#in trance 95 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hannieehaee · 1 year ago

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18+ / mdi

a member finding your nudes - 97 line

95 line, 96 line, 97 line, maknae line

wc: 1985

materlist

seokmin -

flustering seokmin was one of the easiest things in the world. at least for you, that is. one wink or suggestive whisper in his ear and he folded like a lawn chair, willing to give you whatever you wanted. this was something you frequently took advantage of, enjoying the ego boost his reactions would give you.

many of the times in which you did this manifested themselves through the form of dirty text messages while seokmin was away at work. something about knowing you could affect him even at a distance made you giggle to yourself as you awaited his almost immediate responses.

today was one of the many times in which you decided to send an unsuspecting seokmin a few pictures you had just taken in the one of the new sets he had bought you a few weeks back. giggling to yourself, you wrote a filthy message and followed it with an even filthier picture, setting your phone down as you awaited his response.

unbeknownst to you, the receiving end of that message wouldnt be your sweet seokmin, but the evil gremlin that was your boyfriend's best friend, yoon jeonghan.

jeonghan was, for lack of a better word, a very silly man. he always did whatever he believed would gift him the most instant entertainment (without ever harming any unsuspecting people, of course). he'd throw out white lies for fun, discreetly stick his nose in other people's business, instigate silly arguments, you name it. today, his newest form of entertainment took form as he picked up seokmin's phone while he had stepped away to the restroom, unlocking it and seeing notifications from seok's girlfriend, someone who he also considered a friend of his own.

at first he planned to send you some funny texts in seokmin's behalf, with the plan of letting you know it was all him after he had a bit of fun. his plans were swiftly ruined, however, when he opened up the notifications only to find pure filth in the form of words he never imagined you'd utter to his pure and innocent friend seokmin. along with that, he was now privy to the inner workings of the body you kept hidden under your clothes.

despite being a very self-controlled man, he could not help the slight sense of thirst that was now in the back of his head at seeing seokmin's pretty girlfriend showcasing the softness of her curves, inciting seokmin to ditch dance practice and go take care of her (that is, paraphrasing, of course, as he refused to utter the filthy words you'd typed out even in his head).

breaking out of his trance, jeonghan attempted to put the phone away before seokmin arrived, but had been too late. seokmin was now standing over him, seemingly having seen the whole five minutes in which jeonghan had his eyes glued to the phone, lip gripped by his teeth as his knuckles had tightened around the phone. seokmin was used by now to the dirty messages he'd receive from you at inopportune times, which led him to assume this mightve been one of those cases (at least going off of his friend's reaction). flustered while also a little smug at seeing his friend lose his composure for once in his life, seokmin grabbed the phone while looking at a wide-eyed jeonghan, speaking up for the first time since walking in, "we keep this to ourselves, okay?"

uncharacteristically, jeonghan swallowed, not at seokim's intimidating demeanor, but at the thought of you implanted into his head, knowing he wouldnt get this out of his head for a while, "y-yeah, okay."

mingyu -

as roommates and friends for over 10 years, mingyu and wonwoo had close to no secrets between one another; their privacy practically nonexistent. this was not something that either of them minded, being too used to each other's constant presence in the other's life.

having the title of mingyu's girlfriend, wonwoo had grown used to you quite easily, hanging out with you and enjoying your company whenever you visited the apartment to see mingyu. you could even call the two of you friends at this point. wonwoo liked and respected you, and you did the same in return. mingyu felt lucky and at ease at the friendly dynamic that had formed between the three of you, allowing the trio to hang out at the apartment quite often.

today had been one of those times. the three of you sat together in the living room, watching a movie wonwoo had recommended a while back. you and mingyu sitting side to side, your leg halfway across his lap as wonwoo sat to the other side of mingyu, keeping a bit of a distance from you two.

the movie had left your minds pretty quickly, as mingyu had brought up some pictures he and wonwoo had taken while in japan, wanting to show you the editing he and wonwoo had done to them. wanting to see the pictures up close, both you and wonwoo scooted over closer to mingyu while he held the phone at an angle where the three of you could see.

your boyfriend excitedly explained the creative process of taking the photos along with the details behind the editing, all while wonwoo added a comment here and there. it went on like this as mingyu scrolled through each picture. the excitement at sharing something he was passionate about with two of his favorite people must've gotten to him, as mingyu forgot that if he swiped one too many times, he'd end up landing on a few of the pictures you'd sent him due to missing him while in japan.

in a very unpredictable turn of events, mingyu did just that. his thumb froze, along with the rest of him, as he swiped past the pictures taken in japan and his phone began to display a picture of you in his bed, bra off and sheer panties barely hiding anything under them. all three of you stopped your breathing, realizing you were now all looking at a very explicit picture of you, simultaneously ruining what was a nice bonding moment between the three of you.

the three reactions out of you varied in severity.

you, for one, knew wonwoo had already seen you in some compromising states during your multiple stays at his and mingyu's apartment after many nights of intimate activities behind mingyu's door. you were slightly embarrassed, but thought, hey, it couldve been worse.

mingyu, now, mingyu was a hard one (literally). if you hadnt been sitting next to him, he mightve paid it no mind and uttered a quick 'sorry' to wonwoo for showing him a explicit picture without meaning to. but since all three of you were together, he felt beyond embarrassed at putting you in such an awkward situation. it also did not help that he was starting to feel turned on at the memory of the call that followed those images.

wonwoo .. now, wonwoo did not know how to react. his breath hitched as soon as he took notice of what was staring back at him on the screen. he had seen you in some vulnerable states due to mingyu's insane libido and his lack of intention of hiding his usual rendezvous with you. he, however, had never actually seen you in the nude. he felt like a bit of a pervert at the way his body began to heat up at the image of your naked body. it did not help that you were in the room at the moment, fully aware that he was still looking at the image in front of him.

a few seconds after the initial shock, mingyu cursed loudly at his mistake and threw his phone on the table in front of him, turning it off in the process. the three of you sat there saying nothing to one another. eventually you lifted your head, making eye contact with a beet-red wonwoo who looked away immediately after meeting your eyes. you weren't sure how the night would proceed, but there you all were; flustered, wordless, and slightly turned on.

