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frflyavenue · 2 months ago

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Exam Stress - Matz ver.

Pairing: Boyfriend!Matz x Stressed!Uni student!Reader

Warnings: MDNI (18+) — Stressed reader, sleep deprived reader, university exam season, crying, eating, fluff and smut, fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving, m receiving, f giving), vaginal sex, spit-roast, threesome smut, slight power dynamic, soft dom!Hongjoong, switch!Seonghwa, lots of praise

Author’s Note: Giving you guys this update early as compensation for not posting anything on Tuesday—First time writing smut, so let me know what you guys think! UYT chapter 3 still on track to be updated tomorrow <3

WC: 5.1k

School sucks. You’re a great student, one of the best performing in your major, and, according to your boyfriends, the hardest working person they’ve ever seen. You’re positive they’re just gassing you up because they love you, but you’re happy that your work is at least recognized. But it’s getting towards the end of the semester, meaning the whole University is filled with students working overtime. Exams are just around the corner, major essays and projects are being finalized and the party hubs of the city have died down as students rush to get their grades up enough to pass. You’re doing well in your classes, of course, but the end of the semester is always a rough time.

You’ve been working non-stop for the last few weeks, studying for your exams and trying desperately to finish your thesis paper for one of your classes. You lost count of how many hours you’ve worked in the library over the last few days, staying until they close around midnight and going home just to keep working. And while you’ve been able to handle the stress and exhaustion, today it all seemed to come to a head.

You haven’t slept more than a total of 10 hours the last four days, and you haven’t eaten nearly enough to sustain yourself. But honestly, the hormones from the stress were enough to suppress your hunger, so you didn’t pay it much attention. You’re exhausted, honestly, yearning to lay down in bed or even just curl up and sleep on the floor of the library, desperate for rest. But you don’t have time. You huff, slamming your laptop shut, earning a few glances from the other students working the library. You don’t dare look at them, stuffing your laptop in your bag with a sigh. You snatch it up and turn to leave, completely silent as you drive yourself to your apartment.

You fumble with your keys lazily as you try to open the door, finally sighing as it squeaks open. You slip into the apartment, taking off your shoes at the door and heading to the bedroom you share with your two boyfriends. Seonghwa, hearing you, turns around with a warm smile to greet you.

”Hey darling, welcome home. We missed you.”

You look up at him, but the second you see his warm expression, you feel your throat tighten, so you quickly look away. “Ah, yeah, I missed you guys too.” You clear your throat. “I have to work on my paper, so I’m gonna go work for a bit.” You don’t wait for him to respond to walk away to the solace of your bedroom.

Seonghwa walks with his mouth slightly agape as you turn your back to him, not able to say anything. Almost immediately after he gathers his thoughts, he rushes over to the living room, where Hongjoong is splayed out on the couch working on a song. He gently tap his shoulder, and Hongjoong removes one side of the headphones to hear.

”Joongie… I think something’s wrong with our Y/N.” He says worriedly, and Hongjoong snaps his eyes up from the screen to look at him.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Seonghwa runs his hand through his hair, clearly worried. “She came in so quiet, and her face seemed so tired… she hardly acknowledged me when she walked in.”

Hongjoong’s expression grows thoughtful, his eyebrows scrunching slightly. Your recent stress hasn’t gone unnoticed by your two boyfriends for the last few weeks. They’ve watched your eyes grow more and more tired every passing day, and while they’ve tried their best to bring you little snacks or cheer you up with little kisses to your temple when you’ve been working for a while, they’ve mostly let you to your work, not wanting to disturb you. But for Seonghwa to be this concerned now… Hongjoong trusts his boyfriend in thinking that something’s wrong. “Okay… why don’t you go talk to her, hm? I don’t want to overwhelm her with both of us, but I want to check on her.”

Seonghwa hesitantly nods, and Hongjoong presses a comforting kiss to his forehead before letting him go visit you.

You hardly register the knock at the door until it creaks open, and you freeze up, looking over at him with wide, guilty eyes. There are tears streaming down your face, your nose running and your sleeves wet from wiping your eyes. Seeing him, with his beautiful, elegant face twisted in concern taking in the sight of you, you only feel worse. You turn away, desperately attempting to dry your tears as he approaches. You hiccup helplessly as he turns the office chair around so you’re facing him, optnig to hide your face in your hands.

Seonghwa steps closer so he’s standing between your legs, gently pulling you into him. You let your face, still covered by your hands, lean into his stomach, feeling one hand resting protectively on your back while the other rests on the back of your head, his thumb rubbing comforting cicely into your hair. Almost immediately, you let go to wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face deeper into his tummy and sobbing against his hoodie.

Seonghwa feels himself tear up at the sound, his voice softly shushing you while he cradles your head against his body. He doesn’t move, holding you just like that, not planning to ever let you go.

Hongjoong, hearing the gut-wrenching sound from the other room, sneaks into the room, standing behind Seonghwa and rubbing his back. The taller man is blinking back tears, his hands holding you close to him as you let out pitiful sobs of frustration and exhaustion, sounds he’s never heard from you in the two years you all had been dating. Hongjoong, too, feels his throat tighten, distracting himself by silently comforting Seonghwa in the meantime. The three of you remain like until the sound of sobs dies down to sniffles, and Hongjoong moves to kneel next to your chair. He places a hand on your thigh, gently rubbing there.

”Hey, beautiful.” He whispers softly, gently easing your hands down for you to look at him. You do, your swollen eyes meeting his. “Hey… there she is…” His voice is soft and quiet, almost as if he’s talking to a kitten. You're grateful for it, the sound not overwhelming your mind.

You snuffle, leaning into his hand when he moves to cup your cheek. “I-I’m sorry…” you squeak out, and he immediately shakes his head, shushing you.

“No, no ‘sorry’. I can speak for both of us when I say that Seonghwa and I want you to be happy. But part of that means taking care of you when you’re sad, hm?” He just watches you for a moment, gently holding your face in his hands as he kneels in front of you. “…What’s the matter babydoll?”

You close your eyes and try to clear your blurry eyes, opening them again to look down at his loving face. “I… I just got frustrated.” You explain, your voice wobbling pitifully. “I’m so tired, and I have so much to do. But I feel stuck on this stupid paper, and I have to finish it, and…” You trail off, your throat burning as tears slip silently down your delicate cheeks and onto Hongjoong’s delicate hands.

Hongjoong nods, gently wiping the little drops of water away with his thumb, not breaking his gaze. “It’s okay, we’ve got you now. We’re going to go take a break, baby.”

You open your mouth to refuse, but Seonghwa shushes you before you can say anything. “No, no, he’s right Y/N. You need to eat and take a break, or you wont be able to get anything done anyways.” He pauses. “My mom always used to tell me that productivity is subjective. Sometimes, the most productive thing you can do is take a break, eat some good food, and get some sleep. Right now, that’s exactly what would be most productive to you, understand?” His voice is gentle but firm, and his tone gives you no choice but to tentatively agree.

Hongjoong smiles proudly up at Seonghwa, dropping his hands from your face and standing up, offering his hand to you. You take it, letting him pull you up. You sigh longingly as Hongjoong closes your laptop shut, and Seonghwa places a guiding hand on your back as he walks you three to the living room.

While it pains you to step away from your work, you immediately feel relieved as Seonghwa pulls you with him onto the couch, instinctively finding your position on his chest as he lay down with his head resting on the cushy armrest. His hand tangles in your hair, the other rubbing your back up and down in slow, repetitive motions. The steady thumping of heart under your cheek is enough to make you come undone, and your shoulders relax.

Smiling fondly at the sight, Hongjoong sits next to your tangled bodies, opening his phone. “We’re ordering in tonight. What are you feeling, pretty girl?”

The corners of your lips twitch up, though you don’t bother to open your blissfully closed eyes. “Pasta?” You respond, the thought of noodles making your mouth water.

Hongjoong laughs and pats your butt affectionately, ordering you guys a few of your favorite pasta dishes to share.

In the meantime, Seonghwa struggles with the remote, trying to put on a cute animated movie to cheer you up. Finally figuring out what buttons to press, he finds a selection of studio ghibli movies and let you take your pick. Hongjoong calls in to order the food while the two of your start the movie, and as soon as he’s done, he walks back over to the couch. You turn around so you’re laying on your back against Seonghwa’s chest, his arms wrapping around your waist while you reach your arms out to Hongjoong. He smiles brightly before climbing into your arms, laying with his head resting on the soft pillows on your chest and his arms joining Seonghwa’s around your waist. Content to be between both of them, you sigh.

It’s the best you’ve felt in weeks. Seonghwa’s chest rising and falling steadily against your back, Hongjoong snuggled up close to you, letting you tangle your fingers in his hair, the soft strings of the ghibli movie—it was perfect. When you drift off, hands resting limp and calm against Hongjoong’s back and hair and head resting comfortably back against Seonghwa’s happily beating heart… your boys can’t help but feel the same.

NSFW content following the cut ———

You awake groggily at the sudden loss of the comfortable weight on your chest, grumbling at the cold air hitting your front. You open your eyes, Seonghwa giggling lovingly at your state from behind you and Hongjoong nowhere to be seen. You pout, looking around.

”He’s getting our food.” Seonghwa explains softly, his voice hardly above a whisper. You nod, not bothering to move as you hear Hongjoong open the front door and thank the delivery person. He returns with a slight grin, holding up the bag of food victoriously.

You smile, sitting up and moving to get up off the couch. Seonghwa clicks his tongue in dissatisfaction, pulling you back to stay. “Where do you think you’re going?”

You giggle, wriggling weakly in his grasp. “To the table? To go eat dinner?” You respond, your voice already containing more of it’s usual happiness.

Hongjoong laughs and shakes his head, his eyes making pretty crescents. “No, silly, we’re gonna eat in the living room today. It’s treat.”

You gasp, turning to look at Seonghwa. Usually, he’s the one scolding you and Hongjoong about your cleaning and organizational habits, always keeping you both in check. So for him to be letting you eat in the living room…

Seonghwa rolls his eyes, but his grin never leaves his face as he gently lest go and helps Hongjoong unpack the food onto the coffee table. You gasp excitedly, sitting crisscrossed on the floor in front of the couch. Seonghwa ruffles your hair before going to making the three of you bowls of pasta.

The food is delicious, of course. You hum with satisfaction, not remembering the last time you ate a proper meal. Sure, pasta isn’t the healthiest meal, but it sure does hit the spot after not eating anything but protein snacks and the random fruits your concerned boyfriends brought you every once and a while. They seem to notice, not taking their eyes off you as you go silent to eat, eagerly slurping up pasta. Proud to see you feeling better, they also find that the food is especially good—maybe just because you look so happy eating it.

You listen intently as Hongjoong talks about the songs he’s working on, never having felt so happy just to hear him ramble as you are now. Seonghwa is silent, too focused on his food, but he occasionally bumps your shoulders with his legs, still sitting on the couch as you sit on the floor between his legs. It’s been so long since you’ve all gotten to just sit and eat together, between the weird schedule of your classes and studying for finals, Hongjoong’s production, and both of the boys' dance practices. Looking at Hongjoong’s happy face and gently rubbing Seonghwas calf as it cages protectively around your form, you feel yourself tearing up.

”I missed you guys.” You whisper in a beat of silence, taking another bite of pasta to counteract the sentimental tears forming. Hongjoong looks up at you, giving you a delicate smile. Seonghwa sets his bowl down, gently massaging your shoulders as he, also, tries not to cry, not wanting to make you upset.

”We missed you too, babydoll.” Hongjoong replies, and Seonghwa squeezes your shoulder as well in emphasis. He looks thoughtful for a moment, before clearing his throat and setting his bowl down. “Y/N?”

You look up, swallowing your big bite of pasta before responding. “Hm?”

Hongjoong laughs softly, before shaking his head and scooting closer to you, gently taking your hand and holding it in his lap. “Hwa and I love you so much. We never ever want to see you so stressed, yeah? We understand that you have a lot to do—we’re in a similar position a lot of the time. But… just like how you make sure to take care of us when we’re feeling overwhelmed, we want to take care of you too.”

You blink, taken off guard by his sudden seriousness. Senoghwa gently reaches around to tuck your hair back behind your ear. “He’s right. It’s okay to get frustrated, stressed, tired… even just sad. But it’s not okay to completely isolate yourself from everyone around you and push yourself past what your body and mind can handle.” He adds, gently combing through your hair with his fingers. He’s right, you realize. Unknowingly, you had been avoiding your friends and even your two beloved boyfriends, hiding in the library to avoid coming home and staying cooped up in your bedroom at every opportunity under the pretense of discipline. Seonghwa’s words from earlier echo in your mind. Productivity is subjective… Sometimes, the most productive thing you can do is take a break…

You nod slowly, setting your own bowl down. “Yeah… you guys are right,” you admit with a slight look of guilt. “I’ve probably been stressing myself out more than necessary because I’ve been getting so frustrated.” You explain, earning a nod from Hongjoong. You continue. “And… I promise from now on, I’ll rely a little more on you guys. I’m sorry for worrying you.” You meet Hongjoong’s eyes and gently squeeze Seonghwa’s calf, and they coo.

”Such a sweet thing…” Seonghwa praises, squishing your cheek even from his odd position behind you. You blush, suddenly shy, and Hongjoong laughs, lightly hitting Seonghwa’s thigh. The three of you go quiet for a minute, the air lighter.

Interrupting the silence, Hongjoong clears his throat, looking up at you. “Y/N?”

You nod, giggling at his tone. “What? You’ve said my name like that twice already, it’s so cute~”

Hongjoong scoffs and nearly argues, but his blush creeps up his face before he can rebut. He shakes his head. “I’m being serious here!”

You and Seonghwa laugh, but you quickly shake your head and squeeze his shoulder. “Sorry, sorry. Go ahead, honey.”

He blushes at the nickname, his personal favorite from you, and clears his throat again. “Well, Hwa and I were talking while you napped, and we wanted to ask if you’d like to let us take care of your stress for you tonight? You know, help you relax a bit..?”

You smile, shaking your head innocently. “No, I’m sorry. There’s not really much you guys can do, my paper is built off of research I’ve been doing all semester. I appreciate the offer, of course, but I should really just write it on my own.”

Hongjoong blinks. He’s known you for a long time, but he will never not be astounded by how your sweet, dense brain works. He laughs in shock. “Hah… geez, Y/N… for somebody so smart, you sure are slow.” He says, and Seonghwa coughs back a laugh before pretending to scold him. You tilt your head.

”Uh… sorry?”

Hongjoong shakes your head, and Seonghwa moves to sit on the floor with you guys, feeling awkward not being able to see your face.

“No, not like that my dear.” He explains. He gently takes your hand and presses it to his lips. “We want to take you to bed, our love. It’s been a while since we could take care of you, hm?”

Your face heats up immediately. Seonghwa has always been the best of you three at initiating this kind of intimate affection, so it shouldn’t come at any surprise. But even after sleeping with your boyfriends hundreds of times… they only get sexier You subconsciously press your thighs together.

Seonghwa just chuckles at your cute reaction, standing up and grabbing the trash from your dinner. “Think it over while I clean dinner up, hm?”

You watch with your mouth slightly agape as he takes the trash to the bin in the kitchen, stunned silent. You turn to look at Hongjoong, who tucks your hair back affectionately.

”Kiss me?” You whisper suddenly, looking up at him shyly through your eyelashes.

Hongjoong smiles softly at your request, cupping your jaw and tilting your head up so he can access your lips. He kisses you softly, his plush lips molding naturally against yours. He turns his head to the side after just a moment, gently licking at your bottom lip, and you part your lips to grant him access. He eagerly intrudes your mouth, tangling his tongue with yours. His hand slowly comes up to rest on your waist, his thumb slipping under the hem of your shirt and rubbing easy circles over the smooth, delicate skin there. You hum into his mouth and rest your hands on his shoulders for support, desperate to taste more. It’s been a long time, you realize, since you’ve done anything like this with your boyfriends. You’ve missed it.

Seonghwa returns, raising an eyebrow at the sight and sitting on the side of the couch, opting to just watch for a little while. He knows he’ll get his turn.

Sure enough, Hongjoong pulls away just for a moment at seeing Seonghwa sit down, leaving you whining. He clicks his tongue.

”Tsk tsk… patience babydoll. Lie down on the couch for me, hm?”

You nod and quickly position yourself comfortably on the couch, happy when Hongjoong climbs over top of you and continues kissing you. To your dismay, he refuses giving you entrance back into his mouth, instead moving to press slow, open mouthed kisses down your jaw. You breathe heavier at the sensation, letting out shameless little gasps and whimpers when he nips sensitive parts of your neck. Almost too swift to notice, Hongjoong slides his hands up under your shirt, pulling it up over your head in one smooth motion before crawling downward to kiss your collarbone, lingering around the straps of your bra. Just before you feel yourself growing impatient, he unclips the fabric barrier as if reading your thoughts, gently sliding it down your shoulders to reveal your soft breasts.

