#either i tell the truth about how much i hate this job and possibly have them know that or lie which i would hate to do also. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yourbucky084 · 2 years

Text

good girl

a professor matt murdock x reader fanfiction

description: professor murdock is the most attractive professor at your school. with his charm, cockiness, and sweet nature, you couldn't help but fall for him along with the rest of your classmates. what happens when he falls for you, too?

word count: 9.9k

a/n: HI HI SO SORRY LONG TIME NO SEE AGAIN. this took me so long to get up, but it's one of my all time faves. I re-edited a bunch of it, just adding some more details and juicy smut. the ending is a bit abrupt, I apologize! but I hope you all love it. any likes/comments/reblogs are much appreciated, more soon babes. enjoy whores - shannon <3

“So, with that evidence, he would be….” Matt paused, waiting for someone in the class to chime in with the answer. They’d been working on this all week, someone had to know the answer.

But all he heard was silence.

“Anyone? C’mon guys, you know this.”

Matt hounded the class as he paced around the front of the lecture hall, waiting for someone to speak up. He listened for signs of people at least trying to figure out the answer. An uptick in heart rate, the fluttering of notes, anything. But he came up with nothing; just steady heartbeats and constant breaths. Just his luck to get the late lecture slot on Friday night. Half the class didn’t even bother to show up. The half that did was usually either on their phones, or half asleep.

Except for you, of course.

You were chewing on the end of your pen, something you tended to do when you were focused. He had gotten to know your little tics pretty well over the past few weeks. You fiddled with your rings when nervous, bounced your leg when taking notes, and, his personal favorite, you smiled when he said your name.

“Y/N?”

Matt heard the small intake of breath, the drop of a pen. Then, his favorite sound in the world: the slow rise of the muscles in your cheeks, the flush of blood to your face. Smiling and blushing; all for him. He bit his lip, slightly, in an attempt to hide his own smile.

He just couldn’t help it. Not when it came to you.

Matt was no stranger to the effect he had on people, particularly his students. He had been teaching a law class at Columbia for a few years now, and he was used to the way his students talked about him. He knew he was considered attractive, being dubbed the ‘hot professor’ a few years ago. By now he had come to expect the flirty comments and attempts to ‘earn a better grade.’ It was part of his job, at this point. He’d give them a small smile, and tell them he wasn’t interested in the nicest way possible. And he was telling the truth: he never was interested, especially not in a student.

Until it came to you.

The first day of class, you stumbled a few minutes late, muttering apologies under your breath as you found a seat in the front of the class. Matt was immediately enamored by your voice, the way you said his name that first day sent shivers down his spine. The sweet, soft spoken, “Professor Murdock” made him ache, ache for you. Which was something he was not expecting. He hadn’t been this attracted to someone at first ‘sight’ since Elektra, and he hadn’t even spoken to you yet. Yet your scent had already become one of his favorites, sweet and soft, just like you. This kind of attraction was… rare. Matt knew that. Over the coming weeks of class, he had become absolutely enamored by you: with your intellect, your kindness, your temperament, your habits, your… everything.

And he absolutely hated it.

University rules clearly stated students and professors could not engage in any type of relationship that wasn’t strictly professional. Until the student left the professor’s roster officially, anything was extremely off limits. Engaging in a relationship with a student, especially a sexual one, would cost him his job. It would cost him everything, his reputation, his tenure, everything. He’d have to wait until you weren’t in his class to tell you how he felt. And that was torture. There was still a month left in the semester, a month till he could do anything. It was a twisted form of purgatory, designed to make him suffer. He loved having you in class, loved hearing your voice, but absolutely hated that he couldn’t have more.

And God, forgive him, but he wanted more.

As much as he hated to admit it, he often found himself most nights in his office alone, thinking of you. With his hand down his pants, he’d picture you beneath him, writhing in pleasure. Pleasure he would create. He often regretted it right after he finished, the shame creeping in almost immediately. Having these thoughts for someone who was his student was wrong. He knew that, knew that his feelings for you were wrong. Not being able to get off unless he was thinking of you was wrong.

But at the same time, something about it felt oh so right.

The sound of flickering papers brought him back to the present. You were flustered while searching for the answer; he heard the uptick in rhythm of your heartbeat. Whatever you were focused on before had really captured your attention, probably the case you guys were studying. You always got so invested in class, it was one of the things he loved about you.

Little did he know, you hadn’t been paying attention all class. At least not to his words, or his content.

You were focused on him.

Before enrolling in Mr. Murdock’s class, you had heard whispers about the defense lawyer turned professor. All the rumors were about his good looks and charm, called by most by the most attractive faculty member yet. Someone had even told you on a whim that “the blind thing makes only him sexier,” which one, was offensive, and two, made no sense. Everyone seemed to be obsessed with him, and you didn’t understand why. You even heard your advisor make a comment about his charm when you registered for the class, and hell, your friend was taking the class just to stare at him. But you truly didn’t understand the appeal. He was just a professor, right? What could be so special about him?

You soon found that the answer was everything.

Professor Murdock was, by far, the most enchanting man you had ever met. The way he spoke, the cock of his head when he really got into an argument. That cocky, wide grinned smile, dimples constantly on full display. His rolled up sleeves, god, the way those muscles looked through those too tight shirts. His intellect; the way he lectured made your head spin. He brought up ideas you’d never thought of before, he really made you think. And of course, the way he said your name. Sweet and slow off his tongue, no expectation, simply admiration. You hadn’t been this enamored with a guy since… well, ever. And you weren’t alone in that feeling: almost every girl in your class was in love with him. How could they not be? Just one class with him and you were hooked. He didn’t pay any attention to anyone, though, curving every flirtatious comment or any attempt to get him alone.

It was clear to everyone: he wasn’t interested in any of his students.

The way he treated you, however, said otherwise.

Professor Murdock, for whatever reason, seemed to have a soft spot for you. At first, you thought it was all in your head. There was no way the hottest professor on campus had a soft spot for you. But as the weeks went by, the evidence was too much to deny. He always spoke to you in a slightly softer tone than the one he used with his classmates. He was never stern with you, only sweet. He smiled at you more, more than anyone else. He always said your name with a smile, making you feel things you definitely shouldn’t be feeling in the middle of class. He left the sweetest comments on all your papers, sent you the kindest email replies. You lingered after class most days with some stupid question, eager to spend more time with you. And he always obliged, always changed the conversation towards you; your other classes, your weekend plans, anything.

It was almost as if he wanted more time with you, too.

And that thought sent shivers down your spine.

“Y/N?”

He said your name again, calling you back to the present. You looked up from your notes to find him standing in front of you, smiling down at you. He leaned on his cane, head tilted, awaiting your answer.

Fuck, the answer!

“Guilty, professor. Definitely guilty.”

“Good! Good girl.”

He said the last part softly, only you could hear. He didn’t mean to, he swore he really didn’t mean to. It just… it slipped out. Maybe it was the fact your hair was down today, your scent engulfing him when he was this close. Maybe it was the fact you were wearing a skirt, a little fluffy cotton number that left your legs on full display. Images of soft, smooth skin flooded his brain, overpowered any restraint. He didn’t know what it was that made him say it, all he knew was that couldn’t resist. Not when it came to you. Not when he suspected it would turn you on. He was grateful at that moment, though the rest of the class was barely paying any attention.

Something like that could have cost him his job.

But, fuck, did your reaction make it worth that risk.

Goosebumps flooded across your entire body. He felt the blood rush to your cheeks of course, and to somewhere else. Somewhere lower. Your breath caught in your throat, caught off guard by the nickname, which could have been a negative response. But the growing arousal between your thighs told him you liked it. You really liked it. And you wanted more. You were so sensitive, so responsive just to two little words, his two little words. He turned you on, he was the one making you feel this way.

He could only imagine how he’d make you feel with his tongue…

Or his cock-

A small shuffle from somewhere in the room broke his concentration, someone readjusting in their seat. It was meaningless, sure, but it was enough to make him snap back to reality. What was he doing? You were his student, he was your professor. This was wrong, you were young, innocent, whole life ahead of you. He really shouldn’t be flirting like this. He didn’t even know if you’d been in relationships before, for all he knew, you could have been a virgin. So why did that turn him on? Why was he feeling this way? Why were you so encaptivating? Matt heard the familiar shift of your facial muscles, the sure sign your lips were creeping into a smile, and then he remembered. It was you. Everything you did, everything you said, everything you were that made him act this way. You were driving him crazy, it seemed like nearly every thought these days was of you. It was wrong, sure, but what he felt was real.

Screw the rules.

He wanted you.

He got back to his lecture quickly, picking up right where he left off. That was the best way to avoid suspicion, he supposed. And to let you stew in the moment. He heard the signature scribble of a few pens as he described what comes after a verdict, one of those pens being yours. To unsuspecting eyes, you were simply listening to the lecture, taking notes, being a good student.

But Matt knew your heart was still racing.

You got back to your notes quickly, trying to ignore your rapidly beating heart. He didn’t mean it like that, right? He just wanted to commend you for getting the answer right. Right? Surely he didn’t mean to get you all hot and bothered; you could already feel the arousal pooling between your thighs. You tried to follow Mr. Murdock’s lecture, but you couldn’t focus on anything he was saying. Not when he had said that, and walked away like it was nothing. It was too intentional, too hushed, too on the nose for it to be a mistake, you decided. He meant to say it. He wanted to see how you’d react, he wanted to see if you wanted him too.

And, God, did you.

You just had to decide what you’d do next. He’d left the ball in your court, you got to decide where you wanted this to go. Ever the gentleman of him.You could do the obvious, and probably the most sensible: pretend it never happened and leave class as soon as it ended. That way, you’d keep your scholarship and Professor Murdock would keep his job. But, the riskier option would be to linger behind as you usually did, to wait until your classmates left. You’d get to see what Mr. Murdock meant by his little comment, to see if he wanted to say anything more.

Or do anything more.

It was a no brainer in your eyes. You’d be risking everything: your scholarship, your enrollment, his job, his tenure, ect. But you couldn’t take it anymore. How were you supposed to focus on anything when Matt was teasing you in the middle of class? You couldn’t take much more of the constant flirting, the never ending tension. You simply couldn’t stand another day of watching him walk across the classroom, sleeves folded up, chest hair peeking out of his dress shirt. You couldn’t take it anymore; knowing you could have him, but still holding yourself back. You wanted to, needed to see where he’d take it next, if he wanted to risk it too.

And you were almost certain that he did.

“Alright, everyone, I think that’s it for today. Check the syllabus for your homework, and have a great…weekend.”

