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jarofstyles · 3 years ago

Note

hey besties, pls do a football player Harry (soccer in case ur american lol) and physical therapist y/n !!

I know absolute shit all about football (soccer bc we are American) but we can give it a go!!! Plz don’t be mad I don’t know anything about it cause it’s ✨make believe ✨

If you like this, check out our Patreon!

—-

He was a little shit.

A beautiful, charming, irritating, little shit.

When Y/N has signed on for this team, being the medic was something she had been passionate about for years. Having her own accident and making it so she couldn’t properly play anymore, it was her mission to still be involved in the game so how. Y/N’s own injury and healing process had her become more and more interested in the profession, and here she was.

It wasn’t everything she had dreamed of, as nothing ever was, but it was good. She got to sit field-side every game, close to the action. And every injury she got first look at. She helped the guys with their stretches, their previous injuries and keeping them from Re-injuring themselves, taking care of them and making sure their physical shape was the best it could be.

In general? She was happy. But there was one man who was a thorn in her side and a pain in her crotch.

Harry Styles.

The man who decided it was his personal mission to follow her around like a puppy dog. Popping up in her singular moments of peace during game day. Texting her and asking about very, very small twists of ankles and giving her the ‘🥺 maybe you should come and look at it…’ whenever he did so.

Not to mention his complete and utter want to get into her pants.

Now it wasn’t as if she couldn’t handle a few sexual jokes. Y/N was a big girl and knew 99% of the time, the guys on the team knew their limit. And Harry? Harry, in reality, was a gentleman. Never touched her inappropriately, ever. But the problem was… she kind of wanted him to.

There was no actual clause against staff members and players being together or hooking up. Nope, just frowned upon. Maybe a slap on the wrist. However Y/N knew, she knew that the moment anyone caught wind of her potential affections for any team member or acting on it? It would end with everyone thinking she slept with them to get the job.

Y/N worked long and hard. Tireless hours for make sure these men were healthy, fit, and at their best. She wouldn’t sleep with anyone for any job, and she was actually respected by this team which was something a lot of women weren’t in this field. She could not and would not throw it away for a good dicking.

Fuck, did she want to sometimes.

—-

Harry had these hands. The perfect hands, in her opinion. Big, strong with thinner fingers. Long fingers. A good sized palm, not overly veiny, just perfection in male hand scales. Luckily (or unluckily, whatever way you’d put it) she got to handle them often.

“S’sore today, doc.” He winced, sitting on the table in front of her. Harry’s wrist throbbed. It was rainy, and it was usually a wreck when it was the perfect condition. The ache was annoying, and he knew she had a solution.

Her lips pouted softly as she gently took the hand in place, thumbing over the part of the wrist where rhe injury had occurred. She had learned a while ago where to press, how to rub and get it to lessen before she wrapped it up. “Yeah… old injuries tend to never let you forget.” She sighed, pushing her glasses up into her hair.

Harry never could get over how fucking gorgeous Y/N was. From her nose to her lips, the pretty sparkle in her eye, the curve of her hip… he was obsessed. Not to mention the fact that she was so gentle with him. So kind and sweet, though he knew he got on her nerves with his teasing sometime. She could handle it and he always tried to watch to make sure he wasn’t going too far, but he couldn’t help it.

He was a silly boy with a bit fat crush.

Y/N didn’t bite for any of them. Everyone had attempted when she first came on, testing the waters. Her pretty face was welcome to all the blokes in the team, and there was something incredibly attractive about a woman who could heal. Nonetheless, she never gave in to anything.

In Harry’s case, he knew it was different. He could see her smile at some jokes, see her get the bumps on her skin when he brushed her a certain way. But she avoided the eye contact. Avoided the touches. And it drove him mad.

Of course she wouldn’t know he had actual feelings for him because he was a giant coward most of the time. He hid his affection in the dirty jokes and the teasing squeezes of her waist and teasing. He was a thick skinned man but a full rejection form her would hurt.

Her soft fingers gently massaged over the wrist, making him groan. His head tilted back and he let it out, hissing slightly when she pressed too hard. “Oooh, don’t worry sweetheart. Y’know I like it to hurt a little.” His wide smirk made her roll her eyes huffing under her breath.

Y/N was not having a great day. She had been harassed by an Ex all fucking night over her new job. Making all the damn assumptions that she was getting ‘trained by the team’ in a much more vulgar way, and she had cried half the night. To say she wasn’t in the mood was an understatement, but she was trying.

Harry was not what she needed today, because it made her feel worse. Her blatant attraction to him made her feel guilty. She should be professional and leave it with. The way she had squeeze her legs tighter while he groaned didn’t help her case. The ugly words of how they’ only kept her around for a potential fuck’ was ringing in her head.

Harry though, he was a little oblivious. Her hands were so talented, and he didn’t watch her face for once as she hit a good spot again and he let out another remark.

“Jesus, that’s good. Do those magic hands work everywhere?”

That was the straw that broke her. It wasn’t his fault necessarily, he was just playing. But her eyes watered, hand yanking away as she turned from him, walking over to the bench. Trying to compose herself was hard as the tears burned so hard in her eyes, hands shaking slightly.

Harry startled, not used to that. She never flinched away like that, never ignored his remark and walked away. Usually told him to fuck off, rolled her eyes, something. But the energy in the room immediately shifted and he was uncomfortable. What had happened?

Cautiously, he cleared his throat and stood up from the bench, licking over his dry lips as he spoke again. “Uh… Y/N?”

“S’all I’m good for, right?” She muttered under her breath. Frantically wiping under her eyes she tried to focus on the paper in front of her but she could feel Harry approaching.

He furrowed his brow, not sure if he heard correctly. “Wha-“

Y/N whipped around fast, eyes teary and wet. “I said, that’s all I’m good for right? Only good for my hands and sex and all that pleasure you can get from me?” She hissed. “Only good for a romp in the sheets and a pretty face to heal your wounds and put on band aids. Only good to make you get off and feel good and then what? I’m left here with nothing.”

The tears left her, her hands shaking as she grabbed her bag. Harry felt his stomach drop. Never, ever had he wanted to make her feel like that. Her crying? That wasn’t something he ever wanted to see again. He felt like he had taken a ball to the gut, hard. Those eyes he adored being full of pain, full of tears was his own personal hell.

“Y/N… wait, I’m so sorry, I didn’t-“ he tried to follow her to the door, stopping abruptly when she lifted a hand up to him. Her stomping had made him nervous. Now she was leaving without talking to him and he felt like a complete dick. It was their normal teasing, but he had crossed a line.

“Don’t. Just…. Just leave me alone. I’m going home.”

—-

As much as Harry had wanted to chase after her, he had already made her cry once. He wasn’t risking it again.

The icky, gross feeling in his stomach followed him all day. He was gutted. Not only has he apparently crossed a line with someone he respected, he had a fucking crush on her. The man was convinced no other feeling was worse than a crush being angry at him. Even if it sounded juvenile to place it like that.

Harry liked Y/N. He never ever wanted to make her upset in any capacity, let alone feeling like a sex object or violated. He prided himself on respecting women. And he had fucking failed. He needed to make it right, and fast.

He had found her address. In her employee file, and he knew that was bad but he needed to check on her. Regardless of what happened beforehand, she was upset by him enough to leave and go home and he wanted to make sure she was genuinely okay.

It was an overstep and Harry knew it. He had to try, though.

He arrived at her door step with a box of cupcakes and some flowers. Gently kicking the floor, he heard the door open and his heart broke a little more.

Y/N standing in front of him with swollen eyes. She had been crying, seemingly a lot. And she looked upset still. Though he expected her to close the door in his face and tell him to fuck off. But she didn’t.

Instead, she broke into tears again, throwing herself into his chest. Her arms wrapping around his waist, he nearly tumbled over but righted himself as he startled. Quickly he found himself recovering, wrapping his free arm around her and holding her. He was able to maneuver slightly and drop the cupcakes on her entry table, flowers as well before having his arms free.

“Hey…. Sweetheart, what’s the matter?” He whispered softly, gently placing a hand on her back. Rubbing it up and down, letting her cry into his tee shirt. It was worrying. Whatever happened was beyond him, but he wasn’t going to let that take away from the fact he had added and made it worse.

“I’m sorry.” Her muffled response was sobbed into his shirt. “I’m sorry for yelling… and saying you thought those things, you were playing and I…” she pulled back worth tear streaked cheeks and Harry’s look of pure concern making her lip wobble. “You didn’t do it. It was… he kept sayin’ that all the team wants is in my pants, and you make me feel guilty because you’re so…. Beautiful, and I never slept with anyone to get this job! Never. And then he wouldn’t leave me alone-“ she hiccuped, looking up at Harry as he caressed the back of her head.

“Who, lovely? Who wouldn’t leave you alone?” He asked with a calm tone. Of course he wasn’t. Someone was harassing her. And Harry would fucking take care of it. It boiled his blood to think of someone making her feel less than.

“My ex.” She sniffled again, slowly calming. Harry had that quality, she thinks. “He-He broke up with me for taking the job. Said… said that I was going to be a personal whore for all of you. And not do my job.” She took a shuddery breath. It was embarrassing admitting this to him, but he had been on the receiving end for a meltdown that wasn’t his to fix.

“Well, can I tell you something?” He brought his thumb up to wipe away some of the sticky tears from her cheeks. “You arent. You’re no one’s whore. You’re a respected, talented and intelligent member of our staff. You so happen to be incredibly beautiful, which obviously makes people find you more bewitching… but I know that we all look at you as a professional talent. They may have tried their luck at the beginning but you laid down the law quickly and they all understood.” He whispered.

“Me? I was trying my luck, because you’re incredible. And I think you’re lovely. But that isn’t a conversation for now. Let’s make some tea, hm? Relax. I brought you some cupcakes. I need to properly apologize for being inappropriate to you. Regardless if it was a joke…”

—

He sat next to her on her couch. The poor girl was better now, washing her face and a mug of tea in hand while Harry had helped himself to a vase and put the flowers inside. Carnations. He thought they were pretty, didn’t know the name until Y/N had fawned over them.

“I’m sorry for freaking out on you.” She said softly, her big sweatshirt swallowing her up. Before Harry could interrupt, she put a finger up. “I know that you were just playing, Harry. I let you flirt with me like that. And I enjoy it.” She could feel herself get warm in the face. “If you’ve noticed, I let you get away with it. I enjoy it. And you didn’t do anything out of line. I was sensitive… I was still raw and I hadn’t had much sleep because he had blown up my phone and regardless he was telling me things he said in person over and over again. So…” Y/N shifted in her seat and used her sweater paws to bring the drink to her lips. “When you came in… I felt guilty for finding you attractive. For liking what you said to me.”

Harry sat for a moment, quiet. So she had liked it…. And felt guilty. Now knowing the context? It made sense. For the life of him he was trying not to hold in to the fact that she enjoyed it, but he couldn’t. It made him excited.

“Okay. That makes sense. Usually.. I do a better job at reading your physical cues. Sometimes I can see something isn’t the right thing to say because you’re tense already. But I was in my own world cause you were making the pain go away and I felt good. It isn’t an excuse, though.” He gently grabbed her hand once she set down her warm tee, thumbing over the knuckles.

“I felt like such a dick. I still do. You know that? And it isn’t because I’m attracted to you. But it’s because I didn’t think about the position I’m putting you in by flirting.” He moved a little closer. “I would never try and jeopardize your job. I’ve been blinded by my own feelings for a while and I was trying to feel it out but I didn’t think to think it was because someone else or a group of people would look down at you for it.” He frowned.

It was so unfair. They wouldn’t care if he slept with her. But they’d ridicule her for sleeping with him.

“I just want to let you know now as well… I wasn’t trying to come on to you to have a hookup.” He hummed. “The feelings I’ve got are genuine. Alright? They aren’t just too get into your pants. And I never want you to feel as though that’s your only purpose. Ever. You have so much worth, and while I’m positive you don’t need me to tell you that, I want tok anyways.”

He was unreal. She really thinks so. How did a man just… be like him. He was a fan favorite and had charm but behind the scenes he was even better than anything they said.

“Yeah. I think I was afraid. Because… I’m the same, you know?” She shyly admitted. “You’re charming and I didn’t want to admit I let your charm get to me, but it has. It has very much. And I like you. I don’t know what to do about it, but I think it’s only fair I admit it myself as well when you’ve put yourself out on the line.”

Harry’s grin grew, dimples pocketing in his cheeks. She liked him back. His heart was ringing in his ears, the shy little look into her eyes making him want to explode. Fucking adorable girl making him feel such intense emotions…. It was incredible.

Thank god. He thought he was going insane.

“We don’t have to do anything in the sense of our job right now. But since we both know… would you want to explore it? I would say privately. Just get to know each other better. Talk. Hang out. Cook food together… maybe kiss.” He smirked slightly at the end, making her let out a laugh. Her laugh soothed his Damn soul.

“I think I’d like that.”

——

Part II maybe? Who knows

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djarinsbeskar · 3 years ago

Text

Counterstrike - Boxer!Din AU

Definition - a strike that retaliates against an earlier strike.

A/N: Finally back with a long awaited instalment for Boxer!Din. I’m floored by the response he has received since I posted him first and I just wanted to thank you all so much for showing him (and me) so much love (and lust). In particular, I’d like to dedicate this instalment to @bestinbeskar @honestly-shite @3frontier and @pedro4ever for the gorgeous art of Boxer!Din they each made! Links can be found on the Boxer!Din masterlist below.

Word Count: 3.5k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: SMUT! Unprotected sex (do as I say, not as I write), semi-public sex, rough dom!Din, dirty talking, no beta.

Main Masterlist | Boxer Materlist

Ever since he first fucked you in the middle of his boxing ring, Din had developed a bit of a bad habit. A habit that involved finding some way to bury his cock inside you ever time he saw you; an inconvenience since you mostly came across each other in less than private settings. His gym, the sports clinic, or the massage studio you worked at.

It was sweltering, the city falling under the hold of a heatwave that no number of cold showers would help cool. Din ran hot by nature, and the heat only served to make him two things: irritable and horny.

That might explain the near instant reaction he had to the tempting little sundress you wore to combat the suffocating heat when you popped your head around the main doors of the gym. Your day off if the lack of uniform was anything to go by. A vision in coral pink and flushed skin, you beamed against the metal and muted, dark tones of the boxing area.

Sweat dropped down his temple from where he lay on the bench press, bare chest glistening and muscles taut as he lowered the barbell down slowly to his chest. Trained, expert eyes – honed instinct to notice every miniscule move of an opponent – picked up the flash of color and immediately flickered over to where you were approaching him.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

His jaw clenched as he turned his attention resolutely back up to stare at the ceiling, focus Djarin. With a measured exhale, his muscles bunched to press the heavy weight back up away from his body, held it for a beat, and let it lower once more on a slow inhale.

Three more.

His head turned towards you to admire your form as you traced your hand over the dumbbell stand, skilled fingers walking along the progressively heavier weights while your eyes met his in the wall of mirrors behind the stand. You smiled. And it lit your face up.

Jesus fucking Christ.

His eyes dropped from yours down your body indulgently, content to hold the weight of the barbell a beat longer. The way that dress clung to every damned curve he wanted to sink his fingers and teeth into, the swish of the skirt barely reaching the middle of supple thighs that looked better thrown over his shoulders. The fucking nerve you had to not bother concealing the faded mark on the top of your breast where it peeked out from over your neckline where he left it several days ago.

His mouth twisted into a snarl, his mark. Damn fucking right.

You were teasing him, crossing one ankle over the other to turn towards him with a dainty twirl of your skirt. Don’t get distracted on the bench, he growled to himself internally, and with a grunt, he pushed the barbell back up, the lines of muscles that cut across his triceps flexing taut and his pectorals pulsed from the strain of exercising them.

The pulse of his cock in his gym shorts on the other hand, that wasn’t a muscle that was supposed to be engaged for this particular exercise.

Two more.

“Miss me already, sweetheart?”

He ground out, voice rough and strained—keenly aware of the sway of your hips as you walked back towards the bench, his eyes at perfect eye level to thighs he wanted to wrap around his waist. You passed his head – fuck, he could smell you from here – to stand by his hips. He brought the barbell back down slowly towards his chest, breathing more labored than it should be and his jaw clenched in frustration. You were getting to him.

His grip on the metal bar almost slipped entirely when you hiked up the skirt of your dress to kick one leg over the bench and straddle his hips, the sudden weight and heat making him grunt in surprise.

You were soaked—he realized at the same time it dawned on him that you weren’t wearing any underwear.

“Does this answer your question?”

Voice as light and airy as the lavender scent that suffused the room you gave massages in—making his teeth grind and his hips struggle to remain still when memories of that same voice breathless and gasping with moans he elicited rose in his memory.

You rubbed yourself over the thick outline of him through his gym shorts – you little fucking tease – and sweat wasn’t the only thing dampening them anymore.

“Finish your workout, Din,” you sighed breathily, hooded eyes scanning the empty gym floor appreciatively—basking in the ability to rock so openly and languidly over his throbbing cock. It was a sunny day. It was the end of the week. No one was in the gym—and that was precisely why Din chose to work out now.

His eyes never left yours, molten pools filling with dark promise clashed with yours as your small hands found the planes of his tight abdomen, the muscles clenching sensitively under your touch,

“Keep your back straight… don’t want to injure yourself again—” you purred and received a warning growl in response when he pushed the weight back up, a ripple of heated arousal gathering low at his spine and tightening to a coil beneath your hands that indulgently ran over toned muscles and tawny, inked skin.

One more.

Fuck… but you felt so good. Grinding on him like that.

Din’s hips rocked up against you despite himself, his heels pressing into the grate metal flooring to push his clothed cock against your dripping cunt, your soft gasp when he caught your clit music to his ears and the last bit of motivation he needed to drop the barbell back to his chest. You focused your ruts on the tip of his bulge, the fucking audacity you had to use him to get yourself off—grinding your clit over his soaked shorts and digging short nails into his stomach while soft, gentle eyes darkened with lust bore into his.

He lowered his hips again, smirking at the soft whine of annoyance you couldn’t mask in order to adjust his posture correctly. With one last exhale, a panted curse as corded muscles tensed and released with a final burst of energy, his arms straightened once more above him.

Finally.

He had a hand tangled in the length of your hair before the clatter of the metal barbell hitting the hooks of the stand above him died out, yanking you down until your breasts were flush with his heaving chest. His other hand – calloused and rough – grabbed a fistful of your ass, the soft material of your dress bunching effortlessly in his hand,

“Didn’t get enough last week, baby?” he growled against your mouth, guiding your hips over his cock harder now that he could thrust shallowly against you, grinning darkly at your keen of frustration when his mouth glanced yours, avoiding kissing you, “fuck, you’re soaked for me already—”

Teeth grazing your jaw, you arched your neck back in blind submission, the hand caught against his stomach shifting down to tug at his shorts, succeeding in getting them only halfway down. You both groaned at the contact when wet, slick heat burned around the leaking head of his cock, making the heatwave outside feel like nothing more than a warm breeze.

“Din…” you moaned when a perfectly timed grind of his hips knocked the blunt tip against your hooded bundle of nerves, “a week is too long…” you admitted to the boxer’s delight. Finally. He wasn’t the only one going stir crazy only seeing you sporadically.

“Yeah?” he rasped, tightening his hold in your hair so he could keep your head pulled back while he licked a small trickle of sweat that was slowly making its way down to the hollow of your throat, “thinking about my cock all this time?”

Feral pride filled him at your immediate nod, his chest swelling with a primal snarl – why the fuck did you have to agree so easily, he’d never stop thinking about it now – and captured your lips heatedly with his own. Growling your name, he plundered your mouth—lapping along your tongue and groaning at your taste, swallowing your soft sighs and mewls of satisfaction at finally having his lips on yours again.

His hand dropped from your hair to drag down your spine, down the thin fabric that clung to your heated skin until he was dipping two thick digits between exposed cheeks to swipe through your drenched folds. Circling, spreading, coaxing whines and groans of his name with every press of his fingers. Music more beautiful than even the most skilled pianist could create, and all from the fingers of a fighter.