He exhales in wonder at the beautiful sight, reaching one hand up to gently palm at the flesh there. “God, baby… how could I have ever forgotten how much I missed these pretty things, hm?”

You blush shyly at his praises, his tone of voice one that always gets you in a space ready and wanting to please. You arch your back impatiently, the cold air leaving you desperate for their touch. Hongjoong smiles, letting you get away with it for now and leaning down to gently take the soft flesh of your breast into his mouth.

You gasp slightly as his tongue caresses the bud of your breast, comforted with the feeling of his mouth tenderly kissing the plush skin there. You pet his hair in return, and Seonghwa reaches a hand up to rub Hongjoongs back encouragingly, fond of watching his lovers feeling good.

After a few minutes of getting you slowly more and more needy from Hongjoongs touches, Seonghwa finally moves to tug at the waist of your pants, easing them down your thighs and folding them neatly on the other side of the couch. He repositions himself to be propped on his elbows between your thighs, and you shiver when you recognize the position. His breath brushes against the heat between your thighs as he leans forward, turning his head to suck at the skin of you plush thighs. He gently kneads the soft flesh under his hands, slowly easing your thighs further apart as he inches up closer to where you need him. You roll your hips forward, desperate.

Seonghwa smiles, finally leaning forward and licking a fat stripe from your leaking entrance up to your clit, stopping there to suck on the bundle of nerves there. You gasp at the sudden stimulation, arching your back into his tongue and earning a delicious hum from him. “God, you taste so good…” Seonghwa moans into your dripping folds. He rolls his tongue expertly over the now erect bud while Hongjoong switches to sucking small marks into your collarbone, the combination sending you reeling.

When Seonghwa suddenly slides two fingers inside of you, you finally let out a full moan, earning a smile from both men. Hwa’s fingertips brush against the perfect spot inside, and combined with his tongue messily lapping up your juices and Hongjoongs attention back on your breasts, you nearly cum on the spot.

Hongjoong places a hand on Seonghwa’s head, signaling for him to stop.

You pant as you come down from the edge. “I want more,” you manage to get out in between breaths, looking up at Hongjoong.

He chuckles. “Such a needy little thing, hm?” You pout, and he giggles, finding you cute. “Bend over the side of the couch.” Seonghwa glances over at him with surprise at his suddenly domineering tone. Hongjoong just shrugs. “If our baby wants it so bad, then let’s give it to her. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how naughty our girl is, hm?”

Seonghwa glances over at you with concern, wanting to make sure it’s really what you want. He doesn’t have to worry for long, though, since you’re already scrambling to bend over with your elbows propped up on the armrest of the couch. He lets out a surprised laugh. “God, Joong. Maybe I did forget.”

Hongjoong smirks, his adoring eyes raking over your submissive position. “Seonghwa, tell me baby, do you want her pussy or her mouth? You get first pick today.”

The pretty man needs no time to decide. “Can I please get her pussy today, Joongie?”

Hongjoong nods and presses a sweet kiss to Seonghwa’s cheek. “Of course you can, love. Thank you for asking so nicely.”

While you can’t see them talking behind you in your current position, the way they talk to each other alone makes you blush. The three of you all love each other so much, there’s no doubt about it. And even when Hongjoong takes over a more dominant role, he’s never really mean, making sure his partners know that his priority is always taking care of them. You smile softly, in your thoughts, when you feel Seonghwa climb on the couch behind you.

You grip the arm of the couch in anticipation. Seonghwa presses the head of his dick against your folds, rubbing it along your clit and spreading your love juices around. You drop your head at the feeling, biting back a moan. When he finally slides in, though, you can’t help but groan out his name, pushing your hips back against him until he’s fully seated inside of you.

Hongjoong hums in satisfaction as he watches, reaching to rub comforting circles on the smooth skin of your back. “Deep breaths, baby. Does it feel good?”

You nod immediately, a little too eager. “Y-yes…” You hiss.

Hongjoong chuckles. “Good girl. Seonghwa, baby, don’t move until I tell you to.” Seonghwa groans but agrees nonetheless. Hongjoong walks around to the side of the couch where you’re facing, cupping your jaw. “Stick out your pretty tongue for me.”

You obey, parting your lips quickly and letting your tongue drop out for him, too far gone to be embarrassed about how much saliva you’re producing. He bites his lip, stroking his fully erect length in front of your face, giving you the most perfect view. When he finally rubs the bulbous head of his pretty cock against your tongue, you hum. He doesn’t do much more for a while, leaving both you and Seonghwa, who is essentially just being cockwarmed, impatient. But just before you lose your composure and ask hm outright to just fuck your throat, he finally slides his length into your mouth.

You eagerly wrap your lips around him, tightening them expertly and sliding your tongue over the underside of his pretty length, making him roll his eyes back.

“Hon- ah god… you’re so good, baby. So perfect-“ He pants, placing a hand on the back of your head and bottoming out in your throat. While he isn’t quite as long as Seonghwa, you’ve always thought that his dick fits perfectly in your mouth. Just enough to make you feel full without causing any painful gagging. You hum around him, and he finally breaks. “Oh god- Hwa, baby, move… I don’t know how long I can last…”

Seonghwa doesn’t have to be asked twice. Without warning, he starts thrusting in and out of you firmly, holding onto your waist for support. You gasp, not caring about volume anymore as he pounds into you, each thrust calculated and firm. Hongjoong can feel you rocking from Seonghwa’s relentless pace, and he lets out a low groan, holding tightly onto a fistful of your hair. “Babydoll, can I fuck your throat? P-please?”

You blink up at him expectantly in response, and he tilts his head back as he finally slides slowly in and out of your mouth.

Hongjoong slowly begins to fuck your mouth, savoring every inch as he watches your throat stretch around him. His hand remains steady on the back of your head, but he never pushes further than you can take—he knows your limits too well. Your eyes water slightly from the fullness, but the way both your boyfriends are moaning, praising you, touching you, has your arousal spiking all over again.

Behind you, Seonghwa is groaning softly under his breath, his thrusts now faster, deeper, his hips snapping into yours with growing desperation. “Fuck, you feel so good, love,” he pants, leaning forward to press kisses to your spine as he grinds into that sweet spot that makes your whole body shiver. His fingers tighten on your waist, and you can feel how close he is by the way his movements get a little sloppier.

“God, she’s dripping, Hwa,” Hongjoong murmurs with a breathless laugh, hips stuttering forward as you suck him harder, slurping around his cock like it’s the only thing you need. “Our baby’s soaking you.”

Seonghwa lets out a shaky whine, the sound sending heat straight to your core. “I—fuck, Joongie, I’m gonna—”

“Not yet,” Hongjoong growls through his teeth, voice tight with restraint. “Wait for her. Baby,” he coos down to you, pulling slowly out of your mouth with a wet pop. “Do you wanna cum?”

You nod frantically, voice hoarse with need. “P-please—I’m so close…”

“Then do it,” Seonghwa chokes out, slamming into you just right as he reaches around to rub quick circles on your clit. “Cum for us, baby. Let us feel you.”

It takes nothing more. Your orgasm crashes over you, thighs shaking as you scream out their names, walls clenching around Seonghwa’s cock in desperate pulses. He gasps, loud and broken, and finally lets go, spilling inside you with a deep, satisfied groan, hips grinding into you to ride it out. His head drops between your shoulder blades, breath hot and fast.

The sight of his two lovers feeling so good is enough for Hongjoong. He jerks himself off over your tongue, the pace of his fist desperate and sloppy. He jerks forward, trembling as he cums in front of you, thick spurts of release painting your tongue. You swallow up every drop on instinct, humming softly as he pants and wipes the corner of your lips with his thumb, utterly dazed.

For a long moment, all that fills the room is the sound of your shared, panting breaths. Seonghwa slowly pulls out, careful not to hurt you, and places a tender kiss to the curve of your lower back before helping you back onto the couch properly.

You collapse back onto Seonghwa chest, arms wide open for Hongjoong as he makes his way back around to the seat of the couch.

“Holy shit,” you mutter with a breathless laugh as Hongjoong climbs in next to the two of you, placing a loving hand on your thigh.

Hongjoong kisses your forehead, smiling contentedly. “We’ve really missed this.”

Seonghwa hums his agreement against your shoulder, holding you tighter.

You smile, eyes fluttering closed as exhaustion finally catches up with you. “Me too,” you whisper, yawning. Wrapped between your two lovers, bodies warm and sticky and pressed together, it’s hard not to feel sleepy.

The two men notice with fond expressions, glancing at each other.

Seonghwa kisss your cheek. “Alright, love, let’s go get you cleaned up. Something tells me it’s bedtime.”

You let out a breathy laugh, nodding.

“I love you guys.”

#ateez x female reader #ateez x reader #ateez x y/n #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez smut #ateez hongjoong #ateez hard hours #ateez fluff #ateez seonghwa #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #matz #matz x reader #seonghwa x hongjoong #matz smut #first smut

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moongirlrhea · 4 months ago

Text

azriel and his best friend - a drabble

i sat down at my laptop and this just came out? english is not my first language so if you see any typos, no u didn’t

series masterlist is here

word count: 1.7k

open to feedback, let me know what you think and if you want to see more of these two!

“Az, could you fly me down to the rainbow later? I need to- shit! … run a few errands” he faltered hearing his best friend’s distracted voice. Smiling faintly he crossed the room to her bedroom.

“Love, are you alright?” hand raised to knock, Azriel stood in front of her door.

“Love?”

“Sorry! Yes, yes! Fuck, can you come in here?” He was inside her bedchamber before her sentence was finished. An amused smile started to form over his face as he watched his sweet girl standing in front of her vanity mirror, struggling with the bow tied up in her hair.

“I fucked up, I think,” their eyes met in the mirror, her face a mix of exasperation and amusement

“Could you help?” she asked sheepishly. Azriel got on it with no words said, frowning.

“You wear this hairstyle everyday, how did you even do this…” he muttered, meeting her eyes in the reflection again

“Leave me alone”

Amusement swam in the shadowsinger’s hazel eyes at the groaned response. He looked around the room, at the clothes thrown haphazardly on the bed, an empty tea cup from last night and half finished sketch of her new project on the floor. He was almost done fixing her hair. “Hairbrush?” she handed it to him, and he brushed her golden-brown locks.

“Where am I taking you again?”

“Oh! I need to get some new fabric for that new dress I’m making. Can you believe it? I’m completely out of red after all the gowns I made for Mor…” she trailed off, and Azriel hummed.

“Who’s this one for?”

“Cass asked me to make a dress for Nesta. He is taking her somewhere for their anniversary I think?”

“Thank the gods, we’ll get a few days of peace around here” even years after their mating, the pair was still impossible to be around in the same house at night. Many evenings ended with the shadowsinger and his best friend hiding away in his room, while his shadows sound-proofed the chamber. Azriel did really hate having to run from Cassian and Nesta and their activities in his own home, but after his best friend started joining him more and more often, those nights became his favorite. He missed the peace of their late-night talks, an often occurrence decades before, later lost to Amarantha and the war.

Her snort stopped his trail of thought just as he finished tying the blue bow containing half of her hair.

“Alright, done. Ready to go?”

Later that day, they walked along the sidra, raspberry pastry in one of his hands, bag of newly bought fabrics in his other.

“My family wants me to come home for starfall this year” Azriel’s head whipped in the direction of her voice, though her head was down, staring at the cobblestones. Home is Velaris, Azriel thought. And you’re family.

“Is that why you haven’t been annoying me with how you don’t know what you want to wear this year?” he felt stupid before he even finished making the joke. He knew how her relationship with her blood-relatives looked. Azriel stared at the side of her head, hoping she would face him. Knowing she would not.

“Sweetheart…”

“I don’t know, Az. I don’t wanna go. Does that make me a bad daughter?”

“You know it doesn’t.”

“I need to be reminded sometimes, I think.”

The wind whipped around them, making the waves of the sidra sing. People walked past the pair, rushing to get home amidst the late-november starfall preparations.

“You will stay here, if you don’t want to go. They can talk to me first if they have an issue with that” he heard her sigh, but she didn’t say anything more, only laid her head upon his shoulder. He brought her closer with his wing, shielding her from the winter wind.

“Bite” he brought the pastry he was holding down to her lips.

“Mm! This one is my favorite, I think.” she said, tongue darting out to clean up some raspberry jam that got on her cheek.

“It’s a bit sour, no? I prefer chocolate.” she chuckled, head lifting for green eyes to meet hazel ones. He swore the freckles on her cheeks, rosy from the cold, formed constellations.

“That’s because you have a massive sweet tooth. Why did you get this one then?”

“It’s your favorite”

“Az, I didn’t even know it was my favorite until like, three minutes ago.” Her eyebrow lifted, wide eyes staring at him.

“Well, I know lots of things. Spymaster, remember?” Azriel was looking down at her mischief dancing in his eyes. Walking at a relaxed pace, air fresh and good around him. Or maybe it was just that she was next to him.

“Oh, right then, excuse me” his best friend was chuckling, her head resuming its past position on his shoulder. The sun was beginning to set around Velaris, the temperature getting colder, but that did not seem to bother the pair who kept walking huddled against one another. It was an uncommon thing to see the shadowsinger so relaxed and at peace, except for when he was with her. Life was good then, and the air smelled of something sweet, and Azriel could not comprehend how something could be bad, so long as she stayed at his side.

Shadows danced around them as they took a turn after walking past one of the pastel buildings, the sidra beginning to disappear behind them, the mountain now in sight. She hummed, and then said:

“I’d rather be here anyway”

“Hm?”

“With you. I’d choose you over them anytime, you know? You’re my family” and something so right snapped in place in Azriel’s chest. He hummed, leaning down to lay a kiss upon her temple.

“Yeah,” he mumbled “I know. You’re mine too.”

Azriel knew she would be coming before he heard her knock upon his door and his shadows rushed to welcome her in. Two steaming mugs of tea were already sitting on his bedside table, the cobalt covers pulled down to make space for her.

“Look, I have these two shades of blue. I can’t decide. Maybe I should incorporate them both?” she rushed into his room like a storm, throwing the fabric samples at him, claiming her space on his bed as he caught them. Azriel blinked at her.

“For the starfall dress, Az” she was blowing at the tea, trying to cool it down, smiling at him. Azriel, absentmindedly, smiled back.

“Oh,” he fiddled with the fabric. “The darker one is nicer” he looked at her as he sat down on the bed, across from her.

“You think? Look, here are the designs I made "

"They’re beautiful,” she passed him his tea, “Very… Hm. Sireny” she kicked her legs up into his lap

“That is what I was going for! I miss summer terribly-"

"I wouldn’t know how often you complain about it” he looked at her with mischief in his eyes, a smirk threatening to break across his face, quickly washed off by the pillow she threw at him. He let her. Well deserved, he thought. “Hey! Leave me alone. I literally don’t even talk about it that much” she huffed, sipping her tea, and he found himself smiling again.

“I can take you, you know.”

“Where?” a tendril of shadow twirled around a strand of her hair, then around the shell of her curved ear. She did not even notice.

“Summer court. Or some other warm place. Wherever you’d like "

"You’d take a weekend off of work?” she was smiling faintly, hope already blossoming in her wide eyes.

“A whole week, perhaps” she gasped at that, sitting up, the tea sloshing around the rim of the cup, a shadow darting up to stabilize her hands.

“I wonder what Rhys would say. He needs to leave you alone” she threw her head back

“Which you’ve made perfectly clear to him last week, hm?”

“I stood up for you! He’s making you overwork yourself and you don’t even say anything-” she was still talking, but all Azriel could do was stare at her, clad in a nightgown and laying amongst his sheets, like she owned them, like she was his, his wife, his-

“Azriel? Are you even listening to me?” he breathed. The moonshine made her look ethereal.

“So, a trip to Summer next month after starfall?”

“Cassian will be so mad”

“Cassian can suck it” she laughed again, bathed in moonlight, throwing her head back like a little kid.

“Yeah,” she beamed at him “Yeah, he can”

Later, after they were done with the tea, and his best friend unconsciously started drifting closer to him, Azriel moved up the bed. Cleaned up the fabric and pages of dress projects scattered around the bed, stacking them neatly next to his bed.

She yawned as he sat down and pulled the covers around them both.