Before Matt even finished his sentence, the majority of the class was already out of the room, on their way to their friday night plans. There were a few stragglers of course, as there always was. It didn’t slip his mind that one of those stragglers was you. You tended to linger back after class most days, more often than not in the last few weeks. It had started at first as just questions about class, but soon morphed into you two just chatting. You’d talk about your other classes and your career plans, he’d give you advice when needed, but mostly just listened. Every little thing you shared about yourself, about your life, Matt relished. It was domestic, like a date without the formality; he felt like he already knew everything about you. Tonight though, something told him your conversation would be different.

“Y/N, hang back a sec?” He asked, even though he knew you would stay. He just wanted to get rid of that last little bit of doubt in his mind.

He listened intently as your teeth caught on your bottom lip; your attempt at holding back a smile. These are some of the only times he wished he could see, to see your reaction, to see the happiness creep up on your face. He was lucky he had his abilities, otherwise he wouldn’t be so confident that you wanted him too. The blood rushing to your face, smile wide, alleviated all his doubts.

“Sure Professor,” Your joy was clear in your tone, and Matt felt no shame in the smile that crept up his own cheeks. He knew there were a few students left still packing up, but he wasn’t concerned. It was a well known fact you were his favorite student, you were the only one passionate about the class. Your dedication to law and his class only added to his attraction to you, Matt loved getting in debates with you about the day’s material. He was in awe of how invested you were, how much you believed that in the end, law would prevail. It was incredible, your unwavering belief. You wanted to do good, knew you could do good through the courts, just like him.

And god, was that attractive.

“You’re staying again to fuck him, aren’t you,” your friend blurted out, breaking his train of thought. Matt had to hold back a laugh as he sensed your face flushing red at your friend’s remark, your embarrassment clear. Normally, he’d be a little concerned at that comment. But he knew it was your friend, and had heard her encouraging you to fuck him openly at the end of every class.

Maybe tonight, you’d finally take her advice.

“For the last time, we aren’t fucking. I just like to talk to him.”

Matt listened closely to your body as you spoke. Your heart rate was steady, indicating you were telling the truth. You did like talking to him, and you guys weren’t fucking.

Not yet, at least.

“Talk. Mhm, sureeeee. Whatever you say. Text me when you’re done talking,” she said as she threw a wink your way.

She grabbed her bag and left immediately, not giving you a chance to respond. Now that she was gone, you and Matt were the only people left in the classroom. Completely alone. Tension filled the room like a thick fog, goosebumps covered your skin in anticipation of what was to come. Matt hated making you nervous, making you wait. He wanted you to break the silence, to have you decide where you wanted the evening to go. But you weren’t saying anything, Matt could hear you fiddling with your skirt. It was clear you wanted him to take the lead.

So lead he would.

“Y/N, that’s you right?” He knew it was you, of course, but you didn’t know about his abilities. He had to keep up appearances, of course. You wouldn't know that side of him. Not now. Not ever.

“Yes, Professor. Just me.”

God forgive him, but the way you said his title…

It made him feel things he shouldn’t be feeling. It was downright sinful, the way the word rolled off your tongue. He wanted to know what you would sound like begging for him, pleading for your professor to fuck you harder. He was half hard in his pants already at the thought. Hard in his classroom, who was he?

You emphasized those last two words, making it clear to him that you two were alone.

That he could do whatever he wanted.

His mind scrambled for an excuse to get you out of here, to his office. It was smaller, more intimate, and he had a couch there. A couch he hoped you two would get some use out of tonight. He didn’t want to get ahead of himself, of course. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable in any way, didn’t want to force you into doing something you’d regret. But the smell of your pheromones in the air, arousal very present, told him you were thinking about the same thing.

You shifted on your feet again, shuffling, reminding him you were waiting for him to make the next move.

“W-would you mind helping me move these books back to my office? It’s just a few doors down, I-I also have a paper of yours to give back. Unless, of course, you have other plans.”

His tone was slightly panicked, nervous. Like he didn’t know if you’d say yes. Professor Murdock was giving you an out, one last chance to stop whatever was going to happen. How sweet. You appreciated the gesture, sure, but your mind was made up. You knew what you wanted: you wanted him.

“I’d love to, Professor,” you said with a smile, relishing the way your words made him smile in response.

“Matt. My name’s Matt.”

Matt. A simple thing, just his name. But it felt like the final step into something larger. You had spent time with him outside of class for weeks now, but he had never told you his name. It was like he had been holding himself back, his true self, and he was finally ready to let go.

To give himself to you.

“Matt,” you said his name once, taking in the way the name tasted on your tongue.

You liked it.

You wanted more.

“Matt. Matthew, I presume? Maybe even Matty? I like it,” you’d adopted a teasing tone, not dissimilar to the one Matt had taken with you earlier, when those two little words slipped out. You figured if he wanted to tease, so would you.

You watched as Matt’s cheeks flushed pink, his jaw twitching ever so slightly. You imagined this was how he felt earlier, seeing you all hot and bothered. A fan of nicknames, you thought.

You’d keep that in mind for later.

“Either’s perfect, coming from you,” he said with a smile. Now it was your turn to blush again. Matt had made nice comments before in class, sure, even the occasional compliment. But now that he was openly flirting?

You didn’t know how to handle it.

“Umm… where are the books?” You decided it was best to just move on, ignore his outright flirting for now. If you flirted back right now, you were pretty sure you’d jump his bones right here in the middle of the classroom. And as much as you’d love to act out your late night fantasies, you knew that the building wasn’t empty.

And with Matt, you didn’t want to have to contain your moans.

“Oh! Yeah, right here,” he said as he felt around his desk, finding the edge and leaning down. He picked up two books, two he could easily carry himself, but it was clear the books were just an excuse to get you in his office. To get you alone. You grabbed your bag and walked down the lecture hall ramp, meeting Matt at his desk. You walked over to him, trailing your hands down his arms, before grabbing the books out of his hands.

“Ready?” You asked, as he grabbed his briefcase and cane from atop his desk. He balanced both items in one hand, stretching out the other to find your arm, wrapping his arm around it. He leaned in close, close enough so you could hear the contented hum he let out once you were flush against his side. His head turned toward you, as he smiled and said:

“Lead the way.”

You two spent the majority of the walk in silence, the only words between you two were Matt’s directions on how to get to his office. It consistently amazed you how Matt knew where you two were after every turn, effortlessly guiding you to his office door. You used the downtime to relish in Matt’s warmth at your side, how close he kept himself to you despite not needing a guide. You’d seen him get around the building plenty of times with just his cane, using the braille on the various door signs to navigate himself. So he was clearly just using the excuse of needing a guide to be close to you.

And that sent shivers down your spine.

“The door on your left. That’s my office. I just gotta get my keys,” he broke his grasp around your forearm, fishing his keys out of the pocket of his trousers. He unlocked the door, grabbing the books out of your arm and placing them on his desk. While he got settled, putting down his briefcase and collapsing his cane, you admired his office. There weren't many decorations, but you didn’t know why you’d thought he’d have any. The only decoration, of sorts, was a small metal sign hung above his desk, “Nelson and Murdock: Attorneys at Law.” Must have been his practice before he started teaching, you thought. Other than the sign, he had a bookshelf in one corner, filled to the brim with various textbooks in braille. Against one wall was a couch, a smaller, love seat type deal, pillow and blanket stacked neatly in the corner. You smirked at the thought of Matt, typically all tough and no bullshit, cuddled up under a little penguin blanket.

“You sleep here?” You said with a chuckle, putting your own bag down on the floor.

“Sometimes. I like the occasional nap or two between classes,” Matt said as he fished something out of his briefcase, closing it with a snap. The room fell into silence for a second, and you didn’t know how to break it. Matt began to walk over, piece of paper in hand. Upon a closer look, you realized it was your paper, and your heart dropped. Did he really call you in here just to talk about your paper? Did you read everything wrong?

But then Matt took a seat on the almost-too-small-for-two-people couch, patting the cushion right next to him, and all your fears disappeared.

“Sit, please, sit.”

He heard your heart begin to race in your chest as you sat down next to him, close enough so that your legs were touching. It took everything in him to not pull you down atop him and bring your lips to his,to have you right now. But he knew he needed to take this slow. He didn’t know if this was going to be a one time thing, whatever it was. Regardless, you were young. He needed to be sure, to be confident you wanted him too. Taking things slow was part of that. But he also had selfish reasons. He wanted to be able to take his time, make sure you were enjoying it, to savor your reactions.

To savor you.

“I-Is that my paper?” You stuttered, Matt could hear the tension in your voice. You were fiddling with your rings as you always did when nervous, though this time, Matt could smell your arousal in the air. You weren’t anxious; you were anticipating what was to come, same as him. It was turning you on, this build up. So he decided to tease you a little more.

“Oh, yeah, here,” he held the paper out, letting his fingers brush yours as he handed it to you.

“Great job as always. You really nailed the final commentary piece, too. I’ll be using it as an example for the rest of the class, if that’s ok.”

You couldn’t hide your smile as he spoke. Matt knew you liked to hear how well you were doing, to be praised in the classroom setting. He had heard the steady uptick in your heart whenever he complimented your phrasing, or commended you for getting the answer right. But, due to his little slip up earlier, he knew that desire to be praised carried over into other parts of your life. More intimate settings. He couldn’t help himself as he continued to speak, eager to dive deeper into this part of you.

“You really like to hear how good you’re doing, huh?”

Matt heard the breath catch in your throat, sensed the way you clenched your thighs for some type of relief. His words had had the exact reaction he’d hoped for, going straight to your core. He knew he had you pegged, but it still felt good to see your reaction. He took another bold move, placing his hand atop your thigh, right where the skirt ended and your skin began to show. You physically shuttered, but didn’t move his hand away. In fact, he felt you move just a little closer, until you were flush against his side. If someone walked in and found you two like this, he’d lose his job. A small part of him kept reminding him you were his student, this was wrong. It wasn’t just taboo, it was illegal. He’d lose his job.

But he just couldn’t pull himself away from you.

“I-I just… I really like to please, Professor.”

Now it was his turn to shiver. He definitely wasn’t expecting that in response. You clearly had caught on to his little game, the teasing banter back and forth. Your tone was light, innocent, and unpresuming. But you knew exactly what you were doing, using his title like that. He adjusted in his seat a bit, trying to hide his growing erection beneath his pants. He had never gotten this turned on, this fast, but you had a hold on him he couldn’t explain. Just your words, the contact of your body heat against his, was enough to get him going.

And he wanted more.

“Matt, sweetheart. You can call me Matt.”

