#granted it's a suite but still like paying that much

[colossrat]

superbat?

It took me a while to think about them, sorry-- and at the moment I think I'm pretty influenced by the young Batman with eye makeup who still doesn't know how to deal with a crowd, plus Clark Kent, the Daily Planet intern who isn't Superman yet and has trouble dealing with the big city stuff

Clark, a young man who just joined the Daily Planet, and Bruce, who just returned to Gotham after years of barely interacting with another human being :D also clark is not superman yet and bruce is not brucie yet

Clark recently moved to Metropolis and, despite the challenges, remains optimistic. He’s working as an intern at the Daily Planet, and that’s a big achievement for him! But he wants more, he doesn’t want to just sort papers and serve coffee. So, he embraces every journalism opportunity he can to prove to his superiors that he’s good at what he does.

But that leads him to cover for Cat Grant at a gala and he was in no way ready for that.

His day overall had been terrible. Besides adjusting to the big city, it was hectic at the office and he hadn’t had time to eat anything. Even though he doesn’t need to eat to survive, it’s a way he deals with anxiety and helps him feel a little more human. But at this gala, there’s only rich-people food! Tiny portions of weird, expensive things. He doesn’t like that. he prefers homemade food, meals made with love or at least with fewer pesticides and edible paints.

Cat Grant made him wear a suit, which didn’t seem so bad at first. But inside the large ballroom full of local celebrities, he realized how faded and outdated his suit looked. He felt like everyone in the room knew his sock had a hole in it and was silently judging him.

He’s feeling pseudo-hungry, awkward, and of course it gets worse. He keeps tripping over people’s feet or bumping into shoulders. But come on! Can you blame him?! He’s a farm boy, he’s a big guy, and these people around him have zero spatial awareness. Not only do they keep bumping into him, they don’t even apologize, just look at him like he’s some dirty stray dog. And it doesn’t take long for him to start feeling that way too.

His super hearing, which he usually prides himself on being able to control, won’t stop expanding without his consent, catching snippets of conversations directed at him, about his clothes, his posture, how awkward and oversized he is, how he seems out of place, questioning who invited him, whether he’s even a real reporter or just crashed the event… Everything becomes too much when he hears some voices getting a little too personal about his body.

“He’s awkward, sure, but look at that tan! I’d pay triple whatever he makes just to have him work in my garden.”

“Haha, true. If you stripped off that boring suit, those glasses, and, well, if he stopped acting like such a droopy puppy, he’d be kind of cute.”

Enough!

Clark bolted from the ballroom as fast as he could. He couldn’t take it anymore. The cacophony of cruel, shrill voices mocking him overstimulated every sense. The fabric of his suit felt like it was burning his skin with embarrassment, and he wanted nothing more than to take off his glasses and throw them off the balcony where he found himself.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t afford a new pair. So he gently removed his glasses and buried his face in his hands, groaning as hot tears streamed from his eyes.

One moment, he was crying in frustration; the next, he spun around abruptly, startled by a calloused hand resting on his shoulder.

When he turned, he was surprised to see a man a little shorter than him, slimmer, and though the deep eye bags were hidden with makeup, he had a graceful, elegant look.

The man didn’t seem to know what to say, he simply offered Clark a handkerchief with a gentle gesture.

“No need to be ashamed. I know how suffocating these events can be,” was all the man said, his voice rough, like even speaking was something outside his daily routine.

Clark didn’t know why, but he chuckled softly at the interaction. He accepted the handkerchief and wiped his cheeks. Not that it helped much, as the tears kept falling.

He took a little more time to study the man. His suit was a deep black, though rumpled. He didn’t seem to have brought anything with him… Maybe he was a waiter?

“Did you come out here to hide from the rude old ladies too?” Clark asked, and that got a small smile from the man. Even though it was subtle, it felt like a lot coming from him, and so it made Clark happy.

They stayed out on that balcony for quite some time. The stranger tried to cheer Clark up in his own way, gossiping about the socialites inside, pointing out who had a fake purse, who was cheating on whom, and who was secretly broke.

They talked about how awful and noisy these parties were. Clark learned that the man was still adjusting to this lifestyle and often stepped outside for air, and even though he liked being alone, Clark was good company. Very polite, too! My god, how rude those other rich people were.

Eventually, Clark sighed and said he needed to head back in to get some quotes. He’d calmed down from the earlier panic but was hesitant to leave the man behind. Still, Cat would kill him if he didn’t get a quote from the guest of honor. Bruce Wayne, thought to be dead after his disappearance, was making a surprise appearance at tonight’s gala.

“I could give you a quote, if you want,” the man offered. If Clark dared to guess, he’d say the man was nervous about offering it.

Clark thought it was a joke and decided to play along, pulling out the little notebook he always carried and readying his pen. The man cleared his throat, straightened his posture, and began to speak seriously about business issues, local politics, and respecting loyal clients. He spoke so well and with such confidence that Clark actually wrote it all down. Felt like a waste of good words not to.

“And whose name should I put with this quote?” Clark asked, realizing that throughout their whole conversation, he hadn’t once asked the man’s name. How rude of him! But maybe the man would forgive the slip… Clark had really enjoyed their interaction, and after all the crying, he felt bold enough to add, “Do you think I could get your number too? To talk more later?”

Clark saw the man’s eyes light up with a glimmer, then shift to confusion, then realization, and finally red spread across his cheeks.

“You really don’t know who I am?” he asked softly. Clark felt shame hit him like a brick wall, he should have asked for this man’s name earlier!

“Bruce Wayne,” he added, and it made all of Clark’s thoughts freeze.

They looked at each other for a few seconds, the realization hitting Clark like a kryptonite rock, while Bruce looked more amused than he had all night.

Clark was so stunned he didn’t resist when Bruce took the notebook and pen from his hands, scribbling a number before handing them back.

“It’s nice to know the Daily Planet is hiring such polite people these days. For most of our conversation, I thought you were just being nice to me for the quote…” he explained like it was nothing.

Clark felt his cheeks heat up too. He let out a small laugh as he adjusted his glasses, trying to hide the giddy smile on his face while looking down at the phone number.

“You’re the first rich person who didn’t treat me like crap today too,” he said without thinking, nerves bubbling back up again. He quickly shut his mouth in embarrassment, while Bruce simply laughed, covering his mouth as he looked the reporter over again.

They exchanged a few more words, Clark feeling like a doofus and Bruce assuring him it was fine.

Eventually, they had to part ways, but after spending the whole evening talking so easily, neither of them could shake the feeling that the next time they talked, it was going to be the best conversation of all

[annwrites]

⸻being billy's best friend, who he's in love with, would include:

· ꒰a/n꒱: fem!reader | gif

The day you meet Billy is his first day at Hawkins High.

You're assigned as his cute lil' tour guide, who's supposed to show him around the school—making sure he knows his ins & outs, & has all his ducks in a row before leaving him to his own devices.

He doesn't pay much attention to what you're saying, however. He's far more focused on watching your backside sway as you flit from classroom to classroom, and veer around various corners, babbling and pointing things out, which you deem to be of interest, all the while.

You're a sweet, studious little thing, he gauges right away. If you weren't, the principal wouldn't have specially picked you for the job of metaphorically holding his hand as he catches his bearings from the absolute sense of whiplash this podunk town has given him.

He's been here only a handful of days, & already he despises it. But, as he observes you with a smirk, he thinks there might be a couple things worth paying notice to.

"So," you chirp while turning back to him with a swaying skirt. "Do you have any questions so far?"

Billy trails his eyes along your feminine form, drinking in even the most minute of details. He takes a small step forward, while you remain rooted, and he presses a callused palm to the painted brick wall behind you while gazing at your flushed face from beneath hooded lids, framed by long, dark lashes. "Mhm. Just a couple," he says while idly chewing his gum.

You blink up at him. "Fire away."

He gives a light shrug, then tenderly runs the back of his index finger down the soft skin of your arm. "Just wonderin' what you all do for fun around here, doll."

You grant him a smile which radiates warmth. He then wonders if you're this personable to everyone, or if his sexual allure is to thank for having such a pleasant time at your side this sunny Monday morning.

"Well, there's a few things. During the summer, most people go to Hawkin's Pool. There's also the Starcourt Mall for shopping, and it has a small movie theater on the third floor. Speaking of movies, we also have a drive-in that's about twenty minutes from here, as well as Hawkin's Video for rentals. Oh, and the Hawkin's Arcade, as well as a roller-rink. The latter-most is my personal favorite."

The more you drone on, the more his interests wane. This place really is a lackluster shithole.

The hell is an arcade in comparison to the goddamn ocean, anyway? Sometimes, if he concentrates hard enough, he can still feel soft grains of buttery-brown sand sifting between his toes, and the incandescence of the sun's rays soaking into his pores as he stands on the damp shore before wading into gentle, lapping waves.

But each time he opens his eyes, it's always to a rude awakening of a small town full of morons and cow shit.

"You like the rink, huh?" he inquires, trying to glean a scrap of information about your personal interests to better suit his flirtatious ways when he inevitably makes a pass at you.

You nod enthusiastically, causing his pink lips to twitch in amusement. Bubbly, he muses. Adorable.

"Well," he begins while smoothly tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. "Maybe we can make that our first date. Say," he bobs his head from side-to-side. "Friday night?"

Your eyes bloom wide and he grants you a wolfish smile, thinking he has you.

"You just got here," you blurt out, prompting a snort from his wide, freckled nose.

"Well," he says with a salacious lick of his lips, which leaves them glistening beneath fluorescent overhead bulbs. "Just thought maybe you wouldn't want to stop being my own personal tour-guide with just the school. Maybe we could take our own private trip around town, too."

He comes even closer, ready to strike. "I've got my own car. A Chevy Camaro. Ever been in one?"

You chew your lip for a moment, and he grants you the time to mull it over, knowing you'll cave. They all do. Being Billy Hargrove means always getting what he wants. When it comes to attractive women, at least.

He thinks this, until you turn and begin heading down the hall once more, expecting him to follow behind like a lost, obedient puppy. "Your fifth period class is this way."

Meanwhile, Billy remains where he is, staring after you, quickly cooling, while wondering what the hell just happened.

Billy quickly deems you a challenge meant to be overcome & conquered.

You're precocious & exuberant—sometimes annoyingly-so—but he also finds it endearing.

Not that a dark storm cloud such as he would ever admit to thinking as much.

Honestly, you seem so oblivious to his carnal interests in you that he begins to wonder if maybe you're just into chicks instead.

Billy leans a broad shoulder against the locker beside your own while studying you. "So, what is it, then? I don't have the right equipment for you?"

You glance to him with a raised brow, curious as to what he's talking about. "Hm?"

He leans in, enveloping you in his signature scent of pungent tobacco, sharp mint chewing gum, and oaky cologne. You find it a bit dizzying. "You batting for the other team?" he explains slowly with a creased brow.

You flush. "No."

"So you like guys?" he presses.

You turn back to your locker and step onto the base of it so that you can reach a purple notebook on the top shelf. "Yes."

He frowns in indignation. "So it's just me that doesn't do it for you?"

You blanche and slam the top of your head off of the metal bar above you before stumbling down while clutching at your injured scalp with your free hand. "Ow..."

He smirks. "Need me to kiss it and make it better, baby?"

You brush your shoulder against the door to your locker, shutting it securely. "We could just try being friends, y'know? Just because we're each of the opposite sex doesn't inherently mean something more has to develop."

He raises a well-groomed brow. "I don't do friends, sweetheart."

You cock your head to the side. "How come?"

He comes up short when he finds himself lacking for a halfway-decent answer that isn't too intimate, thus leaving him open to mockery. Not that he really thinks you that sort of girl.

Because I don't do attachment, is the reply which floats to the forefront of his mind, but he can't speak such a sentiment aloud.

"I know what I'm after. Hanging out at the arcade ain't it."

You smile. A gesture which is meant to put him at ease, but the look in your willful eyes says otherwise—like that he shouldn't have opened this can of worms in the first place. "We don't have to go to the arcade. We could just drive around town, go to the park, or—"

He barks a laugh. "So we can have a sweet little picnic together? Sure sounds like a date to me."

"Not if we don't label it as one. Context is important, y'know?" you insist.

He feels adrift right now. You actually want to be his friend. He hasn't had that yet. Not here, at least. Not for...a long while, really, if he's being truthful.

He's developed quite the adept hand at not only keeping people at arm's-length, but willing them away at any given moment when he senses that they're verging into delicate territory he refuses to allow them permittance to. Such as into his heart, or the house he lives in. Or matters of his childhood.

It's easier to maintain the particular crafted image he's designed of himself that way—if he remains an enigma. Besides, chicks like mystery.

Except you, apparently. Pain in his ass that you are, even if you don't mean to be.

But this is you opening a door for him, and inviting him into your life, while simultaneously asking to be a part of his. Does he really want to reject the offer you've extended?

Does he want to keep being alone?

He decides that he can always renege later if he comes to regret this—just blow up in your face in a fit of anger, thus pushing you out, and away, for good.

"Fine. But I'm not doing some damn picnic."

You beam up at him, and he wants nothing more than to lay one on you.

He knows then that keeping his anger under wraps isn't going to be a source of concern with you, but wrestling control of something else which lies just below the belt will.

Billy Hargrove is absolutely fuckin' pussy-whipped.

And he's not even getting any, is the worst part.

The two of you have spent an innumerable amount of time together the last few weeks.

All because being with you is so intoxicating.

Because you're so goddamn nice to him—sweet, even. Just not on him, unfortunately.

He still makes passes at you every now and again, but you usually just brush it off or give him a look which says, quite plainly 'I know what you're doing, William Hargrove, and it's not going to work'.

He doesn't give up, though.

He ain't no quitter.

Nevertheless, he looks forward to seeing you.

Every. Single. Day.

He put an end to you needing to take the bus that first evening, after the discussion at your locker where he tentatively agreed to be your friend.

He'd caught sight of your dress disappearing through a crowd of obnoxious kids.

So, he followed along, wanting to stake a public claim.

Not that you saw it as that, innocent thing that you are.

Just as you were heading up the steps of the rumbling yellow bus which would drive you away, he gripped your hand in his and pulled, sending you tumbling backward into his chest as he hauled you—his strong fingers laced between your own—across the lot and to his car.

He didn't open the door for you, though.

Nor did he understand why he'd been so damn eager to race out the front entrance of the school in search of you in the first place.

Maybe because for the first time in a long time, he felt happy or excited about something—anything. Excited that...someone finally wants him around.

That a girl does. For more than just sex; his body.

And so he's been practically glued to your fuckin' side since then.

The first handful of days, he tried to keep a healthy distance, figuring you'd either finally give in to his irresistible charisma, or you'd grow bored of spending time with him because he's not something you're used to. After all, you already have a life here. Garnering familiarity with a stranger takes effort. Especially him.

Instead, however, you've given him your undivided attention.

He walks you to each of your classes, sits with you at lunch—playfully stealing items off your tray, but always nonchalantly & inconspicuously easing his own between the two of you, so as to ensure that you have enough to eat.

He drives you to and from school—even bothering to wait for you by the passenger door of the Camaro some mornings—golden curls hanging over his forehead as he pops your door open for you and shuts it gently behind you.

The two of you develop a sort of routine.

You educate yourselves on the other's mannerisms and habits.

"Knock it off."

Your lip twitches as you press the window down button again.

"Keep it up and I'll pull over right now."

Zzzzzip goes the window, inviting a tepid breeze in.

Billy sighs exasperatedly while shifting gears. "I should bend you over the hood of the car and spank you until your ass is raw for the way you're gettin' under my skin right now."

The window is then returned to its previous state of being submerged within the top seal, and Billy fills to the brim with disappointment.

Sometimes, he thinks you do shit just to be a tease; to rile him.

Like the Friday evening he came inside your house with you after school so you could change before you dragged him to the roller-rink.

You'd told him you'd just be a minute, but he had opted for being naughty instead when he snuck inside your room and silently watched you strip.

He hadn't anticipated that you would be changing everything, however, until you hooked your thumbs under the waistband of your panties and they pooled around your feet on the vacuumed carpeted floor.

When you turned to head for your dresser to retrieve a fresh pair, you had shrieked in terror at the sight of him watching you before falling backwards into your closet, sending a cascade of sweaters and dresses down upon you.

He'd meant to make you aware of his presence, but once you were nearly naked, the words got caught in his throat.

But your display had been unexpectedly hilarious—like something out of a damn comedy movie—so he began to laugh. Full on cackling and snorting. He even blew a snot bubble as he doubled over onto the floor.

Initially, you were fuming as you emerged from your makeshift pile of polyester and cotton—looking like a pissed-off kitten—until you saw how happy he was.

And you softened in an instant.

He never laughs. And all his smiles seem so empty all too often. So, to see the rare sight of him filled with joy...it filled you with love and blooming warmth between your breasts.

As you crawled toward him—still pantyless—his guffawing turned, instead, into an occasional chuckle.

He dragged you between his legs, then shrugged off his jacket, draping it over your bare shoulders before kissing your forehead and apologizing for spying.

Even if he by no means tried to seem genuine about it. Because he wasn't.

Having the knowledge that he was the first and only man to have seen you like that changed something within him.

He became...far more protective after that day.

Possessive, even.

Billy flops back onto your bed while gazing up at your gauzy white canopy, and he reminiscences on the first time you invited him in with a smile.

You'd cheerily shown him around the house while holding his hand—he appreciates how soft and smooth your skin is in comparison to his own—pointing out favorite knick-knacks and such here and there, before explaining how your dad recently remodeled the bathroom across from your room, and how you tried, quite poorly, to help by nearly knocking over a bucket of paint while dancing to pop music on the radio.

It had sounded like something you would've done.

And then you'd led him into your bedroom, thus causing his heart to lodge itself in his throat at the vision of the appealing downy bed found in the middle of it, piled high with pillows, and shoved against the wall to the right.

As he stared, and wrapped his mind around just how girly and cleanly and organized you are, you gushed about all your decorations and how you just adored one of your records, simply because it's pink and heart-shaped.

He had wanted to kiss you so fucking badly that day. Had wanted to lie you back on your bed, after slowly undressing you, before teaching you everything he could about the pleasure that can be had from a female body.

He's already aware just how overly-sensitive your own is.

He discovered as much one Saturday while tickling you relentlessly on the floor until you were breathless and giddy with giggles. He only ceased when you began to keen, begging him to stop before you wet yourself.

Finally, you emerge from your closet—he had promised he wouldn't watch this time—while holding up two different dresses.

"Which one?"

This is what he had meant about you being a tease.

You're clad in only panties and a sheer bra, which has everything practically on display between its decorative lace pattern.

He swallows thickly while feeling an erection swelling in his jeans.

"You tell me 'just friends', then stand in front of me like that," he hisses from a sense of building frustration.

You blink ignorantly, then glance down, as if you've forgotten the fact that you're not wearing any clothes. "Woops."

He crosses his arms with a frown. "I'm supposed to fuckin' buy that?"

You lift your head again. "You've already seen everything, anyway. And I've changed in front of girlfriends before. You're my best friend now, so—"

"I am?" he interrupts, taken aback.

You nod—the dresses bouncing in your grip. "Yes. We spend all our time together. Do you not...consider me yours?" you ask apprehensively.

He stands while shaking his head lightly, but not in reply to your question. Rather, more in a 'what am I going to do with you?' sort of way. He fingers the hem of a dark blue dress with little white flowers printed across the material.

"You know I'm not gay, right? I don't give a shit about fashion." His heated gaze bores into your own. "You could go naked for all I care."

You roll your eyes.

"Actually, scratch that," he says, continuing. "Because the only one who gets to see that much of you is me."

You open your mouth to reply, until he takes the blue dress from you, letting the hanger dangle from his finger. "This one."

Billy spends nearly all of his time at your house now.

Initially, his dad was up his ass about where he was taking off to all the time.

Billy had feared he'd get himself locked up if his old man even attempted at keeping the two of you apart.

It's like you're a piece of him now. The one he hadn't known he'd been missing, until you fell squarely into place in his directionless life.

As such, he refuses to let anything come between the pair of you.

When he informed him that it was a friend that he was donating all his time to, Neil had cut him deep by sneering 'What friend? Last I checked, boy, hardly anybody wants you around."

His words always hurt so much worse than his fists.

"Shouldn't be a problem that I'm away from home more often now, then. Should it?"

Neil had stalked closer, causing Billy to shrink into himself like a frightened little boy.

"What friend?" he'd spat.

"A girl from school."

"Another one of your fuckin' whores you keep on the side, huh?"

For the first time since he was young, Billy stood at full height, finally seeing just how many inches he has on him. He puffed out his chest and stared him down before stepping forward, and forward, and forward, Neil being the one to stare at him in fear.

"Don't you ever fucking call her that again."

Billy has been reticent in disclosing his home life to you.

Partly because he’s so envious of your own.

That you and your parents are the proper definition of a ‘nuclear family’.

Your mother is just as kind as you—he comes to quickly see where you inherited your temperament from—while the both of you are, without quarrel, your dad’s whole world.

Hell, your old man even helps Billy change his oil once.

Not that he actually needed the help—he’s done it numerous times on his own—but it had been…much appreciated, nonetheless.

He always looks forward to being home with you.

Billy emerges from the bathroom—your dad really did do a great remodeling job on it, while you and your mother’s feminine touches can be noticed right down to the bar of soap he just used—to hear you rummaging around in the kitchen.

Billy clears the corner, then leans against the entryway to the sun-drenched room you stand in, watching with a sense of relaxation as you place a nonstick pan on the stove-top. You glance to him then while fixing your hair into a ponytail. “Are you hungry, baby?”

His heart fuckin’ stops.

No one has called him that since…

Since…

That simple pet name alone is enough to nearly bring him to tears.

His ocean-blue eyes sting with them, but he forces them back, along with the lump in his throat.

To make it somehow worse, you didn’t even say it in a flirtatious way.

It was just…in a…hell, in a sugar-sweet maternal way.

Finally, Billy nods shyly. “I could eat.”

You open the fridge then. “Is grilled cheese okay?”

He smiles slightly while vibrating from nerves. “Sounds perfect.”

You begin doing it more: referring to him by terms of endearment.

At first, he wonders if you’re finally flirting back.

But, terrified that if he makes any sort of comment about it, you’ll permanently cease this new behavior, he keeps his mouth shut.

He gets antsy when it gets to being awhile between you referring to him as ‘baby’, ‘sweetie’, ‘sweetheart’, etc, however.

Honestly, he can get down-right cranky about it.

Like some spoiled snot-nosed little brat who’s not getting his way.

But when you ask him why he’s being moody, he never lets on the real reason.

He typically just makes up easy-to-swallow bullshit excuses.

You turn the dial for the radio down before turning toward Billy with furrowed brows.

He braces for a barrage of questions: Is he feeling okay? Is he hungry? Does he need something? Did you do something which upset him (as if you could ever)?

But even your mini-inquisitions make him feel better all on their own; a sign that you care. That you worry after him.

“Are you sure that you’re okay, baby?”

His lip twitches and he fills with a small sense of satisfaction.

“Just fine, doll,” he replies coolly while loosening his grip on the steering wheel and unclenching his jaw. Even his taught shoulders sag.

“So,” Billy says while capturing one of your checker pieces. “Guess who’s trying out for the basketball team at school next week?”

Your head shoots up. “Really?” you ask with excited astonishment.

“Mhm,” he hums, trying to play it off with a casual shrug. “Wanted to know if my little good-luck charm would come and sit on the bleachers so I have a better chance of making the team.”

He lifts his head while pinning you in-place from beneath his lashes. “If I get drafted, I could give you one of my extra jerseys to wear to all our games.”

Because you’re the only one I can count on coming, he thinks, but absolutely does not say.

You stare at him for a moment—you can certainly be a bit of a space-cadet sometimes; not that he doesn’t find it charming when he catches you occasionally gazing across the room at nothing while he presumes elevator music is playing in your head—and then you launch yourself across the board game between the two of you while tackling him down onto your fluffy pink rug, sending checker pieces scattering across the carpet.

You pepper his face with tiny kisses and a luxuriant smile forms upon his lips at the affection you’re granting him without reserve.

You’ve never been one to hold back when it comes to showering him with love and kindness.

Finally, you pull back while smoothing tangled curls from his forehead. “I’m so proud of you for putting yourself out there, sweetie.”

He slides his hands down your waist. “You’ll come then?”

You press your forehead to his. “Of course.”

You reassured him numerous times that whether he’s chosen or not, you’re immeasurably proud of him.

But he wants this. Not necessarily because he’s hyper-passionate about the sport itself, but because without surfing…lifting weights only does so much to keep his body in-shape and his mind focused.

Because when he allows it to drift, it’s always to thoughts of inevitably losing you.

Do you still not want more? Do you not…feel what he does when you’re alone together?

He’s tried to force some sort of emotive reaction from you in varying ways as of recent, to see if this…feeling is truly one-sided.

Like inviting you over one afternoon—an extreme rarity that he opts for his house instead of yours—and popping a movie in the VHS player before suddenly ‘getting bored’ twenty minutes in and deciding to lift weights right in front of you instead. While shirtless, no less.

Billy flexes his abs while putting on quite the show…that you’re not even lending your attention to.

“Thinkin’ I should up how much I’m lifting,” Billy grunts while curling a steel bar toward his slick chest.

You turn your head in his direction and stare at him with mild interest. “Oh?”

He bites his lower lip while assuring his stance—hoping he looks like a delectable piece of eye-candy. “Seventy just doesn’t give me much of a challenge anymore. Maybe I should go for ninety.”

“You could look at yard sales.”

He settles the weight back on his bench press. “Huh?”

“For new weights. I think people sometimes sell them at yard sales. Garage sales, too. Or—oh! Maybe an estate—”

He steps over to you then, closing the space between you as his wide form comes suffocatingly close. He leans down with his biceps bulging on either side of you. “You can be a real airhead sometimes, y’know?”

You glower at him. “That was mean. I was trying to be helpful.”

He smirks and a droplet of sweat slides off his chest to instead soak into your top. “Didn’t say it was a bad thing. Think it’s kinda cute, actually.”

He gives you a peck on the lips before returning to his toilsome hobby, leaving you flabbergasted at you and Billy having had your first kiss.

You flush more often when you’re around him now.

So, too, does he give you more pecks on the lips.

But still, nothing more seems to grow between you.

Even during tryouts, he shows off. It feels like his mind is split in half—one portion focuses on the ball he’s dribbling across the gleaming, polished court, while the other hopes you’re impressed by his physique as he seamlessly dodges his opposing classmates.

But when he allows himself a split-second to look at you, you’re on the edge of your seat—practically breathless from anticipation—with eyes only for him.

And once he makes the final winning throw, you nearly trip over yourself as you bound down the reverberating metal steps of the gym’s bleachers to instead throw yourself against his damp chest, and he lifts you into the air.

He tries to kiss you with the knowledge of just how many pairs of eyes are watching, but he’s jilted when you pull away.

Getting tired of wooing you with nothing to show for it, he opts for a more…assholish route.

He hooks up with a girl from school.

And he hates the entire evening he spends with her in his bed.

He can’t get her out the door fast enough.

The clarity that hits him once he finishes in his condom is blinding.

Only one girl revs his engine now.

Nevertheless, he wants to evoke a sense of jealousy from you.

“Sorry about last Friday. Me and Vicki hooked up, so I was busy.”

“Oh.”

He glances to you, watching as you stir soggy cereal around a little plastic bowl.

“That’s it? We’re best friends. Think I’m at least due a high five for nailin’ her finally.”

You gather your untouched breakfast and suddenly stand. “I’m going to throw this away.”

Billy watches as you walk sullenly across the cafeteria.

What if he went too far?

You’re hurt. He can tell.

But it doesn’t engulf him with thrilling fulfillment. Instead, he feels like dogshit.

You don’t even return to the table once you’ve disposed of your uneaten food. Instead, you make your way out and across the hall to the girl’s restroom.

He waits for you at your locker.

And when you reach it…you’ve been crying.

He can tell.

He really fucked up.

But y’know what? It pisses him off a little, too. You getting all emotional—trying to guilt-trip him—when you were the one who made it clear that you desire nothing more than friendship between you.

“You not like her, or something?” he presses while crossing his arms defensively.

“I’m happy for you, Billy.” A beat of silence. “I’ll get your jersey back to you tomorrow.”

His hackles stand on-end. “What?”

You pop your locker open then. You haven’t looked at him once all morning.

“So you can give it to Vicki to wear. I’ll…keep my distance. I know some girls can… People… They don’t always like it when their partner has a friend of the opposite sex. I wouldn’t want to get in the way.”

He’s such a fucking moron.

He always does this. Always ruins everything. Give him something good and he won’t stop until he’s destroyed it—turned it to shit.

“We’re not…” he grasps for words, feeling like the rope which binds the two of you together is slowly fraying and that the last fibers are about to snap, causing him to lose the only thing he has left.

Again.

“We’re not going together. We just…screwed. That’s it. I don’t want anything else from her.”

You close your locker then while shaking your head. “No wonder why I refuse to date in high school.” you look at him then with red-rimmed, glassy eyes, and a sharp jolt of pain shoots straight through his chest. “You’re all after one thing.”

That’s why.

Why you’ve not asked for more.

You think… You think that he’d use you up and toss you aside, too.

Not that it’s right that he did as much to Vicki, as well as a parade of other chicks.

But…he didn’t love any of them.

He never has.

Until…

Until you.

Final class of the day: Math. Which is Billy’s favorite, but your least.

He’s helped you with your arithmetic many times, and had been quite pleased to see your grades much-improved before long, all thanks to his aid.

Halfway through the worksheet you’re all completing together, the teacher calls you to the front of the class to solve an equation.

On your way there, however, the boy seated in front of Billy snorts. “I’m surprised Little-Miss-Airhead can even solve how to get her locker open.”

Billy’s rage rears its ugly head, and he grabs the back of the shitstain’s shirt in his fist while jerking him backward, forcing the front legs of his desk off the floor. “Call her that again,” he growls lowly from between clenched teeth. “And I’ll beat your ass behind the bleachers once the final bell rings until you’re coughing up a mouthful of teeth.”

He releases him then, sending the prick sputtering for air.

Your eyes briefly meet with Billy’s, and you give him a small, solemn smile. Thank you.