Azriel hummed, a stupid smile breaking across his face, as always anyway when he watched her unapologetically make herself comfortable, drifting closer to his side and finally burying her head in the juncture between his neck and shoulder. He hummed as his arms and wings came around her, and as he felt her breathing even out in the quiet of the night. He smoothed a hand down her hair. His sweet girl. He was so lucky to hold her that, even if her family truly were not so bad, he would never relate to them for letting her go so easily. For not cherishing her and caring for her, as she should be cared for - with the utmost attention the world could offer. Maybe that was just it - he was the only one able to offer her the care she deserved. She was meant to end up in his arms, after all. Yes, that must be it. His shadows must have agreed as well, with how they wove around her. And even if her best friend was all he could call himself, Azriel would take it. Greedily.

#acotar x reader #azriel x reader #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel acotar #reading #azriel fanfiction #az x reader #best friends to lovers #writing #azriel drabble

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cosmosluckycharms · 5 months ago

Text

Bug like angel

pt2

Girl Afraid

May 12, XXXX

4:45 AM

"Shit," you think to yourself as you realize you're going to be late for school

Yes, your school usually doesn't start till 7 AM, but you have a field trip today, and the bus leaves at 5:30 AM.

"Ms.Rose is gonna kill me if I'm late again! Where did I put my bag? Where are my earbuds?" you whisper to no one in particular

You had a million thoughts running in your head, but one thing was sure, you were so late.

You still had to grab your phone, eat breakfast, put on your clothes, do your hair and makeup on the bus, and run towards the bus and then maybe you can make it in time.

You rush downstairs to get breakfast and realize you don't have to be as quiet because it's empty in the kitchen.

You quickly eat breakfast and finish your morning routine before making it out the door.

It's 5:43 when you make it onto the bus, Ms. Rose was waiting on you and thankfully didn't you much of a hard time.

"Ms.y/n, please be more considerate of others time next time."You sat down next to your "friends"

You don't fully consider them your friends, they're too full of themselves and you all know none of you guys are friends, just close acquaintances.

After finishing the coffee you brought onto the bus ride, doing your hair and makeup, and taking a quick nap while listening to music, you finally made it.

Alchemax.

You were excited for the trip, even asking Dick, Jason, and Bruce if they wanted to tag along as chaperones.

They said no, which you both understood and were also sad about but, whatever, who cares? Anyways- you're at the coolest place!

It's perfect for someone who wants an internship that would look great on your resume.

Why do you want that resume? You don't know. Maybe it's so you can impress your family? You aren't fully sure.

Before you question yourself further, you get off the bus, along with your schoolmates.

You hear them all chatting about whatever, but it's clear to everyone that you are the most excited to go on this trip.

You, who wouldn't shut up about it despite everyone at school and home telling you to. You, who kept bouncing off walls while talking about it. You, who constantly wrote about it in journals.

Nothing could stop your excitement, and that was clear to others.

While you were there, you were practically the only one participating.

The only one wasnt scared to ask questions.

The one that would ask questions for others who wouldn't.

You were sure that this was the best trip of your life! You were so interested in everything!

It wasn't until later in the day after you got home at 7:56 that you saw everyone in the dining room sitting together eating, like usual, without you.

Every time you saw them together your heart broke a little more.

You tried to not make a scene and just walk away quietly, and it worked!

With everyone but Alfred.

"And where have you been, young miss?" He asked in an authoritary tone.

"I've been on a field trip in Alchemax! I just got back! It was soo fun, why?" you asked, knowing what he was going to ask.

"Wouldn't you like to have dinner with the others?" it's clear he just wanted the others to notice you, he knew you've tried so hard to be with them.

"it's alright, Alfred. I grabbed lunch with my friends earlier, I'm still full!" you said enthusiastically. It wasnt a lie, afterwards you all went to your favorite fast food place, batburger. You're sure theres no better fast food place than batburger.

"Oh, that's quite alright then." as soon as he said that you went upstairs to get unready and unpack for the day. you didnt notice Jasons slight dissapointment on his face when you refused and walked away.

It's good that it was a Friday, you could rest tomorrow.

You didn't notice how you accidentally took Project 111 with you. Mustve sneaken in your bag while you went to the bathroom while at Alchemax.

It took you a while to open your bag due to you getting ready for bed, and you screamed when you saw a spider in your bag and crawling onto your hand.

"FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK STOP CRAWLING ON ME LEAVE ME ALONE WHERE DID YOU COME FROM GO AWAY!" the stupid spider kept crawling on you.

It's honestly suprising no one heard you scream. Either that or they didnt care.

You didnt know what to do. You hate spiders.

It took you minute or two of just flailing before actually doing something.

You tried to reach for your nearest hairbrush to hit the spider with, only to accidentally hit yourself anywhere but where the spider was. Thats gonna leave a mark.

The spider, project 111, ended up biting you on the wrist. You ended up killing it with your hairspray.

You started panicking on whether you would die or not, you may have cried a little before realizing you were being a tad bit dramatic.

You realized the spider didn't look like the venomous ones you researched online while trying to find common ground with Damian back when he was new

So you decide to keep this to yourself, a nice little secret.

3:37 AM

You woke up sweating, panicking, hot, cold, tired, wide awake, hungry, full, thirsty, not thirsty.

You didn't know what was happening.

You forced yourself to fall back asleep.

it's around 12 PM when you wake up again.

You hope it was just a weird nightmare.

You realize you woke up late to breakfast, which was usually at 9:30 for you, so on your desk was some cold breakfast Alfred left for you.

While eating it, you thought about what happened.

Was it a dream? Was it a sign? Were you high?

You start walking in circles trying to figure out what it could all mean...it took you a while to realize you were literally upside down on your ceiling.

Oops?

Before you processed it, you panicked.Why are you on the ceiling? Why were you walking on walls? How were you walking on walls?

So many questions. No one to answer them.

After a bit of panicking and running around making a mess, you realize you sort of have powers.

You could stick to walls, that was one.

You could make webs, thats two. You could be a hero, like the others!

At first, you find it so cool!

..then you realized your father doesn't want metas in Gotham...

You decide to keep this to yourself, for now at least.

oml this is so short oops guys i swear im. tryigg my hardest but also im kind of a bad writiter 🙏

anyways the next one of these i make is most likely gonna be emu reader cause shes so silly

anyways

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dreamwavesexploringreality · 6 months ago

Text

A SECOND CHANCE

Chishiya x Reader

TW: Angst

------

"Where are you going now?" Chishiya asked from his spot behind the desk, not lifting his gaze from whatever invention he was currently working on.

"To Kuina's room. We're going to hang out since you're ignoring me," Y/N teased as she finished packing her backpack.

Chishiya raised an almost imperceptible eyebrow, still rummaging through the wires of the open walkie-talkie on the table.

The sound of the backpack's zipper closing made him lift his head, just in time to see her rushing out of the room. If it weren’t for the fact that he trusted Kuina, he might have started worrying that his girlfriend was leaving him for someone else—a fear that was becoming increasingly persistent during his lonely hours or when he saw her return after countless hours with a stupid smile on her face and sighs of longing. All that was missing was for her to start talking about how amazing the other woman was and how much she enjoyed spending time with her.

He knew Y/N spoke more to herself, thinking he wasn’t paying attention, when in reality, he absorbed every word, letting them sink into his soul and plant seeds of doubt in his mind. Doubts that were often dispelled with a soft kiss on the cheek and a promise to spend the next day together—a promise that never came to fruition. It was almost a tacit agreement between them: there was no need to be together all day to prove their love. They loved each other, and they knew it. That should be enough—or at least, it was supposed to be.

Chishiya sighed and stood up from the table. The screech of the chair dragging against the floor made him shiver. He stood still for a moment, his gaze fixed on his unfinished project, then took a deep breath and let his feet lead the way as he left the room with heavy steps.

He reached Kuina’s room and raised a fist to knock on the door. He froze mid-air when the voices behind the door grew louder. He sharpened his ears.

"What am I supposed to do if he doesn’t pay attention to me? He’s just like that," Y/N’s voice rang out, with a hint of frustration in her tone.

"Honestly? You should leave him. It’s not like he deserves you anyway," Kuina’s voice was unmistakable.

"Maybe…"

His arm fell heavily to his side, and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe. Was she really thinking about leaving him? Chishiya looked around frantically, making sure no one had witnessed his moment of weakness, and then ran back to his room, unwilling to hear anything more.

That night, when Y/N returned to the room she shared with Chishiya, she found it dark. Only the faint glow of the pool lights filtering through the window revealed the figure lying in bed. She approached cautiously and saw Chishiya’s serene face, deeply asleep.

She climbed into bed as quietly as possible, trying not to disturb his delicate slumber, and closed her eyes, unaware of the cold hand that hesitated to touch her as she sank into the mattress beside him, or the thousands of demons that had taken over Chishiya’s mind, turning his thoughts gray and pushing him into a silent chaos he couldn’t escape.

Morning arrived early, and when Y/N woke, she found the bed empty.

Chishiya’s side was cold, and a sense of unease settled in her gut. She got up in a hurry and left the room, heading toward the dining hall. It was still early, so it was nearly empty. Chishiya wasn’t there. She stepped outside and made her way to the pool—it was unlikely he’d be there, but there was no harm in trying. She was surprised to see him sitting at the edge of the water, his feet submerged, his gaze distant. No one else was around. The soft ripples in the pool, caused by his nervous leg movements, lapped against the edges with a gentle splash that filled the silence. She approached from behind and placed a hand on his shoulder. She felt the muscles beneath her palm tense, and the movement in the water ceased.

Chishiya turned, locking his gaze with hers, and in his eyes, she caught a glimpse of something she had never seen before. Doubt? Pain? Regret?

"Are you okay?" Y/N asked, concerned.

"Yeah," he replied in a hoarse voice. He coughed a couple of times to steady his tone. "What are you doing up so early?"

"I could ask you the same," she replied, sitting down beside him and dipping her feet into the water.

The sound of splashing filled the silence as Chishiya contemplated his options in his mind, finally settling on the one that felt most foreign on his tongue and made his chest tighten just thinking about it: the truth.

"Are we going to break up?" Chishiya cursed himself mentally for how broken his voice sounded, for how childish that question felt. This wasn’t like him, but for some reason, he became someone else around her—a person he never thought he’d be: a human with feelings.

"W-what are you saying?" He was startled by the fragility and concern in her voice. "Do you want to break up?"

Chishiya quickly raised his head to look into her eyes.

"No!" he replied faster than he would have liked, as if the word had escaped his mouth before his brain could process it.

Before him, Y/N was breathing heavily, her lips slightly parted, and her eyes slowly filled with tears that she quickly wiped away when her hand moved instinctively to touch his face.

"I heard you talking to Kuina… I know I’ve been busy lately, and I barely have time for you, but that doesn’t mean I don’t… that I don’t love you." The last words got caught in his throat, coming out as little more than a pained whisper.

"What are you talking about?" Y/N’s hand rose to capture his and intertwine their fingers. With a reassuring squeeze, she encouraged him to continue.

"I’m talking about how I ignore you, how I don’t deserve you…" Chishiya wished those words had stayed locked in the depths of his heart, where they replayed constantly in his mind. Saying them out loud felt like tearing his soul apart.

"What? No!" Y/N let go of his hand as if it burned and moved closer to him, cradling his face in her hands. Her touch felt cold, he noticed, though perhaps it was the warmth rushing through him at her unexpected closeness. "Chishiya, I… I wasn’t talking about you. I was talking about that new guy, the one I’ve told you reminds me of my brother… He’s out partying every night and then expects to perform well in the games and survive. I know his body will give out someday, and I don’t want him to die! He has so much life ahead of him, but he won’t listen to me, no matter how much I try to take care of him…"

He had stopped listening, captivated by Y/N’s face. He had missed her. He couldn’t remember the last time they had been this close, when he had her this near—so close that if he leaned in just a little…

He watched her lips as they moved while she spoke. His mind wandered quickly to the unspoken desire to feel them, to taste what he hadn’t realized he had been yearning for since the last time they had been this close. Without thinking too much, he leaned in. With his arms around her waist and hers around his neck, they finally closed the gap filled with unspoken words and lost time that had threatened to tear them apart. Merged in the reunion of their lips, time granted them a second chance.

----

Hi everyone!

I know I was supposed to post Unfinished Business Pt. 2 and Night in the Library, but I haven’t had much time these days 😅. However, this is a little piece I wrote a while back and never shared. Since it’s been a while since my last post, I thought it’d be nice to upload this for you. Don’t worry—the next thing I post will definitely be what I promised! 😊 Thank you for your patience and support! 💕

#aib x reader #alice in borderland #aib #niragi suguru #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x reader #fanfic #ao3 #arisu ryohei #kuina hikari #shuntaro chishiya x reader #chishiya alice in borderland #aib chishiya #shuntaro chishiya

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mercurial-chuckles · 7 months ago

Note

Steve Rogers x reader??

HIS FIORE - PART 4 (Final)

Summary: Steve smexy Rogers moves into the neighborhood, and one evening, he catches you sneaking into the building opposite his through the fire escape. He watches curiously, slightly amused and, quite frankly, amazed by you. Guess what he does next? He writes a note, signs it with his middle name, Grant, and slips it under your door. How will you discover that Grant is none other than Captain America? Series Warnings: Language | Eventual smut | Mature content (minors DNI) | Steve's naughty thoughts | Steve in-love Rogers | Steve possessive jealous Rogers | Drunk Steve (adorable, hot mess) | Neighbors | Secret identity | Steve watching the reader from a distance (slightly stalker-ish…ish) | No Peggy in my canon divergent universe | A smidge of angst | Overloaded fluff | Happy happy ending

A/N: Finally finished writing this! Originally, I wrote two parts as connected prompts for Steve Rogers Bingo Round 3, but I've decided to revamp the entire piece. Also, I'm going to try sticking to a schedule--wish me luck! 😉 Banner credits: Me | Photo credits: The internet | Divider credits: @buck-star (Sydney, thanks a trillion ❤️) This part is also an entry to SMUT-BER FEST! Thank you, Ro, for sending in the ASK. You have no idea how much I appreciate you! Thank you! I'm sorry for the super delay. @ronearoundblindly I hope you enjoy reading it.

Also, Smutty September Fest has transgressed into SMUT-BER FEST! Am I complaining? Not at all. So, all my darling hoes, if your muse is musing and you want to submit your story/stories, please feel free to do so. Late submissions are more than welcome! Be wild; have fun!

Note: Do not Steal, Copy or Plagiarize any part of my work! Check out my other works: Masterlist This part is Unedited! I will edit it as soon as I can!

His Fiore Series Masterlist

Indulge Away!

The evening was peaceful until it wasn't.

Jake and Hannah, your friends from college, were in town for a wedding. They surprised you in the afternoon, dropping by your office, and you all but squealed. It had been ages since you saw them. The last time you visited them in Seattle was after they had their second son, Erik, three years ago.

You had taken the afternoon off. The three of you went to grab lunch, and you invited them over to your place, where you talked for hours, reminiscing about the good old days. When you first met Jake and Hannah, it was in sophomore year of Material Science class. You three teamed up for a project. They had been dating each other since the first year of college. You three became quick friends and often kept in touch. They invited you to their wedding, which was right after graduation. They've been happily married for nearly a decade and have two wonderful boys.

As the evening settled in, you asked to cook dinner, but they disagreed, wishing to go out. You had suggested the Italian restaurant down on Benton Ave. You often order takeouts from there, and the food was quite delicious. Hannah asked you to join them, but you politely declined knowing they could spend some alone time in the city without the kids.

Jake called in to reserve a table for them earlier when you said they were usually busy on Fridays, and they were getting ready to leave when you heard the loud, insistent knock at the door.

You frowned, casting a glance at the time. It was too early for Steve to return. He said he had training going on.

The knock came again, more aggressive this time. You rushed over to the door, pulling it open slowly.

Steve stood there in his tight blue undershirt and khakis. His usual immaculate appearance was slightly messy. His short hair was tousled, and his face was flushed like he had just run a marathon. Knowing him, he might have.

You gulped.

Panic sparked in you as you quickly glanced over your shoulder, spotting Jake adjust the small duffel bag while Hannah was in the restroom. Without hesitation, you stepped forward and tried to edge the door shut, shielding Steve from view.

It was just to protect him, his identity. If Jake or Hannah caught even a glimpse of Captain America standing at your door, it would mean a lot of explanation and complications for him.

Steve frowned at you, leaning closer with one hand on the wall beside you; he framed you in the small space. He smelled so good. You instinctively inched back, trying to shield yourself from the overwhelming effect his presence had on your senses.

You looked up at him. "Steve," you started. "Not the right time, I have…"

But he cut you off abruptly, scoffing. "Yeah, I know." His voice was louder than usual, slightly slurred. He jabbed his long, pointed finger behind you. "There was... a guy," he gritted, "On your... your balcony."

That was when you saw the hazy look in his eyes.

"Are you okay? You look…drunk," you subtly sniffed him, he wasn't reeking of alcohol. And you also knew he couldn't get drunk. Confused, you stared at him to say something.

