#if all goes well. this weekend i will catch up on asks because i am finally free from obligations 🪽 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

toomuchracket · 8 months ago

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if you're too shy, part 2 (office nerd!matty x reader fluff)

remember those gigs you and matty got scheduled to cover in part 1? yeah. this is them. enjoy <3

“hey.”

matty's curls bounce as he looks up at you quickly. a mild sense of guilt gnaws at your ribs when you realise you've spooked him, but it dissipates when he smiles, visibly relaxing when he realises it's you breaking him from his concentration. “oh, hi. you alright?”

you nod, gesturing to the vacant desk next to his. “am i ok to sit here?”

“yeah, of course. no need to ask. here, let me,” matty slides his notebook out of your way; as you lay your laptop down and sit, you can see him biting back a beam from the corner of your eye, and your heart flutters. “was there anything you needed, or…? not that there has to be, you know,” he sits up straight, apology settling itself on that gorgeous face of his. “i didn't mean it like that, i just meant-”

“no, i know, matty,” you smile softly. “there is, incidentally, but also i just wanted to sit next to you.”

there he goes with the blushing again - honestly, you reckon you could make a fortune if you bottled and sold the colour of matty's cheeks when you fluster him. although, you suppose, maybe the colour is only appealing because of whose face it's on.

said face is grinning at you again. “well, feel free, anytime.”

“likewise.”

“i'll take you up on that,” matty's smile gets impossibly wider, before he catches himself and controls it a little. “so, what is it that you need from me?”

the sloppiest kiss known to man. “advice, actually,” you put your glasses on, preening internally at the way matty's breath catches in his throat as you do, and open spotify on your laptop. “where should i start with this band we're going to see twice this weekend?”

matty's face brightens even more - impossible, you'd have thought. “oh. well, do you know any of their stuff already?”

you shake your head. “very bad of me as a music journo, but no,” you smile cheekily. “this is my first time. need you to talk me through it.”

the way matty coughs and tries to pass it off as him clearing his throat at your words is delicious. to be fair to him, he recovers quickly, the only sign of him being flustered the way his cheeks periodically twitch into a smile and back down again. “alright, so… i think i’d probably start with their second album - can i?” at your approval, he slides your laptop closer to him and scrolls down the band’s spotify profile to find the album in question. “their first is good, yeah, but the second one is where they really start to define their musical identity…” he trails off, covering his mouth.

you blink in concern, leaning into him. “you okay, matty?”

“yeah, i just,” he sighs, then giggles into his hand. it’s maybe the best thing you’ve ever heard. “i realised i was starting to sound a bit like patrick bateman.”

“oh my god,” you snort, covering your own mouth as you laugh. “christ, you were. was this band’s early work too new-wave for your tastes and all?”

“little bit. i think their undisputed masterpiece is album two - literally a personal statement about the band itself,” matty smiles, then winces. “that was embarrassing.”

you shrug. “nah, i like that film. and not just because i think christian bale’s fit in it.”

“i was gonna go as him for halloween this year, actually,” matty says, nonchalantly scrolling through spotify again. “would that be weird?”

fuck. matty in a suit? potentially covered in blood? you have to readjust the way you’re sitting at the mere thought. so, naturally - “i think you should do it.”

“yeah?”

“yeah,” you smile, matching matty’s. “i’d enjoy it, at least.”

“that’s all the convincing i need,” he smiles sweetly at you, then gestures to the laptop. “so, d’you wanna know a bit about their influences before you listen?”

“go on, then.”

“alright,” matty shuffles his chair closer to you; you sit up slightly straighter as goosebumps pass over your body, increasing tenfold when he looks directly into your eyes. from this close, his are warmer than you initially realised, and you have to work extremely hard to focus on what he's saying instead of drowning in them. “to be fair, you weren't totally far-off with the new-wave joke - their music is rooted in post-punk subculture, but more along the melodic, jangly-guitar, early eighties type. you know aztec camera, yeah? convinced i saw you wear a high land, hard rain shirt to work once.”

the butterflies nesting in your stomach flutter at his recollection. “yeah, that's right. same vibe as them?”

“kinda. similar to a lot of scottish and northern bands of that era. which is weird, considering they're all about thirty and from fucking newark.”

“i see,” you nod, smiling at the way matty's twirling one of his curls. “any springsteen influence, then? not to stereotype, but… eighties-inspired music by people from new jersey? seems like there could be connection.”

matty nods enthusiastically. “yeah, great question. i mean,” he puffs air through his lips quite adorably. “lyrically, yeah, and they have quite prominent sax parts in some of the songs that are quite e street band. but the inspiration seems to be mostly melodic post-punk. does that all make sense?”

you smile, leaning on your elbow. “yeah. you're very good at explaining things. i like that about you.”

“really?” matty blushes again. “sometimes i worry that i'm just talking shite, to be honest. i know i've got a tendency to ramble a bit, always have. it annoys people, i think.”

“not me. you're always talking about something interesting. makes me feel good to talk to you.”

he clutches his hands into sweater paws again, smiling. “same. you're a sweet one, i think. m'excited that we're working a bit closer now.”

“nobody else i'd do this with, matty,” you hold out your hand, and squeeze his when he lays it atop yours; a perfect fit, you note. “you're my favourite.”

he genuinely looks like he could cry, softly rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand and speaking even softer than that. “likewise, darling.”

for a second, you do nothing but beam at each other, still tentatively holding hands; it's only when your laptop pings with an incoming email that you break out of your reverie and apart. matty clears his throat. “would you like to know which order i recommend listening to the albums in?”

“please.”

he nods. “the second, then the most recent - which is the fifth, by the way. after that, i think i'd probably say… first, third, and fourth last. that one got a bit experimental, i doubt they'll play anything from it at either of the shows. d'you want me to just make a playlist of that order for you, while we're here?”

“oh, yes please,” you watch him do just that, a slight sense of longing settling itself in your bones when you think of a playlist so sorely him settled amidst all your favourite songs; actually, it gives you an idea. “i've got a final question for you, if that's okay, matty. well, technically two.”

“yeah?” he turns to look at you again, eyes disarmingly caring and focused on you.

“what's your absolute favourite song by the band? doesn't have to be the objectively best one, and you don't have to tell me why. m'just curious.”

matty smiles, the sun breaking through clouds. “that's easy,” he scrolls down the new playlist. “this one. that's my favourite.”

“alright,” you drag it to the top of the song list. “then that's the one i'll start with. and then i'll go onto the matty-approved listening order,” pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose, you turn to face him. “that sound alright?”

“mhmm,” matty nods vigorously again, wild hair bouncing all over the place; a curl falls over his eye, and he brushes it away before peering up at you through his enviously-long lashes. “meant what i said earlier, you know. i really do think you're incredibly sweet.”

“thank you,” you all but whisper, doing your best to cover your own blushing. “um - what was i saying?”

he smiles. “you had another question, i think?”

“right, yeah. um,” your throat goes dry with sudden nerves, and you try to swallow as inconspicuous as you can to make it better. twisting your fingers together, you look down at them as you speak. “i've still got a restaurant review to do this weekend, and i was wondering if you, like, wanted to go for dinner before saturday’s show? that italian, near camden road station? and you can say no, of course, no hard feelings, but,” you can feel your cheeks burning as you tentatively look up at him. “i'd just like to hang out with you a little bit longer this weekend. i like spending time with you.”

“oh,” matty breathes, blinking as if he can’t quite believe he isn’t dreaming - you hope that’s the reason, at least. he bites his lip, cheeks rosy as he looks up at you with a smile, and nods. “yeah, i’d love that. thank you.”

“thank you, for agreeing,” you exhale, nerves replaced by tingling excitement. “is half four too early? that would give us time to eat, and walk to the roundhouse before doors, yeah?”

“that works for me,” matty nods. he twirls his hair again. “d’you want to just meet at the restaurant? cos that’s the station i’d get off at, camden road. but i don’t mind meeting you off the tube, if you like.”

“no, no, it’s alright. i’ll just get you there - i’m not gonna make you brave the high street when you don’t need to,” you giggle. “especially on a saturday afternoon, christ.”

he huffs out a laugh, but his eyes are tender - so is his voice, when he replies. “alright. i’d do it for you, though, no complaints.”

you believe him. you aren’t sure if you’ve ever seen someone look so sweetly sincere, and it’s fucking your brain up. big-time.

still, you hold it together long enough to reply. “you’re cute, healy, even if i think you’re a bit mad for offering to walk through camden just to get me,” you giggle at the way his jaw drops at the compliment. “you can get me at angel on friday, though, if you fancy? makes sense, if you’re already walking down from highbury.”

“i’ll be there at six,” matty smiles. “i’m excited to hear what you think of the band, you know. i think you’ll like them.”

“well, if you do, then i’m sure i will. you’ve got good taste,” you gather up your laptop and stand, turning to matty with a flirty grin. “speaking of - i like that jumper. you look hot in red, matty. really hot. anyway,” you bite back a grin at the little gasp he lets out. “thanks for all your help, lovely.”

“anytime!” he calls after you when you turn to walk away, deliberately swinging your hips slightly more than usual - you’re convinced you hear a muffled “fuck” before he speaks properly. “and, um, thanks for, y’know, liking my jumper.”

you look over your shoulder and wink, happiness bubbling through your body when you notice matty shifting his gaze from your ass to your face so hastily it’s a wonder his neck didn’t snap. “friday at six, yeah? don’t be late.”

“i won’t!”

and he’s true to his word - when you come up the escalators at angel station at five minutes to six on friday, matty’s leaning against the wall opposite you. he grins, a big toothy eye-crinkling smile that has your heart doing backflips, and waves as you walk over to him. “hi! i like your jacket.”

“oh, thank you,” you self-consciously touch the fluffy collar. “have you been waiting long?”

“not really. ten minutes?”

“that’s not too bad. shall we?” you wander out into the chilly evening air, matty matching pace beside you. “you ever been to a show here before?”

“yeah. what a fucking weird venue,” matty steps closer to you to avoid being run over by a bike, and your heart flutters; you’re actually sad when he moves away. “i like it inside, but-”

“the fact it’s literally in the middle of a shopping centre is insane?”

“completely mental.”

“a really strange bit of urban planning,” you smile, turning to him as you wait at a set of traffic lights. “i listened to the playlist you made me, by the way. even learned some of the words.”

matty laughs. “you like them, then? that’s good. knew you would, though.”

you nod, fighting the urge to grab his hand as you cross the road. “played your favourite song about ten times on loop. i had no idea it was going to end up being a love song, by the way…”

“yeah, the title’s a bit misleading.”

“...but it really works. i can see why it’s your favourite,” you gently nudge your shoulder into his arm. “like i said the other day, you’ve got good taste.”

he looks down at the pavement, smiling, then at you. fuck, he’s so cute. “so do you, darling,” he says, voice so soft you can hardly hear it over the bustle around you. “i really like your outfit.”

the hour spent upending your entire wardrobe onto your bed to pick it out was absolutely worth it. “thank you. i figured, y’know, since i’m technically not working,” you smirk at him. “i’d make the effort for going out. tomorrow, though, when i’m on-shift? not a chance.”

“you’ll still look great, i reckon,” matty says, easy as breathing; ironically, the ease of his words practically stops your own breath. “and yeah, i s’pose you really aren’t working tonight. when was the last time you went to a gig just for fun?”

“it’s been a while,” you admit. “and i miss it, actually, getting to just experience new artists without having to analyse and critique them. that’s part of the reason i’m excited to be going tonight.”

“i get that,” matty nods as you turn into the venue entrance. “and what’s the other part?”

you grin. “the fact i’m going with you.”

once again, matty blushes. “if you keep throwing me off with compliments the whole night, i literally won’t get any work done. but thank you. m’glad you agreed to come with me tonight.”

“i’m glad you asked,” you turn to him once you join the line to get in. “and you’ll get your work done, don’t worry. i promise to be good.”

for the most part, you actually succeed at that, and it’s largely due to how bloody good the band are. for all the venue is in a weird place, it really is a decent one - it’s so intimate that even you, who only started listening to the artists onstage this week, feel like a proper part of it. and, free of note-taking responsibilities, you can allow yourself to be made giddy by the coloured lights and loud melodies, to dance as best you can on the sticky floor, to sing along to the scraps of lyrics you recognise and join in the backing vocals with the rest of the crowd. that was always your favourite part of a concert, the moments where hundreds of voices just worked as one, identities dropping and merging to prioritise the music; it’s nice to be in it, for once, rather than doing your best to observe and capture and convey it in words. you leave that to matty, and mostly leave him be aside from the odd smile and laugh, always responded to warmly by him.

that is, until they play his favourite song, and the boy beside you becomes impossible to ignore.

the singer says something about this being the last song of the night, before beginning the now-familiar melody on his guitar. matty’s head snaps up at the first few notes, and his notebook snaps shut; you turn to him at the noise, smiling at the excitement on his face, even more radiant than usual under the pink lighting. he looks at you with a matching smile, curls bouncing as he nods along to the music, before turning back rapt towards the stage. you follow suit, soaking up the lyrics about wanting and yearning and falling fast for someone - hearing those words with that person beside you sends goosebumps shooting across your skin and sparks through your nervous system, the same kind of kinetic energy crackling in the space between you and matty. it’s so strong you have to uncross your arms, stretching your fingers out by your side. mortifyingly, they brush against the back of matty’s hand, and the sparks become shockwaves; not so much born out of fear, but of the same kind of longing the singer is musing about. he doesn’t seem to mind the contact, hand staying put despite it, and something in your brain just says fuck it and snaps.

tentatively, more so than you think you’ve ever been before, you loop your fingers around matty’s, and you hold his hand. and, quite honestly, nothing has ever felt quite so right as this. the shockwaves in your nervous system fade to a gentle hum, kinda like the reverb from the speakers, with only a tiny jolt when matty gently squeezes your hand in response.that’s how you stay for the rest of the song, hand-in-hand facing the stage, both of you - unbeknownst to the other - smiling contentedly and mouthing the lyrics to the song you relate to.

it lasts a sickeningly short amount of time, though - as soon as the song ends, you and matty are all but pulled apart by a group of kids running towards the stage, shouting about setlists and drumsticks and god knows what else. matty chuckles, walking backwards towards the exit so he can talk to you. "that was good.”

“yeah,” you agree, although you’re not sure what he’s specifically referring to. “liked it a lot.”

“me too.”

there’s comfortable silence as you weave your way out of the venue and onto the street. you turn to say a reluctant goodbye to matty, but he beats you to it. “i’ll walk you to the station.”

“are you sure? you’ve got a bit of a walk in the other direction, matty.”

he shrugs. “it’s a nice night. i don’t mind.”

“cool,” you do your best to keep from smiling at the thought of an extra five minutes with him. “thank you.”

“s'alright,” matty smiles, leading the way down the street. “i've had a lot of fun tonight.”

“yeah, same here. they're really good!”

“aren't they? i'm excited to see their set tomorrow, see how it compares,” he hums happily. “i think this is gonna turn out to be a really good article, you know.”

“so do i,” you beam at him. “and i must say, i'm enjoying the process for this one much more than i have in a while.”

he giggles, and you have to fight the urge to hold his hand again. “well, if you think about it,” matty rubs his thumb over his bottom lip quite attractively. “it makes a lot more sense for us to do gig reviews together. music is something to be shared, after all, and live music especially, and so are our reviews - we probably get a better sense of it all if we're not by ourselves, don't you think?”

you don't even bother trying to hide how enamoured you are when you look at him. “i love the way your brain works, matty.”

“oh, shush,” he clutches the sleeves of his jacket over his hands, but beams anyway; it drops from his face when he notices the tube station sign up ahead. “well, i suppose this is where i leave you.”

the melancholia in his voice makes your heart sink. “yeah, i guess,” you sigh. “but not for long, though.”

“true,” matty's face brightens, and he reaches to take your hand and squeeze it gently. “thanks for coming, darling. i had a lot of fun.”

“thank you for having me,” you squeeze his hand in return, smiling at the way he looks down at your connected fingers in wonder. “text me when you get home?”

“of course. you too, please.”

“i will,” you let go of matty, pausing before you turn to walk away; quicker than your brain can convince you otherwise, you lean up to press a kiss to his soft cheek, before winking at his dazed expression and turning towards the station. “see you tomorrow, lovely.”

“bye,” comes the soft, delayed reply. you turn back to wave once you reach the escalator, then smile giddily to yourself the whole way home.

in fact, you don't think you stop smiling giddily for the rest of the night, or the next day; just the knowledge that you're going to see matty again keeps you in a state of sunniness, has you dancing around the flat and serenading your dog, who just looks at you like you're insane. a tiny part of your brain agrees with her, but how can you be expected to help it? you haven't been this excited to go on a date with someone in a long, long time.

well, it's not a date, officially. but walking into a dimly-lit italian restaurant with matty in tow, him taking your jacket and pulling your chair out for you like a perfect gentleman? it fucking feels like it. you wish it was.

even more so when he takes his own jacket off, revealing A) a short-sleeved shirt in the same colour of red you told him he looked hot in the other day, worn slightly open over a white tank; B) almost-unbelievably muscular arms; C) tattoos littered up said arms, and one on his chest just peeking out suggestively.

jesus fucking christ.

you can’t help but stare at matty, mouth agape, as he sits down. he giggles nervously when he notices. “what?”

the words leave your mouth before you can even think about stopping them. “matty… do you know how hot you are?”

he does the adorable blinking thing again. “you think i’m hot? me?”

“um, yeah, i have eyes,” you giggle, cheeks burning. keep it together, you stupid slut. “i didn’t know you had all those tattoos, actually. why don’t you show them off more?”

matty shrugs. “sometimes, people think if you have lots of tattoos, you’re like, i don’t know… scary, or unapproachable,” he opens the drinks menu. “that’s not the impression i wanna give off, you know? especially at work. like, you know me, i’m quite soft and quiet. i just think the tattoos look sick.”

god, you want to eat him alive.

