, squeezing into every available inch within me, and he was right: it felt good. It felt like an eternity, but in reality it was just moments. The last of suctioned into me, and the world went black.

---

I woke the next morning in my bed. Shooting straight upright in a puddle of sweat. I rubbed my hands on my face, running my fingers through my drenched hair. What a fuckin' dream. I groaned as doubled over in pain. I felt like I was hit by a train. Everything hurt, a soreness unlike anything I'd ever experienced before radiated from every fiber of my being. Then, a soft caress of the nostril. Salty, buttery, funky... I raised my arm, finding the culprit immediately.

"Fuck!" I spat out, before taking a deep breath, another hit. "Fuuuuck..." Another inhale, a familiar stink, a comforting stink. What started as gentle whiffs quickly turned into full on huffing. I buried my nose in my pit, letting the wet jungle lather my face in my own sweat.

"Morning, bro. Good shit, ain't it?" The words echoed in my head, a soft, rippling little voice from within my brain. I should have been alarmed, terrified, even. But no, the words felt like gospel to me. "We really went to town yesterday, man. I had you liftin' like an Olympian. Take it easy. Here, I'll be right there, I got just the thing for it!" My hands started to drift southward, beneath the waistband of the teal sweats I didn't own... Were they... Pats? The door to my room burst open mid-huff, and in walked the hulking tower himself with a tray in hand.

"Goooood Morning, Kiddo! I made ya a protein shake, good recovery breakfast after a workout sesh like we had! Oh, your Mom made eggs!" He walked over to the side of my bed, kicking the Jordans I'd borrowed from him to the side. Wait, when did I do that? "Eat up, champ. Those 'ceps aren't gonna feed themselves!" Slamming the tray down onto my thighs, I let out a groan of pain.

"Pat? Dude, I had the weirdest dream." Dude? I never say dude. I cupped my hand, slick with sweat and pre over my mouth, aghast at the words coming out of my mouth. Pat smiled, grabbing the shake and handing it to me. "Drink up, my dude. For real, you're gonna be in a world of hurt otherwise." The voice boomed in my head, HIS voice. But his lips hadn't moved an inch. "Pat..." I ripped the sheets off of me, sure enough, I was sporting his nasty sweatpants & drenched socks. Cupping my manhood was most definitely his grimy jockstrap. "Hey, if we were gonna have the best workout, I had to be comfortable, bro! I knew you'd get it, though." I looked at him, a tight lipped smile, as if he were proving to me he weren't talking to me. "Feels good, right! I told ya! Just think, bro. With a half of me in there, you're gonna be unstoppable." I smiled. A genuine fuckin' smile, for the first time in as long as I could remember. I watched as my hand gripped the shake, bringing it to my lips of it's own accord. Downing the vanilla shake, our eyes met, and I understood completely. Matt winked at me, ruffling my hair, and sauntered back out of the door.

I leaned back in my bed, throwing my arm behind my head. The musk drifting from my pits and feet, identical to my dad's. Smirking, I let my fingers drift down to my growing meat in its slimy pouch, knowing fully well that I was in damn fine hands.

---

So that brings us to today, I guess! One year to the day. One full year since I finally let Dad in. 'Pat' sure did join the wrestling team as assistant coach, bringing his son in tow, eager to finish my senior year with at least a title. Thanks to him, I made varsity after the first fuckin' tryout. Can't say it was all me, all the time, but after a while it was. Honestly, it all started to blend together. Me at the wheel, him at the wheel, soon it sort of blurred and it was just me. That last semester was the best of my whole fucking life. Parties, bodybuilding, skating with the boys, fuckin' the boys... Shit, it was the time of my fuckin' life.

And after every day at school, or at least after every post-practice locker room blow job, I couldn't wait to get home and smash some Call of Duty with the old man. Mom would always come in, making comments on how we seemed as if I'd become a mini-Pat. Finishing eachother's sentences, drinking the same beer, wearing the same kind of clothes... she'd always put our sneaks outside the garage door, "they even stank the same." Little did she know just how much of the same person we really were.

I've decided to stick around the house for a year or so before maybe headed to college. I don't know, family is here, friends are here, Coach Weston should be retiring in a year or two... so there should be an opening for a new assistant coach on the wrestling team. Besides, I may have landed quite the catch in the boyfriend department, and I really want him to meet my dad, I have a feeling they'll get along just fine.

#male transformation #body transformation #male possession #original #transformation #jockification #musk #body possession #musky #gay transformation #wrestler #ghost possession #familial transformation #father to son #himboization #himbofication #partial possession

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charmedbystars · 11 months

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besitos (e-42 miles morales)

pairing: e-42 miles x reader

summary: just a night alone with you and miles.

content: kissing, making out, use of mami, and sassy men.

you and miles were just chilling since it was one of those nights that miles didn’t have to do anything or ‘work’ at night. you were glad you guys got together this time together since he’s been super busy lately.

earlier you were watching movies and forced him to binge-watch three disney princess movies in one sitting. of course, you heard grumbling from him, but nothing else since he can’t resist you. anything you say will have him saying yes even if he rolls his eyes or pretends to be annoyed.

later on, you guys moved to his room to just lay on his bed to cuddle. he was laying on his back while you were on his chest with your head looking off to the side watching tiktoks. scrolling for a couple minutes, you felt a burning gaze on the top on your head. looking up, who else would it be other than miles?

“miles, i can literally feel your eyes burning my brain. i know i’m smarter than you but please don’t try to laser my brain cells from my brain jeez,” you squinted your eyes at him. he gave you nothing but an eye roll back. “oh my gosh, please save me from this sassy man apocalypse.”

“what? i can’t stare at my girl?”

“i never said that miles but what are you even looking at? are you trying to count each strand of my hair?” saying that earned you another eye roll. he grabbed your phone from your hand and shut it off.

now you got it. he just wanted your attention, but he has too much pride to ask. adjusting yourself from his chest to sitting up on his lap, you stare down at him. “ayy papito, if you wanted my attention, why not just ask?” and before he could retort, you grabbed his face with both hands and squished it making him look like a fish. he tried to talk while his face was squished but it came out undetectable.

“milesssss, you look so cute like this. i like you this way too so i can’t hear your sassy mouth too,” his brows furrowed making him look like a pouty baby. he can look as mad as he wants, but he is making no moves to move your hands from his face.

giggling, you lean down to kiss his fish (still smushed up) lips. one peck, two pecks, and three pecks later, you continue kissing him with very short pecks. abruptly, you feel hands come up to the back of your neck and press your lips into his for a while. because he caught you off guard, you let go of his face allowing him to kiss you for a while. seconds turn into minutes and that kiss turns into making out. sliding a tongue in your mouth, you let out a sigh and relaxed even more into the makeout if possible. you forgot all about the giggling and the sassy man in front of you and focused on the sensation that is miles. hands slip up and squeezed your thighs while your hands cupped his jaw. pulling back to catch your breath, you look down at your pretty boyfriend. licking your lips and breaking the string of saliva that connected you both, you broke into a smile.

“you’re so cute, i can’t believe you’re mine.”

“first of all, i am not cute. second of all, you best believe it because you’re all mine and i’m not letting go mami.”

“good because i’m not letting you go to any other ratty girl, you’re allllllll mine.”

“i know mami, i know.”

his hand made it to the back of your head pulling it down to his chest. looking up at him, you see him close his eyes and feel his breath slow down. doing the same, you get comfortable on his chest and close your eyes. while drifting off, all you can hear is his heartbeat. you thank anyone out there in the universe that allowed you to be with miles. sassiness and all.

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messysketchyobeyme · 5 months

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You watch as the credits from the last movie of your movie marathon quickly scrolls past the TV screen. You catch a few familiar names of demon actors that you have learned thanks to Asmodeus teaching you about the Devildom’s celebrity sphere. (It was a very interesting dive into Devildom culture, in your opinion, even though Lucifer begged to differ).

The screen fades to black, delving the room into darkness. Mammon lays curled into your side, like he had been since the last two or so movies. His face is pressed into your shirt. You aren’t even sure he had watched the last thirty minutes of this last one.

You card your fingers through Mammon’s hair. You had started half-way through the marathon and hadn’t found a reason to stop for any particularly long duration of time. His hair is silky and thick, which made it hard for you to resist the temptation of playing with it. You twist the locks of hair with your index finger, taking care not to tug on the strands.

Mammon hums in content, tilting his head to give you easier access. You scratch the base of his head and note the way he scrunches up his shoulders in response. He was making it harder and harder for you to stop, but, alas, all good things must come to an end.

You stretch out your arm, as pins and needles dart up your fingers. You shake out the uncomfortable feeling and reach toward the remote to turn off the TV. “Well, that was fun, but I’m beat,” you say, “How about we call it a night?”

Before you can pick up the remote, Mammon lets out a small whine. He gently grasps your wrists and places your hand back on his head.

You laugh and reflexivity begin massaging the crown of his head. “You’re feeling needy, huh?”

Mammon grumbles something that you can’t quite parse before sighing. “Maybe I wouldn’t be like this if ya weren’t leaving me tomorrow.”

You quiet down. You know why Mammon had invited you to hole yourself up in his room to binge-watch all of his and your favorite movies with your favorite snacks and your favorite games in case you got bored. You know why he had been glued to your side practically all day and why he had seemed to be quiet throughout the entire marathon. You had been trying to avoid it the entire time, but that’s impossible.

“It’s not my choice, Mammon.”

“I know,” he says, “I know.” Mammon is quiet for a bit. You listen to the steady tick of his clock. It’s a harsh reminder of the continuous passage of time, but it is still comforting all the same. After a while, he speaks up again. “Do ya mind if we stay like this for a little longer?”

“Of course I don’t mind.” You wrap your arms around Mammon, dragging him into a tight squeeze of a hug.

He hugs you back, harder than you ever could. His fingers flex against your torso, pressing into your sides. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, and you feel the hot tears run down your skin. You wonder if he’d never let go if he had the choice.

#obey me #obey me mc #obey me mammon #mammon x mc #drabble

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haddonfieldwhore · 1 year

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tired - ethan landry

no spoilers 🔪 // pre ghostface attacks

warnings: none 💓 just fluff 🧸

click here for a soft ethan playlist 🎧

your eyes felt like they were going to dry up and fall out of your skull as you stared at the many papers spread out across the floor in front of you. you were at your friend ethan’s dorm to study for your econ final together, and after about 3 hours, you decided you had retained all the information you could for one night.

“e, i think i’m tapping out,” you sighed, closing your book and dramatically flopping onto your back, laying amongst all the notes you had taken in class.

“me too. i think i’ve been staring at the same word on a page for the last five minutes,” he laughed, shoving his textbook off his lap and onto the bed next to him. “wanna watch a movie? chad went out so the living room is free.”

“sure,” you agreed, and he got up off his bed and reached out his hand to help you up off the floor. you and ethan had met at the start of college, and quickly became friends after sitting together the first day in class. the two of you always studied together, usually in the library or at ethan’s dorm; your roommate partied a lot and often had all their friends over so it was too loud to study there. ethan and his roommate chad didn’t seem to mind welcoming you into their dorm though, which you were grateful for.

chad was in almost every way, a stereotypical jock, but he was harmless, and was nice to you whenever you spoke to him. he often wasn’t home, usually out with his friends or at their place. you and ethan rarely joined them, both of you preferring to stay in, watching movies or binging tv shows when you weren’t studying.

“what movie are we watching tonight?” you asked, grabbing a glass of water from the kitchen and walking back to the couch where ethan was sat, a selection of dvds spread out in front of him.

“hmmm.. jaws?” he suggested. after a nod of approval from you, ethan put the disc in the player and sat back down. he tossed you a blanket he had brought from his room, and switched off the lamp next to the couch as the movie started. getting comfortable, ethan pulled the hood of his pale coloured sweater over his brown hair, and he offered his lap for you to rest your legs on. you were thankful, as your knees had become stiff from sitting cross legged on his bedroom floor for hours. his arms rested on top of your legs, keeping them warm and making sure you didn’t fall off the couch somehow.

it was only about 30 minutes into the movie when you felt your eyelids getting heavy, and the warmth of the blanket was making it hard to stay awake. no matter how hard you tried not to, you eventually fell asleep, not able to fight it any longer.

•••••

the sound of the door opening caused you to wake up slowly, and you were confused at first to feel a weight on top of you. at some point, ethan had also fallen asleep, his arms around your waist and his head buried in the crook of your neck. you could feel his soft breathing against your skin, and you realized how comfortable you were. chad hadn’t noticed that you were awake, since the lights were low and he was trying to be quiet since he thought you were both asleep.

after he had gone into his room, you gently laced your fingers through ethan’s curls, his hood having come off in his sleep. he stirred slightly, but didn’t wake up, instead holding onto you tighter. his lips and nose brushing against your clavicle as he snuggled closer to you. a sleepy smile spread across your face as you sighed deeply, and you realized how content you were to just be in his arms. ethan truly had become your best friend; you had left all of your friends behind when you moved across the county to go to college in new york. you didn’t know anyone here, and you were so thankful to have met ethan.

ethan awoke as you gently stroked his hair, your fingers gliding through the soft ringlets slowly pulling him from his sleeping state. he groaned softly, lifting his head off your chest and realizing the position you were both in.

“hey- sorry,” he mumbled, his voice deep with sleep. “i didn’t think i was that tired.” he rubbed his eyes as he sat up, and you immediately missed his body heat. in the low lit room you almost couldn’t see that there was a light pink blush across his cheeks.

“it’s okay. neither did i,” you smiled, tugging gently at the soft fabric of his hoodie sleeve. “come back.” you pouted. ethan smiled, laying back down next to you, tucking your head into his neck this time. happy to have his warmth back, you hummed contently and closed your eyes, nuzzling into his neck.

“i’m so gonna fail that econ exam,” you thought aloud, and ethan laughed, and you felt it vibrate it his chest.

“that’s okay- you can come over and study for the makeup test with me; i think i’m gonna fail too.”

“we can fail together,” you mumbled. growing sleepy again. as you both lay in silence now, you absentmindedly pressed a soft kiss to the underside of ethan’s jaw. he tensed slightly underneath you, before he relaxed again humming slightly as he pressed a kiss to your forehead in return. at that moment it didn’t matter what it meant, the half asleep kisses likely to be forgotten by both of you in the morning.

“goodnight, eeth.” you whispered, but all you got in response was the sound of his soft snores, which quickly lulled you back to sleep. ☁️

#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry imagine #ethan #ethan landry fanfiction #ethan landry one shot #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry #jack champion #jack champion fic #scream #scream 6 #fluff

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chrollohearttags · 6 months

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THEY DON’T KNOW | e. jaeger

synopsis: your life and relationship in the spotlight seemed nothing short of perfect..that was until everyone else convinced you otherwise.

content + themes: slight angst, engagement/proposal, musician eren x influencer reader ofc, fluff, drama, mentions of infidelity, kissing, brief mentions of suggestive things, nothing heavy, just a sweet story for my favorite ship

word count: 3.2K

📝: this is for my sweet @honeybleed ‘s 90-00’s R&B collab event! (I’m a little late to the party, I’m so sorry about that! 😭) Congratulations to you again on 600, my love. You deserve every bit and so much more!

SONG 🎧: They Don’t Know • Jon B.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° .** . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° .** . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•

noise…it all seemed so much louder than usual nowadays. Everything sounded so much more amplified now matter how hard you fought to drown it out. The music thudding from the speakers on stages that you danced on, the rain droplets splattering against your window pane and lately…the opinions of every envious naysayer and supposed friend alike.

Telling you that your relationship was a moot point. A mere sham and that in due time, it’d come crumbling to its core. Regardless how strong the foundation was between the two of you, outside forces could still cause it to shatter at any moment. But that was only if you allowed it. You couldn’t escape it either…every other scroll and headline on every media outlet was a photo of you two..some flashy shot of you two kissing and holding hands. Appearing happily in love, only to be followed by droves of comments full of negative and downright nasty things about you guys. Saying that it would never work and you were only a temporary thing who ‘just so happened to make it further than the rest..’ it certainly wasn’t a vote of confidence considering you were about to spend the rest of your life together. For the better part of three years, you had come to know and love the renowned artist, EJ the Don. A man who’s music transcended all of time and pushed boundaries..a generational talent with exceptional skill. At least those were the words used to describe him by a plethora of magazines over the years. On the contrary, others would acclaim that he was a bit of a playboy. That he hurt people at will with no regard for their feelings..sabotaging relationships purposefully so that he was no longer bound to them. He didn’t care about anyone other than himself.

However, you knew otherwise. EJ, as far as you were concerned, was an entirely different entity of itself. You had fallen for Eren..the man who’d leave the studio at night tired and exhausted but still managed to have fresh flowers and your favorite treats in hand. The man who’d curl up with you on rainy days and binge movies. The Eren you loved would comfort you relentlessly until you were far batter. Making you laugh and cheer up with the dumbest jokes..that’s the kind of person he was. So it came without question, when one night on the rooftop of a hotel in Greece; surrounded by fluorescent blue lights, a lavish table filled with wine and rose petals next to the serene pool waters where he asked you to be his wife, you’d immediately accept. Saying yes faster than he could get the proposal out. You were elated to not only spend the rest of your life with him but share the exciting news with the world and those you loved. To your surprise though, you weren’t met with the warm reception that you had pictured in your head.

once the announcement came, the rumors followed and there was no escaping them. Even so called friends were hesitant. Telling you that he used to go with this model and date this girl so it was best to watch out. Some even suggested calling the whole thing off to spare you from future heartache...and you’d be lying if you said that they hadn’t worn you down. That you hadn’t wondered if there was a bit of truth to them. But if there was anything he was dedicated to doing, it was setting your mind at ease and proving all of them wrong.

“…room for one more?”

the voice ringing from earshot and sending flutters throughout the pit of your belly. You’d flip over onto your side with a faint beam as your fiancé made his way over to you. “For you? Anytime..” Kneeling into the mattress as he brushes a hand along your bare shoulder blade, leaning forward to place a kiss on your temple. It seemed that the effects of the dreary, rainy day had taken its toll on him as well. Sporting a pair of sweats and a tank top, indicating that he was finished with his work for the day and ready to relax with the one person who brought him serenity. Ironically, there was something rather tranquil about weather like this..whereas most people saw it as something negative; a literal damper in their plans, some took it as an opportunity to purify themselves. Not so much in a literal regard but it was perfect to just lie here and let all of those feelings that normally wouldn’t make their way to the forefront be known. Coiling one of those toned, tattooed arms around (y/n)’s covered torso, Eren began to mumble into your skin..simultaneously leaving gentle pecks along your arm. “This rain kinda sucks, doesn’t it? It’s so depressing..” “..yeah..it is.” The dryness in your response caused an immediate alarm for your fiancé. That was the thing with Eren..even when it seemed as if he were completely nonchalant and not paying you much attention, he focused on the smallest details and kept note.

there were things about you that he had noticed early on in your relationship and still to this day, could remember them better than you could. “I see it’s already working on someone…” making an attempt at a light hearted joke and even smirking afterwards, hoping that his humor would bring at least a faint smile to your face. He hated seeing you like this..hated knowing that something was obviously bothering you and you wouldn’t tell him the cause. In fact, he picked up on it three days ago when he saw you sitting outside near the pool, glaring off into space at what seemed to be nothing. In the same regard, he wasn’t the type to pry..he knew how irksome he felt when someone pestered him so he figured it best to wait for an opportune moment to confront you. Now seemed like as good of a time as any. He never did well with communicating his feelings either so he used jokes and humor as a means to break the proverbial ice. But luckily, he wouldn’t need some awkward segway because you’d ask him something that would make his stomach turn.