Conversation from elsewhere in the vicinity carried through empty corridors and with a dip of his fingers into your quivering entrance – chestnut eyes sharpened to dark amber watching doe eyes flutter shut in pleasure – his words breathed into your mouth when your lips parted against his,

“Locker room. Now.”

What followed was a heated scramble, a need to be close—to remain in this transcendent bubble of scorching touches and burning attraction. He practically dragged you with him across the gym floor, weaving between machines with his hand wrapped firmly around your wrist. You already looked wrecked, thoroughly corrupted with mused hair, and crooked clothing. Your legs wobbled as you followed his menacing frame, eyes glued to the shifting muscles in his back, an apex predator dragging his prey back to devour in rapture. You went willingly.

The tiles of the shower cubicle were cold when he shoved you against them – the only place remotely private in the locker room when he tugged the thin curtain closed behind you – his hands flexing around your jaw when he turned your face up for him to kiss. Free hand pressing into the small of your back, he made you arch against him, and you mewled at the solid length of him throbbing against your stomach.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he rumbled, hand snaking around to disappear beneath the skirt of your dress again as he rocked his hips against you slowly—cupping your cunt and his teeth leaving a trail of bites down your throat as his words whispered across the tiles.

You blushed.

He saw it—even above the flush of arousal, he saw your cheeks darken and your eyes flicker to the side at his words. Avoiding his gaze, expecting a hunter’s response of claws and teeth to your doe-like display of weakness—and his eyes softened minutely. Some of the aggressive tightness bled from his gaze which he hid in a nip to your jaw, the heel of his hand rubbing in tempting circles over your swollen clit while his fingers split along your entrance, smearing your slick over puffy lips.

You rocked your hips over his hand needily, fingers scratching down the sides of his neck, scoring passion into the tanned skin and whispers against his lips – please Din, please – along with the pleasurable pain rippling from your nails compelled him to shove two fingers knuckle deep into your tight cunt.

He covered your mouth quickly with his palm when an unadulterated moan ricocheted off the tiles, echoing louder – “fuck baby, quiet” – was hissed against your cheek even as his fingers picked up a merciless pace of pump pump pump, his thumb swiping across your clit, his speed building—making it harder for you to stay quiet as you whimpered against his hand.

Nails digging into his shoulders, you buried your face into his sweat slick neck when he dropped his hand from your mouth to hike your leg up over his arm, spread you wider for him to thrust soaked fingers into your sopping core.

When you came the first time, you bit his neck—his teeth baring from the sting while his fingers scissored against your convulsing walls, dragging you through contractions of pleasure that sent spikes of electricity to cloud your brain in a muffled babble of yes yes yes sobbed into his neck.

Condensation misted the tiles by your head as heat lifted from sweltering bodies. Din growled praise, rough rasps of “good girl, that’s it…” into your ear as you relaxed around fingers that were lazily curling up inside you, your mouth working lazily over the sensitive point where his jaw met his neck, nipping—licking, begging him to fuck you.

His brain short circuited.

His large body caging you against the wall, you preened and arched and tempted him into you with soft sighs of his name and your hands tracing down to the hem of his shorts. Heavy, lust-pooled eyed followed your hands, watching you pull him from his shorts and stroke him with expert fingers that never failed to make him fall apart—on your table, in your bed… you bewitched him with touch since first he met you. He was a slave to it.

“Fuck, baby—” he groaned, his head falling back before he swiped your hands away from his swollen length, giving it a few hard strokes as he ran the head between your exposed folds. He filled you with on thrust, a filthy squelch as your pussy accepted him – unable to be gentle, unable to take his time when all he could think of was claiming you over and again, of meeting your counterstrike with a knockout and hearing your surrender in cries of his name.

He was big—so big that every time he filled you, it felt like he was splitting you apart. The smallest hint of pain, the breach of his cock melting into a delicious fire that licked and coated your nerves as the fat head knocked against soft tissue inside you. He found his pace with a slow rut that dragged his cock along tight walls where you could feel every single vein throb enticingly against you.

His facial hair sanded across your cheek as he panted how good you felt, how tight—how addicted he was to the feel of you, how he wanted to fuck you for hours. Your nails curved down over the muscles of his shoulder blades, along his waist—basking in his size, his strength—his head lowering to scrape his teeth over the swell of your breast, sucking over the ghost of his previous mark and drawing blood back to the surface as he snapped his hips back into you.

And then the door to the locker room opened, and conversation filled it.

Din didn’t even think before slamming his fist onto the water pressure, drenching the two of you in seconds with cool water and drowning the sounds of his cock slamming into you with the hiss of water falling in rivulets down your bodies.

You moaned, too far gone to know – or care – that you weren’t alone, and his hand came back up to cover your mouth with a warning growl into your ear, “Shut up, unless you want to give them a show.��

Even as he said it, his pace grew harder—punching gasps and sounds of surprised pleasure from parted lips that were only mitigated by the calloused palm he folded over them. Your nipples pebbled through soaked fabric, drawing his eager mouth down to suck it raw through the dress, whimpers for more echoed in the tight clench of your cunt around his glistening length.

Steam filled the shower, bleeding out into the locker room where laughter and conversation blended to mask the wet slaps of his skin against yours, the sodden movement of clothes and his guttural groans around your nipple as you clawed at his undulating back.

“Din—” you whispered, panting as strands of your hair fell into your face—fucked out and divine when his mouth slanted over yours again, your chest heaving while one hand lifted to cup his jaw, keeping his mouth on yours. He snapped into the dripping grasp of your pussy hard, shoving you up the wall onto your toes, the graze of the short coarse hairs at the base of his cock tickling over your sensitive clit.

“So fucking loud…” he growled on a whip of anger, the sound cracking down the feral possessiveness of his tone and making you moan. He would spank that pretty ass red, your pussy pink if there wasn’t the risk of the sound carrying to the other athletes getting changed for their workout.

Oh well.

That just meant he would have to take you again later.

His balls tightened and his stomach clenched at the thought, fuck. He wanted you again and he hadn’t even cum yet—your tight little cunt already quivering and tightening around him with your oncoming orgasm as he lost himself in eyes flooded with open desire— disarming him with the candor he saw reflected in them. He swallowed thickly.

“Gonna ruin you, sweetheart,” was his immediate reaction, the only way he could think to reciprocate. A gush of wetness pushed around his cock drilling into you, your walls getting impossibly tighter, and he smirked darkly—his nose pressing into your cheek, teeth bared and feral, “you’d like that, huh?”

Delirious nods were all you were capable of as silent gasps kept your lips parted, eyes rolling back when his thumb dropped to draw tight, fixated little circles on your clit—forcing you over the edge with a final blow that sucked the breath right out of you, the boxer taking and taking and taking everything he wanted from you with wet thrusts and brutal bites to your already marked neck.

He swallowed your orgasm with his mouth, the wet strands of his hair dripping water onto your pretty face as he sucked your tongue into his mouth, dropping his free hand to slide down the length of your side as his thrust turned erratic, chasing his high—chasing that bliss he could only find buried deep inside you.

“Cum, Din—cum,” you breathed, cupping his face as you smiled—exhaustion written plain on your face and his brows pinched in concentration, dropping his forehead to your shoulder with a gasp of your name, breathless as he pulled out—his hand moving frantically over the swollen length of him until he coated your mound and dress with his release. It washed away in streaks of milky white down your body, a subtle pang of fatigued frustration to see it disappear so quickly flashing though him.

The locker room was silent when he turned the water pressure off.

Apart from your labored breathing, the locker room was silent—the prior occupants leaving none the wiser or – if they had heard anything – wisely leaving.

Din dropped your leg from where it remained hooked over his arm, his hands fisting in the skirt of your dress to drag the sodden material up and over your head with a shiver at the uncomfortable feeling of wet clothes.

The sight of your naked body made his softening cock twitch, dammit. You were all gentle curves and soft skin, clothed in the marks of his mouth and bruises of his grip.

He wanted you again.

And caged within his arms, trapped with his hands pressed either side of your head, his shaggy head of soaked waves falling into dark, guarded eyes—you could admit you wanted him again too.

“I’ll wash your dress,” he rasped gruffly, taking a step back from you and kicking off his shorts to wring out and toss into his gym bag. He left the shower with effortless calm, as if he wasn’t stark naked but returned with a towel for you to wrap yourself in.

You flashed him a grateful smile that stuttered when he tossed another – smaller – towel on your head, rubbing it quickly over your soaked locks despite your complaints, a crooked smirk your only indication that he was playing.

“You don’t have t—”

“You can wait for it to dry at my place.”

His words brokered no argument as you padded after him into the empty locker room, the boxer rummaging through his own locker to pull out a simple white t-shirt—long enough to cover you… just about. The hem fell shorter than your dress and you were distinctly aware of your lack of underwear when you pulled it on.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he rumbled as he tugged a tight black muscle shirt over his head, looking down at you with a devastating smirk and sinfully half-lidded eyes, “I don’t share. No one will see you.”

Taglist:

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ptergwen · 4 years ago

Text

written in the stars

w/c: 2.7k

warnings: jus (lots of) making out

summary: using your newly acquired knowledge of astrology, you test your compatibility with tom

a/n: i was planning on making this a little blurb for y’all but then i got really into it and here we are lmfhfksjks i promise you don’t have to know anything about astrology or birth charts to enjoy cuz i broke it all down + it’s not the main focus of the fic anyways! this is mostly a day in the life with tommy boy and i hope you like it as much as i do :,) also some of this might be wrong.. i’m not an expert so yeah

•┈୨♡୧┈•ﾟ｡

“right, so how does this work again?” tom watches your laptop screen with curious eyes.

you’ve been getting into astrology lately, and whatever you care about, so does he. that’s why you’re currently laid across your bed in sweats while you teach him everything you know. but first, you’ll need to do his birth chart. it’s the pinnacle of everything.

“you just have to tell me what time you were born, then it does the rest for me,” you grin, typing in the name of the website. you’d had to do some research to find a reliable one. “that’s it? you don’t need, like, my birthday or something?” tom quirks an eyebrow at the chart generator.

“i already know your birthday, babes.” you laugh softly and let your head fall onto his shoulder. “you crazy gemini.” “‘m not crazy.” he smiles despite himself, leaning his head on yours. “just got a big personality, innit? charming, clever, lots of energy,” he lists off the characteristics of his sign, which you just taught him. that lights up your whole face.

“definitely not cocky,” you deadpan, tom scrunching his nose in response. “look at you, remembering all that. you really are clever.” “well, it’s interesting.” he drapes an arm around you, fingers running up and down your side. “i quite like the idea of the universe knowing me so well.”

tapping your fingers on the keys, you hum. “you’ll love your birth chart, then. tell me when you were born.” tom grimaces and squeezes at your waist. “i don’t actually know.” “how do you not know?” you flick his back playfully, making him flinch. he pokes you so you’re even. “i’ve never thought to ask. guess i’m not that clever after all.”

those are teasing words, but you press a reassuring kiss to his cheek. he gladly accepts it and gives you one on the side of your neck.

“no, your head’s gigantic. there’s gotta be something up there.” you knock on his skull for emphasis, your hand tangling in his hair. tom lets out a breathy chuckle. “hot air,” he explains as your fingers run through the messy locks. “you’re so...” you don’t even have the words. tom does. “hilarious? witty? amusing?” he tries to finish, tilting his head back to look at you.

“yeah, all of the above,” you confer and bring your hand back down to the keyboard. your lips curve into a smirk when tom whines. he’s the biggest baby, and he makes no attempt to hide it. “why don’t you text your mom and ask for your time of birth?” you suggest, tom pursing his lips in agreement. “sure, i’ll give mum a ring. i bet she loves this stuff, too.”

you roll over to lay on your back, tom still on his stomach. he pulls his phone from his pocket and opens imessage. “ah, nikki’s an astrogirl?” you wonder. tom makes a funny face at the term. “is that what you call yourselves?” “not really. well, not officially.” giggling, you loop your fingers around his wrist. “you can be an astroboy, if you want. or girl.”

tom sighs and leans over so his face hovers above yours. “god, you’re adorable. how are you so cute?” he gently pecks your lips. you’re about to kiss back, then he moves off to your cheek. after that is your forehead, chin, and finally down the bridge of your nose. it leaves you out of breath from laughter and with warm skin.

“i can’t answer that if you’re gonna launch a kiss attack on me-“

tom’s lips capture yours in a proper kiss, which you now get the chance to reciprocate. you hold him in place with your hands on his cheeks. his eyes instantly flutter closed and lashes tickle your face. the feeling draws another giggle out of you, and right into his mouth.

“absolutely gorgeous,” tom mutters against your lips. “anyone ever tell you that?” “you do, tommy. all the time.” your voice comes out gravelly, breathless, a grin painting your face. it transfers to tom. “mm, that’s right. my pretty baby.” he’s beaming down at you. he moves on top of you swiftly, his weight held up by his elbows on your sides.

you pull apart so you can go back in harder, hands situating in his curls again. tom grabs at your hips while the kiss deepens. your legs wrap around his waist clad in joggers and allow your bodies to be even closer together. the less space between you two, the needier you both get. “love,” tom parts his lips for you. “can i get a little more?” “course you can, tommy.” your fingers tug at his curls, mouth opening slightly.

his tongue skims its way across your lower lip, asking for access. you give his hair another pull to grant it. tom lets his tongue slip into your mouth, searching for your own as his hands continue to roam your body. he’s gone from gently peppering you in kisses to fully eating your face. no complaints, though. a quiet whimper escapes you when your tongues clash.

tom starts to push up your t-shirt, eyes opening to meet yours for approval. they’re completely darkened. you nod because you can’t answer with words. your tongue is preoccupied, intertwined with his. he sets his hands on your bare stomach, your nails scratching at tom’s scalp in a way that elicits a low groan.

“feels good?” your words come out muffled, barely audible. tom still understands them. “so good,” he rasps, calloused fingers dragging along your skin. they start to move up your body as you brush your lips against his. the kiss is light, and tom’s lips feel swollen as they move. his hands are nearing your chest, your legs tightening around his waist.

it earns another sinful noise from him. you want to see just how much he’s enjoying himself, so you peek up at him. what a sight that is. his faced twisted up as he focuses on kissing you, strands of hair stuck to his forehead from your playing with it. he’s so beautiful, and deserves to know. before you can tell him, you see his phone light up from the corner of your eye.

“tom,” you mumble his name. he’s too distracted by searching for your bra hook to hear. “tommy?” you’re louder this time, his mouth moving off of yours. “what is it, love?” tom exhales, hot breath hitting your face. “i think your mom texted back.” you offer a smile and run your thumb over his plumped lips. he only squints at you.

“about your time of birth,” you clarify. “for your birth chart.” “oh, that.” he kisses your thumb, nodding to himself. “forgot we were doing that.” tom tends to get a bit carried away with anything you related. making out can go on for hours and down many different paths, but it’s not the only thing. he’s a man in love, and the woman he shares that with gets all his attention at any given time. you’re so lucky to receive it.

you nod back and feel his racing heart as it beats against yours. “if you still want to, yeah.” “i definitely do. wanna hear you say more nice things about me,” tom jokes, a smug grin pulling at his lips. your eyes narrow. “who says they’ll be nice?” you challenge and earn a snicker from him.

“alright, missy. can you hand me my phone please?” he drops his head onto your chest, big brown eyes gazing up at you. “yes, sir.” you pat his cheek and grab his phone from next to you. tom’s contact name for nikki is set as ‘Ma x’, which brings a toothy smile to your face. “here you go.” you dangle his phone above his head. tom takes it from you promptly. “thanks.”

after leaving a couple of kisses on your clothed chest, he rolls to lay next to you. “let’s see, let’s see,” he murmurs, reading his mom’s messages. you scoot closer so you can look. “ooh, lots of crying emojis,” tom remarks. “i think you made her kinda nostalgic.” you pout at the screen. copying your face, he clicks on a picture nikki attached.

“she even pulled out the birth certificate.” he shows you his phone, and you zoom in to see when he was born. “big stuff here,” you say while you read. tom takes the time to get comfortable, resting his chin on your shoulder. “looks like you popped out in the middle of the night,” you conclude, giving him his phone back. he clicks his tongue at you.

“don’t say popped out.” feigning innocence, you glance over at him. “too late.” tom types out a reply thanking his mom before tossing his phone aside. “middle of the night makes sense, though.” he bites the inside of his cheek. “i’ve always been a party animal, haven’t i?” you turn onto your side and put a hand on his chest.

“it’s in your gemini nature. or really, your tom nature.” tom does an over exaggerated wink. “i like the sound of that.” he chuckles when you hit at his chest. “bring the laptop. let’s get this thing going.” you huff as you reach over him to grab it. you’ve switched positions so you’re laying horizontally on your stomach and over his legs, your laptop in front of you.

“if we find out there’s any scorpio in you...” you shutter. “hm? what’s wrong with scorpios?” tom wonders, watching you plug his birth time into the generator. “they’re literally insane, tom. like, serial killer insane. there’s statistics.” your eyes go wide as you hit enter. he leans his head back on his arms with a wince. “never mind, then.”

a small gasp leaves your lips, you squeezing tom’s knee. “it’s done.” “what does it say? share with the audience,” tom requests so you do your thing. you’re eager to get to it, turning the laptop to show him his birth chart. “ok, so.” you point at a box a few places down. “this is your rising sign, which is basically how other people see you.”

tom reads the chart, moving his own finger along the screen. “it says i’m a... taurus. what are those like?” “in one word? boring,” you summarize, tom only frowning. “kidding, kidding.” his frown fades into a small smile at that. “they’re known for being super nice and chill... also stubborn,” you tell him and prop your head in your hand.

“so, that makes no sense. those are complete opposites,” tom comments, slipping out from under you. he settles by your side. “i don’t get how i can be a gemini and a taurus, either.” “weird, right?” you sigh in content as his hand comes to stay on the small of your back. “very strange. do you think it could be wrong?”

“are you questioning the universe’s plan?” you tease, tom drumming his fingers on you. “yes, i am.” “see, you’re stubborn! taurus things.” you scroll down to his moon sign before he can protest. tom sticks out his tongue and tries to lick your cheek, which you stop by putting your hand in his face. “next is your moon sign,” you laugh out, ignoring his boyish behavior.

“that controls your emotions and private thoughts,” you elaborate and look presently surprised when you see what tom’s is. “yours is sagittarius. that’s a cool one.” “is it? how come?” tom sneaks a few kisses down the shell of your ear. “you guys are really open-minded and into things that challenge you.” he nods, signaling for you to go on. you turn onto your back so you’re looking up at him.

“you’re all about your freedom, though. it’s hard to hold you down for too long.” grinning, tom brings his face into your line of vision. “that must mean you’re a real force because i’m not going anywhere.” he nudges your nose with his, lips ghosting over yours. you return the smile and meet him halfway for your lips to connect. “anytime soon,” tom adds on in a whisper, kissing back easily.

this one doesn’t last long, but it doesn’t need to. it’s just one of those kisses that makes you feel each other’s love, no matter how you go about it. they’re essentially your own made up love language.

you’re still smiling when your lips detach, fingers combing through tom’s tussled locks. “now that we’ve done the big three...” you preface. “androids, aliens, and wizards?” tom jokes, you breathing out a laugh. you’d thought he had a soft spot for sam and bucky. your suspicions were correct.

“cute, but no. your sun sign, moon sign, and rising sign,” you explain to him. “sure, sure. what about them?” tom toys with the hem of your shirt while you think. a mischievous glint in your eyes, you suddenly sit up. “since you know yours, and i know mine, how about we test our compatibility?”

tom is well aware of what that means, and he isn’t so sure he’d like to do it. he’s someone who believes in cliches like soulmates and fate, so he’ll take your results seriously. after the lessons on astrology you gave him, especially.

his heart will always hold a special place for you and you only. nothing will change that. but, what if the universe says you can’t be together? where do you go from there?

“um,” tom presses his lips into an uncertain line. you’re already getting your laptop. “i mean, do we want to know? what if we’re not...” you come back over to him with both eyebrows furrowed. “compatible?” “yeah” he hesitates before answering, which tells you he’s nervous.

