#However their break was only a couple weeks compared to my ~ five months | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ptergwen · 4 years ago

Text

web of lies

take a leap. if you start to fall, the net will appear to catch you.

photographer!peter x journalist!reader || masterlist

w/c: 7.1k

warnings: swearing, one drinking mention, descriptions of anxiety, and angst if ya squint

summary: peter can’t stop holding your hands, betty and ned are the modern day bonnie and clyde, ned is a terrible guy in the chair, the osborn’s are up to something, and mj hates you all

a/n: y’all i’m super excited about this series like i haven’t had an idea i’ve really loved in months? so it’s good to be back !!! there are tons of things i have planned and i can’t wait to share them with all of you hehe i really hope you enjoy part one <3 happy reading

to be honest, which is what you do best, you’ve had a thing for peter parker your whole time at the daily bugle. you actually almost told him once.

a couple months ago, peter walked you home on a night you worked overtime. he’d came in last minute to leave some pictures on your boss’s desk. no one else but you was there, hunched at your computer in the dim office lighting. peter was pleasantly surprised to see you, yet concerned for your well-being. you had to put your finishing touches on a story.

he didn’t feel comfortable letting you travel alone at that hour. so, he went with you when you were ready. his company was more than welcomed. you told peter about your article while you two sat on the subway. he’d listened intently, your head resting on his shoulder and his arm around you. he made sure you got to your apartment building alright as well.

“hey, peter?” you’d asked, halfway up the steps. he was waiting until you were inside and safe to leave. “hm? you good?” he’d smiled sort of expectantly. “yeah. i... i wanted to say...”

your words got caught in your throat when he gave you the softest puppy eyes you’ve ever seen. you couldn’t do it. for some reason, you were too scared to confess how you felt. “thanks again for walking me home,” you’d settled on. he’d seemed disappointed that was what you wanted to tell him. nevertheless, he said not to worry about it before taking off.

that one moment perfectly captures it all; how yours and peter’s narrative plays itself out.

—

“we’ve got an update on hydra v. the people!”

“those freaky giraffes escaped the zoo... again.”

“shoot one more spitball and it’ll be your last.”

“does anyone have an aspirin?”

welcome to the daily bugle, where the chaos never ends and the calm never starts. you’ll find new york’s finest writers, publishers, and creatives of all kind right here. that would include you. you’re one of the top journalists in the whole building, according to mr. norman osborn. he’s the brilliant and slightly insane man who runs this place.

although it’s rare for someone in your field, you were hired straight out of college. norman read a few pieces you’d written and loved them so much that he offered you a job. full time, full benefits, no questions asked. there was something special about the way you wove your words together. your writing had its own voice. a strong voice, one the paper was severely lacking.

you’ve been with the bugle for just over a year now. it’s not the quiet, nine to five gig you were initially expecting it to be. you’re each very unique individuals in your office, and there’s never a dull moment because of it. your coworkers can be found hosting debates on the riskiest topics or tackling each other for blueberry muffins, and that’s just a regular tuesday. the place is stranger than strange. but, it’s become home.

thanks to mr. osborn being so accommodating, you actually settled in rather quickly. another big help has been the friends you’ve made. your first was michelle jones, who prefers to be called mj. she’s a fellow journalist with a wickedly dark humor that trickles into her writing. if you had to describe her in one word, it would be blunt. mj is as real as it gets, and also eternally loyal. she keeps her circle small, so you’re honored you get to be in it.

mj sits right next to you, which means you’re always talking through your days. that’s due in part to the way your office is set up. there aren’t any cubicles, tables and swirly chairs taking up their space instead. norman heard it was more progressive, probably from his son harry.

harry is about your age, only a couple of years older. he hangs around quite a lot, but doesn’t do much with his time besides that. according to norman, he’s still seeking out his passion. he’s banking on him finding a suitable career at the bugle. he’d like to pass this all on to harry some day, hopefully sooner than later. either way, you don’t mind having harry here. he’s super funny and friendly with everyone.

there’s also ned leeds, who’s an editor and reviews most of your pieces. he’s sweeter than candy, even when he’s ripping your grammar to shreds. on the rare occasions you’re not discussing breaking news, you two talk about movies. ned is a film buff and gives you the best recommendations. you’re convinced he was a critic in his past life.

last but so from least is peter parker. he only works for the bugle part time, since he’s still in school. you both graduated from your respective colleges the same year. peter wants to get his masters degree, though. he’s a photographer who’s aspiring to be a cinematographer. him and ned have their passion for the industry in common, and that’s what makes them such great friends.

you learned this and more from the times you and peter have partnered up on stories. he’s one of your best friends not only at the bugle, but in your entire life. the many long nights you’ve spent collaborating have brought you close to each other. they consist of drinking and deep talks, along with some actual work. he takes the pictures, you do the writing. you’ve been told you make a lovely pair.

peter says it himself, too. you’d like to believe he means it as more than coworkers. he’s so caring, and smart, and pure, and peter. yeah, you like him an awful lot. you can hardly stand the feeling of it sometimes.

the fact that you you haven’t come clean already is ridiculous.

“goddamn. not again,” you mutter out. “em, you better come look at this. it’s bad.” mj wheels over to you in her chair with a puzzled look. her eyes follow yours, landing on your computer. “leeds just sent this? to everyone?” she questions, your reply a short hum. you’re both staring daggers at the email your screen displays.

ned is responsible for assigning each journalist their own topics to cover. he’s been lacking a bit recently, having you write up think pieces on fluffy things. in other words, stuff that no one cares about. he asked you to compare oat milk and almond milk just last week. you’d hoped this week would be better, but here you are.

“this is ass. who does he think we are, buzzfeed?” mj scoffs at her own words. the daily bugle prides itself on being a reliable news source, on paper and tv. you’re starting to stoop down to the low level of your competitors. “he assigned me some tiktok dance trend. i’m not writing a single word about that app.” she sets her elbows down on the table, head in her hands.

“aw, why not? grandma mj isn’t down with the kids?” you tease and click out of the upsetting email. “i don’t write for kids,” mj deadpans. she pushes her glasses up on her nose. “what’d you get?” “the evolution of memes,” you gloomily reply. you’re surprised norman has been approving these topics. then again, ned is the head editor. he can do whatever he wants regardless of approval.

mj glares over at the kitchen, where betty brant currently resides. she’s making two hot chocolates instead of her usual one. “i blame her,” mj mumbles to you. your eyebrows furrow. “dude, what? betty is an angel. she doesn’t even work in editing.” betty is the bugle’s highest rated anchorwoman. her and her news team are on people’s televisions every night.

“no, but she has been spending a generous amount of time with leeds,” mj grumbles. she’s admittedly very nosy. the upside is that she tells you any juicy office drama there is. “my theory is betty’s making him give us crap stories so she can report the good ones.” she glances over at you to see what you think. “no way. that can’t be allowed... or legal,” you laugh back.

as if on cue, ned appears next to betty in the kitchen. he takes the extra hot coco that’s piled high with whipped cream. betty tucks a sheet of paper into his suit pocket and kisses his cheek, then he’s gone. you can only gasp as you watch this unfold. what has she done to poor, clueless ned?

“not such an angel anymore, huh?” mj smirks in satisfaction. “suddenly, she has red horns and a pitchfork,” you bitterly agree with your tongue in your cheek. betty waves to you two on her way back to broadcasting. mj gives her a fake nice finger wave, you ignoring her. “we can’t sit back and let this happen, em. we have to do something,” you decide. “let’s tell norman.”

uninterested, mj takes off her glasses and starts to clean them. “like he’ll believe us. yeah, golden girl betty brant is sabotaging the writer’s room,” she rewords her previous statement to put its stupidity in perspective. you throw your hands up. “she is, though! we literally watched it happen!” mj puts her freshly wiped glasses back on and sighs.

“i doubt norman would care, y/n. every newspaper to ever exist is corrupt somehow.” your pessimistic old pal has a point. however, you’re not so willing to accept it. “why can’t we be the first one that isn’t?” you offer a small smile. mj snickers, wheeling back to her own computer. “those are words of the innocent.” she’s already tapping her fingers across the keyboard.

“i thought you weren’t doing the tiktok piece,” you say under your breath. you’re slightly pissed mj turned you down, since she’s the reason you know about betty’s meddling. “i’m not,” mj answers sharply. “i’m gonna email quentin and ask if we can change our topics. happy?” quentin beck is another editor in the building. he’s not bad, but he is intimidating. no one typically goes to him as their first option.

“i’m thrilled,” you confirm and grin at mj to emphasize it. “thanks for stepping up. you’re forgiven.” “i didn’t realize i had to be sorry,” mj notes, this time in a playful manor. she shakes her head as she begins writing. “you and your morals.”

what you value most in your career is honesty, under any circumstances. of course, the other daily bugle writers are the same. norman strictly prohibits clickbait and crazy headlines because that isn’t real news. you leave that to companies like buzzfeed. you’re honest in the sense that you say whatever has to be said, what everyone else is too afraid to. you’ll speak your truth no matter who tries to stop you.

it didn’t used to be that way. there’s some childhood trauma that remains deep in the back of your mind. you’ve left that behind you now, having over a decade to cope with it. hey, they say the past is in the past. what’s important is your takeaway, that you would never let yourself or anyone else be silenced from there on out. never again.

quentin ends up giving you the okay to write different stories. he lets you and mj choose choose your own because he’s got “better things to do” and you’re “big girls.” what a peach he is. mj goes with how capitalism is continuing to provoke global warming. she has something to say about every major world issue, and you admire the hell out of her for it.

you’re a bit stuck when it’s time to write your article. it’s terribly ironic because you pushed for this. you aren’t too worried, though. the city is crawling with material, so you’ll find what you’re looking for eventually. lucky for you, some much needed inspiration comes skipping out of the elevator.

“morning, peter,” you hear liz greet him at the front desk. she’s your floor’s receptionist. her wisdom and patience keep this place going. “hi, liz. how’s it going?” he asks. “things have been quiet... mostly. can i do anything for you?” liz peers up at him. peter sports a shy smile. “uh, yeah. mr. osborn wanted to see me?” “right. hang on.” she nods, dialing his office phone number.

it’s endearing how peter calls him mr. osborn, seeing as the rest of you go with norman. he’s probably the politest guy you’ve ever met.

grinning, liz puts down the phone. “you can go in whenever you’re ready. good luck!” peter laughs nervously and turns to leave. “thanks, you too.” his face falls when he realizes his mistake. “wait, i- i didn’t mean to say that. that was stupid. you’re not-“ “it’s fine, peter,” liz reassures him. his anxiety makes him trip over his words sometimes. that, and he’s a bit dorky in general. you find it rather adorable.

you also wonder what exactly he needs good luck for. he’s not even supposed to be working today, so your curiosity as to what’s going on has been piqued.

“um, i’m gonna go now. bye!” peter rushes off, his face tinted pink from the embarrassing encounter. you’re hoping he’ll stop and talk with you for a little while, but he heads straight to norman’s office. your whole body deflates at that. mj notices from her peripherals.

“what’s the matter? missing your hubby?” she coos, her words dripping in sarcasm. “no,” you lie. “i’m... i don’t know what to write about.” ok, there’s some truth. mj gives you a couple pats on the shoulder. “ask parker for help. you two work... well together. don’t you?” this must be the zillionth time you’ve heard that.

“we do,” you murmur and glance at norman’s closed door. peter is hidden behind it. “i just don’t wanna bug him. he has finals soon, and whatever norman is putting him up to. it’s my job, anyway.” mj pokes your arm. “those sound like excuses to me,” she concludes, still jabbing at you childishly. “you really just don’t wanna tell him you like-“

“can you keep it down?” you hiss, yanking your arm back. “he’s literally right over there.” peter stands up and shakes norman’s hand. you catch it through the blinds on his window. “y/n, you were drooling over his mere presence only minutes ago,” mj prefaces, a smile pulling at her lips. “you can handle three little words. i like you, that’s it. spit it out already.”

you’ll never admit this to mj, but she’s right. you lost your momentum after your first failed attempt to say the three little words. you’re still not sure what stopped you. you’d shared the details of that faithful night with her, and she’s been pushing you to try again since.

the door to norman’s office opens, and out walks peter. he’s beaming after their conversation, which seems like a good sign. harry passes peter on his way in to pay his dad a visit. he claps him on the shoulder, peter happily accepting before continuing his stride back into the main office. it takes a moment to register that he’s coming towards you.

you quickly set your focus back on your computer so he doesn’t think you’ve been watching him. even though, you definitely have.

“y/n!” peter calls your name. he’s on the opposite side of your table, in front of you. “peter!” you match his tone. “i was just dropping by. i thought i’d say hey while i’m here.” he’s still grinning. “what’re you doing?” he looks cute as ever in an oversized and cream colored sweater. his curls are slicked back with a tad too much product, cheeks rosy. you gaze up at him when he rests his arms on the table.

“pretending to be productive,” mj answers for you, pressing her lips together. peter cocks his head to the side. “pretending?” “ignore her. she’s being a shit stirrer today,” you explain. “like every other day,” he jokes, earning a laugh from you. mj just tuts and keeps writing. “talk about me like i’m not here,” she mumbles to herself, then gets back into her article.

“anyways, i thought you didn’t work today?” you ask to take the attention off yourself. also, because you’re curious. “oh! get this.” peter perks up even more, if that’s possible. he has energy like no other. “you know alex in broadcasting? betty’s camera guy?” “what about him?” you wonder. “he called in sick earlier this morning, with the flu or something.” he’s oddly excited to announce this. that prompts you to make a funny face.

biting back another smile, peter elaborates. “mr. osborn needed someone to fill in for him, so he picked me. i’ll be here all week.” it makes sense, since peter knows how to work a camera and does so wonderfully. you give him a celebratory push at his chest. “peter, that’s amazing! this is the perfect way to transition from pictures to film, right?” he’s nearing his finals at school, which consist of more movie-like projects. the news will be great practice.

then, he’s off to hollywood. you’ll put that out of your mind for now.

“exactly! i think it’ll be a good place to start. the pay isn’t bad either.” peter wiggles his eyebrows at you, you giggling once again. you do a lot of that when he’s around. that’s going to be more often now. “plus, i get to see you. everyone wins.” he squeezes your hand that was just on him. your heart begins to thump. “except alex,” you challenge, playing with his fingers. “but, for real. i’m happy you get to do this and that we’ll be spending more time together.”

“thanks, y/n/n. me too.” peter grins and leans over, taking a peek at your computer screen. there’s a blank word document on it. “you never told me what you’re up to,” he chuckles. “guess mj was right... nothing.” “i’m always right,” she chimes in from next to you. you look between the two of them with a scowl. “i haven’t found my story yet. i don’t know, this never happens.” peter nods as you share your dilemma. “no good ideas are coming to me,” you murmur.

“they will. you have a way of attracting things.” he licks his lower lip, your heart completely stopping this time. “well, i gotta go set up for rise and shine with betty brant.” he waves his hand like he’s presenting his words. that’s what betty calls her morning news segment. “be careful with her. she’s being really sketchy these days,” you warn peter, mj grunting in agreement.

confused, peter purses his lips. “really? ned says she’s a sweetheart. they’ve been going out for a while.” mj pops her head up and adjusts her glasses. “did ned also tell you she’s bribing him to give her all of our scoops?” she’s asking rhetorically because she already knows the answer. of course he didn’t. “it’s one thing to not like her. you’re just making things up now,” peter huffs.

mj kicks your foot under the table. “i told you no one would believe us. not even peter gullible parker.” “it’s benjamin,” he corrects her. “whatever,” she brushes it off, resuming her work.

peter does tend to be sort of naive, to only see the good in things when there’s plenty of bad. you’re the same in that way, unless you hang around mj for too long.

“is that true? betty’s stealing your stories?” peter turns to you and asks. you gesture to your screen. “i don’t have one, so you do the math.” he hums sympathetically. he’ll listen to you, never mj. “i’m sorry. thanks for telling me, y/n. i’ll watch out for her.” he bends his fingers to look like goggles, putting them around his eyes. you sigh lightheartedly.

“are you twenty two years old or twelve?” mj remarks, but not without a comeback from peter. “you’re, like, eighty five. worry about that.” they’ve had this type of banter for as long as you’ve known them. it’s equal parts amusing and exhausting. “don’t be late on your first day.” you snap peter out of it with a knowing smile. he returns it.

“i hope something crazy happens so you can write about it.” he’s walking backwards now, towards the elevator. “see you later, pete,” is all you say back, yet another laugh threatening to escape you. “see you. bye, michelle,” peter says just to bug her. “it’s mj,” she groans without looking up. he shrugs. “not so fun, is it?”

after peter is gone, you try to get back into work. or rather, you try to start your work. what he said about you having a way of attracting things keeps ringing in your head. was he flirting? no, he couldn’t have been. peter parker doesn’t flirt. words aren’t his strong suit, and you have countless memories that prove this to be true. earlier with liz, for example.

you’re probably reading way into this. peter was simply doing what any good friend would do and gave you advice.

it’s late in the afternoon when anything worth mentioning happens again. peter is still with betty, as far as you know. they’re probably preparing for the nighttime news now. all you’ve done since seeing him is nibble on snacks and bug mj, who’s almost done with her story despite your distractions. this is really bad, considering your deadline to submit is at the end of today.

you’ve never missed a deadline.

mj emails her work to quentin while you repeatedly bang your head on the table. she hits send before deciding to entertain you. “whatcha doing over there?” she cautiously prompts, powering off her computer. “trying to get an idea. i’m desperate, if you couldn’t tell.” your voice is muffled. “i could.” mj grabs your shoulders and pulls you back so you’re sitting up. you childishly pout.

“y/n, the only thing that’s gonna give you is brain damage,” mj says sternly, then softens her tone. “why don’t you ask for an extension? norman gives me them all the time.” whining, you slump down in your chair again. “yeah, but you’re you! we do things differently, have different expectations put on us.” she’s back to cold mj after you say that. “alright. at least i did something today besides pine over that little-“

mj’s insult for peter is interrupted by harry. “ladies, what’s shaking?” he comes up to you two with a the hint of smirk on his face. you manage a nod to acknowledge him. “oh, hey... harry,” mj unenthusiastically replies. she’s the one person who isn’t really a fan of him. “not much. y/n was just having a tantrum.” “she was not,” you dismiss her. “it’s work stuff. you know your dad.”

harry clicks his tongue in a teasing way. “yep, the grind never stops in this joint. boss man is...” he does the sign for cuckoo with his finger. you laugh a little at that. “in a good way,” you add on. mj only watches you two, blinking blankly. harry gives you a definitive pat on the back. “before i forget, he wants to see you.” that gets mj talking. “norman?” she questions. “your dad?” you choke out at the same time.

“who else? he said you two have to talk.” harry flashes you a weary smile. “have fun in there, old sport.” you’re too busy biting the skin off your bottom lip to respond. “mhm... she will,” mj speaks on your behalf. even she sounds worried. saluting you both, harry leaves to go pester your other colleagues. you’re completely and totally fucked.

“that’s it for me!” you grin sarcastically, freaked out by harry. “i’m fired, aren’t i? i’m definitely about to get fired, and it’s all because-“ “relax!” mj cuts off your rambling. she reaches down and grasps at your wrists. “get it together, y/l/n. you’re the best we have, okay? you aren’t going anywhere.” your grin becomes a frown. “then why does norman wanna talk to me? and, why don’t i have a story?”

mj always has the answers, but this time is the execption. she lets out a breath. “i don’t know. you’ll go find out and tell me what happens.” there’s no use protesting. you’re going to have to face whatever you’re about to at some point. “ok,” you give in, defeated. “i’ll be back soon, i hope.”

the walk to norman’s office feels like a walk of shame. mj can do nothing but sit back and observe it. if this ends the way you think it will, you’ll be collecting your things and won’t ever return. norman is a kind man, and he’s usually pretty understanding. he doesn’t mind the workplace shenanigans as long as you get your job done. unfortunately, you haven’t today.

you hear your boss’s booming voice when you approach his door. inhaling deep, you knock on it, and the room goes silent. “come in,” norman responds after a few seconds. mustering up a smile, you open the door to be met with your doom. “hi, am i interrupting something?” you check. “not at all! you’re just the person i wanted to see. sit, sit,” he beckons you over. he’s not using his angry voice, so maybe you’re in the clear. you enter the room as told.

you’re shocked to see a terrified peter is already in one of the chairs. he visibly relaxes a bit now that you’re here. what the hell is happening? whatever you were expecting, this was the last thing.

taking the armchair next to peter, you sit facing norman’s desk. you nudge his arm to get his attention. his big brown eyes lock with yours. “what’s going on?” you whisper. “no idea,” peter whispers back. the two of you turn to norman again when he claps his hands. he’s plopped down into his cushy leather seat.

