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babeydollx · 2 months

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Jealousy — JJ Maybank

୨୧ Warnings: cursing, smut, oral sex, fingering.

୨୧ Pairings: JJ Maybank x Female Reader

୨୧ Summary: In which, JJ gets jealous of Y/N's friendship with John B after Y/N comes back from a 2 month long trip.

୨୧ Word Count: 1.5k

୨୧ Author's Note: Damn, this was the first fic I ever wrote two years ago, it's fairly obvious by the writing lmao. I am going to be reuploading all of my fics to match the changes I am making to my blog so.

You sat by the fire. Taking in the crisp autumn air around you, you’re happy to finally get to see your friends again, especially your boyfriend. You’ve been gone for two months with your parents because of your father’s work. JJ walks over to you with two beers in hand then passes you one.

“I’m so glad I get to see you again babe..” JJ smiled sitting down before giving you a gentle kiss on your head. You smile and rest your head on his shoulder. “I’m glad too. I really missed this.” You said as he wrapped an arm around you. “Hey! Don’t hog Y/N! We missed her too.” Kiara said with a chuckle as she sits beside you, pulling you away from JJ into a hug. You laugh and hug her back, then look over to JJ. He looked annoyed.

“Ok Kie.. I get that you missed her but, I’d like to spend sometime with my girlfriend. It’s been two months since I’ve got to see her.” JJ said with a sigh. “Oh come on JJ.” John B said as he sat down with the rest of you. “She’s our best friend too, we missed her as much as you did.” “Sorry babe.. looks like you have to share for a little bit.” You giggled softly but blew him a kiss to make him feel better.

JJ chuckled quietly and pretended to catch it in his hand and put his hand over his heart. “Okay I get that you two love birds missed each other, but please, save that shit for later.” Pope said as he sipped his beer. You jokingly flipped him off. That’s how your relationship with Pope worked, you both teased and made fun of each other, that’s how you bonded.

Pope rolled his eyes playfully and took another sip of his beer. “But really Kie, now you’re hogging her, let JB and I see her too.” he chuckled “Fineee..” Kiara chuckled and let go of you, so you went and sat in-between John B and Pope. John B hugged you, gently squeezing. You giggled and hugged him back. John B was your best friend. You had known him even before JJ met him.

After you got a few drinks into you, you were playfully messing with John B. “I- okay is this how it’s going to be? Fine.” John B laughed and started tickling you making you squeal. “I- ok ok.. I’m sorry just stop!” You giggled. JJ watched you and John B laugh and mess around, all you could see in his eyes was jealousy. He didn’t enjoy sharing you, even with your friends and seeing the way you were with John B right now made it worse. JJ looked away from both then got up to get another beer.

Pope, Kiara, and John B had already left so it was just you and JJ now. You were a little tipsy but still aware of your surroundings. JJ was drunk and sitting on the couch, he seemed annoyed. “Baby..? Are you ok?” You asked sitting beside him and took one of his hands into your own.

“Do you love me? Or are you just with me to get close to John B?” He said sounding irritated. “Wait.. JJ where is this coming from?” You cupped his face to make him look at you, worry filled your eyes. “You and John B. I saw the way you acted with him tonight. You barely even acknowledged me.” JJ frowned. Even though he was drunk he was still making sense.

“I mean.. I was with you the second I got home this morning, we were together all day today baby.. and I loved it, trust me. Nothing makes me happier than being with you but, I also wanted to spend time with you and John B, Kiara, and Pope. I missed them too baby.” You said as you frowned a little. “I- I know..” JJ sighed. “I just missed you so much and.. I didn’t want to share you. I wanted you for myself.” He said. “Mmm.. well nothing is new there..” You giggled softly. “Plus.. you wore my favorite bikini tonight. You looked… so fucking hot. I couldn’t even keep my eyes off you.” JJ said as he got close to your ear, his hot breath tickled your skin. “You have no idea how much I just wanted to fuck you.” He whispered.

You bit back a whimper. You could feel yourself getting wet. You then closed your legs tightly. JJ looked down and smirked. “Mmm.. don’t close those legs yet baby.” He said as he spread your legs again. He pulled at the strings on both sides of your bikini bottoms, making the fabric fall off, your pussy now exposed. He then did the same to your bikini top so you were now naked.

JJ studied your body for a moment biting his lip. JJ then tugged his swimming trunks off and stood up beside the couch. You giggled and got onto your knees knowing exactly what he wanted. Your mouth latched onto his cock as you started to suck. JJ let out a low groan as you kept bobbing your head now taking in his full length. JJ let out a loud moan before pulling you up to kiss you passionately. You slithered your tongue into the kiss as he grabbed your waist pulling you closer.

JJ pulled back then picked you up making your legs wrap around his waist and he took you to his room. He walked in, shut the door, and tossed you onto the bed. You giggled as he got on top of you and kissed you hungrily. JJ then kissed down your jawline, then down your neck, and then to your breasts. His mouth latched onto your left nipple as he massaged your right breast with his hand. You let out a moan and gently bit your lip. He then switched now sucking on your right nipple, massaging the left. “mm.. JJ just fuck me already.” You whimpered tugging at his hair.

“Patience Baby Girl..” He said as he kissed down your stomach. He then reached to where you wanted him most. He planted a kiss on your clit. You giggled softly and played with his hair. He then licked up your wet folds. You let out another moan as he began to pump a finger into you while licking your clit. You let out a loud moan and tugged on his hair. “I- mm.. JJ I’m close.” You moaned out.

“Then cum for me baby.” He smirked putting a second finger into you and went back to licking your clit at the same time. You kept moaning out feeling a knot in your stomach. JJ kept fucking you with his fingers faster, he was intent on making you cum right there. You let out one last moan as you released on his fingers, trembling and tugging at his hair. JJ licked your juices off his fingers then put your legs over his shoulders, positioning himself. He decided to tease you a little more first, rubbing the tip of his dick against your folds. “JJ please fuck me already..” You whimpered.

Without a warning JJ thrusted into you easily because of how wet you were. You let out a loud moan and grabbed the sheets. JJ began to pound into you. You kept moaning out and grabbed your breasts squeezing them. JJ grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, his eyes now trained on your breasts. He kept hitting your g-spot now making you scream.

“Mm.. you like that baby? Does that feel good?” He asked letting out a moan. You could barely form words, you were a moaning mess at this point and that turned him on more. JJ let go of your wrists and pulled out then flipped you onto your stomach. He slapped your ass hard before thrusting into your entrance again.

“Oh fuck Y/N! You feel so good!” JJ moaned out going faster. “I- fuck JJ!” You moaned out. “I- I’m close..” You gasped out and you grabbed onto the sheets. JJ slapped your ass again, there was now a red handprint on your ass. You moaned louder until you eventually reached your high and came. JJ thrusted into you a few more times before pulling out and releasing his seeds onto your back.

You giggled catching your breath and laid down. JJ laid beside you and held you close as you rested your head on his chest. “Damn.. that was.. so hot.” He said catching his breath. You giggled and bit your lip. “Yeah.. I missed our sex.”

“I’m sorry for getting so jealous over you and John B. It was dumb and childish, he’s your best friend..” JJ said kissing your head. “It’s ok baby..” You smiled and lifted your head up to kiss his cheek. “I love you Y/N.” He said kissing your head. “I love you too JJ.” You smiled holding onto him tightly. Your eyes slowly fluttered shut and you fell asleep in JJ’s arms.

୨୧ Author's Note: thank you so much for reading, angels!

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tasteleeknow · 1 year

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— make a wish

pairing: minho x fem!reader genre: smut, fluff, established relationship. content: 18+ minors dni. warnings below cut. word count: 3.9k

summary: it’s your boyfriends birthday. you can’t afford to get him much—so you offer him a small coupon book of favours. he cashes in immediately.

a/n: reupload bc of shadowban mess, i'm sorry! thank u so much to everyone who read and gave me feedback the first time, love u for it ❤︎︎

afab!reader. profanity. anxiety mention. pet names. oil massage. unprotected intercourse. praise kink. grinding. breast groping. fingering. possessive behaviour.

You couldn’t afford to get your boyfriend anything for his birthday. You’d considered borrowing some money from your friends. Anything you could afford felt totally inadequate. It was embarrassing. You had been so stressed about it Minho had noticed your low mood. “Just stressed with work,” you’d told him. It was only during a phone call with your parents you’d had an idea. When you were little you’d made your parents small coupon books for their birthdays. Each page would have a small redeemable favour they could use at any time. Things like vacuum the house, breakfast in bed, clean the bathroom etc. When you had no money of your own the little ticket books were your solution. Why couldn’t they be now?

You’d spent the last few days with the small book in your pocket, pulling it out and adding a page whenever a new idea popped into your head. You knew he’d pretend to like whatever you got him. Whether he was actually happy or not, you’d never know. You couldn’t help feeling anxious about it. You’d woken up before him this morning to make him breakfast, fiddling with the small book periodically—second guessing giving it to him at all. You could just tell him his gift hasn’t arrived yet, go borrow some money and buy him something nice.

He sits across from you now, devouring the pancakes you’d made—his hair fluffy from sleep. He’d hardly said anything since he’d woken up, stumbling out of the bathroom and collapsing into the chair—half asleep. You wonder if now is the best time to give him the coupon book, while he’s too sleepy to think too much about it.

“Come here,” Minho mumbles around a mouthful of pancakes, pushing his chair back and patting his thigh. You shove the small book in your pocket and stand to make your way to his side of the table. He watches you approach him, eyes dropping to your bare legs.

You were wearing a sweater you’d stolen from him, some panties and a pair of fluffy socks. Lazy day attire. When you’d asked him if there was anything he wanted to do on his birthday, he’d stretched his arms above his head and mumbled. He wanted to do absolutely nothing at all. You’d thought maybe you could make up for the gift with a trip somewhere nice. Obviously not.

You settle yourself in his lap, thighs across his legs, side pressed to his chest. “Feed me,” he says, a serious expression on his face.

You wrap one arm around his neck, holding yourself against him. “No please?”

“It’s my birthday.”

“So I'm just your personal servant today then?”

“Mm, pancake,” he says, opening his mouth in preparation. Maybe he will like your coupon book. You pull your arm from his neck so you can reach over to cut up the pancakes. His arms wrap around you, keeping you from falling off his lap. You hold your hand under the fork as you bring it to his mouth, ready to catch any spillage.

“Say ahhh,” you prompt, treating him like one of the small children you’d babysat as a teenager. He frowns, leaning forward to latch onto the fork to steal the food. He leans back, eyebrows relaxing—a satisfied expression forming on his face as he chews. “Baby,” you tease, poking his cheek.

“You’re supposed to be nice to me today.”

“I’m always nice to you.”

“Extra nice. Another,” he says, finished with his mouthful. You feed him another, watching him chew. You may as well give him the book. You could always tell him you had another gift coming. You reach into your pocket to pull the small book out. “What’s that?” he asks, reaching to snatch it from your hands. You pull it away from him just in time.

“Be patient or you can’t have it.”

“It’s for me then?” he says, a grin forming on his face.

“Only if you’re good.”

“I’m always good.”

You take a deep breath, preparing yourself. “It’s…not much. I couldn’t really…afford much else so I thought—”

“Give it,” he says, reaching to snatch it from you. He’s successful this time. You hold your breath as he inspects it, snaking one arm around his neck so he can free both his hands. He’s quiet as he reads the small note you’d written on the first page, then he flicks through.

“I can use these anytime?” he says finally.

“Yeah, whenever.”

“What’s this one?” he asks, pointing to one of the pages.

“I’ll pet you.”

His nose scrunches as he pulls a face. “Why would I want to be pet?”

“You love being pet.” You reach up to stroke the hair at the back of his head. “Like when I stroke your hair as you’re falling asleep.”

“Now I have to pay for that?”

“You just get to ask for it whenever you want.”

He’s silent as he flips through a few pages. “I want to redeem this one right now,” he says, ripping out one of the tickets. You take it from him so you can read it.

“Clean the cat litter for a week.” You look across the room to the three litter trays against the wall. “Alright then, your week starts now.”

“Good, I haven’t done it this morning,” he says, flipping through the pages again. “This one, too.” You take the piece of paper from him.

“Return one of your sweaters,” you read.

“I want this one back, right now.” He tugs at the sweater you're wearing. He hadn’t worn it in months, not since you’d stolen it. You attempt to climb off him so you can go change. “No, now,” he says, holding you down.

“This coupon is for one sweater, not one naked girlfriend on your lap.”

“It’s not my fault you allowed the system to be easily manipulated.”

“Let me up a second.” He loosens his grip on you just long enough for you to resettle yourself in his lap, one leg over each thigh—facing him fully now. “Help me,” you say, lifting your arms above your head. His fingers brush against your skin as he pulls the sweater up over your head—dropping it to the ground the second you’re freed. You look down at the pile of fabric on the floor. “If you don’t want that, let me keep it. It’s my favourite.”

“I want it.”

“You’re disrespecting it.”

“It’s mine, I can put it where I want,” he says, leaning back in the chair and tracing his palms up your waist.

“I hate you.”

“Did you really just say that to me on my birthday?” He says, eyes fixed on your tits.

“Do you like it? The book.”

“Mm.”

“Do you really or are you just saying that?”

“It’s already got you naked in my lap, I like it,” he mutters, hands grasping your breasts. You pull them off you.

“Groping wasn’t part of the voucher.”

“I’ve never needed a voucher before.”

“Well, now you do.”

“Is there a groping voucher?”

“Take a look.”

He reaches down to grab the book from the floor before flipping through it. You smooth his messy hair down a little as he searches. “Massage?” he reads. “Can I have a massage AND grope your tits?”

You hold your hand out in reply. He rips the massage coupon out and slaps it on your hand then flips through until he finds a ticket with your scribbled handwriting that reads: ‘1 Coupon to Touch, Grope or Poke’.

“I can’t believe I need to pay for this now,” he grumbles, tearing the page from the book and slapping it on top of the other in your palm.

“One massage with groping coming right up,” you say before pressing a soft kiss to his lips and climbing off his lap. He bends over to grab the sweater off the floor before following you to the bedroom. You lay out a towel on the bed. “Lie down,” you tell him before collecting the massage oil from the bathroom. When you return he’s stripped himself fully, lying back with his hands behind his head. “Did I tell you to strip?”

