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teapartyprincess4two · 13 days

Note

Omgg can u do some matt x actress!reader hc?? Love you xx

Actress- M. Sturniolo

pairing: Actress!reader x Boyfriend!Matt

classification: SFW & NSFW head cannons

warnings: some 18+ content, use of y/n, established relationship, slight cursing

summary: head cannons of Matt with an actress girlfriend!

—

☆SFW

Matt thought he knew everything there was to know about fame; the screaming fans, the off guard photos, and the rumors. When he started dating you, though, he was shocked at the intensity of your life.

☆ Every time you’re out in public, you get recognized by a fan or paparazzi, without fail.

☆ You’re waiting in line for your coffee, holding Matt’s hand as you engage in meaningless, light conversation with him.

☆ A loud gasp interrupts you mid sentence, causing you to look in the direction of the noise.

☆ A fan stands there with a hand covering their mouth, eyes blown open in pure shock. “Oh my God! Y/n?! Can I have a picture please?”

☆ You never turn a fan down and soon, when other people realize who you are, it’ll become like a little meet and greet, and Matt becomes the photographer.

☆ When the paparazzi recognizes you, though, you’re not as quick to pose for a picture.

☆ “Matt, don’t look,” you warn, eyes darting between him and the paparazzi snapping pictures of you through the restaurant window.

☆ Matt never listens, he immediately cranes his neck to see what you’re talking about. “I said don’t look!” you squeak, trying to pull his attention back towards you.

☆ “Fuck off,” Matt groans, throwing the paparazzi a middle finger and returning to his meal with you.

☆ Matt is always excited about your newest project, whether you’re playing a main, side, or background character.

☆ You’re getting ready for the premiere of your newest film, Burn It.

☆ “Matt what are you wearing?” you laugh.

☆ “Just supporting my girl,” he replies. He does a small twirl, showing off his outfit. He’s wearing a shirt with the movie poster printed on the front, your face right smack in the middle and the title in bold letters right above it.

☆ “It’s the premiere, you gotta dress up,” you laugh, secretly enjoying the sillyness of it all.

☆ “Fine. But I’m wearing this under my suit,” he replies, exiting the room. After a while, you start hearing the trailer to the movie playing from your room.

☆ He’s equally as supportive of your small roles.

☆ “Hey guys! So Chris, Nick, Y/n, and I are at the movie theater and we’re about to watch Y/n’s new movie The Escape,” Matt says, introducing the theme of their YouTube video.

☆ “Babe, I literally played cashier #3,” you chuckle from behind the camera, holding a big bucket of popcorn.

☆ “I’d watch it if you played a piece of grass,” he replies seriously.

☆ Whenever a new movie of yours releases, you’re usually booked and busy with press tours and interviews.

☆ During these interviews, the initial questions are usually about the movie, but as the interview progresses they become more personal.

☆ “So, Y/n, have you found Mr.Right?” the interviewer asks, fidgeting with the cue cards in front of her.

☆ The question is corny, and you’ve been asked it millions of times before, but you always answer truthfully because you’ve never hidden your relationship status.

☆ “Yup and his name is Matthew Sturniolo,” you reply cheekily, sending the camera a wink. When Matt watches the interview, he feels like a fan who just got a shoutout.

☆ There have been roles that require you to kiss your costars and Matt is never a fan of those.

☆ “Beautiful take!” the director exclaims, clapping his hands loudly in approval. “But let’s get it one more time! Add a little more fire! More passion,” he instructs, snapping his fingers.

☆ Matt joined you on set today, and quite frankly he wishes he didn’t. He hates seeing you kiss another man, even if it is just for show.

☆ Once the director gets the perfect shot, you’re all sent to lunch. “Hi baby,” you hum, walking over to Matt and wrapping your arms around his waist.

☆ You go in for a kiss and he quickly leans in, wanting to claim you in front of everyone.

☆ You are no stranger to rumors and speculations, especially not when a male costar is involved.

☆ “Actress, Y/n trades in her YouTuber for a REAL celebrity,” “Y/n found a new boo?,” “What happened to Matthew Sturniolo and who is the new guy in Y/n’s life?”

☆ Matt can’t stop reading the gossip newsletters and blogs, and even if he knows they’re just rumors he finds himself becoming sad.

☆ “Matt! Where are you?” you shout through the house. You find him on his bed, scrolling relentlessly on his laptop.

☆ “Whatcha doing? Wanna play Mario Kart?” you ask, crawling into bed next to him. Your eyes blow open in shock when you see his screen.

☆ “Matt stop reading that shit!” you exclaim. “I can’t help it,” he groans, running his hands down his face.

☆ You snatch the laptop and drag him out of bed for a night full of Mario Kart and cuddling on the couch.

☆ With a schedule as busy as yours, it can become difficult for you to make time for your personal life.

☆ “I miss you,” Matt whispers through the phone. You’re on a press tour for your newest film and your side of the bed has been empty for 2 months now.

☆ “I miss you too, baby,” you murmur. It hurt to know that you still had another month of this tour left.

☆ “When you come back I’m never letting you go,” his voice is sad, but he knows 3 months isn’t forever.

☆ “I can’t wait,” you giggle, eyes falling on the digital clock across the room. It’s getting late and you have an early interview tomorrow.

☆ “I have to go baby, but I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” Matt’s sad to let you go, it feels like he rarely hears your voice nowadays if it isn’t playing from his TV.

☆ “Okay, beautiful.”

☆ When you’re invited to events or award shows, Matt always joins as your plus one.

☆ “And the nominees are…” the announcer says, listing the names as she reads them from the teleprompter.

☆ Matt squeezes your hand when your name is said, a huge smile spreading across his face.

☆ “The winner for best actress in a leading role is…” the suspense is killing you, but you feel the victory in your soul.

☆ “Y/n!” The entire crowd cheers at the mention of your name and you can’t help but shoot up from your seat in excitement.

☆ “Oh my God, Matt! I won!” You exclaim, pulling him in for a kiss.

☆ You scurry on stage, nervous hands taking your award and preparing for an improvised speech. You end the speech with a special thanks to your friends and family, making sure to specifically thank Matt as you blow him kisses from the stage.

☆ He watches with teary eyes and a huge, dopey smile.

☆NSFW

Matt loves joining you on set and sometimes things can become a little heated between you two.

☆ You hated photo shoots, especially when it involved lingerie and/ or bikinis. Matt, on the other hand, loved photo shoots and he was always quick to join you for them.

☆ “I’m so cold,” you shiver, plopping onto the couch next to Matt. You’re wearing a lingerie set so small that you might as well be naked.

☆ “I know of a few ways to warm you up,” Matt replies, only half joking. He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, earning an excited giggle from you.

☆ “Oh yeah?” you tease, pulling him in for a kiss.

☆ Before you know it, he’s pushed your panties to the side and is fucking you so hard the couch is moving with each thrust.

☆ Although Matt knows your relationship with your male costars is purely professional, he can’t help but become jealous.

☆ “How was work today?” Matt asks, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

☆ “Eh same old same old. We’re stuck on the same scene,” you reply, hoping he won’t ask any further questions.

☆ “Hmm that sucks,” he hums. “What scene is it?”

☆ You gulp nervously, knowing how much Matt is going to hate your answer. “The bathroom sex scene.”

☆ You feel his body stiffen immediately. “It’s just because the set is small and the angles are awkward,” you continue.

☆ “Mhm,” is all he says.

☆ Later, when you’re getting ready for bed and doing your nighttime routine, he pins you against the bathroom counter and fucks you dumb.

☆ “This pussy is mine,” he grunts into your ear, earning a whimper from you.

☆ When you’ve been gone for long press tours, he becomes needy and you two have to resort to phone sex.

☆ “I miss you, baby,” he murmurs. “I miss you too, so much,” you reply.

☆ “No, like, I miss you,” he reiterates, allowing his hand to travel below the waistband of his sweats.

☆ “Touch yourself,” you instruct. “Pretend it’s me.”

☆ You continue to talk him through it, not stopping until you hear his beautiful, breathy moans.

☆ “You did so good,” you praise and he swears his dick gets hard again.

☆ When you finally do return from your long trips, Matt is extremely needy.

☆ He’s waiting for you impatiently at the airport, ready to engulf you in his arms as soon as he sees you.

☆ When you get home, he attacks you with a bunch of kisses until they become more needy and passionate.

☆ His hands wander all over your body, massaging and kneading at your skin like it’s the first time.

☆ You push him back into the bed and straddle his lap, bouncing on his cock until he’s satisfied.

☆ “Oh my God!— Fuck! I love you,” he moans, bucking his hips into you as he climaxes.

☆ “Holy fuck. Maybe I should go on tour more often,” you giggle, peppering kisses along Matt’s face. “Please no,” he mumbles.

—

MASTERLIST

a/n: 📸📸📸 working on Arranged Ch.2, a Johnnie fic & another Matt headcannon!

