maggotzombie
the reckless
253 posts
ana, 20s, brazil MASTERLIST . TAGLIST . FIC RECS writing about dilfs . a RPF enthusiast
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maggotzombie ¡ 2 months ago
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I love the fix-its. I love the AUs. I love the missing moments. I love the canon compliants. I love the canon divergents. I love the drabbles. I love the song-fics. I love the crack fics. I love the smut fics. I love the crossovers.
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maggotzombie ¡ 1 year ago
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Hello Love, May I Please Request A Smut Where Pedro Pascal Is Injured From The Gym And Reader Doesn't Wanna Have Sex With Him Because She's Afraid To Hurt Him But He Convinces Her He's Okay Please?
gentle touches ; pedro pascal
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PAIRING — Pedro Pascal x Reader (fem) SUMMARY — Pedro has overdone his workout and is feeling the results on his body. You're trying to give him space but he has other plans. WORDS — 3,3k TW — 18+ MDNI!, established relationship, mention of minor injury, very explicit smut (unprotected sex, oral sex, vaginal intercourse, very slight spanking, creampie), some language (you know, the dirty talking kind). A/N — This was a challenge. I was not planning for this to be my first Pedro fic (I'm actually in the middle of writing what I thought it'd be lol) but my mind quickly started putting this together once I got this request but, at the same time, I everything I wrote didn't sound right. So it took a little while hehe Hope you like it, anon! 😘
— 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙
HE’S TRYING TO HIDE IT since he came back from the gym a couple of days ago and you’re pretending to not have noticed it. But can he really hide anything from your exceptionally vigilant eyes?
Pedro never was good at keeping things from you either. He usually spoils his own surprises because he’s way too excited about them so he ends up admitting what he’s been planning with a huge smile on his face. And, to be honest, you love how fast he talks when he’s telling you everything.
But, yeah, despite his trainer’s warnings, Pedro has overdone it in the gym and is feeling every bit of the consequences on his body. It doesn’t help that he’s not that young anymore and he’s also stubborn as fuck, even going as far as assuring you that everything’s fine when you ask him.
Either way, you’re giving him space to heal, not that he wants any. You’ve been positively ignoring the looks he has been giving you since you were doing a yoga routine in the living room yesterday.
You look up from the book you’re reading when Pedro walks into the room. His lips turn into a smile as soon as he sees you lying on the couch and he quickly makes himself comfortable on top of you, resting his head on your chest.
You chuckle, your fingers immediately burying in those amazingly soft chocolate locks of his. “What’s up, baby?” You ask opening your legs wider to accommodate his body.
“I’m bored,” His voice is a little muffled as he buries his face in your chest.
“Wanna go for a walk?” You suggest, looking down at the crown of his head.
“No, I'm not really in the mood to go out,” Your boyfriend says.
Figuring he’ll just tell you what he really wants at some point, you just say: “Okay,” And go back to your book, which you prop against his back.
Pedro rests his head more comfortably on your chest and you lower your hand from his hair to stroke his back absently. You don’t pay attention to his hands as he traces patterns in your skin but you can’t ignore the goosebumps they leave in their wake when Pedro caresses sensitive spots.
You catch yourself reading the same line multiple times before actually comprehending it. “What’s your book about?” He asks casually.
“Uhh… It’s a thriller,” You reply once you get your head together.
“It must not be that good, you’re not actually reading it,” Pedro comments, his hands carefully going from your hips to your thighs.
“Actually, it’s very good,” You frown, looking down at him. “What do you mean by that?”
He looks up at you with a slight smirk. “You haven’t flipped a page in five minutes.”
You scoff, embarrassed for getting caught right-handed. “That’s because you’re distracting me!” You point out. “Could you keep your hands to yourself, please?”
Still smirking, your boyfriend raises both hands before settling back down. But it doesn’t last too long. This time, he gets bolder and tucks his hands under your shirt, making you squirm under his touch.
“I have an idea,” He starts to pepper kisses on your chest. “Since you’re not that into that book and I’m bored, we could entertain each other.”
You don’t even reply because you’re so distracted by the way his nimble fingers tease one of your nipples over your bra. Your body begins to respond to the stimulation almost instantly, that sweet tingly sensation traveling down your spine and settling on your core.
Pedro’s lips against your chest make a shiver run through your body and he easily reaches up to your neck, nibbling on the sensitive skin before easing it out with his tongue. An involuntary moan slips past your lips as he suckles a hickey on that spot in your neck that makes you go insane.
When your brain starts to function again, you realize you’re tilting your head back to give him more access to your neck so he can continue his ministrations while your eyes are closed and you’re fisting his shirt.
Then it downs on you that it’s what he wants when he came looking for you. Which is fine, until you remember his injury.
“Hold on,” You abandon your book and pries Pedro’s face away from your neck with both hands on his shoulders. “I don’t think we shouldn’t have sex right now.”
He makes a face. “What? Why the fuck not?” He asks, confused.
“Honey, I don’t want to hurt you,” You thumb the spot on his cheek where his dimple appears when he smiles.
He shakes his head. “You’re not gonna hurt me, what are you talking about?” Your boyfriend reaches forward and attaches his lips to yours.
You don’t push him off you immediately. Instead, you kiss him back, getting lost in the sensation of his tongue in your mouth. Then you move him away again but not before biting on his bottom lip and eliciting a breathy groan out of him.
“I meant, more,” You say, panting slightly. “I don’t want to hurt you more,” You look down at his swollen lips as they look even more appealing now.
“I’m not hurt, baby,” He says, trying to go for another kiss but you stop him.
You glare at him. “Pedro,” You say and he sighs. “You know you can’t keep anything from me.”
“Okay! Yeah, I’ve got hurt in the gym a couple of days ago but it was a minor injury and I’m better now,” He confesses rapidly. “Can we fuck now? Because you’ve been killing me all this time with your yoga shit and these fucking tiny shorts,” Your boyfriend squeezes your ass and you can feel his erection when he presses you against himself.
You smirk at his confession. “Is that right?”
“Uh-huh,” Pedro hums, dipping his head to kiss your neck.
You feel your skin prickle with goosebumps in response to his lips and you close your eyes. “Are you sure?” You ask again in all seriousness. “Are you really better?”
“I’m fine,” He rasps, dragging his lips across your jaw.
You buckle your hips against him unwittingly and he moans at the friction. You end up locking your legs around his hips and, in desperation, you hold his jaw and bring his lips back to yours. Pedro gladly kisses you back, tucking his hands into your shorts.
Settling into the couch, something pokes into your back uncomfortably. “Hold on, hold on,” You push him away again.
At first, he thinks you’re about to protest again. But, when you remove the book you were reading from under you and throw it carelessly on the coffee table before pulling him down by his t-shirt, Pedro knows he’s won.
Your boyfriend smiles into the kiss and holds your hip with one hand while grabbing your thigh with the other. He presses his erection against your core again just to hear your sweet whimper.
But he’s not the only one that knows your weak spots and you quickly work to your advantage, lowering your kisses to his throat this time. In addition, you slip your own hands under his shirt, and his reaction from your nails running up his back is to buckle his hips again.
“Fuck, baby,” He hisses as you nip his neck.
You suckle a spot, giving in a hickey of your own before moving away to see the product of your work. But you get distracted at the look of him – his disheveled hair is pointing in every direction, his lips are swollen from your kisses, and his eyes are half-lidded, pupils blown with lust. Everything is a product of your work as well.
“You’re so sexy, corazón. Mi mamacita perfecta,” Your boyfriend murmurs, looking down at you as his hands slowly run up your sides, taking your shirt with them.
You nearly melt into a puddle at him speaking Spanish. “Yeah, papi?” You ask.
The look on his face at your choice of words is downright obscene and he says something in Spanish under his breath that you didn’t catch. It also does make him move more urgently, taking off your shirt more and throwing it somewhere in the living room.
Pedro kisses you fervently before trailing his kisses down your jaw and neck. You moan at the feeling of his hands kneading your breasts and teasing your nipples over your bra. He slips both hands under you when you arch your back and easily unclasps the undergarment as his mouth travels further south, nibbling on your collarbone.
“Tan hermosa,” His warm breath against your skin gives you goosebumps again and you shiver in expectation.
He peppers your chest with wet kisses until arriving at the valley of your breasts. Your boyfriend drags his soft lips against your skin and his mustache tickles you, but you love it. You arch your back again and Pedro chuckles against your skin, sensing your desperation for him to take your nipple into his mouth. He mumbles for you to calm down in Spanish and does what you wish.
Immediately, you tangle your fingers into his curls, moaning at the feeling of his tongue. After a bit, he switches to the other nipple but keeps teasing the previous one with his thumb.
Even though the sensation your his mouth on your tits is wonderful, you’re getting so aroused that it’s starting to ache.
Absently, you push his head down. “Baby,” You whine, squirming under him.
“What’s going on, corazón?” Pedro’s hair is even messier now. He tilts his head, cupping your back as he looks up at you. “Do you need me lower?” He kisses your underboob and then the spot above your navel. “Maybe here?” His fingertips brush your clit over your shorts.
“Y-yes,” You sound winded at the slight touch. “Please.”
“Since you asked so nicely,” He nuzzles your stomach before dragging his lips and nose down your belly button.
Pedro keeps spreading feather-like kisses down your body and the anticipation only makes you ache more for his touch. You know he’s in the mood for teasing when he doesn’t waste the time slipping both your shorts and panties down your legs. He does take his time kissing the way back up your legs though.
You know you’re embarrassingly wet as you could feel the air colder against your core. “Mami,” Pedro muses after kissing your knee. “You’re dripping wet.”
Your boyfriend runs his index finger across your folds, gathering some of your slick, and it nearly makes you burst into flames. “Baby, please,” You stutter, buckling your hips toward him once again. “Stop playing around and eat my pussy, papi.”
He groans, as you expected, and moves toward your core quickly. Throwing your left leg over his shoulder and pushing your right one to expose you more, Pedro dives in, licking a long stripe of your pussy right away. You moan loudly and shiver at the same time, knotting your fingers into his hair again.
The vision of Pedro buried in between your legs is something that you want to burn into your memory. The way his hair falls over his forehead and how he closes his eyes in focus as his tongue works, lapping out everything you have to give him like a starved man.
As usual, he eats you out perfectly, alternating between sucking your clit and flicking his tongue on your folds. “Fuck, baby,” You cry out, buckling your hips against his mouth. “Your tongue feels so fucking good.”
Your boyfriend groans and the vibration only adds to the feeling, making you throw back your head with a loud groan. You hold his head harder against your pussy and you lock eyes with him as he pushes two fingers into you.
“Oh, shit, papi,” You gasp, moving your hands to your breasts.
He moves his mouth away and licks his lips. “Does this feel good, mi vida?” Pedro asks, pumping his fingers in and out.
“Yes,” You close your eyes, focusing on the feeling of his fingers.
Pedro moves one of your hands away from your boob and covers it with his own, pinching the nipple with his nimble fingers. The added sensation makes you clench around his fingers and he curses in Spanish, reattaching his mouth to your clit.
The combination of his tongue flickering quickly on your bundle of nerves and his fingers scissoring inside you has your legs quivering.
“Oh, God. No, baby, stop,” You ask, panting. You push his head away. “Stop,” You repeat. “I need your cock. I want to cum on your cock.”
“You will, baby girl,” Your boyfriend reassured you but keeps moving his fingers.
You reach out and grab his face, making him look at you. “I want your cock inside me right now, Pedro,” You demand more firmly.
He nods, pulling his fingers away. “Yes, vida.”
Pedro pushes his fingers into his mouth and sucks them clean as you sit up to help him out of his clothes. You remove his shirt but he attaches his lips to yours before you could do the same with his shorts. Even so, you reach out and pull his shorts and boxers briefs down to his thighs.
He opens his mouth but whatever he is about to say dies on his lips as you take him in your hands. Instead, your boyfriend groans and immediately thrusts into your fist. You pump his length a few times and he pulses in your hand, ready to stretch you out. So you line him up at your entrance without waiting for him to fully remove the rest of his clothes.
Pedro fills you up with a thrust, pulling loud noises out of both of your throats. “Fuck, corazón,” He rasps with his eyes closed, basking at the sensation of you squeezing him. “You feel so good.”
“You too, baby,” You say, searching for his lips. “You’re so big,” You gasp.
He kisses you and starts to move slowly. You moan as he stretches you out, wrapping your legs around his waist, your brain turning into mush. As the pace starts to get more rapid, you stick your nails to your boyfriend’s back, mewling as he nibbles on your neck and collarbone.
When Pedro grabs your left leg, raising your knee to waist level, your eyes roll to the back of your head. The new position gives him more space to move and makes his cock reach new spots inside you.
“Oh, shit,” You cry out, holding to him tighter.
“Yeah, baby?” Your boyfriend huffs, looking at you. “Do you like it like that?”
“Y-yes,” You whimper, grasping onto his arm. “Yees, papi, like that.”
You don’t even need to ask him to go faster because he does it as soon as you stop talking. The sound of his hips slapping against your thighs starts to get louder, echoing around the room along with your moans as he fucks you into the couch.
After a little bit, Pedro’s movements start to slow down. “Hold onto me, corazón,” He says.
“Huh?” Your lust-induced brain doesn’t quite register what he says.
Instead of repeating, your boyfriend wraps an arm around you and pushes both of you off the couch. He sits down with you on his lap and manages to remove his shorts and underwear, spreading his legs wider.
Pedro looks up at you, settling back against the backrest cushions. “I want to watch you ride my cock, princesa,” He says.
You smirk, resting both hands on his shoulders and starting to bounce on his length. “Like this?”
He rests his head back and closes his eyes. “Sí, bonita,” Pedro moans.
You giggle and, without halting your movements, you cup his face and kiss him. Your boyfriend rests his hands on your hips and you bite his bottom lip, causing him to squeeze your flesh.
Pedro’s attentive eyes rake over your body as you ride him, his hands following it sometimes. He cups your breasts, kneading them before guiding his mouth to capture your nipples again. You cradle his head, encouraging him to go on as your fingers massage his scalp.
He begins to thrust his hips up when your movements falter with fatigue. To keep meeting his movements, you readjust your body, resting your forearms around his shoulder to use the backrest of the couch as support.
At the same time, a slap to your right ass cheek startles you slightly but it also fuels your desire. Another slap to the other cheek has you whimpering lewdly and your boyfriend groans, holding onto your hips and helping your movements up and down on his cock.
You pull on his hair to make him look at you and he groans, grinning when he looks up at you. You take his lips and moan into his mouth as you grind your hips against his, enjoying the way your clit rubs against him. Pedro catches on to that and guides his thumb there.
A bolt of electricity makes you shiver the moment he starts to rub you and you throw your head back, cradling his neck as he looks up at you, rocking against him urgently.
He can sense your orgasm building up by the way your pussy starts to squeeze him. So he keeps toying with your clit as you return to bounce on him with more purpose, snapping your hips down onto him.
Your mewls don’t make a lot of sense anymore and Pedro’s groan joins your sounds. Craving more speed, he wraps both of his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest as fucks you faster than before.
You scream, burying your nails on the cushions as your orgasm takes over you, your body trembling against Pedro. He doesn’t let you go and keeps fucking you through your orgasm, your pussy squeezing him deliciously and milking him perfectly.
“Fuck, baby girl,” Your boyfriend gasps. “Look at me,” He asks, feeling his cock swell.
You rest your forehead against his and he becomes more vocal, howling and shivering slightly as his thrusts start to falter. His cum coats your walls and he keeps fucking it further into you with the last snaps of his hips before slowing down to a stop.
None of you can form any coherent sentence and the only sound in the room is from your heavy breathing. With his cock still inside of you, your body keeps convulsing on top of him with aftershocks. Pedro curses when your pussy squeezes him again.
A soothing hand starts rubbing your back, easing you off the orgasm as your heart continues to race. He finds your lips and he kisses you sweetly, a stark contrast from the way he was fucking you literally a minute ago.
“Are you alright, corazón?” He rasps, his voice thicker.