“The voucher didn’t say I needed to be clothed. You’ve got the oil anyway. You were gonna tell me when you came back, control freak.” He says, smirking at you from his reclined position against the pillows.

“I was going to tell you to take your shirt off, not whip your cock out.”

“You like my cock,” he says, reaching down to stroke himself.

“Don’t fish for compliments, there’s a voucher for that.”

He pulls his hand from his cock, propping himself up on his elbows to look at you properly. “There’s a compliment voucher?”

“Mm,” you confirm, climbing onto the bed to settle next to him.

“How many?”

“It’s unlimited until it expires at the end of the week.”

“Okay, compliment my cock then.”

“I like your cock very much. My favourite cock. Very pretty. Now roll over.”

He groans dramatically as he turns onto his stomach, pulling a pillow down to rest his head on. You climb over him, settling against his ass. You snap the cap off the oil before dribbling a generous amount over his back. He mumbles something, too muffled for you to make out.

You lay yourself down onto him, breasts against the bare skin of his back. “What was that?” you ask before pressing your lips to the skin just behind his ear.

“The oil is cold,” he repeats, clearer this time.

“It’s cold? Poor baby,” you tease, sitting up again and dragging your hands down his back—spreading the oil as you go. Your breasts and stomach are slippery from where you pressed against him. He was right, it was a little cold. “I’ll warm you up, yeah?” you say, hands working the oil into his muscles. He groans as you hit a sore spot, letting you know where he needs extra attention. His muscles flex occasionally as you work, the feeling of them under your hands in combination with the noises coming from his throat make it impossible for you to stay still. The small movements of your hips against him go unnoticed. At least he doesn’t give you any indication he’s noticed.

It isn’t until you’ve reached his lower back that he speaks up. “Take them off.”

You lift your fingers from his skin. “My hands?”

“Panties. I can feel you rolling against me…wanna feel your naked pussy.”

“Shut up.”

“It’s my birthday,” he whines. “Is there a coupon for it?”

“For grinding against your ass?”

“For getting naked.”

“...Yes.”

He lets out a contented sigh. “Best present ever.”

You can’t help it when your lips curve into a small smile in response. “You wanna use it then?”

“Mm, take them off.”

You stand up on the bed to pull them down your legs, leaving you entirely bare minus the fluffy socks on your feet. “Socks?” you ask.

“They can stay. Cute.”

You lower yourself onto him, against his lower back this time. You can’t help letting a small sound escape your throat as your sensitive cunt presses against his warm slippery skin. You resume kneading his muscles as your hips roll against him, leaning down to press small kisses against his neck occasionally. Each time you lean down to kiss his neck you listen to the barely audible sounds he makes, like he’s holding back moans.

“You warm now?” you ask eventually, voice breathy.

“Mm,” he confirms, “Can feel your hot little cunt…so warm.”

“This was a coupon for a massage, and now I'm naked grinding on you.”

“Like I said, easily manipulated. No rules about combining tickets.”

“Turn over,” you say, climbing off him. He sits up, pulling you into his lap. “Let go, I’m not done.”

“Mm? Intermission,” he mutters before pressing his lips into yours. You feel his cock trapped between you, the oil spreading a little from your chest to his. “Compliment,” he mutters between kisses—cashing in one of his unlimited compliment coupons for the day.

“Could feel all your muscles…you’ve been working so hard...”

“Yeah? The gym is paying off then?”

“Mm, can see it.”

“Thank you.” He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’ll lie down now.”

You climb off him, letting him settle himself down on his back. As you reach for the bottle his hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you. “Do you need that?” he asks.

“You don’t like it?”

“I like it, but you could oil me up another way.” He says, one corner of his mouth lifting slightly.

You sigh, giving him a pointed look as you wait for whatever is about to come out of his mouth next. He was completely unpredictable, one of the many things you loved about him.

“Your tits,” he finishes, lips curving into a proper grin.

“What?”

“Use your tits to oil me, they’re all slippery.”

“You…want me to…rub the oil from my tits onto you?”

“It’s my birthday,” he repeats for the umpteenth time.

“There’s no coupon for that.”

“Just because you love me, then.”

“Let me get the oil, I need more.”

He releases your wrist, allowing you to grab the bottle. You climb over him and open the cap—looking up at his face. He smiles. Alright, then. You tip the bottle upside down at your clavicles, letting the oil pour down over your tits. It’s cold. When the oil hits your nipple, a shiver runs down your spine. Minho’s hand comes up to grip your thigh.

“More,” he says, voice breathy. You definitely don’t need more but you humour him, pouring oil until it drips down onto his stomach.

“Enough?” you ask, finally.

“Mm, good.”

You drop the bottle onto the bed next to you and use both hands to massage the oil into your tits a little. His hand on your thigh squeezes a little tighter as you work.

“I’m a fucking genius,” he mutters, eyes fixed on your tits. You huff out a laugh, hands dropping to rest on his chest.

“Should I oil your tits now?”

“If you like,” he says, as if he hadn’t guided the situation exactly where he wanted it. You lower yourself down onto him, chest to chest. “Compliment,” he breathes into your mouth. You slide back and forth a little against him, the slick oil making it easy.

“Needy,” you tease before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Hm…let me think.”

“You need to think about it?”

“You just have too many good qualities. It’s overwhelming.”

“Ah, I see.”

“You make me feel safe…and warm. I get this feeling in my chest when I’m with you, like everything is really okay.”

His arms wrap around you, pulling you down onto his chest fully. “Another.”

“Your eyes are the prettiest.”

“Mm, another.”

“You make me laugh more than anyone else.”

“These are really unlimited?”

“Sure, but the more time I spend complimenting you the less time I have to rub oil on you with my tits.”

“You can't compliment me WHILE you rub oil on me with your tits? It’s my birthday.”

“Is it? You hadn’t mentioned,” you tease, grinning down at him before continuing to spread oil over him with your body. He closes his eyes, biting his bottom lip between his teeth as you work. His hair flops over his forehead, still messy from sleep. One of his hands grips your thigh, the other above his head—resting against the pillow, palm facing up. You reach up to intertwine your fingers with his, his hand warm in yours.

“Kiss,” he mutters, lips a little swollen from where he’d bitten them. You take his hand from your thigh, pressing it above his head to join the other. You hold him there, each hand in his as you taste him. He’s a little sweet from the maple syrup. You can’t help moaning into his mouth, a little overwhelmed from all the different sensations. The warmth of him under you, the slippery oil coating your torso, the slide of your sensitive nipples against his skin, his sweet lips attached to yours, his warm hands in yours.

He detaches his lips from yours to speak. “Is there—” He kisses you again, interrupting himself. “Is there a coupon for letting me oil you?”

“No, I don’t think letting you give me an oil massage is much of a gift.”

“Well, I do,” he says before wrapping his arms around you, flipping you under him. You felt like you’d been holding his hands to the bed pretty firmly. Apparently not. He’d pulled himself free without even a hint of struggle. His dark hair hangs down over his eyes. You reach up to play with it just before he sits back and grasps each of your tits.

“So slippery, hm?” he whispers, eyes fixed on where his hands grope you—kneading each breast thoroughly. He’d always had a fascination with your breasts, groping them whenever he had the chance. You’d often hear the bathroom door open mid shower, your boyfriend joining you. He’d lather up his hands with body wash, insisting on massaging each breast—completely fixated on them until you eventually guided his hands elsewhere.

You wrap your hands around his wrists now, prompting him to look up at your face. “I’m slippery elsewhere, too,” you say, guiding his hands down your stomach slowly. He pulls away so he can move down the bed and push your legs apart—settling himself between them.

“Here, baby?” he asks, one finger gently brushing against your wet cunt. You suck in a breath, already sensitive from grinding against him. His finger brushes up and down through your folds gently, like he’s never touched you before. You close your eyes, basking in the feeling of his soft caress. You're so blissed out you nearly jump out of your skin at the cold oil he pours over your cunt. Apparently you’d been so out of it you hadn’t noticed him reaching for the bottle.

“Co-Cold,” you stammer out, back arching off the bed slightly.

“Yeah? Poor baby,” he teases, mimicking your words from earlier as his fingers find you again—much more confident this time. He spreads the oil over your mound, then his fingers move down through your folds, massaging the oil over your cunt thoroughly. “So pretty,” he mutters, just loud enough for you to make out.

You struggle to stay still, squirming as he plays with you. It isn’t until he presses his long fingers inside you, the other hand working circles on your clit, that you let go—back arching off the bed as you whine his name. He works you through your high, wet sounds filling the room as he fucks you with his fingers.

He climbs over you as you attempt to catch your breath, panting into his mouth as he kisses you. So sweet.

“Do I need a coupon to fuck you?” he whispers against your lips.

“No,” you breathe out, “you can do that just because I love you.”

The tip of his cock kisses your sensitive cunt as he mutters against your mouth. “I want to hear compliments as I fill you.” You nod, struggling to offer him a verbal response. “Use your words,” he prompts.

“Yes…compliments…move, please.”

He presses forward, his tip spreading you open. Your mind blanks, as it always does when he enters you. As he knows it will. Your mouth falls open, brows pulling together. “Compliment,” he says, not pressing in any further.

You take a deep breath, looking up into his eyes. “So—So big, always so hard for me,” you manage to breathe out. He offers you a small smile before pushing into you a little more, the oil helping him spread you open. He drops his head into your shoulder.

“Another,” he says, lips moving against your skin.

“Stretch me open so well, feel so full of you every time. Wish you were inside me always, just like this,” you say, threading your fingers into his hair. You hold him against you as he begins moving, pressing his body into yours. He quiet as he fucks into you slow and deep, much slower than your used to. He usually liked it fast and hard, holding your hips up off the bed so he could use your cunt like a toy. He’d fuck you like that most nights, biceps flexing as he held you up. It wasn’t until he’d filled you that he’d melt, everything about him softened as he helped you reach your high—either with his fingers or his mouth.

“Tell me your mine,” he mumbles into your neck now. Slow, deep strokes of his cock splitting you open.

“Of course I’m yours,” you answer, fingers stroking the back of his neck gently. “Just like your mine, right?”

“Mm,” he confirms before his lips attach to your skin properly, sucking a mark into your neck. You savour the feeling of him filling you as he works on marking your neck, the movement of his hips speeding up a little. When he finally detaches from your neck, you expect him to sit back—to start fucking you like he usually did. Instead he moves his head to the other side of your neck so he can begin marking you again. By the time he’s finished this one his hips are moving erratically, signalling his end. He hovers over you, breath mingling with yours as he pants.

You keep your eyes locked on his as he comes, loving the expression he makes as he fills you. You reach up to grab the back of his neck, pulling his mouth to yours as his hips stutter against you, a final moan slipping from his lips.

After returning from the bathroom you find Minho quietly flipping through the coupon book, inspecting each page properly. You settle yourself against him, head resting against his chest. “What does this one mean?” he asks.

“Read it to me.”

“Make a wish.”

“That’s a free for all. You can ask for anything.”

“Anything?”

You chuckle, hand lightly patting his stomach. “Nothing that’ll get either of us arrested…or killed.” Or cost more than I can afford, you add silently.

He says nothing. You imagine his brain running through every possible thing he could ask of you. You imagine him asking to adopt another cat or make you come to the gym with him everyday. Every now and then you’d tag along and watch his workout. He said it was motivating. You close your eyes, nuzzling against him a little. Then the sound of paper tearing breaks the comfortable silence and he tucks the ticket into your hand.

“I want to use it now,” he announces.

“You sure? You only get one.”

“One a year.”

“You want the same gift again next year?”

“It’s a good gift.”

You don’t hold back your smile, your face hidden from him. You believe him. He actually likes it. “Alright, what’s your wish this year then?”

He’s quiet again. His hand rests on top of yours, the ticket tucked safely under both your hands. Finally, he speaks again. “Marry me.”

please reblog and share your thoughts. caption, tags, replies, or ask box, i read it all. feedback is what motivates me to write more!

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satorubi · 1 year

Text

NEEDLE N THREAD — FT NANAMI KENTO & FUSHIGURO TOJI

༄ a threesome with your colleagues leads to a very sticky situation.

♱ CW - f! reader, threesomes, big cock nanami and toji, doggy, missionary, double pen, usage of profanity, usage of pet names such as baby/love/sweetheart, use of the word bitch but only once, <> word count - 1.5k <> notes - hi hi, this is a reupload bc there are some opps in the building. pls yall i swear i don’t mean any harm </3 i wrote this in one night & @venusflytrapstar is the one to blame.

toji and nanami were good at their craft.

saving lives daily wasn’t exactly the dream job for some, but to them— it was. there was no better feeling than finishing up a patient, stitching them good as new and seeing them exit the facility with a smile on their face.

and that’s why you adored your colleagues.

toji and nanami had been there since you first began as a pre-med student, already having their lives set at the hospital when you arrived a few years ago. you adored their dedication, work ethic, and abilities just as much as you adored saturday nights.

the nights where not only toji ruptures your insides, but nanami doing the same right after him.

“god-fuckin’ damn, pussy’s so tight. like havin’ both of us fuck you senseless huh?” toji grunts, his cock plummeting into you slowly but deeply as nanami stuck his tongue down your throat.

every time the weekend rolled around, you wondered if it was a dream. to have two handsome men fucking you whenever you asked while also being professional outside of closed doors really got your tummy fluttering. it was something ravenous and exciting about the mischief of it all.

to be such persistent individuals, they were sloppy in bed— fucking you back to back as you mess up the sheets of whoever’s home you’d decided to get pounded at next; this time being nanami’s. the three of you currently having the time of your lives in his living room, ruining his brown leather couch cushions as your pussy contracts around toji’s cock for the second time tonight.

“she’s so pretty— such a slut for us, all for us,” nanami praises, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat making you gag. they were both fucking huge and shoving their cocks into you as if they weren’t was a mix of pleasure and pain, but you wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.

“nurse y/n, who knew you were such a fuckin’ whore? look at how this pussy’s fuckin’ me back. bet you think about us while you’re with patients, huh?” toji teases, his tip repeatedly hitting your gushy spot. nanami picked up speed while fucking your throat, his hands holding both of your cheeks. the gagging and queefing of your pussy and mouth had them both going insane.

sometimes you wondered if this would ever escalate to more. it was against protocol and way outside of the employee handbook, but the dick was just too good to pass up.

