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#But he feels uncomfortable and stressed out all the time and takes his frustration out on me and ways he might assume are harmless even
chatonmagique · 1 year
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My bf is very selective with what he wants ro hear. Anything that has a possibility of provoking conflict or criticism stresses him out to the point he flat out just won't respond. He can be so distant that I end up asking wether he still hears me with no answer to that either. All while still being able to consciously do activities on his phone. At that point it doesn't matter what I say. Sometimes it's less bad and he will respond to other more superficial and enjoyable topics (like pokemon or getting a hamster) But it makes me feel frustrated and lonely when that happens still. I know it's very likely related to trauma but I don't understand it very well and barely have any idea how to adapt to his (lack of) response. I guess when something makes me unfortable or annoyed I just have to point it out in the moment and just have to accept I won't always get an answer in hopes he has at least heard me. Because when I come back to a topic that bothers me later on and continue talking about it or asking him questions chances are high he only will hear half of it while I grow only more frustrated by the lack of respone.
#Tonights point of discussion was that he often makes me oncomfortable (like holding me back when I want to go put on my pajama's)#and struggle to get out of his grip because I just wanna keep going to be ready for bed and saying stop multiple times#This often happens with different things#I say I don't want something#or feel uncomfortable en he won't listen to me when I tell him to stop#I tell him it makes me feel like he doesn't respect me and values my needs/wishes and ask him what will make him listen to me better#then he just says when he is feeling comfortable first#But he feels uncomfortable and stressed out all the time and takes his frustration out on me and ways he might assume are harmless even#though he often accidentally hurts me because he gas bad muscle controle and is a little clumsy#Then my point of critique is I'm frustrated because his needs in his own discomfort are more inportant then mine and I feel like I don't#matter no matter how much he loves me#I don't feel cared about like that when he barely even wants to listen to me and stop when I ask#And then he seeks distraction on his phone#starts shaking and becomes distant and completely silent#I won't let it bother me as much because it happened so many times and I will only stress him out more when go on about it for much longer#So then I try to say things that come off more mildly and try to calm him down so we will be able to sleep#During the day this still happens but even more so at night which is the worst time to get frustrated about anything honestly#Gos I just really am tired and I'm gonna try to follow my own tips lmao#I'm not sure if I'm just too critical/dramatic and asking for too much#I should probably keep it very short and direct without being more negative then neccesary#while keeping assumptions at bay#personal#Jokes on the post underneath me with my example above#I didn't mean it that literal
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thetriumphantpanda · 1 month
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mine, all mine | joel miller
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Summary | You & Joel have been skirting around whatever this is for years, until he finally breaks and calls it what it is, in the only way he knows how.
Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader
Word Count | 1.2K
Warnings | Post-Outbreak, Jackson!Joel, possessive!Joel, rough sex, spit play, unprotected PiV sex, cumshot, cumplay, dirty talk, emotionally unavailable Joel, it's basically just 1.2k of filth tbh, no use of y/n
Authors Note | This one goes out to @undercoverpena who gave me the means to rewatch TLOU. This was the outcome. Enjoy the filth.
Divider by @saradika
Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi
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He’s got your wrists caught together in one of his big hands, pressed down into the mattress to keep you still. Your thighs splayed wide, pressed down almost uncomfortably by the width of his hips. His cock is splitting you open and you’re so impossibly wet that you can hear it whenever he pushes himself back into you. He likes it, wild grin on his face whenever that lewd squelch makes itself known, he likes that only he can do this to you, only he can make you this wet, only he can get you to submit so completely like this.
It’s been two years of this. Two years of being pressed into his bed in the dead of night. Two years of dancing around what this is, but enjoying it all the same. You don’t think you need to label it, complicate it, not when it feels this good. You’d happily go the rest of your days not knowing what you and Joel Miller are if it means he’s going to stay like this. It started as stress relief, a lot like how it had been with the other people here in Jackson that had fallen into your bed - him, frustrated from patrol or whatever it was going on with Ellie, you, frustrated with… well, mostly everything these days. When he’s inside you, there are no frustrations, only the low thrum of pleasure across your skin.
Things have changed though, maybe in the past six months. He stands closer to you when you’re at the bar, sometimes puts a hand on the small of your back when someone else tries to talk to you. Subtle messages that say back the fuck off or she’s mine without needing to put real words to it. He doesn’t say it, even here, when he’s deep inside you, doesn’t beg you to tell him who you belong to, but then you suppose he doesn’t have to - you’ve not fucked anyone else since this started, no-one would hold a candle to him, and you know he doesn’t fuck anyone else either.
“You hear that?” His gruff voice asks, pulling you back to the present as his cock drags from your cunt, pushing back in slowly, and you do, that squelch of him pushing back inside you as deep as he can fit, you throw your head back, moan his name, “Yeah you do,” His face buries into your neck, teeth dragging across delicate skin, “Hear how wet I gotcha?”
You let your eyes open, fluttering slowly to reveal how close he is to your face. He’s so fucking beautiful like this - skin covered in sweat, brows pinched together in pleasure, his scars and his wrinkles visible so closely, the grey in his beard and the smattering of hair on his chest pressed against yours, you won’t ever grow tired of this.
“S-so fucking g-good, Joel.” You choke out on another drag of his cock, tip pressed right against the depths of you, dragging deliciously against that spot inside you.
“I know, baby, I know,” He coos, nudging the side of your face with his nose, hot breath so close to your ear as he continues the languid strokes of himself in and out of your spent cunt, “Bein’ so good f’me.”
His praise never fails to make you preen, face rolling to the side, exposing the side of your neck to him that he hasn’t already marked. You feel the tight grip around your wrists loosen, his hand taking hold of your chin instead, pulling you back to look at him, brown eyes glazed almost black with lust as he looks down at you. There’s something different there this time, sure he’s always been intense, but he’s looking at you this time like he wants to devour you whole - to cut you open and eat you from the inside.
“You’re mine, aren’t you?” He whispers, hand around your face moving to shake you so your focus is on him and not on the way his thrusts have started getting harder, “Say it.”
“M’yours,” You manage to get out, but he shakes your head again, “Yours, m’yours Joel.”
“That’s right,” He bends, hand still gripping your chin, and licks into your mouth, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth, teeth nipping gently, “My girl.”
You almost can’t believe it, like this is some kind of dream, your wildest fantasy come true that he does want you, that it’s not just your pussy he covets but everything else you bring.
“Y-you mean it?” You speak, breathless, “I’m yours?”
You bring a hand up to his face now, cradling a cheek, thumb tracing his bottom lip, but he’s shaking your hand away, his own still tight against your face, “Open your mouth,” but you’re confused about why, so it takes you a while for your brain to catch up, “Open your damn mouth baby.”
This time you do, lips parted, tongue out, Joel’s fingers sitting in the hinges of your jaw, dragging your head forward a little, then, he purses his lips, opens his mouth and lets his saliva drip from his own mouth into your, caught on the flat of your tongue. It’s hot, probably the hottest thing he’s even done. You curl your tongue over it, dragging your mouth closed to swallow it down, then, you open your mouth, stick your tongue back out and look him straight in the eye to ask for more.
“Fuckin’ filthy,” He mutters, but there’s a grin on his face, his cock still pounding into you, the feeling of your slick, made more by what he’d just down, gathering at the base of his cock, dripping down onto the sheets below, “Y’like that, huh?”
“Uh-huh.” Is the only thing you can get out before he’s doing it again, letting his own spit drip from his mouth into yours.
This time though, he doesn’t give you the option to swallow it. He lets go of your face, his tongue melding with yours at the precise spot that his spit had just landed on. It’s a filthy, wet, open-mouthed kiss, saliva gathering in your corners of your mouth as you moan into his when he shifts his hips just a little, tip of his cock now bruising into your cervix on every punch forward.
It happens all at once, his lips dragging from yours, his cock dragging out of your pussy as he pushes backwards, cock in his fist for barely a second before the first rope of his spend is spurting across your soaked and aching folds. Joel lets out a growl as the next lands across the soft skin of your tummy, the next between the valley of your tits. He’s dragging a tight fist up and down the length of his cock, squeezing lightly at his tip to empty himself of every drop of cum, painting your skin with it until he’s softening in his fist and you’re trying to catch your breath.
Joel lets his hands grip your hips, dragging his thumbs through the pools of cum across your lower body, rubbing gently through it to spread it as far as he can, “Look nice like this,” He muses, looking down at the mess he’s made of you, from the aching red hue of your spent cunt, to the milky white splashed across your body, “Mine.” He says, with a tone of finality.
“Yours.”
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pucksandpower · 7 months
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Breaking Point
Charles Leclerc x Ferrari!Reader
Summary: Charles Leclerc finally reaches his breaking point after the disaster that was the United States Grand Prix. Something needs to change … and that’s where you come in
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“Again, again!” Charles’ voice rings out, echoing through the debrief room, “How can we mess this up? I was on pole!”
Fred Vasseur looks down, sighing, but trying to maintain composure. “Charles, it was a miscalculation—”
“A miscalculation?” Charles retorts, eyes blazing, “This has been a trend all season, Fred. It’s not a one-time mistake. It’s systemic.”
Carlos, looking uncomfortable, tries to chime in, “It wasn’t just about strategy, you know the car—”
“Oh, I know the car,” Charles snaps, “And it was built against my driving preference. But it’s not just that. It’s everything. The poor race strategy, the unnecessary swap, and now being disqualified as if my day has not been bad enough!”
Enrico Cardile, the team’s technical director, steps forward, “Disqualification was not anticipated. We followed the regulations to the best—”
“Enough with the excuses!” Charles’ voice cracks with emotion. The weight of the season, the betrayal he feels, finally makes him see red. “Every time there’s an excuse. We’re a team and yet somehow it feels like I’m constantly battling not just our opponents but Ferrari as well.”
A deep silence settles.
The head strategist, Ravin Jain, finally speaks up hesitantly, “We thought the one-stop made sense. The data suggested—”
“Data,” Charles interrupts bitterly, “The same data that led to a decision that every other team on the grid laughed at! Did the data also suggest swapping me with Carlos? Or was I being punished for being able to manage my tires?”
Carlos, despite himself, looks hurt. “I didn’t ask for the swap,” he mutters.
Charles takes a breath, looking at his teammate, “I know. It’s not your fault, hermano. But I need to trust the team’s decisions. And right now, I don’t.”
Sporting Director Diego Ioverno tries to mediate, “It’s been a tough season, Charles. Everyone is understandably stressed. Let’s sit down, review everything together, and find a way forward.”
Charles shakes his head, “That’s what we said last time. And the time before that. And the twenty times before that! Empty promises, meetings, discussions, and then what? Nothing gets done and there is another disaster waiting to happen.”
Fred tries one more time, “We’re as frustrated as you are. We’re a family. We’ll figure this out.”
Charles scoffs, “I can’t keep being let down and used. Not like this.”
The room falls silent once more, a heavy cloud of disappointment and tension hanging in the air.
Carlos reaches out, placing a hand on Charles’ shoulder, “Things will get better.”
Charles meets Carlos’ gaze, nodding slightly. But the fire in his eyes has not dimmed, “I need to believe in this team again. But right now ...” He pauses, “I have a call to make.”
He turns, leaving the room filled with introspective silence. The team is left behind, grappling with their own emotions, knowing that actions will always speak louder than words.
***
Charles steps out into the warm evening air, taking a moment to compose himself before dialing a number he knows by heart but hasn’t touched in months.
“Hey,” Charles’ voice is a low rasp, every ounce of weariness evident.
Then a pause, as he listens to the voice on the other end.
“Yeah, it’s me ... look, I know what I said earlier this season. About handling it myself.” He takes a deep breath, letting the weight of it all settle.
A longer pause, broken by Charles’ intermittent nods and “Uh-huhs.”
“Every race feels like it’s been one disaster after another. And it’s not just the car, it’s everything. I can’t ... I can’t keep doing this to myself.”
He listens closely.
“I told them today, laid it all out. But it’s like talking to a brick wall. They listen, they nod, and then? The same mistakes. Over and over.”
He shifts his weight, the sound of his shoes scraping on the gravel echoing softly.
“I know, I know I told you not to get involved ... but maybe ... maybe that was a mistake.” He sounds defeated, a man at the end of his rope. “I need help. Real help. Maybe it’s time you step in.”
Charles is silent, absorbing whatever the person on the other end is saying.
“No, it’s not about leaving the team,” Charles’ voice is earnest, desperate even. “It’s about respect. Trust. It’s about feeling like I’m not constantly fighting against the tide, not just against other teams but within my own garage.”
A long pause.
“What I mean is, maybe some changes within the team would be good. Fresh perspectives. New faces, perhaps. Somewhere I can trust the decisions, the strategy ...”
He sighs.
“I just want to race, you know? Without all this drama. Without constantly wondering if I’m being set up to fail no matter what I do.”
Another pause as he listens, nodding, lost in the gravity of the decision he’s about to make.
“Thank you. Really. Let’s talk tomorrow? Lay out all our options?”
There’s a moment of quiet, only the sound of his breathing, the distant hum of the circuit, the world slowly dimming around him.
“Thanks. Goodnight, Y/N.”
***
“Emilia,” you call out, and before a moment passes, your ever-efficient personal assistant is by your side.
“Yes, Y/N?” Emilia asks, perfectly poised.
“I need the jet prepared. We’re heading to Mexico City,” you say, voice steady and determined though inside, the turmoil from the phone call with Charles still lingers.
Emilia raises an eyebrow slightly, a silent question in her eyes. “Any particular reason?”
You sigh, looking away for a moment, reflecting on the weight of the legacy you carry. “Scuderia Ferrari needs my direct attention. I trusted them to handle things, but ... it’s clear that has not been happening.”
Her eyes flash with understanding. “Of course. I’ll have the jet ready. When do you wish to depart?”
“Tomorrow morning, early.”
She’s already typing into her tablet. “I’ll book you the Presidential Suite at the Four Seasons. Will you be needing a meeting space there?”
“Absolutely,” you nod. “On Wednesday, before the Grand Prix. Organize for all team personnel to meet in the hotel conference room. And Emilia ... they are not to know the reason for the meeting or that I’m the one calling it.”
Her eyes gleam with a hint of mischief, “Mystery and surprise. I love it. Consider it done.”
A small, wry smile tugs at your lips. “Thank you. And can you make sure Charles knows about my arrival? But ask him to keep it quiet.”
“Of course. Anything else?”
You pause, taking a moment to consider. “Just one more thing. Make sure we have everything we need to review the team’s decisions and strategies for this season. Every little detail.”
Emilia nods. “Absolutely. Everything will be arranged as per your instructions.”
You take a deep breath, “Thanks, Emilia. This … it’s about preserving a legacy, and right now, that legacy is on shaky ground.”
She places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, “If anyone can steer this ship right, it’s you.”
***
The door to the conference room opens with a low creak, and the room immediately falls silent. Everyone turns to see you entering, your presence commanding every ounce of attention.
“Good afternoon,” you begin with ice-cold authority. “Thank you all for meeting on such short notice.”
There are murmurs of acknowledgment but no one dares speak up.
“I’ve reviewed our performance this season,” you continue, pacing the length of the conference room, letting each word sink in. “And to say I’m disappointed would be an understatement.”
Fred shifts uncomfortably in his seat, eyes darting around the room. You lock eyes with him, “Fred, you promised change. But the only change I’ve seen is our team’s steep decline.”
“I understand your frustration,” Fred stammers, “We’ve faced challenges—”
You cut him off sharply, “Challenges? Every team faces challenges. What matters is how you overcome them.”
Several team members look down, uncomfortably shuffling papers and avoiding eye contact.
You turn to the strategists, “Your decisions have cost us dearly, time and time again. Your inability to read a race situation, to adapt, to strategize effectively ... it’s quite frankly appalling.”
One of the strategists, a middle-aged man named Roberto, speaks up defensively, “We did our best with the information we had.”
Your eyes narrow, “Your best? Tell that to Charles, who has been left out in the cold race after race.”
Moving on, you address the engineers and designers, “Our car has issues that should have been rectified at the beginning of the season. Yet here we are, still struggling.”
An aerodynamicist named Lucia, clearly agitated, stands up. “We’ve been working tirelessly, trying to find solutions.”
You level her with a gaze, “Then maybe it’s time we look for people who can find those solutions more efficiently.”
Lucia’s face reddens, “You can’t just—”
“Actually I can,” you interrupt, “And I will.”
Your attention turns to Xavi, Charles’ race engineer, who has been noticeably silent. “Xavi, your dynamic with Charles has not been the slightest bit helpful. His feedback, his needs ... they’ve fallen on deaf ears.”
Xavi, trying to defend himself, says, “It’s a two-way street. Charles can be difficult.”
You shake your head, “Charles is a world-class driver. It’s your job to bridge any gaps, not widen them. I checked and it turns out that constantly repeating we are checking like a broken record is not beneficial for race performance!”
Taking a deep breath, you make your announcement, “Effective immediately, Roberto, Lucia, and several other strategists, engineers, and aerodynamicists that a personal audit revealed as detrimental to team performance relieved of their duties. Xavi, you too are let go.”
There are gasps around the room, the weight of your words sinking in. Roberto stands, fuming in anger, “You can’t just dismantle this team!”
You lock eyes with him, “I’m not dismantling. I’m rebuilding. And if that means letting go of every one of you who can’t uphold the standards of Scuderia Ferrari then so be it.”
Fred finally speaks up, “And what about me?”
You lean in, “Consider your position on very thin ice. I expect results. And fast.”
You straighten up, the room thick with tension, “Scuderia Ferrari is not just a team, it’s a legacy. My great-grandfather would be rolling in his grave to see what has been done to his beloved team. I will not stand by and watch it crumble.”
With a final, piercing gaze around the room, you pivot on your heel and exit with a flick of your hair.
***
You lean against the cool wall, taking a moment to gather yourself after the emotional intensity of the meeting. The hallway is quiet save for the distant hum of voices but soon familiar footsteps make their way around the corner.
“Charles,” you call out softly as spot the driver.
His green eyes, clouded with a mix of emotions, meet yours. “Y/N.”
“Are you okay?”
He hesitates, “I wasn’t expecting all of that.”
You nod, “It was long overdue. I should have intervened much sooner.”
Charles runs a hand through his hair, clearly trying to process everything. “It’s ... a lot. I didn’t think you would actually step in like this.”
You sigh, “I hoped I wouldn’t have to. But my bisnonno once said that aerodynamics are for people who can’t build engines, and right now, it sure seems like Ferrari can’t do either.”
Charles chuckles dryly, “You have a point. It’s been ... frustrating.”
You gently touch his arm, trying to reassure him, “Enzo also believed that dreams become bigger, much bigger, to build a car that doesn’t slow in the curves, that flies without leaving the ground. I want that dream for you. For us.”
He looks at you, “It’s all I’ve ever wanted. A car that allows me to race to my full potential.”
You nod, thinking of the iconic red car and its tremendous legacy, “I know. And we’ll get there. Remember, racing cars are neither beautiful nor ugly. They become beautiful when they win.”
A smile tugs at Charles’ lips, “I haven’t won in too long. I almost forget what it feels like.”
You step closer, “That is going to change. I’m here for the long haul. To rebuild, restructure, and reclaim the Ferrari legacy. Glory will be dressed in red once more.”
He nods and swallows thickly. “Thank you, Y/N. It means more than you know.”
You smile softly, “We’re a team. And I promise to do whatever it takes to see us on top again.”
***
Early that Friday at Autódromo Hermanos Rodríguez, you gather the team in the garage.
“Good morning, everyone,” you begin. “I know it has been a whirlwind these past few days but I want to set the tone for this weekend.”
Fred, still adjusting to the new dynamic, nods silently from the back.
“We haven’t had the time to implement any physical changes to the car,” you continue, “But they are coming. For now, the difference will be about being smart … being strategic.”