Billy is ready to crawl out of his skin on the way home, but he knows he needs to say something.

He has to fix what he’s nearly broken.

He’d rather die than lose you.

“The jersey is yours. I gave it to you for a reason. Besides, with…Vicki…” he trails off and grips the wheel impossibly tighter.

Meanwhile, you remain eerily silent, willing him to continue.

“It wasn’t even fuckin’ enjoyable, alright? I couldn’t get her out the door fast enough afterward. And, yeah, maybe I used her for sex. As if plenty of chicks haven’t done the same to me in the past. But she’s not some victim of a broken heart. We both had our reasons for screwin’ each other.”

You remain still while watching trees and street signs flit by the window you gaze out of. “Can’t imagine what those would be.”

“To make another jealous.”

You turn cautiously toward him then, not wanting to make the thought-process which just went through your mind blaringly obvious. “W-who?”

He shrugs. “For her, her ex.”

“And…you?” you ask while nervously fidgeting with your tinkling charm bracelet.

He glances to you with an arched brow. “You really gotta ask?”

You blink with wide eyes.

He returns to the road ahead. “Guess it worked.”

By that weekend, everything is back to normal between the two of you.

Well, ‘normal’ is a relative term.

Because your dynamic has most-assuredly shifted.

Like during breakfast or lunch, when Billy sits next to you, he’s begun testing the waters by sliding a callused hand up your naked thigh, to just above the hem of your skirt.

Neither of you make any pertaining comment to how the aforementioned limb trembles as he stares into your eyes with a wavering look about him—just waiting to be told to get his paws off.

You’ve also started giving each other fleeting pecks on the lips before you get out of his car when he drops you off.

You occasionally hold hands in the halls at school as well, and Billy glares daggers at any facet of the male population who dares to look at you too long for his liking.

The pair of you can’t help yourselves before long from toeing the invisible line that’s slowly eroding away, leaving no boundaries to be crossed, because they no longer exist.

Like when you emerge from the shower one Friday after school, ready to change into something more comfortable so the two of you can watch a movie together on the living room couch.

And you drop the item on your bedroom floor, letting Billy take his fill of your naked body.

You’re quivering from nerves—of course you’re self-conscious; terrified he’ll be disgusted. Until he pads over, takes your hand in his, and forces you to cup his erection.

“See what you fuckin’ do to me?” he breathes before retrieving a pair of panties from your dresser and kneeling to slide them up your bare legs.

He does grin with amusement when he goes to find you a shirt, only to find one of his own stuffed into your pajama drawer, however.

You’re laid back on the couch, while Rocky plays quietly on the box TV that’s but a handful of feet away.

Meanwhile, Billy is sprawled across the sofa as well, but he’s resting wholly on top of you. His lean frame presses against your body, radiating heat across every inch of your exposed skin.

You continue your ministrations of massaging his scalp—as his head is currently resting between your breasts—while your other hand rubs small, soothing circles along the middle of his back, beneath his shirt.

The movie is only halfway through when he begins to snore.

And you can’t help but smile in contentment at the fact that he feels at-ease enough to fall asleep in your arms.

You close your eyes then, too, while brimming with giddiness at this intimate moment.

When you wake, it’s to Billy’s head shoved beneath your shirt and him suckling at one of your nipples.

“Billy! What’re you doing?”

He doesn’t retort. Instead, he merely trails his wide, wet tongue along your horripilated skin, cresting the valley between your breasts before bestowing his undivided attention upon your opposite nipple.

 You whine while arching your back and wiggling your hips, and Billy merely slides a hand under your shorts while grabbing a handful of your ass and squeezing.

“Ah! Billy—”

“Tryin’ to concentrate,” he mumbles before lapping at your right breast again.  

You lie there, and your eyes flutter closed as warmth blooms between your thighs and wetness begins to seep from between your legs.

With you trapped beneath his heavy weight, however, there’s little-to-nothing you can do to relieve the growing pressure which is forming in your panties, due to him.

The same can’t be said for Billy, however.

Eventually, he pushes your shirt up and above your head before situating it behind your neck so you can each have a full, unperturbed view of one another.

And once you do, he takes your left breast in one hand while slipping his opposite in his pants so that he can slowly stroke his throbbing erection.

You swallow thickly, finding that your mouth has suddenly gone dry.

“You know how many times I’ve jacked off to the thought of you?” he rasps.

Your skin is flushed and your eyes are glassy, while your ears are lightly ringing, but a moment later to do you finally shake your head after having ingested what he’s asked you.

“Too many,” he states before diving down and capturing your lips with his own.

Each time he strokes himself, his knuckles brush against your pulsating cunt.

You whimper in frustration against his lips and his exploring tongue that slips along your own with deft experience, while lifting your hips, wanting to grind against him—against anything so as to gain a modicum of friction to relieve your swollen clit.

Finally, he eases his pants down, then shoves his hand inside his briefs again while situating the tip of his cock against the front of them.

“This what you want, baby?” he asks between breathless pants.

You nod enthusiastically. Yes, it is.

He releases himself then, only to hook his index fingers under the waistband of your shorts.

His darkened eyes meet yours, you nod, and then he pulls them down and off your body in one fell swoop before dropping them onto the floor.

“Spread your legs for me, sweetheart,” he coos, and you promptly do as you’re told.

He runs his thumb through your slick folds while cursing under his breath. “So fuckin’ pretty.”

His eyes flit to yours. “Anybody ever told you how pretty this pussy is, baby?”

You shake your head.

He smirks. “Course not. ‘Cuz I’m the first. Gonna be the only,” he murmurs before easing a single finger inside you.

You gasp while throwing your head back, then cross your arms to tug the shirt you’re wearing the rest of the way off.

And once it’s no longer of consequence, you’re entirely bare before him, leaving your body at his complete disposal to pleasure and tend to the sexual needs of.

Billy begins to so. So achingly slowly does he pump that single finger in and out of your red-hot heat while only occasionally swiping the pad of his thumb along your twitching clit.

Tears brim in your eyes from frustration, but it only makes him impossibly harder.

“Not gonna let you cum anytime soon, sweetheart. Not until I’ve decided you’re good and ready to.”

You whimper his name while your walls pulse around his thick digit.

And then he eases in a second one.

“So tight, angel. So fuckin’ wet and pretty and perfect.”

“Squeeze my fingers, baby. There you go. Good girl.”

“Oh, I know, honey. I know how good it feels. Shh.”

“That’s it, sweetie, just let your pussy do all the work. Your body knows what it needs. What to do.”

“Such a good girl for me, huh?”

Finally, once Billy’s hand is absolutely covered in your slick, he removes his fingers from inside you, and just as you feel ready to burst into tears from the loss of something to clench around, he begins to stroke his swollen erection, using your own arousal as a natural lubricant.

He lays his body atop yours once more, and you spread your legs wide before throwing them each over his hips.

Through his briefs, he presses his weeping tip firmly against your pussy and you gasp in satisfaction while turning your head to the side and he begins to nibble on the sensitive skin of your neck with his lips and teeth.

He slides the bulbous head up to your clit, then back down, and you shudder in pleasure.

He plants small, wet kisses up to your ear before moaning into it, saying so many dirty, and wonderful things to you.

“You like my cock, baby girl?”

You nod while sliding your fingers into his soft curls.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “I thought so.”

“Take your time, baby. Just relax and enjoy yourself.”

“You’re fuckin’ dripping for me.”

“Wanna slide my cock in that needy little hole so bad.”

“I’d fill you up until you’re stretched to your limits. Make you feel so goddamn good while I have my way with you.”

“Cum so fucking deep inside. Let you squeeze out every last drop until my balls are empty.”

“C’mon, baby. Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

Your hips undulate against him and you’re no longer even trying to contain the ridiculous mewling sounds which escape your lips or get caught in your throat.

All you can concentrate on is the feel of him. How impossibly warm you are all over.

His hard, erect member prodding against your entrance and teasing your clit repeatedly.

Between the two of you, the front of his briefs are absolutely soaked through now; your fluids mixing together.

Billy’s tongue is practically fucking your mouth, willing you to take advantage of everything he has to give you tonight.

Finally, he returns his fingers to being inside of you—but three this time, which slide in so easily.

He curls them upwards and gently massages a hidden ledge between your legs.

You arch your back and he takes a taught nipple into his mouth while scraping his teeth carefully along the pink tip.

“S—so…close,” you stutter as your body trembles.

He licks a searing path down to your navel. “I know, baby. But not like this.”

Your eyes pop open just in time to take notice that his head is now between your legs.

“Gotta have you coming another way,” he says with a wink before he swipes his tongue through your folds and begins to suck on your clit.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, no longer thinking straight.

Billy positions your legs over either of his shoulders while burrowing the tip of his tongue inside of you.

You turn slightly toward the right, wanting more attention on your clit.

And then he hits it just right and you squeal his name, begging him—“right there!”

He groans into you before grabbing either of your hips and pulling you down toward him.

His eyes flutter closed as he loses himself to it—to you.

You whimper and whine and gasp, all while he remains concentrated on the task at-hand.

And then that pressure begins to build.

You curl your toes, arch your back, tighten your muscles.

Billy becomes practically animalistic with need when he clocks what’s about to happen.

He’s moaning and groaning against your weeping entrance, unable to help himself.

He feels like he’s about to fucking cum all over his briefs just from pleasing you alone.

Something which has certainly never happened before.

Finally, you reach your crescendo and you say his name in a garble of letters between other words which only half make sense as you begin to fall.

And once you’ve calmed, Billy gives your cunt one last kiss before crawling onto the couch again beside you and pulling your naked body flush against his own as you begin to shake.

He tugs a blanket from the back of it while wrapping you in it, and then his arms around you while you cry softly.

“I love you,” he whispers while tenderly kissing your forehead. “I love you.”

You’re each inseparable from the other from that night forward.

He calls you every evening to tell you goodnight and that he loves you.

You always say it back. Sometimes, with a teary voice, which, in-turn, makes him an emotional mess as well.

He’s happier than he’s ever been.

And he doesn’t even try to hide it.

So Neil does what he can to destroy his own child’s joy.

He gets physical one night.

Something about Billy forgetting to take the garbage out on the right day, and how he’s always drinking up all his beer.

Once Neil has gone to bed, Billy tears out of the driveway headed in one specific direction.

It’s almost midnight when you hear a soft rapping at your bedroom window.

You’re initially frightened and think to get your parents up.

You’re grateful that you didn’t opt for doing as much when you see that it’s just Billy, however.

But…something is wrong.

He’s…he’s crying.

He climbs in through your window and collapses into your arms in a heap of tears and apologies, and the explanation for his sorry state comes out in a nonstop barrage of words.

Everything comes spilling out.

From his childhood, to his mother leaving, to his being forcibly moved here with a new family he wants no part in being a member of, and being threatened near-daily by his father.

You hold him close while stroking his curls and giving him soft, comforting kisses on his damp cheeks, ensuring him over and over again that everything he is saying about himself is absolutely not true.

He is not stupid.

Not worthless.

Not a waste of space.

Not a piece of shit.

Not a bad son.

Not a bad person.

Not a weak, pathetic excuse for a man.

And no, you are not going fucking anywhere. He is your life now. Period.

And he most certainly does not deserve the things which have happened to and been inflicted upon him.

“Baby, I am so sorry,” you say, choking back a broken sob. “I’m so sorry she left you behind. That he has done this to you.”

He curls around you and you cradle his head in your hands. “So, so sorry, sweetie.”

Eventually, you coax him into bed with you. He strips down, then climbs in next to you and buries his face between your breasts while quietly sobbing.

All you can think to do is hold firmly to him as he lets it out. As you repeat soothing words and grant him comforting, maternal gestures.

And then Billy tells you the truth.

“I don’t just…see you as my girlfriend or best friend now.”

You remain silent while you press a handful of kisses to the crown of his head. “Tell me, baby.”

“You’re—” he stops, swallows down the bile rising in his throat, then takes the plunge. “Sometimes…you feel like… The way you treat me… Like the mom I lost.”

You begin to sob again while repeating how much you dearly love him, and how happy that makes you to hear. You assure him that he has always been, and will always be, safe with you.

The next morning, you’re each worn thin, but Billy kisses you anyway.

Trails his hands along your body.

Slips a gentle hand between your thighs.

You don’t need words for this.

For what you’re each saying with your eyes alone: it’s time.

You nod toward your bedside table, and he slides open the top drawer, and then his brows furrow at the small collection of prophylactics he finds inside.

You rest a dainty hand upon his chest. “For you.”

It’s slow, and tender, and you each weep slow, quiet tears at this last piece falling into place in your relationship.

Billy glides his hands up your back while you gaze down into his eyes with absolute adoration and commitment.

You rock your hips slowly against his; his erection positioned firmly inside of you, where it belongs.

Where he does.

You had read about this position in Cosmopolitan once—lotus flower? A beautiful name for a beautiful way to make love, you think.

You cup the back of his head while softly pressing your lips to his. And then you smile. “I’ve always thought your curls were so adorable.”

He actually blushes.

So you kiss his pink-hued cheeks.

Billy swallows down the lump in his throat.

“I love you,” you begin while cupping his cheek. “William Hargrove. Do you understand me?”

He nods, and you watch as tears brim in his ocean-blue eyes.

“I will never love another man. Only you. You are my world. My everything.”

He rests his cheek between your naked breasts, and you hold him there, where he listens to your pounding heart.

“I’m so glad we found each other. That you came here. But one day, when it’s right, we’ll go back. Together.”

His cock twitches.

“You are everything I could’ve ever wanted. Beautiful, kind, selfless, loving, strong, and so, so smart.”

He moans while guiding your hips with his hands.

“You’re perfect. We’re perfect for each other.”

He groans, and his cock strains where it’s lodged inside you.

“I’m yours, Billy. Forever and ever. Maybe the stories are true,” you whisper while leaning back just enough to look into his eyes again, and you swipe tears from his cheeks with the pads of your thumbs. “I found my prince charming.”

Billy tangles his fingers in your hair then and forces your lips down upon his own as he finally climaxes.

Shortly before graduation does Billy present you with a ring which once belonged to another woman he had once loved.

Though, in a different way.

He’s shaking, and he stumbles over his words, while practically gasping for breath.

He pours his heart and soul into the proposal he’s making to you.

You get down on both your knees as well, and wrap your arms around him while granting him kiss after kiss after kiss. “Yes, of course I’ll be your wife. I don’t ever want to be anything else.”

Your parents are so glad for you.

Even if the news of your faraway move brings them both to tears.

But they knew this day was coming: their little girl growing up, finding love, and moving away to discover her own life somewhere else.

Your mom clutches you to her as Billy stands at the passenger-side of the Camaro, waiting for when you’re ready.

Ready…to let go of this: your childhood home and the town that raised you… You need only look at your future husband to know it’s a fair trade, though. Besides, you’ll both come back to visit once you’re completely settled.

Your father shakes Billy’s hand, then pulls him into a bear hug. And you watch them both battle against brimming tears as he forces Billy to promise him that if things don’t work out, that he’ll call him immediately, and he’ll get you both back home, and you’ll all figure things out together. To not be ashamed if California doesn’t go as planned—that this is a huge step, not to be taken lightly.

Billy merely nods, mutters a ‘yes, sir’, then quietly tells him: “I’ll be glad to get a new father once I’ve married your daughter.”

Finally, once goodbyes have come to a close, you jump off the front porch steps and into Billy’s arms while squealing with excitement.

You watch from the passenger seat, while holding tightly to your fiancé, as your parents grow smaller in the rearview.

But you know, as you look upon the man next to you, that everything is just as it should be.

· tagging list: @emilynissangtr @highsummon @shes-an-odd-bird

[munsonsmixtapes]

I Know You Want My Touch For Life

rockstar!eddie x popstar!reader

You and Eddie meet at an awards show and realize that you have much more in common that you initially thought.

This is based on the song "Juno" by Sabrina Carpenter

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) breeding kink

The lights begin to dim as you sit down at your designated table. You have a drink in hand as you try your best to act like you’re sober. You don’t know how many drinks you’ve had but you’ve been downing them like they’re water, feeling all giggly because of all the effects. 

The show is starting and you make small talk with the other people at your table, all of you yapping away as the host comes out on stage. It’s an actress who you can’t remember the name of because to be honest, something, or someone else has captured your attention. 

Eddie Munson is across the room, sipping on something before laughing half-heartedly at a joke the host has made. Everyone but you is in on the joke but you’re not paying attention. Eddie has captured all of it. He looks so good in his suit and you honestly can’t believe that he’s real, that he’s in the same room as you, because for a while, you were convinced that your brain has just made him up. 

You don’t know what you’re doing. The alcohol has definitely taken control of your brain because before you can stop yourself, you’re pulling your phone out of your clutch and pulling up his instagram account, curious to see if he’s following you back and to your surprise, he is. 

He knows who you are. You’ve been crushing on him for so long and you know he likes you too. Well, he did. You vividly remember him saying that you were his celebrity crush a few years back but you’re not sure if that’s still true. 

Because of your drunken state, you end up liking basically every photo on his profile, commenting nonsensical emojis on every one you’re liking which is something you’d absolutely never do if you were sober. 

Once you’ve looked at his profile for long enough, you go to DM him, trying to think of something to say but just come up with the word “hot” in all caps which is all you seem to be thinking as you go back to his profile, continuing to like and comment on his posts. 

Eddie sees you out of the corner of his eye and now he can’t seem to stop looking at you. His very obvious crush on your is getting even bigger and as he watches you from across the room, he wishes that he could be the one sitting next to you and not that guy who you’re giggling with. 

He doesn’t handle his jealousy well, always acting impulsively, usually doing something he shouldn’t. He’s actually sober tonight for once which actually makes him feel calmer than normal. He’d definitely do something he’d regret if he had a few drinks in him which he squally would have by now. 

“You should ask her out,” Grant whispers to Eddie as he follows his line of sight. Eddie just scoffs then turns back to the stage, suddenly remembering that there’s a show going on before him. 

“Right,” is all he says as he claps for the girl heading towards the stage to get her award. Holy shit, it’s you. And you’re stumbling as you try to get up the steps while still somehow looking so graceful. 

Before Eddie can stop himself, he’s rushing towards the stage, reaching out to help you up since clearly no one else is going to do it. You’re putting your hand in his and suddenly it feels like electricity is moving through his body. He’s quick to gather the train of your dress which is the reason why you’ve been tripping and he follows you up the steps, watching your every move to make sure that you’re okay. 

He’s following you to where the presenters are standing, admiring how you take the award so gracefully. You grab hold of his hand and pull him close to you as you stand in front of the mic. 

Your mind is nothing but hazy, foggy from the alcohol and you’re trying your best to think about your speech that you had written up, leaning into Eddie, making it impossible for him to resist your touch, how good you smell. It’s intoxicating. 

“Oh my gosh,” you gush, smiling wide as you look down at the award in awe. You can’t think anymore, all of the words evaporating from your brain as you look out into the audience then over to Eddie who’s smiling down at you like you’ve hung the moon. 

“I can’t believe I won,” you slur, much more drunk than Eddie realized and he doesn’t want you to make a fool out of yourself, suddenly feeling protective over you. You haven’t been in this industry for as long as he has and he would hate for you to make the same mistakes as he’s done. 

“C’mon, honey,” he says, leading you back towards the stairs and you feel your cheeks getting hot at his nickname. To anyone who doesn’t know the two of you, it almost looks like you’re a couple. You’re eating that up, wishing that you were a couple like you have been for years. Maybe this will be the night you finally make a move. 

Eddie leads you back to your table where there’s conveniently an empty chair next to yours. You invite him to sit and he does, wanting to look out for you, to make sure you’re okay, especially after having so much alcohol in your system. 

He makes you drink some water to help sober you up and you actually kind of like him bossing you around. You don’t usually like being told what to do, but with Eddie? Oh, you’ll do anything he says as long as he’s looking at you with those pretty brown eyes. They’ve quickly become your weakness. 

Once the water is drained from your cup, he seems satisfied so he stands from the table only for you to reach out and grab hold of his hand to stop him. You’re giving him pleading eyes, close to batting them to get him to stay. 

“You can’t go,” you tell him. “We’re having fun.” Eddie feels bad for leaving, but he’s gotta get back to his table, feeling guilty for abandoning his band mates for a girl. 

“Tell you what,” he says, sitting back down only for a second. “There’s an after party at that hotel down the street. Meet me there and we can have some fun.” You feel yourself getting wet just thinking about it as he pulls away, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before heading back to his table. 

-

Eddie finally gets the chance to check his phone that had been vibrating constantly throughout the show. When he does, he’s in shock seeing your name so many times in his notifications. There have to be at least fifty just from you amongst the thousands he gets every single day from fans. But this is different. It’s you. And you were spamming him. 

It’s strings of nonsensical emojis but he gets the gist. You’re clearly thirsting over him and he’s eating it up. He could tell you were into him when he was sitting with you, but now he’s got proof. He’s really hoping that it wasn’t just how you were feeling when you were drunk and that you’ll actually take him up on his offer. God, what he would give to have his way with you. 

He desperately wants to see that pretty dress of yours on the floor of some random hotel room, his own clothes strewn across the room as he’s got you pinned to the dresser, pounding into you from behind as he forces you to look into the mirror that’s on top of it. 

And when he finally opens the DM from you, well, fuck, now he’s got to have you. It’s not an option anymore. 

So does your name Eddie “the freak” Munson mean that you’re actually willing to get freaky or am I reading it wrong? 

He’s honestly impressed you were able to write that out without any errors and now he’s gotten even more hard as he wonders what kind of stuff you’re into, what he’ll let him do to you. What you’ll do to him. 

He’s scanning the place for you, keeping an eye out for that beautiful dress of yours. He spots you over by door talking to Gareth. And even though he loves the guy, he’s now an opponent. Jealousy is coursing through him, something he’s never been able to handle well and now he’s not sure how he’s going to get his band mate to go away by speaking to him nicely. 

“Hi,” you beam when Eddie approaches and he has to compose himself when he sees your hand on Gareth’s shoulder. 

“Hi,” he replies, mimicking your smile, hoping he looks as cute as you do but knows he doesn’t. 

He’s so hot that it’s unfair. Even after sobering up, you still want him so bad, still wanting an answer to your question. You’ve seen him so many times at events like this and now more than ever, you do desperately want to pin him to the wall and take him right there, not even caring who’s watching. 

Your attraction to him that’s been building over the years is so strong that it’s almost tangible. You’re so wet that it’s almost uncomfortable, your need for him growing by the second. You hope you didn’t weird him out with your emojis and DM and that he’s still willing to give you a chance. 

“Hey, Gareth, I think that blonde you were talking about earlier is checking you out,” you subtly point to the woman who’s closer to the stage and Gareth whips his head in her direction just in time to see her wave him over. He’s quick to flee, finally leaving you and Eddie alone. 

He steps closer, his eyes darkening as he does so. He’s biting down on his bottom lip as he lets his eyes slowly rake over your body before pulling it flush to his. His hands rest on your waist as your arms wrap around his neck. 

The want is there but neither of you are making a move, just staring each other down with lust filled eyes. It’s like you’re waiting to see who’s going to make a move but neither of you wants to be the first to do so. 

“So jealousy is what motivates you to make a move,” you observe and Eddie just leans forward, his lips right by your ear. 

“No, it’s actually dirty DMs, but seeing you with Gareth did make me act faster.” He pulls away just in time to see your gaze moving to his lips and he purposely wets them to make them look more inviting, his tongue swiping across them slowly as if to tease you and it seems to work because you’re pulling him in before he can even finish. 

It’s desperate with roaming hands and breathy moans, definitely not suited for a public space but neither of you seem to care, too caught up in each other to notice the dirty looks that are shot your way. Eddie’s backing you out of the room and towards the elevators before it can get too inappropriate for anyone to see and you’re pushed into an elevator as soon as it opens. 

Eddie’s got you pinned to the wall, his tongue flicking into your mouth as you let out a moan as he grinds against you. Your hands are tangling in his hair as he scoots to the side to press the button that will lead to the floor he’s staying on. You’re then back against the wall in a flash and he grabs hold of your legs, wrapping them around his waist, mumbling something against your lips that you can’t hear as he carries you out of the elevator. 

You’re still wrapped around his waist as he uses his key card to unlock the door to his room. As he’s occupied with that, you’re sucking on his best, trying your best to leave a mark so people know exactly what he’s gotten up to tonight. Another trophy for the night. 

Once the door is unlocked, he heads inside and lets it slam behind him as he sets you down on the bed. He drops to his knees to help you take off your heels and you smile at him, admiring how he can be such a gentleman. Once he pulls them off of your feet, he sees the imprint that they’ve left behind and begins to massage them, his cock somehow hardening even more when he hears you moan at how good it feels. 

You lie back on the bed and Eddie kisses up each leg, giving them some love before spreading them, pushing up your dress to see the wet patch that’s formed in your panties. The white fabric is now almost see-through because of how wet you are and he decides that he’s got to have you right now or he’s going to explode. 

He pulls down your panties and tosses them to the side to find that you really are wet beyond belief and that only makes him want you more, especially when you’re looking up at him like you want to devour him. And he thinks he just might let you. 

Eddie pats his pocket for what you assume is a condom and even though you feel crazy for suggesting what you’re about to, you do it anyway. It’s spontaneous, but hasn’t the whole night been that way. Certainly neither of you planned to be here like this tonight, but you supposed that it’s just fate. 

“I don’t want to use a condom,” you tell him and he’s now intrigued. “I know it sounds crazy, but I-I kind of like the idea of having a baby with you. I know we just met, but-“ 

“You don’t have to convince me,” he shakes his head, cutting you off. He’s down on his knees again, placing himself between your legs as he pulls you to sit up. “Whatever you want,” he presses his forehead to yours. “I’ll give it to you. So if you want a baby, let’s have a baby.” 

“You’re serious?” You honestly didn’t think he’d agree and especially not so quickly. You’re strangers, after all and you’ve never even thought about having kids, especially not with your career, but having a baby at the height of it all with the man you’ve been crushing on for years just feels right. 

“Yes,” he whispers, pressing his lips to yours as he helps you lie back. His clothes are off in a flash and he’s helping you take off your dress in the blink of an eye, taking a moment to take in just how beautiful you are. Oh, he’s going to love this. 

He lies on top of you slowly as he pushes inside of you, his hands finding yours as he begins to thrust, slowly at first, but once you get into a rhythm, you’re moving fast and hard, trying to keep up with each other as the only sounds that can be heard are your filthy moans and skin slapping against skin. 

Eddie is not shy about letting you know how hot he thinks this all is, that he’s actually obsessed with you potentially getting pregnant, how much he wants to fill you and it only makes you want his baby even more as the filthy words fall from his lips. 

“I like the way you fit,” you tell him as you run your hand over where you’re connected and his eyes darken as he watches you, pushing his cock even farther inside of you until he’s bottoming out. 

“Me too,” he rasps as he somehow moves even faster, even harder. “Fuck, I’m going to love filling you.” He leans down so that his lips are right by your ear, his breath making the hair on your arms raise. “Fuck, you’re gonna look so hot, sweetheart. I’m so honored that you asked me to do this, but how did you know I had a breeding kink?” He bites down on your earlobe before pulling away, so close to coming just by looking at your fucked out face. He’s already made a mess of you and he’s barely done anything. 

“Swear you’re going to be the death of me. When you showed up in that dress tonight, I swore I was done for. I mean, jesus, you have no idea what you do to me. When you dmed me tonight, swore I was going to explode in my pants. And by the way,” he leans down and presses another kiss to your lips. “The answer to your question is yes.” 

“What?” You ask through a breath. 

“You asked if my nickname “the freak” means that I’m willing to get freaky and the answer is yes.” He kisses you again and you feel even more dizzy and this time, it’s not from the alcohol. “But we can explore that some other time because right now, this is all about getting you knocked up.”

“You gonna make me Juno?” You asks as you buck your hips against his and you just know that he’s close. You can feel it. You can see it on his face as his eyes are practically rolling into the back of his head. 

“Fuck yes,” he whines as he begins to unload, still pounding into you as he orgasms, pumping in and out until he collapses on top of you, both of you absolutely spent, just lying there until he eventually pulls out and cleans the two of you up before climbing back into the bed, pulling you to his chest with a contented sigh. 

You lie discussing the possible future and there’s just something about being there that just feels right, almost as if it’s fate that brought the two of you together. Baby names are thrown back and forth as you both begin to feel tired. 

“Hey,” Eddie speaks up as you pull him closer to you, lying your head on his chest. 

“Hm?” You ask, eyes fluttering shut. 

“Juno would be a really cool song name,” he suggests and you laugh it off but you begin to think that maybe he’s onto something.

[jaylaxies]

NOW OR NEVER

PAIRING: spider-man!sunghoon x fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, unprotected sex, choking, fingering, slight bondage, usage of nicknames, breeding.

SYNOPSIS: going around the city with your massive poster which said, ‘Choke me, Spider-Man!’ was something you did for fun, not knowing that your dream might actually come true.

WC: 1.4k words

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni

A/N: hihi, loves! this one was requested by my anonnie and i’ve also posted this as a mark fic before! i hope you guys will like it :3 all likes, comments, reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated! iloveyou all <33

“Shh, baby. Don’t want your parents to hear now, do we?”

You truly couldn’t believe that it was happening—that Spider-Man was in your room with his slender fingers wrapped ever so perfect around your throat.

You’ve always wanted this from the day you first saw him, on the day he saved a lift full of people from falling down and crashing to the ground. You were one of those who unfortunately got stuck inside the lift too, which was the traumatic onset of your tiny crush on him.

No one knew who was behind that mask, yet his suit clad figure was a sight to see, his build lean and slightly muscular, not to mention he smelled brilliant (a little something you gathered when he saved you).

To add to it, his ever so attractive voice always grasped everyone’s attention, you thought he was funny too, which is exactly why you ended up making a poster full of glitter saying:

Choke me, Spider-Man!

It was a silly joke, albeit you’d definitely be lying if you say you didn’t get wet dreams about the superhero, because you did. Detailed ones at that.

Maybe carrying the poster with you at all times was a stretch but you did it anyway, granted that your city was full of crimes and spotting Spider-Man was an easy task, which is why you proudly held up the poster in the crowd whenever you saw him, after he fought with the villain that is.