“..do you think we did the right thing?”

admittedly and rightfully so, he was a little confused. What ‘right thing’ were you referring to exactly?

“As in what?”

“Getting engaged..moving in together. Are we really meant to be here?” The words seemed to be spilling from between your lips as if they had been sitting there for quite some time. It was a little insulting nonetheless. As if you had waited for this exact moment. But he’d be lying if he said that they hadn’t stung a bit. He figured the two of you were equally yoked and on the same page. Happy to be marrying your forever person. At least that’s what he felt..were you having doubts? Did you not love him as much as he loved you? What had he done wrong? Swallowing the hard lump that had instantly formed in his throat, Eren proceeded to ask questions, seeing if he could maybe get through to you to figure out what was wrong.

“Is there something that would make you think different? I mean, personally..I’ve never been so sure about anything in my life. Honestly, it still doesn’t feel real..”

for a moment, he began to reminisce on the moments leading up to the night he popped the question. Searching relentlessly for the perfect ring..enlisting the help of his best friends and even your girls to ensure that it was one that you’d love. He took extra special care to make the night unforgettable. Eren had even flown to go see his mom to ask for the gift she had given him years ago that he now wanted to give to you..if that wasn’t enough, he’d even taken you to your granny’s grave and asked for her blessing of sorts. He was a wreck, even crying because he was so happy and wanted her to know that he’d take care of you from now on..for the first time in his young twenty seven years, he was truly grateful and he wanted nothing more than to be the ideal man for you. A husband that you’d be proud of..one that you bragged to your friends about over lunch, one that you’d dip out on plans early to get back to. That was the type of relationship he had envisioned; one where nothing else mattered when you two were together. Now it seemed that you were having reservations..

“I’m so scared…” Just then, the sounds of your words were muddled by whimpers. He had no idea that you were this conflicted by the matter..and if so, why not say something?! Flipping you over, he’d be met with your beautiful brown eyes that always seemed to burst with love and excitement were welling with tears that were only moments from spilling. Brushing your cheek, Eren gazed upon you with a worried expression over taking his face. How could he have been so dumb?..here you were hurting and he hadn’t even clocked it. “Why, baby? I don’t understand..of what?” Truth was, you were afraid of marriage in general but even more so, if not being what you envisioned. You were afraid of things not being picturesque and perfect. That you’d wake up one day and end up just like the rest of the girls he’d supposedly dumped. Discarded to the wayside after he grew tired of them. You didn’t want everyone to be right about the two of you! Another passed around Instagram model with nothing of substance to offer, a philandering rapper with commitment issues..the headlines were certain to be brutal. But above all else..you only wanted to do this once. You only ever wanted to walk down that aisle one time in your life. You loved this man more than anything in this world so the last thing you wanted was to take his hand in marriage only to be sliding that ring off a few years down the road. It was a sacred thing and you never wanted to lose sight of that.

“Of this..of us not working out. I mean, I love you so much and there’s nothing I want more than to be your wife but everywhere I turn, it seems like somebody wants the opposite. As if we’re not meant to be. I thought everyone would’ve been as happy as we are. But it’s always something..”

granted, he was no stranger to the gossip either. Between his fangirls and the blogs, they wouldn’t give you a break. They were furious that someone had snatched up their precious EJ and it was some girl who seemingly came out of nowhere. According to them, you weren’t his type, you couldn’t possibly love him the way he deserved and there were at least ten other women who were more fit to take your position. It was insane. Although he was never much for social media and its sick antics, he’d done his fair share of defense for you. Which spoke volumes. After a while, he rid himself of all accounts and focused solely on you. Despite it being how you made your living, he wished you’d do the same. He couldn’t imagine petty accusations with zero basis being the reason that he lost you. It would crush him, truly. Even so, he’d done as he always had at times like these and pulled you close to his chest, swaddled you in those muscular arms and peppered your forehead with gentle kisses.

“Do you remember the first night we met? At the club?” It seemed like such an odd time to be going down memory lane but that’s how Eren was..he could tolerate a lot of things but seeing you cry was not one of them. So he wanted to try a different approach.

“I couldn’t forget. I had such a good time..”

“So did I..hell, I was so nervous around you, I almost messed up my whole performance that night.” The two of you break into a small fit of laughter as you look back on the antics of your earlier days together. The wild nights, the hookups, the tension leading up to you making things official..it was all a journey. You’d find yourself giggling as he held you close to him. You seemed far more comfortable and vulnerable now; able to express your feelings more freely. Which was a great thing for him.

“Please..I couldn’t even concentrate. You kept teasing me and shit. I don’t know how I made it through that without embarrassing myself.” But alas, he’d think it was cute. Watching you stumble over your words, seeing you squeeze your thighs together when he switched up those steamier lyrics to fit you and when he ran a finger underneath your chin, you nearly collapsed! Being on stage with your celebrity crush was not for the weak..

“Yeah, but you did and do you remember what everyone was saying after that? All the bullshit they said about us?” It was something you’d never forget, truthfully. For days after, the infamous photo of you guys hugged up on a lounge couch in the VIP section circulated the web for an entire week. There were countless headlines, alleging that you two were an item, that you were hooking up..the game of telephone had become so terrible that three days later, stan accounts and grown adults alike had concocted stories of you two having sex backstage and him doing inappropriate things right there in front of everyone. Even so called ‘witnesses’ backed up the claims. Naturally, all of it was false but it still didn’t stop people from running with whatever narrative they saw fit. Despite the fact that prior to that appearance, you’d never ever laid eyes on this man, less known did all of the things they accused you of. You were complete strangers..again, it stopped no one’s rumor mill from running!

“Yeah..I do. All of it just sounded like people had too much time on their hands.”

but his point wasn’t quite driven home yet..still clutching you, he’d chuckle once more and just nod. “Mhm..and what about when we first started dating? Remember the dumb shit they said then?” Once again, you’d answer his question, giggling when you recalled how stupid it all was. From the accusations of him being nothing more than a pay pig for some lavish lifestyle they claimed you were flexing online. Or that he wasn’t really faithful because he did a show with a former ‘partner’, who was nothing more than a PR stunt to begin with. Nevermind the fact that she was a lesbian! “Like when they said you were cheating on me with your ex? Trust me, I couldn’t escape that one even if I wanted to.” “Which was crazy because she was way more interested in you than me. Even asked me for your number..” seeing his expression furrow into a silly pout and you couldn’t hold it together another second. You’d burst into laughter at the thought. “I’m serious! She got mad because I didn’t bring you with me..must think I’m stupid or sum’. Little Miss Hoes always pulled more girls than I ever could.” The mental image of a one hundred thirty pound, five foot four blonde stealing his potential prospects had you rolling around and in much better spirits. “You’re a mess, you know that?” Which was his one and only goal.

“Well I’m glad somebody found my lack of game funny.” But truthfully, the only woman he wanted was right here. Which was the entire point of this little roundabout trip down memory lane..it didn’t matter what happened back then or what people claimed to know about him..he only cared about what was to come. The life, the future that he was building with you trumped over anything that they could say. They didn’t know how drastically he had changed for you. How he was hopelessly in love..how much softer and compassionate he had become so he was a better man for you. Even when you weren’t around, his beloved (y/n) was the topic of conversation..oftentimes, his boys would make fun of him for how much of a ‘simp’ he had grown to be. How his voice changed in pitch when you were on the phone, his eyes radiating whilst talking to you..it was the cutest thing! So if there was one thing he knew for certain, it was that he was all in. He had no regrets or doubts about asking you to marry him. He was ready. Anybody from his past was a mere afterthought and he wasn’t missing out. All he could do was pray that you felt the same. Turning your head towards him, EJ looked you directly in the eyes and began to speak.

“Listen, princess..I know it isn’t easy. Being with someone like me. I’m not perfect..not by a long shot. Truth is, I was really selfish back in the day. I wasn’t thinking about anybody but myself. Hell, until you came along, I still didn’t. I had always told myself I’d never let anyone get close to me just so I didn’t have to worry about another person. Marriage, dating..seemed like a foreign concept to me..” this was the first time in his life where he was able to be vulnerable..where he could lay all of his emotions bare. Intertwining your fingers together, Eren pulled them close and placed gentle kisses across your knuckles. A comforting tactic for the both of you.

“But right now...there’s nothing else I want more than to be your husband. To keep making more of these memories..(Y/N), I couldn’t imagine doing this without you. I can’t take back what I’ve done or who I was. And I’m so sorry that you’ve had to be on the receiving end of it. But I don’t care about what happened back then or what they say about us. I love you..I love you so damn much. Please believe me when I say that.” By this point, faint traces of tears began to stream once more. You were no longer sad, hurt or worried but rather..relieved. Relieved that his heart was equally devoted to this as yours. You’d do whatever it took to make this work. Outside interferences and opinions aside..

“And I love you more, Eren. I promise, I won’t let anything or anyone come between us.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

No relationship was ideal and obviously, just like rainy days, bad ones were guaranteed as well but you could always weather the storm as long as you were together..

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bellaxgiornata · 3 months

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The Devil at Your Window |2: Borrowed Scarf|

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word count: 4.4k

Warnings/Tags: 18+; fluff, flirting, sexual tension, light angst, pining, eventual smut, identity reveal, and lots of black suit Matty

Series Installment List & Summary

a/n: Another fluffy and flirty installment for this series! Some hurt/comfort coming up next for this series! Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @danzer8705 @darkened-writer @keepingitlokiii @kezibear @dorothleah @sarahskywalker-amidala

Stomping your boots on the little entry rug just inside your apartment, you attempted to knock most of the snow from off of them. You didn’t want the water to pool all over the hardwood by your door when the snow inevitably melted. Even though, admittedly, the floor in your place wasn’t in the best condition to begin with. But you always thought it added ‘character’ to the apartment.

With a sigh you leaned to your right, resting a shoulder against the wall while your left hand clutched the two bags of takeout you’d just picked up. Reaching a foot forward, you gently nudged your apartment door shut with a boot before drawing your leg back towards yourself and sluggishly removing them one at a time single-handedly. Once you’d removed both boots, you placed them on the rug to dry before pushing off the wall and taking a moment to lock your front door.

A strong, delicious scent wafted out of the takeout bags as you made your way over towards your kitchen, your stomach rumbling hungrily in response. You knew you'd gone a little overboard ordering tonight, aware there was no way you could actually eat everything you'd picked up, but you figured whatever was left could end up as lunch tomorrow at work. Everything had just sounded too good because you’d been starving when you ordered it.

Setting both bags down on your kitchen counter, you headed towards your fridge and swung the door open, grabbing a beer from off the top shelf. You twisted the cap off, tossing it into the garbage as you passed it. Taking a drink from the bottle, you opened a cabinet with your left hand and pulled down a plate, closing the cabinet door with your elbow before spinning on the spot. Heading back towards the counter where the bags of takeout resided, you set both your plate and beer bottle onto the surface. With your hands free, you immediately began to tear the bags of food open, rifling around in them and pulling out one of the burritos and setting it onto your plate. Next you dug out the container of rice before grabbing the chips and salsa, setting them on the counter before opening the nearby drawer and pulling out a spoon. In a rush to eat, especially after having made the trek around the corner to pick up your food in all the snow, you began to quickly plate both items hungrily.

Once everything was ready, you grabbed your beer in one hand and your plate of food in the other before making your way out of your kitchen and over towards the living room, leaving the mess on your counter to deal with once you’d eaten. As you began to lower yourself onto the couch, you reached forward and set your beer onto the coffee table. Settling down onto the cushions with a contented sigh, you balanced your plate of food on your lap and picked up the television remote from the arm of the couch. Impatiently you turned the TV on with one hand while beginning to unwrap your burrito with the other, too hungry to wait to eat until you’d started your show. Tearing off a large bite of food, you opened up Netflix while you chewed, fully prepared to continue binging the series you’d been watching. Though the sound of a few loud raps gave you pause before you could push play.

Swallowing down the bite of food you’d had in your mouth, your brows furrowed in confusion. It was late, almost eight o’clock. You’d been held over at the office today, and then the snow-laden sidewalks had slowed your walk home from work afterwards, making your walk take longer than usual. After getting out of your dress clothes, you’d decided you were too tired to cook this evening and ordered food instead. Which was why you were now having such a late dinner on a Tuesday evening.

But it was Tuesday evening. Which meant you weren’t expecting visitors.

The knock sounded again and your eyes narrowed as you lowered the burrito to the plate in your lap and set the television remote back onto the armrest of the couch. That’s when it hit you. There wasn’t someone knocking at your door, there was someone knocking at your window .

Your head spun to the right instantly. Sure enough, the Devil clad in all black was standing on your fire escape. The moment your eyes landed on him, he raised a single gloved hand and waved, a smile forming beneath his mask. Eyes going wide, your mouth once again fell open at the sight of him standing there so casually on your fire escape in the cold of the night.

It had been just over a week ago since the snowstorm that had led him to fall onto your fire escape when you’d first met him. The same night where you’d cuddled with him for warmth when the power had gone out in your building before accidentally falling asleep on him. But he’d snuck out of your apartment before you’d even woken, and you hadn’t heard from him since, even if you had seen him in some blurry photos on the news.

But it wasn’t as if you’d truly ever expected to see him again after that strange night where you recalled staying up and talking with him well past two in the morning. Sure, you’d hoped he’d stop by again–fantasized about it maybe, especially with how good your mind kept recalling him looking in person in all that tight-fitting black. Those blurry cell phone images of him truly didn’t do him justice. But they were just that. Fantasies. The conversation had flowed and you swore you’d thought he was being a little flirtatious, but you figured that was probably his ‘thing.’ It didn’t mean anything. At least, not to him. And you’d scolded yourself repeatedly every time your brain decided to remind you of him over the past few days because that encounter shouldn’t have meant anything to you, either.

So why the hell was he suddenly standing on your fire escape now gesturing for you to open the window?

Still feeling entirely confused, you shifted your plate from off of your lap and onto the coffee table next to your beer. Rising to your feet, you made your way the few steps over to your window. As you moved, your eyes never left the Devil’s face, and you noticed how the smile never left his.

Reaching out, you unlatched the locks on your window and pushed it upwards. A cold rush of air burst into your apartment instantly and you shivered. Your eyes remained focused on the Devil’s face, a rush of questions racing through your mind as you took in the now almost cocky grin on his lips. Eventually your mouth blurted out the first question it could before you could stop it.

“What’re you doing here?” you asked him.

He raised a gloved hand up, clutching at his chest dramatically as he took a partial step back from the window. “Ouch,” he replied. “Certainly not the greeting I expected.”

“No,” you said, shaking your head as the bitter chill of the night continued to bite at your skin, “that’s not how I meant it. I meant, why are you here? I didn’t expect to see you again unless I needed saving or something.”

“Maybe I just missed my favorite space heater?” he teased.

Heat immediately flamed at your cheeks. Even if he was joking, his words still had an effect on you. And the way his smile grew into more of a smirk in the brief silence that followed wasn’t helping.

“In all seriousness I came to return this,” he said, holding up his other hand.

Your eyes darted down at the movement, not having noticed he had been holding something in his other hand. It was a bunched up ball of fabric with a bright blue plaid pattern.

“Oh my God,” you breathed out, eyes widening as realization dawned on you. “My scarf? You have my scarf?” A laugh bubbled up out of you as you glanced back up at his half-obscured face. “I wondered where that had gotten to! I thought I’d left it at the office somewhere.”

An almost sheepish smile tugged at his mouth now as he shook his head. “I uh, I borrowed it. It was freezing that night when I left your apartment and you’re right, this suit doesn’t offer much protection in general. I figured you wouldn’t mind because I intended to return it the next night, but well, I may have gotten a little…distracted with some things this past week.”

“Yeah, it definitely seems like you’ve been keeping busy from what I’ve heard in the news,” you told him.

The cocky smile easily returned to his face as his head tilted a little to the side. Your heart skittered at the sight and you tried to ignore it.

“Keeping tabs on me?” he asked. “I'm flattered.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the way your breath was coming in a little faster now, too. Really though, it wasn't fair how that deep gravelly voice of his paired with all those muscles and his charm could get your pulse racing with such little effort.

“Do you maybe want to come in?” you asked him when another harsh breeze blew into your apartment. “To get warm for a moment? Or do you have some super secret vigilante business that you urgently need to attend to?”

He chuckled in response, the warm sound drawing a little smile onto your own lips. So you could still make him laugh. That shouldn't have made you as pleased as it did.

“It's currently quiet in the city,” he replied. “Which is why I had time to stop by and return your scarf. But if I'm not interrupting your evening, I wouldn't mind getting warm for a moment.”

“You're not interrupting anything,” you assured him, stepping away from the window and waving him inside. “It's not often I get the opportunity to help out Hell’s Kitchen's literal superhero.”

“Well now,” the Devil began as he slipped effortlessly through the window, “that title might be undeserved.”

You gasped dramatically, catching the smile on his face just before he turned around. His gloved hands raised up, grabbing onto the window and closing it after himself, immediately cutting off the harsh wind that had been blowing into your apartment.

“You? Being humble?” you teased, watching as he turned back towards you still grinning. “Now that’s a surprise.”

“Are you implying I have an ego, Miss…?” he asked, holding your balled up scarf in his hand out towards you.

You reached out, grabbing the scarf from him as you shook your head and waved a finger at him. “Uh uh, no. But nice try,” you told him. “If I can’t know your name, why should I give you mine?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he playfully teased back, “maybe so I could properly thank you for letting me steal your scarf for a week? Especially since you’re not the one going out at night committing countless crimes and actually having a need to keep your identity hidden?”

Turning, you headed back towards your coffee table to set the scarf down onto it. You’d forgotten just how enjoyable the verbal back and forth with him had been the night he’d fallen onto your fire escape. He was funny but he was witty, too.

“You can thank me just fine without a name, Devil,” you pointed out. “Besides, you just admitted to being a criminal. Probably not a good idea giving my name out to a criminal.”

The Devil shook his head, a smile stretched wide across his face when you glanced back at him. One of your brows rose curiously onto your forehead.

“What?” you asked.

“I mean, what does your name matter when I know where you live?” he questioned. “And if you’re that worried about your safety with me, you should probably stop inviting me into your apartment to get warm as often as you do.”

You rolled your eyes, waving a dismissive hand at him. “It’s not like I’m actually worried about my safety around you,” you countered. “Otherwise I would’ve called the police on you that first night, not let you in. And I certainly wouldn’t have invited you in a second time, either.”