Oh, fuck. Did Captain America do drugs? Were there… super-soldier serum-resistant drugs?

"Everything okay there?" Jake's voice called out, and before you could respond, Steve was pushing the door open to your living room.

You stood motionless, appalled.

What the hell was Steve doing?

"Jake, have you seen this bookshelf? We…" Hannah's voice trailed off as she suddenly stopped in her tracks and took in the scene.

Panic surged in your chest.

Damage control. Damage control.

If Jake and Hannah were as oblivious as Terry, you could tell them Steve was your gym instructor who lived next door. Yeah, that might work. You squared your shoulders, preparing to sell the lie with all the confidence you could muster.

Thud.

"Holy shit!" Hannah low-key squeaked, her phone slipping from her hands and hitting the carpeted floor.

You winced. Well, so much for that beautiful plan. Now you couldn't sell the idea that Steve was your non-existent gym instructor. It seemed not everyone was as oblivious as you or Terry. Good for them. Not so good for you, though.

But again, it was Steve's fault. Who were you kidding? Those muscles and that that face without those glasses, or a hat would be a dead giveaway any day.

You stood by the door, racking your brain to deal with the situation better, more effectively, while Steve stood pressed by your side now, sending heat through your entire body.

"No fucking way. You are…" Jake started, amazed, and you thought of Steve's potential reaction. You expected he would give them a shy, friendly smile, scratching his neck, entirely too modest, and saying, 'Hi, Steven Grant Rogers.' Or something along those lines.

But your mind couldn't comprehend Steve taking two long strides toward Jake, towering over the 5'11" man, pinning him down with a stare, and rasping, "Captain America. I live next door."

You gaped. Something was terribly, terribly wrong. Oh, he just kept digging the hole deeper. You slapped a palm over your eyes, and shook your head, confused and shocked.

"Holy shit," Hannah repeated, amazed.

"Umm…right…yeah," you chuckled awkwardly, taking a step closer, leaning onto the small cabinet by the main door for some support.

"Steve," you started, clearing your throat, deciding to introduce your two flabbergasted friends now that he gave a dramatic, albeit arrogant, introduction. "This is Jake and his wife, Hannah, they are my college friends," you managed to say with much more semblance of control than you expected.

"Ah…wow…umm…hey there, Steve…Captain, it's an honor," Jake sputtered. Hannah stood there shell-shocked.

Steve tilted his head and looked at you, the frown transforming into confusion. Then, his eyes widened in slow motion. "Oh." He opened his mouth to say something, one hand on his hip, while he pointed a finger at you and then at Jake and moved to Hannah.

"Right…" he let out a garbled chuckle that sounded more like a snort. Steve cleared his throat, scratching above his eyebrow, and then licked his lips. You could see the pink coating his cheek.

"'S great to meet you," he muttered, nodding at Jake and Hannah.

You looked at Steve, confused. You haven't seen this side of Steve, not in the few months of knowing him as Grant, your note-sharing next-door neighbor, nor after he revealed himself.

What followed was absolute pin-drop silence and a lot of staring.

"I...uh, yeah," you started, breaking the silence, flustered, trying to keep your composure.

Jake, bless him, quickly gathered his composure and Hannah's hand and picked up the duffel bag and the fallen phone, "Yeah, we should get going. We have the…" he frowned, staring outside, most likely racking his brain for a word.

"Yeah, the reservation," you helped, your own stomach flipping uneasily. Jake nodded, grateful for the input.

And when they were at the door, you followed them outside, leaving Steve standing in your living room. When they looked at you, shocked out of wits. "I'll explain later," you pleaded, feeling a headache forming. "Please just keep it confidential," you requested.

After quick hugs, you bid bye and walked back to your living room to deal with the Captain fine-ass America, no, scratch that. It was Captain fine-ass-most-likely-high America alright.

Steve stood, hands both on his hips, rigidly jutting out all the muscles and veins, and your brain tremored in frustration for more than one reason.

You strode towards him, confused.

"Are you drunk? Did you do drugs? I thought you couldn't get high," you blabbered at him.

"I am," he chuckled, solemnly nodding and grinning at you charmingly. "Asgardian Mead, Thor gifted."

Thor? Oh, the burly godman Thor?

"Thor? As in God of Thunder?" you asked, keeping your thirsty description to yourself.

"Yeah, got real high real fast, 's good stuff," Steve shrugged, and you could see him sway on his legs momentarily, "I think I should sit down," he told you, and before you knew it, he was on the floor, his back to the couch.

"Oh, fuck! Are you ok?" you gasped, kneeling before him. He shifted his large form and tried to straighten up, one leg spreading beside you while he folded his other leg, and he leaned forward, grasping your right hand in his large one and caressing the inside of your palm with his thumb. You choked on your breath at the pleasure shooting down your spine.

He nodded thoughtfully. When he looked up at you from under those perfect, down-right criminal, long eyelashes, not breaking his gaze, you felt your insides churn.

No. No. Distance. You need distance.

"I'll get you some water," you told him, breaking the silence. He blinked, letting your hand go reluctantly.

You took a moment to yourself as you scrambled away to fill the empty bottle. You could feel his sharp gaze scorching your form.

The past few days had been great. Spending time with Steve felt wholesome, and you really had come close, and this time, it wasn't merely through notes. You both spent insurmountable time together, cooking, eating and talking, lots and lots of talking.

Though you'd been trying to get a grip on your feelings for him, things were much simpler to handle when your mind was not buffering or your heart racing out of your chest. While your heart did its thing, spending more time with him had your mind in better control. You were finally able to grasp that Captain America, the living legend, was a simple man who was too sassy and stubborn for his own good. And he was willingly spending time with you. And that he was a sinfully gorgeous, walking green flag of a man.

Now that very man was sitting on your living room floor, likely out of his rocker, and high on burly man's mead.

When a few drops of water spilled on you, overflowing from the water, you shut off the valve and walked back to him, handing him the bottle. He eyed the bottle briefly before taking it and gulping down a few sips.

"What's going on?" you asked.

He looked up at you with a shy almost guilty-looking grin and pulled you closer, his grip firm on your forearm, and you landed ungracefully half on him and half on the floor, and despite his state, he steadied you.

Dear mother of sweet Duckburg! Those thighs felt rigid.

"Steve," you squealed, pushing yourself off him and moving away hastily, but his grip on you was unwavering. So, you settled for sitting closer and not straddling on his lap.

Even though he was sitting on the floor, slouched against the couch, and you knelt before him, Steve's broad frame still towered over you. The mere size difference was sending your mind unholy signals.

Nope. Don't go there. Don't you fucking go there!

"What the hell's going on?" You asked again, voicing your desperation and frustration.

"I saw him on your balcony. And I didn't... I didn't like it." Steve snickered, throwing a glance towards your balcony.

"Wh…what?"

"I thought you were going on a date with him," he finally said, more like hissed.

"You got drunk on some Thunder god's mead because you thought I was going on a date?" you asked, incredulous.

Steve winced, shutting his eyes and nodded.

Your breath hitched. An overwhelming warmth bloomed in your chest, making you gulp, leaning more of your weight on one arm that was not held in a super soldier grip.

"Steve..." You didn't know what to say, your mind reeling. You pulled your hand free, and thankfully, he let you.

"I heard him talking about dinner reservations. I thought…" He trailed off, staring at the floor. "When I heard... I heard him," he muttered again, "And I thought, 'Why isn't it me?'"

You froze. "What?"

"I wanted it to be me," Steve bit out angrily, his sharp jaw clenching as his gaze turned distant. A hint of sadness lingered in his half-lidded blue eyes. Your heart skipped a beat.

Why was your rational brain not working? Oh, for god's sake, this was not Quantum Gravity. Steve was hinting at being jealous. He liked you, right?

You felt butterflies swarming your entire body. Warm, hungry butterflies, heating you up.

You scoffed at the absurdity of the situation. "Why?" You asked though you were grasping the why. "You're not making any sense," you said, trying to dismiss it as drunken rambling, but your heart wasn't listening.

No. Don't say it, Steve. No.

"I like you, like a whole lot," he murmured, pushing himself off the back of the couch and leaning closer to you. The heat of his breath on your cheek, his intoxicating smell captured your senses and pushed them into overdrive.

"No, 'S not true…" he whispered, his lips ghosting your cheek. He shook his head, chuckling, making you shudder at the sensation, and you stared at him in confusion.

What's not true? Was he making fun of you? Was this a prank? Your entire face heated up. Steve leaned even closer, his lips grazing your ear, and you bit your lip, your breaths coming out shallow. He cradled your jaw with his large palm and whispered the words you'd thought you'd never hear in any possible reality. "I love you." And he kissed your cheek, gently. The way he set your heart ablaze with that simple touch of his lips on your skin was unbelievable.

"Steve," you whispered, appalled and slightly worried, but he cut you off with a slight shake of his head.

How can you trust any of what he was saying? He was drunk.

You moved out of his grasp, beyond breathless, searching his eyes, your heart racing as you stared at him in disbelief.

"Your happy place…the one you told me about when I had that really bad nightmare. I want to be there with you, just you and me, I want to hold you close while we watch the rain together in our cozy home," he continued softly. Your insides twisted, and you sat there, wide-eyed, clinging to every word he spoke.

"I'll even learn to make the perfect coffee for you," he added with a small, dreamy smile. The vulnerability in his voice tugged painfully at your heart, and your eyes blurred with unshed tears.

"No, stop," you cried, unable to take any of this. What if tomorrow comes, and it will all shatter?

"But… it's the truth, doll. I love you, and I never felt anything like this in my long, painful existence," he said with conviction, wrapping your heart with more of his words.

You shook your head, unable to control your emotions, your tears flowing furiously.

"I'm sorry…I didn't want to make you cry," he soothed, wiping away your angry, helpless tears. His eyes blurred, sighing heavily, exhausted.

"Give me a chance, sweetheart, and I will prove to you how perfect we are."

You were only human, and when a man you had feelings for confessed to you, you couldn't help but break down before him. He gathered you in his arms, pulling you into his lap effortlessly, securely, and held you as you cried into his shoulder.

You didn't dare hug him back; you couldn't because you were scared to hope. Your arms stayed beside you as he soothed you so gently.

No. NO. Don't you dare believe all this? He was not really in his senses right now. What he drank was not even like human alcohol. Maybe it made you see things you didn't want to or say things you didn't intend to.

"You're sleeping this off." You muttered, clambering out of his hold. You cleared your throat, and composed yourself, "We'll talk about this later."

Steve nodded, a frown marring his perfect face. He managed to stand up and got onto your couch with little guidance. He flopped face-first onto it, legs hanging outside, mumbling incoherent words into the cushion.

You stared at the giant man, reeling from the shock of his confession. You stood there for a long moment, bewildered. Gathering some strength, you went to your bedroom and brought the blanket for him. You flung it over him carefully, tucking the blanket.

Eyes shut, Steve reached for your hand and gently grasped your shivering palm into his fist. You awkwardly crouched over him and tried to pull away, but he stubbornly held on. You saw the faint smile on his smushed face on the pillow. Sighing, you settled on the floor before the couch, letting him hold you and consume your thoughts.

"'S nice." He mumbled, getting comfortable and drifted off to sleep, his breathing slow and steady.

You freed your palm from his grip after almost an hour. You picked up the water bottle on the floor and downed it whole. You could use some mead right about now. Maybe not Asgardian, perhaps the human version.

A wave of shock coursed through you as the whole thing came rushing to you. Emotions still running high, you collapsed onto the chair beside the couch.

You felt happiness bubbling in your chest, thrashing in waves as your mind processed. You thought he was just being a good friend, but could you hope; hope that what he said was all true? If you were being honest, you knew how you felt. He was everything you ever wanted. Could you love him wholly? Captain America…Grant…Steve?

You had been trying so damn hard to make sense of your feelings, hoping, praying, that they would become a simple celebrity crush after he revealed he was Captain America. Denying the feelings was easier to save yourself from heartbreak, but now he throws this whole thing at you.

Maybe it was your fault. When he pushed that note underneath your door the first time, you should have knocked on his door instead of grinning like a fool and weaving into starting the whole note-sharing.

You looked at his sleepy form, his lips slightly parted as he slept peacefully, completely erasing peace from your life. You wanted to smack his stupidly perfect face.

A small smile tugged at your lips as you adjusted the blanket over him, which slipped off when he moved around.

"I'll be here in the morning," you whispered softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead.

And for the first time that night, when you laid your head on the pillow, as chaotic as it was, you allowed yourself to hope.

Steve woke up with a pounding headache. He hadn't been this drunk in a lifetime. It took him a few minutes to open his eyes, and he groaned in pain, sitting up on the soft couch. Not just soft, it smelled like you, soothing his senses a bit. Why did it smell like you in his apartment? Why did he smell like you? He wondered, dazed, and then he looked at the blanket.

He frantically looked around, confused, and the memories of the previous night came thrashing, jumbled.

Steve winced in disdain as he remembered the guy, the mead. Then…

"Son of a bitch," he paled as things shuffled in his head from last night, he confessed to you, and a small memory vividly stood out in his mind: "We'll talk about this later." You said with a tear-stricken face.

Shit. What had he done? He'd ruined it. Didn't he? Of course, she doesn't feel the same, he thought bitterly. Why can't he seem to understand the definition of patience with you?

His gut twisted with guilt, embarrassment, and anger at himself, at his lack of control. You were asleep in your room. He hastily got up, held the blanket close to him one last time, and left before you could see him.

The frustration of it all formed a storm in his chest.

When you woke up, Steve was long gone, and all you found was a perfectly folded blanket and a note:

Thank you for letting me stay. I'll see you around. – Steve.

And your heart did break reading the note. Of course, he didn't mean what he said. It was just the mead talking. You felt stupid for hoping.

For the first time ever, you despised the weekend. You couldn't simply face him or his presence, even if it was separated by a wall.

So, you did the only thing you could think of, get out and stay out as long as possible. You roamed through the city, weaving in and out of touristy spots, hoping for the noise of the crowd to temporarily drown out the tumultuous thoughts.

You checked your phone now and then, half-expecting it to ping with a message from Steve. Maybe he had an important mission or something that needed his attention, which would delay the inevitable conversation.

But the phone remained silent. No text. No call.

You wandered through the streets, walking aimlessly, letting the hum of the city distract you from the ache inside. But eventually, the noise inside you won, and the crowd wasn't helping you anymore.

When you finally parked your car in front of the building at 12:30 am, to your utter shock, you found Steve trudging up the steps to the apartment entrance. His body was stiff, and you could see the bruises and the blood. Your gaze caught his, and your eyes widened in shock. He seemed to not expect to see you.

And he was hurt badly. Shit. He was really on a mission.

"Steve?" you called, hurrying out of your car, forgetting about the whole ordeal while all you could think about was him being hurt. You briskly crossed the small road, calling out his name, but he didn't stop walking.

"Steve, wait!"

But hurt Steve Rogers was faster than you as you saw the elevator display show 5 by the time you reached the elevator doors.

"Why the hell are these so fast?" You muttered, the irony of your statement not lost on you. Just a few days ago, you cursed the same elevator for being too slow. You pressed the button again and again and again, annoyed at the elevator and him.

Once you reached your floor, you didn't hesitate to march to his apartment, heart pounding. You didn't know if it was frustration, concern, or a mix that fueled your actions.

You were just living your simple life before he decided to wreck it. You were doing just fine, dealing with your affection for him before he confessed.

His face was a blend of exhaustion and irritation when he opened the door after your incessant knocking.

He stood in his white undershirt, bloodied and bruised, and your heart tugged with concern.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice clipped.

You blinked, momentarily thrown off. "I…what? You're hurt, for one. Why the hell are you not at the hospital?"

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "I'm fine." Then, in a quiet voice, he whispered, "Why do you care, neighbor?" His petulance was gnawing at your nerves, irking you and the question struck you harder than you expected, and your breath hitched.

"Steve," you said, your voice barely audible. "You are hurt." You stared at him, bewildered and angry.

He was hurt. How could he expect you not to?

Something shifted in his expression, exhaustion, maybe. Whatever it was, it broke the dam between you, and the words you'd been waiting to say spilled out.

"What is wrong with you?" you snapped, throwing your hands up.

Fuck him and his attitude.

"You come to my apartment, drunk on some stupid mead, confess your feelings, leave me with a cryptic note, and then fucking vanish for the whole day! Do you not remember anything, neighbor?"

Steve's brows furrowed his expression hard. "Of course, I remember," he shot back. "I poured my damn heart out, made you cry, and it…it hurts."

The sheer audacity made your jaw drop. Your breath hitched. What? Your frown deepened, and the anger consumed you more.