The people around you laughed, but it wasn’t mocking, it was more of an amused laugh, and you could have sworn you noticed spidey look your way, before swinging away, much to your dismay.

This went on a few times. You were practically waving the poster frantically when it was the fourth time, yet he didn’t pay you attention of any sort, leaving you dejected as you dragged yourself back home from Uni, chuckling at your state.

Crush on a superhero?

Pathetic.

He’s loved by countless people all over the world, what makes you think he’d have time to give you even a sliver of his attention when he’s so busy saving the world?

Clicking your tongue, you threw the crumbled poster in the trash can of your bedroom, dimming the lights as you sat down on your bed, ready to change into your nightwear before opting to sleep to take your mind off things.

Just then, a loud sound of knocking on your window caught your attention, which was funny considering you lived up on a pretty high floor in your apartment building. You thought that it must be a bird, still, you decided to open the curtains to check it out.

Shock would be an understatement to explain what you were feeling the second your eyes laid on the person right outside your window.

The reason for your sour mood, or rather, the reason you spent hours trying to ease the pent up frustration in you each night, moaning out with need, was hanging by your window.

“Oh god,” you breathed out, brain short circuiting for a few seconds before you shook your head, opening the windows for him to come in.

Who knew Spider-Man would actually care enough to notice you?

Then you realized just how awkward the situation was, and you didn’t have much to say anymore now that he was standing right in front of you, looking around as if he was inspecting your room.

“Spider man,” you breathed out, and he chuckled.

His attention was on you now, walking closer to you, “so, you’re the one who wanted to be choked by me,” he said smoothly, and you couldn’t help but shamelessly gawk at his figure, mouth watering at the sight.

“Uhm—I mean, holy fuck you’re actually here,” you tried to voice out your thoughts, but they were a mess, which only caused him to chuckle at your shocked state.

“Didn’t you want me here, baby?” He asked and you felt your knees buckling at the deep tone of his voice.

You took another step back, only to lose balance and trip. But good for you, your spidey was quick to shoot his web on your silky night blouse, pulling you close and right into his arms.

He smelled so good.

“Careful. We don’t want you hurting your pretty face,” he whispered, tracing his glove clad finger along your jaw, gripping your chin when he noticed how your body had gone still, “deep breaths, babe.”

“Are you gonna fuck me?” You asked, voice coming out in a low whine, eyes twinkling with hope.

He chuckled, pulling his mask up which had you bubbling with anticipation, you really wanted to see what he looked like. However, he stopped a little too soon for your liking, only exposing his lips, leaning in to mumble against your own.

“I’m gonna fuck the life out of you,” he whispers, a gasp leaving your lips as you pulled him closer into a rushed kiss.

He was quick to take over, kissing you harder as he pushed you down on your bed, you could feel his fang like canines biting down on your bottom lip, “undress, quick,” he ordered, and you fumbled while getting everything off your body.

Your cheeks were warm, your eyes on his figure, which was now devoid of his costume, faint abs and strong muscles on display for you, but your mouth practically salivated at the sight of his cock, thick and hard.

Just when you sat up to touch him, he grabbed your wrist, pushing them up your head and shooting webs to tie them, making sure they didn’t move.

You never knew you’d be into web-play but here you are, getting wet by being constrained by webs.

“Please,” you begged in hopes that he’d touch you, or do something, anything.

“So needy, aren’t you?” He clicks his tongue, his fingers caressing your cunt, collecting your wetness, “so wet already,” he smirked, “wanna be fucked all night, huh?” He asked, continuing working his fingers between your legs, arousal leaking from your cunt.

His other hand was wrapped up around your neck, fingers tightening enough for you to gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt lightheaded with the whole situation, but you couldn’t have asked for anything better.

He was so good with his fingers, thumb pads circling your clit while two digits plunged in and out of you, eliciting moans out of you.

“Shh,” he whispered, his hold around your neck tightening which caused you to open your mouth, giving him the perfect opportunity to lean in and spit in your mouth, watching the glob travel down your tongue till you gulped it down, earning a praise out of him, “good girl.”

He pulled back right when your body started shaking with the orgasm building up in your lower abdomen, his hold on your neck loose to let you breathe some more before he took it to the next level.

He ran his lips down your neck, sucking harshly as he lined his cock to your eager folds, your expression blissful and your entrance so wet, it made it easy for him to bottom out, “so fucking pretty,” he groaned out.

His voice strained as he started fucking you into your mattress, his power was evident with how precise and hard his thrusts were. It was a lifetime opportunity for you, and you wished to savour every second of it as you wrapped your legs around his slender waist, pulling him even closer and deeper in your pussy.

He hit your spot over and over again, “cream my cock like a good girl, baby,” he rasped out, his own orgasm approaching.

You couldn’t hold back anymore, with his fingers still gripping your neck, the lack of air was evident but it somehow made you feel as if you were floating with unadulterated bliss around you as you finally reached your state of euphoria, coming undone on his cock, exactly when he filled you up with his cum, mixing it with yours as he emptied himself in you.

You whined when he pulled back, getting dressed after draining you, “you’re leaving?” You asked, frowning.

“Gotta save the world now, pretty,” he whispered, removing his webs from your wrists before pecking your lips and rushing out of the window, leaving you dazed.

Maybe making the poster wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

THANK YOU FOR READING!

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[savanir]

DP x DC ficlet

is it even a ficlet anymore, this thing has gotten incredibly out of hand...

So a while back I saw this

and I picked the Green Lantern one and then just kinda wrote a full fic so...

It had been a good party, official yes but despite that still festive enough and with just a bittersweet hint. as all good meaningful parties should be like, unless you’re looking to get absolutely shitfaced.

But hey Rowan deserved a proper sendoff for making it to this point and not dying in the process. Hal is going to miss the old pilot though.

"Hal, I got something for you, before I forget"

"Hm, what is it"

The old man puts a small intricate glass model of a f16 fighter in his hand.

"Back when I started I was given this for good luck and protection"

Rowan presses it down firmly and stands there all official like "may it grant you both as it did for me"

They both stand there for a second before laughing.

“Feel free to shelf the whole luck thing, what’s really important is skill and experience. Still, knowing you, you can definitely use the protection ”

Hal grins, "Thanks, I'll keep close"

"You better, the sentimental value is sky high" Rowan slaps his shoulder with another laugh.

Good lord what a dork.

The old retiring pilot wasn't paying attention, too caught up in everything else but Hal saw the faint and brief green hue coming from his hand.

In a panic he slammed his other hand over top. Completely missing the quietly whispered "protect"

Too busy cussing out his ring in his head, he swears that thing is trying to out him on purpose sometimes.

This time it wasn't the ring though, so it's a good thing it's an inanimate object and can't be upset at how wrong Hal is being right now.

"Everything alright?"

"Yeah! Let's get back to the others"

The evening ends uneventfully.

---

It's really only until quite a bit later that things start to happen.

"Green lantern" its batman's business voice.

Both Hal and John look up.

"Jordan" ah shit.

"I'll catch you up later" and he leaves Hal behind, traitor.

"What's up spooky"

"You need to update your file, it is missing critical information, and on that note I wasn’t aware that the lantern suits grant you intangibility now"

"I... what..? It doesn't? What are you talking about spooks"

"Hrn" Batman pulls up a screen and shows him footage of the latest fight, in it you can clearly see something was supposed to hit Hal but went right through him "You're telling me you didn't know or notice this?"

Hal just looks kinda sick. That would have been a bad hit and he just straight up didn't even notice.

Batman just kind of silently looks at him and he must have come to some conclusion because the next thing Hal knows this comes out of his mouth.

"I've already ran your blood through the lab, it's not a sudden emergence of a meta gene so it's either from the lantern corps or you've otherwise externally been affected by something that's causing this"

Hal closes his eyes and internally counts to ten, it doesn't help.

Batman takes his silence to mean he can keep talking. The man is on an unusual roll. Hal would have been ecstatic if he didn't hate the topic quite so much.

"It would have been best if it had something to do with your ring however you seem to be completely unaware and I've also noted that the green of your ring and the green glow that comes with the density shifting are different"

He has examples with corresponding color codes, Hal is so tired.

“let's set a time frame…” Batman pulls up some documents and graph on the screen “seeing as you are unaware of this development I will set the starting point of this potential change as of now to right after the last time you have been known to be hit in a fight and before the first known instance of you being able to density shift, that leaves us with a full month.”

Hal really, really does not want to be here anymore.

“In this month you have not gone off planet so whatever caused this is on Earth” Batman pauses for a moment, “has anything significant happened during that time that springs to mind now?”

“no, nothing significant has happened during that time, frankly it’s been a very pleasant uneventful four weeks in which I finally managed to catch a break and it figures something crazy has apparently happened anyway”

Hal rubs his face with both hands, “but right now I couldn’t tell you what, anyway, does this have to be a bad thing? I for one am very glad that hit didn’t actually land”

“So far only Superman has had the privilege of having sudden emergence of new powers work out for him” Batman huffs, “it would be best to monitor this carefully, if anything springs to mind do not hesitate to inform me, the sooner this is figured out the better”

“awww you do care” Hal is using humor cope, sadly it’s Batman, so it’s not very effective.

“Jordan” now Batman sounds tired, he’s not the one with random surprise density shifting, Hal understand that Spooky’s crippling chronic paranoia must be exhausting but right now he’s the one freaking out considering this is apparently not a meta gene related development, it would have been so much easier if it was, oh and about that, just how and when did Batman get his blood exactly? he would like to know now.

---

sadly he does not get to know now. or anytime soon (or ever). it’s chaos right after, because of course it is.

knocked out of the sky and lying amongst the rubble, if their enemy spots him he’s in bigger shit than he already is, but he can’t fucking move and the next thing he knows he’s invisible.

and there is just nothing enjoyable about it.

Barry doesn’t know that though, “that was something else, just one moment and schwup and you were just gone, some sort of green lantern light bending? he looked right through you, thank god he did too” 

shit shit, “no that was..." it was like he just ceased to exist, movies and books and whatever other media always depicts it as such a cool thing but frankly it was terrifying. And he would prefer things that are terrifying not to happen to him, for obvious reasons, “honestly actually it’s complicated, stealth tech” Grade A bullshit.

“well it’s awesome”

“it was useful just now but not really my style you know” 

Barry slings his arm over Hal’s shoulder and gives him a one armed hug, “everything worked out” Hal can feel some tension flow out of his friend, “well! better get busy cleaning this mess up” and with a blink he’s gone.

Hal does not want to talk about this with Batman, but knowing him, he probably already knows anyway, it would be less of a headache to go to him than have him go to Hal. 

Hal wants to enjoy whatever this is, he really does, but he doesn’t know what caused this, he doesn’t know what triggers the new abilities or whatever they are, he doesn’t know what effects this shit is going to have in the future, he just doesn’t know anything, normally he doesn’t mind not knowing some things, he’s fine leaving the knowing to the people better suited for the more complicated knowing, but he would very much like to know more about this please.

---

Then they face off against an enemy and in the process Hal drains his ring completely and the next hit is going to be bad, so what will happen? Will he somehow go intangible again? Turn invisible and use the confusion to evade and attack?

No

Apparently this time he just gets a glowing green dome shield. Something very normal for him to have and use, if only it came out of his ring that is.

Nobody notices that something is wrong, nobody besides Batman that is.

"That's three new abilities that only appear during life threatening situations"

Hal has actually seriously gone over that month by now, but nothing, no answers. He's physically fine, mentally a little damaged but nothing new there, they all are. Every test he begrudgingly went through answered nothing. He was fine. Whatever was going on actually had nothing to do with him.

And at the same time it had everything to do with him because this is only happening to him.

As usual (by now) he takes out his little glass fighter jet and runs his thumb over the wings. It is soothing strangely enough. Like a stim toy.

"The last thing to try is a thorough examination by someone from the justice league dark"

Hal groans, magic, ok then, "Alright let's get this over with. Who knows maybe I'm just haunted"

It turns out he’s not haunted, this is a good thing... supposedly, Well let’s just say that Hal would have not minded being haunted or something if that meant it could be fixed, or just explained.

It doesn’t really need to be fixed, whatever this is has been very helpful after all, but he would do basically anything for an explanation right about now.

“you are not haunted or otherwise magically compromised, but I do sense faint traces of energy from the infinite realms” Zatanna is a godsent, finally something to work with.

“from the who whats?” Hal is worried, the occult field is definitely not his area of expertise. He's a space cop, not a space demonhunter… oh that would be pretty cool though, with like a hood and twin cyber crossbows, maybe he should incorporate that somehow.

“the infinite realms… have you recently been in touch with any death related realities?”

Well there was that time when he got booted to the death universe and he died and then he was a black lantern but he got better, that’s all very much very behind him.

She better not be about to tell him that stuff still has lingering consequences.

oh god dammit that’s exactly what is going on isn’t it?

"How recently?"

"In the past week?"

"Oh, no" Hal would have known if that was the case, death stuff tends to be hard to ignore.

Zatanna frowns, that's probably not a good sign.

"But you said I'm not compromised right?" Right now what Hal wants to know the most is if this is changing him. Cause it tends to be bad for him when that's the case.

"No this is just lingering traces of something or someone else using their powers near you"

???!!??!?

"What are the infinite realms?" oh hey there Batman, was wondering when you would show up again.

"It's the afterlife, or... more like a collection of all afterlives. The infinite realms is very literal in their naming. It is home to powerful dead entities. As a general rule magic users are discouraged from interacting with it.

"Hrn"

"What did you say happened to you so far Hal?"

"Uhm, density shifting, invisibility and then a green dome-like shield, a lot like my own energy constructs"

"that sounds like pretty standard stuff for a realms being"

"Soooo what, did one leave the afterlife and decide to follow me around or something?"

"I cannot conclusively say, I can only say that you've been close to one using its abilities"

Batman folds his arms over his chest, "We shouldn’t form theories on these findings alone, Zatanna are these realm beings dangerous?"

"Hard to say, they come in all manner of forms, some small and harmless and others on the level of world destroying gods."

Great great great, awesome, well it’s probably safe to say that whatever decided to stick around Hal isn’t small and harmless, cause small and harmless doesn’t sound strong enough to casually turn him intangible or invisible… he could be wrong though.

“I do advise caution, beings from the infinite realms also have the ability to possess someone, they call it overshadowing”

Batman’s lips thin and Hal tenses up, mind control of any kind is always awful.

“I’ll place a ward on you, as a precaution” energy starts to gather in her hands.

Batman moves for the door, “we might need to look into a way to force this being to reveal itself, it would be best if we could convince it to return to their realm”

“Well I mean-” Hal starts, “like I get that, but they have been a great help so far” 

“they are a security risk”

“I’m just saying, I am grateful that they kept me from being confined to the medical wing for who even knows how long, who knows they might just be shy, wouldn’t it be better to convince them to become our ally, like Deadman. instead of telling them to leave. just cause we don’t understand how they work yet doesn’t mean they are bad and should be booted out of our reality”

Batman narrows his eyes at Hal and turns to Zatanna who is finished with placing the ward on Hal, “Zatanna please send me all you have on the infinite realms, I will do my own research” and with that he sweeps out of the room, very dramatic.

“Ass” Hal whispers under his breath.

“He’s worried”

“well he’s being a dick about it, as usual” Hal’s fingers find his little plane once again “... hey do you think they could communicate through one of those oejah boards?”

Zatanna snorts, “it’s Ouija- and please don’t”

---

No information from the JLD has been useful so far in coaxing the realms being to reveal themselves and for the most part things just go on as usual.

“Whoever they are, they followed me when I went off planet and it might just be my imagination but I had a feeling that their stuff was a lot more… potent? out there? I don’t know it was kinda strange, it just felt stronger”

“but they didn’t reveal themselves to you?”

“nope, they must know that I know now too, so they have decided to just… go on as they always have I guess”

“hrn” Batman is leafing through files, because of this whole mess he’s uncovered hidden government organizations targeting occult entities as well as inhumane laws that stand directly opposed to the meta protection acts.

Why is he working with paper regarding this matter? Well it turns out there is a infinite realms being that can possess electronica and it was only because of the protections the JLD had put in place on the Watchtower that the entity didn’t overtake it in its entirety.

Watching Constantine freak out had been mildly entertaining but Zatanna had once again reminded Batman to be very careful, Batman had begrudgingly admitted he had made a slight misstep while digging for answers… in his head, not out loud, god forbid.

“this whole thing is turning out a lot bigger than we thought huh, good thing we are dealing with it now” Hal stretches his arms above his head, “anyway I am going to go grab something to eat”

“the rapport-” Batman doesn’t bother looking at him.

“yeah yeah” Hal doesn’t either while walking out of the room, dismissively flicking his hand, “don’t worry about it spooky”

Hal takes his little plane out on the way to the cafeteria and fiddles with it in his hand, once there he puts it on the table next to Barry before getting himself something to eat.

They catch up, Hal complains (bitches) about Batman, others come and go, Zatanna quickly checks up on the ward she placed which makes Barry raise an eyebrow at Hal, “Ghost protection”

“... no such thing”

Zatanna glares.

Hal can see them both gearing up to start the magic is just science we haven’t fully scienced out yet argument again, “alright! I’m full” he stands up, “if you need me I’ll be writing that rapport, later” and gets the hell out of there.

It’s when he has just reached his preferred spot to work on the boring paperwork stuff when the alarms go off throughout what he can only imagine must probably be the entire Watchtower.

It seems like something triggered all of the JLD’s defenses in one go.

Impressive, but also very worrying.

The rapport is going to have to wait.

People are gathering in the meeting room and Batman is already taking the lead, “status”

“as of a couple minutes ago there was a build up of as of yet unknown energy which then burst in the cafeteria knocking out Flash” Martian Manhunter says, “Zatanna says we are most likely dealing with another being from the infinite realms”

Superman groans, this means he’s out.

It’s a good thing they now have defenses against overshadowing though. Being effectively trapped in a space station (because currently the thing is on lockdown) where literally anyone could suddenly actually be the enemy is the kind of situation a whole slew of horror movies like to be about.

“We will need to be extremely careful while finding and then dealing with this entity”

It has certainly been quite some time since the Watchtower got directly hit like this.

Hal pulls out his little plane.

or, he would, if he still had it.

thoroughly distracted now he suddenly realizes it’s no longer on his person.

Spooky is probably not going to like it if during the infinite realms attacker hunt he takes the opportunity to look around for his missing little fighter jet.

well what he doesn’t know won’t harm him.

His plan of looking for the plane while looking for the ghost is working out well enough.

In fact it is working out so good that he finds both at the same time.

At that point Hal had started wondering if maybe Barry had picked it up for him at the cafeteria before the attack happened and that the little thing was now in the medical wing with him. 

That turned out to clearly not be the case once he found the tiny thing glowing green and floating in the middle of the hallway.

“alright ghosty, that’s really important to me and I would like it back undamaged”

the tiny plane turned to now point directly at him, hmm, yeah that's not creepy at all.

 “... please don’t launch yourself at me” he foolishly says which of course means that’s exactly what it does next.

He uses his ring to construct a net with a pillow inside to catch the tiny jet, completely forgetting that it’s overshadowed and can thus easily just go intangible and right through his creations.

Instead it hits him square in the chest, rather painfully he might add and then just stops glowing and drops, making Hal scramble to not have it fall and shatter in a million tiny pieces on the ground.

immediately all the sensors stop detecting the presence of a realms being and the alarms die down.

Whatever was in the Watchtower has left the building.

or…

Hal looks down at the tiny plane in his hands, his talisman of protection and has a sinking feeling in his gut.

“Hey there little guy, might want to explain yourself?” he says to the tiny jet.

It vibrates in his hands.

“... yeah I figured, shit”

---

“I say just smash the bloody thing and be done with it, preferably that takes care of it once and for all” Constantine glares down at the tiny jet.

Hal is almost halfway over the table to shield the little thing, covering it from Constantine’s sight with his hand, “don’t you dare” he growls.

“it would be best for everyone involved, for all we known you could have gone full liminal what with how long you’ve been carrying the blasted thing around”

Zatanna is going over the little thing with her own magic, “it’s trapped”

“In that case just straight up trying to murder it would be the worst thing to do” Hal glares at Constantine some more. Who clearly doesn’t give a shit, figures, all stressed out about dealing with things from the infinite realms but whenever he feels he has the upper hand he’s more than happy to go full nuclear.

“it would be best if we had a way of figuring out their intentions” Batman looks down at the tiny jet impassively.

“Well, another reason to just carefully release this creature instead” Hal responds.

Zatanna’s magic fades away, “I would say that the fact it’s been protecting Hal for as long as he has it is a positive sign”

“hrn, but now it has gone and knocked Flash out, so what does that say” Batman huffs, “it’s too risky”

“Constantine and I will set up everything we can so it won’t be able to escape or try anything dangerous” Zatanna stops looking at Batman and turns back to the tiny plane, “if it turns out to be malicious we could simply banish it back to the realms, killing it would be rather stupid, we do not know what kind of connections it might have within the realms, we might accidentally anger something far worse with such a rash act”

Constantine groans but accepts Zatanna’s reasoning, Batman nods as well.

It’s only then that Hal moves out of the way.

Any plans of attack or banishment fly right out of the window once the two magic users are done and a young boy manifests from the tiny fighter jet.

Hal pushes Constantine aside to get to the boy’s side.

“Jordan, are you insane! Get back here!” 

“Hey, kid, can you hear me? please open your eyes, slowly, take your time” 

Batman has also moved forward much to Constantine’s frustration. Don't these two morons get that their protections won’t do shit if you just casually stroll into the circle?

Batman is mostly concerned in being able to step in should the boy prove to be a hostile entity anyway, but at the same time… well, that’s a child.

The boy kind of dazedly opens his eyes, looks at Hal and then seems to become aware of his own arms and hands, after opening and closing those a couple times he looks back at Hal and lets out a breath that can only be described as relieved and promptly passes out into him.

Well, Hal figures that settles it then. He doesn’t know shit about looking after a kid, and definitely not one who is probably quite dead, but this one is his, back off Batman.

they all startle rather violently when rings of blinding white light pass over the boy and suddenly the kid in Hal’s arms is a bit warmer and seems to have a sluggish pulse and also his clothes are different and his hair is now black and-

Hal is up and moving towards the medical wing before his mind catches back up with him. He can hear Batman behind him, it seems like Constantine and Zatanna aren’t moving after him as fast.

Well anyway his life is already so goddamn weird, this might as well happen.

[spiderfunkz]

MISERY LOVES COMPANY

cho hyun-ju x f!reader

cw: gender dysphoria, struggles with identity, fluff, the use of 'y/n' like once. inspired by young-mi's "you're beautiful, unnie".

it was finally time to rest. this has been more stressful than you imagined, the blue badge by your chest representing the opposite of your thoughts. you wanted to continue, ignoring all the mean quips given when voting. you knew the risks, but it meant more than anything to pay off all of your debts. to finally live life with no more worries.

but of course it is with struggle. the games were so difficult, but you didn't want to die because of a children's game. that's just so pathetic, is what you think. truly, you wanted to go home, to your tiny cramped apartment. to be able to sleep on the thin mattress you took take for granted.

you couldn't sleep like this. so you got up to go to the restroom, after some debating with the guard, you were let in. you remembered when you were younger, people seemed to think nobody could beat you in a debate, you still believe that is true.

your skin was tainted in blood, your hair was so messy, and you felt so extremely tired. you stood in front of the sink, trying your best to scratch away all the blood that seemed engraved in your skin.

that's when you noticed someone beside you.

she was beautiful. so, so, so beautiful. her hair was tied back in a ponytail, her nails were painted— you've seen her earlier.

player 120. you noticed her earlier during the games, how she seemed so brave and fearless. you wished you had that sort of bravery, maybe then, it would've been easier for you.

but in this light, she seemed rather sad.

"are you okay?" you ask, your voice was shaky. were you nervous?

she looks at you, nodding. this was your chance to open a topic. find a friend, that's something you've been struggling to do this entire time. you've gone through many different players throughout all the games so far, you realized forming allies wasn't your best suit.

"i'm y/n," you give her your best smile,

"hyun-ju." she replies, you think you could listen to her voice for hours. "that's pretty," you hummed, "your name is very pretty."

you see her cheer up slightly, "thank you."

"i have been saying, you know— people who have really pretty names are the prettiest themselves." the blood on your skin seemed to have gone away. as if your worries went with it.

"you don't mean that."

"i do."

you observe her, oh how she was gorgeous. "you are very beautiful, hyun-ju." you smile again, she smiles in return. "would you like to be friends? i've had very little luck with finding friends here,"

she nods, profusely. "i would love to."

"okay then, nice to meet you, hyun-ju." she shakes your hand. from here and on, you've got a feeling this game would go by much easier.

[heyimkana]

24 Hours with You (Satoru Ver.) - Ep. 1

Series Masterlist Chapter Summary: The first episode of a mini-series where you’ll live through the hours you spend together with your husband, Gojo Satoru. Pairings: Gojo Satoru x Female Reader Genre: Domestic AU, Fluff, Romance, Smut, Humor Word Count: 8K Warnings: whipped, clingy husband!Satoru, sassy!Y/N, shoujo manga inspired backstory, endless sex jokes, and overall cavity-inducing fluff with a little bit of smut at the end (no actual sex scenes...yet)

Episode 1: Morning

06.02 AM

Your very much-needed sleep abruptly comes to an end the moment your husband’s alarm—not yours—begins to ring, his phone vibrating on the nightstand next to his side.  You try to ignore it. You really do. After all, he just let you go to sleep three hours ago.

Granted, yesterday was Valentine’s Day and there was no way someone as insatiable as Gojo Satoru was going to end it with just one or two rounds of normal sex, especially not after he went out of his way, spending hundreds of bucks to buy you a set of lingerie that he’d been dying to see. He made sure to dress you up (you’re his favorite doll after all), his grin plastered ever so cheekily on his face. He held his phone steady in one hand, recording the way you not-so-gracefully stepped outside the bathroom in your new lingerie, dying out of shame because—“What the hell did you buy me?!” Which he casually replied with, “A bunny suit. Now turn around and let me see your tail.” To be honest, that wasn’t even the worst part.

(The worst part was when he said, “Now is my little bunny hungry for some carrots? ‘Cause I got a real nice and big carrot for you right over he—” He didn’t get to finish his line. You punched him.)

The alarm continues to ring, playing a song that you grow to hate more and more each day. “Ugh, turn it off.” 

Satoru doesn’t even stir in his sleep, which comes as no surprise. He’s still lying flat on his stomach, facing you with his cheek drowning in the comfort of his pillow. He looks peaceful. Innocent. Even when his parted lips are still somewhat smeared with the color of your lipstick. And he’s drooling—in an adorable way, of course.

“Satoru.” You nudge his shoulder. “Sa. To. Ru.”

No reaction. It’s like talking to a dead cow. You groan, your upper body pressing against his backside as you reach out to snatch his phone from the nightstand. With bleary eyes, you turn off his alarm before returning it to the table. You fall back to the side of your bed, flinching as your body still feels sore from last night. 

A smile forms on your face. Finally, it’s quiet again. 

You still have two more hours before you have to leave for work. I can still sleep for one hou—

The alarm starts again, playing the same damn song. 

Of course. How could you forget? Satoru’s the type who sets his alarm every ten minutes just because he’ll totally ignore the first fifteen times. Are you really this tired to not remember this? Yeah, probably.

You pull your blanket over your head. Maybe you can just pay no attention to it like your husband.

Just ignore it, ignore it, ignore it.

Yeah, you can’t.

You toss away your blanket, frustrated. “Satoru, turn it off!”

Finally, the devil wakes up. He moans, his voice husky and heavy with sleep, sounding so effortlessly sexy but you’re just too irritated to acknowledge it that way. “What’s up with the loud noise..?” Sinking back into his pillow and tugging his bedcover up until it reaches his ear, he mumbles, “Honey, I’m still sleepy… Let’s fuck some other time…”

“Oh, we’ll fuck never if you don’t wake up and turn that damn thing off.”

“It’s your alarm.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes.”

“Toru, it’s literally Hatsune Miku playing.”

He giggles, still with his eyes closed. “I love Hatsune Miku.”

“Oh, for God’s sake.” You repeat your motions, basically throwing yourself over him so you can reach his nightstand. Satoru lets out a little oof under your weight, groaning. “Babe, what—” You turn a deaf ear to him, making sure to sink your elbow into his back because he deserves it. Once you get his phone in your hand, you switch it off—the phone, not the alarm. “There. Done.” You slap back his device to the table. “Now let’s go back to sleep.”

You’re about to jump back to your side when a pair of strong arms tangle themselves around your waist, pulling you down until you land face-first on his bare chest. “I don’t think so, pumpkin,” he simpers, nuzzling the tip of his nose against the crook of your neck. Suddenly, he’s as bright as daylight. “I can’t believe you’re being so aggressive this morning. Did we not do it enough last night?” He puckers his lips, baby-talking you when he says, “Is my little baby bunny still hungry for her carrot?”

“Satoru, I’ll say this as nicely as I can. Release me now or there will be blood.”

“How is that nice?” He pouts, jutting out his lower lip. He’s hitting thirty and he still thinks he’s adorable when he does that (he is, actually, but let’s not tell him that). 

Now, boyfriend Satoru would have insisted on holding you close, but husband Satoru? Oh, husband Satoru has gone through some pain. He knows better not to test you. He releases you with a sigh, his eyes drooping like a sad puppy as he watches you crawl back to your spot. “You’re so mean.”

“You love me that way.”

The corners of his lips twitch up again. “That I do.” 

Satoru turns around to his side, gazing at you with the bottom half of his face concealed by the blanket he shared with you. He doesn’t really tell this often, but he loves seeing you in the morning like this. That silky nightgown. Those kiss marks on your neck and shoulders. The way your hair is so messy from all the tugging and pulling he did last night. You’re his masterpiece.

“What?” You ask, unable to sleep with how he glues his eyes on you.

“Nothing,” he smiles to himself. “You’re so pretty.”

At this hour? “That’s bullshit.”

“It’s true!”

“Well, thank you for the praise, my dear husband, but complimenting me isn’t going to make me give you a blow job at six in the morning, so can you stop staring and let me sleep? I have work in two hours. One hour and a half now ‘cause you keep on yapping at me.”