“Yeah,” You croak out, raising your head from his and cupping his face. “Are you?”
“Fucking A, baby girl,” Pedro replies with a lazy smile and you chuckle.
“Does anything hurt?” You raise an eyebrow, playing with the hair at the base of his neck.
“Not right now,” He says truthfully. “The only thing I can feel is your sweet pussy making me hard again,” You roll your eyes but keep smiling. “Do you know you drive me crazy when you call me papi?”
“Why, honey. That’s why I do it,” You giggle at his face when you tell him that.
Once again, Pedro surprises you by lifting you up in his arms swiftly. You yelp, both in surprise and at the feeling of his cock sliding out of you. You begin to leak on him, but he doesn’t seem to care as he gets up from the couch.
You clutch onto him, looking at him questingly. “I’m gonna fuck your brains out in the shower,” He says, determined.
“Ay, ay, papi!” You say and giggle when he grunts, shaking his head.
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maggotzombie ¡ 1 year ago
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woman, let me tell you somethin’… i read this a couple days ago, at two in the morning because anxiety and insomnia, and this has been replying in my head ever since – and thank the heavens, because i had to write something about it lol
this is so perfect and HAWT! 🥵 i’ve just read it once again because i wish to burn it on my memory. could you do a TED talk on how to write such a detailed but easy-to-read smut, pretty please? IT’S MY BIGGEST GOAL.
once again, amazing details and ambiance (sorry, i’m a journalist. idk the right term in the creative writing world 🫠). i live in a fantasy headspace, so i can easily picture everything but you had to add additional imagery of our Greek god in question, huh? i know i shouldn’t but my legs divorced and i’m deceased at the scene of the panic attack 😮‍💨
also, i LOVE LIVE LAUGH in that interaction with Benny (such a sweetheart 🥹).
all in all, stellar work, love! you’re not only keeping it good but you’re improving it with each chapter. i’m so excited
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Breathe
Part 4
Pairing: Will 'Ironhead' Miller x female reader
Words: 6.7k
Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Swearing. Nightmare and anxiety attack. Unprotected intercourse. It's very, very sweaty 💦💦💦
Summary: You stay for an eventful night with Will, helping him through an anxiety attack brought on by a nightmare, all while learning more about each other and taking advantage of his amplified energy and restlessness.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
---
The room was completely dark aside from the faint glow of silvery moonlight shining in through the blinds, allowing you to see some of the things that occupied it, although your sleepy gaze was focused on Will.
It was unclear what had woken you up; the feel of a heavy body cast across yours that you weren't used to, the foreign sounds of a different house creaking as it settled into the subtly cooler temperature of the night, or simply every part of you rousing to tell you it needed more of him.
You were sure you wouldn't have fallen asleep if your body wasn't so exhausted, your mind buzzing from everything that had happened in the span of a few hours and what was meant to be a typical night at the gym, and although you knew you needed more sleep, there was no way it would come back to you now.
Feeling half-tempted to reach for Will's arm to check the time on his black watch still secured around his wrist, you decided against it, not wanting to wake him when he seemed so peaceful on top of you. To be honest, you would vow to never sleep again if it meant for nights like this, and you prayed there would be plenty of opportunities with him so that you wouldn't feel the need to stay awake in order to make the most of what time you were sure you did have.
You tried not to think of all the 'what if's' and questions about what this was or what it could be, but part of your mind couldn't help but remind you of the reality that Will likely wasn't ready to jump into another relationship any time soon, making you wonder what his earlier confessions of going all-in included.
Were you even ready to consider any form of relationship if that was what it turned into? Knowing Will came with some emotional baggage, could you put your heart at risk of being whisked away so easily while hanging on in anticipation of it being broken?
Will stirred slightly, his muscles twitching as he dreamt, his brow knitted tightly together while his breaths grew shallower and quicker.
Yes, you told yourself, smoothing your hands across his broad back, hoping to grant him some relief from whatever was going through his afflicted mind.
Terrified as you were to let yourself become so vulnerable, you also felt a sense of excitement at what was to come, your heart, body and mind all tingling in tandem that maybe you and Will would trust each other enough to explore everything possible together.
Your fingers idly traced patterns over his shoulder and at the nape of his neck, catching in his golden hair as you did your best to calm your own breathing, letting your eyes close in the process.
Somehow in the midst of your racing thoughts, you managed to succumb to sleep again, your body winning the war in prioritizing the exquisite comfort of Will's warmth and embrace over your restless psyche.
Will slowly blinked into awareness, differing from all the times he startled awake from a nightmare or the sensation of his sweat soaking his bedding until it became too uncomfortable to tolerate, a sigh of relief passing his lips the second he registered the cause for his rare, restful sleep. A weak smile formed on his lips, seeing you sleeping beneath him, your chest rising and falling in a calm rhythm at his sightline as he lifted his head up off your stomach.
He grunted quietly as he shifted, worried he would no doubt have made your legs fall asleep from the weight of his body trapping them for so long, the sticky mess left behind from earlier clinging to his lower abs and tangling in his pubes while the same coated all between your legs.
Christ, he needed to shower.
His skin was tacky, the sheets below you that remained undisturbed too hot to be under, the humidity from outside creeping into the house even though the temperature had dropped since the sun had disappeared. His workout alone had warranted a shower, and now with two rounds of intense sex on top of it, he was hardly able to handle the smell of himself. Had you been awake, he would've suggested taking a cool one together, but seeing as you were still sound asleep he moved to lay beside you, resting on his side so his front was facing you and helped guide you onto your own side where your bum nestled comfortably against his cock.
Will wrapped his arm around your middle, pulling you closer to him, a lazy smile dressing his lips when you reciprocated by holding onto it with your hands. He buried his face in your neck; Fuck, do you ever smell good, he thought, no longer wanting to shower with you in fear your scent would be replaced by whatever body wash he had on the shelf.
A quiet hum passed your lips as you settled against him even more, warranting a kiss on your neck, and then another, and as he covered even more of your body with his, nudging your legs apart for one of his thighs to nestle between, he thought how a shower could never trump this.
The sound of a door closing somewhere in the house startled you awake, unused to hearing it and always fearing you would since you lived alone, but quickly found calm again in feeling Will's body still draped over yours, only on your back this time, making you smile at having found such a comfortable position in your sleep.
Your mouth felt dry, and you tallied how little water you had actually drank that day, remembering you hadn't had any after your workout on account of the distraction sleeping on top of you.
Able to see the time on Will's watch, you decided it best you get up to get a drink, fearing you would lay there thinking about how thirsty you were for hours since dawn was still a few away.
Will only stirred slightly after you slipped carefully out of his hold, leaving him sprawled out on top of the covers, taking a moment to admire how even in his sleep his limbs and especially his ass were still perfectly shaped.
With one glance around the room you remembered your gym clothes had been left discarded somewhere in the front of the house, and you weren't about to trot naked through the Miller's residence with Benny home.
As quietly as possible, you pulled open the top drawer of the wood dresser against the wall, finding it full of precisely folded t-shirts just as you hoped you would. You slipped one over your head, inhaling the smell of his detergent that somehow smelt fresher than yours ever did, now in need to find something to cover your lower half.
The next drawer over kept his boxers - again, with each piece neatly stacked - and you chose one of many navy blue pairs to slip your legs into.
Checking again to make sure Will was still asleep, you opened the door and walked down the hallway, following the sound of the tv coming from the living room.
It didn't surprise you that Benny had sharp hearing, having immediately looked over as you approached, watching his face change from confusion to amusement.
"Hello," he drawled, trailing out the word longer than it needed to be before taking a sip of the beer he held in his hand.
You gave a slightly awkward wave, suddenly feeling coy, before opening your mouth to back up your reason for walking around in his brother's underwear.
"I just need a drink," you explained.
"Help yourself," he permitted, glancing back at the MMA fight on the tv. You skirted around the couch, moving into the kitchen that had a partial wall separating the two rooms, allowing you to still have a view of where Benny sat as well as the tv.
His arm rested casually over the back of the couch, his eyes fixed on the screen as you opened a few cupboards in search of a glass.
"Far right," he advised, knowing you were struggling in your task without needing to look.
"Thanks."
Filling up the glass and downing it quickly, you glanced around, taking in the slightly outdated, but well-kept and tidy kitchen, beginning to feel guilty that you had made a mess of the entryway by leaving your sweaty, sex-stained clothes strewn about.
After refilling it, you started walking back through, taking another sip as you passed by behind the couch.
"Looks like you two had fun," Benny quipped, disguising his grin with his beer as you nearly choked and spit out your water. "Where's Will?" he asked, saving you from having to respond to his friendly jab.
"Sleeping," you answered, pausing in getting back to his room.
"Really?" he glanced over his shoulder at you, quizzically.
You nod and give a slight shrug, unsure why he seemed so shocked.
"You must've really done a number on him," he said slyly, his eyebrows raising on his head and his blue eyes strikingly similar to his brother's with how they held a playful glint in them, his grin nearly glowing in the light from the tv.
"Why do you say that?"
"Will doesn't sleep all that much."
Benny was so matter-of-fact in his statement, making you pause even longer than you intended to. He held your gaze, one side of his mouth turning upward in a smile that you thought might be in thanks before he turned back to the fight and put the can back up to his lips.
You forced your feet to move, hesitating for a moment again when you heard Benny's loose voice sound out again.
"Get some sleep."
His comment held some implication, and you matched his chuckle, continuing on your way and stooping to pick up both yours and Will's mess of sweaty gym clothes as you went, feeling your heart beating a little faster in hopes you would find Will still sound asleep.
You smiled when you opened the door to see him in the exact position as when you had left, flat out on his stomach with one leg hooked up, the moon highlighting the perfect curve of his ass and capturing the soft fuzz covering it, turning the tousled hair on his head silvery. Without sound, you carefully folded and placed your clothes on top of the dresser, gathering from how well the rest of the house was kept that he would appreciate the gesture, and slowly slipped back on top of the covers beside him.
Without missing a beat, Will draped his arm over your waist and pulled you into him, his leg falling heavily on yours to keep you there, his torso once again covering your back like a shield. The steadiness of his breathing helped settle you back to the same level of comfort you had experienced prior to getting up, making you close your eyes with the hope morning didn't come too soon.
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He knew it would happen despite how much he prayed it wouldn't; the feverish temperature of his crawling skin making him jar awake, his breathing sharp and laboured as he struggled to get air into his lungs quickly enough, the sheets sticking to him uncomfortably. Will bolted upright, swinging his legs over the side of the bed where he hung his head between his legs, running a hand over his forehead to collect the unbelievable amount of sweat that made it seem like someone had dumped water over him and flicked it down onto the floor.
He didn't flinch when he felt the mattress dip and your hand rest on his shoulder that managed to be burning hot and freezing cold all at once, sighing a shaky exhale in frustration that he'd woken you up and you were seeing him like this.
"I'm okay," he grumbled, clenching his teeth to try to feign away the flourishing panic attack; its persistence as steady as ever.
His hands gripped the edge of the bed so hard his arms shook, his inhales quickly turning into wheezes as he lost the battle against calming them, the sweet sound of your voice gently urging him to breathe like a distant echo in his ringing ears.
Even with his eyes open he couldn't focus on any single thing; the floor beneath his feet blurry, the visions of what had woken him up in the first place swirling about like the begrudging nightmare they always were.
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"Will, look at me," you spoke, your words firm and coming in a little more clearly to him. You cupped his face and forced his head toward you, moving to kneel beside him, the sight of you in one of his t-shirts and pair of boxers confusing him and helping to bring him out of his head for a second.
"Breathe," you requested, exaggerating your own inhale with your lips puckered slightly, his eyes drawn to your chest that rose as it inflated. You exhaled slowly, and like he was participating in a fucking lamaze or yoga class, he mimicked you, the pain in his chest deminishing with each series of breaths.
He had never come down from a nightmare followed by a panic attack so quickly before, amazed at your ability to help without hesitation, his eyes finally able to focus on your face and the look of concern and understanding it held. Grabbing under your thighs, Will pulled you onto his lap, looking up at you wearily, but appreciatively.
"Thank you," he whispered, resting his nose against your collarbone through his shirt.
“Of course,” you assured, wrapping your arms around him once you knew it was okay to, feeling his tensed muscles flex as they attempted to relax the strain held in them.
In all the years Will had suffered these panic attacks and nightmares, no one but Benny or one of the guys ever comforted him as easily as this. His lips moved against the cotton covering your skin as he recalled all the times his ex would leave the bed in a huff and go sleep on the couch, upset with him for disrupting her sleep for yet another night, resulting in a blow up in the morning that he eventually couldn't see the value in taking the energy to fix.
The steadiness of your hands rubbing all along his slippery back held just the right amount of pressure to help him focus on that rather than the grief in his head, your respect in not asking if he was okay or what had triggered it making him feel inclined to share it with you anyway. The stark difference in how you didn't shy away or grimace as you carefully touched your lips to his sweat coated forehead compared to how his ex would immediately tear the drenched sheets off the bed was enough to make his heart warm and swell rather than increase its pounding speed that racked the top of his rib cage; her reaction causing his anxiety to climb rapidly as if he had any control over how his body responded to the terrors his mind provided while he slept.
Even if this was the one and only time he had you to see him through a nightmare, Will knew he would hold onto this comforting feeling as long as he could to help him through the ones that would inevitably come in the future.
He sighed deeply, his breath coming out hot against your chest as he held his face directly on it, inhaling the scent of your skin more so than his laundry detergent when he drew in another long, slow breath, the sound of your heartbeat now louder to him than his own. Rubbing his nose back and forth a couple of times before lifting his head from the asylum of your body, he looked up at you and smiled easily, seeing the worry on your face disappear.
"When did you put this on?" he asked, his fingers plucking the excess material of his shirt from the center of your chest.
You smiled back, a sense of relief in your voice. "I got up to get water a little while ago."
Will looked over at his nightstand, seeing a half-full glass sitting on a folded tissue, making him aware of how dry his mouth felt.
You leaned over and grabbed it, holding it between you for him to take where he downed it quickly, and lost in awe of him, you reached out and let your fingers trail down his neck where his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed.
"Do you need more?" you asked, allowing your hand to rest on his chest.
"I'm okay," he said simply, extending his long arm to place the empty glass back on the table. He looked at you seriously, his blue eyes full of emotion, making you wonder just how much hurt lay beneath them, his gaze falling to your lips as his head tilted to the side. "What I do need is you."
He swallowed your small gasp of surprise when his mouth slotted with yours, his tongue delving into your mouth in a gentle, but confident demand. You arched into him as his hands carded up your back and beneath his shirt, the heat from his palms radiating onto your tacky skin, the sensation making you deepen the kiss and roll your hips on his bare lap. Growing quickly from your touch, his cock pressed up against your core, allowing the thin material of his boxers separating you to rub against your refreshed wetness.
You moaned into him, losing yourself in that craveable sensation, your hands moving more desperately on each other at the same time breathing became an afterthought.
Will whisked his shirt off of you, capturing your lips again to resume where he had left off, his beard feeling scratchier now on your chin that was already raw from too many aggressive passes of it. You couldn't care less, hoping he would burn the skin right off of you and steal your last breath if it meant him continuing on like this, his eagerness to taste you like a drug you would let consume you.
You reluctantly removed yourself from his lap, needing to feel his wanting flesh against yours, hurriedly peeling his boxers down your legs while maintaining the movement of your lips on each other. Strong hands gripped around your legs and guided you back onto him, your cry breaking the seal of your kiss as he seated you down on his length.
Will's chest rumbled beneath your palms as he growled in restraint before beginning to move his hips upward into you, feeling the strong muscles in his quads strain under your bum as he used them to power his thrusts. One of his arms supported him on the mattress while the other wrapped securely around your back, keeping you as close to him as possible and aiding in forcing you down onto him so your clit rubbed on his golden pubes.
Everything had you building up so quickly; the feel of his lips on your neck, his hand gripping you tightly, his cock berating your pussy that took him like it had already committed every inch of him to muscle memory, your body submitting to his every touch that made you almost feel weak for not being able to hold out longer before you were clenching around him.