The Devil’s masked head cocked to the side, the corner of his smirking lip twitching. It was impossible not to stare at his mouth when everything else was covered up. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

“So then why did you let me in a second time?” he asked.

His gravelly voice had somehow pitched to something lower when he’d spoken–something that almost sounded borderline flirtatious. Again. And it only had the hair on your forearms raising, goosebumps prickling along your skin. For a moment you just stood there in your living room, blinking hard a few times as your brain fumbled to come up with a witty retort. In that brief hesitation, you saw his smirk grow.

“Maybe I just have a thing for strays,” you finally shot back.

His lips parted in surprise, the smirk vanishing from his face. A pleased smile made its way onto your own in return because you’d clearly taken him off guard. He didn’t seem like the type to be surprised that easily.

“Are–are you calling me a stray?” he asked in mock-offense.

His surprise had caused that deep, fake voice of his to falter when he spoke, allowing you to catch what you assumed was his real voice for the first time. You liked the sound of it.

“I mean technically I did feed you, give you water, and a place to get warm,” you joked, laughing lightly as you replied. “And well–” you gestured a hand at him standing across your living room, “–you came back.”

“Yeah,” he said, his own hand gesturing to the scarf you’d set down on the coffee table, “to return the scarf I borrowed.”

“Stole,” you corrected him.

A mental image of him dressed in his entirely black outfit with your blue plaid scarf bundled around his neck as he jumped from roof to roof suddenly surfaced in your mind. You couldn’t help but giggle at the visual of it. The Devil took a few steps towards you at the sound, his boots thudding heavily against your worn wood floors. That easy smile was back on his mouth again.

“What’s so funny?” he asked curiously.

“I was just thinking,” you told him, “that the bad guys on the streets this past week must have thought you were trying something new fashion-wise. Or that you got dressed in the dark with you running around wearing my scarf.”

He nodded his head, a chuckle slipping out of him. “Well maybe I did,” he replied. “Get dressed in the dark, I mean. Or something like that.”

You paused for a moment, laughter subsiding as one brow rose up onto your forehead. What a curious thing to say.

Out of the corner of your eye you caught sight of the extra takeout food sitting on your counter. You remembered how he’d admitted previously that he didn’t keep much food in his fridge and you nervously began gnawing on your bottom lip. Would it be weird if you offered him dinner? You did have extra, after all. And you had a sinking feeling that when he finished his night out fighting crime–or whatever the hell he called it–he was probably not about to find something to eat.

For some reason that realization made you a little sad. How often did Hell’s Kitchen’s hero actually take care of himself? Was there even anyone who looked out for him? After everything he did for this city and the people in it, surely he deserved that.

“You know, I was actually sitting down to eat dinner when you showed up,” you began, though you abruptly quieted when he took a few steps back towards the window.

“You’re right, I noticed,” he replied, his tone suddenly serious. “I’ll let you get back to your night.”

“No, no,” you said quickly, taking a step towards him.

He stopped, his head once again tilting to the side. It seemed like he was eyeing you curiously beneath that black mask even though you couldn’t actually see his eyes. His lips were set in a straight line as he waited for you to continue, all joking suddenly gone from him. Had he really thought you were kicking him out?

“I actually was going to ask if you’d like something to eat,” you told him. “Something more than some protein bars this time.”

There was a few seconds of silence before he spoke.

“You’re…asking me to stay and eat with you?” he questioned, surprised.

“Yes,” you answered.

Another few seconds of silence passed and you figured he was pondering the offer. Then gradually, his posture changed and a smirk reappeared on that tempting mouth of his.

“Are you trying to feed me so that I’ll come back again?” he teased. “Like the stray you think I am?”

Heat flamed at your cheeks, your eyes going wide at his accusation. “No!” you answered, shaking your head. “No, I just remembered you saying you didn’t have much food at your place. And I get the feeling you skip dinner most nights because of running around the city as the Devil.”

“Well they do say breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” he countered cheekily.

You rolled your eyes at him yet again, though you couldn’t resist the smile that returned to your face as you made your way around your couch and back towards your kitchen.

“Okay, well I’d like to make sure you’re not malnourished,” you said, reaching up into a cabinet and pulling down a glass. “Or dehydrated.”

You stepped over to the sink, filling the glass you’d just pulled out with water from the faucet. Vaguely you were aware of the Devil making his way into your kitchen as you did.

“What makes you think I’m malnourished?” he asked curiously.

You shook your head, laughing lightly. “Please, there’s barely any body fat on you,” you answered, turning off the faucet before turning around.

You almost dropped the glass of water onto the floor with how surprisingly close he had been standing behind you. Eyes going wide, you stared up at the masked face of his that was now only a foot away from yours.

“Been observing me that closely, have you?” that deep voice of his rumbled out.

Swallowing hard, both of your hands tightened around the glass of water. Your mouth felt like it had gone dry, your heart picking up its pace inside your chest. A slow, satisfied smirk twisted the corner of his mouth as he reached a hand out, gently grabbing the glass of water from your hands.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

“Mhmm,” you hummed out.

He turned around, heading back towards your living room while taking a sip of water from the glass. Letting out a quiet exhale, you quickly ran a hand over your forehead and tried to collect yourself. He should not be able to affect you so easily.

“I admittedly don’t have much time,” the Devil called over his shoulder to you. “So I probably shouldn’t stay long.”

“That’s–” you began, shaking your head lightly as you tried to remember how to form a sentence, “–that’s okay. How quickly do you think you can eat a burrito?”

Pushing yourself off the counter you’d apparently fallen back against, you headed over to the bag of takeout where you’d left it. From your living room, you heard the Devil laugh.

“My old college roommate has asked me that far too many times before,” he told you.

“Oh?” you asked, digging through the bag for the second burrito. “So the Devil went to college?”

You glanced up at him as you pulled the neatly wrapped package from out of the brown paper bag. The amused smile was gone from his face, replaced with that serious expression once more. You frowned in response. You'd clearly done something wrong.

“I probably shouldn’t have told you that about me,” he mused quietly.

“It’s alright,” you assured him, making your way back over to him. “The number of people who’ve gone to college and had a roommate is vast. I’m not going to guess your true identity based on that alone. It’s not like you told me where you went to school or what you studied.”

You came to a stop in front of him before slowly holding the wrapped burrito out towards him. He stood there in silence, a muscle jumping in his cheek as if he was grinding his teeth. You almost felt bad for calling out his minor slip up. You hoped it wouldn’t suddenly keep him away, because admittedly you’d found yourself enjoying this second unexpected visit of his, too. You kind of hoped there might be a third one.

“I suppose you’re right,” he said softly.

Hesitantly his black gloved hand rose up, cautiously accepting the food from your outstretched one. Despite you joking earlier, he actually did remind you a bit of a stray. Especially with how guarded he became if you touched on the wrong topic, like he was ready to bolt right back out of your window if you did or said the wrong thing.

“Why don’t we sit?” you suggested.

Making your way back over to the couch, you heard his heavy footsteps following after you. You returned to the spot on the couch where you’d been initially while the Devil sat further away from you, all the way on the opposite end of it. Trying to hide your disappointment at the obvious space he’d put between the pair of you–one that hadn’t been there last time–you picked your plate back up from off of the coffee table, setting it onto your lap.

“So why exactly don’t you have long to eat?” you asked him cautiously.

Truthfully you were afraid the answer was because of you. Because he didn’t want to risk giving too much of himself away. Or that maybe now that he had returned your scarf, he had no more reason to be here anymore.

“Because something might be about to happen in the city,” he answered, unwrapping the burrito and drawing it up to his mouth. “And I might be needed.”

You sat there dumbfounded at his response, your hand hovering over the burrito on your plate. Yet again it was another odd thing for him to say. How could he possibly know that while he was sitting here in your apartment talking to you?

“Okay,” you said slowly, watching him tear off a large bite of his food and chew it quickly. “Do the criminals around here have a schedule you got a hold of somehow?” you asked, half-joking. “At quarter to nine this evening they’ve penciled in some nefarious activities or something?”

The Devil huffed out a laugh, shaking his head as he swallowed down another bite of food. “No, nothing like that,” he answered with a mysterious grin.

He tore another bite from the burrito in his hands, your brows both raising onto your forehead at how quickly he was making his way through it. How often had he downed burritos in college in a rush? You found yourself curious, wanting to know more about him–who he was outside of the Devil–but you knew better than to ask. Surely a single question that was a little too personal would have him running off like a scared cat.

“Well that’s…an oddly cryptic comment then,” you told him, picking your own burrito up and drawing it towards your mouth. “But I’ll just chalk it up to keeping your identity secret, I guess.”

“Much appreciated,” he replied around a mouthful of food.

Trying to stifle the giggle threatening to slip out of you at how adorably comical he looked stuffing his face with that mask on, you took a bite of your own food and began to chew. A comfortable silence settled between the pair of you for a minute as you both ate, your mind trying to work up a safe topic of discussion. Though before you had a chance to think of one, you noticed him abruptly stiffen on the other end of your couch. Your eyes narrowed curiously at him, watching as his head darted back towards your living room window, shifting around a few times like he'd heard something.

“What?” you asked him cautiously.

Your head darted over your shoulder, looking out the same window he was. Though you couldn’t see anything.

“I have to go,” he said.

You glanced back at him and saw that he’d abruptly risen from your sofa. Brows knitting together, you quickly placed your burrito back onto your plate. The Devil started to swiftly make his way back to your window without another word.

“Wait, what’s going on?” you asked after him.

Hurriedly, you set your plate on the coffee table before scrambling up to your feet and following after him. He spun around towards you once he’d reached your window, a frown tugging the corners of his mouth downwards.

“Someone’s in danger, I can’t explain how I know,” he said in a rush. “But I have to go. Thank you for unknowingly letting me borrow your scarf and for feeding me.” He held up the almost finished burrito in his hand, a smile briefly ghosting over his lips before it disappeared. “A second time.”

“Of–of course,” you stammered out, watching in puzzlement as he turned back around and quickly opened the window. “Are you going to be okay?”

With a grace you could never muster, he climbed back through your window, stepping out onto your fire escape. One last cheeky smirk was on his lips as he turned around and eyed you through the opening.

“Are you worried about me, Miss…?” he asked.

You bit your lip, trying to fight back the smile threatening to break out across your face. “Nice try yet again,” you told him off-handedly. “And what if I was?” you shot back. “What if someone in Hell’s Kitchen was actually out there worrying about you? What then?”

“Well,” he answered, that cheeky smirk still on his lips, “then I’d tell them not to worry about me. Because I’m a big boy and I can take care of myself.”

Lips parting in surprise at his response, you watched as he briskly turned around. And then, with a cat-like grace, he flung himself over the edge of your fire escape, burrito and all.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock #daredevil

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springwitch26 · 6 months

Note

Hey you're writing is so beautiful and *cough cough* incredibly hot, would you be down to write a Melissa brat tamer oneshot 😅

No pressure ofc!

-anon

tear you apart (melissa schemmenti x fem!reader)

summary: you're feeling bratty and melissa is all too happy to punish you.

warnings: smut (18+), brat taming, punishment, degradation, spanking, humiliation, overstim, voyeurism? basically unhinged content + agatha harkness obsession disease 💜

notes: thank you anon for your kind words and this request! hope this is worth the wait. melissa is such a brat tamer and i'm reminded of that every time she makes a biting comment or threatens to fight someone. she needs a girl who can take it and then give it right back.

all you ever wanted was to make melissa feel good.

you knew from the start of your relationship that she was a top. but at first, you weren't sure what she liked: did she want you to be her good girl? or did she enjoy a challenge?

within a few weeks, you had pieced together the answer: it depended on the day. on bad days, all she wanted was her sweet, obedient angel.

one night she came home deflated, having fought with barbara over a teacher appreciation gift from the district. she pulled you into her and didn't let go, holding you close through hours of gentle sex. you were so soft, so comforting, so good.

"come sit on my lap, babydoll," she had said, patting her legs where she sat on the sofa. you obliged.

"are you okay?" you asked, searching her eyes for frustration and regret.

"i am now," she whispered as she caressed up your thighs, smiling as you nuzzled into her neck to hide your whimper. "just do what i say 'n make your pretty noises, and i'll be just fine."

good days were a different story. competition and conflict excited melissa. she felt most like herself when she was telling somebody off or winning some game. so, when things were quiet at work or when she was feeling playful, you were more than happy to give her the challenge she craved. your attitude drove her insane, and putting you in your place was always exhilarating.

tonight was a good night. you could tell from the moment she walked in the door, carrying that massive read-a-thon belt. she was on top of the world after her victory, and now she needed another conquest.

you twirled around the kitchen as you cooked dinner in your thin sleep shirt and little shorts. melissa loved seeing you like this: comfy, happy, and best of all, lightly clothed.

you smirked to yourself as you hatched a plan. instead of greeting her like usual, you pretended not to see her come in. then you held up your phone and took a selfie that just happened to provide a view down your shirt. melissa saw it all.

"whatcha doin', hon?" melissa raised an eyebrow at you, still smiling from a great day at work.

"oh, nothing. just texting ava," you replied coyly. melissa's jaw clenched ever so subtly.

you had been friends with ava since back when you were still working at abbott. melissa wasn't jealous of your friendship with ava. no, what irritated her was how shamelessly ava would check you out and hit on you. ava's advances were never serious, she knew that. but melissa also knew that ava hit on you at least as much as she did gregory, and that was a problem in her book.

you smiled at her and went back to your cooking like it was nothing. you were in for a fight tonight.

...

when you sat down in the living room to binge-watch wandavision after dinner, melissa attempted to stroke up your thighs several times. you refused her and innocently cuddled into her side.

all was going according to plan until you heard agatha say "good girl" on the television. you shuddered and pressed your legs together, and it did not go unnoticed by melissa.

"aw, hon. does that make you feel needy?"

she had the upper hand. but you could still salvage this.

"yes, agatha drives me crazy," you said, meeting her gaze and giving her a sultry smug look.

"i thought you liked wanda..." she grumbled, her jaw clenched. it was working.

"mmm no, agatha is more my type," you drawled. you remembered melissa dressed as the scarlet witch. that sinfully sexy costume. she had done it for you.

the fact that you were switching up on her now made her livid. your type? she wasn't your type?

"god, kathryn hahn..." you whispered when the camera focused in on agatha's magical fingers, absolutely selling that you were turned on. it pushed melissa over the edge.

in one swift move, she shut the tv off and crawled on top of you, pushing you into the couch by your sternum. the look in her eyes was dark, fiery, dangerous.

"take your clothes off," melissa growled, fire bubbling behind her eyes.

she pulled herself off of you and sat looking you over from the other end of the couch, an expectant look on her face.

"yes, ma'am," you scrambled to comply with her instructions, stripping eagerly in front of her.

"leave the panties on," melissa stopped you before you could drag your thong down your legs. "on the bed."

the two of you rushed up the stairs and over to the bedroom, her grabbing at your waist the entire time. melissa sat back against the pillows, her legs spread for you. she gestured between her legs and you knew what she wanted.

you squealed and quickly adjusted yourself to straddle her, your legs on either side of hers as you unbuttoned her shirt. she sat upright against the pillows, her messy hair framing her heated face.

once you had removed her shirt and bra, she fisted her hands in your hair and pushed your head downward. you quietly whimpered at the manhandling. she took the initiative to swiftly pull her pants and panties down to her ankles, giving you just one firm command: "be a good girl."

you parted her legs gently and dove in, licking wide stripes up her folds but avoiding her clit to tease her. it wasn't long before you felt a fist in your hair, pulling you off of her to meet her frustrated gaze.

"unless you want red handprints all over your ass, don't fuckin' tease," she sneered.

you were torn: you wanted that punishment, but you also wanted to be a good girl for her. you chose to be good for now, attaching your lips to her clit and making her groan in satisfaction. you could always push her buttons later.

"that's it, honey, right there," she choked out as you swirled your tongue around her clit. she wouldn't last long, already worked up from seeing you strip for her.

you lapped at her and sucked on her bundle of nerves, enjoying the chorus of good girl and don't stop until you felt her legs start to tremble around you. at that point, you pulled back, leaving her bucking up into nothing.

you gave her a mischievous grin and started to trace your lips with your thumb absentmindedly. you watched her seethe in anger, never taking her eyes off of you.

"oh, sorry, i think i smudged my lipstick. give me a second," you could hardly contain your giddiness at how angry she looked. you needed her to lose control.

without missing a beat, she grabbed your hair and forcefully pushed you back between her legs. all of her gentleness was gone.

"such a dumb fucking slut. can't even follow simple instructions," she scolded. "finish me off, whore, and then we'll work on your behavior."

you felt yourself get soaked again at the manhandling, her seething words and her promise to punish you. eager to make up for your misbehavior, you ate her out with reckless abandon. she reached her high within minutes, whispering filthy things to you the whole time.

"fuck, that's good. lookin' up at me like that with your big doe eyes. i'm gonna come all over that pretty, smart mouth."

she came with a low groan, coating your lips in her wetness. the sight was pornographic: you looked at her with hooded eyes and wet lips, slightly fearful of her next move. it was exhilarating.

when she had recovered, she sat up and stared you down, a twisted smirk on her face. you swore you knew what she would say before the words left her mouth.

"bend over my lap, beautiful." her tone was dark, but you could hear the excitement behind her words.

you scrambled to obey, laying face-down on her lap with your ass up, wiggling gently in front of her. enticing her.

for a minute, there was silence. she just watched in amusement as you squirmed in her lap, desperate for any kind of attention from her. from where she sat, she could see your arousal glistening on your thighs. she was drunk on the power.

"a little desperate, hmmm?" she teased. you nodded frantically. she started to trace light patterns on your ass with her fingernail. "let me tell you what's gonna happen now. i'm gonna spank your cute little ass until you're crying and begging me to stop. then, i'm gonna fuck you until you're so sensitive that you can't stand to be touched any more. sound good?"

while she was nonchalant, you were almost at your breaking point from her words alone. you were completely at her mercy. you managed a "yes" and nodded intently for her to continue with her plan, desperate to see it through to the end.

it was hardly a second later when she slapped your ass, hard. you should have seen it coming, but you still yelped in surprise. you felt throbbing between your legs as the pain spread through you.

this went on for a while, and eventually you lost count of how many times she'd hit your backside. tears rolled down your cheeks, and you hardly felt them. and you were soaking her lap with your arousal. melissa whispered filthy things to you the entire time.

"my pretty, little, brat," she emphasized each word with a harder slap.

when it finally stopped, she started to caress you all over and praise you for taking your punishment so well. her soft touch brought you back to reality, and she guided you to sit up.

"wow, sweetheart. you really made a mess," melissa said, gesturing to her legs which were sticky with your wetness. you hid your face in your hands.

"stop it, you know i wanna see you. in fact..." she trailed off with a smirk and reached to grab her phone off the nightstand. "touch yourself."

your mouth fell open at the command, and she gave you a challenging look. not wanting to push her any farther tonight, you did as she asked and tried to find a comfortable position.