Charles listens intently, his gaze occasionally drifting to the newcomers in front of him.
Speaking of the new additions, you gesture to the two people standing on either side of you, “I’ve brought on Marit Nilsen as our Principal Strategy Engineer and Claudio Segreti as Charles’ new race engineer. Not only are they exceptional engineers but also global chess masters.”
There are murmurs of surprise and interest among the crew. The world of Formula 1 and professional chess has rarely, if ever, intersected.
Marit, a tall woman with striking blonde hair, steps forward, “Chess is all about strategy, foreseeing the opponent’s moves and countering them. That’s what we’re here to do but on the track.”
Claudio, with his dark hair and deep-set eyes, adds, “Every move and decision we make will be precise. We’ll anticipate, adapt, and overcome.”
Carlos clears his throat, “So what’s the plan for free practice?”
You smile, “Today, we observe. We learn. We see where the car stands, where our strengths and weaknesses lie.”
As free practice commences, there’s a different energy in the garage. Marit, with her sharp analytical mind, quickly picks up on patterns, working closely with Claudio and Carlos’ engineer to ensure both drivers get feedback they need.
There’s a visible shift throughout the weekend. The team, rejuvenated by fresh perspectives, operates with a renewed vigor. And while the car may not have upgrades yet, new strategy quickly begins to make a difference like anticipated.
Qualifying sees Charles securing P3, an unexpected but welcome result. The garage is full of cautious hope but Marit and Claudio remain focused, already planning for the race to come.
Race day dawns and the tension is thick. You pull Charles aside, “Remember, things have changed. Believe in the strategy and the moves we make.”
He nods, “I trust them. And I trust you.”
As the lights go out and the cars roar to life, Charles delivers a performance that’s both calculated and aggressive. Every pit stop and every overtake is orchestrated like a chess match.
The race sees Charles finishing in P2 and Carlos in P4, a significant improvement from recent races.
The garage is a mix of tentative elation and relief.
Marit thoroughly reviews the race data, “This is just the beginning. Once the car upgrades are in place, the board will be ours.”
The sun sets on the Mexico City Grand Prix, but for Scuderia Ferrari, a new dawn is on the horizon.
***
“Fabiano Turati,” you muse, looking at the impressive portfolio before you. “Aerospace engineer, a key player in the development of hypercars for Agnellotti Motors, a professor at Politecnico di Milano. But never in F1?”
Fabiano, with salt and pepper hair and an air of quiet confidence, smiles slightly. “It’s not for lack of offers. I have just always believed in pushing boundaries outside of traditional paths.”
You lean back, intrigued, “So why Ferrari now?”
His eyes scan around the garage, “A challenge. An opportunity. A legacy to uphold. And, to put it simply, I think I can make a difference.”
You nod, appreciative of his candor. “We have three races left this season: Brazil, Las Vegas, and Abu Dhabi. Realistically, how much can we improve?”
You can practically see the gears in his brain turning, “In terms of complete redesign? Not much. But in terms of optimization and efficiency? Quite a bit.”
By the Brazilian Grand Prix, Fabiano’s influence is evident. While not a complete transformation, the SF-23 sports streamlined wings and a refined rear diffuser, maximizing what the current design allows.
“Initial feedback is good,” Charles reports after the practice session. “There’s a notable difference in the corners.”
Carlos chimes in, “The balance feels better.”
The improvements are evident, with both Ferraris finishing just off the podium. But Las Vegas poses a new challenge: a circuit unfamiliar to all teams and drivers.
“This is anyone’s game,” Marit says, examining the track layout.
Fabiano nods, “This weekend will be all about adaptation.”
The Las Vegas Grand Prix is an exhilarating rollercoaster. Charles fights for a podium finish, narrowly missing out but showcasing the SF-23’s newfound prowess, while Carlos secures a solid sixth.
As the season finale in Abu Dhabi looms, anticipation runs high. The Yas Marina Circuit will end the year with a test of Ferrari’s mettle.
Post-race, with both Ferraris finishing on the podium after avoiding a pile up that took out multiple opponents, there’s a sense of satisfaction but also of hunger.
“We’ve made progress,” Fabiano says as the garage winds down. “But next season, we’ll aim for a car that is not just evolved but fully revolutionized.”
You smile, “With you on board, I truly believe we can. The future is bright for Scuderia Ferrari.”
***
“Look at her,” Fabiano muses, admiration clear as the blueprint for the SF-24 is spread out before you both in your Maranello office.
“She’s a beauty,” you agree, tracing your fingers over the schematics. “If she performs half as well as she looks ...”
“She will,” Fabiano leaves no room for doubt. “We’ve streamlined the aerodynamics, enhanced the power unit, and made significant weight reductions.”
Carlos walks in with a grin on his face, “Is this the beast we’re taming next season?”
“That’s the plan.”
Charles catches your eye from where he lingers by the door. “It’s a fresh start,” he murmurs, approaching the table almost reverently. “I feel it.”
Over the following weeks, you rarely leave the factory other than to sleep and shower. You immerse yourself with the team, observing wind tunnel tests, joining strategy sessions, and even trying your hand with pit stop drills.
One evening, after a particularly long meeting, Charles finds you in the lounge, sipping an espresso. “Mind if I join you?”
You gesture to the seat across, “Of course not.”
He sits and just looks at you until you get the urge to fidget. “I’ve been thinking,” Charles begins, “About the changes, the car, and ... us.”
You raise an eyebrow, “Us?”
Charles smiles slightly, “You and I. We’ve spent so much time together these past weeks. I’ve gotten to know you, not just as Y/N Ferrari but as ... Y/N.”
You flush and not just from the hot coffee, “I feel the same. It’s been ... refreshing. Getting to know the man behind the helmet.”
He leans forward, elbows on the table, “There’s this great little place just outside Maranello. Quiet, hidden. I was thinking, maybe, dinner?”
Your heart skips a beat but you maintain your composure, “I’d really like that.”
The winter in Maranello unfolds, and as the SF-24 takes shape, so does the bond between you and Charles.
Between brainstorming sessions and late-night discussions about optimal setups, there are stolen moments: shared glances, lingering touches, and dinners that stretch long into the night talking about anything and everything.
Carlos teases, “Seems like the new car isn’t the only thing igniting sparks.”
You roll your eyes but there’s no hiding the smile tugging at your lips. You don’t try to deny it. Why bother when you hope it might be true one day?
***
r/formula1
Posted by RaceRundown · 6 hours ago
First look at the SF-24! Thoughts?
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RedFever · 6 hours ago
This could be the machine that keeps Ferrari at the top. Just look at those lines!
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PitStopPundit · 5 hours ago
Getting major 2004 vibes from this. Could be a dominant year for the Scuderia!
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***
You step into the air-conditioned motorhome, grateful for an escape from the Bahraini heat. Charles and Carlos, race suits unzipped around their waists, are animatedly discussing their first day of preseason testing with the SF-24.
“Last year, we didn’t have to sandbag because the car was, well … genuinely that slow,” Charles laughs. “But this time around ...”
Carlos grins, finishing his sentence. “This time, we have an ace up our sleeves.”
You nod, “Just remember, it’s only testing. We still have to see where we truly stand.”
The race weekend finally kicks off and the paddock is full of speculation. After a deliberately unimpressive showing during testing, no one expects Ferrari to be a front-runner.
Yet, when the lights go out, the SF-24 does not just impress …. it dominates. Charles takes P1 with Carlos not far behind in P3. And the world takes notice.
The next few races see a rejuvenated Ferrari. In Saudi Arabia, Charles and Carlos deliver a nail-biting duel with Red Bull, securing a double podium. Australia is a tougher battle, with Mercedes coming to form, but Charles clinches a respectable P4.
The Asian leg of the season has its highs and lows. In Japan, despite a torrential downpour, Charles masterfully handles the wet track to clinch the top step. On the podium, he points up at the sky and then shapes his fingers — first into a one and then a seven — a silent tribute to his late godfather and mentor.
However, China proves challenging and sees the SF-24 struggling unusually with tire degradation. But as Miami approaches, the team regroups and Charles takes a commanding win under the Florida sun.
Then comes Imola, the first of Ferrari’s home races.
As the sun shines brightly over the circuit named after your great-grandfather and grand uncle, you find yourself walking the track alongside Charles. The weight of racing on home soil evident in his eyes.
“Everything okay?” You check, sensing his nervous energy.
He looks at you and taking a deep breath. “Racing in front of the Tifosi at home always feel different. I want to make them proud.”
“No matter what happens today, they will be proud of you. The whole team will be proud of you. We’ve come so far.”
He smiles, visibly lighter. “Then let’s give them a race to remember.”
And it is nothing short of spectacular. Charles starts P2, but with determination and brilliant strategy, he overtakes Max in the final lap and secures a victory for Ferrari on home soil.
The roar of the crowd, the sea of red flags, the tears in Charles’ eyes as he stands atop the podium — you make a promise to never forget this moment.
As the sun sets on Imola, the Scuderia Ferrari team comes together, basking in their victory.
As Charles, champagne-soaked and beaming, pulls you in for a damp hug, it is clearer than ever that this season is only the beginning of a beautiful journey ahead.
***
“Norris is approaching on a flying lap. Make sure not to impede,” Claudio’s voice comes through crisp and clear over the radio during the dying moments of Q3 for the Monaco Grand Prix.
You can practically feel Charles’ concentration from where you’re seated on the Ferrari pit wall. The narrow streets of Monaco leave no room for error … Charles knows this better than most.
“Copy,” Charles responds, adjusting his position on the track just enough to give Lando the space he needs to pass while keeping his own momentum.
The clock is ticking and Charles needs a perfect lap if he wants to clinch pole position.
“Tires are feeling good. Pushing now,” Charles says, rounding the first corner with precision. The SF-24 dances around the iconic circuit, the roar of its engine echoing through the streets.
From Casino Square to the hairpin and through the tunnel, Charles’ driving is flawless. Every apex hit and every corner nailed.
“Final sector, Charles. Make it count,” Claudio encourages.
And he does. Crossing the line and jumping to the top of the timing board.
The garage cheers but there’s no time to waste. Tomorrow’s race is what truly matters.
***
Race day in Monaco is always special, but today, with Charles starting from pole, there’s an electric tension in the air.
“Lights out in ten,” Marit announces over the intercom.
Charles, already in the zone, simply nods.
And then he’s lined up on the front row.
The lights illuminate one by one. Then, in a heartbeat, they go out.
The race is on.
Charles gets a strong start, holding off challengers through the initial turns. The streets of Monaco are notoriously difficult for overtaking, so track position is everything.
“Maintain the pace. Tire management is key,” Claudio advises as the laps progress.
As the race unfolds, strategy becomes crucial.
“Plan to box in two laps,” Marit instructs through Claudio. With with Verstappen close on his tail, everything must be executed perfectly.
The pit stop is lightning-fast, the crew working in synchrony. Charles emerges just ahead of Max, who had followed him into the pits.
Throughout the race, Charles’ skill shines. He manages his tires, navigates the backmarkers, and keeps a razor-sharp focus.
The final laps approach. The team, the spectators, the entire Principality holds its breath.
The chequered flag waves and Charles crosses the finish line to takes his first home win. The elation, the pride, the sheer emotion of the moment is overwhelming.
“Monaco, Charles! You’ve won Monaco!”
Tears in his eyes, Charles responds, voice choked, “We did it! This is for Monaco. This is for Ferrari. Grazie mille. Merci beaucoup.”
The team gathers beneath the podium, celebrating their victory and the hometown here. Charles quickly sprays the two drivers beside him before aiming the bottle at the sea of red cheering in front of him and soaking his team in champagne.
He thinks back to how this weekend ended last season and let’s his elation wash away the years of dejected he faced before.
Things are different now.
***
“I’ve never seen Monaco come alive like this after a win,” you shout over the pulsating music in one of the city’s many upscale clubs.
Charles grins, leaning in closer so you can hear him. “It’s the magic of a home race victory!”
As the night turns to early morning, alcohol flows freer and the laughter grows louder.
The Ferrari team loves any reason to celebrate and they’re certainly making the most of the location.
Charles pulls you to a quieter corner of the VIP section. “Have you ever danced with a Monaco Grand Prix winner?”
You roll your eyes at the attempt at flirting but laugh as you accept his outstretched hand. “There’s a first time for everything.”
The two of you dance, losing track of time.
The world blurs around you. All that matters is the magnetic pull between you two which has been simmering for so long that it is threatening to overflow.
Charles pulls you closer, his lips brushing your ear. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you.”
You relish in the warmth of his breath against your skin. “What’s that?”
“I’m drawn to you,” he admits, eyes searching yours. “Not just because of tonight but ... there’s something between us. I feel it. And I think you do too.”
You swallow hard. “I do.”
He hesitates before wrapping an arm around your waist, “Come with me.”
Without a word, you both exit the club, making your way to his apartment. The air between you is thick with anticipation but also vulnerability … openness.
Once inside, he gently pushes you against the wall, lips crashing onto yours. It’s passionate and intense, like a dam that has been waiting to break.
Charles pulls away slightly, “Are you sure about this?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” you whisper, eyes locked with his. “But ... Charles, not just for tonight. I don’t want this to be just a result of a victory high or the Monaco night air.”
He cups your face, thumb brushing your cheek. “I don’t want that either. This isn’t about the race or the party. It’s about us. I think it’s been about us for a while now.”
“Then why didn’t you say something sooner?”
He chuckles softly. “You think it’s easy, being around you every day, wanting to be close but maintaining a distance for the sake of professionalism? To spend every evening when we’re in Maranello sitting across from you at dinner and wishing that I could call it a date? But tonight,” he pauses, eyes searching yours, “Tonight felt different.”
You waste no time to draw him closer. “No more waiting then.”
***
Canada’s Circuit Gilles Villeneuve echoes with the roar of engines and the cheers of fans. Charles dominates the track, mastering the chicanes and the notorious Wall of Champions.
But the race isn’t straightforward. Mid-race, strategy suddenly changes when an unexpected rain shower soaks the track. However, the new strategy team you’ve brought in makes all the right calls and Charles takes the chequered flag.
In the Spanish sun, it’s a different story. The high-speed corners expose a slight flaw in the SF-24 which leaves Charles fighting valiantly but finishing third.
Despite the setback, you see determination in his eyes. “We’ll get them in Austria,” he promises.
True to his word, at the Red Bull Ring, he dominates. The SF-24 suits the straights and fast corners. Charles takes pole and leads every lap, building a gap that the competition can’t close. The victory feels even sweeter given the circuit’s name.
Silverstone proves challenging. There’s fierce competition, and while Charles doesn’t win, he’s involved in one of the most thrilling wheel-to-wheel battles of the season with Max Verstappen. They exchange positions multiple times, showing pure racing talent. In the end, Charles finishes a proud second after a photo finish.
The Hungarian Grand Prix tests the team. Tire strategy becomes paramount. The SF-24 shows vulnerabilities in the surprisingly sweltering conditions. Still, Charles’ impeccable driving and some cunning strategy calls earn him a place on the podium.
At the Circuit de Spa-Francorchamps, Charles shines brilliantly. He conquers Eau Rouge and Raidillon like few can, making it seem effortless. The SF-24 feels perfectly balanced and he takes another win, smiling at the Ferrari flags waving high in the crowd as the Monegasque and Italian anthems play.
Through it all, you see Charles grow not just as a driver but as a leader and beacon of hope for the team and global fanbase. He is not just driving for himself or for Ferrari, he drives for everyone who believes in him.
***
The warm Italian sun pours golden light onto the expansive villa overlooking Lake Como. The water below sparkles, mirroring the sky. For a brief moment, the hectic world of Formula 1 feels miles away.
You’re lounging under an oversized umbrella, Aperol Spritz in hand, while Charles emerges from the pool, beads of water cascading down his toned physique.
“That swim was perfect,” Charles grins as he flops down beside you.
“You were in there for ages! Trying to turn into a fish?”
He shakes his head like a wet puppy, making you squeal as you try to escape the splashes. “Just preparing for our yacht trip. Besides, I have to burn off all those pasta dinners we’ve been having or else I won’t fit in the car by the end of the month.”
“The troubles of a professional athlete,” you laugh, “I’ve been indulging and I’m not even sorry.”
That evening, the two of you share a quiet moment on the terrace. Soft jazz floats from inside and cicadas buzz rhythmically.
“Remember our first race together?” Charles starts. “It feels like a lifetime ago.”
“I never imagined we’d be here. But I am so glad that we are.”
He meets your gaze, his eyes reflecting the same heat you feel. “Me too. These moments, away from the track with you ... they’re special.”
The following week, you find yourselves on a luxurious yacht off the coast of Sardinia. Charles’ family and both of your friends are aboard. The sun decks echo with laughter, music, and the soft lapping of waves. There is never a quiet moment and you relish in the sounds of happiness.
As you stand by the railing, watching Charles and Joris race each other on jet-skis, Arthur slides up beside you. “So, how’s life with my big brother?”
You laugh, “It’s an adventure every day. But honestly, I wouldn’t change a thing. It’s wonderful. He’s wonderful.”
Arthur nods, “I’ve never seen him this happy, you know?”
You smile warmly, your gaze drifting to where Charles has somehow fallen into the water and is now splashing his friend. “He brings out the best in me, just as I hope I do for him.”
***
The gentle lapping of the Mediterranean waves seems like a distant memory as you find yourself in Zandvoort.
“Quite the change of scenery, isn’t it?” Charles chuckles, standing beside you as the sea breeze of the Dutch coast tousles his hair.
You laugh, “A bit but I’ve missed it. Nothing beats the excitement of a race weekend.”
And what a weekend it was. Charles, against all odds, comes out on top at Max Verstappen’s home race. The Dutch crowd offer begrudging respect as Charles takes the top step.
And then, Monza.
Monza is different. There’s an electricity in the air that cannot be replicated anywhere else. It’s the home race of Ferrari … the cathedral of speed.
“Do you know,” you tell Charles as you both walk through the paddock, “I used to come here with my grandfather as a child. This track ... it’s steeped in history. I’ve always loved it.”
“Winning here was like nothing else I have ever experience,” he reflects. “Let’s do it again. We’ll write our own chapter in history this weekend.”
Qualifying is a nail-biter. Charles pushes the SF-24 to its limits, dancing on the edge of control.
“How are we looking?” Charles checks in.
“You’re on provisional pole,” Claudio responds over the radio. “But push on the last sector. Max is close and getting closer.”
And push he does. Charles clinches pole with a margin that leaves no doubts about the capabilities of both the driver and the car.
Race day, the atmosphere is fever-pitched. The Tifosi, in their sea of red, wave their flags and banners, chanting Charles’ name like a prayer. As the lights go out, the battle rages. The strategy is aggressive, a one-stop that requires Charles to defend position in the latter stages of the race.
“Lap 45. Push now, we need widen this gap,” Claudio instructs.
The tires scream in protest as Charles further carves out a lead. But as the laps tick down, Verstappen and Piastri close in.
“Drive smart and hold them off. Four laps to go. You’ve got this,” Claudio urges him on.
Going wheel-to-wheel with Max through the Ascari chicane, Charles pulls ahead. The Tifosi roar, their energy and sheer will pushing him on.
“Last lap. Bring it home!”
And he does.
As Charles crosses the finish line, the crowd erupts. The track is soon packed with red as fans flood the track, surrounding the podium.
From the sea of faces, one voice stands out — yours, “You did it, Charles. Monza is yours.”
He lifts the trophy high, a tear in his eye, “We did it. This is for Ferrari … for the Tifosi … for us.”
***
The streets of Baku and the lights of Singapore both witness the magic that Charles and the SF-24 weave together. Two more wins, two more steps closer to the championship.
And then you find yourselves in Texas.
“Do you remember this time last year?” Charles asks.
“How could I forget? It was the phone call that changed everything.”