To anyone else, you would sound vicious, but like you said so yourself, this is why he loves you. To Satoru, you look the prettiest when you’re annoyed, especially when you’re annoyed because of him. It makes him feel special in such a weird way. Having spent all his life being objectified by women—and men—for his looks, and treated with endless flattery because he came from a prestigious family, you, with your feisty attitude, appeared in his world like a breath of fresh air. 

(Or maybe he’s just a masochist.)

With lips curving in joy, he pokes your cheek. “Babe, babe.”

“Go to sleep, damn it.”

“I will after you answer my question.”

“Just one?”

“Just one. Promise.”

“Fine. What?”

“Do you remember when we first met?”

You open your lids, staring flatly at the ceiling above you. This dumbass is really trying to play his nostalgia card at six in the morning. You take a glance at him from the corner of your eye. He has stars in his eyes. Great. You know he’s expecting a long answer but it’s too fucking early for this. “Yes.”

“You do?” He props himself up on his elbows, his voice a pitch higher. He’s basically sparkling, giddy with excitement. “What was it like for you? What did you think about me? Did you like me from the very first start? Did the world freeze when your eyes met mine? Hehe, I bet you had a massive crush on me~ I see you’re not saying anything so is it true? You totally did, didn’t you? Oh my God, baby, that’s so cute!”

You just lie there on the bed, half-dead, half-deaf, zero energy and he keeps prattling in your ear. “You’re really not gonna let me go back to sleep, huh?”

“Nope,” Satoru replies, making sure to smack his lips in case he wasn’t irritating enough. “Hey, hey, answer me, answer me.”

Somebody kill me, please. “Okay, fine, you wanna know the truth? I used to hate your guts.”

“Eeeeeeeeh?” 

“Don’t eeeeeeh me.” You pinch his cheek, ruining his pretty pout. “We couldn’t stand each other during high school, remember?”

“I never hated you, though?” He’s sliding his arms under his pillow, hugging it close as he peers at you with a twinkle in his eyes. “I’ve always found you cute,” he confesses, followed by a girly squeal. Satoru buries his face in the pillow, his legs flapping against the bed. “Aaaaah~ Saying it out loud like that is so embarrassing~”

“I’m gonna punch you.”

“No, seriously. You’ve never heard me saying I hated you, have you? And you know me. I hold my grudges. If I hated you, I would’ve made your life a living hell. But I didn’t, right?” He takes your hand, his thumb gliding across your knuckles before he replaces it with his lips. “I made you the happiest woman in the world instead.”

“With your money.”

“With my love,” he corrects you, flicking your nose. “Do me a favor and try to remember the first time we met. Didn’t I show you enough how much I liked you?”

The first time we met?

Okay, a little flashback.The first time you met him, it felt like you were living the life of a shoujo manga protagonist. Remember all those corny stories you read back in middle school? When character A—a female lead who was so clumsy, it was a wonder she survived the whole trip to school—met character B—the handsome male lead who seemed aloof and mysterious but turned out to be nothing but a warmhearted kid with a traumatizing backstory—in front of the school’s gate where they exchanged long stares filled with yearning and affection even though they just met? It always happened in the spring, for some reason, at the beginning of a new term. There were cherry blossom petals fluttering in the background, the words thump thump and syalala~ scattered all over the page among her inner monologue that went something like, “What a handsome boy… He looks like Prince Charming… And he has such long eyelashes too… Oh no, what is this feeling? Calm down, my heart! At this rate, he’s going to hear it!” Remember those corny lines? Yeah, well, your story went down just about the same.

“What are you panicking about? Just climb up and jump.”

“I can’t climb—I’m wearing a skirt!”

“You’re worried that I’ll see your panties? Honey, please, I’m a gentleman. I won’t stare. Plus, polka-dot panties aren’t my thing.”

“HOW DO YOU KNOW I’M WEARING POLKA-DOT PANTIES?!”

Okay, maybe your story didn’t go exactly the same. But it’s true that you first met him in the spring, at the beginning of the school’s term. There were no cherry blossom trees swaying in the background because God hated you and He wasn’t that fond of adding pretty things into your life. Gojo Satoru was pretty, sure, but only until he started yapping. And knowing Satoru, he’s always yapping.

You had promised yourself earlier that day that you’d do better. Be better. No more running late to school, no more procrastinating on your homework, and maybe even try to socialize more with people (you shuddered at the thought). You didn’t wake up late that morning, and you went to school just on time but there was a car accident on your way there, forcing you to take a detour, so—

“I hate my life,” you grumbled to yourself, staring tiredly at your high school’s gate in your fresh uniform that was no longer as crisp and tidy as it was from all the running you did. The huge wrought iron gate was closed and locked. The students were already sitting in rows inside the hall, sleeping through your principal’s morning greeting. You had your bag slinging on one shoulder, your short, pleated skirt swaying as it was kissed by the wind. Your hair was sticking uncomfortably to your skin, glued by your sweat. So much for wanting to keep perfect attendance, you thought. This is the worst.

Little did you know that God in heaven was like, “Worst? Oh, honey, I’m just getting started.”

Because there he was, a devil sent from the deepest pit of hell. Your ‘Prince Charming’, walking out of a fancy black car and kicking the door closed without even thanking the poor driver. Gorgeous silver hair. Electric blue eyes. Piercing in his right ear and a bubblegum lollipop in his mouth. 

Gojo Satoru.

He was a second-year student just like you but that was all you had in common. He was popular, so popular, and you didn’t have to think long to figure out why. He was a prodigy, excelling in both sports and academics, never failing to rank first in every exam, and it was so exasperating because he never seemed to pay attention to any of his classes. He was just born smart. And rich. Always carrying the new iPhone, never wearing the same outfit when he traveled outside. His Instagram was filled with photos of him taking trips to Greece and outer space (not true). His socks were made of rare breed silkworm’s saliva and his shirts were ironed by a dozen crying maidens (also not true). Apparently, his father was this big CEO who worked really closely with the government so you often heard his family name mentioned on TV. And, to top it all, he was handsome. Like unbelievably handsome. Even you had to admit that. Ridiculously tall, naughty smirk, pretty voice. He was the boy that Taylor Swift would make a whole album about.

Lucky bitch.

“I know,” Satoru said, noticing the way you were staring at him as he walked closer to your spot. He pulled the lollipop out of his mouth, gazing down at you (because, again, he was as tall as a tree) with one corner of his lips raised higher than the other. “I’m handsome.”

You weren’t exactly staring at him because he was handsome—okay, yeah, maybe you did. A little. “You’re late too?”

You had never interacted with him before and you were 99.9% sure he didn’t know your name, so maybe you should’ve started by introducing yourself to him. Or telling him not to be so cocky ‘cause who the hell started a conversation like that?

“Yep.” He plopped his lollipop back into his mouth, coloring his tongue blue. “But unlike you, I chose to be late. Needed my beauty sleep, you see, but you get that.” He stretched out both hands in the air, cracking his neck. A little strip of perfect fair skin was shown above his belt but you looked away, clearing your throat. 

“So,” he yawned. “Are you going to climb first or should I?”

“What?”

“The gate, genius.”

“You want me to climb up the gate?” 

“How else are you planning to go inside?”

“Well, true, but…” You looked around. Your usual school guard was nowhere in sight. Yes, the gate was quite high and you could hurt yourself making your way down but he could lend you a hand, right? It would be easy. You could stealthily slip yourself into the student’s hall after that. No one would notice. There would be no problem.

Well, aside from one thing.

“What are you panicking about? Just climb up and jump.”

“I can’t climb—I’m wearing a skirt.”

Satoru arched an eyebrow before he chuckled. “You’re worried that I’ll see your panties? Honey, please, I’m a gentleman. I won’t stare. Plus, polka-dot panties aren’t my thing.”

You blanched. “How do you know I’m wearing polka-dot panties?!”

“Oh, I got it right?” He rolled his lollipop to the side of his mouth for the sake of putting his annoying smile on display. “I must be a psychic or something. On top of my good-looking face? God really does have His favorite, huh?”

“Probably 'cause He feels sorry for giving you such a shitty personality.”

His jaw dropped. He knew he had a shitty personality but he thought girls loved that about him. “Well, aren’t you feisty,” he muttered, and you were worried for a split second that you might have upset him—not that you cared about his feelings specifically, you just didn’t want to jeopardize your connection with him (He was rich, okay? It would be great for your future career if you were friends with someone like him). But then, Satoru stuck his hands inside the pockets of his pants, leaning close with his lips pulled back in a cheeky grin. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met. Wanna go on a date?”

Oh, that did it. Those little chances of you having a crush on him? Gone. “Gross.”

“Ouch, okay, that actually hurts,” he pouted, rubbing the center of his chest where you just shoved him. After taking a moment to examine your face—you really did look like you wanted to kill him—Satoru gave up with a sigh, shrugging. “Well, whatever. I’m going in.” He pivoted on his heels, making his way toward the gate. “I’ll see you never, Polky.”

“Wait!” 

He clicked on his tongue, turning around to say, “Yell louder, will ya? Our school’s guard is practically deaf but I’m sure people in China would love to hear what you have to say.”

“You’re annoyingly talkative.”

“Part of my charm,” he replied. “I feel bad for you for not seeing it, honestly. Now, what is it? First period’s about to start.”

You thought about it, your eyes flying back toward the double-door gate that was attached to the compound wall. It looked sturdy enough to maintain both of your weights. If you made the jump, you’d still have the chance of being the perfect student for the rest of the semester. But did you really want to ask for his help? He was definitely not going to let it go if that was the case. Oh, you knew he was going to be so annoying about it.

“Any day now, cupcake.”

Yeah, I’m not doing it. You weren’t the type who was so against swallowing your pride if the circumstances demanded you to, but if it involved him? You’d rather die. “You know what, it’s fine. I’ll just go home.”

“What?” He knitted his eyebrows, watching you spin around on your heels. You were truly a piece of work, huh? So stubborn to admit that you needed his help. Throwing back his head and groaning dramatically, he exclaimed, “Ugh, fine. Just give me your bag.”

“What—Hey!” 

With nimble hands, Satoru managed to snatch it away before you could let the thought sink through. He carried it with one hand, not stopping under your command. You chased after him, and you were so close to getting it back before he flung your bag to the other side of the gate—and so carelessly, mind you. 

You watched it land on the ground in horror. “Are you crazy?! I got my iPad in there!”

“Whoops,” he grinned, clearly didn’t feel sorry in the slightest. “Okay, your turn, Princess. Come on, I’ll give you a lift.” 

Ugh, why is this happening to me? Left with no choice, you made your way to him. “Don’t call me that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He bent his body forward, exaggerating a bow. “I meant, it is now your turn, oh her Royal Highness of the Democratic Republic of Polkaland—”

You pushed him down by the shoulders. “Shut up and get down on your knees.”

“Oooh, so demanding~” he cooed, but his flirty tone vanished instantly the moment he felt your foot stepping on his shoulder.  “Whoa, wait—dude, your shoes!” 

Okay, that was your bad. Should’ve taken them off before you did that. Now his black blazer was painted with soil. “Sorry,” you winced. “I’ll help you clean later.”

“Yeah, yeah. You weigh like a ton, by the way.” Oh, you know what? He deserved it. Actually, he deserved more dirt. “Are you rubbing your soles on me?” He gasped.

“You wanted clean shoes, right?”

“Not by using me!”

You ignore him, curling your fingers around the iron bars. “I’m going up. Promise me you won’t look.”

Satoru sighed. “Like I said, I’m not interested in seeing your—aw, aw, aw, aw!” Tears emerged in his eyes. Not only were you stepping on him, you were also using his head to maintain your balance, gripping his strands a little too tightly when you felt that you were seconds away from slipping. “Fuck—Stop pulling on my hair!”

“I’m trying not to fall!” You regained your balance. Feeling a bit sorry, you placed both hands on the bars, gripping them firmly as you stood on his shoulders. You stretched out one arm, fingers clawing against the iron as you tried to reach the top. You got it. Now, all you needed to do was pull yourself up. 

On the count of three. One… Two… Three… Pull!

Eh?

“What now?” Gojo asked, his patience wearing thin. His shoulders were throbbing in pain. You weren’t actually that heavy for him. It was the way you were stepping on him, treating him like mud that’s the issue.

You felt your cheeks growing hot, your voice reduced to whispers when you answered, “I can’t do it.”

“What?”

“I can’t pull myself up, okay?!” You yelled in shame. You had calculated everything except for the part where you barely had any muscles in your arms to carry your own weight. “I’m too weak!”

“And you couldn’t have thought about that before you used me as your doormat?!”

“See, this is why I told you I was going home!”

“But your bag is over there—”

“WHOSE FAULT DO YOU THINK THAT IS?!”

Oh, both of you were giving each other headaches for sure. “Okay, let’s try another plan,” Satoru said. “I’ll go first and I’ll pull you up.”

“Can you? You’re built like a twig and you said I weighed a ton.”

“It was a joke, Polky, lighten up. And excuse me, I have muscles, all right? You just can’t tell underneath all these clothes I’m wearing.”

“It was a joke, Twiggy, lighten up.”

“Oh, you little—”

“Enough, we don’t have much time.” You climbed down his shoulders, exhaling in relief once you were back on the ground. “Want me to give you a push?”

“As much as I would loveto use you as my doormat, I got this.” He brushed the dirt off his shoulder and tossed his lollipop to the nearest bin. “You just stand there and look pretty,” he winked. “And try not to fall in love with me too fast.” 

Before you could land a kick to his shin, Satoru made his leap, making it look so easy that it almost convinced you to give it another go. He sat down on the top rail—thank God, this gate didn’t have any finials—with his legs settled on both sides to maintain his balance. He took a quick scan of his surroundings to make sure you were alone before he tossed his own bag to the ground. “Okay, I think we’re safe.”

Satoru returned his attention to you, and for a moment, you exchanged stares. “What?” You narrowed your eyes, suspicious. He just grinned, flashing his teeth and you knew he was up to something again. “No,” you mumbled out as realization dawned on you. “You’re going to leave me here?!”

“Abandoning my princess? Of course not.” His eyes glinted with mischief. “Say that you’ll go on a date with me and I’ll pull you up.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Am not.”

“I don’t even know you.”

“Well, this is your chance to get to know me,” he smirked. “Come on, just one date. I’ll take you somewhere fancy.”

“Not interested.”

His smile slowly began to fade the more you rejected him. “You’re seriously saying no?”

“Want to hear it in German? Nee.”

“That’s Dutch.”

“Whatever.”

Satoru took a moment to himself, both confused and baffled (and a bit amused, actually). But surely, no one would reject the Gojo Satoru, right? Yet, there you were, glaring at him as you said so. “Huh,” he poked his tongue against his cheek. You weren’t sure whether he found you vexing or even more… interesting. He accepted his defeat with a heavy exhale, just for now. “Fine. Call me Your Majesty then. If you do it cutely, maybe I’ll pull you up.”

“Oh my God, why are you suchan ass, Satoru?”

“Oh, the princess knows my name!” He claimed in delight, already forgetting the shame from your rejection. “It’s about time you tell me yours.”

“Yes, it’s Miss Fuck Off from Class B. Now, give me your hand and pull me up!”

“Say the magic word then.”

Oh, this isn’t worth it. This is so not worth it. “Fine,” you said, and to his surprise, you whirled around and walked away.

“Wait, you’re leaving?” His smirk faltered. “What about your bag, Sweetheart?”

You didn’t bother to look back. “I don’t care. I’ll get it tomorrow.”

“That’s stupid!”

“I’d feel stupider if I had to kiss your ass.”

“Would you prefer to kiss my lips instead?”

“Goodbye!” 

You stomped away. For a couple of seconds, there was silence, and you thought, oh, I actually managed to shut him up. You mentally gave yourself a pat on the back. You might not have your bag with you. Or your wallet. Or your phone. And if you were really planning to go home like this then you’d have to walk for five blocks, but! At least you got to leave him speechless. That was quite an achievement, wasn’t it?

“If you come with me I’ll pay for your iPad!”

You’re back at the gate. “Would you be so kind as to lend me a hand, your majesty?”

Satoru laughed. A genuine laugh actually came out from the devil’s mouth. It almost felt strange. Somewhere deep down, you imagined that he’d have a creepy laugh, or maybe even maniacal. But no. His laugh was so, so adorable. So boyish. So…heartwarming. It was the kind of laughter that would make you smile even when you were clueless of what he was laughing about.

“You’re funny, I like you,” he said, sending tingles to your cheeks which turned you completely into the typical shoujo manga protagonist. 

Eew, what the fuck, did my heart just skip a beat? Gross.

Congratulations. You just had your first shoujo manga-worthy inner monologue.

Satoru extended his hand. “You better hold tight, Princess.”

“If you let go, I’ll kill you.”

“I’ll keep you safe, I promise.” Another smile, and there it was again. Your heart doing things inside your chest. You tried to find some excuse, blaming all of this on his looks.

Satoru pulled you up, holding you securely yet so gently by the waist once you reached the top rail. He held you close, noticing how you were shaking a little bit when you felt the fence rattle underneath your weight. This is strong enough to hold us both, right? You couldn’t help but worry. When you were finally sure you were fine, you began to notice the pleasant, intoxicating smell lingering on the little space between you. His scent… It was wonderful—sumptuous and warm, and you figured, that described him perfectly as a person. A mix of cedar woods and cypress, with a bit of sweetness to it. It almost reminded you of—

“The Last Day of Summer.”

You blinked twice. “Huh?” 

“My perfume,” he smirked. “The Last Day of Summer by Gucci. You like it?”

“What—no,” you scoffed. “I didn’t even notice it. You smell like sweat.”

“Is that so?” He was definitely not buying your bluff, but he played along, just for a moment. Satoru leaned in, his right hand moving from the dip of your waist to your wrist, his fingers covering yours. You could feel the tips of his strands tickling your cheek, your body freezing up the moment his breath grazed your neck. You found yourself holding your own, your eyes closing shut when he took a sniff at you.

Wait. Sniff?

Satoru pulled away, scrunching up his nose. “I think that’s you, Polky. Did you miss your shower this morning or what?”

“I will push you.”

“Aaw, but then who’ll help you get back down?” He tugged you toward him, his face hovering just a few inches above yours. He tapped his finger against your nose, matching the words he said, “Not. So. Smart. Are you, baby?”

“You—”

“HEY! YOU TWO!” 

The thundering voice of a man caused you both to flinch. Your gym teacher—Yaga Masamichi—was there, probably glaring from behind his sunglasses and fuming in his sweaty track pants. “What are you doing?! It’s your first day and you’re sneaking out already?!”

“Interesting point,” Satoru answered, unbothered. “We’re actually planning to sneak in.”

“Teacher’s office. Now.” He didn’t have the patience—or maybe the time?—to stay and lecture you both. He walked away, grousing under his breath.

You let out a heavy sigh. It was only ten in the morning and you already felt so tired. Unlike you, Satoru was still brimming with energy. If anything, he seemed even cheerier than before. “Well, it sucks that we got caught but we had fun, right?”

“Let’s just get this over with.”

“Okay, Miss Grumpy.” He so casually ruffled your hair as if you had been friends for years. “I’ll go first.” He hopped off the fence, landing back on earth almost as gracefully as a cat. You wished you could follow his lead but from that height? You weren’t so confident. “It’s all right, Princess,” he said, noticing your worry. “I’ll be here to catch you.” 

That was actually one of your concerns. Not because he didn’t seem like he’d be capable of doing so, but more of what would come after he caught you. 

You’d be… in his arms, right? And then what?

Fuck, it’s just Satoru. You didn’t even care about him until now. Just jump.

So, you did. Without thinking too much about it, you removed your hands from the railing, but you didn’t jump toward him as you were too stubborn—and embarrassed—to do so. The chance of killing yourself over this was close to zero, right? You’d be fine.

You could feel your feet touching the ground. You were okay. Or at least, you thought you were. Your shoes, unfortunately, weren’t made to do such a reckless stunt. Your soles were too slippery, and like stepping on ice, you lost your footing, your eyes burned by the blazing sunlight as you felt gravity pull you down.

Until a pair of arms wrapped themselves around your waist.

“For God’s sake,” Satoru said, and you felt his words reverberating from his chest since you had your face pressed against it. He sighed, removing one hand from your hips to cup the back of your head. “You should’ve jumped towards me, you idiot.” You could feel his long fingers slipping between your locks, forgetting to breathe air into your lungs when he pulled away, gazing at you solemnly. “Look, it’s cute to be stubborn and not want to ask for my help, but what would you do if you got hurt?”

It’s corny to say this (actually, everything that had happened in the last fifteen minutes was corny. You weren’t sure why your life—and yourself—had turned into this state. You were doing okay before he showed up in your life.) but you were lost in his gaze. The sky above you was brilliant blue, so breathtaking as it was painted by God Himself, and yet… When you compared that to his eyes... 

They’re so pretty… He has such long eyelashes too…

(You have got to stop reading shoujo manga. Seriously. Maybe head over to shounen. Blood, death, and eternal suffering—that would stop you from thinking about his lashes.)

Satoru was close. So, so close, that a butterfly awakened in your chest.And was it just your imagination or was he leaning even closer to you?

“Huh…” he mumbled out. Locking your eyes together, he gazed deep into yours, not romantically—though you were too consumed by his stare to tell the difference. It was more like… He was in awe. 

You fidgeted. “W-what?”

“Your eye color changes a little under the sun,” he smiled, sweet and youthful. “Pretty.”

Mush. There was only mush in your head. And Satoru. “You—You’re too close! Get off me!”

He giggled, easily catching your hand before you could shove him away. “You’re blushing? So cute~”

“Why are you two still here?!” Yaga, the same teacher from before, returned with a volleyball in hand. Apparently, he left earlier to get his equipment. “Didn’t I tell you to go already?!”

“We’re going!” Satoru released you, clicking his tongue in annoyance—maybe a habit? “I swear to God, that man needs to get laid.”

“I heard that, Satoru!”

“I wanted you to hear that, Sensei!”

“Are you crazy?!” You slapped his chest. “That’s a teacher you’re talking to!”

“Relax, my grandpa owns this school. He can’t touch me.”

Why am I not surprised? Biting back your sigh, you took a step back, only to realize, great, I bruised my ankle.

He noticed, even when you were trying your best to hide it. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” you said, doing as best as you could to walk without limping. “Thanks for the help. I’ll see you never.”

He matched your steps. “Did you sprain your ankle?”

“Just a bruise.”

“We should visit the infirmary first, just in case.”

“We?”

“I can’t possibly let you go alone.” He sounded like you were asking a dumb question. “Half of this was my fault anyway.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you threw my bag—”

“Because I’m so handsome that you felt too shy to just jump into my arms,” he spoke over you. His lips curving. “Wouldn’t have injured yourself if you just did what I said. But don’t worry. I’m sure there will be another chance.”

I hope not, you shuddered.

“Seems like you’re in pain, Sweetheart.”

“I’m fine.” 

“Want me to carry you?” He beamed at you. “Piggyback ride? I can do it bridal style too, if you want. It will be so cute, we can head toward the sunset together after school.”

“I’d rather die. And stop following me. I’m heading to the restroom.”

“Running away from me? Coward.”

“You want me to pee on you? ‘Cause I’ll do it.”

“Kinky, but maybe some other time.”

Thankfully though, he listened to you this time, returning back the privacy you’d been craving since the moment he opened his mouth. He watched you walk away, his lips slowly curving back up as a new sense of excitement and joy filled his chest. “Hey, Princess!” He shouted, making sure that you’d hear his next words even with the distance between you. “I’ll see you on Sunday!”

“For what?!”

“Our date!”

“Oh, fuck off!”

And that was it. That was how you met your husband. To sum up, he had no sense of delicacy, he talked too much, had no respect for your personal space, and the way he snickered every time he saw you? Ugh. Yes, he was pretty. Yes, he made your heart race. But you’re not that shallow of a woman to be with someone just because of their looks so nothing ever happened. Not right away, at least.

These childish banters and unfortunate meetings kept occurring during your years in high school. And as if that wasn’t enough, God reunited you once again in college. You thought you were cursed. He thought it was destiny. You still remember how you used to hold yourself back from ripping out his hair whenever he walked up to you, grinning from ear to ear while singing—not calling—out your name. But then you had this one class with him during your final year and your professor put you two on the same project together. You started getting to know him better, and you found out that Satoru had more sides to him, more complex than just a little brat who craved your attention. You got closer. You stopped rejecting his calls. You missed his cheeky grins when he wasn’t around. And when he kissed you when you were crying because your dog just died? It wasn’t that bad. It was comforting. It was warm. And sweet. It was wonderful.

(Yes, out of all the times he could’ve picked, he kissed you after you buried the precious family member who’d wiggled his tail for you for seven years)

And before you know it, he asked you to be his forever and you said yes. Immediately. Undoubtedly. Wholeheartedly. 

“Earth to wifey~” Your husband Satoru pops his head back into your vision. The ceiling that you’ve been staring at for the last few minutes turns blurry behind him. You blink, placing your focus back on him. “You suddenly turned quiet. Is it really that hard to answer my question? Babe, if you tell me you forgot about our first meeting, I’m actually going to shed some real manly tears.”

You heaved out a sigh. “Actually, it’s the opposite. I remember it all too well.”

“Aaaw, baby~” He reaches over to kiss you, only to have you slap a palm over his face.

“Now that I think about it,” you say. “You were so annoying when we first met. And disrespectful.”

He blinks, sweating. “B-babe?”

“Not to mention narcissistic, selfish, impolite—”

“Wait, hold up—What’s going on?!”

“You called me Polky. You called me fat—”

“Wait, this is not the reaction I wanted—You’re supposed to fall deeper in love with me!”

“You threw my bag without permission. You never paid back for what you did to my iPad. You kissed me on my dog’s funeral—oh wow, you were a little piece of—”

“Okay, forget the past, forget the past! Remember that you love me!”

“I think you should go back to your side of the bed.”

“Babeeeeeeee, I’m sorryyyyyyyyy!” He whines, tackling you in a hug, and rubbing his face on your stomach. “You can have my credit card for today. Buy anything you want, okay? No limit.”

“Okay, deal.”

You shake his hand, and the deal is done. Mission accomplished.

“Why do I feel like I just got tricked?” Satoru pouts.

You gently pat his cheek, smiling. “Remember that you love me, honey.”

You can’t help but think that if cupids were real, your cupid must have worked overtime cause damn, what tough work it was to make you fall in love with his insufferable ass. 

“Ah! You just thought I’m insufferable, didn’t you?” Satoru asks, squinting his eyes.

You plant a brief kiss on his lips. “I think about you that way every day, my love.”

“You are so in love with me,” he giggles, snuggling closer to you. “Baby, baby, I’m cold.” He circles his arms around your waist again, landing a cute kiss on your shoulder. You can tell he’s smiling like a child, hugging you like a child, and as much as you want to go back to sleep, you can never find the strength to push him away when he’s like this.

“Fine, we can cuddle. But keep your mouth shut. I’m going to sleep.”

“Okay~”

“I’m serious.”

He pretends to zip up his mouth.

“Okay, good. Stay like that.”

Satoru nods. He holds onto his promise. He keeps his mouth shut.

Can’t say the same about his other body parts though. 

Because your husband is now grinding his hips against your behind, not too much, not too hard, just enough to make you notice that yup, he’s hard. His hands slip underneath your nightgown, skimming over your thighs before they press flat against your stomach. He’s so warm—he’s always warm—and every touch he paints on your skin is both comforting and provoking. 

“Satoru,” you warn him. 

He makes humming noises in response, basically telling you, “I’m keeping my mouth shut, just like you asked.” He’s bratty that way.

You sigh. You decide to let him be. It will take more energy to push him away anyway. Besides, even if he’s insatiable when it comes to sex, Satoru will never force you to do anything you don’t want to. You just have to ignore him.

Which is not an easy feat, unfortunately, because before long, his hands find their way to your breasts, cupping each one fully with his palms. He makes another noise, which you easily translate to “Good morning, girls~” (You know this because he said that almost every other morning). Giddy, Satoru finds himself giggling again, squeezing them from behind but in a way that is so not sexy. It’s like a kid trying out his new squeeze toy in Toys-R-Us. 

You roll your eyes. “Really?”

“Mm-hmm.” He starts playing with your nipples this time. Again, in a totally not sexy way. He’s tweaking, pinching, poking your buds inside with his point fingers, and watching them pop back out again. He’s tittering near your ear and you should really find him annoying but you can’t help but giggle too. He’s so dumb for even finding this entertaining.

“You are unbelievable,” you say, turning your head around just enough to kiss him. You hope for dear God, you don’t smell like your usual morning breath, but seeing how he doesn’t smell like one and still tastes like the whipped cream he had eaten (off your body) three hours ago, you figure you’ll be okay.

You don’t plan to take this further than a playful kiss but when you feel your husband groan against your mouth, pleased by the way you close your lips around his so perfectly, you know you’re losing your battle, and you don’t care. Who cares if you only had three hours of sleep and eight hours of stressful work ahead of you? Satoru tastes so sweet on your tongue. He always does. And you’re addicted to him.

With a little push, you have him lying back on the bed. He has one hand resting on your nape, holding your head firmly as he kisses you deeper. “Satoru,” you sigh against his mouth, his tongue rubbing against yours before he moves down to pepper kisses down your neck. He stays mute, but only because you told him to before (though if you knew it would lead to this, you wouldn’t have said so). Your husband may have the habit of spouting out stupid jokes one after another in his wake, but he always says the right thing during sex. The things you want to hear. The things you love to hear.

You can feel him smiling against your ear, your body shivering at the sensation of his breath caressing your skin. You can’t help but expect him to whisper something, something that you know will make you curl your toes in excitement. Last night he had you begging to turn every filthy word he spoke into action. Today, he just takes your earlobe between his lips, his breathing steady but heavy. The sound of his lips parting… The little mmm when he sucks on the sensitive spot… You're losing your mind.

His touch no longer feels light on your skin, drawing out hushed moans from your lips when he kneads your breasts, his thumb gliding against your nipple from over your gown. A soft chuckle brushes your ear. He knows how much you want to hear his voice. It doesn’t feel right to you, feels like something’s missing. But he won’t do that. Not until you start pleading.