“i understand,” you nod, leaning on your elbows. “and i also think they look sick. kinda sexy, i’d say, to be honest. anyway,” you bite back a smirk at matty’s flustered expression. “what sort of drink are you in the mood for?”

“oh, well… i don’t know, actually,” matty scans the menu, then meets your eyes. “i’m new to this sort of reviewing. what do you usually do first? talk me through it,” he must mistake your wide eyes after his last statement for horror, instead of slight arousal. “please.”

“okay. can i see the menu, please? right, fab, thanks,” you hold it open so you can both see the drinks list. “shit, this is extensive… reasonably priced, would you say?”

“for this part of london? yeah.”

“i agree. right,” you look at him, and the concentration with which he looks back almost throws you off. “because we haven’t picked out food and don’t know about flavour palettes yet, i’d avoid wine for the time being. anything too flavoured, actually - i reckon our best bets are either some sort of fairly neutral cocktail, or a spirit and clear mixer. you know, vodka soda, a g&t, that kind of thing.”

matty nods. “makes sense.”

“yeah. the exception to all of that, in my opinion, is champagne,” you smile. “but if i start drinking it, i won’t want to stop, and if i kick the arse out of this meal on the work credit card then marianne will kick mine, so…”

he laughs, and the warmth of it goes straight to your stomach. “classy girl,” he smiles, laughing even harder when you make a face. “well, i think you are. and,” he points at the menu. “i also think we should have negronis.”

“nice. alright, let’s move on to food,” you open another menu. “oh, thank god we came here so early - this decision might take me a while. sorry.”

matty smiles, the tenderness in his eyes only exacerbated by the flickering candlelight. “that’s alright, darling. we’ll take all the time you need. well,” he winces. “maybe keep it within the two and a half hours we’ve got until we need to leave for the gig. although i s’pose we could stay here another fifteen minutes if we got a taxi.”

you wave insouciantly. “we’ll be on time. and you’ll have fun, too. promise.”

“oh, i don’t doubt that.”

and you really do have fun, despite having to constantly remind yourself that you’re not on a date and are in fact at work. the two negronis you each have over the course of the meal continue to coax matty out of his shell - and thus, get you to fall even harder for him than you already have, which to be honest you didn’t think was possible after seeing his tattoos - to the point where he’s affectionately taking the piss out of you for stealing forkfuls of his dinner “for journalistic purposes”. but, all in all, he’s completely fascinated by the process of forming your review, taking interest in the subtleties of what makes somewhere good versus great, and marvelling at the breadth of your culinary knowledge (which you’re actually very proud of, being self-taught and all); he’s still raving about it as you walk - with plenty of time to spare, mind you - along chalk farm road towards the roundhouse. “i actually don’t know what i’m more impressed with, you or the food. genuinely. you’re incredible. and to think i was going to make you soup!”

you frown. “past tense? why?”

“you know too much about food. i won’t be able to impress you.”

“matty,” you turn to look at him, wide-eyed and crestfallen. “that’s not true at all!”

he scoffs, but not harshly. “come on, babe,” the nickname does something funny to your stomach. “i’m not upset about it, just thinking realistically. how is my nana’s carrot and coriander recipe gonna stack up against michelin-starred minestrone, or whatever? not at all, that’s how. and that’s alright!”

“matty. matty - alright, fine,” you clear your throat, stopping and standing with your hands on your hips. “matthew. listen to me, and listen good, yeah? right,” when he nods, blinking those pretty eyes, you continue. “soup is a whole different thing - in fact, all domestic cooking is, especially if you’re making something for someone you care about. i don’t want to be impressed by the technique, i want to be nourished. cared for. dare i say, healed. and, in that regard, i have no doubt that your nana’s recipe would fucking decimate any posh restaurant soup. alright?”

he nods, shyly peeking through his eyelashes. “alright.”

“thank you.”

the walk continues, silent for a few minutes until matty talks again. “you know,” he says, smile audible in his voice. “i didn’t think i’d find being lectured about soup sexy. and yet…”

“oh my god, stop it,” you giggle, although you’re simultaneously fighting the urge to skip along the path and secretly filing that piece of matty information away in your mind. just in case. “thanks, though.”

he shrugs, smirking. you’re into it. “just telling the truth. it’s my job, after all.”

“and here i thought you were flirting with me,” you smirk back. “shame,” you wink, speeding up slightly towards the venue; you drop into serious mode when you see several different door queues. “shit. where do we go, with the press passes?”

matty hums, looking around. suddenly, he takes your hand, gently leading you to a side door; you’re quite content with this, a sort-of fuzzy feeling overcoming you, so much so that you barely register him talking. “here we are. you ready, darling?”

you nod happily at him. “round two. let’s go.”

the night, at first, progresses a lot like the previous one - you spend the opening set dancing, singing along to the songs you know pretty well by now, leaning in to talk to matty about any discrepancies you see in performance between both nights while he diligently takes notes. when they close with his favourite song, again, you’re slightly dismayed that he continues to write, and you can’t repeat the hand-holding; pretty much as soon as you’ve thought that, though, matty leans into you to rest his head on yours and sing along to the lyrics, and the room seems to get brighter. out of both desire and necessity (you know how clumsy he is), you wrap an arm around matty’s waist, and you swear you can hear him smile. it’s warm, sweet, intimate without being weird, and you really don’t want to let go of him. ever.

eventually, once the song ends and the house lights come up in the break between sets, you do, pulling your notebook from your jacket pocket with a sigh. matty straightens up, stretches with a groan that should not be as attractive as it was to you, and smiles. “pasta tiredness hitting you too?”

“little bit,” you wince. “maybe dinner then dancing was a bad idea.”

he shakes his head. “nah. it’s been fun. i’ve really enjoyed it.”

“i’m glad to hear that,” you smile at him. “wouldn’t mind making a habit of it, actually.”

“really?” matty beams. “neither would i. maybe we can pitch it to marianne as an actual segment. like, restaurant pairings with gigs, potentially highlight local places near the venues we go to. yeah?”

it’s a fucking great idea. he goes all bashful when you tell him as much. “cool. we can maybe see her about it on monday, if she’s in.”

you nod. “of course. come and find me on monday morning, and we can come up with a proper pitch while we get this piece done, alright?”

“‘course,” matty nods, smiling when the lights drop and the audience scream. “right, i’ll leave you to your notes.”

“cheers,” you reply, reluctantly turning towards the stage. it isn’t that the gig is bad, at all - as you wrote in your notes, the band are talented, charismatic, well-rehearsed. it’s just extremely difficult to focus on them and your notebook when you have the boy of your dreams beside you, close enough to touch and kiss and dance with, singing along happily and doing a dorky little two-step that makes his hair bounce quite beautifully. every so often, the urge to turn and smile at him becomes too much to resist, and matty goes visibly - adorably - pink under the stark white lighting every single time he makes eye contact with you.

by the time the gig ends, you’re dead certain: you are down so incredibly deeply bad for matty healy, and you need to tell him as soon as possible.

as it turns out, the opportunity for that happens extremely quickly once you’re both out of the venue, talking and laughing and dissecting the show even further than you did in your respective notebooks as you leave, and it’s so romance-media smooth that you genuinely think a higher power might be involved. perhaps an apology from the universe by having a group of teenagers push you and matty apart at yesterday’s gig, this time a group of them push you closer together, bolting past you and screaming about catching the bus home - matty tugs you into him to stop you being completely bowled over, and turns so the two of you are right next to the building instead of in the firing line out in the open. his hands are warm against your waist and lower back, and so is his neck under your clasped hands; you have no recollection of putting them there, but you sure as shit aren’t going to move them anytime soon. if you did that, you’d further the distance between you, and why on earth would you want to do that, when you’re so close you can’t tell whose breath cloud is whose and the little flecks of gold in his dark eyes are visible to you for the first time?

no. you’ll stay as you are, thank you very much.

“you know that thing we were going to pitch to marianne at work on monday?” you whisper, heart pounding as you notice matty’s eyes flick to your lips. “the thing we want to make a habit of?”

“yeah,” matty breathes, the words so close to your lips you can practically taste them. “what about it?”

your lips part, and you take a shaky breath before you reply. “well, the thing is,” you bite your lip, and his pupils dilate. “i don’t think i want it to be a work thing, matty.”

a beat passes before he responds. “neither do i.”

thank fuck.

your eyes close in contentment. “matty?”

“yeah, darling?”

you reopen them, looking up at him - for the probably millionth time in two days, you don’t bother trying to hide the feeling in your gaze. “kiss me.”

that gorgeous face above yours cracks into a smile. “alright.”

and he does.

it’s exactly how you imagined he would be - a little bit sloppy, tentative with tongue, but so eager and giggly and just so caring that it doesn’t matter. on instinct, your hand roots itself in matty’s curls, and the little whine he lets out is probably enough to fuel your bedtime fantasies for a fortnight by itself. you smile into him, tracing your tongue around his lips before sucking on the bottom one and releasing it slowly. your head is spinning, from matty more than lack of oxygen, and you honestly don’t think you’ve ever been happier post-kiss in your life.

there’s a happy silence for a minute, save the two of you gasping for breath, broken by matty kissing you quickly again and grinning. “hi. and, also, wow.”

“indeed,” you beam up at him, gently twisting those pretty curls around your fingers. “you might’ve figured it out by now, but… i like you, in a more-than-platonic sense.”

“the kiss gave it away, yeah,” he giggles breathily. “i take it there’s no policy at work about making out with your colleagues? or, y’know, taking them out on actual, unrelated-to-work dates?”

“no such thing.”

matty smiles, pulling you in for another kiss. “well, thank christ for that.”

#mads muses #mads does writing #office nerd au #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fluff #matty healy x reader #matty x reader

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oizysian · 3 months ago

Text

X. PUMPKIN

All Eyes on Me masterlist

Word count: 2.1k

AN: I’m so sorry I haven’t updated this on here lately. I’m gonna catch up with everything soon!

•

"I can't believe I just spent a whole day with Lizzie and Robbie."

"Robbie? That's her husband isn't it?" Claire questioned.

"Mhm."

"How were you able to keep your cool around Lizzie with Robbie there?"

"I just kinda ... zoned out a lot. He's really nice and he made an effort to get to know me, but I can't help but feel guilty when I'm around him."

"Why?"

"Because I'm in love with his wife!" I threw my hands up in frustration, my headset almost falling off my head with the sudden action.

"Y/N, listen," I held my breath as I waited for her to continue speaking. "Don't feel guilty. You can't help it if she likes you."

"Which she doesn't. Not like that."

"Says you. What did Brie say?"

I groaned, the memory of our kisses hitting me like a ton of bricks.

"She thinks she likes me." I mumbled. "But, she likes me too."

"She? She as in Brie?"

"Uh huh. We ... kinda ... kissed."

"You what?!"

"We were drunk and high and she was busting my balls about liking Lizzie so I kissed her to prove I wasn't in love with her."

"And did that work?"

"No."

She sighed and I began to feel even more guilty. Between Robbie and Brie, I was never gonna get any sleep at night.

"What a surprise." Sarcasm dripped from her words. "Why can't you just be honest with yourself - and your friends."

"I'm not being honest with Lizzie. She can't know I have feelings for her. It would make things weird."

"Don't you think she's smart enough to figure it out eventually?"

"I mean, yeah, probably, but by then I'm hoping I'll be over it."

"Doubtful, but good luck with that."

"Thanks so much. You're no damn help."

"Yes I am. You just don't like my advice."

"Okay. What's your advice?"

"Keep hanging out with Lizzie and try to see if she's interested - married or not." She stopped me before I could interject. "If she is, see where it goes. If not, then at least she's your friend."

"I was just gonna skip the first part and just stay friends with her."

"Go ahead and do that, then. But, you're gonna suffer not knowing if there could've been anything between you if you don't test the waters."

I was quiet for a moment, taking in her words and thinking hard about them. She was right, of course she was. But, the risk of losing Lizzie as a friend just to see if we could be more than that, which was nearly an impossibility anyway, outweighed any feelings I had for her. I didn't want to lose her in any capacity. I just had to stop liking her like that.

"I'll think about it. I just ... I really like her. As a friend, even. I don't want to lose her 'cos of some schoolgirl crush."

"You're definitely not crushing. The way you talk about her." She let out a dry chuckle. "You're absolutely in love."

"She doesn't even know me. She'd think I was insane if I told her I had feelings for her. We've only hung out three times."

"Once for like three days though."

"Two days."

"Okay, two days. So, that's a weekend. Plus all the constant texting."

I sighed, rubbing my eyes tiredly. This was the worst situation I had ever been in and it was all my own fault.

"Look," I started. "I know you mean well, but I'm just gonna stay friendly with her. If something happens, that's great! But, I won't be making the first move. Or any moves."

"Whatever you feel you should do, I'll support your decision."

"Thanks, bestie. I really appreciate you listening to all my griping."

"That's what I'm here for. Now get your head in the game. I'm tired of reviving you."

"Sorry." I laughed. "I just have a lot on my mind lately."

"I know."

She was interrupted by my phone going off, indicating that I got a text.

"Is it Lizzie?" She asked excitedly and I shrugged to myself.

"Not sure. I'm playing the game, not looking at my phone. Like you told me to."

"Oh my god, just look at your phone. I'm dying from the suspense."

I hid myself in a bush while I checked my phone. It was Lizzie.

"Well?" Claire asked with excitement in her voice.

"Lizzie wants to hang out before she heads back to LA for some business."

"And? Are you gonna see her?"

"Of course I am." I stared at the message for another moment before I felt my controller vibrate, signaling I was being shot at. "Shit."

I put my phone down and got myself back into the game. The intensity of the game provided silence, which gave me ample time to think.

"You didn't see how she looked at him, though." I said quietly. "She looked at him with stars in her eyes."

"And what about you? How do you look at her?"

I was silent. I knew how I looked at her, it had been pointed out to me few times already. But, what did that matter? She only had eyes for him.

"I look at her like she's the only beautiful thing in the world."

"Exactly, you mush."

"But, she doesn't look at me like that."

"Maybe she does and you haven't noticed."

"Maybe." I whispered to myself, my eyes flickering to my phone as it went off again.

I'm outside.

"Shit, I gotta go, Claire."

"But, there's only two teams left! We gotta finish this game!"

I hesitated for a moment before relenting.

"Damn, okay, let's kill them quickly, then."

We continued to play, my mind on the blonde outside my apartment rather than the game I was in. She was waiting for me and I was playing some stupid game.

I rushed into the battlefield, shooting indiscriminately to try and end the game quickly. I killed absolutely no one and got myself downed, which left Claire alone to win the game.

I picked up my phone and started texting Lizzie, telling her I was being held up and I'd be out in a moment.

Claire was able to clutch the game and we won, but I still was in another world.

"Go get your girl. You're not here with me anyway." She laughed and I sighed apologetically.

"Sorry, I'm going. I'll talk to you later."

I shut my game and tossed my headphones on the bed before rushing to the door, slipping my shoes on and practically running out to meet her. Brie was right, I was down bad.

As I approached her car, she smiled and I couldn't help but smile back. Her smile was damn infectious and I was happy to catch it.

I opened the passenger door and got in, closing it swiftly and buckling up.

"So what was so important that you kept me waiting fifteen minutes?" She asked playfully, a mock angry look on her face.

I laughed and raised my hands in surrender.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I was in a game when you messaged me. I had to finish what I started."

"Mhm." She grumbled, a small smile still lingering on her face as she started to drive.

I leaned back in the seat as we fell into a comfortable silence, the soft music coming from the radio all but ignored as we took in each other's presence.

"Where are we going?" I asked after a few moments, my curiosity getting the better of me.

"I was wondering when you were gonna ask." She giggled, her eyes shifting from the road to me and then back again. "We're going someplace yummy."

"McDonald's?" I asked excitedly.

"Yummier." She laughed, shaking her head.

"What could be yummier than McDonald's?"

"Absolutely anything. Wendy's for example."

"Oof. She's got superior burgers, but McDonald's fries all the way."

"Fair enough. But no, we're not getting fast food."

"Bummer."

"Hush." She said as she lightly smacked my thigh with her right hand. "You'll love it."

"Oh," I whimpered pathetically, holding my leg. "The pain."

"Aw, poor baby." She teased. "Here," she kissed her hand and placed it on my leg, and my heart fluttered. "All better."

"All better." I repeated, dazed from her actions, and currently riding a high from her touch.

She left her hand there for a moment longer than she probably should have before giving me a pat and returning her hand to the steering wheel.

"Do I get a hint?"

"You already got a hint!" She laughed.

"Yummier than McDonald's is not a hint."

"Well, that's all you're getting."

I huffed playfully and sunk into the seat, noting how damn comfortable it was.

"I could fall asleep in this seat." I told her, closing my eyes briefly before opening them again and looking at her.

She had been staring at me as we were stopped at a red light. A faint blush crossed her cheeks and she had a small smile on her lips. How long was she looking at me?

"It's green." I whispered and she snapped out of her stupor, returning her focus and attention to the road.

I smiled to myself, thinking that maybe, just maybe, she could be looking at me the way she looked at Robbie. Maybe I could be someone special to her.

We drove for a while longer before she pulled up in front of a small ice cream shop somewhere in the city.

"Ice cream!" I cheered as I unbuckled my seatbelt and got out of the car. I looked at the signs on the windows, my face dropping when I saw the seasonal flavors. "Oh no, pumpkin."

"Oh yes, pumpkin." She smirked as she stood next to me. "You're gonna love it."

