#especially with the sounds of breaking glass in the last part

[missroki]

SNEAKY AS A SPIDER┊gojo satoru is one of your closest and oldest friends, but recently he’s been acting strange. he’s unreliable, flaky. will say one thing and do another. after your science internship starts, you decide it's time to call him out on his behavior. it’s just your luck that it turns out he’s the most wanted vigilante in the city.

content: friends to lovers, mutual pining, female!reader x spider-man!gojo, public sex, reader is nicknamed bee, holding you with one arm, fingering, creampie, reader wears glasses, reader called pretty and baby, depictions of violence and injury, accidental manhandling, oral sex (female and male receiving), unprotected, he breaks the headboard. all lowercase. word count: 10k

satoru has been acting… weird, lately. and it’s not his usual weird; the way he always wears tinted glasses regardless of setting, his intense obsession with anything sweet, the way he talks as if he’s constantly on camera. no, in the three years you’ve been friends, satoru has always been that way.

he’s a little different from the rest of the friend group, the words you’d typically use to describe him were annoying, loud, and maybe even quirky if you wanted to really piss him off. thing is, flaky was never a part of that list until recently and it felt as if gojo satoru was rarely ever around anymore.

ever since your college internship started, you’ve seen your friend less and less. this was unusual especially because you were normally attached at the hip — the “hip” being suguru as you two argued over the last slice of pizza. if you were to ask anyone else in the friend group, there was definitely a ‘will they won’t they’ situation going on, but regardless of your feelings towards each other he was always there. a constant.

nowadays he cancels plans at a moment's notice, one time leaving before you’d even grabbed a table with your friends. 

you started paying more attention after that.

as you caught on to his patterns, it was hard for you not to notice that he conveniently disappeared as soon as things started going wrong in the city. at first you thought he was just trying to avoid danger, leaving at the first sound of more than one police siren in quick succession. it wouldn’t surprise you if the loud mouth was all talk.

you’ll never forget the day when the two of you almost got crushed during a villain’s concrete throwing rampage — only to be suddenly saved by the infamous red and blue vigilante that swings through the sky.

spider-man, they’re calling him. a masked hero running through the streets and taking down anyone that dared to live a life of crime. BOOM! POW! CRASH! WHAM! are the only sounds you hear when that guy’s around. that fateful day was the first time you ever made direct contact with him, and when you heard him speak — you knew.

you’ve heard satoru’s shitty attempts at prank calls enough to know that badly deepened voice anywhere.

so here you stand, on a rooftop in manhattan, watching as he clumsily tries to change into his civilian clothing. he hasn’t noticed you quite yet, tripping over his sweats as he tries to shimmy them on while hopping on one leg. he falls unceremoniously on the ground, rubbing his left ass cheek as it meets the concrete.

“need some help?” you ask, watching as his head whips in your direction. his body catches up before he does, limbs hurriedly trying to cover himself. it’s no use, you’ve seen the skin-like suit already and how it hugs him in all the right places. despite this, he still grabs his backpack (the dijimon one that he swears is not for children) and tries to cover the large emblem on his chest anyway.

“h–hey there, bee,” he stutters out, “fancy seeing you here.” he shifts so that his elbow is resting against the ground and holding his chin, on his side with the other hand on his hip.

“wow,” you muse, “you’re definitely pulling off the casual look.”

“i try. it’s the only way we can get through this rat race called life. it’s hard out here for us normal everyday college students.”

you raise an eyebrow. “normal and everyday, huh?”

“yep! normal, plain, basic... all the other adjectives…” he trails off and you see his eyes flicker to the door behind you. you can tell that he’s worried, wondering if anyone else would be making their way up here soon.

you know they aren’t. your lab team believed the lie that you came to take some samples of the greenhouse for your thesis. everyone knew not to bother you when you got in the zone. you’d run around with a million different tasks, swiftly collecting data like a worker bee collects pollen — your namesake.

“hm. and what other adjectives could we use?” you inquire, blood pressure rising. “oh, I know. sneaky, devious, cowardly—!”

“would you believe that i’m just heavily into cosplay?”

“gojo satoru!” you hiss, your tone immediately making him stand up to his feet, palms raised in your direction. his body is fully covered by his suit, the only thing missing the mask. even now it’s hard for you to imagine him under the two white teardrops that peered down at you that day, swiftly bringing you to safety. “explain yourself.”

he groans as if the confession will actually kill him, reaching a gloved hand back to scratch at his undercut. his hair is a mess, sticking in all directions. you begrudgingly find it cute. “if i do, do you promise not to freak out?”

you briskly walk up to him, black heels clacking as your lab coat sways behind you. “i’m already freaked out, satoru. who wouldn’t be after finding out their friend is spi—“ 

“shhh!l” he reprimands, hands flying around in the air in front of you. “what if someone hears you?” he quickly looks left and then right, peering around the rooftop as if the mystery person would materialize out of thin air.

“hears me?” you scoff, lowering your glasses to apply pressure to your nose bridge. “that’s the least of our problems. you’re not the only person at risk here. you’re a criminal, a vigilante and i am now officially a guilty party.”

satoru watches as you lean against one of the wooden analysis tables, careful not to touch the equipment with your hands or sleeves.

“i didn’t exactly ask you to be,” he grumbles, following suit and resting against the dark wood. “listen, i wanted to tell you. both of you. but suguru is so morally righteous that i couldn’t trust him to not tell my family. i didn’t want to drag you in and have you constantly worrying about me. i’m sorry, really, but i don’t regret doing it. i just regret you finding out this way.”

you snort, glancing over at him. you notice now that he has gotten bigger over the past few months; large biceps and shoulders broader than they’ve ever been. “‘toru, i’ve known for three months now.”

his eyes widen, bright blue and vivid underneath the moonlight. you should be heading home now, but seeing him swing through the sky and land on your building, a detour was added. it was the only way you could get him alone. “what do you mean you’ve known? since when?”

“christmas eve,” you answer sheepishly, “you uh, you saved me from that guy with the horn? when we were shopping?”

“rhino.”

“is that his name?”

he shrugs. “it’s what i call him.”

you have to resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“alright then, sure, rhino. the guy damn near crushed us.”

satoru bumps your hip with his, a sly smile on his face. “i wouldn’t have let him. especially not if i knew you’d hug me so tightly after.” of course this is when he tries to flirt with you.

“we were flying through the air and i thought my friend,” you poke his chest and try your best to ignore the hard ridges, “was still under the rubble.”

“well, good thing i wasn’t!” he exclaims, “i was busy saving your life and being a hero.”

“a vigilante.”

“a hero. and a good one, too.” a pouty look passes over his eyes, his face resembling that of a kicked puppy. “i knew you’d react this way.”

in the years you’ve known him, satoru has always been a bit over dramatic, but you can tell that you may have actually hurt him a bit with your words. you quickly backtrack. “alright,” you sigh, “maybe you are a hero but… that also makes you a target, satoru. i’m more worried than i’m angry. what if something happens? fuck, like that week that you weren’t in class? you got hurt didn’t you—“

“come on, bee.” he interrupts, moving to stand in front of you. when did he get taller? “i need you to trust me. just this once.”

his hands drift to your shoulders, gripping your lab coat and pulling you close so that you’re forced to place your hands on his chest to create distance. he’s warm underneath your fingertips. you give in and loosely wrap your arms around his waist.

“okay,” you murmur, “but you have to come up with better excuses, satoru. shoko thinks you’re on drugs, suguru thinks you’re depressed, and nanami… well, actually he’s been fine.”

“ouch,” he whispers with a teasing lift in his voice, “that hurts.”

“your ass or what i said?”

“both. definitely both.”

the two of you giggle, your hands migrating to his hips as you pull away to look up at him. his arms are around you now and you can feel each muscle flex as he caresses your back. it feels intimate, familiar. it’s not the first time you’ve hugged but warmth rises up your neck. the night air nips at the skin beneath your glasses.

“you know, i missed this.” you sigh, “this is probably the longest conversation we’ve had in months since you’re always gone now.” the words are sitting in waiting on your tongue. “i really missed you, satoru.”

you like to think he knew this, even before you told him.

“shocker.” he says this teasingly, but quickly shifts back to being serious, a small smile on his face. “i missed you too, bee.”

you break eye contact so that your gaze is in line with his chest, puffing out a gust of air as your eyes zero in on the spider emblem. “i never got the chance to say thank you. for that day.”

“don’t,” he responds, “it’ll inflate my ego and then i’ll hold it over your head forever.”

“oh, yeah? well, at least you’re honest.”

“painfully so. that being said, i do still require a small payment for my services. it’s only fair.”

you raise an eyebrow, but nod, your left hand coming up to pull lint from the textured fabric of his spider suit. “uh oh, what?”

his gaze flickers from your eyes to your mouth. “do you think,” the tip of his tongue glides across his lips, the pink muscle leaving as quickly as it came. “i could kiss you?”

for a moment, you simply stare him, drinking in the facial features that are situated directly in front of you. satoru has always been handsome, you knew that when you met him. only recently had your feelings developed into something… more and you both were seemingly content with letting things stay the same. 

as far as you could tell, gojo satoru wasn’t interested in romance. you’d never brought it up but there was only so many flirty jokes that you could take. it makes things worse that he’d been gone for so long. if you thought that you’d grown immune to the stupidly charming man, you were wrong. even though he’s a mess, freshly out of a fight according to the small cut on his eyebrow, he retains that alluring, almost unreal beauty that comes with someone like him.

warmth flushes your cheeks as you are suddenly more aware of your close proximity than ever. your eyes widen, a nervous giggle leaving your lips. “you’re not being fair.”

“i’m being serious.” he replies, though his tone tells you he is anything but. he lifts a hand to tuck a curl of your hair behind your ear. “i heard you talking to shoko. you said that spider-man had… what was it again? the tightest ass you’d ever seen— ouch!”

you punch his shoulder hard but he barely moves. your fingers throb and you ignore the pain as you quickly pull away. “that was a private conversation!”

“your voice carries and i just happened to be around! also, are you sure you aren’t secretly a superhero? i’m probably bruising as we speak.”

you roll your eyes. “alright, i’m leaving.”

you turn to make your way to the exit door, but you’re swiftly pulled back by your wrist. before you can even blink, the white-haired menace lifts you up bridal style in his arms. you immediately start pounding at his chest. “satoru put me down—!”

“come on, kiss me! you know you want to.” he smirks at you, cocky and knowing. he shifts you so that your legs wrap around his waist. not expecting the sudden movement, your arms automatically wrap around his neck to keep you grounded. when did he get so strong?

“you’re so fucking annoying.”

“oh, i get it now,” he teases as he leans in close, voice soft as his lips graze the shell of your ear. “you want me to put the mask back on?”

this stuns you, and by the way you tense up you’re sure he knows that you’ve probably fantasized about something similar in the past. “you’re insufferable.”

“keep going, this is doing it for me.”

“i’m actually going to kill you.”

“not before i get my kiss, bee! come on, it’ll be fun.”

you narrow your eyes at him. ‘fun’ for satoru could mean many things, typically on the more dangerous side. if the small scar on your thigh was anything to go by, you might need a helmet and shin guards. “be serious.”

“do you want to kiss me?” he asks suddenly, bending down to press his forehead to yours. you feel your gaze soften at the same time his does. fuck, he definitely wasn’t being fair now.

“what kind of question is that?” you breathe out.

“a serious one.” his eyebrows furrow slightly, eyes peering into yours. “answer it.”

“…of course i want to kiss you. you already know what this is.” you grumble, giving in.

“then come here. i only bite on the second date.”

“do not use tongue.”

“sure, pretty.” pretty.

you shift in his hold, staring into the familiar blue eyes in front of you. with a sigh, you cautiously begin to lean in. before your lips can touch, something occurs to you and you abruptly pull back. satoru does a terrible job of hiding his disappointment.

“wait, you can pick me up?”

at first he gives you a confused look. blinks once, then twice as his brain catches up to your statement. he looks down at your current position, him holding you as if you were a paper weight.

“of course i can pick you up. i can pick up a car.”

you distantly wonder whether he can hear the erratic pounding of your pulse at the information. his palms ever so lightly curve over your ass before settling on the undersides of your thighs, drawing you close enough that you feel the hard ridges of his muscles again. you want to touch him, drag your hands over the sharp divets in his body. maybe it’s the sleep deprivation or just your own desire shining through, but you decide that maybe just this once you’ll tease him back. "a car, huh? i knew i was crushing on spider-man for a reason."

despite your attempts to keep your voice steady, there’s still a slight nervousness to it, he smirks. "i am a superhero after all, i hear girls typically like that sort of thing.”

"that depends on if you’re done teasing me." you murmur. you are certain that the shiver beneath you isn’t from the chill night air.

“i can be,” he responds, hooking one arm under your ass and moving the other to hold your chin. his nose brushes against yours. “but you have to stop stalling.”

you’re not sure if he’s talking about just the kiss, or the obvious tension between the two of you. either way, you give him an imperceptible nod and the smallest ‘okay’. it is all the reassurance he needs to let the line that has buzzed between you for so long — snap.

you know you’ve reached the point of no return when his lips touch yours. a warmth spreads through your body, threatening to set you aflame if you didn’t hold satoru tighter against you. the hand that once held your chin presses against your back. you are impossibly close but it still doesn’t feel like enough.

the anticipation of finally kissing him has reached its boiling point, bubbling up inside of you and spilling over the edges of your heart. unable to contain it, you whine against him, feeling his thumb rub circles into your back.

satoru’s mouth is hot against yours as you tease the seam of his lips with your tongue. you can feel him smirk as he easily lets you in. the taste of a fruity energy drink is on the tip of his tongue as you intertwine, moving your fingers to trail up into his hair. 

it’s only when you feel a familiar ache between your thighs that you pull away, the two of you huffing against each other's mouths.

“what’s wrong?” he pants, “did i do something?”

you shake your head, mind hazy as you process your thoughts. “n-no you’re fine. very fine, actually, i just… i think i’m getting too lost in you. we should stop.”

he hums. “you wanna stop?” satoru is already leaning in to capture your lips again.

you voice is barely above a whisper. “uh huh,” as you eagerly close the distance.

this feeling is new, nothing you’ve ever experienced from anyone until now and especially not from satoru. his normally teasing mouth is anything but as he kisses you, explores you in the form of languid kisses. hands that you now know can bring someone to their knees, twitch as they caress your thigh and spine, grip the nape of your neck.

it is entirely meant to be innocent, you had no intentions of crossing that line. but then you shift slightly and feel the swell of his cock against you. a whimper stumbles from your lips.

now it is his turn to pull away, forehead resting against yours. “okay, fuck i see what you mean now,” he breathes out, “we should actually stop now.”

you nod your head ever so slightly, lips just barely an inch away from his. “y-yeah, we really should.”

when you say this, you swear that you mean it. of course with the way satoru is looking at you, eyes narrowed and lidded, it’s hard to be stern. his cheeks are rosy, lips bruised pink, hair a start contrast against the deep blue of the sky. you don’t want to stop, you know he doesn’t either.

“how long do we have until someone comes looking for you?”

you start pressing warm, opened mouthed kisses to the exposed skin of his jaw, his hand grips down tighter on your thigh. your words are slightly muffled against his skin. “now? like twenty minutes.”

you barely register it when you feel yourself being placed on one of the work tables, dress hurriedly pushed up around your waist. your heels clatter to the ground but you don’t have time to care when his fingers begin to tease and rub against your clothed slit. “s–satoru! wait–!”

“we’ve waited long enough, don’t you think?” you lean into his shoulder and whimper as his long fingers rub at you through the soaked fabric of your panties. “just be good for me, yeah? let me make up for not being around like i should’ve been.”

there’s a brief pause where his glove is discarded to the ground. you feel a now bare hand pull your panties to the side, the cold night air making you shiver despite the warm body in front of you. there’s the distinct sound of your slick coating his fingers as they spread you open, a moan finding its way out as you grind against him.

his hand shifts so that his thumb teases your clit, fingers prodding at your entrance. “satoru,” you whimper, “please.”

you feel him smirk as he presses kisses against your flushed cheeks and forehead. “yeah, baby?” he murmurs, “you want me to fuck you with my fingers? get you nice and ready for me?”

you gasp as two of them enter you, dragging against your walls as you clench down. “fuck, you’re tight,” he comments, a flash of panic on his face that you don’t see with your face still in his shoulder. “this isn’t your first, is it?“

you shake your head, calming his trepid heart. “just been a while–!“ you choke out, his fingers grazing your g-spot. 

“then i better make it memorable, yeah?”

your equilibrium is thrown off balance and you can only gasp as you suddenly find yourself in the air. satoru’s fingers pound into your cunt as you drip down the grooves of his palm. while one hand is dragging your moans out of you, the other holds you as if you weigh nothing, strong and stable as it curves around your ass.

“oh, fuck!” you moan, gripping at his shoulders as tears pool in your eyes. his fingers are relentless and he shows no sign of tiring as he keeps you firmly in place. even if you wanted to get away you couldn’t, like a caged animal, or more fittingly an insect trapped in his web.

your glasses start to tilt off your face and instead of having to push them up again, you move to take them off. you yelp when a bite is placed on your neck, cunt clenching involuntarily as satoru pulls back with a lustful gaze. “keep them on,” he groans, “you look so sexy with them on, bee.”

you lean your forehead against his, your moans and whimpers becoming intertwined with his as you kiss him again. this kiss is different from the others you’ve shared, all tongue and lips as loud smacks are heard whenever you pull apart.

“need you so badly,” you admit, “wanna feel you inside me, filling me up.”

your friend (if you could even still call him that) is quick to grant your wish, easing his fingers out of your cunt and placing a quick kiss on your lips. “one sec, gotta get this off..”

he places you again on the table, quickly tugging down his suit so that his torso is exposed. you see the swell of his cock where the suit now hangs, dripping precum from the pink tip against the bottom of his stomach. fuck, was he not wearing underwear?

you reach out to tease the head, reveling in the way satoru bucks forward into your palm. “how do you want me?” he asks, his heavy breaths obvious against his sweat slicked chest.

you smirk, lifting your arms in his direction. “i want you to bounce me on you. you’re strong, right? you can do all the work?”

satoru chuckles but it’s not in his usual playful tone, a hand grips your throat but doesnt add pressure, holding you in place. “we don’t have a lot of time, i can’t promise I’ll be gentle with you.”

“i don’t want you to be,” you whisper, wetting your lips with your tongue.

he quickly pulls your panties off your legs, lifting you with one arm so that you’re positioned perfectly. with his free hand, satoru guides himself into your wet cunt, growling as you take him to the hilt. he hasn’t even moved you yet and your juices are already dripping down to coat his balls.

“hold on tight, pretty girl. you can even bite me if you like, I’ll barely feel it.”

you’re trembling, holding onto his shoulders as you adjust to his size. when you nod your head against his neck, satoru lifts you up before slamming you back down on his cock.

wet slaps of skin echo in the quiet night. you’re too high up for the bustling city to make much noise, your moans and whines lost as you dig your nails into his back.

satoru isn’t faring well either, his free hand groping your ass and copping a feel of your tits. “when we’re not on this fucking roof i’m gonna worship this pretty body, but you don’t want that right now do you? no, you like that i can fuck you with one arm; treat you like my own personal fuck doll.”

you moan at his words, impossibly wet as he tweaks your nipples and grinds the fat of your ass. you feel consumed by him, like there isn’t a part of your body that he hasn’t touched. 

“did you – ah.” satoru hisses, biting down on his own lip. “did you hope it was me?”

“w-what?” you whimper, trying your best to focus despite the hand that you feel now playing with your clit. “i-i didn’t know until after. heard your vo – shit – your voice!”

he moves your body quicker now, grunting each time he pistons his cock into your tight heat. “did it turn you on? knowing that i kept you safe, that i protected you?”

you feel a familiar pressure in your stomach. “s–stop talking,” you whimper, “or i’ll—“

“cum? i want you to, honey bee. want you to milk me for all i’m worth.” he kisses against your neck, up the skin to bite down and suck on your earlobe. “cum for your hero. show him how thankful you are.”

with eyes damp and foggy, you hold him tight. “s–satoru, c–cumming—!” and feel your pussy flood with his cum. tears track down your cheeks at your orgasm but satoru’s movements don’t stop, riding out his orgasm as you slump into his chest. “there you go, honey bee, ride it out. that’s it.”

you feel like you’re floating, weightless against him. satoru holds you in both of his arms now, fixing your glasses before gently petting your hair. “are you okay?” he asks, murmuring into the crown of your head.

you nod, sighing against his chest. “more than okay.”

he’s about to respond when the loud echo of police sirens go off in the distance. you perk up, looking at him in alarm. you know from the look in his eyes that he—

“i have to go.” he says, placing you down on the table and hurriedly handing you your panties. he’s tugging his suit back on, glove and mask following soon after.

“seriously, satoru?” you ask, squirming at the feeling of his cum inside you. he gently puts your heels back on your feet.

“i know, i know, i’m sorry. but i’ll see you later, okay? we can… talk. leave your window open.” he’s about to leave, shoot off into the night, but you grab his arm and stop him in his tracks.

“satoru, be safe.”

he tugs his mask up to reveal a small smirk, leaning to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “of course, always.”

with those parting words, he swings off into the night. you can only hope that he’s able to keep his promise.

on the nights when you dream of him, you wake up in fear.

sweats drips from the hot, temperamental skin of your forehead, tiny baby hairs curl at the moisture against your nape. you are falling, gasping as you sit up abruptly from your chilled bedsheets. shadows seemingly shift in all corners of your bedroom and the edges of your mind. you know now that the heavy pounding you hear is not the rush of thick blood pouring from a gushing wound, but instead a hand against the wooden frame of your bedroom door.

“bee!” your grandfather yells from behind your door, “you gotta see what’s on the tv, darlin’!” his accent is heavy, years of living in the city warping his speech.

you clear your throat and reach for the plush cover on your bed. when you find only a thin sheet, you realize that you must have kicked it off in the night. you hear the pounding again and imagine a weathered, sun spotted fist against strong pine.

“c–coming,” you stutter out, “just give me a sec!”

from behind the door comes your grandfather’s signature grunt of acceptance. you notice the way his knees click as he makes his way back to the front room, showing his old age.

you stumble out of bed, legs loose as you tug your pajama shorts lower on your thighs. you didn’t want to have to hear a mouthful from your grandmother tonight about showing too much skin.

when you lift your head again, you realize that the fear that manifested before still lingers, your vision is blurry as you try to make sense of your room that’s only illuminated by pale moonlight and a flickering neon sign. 

your science fair trophies are where they have always been, your poloroids are still attached to the wall with the same tacky blue paste. your basket of unfolded laundry is still there and your high school diploma sits mounted right above it. nothing is out of the ordinary, but in its own way, normalcy is nothing short of terrifying.

you quickly snatch your glasses from the bedside table and put them on, thankfully realizing that the outline of a jacket was not the sleep paralysis demon you originally assumed it was.

the apartment you live in has always been small, so it doesn’t take you much effort to make it to the front room. hurried footsteps follow the sound of crashing and gunshots from your grandparents old box set tv. as you round the corner you see your grandpa leaning back in his favorite chair and your grandma holding what seems to be an abandoned crotchet project.

your blood runs cold as you watch the scene unfolding before you. it’s the channel five news, live and showing a high speed chase down a busy new york street. a masked set of criminals are shooting from the back of an unmarked van, lifting their heavy weapons up high in hopes of hitting what appears to be a moving object (with the way they whip their guns around in the air).

the figure is distinctly male, webs shooting from his wrist as he easily flies through the cityscape. the helicopter footage only shows so much, but it’s enough for you to see as the bullets narrowly miss his head and shoulders, red and blue blurs past your screen just slow enough to catch the spider emblem on his chest. whoever these criminals were, they had alarmingly good aim.

“see that, bee,” your grandpa mutters, “this damn spider-guy has been wreaking havoc all over the city! i mean look at the state of that street!”

“he’s lucky he hasn’t lost a limb with the way he’s throwing himself around,” your grandma adds, “do you see the way they’re shooting at him? he could be killed!”

you walk closer to the screen, kneeling down on your knees as your gaze follows your boyfriend. it had been six months since satoru confessed to you on the rooftop of your shared internship building. it was… nice, knowing that he trusted you enough to share his secret (even if you had to weasel it out of him). and since then, things have been a lot smoother between you two.

he was still busy, but you knew why now, making swift excuses for him on your nights out with friends. suguru teased you to no end, shoko finally let up on the drug addict allegations, and nanami was glad that he didn’t have to deal with the obvious tension between you two anymore. things were looking up, genuinely improving.

when he had the time, satoru would take you to his favorite parts of the city. the first time he actually had you in the air, you refused to even look at him until you landed on solid ground. he’d kiss your forehead and yell out stupid quips to you as you glided through the night, the familiar new york sounds making it hard to hear. “you aren’t scared, are you?” he’d tease. “those wings not working, honey bee?”

despite his incessant teasing, you trusted him to never let you fall. but recently your safety wasn’t what was on your mind. seeing him now, just barely avoiding death, it unnerves you.

the nightmares were gradual, kept at bay when satoru sneakily ended up in your bed at night. but when he wasn’t there (which was more often these days) you struggled to have a peaceful night's rest. 

it was always the same visceral scene that your mind would conjure up:

you would be at home, like you are now, watching as spider-man battled the latest villain of the week. your body would go numb and your mouth would be dry as sandpaper. there would always be a buzzing in your ears, gentle when paired with the shrill sound of satoru’s screams; of him begging for help that would never come.

the air would smell of congealed blood and bile, you’d suddenly be out of your living room and crouched right next to him in crumbled concrete. he’d cry for you, plead for you to save him, but you could never stop the bleeding.

you’d wake and think you could still feel his nails digging into your forearms; the urge to scrub your hands raw is all consuming as they pulse with unseen blood.

you never wanted to talk to him about it, hovering over your cellphone with each strangled breath. fear was a powerful thing and you were afraid that if you spoke about what you saw, it would turn out to be true.

“satoru,” you breathe, watching as he stops the van with the force of his body and webs, holding the vehicle in place before it can ram into a sea of people in times square.

“your white-haired friend? don’t tell me he went out tonight,” your grandpa asks with worry, eyebrows furrowing as he goes to sit next to you on the ground.

your grandma follows suit, placing a gentle hand on your head and a kiss to your temple. they smell of home, comfort that you often seeked out since the night your parents died.

“i’m sure he’s fine, sweetie. he’s a smart boy, sharp as a tack! he can handle himself.”

she had no idea how right she was.

you imagine a powerful, strong body tangled in limited edition spider-man bedsheets. (satoru bought you a set despite them being too small for your bed.) you imagine soft breaths in your ear and the tickle of long pale fingers against your chest. you think of early mornings with blurry blue eyes and hurriedly grabbed coffee as you enter the internship building. they entangle you, situate themselves firmly in your chest so that even when he’s gone you will always have him near.

when you think of him this way, your fear suffocates you. you have to force your tears to stay put as you lean into the comforting shoulders of your grandparents, lean into the security they provide. “yeah,” you whisper, “i know he can.”

your grandmother was right, satoru could indeed handle himself. the chase ended at around two am and your grandparents retreated to their bedroom as things settled down in the city. the criminals were apprehended and spider-man was gone as quickly as he came.

you stare at the news reporter as they interview civilians on the scene. the general consensus this time was that he was a hero. he saved their lives and for that they were grateful. grateful enough to stand out in the rain just to sing his praises. you wonder if they would feel the same loss as you, if the mere thought of his death kept them up at night.

it’s a split second decision when you text him, when you realize that the only way to ease the ache in your chest was to feel him. see him. alive and breathing.

you: come over.

satoru: oh? right now? you miss me that much? ;)

you: satoru, please.

satoru: that bad? alright. no need to beg, beautiful. i’m on my way.

there’s a gentle knock on your bedroom window. it’s three am according to your digital pochacco alarm clock, but your body is as awake as it’s ever been.

you quickly shift off your bed to flip the latch, yanking the window up to reveal a familiar smirk patiently waiting for you on your fire escape. air fills your lungs as if you’d been drowning for weeks.

“hey there, pretty,” satoru murmurs, eagerly pressing a tender kiss to your lips. his mouth is cold and raindrops drip onto your windowsill, but you feel warm in this space.

you move back to make room for him to hop inside, noticing that there is no hint of red or blue under the collar of his black sweatshirt and sweatpants.

“hey there, handsome. was starting to think you weren’t gonna make it.”

satoru arrived later than expected. his hair is slightly damp from the rainwater which tells you that it was uncovered on his journey here. he must have changed clothes and opted to take the subway, laying low so that no one could find their way here by following him.

“and miss you in these extremely cute pjs?” his hands curve around your waist, travel down to the slope of your ass with a gentle squeeze. “i couldn’t possibly miss out on that…”

his voice trails off as you lock eyes, a curious look appearing on his face. at first, you think he’s confused but the look leaves as soon as it came. he pulls you in close and your hands press into his chest.

“does it matter? you’ll tear them off of me anyway.” you trail your hands downwards to grip his hips, slowly easing down to the ground on your knees. you feel the way your boyfriend tenses up from the attention.

“right, but typically that happens a little later, yeah? someone’s eager tonight.” he comments. you can hear the slight nervousness in his voice, but you don’t comment on it as you palm the slowly growing erection between his thighs.

“can a girl not miss her boyfriend?” you ask, freeing his impressive length as you situate his sweatpants and underwear under his balls. satoru hisses at the contact, a hand gently caressing your head.

“no, baby that’s not it i just— oh fuck!” you take him deep in your mouth without warning, your hand moving to grip the rest of his cock that you can’t fit. “i’m just w-worried about you. not that i don’t want this but y-you’re not usually this riled up— holy shit.”

your tongue drags against the underside of him, eyes glancing up to watch the way satoru tilts his head back in ecstasy. his hand grips your hair as you see a flash of light from the neon sign outside. it swallows him in a sea of red, and you swear that the gasp he lets out is suspiciously close to a final breath. blood. bright and thick blood floods your vision. it’s on his clothes, his skin, a gaping wound in his torso that just barely holds him together—

you jolt back, your head knocking against your bed as you try to create distance, eyes wide and blinking. satoru is startled for a moment before he sees the panic on your face. he quickly ducks down, hands hovering over your now shaking form. one glance down at his state of undress and he’s tucking himself away with a slight blush on his cheeks.

“hey, hey,” he coos, “what’s wrong? did i hurt you? how do i make it better? do you want to stop? we can stop–”

you can’t help the sob that leaves your throat, despite your best efforts. you cover your mouth with both hands as to not alert your grandparents. the last thing you needed was for them to barge in here and see your best friend sketchily hovering over you.

although he seems alarmed, satoru doesn’t hesitate to wrap you in his arms. he easily pulls you into his lap as you bury your face into his shoulder. weeks of anxiety and fear spill out of you at once, harsh and ugly cries leaving your lips. god, you felt ridiculous.

“you aren’t ridiculous,” he chastises. you realize you must have said that out loud. “we’ve known each other for years and the closest i’ve seen you get to crying is when you ate that ghost pepper with shoko.” you giggle at the memory, burying even further into his warm embrace.

satoru smells like the city, respectively; of rainwater and smog… but there’s a hint of familiarity there. underneath the haze is his soft laundry detergent and cologne. he is the pillar that grounds you and you cling to him like a child. “i’m sorry,” you whimper, feeling his palm caress your clothed back.

“don’t be. i don’t want you to ever feel like you have to do anything you don’t want–“

“that’s not why i’m upset.” you interject, not enjoying the shift in the conversation. the last thing you wanted to do was make him believe sex was the problem. satoru pulls you in closer to his chest, resting his chin on your head. “i’ve been… having nightmares, recently. vivid as hell and i haven’t been sleeping well.”

he doesn’t speak at first, hand still rubbing your back to soothe you. your tears fall silently now, your throat heavy with the weight of your admission.

after a while, he sighs. “you always do this.”

you clear your throat and the weight lifts. “do what, exactly?”

“not tell me how you’re feeling! you’ve been this way for years, sure, but you’re my girlfriend now. the apple to my pie, the straw to my berry–!”

“gojo satoru.”