"Will…" you whined, attempting to steady and slow yourself by bouncing up and down off of him instead of grinding, only to result in him bucking up into you harder to coax out what you tried to delay.
"That's it, come for me," he panted, putting out even more energy into ending you.
The way his voice spoke those words made you stop all efforts in preventing yourself from coming, finally giving in and letting your body sit heavily on his, riding him hard until that blinding, white heat barrelled through you and took control over every nerve in your body and your orgasm racked through you like electricity.
"Fuck, don't stop," he shouted, the roughness of his tone and the way he clawed at your back with his hand and nipped at your neck and shoulder signalling he was close to filling you up again. You didn't dare disobey him, desperate to feel him spill inside your walls, exhausting all your efforts to prevail in riding him until he told you you could stop.
"Keep going, baby - Fuck!" His growling demand and increase in pace threw you into a second climax, the feel of his cum slipping out of your tingling pussy and lubricating your swollen clit making you scream through it as he remained unrelenting in his fucking of you.
Still pulsing inside you, Will grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you to his mouth, roughly claiming yours and stealing your air before you were able to take another panting breath.
Your rocking movements eventually slowed to nothing despite your kisses increasing in fervor, instead squeezing him in a torturous rhythm that had him tug at your bottom lip with his teeth as he pulled away.
"We need to shower," he stated, his eyebrows rising on his forehead as he looked up at you.
You giggled softly, "Hmm, yeah I think so," your hands slipping over his skin that was coated in another layer of sweat on top of all the other ones that had barely dried.
Staying inside you, Will wrapped his arms around your body and stood, holding onto you securely as he moved through the room, your head resting on his shoulder with your arms locked around his neck and legs snaked around his torso like a vice.
As you entered the bathroom, you could feel him begin to slip from you, and noticing the same, Will shifted and pushed you closer to his body to try to keep himself locked inside.
Reaching in the shower to flick on the taps, he wasted no time in stepping in, not bothering to wait for warm water to make its way out of the showerhead, using his body as a barrier as he placed himself between you and the water.
It came as a shock when you didn't hear a sizzling sound when the cool water hit his back that was still aflame, the blatant relief he felt from it coming out in a long sigh as he let his head tip back into the stream.
Realizing he was out of you now, you let your toes hit the floor of the shower, barely trusting yourself to stand on your shaky legs, admiring the relaxed expression on the face of the worn man in front of you.
Feeling his cum seep out of you and down your thigh and not caring to do anything about it, you reached for the bottle of shampoo on the ledge and squeezed some out in your palm, rubbing your hands together before lifting them up to lather it into his blond hair that was now darkened by the water and laying flat against his head.
After a few minutes of indulging in your nails running back and forth across his scalp, Will did the same for you, his blue eyes alight and vibrant again as he watched your skin react in a fury of goosebumps while suds rolled down your body.
Even though he was working on treating you, you couldn't stop touching him, roaming all across his porcelain skin languidly, your hands on him making him feel as if he hadn't had enough already, his veins still coursing with a lingering adrenaline that only seemed to grow the more your bodies contacted.
When he was finished washing your hair, he stepped behind you, pressing his body up against your backside to urge you forward into the water so your face came out on the other side of the stream and your hair was in direct line with it. His fingers carefully ran through your tresses to rinse the shampoo out, watching intently to your body's response to his caressess, your head leaning into his hands heavily as you tipped it to the side, letting the water fall onto your neck and shoulder where his gaze followed the rivers down your breasts.
Unable to resist, he attached his lips to the column of your neck, licking and sucking at your skin that still held a remnant of salt, his hands sliding down your sides to distribute the soap all over your body.
Peeling his hands off of you before he wouldn't be able to, Will grabbed the body wash and dispensed some in his hand, roughly lathering it all over his front and around his cock before pressing up against your back once more. He groped at you again, sliding his body up and down against yours, the way the soap made your ass slick making it difficult for him to keep a leisurely, controlled pace and not simply ram into you and start fucking you mercilessly. He was hard again instantly, his dick too easy to fall between your cheeks and threaten to slip into one of your holes, his freshly settled heart rate increasing rapidly and sending blood pulsing to his head that rubbed all along your soapy flesh.
Will growled against your shoulder, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses over to your neck, his hands alternating between squeezing at your hips and ass and up to your tits, pinching your nipples to make you moan and arch back into him. He felt wild, unable to focus less now than he had through his panic attack, his only mission to see how much your screams would echo in the noise of the shower.
Fueled by that thought and the way you ground your ass against his aching cock, he let his hand travel down between your legs, driving his index finger as far as it could inside you before adding his middle finger too, pumping them in and out only a couple of times until you were writhing against him, your head thrown back to rest on his shoulder. He knew you would be over-stimulated, your tight pussy already having taken a beating three times from him now, but the Captain in him was set on testing your limits. His fingers moved from between your folds up to your clit, harshly pressing on it as he stroked the swollen bud with brisk motions, causing you to shudder involuntarily and him to chuckle beside your ear.
"You gonna be okay, baby?" he asked, the tone of his voice betraying the genuinity of care in his question.
Your quick nod and the way you ground down onto his hand gave him all the permission needed to continue, and putting use to all the buzzing energy still going through his system, Will removed his hand from you and spread your cheeks apart, slamming into you in one brutal go. Adrenaline fed his pace, his thrusts quick and purposeful as he dragged his length in and out of your tight walls so forcefully he knew he would be making you sore, your wails of unhinged pleasure encouraging him to sink further into the space in his mind where he saw nothing but red.
Despite his barbaric treatment, you took him so well, begging him for more, your sweet voice calling for him to go harder while your body fit and molded to his like a missing piece, accepting each blow so well.
Sending him into a tailspin, you grabbed his hand that was tearing at the flesh of your breast and guided it down so his fingertips settled on your clit again, instantly making you rock your hips more to take even more pleasure from him, allowing him to feel your climax build as you clenched around him like a vice. He worked even harder, fucking through your tight pussy to reach your deepest point and back out again, his assault only progressing as he became intoxicated by your screams and the squelching sounds from both the water on your skin and his cock ramming into your soaked cunt.
Using what remained of the energy he had pent up from his anxiety attack, Will pulled out of you and turned you around, lifting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist, his cock driving back into you as he pressed your back against the shower wall. He was desperate to kiss you, needing to feel your lips on his in a way that made this feral handling of you feel more intimate, even though he didn't let up on his pace. Your hands found his face and held it more tenderly than he deserved, deepening your kiss more, prompting him to growl into your mouth almost frustratedly as he gave his final thrusts and came with an exhausting force.
Will felt like he would crumble apart if it wasn't for your limbs wrapped around him as if you were holding him together, the slow roll of your tongue giving him something calm to keep his racing mind fixed on. He carefully pulled out of you and helped you stand on your own, still kissing you as he struggled to catch his breath, his chest rising and falling sharply. Pivoting his body slightly so you were both back under the stream of water, he let it rain down to wash you both, his hands massaging your skin in soothing patterns that was more for his own benefit to relax.
You jolted when his hand grazed your sex that was beyond sensitive now, his fingers stilling as he registered the hesitation in your kiss.
"Did I hurt you?" he asked quietly, his brows knitted together as he looked at you seriously.
"No, of course not," you reassured, "I'm just very sensitive and a little sore." Noting the guilt on his face you continued, "A good sore."
"Okay," he smiled weakly, resting his forehead against yours and closing his eyes. "I'll be gentle."
He made good on his word, washing you with a tenderness that made your heart sing, the way he held your chin with his other and stroked his thumb along your cheek making you vow to give this man the world.
Out of the shower and depleted of all energy, Will sauntered back to his room with you, not bothering to wrap himself in a towel or even dry off, his only goal now to hit his mattress and try to get some sleep in before the sun crept up with the passing hours.
The smell of sex and sweat filled the room, revealing just how much effort both of you had exuded in your time together, and seeing the dark stains on the top cover from his profuse sweating, Will tore it off the bed and crawled in on top of the lesser-tainted sheets.
You stood at the end of the bed, gently running your towel through your hair to soak up the excess water, watching as he settled in comfortably with his legs slightly spread, sighing out loudly when he put his arm above his head.
"Are you joining me, or what?" he asked, his eyes closed and voice hoarse, a loose smile tugging at one corner of his lips.
"Do you still want me to?"
Your question forced his eyes open and made him prop himself up on his elbow, looking at you both seriously and a little confused.
"Why would you say that?"
You shrugged, regretting saying it based on the wounded expression on his face. "I just don't want to overwhelm you, Will, I don't want to make you feel…suffocated, or like this is all moving too fast."
He scoffed, his smile and shake of his head worrying you.
"Do you want to go?" he challenged, the steeliness of his blue eyes making your mouth feel dry.
You shook your head no, offering your hand to him when he extended his out, allowing him to pull you closer to the bed where he continued to hold your gaze. "To be fair, I haven't checked if you needed to get home for any reason, and you don't have your car…"
You laughed when he did, letting yourself sink onto the mattress where you kneeled beside him.
"I'm not going anywhere, Will," you whispered, your words holding more promise than just being for the rest of the night.
His thumb smoothed over your knuckles, and looking down at the connection of your hands, he spoke freely.
"I may not be sure of a single fucking thing in my life right now, but I do know that being with you sure feels damn right." He looked up at you, the creases on his forehead brought out as his eyebrows rose up, the boyish look in his eyes and his crooked smile making your heart flutter wildly. "It doesn't mean I'm not scared shitless, though."
Appreciating his honesty, you gave his hand a firm squeeze before bringing it up to your lips where you kissed across his knuckles, not wanting to over-do it by telling him you would never hurt him but needing to show him in some way. You trailed down his arm, peppering your lips slowly across the one that bore his smaller tattoo of the eagle, feeling his eyes sear your skin as he watched you worship him, your tongue threatening to tell him how you thought every piece of him was a work of art and not just the parts decorated by his tattoos.
He settled back into the bed, his long exhale sounding like one of contentment to your ears, prompting you to slide your body down to rest beside him, your mouth traveling from his arm to his chest until you were face to face.
"I'm still all-in," he murmured, his nose nudging yours as he gathered your hand and placed it between your chests.
"Me too."
The sound of Benny messing around in the kitchen was unmistakable and undoubtedly what woke Will, his eyes adjusting to the bright morning light when he forced his eyes open. He groaned and peeled his heavy arm off the mattress to check his watch; 8:12.
"Jesus Christ," he muttered to himself quietly, thinking how he hadn't slept this late since he was a kid, the reason behind it still sleeping peacefully beside him.
With a smile that he tucked between his teeth, Will got out of bed, keeping a watchful eye on you to make sure he didn't wake you up as he grabbed the towel you had used and wrapped it around his waist and moved toward the door.
He smiled again, noticing the pile of neatly folded, but dirty clothes on top of his dresser, and grabbed them before heading out the door.
The smell of something warm and sweet greeted him as he stalked down the hallway, his muscles feeling leaded with each step.
"Yo, Benny," he called, reaching the kitchen, but his brother was nowhere to be found.
A stack of freshly made pancakes sat on a plate beside the stove, a handwritten note left behind to explain them.
Chocolate chip protein pancakes
Heard you two burnin' a lot of cals…
Gym rats who fuck like bunnies gotta replace that lost protein.
Eat up.
Will’s stomach rumbled at the same time his chest did as he laughed, picking up one of the still-warm pancakes and folding it in half to shove in his mouth. The last time he was this hungry had to have been on a mission, but he thought how he would happily trade food any day for all the things he did with you last night.
Glancing around the kitchen in search of his phone, Will finally spotted it on the opposite counter where he usually kept it, no doubt having been placed there by Benny after finding it discarded on the floor along with everything else, his truck keys beside it.
You're a good man, Benny, he text after grabbing it, thankful to have his little brother around to look after him more than ever.
Making his way around the corner to the laundry room, Will lifted the lid on the washing machine and tossed his gym clothes in before sorting through yours and carefully checking the washing instructions on them. He dispensed the cheap, discount brand detergent into it and hoped the low quality wouldn't ruin anything, never really having to care too much about what would happen to his or Benny’s clothes.
Back in the kitchen, he reached for two mugs out of the cupboard beside the sink along with two water glasses and filled them up, once again appreciating Benny's generosity and attention to detail for putting a fresh pot of coffee on before leaving.
After rummaging through all the cabinets for a suitable tray to carry everything back to his room on and coming up empty, Will settled on a shallow cardboard box Frankie had brought fresh oranges over in the week before, placing the plate of pancakes, syrup, cutlery and drinks in it, and made his way out of the kitchen.
His phone buzzed as he passed it, and pausing to check the text displayed on the screen, he grinned and continued down the hallway.
Benny: I know
The towel around his waist hung loosely on his hips by the time he reached his door, pushing it open gently with his elbow and smiling when he set eyes on you still sleeping and all curled up in the spot he had been. The sheets were twisted around your bare body, tangled with your limbs and scarcely covering you, the way the cotton material cradled your skin looking so inviting and making him wish it was him.
Forgetting his hunger, Will set the box down on his dresser and untucked the portion of towel barely holding it on and let it fall to the floor, feeling the mattress dip to his weight as he kneeled on it and framed your body with his.
Unable to resist, he lowered himself until his face met your exposed thigh, pressing his lips against it once, and then again, ghosting them up until he reached your hip, having missed the sensation of your skin on his lips even though it hadn't been long since he last felt it.
He breathed in slowly, his eyes closing as your scent swam through every part of him, awakening his most primal needs once again.
Another kiss, another deep inhale, his lungs working to consume the smell of your slumbering arousal instead of taking in oxygen to calm his charged libido.
A split desire between wanting you to continue sleeping and needing you to wake up raged within him, his mouth watering with each kiss, his chest feeling constricted as his breathing grew more ragged even though he was desperately trying to control it. Reaching your waist, he let his tongue swipe out to lick up to your ribs, feeling your side contract as he tickled you, your sleepy moans and quiet whines resounding in his ears as you fought to stay asleep.
Slipping one of his hands between your legs, he slowly let it glide up along your inner thigh, your skin warm against his palm and impossibly smooth, his lips and tongue continuing to tease beneath your breasts and stomach until you eventually rolled onto your back.
Your eyes remained closed, but Will watched as a drowsy smile formed on your lips and your hand reached up to card through his hair, a contented sigh being his official greeting.
He needed you more than ever, set on making you feel as good as he possibly could, craving to taste every part of you.
Pushing your legs apart until they were flush against the bed, he settled between them, his lips marking a path upward that had you squirming beneath him already, and once he reached his destination, paused and looked up at you with a wildness in his blue eyes.
"Mornin', sweetheart."
---
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maggotzombie ¡ 1 year ago
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the day/night we met ; henry cavill
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PAIRING — Henry Cavill x Reader (fem) SUMMARY — On your wedding day, your Maid of Honor prepares a special gift to which you and Henry have distinct responses. WORDS — 1,8k TW — nothing really just a lot of fluff, emotions (I cried a bit writing it), Henry in a suit 😈. A/N — Hi! I'm not dead, just quit the most toxic job ever so I'm getting back here lol Here's a short but very dear fic to me that I wrote last year but never posted. I'm so happy to finally post this! This story has been in my head for two years now and it came out better than I thought.
Song insp.: Eu Me Lembro by Clarice FalcĂŁo feat. Silva
— 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙
“ALRIGHT,” YOUR MAID OF HONOR smiles, carefully wiping her tears with a napkin. “After making you cry and potentially ruining some makeup,” The room laughs. “I’ve prepared something different to end this on a high note.”
This is one of the dearest moments of your life: your wedding. You’re marrying your soulmate. Your heart could burst with love and happiness whenever.
Everything’s perfect, from your dress to the lights of the venue. Henry – your newly proclaimed spouse – has an arm around you as you listen to your family and friends' speeches about you and your love.
You found it strange when your Maid of Honor wasn’t the first to speak, but it seems she has a reason for it. Immediately, you feel anxious, but in a good way.