"Can I get a different flavor and taste yours?"

She thought for a second before nodding, playfully nudging me.

"Of course, silly. What flavor would you like?" She asked as we entered.

"Chocolate." I hummed softly. "Chocolate sounds so good right now."

"Pumpkin sounds even better."

"Absolutely not." I laughed.

We walked up to the counter and she ordered for us, which I was grateful for, and as I was about to pull out my wallet, she beat me to it and paid with her card.

"My treat."

"Lizzie." I whined and she smiled at me. "You can't keep spoiling me like this."

"Says you."

We got our cones and sat down in a booth hidden away in a corner. She sat facing away from the door and I sat across from her.

"This is so good." I spoke as I ate, chocolate undoubtedly getting all over the place.

"I see that." She laughed softly, offering me her cone. "Just try it. One lick."

I looked from her to the cone, wincing as I remembered I promised to try it.

"Stick out your tongue ..." she said as she raised it up to my lips.

Without a second thought, I did what I was told, taking a generous amount of ice cream onto my tongue.

"Good girl."

I would've choked if I hadn't already swallowed the mildly repulsive treat. She smiled widely as my face went from disgust to indifference, taking that as a win.

"I've tasted worse things."

"I told you."

"No. You told me it was good. I didn't say it was good."

"Oh, c'mon." She laughed and I laughed with her.

"It's okay. Chocolate is definitely better."

"Lemme taste yours."

I took another lick of my ice cream to get the pumpkin off my tongue before holding the cone out to her, watching as she kept eye contact with me as she licked delicately at my ice cream.

Jesus shit fuck -

"Y/N? Earth to Y/N?" I snapped out of my daze and returned my attention to her, an amused smile on her face. "You okay?"

"I'm great." I smiled back, realizing that if she wanted to play that game, even just in a friendly way, we could play that game.

I reached across the table and ran my thumb along her lower lip, wiping the remains of my ice cream off of her mouth.

She sat, dazed, mouth slightly agape as I wiped off my finger with a napkin, holding back every urge in my body to stick it in my mouth and suck it clean.

When she snapped out of her daze, she picked up a napkin, leaned across the table, and started wiping my entire face.

"Hey!" I cried, laughing at her actions. "I'm not that dirty!"

"That's what you think." She giggled, finally bringing the napkin to my mouth and wiping it clean. "There. Now you're all clean."

"Thank you, mom." I started eating my ice cream again, careful to keep myself spotless.

She hummed as she ate her ice cream, and we sat in, yet another, comfortable silence, just enjoying each other's company. Maybe Claire was right. Maybe there could be something between us. Or this was just harmless, friendly flirting. There was only one way to find out, whether I liked it or not.

•

@oh-thats-cute @marvelwomen-simp @dorabledewdroop @scarlie-johalsen-blog @annie-ahmelia

#oizysian writes #elizabeth olsen story #elizabeth olsen x yn #elizabeth olsen x you #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen x female reader #elizabeth olsen fanfic

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anucalor · 4 months ago

Text

Mutuals pt.2 (Onyankopon x Black! Reader)

haii! im so sorry for taking literally forever to post this. i was so ready to get back into writing, but i started taking my classes full time (which i passed（＾∇＾）) but now i am getting ready for state and with three jobs... its a lot lol. but im ready to try to get back into it!

i also have Kofi if you ever wanted to support in other ways!

anywho, here ya go!

y/n is a little shy. when she moves back home, her friend mika tries to get her out the house. what better way than to meet mutuals?

(w.c. 2.6k)

warnings: none, language (if any)

__________

It’s Thursday.

Today shouldn’t hold so much weight, but it did. Besides being the beautiful day before a weekend, it’s the day before Ony and I go on our first date.

I can’t help but think about it every now and then. Receiving his texts throughout the day doesn’t help either. I've realized he’s much more of a subtle flirt than I would have thought, constantly catching me off guard. I smile and shake my head before looking away from my Apple watch to continue charting.

I check the time and see it’s a little after seven o’clock. After filling in a few people on my floor and making sure everything is logged in, I go to my locker and grab my belongings. I make my way to the elevator and ride down to the first floor. As soon as I step off of the elevator, I get a phone call.

Ony.

I bite my lip to prevent myself from smiling too much before answering.

“Hello?”

“Hey, pretty girl,” I smile a little wider, “how was work?”

“It was good. Walking to my car, now.”

We make casual talk as I continue towards my car. Once I’m inside with my doors locked, I start my engine and begin making my way home. After a few minutes, Ony finally brings up the day I’ve been too nervous to ask about.

“Mmm... you ready for tomorrow, mama?”

My heart skips.

“I, uhh, I am.” I try to sound as relaxed as possible. I can only hope he doesn’t hear how hesitant I sound.

“What’s wrong? You don’t sound so sure.”

Of course, he heard...

“I’m sure... I just have a lot on my mind,” I explain softly.

“You wanna talk about it?” Ony offers.

I smile, "Just excited for tomorrow, ‘s all.” I can almost hear his smile in his ‘mhm.’

I assume that’s a fine enough answer because Ony doesn’t push the topic, opting to change the subject.

After about a 10-minute drive, I finally made it back home. I grab all of my belongings and make my way towards the door, making sure to lock my car. I unlock the door to my apartment and walk in, making sure to lock it, as well.

“You inside yet, mama?” I hear Ony’s voice mumble through my phone.

“Yeah, I’m inside.” I walk to the island in the kitchen and put my bag on the counter before looking over at my buzzing phone.

Ony is FaceTiming me.

I answer the call and gently lean my phone against a nearby object on my counter so that he can see me. The call finally connects and I see Ony leaning back in his chair, fingers moving around on his controller as he plays the game. The corners of my lips slightly raise at the sight of him before I look away for a moment to place one hand on the counter and use the other to remove my shoes.

“You look pretty, (N/N),” I hear him say over the speaker.

I couldn’t help but chuckle as I pick up my phone, shoes, and purse and walk to my bedroom.

“You say that every time we're on the phone,” I mention with a tired yet teasing tone, “but thank you.”

He ignores my initial statement and smiles, eyes returning to his TV screen, “You’re welcome.”

The night goes on as it normally would; I change and sit on the phone with Yanni for a little over an hour before deciding it is time for me to take a shower and go to bed.

When I wake up the next morning, it takes me a moment to become fully oriented. When I do, I can’t help but think about how the night could go. Ony and I can realize that being friends is what’s best; we could not like one another, or we could continue in pursuit of a relationship. Of course, I’m hoping for the latter, but only time will tell.

After talking to God about my worries, I feel a little better and finally decide to get up and get ready, leaving my phone on its charger. After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I walk into my room and look through my wardrobe for a dress that’s fancy enough for a dinner date but not overly obnoxious. Wanting to remain on the safe side, I decide on a long black, long-sleeved dress with some heels. Feeling content with my decision, I decide to pick up my phone to check any notifications.

The very first one is from Ony.

Ony: Good morning pretty girl. Ima be a little busier today so I won’t be able to talk much. Make sure you’re ready by 6. I’ll see you soon

I smile before responding to his text, feeling slight butterflies in my tummy. I make sure to let him know I appreciate him telling me he’d be busy and that I’ll see him tonight. Checking the time, I decide to go ahead and grab some breakfast, opting for some fruit, feeling too nervous to eat too much.

I try to talk myself down, trying not to get worked up over some guy.

‘It’s just another date with another guy... it’s just another date with another guy... but it’s not.’

There's something about Onyan that makes me hope that what we have goes further than ‘just another date.’ Although we’ve only really been able to speak over the phone since we met, he seems to be more genuine than any other person who has tried to pursue me. Mikasa’s words continue to play in my mind as well. Knowing from a reliable source that he doesn’t mess around for fun also puts me a little at ease.

I just need to relax and trust that no matter what happens, everything’s gonna be okay.

I sit in front of my vanity, applying any finishing touches I think I need. I stand and take in my appearance. A smile makes its way onto my lips as I reach to grab some perfume. I spray to my heart’s content before grabbing my purse and phone and walking to the living room. Again, I look in the large mirror at my reflection, feeling happy with how I look. Minutes pass before I hear a knock on my door.

My heart drops to my stomach. I take a deep breath before walking to the door, unlocking and opening it. Once it’s open, I see Ony with a bouquet of light pink roses with white lilies. I give an endearing smile before hugging him.

“Ony, these are beautiful. Thank you.”

He carefully wraps his arms around me, a smile on his face as he responds, “You’re welcome, (N/N). I’m glad you like them.”

I lean away before gently taking the bouquet from his grasp, my hand lightly brushing against his. I lead him inside for a moment while I carefully replace my older flowers with the newer ones. Once that’s done, I grab my purse.

“You ready?” Ony glances up from his phone once he sees that I have my purse.

I nod and watch as he smiles, taking in my outfit for the night.

“You look beautiful, (Y/N).” He stands from the barstool he sat in while he waited and makes his way to me with his hand out.

I take my lower lip into my mouth to try to prevent me from smiling like an idiot, and it just barely works. My hand interlocks with his as I respond. “Thank you, and you look very handsome.”

Which is true. Ony has on a solid black shirt with some loose black pants and white forces. He, of course, has his chain and studs on and a black and white bomber jacket. He bites his lip as he looks down at me for a moment.

“Thank you, mama.” I smile before looking at the ground. Ony let out a breathy chuckle at the way I couldn’t hold eye contact before leading us to his car. He leads me to the passenger’s side and opens the door for me. I give a soft thank you before sitting down and bringing my legs inside. When I get situated, he closes the door and makes his way to the driver's side before driving off.

After 25 minutes, we make it to our restaurant. I know I haven’t been here before, so I don’t know what to expect. Ony parks and makes his way to my side to help me out. I place my hand in his while he leads us inside the restaurant. The host leads us to a secluded booth towards the back of the restaurant. We walk hand in hand until we reach the area, separating only to sit across from one another. Our host hands us our menus and tells us our waitress will be with us soon.

I gently look through the menu, eyes slowly gazing over what all the restaurant has to offer. Ony, sitting across from me, can’t help but allow his eyes to gaze over me, only giving his menu half the attention since he already knows what he wants. He swiftly thinks of something to talk about and opens his mouth to speak.

“Don’t hesitate to get anything you want, by the way. ” My eyes flicker up to his at the sound of his voice. I smile softly before briefly returning my eyes back to the menu.

“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you.”

Ony gently licks his lips before closing his menu completely and giving me his undivided attention.

After that, conversation was nothing short of wonderful - Ony smoothly leading the us from one topic to another. I could feel my attraction for him grow the more he spoke to me in that soft, deep tone that I’ve grown used to. Due to me not being the best conversationalist, I was hesitant for this date, but it comes so naturally with him. As if he knows exactly what to say and when to say it.

From childhood memories to stories about work to ranting about the group that we’ve grown to love so dearly. It felt as though we had known each other for years.

After ordering, it took us bit before our food was brought out to us. Even then we joke about how it got quiet when we started eating, knowing that the restaurant he picked was a good choice. We each took our time, slowly realizing that we didn’t want the night to end just yet. Even after Ony paid for our meal, we still stayed to talk for about another 30 minutes.

After laughing at a joke he said, I turned my phone over on the table to check the time and sigh.

“Ony, we should probably head out. It’s getting late.”

He picks up his phone and gives a soft smile.

“Yeah, you right... Alright, let’s go, pretty girl,” he directs softly before standing.

I scoot just a little before turning my legs to the outside of the booth where Ony was waiting with his hand outstretched. I gently place my hand in his and stand.

“You got everything?” I turn to make sure I didn't drop anything before nodding.

“Mhm, yeah. I’m good.”

And with that, he leads us towards the exit. Once we get to his car, he opens the door for me before going to his side. I watch as he walks to his side, trying to hide the goofy grin that’s trying to make itself known.

He finally sits down in the car before turning to look at me, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“What?” he asks with a small grin. I shake my head before picking up my phone.

“Nothing.” By the way I bit my lip to keep from smiling, I’m sure he knew it wasn’t ‘nothing,’ but he chose not to push. Opting for “whatever you say, (N/N.)”

The drive to my house was mostly done so in peaceful silence. Other than the speakers and the occasional quip, we just enjoyed each other’s presence.

After some time, Ony pulled into my apartment. He turned off his car and made his way to me.

“Aww, such chivalry. Walking me to my door?” I quip once my hand is in his.

He immediately smacks his lips before closing the door. “Mmcht, man gon’ on somewhere.” He couldn’t even finish the sentence without smiling, causing me to giggle.

We make it to my door, and I turn to him with a sigh.

“Thank you for agreeing to go out with me, (Y/N),” his voice low and clear.

I lean my shoulder against the door and sleepily look him in his eyes. “Thank you for taking me out. I really had fun.”

“Enough fun to want to do it again?” he asks, taking a step towards me.

I look off to the side, hide my smile behind my hand before dropping it. “Yeah, Ony. Enough to want to do it again.”

He looks down, a smile plastered on his face.

Only a few moments passed before he looks back at me and takes another step forward. I tilt my head a little to the side before feeling him take my hand in his, standing directly in front of me.

“I’m gonna be very honest, (Y/N) - I would really like to kiss you right now.”

For some reason me being a little tired made me a little bold and I ask, “So why haven’t you?”

A moment after those words left my mouth, Ony’s hand rests on my neck, his thumb, pointer, and ring finger gently grabbing my jaw to tilt my head upwards. He leans down and presses his soft lips onto mine. I don’t hesitate for a moment before meeting him halfway. Ony slides his other hand around my waist, pulling me in to completely close the space between us. My left hand slides to his wrist as he deepens the kiss.

It felt too soon when he pulled away. I opened my eyes to see him looking intensely at me. I quickly shy away, opting to look at the ground, my hand gently rubbing the remnants of Ony from my lips as I try not to smile too hard.

“Thank you again, Ony,” I mumble trying to keep my rapid heartbeat under control.

Ony looked at me with an adorned look in his eyes.

“You’re welcome, mama. Go get some rest, okay?”

“You, too... Goodnight, Ony.”

“Goodnight, (N/N).”

---

It’s been three months since Ony and I have been dating, and it’s been amazing. He’s been amazing. He continues to show me just how caring and protective he is - genuine and fun. The way he never fails to make me smile (whether it be after a tough day at work, or I’m just feeling a little down) is something I didn’t realize I needed.

‘I’m so glad I listened to Mika,’ is something I constantly think to myself.

She was right when she told me that he would show me the type of person he is.

And I couldn’t be happier.

Ony and I are a little more comfortable with visiting each other's houses, opting to just stay in and relax most of the time. Each time we do, we learn so much about one another. From likes to dislikes to family and more. The more we spend time together, the more I can’t help but think about what it would be like to actually be in a committed relationship with him.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t try to shoo the thought away, but it’s so hard when Ony is... himself. Going above and beyond is not foreign to him. His emotional intelligence is evident through his desire for clear communication and his (surprising) amount of empathy.

Gosh, he’s so wonderful.

My thoughts are cut short by a soft *ping!* I glance at my phone to see Ony’s name pop up. I bite back a smile before opening his message.

Yanni <3 : Be ready by 8. I got a surprise for you

---

ah, please be nice. im still getting into the swing of things. i really hope you guys enjoyed this. please excuse any mistake!

i love you but Jesus loves you more. <3

@kxllanxtdoor

@prettypink-princesss

@sevikasblackgf

pt.1

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hyper-fixated-delusions · 1 year ago

Text

To be or not to be.

High school Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader.

A/N: I hope you enjoy and I apologize for any mistakes! Also comments, reblogs, shares and likes are super appreciated, thank you! :)

Translation: “Sestra.” Sister.

Word count: 1,034.

Masterlist.

So there Wanda was, standing by her locker talking to her friends when she spots you, her girlfriend, just a few feet away talking to your own friends looking as adorably cute as ever.

Which was completely unfair if you ask Wanda, since she is supposed to mad at you and you definitely shouldn't be looking as cute as you are looking right now because the only thing it does is cause longing in her heart for you, wanting to make up so she isn’t away from you for any longer.

But being the stubborn person that she is, the brunette does the only thing she allows herself to do. Which is continuing to stare at you from afar, bottom lip caught between her teeth as she nibbles on it.

As you stand laughing and joking around with your friends. You suddenly feel like someone is looking at you, so you glance around the halls, only for your eyes to land on your girlfriend who is staring at you intently from a couple of feet away. Lip between her teeth and a look you know all too well.

Which throws you off slightly if you’re being completely honest, since you were 100% sure Wanda has been mad at you for the past 5 days. But even in your confusion, you can’t help but shoot Wanda a soft smile and then proceed talking to Bucky, Peter and Sam again.

Wanda seeing your cute smile, can’t help but feel her resolve slowly break and after debating with herself for a good few minutes on whether or not to approach you. The brunette decides to take action and goes up to you.

“Hey, can we talk?” She asks once she’s in front of you.

You nod then turn to your friends, “I’ll catch you guys later alright?” You say, then walk away with your girlfriend.

Both of the girls make their way down the hall, when suddenly Wanda stops in front of the Janitors closet. Looking both ways to make sure no one is around, she opens the door.

“So what did you want to talk about?” You ask, but suddenly you’re yanked inside the closet by the hem of your shirt. “Wha-?” You begin but are cut off by Wanda’s lips basically attacking your own.

Wanda kisses you with such an intensity that when you pull back you’re left speechless, "wow," you breathe. “Not that I'm complaining, because I’m totally not, but what was that for?” You ask with a dopey smile, causing Wanda to glare at you with no actual malice behind her eyes.