“i’m being serious. whatever scary thoughts you have, you can keep them from everyone else… but not from me. never from me.”

he pulls away so that your words are clearer; not muffled by the fabric of his clothes. “what’s been going on in the busy little head of yours, bee?”

now it’s your turn to sigh, fist clenching and then unclenching around his sweatshirt. you’re most comfortable in what you know, so you start there. “like i said, i’ve been having nightmares... about you. specifically, you dying in various horrific ways while i watch… unable to do anything.”

you feel satoru stiffen, but he recovers quickly. you decide to continue.

“it’s all science, really. conditioning! you being around relaxes me, but when you aren’t i can’t sleep. i just sit up all night wondering where you are and–“

“and if i’m dead.” his voice is plain when he speaks, but the gravity of the words are even harder to swallow when he says them; his own mortality held in the palm of his hands.

you inhale sharply through your nose, hold it in until your lungs burn, then release it. “yes,” you whisper, “if you’re dead.”

satoru is shockingly quiet, but you know he’s simply thinking. he breathes steadily, as if you had simply told him how your day was. you know your breaths are more erratic, that he is feeling for your heartbeat with every touch against your back.

“damn. i guess it’s a good thing i’m a superhero, then. some random bank robbers aren’t going to kill me.”

you scoff. “but the guns they have might.”

“i told you how my powers work, didn’t i? i can sense them before they can even think to hit me. i can feel everything around me all at once if i concentrate hard enough.“

“but what if they catch you off guard?”

satoru pulls away from you so that your eyes meet, his hand cups your cheek. “they won’t. they can’t.”

“baby—“

“listen to me, bee. i told you on that roof that i’d be safe. yeah, i take a few risks here and there but i’m always… mostly careful.”

you raise a brow.

“look, what i’m trying to say is that you don’t need to stress yourself out worrying about me. i don’t plan on leaving you behind anytime soon. plus, i think we still have a few movie marathons left in us.”

his thumb caresses the skin under your eye, tinted slightly darker from your lack of sleep. “well, maybe one more.”

you giggle, poking a finger into his side. “you’re such a pain in my ass.”

“but i’m yours, yeah?” he presses a kiss to your cheek, nose drifting across your skin. “you’re stuck with me.”

you smile, leaning into him again as his kisses trail even further up your face. your heart pounds in your chest as you hold him close. “yeah, and you’re stuck with me,” you reply, voice low and steady. “which means i can’t watch you die.”

“you won’t have to.” he murmurs against your hairline, his lips gentle against your skin. “i’m the strongest, remember?”

and you do remember, it would be hard not to. satoru has always been strong mentally, but the physical is all you can focus on now. even through the thick material of his sweatshirt, you can tell that he is anything but weak. you miss feeling powerless under him. you enjoy letting everything go when it’s him that makes your mind go blank.

“how could i not?” you respond, pulling away so that your palms travel down the front of his sweatshirt. “…unless, you want me to forget? focus on something else?”

he grins at your obvious teasing but a hand grips your wrist. “are you sure? i wouldn’t want you getting overwhelmed again. i tend to have that effect on pretty girls.”

the way your other hand finds its way to his bare stomach is answer enough, but you still respond. “i’m sure you do, spider-boy… but if you can’t get it up again, i understa–”

you are pinned to your bed before you can fully blink, practically having flown in the air with the speed he’d moved you with. you can’t move, arms firmly pinned to your sides. satoru is looking down at you with an expression you recognize and you feel a throbbing between your legs.

“tell me if you want to stop, but let me just…” he reaches down to dip two fingers into your pajama shorts, letting out a stuttered breath at the wetness that begins to pool between your puffy slit. “there you are, beautiful. gettin’ nice and wet for me already. such a good girl.”

his fingers tease and rub against you, gathering your wetness and dragging it up to your swollen bud, rubbing it back and forth as you whimper and writhe against his strong hold. you can’t help the way you gasp, covering your mouth with your palms to muffle your scandalous sounds.

satoru is quick to take advantage of the way your hands are now preoccupied, using his own free hand to tug your breasts out of your flimsy tank top.

“fuck,” he growls, groping you brazenly and playing with the peaked nipples on your chest. his tongue is hot as he takes one in his mouth, his fingers now fucking into you with each suck of his long tongue.

your legs twitch as he starts to kiss downward, leaving your nipples slick and chilled from the night air. satoru is slow in the way he kisses every expanse of your skin, your pretty stomach and supple thighs, your soft feet and the backs of your knees. he travels down to your pelvis to watch as he thrusts inside your wet heat, slick against his hand and coating his fingers.

“so pretty,” he groans, “how could i ever leave you behind, huh?”

“satoru,” you moan, “please. i need you inside.”

he presses a kiss to your mound. “patience, beautiful. i promise i’ll give it all to you in time… just let me taste this perfect pussy first.”

the movement that follows is a quick whirlwind of fingers tugging off clothing, a determined look in satoru’s eyes as he folds you practically in half on the bed, forcing you into the position as if you were a mere toy, weighing nothing to him.

you nearly choke on the gasp that leaves your mouth as he latches onto your clit, hands firmly on the back of your thighs as he shoves his tongue deep inside your tight hole, drowning his moans in your cunt and lapping up your essence.

“oh my god,” you moan beneath your hand, the other moving to gain purchase on the bedsheets as he practically devours you. satoru is a man on a mission, his fingertips digging into your skin as his tongue penetrates deeper inside you until you’re shaking and writhing in the bed, begging to cum.

“yeah, pretty girl? you want me to make you cum on my tongue? want me to hold you in place so you can’t run away from me?”

you nod frantically, biting down on your lip so that your hand can bury in his hair. when you tug on it, you feel his hands grip even tighter, your voice sharp as you feel the sting of nails in your skin. the pain is welcomed as you cum in a sudden shuddered moan, feeling the coil in your stomach fully unravel as satoru reluctantly pulls away from your pussy.

his mouth is messy, his breathing ragged. you know from the look in his eyes that he is fraying at the seams, trying his best to not lose control.

“come–“ you pause and clear your throat ever so slightly, voice slightly scratchy. “come here.”

it is, once again, alarmingly quick how he slots his throbbing length between your thighs, spreading your ass cheeks so that he can see all of you as he sinks inside with a slow, desperate stroke.

every inch of him feels like relief, your moans tangling into one another’s as he leans down to capture your lips in his. your cunt flexes hard around him, practically begging to be filled.

satoru is quick to grip your headboard, the other arm wrapped your waist to keep you close. he shuts his eyes in hopes to calm himself but you would be an idiot to ignore the sharp crunch of splitting wood above your head and the small bit of dust that floats in the air. there is now a large crack in your old headboard, traveling down the side and disappearing underneath your pillows.

satoru lets out what is a mixture of a groan and laugh. “oh, shit. sorry. guess i still have to get used to the whole super strength thing.”

“we can accept a casualty or two.”

you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him back to you. satoru is unrelenting as he moves in a blur of slamming hips and sweaty chests. you find yourself wanting to feel him closer. your fear that he could simply disappear has been eased but you need more.

you hook your legs around his ass to pull him in deeper, the sudden angle shift causing a choked cry to fall from his mouth. “what are you doing?” he hurries out.

“need to feel you, toru, make me forget. please.”

your pleas egg him on as satoru grits his teeth and meets your hungry gaze, lifting to pin you further into the bed as he thrusts harder and faster. the bed creaks underneath you but you find yourself uncaring, hoping the still turned on tv would drown out the noise. satoru desperately wants to make it better, wants you to feel safe and secure because you’re his. he had to protect himself so that he could protect you.

a shift in the air happens when tears start to trickle down your cheeks. at first, satoru is shocked as he watches the water drip and cover your pretty skin, but he soon realizes that the tears are not your own. his vision blurs as you lift a hand to cup his face. “i love you,” you whisper though your speak is warbled, “stay with me.”

“fuck, bee,” satoru scrambles to find purchase on his emotions but everything comes to the surface. he can’t help the way he blurts out—

“i love you, too. so much. i’m not going anywhere, baby. i promise.”

he leans his forehead against yours as you connect in a sea of ragged, damp moans and whimpers. the soft pattering of rain on your window is gentle when paired with the sharp sounds of you reaching your peak, hands holding on to satoru as if he’d disappear.

your orgasm is harsh and sudden, your limbs clenching as you bury your face into satoru’s strong shoulder. you try your best not to be loud, muffling your sounds as best as you can as your boyfriend’s name bubbles up in your throat. satoru, you whimper, satoru.

“so close,” he grunts, “bee i–i’m fuck—!”

satoru’s babbling is cut short as his own orgasm rips through him like a surge of energy, intense and all consuming as hot streaks of his cum flood your insides in white.

your boyfriend lets out two heavy breaths before he’s rolling you both in the bed, back against the sheets as you rest against his chest.

the movement cause his softening cock to slip out of you, and you whine at the sudden empty feeling.

“holy shit,” you both say in unison, giggles erupting from both of your throats.

“that was… a lot,” you murmur, nuzzling into his chest. “but it was good. really good.”

“of course it was,” he says with a smirk, “you don’t keep me around for just my pretty face.”

you press a kiss to his chest. “no, i guess i don’t.”

satoru briefly wonders how much motivation he has to get up and head back to his place, knowing that in the morning your grandmother would come knocking with an offer of pancakes. still, he wants badly to—

“‘toru.” you murmur sleepily, fatigue finally catching up to you.

you feel a forehead press against yours as satoru responds with your name, your actual name. “it’s me.” he whispers. “i’m here.”

you hope he always will be.

“my grandparents don’t like spider-man all that much.”

he chuckles and twirls some of your hair around his finger. "they still like me though, right?"

a few seconds too long pass and satoru stops his toying with your hair. "…right?"

your snoring is the only reply he gets.

not going to explain anything important in this a/n bc yall never read them anyway, lmao. hope you enjoyed reading! thanks for the support on my new account since my last one got flagged.

MISSROKI. all original work. do not plagiarize, translate, or repost. this includes feeding my work to ai apps and sites.

#‧₊˚ 🖇️ ۫ ⭒ — sorin writes. #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x female reader #gojo x black reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo smut #gojo fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk x female reader #jjk smut #angelshubnetwork

[bellaxgiornata]

If We're Being Honest [1/2]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 6.8k [Part 2]

Summary: Already having an awful week, you're a bit out of it while at Josie's with your friends, too busy sulking and drinking down your feelings to keep up with conversation. The sight of Matt wandering off with a beautiful woman yet again certainly doesn't help. But when you stay behind by yourself to finish your drink and wallow a bit more, you're surprised when Matt reappears and offers to let you stay the night at his place. Eventually, the night takes a turn you weren't anticipating.

Warnings/Tags: Angst with a happy ending, confession of feelings (with a twist), delayed comfort, anxious/depressed inebriated Reader

a/n: This is a two part little fic with angst in this first half and the comfort y'all want in the second half. I was craving angst and a twist on the typical confession of feelings fic, so here y'all go! Feedback is always appreciated!

Matt Murdock One Shot Tag List: @pazii @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @mattkinsella @yeonalie @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @wkndwlff @leikelle @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @marvelcinematiquniverse @carstairswife @stilldreaming666 @kiwwia-wiwwia @willwork4dilfs @will-delete-this-later-probably @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @theetherealbloom @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @ladywholikesreading @sleepysleepymom @tartbeanpuzzles @harleycao @sunflower-tia

Absently spinning your bottle of beer on the table with one hand, your eyes were fixed on the little droplets of condensation along the side of it. Your chin rested in the palm of your other hand as you watched one of the droplets begin to snake its way down the side of the brown glass, moving as if it was in slow motion. Outside of the bar, the downpour of summer rain battered against the window to your left.

Foggy’s hand loudly and abruptly slapping the table broke through your daze, causing you to jump in your seat. Eyes flying over towards him beside you, you watched as he let out a boisterous laugh, throwing his head back over his shoulders. Karen and Matt both quickly followed after, breaking into a fit of laughter along with him. Meanwhile you sat in your seat with absolutely no idea what had them laughing so hard because you hadn't been paying attention to the conversation for the past few minutes. 

You'd been having a rough week, both emotionally and mentally, and were currently trying your hardest not to sit and wallow in self-pity tonight–but you weren't doing a great job of that so far. Not only had you received a wedding invitation to your cousin's wedding the other day, but last night Marci had asked you to be a bridesmaid at her and Foggy’s upcoming wedding. Which of course you'd said yes to, ecstatic for your friends to finally be getting married and having an actual date set for their big day. But all of that had made you increasingly aware of your own single-ness this week in particular, especially after Karen had spent the first part of tonight gushing about the new guy she'd been seeing. 

You were happy for your friends, honestly. They were amazing people who deserved nothing but the best. You absolutely couldn't wait for all of the wedding festivities coming up that you'd be celebrating with everyone, either–for Marci and Fog's wedding and your cousin. You even thought the guy Karen was seeing sounded like an actual great catch for her for once. 

But you just couldn't help but feel like there was something wrong with you tonight. It had been far too long since you'd last had a date, and even longer than that since you'd been in a relationship. It didn't help that you certainly didn’t feel like you fit in with this group of friends you’d somehow found yourself a part of for the past almost year now. 

It had been by sheer accident that you’d met Foggy and Karen one morning all those months ago. And it was only because the three of you had had a coffee mishap at a coffee shop near the office where they worked. It was Foggy who’d chased you out of that shop for the drink you'd accidentally grabbed by mistake. Apparently it had been for his law firm partner Matt, who happened to be very particular about his coffee. They needed to be at the courthouse in time for a court case that morning so he didn't have time to get back in line to reorder the coffee. Having not had a chance to drink from the cup in the time you'd managed to grab it and make your way out the door, you'd readily swapped Matt's drink with your actual coffee that Foggy had grabbed. You’d apologized profusely for the mistake, but you'd formed the opinion that his firm partner sounded like an ass to be that particular about his coffee.

And for the next few mornings before work after that, you kept noticing Karen and Foggy at the same coffee shop. The pair of them were always excited to greet you, jokingly dubbing you the ‘coffee thief’ from that moment forward. It wasn’t long before the morning small talk in the line for coffee eventually led to them inviting you out to this little dive bar at Josie’s where you had finally met him .

Matthew Michael Murdock.

As the laughter subsided at the table, your eyes shifted over to Matt as if they were magnetically drawn to him. There was a broad smile stretched wide across his face, displaying his perfect, white teeth. The adorable, lone dimple in his right cheek was visible tonight just beneath the stubble that was a bit darker and thicker than he usually kept it. His dark hair was partially windswept but now finally dry from the rain that had dampened it earlier. Somehow that had just made his hair look messy in a way that seemed intentional. His tie was partially undone, loose around the collar of his light blue dress shirt; and as usual by the time he’d reached Josie’s, his sleeves had been rolled up exactly two times to reveal those muscular forearms of his covered in that smattering of little dark hairs you’d always longed to touch. 

He looked good– so good. But he always did. 

And of course, you were aware that you weren't the only one who ever noticed that.

The tall brunette you’d caught eyeing Matt all night finally appeared just over his shoulder and you released a sigh, already knowing what was coming next. Matt always attracted attention from beautiful women wherever he went because he was handsome and charismatic and sweet. He was impossible to miss in a room full of people. Which was honestly true of Karen, Marci, and Foggy, too. They were all attractive, successful, and exceptionally well-spoken individuals with big personalities that you couldn’t help but be drawn to.

But not you. You stood out like a painting on a hotel wall wherever you went–common, bland, and not remotely out of the ordinary. 

“Excuse me, I'm sorry to interrupt,” the brunette began as she stopped beside the table. Her eyes landed on Matt as she flashed a stunning smile his way. “I couldn't help but keep stealing glances at you all night and I figured I'd finally just say hello.”

Matt turned in his chair towards the woman, a charming smile already prepared on his face for her. “Well I'm flattered,” he told her. “I only wish I could say the same about stealing glances at you in return all night, but well–”

Matt gestured at his red glasses as the woman laughed, the sound itself somehow even perfect and attractive. That dark feeling of jealousy and despair began knotting together, swirling in your gut and mixing with the beers you'd already downed. Movement across the table from you caught your attention and you glanced over, catching the sight of Karen playfully but discreetly rolling her eyes at you and Foggy. Foggy chuckled lightly in response, nodding a little. Your attention returned back to the condensation on your beer bottle, not interested in having a front row seat to watching another one of Matt's hook-ups pan out.

“Would it be alright if I bought you a drink?” you overheard the brunette ask. “I mean, if I'm not interrupting?”

“I can assure you that you’re absolutely not interrupting anything,” Matt told her, already sliding his chair back and rising to his feet. “I think these three have endured my company long enough for this evening anyway, and it isn't often a woman offers to buy me a drink.”

Matt said a quick round of goodbyes to the three of you as that beautiful brunette’s perfect laugh trilled over the sound of the rock music playing on the bar’s speakers. You muttered something back half-heartedly, not even bothering to glance up from your beer. It wasn’t like he’d have noticed anyway.

“Well maybe it’s about that time,” Foggy said, pulling the sleeve of his dress shirt back to check the time on his watch. “Marci had appointments for cake tastings tomorrow morning and I do not want to miss out on that.” 

Across the table, Karen raised her bottle up to her lips, downing the rest of her beer before setting the empty bottle back onto the table. “I might see if Alex wants to stop over tonight, actually,” she told you both. “Since it’s Friday and I don’t need to show up at the office for once on a Saturday morning.”

As both of them began sliding their chairs back, gathering their things from the table, you remained seated. Fingers tapping against the beer bottle, you watched as a droplet of condensation raced another over the curve of the glass. Out of your peripheral, you caught the way both Foggy and Karen’s movements slowed, the two of them exchanging an uncertain look with each other. Then you heard the way Karen said your name softly in question. Eyes shifting upwards, you focused on her on the other side of the table.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” she asked. “You’ve been oddly quiet all night.”

You forced a tired smile onto your face, nodding as you continued to rest your chin in your hand. “I’m fine,” you lied. “Just going to finish my drink before I leave, I think. Been a rough week at work and I just need to relax a little.”

“Do you…want us to stay?” Foggy asked.

You shook your head, releasing the bottle from your grip long enough to wave the pair of them off. “I’m fine drinking by myself, don’t worry about me,” you told him. “Go on. You both have someone to get back to tonight anyway, I’ll be alright.”

Karen hesitated beside the table, her concerned eyes landing back on Foggy still standing next to you. It looked like they were having a silent conversation with each other, but the thought of them staying here to keep you company when you knew there was somewhere they’d rather be–some one who’d they’d rather be with–only made that uncomfortable and sickening feeling of jealousy in your gut worse. 

Forcing that smile back on your face, you sat upright in your chair, ignoring the way the bar around you briefly spun in your vision from the beers you'd drank. Attempting to play the part of being just fine, you hoped that neither of them could see the truth behind the mask you’d thrown on. You just wanted to sulk back for a few minutes and finish your beer while you unhealthily forced yourself to acknowledge the fact that Matt looked far better next to a woman like the one he was currently laughing with at the bar than someone like you. Then you’d go home, throw on your stained and worn pajamas that weren’t remotely sexy, and probably watch a bit of mindless television before going to bed. Alone. Like every other night.

“Alright, well…hopefully you enjoy your drink,” Karen replied hesitantly, still looking uncertain.

“Make sure you call for a ride, too,” Foggy said, pointing a finger at the window beside you. “Still raining cats and dogs out there. You don’t want to step in a poodle–I mean, puddle–on your way home.”

You laughed lightly at his joke, though not as much as you would’ve done any other night. Exchanging goodbyes with both of them afterwards, you sighed in relief when they finally turned and headed towards the exit. Slumping back down in your seat, you focused on the window to your left as you drew your bottle of beer back up to your lips, watching as the rain continued to come down hard. 

Maybe Melissa at work was right. Maybe it was time you tried downloading one of those stupid dating apps, even though the thought of weeding out so many assholes who just wanted sex was the last thing you wanted to do. But maybe it would beat being alone all the time. It wasn’t like you were having any luck trying to meet someone the old fashioned way–in person.

Taking another drink from your beer, your attention returned to Matt's back as he sat at the bar beside the attractive woman. Drinking down a few deep gulps, you wondered what it would be like to ever have his undivided attention like that. To have him throw jokes your way because he was trying to win you over, not because you were just one of his friends. To have his hand linger on your thigh while he spoke to you because he wanted you and he wanted you to know that. Or to have him lean in towards your ear and whisper literally anything to you. 

Swallowing your beer down, you tore your eyes away from the sight of Matt at the bar. He'd never once flirted with you like that, the thought only increasing the lingering pain of jealousy now spreading to your chest, feeling like it was sucking your heart into a blackhole of nothingness. You just weren't good enough were you?

Ducking your head, you tried to hide the emotion on your face even if the only person left at this bar to notice and comment would be Josie herself. Still, you'd rather not be asked to explain why you looked quite so miserable. But it hurt to realize that every single one of your friends had someone else to go home to tonight, and here you were drinking alone. Going home to an empty apartment after.

Figuring it was time you just downed the rest of your drink and headed home, you grabbed your beer and quickly drained the rest of its contents. Maybe being drenched in the summer rain on your walk back home would make you feel something tonight besides the growing ache of loneliness. 

Setting the finished bottle of beer back onto the table, you clumsily pushed your chair back. Rising to your feet, you nearly lost your balance when you slid out of the chair. Your hands darted out, grabbing onto the table to steady yourself for a moment. Maybe you'd drank those beers back faster than you'd realized, clearly a little more buzzed than you'd expected.

“Not a big deal,” you mumbled to yourself, maneuvering around the chair, “I can still manage to walk back inebriated in the rain.”

Slipping your purse from off the back of the chair, you tossed the strap over your head and readjusted it on yourself. Then you pushed the chair forward so as not to trip over it before turning. 

Immediately you stopped when you saw you weren't alone, a surprised gasp coming from you. You would’ve stumbled backwards if it hadn't been for your hand that flew out, grabbing onto the back of the chair you'd just pushed in. Matt was standing at the edge of the table, his cane unfolded and in both of his hands.

“Hey,” he said, his attention clearly fixed on you. “Josie said you were still here by yourself.”

Brows knitting together in confusion at him suddenly appearing over here when he had just been at the bar, you glanced back over to where you'd last seen him. The brunette he'd been talking to had disappeared entirely, no longer sitting on the bar stool. 

“Yeah, I was just…finishing my drink,” you replied, still scanning the bar for the woman. “Weren't you with someone just a minute ago?”

“Well I was,” he answered, “until Josie pointed out how you were sitting here all by yourself after Fog and Karen had already gone home. Had me worried. Are you doing alright?”

Your gaze returned back to him, taking in the look of concern etched across his handsome face. The same look Karen and Foggy had shared tonight. 

“I'm fine,” you said, repeating the same lie. 

Matt's head tilted curiously to the side, a mannerism of his that you always found adorable. Except for right now, because it felt like he was analyzing what you'd said far more closely than your other friends had.

“If you're heading out, I can call you a car,” Matt suggested. “I can even wait with you if you'd like.”

You shook your head, beginning to make your way past him. “I'm fine, Matt,” you told him. “I was just going to walk back.”

“In the rain?” he asked. “I might be blind but I'm not deaf. It's pouring outside. And you've had quite a few drinks tonight, let me just call you a car. You shouldn’t be walking home in that.”

“Maybe I want to take a walk in the rain,” you countered, coming to a stop beside him. “Something wrong with that? It's just rain.”

His brows drew up onto his forehead behind his glasses as he shifted on his feet. “You really want to walk almost two blocks in the pouring rain right now? Stumbling down the sidewalk alone?” he asked. “You sure about that?”

A frown settled onto your face. When he put it like that, no, you sort of didn't. But you also didn't feel like waiting to grab a cab, either. Especially if it meant waiting with Matt and being the cause of further ruining his evening.

“Alright, how about this,” he continued when you hadn’t answered. “You come back and stay at my place tonight. I think we can both manage a walk around the corner in the rain. I'll let you borrow something dry to sleep in and you can take the bed. That way I won't have to worry if you made it home alright and you can still have your walk in the rain.”

As his offer made its way past the alcoholic fog in your brain, your body stiffened. Had Matt really just invited you to stay the night at his place? Because he was worried about you getting home? And he'd walked away from what was clearly going to be an obvious hook-up? For you ?

You could feel your heart beating a little faster in your chest as all these things gradually began to register in your mind. Why would he do that? He’d never invited you to stay at his place before.

“I–” you began.

You could barely find the words to reply, your brain too muddled by the alcohol to think clearly. Was this just an invitation as a friend, or was it something more? 

“Is that a yes?” he questioned. “Because it sounds like the rain has eased up a bit, now would be the perfect time to head out before it downpours again.”

Slowly you nodded, the ‘yes’ coming out of you before you even realized you’d agreed. Because could you really pass up the chance to stay over at Matt’s place? You knew you’d always be left wondering what might’ve happened if you didn’t go. 

His hand extended out towards you, the movement drawing your gaze downwards. It hovered there in the space between both of your bodies, your eyes lingering on it. 

“Should we go then?” he asked.

Swallowing hard, you hesitantly reached your hand out, slipping it with uncertainty into his. But when his fingers curled around your hand in return, you realized that’s what he’d been silently asking. For you to hold his hand as you walked back with him in the rain.

“Probably will make it easier to keep either of us from tripping,” he told you, turning the pair of you around in the bar until you were both facing the exit. “Though I suppose now if one of us falls down, we both do.”

His head turned towards you, a cheeky grin on his mouth directed solely at you. You could feel the way your heart skipped in your chest at the sight, the cold, miserable feeling that you’d been experiencing all night easing its way out of you just a little. 

“So, do you care to lead the way or…?”

Snapping out of your daze staring at him–something you were grateful he couldn’t see–you quickly nodded. “Right, sorry,” you muttered, beginning to lead the pair of you towards the door.

The moment you’d led the pair of you out of Josie’s and out from beneath the little overhang at the entrance, the warm rain had already begun to soak your hair and your clothes. It had felt good though, especially with Matt’s warm, calloused hand wrapped around yours. As you sidestepped a puddle, you found yourself surprised at the unexpected turn that your evening had taken. Though there was still something on your mind and your inebriated brain just couldn’t resist finding out the answer as the pair of you neared the corner of the block.

“So…how much did I ruin your night tonight?” you asked Matt cautiously.

He glanced over his shoulder towards you, his cane tapping along the sidewalk and occasionally splashing up water each time it hit a puddle. Your bottom lip rolled back between your teeth as you began nervously gnawing on it, afraid of his answer.

“You didn’t ruin my night,” he replied easily. “Though I’ve been a bit worried about you. You’ve been quieter more than usual tonight. Is something on your mind?”

Yeah, you , you thought.

But of course, you couldn’t say that aloud.

You shrugged, your gaze dropping to the pavement ahead of you. “Just feeling a little down on myself, I guess,” you muttered. 

Hearing the words aloud had you cringing as you walked. You hadn't exactly meant to be honest and tell him that. 

“Feeling down on yourself about what, exactly?” he asked.

The pair of you rounded the corner, your blouse already drenched and sticking to your skin. Glancing up at Matt from beneath your lashes beside you, you couldn't help but notice the way his dress shirt was soaked and clinging to his muscular torso. It was physically painful how attractive he was. 

“It's stupid,” you mumbled, focusing back down on the pavement. 

Matt's hand squeezed yours, your heart practically slamming into your ribcage in shock at the gesture. You hoped he didn't notice the way your palm was gradually beginning to dampen with nervous sweat.

“Tell me what's on your mind,” he urged. “You know I won't judge you.”

The pair of you were quickly approaching Matt's apartment building as his words hung in the air between you. It was true though, in all your time knowing Matt he'd never once been mean to you. Never once had he made you feel bad about yourself. If anything he'd always been sweet and supportive, which only made you like him that much more. You sighed, and then suddenly you felt your drunk thoughts spilling out of your mouth faster than you could stop them. 

“I feel like I'm not good enough,” you confessed, the words spewing from you. “I haven't had a date in a long time. And then there's Marci and Fog who're getting married soon–and that's great. They're perfect for each other. And Karen, well, she might usually have poor luck with men, but she gets dates left and right. And she's gorgeous and smart so I get it. And then you–” you continued, wincing at the memory of him next to that brunette at Josie’s, his hand on her thigh, “–you could have a new fling for every night of the week in this damn city. But me?” You roughly shook your head, a tear managing to slip out of your eye and camouflaging itself with the drops of rain on your cheeks. “No one looks twice at me. I'm not special and I'm certainly not Karen or Marci. I don't even remember the last time a guy showed up to my place with flowers. It's been a long time since someone actually asked me on a date. And–”

You stopped short, your brain finally catching up and realizing all the things you'd just said aloud. You sucked in a breath as the wave of embarrassment hit you, your mouth promptly closing. How could you have possibly just admitted all that to Matt of all people?

“You know that's not true, right?” Matt said gently, his hand once again squeezing yours. “I'm sure plenty of guys have given you second or third looks. You're an incredibly smart and talented woman and you're being far too hard on yourself.”

You scoffed loudly, rolling your eyes as heat burned at your cheeks. But at the sound of your disbelief, Matt's hand gave a sharp pull on yours, drawing you both to a stop in front of his building. 

“Hey,” he said, tugging your hand and pulling you towards himself. “You should stop thinking about yourself like that. Stop being so critical of yourself. You're so much more than you give yourself credit for.”

Hearing his kind words, you couldn't bear to look him in the face. Feeling awkward, your gaze fixed down on your wet dress flats. “Easy for you to say,” you muttered, the alcohol once more loosening your tongue, “because you're successful and don't remotely have an issue attracting the opposite sex. It's not like that for the rest of us.”

Matt said your name firmly, the tone of his voice practically commanding you to focus back on him. His expression was serious despite the red glasses he wore obscuring his eyes, making it impossible to see the entirety of his face. His hair was soaked and clinging to his head from the rain, a few droplets streaming down his handsome face as he fixed his attention solely on you. Your hands instantly began to grow clammier under his undivided attention and you hoped he thought it was just from the rain.

“You're an amazing person and some lucky guy is going to come and sweep you off your feet,” he told you. “You'll find him, I can assure you of that.”

As you gazed back at him on the sidewalk, the rain still falling over the pair of you, your buzzed brain tried to understand if there was something else hidden in Matt's words, some other thing that he was trying to tell you. Because just like he'd never invited you to stay at his place, he'd never said anything like that to you before. He'd certainly never looked at you like he currently was before, either. 

“Please try to be kinder to yourself,” Matt nearly begged. “Okay?”

Unsure what to make of his behavior tonight, you nodded slightly. “Okay,” you agreed quietly.

He smiled back at you, the sight nearly knocking you off your feet. It was quickly becoming far too difficult to just stand here trying to look at him as only a friend. And it was getting harder and harder to keep your mouth from blurting out how you felt with that stunning smile on his perfect mouth. Thankfully he continued on towards the entrance of his building, breaking you from your thoughts and leading you into the small lobby and over towards the elevators.

The entire way up to Matt's apartment had been silent after that. You were too busy trying to analyze everything he had been doing and saying tonight to even remotely think of conversation. Because it was supposed to have been that pretty woman at the bar coming up to his apartment tonight, not you. Yet here you were, still holding Matt's hand as he led you down the hallway to his place.

And while this certainly wasn't the first time you'd been here before, it was the first time you'd been here alone at night with him. The thought of staying here overnight in his bed still had your insides buzzing along with the beer you'd downed this evening. 

Was there something more you were missing? Every step closer to his apartment had you feeling like there was.

Matt eventually pulled you to a stop in front of his door, fishing his keys from out of his dress pant pockets. You watched in silence as he unlocked the door, your nerves only growing as you stood there. 

“You can come on in,” Matt told you, swinging his door open and gesturing for you to step inside. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you hesitantly stepped forward and made your way past Matt into the apartment. Your shoulder gently and accidentally brushed against his damp chest as you tried to squeeze past him. Immediately you wrapped your arms over your chest, feeling your heart beat a little harder from the brief touch. His chest was so incredibly solid, you'd never understood how he was so in shape.

Glancing down as you paused in his entryway, you noticed the damp patch you were making on his floor as he shut and locked the door behind you. 