Also ily2 thank u for the request! xoxox - L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @raysmayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01 @junnniiieee07 @sturniolololover @missriddle03 @k-l-a-w-s @maryx2xx @biggesthat3r @herxyzblog @getosuckers @sturnioloarchive @tillies33ssss @fratbrochrisgf @aurizp @riasturns @sturnikitty @sturnrc @sturtriple16 @sillyfreakfanparty @imwetforyourmom @mattslovelygf @stingerayyy2 @cartiiwannagotoplutoo @mimi-luvzyu @somegirlfromasgard @l0vergrlll @pepsicolapussy333 @unbruisable

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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year

Text

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR FIVE

in which eddie munson and you absolutely hate each other's guts. what happens when your friends make a bet that you can't spend more than twenty four hours consecutively together?

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, eventual smut, upside down does not exist, harassment/cat calling, minors dni

→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader

→ wc: 6.1k+

→ a/n: shout out to @abibliophobiaa for helping me figure this chapter out lol.

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

5:00 ───ㅇ─────────────── 24:00

HOUR FIVE - 8:00 PM

Civility. What a fragile construct.

You and Eddie are hyper aware of its presence as the minutes pass. It’s a glass wall between the two of you, offering false security and fragile mediation. When he brings up dinner, and there’s no sign of agreement any time soon as he wants the opposite of every suggestion you make, you catch your reflection in it, reminding yourself to carefully think over your words. Every insult manages to catch in your throat, to simmer until softened to something appropriate. And you know he’s doing exactly the same thing as his pauses begin to drag out between replies, as you lose count of the number of times he’s opened his mouth only to immediately snap it shut.

It works, though. Even with the weight of the agreement in the room, the wall takes the pressure in stride. There’s not a single crack emerging.

Eddie still sits on the couch with you, this time the TV is turned on to some cable show rerun that has turned into background noise for the two of you.

He never moved back to the opposite end of the couch. One wrong move, and your thigh could easily press into his, sink into the warmth that radiates from him. It’s all you can think about as he is trying to convince you that the Lord of the Rings books are worth reading, especially if you enjoy the movies.

If it were any other day, you wouldn’t have noticed when he cuts off suddenly. You would have stopped listening long ago. Which is a shame, not that you’d admit it, because he actually had interesting points to make.

“What?” you scrunch your nose as his stare hardens across the room, at something by the TV. Suddenly, the almost-glare blooms into delight, and you can’t breathe.

“We’ve managed to be civil for a whole forty-five minutes.”

You finally follow his gaze and realize he had been looking at the small cable box, blinking blue numbers on the front screen reading the time.

“Oh,” you say softly, fighting a grin to match his current one, “Yeah, we have been. That’s gotta be a new record.”

It hadn’t been easy, but it had been doable. Maybe the hours could continue to be less doable.

“You know, I thought you would have told me to shut up about my nerd shit by now,” he muses, bringing a hand up to carefully rub at his stubbled chin, legs spreading a bit further as he remains reclined into the cushions beside you.

His knee brushes yours. You still haven’t found your breath that had escaped you from watching his eyes light up in realization.

“I came pretty close,” you tease and nearly lean in, nearly pressing your knee harder into his.

It was becoming too easy to act this way with him. You try to think of a time you’d ever given this such room to breathe. But you draw nothing but blanks, save for the first night you’d met Eddie. A night that had been blossoming with buds of hopefulness and blind optimism that had been cursed to die on the vine.

Although, maybe not all of them had died. There might have been a few dwindlers, and they might have found themselves finally watered after such a harsh winter between the two of you in the revelation of fragile civility these last forty-five minutes.

“Was it when I went on my ten minute rant about how cool it would have been to bring up werewolves in the movies? Or was it my passion for Samwise being a singer?” your head falls back in gentle laughter, closing your eyes for a second. He goes as far as to nudge your shoulder with his own, “Come on, I’m serious! I do hear myself sometimes, you know. I know when I’m being Lord of the Dorks over here.”

Your shoulder burns where he had bumped it. Not from pain.

Your eyes are still closed as you shake your head, “No, no. I think I actually agree with the werewolves, but I’m still on the fence about turning the movies into musicals.”

When you finally do open your eyes, head rolling to face him and press your cheek atop your burning shoulder, you find him staring at you. Which would have been fine, no big deal, if he was still grinning vibrantly.

He’s looking at you with an unfamiliar emotion, an emotion you’d not only never seen him look at you with, but any of your shared friends. It’s almost as if he’s no longer in the room with you.

You’re immediately worried you’ve offended him, “Oh, shit. Are you into musicals? I’m sorry, I tried to get into them, but I just-”

“I am,” the emotion drains from his eyes as he snaps back to reality, “I… But I mean, I get it. Not everyone is into musicals, I was just a theater kid.”

“A theater kid?” your worry is long gone as you sit up, looking at him excitedly, “No way. I would have never guessed that you, Eddie Munson, the most dramatic person I know, were a theater kid.”

He looks down bashfully, and his curls form a curtain around his face. His dimples are effectively hidden as he shyly smiles, and you’re kind of glad for it. “Shut up. Buckley’s more dramatic than I am. Have you ever heard her go off on one of her rabies rambles?”

“Of course. She was also a theater kid.”

“Oh, trust me - I know. We’ve bonded.”

The conversation dwindles, but the ghost of the dimples don’t. He tucks some of the stray strands of the curtain behind his ear, and you start to regret ever noticing the damn things.

“We never decided on dinner, you know,” you blurt out and change the topic, because you desperately need something to distract you right now. You’re starting to believe you might prefer arguing with him to whatever storm was building beneath the surface of civility.

“Oh, shit,” he gasps, turning to look at the clock again, “You’re right.”

Never thought I’d hear you saying that to me of all people, you bite back from saying.

“Most places are closing soon,” he murmurs, more to himself than you, surely thinking back on the way you couldn’t come to an agreement earlier. If you dived back into that, you’d probably spend the rest of the night bickering. But then he lights up again, just as he had when he’d realized your record-breaking streak of civility, “Say, you like bar food?”

—

“Eddie, I really can’t afford overpriced bar food!”

“And I already said I’d pay for you.”

“What about our photo proof? We were supposed to send it ten minutes ago.”

“You texted them mentioning we’ll be a little late with it, right?”

“Yeah, but-”

“Then it’s fine.”

The entire ten minute walk from Eddie’s apartment to what he claims is his favorite bar in town had been filled with the endless bickering, still managing to be lighthearted enough to not cause any cracks in the civility.

He’d chastised you about making excuses, and you hated him, because he was right. Every issue you’d brought up about going to the bar with him had been easily solved with one of his solutions. You were grasping for straws at this point.

Because you were nervous. Nervous that civility wouldn’t hold up in public, nervous that if alcohol was added to the equation that tongues would get too loose.

But none of it mattered. When Eddie initially suggested going to the bar, he’d caught your smile at the idea and realized you two had finally found common ground. He was now a man on a mission.

“I really don’t want you paying for me,” you huff as he holds the door to the bar open for you, motioning for you to enter before him.

“It’s really not that expensive, you can pay me back later if you really want,” he waves off, “Buy me a drink or something while we’re here, even.”

You’d always witnessed Eddie being generous with your friends, always known that he was altruistic as he’d offer to pay for people. Half the time, he never made them pay him back. All he cared about when with friends was everyone having fun. And you’d never been on the receiving end of that — not until tonight.

He bumps into you when you stop just a few steps into the bar’s entry, glancing around the small room. It wasn’t much, two pool tables set up on the far end of the building, a full bar taking up most of the space inside. You could see some sort of jukebox sitting unplugged in the corner and several booths were occupied with patrons already.

It was cozy. It wasn’t going out of its way to impress anyone, and it’s probably why you’d never come inside before. From the outside, you hardly were able to decipher it was a bar, especially in the darkness of the night.

“Sorry,” you turn to apologize, his hands feather light on your biceps to make sure you didn’t stumble from the force of his impact.

He waves it off just as he had waved off your concerns of him picking up the bill for the night, focusing instead on your reaction, “You like it?”

“It’s… nice,” you offer with a shrug as he guides you to the bar. There definitely weren’t any open tables; it was a Saturday night, and even if the place was capable of giving off quaint vibes, there was an abundance of college students who had the same idea as you and him had.

None of them were locked into the same agreement as you two, though. You were sure of it.

The bartender greets Eddie by name, beaming as he promises he’ll come over with his usual soon.

“Wow,” you laugh, lifting yourself onto a stool beside him, “You weren’t kidding about it being your usual hangout.”

“I swear I’m not an alcoholic or anything,” he rushes out, “I just… I dunno. Like you said, it’s nice here.”

You couldn’t believe it. If you dared to look into his words further, you’d swear that Eddie was trying to avoid tarnishing your view of him. He’d never cared about that before.

“I wouldn’t judge you,” you say once the two of you have settled into your seats. Stools were never going to be more comfortable than a booth, but it would do for the next hour. “If you were an alcoholic. I mean, we’re college students. Kind of part of the whole gig,” He looks at you and quirks an eyebrow as he grabs one of the menus from the sticky wood surface in front of you two, “Every college student can be promised three things: unimaginable debt for a stupid piece of paper, the ability to run off of far less sleep than anyone ever should, and a terrible reliance on alcohol.”