“Oh no, don’t look at me like that!” Wanda says, arms crossing on her chest as she tries to remain serious, “because even though we did just make out inside this closet, it doesn’t mean that I'm not still mad at you, because I really am,” she frowns. “But you seriously just had to wear your glasses today, didn’t you? You know how I feel about you in glasses, it makes me weak!” She pouts, “Also the whole Star Wars shirt. Could you be any more nerdy? You look so cute and adorable that it hurts! You shouldn’t be able to break my resolve! Ugh!” The brunette rambles, arms thrown up in the air in frustration.

“I-I lost my contacts and Star Wars premieres this weekend, I’m sorry?” You say weakly, brows furrowed in confusion.

“I know, I figured as much,” Wanda sighs softly. “But you make it so hard to stay mad at you baby, and it’s beyond infuriating! So now I'm going to kiss you until l either feel angry again or we just go back to our day to day lives," the brunette says as she pushes you against the wall and cups your face to kiss you once again.

Both you and Wanda stay inside the closet making out for another good 10 minutes when you pull back slightly and say, “so, what's the verdict babe?”

Wanda rolls her eyes, a small smile on her lips as she says, “I'm no longer mad.”

“Okay good. So can we go back to hanging out with our friends?” You ask and Wanda nods.

As both girls walk out of the janitors closet, hand in hand and towards their friends, you stop walking for a moment to place a soft kiss on Wanda's forehead, the short brunette sighing happily as she moves forward to hug you close, an action that causes Natasha's voice to boom down the hallway.

“Hey Stark, you owe me 10 dollars!” The redhead exclaims.

“Damn it, you lovebirds! Couldn't you have waited 2 more days?” Tony yells back, looking at both you and Wanda disapprovingly, causing you to pull apart and walk the short distance to the group.

“Wait, what?” You ask with a laugh once you’re standing in front of your friends.

“We were all betting to see how long you'd stay mad at each other. The majority of the group said 1 or 2 days, I said 5 and Tony said 7. So I win!” Natasha boasts, with a happy smirk.

“Okay, how about this! Bonus round, did Wanda cave or did Y/N actually do something to get out of the dog house? Another 10 bucks says it was Y/N,” Carol says.

“No way, it was definitely my sestra,” Pietro chimes in with a smirk.

“Nope, Y/N!” Steve exclaims.

“Nah, there’s no way, it was totally Wanda!” Clint exclaims.

“Wow, I'm glad our problems amuse you all,” Wanda deadpans with an eye roll.

“So since Tony and I were actually the closest, this is between us two and my money is on Wanda caved, what about you Tony?” Natasha says.

“Y/N, did something.” Tony says, eyes squinting with certainty.

“So what is it?” All the friends exclaim at the same time.

You wince slightly while looking at Tony and say, “sorry Tony, but Wands caved,” and all through the hall there are loud echoes of both celebration and disappointment which causes you to slightly grin.

“Nice, now pay up, playboy,” Natasha smirks, hand stretched out towards Tony.

“Damn you, red,” Tony grumbles as he hands Natasha a 20 dollar bill.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff fluff #my writing #my fic #no beta #to be or not to be

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littlemissomega · 1 year ago

Text

Malyshka

alpha!Wanda x omega!reader

Summary: Y/N joins the Avengers thinking she’ll be able to hide being an omega. Wanda bursts her bubble.

Warnings: smut, overstimulation, mating, biting, penetration, omega heat, fingering, knotting, pet names (malyshka, baby, luv, luvie), Bucky’s an asshole, a kinda maybe spark better Bucky (I can’t write fight scene without banter), scenting, scent blockers

Sorry if I forgot anything

Author’s note: This request for this was so sweet! I finally made myself sit down and finish this over the weekend :) I also marked where the smut starts if that's what you're here for

Edit: Just realized I posted this the first time with 'Emily' instead of 'Y/N'. I write my fics with a different name for the reader cause it flows easier with I brain, I just forgot to change it later. Please ignore 🤦🏻‍♀️

“Okay, everyone, this is Y/N! She’ll be joining the Avengers,” Tony voices.

Y/N fiddles with her bracelet as she gives the group of strangers a small smile. The overwhelming scent of alphas smacks her in the face, making her feel shyer than normal. She prays her scent suppressants and beta scent perfume are strong enough.

“Who decided that?” a brown haired man asks.

“I did. And I think you all will agree when you see what she can do,” Tony responds.

“It would have been nice to be consulted right, though,” a blond man points out.

“Well, I do bank roll this team, so…”

Y/N’s cheeks flush as the good discuss her like she didn’t there.

“Guy, don’t be rude! Ignore them. I’m Natasha,” the red haired woman smiles, “That’s Bucky, and that’s Steve. Steve is only agreeing with him because he wants to get laid later,’ “Hey now, ‘Tasha!” Steve laughs.

Natasha shrugs at him with a smirk.

“That’s Clint,” a man dressed in all black waves at her, “And that’s Thor,” Natasha finishes, pointing at a man with long hair.

“Nice to meet you guys,” Y/N smiles, finally finding her voice and feeling awkward and meek around the group.

“Am I the only one who wants to see what the little lady can do?” Thor asks.

“I agree,” Bucky nods.

“Okay! I guess she can spare you, Buck. Show you guys what she can do,” Tony smirks.

“Gladly,” Bucky smirks back, shrugging off his jacket.

Y/N ties her hair up and pushes her sleeves up, trying to compose herself.

I can do this! Mr. Stark believes in me, so it can’t be that hard!

“Here’s the rooms; No cheap shots. We’re all big kids here. No weapons. If the other person says ‘yield’, you win and everyone stops. If the other person is pinned or down for 30 seconds or more, then the other wins. And don’t kill each other,” Tony explains.

“Remember that word, beta,” Bucky voices, getting in a fighting stance.

Y/N ignores his taunts, focusing on the energy bubbling up in her core. She imagines it spreading through her body and resting under the skin of her hands. Her hands start glowing with lavender purple energy, and Bucky’s cocky expression cracks for a second.

“Begin,” Tony announces, leading against the wall.

Bucky lunges forward, but doesn’t get far before a stream of glowing lavender energy shots from Y/N’s hands; wrapping around Bucky’s foot and pulling him to the ground. He lands with a grunt but doesn’t stay down long. Natasha’s laugh rings through the room.

“A little warning would have been nice, Tony!” Bucky calls as he swings his metal arm back to punch her.

Y/N’s glowing hand makes a shape like she caught his fist (she’s not actually touching him), and his hand stops. Her eyes start glowing a faint purple as she turns her hand to the side, and Bucky’s arm goes with it. He lands on his back. A frustrated groan slips from his lips, causing the corners of Y/N’s to go up.

Bucky rolls to his feet and jumps forward. Right before he grabs her, Y/N teleports to the other side of the room. He stumbles forward, but regains his balance.

“The f-”

He starts towards her again, and Y/N’s wills the water in a cup to the side to rise, turning into a disk of ice. It shoots towards Bucky, but he catches it with his metal hand and throws it back at her. The ice evaporates before it reaches her.

“Okay, no more magic, kid. Why don’t you level the playing field and beat me fair and square?” Bucky asks as he lunges toward again, panting slightly. Y/N side steps him and teleports behind him. She kicks him square in the back, causing him to go down.

“And why would I do that? I’m just using my resources wisely!” Y/N points out.

“Oh, so you don’t think you can beat me without your little party tricks! That’s okay, not everyone is strong enough,” Bucky eggs her on.

“You’re kinda an asshole, you know that?” Y/N shoots back, “How ‘bout this; I don’t use magic for 60 seconds. Give you a little head start. If you can beat me in that time, then great. If you can’t…”

“Deal,” he growls, kicking his leg out and sweeping her feet out from under her.

Y/N tumbles to the ground, landing hard on her ass. Bucky pins her to the ground, but she elbows him in the nose, causing his grip to loosen enough for her to slip away. She makes it to her feet before he makes his next attack. He swings a punch at her, but she douges it, dunking under his arm and elbowing his side. Bucky lets out another growl and Y/N shivers.

“You scared, beta?” Bucky chuckles.

“No, I’m just getting a little cold from how little I have to work! And my name’s Y/N,”

Bucky wraps a hand around Y/N’s throat, and she tucks her chin while bringing her other arm around and breaking his grip. She grabs his arm and spins him around, putting him in a choke hold. Bucky’s hands fly up; trying and failing to break her grip around his neck. Y/N wraps his legs around her waist to stabilize herself as Bucky starts slamming her into the wall. She lets out a grunt as the air leaves her lungs.

“You smell…sweet?” Bucky points out, his voice muffled from his lack of air.

Shit, Y/N thinks. She realizes she’s started to sweat, which must be causing the scent blocker to wear off faster.

“I think you’re hallucinating, Barnes,” Y/N huffs as he slams her into the wall again, “And, your time’s up,”

Y/N teleports away right as Bucky slams against the wall again, causing him to take all of the blow. She kicks him in the stomach and he crumbles against the wall. Purple bands of light wrap around him, pinning him down. He struggles against them, but they don’t break.

“And.. Y/N wins!” Tony announces as the 30 seconds is up. The bands of light disappear immediately, and Bucky stumbles to his feet.

“Good match,” Y/N smiles, sticking her hand out to shake Bucky’s.

Bucky begrudgingly shakes her hands. Y/N thinks he’s being a good sport until he jerks her forward, dipping his nose down so it brushes the scent gland on her neck. Y/N gasps and stumbles back.

“Interesting,” Bucky chuckles softly.

“Did you just fucking scent me??” Y/N asks, shocked.

“Whoa, that’s too far, Bucky!” Natasha scolds, shoving Bucky.

“Sorry, sorry!” Bucky responds, the smirk not leaving his face.

“Are you okay?” Natasha asks.

“Yeah! Yeah..it’s whatever,”

“He’s just grumpy cause he lost and wanted a reaction. That was pretty badass though, newbie!”

“I agree! That was hardcore!” Thor laughs, slapping Y/N on the back. Y/N jolts forward a little, but laughs it off.

“Hey, has anyone seen Wanda today?” Steve asks. He’s holding hands with a still slightly fuming Bucky.

“I’m right here!” a voice calls from the door.

Y/N turns to see a beautiful woman with dark ginger hair that falls in soft waves and blue gray eyes. She’s dressed in red and black leather, and Y/N struggles to keep her eyes on the woman’s face instead of the curve of her breasts. Her scent of fresh coffee and cinnamon hits Y/N like a freight train, causing a whole different heat to grow in her core. She can feel her own scent growing stronger.

“Hey, Wanda! You missed the show!” Natasha laughs.

“Did I?” Wanda asks, looking at Y/N, “What’s your name, malyshka (babygirl)?”

Y/N opens her mouth, but no words come out. Natasha quickly covers for her.

“This is Y/N! She’s joining the Avengers and she just kicked Bucky’s ass!”

Wanda’s eyes don’t leave Y/N, causing her to squirm a little. Y/N pulls out her phone, and looks at it, pretending to see a notification.

“Oh, I have a missed call, so I need to go call them back! But it was nice meeting y’all!”

Bucky smirks and gives Y/N a knowing look as she runs from the room. She fainting hears the other calling bye.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” Y/N mumbles as she slams her bedroom door shut, rummaging through her stuff for her scent suppressant. She swallows two of them dry, then douses herself in the beta scent perfume.

Flopping down face first on the bed, Y/N reminds herself that joining the Avengers is a good thing. Her stupid omega pheromones just need to get their shit together. And Bucky keeps his stupid mouth shut.

Two weeks pass, and Y/N starts to settle into her new life. She trains with Natasha and Steve during the day, and they go on missions. She and Bucky continue to bully each other and have ‘friendly’ competitions. And Wanda. Oh Wanda.

Wanda has been so kind to Y/N, showing her around the compound and taking every chance to talk with her. But she also takes every chance to touch her. From putting a hand on Y/N’s shoulder when passing to letting their legs touch on the couch, Wanda has taken every chance. And Y/N hasn’t minded. Not at all.

Y/N hates how shy she gets around Wanda, and the almost gravitational pull she feels to her.

A knock on the door snaps Y/N from her thoughts.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Natasha asks through the door.

“Yeah, I’m fine!” Y/N voices, rolling over.

“Okay! Well, dinner’s ready! You hungry?”

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a second!” Y/N responds, glad to be included in the group.

Y/N quickly takes her hair out of the ponytail, fluffing the top of it. When she opens the door, Natasha is waiting for her. She smells of fresh sheets and leather polish. She’s an alpha, but her scent isn’t as overwhelming as most.

“What’s for dinner?” Y/N asks as they enter the kitchen.

“Chicken noodle soup!” Wanda responds, “How’d your call go?”

Gods she looks so pretty

“I-It was good! Just a friend,” Y/N voices, nervousness pooling in her stomach.

As they make bowls, Y/N realizes Bucky and Steve are missing.

“Where are the others?” She asks, carrying her bowl to the table.

“Oh, I heard Bucky and Steve arguing earlier, so they’re probably fucking by now,” Natasha laughs.

“My room is next to theirs, and you wouldn’t believe the things I’ve heard,” Tony voices, “Haven’t had a good night’s sleep since they mated,”

Y/N blushes, staring at her bowl. It’s always amazed her how some people are so open about sex. She picks up her spoon and takes a bite of the soup, almost moaning as it hits her taste buds.

“You like the soup, malyshka?” Wanda asks with a grin, sitting down next to her.

“Yeah!” Y/N nods, swallowing, “It’s really good,”

“I’m glad you think so,”

“Sorry, what does malyshka mean? Is it a different language?” Y/N asks. Wanda has taken to using the nickname with Y/N, and she had never asked what it ment.

“It’s Russian for babygirl,” Natasha explains with a small, knowing smile.

“Oh,”

That’s all Y/N can say as her face turns bright red. She coughs a little and takes a gulp of her water. Wanda’s shoe brushes against her calf.

“Don’t choke, princess!” Wanda chuckles.

Princess? Babygirl? This woman is going to be the death of me.

Y/N sets her cups down and focuses on eating without embarrassing herself. Halfway through, Steve and Bucky show up. Steve is limping significantly.

“Nice of you to join us,” Tony snickers.

“Shut up, Stark,” Bucky responds with a chuckle, “You’re just jealous you’re not getting any cause Pepper’s on a business trip,”

Y/N grimaces as pain shoots through her abdomen and lower back. She grips her spoon harder; her knuckles turning white. Natasha taps her foot under the table and mouths ‘You okay?’ at her. Y/N nods, relaxing her grip on the spoon even as the pain continues. The intense need to bury her face in Wanda’s chest and sit in her lap fills her.

It doesn’t help that every breath she takes is overwhelmed by Wanda’s rich scent.

Is she doing that on purpose? Y/N wonders. She can feel herself starting to sweat and takes a sip of water.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Steve asks, sounding genuinely worried.

“Yeah! O-of course!” Y/N responds, trying to sound normal.

“You look pretty flushed. Are you warm?”

Steve you’re very sweet, but please shut the fuck up. Y/N begs in her heat.

“A little! It’s just the soup. I think I’m actually gonna turn in for the night,” Y/N decides, grabbing her bowl to put in the sink. Wanda stops her.

“I can get that!” Wanda voices.

“No, that’s okay! I can-”

“Leave the bowl, malyshka,” Wanda voices, dominance seeping into her voice.

Y/N sets the bowl down and rushes up the stairs.

“What’s up with her?” she hears Tony ask.

“I wouldn’t bother her for the next week,” Bucky responds, sounding arrogant and almost condescending.

“Why not?” Natasha asks.

Y/N doesn’t wait to hear Bucky’s response. She quietly closes her bedroom door and uses the lavender light to create a barrier around the room. Now, no one will be able to scent her or hear her.

She stumbles over to her desk and opens her computer, looking at her heat calendar. It isn’t supposed to come for another 2 weeks!

“Go awayyyy,” Y/N whines as the cramps continue and a different type of need fills her. She changes into a soft, silk shorts and tank top set before climbing into bed. She nuzzles her face into the only blanket she brought from home.

Y/N tosses and turns for hours, kicking off the blankets as her body temperature goes up. A fine layer of sweat settles on her skin and pain shoots through her. She can feel herself growing wetter, and her mind keeps straying to how bad she wants to be knotted.

—--Spice starts here—----

She tries resisting, but she can’t help but kick off the shorts and slip her hand in her underwear. Y/N dips a finger in her dripping hole and moans. She drags the finger up to that hypersensitive bundle of nerves as draws gentle circles on it. Her moans float through the room.

A knock at the door causes Y/N to groan.

“Y/N, are you in there?” Wanda asks through the door.

Her brain is too foggy to form words.

“Y/N, open the door right now,” Wanda orders. Y/N whimpers at the dominance in her tone.

The door burst open before closing again. Y/N turns her head to see Wanda standing there, eyes and hands glowing a faint red color. Her scent is intoxicating. She’s wearing a cropped tank top and a pair of low rise pajama pants. The large bulge at her crotch is unmistakable.

“Oh baby. Did you get your heat?” Wanda croons.

Y/N nods, burying her face in the blankets. She jolts in pain as another cramp rips through her and rubs another circle on her clit, hoping to help ease the pain.

“Y-you should go Wa-Wanda! It’s not appropriate,” Y/N struggles to say, finally pulling her hand from her underwear.

“But you don’t really want me to do that, do you?” Wanda asks, her voice getting closer.

Y/N looks up to see Wanda right next to the bed. She sits down and lowers her face closer to hers. Wanda gently grabs her china and forces her to make eye contact. Y/N whimpers and her core throbs.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me, malyshka. And I know you feel it. The bond. Begging for us to solidify it. You’re my mate, and you know it,” Wanda voices, grabbing her hand and bringing it to her mouth.

“W-what?” Y/N stutters.