“I'm sorry, I'm dripping water everywhere,” you told Matt. “Do you have a towel or something?”

“How about I grab some dry clothes for you to change into,” he replied, slipping out of his dress shoes. “Then we can worry about the mess we're making.”

As he made his way down the short entryway, you stood awkwardly in place, arms still wrapped around yourself. When Matt reached the end of the little hall, he paused, glancing back at you with a charming smile on his face.

“It's just water, it's fine,” he assured you. “You can come in.”

Slowly you began to make your way into his apartment, cautiously making your way over to the side of his leather couch. Matt once again assured you he would grab some dry clothes for you to change into before disappearing into his bedroom, leaving you alone.

The lights were off in his apartment, but truthfully you didn't even need them. Looking out the window to your right, your eyes landed on the eyesore of a billboard just across the street. It had been awhile since you'd been here at night with your friends and you'd forgotten just how bright it was. Currently it was advertising a nearby hospital, the blue light shining through Matt's windows and coating the room in a navy glow. In a way it was beautiful, but you could absolutely understand why he’d gotten such a great deal on the place. 

“Hopefully these will work,” Matt said.

Tearing your eyes away from the window, your attention returned to Matt as he was leaving his bedroom. But your breath immediately caught in your throat at the unexpected sight of him sauntering his way towards you with some neatly folded clothes in his hands. It felt like you suddenly couldn't breathe as you watched each of his casual steps towards you.

He'd taken his damp shirt off and removed his glasses when he'd gone into his bedroom to grab you some clothes. The sight of which had left you damn near speechless because you'd never seen him shirtless before. It was impossible not to just blankly stare at the sight, taking in all of the defined muscle along his chest along with the girth of his muscular arms. You curiously noted the scars on his chest, but you were too busy trying to control your now violently beating heart at the view before you to think much more of them.

Matthew Murdock looked far too good to actually exist in real life. 

But why hadn't he thrown a shirt on before he'd come out to hand you the clothes? It would’ve taken him barely any time to do so. Had it been intentional that he'd done that? Was it…possible that Matt might’ve been trying to make some sort of move on you tonight? Was that why he’d invited you back here this evening instead of the other woman at the bar?

He stopped just before you, a smile on his face as his eyes fixed somewhere along your chest. You always loved when he took his glasses off around you, but unfortunately it wasn't often. He always seemed far more vulnerable, which was probably why it was a rare sight. But he’d removed them now, and as you watched him, you noticed the faintest twitch to the corner of his eyes. You wondered what that was about as he extended the clothes in his hands out towards you. 

“Here,” he said softly. “Hopefully they're comfortable, but if not, I can always get you a towel to dry off. Though really you can sleep however you're comfortable.” His smile turned cheeky–a smile he didn’t often flash your way–as the corners of his eyes creased. “Not like I can see anything anyway.”

Your fingers tightened around your damp blouse at the implication of his words. Had he just said he didn't care if you slept in nothing? In his bed?

Swallowing hard, your eyes dropped down and focused on the shirt and sweatpants that were neatly folded in his outstretched hands. His clothes. He was offering you his clothes to sleep in. Nervously you unwrapped your arms from over your chest as you took a step towards him, your trembling hands carefully reaching out and accepting the clothing from him.

“Thanks,” you whispered.

Glancing up, you realized how close the pair of you were now standing to each other. Barely any distance was left between you two. Had he even managed to move closer or were you imagining that?

“Of course,” he whispered back.

He was still smiling down at you as you drew the clothes in towards your chest. His head had tilted ever so faintly to the side as you observed him, the heat of his body warming you in your damp clothes. Why hadn’t he moved? Why was he still standing so close? 

A thought struck you as you stood there, your attention turning towards his lips. Was he…wanting to kiss you? No, that couldn’t be it.

…could it?

He had invited you back to his place after all. He’d walked you home with him in the rain hand in hand–which had been his idea. That had been far more intimate than anything the pair of you had ever done before. And now he was letting you stay the night in his bed, offering you his own clothes to change into. Saying such nice things about you. And he was just standing there, gazing down at you in nothing but a pair of damp dress pants because he’d removed his shirt without bothering to put on another one. 

This had to all be intentional, right? He could’ve easily gone home with the brunette from the bar, but he chose you, didn’t he? Maybe what he’d been saying earlier outside the building in the rain had meant something more. Could he have been talking about himself being the guy to come along and sweep you off your feet? Had that been what he’d meant all along?

Hope instantly sparked in your chest at the thought. Everything seemed to make sense, everything seemed to point at the fact that Matt might possibly view you as more than just a friend. So was this your moment then? Your chance to tell Matt how you felt and to hear he felt the same in return? Because he was still just standing there, so close you could kiss him. Why else hadn’t he moved?

Without even thinking–most likely due to the alcohol in your system–you leaned forward and boldly closed the rest of the distance between your mouths. It was a hesitant kiss, your lips ever so gently pressing against Matt’s in an uncertain connection. You couldn’t believe how incredibly soft his were, how warm they felt against your own. Your stomach began somersaulting inside of you because you were kissing Matt. It was everything you’d wanted for almost a year now.

Until he gently but abruptly pulled away from you.

Your eyes fluttered open as you drew back from him, taking in the look of utter confusion on Matt’s face. Panic immediately set in, your hands tightening around the bundle of clothing in your hands. 

“What–what are you doing?” he asked.

“I–I thought–” you stammered, struggling to form a sentence. “Was that–is this not…?”

Matt’s head only tilted further to the side, his dark brows furrowing further together on his forehead until there was a deep crease between them. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or your nerves at this point, but you felt on the verge of vomiting now.

What the hell had you just done?

“Did you think I was inviting you here to sleep with you?” he asked in disbelief. He said your name, the sound like a stab to your chest as he shook his head. “I had no intention of that. You’re drunk and you’re my friend. I wanted to make sure you got to somewhere safe tonight. I wasn’t trying to take advantage of you. That’s not–that’s not what I was doing.”

“Oh my God,” you breathed out, taking a step back from him. “Oh my God, I thought that–that you…”

Your words trailed off, eyes growing wide as the urge to bolt quickly took over you. You could feel the sting of tears burning in your eyes already, absolutely mortified at what you’d done and how you’d wildly misread the entire situation. How could you have been so incredibly stupid?

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, vision blurring from the tears welling up in your eyes. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have–that wasn’t okay. I shouldn’t have done that. I’ve had too much to drink and–and I wasn’t thinking,” you blabbered on. “I absolutely misread things, I just thought that–that maybe you liked me, too and–”

Matt said your name softly, as if he was trying to calm a panicked animal. “You’re my friend,” he told you. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression at all this evening but–”

You practically threw the bundle of clothes back at Matt’s bare chest. His hands flew up, somehow catching them, but the gesture had cut him clean off. That spark of hope that had formed in your chest moments ago quickly sizzled out. A roiling, churning instead grew in your stomach, making you certain that you’d throw up soon if you didn’t get the hell out of here. 

“I need to go,” you blurted.

Turning abruptly, you hurried through Matt’s living room and down the entryway hall. Behind you, you heard him calling your name, but you didn’t dare stop. You couldn’t face him, not after what you’d just idiotically done. Especially not now as the tears were finally falling down your cheeks in hot spurts, embarrassment and rejection both burning inside of you. You just needed to get out of here, needed to get away from this entire horrible situation. You couldn’t believe you’d just gone and kissed him like that.

Your frantic hands fumbled with the lock on his door, but you managed to undo it and wrench it open in a rush. Continuing to ignore him calling after you, you pulled the door shut after yourself before you darted across the hall and straight to the door leading to the stairwell. Throwing it open, you began racing down the stairs as fast as you could, a hand covering your mouth as you tried to muffle your pathetic sobs. Your heart slammed away against your ribcage as the tears began to fall faster down your cheeks. As you descended the stairs, your vision blurred from tears and the alcohol you'd drank, causing you to stumble a few times on your way all the way down to the main floor. 

Ignoring the looks from the few people you sprinted past in the lobby, you headed straight towards the building’s exit. Forcefully pushing the doors open, you made your way back out onto the sidewalk and into the rain. A choked sob slipped past your fingers as you continued to hurry down the pavement and back towards your own apartment, your flats quickly becoming soaked as you stepped through a few puddles, splashing water up onto your dress pants. 

You’d just gone and kissed Matt like an absolute idiot. Of course he’d told you that he only saw you as a friend. Why would Matt ever be interested in someone like you? Someone awkward and average, nothing special. 

You’d absolutely ruined that friendship now, too. There was no way in hell you could ever face him again. You weren’t sure how you were going to survive Marci’s wedding months from now. Maybe if you were lucky you could try to ignore him all day. He’d probably be more than happy to do the same after tonight.

“ Why did I kiss him?” you lamented to yourself. “How stupid !”

Your tears continued to fall, mixing with the heavy rain drops pelting your cheeks as you rushed back to your place. All you wanted to do was get up to your apartment and crawl beneath the blankets in your bed and hide. You just wanted to forget this entire nightmare of an evening. There was no way to salvage what you’d done, to take it back. 

You should have never gone out tonight.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x you #matt murdock #matt murdock x fem!reader

[talesof-old]

bathroom conversations | j.p.

pairing(s): james potter x reader

warning(s): mentions of cheating (not by james or reader), mentions of rude coworkers, reader has hair that is long enough to “lay flat” after being straightened, not proofread or edited

word count: 663

a/n: the second request for my thousand followers and birthday celebration (i still have four slots open!! please request 🙏)

masterlist

james potter + doing hair for a night out + gossiping

Comfortable silence filled the hair, save for the clicking of your flat iron as James helped you straighten your hair. While he was still learning how to properly blow dry your hair, you were more than happy to let him do this part. You glanced up from your book to stare at him in the mirror.

“Should I get the camera, love? You’re staring an awful lot.”

You rolled your eyes, reaching back to elbow him in the ribs, ignoring his laughter. He leaned over your body to press a kiss to your cheek, warm skin pressed against yours. You hummed.

James stood shirtless behind you, claiming that the blow dryer made it too warm in the little area you called the bathroom. Teaching him to do your hair had proven to be great bonding time, if not a little distracting.

“So she was flirting with him the whole time?”

The exasperated expression you responded with was enough to send him howling with laughter. Susan, your least favorite coworker, was most certainly not invited to your birthday dinner, not after her horrid behavior over the past few weeks. First, she’d made moves on one of your friend’s boyfriends. Then she started making comments about James. Yesterday, she’d flirted with another one of your coworkers while he was at the restaurant meeting his girlfriend’s parents.

“Yeah! I mean his girlfriend was just right there, and Susan wouldn’t stop. I felt so bad for that girl.”

He shook his head, giving you another kiss on the temple before moving to the next section of your hair.

“I’m surprised you didn’t say anything, especially after Thursday.”

You huffed. He smoothed out the next part of hair to perfection, letting it fall down and lay straight. You closed your book.

“I wanted to! But then I remembered what she said about you and I would’ve caught a charge, rest assured.”

James snorted, letting down the next parting to have a go at. It didn’t take long to finish as he started to get into a groove.

“I just can’t imagine how she’s had a boyfriend for so long, surely he’d break up with her after realizing what she does?” You tsked, wincing slightly as your hair got caught on one of the clips.

“Sorry.”

You shrugged, letting him work as you contemplated your coworker. She was beautiful, in a conventional way, blonde with blue eyes that she lined like Twiggy. It made her look trendy and cute, but she was a right piece of work. Mean to the point of cruelty and entitled in a way you’d only expect from a small child.

“Do you think she even realizes what she’s doing?” You blinked, glancing up into the mirror to stare at James.

“Maybe? She seems to get a kick out of pissing people off.” He nodded along with your words, making his way through to the last section of hair. You stretched your back, joints popping. James winced at the sound but continued on, soldiering through the battle that was doing your hair. It wasn’t hard by any means, it just seemed to take forever.

As he straightened out the last few partings, you went ahead and grabbed your hair oil. The glass bottle clinked against the counter as you settled back onto the stool that you were sure was going to bruise your arse.

“Wonder if she’s actually cheated on him, the poor bloke. Can’t imagine how it must feel.” You giggled a little.

“He’s just as bad, if I’m honest.”

James clicked his tongue as he shut off the flat iron, setting it on the counter to cool. He pressed up against you again, arms wrapping around your waist to let your hair cool. He was careful to avoid getting your hair wet, his own hair still a touch damp from when he’d styled it.

“Everyone does have a match I suppose.”

You nodded, all but melting into his arms.

“I suppose they do.”

#marauders x reader #marauders era #marauders #james potter x you #james potter fluff #james potter x reader #james potter drabble #james potter #james fleamont potter #talesofold birthday special

[hoeforalbedo]

Dolly (Finale)

Demon Alastor x Demon Housewife!Reader

Tw: Alcohol, Club, reader referred to woman, murder, rushed work.

Note: It’s kinda rushed. I tried. I was watching a school play and it was Chicago so I thought why not start it off at the club. I was also going to write a smut but it wouldn’t save so I guess it just wasn’t meant to be. Last part was literally taken from Hannibal 😭😭

———————————————————————

Loud sounds of the trumpet ring throughout the club. It’s not the modernized type of clubs. No, flappers gather around dancing to the music with others at the dance floor. It’s almost as if everyone gathered together to learn the choreography as they all seem to dance in unison.

“Whiskey?” A small lady asks, holding a glass cup.

“I’m good Mimzy,” You smile. You lean back on your chair.

After years of loneliness, you’ve finally come to the end of your days. It was no natural death. Even in old age you found yourself feeding off the high you felt from murder. It was the only thing keeping you sane, ironically.

One moment were falling back onto the ground, the second you were greeted by the gold pearly gates. “Welcome to Heaven. Name please?”

“Hi, I am Y/N L/N, I believe I would not be on that list,” You smiled.

“Is that so? Surely I fine mannered lady like you should be on the list.” The angel hummed and looked at his list. “How odd, your name isn’t here.”

“I hope not, it isn’t. I’m very aware that murder is a huge sin,” You chuckled.

“Oh. . . Well then-“ You found yourself falling once more.

“My dear wife can’t handle her liquor well,” The static voice breaks you out of your thoughts.

“Oh Alastor, you know I’m not one for alcohol,” you say, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I’ll take that, Mimzy.”

“Oh you two are truly a match made in hell,” The short flapper laughs.

“Hell?” You smirk, looking at Alastor.

“Truly.” Your husband answers, taking your hand and kissing the back of it.

“Oh I’ll leave you demon couple to be. I don’t plan to be a third wheel. Ta ta~!” The flapper waves, getting lost in the crowd.

“I believe we have time,” You look at him mischievously.

“I believe we do!” Alastor looks at a certain direction of the club, eyes landing at a man sniffing some substance. “I wouldn’t want to waste the night, especially since my wife dressed all pretty for me. Care for a dance?”

You jump up from your chair. “Why I thought you’d never ask!” You smile as Hit the Road Jack through the speakers. The song is very much after Alastor’s time however he found that he enjoys his music.

The two of you get to the dance floor. He places his hand at the small of your back and swing in sync with the music. He takes the lead, spinning and twirling you around.

“How I missed this!” You scream over the music.

“I’ve forgotten how amazing you are,” Alastor compliments, hooking your leg around his waist.

“Dancing was one of the many things I’ve missed.”

Alastor slowly dips you low to the ground before pulling you back up. “The day I took you dancing, I knew I was in love.” No, actually his mom suggested he take you dancing although he was taken off guard when you managed to keep up with him.

The demon lets go of your hands, letting you shimmy around him to allow you to have a clear view of what’s going around the club. He then takes your hand, pulling you back in and guiding you to twist your hips while kicking your feet.

It’s amazing how in synch you two are with how fast the song is. At the same time, the both of you are keeping a lookout for the man that you both could not bother to know the name of.

“Alastor,” You suddenly say darkly, looking over his shoulders.

“Allow me.” He managed to maneuver you both in the dancing crowd, spinning and twirling along with them.

“How dramatic you are. We could have walked!” You chuckle.

“Well you know me, I am one for theatrics. I trust you can handle the rest?”

“Of course dear!” You smile. He twirls you one last time and you spin much farther than you should, causing you to bump into a man who ends up spilling his drink on him.

“Shit you woman this is expensive!” The man yells.

“Oh I apologize! How clumsy of me,” You apologize profusely, taking your handkerchief out and trying to dry the liquid. Your doe eyes look at him innocently, looking full of regret.

“Well I’m sure I can forgive you, if you give me your. . .” He scans your body, taking in the black dress that is modest yet perfectly hugs your curves. Your cleavage peeks out just enough to leave the rest for the imagination. “Yeah, how about you offer me your body for the night.”

You look at him with innocent confusion. “I’m afraid I can’t do much for a night. A laborious task of cleaning the stain of your suit would take me a couple hours at best!” You play coyly although you know he intends to sleep with you.

“I- you know what, how about you come with me. I’ll show you a good time,” He smirks.

“Oh that’s just the experience I’m looking for!”

“Perfect.” The man leads you out to the back of the club. Your back is leaned up against the brick walls as the man gets very close to you.

“I’m not sure how this is more fun compared to dancing.”

“How did an innocent thing like you get into hell?” The man chuckles, taking your wrists and pinning it over your head.

“I lied just a little bit,” You answered.

“How naughty,” He hums, about to burry his face into your neck until he was simultaneously pulled back by shadow tendrils.

“I’m sorry for my vagueness. I lied about murdering someone,” You smile then walk to Alastor’s side.

“Who the fuck ar- Fuck,” the man’s eyes widen realizing that the one holding him captive is none other than the radio demon he had messed with a couple days prior and that you are associated with him.

“Am quite aware that I allowed for this to happen, but I still hate the fact that someone touched what’s mine,” The radio demon says menacingly, the filter in his voice going in and out.

“Alastor, sweetheart, how about we save this for the broadcast,” You mutter to him, putting your hand on his chest. “It was the plan after all, right?”

“Why you’re right, my dear. Well then!” He wraps an arm around you and teleports the three of you to his radio station.

“Oh fucking hell. Come on man! I don’t even know who this bitch is! Spare me!” The guy begs.

Alastor’s head spin towards the man while the rest of his body remains still. “This bitch is my wife and I will not tolerate your demeaning words. However!”

The man sighs in relief. “I do not fight my wife’s battles so my dear, do as you please.”

“Gladly. I was thinking meatloaf for tonight,” You smile as you glide towards your poor victim with a butchers knife.

“Good afternoon to my fellow sinners of hell! It is I, Alastor, accompanied with my lovely wife for the first time.”

“Hello!” You say cheerfully as you chopped the man’s fingers, a scream filling the studio.

“Today there will be music, dancing,” His filter disappears, “screaming,” his voice goes back to the usual, “and all that jazz so sit back, relax, and enjoy.” Another scream resonates through the air as Alastor plays some peaceful music. He then turns to you who has been chopping off the man’s external parts. “I hope you’ve left some for me, ma chere. I’m still rather irked from earlier.”

“Oh he’s still very much alive, see!” You say, pulling the man’s cheek to force a smile on his face.

“Lovely. I hope you don’t mind a bit more blood, my dear.”

You chuckle, “Oh I’m by far very used to it.”

He kisses your forehead, “What a doll you are, me cherie.”

“Only for you.”

“Just fucking kill me already!” The man begs.

“Gladly,” Alastor says, voice deep without any filter.

———————————————————————

“Smells delicious dear,” Alastor kisses your head.

“Of course! We made it together. Is Charlie and her father almost here?” You ask as you place the last dish down on the table.

“I believe-“ A knock is heard. “They are here now.”

“Let’s hurry and greet them!” You say excitedly, taking your apron off and putting it away.

The two of you open the door with bright smiles.

“Hello you two!” You greet, hugging the both of them.

“Well hello,” Alastor says, less enthusiastically as he glares at Lucifer.

“Well if looks could kill,” Lucifer begins only to be interrupted by his daughter.

“Well I’m glad that we were invited to your home, although of course we always have space at the hotel, and I feel so bad for coming empty handed,” Charlie speaks almost as if she’s being chased by something by how fast she speaks.

“That’s absolutely fine. My wife really only ever eats the food she or I prepare,” Alastor says. “Shall we?”

The father and daughter find themselves walking past the living room where deer heads are posted above the fireplace. Once they get to the dining room, the vibe is much more homey.

“You can tell who decorated what in the house,” Lucifer snickers.

“Wow! These all look delicious!” Charlie’s eyes sparkle at the food.

“Please have a seat!” You say.

All of you begin eating, making small talk. “This tastes good. What kind of meat is this?” Lucifer asks curiously.

“Rabbit,” Alastor answers.

“He should have hopped faster.”

The couple look at each other. You smile, “Yeah, he should have.”

———————————————————————

Tags: @notsentimentalll @mixplara @futureittomainn @karolinda007-blog

#alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin x y/n

[navstuffs]

BratTamer!Leon Kennedy with a SpoiledRichGN!Reader (warning: mild dubcon, SMUT SO MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

author's notes: yes, i know i normally don't write about this, but really been in the mood lately for something like this. enjoy!

BratTamer!Leon Kennedy, who gets hired by your rich dad to be your bodyguard, but only on paper. The truth? Your dad is tired of your spoiled attitude and decided to hire someone to teach you some manners, though he was the one to spoil you in the first place.

BratTamer!Leon is hated by you at first sight. You don't like having someone around you as you try to spend your afternoons spending money and going to luxurious parties, especially when your friends are more attracted to hitting on him, always being stared at by his watchful blue eyes (when he isn't wearing those stupid sunglasses). Sure, he is attractive, but they can't see he is a pain in the ass, standing behind you with those dumb sunglasses and incredibly sexy blue suit?

BratTamer!Leon gets tired of your superior attitude toward everyone and is close to his limit. The last straw is when he sees you screaming at a poor young lady worker from a high-end store for simply bumping into you on accident, though she tried to apologize in a tearful tone. You don't notice Leon's eyes fill with rage as you scream about how incompetent the seller is, so the whole store hears as you humiliate her. This behavior from you ends today.

"You think you are better than everyone, don't you? Just because you are rich? Just because daddy gives everything to you? It is time someone teaches you some manners." BratTamer!Leon growls before shoving your mouth down his cock when you are back in the expensive car. You realize there is no resistance on your part, a little anger inside your belly, though Leon isn't forcing you down. You are doing it because you want it. "Look how well your lips are taking me. How long have you wanted this?" Fucking bastard.

BratTamer!Leon who vows to fuck you as you need if you behave nicely but punish you badly if you don't. At first, you roll your eyes, ignoring the desperate sensation of being with Leon again. But when a maid from your house breaks a glass cup accidentally, you start screaming at her, not because you care about the cup but because you want to know what kind of trouble Leon is talking about.

The sounds of the slaps on your ass probably echo to the house, but you don't care. At least your dad isn't home. BratTamer!Leon has you on his lap, your ass exposed. He makes you count every single one of the slaps and tears in the corner of your eyes, and he warns, "Do not lose count," you lose it "on accident" a couple of times. BratTamer!Leon is still nice enough to rub your ass when he thinks you've had enough, impressed by how much you took it.

But he keeps his promise. When you apologize to the worker for screaming at her (attracting many surprised stares from everyone), BratTamer!Leon returns late at night to your room and gives you exactly what he promised.

"Haven't been fucked like this in ages, haven't you? See what happens if you behave? I can give you much more than this." BratTamer!Leon grunts as he takes you from behind, grabbing your waist, not giving you time to breathe, every single pound hitting deeper inside of you. You want to tell him to go fuck himself, but he is taking you so good, so good, you can only sob a miserable no, begging to not stop.

Your whole demeanor changes. You become more polite, greeting those you always considered lower than you. Your dad is shocked, simply asking BratTamer!Leon, what it took. Leon smiles as he answers, "Just be firm, that is all."

But no one can change like that, and your brat personality comes out when you see a friend of your dad's hitting on your bodyguard during your birthday party. You honestly don't know half of those people, used to your dad using you for fame, but as you see those long red nails in BratTamer!Leon's dark suit, you bump into them with your wine glass before leaving.

He finds you on the balcony, his white shirt wet with wine, his suit jacket long forgotten. He is pissed, you are furious, and when he asks what that was all about, you tell him to go back and find someone else who he can have fun. And now you sound fucking stupid, with tears in your voice, turning around. You are hoping for him to punish you when you turn away, but when BratTamer!Leon's hand grabs your arm and turns you gently, his hand holding your face.

"Why would I want someone else if I only want you, bratty?"

BratTamer!Leon decides to give your birthday gift earlier. By bending you over the balcony, he suggests you stay quiet so no one looks up and sees how slutty you are. His face goes between your legs as he pushes his fingers inside of you. You hold back your moans, your legs trembling, and it doesn't take long until you whimper for him to stop teasing you and fuck in front of all those people to show everyone who you belong to. Not once does a single head rise despite Leon's grunts, occasional slaps in your ass, and the apparent noise of sex from the balcony. You still manage to keep quiet, even when he raises your leg so his dick can go even more deeper.

When you are done, BratTamer!Leon doesn't leave you like the other times. No, he helps you get to bed, helps clean your body's sweat, and cuddles with you. Leon simply shrugs when you ask him what your dad would think about him on your bed, replying maybe a little of your stubbornness rubbed on him.

"Really? You would blame this on me?" You wonder, pretending to be shocked.

"Why not? Everyone knows you are a bad influence. I might as well be the victim in all of this. Or he would thank me for giving you some manners."

"You really think really you have straightened me up, didn't you, Kennedy??" You tease, and he jokingly gives you a warning slap in your ass.

"We shall see this, brat."

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy fanfic #leon s kennedy fanfic

[cupid-styles]

come on, disco queen*

Word count: 6,200+

70s!Harry and virgin fmc!! Enjoy disco bbs 🪩🍒💌🔮🫶🏼🩷

Smut CWs: dirty talk, talk of anal, fingering, squirting, fmc being a pillow princess hehe

—

Daisy's limbs are haphazardly thrown askew over the length of the couch when Harry walks into the apartment he shares with his sister, Willow.

He resists the urge to roll his eyes at her appearance; her stature barely covered in a crocheted halter top and a hopelessly tiny pair of denim shorts. She's barefoot, eyes closed and buried in the crook of her elbow. He assumes he's sleeping as he kicks his sneakers off and moseys into the kitchenette, focusing on the all-consuming dryness coating his throat and mouth.

San Diego in the middle of summer was not for the faint of heart.

She lifts her head up when her ears perk up at the sound of someone shuffling through the kitchen. She expects to see Willow, but instead is met with Harry, and huffs, dramatically tossing her head back against the woven pillow.

"Don't you have a home?" Harry finally bites, breaking the silence between the two. The only other sound echoing through the area of the apartment is the large fan Harry managed to snag with some leftover cash from his paycheck earlier this summer. Even though it's not efficient enough to cool down the entire place, it's decent at breaking down the sticky humidity.

"It's too hot to move." Daisy mutters. He glances over, trying to ignore her uncovered midriff and the way her breasts are barely covered by the white stitches of her top. This time, he does roll his eyes — it's not that he doesn't like his sister's best friend, it's just that if she was going to hang around the apartment, especially without Willow, then maybe she could cover up just a little bit more.

"Better start pitching in for electric then," he utters between sips of lukewarm tap water. "Willow still at work?"

Daisy sits up now, her long brown hair mussed by what Harry can only assume is an afternoon of laying down on his couch. She nods, blinking her eyes slowly as they adjust to the warmth of the room. It was one of Harry's favorite parts of the apartment — the way the sun hit in the late afternoon, effectively making it glow.

"Yeah. I think she swapped shifts with the pregnant girl she works with so she went in later. Think she said something about being home around 10 tonight?"

Harry nods as he finishes his glass of water, giving it a quick rinse and placing it on the dish towel they used for drying.

"You sticking around then?" he asks, leaning his hip against the refrigerator and crossing his arms over his chest. Daisy shrugs and glances up at the clock, her eyebrows raising slightly when she reads the time.

"Was thinking about hitting the record store before they close. I wanted to grab that new Fleetwood Mac album. I haven't been able to get that one song out of my head since I heard it on the radio the other day — you can go your own way, or something?"

Harry nods knowingly. He'd been a fan of Fleetwood since they release their last album and had been first in line to snag their most recent.

"Rumours, yeah?" He asks, and Daisy lights up, her eyes wide, "I have it. There's this one incredible song — "Dreams" — and it's all Stevie. The lyrics are amazing."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Harry replies, "I'm surprised you didn't already snag it when it came out."

Daisy works at the local record store which, if Harry's being completely honest, is kind of his dream job. He thinks it's really cool that she gets to check out all the newest music and has first dibs on albums, even if their music taste differed sometimes — he tended to lean more towards Led Zeppelin, while Daisy favored Donna Summer.

"It's been sold out for ages," Daisy says with a shrug, "I swear, there was a week where it was the only record I sold."

Harry chuckles at that and opens the refrigerator, reaching in to grab a can of Miller.

"You want one? I moved the player into my room 'cos of that party Willow threw a few weeks ago, when that kid almost ralphed all over it," Harry rolls his eyes, "We can listen to it in there, if you want."

Admittedly, Daisy is taken aback just a tad. She's been hanging around Willow for the past few years — she's originally from the Pacific Northwest and moved out to San Diego shortly after graduating high school, chasing a pipe dream on the tail end of '60s-fueled free love, only to find a major culture change in the early '70s.

The war out in Vietnam had created a ton of tension and, on her second day here, she spent the morning at a diner, her green eyes widened and glued to the hazy television reporting on the latest death count. She rolled her eyes when an older man huffed past her, mumbling something under his breath about being a sensitive hippie — she wasn't, she just had a compassionate heart — but she felt slightly seen when one of the waitresses sat down in the booth next to her, coffee pot in her hand, her own face crawling with horror.

They sat there in silence as the local news anchor read off the names of American soldiers that had passed in combat.

"'s heartbreaking, isn't it?"

Daisy turned to look at the waitress, a tanned, fresh-faced girl with curly brown hair.

"Totally freaky," Daisy sighed out with a shake of her head.

"You know anyone out there?" The girl asked, nudging her chin the direction of the television. Daisy was fortunate; she'd known a few guys from high school that had been unlucky enough to get drafted shortly after their 17th birthday, but that was it.

"No, thankfully not. You?"

The waitress pursed her lips, "No. My brother would've gotten picked for sure if he was an American citizen. Lucky for us, we're still working on the whole immigration thing. Brits and whatever."

"That's a trip." Daisy breathed, and the girl nodded.

"Totally." She stood from the booth and reached over to refill Daisy's coffee cup. "Are you new to town?"

"What, the duffel give it away?" Daisy smirked, making the girl laugh out loudly.

"Far out. Do you have a place to stay? You seem nifty, my brother and I have some room if you need a couch to crash on."

The rest, she supposes, is history.

Daisy only stayed at Harry and Willow's place for a month or so before nabbing a job at Sam's Records. Thanks to their generosity, she was able to save up to snag a small loft in the neighborhood, but she was happy.

She was especially happy when she was around Harry, too.

He didn't express a huge interest in Daisy, and she soon found out it was because he was a casanova of sorts. He worked hard, enough to maintain the apartment and pay the bulk of the rent and bills, but he was constantly bringing girls back for quickies. Willow would roll her eyes and gag, Daisy would ignore the twinge of jealousy in her heart.

So that's why she's a little surprised when Harry makes an offer to actually hang out without Willow. They normally ignore each other or make small talk until Willow gets home from work or relieves them of their awkward conversation. They haven't really spent too much time together one-on-one in the five years Daisy's been in San Diego.

But she's not foolish enough to let this opportunity to waste — it'd be a lie if she said she wasn't just a little bit attracted to Harry. Besides, with the amount of people he hooked up with, she as undeniably curious about what he had to offer.

"Yeah, sounds groovy," Daisy replies, standing from the couch and stretching her achy limbs out. She swears she catches Harry's eyes linger a little too long on the swell of her breasts beneath her top, but quickly convinces herself otherwise as he digs in the fridge for another beer. She follows him into his bedroom, a space that Daisy could recall being in only twice before: Once, a few days into her initial stay here when she was high off a few bong hits and thought she was walking into Willow's room, only to be met with a strawberry blonde straddling Harry's lap, mid-makeout (she'd quickly stammered and shut the door closed before Harry's eyes could even flutter open), and another time, with Willow, when she was looking for her Elton John record.