Sweetheart. You liked that. You really liked that. There was a whole new wave of arousal in the air, he could smell it. You must have been practically dripping, the way your scent crowded his senses. You shifted next to him, rubbing against the couch just the slightest bit, seeking some relief. He wouldn’t be able to keep composure, to tease you much longer. His hand had already started sliding up your thigh on instinct, sliding under the fabric of your skirt. He was seeking out your wanting arousal, seeking more of you.

He needed more of you.

“Matt…” You said, his name a breathy sigh on your lips. He leaned in ever so slightly in expectation, waiting for you to do the same. But you didn’t. You stood up abruptly, leaving Matt alone on the couch. What were you doing? He had never been more confused, he hadn’t sensed any indication that you didn’t want this as much as him. If anything, you were more aroused than before.

So what was going on?

“Why’d you call me in here?”

You asked with your hands on your hips, holding yourself steady. He searched your tone for any hint of hesitation, anything saying you didn’t want this. But your words were strong, clear, and concise. You knew what you were asking. You knew what he was going to say in response, and hell, you wanted him too. You were simply looking for confirmation, something to tell you that this was real, that it was happening. That it wasn’t a dream.And Matt could give you that.

After a little more teasing, of course.

He stood up from his spot on the couch, walking over to where you stood in the middle of the room. He took a bold move, placing both hands on your hips, keeping you both in place.c He pulled you flush against him, close enough so that he knew you could feel him rock hard against your stomach. He wanted you to know, to realize how much you turned him on. He leaned in, close, biting back a grin when he felt you lean in too. He paused before you two were touching, wanted to tease you just a little bit more, keep you on the edge.

“Oh I think you know, sweet girl,” Matt whispered, relishing in the feeling of your hips against his. The fabric of your skirt was soft, fluffy, and he was pretty sure pink; all he wanted to do was bury his head in it. Your hands moved from your side to Matt’s neck, one raking itself in his hair. He couldn’t help the small whine that escaped his lips, not when your fingers felt so good. You were so gentle, scratching ever so slightly, the tension disappearing from his shoulders almost entirely. You leaned in close as Matt licked his lips in anticipation, but you stopped just before you two connected.

“Wanna hear you say it, Matty,” you whispered in the darkness. He could feel your breath on your lips, could taste you in the air. You were teasing him back, giving him a taste of his own medicine. You weren’t as innocent as he originally thought, not as fragile as he had surmised. You could handle yourself.

And he loved it.

Without missing a beat, he whispered back.

“How about I show you instead?”

Matt’s lips finally connected with yours. A bit softer than you were expecting, but you weren’t one to complain. Not when you were finally here, kissing the man you’ve been fantasizing about for weeks. You grabbed onto the back of Matt’s neck tighter, trying to ground yourself in the moment. This was real, this wasn’t a dream.

You were kissing Professor Murdock.

Matt’s tongue slipped inside your mouth, eager to deepen the kiss. You obliged, eager to take as much as Matt wanted to give. He kissed you deeply, hands moving up your back to push you flush against him. His lips moved slowly, taking his time in devouring you. And devour he did. His lips against yours made you weak at the knees, your composure slipping. But you only leaned into it, leaned into him, eager for more you knew you wouldn’t get. You suspected that this moment wouldn’t last long, there was only so much you could do in his office without getting caught. You wanted to savor it for as long as the kiss lasted, for however long Matt was willing to risk it.

Almost as if he had read your mind, Matt broke the kiss. He rested his forehead on yours for a moment, catching his breath. Keeping your eyes closed, you let out a breathy sigh, reveling in the moment. You waited for him to speak, to break the contact and address the situation. Instead, Matt’s hands found your hips, gripping tight, and beginning to walk you backwards. Backwards until your back was against the door.

“Matt, what are you doing?” You giggled slightly, taken aback by the movement.

And then his mouth found your neck.

“Matt… not in t-the office…they’ll hear us, you’ll…oh fuck-” Your words faltered as he pressed you against the door. His fingers had somehow already found their way under your skirt, moving your underwear aside immediately as kissed down your neck. His touch was full of passion, fingertips already skimming your folds. Like he was getting ready to fuck you right here, against the door.

You were not expecting this.

You’d always found Matt to be a particularly level headed teacher, one fond of the rules. He turned down every advancement from his students, he never kept the class a minute past the end time. Assignments were organized, the syllabus was a word for word plan of the year. He was… put together, in every sense. You thought he liked his rules, liked to obey. But here you were: his mouth leaving marks on your neck, his fingers teasing your slick.

You were the exception to his rule, you guessed.

You couldn’t help but moan as his thumb brushed your clit, fingers already teasing your entrance. He was still kissing your neck, teeth scraping the soft skin every so often. And god, was it turning you on. What was happening? You certainly weren’t surprised when Matt leaned in for the kiss, but that’s all you thought it was going to be: a kiss. You didn’t think Matt was going to finger you in his office, or fuck you on his desk.

But right now, those seemed to be his only two intentions.

“Oh, they’ll hear us, huh? You think they’ll hear how wet you are for me? How desperate?”

Matt’s tone was rich against your neck, a low growl in your ear. He was teasing you; testing your limits to see how far you’d go right here. The building was mostly empty, as it was nine o’clock at night on a friday. But you were certain there’d be a few stragglers, just like Matt. And as much as you wanted, needed him, you didn’t want to risk him losing the job he loved so much.

Especially not for you.

“We’re gonna get c-cau-auh… ohhhhh.”

Matt cut you off by pushing two fingers inside you, curling them just right to hit that one spot on the first try. He kept pumping his fingers in and out, in and out, hitting that spot again and again and again. You couldn’t do anything but throw your head back in pleasure and wrap your hands around Matt’s neck to keep you afloat. Deep down, you knew this was wrong. He was your professor, you were his student, you couldn’t be doing this, especially not in his office.

But if this was so wrong, why did it feel so right?

Your mind was blank, covered in a fog of pleasure at Matt’s hand. His fingers felt divine, a godly gift from above. And hell, with the way he looked, maybe he was a god himself. Gone were your protests from seconds ago, long gone in fact. His hair was messy, glasses low on his face so you could see his eyes. A permanent smirk was etched on his face, telling you he was enjoying this just as much as you were. All you wanted to do, all you could do was moan and beg for more. Your hands clawed at his back, shoulders, desperate for something to ground you.

Because Matt was taking you higher than you’d ever been before.

You’d been fingered before, sure, but nothing could compare to this. Matt wasn’t just doing this for your pleasure, it was clear he was enjoying it too. Soft sighs against your skin, licking his lips every so often as if he was tasting you in the air. He leaned into your body; one hand holding the small of your back while the other worked its magic. His fingers were moving at a furious pace, but something about it felt oh so gentle. Matt was in charge, dominance clear. But he treated you as a treasure, each touch was intentional. No one had ever treated you with such kindness. His lips moved from their place on your neck, leaving small kisses along your jaw, stopping when he reached your ear.

“You’re being so good for me baby, so good. Wanna cum? I wanna make you cum. C’mon, wanna make you cum.”

You couldn’t form words to answer Matt’s question, only nod slightly while your head was thrown back in ecstasy. This was all too much, Matt’s fingers, his lips against your neck, the realization that it was him, your professor, bringing you this pleasure. He kept hitting that spot inside you again and again, curling his fingers just right with every thrust. With the feeling of his fingers, and the fact that it was his fingers, Matt’s fingers, you were going to cum faster than you ever had before.

“Matt, I’m g-gonna, I’m-” You began, trying to warn him of your impending release. Before you could reach your peak, however, he pulled away from you entirely. You whined in protest, upset at the lack of stimulation without any warning. But before you could chastise him, he grabbed your hips, moving you away from the door and guiding you to sit on his desk. He pushed your skirt up to your waist, leaving you and your underwear on full display. You expected him to fumble with his belt, to fuck you right then and there.

But he did something unexpected.

He dropped to his knees.

“Changed my mind, sweetheart. Wanna taste you.”

You watched through hooded eyes as he removed his tie and glasses, allowing you to finally get a good look at those beautiful brown eyes. He always kept his glasses on in class, only taking them off once and a while to rub his eyes. He had told you once after class that people typically found his eyes uncomfortable. The unfocused stare, the lack of blinking turned people away. You had told him that wasn’t true, that you’d love to see his eyes. He had told you maybe someday he’d take his glasses off so you could see them for yourself.

You never would have guessed that moment would be now, with Matt kneeling beneath you like a man at the altar.

Ready to worship.

He tilted his face up towards you and smiled, giving you another glimpse of those sinfully warm eyes. He placed small kisses along your thighs, teasing you yet again. If you had learned anything about Matt Murdock today, it was that he liked to tease. It was becoming clear that was his favorite part of all this, he lived for the chase. The taboo nature of your positions was hot to you, sure, and you were only now realizing it must have been hot to him too. The praise, the nicknames, the desire to get caught. Matt Murdock was dirty, and you were loving it.

Despite your earlier fears, all you wanted now was to cum. You knew it was wrong, knew you could be caught at any moment. But you didn’t care. Matt clearly wanted this, to have you in this way. And you’d do anything he asked. He wanted to take his time, however, and you certainly did not. After your first ruined orgasm, you weren’t too keen on the idea of him drawing this out any longer. You huffed out loud in protest, causing Matt to chuckle against the soft skin of your thigh.

“I know, baby, I know. I’m getting there.”

His tone was soft, but he said everything with a shit eating grin. It was clear he was enjoying drawing this out, leaving one last hickey on your thigh. He licked his lips before moving in between your thighs, licking a broad stripe up your folds. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips when his tongue first made contact with your clit, raking your hands through his hair without thinking. You didn’t intend to tug as hard as you did, but you couldn’t help it. He felt too good, and you needed more, more, more.

And he was more than eager to oblige.

Matt had decided heaven wasn’t possible for him after everything he’d done. He had accepted his fate, faced the fact he’d never reach eternal pleasure.

Yet here he was, in heaven between your thighs.

He had never tasted something so sweet. Your taste was addicting; the more he got, the more he wanted. He couldn’t hold back his own moans, you were bringing him pleasure he’d never felt before. The way you used your hands to bring his face closer to you, grinding down on him, turned him on more than he’d care to admit. He was already close, just by tasting you. He loved the way you were taking what you wanted from him, and he was more than willing to give whatever you needed.

With another groan from his own mouth, he shifted up a little bit on his knees, just high enough so that his nose rubbed against your clit. You practically yelped at the contact, raking your hands in his hair even harder, hips grinding down on him. Matt tried to ignore his own arousal, his cock was painfully hard straining against the fabric of his pants. He wanted, needed to make you cum.

Before he came in his pants like a teenager.