“such a fuckin’ goddess. love fuckin’ you, baby.” nanami says, caressing your cheek when he pushes his cock to the back of your throat— you choke, but you take every inch. with a gag, he pulls out of your mouth completely, leaving a string of saliva connecting from his cock to your bottom lips.

not too much. fuck is he callin’ her that for? he thought. to toji, there was no reason to. you were all just friends who fuck— well, at first.

it was at that moment you could feel toji fucking you harder. his rough hands gripped at your ass and rolls as he fucked you from behind, watching you clap back against his pelvis. he could cum right now, but he couldn’t help but to feel a small bit a jealousy bubbling inside of fim.

after multiple months of getting to know you and stretching you out, both toji and nanami could say that they’d never felt this way with anyone before— no one other than you. but that was the thing, they couldn’t both have you, not unless it was like this.

“i..i’m cumming—fuuuck yes! fuck me like that, oh my god,” you moan, not missing the way toji’s pace went from steady to rough. with a few more thrusts, you began to coat him like glaze on a donut as he guided his dick in and out of your hole.

“good girl. you’re a sexy little bitch aren’t ya’ ?” toji mumbles, his palm meeting your ass cheek leaving a sting. you giggle, averting your attention from nanami’s eyes to looking behind you at toji. you reached back and put a hand on his stomach and clawed at it with your nails.

“c’mon, toji. wanna’ feel it all, daddy,” you encourage, hearing an annoyed sigh come from nanami. you swore they acted like two envious school boys when it came down to you.

“shit, cummin’, i’m cummin’ for you, baby. where do ya’ want it babydoll?” all it took was for you to say the words in me to have toji spurting his cum into your belly. from the corner of your eye, you could see nanami roll his tongue on the inside of his cheek, removing his glasses and making his way behind you.

nanami have toji a tap on the shoulder and uttered, “move,” in a low tone.

“the fuck are you gettin’ mad about?” toji questions, slipping his dick out of your pretty little hole that just aches for more dick. nanami said nothing, he only gave toji a rather unpleasant expression. surprisingly, toji didn’t argue. instead, he moved over to the side and allowed the impatient man to take his position behind you.

“someone’s jealous, eh?”

nanami grunts, flipping you over onto your back so he could see your beautifully fucked out face, “fushiguro don’t start with me—“

“kento, don’t forget who fucked her first,” toji winks, making nanami knit his brows— chest heaving up and down with agitation. before it could get too routty, your soft voice could be heard from under them.

“hello? can you both shut the fuck up and fuck me already? geez, you act like children,” you sigh. nanami sends toji one last glare before readjusting his focus on you— the pretty angel who had no idea she was setting their hearts on fire.

“i’m so sorry, darling. forgive me,” he whispers, kissing at your neck before toji stood before you— cock hovering over your face creating a shadow.

“kiss ass,” toji mutters.

the minor setback only had your attention for a brief moment as nanami entered himself inside you. you loved how different they both felt. toji was on the bigger side, his cock stretching you out in ways you could never imagine, leaving you begging him for more. where as nanami had length. he was able to reach your spot within seconds of thrusting, sending you over the edge rather quickly.

“jesus, you’re so fuckin’ tight sweetheart,” he groans, stray pieces of blond hair sticking to his forehead as he kept a slow and gentle pace. toji on the other hand, gave you a small moment to get use to the feeling between your legs prior to fucking your face.

“open up, sweet thing,” toji says and you oblige. with your mouth stretching as wide as it could, you tried your absolute best to fit him all the way in, gargling on his cock as his balls slapped against your forehead, “aah—shit, love this fuckin’ throat. takin’ us so well, and at the same time too.”

“and this cunt too,” nanami adds, “never get over you. can’t believe you feel this good, love.”

love. you’d be lying if you said their words didn’t make you want to cry and cum all at once but here you were, taking the two men you admired and cherished the most— unable to call them yours. but deep down inside, the three of you knew the connection was endless. no matter how many times they’d remind themselves of the rules created beforehand, the feeling of your pussy around them had the two men drawn to no one other than you.

the familiar sensation in your stomach had you moaning and whimpering as the two men continued to fuck your holes. noticing your change in movement, nanami reached out to intertwine his hand with yours. a few moments after, you could feel toji doing the same, grabbing the hand that nanami hadn’t, both of them holding onto you and letting you know that they were ready for your explosion.

the intimacy and warmth that they were giving you took you there, toji removing his cock from your mouth and nanami picking up speed, “fuck i’m cumming a-again— ooh! please, please, please— it feels so good!”

“you heard the lady nanami, make that pussy cum,” toji chuckles. as if it were on command, you cunt suckled at nanami’s cock, pulling him right along with you as you reach your climax.

“cum baby, cum for me—please, i’m gonna’ cum with you,” he grunts, squeezing your hand a bit tighter. after a few more sloppy thrusts, you and nanami had cum together.

“there you go, good girl,” toji says, kneeling down to kiss your cheeks and neck. your tits jiggled with every breath you took and your mind was fuzzy from the moment. neither of them had let you go yet, both of their hands still holding on to yours and nanami’s cock still keeping warm inside you.

“that was…fuck,” nanami sighs, watching as toji’s thumbs wiped away the tears that’d escaped your eyes earlier tonight.

after cleaning you up and dressing you in one of nanami’s clean shirts, you could be found resting in the bedroom as the two men talked amongst themselves in the kitchen.

“so when are you gonna’ tell her how you feel?” toji asks, breaking the still silence of the room.

“i don’t know…when are you?”

once again, special thank you to the lovely @venusflytrapstar !!!!

#☆彡saturn writes :)#HELLO HELLO AGAIN #sorry for reposting #got flagged the first time #nanami x black!reader #toji x black reader #nanami smut #toji smut #toji x female reader #toji x reader

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justlikemebutsixfootthree · 1 year

Text

the birthday party -

pairing: matty healy x f!reader

content: friends to lovers, explicit consent, george is a good friend, matty eats pussy, safe sex, denise, p in v sex

wordcount: 6787

this blog is 18+. minors, do not interact. this blog is a safe space. no hate or disrespect of any kind will be tolerated. all work is my own. do not reupload my work on any other site without my consent.

a/n: matty healy, you will always be famous <3

maybe it shouldn't bother him as much as it does. after all, it's just another day.

but it's his birthday. it's his fucking birthday, and there are no messages from you lighting up his phone.

at first, matty tried to convince himself that it was nothing. he had woken up and expected an all-caps message, only to be met with the god-awful time of 5:00 am. but it was okay - it was early, so you probably just want to wait - to ensure that he's awake to see your message.

so he waited.

he waited through bleary eyes - surrounded by his concrete walls and his white comforter - until his alarm sounded and jerked him awake.

a rush of disappointment shattered his bones when there was no message from you. no ‘happy birthday,’ no ‘good morning,’ not even a ‘hey.’

but still, it's okay. matty went about his morning, taking phone call after phone call from family members he hadn’t heard from since last year, pretending there wasn’t a hole in his heart where you left a dent. his mom texted him once; something about going over for a party and celebrating his birthday there with his family and bandmates, and that was it.

he spends the rest of the day picking at the pancakes george made him and tries desperately to ignore your silence.

so yeah, it hurts that you didn't text him, and he's starting to think that maybe it's not okay. because you're his best friend, and you didn't even have the decency to wish him a happy birthday.

there's always been something between the two of you; dotted lines that make it hard to walk or see straight whenever you're together, usually bickering about god knows what.

george says you love him. matty flicks his forehead until he drops it.

because how could someone who loves him forget his birthday?

he feels selfish - feels like shit wishing for something other than the health and clarity he was brought up to be thankful for on his birthday.

and you still don't text him.

it's only a couple of hours later when george's air conditioning hits his face with full power, eyes watering slightly with the artificial wind blowing right into his cornea. they’re on the way to his mother’s house, and matty is bracing himself for the onslaught of aunts with their strong perfume and uncles with their disapproving looks. beside him, george hums from the driver’s seat, a clear indication he can sense matty's heedlessness.

"alright, that's it," george says, turning down the music dial until barely audible guitar strums resonate in the car. “you’ve been moping all day. what gives?”

matty shrugs. "nothing, mate."

"bullshit."

george’s eyes are switching between watching the road and glaring daggers into matty's.

“it’s your birthday, and you’re acting as if someone just killed your snake. so i ask again,” george mutters as he flicks on his turn signal, pulling off the freeway to evacuate the sanctum of subdued car horns and merge into the exit lane. “what gives, matty?”

"it’s not a big deal,” he starts, interrupted by the forced chuckle that resounds beside him. he continues when the light turns green, george slowly letting off the breaks as they near his mom's house.

“i mean, i guess it's just, like, i dunno. i thought that—” he cuts himself off, lost in his head. matty stumbles over his words, a mess of broken syllables as he runs a nervous hand through his hair, messing up the mop of curls.

“she hasn’t texted me today.”

it’s rushed, a lick of shame and embarrassment crawling up his spine as the frigidity of the air conditioning meets his neck. the car is cold, chilling matty's bones with gentle fragility until they freeze and shatter like glass. he bleeds shame, every ounce of blood in his body tainted with the reminder that you forgot.

george's breath hitches, and he clears his throat with a fist over his hand as the other one turns them into a familiar street.

his mother’s house appears in his peripheral vision, the front porch light emitting a timbre, yellow glow, and he can see shadows through the large kitchen window.

matty picks at his nails, messing with his fingers as george parks the car. he can feel watchful eyes on him when he stares down at his lap.

george turns in his seat so they’re forced to face each other. “she didn’t text you at all?”

“not since last night.”

he unbuckles his seatbelt and places a hand on the door handle. he's stopped, a tug to his arm keeping him in place and not permitting him to leave the car—leave the conversation.

“hey,” george starts, voice low and with a lilt of concern tracing the lone syllable. “i’m sure she’s got a good reason. she wouldn’t just forget your birthday.”

matty scoffs, shaking his head until strands of dark hair fall in his face, blowing upwards so he can see again. “what reason?”

“i don't know,” he says, all one breath and fidgety when he unbuckles his seat belt. “but whatever it is, i’m sure she has a good excuse.”

there’s a squeeze to his shoulder, warm fingers emitting heat where they touch his skin through smooth cotton.

“you’re too young to be going through a midlife crisis over the girl you love not texting you for twenty-four hours.”

matty doesn’t have the energy to argue, not when he knows that his friend is right.

so instead of arguing, he smiles and punches george in the arm for good measure before they head down the paved walkway to his childhood home.

his mother greets him first, halfway through his third knock because she expected them over earlier. despite the squint in her eyes, she pulls her son into a tight hug, rubbing comforting circles into his back.

“happy birthday, dear,” she sings, muffled by his chest as she stands nearly half a foot shorter than him.

“thanks, mum.” he smiles, moving aside so george can get engulfed in a hug.

he’s missed it here, the warmth that bubbles in his stomach when he’s around his family, a house full of love and people that he grew up with. it’s almost enough to make him forget about a certain someone who still lingers in the back of his mind like day-old leftovers.

almost.

“so!” his mother beams, stepping back and allowing the boys to remove their shoes and step deeper into the house. “everyone is already here, and they can’t wait to sing you 'happy birthday'.”

matty’s led down the hallway, following his mom into the kitchen. a rumble of deep-set voices and squeals call his name, and his head turns to watch distant relatives scramble to pull him into tight hugs.

he kisses his grandparents on the cheeks, hugs his aunt and uncles and tells his cousins that he missed them. they pass him presents like he’s five again, smaller gifts to unwrap now that he’s an adult and no longer asks for life-sized action figures. george joins him, staying close with a timid smile on his face as he mingles with matty’s family. the whole scene coaxes a content sigh to escape his lips, and he relaxes when his mom gives him another hug.

“i got you something too,” she whispers when they pull apart, leading them into the living room and passing him a glass of wine. they sit, lively music wafting through the speakers, and he smiles as he watches george twirl his cousins around. “it’s not here yet though, i’m afraid. you’ll have to wait a little longer.”

“you didn’t have to get me anything, mum,” he says through the bitter taste of merlot.

she waves her hand dismissively. “oh stop it. you’ll love it, i promise.”

he tries to enjoy the party—really, he does. but thoughts of how much better it could be if you were here to enjoy it with him linger in the back of his mind. it’s tough to decide whether he should miss you or be mad at you. maybe he should forget you all together right now but he can’t. not when his brain is growing fuzzy and his cheeks feel warm, patches of crimson surely paint his face, thanks to the glass he downed in one go.

“matty, come do a shot with me!”

with a huff, matty makes his way toward his friend who holds a shot glass nearly overfilled with clear liquid.

george’s grin melts away when he sees him, eyes filled with concern as he hesitantly passes the shot to matty.

“you okay, mate?”

matty clears his throat and mumbles something about allergies and how it’s stuffy in here as cool liquor spills over his fingers. george doesn’t seem to buy it, but he shrugs anyways.

he shakes off the mist clouding his brain and smirks, self-indulgence taking over his dark eyes. he clinks the glass to his friend’s, liquid sloshing off the sides before he tips it back. it burns when it runs down his throat, leaves his tongue dry in a desert of twisted intoxication he knows he’ll regret in the morning.

“shit,” george hisses through his teeth. “‘ forgot that i fuckin’ hate vodka.”

matty laughs, and there’s silence between them for a moment, then, “mate, are you sure you’re okay? ‘cause, not to be an arse, but you look fuckin’ horrible.”

exasperated, matty runs his hands through his already mussed hair.

“i’m gonna go get another drink.”

a calloused hand wraps around his wrist and stops him from pulling away. “maybe you should ease up on the booze,” george says.

“aren’t you the one that was just begging me to do shots with you?”

“that was before you turned into a sad drunk. here,” he shuffles around for a water bottle, “drink this and go get some air—maybe a smoke, too, while you’re at it.”

grinning, matty takes the water from george’ hand with a simple “thanks.”

he sneaks away to the back porch where crickets chirp quietly in the grass—a change from the loud commotion of music and chatter.

lithe fingers bring a cigarette to chapped lips, thumb slipping on the lighter to invoke a small flicker of flames that burn the end of the bud.

with an inhale, matty wonders if his room looks the same as it did that last time he was here; if his brother had claimed any of his clothes or knick-knacks he’d left when he moved out. he wonders if you would find his room childish.

with an exhale, he wonders how his thoughts always seem to trace back to you.

“what have i told you about smoking, matthew?”

“i have a good reason.”

his mom wanders her way next to matty, leaning against the fencepost next to him. “and what might that reason be, love?”