Charles laughs but there’s a weight to it, “For both of us. It was a disaster ... pole to sixth and then the disqualification. All because of...” He doesn’t finish the sentence, the mismanagement of the team a heavy shadow neither of you can forget.
“You’ve grown since then,” you point out gently, “The team has grown. Look at where we are now.”
He nods, taking a deep breath, “One year. So much has changed. From one of the worst days in my racing career to ... this.” Charles gestures around, to the revamped team, the transformed car, the very atmosphere of competence that permeates every corner of the Ferrari garage.
“I can’t believe we’re here,” he whispers, “The championship is within our grasp. Right back where it all went wrong.”
You take a moment to pull out your laptop and open a data sheet, “Here’s the breakdown. If Max gets P2 in both the sprint and the race, you need P1 in both. That’s how we seal the championship this weekend.”
Charles’ eyes scan the spreadsheet, “That’s ... a tall order.”
“But not impossible. Not for you and not for this team,” you assure him.
He chuckles again but it’s brighter now, “With you in my corner? I know anything is possible.”
***
The energy is electric when qualifying day arrives in Austin. You find Charles in his driver’s room, eyes closed in focus as he visualizes the track.
“You ready for this?”
His eyes pop open, determination burning in them. “Ready. Let’s show them what we can do.”
Qualifying unfolds in a blur of fast laps and bated breath. Charles pushes the limits, wrestling the SF-24 around the bumpy circuit.
“Time for one more lap. Give it your all here,” Claudio radioes through.
Jaw set, Charles squeezes all he can from the SF-24. Silence falls as he crosses the line … broken by cheers as his new lap time is set.
Pole position for the second season in a row.
Charles sheds his helmet and rips off his balaclava. “Yes! That’s how we start a weekend!”
The sprint shootout and race similarly see Charles launch cleanly from P1, building a gap early.
“Verstappen is matching your pace, don’t let him get within DRS range,” Claudio advises.
“Copy,” Charles responds, focused.
A late charge from Max raises tensions but Charles keeps him at bay, taking the chequered flag and the eight points.
“That’s the way to do it!” You shout as Charles enters the garage.
“Grand Slam in the sprint, now time for the main event,” he grins.
You rally the team Sunday morning. “Remember, the start is crucial. The car that lines up in P2 has led by the end of lap 1 for five years in a row. We need full focus.”
It seems like barely any time has passed before Charles takes his spot on the grid. Lights out, tires screeching, he holds the lead through the first lap madness.
“Nicely done,” Claudio praises. “Manage those tires now.”
The pit stop strategy is executed flawlessly. Charles takes his second stop, emerging ahead of a charging Verstappen.
“Ten laps remaining,” Claudio counts down.
Charles responds with measured confidence, “Let’s bring it home.”
In the closing laps, he is poetry in motion, hitting each apex and maximizing every straight. Max closes in but Charles is perfect to the millimeter.
“Charles Leclerc,” Claudio’s voice cracks with emotion, “you are the World Champion!”
Eyes wet, Charles radios in, “Yes! Yes! Yes! We did it! Thank you guys! This is unbelievable! Grazie, grazie mille, grazie a tutti! It’s been an incredible season with all of you. This is for the team, for Ferrari, for all the fans, and for everyone who has supported me. We brought it back to Maranello! I’m speechless ... grazie, thank you!”
In the garage, celebrations in full swing, you lean in with a laugh, “Don’t worry, I checked with the FIA — the plank is up to regulation this time.”
Grinning, Charles pulls you into a passionate kiss as the team hoots and hollers around you.
The World Champion smiles so bright he makes the Texan sun look dull in comparison.
You would do anything to make sure he feels like this every season. You will do anything to make sure he feels like this every season.
***
The winter sun casts a warm glow on Maranello as you walk beside Charles into the Ferrari factory. The off-season buzz of activity fills the air as the team prepares for next year’s challenges.
Charles looks at the sleek lines of the new SF-25 with anticipation. “She’s beautiful. I can’t wait to see what she can do.”
“This one’s special. She’ll be fighting for the championship again.”
“Yeah?”
“You heard me right,” you say with a smile. “I made you a promise. Last season was just the beginning.”
As Charles turns for a briefing, you spot Fred across the room. Your relationship has evolved and he now respects the authority you wield for the team’s benefit.
Approaching, you extend a hand. “I wanted to say, you’ve led the team well this past season.”
He grasps it firmly. “We share this success. Thank you for being the catalyst we needed”
You know there will still be challenges ahead. But Ferrari has been reinvigorated. Its racing spirit has been reignited.
That evening, Charles joins you on the terrace of the home you both share when in Maranello and wraps you both in a warm blanket to fight the chill. “Can you believe what a year it’s been?”
You shake your head. “It’s been a dream.”
He pulls you close. “The dream is just beginning and it’s a dream I hope we never wake up from.”
3K notes · View notes
ponderingmoonlight · 7 months
Text
How JJK men act in and after a fight
Pairing: Gojo x reader, Megumi x reader, Nanami x reader
Word Count: 4,1k (a big baby)
Warnings: obviously hurt in every part but also a loooot of fluff, Megumi being as inexperienced as he is lol, Nanami's part is pure fan service, you're very welcome
Notes: I consider writing part ll of that with Choso, Geto and maybe Toji. If you're down for that, just leave me a comment or a like <3 as always thank y'all from the bottom of my heart for the love and support you give me, I truly don't deserve it <3
Part ll with Geto, Choso and Yuji can be found here
Tags: @ifuckfictionalmen @sanicsmut
Gojo Satoru
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“So you think I’m being ridiculous? I saw the way she looked at you and how her hand brushed against yours way too often”, you hiss, whole body trembling in pure rage.
“Oh, so every woman that touches me is apparently into me, now I get it”, he sarcastically remarks.
You bite your tongue, desperately trying to stop yourself from crying. Why is he not able to understand that you don’t feel comfortable with that situation at all? You told him over and over, especially when she completely ignored your presence on your first meeting. How does he not see all of this?
“You…You transferred money to her. A lot, actually. And all of that after she completely ignored me when you introduced me”
“Just like I do for you-“
“I’m your wife, moron!”, you scream on top of your lungs.
Satoru’s face is twisted in annoyance. He thought he’d come home to your loving arms, cuddling on the couch after a stressful day. But this? You stormed into him the second he opened the door, holding up bank statements. Over the past weeks, this happened way too often, interrupting your otherwise very peaceful marriage in a way Satoru can’t take any longer.
“So what? We’re colleagues, (y/n). You are my wife, why don’t you get that I am forced to work with other women from time to time?”, he questions.
The way he rolls his blue orbs at you sends you over the edge completely.
“So colleagues transfer money, hold deep eye contact and touch each other oh so casually when having a conversation? Don’t fuck with me, Satoru. I told you over and over that it bugs me, that I’m concerned. And you do absolutely nothing about it.”
“Maybe if you’d stop acting like a bitch!”, he cries out in frustration.
Your heart sinks immediately when is words hit you with full force. Even though your relationship with Satoru does get pretty heated from time to time, he never called you names. Never.
Not until now, when it comes to that woman.
You need to get off his sight, away from his stinging presence. Without saying another word, you storm into your shared bedroom and lock the door behind you before he’s able to follow you.
“Maybe if you’d stop acting like a bitch!”
His stinging words repeat themselves over and over in your head while you can’t hold back your tears any longer. This is so unfair. Why is he too blind to see the way she hunts after him, that she wants him to be more than a simple colleague? All you want him is to understand how uncomfortable this situation is for you, that you feel somehow betrayed.
“Open the door, (y/n)”, his clear voice is heard from behind the door.
Satoru knew he overdid it the second he saw the devastated look on your face. No matter how ridiculous this whole topic is, you don’t deserve his anger towards you. Mei isn’t more than a colleague for him though, a woman he has worked with on missions for years. She surely doesn’t like him like that, it’s simply impossible-
His phone vibrates in his pants, making him take a look at the screen.
What do you think about dinner tonight? Just the two of us.
He signs at her message, realization hitting him like a wall. Fuck, what did he do? The countless times her touch brushed over him, the messages she sent him not work related at all every night and how she always avoided the conversation when it came to you flood his mind uncontrollably. How could he make you feel this way? You told him over and over that you feel uncomfortable with this situation, asked him for compromises. And now…
Now he made you feel unwanted, delusional and dumb. You are his wife, the love of his life, the one thing that keeps him going in this world full of madness.
“Can you let me in, (y/n)? I’m sorry…”, he hushes against the closed door.
You can’t catch your breath, dry sobs hunt your body down when a new wave of sorrow washes over you. Does he even love you? All this time you thought you were the love of his life, his pride. But now…It feels like he chose that woman over you, that he cares about her opinion and feelings more than yours.
“I’m coming in”, he softly announces.
Of course, a simple closed door can’t keep him out if he doesn’t want to.
The second he lays his eyes on your crumpled on the floor figure, his heart completely breaks. Instantly, he kneels down in front of you and embraces you in his arms while your sobs make him hate himself even more.
“I’m so unbelievable sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean it like that at all. It’s just that in my world, there’s only you and no one else. I never understood how you even get the idea of me liking another woman because this scenario is ridiculous to me. I shouldn’t have lashed out on you like that. I’m so so sorry…”, he mumbles against your ear.
Despite his words still haunt your mind, you can’t help but let yourself fall at least a little into his inviting arms, tears staining his uniform.
“I will talk to her and make clear that you are the one and only for me, I promise.”
It’s impossible to stay mad at him for long. You wrap your longing arms around him, forehead pressed against his.
“So you understand my point?”, you mutter.
“I do and I’m sorry for making you feel this way. You are the only woman in my life and I love you more than anything else”, he reassures you once again.
You definitely won’t get him away this easily. After all, words mean nothing without action. But this is a step in the right direction and for now, you can definitely live with that.
“Now, please stop crying, I’ll call her right away and we’ll watch your favorite show and order some food after, what do you think?”
“Only if you pay”, you sniff.
Megumi Fushiguro
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“Oh, where are you going?”, you question when your boyfriend Megumi gets up from the bed so early in the morning that it’s still dark outside.
The last few weeks were like a trip to hell and back, it seems like your relationship consists of Megumi going on missions while you have to stay behind. Before this night, you haven’t seen him for one whole week and while you do understand his responsibly as a jujutsu sorcerer, you can’t help but feel hurt.
“On a mission of course”, he remarks dryly.
Your eyes begin to burn as your heart sinks. It’s like you don’t know him anymore, as if he’s only the shell of the man you used to love. Is he so sick of you that he doesn’t want to spend a single day on your side? Is all of this on purpose? You can’t hold back any longer.
“You’re always leaving me”, you blurt out.
It shouldn’t bother you. After all, you’re a jujutsu sorcerer yourself. Despite being Shoko’s trainee you should be aware of the fact that this job is a mess and means you have to dedicate your whole life to it.
But still you can’t help but fell hurt. Hurt because your boyfriend doesn’t even smile anymore when he returns, hurt because he comes and goes without saying a word, hurt because you feel like you lost him.
“What was that?”, he grumbles.
“Do you think I do this on purpose?”
“I just feel like you’re never here. And I miss you.”
“Not all of us have an easy job like you, (y/n).”
You swallow hard. Wow, that is new. And extremely painful. Even though you aren’t out there fighting, you still have a lot to do, working your ass off so everyone survives, day and night ready if something happens. This is just not fair.
“You think my job is easy? Stitch yourself up next time, then”, you hiss and cross your arms over your chest.
“Don’t come at me. You started this whole thing!”
“Yeah, I ‘started this whole thing’ because you are my boyfriend and I love you, and I…I fucking miss you! But fine, if you don’t feel the same I’ll just leave.”
It’s ridiculous and you know it, mind screaming violently, begging you to stay. But your heart can’t. This was simply too much. You can’t stay here with a boy that treats you like this.
“If you leave now-“
“Then what?”, you interrupt him immediately, cold eyes glaring at him while your hand rests on the door.
“You’ll leave? You leave every time, Megumi. See you around…Or not.”
And with that, you leave him standing in his room alone, staring at the door like an idiot. What the hell has gotten into you? Since when are you acting up like that? He doesn’t know you like that. But still, your words do make him wonder if you’re somehow right…
He shakes his head violently. No, you’re being ridiculous. Maybe you need to sleep in and you’ll figure this out as soon as he returns.
But one things for sure: Megumi definitely won’t make the first move.
And so days pass until finally weeks begin to pass without both of you saying a single word to each other. Every time you see him you feel like dying inside, heart screaming at you in agony to stop your stubbornness, to approach him and say sorry. But you can’t. You simply can’t over the fact that he let you go like that, not even looking your direction when you cross each other. It’s like he doesn’t know you anymore despite all the nights you shared with each other, despite the intimate moments you’ve had.
No, it seems like he doesn’t care at all.
“Hey (y/n)!”, Nobara greets you.
“Hey, I’m in a bit of a rush”, you explain briefly, already on your way to assist Shoko in an autopsy of a curse.
“It’s just…(y/n), are you and Megumi okay?”, Nobara mutters, her face twisted in concern like you’ve never seen before.
You stop in your tracks, a new wave of grief washing over you. No, nothing is okay, absolutely nothing to be exact. You want to scream it into her face, break down crying, let all your feelings out. But instead, you just gift her an empty smile and say:
“Sure.”
‘Sure’ as if he never raised his voice at you, ‘sure’ as if Megumi would care about you feeling lonely and missing him, ‘sure’ as if you actually meant something to him
“I mean it’s none of my business but…You guys haven’t talk for what feels like an eternity, you are no longer there and I’m just worried that he messed things up with you, y’know…Well, let me know if I can help you with something, okay?”
She gently places her hand on your shoulder while you have to force yourself to not shed a tear. Oh, if she only knew. If she only knew that the last weeks were absolute hell, that you feel like dying inside. But this is something you and Megumi have to deal with alone. Even Nobara can’t help you with that.
You say goodbye to her and walk towards the laboratory, tears still stinging threatening in your eyes. How much you long for talking to him, to tell him how much his words really hurt you. But you can’t bring yourself to make the first step. After all, you tried to talk this out multiple times only for him to not even listen. No, this time he’ll have to make the first move if he wants you back.
If…
“(y/n).”
That voice. That oh so familiar voice that makes your heart skip a beat.
“Megumi”, you breathe out, slowly turning around to face him.
There he stands, scratching his head while looking at your feet, eyes not meeting your gaze.
“How…how you’ve been?”
Even a blind man would see the blush creeping up his face…Is he embarrassed? Painfully awkward silence hangs between you two as all you can do is stare at him, your blood slowly but surely boiling up. Is he really asking you how you’ve been after not talking to you for weeks, ignoring you every time he saw you?
“You have some fucking nerves”, you spit at him, closing the gap between you two with a rushed movement.
“You’re not talking with me for weeks and now you’re asking how I’ve been? I’ve been miserable, Megumi. I felt like dying every time you ignored me!”
Fuck, don’t cry. Don’t let him see how you really feel. Your trembling hands frantically wipe away the threatening tears, eyes darted towards him.
“I just couldn’t, (y/n). It’s just…I…”, he stumbles over his very own words, fingers over and over running through his hair.
“I was able to see it until I thought about it. I’ve been a horrible boyfriend, (y/n). So horrible that I thought you’d be better off without me. But I’m simply too selfish to let you go. I’m sorry for not making time for you, I’m sorry for treating you like shit, I’m sorry for making you feel like I didn’t love you when in reality, all I was able to think about was you and how much I missed you sleeping besides me”, he suddenly blurts out, leaving you completely speechless.
This is everything. Everything you longed for, ever single word you graved so deeply. Did this thick silence really change the way he sees your relationship now? A look into his sorrow – filled eyes is enough to realize that he’s telling the truth, making your heart jump up and down.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“Because I know I’m not the boy you deserve and I’d fully understand if you’re having enough of me. I just wanted to let you know that I can see it now and that I want to give you what you deserve if you let me.”
The glistening in his eyes literally begs you for a second chance while your very own heart screams at you. Of course you want him back, Megumi is everything you ever wanted. But he’ll have to show that it’s really different this time.
“Promise me something”, you announce.
He tilts his head to his side, brows furrowed in confusion.
“What?”
“Promise me you’ll stay with me today, that we’ll spend time together. No mission, no obligations.”
“I’ll stay as long as you need, as long as you want me around, (y/n). This time without you hurt like hell, I simply don’t want to let you go again”, he hushes, his tender fingertips brushing over your arms.
“That sounds good…”, you mutter, resting your head against his chest.
God, how much you missed that feeling. Even though your relationship had its ups and downs, you always admired the way Megumi was able to calm you down in an instant with a simple touch of his hand.
Maybe you will figure it out now. And maybe him not having time for you stays in the past forever.
Kento Nanami
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“Fuck”, you hiss through gritted teeth.
You’re on your way home after a pretty ugly mission. And even though Shoko already stitched you up, you feel like dying. Everything just hurts, it’s hard to even walk.
The thought of your husband at home makes your guts turn. Not because you don’t love him or aren’t longing to see him, but because of your recent conversation.
“It can’t go on like this, (y/n). You’re always injured and it’s starting to concern me. Maybe I have to talk t-“
“No”, you interrupted him immediately.
“Please don’t. I’ll be careful from now on. I promise.”
“Fine. But if this happens again, I’ll have a talk with the elders.”
And it happened again. All these missions one after another really took their toll on your concentration. One moment of unwariness was enough to sweep you off your feet, thigh sliced open in the nastiest way you’ve ever seen. Shoko told you it will take some time to heal entirely, but if Kento gets to see this…
“Maybe I should call Nanami to pick you up. You really can’t walk like that (y/n).”
“No, please don’t!”, you begged Shoko for dear life.
“I don’t want this to cause trouble. It’s fine, really!”
“You almost died, (y/n)”, she remembered you dryly.
“And I will definitely die if you tell him. Please Shoko.”
She signed.
“Fine. Just be careful and visit me tomorrow…”
You swallow. A fight seems inevitable if you won’t hide your wound from him.
You take a deep breath, keys trembling in your sweaty palms. Fuck, why does this have to ache so badly? Shoko gave so some pain killers, you shouldn’t feel a single thing.
No, focus. Pain is only in your head. But Kento is very real.
With one last stolen glance at your injured leg you open the door, forcing a smile on your face. Where is he? Your heart beats out of your chest, hands so sweaty that you have to wipe them on your coat.
“Kento?”, you shout into the quiet living room, closing the door behind you gently.
“There you are, sweetheart”, his voice coos out of the bedroom.
Your breath hitches, eyes wide open at the sight in front of you. There he stands, your loving husband. Dressed in nothing but his pants, bare chest immediately captivating you. Oh god, he looks so delicious that you feel like fainting, hungry eyes roaming over his tight muscles as if you haven’t seen him like that hundreds of times before.
“Where have you been? A mission like that shouldn’t take this long.”
He begins to approach you elegantly, staring at you with a small smile on his delicate lips.
“Y-yeah…Still had something to…y’know…say…to Shoko”, you stutter.
Why does he have to look so absolutely delicious? And why does your leg suddenly feel so…wet?
“Are you alright? You seem a little unfocused today. Did you get hurt?”
His eyes scan over your body without any mercy, forcing you to hide your leg behind the other.
“Don’t worry, I’m fine”, you press out.
No, you’re anything but fine. The way your other leg brushes against your injured one makes you see stars. You feel like fainting and throwing up at the same time, sweat running down your forehead uncontrollably. You need medication – now.
“I planned something very excited for us today. Something you might like”, he purrs, closing the distance between your bodies.
His hand grabs your waist passionately while your mixed emotions take your breath away. God, how much you love the way his arms wrap themselves around you, knowing exactly that this leads you directly into the bedroom.
But that means…
“Oh yeah?”, you chuckle nervously.
That means he’ll see the wound you’re so desperately trying to hide.
“Absolutely”, he breathes against your ear.