“C’mon, sweetheart, need you to cum. Need you to cum, please.”

He mumbled between your folds, the vibration of his voice adding another level of pleasure. He could tell his words did something to you, your fingers gripping his hair even harder. He could feel your walls begin to contract, could hear the uptick in your heartbeat as you approached your end. You were close, almost over that wall.

And Matt was gonna give you one final push.

He took your clit between his lips and sucked, intent on bringing you to your end. You chanted his name, his real name, not his title. This was real, not some fantasy. Like a silent, soft prayer, “Matt, Matt, Matt,” left your lips over and over again. Finally, with another swirl of his tongue, your muscles contracted, and a new wave of your arousal coated his tongue. You had a death grip on his hair, pushing his face between your thighs and riding out your high. He could sense the relief in your body as your heart rate slowed and your thighs relaxed. He smiled to himself, still between your thighs. He listened as you shifted yourself up on your elbows, still panting slightly. He moved out from his place between your thighs, trying his best to meet your eyes. Your hands found his shoulders, then his face, as you spoke.

“Get the fuck up here and kiss me.”

You both chuckled at your words, but Matt obeyed, standing up and finding your lips once again. He heard you groan into the kiss, overwhelmed at his taste on your tongue. If it was up to him, he’d stay like this all day, his hands on your hips, your lips against his. This was what he had been waiting for all semester, all he had ever wanted.

To be with you.

Your hands shifted down to his belt, reminding him of his more pressing problem. He’d been so focused on your pleasure, so invested in you, he hadn’t realized how much he’d been hurting. He was painfully hard, the fabric of his boxers all too rough against his skin. But it seemed like you were intent on alleviating that. You fiddled with his belt, struggling, but he wasn’t keen on helping you just yet.

He wanted to feel you.

He moved his hands up to find the bottom of your shirt, teasing the soft skin of your stomach underneath. You huffed impatiently, lips pursed together in what he imagined was the cutest little pout. You broke the kiss, quickly removing your t-shirt and flinging it across the room.You went right back to his mouth wordlessly, and your attempt to remove his belt. He traced his fingers up your lower back, trying to memorize every little dip and curve he could find. He finally found the fabric of your bra, running his fingers under the elastic as he broke the kiss.

“Can I-” He began, intent on asking consent, but you cut him off.

“For God sakes, Matthew, pleaseee,” You whined, finally undoing his belt. He twisted the hooks of your bra, undoing them all at once, the fabric falling along your shoulders. You removed your hand from the button of his pants, shrugging the soft fabric off your chest, before returning to your original position. He slowly, carefully, traced his fingers from your back to your upper ribs, finally coming into contact with your breasts. Before he could explore them, savor them as you deserved, your hand began to palm his cock through the fabric.

“S-shit,” Matt exclaimed, and you bit your lip at his reaction, unable to hide your satisfaction at finally having him in your clutches. This whole night, you’d been at his mercy, under his spell.

But now it was his turn.

You undid the last button on his pants, tugging them down past his ass, as they fell to the floor. You found the waistband of his briefs, tugging those down too, letting his cock spring from its confines. You couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your lips at his size; he was huge. You’d expected big, sure. He carried himself with too much confidence to say otherwise. But this? You never would have thought. He was long, sure, probably around eight inches. But god, he was thick. You could barely wrap your hand around his as you moved to pump him, using the precum at his tip as lubricant. One flick of your wrist had him moaning, bucking up into your hand. You looked up to find his eyes closed, head thrown back in pleasure, mouth agape in ecstasy. He was beautiful like this: vulnerable, relaxed, finally letting go. You didn’t know what this was with Matt, whether it was a one time thing or something more. All you knew is you wanted to keep bringing him pleasure for as long as you got the chance.

Abruptly, he grabbed your wrist, pausing your movements. You pouted, frustrated at the fact he cut you off. You were intent on sucking him off, bringing him the same pleasure he brought you. But he clearly had other plans. He brought your hand up to his lips, giving it a small peck before dropping it entirely.

“Wanna fuck you now. Turn over.”

His tone was firm, low. Sure. Not unlike the tone he used in the classroom, when giving the class directions, orders on what to do next. He expected to be listened to in the bedroom, the same way he was listened to in the classroom. He expected to be in charge.

And god, did that turn you on.

You obliged, standing up to remove your skirt before leaning over on his desk. The scene was utterly pornographic, something out of your deepest, darkest fantasies come to life. You were about to fuck your professor, over his desk. You couldn’t believe it. Matt started unbuttoning the buttons on his dress shirt, slowly, muttering praises and promises as he went.

“Thought about this for weeks, you know. You, spread out over my desk. So fucking beautiful, so fucking good for me. You gonna be good for me now, huh? Let me make you cum on my cock?”

Matt was definitely dirtier than you were expecting, and you were loving it. He was a rule follower in the classroom to the utmost extent, but here was where his wild side was let loose. You didn’t expect him to be so vocal in the bedroom, so filthy, but it was more than welcome. You nodded in response to his question, to his praises, turning your head back to face him as you spoke.

“Please, Matty. Please fuck me.”

He growled in response, throwing his shirt somewhere on the floor. He grabbed your hips from behind, pressing his cock against the curve of your ass. The contact caused you to arch back up into him, silently begging for more.

And you knew Matt was gonna give you more.

He guided his erection to your folds, rubbing up and down a few times, coating himself in your slick. After a minute, he lined himself up with your entrance, pushing just the tip in slowly. You yelped at the sudden intrusion, taken aback by the stretch despite Matt’s fingers earlier. He placed a kind hand on your lower back, rubbing his thumb across his skin. Comforting you to the utmost extent, encouraging you.

“I got you, sweetheart. I got you,” he said as he slowly pushed himself in, taking his time as he stretched you out. It had been a while since you’d had sex, and with Matt’s size, it was more than a little stretch. After a minute or so, he bottomed out entirely, causing you both to groan. He pulled back again slowly, causing you to groan loudly, not out of pain, but of pleasure. He brushed up against your g-spot as he thrusted out, already bringing you immense satisfaction on the first move. You cried out, loud and sudden, taken aback by the pleasure. He began to pull out all the way again, afraid he’d hurt you. But you reached your hands back, grasping for him.

For more.

“More, god, Matt please-” you began, but he cut you off with another thrust. He continuously hit that spot inside you with each thrust, grabbing your hips to help ensure he was getting the angle right. You grabbed the edge of his desk for support, desperate for some support as he began to thrust harder, now finally seeking out his own pleasure.

Finally taking you how he wanted.

“Fuck, Matt, sooo good,” You moaned, words slurring, unable to hold back your sounds of pleasure. Your moans were barely discernible from your words, but you had to let Matt know how good he was making you feel. How good he felt. You’d never had sex this good, fumblings in the backseat or lackluster frat men could never compare. Matt filling you, splitting you was overwhelming. You’d reach your peak soon.

Your words went straight to Matt’s cock, twitching inside of you. Fuck, you were hot. He’d know that before, of course. But having you writhing underneath him, pushing your hips back with each thrust to fill you even more… It may have been the most attractive thing Matt had ever experienced. You were tight, way tighter than he had expected. Between that, and the filthy fact of you being his student strewn out naked across his desk, he wasn’t going to last long.

He needed to make what he had left count.

“Turn over,” He ordered, slipping himself out and stepping back entirely. He listened as your eyebrows scrunched in confusion, but you listened anyway, laying back down on the desk. He grabbed your legs, placing them on his shoulders as he again found your entrance, and pushed inside. He didn’t give you any lead up, any grace period as he resumed his rapid pace, thrusting in and out of you. You lifted your hips up in pleasure as his thumb found your clit, rubbing it rapidly, with the intent of bringing you to orgasm as soon as possible. He leaned over, pressing a kiss against your collarbone, then your neck, as he finally reached your ear.

“You gotta cum for me, sweetheart. C’mon, baby, soak my cock. Be a good girl and cum for me. I know you can do it. Please, wanna feel you, need to feel you.”

He whispered softly against your neck, voice faltering as he continued to work your clit. As soon as he spoke, he heard the signature uptick in your heart rate, the tightening of your muscles around his cock. You tightened tenfold when you were about to cum; he couldn’t last much longer.

Your hands wrapped around his neck as you came to your end, a desperate attempt to ground yourself as you went up. You moaned his name as you came, a high pitched “Matty” that claimed your orgasm as his. Something snapped within him as you came, something dark. He’d been holding himself back, afraid he’d hurt you, scare you away. He wanted to be sweet with you, to take care of you as you deserved. But his name on your lips as you came was too much to bear.

He needed to let the devil out.

As you began coming down from your orgasm haze, you heard Matt growl. His hand left your clit to immediately find your throat, wrapping his hands around the vulnerable skin. Your eyes widened, taken aback at the sudden gesture. He had been dominant before, sure, but never rough or too kinky. Choking? This was a new level. Despite the surprise, you weren’t scared. You should have been, though. The sight of Matt, teeth bared, hand around your neck, eyes dark as he thrusted, should have been terrifying.

But it wasn’t.

It was hot.

“Y-you’re fucking mine,” Matt mumbled as his thursts increased, chasing his own end at a rapid pace. You couldn’t do anything but lay there and take it, and you liked that. Matt was in control, Matt was taking control. If you hadn’t just come, you were sure those words would have made you reach your end on the spot.

“S-say it. Say you’re m-mine,” He ordered, his hand squeezing tighter around your throat.

“I’m yours, Matt. I’m yours.”

You whispered in the darkness, and that’s what did it. Hearing you claim yourself as his, after he’d wanted you for so long, was too much. He removed his hand from your throat, grabbing your hips rougher than he intended. But he couldn’t control himself when it came to you, the Devil was in charge. He thrusted himself deep inside as he came, coating your walls with his release.Your words brought him over the edge, the fact that you were telling the truth when you said it was too much to bear. He thrusted one more time, before forgoing his grip, and collapsing on top of you.

You instinctively wrapped your arms around him, one of your hands raking your way into his hair, as he came down from his own high. Without warning, Matt stood up fully, scoping you up from where you two laid and bringing you both to the couch. You sat on his lap as he pressed you against his chest, one of his hands finding its way to the top of your head. He seemed panicked, an expression of fear etched across his face as he spoke.

“ I’m so sorry, shit, I��m so sorry, I didn’t mean,I don’t… I’m so sorry,” He stuttered out, raking his way through your hair as he held you close. His heart was beating rapidly, eyes flickering back and forth like he was scanning the room. You were confused by his apology and panic; couldn’t he tell that that was the best sex of your life?

“Why are you sorry?”