But two can play at this game.

You sit down on his lap, the strap of your nightgown sliding down your shoulder just enough to tease. The sight of the purple bruises he left on your cleavage the night before entices him. You’re so pretty. So pretty when you’re marked and bruised. 

With both hands on his chest, you nibble on your lower lip, rubbing your against his hardness. “I need you inside me.”

“Fuck,” he groans, losing his battle. He starts whining when he sees you giggling. “Baby, that’s not fair. You never said that to me before.” 

“Really?” You roll your hips, rubbing him at the right spot, the right pace. The way you move is obscene. The thin fabrics separating your body from his only add more excitement to your already burning skin. “And does Daddy like it?”

His face nearly explodes. “Oh my God, stop. You’re torturing me.” He sits up only to grab you by the waist before he throws you back to bed with one arm. 

You find yourself laughing when he blows against your stomach, treating you like a child. “Stop, that tickles!”

“I asked you to call me Daddy in the last three years we’ve been married and you always kicked me in the face, and now you’re saying it just like that?”

“What, did you want it to be special? Should I go make you a bath filled with roses, put Hatsune Miku on speakers—”

“Oh, that’s it, come here!”

You’re laughing until you can’t breathe, your leg pulled and your arm pinned behind your back. He tickles your sides, his smile playful and bright, filled with mirth. This joy you both have, you’ve never shared it with anyone else. And maybe he feels that too. Because when he flips you around, pressing your bodies together, Satoru’s gaze turns soft. He leans close, gathering your face in his hand. There’s no laughter, no giggle, no mischief in his eyes, only honesty. His voice sounds deep yet gentle when he speaks, “I love you.”

No matter how often he’s said it in the past, how much he’s said it yesterday, it always feels like it’s the first time you hear the words. And it’s rare for you to say it back to him, but he doesn’t mind. He understands that you often struggle to portray your feelings with words, too shy to say it under his overwhelming gaze, and if you ask him, it’s one of the reasons why he cherishes you so dearly. Because he knows whenever those words do come out of your mouth, you truly mean them.

Like now.

Cupping the back of his hand, you press your cheek further against his palm. “I love you more,” you whisper. “Every part of you.” And there’s so much more you wish you could say, but will your words ever be enough to describe them all? It wasn’t obvious to his eyes before as you were good at masking your emotions with sarcastic remarks and mean retorts, but reminiscing those old days you shared with him… It really made you realize just how much you’re in love with the man you’ve shared the last seven years with. You’ve grown so attached that even the thought of spending some days alone without him scares you to your bones. And with the way he’s gazing at you right now, ocean eyes filled with the same amount of passion and affection as they were on the day he confessed his feelings to you for the first time, it’s only right for you to be overwhelmed by your emotions.

Sometimes it scares me because I never thought I’d feel this way about someone.

Even the simplest thought of losing you, of not having you wake up beside me in the morning, is enough to haunt me for days.

Stay with me. Don’t ever leave me.

I love you.

Satoru.

“I just… I love you so much…” And you hate that it’s all you could say. 

But it’s enough. It’s more than enough. Because Satoru is blushing, his eyes turning round, his lips parted but no words can be found. He just looks at you, astonished by the vulnerability you display on your face. The honesty. The purity of each gesture. How beautiful you are…

“Satoru?”

He pulls you into his embrace, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Hugging you so tightly, he barely gives you a chance to breathe and yet, you only wish for him to hold you tighter. You can’t tell just how much your words paint vibrant colors to his world—and bold red to his cheeks. “Are you planning to give me a heart attack?” He murmurs near your ear, a hint of shiver in his voice. “What the hell was that?” 

You can’t help but chuckle. Embarrassed Satoru is the best kind of Satoru. “Sorry.”

“You kidding me? Say it again.” He returns the space between you, but only for an inch or two because that’s all he can bear. He strokes your face, his heart beating hard enough that you can almost feel it on your skin. “I think this is the cutest you’ve ever been.” 

“I’m maxed out for today, though,” you say, wincing. “You’re gonna have to wait another ten years before I say that again.”

“I’ll wait forever if that’s what it takes,” he smiles, gliding his thumb across your cheekbone before he kisses you. “My sweet, sweet wife. I’m so happy I kissed you that day. Sorry your dog died, though.”

You chortle. “Honestly, you couldn’t have picked some other time?”

“You looked super cute when you cried, okay? Sue me.”

“You’re so ridiculous.” But you press his lips against his anyway, both of you smiling into the kiss.

“Babe.”

“Hmm?”

“Can I have your tits back in my mouth?”

“Sure, why not.”

“Can I… also bring my carrot back to my bunny’s mouth?”

“Aaaaand we’re done.” With a little shove to his chest, you send him back to the bed. 

“Wha—” He sputters, mouth opening and closing like fish out of water. “Babe—”

“I’m gonna go make some coffee.”

“No, wait!” He shuffles quickly to his knees, holding onto your wrist. “Honey, I was kidding!”

“Moment’s gone, Toru.”

“But I’m still haaaard,” he cries, and whines, pleading at you with his pretty eyes.  “Baby, I’m sorry. I promise I’ll behave so come back to me? Please?”

You already have one foot off the bed, tossing him a look over your shoulder. “You have hands.” Tying up your hair in a messy bun, you step down, smirking. “Use them.”

“Babeeeeee~”

You lean in to kiss him on the nose, patting his cheek when you say, “Take your time.” 

As you walk away, you hear him mumble sadly behind you, “But your carrot…”

Yeah, your husband is insufferable.

And that’s why you love him.

***

Next Chapter

Shoutout to @justasketch and @princess-okkotsu for being my first readers and for not throwing up from the excessive amount of cringe in this fic. Love you, babes ❤️

[notsoverymerry]

lucky trip (k.ys x reader)

<kang yeosang x fem!reader> summary: On a particularly tiring work trip, you're forced to share a room with Yeosang; only there seems to be a problem with your sleeping arrangement… genre/warnings: smut, fluff, friends to lovers, use of pet names a/n: sure let me know anything you want! don't hold back, bby < 3 word count ~3.3k

KQ Entertainment greeted you with a piece of great news this morning. There's going to be a trip to Sokcho Beach to film a show segment. Two days and one night, and you can try yourself out as a camera operator.

Starting out in college, you weren't so sure you'd make it. Sound and video equipment is great; you always wanted to be the one in charge of setting it and making sure it works properly. Really, it's a perfect job that allows you to use your brain, and you've got a great one at that, and provides room for creativity and exploring hobbies in a workplace. You're curious about how they do weather reports and want to keep up with sports? Try to secure a place in a news studio. Want to go to concerts for free? Welcome to the venue setting-up team. Come to think of it, you'll see a show free of charge, and they'll pay you for it. Isn't is a dream come true? Working for an entertainment company was not something you expected to pick, yet it proved to be the right choice. Sure, it took a while before your company got rich enough to grant a decent, steady salary, but the results were worth it. The team was full of talented, ambitious people, and the tight setting laid out a path for you to become a true found family. You and other staff members cared deeply for each other, always ready to offer a piece of advice or listen to your problems. The band members, Ateez, were also sweet and kind, treating staff respectfully and being friendly overall. So, when you were picked for a short working trip, you felt excitement. You're going to be surrounded by friends, you're going to do your best to help create entertaining content for fans, and you're going to see a part of Korea you haven't visited before. Win-win, win. Bonus points if there's food you didn't try yet. The ride on the bus was a little less chaotic than you expected. At first, things were pretty usual: Ateez bickered and made jokes, and you and your team laughed, sometimes awkwardly. Despite the elevated mood all were in, bad traffic and members' exhaustion got the best of them. Hongjoong was the first to fall asleep, others following suit quickly. Sat closest to them, you turned the camera off for the remainder of the ride. Now you could admire Yeosang's sleeping frame and get some rest as well. Oh, he was just so beautiful, so peaceful like this. He caught your attention first. He was so polite and sweet, and a little clumsy. When everyone was on the brink of mental breakdown before their debut, he used to stride nervously around the building, bumping into you with enviable regularity. He nearly broke your DI and stage box unit, and thus, your conversation started. You weren't mad, you get it he was stressed, and he was thankful. Like that, a friendship blossomed. During breaks, he'd ask you about your week or if you finished that show you were into. You'd ask how their recent choreo's coming together or if he'd finally discovered a new favorite dish. You'd blabber something about new lighting or broken audio cables, and he'd always pick fried chicken over anything. You found him delightful. He found that he didn't care that much about cables, but still wanted to listen to you anyway. You're really passionate about your job. Your eyes sparkle when he comments on the sound being set just right for his earpiece. You can make puns about your gadgets all day long, and if Wooyoung rolls his eyes at the third one, Yeosang considers them actually funny (are they?). You're just so vibrant and so pretty, and he wants to be around you longer. Maybe he should learn to set up and help you. He thinks it could be a good idea. Maybe he should just ask you out on a date. Seonghwa thinks this idea is better.

It took about nine hours to film the first part of the show. You tried to set things up as fast as possible. Hopefully, by the end of it, you won't be completely spent. You really want to take some time to walk around; take in the scenery, breathe fresh air, and reflect on life. The beach is wide and clean; the guide said there'll be illumination until late at night, it'll probably look really nice. The water is very clear, almost looks like a pool. You just want to admire the view without needing to control the picture frame or panic that someone might get hurt. Work-free, beer in hand, ocean gazing. What could be better?  Ocean gazing with Yeosang, probably. The whole crew settled down to have a quiet one at the end of the shift. Ateez seemed to have woken up completely, now lively chatting amongst themselves, waiting for you to put the rest of the equipment away for the night. Fresh air and cold beer will do that to you. You can feel eyes linger on your busy form. Turning around, you're met with his dark eyes. He follows your movement, not realizing that he's been caught until getting nudged in his side. Oh, now he's going to be teased the whole night. ''Wanna join them? You did great today, y/n, go have some fun.'' Your colleague tries to send you off.  You like to imagine you're smooth and nonchalant about your crush on a young and very attractive singer. Your friends, though, would use other words to describe it. What is it, let's see… Tangible? Painfully obvious? Yeah, that's the one. So they try time and time again to encourage you to confess. They leave you two in the room under a variety of excuses and give you tasks that would force you to go up to him unnecessarily often. Their efforts seem to go around both of your heads. You and Yeosang like to call yourselves very good friends. Everyone around you likes to call you fools. Just so you know.  ''It's okay. I think it's time we head to the hotel. Still plenty of work tomorrow, let's get some sleep.'' ''Yeah, about that…'' You do not like the sound of that. ''We might have got the number of rooms wrong.'' What's that supposed to mean? You're not sure you understand where this conversation is going. How can you even get the number of rooms wrong?

''Wait. No, no.'' ''Yes, you're sharing a room with Yeosang, yes.'' She sounds apologetic, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes, per se. ''He knows and he's okay with it!'' How did your sweet evening at the beach turn into a full-scale anxiety fair so fast? Of course he'd agree to share a room; he's way too nice. You should do a breathing exercise. It's just one night, and you're both tired, and you both have to get up early, so surely you will sleep. Just sleep. Nothing unusual, you'll wash up and get in bed. Yeah. You shouldn't worry about it. He probably doesn't even think of it much. Oh, god, what if you snore? With your heart beating out of your chest and your head heavy with thoughts, you got to your designated room at last. 

You don't know how much time you spent at the door, but you couldn't find the courage to enter. Maybe you'll be lucky and he'll already be asleep.  ''Oh, y/n!'' Well, shit. ''What are you doing? Did you forget your key?'' ''Yeosang! No, I was just waiting for you. To enter, you know?'' ''Such an intricate moment. I'm glad you want to experience it with me.'' Y/n.exe has stopped working. Did he mean it? You should ask what he means; you do not need misunderstandings, not with him.  But out comes, ''More like I want you to enter first to see if there's any entities present.''  Hu chuckles and reaches in his pocket for the key. The thing that comes next is something you were definitely not prepared for. You shared rooms with your friends before. The number of beds equals the number of people, right? Not today. A minute of silence hung in the air, and Yeosang let out a breath of confusion. ''Why— why are there so many beds in here?'' He asked, bewildered. 

In a relatively small room stood four twin beds. Adorned with— you do not care about artistic interior description right now. Four beds. Did you and Yeosang both get the room number wrong? You giggle. You don't know why.  ''I'm calling dibs on this one,'' you say, as you flop down on one of the beds near the window. The view is nice; you can see the waves a little afar, but you can't hear them from here. Yeosang settles on another bed by the window. You guide your eyes his way to find him already looking at you. You feel soft. Seen and appreciated. He can't just do that — to look at you like you're everything he's ever wanted. It's ufair. A soft smile is tugging on his lips, cheeks and neck tinted pink from alcohol. Suddenly, he errupts in a fit of laughter.  ''What's so funny?'' you inquire. ''We have four beds! Just for the two of us. And you're beautiful. Gosh, y/n, you're so beautiful and pretty and amazing…'' He's blabbering rather happily. It takes a moment to register what he said. You're beautiful… And it's funny. No, you don't get this man. Watching your face now very carefully, Yeosang reaches his hand for you. Too far. He can't touch you, and he's disappointed, and it shows.  ''Wanna touch you,'' he pouts. It sounds much less happy and way more needy than he had planned.  Your body moves on its own. There's an unexplainable gravity force that pulls it on his bed, a little too close for a friendship. His hands cup your face, and he sighs, relived. He wanted to feel your warmth for so long. Seeing how compliant you are, how there seems to be no hesitation in letting him near and into your personal space, and how content you look in his presence, he doesn't understand why he's never done it before. ''Yeosang,'' your voice is quiet, almost a whisper. ''What are you doing?''

He doesn't know. So, instead of answering his lips do something better. They touch yours. You can't believe it's happening. The moment your lips meet, he nearly moans. You feel so good. The kiss is head-spinning; it knocks the breath right out of your chests. He presses into you with demand, hands circling your waist to bring you closer. You don't want this moment to end. Yeosang is holding you in his arms like you'd disappear if he let go. Heat waves pulsate through your body; the way his hands linger on you makes wetness drip down your folds. You hug him back, clinging onto his hoodie like a lifeline. The room feels colder all of a sudden, and Yeosang thinks he can't let go of your hot form now. So he turns on the mattress a little and fumbles around so he can bring you to his lap. He brings your faces close once more, this time it's more heated, it's teeth and tongue and desperation. You feel his growing excitement press over your core. His mouth leaves yours to discover your neck is so sensitive for him. He's had a bit of beer, but it's your soft whimpers and mewls that get him really drunk. His hand slithers to grab and squeeze your ass. The sounds you're making are angelic, and your hands weave through his hair to tug at his strands, and it's just so right, he can't help thrusting into you.  ''Is this okay, y/n? Hmm?'' He breathes out, face back up to level with you, and his lips brush your cheek.  You nod; it takes all your brain capacity to let him know you want it too — forming words became a heavy task. Your confirmation is all he needs to lift you up and change positions, now hovering over you. He looks at you again, with shining eyes. A bit disheveled, hot, and bothered. He pushes your hair out of your face tenderly. This small action causes your heart to contract. Paitience wearing thin, you draw him back to you. 

''Do you have protection?'' ''Ye- yes, it's in my bag somewhere.'' You feel a cold prick at your skin when he stands up to roam in his belongings for a condom. It's lonely like this. All the other beds abandoned in the room must feel like icebergs, their covers rimy and uninviting. The second he's back on top of you is like a sunrise, you think. There's another kiss, the I'm sorry I had to leave kiss. He works on taking your top off. Exposed to his advances, your chest and collarbones get all the attention. His knee is between your legs, and when he bites your tender skin, you start to grind. He follows suit, now both of you groaning, trying to get rid of the rest of your clothes in a hurry.  There's plenty of great pleasures in the world, but nothing compares to the feeling of his skin on yours. To have him roam and clutch on your body everywhere he wants. You can't wait anymore; you want him, so you lean to kiss his neck up to his ear, tugging on his earlobe with your teeth. His little whimper trickles like honey down your legs. He can't seem to take his hands off you. Calling his name in a whine, your lips form a pout.  ''Please, Yeosang. I need you.'' ''I am right here, baby. It's alright, I'll take care of you.'' The nickname makes you clench around nothing. The friction that felt so good is gone; he moves his thigh away a bit so he can put on a condom. Yeosang thinks you look unreal. He wants to take his time exploring your body with his tongue, wants to mark you all over. Claim you so everyone knows. He'd spend hours eating you out, making you see stars behind your eyelids, and cry his name. He knows he can treat you right, the way you deserve to be treated. But he's so hard it almost hurts, and you look hurt he moved away from you at all. How can he ever leave his baby, even at an arm-length? So he rushes to your form and grabs your legs from under your thighs to yank you to him. You're mesmirised. You'd never think you wanted to be manhandled. But it's him, Yeosang, and it's so, so hot. His toned body glistens in the dim light coming from the window. Touching him is like heaven on earth, his muscules are tense under your fingers, and delicious sounds escape his throat. He pushes in slowly, savoring every emotion on your face. You are in bliss, hips start bucking onto him. ''Slowly, baby, I'm not going anywhere,'' Yeosang coos. 

He trusts steadily, drinking up every moan and breath you make. His own pleasure escapes him in the form of small grunts, making goosebumps run around your body. He ravishes your bare chest and collarbones in kisses and licks, wanting to mark you so badly. You are so tight and warm, your nails dig into his back, and he loses himself in the feelings completely. He speeds up and finally lets his teeth sink into the dip where your shoulder and neck meet. You mewl at the sensation; your wals flutter around his shaft.  ''What a nice little sound, baby. I think I'll bite there again.'' If your eyes didn't shut at all the pleasure he's giving you, he'd see endless dark pools your pupils turned into. All for him. Though his eyes were just the same. His lust takes over him more and more, thrusts getting deeper and harder. The way you pull at his hair lets him know you're enjoying yourself, too. The room is filled with wet sounds, skin slapping against skin, and your moans getting louder. Both of you won't last much longer.  You're a hot mess, stuttering pleas and praises and his name like a mantra. His voice is deep and full of relish, you want to record it, keep it all to yourself, and listen to it twenty-four seven. You feel so proud for making him feel this good. Your orgasm washes over like a tidal wave. It builds inside and makes you clench around Yeosang, nails leaving marks on his back. He stares at your face contorted in pleasure, feeling that impossible tightness bring him closer to his own high. ''That's good, baby, keep doing that, oh, god—'' He pulls you close so your body is pressed against his own. His hips stilling, he spills inside the condom with a groan. He's never felt so good.

Neither of you move for a moment. You need to catch your breath, and you just don't want to let go of him. Reluctantly, he tears himself off of you to clean the both of you a little. Settling into the sheets with you, he sighs and wraps his arms around you again. Your voice breaks the comfortable silence of your afterglow.  ''That was… amazing. The best sex I've had. I— I don't know how I'm gonna look you in the eyes tomorrow.'' ''Oh…'' Comes his reply. He didn't think about that. Honestly, he didn't think at all, you kind of overtook all regions of his brain. Probably even before this night.  ''I— Listen, y/n, I didn't want to do it this way. Truth is, I really like you… Shit, it probably is the worst time to ask and the worst confession you've ever heard in your life, but'' he sighs again, and there's a hint of nervousness in the way his fingers trace patterns on your arm irratically. ''Go out with me?''  He looks at you with those big, pleading eyes, lip stuck between his teeth in anticipation. Who ever told him he could pass as a doberman? ''Yeah, okay, I'll go out with you,'' you're trying to be smooth. Is it working? ''Really? Great!''  Good thing Yeosang doesn't care if you're smooth in the slightest. 

The next day starts off with a headache and a violent impulse to sleep in. If only you weren't stuck in the hotel with your colleagues. Surprisingly, Yeosang and you make it through the day without a trace of awkwardness or tension, keeping things professional and conversations light. The team is too busy working to tease you. The boys in Ateez also seem rested, even more energetic than the day before. Take the captain away from the studio to a nice beach… and he actually sleeps, huh.  On the ride back, you get a text from Yeosang asking when you're going to be free to go on a date. Your giddiness does not go unnoticed. Just then your friends decide to ask if there were any complications in your sleeping arrangement, a mischevous twinkle dances in their eyes. Time to get back at them.  ''Not at all! Our room was quite nice, and the view was great. We had four beds all to ourselves. Right, Mr. Kang?'' He offers a polite smile and nods at you and several curious sets of eyes turned his way. You're the only one to notice his eyes dart to your lips for a split second.  ''You had… four beds..?'' Your staff friends seem confused. They definitely had a different idea in mind. Hongjoong seems weirdly offended. ''Oh, so you get four beds, and I have to endure Seonghwa drooling on my arm all night?'' You definitely got the wrong room. Good for you. 

[mrsriddlenott]

The Fifth Day Of Smutmas

[smutmas masterlist][main masterlist]

~ Decorate With Me ~

Alpha!Mattheo Riddle x Bratty Omega!Reader

Summary: Alpha!Mattheo is too lazy to decorate the house for the holiday’s, thinking it useless, you however entice him to decorate one thing at a time as you strip for him, teasing him and escaping his grasp until all that’s left to do is place the ornaments on the tree, leaving him to decorate you.

- kinda AU but not really, Omegaverse and no mentions of magic, implied businessman Mattheo bc thats hot☺️ -

Warnings: 18+ Content!! Language, SexualTeasing, Stripping,Marking Kink, HairPulling(only a lil),Unprotected PinV, Cumplay, Breeding Kink, Consensual Sexual Punishment, D/S Dynamics.

“Come on Matty, pleeease” You begged, standing over Mattheo where he sat, his navy colored business suit contrasting the black leather of the large couch.

“I said no. What’s gotten into you, you always listen to me why the fuck aren’t you now?” He rolled his beautiful eyes away from yours and back to the book in front of him that gripped his attention in this moment far too much for your liking.

“I told you, I want you to decorate with me.” You pouted, crossing your arms and poking your hip out defiantly, “Me and my family decorated every year, and now that we live together you have to too. You’re just holding it off because you’re lazy, you put the tree up weeks ago and it’s still empty.” You sighed, pointing your arm in the direction of the large, bare Christmas tree.

“I think you’re forgetting that I do not have to do anything Princess, and you calling me lazy is rather funny considering I work for the money that pays for everything you can ever desire. So please decorate if you wish, but I’ll be sitting right here while you are.” Mattheo’s voice was laced with indifference as his eyes remained unmoving but focused on the pages in front of him, gripping his glass of bourbon tightly at your intrusion. After days of being denied his help you were fed up, you knew of one surefire way to grab your mates attention and that was of course, you naked in front of him ready to do anything he wished for. But….until he granted your wishes you wouldn’t be granting his.

“Fine. I will just do it all alone.” You stated innocently, walking off as you discreetly began tugging the thin straps of your red gown down your arms, allowing it to slip off your frame and pool around your ankles where it was kicked off towards the man behind you. Mattheo’s knowing gaze immediately latched onto your matching lingerie set and stockings with a scoff before locking with your eyes over your shoulder, licking his lips in an obvious attempt to control himself.

“What do you think you’re doing? Did you fucking plan this?” You giggle as his brows furrow, looking away from him and arching your back much more than necessary as you bent to grab the large box of Christmas decorations you were allowed to take from your parents when you moved in with Mattheo.

You felt his eyes dig into your behind, giving a little shake as you tossed the lid open and began grabbing the lights that were neatly coiled above the many layers of decorations, “This isn’t gonna work y’know,” Mattheo laughed, slamming his book shut and tossing it aside as he pushed himself further down the couch cushion, spreading his legs to give himself more space as he watched you move about the room. The way the hem of your lace underwear was cradling your curves in a teasing manner as your tits bounced against their harsh confines was cracking his reserve already, “You think I can’t resist you prancing about in that….” He spoke in a deeper voice now, clearly affected by your body and clearly trying to convince himself of what he was saying.

“I guess we’ll have to wait and see,” Your face grew warm as you twirled the string of lights around the base of the tree, avoiding his burning eyes as you sauntered around it teasingly, reminiscent of how you would a pole. His eyes trailed along your exposed thighs and stomach, aching to have you in a way he hadn’t felt since your last heat. You weren’t usually such a brat and he was loving every minute of it, he saw how you became whiny after he had told you just a few days ago that he was too tired to decorate, fully intending to do it the next night. However, when you stood there with crossed arms and a deep pout he just had to see it again. Now though, he was losing his patience, he had to have you and he’d do anything for it.

Once the lights shone brightly up and down the tree you stepped back to observe your handy work, placing your hands on your hips as you looked over your shoulder to find Mattheo’s eyes raking up your body until they fell into yours with a silent order you weren’t going to follow. You could sense his desire to gain control again as he always had, but you wanted more from him, you needed more. His little reaction had done nothing to stray you from your plan, you saw in his dark eyes that he wouldn’t last long.

His eyes followed your movements as your fingertips ghosted up your body, tickling against your flesh to slowly grasp the latch of your bra in your steady hands, turning back to observe the tree as though nothing was happening. Mattheo’s breath hitched as you slowly unhooked your bra with your back still facing him, your shoulder blades moving teasingly as you shoved the material onto the floor in front of the partially decorated tree, still not turning to show him your exposed chest. He hissed as you stepped forward again, moving away and out of his sight to grab more decorations, his pants were tightened around his growing dick as he took the last swig of his drink before abruptly standing to follow you.

You noticed his presence behind you immediately, the tension in the room growing as soon as he stepped through the entrance, “You think you can tease me like that?” He asked, voice low as he approached your turned back slowly, each step sending a shiver down your spine and directly to your core as his expensive dress shoes hit the wood below them tauntingly. He chuckled, clearly thinking he had you cornered as he grew closer, gripping your hip in his aggressive hold as he leant over your nude shoulder, his warm breath against your neck filling you with a mix of expectance and defiance of his actions.

In one quick motion, Mattheo’s strong hand spun you to face him, almost knocking you off your feet as they attempted to catch up with the maneuver. His eyes met yours before trailing down your chest with a genuine smile, “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he sighed, his free hand finding your neck as he began melting into your touch. You allowed him to pull you into him, almost touching your lips together before you pulled away, “I need to get this box to the living room, we can get back to this after,” You almost let out a chuckle at the mans dumbfounded expression as you grab the box behind you, conveniently hiding your chest as you maneuvered around his still figure to the door behind him, “It would go way faster if I had some help though.”

“Oh for fucks sake,” Mattheo mumbles to himself as you leave him alone in the spare room, his mind racing with ways of gaining power over the situation but each one required focus he couldn’t obtain while you strutted around the house half naked. So instead he opted to give in….just this once.

The echo of Mattheo’s footsteps didn’t shock you, nor did the growl that escaped his lips as he took in your now entirety bare ass in front of him, the only remaining part of your outfit being the white and red stockings that were driving him absolutely insane with each passing second. “Okay! You win, give me the fucking Santa,” Mattheo snapped, making you turn to him with a wide smile before throwing yourself onto him for a hug, almost immediately stepping out of his grasp quickly as he attempted to pull you back in.

He huffed behind you as you handed him item after item to find a place for in your home, still solely focused on your almost fully nude body in front of him even as he placed miniature Santas and reindeers all around your house. Eventually however all that was left was to place the ornaments on the tree which only took an excruciating 30 minutes before he could finally have what he wanted.

Your face smashed into the couch as Mattheo aggressively shoved you forward, tugging your hips upward as his hand firmly placed against your face, “Do you need me to fuck this attitude out of you Princess?” Your incoherent mumbles of yes go unheard as he forces his fingers into you hair, tugging you upward and against his clothed chest, “I asked you a question,” He whispered against the shell of your ear, nibbling on your flesh before he spoke again, “Now fucking answer it.” He spat out, shoving you back forward as you begged him to fuck you senseless, his hand finding it’s spot against the side of your face once more as he tugged at his belt buckle. The clinking metal sending shocks of pleasure to your core, drenching your entrance as it ached to have your Alpha.

In a matter of seconds, Mattheo tugged his dress pants and boxers only partially down his thighs, leaving you fully exposed and vulnerable in front of him as he lined his leaking cock up to your entrance before plowing into you with no real warning. Stretching you out almost beyond your limit as he immediately set a steady, rough pace to his thrusts, grunting above you as you clutched onto the leather of the couch. “Oh fuck Mattheo, you feel so good,”

Your almost incoherent babbles of pleasure egg him in as he snaps his hips faster against yours, eyes trained on where he disappeared deep into you, pulling out almost completely before slamming back into, pulling a scream of a moan from the back of your throat as he groans at the sound. The feeling of your walls clenching around him, silently begging him to stay inside of you, urging him to fill you up with his cum almost made him lose focus of his goal, snapping his hips harder and faster, his public bone bouncing against your clit every few thrusts as he built up his release.

Your mind was hazy as his warm, rough hand held you against the heating leather, the grip of his other hand on your hip surely leaving an entirely intentional print of his hand that had your mind going dumb as you clamped down around him, your legs shaking each time his tip slammed against you g-spot sending you soaring as your mind fogged, so close to your orgasm it felt almost painful.

“Oh fuck Matty please” You practically screamed, begging to cum as Mattheo slammed into you, the sound of damp skin smacking together echoing across the hardwood floors as you mewled and whined below him, his hard grip being the only thing keeping you in your position as you absentmindedly began bucking back against him, feeding his ego as you bounced on his cock, meeting his thrusts with a lazy smile on your face.

Your moans became whimpers as your walls clamped down on him tightly, unrelenting and desperately trying to hold him inside while you came around him, your legs were shaking uncontrollably against him as you quickly approached your high falling over the edge as Mattheo’s thrusts sped up, hitting your g-spot repeatedly, almost overstimulating you as he grew sloppy. His hips stuttered against you, groaning above you before he was pulling out of you entirely causing a desperate whine to escape you, sending him flying over the edge, shaking uncontrollably as thick spurts of his cum covered your back.

You whined below him, unable to form full words as you clenched around nothing, still coming down from your high as you almost cried at the lack of the full feeling Mattheo always left after filling you and stuffing his fingers back inside to ensure nothing came out. You wiggled your hips as if expecting him to go again just to fill you with his seed.