“When these two told me they were getting married, I knew I wanted to do something special for them,” Your best friend starts. “I just didn’t know what, but I knew it had to be something remarkable, something for them to look back and have a good laugh,” She looks at the both of you with tears in her eyes, chuckling.
You also wipe tears off your eyes, smiling back at her, and Henry tightens his embrace around you.
“So I sat down with these two, separately, and started to ask a few questions,” She smiles and wiggles her eyebrows, which is an expression you know very well.
‘Oh my,’ You think. ‘What is she up to?’
“Things started to get really interesting from the start, and I decided to make a video out of it,” Your best friend winks at you. “Without further ado, enjoy it.”
With a pleasant smile, she sits down. The attention turns to the screens set around the venue.
You remember sitting with your Maid of Honor to chat about your relationship. You didn’t really understand why she wanted to do that. However, it always has been effortless talking about Henry, and you brushed it off as having something to do with the wedding.
You recall having a great time answering her questions – drinks might have been involved beforehand, but the whole process was surprisingly professional.
Your friend’s face pops up on the screen as she introduces herself. “In this little video, I wanted to talk about our lovely couple’s amazing and fun story, especially the day they met,” She explains. “Newlyweds, I love you very much, and I hope you like this little something I put together for you.”
She blows a kiss and waves. Then in fancy lettering, “A love story” is scribbled on the top-left corner of the screen, and “A story of love” on the bottom right corner. You wonder why both phrases – which convey the same thing – are on the video, but the thought quickly slips your mind when your smiling face appears on the screen.
“State your name and occupation, please,” Your friend prompts on the video, but she’s out of the shot.
You roll your eyes amusedly. “What’s this, a trial? I’m innocent, your honor!” You giggle, making everybody at the venue laugh.
You answer the question anyway, and your name also appears written on the video.
“For the purpose of… this, I’m the bride?” It sounds like a question, and you make a face, unsure of yourself.
She never explained what the video was for, in your defense.
Right after you, Henry appears. “I’m Henry, and I am the lucky groom,” He smiles brightly, looking as handsome as always.
“So, tell me, how did you meet Henry?” Your friend asks, and your smile is instant as you remember that exact day as if it was yesterday. “How did you meet Y/N?” She asks him in the next scene, and his reaction is the same.
“I was hosting a brunch,” You start, your eyes unfocused as the vivid memory plays in your mind. “And it was morning when Henry arrived.”
When he reapers, you can tell it’ll cut back and forth between you. “I was throwing a party, and she was the one that came around. I think it was three in the afternoon,” Henry replies, quite differently from you.
You scoff mockingly, looking at him by your side. He chuckles, brushing it off with a shoulder tic before you turn back to the screen.
“And I said: ‘Hi, come on in, make yourself at home,’ You know, something of the sorts,” You shrug off.
Your betrothed chuckles in the video, scratching his chin in thought. “I was the one that said hello, but she didn’t hear.”
His comment makes the venue erupt in laughter. You meet Henry’s loving gaze again and squeeze his hand, making him bring yours up to press a kiss on your knuckles.
If your shared story had different and entertaining versions until now, it’d just get better!
After being asked about first impressions of one another, he replies: “She thought I was hilarious,” He says with such confidence that is endearing.
In your turn, you laugh and cover your mouth as if what you are about to say it’s an embarrassing secret.
“Oh my god, he wouldn’t stop talking! Like a lot!” You emphasize. “And I pretended to laugh the entire time,” You say very sheepishly before throwing your head back in laughter again. “That’s terrible. I feel like I need to apologize,” You add after your fit.
“Oh, I just remembered something,” He suddenly announces, and his smile is wide as the memory toy around in his head. “Her blouse was inside out,” He chuckles, eyes focused on a spot. “She’s so adorable and such a goof, isn’t she?” He looks back at the camera.
“He loved the way I was dressed,” You giggle, visibly shivering as you physically remember the feeling of him truly looking at you for the first time.
Your friend asks another question, changing the subject slightly, but Henry shakes his head.
“Yeah, the party was great! Everybody was having a good time, but I only remember searching for her when she wasn’t near me. Trying to get another look, you know?” He says.
In turn, you scoff. “No one was dancing! I don’t remember who was taking care of the music, but it was terrible!” Your genuine response makes the room fills with laughter another time. “At least everyone had a drink in hand and ate something.”
“Oh, yes. The food was wonderful. Everything homemade,” Your partner assures with a proud nod naively.
“I bought everything off Tesco,” You rushedly confess, throwing your head back in laughter again.
Back to the present moment, you’re wiping the new tears from the corners of your eyes due to laughter. You love the good energy around the room as your guests and yourself enjoy the video your Maid of Honor made.
Now you understand both phases in the beginning, and although you and Henry have very distinct versions of the day you met, you love both of them and the feelings they bring you.
However, something changes in the next second of the video. For the first time, on a split-screen, you two appear together.
“When I saw him, I knew it (When I saw her, I knew it),” You both say simultaneously. “She (He) was the person I’d spend the rest of my life with,” You continue.
Glancing at him, you’re surprised to see he’s already looking at you. Then you exchange a knowing look. It seems like you got on the same page in this part of the video.
“And that’s how I realized that life put him (her) in my life,” You say in unison. “On that Tuesday (Thursday) of September (December),” Your responses overlap with each other, drawing amused reactions from people.
“That’s why I remember everything, of every second,” Both of you state, which is downright ironic at this point. “Ask me anything that I remember.”
“I remember,” You proudly declare with a grin but, this time, by yourself.
And so does Henry. “I remember,” He nods with a beam.
The video ends there, and the room erupts in applause, whistles, and hollered praises.
Words couldn’t describe the dazzling feelings you’re experiencing if you wanted to. You can’t be more grateful to your friend for this treat either. And, of course, the man you now get to call your husband.
The spotlight of attention returns to you as you’re exchanging the most enamored gaze ever. Henry leans in and presses his lips to your forehead, making you close your eyes. Slowly, you allow all those remarkable sensations to wash over you.
When you reopen your eyes, you smile at him before looking at your Maid of Honor. “Thank you so much for this extremely thoughtful gift. We both loved it a lot.”
Henry confirms with a head gesture.
“Words won’t do justice to how much you’re special to me. I’m just so grateful I get to share such a special and meaningful moment of my life, like this one, with you,” Your voice cracks at the end, and you smile, trying to hold your tears at bay as you can see she’s doing the same. “So I can’t thank you enough.”
As the room gets loud with another round of applause and cheers, she smiles, mouthing an “I love you too” to you. Wiping your tears carefully one more time, you chuckle.
“Although, I only have one question,” You announce, making the room pipe down. “Was my blouse really inside out?” You giggle as you look back at Henry.
Your husband starts to laugh. “Yeah,” He confirms bashfully. “Yeah, it was,” He nods as your guests join you in laughter.
“Oh, God. I can’t believe it,” You shake your head in embarrassment. “I also would like to point out that my husband clearly has a lot of experience with interviews,” You remark, addressing the room. “I feel kinda bad after saying I was pretending to laugh at his jokes when he’s all loving and caring,” You rejoin your friends and family in fun.
“I do tell bad jokes,” Henry concedes in your defense. “I love how genuine you are, and you’re loving and caring to me, too,” You nearly melt at his famous Hollywood-star smile.
The sound of ‘aww’s’ fills the room. “You see what I’m dealing with?” You joke, making everybody chuckle.
You give him a chaste but affectionate peck on the lips. Your wedding coordinator decides it’s time for the first dance to open the floor to make your guests burn some energy after the buffet.
And so, feeling the most secure and happy while pressed against your husband’s chest with his arms around you, you swing slowly. By sharing the same air, the same space, and the same feelings, you can’t think of anything better.
It all started on a Tuesday morning in September for you. But for him, it was a Thursday afternoon in December. Now, it is a Saturday evening in November that you’ll never forget.
You will remember. Everything. Of every second.
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maggotzombie ¡ 1 year ago
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awwe, thanks 🥹🤧 I'm so very glad many people liked this, it warms my little dark and cold heart haha 🖤
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the day/night we met ; henry cavill
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PAIRING — Henry Cavill x Reader (fem) SUMMARY — On your wedding day, your Maid of Honor prepares a special gift to which you and Henry have distinct responses. WORDS — 1,8k TW — nothing really just a lot of fluff, emotions (I cried a bit writing it), Henry in a suit 😈. A/N — Hi! I'm not dead, just quit the most toxic job ever so I'm getting back here lol Here's a short but very dear fic to me that I wrote last year but never posted. I'm so happy to finally post this! This story has been in my head for two years now and it came out better than I thought.
Song insp.: Eu Me Lembro by Clarice FalcĂŁo feat. Silva
— 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙
“ALRIGHT,” YOUR MAID OF HONOR smiles, carefully wiping her tears with a napkin. “After making you cry and potentially ruining some makeup,” The room laughs. “I’ve prepared something different to end this on a high note.”
This is one of the dearest moments of your life: your wedding. You’re marrying your soulmate. Your heart could burst with love and happiness whenever.
Everything’s perfect, from your dress to the lights of the venue. Henry – your newly proclaimed spouse – has an arm around you as you listen to your family and friends' speeches about you and your love.
You found it strange when your Maid of Honor wasn’t the first to speak, but it seems she has a reason for it. Immediately, you feel anxious, but in a good way.
“When these two told me they were getting married, I knew I wanted to do something special for them,” Your best friend starts. “I just didn’t know what, but I knew it had to be something remarkable, something for them to look back and have a good laugh,” She looks at the both of you with tears in her eyes, chuckling.
You also wipe tears off your eyes, smiling back at her, and Henry tightens his embrace around you.
“So I sat down with these two, separately, and started to ask a few questions,” She smiles and wiggles her eyebrows, which is an expression you know very well.
‘Oh my,’ You think. ‘What is she up to?’
“Things started to get really interesting from the start, and I decided to make a video out of it,” Your best friend winks at you. “Without further ado, enjoy it.”
With a pleasant smile, she sits down. The attention turns to the screens set around the venue.
You remember sitting with your Maid of Honor to chat about your relationship. You didn’t really understand why she wanted to do that. However, it always has been effortless talking about Henry, and you brushed it off as having something to do with the wedding.
You recall having a great time answering her questions – drinks might have been involved beforehand, but the whole process was surprisingly professional.
Your friend’s face pops up on the screen as she introduces herself. “In this little video, I wanted to talk about our lovely couple’s amazing and fun story, especially the day they met,” She explains. “Newlyweds, I love you very much, and I hope you like this little something I put together for you.”
She blows a kiss and waves. Then in fancy lettering, “A love story” is scribbled on the top-left corner of the screen, and “A story of love” on the bottom right corner. You wonder why both phrases – which convey the same thing – are on the video, but the thought quickly slips your mind when your smiling face appears on the screen.
“State your name and occupation, please,” Your friend prompts on the video, but she’s out of the shot.
You roll your eyes amusedly. “What’s this, a trial? I’m innocent, your honor!” You giggle, making everybody at the venue laugh.
You answer the question anyway, and your name also appears written on the video.
“For the purpose of… this, I’m the bride?” It sounds like a question, and you make a face, unsure of yourself.
She never explained what the video was for, in your defense.
Right after you, Henry appears. “I’m Henry, and I am the lucky groom,” He smiles brightly, looking as handsome as always.
“So, tell me, how did you meet Henry?” Your friend asks, and your smile is instant as you remember that exact day as if it was yesterday. “How did you meet Y/N?” She asks him in the next scene, and his reaction is the same.
“I was hosting a brunch,” You start, your eyes unfocused as the vivid memory plays in your mind. “And it was morning when Henry arrived.”
When he reapers, you can tell it’ll cut back and forth between you. “I was throwing a party, and she was the one that came around. I think it was three in the afternoon,” Henry replies, quite differently from you.
You scoff mockingly, looking at him by your side. He chuckles, brushing it off with a shoulder tic before you turn back to the screen.
“And I said: ‘Hi, come on in, make yourself at home,’ You know, something of the sorts,” You shrug off.
Your betrothed chuckles in the video, scratching his chin in thought. “I was the one that said hello, but she didn’t hear.”
His comment makes the venue erupt in laughter. You meet Henry’s loving gaze again and squeeze his hand, making him bring yours up to press a kiss on your knuckles.
If your shared story had different and entertaining versions until now, it’d just get better!
After being asked about first impressions of one another, he replies: “She thought I was hilarious,” He says with such confidence that is endearing.
In your turn, you laugh and cover your mouth as if what you are about to say it’s an embarrassing secret.
“Oh my god, he wouldn’t stop talking! Like a lot!” You emphasize. “And I pretended to laugh the entire time,” You say very sheepishly before throwing your head back in laughter again. “That’s terrible. I feel like I need to apologize,” You add after your fit.
“Oh, I just remembered something,” He suddenly announces, and his smile is wide as the memory toy around in his head. “Her blouse was inside out,” He chuckles, eyes focused on a spot. “She’s so adorable and such a goof, isn’t she?” He looks back at the camera.
“He loved the way I was dressed,” You giggle, visibly shivering as you physically remember the feeling of him truly looking at you for the first time.
Your friend asks another question, changing the subject slightly, but Henry shakes his head.
“Yeah, the party was great! Everybody was having a good time, but I only remember searching for her when she wasn’t near me. Trying to get another look, you know?” He says.
In turn, you scoff. “No one was dancing! I don’t remember who was taking care of the music, but it was terrible!” Your genuine response makes the room fills with laughter another time. “At least everyone had a drink in hand and ate something.”
“Oh, yes. The food was wonderful. Everything homemade,” Your partner assures with a proud nod naively.
“I bought everything off Tesco,” You rushedly confess, throwing your head back in laughter again.
Back to the present moment, you’re wiping the new tears from the corners of your eyes due to laughter. You love the good energy around the room as your guests and yourself enjoy the video your Maid of Honor made.
Now you understand both phases in the beginning, and although you and Henry have very distinct versions of the day you met, you love both of them and the feelings they bring you.
However, something changes in the next second of the video. For the first time, on a split-screen, you two appear together.
“When I saw him, I knew it (When I saw her, I knew it),” You both say simultaneously. “She (He) was the person I’d spend the rest of my life with,” You continue.
Glancing at him, you’re surprised to see he’s already looking at you. Then you exchange a knowing look. It seems like you got on the same page in this part of the video.
“And that’s how I realized that life put him (her) in my life,” You say in unison. “On that Tuesday (Thursday) of September (December),” Your responses overlap with each other, drawing amused reactions from people.
“That’s why I remember everything, of every second,” Both of you state, which is downright ironic at this point. “Ask me anything that I remember.”
“I remember,” You proudly declare with a grin but, this time, by yourself.
And so does Henry. “I remember,” He nods with a beam.
The video ends there, and the room erupts in applause, whistles, and hollered praises.
Words couldn’t describe the dazzling feelings you’re experiencing if you wanted to. You can’t be more grateful to your friend for this treat either. And, of course, the man you now get to call your husband.
The spotlight of attention returns to you as you’re exchanging the most enamored gaze ever. Henry leans in and presses his lips to your forehead, making you close your eyes. Slowly, you allow all those remarkable sensations to wash over you.
When you reopen your eyes, you smile at him before looking at your Maid of Honor. “Thank you so much for this extremely thoughtful gift. We both loved it a lot.”
Henry confirms with a head gesture.
“Words won’t do justice to how much you’re special to me. I’m just so grateful I get to share such a special and meaningful moment of my life, like this one, with you,” Your voice cracks at the end, and you smile, trying to hold your tears at bay as you can see she’s doing the same. “So I can’t thank you enough.”
As the room gets loud with another round of applause and cheers, she smiles, mouthing an “I love you too” to you. Wiping your tears carefully one more time, you chuckle.
“Although, I only have one question,” You announce, making the room pipe down. “Was my blouse really inside out?” You giggle as you look back at Henry.
Your husband starts to laugh. “Yeah,” He confirms bashfully. “Yeah, it was,” He nods as your guests join you in laughter.
“Oh, God. I can’t believe it,” You shake your head in embarrassment. “I also would like to point out that my husband clearly has a lot of experience with interviews,” You remark, addressing the room. “I feel kinda bad after saying I was pretending to laugh at his jokes when he’s all loving and caring,” You rejoin your friends and family in fun.