(a/n: here's a continuation to gyu's part due to a few requests c:)

minghao -

minghao is not an easily fazed man. even as he moved to a foreign country as a teenager, not many things could ever really get a reaction out of him. you, however, were one of his only weaknesses. anything that had to do with you, really.

watching you hang out with his friends as he rehearsed warmed his heart insanely, rendering him unable to fully concentrate as he watched you from across the room, mid conversation with chan and jun. recently you had taken the habit of coming by pretty often, much to minghao's delight. you had made it a point to befriend his friends little by little, deciding to begin by his unit; chan, jun, and soonyoung. today was rehearsal for the performance unit's new song, which meant only the four members (plus you) were present. as he practiced the short solo he shared with soonyoung, you took the opportunity to chat with jun and chan on your own.

minghao watched you for a bit while soonyoung stretched, eventually taking his eyes off you to concentrate on the man next to him. it went calmly for a while, occasionally switching his gaze over to you to make sure you were having fun with his friends and that things were running smoothly for the three of you. at some point your laughter combined with that of his two friends, which made his heart warm up, enjoying the background noise as he focused on the choreography.

across the room, chan, jun and you giggled incessantly at your phone screen as you showed them some silly pictures you had taken of minghao the last time you had been with the man. chan, feeling comfortable with his friend's girlfriend, started to joke around with you, at some point even teasing you by taking the phone from your hands, giggling as you tried to get it back. it was all light hearted as he and jun played hot potato with your phone while you laughed at their antics, trying to get it back.

the fun cut itself off short, however, when chan somehow eventually ended up going too far up your gallery, accidentally opening some of the pictures you had sent minghao last month. the same ones you had meant to delete seeing as they had already served their purpose. embarrassed at the consequences of his actions, chan swiftly apologized, bowing quickly as he handed your phone back, avoiding eye contact. unfortunately for you, jun had also been made privy of the images as he had been standing next to chan when he'd seen them. and even more unfortunately for you, a suspicious minghao was now approaching you before you could even react to what had happened.

minghao had quickly halted his practice with soonyoung as soon as he took notice the stark silence that interrupted what was previously loud laughter. taking notice of all of your flustered states and inability to meet each other's eyes, he walked across the room over to the three of you, soonyoung's nosy self following close behind.

"did something happen?", he asked, nearing you as he stood opposing the two members you had just been playing around with.

"oh. i-uh it's nothing hyung," said chan, convincing not even himself.

minghao looked back at you, noting the lit up phone screen in your hands, immediately recognizing the picture on screen.

"i- what were you doing? did you-" you interrupted him, wanting to salvage the situation.

"it's nothing, minghao! it was an accident. chan was messing with my phone and i forgot to delete the pictures, so he just-"

"he what?! you- they- we have to go," let out a very exasperated minghao as he grabbed your hand and marched you both out of the room, regretting his previous desire to merge his love life with his silly friends. this had, funnily enough, been the biggest reaction you had ever gotten out of minghao to date.

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number1jeonginstan · 11 months ago

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A/N: Based on my hard thought I made here!!!

WC: 2.4k

Pairing: Changbin x afab!reader

Warnings: oral (fem! receiving), unprotected sex, cum eating, changbin calling reader bunny, they didn't know each other before this, slight creepy behaviour idk!

Your body was sore, your muscles were tight and your entire body felt like jello. This usually never happened to you because you worked out every other day, but you were so busy with work the other day, that you didn’t have time.

You usually went to your friend's gym, 25 minutes away from your apartment. After all, you had seen this cute guy there, which you admitted was stupid because you barely saw his face, it was covered by a mask, but the way his muscles were taught and stretching out his compression shirt, his curly hair on the top of his head, you were whipped.

You had started going there every other day, hoping to see him, which you did almost 95% of the time. You never talked to him, but you did know his name, Changbin.

You overheard it from his friend who looked a chipmunk, with round cheeks and a small waist. And since then, you kept crawling back, hoping that he would start the conversation first, too scared to make the first move.

You entered the almost deserted gym, placing your water bottle and towel next to the Stairmaster, only to be met with the sound of the clanging of someone pushing weights onto a bar. You slowly turned around to be met with a man with grey sweatpants and a black compression shirt. It was Changbin.

You didn’t expect him to be in your apartment’s gym, hip-thrusting what seemed to be roughly 200 pounds. You stood there, in shock, at first mesmerized by the way his hips thrust the bar in the air, sweat dripping down his body, but at the same time, you were confused.

How was he here out of all places, did he live in your same building this entire time, and if he did, how did you not notice him? On top of that, why did he drive 25 minutes every single day? While you were racking your brain around all these questions, you didn’t notice how he looked up, taking a break from his set only to see you.

While you were having your crisis, he was just as confused. He had never seen you down here, he came on the off days of your schedule, memorizing it to a tee. He knew what days you went to that gym, what workout you were going to hit, and even how many sips of water you took.

That was how in tune he was with your gym schedule, it wasn’t perverted, right? He just took a liking to you, your laugh, your ass. Fuck, your ass, he groaned to himself taking a look at it.

You weren’t at the gym yesterday, so he couldn’t take any videos of the way it stretched out your leggings as you bent down to stretch or did squats. He loved the way you pouted when you had to adjust the weights because someone before you didn’t put it back.

You were just so cute, he couldn’t get enough of you, and now to think you were in the same building as him all along, he needed to know you better, to know what you smelled like, how you lived, and what your drawer full of workout clothes that you loved to strut around looked like.

“Hi, sorry to bother you” he walked up to you, his training belt still wrapped around his torso. “Could you spot me please, there isn’t anyone else in the gym, and I really could use the help because I’m about to peak”

“Oh yeah, of course, let me just put my phone down” You haphazardly put your phone next to your water bottle, and went over to where he was squatting, walking around the bar so you were met face to face with him.

“My name is Changbin by the way” he grinned, pulling off his mask and allowing you to see his face. He was one of the most attractive men you have ever laid eyes on. With a sharp jawline and a beautiful nose, you looked at him in awe until you snapped out of your trance as he coughed out loud, checking if you were ready.

“Ready?” he asked, a grin on his face as you nodded your head. He began to squat, your hands on the bar ever so slightly to ensure it couldn’t slip through your fingers.

He did 12 reps in one set, you knew this from constantly watching him. “I’m done with my set, do you want me to spot you?” he asked, a grin splayed on his face.

You nodded, ready to take the extra plates off the bar, but he stopped you. “I got it” he whispered, carrying them off and back to their place. How he knew exactly how much you squatted confused you, but you didn’t think much of it, rather setting yourself under the bar while he was in front in the same position you were mere moments ago.

“There we go” he grinned as you did your first rep, your muscles tightening seeing as it was your first time squatting in a couple of days. Your form was slightly off, causing him to tsk’ out loud. “Can I help you?” he asked, walking around so your back was towards his chest.

“Of course” you replied as the cool touch of his hands met your waist.

He slowly pressed his hands firmer into you, allowing you to complete another rep, his body bending with you, your ass pressing right into his crotch.

“There we go sweetheart” he groaned, feeling the plush of your ass hitting his cock. You looked back, watching his eyes flutter slightly at the sight of you. “Did you only do this to touch my ass?” you whined, trying to escape his grasp, placing the bar down.

“Come on sweetheart, we both know you only go to that gym for me” he replied, watching you through the mirror, your back still towards him. He slowly came closer his arms wrapping around your torso, kissing your slightly sweaty neck, savoring the taste.