You whispered back, wrapping your hands around his neck to bring you closer to him. He shook his head in response, flinching slightly at the contact. He seemed scared to touch you, his hand around your shoulders all too soft. He’d gone a bit rough, sure, but nothing insane. But it was almost like you could hear his mind racing, his silence said enough. You finally figured it out: he was scared he hurt you. Matt Murdock, the man with the heart of gold, was terrified he’d been too much. He’d been vulnerable with you, using you as he wanted to reach his end. But he thought he’d been too much; he’d probably been told that before. You had to calm his fears, let him know it was the best you’d ever had. He needed reassurance, just like you always did in class.

And you’d be more than happy to oblige.

“Matthew,” you sighed, raking your fingers into the hair on the back of his neck. He softened slightly, but was still extremely tense to your touch. You kissed up his neck slowly, leaving a trail of red marks as you went. He still stayed silent, but relaxed just a bit more. Perfect.

“That was the best sex I’ve ever had. Really. I loved every second, ok? I would have told you if something wasn’t right, I promise. ” You pressed a small kiss to his temple, an added layer of reassurance. He sighed, deeply, pressing you tighter into his chest.

“Are you sure I didn’t hurt you? I didn’t mean to, I just snapped, and-”

“I liked it, Matt. All of it. I like you. A lot, actually.”

You didn’t mean for that last part to slip out, to confess your deep feelings so soon. But Matt smiled in response, using his arms to squeeze you against him again. He kissed your forehead, then your nose, then your cheek, causing you to giggle. He kissed his way down all the way to your lips, giving you a quick peck before responding.

“I like you too. I’ve liked you for a while, actually. If you want, if you want, I’d like to take you out on a real date. Show you your worth more than a quick fuck. You’re… you’re incredible sweetheart. Let me show you how much.”

Your lips were on his in a heartbeat, trying to put all your happiness into one kiss. Your professor liked you. He liked you. He wanted to date you.

When did you fall asleep and wake up in a dream?

You broke the kiss, smiling against his lips as he smiled against yours. You didn’t break contact as you spoke, your forehead still against his in pure bliss.

“I’d love nothing more.”

FIN

taglist (lmk if you want to be added or removed!): @i-said-it-n-i-meant-itt-it @crazyxshit @peakyrogers @laura-palmer-del-rey @pettypartypooper @ferxaniti @m0chaminx @srquinnhexa @fairyofspring @mnxxlove @kayxvii @hisdoll107 @hellmoonsin @mattmurdock82 @zabblegrabble @leto-duke @baconmuffins1216 @laprvphette @flawssy227 @the-dragonsqueen @galaxysgal @leossmoonn @shakespeareanwannabe @dontsaypetertingle @iflostreturntobudcooper @aliceblisss @phantomkindalikejaiden @phoebe-danvers @sfr99 @twentyfirstcenturyfox @justlenastuff @btsforlif @optic-neenee @foxe @floof-butt @general-latino @tobyr68 @tatespillows @aimerriarkle @tooflef @trapped-in-this-love @wasicskosgirl @tiredpurpleee @sadgirlhours068 @imgonnaragnorockurshit @delmoyy @exhaustedfangirl @mylittlepimp @chvoswxtch @sapphicsong

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock x you #professor matt murdock #professor matt murdock x reader #daredevil smut #daredevil fanfiction

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asirensrage · 1 year

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How would each hashira from Kimetsu no academy react with the new teacher y/n assigned as a preschool teacher entering the academy. They won’t see her as much as she is not in the same grade level she’ll be teaching but when they do see her, are they in love with her? Do they see her as a good friend? Will some of them hate her? I want to include muchirio who is a student at the academy too. But what exactly might happen?

Okay! This took me a while to figure out (and remember what each of them does in that AU) but I think I have it down. This was a great choice because I've worked as a preschool teacher lol. I hope you like it!

The Set Up:

Starting a new job is always nerve-wracking, especially as a teacher. You not only have to get the respect of your fellow coworkers but your students as well. Luckily, things are a little easier as a preschool teacher. Kimetsu no Academy is a huge place that covers school from preschool to high school. While you’re generally in your own section, you still have met some of the staff and older students…

The Reactions

Sanemi: He learns you’re not afraid of him the moment you drag him away from where the children are sleeping and demand that he keep his tone down. You don’t care that he’s chasing down some delinquent student, if the children wake up before they’re ready, your day will be ten times harder. He admires you for the way you stand your ground and decides that he enjoys bantering with you. It’s hard to find someone who won’t run. Honestly, if he wasn’t as madly in love with Kanae, he could see himself being swayed to you. If either of you didn’t kill each other when you argued…

Shinobu: Shinobu is one of the first to meet you. She is brought along with Kanao by Kanae who comes to introduce herself and warn you about the way the school is haunted. At first, you don’t believe her, but there are times when things move, the light flicker or one of the toys makes noise on its own. It’s usually during naptime. After it happens one too many times, you seek Kanae out for help. She, Kanao and Shinobu bring you talismans and teach you the chant she uses. You become great friends with Kanae and start to see Shinobu and Kanao as younger sisters.

Gyomei: You can’t lie, at first glance Gyomei was intimidating but you’ve learned long ago that appearances don’t always tell the truth. It doesn’t take long for you to learn that Gyomei is a sweetheart who you can always rely on if you need assistance with something. Especially if it requires his strength or size. The two of you become good friends and Gyomei is usually your first choice when it comes to inviting someone into the class for assistance. The kids love him and he’s gentle enough back. It might be enough for you to have a bit of a crush, but you’re certainly not going to admit it.

Mitsuri: You need Mitsuri the first time you order pizza for the class. It’s a celebration and a pizza party is the perfect way to have it. She’s bright and bubbly and not that much younger than you. The two of you get on fabulously and it quickly escalates from her delivering pizzas to the two of you going shopping together. You will, however, never get over how much the girl can eat. It’s honestly impressive and you can’t help but wonder where she puts it all. God forbid anyone around you makes a comment though because you’re not afraid to stand up and defend her. She’s your best friend now after all.

Obanai: You don’t have too many interactions with Obanai, outside of staff meetings. But he does have a way of coming around and stopping by your classroom with Mitsuri is there. You know she has a crush on your fellow teacher so you’re not ashamed to casually mention when she’s coming by in his hearing distance. Especially since you can see how interested he is too. You’re just waiting for the day the two of them get together. You can’t wait to celebrate with Mitsuri and know you helped make it possible.

Giyuu: You like Giyuu. He’s straightforward and a bit intense, but he does actually listen to your concerns and thoughts. You find him to be a good companion to hang out with, and his quietness is a welcome reprieve from the screaming and incessant talking of preschoolers. The two of you bond telling the ridiculous stories of the students and you’re one of the few people who have successfully made him laugh out loud with one of the questions your students asked you. He has a crush, but he assumes you’re not interested so he doesn’t confess. He’d rather have your friendship than nothing.

Muichiro: You meet Muichiro and his classmates during a drill. The older kids come to help escort the younger children out and entertain them as they’re teaching them the proper way to react. You don’t really interact with him, you don’t have the need to, but you appreciate the care he and his friends show to the younger kids.

Kyojuro: Kyojuro was one of the first to welcome you to the school. He’s energetic, and caring and his willingness to get down and interact with the preschoolers, as well as throw himself fully into their games, makes him a welcome visitor. Kyojuro thinks it's admirable how you care for the children in your class and is always the first to volunteer with you when it comes to staying overnight for the security rotations. He doesn’t believe in ghosts, but you do so he’ll help with no complaints. He absolutely has a crush but he doesn’t want to push his admiration. He’ll wait until he’s confident that you may return his feelings and try to plan the perfect confession.

Tengen: Ngl, the first time you met, you put the fear of god into Tengen because he blew something up too close to your classroom during naptime. Needless to say, he admires how flashy you are. He did, however, listen and there is a scheduled time of silence where there’s a lack of explosions. At least near your building. Tengen finds you highly amusing and he’s the first to invite you out to any event he’s going to, even if he knows you’ll bring others like Giyuu and Mitsuri with you. Tengen is hopeful that Kyojuro wins your affection and will not hesitate to try to schedule group dates between the two of you and him and his wives.

#hashira reactions #hashira x reader #asks #meekermoo #demon slayer #kyojuro x reader #giyuu x reader #gyomei x reader

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throneofsapphics · 1 year

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Manorian x a depressed reader who thinks she's not enough and committed suicide

Like they're beside her bed for week and she's unconscious and they're asking themselves why?

mental prison

Manorian x Reader

Summary: Manon and Dorian try and figure out why you attempted.

Warnings: attempted suicide, mental health, blood, not proofread

A/N: i changed committing for attempted, thank you for the request!

The feeling was overwhelming. Like your brain took over, and it was all-consuming, the only thing you could focus on no matter how much anyone would tell you it wasn’t real. It was real to you, and you found it guiding your actions.

You were unconscious, and surrounded by blood when they found you. Dorian sprinted for a healer, Manon clutched your wrists, trying to stop the blood still flowing, and listening desperately for your heartbeat. It was so faint her immortal ears barely picked it up. Who the hell had done this? She couldn’t catch a whiff of anyone else's scent in the room and no traces of magic beside Dorians. It wasn’t possible, you wouldn’t have … but it was the only answer she could think of. Still, she pushed it out of her mind, she wouldn’t believe it - not unless you somehow survived and told her.

Dorian had to pull Manon back to let the healers do their job, holding her as they worked. He thanked the Gods they at least had magical healers in Rifthold now.

The healers told him what he knew was the truth, but exactly what he didn’t want to hear. Why would you do this to yourself? They showed you love at every corner, always listened to your doubts, and nothing made sense about this. He couldn’t find any reason or answer and it drove him crazy. He tried asking the healers, even asking a few of your trusted friends and they didn’t have any answers either.

The thing that rang in his mind most was why wouldn’t you tell him you were feeling this way? He supposes you didn’t have to, but did he mess up enough you couldn’t trust him? The healers said you’d survive, and the only way he’d find out is asking yourself.

Manon watched you with terrifying intensity for the week you were unconscious. They said you would live, but she always listened for your heartbeat, watched for your breathing, and held your hand when she could - cold and clammy, but not the kind that comes from the dead. Her thumb would frequently drift over the thin white line marring the inside of your wrist. It healed quickly, magic resorting your skin to almost how it was before. Underneath, she could still feel your pulse. Blood was still running through your veins, still pumping to your heart and mind, still keeping you alive despite your efforts. She wanted to hate you for doing this to yourself, hate you for being your own enemy but she couldn’t.