"spread 'em wide, princess," she said, smiling down at her phone like she wasn't watching your every move.

a burning heat ran through you at her words. you leaned back and started to gently circle your clit through your panties, anxiously awaiting her next move. you were a whimpering, blushing mess when she finally looked up at you with a grin.

"stay just like that," she said while bringing her phone up to point it at you. you heard the clicking noise of the iphone camera and your eyes widened. melissa had never done anything like this before.

"w-what are you doing?" you barely managed the sentence as your fingers worked you up, making you gasp.

"oh, just givin' myself a little treat for later," she replied coyly. "and maybe next time you act up, i'll show ya these. make ya remember your place."

you shifted uncomfortably, feeling hot all over from your fingers and the humiliation. melissa noticed and put her phone aside to look in your eyes.

"color?" she whispered.

"pink..." you replied shyly. that meant she could keep going. she smiled and cupped your face in her hands, kissing you softly.

her hand traveled down to remove yours from between your legs. she finally laid you down on the bed, running her hands up your thighs. your legs fell open for her and she leaned in to inspect your swollen folds.

she hummed as she trailed two fingers through your wetness, earning her a pitiful noise. when she pulled away and mosied over to the dresser drawer, you knew what she was going to do.

"i think you're wet enough for the strap, don't you?" she pulled out a bright red one that you had never seen before. she watched your eyes as you reacted to its size.

"i bought this as a surprise for you knowin' you'd go crazy over it," she mused as she adjusted the harness and attached the dildo to it.

"mel, it's... big," you said, looking up at her with wide eyes as she positioned herself above you.

"yeah, hon, that's why i bought it," she teased, smirking as if it was the most obvious reply in the world. you breathed a sigh of relief as she covered the strap in a thick layer of lube.

she took the cock in one hand and maneuvered it through your folds, pressing on your clit and making you cry out. you shuddered when she positioned it at your entrance.

"you ready for me?" melissa trailed a finger under your chin and forced you to meet her eyes.

"pink," you breathed, and she pushed the tip in. you felt the stretch immediately, and melissa used her free hand to rub your abdomen soothingly.

she continued to work her way into you, her hand never stopping its comforting motions. when she bottomed out, you felt so full you could hardly breathe. it was a thrill.

you nodded at her to signal she could move, and she started to fuck you slow and hard. the size of the strap-on allowed her to hit places that you'd never felt before, and you couldn't hold back your moans.

her thrusts became rougher very quickly, and she dug her thumbs into your hips to balance herself. you knew there would be marks there tomorrow. her pace and the low groans she let out suggested that she was still hanging on to some frustration in need of release.

she hit your g-spot and you screamed, overwhelmed with the feeling of her. she noticed the telltale signs of your orgasm approaching: shaking legs, parted lips, strangled moans. in response, melissa reached down to rub your bundle of nerves roughly, and that sent you over the edge.

"good girl, so good," she coaxed you through your high. you thought she would stop after one. oh how naive you were. you were trembling and squirming away from her, and she just continued to rub your clit, rocking gently inside you.

"come on, honey, give me another, i know you can," she encouraged you, peppering you with sweet kisses. you nodded and she started to fuck you again in earnest.

every nerve ending in your body was buzzing, and all you could feel was melissa. she thrusted into you like her life depended on it, and you admired her face as she worked you. her red hair hung around her face, which had also become red from the exertion. it felt amazing—hell, it felt insane—to feel her hitting all the most sensitive spots inside you. but it felt even more amazing to have the sexiest woman on the planet on top of you, working your body like it was her life's mission.

when your second orgasm washed over you, it was more intense than the first. it drained all the power from your body and you surrendered yourself to your fiery lover. she again whispered sweet nothings in your ear to help you along. when you had stopped shuddering, she pulled out.

you caught your breath and watched her rise to her feet, humming as she took off the strap. you could see a devious glint in her expression that told you you weren't done quite yet.

after that small taste of relief, melissa stalked over to you and spread your legs once more. you whined in discomfort, too sensitive to take any more.

"shhhh, baby, lemme clean you," she soothed before beginning to lap at you, savoring your taste. she tried to avoid your clit but her nose brushed against it, bringing a pained noise from you. she hummed into you and kept going, stroking your legs to relax you.

after you had gotten comfortable with the feeling of her tongue she drifted up to your clit, circling it but avoiding direct contact. you gasped and bucked up into her mouth despite your best efforts. even the smallest touch felt like an electric shock.

when your whines turned to quiet moans, melissa wrapped her mouth around your clit and started to suck, rolling her tongue over it. the pressure was white-hot and deadly, and it sent you over the edge in seconds.

"my sweet angel, i love you, you did so well for me..." she comforted you through the comedown. she stroked your sides and you relaxed into her touch, your heartbeat finally slowing. she placed a fond kiss on your forehead, then got up to get a washcloth and some water for you.

...

"i won the read-a-thon today..." she said while she cleaned you.

"i noticed," you giggled, smiling up at her. the love in her eyes made the green irises sparkle and swim with possibility. "i'm so proud of you."

"you coulda said that earlier!" she joked, recalling your misbehavior. there was a comfortable silence before she spoke again. "actually, i think i like it when you fight me a little."

you gazed at her fondly and laughed again, feeling warm and cared for. "i noticed."

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti/reader #melissa schemmenti x y/n #melissa schemmenti x you #abbott elementary fanfic #wlw fanfic #smut #melissa schemmenti smut

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dear-bunnyboo · 7 months

Text

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 || 𝐉𝐎𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖 18+

I’ve been getting so many Joe request and I promise I will get them out as soon as possible but as of now I will try and post the Joey B requests that I have started and finished.

This fic is inspired by two amazing lovelies who anonymously continues to message me such great ideas! I decided to merge the two requests because both seem to fit— and I know Halloween is over but never mind that!!

The inspiration for this fic: request 1 and request 2

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Joe Burrow x Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Trick or Treat? Your costume got Joe asking for a treat. While the aftermath of the party makes it feel like a trick.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ mature content, smut, cursing, established relationship, Halloween party, tension, sexual tension, alcohol consumption, quickie, dirty talking, role playing?, filth, choking, hair pulling, spitting, hickies, teasing, some fluff later on, hangover

If you are below the age of 18 and or you are not comfortable with the warnings above, please don’t read this!

𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐜. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

It was the eve of Halloween and instead of the usual of staying in and binge watching scary movies and the occasional handing out candies to children—you and your boyfriend Joe were invited by his head coach, Zach Taylor to a Halloween Party he and his wife were hosting.

Joe isn't much of a party person and neither were you, however, you knew he couldn't pass this invitation up considering the entirety of the Bengals were showing up with their significant others or plus ones— which is why you found yourself in your room looking at your completed costume as you and your boyfriend prepared for the party tonight.

You stood before the mirror, putting the finishing touches on your cop costume. The Halloween party was a couple hours away and you were determined to make a striking impression— you and Joe were too busy with your own jobs that the two of you didn't get enough preparation to think of your costumes which is why you and the blonde quarterback decided on something simple and easy— a basic Halloween costume in your opinion but, you had to work with what you had and plus you couldn't deny, as you stared at you figure in the mirror— you looked hot.

The police hat perched on your head gave you an air of authority, and the badge gleamed on your chest— the dark blue leotard, hugged your body just right, showcasing your curves. A deep v plunging neckline that showed a peek of your breast made you grin at yourself. You adjusted your utility belt, making sure everything was in its place - the handcuffs, a toy gun, and even a notepad to write "tickets" for your friends' hilarious "violations" later in the night— the matching shorts was hugging your bottom just as right, the sparkly black knee high boots completing the look.

Your hair framed your face, and you gave yourself a wink and a confident nod in the mirror. You couldn't help but grin at your reflection. You looked every bit the part of a stern yet sassy police officer.

"Perfect." you whispered to yourself as you added a few couple spritz of your favorite perfume all around you before grabbing your phone and purse, then sprinting to head downstairs.

Joe, had been waiting for you downstairs his focus on his phone, already dressed in his costume— your boyfriend in all his glory, standing there waiting for you, his 6 ft 4 frame in a bright orange tracksuit with matching orange dunks on his feet, however, this wasn't what caught your attention— Joe had his top unbuttoned till the middle of his abdomen which in turn showcased his muscular chest and hanging off his neck was an array of his iced out chains— one was his iced out '9' necklace and the other was your personal favorite which was his iced out 'Burrow' necklace that your eyes remained eyeing.

The sound of soft click of your heels on the hardwood floor caught your boyfriend's attention, now diverting his attention to you— Joe's breath was caught in his throat as he pocketed his phone, his focus solely on you; eyeing you up and down just like you did not long ago. His piercing blue eyes, slightly causing you to stagger as you walked up closer to him.

“Mmm, look at you.” Joe grunts dramatically, wrapping his arm around your waist; bringing your body close to his.

You giggle playfully, looking up into his eyes and whispering, "I look good don't I?" Joe nods in response; still looking deep into your eyes. He then leans in and kisses you softly on the lips; a small peck. “So, so good, baby.”

“I’ll have to ask you for more than a peck or else I’ll lock you back up.” You muttered against his soft lips, before nipping his lower lips with your teeth, pulling it in the process, earning a groan from Joe who was now running his large hands all over your body— he was slowly getting worked up by how good you looked in your costume and with you playing the role of a cop so well. Like a animal in heat, Joe gripped your neck and pulled your lips against his, the blonde kisses you sloppily while you happily did the same— your tongues clashing against each other.

Your hands ran through Joe's hair, making him moan even louder. You pulled away before leaning in and whispering in his ear, "You can do better than that." you continued egging him on.

Joe took a deep breath, his eyes piercing into yours as he smirked and nodded. "Of course I can," he said smugly, "I'm going to make you cum so fucking hard. Huh? Will you let me do that to you, officer?” Joe asked while he drew circles on your neck with his fingers.

“I’ll let you do anything to me.” You both seem to lose all sense of reality, completely forgetting that the two of you had a party to go to.

With that, Joe pushed you against the wall and kissed you again. This time, his tongue forced its way into your mouth, searching for yours. It was a battle of wills between you two, but he won out in the end— he always does.

Joe broke off the kiss and smiled, kissing your cheek and saying, "That's what I thought." You blushed at his words, but also felt a tingle between your legs.

Joe then pulled you in for another kiss, this one deeper and more passionate than the last. His hands found their way in your shorts and he began rubbing your pussy through your panties.

You moaned against his lips, enjoying the feeling of his hand on your pussy. You had been thinking about this moment ever since you got dressed up, and you were glad it was finally happening.

Joe smirked against the kiss and started to unzip the zipper of your leotard, exposing your perky breasts even more than it already was. You gasped as he took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking on it gently.

His tongue swirled around your nipple, causing you to gasp loudly. He then switched to your other breast, giving it the same treatment as your first. You moaned loudly, your body shaking as you enjoyed his touch— Joe was now nipping and sucking on your neck and breast, leaving a wide array of dark purple bruises on them.

He was marking his territory and you let him.

You could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter, your panties becoming soaked with your juices. “Please, Joe, we need to hurry.” you moaned the realization dawning up to you that you two were needed elsewhere. “Please give it to me, Joey.” you mewled.

Joe then pulled away from your breasts, and looked you in the eye. You could see the lust in his eyes, and knew he wanted you. “You’ll get it, baby. You’ll get it.”he coos as he plays with your hair; his eyes following your squirming figure— Joe enjoys watching you lose it for him and only him.

You nod eagerly, not wanting to wait any longer. Joe smiles and pulls you in for another kiss, but this time he doesn't stop until you're pressed against the wall.

You moan into his mouth as you feel his cock pressing against your stomach. Joe breaks the kiss and says, "Take off your panties and let me fuck you." You nod, eager to take care of Joe.

You pull your panties down and kick them off, and Joe takes them and places them in his pocket. He then kisses you again, pushing you back against the wall and grinding himself against your pussy. You moan into his mouth as you feel his cock press against your pussy, trying to find its way inside. You grab his ass and push him harder against you, grinding your hips against his.

You moan as you feel him slide into you, filling you up. Joe moans as well, loving the feeling of you wrapped around his cock. “Fuck, baby” he grunts. You slowly begin to move your hips, grinding against him.

Joe begins thrusting into you faster, your pussy squeezing his cock. You moan louder, wanting more. Joe then grabs your hair and yanks your head back, forcing you to look him in the eye.

“That feel good, huh? Yeah? Fuck, take it.” Joe grunts, yanking your head harder— he squeezes your cheeks in his hand. “Open.” he demanded. With no hesitation you opened your mouth wide open and in an instant Joe spits inside your mouth making your eyes at the back of your head before swallowing.

You can see the lust in his eyes heightened at your actions, and know he wants you just as badly as you want him. He then pulls out of you, and turns you around so you are facing the wall. He then pushes you up against the wall, and begins to thrust into you hard and fast. You moan loudly, loving the feeling of being fucked like this. Joe continues to pound you hard, making you scream out loud.

“Oh, fuck! M’feel so good, baby” you moaned louder.

Your hands grip the wall tightly, nails digging into it. Joe reaches around and grabs your breasts, squeezing them roughly. You moan loudly, your body trembling as Joe continues to fuck you hard.

You can feel his balls slapping against your pussy as he pounds you. His cock feels so good inside you, and you know you'll never be satisfied by anyone else.

“No one else can make you feel this way. No one but me.” Joe slaps your ass making you jump. “Only you, Joey.” you released a squeal as Joe continued hitting just the right spots harder. “Damn straight.” Joe chuckles smugly.

You hear him moaning and groaning, his breathing getting heavier. You can feel his cock throbbing inside you, and you know he is close to cumming. Joe moans, pulling you close before turning your head, kissing you deeply.

Thrusting deeper into you, you feel his hands leave your body as he sloppily pounded in to you, you hear fumbling noises from behind you and before you could ask Joe what he was doing, you felt something cold land on your bare neck— looking down you see Joe’s iced out ‘Burrow’ necklace that he was just wearing— the diamonds glimmering along with the light sheen of sweat covering your chest.

“Don’t think I don’t see you eyeing this, baby. I want you to have it. I want you to wear it tonight. I want to fuck you and make you come with my name around your neck.” Joe railed you harder.

You moan loudly, knowing you will do anything he asks. You feel Joe hit the right spots inside you. You feel him tense up, and you know he's going to cum soon.

Joe turns you around before carrying you, pushing you against the wall as he continued fucking you with the same amount of passion and wanton need. You wrap your legs around him, locking him deep inside you as he continues to pound you. You can feel yourself starting to orgasm, and you know that he is too.

“I’m close, baby” you said biting his neck, trying your best to muffle the screams that were threatening to come out of your mouth.

“I know, baby. Let go, cum for me, baby.” Joe moaned as he cradled your head against his neck.

You try to hold on, but you can't stop the waves of pleasure from washing over you. You scream out Joe's name as you reach climax, your pussy clenching around his cock— you buried your face back against his neck, sucking and licking on his neck and chest as you came down from your high.

Joe moans loudly, continuing to thrust into you. You moan into his neck, enjoying the feel of his cock inside you. You can feel him tensing up, and know he is about to cum.

“Cum in me, Joey— I want it in me.” You mewled as you watched your boyfriend’s face contort in such lewd expression that could get you going again.

You bite down on his neck, causing him to shudder and groan. You feel his cock throb inside you, and you know he is cumming. You moan loudly, your body shaking as Joe's hot cum fills your pussy. You can feel him twitching, and you know he is done. You kiss him deeply, tasting his salty cum on his lips. Joe kisses back, and you both stand there for a few minutes, catching their breath.

You look at each other, smiling. You feel his cum oozing out of your pussy and dripping down your thighs. You can feel Joe's cum leaking out of your pussy and running down your thighs.

“Mmm, want you to walk into that party with my cum inside of you.” Joe smirks as he helped you fix your costume before fixing his.

“Anything you want, baby.” You winked at the quarterback before smiling and whispering in his ear, "I love you." Joe smiles and kisses you again. "I love you too, baby.”

“Now let’s get going, we’re late.” Joe said smacking your ass one last time before grabbing his Cartier glasses and placing them on; helping you out of the house to head to Zach’s Halloween party you were now late to.

As Joe strolled confidently into Zach’s house, you could say a wave of admiration and envy rippled through the crowd. The low hum of murmurs intensified as eyes fixated upon the man making his entrance, hand in hand with the most breathtaking woman in the room. Joe’s posture was impeccable, his stride radiating self-assurance that only a man well aware of his worth possessed— that and he just recently fucked the living shit out of you not long ago.

His pride swelled within him as he gazed around, observing the envious glances and whispered conversations that hung in the air like a delicate mist. He knew the world was aware that this remarkable woman belonged to him, a fact that only added fuel to the fire of his confidence

They knew you belonged to Joe and only Joe. It was not the matching costume you two were wearing, maybe the fact that you literally had Joe’s surname hanging down your neck, or maybe it was the fact that you and Joe walked in with watching bruises; your neck was littered with fresh purple hickeys that Joe had left while Joe had the same amount all around his neck and bare chest— you both didn’t seem to care.

Everyone was captivated by your beauty, but Joe knew your allure went far beyond mere physical appearance. It was your magnetic personality, your wit, and intelligence that made you the most sought-after woman in any room. And yet, you had chosen him, validating the relentless pride that throbbed through his veins.

The place was filled with Joe’s teammates and their significant other— whom you and Joe stopped to greet along the way. While some of the people were unknown to both you and Joe, which made you think that Zach invited everyone he knew.

As the two of you moved gracefully through the crowd, you could feel the intensity of their gazes, their admiration mixed with a tinge of envy. Some approached to offer compliments, while others lingered at a distance, unable to tear their eyes away— they were either jealous of Joe for having you or jealous of you for having Joe. The sparks of jealousy danced in their eyes, confirming what Joe already knew; that he possessed something coveted by many but obtained by few— when he means few he means him and only him.

In that moment, Joe reveled in the awareness that his own worth had elevated because of the woman by his side— yeah, he was Joe Burrow, the star quarterback of the Bengals but he felt prideful to just be called your boyfriend. Joe basked in the knowledge that you had chosen him, above all others, to share your radiant presence. It was a validation, a testament to his charm and allure, that fueled his pride to unprecedented heights.

But amidst the enveloping pride, there remained a sense of responsibility. Joe knew that he had an obligation to love, respect, and cherish this remarkable woman. He had seen firsthand how your grace and vulnerability complemented his strength and confidence. Their connection was built on mutual admiration and shared ambitions, and he vowed to honor that by being the partner you deserved.

…

The Morning After

As you slowly awakened from your hazy slumber, your head felt heavy, pounding with the remnants of the previous night's indulgence. Your eyes struggled to adjust to the soft morning light that filtered through the curtains. The dull throb in your temples reminded you all too vividly of the hangover that had settled in, like an unwelcome guest.

But as your consciousness grew clearer, you became aware of a comforting presence beside you. You turned your head and saw him, your loving and patient boyfriend, sitting patiently by your side. Joe’s face was etched with concern, yet his eyes radiated warmth and understanding.