“so,” he begins, gaze flicking from peter to you. “you kids know why you’re here?” “is it because i missed my deadline?” you blurt out. you’re once again a nervous wreck. peter doesn’t speak, just winces. “not that. although, i did hear from ned that you turned down his assignment.” norman flicks at a post-it on his desk. “i asked quentin for one instead. me and mj,” you explain, peter’s eyes going wide.

“you talked to quentin? that guy’s bad news,” he murmurs to you. “how so?” norman questions, since it’s his employee. “he- he, um,” peter clears his throat before answering, “he’s super critical, you know? hates all my pictures.” “i love your pictures,” you assure him, the corners of his lips turning up. “your style is so cool. yeah, though. quentin’s pretty bitter.”

considering this, norman drums his fingers on the desk. “i’ll look into that. but, that isn’t why you’re here. i’m letting you off the hook this time.” your whole demeanor changes and a huge weight lifts off of you. “really? you are?” “i have a scoop of my own that i want you to cover,” he continues, peter bumping your knee happily. a toothy grin takes over your face.

“since peter will be sticking around for a while, i want him to join you.” norman waits a beat in case you have any questions. it’s been a minute since you last worked together. peter laughs in disbelief. “you want me to take over for alex and do this?” norman nods proudly. “y/n will need the extra hands, if you have them.” “yes, sir. i do,” peter immediately confirms. “my last class is next thursday, so i have the time.”

“wait, so you’re almost done? that’s awesome!” you bump peter’s knee this time. “yup, all that’s left is finals... and studying.” he mindlessly takes your hand, lacing your fingers together. you’re enjoying his gentle touches. “thank you so much, norman. seriously, i appreciate this a lot,” you tell him and mean it. “hey, no problem,” he chuckles at your eagerness. you grip peter’s hand tighter.

“what’s the story?” “ah, yes. the most important part,” norman starts, peter sharing an excited look with you. “how familiar are you two with spider-man?” his excitement fades at the question posed. it’s unbeknownst to you, caught up in the moment. “uh, same as everyone else, i guess,” you casually reply. “how come?” “he’s your subject.” norman points at you both. “you’re gonna study him over these next few months.”

peter’s hand goes limp in yours, and he gulps hard, throat feeling dry. “you mean, like, an exposé?” “no, no. there will be no exposing,” norman clarifies. “i’m sure he wears the mask for a reason.” that settles peter only slightly. you’re not sure why he’s so tense all of a sudden. “what’s our aim here, then?” you steer the conversation.

“see what new york’s favorite hero gets up to every day, how his life is beyond the crime fighting,” norman further describes your task. peter exhales a shaky breath, shifting away from you in his seat. the golden sun hits his face and reveals a bead of sweat dripping down it. you stare at his figure in worry. “you okay, peter?” “fine. i’m just... hot,” he murmurs back. his sweater does look pretty heavy, so you concede.

getting back to norman’s story, you grimace at the idea. “do you really think people will want to read that? for lack of a better term, it sounds kind of...” you pause. “basic.” “i thought the same thing at first,” he surprisingly agrees with you. “harry pitched the idea to me this morning. you won’t believe it! the other night, he caught spider-man hanging outside his window.”

“harry... harry saw him?” peter squeaks out. he uses the wool material that feels like it’s swallowing him to dab at his forehead. “he stopped on his balcony. must have been pretty late, the kid’s a night owl,” norman says about his son. your face lights up as you listen to him. “he took some shots of spidey in action, when he swung off. i saw a few. they were pretty great.” he’s grinning at his son’s success.

“maybe he’ll get into photography with you, pete,” norman suggests. peter gives him a weak smile in return. “we’d be happy to have him.” he usually has a lot more to say about his career than that. his behavior is starting to genuinely concern you. “anyway,” norman gets back on topic, “it got me thinking. how much do we really know about this guy? we’re supposed to blindly put our trust in him?”

you’re beginning to see the appeal now. you’ve written your share of pieces on the avengers and their methods, tackling the same questions norman just asked you. spider-man shouldn’t be overlooked, especially when he operates so close to your home. this could be another revolutionary superhero story in the making. and, you get to bring peter along for the ride.

“you know what? this has a lot of potential,” you smile at norman, then peter. he has his phone in his lap, fingers flying across the screen. it must be something important. you’ll discuss with norman while he takes care of that. “we could make it a weekly thing, about spider-man’s adventures. find out what we can about the man behind the mask...” peter shoots up in his seat. “without taking it off,” you finish, putting his mind at ease.

“see, i knew you were gonna love it! it was a blessing in disguise, you missing that deadline.” norman bangs his fist on the table with a hearty laugh. “what do you say, peter? you still in?” peter slips his phone back in his pocket. his tongue pokes out to wet his lips. “oh, of course. i can’t wait to work with you, y/n/n,” he speaks in a monotone voice, adding on, “again.”

something is definitely bothering him, and it isn’t the weather.

“i gotta go. betty needs me upstairs, so,” peter moves to get up, his body stiff. you assume that’s who he was texting. “thank you again, mr. osborn.” he’s rushing out of the room just like that, until you call after him. “um, don’t you wanna set a time to meet up? so we can get started?” you reasonably ask. “i... i really gotta go. find me later,” peter tells you, giving you both a tight lipped smile and running off.

“the dynamic duo is back!” norman announces to you. you’re disappointed you can’t share that sentiment with peter.

he’s absolutely booking it down the stairs, not bothering to wait for the next elevator. this is bad. this is a nightmare.

peter went from having one of his best days in a while to the worst in not even a full round of work. today started off fine, and got better when norman promoted him. it got way better when you came along. he saw your smile that makes his insides tingle, heard your laugh that’s the prettiest sound to grace his ears, held your hand that he never wants let go.

things went a bit downhill after that. betty was pushy and yelled at him a lot, demanding he only film her good angles for the segment. you and mj weren’t wrong when you told him to be careful.

later on when he saw you again, everything was okay. he was physically shaking as brad told him mr. osborn requested to see him. brad is mr. osborn’s assistant. a try-hard for sure, but good at his job. why did mr. osborn call him in? did betty complain already?

they’d been sitting in mostly silence, save for small talk until you came knocking on the door. simply being next to you was enough to ground peter and his racing thoughts. it was enough, then it wasn’t.

the whole day had gone to shit after he found out you were going to be writing stories about his alter ego. not only that, but he was helping. during the pitch, he’d texted ned to meet him in the bathroom. he was really anxious and needed a friend who understood why.

ned accidentally found out peter is spider-man last year. it’s a long story that involves peter hiding from some bad guys in the building and ned shrieking so loud the lights flickered. they’re cool now that peter talked things through with him. his secret has been kept, from what he knows.

pushing open the men’s bathroom door, peter is a mixture of sweat and ragged breaths. he’s panting from his fast descent down the staircase. he takes in his disheveled appearance using one of the mirrors. his styled hair is now damp and undone, hands trembling and palms sweaty, chest heaving. here’s his daily reminder that anxiety is not cute. as if he didn’t know.

his stupid, gigantic freaking sweater is only making things worse. it’s suffocating him. no one else is in here, so peter pulls it over his head and tosses it to the ground. he’s got a t-shirt on underneath that happens to be black. what a convenient day for him to wear the hottest material there is.

peter splashes his face with some cold water next to try and cool himself down. that doesn’t do much for him. his face still feels like it’s on fire, but now it’s wet. he takes his hands through his mop of curls, backing away from the sink.

“fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck,” peter repeats to himself. he’s silent for a moment, then rage overcomes him. he kicks open a bathroom stall. “shit! i can’t do this. what am i supposed to-“

the door creeks open, so peter shuts up in case it isn’t ned. it thankfully is, and he wears a deep frown at the sight of his best friend. “dude, what happened? you look...” “terrible. i know,” peter finishes for him. he tugs at his locks in another attempt to tame them. ned approaches him carefully. “you’re not, like, dying... are you? because betty was telling me you have to-“ “of course you were with betty,” peter exhales in frustration. “no, ned. i’m not dying.”

in ned’s defense, the text he received was very alarming. all peter wrote was, ‘EMERGENCY. SOS.’

“i mean, yeah. it was my break.” ned sits on the ledge by the window, close to peter. “you do the same with y/n.” the mention of your name upsets peter all over again. he hides his face in his hands as ned watches. “if you’re not dying, then what’s the problem?” ned finally asks. “me and y/n...” peter removes his hands from his face, meeting ned’s worried eyes. “mr. osborn wants us to do a project together.”

“uh, peter? you’ve been saying how much you miss her forever, dude! you’re not excited?” ned snorts at him. he means well, but he has no clue what he’s talking about. “no. it’s supposed to be about spider-man,” peter answers angrily. this isn’t the support he was hoping for. realizing the severity of the situation, ned gets serious.

“oh... but, you’re still doing it?” he questions. “i didn’t have a choice,” peter scoffs out. “i can’t let either of them down.” “you’ll expose yourself!” ned escalates things further. “it’s not like that. we’re gonna follow spider-man around and post updates on him,” peter says, technically in the third person. he’s given an are you insane? look from ned.

“you are spider-man! and, no offense, but you’re not so good at hiding it,” ned refers to himself finding out. “how are you gonna be in two places at once?” damnit, peter hadn’t thought about that yet. he can’t be taking pictures of spider-man and swinging from building to building simultaneously. “i- i’ll figure it out,” peter stammers, unconvincingly.

ned looks him over in a disapproving way. “jeez. you’re really putting your life on the line for this girl-“ “woman,” peter interjects, not loving ned’s attitude towards you. “have some respect.” unfazed, ned gets up from the windowsill. “speaking of women, remember betty? you’re still on the clock,” he changes the subject. peter nearly forgot he has to go film her segment.

“i’ll head up to her now,” peter gives in. he scoops up his discarded sweater, not bothering to check his appearance again. ned follows behind him to the door. “we wrote her script together, you know,” he gladly informs peter, who already knows from you. “not really a flex,” peter mumbles his response. “peter, lighten up.” ned hits at his shoulder. the two of them exit the bathroom.

“you’ll figure this out later. i can always help.” he shoots him a sugary sweet smile. “thanks, ned. for talking with me and everything.” peter doesn’t smile back. they do a quick bro handshake, then they’re going their separate ways. “have a good show, dude!” ned yells back, to which he doesn’t get a response. peter doesn’t have it in him.

he allows himself to take the elevator back up to broadcasting. he’s so drained from the several anxiety attacks he endured. while peter waists for the elevator, he contemplates all the issues he’d better solve. it’s a relief to hear it ding because it brings him back to earth. that doesn’t last long because both you and betty are there when the door opens.

you’d each had the same idea, to find peter. unlike betty, your intentions were good. you asked liz if she saw peter leave. she told you he went downstairs, so you did also. betty was already in the elevator when it got to your stop. she was looking for him because, you guessed it, he had to record the news. the small space was filled with tension as you and betty occupied it.

“perfect. we’re going right back up,” betty beams, motioning for peter with her index finger. “hop in!” “coming,” peter does as told, going to stand between you and betty. she presses the button for your floor and theirs. the doors close. “pete?” you speak up, voice soft. “you kinda ran off earlier. i thought you were with betty.” “clearly, he wasn’t,” betty sneers.

you’re less concerned with her and more with peter. the sweater he looked so huggable in is now folded in his arms, his face splotchy and jaw clenched. he must have gotten triggered by something back in norman’s office.

“are you sure you’re okay? you... you can talk to me about it.” you take a step closer to peter, your doe eyes searching for his. he meets them with a tiny smile. at least, it’s real this time. “i’ll be fine, y/n/n. ‘s nice that you came to check on me, though.” “don’t mention it.” your arms loop around his neck and bring him into a hug. peter hugs you back by your middle, chin resting on your shoulder, breathing out in relief.

you keep your hands on his shoulders when you pull back. his stay on your sides, a lopsided grin now crossing his features. “spider-man...” you quirk an eyebrow. “how are you feeling about that?” “should be cool,” peter somehow maintains himself. “i’m mostly looking forward to doing it with you.”

listening in, betty joins the conversation. “what’s happening with spider-man? anything i should know?” her hand reaches into her bag and emerges with a notepad. does she ever think of her own content? “she’s nothing if not persistent,” you grumble to peter. chuckling, he pulls you into his chest. if he didn’t hold you back, you would’ve pounced on her.

“we’re gonna do a piece on him,” peter tells her. “you can’t copy or steal this one because it’s already been approved,” you contribute, smiling smugly as peter holds you tighter. betty is taken aback. “are you accusing me of stealing? who said i-“ “ned ratted on you... sorry,” peter says in a sing song voice. squealing, you jump away from him. “he did? we were right?”

“mj’s never wrong,” he reiterates. “mj knew about this? oh my god, i can’t believe her!” betty stomps her foot. “we got you on candid camera.” you make a clicking noise with your mouth. peter mimes taking a picture to back you up. “alright, alright. i won’t do it again,” betty mumbles, turning away from you two in annoyance.

“finally!” you hold up your hand for a high five, which peter gives you. “we really do make the best team,” he hums. your fingers intertwine with peter’s, and he lays his palm flat against yours. he prays extremely hard you don’t notice that it’s sweaty. you do, but you couldn’t care less.

“i was wondering when you’d wanna start our... research?” peter asks you, his lip between his teeth. “you were saying something earlier. maybe we could make a schedule.” “how elaborate of us that would be,” you tease. that earns a breathy laugh from peter. with a knowing smile, you put your free hand back on his shoulder.

“what are you doing tonight?”

peter parker taglist

@saturnpeter @tpwk-grande @itstaskeen @missyouhollnd @becicamina @dummiesshort @zspideyy @watchitimreadinghere @my-patronus-is-mabel-pines @dpaccione @karispotters11 @theofficialzivadavid @thehumanistsdiary @kelieah @aayaissaa @petersgroupie @annab-nana @tayyx @swtltlmrvlgrl @magicalxdaydream @haoluvver @kjune113 @captainamirica @marvel-dork98 @emmastarz @killingbxys @viriditie @misshale21 @veryholland @liliswifts @tommydarlings @rebelemilu @peterspideysense @cr-uelsummer @dreamy-clousds @quaksonhehe @quxxnxfhxll @blackbat2020 @babyblue19 @falconxbarnes @zachary-s @dirtytissuebox @dracoswhore007 @heavenlyholland @thsquad @etheralholland @dhtomholland @awh-lilies @tomshufflepuff @multifamdomfan12

if i forgot you please lmk!

#peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker smut #spiderman #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic

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andypantsx3 · 4 years ago

Text

say the word and you know i’ll follow

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

status: complete

length: 3,262 words

summary: While moving in with Shouto, you get caught up reliving the scene of his confession. Quite literally.

(A smutty oneshot sequel to my fic if i could keep cool.)

tags: romance, reader-insert, fluff, smut

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut, cunnilingus, light bondage

notes: Also cross-posted on my AO3! The manga really has me all in my Todo feels rn but I don't wanna write a whole other fic before I finish the Hawks one, so please have this fluffy smutty one shot as a compromise. It likely won’t make sense unless you’ve read if i could keep cool first, so please check it out if you have the time!

It was sweltering when you stepped outside to make your way to Shouto’s apartment.

A thin film of sweat immediately began to build wherever your skin pressed against the box you carried, and the sun beat down furiously on the crown of your head. You instantly started to second guess your choice to take the train, wondering how dumb of a move it had been to decline an alternative means of transit. It was going to be like being packed into a sardine can and roasted over a hot stove.

Shouto had offered to send an agency car, but there were only so many more times you were going to make the trip from your crumbling student apartment to his place, and you had wanted to make the most of it. You didn’t even really need to bring boxes over just yet--as Shouto had hired a moving company to take care of everything next week--but you didn’t want to lose anything that was inside this one. This one held all your most treasured items--keepsakes from your friends, a pressed white tulip, and all the gifts Shouto had ever given you (minus, of course, the vegetables).

Steeling yourself for an uncomfortable twenty minutes, you set off towards the station, weaving through the tired crowds of people who looked just as sun-weary as you. Thankfully, with a hat over your face and a box you could shift to obscure your features, very few people seemed to recognize you as you did so.

A lot of the media attention surrounding your mishap a year ago had died down, and you had been good about keeping your relationship mostly private, so you weren’t exactly a household name to most people. But there were enough twitter-savvy teens and meme-literate college students that you were sometimes recognized as you went about your daily life.

This time, you were only eyed curiously by one pair of teenage girls as they bundled into the train car across from you, but they didn’t say anything to you, didn’t ask you to reenact the most embarrassing five seconds of your entire life into their phones, as many often did. The box hid you from the rest of the train car, and no one else seemed to take interest in your presence.

After exiting the train at downtown, you made it to Shouto’s building in record time, all but rocket-fueled by your desire to get out of the hot sun. The security team in the lobby of his building gave you friendly nods as you passed, one of them graciously pressing the button for the elevator so you didn’t have to fumble around your box.

You thanked her, making your way into the elevator and elbowing the button for Shouto’s floor. The elevator was even cooler than the lobby, and you shivered in delight as the frigid chill of air conditioning washed over you. God, this building was so fucking nice compared to yours. You were going to be spoiled as fuck once you lived here.

You made it to Shouto’s floor without incident, though digging in your bag for your keys was impossible at the moment, so you knocked on his door as firmly as you could manage with the box still balanced in your arms.

There were a few seconds of silence. Then, the door swung open and Shouto stood there, grinning at you.

His hair still looked a little damp from a recent shower, and he was wearing a dark button up over a soft tee shirt and a pair of dark jeans. He looked unbearably good, as boyishly handsome as ever, and your heart gave an embarrassing little stutter, like it always did whenever you saw him. You suspected it was always going to be like that, no matter how long the two of you had been dating.

Shouto’s eyebrows went up as he considered the box in your arms. That heterochromatic gaze picked over you curiously, expression going carefully blank, like it typically did when he was up to some mischief. And then, after a long moment, he spoke.

“You’re not wearing the scarf,” he said, sounding upset.

You stared up at him, feeling your brow wrinkle. The scarf? It was fucking summer, and the scarf was neatly tucked away in the box you were holding. It was literally boiling hot just outside the well-air conditioned hallways of his building. Why on earth did he think you would be wearing--

You inhaled a little sharply when the answer hit you.

The scarf.

The scarf was the first thing he had mentioned the day he had finally confessed to you. Well, after you had confessed first, really, on national television earlier that week, that you were thirsty as hell for him and were also really bad at picking up subtle clues. Or overt clues. Or any clues, honestly.

But now you were standing in his hallway with a box again, and he was clearly remembering what had happened the last time you had done so.

You wracked your brain for what you had said to him in reply that day, trying to hone in on the words past the sudden swell of embarrassment.

“Uh, it’s in here,” you finally replied, gesturing to the box.

That grey and blue gaze dropped to the parcel in your arms, then flickered up to your face. You pushed the box at him, the way you had the day he’d confessed, feeling just as squirmish as you had then.

What else had you said to him? Something very watery and over dramatic, likely. Something like...

“It’s all, um, there--if you wanted to check,” you said. “Except for the vegetables obviously. But I can pay you back, if you give me a couple months.”

Shouto was clearly suppressing a smirk as he feigned curiosity. “Pay me….what?”

You suppressed your own absurd laugh, wondering how far down mortifying memory lane he wanted to go.

“I also wrote down a recommendation for a new cleaning lady, if you want,” you said, patting the top of the box. “It’s in there. Her name’s Mika, she’s super nice. And I can message you or your manager when I have the money. Just let me know which one you’d prefer. Or I can have Mika drop it off.”

Shouto gripped the box, then, long, elegant fingers pulling back the flaps for him to peer inside. He looked absolutely delighted to find the scarf actually within. In one fluid movement, he pulled the scarf out, depositing the box behind him, and turned back to grab your sleeve, pulling you quickly into the apartment with him.

“Okay, what are you doing with the scarf this time?” you laughed, breaking character.

One white eyebrow went up as Shouto gripped your wrist firmly, eyeing you closely as he pulled off your baseball cap.

“Mm,” he hummed absently in his deep tone. “Something I should have done the first time.” He caught your other wrist, pressing it into the sinfully soft fabric of your favorite accessory.

You looked at him, bewildered, feeling your mouth twist into a slight frown. You rather liked the way things had gone the first time around, considering that you had ended up with a boyfriend at the end of it all. What was his bone to pick with the first time around?