You were awake, but your eyes were heavy with fatigue, sleep, and maybe some kind of drug. You felt the soft bed underneath you, a thumb running over the scar on your wrist. It didn’t work, then, you had survived. Dread filled you with the questions you would have to answer. They would want an explanation you weren’t certain you could give. How do you explain that your mind feels like a prison? That you can’t get rid of the feelings and thoughts circling it, that this felt like the only way to free them and yourself?

#manorian x y/n #manorian x reader #throne of glass imagine #throne of glass x reader #manon blackbeak x y/n #manon blackbeak x reader #dorian havilliard x y/n #dorian havilliard x reader #poly!manorian x y/n #poly!manorian x reader #poly!manorian

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avatarvyakara · 1 year

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Okay, so my own particular take on the most recent “liar vs. liar” thing in My Adventures with Superman:

I do rather think it has to do with the quality of lie that both Lois and Clark are willing to put up with.

For Lois, long-standing lies are the issue. She doesn’t like to be kept in the dark about things, because of just how much trauma that holds for her. Lies that seemingly hold no purpose except some form of “protection” from the truth—protection which she should have some right to decide if she needs in any case. The truth needs to be heard, on as grand a scale as possible, because that’s what people deserve. And short-term lies to help break a greater truth, ones which will be resolved anyway once the bigger lie is gone? That’s an acceptable sacrifice. So it’s fine to lie to some new (and decidedly inexperienced) colleagues if it means getting to the bottom of stolen tech that could endanger the city or the country or the world. Not so much for someone who she feels like she’s known forever (despite it only being a few weeks) to keep from her a secret that’s incredibly important to her.

For Clark, dangerous lies are the problem. And, to a certain extent, selfish ones. Some secrets need to be kept—sometimes for the sanity or even safety of those who might know them. How would it have benefitted a ten-year-old boy to learn he wasn’t human? How could his parents, or Jimmy, or Lois be (even a little) safe if his mere existence put a target on their backs? But hiding things for vainglory, for greed, for a chance to get ahead—no. That’s not fair. That’s an abuse of something he’s had to do, his whole life. An abuse of the secrets that need to be kept. So keeping his secrets from one more person, no matter how much he cares about her? It’s not great—he even tried to tell her the truth—but it would only hurt everyone he loved if it got out, which is what she repeatedly said that she wanted to happen. (The it getting out bit, not the hurting loved ones bit.) It’s worse when it’s a lie to two new coworkers, potentially costing them their jobs, to get something that will only really benefit yourself.

…the thing is, I don’t think it’s that hard to explain this to either of them. Once cooler heads prevail, and they both realize they’ve hurt the other. Because fundamentally, they’re both capable of…well, maybe not breaking the rules they live by, but allowing for exceptions. Respecting private matters and having a little faith. Because they’re both fundamentally good people. And they care about each other.

So here’s to My Adventures with Superman, telling us a balanced story about two people who hate liars but who sometimes have to lie, and to a (please, please, let these lovebirds get back on track) successful resolution next episode.

…now, what poor old Jimmy is going to make of this whole debacle is just a teensy bit harder to gauge.

#my adventures with superman #lois lane #clark kent #jimmy olsen #spoilers #they’re both honourable people #they just come at it from different angles #clois #avie’s ramblings

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sl33paholics · 1 year

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Can't Be Fulfilled

Jotaro Kujo x Black!Female reader

Warning(s): Mentions of divorce, infidelity, domestic v¡olence, arguing, angst, listen the shit is depressing alr? Felt like writing one bc I got tired of the smut. Can be triggering into some readers.

We're close to 40 followers. Thx everyone 🤲🏾

"I don't think this is going to work anymore..."

You stood near the bedroom door with your hand on your elbow, looking at your husband on the bed before staring at the other side of the room as your eyes quickly met the ground. The room was completely silent, save for the quiet sounds of your breathing and the sound of your heart beating in your chest.

"What do you mean?"

You flinched. "Just... I'm tired of this. All of this, Jotaro." You sighed, turning your head slightly toward him. "All of it...this is too much. Days, weeks, hell, even a month of you being away because of your work, it's not fair." Your voice was barely audible through your closed teeth. Tears stung your eyes, but you weren't ready to give in yet. You had been trying so hard not to break down, but it just wasn't working out. You had tried to keep it together for years but it wasn't possible anymore. You watched as Jotaro put his book aside on the nightstand right next to the bed and sat straight up, facing your direction. "It ain't fair...for me...for Jolyne." He opened his mouth to say something, but you interrupted him, continuing. "And it's not fair for you either, Jotaro." His expression grew grim after your last statement, knowing that he had failed you once again, but he wasn't expecting this.

"Y/N...don't tell me what I think you're trying to say." His tone sounded more serious than usual. "Are you saying...you want us to split up? Is that what you're getting at? Y/N...we can make this work. We always have-"

"Yes," you said quietly. "I tolerated your absence for these years but you have to understand how things are now, Jotaro. Our daughter is growing up and as the years go by I don't want her to..." You paused. "Not this again."

Jotaro didn't let you finish. "She's seven years old." You wanted to respond but Jotaro continued anyway. "I work my ass off to provide for this family. I try. You know I try, Y/N. Every day." He took a deep breath and stared at his hands resting in his lap. "To keep both of you safe. To make sure we'll be okay. And this is how you repay me? With this? This bullshit? This stupid fucking arrangement of yours?" The tears were streaming down your face silently now and you felt yourself crumple into yourself further. Jotaro finally stood up. "We've had this conversation before, Y/N."

"I'm sorry," you choked out between sobs. "I'm sorry, Jotaro, I am. But you have to listen to me." Your voice was small and soft. "You don't know how many times Jolyne asks me when you're going to be home or if you're coming back, at all. When I'm bathing her, her bus dropping her off, braiding her hair, or even reading her to sleep."

Jotaro scoffed and stepped closer to you. "She misses her daddy." You could feel his eyes bore holes into you. "Even if she doesn't talk about it." He stopped close enough to touch you but still far enough not to scare you.

"She does," Jotaro responded. "But we shouldn't split up over this Y/N I told you whenever I got the job, that I won't be here as often. I'll try to respond when I can or if I have time off. What about that can't you understand?" Jotaro's voice rose with each word, becoming louder until you were sure the neighbors would hear what he was saying. You bit your lip and averted your eyes from his gaze. The truth was, you hated when he used this argument against you. It made everything hurt. Made everything worse.

"Do NOT try to pin this on ME!" you clapped back, seeing Jotaro startled, which is rare. "Of course I understand! I'm not stupid, JoJo! If it wasn't for your goddamn job, we wouldn't be having this discussion! Talking to me as if I have no damn sense, I supported you when you were pursuing your degree!" finally turning to look him in his ocean eyes. "Can't you see our marriage is falling apart?!" Your voice broke at the end. "I make sure to text you every morning, leave a voicemail every time you don't pick up the fucking phone, even LETTERS! It makes me believe something happened to you!" you continued.

"That's because I'm WORKING! I can't be on or even near my phone every second of the hour to respond to you. What's wrong with you, woman?!" Jotaro shook his head. "You have to understand that I'm stressed out too, you know? Not only with work but make sure to at least keep in touch with you every time I have the chance to!" he shot back. You pushed him out of your way, angrily stomping out of your shared bedroom into the hallway. Jotaro followed behind you as if his life depended on it and you heard him call you an idiot. You ignored him. You kept heading towards the living room.

Jotaro came to a halt when he saw packed luggage on the ground. "What the fuck is this?" he asked.

"I'm serious, Jotaro. This isn't going to work out no more," you replied without looking at him. He grabbed you by your arm and spun you around to face him. You tried to yank your arm out of his grasp but failed, you were nowhere near his level of strength. The sharp pain of being pinned against the wall. "Let go of me-" "You got some damn nerve!" Jotaro roared out in your face, quickly shutting you up. "Y/N, we are NOT getting this divorce! We've had our ups and downs, I admit that. But we always work it out one way or another, you're NOT leaving me for another guy who you think that's ten times better than me!" "Ten times better?" you echoed incredulously. Jotaro looked like he was getting ready to explode, the veins in his forehead bulging dangerously, and his lips turned downward into a frown. "I never said I was cheating on you, I wouldn't do that! Just because we don't have sex as much anymore, doesn't mean I would cheat!" you screamed.

Nothing but back and forth. It was for certain that your neighbors could hear you two bickering and the police were called. If only you two could see the green-eyed little girl peaking through her slightly cracked door watching and clutching onto the dolphin plushie her dear father gifted on her birthday. The sad expression on Jolyne's face watching her parents argue. She knew it was bad news. It was very alarming news. Sickening. Disgusting. Horrifying. Jolyne was scared and confused. She knew her parents loved each other deeply. How could they fight like this?

"You ain't leaving. That's final." Jotaro stared into your dark brown-colored eyes before letting your arms go, watching you slowly slip to the ground as you slightly sobbed in your hands. He stood there before kneeling to your level, gently wrapping his arms around you, embracing you in a hug. "I'm sorry, dear," Jotaro said quietly. "I know it feels like I'm abandoning you, but please believe me when I say we will work this out, together." You nodded, sniffling and leaning further into his hold. You closed your eyes and gave into his embrace.

You can't help but be disillusioned.

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vorchagirl · 3 months

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Reyes x Sirius Reyes x Cerys Harry x Cerys Harry Sara..i want to hear them all! 🍬 Who is their biggest supporter (friend, family, etc)? 🤎 How do they comfort each other? 🖤 What is their biggest regret in their relationship so far (or in the future, if you don't mind giving spoilers)? 💋 What is their favorite place to kiss their partner? Do either enjoy 'leaving a mark'?

Reyes x Sirius

1. Who is their biggest supporter?

Definitely Liam, which might seem strange, but he is Sirius' best friend. After Sirius & Reyes broke up after High Noon, he could see how badly what had happened was affecting Sirius' mental heath - losing her parents and then discovering the man she loved had planned to seduce and use her and may have even been responsible for her torture was too much for her. She was trying, possibly without being aware of it, to get herself killed, and even though Liam wasn't entirely sure of Reyes at that point, he knew Reyes did care for her and was the only one who would be able to reach her. So he got them back together.

2. How do they comfort each other?

Cerys knows that Reyes enjoys physical affection - sex, kisses, hugs etc. Honestly, even just being close to Sirius makes him feel better. She isn't above buying him a nice bottle of whiskey either.

Sirius enjoys time away from her job - either at Reyes' cabin or at the hot springs. But she takes comfort in being alone with him, and Reyes is always happy to make things for her once his hold on Kadara is firm.