Both times, Daisy hadn't taken much of his room into view, instead feeling equally awkward and uncomfortable that she was there without his actual invitation. So when Harry places the two beer cans on his nightstand and strides over to his record player to turn Rumours on, she peeks at the little details of his space — a myriad of Polaroid photographs, some of friends, some with friends, some of people she didn't recognize.  A stack of worn paperback books with swollen spines next to his bed, and Daisy feels her eyes widen when she notices Betty Friedan's The Feminine Mystique on top. She knew Harry was liberal and kind and all, but she never expected to find feminist theory literature in his room.

She's taking in the tacked up band posters covering the walls when the soundly crackle of vinyl fills the room. Harry turns with a cheeky smile on his lips as he places the record insert back in its sleeve, then nudges his chin in the direction of the sweaty, unopened cans of Miller.

"I heard they're supposed to play LA sometime this fall," Harry finally breaks the silence as Daisy hands him his can, the two of them cracking them open. She lifts hers to her lips and takes down greedy gulps, partially because of the heat but mainly because of Harry.

"Oh, right on," Daisy replies, shifting her stance from foot to foot. "I think I'm gonna try to hit that ABBA show next month in downtown SF."

Harry wrinkles his nose at her response as he sits on the edge of the bed, wordlessly encouraging Daisy to do the same. She does, albeit hesitantly, and with enough distance between them.

"That's a mighty drive for some disco," he teases, though there's a hint of seriousness to his commentary, "You going with someone decent?"

Daisy shrugs, "Willow was into it but she probably can't take off from work. I might ask that guy Warren I work with, he said he'd be down if he could get some good sales out of it."

Harry raises his eyebrows and quickly shakes his head between sips. "No way Jose, you're not making an eight hour drive to SF with a coke dealer."

Harry wasn't hugely into discos, but he was a frequent flyer when it came to tagging along with Willow and Daisy to ensure they were safe. As far as he knew, Daisy didn't dabble in coke all too much, even if it ran rampant in the nightclubs they attended.

"But if I don't go who knows when I'll be able to see them again—"

"I'll go with you," Harry blurts out before he can fathom the thought of a 16-hour drive, round trip, for a bubblegum group he doesn't even like. "Fuck Warren, he's good for nothing but drugs."

"Harry, you hate ABBA," Daisy rolls her eyes. "I'll be fine, really."

"Who says I hate ABBA?"

"You literally yell at us to turn it off every time we put Arrival on."

Harry shrugs his shoulders and leans back against the neat array of pillows, tucking his arms behind his head. "It's me or it's a no-go, disco queen."

She sighs and shakes her head before leaning back on her elbows, her palm pressed tightly against the condensation of the can. "Please, there's no way you would want to sit in a car with me for that long."

"Where'd you get that idea from?" Harry asks with furrowed eyebrows, pressing his lips into a thin line. Daisy's quiet for a moment, churning a reply in her head that doesn't offend him or make her sound dumb.

"You just... I'm your sister's friend, you know? I know you probably don't dig me too much, and that's fine, but you don't have to go out of your way for me just because I don't have anyone else to go with."

"What makes you think I don't dig you?" Harry pushes, making Daisy sigh.

"It's nothing, forget it," she mumbles, finishing off her beer, "Thanks for this, the album's righteous, I'll pick it up at my next shift."

Harry's scrambling to stop her as she walks out to the living room and shuffling her shoes on. Dreams sounds from his bedroom, the song he was most excited to show her, and it only drives his actions further, her words echoing and gnawing into his heart.

"Daisy, stop," he tries, grasping out to wrap his fingers around her wrist, "Stop— just, talk to me, will you? C'mon, I— I don't know where you got that from, I think you're really stellar, Dais."

Daisy looks up at him, momentarily glancing down to hand around her wrist before shifting her wide eyes back to his. "You don't have to be like this, I gotta head home anyway—"

"You don't," Harry shakes his head, stepping closer to her, invading her space as she backs against the front door. "You've been jiving here all day, you don't have to go home. Don't lie to me."

Daisy lets out a frustrated sigh at his pushy nature, but not before she's entirely too distracted by his musky scent and the way his palm is pushed against the wall, right next to her head, making his bicep flex just slightly. She watches as his tongue peeks out and he licks over his lips, waiting for her to break. If it had been anyone else in the world, she would've done everything she could to remove herself from the situation, go home, and soak in the bath while she beat herself up about being too awkward, not sociable enough.

But this is Harry. And Daisy can't, even if she desperately wants to, say no to him.

So she huffs and darts her eyes back to his bedroom, making an annoyed gesture with her hands that signaled what she really wanted to say: c'mon then, dipshit, let's go talk.

Harry's smirking as Daisy kicks her shoes back off, a triumphant puff to his chest. When they return, he closes the door just gently enough to where she wouldn't have noticed if she weren't hyper aware of his every action.

"Right, then," Harry says, sitting down across from Daisy on the bed, who now has her legs criss-cross-applesauce. He follows her lead and allows for her a decent distance between them. Daisy feels like she's having an awkward first kiss with someone via spin the bottle, but she quickly bats the thought of kissing Harry away. "Why don't you think I like you?"

"Because," Daisy sighs, reaching up to cover her warm face with her hands, "I'm just Willow's annoying friend, you know? Always in your way and at your place, drinking your beer and listening to your records."

"Where did you even get that idea?" Harry asks with furrowed brows, shaking his head. "I don't think you're annoying, and I don't care that you hang here, with or without Willow. You can drink all my fuckin' beer or listen to my records until they scratch."

Daisy blushes at that. He's never outwardly declared any type of fondness towards her, friendly or not.

"You just... always seem so peeved when you come out with us to the discos and stuff," Daisy admits, shrugging lightly, "I feel like you think you have to babysit me or something."

Harry chuckles with a shake of his head. "You're a trip, you know that?" His question is rhetorical, so she continues sitting there, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. "Yeah, I wanna make sure you guys are being safe and no, I don't love disco or boogieing down the way you lot do. But I'm never peeved about hanging with you, Dais. I'm sorry if I did something to make you feel that way, but I promise, you're more to me than Willow's friend."

Daisy's eyes finally meet his. Harry notices the faint blush that blossoms over her cheeks, and he can't help the way his lips turn upward in the smallest tick, his heart expanding ever so slightly at the sight.

"That's nice of you," she eventually mumbles out, blinking slowly. He chuckles quietly and shrugs, murmuring out, "yeah, I guess."

Side A of Rumours is long over now; the only noise sounding through the room is the repeated spin of the vinyl, over and over again. Daisy glances over to the record player, her bottom lip dropping open.

"You should— you should stop that," she says, "It'll scratch the record."

Harry smirks. He watches as she cowers slightly and he notes her nervous energy, the way her anxiety radiates off of her in small waves.

"Would you get me a new one if I did?" he asks, his voice dropping to a raspy tone.

Daisy looks back at Harry, her eyes somehow seeming even wider now. "Y-yeah. If you needed it, yeah."

"Yeah?" he teases, "You're good that way, aren't you?"

"H-Harry—" Daisy's lips fold over the syllables of his name, as if she's broken herself from the spell she was under. "I... you don't have to do this. I get it, you don't think I'm annoying but... don't just try to sleep with me 'cause you feel bad for me."

Harry lets out a frustrated sigh as he backs out of her space, pressing his lips into a thin line.

"Why do you think you're some kind of charity case?" he asks with a shake of his head. "I don't feel bad for you, Daisy, and I would never take advantage of you in that way."

"You're just— you're you! And I'm me! And it doesn't make sense that you'd want anything to do with me outside of Willow! You've never acted this way before—"

"Yeah, exactly!" Harry exclaims, cutting off the words falling from Daisy's mouth. "You're my little sister's best friend, and I don't want to fuck things up between you two by doing anything stupid. I've been staying away from you for years because it's easier to do that than hurt you or her or get hurt myself if things didn't work out!"

Daisy's jaw drops open at Harry's admission, her cheeks immediately warming. She wants to cover her blush with her hands, but she can't find it in her to move, let alone tear her gaze away from his. His Adam's apple bobs in his throat as he awaits a response, so when she's at a loss for words, he huffs in frustration and shakes his head, standing from the bed.

"Forget it— just forget I fuckin' said anything," he mutters, rounding the bed to open his bedroom door, his denim bell bottoms swishing with his steps. "Go home if you need to, stick around if you want— just pretend this never happened, alright?"

"I— Harry, stop," Daisy finally musters, shaking her head as she attempts to process, "I'm not... I don't want to forget what you just said. I'm just trying to understand it."

"What else is there to understand?" He bites.

"Am I... am I wrong in assuming that you like me? Is that what you're trying to say?"

Please don't be wrong, please don't be wrong, please don't be wrong—

"Yeah. That's what I'm saying, Daisy."

The world slows just a bit — not just for Daisy, but for Harry, too. He'd never really envisioned a time where he admitted to having feelings for his little sister's best friend, but it seemed that they'd brewed and simmered for so long that they had no choice but to boil over. Daisy was just as surprised, though. She'd spent the past few years assuming that he hated her and looked at her like a naïve nuisance always taking up space.

"Can you say something?" Harry finally grumbles, and Daisy isn't aware of how long it's been since he made his confession.

"I..." her eyebrows are furrowed, confusion apparent on her face as she looks up. "Why me?" This time, he returns the same expression.

"Are you serious?" Harry echoes, "You're... you're beautiful and smart and so sweet to everyone you meet. I've seen you trip-sit more kids in this apartment than I care to count, and you didn't even know 'em all. You have good taste in music, even if it includes ABBA... you're amazing to my sister, and every time we stop into the record store and you're just sitting there, reading your books... Dais, I swear to god, you look like a goddamn angel."

A furious blush flowers over Daisy's neck and face. She'd watched Harry hookup with a constant rotation of people, all of who she felt were more attractive than her. It felt unreal to hear that he thought she was pretty and kind.

"Can I— can I kiss you?" Daisy blurts, raising to her knees, the plushy bedding of Harry's mattress digging into her legs.

"Yes. Please, Dais, kiss me."

She nods and leans forward, slow and hesitant. Their lips brush against one another and Harry reaches up to carefully caress her cheek, gently pulling her closer until finally, they make contact.

It feels as though years of tension are being translated through their kiss. Harry's quick to meld his mouth against hers, moving his lips in a careful pace. She meets him halfway with similar touches; quiet smacks of their lips moving together. With a hand on his thigh, Harry's tongue enters Daisy's mouth and he's licking at her, more eagerly now that he's gotten a taste. Daisy parts from him momentarily, but only to move over his lap and straddle his legs, her heels pressed into her bum as she wraps her arms around his neck to pull him back in for another kiss.

She feels floaty and loses herself in the warm comfort of Harry's mouth, especially when his large hands find the backs of her thighs, sliding up to her ass. She swears she's never felt so good before, until the hardness of Harry's length makes itself known, poking at her core between layers of fabric. It's just enough to rip her out of her dreamy state, and she parts with a small gasp when he involuntarily bucks his hips up, searching for some sort of friction-filled release.

"Fuck— I'm sorry," Harry mutters out through spit-slicked lips. They're a muted cherry hue now, the same color they get when he's had a few too many glasses of red wine, or when he's saying goodbye to his one night stand in the hallway.

"It's okay," Daisy mumbles. She knows it's just human biology, that it's obviously natural for guys to get hard during heated makeout sessions. It's not like she's never felt a dick before, but it's also just that — she's never actually felt a dick before. "Um, I just— can we slow down?"

"Oh, yeah, of course. You just— I'm just like... really excited, I guess, and my body... knows that."

"It's fine, Harry," Daisy peeps out, smiling softly at the blush covering his cheeks, "But, uh... I've never... been with anyone before."

"What do you mean?"

She resists the urge to roll her eyes. She had hoped that he would've caught on, but clearly she was wrong.

"I've never been with anyone."

"But I've seen you makeout with people at the disco and shit."

"Yeah, but I've never taken them home."

It takes a moment for it to click, but when it does, Harry's eyes widen and his mouth forms around an oh. Daisy feels an all-encompassing embarrassment take up her entire form — she'd disclosed this information to people in the past, and they normally scampered off because the responsibility of taking her virginity was simply too much. She understood that, truly, but it got tiring after awhile. And, let's face it — this was Harry, and she really, really didn't want to feel stupid in front of him.

"I'm... I didn't know that."

Daisy shrugs, "It's not exactly like I go around parading it."

"Well, I would hope not."

This time, Daisy does roll her eyes, and Harry smirks as she gently pushes at his shoulder. The awkwardness melts just slightly and Daisy's body relaxes.

"We don't have to do anything if you don't want to— I get that it can be a big deal for some chicks," Harry says, moving his palm to gently squeeze her hip, "But I do really like you, Daisy. And this doesn't change that."

Her heart swells in her chest and warmth envelops her belly. He has a dopey, lovesick smile on his lips — the same one he gets when he, Daisy, and Willow share a joint at the end of a night out, she notices — and she knows her face looks just as silly, if not more so.

"I like you too," she murmurs, reaching out to run her fingertips along the length of his jaw. She traces over his slightly scruffy beard, which she knows is a day or two overgrown. She trails up to the mustache covering his upper lip, the one Willow always complains about and says makes him look like a homeless hippie, but Daisy secretly adores. She ends at his lips, gently pulling at his bottom one to form a puppy's pout. Playfully, he nips at her fingertip and she giggles.

She doesn't retract her finger and instead presses her thumb between his swollen lips. He allows her to it, readily and openly, the digit laying flat against his tongue before he wraps his lips around it, sucking down softly.

"Oh," she breathes, feeling his tongue lazily swirl around her thickest finger. Daisy's core flutters at the image; the way his cheeks are hallowed out ever so slightly, a perfect picture of submission beneath her.

"We don't have to do anything if you don't want to," Harry whispers. She doesn't know how long she's been in his bed on top of his lap, but she assumes it's been awhile with the way golden hour is soaking every inch of his bedroom. She's slow in her movements, with the way she removes her finger from his mouth and, instead of climbing off like he'd expected her to, trails her hand below her crocheted top, brushing her spit-covered thumb over her nipple.

"Oh, fuck."

Daisy's head lulls to the side as she plays with herself, her nipple slowly hardening between her fingertips. Harry can barely see anything through the white crocheted vest, just peaks of flesh and the warm-toned hues of her nipples, and his jaw has still managed to go slack as he watches her with parted lips. She's a real life wet dream, he's sure of it.

"Dais..." Harry sighs as she lifts her hand to her mouth, wetting her fingers only to travel back down to give her other nipple the same treatment, "Lemme see? Please, baby, I'm desperate."

Daisy hums at his admission. It's hard to ignore the electricity that zips through her belly at the word baby, but she tries to keep her cool, even if she has no idea what she's doing. Slowly, she lifts her arms and ditches her torso of the netted material, allowing the breeze coming from the fan to only harden her nipples even further.

"Can I touch?" He asks, his eyes flickering up to hers for consent, "You can dictate the pace, lemme know what you're comfortable with but— 'm gonna die if I can't touch your pretty tits, Dais."

Daisy nods, her words stuck in her throat from Harry's boldness. He's quick to duck beneath her form as a surprised yelp tumbles from her lips, but it's quickly replaced with a whimper as he attaches his mouth to her nipple. He's sucking and licking, going back and forth between each one, his large hands gripping harshly at her hips. She's struggling to keep still but it's especially difficult when he nips at the sensitive buds, his teeth supplying the most delicious and quick licks of pain.

"Harry, I—"

His head snaps at up the second his name leaves her throat, immediately removing his lulling tongue from the patches of skin he'd been obsessing over.

"What's wrong?" Harry asks, panicked. She shakes her head and breathes out tensely as she pathetically tries to roll her hips against his; an attempt to showcase her communication better, but he's reluctant in accepting it.

"Words, bub," he instructs, reaching up to cradle her jaw in his palm, "Are you okay?"

"Good," Daisy bobs her head, "Feels good. I— more, please?"

Her words are a jumbled mess as they float from her brain to her mouth. She knows she must sound borderline high but Harry doesn't tease, instead sliding his hand down to the waistband of her denim shorts, his palm flush against her tummy.

"What do you want?"

She swallows. She's hooked up with people before, gotten fingered and given a few blowies, but she's never been asked to verbalize her needs. It makes her flush with embarrassment as her jaw opens and closes dumbly, unsure of what she's even requesting of Harry.

"I don't know," she finally breathes, hitching her bottom lip between her teeth. "I'm sorry. No one's ever asked me what I want before, I don't have as much experience as you—"

"Shush," Harry's quick to shut her up with a shake of his head. "I don't want you to feel bad about that. I just want to make sure I'm not pushing you too far. You get to decide, this is your body."

Daisy leans into Harry's grasp, pressing her cheek against his hand.

"Here, why don't you tell me where I can touch you?" he suggests, moving his other palm back up to her breasts, "Are you still alright here?"

She nods, gasping as he pinches her nipple between his fingers. His hands travel down to the swell of her ass, cupping her cheeks firmly.

"And what about here?"

"Mhm." her eyes flutter when he squeezes, a moan bubbling in her throat.

He keeps one hand on her bum as he uses the other to trail featherlight touches along the inside of her thigh, up to her core. She can feel her hole squeezing around nothing, a steady thumping buzzing through her clit, and she whimpers when he cups her pussy through her shorts.

"Is this okay, baby?"

Daisy nods, her breath quickening at the sensation. "You— you can take them off," she says in a moment of courage, "Want you to touch me there."

"Ah," Harry smirks as he unbuttons the denim, dragging the zipper down. "You want me to touch your little pussy, is that it?"

She whines as he budges her up just far enough to shimmy the material down her legs. She's not wearing the sexiest of underwear — just a plain cotton pair in a light blue — but Harry still licks his lips at the sight of the damp patch flowering over her hole, where he's desperate to feel.

"Has anyone ever touched you down here?"

"Yes," she mumbles, bucking her hips against his hand. His thumb is drawing light circles into her clit, not enough to satiate her need for him, instead providing a semblance of sensation.

"Do you ever do it?" he questions, moving his finger down to her hole. She's clenching with need as he gently pushes a finger in through the fabric. He's not fingering her, not even close; just making her whimper with need at the thought of what she could have if she answers him.

"Sometimes, yes," Daisy nods.

"What do you do?"

"I, um," she licks over her swollen lips, attempting to focus on his question as he dips in again. "I rub my clit... sometimes I put a finger in."

"Is that all it takes to make you cum?" his tone is teasing now, making her feel embarrassed.

"Usually."

"Usually?" he raises a brow, "What else do you do to make this pretty pussy cum?"

Daisy swallows loudly. "Sometimes... if I'm really turned on, I'll touch myself... lower."

"Lower?" Harry repeats, unsure if he's understanding her correctly. "Like...?"

"Yeah."

A devilish smirks takes over his face as he moves one of his hands to cup her ass again, this time squeezing even tighter.

"Is that why you moan so loud when I grab you here?"

She nods, ducking her head back in pleasure. Just the feeling of being slightly stimulated in both places is nearly enough to get here there, not to mention it's Harry doing the touching.

"And who taught you that?" he asks as he pushes the material of her underwear down her thighs.

"Um, a guy I hooked up with once," Daisy murmurs, sitting up slightly. She's naked now, still on top of him, while he remains in his work clothes from earlier today. Her pussy is bare to his wandering eye and he can't help the way he takes in her most intimate parts.

"And you liked it when he toyed with your cute bum?" Harry continues his relentless teasing much to Daisy's dismay, who is all but squirming with need. He relieves some of the consuming pressure in her stomach by taking his fingers between her pussy lips, spreading them to expose her clit. He lightly runs his fingertip over the sensitive nub and she shivers, nodding her head.

"He just... licked me there while he was going down on me," Daisy explains with fluttered eyes, "And the next time I played with myself I put a finger in... made me feel dirty but so good."

"Jesus, you really are a dirty little girl, hm?"

Apparently, Harry feels that she's answered enough of his questions and deserves a reward. She lets out a hearty moan when he applies more pressure to her clit, starting in tight, small circles. She's glistening for him and making a mess between her thighs, making Harry's mouth water just at the sight.

"You're a drippy mess," he mutters as he squeezes her bum. He lowers his hand downward to where she's aching the most, circling twice and dipping in to spread her wetness around. He uses his other hand to continue rubbing at her pearly clit as he pushes his finger in, his jaw dropping at the sight of Daisy arching her back and whimpering on top of him. "Fuckin' gorgeous girl."

Harry starts off at a tantalizing pace but when he sees how responsive she is to every little touch — well, he's only human, and he can't help but want to get her to her breaking point as quickly as possible. He's not sure if anyone she's hooked up with has ever cared to make her cum before, but with the way she's grinding down against his hand and palming at her own breasts, he thinks anyone that had a chance to see her like this and didn't is an absolute fool.

"Are you gonna cum for me, sweetheart?" Harry asks. He can feel her tightening around the finger that's currently deep inside of her, poking and prodding at that special spot with each thrust. She's so wet that he's positive there's a wet spot on his work pants but he couldn't care less.

"Y-yes," Daisy nods helplessly, bouncing up and down as he pushes a second finger into her opening. It's a slight stretch, but nothing she can't take, that much is clear.

"Such a good girl, Daisy," he mutters mainly to himself, "Can't believe I went this long without feeling you squeeze my fingers like this... be my good girl and cum for me, baby, let me see you."

The squelching sound of his fingers rapidly moving against her are a telltale sign that she's at her end, but it's the slight gush around his hand and her throaty moans that stick with him. He watches in awe as she squirts on his fingers, helping her through her orgasm, her muscles contracting quickly.

"Fuck," Harry utters, "You're absolutely filthy. Been hiding this from me for years, hm?"

Daisy's eyes have long since fluttered closed as she comes down from her peak, so Harry does the only thing he can think of. Gently removing his fingers from her, he hooks an arm around her to keep her steady before lifting his hand to his mouth and finally having a taste of her arousal.

"Harry," Daisy breathes when she sees him, her eyes slightly widened at the visual beneath her.

"You taste incredible, Dais."

Without thinking, she leans forward and messily melds their lips together, her tongue prodding into his mouth. He welcomes it and groans at her eagerness. They part a minute or so later, both with spit swollen lips.

"I think I'm addicted to you, Daisy Walker."

Part two | Part three | Series masterlist

#Harry styles #Harry #Harry styles one shot #70s!harry #my writing #Harry styles smut #Harry styles imagine #Harry styles fic #Harry styles fanfic #one direction #harry styles blurb #Harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fic #Harry’s house #fluff #smut #fanfic #fanfiction #idk #enjoy!

[oh-koenig-my-koenig]

breaking me (not literally)

(cw: age gap 25/41; nsfw, pure smut, MDNI; biting/marking, dacryphilia(ish), d/s-dynamics, sex toys, butt stuff, restrained and gagged, overstimulation)

continuing the part before: wearing glasses

Hanging off König’s shoulder I have a déjà vu, from the first time he carried me to his bedroom last week. Not much has changed since then, but at the same time…

I get torn from my thoughts when he lifts me up, his big strong hands around my waist, and just sets me down on the bed, my front against the mattress. He pulls down my pants and I wiggle my legs to help him with it, eager to get my clothes off.

His fingers are grabbing my ass cheeks as soon as they're free, squeezing and kneading. He leans down while I shimmy back, propping my butt up, and he nuzzles his face against my clothed pussy. His nose is pressed into the damp fabric, his tongue lapping at the black cotton, drenching it even more. He pulls back a bit and I can feel his teeth sink into the supple flesh of my butt, for just a moment, leaving a little mark.

"I have to say, having your ass in my face like that is almost as good as having you sit on me.", he says. He flips me around, so I'm on my back. "But I also like to see your face because it's so pretty when I eat you out." He grins at me, the sexy smirk almost turning a bit sinister. "Especially if your make-up is running down your cheeks like today."

Right. I look up into the mirror on his ceiling. My fucking make-up. I don't wear much, but I feel naked if I leave my house without eyeliner. Eyeliner that is now adorning my cheeks. I already look kind of fucked out, just from sucking his dick.

He climbs onto the mattress, kneeling beside me, and I sit up. Wanting to kiss him again and finally get naked, but he stops me when he starts with: "Before we do anything, I also wanted to talk about something.”

“Yes?”

“When I brought some of your stuff up, I dropped the box and half of it fell on the floor.”, he explains, huffing. He nods in the direction where the box is now standing, on his dresser.

My brows furrow, wondering why he thought this was something to bring up.

“I swear, I wasn't snooping or anything, but I picked the stuff up and saw what you packed.”, he adds, lifting his hands in defense.

My face lights up when I catch his drift. “Oh, you mean the toys!” I packed a small bag with my most trusted stuff into the box with my clothes when I got everything together this morning. On a whim really, even though just thinking about using this stuff with him makes me all hot and bothered. I must have left the zipper open when I put it in.

"Yes, the toys.", he confirms. "I know they're your stuff, but I was wonderi-"

"I didn't pack them to use alone under the shower.", I interrupt him with a straight face, but a little grin fights its way through.

"So, you wouldn't mind if we used them together?", he wants to know, making sure again.

"Quite the contrary.", I say, smiling at him.

He hums, the deep satisfied sound I heard a lot from him by now, and he bends forward to kiss me. But only quickly.

"Now that we got that out of the way... Do you have a safeword? Or some word that will work as one.", he says. His eyes search mine like it’s already written in them.

"I do.", I answer. "Spring rolls." My favourite food. I half-expect him to make a comment, a joke, anything, but he just nods, all serious.

"And what if you can't talk?", he asks.

"I- That was never really an issue before.", I say, a little bit unsure now.

"Can I show you? Non-verbal ones?", he suggests.

I nod in return.

"Either pinch me or snap your fingers. That one you can even do cuffed." He demonstrates the two simple gestures, softly pinching my thigh and repeating the snaps a few times. Easy enough.

But something else got my attention. "Cuffed?", I echo. My interest is instantly piqued, and he can see that on my face.

"Yeah." He grins at me. "Restrained, tied to the bed, you know."

"I would like that.", I blurt out, a light blush creeping onto my cheeks.

His eyebrows are shooting up, he’s straightening up, rolling his shoulders back, the grin getting brighter. "Good to know.", he comments, taking my hand in his. “If you’re tied up, we can also communicate like this.” He squeezes my fingers with his. “Once means green, go ahead, twice means yellow, slow down, and three times red, stop.” I imitate the presses, feeling his strong thick digits.

He lifts our entwined hands to his mouth. “Understood?”, he asks, holding my gaze, while he softly places kisses on the back of mine.

“Yes, Sir.”, I say, earnest, but with an edge. The ‘Sir’ drawn out, the corner of my mouth turning up into a smirk.

His eyes light up like matches set ablaze as he pulls me into him and I lean forward, getting up on my knees to kiss him. He answers, slow and sweet at first, until it gets more heated and sloppier. He breaks away to pull my shirt over my head, also getting rid of my bra, his thumb and pointer snapping the clasp open, fiddling with the hooks for a moment.

He's slowly lying me down on the bed, his mouth tracing a hot trail down to my breasts to toy with them. Licking, teasing. Biting them softly, his canines leaving little marks. His hand is holding mine again, his fingers intertwined with mine, stretching me across the mattress, splaying me out before him.

I'm so distracted by his touches that I don't even realise what he is doing, until he fixes a leather cuff around my left wrist. And then the other side as well.

A pang of excitement hits me, spreading through my body, soft tingles erupting all over my skin. God damn, he'll tie me up. Like we just said.

He gets up from the mattress, revealing straps that are tied to the bedposts that I didn't see before, clasping the cuffs to them and fastening them.

"Can you still do the snapping?", he asks, when my wrists get pulled up and to the side.

I demonstrate it with a quick snap of my fingers.

"Yes, good. And don't hesitate to you use the safewords, if you feel like you need to, and I will stop in an instant.", he reiterates again.

I nod. "I will." He trusts me to tell him if he takes it too far, and I trust him to respect my limits, otherwise stuff like this won't work.

He gives me another kiss and moves down to my ankles, getting rid of my panties as well, but not tossing them aside, before he gets two more cuffs and spreads my legs to tie them to the lower bed posts.

"I see now why you have a bed like this.", I quip while I can see myself splayed out on the mattress in the mirror above.

"I don't know what you mean.", he says, feigning innocence, as he gets one of the plush pillows to place under my lower back, propping me up a bit.

"Yeah, yeah.", I shoot back. My limbs are spread, my pussy exposed, but he just doesn't dive in like I want him to, desperate to finally feel his mouth on me.

When he's done, he gets up from the bed and gets rid of his clothes, shedding the shirt and his jeans. And I can see his dick, hanging between his legs, long and thick, getting hard again, after he just came in my mouth a few minutes ago, downstairs on the couch. The piercing at his tip glinting as his length bops with his steps, and I wanna taste him again.

He stalks over to the box, the box with my things again, not before shooting me another proving look. Taking something out that I can't see because his big hands close around it. All the while I'm tied up here, waiting, needy and impatient, and he is taking his fucking time.

"You done, big guy?", I ask while he is getting something from his nightstand. A bottle of lube.

"Patience, brat." Oh, the look is giving me. "You were being so good, sucking me off, and now all I hear are complaints and bratty comments?", he grumbles, but I can see the mischievous grin behind it. A little hint that he's not really cross with me, just leaning into our little games.

"Well, you know, I'm more well behaved when I'm satisfied, but somebody broke the bed this morning instead of makin-", I start again.

"That's it, no more talking for you.", he states, grabs my panties and stuffs them into my mouth. Pushing the fabric inside with his fingers until I can't talk anymore.

He pulls back, a smirk fighting through the serious expression. "Better.", he says, looking down at me.

My mouth is stuffed full, but he doesn't fasten it any further, so I could still spit it out easily, if I wasn't okay with it. I can see what he's doing, testing the waters.

He places himself between my legs, strewn over the end of the bed and still reaching me just fine. He presses kisses to my thighs, starting down at the knees. Taking his sweet, sweet time. Kissing up and down the one side, while his hand is slowly stroking up the other one.

When his fingertips finally coast over my pussy, I almost come, that's how wound up I am. I pull on the restraint, my mewls getting damped by the fabric in my mouth.

"So fucking needy for my touch.", he drawls, repeating the motion again before sinking one finger inside me. Oh, he likes to tease me like that, and right now I can't help, but just take it. My hips rut back and forth, with the way my legs are spread and the pillow is placed under my lower back, I can’t move into his hand, searching for more contact.

He’s moving the digit oh so slowly, my wetness spreading on it, as he slowly fucks me with it.

König bites me again. Sinking his teeth into the soft skin of my thigh. Leaving kisses and hickeys on my thighs, replacing the marks he left there before.

I come, unforeseen, when he pushes another finger in, curling them against the sensitive spot inside me. My hips buck up as I pull on my restraints. He doesn't stop, his fingers moving faster now, and my eyes roll back while my panties are drowning out my groans and screams.

I look down again, after the bigger waves have subsided. The corners of his mouth are turned up into a smirky smile, his eyes are on me, watching, how his fingers are still working themselves in and out of me. His gaze pans up, flitting over my whole naked body, thighs, hips and tummy, stopping for a moment at my tits that are moving up and down with my labored breaths, the peaks hard and sensitive. Up to my face that's adorned with streaks of run down make-up, my undies stuffed into my mouth.

"You're so fucking beautiful.", he almost purrs, his voice deep and laced with pure want. The little praise is shaking me, and my eyelids squeeze shut for just a moment. I will them to stay open, looking at him. Seeing what he'll do.

He pulls his fingers out and lifts them to his mouth, licking my juices off them. Just two quick licks, his tongue darting between them. And I whine. I just want his mouth on me. I would plead for it if I could.

But he doesn't even think about it, taking his other hand and spreading some of the wetness lower, until his fingertips are massaging my other hole. Slow deliberate circles, not dipping inside me before he takes some of the lube he got. Then he presses his pointer inside me, the digit sliding in easily with all the slick.

He is slowly coaxing me to take another finger while the thumb of his other hand is rubbing my clit. When he pushes deeper, his fingers stretching me, a zap of pleasure rips through me.