“her,” matty breathes, the smoke from his lungs floating into the distant air. “fuck, mum. it’s always her.” he pauses to take another drag. “she hasn’t texted me all day, and i’m worried about her getting hurt or somethin’.”

denise smiles, and from the corner of his eye, he sees her turn back to the door of the house. he doesn’t follow her motions.

“i’m sure she’s fine, sweetheart,” she says, turning back. “you’ll hear from her soon.”

“but—”

she elbows matty’s side. “no ‘buts’. now, i think you should put that out and come back inside, okay? that stuff is bad for you.”

“soon,” he says, completely ignoring her request, and she sighs, giving her son a final nudge before stepping back inside. matty doesn’t spare her a glance, opting to keep his eyes trained on a black, starless sky.

the familiar buzz of red wine floats through his bloodstream, and he draws another hit into his lungs, filling the void of sadness with grey smoke. he almost thinks he’s hearing things when someone speaks from behind him.

“she’s right, y’know.”

the exhale of smoke comes out in a choked gasp, and his heart stutters, chest tightening.

matty’s scared to turn around. scared to face the cause of his well-being, because there’s no way this can be real. his lip is worried between his teeth, hair falling into his face as he stares at the cigarette laced between his thumb and index finger.

the open wound you left in his heart this morning is sealed by the resound of your voice that echoes through the air.

he doesn’t turn around. you do it for him.

matty’s forced to face you with a pull on his arm, skin tingling where your hand rests. the cigarette is plucked from his fingers seconds after, the stub dropping to the ground where you step on it to put it out.

“hi,” you say, completely and utterly exhausted. “happy birthday.”

the closeness is suffocating.

you’re standing too close but somehow too far away, and matty would pull you into him if it weren’t for the frozen state of his bones.

“hi,” matty breathes, eyes glossy with unshed tears as he stares down at you.

it’s surreal—standing here with the lingering taste of tobacco and merlot heavy on his tongue—the gentle breeze blowing tufts of your hair.

“what are you—w-when did—” matty stutters, mind running a mile a minute, intoxicated brain took over with perplexion. he stops, takes a deep breath, and collects his thoughts. “how are you here?”

“well,” you drawl, shuffling closer to the stunned man in front of you. “your parents bought me a ticket to fly out for your birthday—per george’s request. after that, all i had to do was keep it a secret, hop on a plane, and here i am.”

“here you are?” he repeats. “you had me worried sick. you didn’t text or call—hell, you didn’t even wish me a happy birthday! you can’t—you can’t just waltz in here and pretend that everything is fine when you put me through—”

“matty,” you interrupt, grabbing his hands. “calm down for me, yeah? breathe.”

“no—what? don’t just-”

he pulls away and leans back against the fence. his hands run through his hair, fingers desperately wishing they were holding a cigarette.

“breathe, matty.” you sigh patiently. “how about you give me a tour?”

“can we just … stay here for a while?” he asks, and if there’s tension in the air, it’s ignored. “i just want to make sure i’m not dreaming, or something.”

“you dream about me?’ you tease, crossing your arms to try and shield yourself from the breeze.

dark eyes slowly meet yours.

“all the time.”

he pushes himself off the fence and steps closer to you. the boots he’s wearing give him some height, so he’s looking down at you as his hands move to push your hair back.

“tell me,” you whisper. “tell me what you dream about.”

it’s the urgent tone of your hushed voice that has matty caving—hesitancy swept away with the wind as he gives in, letting his hands trace the sides of your face.

“everything,” he admits, voice quiet and shy. “fuck, love, i dream about doing everything with you. anything and everything you’d want me to.”

you’re silent.

you’re silent, and matty is losing his mind, brain pounding against his skull. he can feel bitter bile rise up his throat, nauseous when he looks back at you—just standing there—lips parted and leaving matty to lie in the grandeur of his own self-destruction.

there’s already an apology forming on his tongue, the fingers that were wound through your hair curling away.

but you step closer and grab his hands, stopping their retreat.

“i dream about it too.”

the words take matty by surprise, the tenderness that coats the revelation alleviating the shake in his hands. he looks at you—really looks at you—and scrutinizes the expression on your face.

he finds no hint of a lie; no hint of cruel duplicity, or fraud. the truth of your words really sinks in when you drop his hands in favour of running the pad of your thumbs under charcoal eyes, ridding him of the hint of tears that start to seep from puffy eyelids.

“c’mon, matty. you can’t possibly be surprised. i mean really, i dropped everything just to see you.” your tone is gentle, but a laugh sneaks its way out of your mouth and curls around matty’s head, leaving him feeling warm.

he rolls his eyes; courage slowly washes over his bones and makes his hands move to pull you in by the waist.

“shut up and kiss me.”

you surge forward, capturing his lips on your own as your hands move from his cheeks to his hair; threading them through unruly curls.

matty drinks in every noise you make, welcoming them as they leave him desperate. the taste of stale alcohol still lingers on his lips, but underneath the bitterness is you; sweet and human.

he would like to pretend that he hears fireworks when your lips part, a mess of bright, colourful explosions littering the sky as he softly licks into your mouth—but that doesn’t happen.

and it’s alright. it’s completely okay because instead of the headache-inducing light and noise, there’s the muffled laughter of his friends and family, the gentle chirp of crickets, and you.

you; gasping into the kiss.

you; your hands tugging gently at his hair.

you; flush against his chest. so close that matty can feel your heartbeat melding with his.

you; jerking away so abruptly his eyes shoot open, flickering over your—now beet-red—face.

the creak of the back door had pulled you away from him, and the sight of george standing atop the welcome mat made you flush.

“um,” he says, shuffling awkwardly. “i just wanted to say ‘hi’, but i think you welcomed her home enough for the both of us.”

matty clears his throat and grins sheepishly at a very shocked george. his cheeks burn red at being caught, but he can’t really bring himself to care—not when you’re finally next to him.

george scoffs, exasperated by his love-sick friends.

“come inside,” he urges, nodding in the direction of the house. “everyone’s excited to see her.”

matty watches as you turn back to him and give a little shrug, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth—and it’s then that he decides that he’s not done kissing you yet.

“yeah. we’ll uh—we’ll follow you.”

he leads you into the house with a hand on the small of your back, and shuts the door behind him, blocking out the sounds of lingering traffic. cheerful voices seep through the walls, and the irony of how he walked in here just a couple hours ago, saddened and heavy because of the girl who’s now looking up at him with only adoration in her eyes is not lost on matty.

“okay, denise is in there laughing about how we all tricked you into thinking the worst, so prepare to be humiliated.”

matty hums in response, staring only at the back of your head as you follow george toward the kitchen. he reaches a hand out, grabs your arm and gently tugs you back with a finger over his lips and a wink.

“mhm,” he sings, leading you slowly towards the stairs. “sounds like fun.”

he doesn’t get the chance to watch as george turns around, already halfway up the stairs with you latched onto his arm.

“you’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me.” george’s exasperated voice is the last thing he hears before he’s crowding you against the wall at the top of the stairs.

his lips are on yours before you get a second to breathe, a bruising hold on your waist as he pushes you into solid plaster. he keeps one hand on you while the other presses the wall beside your head, arm shaky as he leans his weight onto you.

there’s a light push to his chest, and you gasp under him as you pull back. matty has to refrain from groaning at the loss of pressure on his lips.

“my bags,” you pant, “i forgot them outside.”

a breath of laughter ghosts over your lips. “we can get them after.”

“but my clothes are gonna get wet—matty, the grass was wet.”

your words render useless as he leans down to plant open-mouthed kisses on your neck.

“then you can borrow some of mine,” matty mumbles, trailing his way up to your jaw to suck purple bruises into tender flesh.

at the thought of drowning in his clothes, you go lax against matty’s lips; giving in to his desperate mouth.

“okay,” you agree, and that’s all it takes for matty to recapture your mouth and let his hands wander.

calloused, gentle hands trace the curve of your body as lithe hips press into yours. he manages to tear a hand away from you to feel for the cool metal of the familiar doorknob, twisting until the door falls open.

he tugs you in with sweet urgency, his old bedroom cast in soft light, the only luminosity coming from the moon where it seeps through the blinds.

maybe it’s just the heat of the moment, or maybe you don’t care—but matty’s grateful you don’t comment on the bowie posters that grace his walls as he pushes you into the middle of his bed.

you land with a light bounce and prop yourself up onto your elbows, a cocky grin making its way onto your face. “i’ve been here for barely twenty minutes,” you breathe, gasping when matty situates himself between your legs and pushes you higher onto the mattress. “and you already wanna tear my clothes off.”

the brunet dips his fingers under the hem of your shirt, hiking it up just a sliver to catch a glimpse of soft, smooth skin. “wanted to for a while now.”

he brings the hem of the shirt up to your lips. “bite,” he whispers, voice husky.

with the new expanse of skin exposed, matty's practically left breathless. he takes tender flesh between his teeth, laps his tongue at bare and unmarred skin, and sucks until he feels you arch your back and lean into his mouth. his hands trail the expanse of your ribs, feeling the delicate bones under his touch.

marks upon marks are added to your lower stomach, matty desperately trying to leave reminders on your abdomen. his lips work on their own accord, sucking bite after bite up your torso until he lands at the base of your bra. he looks up at you, eyes questioning. laughing softly, you sit up, gently pushing him back onto his knees. dark eyes trace your body, watching as you undo your bra, slipping it off and letting it fall to the floor, along with your shirt.

the man in front of you sits in awe, and lets out a long sigh. “fuckin’ gorgeous.”

you’re not sure if the words were meant for you to hear, but you blush anyways, leaning back and letting your elbows hold your weight.

“do your worst, birthday boy.”

matty laughs, the happy—and somewhat shocked—noise echoes through the small bedroom and causes you to grin. he doesn’t hesitate to drop his head; lips meeting your warm skin, teeth leaving trails of bruises.

you gasp out breathy pleas when matty flicks his tongue over the peak of your breast. “y-your—shit,” you whine, hands landing in the man’s hair, tugging at the curls harshly. “your family is downstairs, matty. what if they—ah!—hear us?"

“don’t care,” he responds, biting softly at the pink bud and rolling the other between his index and his thumb. “want this. want you.”

”fuck. i—okay, okay. you have me, matty,” you moan, pleasure dripping from your lips. “you have me.”

he surges up to kiss you again, newfound fervour in the brush of your lips as he tilts his head to lick into your mouth. you still taste sweet, everything matty could ever ask for.

“you’re gonna have to be quiet,” he whispers, leaning back on his knees and tracing patterns over your stomach, dipping his fingers into the bruised marks just to hear the masochistic whines you let out at the pain. “as pretty as you sound, i don’t want anyone hearing us.”

hearing his words over, matty backtracks, his hand stuttering over your torso.

“i mean, not that we need to like, do anything—i’m not—i don’t wanna force you into—”

your fingers wrap around his wrist, halting his ministrations to give a comforting squeeze to his skin.

“i want to,” you breathe, using your grip around his wrist to drag his hand down your stomach to rest on your belt. “i want this.”

at your words, matty rushes to tug at the buckle, effortlessly removing your belt and tossing it to the side.

your jeans are off your hips in a second’s time, but he takes his time sliding them over your ankles, bending down to leave firm kisses on your inner thighs.

you preen under his touch, and your chest heaves as you breathe, a glistening trail of spit drying on your nipples. when the jeans are discarded and messily thrown in a pile somewhere across the tiny room, matty notices the soaked bottom of your underwear.

tracing a finger up the fabric just to watch you writhe, matty tuts. “and you thought i was eager.”

your hips jerk up in response, surprised by the soft touch. your hands fly to his hair, gripping the curls so tight that he grunts against your neck.

“jesus.”

“sorry! ‘m sorry,” you sob. you manage to relax your fingers, but matty shakes his head.

“don’t stop on my account.”

you feel his fingers slide across your damp underwear, moving to mindlessly palm your thighs as he leaves burning kisses up to where you need him most. your hips rut up, chasing his hand desperately, but matty’s not having it.

“matty, please,” you huff, tugging at his hair to try and get him where you want him.

“stop whining,” he hushes. “‘wanna take my time.”

your soft gasps and whimpers start to get to him though, and he pushes his knuckles against your pussy, forcing a shocked moan out of you.

matty shushes you because while he is completely enamoured by each noise that escapes your lips, he isn’t too keen on one of his family members walking in to see him take you apart.

you relent, and worry your bottom lip between your teeth, while matty returns to the task at hand.

“pretty,” he mumbles, slipping calloused fingers beneath the elastic band of your underwear.

he pulls to gradually reveal your soaked folds and his breath catches in his throat. at the sight, he speeds up his movements and practically rips the cloth off your legs. the material joins the jeans on the floor, and finally, he gets to see you in all your splendour.

“can i taste you?” he whispers, voice shaking. you nod, already out of it as you take the liberty of collecting all of his hair away from his face, holding it back as he works his mouth against you.

“matty, you—” you start, a hand flying from his hair to his sheets. they smell like him, but you’re trying not to think about that—trying not to think about how loopy it’s making you feel—because matty’s holding your hips up, nose bumping against your swollen clit as he tongues at your hole.

“you—” you start again, but the thought gets lost somewhere. disappears as matty does something with his tongue that makes you gasp. “jesus christ—” you huff, chest rising and falling quickly.

you get your words out before you can forget.

“fuck,” you sigh, arching your hips into his face and tightening your fist in his hair, “you look good like this.”

the praise goes straight to his head, and he’s groaning. nodding his head into you, hitting a sweet spot and almost immediately, the hand in his hair pulls him up.

“i don’t wanna cum yet,” you say, quiet because you have to be—taking account of the people downstairs. “so just, go easy on me, okay? you’re surprisingly good at this.”

“surprisingly?” matty retorts, raising an eyebrow.

you don’t have time to respond before he runs his teeth against your clit, and chides, “brat,” before tightening the grip his fingers have on your thighs, pushing the digits into your skin before shaking his head from side to side. you see black, your eyes clenched closed as you try and pull your thighs together, but matty pushes them open, desperately lapping at you.

his jaw aches as his mouth moves, but your pleasure is all he knows. even though you asked so nicely for matty to not yet make you cum—the question is nothing but a distant memory in the back of his mind.

he flattens his tongue and guides it up, sliding across your slit before enveloping your clit in his mouth and sucking—forcing a strong, white current to wash over you. your hands shoot up to cover your mouth as you arch into his mouth, breathlessly stuttering his name as you come.

can’t talk, can’t speak.

the feeling is too overwhelming, too all-consuming before the come down eventually starts and words are coming out, your body shaking with the effort to stay quiet; muffled whimpers sounding behind tight fingers.

you hitch your hips up, and matty’s moving with them, basically getting onto his knees to keep you close. “holy fuck,” you breathe, looking down between your tits to where he’s kissing away your slick, only letting go when you shove your hands down between your thighs, nerves shot and sensitive.