“Uh, if I’m recalling correctly, the first time went great,” you said to him. “Like, really really great. Christening your countertops several different times great.”

There was a flash of white teeth as Shouto grinned.

“Ah, but I missed an opportunity,” he said. A soft sensation slid over your other wrist, and you looked down in confusion.

Then it hit you what he was up to, and your face instantly went up in flames.

A firm tug had your wrists knotted together, and Shouto smirked down at you, tugging you closer by the silky fabric of your scarf. Your stomach swooped at the intent look in his eye.

“I had been upset you weren’t wearing the scarf,” he said. “But there was an easy way to fix that.”

You swallowed heavily, your tongue feeling strangely thick. Your brain was suddenly, but predictably, very very empty.

“Y-yeah. But technically you, um. You did fix it,” you babbled helplessly, limbs growing shivery with static as Shouto pressed closer. He was so warm, and he was so stupidly handsome.

“I’ve, uh, worn it a lot since,” you managed.

Shouto considered you quietly, a familiar, wry little smile pressing at the corner of his mouth.

Before you’d started dating, you’d been confused as hell by that expression, suspecting it meant he was bewildered by your very existence but was too polite to say so. After just over a year together, however, you had learned that was just what his face did when he thought you were being unreasonably appealing. Which, mystifyingly, was mostly when the working part of your brain disconnected from your mouth.

You scrounged around for other coherent words, thoughts thick and sluggish, like you were thinking through pudding.

Shouto, however, was merciful, putting an end to your suffering by leaning down and taking your mouth with his.

All the coherent thought you’d managed to dredge up melted away like frost under the morning sun. You pressed yourself closer to him, leaning up to give him better access to your mouth. Shouto kissed you as stupid as he always did before a hot hand came up to cup your face, thumb sliding over your cheek affectionately.

“It seems I’ve got you in the scarf as I had wanted,” Shouto said quietly, once he let you up for air. “But now I find that the scarf is all I want you in.”

You opened your mouth to respond, though what you might have said was as much a mystery to you as anyone. But all that managed to come out was a choked, breathy little noise.

Shouto laughed.

Then there were large hands on your waist, and the next thing you knew, you were staring down at the wood paneling of Shouto’s floor as it moved underneath you. Shouto adjusted you over his shoulder briefly, and then he was charting a brisk course to his bedroom, depositing you like an errant pillow back onto his sheets.

Your cheeks burned as he crawled over you, gaze hot and searching.

“Are you alright, love?” he asked.

You nodded vehemently, eyes pulled to the little flat sliver of his abs where his shirt had ridden up.

“Good, yeah, I’m so good,” you managed to garble out. You were going to be so embarrassed about this later, but as usual when it came to him, you really couldn’t help it. If you’d learned anything in the year you’d been together, it was that you would always have the world’s fattest crush on Shouto Todoroki.

Strong fingers came up to grasp your chin, tipping your face up for another searing kiss. You managed to loop your bound arms over the back of Shouto’s neck, tangling your fingers in his soft hair and pulling him down to you more firmly.

Shouto flattened himself against you, so that you could feel every strong plane of his body, every hard muscle. You shuddered, and you could feel Shouto smirk against your mouth.

“Like that, do you?” he asked, hands pulling at your shirt. You wiggled so that he could pull it out from under you, sliding it up to rest just below the scarf. In the next second he’d also gotten you out of your pants, so that you were mostly bare to him in the cool apartment air.

Shouto looked you over for a moment, looking like he still couldn’t believe you existed. “Having you over the countertops was something that I wouldn’t change. Something that I won’t change, once you move in.”

Your face went hot and you squirmed underneath him.

“However,” he said softly, “I believe I would have liked to have been more deliberate with you. Taken my time with you,” he paused. “Perhaps...I might have made you come once for every photo of me on your twitter.”

The tips of your ears went hot. Jesus Christ, he couldn’t be serious.

You had deleted that twitter over a year ago, and though he’d apparently been allowed access to the contents by his manager (rude) there was absolutely no way he could remember how many pictures of him you’d retweeted. You’d been the one doing the retweeting, and even you didn’t remember, though you thought the number was probably embarrassingly high.

“There was like, one,” you squeaked out.

Shouto’s smile went dark and he leaned over you, his perfect, infuriating mouth so close he might have kissed you again.

“Thirteen,” he said, mouth brushing yours as he spoke. “There were thirteen photos of me on your twitter. All while you tried so hard to act like you didn’t want me, that you wanted to be just friends.”

“Hey, you said you wanted to be my friend,” you protested. You jerked when his hand slid up your side to cup a breast, thumb slipping under the band of your bra.

“You weren’t accepting my gifts,” he said, fingers grazing your nipple. You bit down on an embarrassing noise, letting out a sharp breath. “How else was I to make you take them?”

You opened your mouth to respond but Shouto made another pass over your nipple, and a moan escaped you instead.

“That’s right, love,” he said encouragingly. “Now I’m going to make you give me something in return. Thirteen somethings, in fact.”

He peeled down the cup of your bra, fastening his hot mouth over your breast. You whined, twitching when he flattened his tongue, dragging it slowly over the point of your nipple. A strong arm came up to press your hands down over your head.

“Shouto, thirteen is insane,” you panted.

He paid you no mind, instead swirling his tongue in a way that made your vision blur.

A tugging at your wrists made you look up, in time to see Shouto one-handedly looping the long end of the scarf through the slats on his headboard and pulling tight. Your whole body clenched up at the implication.

The slide of fabric over your breasts told you that Shouto had also managed to get your bra up, and hot mouth closed over your other nipple, long fingers carefully plucking at the other. “We have all weekend, love. Thirteen is ambitious but quite possible.”

You made a weak noise of acknowledgement, hips shifting forward against his stomach.

Shouto laughed, hot breath ghosting over your breast, and then he was crawling down your torso, hands grasping your underwear. He pulled it down slowly, torturously, until he managed to get it off you, then pulled your knee over his shoulder.

You whimpered, feeling like you might actually pass out from how hot he looked, one thigh thrown carelessly over his shoulder, gaze intent, staring down at you like a starving man looking at a hot meal.

You squirmed, trying to pull your arms down to get your hands on him, but the scarf held fast, pulling more firmly over your wrists.

“Shouto, please,” you said, though whether you were begging for him to touch you or to let you go, even you didn’t know.

Shouto seemed to take it as permission. Those two-toned eyes passed over you hotly, and then he was leaning down, biting down gently on the inside of your thigh. You jerked violently, but he held you in place, mouth trailing slowly, slowly down to where you wanted him.

You thought you might actually black out before he got where he was going.

“I can’t believe I ever told you you were unwelcome in my apartment,” he murmured, sucking a slow bruise into the skin at the crease of your thigh. “Once you move in, I’m never going to let you leave it.”

“Oh my god,” you said.

Shouto’s tongue flicked out, catching the edge of your sex, and you tried not to choke on air.

Then, finally, he moved, fastening his mouth over you, exactly where you wanted him. All reason completely left you.

After that, everything was an unbearable flurry of feeling--a soft tongue swirling over you, the tickle of his bangs on your stomach, the press of broad shoulders between your knees. There was the rasp of his sheets between your shoulder blades, the slow, deliberate press of two fingers inside of you, a firm grip on your thigh, fingers digging in tightly.

You could feel every point of connection with him, every minute movement of his mouth over you, and the sensation built up into something so horribly, terribly good. You were unable to do anything but writhe and pant underneath him, babbling something that sounded like it might be an approximation of his name.

Shouto hummed and sucked softly, those long fingers curling inside you. He finally hit a spot that made you see stars, and you practically lifted off the bed, back bowing. Shouto licked you through it, tongue curling expertly around your clit while you sobbed out his name, only slowing when your body went slack, collapsing back into his sheets.

When you could see straight once more, you realized he was staring up at you, that wry smile curling the corner of his mouth again.

You fought down a blush, feeling an embarrassed grin pull at the corner of your own mouth.

“You’re unreal,” you said. “I can’t believe I’m going to get to have you all the time.”

Shouto pressed a short kiss to the skin of your hip. “You already have me all the time.”

You flapped a hand in its bindings. “You know what I mean. I can’t believe we’re going to live together.”

His fingers slid gently over the back of your thigh. “I’d have had you in here sooner, if you hadn’t insisted on graduating first.”

You laughed. He was always so very straightforward about whatever he wanted.

He had been making very unsubtle noises about living together only a few months into your relationship, but you’d insisted that you wait at least a year. He’d grown up with more conservative mores, having been raised a rich boy, and taking things quickly once he knew he was serious about you seemed to be the style of things. But you, despite your frankly unreasonable thirst for your own boyfriend, knew the value of taking things just a little bit slower.

So you’d waited a year, just to be prudent, though you’d known all along how things would end up.

And now he finally had his way.

“I’m all yours now,” you promised, laughing. “Soon you’ll be sick of me hogging the bed, and leaving books everywhere, and getting so blackout at the farmer’s market that we don’t have room for all the vegetables.”

“Ah, you’re using me for vegetable access,” he accused, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the smile he was attempting to smother into your thigh.

“A girl’s gotta have her priorities,” you grinned.

Something lit up in Shouto’s gaze again, and he shifted up against your thigh to lean over you more fully. His fingers gripped the back of your knee tightly.

“I'll make you pay for that,” he promised darkly. “Twelve more times.”

You shivered as he took your mouth again, fingers sliding back between your thighs with obvious intent.

And then you really did. You paid for it.

Twelve more times.

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #shouto todoroki #bnha fanfic #bnha #smut #fluff #bnha x reader

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tutuchlee · 4 years ago

Text

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Star Gazers

Author note: Hey guys! Here is the sk8 infinity fic I have been working on for anon !

I apologize for the wait, I was planning to have it done last night but 3 hours in I accidentally refreshed the page and lost my ENTIRE fic!

I also apologize if the writing quality is not it’s best— after losing the fic yesterday I found it hard to rewrite many parts and struggled with find my groove again. I’ve rewritten this about 4 times now and this was the best I managed to do.

I hope you all enjoy regardless, and I promise to do better in the future!

Summary: After finally coming to his senses, Reki makes up with Langa, only for Langa to give him a piece of his mind!

Word count: 2767

Warnings: Some swearing, tickles, this fic takes place at the end of ep 10, so SPOILERS for those who have not gotten that far

Ships: Reki x Langa

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Misery.

It was the only word that came to mind to describe the hell of a week Reki had gone through.

It wasn’t easy to come to terms with the skill difference between him and his friends, especially his boyfriend who had surpassed all of them in the timespan of a couple of months. On top of that-- getting beat up, hit by a car, then waking up in a random hotel room really put the cherry on top for the young skater.

The world felt as though it was completely against the young firecracker.

However, none of his injuries could compare to the heart aching pain he had to go through from pushing his boyfriend away.

Langa deserved none of this, for how could he? He was naturally talented in skating, and Reki should have been proud. He was his teacher after all--and usually a teacher wants their pupal to succeed, but for Reki, he just wished he could compare.

Langa no longer needed him.

He’d already taught himself far more tricks than Reki could have dreamed of and perfected each and every one of them. Meanwhile, Reki was falling behind, and drowning in his own sorrow.

Perhaps what upset him more was the fact he still wished to skate against Adam. Watching them the last time had set Reki off for quite some time, for how could it not? Adam touched Langa as if he owned him, and on top of that he was already calling the two of them Adam and Eve! Who even was this guy!

But even so, Reki knew his actions were wrong. Ignoring his boyfriend, yelling at him and even purposely avoiding him was definitely the receipt for the worse boyfriend award.

And of all places he had to realize this, it had to be upon waking up in the love hotel with some random guy. He had rushed home as soon as he could after giving a heart filled reply to the strange man who had asked him to quit skating, and realized his love for skating didn’t happen from being better from everyone, but from skating with those you love.

Which was how the two lovers ended up here; Reki sprawled out on his back with Langa taking a faceplant into his stomach at the skate park once used to teach snow his first ollie.

A groan escaped from Reki’s mouth as he slowly propped himself on his elbows, using one of his hands to rub the back of his head. “Langa..!” he whined, looking down at the snowflake that had yet to move, “Why didn’t you dodge me!” he asked with a subtle pout on his face.

Silence passed over the two with no response from the other. Instead, Reki noticed a slight quivering of his shoulders, and his panic quickly spiked. Disregarding his injuries, his attention was now on his boyfriend which he feared was injured.

“Langa!” he called out once more, moving his hand away from his head to gently nudge the others back.

That’s when he was met with those beautiful sky blue eyes, with none other than a huge grin plastered across his face as laughter spilled out. His anxiety soon melted away at the sight as his eyes lit up, taking in the sight of his Canadian boyfriend.

And eventually Langa’s laughter died down to a comforting silence as the two lovers gazed into each others eyes.

It was moments like these that Reki both loved and hated. He loved looking at his gorgeous boyfriend, basking in the affection he always gave off—but hated that he could not last more than five seconds without becoming a flustered mess.

His cheeks had blossomed into a crimson red as he quickly brought his arm up, draping it over his face as an attempt to shield himself from the other. And as he peeled his eyes away he glanced off into the distance, trying to give himself a chance to calm down.

“Did you hit your head or something..?” He asked, trying to break the awkward silence he had created.

However, for Langa, he adored Reki’s reaction each time, sometimes purposely doing things just to see his firecracker sizzle. It was not easy to tame the other, especially with his hyper personality, but he found that with a little affection he could get the other to soften down. So adorable.

So, as he looked up at the other, he was unable to hold back anymore. From the bottom of his heart, Langa began his barrage of compliments to the other, telling him how much he cherished him as a skater and a lover. Reki had taught him everything he knew-- and seeing him hate skating just because of it pained Langa more than he thought it would.

It had been everything Reki needed to hear and more, filling the void he had created of self-doubt. His words comforted him like a blanket, making his previous view on himself disappear as he continued to spill sweet nothings. It was all too much for poor Reki.

Langa knew Reki couldn’t handle compliments, and Reki mentally cursed at him for it as the crimson tint slowly crawled to the tips of his ears. Unable to take much more, Reki quickly put his hand out, stealing a glance at the pale face as he cut him off, “That’s enough! That’s really enough..!” he muttered sheepishly.

Curse you Langa.

But truly, the redhead felt at ease from his anxiety. And as he let out an embarrassed cry, he slowly fell back onto the concrete as Langa’s words circulated throughout his head, playing like a broken record.

Feeling satisfied, Langa slowly lowered his chin down atop Reki’s stomach again, pressing his cheek against him as he too laid with the other.

And as the silence continued, Reki’s thoughts only wandered, thinking about what his next step would be in terms of skating and making it up to Miya for breaking his trust. But—those thoughts were cut short when an electrifying jolt pulled him out of thought, causing an unattractive shriek to escape his lips as he immediately sat up, looking down at the culprit.

There Langa laid, burrowing the tip of his nose against the lining of skin exposed by his shirt, abusing the access by lightly peppering kisses along the soft tummy it showed. It felt as if there were butterflies battering their wings against his belly, sending shivers down his spine with each kiss.

“H-hey!” he screeched, his voice cracking as he squirmed beneath him, “Quit it, you know I can’t stand it when you do this!”

Did Langa know this? Perhaps. But would he stop now? No.

Those gorgeous blue eyes Reki loved so much slowly rose to meet his, a clear mischief behind them that he didn’t want to acknowledge. His arms slowly wrapped around his lovers torso, encasing him in a trap Reki with he’d seen sooner.

“Reki, I haven’t been able to hear your laugh in over a week. Don’t you think thats a little cruel?” He asked, a look of disappointment yet playfulness on his face.

This was it for little Reki. His instincts to run were starting to kick in, but as he squirmed below the other he realized now there was no way of getting out of this. Perhaps, plan B?

“L-Langa, wai-AIT!”

His voice cracked mid plead as two fingers found their way to his sides, jabbing into that practically sensitive spot just between his ribs and hips. His back snapped straight at the unexpected sensation, causing yet another yelp from the teen.

In a desperate attempt to stop the other, he reached down and grabbed his shirt, hoping to shut him out of the unfair advantage he had of his bare skin. However, that attempt was deemed a fail after he pulled the shirt over Langa’s head, trapping him and his devious intentions inside.

Unable to help a smirk from growing on his lips, the now trapped Langa pressed his cheek against the others stomach, rubbing it gracefully against his skin as if to show he was getting comfy. He let the other have a moment, peacefully laying there as his plan was going better than intended.

Reki, on the other hand, was a squirming mess. His mind was becoming discombobulated as he tried to figure out what the next move from the other was. But that was proven difficult since all he could feel was Langa’s breath, lightly dusting against the hairs lining his belly, making each one stand on end.

All he could do now was plea, hoping that his snowflake would have mercy on him. But alas, his words only went through one ear out the other, having no affect whatsoever on the situation.

With a light chuckle, the assault began.

The fingers glued to his sides began wiggling, digging out the laughter he patiently waited for. It took everything Reki had not to scream as he jolted from side to side, his voice cracking while he erupted with his shrieky laughter.

It truly was music to Langa’s ears. His head bounced against his quivering stomach, getting to feel and hear his laughter as it echoed all around the skatepark.

But was it greedy for him to want more?

As his fingers wiggled deviously into the curves of his sides, he decided to change it up. Without warning, his wiggling fingers came to a stop, and instead changing to something much more unbearable.

They gently pinched the others skin, making sure to get right into the grooves of his side to hit the spots he knew he couldn’t handle. He’d move up and down much as his wrist allowed him to, occasionally vibrating a particular spot that got a good reaction from the redhead.

To add onto that, those butterfly kisses soon returned across his stomach, turning him into a pile of mush as he laughed his head off.

Reki was always known for his loud and cracky tone of voice, and it truly showed through his laughter that changed in pitch every few seconds, cracking and screeching every time his sides would get drilled.

There was little to no hope of getting out of this, and no amount of shoving or pleads seemed to be working, so all he could do now was take it.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he slowly fell back in a heap of laughter, squirming beneath his boyfriend holding him hostage.

Anyone walking around might question what crime scene was taking place in the skate park, but to their luck no one came to check.

Instead he was left there to laugh his throat hoarse by his boyfriend who seemed to be enjoying this much more than he was.

For minutes on end, Langa would pinch and drill into his sides, occasionally spidering his finger nails across the bare skin to cause his poor redhead to twitch and cry out with laughter.

“L-LAHAnga!” he’d repeatedly screech, shaking his head from side to side to indicate he was done with the torment. But to his demise, Langa was buried beneath his shirt, showing no signs of stopping.

In some ways, this was Langa’s way of taking out his stress on the other for the past week. Did Reki really believe he wouldn’t be upset?

Hearing him laugh now made up for all the times his heart shattered at the sight of his usual happy and cheerful boyfriend unable to even shed a smile. Seeing that there were no screams for him to stop, he only assumed his boyfriend was enjoying it too.

So as he happily continued his assault, the kisses he’d been leaving around the open canvas came to a halt.

Instead, he moved himself into position just below the others naval and took a deep breath, grinning as he slowly moved down to press his lips against the skin, blowing as much air as possible to create that loud ‘PFTT’ noise Reki once used on him.

That's where his firecracker exploded, screaming out with laughter as he kicked his legs out, arching his back as his skin rippled below his lips. The vibration carried from his stomach and traveled up his body, causing almost a tsunami of ticklish sensations to follow.

“LAHAHANGAAAHA!”

Holy shit-- it tickled to the point Reki thought he might die.

Tears of mirth collected in the corners of his eyes before spilling over as Langa decided to leave tiny raspberries around his naval, causing the poor redhead to completely lose himself.

It was unbearable.

At this point his laughter was beginning to grow silent since the onslaught of baby raspberries weren’t stopping, and Langa’s hands were still torturing his sides with pinches.

Geez, where the hell did he even learn how to tickle like this!

“L-LangHA! I-I...I cahahan’t take it!” he managed to wheeze out between his screechy laughter, smacking his leg against the ground to show he was k.o’d. He started to desperately claw at the back of Langa’s shirt, trying with all the energy he had left to pull him away.

His bladder wouldn’t be able to take much more of this, and at this rate he’d definitely lose his voice!

But to his relief, the attack began to slow. There was one final raspberry on the dead center of his naval that resulted in a snort from the redhead, adding yet another embarrassing noise to his index of screeches, but thankfully that marked the end to his attack.

The fingers that were torturing every inch of his sides slowed as well, but never retracted. Instead, Langa decided to give him a little treat, and instead gave him the light tickles he knew Reki loved.

With the tips of his finger nails, he barely brushed them against his skin, hardly making contact as he dusted them across his sides.