��Please” you whined, his cock rutting against you through your leggings. He simply nodded, taking off his belt, throwing it god knows where before picking you up and placing you on a bench, your back arched in the air, your forearms and knees pressed against the bench.

“Such a perfect ass” he groaned, you shook it slightly in an attempt to entice him. “It’s all for you” you giggled as his hands ran over each and every curve of your hips and thighs.

“Such a pretty little bunny, all for me, even wearing my favorite color” he grins, taking in your bright pink leggings and sports bra. “I’ll wear it more often, just for you” you grinned as he slowly pulled down the pink pants down, groaning at the sight of your cunt.

You weren’t wearing any underwear, you never did at the gym, and for the first time in your life, it was a plus. Your pussy was soaked, your folds glistening under the gym light. Changbin slowly pulled out his phone from his pocket, taking a picture before throwing it with his belt and diving straight into your cunt.

He lapped at your folds savoring the taste as he slowly took your clit in between his lips, first kissing it, then sucking at it, eliciting the tiniest moans from your mouth. “Feel good bunny?” he asked straight into your cunt, the vibration causing you to jolt forward slightly.

“Feels so good Changbin” you whimpered as he slowly brought his hand up to your thighs, spreading your folds wider with his hands to get better access to your pussy. You were clenching around nothing, in need of more stimulation.

“Poor baby, such a pretty cunt, but needs more than my tongue doesn’t it?” he asked, your head turned back to look at him. You hummed a yes in response as he brought one of his fingers to your hole, slowly inserting it inside.

“Fuck bunny, you are so tight, how are you going to take my cock?”

“Gonna be a good girl and take it, promise Binnie” you whined as he thrusted his first finger inside of you, meeting a bit of resistance.

“You have to be relaxed for my baby, can you do that?”

“Yes Binnie”

You slowly felt your walls unclenching around his finger, allowing him to insert another inside of you, his fingers scissoring in your cunt to prep it for his cock. He knew that you wouldn’t be able to take it unless you were properly prepped, despite your whining that you could.

“Can take it, Binnie, I don’t need anymore prep, just need your cock please” you begged, needing to feel him inside of you.

“Be a good girl and take my fingers or you won’t even get my cock” he growled as he went back to lapping at your clit in hopes of making you cum to provide extra lubrication for his cock.

You nodded as his finger hit that spot inside you that drove you wild, your walls clamping around his finger as you came, your body shaking. He didn’t stop, overstimulating you as his fingers continued to thrust inside of you, lips still sucking your clit.

“Please, can’t take it anymore” you pleaded for him to stop, but he didn’t. He needed to consume every single drop that your cunt could give, it was the sweetest thing he had ever tasted.

“You want my cock?” he asked your fucked out body as you slumped into the bench slightly, your body covered in a sheer sweat. “Please” you whined, not able to come up with a coherent sentence after cumming so hard.

As you regained concessions of your body, he pulled down his sweatpants, a patch of his pre-cum staining through his boxers and sweatpants allowing you to see.

“You weren’t joking when you said you were huge” You looked at him with your jaw drop. He wasn’t long by any means, but he was girthy. No wonder he told you he had to prep you, you had no idea how he was going to fit inside of you.

“Fuck, I don’t have a condom” he whined, stroking his cock to release some of the tension so he didn’t cum on the spot.

“You can fuck me raw, I’m clean and on the pill” You looked at him, your doe eyes pleading causing him to have an internal battle with himself.

“I’m clean too, but I just want to be sure, I don’t want to do anything you are uncomfortable with” he whined, not wanting to pressure you.

“Says the dude who just fucked me with his fingers so hard I almost blacked out in the middle of our apartment’s gym, just put it inside of me please, I can’t wait any longer” you whined, praying that he would fuck you.

With that confirmation, he slowly ran the tip of his cock along your folds, capturing as much of your wetness as he could before slowly stretching out your hole with his girthy cock, you moaned as he barely inserted the head inside of you.

“Is it good bunny?” he asked, running his hands along your thighs, making sure you were comfortable.

“So good, need more” you whine, pushing yourself back on his cock just slightly, the stretch causing you to moan loudly.

“You like it?” he whimpered, pushing the entirety of his cock inside of you, his hips pressed against your ass.

You could only moan in response as he slowly began to thrust his hips, slowly pulling his cock almost all the way out of your cunt, only leaving the tip before slamming back into you, the two of you moaning at the same time.

“Fuck bunny, it’s like your sweet little pussy was made for my cock” he moaned as you fucked yourself back on his cock.

“Fuck, keep doing that” he groaned, slapping your ass.

You moaned as you felt him hit a particularly deep spot inside of you.

“Going to cum soon bunny? Going to cum on my cock?” he whispered into your each, the new position causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head. “Fuck, yes I’m cumming” you whined as he abused that spot inside of you.

It didn’t take him far to follow behind. “Fuck, going to cum, where do you want me to cum sweetheart?”

You quickly pulled yourself off his cock, turning around so you could suck his cock, sucking on the head slightly as your hands fondled his balls, his own hand stroking his cock, causing him to cum.

Your cum as well as his mixed in your mouth, causing you to moan around the tip of his cock. “Fuck” he groaned, pulling your head off of him. The two of you fell to the floor of the gym.

“Let me take you out on a real date? Please bunny” he whined, kissing your lips as you lay back on the gym floor.

“As long as there is good food” you whispered back, wrapping your arms around his torso. “We should get up first though” he grinned, picking you up bridal style, causing you to squeal.

“Want to come up to my apartment, I can teach you new ways to work out your glutes” twirling you around, a boyish grin splayed on his face.

“I would love to!” you giggled back, as he grabbed your stuff in his hands, placing you back down on the floor.

—

“You should just ask her out” Jisung groaned, as he let the lat bar slip through his hands, “you’ve been fawning over her for months”

“You know what, I just might” Changbin grinned, walking over to where you were finishing your reps and kissing you right there and then.

Jisung’s jaw dropped, as Changbin walked with you hand and hand back to the lat pull down. “Jisung, meet my girlfriend” he grinned, your face splayed with a light blush.

“You have got to be kidding me, you pulled before I did” he whined, causing you to giggle.

“Yah!” he shouted, before chasing him around the almost empty gym, your giggle filling the void. Maybe skipping the gym was the best course of action.

#ju <3 writes #stray kids #skz #skz smut #straykids x reader #skz x reader #straykids smut #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #skz changbin #changbin x reader #changbin smut #seo changbin #seo changbin smut #seo changbin x reader

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amygdalae · 9 months ago

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im normally a pretentious "if im a fan of something i must engage purely with canon 95% of the time" type of person so if you see me create any au content at all its because i received it as some sort of divine vision while in a ritual trance state. or i was horny

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readingcoco · 9 months ago

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Painted Red 🖤

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader (f)

Words: 5487

Ao3 Link

Summary: Arthur revisits Rhodes Parlour House, hoping to get information about the Braithwaite gold from working girl Ettie. He leaves with more questions than answers and a gift he wasn't expecting.