“mmh,” you whimper, clamping your thighs together, trying to calm yourself down.

“you with me?” he asks, tucking his damp curls behind his ears. you have to laugh. have to laugh all of this pent-up emotion out as you brush stray hairs from your face.

“yeah,” you nod breathlessly. matty kisses you with a smile and you taste yourself on him. his features go goofy when he raises a brow and asks, “good?”

“fucking amazing.”

“good,” he says again, then rolls onto his back beside you. he’s unbuttoning his shirt, saying, “i aim to please,” when you’re crawling your body up his chest and kissing the shock away from his face.

“oh fuck,” he curses, fumbling to grab a hold of you. you slide your fingers onto the side of his head and taste yourself, mixed with the feel of his swollen, curving lips as he smiles against you. desperation sweeps over you, and you cup a hand over the bulge in his pants, grinding your palm down, and matty has to focus really hard to not give into your touch.

regrettably, he pries your hand away, bringing it to his mouth and kissing each one of your fingers with sentimental ease. “wanna fuck you,” he mutters, playfully biting at your ring finger until you laugh and pull your hand away.

“come on,” you drawl, moving to sit directly on his bulge. “it’s your birthday. don’t you want me to blow you?”

you have a point, matty supposes. his birthday is supposed to be the one day of the year when he gets to be selfish, and what kind of person would he be if he passed up the opportunity to feel your lips around him?

but you’re his gift. tasting you and making you cum from his mouth alone is a better present than he could have ever asked for, and matty thinks he can afford to be greedy tonight.

but to him, being greedy isn’t fucking your throat until pretty tears fall down your cheeks—he can do that another time. greedy, to matty, is taking another orgasm from you, just so he can hear the way his name sounds when curled around your tongue.

he makes quick work of slipping off the mattress and taking off the white button-up and trousers, leaving him in only his boxers.

“i’m not lettin’ you suck me off.” he smirks.

“what? why not?” you move to the edge of the bed, a look of confusion dancing on your features as you run a finger up matty’s exposed thigh. “don’t you want me to?”

it’s hard not to give in when you tease the waistband of his boxers, the light chatter rumbling from downstairs a distant memory as he loses himself in the feeling of cold fingers slipping under the elastic band. leaning forward, you press leisurely kisses against the brunet’s torso.

he allows you to mouth at his abdomen, welcomes the gentle bite when you pull skin between your teeth; a swirl of possessiveness ravishing deep in his bones when he realizes that you’re is trying to match the heart-shaped hickeys that taint your own body.

matty breaks out of his trance when you roll his boxers down until the cloth lies in a pile around his ankles. goosebumps rise to his skin and he can feel his legs begin to tremble.

before you have the chance to take his cock into your mouth, matty takes hold of your hair, and gently pulls you back.

“i said you’re not blowin’ me,” he mutters, leaning over your body until you’re forced to lay flat on the mattress, legs dangling off the edge and chest heaving at the proximity. “i know what i want for my birthday, and it’s not that.”

with a fluid movement, he flips your positions and settles against the headboard, letting you settle on his lap. his hands explore your body, nails occasionally scratching you—making you shiver.

“i want you. i want you as mine, and i want you to ride me, right here.”

matty laughs at your wide eyes, brushes sweaty hair out of your face, and relishes in the feeling of your bodies pressed against each other. he’s painfully hard, and every time you shift just a fraction of an inch, it tugs a shaky breath from his throat.

“alright,” you say, pressing a chaste kiss to matty’s lips. “do you have any condoms then?”

his hand reaches out to his bedside table. “in the drawer.”

you lean to grab it for him, and matty’s kissing you the entire time. over your chest, collarbones, shoulders, and neck as you push around his drawer, saying “you have so much shit in here.”

he turns to look. turns back to your neck. “in the back,” and he’s kissing you again, palming your ass. he slides his hands lower and bumps them against your sensitive clit, making you gasp, clutching onto the wood.

matty fucking laughs.

you shake your head. “you’re an arse.”

“you’re very distracting,” he admits.

you finally find the box, and with a packet in hand, you look down to where matty’s cock lays on his stomach, a bead of precum leaking onto his abdomen. “shit, you’re big.”

matty smirks, cocky. “think you can take it?”

huffing, you slide the condom down onto him slower than necessary. his cocky smirk dies immediately when you suck your cheeks together and allow a pool of spit to spill from your lips.

“gonna try,” you say, slicking up matty’s cock with a thick coat of saliva still partially strung to your lips, the friction slow enough for him to buck his hips and try to fuck your fist to get needed stimulation.

“tease,” he manages to choke out before you sink down onto him, hips flexing back so he slides all the way in. as soon as you bottom out, matty groans long and hard, and his head falls into the crook of your shoulder.

you don’t let him know when you’re ready, only lifting yourself up so matty can feel the drag of his cock along your insides, gasping as pleasure clouds your mind. shaky limbs help you in slamming back down, the legs of the bed creaking with the force of your bodies colliding.

”fuck,” matty moans, hands scrambling to find purchase on your waist. you sound fucked out already, blissful sighs breathed into matty’s hair. “you okay?”

you sit up again, the tip of matty’s cock catching on your folds before you lower yourself again, stuttered curses leaving your mouth.

“mhm, m’fine. y-you’re just,” you sob, trailing off and rolling your hips forward, letting matty’s cock grind against your sensitive bundle of nerves. you swallow, the sound resonating in matty’s ears as he aids your movements with a firm grip on your waist. “big.”

matty’s ego swells and he pulls you down hard on his dick, making you feel just how big he can be. it causes you to shake your head quickly.

“fuck! n-not so fast, please.”

“oh baby,” he soothes, palms sliding to grip your ass, and he uses his hold on you to fuck up into you, keeping a simple rhythm—cock hitting a part of you that makes you sob. makes you collapse against his chest, and you stuff your head into his neck and just take it.

“there?” matty asks with a twinge of something sadistic. “want me to fuck you there?”

“yeah, yeah, please—close, matty, ‘m so close.”

to try and lessen the noise, matty grabs your face and pulls you down into a bruising kiss. he swallows every sound, loving the way you struggle to kiss him back as your legs tremble.

“close already, huh?” he whispers against your lips, drinking in every soft moan that escapes your throat.

and it’s meant to be playful, something that he can tease you about later—but with the way his name is repeated in a fucked out voice, he’s sure he’ll forget to do that later.

so he relents, fucking into you with calculated thrusts, hitting your sweet spot over and over again.

your thighs ache, and the edge is so close all you can do is take what he’s giving you and whine his name pathetically.

it hits you all at once.

a white-hot heat reaches up and grabs you and you clench so fucking tight around his cock that matty falters.

he’s losing his goddamn mind. head tilted back against the headboard, he’s trying to hold back pathetic whimpers, but when your eyes roll to the back of your head and your lashes flutter shut, matty lets out a sob as he comes, rutting his hips into you as your body shakes.

your body shakes with overstimulation as matty moves you against him, milking his orgasm and running sharp nails down your sweat-ridden back.

after the comedown, you breathe out a sigh. matty’s kissing your neck. gently pecking at the hot skin, before spreading his kisses over your jaw, towards your mouth.

“how was that?” he asks, tracing a calloused finger over the marks that litter your body. they turn a deeper shade of purple when his touch lingers for too long, and he grins as you squirm in his grasp.

“i think you already know,” you quip, frowning.

“maybe. but i wanna hear you say it.”

you don’t dignify him with a response, instead shaking your head and lifting yourself off his cock, wincing at the sudden emptiness.

“cold?” matty asks. you nod and curl into yourself as he gets up to rummage through his old closet.

once you’re fully dressed, in clothes albeit a bit big on you, matty helps you stand from the bed and pulls you into a hug—your first proper embrace since you’ve been here—and rests his chin atop your knotted hair.

you hum into his chest, wrapping your fingers behind his back and trace swirls over his bare skin.

“i’m glad you’re here,” he says, pressing a kiss to your crown and pulling back to find his pants. “i don’t know if i actually told you that, yet.”

“i kinda figured you were—what with how fast you stopped crying when you saw me.”

“hey,” matty points an accusatory finger at you, but there’s no malice behind it. “you can’t blame me for bein’ upset, i thought you forgot my birthday.”

together, you fix the pillows and smooth over crumpled sheets, returning the room to the way it was before the kisses, the sex, and you.

“matty, when have i ever forgotten your birthday?”

before leaving the room, you try to smooth out your hair, carding a hand through matty’s as well so it isn’t too obvious what you’ve been doing for the last hour—though you’re sure george has a hunch.

the minute you step into the kitchen, with matty close behind, you see george down the rest of his beer and make his way over to you.

“so,” he drawls, a shit-eating grin spread across his face as he eyes you two up and down. “what have you guys been doin’?”

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moon-fics · 6 months

Text

The Lime Light (prologue)

A/n: I had to reupload this bc I messed up some editing but now it's up for good!

Summary: After disappearing from the spotlight you finally return. However, a rough night and a scandalous paparazzi photo causes you to forge a new PR relationship with the beloved actor, Peter Parker.

Rating: PG 13

The light is too bright in the questionably damp room as your agent's, Elizabeth Allen, voice blurs into the background. Stress drones out all noise from the outside world, filling your ears and mind with tv static. You rub your forehead to ease the unsteady feeling inside, your heart beating louder than a drum.

"So, you'll do it right?" Liz asks, her voice full of hope. You know that you've been letting her down recently, avoiding roles that would boost your audience. "You can't keep turning down roles or they'll stop requesting you," She warns, wagging a finger at you.

If she was anyone else you'd snap at her, telling her you just aren't feeling the role. However, you both know you've been using that excuse for months and she's too sweet of a woman to yell at.

It's a good plot, one that would win awards if done right. A love story with tragedy that isn't expected until the last act. A girl in love with a man with a double life, but she's in love with his secret identity and hates the man behind the mask. It's cliche beyond belief, but almost everything has already been done in Hollywood.

"Have they gotten anyone relevant in the cast?" You ask with a heavy sigh, sitting up straight in the chair. You're now alert and invested in the conversation, at least as much as you can be. "I mean, I'd rather not work with a cast full of new faces," It's a harsh thing to say, especially since you started out in the same spot as them.

Liz nods, a burst of energy coming through her, “So you’re actually interested?” She squeaks as you nod in hopes it’ll satisfy her. It's the first time in a while you've shown interest in any gig she's gotten you, which to her, is a huge deal. She quickly shuffles through a file which you can see contains an out of order script.

"Here we go," She hums, placing a paper with a list of names on it. You hesitantly reach for it, sliding it off her wooden desk. It's covered in scratches from her pen pressing too hard on paper, a few coffee stains as well. You smooth out the paper, starting on the first name.

Felicia Hardy is the first name you recognize and you're surprised she isn't the lead. Instead she's stuck as the supporting actress who eventually dies off to progress the plot. From what you've heard about her, she'll throw a stink about it but eventually agree to her character's fate.

Your eyes scan over names of actors you've neither met nor heard of. You're relieved when you finally land on Harry Osborn but it's gone when you see a question mark drawn next to his name. That could mean many things but the two most likely is that he either hasn't decided or the casting director is still looking.

"Is Harry still dropping roles after what happened?" You ask, glancing up from the paper. You should know the answer, you should be asking Harry himself. But after witnessing something as gruesome as his incident, you couldn’t bring yourself to call him once he was discharged. Liz is no longer sitting in front of you, instead she's organizing her desk. She's nervous, why wouldn't she be?

"From what I've heard from his agent," You forget that she has connections, that she's no longer a young woman struggling to keep actors. Just like how you're no longer a child sitting in a chair you can't fit in; your mother making sure you can't speak for yourself. Her words still echo in your mind telling you to cry on que and to never get close to your co-stars. "He's debating giving up acting entirely." She shrugs, tightening her bun.

The news doesn't surprise you in the slightest, what happened was traumatizing. Even though you had only watched what happened you still have flashes of broken bone and blood on an expensive set. Even now you cringe at the thought.

"I know you get along with Harry and I really think he might accept the role!" She cheers up, placing her hand on her desk. You wait for an explanation, already knowing she'll tell you without a prompt. "His best friend, Peter Parker, is the lead role." She squeals.

Liz is a huge fan of Peter Parker and often laments about how she regrets not signing him to her company,at the time she thought he was a one shot wonder. He's a brilliant actor who has a great streak in the industry and a huge following of fan girls. Somehow every movie he's been in has been a hit, something an actor can only dream of.

As much as you want to continue to pretend like you aren't known by millions, you have to suck it up. You can already feel the all nighters and coffee on your breath. As the buzzing in your mind slowly begins you hold out your hand.

"Hand me the script."

- - -

You stare at the boy in front of you, at least a year older maybe two if you’re generous. You’re examining him from afar, imagining how he looks at every angle just so you can get a feel for him. You’ve never worked with a boy around your age, not in such a serious role like this.

His hair is well kept and he never leaves his father’s side. A part of you knows he only got this role because his father is directing the movie, I mean, Norman Osborn always gets what he wants. So why wouldn’t he want his son to become just as famous as him?

You’re so transfixed on taking note of his every feature you hardly notice your mother approaching you. Your first big role and she’s not letting you out of her sight, she calls it a precaution, but you know she just wants to keep her strings attached to you. Even at the ripe age of thirteen you understand her love is purely based on your achievements.

Eventually, you’re thrusted onto set to practice your lines with the boy… and holy shit you’re nervous. You’re too new to acting to have any fame get into your head but you have no clue how this boy will act and honestly, you’re terrified he’ll get you recasted.

As you approach the set decorated to be a middle class kitchen your hands are sweating. You’re lucky Mr. Osborn has allowed you to hold onto your script or you might forget every line even after the hours of late night practices. Before you know it you’re standing a few feet away from the red, no brown, wait maybe both haired boy.