He rolls his eyes and mumbles, “You’re funny.”

The surviving buds on the vine nearly prepare to bloom, just about ready to untuck themselves from your chest and press against the glass wall of civility.

“Say it again.”

“What?”

“That I’m funny,” your biting grin is infectious, “Tell me again and stroke my ego, big boy.”

He flushes pink on the apples of his cheeks, bright and furious even under the dim lighting of the bar, “Oh, fuck off. I’m never complimenting you again.”

Your newest enemies, those fucking dimples, and the way the blush spreads as he glances down at the menu suddenly become too much. The combination has the ability to choke you, to possibly make your heart stop, if it isn’t for the bartender finally interrupting the moment.

“Hey there, Eds,” the man not much older than the two of you greets, looking at you with unbridled curiosity, “And… lady friend of Eds.”

You don’t know why, but you tell the stranger your name. Sweet and low, soft spoken compared to the way you had just been blatantly teasing the boy at your side.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he chimes with the type of charisma you’re familiar with when it comes to the food industry. You didn’t make tips if you weren’t kind, if you weren’t borderline flirting with nearly every customer by overflowing with friendliness and compliments, “So, I’ve got your regular here,” he places a glass in front of Eddie, something dark with a few sparse bubbles, “What can I get for you, though?” he turns to you.

You glance over at the menu Eddie holds, and he shifts it so you can see it better. But as your eyes glance over the drink options, nothing grabs your attention.

“Full bar, right?” you feel a bit foolish as the man waves behind at the large wall filled with bottles of a variety of alcohol. Duh. “You know how to make an amaretto sour?”

The man grins widely, nodding enthusiastically before turning to Eddie, “She’s got good taste. I’ll be right back with it for you, hun.”

The moment the bartender leaves, Eddie is leaning in closer to you, mimicking you in a falsetto, “Full bar, right?”

His cologne is nice. Something spicy, almost musky. Fitting for him.

You don’t hesitate to shove his shoulder, “Shut up. We’re supposed to be civil, remember?”

“Ah, I see,” his eyes mischievously glint, enjoying this bout of satirizing far too much, “You can tease me, but I can’t tease you. That sound about right?”

“Exactly,” you sigh jokingly, unable to look at him, already knowing the smile he’s wearing, “Sorry you didn’t get the first memo.”

He finally, finally, stops leaning in towards you, and carries the scent of his cologne with him. You decide to lock away that detail of him into the same eternal prison of your brain with the dimples. Another thing about him you need to forget after the twenty fours end.

“My bad, sweetheart. At least I’m up to date now.”

You ignore the vine as it tightens at the casual use of the nickname again. There’s no need to dive deeper into that reaction.

“What’s his name?” you finally look at him, eyes catching on the slope of his nose and sharp jaw in the smoky atmosphere.

“Who? The bartender?” you nod, and he takes a sip of his drink, “Frank. He’s really nice, looks a lot younger than he is, lucky bastard.”

“What, you don’t think you’ll age so gracefully?” you’re back to teasing Eddie, because God, is it easy. It’s a perfect medium between the two of you. Still biting, still a little mean, but not harmful. It’s innocent and refreshing, breathing a new wave of novelty into your relationship, wherever it may currently stand.

“Who’s not aging gracefully?” The bartender, Frank, questions as he places your amaretto sour in front of you. You mutter your thanks, “Because if you’re talking about Eds here, you’re right. Think this guy has aged ten years in the six months I’ve known him.”

Six months? You don’t know why you’re so shocked, but part of you had just figured he’d been coming to this bar for as long as he’d lived in his apartment. Which, to be fair, you didn’t know how long he’d occupied that space, either. It had to have been at least a year. There’s been no mention of him moving the entire time you’ve known him.

“I have not,” Eddie defends himself, hand gripping his drink.

“Have too,” Frank ends the argument there, not giving Eddie a chance for rebuttal before he lets his gaze go back and forth between the two of you, “So, any food tonight, or just drinks?”

“Could we actually get an order of garlic parmesan fries?” Eddie is surprisingly polite, and looks at you after he’s placed the order, “If that’s okay with you?”

You blink, taken back by his consideration, “Um, yeah. That sounds good.”

Frank nods, “Fries. Got it. Anything else?”

Eddie is still looking at you, subtly moving the menu closer to you, as if urging you to help yourself. You pick up the laminated paper, and your knuckles brush against his before you’re glancing over your options.

You curse yourself as your hands shake. You’re not nervous – why are they shaking?

“Are your mozzarella sticks any good?” you finally ask, peering up at Frank.

“They’re excellent. Also, not to brag, but our marinara is the best in town. I swear it.”

You look to Eddie, as if seeking out permission, and he nods ever so slightly, “I’ll take your word for it. One order of those, please.”

“Of course. One order of fries and one order of mozzarella sticks coming right up.”

With that, Frank leaves you and Eddie on your own again, somehow feeling secluded and alone even on the edges of the bustling room. It’s as if there’s a bubble around the two of you, unbreachable by the strangers that surround you.

Your phone buzzing in your pocket catches your attention, just as it had done numerous times thus far this night, and you pull it out to see two new notifications from Steve.

STEVE-O: photo.

STEVE-O: now.

You don’t realize Eddie was reading the messages over your shoulder until he suddenly chuckles, “Jesus, when did Harrington become so demanding?”

“He’s always been this way,” you mutter as you quickly open your phone, the camera app already being opened from your previously provided evidence, “Consider yourself lucky to not be in the groupchat. His attitude grows tenfold through texts.”

“Clearly.”

You turn the phone awkwardly in one hand, choosing to go for a wider shot that captures the bar setting behind you and Eddie. He grabs his glass, holding up his drink as if he’s cheersing the camera.

You’re about to take the photo, when Eddie suddenly sighs, “Oh, come on. Don’t leave me hanging.”

His free hand nudges your own drink into your hand, and you take it without complaint.

You both hold up your glasses, forcing mimicry of annoyed expressions directed at the camera and not each other.

The moment the click of the photo being taken is lost into the atmosphere of the bar, chatter of nearby strangers and clinking of beer bottles together, Eddie’s attention is fully on you.

“To civility,” he says, moving his glass in a grandiose gesture towards yours.

You take a second before you register it. You’re too busy mapping out his face beyond the dimples, beyond the wild curls that catch the bar lighting just right, all the way up to the hiding freckle beneath his right eye and the cotton candy shade of pink of his pursed lips. It’s as if you’re pressing your cheeks into the wall of civility between you and letting the glass fog over with your breath. As if you’re just now seeing Eddie for the first time, no cloak of hatred or distortion of annoyance to keep you from his memorizing features.

You shake your head, try to physically rid your head of the uncharted thoughts before you clink your glass to his, “To civility.”

—

Maybe civility isn’t such a fragile concept. Maybe, just maybe, it’s a reasonable foundation for yours and Eddie’s night.

Over garlic parmesan fries and mozzarella sticks, and several refills of your amaretto sour and his Jack & Coke (you’d found that out when you’d ask to try his drink, and had grimaced at the harsh whiskey), you two practice the act of it almost flawlessly.

Eddie tells you a bit more about the first time he’d wandered across this bar, how he’d been kicked out of a different one earlier that night and simply wasn’t ready to go home yet. Somehow, after the story, once he’s shed his leather jacket to drape over the back of his seat and you find yourself angling your body towards him more fully, the attention focuses more on you meeting the group.

You both have to lean in closer to each other, what at the beginning of the night should have been too close for comfort, as the bar grows busier. You tell him about freshman year of college, that wretched 8 AM math class that’s only redeeming quality was bringing you and Steve together. He was better at math than you, or at least taking notes on the subject. Somehow, the two of you had ended up in an agreement of being ‘study buddies’, as Steve had nicknamed it. Two years later, after several more deliberately shared classes, Steve had finally decided to introduce the girl he’d been ditching their Thursday movie nights for to the gang. It had started with Robin – she’d been in a Psychology class with you and Steve – and all the pieces fell together from there.

“I still can’t believe you and Harrington never… you know….” Eddie trails off and downs the last of his third Jack & Coke. When Frank motions from across the bar if he’d like a refill, Eddie shakes his head and covers the top of his glass with his wide palm.

His rings glinted in the low lights, and your stomach did flips. You blame it on the fourth amaretto sour you were nursing.

“Oh, trust me,” the alcohol has your lips moving more loosely, giggling between your words, “We definitely thought about it. Even got wine drunk one night our sophomore year and tried it.”

“What?” Eddie exclaims, leaning so far into your space now that his curls brush your bare shoulders, “No way. No fucking way.”

“Yes way!” your face grows pink, more from laughter than embarrassment, “It was awful! I mean, in our defense we were both drunk, but still. I just…” you sigh out, and lean back in your stool without even noticing that Eddie has his arm draped over the back of it, “We both realized we were way better off friends. I’m a better wing-woman for him now than some fling.”