“it’s just for fun, tommy,” you assure him and press a quick kiss to his lips. “besides, if anyone could defy the odds, it would be us.” tom perks up a bit, sitting up next to you. “you think we’re that strong, huh?” “absolutely. do you?” you’re already sure what he’s going to say. he pulls you into his lap, kissing at your hair and letting it linger. “one hundred percent. i’ll do it.”

you put your laptop in your own lap with a grin. tom’s arms hold you by your middle. “ok, here we go,” you mutter, searching for a good compatibility calculator. it doesn’t take long to find one. “remember, this all a bunch of theories. our love goes beyond what a stupid website tells us, okay?” you remind him, his arms tightening around you.

“okay. i love you,” tom speaks into your hair. “you’re so good at saying exactly what i need to hear. how do you do it?” “i love you too, and that’s a secret i’ll never tell.” you take one of his hands and bring it to your lips. tom’s leg bounces while you plug your three signs and his into the calculator. before hitting the calculate option, you look at him over your shoulder.

“ready?” your finger hovers over the cursor. you know how much these things mean to him, so you want to be positive that he is. “can we do it together?” tom asks shyly, which is highly uncharacteristic of him. “sure, baby. on the count of three.” you wait for him to place his hand over yours. he grips it tight, then you start to count. “one... two... three.”

the two of you click calculate at the same time, your results taking a few seconds to load. “love, i’m so nervous. i can’t look.” tom dips his head down so yours is blocking his view. you lightheartedly roll your eyes. “it’s fine, tom. i’m sure we’ll-“ the screen changes to display your compatibility rating, you cutting yourself off. he slowly creeps out from behind you.

“oh, god. are they in? what’s it say?” tom grabs onto your waist, feeling vibrations from you giggling. you shake your head at the website. “it’s really good... almost a perfect match. told you we’re meant to be.” he joins in your laughter, an endless amount of kisses going down the side of your head. “now, it’s written in the stars. we’re untouchable!”

he’s flipping you over so he lays above you, lips colliding messily with yours for the millionth time today. you don’t mind, though. you could do this a million more. “a power couple,” you continue for him between another peck of his lips. “always have been,” tom corrects and shuts you up again with his mouth on yours.

your hand reaches up for him, but doesn’t make it as the passionate kiss he’s giving you takes your breath away. he locks your fingers together instead, whispering one last thing.

“always will be.”

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland smut #tom holland au #tom holland request #tom holland oneshot #tom holland blurb #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut

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midnxghtsunwrites · 4 years ago

Text

PILLOW TALK | 18+

PAIRING —

jax teller x black reader

SUMMARY —

you give your husband a pleasurable punishment for annoying you.

WARNINGS —

18 + smut, pillow humping, penetration without protection, choking kink, daddy kink, slight (but not slight) breeding kink, praise kink, slight voyeurism, sexual degradation, oral (female & male receiving), edging, squirting, over stimulation, 18+ gif under the cut, fluff if you blink

NOTES —

idk why this is so fucking longggggg but it is so 🤷🏾‍♀️. also i can't spell so ignore all spelling mistakes. also also, while i tagged this story as x black reader, this goes for any poc or just anybody

when jax teller caught you fucking yourself on one of the decorative pillows on the shared bed, he wasn't surprised

you were always impatient — especially when you were annoyed with your husband

he came home with unexplained bruises the night before

you asked about it — he said nothing so you decided to punish him by not waiting for him to get home

he also didn't kiss you goodbye this morning

usually, he'd be fucking you senseless by this time of night, but presidential duties call for late nights and horny wives

you were hoping he'd call to let you know he'd be late, but recently, he seems to have forgotten what a phone is good for

so there you are, straddling and soaking the side of the pillow, naked and warm

you imagine jax's dick rubbing along your slit and occasionally sinking into you before popping out of your hole

you simulate this with your fingers as you dig into yourself

"fuu —" you moan out, "right there, jax."

you twitch as you speed up, the friction of the cotton against your pussy making you squeal

jax crosses his arms over his chest, taking in the sight of his beautiful wife's body — squirming and waiting for him

he glides across the room quietly before he ends up right behind you, licking his lips

"you impatient bitch." he announces himself. "where are the boys?"

you shiver at the name he calls you — you have such a weak spot for him and his words

"with gem." you take your bottom lip into your mouth with a moan, "i'm annoyed with you, you asshole."

even though you're mad, you allow him to rest a hand on your bare ass and spread your cheeks apart, revealing your glistening wetness

"and why's that, darlin'?"

"you didn't kiss me this morning."

jax chuckles at your whiny behavior, "you're a spoiled ass old lady, you know that?"

"hmm," you guide your ass back, closing your eyes as jax gathers your juices from your pussy before spreading it around your asshole, "whose fault is that, daddy?"

your outlaw biker rolls his eyes and scoffs, "you know i don't like you getting off without me, babe. guess i need to teach you a lesson."

ooo, you're excited for this one.

one hand wraps around the back of your neck and presses you down into the sheets while the other swirls around your cunt, gathering your cum from your previous orgasm

you're soaking wet, sweat and nut dripping down your thigh

with no time wasted, jax sinks three fingers into you and curls them

grinding your ass back, you drop your head forward into the bed and bite down on the sheets under you

"get your head out of the goddamn sheet, y/n." he lifts the hand around your throat for three seconds to slap your ass before pushing your head down further.

you twist your neck so your ear is pressed into the sheet instead of your mouth

"daddy," you moan aloud, trying to chase your quickly approaching high, his fingers digging into your softness without remorse, "fucccckkkk!"

"look at you — soaking my rings like the slut you are." his fingers plunge into you, hitting all the right spots

your body seemed to go into hyperdrive — you snake your hand down to your clit only for jax to pull his fingers from within you and slap your hand away

with a heaving chest, you groan out, "i hate you."

now he pulls away completely, "excuse me?"

you resist the urge to roll your eyes, instead grinding your ass back — he's stood directly behind you, his crotch pressing up against your cunt

you can feel him hardening and straining against his jeans

"i. hate. you." you repeat, words coming out as moans

"get on your knees."

his tone is so stern that you almost comply right away.

almost.

instead, you shake your head and arch your back as you crawl forward on the bed, risking your own pleasure just to spite him

you don't get far before he grabs your ankles, one hand wet against your skin, and drags you towards him, flipping you in the process

laid out under him completely bare, the sight of his eyes on you nearly leads you to another orgasm

"get on your fucking knees."

"well," you tease, "when you say it like that..."

he helps you slide off the bed with shaky legs — you sink to your weak knees and face his wet crotch.

you can smell your own juices and see his dick strain against the constricting material

without wasting time, you pull his pants and underpants off, his manhood slapping against his abdomen

you take him into your mouth, swirling and spitting and gobbling and gagging and all things nasty — jax grabs a hold of your head and fucks into your mouth like it's just another warm, wet hole

when he releases in your mouth, you don't even think about swallowing it all — you just do.

his moans ignite something deep within you — something that craves him deep in you

"on the bed."

this time you abide by his command without question

you lay on your back and watch as he pulls his kutte and hoodie off, revealing his toned and tattooed chest

he steps out of the pants that had pooled by his feet and gets down on his knees

guess it's your turn

his lips latch on to your bud, a hum of pleasure escaping you at the feeling

you swear you've never met someone who eats the 🐱 like your husband

he releases a string of spit before spreading it with his tongue, and capturing your pussy lips in his mouth

your chest heaves at the build up and sensitivity of your clit

"jax," you squeal loudly and lift your head from the bed to watch him

your hips move at their own accord, chasing the high jax is so good at giving you

one hand grabs a hold of your crumpled sheets while the other entangles in his soft hair

he grabs a hold of your closing thighs and pushes them apart, opening you up more to his assault on your coochie

you can hear your wetness as he tongues your pussy, his eyes closed as if savoring in your taste

subconsciously, your body twitches, your orgasm quickly approaching

as if it couldn't get any better, jax adds his long digits into the mix

his fingers pump in and out of you with such ferocity

then suddenly, he slows down, his tongue licking a long and agonizingly sluggish stripe from the hole of your ass up to your clit

"w-what —" you see stars behind your eyelids, "stop edging me."

he glances up at you and through hazy eyes, you can see a hint of a cocky smirk and a charming wink

your eyes flutter closed as you feel him shift to kneel beside you

"jax..." you moan and writhe under his stare — you can just feel him looking at you

leaning forward, he kisses your chapped lips, transferring the taste of your juices to your mouth

the hand that was submerged in your heat trails down your skin from your throat to your pelvis — your body twitching at his warm touch

without warning and his lips still attached to yours, he dips three fingers into your honeypot and curls them up

his hand flashes up and down inside you, brushing against your sensitive clit and hitting your g-spot relentlessly

"f —" you pull away from jax's lips and transfer your gaze to his hands moving in you

your brain and body turns to mush as a wave of ecstasy rushes through you

your hand shakes as you grab a hold of jax's wrist that flexes and relaxes in you

"jax, i'm gonna squirt." you moan as your grip tightens, "fuck, fuck, fuck! don't stop, please!"

the pleasure is so immense, tears begin to flow down your face

and then you squirt, your juices leaking on your sheets

you don't even focus on the fact that you have to change the sheets before bed (which you have no energy to do)

all you can think about is the feeling of jax's hands on and in you

fuck, you just love when he touches you — solidifying the fact that you're his and his alone.

especially in a heated moment like this

feeling powerless, you use your remaining energy to bring his head to yours

he peppers sweet kisses all over your face, removing his fingers from your hole and trailing them up your skin

they land around your throat, gently squeezing the sides of your neck as he meets your lips

you moan into your husband's mouth

suddenly, he grabs the lower part of your body and turns your hips towards his

with his body over yours, propped up by his elbows, he slips his tongue into yours, the kiss growing into one that seems to give you your strength back

jax teller just has that effect

before you can register what is happening, jax slips into you with his thick cock

fuck — you just love his body

he's blessed in places that other people could only wish for

he groans against your lips at the feeling of your wet warmth

"fuck, baby. you feel so fucking good." he moans out as his hand cradles the side of your face, "so nice and tight for me. so fucking wet around my dick."

"makes me wanna cum deep in this pussy and give you another kid."

at the thought, you run a hand over abel's name tattoo on his chest

abel wasn't biologically yours but he is very much your son

jax parts your legs so your knees are practically by your head and slams into you, going balls deep in you

"give me another baby then." you pant, running your hand down his chest to grab his chain

he slows down for a millisecond to give you a look, "you sure?"

you take your bottom lip into your mouth and snake your hands down to grab his beautiful ass

"fuck yeah."

with the go-ahead, he wreaks absolute havoc on you

his thrusts are hard and relentless, chasing his high as much as he's bringing you yours

"oh my g—" you scream out as his dick repeatedly jabs your cervix, "jax!"

"that's it, baby," he meets your y/c/e eyes as he plunges into you, mercilessly, "scream my name."

you can feel the familiar sensation approach, "fuck! i'm gonna cum, jax."

your eyes cross and your mind becomes slosh, yet again

jax has that effect too

your pussy walls clench around his throbbing cock, milking him as much as he milks himself off

"fuck, y/n," he grunts, shakily as his orgasm approaches

he doesn't usually come this fast but the mixture of your wetness and the prospect of cumming in you to make a kid has him yearning to do just that

you cum before him, your body trembling and writhing unintentionally.

"fuck," you try to push him off slightly to relieve some of the intense pleasure but he has the exact opposite in mind

he drives into you once more, feeling as he ejaculates inside of you, strings of cum painting your insides

he stills, breathing heavily as he rests his weight on top of you

you exhale deeply, your hands trailing up to rub his back

he would never tell the boys but he loves being in your arms after such a hard fuck like that

"i think i should punish you more often..." you giggle, turning your head slightly to look at him

he pecks your cheek sweetly, "you can try."

you two linger in the silence before jax grinds into you once more for good luck

"i love you." he says, sincerely.

you smile, joyfully. you love hearing him say that.

"i love you more."

"and this baby we just made."

you can't help the laugh that escapes you. suddenly, you remember a moment from the morning, a pair of lips ghosting yours.

suddenly, you whip your head around to look at your man who was already admiring you

"you did kiss me this morning!"

he winks, "never go a morning without."

general taglist : @gwenspacy @saccreigns @complacentviawattpad @rosenoirwrites @random-ficreader23 @kyla-queen @neealicious

let me know if you'd like to join any of my taglists! feel free to like, reblog, and comment! also, my asks are open — and im taking requests!

#charlie hunnam imagine #charlie hunnam #jax teller imagine #charlie hunnam x black reader #jax teller x black reader #charlie hunnam smut #jax teller smut #jax teller x reader #charlie hunnam x reader #charlie hunnam headcanon #jax teller headcanon

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winterscaptain · 4 years ago

Text

marksmanship.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: thank @quillvine for kicking my ass into gear on this one. for the record, i took artistic liberties with the differences between the beretta and the glock - nothing too crazy, but they aren’t that different in real life. (yes, hello, i live in the united states of embarrassment and i’m sorry). the first two lines of dialogue come from ncis episode 1x09 and were the original inspiration for this fic. lemme know what you think and i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!

words: 1.1k warnings; guns (handguns, sniper rifles), firing on human-shaped paper targets on a controlled range, questionable teaching practices, Sniper Hotch™

summary: “you know how you smoke out a sniper? you send a guy out in the open, and you see if he gets shot. they thought that one up at west point” - samuel fuller. au!april 2013

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next?

You watch him tape your phone to the target brace, dangling right over the hostage outline.

“Damn it, Aaron. I need that.”

He puts his headphones on and kisses your cheek, lining himself up behind you. His lips rise to your ear and you suppress a shudder. “Then don’t shoot it.”

You adjust your grip on your new Glock, not entirely accustomed to the bigger weapon. Aaron’s weight against your back and his hands on your hips doesn’t help, either. He’s always distracting, but with a firearm in your hands, there’s a little more thrill to it, a little more benign danger.

It’s exciting.

This wouldn’t be nearly as fun with Derek.

You take a shot, immediately letting all your breath out in a sharp exhale when you miss entirely.

“That’s okay. It leans left. Now you know.”

You nod and roll your shoulders out again, staring down the sight.

This time, you remember everything you’ve learned, taking a deep breath and firing on empty lungs. You barely blink, but still miss just outside the outline of the unsub.

Aaron kisses the curve of your neck where it meets your shoulder. “Three more, then notes.”

To his credit, he doesn’t move, only supporting your body as you get used to the slightly heavier weapon. There’s less recoil than your old Beretta, but the excuse is always welcome.

You fire off three more shots in quick succession, one hitting inside the lines, right at the top of the head.

Placing the gun on the felt pad Aaron lent you, the barrel facing down-range, you press the button to bring your target toward you so you can evaluate it. Because you’re the only two in the range, you remove your hearing protection and so does he, saving you the effort of shouting.

Aaron reaches past you, pointing at the paper, completely ignoring your phone still dangling by the tape. “The Glock releases faster than your Beretta, and will pack more of a punch,” he says. “You don’t have to cheat high because your rounds won’t arc down as much at the higher velocity.”

You look at your groupings, finding they were almost exactly where you aimed them, instead of the centimeter below, like you expected. “Makes sense. What else?”

“Like I said first, it cheats left. You’ll have to compensate by about an inch to get it where you want to go.”

You snort. “So what you’re saying is, if I want a perfect shot I have to aim right at my phone.”

When he doesn’t say anything, you look over your shoulder. He’s grinning.

You roll your eyes and put your headphones back on, grumbling something that sounds like “fuckhead,” but Aaron isn’t sure.

He stands back a little ways, confident that you’ve got the hang of the disparities in physics, with his headphones on and arms crossed. You roll the target out to seven yards (the average distance to an assailant) and take a deep breath.

Thank God you backed that phone up before you left this morning.

You fire off three shots, Aaron’s voice echoing in your head.

Front sight, trigger press, follow through.

Front sight trigger press follow through

Frontsighttriggerpressfollowthrough

You set the gun down and pick up the scope from his disassembled sniper rifle - another item on Aaron’s to-do list for you today - and look at the target.

With a sigh of relief, you see that your phone is intact and you’ve got a nice, tight grouping on the unsub.

You hear Aaron’s small round of applause before you remove your ear protection, and turn around to acknowledge the praise with a gracious tip of your head. “Not so bad?”

He shakes his head. “Not so bad.” He sniffs, holding the scope between two fingers - it’s huge, but he makes it look easily manageable.

Nice.

“Now - long-distance marksmanship will definitely take us the rest of the afternoon.”

You let your head fall with a defeated groan. “We’ve been here since nine and it’s nearly one, Aaron. Can’t we do this… any other time?”

He raises his eyebrows. “The range is deserted. Would you prefer an audience?”

Your mouth twists. “No.”

+++

You shove your earplugs in your ears and fold your arms right where Aaron’s shoulders flatten, resting your chin over your hands. You’re laid out entirely flat over him, lined up as best you can for posture and angle.

He’ll take a few shots after he shows you how to adjust for wind, distance, obstacles, all of it.

“The scope will take you where you need to go - you just have to get the reading right.”

Aaron settles his cheek against the stock of the gun, staring down the scope with his left eye. “So,” he says, his voice clouded by concentration, “we’re going about three thousand yards today. What you’ll want to do for a distance like that, with the wind as it is today from the southeast…”

How does he know that?

You look up, trying to look at the clouds or the trees or something.

He rolls his shoulder, knocking you a little off-balance. “Hey. Focus. I’ll show you.”

You settle back against him, very much liking his method of teaching, and listen as he walks you through all the knobs and levers and hinges on the scope.

“...And then,” he presses his cheek against the stock again, making sure his shoulder is flush, too, “you fire.”

He takes a deep breath, pausing for a moment when all the air is gone, and fires.

There’s a decent amount of recoil as he takes the shot and you can feel the muscles in his back ripple under you as he absorbs the energy.

“We won't be able to see it well until we drive out to the target - it’s nearly two miles away - but you can see a decent amount through the scope.”

You kiss the back of his neck. “Very nice.”

The pull of his cheek is visible from where you are, but you can’t completely see his smile. “Thank you.”

+++

By the time you get back Aaron’s car outside the BAU offices, you’re entirely beat. Your shoulders ache, your nose is full of dry dirt and gunpowder, your fingers are stiff, and you’ll need to ice your hips and knees when you get home.

Aaron makes it look easy, but keeping your heels flat in sniper prone for two hours is awful.

“Remind me why I went to you for marksmanship training, again?”

He grabs your hand and kisses the back of it. “Because I’m the best.”

+++

tagging: @avengersbau @ambicaos @angelsbabey @arganfics @averyhotchner @bwbatta @capricorngf @cevanswhre @crazyshannonigans @criminalsmarts @deagibs @forgottenword @genevievedarcygrangerwriting @hotchsflower @hotchslatte @hurricanejjareau @joanofarkansass @kelstark @prentisswrites @little-blue-fishie @lotties-journey-abroad @mandylove1000 @missdowntonabbey @mrs-marcus-moreno @pan-pride-12 @popped-weasels @quillvine @qvid-pro-qvo @reidingmelodies @reidsmismatchedsocks @roses-and-grasses @shesbiochem4 @ssahotchnerr @ssaic-jareau @ssareidbby @starsandasteroids @stxrrywildflower @sunflowersandotherthings @sunshine-em @teamhappyme @this-broken-band-girl @ughitsbaby @unicorn-bitch @luciilferss @violet-amxthyst @word-scribbless @writefasttalkevenfaster @zizzlekwum @iconicc @avatarkorraswife @mooneylupinblack @ssworldofsw @nuvoleincielo @kaemarie23 @violentvulgarvolatile @abschaffer2 @ellyhotchner @rousethemouse @baumarvel @reidtomestyles @dreamsonthewall @jhiddles03 @willlemonheadsupremacy @infinity1321 @messyhairday-me @itsalwaysb33nyou @s-unflowxr @imlottiie @stummdummrumstehen @hqtchner @finnologys @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @hothothotchner @happyvol7 @the-falling-in-the-danger @ssa-holmes @mac99martin @ssahotchner99 @vagabond-ing @triangularroses @itsmytimetoodream @magic_in_the_eyes_of_the_beholder

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #tali talks cm #tali writes fanfiction #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

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reikuto · 4 years ago

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— THEIR FAVORITE MOVIE GENRES!