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, sex work, period typical attitudes, strangers to lovers, medium honour Arthur Morgan, angst, emotional smut.

Chapter Two - The Whore

[Chapter 1]

Arthur.

The air in Lemoyne is cloying. Sticky and thick like Molasses. He hates it here, hates waking up wet with sweat, bitten to an inch of his life by the mosquitos that swarm the lake behind his tent. He’s never been this far south and would gladly leave soon as convenient, except for Dutch’s insistence that gold lies somewhere between the warring Gray and Braithwaite families. He’s less convinced but far from him to try to question Dutch once his mind is set on something.

A high-pitched buzz by his left ear is met with the thwack of his open palm. Gotcha.

Something else is gnawing away at him, too, besides the mosquitos. A stirring in him, he thought, all but laid to rest after Mary, after— the kind that makes itself known only when he’s here, lying alone in his tent, staring up at the ceiling.

Want.

Fuck. He wants her so bad. Ettie, that working girl, up in Rhodes. With her daring eyes and smart mouth — her hands on him, days ago, in the parlour house. Bold as anything. God, if the very thought of her didn’t make a beeline straight down to his cock. He don't like it, don’t like it at all — what she does to him, how she makes him feel. Unarmed. Weak even. But also lighter.

He is appalled to admit he’s considered taking himself in hand more than once now to the thought of her breasts, her smile, the way she looked at him, full of doe-eyed devilment. He’s like some hapless kid. Should be ashamed.

He’s not been with a whore since his 20s. There was that one Dutch paid for when he turned 17, a string of them after Mary ended things the first time around. Abigail? Once. The last time he lay with a woman was when he and Mary briefly came back together before she married. What was that 94… 95? Would he even remember what to do? Would he be able to last? As a whore she ought not to care, especially if he’s paying for the privilege. But he wants to please her. Wants to fill her smart mouth with sounds of pleasure. Watch those daring, teasing eyes roll back in her head as she comes undone for him.

He’s stroking himself now. Her imagined sighs. His name on her lips—

Arthurrr—

“—ARTHUR!”

Dutch shouts him from outside his tent. Inescapable like the soupy Lemoyne air. Goddamnit, he hates it here.

“Best I can stoop to is twenty.”

Arthur nods, weighing the expensive-looking silver bracelet loosely in his palm before handing it over. Hosea was better at knowing the worth of fine things, but the fence was on his way back to camp, and it didn’t make sense to make two trips. Still, twenty dollars wasn’t bad for an afternoon playing errand boy to two star-crossed lovers. Not quite the gold Dutch was hoping for, but something at least.

“Deputy.” The man flashes him a knowing wink, touching the brim of his hat. He winces before stiffly nodding back—damn badge.

He won’t feel too bad about it; the Braithwaite girl, Penelope, had seemed more than content with just the letter, and neither family looked short on finary, as ill-gotten as it was. No, no harm done.

The sun is at its hottest, leaving him half-blind as it beams punishingly up from the road ahead. Sweat pours from his brow, and he can barely see where he’s going when he finds himself steering Branwen right up the hill towards Rhodes rather than carrying on straight in the direction of camp.

Only the stench of the butcher’s meat left out too long in the midday heat is enough to break him from his trance and acknowledge where he is. As though Branwen had been steering herself, with him merely passenger.

Too late to turn around now, he concedes. Might as well carry on heading where he’s heading.

He takes a long glug from his waterskin before dismounting. Hitching Branwen to the shadiest post of the parlour and making sure she has her fill from the water trough provided—a few extra sugar cubes for good measure.

“Won’t be long, girl.”

The heat was just as hard on the horses.

He assures himself he’s here for reconnaissance— nothing more. If anyone’s likely to have information on the Grays and Braithwaites, it’s her. Probably had enough of them to pick something up the gang could find useful, what with her knack for seeing the stuff folk didn’t want seen.

The twenty dollars burns a hole in his pocket.

Ettie had seemed willing the last time, hadn’t she? Not put off or disgusted by him that he could make out. Maybe the badge had its uses, after all.

Hell, maybe if he slept with her, got it out of his system, he could get on with the job at hand and stop all this silly early morning pining.

The parlour house is sleepy as he enters, too late for the lunchtime trade, too early for the field workers to have downed tools and made their way into town. His eyes skirt sheepishly across the bar.

He’d found himself coming here quite a bit since the gang moved south, not just to avoid Pearson’s cooking but because it was one of the few places that offered solace from the outside sun, the thick leafy green curtains keeping out the worst of the rays. I was nicer than most places he tended to frequent, the white-clothed tables suggesting a level of expected cleanliness from its clientele. And though he’d made sure to kick the mud from his boots before entering, he now chose to stand on the hardwood rather than risk marking the floral rugs that lined the rest of the room.

He can’t see her. Not even sure she's started working yet. And though a couple of girls at the bar make him double-take, none of them are Ettie.

He’s just about ready to skulk out, feeling old and feckless, when he hears her. Laughter carrying brightly from behind him, awakening the entire place from its slumber. He’d forgotten how alive she was. The rough sketch he’d drawn of her the night he’d got back to camp had barely captured her likeness, let alone her charm.

She is sat in one of the wooden booths, perched on the lap of a stout-looking man, happy and light, head thrown back, though he’s certain the man at her seat did little to merit such pleasant sounds.

He stalls for a moment, watching her work and is reminded of Hosea’s ability to tell a person exactly what they want to hear in order to rob them blind — except he isn’t sure who would be robbing who in the current circumstance.

The stout man’s hand paws lecherously at Ettie’s waist, bouncing her on his knee as he ogles up at her. Surely, no amount could be worth the touch of a man like that. Is that how he had looked, too? Leering and pathetic? Sucked in by talk of sketching and paints. She had read him like a book, and he’d allowed it — a fool to think her interest was in anything other than the dollars in his pocket.

Well, if money is all it will take to get her pretty face out of his waking thoughts, so be it.

“Miss White?”

Ettie shifts to face him mid-conversation and grins impishly as though expecting his arrival.

“Hello, stranger.”

But as he opens his mouth to respond, the words of solicitation stick in his throat, and he realises how unpracticed he is at this whole buisness. The man beneath her glares back, warning him off what’s his. Arthur swallows dryly, raising an arm to rest awkwardly on the booth’s divider, the other hooking into the buckle of his belt.

“I believe— Last time I was here you—”

Ettie raises an eyebrow, choosing to watch him flounder rather than step to his salvation.

So she’s toying with him. He sees how it is. Hadn’t acted quick enough the first time around and had her plucked from his side by the drunkard Leigh Gray. Now if he wants her, she’s expecting him to do the same to the dolt under her. He grits his jaw. The glint of his badge catches his eye, and he tries a different tack.