Oh god, this is so good…No, it’s not good at all. You need to get away from him, out of this misery, into t-
A toe-curling scream escapes your lips before you even realize what is happening, body stumbling backwards.
“(y/n)!”, Nanami mutters, eyes wide open.
He squeezed your leg like he always does and just the way you like it. Why on earth are you acting like that? That haunted look on your face almost makes it seem as if he hurt you.
Lost in thoughts, he looks down at his hand.
His blood-smeared hand.
It slowly dawns to him. No, it isn’t because he did something you don’t like. It’s because you’re injured again. And you decided to lie into his face about it.
“What is this?”
Your husband’s voice sounds as unpromising as you imagined it in this situation, eyes widen in horror while you’re still panting in agony.
Fuck. Your heart drops immediately by the sight of his blood smeared hand. Kento is an outstanding smart man, too clever to be considered an idiot by your actions.
“You promised me to stay safe. And that you lie to be about being injured...”
“(y/n), look at me”, he insists, grabbing your chin.
His eyes seem to stare right through your soul as he glances down at you, jaw tightened.
“I can’t believe you lied to me.”
“Only because you’d freak out”, you reply in your own defense.
“Like I should! I told you over and over to look out for yourself, to skip a few missions before you get seriously hurt. And what is that, huh?”
He points at your wounded leg, blood now soaking through the fabric of your skirt.
“You are severely injured. Just like I predicted.”
You feel like a child being scolded by her parents. Even though Kento never raises his voice at you aggressively, you can tell by the way his whole body tenses up and that glistening in his gaze that he’s absolutely furious.
“I am able to look after myself. I know what’s best for me”, you remark annoyed.
Fuck, you’re so damn tired. All you want is to bandage yourself up and go to sleep.
“Yes, I can see that.”
Something about his sarcastic tone and the way he stares down at you while shaking his head makes you snap.
“I’m a grown woman, I don’t need you to look after me like a damn child! Mind your own business, Kento!”
“You are my business. You are my wife. It’s my responsibility to take care of you!”, he barks back.
“But I don’t want you to take care of me, I want you to leave me alone!”, you spit into his face, making him drop his shoulders immediately.
God, you want to take that back straightaway, knowing damn well how your comment hurt his feelings. But at the moment, all you can think about is a warm bed and finally some rest.
You drag yourself into the bedroom and let your trembling body fall onto the mattress. This is not fair, right? After all, you aren’t a child anymore, you are able to look after yourself…right?
You close your eyes, the disappointed look on Kento’s face lingering through your mind. It wasn’t fair to snap at him, though. He is your husband, always caring about you. No, he certainly doesn’t deserve you to treat him like this.
Three soft knocks on the door.
“Can I come in?”, his damped voice questions.
“Sure”, you mumble.
You can’t even look at him when he enters the room in silence, elegant steps leading him to the bed where he sits down next to you. Suddenly, he begins to rip open a package of bandages, catching your attention.
“What are you doing?”
“I take care of you. May I?”
His gaze wanders to your skirt, eyes asking you for permission to pull it up.
“Sure…”, you mutter, a slight blush creeping up your face when his fingers brush over your panties.
“How did this happen?”, he asks softly while his skilled fingers remove the blood soaked bandage.
“I don’t know exactly. Wasn’t paying full attention and got hit by a curse.”
“I see.”
Despite all the things you said to him, despite the way you hurt him a few minutes ago, your man kneels in front of you and caresses your wound with so much affection that it doesn’t hurt at all. Your eyes wander over him, how his gaze is focused exclusively on your thigh, skilled fingers working wonders.
“I’m sorry for lashing out and not telling you”, you let out, not able to hold in your bad conscience any longer.
“I understand that I put you in an uncomfortable position when I threatened to talk to the elders about this and I’m very sorry for that. But it can’t go on like this, (y/n). This is the 5th serious injury within three weeks and I’m truly worried about you. I don’t want you to end like-“
He stops himself from finishing that sentence but oh you know exactly what he means and it shatters your heart. Without hesitation, your fingers grab his face gently, eyes locking with yours.
“I love you, Kento. And I see that you’re right. I’ll talk to the elders tomorrow myself about that”, you assure him.
A small but precious smile appears on his face, free hand caressing your cheek with so much affection that you have to hold back a tear.
“You’re my everything, sweetheart. Let’s stitch you up and go to bed.”
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zwhoreo · 9 months
Note
Can i get some Luffy smut? If you don’t do smut i’d love some fluff!! ☠️💖
so hyped to write smut again let’s go <3
caught in the act - luffy x f!reader
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SMUT!!
summary: while he’s missing you at night, luffy gets the urge to touch himself while his crewmates are sleeping, and this works out well… until you walk in
contains: handjob, established relationship, innocent but very horny luffy, light exhibitionism
words: 1.6k
________________________
They’re all deep sleepers, right? The crew around Luffy is unmoving, rhythmic breathing making blankets rise and fall against their chests. It’s dark out, he watches the moonlight rise and fall against the wooden floor and swaying bunks as the ship rocks slowly in waves. He’s been up for a couple hours, wriggling uncomfortably in his bed, he’s restless and he can’t sleep and he’s trying to figure out why. It’s one of those nights where he wants to go bother you, he’s missing the feeling of wrapping your body in his and falling asleep in your arms. But you’ve been put on watch tonight and told Luffy to go sleep somewhere warm, you’d be fine out on your own.
So he’s with the guys in the men’s quarters and he’s missing you greatly. He’s stressed, he doesn’t like being alone like this at night anymore, if he can help it.
How can he relax? How can he think of you but calm his mind but go to sleep? But then he remembers something you once told him, about how it’s sometimes soothing, and will help you with bad sleep, if you touch yourself between the legs for a while. He’s done it once or twice, out of pure curiosity, but usually that’s your job and it doesn’t feel that good unless it’s your hands and he’s getting kissed and held at the same time. But maybe tonight he could give it another go.
He’s still wearing jean shorts, the fabric tough and difficult to really feel himself through. Maybe he should take them off, but he doesn’t really want to do that here, he understands the implicit shame of getting yourself off around others, and getting caught.
So he palms himself, rubbing gentle circles over the zipper, building up a pleasant friction and now his cock is aching and twitching in his pants. He grits his teeth and wants to stop, this is getting embarrassing, but it’s feeling so good that his hand is almost moving on its own. He squeezes his eyes shut and feels his breathing get heavier as he presses harder, blood pumping in time with his heartbeat down beneath his legs, he feels himself filled there, swelling…
“Mmmgh…” he moans in a raspy, distant sort of way, unconscious now of his hands or his voice or his bed or his mind, it’s all his cock, burning up against him, desperate to be cared for.
Luffy yanks off his shorts in a fluid motion, feeling his dick slap his stomach, hard and needy. His hands find himself and he tries to imitate what you might do, how you stroke deeply yet carefully, how your thumb etches patterns into the skin, he’s sloppy and clumsy about it because he doesn’t know what he’s doing and now he gets more and more frustrated, heart racing.
So soft slaps fill the silent room as he jerks off furiously, squeezing his cock and rubbing in whatever way he can and just praying that something will be right, if he just tries over and over. Little throaty moans and gasps echo through the men’s quarters and thank god they’re drowned by the others’ snoring, and the creaking of the ship on the waves. He arches his back and squirms and he wants to cum so bad now, it’s hurting him. But he can’t, he just rubs and rubs, faster and more frantically.
You’re trying to find your jacket, meanwhile.
You thought the night would be warm like the day but the stars brought ice. You’re in your favorite blue velvet night dress but it only barely covers your chest, your arms and shoulders are exposed. You wander to your room to check the dresser but your jacket isn’t there. So you wrack your mind, where did you leave it?
Oh yeah, when you were helping Franky fix a leak in the ceiling. The ceiling of the men’s quarters. You had set it down on the table, right? Yes, it must still be there.
So you find the door and open it as softly as you can, creeping your way in through the crack of moonlight, and as you stand in the doorway you look up for a moment, and you meet Luffy’s eyes.
Deer eyes, frozen still, pants off and throbbing cock clutched in his hand. His legs are spread, he’s propped up on an elbow and he’s staring at you, motionless.
You’re in total shock, unsure of what to do. You stare into his eyes as your cheeks burn red and your first instinct is to turn and leave without saying anything. But behind the humiliation in Luffy’s eyes you see a burning need. He wants you really, really bad.
His chest rises and falls fast, like a nervous animal, he blinks a few times at you. He’s sick with anxiety about getting caught in the act, even if you’re his girlfriend, he feels gross and dirty all of a sudden.
But wordlessly you smile at him. You focus your eyes between his legs and his cock is leaking and begging for attention so you slowly, carefully walk across the floor. He’s on the top bunk, Zoro fast asleep beneath him. Luffy tilts his head to follow your every footstep, flushed and embarrassed still, but so excited all of a sudden. You gingerly climb the ladder, the set of bunks rocking a little which makes you freeze, but Zoro isn’t going to wake up, it’s fine.
Luffy scoots over a bit to make room for you, still twitching with nerves, still rubbing his dick a little. His lips are parted, shining with saliva.
Your hands slowly reach for his face, he’s still frozen but as your fingers stroke his cheeks he begins to smile, his eyes still begging, and at the smallest contact he groans and you shut him up with a kiss, pressing your lips to his quickly, eliciting a little squeak from Luffy, and a shiver that travels down through his stomach. Your legs are smooth against his as you slide closer, gathering him gently into your arms.
“[Name…]” he murmurs at last, drool coating his chin, eyes glossy.
And you say, “hi, Luffy,” under your breath. Reaching to hold his hand.
“Hi,” he says too loudly and you kiss him again and whisper a shhh into his mouth. Then you test the waters, you rest your hand over his knuckles where he grips himself, and Luffy practically spills his body over into yours with the promise of touch.
He bites your shoulder as he leans against you, heavy, sweaty, shivering like a little dog. His tongue rests against your skin and he makes some happy little noises, muffled by your body, you lift him to a better position and trace the curves of his knuckles.
So he lets go and lets your soft hands replace him. And there, this feels better. Luffy can relax and let his mind wander and your hands are so much more caring than his. Long, powerful, slow strokes. His skin vibrates and his cock is smelting iron under your touch, a kiln of white-hot sweat blooming beneath your fingers. He buries his face in your neck and looks up at you with huge, loving eyes, raw feeling overtaking his whole self. He reaches for your breasts and squeezes them to occupy his now free hands, he grounds himself in your soft flesh.
It’s a strange feeling, giving Luffy a handjob, because his skin stretches when you pull and you have to be more careful, but also more deep, squeezing with pressure and force so he can feel your movements and playing with him becomes like kneading dough.
He says something unintelligible and shoves his face up against yours as you continue to slowly stroke him off, you keep having to gently quiet him, he’s starting to forget where he is or at least not care anymore, those movements feel so good, this angelic massage.
He’s butter in your arms now, melting against you, he begins to nibble at your ear and writhe under you, his body unsure of what to do with itself now that he’s about to cum.
You’re not sure either and it’s too late now, you have to turn your attention to clutching his face and shoving your tongue into his mouth in a heated, long kiss so his yelling moan is lost in your throat. His cock spasms and he cums all over your night dress.
“Oh…” you whisper, flushed, looking down at the ribbons of white coating the blue velvet like sea foam. This is what waves are made of. Luffy is staring down at you too, curious, but he doesn’t seem to care about the mess he’s made and just wants to hold you now.
“Don’t go. I’m gonna hold ya. I don’t want you to go yet.” His gravelly voice is loud again in your ear and you pause to look around the dark room, the men still fast asleep, the shadows still moving back and forth slowly on the walls.
You don’t even wipe off your dress. You just grab Luffy in a tight embrace, pulling the covers over the both of you and settling into his bunk, snuggling into him.
“Fuck it,” you whisper happily into his neck, “I don’t wanna keep watch tonight.”
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princessbrunette · 2 months
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john b was big. you knew it, he definitely knew it.
that never stopped you from trying to please him though. you were an inexperienced thing when the two of you first met, john b still thinking back on the first time you’d asked to go down on him. it was an affair of shy licks, doe eyes, the constant question of “am i doing it right?” followed by the demure command of “please show me how.” the whole idea was ditched pretty quickly, the lover boy hating the idea of putting any kind of uncomfortable strain on you.
you knew your way around the sack a little better now, could take his dick inside you like a champ even though the stretch was still prevalent and it left you bulging each and every time. however, sucking him off still often proved more difficult — your throat apparently just not cut out for it. you were frustrated, because john b was so good at eating pussy, it didn’t seem fair to not return the treatment to the same level of ability.
he can sense this frustration as your brow creases into a frown, dribbling furiously down his aching red tip until your mouth was drawing blanks, trying to lubricate him enough to help the process. he’s smiling softly at you like you were picking flowers or something totally innocent, a distant loved up look in his eye as he cups your face, coarse thumb stroking repeatedly across your cheek and temple to soothe you.
you try him again, taking him into your mouth and beginning to jerk off what you couldn’t reach. you bob your head and he hums, low and raspy in his chest. “good job, pup.” he praises, and something about it makes you stir. your boyfriend genuinely meant it — you were doing a good job, seeing you work to please him made him feel amazing as did your slick mouth and skilled hands… but you wanted to do better than that.
taking a deep breath through your nostrils, you clench one wet fist in your lap as you force yourself down on his length as far as you can handle. “e—easy… baby.” his brows jump higher as he sits up just a little, hands hovering over your head as you hold yourself down. you gag, hard and come back up — sucking in a loud shaky breath. “hey, okay, just go easy sweetheart. remember?” he comforts and you push his hands away, going back down and forcing him into your throat before you’d even fully recovered.
he winces, because yeah — the way your throat tightens around him with each wet gag does feel good. although, he was far too focused on your wellbeing to fully immerse himself. he says your name once, almost in warning before you feel bile rising and you pull off him quickly, aggressively coughing and spluttering. your throat, nostrils and eyes burn and you burst into tears — mad at yourself. he drops everything to scoot forward quickly, going to comfort you. your instinct is to shove away his hands in a slight panic.
“—no—” you gag.
“heyheyheyhey — nonono, sweetheart. breathe with me, yeah? in… and out… just like that puppy c’mon, show me those breathing techniques. remember the ones we did when you got upset? in… good girl…” he finishes silently with an exhale for you to copy and you try, but you’re still sniffling and choking.
“i’m terrible. i’m terrible at this.” you mewl and he shakes his head, cradling you where you kneel.
“who told you that, hm? my sweet girl just pushed herself too hard. thaaaats okay. we live and we learn, don’t we?” he hums in that low timbre that comforts you and you feel yourself calm slightly, your boyfriend swiping away at your tears, snot and saliva. “you don’t need to do all that, pup. you make me feel plenty good. it’s not worth… hurting yourself.” his forehead creases as he stressed this information to you, cupping your cheeks to get you to look at him, ensuring you understood.
you swallow, and make a screwed up face of discomfort at the ache in your throat from practically lodging him down there, possibly bruising your inside. your hand reaches up to touch your neck and his eyes follow.
“is that hurting?” he mutters in questioning and you nod, feeling a little bad for making such a fuss.
“wow, i really should have stopped you sooner. poor girl, huh.” he sighs, gently moving your hand aside to softly massage your throat with his fingers before bringing his lips to your forehead. “yeah i’m sorry the size of me is so…unmanageable… it’s uh— definitely not ideal.” he awkwardly apologises.
“s’not your fault, john b.” you whisper, hating that he blames himself.
“yeah, i know but… yeah.” he dismisses, tucking himself away to pull you up onto his lap. he knows you’ll wanna continue on with having your fun together soon, but for now he needed you to be grounded and feel safe.
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fairlyang · 4 months
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Roommate 🕷️
you get caught masturbating by your hot cocky roommate, and he helps you out
w/c: 4.3K
pairing: roommate!miguel x f!reader
tags: 18+ smut. fantasizing about him, thinking you're alone, being watched, flashbacks, he scared the living daylights out of you, secondhand embarrassment (I live for some cringe), confessions, rough, some spanish dirty talk (no Google translate but yes English translations), creampie, and passing tf out
notes: number three of my og fics from june and I don’t hate this one as much
You were a college student living in an apartment in New York with a cocky roommate because the rent would be too much for you alone. Miguel O'Hara.
You stumbled across his ad looking for a roommate who didn't have any kids, and wasn't a piece of shit who paid bills late. So you messaged him and said you were responsible with bills and didn't have any children. He messaged back within the same hour and asked when you can move in.
It was a little over a year since then and time flew fast. You almost never got to see Miguel because of school and work. You were in your junior year of college and were finally in a good working position with decent pay.
You weren't sure what kind of job Miguel has but it has to be something really frustrating because he comes home mad as shit super often. Maybe he works in construction? Not sure but he definitely has the build for it.
Now with finals week you were stressed as fuck scrambling to finish some work and any extra credit assignments to end your junior year of college well. You already had your day to day schedule set, classes between 8am-12pm and work between 2-10 occasionally 11.
Miguel's schedule on the other hand was all over the place and you never knew when you'd be seeing him, when he'd be home, and he still pays his half of the bills but what was the point if he barely stays here anyway?
You minded your business and the very rare times you end up stumbling across him you keep conversations casual not wanting to overstep or make him uncomfortable. But you still end up talking back to him playfully and he doesn't mind so that's been a good sign.
Tonight there was no sign of him, and you've been very stressed and touch starved all week long. You shut your bedroom curtains and jump onto your bed. You get comfortable and take off your pj pants but keeping your tank top on. You first start lightly rubbing your nipples, then pinching one and the other. You moan and feel them both getting hard. You squeeze your tits, closing your eyes.
You play with them imagining it's Miguel's hands on you instead of yours. "S-shit."
Your right hand trails down to your panties, you slowly rub your clit in circle subconsciously clenching your thighs from how sensitive it feels. You open your eyes and giggle. It's really been a while.
Your thoughts go back to Miguel and you've found him attractive since you stumbled upon his ad but it intensified when you moved in and he was around way more.
You were hanging in the living room reading when you hear a door slam and it startled you a bit. Then you hear a door open so you assumed Miguel just went back to his room so you kept reading.
You were sitting with your legs out on the sofa and you were facing the kitchen instead of the tv. Past the kitchen is a hallway that leads to your room, the bathroom then Miguel's at the end. You heard his footsteps moving around until you saw him walking straight into the kitchen with only a towel on his waist.
His skin was glistening, still wet. You widen your eyes and shook your head looking down at your book. But who were you kidding.... You bite your lip, looking up to look at his muscular back as he was getting something from the fridge. You look at how his shoulders move as he grabs something and your breathing becomes uneasy.
You quickly look back down at your book as he closes the fridge. We had an open bar kinda of island so you could look into the kitchen and he could look into the living room, which was what he was doing...
You felt his eyes on you so you try your best to stay calm, control your breathing and boom you're fine. Until he turns back around to get a snack from the cupboard reaching for the whatever was on the top shelf- he was already very tall so you knew he was doing for your viewing pleasure making you flush.
You roll your eyes but might as well- his biceps were huge, his shoulder blades were insane and your eyes began to feel very lustful. He puts down whatever he got and all of a sudden has to yawn and crack his back flexing everything for you to see. You felt like you were in a trance and couldn't look away until you heard him chuckle.
He starts turning around and you look down as soon as you saw him move and bite your lip. Shit shit shit. "Y'know you could take a picture if you'd like muñeca, they last longer." He says with a smirk on his face. (doll)
"I think I'll pass thanks." You say looking him in his eyes as you're scrunching your nose in fake disgust while he just smirks at you and walks away.
Your fingers were rubbing a little faster now slightly feeling your wetness over your panties. Damn.
You stop and lean over to your bedside table and grab your dildo. Might as well.
You move your panties to the side then spit on your dildo and making sure it gets everywhere. You grab it with one hand and use the other to stroke it. God why isn't this Miguel.