“I do tell bad jokes,” Henry concedes in your defense. “I love how genuine you are, and you’re loving and caring to me, too,” You nearly melt at his famous Hollywood-star smile.
The sound of ‘aww’s’ fills the room. “You see what I’m dealing with?” You joke, making everybody chuckle.
You give him a chaste but affectionate peck on the lips. Your wedding coordinator decides it’s time for the first dance to open the floor to make your guests burn some energy after the buffet.
And so, feeling the most secure and happy while pressed against your husband’s chest with his arms around you, you swing slowly. By sharing the same air, the same space, and the same feelings, you can’t think of anything better.
It all started on a Tuesday morning in September for you. But for him, it was a Thursday afternoon in December. Now, it is a Saturday evening in November that you’ll never forget.
You will remember. Everything. Of every second.
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maggotzombie ¡ 1 year ago
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this is so interesting and clever! i love it! can I, maybe, use it in some of my fics for our TF boys? 😁
Physical Touch with the Triple Frontier Boys
Triple Frontier Master List All fanfic masterlist
Thoughts on the TF boys expressing their love for you in Physical touch, and you returning it. Be sure to comment which love language you'd like to see next!
Acts of Service Word of Affirmation Quality Time
Warnings: PIV sex, nonsexual nudity, mentions of oral, (f and m receiving), chronic pain, brief reference to child abuse (bc I can't let the Millers off easy, can I)
Didn't want to make his too sexual bc physical touch isn't just about sex but like. Let's be honest here, am I wrong?
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Benny Miller
Don't let him fool you. Benny is a strong farm boy, ex-military, but he's not afraid of being things that may be perceived as feminine. He will take any opportunity to touch you, even in the most innocent ways. You had a long day, and Benny was more than happy to treat you right. Using ingredients in the fridge that google said made face and hair masks (Is there avocado on your face right now? Yes. Are entirely sure the egg in your hair is doing anything? No.) Benny gives you the first facial that didn't involve his dick in your face since college. He puts on a homemade hair mask in your hair, massaging it into your scalp tenderly, and even letting you put the remainder in his hair. In the shower he washes you, and impressively does not make a move o fuck you, simply taking care of you. Afterwards, you sit in front of the tv between Benny's legs as he brushes and braids your hair so that the shiny locks (the eggs did work!) are in nice waves in the morning.
*
Benny had a long day, walking in your house and immediately flopping on the couch as he said hello. You knew what he wanted, even if he wouldn't ask, feeling silly. Walking over to him, you ask if he wants you to lay with him and he nods. Carefully, you lay down on top of his sprawled-out body. As you watched ABC family you play with his messy blonde hair, full body weight on him and wondering how he could breathe, you felt his body relaxing.
"You know Benny, we can get you a weighted blanket"
"I like this better."
Santiago Garcia
Santiago Garcia can't keep his hands off you, the bedroom is no exception. Santi would partake in a myriad of positions, but his favorites were anything that he got the most contact with your skin. Doing doggy style, he never strayed far, his chest connecting with your back, or he'd pull you up flush against him to cup your breasts and kiss your neck. When he went down on you, Santiago's hands were always busy, roaming your body as if it was the first time being explored. This man cannot even sit back and enjoy a blowjob, his hands are always in your hair as he tells you how beautiful you are, touching your tits, or feeling himself in your throat.
*
Stubborn man. He will not ask for help if it's his only option. He'll beg you to give him a 5th orgasm, but he cannot admit when he's in pain. It's not just his knees. This man is middle aged, and just like you, he has pains. When you push Santi onto the couch, telling him to take off his jeans, a grin splits on his face. "Hold your horses, cowboy"
You pull out the container of magnesium lotion, and he looks even more excited. "Santi it's not lube!" You rub the lotion on his legs, tenderly and carefully taking care of his knees and calves, even going to far are to peel off his socks. Initially not a fan, insisting his feet are 'gross', you insist you don't mind (he is freshly showered, of course) and ask if it's okay to try it. He lets you, and find he really, really likes his feet massaged. The magnesium helps with the aches, and it's always nice to skin to skin.
Will Miller
His body was broad and sweaty and all-consuming over you, his back chest up against your back as he fucked into your center, deep as always. Every fucking inch of you was covered by him, protected. As he lay on top, full weight heavy and comforting, his arms were wrapped over yours, fingers intertwined, even his legs were pinning you to the mattress. He came inside you, warmth coating you on the inside as much as his skin did on the outside, he took a few moments to breath to relish feeling you so completely. "Baby, can we stay like this for a bit?" He asked, not wanting to be any further away than he was right now. As he laid on top of you, only pulling away slightly to put a blanket over the pair of you, all you can think of is how safe and cared for he makes you feel. You fall asleep like that, with him still inside you, as close as two people can possibly be.
*
Will isn't a talker. If he's bothered, or upset or sad, he's not going to tell you. But that's why your job is take care of him. He cares for you, you care for him. But you have to frame it as asking a favor, as needing him. So, bathtub full of water lavender oil and Epsom salt, (no candle bc strong smells hurt Will's head), an open door so the steam and heat doesn't trigger him, you lay in the warm water with Will's large body surrounding you. He had his arms wrapped around you, knees bent around you as metaphorical extra protection to some imagined threat. Will likes this. Will likes being there to comfort you, Will likes to be there to protect you. Will is a caretaker, a protector, first and foremost, just ask Ben. Who shielded Ben from their dads alcoholic rages? Who bandages him up after fights? Will. Will needs to be needed, and you are happy to allow him that.
Francisco Morales
A hand on your thigh, fingers interlaced as you walk, a grasp around your waist. It's protective, he knows how men at bars can be, but also a bit possessive, you know, how Frankie wants to touch you all the time. His mind constantly whirs with worst case scenarios... he doesn't want you getting hurt, or someone touching you without consent... but also... he likes knowing. He likes knowing that other men see you, but know they can't have you, wouldn't even try, not with the way you sit on his lap. You are all dolled up, showing so much skin that a lesser man would be nervous, or demand you change. But Frankie doesn't see it like that. First of all, he would never tell you what to do. Second of all, he couldn't even if he tried, but thirdly, the primal, animalistic party of his mind loved showing you off. Look at how good you looked, and only he got to put his hands on you (Well, and Ben as you swing danced to Come on Eileen but that's beside the point). Frankie pinches your ass as you lean over the bar ordering another drink. For good measure.
*
Later that evening, as the crowd fills in and the men get drunker, more obvious with their staring, even as you are surrounded by four ex-military men, you notice Frankie's touch more and more possessive around you. You excuse yourself to the bathroom, much to more Frankie's visible distress, and on your way back to put money in the jukebox. After a few other peoples songs came and went, Frankie immediately looks up from his drink, looking at Santi as "Siempre en mi Mente" by Juan Gabriel comes on, asking if he put it on, the only person Frankie assumed would even know Juan Gabriel. But you had paid attention to his Spotify as he cooked Sunday morning breakfast. Taking his large, rough hand, you pull Francisco to the dance floor. In the predominantly white small southern town, no one really knew the song, but a few couples were dancing, because really, who is resistant to Juan Gabriel? For the most part, however, the dance floor was nearly empty. This meant that as Frankie held you close, singing along to the words with his mouth hot against your ear, every men in the bar who had been eyeing you got to see his your hands on his as, signaling in no uncertain terms who you belonged to.
*****************
hope y'all enjoyed!!!
Remember, reblogs help a lot, comments mean the world!
@welcometostayingawake @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @kittyofalltrades @luciannadraven33 @littlenosoul @jake-g-lockley @milkymoon2483 @in-between-the-cafes @howaboutcastiel
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maggotzombie ¡ 1 year ago
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oh, god! this writing is so good that I wonder why I just found you out! beautifully detailed in more ways than one: gestures, objects, and (the one that caught my eye the most) emotions.
girl, please, tag me in all the updates, and keep up the excellent work! 😊
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Breathe
Pairing: Will "Ironhead" Miller x female reader
Rating: M but will be E as smut is definitely coming (I surprised myself and didn't write smut in the first chapter)
Words: 1,815
Warnings: PTSD. Anger issues. Almost passing out. Sexual tension. Mentions of previous assault (choking).
Summary: You've seen Will at the gym many times before, and he you, and today you finally share a moment, discovering your assumptions about him are right.
A/N: Here I was thinking my first character fic for Charlie Hunnam would no doubt be Jax Teller, and then this guy swooped in and floored me. (I also haven't finished SOA yet and feel like waiting to write for Jax until I do, and also my feelings about him are soooo conflicted) Will is an absolute MAN and I'm in love.
This will be a series and it will be smutty and indulgent.
---
It had almost been a year, but he would always be known as the man who nearly choked a stranger to death in the cereal aisle of the local grocery store.
Will - as you overheard him be called by the man he usually came to the gym with who looked just like him and assumed was his younger brother - often cleared anyone away from any machine out of fear; the other patrons sacrificing their workouts in favour of not wanting to provoke someone who may snap if he didn't get his way.
He was solo today, grunting and groaning to the left of you as he worked through his second set of bench presses; your eyes often drifting over to him in the mirror in the event he needed a spot.
You blinked as he slammed the heavy barbell back on its rack, shifting your gaze back to yourself performing deadlifts as he sat up and rubbed a towel over his face to catch the drips of sweat running down his tanned cheeks and into his blond beard.
Distracted, you lost count of your reps, cursing to yourself internally as you suffered through two more than was necessary, your hamstrings on fire and barely able to complete the last one with proper form before dropping the weights to the floor with a huff.
You glanced in Will's direction, catching him staring at you where he nodded before you quickly averted your gaze. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him lay back on the bench and continue another set, his noises of effort making your heart rate increase possibly more than your workout was.
Passing him to go to the squat rack, you couldn't help but notice the way his muscles flexed as he worked, the way his cheeks flinched as he clenched his teeth together tightly, similarly to the way he did even when he was 'relaxed' and not straining through an exercise.
Happy to be facing away from him, you started through your first set, thinking you were keeping track of your reps, only to find your mind wandering back to thoughts of him.
You sympathized for him, hearing his fiancee had left him after the event at the supermarket, knowing he had likely seen and done so many things people could never fathom experiencing in his many years in the Special Forces, and on top of all of it, not even being able to go to the gym without every person giving him a wide berth and downcast stares when they passed by.
"Damnit," you breathed, realizing you yet again lost track, only to be startled when a deep voice sounded behind you.
"You're at 8," Will spoke, making you glance over your shoulder to see him as much as you could as you squatted through another repetition.
"Thanks," you puffed, trying to sound as genuine as you could, thankful for his attentiveness while you did your best to look effortless in completing four more squats at the heaviest weight you had ever done so far.
"No problem," he smiled, assisting the bar back onto the rack when you were done. "I notice you lose count a lot."
He stated it so matter-of-factly, making you knit your eyebrows together quizzically as you turned to face him.
"Sorry!" he raised his hands in defense, "I'm a numbers guy, I tend to notice shit like that, I'm not trying to be an ass."
"No, it's fine," you returned with your own smile, "I guess I just never thought anyone would pay close enough attention to something like that, especially to someone they don't know."
Will tilted his head to the side and shrugged, like he wasn't quite sure what else to say to explain his behaviour.
"I appreciate it, though," you added, seeing a sort of discomfort crease in his features. "Saved me from doing an extra one. I thought I was only at 7."
Your laugh seemed to relax him, bringing out a light in his blue eyes and his smile that you instantly knew you could become addicted to seeing.
"Well, I'm happy to have helped, then. I'm Will, by the way."
He held his hand out, and taking note of the size of it as well as the length of his fingers, you swallowed and extended your own, meeting his eyes as he shook it with a firm grip.
"I know," you answered, seeing your response immediately wash a shameful look over his face.
He quickly withdrew his hand and moved it up to scratch his head, coming to terms that everyone knew who he was and the reputation he had.
"I've heard your brother," you accentuated as a question, "say your name a few times here."
"Oh, uh, yeah, that's Benny, my younger brother," he confirmed, placing his hands on his hips with a sigh of relief that your recognition of him wasn't only due to his infamous incident.
"Was he in the Service, too?"
"Yeah," he nodded, biting his lower lip.
"Your family must be proud of you both," you stated, positioning yourself under the bar to begin another set.
"Some days more than others," he said quietly, watching without shame as you lowered yourself into a squat and powered back up again with an enticing thrust.
Will cleared his throat, "You've got great form."
The tone in his voice made you steel yourself before continuing with another rep, feeling adrenaline rush through you that wasn't on account of the weight-lifting.
"That's it, breathe through it," he purred, that voice of his making you lose focus.
You closed your eyes and exhaled deeply, trying to match your breaths properly with your execution but failing, your mind going to a place you couldn't deny it hadn't been before in all the times you worked out at the same time as him.
It was good to work until failure, you reminded yourself, but as Will counted you to your twelfth and final rep, you struggled to reach the top of your squat let alone get the bar back on the rack.
Will effortlessly took the weight of it in one hand, lifting it easily for you to set it back in place.
"You okay?" he asked, assessing you with concern as you wiped moisture from your brow while his other hand rested along the small of your back.
"Yeah, thanks."
He stood close to you, enough for you to smell the intoxicating scent of his sweat mixed with lingering shower gel or cologne, and when you turned, his hand fell away from you just as yours felt the intense need to touch the dampened cotton shirt that clung to his warm body.
Suddenly feeling dizzy, you shifted on your feet and reached out to grip his forearm for support, shaking your head and apologizing.
"Sorry, that's the heaviest I've lifted and I guess I didn't eat enough for breakfast before I came," you stammered, looking up at him to see his face screwed up with worry.
"Hey, it's fine," he soothed, his hands holding your shoulders in a strong, reassuring grip. "Just breathe."
You did as he suggested, closing your eyes and inhaling deeply and slowly, your hand loosening on his forearm only slightly while he remained unmoving.
"Good, that's good," he whispered, his face leaning closer to yours, and you didn't dare open your eyes again in fear you really would pass out.
"Keep breathing," he repeated, prompting you to continue what he was quickly causing you to forget.
Another slow, calming breath filled your lungs, and when you blew it out gradually through your parted lips, Will spoke again, his fingers pressing into your shoulders.
"Good girl."
Your eyes flashed open, his words making you feel like you were in a haze, his crooked smile and glint in his alluring blue irises creating the opposite effect this whole exchange was meant to have.
"It always helps me," he admitted, his eyes not shifting from yours. "Whenever I'm stressed or angry…to breathe through it."
"Does that happen often?" you asked, your curiosity getting the better of you.
"Hmm, sometimes," he began, not seeming offended at your question. "Less than it used to."
"You must have been through a lot," you spoke, letting your thoughts come out freely, your hand giving a reassuring squeeze over one of the tattoos covering his forearm.
Will licked his lips, leaning slightly closer to you, holding in a breath despite knowing he shouldn't in a moment like this.
"Hey, are you done with this?" a man asked, pointing to the squat rack that was left abandoned beside you, his unexpected voice startling you both.
"Yeah, man, go ahead," Will answered, nodding at the man once and giving him a curt smile.
You watched Will size him up as the man switched out the plates on the bar, like he was waiting to see if anything impolite would come from his mouth next or turn into a threat somehow. The veins in his neck bulged as he increased his breaths, his cheeks flexing again due to his teeth clamping down on each other forcefully. When the other man continued about his business, Will seemed to blink back to reality, his chest still heaving sharply as he struggled to find calm.
Not thinking twice, you reached up and placed your open palm on his chest, directly over his furiously beating heart, bringing his attention over to you along with a sense of surprise.
He blinked quickly and sighed, his eyes searching yours for something to help him until you spoke.
"Breathe, Will," you coaxed, reminding him of what he needed to do, seeing him close his eyes and begin to slow it down until his breaths eventually matched yours.
"Thank you," he muttered, reaching his hand up to cover yours that remained on his warm chest, giving it a gentle squeeze as he flashed you a weak smile.