“I’ve heard word there’ve been dangerous men spotted in the area.”

Ettie scans the empty bar and looks back at him plainly.

“Everything seems fine from where I’m sittin’, Deputy.” She puts a playful hand on the stout man’s knee. “Wouldn’t you say so Ernest?” The man nods, wrapping his arm ever tighter around Ettie’s waist.

“Would you just—I’d like it if—” He can feel his cheeks starting to burn as he avoids meeting her eye and instead looks over his shoulder towards the central staircase. He speaks low, “Last time I was in, you asked to show me your work— but we was interrupted.”

A twinkle of recognition from Ettie. “Oh? You still interested?”

“Yes.” He sniffs. It’s out there now. Can’t take it back.

She silently weighs up some mental calculation before placing a palm on Ernest’s chest. “I’m sorry, Darlin’. Would you mind terribly if you bought me a drink some other time? The Deputy and I have a prior arrangement.”

He almost sympathises as he watches the man’s face shift from confusion to disappointment, but before it has a chance to twist into anger, Ettie kisses Ernest squarely on the mouth. “Wait right here. I’ve got someone who’ll know how to make it up to you.” She leaves with a wink and no room for protest, springing up and scurrying across to the bar.

Arthur regards Ernest with an awkward salute, unsure what to say given the circumstances. At least when he robbed men at gunpoint, there was no pretence of polite conversation.

It’s Ernest who is first to break their silence, “She’s a wily one, Deputy. Not as perky as some of the younger girls, but makes up for it with experience.” He slaps Arthur’s arm in a fashion far too familiar. It makes his skin crawl. “Clean, too.”

“They’ll be cleanin' you off this floor if you speak about the Lady like that again. We understood?” He’d done his best not to raise his voice, Dutch’s instructions of keeping a low profile never far from his mind, but the man is still white as a sheet as Ettie arrives back at the booth. With her is a lofty-looking girl with ashy blonde hair, who regards Arthur with an amused up and down as she passes. She doesn’t bother to say hello, instead making a beeline straight to Ernest’s side.

“A birdy told me you were in need of company since yours is being so rudely snatched away,” she says pointedly.

Although Ettie rolls her eyes, it’s obvious she’s in on the bit.

“Ernest, Ida’s going to take good care of you while I take the Deputy upstairs. Don’t have too much fun without me now.”

The walk up to Ettie’s room is long enough for the dread to start to kick in. He can feel his heart pumping in his throat and remembers why he stopped all this nonsense years ago, but then the warmth of her touch meets the small of his back, and she smiles at him gently from under her lashes.

“I’ve been wantin' to get you away from prying eyes,” she says quietly, for his ears alone. “Here’s my room, first on the left.”

As the door closes behind them, he can finally allow his shoulders to relax as he is greeted by the smell of lavender and something sweet he can’t quite place—chamomile, maybe? Her room is small, with sunny yellow walls and surfaces laden with bric-à-brac, the type which collects only once a space has been lived in for some time. Things that would be prone to getting lost or damaged travelling from pillar to post as he did, things he wanted to pick over and admire.

A painting hung to his right catches his eye: a handsome-looking dark bay drinking from what looks like Flat Iron Lake. He moves towards it to inspect it up close.

“You wanna leave your gun by the door, Deputy?” Ettie says softly.

He looks down. Of course. And undoes his gun belt, wrapping it around itself before setting it on the side, along with his hat. He stands before her, disarmed, not quite sure what to make of the curious way she watches him or where to rest his twitching fingers without the cool metal of his buckle to anchor to. He folds his arms.

“That’s Burdock, my baby. I take him out ridin’ whenever I can.” Ettie says, gesturing to the painting that caught his attention.

“You painted this?”

She grins, sticking up her nose with pride. “I did!” Her lack of reticence surprising.

“S’good.”

He’d never been much of a smooth talker when it came to women. Even when first courting Mary it had taken months to build up to asking her for a kiss. But this wasn’t courting, and he’d do best to remember that.

“As flattered as I am, I know you didn’t come up here just to look at my art.”

“Can a man not appreciate a paintin’?”

“They can,” she says, slinking up to him and running a trail of fire across his chest. Pressing herself flush against him. Her hair smells like rose water — not mud, or sweat, or blood. And it disturbs him to think that the last time he felt the heat from another’s body so close, his hands were wrapped around their neck. The tip of her nose aligns with his collarbone, and he could rest his chin on her crown if he felt bold. “But it would be an awful expensive trip just to look at a picture.”

She steps back slowly to look at him, her absence leaving him cold. For a moment he fears she’s sensed the danger he’s sure he radiates — realising a beat too late, the expected next step of their dance.

“How much do I owe you?” he says, flusteredly reaching into his satchel.

“Five dollars. Anything ‘French’ is an additional two — Though considering I’m due payment from our little sweepstakes, I’d be happy to waive the fee for that on this occasion.”

He’d almost forgotten about the bet placed on his head and wondered how often the women discussed what went on behind closed doors, how he would fair in comparison. He cringes at the thought and tries to push it to the back of his mind.

“I ain’t expectin’ special treatment, don’t worry.”

He hands over five dollars, and with the money on the dresser, Ettie retakes her position. The plainness of the transaction and the affection it now entitled him to feeling implausible.

“Relax a little,” her voice comes out like a breath, encouraging him to breathe deeply in time with her. “It’s okay. We’re gonna have fun.” She guides him over to the bed before stepping back to remove her shirtwaist and skirt, each button revealing new skin he now had permission to touch.

As he stands there watching, something about the ungraceful practicality of her undressing fascinates him, how in contrast it felt to the choreographed movements of the rest of her performance. He wonders if this is her more natural state, all furrowed brows and uncoordinated limbs, and if so, what it took for her to keep up appearances.

When down to her corset and underthings, Ettie faces the mirror to unpin the hair fixed neatly atop her head. He is silent as it falls like water, spilling over the ridge of her shoulders and pooling loosely at the base of her spine.

“Your turn now.” She says, and he hardly has time to react before her nimble fingers are working open the buttons of his shirt.

From this angle, he can see how the sun has caught the high points of her face, leaving behind a sprinkle of freckles lightly masked by powder. The slope of her neck is decorated by loose curls and a small silver locket that bobs up and down above her— He dares not gaze lower. Only as she begins to work at his fly does his sluggish brain arrive at the moment in hand.

“You ain’t taking this off?” His voice comes out hoarser than he expects, and for the first time, Ettie looks a little startled, stepping back to look at him hesitantly. He hadn’t meant to scare her.

“I wasn’t planning on. My draws are split, and this unties. Look—” She pulls the ribbon at her shoulder. And he hates that it’s Ernest’s words that colour his view as the loosened cotton strap of her chemise falls away to expose a pretty breast, pushed up by the boning of her corset. Was the man blind? “It’s a little cumbersome to get on and off.” He aches to see her fully, to touch the skin still hidden from view, but he won’t push.