WARNINGS! — cursing, mentions of blood

CHARACTERS! — kaidou, saiki, nendou, haidou, aren

CONTENT! — fluff? sorta?

A/N! — tried to make it shorter cause i feel like all the writing in my previous posts might’ve overwhelmed people but i don’t think there’s much of a difference rip asf

KAIDOU loves watching fantasy/adventure movies! ugh, the dragons, the magic, the epic sword fights, he just loves all of it! his eyes are glued to the screen every second of the movie and he will hush you if you try to talk. no commentary allowed, he needs to focus on the story. if you couldn’t tell, he’s very serious about his movie watching experience. if you guys happen to go to the movie theater, he will leave it thinking he is a literal god. will shout for dark reunion to come after him if they dare. (feel like he’d be a fan of the narnia franchise, lord of the rings, arthur and the minimoys, enchanted etc.)

SAIKI loves watching si-fi/action movies! they just feel the most relatable to him in terms of all the science fiction and y’know, him having like, every single power known to man. he also feels that they all have the most interesting plots and even more shocking twists. you find it really cute when a scene catches him completely off guard and his mouth just forms an small ‘o’. lowkey gets really hyped while watching; he’d stand up and gets closer to the tv, place his hands on his hips in frustration, or literally teleport out of the room when he can’t believe something just happened. you find it all very amusing. (feel like he’d like some wierd ass fucking movies like sharknado, snakes on a plane, sharktopus vs pterocuda, etc. because they’re so random that he can never predict anything and that excites him. you however are very caught off guard by his unique choice of movies)

NENDOU loves watching comedies! they’re entertaining and hilarious, what’s not to love about a classic comedy? except, spoiler alert, he’s extremely picky with his movies. like, if that shit doesn’t have him laughing in the opening scene, it’s over, he’s completely lost interest. which is usually what happens, because he has a varying sense of humor. on that note, if the movie does suit his standards, this man is laughing up a literal storm. his face gets all pink from how hard he’s cackling and he slaps his thigh like a doofus. even if the movie isn’t quite for you, you’re usually laughing with him because his laugh is so infectious. (i think he’d like shit like super bad, grown ups, neighbors, etc.)

AREN loves watching psychological thrillers! something about them just really fascinates him. like, horror movies are ok, but they can get repetitive at times. you could be screaming in his literal ear from the bloody axe murderer that just popped up on the screen and he’ll be sitting causally beside you, watching the scene unfold. but with psychological thrillers? this boy is on the edge of this seat the entire time, knee bouncing up and down as he watches the characters interact. he’s the type to get very invested in the characters and get really pissed when they die. he just enjoys movies that make him think and like, reflect on what he just saw. (probably enjoyed parasyte, midsommer, we need to talk about kevin, hush, etc.)

HAIRO loves watching feel good movies! ugh, he thrives off the boost of energy he gets when he watches a great film. let’s be honest, he 100% loves the feel good sport movies in particular. gets heavily invested in the characters and their stories and most definitely cries while watching their struggles. when it comes to scenes where characters have to score a winning point or something, he gets out of his seat and starts yelling and chanting. if they do win, this boy is jumping all over the damn place, practically roaring. (most definitely likes the blind side, bring it on, soul surfer, the karate kid, etc.)

#the disastrous life of saiki k.#saiki headcanons #saiki kusuo #kaidou shun #kaidou headcanons #nendou headcanons #nendou riki #aren headcanons #aren kuboyasu #hairo kineshi #hairo headcanons

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enbiart · 3 years ago

Note

Delinquent kel at the party Aubrey took him to?

HELLO I FINALLY FUCKING WROTE SOMETHING. yes this is written instead of drawn out. a bitch needs to break out of xyr writers block.

i tried to put in a read more and it didnt work :| mobiles a bitch

The music pounded through his skull. It was loud and blaring, a constant thump thump thump coursing through his veins. It was some pop song he'd heard on the radio a million times yet somehow never caught the words to; Not that it'd do him any good to know them, anyway. He could barely hear his own thoughts over the chatter and movement of people throughout the house.

He took a sip from his solo cup. It was nearly empty with some off-brand soda, more flat than fresh. It was the exact same drink he'd gotten when he first arrived - Aubrey advised against getting refills after the party really got going, saying that the drinks would probably get spiked at some point.

On the other side of the living room, some girl started taking her top off to the slurred cheers of the crowd. That's as good a sign as any that people were getting drunk now. Kel sighed and took another sip. He was starting to get a headache.

He decided to go look for Aubrey. They may have arrived together, but they almost immediately got separated. He wanted to be hurt by her negligence, but after just five minutes in the sea of dancing highschoolers and strobe lights he could barely tell left from right.

At first, the energy and atmosphere of the party made his blood positively sing. Ducking in between partygoers, grooving to the tunes, helping himself to the snacks - this was nothing like those lame school dances. It was leagues better - it was exciting and new and made the world outside the house walls melt away as if it didn't exist.

But now...now he was a bit lost on what to do. He tried socializing, had a thousand different topics he could use to befriend strangers with, but this was a party organized by the graduating class of his highschool to celebrate the start of their last year and he was just a freshman. A short, baby-faced freshman at that. Even now he could see people giving him weird looks from the corner of his eyes. He wasn't going to make much progress with these folks.

He groaned quietly. Bothering Aubrey would make him feel better.

He downed the rest of his soda and tossed the cup to the floor. Everyone else had done it, so why bother being the one person to actually look for a trash can? ...He actually felt kinda bad for the guy that had to clean this place up after the party. Poor, poor man.

Kel wandered through the house, peeking into different rooms and regretting most of it. There were a lot of drunk high schoolers doing a lot of drunken misdeeds. There was going to be so, so much gossip at school next week, he was sure of it. Thankfully, none of the drunken miscreants had pink hair, so he was saved the horror of having to tell Aubrey she'd done something embarrassing.

After making a full round through the house, he found himself looking into the kitchen. It was less crowded than the other rooms - some unspoken party ettiquette to not mess with the fine china? - and it was there that he finally caught sight of Aubrey. He opened his mouth to call out to her -

- only to freeze as he saw the people she was with. He recognized them as her newer friends. Kim, and her brother Vance. Kim was sitting on the counter, playfully kicking him as they bickered about something he couldn't hear. Aubrey was clutching her stomach laughing at whatever it was. None of them noticed Kel standing in the entrance.

Something twisted in his chest at the sight. It prickled painfully and made the room feel too small and too hot. He clenched his fists hard enough to hurt.

Wordlessly, he turned and left.

The back door of the house was in a hallway directly to the left of the kitchen. The hallway was empty and the door unlocked, so Kel didn't think twice about slipping outside into the night.

The sudden shift from the heat of the party to the chill of the night was enough to give him goosebumps, and he belatedly wished he'd worn something with longer sleeves. The back light was on, moths and gnats fluttering around it and casting moving shadows on the patio. Colors from the party inside streamed through the windows, and the music was still fairly audible.

He gritted his teeth. There was a rusty metal gate in the fencing around the yard that led to the side of the house. It only came up to his hip, and he hopped it.

The alley between this house and the next was dark and cold; The streetlamp further ahead barely reached it. Metal trash bins were lined up against the walls, in varying degrees of fullness. A cricket began to chirp nearby, and the sound hurt his ears.

He took a deep breath, walked further into the alley, and kicked one of the trash cans as hard as he could. And then he kicked it again, and again, and again. He knocked one onto its side and stomped on it with all his might. The lid rolled on the ground. He picked it up and threw it into the street.

The sound and smell was horrible but it still felt oh, so satisfying. He didn't even know why he felt so angry. He already knew Aubrey had friends other than him. Hell, he knew they were probably ten times more fun than him at parties. There was no damn reason for him to be so pissed off, and yet! Here he was! Here he was!

He growled and kicked another. Ugh!

It had taken a lot of effort to get to this party in the first place. His parents had been absolute asses about everything he did lately, and didn't even approve of him hanging out with Aubrey any more ever since the town started talking about her. He'd had to work up a lot of nerve to ask Aubrey to take him here, and even more to actually get here. He climbed out a window, for Christ's sake! Climbed down a house!

So why -

SMASH!

- was he -

SMASH!

- having such -

SMASH!

- a crummy time?!

He panted. His foot was starting to hurt.

"Looks like someone's having fun."

He jumped, nearly tripping over himself in his haste to turn around. Bathed in shadow, Aubrey stood leaning against the wall, watching him with an amused expression. Kel's face flushed with embarrassment. God, she must've seen all of that.

"Whoops, didn't mean to scare you," She said unapologetically. "I don't think I could've given you a heads up, though, with how into it you were."

Kel glared weakly at her and crossed his arms. He knew she was going to make fun of him for his little temper tantrum, but he really wished she wouldn't. "I don't know what you're talking about," He said defiantly.

"Uh-huh, yeah, sure," She said with an eye roll. She pushed off the wall and further into the alley where he was; In the improved lighting, he noticed she was carrying her bat. He didn't remember her bringing it with her. Maybe it wasn't actually hers. It might've been the homeowner's. She pointed the tip to the ground and eyed him with something like anticipation. "Mind if I join you?" She asked.

Kel blinked. Um, what? "I, uh, still don't know what you're talki -"

"Can I tell you something, Kel?" She interrupted. She changed focus from him to the fallen and dented bins on the ground, and shifted her hold on the bat to two hands. The hair on Kel's neck stood on end at the intensity in her eyes. She took a deep breath, and said, "I really hate this town."

And then she swung.

The sound of her bat bashing against metal stabbed his ears and brought his headache back tenfold, but like before, the sight of the destruction brought such a deep satisfaction it almost left him breathless. Cathartic, that's what it was. She brought her bat down again and again and again, over and over and over, and each swing got his blood pumping and his heart racing. He felt himself grin, and couldn't resist the temptation to join in.

He'd kick a can onto its side and then kick it over to Aubrey, who'd be tense and waiting to strike it hard down the alley. A particularly stubborn can would refuse to dent under his weight and she would nudge him out the way and go to town on the poor object. The party was gone completely from their minds as they set their sights on complete devastation. They laughed, breathless and crazed and high on adrenaline.

Their mayhem didn't go unnoticed for long. A window of the neighboring house opened, and someone yelled out, "What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Kel only had a second to panic about the consequences before Aubrey grabbed his hand and took off running. He nearly fell over himself, but quickly found his footing and ran right beside her. He could run faster than her if he wanted to, but he didn't want to. He wanted to run with her. He didn't particularly care where they were running to - as long as it was with her.

They were still laughing as they ran.

#my writing #omori #kel omori #omori kel #aubrey omori #omori aubrey #kelbrey

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notkageyamasprincess · 4 years ago

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grocery shopping | miya atsumu x reader

request: Grocery shopping with Atsumu. You tell him to pick up some stuffs from the dairy counter(like cheese, milk, etc) but when you see him walking towards you, all he is holding is Family pack Ice creams in different flavours.💕😂 "But they were looking at me like 'pick us up', and so I did🥺", he explains. @nkogneatho

notes: hi dear, sorry this took so long, i was going to write headcannons or a drabble at most and then all sorts of funny ideas started popping up in my head. i included your req ofc but it’s not the main focus if that’s okay.

characters: pro vb player!miya atsumu x f!reader

genre/warnings: mostly crack tbh, fluff, very chaotic, y/n thinks she’s getting kidnapped and freaks, they take a ride on a grocery cart, y/n accidentally finds out her boss is a sugar mommy?,tsumu is a sweet boyfie

words: 1.5k

summary: you take atsumu with you on a shopping trip. chaos ensues.

It probably would have been a smarter choice to pick a day when the supermarket was less busy, but the fridge was almost empty and in dire need of replenishing. Today marks Day 3 of you and Atsumu’s new diet, one that he needs since he’s starting an intense conditioning regimen. You decided to participate as well in order to support him, and to get into the habit of eating healthier yourself.

You leave Atsumu’s side to take a basket, but he beats you to it, wheeling out a shopping cart instead. You tilt your head in puzzlement. “Atsumu, we’re not going to buy that much food, we’ll never finish it all.” He takes your wrist in one hand and starts steering the cart with the other. “You’ll see”

You stop at the fresh produce section, tossing an assortment of fruit and veggies in your trolley as Atsumu perks up beside you, getting an idea. “____, let’s get steak today so I can cook for you.” You raise an eyebrow, skeptical of his abilities. And for good reason. “‘Tsumu, you tried to make me breakfast two weeks ago and I don’t think those eggs were even edible.” He puts a hand on his hip and fakes a pout. “Babe, have some faith in me. ‘Samu might be the chef of the family, but trust me on this, I promise I’m not going to poison you.” Despite still being slightly suspicious, you decide not to question him.

You grab a few salad kits for good measure then pull out your phone to tick off your grocery list. “Bread, check, energy bars, check, produce, check, salad mix, check…okay, I think all that’s left is meat and dairy, let’s go get your steak.” You glance up when he didn’t answer. “‘Tsumu?” Your boyfriend has disappeared and so has the grocery cart.

You look for him in the meat aisle. Nothing. You look in the next aisle. Nothing. You’re about to send him a text when you suddenly feel a pair of hands seize you by waist, taking you away from the secure ground beneath your feet. Your life flashes before your eyes. Headlines of “Missing person, last seen at XX Mart” fills your mind. No way is this happening right now. I am NOT getting abducted in broad daylight, in the middle of a crowded grocery store! I have to get help; I can’t go down without a fight.

You yelp while struggling in the hold of your attacker, furiously kicking at empty space. You see an old woman a little farther down the aisle. There’s hope. “Help! Somebod- ” you shriek in panic before a hand comes up to muffle your words. “____! Chill out, it’s me!” You still at the sound of your boyfriend. Too late. The elderly woman approaches you, swinging her cane and nearly whacks Atsumu in the shoulder. “Ma’am, ma’am! This is a misunderstanding, I’m her boyfriend,” he explains, fending her off. She slowly withdraws her cane and stares at you. “Is that true?” You meet her eyes, then mumble an affirmation, ducking your head shamefully. “Young women nowadays… back in my youth, I never would have dared to cause such a scene,” she tsks, glaring at you disapprovingly before she walks away. Oops.

Atsumu sets you down, eyeing you with furrowed brows. “____. Bro, what the fuck?” You can only smile sheepishly. “Sorry that I freaked out on you. I thought I was about to fall victim to human trafficking. But you know how scared I get when my mom sends me articles about girls getting kidnapped,” you point out, attempting to defend yourself. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I told you before, nothing will happen when you’re with me. Did you forget who you were? You’re ____, Miya Atsumu’s girl, and no one gets to mess with you.”

You instantly soften at his words but puff your cheeks out afterwards. “Hmph, well something could have happened just now, and it’d be all your fault for leaving me,” you accuse, pretending to sulk. He gestures at the security cameras. “There are cameras everywhere, not to mention this whole place is crawling with people. Besides, even if something were to happen, I would come for you. No one can touch Miya Atsumu’s girlfriend and get away with it.” He taps the handle of the cart. “Anyways, get in. This is why I insisted on taking this thing.”

“ You’re not serious. We’re too old for this, we can’t be doing things like riding shopping carts,” you reasoned. He rolls his eyes. “Bullshit, me and ‘Samu used to do this a lot and still do sometimes. And don’t lie to me, I know you want to, so get in before people come into aisle.” You bite your lip. He was right, so you don’t protest when he picks you up again and places you inside with your legs over the front. “Hold on tight.”

He puts one foot on the metal bar and pushes off the ground with the other, then hops on, propelling you forward, riding off the momentum. You clutch at the sides of the cart, feeling the air whip at your face, wind running through your hair. The two of you laugh in glee like children.

All was well until a woman’s back comes into view. Your eyes widen. “Baby, stop, we’re going to hit her!” He curses and immediately steps down, reducing the speed until the wheels squeak to a stop, just in time. You turn towards him to scold him. “I knew this was a bad idea; that was so dangerous! We could have hit this lady or even gotten hurt ourselves trying to avoid her!”

“Very fortunate that you didn’t, Miss ____,” says a voice. A very familiar voice. You twist your body back around, looking directly into the stern eyes of your manager. You take a moment, becoming conscious of your current state: hair disheveled, clothes in disarray, legs dangling over the edge of a shopping cart to top it all off. Is there a worse way to encounter your boss outside of work? You hastily straighten up. Well, straighten up the best you could in the situation. You smile nervously. “Ms. Wright! Wow, hi! What a coincidence seeing you here!” You notice a young man standing beside her. “Oh, I didn’t know you had a son. He’s really handsome, you must be proud,” you added. She purses her lips, clearly displeased. “Actually, Miss ____, he’s not my son, he’s my boyfriend. We have a busy agenda today. If there’s nothing else, I’ll see you at work on Monday.”

Your face turns white as you process what just happened. The atmosphere is silent. Atsumu starts to push the cart, waiting until you make it to another aisle before bursting into laughter. “Miya! That was so not funny. I can’t believe that happened. First, she sees me in this state. Then, I mistake her boyfriend for her son? I even called him handsome! Oh my god, it’s really over for me.”

“Calm down, she said to see you at work, it’s fine. Plus, it’s not your fault you didn’t know she was a cougar. That sugar baby must be living the lif- ” You gasp and reach up to cover his mouth before he says anything else. “Shush, Atsumu! What if she’s still around? Yeah, I’m definitely going to see her on Monday…so she can fire me!” you groan. “Just get me out of this stupid cart so we can finish buying what we need, I just want to go home so I can curl up and scream into the blankets.” He smirks. “Oh, you want to scream in bed? No problem, leave that to me.” You slap his arm, and he feigns hurt.

While at the cash register, you realize that you forgot a few items. “Shit, ‘Tsumu, I forgot the butter and yoghurt. Can you quickly go grab those?” He nods. “Wait here, I’ll be fast.” A couple minutes pass and you grow worried, watching the employee scan the last of your groceries.

You finally see your boyfriend return with his arms full. Except, what he’s carrying are massive pints of ice cream. You cross your arms. “Atsumu. What did I just say? This doesn’t look like butter and yoghurt.”

He peers at you with puppy eyes. “Babe, you can’t blame me. They were calling out to me and begging to be picked up! Besides, I got both your favourite flavour and mine. We need this for movie night.”

“What about the diet?”

“It’s not a big deal. Also, you seem like you need this after what happened. And I feel like I might have been responsible for some of it. Just a bit.”

You sigh and pay for the ice cream. He’s got a point. Guess you’ll have to make another trip to the store tomorrow.

a/n: actually this is the first time i’m writing a crack fic, but i have crack hcs in my wips if anyone is curious! i’m not even sure if this is funny or nah lmaoo please let me know

#miya atsumu #haikyuu #miya atsumu x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu crack #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq fluff #hq crack #hq imagines #miya atsumu fluff #miya atsumu crack #hq!!#atsumu #jia writes

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korpuskat · 4 years ago

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Kinktober Day 7 - Seared Cinnamon - [Dabi/Reader]

[Ao3 Mirror] Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1,815 Summary: You're much too wasted to be doing this, but when else will you have the chance to get Dabi and his stupidly hot, pierced dick? Alternate ending to Cinnamon Burn. Contains: Dubcon (technically); Rough sex, Accidental quirk usage, Dick piercings

=====

It’s not fair, you shouldn’t be coming undone with hardly any alcohol in your head while he’s practically unwavering. It’s hard to coordinate your hand worming between your bodies, even harder to remember how to undo his belt while his teeth scrape along your pulse. The click of metal is all you need to hear before you’re ripping at his jeans, ignoring the throaty laugh and the taunting “Can’t wait?” that rolls off his lips with far too much ease. You want to shut him up. Make him moan just like you, come undone with your touch--

and as your fingers slide under the elastic, your mind halts. The first touch of your fingertips makes his cock throb, warm and hard- this is actually happening. Beneath the soft fabric of his boxers you stroke him, just to feel his weight.