“Don’t let Robin hear you,” Eddie chuckles, popping a fry in his mouth before he relaxes back as well. His arm is still on the back of your chair. “You know, he did talk you up a lot before he introduced you to everyone.”

“Yeah?” you raise an eyebrow.

Eddie’s brows furrow as he nods viciously, “Oh, God, yeah. Had us all thinking he was just in denial about having a thing for you.”

“Well, that’s embarrassing.”

“Nah. Only good things. Besides, once Robin met you? It was game over,” if you had been watching Eddie more carefully, you would have seen that unrecognizable emotion crossing his face once more, glazing over his eyes rather than the alcohol he’d consumed, “They really do love you, y’know?”

You don’t know. Which is a shame. Because on your good days, you’d usually tell yourself that they do enjoy your company, that you do fit into the group. But doubt had an easy job of having its way with you when Eddie existed, when Eddie seemingly loathes you.

Your silence answers his rhetorical-turned-serious question, and he’s suddenly leaning forward to catch your gaze, “You do know that… right?”

Your shrug makes his arm fall off of your chair, not intentionally so. It had simply gotten closer to your shoulders with the time passing, and the movement makes it fall limply to his side.

“Sweetheart, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Eddie groans in what you’re realizing is his usual, playful demeanor, “The entire group loves you so much, it’s irritating. Never shut up about you, inviting you to plans, all that shit.”

“You don’t,” your voice is a whisper.

It’s the first time that either of you had so much as knocked on the glass wall of civility. A gentle tap of your knuckles against an easily forgotten barrier, but a knock nonetheless.

“What?” Eddie squints, and he’s leaning in closer, and you suddenly feel suffocated again. His cologne is in your nose, his faded dimples are in your vision. You could count his eyelashes if you spared him a quick glance.

But you don’t. You can’t bear to look at him, because the entire moment is becoming far too vulnerable.

You clear your throat, “The entire group, except you, loves me. Which, I mean, I get. Not everyone is going to like me, and I’ve sort of been a bitch to you-”

“You haven’t-”

“-and honestly, I’ve really played into the fact that I annoy you so much this entire time. You hate me, I hate you-”

“I don’t-”

“-it’s fine.”

Despite Eddie’s attempted interruptions, you manage to finish your speech, chest heaving by the end of it. He’s stunned, mouth opening and closing multiple times before he finally seemingly collects his thoughts.

“Look, I know I’ve been an asshole, but I don’t really-” he starts, but you’re quick to cut him off. Unlike when he’d interjected and you’d ignored him, he lets you speak.

“Eddie, you said you’d celebrate my death,” you smile sheepishly at him, and you can feel that glass barrier shaking. Bringing up something awful, something terribly mean from mere hours ago isn’t a gentle knock on glass. It’s a slapping of a palm, a dare for cracks to start appearing.

His entire expression falls, “I… That was stupid of me to say.”

“It was,” you agree, because you’re not sure what else you could say, “It was, but I get it. The feeling’s mutual and all, right?”

Eddie is quiet. You almost miss his voice, even with all the other tones of strangers bouncing around you.

“Can I ask why you hate me, though?” you try to keep your tone as light as possible, to not let this moment get any worse. You try to keep your fists from pounding on the glass of civility, “We’ve never really talked about it before. I know you have your reasons – I’ve got mine.”

His jaw clenches. You can physically see his thought process. He’s probably got a million reasons, and right now, he’s just thumbing through them, trying to find the one that won’t break your agreement of being kinder to each other.

“You…” he starts, and the wheels are still turning in his head, eyes looking everywhere but you now, “I don’t know, you just seemed… s-selfish.”

You almost don’t see it – the first crack in the glass, the first sign of civility crumbling.

“Selfish?” you echo back, crestfallen, nearly wounded. You attempt to hide it, to not show him that his words affect you, because you’d asked for this. You’d asked the damn question, fueled by liquid confidence, and he was giving it to you.

“Yeah, just… Full of yourself?” his voice jumps up an octave at the end of his sentence, as if he’s unsure, as if he’s asking you if that’s the right answer. The crack spreads, and begins to distort your vision of him, “I knew you had been sort of popular in high school, and you carried yourself like those popular kids I knew. And… and…”

His eyes finally stop fleeting from yours. He meets your gaze, and you know you weren’t equipped with strong enough armor to hide the wounds he was inflicting. He could see the bruises as his hits landed, accidental or not.

“I just thought you were everything I’d always hated. So I hated you.”

The crack splinters, and hairline fractures split the image of Eddie into unrecognizable pieces. The boy you’d grown accustomed to thus far tonight, the boy you’d grown comfortable with, is gone in your eyes.

“So,” your voice is tight, and you know you won’t be able to keep up with eye contact, not when it all starts to sting so ardently, “You judged a book by its cover, and decided I’m a royal, spoiled bitch. Isn’t that exactly what everyone in high school did to you?”

“How did you-”

“Steve told me. He told me about your reputation, about being a freak, everything.”

The splintering has spread to his side of the glass, clearly, as you say the word freak.

“Is that why you hate me?” his tone hardens, gaze no longer sympathetic. Not that you see the change. “You decided I’m a freak, too?”

“I never said that-”

“No? Sorry, I thought we were just putting words into each other’s mouths.”

The bar is busy, and you wonder if the bystanders can hear the wall of civility finally shattering. You have no idea if any of the shards hit Eddie, but you can feel them dig into your chest, your arms, your stomach. Shards that remind you of what could have been.

Shards that remind you of what was lost because Eddie Munson had decided he hated you long before he met you.

“You’re the one who hated me before you even met me,” you scoff cruelly.

“I never fucking said that-”

“You did, though,” you counter, crossing your arms over your chest protectively, “You said so yourself. Steve mentioned I was sort of popular in high school, and you just- you just decided to shove me into a box of what I would be. Some girl you didn’t even know.”

“Well, pardon me,” he snaps, “I didn’t exactly have the best experience with the popular kids, but you should know that since Stevie told you everything, right? Hell, he probably mentioned it over pillowtalk for your one night together, right?”

You were an idiot. You had let yourself forget that Eddie is not normally kind, that Eddie is not normally so trustworthy as he’s been the last hour. You’d let your guard down, and now, the ramifications were staring you down right between the eyes.

“Fuck you,” you angrily spit, moving to stand up, “I told you that in fucking confidence, because I thought… I thought…”

“You thought..?” he presses as you turn to face him, shorter than him now that you weren’t both sitting in the stools, “What? That we were friends?”

Yes. Because for a moment, I thought we were becoming friends, like a fucking idiot.

His chest is heaving now. Just as yours had during your rant to him, your attempt to soothe over the fact that he hated you. You regret it. You regret ever agreeing on civility.

“My mistake,” you choke out, “It won’t happen again.”

You’ve caught him off guard. Maybe he had been prepared for you to deny it, maybe he had thought you’d laugh in his face at the idea of you considering him a friend.

But you hadn’t. You’d just confirmed to him that you did have that moment of weakness. You’d admitted that yes, for a vulnerable moment, you’d considered him a friend. A confidant over sweetened alcohol, cheap bar food, and trust.

He’d had your trust, and he’d now lost it.

You don’t wait around to see how he takes the revelation. You’re already storming out the front door of the bar, grateful you can still remember which direction his apartment is in. You don’t care if he’s following you – part of you hopes he isn’t.

Until part of you is. Because as you step out into the night, a few shadows against the brickwall are brought to life by your appearance.

“Hey there,” one of the men call out, “What’s a girl like you doing all alone?”

You don’t process that the man is talking to you at first, head down and anger flaming.

“Hey, you!” There’s a sudden hand on your shoulder, making you jolt your head up, “Yeah, you. What’s a pretty girl like you doing out here alone?”

His grin is sinister. Sickly sweet in faux honey, blonde hair swept back and breath reeking of rum.

“M-Me?” you stutter, trying to take a careful step back, to get his hand off your shoulder.

Your heart is no longer racing with fury. It’s pounding with fear.

“Does it look like there’s any other pretty girls out here?” he slurs with a chuckle, glancing around to his friends.

You look around as well, and realize with sinking trepidation that there’s no one else out here, “No. But, uh, I’m good. I.. I’m not… interest-”

“What’s your name, honey?” he leans in closer, and you can’t help but lean back. It makes his grip on you tighten. “I’m Jason. Are you all alone? Because, I’ll be honest, I’ve been striking out all night and would love to take a pretty thing like you home with me.”

“I’m g-good,” you start again, “Please, uh, please let go-” you're shaking your head, trying harder to pull off his hand.

“Oh, come on. It’d be fu-”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. One second, he’s pressing too close to you, holding you tight enough to leave bruises as you’re cringing and suddenly squirming to get out of his grasp, and the next – he’s gone.

“Get the fuck off her.”

You’re still too shocked to move, glancing down at your shoulder that’s now red and sore. But you know that voice.

It’s the voice that had just told you he’d hated you before he ever met you.

“Hey, man!” The intruder, Jason, protests as he’s shoved harshly against the wall. “What the fuck?”

You finally look to see what’s happening properly. Eddie isn’t facing you, his broad back and shoulders appearing menacing in the shadows as Jason sinks further back against the wall.