Her hand dips back into his open fly, sliding between a gap in his union suit. He lets out a wince to feel the pads of her fingers making contact with the base of his dick. “That feel good?” she goads. His whole body gone rigid. Barely able to summon words. Nodding sharply in response, as she begins to ease him out.

The pace in which she palms him feels foreign compared to his hand's efficient strokes, but she is responsive to each breath, learning him with every shudder and tense of his jaw. His eyes flutter closed, and for a moment, he allows himself to get lost in the sensation of her experienced hands. Rare he is permitted such selfish pleasure. Rare anyone did anything for him without expectation of its return tenfold. And yet— The lopsidedness of the arrangement suddenly feels too much to bear. He needs to touch her, needs to make her feel as good as she’s making him.

As her speed quickens, he moves a cautious hand to her breast, cradling her delicately before lightly skimming his thumb across her nipple. Testing. Her rhythm falters slightly, and he is rewarded with a small whimper that escapes half-bitten through her lips. That’s it. He circles the pebbled skin, harder this time, and delights to feel her swell under his touch. Confidence growing, he dips his head lower to taste her. She moans again, but this time unrestrained, head lolling back as he sucks.

“Arthurrr—”

Her strokes hasten, and he needs to hear her keen for him again. Needs to touch her. He reaches down between them, between her legs, trying to find the source of her heat amongst rumpled cotton, but then she is pulling away. Stepping back. Straightening up.

“Hey, this is about you. Don’t worry about me, okay.” She says.

“But—”

“Shhhh, trust me,” Ettie whispers calmly and presses a soft kiss to his forehead. He worries that he has done something wrong, hurt her in some way he didn’t intend, too forceful, too coarse. But like she can read his mind—

“Stay put, I ain’t goin' nowhere.”

She’s good at that, he thinks, toeing the line between gentle and firm. Never going as far to bruise a man’s ego but not coming across as a pushover either. Had she always been that way, or had she learnt how to soothe a man, just as he’d learnt how to intimidate them? Through necessity. What was her natural temperament? What was his?

Ettie walks over to the dresser and grabs a small glass jar, scooping out a little of the contents before returning to the bed.

“You wanna get a little more comfortable?” She says, eyeing his half-open union suit and the jeans around his ankles with amusement. What a sight he must look. But if she was going to remain in her underthings, shouldn’t he? It didn’t seem proper to be exposed when she was not. He kicks off his jeans but leaves his Union suit open, but on.

“What’s that?” He nods to the creamy concoction cupped in her hand.

“Just a little somethin’ for my comfort.” That playful look again. “You are quite… sizable. I wanna make sure I’m ready for you.”

His cheeks darken, her lack of arousal confirming his worst fears.

“Maybe if you let me touch you, you might enjoy it more.”

Her sigh is affectionate. “Who said I wasn’t enjoying myself? Anyone ever told you you worry too much?”

They face each other at the precipice of the bed. His toes curling whilst she slicks up his length with the salve in what feels like one continuous gliding motion, till he is rock hard and panting before her. She shifts herself to bend over the bed, guiding him behind her with a hand on his hip. She arches her back to rest with her forearms on the mattress.

“You ready to show me what you can do, Deputy?”

“Arthur. Please.” He manages to huff out, unable to look away from the way she is presented so brazenly for him.

Ettie gives him a wry grin over her shoulder. “Arthur, I want you to show me what you’ve been dreamin’ on since we first met.” And he wants to show her, too.

Swallowing thickly, he carves a hand between the slit of her draws, spreading them open to finally expose the supple flesh of her backside. The sight alone has his dick twitching in anticipation, helpless to prevent the full handful of her ass he takes in his grasp.

“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” He croaks.

“Might have heard it mentioned.”

He runs a shaky hand through his hair, steadying his breath, before aligning himself with her entrance. He is mindful not to push into her too quickly, and though the salve helps some, he hears her breath hitch in her chest as she takes him, inch by inch.

“Too much?” He asks, trying to mask his trepidation, but he is answered by an enthusiastic grind of her hips, which sheaths him fully inside. He stops breathing for a moment, caught by the clutch of her cunt. Senses all but lost to the sensation of her heat. His lids grow heavy, but the sight of his cock buried to the hilt has him straining to keep them open. Hypnotised by the way she encases him.

He gently rocks himself backwards and then forward, shallow at first and then deeper, slowly increasing his pace with each slap of their hips.

“Ettie-”

“That feel good, Arthur?” So good. So good. And he wishes he could look into those teasing eyes as she spears herself back onto him. At first, matching his tempo and then provoking him to speed up, take her faster, harder.

He won’t last much longer at this rate. And tries to bat away the sinking feeling that that might be something she wants. For this to be over quickly. She’s making all the right noises, but then again, he walked into this room with a badge on his chest, so honesty was hardly something he felt entitled to.

He wants her closer, craving the reassurance only her face could bring. He arches down over her, carefully hooking an arm around her chest, drawing her up into him, until she kneels upright on the bed with him holding her weight from behind, bodies remaining locked.

“This ok?” He huffs.

“Mhmmm” She nods back hazily.

From this position, he can see her better, the rise and fall of her chest, the growing flush that has spread from her cheeks down her neck, the way her eyes shutter when he reaches for her breast, his other seeking out her heat from below. She hums a little then, a sound so pure it answers all suspicions about the authenticity of those proceeding it. God how he wants to watch her come around him, if only he can last long enough to get her there.

His fingers slip between her folds, spreading her open as he continues to fuck up into her, the slick of her cunt undeniably her own making now. Ettie’s back arches wildly as he begins to rub a tight ring around her clit, and she lets out a noise halfway between a shriek and a moan like she is surprised by the pleasure. But when he tries to continue, she is grasping his wrist, pulling it away from her core and bringing it up to her mouth to suck hard on his fingers. The debauched way she looks at him then almost sends him over the edge.

“Come for me, Arthur.”

God, his name sounds like honey on her lips.

“Just like that—”

Surely she’s not inferring what he thinks she is? But he is near losing himself in the thought alone.

“So close—” She coos, “Just let go, fill me—”

Fuck. Fuck—

He drags his erupting cock out of her just in time as he spills violently onto her ass and then the floor, staggering backwards, trying to catch his breath.

“Jesus! Jesus. I nearly— I’m sorry.” He babbles, feeling boorish and out of control.

“Hey there. I know. I said you could.” She says, turning around to run her fingers through his ruffled hair. He looks back at her, confused, still out of breath.

“Ain’t you worried about—” he stops, trying to find the correct phrasing but becoming aware of the fond, almost patronising look on Ettie’s face.