“I’m Harry,” The boy speaks first, holding out a hand. He isn’t even holding a script, he’s confident he knows his lines which only makes you feel worse. You hesitate to shake his hand, worried he might crush your hand or secretly tell you how out of place you are. “I heard this is your first time in a position like this!” He continues, a genuine and bright smile spreads across his lips.

Finally, you use your voice and take his hand, “I’m Y/n, it’s nice to meet you,” You’re taken aback by how soft his skin is and how he doesn’t insult you for being nervous. Something about him is warm, he’s like a fall candle that you light at night when you can’t focus.

“You shouldn’t be nervous just because my dad is the director. He can’t replace you,” He assures you, placing a hand on your shoulder. You don’t understand what he means, actors get replaced all the time for the simplest reasons. “I specifically chose you to work with and my father won’t risk my career over something as small as forgetting lines!” He gestures to your script, his head tilting to the side. A strand of hair falls out of place and suddenly you’re reminded that he’s not some big shot, he’s a kid same as you.

With a new determination in your chest you give him a solid nod. You feel special, you feel wanted for the first time in a while. Harry chose you to work with out of who knows how many other girls. He must see something in you, something he wants to work with. With a yell of ‘action’ and a snapping sound, the flame between friends is ignited.

#peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #tasm!spiderman x reader #peter parker x fem #andrew garfield x female reader #andrew garfield x you #andrew garfield x reader #andrew garfield #actor!au #Pilot #harry osborn #harry osborn x reader #felicia hardy x reader #felicia hardy #mj x reader

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mordeiswrld · 1 year

Text

Stu Macher x M!Reader

AHHHH MY FIRST REQUEST🤭🤭 OFC I CAN DO THAT FOR YOU- Admin Zjay🪷 (reupload since i deleted everything🥲)

Requested?: yes

Fic type: Headcanons (not sure of you wanted a oneshot or this but just let me know and ill redo it)

Time started: 5:34 AM

Character: Stu Macher x M!reader

A/N: this may be bad since i dont capture extroverted characters’ personalities as well as Introverts but ill try my best😁

Stu being...well stu never really put much thought into anyone being taller than him until you came that is

When he first saw you it was in his History class that, in all honesty, he wasnt paying that nuch attention in. Just off in la la land and fucking with the other students with his goofy antics

Then you walked in, silently. Having to duck a little since the doorways never took tall people into consideration

Upon seeing a big figure in his peripheral vision he snapped his head towards you and his brain LITERALLY stopped all thoughts from processing everything

He was just ASTONISHED at your size. He was so amazed that he prayed to the gods that his teacher would sit you next to him

Unfortunately for him, she didn’t but will that stop Stuart? Absolutely not

After about an hour of boring lectures about Wars the bell had rung and kids starting pouring out into the halls, running, screaming, talking and laughing and doing what normal Highschoolers do before they speed off to their next class

But not Stu, well, not right away anyways. He was looking for the new kid. You. He searched above everyones heads and then he spotted you. Taller amongst the crowd of teenagers. You made them look like ants. Stu loved your height it was a relief to finally have someone who is taller than he is for a change

He quickly ran up to you after he spotted you and tapped your shoulder. “Hey, you’re in my history class i wanted to ask for your name earlier but-ah...Ms.HasAStickUpHerAss would’ve lectured me for an hour straight and sent me to detention.” he chuckles as he scratches his head, trying to seem awkward

You laugh “Oh is that so? My name is Y/N, what’s yours?” you questioned back as you rummage through your locker to get your textbook. “Stu Macher at your service” he says as he puts on a fake British accent and bows before you as if you are royalty. You laugh again and close your locker, tetxbook in hand.

“Nice to meet you Sir Stu. But if you’ll excuse me I have to get to Math and that’s all the way on the other side of the school” you say in an already exhausted tone. Stu smiles and playfully wraps his arms around your shoulders or tries to, after 4 failed attempts he gets onto his tiptoes and tries it “i can walk you there” he says as he starts to steer you down the hall. “You sure? Won’t you be late to class? If not later than i will be?” you question but Stu just brushes off the question a careless scoff “pffft, I’ll be fine. I have Science and he barely even remembers my face so i’m not worried” he states as he unwraps his arm from your neck, gets off of his tip toes and starts to walk in front of you backwards

He walks you to your class and then after that, yall talk almost everyday you are like his new favorite person to mess with. And the height? Oh he’s definitely gonna tease you about it “hey! Hows the weather up their dude?” “Fe Fi Fo Fum says the giant Y/N” “shhh as you can see hea we have a woild Y/N in its Natural habitat” ‘STU I CAN SEE YOU BEHIND THAT BUSH’

After a few months Stu starts to notice his crush on you. His longing stares, the way he notices every little change and detail about you (the way you slouch to be the same height as everyone, the way you almost bump into every doorway, etc), how he likes to be around you, how he likes to be the short one for once, etc. He’s shocked to say the least, since your both guys and its not really “normal” for the same gender to date but he quickly gets over it because he can love whoever the fuck he wants and if someone has a problem with it? They’ll be hanging by their appendix the next day.

Stu sits on the idea of him having a crush on you for a few weeks all while acting the exact same way except a lot more physical. The noogies turn into him ruffling your hair gently, he asks for you to get things for him even though he can clearly get it himself, he compliments your height more often, the hugs become tighter and longer, and his touches linger. He can tell you feel the same but he isn’t sure but all he needs is a positive response...

A/N: lowkey dont know how to feel about this 🫢i hope you like it though!!

Time ended: 6:31 AM

#stu macher x male reader #stu matcher imagine #stu matcher x reader #stu macher #stu matcher fluff #stu matcher x you #stu matcher #scream headcanons #slashers x reader #scream 1996 #x male reader

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dimepdf · 2 years

Text

PERIOD CASE. + EDDIE MUNSON

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? summary. Eddie, your boyfriend, is sitting beside you, waiting for the right moment to take action or at least prepare to defend himself. as you curl up into a ball, wrapping your arms around yourself in search of comfort author's note. okay i tried my best, i don't really know how to write about periods that well sorry :( trying to get more comfortable writing for fem readers so this is a good practice. (reupload)

[ ❥ ] pairing. eddie munson x reader

[ ❥ ] word count. 862

[ ❥ ] genre. fluff

[ ❥ ] warnings. fem reader, not show canon, established relationship, just tooth rotting fluff, Eddie being a caring boyfriend, periods, excuse the grammar mistakes or you're homophobic.

The guy wasn't known to express much of his emotions, even to the closest of people that he knew, which included you, but just because he wanted to be open with them doesn't mean that he doesn't have emotions in general.

He's still worried about you and made sure to show affection for you in his own personal way.

That included the times you were on your period. Eddie would proceed with the greatest amount of caution at the end of the month.

He had flinched with each step you took towards his bedroom, almost jumping out of his skin as you opened his bedroom door, like the door had done something to you. Stomping toward his mattress before falling face-first into his bedsheets. Crawling to lie in the fetal position.

He had been watching you all day since the moment he picked you up from school in the morning. He didn't really know how to comfort you.

You had already snapped at him the moment he wanted to do something nice for you, simply opening the car door to let you out, only for you to snap back at him for invading your personal space. He was beyond fucking confused.

He was fidgeting with the rings on his fingers when you snapped your head in his direction. Eddie shivered under your gaze, straightened up, and nervously smiled at your peering eyes.

"What?" His eyebrow raised, not expecting your hostile tone as you spat the question at him.

"Uh…what…" looking around his room before glancing at you.

"You're the one staring at me like I'm some freak." You glared, your eyes piercing into his soul as your skin was flushed and your bloated face had fallen into a permanent scowl.

"I–I didn't say that," he quickly defended himself, "you look, you know, okay? Did you want something?"

Your boyfriend, Eddie Munson, was what other people would refer to as a "helicopter boyfriend".

"Yeah, I want you to leave me the hell alone." Eddie’s eyes widened from how quickly you went from glaring at him to curling up in his blankets sobbing.

You could hear his hesitant fidgeting, humming to himself in confusion, wanting to do anything but a mess at that moment.

He knew one thing that would at least sweeten the mood just a bit, something that you would never refuse, your favorite snacks. He practically ran to his kitchen cabinet, his face flushed with sadness.

His pace was only picking up more every time your sobs would split just enough time for you to have a coughing fit, practically choking on your tears, your crying echoing through his trailer.

"Hey, bub?" He would return to his bedroom with his arms full of anything he could remember. He could even suggest eating while at his place. "I've got a few things for you if that's cool." Your tears do not subside as your shoulder raises and falls with every hiccup.

You were weirdly silent as you accepted the spread of food from your boyfriend's arms, a content exhale leaving your mouth the moment you heard the crinkle of your favorite bag of chips opening between your fingers.

Eddie is hovering over beside you, not wanting to be much of a bother himself.

His knee was sunken into the mattress, waiting for the right moment to jump into action or at least get ready to defend himself, whichever way you were feeling, just wanting to be prepared.

Taking only a handful of bites from everything, nothing could distract you from the pummeling pain of cramps that stabbed at your lower stomach.

Your lips pout once more like a whine backed with pain curls from your throat. Curling back up into a ball, wrapping your arms around yourself, seeking some type of comfort.

Eddie’s eyes follow you as he sits on the other side of the mattress, comfortably reaching a hand out to rub your back in comforting circles, his touch actually doing the opposite of irritating you, crying harder as you're rolled over, wrapping your arms around his lower torso, hugging your face into his back.

The gesture continues to calm you down just a bit. You loved the warmth and natural scent he gave off as you nuzzled your cheek against the back of his shirt, sighing with a shaky breath.

"You need anything else, angel?" asks Eddie in a concerned tone, his hands reaching to unclasp your fingers from his torso, holding them in his own as he reaches his hand up and pecks the back of your hand.

Your muffled voice answered, "Just hurts." Eddie hums in agreement, his head ducking low and brows furrowing.

"It’ll be okay, angel," he starts, your groan in protest interrupting him.

"Stop saying it’ll be okay, everything hurts so bad," you whine, as all Eddie could do was admit to comfort you, walking on eggshells with every word he spoke from his lips.

Only meeting your sudden outbursts with nervous smiles and embraces that held temporary warm comfort. He didn't pretend to understand your pain, nor had he ever downplayed it.

He just wanted to be there for you as much as possible.

[ ❥ ] taglist. @prettyeyedmaureen @torynicholsgf @bucky-daddy-barnes @eldriidd @ycarlii @guitarromantic @sh3lov3dyou @lafresamilk @loveshineslikethesky @haechaniebom @vxid42 @biggestslutever-1stnamegrea-blog @spenglerslime @slvdsjjk @stitched-mouth @misaamaneswifey @kiszkathecook @imahoforthings @kyyellaxi @eichenhouseproperty @hotgirlsshareaccounts @ran-rap @avasjunkpile @first-edition-dumpster-fire @batmetallady @woahhhfidget @ireadstoriesnotmakethem @notsoshynomore @the-night-owl-blr @1efleur @todoroki-slut @mjauqeen @scarlet-kazuha @lattayhottay16 @astralwaifu @prettyplant0

@imliterallygonnagetviolent @strangerthanfanfiction713 @graktung @sughcashsaiki @fzzybrain @caseket @spiritualwhore444 @lluvin

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#[ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ ★ — t.wrks. ]#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #joseph quinn #stranger things 4 #netflix #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson stranger things #st4 #eddie munson concept #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader

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cleewii · 1 year

Text

THIS IS LOVE

pairing: denji x gn!reader

rating: 16+

warning(s): violence, gore, loss and grief, reader is a morally questionable, pre-established relationship

word count: 1.4K

note: i wouldn’t consider this a completed work considering i just took a draft i had and polished it enough to be cohesive. it still needs some more work (an actual plot cough cough) but whatever. if enough people dig it i might expand on it more. i’ve just got this feeling that denji is rlly weird about crying and that’s where this came from.

I do not permit the reposting/reuploading of my work on any platform. i do not allow the use of my work for other forms of entertainment. not even with credit

if he could hold you to his heart, you’d hear the steady rhythm of life beating from within. two souls bound together in the form of this raggedy, beaten down, dirty mess of a man, covered in layers of dust, and grime, and blood. Yet, when your eyes fall upon him even if he stands a tattered wreck, all he’d see is adoration—a soft and sweet glimmer of something he’ll protect until his last dying breath.

he feels that love you have for him, with its honey golden glow, effervescent as it lays upon his skin in the form of chast kisses and a warm embrace, and he feels like he could die the happiest man in the world. so long as you’ll be there to smile so sweetly. just for him, only for him.

he’d rip apart the world in return, bury his hands deep within the sodden carcasses he’d lay at his own feet to grip at something feral and beating, just for you. all for you. always for you.

because you make him feel like he’s living, like you want him for more then what lives behind his rib cage, tasting his dreams and letting the sweetness of it all fill it until it was satisfied.

“pochita,” he’d told you, “his name s’pochita”

“yeah? how’d you meet him?”

he’d recounted everything he could remember to you that night. that sickly feeling of starvation, the dull throbbing of his head. stories followed by tragedies, even when you felt like you could cry, you let him finish. you listened.

“she killed ‘em. all’ve ‘em…i couldnt….i didnt save ‘em,” his chin falls utop his knees, arms hugging his legs to his body as he stares at the ground solemnly. the glimmer of an anguished nostalgia simmering in his eyes; he seems transfixed on burning his pain into the couch cushion underneath him. from the way he spoke about them, his family, you knew they’d meant the world to him. Maybe even more than that.

you say nothing about the tears that slip down his cheeks. nor the way his nose goes red, and his cheeks blot with watercolor grief.

you only pull him closer, letting him lean against you as he soaks your shirt in muffled sobs.

he falls asleep like that, and you follow soon after. His skin sticky with dried tears, nose and eyes rubbed raw.

he’s snoring before he can process whatever childish embarrassment he might feel about having been so vulnerable. he swallows down the weakness before giving himself the chance to chew on it. there was a realization that had replaced it—in fact—before his eye lids grew so heavy that he had to give into his body’s yearning for sleep.