You couldn't help but feel a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude. Embarrassment for letting yourself indulge too much and that he had to witness you in such a sorry state. And yet, overwhelming gratitude surged within you, grateful to have someone by your side who was willing to care for you even when you were at your less glamorous moments.

Joe reached out and gently brushed a few strands of tangled hair away from your face, his touch tender and soothing. The simple act brought you a tiny dose of comfort, a reminder that you were not alone in your momentary weakness.

"Good morning," he murmured softly, his voice laced with a blend of empathy and playfulness.

You attempted a smile, though it was met with a wince as a sharp pang of pain reverberated through your forehead.

"Don't worry, I've got you," Joe aid, his voice laced with reassurance. "I'm here, baby. You’re okay." He places a kiss on your forehead.

“I love you.” You whispered. “I love you too, bubs.” Joe smiled at you.

Joe rose from his seat and returned moments later with a cool glass of water and a plate of plain toast. Despite your queasy stomach, you gratefully sipped the water, allowing its soothing touch to calm the parched sensations within your mouth. Joe leaned back, observing you with an understanding smile, quietly ensuring you weren’t pushing yourself too hard.

As you nibbled on the toast, you watched your boyfriend while he moved about the room, gathering the remnants of your night's festivities, taking care of every detail that would allow you to recover at your own pace. The way Joe moved with grace and thoughtfulness warmed your heart, reminding you of his unconditional love.

You felt a deep rush of affection, acknowledging how lucky you were to have somebody who cared so deeply for your well-being. Joe didn't judge you for your occasional moments of vulnerability, but instead embraced them as an opportunity to shower you with love and care.

In that moment, you realized the profound beauty of their connection, built on trust and unwavering support. It was during times like these, amid the discomfort and vulnerability, that your bond only grew stronger.

As the minutes slipped away, so did the piercing headache and the feeling of vulnerability. You felt yourself being slowly nursed back to life, Joe’s gentle tenderness mending the invisible cracks within you.

In that quiet moment of recovery, you realized that your love, at its core, was about being there for each other through life's messiness and imperfections. And as you watched Joe continue to take care of you, you couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of love - love for him, love for yourself, and love for the beautiful moments of vulnerability that ultimately brought them together.

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freedomfireflies · 8 months

Text

Always*

Summary: The fifth and final part to 404*

The one with car crashes and closet sex.

Word Count: 4.3k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

Arrogant Twat: Playing hooky, that’s not like you

Arrogant Twat: You’re not that cool

Arrogant Twat: I can see you reading my messages you know

Arrogant Twat: So if you’re ignoring me, it’s not working

Arrogant Twat: …okay seriously this is really fucking childish, are you really not gonna come to work just because I won’t fuck you?

Arrogant Twat: It’s been three days, Princess, you can’t hide from me forever

You: You are so fucking annoying, I am not hiding from you, I’m SICK

You: This may come as a surprise, but my world does not revolve around you or your cock

You: So if you don’t mind, I need to go throw up

Tossing your phone down onto the bed, you rush into the bathroom to grasp onto the sink and brace yourself over the porcelain. Silently willing your body to comply, to keep the fluids down. You don’t want to be sick, but thinking about Harry always tends to make you.

You smirk to yourself at the joke before running your hands under the cold stream of water to gently rinse off your face. Needing to feel something cool against your feverish skin before you slink back to bed.

Truth be told, you don’t mind the break from work. And from Harry, specifically. Sure, you understand why he ended things. And you aren’t exactly upset about it, seeing as he wasn’t really that great of company to keep.

But he’s angry. You know he’s angry, and that’s why he claimed he wanted to stop. And you feel guilty over having pushed him there, you do. After all, you knew better. You two don’t talk about anything personal. You don’t ask questions, you don’t pry. You don’t show any sort of emotion or understanding.

You broke the one rule. And truthfully, you aren’t quite sure how to face him now.

Overcome with fatigue, you slump back down onto your bed, and disappear beneath the covers. Pulling them up to your chin as a shiver rolls down your sweaty skin, all the way to your fuzzy sock-covered toes.

You try to watch some television to get your mind off the pain and congestion but find yourself growing sleepier with each quippy remark from Chandler Bing.

And before you know it, you’re out like a light.

The sharp chime of your cellphone is what wakes you. Pulling you from a rather odd dream as you groggily roll over and attempt to find the noise.

It’s a text message, followed shortly after by another. And once you manage to sit up and rub the sandman from your eyes, you see who it’s from.

Arrogant Twat: Open your door

Arrogant Twat: And hurry up, it’s fucking freezing out here

Curious, and a tad startled, you glance toward your bedroom door, almost as if expecting to see him.

He can’t possibly be outside of your apartment building right now. He has no idea where you live, nor would he ever have any desire to be here. This has to be some sort of prank. He’ll get you to walk outside into the freezing night air only to realize he’s nowhere to be found.

That is the Harry you know.

Arrogant Twat: For the love of God, Tinkerbell, open the fucking door before I freeze my ass off

With a huff (and a cough), you fling your covers back and pad over to your window, glancing down into the street.

And there he is, a dark shadowy figure lurking on the steps to your building, angrily glaring at his cellphone.

You feel your heart start to pound, overcome with confusion and intrigue. You don’t understand why he might be here or what he could possibly want so late at night. You’re tempted to send him away, or pretend he has the wrong address.

But you can’t deny that you’re curious as to what he might want or what he’ll say. Especially after the way things ended. Perhaps he’s merely here to catch you up on what you’ve missed with the project. Or maybe he just wants to complain in person.

Either way, you slip on some pajama shorts and a large, oversized sweatshirt for comfort, and head for the door.

With a deep breath, you buzz him in, and wait anxiously as the sound of steps echoes through the stairwell and between the halls.

No matter what happens, you’ll stand your ground. You don’t have the energy to fight him today. If he’s coming into your home, he’ll play by your rules.

There’s a knock on the door. Sharp and precise as you exhale shakily and step closer. Fingers curling around the doorknob before you swing it back and come face to face with the troublemaker himself.

He stands in the doorframe, a dark hoodie pulled over his head, and glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.

In his right hand, he holds a brown bag, allowing it to dangle casually at his side while his eyes rake up and down your figure.

“Shit, you look terrible,” he snorts, pressing his shoulder against the entryway. “Worse than usual, I mean.”

Your expression falls, a glare beginning to form. “Well, this was fun. Buh-bye now,” you huff, already beginning to shut the door in his face.

However, he’s quick to outstretch his hand and smack his palm against the wood, keeping it open. “Okay, all right. Geez, it was just a joke. D’ya lose your sense of humor or something?”

“No, that just wasn’t funny,” you retort, but allow the door to stay ajar. “What do you want?”

He lifts the bag into the air and shakes it once. “Brought you soup.”

You blink. “You…what? Why?”

He shrugs once. “Cause you’re sick,” he says, now brushing past you to make his way into your living room. “And I’m nice.”

“Uh…no,” you nearly scoff, turning around to watch him flop down onto your sofa. “You are anything but nice to me, and you know it.”

“Well, I’m being nice today.”

“Why?”

“Yeah, why? Is it poisoned or something?”

You catch his wry smile as he begins to unpack the items and set them onto your coffee table. “Guess there’s only one way to find out, yeah?”

Hesitantly, you shut the door, and follow after him. Cautious of his intentions but drawn to the smell of the delicious food.

He hands you a bowl and some cutlery – which you take rather tentatively – before he straightens up and stares at you. “Are you gonna sit down?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, eyeing the only spot available beside him on the couch. “Are you still gonna be an asshole?”

“Probably.”

You huff but catch yourself smirking. “Fine, but scoot over.”

With an amused exhale of his own, he does as instructed, moving toward the edge of the sofa to make room before sitting down as well.

Your small apartment fills with a rather uncomfortable quiet as the two of you begin to dig into your food. The silence accompanied by faint slurps and sips that almost make you smile.

And it feels weird to be here with him like this. Relaxing on the couch, eating some soup like you don’t despise each other.

Perhaps you’d even enjoy his company under any other circumstance.

Clearing your throat, you angle your body toward his, studying his profile as his eyebrow raises. “Why are you here? Really?”

He shifts in your direction as well, grinning deviously from behind his takeout container. “Told you, I’m being nice—”

“Wrong. You’re never nice. Besides, you just accused me of hiding from you, so I don’t exactly think we’re on the best of terms.”

This makes his amusement fade, a subtle frown beginning to form as he shrugs one shoulder up in a nonchalant manner. “I don’t know. I guess it’s an apology.”

“For what?”

“For saying that,” he admits, almost quietly. Avoiding your eye as he stares at his noodles. “And maybe I kind of thought you were lying and wanted to see for myself.”

“Would you like me to vomit for you? Will that prove I’m actually unwell?”

He smiles again. “Nah, I’m good—”

“Really, it’s no trouble. I’ll do it right now, all over your lap—”

“All right,” he groans, leaning back with a crinkled nose. “Ew. No. I believe you, Princess. Fuck’s sake.”

Satisfied, you nod once. “Great. Now, onto my next question. How the hell did you get my address?”

“How do you think?” His expression is mischievous. “Got it from your file.”

“What? Why do you have access to my file?”

“Cause Prescott’s security system is way too easy to hack,” he says simply. “And I knew you’d never tell me.”

“Right. Because we don’t do that.”

“We don’t,” he agrees. “But we’re not fucking anymore, so it’s fine.”

“Oh, is it?”

“Yeah.”

“And how exactly does that work?”

“Because,” he begins, setting his things down on the coffee table, “if we’re not fucking, that means there’s no chance of you getting all clingy and attached.”

Your eyes narrow. “Uh-huh.”

“Which means we can hang out without you falling for me,” he finishes, rather smugly. “So it’s fine.”

“Just because we aren’t fucking doesn’t mean we’re friends,” you argue. “I still hate you.”

“I know. I hate you, too.”

Yet for some reason, you both smile.

“Now what’s the real reason?” you urge, nodding your chin at him. “Honestly. Why are you really here?”

He takes a beat to mull this over, standing from the sofa to collect his trash and take it to your kitchen. “Told you,” he finally says before tossing away his things. “You’re sick, and I felt bad.”

“Is that all?”

Another long pause settles between you as he readjusts the hood over his curls and saunters over to your window seat. “I didn’t want you to be hiding from me,” he admits as he slumps down, eyes flicking out into the dark night. “So I wanted to make sure we were good.”

You study him silently, taking in the way his hands disappear into the large pocket on his abdomen. “Yeah, we’re good,” you quietly reply.

He nods once but keeps his attention on the city. “Good. Cause you don’t have to hide, you know. We’re fine.”

“Yeah, I know. I just said that.”

His body lifts and falls with a small chuckle before he props his legs up onto the cushions and tosses his arms over his knees. “Well, you seemed pissed.”

“Well, I wasn’t the one that threw a hissy fit and fled from the car,” you retort. “In fact, I’m the one that politely agreed and let you go.”

“Right, but you were pissy about it. I could tell.”

“You are so full of shit.”

He laughs again. “I just don’t want you to be mad at me.”

“Oh, I am. But not for that.”

He looks over. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’re annoying, and you’re rude, and you’re so fucking pretentious,” you list, fighting a grin. “But you have a right to keep things to yourself, and I shouldn’t have asked. So…I’m sorry.”

He nods once, as if acknowledging the apology before returning his gaze to the window. “S’fine.”

Another lull drifts into the conversation, minutes passing by before you notice his expression shift.

“It’s not you,” he murmurs, and your eyebrows lift.

“What?”

He shifts a bit before clearing his throat. “It’s not you, I just…I don’t talk about it. Or…her.”

Her.

The first piece to the rather large puzzle sitting before you, and you feel your breath catch as you await the rest.

You notice the way he hesitates. The reflection of the night sky in his glasses. The nervous tapping of his fingers.

“Cause if I don’t talk about it, then I don’t have to think about it,” he whispers. “And if I don’t think about, then I don’t feel like putting my fucking fist through a wall, you know?”

“I know,” you answer quietly. “You don’t have to, it’s okay.”

He snorts to himself, leaning forward. “She never should have been in that fucking car. I was supposed to drive her. She was supposed to be with me.”

And even without much context, you feel your stomach wrench, already anticipating what might have happened.

“But she was late,” he says. And it’s angry, the way he speaks. Resentful. “She was out with her friends, and she was late to meet me, and I had shit to do. So I told her. I told her I couldn’t take her to the fucking party she wanted to go to. Because I didn’t want to be out all fucking night. I wanted to get my shit done and go to bed.”

You feel your throat run dry, tears beginning to form as you watch him recall the memory.

“I told her to get an Uber,” he continues, aggravated at first before it settles into something soft and somber. “I made her get into that car, and I watched her go. And I didn’t fucking care. Because I wanted to stay home, so I made her go by herself, and it fucking…and she didn’t…”

Your feet desperately want to carry you to him. To provide him some sort of comfort as he keeps his glare on the city horizon.

But you stay seated on the sofa, waiting for whatever he might offer next as he takes a deep breath.

“And she was just gone,” he murmurs, the air in the room shifting instantly. “She was fucking gone not even an hour later.”

The first drop slips down your cheek before you can wipe it away.

He exhales an amused laugh, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “And I always think how funny it is that the last thing she ever said to me was, ‘Sleep well, H.’ And I haven’t slept well since.”

Now, he looks to you. Studying you almost sadly as you sit in wait.

“And then there was you,” he says. “You, and your shitty ass jokes, and your cocky little grin. You were everywhere. Every day. Sitting across from me, asking if I wanted to split a fucking everything bagel.”

You’re almost tempted to smile, but the truth of what he’s saying cuts too deep.

“And I hated it,” he admits, eyes flicking between yours. “I fucking hated it because you made me forget. Whenever I would talk to you, I would forget. I would just stare at you as you rambled on and on about the algorithm and the fucking API, and I wouldn’t think about her, and I’d forget how fucking angry I was.”

He smiles almost wryly, making your insides twist.

“And I didn’t want to forget,” he tells you. “I wanted to be angry. I wanted to punish myself for what I’d done. Because I didn’t deserve to forget. I didn’t deserve to be happy. Especially with you.”

You sit up, wrestling with the temptation to argue, but he’s already looking back out the window.

“So, yeah, maybe hating you was easier. And maybe fucking you was selfish, but it felt like the only choice. Because sex is just sex. And if I kept you at a distance – at least in some ways – I wouldn’t have to lose you, too.”

You stand and make your way for the window seat, settling in front of him as he turns to watch you. He looks like he wants to roll his eyes, perhaps in an attempt to avoid your pity, but you lean forward, nonetheless.

“You know it’s not your fault, right?” you whisper, ignoring his amused expression. “You don’t deserve to be punished for something you couldn’t control.”

He smirks, but you can see the hint of sadness written between the lines of his face. “Thanks, Dr. Phil. I’ll keep that in mind.”

But you don’t let him tease his way out of this, instead settling your hands atop his knees to recapture his attention. “I’m serious, Harry. I know she wouldn’t blame you. How can you blame yourself?”

His smug grin falters for half a second. “Because there’s no one else to blame.”

A lump lodges in your throat as you scoot a bit closer. “Exactly. It was an accident. Unfair and uncontrollable. But it was never your fault. It was never your burden to carry.”

He leans his head back against the wall, but his attention never leaves you. Almost as though he’s afraid to look away.

“You can hate me,” you tell him. “I don’t mind that. Hating you is easier for me, too. But you can’t punish yourself for this. You can’t keep yourself from being happy. Not when you deserve it more than anybody I know.”

And maybe this is the first time you’ve ever really understood him. The first time you’ve felt truly connected to the man before you – even more so than when he was inside of you.

Because suddenly, things don’t feel so heavy. The world doesn’t seem so dark. And maybe, just maybe…he’s not so bad.

He drops his legs and sits up to reach for you. A large palm slipping around the back of your neck while you suck in a quiet breath and lean away.

“No,” you whisper, making his eyebrows raise. “I’m sick.”

He laughs, almost as though enchanted by your response. That charming dimple reemerging. “I don’t care.”

“Well you should,” you argue. “Seriously, it’s gross over here. There’s snot and I’ve been coughing all day—”

“Tink,” he murmurs, moving closer, attention dropping to your lips. “Stop talking.”

So…you do.

You let his mouth press to yours, settling into the feel of his touch. Something you weren’t sure you’d ever get to feel again. And despite everything else…you’re content.

He kisses your top lip. Your bottom lip. Steals a breath right from your lungs before nudging his nose with yours. “I still hate you.”

Your fingers tangle into the dark hoodie on his chest. “Yeah. I hate you, too.”

He smiles.

You aren’t sure what to expect come Monday morning. After all, you’re never sure what to expect with Harry.

You left things…friendly but undecided. As far as you know, nothing has changed. Harry is still the arrogant twat you’re forced to tolerate, and maybe that’s all he’ll ever be.

But maybe…you’re okay with that.

If you never fuck him again, perhaps that’s not the worst thing. Becoming his frenemy is decidedly less exhausting than being anything else. And you suppose you don’t want much more than that. At least not right now. You’re happy to hate him for as long as he’ll let you.

But you aren’t sure how he’ll feel about his admission in the light of day. Maybe he’ll regret sharing something so personal. Maybe he’ll resent you for knowing it. Maybe he’ll request the two of you never speak again.

Lucas does his best to engage in small talk with you as you anxiously await Harry’s arrival. Politely ignoring the way you continue to check your watch and glance toward his desk.

In fact, you eventually become so engrossed in the conversation with the friendly newcomer that you miss that aforementioned ball of thunder striding through the lab.

Nothing seems out of the ordinary. He throws his things down and slouches into his chair to begin working. Not bothering with a greeting or even a look of acknowledgement.

Truth be told, you aren’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed.

And then the lunch hour begins. You assume he’ll disappear to the cafeteria as usual to grab a sandwich before returning to hide himself away in the lab.

Yet today is different. Today he stands up, turns around, and steps up to where you’re sitting.

Before you can even turn around, he dips down, and whispers, “Supply closet. Five minutes.”

With that, he’s gone. Slipping between the computers and desks before disappearing into the hallway as a smile stretches across your face.

After anxiously counting the seconds, you begin to follow. Double checking to make sure no one pays you any mind.

Once you’re satisfied, you make your way to the closet, and knock twice.

The door swings open, and you barely get the chance to offer a greeting before he’s tugging you inside, flinging the door shut, and pushing you up against it.

His lips find yours and it’s anxious. His kisses are desperate and rushed but so fucking addictive.

His hands are on your waist while yours disappear into his hair. His glasses are nudged out of place but neither of you care to stop and fix them. Instead groaning eagerly as he sucks on your tongue.

His hips press to yours, the subtle but familiar bulge hard against your thigh as you drop your head back and whimper. Anxiously pleading with him through a pointed look.

The flick of the button on your jeans is fast and practiced. The material pooling around your ankles while he works to tug his own pants down.