And as your thumb slides down the thick, pulsing vein of the underside, cool metal greets you. Thicker than his staples and rounded, but there's no change in the texture of his skin with it. Your brow furrows, the Fireball fighting for control as you back up just enough to look between your bodies again. Dabi grins, leans back on his elbows while you struggle to peel his pants down- down to reveal high arches of burned scars along his hips and the cold silver staples that border them. Pushing his boxers away you finally realize what you felt. The damaged skin comes right up to the base of his dick- the last inch of his shaft half-covered in the dark brown-purple scars- leaves his happy trail bisected, an asymmetrical tuft of red hair decorating the deep V of his abdomen. You struggle to file away red hair into your brain for later, because you can't focus on that right now, now while you're staring down his cock lined with six pairs of beads.

"Fuck," is all you can manage, running your knuckles on the thin skin that covers the barbells, feel the metal just below the surface.

"What, never seen a pierced cock?" Dabi teases, loose and easy.

You shake your head- and it makes your world twist unpleasantly, whirl around like a globe as you waver. He seems to know you've become unsteady, because his hands land on your hips and tug at your pants. He's too drunk- too wasted to begin to even try to unbutton your pants with any sort of intelligence, resorting to tugging at the fabric until he gets lucky. You can only cling to his shoulders as he pushes your pants down until they fall on their own, but you have to lay down to try to kick them off your ankles along with your shoes. They all fall together in one heap as Dabi leans over you. His hot mouth finds your throat, leaves drunken, messy attempts at kisses below your ear, over your pulse, the divot and knobs of your collarbones- and his hand dives into your underwear without preamble.

"You're so wet, doll." He says- and only when he tries to recover into something suave do you place his initial reaction as something akin to shock. "Been waiting for me?"

"Yes," You're gasping, pushing one hand into his wiry, black hair, keeping him close as he moves down as much as he can with your shirt's collar still blocking your chest. Dabi bites down just below your collarbone, sucks hard on the skin there- Fireball keeps the pain at bay, leaving you only with the sensation of Dabi's hot, wet tongue squirming against your skin, his double vertical piercings massaging at your flesh, and the outlines of his perfect teeth pushing their ridges in deep.

The alcohol has stolen the expertise from his fingers, but they're still nimble enough, stroking over your slit with long strokes until he zeroes in on your clit. The first touch makes your thighs quake- and Dabi drops his weight down on one leg, pins it to the bed to keep them spread.

"Please," You tug at the collar of his jacket, "Please, fuck me."

Morning-you might be mortified, but for now your pleading had Dabi moaning, finally releasing your abused skin as he pulls back just enough to wrap one hand around your neck. There's no real threat, but the act alone has your pussy quivering. His tongue slides against his scarred lower lip, "Say it again."

"Don't tease me..." You whine, thrust your hips up against the pads of his fingers, now held still between your legs.

His fingers flex, the first pressure against the veins in your throat. "Then say it again."

At least the whiskey makes it easy to look past your humiliation. "Please, Dabi," You pause, bite your lip just to watch his eyes flit to your mouth. "Fuck me."

That has Dabi groaning, his hands scrambling over you as he struggles to pull you onto your belly. You're both too drunk, not quite in control of your limbs, Dabi almost falling onto you too many times while he's pushing your face down into his pillows, lifting your hips up where he wants them. He keeps one hand at your waist to steady himself, his knees spread wide, bracketing yours just to keep himself upright.

He mutters something to himself, too low for your ears to make out- too far out of your range of vision to keep your focus on him- until something slides between your legs, rubs up and down over your wet slit, nudges the underside of your clit before sliding back up to your entrance. A complaint about his teasing rises again- and he presses into you. It'll hurt tomorrow, you're sure- he hadn't fingered you at all, even with as slick as you feel and the Fireball dulling any pain, all you can focus on is how snug a fit it is.

And it is snug. The thick head of his cock splits you open, makes your legs tremble- until the first set of barbell beads slip in. They're cool compared to his overly warm skin, and they're so firm compared to the subtle give of his cock. They leave no room for question, force your soft walls to conform to their shape, drag definite ridges along that sensitive front wall. Row after row pop in, leave you drooling against the cotton of his sheets as he pries you open.

Dabi groans, leans over you- his coat draping along your sides as his chest lays over your back. "You're so tight," words lost as he breaks off into a moan, his hips barely stuttering inside you.

His dick has knocked the words right out of you, each tiny, testing movement has your nails biting into his bedding, voice broken off into unintelligible Nnngh.

It must be enough, because the hand not at your hip wraps around your throat again. He pulls, makes you bend back to meet him as his lips grace your ears. Alcohol was enough to make your head spin, the added hypoxia from the choking makes your eyes roll- and Dabi huffs a laugh, airy and cocky and laced with something too close to a threat: "Oh, baby doll, I'm gonna fuck you senseless."

He doesn't even give you a chance to reply- pushes your face back down into the bed. All his testing thrusts give way to one too-fast withdrawal. You hiss at the pain, still a bit too tight, but his piercings make your pussy sing, make your walls ripple with them- and he slams his hips back into yours. He dives in too deep, smashes against your cervix and fuck you'll ache tomorrow, but for now it's just pressure, just him fucking you. It's slow and hard, faltering as his struggles to keep control over the alcohol in his blood, pounding into you.

Every motion demands every ounce of your attention, your mind too awash to focus on anything except the rhythmic slap of his balls against your clit, the wet squelch of your pussy and the deep, animalistic growling as Dabi pounds into you. Your knees give out, slide further down the bed, too out of control for you to be able to lift them again- and Dabi wouldn't wait for you even if you could figure out why he's completely on top of you now. Fingers twist into your hair, wrenches your head to the side with too much force. The first real edge of pain inches into your consciousness- and it's burned out just as fast, Dabi's mouth burning, steaming as he catches your earlobe with his lips.

One good thrust and you're done for. You think you're speaking, some noise you can't quite place ringing in your ears, but if anything besides a garbled mess makes it last your throat, you aren't sure. Dabi, however, moans right against your ear just as you tip over the edge. "Fuck, you feel so fucking good-" and you're clamping down on him, keening as his piercings keep rubbing your walls just right, the unending piston of his hips drags your pleasure out on and on until you're squirming beneath him, desperate just to catch your breath-

and any control he'd been holding onto is lost. His hands- hot, too hot- catch your hips and they tingle, ache under his touch for reasons you're too sex drunk to consider. With you pliant, boneless, inebriated below him, Dabi uses you; thrusting so hard it actually cracks that barrier of alcohol in your brain, makes something behind your belly button ache as he rams against the last part of you that won't open up for his cock. It only makes the high sweeter, makes your clit tingle again- until Dabi's nails are biting into your hips and his palms hurt- the room flashes blue and you're hissing, a heatwave makes your back sweat- and Dabi is cumming with a shout, floods your insides with heat.

He falls back on his heels, the room filled with his panting and your soft whimpers. The skin at your hips stings against the cool air, but you can't find the energy to move at all. Dabi can, though. His fingers touch your thighs, a few inches below what you are finally suspecting is a perfectly palm-shaped burn. Dabi curses under his breath before dropping onto his back beside you, one arm draped over his forehead. "Lost control. Too much Fireball." He mutters, and it's as close to an apology as you'll get.

"S'alright," Your tongue sticks to your mouth as your slur the word out. It takes way too much effort just to lift your head enough to look at him, to let him see the sly grin at your lips. "Thought it was hot."

He glares at you, but his own exhaustion takes all the heat from it, makes you laugh easily- even as that makes your belly ache.

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If you like my writing, please consider reblogging or leaving me a tip!

#Dabi #Dabi x reader #Bnha #kat talks #tumblr is broken and wont let the readmore work on pc haha functional site!#kinktober #kinktober 2020

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sunsetcurbed · 4 years ago

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avatar julie born to earthbending master ray molina and firebender rose molina who has to take down caleb who has invented a new form of bending called soul bending to form an army to become ruler

he comes to power in the years following her mom’s death and she really doesn’t want to follow her destiny because like... her duty as an avatar is to the people (and the innocent souls caleb is stealing) but isn’t her duty as a daughter to mourn?

but then she meets three boys crashing in her garage who are on the run because they heard about caleb and he’s looking for powerful benders and surprise: they’re powerful benders. they all met at a gifted academy when they were younger and luke reconnected with reggie when he ran away from home and they went to find alex when they heard about caleb.

so julie is inspired by them and bends for the first time since her mom died the next morning, and even creates a flame-- her mother’s element. she asks the boys to teach her their elements-- luke first because she needs to learn fire, then air, then water.

flynn, a nonbender, finds places for them to practice since julie still isn’t sixteen and therefore hasn’t been revealed to the world as the avatar. she tracks caleb’s moves and researches everything she can on soulbending even though it turns out to be a dead end because like... there’s spiritbending that was developed centuries ago during avatar korra’s time, but no one has ever heard of soulbending

and so they begin and luke realizes how much of a powerhouse julie is and he’s not sure why he’s surprised-- she’s the fucking avatar?? but it’s still incredible to witness and he’s amazed by her and he’s in awe

and while julie is learning firebending and eventually airbending, alex is out and gets flattened by some guy on an airscooter. which like. great. cool. he spills his entire flask of hip water due to this and airscooter starts calling him hippie which is annoying but like, he lets him get away with it because he’s cute and funny and really nice apart from the whole running him over thing

they have fun together and willie takes him flying and they scream in the sky until they get bugs in their mouth and alex feels tension release in his shoulders. willie talks to him about his life and alex feels tension release in his forehead. willie makes him laugh and alex feels tension release in his chest.

but then-- after a few months alex lets it slip that he’s powerful and on the run from the bender named caleb but he’s helping the avatar so they can hopefully defeat him and

and

“we never should have met.”

“wow. that hurts.”

and alex doesn’t see him again for days. weeks. months.

julie masters firebending, shakily masters airbending-- her opposite element--, and then when she gets a decent grasp on waterbending, luke, reggie, and alex meet a man downtown who bumps into them and apologizes by shaking their hands. he introduces himself as caleb and they all have a delayed moment of realization. well, fuck.

they don’t think anything has happened until they get back to julie a few hours later and feel a jolt. it’s just the first of many. julie starts to truly, truly panic and flynn jumps into double research mode, but it’s fruitless. it’s not until willie pops up that anything starts to make sense.

“i’ve been with caleb since i was twelve. i was among the first. he wanted power and i was a powerful kid and he wanted me as an asset he could shape. that means i’ve grown up with him and i’ve got some inside information.”

he manipulates souls until they match his, but souls don’t match consciousness. so he can manipulate a person’s essence to do as he wishes, but not their thinking. there’s a disconnect between soul and spirit and mind. so they learn that the soul is the driver, the spirit is the entity, and the mind is the being. and caleb has control of the driving force. caleb has control of hundreds of drivers, if not thousands of drivers.

the jolts are the soul being twisted unnaturally, going against how it should be. caleb put the process in motion by bending the top of the soul, and the rest follows. it takes a few months for the process to be complete.

caleb is a waterbender, a soulbending is a substyle of waterbending. which... julie has not mastered yet. and with the guys getting these jolts, she... doesn’t have a lot of time.

so they double down and alex fights through the jolts and julie puts all of her focus into waterbending.

the issue still remains though that... even once she masters waterbending, she doesn’t have a clue how to soulbend, or reverse caleb’s soulbending, or it it’s possible, or how to defeat him.

(she goes into the spirit world and aang shows her energy bending so she figures out how to stop him, but no one, and she means no one, in the hundreds, thousands, of her past incarnations know about soulbending.)

the jolts get worse and worse until the boys are all but saying their good byes because they feel the pull-- caleb had already pulled them once to get them to join his uprising against a small city in the firenation. they stand in the same place they first met almost two years ago, all of them crying because they don’t know what to do-- and luke tells julie that no fire burns as bright as the one that their group has. julie hugs him and thinks “don’t go, don’t leave me, stay, i love you, i need you”

she visualizes something orange in her mind, tainted by something purple, and the purple feels wrong, so she bends the purple out, and luke sags into her arms, letting out a long breath. she’s not sure how she knows, but she knows she did it. immediately, she turns to alex and reggie and does the same.

which like. that’s great but now they don’t know how to find caleb.

another month passes before willie comes looking for them again and julie immediately frees him again and his reaction is so much more severe than the guys because his soul was twisted for so much longer but with it restored to normal he’s able to lead them to caleb. only thing is, there’s also an army who is forced to obey caleb and like. fuck.

but! julie’s the avatar! and she’s in danger! so she goes into the avatar state and is able to remove caleb’s “stamp” on everyone’s souls at once and caleb is like oh fuck and then she energybends his bending away and!!!!! yay!!

also juke and willex bc how could you not

#juke #willex #my writing #i don't know if i'm going to write this because i don't know how i feel about inserting white characters into a 'verse with canonically-#-no white characters #or even characters of a different like latin@ in place of asian #like even modernized i'd still feel pretty shitty doing that #so this might just remain a #not fic #i'm really not sure #if someone who is BIPOC wants to weigh in i'd appreciate it

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calumance · 4 years ago

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we focus a lot on mama reader but i was wondering if we could focus on dad cal for a little, maybe he’s been seeing a bunch of hate towards the band lately and he’s sad and aiden and logan try to cheer him up with mama cause they love him so much and he’s a superhero to them🥺

Yaaassss, little babies telling their daddy that he’s their superhero. 😭😭😭😭

It wasn’t often that Calum got like this, but when he did, the energy in the house was weird. Multiple days in a row now has he woken up, gone into his studio and locked the door without a single word being said. Then energy in the house was dark, and Aiden and Logan could feel it too. “What’s wrong with dad?” Aiden asked while slowly picking at the pancakes you had prepared for him.

A sigh fell from your chest as you shrugged and plopped some pancakes on Logan’s plate. “I’m not sure, he hasn’t really talked to me, and the door’s locked. I’ll try to talk to him today.” You reassured Aiden with a smile, a fake smile, but a smile. Aiden just nodded, leaving the conversation to end there.

After the kids were done with breakfast and had dispersed back into their rooms to find something to occupy their day, you stood at the end of the hallway and stared at the studio door. Thoughts raced through your head about what he could possibly be doing in there. The only time he ever came out was to use the bathroom and to go to sleep. Silently, you walked toward the door. Once you were at the door you pressed your ear against it and listened to any noise on the other side. It was silent and your heart strings tugged a little more.

You hesitated while you gripped the handle and turned it to see if it was unlocked. To your surprise, it was. So, you twisted it the rest of the way and slowly pushed open the door. When the door opened fully, you found Calum sitting at his computer, headphones on, his hair pushed up and out of his face. His eyes were focused hard on the screen, but the circle under his eyes told you that he barely slept last night. Calum barely noticed your presence until you shut the door. It wasn’t until then that he turned toward you and slowly took his headphones off. “Hey, baby.” You cooed as you walked over to him, running a hand along his shoulder blades as you sat in his lap.

His hands lazily wrapped around your thighs, but his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck. He didn’t say anything for a while, just sat there breathing into your skin. You ran your fingers through his hair, making sure to drag your fingernails over his scalp. He hummed at the felling and you pressed a kiss to the top of his head. As much as you wanted to ask him what was bothering him so much, you also knew that he would tell you if he wanted you to know. “I just keep seeing a lot of negativity towards the band lately. I’m sorry, baby, I don’t mean to take it out on you.” He mumbled into your skin.

You nod against him, understanding and accepting his apology. “It’s okay, what can I do to make you feel better?” You ask into his hair, still stroking his scalp. He shrugs and pulls you closer, letting your skin press against his. He sits there silently for a while, before you hear Logan and Aiden fighting. Calum let’s go of you and stays seated while you walk out of the room, closing the door behind you.

After you break up the fight, thoughts surround your head on how to make Calum feel better. The thoughts suddenly halt when you hear a little voice from behind you, “Mama?” You spin around to be greeted by Logan standing a few feet behind you, sadness in his eyes, “Is daddy okay? He hasn’t played with me in a few days.” Logan nervously plays with his fingers and shifts his feet.

Your heart melts as you make your way towards Logan and pick him up, setting him on your hip. Logan dips his head and lays it on your shoulder. “He’ll be okay, I’m sorry he hasn’t played with you in a few days,” you coo as your rake your fingers through Logan’s hair. Suddenly, a thought pops into your head. The one thing that always gets Calum feeling better are his kids, “What do you say we put a little something together that would make daddy feel better?” Logan lifts his head from your shoulder and nods furiously. You smile at Logan and head into Aiden’s room to start brain storming.

A trip to Target and a lot of giggles and staging later, you, Logan and Aiden stand outside the studio door, ready to give Calum his surprise. You put your finger over your lips to tell the boys to quiet down before opening the door. Once you open the door, you find Calum in the same position as earlier. His headphones over his ears, hair pushed up and out of his face, eyes transfixed on the computer in front of him. He catches sight of you from the corner of his eye and slowly takes his headphones off. “The boys and I got you’re a surprise, but you have to come with me to see the surprise.”

Logan pushed his way past you and runs up to Calum, placing his hands on Calum’s leg while bouncing excitedly, “Come on, daddy! We got you a surprise!” Calum smiles down at his son and runs his fingers through his hair. With a nod, Calum stands and takes Logan’s hand and Logan pulls him down the hallway. Behind them, you hold onto Aiden’s hand and squeeze while Aiden looks up at you with a reassuring smile.

Logan leads Calum into the living room where he is met with a basket full of snacks and a super man t-shirt. Logan climbs onto the barstool and Aiden stands in front of you. You watch as Calum’s eyebrows stitch together in confusion as he holds up the t-shirt. “Mama said you’ve been down lately because people have been saying not-so-nice things about you and your music. So we got you a superman shirt so your know that you’re our superhero, and we love you no matter what.” Aiden says as you run your fingers through his thick curls.

Calum’s lip form into a smile as the tears build on the rim of his eyes. He chuckles and holds the t-shirt to his chest, “Thank you, baby,” Calum pulls Aiden into him, wrapping his arm around his shoulders, still clutching the t-shirt to his chest. Aiden locks himself around Calum’s legs as Calum motions for Logan. Instead of letting Logan jump off by himself, you pick him up and pass him over to Calum. Calum kisses Logan’s cheek and hugs him close before setting him on the floor and neatly placing the t-shirt back into the basket.

Logan and Aiden begin to pull Calum back into the living room where there are more surprises waiting for him. Somehow you manage to grab Calum for half a second and pull him towards you. You kiss his cheek and whisper, “I have my own surprise for you later,” before he is pulled away from you by the kids. A smirk sits on Calum’s lips as he is dragged away from you by Aiden and Logan, the look on his face telling you that he couldn’t understand how he was lucky enough to get a family like this.

************

Tag list: @mantlereid @notinthesameguey @viiirg0 @wheniminouterspace @thinkofmehlgh @another-lonely-heart @limer-encia @itsmytimetoodream @babyoria @treatallwithkindness @karajaynetoday @talkfastromance4

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imissjoongsmullet · 5 years ago

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Too Far and Upside Down

Pairing: Bang Chan x reader

Genre: smut

Summary: The third part in my Too Far series (though you don’t have to have read the other parts to enjoy this). Bang Chan has been dominating you in the bedroom for far too long. It’s time he finds out what it feels like.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 4

Part 5

Warnings: sub Chan, dom reader, graphic sexual content (duh), swearing, fuck buddies, crotchless panties, handcuffs, slight mention of daddy kink and just lots and lots of teasing

Word Count: 3.5K

Author’s Note: yes, tis me again with more filty Bang Chan smut! I’m still planning to write 1 or 2 more parts for this series, though I don’t know how fast I’ll be able to finish them since my new job is really taking up all my energy atm... but gosh dang this boy does things to me. I’m the subbiest sub in sub town but I would love to put this bitch in his place just once, ya know? Anyways, enjoy the smut babies ♡ ♡ ♡

►

You're on a plush bed, lying belly pressed into the soft, white sheets. The breeze of the air-conditioner makes you shiver a little because of what little clothing you're wearing. You'd bought this particular set just yesterday; baby pink and lacy, because he'd mentioned those were his favorite kind. They're dainty, feigning innocence, but the way they sit on your body — just right on your breasts, your ass on full display, not to mention they're crotchless — reveals their true purpose.