“She’s not going home with you.”

His tone doesn’t waver, even as you catch the clench of his shaking fist.

Jason catches sight of you, still standing where he left you, and the nauseating smirk returns, “I think we should let her decide, shouldn’t we?”

You see Eddie move to raise his fist, and your body finally unfreezes. In an instant, you’re at his side, and your hand wraps around his bicep to prevent the punch he was surely pretending to send Jason’s way.

“Eddie,” you plead, tugging him backwards, anger momentarily forgotten. He doesn’t look at you, but he immediately takes the arm in your hold and wraps it around you in order to tuck you further behind his body, away from the wide, drunken stares of these men. You hate it, but it makes you feel safer, even as you grip the leather of his jacket’s sleeve tighter, “Eddie, please, let’s go.”

“So she’s spoken for?” Jason pushes his luck, still slurring his words.

Eddie’s fist clenches again. Without thinking, your hand not on his arm reaches down to grasp his fist.

Your heart's still pounding. You’re still trembling, shaken up terribly – he can feel it.

“Please,” you beg one last time.

This time, he listens. The fist unravels, and in an instant, he has your hand locked in his, palm against sweaty palm.

He’s not as rough as you expect him to be as he’s dragging you away from the scene. You can still hear the cat-calls, the taunts, of the drunken men, but it only spurs Eddie to walk faster. You struggle to keep up, his long legs carrying him more easily through the long strides, but you don’t protest, eager to get away from whatever the fuck just happens.

Neither of you say another word during the walk to his apartment. Your shoulder continues to ache, your hand stays tangled in his, and you can still feel the prick of civility’s shards in your chest, lodged dangerously close to your vines and closing buds of hopefulness.

Civility. What a broken construct.

–

BIRDIE: they are literally on a date right now.

JOHNNY: I’m not doing this right now.

DINGUS: god, i hate to admit it, but rob’s right. are they at a bar right now? am i seeing that right?

BIRDIE: yes!! i called it!! i fucking called it!!! god, only five hours in and they’re already on their first date.

ARGYLE 😎: love is in the air my dudes

JOHNNY: @ARGYLE 😎Don’t encourage them.

NANCE: It is NOT their first date. Eddie wouldn’t take her to a bar for their first date.

BIRDIE: hold on, how would you know what eddie would do for their first date?

NANCE: He’d probably take her somewhere nice, like whatever this town’s equivalent of Enzo’s.

DINGUS: when the fuck has eddie talked about where he’d take her for the first date?

BIRDIE: nancy what the fuck do you know?

JOHNNY: Lol

NANCE: Forget I said anything.

BIRDIE: nancy, please explain yourself immediately.

DINGUS: nance? when? the? fuck?

NANCE: He was drunk, he probably didn’t mean it.

BIRDIE: NANCY.

JOHNNY: Now you’ve done it.

DINGUS: NANCY.

ARGYLE 😎: does this mean what i think it means?

BIRDIE: NANCE.

JOHNNY: Just couldn’t keep your mouth shut, could you?

NANCE has left the groupchat.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #twenty four hours

2K notes · View notes

prettymrswright · 9 months

Text

private project

pairing: shuri x black!fem!scientist reader

content: fluff, smut!(18+), m@sturb@ting, s3x!toy, oral (both receiving), strap, f!ngering, crying, begging, dirty talking, slight humiliation, praising, pillow!princess/bratty reader, soft-dom!shuri, reader is a shy, timid, obedient, madly in love, (DOWN BAD), pillow princess, shuri is an oblivious brainiac.

background: for the couple years you had been working for the scientist, you’ve been crazy about her. you were such a shy and nervous wreck, that you didn’t know what to do about it. in all your desire, you decide to make a personal ‘project’ in the very lab you were taught everything you know, by her. although you intended for it to be forever a secret, it didn’t quite pan out that way. an: wheeeew, baby!! i thought about this this morning, half sleep, and ideas was just flowing, idk why my whore brain was on this morning but let's just roll with it! as usual, i hope this satisfied y'all lul slutty hearts & taglist sign up pinned to my page! @dejaonline @inmyheadimobsessed @vampzxi @venusdraco @shuriszn @shurislover @vixentheplanet @pinkwright @saintwrld @abenomeiiii @ventingfanfics @msplayas @naomis-daydream @sapphicvqmpires @tishsrealwife @6-noir @pocketsizedpanther ꨄ︎

2 years. You had officially been working for the Royal Udaku family for 2 years, and never would it get old for you. Since you were a young girl, you dreamt of making powerful creations and using them to change the world around you for the greater good. It was no doubt, you had a burning passion for science, not to mention, you were damn good at it. But you also had to admit, it felt good to be in a space among other legends, utilizing those skills right next to them. Especially Shuri. Shuri Udaku was a sight to see; in more ways than one. She had such an astute-being of a brain, and beautiful heart to match. She could arrive at any and every solution for every situation and apply it with ease. And although she may think she's such a tough-guy, she had the most caring heart. She treated all of her team as family, just as she would her mom or her brother. You were always taken care of. And as one side of you was admiring under terms of wanting to uphold such a stellar stature yourself, the other one was admiring in desperate need to be desired by someone of that same stature. No one got Shuri how you did. There was nothing she could hide from you. Your burning desire for her and her love and affection made the most meniscal details unavoidable. She hated that you could read her that way. But you cared so deeply for her. All you wanted was for her to be happy. And for her to be happy, with you.

Out of all the ways you could read her, romantic aspects were a code you just could not crack. You weren't even sure what she was into, or better yet, who. She was so buried in work and royalty duties, any emotional cards she had were held very close to her chest.

Each day that went by, watching her work sun up to sun down in her lab, you yearned to know how her hand would feel intertwined with yours. How her lips would feel, leaving deep, soft kisses on your lips, on your neck, down your chest. How her fingers would slowly trace across your hips, the circumference between the inside of your thighs, and eventually plunge deep inside your canal, pumping your g-spot until y-- "Y/N." Shuri called out to you, breaking you out of your fantasy of a trance. You quickly jumped up, straightening yourself out, and lifting your chin from your palm, where it previously rested. "Yes, princess?" You responded, eagerly awaiting whatever she had to ask or tell. "Have you made any progress on finishing Project-3280?" She walked up to you, looking down at the paper work she had in her hand, before looking up, scanning your facial expression for an answer. "Yes, princess." You answered proudly, curing her wonder. She lowly chuckled aloud, causing you to furrow your eyebrows, curious as to what about what you said was amusing. "Do you say anything other than 'Yes, princess'?" Your lashes fluttered as you scanned for the words to say, ultimately standing blankly, no words of response to be found.

"I told you, you work with me, not for me. You can speak regularly with me." She says in sincerity, holding the eye-contact, once again making your knees buckle at her commanding nature. "Yes, Pri--" You began before catching yourself in the very correction you were just given. Shuri raised her eyebrows, catching you as well, non-verbally. "I-I mean, okay, Shuri, yea. Got it." She chuckled again once more to herself before we walking off the clean the board she had previously been doing all her calculations on. You sat back on the high chair that stood behind the lab table you were at, scanning her from afar. Your eyes followed her slim frame from bottom-to-top, tracing the tattoo that resided up the side of her neck, to her sharp jaw, and her side profile. You bleakly counted the strands of hair on her head from the undercut, all the way to the curly top. You watched her slim, veined hands as they traveled quickly across the board in a wax-on, wax-off motion. You took note of how firmly they gripped the cloth right in their middle. You couldn't help but to trail your thoughts off into those hands gripping you that way. "Oh, fuck," You breathe out in a whisper, crossing your legs and nibbling at the end of your grey BIC pen. You continued to squirm in your seat as you watched sweat drip down the back of her neck, disappearing into the cloth of her lab coat. "Is it hot in here, to you, Y/N?" She asked, looking back at you. You shrugged your shoulders, quickly flicking your hands up at your side in a fake 'unsure' motion. It was definitely hot in there, but that was purposeful on your part. You had turned off the AC, knowing you'd be in here alone with her. It was just so captivating seeing her move and work so diligently that she would perspire and drip everywhere. You’d love to see those droplets falling from the hard work of another activity, with your assistance of course.

She wiped her forehead dry before pulling up her sleeves and walking back over to you. She was always finding ways to show and expose her hands and her arms. Almost like she knew those very things turned you on. You yourself would like to show her something.

“Okay, I’m ready. Show me what you got,” she rubs her hands together, in eagerness and excitement.

You almost choked on the saliva resting on the back of your tongue.

“I’m sorry?” You ask, taken aback by her statement, not sure if you heard what you thought you did.

“The project,” She pointed down towards the file folders you had right in front of you.

“Oh,” You reply, feeling silly for thinking she was referring to anything else.

You hand her the files, and she flips through them, carefully and attentively reading through each diagram.

You could feel your violently pulsating heart drop into your stomach and join the band of disruption that was previously keeping a concert in there. You had worked fairly hard on this project, and you wanted it to be perfect. More than anything you wanted her to approve. Your nerves began to worsen as you couldn’t pinpoint a reaction of satisfaction nor disapproval.