Wanda eases Y/N’s slick covered finger into her mouth and sucks gently. Y/N and Wanda moan as she releases it with a pop

“Awww, you’re such a dumb baby omega! Thought you could pretend to be a beta and everything!” she brushes a stand of hair from Y/N’s face condescending, “No, you’re my mate and I’ve known from the second I saw you,”

Her eyes go wide as Wanda dips her head down and brushes her nose against Y/N’s scent glades. A small growl slips from Wanda’s lips and every hair on Y/N’s body stands up, causing her to whine.

“I’m going to burn whatever fake scent you use. And it you ever take a fucking scent blocker again, I’ll spank your pretty ass ‘til you can’t sit right for a month,” Wanda growls.

“Y-yes ma’am! I’m sor-sorry!” Y/N squeaks.

“You will be,”

Y/N lets out a shriek as Wanda picks her up and throws her over her shoulder.

“Hey! What are you doing?” Y/N asks, her tone sounding meek.

“Going to wash off that fucking beta scent! I wanna smell your scent when I pump you full with my pups,”

“Mommyyy,” Y/N moans, her grip tightening on Wanda’s shoulders.

The tile in the bathroom is cold against Y/N’s bare feet. Wanda presses her against the wall; her lips a breath away from Y/N’s.

“I’m trying so hard to restrain myself, because I wanna fuck you for the first time in a bed, but you’re making it really hard, malyshka,” Wanda whispers, her lips dipping to hover over the scent glad on Y/N’s neck.

Y/N lets out a breathy moan; squeezing her thighs together as Wanda’s nose nuzzles against her scent gland.

“Your scent is finally pecking through those damned scent blockers,” Wanda voices, “Now let’s wash the rest off,”

The cool air chills Y/N’s skin as Wanda pulls the shirt off her, leaving her bare. Her nipples pebble into stiff peaks and the shorts quickly follow the shirt to its place on the ground. Y/N wants to touch her so bad, but doesn’t want to anger her. Wanda’s eyes don’t leave her as she turns the shower on.

“Listen carefully,” Wanda turns her fingers up Y/N’s arms, barely touching them, “You’re gonna get in the shower and get nice and clean, and I’m gonna go get a few things. You aren’t gonna touch yourself of put on any more scent blockers, then you’re going to dry off and go wait in bed,”

“Do-Don’t want you to leave,” Y/N pouts, practically shaking with need.

Wanda gently rubs her thumb over Y/N’s bottom lip before connecting them with hers. Y/N melts into the kiss; hands coming up to brace herself on Wanda’s shoulder. She whines when Wanda pulls away.

“I’ll be right back. Be a good little omega and do as your told,”

Wanda leaves the door cracked behind her and Y/N lets in a shaky breath from getting the shower. The cool water is a shock to her system and she quickly washes her body. Her skin is hypersensitive and she struggles to hold back whimpers as she washes her scent glands.

After turning the water off, she dries off with a fluffy towel Wanda must have left for her. Y/N wraps the towel around herself before tip-toeing back into the bedroom. The room is empty and she sits on the edge of the bed, apprehension building in her.

The temporary relief Wanda’s calming pheromones brought disappears and the intense pain continues. Y/N leaves back in the bed, gripping the sheets and pressing her feet into the mattress. Her whines fill the room and all she wants is Wanda’s knot deep inside her, breeding her.

“Fuck, malyshka, you’re so beautiful,” Wanda practically moans from the door.

Wanda’s holding a bundle of different sweatshirts, blankets, and t-shirts.

“Wh-what’s that?” Y/N asks.

“I brought you a few things for your nest, baby,”

“Want you now though, Mommy,” she whines.

“One second, luvie, I gotta get your cozy nest set up,” Wanda explains, arranging the different things on the bed.

Y/N bucks her hips and moans at the intense scent of her mate around her.

“Mommy hurryyy need you so bad!”

“All done, baby,” Wanda soothes, straddling Y/N’s hips. Y/N’s shaky hands come up and tug at Wanda’s pants.

“Need you now, Mommy!”

“I know luvie, but Mommy’s just gotta taste her sweet baby first,” Wanda croons, sliding down her body.

Wanda growls at the sight of her omega’s dripping pussy. She licks fromm her dripping whole to throbbing clit.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have waited so long to do this,” Wanda groans, “You’re such a good omega, you would have spread your legs for me that first night, wouldn’t you have?”

“Uh huh, Mommy! Just for you!”

The vibrations of Wanda’s chuckle ripple through Y/N and cause the knot in her core to grow. Wanda lips attach to her clit and her moans fill the room. Her hands fly down, lacing in Wanda’s hair and presses her further into her pussy.

“Oh my god that feels so good Mommy, so sensitive!” Y/N moans.

Wanda doesn’t give any warning before slipping two fingers into her, filling her to the brim. Y/N bucks her hips up, desperate for me.

“Mommy pleaseee, need you in me so bad!”

“What part of me, malyshka?” Wanda asks innocently, “My fingers? My tongue? Or is there something else you want? Use you words,”

The fog in Y/N’s head grows with how desperate she is, and she struggles to form the words.

“Fuck, Mommy, need your cock! Need your cock in me so bad! Need you to bread my and knot me and fuck me so good!” Y/N blabbers.

“Good girl,” Wanda croons, her eyes glowing red. Her clothes disappear and she straddles her again in a second, her hard cock lined up with Y/N’s dripping entrance.

Y/N wrapped her legs around Wanda’s hips, bringing her lips up to suck on one of Wanda’s perky, hard nipples. Wanda moans and thrusts into Y/N a little too fast. Y/N whines at the intense stretch and sucks harder.

“I know, malyshka, Mommy’s cock is so much bigger that your little baby omega pussy,” Wanda croons condescending, “You’re gonna take every inch like the good little girl you are, though,” Y/N give’s Wanda’s hair a little tug in response.

By the time Wanda is halfway in, Y/N is squirming and quivering. She finally lets go of Wanda’s nipple.

“Want your pups so bad, Mommy! Want you to breed me!” Y/N cries, spasming with pleasure and need.

“I know, baby, Mommy’s gonna fill up your pretty pussy so good; gonna make you all pretty and round!” Wanda voices, thrusting her hips forward so another inch goes in, “You aren’t so shy anymore, are you baby? All you needed was Mommy’s cock stretching you out to start talking!”

“Mommy,” Y/N whimpers as Wanda bottoms out.

“I know,” Wanda repeats, dipping her head to the crock of Y/N’s neck.

Wanda inhales deeply and moans.

“Can’t believe you hide your scent from me for so long, malyshka! You smell heavenly. Like fucking carmel and chocolate,” Wanda moans, licking Y/N’s scent glad. Y/N mewls at the sensation, squeezing around Wanda.

“Gonna cum, Mommy!”

“Cum for me, baby,”

Y/N falls over the edge, stars dancing in her vision. Her chest comes off the bed and the sounds she makes are unrecognizable. A scream escapes her as Wanda’s fangs pierce her neck. Her hands move to Wanda’s back, digging in and drawing blood. Wanda sucks on the tender wound and continues thrusting her hips as Y/N comes down from her high. The solidified bond is overwhelming. Wanda’s scent becomes even more overwhelming and Y/N can feel the pleasure she’s feeling, making her even more sensitive.

“Mo-Mommy?” Y/N stutters weakly, her orgasm still stringing out.

“Yes, my luv?” Wanda responds gently.

“Want you to cum, Mommy! Please cum in me,”

“Oh baby,” Wanda moans.

Every vein and ridge sets Y/N on faster as Wanda’s thrust quickens, hitting every sensitive spot in her.

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god,” Y/N sobs, tears of pleasure slipping down her cheeks, “Fuck, feels so go-good!”

“Mommy’s gonna cum down, malyshka,” Wanda pants, “Gonna fill you up so good,” Wanda’s knot starts growing, stretching her mate out even more.

“Can fe- ohhh feel it, Mommy!”

Y/N’s wall squeezes around her, and that’s all Wanda needs to fall over the edge. Her hot cum warms Y/N and she can feel it in every inch of her body. Wanda can’t take her eyes off Y/N’s absolutely wrecked face though. Her head is thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, and mouth in an ‘O’ shape. Wanda lowers her head and kisses her check, then her lips, her other check, each eyelid, her forehead, and makes her way back down to her lips as Emiy comes down from her extended high.

“How are you feeling, malyshka?” Wanda asks softly.

“Warm…and full and so good” Y/N sighs contently.

“I’m glad, luvie,” Wanda smiles, gently flipping them so Y/N is on top.

Y/N moans softly as Wanda’s cock shifts deeper with the new position. Her alpha strokes her back.

“I love you, Mommy,” she mumbles dreamily.

“I love you too, malyshka,”

Taglist:

@liidiaaag

@flourishandblotts-inc

@aagn360

@smromanoff

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prentissluvr · 1 year ago

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two mugs, half empty — luke alvez

pairing : luke alvez x bau!gn!reader (can be read as platonic or romantic) ➖⟢ genre : hurt/comfort ➖⟢ cw : feelings of guilt and shame, nightmare mentions, talk of canon typical violence, crying ➖⟢ wc : 2.8K

“you look like hell.”

“wow, thank you, luke. way to compliment somebody,” you deadpan, even though he said it with a voice full of empathy. he gives you a good-natured roll of his eyes before his face returns to that concerned look you opened your apartment door to.

“but seriously, did you sleep at all over the weekend?” you want to hate how much he cares about you, but the sincerity of his voice has you nearly ready to cave.

“come in,” you offer, completely ignoring his question because the answer is “no, not really.” he raises his eyebrows at your lack of response, but steps in after you anyways. he can guess the answer well enough from the exhaustion evident in your whole figure.

you sit down with him in the kitchen, grabbing him a glass of water before he can say no to it. his gaze on you is heavy, but you ignore it in favor of examining the wood of the table in front of you. since you won’t say anything, he goes first.

“i came to check on you,” he states the obvious, “i’m– we’re kinda worried about you, you know? like, you haven’t responded to any of my texts all day and you never call in sick, even when you probably should, so i figured you’d probably be bedridden for you to make the choice to stay home.” he pauses for a long moment, as if inviting for you to explain why you’re, in fact, not bedridden, and not really physically sick at all. you don’t say a word. “so,” he prompts, “what’s up? why’d you turn down drinks with the rest of the team on saturday? kinda feels like you’re avoiding us.”

“i am avoiding you guys,” your voice comes out far quieter than you intended. you had wanted to sound nonchalant, and all you got was exhaustion. you sigh before continuing, “because you’re profilers and i don’t want to talk about it.” he sighs too.

“if it’s so bad that you went to the lengths to call off sick from work to avoid talking about it, it seems to me like it’s something you should talk about.”

you turn your head even further from him because you know he’s right. you’ve been holed up in your apartment, agonizing over what happened three nights ago, desperate to scream and cry about it to someone else. god knows you’ve done enough of that with yourself, but you’re reverting to old habits and it feels like you’re back to only knowing how to avoid, avoid, and keep avoiding.

“listen, i don’t want to push you, but i need you to know that i’m here for you.” his hand hovers over yours for a moment, silently asking permission before gently wrapping his fingers around yours. you clench your jaw and bite the inside of your cheek to keep tears from forming in your eyes. honestly, you didn’t think you could produce anymore, but here you are, trying not to cry in front of your coworker turned close friend whom you’ve probably upset by ignoring him.

luke gains a little bit of hope when you squeeze his hand. he squeezes back, hoping you feel the love and care that he puts into it. you do, and it doesn’t help your case with the whole crying ordeal.

“thanks,” you whisper. the thickness in your voice completely gives you away. tilting your head up to try to stop the flow of tears is plain old silly at this point, and he watches with a weight heavy on his heart as they overflow and fall down your cheeks. the tears catch in the light of the only lamp that’s turned on in the room. “fuck. goddammit,” you curse through the tears, well aware they won’t stop anytime soon. “luke,” you cry.

“i’m here,” he replies so earnestly without missing a beat that you begin to cry harder. that’s the last straw for him. quickly, he stands and wraps you up in his arms without a second thought. with you sitting, your face barely reaches his chest, and your arms reach around his lower torso. he’s got one hand rubbing up and down your back, the other cradling the back of your head into him. the way you hold onto him is desperate and breaks his heart, but he’s glad to give you something that you so clearly need. comfort.

“i–,” you try to explain, but you can’t get anywhere before choking on your own sobs.

“shhh, it’s okay. just let it out. i’m not going anywhere.” and he sticks to that promise, standing strong and unwavering, even after your tears run out and you can’t find it in yourself to pull away from him just yet. he doesn’t force a thing, just strokes the back of your head gently as a silent reminder that he’s there.

when you finally pull away, it’s only by a few inches, and he keeps his hands right where they are. he looks down at your face as you stare at the maroon fabric of his shirt and the tear stain you left behind. slowly, as if to not startle you, he bends down to be closer to your level. at first, you avoid meeting his eyes, but when the hand on your shoulder shifts up to your cheek and he gently wipes at the leftover tears, you let your gaze meet his. he gives you a smile, small and comforting, before speaking softly.

“i’m gonna make you some tea, alright?”

when you nod, his hands slide away from you, hesitant to let you go. your gaze follows his form as he turns and walks to the counter behind you, first grabbing your favorite mug from the cabinet and taking the liberty to grab one for himself too. then he’s at the pantry for the tea bags and he can feel your eyes on him. once the tea bags are on the counter, he’s by your side again. he gives you another soft smile as he grips the sides of your chair and turns it and you to face the counter. somehow luke just knows that him staying in your line of sight is a comfort to you, proof that he’s right there. he doesn’t want you to have to strain your neck in order to feel safe.

his silence as he fills and turns on the kettle, then sits back down beside you to wait for it to boil is a comfort too. it makes a difference that he’s not making you explain anything.

with him, the passage of time isn’t so horrible, and it’s easy to wait for the tea to be ready. when he sets the mug down in front of you, he tells you to be careful since it’s hot, even though you already know it. that’s when you make the decision that you will tell him what’s kept you holed up in your apartment for three days straight, what made you cry into his arms and skip work today.

it takes you four minutes of failed attempts to open your mouth and force a sound out of your throat before you finally get any words out. four minutes of sipping tea and thinking about how to start or how grateful you are that he’s here.

first comes a big, deep breath and another long moment of quiet. and then you realize you can’t just get into you, so you do your best and start by skirting around the actual problem.

“i know this job–” you have to clear your throat, “i know this job is really hard.” that sentence is kind of stupid purely because of how obvious it is, but you’ve at least started to tell him what this is all about. “and we’ve all learned ways to cope with that. i just– the way that, uh,” you pause to try and collect yourself a bit, but it does nothing to keep your voice from getting quiet, “the way that this last case ended? it, um, it…” suddenly you’re unsure what to even say. luke places his hand over your own, easing its shaking. you take another deep breath.”i can’t– i can’t get it out of my head. i can’t get her dead body out of my head and i can’t shake the feeling that it’s my fault.”

he’s about to say something, assure you that it absolutely was not your fault, but then everything comes tumbling out.

“i know, logically, technically, that it’s not. i know that, i’ve rationalized this whole thing in my head, even out loud, over and over and over again for the past three days. i know, we didn’t profile him to be so paranoid. i played into his narcissism like i was supposed to, like anyone of us would have, but fuck! it was still my words that set him off, the shit i said got a bullet through her brain.” he squeezes your hand in support. “and when i wake up from the nightmares, i can still hear her whimpers as he held her at gunpoint, even worse, arguably, is her mom begging me to bring her home alive that same morning. you know what i told her? that we were doing everything we could to find her and bring her back, i promised.” the tears start up again. “i told her not to give up hope because the people i work with are incredibly good at their jobs. then i see her sobbing in the corner of the police station after rossi told her that her daughter was fucking dead. and you know what i fucking did? i put my head down and walked in the opposite direction with the excuse that reid could use some help taking down the evidence board.”

your voice gets even shakier and the furrow in his worried brow deepens as you continue talking. “and i’m so ashamed, i’m so fucking ashamed, luke. i got her daughter killed and i couldn’t even tell her that–” a sob cuts you off, “that i’m sorry,” you cry. “i couldn’t face her. i couldn’t bear to see her crying about it or try and comfort her about it because i was too goddamn guilty to even look her in the eye. and now i see her and her dead daughter everytime i close my eyes.”

the silence after that is colossally heavy. to hear his softest voice calling your name as you stare into your half empty mug is enough to send more tears rushing down your cheeks. he sounds so heartbroken for you, like even he’s choked up by hearing your longwinded confession.

the way he moves is both careful and purposeful as he stands and urges you back into his embrace. this time your crying is quiet, just tears without sobs because you don’t have that left in you. it’s more short lived because it seems like your body’s finally run out of tears to give too. with one side of your face pressed against his shirt and his hands holding you there, it does feel a bit easier to breathe.

when he starts to talk, his voice is as soft as it has been all night. “i don’t want to tell you to just not feel ashamed or guilty. i wish you wouldn’t have to feel that way, really. but i want you to know that i understand. i don’t want to invalidate those things because they are real and they hurt and i understand why you’re feeling them. but it is not your fault. not for one second is it your fault. i’m sure you’ve reminded yourself this already, but we can never forget that it is only ever the fault of the people who pull the trigger on innocent lives.”

you nod because he’s right, you’ve told yourself that many times. but you realize it makes a difference to hear these things out of his mouth, not just from your mind that was only desperate to ease your guilt. you suppose that’s what he wants too, but it’s somehow better.

he pulls away from you, and positions the chairs so that you’re sitting knee to knee as he holds both of your hands in his. he looks you in the eye as he speaks, every ounce of sincerity visible in his face and easy to hear in his voice.