“I ain’t worried, no.” She smiles gently, “Wouldn’t be much good at my job if I didn’t take precautions.”

He nods sheepishly, though still not entirely at ease, before sitting back down at the edge of the bed, sighing deeply, struggling to enjoy the last twitches of his high.

When his breath returns to normal, he grabs his jeans from the foot of the bed, trying not to cringe at the mess he’s made of her and her floor.

“Don’t feel like you have to rush on account of me,” Ettie says, making her way to a small porcelain jug and basin in the corner of the room. She dampens a washcloth and wipes away all trace of his spend still marking her skin.

“Want me to clean you up?” She approaches him cautiously.

“I’m alright.” He says.

She raises a silent eyebrow.

“I mean, I can manage for myself.”

She nods and hands him over the rag. He’s not sure how to feel as he tidies himself up, but he's aware of her eyes on him, watching, trying to figure him out. Knowing he’s been read before she even opens her mouth.

“When did you last lay with a woman, Deputy?”

He pauses. That bluntness that throws his head through a loop. Dangerous. And he doesn’t know how to answer—what she’s wanting to hear— that it was likely five years since he’d been touched like that? That he’d touched someone else? Was she looking for an explanation for his rustiness or an apology?

“Was it obvious?” he asks, unable to fully meet her gaze.

“Well, you ain’t got a ring and—” She hesitates momentarily. “I shouldn’t say it,” The apples of her cheeks start to ripen uncontrollably until she breaks into laughter. “You fuck like you’ve somethin’ to prove.”

He might be inclined to take such a comment to heart if it wasn’t for the pleasure he took in seeing her so genuinely amused, and before he knows it, he’s chuckling too.

“I just didn’t want it to be awful for you.”

Ettie nudges him with her heel. “You paid me to make you feel good. So as long as you had fun, I did too.”

She lights a cigarette and offers him one from her case: silver, engraved with the initials A.B. in an ornate filigree. He accepts and allows her to light the smoke from the tip of her own. He still doesn’t quite know how to make conversation but is relieved to have something to occupy his hands.

“Still wanna see my paints?” She asks after a few moments quiet.

“That’s why I’m up here, ain’t it?” He says wryly. She scoffs before darting across the room, opening draws, rooting through cupboards, pulling things out left and right—a tornado, leaving a trail of smoke in her wake.

When she returns, her arms are laden with supplies, and she settles down next to him cross-legged on the bed, spreading out her wares between them. She opens a battered-looking sketchbook and smooths out the page.

“See,” she says, stroking the paper and encouraging him to do the same. “Just like the paper in your journal—Oh, wait a second.”

She stands abruptly before dashing off again, this time to the water jug. Her back turned, Arthur flicks through the pages and is rapt by a flurry of faces looking back at him. A few he recognises as girls from the parlour, but there are others too: an elderly woman in a bright feathered hat, a rakish-looking man in spectacles, a little girl with pigtails holding a ragdoll, each of them living and breathing on the page like she had rendered their very souls.

“You snoopin’?” Ettie tuts in mock disapproval, though she doesn’t seem bothered by the intrusion. “And after all the grief you gave me for looking at your art.”

Art.

Arthur had never thought about his sketches in that way before. Sure, he sometimes felt pride if he managed to capture something or someone’s likeness in a way that felt true, but he’d never had any training to consider what he did art. Not like the pretty pictures spread out in front of him now. These felt so full of life he swore he wouldn’t be surprised to see one of them moving.

“These are good,” he says as she settles beside him, her thigh resting lightly against his.

She rolls her eyes, then nudges his arm. “Get your journal out— Don’t worry, I don’t wanna look at any of the drawings— Well, I do, but I’m not going to force you. Just want to show you something.”

He relents and gets his journal from his satchel, handing it over suspiciously, realising only after it’s in her hands how reckless he’s being, and for what? He hadn’t asked her about the blood feud between Grays and Braithwaits, nothing about the gold. The only information gleaned was that his dick still worked, and even that had only served him.

Keeping to her word, Ettie opens the book to an untouched page and submerges her paintbrush into the jug, tapping off the excess water and swirling the tip into a square of dried paint. Her hand hovers over the blank page before gliding the brush across the paper in a flourish of crimson, blooming as it settled, like petals opening at dawn.

“Here, you try.”

She dips the brush back into the jug to clean it off before holding it out towards Arthur. Following her direction, he scrubs the brush into a dark green pan and brings his hand to the paper. His line comes out fainter than hers and less fluid, the brush strokes looking scratchy as he reaches the edge of the page.

“Not enough paint. Got to get it saturated.” She smiles. “But look,” she flicks over the page, “it hasn’t gone through.” She starts to explain about wetting the paper before applying the paint, working in layers, letting stuff dry, getting more and more animated, that he starts to laugh.

“You have to start adding colour to your work. I could—” She stops. “You planin’ on seein’ me again?” The question is abrupt, as though she realises she is getting ahead of herself and needs to square off the basics first.

He hadn’t considered that this would be more than a one-time occurrence but he’d be lying if he didn’t acknowledge the sense of relief that had spread throughout his body and mind in the past half hour. More settled than he’d been in months, maybe even years. Perhaps next time he could get some information out of her. Perhaps next time he could prove himself a less selfish lover.

“I’d like to if you’ll have me.”

“Marvellous! Here—” She thrusts a small wooden box into his hands.

“What’s—?”

***

“A watercolour set for travelling. Not amazing quality but perfect for a beginner or someone on the move.” She gives him a wry smile “You can borrow it and show me how you get on next time you see me.”

She’s a whirlwind, and even as he’s riding Branwen back into camp he still feels bowled over. Not sure how he’s agreed to as much as he has, or if he’s being played, or if he cares to stop it.

Tag list: @redwritr, @twola, @ultraporcelainpig, @cassietrn & @milesology

If you would like to be added/removed from the tag list, just let me know! x

#rdr2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x fem!reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x oc #rdr fanfiction #rdr2 fanfic #painted red

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sleepingnova · 2 years ago

Note

imagine miles morales confessing to you that he is spider man after he saves you from something idk I love him

sure thing anon :) I don't know if you wanted this to be a pre - established relationship, so I'm just gonna go on a limb here and do that. sorry this took so long, I had a sudden burst of motivation. it's 1 am, so this isn't proofread

wc : I don't have a fucking clue, how do you check your word count if you're mobile?? I wanna do that 😭

Friendly neighborhood spider - man

pairing: miles morales x journalist reader

summary : being new york's top journalist has its perks, but it always seems to attract the wrong type of attention.

Journalism. It's not for the faint of heart. When you have deadlines to make, interviews to take care of, and people constantly yelling either at you or around you 24 / 7, everything can be a bit time consuming.

That also means you get a lot of attention. Some good, while others..not so much. Sure, its nice to have a free coffee or cake pop every now and then for the articles and the interviews you do; people have always said you have a way with words.