Two fingers hook onto the crotch of your panties to pull them aside before he slides the long digits through. Feeling just how frantic you really are.

He kisses you again as he slides them inside, curling and pumping just so. Smirking when he hears your arousal echo between the walls.

Nipping at your bottom lip, he whispers, “This doesn’t change anything. I still hate you.”

Sighing contently at the way his thumb massages your clit, you say, “Good. I hate you, too.”

He snorts. “Sure, Princess. Is that why you’re so fucking wet?”

To accentuate his point, he thrusts to the knuckle, stroking a particular spot that makes your toes curl and your eyes roll back.

“S’fucking pathetic,” he murmurs, glancing down, “how easy it is to play with you. Don’t have to do anything, do I? Just have to tease you a little and you’ll soak my fucking hand.”

Your fingers curl into his shirt, either as an act of defiance or out of need for stability. You aren’t sure.

“Cause you like it, don’t you?” he continues, moving his kisses to your neck. “Gets you off to be insulated. Degraded. Get all wet and squirmy at the thought of me putting you in your place, yeah?”

You don’t want to agree with him, but you both know he’s right. Even now, the cold cadence in which he speaks makes your legs shake.

“Yeah,” he answers for you in a soft but smug hum. “Know you do. Know you just wanna be put on your knees. Where you belong.”

With this thought, he pulls his fingers from your pussy, leaving you to wilt while he tugs his cock out.

There’s not much care as he swiftly and almost angrily tugs your leg up and throws it around his hip. He offers no words of reassurance or looks of encouragement while the tip drags through your folds before slowly disappearing into your cunt.

He ignores your strangled inhale, forehead finding yours as he grits, “Maybe I should do that next. Wrap your pretty ponytail around my fist while I fuck your throat.”

Your lashes flutter shut, nails scraping down his arms.

“Bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Tink?” He pauses for only a moment to let you adjust. “Like it when I make tears run down your face, yeah?”

However, you can’t offer him any reply. Instead focusing on the familiar ache that accompanies the stretch of his large size.

He pushes in a bit more, wary of your reaction, but overcome with pleasure at the way you take him. “You do,” he decides, that smile returning. “Can feel your little pussy clenching around me. Is that what you want, Princess? Want me to be mean to you?”

Truth be told, you suppose it is. Anything else wouldn’t feel right.

His hand raises to your throat, fingers curling around the delicate and soft skin of your neck before he squeezes once. Keeping your head pressed against the door.

“Take me,” he murmurs harshly before burying himself all the way. Ignoring your gasps and whines. “Fucking take me, Tink. Just like that. S’a good fucking girl. Always behave so well for me, hm? Just for me. Nobody else.”

He sets a slow but hard pace. Looking down at where his cock disappears into your pussy with a dazed look in his eye.

“Do you think about him, Princess?” he asks you next, giving your throat another squeeze. “D’ya think about your precious fucking Lucas when I fuck you? Or do you think about him when you’re all alone? Trying to get yourself off?”

Your mouth opens, ready to reply, but all that follows his remark is a desolate and strained whimper.

“Or do you think about me?” His lips ghost along the tender skin below your ear. Breathing softly before kissing the spot sweetly. A stark contrast to the vile way he speaks. “Think about how good I am to you…how I take care of you. Picture my hands, my voice, my fucking cock.”

And he’s right. In every fantasy, you see his face, first and foremost. Whisper his name into the air of your room as your fingers curl into your cunt.

It’s always him.

“Say it,” he murmurs now, offering another gentle kiss to your neck. “Tell me I’m the only one. Fucking tell me I’m the only one you cum for.”

Your fingernails move to scrape down his scalp, tangling in his soft curls as you subtly keep him in your arms.

You’re not too surprised by this request. Even if the two of you might never be anything more than friends, you imagine he needs to know. He needs to hear that even after everything, you still choose him.

You’re tempted to taunt him with a quippy retort. Egg him on, tell him he’s nothing compared to your vibrator.

Yet you find yourself whispering, “Only you, Har. Only ever you.”

For a moment, he stills. As if overcome by the words, the admission.

You pull him further into your embrace. “Always you.”

With a smirk, he leans back just far enough to meet your eye.

And you both smile.

“That’s my fucking girl.”

🥹 I can't believe we've made it to the end of the main series!!! No they're not technically together right now, BUT!!! There will be extras and who knows what they might get up to later ALSFJEFD

Thank you so much to everyone for reading and being so kind, I appreciate you all more than you know!!! You have my entire heart to heaven and back!!!! AND TINK, HARRY, AND I WILL SEE YOU AGAIN VERY SOON!! Specifically for the Halloween extra HAHAHA 😭♥️♥️

Next Part:

~ A-Mazing* (Halloween Extra)

Previous Part:

~ Jealous* (Pt. 4)

~ Full 404 Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

~ Blurb Masterlist

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @daphnesutton @love-letters-to-uranus @kirstiea05 @lovrave @princessprongs @nuggetdean @storyschanging

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pinkiealexie · 6 days

Text

"Night..." ✟ 𝐀𝐝𝐚𝐦

NOTE :

Romantic, and also female reader! Very fluffy and we have sleepy Adam which is why he might be a single grain of ooc. Also this is a very short ficlet like 600 words I think??

It was dark, more specifically 1 am in the morning, almost 2. You and your boyfriend Adam had stayed up the entire night to binge whatever shows or movies that appealed to your interest since picking out something to watch was usually very hard for anyone to do.

His mask was off along with the robe he always wore, right now he only wore black boxers and his band’s shirt, his head resting on your stomach as his focus was on the show that was currently playing on the screen, with your hand gently running through his dark hair. He wouldn’t even be watching the show at some points, his gaze would occasionally shift to you, admiring your beauty.

Despite Adam’s previous claims of ‘not being tired’ from earlier you could catch glimpses of his eyelids drooping every few minutes but didn’t call him out on it. Now you think you should since you wanted him to get a good night's rest, he was a pretty busy guy after all, “You tired?” Adam nodded; You were a bit surprised that he didn’t deny it this time, not that there was a problem with it so you let out a soft hum while grabbing the remote from the night stand.

“Lets go to sleep..I think that’s enough television for todayyyy…” Your own yawn interrupted you when you spoke, causing you to drag out the last word which caused Adam to quietly chuckle, making you let out a chuckle as well “Mmm, kay….”. It was times like this when Adam was so soft, and so vulnerable that you couldn’t help the way your heart would melt at his behavior.

A tired smile crept on your face when he adjusted himself into a more comfortable position, pulling you lower so that you were laying down on the bed so that he could move his head in between your boobs, his favorite pillows. Remembering that the remote was in your hand, you click the small, red power button to turn off the TV then gently throw the remote to land somewhere on the bed, not caring where it landed since finding it would be tomorrow you’s problem.

When placing your hand back down on the bed you felt Adam’s large hand gently and slowly go up your arm to find your own hand in the darkness of the room. Upon finding your hand, intertwined his fingers with yours and gave it a gentle squeeze almost as if checking you were actually there with him. With your free hand you gently traced and rubbed small circles into his back, causing him to let out a small moan of bliss.

His small breaths for air were quiet and soft, a small smile on his face instead of his cocky grin/smirk while he listened to your beating heart, his favorite melody “Night..love ya, baby…” his voice drowsy and barely audible yet you could still hear him.

You chuckled sweetly, planting a kiss on the top of his head one final time as you got comfortable and let out a content sigh, “I love you too…goodnight…”

...

In less than a few minutes he was already in a deep sleep, his soft snores being the only thing filling the room up. Looking down at him laying on you, you realized how the moon light shined down on his face through the curtain cracks.

It took you a few more minutes to fall asleep so you decided to admire his beautifully crafted features one last time before finally closing your eyes and drifting off into a peaceful slumber with Adam.

#ficlet #x reader #romantic #fluff #domestic fluff #adam x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam #adam hazbin hotel #adam hazbin x reader #hazbin adam x reader #adam x you #adam hazbin hotel x reader #alexie.writes

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cupid-styles · 9 months

Text

ginger ale (sugar daddy!h)

Harry is a rich CEO and Mia is a grad student that's eight years younger. It just so happens that they may be the answer to one another's problems.

Content warnings: age gap (8 years), sugar daddy dynamic, alcohol, smut, slight daddy kink

Word count: 8k (grab a snack and a bev and enjoy!)

masterlist | talk to me

Mia's never been attracted to older men but somehow, she's found herself sitting at a two-person table at one of the fanciest Italian restaurants in the city, nibbling on the end of the straw in her glass of ginger ale, awaiting the arrival of her date, a man who is eight years older.

To be fair, she got to the restaurant 20 minutes early and forced herself to sit in her car. She tried occupying herself by scrolling through Instagram and TikTok and playing a few rounds of Candy Crush, but she couldn't shake the anxiety bubbling in her stomach.

She weighed her options: she could drive away, go home, change out of this ridiculously uncomfortable outfit, order Chinese and rot on the couch all night. Or, she could text him here!:), go inside, say she's here for a reservation under Styles (a fake last name, she's almost sure of it), and actually give this guy a chance.

Mia desperately wishes she doesn't have a moral compass because indeed, all she wanted to do was binge watch New Girl until her eyes feel like they're going to roll out of her head, but she'd feel so shitty for standing her date up. Grumbling, she turned her car off, stuffed her keys in her purse, and walked into the restaurant, 15 minutes early.

Thankfully the staff doesn't bat an eye at her arrival time, instead escorting her to a rather private corner of the restaurant.

"This is Mr. Styles' table, but please let us know if you'd prefer something more suitable to your needs," The hostess explains as she places entree and drink menus in front of Mia.

"Oh, this is great, thank you," She replies, trying not to let any inklings of shock seep through her voice. This guy had his own table? Her eyes bulge as she glances over the wine list, her eyebrows raised slightly at the triple digit numbers accompanying fancy French names. How rich did he have to be to dine here that often?

Mia's phone buzzes, tearing her gaze away from the overwhelming menu. It's Harry, her date, who says he'll be there soon. Sorry you're waiting on me — order a bottle of wine for us, whatever you like, he'd written, making Mia roll her eyes. He must think far too highly of her if he thinks she knew what any of these wines even are.

She settles on her comfort drink instead, a ginger ale filled to the brim with ice. If this wasn't such a nice place, she would pop ice cubes between her teeth, but she figures that's a major faux pas for first dates at restaurants where a plate of pasta cost upwards of $50.

Despite meeting on a dating app and familiarizing herself with his appearance, Mia knows Harry has arrived before she even sees him. The staff seems to stand up just a little straighter and the baseline hum of conversation tapers off.

When she looks up, she understands exactly why: Harry, whose last name apparently really was Styles, commands a certain presence the second he enters a room. He's striking, fashionable, and charming, floating through the dining area with a luxurious air. Everyone — including Mia — seems simultaneously intimidated and turned on.

Thank god she decided to go on this date.

. . .

Harry is so tired.

Physically, he's been running his body into the ground for the past 8 years or so, ever since he took on the role of CEO at his uncle's company when he retired. He knows that he was insanely fortunate and privileged, and 27 was a rather ridiculous age to run an entire conglomerate. As a result, he feels the incessant need to prove himself and make sure every single one of his employees feel taken care of.

So, he doesn't have much a social life.

He has his core group of friends from college. He's close with his family. He has friends at work, and he attends numerous charity events and galas as an investor. In hindsight, he has it all — except for a romantic partner.

Harry doesn't think that you need a boyfriend or girlfriend for life to be complete, but he's certainly guilty of missing it. He hasn't had a serious partner since college, a sweet girl named Zyla, but they broke up shortly after graduating. Since then, Harry has gone on tons of dates — he knows he had so much, and he wants to share it with someone. However, it seems that all of those people are after the same thing: wealth.

He understands it. Truly, he does, and he doesn't think those people were necessarily bad. But after years upon years of shitty first dates, he's exhausted. His best friend Mitch and his girlfriend Sarah suggested he try out dating apps, so they helped him sign up for Tinder and Bumble, where were fine enough. They were good at helping him scope out people he'd actually mesh well with, but they usually ended in one night stands, never to be heard from again.

Harry is 35. He doesn't want wild sex with strangers anymore.

After a date at a bar with a guy who didn't even pretend like he was interested in him romantically, Harry snapped. If money was all he was good for, he would be upfront about it from here on out. It had gotten him everything else he could've ever dreamed for in this life — a gorgeous penthouse apartment, designer clothes and shoes, non-profit donations galore — so why not just use it to find his forever partner?

That night, after polishing off a bottle of red wine to himself, he swiped onto his dating app of choice, clicked on settings, and deleted his existing bio. Sarah had initially suggested making it about what he liked and what he was looking for, but he was eager to rid his account of its current description: "Born in London, permanent NYC transplant. Love art, books, and fashion. Send me your favorite Fleetwood Mac song."

Without a second thought, he typed in a new bio: CEO. Let me take care of you.

. . .

Harry Styles makes Mia extremely nervous.

He hasn't even sat down yet and her stomach already feels like it's in her throat, her lips parted slightly as she took in his presence. He looks so effortlessly cool, and she's nearly positive she saw his trousers on the Gucci Instagram page last weekend.

"Hey," Harry grins as he approaches the table, shedding his body of the navy blue blazer he wore, "Mia, right?"

"Mhm." She nods tightly, noting at how the waiter pulled Harry's seat out for him, placing the menus out in front of him.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Harry," he says as he settles into his seat. He glances up at the waiter and shoots him a charming smile. "Thank you, John."

John, apparently, quickly shuffles away. Mia squeezes her hands into tight fists under the table while Harry glances over the wine menu, though she was almost positive he was doing it as a courtesy if he knows everyone that works here.

"Did you have a chance to decide on a wine?" he asks, glancing up with raised eyebrows.

"Um, no," Mia mumbles, "I just got a... ginger ale."

She feels incredibly dumb now. What was she even doing here? She's wearing clothes from the clearance section of ASOS and a pair of platform oxfords, meanwhile, Harry's outfit looks like it cost her entire monthly rent.

"Oh, do you not drink? I'm sorry for assuming."

"I do," Mia replies with a shake of her head, her eyes drifting down back down to the drink list, "I just... don't really know any of these... and I also don't know how to pronounce most of them."

"That's okay. Is it alright if I pick one?"

Mia nods and rolls her lips into her mouth. She wonders if it was too late to escape — can she say she has to use the bathroom and try to sneak out the window? This has to be some kind of prank.

"Once we get our entrees, we can talk out the details of the arrangement, should you be interested," Harry murmurs, closing the faux leather of the main menu, "I'm not sure if you came prepared with certain stipulations, but I'm happy to hear any that you have."

Mia's eyes bulge, leaning forward slightly with furrowed eyebrows. "I'm... what?"

Of course, John decided to come back just as Harry's jaw ticked, looking just as confused.

"What can I get you two to eat this evening?" he asks, though Mia barely listens as Harry lists off some random wine, followed by a pasta dish. John looks down at Mia, who swallows harshly, grimacing.

"I'll do the same," she jumbles out. He nods and shoots her a smile before stepping away to put their orders in.

"What do you mean by arrangement?" Mia hisses out, leaning forward and keeping her voice low.

"You're joking, right?" Harry asks, a slight crinkle forming between his brows.

"Do you... what do you think this is?" Mia demands as she digs her fingernails into her palms. Does he think she's a prostitute or an escort? She doesn't think anything on her profile gives off that vibe, and while she knows she isn't dressed as nicely as he is, it isn't enough to warrant such an assumption.

"You... you read my bio, didn't you?" Harry questions, sitting back in his seat, "You understand what I'm looking for?"

"I have no fucking clue what you're talking about, Harry." Mia's teeth are gritted, her jaw set in annoyance.

He leans forward again, glancing over his shoulder to make sure none of the waitstaff is walking by. In a hushed tone, he mumbles something intelligible out.

"What? I didn't hear you."

"I'mlookingforasugarbaby."

"A what? Can you speak up a little?"

"A sugar baby!" Harry whispers out aggressively, clutching the corners of the table. Mia raises her eyebrows in shock and surprise, doing a mental recap of what she knew about Harry — she never would have swiped for him if that's all he was looking for, mainly because the whole concept made her too nervous. Their virtual conversations had been tame, consisting of normal questions about their occupations and hobbies. How did she miss this?

"I... I didn't know that's what you were looking for," Mia replies slowly, "Your profile didn't say anything about that..."

"Yes, it did!" Harry nearly whines, "'Let me take care of you?' That literally implies a sugar baby situation!"

"Are you serious?" Mia asks, her face twisted in a cross between confusion and disgust, "You think people understand that's what that means?"

"Obviously!"

Mia shakes her head and grabs her napkin from her lap, tossing it on the table. She feels so discouraged and frustrated, there's no way this Harry guy wasn't a total creep.

"Wait— Mia, don't go," Harry says, following her lead and standing from his seat, "Please, I'm sorry about the confusion. This isn't a reflection on you whatsoever. Can we just talk? I'll explain why I'm looking for this type of thing, treat you to dinner, no strings attached."

Mia sighs. Harry's expression and tone seem genuine and if she's being completely honest, a little naive, too. She's already here, hungry, and dressed up. It wouldn't hurt to stay.

"Fine," she mutters, plopping back down in her seat, "But you're getting me the cheesecake for dessert. And you're paying for my parking."

A small smile wiggles its way onto Harry's lips. "I'd be honored."

Mia has to look down at the tablecloth so he doesn't see the blush warming her cheeks.

. . .

Over large plates of pasta slathered in decadent sauces, Harry explains why he's in the market for a sugar baby.

"I've never looked for this type of relationship before—"

"Yeah, no kidding."

"Anyway, I'm so used to people only being interested in me for my money so I figured why not try to use it to my advantage, I guess. I'd want it to be as casual as possible... like I really am just looking for someone to come to events with me, maybe hang out on the weekends and go out on dates if we clicked enough."

Mia nods her head as she chews her penne vodka thoughtfully. "And what would I get in exchange?"

"Well, what do you want?" Harry asks through wine stained lips, "Do you have any bills you want paid? Student loan debt? Clothes, electronics, furniture?"

"How rich are you?" Mia questions before sipping on her second ginger ale of the night.

"I'm... definitely wealthy," Harry replies carefully, "My net worth is in the millions, if that tells you anything."

"You could've just said you're a millionaire."

"Are you always this bratty?"

She huffs, leaning back against the plushy velvet of her chair. She takes the lull in the conversation as an opportunity to sincerely contemplate the logistics of this situation: She stayed for the free meal from the rather... attractive, and apparently disgustingly rich man, but was she seriously, actually considering going through with this?

No. It was crazy.

Wasn't it?

"I can see you're having some sort of internal moral battle," Harry murmurs after taking a sip of wine. "I told you, no strings attached here. If you're not interested, it's more than okay."

"I don't know," Mia says, breathing out through her nose as she lowered her fork, "I would be lying if I said I didn't need the... financial assistance, I guess."

"Let's talk money, then," he shrugs, leaning his elbows on the crisp table cloth. "What do you need help with?"