"Hey, I was gonna grab a protein shake from that smoothie bar down the road after, why don't you join me?"
"I'd love to," you beamed, feeling more than okay with ditching what was left of your workout to go with him, the look on his face making it even more worth it as he grinned brightly and took your hand to lead you toward the change rooms.
"Grab your things and I'll meet you outside," he ordered gently, revealing his effortless ability to delegate, and your willingness to want to comply.
Will leaned against the side of his truck as he waited, sighing to himself while he attempted to sort out everything he was feeling; the mix of wanting to lean in and trust you overpowering his usual go-to of staying distant and playing it safe, all of which was confirmed when you walked out the doors and instantly brought an easy smile to his face.
---
Taglist: none!! Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in this series or any other Charlie Hunnam roles I may write for 💗
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maggotzombie ¡ 1 year ago
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the day/night we met ; henry cavill
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PAIRING — Henry Cavill x Reader (fem) SUMMARY — On your wedding day, your Maid of Honor prepares a special gift to which you and Henry have distinct responses. WORDS — 1,8k TW — nothing really just a lot of fluff, emotions (I cried a bit writing it), Henry in a suit 😈. A/N — Hi! I'm not dead, just quit the most toxic job ever so I'm getting back here lol Here's a short but very dear fic to me that I wrote last year but never posted. I'm so happy to finally post this! This story has been in my head for two years now and it came out better than I thought.
Song insp.: Eu Me Lembro by Clarice FalcĂŁo feat. Silva
— 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙
“ALRIGHT,” YOUR MAID OF HONOR smiles, carefully wiping her tears with a napkin. “After making you cry and potentially ruining some makeup,” The room laughs. ���I’ve prepared something different to end this on a high note.”
This is one of the dearest moments of your life: your wedding. You’re marrying your soulmate. Your heart could burst with love and happiness whenever.
Everything’s perfect, from your dress to the lights of the venue. Henry – your newly proclaimed spouse – has an arm around you as you listen to your family and friends' speeches about you and your love.
You found it strange when your Maid of Honor wasn’t the first to speak, but it seems she has a reason for it. Immediately, you feel anxious, but in a good way.
“When these two told me they were getting married, I knew I wanted to do something special for them,” Your best friend starts. “I just didn’t know what, but I knew it had to be something remarkable, something for them to look back and have a good laugh,” She looks at the both of you with tears in her eyes, chuckling.
You also wipe tears off your eyes, smiling back at her, and Henry tightens his embrace around you.
“So I sat down with these two, separately, and started to ask a few questions,” She smiles and wiggles her eyebrows, which is an expression you know very well.
‘Oh my,’ You think. ‘What is she up to?’
“Things started to get really interesting from the start, and I decided to make a video out of it,” Your best friend winks at you. “Without further ado, enjoy it.”
With a pleasant smile, she sits down. The attention turns to the screens set around the venue.
You remember sitting with your Maid of Honor to chat about your relationship. You didn’t really understand why she wanted to do that. However, it always has been effortless talking about Henry, and you brushed it off as having something to do with the wedding.
You recall having a great time answering her questions – drinks might have been involved beforehand, but the whole process was surprisingly professional.
Your friend’s face pops up on the screen as she introduces herself. “In this little video, I wanted to talk about our lovely couple’s amazing and fun story, especially the day they met,” She explains. “Newlyweds, I love you very much, and I hope you like this little something I put together for you.”
She blows a kiss and waves. Then in fancy lettering, “A love story” is scribbled on the top-left corner of the screen, and “A story of love” on the bottom right corner. You wonder why both phrases – which convey the same thing – are on the video, but the thought quickly slips your mind when your smiling face appears on the screen.
“State your name and occupation, please,” Your friend prompts on the video, but she’s out of the shot.
You roll your eyes amusedly. “What’s this, a trial? I’m innocent, your honor!” You giggle, making everybody at the venue laugh.
You answer the question anyway, and your name also appears written on the video.
“For the purpose of… this, I’m the bride?” It sounds like a question, and you make a face, unsure of yourself.
She never explained what the video was for, in your defense.
Right after you, Henry appears. “I’m Henry, and I am the lucky groom,” He smiles brightly, looking as handsome as always.
“So, tell me, how did you meet Henry?” Your friend asks, and your smile is instant as you remember that exact day as if it was yesterday. “How did you meet Y/N?” She asks him in the next scene, and his reaction is the same.
“I was hosting a brunch,” You start, your eyes unfocused as the vivid memory plays in your mind. “And it was morning when Henry arrived.”
When he reapers, you can tell it’ll cut back and forth between you. “I was throwing a party, and she was the one that came around. I think it was three in the afternoon,” Henry replies, quite differently from you.
You scoff mockingly, looking at him by your side. He chuckles, brushing it off with a shoulder tic before you turn back to the screen.
“And I said: ‘Hi, come on in, make yourself at home,’ You know, something of the sorts,” You shrug off.
Your betrothed chuckles in the video, scratching his chin in thought. “I was the one that said hello, but she didn’t hear.”
His comment makes the venue erupt in laughter. You meet Henry’s loving gaze again and squeeze his hand, making him bring yours up to press a kiss on your knuckles.
If your shared story had different and entertaining versions until now, it’d just get better!
After being asked about first impressions of one another, he replies: “She thought I was hilarious,” He says with such confidence that is endearing.
In your turn, you laugh and cover your mouth as if what you are about to say it’s an embarrassing secret.
“Oh my god, he wouldn’t stop talking! Like a lot!” You emphasize. “And I pretended to laugh the entire time,” You say very sheepishly before throwing your head back in laughter again. “That’s terrible. I feel like I need to apologize,” You add after your fit.
“Oh, I just remembered something,” He suddenly announces, and his smile is wide as the memory toy around in his head. “Her blouse was inside out,” He chuckles, eyes focused on a spot. “She’s so adorable and such a goof, isn’t she?” He looks back at the camera.
“He loved the way I was dressed,” You giggle, visibly shivering as you physically remember the feeling of him truly looking at you for the first time.
Your friend asks another question, changing the subject slightly, but Henry shakes his head.
“Yeah, the party was great! Everybody was having a good time, but I only remember searching for her when she wasn’t near me. Trying to get another look, you know?” He says.
In turn, you scoff. “No one was dancing! I don’t remember who was taking care of the music, but it was terrible!” Your genuine response makes the room fills with laughter another time. “At least everyone had a drink in hand and ate something.”
“Oh, yes. The food was wonderful. Everything homemade,” Your partner assures with a proud nod naively.
“I bought everything off Tesco,” You rushedly confess, throwing your head back in laughter again.
Back to the present moment, you’re wiping the new tears from the corners of your eyes due to laughter. You love the good energy around the room as your guests and yourself enjoy the video your Maid of Honor made.
Now you understand both phases in the beginning, and although you and Henry have very distinct versions of the day you met, you love both of them and the feelings they bring you.
However, something changes in the next second of the video. For the first time, on a split-screen, you two appear together.
“When I saw him, I knew it (When I saw her, I knew it),” You both say simultaneously. “She (He) was the person I’d spend the rest of my life with,” You continue.
Glancing at him, you’re surprised to see he’s already looking at you. Then you exchange a knowing look. It seems like you got on the same page in this part of the video.
“And that’s how I realized that life put him (her) in my life,” You say in unison. “On that Tuesday (Thursday) of September (December),” Your responses overlap with each other, drawing amused reactions from people.
“That’s why I remember everything, of every second,” Both of you state, which is downright ironic at this point. “Ask me anything that I remember.”
“I remember,” You proudly declare with a grin but, this time, by yourself.
And so does Henry. “I remember,” He nods with a beam.
The video ends there, and the room erupts in applause, whistles, and hollered praises.
Words couldn’t describe the dazzling feelings you’re experiencing if you wanted to. You can’t be more grateful to your friend for this treat either. And, of course, the man you now get to call your husband.
The spotlight of attention returns to you as you’re exchanging the most enamored gaze ever. Henry leans in and presses his lips to your forehead, making you close your eyes. Slowly, you allow all those remarkable sensations to wash over you.
When you reopen your eyes, you smile at him before looking at your Maid of Honor. “Thank you so much for this extremely thoughtful gift. We both loved it a lot.”
Henry confirms with a head gesture.
“Words won’t do justice to how much you’re special to me. I’m just so grateful I get to share such a special and meaningful moment of my life, like this one, with you,” Your voice cracks at the end, and you smile, trying to hold your tears at bay as you can see she’s doing the same. “So I can’t thank you enough.”
As the room gets loud with another round of applause and cheers, she smiles, mouthing an “I love you too” to you. Wiping your tears carefully one more time, you chuckle.
“Although, I only have one question,” You announce, making the room pipe down. “Was my blouse really inside out?” You giggle as you look back at Henry.
Your husband starts to laugh. “Yeah,” He confirms bashfully. “Yeah, it was,” He nods as your guests join you in laughter.
“Oh, God. I can’t believe it,” You shake your head in embarrassment. “I also would like to point out that my husband clearly has a lot of experience with interviews,” You remark, addressing the room. “I feel kinda bad after saying I was pretending to laugh at his jokes when he’s all loving and caring,” You rejoin your friends and family in fun.
“I do tell bad jokes,” Henry concedes in your defense. “I love how genuine you are, and you’re loving and caring to me, too,” You nearly melt at his famous Hollywood-star smile.
The sound of ‘aww’s’ fills the room. “You see what I’m dealing with?” You joke, making everybody chuckle.
You give him a chaste but affectionate peck on the lips. Your wedding coordinator decides it’s time for the first dance to open the floor to make your guests burn some energy after the buffet.
And so, feeling the most secure and happy while pressed against your husband’s chest with his arms around you, you swing slowly. By sharing the same air, the same space, and the same feelings, you can’t think of anything better.
It all started on a Tuesday morning in September for you. But for him, it was a Thursday afternoon in December. Now, it is a Saturday evening in November that you’ll never forget.
You will remember. Everything. Of every second.
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maggotzombie ¡ 1 year ago
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( art not mine ! )
TO YOU, WORLDS AWAY
summary: in which soulmates come together on a planet worlds away from home. this is a story about how pandora became home. this is a story about how they found it…but like all stories, the ending is left to eywa…
jake sully x reader
PART ONE:
chapter one
chapter two
chapter three
chapter four
chapter five
chapter six
chapter seven
chapter eight
chapter nine
chapter ten
chapter eleven
PART TWO:
chapter twelve
chapter thirteen
chapter fourteen
chapter fifteen
chapter sixteen
chapter seventeen
chapter eighteen
chapter nineteen
chapter twenty
chapter twenty-one
chapter twenty-two
chapter twenty-three
chapter twenty-four
chapter twenty-five
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maggotzombie ¡ 1 year ago
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THIS. IS. AMAZING! I was out of words when I finished it and I can just urge you to read it. Woman, your writing is heavenly 🤭
I'll Be Your Bright Side Series Masterlist
Benjamin "Benny" Miller x f!Reader
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In the three years that have passed since you first crossed paths with Benny Miller, he’s easily become the most important person in your life, without a single doubt. He’s your best friend. But as time goes on, it’s becoming more and more difficult to differentiate between the rapidly blurring lines of friendship and something more—the far deeper feelings that keep you up at night. Feelings that have the potential to wreck everything if he doesn’t feel the same.
Rating: 18+
Content: NSFW, smut, fluff, angst, pining, feels, (eventual) best friends to lovers, protective benny, soft benny, the triple frontier boys doing what they do best
Status: COMPLETE
A/N: Although this series is complete, requests are always open for drabbles, missing scenes, scenes from Benny's POV, etc.
Pt. 1 - We’ll Find a Way of Chasing the Sun Pt. 2 - Let Me Be the One That Shines With You Pt. 3 - Find Me Where the Skies Are Blue
A Date?: Benny's POV
Pt. 4 - And After All, You're My Wonderwall
For my responses to various asks about the series -> #IBYBS
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maggotzombie ¡ 2 years ago
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Silhouette
Relationship: Julian Kaye x GN!Reader Fandom: American Gigolo Rating: M Word count: 2717
Summary: You work for a men's wear store and Julian comes in, looking for a new suit.
Additional tags and warnings: Flirting – Fluff – First meetings – Suggestive Themes
AO3 Link
This is the last thing I'm posting before starting work again. Hopefully, it won't take me too long to find my new rhythm.
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You walk around the racks of formal jackets in the men’s wear store that you’re working at and check that all tags are visible and intact to pass the time. It’s a slow afternoon, and you’re bored out of your mind. Only a handful of people are currently in the store, and all of them have declined your offer to help look for something. Which leaves you with doing what you’re doing at the moment. You hold back a deep sigh and a yawn and look to your colleague at the register, who perks up as she sees a couple nearing her with a suit. 
You’re considering checking the inventory, despite knowing that it’s already been taken care of the previous afternoon, since you’d been the one doing it, when someone new walks through the doors. You can’t help staring for a moment as you watch the man stepping towards the most expensive side of the store, his hands skimming over the shoulders of the designer dress shirts. He’s dressed in casual clothes, but they have been carefully selected to highlight each aspect of the man’s body. His pants fit tightly over his hips and his truly deletable behind, while the material flows straighter over his long legs. His shirt hugs his torso and wide shoulders, highlighting the obviously well taken care of body that lies underneath. As you make your way over to him to offer your guidance, you find yourself observing his profile. He has a sharp jawline, a broad but alluring nose, and his lips have an intriguing curve. All of it sits under a mop of soft looking, dark brown hair. 
“Good afternoon,” you address him with a bright, professional smile, and have to clench your teeth together, so you don’t make a weird face or sound once the man has turned to face you. 
He has lovely, soft, brown eyes that also have a playful glint to them. Those eyes follow your finger as you introduce yourself and point to your name tag on the left side of your chest. 
“Welcome to Silhouette. Are you looking for something specific, or should I just let you browse through the store for now?” You’re proud of yourself for keeping your voice steady and professional as always. 
The man’s lips curve into a small, friendly smile, while his head slightly inclines to one side as he looks at you. 
“I’m good right now, but I might take you up on that offer in a minute.” 
“Of course. Just call me if you need anything,” you nod, and point to the section of the store that you take care of.
“Thank you.” The man gives you another charming smile and starts going through the shirt selection. 
“You’re welcome.” You take a few steps backwards before turning around and returning to your spot. 
A few more people enter the store, effectively getting you back to work as you show them to the requested sections or suggesting a specific piece of clothing when asked for your opinion. You keep throwing quick glances at the man from before, in case he’s looking for you. Hoping that he’s looking for you, if you’re being honest. Your job comes with the benefit of also getting to take care of beautiful men at times, and this man is at the top of the list of best-looking men. It’s particularly because of the natural and effortless charm that surrounds him. He holds himself tall and with confidence, but it’s not boastful or arrogant. 
Out of your peripherals, you notice him heading towards the changing rooms, and sigh dejectedly. Looks like he found what he needed without you. With a small twist of disappointment to your lips, you return your focus on the people milling around you in case someone asks for you. 
A few minutes later, one of your colleagues from another section walks up to you. 
“There’s this hot customer asking for you in the changing rooms,” she says with a wide grin. 
Your eyes widen, but you snort at the way your colleague winks at you and her have fun quip. 
You quickly make your way to the changing rooms. Because he’s waiting for you, and not because you’re excited that he called for you. Of course not… Right. You find him in the last one, the curtain to the stall fully open, and you have to physically stop yourself from just plain on staring at all the exposed skin. He’s standing with his back to you, sans shirt, and with only a pair of slacks on that seem a tad too big in the legs but sit perfectly on his behind. Your eyes glide over the smooth looking, tan skin and the tattoo written in Russian over the shoulder blades. You can also see more tattoos through the mirror he’s facing, and something about them makes you frown slightly. You don’t have the time to think more about them, since that’s when you catch his eyes watching you through the mirror, his expression amused. Your face feels warm under his gaze, and you quickly blink as you walk into the stall. 
“You asked for me, sir?” 
“I did,” he smiles as he turns and holds up two shirts. “Which one?” 