You reach for the remote and turn off the air conditioner before resuming what you had been doing for the past twenty minutes: scrolling aimlessly through your phone.

He was supposed to be here half an hour ago and you haven't heard from him at all; not even a text. You’d thought about leaving but that would mean you'd have to pay for the room and there is no way in hell you are going to do that so, your frustration growing, you refresh your social media for the hundredth time.

Why does he think it’s okay to keep you waiting like this anyways? As if you have nothing better to do. Just because your little arrangement is of a casual nature doesn't mean he can treat you like a cheap whore. The more you think about it, the more you find yourself unwilling to be his little plaything for the evening. Yes, you adore the feeling of him all over you, pushing you to your limits, making you beg for him to fuck you until you can't stand on your own legs. But you know he loves it just as much to see you like that, to control you. That’s why tonight, you will refuse to give him what he wants. Tonight, you want to turn the tables on him.

The door creaks open and his voice fills the hotel room.

"Sorry I'm late, shoot took longer than expected," he says casually, closing the door behind him and taking off his jacket, "and then traffic, you know how it— wait, where are you?"

You enjoy the tone of confusion in his voice as he scans the room.

"Over here, idiot," you say with a sly smile.

He twists around to face you and stares, lips parting. His eyes travel over your body like lost puppies, not quite knowing where to focus first; your eyes that challenge his; your lips, so plump and juicy; your collarbones, ready to be marked by his teeth; your boobs, cupped perfectly in soft pink; your waist that still bares his marks from a previous night; or the space between your legs that’s barely covered by that same soft pink, virtually begging to be touched?

You saunter over to him, a coy smile playing at your lips. The familiar scent of his cologne flutters over you as you come to a halt in front of him.

"I've been waiting for you." Your finger links into his belt buckle, pulling a little. "I wanna give you something."

He still looks dazed at the way you’re standing there; so provocative, so confident. He swallows audibly, which you take as your cue to continue.

"Wanna know what it is?" you ask, looking up at him with a teasing grin. Still holding onto his belt buckle, you start to push him backwards towards the bed.

"Hey now, baby girl, what do you think you're doing?" he chuckles, finally snapping out of it, taking your hand.

You douse your face in sweetness as you look up at him and reply, "just giving my daddy what he deserves.”

"Daddy?" he raises an eyebrow at the new title. His tongue runs over his bottom lip as his hands reach out to take your waist.

You can’t allow him to take control though, so you quickly place your hand against his chest and walk him further to the bed. He looks a bit surprised but drops his hands nevertheless. It's clear he's excited to get whatever treatment he thinks he's about to get. He's eying you with half suspicion, half exhilaration as you push him down onto the mattress and crawl on top of him.

"Baby," he speaks up but you interject, leaning down and kissing him, soft and smooth. His hands are immediately on you again, squeezing into your ass a few times before one slides up to your waist. You move your own hand over his, linking your fingers together as you deepen the kiss. Your tongue slips past his lips while you bring his hand up above his head. He suckles your tongue for a bit before his own comes out to play. You moan into his mouth just as you sneak his wrist into the cuffs and click them shut.

He lets out a stifled groan and pulls away from you perplexedly, pulling at the cuff that now has him chained to the headboard.

"What the hell is this?" he mutters.

"It's what you deserve," you answer plainly as you bring up his other wrist and, before the initial shock can leave him, cuff it to the headboard just like the first one, “you shouldn’t have kept me waiting.”

You sit back and smile smugly at what you've done. You have him right where you want him and he does not look happy about it.

"What do you think you're doing?" he demands, the last of his amusement fading out of him as he tries and fails to push up from the bed.

"Shh," you coo, coming to lean over him again, "don’t sulk," you say, the words doused in glee, "you might even get to enjoy this," you press you lips to his swiftly, "if you're good."

His eyes widen as you start to slide down his body leisurely, letting your nails tickle him on the way until they arrive at his belt. You look up at him, sickeningly sweet, finding him staring back with an intensity you haven't seen of him before. It's a different sort of intensity you can't quite place, somewhere between anger and lust, though the tent in his pants is undoubtedly clear in telling you how he’s feeling.

Still smiling, you undo his belt but as you're about to pop the button of his pants, an idea trickles into your head and you decide to pause.

Gently, you place the palm of your hand against the outline of his erection and press down, just enough to send a first, tiny ripple of pleasure through his system but not enough to satisfy. The eyes that were so focused on what you were doing fall shut for a moment and he heaves a deep breath. When he opens them again they're filled with fire.

"You cunt," he curses, shaking his head at how you're still smiling innocently up at him.

"What, you want more?" you say, wrapping your fingers around his clothed dick and squeezing ever so softly.

"Fuck off," he bites back, straining against the cuffs. He bucks his hips upwards but you won't have that.

You remove your hand.

"I guess you don't want me to make you feel good then," you say, faking disappointment as you raise yourself up on the bed on your knees. You look down at him, letting your hand come up to fumble your breast.

“You know, I can get off all by myself." Your fingers slip past the fabric of your bra to squeeze the real thing. You find your nipple and pinch, humming softly to yourself but the quiet is broken by a loud creak and clank. He's pulling at the cuffs and trying to get up again.

"I don't think that'll work," you murmur as your free hand joins the other. You squeeze your breasts together for him, smiling a little when he swallows again, his struggles growing more and more confused. He’s tugging at the cuffs weakly but his eyes are gradually going blank. One hand leaves your breasts and travels down over your belly, painstakingly slow. It tickles the skin right above the lace of your panties, dipping a finger in gingerly. Your eyes flicker down your body before looking back at him. The stray finger comes back out your panties and instead, your hand moves down between your legs, parting the slip in the fabric that fails to cover your pussy.

The creaking noises stop all together for a moment as he falls still and watches with obsession in his eyes how your fingers show him exactly what he’s missing out on.

You’re surprised at how wet you already are. You run your finger along your folds gently, trying to drag the whole thing out for as long as you can. Torturing Christopher Bang is the main focus of tonight, after all. You move a little closer to him so your parted legs hover teasingly over his belly, giving him the perfect view. He can see everything as you play with yourself and you can’t help but start to lose yourself a little in the tingling sensations starting to rush through you. The way he’s staring at you — like you’re a straight-up goddess, like he’d cut off his right arm only to touch you for a moment — and the way he’s completely helpless to do anything about his urges, are a beautiful sight to behold. Knowing Chan though, it’s only a matter of time before he snaps again.

“Fuck!” his voice breaks the silence. He raises himself up as far as his cuffs let him, shaking his head as if he were waking up from a dream. When his eyes set on you they’re clear and sharp, and he looks about ready to Hulk his way out of his constraints and make you pay for what you’ve done.

“You better let me the fuck out of here if you know what’s good for you.”

His harsh words send a chill down your spine but you refuse to let him see that. You ignore him completely and slip a finger inside yourself.

“You know what happens when you don’t listen to me, girl,” he threatens, still pulling at the restraints, refusing to lie back down.

You bite your lip as you curl your finger up, finding that spot that sets you off on the path of sin. With a slight moan, you add another finger and start grinding, keeping your pace slow and sensual.

“Fuck,” he curses again, eyes darting to the place between your legs, “you really want my punishment that bad, huh?”

You look down at him through hooded eyes. “That’s not what this is about.”

It’s really not. He has had the upper hand during your little sexcapades for a long time now and you don’t want him to think that, just because he dominates you in the sheets, he’s in any way superior to you. You might just be a casual sex partner, but you still deserve to be treated with respect. You want to show him you’re not the type of girl that can be messed with, not the type of girl to just follow and listen to wathever he says.

Besides, you were finding that holding the reins over him was actually pretty fun.

“This is about you learning how to treat a lady right,” you say as you continue to fuck yourself on your fingers.

He looks insulted. “I don’t treat you right?” he scoffs.

“Shut up,” you reply coldly, promptly removing your fingers and plopping yourself down onto the bulge in his pants.

He lets out a pained gasp and his eyes go wide as pennies.

As you start to lean over him once more, your core pressing into his erection, he recommences his struggling, trying to shimmy you off. He’s strong but, thanks to the cuffs restricting his movement, your hips manage to keep him locked.

“You wanna be set free?” you whisper to him as you roll your hips onto him, coating his jeans in your wetness, “you’re going to have to listen to me.”

“That’s not how this works!” he grunts, shuffling underneath you, still attempting to throw you off.

It's not easy to hold your balance because he's stupidly strong but you don't give up easily. You grab a fistful of his hair, keeping him still as you lean down to his ear and whisper, “Shhh, baby boy,”

He does not like that. He thrashes desperately under you but you yank at his hair, forcing him to a stop. Before he can do anything else, you slide down his body and finally undo his pants, catching him off guard. You pull back the edge of his underwear, revealing his tip, leaking with precum. The sudden attention has shut him up, it seems, because now he’s back to gawking at what you’re doing. You tug the fabric about halfway down his length when you suddenly let go and it snaps hard against his dick, eliciting another groan from him.

“Fuck, I’m gonna kill you when I get out of here,” he says darkly, head falling back into the pillow.

You ignore him and pull off his underwear entirely, leaving him naked aside from the T-shirt he’s still wearing. Something about that makes him look more helpless. You like it; you like the look of his dick standing proud just underneath the hem of the shirt.

You want to wrap your lips around him but know that would be giving him too much. Instead, you move your attention to his thighs. You squeeze into them as you get comfortable between his legs. You look up once to find him holding his breath. His cock is so ready to be touched, reddened and hard. You give him one more coy look, darting out your tongue a little. But no matter how delicious his cock would be, it is his thighs you lick.

You hear his breathing deepen as you make your way towards his center, always avoiding those places you know he’ll enjoy too much. You’re waiting for a response. You know it won’t be easy because he’s a proud man but you’re not about to back down either. Your nails tickle his upper legs as your tongue licks its way between them. When you find a particular sweet spot you press your lips against the skin before giving it a little bite. When he finally lets out the moan he’s clearly been holding you raise your head to look at him.

“You like that?” you say, a sly smile creeping onto your face.

He refuses to respond, of course, so you go back and nibble at a different place on his inner thigh. He moans again and tries to kick his leg out from under you but your full weight in on him so you manage to keep him in place. You hear him mutter something under his breath that sounds like bitch and can’t help but grin wider.

“I know I’m being a little harsh on you, baby, but you deserve it."

Before he can reply you bite into his thigh, drawing another involuntary moan from him. He never sounds like this when he's fucking you. He’s so soft, so needy and it turns you on beyond belief. You don't even realize your fingers have found their way to his balls. They caress so lightly but it's enough to make his dick twitch and pulse. He's rock hard and by the look of him he's losing it. His eyes are shut tight and he's biting his lips, clearly trying to stop from letting out any more embarrassing noises. You're almost there. You lick your way towards his center so slowly that when your wet tongue comes into contact with his balls at last, he lets out a whine that could put even you to shame.

"Stop," his breathy voice calls and you raise your head to look at him.

He's flushed red and his chest is rising and falling rapidly.

"What's that?" you reply casually.

He doesn't have it in him to struggle any more. "Touch me properly,"

"What do you mean?"

"Fuck," he moans, head falling back into the pillow, "just get me off already."

You consider him for a moment, all the while your fingers never leave his balls. They graze his skin so lightly, barely there, but Chan keeps whimpering under their touch despite himself.

"Yeah, I don't think so."

"Please," his answer comes immediately and he hates himself for it. He looks up at you in desperation. He's shiny with sweat and so filled with want he looks ready to spill over any moment.

"Please just— just touch me."

Mercy starts tickling your brain but then you remember the way he treats you in bed and you decide to play with him just a moment longer.

"Why?" The question is more a demand than anything.

"Because I need— I need you."

"Me?" You act surprised as you start applying a bit more pressure on his balls, making his dick twitch and drawing a sharp gasp from him.

"Yes, you," he breathes, "you're so annoying but you're really fucking hot and I need you to get me off, please just touch me."

"I like that word," you say as your free hand comes up to run softly over his nipple, "I wanna hear it again."

"Wha— ?" he breathes, face all pout and confusion.

You chuckle, "the magic word."

His head falls back again when you tweak his nipple, the added pleasure too much for him.

"Please," he groans, eyes screwed shut.

You take your hands off of him completely and sit back. "Louder."

"Please," he repeats, opening his eyes in shock at the lack of touch and trying to get up, yearning to get closer to you. He looks at your hands, the hands that were pleasuring him and now are not, desperation pouring out from him.

"Please!" he whines.

You smile at him triumphantly.

"Good boy."

Finally, you break the chains of your own restraints and take hold of his leaking cock. The thing is hot and stiff and veiny underneath your hand and you are so glad you decided to give in. It would have been the ultimate power-move to just leave him hanging but, seeing how horny you'd gotten yourself, there was no feasible way you could actually go through with that.

The groan that escapes his lips upon contact is guttural and lewd as fuck and it makes you want to sit on his dick more than you ever have before. You stroke him slowly a couple of times but speed up quickly when you see what it does to him. He's a complete mess under you, letting out sounds of pleasure unlike anything you’ve heard from him. He’s calling your name in whimpers, helplessly gasping for air. He's gorgeous and he's all yours. You come to hover over him as you continue to jerk him off.

"You like this, baby?" you ask and your other hand comes to grab his chin, forcing him to look you in the eyes.

"Yes," he pants, his breath hot on your lips, "yes, please, yes."

His aching pleas are music to your ears and you find yourself growing weak for him.

"What do you want, baby?" you ask.

He answers without missing a beat.

"Please, ride me, fuck, please!"

And that's it; you can't say no to him. Without wasting another second, your entrance finds his tip and you drop yourself down until you're sitting on him, his hard cock buried deep within you.

This time you both cry out. You know at once what's happening: he's exploding inside of you. He's moaning your name erratically and despite being completely overwhelmed by the fill of him, you start moving up and down, adding to his orgasm.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he slurs as the pleasure overcomes him and he spasms under you.

You ride him out until he falls still at last, looking like a hot mess.

Gazing down at the rare sight, you can’t believe what you’ve just done. Pride fills you, watching the rising and falling of his sweat stained chest and the way his eyes are still shut in post-orgasm bliss. You slowly rise and he groans again as his dick slides out of you.

“I’m gonna kill you,” he mumbles wearily, his eyes still pressed shut.

You can’t help but smile at him. Grabbing the keys from the nightstand drawer, you lean over and start unchaining him. His arms fall limp to the mattress and he starts to stir slightly. Once he’s freed, you slide down beside him, realizing at once how worn out you are as well. Taking control in the bedroom is tiring, you note, and close your eyes for a second.

“You don’t think I’m going to let you get away with this, do you?” his cold voice speaks directly into your ear.

Your eyes snap open and before you can do anything at all, he’s crawled on top of you, all traces of exhaustion vanished from his face.

“You thought you could fuck with me like this and not get punished?” He lets out a dark little snicker as his hand wraps around your throat and squeezes.

“Baby girl.” Two fingers move up and force their way deep into your mouth. “You’re in big trouble now.”

#bang chan #stray kids #smut #bang chan smut #sub bang chan #sub!bang chan #bang chan x reader #stray kids smut #chris bang #christopher bang #mr bang

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ambientstars · 5 years ago

Note

A little ambitious, but could we pleeease get 33 from the prompt list with 13 AND w!master? ✨

I love a challenge so thank you for this request! “kiss me.” ““What?” “Just kiss me.”

Gif credit: @twelvethirteens

Note: I got a little carried away with this one, I hope you don’t mind? Also I’m sorry for the sloppiness towards the end, but ya girl just loses focus sometimes 🤷🏻‍♀️

- - -

Your hands were slammed into the pillow above your head, her fingers laced with yours. Quiet moans slipped easily from your throat, her lips on the underside of your jaw encouraging you.

Your legs wrapped themselves around her hips, your pelvises pressed together. Her hands were warm, one placing itself firmly in your hair to keep you still, the other roaming freely across your skin, skimming over the goosebumps and igniting a fire in their wake.

In the pit of your stomach, a butterfly spread its wings and fluttered around frantically, growing as desperate for escape as you were becoming for release.

The Master raised her head, her eyes dark with mischief and her lips pinker than usual from the tender assault on your neck. “You wait right here, I’ll be back in a moment.”

She leant back down to capture you in a kiss so deep, so scorching, it almost made you see stars. With your face flushed bright red and your eyes half closed, you allowed her to untangle herself from you and stand from the bed.

She looked down at you, a smirk displayed proudly on her flawless face at seeing the effect she had on you. “Don’t move. Have you got that, love?”

You nodded and gave a lazy smile, your fingers clutching the sheets beneath you in anticipation of the wait.

The Master would often get you hot and bothered, worked up beyond belief, and then leave you on your own whilst she busied herself with something else, all for her own enjoyment of seeing just how long you could last before begging her to come back and finish what she started.

She loved it when you begged, the desperate pleas were like music to her ears. She adored the way you’d grab onto her clothes and hold her close like your life depended on it, your body practically vibrating against her own. The satisfaction of controlling everything you felt and when you were allowed to feel it gave her the biggest thrill of it all, using her words and her actions to manipulate you in ways that made you melt in her arms.

Time passed as slowly as it always did when you found yourself in this situation, the minutes turned into hours, your muscles aching in hunger for touch, head dizzy with thoughts of possibilities.

Eventually it all became too much and you couldn’t stay in your place any longer, your feet carrying you down long twisting corridors in search of The Master.

You were good for The Master, almost always doing as you were told even if it took a little more encouragement sometimes, your whole being desperate for her praise.

But you were human after all and sometimes that meant you were disobedient and too curious for your own good. You often found yourself in trouble and received punishment for it, but despite how frustrated The Master would get with you, deep down she enjoyed having someone around with a fiery spark to keep things interesting.

That’s not to say you weren’t predictable, of course you were, to her anyway. She would know your next moves before you even thought of them, her brilliant mind always one step ahead. She got a kick out of having full control over you and giving you a sense of freedom even though there was none.

You reached a room, one you’d never been in before. It was different to the rest of The Master’s TARDIS, more whimsical and less lavish. It crossed your mind that perhaps the ship had built a new room and wanted to show you, proud of her efforts, but the thought was brief and not very detailed.

The Master popped her head out from the other side of the console, a brow raised as if she was confused. “Hello?”

You bounded forward, buzzing with energy, determined to feel her skin on yours again. You vaguely noticed that her outfit was different, something blue and loose replacing the suit, her hair straight and her height lowered a fraction due to the lack of heels, but in your need, you brushed that all away.

“Kiss me.” You pleaded, grabbing ahold of her coat and pulling her toward.

“What?”

“Just kiss me.” You yanked her into a kiss that made her stumble back a little in surprise. Not like The Master at all, but your judgement was clouded by relief.

After a moment, she relaxed into the kiss, her hands sliding around your waist and pulling you in closer. Your hands found their way to her hair, brushing past her ear and feeling a chain that definitely wasn’t there earlier.

You pressed yourself against her as much as you could, your lungs screaming for air and your mind burning with sensation. The blonde picked you up and carefully placed you on the edge of the console, spreading your legs so that she could stand between them.

“Excuse me.”

You broke away from the blazing kiss in fright, your heart pounding for a new reason. You looked over The Master’s shoulder to see… The Master?

You looked between them breathlessly, confusion setting in. “What?”

The woman between your legs stepped away with just as much bewilderment on her own face. Her face that looked identical to The Master’s, with more of a natural look adorning it.

“Do you mind not making out with my pet, Doctor.” The Master came forward from the doorway she was standing in, her lips pulled up into a playful smirk.

“Your what?”

“My pet.” She clarified, standing beside you and moving a strand of hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear.

You didn’t move, didn’t speak, too astonished by what was happening right in front of your eyes. You were half convinced that this was all a dream, a scenario made up in your own head by your feelings for The Master. Two of them in the same place, both of them wanting you? Definitely a dream.