3. What is their biggest regret?

Oooh boy. Reyes really regrets his original plan to seduce Sirius and use her influence and power in his fight against Sloane. Once he fell for her and realised how much Sirius cared for him, he panicked. He wanted to tell her the truth, but he was terrified that she would hate him. He knew how bad things would look, but he wanted to be honest with her. In retrospect he probably wouldn't be quite so honest about his original intentions.

Without spoiling the ending of Sweet Little Lies (if you haven't read it), Sirius regrets lying to Reyes and going after the remaining Outcasts and scientists herself. But she was dealing with trauma and wasn't thinking straight.

4. What is their favourite place to kiss their partner?

Reyes enjoys kisses on the lips best, but he'd happily kiss every square inch of Sirius. He finds her unbelievably sexy and he does enjoy seeing his mark on her.

Sirius has a real thing with kissing the scar on Reyes' chest. It reminds her how close she came to losing him, and how lucky she is to still have him.

Reyes x Cerys & Cerys x Harry

1. Who is their biggest supporter?

Vetra is a pretty big fan of both Reyes and Harry being with Cerys, and she supports her friend unconditionally. But honestly, Cerys' brother Scott is a pretty big supporter of Reyes and Cerys - he loves seeing his sister happy, and he knows how much she loves Reyes. He's less thrilled when he finds out she's also seeing Harry, but he comes around.

The biggest supporter of Harry and Cerys is probably Lexi, who knows that although Harry might have spent many a year playing the field, he genuinely loves Cerys and he's spent a long time looking for his soul mate.

2. How do they comfort each other?

Reyes and Cerys use physical closeness - just holding each other and being there for each other gives them comfort. Both of them work high stress jobs that are physically and mentally demanding, and they often just need to lie with each other in a dark room and they'll feel a little better.

Harry is always happy to give Cerys hugs when she needs it, but he's a little more practical than Reyes. If Cerys is upset, he'll cook her a delicious meal, break out some wine, and make sure she has something sweet for dessert.

3. What is their biggest regret?

That's easy - Reyes regrets that he had to almost kill Cerys and cause her so much pain when he temporarily separated her from SAM. It was done in the interest of saving her, but he bitterly regrets deceiving and hurting her. Her screams aren't something he'll easily forget.

Harry’s biggest regret is something he's not proud of and something he would never admit to anyone. But he bitterly regrets not pursuing Cerys when she came onto him after Alec died. If he'd hooked up with her back then, he knows that she probably would never have fallen for Reyes, and he'd have her to himself. He would never admit this out loud, and he's happy with their relationship as it is, but deep down he regrets trying to be the good guy and pushing her away.

Cerys regrets many many many of her impulsive actions. Too many to list. But anything that causes Reyes or Harry pain is high up on the list.

4. What is their favourite place to kiss their partner?

Reyes loves kissing Cerys' inner thighs and making her giggle and squirm. He doesn't mind leaving his mark, but it isn't something he aims to do.

Harry enjoys kissing Cerys on the neck, and yes, he absolutely loves leaving his mark on her. The side of her neck and the back of her neck - he finds it very sexy.

Cerys likes kissing the boys on the mouth. She's fascinated by the fact that they both kiss so differently.

Thank you so much for the ask! I wasn't sure if you wanted to know anything about Sage and Reyes as well, but just let me know if you do ^_^

#mass effect andromeda #reyder #harry carlyle #reyes vidal #cerys Ryder #Sirius ryder #ask

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resident-gay-bitch · 1 year

Text

Day Four of @steddie-week - familiar / hurt-comfort / here come the tears

find the previous day here :)

Steve was sitting on the couch in the Munson trailer, a place he now called his second home, with tears in his eyes and a heavy heart. He had his knees curled up to his chest, and he was chewing on his thumbnail, listening to the broken sobs of Eddie down the hall.

Today was a bad day. They’d gotten home from Eddie’s physiotherapy appointment this morning feeling like shit. Eddie wasn’t making much progress. He still couldn’t walk without leaning on something, and he didn’t like using his walker. But today he kept trying to walk through the beams on either side of him in the appointment, and his legs kept buckling. He got angry with himself, blamed himself for the lack of progress, and called himself some really shitty things that Steve just couldn’t stand for.

Then, Eddie tried getting his guitar down on his own, and he couldn’t quite reach it from the bed, and he tore a stitch open. He wouldn’t let Steve fix it because when he was really upset with himself, he wouldn’t let anyone touch him. It made him feel worse. It took two hours of tear filled conversation and arguing on opposite sides of the room for Eddie to let Steve help him.

Then Eddie had gone to sleep, and slept awkwardly on his bad shoulder, and woke up in a shit mood, and it didn’t help that he hadn’t eaten since last night either. Steve tried his best to stay calm and to be responsible. Eddie’s drastic mood swings and bratty behaviour were a tri-weekly occurrence at least. Healing was a hard task, and the truth about Chrissy had only recently properly started to sink in, the initial shock of it all long gone.

Steve hated seeing Eddie hurt like this, and he hated not knowing how to help him.

So he just stayed calm and listened. He listened for the things that Eddie didn’t say to understand what he actually needed.

After Steve had gotten some food in him, and he’d finished the washing up, he came back into the room to find Eddie looking at the page of the Cheer Squad in last year's yearbook. He was snotty nosed and distraught. Steve thought he’d done a good job of hiding that last night, but apparently not.

Eddie would often look at it and make himself feel worse about it, he’d tell Steve horrible things about himself and how he deserved to feel like this, and how it was his fault and Steve would feel sick listening to it. He couldn’t stand to hear Eddie talk about himself in such a disgusting way, he deserved so much more. So after a talk with Wayne, they decided to hide the year book and only leave it lying around when Eddie was in a well enough headspace to look at it and openly communicate his feelings. When he was in a space where accepting love and kindness and compassion was a possibility.

Today most certainly wasn’t one of those days, and so when he saw the book in Eddie’s hands he couldn’t help the anger that bubbled up inside him. He was already in defence mode, ready to fight whatever horrible shit Eddie was about to say.

“Should have been me.” He said simply, his voice a little taught, “Should have been my bones breaking.”

“No, it shouldn’t have.” Steve pressed back, moving to take the book away.

Eddie fired him an angry eye and moved it out of Steves grasp, “Should have been me that fucking died!” He glared at Steve and pushed him away, “You should have let me die!”

“I’d never fucking do that.” Steve tried to steal the book back.

“Fucking hell- you should have left me- why’d you save me?” Eddie sobbed, still angry, “You stupid fucking- I deserve to be dead. How could you love me? How? I’m- I’m a fucking murderer.”

“No you’re not.” Steve said simply, this bit practically rehearsed, he tried for the book again, “You’re not a murderer, I love you. I love you.”

“You shouldn’t!” Eddie cried, pulling the book away again, “Let me fucking die- just kill me. Let it be me.”

“It’s too goddamn late for that, Eddie. S’not gonna do shit.” Steve managed to get a hand on the book and they fought over it for a moment.

“She deserved more-”

“You deserve more-”

Steve tugged and then they heard a rip.

Steve stumbled back and looked at his hand to find the page Eddie was looking at in his hand, the big portrait of Chrissy with the title ‘Cheer Captain’ ripped clean in half. Steve had the top of her ponytail and one bright eye, the corner of her smile and a pearl earring in his hand, and Eddie had the book that still had her bright smile, a sparkling eye, and her shoulders fit in her cheer uniform.

Eddie made a broken sound, pure hurt.

Steve felt so guilty.

“I’m- I’m sorry.” He launched himself forward, trying to stick the pages back together, “I- I’ll fix it, I’ll-”

“Get out.” Eddie said, his voice dripping with anger, but it was low. So low it was scary. Like Steve had just done the worst thing in the world and there was no coming back from this. Steve froze, blinking wet eyes at Eddie. Eddie flashed him a mean snarl and shouted, “Get out!”

Steve stumbled back, his tone shocking him. He looked at Eddie for a second, feeling more guilty than ever, and then he ran.

He rushed out of the room, and shut the door, and curled in on himself on the couch, and listened to Eddie’s crying as a punishment. Because he deserved it. He just ruined the one thing Eddie had of her.

“You okay, son?” Wayne's voice snapped Steve from his daze, he didn’t hear the man get in from visiting Scott, and he didn’t realise Eddie’s crying had quieted.

How long has he been sitting here?

Steve shook his head.

“What’s going on?”

“I ripped it.” Steve said.

“What, Steve?” Wayne asked, moving to sit on the coffee table in front of him.

“He- he was having a bad day, so I hid the book- but- but he found it, and I tried to take it, but I-” He swallowed the lump in his throat, “Her face. I- I ripped it. I broke it. I ruined it!”

Wayne took a deep breath in and put his hand over Steves, “Shh, kid.”

“He hates me.” Steve mutered, eyes watering again.

“No, he aint.” He said, sure of it, “He’s just hurtin. It’s a picture, Steve. We can get ‘im another one.”

“I’m sorry.” Steve sobbed.

“Ain't nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout, son.” Wayne sighed and fluffed Steve’s hair, “You was just tryna do the right thing. You do too much good for that boy- you ain’t needa be sorry ‘bout nothin’, ‘kay?”

Steve nodded and sobbed some more.

“Gimme a minute.” Wayne sighed and stood up, “I’ll talk some sense into ‘im.”

Steve nodded again, and watched Wayne walk down the hall and quietly slip into Eddie’s room. He heard some muffled talking, some raised voices but he couldn’t make out the words, and then he heard crying. Eddie’s crying again.

Steve hated being the reason for Eddie’s tears so much.

He looked up to see Wayne standing in the doorway of Eddie’s room, and then he was being waved down the hall.

Steve's feet carried him there before he could even process it. Wayne pushed open the door and slung an arm around Steve's shoulders, pulling them both inside. Eddie looked so broken, his cheeks red and eyes puffy, snot around his nose, hugging his knees. He looked so beautiful. Eddie always looked so beautiful.

“Ed?” Wayne asked, giving Eddie a particular look. It was one a father would give their child when they were subtly trying to get them to do or say something, so it looked like it was coming from the child. An encouraging sort of look.

“I’m sorry.” Eddie muttered, his voice very small and broken.

“No- no, I’m sorry.” Steve started, and Wayne held him a little tighter.

“No.” Eddie swallowed and blinked up at Steve with his big, wet, baby cow eyes, “I’m sorry for saying those things again. You- you know I didn’t mean it.”

Steve nodded.

“I don’t want to die- I’m… I’m so sorry I said that to you.”

“It’s okay.” Steve felt a few hot tears run down his cheeks, “I know you didn’t mean them.”