“and we just can’t be perfect, we can’t be expected to be everything for everyone every time. dealing with family members who have lost their loved ones is one of, if not the, hardest thing that we have to do for this job. rossi was there for her this time, and it’s okay if it was too hard for you. what you did is completely understandable and completely okay. throughout this whole case, you followed procedure and you followed the profile. we all did. so if any of us stood where you did, with the mother and with the unsub, the same exact same thing could have happened. would you blame me for it if i were in your place?” he gently wipes a stray tear from your cheek.

slowly, with his hand still cupping your face, you shake your head. “and would you forgive me for it?” it takes you a long moment of holding back more cries to answer, silently and slowly again. up and down, just once, you nod your head.

“there’s your answer. you’re allowed to not blame yourself and you’re allowed to forgive yourself. you are allowed to feel okay because we can’t fix this world, but we are making it better and we certainly deserve our own happiness. there will always be people who die and the people they leave behind. we just have to keep going because we are still saving lives. even more, our lives deserve to be protected as much as anyone else’s. we do that by allowing ourselves happiness, a life outside of all of the pain and gore and monsters of the world we work in. i’m sorry, and the things i say can’t make this all just go away. but i’m here for you and i think that being reminded of these things is a must for all of us. today’s one of those days where you deserve to be reminded.”

you don’t even think you could really cry again, even if you wanted to, but you certainly feel like it. only this time, it’s out of relief. your guilty conscience still tries to fight with his words, but the part of you that knows he’s right is holding onto his comfort with all it’s got and it’s making you want to burst into tears again. being reminded of your right to let it go is something you’ve needed, not just for this case, but for months. you didn’t even realize, but you’ve holding onto little things here and there and letting it build up until it all blew up in your face last friday night. so to let that all out and feel comforted is a relief far stronger than anything you’ve felt before.

“thank you.” your voice is back at a whisper, but you hope he can hear how much you mean it. you think he does when he smiles.

“of course. you’ll always have me, and you have everyone else on the team too, you know that.”

you nod and do your best to smile back. “thank you,” you repeat. you don’t even know what else to say. “and um, i’m always here for you too, luke. you know, just when i’m not a complete hot mess.” the lighter tone in your voice as you attempt a joke is luke’s relief, the relief that you’re on the way to feeling better.

“thanks,” he chuckles lightly. the sound makes you glad.

“hey luke?”

“yeah?” he replied in earnest, eager to give.

“can we order some thai food and watch movies until we fall asleep on the couch?”

that really makes him happy, and he grins like he always does to show it. “you know it.” so, he buys you food and tells you to pick all the movies. he lets you lean on him when you get tired, then carries you to bed and tucks you in when you fall asleep halfway through the first film. he stalls in your room by fixing the hair the falls onto your face and pressing a light kiss to your forehead. then he leaves the door cracked, just in case, and takes a while to fall asleep on your couch after putting the leftovers in the fridge. he cries a little, because he hates that it’s so hard for you, and it’s hard for him too.

at the end of the day though, he’s just glad you’ll be okay.

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pablitogavii · 2 years ago

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i need a gavi imagine. You guys are kind of swimming together and he looks at you in a bikini the whole time he gets a boner and wants the reader's attention but she decides to tease and ignore him. He is horny all day and he presses his cock to her butt but she ignores him and goes to pedri. 2 hours later he goes into the bathroom and masturbates but the reader bursts in at the moment he cums. reader just smiles and leaves. at night the reader feels gavi bucking his leg and sucking her breasts. then both have you know what.

thanks

I'll change it up a little bit but hope you still like it :)

It was finally a weekend off for the Barça players, and you all made plans to go to the beach together, all the players and their girlfriends.

You and Pablo are the youngest relationship (plus youngest people) so it was a little nerve wrecking to meet all the girlfriends for you.

First challenge was choosing the right bikini...you had so many but none of them suddenly looked good enough. Ugh! You knew how much Pablo loved to see you in red, so you chose one of the newest red bikini you received in a PR package.

"Are you ready amor?" Pablo called as you put on a white cover up dress and grabbed your beach bag joining him downstairs in the kitchen.

"Yes, I am. You packed the snacks and drinks?" you ask but he was too busy looking at your body to reply until you walked up to him and raised his chin up to face you.

"Yeah..all the drinks are in the cooler. And snacks are here. I added extra ice too" Pablo finally replied and you gave him a mischievous smirk wondering how he will react when he sees the bikini if he was getting so distracted with your dress...

Pedri and his girlfriend picked you two up and you drove to the nearby beach where you met with the others. Everyone was there enjoying some relaxing time while chatting and joking around.

"I wanna go swimming! It's freaking hot here!" Ansu said after barely fifteen minutes and all the boys immediately agreed having too much energy to sit in one place.

You girls on the other hand were drinking your cocktails and chatting so you decided to join a little later. You got up to take off your dress because it was truly too hot to sit in it and you wanted to get a tan while you were there.

Pablo was taking off his shirt getting ready to join the boys when he saw the res bikini hugging your body so perfectly that his knees got weak at the sight of you.

"Put some sunscreen on your face, amor" you remind him smirking when you saw that he was checking your out from head to toe. You purposefully bended down to get the sunscreen from your bag giving him a perfect view of your ass. Boy was enjoying himself adjusting his shorts as you got back up.

"Here you go.." you tease noticing his growing bulge and he took the cream but grabbing your wrist as well pulling you in to whisper something in your ear.

"Tu bikini me está volviendo loco, amor.' [Your bikini is driving me crazy, love] he whispered into your ear and you moved away only pecking his lips when he wanted a long make-out session instead so he groaned in frustration.

"GO play with the boys, amor..I'll see you later ;)" you wink at him and he clenched his jaw walking away but still turning to catch one las glance of you before getting into the ocean.

"Your bikini is gorgeous girl!" Ansu's girlfriend complimented and you smiled sitting down besides her grabbing your drink and joining the conversation.

Pablo certainly thinks so...you thought to yourself mischievously thinking to yourself how much you want to tease your boyfriend today.

After about half an hour, you girls got hot too so you decided to join the boys in the water. As you walked towards the ocean, Pablo was quick to notice and open his arms inviting your to swim to him which you gladly did.

The cold water on your hot skin felt heavenly, and when you finally arrived to Pablo, his arms gripped your thighs and snaked them around his waist so he can hold you against himself.

"Hi Pablito..did you miss me?" you smirk feeling his boner against yourself wiggling a little and causing his hands to grip your ass as his lips found your neck. He could care less that you were in public and that all his friends were around..he wanted you so bad since he saw that bikini!

"Behave..we are not alone" you remind him but he still keeps sucking on your neck until you finally pull away from him completely receiving a frustrated groan. The rest of the crew joined and you were joking around once again talking about anything that came to mind.

Pablo on the other hand was very quiet which was unusual to everyone but you knew the reason behind it the moment his hands snaked your torso and he rubbed his bulge against your bum in the water making sure nobody else can notice it.

"Alright, Imma go tan" you say suddenly and Pablo pouted as you swam away deciding to join you knowing that you can finally be alone for a moment.

You were laying on your stomach your bum in the air tanning your back when a cold hand rested on your cheek making you quickly turn to ensure it was indeed Pablo. When you saw his smirking face you smiled putting your face back down while he kept massaging your ass shamelessly.

"Amor?" he breaks the silence feeling so horny that he could nut in a seconds if you touch him.

"Hm?" you say waiting to hear more of his boyish whining that amused you right now.

"It's boring here...maybe we should go home and do something else?" he suggested and you knew really well why he so desperately wanted to go home all of the sudden. A simple glance to his swim trunks gave you a sufficient answer...he was painfully hard now.

"What else would you wanna do amor?" you play dumb knowing pretty well what he wanted right now but enjoyed teasing him too much to stop.

"You...come on..I'm so horny as fuck

right now" he laid next to you moving his fingers downy our back to your bum while whispering in your ear and you smirked widely.

"You need to learn how to control yourself Pablito...don't be so impatient" you say turning around with that infamous smirk on your lips and he could tell you were enjoying this little torture he's going through right now.

Before he could kiss you and convince you otherwise, one of the girlfriends came back so he excused himself to the bathroom not really interested for anyone but you to see his boner.

"What's up with footballers, are they always horny?" you joke and the girl laughs nodding her head while drying her hair with a towel.

"Yes they are! It's crazy! It'll just get worse, you wait" she said and you rolled your eyes smirking a little to yourself curious to what Pablo was doing in the bathroom for so long...you knew the answer.

"What will get worse?" Ferran joined and she smirked telling him as well and he kissed the back on her neck which was a signal for me to leave and go look for Pablo.

You heard low groans coming from one of the cabins and you could recognize those from a mile away. You carefully snuck inside waiting a few seconds before entering seeing his shocked face with his hard cock between his hand and your dress against his nose.

You smirked coming closer seeing his load spill onto his hand before leaning down and capturing your lips...even when he wasn't with you, he still used your smell to get him off..he was special for sure.

"I'm glad you feel better amor.." you kissed him while "accidentally" brushing your breast against his exposed cock which made the whole thing useless and he was hard once again as you left with a wink.

This is going to be a long day for poor Pablito..

At night, when you finally got back home from the beach, taking your showers and unpacking the bags, you laid in bed together and you noticed Pablo fidgeting next to you.

You expected him to kiss you or so something but when he didn't you smirked turning your back to him and whispered a quick "goodnight". Pablo couldn't sleep, especially with a painful hard on in his boxers, so he just sat there for a few minutes hoping it would disappear but ofc it didn't.

He then laid back down moving closer to you and rubbing his bulge on your ass while his hand went underneath his t-shirt you wore to bed and started massaging your breast causing light moans to escape your mouth.

"Amooor...I've been patient..but I really need you to help me out right now.." he whispered and you started to grind your ass against his cock in a response before turning around in his hold facing his lustful eyes.

You kissed his lips and he deepened the kiss letting his tongue explore your mouth before you pushed him to lay on his back and got up on your elbow.

"Lay back and enjoy amor.." you said seductively to his smirking face before kissing from his lips to his neck, down his naked chest and taking off his briefs before giving him the release he desperately needed. ;))

Hope you liked!

#pablo gavi icons #pablo gavi x you #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi #gavigif #gavi #fc barça #fc barcelona #fc barca

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bullet-prooflove · 1 month ago

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Kinktober 2024: Into The Woods - Jack Dayton x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @soultrysworld @kmc1989 @livingonthehems @tess-love @mandy426

Companion piece to:

Madness of a Genius - Jack notices you're the only one not paying attention during a donor event.

The First Time (NSFW) - Jack reveals his secret during your first time together.

Fucked Up - You and Jack each have your own special brand of fucked up.

French - You and Jack share an intimate moment at an event.

The Professor (NSFW) - Jack and you share an intimate moment in your office.

Different (NSFW) - You and Jack are a little different from normal people.

For your six month anniversary Jack takes you away for a weekend in a luxury cabin. It’s a secluded space in the middle of nowhere, miles away from civilisation. The perfect place for the digital detox he so badly needs.

“I’ve always had this fantasy.” You tell Jack as you stand in front of the floor to ceiling windows, staring into the trees outside. “Of being about being chased through the woods.”

“Maybe we can make that come true.” Jack whispers into you ear, his arms wrapping around your waist. “I know how much you like being caught…”

You play a game sometimes back in the city, you’ll snag something of Jack’s, something he usually needs at the time like his watch or tie and he’ll have to find a way to get it back. Your cheeks always get a little flush, your eyes a little bright as you try to evade him and when he catches you…

Well those are the days he goes to work with the taste of you still lingering on his lips.

Before you play Jack makes sure to set some boundaries. You have to wear something white so he can see you against the darkness, and you have to take the path that leads down towards the lake, he doesn’t want you getting lost or hurt in the woods.

The goal is to get to the lake before he gets to you.

He’ll give you a thirty second head start.

It’s warm outside so you dress for the occasion. You wear a light, gauzy sundress that flutters in the breeze and already his cock is straining in his jeans because you’ve decided to forgo a bra. He can see the silhouette of your nipples under the white material, his gaze strays lower and he can see that little dark triangle between your legs and his cock starts to leak.

“No panties.” He says as he sets the timer on his watch. “You are a naughty girl Professor.”

You give him that sultry smile of yours before he presses the button on his watch.

“Go.”

You’re off like a shot, bolting into the woods and every single nerve ending in his body screams at him to follow. His senses heighten, his instincts kick in, he’s chomping at the bit because you, you are far too tempting even when you’re not in flight. He gives you twenty seconds before he takes off after you.

The thing that he loves most about the game you play back in Chicago?

It’s the chase.

There’s an exhilaration in it, a thrill that courses through his body as lopes after you, catching a flash of white through the trees.

You don’t realise how close he is until his arm encircles your waist, hurling you against him. You let out a filthy laugh as he clasps you close, burying his face into the curve of your throat, nipping at that space just underneath the curve of your jaw.

“You still into this?” He asks you as he traps you between a tree and his firm, unrelenting body. His hand pins your wrists above your head, your ass tucking perfectly against his hips as your cheek grazes the bark.

“I swear to God, if you don’t fuck me right now…” Your words are cut off as he bites down on your shoulder, giving way to a heady moan. He unfastens his jeans, shoving them down his hips, thrusting inside of you, hard, fast, deep and the noise you make, it obliterates him completely.

“Fuck, I love you.” He whispers into your skin, his free hand threading through your hair, pulling at the roots. “Love that you’re into this just as much as I am.”

You’re on the cusp, Jack can feel it and it makes him all the more feral because he needs you to get off on his cock, he needs to hear you scream out his name into the stars so that even God All Mighty knows just how good he fucks you.

“Say my name Amélie.” He hisses into your ear as your cunt grips him so tightly that it sends him hurtling over the edge with you. “Say my fucking name.”

Love Jack? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#jack dayton #jack dayton x reader #chicago med

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enbysiriusblack · 9 days ago

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"This is stupid", Peter huffed, kicking a stone across the ground as he glanced over to James.

Sirius wrapped an arm around his shoulders, "Way to be supportive, mate", he pushed Peter over to James.

Sirius glanced over to Remus, still a few feet from the others, walking over slowly, as he was engrossed in a book.

Sirius ran over and snatched the book, tucking it under his arm.

"Hey!" Remus complained, trying to grab his book back.

Sirius began to walk by his side, "We're here for James, not to study for Charms."

Remus huffed, but conceded, sitting down on the short brick wall that James was currently ducking behind.

It was a Hogsmeade weekend, but they had trekked away from the shops once James heard about Lily's date.

James pitifully sighed, staring as Lily happily chatted to Amos in the distance.

Sirius hit his shoulder affectionately, "Come on, James", he began to grin widely, "Buck up."

The four boys proceeded to burst out in laughter at Sirius' deer pun, the noise catching Lily's attention from across the field.

Once she had caught sight, she immediately ditched Amos to storm over to them.

"What on earth are you doing here?"

"It's a Hogsmeade weekend", Sirius gestured around them, "So we're in Hogsmeade."

Lily huffed, "And you four decided to come to the hookup spot because you realised your dysfunctional friendship wasn't as platonic as you thought?"

Sirius grinned, "Exactly! Come here, Pete!"

He smacked his lips against Peter’s cheek, the other boy not quite resisting at all.

James stood up fully, "You're on a date with Amos", he commented, "Y'know he's a git?"

Lily turned away from Sirius, who was now in some sort of play fight with Peter, "You're the git, Potter. And yes, I am on a date, so I'd really rather you lot leave."

Remus glanced over her shoulder, "Your date's coming over, Lily."

Lily swirled around to see Amos heading straight for them, and swirled back in a sort of panic.

"Okay, uh, don't be a prick, please!"

James frowned, seeing the usually suave and confident Lily become a stuttering mess. He recognised the sudden change easily- in himself.

"Lily?" Amos smiled, "Oh, Hi, lads. What you lot doing down here?"

"Hooking up with each other according to Evans", Sirius barked a laugh, in the middle of a thumb war with Peter a few feet away.

"Ah", Amos frowned in confusion.

"Well, we should probably get back", Lily tucked her hair behind her ears, swinging her arms in a strange way before noticing it and quickly folding them against her chest- her face bright red.

"Right", Amos nodded, "Bye", he addressed the four boys.

Only Remus replied, giving him a polite wave.

"Wait!", James jumped over the wall with ease, "Amos uh", he nervously glanced to Lily's growing angry expression, "Lily's special. I just mean she's one of the best people I know, she's smart, talented, confident, honest, beautiful, creative. Just, she deserves the best so. Make sure you give it to her."

Lily stared at James in suprise, looking at him as if she had just noticed something about him she hadn't seen before.

"Oh, well", Amos shrugged, "It's just the first date, mate. We'll see how it goes."

As the two began to walk off, Lily couldn't help glancing over her shoulder to look at James.

James proceeded to climb back over the wall, and drop to the ground.

"She's in love with Amos diggory."

"How do you know that?" Remus asked, moving from the wall to the ground in solidarity.

"She acted like I do around her."

Sirius ran back over, chucking Remus his book back and sitting on James' other side. Peter followed suit just behind Sirius.

"Maybe you should move on... if she's into someone else", Peter shrugged.

Sirius groaned, "Absolutely not, Pete."

He grabbed James' arm, pulling him up a bit and making him look at Lily and Amos' retreating forms, Lily still looking back around every few seconds.

Sirius grinned, "She keeps looking back, mate."