Mia hadn't grown up poor, but she certainly had never been rich. Her parents had modest careers and were now retired. They taught her the importance of saving and paying her bills on time. They instilled education in her as top priority and never pressured her to pick a career that would make her the most money, instead pushing values of true happiness and satisfaction. It's honestly how she ended up in her second year of grad school with hundreds of thousands of dollars of debt under her belt.

"Well, I'm a student and I work part-time. I'm in grad school to become a social worker. I pick up shifts at the university's library when I'm not in class, so probably like... three or four days out of the week."

Harry nods, listening intently. His gaze is intense and it makes Mia's face warm.

"That seems like a lot," he says, a twinge of sympathy creeping into his tone, "You must be tired."

Mia shrugs her shoulders. "I guess."

Admittedly, she's uncomfortable with the apparent empathy Harry emits. She's used to being fairly independent and working herself to the point of burnout, solely because it was what'd she been doing since she was an undergrad. She's never entertained the thought of someone helping her out, let alone with finances.

Pursing his lips, he nods slowly before folding his hands together. "Here's what I'm willing to propose. I usually have one or two events a week, sometimes work-related, sometimes just appearances or charity things. If you'd be willing to be my date to at least one of them, I'm happy to have you quit your job and supplement that income. I can also pay off some of your student loan debt, however much you're comfortable with. I'm more than willing to work around your schedule, so if you can't attend something, that's absolutely fine. If you're struggling with rent or other bills, just let me know, and I can take care of those, too."

Mia's mouth goes dry. Harry speaks entirely too casually about money, let alone paying off massive things in her name that she'd been stressing out about for years. She quickly tucks her straw back between her lips and takes a hearty sip of ginger ale, focusing on the earthy taste and carbonation filling her mouth.

"Why?" She blurts out after swallowing, "You don't know me. I'm just some girl in grad school. For all you know, you'll take me to one of these events and I'll embarrass the shit out of you, or someone will figure out how we got involved. Isn't that worse?"

He hums, contemplating the points Mia had made. They're valid, sure, but they weren't deterring him either.

"What would you have to gain from embarrassing me?" He asks, rolling his lips into his mouth contemplatively. "I've been embarrassing myself for years by going out on dates with people who only want my money to begin with. We both need help and this is the best solution I could think of on my end. There's no pressure to agree, but I just think... well, maybe, we could be the answer to each other's problems."

Mia's worrying her bottom lip between her teeth when John reappears, asking if they wanted any to-go boxes or dessert.

She doesn't order any cheesecake, but she does text Harry late that night as she lays alone in her bed, mentally running back through the night for the thousandth time: If you're still interested, I'll do it.

. . .

Mia doesn't hear from Harry for a few days.

Her mind runs rampant when she doesn't have her nose buried in a textbook doing homework or sitting through three-hour long lectures. She can't help but wonder if he's decided it's not a good fit, or maybe the entire situation was ridiculous to begin with. From what she knew about sugar babies — or what she thought she knew — was that they typically involved some sort of sexual favors in exchange for money, but Harry hadn't mentioned anything about that. All he asked for was for her to accompany him at an event once or twice a week, and he was willing to pay for her bills and chunks of her student loans.

Maybe the entire thing was just too good to be true.

So by day three, that's what Mia assumed. After all, he was a 35 year old millionaire — he definitely could do far better than a stressed out student.

She has an apple cinnamon candle burning and one of those eight hour long lo-fi YouTube videos on her TV, hoping the beat-ridden songs would somehow seep some level of productivity into her brain. She was working on a paper she had due in a couple of days, but she was only four out of 12 pages in, and she had the assignment for the past month.

She was just about ready to give up, blow out her candle, and tucker in for the night when her phone buzzes, the loud vibration echoing against the wood of her coffee table, making her jump. She didn't know what time it is, but she knew it was too late for any normal person to be texting her.

That's why she's only partially surprised when Harry's name pops up on her screen.

I have to go to a charity thing at a museum tomorrow night. It starts at 7 pm. Would you be available?

Mia was slightly confused by this — she thought that he would reach back out at some point to iron out the fine details, but it seemed as though Harry didn't care for those. She mentally goes over her schedule for tomorrow; she has classes from 10 am to 3 pm and she should work on this paper when she gets back.

What time would it end?

Nearly immediately after firing off that text, she tapped at the screen again: also, what are you doing up? It's almost 2 am.

The familiar speech bubble popped up almost instantly. Mia wedged her thumbnail between her teeth, biting at it as she watched the three dots.

It'll probably be over by 11 but I can always get you home earlier if you need. Also, I could ask you the same thing.

She pressed her lips together. There was so much she didn't know about Harry and yet, she couldn't help the way her body warmed ever so slightly at the thought of spending the night on his arm.

11 works for me. Should I know anything about the event or you before we do this? I don't want to embarrass myself by not knowing basic facts about you if I end up talking to people.

Mia's surprised when the dots immediately pop back up, but she supposes he's not doing much at 2 in the morning. She tucks her legs under her body and grabs the fuzzy blanket draped over the back of the couch as his next messages comes through.

Are you suggesting we play some sort of fuckboy 20 questions game?

She snickers at that and imagines the way his eyes widened teasingly, as if her request was as outlandish as asking him to come over for a late night hookup.

Which she would never do, and promises she hasn't fantasized about doing it every night since she saw Harry last.

Call it what you want, I just don't want to get kicked out of some fancy event because I don't even know your middle name.

She takes up her decades-long nervous habit of nibbling on her thumbnail when her phone starts vibrating in her palm, this time signifying an incoming call from Harry. She initially wonders if it's some sort of butt dial, panicking about answering it, but by the fifth ring she figures he would've caught on by now, so she quickly presses the green button and lifts it to her ear.

"Hello?"

"You didn't think we were gonna play 20 questions over text, did you?"

. . .

Harry thinks he could stay up until sunrise talking to Mia.

Conversation flows naturally, like they're childhood best friends and have known each other their whole lives. If he hadn't been born eight years before her in a different country, he would actually wonder if that were the case, but youthful, snappy remarks are enough to remind him that there's no way this girl ever existed in his life before. He would've remembered her, even if they'd only met for a moment.

They talk about anything and everything to soothe Mia's nerves about not knowing basic facts about one another. Her middle name is Lucille and she grew up in Connecticut with an older sister. They bond about being the youngest sibling and having divorced parents. Her comfort food is boxed macaroni and cheese, which makes Harry's nose wrinkle, though she swears it's the perfect meal to eat after a stressful day.

"What should I wear tomorrow night?" Mia asks sometime around 3:15, when their conversation begins to dwindle down. Harry hums and picks at a loose thread on his vintage tee-shirt.

"Any sort of dress will do," he replies casually, "I can always have my stylist send some options over if you'd like, just text me your size."

She snorts at that. "Yeah, I think I'll pass on that. You wore head-to-toe Gucci the other night and I'm pretty sure designer shit runs, like, three sizes too small on women."

"Point taken," Harry admits, backing off. "It's not too fancy of an event so don't stress. Do you have anything in mind?"

"Mm, maybe. I have a pink slip dress I wear on dates sometimes. Do you think that would be alright?"

Harry's stomach twists at the thought of Mia going out on dates with other people, but he quickly shoves the feeling down.

"Sounds pretty," he murmurs, clearing his throat. "Send me a picture before tomorrow night so I can match you."

Mia smiles to herself. "That's cute. I'll see you tomorrow then, yeah?"

"Yeah, my driver will pick you up at 6:30. Sleep tight, Mi."

"G'night, Harry," she says softly before hanging up the phone. She tries to ignore the way her heart warms at the new use of a nickname.

. . .

Mia has had a bad day.

She stayed up too late last night talking to Harry, and she's trying not to give too much weight to the fact that butterflies invade her stomach every time she thinks about their two-hour long conversation. She snoozed her alarm to the last possible minute so she couldn't take a shower before class this morning and her professor called on her when she wasn't paying attention, so she stumbled through some bullshit answer about child psychology like an idiot.

She didn't have time to grab lunch between her second and third classes, so by the time she got home, she was starving, tired, and grumpy, but she had to get ready for Harry's charity event. She stuffs a bagel down her throat and hopes there's decent food before jumping in the shower, pulling on her dress, and doing just enough with her makeup and hair. She's additionally grouchy that she didn't have enough time today to make a dent in her paper that's now due in only three days, but she knows she can only blame herself for poor time management.

When she receives a text from Harry that says "Here x", she tries to take a deep breath to rid herself of the day's worries and anxieties. Typically around this time, she'd be elbow deep in a carton of lo mein from her favorite Chinese restaurant and preparing a eucalyptus-scented bath, but she reminds herself that she already agreed to do this for Harry. And the money.

Her platform sandals click against the sidewalk outside of her home, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of a sleek black town car with a man standing outside of it.

"Mia?" he asks, his lips pressed in a tight line. She nods and he opens the door for her, motioning for her to get inside.

When she climbs in, she sees Harry on the interior, his thumbs tapping against the screen of his phone. He glances up to look at her and her breath stalls for a moment. He's wearing a baby pink silk shirt underneath his blazer, matching the exact shade of her dress.

"Hey," Harry smiles, tucking his phone in his breast pocket, "You look beautiful."

"Your shirt." she points out dumbly.

"What about it? Do you not like it?"

"I love it," she blurts out as the man shuts the car door closed, "I didn't think you were serious about the matching thing."

"That's silly. Why wouldn't I be serious about that?"

"I don't know." she mumbles with a shrug.

"Are you gonna buckle up?" Harry asks, nudging his chin in the direction of her seatbelt. She scrambles, feeling embarrassed as she hoists the strap across her chest, clicking it in. The car gently buzzes to life and glides down the road and out of Mia's neighborhood, just as she realizes she's definitely never been in a vehicle this nice before.

"How was your day?" Harry questions from beside her. Her fingers are wrung together in an awkward position in her lap and she has to clear her throat before answering, tugging the material of her dress down to cover more of her thighs.

"It was actually kinda shitty," Mia admits with a bittersweet smile. "Woke up late and didn't really have time to eat too much and my lectures were boring. And I have this kind of big paper due in a few days that I'm stumped on, so that's that."

Harry wrinkles his eyebrows and she can't tell if it's because he's disappointed or about to reprimand her. She prepares herself for the former based on the age difference, assuming the worst from assumptions she's made.

"I told you we would work around your schedule. If you need to do homework tonight that's perfectly fine, I can have Reese turn around and drop you back off."

Mia's slightly surprised at his soft-spoken response and she relaxes her shoulders at it. Harry notices, but he doesn't say anything.

"It's okay. I still have three days... well two since I probably won't work on it tonight."

"What are you stuck on?" he asks, pressing his lips together. Mia glances down at them for just a moment, but she instantly notices their natural muted pink hue. It reminds her of their first date, when they were stained red from wine. "I obviously don't know much about social work, but sometimes it helps to talk things out."

Mia nods at that before shrugging her shoulders, "I think it's mainly just an environmental thing. I spend most of my days on campus so I just want to go home when classes are done, and my neighbors are loud and I get too distracted at home. I can manage it fine, but I usually need an impending deadline to pressure me to work."

"Mm, yeah, I've been there," Harry replies with a chuckle. "Well, if you need a change of scenery, my place is always available. I have an office and guest room and such, whatever suits you. Won't even bother you to play 20 questions."

She lets out a laugh and shakes her head. "I admit, I didn't mind that distraction."

"Ah, so I'm a distraction now?"

He has that cheeky grin on his face — the teasing one that makes her blush and her heart stutter — and she giggles, forcing herself to look away so he doesn't see the way her face warms.

Maybe tonight won't be so bad.

. . .

Harry likes having Mia on his arm. A lot.

Maybe a little too much, really, but he's blaming it on the two glasses of wine and the lack of food in his stomach. Like Mia, he'd had a busy day with minimal time to eat, let alone breathe, and he probably would've ditched this entire thing if she hadn't agreed to be his date.

He's not even that special of a guest here. He was a frequent donor to the art museums in the city, and he'd supplied the exhibition with a couple of thousand dollars to get it off the ground. He didn't do it for anything other than the fact that he had too much money and didn't know what to do with it, and his sister always asked to visit this particular museum every time she was in town.

Harry discovers that Mia is actually quite good at schmoozing and chatting with wealthy people. She plays the part of Harry's girlfriend well, and the sight makes his throat dry. She's sweet and kind to everyone they talk to, even if they bring up points that are painfully boring, and she wraps her hand around his as they meander around the room, picking at h'ordeuvres and refilling their glasses.

It almost feels natural.

Sometime around 10 pm, though, he can feel her posture slump slightly and yawns begin to escape her. He excuses them from the conversation he was just barely paying attention it and smoothly guides her with his hand at the small of her back.

"'s a matter?" she whispers, her eyes widening. "Did I do something wrong?"

"What? No, of course not. You're getting tired though, hm? I wanna make sure I get you home at a reasonable hour."

Mia blinks a few times, a look of confusion crossing over her face. "You said 'til 11 though, right?"

"There's no reason for us to stay any longer and you've already done so much by being here, Mi," Harry murmurs as he fires off a quick text to let Reese know they're ready to be picked up. "Lemme get you home, okay?"

She doesn't argue any more at that, and that's how he can tell she's genuinely exhausted. He smiles gently and shrugs his blazer off, then wraps it around her shoulders.

"It's gonna be cold out there, temperature was slated to drop a bit," he explains shortly, swallowing at the sight of her in his jacket. "Reese will be here any minute if you're ready to go, though."

Mia nods. As Harry turns on his heel to exit the building, she reaches out without thinking, intertwining their fingers together. He turns instantly, wanting to make sure that she was okay, but all he sees are wide eyes and a furious blush.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she scrambles, dropping his hand, "I... don't know why I did that, I'm sorry, I'm tired."

Harry smirks. "We can hold hands if you want, babe."

She scowls at his teasing tone but nevertheless reaches outward once more to grasp his hand in hers.

"If you make fun of me for this when I'm sober and not as sleepy, I'll kick you in the shins."

He lets out a loud laugh, "Wouldn't dream of it."

. . .

Harry doesn't hear from Mia for two days.

He tries to distract himself with work and the gym, but he's lying if he says he's not checking his phone every five minutes for a text from her. He wants to message her first, but it's been years since he's had... feelings, whatever they may be, for someone, and he doesn't want to overwhelm her. So for two days, he busies himself with going over reports, bringing work home and passing out on the couch with his laptop still open.

Finally, on Thursday night, Harry has Friends on TV while he scrolls mindlessly on Instagram. His phone suddenly alerts him of an incoming call, and his fingers itch at the sight of Mia's name. He doesn't even have it in him to wait 10 seconds before he picks up.

"Harry?" She sounds stressed as he rushes out his name before he's able to say hello.

"Mia?" He echoes her panicked tone, "Are you alright? What's wrong?"

"My paper is due in five hours and I still have four pages to go and I— I don't know what to do, I'm freaking out, I'm so tired and I just— it's worth 70% of my grade and I'll fail the class if I don't—"

"Mi, breathe," Harry cuts her off, placing his elbows on his knees. "What do you need? Do you need to talk it out, read it out loud to me?"

It's silent for a moment and butterflies invade his stomach, wondering if he's pressed too hard. Maybe she just needed to vent.

"I was actually wondering if I could come over and work," Mia says softly. "It's fine if not, I'll be okay—"

"Yes." Harry replies, quick enough to make himself grimace. "Um, yes, of course, the offer still stands. I'll send Reese for you right now and I'll set you up wherever you want."

She breathes a sigh of relief into the receiver, mumbling out a series of "okay"s.

"Did you eat, darling?"

"N-no. I came straight home after work and I... just didn't have time to cook anything."

"Work?" Harry repeats, flashing back to their date two weeks ago, when he told her she could quit her job. "I told you I would supplement your income if you left."

"Well, um... you didn't exactly... pay for me for the event a few days ago and I just thought maybe our... arrangement, um, changed."

"Oh, sweetheart," Harry sighs, lifting his hand to his hair, pulling at the messy roots. "I'm so sorry, I thought... I assumed you would ask when you needed money. I've never done this with anyone else and I didn't even think."

She swallows thickly and pauses on packing her bag to bring to his house.

"Listen, let me order some food and when you get here, we'll work on your paper and I'll send you some money to make up for the other night, alright? We'll iron out the rest of the details, too. I don't want you to keep working yourself to the bone."

"Okay," Mia breathes into the receiver, and the muffled shuffling in the background resumes. "Yeah. Okay. Thank you, Harry. That sounds good."

"Of course. Reese is on his way, I'll see you soon."

"See you."

. . .

Mia wants to cry when Harry unlocks the door of his penthouse apartment.

She's so tired and burnt out and all she could focus on the drive over was whether or not her thesis was good and if she had enough points and data to reach the word count.

She wants to collapse the moment she steps inside, brushing past Harry with a small, forced smile, who is already in a pair of sweatpants, a worn tee-shirt, fuzzy socks and a pair of reading glasses.

The tears actually start when she glances over to the kitchen island to see a bowl of macaroni and cheese and a ginger ale.

"Eat," he murmurs as he reaches his arm out to take Mia's bag. She's stuck in her place though, eyes watering at the sight of her comfort meal in Harry's million dollar apartment. "Mi? You alright?"

She blinks the tears away and parts her lips, looking up at him with wide eyes. "You remembered."

Harry smiles gently and nods, pressing a hand to her upper back and guiding her to the dining room table. "Of course I did."

He shuffles down the hallway as Mia stuffs a few forkfuls of macaroni in her mouth. She doesn't realize how utterly starving she is until right now, and she has to admit that having some food in her system is helping soothe her anxiety.

Harry meanders back out as she's sipping on her ginger ale, "Okay, I set your stuff up in my office. Plugged your computer in, put your phone on do not disturb. I'll be in my room if you need anything."

"Wait," Mia jumps up, glass in hand. "Uh... I'm sure you worked all day and the last thing you want is to hang out while I write this paper, but would you... stick around, maybe hear some of my ideas out? I tend to get a little loopy when I'm stressed."

A dimpled grin wiggles its way onto Harry's face.

"I'd love to, Mia."

. . .

"Harry? Can you read this and tell me if it makes sense?"

It's been two hours of quiet typing, discussing Mia's thesis, and Harry playing mindless games on his phone until she asks him to go over something with her. He's exhausted — they both are, but she only has an hour before the deadline and they have no choice but to keep trucking on.

She hands him her laptop and he peeks through his glasses, reading the highlighted paragraph. It's something about community-based learning opportunities connecting to abuse victims, and while the only relevant knowledge he has is from a freshman psychology course, Mia is knowledgeable and great at what she does. She breaks down concepts in a way that's easy to understand and listening to her talk about something she's passionate about makes his heart swell with joy.

"Looks great, Mi," he murmurs as he passes her laptop back, "How much more do you have left?"

"That was actually it." She says with a bright smile despite her tired eyes. "I can submit it now as long as all that sounds good."

Harry grins and rises from the en-suite couch, stretching his arms out. Mia can't help but notice the sliver of his torso revealed as he bends back slightly and she swallows, refocusing back to the screen.