Reki, whom was now a sweaty pile of mush on the ground, panted heavily as the other let up on his tickle attack. After giggles were all that remained, and upon trying to calm down he could feel Langa giving him his specialty.

The tickles that made his skin crawl, but also calm him to the point of sleep.

He loved them, and so did Langa. They were usually used during their cuddle sessions to calm the firecracker who couldn’t seem to sit still, and upon the discovery Langa used them whenever he could.

So as he laid there catching his breath, he felt the spidery tickles calming his tickled mind. They skittered up his sides, dragging back down just to do it again. As if he wasn’t exhausted already, they brought the extra wave of comfort and sleep with them.

Langa knew what he was doing. He planned on taking the tired out skater back to his place so they could sleep together. His sheets were no longer stained with the sweet scent of the other, and usually it took a lot of convincing to get Reki to agree to sleep over due to his constant state of being flustered.

So as he as treated Reki to his favorite ghost tickles, he slowly popped his head out from the cave that was Reki’s shirt, flashing him a soft smile despite his hair being disheveled from the static.

Feeling the other finally arise from the cave he’d created beneath his shirt, he opened his eyes slightly to glance down at him, still a flustered mess with a hint of sweat lining his forehead.

“You...you’re cruel.” he wheezed, bringing his arms up in defeat.

Langa only grinned, looking down at the exposed torso Reki had left him, which he knew was 100% intentional even if Reki refused to admit to it.

“I love you, Reki.” Was his reply as he finally untangled his arms from around the others waist, instead moving them under his shirt to lightly spider all around his sweet belly, dusting the baby hairs all around the soft skin.

He even drew a faint heart as Reki visibly pouted, clearly trying to ignore the fluttering tickles despite Langa knowing how much he craved them.

With a huff, Reki eventually looked down at him, unable to hold back the smile that he was forcing out of him. And as he looked at his snowflake, he realized now how lucky he was to have a boyfriend like Langa.

And with that, he sat up, reaching down to cup his boyfriends cheeks as he drew him in, pressing a soft kiss to those lips he was proud to call his, pulling away moments after with a tired grin.

“I love you too, Langa.”

#langa x reki #sk8 renga #sk8 infinity #reki #langa #tickle fic #tickles #tickling

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dayseternal-blog · 3 years ago

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Summary: Hinata gives Naruto candy on Valentine’s, and he develops a crush early-on. An Alpha/Omega fic.

Pairing: Hyuuga Hinata/Uzumaki Naruto

Written for @naruto-smut-monday 2021 - February Prompt: Sweet as Candy / Love Bites.

(This is many months late, so I carry no expectations for the event moderators to reblog this 😓)

Rated E for really explicit, kinky smut!

Sweet and rich.

Her usual milkiness pitching lower and bolder.

The familiar scent of her heat fills his lungs with each gasp against her lips, tugging at his heart, enticing each shove of himself into her soft folds.

She breaks the kiss with a tortured moan that rolls through his heightened, rutting senses. Her face turns, exposing the broken, shining gland at her neck once more.

His mark still looks fresh from their aggressive first round. He had awoken from their fitful rest with Hinata eagerly sucking him off in the dead of the night. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon when they finally fell back asleep in cuddling, knotted exhaustion.

His tongue catches the liquid caramel at her gland, just as sweet as her scent, and gently, he gnaws into her sensitive neck to release more for him to drink as she squeals, slick flowing around his swelling piece, nudging deeper and deeper.

“Hinata…” Clawing pleasure skips along his skin, shimmering in his veins with each suck against the abused claim.

“Ah...Alpha...”

He doesn’t need her breathy Omega voice to encourage him, not when her snug passage is readily opening up to accommodate his urgent thrusts, his hands gripping her flared hips still as he impales her hurriedly until she’s wrapped entirely around his knot, stuck and breathlessly screaming for him. “You wanted this again, yeah?”

She nods enthusiastically, the bob of her chin frantic like the shake of her large breasts. Tears of pain and pleasure glint along her dark lashes and pink cheeks, her little tongue teases him as she gasps from puffy lips, tracks of his saliva and her leaking scent gland glimmer in the mid-morning sun. His usually proper and demure wife is a beautiful mess on his rigid cock, soaking wet for him, the excellent sight filling his inner, lusting beast with possessive pride.

“Look at you,” he groans, slipping mindlessly into his secondary gender, “my pretty Omega, living for my knotted dick, acting all cute for my cum.”

She wiggles beneath him with an affectionate gasp, and he’s grinding hard into her until her glassy eyes squeeze shut, more tears escaping.

He leans down to lick each one up, the saltiness making him grab at the top of her head to turn her intoxicating gland toward him so that he can drink her in, her heady, rich taste invading his senses.

She squirms beneath him.

Her legs squeeze at his waist.

Blunt fingernails pinch into his back.

Tight nipples push into his chest and smooth stomach arches into him.

Plush flesh clenches around his knot, coaxing his release. Her hot breath ghosts over his bicep, prickling his skin with a begging, “Please, please, please-”

And he’s coming before he can even consider holding back, throbbing into her humidity, smearing his own broken gland against her lips until she’s sucking everything out of him, his whole body and soul yearning, pulsing into her welcoming, soft comfort. Take all of me.

For only a blissful second, his mind feels empty, his Alpha terribly pleased and sated.

She paints a small strip with her tongue at his gland, and the beast reawakens.

He’s fucking his cum into her, stirring into her weeping flesh, his knot plugging her up so that she’s awfully sloppy around his dick, a rumbling in his chest as she clings to him, her face buried in his neck, her warm tongue still licking cutely at him. “Hinata, you need more, don’t you?”

“Naruto-kun,” she sighs, “mhmm…”

So this is what it’s like to share their heat and rut, their tempos finally coinciding after their first bonded year.

He’d imagined it was never-ending sex, the idea both arousing and concerning, but experiencing it leaves him trembling with honest delight and, more than anything else, sincere love. Of course, it’s an overwhelming desire to impregnate her, to make her whole body and life undeniably his, something that’s normal in his rut anyway, but with her very much unprotected body so willing and ready, so much slick to ease his knot into her over and over again without worry, it’s as if every part of them is shared, synced and in tune, eager to please and enjoy each other.

He can’t even begin to consider separating himself from her at the end of these five or so days, can’t at all recall what his daily life is like outside of their home.

Not when her hazy eyes are lowered in an expression of come-hither lust, all hints of his usual shy, reserved wife forgotten with his stiff piece warm and wet, pushing against her cervix. Her fingers dance over his arm muscles, massaging over the back of his shoulders, and tunneling into his hair.

He nudges his face into her neck, inhaling her scent deeply as new attraction rushes fast and hard into his knot, as if he hadn’t been excited the whole time.

“Fill me up, my love,” she whispers, her moist clit sliding at his groin, and that voice intones, breathier and lower, “my sweet Alpha.”

Shivers run up his spine, his hips straining at her more insistently, tight flesh tugging at his knot as he tries to ram himself deeper into her. Memories of his thick seed dribbling down her thighs from past ruts morph into images of her stomach swollen with their child. They’ve prepared for this week for a couple of months now after their last rut and heat nearly overlapped, only for one incredible day that convinced both of them they needed more in their marriage. After the nine day ordeal of caring for each other's needs, they had visited their doctors, Hinata had taken out her birth control, and then they had reviewed tips on self- and partner-care for acclimated bonds.

All their preparation is flying out the window of his mind now.

They’re supposed to clean up after this? The wet wipes seem completely unnecessary, and he lets her know he has no intention of using them. “Gonna cover you in my scent, no other Alpha will even dare to look at you.”

She nods, a lovely, dazed smile curling her kiss-swollen lips. Soft, agreeing moans soothe the aggression simmering low in his gut, turning his lust into appreciative hunger.

They’re supposed to eat that microwavable shit? Isn’t Hinata’s body enough for him? His hands sink into her fluffy tits, squeezing and playing, whetting his appetite with her delicious curves. And isn’t he enough? “Only going to feed you my knot, keep you full of cum. You can eat my hard dick whenever you want.”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes...” Adoring, pearly eyes gaze up at him even through her tortured gasps.

He smashes her into the bed, one hand clutching her round ass desperately as the other tangles into her hair. Her needy kisses are just as much tongue as his, their lips sucking on each other avidly.

Ecstasy slides through his veins, blooming over his mind, cocooning him in pleasant sensations, cum shooting out in eager twitches against hot, milking flesh.

He’s left panting into the pillow, the material doing little to stop her rich smell of satisfaction from drawing him back to lick at the abused flesh of his claim on her, her body shivering uncontrollably and enticingly beneath him, teasing his body and mind with the taste of her sweet, sweet dew.

Everything about her has always been sweet to him.

From her scent to her smile, her kiss, and her touch. The glow in her eyes, just for him, to her intimate voice.

The way she always tries to understand him and is there to support him.

He’s wondered if they were made for each other, the strength of their connection at times so overwhelming that he could cry.

They were taught in school that mating isn’t decided, not like some spiritual concept of soulmates, but that potential bonded relationships are cultivated carefully over time.

However, significant inclinations may form from way before either party presents.

He thinks he’s been inclined to her from the moment she handed him, a random elementary schoolmate in the hallway, not even in the same class as her, one of her extra giri chocolates on Valentine’s Day. She handed a couple of other boys she passed on the way an extra chocolate, too, but he didn’t care. He crushed on her fast and easily, his heart swayed by nearly any kind gesture from a girl. Having one more chocolate than his friends was something he bragged about right away in pretend nonchalance, saying that a girl from another class gave it especially to him.

His fleeting feelings might have ended there if he weren’t in her class the following year, if she hadn’t handed out giri chocolates again, if she hadn’t noticeably blushed pink and whispered, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Naruto-kun,” or if he hadn’t found out his little baggie of chocolates had one more heart-shaped piece than Sasuke’s baggie…it was a small win compared to all the unappreciated honmei chocolates Sasuke received, but Naruto took what he could get.

Maybe his little school crush would have ended there if she had stopped handing out giri chocolates to boys in intermediate school, the way most girls did when they started presenting, when she wore her skirt as long as was acceptable by school dress code, sweaters over her button-down uniform, and simple blue ribboned chokers to cover as much skin as possible, when the mystery of her designation tickled the back of his mind whenever she was near, but he had no way of knowing, especially with their sex education steering hard by-the-book on disease, protection, and, most of all, consent, rather than humoring their curiosities about individual designations and tell-tale personality traits.

He and the boys in their class still got giri chocolates from her despite how so many of them acted like annoying idiots, and he knew he wasn’t the only one who liked that thoughtful sweetness about her. He also knew he was the only one who had one more chocolate than the others, or, at least, one more than Kiba.

“Let me see,” he’d say mid-grab, stealing the bag from Kiba’s hand.

“What the fuck, why are you always trying to take mine, you have your own!”

His eyes strained to swiftly count the number of adorable handmade, heart-shaped chocolates through the dark purple plastic, her level of effort making even giri chocolates feel incredibly special. 5.

“They’re all the same every year, fucktard.” Kiba snatched it away. “But you better not have broken any.”

His bag, for the third year in a row, had 6, and his cheeks flushed with wonder, a self-satisfied grin breaking out. “I was just checking. It really is the same every year. Isn’t it great?” He popped a chocolate in his mouth, pushing back the overly gleeful thought that it could all mean something more than a coincidental mistake.

Their third, last year of intermediate school, he expected it. A bag of six chocolates, just for him. And with only her characteristic small, shy smile, she handed him his gift, and he grinned hugely to cover up his nerves. “Thanks, Hinata!”

She bowed her head and hurried to the next boy in the room.

And he counted. 6. His gaze flickered up to her back, wondering, the seed of his suspicions sprouting awfully strong. What if these chocolates are actually honmei? She’s just too shy-

His bag was ripped from his grip.

He whipped around, eyes wide, staring up at Kiba’s exuberant smile.

“I gotcha first this time!”

“Kiba!” he shouted, his arm swinging up, but Kiba pulled it back just in time. Scenarios flew through his mind, all of him humiliatingly chasing his friend around the classroom for a little bag of giri chocolates, and Naruto quickly decided to play it cool. “Give it back, man.”

Kiba ignored him, making an elaborate show of scrutinizing the bag. “I was just checking-ttebayo,” he mocked when he did a double-take. “Whaaat, you got 6?! That’s not fair!” He checked his own bag. “I only have 5!”

His heart stopped. His gaze flashed to Hinata.

She was staring at them.

Panicking, he turned away. “...Really?! Cool!” he spit out in feigned surprise. “Maybe she just doesn’t like you as much! Give it back before you break one.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. How could she like you more than me?” Kiba tossed the bag at him, and Naruto grabbed it harder than he should have, the chocolates knocking together in his stressed hand.

Blood rushed hot through his system, but he was desperately trying to appear unaffected. “You probably smell like dog!”

Kiba clicked his tongue at that, then looked directly at the girl in question. “Hinata, do I smell like dog??!”

Naruto hesitated to look at her, but when he finally did, she was already falling to the floor.

The blame ultimately fell on Kiba for her fainting incident, since he asked such an obtrusive question like that, but somehow, Naruto couldn’t help but think it to be his fault, that he had failed some kind of test, messed up a secret game, and couldn’t protect something special that was only meant for him to know.

Wondering attraction maybe could have ended there, at the start of high school, when gossip about Sakura, pretty and sassy spitfire of a girl, and her rumored, unexpected Omega designation ran rampant around their grade level. The idea that someone so fiery and untouchable could be secretly emotional and clingy attracted many of the boys who were starting to show symptoms of presenting, such as starting to differentiate the scents of the girls in the class.

Though Naruto himself couldn’t smell anything from anyone, that didn’t stop him from imagining the athletic, rosy-haired girl, wondering what about her smell made her so desirable to some of the presenting boys… Whenever she was near, he focused his senses as much as he could, but nothing.

Hinata didn’t pass out giri chocolates that year to his great disappointment.

He shrugged it off, understanding that it’s seen by most as a childish or seemingly flirtatious tradition, that Kiba’s noisiness last year made her change her mind, that maybe his extra chocolate was a mistake of coincidence the last four years. He’d rather jump off the second-floor window than ask her if there was any meaning to it, so he decided to pay no mind to it, and he would have, but…

When she smelled like chocolate, sweet like a candy store, the next day, and he thought maybe she was a day late. Maybe she was still passing out chocolates to everyone, even though he couldn’t see any large bag, making him wonder if she had stuffed her sweater pockets and clothes full of chocolate. His temperature ran high, adrenaline racing through his heart whenever she walked even slightly in his direction, hoping for something from her that never came, and for days after, he was glaringly upset at how she definitely made chocolate, a whole lot of chocolate, and didn’t give him any.

Two months later, he began to understand that she just smelled like that, like she dumped chocolate perfume on her clothes, and some days just a dab, but either way it clouded his mind and made his stomach flip-flop anxiously, made him feel impatient and antsy beneath his skin, and he couldn’t take his irrational frustration anymore.

“Hinata, why do you always smell like that?” His tone was much more accusing than he meant it to be, but it was too late.

She was frozen a few paces between his desk and Ino’s, her angelically light eyes wide, her fair skin tinting pink as she looked back at him, and that chocolate smell amplifying with a strange tinge of citrusy unknowns. “...Huh?”

His face scrunched up in equal confusion at her seemingly innocent ignorance. “I don’t know, like, you smell really swee-”

Realization struck him hard before Sakura’s fist to the back of his head. “Naruto! What the hell do you think you’re asking her!”

“Ah fuck!” He clasped the back of his head and bowed on his desk in pain, partially to shield from any more hits, partially to hide his beet-red face.

Ino and Sakura were yelling at him, calling him a pervert and that they should report him, but his mind zeroed in on Hinata’s soft voice, asking him if he was okay, saying that she was completely fine, that it’s really okay and that she wasn’t going to report him.

His heart was pumping rapidfire, embarrassed heat crawling like a poison through his veins until he could swear he was hot to the touch, even the tips of his ears felt like they were burning, and he tried to hunch his shoulders to hide it.

He had been scenting her.

Everyday for the past two months.

Focusing on hers alone as if she was the only girl in the room.

Yet he hadn’t realized it at all.

If his feelings could have changed after that, it would’ve taken a whole lot of rejection on her end. She easily consumed his thoughts even when he didn’t want to think about her. Even when he actively tried to find someone else’s scent to enjoy, like Ino’s spring and fresh floral or Sakura’s berry and soda pop, but he ended up forgetting them with her near, ended up fazing into some kind of sparkling clarity, fuzzy around the edges yet Hinata in the center of it all, his eyes settling onto the wide ribbon peeking over her uniform’s collar as he sat at the back of the classroom and her in the front.

He noticed every time she fidgeted with the ribbon, he noticed how her scent strengthened into something darker and exciting on various occasions, but then how she’d be gone from school for days at a time, just like some of the other matured girls and boys. Her extended absence after such impactful scents left him utterly bored and empty at school.

Then at home, he couldn’t contain his imagination, recalling her coloring scent, her fingers pressing over the choker at her hidden gland. What might she be doing right now? Maybe at this very moment, she was comforting herself in a nest of pillows and blankets, using toys to mimic his penetration, maybe calling his name as she writhed in heat before passing out with an exhausted afterglow…?

The last Sports Festival of their high school careers saw lots of students pairing up. The adrenaline rush of the special competitions fueled love confessions every day up until the last moments of the final afternoon. He longed for a confession.

His eyes kept sliding toward her.

Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail throughout most of the festival, her simple white sports shirt and standard black shorts revealing her arms, legs, and the shape of her body.

Undeniably, he liked her. Despite not knowing either of their designations, despite rarely talking to her, he couldn’t stop admiring her perfection, his eyes capturing as much as he could commit to memory before he had to look away, so as not to stare.

But sometimes he wouldn’t look away fast enough, their eyes would awkwardly meet, and she’d blush and look away first. He’d focus determinedly somewhere else, yet inwardly, just as he always had, he’d wonder if there was any meaning in her looks, or if it was just coincidence, if those extra chocolates from their childhood were just coincidence, if he was just leading himself on in a sick and doomed game that he imagined all by himself.

He never got a confession.

But it seemed like Hinata did.

A snowy-haired boy from another class kept visiting her during breaks, talking to her from the sliding window between the hallway and the classroom, leaning over the sill to smile at her, obviously basking in her directed attention and the way she familiarly called him, “Toneri-kun.”

Silently jealous, all he could do was watch and listen, pretend to pay attention to the people around him and not his crush getting stolen away by some guy he could’ve sworn he had never seen before.

Three tedious weeks later, Toneri got bold and invited her out during lunch. As soon as she left the room, he stood up and followed after them, not even knowing exactly why he needed to dig his wound any deeper, only that he had to witness this himself, confirm the status of their relationship himself, otherwise he’d drive himself crazy in the classroom with speculation.

It was easy to follow from a distance. Her scent had long since invaded his memory. So what struck him first was the slightly sour notes marring her sweetness, kind of like before a class oral presentation.

She was anxious.

They stopped behind a school building, and he leaned against the wall around the corner, straining to hear their conversation.

“...Toneri-kun?”

Hinata’s voice was easy for him to pick up, and he didn’t question this realization, it was just further proof to him of his doomed infatuation.

“...I’m sorry, I tried,” she murmured.

Naruto assumed the pauses were when Toneri spoke, but they were all indistinct tones.

“I, I just don’t think...I can see you that way...I’m sorry...”

Everything in him began relaxing, the awful clenching around his heart suddenly released, and he collapsed to the ground in a crouch, not even actively trying to listen anymore.

“Because I...I like someone.”

His eyes shot open, adrenaline rushing at her words, and only one question ringing in his mind, Who?!

“I, I’m sorry, I can’t tell you that.”

Silence followed, and he started to back away, not wanting to get caught eavesdropping on what obviously was a sound rejection.

“Toneri-kun?...No, I, I, no-!” The panic was unmistakable, her sweetness drastically souring, and he was back at the corner, straining to understand what could possibly be going on now.

A whispered “Naruto-kun-”,

And he was around the corner running, shock exploding at seeing Toneri bent too close to her, nose at her neck, Hinata backed against the building wall. His body slammed into Toneri hard enough to make him fall to the ground.

“Hinata!” He looked at her, checking to see that her ribbon was still secure, that she appeared unharmed, but he felt like he was going to suffocate, air not making it past his throat, a building panic and disgust roaring loudly in his core that had him turning back around to direct this somewhere, his excessive anger pinpointing Toneri, red coloring his vision too fast for him to comprehend the confused expression on the splayed boy.