The other blonde frowned, her soft lips in a tight line. You got the feeling that they knew each other well, a history between them albeit not a positive one. They seemed to speak without words, their eyes conveying everything they wanted to say to each other.

You noted a spark of jealousy in your stomach as you watched them, wanting nothing more than to have a connection with The Master like that, having her speak directly into your mind and your delicate human form being able to accept it and reply.

“Can someone please tell me what’s going on?” You asked, slipping off from the console and standing between the identical women.

“This is The Doctor, an old friend of mine.” The Master began to explain, moving her attention over to you. “I wanted to try an experiment, for fun.”

“Experiment?”

“I fixed the doorway of the bedroom to be a teleport so that you’d walk right into The Doctor’s TARDIS. I wanted to see what would happen if you saw someone who looked like me, but wasn't.” She shrugged, speaking with a nonchalance that made your spine tingle. “And I wanted to see what The Doctor would do with a stranger on her ship without any knowledge of how they got there, being thought of as me.”

The Doctor scowled, her eyes turning darker than before. “I never want to be thought of as you.”

The Master laughed lightly. “And yet, you were.”

You blushed, embarrassed that you had kissed a stranger and enjoyed it too. You tried to reason with yourself that you didn’t know she wasn’t The Master and your actions were justified, but that didn’t stop the uncomfortable feeling in your chest.

“Let me tell you both, I was thoroughly entertained. I had thought there would be some conversation, a little plan of action and possibly a hint of sexual tension, but oh my!” She placed her hand on your shoulder roughly, her face lit up with excitement. “And you, Doctor! I’ve never seen you like that before, so wild and hungry, so careless as to who this person was.”

The Doctor looked at her feet, shuffling them nervously. She turned to you slightly. “I’m sorry.”

You mumbled a me too and bit your lip, ashamed.

“Come on, love, let’s go.”

The Master took hold of your hand and pulled you into her side. You didn’t fight, resting your head on her shoulder and completely submitting to her, just like always.

“See you around, Doctor.” She saluted her could-be-twin. “We should do this again sometime.”

You didn’t dare look up at the stranger you had just been attached at the lips to, opting to stay quiet rather than face her and feel another rush of embarrassment.

- -

“Please don’t be mad.” Your voice was small, barely above a whisper.

“Mad?” The Master closed the door behind you as you entered the bedroom once more, pushing your back into the wall beside it. “I’m proud of you.”

You’d experienced a lot of confusion as far, but this took the prize. “You are?”

The Master leant down to continue her work from earlier, a purple bruise forming on the side of your neck. “You did exactly as I wanted you to.”

Your eyes fell closed, your head resting on the wall behind you. You held onto her shoulders as anchor to keep you grounded, your body relaxing so much you couldn’t stand up straight. “I did?”

She lifted you from the floor and took you back over to the bed. She hovered above you, smiling warmly. “You showed me how much you want me, how much you need me, and even though subconsciously you knew that wasn’t me, just seeing my face on her was enough to stop you questioning and submit to me.”

The Master had always had an odd way of going about things and this was just another thing to add to the mix. She could’ve just asked you, it wasn’t a secret, but you were too pleased and ultimately relieved that she wasn’t mad, you didn’t speak up about it any more.

She lifted up your shirt a little to reveal your stomach, planting soft kisses there, her hands on your hips. “You’re such a good pet, I think it’s time we finish what we started. Would you like that, love?”

You needed eagerly and relaxed into the mattress beneath, finally getting what you had wanted all along.

#13th doctor #doctor who imagine #dw imagine #jodie whittaker #thirteeth doctor #whittaker!master #master x reader #whittaker!master x reader #doctor x master #13 x reader

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spiderman-homecomeme · 5 years ago

Text

day three - the social activist and the arachnid

FAIRY-TALE RETELLING

A/N: DAY THREE IS HERE!! This fic is based on the popular fairy tale “the Frog Prince”/”the Princess and the Frog.” I have been so excited for this one guys. UNBELIEVABLY EXCITED!!!

So excited, that my note here is incredibly short!!

Thanks @spideychelleweek for organizing this!!

Enjoy 5.4k of dumbassery, mischief, depictions of spiders, superscript font, and Peter Parker sad-eyes

Read here or on AO3

The hero sits perched atop a light post, his wide mechanical eyes scanning the peaceful park below him. It’s been hours of waiting and watching (and of stomach-grumbles, a punishment for skipping the lunch his wonderful girlfriend had made for the both of them) and still—nothing.

No sign yet.

Spider-Man replays the video footage Mr. Stark sent him; a tall figure, dressed in a fine black suit, an emerald green scarf, and a grey coat, smiling mysteriously as he bends to pet a small terrier, skipping rocks on the nearby pond, reading quietly on a bench under the canopy of a large, looming tree. Spidey keeps thinking that there’s some detail that he’s missed, some clue he’s clumsily overlooked. Cursing mentally, he swings to another post, hoping to get a better view of the park… when he sees it.

The flash of dark green wool.

Finally.

He acts quickly, nearly missing the clear shot to the next light pole in his excitement as he flies over. Getting closer, he sees the figure—the figure in question being the elusive God of Mischief himself, Loki—standing there, tossing out food to the ducks gathering around him; apparently just minding his own business, so much so that it gives Peter pause when he goes to confront the god.

Or, maybe, Peter wonders, eyes narrowing, that’s just what Loki wants it to look like.

Peter jumps down behind him.

“You know you shouldn’t feed them bread,” Spider-Man says, leaning casually against a light post. “It’s basically junk food for them.”

“Oh, this isn’t bread,” Loki answers smoothly. He doesn’t even look up from the overly excited ducks. “It’s Asgardian barley.” Ha informs before tossing another handful of said barley at his feet. The ducks scramble over to him, quarrelling loudly over every grain. Two small, fat drakes begin to fight aggressively, quacking and pecking at the other until the darker colored fowl body slams the other into a tree.

The tree promptly falls over from the force. Loki turns. “And you are?”

“Sp-Spider-Man. Obviously.”

Loki tilts his head as if he doesn’t recognize the name, as if the very thought of it confuses him.

“And you’re Loki.”

“Indeed I am.”

A beat passes.

“So…” Peter motions behind him before standing up straighter, arms folding across his chest. “I’m taking you in.”

Loki glances up. His full attention now seems focused on the hero. A light, yet warning laugh escapes him. “Are you now?”

Peter clicks his web shooters. “C’mon, man, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

Loki takes a step, turning to face him fully. “I prefer it hard.”

Peter can’t help but think of how proud MJ would be of him for not giggling at that, though there’s nothing he can do to fight the way his mouth cracks into a grin underneath his mask. He just won’t tell her about that part.

Immediately, Peter tries to web Loki, but the god’s quicker. Loki phases away, the ducks disappearing with him, his entire presence revealed to be an illusion the entire time. Peter curses, mentally kicking himself for falling for one of that guy’s oldest tricks.

Swinging himself to another high point, Peter once again scans the entire park.

Where did that jerk run off to?

Thankfully, it doesn’t take long before he finds Loki again—hopefully the real one this time—buying two ice cream cones at a lone stand. It’s strange for two reasons. One, being that it’s mid-October, so ice cream isn’t really a hot commodity right now; and two, it almost seems as though Loki’s not even trying to hide from him.

Or, again, perhaps that’s what he wants Spider-Man to think?

Peter shakes his head in an attempt to wipe his etch-a-sketch of a brain. He has a job here, he couldn’t get himself psyched-out. He needs to focus. Without giving himself any more time to actually think about what’s happening, he drops down on the ground, hands placed firmly on his hips. “How did you get ice cream?”

Loki doesn’t answer, instead holding the second cone out as he takes a bite of the first one. “One for you. Raisin Rum—or is it Rum Raisin?” He shrugs. “Mmm… my favorite. Most seem to hate it or ignore it but I find it's strange complexities…” He smiles wistfully at the cone. “Familiar—”

Peter webs the ice cream right out of the god’s hands.

At first, Loki barely reacts, expression blank as he stares at his cone now covered in dirt and pebbles. The god sighs, shoulders tensing as his mouth twists into a frustrated scowl.

But then... he starts to laugh, shaking his head, covering his face.

Peter lets out an uncomfortable, awkward chuckle in an attempt to find the humor in all of this.

Suddenly, Loki looks up, laughter continuing as he shoots a stinging green spark from up his sleeve.

Peter’s tingle kicks in, and he’s able to dodge the first shot, and the second, and the third, trying to web the trickster with each graceful dive out of the way. The god’s use of magic is relentless, and it keeps Peter webbing whatever Loki throws at him instead of Loki himself.

After web-throwing the second park bench in a row, Peter turns, dodging yet another spark. “What are you even—WHOA!” He shouts above the fighting while jumping over a large boulder being hurdled right at him. “What are you even doing here anyway?”

“I enjoy a good park,” Loki says while throwing a newspaper stand. “It helps me relax. It’s been a terribly long day—Then again…” His voice slows, trailing off. “It could have been a week, or maybe a year. What is the date, do you know?” He pauses a moment and stares hollowly.

Peter uses this pause to blast another web at him.

But Loki seems to slide out of the way, shaking off the melancholy with another mysterious smirk. “This has been a pleasure, but,” Loki side-steps another web. “I’d like to get back to feeding the ducks, if you don’t mind.”

“I do mind!” Peter shouts back, swinging up to the top of the ice cream stand. “Besides... Where did you even get Asgardian barley? Didn’t you and Thor destroy it? And—” He stops, head tilting, eyes narrowing in thought, and he can see by the way Loki tenses that he’s hit a nerve. He keeps going. “Wait you aren’t even from there, right? Aren’t you like… an—an... ice? giant, or something? ”

Loki stops moving instantly, smile morphing into a sinister snarl.

Before Peter can even think up a Frozen joke (he knows there’s something about Elsa and cold and snowmen in there), Loki casts a large blob of green energy right at him.

He leaps into the air in an attempt to dodge the strange mass, but it follows, trailing after him no matter how much he turns and twists. “What even is this?” Peter shouts as he makes an arching swing up and away from the now fuming god. He takes a chance and glances over at the trickster; and that’s when he’s struck by two things.

The first; that Loki no longer seems to be genuinely enjoying their battle.

And the second?

Well…

The second is the green blob.

Wait! Got it!

“Hey, Elsa, just Let it Go —”

Before he can even be the slightest bit disappointed in himself for that low-hanging-fruit of a joke, he feels a stinging warmth, the world around him going a blinding shade of white. The feeling lasts only a second, followed by a loud pop . Suddenly, he’s plummeting to the ground below. He tries to click at his webshooters, but he finds that he can’t move his arms. He tries to jump, but he can no longer feel his legs. He braces himself, ready for a crash, when he lands gently on the soft dirt below.

Something feels… off.

He tries to get up, standing on shaky legs, though he finds that he’s still incredibly close to the ground. But… Instead of the normal two legs he usually has, he feels eight. He can see everything around him without turning his head, as if there’s eyes all over. Panic starts to set in, and he scrambles to a puddle to look at his reflection.

Eight buggy eyes stare back at him. His once baby-faced—well… face —is no longer human, now covered in tiny, pointy red and blue hairs. At the sight of himself, he lets out the tiniest, quietest scream—one that immediately reminds him of that part in The Emperor's New Groove where Yzma turns into a cat—octaves and leaps above his normal speaking tone as he jumps away.

“There!” Loki brushes his hands together, clearly satisfied with himself.

“ᵂᴴᴬᵀ ᴰᴵᴰ ʸᴼᵁ ᴰᴼ ᵀᴼ ᴹᴱˀˀ” Tiny, spider-Peter demands. He coughs, clearing his throat, an almost whiny noise. “ᴵˢ ᵀᴴᴬᵀ ᴹʸ ⱽᴼᴵᶜᴱˀˀ”

“I think your name is much more fitting now. Wouldn’t you agree?” Loki asks as a smirk returns to his face.

“ᶜᴴᴬᴺᴳᴱ—ᶜᴴᴬᴺᴳᴱ ᴹᴱ ᴮᴬᶜᴷᵎᵎ” Little Peter growls in his new chipmunk voice.

“Oh, I’m afraid it isn’t that easy, my little spider friend,” Loki says with a faux-disappointed shake of his head.

“ᵂᴴᴬᵀ ᵀᴴᴱ ᴴᴱᴸᴸ ᴵˢ ᵀᴴᴬᵀ ˢᵁᴾᴾᴼˢᴱᴰ ᵀᴼ ᴹᴱᴬᴺˀˀ”

But Loki doesn’t say anything else. He vanishes with a sneaky grin, leaving Peter in a cloud of dramatic green smoke.

“ʸᴼᵁ’ᴸᴸ ᴮᴱ ˢᴼᴿᴿʸ ʸᴼᵁ ᵀᵂᴼ⁻ᶠᴬᶜᴱᴰ ˢᴼᴺ ᴼᶠ ᴬ—” Peter’s vow of vengeance is cut short as he starts to have a crisis, of course. Anyone would if they were suddenly turned into an actual, honest-to-god spider. He has absolutely no idea what he’s going to do, or how long this is supposed to last.

He stays in the park for God knows how much longer.

He feels lost and utterly alone.

What did Loki mean? How is Peter supposed to change back? What is it going to take? An epic journey? Is it on some kind of timer? Does he need to get some ingredients together for a magic potion and then drink it?

His head swims, nearly drowning at every little possibility.

It’s overwhelming, truly. Everything around him is a million times bigger than it normally is. What if someone steps on him? What if someone captures him? What if a little kid finds him and picks him up and takes him home? Is he doomed to be someone’s house pet the rest of his sad life? Could he even survive life as a spider? He wasn’t about to start eating bugs, not today!

Truly, he has no absolutely no clue where to ever start. He stands in the park for what feels like a whole eternity. If he had teeth, they’d probably be chattering right about now.

But then, there’s a glimmer of hope. It starts in the back of his mind, and he’s surprised he didn’t just think of it sooner. He thinks of the one place, the one person that might be able to help him.

And happens to be the one place that’s close to this park.

His wonderful, patient, hilarious-in-kind-of-a-dark-way genius girlfriend. If anyone would know what to do, or at least have a vague inclination of an idea, it’d be MJ.

So, he starts his journey, which proves to be significantly harder when he can’t just swing there. Sure, he’s got eight legs now instead of two, but he’s a lot smaller than he normally is. It takes time to cover the amount of ground it takes to get to MJ’s apartment.

Just walking across the park has already taken over half-an-hour.

But dammit, he’s going to try. That’s not going to stop him.

It ends up taking him the entire afternoon and early evening to get there. An entire afternoon of dodging much larger humans, dogs and cats, and not to mention other spiders. His tiny heart fillsfilled with tiny relief when he comes upon the large brick building. It takes him even longer to climb up to her sixth-floor window, and then to just find his way in without opposable thumbs.

Luckily, MJ’s cracked her window, and though that’d normally be strange for the time of year, Peter doesn’t question it. In fact, it’s perfectly normal for her. He crawls in, his excitement getting the best of him as he notices MJ in her bed, snuggled under a blanket as she reads a book.

Perfect.

He has to get to her somehow, to let her know what’s going on. She’ll know what to do.

All he has to do is figure out how to get her attention.

He makes his way to the ceiling above the window, watching her from above and across the room. He tries to call out to her, but his voice is too high and too quiet for her to hear him from so far away.

It’s the slightest bit discouraging; he’s going to have to find another way. Then, inspiration strikes him, and he eagerly starts climbing the wall. He’s done this before, as normal, human-sized Spider-Man.

Just drop down, say hi, she helps him figure shit out. It’s perfect!

What could possibly go wrong?

But perhaps he’s too eager as he races across the ceiling as fast as his eight little legs can carry him.

Maybe if he had waited, he would’ve been able to see that this wasn’t the best way to go about getting her attention. To him, there just isn’t time for something like rational thought and common sense. Instead, he just goes for it, not stopping to think if this was a good idea before lowering himself down on a single, fine thread.

MJ likes spiders—and not just the Peter variety —he reasons. He’s seen her oo and aw over the little guys and gals that find themselves in her path. If she sees one in her room, she always scoops it out with a cup, humanely putting it back outside into its natural habitat.

She loves spiders!

Sure, why would she be the kind of person that freaks out when one just shows up right in front of her face?

Finally, he manages to lower himself to her level, making his eyes as big and as round as possible, before clearing his throat.

She still doesn’t seem to hear.

He swings forward a bit, hoping that he can just… brush her nose with his front two feet.

His two front feet touch the very tip of her nose for a split-second and—in an instant—she looks up, eyes going wide as she jumps with a start. Letting out a high-pitched, squeamish yelp, she smacks him with her book.

She doesn’t hear his tiny, baby-ish scream as he’s hurled across the room.

He scrambles away, hiding behind her bookcase as she leaps from her bed, yanking the covers off of her. She shudders, shaking her head as she takes a moment to look around the room, running her hands roughly over her hair and face, checking for more creepy crawlies.

His heart—now in his gut—pumps erratically as he waits for her next move. A moment passes before she leaves, her book in hand, inadvertently slamming the door behind her as she rushes out. He waits another moment before moving again, going to the top corner of her room, diagonally across from her bed, so he can be just visible.

Well, that didn’t go well at all.

He starts pacing along the ceiling, and he wonders if he should even try anything else at this point or just wait it out.

Or… spend the rest of his life as a spider.

Find that kid in the street who’s always had a weird love for bugs. Go home with them. Live the life of a pet arachnid.

He’s almost accepted that fate when… another golden idea strikes him.

He starts the long process of making a web, something that surprisingly comes natural to him in this form. This is something he’s done miiiiillions of times before, but like, a thousand percent bigger. It’s just… tiny now.

And the webs come out of his butt instead of one of the webshooters on his wrists.

But it’s essentially the same thing, right?

He jumps from between the two walls and ceiling, hastily putting together something he can rest on. When he’s done, he makes a large M, followed by an even larger, a little bit more janky, J.

It worked for Charlotte, so why wouldn’t it work for him?

It seems like a solid form of communication between spider and human.

What seems to be hours after the sun has set, he finally finishes. Crawling to the middle of the ceiling to get a good view of his handy work, he sighs, thinking how Charlotte made it so easy—and she was writing more than two letters—before really taking it in. With frustration, he realizes that even he can’t read it. The silk is much too thin—nothing like his synthetic webbing—and he can only see the beginnings of the makings of letters—and that’s only if he can get in the right light.

There was no way MJ—the human here—would be able to see it.

Nerves set in once again when he realizes that he’ll just have to try talking to her again.

It’s the only way.

And so he waits; waits on her bedside table, behind the framed picture of them from a school dance last year.

He’s there. Watching. Waiting to strike, his little legs curled up in anticipation.

It feels like it’s almost been another hour before he hears the gentle click of her bedroom door again. She sneaks in, a blanket preemptively wrapped around her shoulders, and glances warily around the room, as anyone would do after seeing a spider so suddenly.

With another shudder, she scurries over to her window, shutting it, before plopping down onto her bed, sitting back against the pillows as she pulls her book out from under her blanket-cape.

He waits a few minutes, giving her a chance to relax again, before he strikes.

“ᴹᴶ.” He whispers, voice high and whiny, jumping out from behind the picture before retreating back in.

Once again, she doesn’t hear him.

He’ll have to do better than that.

“ᴹᴶᵎ” He says a little louder, hiding behind his front two legs.

Knowing he has to get just the tiniest bit closer, he crawls up onto her pillow, just behind her head, and tries again. “ᴹᴶᵎ!” he shouts as best he can.

This time she perks up, brows scrunched together as she lowers the book into her lap. She pauses, listening, before sitting back against her pillow, Peter almost falling off of it at the movement.

He takes a deep breath in, steeling himself as he lets out the loudest one yet, right in her ear. “ᴹᴶᵎᵎᵎᵎᵎ”

She glances behind her to the source of the sound, jumping and shrieking again when she sees him. But this time, she’s more prepared. She grabs a plastic cup from her dresser, ready to catch him.