You stare at him for a second, confused. You’d thought that he’d need more help than just for choosing a color, but you’re on board with anything he asks. Lowering your eyes from his to look at the two shirts and then at the pants he picked, you frown and twist your lips to one side. You hear him chuckle and meet his gaze again. 
“That bad?” He asks, humor in his eyes. 
“No, both are great, but… if it’s not asking too much, where do you intend to wear this to?” You cross your arms as you think and go over the other colors you know you have for this shirt. 
“I’m meeting a … client for dinner at Nobu’s.”
You make a thoughtful sound at the name of that restaurant. It’s high end, but you can wear more relaxed attire as well. 
“As I said, those shirts would suit you well, but if you’re open to suggestions…” you deliberately trail off and lift your eyebrows at him expectantly. 
“Yeah, sure. Go ahead.” He nods, visibly intrigued, and starts putting the two other shirts back on their respective hangers. 
You turn on your heels and quickly head to the racks where the shirts you’re looking for hang on. You slide them to the side one by one, looking for the color you’d been picturing in your head, and then for the size. He hadn’t told you his size, but it’s your job to figure it out. Finding the one you need, you pull it off the rack and hurry back to the changing rooms, your customer waiting with a curious smile as you close the curtains behind you. He lifts a hand for the shirt, but you remove it from the hanger that you put next to the two others on the right wall, and open the buttons before holding the shirt open for him. He obligingly turns around and lets you slip it over his arms and onto his shoulders, getting you that much closer to him and letting you catch a whiff of the warm fragrance he’s wearing. You step back a few paces and see him looking down at the shirt through the mirror. He turns to face you with a nod of agreement. The color suits him perfectly, and it would look good with the rest of his outfit. You force your eyes away from the skin that’s still showing through the open shirt. He’s not shirtless anymore, but somehow, with the shirt only sitting on his shoulders, he looks even sexier, if that’s even possible. 
He starts buttoning up the shirt, however, and you’re able to breathe a little easier. After fitting the shirt into the pants, his hands go to the cuffs, about to fasten them. 
“Sir? Allow me?” You tentatively ask, motioning to the sleeves. 
He blinks at you in surprise, but nods his assent. You step closer again and take one hand in both of yours to lift it slightly for you to work better on the sleeves. Instead of closing the cuff, you start rolling the fabric over itself, revealing his strong forearms. You have to swallow thickly at their sight. This man has stunning hands and arms. Is anything about him not ridiculously attractive? You repeat the same action with his other sleeve, while trying to ignore his eyes on you. 
“There,” you say at last, and grin at him. “You can move them back down, but also keep them that way and still look perfect for Nobu’s. Fashionable but relaxed.”
He stares down at himself and at his arms, before he turns to the mirror to observe himself. 
“Not bad.” He meets your eyes over his shoulder and nods with a pleased grin. “And it’s Julian, by the way.”
You blink once, twice, before returning his smile.
“Happy I could help, Julian… But…” You take a critical look at the slacks. “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to make some adjustments to the pants.” You allow yourself to put your hands over his hips, keeping it professional and only explaining your thoughts. “Here, they fit perfectly.” You go down on one knee and pinch the fabric on the back of his thigh to get the pants to sit tighter. “But I’d take off an inch here. You have long legs, and that would make them stand out more.” 
Julian hums in understanding and pivots to you, getting your face level with his crotch. And, oh. You can tell, just from how the fabric stretches over it, that it’s hiding something impressive. You slowly slide your eyes up, until you reach his, only to find him watching you with curiosity. 
“How long would the changes take? My appointment is tomorrow,” he wonders, his eyes never leaving yours. 
“It can be done by tomorrow. I’ll just have to pin down the fabric and if you’re satisfied, you’ll be free to leave and get everything tomorrow.”
“I’m convinced you’ll make sure I’m satisfied,” he chuckles, with something deeper to it, and oh, he’s definitely flirting now. 
You try to hide the way you want to squirm at his change of tone, your body feeling hotter from it. 
“I will,” you breathe, before clearing your throat and getting up. “I’ll get the pins.” 
You fight the urge to run out of the changing room, glad to leave Julian’s presence before you do something stupid. You take a minute to slowly breathe in and out a few times after reaching the storage room and try to get your focus back before you return to Julian with pins, a notebook, and a measuring tape. 
He’s trying on the jacket over the shirt when you arrive, but removes it and puts it on the hanger after seeing you and waits for your instructions. 
“Just stay still, please.” You close the curtains once again and go to both your knees, this time, to begin pinning the fabric to the length you find more fitting.
You work methodically, jutting down an information or two in the notebook for the seamstress later. You lose yourself in your work, putting a pin between your lips, sliding the material together, taking the pin out of your mouth and carefully placing it in the pants. It helps you to not think about the fact that Julian is watching you throughout the whole process. You can practically feel his eyes on your exposed neck, but you remain concentrated. At least as much as you can once you change to the other leg and notice the slightly more prominent bulge at his crotch. It’s nothing obvious, but your face is right there. You close your eyes and breathe out as inconspicuously as possible, not wanting to show how affected you’re getting by his sheer presence. The fact that he’s reacting to your touch, as work related as you keep it, is having a thrill running through you. It’s obvious that he knows that you’re attracted to him, and it would be embarrassing if he wasn’t reacting to you as well, or behaving as gallantly as he is and not commenting on it. He’s not saying or doing anything besides watching you. You bite over your lower lip with the urge to glance up at him. 
“I’m almost done with the pins,” you comment after another minute, your voice barely louder than a whisper, and finally do look up. 
Heat floods your body. Your neck and face feel hot as you see his expression. His lips are quirked to one side in a faint smirk, not mocking, just highly entertained, but his eyes are alive with intensity, dark with something that has you swallowing hard. 
“Take your time,” he rasps. 
You can only nod and lean your head forward again. You lick your lips and breathe in deeply, before going back to finishing putting the rest of the pins in the pants. Leaning to the side to get the measuring tape, you begin by measuring from heel to knee. You force your hands to not tremble as you slide the tape from his knee to crotch, making sure to not actually touch anything you shouldn’t. You keep your head lowered as much as you can, not wanting Julian to read your emotions on your face. You write down the new information in the notebook sitting between your legs and start again with the other leg. With the curtains drawn and you being so close to him, you find yourself surrounded by his scent, his body exuding warmth from the repeated action of putting clothes on and off. And maybe something else. You can’t begin to image who Julian is, something about his tattoos telling you that there might be some hint of danger, but the pull that he has on you doesn’t feel dangerous at all. 
Taking a few other measurements, you’re done not long after that, and quickly get up without meeting his gaze, trying not to fumble with the tools you’d brought to work as you set them to the side. 
“Alright, you can take the pants off now, and I’ll take them with me. Would you like to purchase the rest of the clothes today, or should I put them to the side for you tomorrow?” You mentally pat yourself on the back for your even voice. 
“I’ll get them all tomorrow, if that’s alright with you.” 
“Of course.”
You see him remove the clothes through the corner of your eyes and purposely keep your back to him as you write more annotations in the notebook, giving him privacy. He hands you the clothes that he’s put back on their hanger, and you take them with a tiny smile and barely a glance at his face. He keeps moving behind you, the rustling sound of fabric continuing while he dresses into the clothes he’d come in with. You’re unfolding the sleeves of the shirt that he’ll be buying and smoothing them out with the thought of ironing the creases out before giving it to him tomorrow, when you feel him right behind you. 
“What time do you get off?” He breathes in a deep rumble right into your ear.
You exhale sharply, your eyes widening. 
“Whenever you decide, sir… I – I mean… At – at 7.” You clasp a palm over your mouth at your automatic response, your body burning with the highest of embarrassments.
Julian stills at your back, before a warm chuckle tickles the back of your neck.
“Is this what you like?” There's no hint of mockery in his tone, just genuine curiosity.
“No! I… I don't know. I… I've never-” you babble, your thoughts a mess. You have no idea where this came from. You only know that under all his sweet smiles, there's something that had you reacting that way.
“Hey, hey. You're alright.” He gently turns you around by the shoulders and makes you look into his kind eyes. “I can give you whatever you want… Whatever you need… But how about we start with dinner?”
Tagging because you've given me the most inspiration with your gifs: @darlingshane @lucy-sky
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maggotzombie ¡ 2 years ago
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It's not about the sex...
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Don't get me wrong. He is amazing. Like no other man. But it's not about how good he is doing the delicious dance with you in bed. It's about the after-game moment:
It's about how Walter just wraps you with his whole body, it's almost like both of you are in the same body, wet, hot, and naked on the covers completely messed up. He knows how to use the whole bed to his favor. You are so small next to him and it is not a bad thing because you feel safe, satisfied, happy, and loved. He does not talk much, but his act of just pulling you closer is him saying "I love you".
Or maybe about how August asks you if you're ok, dancing his hand on your back and your buns, feeling your respiration getting calm as he talks to you softly. He is a storm, intense and so firm, but after all that, he just wants to take care of you. "Are you ok?", "Do you need something?", "Do you want to rest?". It's enough for you to feel loved, especially when you are almost falling asleep and he lay down behind you, kissing the top of your head and smiling. You're his good girl.
Or maybe the heat is still around you two when Syverson grabs your ass smiling ear to ear. You can't help but smile too, he is a walking sin. Can't stop touching you even after both falling exhausted on the bed. And it's a good feeling. He can't control himself next to you, he needs you more than anything and he loves to show it. Talking about how amazing you were while on top of him moments ago, praising you by saying how hot your face is when the climax hits. He makes you laugh a bit by asking "when did you learn that?". What a man.
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maggotzombie ¡ 2 years ago
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The lack of the Corinthian fanfic on this app is hugely disappointing. I don't want to have to write it myself 😭
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maggotzombie ¡ 2 years ago
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eVERY TIME-
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maggotzombie ¡ 2 years ago
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rereading my own writing is just a constant fluctuation between "damn, girl, you wrote this? (affectionate)" and "damn, girl, you wrote this? (derogatory)"
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maggotzombie ¡ 2 years ago
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Shout out to fanfic writers that don’t get put on rec lists.
Shout out to fanfic writers who write short fanfics.
Shout out to fanfic writers who don’t write often.
Your fics are just as much a labor of love.
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maggotzombie ¡ 2 years ago
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this is SO hot!
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jas, your writing is seriously what i aim for but can't barely scratch the surface of it. so very detailed with clever words. and, oh god, i love this AU. boxer!Frank it's amazingly fitting because, well, Jon lol and this smut? i nearly ✨died✨
i love your work. okay, bye!
read more good stuff here
Stitch Up || Frank Castle x Reader
-> Rating: 18+
-> Word Count: 4.5k
-> Years of working as up and coming heavyweight boxing world champion hopeful Frank Castle all builds up to one night.
WARNING: my tumblr has a glitch where it repeats paragraphs. I Cant fix it :(
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Gif credit: unknown.
CW/TW: Boxer!Frank x Cutman!reader. Boxing (duh), mentions of injury, mentions of violence. P in V sex, unprotected sex. Relatively tame for me but I’m easing back into writing! Not proof read. Special tag to @bernthalus-christ and @darlingshane for being the two blogs my friend consistently sent me posts of to help me fall in love with Jon 🥺❤️
The brutality of fighting is that a loss isn’t your only beat down. It’s the rejection that follows, your name falling down the ranks, the rejected fight opportunities, the loss of respect. Working in the fighting industry and even as a fan, you have witnessed many incredible fighters reach unbelievable heights, only to plummet through the ranks and hit the canvas so hard that it shifts their entire career.
Frank Castle though? He was on the up and up, consistently winning his bouts within the first five rounds. Didn’t matter if he faced fighters with more experience or Goliath opponents that far outweighed him in every category from height to reach advantage, his sheer resilience and bull-like stubbornness meant he refused to hit the canvas. It was a sight to behold, something you had never seen in all your years in the industry.
However, facing off against such formidable fighters meant that Frank often walked out of the ring looking as mangled as a car in a high speed accident. Busted lips, black eyes swollen to the size of small lemons, cuts above his brow that would bleed into his eyes. No matter the injury, Frank pushed through and finished each and every opponent.
Watching the team work to lace up his gloves, Frank stands utterly still. He’s poised, face steady despite the roaring of the fans in the arena and the thumping bass on the speakers. His hair is cropped shorter than usual, a decision he had taken upon your orders. Tonight’s rival was a heavy hitter, someone who often caused significant damage, so you had insisted Frank cut his hair so you didn’t miss any significant splits to his upper forehead or sides of his skull. Despite how odd he looks without his longer, dark locks you find it suits him quite nicely like this. It shows off the intensity of the bone structure of his face better, you think. Draws attention to the deep brown of his tired eyes and the arch of his Cupid’s bow. There was no saving that nose though… That was a boxer’s nose.
Watching the team work to lace up his gloves, Frank stands utterly still. He’s poised, face steady despite the roaring of the fans in the arena and the thumping bass on the speakers. His hair is cropped shorter than usual, a decision he had taken upon your orders. Tonight’s rival was a heavy hitter, someone who often caused significant damage, so you had insisted Frank cut his hair so you didn’t miss any significant splits to his upper forehead or sides of his skull. Despite how odd he looks without his longer, dark locks you find it suits him quite nicely like this. It shows off the intensity of the bone structure of his face better, you think. Draws attention to the deep brown of his tired eyes and the arch of his Cupid’s bow. There was no saving that nose though… That was a boxer’s nose.
Watching the team work to lace up his gloves, Frank stands utterly still. He’s poised, face steady despite the roaring of the fans in the arena and the thumping bass on the speakers. His hair is cropped shorter than usual, a decision he had taken upon your orders. Tonight’s rival was a heavy hitter, someone who often caused significant damage, so you had insisted Frank cut his hair so you didn’t miss any significant splits to his upper forehead or sides of his skull. Despite how odd he looks without his longer, dark locks you find it suits him quite nicely like this. It shows off the intensity of the bone structure of his face better, you think. Draws attention to the deep brown of his tired eyes and the arch of his Cupid’s bow. There was no saving that nose though… That was a boxer’s nose.
“He’s all yours,” Coach calls to you, and you suddenly come back into your body, hyper aware that you’ve been gazing at Frank like some sappy rom-com scene. Stumbling over air as Frank approaches you, you snatch up the petroleum jelly from the table you’re sat by to begin preparing him for the fight.
“You good, doc?” He questions gruffly, using his name for you. You’re no doctor, just a Cutman, but one day you joked that Frank’s scars healed so well you should enter medical school and the name just… stuck. It always made you feel quite special. No one else had a nickname.
“Mhmm-hm!” You hum, a little too enthusiastically as you scoop the viscous gel onto your fingertips and reach up to swipe it over his face. You start out with his brow bones, the place his skin tends to split most. His eyes close, long lashes fluttering as you move to sweep it over his brow hairs. You hate being this close to him. Hate being able to see all the tiny, silver scars that evidence all the years you’d spent patching him up again. You recall them all, like the way you’d giggled when you stitched up the large cut across his temple while he rambled on about how ’dense’ the judges were to score round 7 of his fight in Dubai 8-10 in favour of his opponent just because Frank had slipped on the blood slick floor of the canvas.
Delicately, you brush the jelly over the expanse of his warm forehead as you chewed nervously on your lip. You know his eyes are open again, can feel his intimidating stare set hard on your expression.
“How are you feeling?” You ask him with a shaky breath as you drag the gel down his temples and over his cheekbones.
“Goddamn, you a shrink too, Doc?” He muses, a smirk playing on his lips that has you letting out a nervous laugh. It’s not often he’s in this mood before a fight. Usually he doesn’t want to entertain your pointless questions. It must mean he felt confident.
“I’m a woman of many talents,” you answer back jokingly, looking at him through your lashes. He’s got this spark in his eye, adrenaline surging before he had the living shit beaten out of him. You give him a playful, pointed look. “Just don’t make me work overtime by coming back to me a mess at the end of this, alright?”