After what felt like an eternity of silence and confusion, Shuri finally rested the papers on the table and looked at you, a smile slowly creeping onto her face.

“I have to say, I am very impressed, Miss Y/N.” The band of disruption in your stomach finally dismembered, and was replaced with a symphony of butterflies. “Your technique is flawless. It must’ve took you ages to decode this.”

You tried to conceal your proud smile and your flushed cheeks, and failed terribly.

“Only took me 3 days.”

Shuri eyes widened, in an even more impressed state. “You’re joking, surely. It took me 3 weeks during my junior program! Let me find out you’re trying to replace me.” She teased, nudging your shoulder, slightly pushing.

You bit down on your teeth, flexing your jaw, fighting the moan that almost escaped from the sudden contact.

“You could never be replaced, Princess.” You say, more directly that you would’ve liked to. Your faces were separated merely by a foot. The eye-contact between the two of you lingered, until broken by a gaze at your lips, given by Shuri. She glanced back up at your eyes before giving you a smile, sending you a wink, and getting up to finally make her exit out of the room.

Your rivers were flowing so potently, you could slip right out of your chair. She was always so reassuring. Attentive. Gentle. With every word and every action towards you. You wanted to believe she moved that way with you intentionally, simultaneously trying not succumb to injuries of your delusion. With that note, you decided to go back to your quarter and wash off the day. You'd been working exceptionally hard all week, especially today, being that you woke particularly early to put your last finishes touches on the project. It didn't need anymore altering, honestly, but the pressures of wanting to impress the Princess had definitely took over. As you approach your room, you place your palm on the panel beside your door, allowing it to scan your prints for access. You waste no time kicking off your shoes and peeling your clothes off your body, stockings, lab coat and all, letting it drop to the ground and immediately heading to the bathroom to start a hot shower.

ꨄ︎

You lay your towel across you bed and lay on it, not yet ready to have your freedom restricted by fabric. As you lay, you smile to yourself, overcome with gratitude that Shuri approved of your work. To tell the truth, the only reason you completed the project so fast was so that you could get back to your own. A personal project. You felt sort of guilty using the labs specific resources to make such a perverted creation, but you were dying to know how it felt. How it could feel. How she felt. Invading your walls, breaking them down & making you beg for her to repair them, just to break them down again.

As those feelings that were all too familiar began to rise, you decided to put its effectiveness to the test. You reach over to the dresser drawer beside you & open it, pulling out the gadget.

It was a 256T information-stored sex-toy. It may have looked like a regular, fancy-designed vibrating dildo, but stored inside was recollection of every memory of every encounter the two of you shared. The first glance, the first conversation, every accidental bump, nudge, & shoulder brush. Every piece of eye-contact delivered, every advised direction given.

Nervous, yet excited, you let out a hefty breath, shut your eyes, and held the tool up to your pair of lips, which were currently aching at the hands of desire. One click, and off it was set. Soon as the device made contact with your skin, off into imaginal bliss you went.

“Mm,” You moaned at the sensation. It started off as a soft, comforting vibration, and as the memories built, so did the intensity.

“Exceptional work. Welcome to the team.”

“Thank you so much, Princess. I’m beyond grateful.”

“Please, call me Shuri. What should I call you?”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N.” She smiled. Oh god, that smile. “A name fit for a scientist.”

“Oh, fuck,” Your chest began to heave up and down, as you chased the breath escaping from your lungs and out of your mouth.

“Alright team, let’s get a hold on these mission plans.”

“I don’t understand why we can’t just corner the sucker and blow him up with one of those kick-ass Wakandan canons.” A red head boy with circular specs blurted out.

“Would anybody like to tell me why that wouldn’t work?”

“He’d move so fast he’d dodge the blow?” Another scientist blurts out. Shuri closes her eyes and shakes her head in disapproval of the answer.

“He’s the under lord of the sea. He’d drown the surface area and blow out the canon circuit b-before it could even charge up.” You say semi-confidently.

Shuri’s eyes shoot up open and dart in your direction. “Bingo.” she says with a smile. “You’ve been paying attention. Good girl.”

“Ugh, yes!” You cry out. “I’m your good girl.”

Puzzled, frazzled & slightly confused, you stumbled in Shuri’s office, desperately in need of her guidance. You knock and the door slides open.

“Shuri?” You walk in, taking in the scenery, forgetting how beautiful her office really was. You take a minute to scan the ceilings, the walls, all of its intricate design. She had great taste. Walking backwards, you trip over the rug that ran from underneath her desk.

“Oh—!” You began to fall backwards, when your fall is stopped and barricaded by a pair of strong but steady hands, clamped around your waist.

“You’re good, I got you, I got you,” Soft, affirming words entered your ear canal in a slight whisper, coming from a velvety voice you oh-so-loved. It was quickly followed by a low chuckle that sent a riveting chill down your spine.

“Do you always walk backwards and not look where you're going?”

“Oh, Shuri,” your voice began to carry louder and farther. You couldn’t be more grateful for these sound-proof walls, because you were about to let it all go.

Your body began to vibrate under the pressure, and your juices began to coat around the circumference of the tool.

When you realized you stumbled into her arms, you began to get flustered, stealing a response from both your lips and your brain.

“I’m just messing with you. But what’s up, you okay?”

“I just— I”

“What is it, Y/N, what do you need from me? Let me help you.”

“Fuckkk, Shuri, just fuck me already, please!” You desperately buck yourself up against the toy, in attempts to fully immerse into your fantasy world. Your eyes began to flutter right to the back of your eyelids as one of your hands violently gripped the sheets beneath you. This is the closest you've ever gotten to feeling her and if you weren't so overcome by bliss right now, you'd be hella impressed at its successful function. On other side, a lengthy pair of footsteps paced by your door, alarmed, yet intrigued by the sounds emerging from your room. Shuri had been passing your floor, on her way back to her office, when the sound of your voice in what sounded like pleas stopped her in her tracks. She leaned her ear up against your door, making sure she didn't hear what she thought she was hearing. "You feel so good inside me, Shuri, fuck." Her body immediately heated up at the melodic sounds of your moans, but her heart dropped to the ground when she heard her own name attached to those lewd things you were saying. "Y-Y/N?" Your name fell faint from her lips as she tried to circle in on her own confusion. "Fuck, I'm cumming for you, Princess." You began to make a sloppy, slippery mess as you pumped the toy inside of you, sloshing around all your juices, pushing your orgasm way past your regular limits. "Fuck," Shuri sighed out a frustrated breath, mood switched from confused to turned on. Is this what you did in your free time? Is that what you really wanted? Losing the battle to her impulsive thoughts, she placed her palm on the dual-accessed panel and let herself in. She quietly leaned back on the wall, watching you from across the room, with intent. She watched your sexy frame fluidly squirm around in its place, riding out all its sensations. A smirk creeped across her face, compliments of her new feelings of arousal and her now enlarged ego. Her entrance was so silent, so swift, you continued your pleasuring without noticing the invasion. You sent yourself over the edge, imagining her tall, slim figure, hovering over you, working your body out, kissing across your jaw, whispering commands in your ear. Tell me it's mine. "It's yours, Shuri," Your eyes began to flood with tears, clouding your vision even with slightly cracked open eyelids. "It's all yours, baby." "You mean that?" You hear that familiar voice project itself from across the room, and somehow, even through all your deluded fantasy, you realized how real it sounded. Too real. You opened your eyes and were met with the pair of chocolate brown eyes you so often got lost in, but this time, they were shadowed with lust. You jumped so high, you could've jolted right out of your skin. "Shit!" You sat up, fighting to catch your breath, partially from all the work you had be exerting, partially from the jumpscare you had just encountered. "Shuri, what the fuck are you doing in here?" You grabbed your towel quickly from underneath your body and wrapped it around your naked figure. Her eyes widened, and she threw her hands up in defeat, shocked at your choice of words. She had never heard you speak so profanely. "Well, it kind of sounded like you wanted me in here just a second ago." She replied with her sarcasm and razor-sharp wit, slowly walking towards the edge of your bed, a hand behind her back. You nervously swallowed, fighting to coat your now dry throat, backing up further into your headboard. "I don't understand, H-how did you--" Shuri took her closed fist from behind her hand, lowering it and opening it, showing the kimoyo-bead you had left on the wall during your daily spy on Shuri's studies. Realizing what you had done, you were so embarrassed you could disintegrate right into the ground. "Your eavesdropping has failed you, today, Miss Y/N." In this moment, you wish you could disappear. Not only did you just get caught touching yourself aloud to the thought of your boss, you got caught eavesdropping as well.

How could you slip like this? I mean, after all, you had your secret admiration games down to a science, no pun intended. It was only one thing left to do.

“I-I’m so sorry. I had no intent of disrespecting you or your home like this. I’ll be out of here by dawn.” Each word you uttered cut through you like glass. The pain of having to resign from your dream job & possibly tainting whatever upstanding image the love of your life had of you all because you couldn’t control your sexual urges was enough to crush you.