You lay on your stomach and close your eyes. You kiss the tip and start to slowly take it in your mouth. You moan and go lower until you feel the tip at your uvula. You pull away and moan using all your spit to stroke it again.
You move it to your bottom half and line it up to your wet pussy. "O-oh shit-" your eyes widen realizing how tight you are. Has it really been that long???
You take it out and start sucking again until you get more saliva and try to fit it inside again. The tip is barely in and you whine. You slowly fuck the tip into you until your pussy gets use to it and then it feels fine so you put it in a bit deeper and now you're halfway on your 8 inch dildo.
You moan and clench your thighs. You roll your eyes back and blink them open looking at how you fuck yourself slowly. You spread your legs with one hand between them fucking your pussy slowly when you push in further and take all of it. You whimper and shake a little. You grab a body pillow and place it on top of you, your empty hand grabbing onto it hard. You close your eyes and start to think of it being Miguel's dick inside you, teasing you not wanting to pound into you yet.
You decided to do some yoga in the living room while watching a video on the tv. You were in a sports bra and tight fitting shorts accentuating your curves, thighs, and ass. You didn't even hear him come in when you were doing the downward dog then switched to the doggy position unknowing you were being watched.
You did a straddle split and leaning forward for a solid minute when you heard a low whistle startling you. Your heart jumped out of your chest as you sit up and look behind you. "Were you... watching me?" You ask your eyebrows furrowed, confused as shit.
"Thought I could take some notes..." He says with a confident manner and gives you a wink making you roll your eyes.
"Acting as if you could do that O'Hara, no seas baboso." You chuckle and smirk. (Don't be stupid)
He has a smug grin on his face and you think of something. You go get into the extended doggy position earning a gulp and a quiet "chingada madre" from Miguel. (Mother fucker)
You try not to make any noises besides your steady breathing. You hold it for a good fifteen seconds before saying, "Take a picture it'll last longer."
"I just might..." he says sounding like he's out of breath making you smirk.
You fuck yourself faster and harder feeling your pussy starting to cream against your dildo. Your grip on the pillow was harder and needy, as if you were grabbing against Miguel's back. "F-fuck- mmmm god j-just like that" you moan out clenching against your dildo making you shake.
You stop for a second to control your breathing. You go back to it but at a slower pace, lovingly, and passionately. You fight back the urge to moan his name but couldn't resist. "Así Miguel- n-no pares—" you moan and feel yourself squirming into the mattress. (Just like that Miguel- d-don't stop—")
You move your hand a little faster and trying to hit deeper but you're feeling tired already. You whine as you hear the creaminess with every trust. My cream would look so good on his thick cock. "Miguel te necesito- fuckk- I need you- oh I need you so ba- bad-" you moan out shaking. (I need you)
You feel that familiar feeling in your stomach and you start to fuck yourself deeper and faster whining and moaning so much more. "Fuck- so g-good."
Your juices make even more noise and you start sweating so you move your pillow to the side never opening your eyes, for more immersion. Your left hand rubs your clit while your right is still going in and out of you. You suddenly feel your orgasm take over and you fuck yourself as deep as you can take it letting out the most animalistic moans and needy whines ever. "a-a- fuck- a-ay M-Miguel-! fill me s-so good p-pl- please-"
You completely stop, your whole body shaking, your mind all foggy and when you try to open your eyes they're all hazy so you just close them again. You calm your breathing and slowly take your dildo out. It plops out and sounds like it splashed out. Really sounds like you got filled.
You sigh and bring your dildo up to your lips softly kissing it. You then lick it and get a taste of your creamy pussy until you start to lick it off the whole thing. You get the taste of your pussy off your entire dildo until you find yourself sucking on it again. You take it down your throat just gagging on it until you pull it out and breathe out. All done.
You leave it on your stomach as you rub your eyes slowly a yawn coming out of your mouth. Wonder what time it is. You lean over to your bedside table putting it on a clean towel and check your phone. It's 12:58pm. Damn.
You leave your phone there, and go back to your previous position on your bed and yawn again rubbing your eyes. When you open them you scream. You sit up trying to cover yourself fast but it's too late. "M-MIGUEL??? W-WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE?!?!??!?" You yell pulling your tank top down, and grabbing your pillow to cover your bottom half.
Your cheeks have never felt this hot in your life, oh GOD WHAT DID HE HEAR-
You feel sick to your stomach- he's literally just standing in the middle of the room with his eyes closed? But WHY-
Your eyes are wide, cheeks so fucking red. Oh my god he saw everything-  you gulp and reach down to quickly fix your panties and try to calm down. "So!??!??" You yell waiting for an answer.
He takes a step closer and you can finally see him clearly in the light. He was wearing a black tee with grey sweatpants making your breath hitch when you saw his stiff bulge. Once you look back at his face his eyes open and they're red.
You jump and your heart started beating fast as fuck. "Chingada madr— W- wha- who- Miguel? What the fuck-" (mother fucke-)
He walks over to the left side of the bed making you move to the other side scared shitless. He chuckles and as fast as you can blink he's on your side of the bed grabbing your hips and leading you against the wall, grinding you onto him. You whimper and try to get out of his grasp. "Don't try it doll... no need to act like you don't want me to play with you." He says using a finger to lift your chin to meet his eyes.
His red eyes filled with so much lust it scared you. Excited you even. "W-what are you-" You ask nervously biting your lip.
He chuckles again and pushes you against the wall. You gasp as his hands start to roam your body. You bite your lip as his hands caress your hips, smacks your ass, and then pulls on your hair from behind. Your head was pulled back as well and he leans in to kiss your neck. You moan and wrap your arms behind his neck twisting and pulling on pieces of hair. He groans against your skin and bites on it. You whimper and he leaves a wet kiss on it.
He pulls away but leans close to your face, "Wanna tell me what you were doing?" He leans in about to touch your quivering lips.
"I- uh I got- horny." You whisper breathing on his lips.
"Yeah? So horny you started thinking of me playing with you hmm?" Your thighs clench and you bite your lip looking up at him.
"Contéstame amor." He growls and you moan. (Answer me love)
"Mhm- it's not the first nor the last time I'll do it either." You say looking up at him with the most innocent eyes you could pull.
He groans and grinds his bulge against your stomach making your wide go wide. "Good girl...." He snarls making your thighs clench even more.
"What were you thinking of specifically right now as you came?" He asks tracing his fingers along your neck and collarbone.
"I- I- uh- mmm..."
"Answer." He growls and you nod.
He groans and quickly picks you up and holds you against the wall. "So you like being a dirty girl when I'm gone? Not even thinking I could catch you? Not bothering to think of how hard you make me...." He snarks a hand behind your neck.
This left you breathless and made you whimper more. You wrap your legs around his hips even more to have his bulge rub against your covered but drenched pussy. "I- fuck- I haven't touched myself in a week and I needed to feel something inside me- I n-never knew you thought of me that way-" you say and he growls grinding harder against you.
You both moan at the same time and he leans in millimeters from your lips. "I've been wanting to fuck you since we met." He whispers and you smash your lips together. He reciprocated and moans into your mouth.
You have one hand on his cheek and the other gripping hairs between your fingers. His were on your neck and playing with your hair. His tongue slides into your mouth and you let him. His tongue was exploring your mouth and you couldn't even believe this was happening. You tug on his shirt to take it off and he pulls away for literally a second somehow taking it off and his lips were back on yours. "Tan hermosa...." (So beautiful)
You moan and he grinds harder against you. He groans against your mouth and you feel him grab your tank top. Then you hear the sound of fabric ripping and in two seconds its gone. "I'll get you a new one." He mutters when you stopped kissing back to say something.
"So how long were you watching me for? you perv..." You ask pulling away finally getting your hands on his broad shoulders and big biceps.
"As soon as you started fucking yourself. God I heard your moans and couldn't help myself coming in to watch- mm I needed to finally have you for myself." He answers and leaves another mark on your neck but going towards your chest.
"You can have all of me." You whisper making him squeeze your tits roughly and suck on your nipple so roughly.
You gasp and he carries you to the bed. He puts you down towards the middle and he gets on top of you kissing you desperately. Your hands are all over each other and the kiss get more and more heated, needy, and hot. He pulls away and leaves trails of kisses on your jaw, when he leaves a couple marks on your neck. "Fuck-"
He kisses them after leaving marks and goes down to suck on your nipples again while his hand goes down to rub you over your panties. "Mmm- fuck- así M-Miguel." You moan out and feel yourself shake a bit.
He runs your clit a little faster but it's still sensitive so you buck your hips up whining. He stops and pulls away looking up at you, "was that too much?"
"N-no just uh still sensitive." You say looking anywhere but his eyes.
"Then how about no foreplay and I just fuck you?" He whispers making you clench your thighs.
He smirks and leans in to kiss you. You tug on the waistband of his sweats while kissing him and he grunts. "Well actually I might wanna use your mouth a bit...." He says and you smile.
You grab him and flip positions so you're on top of him. You sit up and place yourself right on his bulge and grind on it slowly. He leans his head back his mouthing in the shape of an o and his breathing heavy. "Don't tease me too much or you won't end up liking the outcome...."
You shrug and lay one hand against his chest while grinding against him. "Jesus you're so hard- did you even stroke yourself watching me or just tortured yourself and watched?" You ask with a chuckle making him smirk.
"Might’ve been more interested in the show to even do anything...." He says and winks.
You grin and go down his body, tracing your fingers along every crevice and line, along his abs and v line. You lick down his v line to where his sweats were. "Don't need these right now..." you pull them down as he shifts up a bit so you can get them over his ass.
You slide them all the way down and just look at his bulge over his tight fitting boxers. It looks so long and thick. "Wore these on purpose hm?"
"Just took a guess." He says with a smirk.
You grab the top of the boxers and pull them off slowly until you get to where the whole thing just plops out and hits his stomach making your eyes widen. "Now suck on it like you sucked on your dildo." He says making you gulp. He's insane.
It was a good 8 to 9 inches but so fucking girthy your mind couldn't wrap your head around it. You grab the bottom of it and you have to practically grab it with both your hands. You bite your lip then kiss the tip softly. Then you stick your tongue out and slap it against your wet tongue. He quietly moans and you look up at him and do it again. He rolls his eyes back and his head against the headboard. You giggle and spit on the tip watching it all go down and slowly stroke it to have all the saliva cover it. You spit on it some more and start stroking him. While you do that you go down to his balls and suck on them. You could hear him moan some more and you could feel how wet it's making you. "Así cariño no pares- ay si-" (Just like that dear don't stop- oh fuck)
You stroke him a little faster now and come up to suck on it. You get in a decent position and slide it in your mouth slowly. You close your eyes and start going down and back up. You go about halfway until he thrusts his hips making you take the whole thing down your throat, and you moan on it. You pull up and breathe out. "Would you prefer to fuck my face? I don't have a gag reflex...."
He widens his eyes and grabs you leading you towards the floor. You get on your knees while he stands in front of you. "It won't be for too long.... This time." He says with a wink making your cheeks flush red.
"I just really need to feel your throat real quick... then that wet pussy." He says and you nod.
"You can pull on my hair too if you want..."
"Dios- porque estas tan perfecta- mas que me imaginé..." he says and goes straight to work grabbing your hair with one hand and letting you put your mouth on it first. (God- why are you so perfect- more than I imagined...)
He starts to slowly move his hips letting you adjust for a few seconds before he finally starts going faster. Your head is still and he's the one doing all the moving, you close your eyes while you feel him in your mouth going deeper and deeper. You feel him go down your throat and he keeps hitting it making you drip. He goes faster and he doesn't stop moaning your name while still having a tight grip on your hair. "Fuck- Y/n your t-throat feels so good."
You moan against his dick and he groans. "Fuck this-" he says and moving back and sliding his dick out of your mouth.
He grabs your hands helping you get up only to have him man handle you on to the bed making you lay on your stomach. "Ass up now." He says in a stern voice and you comply.
You move your ass as much as you can and then arch your back. "The dirtiest girl huh?" He smirks and lines up his dick to your pussy.
"Nomas para ti Miguel." You murmur looking back at him and he moans and slams into you making you jump and whimper. (Just for you Miguel)
"H-holy fu- oh s-shit-!" you moan, your legs shaking already.
He grabs onto your hips and starts fucking you faster already not letting you adjust at all. You moan and roll your eyes back. He's moaning and groaning the room filled with the sound of skin to skin, his body against yours. "Migue-" you moan out and lay your head against the bed.
"Fuck baby- god you feel so much better than I thought you would." He says making you whimper and clench cashing him to moan.
"Fuck- oh fuck you're so tight around me baby-"
His words just do something to your body and you're already feel all dazed and obsessed with him fucking you. So many months of fantasizing and now it's finally happening. He's pounding into you and smacking your ass leaving it red. "Miguel deeper plea-"
He cuts you off by fucking you deeper making you both moan and making you clench around him again as well as whine. "O-oh fuck- oh Miguel I'm-"
"Me too baby, fuck I wanna cum inside you-" he moans out and you clench again making him go faster.
He's pounding into you and you feel your orgasm come fast. He moans with every trust he makes and it's driving you insane. Your arch is no longer an arch as your legs were slowly giving up on you but that didn't stop Miguel from still fucking you hard and also leaning down to you his mouth to your ear, and whispering dirty things to you. "Así soñabas que te cogiera nena? Eh? Quisiste esto desde que me viste huh? Yo se que yo si, mmm desde que v-veniste el primer día." (Is this how you dreamed I'd fuck you baby girl? You've wanted this since you first saw me huh? I know I did, mm since the first time you c-came.)
Your eyes rolls back and you whimper, "fuck- yes- fuck I dreamt you'd fuck me like this every- every fucking night Miguel."
He goes back to his original position but he flips you around so you're on your back while he was still inside you. "I wanna look at your pretty face while I cum deep inside you."
You wrap your arms around his neck and bring him in for a kiss. It's instantly needy and desperate, his tongue in your mouth and yours trying to go into his, with his pace still going strong. "P-pleas-"
He goes a bit slower and he moans in your mouth. Your hands go to his back light digging your nails into his skin which makes him groan. He fucks you deeper again unexpectedly so your nails dig into his skin a little harder and you feel close. "M-Miguel- I'm so- fu- I'm so clo-"
He pulls away him your mouth and nods, "me too angel- cum with me."
You moan and wrap your legs around his legs and it feels even bigger inside you. You both moan together and his legs start shaking. You're feeling tired fast but you need to cum with him. Your eyes are closing as you're ready for him to cum inside you to sleep together. You both start shaking as you clench around him and he groans finally shooting his cum inside you and your orgasm takes over, your legs shaking as he stops. You're both panting in each others face when he goes all the way inside you making sure every inch of you is covered. He slowly pulls out and all his cum spills out. "Jesus fuck Y/n- holy- god that pussy worked fucking wonders."
You shake and just nod before closing your eyes and losing consciousness. "Goodnight love."
762 notes · View notes
amberlynnmurdock · 5 months
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Neighbor Pt. 6
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Matt Murdock x Reader
Summary: On a random midnight, she comes to Matt's apartment to feel less lonely. Matt lets her in.
Words: just under 3k!
Genres: FLUFF with a dash of angst because of course... they are just two lost souls confiding in the other <3
A/N: I sort of had trouble with this chapter but she's finally here lol. This picks up from Pt. 5... hope you like it!!!
Part 5
Matt felt rejuvenated the next morning. 
Maybe it wasn’t stress he had been feeling the past few weeks… maybe it was something else, something he hadn’t felt in a while. Something that made him need sweet relief that throwing punches and taking hits couldn’t provide. He needed something more sensual—intimate. Something else to get his anxiety and frustration out. Even if it was a brush of contact. Something as simple as a touch. 
Yeah, it had been a while since he’d felt that. And it felt so good to listen to her like that… despite how wrong it was. That was until she said his name out loud. Matt pondered the question all morning as he lay in bed waiting for his alarm to go off. What did it mean? Did she like him like that? What should he do next?
  Nothing, he decided. It was wrong he knew she felt that way about him… it was wrong he continued to listen to her. It was wrong of him to think he could ever make her happy when he leads the life he leads. But God, did it feel so good to think that for a moment—just a moment—it might be possible. 
He rolls out of bed as soon as he hears his automated alarm go off. Wake up, wake up! Matt slams the alarm with his fist, harder than he intended to. He sits for a moment on the edge of his bed, feeling achy all over. Other people in the apartment are waking up right now, too. Downstairs, someone turns their stove on and begins to cook bacon. Another apartment opens its windows to the cool winter air. And her—she’s awake now, too. She turned her TV on to the news.
“Daredevil took down an armed robbery and saved an old woman at the corner bodega…“ 
Matt tunes it out immediately. 
It was strange to hear news about himself playing in her apartment. It made him uncomfortable. There he was, imagining a future with her and playing with the idea of being intimate with her, all the while having one of the biggest secrets ever. 
After a hot shower and brewing coffee, Matt was just about to be on his way out. He heard her shuffling behind her door, slipping her boots on, and zipping up her coat. They always walked out at the same time, an unspoken ritual. Maybe it was safer to keep it like this, Matt thought. Maybe this was as far as they’d ever go. 
Matt took a deep breath as he stepped out, unsurprisingly at the same time as she did. Matt heard her heart rate quicken as she saw him. 
“G’morning, Matt,” she said softly, as casually as she could.
“Morning,” he smiled. Act natural. “Sleep well?” 
She paused, ever so slightly, and locked her door. “I did, better than I normally do. You?”
“Same,” Matt answered, picking up on her hesitation. Maybe he should leave the conversation at this, not push anything further. From the way she was speaking quietly to her slight quiver, Matt knew she was nervous. He didn’t want to make her feel that way. 
“I hope you have a good day, Matt,” she smiled, walking ahead of him down the stairs. Before Matt could give a response, she was already out the door. Matt slowly followed behind, somehow feeling guilty about it all over again. 
She weighed heavy on his mind all day—did he do something wrong unknowingly? All of this was confusing—he heard her say his name at her most intimate, and this morning she seemed to want to avoid him altogether. What happened?
Maybe he was overthinking it. Maybe there wasn’t anything wrong. 
***
Matt walked up the steps to his apartment slowly, one hand using his cane to guide himself, the other holding onto the rail. He passed the floors of the other apartments. They were all so loud to him. Fran had the TV on a bit higher than usual. Someone’s dog was barking begging to be fed. Another was on the phone having a heated conversation with an in-law. All day, Matt was consumed by conversations he wished not to be part of. Sounds he wished he could drown out and turn off.
Finally, he reached the floor of his apartment—and hers. He liked that he shared this floor with only her. He paused at the top of the steps and pressed his fingertips against the wall. She was inside, home already from work. From the sound of her soft breathing and very still movement, Matt knew she was sleeping. A part of him melted inside. Tired from a long day of work himself, he walked as quietly as he could to his apartment and opened the door slowly to avoid making any sound.
He wasted no time changing into his Daredevil gear and waiting on his roof.
***
Matt felt accomplished when he arrived back on his rooftop after a night out as Daredevil. He stopped another robbery and saved an old couple’s bodega. He saved an old man from being mugged. He saved a young girl and her mother from an abusive ex-boyfriend. 
Entering his apartment, he stripped himself of his Daredevil gear and locked it away in his old trunk. He paused, hand still on the locked trunk that held his most detrimental secret. This trunk used to belong to his father. He pushed it inside the closet and closed the door. He made a sign of the cross and stalked off to the bathroom. 
It was shortly past midnight. After washing off in the shower, Matt changed into sweatpants. He lay in bed and shut his eyes. His thoughts always drifted to the same thing: was there more to this life, than just keeping a secret? 
After reciting a prayer and just as he was about to fall asleep, he heard a gentle knocking on his door. His eyes shot open and his senses were fully engaged in the source of the sound. More knocks came. It was her. She shivered under her cardigan and shifted in her slippers from foot to foot, anxiously. Was something wrong? Why was she at his door so late?