Pointing a finger at him, "Hurts?” Your voice rose, incredulous. "Captain Rogers, you were drunk off your ass! You scared both my friends half to death, confessed out of nowhere, and then you expect me to what? Tell you how much I love you? I waited, Steve! I waited for you to come to your senses so we could talk like fucking adults!" you gritted the words out, feeling satisfied to throw it all on his face.

He stared at you, his confusion palpable, but his tone stayed defensive. "Wait a second! You were the one who said, 'We'll talk later,' like it didn't mean a damn thing!"

"That's because you were fucking out of it, slurring your words!" you yelled back, your face heating, neck straining to have to look up.

The two of you stood there, breathless, glaring at each other until realization struck Steve like a bolt. His posture stiffened, his blue eyes widening as if seeing the entire situation in a new light.

"Hold on a damn second," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose, his voice quieter but no less intense. "You don't hate me?"

"What?" you exclaimed, exasperation lacing your voice. "Where did you even get that from? And, why else would I be here, chasing you down after you practically ghosted me if I hated your dumbass?"

"And... you just said you…" His words faltered as his gaze locked onto yours.

The silence fell between you. You blinked, realization hitting you with equal force.

I poured my heart to you, and you dismissed me! Steve's words came like lightning.

"Oh, God," you murmured, your face flaming. "So, you do umm...whatever you said, you meant it?" You asked.

Steve froze, his eyes wide, but then his face softened into the most breathtaking grin you'd ever seen.

The tension broke like a snapped string, and Steve let out a low, almost disbelieving laugh, dragging a hand through his hair. "I thought you didn't feel the same," he muttered, his voice thick.

You stared at him, the sheer misunderstanding making you want to scream. "And I thought you regretted it!"

He stepped closer, "The only thing I regret," he murmured, his eyes burning into yours, "Is touching that damn Asgardian mead. I swear I'm never going near that stuff again."

A soft laugh bubbled out of you without volition. He wrapped an arm around your waist, hissing, and your focus shifted to his bruises. "Steve…" you sighed, heart racing while you felt a huge weight lift off of you.

His lips curved into a soft, tender smile as he leaned in, resting his forehead gently against yours, careful to avoid the gash on the left side of his face. His voice was low, filled with warmth. "For the record, I don't remember everything I said to you last night, but drunk or not... I love you."

Your breath hitched, but your hands found their way to his chest, clutching the fabric of his shirt. "Damnit, Steve!" you grumbled softly, affectionately, tears blurring your eyes.

His grin turned boyish as he pulled you into his living room before shutting the door just as the distant sound of Mrs. Reindell's door squeaked open.

Before he could take another step towards you, you pointed to the couch with a stern look. "We'll talk, but first, sit there. You're bleeding."

Steve raised a brow at your tone, his lips twitching in amusement, but he complied, sinking onto the couch. You noticed the tension on his shoulders and how his body sagged as if he was barely holding himself together.

"Where's your first aid kit?" you asked, scanning the room.

"I'll get it," he offered, starting to rise.

"Oh, no, you don't," you interrupted, placing a hand on his shoulder and pushing him back down. "Sit your ass down and stay. Now tell me where it is."

He chuckled lowly, clearly enjoying your bossiness far too much. "Third shelf, left side, linen closet."

You gave him one more warning look before heading down the hall. His apartment was neat. Too neat. Everything had its place, down to the neatly folded towels in the linen closet. You grabbed the first aid kit and returned, noticing Steve watching you with an amused expression.

"What's so funny?" you asked, settling on the coffee table and setting the kit beside you. "Nothing," he said, leaning back against the couch, that maddening little smile still in place.

You chuckled, pulling out antiseptic wipes and gauze. "Take your shirt off. I need to see the damage." Steve didn't say a word except for the slight tilt of his lips. You froze for half a second before narrowing your eyes.

He grinned but obeyed, pulling his shirt over his head with ease. As much as you'd steeled yourself, the sight of him shirtless hit you like a truck. Muscles corded his chest and arms, marred only by the bruises and scrapes from wherever he got those from. You bit your lip without thinking, but when his gaze flicked to your face, you quickly composed yourself, focusing on the task.

Steve was enjoying this far too much.

"What happened?" You started cleaning the wound on his chest, and then the gash on his face, your touch gentle.

He tilted his head to give you better access, his lips quirking into a soft smile. "Hazard of the job."

"Doesn't mean you shouldn't care for yourself. Why are you not at the hospital? Does your insurance not cover tomfoolery?" you muttered, moving to inspect his arms.

"Smartass," Steve chuckled, shaking his head. You giggled.

"You're really not denying the lack of tomfoolery then?" You pointed, your fingers brushed over the bruises as you worked, but just as you went to recheck one of the wounds you'd cleaned, you realized it was already healing.

You blinked, looking up at him in surprise. Steve shrugged, his smile turning a little sheepish. "Serum."

You frowned, "That doesn't discount you for not taking care of yourself, Steve," you retorted, shaking your head.

"Is it hurting anywhere else?" you asked, your eyes scanning him for more injuries. It was both strange and fascinating to watch the cuts and bruises fade before your eyes, his enhanced healing working its magic. Steve shook his head, silently watching with that intense look.

You packed up the first aid kit and stood to return it to its place, and Steve followed close behind you, his presence warm and steady.

You paused, your hand resting on the linen closet door as you put away the kit.

When you turned, he stood so close, his expression unreadable, yet his eyes burned you, waiting. For a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you thick with tension.

"I do love you if that didn't register in your super soldier brain," you said with a small smile.

Steve looked away, shaking his head. "You drive me crazy," he rasped, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. His bare chest rose and fell in heavy breaths. He shut his eyes, and the way his jaw ticked told you he was restraining.

Your own heart picked up.

When his eyes finally met yours, their heat was enough to steal the air from your lungs. It wasn't just a look; it was seeking permission and a promise, and you realized you'd gladly surrender to him.

He closed the distance in a single stride, crowding you against the wall beside the closet door. The solid surface met your back as his left hand planted firmly above your head.

He leaned in, his movements deliberate and intense, the tip of his nose grazing the side of your cheek. The contact was featherlight, but it sent a shiver down your spine, leaving you trembling beneath him. Your face and ears heated up, and you were sure you were blushing.

His rich and warm scent enveloped you, anchoring you to the moment simultaneously unraveling your composure.

Steve moved his right hand, his thumb traced your chin, and your lips parted, eyes closing shut. His palm cradled your jaw whole with a tenderness that contrasted with the sheer intensity radiating from him.

"You're so gorgeous, doll," he murmured, the words laced with such honesty you could cry.

Your breath hitched as your eyes met his darkened blues, turbulent and reverent. The weight of his gaze held you captive, your heart pounding in your chest.

Instinctively, you reached out, your hand hovering over the expanse of his chest, avoiding the gradually healing bruises. The heat of his skin radiated against your fingertips, the light dusting of chest hair teasing the expanse of your palm.

He caught your wrist in his larger hand, his grip firm yet gentle. The sheer size of his palm dwarfed your entire forearm, his thumb brushing slow circles over the delicate skin of your wrist, drawing a whimper from you. Then, carefully, he guided your hand to rest fully against his chest, pressing it over his heart.

"Feel that?" he whispered, his voice low and rough, placing a butterfly kiss on your forehead, before tilting his head to rest his forehead against yours. Underneath the warmth of his muscular chest, his heartbeat thundered beneath your palm, erratic and unguarded.

"You do that to me." He murmured, his lips hovered so close to yours that you could feel the warmth of his breath, his words stirring the air between you. Your mouth went dry, and you licked your lips, and his gaze moved to them.

His nose flared as he mimicked you, licking his own lips. Before you could lean in, he was moving. His lips touched yours gently first, and he let out a groan, fueling you with such intensity, burning you with a simple touch.

You really did that to him. That thought unraveled you, and you eagerly moved onto your tiptoes, hands finding purchase in his soft blonde locks. His hands moved to the side of your waist, and he pulled you closer and straightened up, lifting you off the ground, holding you by his one arm wrapped around your waist, and he ran the other hand down the back of your thigh, and you wound your legs around him. Your body pressed into his delectably.

He took your mouth into another kiss, a low rumble reverberating from his chest as he pinned you to the wall, one arm carding through your hair as he held you firm.

"You taste so good," he murmured, breaking the kiss momentarily before kissing you again passionately. Steve's tactile pants couldn't hide his arousal as he hardened against your stomach.

Your pussy fluttered, and you moaned into his mouth, breathless and completely needy, addicted to everything that was him.

The way he nipped your lips and pushed his tongue against you felt unreal. You never had a kiss that good. Never.

Steve pulled apart slightly, allowing you both to breathe. His breath came out in spurts, heating up your skin, and you searched his gaze expectantly, the hazy and happy grin on his face etched in your core memory.

"Steve," you whispered, rubbing your thumb against his lower lip, and he shivered.

"Not done with you," he rasped, his hand lifting you up to keep you at the level to his mouth and he kissed you with more vigor and fuck, you were completely drenched.

You both parted from the kiss again, breathless, and he leaned into your neck, nipping the skin at your throat and your head fell back, arching, giving him access while your legs tightened around him. Steve placed a few wet kisses along the expanse of your neck before adjusting you in his arms, his one hand winding around your back and rubbing the side of your boob while his other hand moved to hold your ass as he squeezed it tightly, surprising you, and you felt his hardness against your clothed pussy.

"Holy shit!" Your cry synced with his loud grunt when he rocked against you. His forehead rested against yours, "Eyes on me," he demanded, and you obeyed.

"Will you let me love you? Every inch of you?" He asked softly, reverently, and when you nodded, reciprocating with a roll of your hips, his jaw clenched, teeth gritting as he thrust against you with a bit more force, and you were reaching your high. Oh, god!

"Words, please," it was really funny how he could be sweet and sinful all at once. "Yes…but don't fucking stop, Steve, I'm so close," you confessed unashamed, unbothered, breath hitching as he rocked you onto him. Your pussy clenched around nothing, and the friction felt just perfect.

"That mouth," he chuckled darkly, lowering his head into the crook of your neck as he nipped your skin. You moaned.

Steve moved up, looking at you for a beat long when he thrusted with a bit more force and saw your lips part, letting out a breathless cry. He groaned, taking your lower lip between his lips and sucking on it gently, and his grip around your ass tightened as he rolled his hips. You felt the heat of his touch, and the pleasure consumed you all at once. You cried out loudly, body arching as you gripped his shoulders.

Steve didn't slow down, though, "God, your smell…" He grunted and sped up, thrusting incessantly. His hands grazed your hardened nipples over your bra and squeezed. Your pussy clenched at the new sensation he was evoking while still dry-humping against you. Not so dry because you were sure you were soaking through your leggings.

His hand moved to cup your ass again, squeezing tightly, and you shivered, succumbing to another orgasm, falling into his arms, whispering, crying his name.

"Fucking perfect…" he cursed, breath hitched as he nipped your jaw and moved to ear. "I love you," he whispered, placing a kiss on your earlobe, his sharp nose caressing down your neck, his mouth placing kisses down the path, and you trembled in his arms.

His hand moved to your tit, and he squeezed gently at first, and when you moaned lewdly, he palmed it with a bit more pressure, repeating the same on the other one.

You had no idea when he carried you to the bedroom and placed you gently on the neatly made bed, and you leaned on your elbows, moving back to make space for him on the Queen bed. He switched on the table lamp by the bed, and that was when you saw the dark blue mark on the lower part of his back that you had missed earlier.

"Steve," you called out in concern. Shit! What were you doing? He was hurt and still healing.

"Wait…" you started, unable to formulate a bloody sentence because you were fucking buzzed from the orgasmic high, and Steve stiffened, his muscles clenched visibly as he turned to you, looking worried.

"Did I hurt you?" He asked you in a soft, concerned voice.

"No…" you smacked yourself. "No…no…no…that was absolutely best," you chuckled. Steve relaxed his stance, moving closer.

Your gaze dropped to his body. "You're hurt, we should…maybe stop… some medicine…" you were cut off. Steve quickly climbed onto the bed, straddling your thighs and taking your lips into another deep, languid kiss, consuming your doubts and thoughts. You let yourself fall back on the mattress, letting your weight settle completely.

Steve broke the kiss to murmur against your lips, "Right now, I need you more than anything else. My bruises will heal soon, I promise," he whispered, leaning down to kiss you again tenderly, and your idea to wait it out evaporated from your brain when his heated kisses sizzled your skin.

"Can I remove these?" he asked, nuzzling your throat, his fingers dipped on the side of your pants just at your hip bone. Steve's touch felt hot on your skin, and not enough; they were so close to your pussy.

"Please," you begged, and you helped him remove your pants along with your panties. And when he dragged them down, you removed your shirt.

When you moved to remove your bra, his hands stopped you, and he turned you onto your stomach before pressing his palm on your back, "So soft," he whispered, moving forward to place a tiny kiss on your shoulder and trying to undo the clasp, but he wasn't able to get it out.

When you looked over your shoulder, watching him struggle, you giggled. The dexterous Captain America was struggling with a bra strap. He rolled his eyes and plucked it again. It tore away to your utter shock, "Sorry," he said, removing the bra and simultaneously turning you onto your back.

"Are you, though?" you asked shyly as he pulled your bra completely,

leaving you completely naked for him. The coolness of the room suddenly hits you, sending goosebumps all over your body. Your nipples hardened even more.

Steve sat back on his knees, straddling your thighs, and he let out a groan lazily, watching every inch of your skin.

"No, I'm not, far from it," he winked, dazed in lustful haze.

Steve splayed his large palm on your upper left thigh and squeezed it, making you clench in need.

"So pretty, like a painting," he whispered, taking your hand and kissing the inside of your palm, and you whimpered as his fingers caressed your wet folds. His thumb circled the nub. "Steve," you cried.

"Yes?" He asked, looking up at you, so fucking innocently, searching.

"Stop teasing," you moaned, earning a whimper from him when your own hand reached down to caress him over his pants. Steve let out a growl, moaning loudly, his head thrown back as he cupped your pussy firmly, and your grip on him tightened involuntarily, and you moaned in delight, your legs wiggling. You moved to sit, effectively pushing him slightly.

"You're overdressed," you said urgently, needy hands moving to his pants.

"Am I?" he chuckled, voice raspy, he moved to hold your tit, squeezing your waist and you moaned.

Steve moved to take your lips in a searing kiss. Quickly moving into a plank position, he efficiently removed his pants without breaking the kiss, discarding his pants with a single hand.

That was pussy flutteringly impressive.

You pulled apart from the kiss and dragged down his boxers, and Steve kicked them away and the sight of him completely naked made you moan, and you trembled beneath him; his sheer strength made you gasp.

Fucking Adonis!

Steve looked at you, expectant and unsure.

"You're so beautiful," you told him in awe, eyes trailing the length of him. He grinned at you happily.

You wanted to touch him, taste him, take him in your mouth, feel him fall apart.

He was girthy, long and beautiful. "Can I?" you asked, and he nodded, slightly shy at the first touch, "Son of a bitch," he cursed falling over you. He quickly steadied himself. Your small hand wrapped near the tip as you pumped, smearing his precum and rubbing it along, and he groaned into your shoulder, sinking his teeth into your skin, not too hard but enough to leave your mind screaming in pleasure.

When you gestured your intentions of getting on your knees, Steve understood, but he shook his head and whispered against your mouth, "Later. I need to feel you, please," he gritted out, and you nodded but didn't stop rubbing him. Steve, however, moved your hand, bringing it back, still holding himself in that plank position.

Fuck, he was so strong. He moved around lithely.

You simply were incapable of saying a word when he rubbed his fingers so delightfully over your folds, evoking pleasure. He pulled your other hand, clutching at the sheet desperately entwined his large fingers with yours, and held it beside your head. He pushed a finger gently, and you cried, voice hitching as he slowly pushed it to his second knuckle. He pumped it inside you, and when you begged him to fill you up, Steve growled.

"So beautiful," he groaned, placing a kiss on your cleavage before kissing the swell of your left boob before he sucked on it.

You waited impatiently as he lined up at your entrance. Steve stilled, though, looking at you with concern. "What's wrong?" you asked. Steve leaned against your forehead, sighing heavily, jaw slightly clenching. "I do not have any protection," he said. It took you a hot moment. Right! Condom.

"Steve…umm… I'm clean, on birth control…if that…I haven't been with anyone in a while if that's…" you felt absolutely stupid blabbering. Quickly composing, you took a deep breath, not focusing on his bare cock against your pussy. You looked up at him, "We don't need to do this now…" but Steve frowned, cutting you off and claiming your lips in a quick kiss.

"No, that's not what I want. If you are okay, I don't mind. I'll pull it out, I promise. I…I haven't been with anyone. My medical is all clear, too," Steve added, his cheeks flushed a little more.

You smiled, nodding, looking up at him.