He jumped on him, his fist connecting with Toneri’s face fast and hard, the knock of his white head against the ground deeply satisfying his suddenly justified instincts, and he raised his fist again to drive his point home when his arm caught midair.

He tried to yank his arm free, but the unidentified grip only proved tighter, so he raised his non-dominant hand into a fist, ready to pound into this challenger who dared to scent and claim his chosen one.

Weight pushed into his chest, light eyes taking up his whole vision. “Naruto-kun! Stop!”

The cacophony in his mind silenced. A voice within responded viscerally, Omega.

“Naruto-kun.” Milky sweetness suddenly flooded him, beating back the flames within. Her head ducked into his chest as she clung to him. “I’m okay, I’m really okay, you need to stop, you hurt him!”

He blinked, suddenly outside of himself. He looked down to see Toneri shielding his face with his arms.

He stood immediately, clutching Hinata into his chest, and he backed away. Not knowing what to do or say, he wrapped his other arm around Hinata’s shoulders, turning them around, rushing them far from his crime.

He hovered near Hinata throughout the rest of the lunch break, soaking in her sweet scent, alternately trying to forget or make sense of his loss of control.

He didn’t have to wonder for long.

Toneri’s injury didn’t go unnoticed, and he was called into the Principal’s Office. Hinata was called in to confirm his side of the story, and then Naruto was sent to the counselor’s office.

He had been apparently so aggravated by the emotional incident that, for the first time and unknowingly, he had called on his inner Alpha into officially presenting. But his actions were still inexcusable by school rules.

Both he and Toneri were suspended for two weeks.

The school went wild over the drama. Even when he returned, whispered rumors of a “fight for dominance” and “claiming rights” circulated, and he couldn’t even think of approaching Hinata with such scandalous gossip surrounding them.

But sometimes, she’d tuck her hair back, or sweep the midnight strands over her shoulder, wide ribbon peeking over her shirt’s collar, wrapping her graceful, white neck in his view, then she’d look back at him, their gazes connecting for an exhilarating instant.

He didn’t need words or a confession. From her beckoning sweet scent to her affectionate looks, from the memory of her whispering his name for help and her Omega voice calling out to his Alpha, he knew that she returned his feelings, that she was just as aware of him sitting around the corner as he was aware of her during that incident...that there was a high chance for them to start a relationship.

After they graduated.

But a long wait kindled a passionate love.

In the first year of their relationship in university, they were careful to follow the recommendations, clumsily having their first-times near the end of her heat, when she’d be conscious enough to make decisions, yet physically capable to accept any loss of control on his end. She wanted to spend his first rut with him, too, but he decided against it, not knowing what might happen.

It was lonely. He had never loathed a past decision so much before in his life. No matter that he took over-the-counter suppressants to calm his Alpha’s tendencies, like keeping his knot from forming or hammering down the aggressive urge to bite into soft skin, his mind kept wandering to her, his fingers tapping into her social media for pictures of her that inevitably had him working himself into a sleeve or humping his pillows and blankets, every moment compounding frustration and dissatisfaction in a never-ending cycle, until he was phone calling her, “Just to hear your voice.”

“Oh, Naruto-kun...I miss you, too. Are you okay?”

He was already achingly stiff, his own developed gland at his neck pulsing needfully, his Alpha aroused as if blinking suddenly awake, then thrashing to be with her. “Mm, yeah.”

“The medicine is okay?”

He tugged on his member, his eyes closing.

“...Naruto-kun?”

He pumped himself, settling into a rhythm. “...Yeah?”

“...Are you okay?” she repeated with more hesitation, more concern.

A harsh breath left his mouth. “No, yeah, I just needed to hear you, Hinata,” he managed to breathe out.

“I, I missed your voice, too.”

He worked himself in his hand, imagining her whispers at his ear instead of his phone. “I miss you. I need you. I need you, Hinata.”

“I wish I could help you.”

He shortly moaned. “Yeah. I can’t stop thinking about you.” His train of thought quickly devolved into memories of her last heat from there, his control on his mouth snapping. “Can’t stop thinking about your body, how I’d…” He groaned. “I’d fuck you so hard, Hinata-”

“Yes,” she breathed.

Shivers ran through him. “You’d like that, right? My hard cock driving into your dripping pussy-”

“Oh, Naruto-kun...yes…”

Blearily, he grabbed an already used sleeve, and began thrusting into it with earnest. “You’d be so hot and slick, just gripping me so tightly-”

“Naruto-kun!” Her voice pitched breathily.

“Fuck. Hinata. That’s it...”

She moaned, the hungry sound making him grind himself into the tool.

“Are you touching yourself?” he asked, trying to imagine her lewd facial expressions.

“...Yes…”

He sighed in desire and frustration, working his hips, grunting and groaning. “...Hinata…”

“Naruto-kun…”

“You’re so soft…”

“Mm…you’re..so...mm...so big...”

Eyes closed, he lay down on his bed, and a picture of her sinking down on him, riding him, ran vividly through his mind.

“You’re so hard…” Her sultry voice slipped around his mind like a drug, carrying him straight to the brink.

“I’m going to fill you up with my cum, over and over again.”

“Oh...please...yes…”

“Paint your insides with my seed…” His mind faded as she breathed his name, a sound that toppled him over the edge. He convulsed into the sleeve, pumping his hips wildly, the agony of his orgasm ripping him out of his fantasy.

When his eyes opened again, he was staring at the ceiling, utterly alone. The imagined warmth of her body just the still air of his dorm room.

Her breaths came through the phone as his mind cleared, and he roughly apologized, “Sorry.”

“...Hm? Oh..no, Naruto-kun, it’s, it’s okay, I understand.”

He rested, the exhaustion of his hours of lust suddenly hitting him.

“...Do you want me to come over?”

This short reprieve of his rut had him second-guessing. He knew that once the next wave hit, he’d want her in-person. “I don’t know, maybe, if you want…only if you want.”

“I’ll be there soon, Naruto-kun.”

She let him indulge himself between her own classes, rushing straight to him for a quickie before heading off to her next class, her womanhood and pad-lined panty sticky with the potent seed of his rut.

Numerous times that week, he wished he weren’t on medication so that he could knot her and force her to stay with him until he deflated, even if that meant she’d miss her class.

So when summer break coincided with his second rut, they talked about forgoing the medication. He wonders if he should have known better, but of course, he couldn’t control himself. He knotted her right away, and in his haze of animalistic lust and at the brink of orgasm, his teeth tore off her ribbon from her swollen, pink gland even though he had known it wasn’t the right time. Her hand slapped to her neck right before he could mark her, and he ended up biting her fingers as he came.

It was awful, but she forgave him.

Close calls in their feverish, hormonal lovemaking forced both of them to start wearing locked collars on their glands with the keys in another locked cabinet. It would be too much trouble to retrieve the keys in the throes of passion. She had initially tried simple belted collars, thinking she’d be too foggy to deal with the buckle, but she herself would desperately remove them during the height of her heat while he pounded her into a puddle.

“Please,...Alpha,...claim me,” she breathed, stretching her neck so that he could see her bare, perfectly unscarred, and puffy scent gland.

It took everything in him to shut his eyes, while his inner Alpha raged with desire.

When she realized he couldn’t be enticed, the incident of chomping her fingers still weighing on him, she tried a different tactic. Her teeth picked at his collar, her breath tantalizingly hot on him, her tongue licking at the exposed edges of his equally swollen gland, his heart thudding in his chest for their bond to be finalized.

If she ever bit him, even just a little, he knew he’d claim her in a heartbeat.

But she somehow held herself back every time, only teasing him with her lips and tongue, or the lightest graze of her teeth around where he desperately wanted her to bite down. Then she’d beg for his cum, whispering dirty words he’d never imagine could leave his quiet girlfriend’s lips.

By some way or another, they managed throughout university. He knew their parents would kill them if they bonded too soon, but after proposing to her in their final year, job-hunting, and graduation, he found less and less reasons to hold back.

He didn’t plan on marrying anyone else, and he knew Hinata didn’t plan on it, either. So why weren’t they mated, yet? Would their parents really be angry at them? Technically, they were both working adults now, even if he had only just received his first paycheck.

Her intoxicatingly rich scent enveloped him, like the protective nest of blankets and pillows she’d neatly piled and encircled around them. Her organized nest popped with distinct orange and black from his jackets and shirts, used as pillow cases to scent the entire bed if he steps away for a moment. He himself couldn’t smell the ocean air of his scent that apparently soothes her. Yet she curled into him, trembling and feverish with the onslaught of her fast-approaching heat, breathing in as deeply as she could at his shoulder.

He blinked slowly, the fog of her pheromones sending him through a buzzed state. Was it his imagination, or were her heats getting denser over time, more tantalizing and sensual? Blood was rushing low, desire accumulating slowly yet surely in his core with a certain, particular heaviness growing in his sack with the lovely, familiar scent of her heat. His body was preparing to emulate a rut, readying to knot her, claim her, mate her. The beast within paced itself. His senses felt heightened in awareness of every shiver against his skin, of each puff of her breath, anticipating anything she might need of him, waiting to prove himself worthy.

She squeezed him, soft whimpers spilling from her lips as she rubbed her sensitive breasts into his side. Her nightgown was a thin little piece, meant to provide her some semblance of modesty and keep her cool, but it made little difference to him. Her soft thigh smoothed over his legs, her knee bumping into his erection.

Just that small stimulation had him breathing her in deeply, his eyes rolling back for a second, his heart jumping with lust. He could tell she was almost there, almost ready to succumb to her nature. He knew each of her signs, how she would call for him so wantonly when it was time, how her body would move enticingly, how her slick would sluice down her legs uncontrollably.

He knew her better than he knew himself. Each facial expression, each mood, each routine, each peculiarity and detail.

He felt like he knew everything there was to know of his fiancée, and it intrigued him, frustrated him endlessly to know that there was actually still so much more for him to learn.

Turning his head, he pressed kisses into her hair and let his eyes roam down the dips and swells of her form. “...I want to bond with you, Hinata.”

“But..we’re...not married..yet,” she breathily whispered, still clinging onto her consciousness before her Omega drove her instincts.

“I feel like we’re already married.”

“We...don’t technically...live together...yet.”

“I feel like we’re already bonded.”

“Mmm...we’re not..though.”

“You don’t want to bond?” he asked more pointedly.

“You know I do,” she answered immediately.

“Then why not now?”

“Because…” Her voice died there. She lifted herself up marginally, the effort apparently taxing, heat-glazing eyes barely meeting his own gaze, and he pulled her onto him for a steamy kiss. Her tongue played with and yielded to him, letting him taste her helpless moans until they needed to breathe. Panting, she murmured, “Can we?...bond now...?” Her hand trailed over his bare chest, reaching for his locked collar.

“I love you, Hinata, and I can’t find any reasons to wait anymore.”

She wiggled on him, her lips rocking hotly against his own. “I...love you..too..Naruto-kun… Please, claim...me….tonight.”

He removed himself from her side to get the keys, making sure to soothe her worries about where he was going, then he unlocked his own collar. His gland, swelling in response to her darkening scent, almost felt like it had a heartbeat of its own.

She lay back obediently as soon as he reappeared, and he moved over her as she turned her chin up, letting him unlock her own collar, and he tossed the leather to the ground unceremoniously.

His gaze lingered on her gland, swollen pretty and pink, delicate skin waiting to be broken. He could bite her right now if he wanted to. “Do you want to wait for your heat to come?”

She shook her head. “I...can’t...wait...”

Nodding, he removed his boxers as she threw her nightgown off and rolled down her soaked panties, a heavy string of slick stretching with it.

His breath grew labored as he kneeled between her creamy legs, positioned his dick at her glistening center, and quickly sunk into her marvelous warmth, penetrating her silky folds deeply. “I love you, Hinata.”

“I...love...you...Naru..to-kun…” Her breaths pushed out with his long thrusts, more slick sliding out of her and covering his pelvis. Her sweet scent was much stronger now, piercing his senses into a mindless devotion as he worked his stiff cock into her.

He fell forward, rubbing their chests together, relishing the soft give of her squirming body beneath him with a groan of approval. He found her lips, their tongues caressing each other hungrily, her breath steaming up at him with each squishy thrust.

By the end of tonight, her soft, curvy body and her beautiful, gentle mind would be entirely his. Her chocolatey scent would be his to taste for himself from the intimate source, sweet nectar on his tongue.

He nosed her exposed gland, breathing deeply, his tongue tracing the delicious swell.

“Naruto-kun,” she whispered, a tremor shaking her bodily as he licked her, her soft hold clenching around him.

Desire surged, the base of his piece already swelling. “Hinata,” he groaned, trying to hold back his eager, oncoming knot, “can I claim you from the back?”

Like in the traditional pictures. The Alpha dominating the Omega into submission first before they changed places, and the Omega ultimately choosing whether to seal the bond for life. It wasn’t the only way, but it was the one he had frequently fantasized about as a teenager whenever Hinata was absent. Maybe because he was always watching her from the back of the classroom, always noticing if she turned around.

Her light eyes gazed up at him through lowered lashes. “Yes.”

He sat up, pulling her legs together against his chest. A few thrusts into her, and she twisted onto her side, her body curving deliciously, his hands delighting in her pinched waist, her pillowy breasts, the jiggle of her ass as he slapped into her. “Fuck.” His knot was inflating fast, insisting on burying into her with each push. “On your hands and knees, Omega. Present for your Alpha.”

She gained her knees as he pulled out for a second, turning her dripping petals up to him beneath a wiggling, full ass.

He drove forward, ramming himself into her, her body opening up for his knot. He pushed himself deeper as she took the swell of him, her lower lips closing around him, locking him in like she was made for him, her body ready for his inner Alpha to claim her. Excitement thrilled through him, her gland prominently waiting for him with Hinata’s hair draped on the other side. Salivating, he leaned over her prone form, hands gliding and squeezing up her smooth body until his fingers sunk into her breasts.

He tongued her gland, relishing the flutter of her cushiony flesh conforming to his tight knot, the pleasure prickling like static. He let his teeth graze her delicate skin, the tease on his mind unbearable, yet devastating on her.

“I’m yours, I’m yours, oh, Alpha, I’m yours, please, Alpha, only yours, take me, take me-”

His lips enclosed around the swollen skin, gently suckling as she fucked herself on his knot, her ass shaking on his pelvis wildly, aromatic slick smearing all over him. “Hinata, all mine, so cute and needy on my big cock, begging for my claim.”

“Yes, yes, please…” Her repeated, begging promises overpowered the last of his control, his hand reaching further up to take hold of her slender neck, the possessive gesture wringing a mindlessly loud moan from her throat.

He bit.

She burst beneath him.

Hormone-rich flavor flooded his senses, ecstatic pleasure whipping at him like a pinch, grounding his body to hers as warmth pooled low, he was coming hard, but airy delight enfolded him, her scent and taste softly weighing through him. He clung to her shivering body, hands squeezing at her skin, his fingers reaching for more of her, his cock still twitching out cum as far as he could reach. He swallowed down more of his claim, more of the forbidden honey of her body, a devotion sealing upon him that sent his heart throbbing louder and louder, only to realize...it was hers. Her pulse and moaning breaths so clear, he couldn’t hear himself at all.

Heat spread from his chest, circulating out until he was burning uncomfortable pins and needles across his whole body, numbing him.

Except for where they touched.

He had at some point fallen to his side, tangling her to himself as close as he could. Need rippled through him. His body felt empty. His own mating gland felt tight and hot, pulling and pulsing at his neck. Her soft skin and flesh comforted him like a drug, all of his senses zeroing in on her sensation, and he needed more of her, yet his Alpha felt weak, intoxicated, incapable of taking what he wanted.

All he could do was clutch her tightly, pierce himself into her over and over as his knot softened, suck on her skin, and listen to each of her hitching cries in attempts to soothe the aches of an incomplete bond.

Her dewy gland left his lips, and in his lust-ridden daze, he wanted to pin her back down, but he couldn’t.

He couldn’t move as she pushed his shoulder, laying him flat, as she mounted him and moved upon him.

Through bleary eyes he regarded the bouncing form of his mate, each stroke making her moans sing in his mind, her heavy pulse drumming in his ears. His Alpha, drunk on his claim, murmured, My Omega, mine, encouraging his hands to pull her wide hips down to meet his weakened thrusts, fingers to lazily pull at her nipples as they jiggled in front of him. Before long, she was taking in his knot again, her flaring hips swaying as she fitted herself onto him, her soft body perfectly taking him, her Omega voice whispering so sweetly, “My Alpha...”

He strained his head to the side in a helpless plea. Never before had he felt so needy or powerless. They had learned in Health Class about how incomplete bonds could drive someone mad. How imbuing someone else’s essence within can lead to emotional, mental, and physical pain if left unanswered.

And he realized he would feel frightened if he didn’t trust her completely to take him in return, to glide her hands across his chest like he’s precious, to lean over him as her heated gasps and cries rang through him, to lowly murmur, “Mine,” an echo that alerted his senses enough for his body to gravitate up toward her, toward her kisses, her teeth, grazing, sinking…

He burned.

Strained.

Furiously released.

Her enticing, whimpering sounds urged him on.

A thick pulse from his gland, to his heart, to his cock.

Like a heavy thread tying him to her fluttering clutch around his throbbing piece, to her rapid pulse beating in his mind, to her caressing and insistent tongue and lips on his neck. His whole self, not just his dick, was knotted to her for the first time. Cum continued to spill out of him, each shot spreading fluffy euphoria over him, whitening his mind around their taut connection.

And then he could truly feel her.

Her Omega.

Pleasant, delighted comfort mirroring his own. Her beautiful emotions washing through him, completing his until he couldn’t distinguish his own high from hers.

He turned his head, pushing her face from his gland, finding hers, and drinking her in. He caught her dripping essence on his tongue, the warm, sweet taste whipping at him once more, drugging him.

Her heightened pleasure raced against his heart as she climbed the peak of ecstasy once more. Striking ecstasy surged harder and harder through their bond, her orgasm crashing through him, more cum spurting out of him as she cried out her elation.

He felt endless.

Cycled and recycled in her embrace. Needing and providing, giving and receiving, sharing and keeping.

They enjoyed their new bond straight through the start of her heat, his body not needing a break for several hours past his normal, rut-less limit. When his piece finally softened, he noticed she wasn’t exhibiting the usual symptoms of her heat, like deliriousness and confusion. He knew exactly what she wanted, and while he pleasured her with a dildo instead, she didn’t beg him for anything he couldn’t give.

She was less tired in the brief respites from her heat.

She seemed settled and happy, rather than struggling against her inner Omega’s needs.

“We should’ve bonded sooner,” he reflected aloud as they finally ate their first meal in over ten hours.

Sitting in his lap, she hummed in agreement, snuggling against his chest, and sighed, “I love you, Naruto-kun.”

“I love you, Hinata.” He smiled, meeting her content expression.

Thoughts of their parents’ reactions were far from their minds.

And of course, as soon as they broke the news when her heat was over, Hinata’s father immediately forced them to have a civil marriage at the courthouse that week, even though their wedding ceremony and celebration with guests were in only a month and a half. Hiashi made Naruto move into Hinata’s apartment immediately, even though the agreement had originally been only for her heats or his ruts.

They stood together, admiring the photographs of their wedding on the refrigerator. Hinata smiled into his chest as they embraced. “We got to get married twice,” she reflected aloud with a laugh.

“Yeah, see, not too many people get to have two weddings,” he agreed.

“And I got to have you all the time, sooner, so it’s definitely a good thing.”

“Yeah.” He squeezed her harder, despite knowing what her sinfully angelic body would do to him. He was thinking their parents, Hiashi included, must have remembered the effects of new bonds, and for that reason forced them to marry and move in together, beyond just for appearance’s sake and societal expectations…

He missed her all the time. A strange loneliness even if he was surrounded by people. And his libido was much higher than before.

He wasn’t taught that part about the bond in school.

That seeing her at the wedding in her figure-hugging gown would nearly incite an erection. That having their first dance, even in front of all their friends and family, would make him want to grind against her like they’re in the club. That just thinking of her at work would make him feel like he needed to rub one off in the bathroom.

It was like being on the tip of going into a rut, but staying at that edge for days, weeks. He could still control himself easily, but if she’s in his arms here and now, there’s really no reason to stress about it.

It affected her similarly.

She was more than willing, letting him make love to her wherever they were in the apartment, just turning around, pulling her panties down, and allowing him to fit into her so that they could satisfy the physical side-effects of their bond. “Naruto-kun,” she gasped out as she leaned against the kitchen counter.