Matt threw on a shirt quickly and walked over to open his door. Just as she was about to turn around and retreat to her apartment, thinking this is stupid, Matt opened his door. She stood there with her arms tucked around her frame and shivered from the cold in the hallway.
“Hi,” she said in a tired voice, “I’m sorry, Matt. I know it’s late. But I heard your shower go off and assumed you were awake and—God, I realize how creepy that sounds that I heard your water running so I knew you were awake—never mind. I’ve spoken too much,” she rambled nervously, shivering from the cold in the hallway. Matt was surprised by her presence; he wasn’t upset at all. He welcomed her sudden appearance but couldn’t help but wonder why she was there. 
Not to mention her apologizing for hearing his water running, and assuming he was awake. After all the things he’s heard her do through her apartment… Matt was in no place to judge (not that he would, anyway).
“It's okay,” Matt whispered her name. “I was awake. Is everything alright?”
“Yeah,” she said, and Matt didn’t have to listen to her heartbeat to know she was lying. It was in her voice, her mannerisms. The way she answered quickly without really considering his question. “I just—“ and she was shivering so much.
“You can come in,” Matt opened the door wider. “It’s cold in the hall.” 
“Okay,” she stepped inside his apartment and away from him as he shut his large, old door. Matt locked it and turned around to smile at her. It was then Matt realized he forgot to put his glasses on. 
“I’m sorry, let me get my glasses on,” Matt said sheepishly, reaching for them on the side table. 
“It’s okay,” she said, “you don’t have to put them on.” She paused, looking at his handsome face in the low glow of his apartment. He wasn’t hard to look at at all—from his warm hazel eyes to his plump lips. 
“Are you sure you won’t be uncomfortable?” He asked. 
“Yeah,” she answered. “I’m barging in on your place—you don’t have to sacrifice your comfort for mine.” 
He smiled at that and then offered her to take a seat on his couch. He allowed her a moment to get a sense of her surroundings—she’d never been in his apartment before. Her heartbeat was steady. She looked around his living room and squinted at the windows when the large screen across the street flashed bright purple and pink lights. 
“Wow,” she said, looking back at his dark apartment. “Those are bright.”
“So I’ve heard,” Matt said lightly with a warm smile. “Do you want any water?”
“I’m okay. Thank you.”
She curled up on the corner of his brown leather couch, tucking her feet in underneath her legs. She was still shivering. Matt offered her the blanket that lay on it and she took it gracefully. 
“I’m sorry to bother you,” she said sheepishly wrapping the blanket around her shoulders, “truthfully, I couldn’t sleep and I could use a friend to talk to.”
A friend? Matt’s heart jumped at this. She considered him a friend. 
“I’m glad you came,” Matt replied. 
“On Christmas, you told me that any time I felt lonely, I could come by. So… this is one of those times.”
“Yeah,” Matt nodded. “Felt lonely tonight?”
“Not anymore,” she sighed, pleasantly, like his presence alone was enough to cure whatever it was she was feeling. “I took a long nap after work to avoid it and woke up feeling worse than I did before. Like a harrowing, deep hole in my chest.” 
Matt knew that feeling all too well—a hole he’d been trying to fill since he was 11. It occurred to him in that moment Matt hardly knew anything about her. Where she came from, what her story was. She knew bits and pieces of him but he didn’t know anything more than that she lived alone and worked at a bookstore. 
“I understand,” Matt said. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Maybe another time,” she said, pushing the matter away. “I just wanted to get my mind off it.”
Matt was happy she was comfortable enough to come to him this late at night for nothing more than just another person to talk to. He could be that person for her—he wanted to be that person for her. 
“I didn’t know you had hazel eyes,” she said softly. “You shouldn’t hide them as much as you do behind those red glasses.” 
Matt blushed—unfamiliar with this feeling in his chest, like a bubbling warmth spread over that harrowing hole she was talking about just moments ago. “Oh,” he said. “People can get uncomfortable when they see my eyes.”
“Then screw them,” she said defiantly. “Like I said…you shouldn’t sacrifice your comfort for theirs.” 
“Thank you,” Matt replied. “For understanding that part.” 
“Were you—“
“Born blind?” Matt had finished this question so many times, that it became a habit to interject whenever anyone began to ask it. “No. It was an accident when I was a kid.”
“What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“I don’t mind,” Matt shrugged. He wanted to open up to her, as much as he could—without revealing his biggest secret of all. “I saw an old man crossing the street. A large truck with chemical containers was coming down the block at the same time. I pushed the old man out of the way. The truck lost control, and swerved to avoid hitting us. Well, it did bump me a little, and all the chemicals fell over, leaking everywhere. Some of it got in my eyes and—“
“That was it,” she finished his sentence. “Wow.” 
“That was it,” Matt repeated. His gaze fell on the carpet. He sat at the opposite end of the couch. 
“So, little Matt was a hero?” He could hear the smile in her voice when she said this. Matt chuckled. 
“I did what anyone else would have.”
“How many adults were there, do you remember?”
“It was on a random corner in Hell’s Kitchen. Plenty of people were walking around.”
“So, you did what anyone else would have avoided.”
Matt blushed, looked away from the general direction he was looking in. It felt different to be called a hero when it was coming from her lips. 
“Sure,” he finally said. “We can go with that.”
“Do you…” her voice trailed off, unsure how to phrase her next question without sounding offensive. 
“You can ask me anything,” Matt assured her. “You know a lot about me that some of my closest friends don’t know. Nothing’s off the table.”
“Do you miss having sight? That’s probably a silly question. Do you remember the last thing you saw?”
“The sky,” Matt answered, a flash of blue appearing in his mind. “That was the last thing I saw. And I do miss having sight,” Matt took a deep breath. “But there are other ways to see.”
“Absolutely,” she agreed. “How do you see in other ways?”
What a loaded question, he thought. 
“Touch, for one. I can get a sense of something when I touch it. Smell—easy to distinguish what’s on my plate. I still know what a majority of things look like.”
“But not people,” she stated. 
“Not people,” Matt affirmed. “But there’s a way for me to paint a picture in my mind.”
“How? A person describes what they look like?”
“Descriptions help,” Matt answered, “but touching their face helps a hell of a lot more.” 
She was silent for a moment, understanding his answers and pondering them. She wondered what he would think of her if he could see. Matt felt as if she was wondering that very thought.
“Do you want to touch my face?” She asked in a hesitant voice. “Or I can describe to you what I look like.”
Matt felt his heart grow in his chest. How could he answer that question, without revealing his true feelings for her right then and there? It had been months of being her neighbor that he hoped and prayed he could cross that threshold with her. Hell, it was a miracle she was in his apartment at that moment. 
“Only if you’re comfortable,” Matt finally said, shifting in his seat. 
“I am,” she whispered, leaning forward. “Come here.”
Matt moved closer to her on his couch until his left knee was touching her right. When he sat close enough to her, she grabbed his hand and wrapped her fingers around his wrist to guide him. 
Starting with her hair, she gently brushed his fingers through it. It was soft. Every thread of her hair felt like water slipping gently through his fingers. Matt held his breath as his fingers grazed her neck. He had to close his eyes for this part. Matt gently placed his hand on the side of her neck, feeling how soft her skin felt on his fingertips. Like Braille, he ran his fingers ever so lightly on her skin, goosebumps following his touch. 
He moved his hand to the side of her face, cupping her cheek in the palm of his hand. He gently ran his thumb over her brow bone, smoothing it out. Then he traced his thumb under her eye in a sweeping motion. His gaze fell on her chin. He traced the pad of his thumb down the bridge of her nose, stopping at her cupid’s bow. She gently let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding. Matt gently let out a breath too. He took his other hand and cupped the other side of her face in his palm, feeling her cheeks heat against him. Her heart was pounding in her chest, a steady boom boom, boom boom, he had come to memorize to help him fall asleep. He caressed her chin with his thumb and traced her jawline before slowly running his hand down the length of her neck, retreating to his thigh. 
“Beautiful,” Matt whispered. It was all he could say. 
“Matt…” she uttered his name, trailing off, losing her words. Her heart felt like a cement block in her chest. He swallowed hard, resisting the urge to touch her again. She reached for his hand and placed it on her face, desperate to feel how gently he held her again, something she hadn’t felt in a long time. 
She turns her head into his hand and kisses his palm. Matt moves his fingers to the back of her head and guides her lips to his, a kiss that should’ve happened a long time ago. Her lips molded to his, the taste of her bringing him back to life, filling that empty hole in his chest again. He hoped it had the same effect on her. Her hand moved to hold his face, a plan to not break the kiss. A plan that didn’t matter if it worked or not, because Matt wasn’t going to let go anytime soon. He wasn’t going to let go of her. 
When she eventually did pull back, he only wanted more. 
“Thank you,” she whispered breathlessly, “for letting me in.” 
Letting her into his apartment, or letting her into his heart—both answers were suitable. 
Eventually, she did go back to her apartment, for reasons they didn’t need to say out loud. But it would be a while until they brought up this night again. 
______________________________________________________________
TAGS: @mattmurdocksstarlight @yentroucnagol @danzer8705 @allllium @i-marvel-bitch @babygrlmurdock @writtenbyred @uncle-eggy @marvelcinematiquniverse @sweetbee0108
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pathetic-sapphic · 6 months
Note
arcane characters and their toxic traits in a relationship?
Arcane characters and their toxic traits
a/n: it is almost 5 am so i haven't proofread it yet ;; hope you'll enjoy it regardless
VI
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Tries to take on all the burden and suffering on her shoulders. She never wants you to get hurt or to bother you so she'd rather suffer in silence. This greatly affects your communication as she may get distant whenever she's dealing with some problems, which in turn may make you think that you did something wrong and that she's ignoring you. This simply comes from a traumatic past where Vi always had to take accountability and sacrifice herself for others. She will work on it once she sees the way it affects your relationship though. She just doesn't want to be a burden.
JINX
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Very insecure when it comes to your love and loyalty towards her. Jinx is so used to thinking that everyone will eventually abandon her and you're the one person she really cannot lose. Because of this, she will often come off as overprotective and possessive. You will need to make your boundaries clear and reassure her often. Because she's so scared of losing you, sometimes she will go to drastic ends in order to make sure you're still happy with her and don't want to break up. Can also be very impulsive and has trouble sticking to the plans you two made.
CAITLYN
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Can come off as insensitive when it comes to finances. Of course, she understands that many people aren't quite as well-off and Caitlyn genuinely cares for everyone but sometimes she doesn't quite understand how affluent she is. She might overwhelm you with expensive gifts, luxurious trips or over the top galas. She won't understand if you're ever hesitant when buying something or why you always make sure to see what's on sale at the market. It will take some time getting used to and you'll have to explain to Caitlyn the differences between your upbringings. Caitlyn isn't a judgemental partner, she just likes to spoil you, though she will tone it down if she notices you getting uncomfortable.
EKKO
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Very stubborn when it comes to asking for or receiving help. He will push you away and hide his wounds or problems from you. Ekko is just so used to handling things on his own that he hates the idea of letting you bear his burden. He needs a long talk with you where you'll show him your support and help him realize the importance of confiding in one another. Ekko doesn't realize that it isn't a one-sided thing, meaning that if he helps you out when you need it, you'd do the same for him. Sure, he has the Firelights, many of them who are his friends but he rarely felt comfortable enough to confide in anyone. It's easy to forget that he is just a boy, trying to shoulder the weight of the world, and that he doesn't have to do it all alone.
SEVIKA
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Surprisingly inexperienced when it comes to romantic relationships. Sevika rarely gets attached to someone, beyond the sexual sense. For her, lovers are people she sleeps with to release the tension and frustration that builds up during her shift. She never truly had a partner, someone to whom she can show her soft side, someone who will cherish her beyond her body and money. Because of this, she often struggles with showing love towards her partner in a non-sexual way or a way that doesn't include physical touch. Words. That is the biggest problem for Sevika; expressing her appreciation and adoration through kind declarations is something that will take a while for her to learn.
SILCO
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Silco is often too focused on his cause towards Zaun and forgets his other priorities besides that one. This causes him to overwork and come off as cold towards anyone he deems a threat to his goal. Because of this, he may ignore his partner whenever he's stressed out and deep into work. He's also rarely home, and since he isn't a fan of PDA, it can be hard to deal with the feeling of missing him so much. He tries to make it up to you with gifts but you'll need to explain to him that such luxurious things cannot replace his touch and company.
VANDER
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Similar to Vi (where do you think she got that trait from?), Vander is so used to shouldering everything on his own. He wants to assure for you to live a comfortable and fulfilled life, even at the cost of his own happiness. He works tirelessly to keep the Last Drop and the Lanes afloat and seldom shares the workload with you. You can see how the stress wears him down but he will deny it until he completely bursts under pressure. Vander doesn't understand how much it hurts to see him like this, but some kind words and gentle touches can help when coaxing him into leaning on you too.
VIKTOR
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Workaholic who never takes care of himself. So burdened down with the little time that he has left, Viktor doesn't plan to waste any of it by doing trivial stuff such as eating or resting. As loving as he is, Viktor can be an insanely stubborn partner. You'll probably have to hoist him over your shoulder and lock the door to his office in order to take him away from work for a couple of hours. He doesn't realize just how detrimental the negligence when it comes to taking care of himself is to his health. You need to explain to him that he won't get anywhere by working himself to the grave and you'll probably have to beg him to let you take care of him.
JAYCE
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As smart as he is when it comes to his field of work, Jayce can be quite dense and heedless of other people's feelings. If you're the type of person who doesn't know how to talk about their problems or struggles with communication, there will be some issues in your relationship with Jayce. He's the type of person who asks you what's wrong and, once you give him a half-assed 'Nothing, I'm fine.', he goes all 'okay :D', pats your back and wanders off. You need to be direct and blunt with him because hints and exaggerated sighs simply won't do the trick.
MEL
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Mel is an incredibly intelligent woman who knows how to get what she wants. This means that she can be quite manipulative at times, I mean you have to be if you want to succeed in politics. She'd never act that way with you on purpose, of course not, but it may happen unintentionally. She is also another workaholic who may appear too cold with her feelings but this is simply because she's hesitant to bring her walls and defenses down. It'll take a lot of time and patience to see her vulnerable side.
GRAYSON
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Grayson is sort of a combination between Viktor and Vander; works too much and is too selfless for her own good. Grayson takes her job very seriously, safety of the citizens is of the utmost importance to her. This leads to her neglecting her own well-being and health. Lots of caffeine and many long nights in the office are spent by Piltover's Sheriff and, the older she gets, the more it wears down on her. It's hard to ignore the bags under her eyes or the tiredness in her voice as she drags herself into your shared home late at night.
AMBESSA
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Quite cold and guarded, someone who doesn't appreciate or understand feelings like mercy or kindness. She believes that every single person is inherently selfish and wants something from her. This is why she doubts your good nature so much in the beginning. It has been a long time since Ambessa let herself get involved romantically with someone so she has a lot of re-learning to do. This may come with a cost of your feelings being hurt from time to time, especially if you're a sensitive and kind-hearted person. As much as Ambessa loves you and tries to show that, it isn't easy to sweep years of experience under the rug. You'll need to be strong while she gets used to upholding a romantic relationship.
CASSANDRA
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Cold and regal, oftentimes comes off as strict. Cassandra only wants the best for you but sometimes she just doesn't know how to say it. So instead she might go behind your back in order to ensure your safety and happiness. This often backfires, especially because of your opposing opinions. You feel as if she's treating you like a child while Cassandra simply thinks that she's looking out for you. Is also insanely stubborn, it'll take time for her to learn to look at things from your perspective.
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zapernz · 6 months
Note
Okay get this
Giving TCW!Ani the best handjob ever
Like at first it's slow and barely touching him and he's a begging and moaning and writhing mess because you tease his dick so much (e.g. flicking the tip, running a fingertip up his length to watch it twitch) and this goes on for a few minutes until you unexpectedly start jerking him off faster than the speed of light and he starts screaming and crying and lasts like 20 seconds before coming all over 😫
(Lil gift for your plane trip cause why not)
⋆shadow moses⋆
MOANING AT THIS GOOD GAWWWD
nsfw; handjob, use of “baby”, teasing
lowkey kinda hate this but whatever 😜
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currently you’re sitting on the couch of your quarters of the ship you share with anakin, the clone wars has been absolutely gruelling on him, even though he would never actually admit it.
these days you never know what time if at all anakin will come home, its stressful for all involved and you just try to do anything to keep your mind occupied.
you got up off the couch to walk to your shared bedroom to grab a hoodie, you didn’t get further than the door when anakin came rushing in towards you, you couldn’t even get a word in before he crashed your lips together heatedly, you pull away, looking at the man before you, blushing, pupils blown wide, the curls of his short hair stuck to the nape of his neck, and forehead with sweat. “ani? you alright?” to try and help ground him you run your fingers through his hair and scratch the back of his head.
he closes his eyes and sighs at the motion, he eventually mutters out an “m sorry i just-“ he looks at you, and you tilt your head letting him speak, “i just want you to.. help me” you look at him, “help you? what do you need help with?”, avoiding your worried gaze he bites his lip and takes your hand from his hair moving it to his crotch, revealing the obviously uncomfortable situation in his pants.
“want me to make you feel good baby?”, he mumbles “please”, wordlessly you take his hand and take him to your shared room, you sit with him on the bed and he is immediately all over you, kissing you hard and passionately, tongues exploring each others mouths.
you tap on his chest to signal him to take the armour off. he gets back up and strips his armour off, then his robes, leaving him in his underwear. he sits back on the bed with you and you lightly push his shoulder to get him to lie down, you straddle him on his lower thighs so you have access to his dick. you run your fingers lightly over the bulge in his underwear making him groan and reaches out for your other hand to hold it.
looking at him, flushed, red and vulnerable, you lean down to kiss over his stomach softly, and then a quick peck to his lips. you take your hand out of his with a chuckle and a whine in protest from him, you hold your fingers at the waistband of his boxers looking at him, he nods frantically as you lift yourself off of him to pull them off.
you straddle him again, in the same area you were before, and retake his had into yours. looking at the amount of precum gathering on his stomach, you gather it in your hand and stroke him once with it using it as lube, he lets out a high pitched whimper “fuck”. you lightly rub your thumb over the tip making him shiver.
you move down so your lips can make contact with his upper thighs, lightly kissing and occasionally sucking to leave your mark. he squeezes your hand and says softly “please”, you bite his thigh, making him groan “patience ani”. you look back up at him and then softly run your finger up the prominent vein on the underside of his shaft watching the way it twitches at the action, he moans “ohmygod”.
“please, please i need to- cum” he stutters out, sentence broken by whines, while you continue teasing him. “need to? or you want to?” you tease. he throws his head back and groans in frustration.
after running your finger over the tip watching him shiver one last time you spit in your hand and start jerking him off at a quick pace, at this his eyes start watering up at the amount of pleasure and he’s letting out those loud moans that are just music to your ears. “fuck fuck fuck” he chants. “yeah? gonna cum ani?” he’s so close, he can feel himself about to go over the edge but has no time to announce it before he’s cumming all over your hand.
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dabislittlemouse · 1 year
Text
SINFUL TEMPTATION
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Shigaraki x Dabi x fem!Reader
A/N: this is not a new fic. this is just a repost of one request I got back then. Maybe some of you have read it
Warnings: SMUT- Minors DNI /noncon/cockwarming/cheating/ threesome/anal/orgasm denial/ dirty talking/ humiliation. DO NOT CLICK FURTHER TO READ IF IT'S NOT YOUR CUP OF TEA.
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With your boyfriend Dabi being gone in a mission for more than a week, you’d been all by yourself, alone and so sooo needy, to the point your cunt aches for him. You try to get that pleasure all by yourself with your own fingers, but you could never do it like he does. You’ve been feeling more vulnerable than ever, probably from Dabi’s absence which had you going insane. You were pathetically needy for him, so you felt like crying at any second, the unhealthy attachment to him was real.