He pulls them out, leaving me empty, when he suddenly has a buttplug in his hand, my buttplug, the one I packed. Showing me the little thing, before I can feel it pushing against the puckered hole. The cool metal, the cold sensation and the feeling of fullness sending a violent shiver through me as it fully slips into me.

His fingers that were still rubbing over my clit drop lower again, roughly pushing into my pussy which swallows them up easily with how wet I am.

"So pretty with all your holes stuffed.", he whispers, his gaze panning up from between my legs and dropping back again. He pushes his hair out of his face, the long strands falling back over his broad shoulders now, before he leans down and finally puts his lips on my pussy.

His mouth sucks on my clit, and it's just too much. Tears are streaming down my cheeks, clouding my view, as his tongue presses on the sensitive nub, his fingers move inside my wetness and his thumb pushes on the flared base of the buttplug, and I come again.

He pulls back, his fingers slipping out my pussy, and I slump down into the mattress. He crawls over me, his face appearing in front of mine, his hair falling down over me, the tips of the long strands brushing over my sides, my tits. Smirking down at me, stroking over my cheek with his thumb, catching a stray tear that’s sitting there, before the hand scoots further up to the restraint. He squeezes mine, and I squeeze back, just once, to signal him that everything is okay. A go-ahead, not wanting him to stop at all and thinking he’ll finally fuck me.

He presses his lips to my cheek, but he just scoots down again, leaving a trail of kisses down my body, the soft touches sending shivers over me, the smallest stimulation making me gasp for air. My mouth is still gagged with my panties, my breaths shallow.

It's not over, something that becomes clear, when I see my vibe in his hand. Oh fuck, he is pulling out all the stops.

"Come on, you can give me another one.", he drawls, and I don't think the sounds coming out of my mouth would have made any sense, even if I wasn't gagged like that.

Still, I don't think about using the snaps a little bit, just losing myself in the pleasure. The sweet, sweet torture of being made to come over and over again. My thighs are shaking, and it gets only worse, when he places the buzzing head against my clit.

He's watching me, taking in every little bit, my writhing body pulling against the restraints around my wrists and ankles, my hips moving of their own volition. My back is arching and my head falls back.

“Schau mich an.”, he says, his voice alone getting my attention, though I don’t understand the words, my chin dropping to my chest. “Yeah, look at me, just like that, Liebes.”

His look is on me, finding my eyes that inevitably turn up again from the intense stimulation, but I try to hold his gaze. Also seeing the vibe in his hand, the device so small in his fingers as he presses it against my pussy, the familiar vibrations stoking my arousal again.

He doesn’t let up until I’m cumming again, the buzz of the vibe intermingling with my muffled moans and the strain of the leather cuffs. When the vibe shuts off, I relax into the sheets, still not taking my eyes off him.

“Good girl.”, he whispers, deep and soft, his usually furrowed brows turned-up, relaxed.

He’s taking everything away, pulling the plug out and putting the vibe to the side. I’m bare, writhing, overstimulated. Wetness is dripping out of me, covering the pillow beneath my hips.

His head dips between my legs, licking it all up, taking his sweet time eating me out. The sensations of his tongue and mouth and lips are so much more intense, the scruff of his beard against the sensitive skin almost makes me lose my mind.

By the time he gets a condom, my mind is hazy and filled with clouds and my pussy is overstimulated to high heavens.

He grins at me while he rolls the rubber down his length. "No pesky brat teasing me while I put on the condom.", he says. "Maybe I should tie you up more often."

My only answer is a whimper. He drops onto the mattress, crawling over me again. Pulling my panties out of my mouth, the fabric soaked with my spit. He lets me breathe for a moment, his thumb softly caressing my cheek as his hair falls into my face before he leans down to kiss me.

"You okay?", he asks softly.

"Mmmh, yes.", I mumble against his lips. "I'll never complain about not coming again, though.", I add, sighing.

He laughs a little. "Good.", he hums.

His dick slides into me, easily with how wet and relaxed I am. I groan, feeling so full, my pussy now clenching around his thickness. It's feeling sensitive, overstimulated and sore, but still so good. Little bits of pain that only make the pleasure so much higher. Intense, even more intense than usual. The stretch has my walls fluttering around him.

He starts to roll his hips into me and slowly gets rid of all the restraints on my wrists until it's just us two fucking again.

His hands are grabbing me, positioning my hips just how he likes it, my lower back still propped up on the cushion. His hair falling forward like a curtain. His dick moving inside me, deeper than his fingers were before, the girth filling me up.

He's going slower than usual, dragging himself out and in, his head turning up and his eyes rolling back when I squeeze down on his dick. My hands hold onto his arms that are propped beside me, my nails digging into his biceps.

And I can't believe I'm gonna cum again. The ones on his fingers and tongue, with the vibe, were different than this one. Starting so much deeper, wrecking through me, when he bottoms me out.

My eyes turn up, my mouth contorted into an O-shape, but the sounds are barely audible mewls. He leans down again, his hand tangling in my hair as he presses soft kisses to side of my face while I convulse around his dick. His moans and grunts spilling from his lips right next to my ear. My arms are reaching around his waist, my fingernails digging into the muscles on his back, adorned by black ink.

Finding my lips and kissing me, while he’s still thrusting into me, fucking me through the orgasm.

“I'm so close.”, he says quietly, his voice hoarse and deep.

“Please, I want you to come all over me.”, I whisper into the kiss. Simply saying it, telling him what I want, like he told me to yesterday.

He groans, pulling out of me in an instant, and I’m already propping myself up on my elbows, when he removes the condom. He sits back on his knees and pumps his hand a few times, then he cums all over me, moaning deeply, as the creamy liquid coats my tummy, boobs, some drops even hitting my face.

Thick ropes of cum are adorning my body as I smile up at him, sitting up onto my knees. I lean forward, licking the last of it from the tip of his dick, which makes him shake a bit because it's sensitive.

He pulls back and bows down, his hand grabbing my neck softly to pull me in before pressing his lips to mine. I hum into the kiss, feeling the little possessive gesture. When he pulls back, all I can do is sigh and look up him.

"Shower and food?", he suggests smiling down at me.

"Yes please." I get up from the mattress, but when the soles of my feet hit the floor and I try to stand on them, my knees buckle a bit. I stumble forward into him and his arm catches me, while I hold onto it.

"Whoops.", I exclaim, steadying myself.

“Everything okay?”, he asks, a hint of worry on his face, his other hand caressing my cheek.

“Yeah, just wobbly legs.”, I tell him, getting on my tiptoes to give him a kiss. “Somebody made up for breaking the bed and really did a number on me.”, I tell him.

“Yeah, he did?”, he asks, dropping another kiss onto my lips.

“Mhm.”, I mumble.

I wobble into the bathroom, my legs shaking a little bit, while he is putting new sheets onto the mattress. I make my way to the shower and catch a glimpse of myself. Black streaks down my cheeks, my makeup completely gone.

My tits and stomach wet and shiny from his cum against the soft skin. The grin on my face. The stupidly bright grin on my fucked-out face.

König passes me, his butt naked frame between me and the mirror, his broad hairy chest right in front of me. “Come on, sweetcheeks.”, he says, patting my butt. “Gotta get you cleaned up.” And pulling me with him into the shower.

After we've showered, we order something to eat, sitting back on the couch right where we started.

His glasses are placed on his nose again, the nose that has been broken at least twice. Our hair is still wet from the shower, I can feel the damp strands of his long hair against the back of my hand as I’m scratching his back, stroking over his bare shoulders.

He’s just in some shorts and me in a simple t-shirt, some Chelsea Grin merch. Together we're wearing one whole outfit.

I sit on his lap, both of us looking at the screen of his phone, the device so small in his hands, picking out what to eat. He is just adding everything that sounds good. So, basically everything.

This day started with him breaking my bed and now I'm staying at his place and chilling with him on the couch after he fucked my brains out. Once again.

Exclusively dating him now, even though he has to leave at some point to go on his next mission. Something that stirs a little in my stomach. But it is what it is.

I look at him, my eyes taking in the serious expression on his face while he adds another portion of spring rolls to the cart because I like them so much. The corner of his mouth turns up into a little smile while his eyes behind the glasses are still fixed on the phone screen. My fingers push back one strand of his long hair hanging into his face, the tips brushing over the stubble on his jaw, before I press a kiss onto his cheek.

You know what? I still wouldn't have it any other way.

How did the two cuties end up here? Check out the next chapter: lazy evenings or the full story in the Masterlist ~

#metalhead!könig #she likes the dark #könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig mw2 #könig fanfiction #cod mw2 smut #könig smut #konig smut #cod smut #könig x reader #tw: age gap

[wosoobsessed]

“Your sick baby”- Leah Williamson x Female reader

Request:

Would you do a Leah x Reader fic where Leah is sick. She refuses to admit in the morning because she’s stubborn but it becomes noticeable during training especially when she throws up. Reader and Leah go home and reader just takes care of her and makes sure she feels alright.

A/N: hope you enjoy I love this one 🫶🏻🫶🏻

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You woke up to the sound of your girlfriend getting dressed in the corner of the room. Your eyes fluttered open, expecting to see your girlfriend in her her normal lively self but instead was met with Leah struggling to pull her jersey over her head. It had been a hard year for your girlfriend with her acl injury last year, you had been there for her no matter what through the anger, tears and denial. All you wanted for her was to be happy. As you looked at her you could see the pain on her face as you sat up against the headboard of your bed it broke your heart to see. Indulged in your own thoughts you missed when Leah crouched down on the floor with her head in her hands.

“ lee what’s wrong” you said concern clear in your voice. “Nothing nothing!” She said almost too quickly to be believable, standing back up and continued to get dressed.You assessed every part of her as you stood up and looked into her eyes. “ lee… if your sick you need to rest” you said cautiously not wanting to anger or upset her. She immediately looked at you like a deer in the headlights the defensiveness coming back to her.

“ Y/N I’m fine” she lied imediently. Your concern deepened and Leah noticed this and immediately her eyes softened as she looked at you. “ baby seriously I’m gonna be fine I’ve got to go” she says before breaking into a coughing fit. You look at her unconvinced but you know how much training means to her so you give in. “ fine but I’m driving you there and back” you say swiftly making your way over to your wardrobe,throwing on jeans and a top, trainers and your puffer jacket before grabbing your car keys and following Leah into your car before making your way to the training park.

You could tell something was wrong. Her pale white face and the way she stumbled as she ran after the ball. She was not well. You sat in the stands watching the session as Kim little looked Up at you with an equally concerned look, you simply just sent her a thumbs down to show that you were also concerned about Leah.

After the session you walked down to the pitch to meet your girlfriend who looked even worse then she did before you left the house. She looked at you with guilt on her face she knew she should of stayed home. You wanted to be your stubborn self and say I told you so but the pain in your girlfriends face broke your heart. You immediately grabbed Leah and her bags and rushed into the car just wanting to get her home. During the car ride home you looked over to Leah as she suddenly gags in her mouth her face now as white as a ghost. You have never drove so fast probably breaking multiple laws but for one you did not want sick in your car and two you wanted Leah to be at home comfortably. As soon as you reached the driveway of your house, Leah rushed through the door immediately taking a b -line for the bathroom, you walked in behind her closing the door and dropping your bag on the floor as you rushed into the bathroom as Leah emptied her stomach into the toilet. You rubbed her back and she continued to throw up, when she had finished she sat up against the bathroom wall and you immediately sat I don’t of her. “ you okay baby” you cooed as she wiped her mouth with a piece of tissue. “ i feel better now” she said quietly. You helped Leah up the stairs into bed and then went to grab her a glass of water, as you walked back into the bedroom placing a bowl and a glass of water on Leah’s bedside table. “ thank you baby” she said croakily “you welcome hunny” you responded softly “ I’m just gonna go unpack your training bag” you said, Leah immediately protested “ no come get in bed y/n/n” she said trying out shout but failing as her voice broke. “ bub I’ll be two seconds you won’t even know-“ she cut you off with the sound of her groaning. “ please baby just come here” she said desperately. she looked like she was on the verge of tears and this made you crumble you gave in and climbed into bed next to her. It was gonna be a long couple of days and you were probably gonna catch all of the germs that she was carrying but you didn’t care your girl needed you and you was gonna be there.

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A/N: I’m so sorry this is kind of shit but This has been in my drafts for a long time 😭😭😭😭😭

I’m taking requests but it depends on what the request is. ❤️

#leah williamson #lionesses #woso community #leah williamson x reader

[skzdarlings]

08. sharing a bed series ; skz ; i.n.

masterlist.

sharing a bed series part 8/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN. -

pairing: yang jeongin/reader content info: sexual content. enemies2lovers(&friends2lovers?), sharing a bed trope. reader is older than him but exact age difference is not mentioned. reader was previously married and the ex-husband is described as bad to her, though there are no detailed specifications of exactly what went on. reader going thru some growth, being rude to jeongin, resolving it. the sex is playfully rough, reader mentions "mafia" style romance novels for inspo lmao but it stays pretty tame considering that.

last chapter of the series :)

-

Of course it’s raining.  On top of everything else that went wrong, of course a torrential downpour would hit your party.   

There is a large expanse of wood on the vast acreage behind your house.   To break some of the social tension, someone suggested playing hide and seek in the woods on the property.   It wasn’t part of your plan but seeing as the party’s awkward tension was your fault, you agreed that an outside game sounded like fun.  With the springtime sun beaming down on you and your friends, it seemed like a fine afternoon diversion. 

You were already deep into the woods when the storm started.  You strayed farther from the main path, confident in your familiarity with the terrain.  It did you little good when the weather took a turn.  The rain was not slow-coming but an immediate sheet slamming into the ground like blocks of solid concrete.  You could barely see in front of you and the uneven earth quickly turned to a muddy sludge.  Unsurprisingly, you slipped and twisted your ankle.

Now you are stranded, alone in the forest and far away from everyone else, shivering in the pouring rain as your wispy white dress was not designed for such fickle weather. 

You seldom let your emotions get the better of you but today you let yourself cry.  The tears come as rapidly as the rain, leaving you gasping and shuddering.  You stumble towards a tree and slouch against it, trying to take the weight off your hurt ankle.   You doubt anyone would hear you screaming over the storm and from this far away, and you don’t have a phone because this stupid dress doesn’t have pockets so you left it behind. 

You are crying against the tree when rescue comes in the form of the last person you want to see. 

You lift your head to Jeongin.  He is also drenched but the thick denim of his overalls covers most of his body and his heavy-duty sneakers are marginally better than your flats.  His glasses are streaked with raindrops and his black hair is a mop on his head.   Still, he sees through the foggy glass and the messy bangs, his expression one of surprise and concern. 

“Are you hurt?” he asks without hesitation, because of course he does.  Jeongin is a good person.   You have never met anyone as genuinely sweet as him.  The guy is all dimple, his eyes constantly scrunched up with glee, always ready with a humorous comment and a steady hand on a friend’s shoulder. 

He also has every reason in the world to hate you.  You have done everything in your power to push him away, treating him like an enemy, no doubt convincing him of it.  

He never stooped to your level.  You are older by a few good years but you have undoubtedly been the immature one.  You wouldn’t blame him for abandoning you now.    

He doesn’t do that.   He rushes toward you, leading with his hand outstretched. 

“Where does it hurt?” he asks loudly over the rain. 

The emotional parts of you are especially vulnerable right now.  When he asks that, you stupidly want to gesture to your heart.  Ridiculous and sentimental, you know, you know, but true regardless. 

You point to your ankle and he dutifully looks down.

His bangs split unevenly when his long, ringed fingers push through his hair.  He shakes his head like it will clear his vision. 

“Okay,” he says.  He opens his arms.  “Come on.”

You hesitate.  You have no reason to distrust him but he should distrust you.  He should hate you.  You want him to hate you.  You know what to do when someone hates you.  You know what to do when someone treats you badly.  You do not know what to do with Jeongin, someone so sincerely himself, sincerely kind, sincerely good.   He looks at you with nothing but concern, his arms open with a desire to help. 

You suck in another unsteady breath. 

“Come on,” he says again, a little more forcefully but not unkindly.  He seems more perplexed than angry. 

You make a slight motion towards him, still hesitant.  He accepts it as an invitation and crosses that last step to swing his arms around you.  Your hands find his shoulders as his arm slides under your legs.  He hoists you into a bridal hold, so secure that you choke on more tears. 

You want to apologize.  You want to say so many things.  You just hide your face as he carries you away from the tree.

There is a moment of shared panic when he stumbles in the mud, but he finds his footing again.   He stops for a second under some thicker foliage, looking around, out of breath. 

Your tears have subsided.  With the pain alleviated from your ankle, your senses are slowly returning to you.  You recognize where you are in the woods: far from the main path and even farther from home, but close to the old hunting lodge.  You don’t hunt but your ex-husband did.  When you took over the property after the divorce, you turned the little lodge into a cozy getaway.  You haven’t visited in a while but it will provide a roof over your head until the rain subsides.    

“Turn up past those bushes there,” you say, pointing ahead.  “We can get out of the rain until the storm passes.” 

You can’t raise your voice too loud, still blocked by residual tears, but you are close to his face.  He hears you and does as told. 

You crest a small hill and the single-room cabin comes into view.   You swear it has never looked so warm and cozy. 

He puts you on your feet once you are under the awning.  Only when you are at the door do you remember you don’t have any keys on you. 

“Fuck,” you say, welling up with exasperation.  You slouch against the doorframe.  “I don’t have the key.  What was I thinking?”

Jeongin takes off his glasses and wipes his forehead.  He blinks at the door.

“Um.”  He looks at you sheepishly, raking his fingers through his messy hair again.  “Do you mind if I—”  He gestures with his shoulder to the door.   “I don’t want to break it but you’re hurt and—”

“Yes,” you say, cutting him off and looking away.  Those dark eyes are brimming with concern and you think your guilt might overflow.  You don’t want to cry again.  You wipe your nose on the back of your arm.  “That’s fine,” you say, steady as you can.  “I can get the locks fixed after.  Just get us inside.”

He nods and folds up his glasses then awkwardly looks around.  He gives you another sheepish look before handing them to you.   You take them and hold them against your chest while hopping back on your good foot.  You get out of his way, watching him roll up his wet sleeves and mutter something encouraging to himself.  He cringes when he thumps into the door and it doesn’t give. 

Much as you want to get inside, you don’t want him to hurt himself.  After the second heavy thud, you reach out.  Before you can stop him, he determinedly throws himself against it. 

The lock finally gives.  It takes one more shove for the door to fly open.  He kicks the broken pieces of the shattered lock aside, too focussed on his task to notice how startled you are by the display.  You are still processing it when he scoops you up again.  He carries you across the threshold and kicks the door closed behind himself. 

It is blessedly dry inside the little lodge but it is also freezing cold from lack of use.  You are both soaking wet and the chill wastes no time stabbing its way to your bones. 

There is a small couch that folds out into a bed and Jeongin sits you on it.  He goes down on one knee as he gently places you down, mindful of your shivering.  You look at him, his face not far in this position.  

He ducks down, taking your hurt ankle carefully in hand.  You hiss, instinctively withdrawing, but he holds you in place. 

“How bad is it?” he asks. 

“Not too bad,” you say.  “Just sore.”

“Are you sure?”

You would say yes even if it wasn’t true.  Jeongin kneeling in front of you, holding your foot in his lap, looking so attentive and concerned – it’s all a bit much. 

You nod.  Satisfied, he moves onto the next thing and reaches past you to hit a light switch.   The room stays grey, lit only by the overcast light outside the windows. 

“Of course,” you say bitterly, groaning.  “Oh, of course the power’s out. Why wouldn’t it be?”

He snorts, his dimples deepening as he looks at you.  Your gut instinct is to recoil from the flicker of heat under your skin, to look away from his smile.   You let yourself hold his gaze a little longer than usual. 

“You’re funny,” he says with another smile.   He looks over his shoulder at the same time a shiver crawls up his spine.   He shakes his shoulders and looks back at you.  “Is that electric or will it work?” he asks, pointing over his shoulder to the unlit fireplace. 

“It will work,” you say.  You are about to explain how it works when he gets up and goes over without further preamble.  You are watching him work when you realize you still have his glasses.   “Jeongin,” you say. 

He looks back at you, those silver-ringed fingers once more raking through his hair.  His face is open as always, attentive, brows lifted.  He really is very handsome. 

“Yes?” he asks when you are quiet for too long. 

“Oh, uh, sorry,” you say and hold out his glasses.  “You probably need these.”

He smiles, his eyes crinkling up in that delighted way. 

“Thank you.  They’re just for distance,” he says.  “I can see everything in here.” 

He turns back to the fireplace and resumes his work.  It only takes another second for the flames to sparkle then roar, an orange glow flooding the room.   He smiles and claps his hands with satisfaction.

“Not bad,” he says.  He is still smiling but his eyes look glassy with faraway thought.  His breath of a laugh is not very humorous, smile softer when he says, “I’m not totally useless, I guess, right?”

You close your eyes.   You don’t want to see his face.  You don’t want to know if he feels good about throwing that at you.  You definitely don’t want to know if he feels bad for saying it, because he shouldn’t feel bad.  He did nothing wrong. 

Jeongin has been nothing but kind to you from the day you met him.   You have a mutual friend in common so at first you only saw him in other people’s company.   Then your husband hired a team to do some renovations in the kitchen and, by sheer coincidence, Jeongin was one of the crewmen.  You started seeing him a lot more often, and in your own home at that.   

He was respectful and distant, at first, as was appropriate.  Jeongin is nothing if not polite. 

Jeongin is also undoubtedly a young man with a strict internal code.  The better he knew you, the better he knew your husband.   Your husband’s moral compass skewed considerably contrary to the kind-hearted Jeongin.  You had thus far survived a bad marriage by pretending the worst of it away. Jeongin’s sudden affection and sympathy – his sudden acknowledgement of your situation being bad – was too much for you to handle. 

You reacted badly.   He only ever tried to help you but you were not good at accepting help; it meant admitting something was wrong.  Even when you finally got around that stage, you still recoiled from his kind eyes and gentle words. 

Jeongin likes you as more than a friend.  He liked you from the start, when he was puttering around the worksite and you brought him lemonades and laughed with him about nothing. 

You liked him too.  You still like him.  But Jeongin is young and sweet and hopeful and you…

You know it’s silly, but your heart feels used up.  Someone like him should be with someone younger and full of equal hope, not you with your mess and baggage and nonsense. 

You resented his kindness, his youth, his hope.  You didn’t know what to do with his love. 

You tried to convince yourself you actually hated him.  When that didn’t work, you tried to convince him and everyone else.  If you couldn’t hate him, maybe you could make him hate you.   Maybe if he hated you, you could both move on.   But Jeongin isn’t like that.  He just kept moving along, just kept smiling, just kept looking at you like he could see right through your nonsense. 

Today you went on a little tirade to your friend.  You complained about feeling obligated to invite Jeongin to your party because you shared a friend group.  You complained about Jeongin in general, describing things that weren’t true.  You claimed he was naïve and annoying and always in your face, but that for all his pestering he never actually did anything useful. 

You weren’t exactly careful about who was listening.  Apparently, most of the party overheard you. 

It was that foolish, twisted feeling: you wanted to be heard because you were bursting inside, but then you realized that was the wrong release.  It brought no satisfaction, only shame.  You embarrassed him and yourself, and for what? 

“Jeongin,” you say in a small voice, already knowing that any and all words will fall woefully short of rectifying the situation.  Still, you have to say something.  With your eyes still closed and arms still crossed, you sigh and say, “I’m so sorry.  You know you’re not— You know I didn’t—  You know I don’t—”

You open your eyes.  He is illuminated by the fire, all traces of his smile dissolved.  He shivers and it seems to pull him out of his trance.   He rubs his forehead, then he turns to you and smiles politely. 

“It’s okay,” he says with a forced smile.  “I’m sorry.  Um.  Miss.  I shouldn’t have said—” 

“Don’t apologize,” you say as firmly as you can.  “Or speak formally.  It’s fine.  Jeongin, you—  Me—  I mean—”

Your stammering is half emotion, half the cold.  His expression changes as he seems to recognize that.  You are shivering so much your teeth start to chatter.  You haven’t even dropped his glasses because it would mean uncrossing your arms. 

He gets to his feet so quickly that he almost falls, slipping in the puddle caused by his own dripping clothes. 

“D-do you have a phone?” you ask, to which he nods and retrieves it from the front pocket of his overalls.  “C-can you call or t-text one of the boys and t-tell them we’re okay?  We just need to w-wait out the st-storm.  Sometimes th-they last a while.”  You can’t bring yourself to meet his eyes, your gaze on the middle of his chest, but you can see he is shivering too.  “We n-need to w-warm up so we don’t get s-sick.  There’s sh-sheets— there—can we m-make a bed—”  You nod your head vaguely in the right direction. 

You close your eyes and rock a little, trying to warm up.  It’s useless with your soaking heap of a dress clinging to every wet inch of you.  

You can hear Jeongin bustling around, doing everything you asked.  When you open your eyes, you see he has made a makeshift bed out of blankets and pillows near the fire.  

He is facing away from you.  A proper little burst of heat sparks inside you when he takes a breath and starts unclipping his overalls.  He kicks off his shoes at the same time.  You look away as he strips down his outer layers, sensibly removing his soaking wet things and laying them out by the fire.  You open your eyes at the same time he turns to look at you, his hands on the waistband of his briefs.   His ears are very red, chest and cheeks likewise dusted pink.  

You think your mutual shyness might be providing more heat than the fire.

“Sorry,” he says, grabbing a blanket and covering himself.  “It’s just—we should probably take off—”  His voice squeaks and he clears his throat. 

You find yourself smiling in spite of yourself.  You nod. 

“No, you’re right,” you say.  “S-sorry for, um, looking.” 

“That’s okay,” he says with a relieved laugh.   He smiles and says, “You can look if you want.” 

Jeongin has a remarkable ability to flicker between shyness and confidence.  The sparkle in his eyes tells you that his comment was not a thoughtless blunder.   Especially because he doesn’t wait for you to look away before tying the blanket around his hips and reaching under to shuffle out of his last article of clothing.

You look away and back again.  You suppose he works a fairly laborious job and is in good enough shape to haul you up a small hill, but still.  You find your breath stolen by his lean, subtle musculature, an effortless elegance to the long lines of his body.  

He smooths down his hair.  Your eyes are on his hands when you realize he is looking at you.  You look away quickly. 

“Haha, um, here,” Jeongin says.  He holds up a sheet in offering and turns his face away, eyes closed.  “You should change too.” 

You stand slowly, arms still crossed though you finally drop the glasses on the seat. 

“Thank you,” you say.  “For everything.”

He looks at you, probably supposing it is appropriate because you are still dressed, but your thin white dress has soaked completely through.  It is plastered to every inch of skin, the vaguest sheen of translucent white pulled over every dip and curve from your neck down. 

His gaze jumps, surprised, dark brows lifting as he looks down the whole length of you.  His mouth falls open and he looks away with the tips of his ears flaming red.  He holds up the sheet again. 

“Sorry,” he says.  “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay,” you say.

“No, sorry,” he says again. “I know you don’t… always like me…” 

You lower the sheet but he still doesn’t look at you.  You say his name and he replies with a hum. 

“Jeongin,” you say again, heart pounding.  “You can look too.”

He fumbles and drops the sheet.  He leaves it on the floor and looks at you with surprised eyes. 

Despite your words, he awkwardly covers his eyes when you reach for the straps of your dress.  Your laughter is breathless from the cold, but he still paints a charming sight with his red ears and hand over his eyes, contrasted to just how lovely those big hands are, to the shape of him, to the flattering shadows cast by the fire. 

You peel the dress down and let it hit the floor with a splat.  You feel better to have it gone but you are still cold.   You instinctively cross your arms again, rubbing your biceps.  

“Jeongin,” you say. 

“Hello,” he replies, eyes still covered.

“C-can you help me?” 

“Oh.” He pauses for a second.  “Help you… get undressed?” 

You really are too old to act like a little girl with a crush, but you feel that way.  You don’t remember the last time you felt like this, if you ever have.  It’s nice, a little scary.  You feel vulnerable and it has nothing to do with the amount of skin showing. 

“Yes please,” you say.  “I can’t reach behind me to unclasp my bra.” 

“Oh,” he says again.  “Oh.  Okay.” 

You turn around.  You give in to your smile, helplessly charmed by his sincerity.  Then he is touching you, his proximity radiating warmth, and the next shiver feels like the cold leaving your body all at once.  He fumbles a little with the clasp but that might be because his fingers are still stiff, but he gets it undone.  He steps back while you remove it.  When you turn around, he is already holding the sheet in offering.  He doesn’t cover his eyes though he does make a point of only looking at your face. 

“Thank you,” you say, taking the sheet.   

Despite his undoubted gentlemanly politeness, you catch him sneaking a peek before you wrap the sheet around your body.  You tuck it under your arms and tie a little knot.  Like him, you shuffle out of your underwear from under the sheet. 

He gathers your wet clothes and lays them beside the fire with his own.  With a little limp, you approach the nest of blankets and pillows, all arranged cozily on the thick, fluffy rug not far from the heat.   Even though it is obvious you will have to share the makeshift bed, you still hesitate just outside it.  Jeongin is kneeling in the centre, stretching out the clothes so they will dry faster.   He looks up when he sees you waiting. 

He holds out his hand. 

“You should rest your ankle.  And warm up,” he says.  “You’ll get sick.” 

With only a little struggle, you manage to overcome your hesitation.  You take his hand and step onto the rug. 

You swear more heat alights under his gaze than from the fire. 

He shuffles back, making room for you between him and the fire.  You would try and argue, to offer him the warmer space, but you doubt he would let you and you are still so cold.  You sit down gingerly, minding the sheet.   Your movements are mutually stilted and awkward, but then you smile at each other and relax a little.   You lay down so you are stretched in front of the fire, Jeongin sitting upright behind you.   You gaze up at him, watching him look around the room. 

“This place looks different,” he says, an understatement.  The ugly little lodge has been redone, stripped of the hunting gear and tables and replaced with a little library and reading nook.  There are plants under the window and little paintings on the mantlepiece.  It is a lot more welcoming than before. 

Perhaps it is that gentle coziness that makes you suddenly braver.  This space feels safe.  You do not hesitate in raising your hand, in stroking a few fingers softly down his arm.  His skin does not feel cold anymore so when he shivers, you don’t think it’s from a chill. 

He looks down, blinking those dark eyes at you.

“It’s still a little cold,” you say.  You already know your next words are going to be so blatant and so cheesy, so you have to bite your lip to stifle your own amusement at them.  “Maybe we should cuddle up for warmth?” 

“Oh.  Yeah.”  He smiles, dimples deep again.  “Good idea.” 

There is some embarrassed, breathless laughter as you shuffle around.  He pulls up a thicker blanket to cover you both.  Even with your explicit invitation, he is clearly still uncertain about what you want.   You show him, taking his arm and pulling it around you, laying down with your back to him, pressed close and separated only by your individual sheets.  

You look into the fire, taking a few deep breaths.  You feel him settle around you. 

“Okay?” he asks. 

“Mhm,” you say.  “Definitely.” 

“Good.  Good.”

You smile, biting your bottom lip again. 

You lay there for a while, listening to the fire crackle, letting the heat wash over you.   He doesn’t budge an inch, as if scared jostling you will disrupt the peace.  His arm is slung over your middle and you touch his hand.  You trace your fingers over a ring.  He exhales. 

“Can I ask you something?” he says, his voice low.   “It’s a little serious.” 

Your heart races as you know there are a million serious questions he could ask you, but you nod.  “Of course,” you say. 

There is a breath of a moment.  His hand turns under yours, fingertips brushing yours. 

“Why,” he says slowly, “would you ever pick that wallpaper?”  He points to the far wall.  “It’s dark in here and it’s still so ugly it’s hurting my eyes.”

You burst out laughing, caught off guard.  Your laughter makes him laugh, his hand catching yours when you lightly slap at him. 

“Jeongin,” you say with a little whine, “don’t torture me.”

“I’m not!” he says.  “It’s a serious question!”

“Ahh!”  You laugh some more, rolling onto your back and covering your face with both hands. 