He wondered, something he rarely allows himself to do, that maybe you matter to him as much as they did. it’s a thought that stays in the back of his mind throughout the rest of the night, in his dreams where the smell of you wandered like a ghost, his body curled up, pressed right against yours.

he would cry for you.

he’d known that since the first time he’d seen you covered in bruises and looking worse for wear.

you were alive, and he still cried.

it had shaken him to his core.

he didn’t notice until you pointed it out, the fat tears that trailed down his cheeks at the sight of you.

he didn’t know why, he’d felt so stupid after the fact, but that didn’t change the way he practically bawled like a baby when you’d returned home late that night, blood seeping into your shirt from the cuts that littered your skin.

you’d been attacked by a devil, you explained, and later that night, when you were safe in bed and sleeping soundly under the covers, he’d gone searching for the thing that’d hurt you.

he didn’t come back until he found it, and left it a writhing pile of stinking flesh.

you didn’t question why he came back to you bloody, or ask about the self satisfied grin he’d presented to you after the fact. you just smiled, so sweet and soft, and kissed the corner of his lips like it was the normal thing to do.

you supposed it was.

every since you’d met him, the line between moral and immoral had faded. what once made your skin crawl and stomach ache, felt like simple showers of rain during a sunny day. never completely normal—always a little too intense to handle—and not always completely welcomed, but a type of irregularity that you wouldn’t lose any sleep over.

that’s why you didn’t think too much about the metallic taste in your mouth afterwards.

that dopey smile on his face was enough for you, especially when he realized you hadn’t changed the bandaids he’d littered over your skin. mismatched, placed everywhere, some folded over themselves in his struggle to remove them from the packaging, and others overlapping each other in his haste to to dress the cuts that marred your skin.

his hands had shaken horribly, eyes red and puffy from crying, finally calming down once he’d bandaged every wound.

it should have scared him, the way he’s broken down so easily because of you. it should have swallowed him whole, filled his lungs with a smokey kind of fear that he’d suffocate in.

if death wasn’t an option, then surely that was the next best thing.

having to watch everyone else die before him.

having to watch you die.

the thought was enough to make him gag, it’s inevitability clung to his throat like a disease.

he’d held you tight, and kissed every inch of skin you’d allowed him to access that night, suddenly strengthened in the resolve he’d created moments before.

“ill protect you. won’t let anythin’ hurt you again. not ever.”

“yeah?” you giggled. maybe you shouldn’t have. there was nothing lighthearted about his declaration. it was solid, unwavering, etched into his entire being and nothing would change it.

“yeah.” he looks down, a determined furrow in his brow, “i promise.”

you stared at him, for a moment, mulling over his words, tasting them on your tounge.

then, your face had melted into a smile, and you kissed him right on the lips.

he couldn’t stop smiling for the rest of the night.

“i love you, denji…” you murmured into his hair, soft blond strands tickling your cheek as you slowly drifted, your exhaustion finally catching up to you.

he had only been dozing off, fading in and out of sleep, but the moment those words left for mouth he could feel his body tremble.

you loved him.

he hoped, a selfish kind of hope, that you loved him as much as he did you.

it played in his head, like a broken record. repeating itself, over and over again, until he too faded into sleep.

do you love me like i love you…?

do you need me like i need you….

“ur a dream, ya know that?” he says to you one day, head lying comfortable in your lap as the two of you lounge about a chilly winter day. this was months later, summer having faded as sleet and snow covered the once lively earth.

“half the time i cant believe ur real…” he mumbles that last part, looking away from your serene gaze as if he’d melt at the sight of your eyes, eyes that were always so warm and golden.

red dusts the tips of his ears, painting over the skin of his shoulders and cheeks, you can’t help the giggle that leaves you at the sight of him all flustered and quiet.

“well m’right here aren’t i?” you smile. your fingertips brush over the ends of his blond hair.

“yeah.”

he feels warm at the thought.

still here.

he doesn’t regret crying for you.

no, in fact, he thinks if he could he’d cry every day for you. happy tears, sad tears, so long as you could hold him close and tell him it was alright. that you’d never leave him the way they did, that you’d be okay.

he doesn’t regret crying for you, because although it seemed like whenever he cried it was because he’d lost something, something precious that meant more to him then he’d care to admit, you’d managed to prove him wrong.

for once, his tears didn’t mark the end of something—of someone.

for once, he cried, and you were still here

#denji x reader #csm denji #denji fluff #chainsaw man #clee’s.writing

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harvestar · 2 months

Text

Writing patterns tag game!

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

Thanks @desperatepleasures for tagging me!! <33 I think someone else might also have tagged me in this one but I'm terrible at following up on these D:

It was a miserable rainy day in Market Chipping, and despite the popularity of H. Jenkins’ flower shop there were not many customers willing to brave the downpour. (Find Me In The Future)

They call you Amelia now. (Voyages of the Orphean)

“Hmmm.” Laios furrowed his brow, inhaling deeply. (Cycles) (E)

I had spent the last seventy-two or so hours sulking in the supply closet. (I was refusing to keep track of exactly how much time had passed, because of the aforementioned sulking.) (Stalemate) (E)

“It's still there,” Marcille murmured, tracing the scar on Falin’s chin. (Stay)

There's not exactly the same amount of free time with two children in the house, but you and Harry do still manage to find pockets of stillness on busy days. (Catch of the Day)

“This cat is a racist,” Harry says, finally, holding it at arm's length. (Stray)

It is early. Earlier than any human being should be awake, but you have a coffee shop to open. (Du Bois Coffee)

Catherine is near tears, trembling with anger as she strides into Peter's apartments. (Peter the Obedient) (E)

"I miss the Kineema," you sigh, struggling with the heavy cans of paint. (Extended Vacation)

When you wake you feel the worst you have ever felt. (Immaculate Mess) (might as well not split up the series lol)

I guess I would say I like to start in media res/with dialogue a lot! There's only a few that have like, "establishing shot" openings... other than that your guess is as good as mine half of these are in different POVs dfhgndn

(also left out giant's tears since that's a reupload from 2022 and solonacean sonnets because posting one line of a sonnet wouldn't make much sense)

tagging: whoever wants to do it! you guys know I hate tagging ppl but will gladly read your responses :D

#ktxt #tag meme #I think my favorite is 'this cat is a racist.' it doesn't make sense in context either harry is just like that

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fe-fictions · 1 year

Note

Where? ~oh~ where? Have those Henry fics gone?~ I needs my crowman

(I've got some Henry taking care of Robin and Morgan when they get sick! Huge thanks to @zankavogue , who compiled a huge archive of fics from the deactivated blog! I'll be reuploading as many as possible!!! U V U)

The family had taken a brief, albeit very fun and relaxing, trip in Plegia. Morgan being only eight months old certainly made things interesting. Having the whole family there to enjoy the beauty of Plegia outside war time was fun.

Plus, you were both Plegians, so it was nice to learn about your roots.

It was a magical time. Or at least, it would have been. You woke up the morning after you came home and found yourself unable to get out of bed.

You had a fever, your head was pounding, and you were a snotty mess of misery. Henry was amused until he heard baby Morgan bawling down the hall. You both caught, according to your husband, the Plegian swine flu.

No one was immune from it, not even sweet, innocent little blood bags like Morgan (Henry’s words, not yours).

So Henry quickly went from teasing you and being fascinated by how miserable you were to going into full-blown panic.

Like any disease, a baby catching it had a higher risk of complications. Most recover, Henry explained while frantically scribbling an urgent letter for Maribelle to tie to one of his crows, but itty bitty babies could suffer serious health problems.

Henry got to work on preparing you a bucket of cold water, a second bucket for the kerchiefs you would be blowing your nose into all day, and a third bucket in case you couldn’t keep your food down.

You didn’t.

“Gods, Henry- did you have to send that filthy animal to me? I’m literally down the block! It would take you fifteen minutes to-”

“Fifteen minutes is a waste of time! Morgan and Robin could be dead by then! And if it’s either of them, it’s no joke, nya ha!”

“Then why are you laughing?”

“It’s nervous laughter!” He chuckled again, though judging by how pale his face was, it seemed to be true.

Maribelle simply scoffed and hurried to the bedroom, ready to treat her friend.

“Robin, darling! Oh, you look positively ghastly!” She gasped, drawing the mask over her mouth and nose. She pulled on her medical gloves, a stave at her side and a big pouch of herbs on her belt. “The Plegian swine flu is no joke...it’s very rarely found in Ylisse, but when it travels with you…”

“I-it’s a disaster.” You wheezed, not before you were overcome by coughing. “Anything y-you can do will be a welcome remedy.”

“Luckily for you, there’s nothing here that herbs and plenty of rest won’t fix. Now Morgan might be a little trickier, given his age...but we can at least get started with you.”

Maribelle was quick to send Henry off to grind up the herbs, preparing some disgusting concoction guaranteed to get your body back to normal.

Presuming Henry could put it together.

“Now, when did you start to feel ill?”

“W-well, if I’m honest… It started around-”

Crash

“Ah, gods- I broke the cup!!”

“-The time we got home, last night. It was late-”

Smash

“The pestle’s shattered!!”

“-And I just thought I was tired, but...my head feels about the same as-”

Bang

“The herbs are everywhere!!”

“HENRY!!” Maribelle shouted out the door, “What in the gods’ names are you doing?!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make a mess!” Henry apologized, his voice shaky and unsure. “I-I just meant to help a bit, but it looks like I’m making things worse, nya ha!”

“Why don’t you come and sit,” Maribelle pinched her brow, “Just settle down until you stop breaking things.”

You watched as Henry wandered back into the bedroom, looking surprisingly pale and nervous. You had never quite seen him in such a way, before.

After all, it was always good times and weird vibes with your husband. Since when did he become the anxious type?

“I’ll be right back, Robin. I’ll get your medicine.”

“Give some to Morgan, first.” You asked, “I can wait.”

Maribelle nodded to you before taking off, leaving you alone with your husband who was bouncing his leg and fidgeting with his hands with a nervousness that you’d never seen before.

For a few moments, it was quiet, listening to the rhythmic, rapid tapping of his heel against the stone. Eventually, though, you would have to snap him out of it.

“Henry, a-are you all right?” You questioned as gently as you could. Henry started to nod, giving you a cracked, faux grin. Then he paused, his smile fell, and he shook his head.

“Well, if I’m honest? No. Not at all. I feel like I’m dying inside.” He admitted. “I mean, you’re sick, and so is Morgan! My two favorite living people! And there’s not a thing I can do about it- I mean, he’s just a baby, and we’ve only been back together for a year- I dunno. It scares me, y’know? Which is impressive! When’s the last time I’ve been genuinely scared, right! Nya ha ha!”

“There’s nothing to be scared of, Henry.” You tried to assure him. But he shook his head, folding his arms tightly.

“You don’t know that! All it takes is one thing to go wrong and it could be bye-bye wifey, or even bye-bye baby, and I...oh, I couldn’t handle that. Nope, not one bit.”

It was certainly a reasonable concern.

“Henry, sweetheart...come here.” You held your hand out to him, insisting he sit with you. You weren’t sure if it was the exhaustion or the pain that numbed your sense of worry, but you were far calmer than he was.

He took your hand, revealing trembling fingers. You squeezed it tightly, trying your best to comfort him despite your situation.

“Maribelle will take care of us. We’ll be okay, I’m sure.”

“But you can’t be sure!” He sighed shakily, “Anything can happen when it comes to Plegian flu. It can either be nothing at all, or really bad! And you never know until it happens. If something bad did happen to you or Morgan, I just...I don’t know what to do! You already told me I’m not allowed to re-animate either of you if you croak, so...I’m out of options!”

“I’m standing firm on that, just so you know.” You informed him with a soft smile, “But, Henry...there’s no value in worrying for worrying’s sake. W-we really shouldn’t be concerned with the unknown until it comes.”

“That’s easy for you to say, you’re not the one having to take care of both of you! What if I mess up?! What if I make it worse!! I already broke Maribelle’s mortar and pestle, there are herbs everywhere, a-and I just-”

“Henry,” You pressed a finger to his lips, “You’re overthinking.”

“B-but I just...I worry about you guys…”

“I know.” You beamed at him, stroking his cheek. “But please, try not to worry. We need to wait for Maribelle’s diagnosis, and we can go from there, okay? It’ll be easier if we take it a step at a time.”

“Gosh, Robin...how’re you able to stay so calm all the time?” He looked at you incredulously, “I’m about ready to pop out of my skin and just run around like a headless Risen!”

“Experience.” You laughed.

Maribelle came in not long after, informing you both that the flu didn’t appear to be as bad as it could be.

“Morgan should recover within the week, though we’ll need to make sure he receives two doses of medicine each day; one in the morning and one at night. Henry, you’ll have to make it for him each day- is that something you can handle? Or will I be making more visits this week?”

Henry shared a look with you, seeing your encouraging smile. He took a deep breath and nodded.

“I can handle it, I promise!”

“Good. Morgan’s going to be counting on you. Robin, you should need more rest than anything else, but I’m recommending you take one dose each evening; it will help you sleep better, and it’s strong enough that it should hold you the next day.”

“That’s fine by me.” You agreed; the less disgusting, bitter herbs you had to ingest, the better.

“Your recovery time will be a bit longer than Morgan’s, though, judging by how you’re doing… I’d say two weeks at minimum; a month-and-a-half at most. Now if you want, I can have Lissa or Libra come and help take care of you, so that Henry can focus on caring for Morgan. Or, we can simply send Morgan off with a wet nurse while you’re here.”

“N-no, I-!” Henry interrupted before you could reply, putting a hand to his chest. “I can handle it, Maribelle! After all, if I can’t take care of my family, what kind of man would I be? Just a sad bag of bones and sinew! Not good for anything but crow food.”

Maribelle glanced over at you, looking for some sort of response. You knew she was still wary of Henry, especially now that she was out a very lovely mortar and pestle. But you were confident in his abilities.

“He can take care of us.” You told her, “I trust him.”

“Well...if you insist.” She conceded, earning a whoop from your husband- and an apology for it shortly after when he realized you weren’t to be around loud noises with your headache. “I’ll be coming to check up on you twice a week until you’re all better- until then, Henry, we’re counting on you!”

“You got nothin’ to worry about, Maribelle! We just take it a day at a time, and it’ll be great, nya ha!”

“Robin, if anything changes, or you need help...please don’t hesitate to call me or the other healers immediately.”

“I will.”

“I do mean anything, dear.”

“...I will.”

“If Henry does one thing wrong-”

“Hey!”

“I got it, Maribelle.” You chuckled, waving her away. “Thanks for your concern. We’ll be sure to call for you if we need anything. But I’m positive Henry will take care of us just fine.”

“You can bet your organs on it!” He grinned, giggling happily with his wife’s support. Maribelle gave him a long, hard look, but eventually took her leave.