He watched the soft skin of her ass bouncing on his hips with each of his energetic thrusts. “Hinata, you’re so sexy.”

She hummed a disagreement that turned into a yelp as he pinched her nipples, rolling them between his thumbs and forefingers until they were hard points.

“Yes, you are.” His dick twitched inside of her as she gasped tortured cries. He was going to come quickly, the need beginning to boil over even though it had only been a couple of minutes. His right hand groped her full breast, the plush skin turning him on even harder as his left reached down to find her clit.

His middle finger slid over the hot, moist hood. One gentle stroke, and she was convulsing on him. Two strokes, and she sobbed out his name.

A groan fell out as he pulled himself close to her, shoving his straining piece as deeply as he could and pulsing sweet release into her soft clutch.

She panted into the crook of her arm, letting him rest against her back. “I love you.”

Smiling tiredly into her hair, he whispered, “I love you, too.”

Quickies were a solution to ease their newly mated Alpha and Omega, and gradually, over the course of the year, their cycles calmed and fell into a synchronizing rhythm.

It’s a blessing he doesn’t take for granted. Rutting into his mate and not just any heated Omega found on dating apps. His only partner in his whole life.

There’s nothing better than knowing he’s the only one to have ever held her, the only one to have ever been inside her, to make her gasp and cry in pleasure, to have her slick dripping down his groin, and to have his name on her wanton tongue.

To be the only one she’s ever called, “Alpha…”

To be the only one she looks at with heat-stained pink cheeks and glazed, cloudy, adoring eyes.

To hear her begging for his knot, to bear his child.

He’s lucky.

“Good girl,” he mutters before smashing his lips to hers, her squeals hot on his tongue. Sucking kisses down her jaw, he buries his face at her neck and nudges into her until she opens up for his knot completely. “Take it.” Elation tickles at his extremities, and he holds her soft body closer.

Tense hands press into his back, and her silky flesh pulls at him with insistent tugs around his knot. She arches into him with mindless, urgent praises.

Hot spurts of cum leave his aching cock, and he shudders against her smaller, trembling form. Groaning, he jerks into her, pressing his straining piece as deeply as he can.

Her still-broken gasps, the pull of her body, and the vibrant scent of her gland promise him a long climax, and he imagines the concentrated seed of his rut soaking into her cervix.

She’s probably already pregnant from their first round with the fertile conditions of their bond, but that knowledge only stirs his Alpha’s primal instincts.

In some bygone evolutionary past, unmated outsiders of the pack would be drawn to a pregnant female’s “glow,” her shroud of strongly attractive aroma meant to encourage her own mate to stay close and provide...

Itʻs a medical fact that soon Hinata’s enticing scent will lure others with little self-control.

So he just needs to make sure they know she’s his.

Sitting up, he leisurely grinds into her jolting body, delighting in each tortured cry. She’s still sensitive to the touch, but he strokes the slanting curves of her hips, around to her soft thighs near his torso, then back up her body to squish into her tits. Minutes of caressing her body pass, and his knot gradually deflates, allowing him to stab into her with longer thrusts. “Hina...you feel how hard I still am for you?”

She nods with a blissful smile. “Naruto-kun,” she coos.

“Yeah.” He grabs her wrists and brings her hands down, silently encouraging her to feel their sloppy connection below.

Dutifully, her hand encircles the base of his length as he pulls out, dripping with their cum, while he has her other hand smear against her steamy womanhood. “My Alpha’s made me so wet,” she comments, her cloudy eyes lidded in sensual intimacy.

He takes her hands and flattens them against her stomach, then glides them up to her full breasts. Watching her touch herself, he groans as he penetrates back into her slick folds. “Feel how soft you are? Feel how your body makes me so hard for you?”

The pink of her cheeks deepens as she moans, and he pierces her a few more times before withdrawing once more.

He drags his cock along her thigh and rubs the mess into her creamy skin. He scoops the dribbling loads from her pussy and smoothes it across her tummy. “Rub it in.”

She does the rest without prompting, her fingers reaching down to her lower lips spread around the tip of his girth before drawing back up to trace shining patterns over her skin.

Grinding into her, he watches her hands dip over the slopes of her body, her fingers shamelessly lingering at her nipples, pleasuring herself, leaving their cum shining on her areolas. “Pretty tits,” he grunts, leaning down to nip at the jiggling, erect buds.

Suddenly she tenses up, writhing beneath him, her breasts pillowing against his face. Her stressed grip clenches at his biceps, and he looks up to see her agonized expression.

Her eyes closed in rapture.

Swollen lips wide open, her jaw working around a breathless scream.

Velvety folds tighten around him, inviting him to snuggle deeper as her creamy fluid splashes down his balls. Pride sizzles through him at the tell-tale signs of a well-loved Omega, the idea of her soon-to-be multiple, repeated orgasms exciting him.

She bucks up at him, quietly begging, “More…knot...need…knot…”

Pulling out, he flips her onto her stomach. Using his knees to spread her legs apart, he glides his piece along the length of her crack, steamy slick sticking to her ass cheeks as he compares his engorged size to her smaller body.

“Naru-”

He slides back into her spread petals, rapidly pounding into her. Avidly watching her ass bounce against him, he slaps the pale skin to bright red, earning him ecstatic squeals. That familiar pinching surges low, and he’s swollen again, his knot taut and full, but her dripping folds easily wrap around him as he pushes in.

She gasps mindless words of appreciation that devolve into a moan once he reaches beneath her to stroke her slippery clit. One, two, three hard rubs with his fingers, and her passage tightens up in rhythmic tugs on his knot.

His eyes roll back as she forces his ejaculate out, a snarl fixed into his jaw. His fingers push into her clit as he grinds into her, ensuring a torturous orgasm that leaves her breathlessly climbing another peak soon after.

“A-Alpha, oh, Alpha!” Creamy slick leaks around his knot as she writhes enticingly beneath him, and within a minute, her soaked walls are massaging his hot length once more in trembling ecstasy.

Grunting, he squirts out the last of his load, adrenaline streaming hot-cold from every extremity, tingling pleasure washing through and seeping into her.

He collapses, pulling her to their sides. Eyes falling closed, he focuses his senses on the chocolatey taste of her honey dripping on his tongue, the melty feeling of his cock nestled securely in their shared moisture, and the softness of her areolas puckered into tight nubs between his fingers. He enjoys her squirming ass in his lap, the thumping beat of her heart in the background of his mind, her loving sighs.

Teasing pleasure tickles at his inner beast, and possessive affection blooms strong within.

An instinctive pressure in his chest to hold her close and never let go.

Ebbing and flowing through his veins, emotion rising like an incoming tide. It’s still hardly the start of their first acclimated bond together; they’re only just entering the final stage of the mating process.

Her heady scent is stronger than ever, and he’s sinking into it. The pitching climax of their bond has him relinquishing control to her needs, his body easily responding to her desires. They’re reaching a new depth and alignment in their relationship that excites and mystifies him, will conceivably drag him under and rebirth him.

“Do..do you hear that?” Her breathless voice is barely audible over the faint, singing hum he can feel trembling through them, a primordial tone of mates only ever described, never recorded.

“Yeah.” Content attachment fizzes through him, bubbles across his skin, and he cuddles her close, snuggling his piece deep.

She turns her head, hot blush dusted across her cheeks, warm lips and tongue slotting perfectly with his.

He is meant for this, meant for her to be meant for him. Maybe the gods didn’t tie red threads between their fingers, but she twined him in herself. Each look, word, scrap of attention paid tangled them, sewed his soul to hers in a way their bodies can only attempt to replicate in sinfully sweet ritual.

“Naru..mm…” Her light gasps mist at his tongue with each rock into her body, and he drinks each breath in, savors the pure adoration and unremitting arousal he can taste from her lips.

“I know, Hinata, I know.” Sweet craving and even sweeter indulgence wrap beautifully about him, and he draws them deeper to sweetest release.

#naruto-smut-monday #naruhina fanfiction #naruhina fanfic #thank you for reading!#alpha/beta/omega au #a/b/o dynamics

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walviemort · 3 years ago

Text

Fairy Godfather, part 2

Summary: The fairies have asked a monumental favor of Killian: be the surrogate for their babies—all nine of them. He’s been pregnant before, but this? This is a whole other level. What has he gotten himself into? And just how big will he get?

A/N: Another update! This is kind of consuming me so you’ll be getting these pretty often, I hope! thanks to @sancocnutclub for all her encouragement ;)

rated T / 2.2k words / part 1 / AO3

He didn’t wake until mid morning the next day, and was still fairly fatigued, but otherwise felt alright—just a bit tender about the middle.

A shower helped dissolve most of the lingering soreness, and he took some time in front of the mirror to look for any changes.

Given that his stomach had never returned to its previous hardened state, it was hard to notice any discernible change in shape, but when he poked around, there was definitely a rounded area that hadn’t been there before.

He also took a moment to memorize his body as it was; it wouldn’t be long before the babes made their presence visibly known, and the changes that happened while pregnant with Hope were still fresh in his mind. He was both glad that Belle was keeping track of his stats, and already dreading it.

But she was probably waiting for him, so he needed to get a move on—and something to eat; he was starting to feel peckish, but couldn’t tell whether or not it was more than usual.

His normal jeans still fit comfortably, albeit a hair snug. It wouldn’t last long, but he’d relish it while it did. At least his shirts would last longer; he’d found a new appreciation for the forgiving cotton knits of this realm in his second trimester.

Emma was already at the station when he got downstairs, but she’d left behind plenty of pancakes, and he ate a few more than normal; he wasn’t sure how to interpret that.

Before heading to the library, he went to pick up Hope from her sleepover with her grandparents. David greeted him at the door, with tiny Ruth asleep on his chest.

“So, how’d it go?” he asked, hardly able to keep his eyes away from Killian’s midsection.

“Fine, as far as I could tell. Weird, but fine.”

“Did it hurt?”

“No, thankfully, but I’m sure there will be plenty of aches and pains later.”

David winced. “Man, am I glad they asked you and not me. This one was enough,” he said, patting Ruth’s back gently.

“I don’t disagree, but…”

“But you feel like you owe them,” David finished.

“Aye.”

“Well, I think it’ll be the other way around by the end of this, but we’ll help you out as much as we can.”

“I appreciate it—and I’m sure we’ll need it with this one,” he replied, nodding at Hope, who was attempting to escape out a window.

She was easily wrangled, though, and happy to see him. He had no idea what fairy infants were like, but if they were half as charming as his daughter (who definitely took after her grandfather), this whole town would revolve around them.

As he thought, Belle was waiting for him, tape measure in hand. “Seriously?” he griped as he set Hope down next to Gideon in the playpen behind the circulation desk.

“You can’t possibly be surprised,” she threw back. “But if it’s any consolation, I won’t do it again until next week.”

“You only did it monthly last time around.”

“You were only carrying one babe.”

He sighed. “Fine.”

Though his waist measurement remained unchanged, his weight was slightly higher (more than could be expected by a few extra pancakes). “I can feel it,” he confirmed when she asked. “There’s definitely something in there, though I only notice it if I go looking for it.”

Belle made a note and then flipped back and forth between some pages. “That matches up with when you found out you were expecting Hope; so do your measurements, and that was, what 8 weeks?”

“Yeah, thereabouts.”

“Second pregnancies do show sooner, too.”

“Especially this one,” he grumbled.

“Oh yeah,” she agreed.

The day continued normally, although his hand did gravitate to his stomach pretty often, without thinking about it. Even if it wasn’t noticeable, he still knew what was there, and his subconscious seemed to have already set out to protect it—that, or his hormones were already starting to affect him.

Based on his reaction when Emma arrived that afternoon—particularly to his train of thought when she bent down to pick up a napping Hope—it was definitely hormones. His jeans felt a very different kind of tight then; something he acted on later that night, after a slightly larger than usual dinner.

“Those hormones kicked in fast,” a sated Emma breathed as they came down from their shared high. “You haven’t been that voracious since we found out we were having a girl.”

“Are you complaining?” he panted.

“Absolutely not.”

“Good.” And they went for another round.

In fact, he was so insatiable the next couple of weeks that, despite his elevated appetite, no other discernible change in his weight was noticed; his waist actually went down a bit.

“Are you feeling alright? Keeping food down and everything?” Belle asked, worried, as she recorded his 2-week measurements, comparing them to his 10-week from his first pregnancy. “Last time, you couldn’t eat more than chicken rice about now.”

“Trust me—I feel more than fine,” he assured her. “Were it not for Emma’s implanted contraception, we’d likely need to be planning for a more traditional pregnancy.”

“That’s a very eloquent way of saying you can’t keep your hands off your wife.”

“I could have phrased it crudely—how many synonyms for ‘sex’ did you want Gideon to learn today?”

“None!” she exclaimed, covering her son’s impressionable ears. He was at the age when he repeated anything said around him—a fact they noticed when Gideon’s favorite phrase became “bloody hell.”

“What are uncles for, though?” he teased with a wink.

Belle just groaned and threatened to teach Hope how to read with romance novels. Killian, however, was just glad she slept through the night so she didn’t interrupt the real thing.

---------------------------------------------------------

Where there had been some hubbub about town during Killian’s first pregnancy—and quite a lot of gawking—no one seemed as shocked this time around. They’d made no effort to keep it a secret, letting the Storybrooke rumor mill do its job, but either the town was more aware than Killian had been about fairy reproduction, or they had become jaded to such magical oddities (he assumed the latter).

That said—he had to assume the gawking would eventually return.

Especially with the way Granny was feeding him. To be fair, she wasn’t letting him overindulge, but he’d noticed his portions were larger, and the amount of vegetables increased. He wondered if Blue had given her some nutritional instruction, or if it was just her innate grandmotherly instincts.

The first time she slid an extra helping of broccoli over, he tried to protest, delicious as it looked.

“Oh no—eat up, young man,” she commanded. “If my math is right, you’re eating for 10. I should probably be feeding you more, actually.”

Emma snickered next to him—they were on lunch break from the station—but he wasn’t sure if it was at Granny’s tutting or the fact that Killian had just realized the magnitude of…well, all of it.

So when Granny slid some extra onion rings across the counter, he didn’t complain (but obviously shared them with his wife).

He wanted to blame it on those extra treats—onion rings, fries, pie, muffins—when they noticed an expansion in his waist measurement at 3 weeks, but it was definitely the babes; he could still wear his normal jeans, but was seeing some rounding behind his navel.

And at 4 weeks—a month since the babes were transferred—it could finally be deemed a bump: there was a gentle curve to his whole stomach, from just under his pecs to his hips (which had been aching a bit as they widened some, likely in anticipation of the heavy load to come). Given the way he and Emma’s evening activities hadn’t slowed, he knew it was all the babies.

Belle hummed as she compared the notes she’d just taken with those from last time. “Well, that’s interesting,” she commented.

“What is?” Emma asked; she’d joined them for that week’s check in, curious to see where things were.

“This week’s measurements match up with those from the end of the first trimester last time, which I suppose isn’t a huge surprise, but…”

“But I have a lot more to go than two trimesters,” he finished.

All eyes were on his stomach for a long while after that, likely all wondering the same thing: just how large would he get?

The only thing that took their attention away was the ringing of the bell over the door as someone arrived—Blue, it turned out. “Hi,” she greeted, clearly trying to be casual. “Just wanted to stop by and see how things were going.”

He wasn’t naive enough to believe she’d stay away from him for the duration of the pregnancy, although he had expected more subtle surveillance.

They chatted briefly about how he was feeling, and she studied his stomach with an outstretched hand, he assumed to do her own magical assessment. “Yes, they seem to be doing quite well; that’s good.”

“Did you think they weren’t?” Emma quipped.

“No, of course not,” Blue assured her. “Would it be odd to express my excitement?”

Well, they all understood that. “How long has it been since your last brood?” Belle had to ask.

“Over fifty years,” Blue answered. “They’re usually every five to ten, depending on the solstice.”

“And when you don’t have a series of curses in the way,” Emma added.

Blue glanced over Belle’s notes with interest. “That does seem to match up with past broods, though I don’t think anyone ever thought to take such detailed notes.”

“Are there any?” Belle asked. “I don’t have anything here, but if you had some back at the convent, it’d be great for comparison.”

“I’d have to check our library,” Blue answered. “There might be a few scrolls, but we’re not much for recorded history.”

“I can tell,” Belle complained.

After some more chatting, Blue excused herself, but did ask if it was alright if she checked in periodically.

“Of course,” Killian said. “It’s your brood. Plus, I’m certain we’ll need to take you up on the offer of help sooner rather than later, if this is where I’m already at after only 4 weeks,” he added, gesturing to his still-small bump.

“Absolutely,” Blue said. “Oh! I almost forgot.” She pulled her wand out of nowhere and twirled it at Killian’s midsection. His skin grew warm for a moment, but then returned to normal. “I’m not sure if the original spell will account for the size, as far as how it treats your skin; that should eliminate any damage.”

“No stretch marks?” he wondered.

“No—not any new ones, at least.”

“Oh, thank goodness.”

She then left as quickly as she appeared.

“Guess that’s something we’ll have to get used to,” he sighed, and then they went about their day. But he was starting to grow very concerned about what lay ahead for him; he knew this wouldn’t be a small feat, but was worried it would be more than he could handle.

As time progressed, his bump steadily grew, though not unnaturally so. At 5 weeks, it was yet more noticeable; at 6, he finally had to concede defeat and dig out his maternity jeans, though they were still plenty roomy. By the end of the second month, he wasn’t quite where he’d been at the end of his second trimester, but it was definitely a baby bump—roughly where he’d been around 24 weeks with Hope, even though he was only at 8 with this one.

It was around then, though, that he noticed the first flutterings inside. He thought he’d noticed it the week before, but chalked it up to gas or something like that; Granny had been feeding him a lot of black beans lately. But late one night, after yet another glorious session of lovemaking, Emma’s hand had drifted to his belly and even she took notice.

“Wow, they’re actually starting to move in there, huh?”

“Seems like it. You don’t suppose they actually have wings already, do they?”

“Normal babies hardly have limbs at this stage, so probably not.”

They lay peacefully in the afterglow for a bit, before he asked quietly, “You are okay with this, right?”

It wasn’t the first time he’d ask, nor was it likely to be the last. But it was a large undertaking and though she hadn’t exactly protested, he knew it wasn’t something she’d have volunteered for.

“For the hundredth time, yes. Even if this was partly fueled by guilt, I know you probably would have agreed anyway, and that big heart is why I love you so much. And can I say something else?”

“What’s that, love?”

“I was so attracted to you with that baby bump last time, even when you thought you were massive. So as long as your libido holds out, I think we’re both going to be very happy.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Mm, I think I might need some convincing.”

“Then let me show you.” And oh, she did.

Gods, he prayed he’d be able to do that for a while. The next several months were going to be very interesting.

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thanks for reading! tagging @wyntereyez @jennjenn615 @superadam54 @ashley-knightingale @justsomewhump @teamhook @88infinity88 (let me know if you want a tag!)

#cs ff #killian mpreg #fairy godfather #my ff

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etherealluminescence · 4 years ago

Note

Could I request MC being distant with their demon bro S/O and hanging out with their brothers more. The bros don’t know why. Do they wanna break up? Do they need some space away? Do they like another one of the bros more? As they go to talk things out with MC they overhear them talking with the other bros about how they want to plan the perfect date for their 1 year anniversary and need their help in making sure everything goes well. How do the bros react??

Of course anon! Sorry for the late reply, here you go! I just got back from the hospital, aha guess who has sciatica, that might not go away for months? aha aha. 2021 sure is a bang!! (:

Side note I got a free pull on chapter and got a UR but literally nothing on my ten pull not even an SSR that I didn’t own. I only got one SSR. This is luck and so unlucky.

Brothers react to GN!Reader being distant..?

Lucifer

Lucifer was often busy, and he knew that. He stayed up late and had to attend many meetings, but you’d always be so understanding and he loved that about you.

But recently, you haven’t been waiting for him in his office or running to his office with a warm cup of tea, telling him not to overwork himself like normal.

At first he was not super concerned. You must be busy getting your midterms done, and studying! You want him to be proud of you and praise you.

However he happened to go for a break and see you leisurely chatting with his brothers? And not studying? After noticing him, you avoided eye contact and ran.

He was concerned and knew something was up. He would confront you, but it seems like you did not want to talk to him. Did he do something wrong?

He started taking a few breaks, and sort of stalked you. He was getting annoyed and was going to finally corner you, until he heard Mammon very loudly shout out this was going to be the best anniversary date.

Asmo was also clapping and cheering talking about how cute/cool you would look for your anniversary date for Lucifer. It finally clicked.