"D'you wanna stay over, darling? It's already 3 and I bought a six-pack of ginger ale that I won't drink."

Mia's heart tightens as she clicks 'submit', shutting her laptop and looking up at him.

"Are you sure that's alright? You've done so much for me already, I don't wanna be a bother."

"Not a bother," Harry mumbles, nodding his head in the direction of the hall, "Also, send me your Venmo so I can send some money over, hm?"

"Harry— wait, about that," she scrambles up from the desk, wringing her hands together behind her back as she steps towards him, "I don't want you to pay me for that night."

"What?"

"I don't know if this is... presumptuous of me, but I had a really nice time being your date. And I don't want you to pay me for that time."

"Oh," Harry mutters, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. "You need money though, don't you?"

"Well, I'm not at your status but that's not why I'm here. Or why I went with you the other night."

"What?"

Mia swallows and takes a deep breath. "I like hanging around you, Harry. I like who you are. I don't want this to be a financial exchange if... if you want the same thing."

"Really?" Harry asks, blinking owlishly at the girl, "You... you don't want me for my money?"

She shakes her head. "No. I don't."

"I like you," he blurts out, making a smile appear on her lips. "I don't want that arrangement either."

Her shoulders relax and her smile turns into a grin. He steps closer to her and tentatively reaches out to press a hand to her hip, waiting to see if she'll reject his touch.

"Can I kiss you?" Harry asks softly, glancing down at her mouth. "I've been dying to since that first night."

Mia nods quickly, breathing out an affirmative answer. He leans forward and smears their lips together, nearly moaning out in relief from the feeling of closeness he'd been dying for. She stands on her tippy-toes and wraps her arms around his neck, pressing her chest up against his. It's warm and wet and so nice, but he forces himself to break away, leaning her forehead against his.

"That was nice." she murmurs, little puffs of air leaving her mouth. He nods eagerly and squeezes her hip.

"Perfect," he whispers. "Just... don't wanna rush things."

Mia raises an eyebrow, glancing down when she realizes Harry's hard length against her thigh. He grimaces in embarrassment — typically he's able to control himself far better, not getting a boner from a two minute kiss, but he's been dreaming about finally getting to kiss her.

"Oh," she sighs, and Harry swears he notices a slight glint in her eyes when she glances up at him. "You feel.. big."

He breathes out a chuckle, "Don't stroke my ego, sweetheart, can only take so much tonight."

"Can I... am I allowed to touch?" Mia questions, her voice soft and peeked with curious. Her eyelashes flutter as she peeps up at him, biting down on her bottom lip.

"Only if you want to. Don't feel pressured to do anything, it'll go away on its own."

Harry's honest in his answer, not wanting her to feel obligated by any means, but he's lying if he says he isn't thrilled when she slowly sinks to her knees, palming at his crotch on her way down.

"Fuck," he mutters, swallowing harshly at her sweet doe eyes batting up at him.

"When's the last time someone took care of you?" she murmurs as she gently tugs his sweatpants down, leaving him in a navy blue pair of briefs. His cock is nearly bursting out of them and she licks her lips at the visual, her mouth parting slightly.

"Doesn't matter," Harry replies in a strained voice. She pulls his underwear down to reveal his painfully hard cock, slapping up against his lower stomach with a bubble of pre-cum at the tip. "Wanna take care of you, darling."

Mia giggles at that and begins to pepper kisses along the tops of his thighs. Her fingertips wiggle between his legs, just below his balls, encouraging him to part them so she can sponge kisses along the skin there.

"Can I touch, please?" she asks, looking back up at him. He nods and sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, groaning when her hand wraps around the base, squeezing lightly. "I was right. Your cock is big and pretty."

"You're gonna make me cum just from that dirty mouth." Harry mutters, lulling his head to the side as she slowly pumps his length. She moves her mouth to hover over his length and spits, letting saliva dribble from her mouth onto his skin. The mix of her spit and his pre-cum are enough lubrication to help her jerk him at a steady pace, and she smiles when she hears his choppy breathing from above.

Mia mouths over the tip of his cock and sticks her tongue out, licking up the leaking fluid. "Mm, you taste good," she mumbles, almost as if Harry wasn't meant to hear her, "I want you to fuck my face and cum down my throat, please."

He chokes at her casual tone and reaches down to thread his fingers through her hair. "Are you sure, baby? 'M perfectly content with just watching you on your knees like this."

With her cheek pressed against his thigh, she smiles brightly at the use of the pet name, still nodding her head at his question.

"Mhm. I usually don't like deep-throating but your cock is really nice... wanna taste you and feel you burst in my mouth."

"You're gonna fuckin' kill me."

She lets out a giggle as Harry slowly guides his cock into her mouth. She takes him with ease, relaxing her throat until she's taken most of him. He inhales sharply through his nose as she takes initiative and begins bobbing up and down, drool starting to leak from the sides of her mouth. He groans as he watches her, growing comfortable when he sees how eager she is, and moves his hips in time with her movements until her nose is flush against his pelvis.

"Fuck, Mia," Harry moans when she gags around his tip. Mascara-stained tears flow from her eyes and down her cheeks, but she doesn't give an inkling a discomfort, only doubling down on her efforts with a muffled whimper.

She releases for a moment and he's prepared to ask if he's being too rough as she wipes spit from her chin, "You can go harder, I'm fine. Also, is it alright if I call you daddy?"

"Jesus Christ," Harry guffaws, allowing his head to duck back fully now, "Yeah, sweetheart, choke yourself on daddy's cock."

Mia grins and squeezes her thighs, instantly diving back in. Harry bucks his hips, fucking her throat deeper and faster as his orgasm quickly unravels in his body. Lightning zips throughout him, his groans quickly getting louder every time she gags around his length.

"I'm gonna cum," Harry warns, the familiar feeling building. He looks down at her and watches her greedily take him, and that's all he needs before he's exploding. "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum, fuck—"

He's filling up her mouth with rapid ropes of warm cum and she moans at his taste, letting him empty his balls and continue using her throat. He breathes harshly as his peak slowly ends and she slides off of his sensitive cock, cum spilling out the corners of her mouth.

Without a word, he pulls her up and surges forward, pressing their lips together. She squeaks in surprise but eagerly kisses him back, their tongues swapping the fluid he just emptied into her mouth. They part with harsh breaths, Mia clutching his shirt with tight fists.

"Was that okay?" she asks as he wipes the remaining mix of spit and cum from her lip.

He smirks and shakes his head, "You're silly for even asking that. It was amazing."

"Mm, good."

"C'mon, I'm not letting you go home at this hour. You can stay in the guest room if you don't want to sleep with me."

"I just swallowed your cum, I think you owe me a cuddle, Styles."

He lets out a loud laugh and tugs at her hand, out in the direction of the hallway and to his bedroom, "Whatever you want, darling."

. . .

The next morning, Mia wakes up in a huge, comfy mattress, surrounded by luxurious tufts of white duvet.

For a minute, she forgets where she is, until she's reminded of the night before. She blushes at the overwhelming happiness that floods her body, remembering the way Harry held her all night and pressed kisses to her cheeks and forehead every time he woke up.

When she opens her eyes, she's expecting to see him, but she's met with an empty mattress. She sits up with furrowed brows until she zeroes in on a folded note on his pillow with her name and a heart next to it.

Smiling gently, she opens it.

Morning, sweetheart. Got called into the office early and you looked too sweet to wake up. Make yourself at home, feel free to invade my closet or fridge.

Leaving you my credit card to treat yourself to something nice, too — just because we're not in this arrangement anymore doesn't mean I won't take care of you financially.

xx daddy

Mia squeals and falls back against the bed.

730 notes · View notes

kakushino · 7 months

Text

Knot Enough

Werewolf! Tomioka Giyuu x AFAB! Reader

Giyuu is hit by an unanticipated rut.

Tags: smut, in heat/rut, pheromones acting as aphrodisiac, knotting [& creampie (obviously)], possessiveness Word count: 2,4k

Masterlist

It was the start of an extended weekend - holiday on Thursday and you took Friday off - and you were happy to finally catch up on your anime binging. All was peaceful, you were in just your panties and an oversized shirt for comfort; you got through two episodes so far, you were stocked up on snacks and drinks, content to spend three days alone before your date with your new boyfriend, Giyuu.

You had met Giyuu through a friend of a friend and you hit it off very quickly. You just sort of… clicked together, like missing puzzle pieces, or soulmates or whatever. It was three months in, and you couldn’t be happier. You hadn’t yet passed the kissing stage, but Giyuu seemed a little shy, which was perfectly fine. It wasn’t as if either of you were uncontrollable horny teens.

You were in the middle of watching a mage and his apprentice acquire a grim familiar during a tension filled-scene when your doorbell rang.

“Fuck-!” you were so into it, the noise nearly made you jump out of your skin. Pausing the episode and putting your snacks on the coffee table, you padded over to the front door. The peeking hole showed you your boyfriend with a troubled expression. Worried, you quickly opened it. “Giyuu?”

The sound of your voice snapped him from a trance and his fever-bright eyes met yours. A smile spread on his face and slight blush decorated his cheeks when he walked forward without asking to come in. Unusual.

“Is everything okay?” The door closed.

Your boyfriend didn’t respond, kicking off his shoes - another odd thing, he was a very neat person - and tugging you into a tight hug, burying his face in your neck and inhaling deeply. A shudder seemed to go through him the moment he took you in.

He spoke at last. “I know we’ve only just started dating,” he started in a low rasp. The sound of his voice so close to your ear sent goosebumps crawling across your whole body. “But my rut just arrived and I-” he cut himself off with a sharp exhale, his nose touching the side of your neck when he took a deep breath again.

You were beyond confused. “...rut? What do you mean?”

Giyuu’s arms wound even tighter around your form. It was a bad time to start explaining but he needed to, he needed you to understand and to act - to help him. “I’m not human.”

You could only gasp. “What are you-?”

“I’m a wolf at times… and this wolf affects me even in human form. I need to-” he shuddered again, his lips gliding down your neck to where your shoulder met it. He licked the spot, trying to stem his hunger for you. “Please let me- let me fuck you,” he said in a breathy voice.

His desperation sent a flare of desire throughout your entire body. Your mind reeled with his admission. This whole scenario reminded you of the monster porn you read once or twice, but what did it mean for you?

“Please,” he begged hoarsely, one of his hands pushing on the small of your back to press your belly against the bulge in his pants.

Giyuu had never begged you before, he'd never expressed himself so boldly before. Just because of that, you were leaning towards giving in.

It didn't help that he smelled so good.

"Okay."

No sooner had that word left your lips, his own slotted against yours in a deep and desperate kiss that stole your breath away.

He backed you up against the wall, his hands holding your hips to grind against you and yours in his hair, the leather cord he used to tie it coming loose quickly as you lightly tugged on it. He released a sinful moan into the kiss, sending a delightful shiver down your spine.

Giyuu guided you both to the bedroom - you later wondered how he knew which room it was - tugging at your oversized shirt, clearly wanting it off, an impossible feat without pulling back from the kiss.

Just when you thought he would give in and tear it in off, he actually did let you discard it peacefully.

Your panties did not receive the same tender care.

With a growl of "I'll buy you some later," he laid you onto the bed tucking himself between your legs. One of his arms supported his weight by your head, the fingers of the other impatiently delving into your pussy to prepare you as soon as possible. One, two, three digits stretched you out in a quick manner while all you could do was sigh and moan softly, your eyes locked onto each other as you quivered under his form, mind hazy.

Giyuu had wanted to take his time on your first night… before his rut hit him. Now, he just wanted to eat you alive.

“I want you,” Giyuu whispered breathlessly. “I need you.”

You nodded shakily, still trying to find your bearings from the stretch of your pussy on his fingers. He pulled them away, making you gasp at the emptiness, your muscles clenching around nothing as you heard his belt buckle open.

The sound of it had never been so enticing before.

You blinked slowly and looked at him.

You weren’t a virgin, but you had never seen a cock like his - thick and long and so, so pretty, with a strange swelling around the middle. But a brief glance was all you could get before he was onto you, kissing you deeply, sloppily. He was in a daze, his eyes half-lidded.

“Lovie, gods, I need you-”

Giyuu lined himself up against your entrance and slid in slowly, the stretch of his tip entering you feeling so much more than his three fingers, even if it didn’t seem like it. “F-fuck, slow- slow downngh-”

He immediately stopped and pulled away from your face, eyes glistening with unshed tears, guilt and anguish clear in his expression. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he muttered, looking so wounded as if he were the one being speared open with a cock.

You breathed through the burn, your hands cupping his cheeks gently. “Just go slower okay? I’m not- it’s just been a while,” you reassured him.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you,” he leaned closer, resting his forehead against yours. “Please forgive me, lovie.”

Your thumbs caressed his face softly as you murmured, “You’re fine, Giyuu. You just need to go slow, okay? Can you do that for me?”

He closed his eyes, and hummed in agreement, sliding more of himself in slowly, as you’d told him to. He kissed you in an unhurried passion, enjoying you - your taste, your heat, your body against his.

The burn wasn’t as bad this time, though as you threaded your fingers in his hair, you had to grip it tight when the swelled middle started to slide in. You broke away from him to breathe, clenching your eyes shut as Giyuu murmured apology after apology, peppering many soothing kisses all over your face and then-

Giyuu slipped in in his entirety, eliciting a deep groan from his throat. He’d swear later it was an accident, that he’d mean to just force his knot in faster so you wouldn't hurt so much, but he miscalculated how slippery you were. And Gods, your cunt was so snug around his cock, he could hardly breathe.

You could hardly breathe. So full. So hot. A fever spreading from your belly out to your fingertips - but not unpleasant. It felt good. The pain and burn faded instantly when you buried your face in Giyuu’s neck, breathing in the musky smell of his sweat. It made your mouth water and you couldn’t resist placing an open mouthed kiss on his pulse point, your tongue slipping out to taste him.

His breath hitched, his hips bucked, and you threw your head back with a low moan when he hit the sweet spot inside of you with his cock.

“Fuck- sorry, lovie,” he apologized in a strained voice, trying to stay still. “Are you o-okay?”

You only nodded shakily. “Please, mo-move.” You forced your hands to stop gripping his hair so much, keeping only one hand there while another cupped his cheek.

Your eyes locked with his as he started to rock into you gently.

Giyuu’s face was flushed, sweat beading at his temples, lips parted to pant, eyes glazed over with an unnatural brightness. You probably looked no better, a mess underneath your lover.

He kept panting and moaning softly, and this was the most expressive you'd ever seen or heard your boyfriend be. The vulnerability he showed you made you feel as if you would crack open - your heart so full it could not be contained-

“I love you.”

The words slipped past your lips before you could stop yourself. His eyes seemed to glow with happiness, and he sped up his thrusts. Your hands fell from him to grip onto his forearms.

“I love you, I love you-Iloveyou-” Each time he bottomed out, you repeated your feelings, and each time, he went faster until nothing other than moans and whines could escape you.

Why did this feel more intense than anything you’d ever felt before? Why did it feel like you’d spiral any second? Why did it feel like you couldn’t get enough, that you wanted more of him, have him deeper, make him carve you out from the inside until no one else could fit but him?

It was a heady mix of greed and lust and gluttony for Giyuu, the not-human, the wolf.

“Pl-ease-! Ah!”

You could hardly believe the sounds leaving your throat, high pitched whines and animalistic keening, which only seemed to spur Giyuu on to be rougher with you. He kept eye contact with you still, his hands gripping the fabric of your pillow above your shoulders tightly, his wrists leaning against you to keep you from sliding away from his thrusts.

“Ghi-yuu-ngh-”

His lips slipped open even more, in awe of how beautifully he disintegrated your composure; dew beaded at your lash line, your eyebrows furrowed, eyes half-lidded as you babbled his name, begged and told him how you loved him.

And oh how he loved you too.

He was going to keep you as his forever. Your cunt was too good for him, you were too good for him. Your scent called to him. He needed you.

More, more, more.

Not enough.

Giyuu fucked you like the beast he was, chasing his pleasure and getting drunk off of yours. This was the first heat he’d been even tempted to sink into the core of his partner and Gods, it felt so good. He’d never be able to not fuck you during his heat.

Thankfully, his heats happened only once or twice a year…

He pulled back slightly, slowing the fucking temporarily so he could put both of your legs over his shoulders before he picked up his earlier pace again. His hands gripped your hips tightly, his sharp nails - claws - digging into your skin. You could no longer keep your eyes locked into his, turning your head away and clenching your eyes shut, tears of pleasure falling, when he slightly changed the angle and rubbed along your sweet spot repeatedly. You let out a hoarse whimper.

“Lo-lovie, if you get- fuck- if you get any tighter - hah - I won’t be able to pull out-” he choked out, yet he did not let up. Deep down, he knew he would not be able to hold himself back. He needed to give you all he had, he needed to fill you with his love.

You clawed at the mattress, trying to find purchase, not knowing if you wanted to escape from the ecstasy or if you wanted more. Something threatened to snap in your gut, Giyuu didn’t seem to care as he pounded into you. “Plea-se-!”

Your voice was music to his ears; if he could, he would hone his wolf ears onto you for eternity. “What is it, l-lovie?”

“I- I c-can’t- plea-se- please!” you begged, not knowing what for - but you wanted it, you wanted something.

Your wolf knew though. “I’ve got y-you… you can l-let go, lovie-” One of his hands left your hips to push on your belly, making you infinitely tighter. A mistake, or perfection?

The bubble burst in the next slam of his hips against your ass. You keened, arching your back, more tears escaping your eyes. You were afloat, mind unable to handle any other stimuli than what erupted from your core; your ears rang, stars burst behind your eyelids, your mouth hung open.

A strange vibration reverberated through your body, then sharp heat inside of you, and a slight burn from being stretched. Your brain registered that that couldn’t be right, but you could not focus on anything at all.

Giyuu was in heaven, his knot locked inside of you, his seed filling you up, and you lost in pleasure. There was no better place to be than right where he was - inside you, around you, with you. You, you, you, only you. Your scent enveloped him in a heady atmosphere and his teeth ached with need to sink into your neck, your shoulder. He wanted to truly make you his own.

But he wouldn’t. He couldn't, not without your explicit consent.

He already felt like he'd preyed on you as is, not pulling out, using you like this… he needed to make it up to you somehow.

He needed to show you he could be your forever partner, he needed to show you he could be your future.

He lowered your legs from his shoulders to cradle his waist instead, half-laying on you, soaking up your presence in the post-orgasmic bliss. It distantly occurred to him that his rut had not yet passed, the feverish heat still burning in his gut. He didn't even know how long he'd need to wait for his knot to deflate… before he needed to fuck you again, and again, and again.

"Are you okay?" Giyuu asked at last when the both of you caught your breaths.

You hummed in affirmation, sore all over, throat hoarse as if you'd been at a concert all night. Your arms loosely embraced him as you cooled down a little. "So… not human, huh?"

He flinched. "I have some explaining to do."

dividers made by the amazing @benkeibear

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