He laughs, tugging at your wrist to uncover your face.  You pout at him and he just smiles back.  He lays on his side and props his head in his hand, grinning down at you.  You take his free hand and trace the shape of his ring again, looking up as his goofy expression softens. 

“You’re funny too,” you say.  “I’m sorry for being an idiot to you. I was wrong and you didn’t deserve it.” 

“You’re not an idiot,” he says softly, looking down at where you are fiddling with his ring.  “You were going through a lot.”   

“Still,” you say.  “I’m a grown woman and I’ve been acting like a child, bullying the nice boy I like because I don’t know what to do with my emotions.”    

You thought that would be hard to say out loud, but once it’s out there you feel a lightness in your chest.  You take in a deep breath. 

“That’s not being an idiot,” Jeongin says after a moment.   He curls his fingers around yours and squeezes lightly.  “Maybe just a little stupid,” he adds.  

You laugh again, rolling to face him and his silly grin. 

“I really am sorry,” you say.  “I know it’s not enough to say it, but—”

“It’s enough,” he says.  “You know, I followed you when you came this way because I wanted to tell you that.”  When you cover your face with your hand, he moves it.  “Also,” he says, “you were running too far away from everyone else.  They wouldn’t have found you if you hid so far out here, you know.” 

“That’s the point of the game,” you say.  “It’s hide and seek.”

“Yeah, but…”  His free hand finds yours again.  He looks into your eyes.  “I don’t think winning like that is actually fun?  If you’re alone, and never let anyone find you again.” 

Oh.  Of course Jeongin would ask ‘a serious question’ to spring a joke on you, then sneak the truly serious topic in a discussion of hide-and-seek. 

You drop your gaze to your joined hands. 

“I guess,” you say.  “I guess also it’s… um, well.”  You figure you might as well drop the metaphor as it isn’t fooling anyone.  “You don’t get hurt when you’re alone, Jeongin.  And the happier something makes you, the worse it feels when it hurts you.”

“I would never hurt you,” he says, completely serious.  He squeezes your hand. 

You look at him, smiling gently.  You know that promise is a big one, and nearly impossible as people can hurt each other without trying.  The declaration is innocent but also heartfelt.  You understand what he means. 

He seeks your gaze to ensure you understand him, so you look at him and nod.  You feel a bit watery again. 

“I know you would try,” you say.  “Is it stupid how that scares me even more?”

“Oh,” he says, separating his hand from yours so he can cup your face.  You think he is going to say something tender when he just smiles and nods and says, “Yeah, probably.”

You snort with laughter, grabbing his hand and moving it off your face.

“You’re terrible,” you say.

“Maybe,” he says, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.  “But… you’re the one who likes me, or so you said…” 

“I take it back,” you say, starting to roll away. 

He grabs your shoulder and pulls you back, giggling.  “You can’t take it back,” he says.  “We’re sharing a bed so… that’s the rules.”

“Oh, really.”

“Yes.  Sorry.”

You find yourself endlessly charmed by him.   His cocky smile is cute, especially because the tips of his ears are still red.  You find yourself tracing the curve of that ear, his blush darkening with your attention.  His smile turns affectionate, his eyes creased with happiness.   The unremitted pleasure draws you in and grants you access to the more confident parts of yourself.  You let your body lead you, experience fueling instinct as you guide him onto his back and lean over him.

You touch the side of his face, fingertips tracing his jaw.  His mouth opens and he blinks away his surprise.   

“What?” you say.

“Nothing.”  His smiles widens.  He raises a hand to touch the side of your face too, surprising you in turn.  “You’re pretty.”

The simplicity of the compliment makes you a little shy.  You smile, leaning into his touch. 

“You’re cute,” you say, only for his face to scrunch up with theatrical displeasure. “What?” you say, laughing.  “You are!”

“Puppies are cute,” he says dryly.  “Babies are cute.  I’m not cute.”

“You are.”  You can’t help but tease, his smile encouraging you.  You poke his dimple.  “Soooo cute.  The cutest.”

You laugh until he slides one hand around the back of your neck.  With his hand protectively cradling the back of your head, he flips you over so it’s you laying under him.   You find yourself looking down the length of him, his chest and abdomen, the place the blanket parts.  You look up when his nose nudges your chin, tilting your head back.   You realize you were holding a breath and swallow one down, shaky. 

He laughs but gently. 

“You’re cute,” he says, voice barely louder than the crackling fire.

“I’m not cute,” you say, tipping your chin up.  “I’m older than you.”

“Sooo cute,” he copies you.  “The cutest.” 

You realize this game of one-upping each other could quickly turn into a torturous teasing session – each of you just looking, daring, goading the other into more without fully surrendering. 

You smile and tip your head, sighing in a feathery-soft voice and wetting your lips. 

“Am I?” you ask, lifting a leg so it separates your sheet.  You can see his breath catch. 

You have butterflies inside you, fluttering away like never before. 

You undo the knot of the sheet.  You watch his eyes lower as you slowly peel the whole sheet open.  All the playfulness leaves his face, his jaw gone slack, surprise once again taking over as he stares. 

“Wow,” he finally says.  “Wow.  You’re— wow.” His expression shows he means it. 

“You’re exaggerating.”  You turn your face aside. 

“I’m not,” he says.  His hands move to either side of your head as he holds himself over you.  It draws your gaze back to him.  “Stop hiding, okay?” he says softly. 

“I think I’m doing the opposite of hiding right now,” you say, a gentle joke that he answers with utmost seriousness: swooping down and kissing you. 

It is not a soft kiss, burning and wanting, his mouth a hungry thing against your own.  It feels like a kiss he has thought about, a kiss he can’t help but hurry towards. 

Just as desirous, you fall too, the kiss so hard that you find it hard to slow down.  He eventually guides you to a gentler press, closing his lips against yours, letting them linger. 

A breath passes between you.

“Remember when you hated me,” he says, smiling, “and you tried to convince me we were incompatible?”  He kisses you softly.  “I think you were wrong.”   

He doesn’t leave room for a reply.  He kisses you again, just as hotly as before.  This time he rests more of his body against yours and you can feel where he is already hard beneath the blanket.  You can also feel it is more than substantial, drawing a gasp from your lips as he presses against you. 

“Jeongin,” your voice comes out breathless.  It is still more coherent than his reply, which is just a grunt as he starts kissing down your throat. 

It is dizzyingly hot.  You have to close your eyes to stay grounded, arching against him, running your fingers through his already messy hair. 

You are still able to giggle when he struggles to remove the blanket.  He laughs back.  You can’t remember the last time you laughed during sex.  It makes you feel like you are floating, light and carefree, driven by pleasure and nothing else. 

He gets the blanket off but before you can look down, he is sliding his hand between your bodies.  Your eyes close again, head falling back as his fingers stroke your inner thigh.  He teases there for a long time, making you strain and buck and chase his fingers.  Finally you whimper and grab some of his hair, pulling his face close to yours.

“Are you trying to make me hate you again?” you tease.

He smiles against your lips, his fingers just barely brushing between your legs.  Your thighs part, making room, but he waits. 

“You never hated me,” he says. 

Your reply gets caught in your throat when he finally slides one finger against you.  It is torturously not enough. 

“Jeongin,” you say again, running your fingers to the back of his neck.  “Please.”

“Tell me you hated me,” he says, even while proving you very much do not hate him: gathering so much wetness on his fingertips, lightly circling them up and over the most sensitive part of you.  “Can’t you?” he asks.  “Let me hear you say it.” 

“I—I—”

“Hate me?”

You shake your head, opening your eyes to look at him imploringly.  You gasp against his lips when he slides that finger inside you.  There is a ring on the one beside it, the smooth ridge gliding against you.   You cant your hips up, wanting more while he teases you. 

“You don’t hate me,” he says, to which you shake your head again.  He kisses you, licking into your mouth at the same time his fingers sink deep inside you.   He is good with his hand, his fingers long and steady, working you up until you are soaking him and clawing at his shoulder. 

“Please,” you say, dizzy from the stars bursting in every place his fingers reach.  They curl inside you as if telling you to come.  Your head falls back and his lips go down your throat as he brings you over the edge with his touch.  

He doesn’t stop when you come, drawing the whole thing out so the peak seems to last minutes.  Tears of pleasure spring to your eyes.  Only when you are gasping does he carefully withdraw his hand.  

He looks at you with a smile then kisses your cheek.  With a smile, you lean in to kiss him, then he suddenly ducks.  His hands dive under your thighs and then his face is right there, tongue taking a swipe at your still distended clit, making your whole body shudder.  You dig your fingers into his hair, holding on and closing your eyes.  It feels so good but you are still sensitive and not good at coming multiple times in a row, so after enjoying his very adept movements, you tug on his hair to lead him back up your body. 

You grab his face and kiss him hard, tasting yourself all over his wet mouth.  He moans into your mouth and presses hard against you.  His hands cradle your hips.  You spread your legs around him. 

You feel lighter after coming.  Relaxed, not just physically.  Suddenly words are easier too, spoken thoughtlessly in such close proximity to his lips. 

“I wanted you so much,” you admit.  “For so long.  Even when I was pretending to hate you.” 

“I was here,” he says, kissing along your jaw.  “I’m still here.” 

“I know.” You tug on his hair, tipping his head back so you can kiss his face too.  You nip under his jaw, his neck, luxuriating in the sound he makes.  “This is going to sound silly, but I used to fantasize—no, never mind.” 

“Wha—”

You roll him over before he can ask, taking a turn to work your mouth down his body now too.  It sufficiently distracts him as your mouth dives down, down, down.  You pause for a moment just to look at him, your gaze one of admiration and maybe slight intimidation.  You haven’t slept with anyone since before the divorce and that was a while ago.  Jeongin is bigger than most of your toys.   When you put your mouth on him, you barely get past the head before you have to use your hand for the rest of him.  You try to take a little more but you are very out of practice, choking a little and drooling all over him. 

It used to confuse you: the idea anyone would enjoying giving pleasure this way.  For the recipient, it made enough sense, but not as the giver.  You realize now that difference in desire was partner.  When Jeongin moans and curls his fingers into the rug, thighs parting to make room for you to comfortably sit there, you understand.   Messy as it is, you eagerly dive back down, wetting him with your mouth and working him in your hand. 

When he closes his eyes and drops his head back, he misses the pillow.  The rug is plush and softens his landing, but you still hear a very heavy thump when his head hits the ground.  He hisses, his face scrunching up in pain as he reaches to cup the back of his head. 

“Oh my god,” you say, sitting up and wiping your mouth.  You try not to laugh.  “Jeongin, are you okay?” 

He gives you a thumbs up with his free hand.  Then he curses and sighs in exasperation. 

“My hand is stuck,” he says, jerking the arm that is folded under his head.  “My ring—is in my hair—”

“Oh nooo…”  You are laughing properly now, in a fit of giggles as you climb up beside him to look behind his head.  You help untangle the hair from the ring, though a few strands still get yanked out of his head.   The sudden swing makes his head bounce, thunking into yours.  You both groan in pain.  You grasp your forehead and sit back on your heels. 

“This is not how I pictured this going,” he mumbles. 

“Which part? The storm, the threat of hypothermia, or the multiple injuries?” you ask. 

He grins at you, then moves to kneel in front of you.  He kneels upright while you are sitting back, putting you close to eye level with your previous task.  You look there, reaching, but he takes your hands in his and holds them. 

“Actually,” he says, “the part that surprised me most was you saying you thought about us,” he smiles here, “and it was so bad you couldn’t even admit it.”

You try to cover your face but he holds your hands, still grinning.  You throw back your head and groan. 

“It’s not bad,” you say.

His hand runs up your arm to your neck, thumb stroking your chin as he gently pulls you forward.  You go up on your knees too, following his angle for a kiss.  He leans close but doesn’t seal it, saying, “You know if you don’t tell me, I’m going to imagine the worst.”

“It’s nothing,” you say, hiding your face in the crook of his shoulder.  He pats the back of your head, still giggling to himself.  You lean back to look at him again, pouting just a bit, then reaching between your bodies to take him in hand.  You smile sweetly at him.  “Can we fuck?” you ask, watching the flicker of surprise and desire cross his face.  “Birth control, so I’m good if you’re good.  Come on.” 

You go to lay down but he catches the back of your neck, pulling you back to him.  He lifts one eyebrow. 

“You’re not gonna let this go,” you say dryly. 

“I would never force it out of you,” he says, “but the curiosity is killing me.” 

“Well,” you say, tingling under the attention of his intense gaze, of his hand so strongly holding your neck, of his nonchalance.  He isn’t even trying.  You take a deep breath.  “It’s sort of what you just said.”

“What… killing me?  You wanted to kill me?” 

“No!”  You smack his chest.  “I hate you again.  No.   I just…  Not that I wanted to the truth forced out of me but…”  You look at his face, his expression curious but not judgemental yet.  “You know all those cheesy romance novels?  Like… mafia leader stuff?  That.”

“You wanted me to be Italian?”

“Genuinely gonna kill you.”

“I’m kidding, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, continue.”

“You know what I mean!  The button popping and bodice ripping stuff.”  You mime tearing his nonexistent shirt open.  “I liked you and I wanted to do something about it, but I also didn’t want to do something about it.  So I wanted you to do something about it.  No one needs to tell me what it’s like for a shitty guy to take advantage of you, so that’s not what it was—  I just—”  You sigh.  “I wanted it to be easy.  I wanted it to be you.  Because you aren’t a shitty guy.  You’re the best guy I know.  So I would’ve let you have anything, because you would be taking what I wanted to give.  And there would be no need to talk about it or work it out.  It would just be… easy.”

“I like talking,” he says, tipping his head as if studying you.  “But I think I get it.”

“Mhm?” you ask, a little dryly.  You quirk an eyebrow at his cheesy, dimpled grin.  “Sure about that?” 

“Yes,” he says, smiling so bright it goes right up to his eyes.  “I’m sure.” 

His grip tightens on the back of your neck, pulling you right up against him.  Your chests press together and you gasp, shivering when his lips graze your ear. 

“Like this, right?” he speaks lowly.  He threads his fingers into your hair, close to your scalp so there is a controlled, gentle burn when he tugs.  “Just take.” 

“Yes,” you say, rasping.  “It’s already yours.” 

“You’re mine?” he asks. His other hand is suddenly between your legs and this time he doesn’t tease, his knuckle parting your wet folds.  Two fingers curl inside you.  “Or this is mine?”  

He tugs your head back, looking in your eye as he finger-fucks you, all the playfulness gone from his expression.  His sharp features look suddenly more severe: the cut of his jaw, his cheekbones, his brow.   You swallow hard. 

“I can’t say,” you speak in a husky voice.  “My husband would be angry.  You should go before he finds you.”

His fingers move out of you, your thighs shaking in their withdrawal.  The hand in your hair stays steady.  Then he squints, looking almost cartoonishly fierce when he says, “I’m in the… mafia.  I killed your husband?”

“Oh.”  You bite back a laugh.  “You don’t literally need to be in the mafia.”

“You did say—”

“That was just, like, a genre example—”

“Oh, okay, I get it now.”  He nods his head.  “I’ll stop if you say stop.”  He clears his throat.   “You don’t want a guy like that.  And you don’t want your husband.”  He puts a hand on your lower back and tugs, sweeping you over.  His arms hold you safe as he spills you onto your back.  One hand skims your body, hooking under your knee to bring it up around his hips.  “You want me,” he says.  

The gleam in his eye seems very genuine. 

“That would be inappropriate,” you say, not needing to fake your breathy voice when he moves against you, the length of him hot and hard and close to where you want him.   You clench around nothing, your heart picking up in speed with anticipation. 

He smiles, not quite his usual smile. 

“It would be very inappropriate,” he says. 

Then his hands are on your hips and he is turning you onto your front.  You sprawl with some genuine surprise, getting your arms under you only seconds before his hand is back in your hair.  You lift when he pulls, his grip careful but strong.  He holds you there, up on your hands and knees.  He goes up on one knee behind you, careful when pushing inside you, then sliding in all the way and staying there. 

Oh, you feel him.  Not just because it’s been a while.  You let yourself enjoy it, happily sinking into pleasure with the secure knowledge he will listen if you ask to stop, that his pleasure is tied to yours.  So you let your mouth fall open and eyes close, let the heat of the flames brush over you, let him hold you how he wants.  You take as much as he does, soaking in all that sensation.  He fills you up and fucks you deep – fast then faster.   You squeeze around him, practically singing with how you moan and sigh. 

“Yes,” he says, pulling you back into his arms as he moves to lay on his side.  He stays inside you, drawing your leg up and fucking you like that. 

You look back at him and don’t mind at all when he breaks character, yet again, this time to kiss you sweetly. 

“It doesn’t hurt?” he asks in a whisper, slowing down.  “You’re so… small.”   

“I’m not,” you say with a little laugh.  “You’re just big, baby.” 

“Baby—okay.  That’s good.  I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“I know, Jeongin,” you say, hiccupping a little because he is still fucking you hard despite his gentle words.  It makes you feel a little insane in a good way, him so very nonplussed as he screws your brain out.   “Thank you,” you say. 

“For what?” he asks. 

“I don’t knooow,” you say, reaching behind you to hold onto him.  “Just thaaank you, auugh, it’s good.”

“Oh, I get it,” he says.  “For this. Okay.” 

How he’s simultaneously cute and insanely sexy, your brain will just never compute.  But he wraps an arm around you and puts his hips to use, fucking you until you can feel an orgasm building without even rubbing your clit.  You think to try but all you can do is cling to him, letting your worries fly away as he pants and groans and holds you steady in his arms. 

“Like that, like that,” you say, your last coherent sentence until you fall apart, repeating his name as he follows you over the edge. 

He holds you tight, kissing whatever he finds first.  He rocks you through the end of it, easing you into rest.  When he pulls out, you shiver, and it has nothing to do with the cold. 

You roll over in his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck.  He kisses your cheek and temple, then rests his forehead against yours. 

“I’m not cold anymore,” you say, making him laugh lightly. 

“Me too,” he says. 

“Thank you,” you say, leaning back to look at him.  “For everything.” 

He smiles that smile you love, cupping your face. 

“Thank you,” he says, “for showing me your hiding place.  Can I come here again with you?” 

Joking right after sex was never a habit before, but you find yourself bursting into a silly grin and saying, “Baby, you already know you can come wherever you want—” 

It makes him laugh too, the unexpectedness sending him over.  You laugh at him laughing so much, curling up close to him with the heat of the fire at your back. 

The cabin is warm.  Your clothes are probably long since dry.  The storm stopped a while ago and you only notice now. 

#skz smut #stray kids smut #yang jeongin smut #yang jeongin x reader #IN x reader #skz x reader

[janeyseymour]

Won't You Be... My Neighbor? -pt 2

Part 1.

Summary: Throughout the preparation for Melissa's court hearing, you find yourself falling for her.

WC: ~2.35k

“You’re a lawyer?” Melissa looks at you as if you just told her you were actually born on Mars.

You nod confidently. “A damn good one too.”

“Then what the hell are you doing here in West Philly?”

You chuckle. “I grew up around here. Liked the area, never really cared to leave.”

“Wow,” she whispers out in amazement. “Would you really be able to help me? I’ll pay you of course.”

You roll your eyes. “Of course I can help you. And don’t worry about a payment. I’d be happy to help you out.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she states.

You wave a lazy hand in dismissal as you sip your wine. “No it ain’t. Just… cook me a couple meals, and we’ll call it even.”

That gets the redhead to laugh a little. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Tell me a little about him,” you prompt.

So she does. The two of you chat long into the night, and it’s only when Melissa yawns for the fourth time that you smile at her, finish off what little remains in your glass, and stand. “I suppose I should let you get to bed. But let’s… reconvene soon?”

She nods sleepily. “I’ll see you soon, Y/N. And seriously, thank you.”

“Have a good night, Melissa.” You leave the apartment and head down the hall to your own.

As you crawl into bed that night, you think about everything that she had said to you. Genuinely, you feel terrible for the woman a few doors down. She seems to have put her heart and soul into that marriage, only for all of her hard work and care to go down the drain. And from what you can tell, she isn’t exactly swimming in money right now- especially taking on a new apartment and having a young child to care for on her own. But she’s doing everything she can right now to make it work, including working overtime at her school to tutor children who need extra help. Her ex-husband is making absolutely no contributions aside from the extra hell that he is giving her. You find yourself even more motivated to help your neighbor win her case against her husband and gain full custody of her son.

It’s a few days later when you run into Melissa again, and she seems just as frazzled as she was the first day you met her. JJ is on her hip crying again, pleading to not have to go to the grocery store.

You are just coming in from a rather long day at work, and while the last thing you want to do is look after a small child (one who will need lots of tender love and care to calm down), you make your way over to the pair.

“Hey,” you say softly as you adjust your briefcase slung around you.

Melissa runs a hand through her hair. “Hi.” She turns her attention back to her son. “Sweetheart, we have to get groceries for the week… but Momma promises she’ll be quick.”

“I don’t wanna!” the little boy screeches.

“Missed nap time at daycare,” the redhead whispers over his head. Then she presses her lips together in a fine line as she continues to bounce him on her hip. She tries to calm him with a few short hums, but JJ just continues to cry out.

You blow out a breath. “I can take him for a little while you go grocery shopping,” you offer softly.

Those green eyes meet yours immediately. “Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t mind,” you say with a soft smile. “And it looks like you could use a break from kids for at least an hour.”

“Are you sure?” Melissa breathes out. “Because I can take him- he is my son.”

“I know he is,” you chuckle quietly. “But I also know that it’s okay to lean on someone to help you, and I told you I’m here for you.”

The teacher sighs softly. She looks down at her crying little boy. “Baby, Miss Y/N says you can stay with her while Momma goes grocery shopping, how does that sound?”

JJ whines out, but he looks to you with curious eyes and nods just once. His cries immediately start to soften as he realizes he doesn’t have to go to the dreaded grocery store and sit in that uncomfortable cart. He rubs at his eyes as he lets out a small yawn. “Momma?”

“Yeah, JJ?”

“I love you,” the little boy mumbles into Melissa’s shoulder.

“I love you too, honey,” the woman smiles softly as she presses a soft kiss to his head. “Can I put you down now so you can go with Miss Y/N?”

JJ nods, so Melissa sets him down on the ground. He immediately reaches for your free hand that isn’t holding your water bottle.

“Be a good little boy, okay?” the redhead instructs softly to her son. He nods, and you lead him down to your own apartment.

He’s as happy as a clam to sit with you while you go through a few more papers, and then you know it’s time that you should probably start making dinner. With a soft sigh, you lift him to your hip and start pulling out ingredients to make a meal.

“Dinner?” the little boy asks as he starts playing with the baby hairs that have fallen out of your ponytail.

“Yeah, hun,” you smile softly. “How does spaghetti sound?”

“I love pasetti,” your little neighbor mumbles.

You chuckle quietly as the way he says the word but nod. “Then that’s what we’ll have. Does your momma like spaghetti?”

He gives you a cheeky smile in response.

By the time that Melissa comes around to collect her son, you have him calmed down, fed, and giggling as you play Candy Land with him. However, she looks absolutely furious when you open the door.

“You okay?” you ask her quietly, although you very much know the answer already.

“Peachy,” is what she retorts. “C’mon, JJ. I have to get dinner started.”

“But Y/N already gived me dinner, and we saved some for you!” the little boy announces from his place on the floor, donned in one of your sweatshirts.

The redhead furrows her brows. “What?”

“I hope I’m not overstepping,” you say softly. “But he was hungry, I was making dinner, and I figured you might like to come home and not have to cook today.”

“That… wow,” Melissa sighs quietly. “Thank you.”

“It’s on the stove, and if it needs warmed, you’ve seen where my microwave is,” you smile at her as you return back to your game with her son. “Feel free to grab a glass of wine too if you want.”

As the redhead makes her way into the kitchen, she realizes that she can’t remember the last time someone made her a home cooked meal, even if it was something as simple as spaghetti. Joe had cooked for her maybe once as a way to get into her pants, and before then… it was her grandmother while her own parents were in the middle of their terrible divorce and custody battle.

The mother gets her dinner, and then she’s settling on the floor next to her son. She eats in silence, enjoying the fact that she does not have to entertain her son. She also watches as you handle him with such ease, making him smile and giggle the way that only she and Barb can get JJ to act. He’s such a sweet little boy, and the redhead would be lying to herself if she said that watching you with him didn’t make that small attraction to you just the slightest bit bigger.

You of course let the little boy win, and when he does, you tickle him relentlessly claiming that he was just too good and that he must’ve been cheating. His infectious laugh only makes you chuckle, and you know that you would do anything to keep this little boy happy- he already has a piece of your heart.

Then he tiredly crawls into his way into your lap and lays his head on your chest. “Sleepy,” is all he gets out as his eyes start to droop down.

The redhead stands, only half finished her meal. “I guess I should get him-”

You raise a hand as you stand and settle the two of you on the couch. “Don’t even worry about it. He can sleep on me while you finish your meal, and then you can tell me why you came in so pissed.”

Melissa chuckles, but she situates herself back on the floor. She watches the two of you for a bit as you lull her son to sleep with mindless humming and your fingers combing through his hair.

After a bit, you look down, and you know JJ is asleep. “So, you wanna tell me what had you so pissed?”

“Fucking Joe,” is all Melissa sighs out. “Told me that he’s looking for the best family lawyer in the city and that he’s gonna get custody of my son.”

“Well he’s screwed then, because that would be me,” you roll your eyes. “And I’m already taking your case on. Speaking of, there are a few papers I’ll need you to fill out in my briefcase, but I can get them to you tomorrow.”

“You’re the-” her eyes go comically wide.

“I am,” you say cooly. “85% success rate, and he doesn’t know that the odds are already stacked against him with most judges tending to rule with the mother having custody. And if he tries to pull any shit, I’ll make his life a living hell.”

And Joe does try to pull a bunch of shit- threatening Melissa, having his lawyers try to find loopholes around most things. And you just document it all. You and the redhead prepare for the case mostly after long days of work over a meal with that sweet little boy curled up in your lap and wearing one of your sweatshirts.

As the two of you prepare for the court case, you get to see more of the Schemmenti household. You get to see Melissa when she’s at her happiest, playing a simple round of Chutes and Ladders with JJ to take a break from all of the preparation. You also see her when she’s done up for school, and you swear she’s taken your breath away quite a few times. But you also see her at her lowest of lows, when she’s terrified that she’s going to lose JJ and that Joe’s threats are genuinely scaring her to the point of tears. You see her when she’s clad in her pajama bottoms and Eagles sweatshirt, ready to rip her hair out over the meltdown her son is having, and yet she’s still soft and warm with him. And it all… it makes you feel honored that you get to see her for everything that she is- apparently that isn’t a common thing for her to do, to let people in. And yet here you are, getting to know her and see every side of the redhead- even the parts that she doesn’t want you to see.

Her son is obsessed with you in the sweetest way, always coming and knocking on your door to ask if you can play a game with him or to simply give you a hug before he gallops his way back down to his own door with a proud look on his face. 

You would be lying to yourself if you said that you weren’t happy to find yourself a part of their little bubble and that you were falling more and more in love with your client each and every day that you get to see her (which is of course everyday, whether that be to chat over dinner, prepare for the hearing, or just a simple ‘hello’ as you pass each other in the hall). But she… she’s your client, and she’s going through a messy, messy divorce, and you don’t even know if she likes women. You have your own theory that she’s bisexual, but nothing has been confirmed. You can’t, in good conscience, make a move on her. So you don’t. You sit with your feelings and try to not let them consume you.

The day that you spent hours preparing for comes, and Melissa slides into her place very nervously with her son in her arms. She looks absolutely stunning in her dress pants and blazer, and JJ looks precious in his little outfit that you have no doubt is his Easter best.

“I thought we spoke about not bringing him here,” you say in a hushed tone.

The redhead runs a hand through her hair. “I know, I know. My sister was supposed to watch him, but she bailed last minute, Barb can’t watch him because she’s working at the school, and you’re my other babysitter.”

“He better stay quiet,” you warn. “It’s not uncommon for judges to put children in contempt if they’re noisy.”

“He won’t be,” Melissa promises you. “He’s got his little fidget toy, and we already talked about how to act because we don’t want to get taken from Momma.”

The hearing is long and arduous for all parties, but when that gavel comes down and the judge rules that Melissa has sole custody of her son with Joe only being allowed supervised visits due to his excessive drinking, the threats he had made, and his other habits you know it was all worth it.

The mother immediately bursts into happy tears while Joe starts to fume. He starts screaming and cursing, and the court officers begin to rush him out.

He’s not out of the room before he can get out, “You’ll pay for this, you bitch!”

Melissa, too caught up in smothering her little boy in love, doesn’t even pay attention to his words. And later on, she wishes she would have. 

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson

#melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary

[klausysworld]

A random idea, Klaus is really (murder spree) angry Elijah and Rebecca are trying to talk reader into leaving with them but she tells them no, that she knows Klaus won’t hurt her, they are both in shock as they watch her walk up to Klaus speak to him and he totally calms down.

Thanks.

Because I love you

As I approached the abattoir i could hear glass breaking, a whole lot of screaming and a very distinctive yell, Klaus. Suddenly Rebekah came rushing out, the door swinging dramatically behind her as she ran towards me

“Y/n he’s gone mad, we need to leave now, come on in the car” she spoke in one breath grabbing onto my sleeve as tugging me along

“What happened? Is he okay?” I asked concerned. Suddenly Elijah appeared next to us covered in blood

“He’s prepared to kill every being in this city if not all of America itself for the best that we go away for a bit- you especially, you’re human” he took my hand and tried to coax me into the car

“No what? What happened? Did someone hurt him?” I question, another crash sounded, another scream.

“Look we just need to get out! It’s not safe when he’s like this!” Rebekah whisper yelled starting the car

“Jesus you two are meant to be a thousand years old, I’m going to see if he’s okay” i started walking back but Elijah was directly infront of me again

“Y/n i beg you to reconsider, he will hurt you” i frowned at him and moved around him

“He won’t lay a hand on me” i nodded to myself walking forward a little more confidently. I heard the car stop and both of their footsteps following behind

“He might drain you-“ Rebekah started

“He won’t” i cut her off

I walked in to see bodies nearly everywhere. I quickly ducked as a whole ass chair flew through the air and smashed into the wall behind me. I blinked a few times at it before making eye contact with an apprehensive Elijah who light shook his head ‘no’

I took a breath and turned back to the direction of pain filled terror. I stepped over and/or around the body parts leading to a fuming Klaus, blood splattered everywhere and a white oak stake in his hand that pointed at a man i had never seen who was crying a river

“Klaus?” I asked softly, his head whipped round to face me, his deathly expression dropping as he lowered his hand

“My love you need to go home” he told me, his adams apple bobbing

“Can you put the stake away…why do you even have it? I thought it was destroyed remember?” I asked stepping closer to which he moved backwards

“They want to kill me, it would seem that they discovered another. They need to pay for the harm they have caused and the lives they have threatened” his words grew harsher with each word, his gaze hardening

“Elijah and Rebekah are afraid, please calm down” i whispered and he growled

“My siblings are weak! They will not stand and defend themselves! Defend me! Or you! These people they threatened you! They will die and i do not care if i have to kill off the entire world to make sure every last pathetic excuse of an enemy is dead”

My lips pulled together in a thin line before i spoke again

“Look at him Niklaus, he’s crying, are you even sure that he was apart of this? There’s a dead old man in the corner, i do doubt an 80 year old human could have charged at you with white oak”

“He was collateral” he mumbled

“I thought you were going to try and limit the collateral” i took a few steps closer

“I can’t, not with this” he uttered

“Please, some of these people have families, they have people they love. Klaus i love you, if someone were to kill you and say it was collateral i would not accept that”

“That is why i need to kill everyone so it just cancels out” he frowned

“You’re making a bigger mess, just give me the stake, you trust me right? I’m going to put it somewhere safe so you can’t get hurt. Then you can stop because nobody can kill you without it” he sighed and looked at the weapon hesitantly

“But they can harm you” he whispered almost incoherently

“Then be with me, just stay with me” i held my hand out to him, he nodded nearly unnoticeably and dropped the stake in my hand.