Henry was quick to move Morgan’s crib into the bedroom, guaranteeing that he could keep track of both of you and ensure you were both recovering nicely at the same time.

While it was heartbreaking listening to Morgan’s discomfort and those tiny baby coughs, it helped to see him improve day after day.

You did end up recovering about a week after Morgan, all thanks to Henry. He made sure to give you only the best. Most of all you were just thankful that none of you could get the Plegian swine flu ever again.

Especially since he bought Maribelle a replacement mortar and pestle that came from a questionable source, covered in animal bones and bird skulls and...you really didn’t know what corner of Hell he summoned them from.

At least there wouldn’t be another opportunity for him to break anything else of Maribelle’s, seeing as you wouldn’t be getting sick again.

You would take extra steps to ensure that just so he wouldn’t frighten Maribelle with another horrifying “gift”.

#henry #robin #morgan #fe 13 #fire emblem awakening #henry x robin #henbin lol #robenry #henbin #IDK WHAT THE COUPLE NAME IS #fe-fictions #fe fictions #f!robin #fem!robin #family fluff #hurt and comfort #sick prompt #sweet baby morgan #papa henry to the rescue!!!!

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seahdalune · 4 months

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Seana's 2023 art highlights

(surprisingly, not a reupload this time!)

January: i drew nothing! we're off to a great start.

February: i drew something! i love Champ even if i haven't drawn anything tf2 related since April. i think it was this piece where i decided to give Champ RED coloring. [link]

also, this is the month i made my second Moldy plush.... i wasn't very happy with this one, though. [link]

March: uhhhh. more of my tf2 ocs but i think those aren't that interesting. just go to my tf2 oc blog @brokenbrainstormbulb if you wanna see them honestly, i have an image limit to keep ffs. that said, this was around the time i got into TC2, so i drew a lot of that kind of stuff... i'm never drawing stuff for it ever again, sorry. [link]

April: look at the cool thing i drew for a fellow tf2 robot fan! now, this is the point in time where i start drawing more because of a certain interest, so look forward to all the art that'll come up here.....

May: wow, this really was my first public piece of Papa Louie art, huh. i was so proud of it when i showed it off on tumblr the first time... i don't like it as much anymore. for one, the office wall color is wrong.... i still can't believe Papa Louie was what got me out of art block, but god, i'm glad it did. i don't think i've drawn this much before, and even though the community's tiny, i'm glad to give back as much as i can. anyways, i said something like "it's so funny that people think they're either super married or divorced as hell" on the same post. i still think that, and it's defos funny as hell, but i've grown a kind of appreciation towards the ship as well. like yeah, you go girls, we love that extra slow burn with so many road bumps on the way! [link]

June: how the hell did i pump this out. this was also like a few days before i had to leave for the airport too... i don't know myself sometimes. i swear i still love Boigashipping! i just... i'm just busy with other ships okkkk [link]

July: i didn't draw anything...? i was in Bali. and i was busy selling adopt designs to draw anything substantial, oopsie! actually, i DID draw the first part of WDB... it's uh, still the only part. i'm sorry!!!! i'm sorry!!!! i swear i have the whole thing outlined!!! can you just give me anons about the story instead so you won't have to wonder what comes next!! [link]

August: TOSI fixation. it had not gone past it's conceptual stage, i must note. i do wish i would do something about it though. [link]

September: the art trade i did with my friend! actually, i was a few weeks late with my part, so it was supposed to be finished by August. oops. i like the textures tbh. my Chuseok drawings.... i need to draw more characters in hanbok, hee hee. [link]

October: (breaths in) ...this is the month i finally gave into the JoGotcha wantings. LOOK. ever since someone put the idea into my brain i couldn't get enough of it, and like,, nobody draws the ship anymore so i had to take matters into my own hands. this is the first ship i'm this obsessed with. i usually leave ship stuff to other people but this time that wasn't enough and i... i had to do SOMETHING, y'know? [link]

Cringetober? who's that? haha;; i stopped feeling like doing the whole list after less than a week. impressive.

November: oh look, Plushy Power League. Quinn didn't win, but i do like the thing i drew as propaganda, so whateves. the first Papa Louie character i ever drew (minus Chuck and Taylor)... did i change how i draw her? uhh. maybe? i'm not too sure. [link]

also look! the keychain drawing... i need to talk about my Gods and Monsters au again at some point. actually, since i last uploaded the image of my keychain, i revised it tons... it's kinda different now, and i defos think it looks better. this is actually the time i finally fixed the stupid display setting thing that was really messing up my coloring! [link 1] [link 2]

December: ...oops! tablet broke. and i got my 3ds back so i just didn't draw that much even after exams were over. didn't stop me from drawing though, and in fact i think i made something pretty neat with my christmas art.... even if it did come one day late. [link]

wow. that's a whole year of stuff... and that's defos a lot! i think i'm really happy with what i drew this year.... i don't know what was in my water the last few years but my art highlights felt really.... miserable? for some reason. i mean, yeah, i didn't do a lot of what i had planned (GOE ANIMATIC IM SORRY) but i can see that i've done just as much with my hands anyways, so like, who cares? plus, i always have next year... that's coming in 3 hours, oh god- so, maybe i won't be too hard on myself for not fulfilling my goals... like, i kinda glossed over it, but i did sell my designs for money, and that's like, really impressive! so many people around me buy and sell their art stuff already, so i guess i didn't really register it as something to be proud of... but doing that shit (making, and marketing) is hard!! so like, it's a wow moment for me!

anyways, i'm tired, i only came back home a few hours ago, and i need to get up again for church in a few hours.... mrphgdjd. lets stop being sentimental, and i'll see you people next year. that's a long way off! hope you don't miss me.

#dalune recap #dalune recap 2023

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nelson-et-murdock · 2 years

Text

Falling - Foggy Nelson x Reader

Summary: Aftermath of a breakup with Foggy. Inspired by Falling by Harry Styles

Part two here

Pairing: Foggy Nelson x Fem!Reader (no y/n)

Warnings: Angst, arguments, alcohol and references to its consumption, no fluff like all aside from flashbacks

Word Count: 2.1k

Flashbacks in italics - Song lyrics italicized and bolded

I do not consent for my work to reuploaded, translated, or published on any sites unless done so by me

“You’re home late,” you said as Foggy walked in the door, not even bothering to look up from the book you were reading.

“I know baby, I’m sorry this case is just really difficult. It won’t happen again and if it does I’ll call first,” Foggy attempted to apologize. He knew you hated it when he didn’t tell you that he’d be coming home late.

“You said that last time,” you cut him off, frustration evident in your voice, You didn’t mean to get irritated with him or his work, he was always supportive of your work and the occasional late nights it brought you. Foggy let out a sigh as he made his way to the couch that you occupied, wanting to avoid any type of argument with you. He hated when the two of you argued, much less when it was because of something he did.

Foggy slowly made his way to you, sitting next to you and reaching out for you. You moved back at his movements, an attempt to distance yourself from him, something you had never done before.

It wasn’t long before an actual argument broke out, both of you throwing hurtful words that you didn’t mean at the other. “I can’t do this anymore,” you said, much quieter than the yelling that had been going on seconds before.

“What do you mean? The argument or us?” Foggy asked you, knowing what you meant but needing you to say it anyway.

“Us,” you responded, “at least not if it’s going to be this way all the time,” you said coldly in reference to him often coming home late and the arguments that seemed to be constantly happening lately.

Foggy nodded, turning towards the door before he spoke again, “I’ll be back for my stuff. You can keep the apartment,” he responded as he walked out the door.

In the time since the breakup, you became more jaded. You stopped doing things you enjoyed because it was all stuff the two of you would do together. You threw yourself into work, an attempt to keep yourself busy and your mind distracted. It wasn’t until today that you even realized how little the chance of ever getting Foggy back was.

You spent less time at Josie’s, choosing to frequent a sketchy bar closer to your apartment. As much as you didn’t enjoy the environment there, you knew that going to Josie’s meant a chance of running into Foggy. Given the circumstances, you weren’t even sure how seeing him again would go. You broke up with him, and while you wished he would have stayed, you were the one at fault. You started the fight and you told him it wasn’t working anymore. There wasn’t anything to say or do about it. Apologies wouldn’t erase the night, nothing would.

You hadn’t even gotten rid of all the pictures of the two of you together, a silent hope that one day he’d come back. That he’d forget about the hurtful words and how you were the one to end things between the two of you. He never did though, at least not yet. The flowers he had gotten you the day before the fight, now long dead, sat next to your favorite picture of the two of you - one that was taken by Karen when the two of you were unaware and laughing at something.

You carefully picked up the picture, examining it fondly missing Foggy and the overwhelming amount of joy he brought you. Tears prickled your eyes as the memories flooded back to you. “I really messed this one up,” you said to the empty room.

Nelson & Murdock had won another stressful case. Afterward, they had invited you to celebrate with them at Josie’s for a bit before all of you headed to Matt’s apartment.

After way too many drinks, Foggy started to tell another college story about him and Matt. You couldn’t pinpoint if it was the story itself or how many drinks you had consumed but you were laughing so hard that your stomach started to hurt.

“I love your laugh. I’ll tell every joke I can if I get to hear it forever,” Foggy whispered to you after finishing the story. You felt your face heat up as you attempted to hide the redness that now covered your cheeks.

After his confession to you, Foggy told every joke he could think of, most of them making him laugh before he even finished telling it. At one point, Karen snuck a picture of the two of you, knowing you’d want to keep it if things went further than the few dates the two of you had been on.

When the night came to a close, Foggy offered to walk you to your apartment. “Hey pretty, I have a question,” he said as the two of you reached your door.

“Yeah Fog?” you responded, turning to face him.

“So we’ve gone on a few dates and I was wondering if you’d actually be my girlfriend. I know it’s kinda soon but-“

You cut him off by throwing your arms around him and nodding, “Of course,” you said with a smile.

As you got lost in your memories, anger and sadness took over you and you threw the picture against your wall as you let out a mix of a scream and a gut-wrenching sob. Anger began to consume you, becoming all you felt at the situation. Anger towards yourself for telling Foggy to leave and for picking up almost constantly drinking again, anger towards Foggy for not fighting to stay like he promised he always would.

The first time the two of you fought was a bad one. You were extremely stressed from work and ended up taking it out on Foggy instead of communicating what was happening. The fight was over something small, he had come home late again and then had to take a call about a client in the middle of a movie the two of you were watching together, but the amount of stress you were under made you explode on Foggy.

As the two of you fought, tears threatened to spill over. Harsh words were thrown between the two of you for the first time, neither of you meaning what was said to the other. “You’re never home and even when you are home you’re a million miles away,” you said calmly yet full of anger.

“I’m sorry that helping people keeps me busy sometimes, however, my life doesn’t revolve around you. It was a 10-minute call and I came home all of a half-hour later than I told you I would today,” Foggy responded, trying to remain calm but clearly irritated, “Why are you acting so selfish over it?”

You realized halfway through the fight that you were overreacting and eventually broke down. Tears started to flow down your cheeks as he spoke, “I’m sorry,” you managed to say, barely above a whisper. “I should go. I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight and leave tomorrow morning,” you told him, turning to head into the other room.

Foggy let you head to the guest room, wanting to give you some space and time to cool off. While he let you have some space, he called and ordered take-out from your favorite restaurant, the place the two of you had your first date and made you a cup of tea. Once the food had arrived, he made his way to the guest room and slowly opened the door. “Hey, you’re not leaving tomorrow morning,” he softly spoke as he made his way towards the bed. “If you want space tonight you can sleep in here, but we aren’t breaking up over a stupid fight.” You looked up at him as he spoke, slowly nodding your head. Foggy sat next to you, handing you the cup of tea. “I know you don’t really want to leave, or else you would have done so during the argument,” he said as he wrapped his arms around you. “I love you, and I’m not letting you go that easy,” he assured you as he placed a kiss on your temple.

After your short outburst, your emotions started to regulate. You thought about calling Foggy, mainly to see if he would answer or not. However, something in you kept you from hitting dial each time you pulled up his contact. You doubted that he would want anything to do with you after the argument. “He would have called by now,” you told yourself as you set your phone down. You weren’t even sure if you would be able to salvage the relationship if you did talk to him. You had done so much damage, but your heart ached for him and for the way he made you feel that everything was going to work out for the first time.

You missed Foggy with every ounce of your being and knew that sitting at home wouldn’t change that he was gone and would likely not come back. You finally responded to Karen’s messages about going to Josie’s with her, telling her to meet you at your place first. What you didn’t know was that Karen and Matt were strategically trying to get you and Foggy back together. They both saw how hard the breakup was hurting you and that neither one of you really wanted to be apart from the other.

You changed into regular clothes, feeling that there was no point in actually getting dressed up to hang out with Karen. You were finishing getting ready when she walked into your apartment. “Matt wants to tag along, I told him to meet us there. I hope that’s okay,” she said as she walked into your room. You continued to hang out with both of them after the breakup, feeling that you didn’t need to stop being friends with them just because you were no longer dating Foggy. You silently nodded as you slipped your shoes on.

The two of you walked to Josie’s, holding a light conversation as you walked. “The office is lonely without you visiting on your lunch breaks,” Karen told you, “I mean Matt is fun to talk to but it’s not the same.”

You nodded quietly, missing how often the 4 of you would hang out. “Matt told me the same thing the other day,” you responded, “It’s probably for the best right now though. I’m sure Foggy is doing fine without me and it’s best I dont disturb that.”

Karen nodded, understanding that you felt that keeping distance from Foggy was probably best. When the two of you got to Josie’s, Matt met you outside and offered a sympathetic smile before pulling you into a hug. You smiled as you hugged him back before heading inside.

Upon entering, your eyes instantly landed on Foggy. Despite wanting to run at the sight of him, you forced yourself to take a few more steps in the direction of the bartop. That was until you saw the blonde next to him, laughing at something he said and how happy the two of them looked together. You saw Matt turn to Karen and start to say something before you interrupted him, “Did you know he’d be here?” you asked the two of them.

“Yes but this isn’t how it was supposed to go,” Matt responded.

“I told you that regardless of the fact that I miss him he’s better off without me and I was clearly right. It’s barely been a month and he’s already moved on to someone better,” you said, turning and walking out the door.

Foggy had heard the sound of your voice, a sound he had been wanting to hear since the day the two of you broke up, and turned to see the door close as you left. Matt shook his head as he walked towards him, “she’s gone.”

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