He chuckled to himself as he walked back into his office and quickly finished off his work, after being in a good mood. He’s been so busy recently he failed to realise your anniversary was so soon.

When your first anniversary date finally came, he was calm and collected. Before you could even tell him the plan, who pulled out some flowers and chocolate, giving you a chaste kiss on the forehead.

Mammon

He was having a really bad day, losing all of the money he just earned, and wanted to cuddle you.

You were nowhere to be seen, so he waited for you on the couch, seeking your warmth as soon as you returned.

However, you came back with Beel,, and Lucifer,, and Belphie... why??? Why would you hang out with those guys?? On a Saturday?!

He pounced and cuddle you, and chased off his brothers. He cuddled you in front of the door, and wouldn’t let you get up for twenty minutes and kept mumbling “you’re my human!”

After head patting and backrubbing, he sat up and got off of you. You gently got up and told him you’ve got things to do, but you’ll cuddle later.

Later never came, but you talking to his brothers did. Why weren’t you giving him attention? You were his! He was your first! And that includes first to talk to about your day!

It was completely accidental, but while he headed to your room to cuddle, he heard you pleading with Lucifer to not be mean to Mammon for awhile, and to help make your date smooth.

He thought you were asking Lucifer on a date, but then he heard his name, and one year anniversary.

Fuck. He forgot that existed. Wait wait wait. His human is setting up a date? He’s so proud.

You already know that he knows because he’s utterly confident approaching you and puffs out his chest and swings his arm around your shoulder,

He thinks he’s so sneaky, but you all knew that he knows. If that’s the case, he may as well get his snuggle time back now.

Leviathan

You would go to Levi’s room every evening after dinner just to hear him ramble on about his newest merch, or to cuddle him and give him an abundance of affection.

However, recently you’ve said that you needed to focus on your grades a bit, since you were failing, so you’ll make it up to him when it’s over.

Of course he didn’t question it. A normie like you still has to occasionally study. He was going to play some horror games he recently bought, so it was for the best.

He was so absorbed in his games he didn’t notice you haven’t stopped by for a week, or that your grades weren’t even bad. That was until..

“Shit.” He hissed as he reached into an empty drawer. All of his emergency rations were gone, so he’d have to leave his room to fetch somemore. He begrudgingly made his way to the kitchen, where he found you laughing and joking with his brothers.

He didn’t enter, only watch through a small creak in the door and let his mind go wild. Did you hate him? Why are you laughing? Is mammon actually funny? Why are you nodding? Why is there that excited look in your eyes?

He ran away back to his room seething with rage. He was jealous, yet afraid. A thousand thoughts went through his head, to the point he was ignoring you when you approached him.

You were concerned, but it made your job easier. Though, this made Levi angrier and caused him to doubt himself more. Why weren’t you chasing after him??! It’s obvious he wants you to ask him what’s wrong.

He finally marched to the living room, his jealousy outweighing his self-doubt, and was about to confront you. Until he heard Beel say he got the reservation at a cat-maid cafe downtown.

What? And then he heard Mammon say that he found the figurine of a limited edition Ruri chan you were trying to get for your anniversary.

Shit oh man. Levi forgot about your anniversary. He thought you said you didn’t want to do anything?? He’s keyboard smashing while his face goes red, running to his room.

Are you really doing this for him?? A yucky otaku?? Is it true you actually live him? His jealousy instantly cleared and he became giddy, and then worried about what to get you.

On the day of the date he fidgeted a whole lot waiting for you to ask him, and nearly shouted yes as you told him you wanted to go somewhere. He fell in love with you again.

Satan

Immediately suspicious when you refused to spend time with him. Thought you were mad at him or tired of him, due to his anger issues.

Gets angry when he sees you talking to his brothers, or walking with them in between classes. When did you get so close with them?

He’s not one to hide his feelings, so he was going to ask you what’s going on, he’s not playing a cat and mouse game with you. If you don’t love him anymore, just tell him. And at the very least don’t let it be Lucifer who you love now.

Your anniversary was coming up and he knew it. He didn’t want to waste his time planning something for you two if you were going to break up with him.

He was entering the living room to confirm your feelings with you when he hears Lucifer tell you where you could get one of Satan’s favourite spell books that he’s wanted a hard copy of since forever.

He hears Beel tell you of good restaurants, and understands. You were doing that cliche things that happens in books.

He chuckled to himself for not being a great detective on this case, and observed you from a distance. Happy looking at you, who thinks they’re so sneaky.

On the day of the date he completely one ups you, whatever gift you gave him was nothing compared to amount of love he showered you with, and he even played stupid.

“I’m so hurt, I thought you’d break up with me on our anniversary.” You panicked and tried to reassure him and watch him laugh.

Asmodeous

Honey, do you REALLY think he’d forget your anniversary, or think his brothers are a thing to worry about? He’s the prettiest out of all of them! What’s there to worry about?

He catches on very early that you were planning to make your anniversary special. He can just feel your love for him, even when you’re distant.

He knows the only reason you’d communicate with all those annoying brother’s of his for more than five minutes and ignore him is if you’re asking about him!

He overhears you talking to them about them when he comes back from shopping one day, which confirms his suspicions.

It’s a good thing, since he can freely go shop for you. He buys a ton of stuff because your cute face keeps popping up in his head, and how cute you are planning a secret date for him because you love him.

Your cuteness might even rival his. While you finish up setting the date, he’s preparing himself. The night before he goes all out with his beauty products, cucumbers, face mask.

He even anonymously leaves you a bunch of beauty products. Of course it had to be Asmo though, since there was glitter everywhere, and a bunch of hearts on a note that said “anonymous”.

The next day he wore his cutest outfit, an adorable crop top and sweater, with his designer bags and boots, he looked like the absolute queen he is.

From the gift you got, you assumed he knew. And from his look, he knew. It was just amazing how you seven really thought Asmo, the king of love, would not remember the anniversary of the one person he’s ever actually loved, not just for their body, but for their personality.

Would be insulted if you didn’t do this for him. You’re just so adorable!! He also forces you to change your outfit to match with him, and absolutely uploads a ton of selfies saying matching and couple goals!!

Beelzebub

You told him you were busy, and that you couldn’t spend as much time with him as usual. He was super supportive like you have a life too!! Go ahead!! I love you!! Don’t worry!!

But then he sees you hanging out with his brothers a lot and laughing and having fun and his aura just radiates the “):” face.

Did you not want to spend time with him? Is it because he ate part of your wall? Were you tired of him?? Did you not like big boys anymore??

He looked super sad and depressed and you wanted to cry and squish his cheeks, but didn’t want to ruin the surprise. You forced your heart to be closed so you could make him happy later.

He knew your anniversary was coming up and wanted to do something special!! But did you subtly hint you no longer loved him and not even attempt to do an anniversary food binge with you?

It clicked when he walked in on Asmo shoving clothes in your direction telling you to pick out your favourite one, so he could match you and Beel for the day of your date.

His entire entity went from “):” to “:)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” He just mentally said I love you.

He just melted to your touch in the few moments you would stay together. He couldn’t hide how much he loved you and wanted to squish you afterwards, with his big soft hands. But he had to resist.

You thought he was touch deprived, but were so glad to see it wasn’t the case!! And that he actually had a surprise for you!!

On top of all his meal coupons he’s saved on the past decade, he covered you in kisses and snuggled with you!!

Your date was cancelled because he just ended up cuddling you for so long, it was afternoon by the time you made it to the door.

Belphiegor

He was asleep a lot, so he didn’t notice at first. But each time he fell asleep with you, he woke up with empty arms. Sometimes even in his bed and alone.

Made him kind of pissed, because he liked how squishy you were. Your stomach was a great pillow, and he could hear your heartbeat when he laid his head on your chest. Your thighs were also plush and smooth.

Then it finally made him pissed to the pissiest degree you when you said you couldn’t sleep with him.

He was throwing a tantrum later when he saw you talking to his brothers. He was going to murder all of them if they did not sleep with one eye open.

One of these days he knew he was going to stab Lucifer in his sleep for being a little bitch, having to exist and breathe oxygen, but now the others are up on that list. Maybe not Beel, but he was still angry at him.

It was an accident, but he heard them talk about your one year anniversary, and heard Beel ask if you were getting enough sleep from how often you’ve been going out to prepare.

He’s like,, what one year anniversary? Is it a human world celebration?

Oh. He just said your one year dating anniversary. He is dating you.

He forgot that existed, people celebrating relationship goals. He’s never dated anyone. He doesn’t like people in general.

He huffed due to how you refused him and always left, over a small deal. It’s just an anniversary. But since you’re so excited he could let it go.

He napped a whole lot, and it came to the date sooner than he expected. You were all dressed up and he combed his hair and took a refreshing shower.

This is true couple goals, he didn’t look like he just rolled out of bed for once, and it was just to make you happy. He even gave you a little pillow!!

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #obey me hc #obey me headcanon #don’t worry about my health #Asmo literally cannot be fooled in the dating world 101 #sorry #speaking the truth

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dal3ks · 4 years ago

Text

coming home

pairing: peter parker x female reader

word count: 2.7k

warnings: sexual remarks, smut, cursing, allusions to sex, marking

a/n: this was a fic i had posted on my main account @a-dorin, but i am in the process of switching over content so that it is a strictly star wars account! just a disclaimer, i am not plagiarizing or stealing content, as this is my fic!

“so when does your flight leave columbus?” peter asked, his voice thick with sleep.

“tomorrow at nine a.m.,” you answered, “i can’t wait to see you.”

he beamed, “me either, love. it’s been a long three months without you.”

currently, you were sitting in your dorm room at ohio state university. you were on a facetime call with your boyfriend, peter parker. it was approaching midnight, 11:38 p.m., to be exact.

the next morning, you would be boarding a plane home. you were beyond excited to see everyone during thanksgiving break, as you hadn’t seen your parents in a few weeks. parent’s weekend was the last week of october, so it had been a while.

your heart ached at the thought of being curled up in bed with your dogs. your heart also ached at the thought of being curled up with your sweet, loving, boy.

peter had opted for a small private college in town for engineering and psychics. since he was a part of the avengers, they provided most of the funds for his tuition. it also helped that stark industries was on his résumé. meanwhile, you were about five hundred and thirty-three miles away in columbus.

yet, ohio state was your dream school. you wanted to go there since you could remember. it also helped that your father was an alumni. the university granted you a scholarship for that, and your ACT and SAT scores helped as well. you felt extremely blessed to be at your dream school, and you always remembered to remain humble.

“well babe,” peter began, “i need to start my term paper for my english class. anything on your mind before i go?”

“i just can’t wait to fuck you,” the words tumbled out of your mouth, and you mentally slapped yourself for saying anything.

peter raised a brow, “oh really? well, i can say the same for you princess.”

hearing your favorite nickname made your heart skip a beat, “i’m sorry i said that.”

“don’t be sorry,” peter smirked, “i loved hearing that. just you wait, princess. i’ll take care of you, just like i always do.”

“i want you now,” you whined.

“wait twenty-four hours and you’ll have me,” peter cooed, “i promise, princess. i have to go work on this paper, okay? i love you. text me.”

you pouted, jutting out your lip. peter sighed, “i can’t get distracted. it’s a ten page research paper. it’s really important babe.”

“okayyyy,” you huffed, picking a string on your comforter, “i love you too. see you tomorrow, handsome.”

“see you tomorrow, beautiful,” peter grinned, and the facetime call ended.

you plugged in your phone, letting it charge. you used to have a roommate, until she had to transfer in the middle of the semester. now, there was more empty space in the room. it was truly inevitable not to feel so lonely. especially when you were so fucking far away from everyone.

you hopped out of bed, opening the curtains. from your hall, you could see some of the glittering lights of the city. you could feel your heart aching, longing for the familiarity of your home. queens was your home. columbus was your second home. no where could ever compare to the place you grew up.

only a few more hours, though, and you would be home.

******

“is this seat open still?” a voice interrupted your thoughts.

startled, you glanced up to see a young man standing in the aisle of the airplane. even though you had the middle seat, the plane wasn’t entirely full. you decided to scoot closer to the window so you could see the sky.

you nodded, and the young man slid in beside you, “sorry, my seat was supposed to be the window seat, but i think you’re sitting in it. i don’t want to make you move. besides, looking out scares me a little bit.”

“i’m so sorry,” you apologized, “i didn’t know. you can have it back if you want.”

“oh no,” the man chuckled, “it’s not a big deal. don’t even worry about it.”

“where you flying to?” you inquired, as the man settled in his seat, “i’m (y/n), by the way.”

“i’m trying to get to manhattan,” the guy shrugged, “i’m aiden.”

“oh that’s cool!” you nodded, “i’m from queens.”

“gotcha,” aiden smiled, “actually, i’m coming from ohio state. i’m guessing you attend there as well?”

“yes,” you gushed, “i’m a kinesiology major, how about you?”

“i was a political science,” aiden replied, pulling out his phone, “but i switched to business. international marketing, specifically. i’m a junior though. i assume that you’re a freshman?”

“yep,” you answered, “navigating everything myself.”

“you’re not doing too bad,” he chuckled, “our background has probably helped a lot. do you have a snapchat or anything like that? don’t worry, i’m not hitting on you or anything. if you have a boyfriend back home, or at ohio state, i completely respect that. i just don’t want someone struggling alone. i’m not saying you are struggling, but i know the ins and outs of the school. if you ever need anything, feel free to ask.”

“oh yeah, i do,” you pulled your phone out of your pocket, “i’ll just add it to my notes and add you later. you’re extremely kind.”

“it’s not a problem,” aiden smiled, and that’s when you truly got a good look at him.

he was more than likely a college athlete. probably at ohio state for something like rugby, lacrosse, or rowing. he was fit, with a darker complexion. freckles dotted the bridge of his nose, and his dark brown curls were full. his jawline was clean, his handsome face completed with hazel eyes. god, if you weren’t single, you probably would have tried to make a move on the guy. he was gorgeous.

however, your anticipation to see the love of you life was eating away at you. your knee bounced up and down as you talked to aiden the rest of the flight. it was nice to have someone to talk to, as the it made the time fly by.

in no time, the plane was landing. aiden followed you as you boarded off, and towards the gate. security and bag checks felt like forever, but you finally made it through. you said your goodbyes to aiden, hoping that you two would reconnect once again. almost immediately, you were entering the train that was going to take you to your next stop. then, you would only be walking a couple blocks home. peter informed you that as soon as you were home, he was gonna come over.

you were excited, but a little anxious. insecurities started to creep into your thoughts. what if you had gained a noticeable amount of weight since the last time you saw him? what if you looked different? what if you weren’t good enough? even the thought of being naked in front of peter frightened you. however, you figured it was a little normal to be a little anxious. after all, it had been about three months since the last time you saw him.

suddenly, you were home. in front of you was your house, the crisp blue sky making the white paint appear clean and bright. the late november air was brittle, and the sun was on its way to dip over the horizon soon. skyscrapers in the skyline began to glisten as the sky got darker and darker. the traffic, people, and animals all became white noise as you walked up the sidewalk.

happiness flooded over you, especially as soon as you heard your dogs barking. you turned the knob, opening the door. your parents welcomed you with warm hugs, your dogs jumping everywhere with excitement.

after talking with your parents for a while, you trudged upstairs to your room. as soon as you opened the door of your room, you let out a sigh of happiness. so this is what pure happiness felt like. the feeling of bliss was immense.

you heard some commotion from your dogs downstairs, which you figured was a passerby or an animal. it happened often in your neighborhood. you could hear someone walking up the steps, and you inferred it was one of your parents.

it was not your mom or your dad. it was peter. immediately he scooped you into his embrace, and you felt yourself crumple into his arms. tears rolled down your cheeks as he squeezed you slightly, kissing the top of your head.

“i had no idea you were on your way,” you sniffled.

“once you stopped responding to my snaps for a bit i was worried,” peter murmured, “but i figured you were here. so i just decided to head this way.”

“i love you,” your eyes met his, “i love you so much.”

“i love you too,” peter grinned, “i love you more than you know, princess.”

******

“so what were you saying yesterday?” peter turned to you.

you raised a brow, confused, “what are you talking about?”

currently, you two were in your bed cuddling. it was the day before thanksgiving, so your parents were out buying groceries for the big dinner. so that left you and peter alone. the room was dimly lit by the christmas lights strung on the ceiling, and your favorite playlist was on low volume. peter’s shirt was off, and so were your pants. it just made things more comfortable.

“you talked about wanting to fuck me,” he answered, gently kissing your neck. he ran his fingers through your hair, “or was i mistaken?”

“i think you have a hearing deficiency,” you snorted, rolling over.

“heyyy,” peter whined, “how about i give you a back rub?”

the idea was tempting. it had been a long time since you had received a backrub from peter. sighing, you slipped off your hoodie, leaving you in just your bra and underwear. you laid on your stomach, and peter straddled your back.

his hands worked in gentle, soothing patterns on your skin. they stayed on your shoulders and back for a while, but started to drift downwards towards the small of your back, along with your butt. as he continued, you could almost feel the sexual tension in the air of the room. it was almost electric between the two of you as his hands roamed your body.

“hey princess,” peter’s voice was low, “can i take off your thong?”

you felt yourself stiffen, “no.”

“is something wrong?” his tone shifted from lust to fear. peter shifted his body so that he was now laying beside you again, “baby, what’s wrong?”

“i feel ugly,” you muttered, “it’s been a while, and i don’t know, i guess i feel insecure.”

“hey,” peter’s hand cupped your face, “you’re still beautiful (y/n) i fell in love with. i don’t care if anything has changed. if there are more stretch marks, i’ll kiss them all. whatever you’re worried about, let me handle, okay? you’re beautiful, (y/n). you’re so gorgeous. three months has no change to your beauty.”

“i love you,” your bottom lip trembled, and your eyes were brimmed with tears.

“i love you more,” peter’s lips met yours gently. he pulled back for a second, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

peter looked as handsome as ever. it was clear he just shaved, as his face was clean. his floppy brown hair was somewhat contained, and his brown eyes shown, as there was nothing but love for you in his eyes. his lips were full, and he a looked wiser than he did since the last time you saw him. you figured stress, college, and being a hero all were factors. his muscles were apparent, rippling whenever he moved. god, you were so lucky to have this man.

you pressed your lips to peter’s, this time a little more forceful. he was taken a back by your actions, but regained control. he licked your bottom lip, and his tongue entered your mouth. he shifted you so that you were now underneath him. his callused hands trailed down the sides of your body, going up and down in slow motions. you could tell he was being careful, as you both wanted to enjoy this moment between the two of you.

“fuck,” peter mumbled.

“what?” your lips were still against his.

“i’ve been waiting for this for a long time,” he admitted, “i can’t wait to make you cum.”

“then do it,” your words almost pushed him over the edge.

he tilted your head up, kissing directly under your jawline. you moaned softly, urging him to continue. he placed sloppy kisses down your neck, nipping at your skin. he had barely even started with you and you could feel how wet you were.

“can i take this off?” peter’s breath was hot against your skin.

“yes,” you answered, arching your back so his hands could unclasp your bra. he casted it to floor.

he placed kisses all over your stomach, stopping at the waistband of your thong.

“is it okay if i take this off too?” his tone was full of lust, you could tell he was beyond turned on.

peter’s cheeks were a slight tinge of pink, and his ears burned bright red. you figured you were just as bad, as you laid naked in front of him. his eyes casted over your entire body, taking it all in.

“you’re so beautiful,” peter seemed completely awestruck, “like fuck. can you do something for me princess?”

“what’s that?” you bit your lip.

“please sit on my face,” his question was more a plead as the words tumbled out of his mouth, “i want you to ride my face.”

“peter i don’t know,” your were unsure. it had been a while since you tried that position with him, and you didn’t want to suffocate your own boyfriend.

“i’ll still be able to breathe baby,” peter chuckled, as if he was reading your thoughts, “please? i need to taste my princess.”

his words were enough. you nodded, and peter laid on his back. nervously, you swung one leg over his body, and he pulled you closer to where he wanted you. once you were situated, his eyes met yours once more.

“just relax,” peter cooed, gently kissing each one of your thighs.

his tongue found your clit, going in slow, circular motions. a moan escaped your lips, only encouraging peter to keep going. one hand was on the small of your back to keep you steady, the other reaching up for your breasts. he began to suck slightly, which drove you closer and closer to your orgasm. god, you had missed this. peter knew exactly what you loved, and he showed no signs of slowing down either.

peter glanced up at you, watching as you moaned for him. his tongue slowly began to lick up and down, “such a good girl, keep moaning for me. i love when you’re loud.”

your moans echoed off the walls as peter continued to lick all over your pussy. his fingers tugged at your nipples, and you could feel your orgasm coming. you came without warning, your vision becoming blurry. your thighs trembled as pleasure washed all over you. peter gave your pussy one final lick, sending a shudder through your body.