“Let him go please” I instructed and he let go of the man infronts throat, letting him drop to the ground sobbing

“We’re going to go upstairs, calm down for 10 minutes and then I’m going to help you clean this up”

“We are not doing anything of the sort, you should never have to touch such horrible things” he growled

“This is not something anybody should have to do but you made the mess and you will clear it up and because i love you, and so i will help” i yelled back at him. He fell silent and his eyes dropped

“I’ll do it myself” he murmured

“We will help” Elijah called from behind us, i turned and smiled sadly at him, Rebekah was already lifting a body from the ground. Both looking both shocked, terrified and confused at the same time

“No, I’m afraid this is something he needs to do without you, please just relax, no more drama, take a day off” i took Klaus’s hand and pulled him up the stairs to the bathroom. I filled a bucket with warm water and grabbed a cloth

“There’s not much point in a shower until we’ve gotten rid of everything so ill just wash your face” I muttered seeing him glance to the shower

“Okay” he whispered lifting his head to make it easier to wipe clean

Once finished he looked at me silently for a minute or two

“Are you upset with me” he asked quietly

“No, I’m upset with the situation” I muttered

“You’re disappointed” he whispered

“I just don’t like all the death but i understand why you got angry, you just need to wait a minute and think before you act. Please don’t let me find you like that again, Elijah thought you would hurt me.” I stoked his cheek bones with my thumbs

“Did you…think i would hurt you?” He asked softly

“No, you wouldn’t touch me” I confirmed and he sighed, his head growing heavy in my hands as his eyes closed for a second

“I love you and i…i trust you” he uttered

“I trust you too, and you know that i love you. Now are you ready to grab a sponge for the floors…and walls and furniture and-“

“I got it, ill grab a few sponges” he muttered pushing his forehead to mine

“You know if you do it without complaining ill give you a reward later” i whispered to him

“What kind of reward?” He asked with a smile

“Perhaps you can take out your frustration on me? I may even get on my knees for you if you deserve such treatment” a low growl came from his throat as his arms circled my body

“Then we should really get started”



#klaus mikaelson #the originals #klaus mikaleson imagine #klaus mikaelson one shot #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus michaelson #klaus mikealson fanfiction #niklaus imagines #klaus m #klaus mikaelson x y/n #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries #kol mikaelson #tvd klaus #rebekah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #niklaus mikaelson #tvd universe #hope mikaelson #klaus mikaelson fluff #klaus mikaelson headcanon #klaus mikaelson yandere #klaus mikealson smut #klaus mikaelson x yn #klaus mikealson x reader #tvdu angst #tvd smut #tvdu fanfiction #tvdu #tvdu x reader

[nyimasu]

INCHES IN BETWEEN US — BUDDHA X FEM!READER

ART CREDIT!

— CW : size kink, buddha is THE master of teasing, sweets are involved in this one (keep reading ehe), sacrilegious stuff, lots of foreplay, pet names (petal), praise kink, fingering and oral (f receiving), prone bone position

— WORD COUNT : 2.1k┊AO3 LINK

NOTE : who would've thought buddha would break me out of my writer's block *heavy sigh* you better watch out in the future for other unholy thoughts of mine about him and other ror's charas 🤭

P.S : sweeteries of the sort are NOT safe to use on intimate parts! I just added it here for funsies but you all stay safe out there please <;3

It’s too much, the dash of distance between you and him. Too close, yet so far from one another.

Nevertheless, his warmth overwrites yours like the other times as the man inches closer to your parted lips, a bright smile bordering his own while a strong hand covers your breast altogether. You close your eyes, whiny whimpers clogging your throat.

The differences between you and your partner are too many to count, starting from status and height. To feel him hover over your smaller frame is enough to make you spiral.

But not as much as when he starts to tease you about it.

A gentle kiss on the tip of your nose, then his mouth is a breath away from yours. His earrings jingle as he straddles you, lips curled in a sly smirk.

“Aw, what’s the matter? Too big of a boy for ya, uhm? You want just the tip, petal?”

A shaky sob rips through your chest at the question, eyes flying to stare into the holy ones transfixed on your body. But Buddha is far from being divine, purposely avoiding the mere enlightenment of the mind whenever he’s with you. 

Why indulge himself in that when he can experience such pleasurable things such as your lips coated in sugar?

He takes off his glasses with his free hand while kneading the tender flesh of your tits caged in his other one. He leaves them on one of the many pillows scattered across the room, similar to the ones you are laying on (not a big fan of beds, the both of you).

Buddha grazes your nipples with his palm, hard, and your reaction makes him smirk. 

So needy for me.

“Want me to keep doing it? Ah-ah”, he tuts when you shake your head, out of breath. “Let me hear that cute voice of yours.”

“N-no, I need you here.” you point at your crotch with your eyes, embarrassment laced with desire boiling in your veins. Buddha can feel how wet you are through the fabric of his robes, too, but he won’t let you off the hook so easily.

“Where, exactly?” he whispers, a hint of amusement tainting his voice as his fingers circle your breast and then down to graze the navel. His touch lingers on it for a second then he looks up at you, waiting. 

If you stop talking, he won’t move.

He’s going to be the death of you.

“Keep going, please.” it’s a feeble, pathetic plea the one that reaches him, but he obliges all the same. On his own terms, of course.

The noise of something being unwrapped should startle you, but you are used to it. However, you can’t help but roll your eyes at the sound, especially because you know what it means.

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” “Me? Never.” you stare at Buddha through lidded eyes. Somehow you still have some brattiness left in you, and you use it to your advantage when you raise a hand to his crotch, palming him through the robes. Oh.

You’re not the only one riled up.

His hiss proves you right, and so does the white stick poking out of his mouth: he really popped a lollipop in his mouth. A strawberry flavoured one, to be exact.

Everytime he eats one of them, it means you are going to be bedridden for a while.

Black orbs pierce your soul as he chuckles, “Ah, petal. You are going to be so much fun for centuries to come. My pretty, sweet petal.” 

The tinge of possessiveness in those last words leaves you breathless, but you shoot him a beaming smile he copies right away. He will not get bored of you anytime soon, and you’re far too gone for him to back down now.

The softness of the moment turns into lust as Buddha tilts his head to the side, you gawking at him as he rolls the pink globe of sugar on his lips from one side to another. 

His tongue swirls around it a few times and while he does so, he strips himself of his clothes. — what’s left of them, because the tank top had been ripped to shreds by you an hour ago. 

That stark body of his, every inch of it sculptured and forged by millenia of godly training, is always a sight to see. 

You feel your mouth water and almost choke on it at the sensation of his erection pushing against your thigh. He’s so pleased with your reaction — your body chanting in ecstasy for him is always music to his ears. Buddha rewards you by bending down, lollipop pushed aside in his mouth to capture your lips in a passionate kiss.   

A sudden attack at your resolve to stay focused, not to give in so quickly to him, but it doesn’t work. 

In the haze of the moment you suck on his canines and he moans, gaze roaming your face as he breaks the kiss and sighs out,

“Seems you can’t wait any longer, am I right?”

“I’m not the only one.” you shoot back and Buddha chuckles. Touché.

The arousal between your thighs pools more and more with every clever stroke he resumes to give to the lollipop. You try to rub them together and give yourself some sort of relief, but he's having none of that. 

The deity stares you down, one eyebrow raised. 

For a moment, you catch the glimpse of lilies swallowing his pupils, then they vanish. 

You are unaware of his next move, but he’s not. 

“Budd-” before you can finish, he presses the candy on your lower lip, prying your mouth open until the lollipop falls on your tongue. The taste of him on your taste buds makes you dizzy. 

“Talk to me.”

His lips ghost over your body as he descends, his hands already on your thighs stretching them open. You do so without breaking eye contact, and when the space between your legs is enough for his frame to fill, his hair tickles your skin. Buddha leaves a sticky trail of kisses everywhere he can reach, breathing on them when you suddenly yelp.

He notices it and stares up at you just as you do the same, sprawled atop the pile of fluffy pillows and veils of the bedroom. 

Magnificent, Buddha sighs in his mind and a grin is all he gives away when another warm, clear wave of arousal leaks through your pussy.    

“Do you need me here?” his tongue on your thigh. 

“Or here?”

When he moves again, you almost flee your skin.

“My God yes, right there.” out of reflex, you bury your fingers in his hair as he wraps his tongue around your clit, sucking on it while you yank at the locks, whining. Buddha knows better than wearing it up around you for you adore to see his long, soft strands glide over your body like silken streams of water.  

To your displeasure he stops his ministrations to spare you a puzzled look, as if he heard you say the lewdest of lies. And to him, it is.

“Not God. 

Me.” 

And without missing a beat, Buddha dips his head down to take half of your soppy cunt in his mouth, easing two fingers in you at the same time. 

You arch your back in shock, biting on the lollipop for dear life while the deity between your legs runs his tongue up your folds, humming to himself how sweeter you are than any other candy he ever ate as he fingers your insides, clenching and squeezing him until he scissors them apart. You are not going to take him fully if not fully prepped. 

But it’s not enough. 

“Buddha,” you keen, despair oozing from your voice as he simply coates his lips in your juices, doing nothing more. “I want more.”

He’s quick to respond without looking at you: “You should let go of any carnal desire you have, petal, if you want to achieve enlightenment.”

He did not just say that when he’s knuckles-deep inside you.

You yank at his roots, merciless, and the action has Buddha groan. The grunt goes straight to your pussy but don’t let it distract you from pushing the man’s head backward. When your eyes clash, you whisper through gritted teeth, “Don’t you dare lecture me about carnality when your cock is hard like a rock against my thigh.

How about you fuck me to Nirvana, instead?

Now that definitely stirs him up, and your words sets him ablaze.

Buddha leaves the comfort of your velvety walls and pussy with a sigh, but the emptiness is soon replaced by his hands behind your knees; he hooks your thighs on his broad shoulders, kissing them as you raise on your elbows to better stare at him.

“Mind if I borrow the lollipop?”

You give it to him, confused, until you watch as he takes it and realise what he wants to do. Your eyes go huge in alarm but Buddha carries on amidst your complaints.

“No-”

“Oh, shut up. We both know you’re not so against it when I do this.”

He kisses your knee to make sure you don’t take his words the wrong way and you immediately relax. Above everything, Buddha is a deity and as such, he acts on whims. And amongst his peers, he’s the most unpredictable one.

When he’s sure you’re not tense anymore, his hand still holding the candy lowers on your pussy and you hold your breath. But you almost faint on the spot when Buddha coats the lollipop in your juices, stroking it along your lower lips to capture every droplet. 

That knocks the air out of you for good, and you’re close to hyperventilation when the candy disappears in Buddha’s mouth. 

He’s sucking on it slowly, as if your release is a flavour he can’t stop to have in his mouth. Well, you’re not far from the truth.

“What a good girl”, he coos as he helps you get down on the pillows again, cupping your face the moment he comes up to peck at your lips in adoration. “Lemme taste you a bit more. Come on, don’t be shy.”

You smile, dragging him in another kiss he eagerly accepts.

But then, the world spins and you with it.

When you come to be, you notice you’re laying flat on your stomach, face buried in the pillows. What just happened?

You rise to your elbows once more and look from above your shoulder to see Buddha on his feet, legs slightly open as you watch him pump himself a few times, his own need for you so strong that the tip of his cock is already covered in precum. His gaze, transfixed at the sight of your glistening pussy, darkens the moment he feels your eyes on him.

He’s so aroused he can barely think straight.

“Why are you so far away from me?” you ask with a pout and Buddha sucks in a breath. Veins popping out on his neck, he waits for you to smile at him and when you do, another sigh claws its way out of him.

Not only you motion for Buddha to come back, but to lure him faster you spread your legs as much as you can, giving the man a full view of your cunt clamp, spasm around nothing.

“Fuck.” 

“See? I need you inside me,” you’re eyeing him shamelessly and he doesn’t mind it at all. “Don’t make me wait. Please.”

So the moment he falls to his knees you smile, and he hides his face in the crook of your neck as he pushes a hand on your waist and his cock finally, finally dives into you. He moves slowly to let you adjust to his girth, and you cry in relief with each little thrust.

Every inch of his brush your sweet spots without even trying and you breathe in loudly when he bottoms out. He fills you to the brim just by staying still and Buddha is doing his best to stop himself from rutting into you. He can’t let his cock think for him, too.

But just feeling you clench around him and moan with every love bite he leaves on your neck as you take him and see goosebumps run all over your skin because of it — he’s going mad.

Your pupils are blown with lust when he tilts your head towards him, and he wastes no time in spitting the stick of the lollipop on the floor to grab you by the chin and stare at you dead in the eye. “Tell me when to move, petal.”

Spidery fingers wrap around his hand — yours. A sultry laugh escapes you yet he drinks it in when you kiss him, in line with the alluring way your hips keep bucking into his for friction.

Light green hair washes over you as Buddha complies, and when you moan on his lips as he starts to thrust into you he understands one, simple truth.

You really are the sweetest lover who ever graced Heaven and Earth, and he’s so lucky to have you all for himself.

© azanthys — do not copy, translate or share my works.

#voice of cassandra #record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok smut #buddha x reader #buddha x you #ror buddha #shuumatsu no valkyrie #snv smut #snv buddha

[mizunoyouni]

ੈ♡₊˚•. Pale Blue Melody

· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Pairing - Kamisato Ayato x fem! Reader

₊˚♡⋆˚ Summary - After months of hard work and endless meetings, you and Ayato finally find some quiet time to relax together over some tea and sweets; courtesy of Thoma. It's in that moment you are reminded what it is exactly about your husband that makes your heart swell.

.°˖✧˚ Content - 3.1k fluffy + flowery words, Reader is referred to as "wife" and "my lady" + established relationship. Suggestiveness towards the end, but nothing explicit. Thoma + Ayaka cameo/mentioned. Lots of teasing and banter.

"Let's see... sakura mochi, tricolour dango, berry mizu manjuu..."

Thoma listed each item as he carefully set the plates of food onto the low table in front of you with a smile on his lips. Spring had descended upon Inazuma, dusting the lands in soft pink petals while conducting a symphony of chirps and hums from the wildlife that served as your morning wake up call and nightly lullaby. But with a new season came new responsibilities and tasks to be fulfilled, and you soon found your daily schedule each day was packed tighter than the adorable bento boxes Thoma sent along with you for lunch in between your meetings.

Which had led you to the position you were in currently— sitting comfortably outside, enjoying the sunlight and perfect blue sky as Thoma set up a table full of sweets and refreshments before you. He kept insisting that you sit back and relax while he meticulously adjusted each plate, teacup, and napkin as if this occasion was something akin to his latest magnum opus. Such a display laid out on the veranda was something that had become an uncommon sight in the Kamisato estate, especially with the combined hectic schedules of both you and Ayato often keeping the two of you away from home for days and sometimes weeks at a time as you each tended to your own separate duties. In a way, you were like two birds leaving the nest early each morning to go their own way, only returning home in the dead of night for rest and a quick meal. And needless to say, the change of pace hadn't gone unnoticed by Thoma's watchful eyes.

"Oh, and I can't forget the butterfly pea tea!" The blond housekeeper proudly announced, grinning widely, and you couldn't help but smile along with his contagious happiness.

"It's the new trend in Inazuma City to serve this tea with edible flowers. I thought both my lady and my lord would enjoy it, seeing that you've both been working so hard recently," he explained, clearly invested in the beautiful blue beverage he presented to you in a dainty glass teacup.

And so continued his happy ramblings detailing the herbal properties of said beverage, his search for the specific tea, his failed attempts in brewing just the right shade of pale blue, and his long journey of seeking out the perfect pearly flowers that would adorn your cups of liquid sky. Part of you wanted to suggest that Thoma sell his tea adventure story to the Yae publishing house as an idea for a new light novel, but you decided against it for Thoma’s sake.

"Is that so? Well, I'm glad you're so enthusiastic about it. It seems almost like you've been planning this for weeks," you say, trying not to laugh at Thoma's slightly startled expression upon hearing your words. He was like a surprised puppy— his posture straightening up immediately, his eyes widening, and the tips of his ears turning the faintest shade of red at the realization that he had been caught.

"Ah, well, I just thought that ever since last month, the two of you haven’t been home very often! Even if you both insist that work comes first, sometimes you need a break!" came his hurried response as he shifted in his seat beside you, quickly placing the last of the flowers into your cup in a feeble attempt to distract your attention.

“So you have been planning this for weeks.”

The sound of amused chuckling caught the attention of the two of you, and you both turned to see Ayato in all his prim and proper attire approaching with a smirk gracing his lips as he overheard the admission.

"My lord!" Thoma quickly jumped to his feet and bowed in greeting while Ayato continued grinning at the housekeeper smugly. "I-I... suppose you could say that..."

"I see, so that’s why you kept asking about our weekly schedules lately. You were trying to squeeze in an afternoon tea break for us," you laughed along with your husband, who also found the situation to be quite entertaining in his eyes, much to the blond’s embarrassment.

“We must thank you for this fine arrangement,” Ayato smiled, taking his seat across from you at the low table. “Will you join us for a few bites before returning to your duties?”

Thoma shook his head, his face still tinged with the slightest bit of red. “I’m afraid not. I’m scheduled to accompany Lady Ayaka to Ritou later today, so I’ll need to leave soon in order to escort her there.”

“Ah, a pity, but duty calls. We won’t keep you any longer then.”

And with that, the blond head of your trustworthy housekeeper quickly disappeared from the veranda where you and Ayato comfortably sat in the cool shade of spring, basking in the fresh floral notes and sweet aroma of the generous foods laid out before you. Thoma had truly outdone himself this time, not only in the visual presentation of everything, but also in pairing such flavors together to ensure an enjoyable time leisurely snacking and chatting. It was commendable, the way he had brewed the tea to just the right shade of blue that it seemed to rival the tranquility of the calm blue sky, or the way he had prepared the sakura mochi and tricolour dango that left you wondering if in another life, was Thoma perhaps a sakura blossom spirit? Because how else was he able to capture that soft, delicate hue of pink?

“Quite the dependable housekeeper, isn’t he?” Ayato finally asked after a few moments of watching you observe the fruits of Thoma’s labor.

“He’s always been. Although, I think he’s surpassed any, if not all expectations at this point,” you say with a smile before you take a tiny sip of the pale blue tea that had captivated you from the moment Thoma poured the sparkling liquid into your cup.

“Oh, don’t fall for him now. I might have to fire him if he causes my wife to stray away from me.” There wasn’t a single hint of malice in Ayato’s voice as he teased you lightheartedly. After years of being married to the man, it was evident that he loved to gently poke fun and share hushed laughs with you, rain or shine.

“We both know the Kamisato estate would fall into ruins if anything happens to Thoma,” you quip back, trying to bite back a smile, although your attempt proved rather futile and Ayato was able to catch your wide smile while he leisurely chewed on a piece of sakura mochi.

“Hm… perhaps you’re right. He does end up taking on more responsibilities than your typical housekeeper,” he agrees, feigning deep thought over the topic before he quickly let it dissolve away like powdered sugar on his tongue. “But enough talk about our wonderful housekeeper. How have you been fairing lately? Any personal plans you have scheduled? I could use another self indulgent activity as a palate cleanser from my countless meetings, you know.”

“Sounds like you just want to skip out on meetings,” you point out and you watch in amusement as Ayato throws you a pout before returning to his plate of sweets.

“Would it be such a crime for me to want to spend time with my lovely wife?” came his witty response. His lavender eyes narrowed at you, practically daring you to throw another playful remark his way.

Relenting, you sigh in defeat, your smile still on your lips as you carefully observe the floating flowers in your teacup for a few moments. The slightly translucent petals shimmered and dipped below the surface, dancing in your cup as they performed a private show, just for you. And you had half the mind to just sit and admire its beauty, finding it almost too dazzling to waste on the arbitrary act of drinking.

“I suppose not,” you finally say while Ayato wears a look of triumph on his face. “But if you insist, then I’d like you to accompany me tomorrow as I shop for a new kimono for the Irodori Festival in a few weeks. I want to look my best standing next to you.”

To that, he slightly perked up, interested in your proposal. “Shopping for a new kimono? And you want me to come along?”

“Well, I wouldn’t dream of wearing one my husband finds unflattering,” you laugh, and his lips mirror the smile on your lips.

“We can’t have you wearing a kimono that doesn’t highlight your beauty, can we? I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I let that happen,” he chuckles.

“Hm, you’re almost making me feel like I’m a doll that's to be dressed up and made pretty by you.”

“Doll or not, you are my beautiful doll. And don’t take this as an empty act of lip service, but you could choose to wear a burlap sack and you would still be the most beautiful person I’ve ever laid my eyes on,” Ayato proclaimed proudly, leaning his face against the palm of his hand. If you looked closely, you could see the twinkling in his lavender eyes.

A stuttered breath left your lips as his honeyed words filled you with warmth— the same warmth that had enveloped all of Inazuma for the past month as the seasons shifted and the days grew longer. It’s the warmth that lives inside your chest, keeping you warm and wrapping you in a protective embrace during the nights when Ayato cannot return to your shared bed and lay next to you while you sleep. It’s warmth that gives you confidence and strength on days where it seems that all hope has been drained from your body, lifting up your spirits from the depths of despair. But most importantly, it’s the warmth that fuels your soul, touching your heart and painting it a brilliant blue— proof of your attachment to your other half.

You shake your head at his overly affectionate words, wondering when he found the time to practice such romantic lines in his head.

“And there you go again being so sickly sweet to me…” you mutter as you shake your head.

“As if you’d prefer any other treatment,” he says with a smirk, and his gloved hand holds out his teacup to yours in a mock toast, the dainty glass clinking against each other softly, singing of the bond between the two of you.

“You know me too well,” you admit, and his smirk only grows wider.

“And if I didn’t? The thought alone is too horrid to imagine.”

Ayato chuckles as you smile along with him in silent agreement, not having a single comment to dispute his word. And as a quiet, comfortable silence drapes over the two of you like a soft blanket, you think to yourself that there is hardly any other place in the world you’d like to be in. If only you could have more days like this— a lazy afternoon sipping on liquid sky, enveloped by the sweet aroma of spring, and kissed with honeyed words as they blossom from your husband’s lips. But alas, you knew that this peaceful moment would soon come to an end, as all things would, and your life would return to days consisting of endless meetings you would be stuck in, sleeping next to the ghost of your husband, and longing for spring to return once again. That is, at least until the end of this busy period.

“You know, I really love these back and forths we have,” Ayato finally says after a few moments in a noticeably softer tone. It was the voice he only used when he was alone with you, usually in the comfort of your shared bedroom, away from all eyes except for the moonlight peeking through the window as the only witness to your nightly conversations.

“Because nobody else dares to challenge your word?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as his attention turns to the butterfly pea tea in his teacup.

Swirling the shimmering blue liquid, his eyes darted to the surface of the drink, refusing to make eye contact with you. 

“Truthfully, I’m not a man who is often denied what he wishes for,” he starts. “Even when I became the head of the Kamisato clan at a young age, hardly any of my servants ever told me ‘no.’ If anything, it was more pressure than I could imagine. Because even if I made a bad proposal, many wouldn’t even dare to advise against it.”

Slowly, he lifted his cup and took a sip of the tea, his eyes locked on you the whole time before his lips finally parted from the edge of his teacup and he set it back down gently on the table. 

“So you can imagine my delight to find a wife who can stand confidently beside me. I love that you are your own person. It’s what drew me to you, and I’ll never wish for that aspect of you to change.”

Ayato’s gloved hand found yours and he gently brought your knuckles to his smooth lips, kissing your hand slowly and you couldn’t help but feel your heart skip a beat when he playfully winked at you, clearly noticing how his words had affected you. Years of marriage to this man, and he always caused the butterflies in your stomach to flutter. It made you wonder if by the time the two of you had grown old and wrinkly, would he still be teasing you lovingly in such a lovesick manner?

A soft sigh escaped your lips as Ayato released your hand and chuckled softly at your sheepish expression from his sudden burst of flowery words that threatened to suffocate you. 

“Such sweet words from a man of such high position would cause any onlooker to doubt your image,” you say at last, trying desperately to direct his attention away from the bubbling feeling that was brewing in your chest. 

But to your dismay, his smile only grew as he leaned forward, looking mischievously at you with a smug expression gracing his features before he held your chin between his fingers. You knew that expression all too well— it was the same face he wore during hot pot nights right before he put in an odd array of ingredients, a misfortune that you and Thoma often found yourselves the victims of. Trouble was brewing, you were sure of it.

“And I’d think that if anyone heard of the words that leave your lips while we are in private, oh that would certainly stir up some gossip,” he purred.

“Ayato!” you blurt out and quickly swat his hand away, watching as he bathed in your startled expression as if it was his favorite pastime.

“Oh, don’t deny it, my love. You’re certainly no saint behind closed doors.”

You groan softly at your husband's antics and with shaky hands, you lift your teacup to your lips, desperately hoping a sip of the herbal tea would calm your beating heart and remedy the red that you were sure was dusting your face by now. 

“A-and neither are you. Considering the amount of filthy words that leave your mouth when we are behind said closed doors, the shrine maidens should wash your mouth out with holy water…” you say, willing your voice to remain calm in order to deny your husband of any teasing comments he might think up.

Nervously, you watch as he tilts his head in mock innocence, giving you an amused look that does all but scream that he is up to no good.

“And what of when I do not use words?”

You can hear his hearty laugh as you choke on your tea, spilling a few pale blue drops onto the table before you’re sent into a coughing fit, all red faced and short of breath from his relentless teasing and the bits of liquid sky entering your lungs. You swear your heart stutters, and you see stars for just a fraction of a second, before you resist the urge to reach over and shove more sakura mochi into your husband's mouth to put an end to his teasing barrage that threatened to plant a garden of flowers where your heart should be.

When you finally recover from your coughing spell, you shift your gaze from your teacup to Ayato’s smiling face. He’s resting his chin on his palm now, his pale blue hair framing his face nicely as it always does. His lavender eyes had been trained on you the whole time, watching you with soft admiration. His lips were no longer held in the smirk that was plastered on his face moments before, but rather, they were softly painted with a smile that reminded you of the first snow of winter— gentle, soft, and kind.

In the shade of the veranda, and in the warm spring afternoon, you wonder if maybe you were dreaming— dreaming of the man sitting in front of you, dreaming of the delicious sweets prepared for the two of you by your housekeeper, dreaming of the life you were currently living. And after a few more moments of staring into your husband’s eyes, you wonder what exactly it is about him that makes your heart beat out of tune, skipping around as if it were singing acapella despite the perfectly timed chords resonating inside you. You blink, and he flashes you a closed eyed smile, and suddenly, it hits you all at once. 

It’s the combination of the blue of your husband’s hair, the blue of the Inazuman sky, and the blue of your spilled tea that all string together to form that heart stopping pale blue melody that echoes in your head and guides your heart. It’s those blues that silently put you at ease whenever you feel restless, swaddling you like a child and rocking you back and forth comfortingly. And it’s the same blues that keep you company whenever you are away from Ayato, giving you ghostly kisses in his place until he can return to your side. It’s that specific shade of blue that you always look for in crowds, hoping to find his tall figure somewhere in the sea of faces. Blue— that’s the colour you’ve decided for your new kimono. It’s the colour of the skies that grace your beloved nation, the shade of your husband’s soft hair, the hue of your spilled tea, and the colour that has evidently painted your heart, signaling to anyone and everyone around you that you are a person deeply, helplessly in love.

Yes, that’s it. It’s that pale blue melody that sings of your love for Kamisato Ayato. To others, he is the Yashiro commissioner, or even simply a brother, or a lord, but to you, he is your husband, your lover, and the man who constantly threatens to drown you in his bed of soft blue flowers that he has molded perfectly to the shape of your body. And for better or for worse, you hope deep down inside that this pale blue melody never stops playing as long as you continue to breathe. Because it's one thing to hold your lover's heart close to yours, and other to have both of them beating to the same rhythm during every waking and dreaming moment.

୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ Author's note - Can you tell that I'm hopelessly in love with this man? My first fic, so I hope I've portrayed Ayato accurately... if not, then this is all just my silly little delusion.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x female reader #genshin x female reader #ayato x reader #kamisato ayato x reader #ayato fluff #‧₊˚✩彡 miya writes

[berberriescorner]

"Are You Listening?"

Part Two: "The Breakdown"

Characters: Rio x Black!Reader.

Summary: It's part two, so I’m not tellin’🙈😏!

Warnings: You’re about to experience a plethora of emotions. Profanity, you all know I got a mouthpiece on me, especially when I’m passionate 😂. There is a brief mention of fertility troubles.

Word Count: 5,000+.

A/N: I just wanted to thank my lovelies again for showing this story so much love. I had no idea people would love it this much. Thank you for all the sweet, hilarious comments and asks💓. I hope you all enjoy the roller coaster you’re about to take a ride on 😂😏😈.

Read Part One Here.

Inspired By:

“Listen, no more talkin’. That clown had enough time to come up with all of it. Find his ass, let him know all my money better be ready by the close of business tomorrow. If not, he’ll be a dead man walking.”

Mick took his orders and turned to leave. Rio stopped him before he could turn the knob on his office door. 

“Take those other two useless idiots with you. Everybody else can get back to work. I’m not paying them to stand around looking stupid,” Rio snapped.

Waiting for Mick to leave, he swaggered back to his chair. He plopped down, plucking his glass off the table, gulping the amber-colored liquid. Rio was on his third drink of the night. Slamming the empty whiskey tumbler on his desk, he leaned his head back, running his hand down his face. Alone in his office, wallowing in self-pity. Rio stared at his phone as he contemplated sending another text or calling you again. Thinking about how you had left him on read and sent him to voicemail was eating at him.

“Can’t Keep On Loving You One Foot Outside The Door.”

-Brandy.

Glancing at his iPhone, he mumbled, “fuck it.” Snatching up the cell phone, he tried your number. Ringing twice, it went straight to voicemail. With the sound of the beep, he pleaded his case.

“Come on, ma. Answer my call. Y/N, hear me out. You got this all wrong. Please talk to me.  I’m worried about you, baby. I need to know you’re safe. Call me back.”

“Can’t Keep On Trying If You’re Looking For More.”

-Brandy.

He’d started to tell you that he missed and loved you. The thought quickly pushed out of his mind. He closed off his feelings and left the message as is. Ending the call, Rio Tossed the phone down, making his way to the liquor cabinet. Pouring another drink, he made his way back to his seat. Elbows propped on the oak desk, Rio placed his head in his hands. Trying to rub the stress and tension away, he massaged his temples as the last conversation between you two replayed in his mind.

Four Days Ago

Rio had called your phone twice, but it went unanswered. He figured he had stayed out too late, and you had turned in for the night. His mind kept replaying images of him taking you apart. In all honesty, he was hoping that he could wake you once he made it home. Rio was in the mood for another round. He had been missing the feeling of you, tightly wrapped around him. He mentally cursed himself for being so busy that both of your needs had gone unsatisfied for so long. Taking a break just hadn't been in the cards lately. All his rivals had been itching to take over his business. One wrong move and everything he worked so hard for could be gone. They were starting to play dirty, going as far as to try and harm you. He had spent the past several months sending warnings throughout other territories. The warning? Touch my wife, and I’ll make your whole family feel it. He brushed all that from his mind as he pulled into the driveway. Having been up for nearly two days, Rio didn’t bother parking in the garage. All he wanted to do was shower and lay up under you.

“Every Time You Build Me Up, You Only Let Me Down.”

-Brandy.

Entering the house, he quickly keyed the code into the security system. He noticed that there were still dishes on the dining room floor. Flipping the lights on, he strolled into the kitchen to retrieve a broom and dustpan from the pantry. An envelope lying atop the counter caught his eye.

“I left a note in the hallway. By the time you read it, I’ll be far away.”

-Beyoncé.

“Christopher” was written in bold letters in your handwriting. The words “Hope it was worth it” were printed underneath. Next to it, we’re your engagement ring and wedding band. Rio's eyebrows furrowed, and it felt like his heart stopped beating. He convinced himself that this had to be some kind of joke. He snatched the envelope from the marbled countertop, spinning on heels. He made his way through the house and bolted up the stairs, climbing them two at a time. He froze halfway in the middle of the hallway leading to your bedroom. With the door wide open, he could see broken glass on the floor. He forced himself to make the rest of the journey. Rio entered the room. Hangers were strewn all over the place. Your drawers were left open, and the comforter was slung backward on the king-sized bed.