One night you were at the base, watching a movie by your own when suddenly the leader enters in, looking visibly exhausted and frustrated. “What’s wrong Tomura?” you quietly ask.
He sits down beside you, closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath. “Jus’another day trying to tame the giant brat Machia, what else could there be?” he snarled, clearly annoyed by your question, as if you didn’t know their goal to tame the giant beast. You nodded silently, not wanting to annoy your leader anymore.
“Y-Yeah right..” you mumble. “Uhh.. Tomura?”
“What?” he responds.
“Do you know when Dabi comes back?” you ask nervously.
“Probably in one of these days. Not sure though, the bastard might either take his sweet time to finish the mission or just blow everything to shit” he says, scratching his neck. You simply nod, shifting uncomfortably at your seat, clearly his answer didn’t make you feel relieved at all. Shigaraki glanced at your figure, noticing the way you got visibly uneasy, body squirming and your eyes holding a tint of sadness.
“What.. don’t tell me you gon’ cry or something” Shigaraki chuckles, watching you furrow your eyebrows in embarrassment. Pathetic.
“I won’t cry” you snap back at him, voice shaking. “I was just curious, that’s all. It’s been lonely without him.”
Humming, Shigaraki decided not to bother you too much about it. You notice him looking up as if he was contemplating something though. Suddenly a smirk makes itself visible on his face, as his crimson eyes turned back at you, studying your small figure.
“I could help you with it..” he whispers with his raspy voice, getting a bit closer to you. “M’sure I could make the stress go away for a bit, knowing how noisy the two of you are at the late hours at night, I can’t blame you for missing him now can I?”
Your face turned red at his words, eyes moving to another direction, too embarrassed to look at him. It was clear enough what he was implying here.
“N-No thank you.. I’ll just wait for him”
“You sure?” He asks, placing a firm hand on your leg, lithe fingers almost reaching your inner thigh teasingly. Your breath hitched, suddenly it felt too hot you could almost sweat.
“I’ve been having a rough day too y’know..” Shigaraki added. “And for sure you’ve not been feeling good as well, so why don’t we-" His other hand grabbed your chin gently, slowly turning your head to face him. “..why don’t we help each other out?” he says seductively, slowly licking his lips.
“Be useful to your boss now will ya’?”
Your heartbeat got faster as you watch him unzipping his pants, shamefully palming himself in front of you, while his other hand patted his lap. As wrong as this was, you couldn’t help your carnal desires, feeling your panties slowly getting soaked.
“Won’t tell Dabi.. promise. Now c’mere” he whispers, needy eyes staring at your plush thighs. Swallowing hard, you took off your pants shyly, sliding on to his lap, feeling his hard erection between your bare folds. Shigaraki smirked, noticing how wet you already were, and with ease he slid himself in you, groaning in pleasure at the warmth your velvety walls wrapped his cock in. You sighed softly as he filled you to the brim, welcoming the new feeling.
“Nngh f-fuck.. no shit Dabi keeps you around hun” he laughs, hands finding themselves on both of your asscheeks, caressing them slowly. “Now let’s just continue watching the movie yeah?”
You are confused, he doesn’t move at all, just sits there as your poor cunt is spasming around his cock, wanting to move so bad. “W-What? Tomura, but you said that-"
“Yeah I know what I said” he rasped out. “Be patient, needy thing.”
Embarrassed, you just stay there, burying your head on his neck as you hear him groaning softly, relaxed in your warmth. You felt so guilty, so you tried imagining this was Dabi instead of another man, trying to avoid the fact that you were cheating. Staying like this for a couple of minutes, Shigaraki grabs the back of your neck, making you face him, hungry lustful eyes staring right back at yours.
“Don’t you have any shame at all?” he whispers, slowly thrusting up into you, catching you off guard. “Cheating on your lover for some dick..are you this easy?” he cackles, watching you whine at his thrusts. “Pathetic”
He set up a slow agonizing rythm, his hands on your hips bringing you down on his cock as he thrusted upwards.
God, it just felt so good. This will be first and last time. You just needed some relief right? Nothing else, you’ll go back to Dabi and-
The sudden opening of the door had you both startled, your heart almost pumping out of your ribcage as heavy footsteps were coming closer to the room the both of you were. Eyes widening in terror, you saw the raven haired villain walking towards you both, his azure eyes wide in shock at the view in front of him.
“Dabi.. you’re back earlier than I thought..” Shigaraki smiled lazily, his cock now throbbing inside of you in excitement and the thrill of getting caught like that. Immediately you tried to move yourself out of his lap, but Shigaraki’s hands were too strong and just kept you there, preventing you from moving.
“N-No.. let me go. Dabi, I can explain-"
“Shut that mouth you cheating little slut” the villain says sternly, bringing tears on your eyes as the leader sits back, watching in amusement.
“C’mon Dabi, cut her some slack. She just wanted to help, ain’t that right?” Shigaraki says smugly, watching Dabi furiously come towards them, harshly pulling your hair in process and making you scream.
“Haaah, you lying little whore!” Dabi chuckled darkly, his azure eyes holding pure rage as he saw you impaled on Shigaraki’s cock. “This slutty cunt of yours couldn’t wait until I got back, huh? So you go spread your legs for other men behind my back-"
He got closer to your face, spitting on it in the process and you winced, a choked sob escaping your mouth. Shigaraki groaned underneath, the scene in front of him making it hard to stay still and not thrust into your pathetic pussy.
“Though I gotta say-” Dabi adds, his hot palm striking hard across your face, making your cheek burn in the process. “-you do look good like this. Like a cheap whore.”
He starts unbuckling his belt, letting his already hard cock out and smacking it across your cheek.
“Dabi- mmhf Dabi please stop, let’s talk this out I-” you cry out, guilt eating you from the inside out.
“Dabi oh please Dabi stop” Shigaraki mocks underneath you, now more impatient than ever as he starts thrusting up into you, making you bounce on his cock. You plead for him to stop, embarrassed to get fucked like this in front of your lover. “F-Fuck.. that’s some good pussy you be gettin Dabi”
“Shut it you bastard” Dabi says irritated, precum already leaking out of his cock at your pathetic sight. Dabi was not one to share, but this could be.. an exception.
“Open. Now” he ordered you, shoving his cock right in your mouth and making you choke on it.
“M’gonna kill you. Fuck- just like this. Just like a whore like you deserves, choking on cock nnghh-” Dabi growls, hips slamming faster into your mouth, as you gagged on his thickness, meanwhile Tomura’s thrusts got more aggressive, the tip of his cock hitting your cervix over and over. You digged your nails on his hips, begging for him to stop but Dabi grabbed your wrists, heating his hand up enough to burn you slightly.
“Shit m’gonna cream this tight cunt of hers-" Tomura groans, eyes lulled out as his head falls back in pleasure.
“Haaah not yet-" Dabi says, pulling his cock out of your mouth as you gasped for air, coughing hard. Without letting you much time to breathe, he gets behind you, positioning himself good enough so his cock could easily enter your butthole. Now you were sandwiched between them, Dabi behind you and Shigaraki underneath you.
“My needy slut wanted some dick yeah?” Dabi whispers in your ear, spitting on his fingers to play with your tight hole, stretching it out slightly.
“N-No, Dabi please forgive me..” you cry out, face flushed in embarrassment.
“Oh, I will forgive you. But not now”
Without any further preparation he slams himself right into your tight hole, cock pushing deeply as you whined loudly.
“Shit! Nghh fuck- fuck so fucking tight f’me aahha!” Dabi moans out blissfully, not wasting any second before ramming into you roughly. The feeling was too overwhelming, both cocks hitting the deepest parts of you, feeling so full of them as the villains used your sore holes for their own pleasure.
“Guess the little slut really likes this- fuck, the way she’s squeezing me mmhmf-” Shigaraki groans out, smirking lazily at Dabi.
“Yeah, bet you always wanted to fuck the boss you nasty bitch-” he growls, both hands finding your tits and pinching harshly on your nipples, before going down again to rub your clit, turning you into a moaning mess. Oh it was good alright, you felt your orgasm reaching slowly as they brutally fucked into you.
“Gahhh fuck- m’not gonna last-" Shigaraki moans before he’s spurting hot seed deep inside your cunt, some of it leaking out in the process as he throws his head back, groaning loudly. “Take it- fuck, take it all!”
Dabi chuckles, before pulling you in for a deep kiss, still thrusting into you. “If you wanted to be the League’s cumdump, you could’ve said so, doll”
He knew your body too well, the moment your legs started quivering uncontrollably and your moans were getting lewder and louder, he knew you were getting close. And that’s when he removed his fingers, completely pulling out of you and pushing you off Shigaraki’s cock as well.
“Wh-what?! Dabi!!” You mewl pathetically as he prevented you from cumming, your legs squeezing tight together as you looked at him all bothered and frustrated. The both of them laughed at you, as Dabi got closer, grabbing your chin with his warm hand.
“This is your punishment. Cheating whores don’t get to cum. And I’ll do this every single day and night, I’ll empty my fuckin’ balls in you for hours, and I won’t let you cum. Not once.” he smiles sadistically at the dumbfounded look in your face while Shigaraki chuckled, fixing his pants and preparing to leave.
“And if you dare cum without my order, I’ll slap that cunt of yours until it’s red and bleeding. Yeah?” he whispers, licking the tears off your eyes.
“I-I’m so sorry.. Dabi please don’t- forgive me..” you cry softly,
“I will forgive you. Only when I’m sure you’ll be my good girl and never disobey me again...” he says, standing up and leaving you there alone on the couch, all filthy. Dabi turns back at you again, lustful eyes staring at your naked form.
“Get movin’ slut! We have a long night ahead of us”
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taglist: @mostlyheinous @syrenkitsune @holydayaria @simpforthemall @keiskake @touyatodorokislut @sukunas-bitxh @dabislittlesluttyprincess @arinexeisnotworking @passionfruitandmangos
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growingstories · 2 months
Text
Drew Miller was a young man named and was the epitome of popularity in his high school, known for his charm, good looks, and his exceptional skills as a heavyweight wrestler. Drew was admired by all, and he relished the adoration he received.
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But alas, Drew's dreams were shattered when a series of injuries forced him to quit wrestling. Without the rigorous training required to maintain his previous weight, Drew began to put on pounds. However, he couldn't bring himself to start losing weight, believing he could still shed the excess pounds later on.
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Determined to move forward in life, Drew landed a job at an office. The daily routine of sitting, combined with his overindulgence in unhealthy snacks and meals, led to further weight gain. Drew's shirts grew tighter, making him feel frustrated and uncomfortable in his own skin. But instead of changing his eating habits, he found solace in food, seeking temporary relief from his mounting stresses and disappointments.
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During this time, Drew met a young guy named Patrick, who also happened to be a wrestler from their high school. Patrick was determined to bulk up for his next wrestling weight class, and Drew, eager to remain a part of the wrestling scene, decided to eat alongside him. Patrick was extremely handsome and ripped. He was much smaller than Drew but had an amazing ripped shape.
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As Andrew continued to stuff himself with food, the pounds continued to pile onto his already substantial figure. Meanwhile, Patrick achieved his desired bulk and moved up to the next weight class. Patrick loved being pushed by the bigger Drew and Drew loved the feeling of being the big one. Patrick often pushed Drew to eating more. Their sex was amazing.
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Unfortunately, Drew's eating habits began to take a toll on his fitness, leaving him increasingly unfit. Despite his struggles, the two continued to enjoy a vibrant love life filled with passion and desire. However, Drew often found himself out of breath during their intimate encounters, making him aware of his declining physical condition. Simple tasks like tying his shoes became arduous challenges, and Drew couldn't ignore the impact his weight gain was having on his daily life. Also Patrick started noticing differences in his shape. He was getting stronger by the day but all this bulking made him to start losing his knife sharp abs but also his jeans became too tight as his legs had an amazing growth spurt. Which made Drew constantly wanting to squeeze Patricks ass and getting hornier all the time.
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Patrick, faced a another battle. After a grueling lost match, he realized he needed to lose weight in order to compete in a lower weight class. Also coach advised him to either get much stronger or lose weight and thrive in a lighter weight class. Determined to achieve his goal, he embarked on a strict diet and intense training regimen. As Patrick tried to shed weight and grow stronger, Drew's eating and cooking habits remained unchanged. He continued to grow bigger, seemingly oblivious to the impact on his health and well-being. Despite his increasing size, Drew found immense joy in his life, basking in the love and acceptance he received from Patrick and others around him. But his cooking and caring for Patrick resulted in Patrick gaining more weight instead of a cut. His abs almost completely covered by a layer of fat. Realizing this he accepted his fate and decided to try to get stronger in a heavier weight class.
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And so, their intertwined journey continued - Patrick striving to achieve his wrestling dreams by making sacrifices and become big and strong and staying disciplined, while Drew found comfort in his expanding girth, deciding to embrace his current body and live life to the fullest and take care of his bulking wrestler boyfriend.
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mariespen · 4 months
Text
Final Stress ೀ⋆。˚
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college au - jj maybank x reader summary: reader gets stressed during the start of finals warnings: none!
╭── ⋅ ⋅ ���─ ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮
Looking at your study guides for finals week, you figured it was high time to drop out already. Junior year of college had been hard enough, now finals were drumming everything else out until your ears bled. You sat at your computer, the confines of the small bedroom that you shared with your boyfriend, JJ, becoming more and more claustrophobic. But you didn’t budge, uselessly scrolling through all of the content that you had to memorize. 
The pit in your stomach didn’t ease up, not even an hour later when you found yourself in the same spot, making every reasonable attempt to start studying. You were frustrated and incredibly uncomfortable, but at an incredibly lack of motivation. The clothes suffocating your body and the insufferable feeling of hunger sat with you as your headache got worse. 
The door of your apartment opened and you still sat, staring blankly at your pages of notes that felt useless.
“M’back!” JJ called, stepping back inside from one of his later lectures.
You heard his beat up backpack hit the floor but you still stared blankly at the screen, fighting back tears as you read through the details of your final exams.
“Baby?” You heard JJ ask from the living room, but you stayed quiet, knowing he’ll find you eventually.
He walked into the room, a confused look on his face. It wiped off when he saw you hunched over your computer.
“What’re you doin?” He asked, walking in and laying down on the bed, looking at the back of your head.
He sat up when he didn’t get a response, seeing that you hadn’t moved or made a sound yet. He hadn’t even heard a breath from your mouth.
“Baby?” He asked, quieting his voice and walking over, resting his hands on your shoulders and rubbing them gently before pressing a kiss to your cheek.
His brows furrowed when his lips came back wet with tears. He stepped around the desk, looking at you with concern lacing his features.
“What’s wrong, princess?” He asked, leaning down to be face to face with you, using his thumb to guide your face to look at his.
“M’fine, Jayj.” You said, frustration flaming in your eyes as you snapped your head away and went back to your study guide.
He threw his hands up in surrender, going back to the bed. After being with you for three years, he knew that you weren’t really fine. He looked at you, trying to pinpoint exactly what was wrong.
“D’you want to get food?” He said, your stomach growled but you ignored it, feeling incredibly frustrated more than anything.
“I’m fine.” You repeated, your voice a little stronger than before.
“M’kay..” He said, laying back and resting his head on the pillows, grabbing his phone and scrolling through it, waiting for you to calm down.
Tears fell down your cheeks for the fifth time that night, the frustration and hunger piling onto you all at once. You held your head in your hands, your shoulders shaking softly. JJ noticed, his eyes softening as he got up, going over to your desk and brushing the hair out of your face.
“C’mon pretty lady..” He said, leaning against the desk, embracing your shoulders and kissing the top of your head.
“JJ, I’m fine.” You wiped the tears off of your face and went back to your computer, scrolling down to the next concept. He cupped your cheek with one hand, moving your face to meet his.
“Talk to me.” He said, pressing a kiss to your lips.
You relaxed into him, looking up at his face, his expression knitted with concern.
“I don’t know.” You admitted, everything falling down on you all at once. 
JJ helped you up and you winced, the feeling of your uncomfortable clothes making you cringe. He towered over you, kissing your forehead and helping you to the bed. He noticed your stiffness and grabbed your sweats and one of his hoodies, handing them to you. 
“Thanks.” You whispered, taking them and changing, laying back on the bed.
“M’always gonna take care of my lady, yeah?” He said, sliding in next to you and kissing your cheek, letting you rest on his chest as he threaded his fingers through your hair.
“I’m hungry..” You muttered, admitting defeat as the hood of his hoodie covering your eyes as you laid into him. You could feel his knowing smile from above you as he stifled an ‘I told you so.’
“Okay, let’s order something.” He replied instead, grabbing his phone and holding it so the two of you could see the screen. 
You quietly clicked the food you wanted and he did the same, setting down the phone and getting off the bed. You let a pout come over your face and he grinned at you, picking you up and carrying you to the living room.
“Js relax, baby. You have time to study later.” He said into you, sitting down and grabbing a blanket for the two of you.
Kissing the side of your head, JJ flipped on the tv and let you slowly fall asleep on him. He smiled, wondering how he got so lucky, holding the love of his life.
╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯
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1d1195 · 2 months
Text
Toothpaste I
For you: 🐱 I hope you are feeling better and this is a little something to make you happy. Been thinking about this for a while.
~1.6k words
“Okay, don’t write emails to dentists when you’re in pain,” she shook her head tilting her head back to look at the ceiling.
Dr. Styles chuckled. His laugh was warm, like a chocolate fountain. Or a blanket on a cold January day. “I don’t have patients on Wednesdays,” he murmured.
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Twenty-eight was her least favorite number. She dreaded the entire year when she finally hit her twenty-eighth birthday. It seemed like an entire year was going to mock her and she was right.
She got two cavities that year.
Twenty-eight was the number of teeth she had left after her wisdom teeth were pulled when she was sixteen. Twenty-eight was the number of brackets on her teeth that held her braces together when she was eighteen. Cavities plagued her. Sensitivity. Special mouth wash and special toothpaste were needed for the upkeep of her teeth.
When the pain started in her mouth again, she was frustrated, exhausted, and sad.
But this was the second time this tooth had to be filled. It wasn’t the first time her dentist had to fill a tooth more than once. She looked up a second office in response. Her heart was fluttering with anxiety. She had brought a book to read but she couldn’t focus. Her head was starting to ache. She left work early which stressed her out to no end because her boss was a dick and even though she should have just found a new job, she knew she wouldn’t find a better pay entry-level position than any law firm nearby. Her phone hadn’t stopped vibrating with messages and requests.
An hour. All she wanted was an hour to read her book and mourn the loss of her tooth enamel. Frustrated tears filled her eyes. Her mouth hurt and her head hurt.
“Dr. Styles is ready for you, Miss,” the hygienist said sweetly. Taking a deep breath, she collected her book back into her bag and headed toward the patient room with the hygienist down the hall. “Have a seat,” she smiled kindly. “M’just going to get you ready and then Dr. Styles will be in to look you over.”
She could feel her phone vibrating against her hip. The to do list she was anticipating was enough to amplify her headache and she was so close to crying the pain in her tooth was practically welcomed to relieve her of the anxiety and stress she was feeling.
“Good morning, love,” the dentist came in. Dark blue scrubs adorned his tall frame. He looked so handsome it left her speechless. He was looking at the computer reading over the history of her work and latest x-rays from the previous office. “Got some pain, hmm?” She nodded silently, trying to figure out how she didn’t know ahead of time that the dentist was hot as could be. That couldn’t be fair. “Y’okay, love?” He hummed glancing from the screen, his eyebrows pinched together.
“Yeah, just uncomfortable,” she murmured. “Busy day.”