He’s fast, but not fast enough as he scrambles up her desk, and she catches him without much struggle.

“HA!” MJ shouts. “Gotcha!”

“ᴹᴶᵎ ᴹᴶᵎ ᴹᴶᵎ ᴵᵀ'ˢ ᴹᴱᵎᵎ” He screams as she lowers herself to his level. “ᴵᵀ'ˢ ᴾᴱᵀᴱᴿᵎᵎ”

She freezes, eyes widening as she looks at her catch. “...Peter?”

“ʸᴱˢᵎᵎ ᴵᵀ'ˢ ᴹᴱᵎ ᴵ'ᴹ ᴾᴱᵀᴱᴿᵎ ʸᴼᵁᴿ ᴮᴼʸᶠᴿᴵᴱᴺᴰᵎᵎ ᵀᴴᴱ ᴸᴼⱽᴱ ᴼᶠ ʸᴼᵁᴿ ᴸᴵᶠᴱ ᴾᴸᴱᴬˢᴱᴰᴼᴺ'ᵀᴴᵁᴿᵀᴹᴱᵎᵎ ”

And for a beat, she can only stare at him, mouth hanging open in confusion. She rubs at her eyes, perhaps wondering if she’s dreaming. “What—what happened to you?” She asks incredulously, though she keeps her hand on top of the cup.

“ᴸᴼᴷᴵ ᴴᴬᴾᴾᴱᴺᴱᴰᵎ” Peter whines, warbling voice echoing in his plastic prison. “ᴴᴱ ᵀᵁᴿᴺᴱᴰ ᴹᴱ ᴵᴺᵀᴼ ᴬ ˢᴾᴵᴰᴱᴿᵎ”

“I can see that.” She replies, eyes wide as she cautiously lifts the cup from around him, putting it aside as she kneels to his height. Her brow pinches together as she stares at him, the corner of her lip pulled back in what he’s pretty sure is a form of mild disgust.

“ᴾˡᵉᵃˢᵉ ʰᵉˡᵖ.” Peter begs, all eight eyes wide and sad and—if they could be—full of tears.

MJ jerks her head back, still maintaining some form of distance. “Well… What do you want me to do?”

“ʸᴼᵁ'ᴿᴱ ˢᴹᴬᴿᵀᵎ” Peter reasons, legs tapping sporadically as he moves closer to the edge of the desk, following her. “ᴵ'ᴹ ᴬ ᴰᵁᴹᴮᴬˢˢ. ᶜᴼᴹᴱ ᴼᴺ, ʸᴼᵁ ᴷᴺᴼᵂ ᵀᴴᴱ ᴰᴿᴵᴸᴸ.”

MJ stares blankly at him, thoroughly unimpressed. “You’ve gotta have some idea, man.”

“ᴹᵃʸᵇᵉ…” Peter wonders aloud. “ᴴᴹᴹ... ᴺᴼ... ᵀᴴᴬᵀ ᵂᴼᵁᴸᴰ ᴺᴱⱽᴱᴿ ᵂᴼᴿᴷ... ᴰᴬᴹᴺ ᴵᵀ, ᴸᴼᴷᴵᵎᵎ”

It’s then he notices the upward quirk of MJ’s lips, the way she presses them together, the slight tremor as if holding back a loud laugh.

“ᵂᴴᴬᵀˀ” He demands, his little spider eyes narrowing up at her.

“Nothing!” She swears. “Nothing at all.” And for a moment, she seems to hold herself together, but another second passes, and she can’t hold it in any more. She snorts, letting out a single guffaw when he taps his foot impatiently. “Just… your voice…”

He rolls his eyes.

“It’s just… It’s ridiculous.”

“ᴹᴶ, ᴾᴸᴱᴬˢᴱ. ᵀᴴᴵˢ ᴵˢ ˢᴱᴿᴵᴼᵁˢ.”

She nods, biting back the grin with all of her might. “Oh, definitely. Yeah. Very serious. My bad.”

Peter huffs, once again starting to pace around the desk. Another bout of silence falls between them as they sit there, both of them deep in thought.

And for the third time that day, Peter is hit by another golden, shining, A+, fool-proof idea.

“ᵂᴴᴬᵀ ᴵᶠ ʸᴼᵁ ᴷᴵˢˢ ᴹᴱˀ”

At that, she blurts out in disgusted laughter, taking a solid thirty seconds to bring herself back down. “Absolutely not. No way,” she says, though it’s distorted under another bubbling laugh.

“ᵂᴴᴬᵀˀ” Peter balks, seemingly very offended that his girlfriend wouldn’t kiss him while in real-spider form. “ᵂᴴʸˀˀ”

MJ glances from side to side, as if the answer’s stupidly obvious (it is). “Um, well, for one, you’re an actual spider right now.”

If Peter could, he would absolutely be pouting. “ᴮᵁᵀ ᵂᴴᴬᵀ ᴵᶠ ᵀᴴᴬᵀ'ˢ ᵀᴴᴱ ᴼᴺᴸʸ ᵀᴴᴵᴺᴳ ᵀᴴᴬᵀ ᶜᴬᴺ ᶜᴴᴬᴺᴳᴱ ᴹᴱ ᴮᴬᶜᴷˀˀ”

“Where did you even come up with that?”

“ᵁᴴ ᴴᴱᴸᴸᴼˀ ᴱⱽᴱᴿ ˢᴱᴱᴺ ᴾᴿᴵᴺᶜᴱˢˢ ᴬᴺᴰ ᵀᴴᴱ ᶠᴿᴼᴳˀ ᵀᴴᴱ ᶠᴿᴼᴳ ᴾᴿᴵᴺᶜᴱˀ ᵀᴴᴱ ᴾᴿᴵᴺᶜᴱ ᵀᵁᴿᴺˢ ᴮᴬᶜᴷ ᵀᴼ ᴺᴼᴿᴹᴬᴸ ᶠᴿᴼᴹ ᴬ ᵀᴿᵁᴱ ᴸᴼⱽᴱ'ˢ ᴷᴵˢˢᵎ ᴵᵀ'ˢ ˢᴵᴹᴾᴸᴱᵎ”

“Peter, that’s just a dumb story.”

"ʸᴼᵁ ᴺᴱⱽᴱᴿ ᴷᴺᴼᵂᵎ"

“Or, I could just throw you against the wall like the princess does in the Grimm version.”

"ᴹᴶ, ᴾᴸᴱᴬˢᴱ ᴶᵁˢᵀ—"

“That’s so gross. And stupid.” MJ sits there, her tone incredulous as she has to explain to her boyfriend why she won’t kiss a spider. “I’m sure there’s another, more realistic way. Like… I don’t know… finding Loki again and having him reverse it?”

"ᴴᴱ ˢᴬᴵᴰ ᴵᵀ ᵂᴬˢᴺ'ᵀ ᵀᴴᴬᵀ ˢᴵᴹᴾᴸᴱᵎ" Peter whines. “ᴬᴺᴰ... ᴬᴺᴰ ᵀᴴᴵᴺᴷ ᴬᴮᴼᵁᵀ ᴵᵀᵎ ᴬ ᵀᴿᵁᴱ ᴸᴼⱽᴱ'ˢ ᴷᴵˢˢˀˀ ᵀᴴᴬᵀ'ˢ ˢᴼ ᴰᴿᴬᴹᴬᵀᴵᶜᵎ ᴵᵀ'ˢ ᴿᴵᴳᴴᵀ ᵁᴾ ᴸᴼᴷᴵ'ˢ ᴬᴸᴸᴱʸᵎᵎ"

She purses her lips, eyes narrowing. He has a point.

“ᴾᴸᴱᴬˢᴱ, ᴹᴶˀ ᴴᴱᴸᴾ ᴹᴱᴱᴱᴱᴱᴱ.” Peter looks up at her with pleading, big, round, eight unblinking eyes. “ᴬᵀ ᴸᴱᴬˢᵀ ᵀᴿʸᵎ ᴶᵁˢᵀ ᴵᴹᴬᴳᴵᴺᴱ ᴵ'ᴹ ˢᵀᴵᴸᴸ ʸᴼᵁᴿ ᴴᵁᴺᴷʸ, ᵂᴵᶜᴷᴱᴰᴸʸ ᴴᴬᴺᴰˢᴼᴹᴱ ᴮᴼʸᶠᴿᴵᴱᴺᴰ ᵀᴴᴬᵀ ʸᴼᵁ ᴸᴼⱽᴱ ˢᴼ ᴹᵁᶜᴴ.”

MJ groans before conceding, bracing herself. “God, you are so lucky I love your stupid ass.”

“ʸᴬʸᵎᵎᵎᵎᵎ” Little spider-Peter spins around happily, throwing two of his legs up in the air in celebration.

“If this doesn’t work, I’m flushing you down the toilet.”

A beat passes. MJ stares down at him, lips pursed as she tries to think the best way to go about this. It’s almost best to just get it done, she decides. Like a band-aid. Quick, although not necessarily painless. Letting out a shaky, nauseated breath she sinks to his level, the whole time muttering words of encouragement to herself.

Peter scrambles to the edge of the desk, closer to her, attempting to smooth out his stick-straight hair with his fourth leg.

MJ gags.

“ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵈᵒ ᶦᵗ, ᵇᵃᵇᵉᵎ” Peter cheers.

“God, shut up.”

She leans down, lips puckered, but she makes the mistake of cracking one of her eyes open before she sticks the landing. With a shudder, she shrinks away.

“ᴵ ᴮᴱᴸᴵᴱⱽᴱ ᴵᴺ ʸᴼᵁᵎ”

Again, MJ shivers in disgust. “Just one kiss, right?”

“ᴶᵁˢᵀ ᴼᴺᴱ.” Peter promises, though his tone turns alarmingly flirty. “ᵁᴺᴸᴱˢˢ ʸᴼᵁ ᴮᴱᴳ ᶠᴼᴿ ᴹᴼᴿᴱ.” He follows that comment with what she can only assume is the spider version of a playful wink.

And once again, she gags.

Peter sheepishly steps back. “ˢᴼᴿᴿʸ...”

She doesn’t even give a response as she squeezes her eyes shut, covering them with a hand just to be safe, and she lowers herself once again. Both of them hold their breath, bracing for impact. It’s almost too quick for him to notice, the pressing of her lips to his tiny, hairy, wriggly body. Jumping back the second she plants the tight-lipped kiss, she doesn’t linger at all, trying her best to hold back her dramatic retching.

Another beat passes between them.

And unsurprisingly…

It’s an empty one.

Nothing happens.

At all.

Peter is still very much a spider.

“ᴰᴬᴹᴺ, ᴵ ᴿᴱᴬᴸᴸʸ ᵀᴴᴼᵁᴳᴴᵀ ᵀᴴᴬᵀ ᵂᴼᵁᴸᴰ ᵂᴼᴿᴷ...” He curses.

“Excuse me?” MJ seethes, furiously wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “What part of that did you possibly think was gonna work?”

“ᴼᴴ, ᶜᴼᴹᴱ ᴼᴺ, ᴹᴶ,” Peter reasons, shying away from her. “ᴵᵀ ᵂᴬˢᴺ'ᵀ ᵀᴴᴬᵀ ᴮᴬᴰᵎ”

“Maybe for you!” She argues, another shudder rippling through her. “You weren’t the one that had to kiss a fucking spider!!”

“ᴼᴴ ˢᴼ ᴵ'ᴹ ᴶᵁˢᵀ ᴬ ˢᴾᴵᴰᴱᴿ ᴺᴼᵂˀᵎ”

“Yes!!” MJ shouts before bringing both hands to grab at her own hair, feeling as if she might be going crazy. “You are literally a spider right now!!”

“ʸᴼᵁ'ᴿᴱ ᴺᴼᵀ ᵀᴴᴱ ᴼᴺᴱ ᵂᴴᴼ ᴳᴼᵀ ᵀᵁᴿᴺᴱᴰ ᴵᴺᵀᴼ ᴬ ˢᴾᴵᴰᴱᴿᵎ ᴬᴺᴰ ʸᴼᵁ'ᴿᴱ ᴺᴼᵀ ᴴᴱᴸᴾᴵᴺᴳ ᵂᴵᵀᴴ ʸᴼᵁᴿ ᴬᴺᵀᴵ⁻ᴬᴿᴬᶜᴴᴺᴵᴰ ᴾᴿᴱᴶᵁᴰᴵᶜᴱˢᵎᵎ”

“Are you for real right now?” MJ deadpans at him, absolutely fuming underneath the blank expression.

Peter falters under her gaze. "...ᵁᴴ, ʸᴱᴬᴴ...ˀ" He mumbles as he looks down, sheepishly using one of his feet to draw invisible circles into the top of her desk. "ᴹᴬʸᴮᴱ... ᴹᴬʸᴮᴱ ᴵᵀ ᴰᴵᴰᴺ'ᵀ ᵂᴼᴿᴷ... ᴮᴱᶜᴬᵁˢᴱ... ᴮᴱᶜᴬᵁˢᴱ ʸᴼᵁ'ᴿᴱ ᴺᴼᵀ ᴿᴱᴬᴸᴸʸ ᴵᴺ ᴸᴼⱽᴱ ᵂᴵᵀᴴ ᴹᴱᵎᵎᵎ" He accuses.

And again, MJ only stares at him. “You’re serious?”

"ᴵ ᴰᴼᴺ'ᵀ ᴷᴺᴼᵂ, ᴹᴶ... ʸᴼᵁ ᵀᴱᴸᴸ ᴹᴱᵎ"

“That doesn’t even make any sense!!” MJ groans in exasperation, her hands covering her eyes. “God, you’re such an idiot.”

Peter gives a sassy, “ᴴᵁᴹᴾᴴᵎ” before turning around.

“Do you honestly think I don’t love you after that? Peter,” MJ reaches out, gently nudging him with her finger, turning him to face her. She holds her hand open, inviting him to crawl onto her palm. “I just kissed you. As a spider.”

Peter’s quiet for a moment, again looking down. "ʸᴼᵁ'ᴿᴱ ᴿᴵᴳᴴᵀ... ʸᴼᵁ'ᴿᴱ ᴿᴵᴳᴴᵀ..."

“I love you, you dork. Even as a creepy, gross spider.”

"ᴵ ᴸᴼⱽᴱ ʸᴼᵁ, ᵀᴼᴼ, ᴹᴶ." And if Peter could blush, he absolutely would.

“Now,” MJ starts, standing up from her place, grabbing the cup that had captured him just moments earlier. “Let’s go find Loki.”

They leave her apartment, ordering an Uber on the way out. The first place they check is the very park Loki and Peter fought in earlier, but there’s no luck there. The whole place is empty, save for the random passerby walking their dog.

The next is the Sanctum Sanctorum, hoping that maybe Dr. Strange might have a lead.

Which he doesn’t.

Though he does offer that Loki’s still in this universe, which… proves to be both helpful and not helpful.

Peter almost begins to lose hope, wondering if there’s a way he can just summon the god of Mischief, when MJ suggests they just go to the Avengers compound. If anyone can find Loki, or at least have a better lead on him, she reasons, it’s one of those guys.

MJ’s sitting in the back of the same, ever so patient Uber, Peter underneath a cup and on top of a piece of paper in her lap. She looks down at him, her gaze calculating as she examines the tiny spider. Tilting her head, her face briefly twists into a thoughtful expression. “You know,” she starts, unable to look away from his big buggy eyes and his little, fuzzy legs. “You’re kinda cute like this.”

Peter stares blankly up at her, one of his middle legs coming forward to wipe across his eyes.

“Nevermind.”

When they get to the Avengers compound, and after MJ leaves a lofty tip and an apologetic look, they go inside.

Everyone’s of course confused when MJ just walks in holding a spider in a cup, but they’re given enough time for Peter to explain the whole situation. It takes a solid minute-and-a-half for Tony to stop laughing before he calls out to FRIDAY.

“FRIDAY, can you have someone bring our friend Mr. Loki out?”

The mechanical voice promptly replies. “Yes, Mr. Stark.”

"ᵂᵃᶦᵗ ᵂᴴᴬᵀˀˀ" Peter’s shout is just barely heard, but it still gets a not-well-disguised snicker out of Tony. "ʸᴼᵁ'ᴿᴱ ᵀᴱᴸᴸᴵᴺᴳ ᴹᴱ ᴴᴱ'ˢ ᴮᴱᴱᴺ ᴴᴱᴿᴱ ᵀᴴᴱ ᵂᴴᴼᴸᴱ ᵀᴵᴹᴱˀˀ"

“Oh, yeah,” Tony says with an air of nonchalance. “Kamala brought him in. Apparently, after your little slap fight in the park, she found him in some art gallery looking sad—the usual, I guess—she convinced him to turn himself in, yada yada yada. It was all pretty simple.”

"ᴬᴺᴰ ᴺᴼ ᴼᴺᴱ ᵀᴴᴼᵁᴳᴴᵀ ᵀᴼ ᵀᴱᴸᴸ ᴹᴱˀᵎ" Peter stomps around angrily in his cup.

“Well, you’re a spider now,” Sam cuts in, shrugging. “Couldn’t use the phone.”

Peter turns around, facing his back to everyone with a scoff.

The doors whoosh open and the devil himself walks through, not even trying to hide his mischievous smirk. “Ah, Spider-Man,” He says smoothly. “Nice to see you again. Have you been having fun?”

"ʸᴼᵁ'ᴿᴱ ᴸᵁᶜᴷʸ ᴵ'ᴹ ᴵᴺ ᵀᴴᴵˢ ᶜᵁᴾ ᴿᴵᴳᴴᵀ ᴺᴼᵂᵎᵎ" Peter snaps. "ᴵ ˢᵂᴱᴬᴿ, ᵂᴴᴱᴺ ᴵ ᴳᴱᵀ ᴼᵁᵀᵀᴬ ᴴᴱᴿᴱ—"

“Please, Loki,” MJ pleads sarcastically, effectively cutting Peter’s empty threats off. “Change him back? Pete says I have some anti-arachnid prejudices, and he may be right, because I don’t really want to keep dating an actual spider.”

Tony starts laughing again, and he keeps laughing even when tiny spider-Peter shoots him a heated glare.

Loki sighs and shakes his head. “I am truly, incredibly sorry,” His expression is wrought with the deepest sympathy as he starts walking past them to look out the window. He faces away from them, eyes empty and sad as he gazes out into the inky black night. “The only thing that can reverse this spell is…” He pauses, looking back at them, brows pinched together. “Is a true love’s kiss.”

Everyone stares at him with wide eyes. The room is deathly quiet.

Peter and MJ exchange horrified glances.

But then Loki breaks, and through his intense laughter he concedes, “I’m kidding. I’m kidding. Oh, you should have seen your faces!”

Everyone seems to laugh at that as well, though some aren’t sure whether or not it was actually funny.

And then, casting a green spark at Peter, Loki turns him back into a human.

Peter’s struck by that same blinding light and tingling feeling, and with a pop, he’s back to normal, his arms wrapped around MJ’s neck as she holds him bridal style. The cup that was once containing him sits on his head for a second before tumbling to the ground. He steps down from her arms, his own hands patting his chest, his legs, his arms, his face, making sure it’s all there.

He finally smiles, surprised expression turning to one of pure excitement and relief. He turns to his wonderful, smart, genius girlfriend. “MJ! It’s me!”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh my God. I know, you loser.”

He pulls her into a strong embrace, picking her up and spinning her around. “It’s been so long,” he murmurs.

“You were a spider for ten hours.”

They both pull back, and he stares deeply into her eyes. “Ten hours too long.”

“Shut up,” she teases, shutting him up with a sound, real kiss.

When they part, there’s a thoughtful expression on her face; her brow furrowed, head titling slightly.

“What?” Peter asks.

MJ shakes her head, and her smile returns, though her eyes remain calculating. “Nothing,” she replies. “Just…” She looks at him for a little longer, affectionately running her hand over the side of his face, along his jaw, finally stopping to cup his chin.

She smiles.

“I think you had more facial hair as a spider.”

#spideychelle #spideychelleweek2k20 #petermj #peter parker #michelle jones #fic

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