"Stop me if it's too much," his soft command registered through the haze of desire when he slotted himself at the entrance, pushing the tip inside. Your body went rigid at the feel.

"FUCKING HELL," he yelled, clutching the pillow in a death grip. "You okay?" he managed to say, breathless, the unruly lock of hair falling onto his forehead, making him even more perfect. You nodded, trying to breathe.

"Move…" you mouthed inaudibly, and he pushed a little more. You moved your hands to his pert ass, encouraging him to push in more because, dear god, you were incapable of getting a word out of your mouth.

Thankfully, he was reading every tiny expression on your face, and he rocked a couple of times before fully thrusting inside. He stilled, mouth parted, head thrown back, his eyes shut tightly for a second before he let out a loud groan. Your own eyes pinched close. The sudden intrusion and his mere size felt slightly uncomfortable and overwhelming.

"Too much?" he managed to ask you despite looking like he could rail you onto the mattress. He stilled, waiting.

You took a few steady breaths. "Move," you whispered, and he rocked experimentally a couple of times. And the unease of being so full faded as you clenched around him needily. The pleasant ache in your belly burgeoned, spiraling, building to thrash you into an all-consuming orgasm.

Your head thrashed onto the pillow as you arched, hands moving carefully to clutch his shoulders, avoiding the bruises.

"Sweetheart, can you look at me," he rasped, and your heart tugged at his plea. You mustered your courage and opened your eyes, which were ready to roll into the back of your head. His face contorted in pleasure as his thrusts turned languid, and he leaned down, moving close to your lips.

"Such a good girl," he said, making your breath hitch and your pussy clenched around him tightly. "Nngh fuck," he chuckled.

"Steve," you moaned, winding your hands around him as you pulled him closer. When he searched your eyes with concern, you bit your lip when he stilled.

"I can take it, Captain. You don't have to worry. I'll stop if it's too much. Okay?" you managed to say between heavy breaths. His jaw clenched, his hands moved to the back of your right thigh, tapping, and you wound your legs around him, the angle making you both moan loudly. You tried to twist your foot away from the bruise you remembered on his lower back.

Steve seemed to realize your plight. "Shit, doll, don't worry, just…hold on tight," he grunted, and you did. He moved your wrists above onto the pillow and held them there with his right hand while his left hand moved to fondle your tits.

You moaned when he rolled his hips into you, and he didn't hold back, rutting into you with such force that if he wasn't holding you down, you would have moved up and off the bed.

"Steve…fuck…fuck…," his every thrust hit the spot that had you seeing stars. When he moved his hand away from the tit to your lips, you captured his thumb in your mouth, rolling your tongue and sucking on it, moaning. Steve's breath hitched; his hand tightened on your wrists while he fucked you into the mattress.

The pleasure built inside your tummy, and your lips parted. He moved his finger out of your mouth, and you cried at the sensation.

"Yes, fuck, you're squeezing me so good," he gasped, and your orgasm overtook every fucking sense in your body. Steve's hips stuttered against your hips, and when you looked at him and smiled giddily, he grinned, sitting up on the bed straight and carrying you up with him. You sat in his lap with him still nestled inside you so delectably. The new angle had you clenching on him tightly.

His hands moved to clutch your neck, and he pivoted you closer as he claimed your mouth for another kiss. It was sloppy, rough, and you fucking loved it. You tried to move on his dick, and he moaned into your mouth.

"Perfect for me," he sighed greedily, pulling you in for another kiss and thrusting up into you, and you squealed as he hit your cervix deeper. He stilled, checking on you. "All good," you managed to squeak, and he nodded, thrusting up.

"Fuck fuck fuck… don't stop," you chanted as you felt yourself careen and your orgasm consumed you. His veiny cock dipped into you just right as he moaned lewdly into your ear, not stopping his movement. Steve waited till he saw you blink at him, and just as you came down from your high, he pushed you onto your back, folding your legs at the knees, and pushed them close to your chest and rocked into you. You watched in awe as he flushed red, a sheen of sweat covering his brow, and his beautiful gaze held yours.

"I'm…"

"Let go," you nodded, and his biceps flexed, and he growled your name loudly before he came.

Fuck, that's a lot of cum. Probably a super soldier thing, you thought, moaning in delight as you felt the delicious friction of his cock splaying his cum on your pussy.

He huffed, breathing heavily, his eyes closed, a small smile playing on his lips as he leaned down and placed an open-mouthed kiss, his breath heavy on your mouth. When he came down from his high, he rested his forehead against yours.

"Are you okay?" he asked, blue eyes searching yours, his voice softer, raspier.

You chuckled, the sound light and full of warmth. "Okay is an understatement," you said, grinning.

His lips curved into a smug smile as he kissed your forehead softly.

"And you?" you asked, tilting your head slightly.

"I feel like…" He sighed happily, placing a lingering kiss on your neck. "I've died and gone to heaven," he murmured, then laughed softly, falling onto his back, and pulled you onto him, not bothered by the mess you were both making.

"I love you," he said against your lips, his voice low and reverent.

"I love you," you whispered, the words carrying all the affection you felt for him. He chuckled, his chest vibrating against yours, before capturing your lips in another kiss.

Much later, you both lay cuddled after he helped you clean up. Steve put you in his t-shirt while he was in his boxers. He was still hard as a rock, and you had tried to help him out, but he shook his head, saying he needed to hold you close first, and you needed some rest. As the room grew quieter, he spoke softly. "You know, I was so worried I would mess it up."

"Mess it up?" you asked, your curiosity piqued.

"With you… um, sex…" he said, his voice uncertain.

"Sex?" you repeated, resting your chin upon his bare chest. The lights were off, casting the room into a beautiful cozy ambience.

He looked at you, his arms instinctively pulling you closer. "I… I've never done that before…" he admitted, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

"Sex?" you repeated, sitting up slightly and propping yourself on his chest to look at him. Your brows shot up in surprise, the faint glow of the streetlights illuminating your wide-eyed expression. "Wait, that was your first time?"

He gave you a sheepish shrug. "Uh… yeah," he said, avoiding your gaze.

"As in, after thawing?" you asked curiously. He snorted, clearing his throat and throwing you a deadpan look.

"Oh, god, like ever?" Your stunned squeak came out garbled. "Doll," he groaned, smushing his face in the crook of your neck.

You blinked, processing his words before a smile tugged at your lips.

"Hold on." You gestured dramatically but were not able to say anything.

You couldn't hold back the giggle bubbling up in your chest.

"Oh my God, it's an honor to serve under you, Captain!" you teased, your grin downright wicked now.

"Hey!" he cut you off, his hands flying to your waist as he flipped you onto your back, pinning you beneath him. The sudden movement made you squeal, laughter spilling out of you.

"Keep laughing, and I'll show you just how much of a quick learner I am and am bloody efficient," he said, his voice low and playful, the heat in his eyes making your laughter catch in your throat.

Your giggles subsided into breathless chuckles as you reached up to trace his jawline. "I'm not laughing at you," you said softly, though the smile on your lips remained. "I'm just… shocked. I mean, that was incredible. You were incredible."

He relaxed at your words, leaning down to nuzzle your neck. "I was worried…"

"Oh, I noticed," you teased lightly, earning a groan from him. "But honestly? That just makes it even sweeter. And kind of… hot," you admitted, your voice dropping to a whisper.

"Yeah?" he asked, his lips brushing your collarbone now.

"Yeah," you replied, threading your fingers through his hair. "But, uh, just to clarify…" You smirked. "You're not planning on being a one-hit wonder, are you?"

The laughter that rumbled out of him was low and infectious as he leaned back to look at you, his blue eyes sparkling warmly. "My darling Fiore," he murmured, his voice dripping with mischief. "I can do this all day."

There there...HIS FIORE IS DONE! YAYYY!

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depravitycentral · 6 months ago

Text

Tw: mild misogyny, physical assault, sexual harassment, he's icky nasty

“Y’know, you get this look when you’re mad.” He starts, and you straighten, back going taut as you wait for him to continue. Your back is to him, and you’re painfully aware of the heavy sound of his footsteps, slowly approaching you with a pace that makes shivers prickle along your arms.

“It’s like…” He starts, a noise following that you can only assume must be contemplative. “It’s like you’ve just missed the last train, or maybe someone cut you in line and got the last soda. It’s angry, sure, but it’s more like you’ve given up, if that makes sense.”

You peek at him, now, out of the corner of your eye. You’re not sure what brought this on – he’d just been out to get a coffee from the campus café, promising to be back in a few minutes. That’d been thirty minutes ago.

Working on the project together hadn’t been your choice, but when he turned to you in class and nudged you, quirking his brows and promising to work real hard, you’d merely shrugged, genuinely ambivalent. You didn’t know anyone else in the class, only taking it as an elective, and it was supposed to be pretty easy.

“See, you’re doing it right now.” He snorts a bit, and now you fully turn to look at him.

“Thirty minutes? The café’s next door.” You’re a little irritated, sure, but not terribly so. Working on the project wasn’t exactly your idea of fun, either.

He winces, eyebrows drawing together, but offers you an apologetic smile. “Yeah, yeah, sorry about that.”

He sits down next to you, the otherwise empty classroom making the squeaking chair echo. The smell of coffee fills the room as he sets down his own cup, steam billowing from the sipping slit. You’re about to open your mouth to ask him if he’s finally ready to get started, but when he places a to-go cup down in front of you, too, your mouth snaps closed.

“Just guessed what you’d want, sorry. For whatever it’s worth, your drink’s the one that took so long to make.”

You glance at him, finding his gaze already stuck on you, but you just smile a bit. “Okay, forgiven.”

He laughs, clapping his hands together in a praying motion. “Thank god.”

Your laptop’s open in front of you, and for a few minutes the only sound filling the room is the clicking of keys and occasional sipping. Much to your surprise, he’d managed to select a drink you didn’t mind. Taking a small sip, you sighed at the flavor. It was cold in the classroom and the warmth was welcomed.

“So, what are you thinking for colors? I like my PowerPoints to be pretty, but if you want it to be more simple then that’s okay.” You look over at him as you finish, watching the way he bites his lip.

“Mm, maybe black and white? Y’know, just real simple. Simple’s always good.” He winks at you, and you slowly nod.

“Okay, uh, sure.”

Truth be told, you didn’t know much about your seatmate – he’d ran into class five minutes late the first day, quickly rushing into the closest open seat which happened to be next to you. You’d been a little irritated at first at how his stuff sprawled out and invaded your space, but he seemed nice and was decently participatory in class, making you grow a bit fond of him. Besides, the professor always looked so thankful when he was the only one to raise his hand – and for that, you could let his more questionable behavior slide.

“You’re doing it again, you know.” He starts, a finger coming out to poke at the side of your arm.

Jumping, you whirl on him. “What?”

“Doing your angry-but-not-really face.”

“I’m not mad, I promise.”

“Sure, sure. Then hopefully you won’t be mad if I do… this.” He starts, before reaching out to flick your pencil over the side of the table.

You’re frozen for a second, before staring at him blankly. “What the fuck?”

He grins. “I just wanna see if that look gets worse when you’re for real irritated, y’know?”

You sigh, reaching down to pick it up off the floor. Fixing him a look, you cross your arms. “Better? Because I am definitely irritated now.”

He appraises you, leaning a few inches closer. “Mhm, just as I thought! Your lips get thinner, and your eyebrows get all tight.”

Rolling your eyes, you turn to face your laptop again. You only get a few words typed before he’s snickering under his breath, voice low as he mutters, “Most guys think that’s pretty unattractive, just so you know.”

Immediately you stop typing. Maybe partnering with him wasn’t such a good idea after all.

“What’s your problem?” You ask, and he looks at you again, hands poised over his own keyboard.

“What? Sorry if I hit a sensitive spot – girls are so weird about stuff like that. You’re pretty, don’t worry.”

You stay staring at him, and he only snickers. “Yeah, that’s it. That’s the look I’m talking about. Kind of kicked-puppy, like you’re real sorry for yourself.”

Standing up from your chair, you set your hands on your hips and face him. “Okay, listen you ass, I don’t know what you’re playing at, but I’m not dealing with this shit.”

You start to gather your stuff, but your partner only laughs a bit, before reaching out and flicking your pencil once more, this time a little bit further. With a huff, you smack at his arm and set your things down with a loud thud onto the wood, moving to the side of the desk and bending down to pick it up.

He’s quicker than you’d expected, given the frumpy sweatshirt and sweatpants he wears that hide the muscular physique underneath.

Hands encircle your wrists before you can think, body rotated harshly, back hitting the linoleum floor with enough force to knock the wind out of you. He’s above you, strong thighs caging your legs together underneath him. Your wrists are held up above your head, his single hand large enough to keep them pinned there. It isn’t until now that you realize just how tall he is, or how strong.

“What the fuck – “ You start, struggling and wiggling in his grasp. With growing panic, you realize you’re not able to make much progress, his muscles feeling like stone against you. A hand quickly comes down to slap over your mouth, muffling any yells or screams.

He’s staring at you, expression blank, something heavy simmering behind his eyes. Slowly though, the corner of his mouth tilts up, and it spreads, something resembling a grin stretching across his mouth – though his eyes don’t change.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’ve got a filthy mouth?” He asks, voice a bit quieter now, more of a whisper and deeper somehow – deep enough to make you freeze, momentarily stopping your struggle. His eyes are sharp, scary, too much – he’s too close to you, leaning closer and closer and making you press yourself harder and harder against the dirty classroom floor.

He laughs again. “But that’s okay, I like that about you. It’s like you’re wild, like you’re untamed. Real.” His eyes flash. “Raw. Ha, I just know girls love to hear that word.”

Your eyes go wide, the insinuation making your struggling pick back up again. You’re thrashing, but he only squeezes at your jaw, tutting at you.

“Nuh-uh, none of that, okay? And don’t worry,” he throws you a smile that makes your eyes feel wet, your nose tingling, “I’m not gonna do that. At least, not here. Y’know, I’ve got a little bit of decency, I know girls like mattresses, pillows, and shit like that.”

He licks his lips. “Anyways, back to that mouth of yours…”

Quickly, and without any warning, the hand over your mouth shifts up and down, two long, curling fingers plunging past your lips and laying heavily against your tongue.

Your face twists up, eyebrows knotting together in disgust because his fingers taste like salt. He grins again, and to your horror, his fingers start moving. Rubbing against your tongue, pressing down and down, the pads of his fingers feeling like sandpaper against you.

“You always get a look when you’re angry, sure, but did you know you get this look when you’re really happy, too? It’s like you’ve seen something Earth-shattering, like it’s something almost holy.” The fingers move and angle under, rubbing against the soft underside of your tongue, down and pressing against the space underneath your tongue. He shudders. “They say this part feels like pussy. That true?”

You can’t move, can’t even breath as he shoves his fingers down deeper, moving to run over all of your teeth, a whistle slipping past his lips. “But you’re real pretty when you’re smiling, you know. Makes me wanna stare at you. When you answer a question right and professor tells you ‘exactly!’, you get this big grin and it’s damn cute. Always staring at those lips of yours – they get thinner when you’re smiling, y’know? Stretched taut, always makes me think what all they can do. Just how much they can stretch, if you get what I’m saying.”

You do, but you wish you didn’t, and he must know that because his fingers move to dip into the lower corners of your mouth, slipping between your back molars and your inner cheeks, prodding and poking at the juncture between gum and cheek. “Pretty, pretty, pretty. Even like this – you’re puckered, which I guess isn’t the same thing, but I like it.”

He hums, taking his time as his fingers dip and poke at every inch of your mouth, running over every bump and curve of your teeth, pinching your tongue between his finger pads, thumb rubbing circles against the underside of your chin.

“Do you like this?” He murmurs, those eyes locked on the motion of his fingers inside your mouth, the imprint visible against your cheeks. He licks his lips again. “I’ve heard some girls like shit in their mouth. Obviously I think my cock’d be better, but this works too. Works for me, that’s for sure.”

He laughs at that, shifting his hips forward, and you whimper when you feel what you can only assume is his erection against your thigh. His nostrils flare at the sound. “Fuck babe, that’s good. Do that again.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying desperately to pretend you’re somewhere else, but his grip on your wrist gets tighter, tight enough to hurt and oh ow ow ow –

You gasp around his fingers, the sound choking, and he whines lowly in his throat. “God, you’re fucking pretty. Your smile’s good, but you look good like this too, just so you know. All scared, shivering and squirming around… Ha, see? This is kind of like that angry face I was talking about. All terrified and self-patronizing, feeling back for yourself.”

He cocks his head to the side, fingers pushing in even further in a fluid motion, reaching to touch the back of your throat, making you gag. He bites his lip. “Kind of pisses me off that you’re so afraid of me, but I get it. I can forgive you. Besides…”

He leans down, nose nudging at the juncture of your neck and shoulder. Something warm and wet lolls out to run in languid strokes along your skin, the tee-shirt you’re wearing doing little to deter him. In fact, he takes the hem between his teeth, sucking at the fabric and letting his hair brush against your jawline. You shut your eyes again.