“What the fuck?”

He knew you weren’t there, but Rio called out for you, hoping he was wrong.

“Y/N?”

Left unanswered, he stepped over all the broken picture frames that once housed your wedding photos. All those memories were mixed in the broken glass on the floor. Dropping down onto the foot of the bed, he instructed Alexa to turn on the remaining lights. Ripping open the Manila envelope, he pulled out several large print photos and a note. His eyes scanned the message.

“Almost Convinced Me Your Gonna Stick Around, But Everybody Knows Almost Doesn’t Count.”

-Brandy.

“May you regret every single fucking time you decided to play with my heart. I must say, I have to applaud you for such a great performance. Here a bitch thought you were committed and holding me down. Come to find out, you been lying this whole time. It was all just a great fucking performance. Why not lie and pretend? You were living it up, having your cake and eating it too. Congratulations, by the way. Tell red she might want to keep her day job. I plan to empty your fucking pockets before the ink can dry on the divorce papers. I never wanted to be this kind of woman. Since you want to play with my heart, I’m going to play with the thing that matters most to you, money. I hope you liked the photos. They sure did shock the fuck out of me. They're the only thing saving you and your bitch from getting lit up like a damn Christmas tree. Haven’t I always told you not to play with me? Bitch, I am not one of them dusty ass hoes you used to fuck with.”

-your heartbroken, savage, and soon-to-be ex-wife.

Rio sat there with anger and confusion written on his face. What the fuck is going on? He thought to himself. Rio tossed the note aside and snatched up the photos you mentioned. His face fell, and it became clear why you left in the middle of the night. You had printed out copies of the text and photos you received earlier that night. He couldn’t make out whose number it was. There was no way you were sticking around after seeing these.

“Fuck,” he shouted, flinging the photos across the room. He bent forward, resting his elbows on his lap. His hands crossed and settled under his chin as he sat there furious.

“How the fuck…who the fuck?” Quickly realizing who might be capable of sending you such bullshit, he growled, “I’ma kill this bitch. Better count her fucking days. As if I didn’t have enough reason to take her out already.”

Rio dug his cell out of his pocket and frantically dialed your number. His calls went to voicemail several times before you finally gave in and answered.

“What, Rio,” you barked.

“Where are you? Come home so we can talk-.”

“Talk? Now you want to talk? Fuck that and fuck you, Rio,” you retorted as your voice started to crack.

His heart ached to hear the pain in your voice. He sensed that you had been crying.

“Y/N, please. You don’t understand. Please, ma. Come back to the house.”

“No! I’m not coming home, don’t look for me.”

“Don’t look for you? You’re my wife! What the fuck do you think this is? You can’t just up and walk out on me.”

“Don’t even try to play the proud husband card. You don’t care about me. Do you even understand the damage you’ve caused? You broke me, Christopher. My heart feels like it’s in a million pieces. I loved you more than my own life,” you sobbed.

“Baby, please don’t cry. Can you please just pull over and talk to me? I don’t want anything to happen to you. Just please pull over.”

“I’m pulling over. Hear me loud and clear I’m not coming back to that house. I’m done with you, Rio. The last thing you should want me to do is to come home. Did you forget that I have a gun?”

“No! Come home, damn it! Hear what I have to say. If you still want to leave after, I won’t stop you. Tell me where you are. I’ll come to you, mama, please.”

“This isn’t going to be fixed. You’ve ruined this for good now. I’m beginning to wonder if any of it was real. Thinking of how many lies you’ve told sends chills throughout my body. Who are you? You’re not the man I thought you were. Ain’t no coming back from this,” you cried.

“I’m trying to get you to understand that it’s not what you think it is. Fuck, mama! Just listen to me.”

“What can you possibly say to justify those pictures? You were super fucking cozy with that red-headed bitch! How can you explain the damn ultrasound pictures, Rio? Those photos are the only thing saving your lives right now! That baby won’t be inside her forever, though. I’ma catch that bitch when the baby drops. It’s one thing to cheat on me, but you knocked this desperate housewife-looking-ass bitch up! You gave her the one thing I’d been hoping and praying on. Tell me, is it because of the miscarriage last year? Is that why you stepped outside the marriage? Am I not good enough? Was I not a good wife? A good bonus-mom to Marcus? Tell me what I did to deserve this foul-ass shit,” you questioned as your voice continued to crack.

At this point, you were bawling so hard it made it difficult to breathe. Rio hung his head as he pleaded with you to take a moment to catch your breath. The only thing he could do was apologize, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, mama.” Over and over again. “I wish you would believe me when I tell you things aren’t what they appear to be, but I know all the odds stacked against me. Not with these photos. Nothing I say is going to change your mind. All I can do is tell you I’m sorry this is happening.” For the first time since Marcus was born, his eyes became glossy as he fought the urge to shed a tear.

The line went quiet for the longest fifteen minutes. Rio was relieved to hear you finally take a deep breath. Your voice was scratchy and raw. You no longer wanted to listen to his broken promises and lies as you spoke with finality.

“I hope you know just how much I loved you. I pray that you know how much I’ll always love you, but this is something I can’t get past,” you whispered. “Never did I think I could hate and love you this much.”

Not interested in giving Rio another moment to waste your time, you ended the call. Knowing how his mind worked, you turned off the location on your phone. You knew he wasn’t going to give up without a fight. Taking a few moments to pull yourself together, you dried your eyes and continued your journey. You headed to the place you hoped he wouldn’t think to look for you.

Having no control of the situation, Rio was becoming more desperate to find you. You were out there, all by yourself. No one was watching over and keeping you safe. He had no one to blame but himself. All this was happening on account of his actions. If only he could find you and get you to listen. Even if that were to occur, how could he get you to understand what was happening? In all honesty, even if he were to explain it, there would still be repercussions. Sadly, in a twisted way, he had fucked up.

Rio had checked your location before the call had ended that night. He spent hours trying to find you, but even with the help of his crew, the search was unsuccessful. It was back to the grind that morning, resuming the search after wrapping up any urgent business matters. Rio tried everything he could think to do. He had one of his men trying to track the GPS on your truck. Only you were a step ahead of him. They had found your vehicle parked at your best friend's house. Y/B/N came stomping outside, lashing out at Rio for breaking your heart. The two of them had exchanged a few harsh words. He bit the bullet and called his mother-in-law. The only thing that had come of that experience was a heated exchange between Rio, your father, and two older brothers. Realizing no one wanted to give him any information, Rio focused on your checking activity. He looked to see if you had used your bank or credit cards. He damn near blew a vein when he saw you’d made a large cash withdrawal. It was enough money to keep from having to use your cards. He had no idea if you’d hopped on a plane. If you had gotten a rental and we’re driving across the country. Three of your close friends each lived in a different state. You could’ve been anywhere by now.

The past four days consisted of long sleepless nights and endless searching. Not knowing how else to find you, Rio decided to deal with something else that needed handling. Pushing away from his workspace, he threw back the rest of his drink. Setting the empty glass on the table, he exited his office. Mick had returned from his errand and met up with Rio in the parking lot. He could tell that his boss was running off very little sleep. Mick could sense that Rio had been drinking dark liquor and knew it was on an empty stomach. Pure anger and rage were evident on Rio’s face and in his eyes. Which only meant one thing. Rio pulled out his weapon, checking the weight and safety.

“I think you should let me drive, boss. I’ll keep an eye on things from the car.”

The gesture was one of the many reasons Mick was his go-to. He never had to explain anything, and Mick was a certified trained-to-go shooter. They hopped into the car and sped off towards their destination. It was time for Rio to get some answers. Someone was going to pay for being dumb enough to send that text and those photos. There was only one person he could think of that would be that damn stupid. Surely she knew this little stunt would be the end of her. He just wanted to know what exactly she was trying to prove.

Rio was halfway out of the car before Mick could finish parking. She had mentioned some sob stories about her husband taking the kids out of town, which meant she was home alone. He had found her lights out on the couch with an empty tequila bottle sprawled out on the coffee table. Seeing her sleep so peacefully pissed him off. Here she was getting a nice rest while he had gone the last four days without sleep on account of her, or so he thought. His anger bubbled to the surface. Rio lunged toward her, yanking her by the hair and pulling her into a seated position.

“We need to have a little chat, Elizabeth,” his voice was cold and calculated.

Still not fully awake and a little drunk, Beth blinked a few times. Her eyes were like giant saucers when her brain fully registered what was happening.

“R-Rio, what are you doing here? What is happening? You’re hurting me.”

“Trust me. It’s going to hurt a lot more, Elizabeth. You’ve been pretty busy, haven’t you?”

“I have? W-what are you talking about?”

“You seriously want to play stupid? Come on, ma. That’s only going to make it worse. Why’d you send it?”

“Send what, Rio?”

He pressed the gun into her chin harder. His eyes were dark as his jaw ticked.

“The text? The pictures of the ultrasound? You’re lucky you got pregnant just in time to spare your life. I’m confused as to why you took it upon yourself to share this information with my wife. What’s it to do with her?”

Rio's face fell at the sight of the confusion in Elizabeth’s eyes. She was telling the truth. Beth was clueless about the entire ordeal. If she wasn’t the one that sent them, who did? Her eyes filled with tears as she was shaking. He could see her playing their conversation back in her mind, trying to comprehend what he was saying. He removed the gun from under her chin, putting it back on safety.

“I can see from your reaction that it wasn’t you. You’re still not completely off the hook. There’s a chance that one of your ditzy friends is responsible, maybe that bitter husband of yours. Someone that knows you did it. When I find out, and trust me, I will. We’ll circle back to this moment, yeah?” Rio’s signature crooked smile played on his lips as he tapped her cheek with the barrel of his gun. You're going to help me figure this shit out. Better find a way to get that beautiful wife of mine to return to me safe and sound. If you don't, all three of you bitches gon’ feel it. Get some rest, ma. You got a lot of work to get to tomorrow, yeah?” He stood straightening his shirt and tucking his gun in his jeans. Beth hadn’t said another word and continued to stare at him in fear. Rio brushed the hair from her face and eerily stated, “sweet dreams, darlin’.” With that, he made his departure.

Rio had Mick take him home. Not sleeping and running off of alcohol had taken its toll. He managed to eat half a bowl of ramen before dumping the rest. After taking a quick shower, he got into bed. Though his eyes were heavy, sleep evaded him. Rio’s brain was preoccupied with thoughts of you. He wondered where you were and If you were doing okay. He was also racking his brain, trying to figure out who outside Beth would be ignorant enough to blow up his life. Reaching for his mobile device, he made one last attempt to call you for the night. It went straight to voicemail, and Rio slammed his phone on the nightstand. Almost immediately, a notification came through. It was a text from Marcus’ mom reminding him to pick him up from practice. Guilt and stress coursed through his body. Rio had to prepare for the sadness your absence would cause in his son's life. How could he explain that he was the reason behind your abrupt departure? Marcus loved you just as much as Rio. Unable to fight the exhaustion, his thoughts led him into a slumber.

The conversation about your absence had been difficult, and Marcus handled it as best he could. Rio had explained to his baby boy that although you left, it had nothing to do with him. He clarified that it wouldn’t change the love you two had for him.

“So is she never coming back, dad?”

The sadness in Marcus' voice nearly gutted Rio.

“I honestly can’t say, but this is all on me. I should’ve handled ma’s heart better. I could’ve tried harder to protect her from outside influences. I just want you to know that she didn’t leave you. She needs time apart from me to think. I’m doing my best to fix it, little man.”

“Do you still love her, dad?”

“Of course I do. Always will.”

Marcus smiled at his father and walked over to him. He gave Rio a tight hug.

“Hope that makes you feel better.”

Rio hugged his son back, kissing the top of his head, “it does, baby boy. Thank you.”

“Hey, dad, would it be okay to call mama Y/N sometime?”

That very question had been like a spark of hope for Rio. You had been ignoring his calls, but he knew you would never refuse Marcus’ precious face. Rio knew it would only make you angrier, but it was the only way he could get you to talk to him.

“She wouldn’t mind at all. She’d probably love to hear from you right now.”

Marcus sped off to retrieve the phone Rio and Rhea (his mom) had gifted him on his last birthday. He ran to the couch, phone in hand, and bounced onto the cushions. Marcus excitedly sent you a FaceTime request. As it rang, the sweet boy crawled onto his dad’s lap to wait for an answer. Only letting it ring twice, you accepted. Your eyes focused on Marcus, and you completely ignored Rio.

“Hi, my sweet baby! I miss you so much, bud! How’s school and soccer going for you?”

“Pretty good. I scored two goals in practice today!”

“That’s awesome. Listen, sweetie pie, I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to kiss that cute handsome face goodbye. Hope you’re not too upset with me, my little love.”

You were doing your best to mask the pain in your voice, but Rio heard it as it made his stomach twist.

“That’s okay, ma. Dad told me you had to take some time to yourself. I’m going to miss you. I hope I see you soon.”

Marcus was on the same page as his father. He sneakily finished saying what he wanted and handed the phone to Rio. You could hear Marcus shout, “love you, ma! Gotta go do my homework. You should talk to daddy for a bit, please,” he begged. With that, the adorable little devil made his exit.

“I don’t have shit to say to you. That’s pretty fucked up for you to use Marcus to force me to speak with you. What the actual fuck is wrong with you?”

“You left me no choice, mama. When are you going to stop playing games and come home love?”

“You’re such a narcissist. Get the fuck off my line, Rio.”

“You can’t even take ten minutes to hear what I have to say?”

“He only want me when I’m not there. He better call Becky with the good hair.”

-Beyoncé.

“No, I cannot. It’s funny that you suddenly have so much time for me. Now that I’m not sitting around waiting on you and believing your lies. You’ve got all the time in the world. Fucking ass. Stop calling me,” you growled, ending the call.

At this point, Rio was starting to become agitated. He understood that he’d fucked up, but you weren’t even trying to have one final discussion about it all. Don’t bitches crave closure? There was so much more to the situation that you didn’t know. He wanted to explain everything, but you wouldn’t allow him to have even an ounce of your time. Rio took a moment to gather himself. Scooping his phone from the end table, he FaceTimed Mick.

“Yo?”

“She answered a FaceTime call from Marcus. We managed to get her to stay on long enough to take screen grabs. Find out if the screenshots can give any information on where the fuck my wife is. I’m not playing this cat and mouse shit anymore. Find her by any means necessary.”

“Got you. I’m on it, boss.”

Ending his call with Mick, he was startled by the doorbell. Glancing at the security camera left him confused. Rio approached the door, his hand behind his back, settling on the base of his gun. He opened the door, and his eyes fixated on a man dressed in slacks and a button-up. The stranger addressed Rio by his full name. He eyed the man cautiously, replying, “who wants to know? Do we know each other?” The man smiled, giving Rio a quick head nod. “You’ve been served.”

Rio barely had time to process what was happening. The papers were in his hand, and the process server was already in his vehicle, leaving by the time it clicked. He didn’t even have to look at them to know they were divorce papers. Not wanting to scare or upset Marcus, he closed the door softly. He did the only thing he could to release his anger with his son present. He went to his workout room and took all his frustrations out on his punching bag. Half an hour later and he was still so full of emotion. He took a swig of water before snapping and launching it across the room. Alone in his thoughts, he pressed his back against the wall and slid down. Burying his head in his hands, he tried his hardest not to spiral, but it was unsuccessful. Rio’s emotions bubbled over as he called you again. It rang once, going to voicemail.

“You’re out of your damn mind if you think I’m giving up that easily. You can keep ignoring my calls but check this out. I’ll never stop looking for you. I can promise you that. Do us both a favor and just bring your beautiful ass home, ma. Sending me papers, I am not Usher, sweetheart, I ain’t ready to sign shit. Never will be. You are my wife. We in this thing for life, baby. I thought you knew. I know it’s hard for you to believe right now, but I fucking love you, mama. How you groan and complain about my lack of communication, yet here you are doing exactly that. Get your head on straight. As soon as daddy can figure it out, I’m coming to get you, darlin’.” Ending the call, he went to do a little searching of his own.

You had only been at your destination for a few hours. Not only had it been a long drive, but being an emotional mess made it impossible to focus on the road. You had to stop to rest and force yourself to eat something. Every hotel you slept in was as low-key as you could get. Your last conversation with Rio had you constantly looking over your shoulder. The desperation and determination in his voice were too hard to ignore. You knew that he was on a mission to find you. That’s why you had spent longer than expected at the stop before. Your mind flickered back to the previous night.

Holed up in the quaint little hotel room, you drowned your sorrows in a bottle of Casamigos. You Swallowed a copious amount of alcohol as your face scrunched at the burning sensation in your chest. You sat on the bed, legs folded with your MacBook in your lap. Fingertips furiously pecked at the keys as you filed for separation. Summer Walker’s “Throw It Away” flowed through the speakers. Earlier, your best friend had called you while driving to check in on you. She had done a little research after you had adamantly declared you wanted to end your marriage. Your friend felt that you were being impulsive. She had taken it upon herself to explain that you could file online. Halfway through the conversation, Y/B/N convinced you to file for a separation. She argued that you didn’t know the whole story, and you agreed. Filling out the proper documents lasted a while. Having completed your task, you took one last swig of liquor and curled into a ball, crying yourself to sleep.

Sitting at the counter of a cute little diner, you listened to the last message your soon-to-be ex-husband left you. Rio’s voicemail made you so angry that your mouth formed a scowl. He was begging for a response, and that’s just what you gave him. Not giving him the satisfaction of calling him back, you opted to shoot him a biting text.

“If you had bothered to open the damn envelope, you’d know they’re separation papers. I was going to take time to clear my head and make a proper decision. Judging by your stalkerish, obsessive, possessive attitude, ain’t shit I need to think over. The papers you’re bitching about now? Go ahead and tear them up. New documents are on the way, my boy! Save us both the hassle and sign them whenever you fucking get them. No need to send a response. I won’t be responding to anything else you have to say. Let this be the LAST time we have to contact each other.”

Rio responded to your text with a photo. It was an image of the papers burning in the kitchen sink. “Did this as soon as I received them. Any other papers coming to this address will meet the same fate, my love.” You thought about responding but were interrupted by someone sliding into the stool next to you. Ignoring the unwanted lunch companion, you tried turning your focus back to your phone. Only the sound of the lunch companion’s voice sent a chill down your spine.

“I must say it’s odd bumping into you so far from home. What are you doing in California? Are you hiding from someone, darlin’?”

Yes, another cliffhanger. Sorry my babies, but I got to keep the suspense going 😜. I know, I ain’t shit 😆😈. Part three is in progress, but I’m working on several different WIP. Be patient with your girl. I hope this lived up to your expectations. It was a struggle to post part two. I tend to be overly critical of my work. Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated. Ask box is open as well💓.

Divider Credit: @firefly-graphics

Prompt Credit: @a-cure-for-writers-block

Tag list:

@4everbrookemarie @nightlywords7 @amorestevens @crimsonheart01 @rio-reid-whoreee @mrsmontanalol @igigix @keaboyd21 @blowmymbackout @my-rosegold-soul @uhlxis @abcdestinyyyy @hihellogoodbyebruh @sunshine-flower @lemmewritesomeish @catxo @naughtyslashers @realhotgurlshit @peaches007 @gardenof-venus @aizawash0e @minton131 @novaniskye @90sisthenew80s @cjricks98 @skyesthebomb @myownworstenemydw @lifeofthelovelyone @tashawar @gabbywontlose @kayla1blog @skelly-baby @adg1115 @blessedboo @fandomcitysstuff @drinaj @being-worthy @sxkxna @whore4-horror @elliesrealgf @pimpsdontcryy @batgurl42 @gotbeefbitch-blog @thedopestblackgirl @nunya7394 @midnightheat @pixieyosi @imjustheretoreads-blog

**Due to some of you guys' profile restrictions, I was unable to tag a few people.

#berberriescorner #are you listening? #series #part two #the breakdown #rio x black!reader #rio x woc!reader #rio x reader #rio x y/n #rio fanfiction #rio fanfic #rio good girls #good girls rio #manny montana #black writer #Spotify

[slxsherwriter]

The Little Wheel Squeals

Fandom: Joy Ride

Pairing: Rusty Nail x reader

Word Count: 1,768

Warnings: None

Author's note: Part one of the Nanowrimo fics that I am attempting. The next part in my Rusty Nail series. Hope everyone enjoys. As always, not Beta read.

A heavy sigh escaped you as the last remnants of glass were swept up and into the dust bin, to be tossed away and forgotten. A reminder that while you were mostly alone out here, you weren't completely alone. Being on your own didn't bother you, after all you knew that Rusty needed to be on the road for extended periods of time. It was just what the job was. Nothing that he could be faulted for or have held against him. You had known that at the very start, plenty of life experience telling you that it was something that you could handle. But it was moments like these, when idiots decided to break in, thinking that no one was home or that the house was abandoned, that being on your own felt a little unnerving and had you longing for the moment that Rusty was walking back through that door.

You had been home this time when the window had smashed, the sound reaching you upstairs, where the knock had not. Immediately, you had been concerned and reached for the bat that had been insisted upon for protection in his absence. They hadn't been a very difficult group to deal with, actually for the most part not looking to cause any trouble. Simply looking for help, which you were happy to give. Even if the one guy in the group caused you to feel uneasy. A feat that took a lot given your typical generous, forgiving nature. Something had just seemed off about him, causing you to keep the bat close while you allowed them to use the phone to call out for someone to pick them up. Their car had broken down at some point miles up the road and they had been wandering since.

The story was believable. It happened more often than not around here since your home was situated in nearly the middle of nowhere. Rusty had told after he had first shown you the house that he had picked the spot because of the land and the privacy. It was an oasis, a place to go away from people and away from the mess of being on the road. A concept that was easy to digest and something that could be understood on a deep level. After all, when your father had come home, he had said the same thing. Apparently though, more stragglers than anticipated tended through the area.

Still, you had taken to the home, not quite moving in but spending far more time at his place than your own, which was technically the next state over. You occasionally would head home on weekends, especially ones that he worked. The old house was not something that you could bring yourself to get rid of and debated asking Rusty to move out with you. It wasn't quite as isolated but it was a piece of paradise all on it's own. The thought of the conversation once again swirled before being tossed to the side for later examination.

Seeing them picked up and head off had a relief washing over you, enough so to make you sag back against the porch for just a second. There was work that needed to be done. Namely, cleaning up the rest of the broken glass and finish patching up what you could of the window until there was a new one delivered. Windows were always a pain in the ass.

As the glass hit the bottom of the can, you were greeted with the sound of a deep rumbling engine. Rusty was home. All the worry from before, the agitation, and concern over the man that had made you feel uneasy melted away. He was finally home.

Moving to the front door to greet him, you watched as his shoulders dropped from where they had been tensed, how his fingers unfurled, hands hanging loosely at his sides for a moment, and a small, genuine smile come to his face. Whether he realized you were there or not yet remained unknown, but you took in the moment to appreciate the fact that he was finally relaxing.

"Welcome home," you finally offered as you moved over without any prompting and wrapped your arms around him. Road grim be damned, you needed a shower anyway.

"Hey, sweetheart." The words came out in that comforting rumble that had you closing your eyes before you could help it. The heavy, familiar weight of his arm dropping to your shoulders was an added bonus as he hugged you back. "Missed you."

"Missed you too. Trip was too long this time." As much as you wanted to agree, there was also a fear of him interpreting it as a concern about his occupation.

"It was a long one this time. But you're home now and that is what matters." You sighed softly as you took a deep breath in. "Why don't you go shower up and I'll get something thrown together for you to eat." You would ask him about the plans for the evening after that, letting him get in the door and truly relaxed after it all. Which meant cleaned up with a proper shower and a good meal that wasn't from a truck stop diner.

"Sounds like a plan to me, sweetheart." He pressed a kiss to your cheek before stepping back. Jacket on the hook and boots off, he headed towards the bathroom, entirely missing the broken window that you still had to finish at least patching up so nothing could get through it and into the house during the night. Both animals and insects. Food for Rusty first.

You were finishing with the little makeshift board when he came wandering back into the room, smelling of his eucalyptus shower gel and something else. Without the hat on, his eyes were clear and obviously focused right on you.

"What happened?" That hard edge that he was careful to keep from you came out. Always the protective one. "And when?"

"This evening. Small group came around, thinking that no one was home. They needed to call for help. Let them use the phone after everything was explained and they headed off maybe about an hour before you got home?" You watched as something changed, the tension in his jaw obvious from the clench. All before it vanished. "It wasn't anything too bad. They are gone and it's over." there seemed to be gears turning as his eyes jumped from you to look around the room. Or a simple method of calming himself down.

"You sure?"

"Watched them drive off myself. Made the one that offered to stay behind for the tow truck go right along with them and had the bat at my side the entire time."

"That's a good girl." The praise sent a little warmth through you but now was not the time.

"Come on, eat your food before it gets cold. Then, can we just watch a movie and fall asleep on the couch?" You just wanted to be close, feeling him against you, smell him. Be encompassed by his presence in every sense possible. Rusty was safety and had been that since he had first picked you up on the side of the road. And you were admittedly still feeling a little off. Not a fact that you wanted to disclose to the man. The anger disappeared after a long second before he was walking over to you and his warm lips met your forehead.

"Course, darling. If that's what you want, that's what we will do."

"Only after you eat." Wanting to make sure he was taken care of, you had to insist that he ate before anything else. He glanced at the plate before chuckling softly.

"How about this? We curl up on the couch, and I eat while having you laying against me?" That impossibly large hand that you loved, pressed against your hip though he didn't move to bring you any closer together.

"I think I can settle on that compromise." Leaning up, your lips brushed over his cheek this time, a gentle affection that you were happy to shower the man in since he did it in return.

"Good. Go turn on the TV and find something to watch. I'll be right there." He used the touch that he had on you to send you off towards the living room. All would be right in the world with a night of snuggling close to your man. You made sure to stop at the closet and grab that worn blanket that was just perfect for the cooler nights. Though Rusty was practically a human furnace. Still, it was fun to have you both under it and cuddled together. It gave that nice cozy feeling that could put you right to sleep, no matter what was happening around you or had happened.

Settling on the couch, it only took Rusty an additional two minutes to join you, a plate of chicken and potatoes piled practically sky high. Oh yeah, he was fine and hadn't needed dinner at all. You could have laughed at the portions, but then again, he was a big man. You pulled the blanket back, knowing that he would need to eat before he could get under it, least anything ended up on it.

There was a relieved groan as he settled back into the worn couch, kicking his legs out in front of him.

"Anything else happen while I was away?" You shook your head.

"No, it was pretty quiet. I honestly thought I was going to get away with no one showing up before you got home from this trip." Reaching out, your hand lightly rubbed the back of his neck while he began to eat.

"Shouldn't have been anyone at all." You laughed softly.

"Kinda hard to be in a spot where no one else exists. We are pretty close for the most part." He grunted around a mouthful of potato but didn't say anything else about it. Neither did you, choosing to let him eat the remainder of the meal in silence.

The plate had barely hit the table beside the couch when he had his arm around you. The familiar weight and warmth immediately had you melting against him, shifting and resting your head against his shoulder. Smiling to yourself, you felt truly at ease for the first time all day.

"Comfortable?"

"Never been better." A low rumbling laugh left him and you felt a kiss pressed to the top of your head.

"Can't say I can complain about a homecoming like this."

#slasher writing #horror writing #slasher x reader #rusty nail x reader #rusty nail joyride #rusty nail #joy ride #slasher fic #slasher fandom #slasher x you

[smellystars]

Get Some Relief

Credit: @theleomars

You came to the bedroom holding a can of ginger ale and some antiacids in hopes of being of help. You placed them on the bedsidetable and laid down on the couch with him, touching his thick thigh to let him know you were there.

“How are you feeling?”

He just looked at you and with a grimace on his face and closed his eyes.

*BBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRMMMMPPPPPT! BRRRPPTT!*

Two rumbles, one larger than the other, shook the bedframe and singlehandedly elevated the room’s temperature. The first one, 8 seconds long and resembling the sound of motorcycle, managed produce the stench of spoiled meat, while the second, only two seconds in length, somehow was warm enough to to undo a few of threads on the the couch.

You had to admit it was partially your fault too. You loved Angelo, but knew people would question you for dating a man with such powerful gas, so you asked him to hold it in in public, especially around your family. You knew very well what that meant once you returned home, he would let it all loose, and possibly destroy the apartment once again.

“I think today is gonna be one of the worst night babe” He said, before grabbing the ginger ale and taking a few sips

You already knew the drill, you quickly got up to to take the picture frames off the walls and try to ensure all glass was on the floor so it would not break from the vibrations caused by your boyfriends fart hurricanes. No sooner did you stand that you were knocked over by a huge invisible force.

*BBBBBBBOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRPPPP!*

His lips had parted to let out a large 5 second belch that had enough strength to know you over along the books on the bookshelf across the room.

“Ahh that’s better” he sighed with relief.

“I am glad my love” you said,regaining your composure and resuming your goal of ensuring the mess that was bound to happen did not get worse. You were comin in and out of the room, trying to put the plants out into the balcony, when you noticed he had his leg lifted into the air, knee touching his chest.

BrbrbrbrbBRBRBRBbrbrbrbrbrBRBRBRBRBBRBRBRBRBbbbbbrrrrrrrrrBRBRBRBRbrrr

A long, bubbly fart fluttered out his shorts, the smell of digested meat only getting more intense even with balcony door open. The sound was loud enough you saw the apartment walls shake a bit, the book you left on the coffee table being blown open and a few of the cars parked outside the building having their alarms triggered.

You saw ripples being sent down the his shorts’ fabric as the bubbly symphony went on for what felt like multiple minutes. Fuck, how did such a handsome man manage to rip such beastly farts? It continued for a few seconds until it came to a close.

“Sorry babe”

“It’s okay babe, just try and hold the next till i get all the plants out, don’t want any more wilting”

“I hope the neighbors don’t complain” Said Angelo with a hint of worry.

“Trust me, if I lived near someone with farts like yours the last thing I would want is to make that person upset” You said, trying to cheer him up.

Once done with the plants you move on to the frames. You two had learned your lesson after a particularly gassy night, where a forty second monster of a fart exited Angelo’s rear end and managed to shake the walls violently enough to cause most frames to fall an break.

As you were in the middle of it you noticed Angelo biting his lower lip, one eye closed and leg raised again, this time his knee digging into his belly.

*bbbbbrrrrr-

BBBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRMMMMMMMMMMMMTTTTTTTTTT!!*

What started out as a small buzz turned into pure ass rippage as the gas rushed from Angelo’s stomach down to his anus and proceeded to make an scandalous exit. The fart lasted well over a minute, with the smell only getting worse. What shocked you the most was the sheer strength of it; however, as it managed to push you against the wall and hold you there throughout its duration.

After what felt like hours, his stinky symphony came to an end releasing you from your suspended prison cracks forming across the apartment walls. “Baby come to bed” your boyfriend spoke laying motioning you to join him on your smelly stained mattress. Before getting into bed you walked around ensuring anything that could fall was removed from high ground and opening every window in your apartment.

“It’s going to be a long night” you said while climbing into bed snuggling with your still booted boyfriend. You start rubbing his stomach hoping to help with his gas until,

FFFFFFRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOWWWPPPPPPPPPPPDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

A loud burst of gas shook the bed and floor and stopped just as quickly as it started. “Sorry” Angelo says as you both drift to sleep in each other embrace. The suns bright rays signals the start of a new day as you turn to look at Angelo’s glowing face. You don’t take a second to kiss him and despite the constant needing the grab the sheets from flying away during the night. You turn over to look at your phone lined with notification.

“Good Morning babe” Angelo says smiling widely while stretching. “Whew I feel so much better now. What are you looking at?” You show him the countless reports about constant shaking throughout the night and a horrid odor that swept the street and currently still lingers. Angelo laughs nervously, “Well, better out than in, right?”

#male farts #malehyperfarts #fart story #hyperfarts