He sat on the little wheelie stool and turned to look at her. His eyes were vibrantly green, his smile was sweet but sympathetic at the same time. “S’quite a bit of work y’had done, love,” he murmured and grabbed a pair of gloves to put on. “Y’got beautiful teeth in there,” he assured her.
“They’re always filled with cavities,” she muttered bitterly.
“M’sorry,” he frowned. “I noticed that myself, actually.” She felt like she was disappointing him by getting cavities. Although she had just met him, she didn’t want to disappoint Dr. Styles, which was such a bizarre worry. “Do y’need t’get that before I get started?” He glanced at the bag by her hip.
She sighed, grabbed her phone. “Hello?”
“Where are you?” Her boss snapped so loudly she pulled the phone from her ear. Either Dr. Styles didn’t hear (which she didn’t see how) or he was being kind enough to ignore it.
“A dentist appointment. I sent you an email and put it in your calendar—”
“I need your help. Now.”
There was no argument to be had in his tone.
“Mr. Dalecki,” she started. “I’m very sorry, I’ll be there in a bit but I’m in so much pain—” Her voice cracked, and she felt the tears so close to the surface. Overwhelmed by her work and her pain.
“I don’t care.”
She opened her mouth to agree or argue, she wasn’t sure what was going to come out of her mouth but then suddenly her phone wasn’t in her hand.
“Mr. Dalecki, was it?” Harry said into the phone. “Dr. Harry Styles. She’s in immense pain and I’m insistent I take care of her cavity today. It might be a root canal. She’s in no condition to work today and probably not tomorrow either. Doctor’s orders. I’ll write her a note whatever you need, but she will not be in today,” Harry put her phone on the counter away from her as it started to vibrate again. “M’sorry I suggested getting it,” he said and held out the tissue box on the counter.
She sniffled. “I need a root canal?” She whimpered.
He chuckled. “Oh, love, no. M’sorry. I jus’ wanted that man off the phone,” he shook his head. “M’sorry,” he repeated.
“Oh,” she sniffed again. “I’m really sorry. I’m so overwhelmed and upset. I’m almost terrified of being here. I always have issues and my teeth are the worst,” she cried. “I’m sorry.”
“Hey, s’alright, love,” he assured her and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Y’take care of your teeth right?” He asked.
“Religiously,” she assured him. “I brush three times a day. I floss daily sometimes twice. I use prescription toothpaste and mouthwash. I don’t eat lots of candy and I drink through a straw and water down juice or anything too sugary,” she had tears falling down her cheeks.
“Okay, love,” his thumb gently moved up and down her shoulder. She had never heard of a dentist having good bedside manners. “S’okay, m’gonna take a look now. Can I have y’sit back?” He murmured and slid back briefly on the chair and closed the door. She sniffled.
“I’m so sorry. I’m usually more put together than this,” she laughed tearily.
“S’okay I can tell y’frustrated. M’sister gets like this sometimes.”
She sniffled. “I’m sorry,” she repeated.
He turned back, put a mask over his pretty face so she had no choice but to look at his gorgeous eyes magnified by the little glasses and light that shone in her face. “Y’have really nice teeth, love,” he assured her.
“You have to say that to everyone,” she mumbled when he turned to mark something in the computer.
He chuckled. “I do not. M’sorry you’re in pain, love,” he was gentle as he placed the little mirror into his mouth. “Hmm,” he hummed.
“S-bad, in’-it?’
“No, love. S’not bad,” he murmured quietly. “Relax y’fingers and shoulders, please. Y’making me nervous,” he chuckled very softly. Like he had stuck his dental tools in her mouth a hundred times. “S’jus’ a little cavity.”
Tears sprang back to her eyes, and she nodded. “I figured.”
“M’sorry, love. S’little, though I promise. Out of here in half an hour. No root canal—I promise.”
She sniffed and glanced away. “I’m sorry,” she apologized again. “I’ve had such an overwhelming week and I put this off and it’s not even a big cavity and I’m in so much pain—” She started to cry again, and Harry pulled the glasses and light off his eyes and listened so intently, his face empathetic and kind as she bubbled with tears. She could hear her phone vibrating. “I’m pretty sure I’m going to get fired,” she croaked.
Harry frowned, turned to the cabinets, and searched for medicines to help her. He pulled his gloves off. “Let’s jus’ sit and relax for a bit,” he suggested handing her two pills and filled a little cup of water for her. She wiped her eyes and took it gratefully.
“Don’t you have other patients?”
“No,” he chuckled. “That intake form y’filled out?” Dr. Styles turned to the computer again and cleared his throat. “I am sorry to bother you, but I am in so much pain and need emergency dental help tomorrow if you’re able. My current dentist has filled this tooth twice and I think I’m going to yank the tooth out with pliers, and I don’t HAVE pliers so I will have to go buy some and I will probably pull it out in the middle of the hardware store and everyone will—”
“Okay, don’t write emails to dentists when you’re in pain,” she shook her head tilting her head back to look at the ceiling.
Dr. Styles chuckled. His laugh was warm, like a chocolate fountain. Or a blanket on a cold January day. “I don’t have patients on Wednesdays,” he murmured. Her heart skipped a beat. His kindness was unlike any dentist she had before. It felt so unnerving but nice in the best way. “But I made an exception,” he explained. “Couldn’t imagine someone pulling out a tooth at a hardware store.”
Her heart was fluttering. “I hate dentists.”
He laughed, wholeheartedly. “Even me?”
“Well...you haven’t drilled my tooth yet,” she mumbled. “But you might have gotten me fired.”
“I couldn’t in good faith let y’go back t’work, love. Not when you’re in so much pain.”
She looked at her lap. “I always have cavities.”
“M’gonna get to the bottom of it, love. Right after we fill this little guy.”
“My second bicuspid?”
“Should have been a dentist, hmm?” he smirked at his computer making notes.
“I’ve had so much work done,” she explained. “Half way through law school I thought about becoming a dentist.”
“Well, if he does fire you,” he turned back to her with a pointed expression. “And based on the reaction y’had, I think only an idiot would fire you. I’d gladly have y’work here,” he assured her. “Match whatever he paid you and then some,” he promised.
She frowned, feeling overwhelmed, sad, and relieved beyond belief.
“Thank you, Dr. Styles.”
“Call me Harry, love.”
--
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malereadermaniac · 2 months
Text
Fever ~ Ukai x male reader
Your husband takes care of you while you're ill, in more ways than one
Fluff & Smut! Minors & fem readers DNI!!
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"Why d'you think coach leave halfway through practice?" Shoyo looked up at Daichi as he questioned the taller man
"Not a clue... but he looked real worried, and he left in a hurry, I guess" Daichi responds, a quizzical look on his face
"Are you on about coach Ukai? Kiyoko told me that he had to leave to be with his husband. She was with him when he got the text that his husband was sent home with a fever" Yaichi says with a small smile as she makes her way into the conversation
"Really?? How bad is it?" Daichi says
"Really?? HUSBAND??" Shoyo says unanimously
"What? You didn't know? Coach never shuts up about 'the love of his life'" daichi says in a funny voice, mocking Keishin
The highschoolers laugh about at their conversation - in contrast to their coach, who had just arrived home in a slightly worried state
The dishevelled blonde barely took the time to remove his shoes, kicking them off in random directions as he darts towards your shared bedroom
He finds you in bed, completely covered in blankets and still shivering while visibly sweating and bright red
"Oh babe... you should of just told me yoh weren't feeling too good" Keishin coos at you, feeling bad that he let you go to work - you'd even packed his lunch for him
"Nggghh... I didn't feel this bad this morning though..." you whine, visibly uncomfortable from your cold
Ukai continues to baby you as he sets out on his plan of action
You'd think the man was running the navy at how seriously he was taking his caring for you
The muscular, older man had opened a window slightly to air the room out, brought you cold, wet towels, gently placing them on your forehead as he stroked your face lovingly
Ukai brewed you a quick soup and kneeled down next to you in bed, sitting you up slightly and feeding you the warm liquid
It was moments like these that reminded you of the many reasons you loved your husband to death and back
Ukai was so caring, he didn't mind looking after you, he even enjoyed it
You could see it in the blonde's eyes, the love and compassion he felt strongly for you - He's such a cute hunk of a man
After spending most of the afternoon looking after you, Ukai finally took a little break, changing out of his work clothes into a tank and some grey sweatpants
But just as he sat down for a quick second, Keishin heard you calling for him
However, he could tell from the tone of your voice that you weren't calling him due to your cold...
And his suspicions got confirmed once Ukai caressed your cheek asking "what's up, baby?" - and you responded by biting your lip and looking up at your husband with a look he knows all to well, grabbing his arm gently with your boiling hand
It makes sense for you to be horny in this moment, work stress and the cold coming onto you had made you not want to engage in sex with Ukai
Now that you had a moment to relax, that pent up sexual frustration had caught up to you...
"Heh... baby you can barely stand up, we're not fuckin'" Keishin chuckles at you, pouting slightly
"Ughh pleassseeeee~ Keishin I need you... I need your big dick in me right now! I wanna feel you~" you practically beg your husband to fuck your guts up
And Keishin can only deny the best feeling he's ever felt (fucking you to high heaven) so much
And whats even better is that because of Ukai's caring nature, the blonde won't allow you to put in any effort due to your fever
Hey, you're not complaining!
In a matter of seconds, your clothes are discarded to the floor along with your muscular husband's tank top - his muscles on full display for your hazy, tired eyes to oggle at
You lie on the bed, breathing slightly heavily as your body is slightly flushed and sweating - Ukai touching you as gently as he can as he bends down over you and goes in to kiss you
You sum up all of your strength and effort you have left for the day to block your mouth before Ukai can kiss you
The now horny man moves away and gives you a confused look
"You shouldn't kiss me, I'll get yoh sick..." you say with a sad smile, moving your hand to your husband's broad shoulder and toned chest
Ukai smiles sadly and chuckles, moving his mouth to your boiling body instead
"Doesn't mean I can't kiss your sexy body~" Keishin mumbles, making you chuckle as the sensation of your husband's lips on your overly sensitive body (due to your cold) makes your dick go rock solid instantly
Ukai's lips somehow feel cold on your body - the heat of your body fucking up your sense of temperature
By the time the blonde had reached you desperate dick, Ukai's fingers were already covered in his spit and prodding at your hole
Your lazy moans bounced around the room as Ukai licked and sucked your cock as he fingered your hole - his long, masculine digits pushing against your prostate with every move
"Shit babe, your ass is fuckin' warm, my fingers are melting~" Ukai mumbles against your dick, grinding his own against the bed - excited by the thought of getting his dick inside of your oven of an asshole
After what felt like hours, Keishin finally removes his fingers from your now loosened up entrance
Resisting the urge to kiss you, Ukai instead kisses your forehead and then gives you a warm smile as he moves one of your legs onto his strong shoulder
You take a deep breath as you wait for Ukai to start pushing in
Your moans increased tenfold, your cold making you much more sensitive - Ukai's moans joined yours, your hole tightening around his thick cock making your husband feel euphoric
Once Ukai had bottomed out, the man hovered over you, letting out a shaky sigh as his muscular arms held him up - positioned on either side of your head
"F-fuck babe...! You're boiling my dick like a 7-11 hotdog! Heh heh..."
Your fever was really serving a purpose in this moment, the heat of your tight walls already pushing Ukai near the edge of his orgasm
With Ukai breathing heavily above you, waiting for you to adjust to him as he tries his hardest not to cum
After a couple of moments, you weakly bring your hot arms around your husband's mucular neck and shoulders
"Haaa... can you start moving? Please, Keishin?~" you plead, squirming around under your husband from the uncomfortable fever and also your horny desperation
Ukai chuckles from above you, mumbling a curse word as he starts to gyrate his hips
The blonde's muscular body was starting to sweat, completely covering you, his groans and moans echoing in the room as his body rocked against yours
You joined Keishin in a harmony of moans, whines spewing out of your mouth from Ukai's veiny, long dick pounding into your prostate - rubbing his cock against your gummy walls, stimulating you both to the brink of orgasm
As Ukai keeps his thrusts going at a steady pace, one slightly slower rhan usual to make room for your weaker state
"Fuuuuck baby~ So good fa' me... So fuckin' warm" Keishin moans above you, moving his head down to the crook of your neck and kissing and biting at it
You lazily move your hips in tempo woth Ukai's, eagerly anticipating the orgasm you so desperately crave for
As your husband's sweat makes his blonde hair stick to his forehead, his pace starts to become uneven - his rhythm disrupted by the oncoming pleasure of his incoming climax
Your moans of Keishin's name increased in volume gradually until your voice came to a halt - unable to resort to anything else, you just silent scream in pleasure
Ukai's hips come to a halt, his heavy balls slapping against your plush ass, his fat cock buried inside of you - stuffing your ass fully
"GAHH! Fuuuuuck, (y/n)... shit, babe!" Ukai moans loudly from above you, filling your hole with his thick cum
As Keishin stuffs your guts with his seed, your own dick spasms and spurts out long strings of white cum up your body and even covering Keishin's abs
Your muscles tense to such an overstimulating extent due to your cold, your moans start to fall of deaf ears as you writhe and whine and moan is immense pleasure
After getting yourselves together, Ukai and you stay in your previous positions, recuperating your breaths as you relax your muscles
Keishin chuckles and pats your cheek, snapping you out of your little come down
"Heh... thanks, pretty boy - I needed that" Ukai says with a soft smile
" Hmhm... yeah... I did too, thanks, sexy~" you chuckle, your voice nasaly from your cold
As Ukai carries you bridal style to the tub, he kisses your head, taking in the scent that he dreams about
After washing up together and getting into a pair of fresh clothes, Ukai sets you on the couch in front of the TV as he changes your sheets - the linen currently stained with your sweat and both yours and Ukai's cum
The rest of the day was spent cuddling, Keishin taking care of your every need - which, of course, meant taking care of any sexual needs that reared their beautiful heads
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rogueddie · 3 months
Text
Lost in You T | 1,247 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is when you look at his lips for half the conversation because you can't stop thinking about kissing him
Steve had a problem.
Or, no- Steve has a problem.
He did think it was a one off issue, something that would sort itself out if he just ignored it for a while. But, instead, it only seems to have gotten worse.
He really, really wants to kiss Eddie.
At first, he didn't think anything of his staring problem. The world was ending, people were dying, there wasn't time to worry about small things like that.
Although, even after they defeated Vecna, Steve continued to stare. He continued to dismiss it as a normal, totally platonic thing.
As Robin said; "it's almost embarrassing how long it took you to realize".
But, at the time, it had felt so normal. It still does.
Eddie's a good looking guy and Steve has eyes. Of course he's going to look at his best features. His lips just... are the one that draws his focus most of all.
He's sure that no one would blame him, either. With how full Eddie's lips are, how he tends to bite his lower lip when he's stressed, how he pouts so much when he's asking for favors, how he licks his lips whenever he looks Steve over, looking so plump and pink and-
... well. At least he knows he has a problem.
For a while, he thought that it was that simple. He had thought that he was doing a miraculous job of hiding how distracted he always gets, how he gets lost in the daydreams.
"And I know I'm boring," Eddie says, casually. "But-"
"Wait, what?" Steve interrupts, confused. "You're not boring, who said you're boring?"
"C'mon, don't lie to me, man. I know you hate how much I drone on about shit."
"No, I don't? If I didn't like hearing your rants and that then I wouldn't ask about those things."
Eddie huffs, looking always, shoulders hunching as he mutters, "coulda fooled me."
"Eds, where the hell is this coming from?"
"You don't listen to me!" He explodes. "You just- I don't know. Your fucking eyes glaze over half the time- and I know you don't care about this shit but could you at least pretend?"
"Wh- oh. Oh, no, that's... that's not because I think you're boring, I swear."
"Why then?"
"That... I don't know if I should say."
"Right," Eddie mumbles, shaking his head. He gets up, grabbing his jacket off the armchair next to him. "Of course you can't."
"Wait, where are you going?
"Away from you."
"But- I just don't get it right now. Like, I need time to figure some shit out, you know? I don't wanna tell you one thing now and then have to take it back later. You know? It's... complicated."
Eddie pauses, before slowly turning back to look at him.
"You just need time?"
"Yeah. That's it, I swear."
"And then you'll tell me what the fuck this is about?"
"Promise."
But, uncomfortable and uncertain, Eddie keeps his distance after that. He is careful to avoid group hangouts, using Corroded Coffin or Hellfire or his uncle as an excuse when needed.
He even lies about being ill one time.
It only serves to make Steve feel guilty about his own confusion. Especially considering he's no closer to figuring his mind out than he was when they spoke.
He has to get it right though. He's not sure they'd be ok if Steve assumes he wants to kiss Eddie because he wants to date him, only to later realize it's only lust.
Steve's sure that it would sting just as much to assume that it's only lust and later, when it's too late, to realize it's love.
"That sounds like a terrible idea," Lucas points out.
Out of everyone Steve thought would figure out why Steve and Eddie were so tense all of a sudden, he didn't think it would be one of the kids.
"It's the best thing I can do right now," Steve points out.
"No, it's not?" Lucas frowns at him, expression a mix of frustration and disbelief. "The best thing you can do right now is talk to him. Actually tell him why you need time. Tell him that you're worried about disappointing him."
"I'm not gonna dump all this shit on him."
"Jesus, you're worse than Mike."
"Hey-"
"He doesn't know any of this, Steve. He's probably thinking of the worst case scenario. What if he thinks you're going to kick him out the party?"
"I can't do that," Steve can't help but snort. "Even if I wanted to, I don't have that sort of authority over you brats."
"Steve! He doesn't know that! You have to talk to him, soon. He's not going to wait forever when he doesn't even know that he's supposed to be waiting or what he's waiting for!"
"But what if-"
"No."
"What?"
"I have to pick up Erica. I've told you what you should do, so do it."
Lucas makes a shooing gesture at him once he's out the car and, reluctantly, Steve turns the car around.
He heads to the trailer park.
"Hey," Eddie greets, looking him over. "You had enough time now?"
"Sort of," Steve winces. He shifts, glancing behind Eddie. "Is your uncle home? We should... talk."
"He isn't," he steps back, gesturing Steve inside.
Steve steps inside, hovering in the middle. He turns when he hears the door click shut.
"I have a problem," he blurts. "I mean, uh... Robin has always teased that I never know if I love a girl or just want... but that's- I was worried that I was, uh, maybe doing that with you? And I don't want to rush into anything or have this turn out like-"
"Woah, woah, woah. Slow down, big boy, you've already lost me. What does this," he waves his hand between them, "have to do with the girls you date?"
"Everything. Eddie, I'm not ignoring you because you're boring, I can't stop... I can't stop thinking about you."
"What?"
"You've got really nice lips, dude."
Eddie blinks at him, eyebrows disappearing behind his fringe. "What?"
"What do you mean, what? I know you like me, it's why I don't want to rush into anything and then later realize it was just, like, lust. I can't do that to you, Eds."
"So, wait, ok," Eddie waves his hands around, face scrunched and voice high. "Wait. You've known that I like you this whole time?!"
"Yeah? It's fine, I don't mind, it's no big deal."
"It's no- what the fuck, Steve!"
"Was I supposed to tell you that I knew?"
"No- or, yes- but not- ugh!"
"Whatever, ok, that's not the point! I just- I don't want you worrying and thinking this is because of anything bad. I still need time to figure this out."
"To figure out if you want to fuck me or not?"
"Oh, no, that's not a maybe, I definitely do. I just don't know if I might, like, love you too." Steve scratches his jaw, pondering on that while Eddie flails. "Well... I'm pretty sure there's a crush there at least. I don't usually get so distracted by the idea of just kissing that I check out of conversations."
"Fucking hell, Harrington, you're ridiculous."
"What-"
Eddie strides over to him, taking his face in both hands, cutting him off with a kiss.
It's barely more than a press of lips, but Steve feels alight.
It's better than his daydreams could have prepared him for.
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