“I know what will make that face even better, how you’ll get even more angry.”

You stop, dread filling every muscle in your body.

He laughs against your skin, nibbling lightly and smiling at the way you jolt away. “Remember how I said I like your smile? How I think it’s just so damn pretty?”

You’re too frozen to move – not like you could, anyway. The linoleum feels especially cold against you.

He grins, pulling back to look at you. He presses a kiss against his hand, right over your lips. “Well, when we met up today and you looked at me like that, smiling at me – at me, I mean, what was I supposed to do?”

His cock’s pressing against your thigh again, humping lightly as it grows harder, bigger, more insistent. “I know you’re not stupid. Coffees don’t take thirty minutes to get. So you know what I did with the other twenty minutes, then, right? C’mon, you’re smart, think about it.”

He’s staring at you again, mirth swimming in his eyes. “Let’s just say my refractory period is damn short.”

Immediately there’s bile climbing up your throat because the salty taste of his fingers – his right hand, no less – is all too strong now, the smell of his pinky pressed up against your nose musky and heady and god, you’re going to be sick.

He’s quick to press harder against your mouth, though, tutting against at you. “Oh, don’t worry, I washed my hands after the first round. But then your drink was done, and I couldn’t keep you waiting, right? After all I know how you get when you’re mad.”

He sighs, leaning down to press his forehead against yours again. “Now, about that mouth.”

He grins, eyes sparkling as he ruts against your thigh and asks, “On your knees or on your back? I’ll let you choose, babe.”

Atsumu Miya, Kenji Futakuchi, Takahiro Hanamaki, Shoyo Hinata, Tetsurou Kuroo, young Enji Todoroki, Tomura Shigaraki, Kaigaku, some flavor of Tengen Uzui, Ryusei Shidou

#_lee rambles #yandere haikyuu #yandere bnha #yandere kny #yandere bllk #yandere mha #yandere blue lock #_whole cast #_bnha #_kny #_haikyuu

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gloomskulls · 6 months ago

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚LIMERENCE PT 2 [tasm!peter parker x reader]

pairings: tasm!peter parker x reader

part 1

⇢ ˗ˏˋ SUMMARY ୨୧ after finding the courage and the balls to ask you out, Peter couldn't help but test the waters.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ WARNING ୨୧ reader is drunk and drunk people cannot give consent), terribly written smut (i'm a virgin i'm sorry, I have no idea what goes on actually in the bed), oral (fem receiving), drinking, drunk reader, overstimulation, everyone is 18+ here lemme know if I missed any. MINORS DO NOT READ

If you don't want to see my dark stories in the future please block the tag #madi: dark content

A/n: I'm sorry this took a whole ass while, it's probs 90% story and 10% smut. Like it's probs shit, the smut's the reason why I couldn't finish this sooner because I had no idea where it was going. Also tried to write 2012 slang, idk if it even sounds right. don't steal any of the shit I've written or else I'm going to turn you into Victoria Heyes from terrifier ❤️🫶/srs

Peter shuffled in his sleep. Tossing and turning. Sleep never found him, how could it? He did something so unforgivable. Having an obsession with someone who barely acknowledges your existence is one thing, but sneaking into her house, completely crossing every single line, and then jerking off to the scent of your panties while imagining you on top of him, riding him as you creamed his cock with your cum.

The air felt heavy and there was an almost stifling silence in his small bedroom, while his mind worked in the manner of a broken machine, looping thoughts.

Every single thing about you — your laugh, the spark in your eyes when you spoke of something you loved, the way you uttered his name — his mind kept replaying like a broken record. Each one felt as fresh as if it had just taken place a moment ago, and each one pulled at something deep within his chest.

He had spent years arguing with himself about what he was doing. He told himself that viewing you from a distance was merely innocent fascination, a little crush. But that had been a lie. What he had done the night before, sneaking into your room was not a mistake; it was a deliberate decision.

Peter was filled with doubts, a regular person would call him lovesick, a creep even. Is she really worth it? Peter admits something he'd been avoiding for a while.

He wanted you.

Not as a classmate. Not as a partner for a stupid project. He wanted you in a way that was raw and desperate and consuming. Oh, he wanted you to look at him the way you look at the rest of the world with trust, with affection, with the same ease that made you laugh at his dumb jokes.

The realization hit him hard. The weight of it sank into his chest like a boulder, but there was a rush of something else too-something darker, more intoxicating.

Peter sat up abruptly, there's only one way or another, heart hammering as he snatched up his phone. Tapping out a quick message, he did so with trembling hands.

"Hey, u free 2nite? Was thinkin maybe we could finish the proj & grab dinner after. My treat. :)"

He stared at the screen, his thumb hovered over the send button. The fear crept back in, whispering in the back of his mind. What if she thought he was crazy? What if she rejected me outright? What if everything he'd built up in his head came crashing down?

Many thoughts crowded his mind, neither of them was good

As he stared at the text, his finger quivered. His stomach tightening in knots. The reply was already forming in his mind—would you say yes? Or perhaps he was weird for asking, for suggesting anything other than school?

But what if he didn't ask? What if he kept on pretending that this crush wasn't eating him up from the inside?

I've got to do this; he tried to steady his breath. This would never come again.

Deep breath and then Peter clicked "send."

Time seemed to stretch into eternity. His mind was racing, spinning out into the worst-case scenarios. You could just say no or even laugh it off and tell him it wasn't a good idea. It's a biology project, after all. That's what it was supposed to be—right?

That crumbled page of biology scraps lay on his desk as evidence of the project you both were working on. It was supposed to be a simple collaboration, probably will last for a few weeks if he was lucky, and then he'd just go back to being invisible to you.

But he didn't want to go back to being invisible.

He sat there at the edge of the bed, hunched over in an awkward position, his elbows rested on the stretched knees, and he stared his phone, convinced that at any moment it would leave his grip. He had typed the message, the own words glowing brighter as he waited.

He had redone it like at least a dozen times, but all versions felt way too casual to too formal. His current message was just right; friendly, innocent enough but still an invite.

What if you think it is strange? What if you don't even reply at all?

He shook his head to stabilize his breathing. It's alright, he told himself. His not asking for something crazy. It's only a dinner.

But it wasn't just a dinner. It was the convergence of years of quiet yearning, stolen glances, and missed opportunities. This was the first real step toward something more, if only he could find the courage to take it.

He shunned his phone flat on the bed thinking that might ease the tension in his chest, but it didn't. His heart raced as seconds ticked by on the clock, each second feeling like an eternally long wait.

What if you didn't reply?

What if you did?

His thoughts were interrupted abruptly as his phone buzzed.

He grabbed it with trembling hands.

"Sure! I'm totally in. Where r we meeting? 7?"

He read the message over and over again: You're saying yes. Relief was an actual weight that was just lifted as disbelief flooded him as he blinked at the screen, rereading the message to make sure it hadn't been imagined.

For a moment, he allowed himself to smile, but it quickly disappeared. Now that he got the answer, a different kind of panic struck.

What happens next?

"Yea 7’s cool, I’ll pick u up @ ur place"

He looked up at the clock-6:30. In thirty minutes, he needed to get ready. Thirty minutes within which he needed to figure out how not to screw this one up completely.

Peter fell out of his chair and quickly rifled through his closet for something fresh and unique that didn't look like it had just been thrown on five minutes ago. His room was strung out in a mess of hoodies and T-shirts that didn't do any good as he tried on piece after piece-each feeling wrong.

"Relax," he murmured at himself while gazing at his reflection in the mirror. Hi hair looked like he just crawled out from under the bed, his face was red, and no matter how many adjustments he attempted on the clothes, he still looked like the awkward kid he'd always been.

Peter raced around his pod-sized room in search of a shirt that didn't scream "high school loser." The bed was a battlefield littered with crumpled hoodies, a checkered flannel, even his Midtown Science Academy T-shirt.

"Peter?" Aunt May's curious sounding voice called out from the hallway.

"Yeah?" he shouted back while looking through his closet and listening.

"Why does it sound like a tornado hit your room? Are you okay in there?"

Peter groaned and threw another hoodie onto the pile he was amassing on the bed. "I'm fine!"

The creaky door slammed open a moment later, and Aunt May peeked her head in. Her sharp eyes traveled the disaster area that was his room, from the piles of clothes, and even down to the one sneaker he was wearing.

"Uh-huh. Fine." She crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. "What's all this about? A wardrobe crisis?"

He sighed at her and rubbed the back of his neck. "Nothing serious, okay? I just… I'm going out."

May raised an eyebrow as her lips twitched as if trying hard not to smile. "Going out? As in… on a date?"

"What? No!" Peter's voice shot up as he spun around, waving his hands. "It's not a date! It's just dinner. For a project. With a friend."

By now, she wasn't even trying to hide her grin. "A 'friend,' huh? Is this the same 'friend' you've been talking about nonstop since this biology project started?"

"I don't talk about her nonstop!" protested Peter, turning into a shade of tomato. "Oh, you definitely do," Uncle Ben countered from outside the hallway and into the room, sporting the knowing smirk of someone who has heard too much. "Half the time, it's, 'Oh, she's so smart,' and the other half is, 'She's so good at this lab thing.'" He said with a dreamy tone

"Okay, okay, so I get it!" he groaned while burying his face in his hands. "Can we not do this now?"

Ben laughed and slapped Peter on the shoulder. “Relax, kid. We are just teasing, and you've got this.”

May walked into the room and picked up one of the forgotten shirts from the bed. Holding it up, she said, "What is wrong with this? Nice but casual, not slobby."

Peter squinted at it. "It's too—I don't know; plain?"

"Plain is better than looking as if you are trying too hard," she said, tossing it to him.

Uncle Ben nodded sagely. "It's right." "You don't want to go full tuxedo on a first—uh, not a date," he added quickly, holding up his hands when Peter glared at him.

Peter huffed but pulled the shirt over his head anyway. "You two are the worst," he muttered, though his tone lacked any real bite.

May smiled and reached out, smoothing the collar of his shirt. "We are not the worst. We are just proud of you. It's good to see you putting yourself out there."

"I'm not—," Peter began, but Ben cut him off.

"You are," Ben said firmly. "That's a good thing. Just be yourself, Pete. If she's as great as you say she is, she'll see what we see, a smart, kind, slightly awkward but very lovable kid."

Peter's face burned. "Yea, you really know how to give a pep talk."

"Hey, it worked, didn't it?" Ben fired back with a grin.

May handed Peter his second sneaker. "Here. Don't forget this, unless you're planning to really impress her with your one-shoe look."

Peter rolled his eyes but could not quite hide the grin that crept onto his lips. "Thanks, Aunt May."

So Ben called after him as he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. "And remember, kid—Italian places usually give you breadsticks first. Don't fill up before the main course!"

Peter groaned loudly. "I'm going now! Bye!"

He was there, at your door, heart pounding heavily, as if wanting to burst out from the body. He lingered for a while, staring at the doorbell.

What if this is a mistake?

But before you could think otherwise, the button pressed his finger.

And then echoed the sound of the bell from inside, and Peter felt that the earth would open up and swallow him whole in an instance. He heard footsteps, and then the door opened.

There you were.

"Hey, Peter!" you said, smiling that effortless way that made his breath catch in his throat, stepping aside and gesturing for him to come in. "You're right on time, I just need a minute to grab my bag."

Peter managed a small smile and stepped in, wiping his sweaty palms against his jeans. "Yeah, of course. Take all the time you need."

You disappeared into another room, leaving Peter hanging awkwardly at your door, his eyes darting about. It was a very warm and inviting house, in harmony with the kind of person you were. The faint hum of a television in another room was muffled, someone talking, and he could hear that easily.

Your presence returned with your bag slung around your shoulder and you ignited the nerves again in Peter.

“So,” you said, smiling at him, “where to?”

Peter hesitated just a beat too long, his mind scrambling to come up with an answer. "Uh, I was thinking Italian? That okay with you?"

"Italian sounds great," you said easily as your smile widened.

Peter's heart raced as you stepped out the door, walking beside him toward the small restaurant a few blocks away. The night air was crisp, and for the first few minutes, he was too caught up in his own head to say much. But then you started talking, asking him about his day, about the project, and the sound of your voice eased some of his tension.

You made him feel like he belonged, even without having a word to say.

When the restaurant came in sight, Peter turned to you. Nerves still there but mixed with something else: a quiet and hopeful excitement.

Maybe just maybe, tonight will be the beginning of something real.

The walk to the restaurant was such a nerve-racking experience. Each step Peter Parker took beside you felt like a step closer to something he wasn't ready (or was actually hoping for). His hands buried deep in his jacket pockets, fingers curling and uncurling, while trying to keep steady pacing alongside you.

But you appeared to be at full ease. You talked about the cool evening, how the trees' leaves were beginning to rustle with the cold wind blowing, and even the faint smell of roasting chestnuts from a street vendor a few blocks away. Peter heard everything, nodded, and punctuated things now and then with the occasional "Yeah" or "Totally," but as for his thoughts, they were running wild within him.

This is well. This is the standard. This is alright, He didn't over hypothesize for the hundredth time.

As much as there was relief in now having something solid to focus on, Peter was panicked that it all became real at that moment.

He opened the door for you, his hand trembling slightly as he held it.

"Thanks," you said, giving him a swift smile before stepping inside.

"Uh, yeah. Of course," Peter mumbled as he hung his head and followed you in.

The hostess took you to a corner besides the glass window, a cozy little spot with a flickering candle in the middle of the table. Peter's hands trembled as he took the chair and gestured you to sit on it.

The menu in front of him could be in another language as he stared dumbly at it, words bringing into a blur while the thoughts buzzing in his head were getting harder to put to rest.

Don't be weird. Just be normal. What does "normal" even mean? Stop overthinking! You've got this!

"This place is nice," you commented as you scanned the menu. "How did you discover it?"

"Oh, um, my aunt used to like it here," Peter said, grateful he could answer such a question. "She says the lasagna is the best."

You grinned. "Aunt May has good taste. I will try that."

He nodded, yes, but could not stop the rush of nervous thoughts flooding his mind. He glanced at the menu as if studying it although he already knew what he would order. But his mind was instead filled with every possible thing he could screw up tonight.

Don't talk too much; don't laugh strangely; don't look like an idiot.

Here came the waiter, and you ordered effortlessly, laced with a polite smile as you handed him the menu. Peter stammered out his order and felt his palms sweat as he gave it. When the waiter walked away, Peter could feel your eyes on him, and it took everything he had to meet your gaze.

"So," you said, leaning in with elbows planted on the table, chin cradled in palm, "what's your thing, Peter?"

"My thing?" he said, taken aback. "Like, my thing?"

"Yeah, like… what do you do for fun? What are you really into doing when absolutely no one else is watching and judging?"

Peter blinked, trying to think of something that wouldn't sound lame. "Uh, well, I like photography," he said. "And science, I guess. Experiments, stuff like that."

You perked up. "Photography? That is cool. What kind of pictures do you take?"

"Mostly city stuff," he said, his voice gaining a bit of confidence. "You know, like weird angles, shadows, reflections. It's probably not that interesting to most people."

"I think it sounds interesting," you said. "I would love to see your pictures sometime."

Peter's heart was pounding so hard. "Really? Uh, yeah, sure. I mean, if you want."

That made the conversation flow more easily. You told him about your love-hate relationship with math, how sometimes you spent too long procrastinating by watching cooking shows instead of doing your homework, and how one time you tried to make crème brûlée and almost burned your stove.

“I had to open every window in the house,” you said, laughing. “My mom came home and thought I’d burned dinner. I didn’t tell her it was supposed to be dessert.”

Peter grinned, feeling just a little bit more at ease. “Maybe stick to cookies next time, huh?”

“Noted,” you said with a mock-serious nod.

Then it was time to eat. You both started digging into it while still keeping up your conversation. Peter quickly found himself becoming much more relaxed, finding it absolutely easy to talk to you when he didn't over-analyze every word. You burst into laughter each time his jokes finished, and whenever his eye fell into yours, everything around faded.

There was little doubt that he was doing this because he was desperate enough to strike a topic that wouldn't make him sound like an idiot; this was the reason why he asked, "You, uh, good with the whole project?"

You leaned back, fiddled with the napkin on the table, and said, "Yeah, it's actually been fun. Well, I mean, we work well together, and you're much smarter than I had thought."

Peter blinked. "Wait, you thought I wasn't smart?"

"No, I just-" You smirk, it's clear you're enjoying his reaction. "You always seem kinda… busy with stuff, you know? You're not exactly the loudest guy in the room."