“are you okay?” peter’s voice was no longer demanding. it was more gentle and soft. he helped you off his body, laying down with you in the bed. he began to trace his fingers down your exposed back, going in slow, soothing motions.

you nodded, “just tired, now.”

peter smirked, “did i wear you out?”

“just a little bit,” you scoffed, rolling over.

“don’t roll away from meeee,” he protested, wrapping you up in his arms, “i love you, princess.”

“i love you too,” you whispered, giving him a chaste kiss.

peter sighed with content, pulling you closer to his body. the door to your room was shut, so your parents wouldn’t bother the two of you. as you began to run your fingers through your hair, peter began to drift off. soon enough, he was out, his chest rising and falling. it wasn’t too long after that you fell yourself yourself.

coming home to peter was your favorite thing in the world.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #tom holland #tom holland x reader #mcu spiderman #mcu imagine #mcu universe #spiderman x reader #spiderman homecoming #spiderman #spider-man

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thedistrictsleepsalonetonight · 4 years ago

Text

Your mess is mine

Sue may only be a math major, but she knows this much about telling a story: it needs to have a beginning, middle, and an end.

If she were to sit down and write one, here is where it would start — Emily laughs and she falls in love. It doesn’t matter the year, the month, or the minute; when Emily laughs, she falls in love. Sue’s a little slow when these things are concerned, love doesn’t come to her as quickly or as easily as it has historically come to Emily. I saw you in the coffee shop and I knew you were the one, she’s fond of telling Sue, usually during fights. It’s highly annoying that Emily thinks it’d work on her. Even more annoying is the fact that it does.

Alright, does she have moments of intense déjà vu sometimes? Like when they’re lying in bed, after one of Austin’s house parties, and Sue curls up into Emily’s soft shoulders, plays with her pretty, pretty hands? Or when she catches Emily conked out in front of her laptop in a corner table at the café on her break and gently wakes her up? Sure. But isn’t that what love is? The same five gestures repeated in infinite ways, creating a well of infinite affection. So if walking the steps with Emily settles deep into her bones without flinching, as if they’ve done this before, she’s convinced that it’s because they’re well and truly perfect together.

(Definitely not because — and this is something that has been occurring to her more and more lately — they were star-crossed lovers in a past life a century ago.)

(That would be crazy.)

(Right?)

*****

Falling in love aside, Emily can be really, infuriatingly, secretive about the worst of things. Sometimes it is charming, watching her having to pick her way through multiple explanations, create long-winded detours just to attempt to confuse Sue into getting exasperated enough to drop the subject altogether. But that’s at the very end, when it turns out that she was going to all this trouble to make sure Sue wasn’t going to find out she’d gotten her that one Hawaiian shirt Sue had off-handedly admired once, aeons ago. Or that she’s been holed up in their room all day because she’s been setting up lights in honor of it being exactly six months since they first hugged. Which is why she is more resigned that surprised when Lavinia sits down in front of her, leans in, and asks her what she’s doing for Emily’s birthday next week.

Sue sneaks a look at Emily who is currently chatting with an old lady who usually comes in on the weekends. Her girlfriend happens to be one of those baristas who is beloved by the elderly, God only knows why. All the older ladies will hang back at the counter and tell her all about their grandkids’ schools and ballet recitals. In return, Emily will rant to them about college and apparently, Sue as well, which was something she discovered one day when she walked in and two old ladies gave her teasing yet approving smiles from their table.

(And then took her aside to whisper — Showing a little skin wouldn’t do any harm and would keep your girl on her toes — which near about killed her)

The entire situation is hilarious. Also the most adorable thing she has ever seen.

“Why haven’t you guys discussed your birthdays yet?”

“It’s just never,” Sue muses, “come up, I guess.”

Austin rollerblades past, swivels to a stop and bends so he’s approximately level with their faces. “Are we talking about,” he says, lowering his voice to a comical whisper, “Emily’s birthday?”

Lavinia pulls him down, so he’s sitting on the spare chair. “And Sue’s, apparently. Did you know her birthday falls, like, nine days after Emily’s?”

Austin stares at her, wide-eyed. “That means it’s on the.... 19th?

Sue nods.

“The 19th of December? After Emily’s birthday, on the 10th of December?”

“Y....es?”

He swipes at his phone, taps a couple of buttons, and then looks up with a smug smile. “I knew I remembered something. Look.”

Lavinia has to angle her whole body to see, but it registers for both of them at the same time. A certain poet and her muse, who also apparently shared the same birthday as her and Emily.

“Huh,” Lavinia says. “Maybe there is something to Emily’s theory after all.”

“You mean Emily’s theory that we’re the reincarnations of those two?” she asks, hearing her own voice get progressively more hysterical by the word. She clears her throat, takes a deep breath, adds it to the list of rapidly growing coincidences in her head that she’s never going to give a closer look to, because that would be crazy.

“Really the only part of this I’m genuinely shocked by,” Lavinia says after a long pause, in which Sue is struggling to reason with the logical part of her brain, “is that Austin remembers Emily Dickinson’s birthday.”

Austin smiles proudly, and the thought is so funny that it drives potential insanity out of her mind eventually.

*****

“Why didn’t you tell me your birthday’s tomorrow?”

Emily startles from where she’s staring out the window of the car, and Sue has about a moment to regret blurting it out before they’re looking at each other. She’d spent the entire week setting up the entire thing for Emily and now it probably won’t even be a surprise, but she’s insanely curious. No better time for it, either way. She’d planned everything perfectly, from picking up Emily at the café in the classy car she’d borrowed from Austin, to making sure it wasn’t too late after dinner. And yet, here they were, surrounded by cars and honking people because traffic was a fickle bitch.

“Is that why we’re taking this trip?” she asks, wide-eyed.

Sue extends a hand towards her, ruffles up her hair, feeling fond. Trust her idiot girlfriend to not have figured it out yet. She moves her hand to Emily’s cheek, and feels Emily cover it with her own. Feels a soft kiss pressed against her palm.

“What did you think it was, dumdum?”

“Well, it is the three month anniversary of—” Sue’s alarm is probably showing on her face, so she backtracks quickly. “Kidding. Kidding. There’s nothing tomorrow.”

Sue pinches at her cheek. “Except your birthday. Speaking of which—”

“Eh,” Emily shakes her head, shuffles around on her seat awkwardly, “it’s.... uh, complicated.”

“Is the complication that you happen to share a birthday with a poet from long ago?” she’s only half-joking.

Emily laughs at that. “Caught on, did you? Did you also check—”

“E-yup.”

“That your birthday is also—”

“E-yup,” she says. Then turns to look at Emily. “Wait. How do you know when my birthday is?”

Emily opens her mouth, but before she can say anything Sue hurriedly cuts in. “And you’re not allowed to say you have your ways.”

Years ago, when Sue was fourteen, one day her dad and her mom came home with the same vegetable. Same quantity. It was beans, and she could vividly remember all three of them staring down in mock dismay at the two separate huge bundles of beans that now took up most of the space on the table. Then they started comparing prices. Turns out her mother’s bundle had cost a couple cents lesser than her father’s. But it’s not the same , her mother had insisted, holding up both the bundles. See, yours weighs more. I think the grocer I bought it from took some off .

To this day, she defines love as the way her mother’s hand fell over his, combined with the way her dad looked at her next — like a child who had just been told that the blanket fort he’d spent hours constructing, wasn’t going to be torn down. Like someone had just handed a piece of the world to him, and told him to make of it whatever he wanted.

Sue recognizes it in the way Emily looks at her. Like she’s saying — Of course. Of course, you know me well enough to guess the next stupid thing that comes out of her mouth.

(She’s not very good at love, but she hopes Emily can read the answer in her eyes just the same)

“Birthdays are complicated,” Emily says, slowly. “I’ve had some very good ones and then some very bad ones.” First girlfriend who she asked out on her 20th birthday, and second girlfriend who she broke up with a week before her 23rd; Sue fills in the blanks as she talks. “So I guess I try not to tell people so I myself don’t expect anything out of it. Neutral birthdays are better than euphoric ones or sad ones, because at least they don’t haunt me forever.”

“Baby,” she says, and then trails off. Sometimes she likes calling Emily endearments, or just say her name out loud, randomly, even if there’s no statement attached to it. The sentiment’s always the same, however. I’m glad you exist. I’m glad you found me. I like your name. I love you.

(Emily’s fallen asleep by the time she’s driven to the top of the grassy knoll, by the time the clock hits midnight. Sue lets her sleep through it. There will be time to sit on top of the blanket and watch a sleepy Emily blow out the candles on a tiny cake that looks like a typewriter, to stare at the stars all night long while they listen to soft, slow songs on a pair of shared earphones. For now, Sue watches Emily sleep, head tilted against the glass and decides to hold off on telling her she loves her until the day after her birthday. It’s a perfectly neutral birthday. No use in spoiling it.)

(Emily says it back though, in case anyone was wondering)

*****

Sometimes, when Sue sees Emily cooking for her, she loses her breath.

(And sometimes, it’s not even due to the smoke from a burned dish)

But there’s something peaceful about watching Emily cook, especially if she hasn’t yet cottoned onto the fact that Sue’s watching her. She’s one of those annoying people who always has their headphones on, so most of her cooking in the kitchen involves perfectly timing the beats with the swipes of her spatula. Sometimes she spins around in the middle of a pancake flip to see if she can catch it in midair. Juvenile shenanigans aside, what really gets Sue, even after almost a year of having watched Emily dance around in the kitchen is the care with which she handles food that they will eat. It’s so different to the kind of food she cooks when she’s just cooking for herself. Sue’s seen her slap on two days expired cheese on top of a tortilla and call it lunch. And yet.

And yet. Sue will have the best of things. Lasagna that’s still steaming. A sandwich filled with the most delicious ingredients. Waffles topped with cream that Emily will get up early in the morning to get for her. Food enhanced with care, made better with love.

Why don’t you make those nice things for yourself, she’s asked on multiple occasions, to which Emily’s always shrugged. It’s just me. I can have almost anything.

(Emily deserves the best. Sue will make sure she has it)

There are flowers on the table, an assortment of daffodils and lilies arranged on a vase. Right in between two shiny plates laid out with napkins folded carefully beside them. Sue slides into one of the chairs quietly, rests her elbows on the table and waits for Emily to finally turn around.

There is a panicked scream when she does. Sue doesn’t want to be that girlfriend, but this is definitely going on the list of stories she’ll tell their future kids when they’ve grown.

(Another day she would worry about how the term — Their kids — moves around in her chest comfortably like a sip of hot cocoa. Today, exactly one year to the day Emily told her she liked her, she shrugs it off)

“You weren’t supposed to wake up for another half an hour at least.”

Sue hums. “You did tire me out last night, that is true.”

“Sue!” Emily says, scandalized, face rapidly turning red. “I — that’s highly — okay wait, first things first....”

She walks over to the table, and bends to kiss Sue.

“Happy anniversary.”

Sue closes her eyes, kisses both her cheeks in response. “Happy anniversary, my love.”

Emily grins back, then stands again. “Either way,” she says, as she ladles soup onto a bowl, and gathers multiple plates on a tray to subsequently bring to the table, “brunch! Courtesy of your beautiful girlfriend who finally managed to figure out how to make the perfect chicken pot pie without burning down the house, or worse, giving you salmonella.”

Sue inspects what lies in front of her. “Babe, this looks amazing.”

Emily looks proud, as she sits on the other chair. “And that’s not all, okay? This is just the start. Today evening I have gotten us both tickets to—”

“Move in with me.”

When Emily blinks, Sue startles. The words that had just come out of her mouth definitely weren’t well-thought-out, but now she was thinking about it and it seemed like all she ever wanted in life. To go to sleep with Emily, and wake her up in time for her morning classes, to be able to see her all the time, and not have to watch her go.

“That wasn’t my gift, by the way,” she adds, speaking fast, thinking of the limited-edition original copies of a book she’d driven five hours to the next town to get. “But it’s what I want. Us. Living together. I love you. We should.... uh, live together so — uh, okay Emily make me stop talking please.”

Emily shuts her up with a kiss. When they separate, she stays close to Sue, looking right into her eyes with that soft, soft expression.

“Are you sure?” she asks.

Sue takes in a deep breath. Nods. “Yeah.”

Emily considers that for a moment. Then says with a teasing smile — “I thought this violated your relationship rules.”

“What ae you—”

“No kissing before the second date. No celebrating six-month anniversaries because that’s for dummies. No moving in before at least two years of dating—”

“And if you remember correctly,” Sue cuts in, smoothly, “I kissed you two days before our first date. And serenaded you with a Taylor Swift song at the café on our six-month anniversary.”

“You did do that,” Emily says, quietly.

“And as long as we’re on the subject, I hate staying up past 11, or listening to sad girl music in the car, or watching that horrendous show about those two annoying men fake-dating,” Sue tells her, “but — it is my greatest honor that I get to do that for you. And with you. Emily, if you haven’t figured it out already, you’re kinda the exception to every single one of my rules.”

Sue reads Emily’s answer in the kiss she receives next.

*****

The middle, the middle, everything boils down to the middle. It’s what Sue sometimes hears Emily muttering to herself in the middle of the night when she has an assignment due the next day. Sue will blink, look over to the desk where Emily is planted with her nightlight on, hands in her hair. Sometimes Sue will keep blinking slowly, taking in the sight of Emily typing until she falls asleep. Sometimes Emily will notice that she’s up, walk over to the bed, and hum snippets of songs until she’s drifting off again.

And for all the beauty of the beginning, of first kisses and first dates and first times, there’s something to be said about the fifteenth time Emily plays her something on the ukulele, warning her beforehand that her voice might crack. Or the sixtieth burger she runs across the campus to hand over to Emily when she knows she’s got back-to-back classes scheduled. About the hundredth time she falls into bed, and scooches over, eyes closed, until Emily’s wriggling body is aligned against hers. There’s peace in knowing that a first time will inevitably lead to a second time, and then countless others.

(There’s peace in knowing the middle lasts the longest)

*****

She knows she’s in trouble. Has known she’s in trouble the minute she came out of the store and discovered that there was a pileup on the highway. And then when Lavinia called her panicking because their house-warming slash house party was getting out of control because of a lack of beer and a general overabundance of Austin. And then when her phone died in the middle of her conversation with Emily.

(So much trouble)

She’s exhausted by the time she makes it back to her apartment (their apartment , she corrects herself, smiling at the thought) and makes her way up the stairs, hearing the volume of the music increase with every step. Opens the door and is assailed with extremes — the tiny sparkling mirror ball someone’s managed to hook up to the ceiling, the dancing crowd in their living room, and a very loud and weirdly on-point Austin making guitar noises on the karaoke microphone.

“Lavinia!” Sue calls out in relief, when she catches sight of her. “Where’s Emily?”

Lavinia excuses herself from a group of frat boys hanging onto her every word and walks over. “Sue! Emily!”

“Yeah, I know! Tell me where she is!��

Sue points towards the ceiling, and in the same smooth motion, grabs the crate of beer from her hands.

Sue’s out of there before the first cry of “Beer” permeates the air. She climbs another two floors, and then the metallic ladder to find Emily sitting there, wrapped in her blanket, glaring up at her.

“You promised,” she says, flatly.

Sue drops onto her knees and takes Emily’s cold hands in hers. “I know.”

“No, you,” Emily repeats, then pauses, looking like she’s struggling, “you promised you were gonna be here, okay? I agreed to the housewarming thing only because you told me there wouldn’t be many people and you’d stay with me the whole time—”

“—baby....”

“No, don’t baby me. Let me finish.” Emily waits until Sue nods. “And then you went off to the store.”

“We ran out of beer,” Sue says, feeling sheepish.

“I know — I know that, okay?” Emily says. “I know there’s a reason, and probably a valid one but I’m mad, okay? You promised me something and then bailed. That’s not cool.”

Sue adjusts so she’s properly sitting down right in front of Emily. “I’m sorry,” she says, and means it. “It was inexcusable.”

Emily sighs, and seems to relax a little. “Okay. Thank you for saying that.”

Sue nods. “Some party, huh?” she says, after a while.

Emily smiles a little, then. “Did you see Austin? He was performing the High School Musical songs when I left.”

She laughs. “When I came in, I think he was doing the guitar riff to Bohemian Rhapsody.”

“Hey,” Emily says, after they’re done giggling at that. “I never asked. What took you so long? I thought you just went to get beer.”

“Uh,” Sue says, “I’d rather not tell you.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because I don’t wanna charm my way out of you being mad at me.”

“Oh,” Emily draws the sound out, teasingly. “It can’t possibly be that charming.”

If she wanted to play it this way, then okay.

“I stopped at an animal shelter on the way home. There’s a young cat there I thought we could adopt. Consider her a housewarming present.”

“Oh,” Emily says, then in an undertone. “Damn it.”

“Charmed?”

“Ugh, fuck, okay,” Emily admits, then pulls at their joined hands till Sue gets on top of her lap. “I hate you. I love you, but I hate you.”

Sue kisses her in return, settles in more comfortably.

“Tell me about her?” Emily asks, softly, in the quiet.

“Well, she chased the light reflected off my watch round and round so it’s safe to say she’s not the brightest.”

“I love her already,” Emily assures her.

*****

On her eve of her 25th birthday, Sue walks into her apartment and finds Emily, Lavinia and Austin panicking over how to fit the last half of her last name onto limited space on a handmade banner. She says hi to Juggers and Iguana, their two cats, then picks up their two-month-old puppy Rooney, all before one of the three already present humans in the room realizes she’s there.

“Sue, I’m so sorry,” Emily says, walking over to her and looking at her with a slightly desperate look in her eyes. “We tried baking cake, but it’s half burnt, but we can’t decide what to get and all we have are balloons but then Austin’s going crazy trying to keep Juggers from bursting them, because guess what? The cat is the devil—”

“—babe—”

“—no, I tried to make it a good birthday, I really did!”

She puts her hands on either side of Emily’s face, which forces her to quiet down. Then she looks over at the others.

“Have you guys been here the entire time I was taking classes?”

They nod.

She feels a little overwhelmed. “Guys, I — thank you so much,” she says, then takes stock of the situation. “Can you order pizza? We’ll ring in my birthday with pizza tonight.”

Lavinia side-hugs her on their way out to the couch, and then they’re alone in the kitchen. She kisses Emily on the forehead, then on both cheeks, trying to drive away the frown.

“What?”

“I just wanted you to have a good birthday,” Emily says, despondent.

“You’re here, aren’t you?” Sue says. “And so are our friends, who sat and worked this hard for hours trying to make me happy. And we’ll have pizza! We like pizza.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“No, you idiot” Sue explains, fondly. “I mean it. We’ll have burned cake, and we’ll fight over the pizza, and even if the animals are outnumbered, we’ll probably lose to them. And then we’ll probably watch a movie, and somehow all fall asleep on the carpet because Austin always claims the whole couch. Either way, it’ll be a good birthday, because I’m happy. And you know why I’m happy?”

Emily’s still pouting.

“Emily, why am I happy?”

“Because we’re together,” Emily completes, in a small voice, and then finally, finally smiles.

(It’s the messiest birthday Sue has ever had. Also the best)

*****

Here’s the thing about endings: everyone who writes stories knows they don’t really exist.

A famous author once said that they weren’t really the end of the story, just where you chose to stop it. Well, Sue agrees. Which is why this story in her head never ends. The imaginary typewriter in her head will keep typing long after, filling pages with anniversaries and birthdays and emergency dog adoptions. Maybe the next page talks about the day Sue breaks her arm, and Emily proposes to her with an onion ring she gets out of the hospital vending machine. Or the day Lavinia loses Rooney, walks around the entire block with Austin to find him and finally discovers he’s hanging out at the old café they used to work at.

So. Yes. This is where she decides to leave it. Finish it. There will be more stories to write later.

The end.

(Wink wink. Nudge nudge.)

#dickinson #emisue #fanfiction #emily dickinson #dickinson fanfiction #alright - so this is a modern emisue domestic fic about them being happy and in love or whatever bullshit people in love do #and technically it's a sequel to my first dickinson fic - although i don't thikn it's necessary to read that first to understand this #i've been working on this a while - so i hope you guys like it #also i made anohter playlist to vibe - think i'll put it in a reblog just in case anyone wants to check that out #and yeah #that's it i guess #happy reading!

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