You really don't even know how you got into this situation. The caffeine kicked in, which made you jumpy to everyone and everything, really. Your eyebags were not very nice to look at and to be honest, you looked a mess.

You woke up late for class, you weren't really feeling like getting out of bed anyways but you did it anyway. No makeup, no nice and preppy clothing, just you; and boy did that bite you in the ass. You were 95% sure that all the things you had in life were handed to you because you were pretty. For instance, the guy who hired you literally took one look at you and said "congratulations, you're hired. we could use a pretty girl like you for coffee runs, right sweetheart?"

With balancing college and your career as a journalist, it's not too difficult. So then why'd you end up in this situation? Getting cornered by 3 guys in a dark ass alleyway, and it's 3:05 am.

No one at your job comes close to you when it comes to performance. Every single time. The newest topic of discussion is Brooklyn's number one trending for 7 years straight : spider - man.

"Who was he?" is your focus. The CEO of your job was retiring, and he held a competition to see who would take his spot. He obviously had you in mind, but he wanted to make things fair and you told him you wanted to earn it, not have it given to you.

The challenge was fairly simple: Get an exclusive interview with spider - man and have him answer a couple questions.

You've done exclusives before, not a problem. Until you realized, major problem. He swings around the city 24/7 how in fucks name were you going to catch him? Until an idea came to you. You stayed up all night, then you got hungry, so you left your dorm and walked down the street to the 24 hour convenience store. You liked documenting what you do, so you were recording on your phone where you were going.

After getting some snacks, you left and couldn't shake the feeling you were being followed. You were. By 4 different people. One of whom was none other than the infamous Miles Morales or, well, spider - man. He saw the guys five minutes ago and didn't want to do anything until he knew for sure you were getting followed.

A bit of time passes and miles realizes, he lost you. He hears a muffled shout from down the street so he runs towards it, jumping from rooftop to rooftop.

Now your mind comes back to this exact moment. You can't really make out what the guy in front of you is saying, but you think he's trying to rob you, but why would he need two other guys to rob someone? Especially in the middle of the night. You look dazed and totally not scared at all, Miles thinks, as he's literally invisible right in front of you.

You come out of your trance to one of them forcing you onto the ground. You wiggle and worm your way away, but it's not enough. Fear settled in as you realized what they were doing.

"Hey! Let her go." A voice shouts. You reach into your pocket to grab your pepper spray as you see a bunch of webs and hear hard blows hitting, but it's really dark and you can't see in the dark for shit.

You start running out of the alley and back towards your building, you look back and see the three of them running after you. So you run a little faster, and faster, until you're full on sprinting down the street.

'Thank god my parents forced me into track and field.' you thought, as you got closer and closer to the building. As luck would have it, the doors were locked, and your key was in that bag full of snacks.

They finally catch you, and in a split second, you brace for impact, but it never comes. You're in the air.

You look up and there it is. This is the story that'll get you CEO position, you'll be CEO for the rest of your life. A thought pops into your head as he drops you off at his apartment.

'Was my phone recording everything? Oh shit it was.' you think to yourself as you pull out your phone, your eyes widening.

Another thought pops up. 'oh my god, I'm in spider - man's apartment. it's not even that far from my building.' you wonder as you stop the recording.

"you do know you're going to have to delete that footage, right?" he asks as he lifts up his mask and puts something in his mouth.

"I get your job as a journalist is important, but sweetheart, I gotta keep you safe."

You raise your eyebrow, "how do you know about my job?"

he shrugs as he removes his mask.

"Miles? What the fuck is this? Don't tell me you're.. You're spider - man?" You whisper yell as you back up towards his desk.

"The one and only, love. surprised to see me?" he chuckles.

it was then that everything started to piece together. he always bails on plans, he's always late and has sudden injuries. hell, you even saw his suit in his bag once, but you didn't think anything of it.

"wait.. what does my interview with you have anything to do with keeping me safe?" you raised a brow at him as he plops down on his bed.

"think about it, baby. Me swinging around being spider - man gets pretty complicated when there's an article released by my girlfriend about how she got saved, by me. It puts you in jeopardy, because criminals can find you and use you as bait, and because I don't know that you won't put my identity out there." he explained.

"but you know I'm not like that." you replied.

"yes, I know baby. it's just complicated." he said.

you sighed with a defeated look, knowing that your boss wasn't going to be pleased, but it was for the best.

"if it's alright with you, do you mind if I just stay here for the night? in the morning, on my way to work, I can ask for another key." you asked, softly, him catching your disappointed change in octave.

"yeah sure, that's fine." he replied, walking into his room.

"do you have a spare blanket? I can just sleep out here on the couch." you called to him.

"hm? uh yeah, I think I have a spare. unless you'd like to sleep in my room, with me? the couch is kinda uncomfortable, and it gets kinda cold in here throughout the night." he offered, shyly.

"what about your roommate?" you questioned quietly.

"he won't be back for another week or so, as far as I'm concerned, he'll text if something goes south." he answered.

you thought for a moment, then nodded as you followed him into his room and climbed into his soft bed.

"woah, this is way softer than I thought it would be. what softener do you use when you wash your blankets?" you wondered aloud, cuddling all in his blankets and he chuckled.

"uhhh, I don't know. my roommate does laundry. I don't ever go with him unless he needs me to, which isn't often." he responded.

'ah.' you thought.

"aren't you going to spoon me? c'mon miles, please?" you pleaded with the tired, little puppy dog eyes miles swore he hated, because he could never say no to you when you made that face.

"I'm sorry, I have a couple of essays to write still. Why don't you get the bed nice and warm, then I'll be in bed before you know it." he cooed.

your eyelids started to get heavy as you let out a small hum as you started to fall asleep.

when you woke up the next day, it was 8 am and there was a small basket in the chair next to you.

the basket was filled with your snacks from the night before all wrapped up in the bag still, a hoodie and some clothes to wear to class, a water bottle and a nice book for you to read. on the desk, there was your favorite iced coffee and a note with absolutely beautiful penmanship.

you smiled as you read the letter.

[ hello,

spider man here!

I only have time to answer one of your questions right now, so here it is.

Being a hero isn't about being famous or rich, it's about your own morals and how you stick to them. I started the whole "spiderman" thing when I was 14 years old. It was hard, I had just lost a family member and I felt isolated from my family. You wouldn't believe me if I said that under the mask, I'm just an ordinary person, just like all of you, but I am, really.

I chose to be a hero because I believed in helping others. I really have to leave, so I can't say much more.

Remember, anyone can wear the mask.

Until next time,

—your friendly neighborhood spider man. ]

while you knew that you couldn't tell anyone about who was really under the mask, a part of you felt proud that he trusted you with his secret.

should I make another part to this? likes and reblogs are always appreciated :>

#miles morales x reader #miles morales #into the spider verse #spiderman

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