"Well, I, uh…" Peter rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I'm, uh, more of a behind-the-scenes guy. You know, less talk, more… action?"

You laughed, the sound light and easy, and Peter felt himself get a little more relaxed. Maybe you weren't judging him.

'This place have wine?' you ask all of a sudden, not looking up from the menu.

Peter blinked. "Uh… I think so?"

You smirked and put your feet up on the table after throwing the menu on it. "Perfect. I could use a glass."

Peter was at a loss on how he should respond. It just didn't seem like the kind of person who would order wine to go with dinner-at least, not in his limited and admittedly romanticized view of you. But when the waiter came by, you ordered an entire bottle without hesitating, barely glancing at Peter for confirmation.

"Um, yeah, sounds good," Peter said weakly, even though the thought of drinking anything stronger than soda made him nervous.

The waiter nodded and disappeared, leaving the two of you alone in an awkward silence.

But the waiter was back again, this time with a bottle and two glasses, which he laid down with a polite smile. And before you knew it, the deep red liquid was already swirling around in your glass because you had poured it in haste from the bottle.

Want some? You asked, already halfway through your first sip.

“Uh, maybe later,” Peter said.

You shrugged and took another long drink before putting the glass down with a satisfied sigh. “Suit yourself.”

The most casual kind of conversation developed between you: you asked Peter about what he was interested in, and he managed to stumble along throwing together great lengthy descriptions about why he loved photography and science, and the words came out too fast for him to think them. It almost seemed like you were listening to him, however, because he went on to nod before even asking follow-up questions, which made him for the first time in a long time feel that he wasn't entirely invisible.

By that time, he was becoming aware, as the hours slipped away, that you were filling up your glass more and more often. The bottle was now half empty when the food came, and you were already sporting rosy cheeks when the alcohol was pouring into your system.

“This is good,” you said, hardly bothering with your plate in order to gesture with your fork at it. "I mean, really good. Good call, Parker.”

The smile that appeared on Peter's face was that of nervousness. "Thanks. I'm glad you like it."

Now you leaned back in your seat, holding your glass up to the light. "You know, I don't really do stuff like this. I've kind of never had dinner with classmates. It's just a little… weird, you know?"

Peter sank a little. "Weird, how?"

"Not bad weird," you said immediately by waving your hand. "Just… different. Like, generally, I would just be at home watching some lousy reality show and trying to forget how much homework I have to do."

Peter chuckled, even though he had no idea what to say next.

After a sip of wine, the boy looked up at Peter who immediately landed his gaze upon the bottle. You seem well into your first glass with a heightening sense of ease that you appeared to be at his home. Maybe it was because of the wine or perhaps how you were looking at him right now-not with judging spectatorship but with a strange kind of understanding that made him feel as if he were not really out of place.

It was only a count of seconds before the food arrived while you already had a second glass in hand. Peter's stomach flipped at that moment. This wasn't the way he was used to seeing you, all loosened up and speaking without that slight guard he usually saw when you were around. You appeared different tonight, and Peter couldn't quite figure it out if it was a good thing or not.

However, the conversation was still going on, only that as soon as you took a few more drinks, conversations shifted to more profound, much more personal things. Laughter spilled from your lips more freely, although Peter saw that smiles were now somewhat uncontrollable. Maybe it was the wine; maybe it was just the ambience. In any case, he could feel something shifting, like you were letting him see this version of yourself you weren't sure he was supposed to see.

"Peter", you said, looking at him with wide eyes after a long sip. "What's your big dream? Like 20 years from now, what do you see yourself doing?"

He shifted around uneasily on his chair. And that question was sudden, a little more intense than he would have reckoned it to be. He was not used to being asked about his future like this.

"Honestly?" said Peter, leaning back a little and looking down at the half-finished plate in front of him. "I don't really know. I think- I think I want to do something with science, or photography. Maybe combine. Don't know really. Just like, I want to fix things, you know? Help make the world a little less broken.''

You were quiet for a moment, and Peter wasn't sure whether it was because he'd said something wrong or whether you were just thinking. But when you finally spoke, your voice was softer, almost quieter than before.

"I think that's really admirable, Peter."

That was it. That one simple sentence hit him harder than he expected. He wasn't used to compliments like that- not from you, not from anyone. The words were a strange dream, and for a second he just looked dumbfoundedly at you trying to really understand what you mean.

Peter had never imagined the night to go this way. Not even in a million years. But here he was, walking alongside you, swaying slightly on the sidewalk with less steadiness in your step than before. Surprisingly, the wine had hit you faster than he figured, and he wasn't so sure if he should be concerned or just chalk it up to the kind of night it had turned into.

"Hey, I'm-" You hiccupped, laughing lightly at your own clumsiness. "I'm fine, Peter. Really."

But Peter wasn't so sure. His instincts were whipping him into overdrive-the same ones that always made him want to leap into action when something was amiss. "Yeah, I don't think you are," he said, trying to keep it light. "Let me just walk you home, okay? Just to make sure you're good."

But you rolled your eyes, with an almost sheepish smile you gave in, "Fine, fine. I get it. You're worried about me."

"Yeah, I am," Peter said, his voice a little quieter than he intended. "But you're my responsibility right now, okay?"

You exhale a small laugh, and Peter can't help but take note of how completely giddy it sounded, a little like you weren't quite sure where you were or what you were doing. You leaned against him, and then Peter was surprised at how easily you let him help you with that.

The way home was otherwise silent except for the occasional trip and the muttered apologies from you. But Peter didn't mind it, sensing closeness, although strange. Everything was just weird tonight. The brushing of your hand against his as you reached for your keys. That laugh of yours that wouldn't leave his ears. The vulnerability you seemed to wear in your eyes at that moment.

So, then you reached your door, and you suddenly stopped and stood there, fumbling with the keys in your hand. Peter moved closer but silently offered to help. You shook your head.

"I've got this," you said, though your words were slurring just enough for Peter to catch the uncertainty behind them.

After much effort on your part, the door finally opened. You leaned in again, and Peter nearly lost his heart as he had to rush forward to steady you.

"Whoa, take it easy," Peter said catching you as you stumbled. "Let me help you."

You smiled up at him, glassy and unfocused. "I'm fine, Peter," you slurred. "Just a little…tipsy."

Peter chuckled and guided you up the walkway to your front door. "Tipsy, huh? Well, let's get you inside and safe, then."

As you both reached the front door, you fumbled with your keys and Peter had to gently take them from your hand and unlock the door himself. You smiled up at him, your eyes sparkling with amusement.

After some time and a couple of tries, she got the door opened.

"Okay, inside," he said, his tone a little more powerful now. You did not resist him as he helped you through the door, but there was a strange sadness in your eyes that twisted Peter's stomach.

You moved slowly to the couch and finally sank down on it; the wine was exhausting. Peter stood near the door for a moment, wondering his next move. He wanted to shoot his shot, his thoughts wandered to somethings more inappropriate. Wasn't this all about getting you safe? Ensuring you did not end up passed out somewhere in a big, messy pile of sheets and regrets.

"Can you just… stay for a bit?" you asked quietly, with barely a whisper.

Peter hesitated. He didn't want to go too far, and he couldn't just leave you here, not looking so…fragile.

"Yes," he spoke softly, entering then into the living room. "I'll stay for a bit"

You nodded at him, gazing at him with tired eyes. "Thank you."

Peter perched on the edge of the couch; his hands awkwardly balanced on his knees. What a strange space there was between you two now, strange in that it was so very close, yet so far away. He wanted to be of some use and ensure you were okay, and yet the way the glance kept coming from you in that direction somehow felt… off. It was like walking on a fine line.

Peter looked at you longingly, you were so beautiful.

Too close and too perfect, he found himself sitting next to you, and Peter felt the pressure of so many things left uncommunicated fill his chest. He needed to do it. He needed to say it.

"Peter?" Your voice was a soft whisper, a little uncertain. Wine had aided this whole relaxing process, yet made almost everything feel slightly out of focus.

Peter swallowed, heart pounding in the chest. He wasn't entirely sure if it was the alcohol that has found narrate in your system, or if it was the raw honesty of the moment, but he knew very well it was now or never, the one chance to say all he had kept bottled up for months.

"Yeah?" he whispered, getting closer so that he was almost against you now.

"It's just that, I… I'm sorry if I've been too much tonight," you said, your words slightly slurring as you allowed your gaze to drift over his face. "I didn't mean to get that drunk."

Peter felt his breath hitch in his throat. "It's fine," he said, his voice softer now. He could feel his palms sweating, his heart racing faster than ever. "I just… I just want to make sure you're okay."

You smiled up at him, but it was a little foggy, and Peter could tell that the wine had dulled your clarity. Still, you were so beautiful, standing there, looking at him with those eyes—eyes that made him feel like he mattered.

Peter took a sharp breath and let a sudden breath of air come out. It was as if a magnet was pulling them together, and he was drawn to it. "So, uh– I was thinking…" He hesitated for a moment, then recovered his composure, trying to calm the trembling in his hands. "I've been thinking about you for a long time. Like, longer than I should have."

His brows knitted further in confusion as Peter quickly realized that the rest of the sentence was failing miserably in getting through your mind, as if the actual words were swimming around in it, suspended in fog. He stepped closer, unable to stop himself.

"If I—" He let out a shaky breath. "You know, I've been loving you for so long now. And tonight, I couldn't hold it anymore and just… broke the dam."

Your expression shifted slightly. Confusion clouded your gaze. You blinked, trying to piece together his words. "Wait, what?"

Peter took a step closer, completely incapable of holding himself back. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, and he felt the heat between you intensify. He reached out, his hand brushing gently against your arm. "I love you," he whispered again, barely able to breathe. "I love you so much, and I've been too scared to say it. I've watched you for so long, and I—" Peter stopped mid-sentence as he looked at you, eyes looking like a lost puppy.

"You're so beautiful, so so beautiful" He leaned in, your face was so close to him, his lips brushed against yours. He held your face as he licked your lips.

You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin with just the proximity of Peter's face to yours, and the goosebumps it sent down your spine. Those eyes were filled deeply with a longing expression and captured yours as if drowning you in its depths. There was air that quite vibrated between the two of you, and the heat that seemed to take form could even be felt emanating from his body.

"I wanted to do that for so long," Peter whispered. His voice shuddered with desire. Gentle words falling like a caress to send shivers through you: "Wanted to touch you, hold you, kiss."

His lips brushed against yours when he spoke, making your body spark with electricity. You were pretty much melting into him, as if his very desire were consuming your human body. His lips, soft and gentle, just as firm and insistent. You tasted like wine.

"You're so beautiful" he said as his hands went underneath your dress, his hands inching close to your under garments. He touched your clothed core; he used his index finger to rub your clothed cover clit

You squirmed in his touch, "P-peter" You mewled in his mouth

This just seemed to fuel Peter even more, as he set aside your panties as his smooth fingers rubbed your now exposed core. Peter looked at you, he slowly kneeled as he spread your legs.

He looked at your wet core, as if it was a painting that he couldn't understand. Without warning he then sucked your glistening pearl; his tongue probed the inside of your gummy walls as his fingers rubbed your pearl. You cried out, your body arching up to meet him, and Peter felt a surge of excitement. He was in control now, and you were at his mercy.

He knew it was wrong, you were drunk after all, but he couldn't help it, this was his only chance.

He licked and sucked at your clit, his fingers plunging in and out of your dripping wet pussy, you cried out in ecstasy, your hands tugging at Peter's hair. But he didn't care, all he cared about was your dripping we cunt.

Anticipation dwells in the coiling mouth against your body, sending shivers along your spine. Every inch of you is lulled into stimulation by his gentle probing, drawing near to a soon-to-be-hidden insistent demand. You can feel that hot air glazing across your skin, soft scraping with teeth, and relentless pressure from his lips, all of which accompanies his tongue.

Your hands are clenched while he works, fingers digging into the sheets or perhaps his hair, holding him there. Your hips jerk primitively, as though to push him deeper and encourage more pressure, while your breathing makes raspy sounds mixed with soft mewls of pleasure.

One hand is busy at your hips, molding you solidly into place, while the other slips only up over the curve of your waist before settling over your breast.

You feel yourself immersing in the sensation as your focus is honed into one. The only critical thing is the feeling of his mouth on you. The whole room begins to fade away, and you're left with only the slushing wet sounds he makes and your breathless gasps, groans, and cries.

Peter on the other hand felt like he was in cloud nine, his mouth was now fully covered in your arousal, but he didn't care. He continued lapping at your cunt, accompanied with his middle finger thrusting in and out of you.

As the intensity rises, so do your frantic movements: the hips jerk and thrust as though reaching toward some ill-defined height. His mouth is a scythe-like blur of tongue lashing and probing until the pressure builds and you're all quivering trembling muscles, precariously balanced on a knife edge of release.

Your mouth is wide open, frozen in a silent scream on your lips, and your entire body starts quivering at the moment of release.

Then silence engulfs the outside world; its only inhabitants are trapped in a silent world of raw lust. His mouth is a furnace, raging, and threatening to engulf you completely, but you lean into the flames, thirsty for the intense heat that only he can provide. Your skin is slick with sweat, your heart thundering like a runaway train as your body builds toward the inevitable climax.

Your cries intensify as tension rises, a mournful cry into this frantic air, a scream savage, echoing off the walls as your body strains towards that release. Your muscles quivering.

Before you knew it, it almost hit you like rough wave of pleasure.

His cock twitched, his balls tightening with anticipation, as he felt the warmth of her your release in his mouth. That alone could make him cum his pants. He had never been this close to a woman before, and the thought of exploring your body was almost too much to bear. And here he was doing exactly just that.

You were beautiful to Peter, but you looked ungodly when you were in a state of release. The way your chest would heave up and down, how your mascara was running down your eyes, and your lipstick smudged on the side of your face.

"You're so beautiful" he said, barely even above a whisper.

"P-peter— OH MY GOD!"

He suddenly took a long slow stripe of your pussy, as if savoring everything, but then stopped when his tongue reached your clit. He sucked on your little pearl as if it was lollipop.

You moaned loudly as your back arched and your toes curled, "P-peter" You whimpered

The way he was sucking on your clit, along with his fingers that was thrusting deep inside you. It made it nearly unbearable. The last few moments or so almost sent you spiraling into one of those severe orgasms that made you see stars on your ceiling.

Loud moans slipped from your mouth, you wondered if your parents were at home, what if they see their sweet girl falling apart underneath the so-called weird kid of your school.

Your hips bucked against his mouth, trying to ease the bittersweet pleasure he was giving you. "P-peter, oh god, stop, I c-can't take it anymore" you begged in a voice very nearly a whisper. Body trembling, your hands reached instinctively for his hair, holding him.

He continued his performance on your clit. A familiar knot kept building inside you. Suddenly, the moans turned into loud gasps, and your body began to shake uncontrollably. P-peter, I…I think I'm going to come again" you finally whisper. To that, he only sucked harder, licked harder, his fingers falling on a rhythm with his tongue swirling relentlessly on your sensitive spot, bringing you to sweet agony. Your back arched up, you gasp while screaming, "P-PETER!"

Heaving and shaking with each pulsing moan, you lay there with your body's hypersensitivity after such intense pleasure receding. Finally, Peter raised his head. That satisfied smile on his face was testimony to your ability to elicit such feelings from him. And with his eyes, he stared at you, every flicker of lust speaking volumes about what was crossing his mind. Then he kissed near the center of time in your inner thigh, his lips dragging softly, and then moving to lie with you at the side of the couch

Peter's smile slowly faded as he noticed your catch of breath, replaced with a show of real concern. He stroked your hair as he gazed into your eyes. "That was intense," Peter said. "You're shaking." His voice was tender, wrapping around you like a soft blanket. "Time to get you to bed, all right?"

He managed a slowly rise from the couch while extending his hand forward towards you. You grasped onto it and found your balance shaky; nonetheless, Peter assisted you toward leaving the living room, down the hallway, and into your bedroom.

Peter opened your door slowly, revealing the bedroom from that night. Snap out of your thoughts Parker!

The bedside lamp cast a warm glow over the room. Peter placed you carefully at the edge of the bed. He knelt down to remove your shoes and started undressing you slowly and carefully. He threw the covers over you as you laid back in bed, tucking you in like a young child.

"Rest," he whispered as he brushed his lips against your forehead. "Sleep, I'll be here when you wake." He sat beside you, stroking your hair with his hand. Your eyelids began to feel heavier, and weariness, along with all the forms of pleasure, finally overtook you. Peter was the last person you remember as you slipped into slumber, where upon you felt the warmth beside you that offered the source of a much-needed sense of safety.

@gloomskulls 2024, DON'T COPY, TRANSLATE OR USE OF MY WORKS IN ANY OTHER WEBSITE. Photos don't belong to me

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