#jily #marauders era #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #lily evans #my writing

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sweetkpopmusings · 1 year ago

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minho coworker headcanons <3

a/n: how could i ever even describe how fond i am of minho ?? he is so silly and weird and i'd protect him at all costs <333 as my job has been less than desirable for a long time, these coworkers hcs bring me soooo much comfort, and i hope they provide the same kind of serotonin for you !! pics not mine~

content: fluff, nonidol!au | wc: 0.9k | warnings: none! | pairing: coworker!minho x gn!reader | requests: open

almost everyone in the office is scared of him

you two never crossed paths because you work in different departments, so the only things you knew about him were what coworkers told you

the first time you saw him was when you went into a quiet place in the office to watch some videos and take a mental break from work

he was hiding in that very place because he had been reprimanded by his supervisor for a project (his partner on it was the one who dropped the ball but just so happened to be “sick” that day) and minho needed to collect himself before going back to his desk

that’s how you caught the scariest guy in the office looking at pictures of his beloved cats

when he noticed you, he tried to play it cool and act annoyed, but you saw the tips of his ears turn red as he realized you saw him being super soft for his precious cats

reading the room, you asked “rough day?” and the genuine concern in your voice completely melted minho’s scary facade away

he scoffed, rolled his eyes, and answered “yeah. gotta love being someone else’s fall guy”

that sparked a conversation that included him showing off his cats to you, and you showing him the silly little videos you were watching to boost your mood

slowly but surely, minho would seek you out whenever he wanted a friendly conversation

you were the only person in the office he didn’t try to intimidate, and everyone else was in complete awe of this

especially when they saw you two doing word/logic puzzles at work during your breaks

he even bought one of those massive puzzle books so you two could use it

whenever your lunches didn’t line up, you’d leave each other teasing and/or encouraging notes in the margins of the pages

that book became a conversational record between you two

he’d never admit it, but, sometimes, when minho was feeling sentimental, he’d look through old pages and laugh at how your notes got more and more ridiculous as you two got more and more comfortable with each other :,-)

you become the minho translator because you just know him so well uwu

like if you two are sitting together during a coffee break and a coworker asks about weekend plans, minho would give a vague answer about interdimensional travel

before your coworker’s brain goes into overdrive trying to decode the statement, you’d explain, “he’s going to the animated film festival this weekend”

your coworker nods and silently leaves after getting their coffee, completely unaware of the snort minho let out at your translation

minho, despite befriending you, does not let go of his scary persona

in fact, because he’s so fond of you, he’ll use it to protect you

if someone bad mouths your quality of work or makes a snide remark about you in general, minho responds in a way that gives them nightmares for weeks

he never tells you that he does that, but you do catch him smirking whenever one of the perpetrators is nicer to you in the office >:-)

he’s super supportive of you at work too !!

he’s your number one advocate when it comes to asking for a raise, applying for a promotion, etc.

minho thinks you deserve the best, and he’ll fight tooth and nail himself to get that for you, even though he knows you are more than capable of achieving greatness yourself

he thinks so highly of your skills and talent, and he wants to make sure you recognize your own potential <3

if he’s feeling insecure or down because of work or poor interactions with coworkers, he’ll turn to you for support, even if he doesn’t directly admit that something’s bothering him

he could make a joke like “ah, how’re you going to solve this crossword if i get fired?”

obviously, you’d know exactly what he means by that and say “if you’re getting fired, i’m quitting because firing such a smart and competent employee is a major red flag”

he’d tease, “wow, you’re really dedicated to crossword puzzles”

you’d nod, and he’d smile softly because he knew that you were always going to be his rock at work, and he’s eternally grateful for that

minho is so selective with the people he lets close to him, and, since you passed the test, he wants you two to be close outside of the office too

it takes him a while to work up the courage to invite you to hangout after work

but, when he’s throwing a casual dinner party with his friends, he knows it’s the perfect time to see each other without being bound by work schedules

you of course accept his invitation, but you also admit you’re a little nervous to meet all his friends

minho reassures you by telling you that he, a perfect and extremely cool person, has curated an impeccable group of people, so you have nothing to be worried about

and he’s totally right because all of his friends are not only super funny and kind, but they also love you !!!

and, more importantly, soonie, doongie, and dori love you <3333

every single one of his friends exposes minho for talking about you constantly lmao

minho gives them death glares but they refuse to miss out on the opportunity to tease him <3

especially chan because he thinks it’s so cute that minho is trying to act cool to impress you <3

by the end of the night, minho’s smiling ear to ear because you mesh so well with his friend group :,,,,-)

you two reference funny moments from the dinner party the next time you meet at work, and you’re both just bubbling with happiness because you can’t believe how lucky you are to have met each other by chance in a quiet corner of the office on a random afternoon <333

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sarahowritesostucky · 11 months ago

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📖"First Taste"

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Kemp x reader

Tags: doctor/patient, medical kink, body image issues, oral sex (f!rec), fingering, dub-con, pussy worship, (inference of background cannibalism (b/c it's Fresh), but nothing to do with the plot or reader)

Summary: Steve Kemp sees a new patient for a consult about a rather ... intimate procedure.

Steve gets into the office at his usual time, coffee cup in hand as he catches the elevator. He sees Cassie jogging in from across the lobby in her colorful scrubs and holds the door for her. They greet one another amicably and ask how each other’s weekend was. She tells him about her new kickboxing class, he tells her about the pâté he made on Saturday.

“Liver?” She says dubiously as the two of them enter the office. She’s wrinkling her nose and laughing at him. “You’re some kind of Chef, Kemp.”

“I prefer the term gourmand. By the way is that Barbie on your—”

“Yep.” She goes behind the nurse’s station and hands him a clipboard. “Your morning appointments. Dr. Hickory went into early labor at like four am, so you’ve got some of hers.”

Steve’s eyebrows raise as he takes the clipboard and gives it a look. “What is she, thirty-eight weeks?”

“Thirty-seven.”

“Should be fine,” he mumbles. He frowns at one of the patient slots on his clipboard. “I see I have an FGM consult at eleven,” he says, eyes flicking peevishly back up to Cassie.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” she says, checking on her computer. “Yeah, Ms. Moreau. Be nice, she’s new.”

Steve narrows his eyes at the info. “You know I’ve tried to get away from doing those anymore,” he says, giving Cassie a look. Everybody in the office knows how he has a problem with the fact that Hickory’s turned their office into such a chop shop. Steve would’ve thought a woman would know better. Female solidarity, progressiveness, autonomy, kumbaya, whatever.

Cassie rolls her eyes at him. “Yeah yeah. Dr. Brendan the activist.”

“Hey, I told you, it’s—”

“‘Pathologizing the pussy’,” she recites with finger quotes. “We know.”

“Mm,” Steve grunts, assumes the ‘we’ is in reference to all the nurses at the practice. Those girls share a level of groupthink that is frankly eerie.

Steve works in plastics. He’s a vain man himself, so he knows he shouldn’t have gotten involved in a career field like this if he wasn’t prepared to be surrounded by other people’s body insecurities 24/7. It’s just… not how he pictured it.

Good thing he’s got this new side business venture going. He’s hopeful about it. Just last month he’d been able to send in the final payment for his student loans. Pretty soon he’ll have enough to get a house. He's entertaining the idea of a custom build, still scouting properties south of Portland. “I’ll see you later,” he tells Cassie. “Send my nine o’clock to exam three when they get here.”

“You got it.”

You arrive early for your appointment, plunking yourself down in the waiting room chair after the long walk from the train. You feel unpleasantly sticky underneath the cotton of your sundress. The office is cool, but it’d been hot outside. The near-boiling summer temperatures made you work up a sweat as you made your way across the city for this appointment.

Now, sitting in the chair, you can feel the sweat that’s formed on your body. It’s at your hairline, between your breasts and at the creases of your inner thighs. You worry about it, because soon you’ll be baring yourself to the doctor and you had specifically showered right before leaving for your apartment, used a pH balanced feminine hygiene product, just in case you were somehow scent blind to your own body. You didn’t want to be sweaty and gross when Dr. Hickory was going to be looking down there.

“Miss?” The receptionist smiles at you, holding out a clipboard from over the desk. “You need to fill this out, please.”

You stand, hurrying to go get it and the pen that she offers you as well. “Sorry,” you murmur. They’d told you that you would need to be there fifteen minutes early for paperwork. You return to your chair, feeling like such a hot sweaty mess, whereas the receptionist lady is so pretty and poised. You tuck some of your blonde hair back behind your ears and cross your ankles in an attempt to be even a fraction as put together as she is, you powder blue espadrilles knocking together as you prop the clipboard on your lap.

The office’s air conditioning is making the perspiration cool to your skin now, clammy and unpleasant. You read over the intake forms and fill them out. The second page has a line drawing of a naked woman’s body, front and back. It asks you to circle the areas you’re there to address. You bite your lip and circle the drawing’s pelvis. The anxiety you tend to get creeps back up on you, but you take a deep breath and let it out. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Dr. Hickory does this all the time. It’s her speciality. She will have seen it all, and you’ll be nothing new to her.

The door to the waiting room opens and a younger woman in hot pink scrubs peeks her head through. “Ms. Moreau?” she says brightly. She has café au lait skin, wild curly hair, and a genuine smile that helps put you at ease.

“That’s me.” You stand up, the only person in the waiting room. “Obviously,” you chuckle, grabbing your purse and following after her.

“I’m Cassie,” she introduces herself. “Hop on up here and let’s get your weight.” You step on the scale backwards and open your mouth to tell her that you don’t need to know the number, but Cassie cuts you off with a wry look. “Don’t worry,” she says, thumbing at her own chest. “I know how it is, girl.”

You flush and nod, glad that you don’t have to veer into that explanation. She records your weight on her clipboard and tells you to follow her to an exam room. Inside, she hands you a painfully thin paper gown and tells you that you can change. You fidget uncomfortably. “Um, actually I wore a dress so that she could just…” you make a gesture, “ah, dive right in. Is it alright if I just stay like this?”

Cassie nods and doesn’t try to foist the paper gown on you any further. “Have a seat,” she tells you. “The doctor is just finishing up with another patient.”

“Okay,” you whisper, getting up onto the exam table. After Cassie leaves, you look around the room, taking everything in. You’ve never been in a plastic surgeon’s office before. Everything looks just like any other doctor’s office would, except that instead of posters talking about BMI and heart disease, there are advertisements for laser therapies and Botox.

You spot a tray of breast implants over on a counter and can’t stop yourself from going over to look. You pick one up and poke at it, feeling it wobble in your hand. You giggle a little, before bringing it up to hold in front of your chest. Your own breasts haven’t ever bothered you much. They’re small-ish but have a good shape. One of your exes had complimented them excessively (though other parts had received thinly-veiled criticism). You pick up another of the implants, this one bigger and more viscous, and hold the two shapes up to each of your breasts, trying to imagine what it would look like…

“I wouldn’t recommend either of those for you,” a male voice cuts in, and you nearly jump out of your skin.

You spin around. You’re still holding the implants near your chest, startled as you blink at the man who’s entered the room. He’s wearing a doctor’s coat over scrubs, and his nametag says Brendan Kemp, MD. The bigger of the two implants rolls out of your lax hand, landing with a comical ‘plop’ right by your shoe. “Oh jeez. I’m sorry!” you say in a hurry, feeling like a child who’s gotten caught doing something bad. You rush to bend down and collect the implant from the floor. “Sorry I was just—”

The man steps closer with a smirk on his lips and gleaming eyes. He seems amused at you. “Everybody wants to grab the boobies,” he says, gently taking the implants out of your hands and setting them back onto the tray on the counter. “You’re fine, Ms. Moreau.”

You blink at him, stuck in place. He knows your name. “Oh,” you say, voice hushed, still embarrassed. This doctor is very good looking. He has a commanding presence, too. Something about his eyes draws you in, makes you want to be the object of his attention. He smiles warmly at you, perfect teeth flashing for a second, and you huff at yourself and try to laugh off your foolishness. “Yeah,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. “Guess I was just curious.”

“Hey, at least you weren’t juggling them. I walked in on that, once.” He winks. “What’s your accent? French Canadian?”

“Ah, y-yeah. I’m from—” You watch as he barely listens to your answer, his eyes sliding down to the level of your chest and staying there, assessing. You flush under the scrutiny. But you don’t feel like you can move away without being rudely dismissive. You squirm, uncomfortable. “Um, I’m not—”

“I’m Dr. Kemp,” he murmurs offhandedly, still staring at your chest. You see his hands twitch, as if he’s thinking of touching, but stopping himself. “A woman with your frame wouldn’t look right with ones that big,” he says, meaning the implants you’d just been holding.

You feel the need to defend your own taste. “Oh I know that. I wasn’t—”

“These,” he says softly, taking one of the more modestly sized implants from the tray and holding it up in front of you to see. You’re caught looking more at the sight of his strong, elegant fingers than you are the implant. “These would suit you better. Though I honestly wouldn’t recommend augmentation for you.” His eyes finally return to your face. “Your breasts are lovely.”

You feel your lips part in shock. “Um…” you feel an odd combination of flattery and confusion. Is it normal for a doctor to talk to a patient like this? Maybe it’s different with plastic surgeons, you think. They are paid to focus on their patients’ looks, after all. Comments on what is and isn’t aesthetically pleasing must be par for the course, here. “Thank you?”

But then there’s his gaze, the way he stares at you. It feels like he’s not just looking at your body for his job, but also looking for himself, as well. There’s too much interest there to be purely professional. Your breath catches when you feel your nipples starting to tighten beneath your dress, and sure enough, when you glance down they’re very visible through the fabric. Shit. You see Kemp’s eyes look back down.

“Sorry,” you say in a rush, turning away from his assessing gaze. You should’ve worn a bra, you chide yourself. You try to take a deep, stabilizing breath while you have your back to him. “I’m here for… for something else.” You look down at your pebbled nipples, which aren’t softening as much as you’d like, and you sigh in defeat. No doubt Dr. Kemp has seen plenty of nipples in his day. You need to just get over it. You turn around and climb back up to sit on the exam table, the paper crinkling under your butt as you settle. “I’m just waiting for Doctor Hickory,” you explain. “For a consult. They said she’s with another patient.”

Dr. Kemp sighs and holds up his clipboard. “Actually, that’s why I’m here. I’ll be seeing you today.”

“What?” You sit up straighter, alarmed. “But…” You’d specifically sought out a woman doctor for this. The idea of a man looking critically at you, there, is mortifying. “But, but Dr. Hickory—”

“Is having a baby,” Kemp says. “She went into preterm labor this morning. But we hear everything’s going well.” He smiles at you, as if this is good news. “She’ll be out on maternity leave for at least six months.”

“...Six months,” you repeat weakly. You hadn’t even known she was pregnant. They hadn’t said a thing to you when you made the appointment. You’d been counting on her being your doctor. And now this guy, this Dr. Kemp, was stepping in? You swallow nervously, uncomfortable with a man (let alone a very, very handsome man) being your doctor. Not for this. “Um, well I…”

Dr. Kemp is already looking over your chart on his clipboard. He’s going to see what you circled, you realize, mortified. You watch helplessly as he reads all of your private details. “Dr. Kemp…” you say meekly,

“You're here for a consult for…” he reads, eyes scanning further down the page. “Oh. You’re the Labiaplasty.”

You flush bright red at the word coming from his perfect mouth. You squirm uncomfortably. “Um, well… yes.”

“Don’t worry,” he tells you, placing a hand on your knee as if in comfort. He pulls it away before you can process it. “I’m more than familiar with the procedure. I trained down in L.A.” He says this like it’s supposed to explain something, and he winks at you again. It’s… upsetting.

You swallow thickly. “The thing is, I’d been hoping for a female doctor.”

Kemp’s eyes fly to your face as he realizes how uncomfortable you are. “Oh, Honey. I see.” You blush and he gives you a tender look. “You’re shy? That’s understandable.”

“Thank you, I—”

“But I’m sorry to tell you, Sweetheart, there aren’t any other women doctors in our practice.”

“Oh.” Your heart sinks. Getting this consult appointment had taken months, and you’d wanted to go to a place where you knew they were very good, very experienced. This place had been recommended as the best. “I see.”

Dr. Kemp looks pityingly at you. “Did you want to reschedule your appointment?” he asks gently. “Dr. Hickory won’t be taking new patients until after her leave, but I can have the receptionist take a look at next year’s calendar.”

You look at him with wide eyes, disappointed. “Next… next year?”

He makes an apologetic face. “Yeah, sorry.”

Sighing, you try to put on a brave face. You’re an adult, you tell yourself. Buck the fuck up. You’ve put up with male gynos before, after all. None of them ever looked like Dr. Kemp, but you shouldn’t hold the man’s good looks against him. He’s just here to do his job, to help you. “It’s okay,” you say, trying to approximate a friendly smile. “It’s fine. You can… you can be my doctor.”

Dr. Kemp’s eyes flash in satisfaction, but there’s something about it that’s more than just professional. “Good girl,” he says, and he says it all chipper and like it’s a normal thing to say to a patient, like it isn’t supposed to make your panties feel a little bit damp (and honestly, the sweetheart’s and the honey’s and the your breasts are lovely’s has probably contributed to the situation in your panties, too). “So,” Kemp says, sitting down onto the physician’s stool and rolling over. “Why don’t you tell me what makes you want this procedure.”

He’s giving you his full attention. He’s not even holding the clipboard anymore, and you find that it’s nearly impossible to meet his gaze for long. You look down at your lap instead, at your clasped hands against the white fabric of your sundress as you tell him, “Um, well I guess I just don’t, ah, don’t really like how I look… down there.” You nearly whisper the last words, ashamed.

“What don’t you like about it?” he asks softly.

“It just doesn’t look right,” you say, echoing the things your boyfriend had told you, things that you couldn’t help but to come to see as true. “It’s too much. Too big. It looks like…” you can’t even bring yourself to say the words that he’d used. “It’s just not pretty,” you whisper, cheeks burning in shame. “I want it to be prettier. Like other girls.”

“Other girls,” he repeats. “What other girls are we talking about?”