“Yes Ma’am,” he murmurs, his voice a little quieter than usual, softer despite his gravelly tone. It makes goosebumps raise on your arms, makes your stomach flip. His eyes assess your own for a moment while you finish swiping the jelly across his jaw before flicking down to the curve of your lips and back up to your irises. It’s a split second, but you see it. God, you see it.
“Alright Punisher!” Coach calls out to him using his stage name now, causing him to break eye contact with you. You inhale sharply, not even noticing that you’d stopped breathing until you feel the burning in your lungs. “Let’s go.”
Frank wastes no time in stepping back from you, rolling his shoulders as he approaches the doors to the arena. Grabbing your medical kit despite your lightheadedness, you’re quick to follow behind him, keeping your eyes set on the rippling muscles of his bare back while the crowd erupts at the sight of the underdog approaching the ring to the thumping drums of Johnny Cash’s “God’s Gonna Cut You Down.”
____________________________________________
Bright flashes of Canon cameras worth more than your kidney capture the moment Frank’s opponent slams into the canvas so hard you swear you can feel the ground shake. The referee waves his arms wildly to call off the approaching Frank, and the team leap from their stools and clamber into the ring screaming in joy. Your face hurts from smiling too much already, having known by round three it was only a matter of time.
Coach raises Frank’s blood smeared gloved hands into the air as the stadium audience cheers. It’s deafening, much louder than any of your previous events, proving Frank was reaching new heights. You pick up your medical supplies, knowing he had to come to you for a check up before the official announcement. He seems to realise it at the same time as you, looking over his shoulder and catching your eye despite the deep cuts in his eyebrows leaking blood into his vision.
Stumbling over through the overly excited crowd in the ring made up of team members, sponsors, event management and the like, Frank makes his way towards you for his assessment. You smile wide, so wide you swear you pull a muscle in your cheek when you see his own lips twitch up in a smile.
“You good?!” He shouts over the clamour of the crowd, and you laugh weakly at him, shaking your head slightly as you take his chin in your palm. You take ahold of your pen torch to shine the light in his eyes and check for a concussion.
“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to say?” You call back, watching both of his eyes dilate as they should, much to your relief. Discarding the pen in your pocket, you grab more petroleum jelly and scoop some onto your gloved fingers.
Frank watches your fingertips sweep through the viscous material before looking back up to your face. “Decided I’d try a hand at your job,” he answers, and you can’t help but giggle.
“I think you should keep your hands in an area you clearly excel at,” you muse, looking up at him through your lashes and gesturing towards the ring with a tilt of your head while packing his eyebrow wounds so they stop leaking into his eyes while the announcement is made. You finish up as quickly as you can despite your shaking hands, knowing that the referee is waiting for you to give the all clear. It’s just so hard not to get distracted by the way droplets of sweat slipped down the valley of his pecs and across his sternum.
When you finally give the thumbs up to confirm he is free to go, Frank is quick to take ahold of your forearm and lean into your ear. “See you in the break room, yea?” When he pulls away to see your answer, you stare up at him with what you can only assume is a dumbstruck expression. He doesn’t look as though he requires any significant medical attention. You nod quickly, however, and Frank turns away for the official announcement of the winner, leaving you utterly at a loss.
Watching the referee take ahold of Frank’s wrist to await the officiaters call makes your heart hammer against your sternum- or was that thanks to Frank whispering in your ear? Your mind is spinning, the crowd drowned out by the speakers now.
“Ladies and gentlemen, at the end of round number five referee Kenny Bayless has called a stop to this contest. By way of knockout, the new undisputed heavyweight champion of the world, ‘The Punisher’ Frank Castle!”
The crowd erupts as the belt is draped over Frank’s waist, his hand raised by the referee to signal his victory to the masses. Frank’s smiling. Smiling wider than you’ve ever seen him smile. It’s odd to see him so happy, but he wears it well- just as he wears the belt as though it was made for him. It’s a bizarre thought, but you can’t help but note that the gold of the decorative buckle suits his skin quite nicely.
Pushing through the crowds as the interviews begin, you hear the gruff tone of Frank’s voice over the speakers thanking the fans for coming out and crediting the win to his team. The cheers of the crowd are so loud that you can still hear them even as the doors to the back rooms close behind you. Your ears buzz from the sudden drop in volume and you settle on the sofa in an attempt to bring yourself down from the adrenaline high you had been riding for the past three days.
The comedown from fight nights felt like a bus plummeting from the top of a cliff. All the build up to support Frank and working to ensure everything was perfect for him so he could fight at his peak ability. If the crash felt so significant for you, it was hard to imagine how it must feel for him. To go from focusing all your energy on the most important night of his life to hanging in a suspended state of anticipation awaiting the next fight contract must be so jarring.
The tug of the medical gloves against your skin as you pull them from your hands brings you back to reality. Crimson streaks of Frank’s blood stains the blue latex. You had been nervous when the gash had opened up halfway through round two. Against his brow bone, the blood has poured into his eyes and effectively blinded him. Still, he’d managed to guard against the onslaught of punches for the other half of the round to survive until you were able to aid him by packing the wound with so much jelly that you swore there’d be a world shortage.
“You look like you’ve just gone twelve rounds,” Frank's gruff voice sounds from the door, causing your head to snap up quickly from where it had been resting on the sofa. He’s smirking, belt still settled on his waist and a curved rim cap atop his head to hide the excessive facial bruising he always gets after a bout. He tends to grow his beard out to hide as many of the purple marks as he can.
“No,” you correct him, sitting up properly, “No, you look as though you’ve gone twelve rounds, I just feel like I have.” His laugh that he returns makes your lips stretch into a smile. He sets his energy drink and stained boxing gloves down on the table while he approaches you.
“Oh yea? Was only five rounds though, wasn’t it?” He muses, smug expressions causing you to roll your eyes playfully. His next sentence, though, catches you completely off guard. “You worried about me or somethin’?”
You must have looked like some comical, realistic version of Edvard Munch’s ‘The Scream’ thanks to the way your jaw nearly dropped from its hinges. Panic rose in your chest as you shook your head quickly. Fuck-
“N-No! No, I always knew you’d win! The cut just looked really nasty-“
“Had worse,” he points out calmly, settling beside you on the sofa with a groan. You swear that him breaking a sweat in the ring meant he was lacing the oxygen you shared with pheromones, because there’s no way you should feel this horny with him at this proximity.
“W-Well, yes but it was more that you couldn’t see…” you trail off, stumbling over your words as though your lips and tongue had gone numb when you feel his knee brush yours when he spreads his thighs to get comfortable, his head tilting back as he listened to you fumble for an explanation.
Quiet settles between the two of you, the only sound you can hear over the deafening thumping of your blood rushing through your ears being the soft breathing of Frank beside you, gazing up at the ceiling. He appears to be thinking, considering the best way to respond to your poor attempt at a reasonable explanation.
Finally, he turns his head towards you, deep brown irises flitting over your face and taking in the panicked expression it held. Had you not already been in such a nervous state, you probably wouldn’t have noticed the way he slowly moved his arm across the back of the sofa to settle directly behind your neck.
“‘S nice,” he murmurs, voice so gravelly in a whisper that you can barely tell what it is he’s saying. “Nice that you worry.”
Swallowing weakly, you break his gaze to glance down at the belt on his waist, chewing the inside of your cheek. “Mhmm. It’s what medical professionals do during a fight. Worry.”
Quiet again, but this time your hearing nearly gives out altogether when you feel the tips of his fingers brush at the nape of your neck, pushing ever so slightly into the hair at the base of your neck. It’s like your body forgets every single one of its bodily functions, frozen in place.
“That the only reason you’re worryin’?” He murmurs, as though he’s almost disappointed to hear it. You can’t even process what’s happening thanks to his touch, can’t comprehend what he’s implying. Frank never so much as hugs anyone after a fight, this is totally out of character for him.
Finally you look back up at him in shock to find he’s giving you a pointed look. It’s like he can read you like an open book, can sense your nerves. It’s not hard, despite your best efforts to conceal it your breathing is so ragged it’s like you’ve run a marathon up Everest without an oxygen tank.
Fuck, the tension crackles between you. He’s eyeing you cautiously but you can feel he wants to close the gap between the two of you from how tense he seems. You exhale slowly, trying to expel the tension you’re feeling in your chest as he slowly begins to lean forward.
You’re not sure if he’s just relieved to have won, if he’s delirious from his own adrenaline high or has a concussion that you somehow magically failed to notice, but he leans in slowly and captures your lips in a kiss that has your body practically curling inwards in surprise. It’s so much all at once, the salty scent of his sweat, the brush of his stubble against your chin and the feeling of his hand slotting just perfectly beneath your jaw as he holds your face in place with a gentle grip.
It’s slightly clunky at first, your mind taking a second to overcome the disbelief before you’re able to kiss him back in earnest, but once you start you can’t stop. You’d craved this moment over the years you’d been working with him, so caught up in your desire that you never even noticed or even considered that maybe he wanted it too.
“You good?” He checks in with you, murmuring against your lips. You nod quickly, nose bumping against his as you do before pressing your lips to his again with more urgency. You’re not sure how the desperation manages to break free from the modesty you’re trying to keep, but Frank returns your neediness in earnest, the intensity of the kiss rising as his tongue swipes across your lower lip.
Soon it’s messy, his tongue sliding against the flat of your own. You can taste the iron of blood from where his lip got cut in the fight early on. His teeth gently sink into the meat of your own, pulling away slightly and pulling the flesh of your lip along with him. It makes a whine bubble in your throat before you can stop it.
You don’t have any time to be embarrassed, the sound causing Frank to get a little more handsy. He’s pawing at your waist, your hips, lips moving to your ear to whisper words of encouragement. “That’s it, pretty girl. Wanna hear you do that again, can you do that again?”
It doesn’t take much, the slight pain of him sinking his teeth into your earlobe before sucking gently is enough to force you to fulfil his request.
He hums quietly in approval, palm spreading across your throat as his other hand takes ahold of your upper thigh to shift your body under his. You don’t argue, don’t tell him to stop, so with one strong lift he has your hips shifting down the sofa beneath his own so your back lays against it. You gaze up at him, noting the way he glances over your face and body with hooded eyes, equally as enthralled by you as you are with him.
“Mhmm, you’re so strong,” you whisper mindlessly, drunk on the kisses he had been spoiling you with. A soft chuckle sounds from his throat as he leans down and kisses the side of your neck. His stubble scratches the soft skin and his fingers knead the flesh of your thigh gently as he teases you with the wet kisses against your jugular. Your fingertips rest on his spine, tracing the vertebrae poking through his bare back.
Once again he has his palm across your throat, his thumb tucked under your jaw on one side of your neck, fingertips on the other. When he brings his lips back to your mouth and steals the air from your lungs with a bruising kiss, he squeezes, causing you to keen a breathless whine.
“That good, baby?” He asks you, knowing damn well he’s got you so worked up that you can’t form enough of a coherent sentence to answer his relatively simple question. “That makin’ you feel good?”
God it is. It is and you’re losing your mind. It’s made even worse by the fact you can feel Frank's erection press into your thigh through the black, silk material of his boxing shorts. They have ‘The Punisher’ embroidered into the runched, elasticated waistband, and you can’t help the way your brain immediately starts running away with itself, silently begging him to punish me!
It’s enough to push you over the edge, to lift your hips up and grind your clothed cunt into the length of his cock. You see it in his eyes, the way it damn near makes him rip the cushions of the sofa with the way he grips the material. His jaw goes slack, eyes flicking down to watch your hips move up into him before he’s fumbling with the zipper of your jeans.
The action alone has you whimpering softly, tilting your head back in frustration that he’s not slipping inside of you now. He hushes you softly, half-mindedly murmuring that he’s there. That he’s got you. After a struggle, he managed to pop the button on your waistband open, grabbing onto the loose denim and yanking it over the meat of your thighs. The force he uses jolts your body down suddenly, and you can’t help but let out a surprised laugh. You’re so taken aback that it’s a few moments before you realise he’s pulled your cotton panties down with them.
Thank God he did. Saves you the embarrassment of seeing you in anything but the lacey number you always wanted him to undress you from. It’s not as though you’d even imagined being fucked by him on the sofa in the break room this evening…
The brush of his lips against your hip bone, the press of the tip of his nose into your lower abdomen has you digging your heels into the sofa, chasing more. You blindly grab at the waistband of his shorts, but Frank hushes you again, trying to settle your desperation. It only causes tears of frustration to well in your eyes.
He’s kind enough to not keep you waiting long. Or maybe he just can’t help himself when you lazily spread your thighs wide for him, but he’s already working his shorts over his hips, his hard, thick cock springing free from the elasticated waistband. He’s so pretty, flushed and veiny with a little upwards curve to him. A pink tip.
“The belt stays on,” you whisper. You’re not quite sure where the confidence comes from, but the surge of euphoria you feel when Frank utters a breathy *fuck* in response feels almost as good as an orgasm, the end of the word a little pitchier than the start. It makes him settle his hips between your thighs, notching his pretty, pink, weeping tip against your entrance.
He wastes no time, slipping into you at a steady pace. You’re so fucking wet that he faces barely any resistance at all, his upper lip curling as he just slips right into your heat. “Attagirl,” he whispered, voice ragged, “Take me just like that.”
Stretching you open, his cock stuffing you full has your eyes rolling back into your head, loose fists hitting at his chest weakly as you’re overcome with the bliss it causes. Your toes curl, thighs squeezing at his waist as your heels settle on his lower back. You can feel him twitch inside you, the motion causing the head of his dick to push up against something mind-meltingly good inside of you.
The sight of your eyes rolling back into your skull has him jump-starting, rocking into you with all the energy he has left after the fight. It’s not bruising like you’d expected. No, it’s targeted. He’s found the place that makes you feel good, and he concentrates all of his focus there. It has you whining his name in seconds, has you digging your nails into the flesh of his forearms.
“Mhmm-hmm,” he hums shakily, feeling your walls clench around his cock, “That’s it right there isn’ it?” It is. It is and he’s fucking torturing you with it. He rolls his hips up into you and you're sobbing out, actually crying at how good it feels. He murmurs to himself, Jesus Christ, taken aback by how fucking beautiful you look taking his dick like this. His eyes are trained on your pussy, watching himself glide in and out with such ease, your creamy white cunt paining the angry red of his cock.
“Goddamnit- fuck, pretty baby,” he whispered, voice strung out as you clench around his thickness again. He can feel it coming. Can feel the way the muscles tighten so much against his waist. His fingers work their way between your thighs, calloused fingertips rubbing tight little circles over your sensitive clit to draw out those contractions, to cause white hot need to flush down your lower back and thighs.
“Fr-Frank-“ you hiccup, seeing double when you look up at him through teary eyes, “M’Gunna cum-“
“Already?” He muses, without a hint of malice. He likes that he can reduce you to this mess so simply. Loves it. He speeds you towards it even quicker, fucking hurls you over the edge when the flat of his palm pushes down on your lower abdomen so hard that he can feel himself fuck you through your stomach.
His groan of “shiiit” sends you tumbling, causes the white-hot pleasure to surge so suddenly that you go blind, body crumpling inwards and practically lifting from the sofa with it. Your nails dig into his skin so hard they draw blood, his resulting hiss just barely reaching your ears over the orgasm-induced static that dominates your hearing.
“Fra-Hah-“ you slur, unable to get the words out as your head drops back against the sofa again as he steadies his hips so as to not overstimulate you to the point of discomfort. It takes you a while to gain your breath back, to regain the ability to speak in coherent sentences. Even when you do, all you can manage is a- “Thank you~”
“Mhmm… Least I can do for my loyal Cutman,” he murmurs into your ear with that same gravelly tone that vibrates down your spine, pressing gentle, wet kisses to your temple and hairline to ease you down from the extreme high he’s driven you to.
“Hah,” you giggle weakly, turning your head to the side to capture his chocolate gaze. He’s so pretty like this, even all battered and bruised with a busted lip, crooked nose-bridge and black eye the shade of midnight he’s still so pretty. “Champion of the World still gotta take his prize.”
“Mhmmm, fuck.”
END
Authors note: thank you all for being so patient with me. It isn’t my best work, but I gotta break the rut somehow!
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