“Oh my pretty, bratty Baby,” Mattheo mockingly pouted down to you as he mindlessly played with his release covering your back “Are you mad I didn’t fill you up Princess?” Mattheo asks, knowing the obvious answer as he laughs over you condescendingly, “But I thought you wanted me to help you decorate, isn’t that why you thought this all out? Well….think of it as your punishment for being such a little brat to your Alpha.” He chuckled at himself, falling down beside you as he tugged your face into his chest, whispering to you that you did good for him and looked absolutely gorgeous covered in his cum.

~~~~

Event Taglist (lmk if u want on, off, or changed ur user)

@timmytime17 @talia-scar123 @spencer-reids-wife @ttsbaby01 @animorose @whydoireadanymore @thievin-stealing @spiderman-stilinski @evycloudberry @shady-the-simp @ashisabitgay @porterport @callsignwidow @cicicicicisstuff @mattheoriddleswifee @junebugin-july @moonlightreader649 @devotedlyshadowytheorist @rubyliquor @perverteddsdreams @mildly-delulu @fairydimples07 @shadowmoonlight0604 @80scinemvasworld @nevillescomslut @annaisabookworm @abaker74 @athenalikethegoddess @limeren @h-------n @kezibear @mattheoriddlemarcuslopez @lovemelikecrazyiloveyoucrazy @curiousshifter101 @tobyr68 @spididerman @hedwigprewett12 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @kiwi475 @stellasdelusions

[kyesreadingnook]

Riddler general relationship HCS

He’s very picky with the people he keeps close to him— granted that is a blend of overinflated ego, general distrust of others, and so on. In a sense he’s sort of like a cat, he needs his own time and space to warm up to people, and even then there’s no guarantee he’ll show all his true colors.

But you, my friend, are truly something unique— He just can never seem to get bored of you, both with your enchanting appearance, but mainly with the content of your character.

Edward appreciates those who can actually provide substance in a conversation rather than mindless babble, small talk, or mere niceties. And you provide it with such a graceful ease, he considers it almost impressive! And that right there is quite a compliment coming from him.

I don’t think he has any particular taste in physical appearance, regardless of physical body type, hair color— whatever, sure, he thinks colorful hair is pretty, or finds himself paying more attention to more unique fashion. But that doesn’t mean he has a set taste, truly, it’s the mind he’s after.. well, and personality. He wouldn’t want to date a wet blanket, after all.

Edward enjoys a puzzle, he doesn’t want someone who’s easy to configure, someone who’s trying to make themselves easily digestible— he likes complication, a mental challenge. He loves the eccentric, someone he can pick the brain of at any time of day. And that’s exactly what you are to him, his puzzle.

He, quite obviously, has a habit to peacock not only his intelligence, but his drama, his flair, his fashion— everything! he finds himself to be superior to most in every single one of those senses. Yet, that ego only (somehow) grows bigger when you pay him compliments based on those things. Mention how good his hair looks, how expensive his suit must be, and by god tell him how complicated yet impressive his plans are— he will melt almost immediately.

Dates with him are nothing but eccentric— he buys out (Though mainly threatens the owners’ of said businesses.) entire movie theaters and restaurants just for you both. Why would he want other people there to spoil his time with his darling? He wants you to feel special, to show you how good things are when you’re by his side. You’re always promised an expensive dinner, incredible shopping trips, and so much more— though, if you truly, deeply need just a relaxing date at home, he’ll do his best to tone it down.

Now lastly onto physical touch— he isn’t the biggest fan of it, and it’s less of him not wanting to touch you or be touched by you, but more so a sensory thing for him. He’s very particular about touch, always has been ever since he was young. But, rest assured it’s never anything personal with you. He’ll still happily abide if you need a cuddle or a kiss, but he has his own ways of showing his affection for you.

[aloesarchives]

Father's Day Special(JJK Oneshot)

Tags/Warning: AFAB/Female Reader, Family life, Domesticity, Fluff, Unhinged Crack(Especially near the End), Mention of Balls but not Smut(I promise), JJK OC(but not main X Reader)

Word Count: 5.5k words

Pairing: Toji x Fem!Reader

Reader Pronouns/Usage: (She/Her), Mama, Mom, Doll, Baby

So I know I'm three days late for Father's Day but I couldn't help but write this out. It's been busy and absolute hell with getting ready for Uni. But by July, things will slow down and I can focus more on getting shit down and stop procrastinating. I hella miss writing, I needa get back into the grove of it.

Also, forgot to mention, this fic was based on a true event. Dramatization was an all time high but loosely based on an interaction I had with my own mom lol

“What do you think Dad wants, Megumi?”

“Honestly, I have no clue. I thought Mom was hard but it’s actually Dad.”

“Why do you think so?”

“Because he never buys anything new. Even if he does, it’s either meant for the house or us. Dad still wears the same black t-shirt since we were kids. He doesn’t have expensive taste either. No cologne, no wrist watch, no shoes, nothing.”

Tsumiki and Megumi feel more empathetic to Toji than either right now. Father’s Day is tomorrow and the two are out trying to get their dad a gift. But just like Toji, they feel stuck on what to get him. With you, their mother, it’s more subtle and personalized. Tailored to your taste and personality, seems hard at first but gets easier once getting the smaller details. Is it more on the pricier side? Yes, but you are their mother and do so much for them that you deserve anything and everything good to come your way.

But Toji, he’s a different story.

Growing up, the two saw how laidback their dad was. No putting much effort into keeping appearance or staying with the latest trends. They learned early on that Toji only dresses decently, or at least looks presentable, because of you. Outfit coordination was all on you, you always picked out Toji’s outfit or had the final say on what he’s wearing. Obviously over time, he’s learned the art of dressing himself up but he always asks you for the final say.

Anyhow, clothes are out because Megumi and Tsumiki know Toji wears them until they are rags. He still wears the same basketball shorts around the house since they were babies.

They’re teenagers in high school now.

Toji’s old shirts and shorts just get converted to loungewear and home clothes. Some of them have holes but Toji seems to care less about them. Toji also has no expensive taste or an interest in creating one. He believes you pay for the quality but that’s on certain things like a wrench or drill. He never understood the whole throwing your money to look high class. Pointing out that things can stick out like a nail and look out of place. He grew up in a family with money, he knows.

Then Toji literally has everything he needs. That’s what the kids always hear.

“I have (Y/N), my kids, a nice house with space to work, food, and my equipment. The hell I need anything else when it’s all right ‘ere.”

People’s dreams and aspirations are different. Having a family is a common one many have. But Megumi and Tsumiki could clearly see the fond and tender nature their dad somehow exhibits, and it’s only exclusive to the family. They didn’t think much of it until they asked you. Upon explaining Toji's life up until meeting you, Tsumiki and Megumi finally let it sit why their dad acts the way he does.

“Your Papa…didn’t expect to have this type of life—To have a home, a wife and kids. He’d never imagine himself to get this because he didn’t think it'd happen to him, especially how he grew up. But it did and he never took it for granted since. Your Papa has treated me beyond the means of well over the years, it’s only fair I do the same for him. I’m not forcing you two to follow suit. But at the very least, try to understand your Dad and his circumstances. That’s all I ask of you two.”

With that, no wonder they’ve never met anyone from Toji’s side besides Maki and Mai. That and an explanation to your fierce protectiveness towards Toji at the mention of his “family”. So here Megumi and Tsumiki are, along with their litter sister Mayumi, concocting an idea on what to get Toji. They were going to call you but ditched the idea to not inconvenience you as you were busy yourself. Currently in Shibuya walking in one of the shopping districts, they searched high and low for anything that would make a decent Father’s Day gift.

Tsumiki threw up some ideas but Megumi shot them down because it’s not practical for their Dad.

“Megumi, at this point, we can’t get Papa anything! What do you have in mind that Papa will actually use?”

Megumi thought for a second before shrugging his shoulders.

“I’ve got nothing, Tsumiki. I’m drawing a blank here.”

Tsumiki sighs before looking around again. Meanwhile, Mayumi’s curiosity was becoming impulsive. She wanted to look at anything and everything as long as her pretty little eyes laid on it. Holding onto Megumi’s hand, she tries to keep pace with her older siblings in the busy street. However, after walking for a few minutes, Mayumi came to a stop as she stared at one of the stores. Feeling his arm be pulled back, Megumi looks down to see Mayumi staring off.

“Mayumi, what are you looking at?”

Tsumiki also stopped when she noticed her two younger siblings weren’t behind her. Crouching down, she wanted to see what had caught her baby sister’s attention.

“Is there something you want to look at, Mayumi-chan?”

Mayumi looks at Tsumiki before nodding and pointing to the store that has captured her attention. Megumi and Tsumiki look to see that the store that has captured her attention was Uniqlo. Surprisingly enough, this was a clothing store that mostly made up Megumi AND Toji’s wardrobes. Tugging Megumi along, Mayumi walks into the store with a mission. The two look at each other with curiosity, wondering what their little sister was so dead set on finding. They watched as Mayumi’s eyes scanned the racks and shelves, head darting up, down, left, and right. Megumi makes a decision to let go of her hand to see what she’ll do. Upon feeling her hand’s release, Mayumi speed walks away to the Men’s side. Megumi and Tsumiki made haste to not lose sight of her. Now it’s their turn in trying to keep up with her as she continuously searches for what she’s looking for.

Megumi starts to panic when Mayumi seemingly vanishes before him. He swore he only took his eyes off of her for a split second, and now she’s gone. He was close to going into search party mode when he spotted Mayumi standing before one of the shelving displays. Letting himself breath again, he walks over to where she was before picking her up.

“Mayumi, you can’t run off like that! You know you’ll get lost and separated from Tsumiki and I. You have to make sure you can see us close behind before going on your own.” Megumi lightly chastised her. Though, he never could get mad at her no matter what she did.

Mayumi pouts slightly at Megumi, understanding what she did was dangerous.

“Sorry, Gumi-Nii. Didn’t mean to do it to you and Miki-Nee…But! I found Papa’s Father’s Day gift!” Mayumi excitedly exclaims, pointing to the rack.

Megumi looks to see what she means and by then Tsumiki caught up to the two. Tsumiki also follows to see what the two were staring at. The section she was pointing at was the Men’s section for underwear and socks. Tsumiki chuckles while Megumi becomes both confused and a little embarrassed. Mayumi squirms in Megumi’s arms, signaling him to let her down. Once safely on the ground, Mayumi grabs a packet and holds it up to her siblings.

“Mayumi-chan, why do you think this can be a gift for Papa? You think Papa would need this?” Tsumiki gently asks her, hoping to understand what she meant.

Mayumi nods quickly, continuing to hold up the boxer packet.

“Yes! Because Papa needs new ones!”

Tsumiki and Megumi looked at each other surprised before Tsumiki looked back at Mayumi.

“How do you know, Mayumi-chan?”

“Mama said it when she was folding the clothes after drying them! This was when Papa was out with Uncle Shui! She said why does Papa keep wearing his underwear even though they have holes in them. I saw what she was talking about because Papa does have holes in his underwear! So, why not get Papa new underwear?”

Tsumiki found this amusing and a bit funny at Mayumi’s enthusiasm. Meanwhile, Megumi had a furious blush painted across his face. He didn’t expect their shopping trip to go this way. Let alone, the deciding gift was the most plain and not so well-thought out of. Though Megumi felt his embarrassment burn his entire being, he’s not complaining about the gift choice. He knew it was a practical gift for their dad, especially knowing Toji’s track record when it came to clothing.

As strange as it is to admit, Megumi couldn’t deny that a go-to gift to give to any guy is a pack of brand new underwear paired with a fresh pack of socks. He knew there’s nothing you could do wrong with that combination. He even witnessed it firsthand when Yuuji was way too excited when he got a box filled with pairs of socks and boxer briefs for his birthday. And knowing how lax Toji is, Toji probably would like this more than anything. So Megumi stays quiet and lets the girls handle it.

“I think that’s a great idea, Mayumi-chan. We should get some of these for Papa so he doesn’t have to keep wearing his old ones.”

“But I don’t know Papa’s size…Maybe Mama knows! We should call Mama, Miki-Nee!”

Tsumiki nods while pulling out her phone, hitting your contact. The phone buzzed once before your voice was heard on the phone. Mayumi decides to talk on everyone’s behalf and ask for Toji’s underwear size. After a bit, Mayumi hands the phone back to Tsumiki and the two of you talk. Once hanging up, it was settled.

“Gumi-Nee, Mama said Papa only wears black and dark blue boxers! And also said Papa is a size large!”

Since he didn’t want his sisters to look awkward, Megumi took it upon himself to take the three packs of boxers and one pack of socks to check out. The socks were a last minute decision but again, practical for someone like Toji. After Tsumiki gave her half of the total to Megumi, he bought them and left with his sisters. After getting home, Megumi decided it would be best if he kept the gift in his room to not raise any suspicions if Toji had any.

“So, did you three buy your Dad his gift?”

Mayumi runs up to you and fervently nods while pointing at the Uniqlo bag Megumi’s holding. Megumi gives you the receipt for tax purposes and so Toji doesn’t see the price for it as he’ll definitely take it. You grinned while looking at the receipt, something Megumi and Tsumiki believe would be akin to playful or mischievous.

“Nice job, you three. Now, go change and clean up a bit for dinner. Your dad will be home soon.”

Speak of the devil, not even five minutes later, the front door is opened and a gruff “I’m home!” can be heard. Toji was already home. Hearing his voice, Mayumi dashed to where he was and was immediately picked up by him. His iconic DILF chuckle and the giggles of your youngest child can be heard getting closer to the kitchen. Something you never get tired of hearing and hope to hear more of every time.

“Glad to hear you had a good day, Princess. Now go with your sister to change and freshen up.”

Mayumi nods before being put down, dashing towards Tsumiki who then holds her hand as she takes her upstairs.

You were finishing cleaning up the dirty dishes when you felt a warm presence on your back.

“How are you doing, Doll? Looks like you got dinner all figured out, didn’t I tell you my food prep made things easier?”

You playfully rolled your eyes at the feeling of your husband wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. Toji wants to be all over you no matter the hour.

“Yeah yeah, don’t let that ego get higher than it already is…But thank you though, Hon. It cuts down cooking time by a lot. I appreciate it.” You tenderly answered before giving him a simple kiss on the cheek.

Wearing a victor’s smile, Toji pulls away. Crossing his arms with his chest all puffed out as his pride builds up.

“If that’s all that takes for some of your kisses, I’ll keep on doing it. Only for you, Doll. Glad it makes things easier for ya.”

Even though it said because of his pride, there was an undeniable softness on his features many would believe was impossible for him to make. But here he was, doing exactly that like it was any normal day at the Fushiguro household. The fondness he exhibits to you is both a blessing and a honor because you knew you were a part of the few people that bring it out of him.

Smiling back, you mirrored your loving softness on your face as well.

“It does, Toji. Now, go change and shower. I don’t know what Shui and you did today but you smell like outside. I don’t want that in our bed so go upstairs and shower, Hon.”

Toji smirks but nods at your command. Taking himself upstairs to wash away the smell. Dinner goes on as normal. Silent but pleasant as it lets everyone decompress from the day. Toji does the dishes since you cooked dinner and the kiddos clean up the kitchen table. Everyone retires into the night without issue and Toji has his arms wrapped around you as you sleep on top of him.

It was 7:30 A.M. when you heard voices coming from downstairs and the slight clanging of metal. You groggily blinked the sleep from your eyes while feeling the sun brightening up your room. Hearing Toji’s faint and calm breathing, you knew he wasn’t waking up anytime soon. After successfully slipping away from Toji’s grasp, you were able to change into your home clothes before going downstairs. Upon reaching the kitchen, the sight before you was a pleasant surprise.

There was Tsumiki and Megumi, wearing aprons, and using the kitchen while Mayumi was drinking her juice from her sippy cup. Albeit very sleepy but that changes when she hears footsteps and sees you walking in with a warm smile on your face.

“Mama! Gumi-Nii and Miki-Nee are making Papa breakfast! I’m here for moral support!” She excitedly whispers to you as you hold her up.

You look over to see your two eldest working away prepping their Father’s Day breakfast. You hum while inspecting their handy work, peering over their shoulder to see.

“It smells good, you two. Though, I’m surprised you’re able to get up at this time, Megumi. Normally, you would sleep in until another two hours or so.”

He doesn’t take his eyes off the rice balls he’s making, but his tone is less irritated and tense compared to most mornings.

“Well, I feel bad for letting Tsumiki do all the work in cooking. So I woke up earlier than normal to help out. Plus, Mayumi woke me up and asked me to help Tsumiki make breakfast because she couldn’t.”

Mayumi’s soft giggles were paired with your own. Softly patting his hair, you offer Megumi a grateful smile.

“I’m happy to know you helped out, Dear. Good to back up your sisters.”

You pat Tsumiki's shoulder comfortingly to not let her lose focus on her cooking.

“Call for me if you two need any help.”

The two nod before you make your way upstairs with Mayumi, making your way to your shared bedroom where your husband is sleeping. Mayumi writhes and squirms in your hold, begging to be let down to wake up her Papa. As soon as her feet touch the ground, she quietly and firmly opens the bedroom door. B-lining towards the bed with you following suit. She climbs up onto the bed and crawls to where Toji was sleeping peacefully. Your youngest stares for a few moments at her Papa before gently pounding his chest.

“Papa…Papa…Wake up!”

After a few tries, Toji stirs a bit before blinking slowly. Toji motions his head to face the culprit that woke him up from his restful sleep. Seeing Toji waking up, Mayumi beams down at him along with you softly smiling at the side of the bed.

“G’morning, Papa! Happy Papa Day!”

“Morning to you too, Little Lady~.”

He takes Mayumi in his arms while steadily sitting up. Her sweet sequels and giggles echo throughout the bedroom as Toji kisses all over her face and tickles her sides. Grinning down at his youngest daughter, he carries it when his eyes meet yours.

“Morning, Beautiful~.”

The morning rasp and gruffness in his voice made you want to scream at the sky while death-gripping the ground below. You desperately thanked any and all divine pantheons for blessing you with such a man. But alas, you couldn’t allow yourself to fold so easily. Especially in front of Toji, knowing you’ll never see the end of his teasing and salacious, but consensual, advances. You just light-heartedly roll your eyes while shaking your head, but your smile never ceases.

“Good Morning to you too, Handsome~. Happy Father’s Day. Breakfast is ready downstairs.”

Toji temporarily sets down Mayumi as you pass him a shirt to wear since he was wearing his gray sweat shorts. He picks up Mayumi again before making his way out and into the kitchen to satiate his morning hunger. Just like you, he reacted with surprise seeing a fully set table before him. But this is Toji we’re talking about. So the most we’ll get out of his reaction is his eyes which went wide.

He was about to ask if you made all the food as you passed by but you tilt your head to the side and he sees Megumi and Tsumiki cleaning up the kitchen.

“They helped you with making breakfast, Doll?”

You shake your head while taking Mayumi in your arms to place her in her chair.

“I didn’t even touch the kitchen this morning. They were in here this whole time.”

Sitting down, it finally clicked with Toji. He just grinned as he took his usual seat at the edge of the table. Once everyone was seated and began eating, so did he. Toji never thought of himself as the sentimental type. But he couldn’t help himself in allowing this particular feeling to wash over him. If he went back in time to tell his younger-self that he’d become a husband and a father of three kids, he most certainly knew his past-self would scoff and think he’s a liar. Toji won’t lie because he has a hard time believing it himself sometimes. Even after almost two decades of being married to you and 15 years of being a father, he’s in awe of how his life ended up to the present day.

Sneaking glance as he eats, he sees his two oldest kids having their usual sibling conversation. 16 and 15 years old, first and second years in high school. It would only be a few years until they would graduate high school.

‘Geez, they’ll be legal adults in less than five years…Fucking shit, man…’

Toji then sneaks glances at you, which he sometimes catches your gaze as well. There was a certain feeling of your smile every time you sent it his way. But it was not until he reminded himself that your particular smile you always gave him was of contentment. But not in a sense of bare minimum, no. Toji knew it came from utter satisfaction and gratification in this domestic life you two shared.

No, the life you two created together for each other.

Watching you interact with your children just fills him with life’s satisfaction. He thought it was impossible for someone like him to experience something like this. But here he is, sitting down eating breakfast with his family in their home on a Sunday morning. Damn, he didn’t blame you for giving him that smile because he gets it.

After eating and cleaning up the table, Megumi said he forgot something in his room and went upstairs to get it. Meanwhile, Toji was reading the morning paper while simultaneously listening to the news that was live on the tv. Mayumi was chilling in Toji’s lap with her Cinnamoroll plushie because she had nothing better to do. Meanwhile, you were teaching Tsumiki how to use the coffee machine and the set up for Toji’s usual.

Once Megumi came back with the familiar Uniqlo bag, everyone shifted their attention to Toji and gathered around him. He looked confused by the sudden change in behavior. Placing his paper down, he suspiciously eyes everyone.

“Okay, something’s up. Did I do something I don't know about?”

You shake your head at him, making it clear he wasn’t in trouble. Mayumi jumps off Toji’s lap, pattering over to Megumi who hands over the bag. She races back to her papa with an eager smile on her face, holding the bag up to him.

“Oh, what’s this, Princess?”

“It’s from Me, Gumi-Nii, and Miki-Nee! We got you a present for Papa Day!”

Feeling both astounded and touched, he takes the bag from her before ruffling her hair. Mayumi lets out a little squeal before running towards Tsumiki who picks her up. The bag was small, specifically eight inches by six inches. But what’s inside filled the bag up to its capacity so Toji was intrigued to see what his kiddos got him. He shakes the bag for good measure, causing Megumi to become impatient.

“Dad, just open it up. I promise you we didn’t put a spider or a cockroach in there. This is your real gift from us.”

The man chuckles out loud, shooting a grin his son’s way which made his impatient grow.

“Alright alright, I hear you, Megs. I was seeing if I could guess what you bought for me. Nothing wrong with checking things out. Reel yourself in kid.”

Megumi groans out causing his sisters and you to giggle at this usual interaction. Eventually, Toji opens the gift and reaches inside. His eyebrows furrowed and pushed themselves together, trying to figure out what he was touching. Suddenly, his brows released themselves from being tensed as he pulled out the three packs of boxers and one pack of socks. It was silent, a little too silent. For a second, Megumi and Tsumiki held their breaths while you anticipated his reaction.

Then, out of nowhere, a hearty laughter filled the kitchen as Toji held them in his hand. Amusement was all he felt looking at the packs in front of him. He let out a content huff, holding up one of the boxer packs.

“Wow, this is how you give gifts. You guys are just like your mama, you all have gifting skills people dream of.”

“Wait, you actually like it, Papa?”

Toji let a bemused look pass over him before it went back to amuse.

“Oh yeah, I sure as hell love it. I keep forgetting to buy some and your mother has been on me for God knows how long about getting new ones. You rascals killed two birds with one stone for me. And socks too? Now that’s being generous to your old man.”

The two were finally able to breathe since they second guessed themselves.

“Happy Father’s Day, Papa!”

“Happy Father’s Day, Dad.”

Toji gets up to give Megumi and Tsumiki his love squeezes. Tsumiki giggled while Megumi begrudgingly accepted his dad’s affection. Though, he doesn’t resist or push away when his dad hugs him.

As this was happening, you wore a grin that stretched wide with eyes that shone with mischief. Toji catches your expression, fully knowing something is brewing inside.

“Babe, you’re making that face. Spill it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Hon~.”

Oh, there’s definitely something now and Toji’s gonna get it out of you.

“Don’t be so coy, (Y/N). You got that grin plastered on your face and eyeing me like that, you got something to say. I see those little gears in your pretty head of yours moving.”

You were trying to hold in your laughter. Key word was try though. The moment you made your thoughts be known will cause endless oxygen-depriving laughter from you. But you needed to say it in full. No stutters, no mistakes, no slang, dead set on getting those words out. You can’t fumble yourself right now.

“I’m just saying, I have been telling you to get new ones for years! Some of your underwear have holes in them! You have to get new ones every five to seven years, Hon!”

He playfully scoffs.

“Doll, just because they’re old doesn’t mean I need to throw them away after a few years. If they can still do their job in covering up my junk, I don’t see why I need to get new ones. I only needed to know one because of you.”

Sighing exasperatedly, you still held your grin and waited for the right moment to strike.

“Hon, you don’t understand. I’m not saying you need to buy new ones after a while! I’m saying some, as in most, of your underwear are worn down to the bone! You have to put them down, Toji!”

“Babe, again, if it still works, it still works. Yeah, some of my underwear have holes in them but they’re still wearable. Not my fault they have holes in them! Plus, I never wear tight-fitted pants, so I don’t get how my underwear chafes when I wear joggers, sweats, and cargo pants!”

Bingo, everything is in position and there’s a clear pathway. You can’t mess this up when you have a clear shot. Crossing your arms still grinning, you stare down your husband.

“Oh but it is, Toji! The reason why you got holes in your underwear is because your balls are rough! If they weren’t, I wouldn’t be breathing down your neck about them. Don’t you even notice when you fold the laundry?”

For a few moments, the silence fell over the Fushiguro house. Toji was bewildered, taken aback by what you said. You were one to never be crass in front of the kids or in general. Thus, this was the closest thing to you being vulgar.

For the teens, they stood still and frozen in place. However, for different reasons. For Tsumiki, she was stunned. Heavily skilled in the art of not being or feeling awkward. She’s not bothered or offended by your words. Rather, she didn't expect you to say something like that when they’re around. She knew it was bound to happen, just not with this conversation and those words. For Megumi, he was straight up flabbergasted. Never in a million years would he hear something like come out of you. Given, you’re known to have sufficient self-control when it comes to speaking in such a manner. Reserving that language for anyone 18 and over, and their dad. Right now, he’s growing frustrated because now he knows what people mean with you and Toji’s marriage has top tier chemistry. Megumi slowly realizes that both his parents are rat bastards and of equal humor. Noting that you were better at keeping it under wraps while his dad bore no filter at all. Meanwhile, Mayumi was just existing and cuddling her plushie. Becoming oblivious to the whole matter as her toddler brain couldn’t comprehend the words being used. But it was a good thing, much to both Megumi and Tsumiki relief.

“Did Mom just—?”

“Say what I think she said…?”

With their minds broken, the two were trying to process what just happened. You said it, made it be known. Something that probably should be said when they’re not present or only with their dad. Thinking about how you said them too: saying them with your chest, locked-in, hyper-focused, 10 toes down on the ground, no stuttering whatsoever. It looked like you were thinking about this for a long time and needed to get it off your chest.

To which you did, and successfully as well.

Just when the teens thought they were in the clear, they were thrown another curb ball. This time, it was from Toji.

“Doll, why are you complaining about them now? You never did beforehand, how do you think I gave you Tsumiki, Megumi, and Mayumi? You took them and everything else. I’m not letting you throw me under the bus like this.”

Silence came back as soon as it left. If the two thought your words were absurd, their dad’s beat it and took your place with his own. Now Megumi’s petrified because he didn’t know what else would come out of either his mom or dad’s mouth. Fearing the embarrassment and possible vulgarity to over take what the two of you said prior. He didn’t want to hear nor wanted to know anymore. Just when he was about to drag his sisters away to leave you and Toji to your own devices, he sensed something that made him stay.

All at once, the silence was broken by you and Toji bursting out in laughter. You were holding onto his shoulders, gasping for more air to put in body but it was futile as you continued laughing even harder. Toji has his arms crossed but his sturdy broad frame shakes as he can’t restrain his uncontrollable laughter. The kids watch on, once again thinking this was finally done.

But the next thing they knew, they felt a gust of air pass by them followed with another. In a turn of events, you were being chased by Toji throughout the Fushiguro Estate. Yet, your laughter and squeals that were accompanied by your husband’s playful threats made it known this was all fun and games for you.

It went on like this for several minutes. Your two teens would’ve cringed but let it pass over when they noticed Toji carrying you over his shoulder from the house towards the large Saucer Magnolia tree in the garden. Plopping himself on the grass with you in his lap, arms wrapped securely around your waist.

“Now, Doll, where’s your present for me? I don’t see it.” Toji says, feigning hurt as he whines fakingly.

You roll your eyes at his performance. Though, instead of a grin, a smile was all that was left. Highlighting the blissful expression you wore.

“I know you, Toji. You just want me to baby and give you all my attention.” You huffed lightly.

“Yeah yeah, but you’re still gonna give it to me. You won’t deny me, Baby.”

Shaking your head, you let yourself be at your husband’s mercy. Indulging himself in your warmth in presence. It was a peaceful moment until you heard a little giggling coming closer. Both of you look up to see Mayumi running this way followed by Megumi and Tsumiki who held a blanket to be laid on.

Toji unravels one arm to catch his youngest and sits her on his free thigh across from you. You never noticed until now how beautiful and relaxed Toji is. While he was known for his laid back personality, you knew it’s from not wasting his energy on matters that don’t concern him. The reality was, Toji used to be tense and rigid. Forcing to stay on guard whilst putting on that lax facade. It wasn’t until he met and married you was when his stiffness and strained body began to disappear from his body. He was relaxing, loosening himself up because of you.

Although your shared life with him wasn’t easy and had its share of hardships, you felt honored Toji allowed himself to rest and find comfort in you. To see him finally have a sense of peacefulness after knowing what he’s been through, you only wish to love, care. and protect him for as long as you’re on this plane of existence.

Seeing how much contentment he has in interacting with his children and you, he was undeniably beautiful and sublime both physically and mentally. Leaning your head against his shoulder, you immerse in the loving family atmosphere you’re grateful to be a part of. Mayumi rambling and talking Toji’s ear off while your husband entertains her. Meanwhile, you watch your two older children talk and spill the gossip in their school lives to each other.

You wallowed in this domestic bliss, savoring it as there will be nothing else like it. You’re not the only one as Toji joins in basking in this domestic bliss as well. He would never say this out loud, but he didn’t think he’d live this long. He thought he’d died young due to his reckless and careless behavior, getting himself into deep shit that would ultimately be his grave. The voice in his mind reminds him that this may be a one time thing, that he’ll never get this in the next life. But he pushes that thought away to deal with it later. For now, he’ll be present here with you as you both happily entertain your little Mayumi and her current interest.

As for Megumi and Tsumiki, they can rest easy knowing they won’t have to hear you or Toji saying those appalling words again anytime soon.

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DON’T BE SORRY

carl grimes x reader

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tags: angst, fluff.

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TRIGGER WARNING: SELF HARM, DEATH

You used to feel so alone, so empty. Like nothing could fill the pit in your heart where you stored the love from your family. They were everything to you, losing them made you feel endless pain that would never go away. You couldn’t cope with it all, you only felt pure affliction.