Before you could lift up to collect your belongings, The Princess held a hand out to stop you.

“Nonsense.” She rises to her feet, staring down at you with a glare you can’t recall seeing before. It was demanding, but not condescending. It was almost, dare you say, an eagerness. "I just wish you would've told me sooner." She says, all seriousness in her tone of voice. "We could've solved this a long time ago." You could hear your heartbeat thumping, directly through your eardrum. The subtle implication spun your mind in every which direction. You didn't want to assume, but if she meant what you thought she did, this would change everything as you knew it. "What are you saying?" You decided to play dumb. You knew what she was getting it, you just needed to hear her say it. "I'm saying," She pulled you by your hips, down to the edge of the bed, causing you to gasp from sudden movement, and hovered over you, grounding both hands at each of your sides. "If you needed some loving from the Princess, I would've happily obliged." As turned on as you were, you couldn't hide the look of shock on your face. You had to be dreaming. "Don't act surprised. I'm like a baby around you. I can't even focus when you're around." You melted underneath her at her confession. All these burning desires and you could've had it with little to no effort. Silently you were cursing your shy and awkward nature. "Bullshit." Your shocked expression grew into a flirtatious smile. You were beaming inside, but you couldn't help to tug a little more. Shuri lowered herself to your lips and crashed into them with her own. Her tongue swiped across your lip asking for permission of entrance, and you accepted. You placed your hands and the sides of her jaw, deepening the passionate kiss between you two. You both moaned in each other's mouth, overwhelmed by the intensity. The heat between your bodies began to generate just like a furnace. You've never felt so much passionate energy before this very moment in your life. After what felt like minutes she finally pulled back from you. "I can give you exactly what you need." She said, staring directly in your eyes, careful not to leave any room for doubt. "But you gotta ask me." You could crawl into a ball and disappear. You were too much of a nervous wreck for this. Ask her? Were your cries and pleas heard from the other side of the door not enough? Truth be told, you wanted her so bad, you were wiling to do anything. You were so stuck in awe, it would take a minute for you to even be able to register the moment. "Come on, baby." She cooed, attempting to coax you out of your silence. "You were so vocal before. I know you know how to use that pretty mouth." You shivered at her forwardness and a moan involuntarily slipped out of your mouth, once again stroking her ego. "Shuri, please," You whined, making an attempt of getting out of the humiliation. "Please?" She mockingly raised her eyebrows, waiting for you to cave. "Please, fuck me. I need it, I need you." You managed to spill out. It was no turning back now. A warm yet sinister smile graced the royal's face. "Now, was that so hard?" She came up from over you, pulling you up with a firm but gentle squeeze around your throat. She pecked your lips a few times more before releasing her grip. "I'll do you one better." Curious to what she was referring to, you could feel the blood rushing through your veins. This was so unpredictable, she was so unpredictable. But it excited you. She took off her coat and her shirt, only being left in a crisp, white tank, bra-less. Though you wouldn't expect that from her, you weren't complaining. The more she revealed, the more beautiful she became. You could see the definition in her figure. You decide to help her undress, unbuckling her slacks and peeling them down to her knees. You reach for her boxers and she pops your hand. "Someone's a little excited, then?" It was so much teasing being given by her, and as much as it pissed you off, secretly it fueled your fire. She hopped up off the bed, slipping out her pants fully before hoisting you up by your lower back, sitting you on her hips.

You wrap your arms around her neck and tighten the grip of your legs around her waist.

She walks you over to the long, metal table you do all your procedures on, currently covered by a tablecloth and all your tubes & tools.

“You’re done with this. Right?” She takes the cloth and roughly yanks it off the table, knocking everything over, even breaking some things.

“Shuri! What the hell!” You nudge her shoulder in complete shock.

“I’ll replace it, don’t worry.” She lowers the table and lowers you down on your back, gently, making you arch and hiss from the contact of the cold metal.

She then begans leaving soft sensual kisses behind your ear, down to your neck and across your chest, while massaging your outer thigh.

You exhaled in attempt to relax, feeling like you were floating from the touch you so badly craved from her. It was like taking a hit of your first drug. Every touch left you feeling waves of intoxication. And there was no sobering up.

“Is this okay?” She asked looking up you for reassurance.

Through glossy eyes and a bottom lip trapped between your teeth, you nodded.

She continued her trail of kisses, traveling lower and lower, until eventually she made it to your promised land.

“Well, how pretty is she?” She asked rhetorically, gliding her two fingers across your clit, purposefully making a connecting line from your heat to her lips.

“Mm,” She moaned. “And tastes as good as she looks.”

Now impatient, you hooked your ankle over her shoulder and pulled her closer to you, leaving her centimeters from your dripping sex.

“Stop fuckin’ around, Shuri.”

“Oh?” She pretends to be taken aback. “I don’t know if I like your attitude. You waited 2 years, you could wait 2 more minutes, can’t you baby?”

She spread your lips open, exposing your pulsing and fully erect hood. Harshly, she spat on it, watching it drip down between your folds.

“Shhhit,” You moan out, dually in pleasure and in agony of this push and pull game. “No, no I can’t, please.”

“Plea—“ She began to mock you again and you interrupted before she could even continue. You no longer wanted to repeat yourself, so you give in.

“Please, just put your mouth on it, please, I’m fucking dripping,” Exclamation and grit all throughout your voice. Without hesitation she attaches her lips to your aching middle, and deeply french kisses it.

“Yes!” You cry out, grabbing onto the sides of the table for some sort of control. “Just like that.”

Moaning from your flavors, she hums, sending vibrations all through you. She alternates between soft and rough sucks, using your button as a pacifier. Her tongue spoke all 5 languages of love, making every reaction you give and sound you make a translator.

“Fuck, baby, you do it so well,” You were spitting out endless praise, overwhelmed by the pleasure you were feeling.

Pleased by your praise, she locks your thighs in place with her forearms, and flatten her tongues against you & rocks it up and down your center. You could feel every warm sensation, every round tastebud wrapping you up into a blissful embrace.

You lean up on your forearms and watch her every move with a dropped jaw and a set of furrowed brows, in dire need of catching this moment. You had the most beautiful, astounding, most talented girl giving you intense pleasure that she herself had be thinking of doing.

You felt your stomach begin to form knots, a clear indicator of the rise of your climax.

“Shuri I’m about to..to” You could barely get the words out, but even still, she wasn’t ready for you to just yet.

“Mm, mm.” She refused, coming up quickly. “Not yet.”

Before you knew it, she had pushed two fingers deep inside you, immediately reattaching her lips to you. With a steady rhythm she pumped in and out of you while attacking your clit with her tongue. She hungrily stared into your eyes until yours decided to make a detour into the back of your head.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Tears began forming again. “I can’t!”

You grabbed a handful of her curls and tugged them backwards, and instead of it holding her back, her grip became even stronger. She quickly replaced her fingers with her tongue and began fucking you with it, gripping your hips and knocking you into her. Your warm, soft juices coated the entire circumference of her mouth and then some.

You couldn’t control your moans nor the volume of them as you blurted out broken whimpers and your body began to shake. You released into her mouth and with one last peck, she thanked you.

“You did so good for me, Angel.” With enamored eyes you grab her by her neck, roughly kissing her and cleaning yourself from off her lips and her face.

“Come here,” To her command, you move over to her as she straps up. She picks you back up, making you airborne once more, and holds you up by your cheeks before sliding her length into you.

“Fuck!” Immediately you fall weak, legs giving out as soon as your walls were accompanied.

“It’s okay baby, you’re okay. Hold onto me,” She instructed you and you wrapped your arms around her neck with no sign of letting go.

Her slim, & veiny hands lifted you up and slid you back into her, primarily slow and steady. Each pump given to you was at a pace faster than the last. She was buried so deep inside you, your vaginal walls began to twitch, and the way she had you restricted, there was no way to run. She drilled inside you as you screamed bloody mary, sacral glands squirting out from underneath you.

“This is what you wanted, hm?” She taunted you between huffs and pants. “For me to fuck you like the slut you are?”

“Yes! Fuck, yes,” The way she was turning you inside out had absolutely nothing on what you had seen in all of your dreams. She was fucking you silly. You were starting to believe the desire wasn’t one-sided.

Reaching your limit, your medium french-set buried themselves into the skin of her back, sure to be leaving what would be a few scratches and welts in the AM.

You mustered up the strength to pull yourself to her, staring into her eyes, still moaning and singing her praises. You wanted her to know how good she was making you feel. And possibly how much you loved her, if she read deep enough.

“You’re so fucking pretty, Y/N,” She compliments, as she watches every face you make.

Grunting and groaning, her thrusts became sloppy, leading you to believe she was almost at her finish line. Before she could, she lifted you up off of her dick and placed your feet back onto the ground. You were entirely too weak to stand, but you’d quickly find out, you standing weren’t in her plans anyway.

With one quick motion, she turns you around and pushes you down back into the table.

You gasp heavily, the cold metal now being met with your hard and sensitive nipples. She holds her tip up against your entrance and rubs in between, subtly dipping in and coming back out every few rubs.