You scoff quietly and frown at your lap. “Like… you know. Like what you see in, in—”

“Porn?” Kemp says, voice tight. When you look up you’re struck by his darkening expression. He looks pissed off. “Let me guess,” he says, jaw working. “Boyfriend?”

You gape at him. “Ahm… no. Ex-boyfriend,” you murmur. Dr. Kemp looks very displeased, and you shrink back into yourself. “Is it… isn’t this like, a common procedure?” you ask meekly, wary of the man’s expression. “I looked at the website. There were lots of before and after pictures.” When you don’t get a response, you prod, “Doctor?”

“Steve,” he says, his expression lightening up somewhat. “You can call me Steve.”

You glance at his name tag that says Brendan Kemp, MD. “But—”

He scoots forward and puts his hands on your knees, rubbing over them. It pushes the hem of your dress up by the barest degree, but you ignore it. He’s looking you closely in the eyes. He looks sweet, and kind. And because of how handsome he is, how sure of himself too, it’s intimidating as hell. “Why don’t I have a look first, hm?” he says. “Give you my professional opinion, before you go deciding what needs fixing.”

You gulp and manage a tiny nod. “O-okay.” This is the part you’ve dreaded. Dr. Kemp (Steve, he’d told you to call him, but that just makes this whole experience feel more uncomfortable, more personal) scrutinizing your most private place.

He pulls out the stirrups from the end of the table and instructs you to put your legs up. “Take your shoes and underwear off and get comfy,” he says, smiling nicely at you as he says it, as if “comfy” is something you could possibly be while doing this.

He scoots away on his rolling stool to go over to the room’s counter and don latex gloves, giving you an illusion of privacy as you untie the laces of your shoes and slip them off your feet. They land on the floor with a muted ‘clunk’, and you slide your panties down your legs and tuck them under your lower back. They have a little wet spot on them that you don’t want Dr. Kemp to see. You slide down the table and put your feet into the stirrups, getting into the familiar, yet never-not-humiliating, position. You feel impossibly exposed, the cool air hitting between your legs and making you want to close them. As a useless, last-ditch effort, you straighten out the fabric of your dress so that it covers you to your knees, serving as a sort of barrier between you and him. “...Ready,” you say quietly, when it seems that he’s not going to return without your say-so.

He sits on the stool and rolls up close between your legs. You start trembling a little and you shut your eyes to try and calm down. “...Hey,” Kemp says, getting your attention. When you open your eyes again you see him standing over you, looking at your face instead of between your legs. “Honey,” he says gently. “You seem really nervous.”

You wince. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He looks kindly at you. “I just wanted to double check. You didn’t indicate any history of sexual assault on your intake form.”

You blanch. “Oh! N-no I— nothing like that.”

“Okay,” he says gently, patting your knee again. “Just wanted to make sure.”

You’re struck by how sweet that is of him, and you try to relax to show him you’re grateful for his care. “It’s okay, it’s fine,” you tell him as he sits back down on the stool. “This just… sucks, you know?”

“Mm.” You gasp as his gloved hands appear on your ankles and give an indicative tug. “Scoot down closer to the end of the table, Sweetheart.”

Heat floods you as you do as you’re told, putting your ass right to the edge of the table like he wants. It’s so humiliating. You want to cover your face with your hands, only refraining by gripping the edges of the padded table instead.

“Shh. Good girl,” he praises you, and you feel your belly clench at the words. Below you, he chuckles and self consciousness floods you as you think of what he must be seeing. You’re suddenly, horribly curious if you’re at all wet. Good God, you hope not. But your panties had been damp, that one little wet spot on the crotch… You tense again as Kemp’s hands appear on the inside edges of your knees, pushing them apart. “Open up for me now.”

You realize you’d been closing your legs together somewhat. “S-sorry,” you whisper.

He rubs your inner thigh—close to the knee but still shocking. “It’s okay. I know this is hard. I can tell you’re a woman who doesn’t spread her legs for many men.”

Your lips part as your mind reels, offended and horrified that he’d say that. Nevermind that it’s true, or that it sounds like he’s praising you, like he’s just calling you a ‘good girl’ in a different way. You seal your lips shut to keep yourself from scolding him.

The next thing you feel is him leaning closer. You swear you can feel his breath down there, but surely he wouldn’t be getting so close. You grit your teeth and try not to let your mind run away with itself. “So,” you say to try and make conversation, to try and prove to him and yourself that you’re a mature woman who can handle this. “So y-you can see. See what I mean.”

“Mm, still looking,” he says thoughtfully. You inhale sharply when he touches you, but you quickly slam your eyes shut and try to take calming breaths. You knew going into this that you’d need to be examined. He drags his fingers over your mons and down the puffy outer lips of your pussy. It’s extra sensitive to you because you’d shaved yourself completely bare before this appointment. Silly, maybe, but you’ve always thought that hair down there was unsightly, gross, and you didn’t want Dr. Hickory to have to deal with it.

Not that she’s dealing with you at all, now.

You bite your lip as you feel him exploring you slowly, with the barest of touches. He’s touching you in a way that feels more like a lover than a doctor. His thumbs gently dip into the crease of your outer lips and pull them apart, baring everything between. “Look at that,” he whispers, and you nearly cry out in mortification. You must whimper or something, because Dr. Kemp pauses and checks, “Still okay?”

You nod, eyes squeezed shut tightly. “Fine,” you say breathily. Deep breaths. He does this all the time. It’s no big deal to him. Just take deep— “Oh!”

He’s stroking the hood of your clit with the pad of a finger, just the barest, gliding touch. It’s slippery with something, and you feel halfway sick as you have to wonder if it’s a medical lubricant he’s somehow fetched, or your own arousal that he’s gathered up and is using to explore you. No, you think, it couldn’t be. He wouldn’t…

“You have a gorgeous pussy,” he breathes from between your legs.

“I… ex-excuse me?” you stutter. This time you can feel it when you clench and slick comes out of you. Dr. Kemp groans as if he’s seen it happen, and you feel your face flame. “I’m sorry,” you apologize, humiliated that you’re getting wet from this. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Shh sh sh,” he hushes you, one of his gloved hands smoothing over your inner thigh, this time much further up. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Your body’s just reacting naturally to being stimulated.” His gentle explanation does absolutely nothing to help with your situation, and you feel your belly tighten again in arousal. You whimper helplessly, somehow wanting him to comfort you. And he does. “Honey,” he breathes, going back to tracing the hood of your clit. His fingers move down, following the line of your inner lips, spreading them out and gliding over the thickest parts of them. Shame curls in your gut as you remember the words you ex had used:

“Fucking luscious,”

You blink at the ceiling tiles, shocked. Those had most certainly not been the words he’d used. “Um,” you start to say, but he interrupts you in a firm tone,

“Baby, listen to me, okay?” You’re frozen, unable to respond so he takes your silence for compliance. Between your legs, his fingers trace up and down the wet folds of your cunt. There’s no interpreting it any other way now—he’s caressing you. “This?” he says, whispering the words what feels like only inches from your skin. “This is your labia minora.”

You exhale shakily. “I—I know that.”

“Mm.” He keeps tracing them, keeps gliding around in the wetness that’s now becoming obscene. “It’s natural for you to look like this.”

“I just…” you stammer, still trying to bring this examination back into the realm of productive. “I th-think they’re too big. There’s too much…” you tense up at another wet stroke over your clit. “Too much...meat,” you grit out.

Between your legs, Steve makes a displeased sound. “That’s what the ex told you, huh?” He doesn't wait for you to answer, one of his thumbs sliding down, down, until it starts rubbing down at your taint, pushing right up against the edge of your pussy. You gasp and he shushes you. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong, here,” he murmurs, his breath a hot whoosh against you.

You whimper at the realization of how close he is to you now. “Please,” you whisper, “Dr. Kemp—”

“Steve,” he corrects gently, still thumbing circles of pressure into the thin skin at the edge of your hole, almost teasing, almost threatening with how close it is and how with only a little bit more pressure, a different angle, he could slide it right in. “I told you to call me Steve.” His other hand splays out over your mons, the thumb dipping down to swipe up and down over the hood of your clit. It’s a slick, gliding, barely-there touch. He’s hardly applying any pressure but that’s how you like it. You’re so sensitive there, and you can’t hold in the pitiful little moan that leaves your lips. Steve hums in approval. “Yeah,” he says, voice low and quiet. “You’ve got a prominent clitoral hood.”

You toss your head on the table, a whine building in your throat at his bold, clinical language. It doesn’t match his tone of voice or the way he’s touching you. This is so wrong. But you can’t stop it. You like it. He intimidates you horribly, and you like that, too.

He’s still stroking you there as he says, “What was that word you used, hm? ‘Meat’?”

You cringe.

“Well it is,” Steve says lowly. “Very meaty.” He traces your folds again, this time holding your labia delicately between his fingertips and rubbing the sensitive flesh. You just about die.

“St-steve, please,”

“And these lips,” he says, ignoring your pleas. “These gorgeous …juicy fucking folds.” he says, nearly growling the words. “Makes a man wanna lick, and suck…”

You go rigid at the first touch of his tongue. “Ohmygod,” you whisper, hips jolting up against his mouth without your permission. You’re about to apologize, but before you can, Dr. Kemp is loosing the filthiest, most appreciative groan, the tail end of the sound becoming muffled as he mashes his whole mouth against your pussy. “Holy—” Shit, you finish in your mind, unable to force words past your throat anymore. Steve mouths at you like he can’t wait, like he’s desperate, and you feel it as his tongue swipes broadly over your entire cunt. Your fingers spasm, digging painfully into the edges of the exam table as your whole body tenses up. “Oh, god,” you moan, hips jerking against his mouth.

He makes a muffled sound of pleasure and sucks everything he can into his mouth; your clit, your lips. He sucks, hard and sloppy, releasing it all with a loud, wet sound. “Fuck, honey,” he pants. “Never wanted to suck on a pussy so bad.” His hand returns to your mound, his thumb taking up the same swiping motion over your clit, only now you’re drenched and swollen, throbbing with sensitivity.

“Shit,” you whine, pressing up against his hand without realizing it at first.

He holds you down easily and flicks his thumb a little rougher, a little faster. “Yeah? He breathes, kissing at the edge of your sex, near your thigh in a move that is surprisingly sweet. “That feel good for you, Sweetheart?” You make an unplanned noise of assent, and he hums darkly. He’s pleased. “Good girl,” he says again, and flicks his thumb. “Such a big fat clit, and these pretty pink lips. Mmhm, so fucking plump. I could play with it all day, looove it.”

You toss your head, unable to take the words he’s saying. And he’s growling it all at you like it’s a good thing, like your pussy’s the best thing he’s ever seen. You can’t doubt for a second that he means it, but you’re just so overwhelmed by what he’s saying…

You make an embarrassingly high pitched sound when he presses a finger into you. “Oh!”

“Shsh,” he warns you, smoothing his other hand up the apex of your thigh, up under the fabric of your dress, over your belly. “Shh, honey. Don’t want the nurse to walk in, do you?”

You gasp, suddenly afraid of that possibility. He feels you get still and silent and soothes you with a heavy lick over your lips, the finger that’s inside of you curling. “You’re okay,” he promises, kissing your clit, sucking it and letting it pop from his mouth. You sob. “Shh. You’re okay.” He moves his finger shallowly, stroking you from the inside. It feels nice, and you exhale shakily, trying to calm yourself down.

“Steve,” you breathe. “You shouldn’t. We… I shouldn’t….”

All of a sudden he rises from the stool, standing to his full height and moving to the side of the table as he keeps his hand on you, in you. He stares down at you, his expression rapt but tender. It’s so much worse with him looking at you like this. It’s almost harder than when he had his face mashed against you and half your sex inside his mouth. It’s even more serious like this, you think as you blink up at him with parted lips. It’s more personal. He looks you right in the eyes, unfaltering, as he slips in another finger. You keen, and your hips press up into it, seeking. His lips curl, pleased. He moves his hand in such a firm, practiced way. He’s not pulling out very much at all. Not thrusting so much as he is rocking, grinding.

Inside, something starts to feel tight and desperate. You watch him watching you, watching it happen. He’s smiling, smug, he knows what he’s making you feel. “You’re soaking my hand, honey,” he murmurs, and you feel your cheeks flood hot with shame. “Uh uh,” he corrects you, stern. “No, it’s beautiful.”

He changes it, starts rocking deeper, curling against your walls and jabbing harder at that spot. It’s not an orgasm you feel so much as an urgency, and you squeak as the pressure builds. “S-something,” you try to say, try to tell him that something’s going to happen. But his eyes gleam in pleasure, like he already knows. Above your clit, the thumb of his hand starts rubbing in downward strokes: down down down. Holy fuck does it feel good. Your eyes slam shut as you feel it building, building and tightening. Oh—

“I want you to promise me,” Kemp says, and you’re shocked at how close his voice is. You open your eyes. He’s bent over, his face mere inches from yours as his hand keeps working. “Before I make you cum, I want you to promise me,” he growls. “Promise me that you’ll never let anybody cut on this fucking perfect pussy.”

You gasp, his words jabbing at the core of you almost as much as his fingers inside do, “Ahh-oh!”

“Promise me, Angel,” he says, rocking his hand harder, faster, harder. “Promise me now.”

“I… I…ha-oh! I pra–hom–mi–ssss!” Your eyes slam shut and your hips jerk against him as it happens. You cum, you cum hard. You hear him curse and know that he’s moving back down between your legs to look at your clenching cunt. He never stops jerking his hand into you, drawing the pleasure out. You’re loud. You squeal and shriek and jerk wildly through the whole thing, unable to control your body. It’s never felt this; this urgent, this out of control. You buck against his hand, feeling the wetness soaking everything beneath you, until finally it comes to an end.

He pulls out of you and uses both hands to spread your lips apart, staring. You whine and squirm, and then you really feel the extent of the wetness down there, and you blanch. “I—Oh no.” You try to sit up, try to pull away from him and get his hands off you, panicking. “I… I peed.” You struggle, mortified, pulling your feet from the stirrups and swinging them to the side of the table, trying to close yourself to him, trying to get off the table and—

“Heyheyhey, no. Hang on baby, calm down.” Steve stops you, his hands at your waist, keeping you seated on the table. He crowds you, holding you in place. “You didn’t honey, you didn’t. You’re okay.” He laughs. He’s laughing. You can’t believe it as you watch him. You begin to scowl, ready to be hurt and mad, but he hushes you with a kiss to your mouth.

You gasp and go silent, somehow more taken aback by this than anything he’s done yet. His mouth is so sure and confident over yours, his lips pillow soft but commanding. He pulls back from the kiss and looks at you. “You squirted, honey,” he explains, amusement still clear in his eyes, only now you’re calm enough that you can see the affection there, too. The satisfaction, the desire. He’s not making fun of you.

“What?” You look down to the end of the table, where you’d been splayed open for him. The paper covering and the vinyl padding of the table are soaked with a clear liquid. You look down to your lap, which is barely covered by the material of your bunched up sundress now. Between your thighs, it feels wet too. “I… I did?” you nearly whisper, astounded.

He laughs affectionately and leans in to kiss your forehead. “Yeah, Angel, you did. It was amazing.”

You flush and tuck your head down, feeling tingly from his obvious approval. The things he’d said about your body… “You really meant it?” you ask. “All the—”

“Yes,” he says firmly. He tips your chin up, forcing you to look at him. “Hey,” he says gently. “Remember what you promised me.”

You squirm uncomfortably. Maybe he finds you attractive, but you can’t help but to worry about other guys, about the future partners you’ll have. Steve might like it, but he’s just one man. The fact remains that down between your legs, you still look like most of the before halves of the before and after pictures. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, apologetic to dismiss his opinion of you. “But I just… I want my next boyfriend to think I’m pretty, there,” you say reluctantly, glancing up at him.

He has a fierce gleam in his eyes as he boldly tells you, “He already does,” and then surges down to kiss you again.

It’s been a long day. With both his own patients and a bunch of Hickory’s to see to as well, Steve is pretty tired by the time 5:00 rolls around and the office staff is closing up. He changes out of his scrubs and lab coat, back into his gym shorts and sneakers that he’ll jog home in. That’s how Cassie finds him. “Brendan, check it out!” She holds up her phone for him to see the picture of a wet, vaguely purple-colored newborn. “Boy,” she tells him. “Five pounds, whatever ounces. Small but healthy. She says they’re naming him Grady Harrison.”

Steve grins. “Awww.” What a horrible name.

Cassie puts her phone away and tilts her head at him. “A bunch of us are going for drinks. You want to come?”

Steve shakes his head. “I’m beat. Gonna head home soon.”

“Mm. You know your nickname is Boring Brendan,” she teases, grabbing up her purse and heading for the exit.

“It is not,” he laughs, waving her out the door. “I’m just gonna finish up with a few notes. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She waves goodbye and the office door falls shut, locking behind her because he’s the last one there and the office manager already left. Steve walks behind the partition of the nurse’s station and sits down, booting up one of the computers. He clicks the mouse over a few folders, typing in his password when it prompts him for entry into the patient data files. There’s one in particular whom he wants to learn everything he can about.

He finds the folder marked with her name:

Moreau, Ann J.

The corner of his mouth ticks up and he clicks to open the file. “Ann,” he murmurs the name, remembering the taste of her cunt against his tongue, filling his mouth, his senses. Mmm. She’d been delicious, exquisite. Not taking his eyes away from the computer screen, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the tiny scrap of lace she'd left behind in her hurry to escape him. He holds the panties under his nose, inhaling. Fuck, he thinks, remembering her delicate body in that delicate cotton dress, how she'd cried out and creamed herself for him. So sweet.

He wants to learn more about her, fully plans on tracking her down and taking her on a date. On many dates, if he can.

Because he’s never been the type to be satisfied by just one taste.

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