The one way you knew how to cope was something you had to hide, at least you felt that way. You didn’t know what to do without your family, you’d felt like somehow it was all your fault. Maybe you could’ve done something, be more useful and actually save them. Maybe it wasn’t helpful to take it out on yourself instead of putting the anger towards what actually killed your family, the walkers. You couldn’t help it though. You truly felt you killed your family.

It occurred to you that maybe the last thing you’d need in this world was to inflict more pain on yourself but it had somehow made you feel better, like you were getting what you deserved. You could get by a while without hurting yourself but occasionally situations would happen that reminded you of everything.

There was one time in particular that really got to you. You were tracking a deer for a while, granted tracking wasn’t your best strong suit but you thought you’d give it a shot. You followed it for hours. You successfully shot it and it ran but it didn’t get far. When you got to it, it was taken down by a swarm of walkers. It just looked too much like when the same thing happened to your family. You burst into tears and ran.

It was a common thing for this to happen but one day, someone saved you from the swarm. He came in with a couple others and they took them down for you and invited you back to their settlement. You almost wanted to say no. You didn’t want to risk caring for more people, losing them and then pay the price for that loss.

The boy who saved you was named Carl, he was your age and he quickly became your best friend, eventually your boyfriend. He managed to make you feel okay about everything. He told you how it wasn’t your fault, that you shouldn’t blame yourself for the death of your family. He was so gentle with the way he treated and loved you. There’s nothing he loved more than gently kissing around your body but you made it a point to him to not kiss your arms, you tended to pull away.

You didn’t want him to know, you were worried of what he’d think of you. He never gave you a reason to believe he’d be angry at you or anything like that but you were still nervous about it. He never wanted to pry as to why you didn’t want him kissing your arms because he respected you enough to not mention it unless you did.

You never planned on telling him, but you didn’t want him to find out either. Unfortunately, when he did find out, it wasn’t on your own terms.

“Hey wake up.” Carl pokes at you while you were sleeping peacefully in your bed (you guys had nightly sleepovers.) You pry your eyes open and look up at him, sort of giving him a mean look for waking you up. “Cranky.” He says, looking down at you with a cute little smile. “Yeah cranky. I’m so sleepy.” You sit up and yawn while he walks around the room. “We have to go check the snares my dad put out yesterday. He’s hoping for rabbits.” Carl explains, grabbing clothes from your closet and tossing them at you.

“Rabbits? For what?” You stand up slowly, stretching out your limbs. “Uhh I think Carol wants to make some stew. I dunno.” He replies briefly. You finish up changing and arm yourself with a handgun as well as a large knife. You both head out to go check the snares. The first two you checked were empty, which made sense since Rick set them out late last night in clearer areas.

When you get to the last snare, the both of you were pleased to find out that it caught a larger rabbit. You unlatch it and pack it away. “Carol’s gonna be excited. I know she’s been wanting to make stew for a while-” You were cut off by the sound of guttural screams coming from somewhere deep in the forest. There was no doubt you’d follow them to help whoever it was.

You and Carl ran through the woods, following the screams with your guns in hand. The screams get louder and louder as you approach and you pray that you’ll be able to save them. When you reach them, it was too late. The man was already on the floor, being ripped to shreds by the undead. Carl was with you, but somehow that didn’t seem to help this time. You remember your family, you couldn’t save this man just like you couldn’t save them. You run off back home, not even taking the walkers out, not waiting for Carl.

You go home in tears, you walk up the stairs not acknowledging anyone else who lived in the house because you simply couldn’t look at anyone. You change your clothes to try and distract from the pain of it all and blink your tears away. You stand for a moment trying to navigate what exactly to do next but your mind strays to one solution. You walk over to your dresser and dig to the bottom where you kept a little box. The little box where you kept razors. Every time Carl looked for clothes for you, you were worried he’d find it. He never did.

You grab the box and contemplate for a moment. Did you want to do this? It’s been a while since you last indulged but something about this time was different. You head over to the bathroom and shut the door. You breathe heavily, thinking about the man. His life ended because you didn’t run fast enough. Your mind was made up.

You sit on the edge of the tub and set the box of razors on the toilet lid. You open it and take one out, looking at it while wiping your tears away. You slide your sleeve down a little and stare at the scars from past times you’d done this before. You go for it, but are interrupted by the sound of voices downstairs. You listen for a moment before putting the blade back up to your arm. Before you know it, Carl bursts into the bathroom.

“Oh, I-I’m sorry-” He looks at you and the blade in your hands as you scramble to put it away and hide the box. “N-no I’m sorry I shouldn’t be…” Your voice trails off as you try to find the words to explain yourself. “Don’t be sorry.” He walks closer to you and kneels so he can see you better. He takes off his hat and places it on the counter. He rests his hands on your knees as he looks at you with pure love.

“Is that why you don’t like the kisses?” He lifts his hand up to wipe the tears from your face. He holds your cheek delicately and you nod into his hand. More tears roll down your face and he leans in closer to kiss them away. “They told me you were upset.” He says, referring to the Alexandrians you lived with. “It was the man, wasn’t it?” He holds your hands, gripping them tightly. You nod once more. He pulls your hand up to kiss them. “That’s not your fault. None of this is your fault okay? I promise you, I’d never lie to you.” He murmurs, kissing your hands between each sentence. You knew he was being honest, he always was. Carl never beat around the bush, but he was never brutally honest, he was always soft with you.

“Can I…?” He gestures to your arms and looks to you for approval. You look at him and hesitate but nod, sniffling a bit. He rolls your sleeve down slowly and he looks at you before leaning down to place soft kisses over your scars. Didn’t leave a single one un-kissed. He pulled the sleeve down your other arm and repeats the process. Every single scar was kissed. He always knew how to make you feel loved. He looks at you and studies your face like he’s done thousands of times before. He leans up to kiss your nose, then your forehead and then your cheek.

Carl leans forward and hugs you tightly. He sits there and tells you how much he loves you over and over.

Now, your heart feels fuller than ever.

a/n: i hope i did this well, i really like it even though i’ve never written a fic like this before. it took me a while to get out bc i really did my research for it to make it best i could. i also had a ton of school stuff to deal with. thank you anon for the request <3 my inbox is nowww empty so if you guys want plsss send some requests.

[jaylaxies]

KINKTOBER DAY 28 — CHOKING KINK

PAIRING: spider-man!mark x fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, unprotected sex, choking, fingering, slight bondage, usage of nicknames, breeding.

WC: 1.3k words

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni

A/N: hihi, loves! i couldn’t stop thinking of spidermark so here we are! i hope you guys will like it :3 all likes, comments, reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated! iloveyou all <33

✎ kinktober masterlist

“Shh, baby. Don’t want your parents to hear now, do we?” 

You truly couldn’t believe that it was happening—that Spider-Man was in your room with his slender fingers wrapped around your throat. 

You’ve always wanted this from the day you first saw him, on the day he saved a lift full of people from falling down and crashing to the ground. You were one of those who got stuck in the lift too, which was the traumatic onset of your tiny crush on him. 

No one knew who was behind that mask, yet his suit clad figure was a sight to see, his build lean and slightly muscular, not to mention he smelled brilliant (a little something you gathered when he saved you).  

To add to it, his ever so attractive voice always grasped everyone’s attention, you thought he was funny too, which is exactly why you ended up making a poster full of glitter saying:

Choke me, Spider-Man!

It was a silly joke, albeit you’d definitely be lying if you say you didn’t get wet dreams about the superhero, because you did. Detailed ones at that. 

Maybe carrying the poster with you at all times was a bit of a stretch but you did it anyway, granted that your city was full of crimes and spotting Spider-Man was an easy task, which is why you proudly held up the poster in the crowd whenever you saw him, after he fought with the villain that is. 

The people around you laughed, but it wasn’t mocking, it was more of an amused chuckle, and you could have sworn you noticed spidey look your way, before swinging away, much to your dismay. 

This went on a few times. You were practically waving the poster when it was the fourth time, yet he didn’t pay you any attention, leaving you dejected as you dragged yourself back home from Uni, chuckling at your state. 

Crush on a superhero?

Pathetic. He’s loved by countless people all over the world, what makes you think he’d have time to give you even a sliver of his attention when he’s so busy saving the world?

Clicking your tongue, you threw the crumbled poster in the trash can of your bedroom, dimming the lights as you sat down on your bed, ready to change into your nightwear before opting to sleep to take your mind off things. 

Just then, a loud sound of knocking on your window caught your attention, which was funny considering you lived up on a pretty high floor in your apartment building. You thought that it must be a bird, still, you decided to open the curtains to check it out. 

Shock would be an understatement to explain what you were feeling the second your eyes laid on the person right outside your window. 

The reason for your sour mood, or rather, the reason you spent hours trying to ease the pent up frustration in you each night, moaning out with need, was hanging by your window. 

“Oh god,” you breathed out, brain short circuiting for a few seconds before you shook your head, opening the windows for him to come in. 

Who knew Spider-Man would actually care enough to notice you? 

Then you realized just how awkward the situation was, and you didn’t have much to say anymore now that he was standing right in front of you, looking around as if he was inspecting your room. 

“Spider man,” you breathed out, and he chuckled. 

His attention was on you now, walking closer to you, “so, you’re the one who wanted to be choked by me,” he said smoothly, and you couldn’t help but shamelessly gawk at his figure, mouth watering at the sight. 

“Uhm—I mean, holy fuck you’re actually here,” you tried to voice out your thoughts, but they were a mess, which only caused him to chuckle at your shocked state. 

“Didn’t you want me here, baby?” He asked and you felt your knees buckling at the deep tone of his voice. 

You took another step back, only to lose balance and trip. But good for you, your spidey was quick to shoot his web on your silky night blouse, pulling you close and right into his arms. 

He smelled so good. 

“Careful. We don’t want you hurting your pretty face,” he whispered, tracing his glove clad finger along your jaw, gripping your chin when he noticed how your body had gone still, “deep breaths, babe.”

“Are you gonna fuck me?” You asked, voice coming out in a low whine, eyes twinkling with hope. 

He chuckled, pulling his mask up which had you bubbling with anticipation, you really wanted to see what he looked like. However, he stopped a little too soon for your liking, only exposing his lips, leaning in to mumble against your own. 

“I’m gonna fuck the life out of you,” he whispers, a gasp leaving your lips as you pulled him closer into a rushed kiss. 

He was quick to take over, kissing you harder as he pushed you down on your bed, “undress, quick,” he ordered, and you fumbled while getting everything off your body. 

Your cheeks were warm, your eyes on his figure, which was now devoid of his costume, faint abs and strong muscles on display for you, but your mouth practically salivated at the sight of his cock, thick and hard. 

Just when you sat up to touch him, he grabbed your wrist, pushing them up your head and shooting webs to make sure they didn’t move. 

You never knew you’d be into web-play but here you are, getting wet by being constrained by webs. 

“Please,” you begged in hopes that he’d touch you, or do something, anything. 

“So needy, aren’t you?” He clicks his tongue, his fingers caressing your cunt, collecting your wetness, “so wet already,” he smirked, “wanna be fucked all night, huh?” He asked, continuing working his fingers between your legs, arousal leaking from your cunt. 

His other hand was wrapped up around your neck, fingers tightening enough for you to gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt lightheaded with the whole situation, but you couldn’t have asked for anything better. 

He was so good with his fingers, thumb pads circling your clit while two digits plunged in and out of you, eliciting moans out of you. 

“Shh,” he whispered, his hold around your neck tightening which caused you to open your mouth, giving him the perfect opportunity to lean in and spit in your mouth, watching the glob travel down your tongue till you gulped it down, earning a praise out of him, “good girl.” 

He pulled back right when your body started shaking with the orgasm building up in your lower abdomen, his hold on your neck loose to let you breathe some more before he took it to the next level. 

He ran his lips down your neck, sucking harshly as he lined his cock to your eager folds, your expression blissful and your entrance so wet, it made it easy for him to bottom out, “so fucking pretty,” he groaned out. 

His voice strained as he started fucking you into your mattress, his power was evident with how precise and hard his thrusts were. It was a lifetime opportunity for you, and you wished to savour every second of it as you wrapped your legs around his slender waist, pulling him even closer and deeper in your pussy. 

He hit your spot over and over again, “cream my cock like a good girl, baby,” he rasped out, his own orgasm approaching. 

You couldn’t hold back anymore, with his fingers still gripping your neck, the lack of air was evident but it somehow made you feel as if you were floating with unadulterated bliss around you as you finally reached your state of euphoria, coming undone on his cock, exactly when he filled you up with his cum, mixing it with yours as he emptied himself in you. 

You whined when he pulled back, getting dressed after draining you, “you’re leaving?” You asked, frowning. 

“Gotta save the world now, pretty,” he whispered, removing his webs from your wrists before pecking your lips and rushing out of the window. 

Maybe making the poster wasn’t such a bad idea after all. 

THANK YOU FOR READING!

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[spnjediavenger]

Father's Day (Matt Murdock x sister!reader)

Title: Father’s Day

Type: long one-shot; Matt Murdock x sister!reader, some Peter Parker x reader

Warnings: sadness (not having a dad on father’s day) then fluff, platonic sibling fluff, maybe little AU cuz Tony Stark is mentioned?

Spoilers: none

Notes: like all my fics these days, not proofread #sorrynotsorry

As always, love and/or constructive/friendly criticism is welcome and encouraged!

Disclaimers: i do not own daredevil, its characters, or plot

Word count: 2906 (oops)

Y/n sat on her bed at the apartment, stewing in her sorrow and depression, a bouquet of flowers discarded on her dresses. It was the same day she dreaded every year without fail. Father’s Day. But for some reason, it never bothered her as much as it did now. Well - she did know why. It seemed like there were more kids than normal had been going on about their plans with their dads after school that day.

“We’re going out to dinner.”

“Oh, us too! And I got him this new tie he’s been looking at. It goes with his favorite suit.”

“I got my dad his favorite chocolates plus I’m making dinner myself tonight.”

“I handmade a card for mine and crocheted a pair of gloves, a scarf, and hat that match.”

We’re doing this and I got that. My dad this and my dad that. Y/n was sick of it. She was sick of the gushing, she was sick of the bragging, and she was sick of the reminder. The reminder of the one thing she didn’t have. A father.

Granted, this wasn’t a new development. Since Y/n could speak and comprehend things, the nuns let her know what happened to her dad; why she didn’t have one. Of course, it was the condensed version - the PG rated one. Eventually Matt would tell her the whole truth. Through the years there would be times she and Matt would talk about things but never anything too deep. Y/n never wanted to bother him.

Y/n was pulled from her thoughts were interrupted when she heard the door to the apartment open and close.

“Y/n/n, I’m home!” Matt called.

Y/n sighed and rolled over on her bed so her back was facing the door.

In the entry hall, Matt paused and tilted his head, confused by the lack of response from his sister. Steady heartbeat in Y/n’s room. She was definitely there. Maybe she was napping? Matt thought.

Laying his suit jacket over a kitchen chair and his glasses on the table, he walked softly to Y/n’s room. He listened closer to her heartbeat and came to the conclusion she was indeed not sleeping.

Matt pursed his lips before tapping his knuckles on her door. “Hey. Can I come in, Starling?” he said gently. 

Y/n closed her eyes for a second before sighing. “Sure.”

Matt pushed the door open a little further and walked in. He sat on the edge of his sister’s bed behind where her back was turned. He rubbed her arm a couple times before speaking. “What’s going on, sweetheart?”

Y/n shrugged. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Matt went to respond but caught the scent of flowers. Tilting his head and furrowing his brow, he turned back to Y/n. “Did Peter get you flowers?”

Heartbeat skipped, slightly faster now. They had something to do with why she was upset. 

Y/n knew Matt was probably paying attention to her heartbeat so there was no use even trying to lie. She sighed again. “They’re not from Peter,” she said quietly. 

“Ok…what’re they for then?” Matt prodded gently. 

Y/n turned her face into her pillow, hoping it would impede Matt’s ability to sense her oncoming tears. 

“I got them for dad.” Had anyone else been there, they wouldn’t have been able to hear Y/n. But she knew Matt would. 

Matt bowed his head a bit, feeling his sister’s sadness. “For Father’s Day,” he said, more as a statement than a question. And despite Y/n’s best attempts, Matt could smell the salt from her tears in the air. 

“I feel stupid for missing someone I’ve never met,” Y/n sniffled. “But I can’t help it. And I can’t help but wish he was still here. That I could’ve known him. That I could have a dad, Matt.”

Matt’s heart broke for her. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want the same things. But being older now, he wanted them more for Y/n. He remembered being younger and how much worse it felt not having his father in his life. He sighed and pulled Y/n up and into his arms, resting his head against hers, using one hand to card his fingers through her hair. 

“It’s not stupid, Y/n. Don’t ever feel bad about those things. You have every right to feel this way. It’s hard growing up without your parents. I’m thankful I had dad as long as I did. More than anything, I always wished that for you.”

“I barely even know anything about him,” Y/n whispered. “I mean, besides the fighting stuff you told me about and what I’ve read and watched. Sometimes people ask me what he was like and I have no idea what to tell them.”

Matt pulled away a bit and turned his face towards hers. He carefully pushed some hair behind her ear. “I can tell you a few things I haven’t mentioned before,” he said, smiling a bit when he heard her breath catch just the tiniest bit. He imagined the hopeful gaze she probably was giving him. “He loved his kids. So much. Especially you. From the moment you were born it’s like he had a new purpose in life; or at least a stronger drive to provide for us. The adoration in his voice can't even be described. It was like he was in awe when he would describe you to me. And I'd hear other people say how he held so much love in his eyes when he looked at you; how he seemed to have this newfound gentleness when he held you. I know he loved you so much, Y/n. And that he would be so proud of the young woman you’ve become. And that he would’ve given anything to be able to see you grow up.”

Somewhere in the middle of Matt talking, Y/n had begun crying harder. And when he finished, she let out a sob and Matt collected her in his arms again. “I wish he was here, Matt. I-I wish I had a dad,” she sobbed, clutching Matt’s shoulders. “I miss him. I never knew him…but I miss him.”

Matt blinked back his own tears and quietly shushed her, stroking her head and squeezing her tighter. “I know, Starling. I know. I’m proud of you for talking it out loud though. And for thinking about visiting him. You’ve never done it before.”

Y/n sniffled before answering. “It was Pete’s idea,” she admitted. “Said it’s something that’s helped him.”

Matt nodded a bit. “He’s a good kid. Who’s also been through a lot of unfair things in this world. I’m glad he’s in your corner too.”

With Y/n more calmed down, she pulled away from Matt to wipe the tears from her cheeks, smiling a bit when Matt kissed her head. “Matt can…can you…do you think you could come with me?…to-to dad’s grave?” Y/n asked, looking up at him through her lashes. 

Matt smiled at her, placing a loving hand on her cheek and leaning his forehead on hers. “Of course.”

About thirty minutes later, Y/n and Matt were standing in the cemetery. Matt held Y/n’s hand until she took a deep breath, let it out, and let go. She walked up to their father’s grave and placed the flowers she bought standing against the headstone. She straightened up and let out another breath.

“I uh…I don’t know if you’re here or if you see me or anything…if you can see me you probably don’t recognize me…I’ve grown quite a bit since you last saw me,” she chuckled sadly. “But uh…I…I went to the library and looked up some old newspaper articles about you. There weren’t many but I eventually found a short one from a local paper where you used to live. ‘Battling Jack Murdock Welcomes New Addition.’ I’m surprised they even cared…But anyway - I printed it and brought a recent picture…they’re both me. So I uh…thought I’d leave them here with the flowers…dad.” The word felt weird coming out of her mouth when it wasn’t just in conversation with someone. It felt weird using it to address him. 

Y/n placed the picture and article next to the flowers and stood again. She took a shaky breath, prompting Matt to grab her shoulder and run his thumb over it. Y/n placed her hand on his as she continued. “I wish I got to know you before you were killed,” she sniffled. “Wish you had gotten to know me as well. I think about you a lot, especially on days like today…Happy Father’s Day.” Y/n paused a moment to wipe the stray tears from her face. “I just hope you know Matt has always taken good care of me. We’re not normal siblings that fight all the time unless we’re wrestling.” Matt chuckled from behind her at this, making her smile a bit. “We love each other. And I think you’d be proud of that….and we love you.”

The girl finally stepped back into Matt’s waiting arm. He put it around her shoulders and kissed the side of her head. “I’m proud of you, kiddo,” he said.

Y/n pursed her lips and wrapped one of her arms behind him. “Thanks, Matty.”

“I know he would’ve wanted to be here for you as you grew up. But maybe somewhere he’s been able to watch. Still would’ve wanted to support you, though. However he could.”

This made Y/n pause for a moment. Support me…however he could. She thought back to earlier in the day when she was talking to Peter about her feelings on Father’s Day.

“I don’t get it. It’s like Valentine’s Day - you have the whole year to show your significant other you love them.”

“Y/n, you love Valentine’s Day,” Peter deadpanned, turning to look at her as they walked through the halls.

She turned and gave him a flat look. “Not the point, Peter. It’s the comparison. Father’s Day is like Valentine’s Day. You have the whole year to show dads they’re loved - why does there need to be a holiday? All it does is make-...” Y/n cut herself off as her explanation began to exceed the one for Valentine’s Day. 

“All it does is what?” Peter asked gently. He had a feeling he knew where she was going with her point but knew it’d be better if she let it out herself.

Y/n stopped at one of the hallway corners and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, hoping to keep her tears at bay. “All it does is make people without fathers feel bad about not having one,” she said quietly, not meeting her boyfriend’s eyes. 

Peter pursed his lips. “Hey, if anyone gets it, it’s me. I know how it feels. But you know, there are still some things you can do to celebrate him.”

Y/n finally flicked her eyes up to meet his.

“Maybe get flowers and visit his grave. Try talking to him and let out how you feel. I know it can be hard but I do it sometimes for both my parents. Whether or not you do that, remember you have Matt. Maybe get something for him. I got something for Mr. Stark.”

After they talked, Y/n felt bad about having vented to Peter as if he didn’t feel the same pain that she did. He assured her it was ok but she still silently promised to do something for him this week.

But after that, Y/n indeed got some flowers on her way home to take to her dad’s grave and a blank card for Matt. She even spent time in her room afterwards, using the dull end of a sewing needle to try and make braille-like bumps into the inside of the card so Matt could read it himself, hoping he would like the gesture. 

The card! Y/n thought in realization. She put her hand into her hoodie pocket and grabbed the card that was thankfully still in there. 

“Matty, I…I actually have something for you,” she said meekly, turning towards her brother. Even though she knew he couldn’t see, she still avoided his eyes for a moment before handing the card to him. “The front is just a picture of the sky with some clouds. The inside is more what’s important,” she explained. 

Matt, shocked, took the card from her and opened it, his blind gaze forward and his hand grazed the hand-done braille inside. For the brother who’s always been a sibling and a father to me. I appreciate you more than words can ever express. You’ve always loved me, supported me, and been there for me. I love you so much. -Y/n

Matt didn’t notice his own tears until he felt Y/n gently wipe them from his cheeks, making him jump a bit in surprise. He wiped a hand down his face and silently pulled her into a hug. As the two embraced in the cemetery, it would set off an almost tradition of going to visit their dad’s grave every Father’s Day and sometimes between that. Supporting each other in what they lost and also what they still had.

Epilogue

A few years later

“Thanks for coming with us, Peter, but you didn’t have to,” Y/n said as they walked up the hill at the cemetery. 

Peter shrugged. “It’s no problem. I was in the area anyway and I know it’s become a special tradition for you.”

Y/n smiled and squeezed his hand that was intertwined with hers, giving him a quick kiss.

“Ok, ok, gross,” Matt chided playfully, making the other two chuckle.

They finally reached Jack’s grave and Matt started by speaking a bit, then let Y/n take her turn. As they were about to leave, Peter turned his head to Matt, knowing he would hear the motion. Matt gave him a discrete nod and Peter tugged Y/n’s hand a bit to get her attention.

“This might sound weird but…would you mind if I said something, Y/n?”

Y/n’s eyes immediately stung with tears - not in sadness, but in shock and feeling overwhelming love for her boyfriend wanting to say something for her father. She smiled and nodded, not having words to say.

Peter let go of her hand and took a step forward. “Mr. Murdock, sir, my name is Peter Parker, I’m uh…I’ve been dating your daughter for some time now. I truthfully didn’t know much about you until she told me everything she knew and after that, I went home and did my own research on you so I could know everything about the man she and her brother looked up to and missed so much.” At this, a couple tears escaped her eyes. She had no idea Peter had done that. “I have a lot of respect for you, sir, and how you lived your life for your kids. I also respect how well you could take a punch,” he continued, making both Murdocks laugh a bit. Peter smiled and turned back to the grave. “Anyway, another thing I wanted to say was that I hope wherever you are you know what great kids you have and what amazing people they’ve grown up to be. Especially your daughter. I know you didn’t get to know her for very long. I know Matt has probably talked to you about her but sir…she’s amazing. She’s smart, mature, kind, funny…just amazing. I love Y/n so much, sir and only want the best for her. And I wish you could’ve been here for this. I got Matt’s approval but I wanted to do this here so you could maybe be able to see.”

Y/n furrowed her brow, not knowing what Peter was talking about. But Peter turned around, smiling at her and holding something in his hands. He bent down on one knee and opened it, revealing a ring inside. “Y/n M/d Murdock, I love you with all that I am. With Matt’s grace and your dad as a witness, I want to ask you: will you marry me?”

In the way of the truest, most common cliche during proposals, Y/n’s hand flew to her mouth as tears ran down her cheeks. Unable to form words, she nodded her head furiously. She let Peter take her left hand and put the engagement ring on her finger. Peter stood and took Y/n in his arms, letting her sob into his shoulder as she hugged him back. ‘Touched’ didn’t even begin to describe how she felt. Sure, there was sadness at being at her dad’s grave but the relief from getting to talk to him, the joy that Peter wanted her dad to be there in some way or at least be involved, the joy and love of him proposing.

Still standing off to the side, Matt had tears in his own eyes. He still held Peter’s phone as it took a video of the event. He knew Peter was a good kid and would take care of his sister. And he was glad to have someone else in their family. Someone who helped make Father’s Days ok for Y/n again.

[its-all-stardust]

Sugar || 4

Masterlist || Part Three || Part Five

Steven Grant/Sugar Mommy!Reader

Word count: 5.6k

Series Summary: You meet Steven in a museum gift shop and feel an instant connection. Before you walk out the door you decide, perhaps against your better judgment, that you need him to be your sugar baby. Now you just need him to let you treat him right.

It’s only been a few days since Steven officially became your baby, and you’re already eager to see him again. You’ve texted a couple of times since, though not much. You’re still trying to get to know him, and while you’re excited to have him, Steven is still a stranger.

A stranger, despite whatever kinship you feel toward him, you know practically nothing about.

You’ve decided against a background check, trying to let yourself be more open and less afraid of letting people in. After all, normal people don’t do background checks on every person they meet, at least not to the level you can pay for. You want to trust Steven, so you do.

But still, after your shopping trip, you’d slipped in an oh-so-casual, “So, have you ever been arrested for anything?” before you and Steven parted ways.

“That’s not your way of saying you have, is it?” Steven asked with a laugh. “Because I know I’m not that exciting.”

You assured him that no, you’ve never been arrested for anything, and you gave him a lingering hug. Stranger he may be, you weren’t letting a chance at physical touch pass you by.

And now, after a few days of going without, you need the sort of pick-me-up that only your baby can provide. You texted him in the morning, telling him to wear one of the new outfits you bought for him.

At first, you thought about telling him to send you a picture—proof that he did as he was told and something nice for you to look at—but then decided a surprise visit would be even better.

Seeing Steven in the sleek, form-fitting clothes sent heat rushing to your cheeks when he tried them on at the store you took him to. You found him attractive before. Cute, really. But something about the darker clothing you picked out suited him, even though he kept tugging at the shirt, unused to the fit.

The clothes were more for any dates than for work. You’re familiar with the itch of ill-fitting clothing yourself. You just want to see Steven in them in person, knowing he’s wearing them because of you. You also want to see how well he obeys when you’re not around.

Walking into the museum on your extended lunch break, you head straight for the gift shop. Steven gave you his schedule for the next two weeks, so you know he should currently be manning the register.

You spot him immediately, the all-black outfit—a button-down shirt and slacks—making him stand out against the white walls of the museum. With a stray curl falling over his forehead, he is an absolute vision. You didn’t choose Steven for his looks, but it certainly is a nice bonus for him to be so handsome.

There’s no one else in the gift shop, so as you walk up to the counter where Steven is fiddling with some candy, you say, “Hi, baby.”

Steven’s eyes shoot up to meet yours, face flushed and a small smile on his lips. He opens his mouth to say something, but you reach across the counter to brush your fingers against his cheek.

“Are you feeling alright? You look warm,” you tease.

“Just surprised to see you, is all,” he says with a light laugh.

You take your hand away and place your arms on the counter, leaning forward. “I just wanted to see how well you listen to me.”

Your eyes fall down his form, catching on his silver name tag. The metal flashes nicely against the dark background of his chest.

“Isn’t that the whole point? Why wouldn’t I listen to you?”

“Some babies like to be brats. With the right mommy or daddy, it works out. But I need to know you can listen before you start testing limits.” Steven’s eyes darken ever so slightly.

“And what’ll happen if I ever decide not to listen?” he asks lowly, leaning close to you.

Your heart pounds in your chest. “Then mommy will have to teach her baby a lesson.”

The door to the backroom suddenly opens, making Steven jump back and rob you of his reaction. He goes back to moving the candy around, pretending to look busy while you stay leaning on the counter.

“You realize you’ve got a customer, Stevie?” Donna says as she walks past, making your eye twitch. You wonder if she’s like this with everyone or just Steven.

“He’s already waiting on me,” you say, making sure your tone is low and disinterested, showing her that you don’t care about what she’s saying.

At Steven’s confused look, you continue, speaking much more sweetly to your baby. “He’s picking out candy for me.”

He immediately starts playing along. “Yes. Here you are, ma’am,” he says, putting down two random bags. One contains chocolate scarabs that you’re sure Steven’s told you tastes like wax and a bag of sour gummy mummies that apparently aren’t very sour and could be mistaken for rubber.