“So,” She leans down to your ear. “You like eavesdropping, do you?”

Your face gets hot from humiliation. You thought you were past this.

“I— I don’t.. I didn’t mean to—,” You try to plead your case but you were a stammering mess.

“Well,” She picks a kimoyo-bead off her bracelet and slams it down onto the wall. “Let’s see how much the others do as well.”

“Shuri, please,” You plead for her to change her mind.

“Aht, aht.” She hushes you. “Save it for the audience, baby.”

You felt your entire body heat up, so rattled by every emotion, in dire shock of what was actually happening rat the moment.

“Fuck you, Shuri.” You spat, so consumed by humiliation, you weren’t considering your possible consequences.

A cold silence runs after your statement and you could feel the switch in energy. She smooths your hair up in a ponytail with one hand and pulls your head back, forcing you to look up at her.

“Gladly.”

Shuri forced herself up into you, still craning your neck to look at her.

“Shit! Wait!” You immediately regret your actions.

Not letting you plead your case, she continued to eagerly rock herself into you, making your ass cheeks ricochet off her hips, creating violent smacking noises.

“Ohhhh, unh!” Your moans began to amplify the more you fought to conceal them. The hold she had you in was making your hovered nipple tips graze across the cool surface, sending you further into overstim.

“That’s it, baby,” Her sweet, soft lips sing your praises. “Let me hear you.”

You were whimpering and pleading in a blabbering mess, it was pathetic to say the least. But she looked so good, she felt so good.

“Tell everybody how good you feel. Tell them who’s making you feel this way.”

These sentences turned a switch on in you that was completely irreversible. Good. Everybody does need to hear. All those snickering, hair twirling, low life bitches, finding any reason to flaunt their bosom in her office. Any reason to touch her, any reason to bombard her with irrelevant questions.

They gave you looks whenever you were with her, they whispered wishes of your demise. With this realization, you completely surrendered to whatever outcome you would be given.

“Fuck, Shuri, you feel s-so good inside me,” You confessed. “Don’t fucking stop.”

Every few strokes she sent a stinging smack up your backside, making you yelp. She reached one hand down over your clit and begin making medium-paced circular motions, while still ramming inside of you.

“Shuriiii,” You stretched her name out as far as she had your lips stretched. “Yes!”

“My name sounds so much better off your lips.” She confessed.

You begged harder, deeper. She obliged your every wish. As you sobbed out overcome with emotion, she leaned down further kissing your sobbing lips. Even in sex, in her roughness, she was gentle.

What seemed like an ever-flowing stream of your release began dropping down both of your shaky, achy legs.

The royal moaned at the sight of you, literally pouring out for her. A few more strokes before she arrived at her own release and she was out of you and kneeling underneath you. She licked you clean, with a wide and flat tongue, from your ankles up to your center, going back in with sweet, passionate swirls and flicks of the tongue on your clit.

The sensation was so sweet and full of care that although you were crying from pleasure, you were also crying from the overwhelming emotions you were feeling.

She made you feel on top of the world. You wanted to make her feel like that.

She stood up and turned you around to face her. She placed a palm on your cheek, thumb rubbing it, admiring your fucked out facial expression and the adoration in your eyes.

You pulled her into you, smashing your lips into hers, dying to feel the safety of them again, and tasted yourself off her lips.

“See how good you taste, nkozsana?” She asked, piercing you with her eye contact and sending chills down your spine with her native tongue.

“I want to taste you.” You blurt out, desperately.

“There’s no need. I just wanna make you feel good.” She replied.

“That would make me feel so good.” You slur your words with full intent of seducing.

You rub your palms across her shoulders and down her chest, lifting the tank once you get to the bottom of her torso. You kiss all down her now exposed skin, kissing around her chest, down her rib cage, down her navel.

“Please, baby?” you looked up at her from your new kneeled position. You felt her shiver between your hands.

She looked down at you and almost melted where she stood. She had such a soft spot for you. She nervously swallowed before caving in and nodding her head, yes.

You smirked to yourself before standing up and taking her hand, leading her to the bed and lightly pushing her back. You instructed her to move back to the middle of the bed and you crawled up to her.

Your acrylic nails aided in the separation of the skin of her waist and the rim of her boxers. You tugged them off her hips and slide them the rest of the way off her legs.

You took a moment, admiring her beauty. For the first time, you saw Shuri Udaku get flustered. Her ‘too cool for school’ nature seemed to take a leave of absence.

Without breaking eye contact, you lowered yourself to her lower stomach, leaving kisses across it. Seeing her squirm under the delicacy of your touch avenged your yearning soul.

You traveled further and further down til you were hovering over her enterprise. From your view, you could see every sticky droplet of sweat, every hair follicle, every sacred part of her being. She sat up on her forearms, watching your every move, tank still folded and breasts still exposed.

You spread her open further with one hand, pinning it in its place and you began your endeavors. Your tongue slowly but efficiently exploring all of her surface area, nothing going untouched. You paid extra attention to her bud, gently sucking and flicking, switching up your speeds.

“Bast—“ Shuri breathed out, in awe of your talent. She reached down to push you off, and before she could you interlocked your fingers with hers and pinned both of your hands to her chest.

“Y/N,” She began to cry out your name, not knowing it was only your ammunition to continue. With feverish pleasure, you spelled your name in cursive across her sensitivity, mentally claiming her to be yours. You wanted this forever. You wanted her forever.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m cumming, nkoszana,” Her chest heaved up and down, legs beginning to shake. She had never experienced a sexual favor done so passionately, it began to overwhelm her.

You rubbed the sides of her thighs, non-verbally encouraging her to ride it out, while you continued attacking her clit, moaning to send consecutive vibrations into her. Her eyes rolled back into her head as she bucked her hips up, sending herself further into your trap.

Gasping for air, she lets go into you and you clean her up with pride.

As you came back up, she looked at you, astoundingly, in disbelief of what she, 1, allowed you to do to her, and 2 how good you were at it. You smiled nervously, not being able to conceal your chuckle.

“Come here,” She grabbed your arm and tugged you, making you fall directly on top of her. You giggled at her assertiveness.

“Yes?” You ask still smiling down at her.

She pulls you down to her lips, kissing you with the intention of making you feel her gratitude.

“Thank you.” She speaks onto your lips.

You look up at the alarm clock resting on your nightstand, and she positions her neck backwards from underneath you, following your eyes.

“It’s 5 AM.” You start.

“Shit. I gotta go back to my office and set up for the rest of the day.” She says hurriedly, beginning to lift up.

“Can’t you just stay for a little while longer?” You ask her sweetly, purposely putting on the voice that you now know is her weakness.

“Don’t do that to me,” She says fighting off her urges. “I wish I could, but I have a nation to lead.”

“Even Princess’s take vacations, you know,” You reply in a jokey tone.

“Do they?” She chuckled. “I’ll have to invest in one another time.”

Defeated, you began to pout. She lifts up and kisses your lips.

“Put your lips back where they were,” She laughs, teasing you.

You lift up off of her and help her up before she gathers her clothes and puts them back on. The two of you walk back to the door, and she turns around to face you, leaning against it.

“How about I come back tonight?” Shuri asked, holding your hands.

“Hmmm, I don’t know, Princess. I’m a very busy girl.” You tease her.

“Oh, are you?” She chuckles, eyes quickly scanning all of the broken glass materials that lay just a few feet from you both.

You roll your eyes at her sarcasm. “Very funny.”

“You can come back whenever you want.”

“Mm.” She hums. “That’s what I like to hear.”

“Well what if you can’t come back tonight? I thought tonight was your presentation night with the board?” You ask, semi in panic. You really needed to see her again.

“Shit, you’re right. I’m sorry, nkoszana.” Her eyes paced around, in thought, as if she was searching for a solution.

“Well, you could always come to my office. There’s always some work for you to do.” She says with a slick tone in her voice. “Actually, you have some paperwork you haven’t finished that’s past it’s deadline.”

You smiled brightly at her insinuation, knowing very clearly where this was going. “Oh, no, how could I let that happen?”

She shook her head and gave a tsk, tsk, tsk, in her cosplay of disappointment. “I don’t know, but i’m not very pleased with you, Miss Y/N. You will have to make that up to me.”

“Tell me how to fix it,” You say lowly, your arousal slowly building back up.

“Be at my office at 4pm, sharp.” She lifts your chin and lowers herself down to your ear. “And don’t be late. Or that’s an extra penalty.”

She returned back to her above eye level position before kissing your lips once more.

“Yes, Princess,” You promised, impatiently waiting for this day to speed up.

She grabbed the kimoyo bead from off the wall and placed it in her lab coat pocket.

“You give a great performance.” She winked at you before sliding the door open and slipping out, disappearing into the rest of her day.

Smiling from ear to ear, you turn around, and you’re met with the mess that was made earlier, bringing you down from your high.

You quickly open the door and yell down the hall.

“Hey! Come clean up this mess!”

#shuri black panther #shuri x black!reader #black wlw #shuri x you #shuri smut #shuri x y/n #black sapphic #prettymrswright hot ficpic

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