Steven rings you up, continuing the charade. After he hands you the receipt, you glance over your shoulder at Donna. Her back is turned, but that doesn’t mean she’s not listening. You’ll have to ask Steven how nosey she is.

Turning back around, you brush your hand against his where it lays on the counter.

“I have to go back to work,” you whisper. “But you’ll call me later.”

“I will,” Steven nods, and you’re pleased he understands it isn’t a question. You give him one last smile and leave the gift shop with your bag of souvenir candy in hand.

“Why do they even sell this stuff?” you ask, phone pressed to your ear with one hand while you eat another gummy mummy with the other. “They’re horrible.”

“I told you not to eat them,” Steven says on the other end of the line. He timed the call perfectly, your phone ringing as soon as you walked through your door. You’ve told him roughly the exact minute you get home every day just so he could do this. “Are you still eating them?”

“I’m trying to figure out why they’re crunchy.” Steven gags.

“Why don’t you make yourself real food instead of eating some extremely questionable sweets?”

You pause for a moment before tossing the bag aside. “Is my baby trying to tell me what to do?” You’re not mad, but you’re definitely not passing up an opportunity to tease him.

“N-no?” Steven answers, sounding unsure.

“Is that a question or an answer?”

“I—well, I just worry that you’re not going to have a proper dinner,” Steven says. A perfect way of saying yes without saying yes.

Amused, you say, “Aw, that’s sweet of you to worry. Thank you, baby.” You think you hear him sigh in relief. Done with your teasing, for now, you move on. “I haven’t asked: how was your day?”

“Not bad, actually,” he answers, sounding a little surprised about it. “Everyone was really nice today. Nicer than normal anyway.”

“Oh? Why do you think that is?” You get up from the couch, grabbing the offensive candy to throw away.

“Haven’t a clue,” Steven says, flabbergasted. “Some of the kids’ mums were smiling at me a lot, too.”

This makes you pause. “Steven, do you really not know?” you ask with a laugh and lean against the counter.

“Know what?”

“They thought you looked good. Guess I’m not the only one who sees how pretty my baby is,” you purr. You don’t mind other people admiring Steven; he’s certainly deserving of it.

“No,” he denies. “That couldn’t— People don’t— Not about me.”

“That outfit I had you wear probably had something to with it. It shows you off more than your other clothes.” He doesn’t say anything. “Steven?”

“Just feels strange. I’m…not used to it.”

You hum. “And do you like it? The attention?”

You’re about to remind him that he needs to answer you when you hear a quiet “Yes.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting attention, Steven,” you assure him. “Why do you think I have sugar babies?”

He’s still quiet. You’ll have to do something about his confidence, convince him of the effect he can have on people. You drop the topic for now, though, knowing that it’s not something that can be forced.

“I want you to come over for dinner this weekend,” you say. 

“Oh?” Is all Steven says, having been lost in thought.

“Yes, so you need to tell me what kind of food you like so I can figure out what to make.”

“You don’t have to make anything for me,” Steven says quickly. “I can just—”

“Steven,” you cut him off. Standing in your kitchen with Steven only on a phone call instead of a video chat, all you have to glare at are your cupboards. “Why did I ask you to be my baby?”

“Because…” The question seems to stump him. You stay silent, letting him think. “Because you want to take care of me?”

“Exactly.”

“It’s just…some of the things I read…,” Steven stutters. “Aren’t I supposed to be doing things for you?”

“You do do things for me, Steven. I don’t want you to wait on me hand and foot. Everybody else already does that for me. I want your attention. Your affection. I want to spoil you and show you that you deserve everything. If you ever decide you genuinely want to do something like that, you can, but not because you feel like you have to. That’s not your job here, do you understand?”

After a moment, “Yes.”

“Good boy.” Steven lets out a cough that sounds like he’s trying to cover something up. A grin finds its way across your lips. “Oh? Do you like it when I call you a good boy?”

“Mhmm.”

“What was that? I didn’t hear you.”

“Yes,” Steven says so quickly, so quietly, you almost miss it.

Your first impression of him wasn’t wrong; Steven is so much fun.

You hate cooking. Well, it’s not so bad when the recipe is easy, and you’re not making very much. When it’s more complicated, you get annoyed at all the work you have to do, especially when you’re cooking alone.

By the time you sit down to eat, you’re fine, but that doesn’t stop your grumbling every time you do it. It’s gotten easier over the years of cooking just for yourself, but it doesn’t mean you’ve come to enjoy it.

Because of that, you nearly wish you had asked Steven to arrive early to help you. But you didn’t. Couldn’t. This is for him, and you don’t want him to worry about a thing. With how he reacted to you wanting to cook for him, you suspect he’s used to putting people before himself. Either feeling like he’s an inconvenience or because he genuinely would rather do things for others, you’re not sure.

By the time he arrives, you have everything done and left on the stove to keep warm.

When he walks in, he’s already wide-eyed. Your apartment is large and spacious, with tall windows to let the light in. The decorations are a combination of help from a professional interior designer and your own eclectic preferences. Admittedly, it all clashes, but you like it. It gives your home a lived-in feeling as opposed to the sterile stock image look you see other people’s apartments and houses have.

“Your apartment has an upstairs,” are the first words out of Steven’s mouth, his eyes locking on the staircase at the other end of the room.

“Yeah, but it’s just the master bedroom and a little bit of extra space.” The extra space is the walk-in closet, but he’ll find that out when you give him the tour.

You take Steven’s hand and lead him to the kitchen and your small table. “Come on. Let’s eat, and I’ll show you around after.”

And if you thought he was gaping at your home, he looks even more in awe when he sees what you prepared for him.

Nothing fancy, in your opinion, though it certainly looks it. Steven looks amazed—touched at the sight of everything you have set out on the counter and stove.

“You made all this for me?”

All this being ratatouille with polenta and some seasoned rice. There’s also a baguette you had your assistant buy for you in the morning since the bakery usually sells out long before the end of the day. A fairly easy meal once you got past all the vegetables that needed to be chopped. And you’re certainly not going to admit that after several Google searches, you only picked ratatouille because you recognized it from a movie.

“Of course I did it all for you,” you say. “Did you think I wouldn’t make something nice for you?”

“It’s not that…” Steven starts before pausing. Then, taking a breath, he looks into your eyes and squeezes your hand. “Thank you.”

You beam at him, happy that he likes what you’ve done for him, that he appreciates it. You tilt your face up and press a soft kiss to Steven’s cheek. “You’re welcome, baby,” you whisper, your lips brushing his skin.

When you pull away, you see Steven’s face is flushed. He stares down at you wide-eyed and shifts a little, looking like he’s about to lean toward you, but stops himself.

“You know,” you say slowly, “You can do that to me, too, if you’d like.”

You’ve noticed that you’re initiating contact between the two of you, and you wouldn’t mind at all if Steven reciprocated. Especially since, if you’re reading him right, he looks like he wants to.

“Yeah?” he says softly, pupils a little wider than before.

You nod and wait.

Then, ever so slowly, Steven leans down and presses a swift, chaste kiss to your cheek.

“Thank you,” you whisper when he pulls back. Steven smiles shyly at you. Tilting your head toward your kitchen table, you say, “Let’s eat.”

Steven adored the dinner you made for him and, by extension, adored you. His expression was soft, sweet, and unbelieving when he looked at you. Every time he looked away, he seemed surprised to find you still there when he looked back.

The same adoration was in your eyes. You love giving your babies new experiences and how grateful they were to you for it. For Steven, it’s that and more. He acts like no one has ever made him a meal before. Like no one has ever thought of him and what he might like.

Perhaps no one has.

And that makes this all more special for you, makes Steven all the more important. If that is true, if Steven really has been lacking such kindness, you’re glad you found him, glad that he agreed to be your baby. Whatever his past may have been like, you’re here now to show him that he can have and deserve such nice—and, at times, simple—things.

After dinner and dessert—a specialty vegan cake your assistant also bought as there was no way you could take on the already complicated science of baking and make it more difficult by making it vegan—Steven insisted on helping you clean up. You weren’t going to argue, not when you hate cleaning up more than cooking alone. And besides, just because you want to care for Steven doesn’t mean you want him to laze about and become someone who expects everything to be handed to him. You don’t like your babies suddenly losing their morals when money comes into the equation.

“There’s something I want to show you,” you say as you put the last dish in the dishwasher.

“Oh? Time for the grand tour?” Steven asks as he stands up straight, having put the leftovers in the fridge for you.

You nod and take Steven’s hand. He happily follows you as you pull him toward the living room, intertwining his fingers with yours.

He marvels at everything, from the size to the view to even the furniture. Part of you understands why he would be so astounded; your apartment is quite large compared to more affordable ones in the city, but it still feels small to you. Though that’s more likely because you’ve been in the sprawling homes of your associates where most of the rooms are for display rather than use.

You show him your office, the bathroom, and the spare room. You don’t consider any of it all that fascinating and are more interested in taking him upstairs, but you give him time to admire everything all the same.

As you both start towards your bedroom, you feel Steven slow, his hand pulling in yours as he hesitates but not enough to force either of you to let go.

“You said your bedroom was up here?” Steven asks, sounding nervous. You know immediately what he must be thinking.

“I’m not trying to sleep with you,” you assure him. “There is genuinely something I want to show you. I suppose I could have done it downstairs, but I think my closet is the best place.”

“Your closet?” Steven’s shoulders slump, the tension draining from them, but his nervousness is replaced by confusion. Even so, he takes a step up, willing to follow you.

“You’ll see,” is all you say.

You don’t linger in the bedroom, not even allowing Steven to marvel at your large bed or the ensuite bathroom. Instead, you take him straight to your walk-in closet, flicking on the light as soon as you walk through the doorway.

Steven stops in his tracks, and here you let him look around. Dropping his hand, you step forward, walking toward the middle of the room.

“I’m pretty sure your closet is as big as my entire flat,” he says, staring at your racks of clothes, the shelves holding shoes and handbags, and the slim locked drawers you use to hold just some of your jewelry.

“Do you want a bigger place?” You assume he will; all of your babies do.

“Oh, no, that’s alright. It’s not too bad, and then I’d worry about Gus. Wouldn’t want him getting upset at a sudden move,” Steven laughs and you let out a light one of your own. You make a mental note, though, to look for something for him. If his apartment really is as big as your closet, you want Steven to live somewhere more comfortable.

“What I want to show you is over here,” you say, gesturing to the semicircle of three mirrors placed in the wall in the middle of the room.

Steven’s brow furrows, but he steps forward anyway. You take him by the shoulders and turn him toward the mirrors. Then you make him step forward so he’s standing right in front of them with you plastered to his side.

“Tell me what you see.” Keeping your hands on his shoulders, you meet his eye through the mirror.

“...Me?” Steven answers after a moment, still confused.

“Describe yourself,” you gently order. “How do you look?”

“I look alright, I suppose,” Steven starts slowly. “My hair’s a bit of a mess, but when isn’t it?” He laughs lightly, brushing the curls away from his forehead only for them to fall back into place.

You hum but don’t say anything. Your hands slide down to his upper arms, and you press yourself close to him.

“I…probably look a mess most of the time, actually,” Steven quietly admits. “My clothes are a little odd. Even you think so, what with all those clothes you bought for me. I don’t think—”

“Do you think you’re attractive?” you interrupt. You’ve heard enough and don’t want Steven voicing more self-perceived flaws.

Steven looks away from his reflection. “I-I don’t look bad, but I wouldn’t say—”

“But you like it when people find you attractive.” Steven doesn’t say anything, but you don’t need him to; he already told you he did the other night.

“Is it because it makes you feel desired? Wanted?”

Steven tenses underneath your hands but still doesn’t speak.

You look away from the mirror to look at his face directly, even though you only see the side profile.

“Do you not feel wanted, Steven? Is that why you enjoy attention from strangers?” you ask, your voice soft, quiet.

“I’m just not…good with people,” Steven finally says. “It’s hard, and I haven’t got an—a lot of friends. Most people I meet end up thinking something about me is odd…”

“I’m like that too,” you tell him, turning back to the mirror to look at yourself, to look at who you’ve become, who you are. You didn’t get to where you are by forcing yourself to be what others wanted you to be. “But that doesn’t mean you’re worth less than other people or that nobody wants you. It just means that you have to find the right kind of people to connect with and who will understand you. Forget the rest of them.”

Turning back to Steven, you reach up with one hand, placing your fingers under his chin to tilt his face up. “Stop looking at yourself how other people see you. Do you see anything different?”

Steven looks up, glancing at all three mirrors. He seemingly does a double-take when looking into the one on his right but recovers after a moment. “Not really,” he says, but something in his voice is different, making you think you’re getting through to him.

“I’ll tell you what I see then. I see a man who’s a delightful mix of adorable and dangerously handsome, a powerful combination if he learns how to control it. I like his messy hair.” You run a hand through his hair, starting at the back of his head and raking your fingers along his scalp. Steven lets out a soft gasp and shivers under your touch as you drag your fingers back down the same way.

“And I like his odd clothes and how at home he looks in them. How he isn’t trying to be someone else with what he wears.” You trace the back of a finger down his cheek. “I like how soft his face gets when he smiles, the lines that show his old joys and his new.”

Steven flushes under all your words and ministrations.

“But I think the thing that most attracts me to Steven Grant is his mind.” That, at least, makes Steven react. He doesn’t look at you through the mirror like he did earlier but instead twists around to see you from your spot just behind him.

“I like the way he speaks so fast when he’s talking about something he loves, how he can ramble for hours about it,” you continue, meeting his confused yet hopeful gaze. “How he thinks he says the wrong thing, but he’s just saying the honest thing. I like the way he looks at and experiences the world because I view it the same way. I see all of that, and it makes me want him, and I don’t understand how other people don’t.”

You pause, looking over his face to make sure he’s still listening. Then, you continue, the words soft and earnest. “You’re something special, Steven.”

When you finish, Steven is silent, his eyes flicking back and forth between yours is his only moment.

Then he surges forward, his lips crashing into yours. His nose bumps against yours, and his teeth unintentionally catch your lip. It’s awkward and unpracticed, but it steals your breath all the same.

Just as your hands move to rest on his chest, as you try to tilt your head to kiss him properly, Steven pulls away.

“I’m sorry!” he apologizes, but you note that he makes no attempt to step away from you. “I shouldn’t have done that. It’s too soon for me to be doing that, isn’t it?”

Despite his words, you only see the barest hint of regret on his face. Mainly, you see hope.

Giving him a soft smile, you say, “There’s no such thing as too soon in a relationship like this.”

Taking Steven’s face in your hand, you pull him back to you. He breathes a heavy sigh against your cheek as soon as your lips touch. His eyes slip closed as he falls into the sensation, letting you take the lead. Your hand stays on his cheek while the other rests on his chest, where you can feel his heart pounding. His hands tentatively rest on your waist before he tightens his hold.

Not wanting to overwhelm him, you keep the kiss light and slow. You want to devour him, but there will be plenty of time for that in the future. Yes, there’s no such thing as too soon, but you want to savor every first you have with Steven.

When you pull away, you swear you hear a slight groan come from the back of Steven’s throat as his lips chase yours.

You try to hide your smirk when you say, “Let’s go back downstairs.”

Steven seems a little disappointed but follows you nonetheless as you take his hand and lead him to your living room. There, you curl up together on the couch with Steven pressed to your side, leaning into you.

You don’t kiss again, though you desperately want to. You need to make sure, even though he initiated it and was very receptive when you kissed him, that Steven is comfortable with the pace of the relationship. You need to know that kissing you wasn’t something done out of overwhelming emotion that he wouldn’t repeat if he had been thinking clearly. 

You set the standard that nothing had to happen between the two of you after all.

The evening wears on and eventually slips into night, with you and Steven alternating between talking and watching some random show you put on. Not once does he try to leave your side.

It’s comfortable, relaxing. More importantly, it makes you happy. Happy to be here with Steven, happy that he’s yours.

You don’t ever want to let him go.

“Stay the night?” you offer him once it’s deemed too late for him to return to his place. “I have the guest room set up for you.”

Steven looks at you, an eyebrow raised. “Did you plan this?” he asks, a smile creeping across his lips.

You had, in fact, planned this. The guest bedroom has always been for your babies, but you were especially excited to set it up for Steven. You kept the decorations sparse and more like what can be found in the rest of the apartment. You don’t make the room too personal to you in case your baby wants to personalize it for themselves.

But despite eagerly anticipating his first night in your home, you didn’t want to order him to stay. You figured if he really wanted to leave, he would have said something sooner or even turned you down now. Much like with the kiss, you want Steven to make certain moves even though he’s the baby in this relationship. But spending the night in your apartment, in separate beds with no intention of having him crawl into yours, is something you’re willing to push on a little bit.

You shrug instead of answering Steven, though the truth is obvious. “You don’t start until eleven tomorrow, so you don’t have to rush to get home in the morning,” you say, trying to convince him.

Steven just shakes his head and smiles. “I would say I don’t have clothes or anything, but I suspect you’ve already taken care of that.”

“What kind of sugar mommy would I be if I hadn’t?” You stand and start toward the guest bedroom. “Come on and tell me how I did.”

Steven dutifully follows you before stepping past when you pause in the doorway. He goes to the closet first, having already glanced around the room during the tour. It’s not a walk-in like yours, but it’s still large with double doors. Steven grabs both handles and pulls the doors wide to dramatically reveal the contents.

He pauses at the sight of the wide assortment of clothes, and your heart beats nervously in your chest. You think he’ll like everything, but you need him to tell you. Steven reaches in and pulls out one of the many patterned shirts he’s favored every time you’ve seen him. There are also solid colors to give him variety, as well as dressier pieces that match what he took home with him, but you’re most proud of the patterns, having picked them all out yourself.

“Try it on. Make sure it fits,” you say, though you already know it will. You were there when his measurements were taken at the boutique.

Steven doesn’t put it on, though you see him check the size. He already knows how it’ll fit, too. You made sure to check his preferred size for his old clothes when he was trying on the things you selected while shopping, knowing it was different than the more form-fitting clothes you picked out.

“This is like my clothes,” he says softly, looking over at you as he pulls at the hem of the shirt he’s currently wearing, another slightly oversized, oddly patterned piece.

“I like your clothes,” you tell him honestly, repeating your earlier sentiments as you approach him. “I’ll still have you in the nicer stuff on occasion, but I like seeing you in this kind of stuff more. It suits you.” You run a hand down his chest, admiring how the shirt looks on him.

“Thank you,” Steven says, sounding breathless.

Despite wanting to wait for Steven to kiss you again, you reach for him anyway. You control yourself, though, and place a tame kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“You’re welcome, baby,” you say softly, your lips so close to his.

“I feel like I’ve been dreaming ever since I met you,” Steven whispers, sounding as if he’s afraid he’ll wake up any moment.

“And you haven’t even experienced the half of it yet,” you tease, wrapping your arms around his middle. “So I take it I did a good job?”

Steven’s free hands come to rest on your back, his fingers lightly stroking back and forth as he flexes them. “I love it,” he says, looking at you like you hung the moon.

Smiling at him, you press a quick kiss to his cheek and step away. “I’ll let you get some sleep. You should have everything you need either in here or in the bathroom.”

“You’re leaving?” Steven asks, not wanting to let you go.

“Do you want me to tuck you in?” You say it jokingly, but you would have no issue making sure Steven was snuggled up in bed and giving him a goodnight kiss.

Steven flushes and mumbles, “I-I don’t need…” before trailing off. Not quite a no, but not a yes either. You tuck that information in the back of your mind for later.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” you tell him, stepping out of his grasp.

“Wait!” he calls as you reach the door. You pause, turning back to face him. “Can I…kiss you again?”

You try to hide your excitement. “Of course you can.” You don’t move from your spot in the doorway, wanting Steven to come to you.

He puts the shirt back in the closet and slowly steps close to you. He gazes down at you for a moment, and you notice how wide his pupils are, engulfing the brown almost entirely. When Steven’s lips touch yours for the third time tonight, your skin starts to buzz. You need to leave before you push your sweet boy too far.

Your skin is thoroughly heated when he pulls away, and you’re both left breathless despite the relative sweetness of the kiss.

“Goodnight, Steven,” you whisper, forcing yourself to take a step back.

“Goodnight,” he says back. 

You force yourself to turn and walk away, and you notice you don’t hear the sound of the bedroom door closing until you’re up the stairs and out of sight.

You don’t sleep in. You couldn’t even if you wanted to, not with Steven in the room below you, so close at hand. It’s early yet, but you want to make him breakfast before he has to leave. He has to feed Gus, so you doubt he’ll be able to stay long. You want to spend as much time with him as you can today.

Quickly making yourself presentable in case Steven is already awake, you rush down the stairs. You glance toward the bedroom before heading toward the kitchen but pause when you see the door has been left open.

The bathroom door is also open, showing he’s not in there. In fact, after a quick glance around your apartment, you don’t see Steven anywhere. The floor plan is relatively open, even with the wall separating the living and dining rooms. There are few places to hide.

Confused, you call out, “Steven?”

There’s no response, but you can’t say you expected one.

Walking into his bedroom, you see the pile of his clothes from yesterday on the floor near the foot of the bed. The sheets are pulled into place but mussed enough to tell you that someone other than your cleaning lady has touched them.

You run your hand along the spot where Steven presumably slept, but the sheets feel cool to the touch.

Steven is gone and has been for a while.

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[the-little-ewok]

Entrée

Marc Spector X F!Reader / Steven Grant X F!Reader

Rating : E / 18+ 

Word count : 1650 (ish)

Warnings : Explicit, Soft Dom!Marc, lil bit dirty talk, PIV, unprotected sex, established relationship, F!oral receiving, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, cum eating 

Prompts/Summary : Smut prompts : "If you insist", "Make me", "Tell me how you like it." / Teasing Marc while making dinner gets you more than you bargained for. 

A/N : If you like this fic please don't just hit the like button. Hit the reblog button and tell me your thoughts! Support your content creators with reblogs! 

"Tell me how you like it, Spector," you tease in your most sultry tone, winking as you gesture to the spices you have picked out on the side.

"Will you please behave for just five minutes?" Marc scolds, rolling his eyes as you laugh.

You'd been teasing for a while now, wondering how much it would take to break his patience. Which it turned out, was quite a lot. But you know the last hour you've been getting to him. The pace of his breathing has changed, his temper is shorter, his eyes are darker.

You turn to fully face him, giving him the challenge you hope will break him.

"Make me."

There's a long quiet silence at first, where Marc puts down the knife he's been using to prepare vegetables, wipes his hands and takes a deep breath. For a split second you think you might have pissed him off, but then his eyes flicker up and down your body as he licks his lips, raising an eyebrow in question.

"Well, if you insist."

You turn to run, not wanting to give in so easily, but Marc is quicker. His arms are around your waist, pulling you back, pinning you against the counter before you've fully finished the thought of making him chase you through the apartment.

"We're supposed to be making dinner," you remind him with a victorious grin, as he presses his body against yours, pinning you in place.

"You started it. I'm ending it." He doesn't give you a chance to defend any of your actions, before he kisses you, hard.

Marc doesn't do things by half. He's all or nothing. And right now, when he kisses you, it's all. He consumes you, his tongue hot and slick in your mouth, his hands gripping your hips, fingers digging in, his body pressing yours into the edge of the counter, leaving no space between you.

You take it, everything he offers you. You sink into his kiss, your fingers tangling in his hair, tugging gently to pull the softest of moans, your body compliant to his wishes, moulding yourself to fit against him.

When he finally breaks away you're breathless, dizzy, hot, and wanting nothing more than to drag his mouth back to yours.

"Take it all off," he commands, tugging at your top before standing back to give you some space.

You open your mouth to tell him to do it for you, to challenge him, but there's a look in his eyes that makes your pussy clench in anticipation.

Leaning over you switch the oven off. Marc laughs softly with a nod.

"Good plan."

"Lucky you got a girl with a brain still in her head," you wink at him, watching him give an affectionate sigh.

"Clothes. Off," he repeats, taking a step of warning towards you. Disobeying his instructions probably wouldn't work in your favour, and for a moment you think of all the delicious ways he might make you pay for it, but that was for another day. You could only wind him up so much, and right now, he's probably had just about enough.

With a smirk, you lift your top over your head, throwing it to the floor. Your bra and pants follow suit.

You slide your panties down slowly, making him wait, slowly removing each leg, before standing with them dangling from one finger. You raise an eyebrow at him and lick your lips.

"This how you like i-," you cut off with a squeak of surprise as he suddenly spins you, taking both your hands and pressing them down against the counter stepping up close behind, pinning you in place.

It sets an unspoken rule. Don't move.

"Think you're clever teasing me all evening?" He asks, his warm hands releasing yours tocaress your ribs, running his palms down your sides, slowly, sensually, mapping you out before he delivers a surprising slap to your ass. It doesn't hurt, but you yelp anyway.

"Can't say you're making me regret it yet," you half sigh, with a cheeky grin, as he presses his lips against your neck. Marc lets out a dangerous laugh, his breath fanning out against your skin.

He only replies with one word.

"Yet."

~

It's been hours, you're sure. How many times has he brought you to the edge — with his fingers, his mouth, his cock — only to stop right before the drop? Too many times.

"Tell me how you like it," Marc growls in your ear, pressing you against the counter, his cock twitching inside you.

You whimper in response. Your body is slick with sweat, the effort of just staying on your feet making your legs tremble. He's held you here, right on the precipice for so long, his questions aren't registering in your hazy brain any longer.

"Tell me," He rolls his hips once more, slow and deep.

"Marc!" You whine, throwing your head back onto his shoulder. He can't possibly think you can formulate a coherent response in this state. All you can think about is the throbbing ache of need in your cunt, the way his cock is stretching your walls, and the warmth of his palm as he squeezes your breast.

"I want you to tell me how you want it, baby." His tone is softer this time, taking a different approach, trying to draw it out of you. "I want to hear you say it. Tell me what you need, how you like it."

You realise he's not going to give up. The only way he'll allow you to cum, is to answer.

"I like it when you fuck me," you slur, trying to remember how to talk.

"I'm already doing that." He gives a breathless laugh at your gasp when he gives a slow roll of his hips, pressing his cock up against that blissful spot inside you, the one that he's too damn good at finding. "You know that's not what I asked."

Marc chooses the exact moment you open your mouth, to give another devastatingly slow roll of his hips, making you choke on your words.

"I can do this all night," he mumbles, stilling again and bringing his mouth to your shoulder, sucking a mark there to join the others already littering your body.

You answer with the only thing you can currently think about.

"Like it when you make me cum," you finally manage to pant out.

Surprisingly, Marc lets out a soft chuckle, leaning his head against your shoulder, bringing a smile to your lips.

"Well, you asked what I liked," you mumble, somewhat shy now about your answer, as it clearly wasn't the one he was expecting.

"I did, and since you answered so sweetly..."

He draws back his hips, until only the tip of his cock remains inside you, before thrusting back in, deep and hard, setting a punishing pace.

You cry out in pleasure, falling forward onto your elbows, thankful for the counter supporting your weight.

"That's it, baby. Taking it so good. This what you needed?" He growls, low and deep in your ear over the sound of flesh on flesh filling the kitchen.

"Yes! Please Marc. Please!" You beg hopelessly, your body taunt and trembling, practically sobbing with pleasure.

It's difficult from your position, but you just about manage to wedge your arm between your body and the counter, pressing your fingers against your neglected clit. Marc's hands are busy, his fingers digging into your hips as he holds you steady for each deep thrust.

The touch is all you need to go hurtling over the edge, his name a broken mantra on your lips, your back arching against him, your cunt clamping down, riding out your high in thunderous waves.

Your vision goes white, your body stiffens then goes limp, and you're pretty sure the only thing holding you up through it all is Marc's body pressed tightly against yours. Nothing else exists in the world except the two of you and the overwhelming pleasure.

It takes a long moment to come down from your high, but when you are able to manage coherent thoughts again you realise Marc's cock is still hard, buried and throbbing inside your still pulsing cunt.

He seems to have some sixth sense as to what you're thinking as he leans in, licking a warm trail up your neck as you move your hand back to the counter, trying to support your weight as your legs threaten to give up.

He leans in close, his breath ghosting across your ear, "I hope you don't think we are done yet, baby? That was just the starter."

~

Marc draws it out as long as possible, denying his own release until he can't hold back any longer. He finally gives in, letting out a broken moan as he spills inside you in long, slow thrusts, before he half collapses against your back.

As his breathing slows and evens, he brushes his nose against your back, up between your shoulder blades before he nuzzles your neck sweetly.

"Beautiful," whispers a soft British accent.

"Steven?" You smile, still a little giddy from your… well you don't know how many 'nth orgasms.

Steven hums in answer, his fingers trailing lightly across your ribs, and down to press his fingers to the mess between your legs.

You gasp as he brushes your sensitive clit, bucking your hips against his hand.

"You've made quite the mess," he comments, running his fingers across your slick cunt. "I didn't realise what Marc meant at first when he said I could pick dessert, but I think I understand now."

"Dessert?" You sigh, still on the way down from your recent high, confused when Steven pulls out and away from you.

"Stay there, darling." He instructs gently.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him kneel down on the kitchen floor, taking one of your thighs in each of his hands. You frown, twisting slightly to look at him

"Wha-ohhh!" Your entire body trembles as he buried his head between your legs, his tongue flicking out to taste your soaked folds.

He groans as though tasting a gourmet meal.

"Can you go again, love? Give us one more?"

Your body is exhausted, your head in the clouds, thoughts fuzzy and unclear, your muscles ache, the counter digs into your thighs, Steven's fingers against your skin are too much, the dinner spoiling.

"Yes. Yes, Steven."

~

Dinner ends up in the bin, Marc orders take out, then Steven runs you a bath. You offhandedly remark that you still don't have any regrets about teasing them.

Marc promises the night is still young.

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