Eddie nodded, “And I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“I’m sorry I broke your picture-”

“It’s just a picture.” Eddie smiled small, “I can find another one.”

“Still.” Steve muttered and swallowed the lump in his throat.

Eddie shook his head, “You were just trying to help me.” He sniffled, “I love you so much.”

Steve sobbed and took a little step forward. Wayne gave him a little pet on the back and Steve collapsed onto the bed and cradled Eddie to his chest, “I love you so much, too.” He kissed his part.

Eddie sobbed into his chest and started to soak his - Eddie’s - shirt. Steve held him and pracally cried enough to wash Eddie’s greasy hair at this point. They heard Wayne sigh and then the door clicked shut, and they knew they had their privacy again.

“You deserve better.” Eddie muttered.

“How could you say that?” Steve choked out, holding him impossibly tighter, “You are everything to me.”

“You deserve better than to love someone that has a death wish any time things get a little hard.” Eddie curled his arms around Steve and pressed his face into the crevice of his neck, “You deserve someone who doesn’t hurt you every time you try to help them.”

Steve kissed the top of his head, “It’s not every time.”

Eddie choked on a small laugh, “You shouldn’t have to love someone so broken, Stevie.”

Steve pulled back and wiped Eddie’s tears with his thumbs, “You’re not broken, love. You’re just healing, and so am I, and that’s hard. It’s so hard.” He kissed Eddie on the forehead, “I’m so proud of you. You’re doing the best you can, and that’s amazing, and I’m going to love you every step of the way, baby.”

“You shouldn’t have to-”

“But I do.” Steve said simply, and then he kissed him, “And I will, forever. I couldn’t not love you if I tried.”

Eddie sobbed and fell back into Steves arms, and he pressed little wet kisses all over Steve's shoulder and neck, “I love you- I love you so much.”

“I love you so much too.” Steve sifted his fingers through Eddie’s hair and scrunched at his scalp, the way he knew Eddie loved the most, “You’re gonna be okay, love. I’ve got you.”

Eddie clung onto him for a while longer, and eventually the crying stopped and they were just calm again. They weren’t sure how much time had passed, but eventually there was a soft knock on the door and Wayne was poking his head in.

“I heard it had gone quiet in here for a while.” He whispered, “Feeling a bit better?”

They both nodded.

“You boys are good.” Wayne smiled, “I ah… I gave Joyce Byers a call to see what I could do about the photo, and she gave Nancy a call, since she’s on the news paper, and she’s gonna try and get you a copy or two of Chrissy’s picture.”

Eddie sobbed again, lifting his head to rest his chin on Steve's shoulder to look at his uncle, “Thank you.”

“Ain’t no problem.” He huffed happily, “Might be a little while ‘fore she can get it, so I trieda tape it back together.”

He held out a page that had a clear big rip through it, and tape stuck in all different directions over it. Steve was very fond of Uncle Wayne, the man was truely sweet as fucking sugar, in the weirdest ways. Much like Eddie, in that sense. He could tell why Eddie is the way he is.

Eddie smiled and almost laughed a little as he reached out for the page, “Thank you, Wayne.”

“Ain’t nothin’ special, but, she’ll do.” He shrugged.

“She’ll do.” Eddie smiled.

“C’mon, got dinner reader and Rocky Horror loaded up for ya boys.”

“We’ll be out in a sec.”

“Thank you, Wayne.” Steve smiled at the man before he left the room.

Eddie wiped his eyes and looked at the picture, sitting back up before he handed it to Steve, “Take it.”

“Still not feeling too good?”

Eddie shook his head, “Maybe tomorrow.”

“Maybe tomorrow.” Steve smiled and took the picture, “You hungry.”

Eddie nodded.

“Okay.” Steve put the picture down on the bed, making a mental note to come back for it in a second. He hopped up and reached a hand out for Eddie, “Come here, love.”

Eddie smiled and shuffled forward until he had both hands in Steves. Steve pulled him up and wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist and lifted him to stand. Eddie clung onto Steve, and they slowly started to walk together.

“There ya go.” Steve muttered quietly to him, “You’re doing great.”

Eddie siffled and watched his feet as they moved. It was slow, much slower than Eddie would have liked to move, but his legs didn’t buckle once, so it was a win for both of them. Steve helped him sit down on the couch and set the pillows up exactly how Eddie liked them to be these days, and threw the ratty old crocheted blanket that his mother made over his boyfriend's lap, and kissed his forehead.

“Good job.” Steve smiled and scruffed his hair dotingly, “You want some juice?”

Eddie nodded, and Steve scurried off to the kitchen to pour them both some juice. Wayne bought over their dinner, and they all settled into the couch. Steve was smushed between Eddie and Wayne, just as he liked it, feeling very comforted by his new little family. Eddie was sitting on the edge of the couch with enough space to stretch out if he needed, and so he didn’t feel crowded, and he crossed his legs and made sure one knee was touching Steve at all times. And Wayne leant against the arm of the sofa because he liked his own space, and Steve made sure not to touch him, but he did like to sit right by them on bad days like this.

It was their little routine.

Someone would make up after a fight, they’d have a good warm meal, and they’d straddle up on the couch and watch one of Eddie’s favourites (usually Rocky) whilst they ate. Then Wayne would doze off on the end, and then Eddie would. And then Steve would carry Eddie to bed and tuck him in, and he’d help lay Wayne down and make sure he had a blanket. Then he’d go lay down with the man he loved, and hold him as he drifted off to sleep.

read Day Five here

\/ a dodgy art piece for this one \/

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rise-my-angel · 17 hours

Note

Can you do reader and theon’s friendship in the your og series first and then the Modern AU?

I thought doing mini headcanon style might be easier, so let's start with main series hotgw:

Because Theon is the captain of your personal guard, he spends a significant amount of time with you. If he isn't on his off time, or dealing with his men, he's with you. So since coming back he and you are together a lot.

Theon is endlessly amused by how little you let anyone touch the baby. Pointing out the maids just want to help but still dismisses them because he can see the look on your face isn't happy about the suggestion they watch the baby for a while so you can relax

Normally, once little Eddard is asleep, you enlist him into helping with whatever youre doing

Normally you're doing a lot of Jons really tedious behind the scenes paper work and you make Theon help you since he's used to this sort of work from when he was Ned Starks ward

A lot of this time is spent bantering. It's the most normal you two feel. You make fun of the dumb letters Jon gets sent, Theon jokes about how boring Jons job really is and then teases you for wanting to do the boring parts. Saying its only because your boring.

He doesn't actively interact with little Eddard, since he knows your sensitive about him, but you like to encourage the baby when hes in your arms to let Theon say hi. He's actually quite good with him, it reminds him of when Rickon was that small and how much he enjoyed that stage.

Its actually now a lot like it used to be. You and Theon are very different people now, but your day to day lives are a lot like when you were both wards under the Starks.

Theon doesn't get involved in a lot of active drama involving you, since much of his life is just ensuring you dont walk out into a snowstorm barefoot and never come back. He has enough to do trying to wrangle you in from doing shit he knows Jon wouldnt want you doing. Which is what you used to do for him, so he wouldn;t get in trouble with Ned. The roles are reversed.

He doesn't want to talk about Yara. She's the sister that abandonded him, and you're the sister he chose himself. And his real sister tried to kill Jon, potentially the baby, and kidnap you to bring you to Euron and despite what else she did afterwards that redeemed her, he doesnt care. She's done too much to him and the people he loves. He doesnt want to talk about her with you, because he wants to keep that part of his life away from you now. Knowing Euron is involved, he wants to keep you as far from the rest of the Greyjoys as possible including her.

He has a very amusing side friendship with Olly and Gendry both, whom really put to test his wit considering how being so lowborn meant they are used to saying what they want.

You two have never discussed Ramsay since Jon executed him. Neither of you discuss how Ramsay would do things to you and make Theon watch, or worse look each other in the eye when it happened. He never brings up the even worse things he knows Ramsay forced you do to, and you never bring up the horrible things Ramsay did to him. It's a silent trauma you both can look at each other and feel, but neither of you want to go back there. Deep down you're both still far too scared to talk about Ramsay again with each other. You both went through so much side by side that no one else can understand and it's terrifying to go back to that.

You have begun asking more and more about Euron though, and thats made Theon worry. That you might be severely underplaying whats been going on with Euron towards you, and that you might also not be telling the whole truth to Jon either. And that also scares him, since he knows as bad as Ramsay was, Euron is worse, and Euron is alive, out there, wants you, and is way smarter and more terrifying then Ramsay ever was.

Their modern!au friendship has a lot less hangups, I promise.

Neither of you ever hated each other. On the other hand, you both were easy friends rather quickly. You both had difficult fathers and distant families, you both were spending much time in the North as outsiders, and you both shared a lot of the same interests.

You both would go out into the wolfswood and see who could climb the highest rock side cliff without any saftey gear, much to the Starks dismay. You were both very competitive with just the other to the point really thats what bonded you.

You never had any brothers, and Theon barley knows his sister, so it was like a match made in hell. You both found siblings in the other and have treated each other like it ever since.

On multiple occasions when you lived five hours away with Karl Tanner, Robb and Jon would have to talk him out of driving up there and beating the shit out of him anytime you'd post something worrying online. Everyone was worried, but Theon felt that big brother instinct to go defend you and drag your ass back to Winterfell.

You both have video games you love to play, but Theon also has a better ability to play them for way longer then you, so sometimes you end up laying on the couch watching him play something like its a movie, and you just talk non stop about whatever.

Theons known Jon was in love with you for way longer then anyone else, save for Ned. He could see it clear as day and would make jokes about you and Jon that you never picked up on were supposed to be hints. Jon would drive you to meet somewhere and be a bit late, and Theon always joked "You two were so busy making out you couldn't be bothered to show up on time?" But you never took the bait because you never realized it was bait.

What he didnt see coming, was you having feelings for Jon back. You are such a closed book about things like that, so every boyfriend has taken him off guard. He hated Karl, he fucking hated Ramsay, but he likes and trusts Jon. Its nice, not having to worry about your boyfriend hurting you for once.

Then Robb starts causing tension between you and him, and himself and Jon. He puts it together just as fast as he did realizing Jon was in love with you. He knows also, your fucking oblivious to it and he'd prefer it stays that way.

He doesn't want the two guys he's grown up like a brother to, to cause issues over you, the girl Theon grew up seeing as a sister to him.

He's been the most normal towards you, not changing the way he talks or acts with you at all, and lately, he can tell that you are more then releived for it. You have a diner you both go to, some hole in the wall place no one but its locals and you two know about. Its a nice getaway when Robb and Jon are tensing up the house.

He drives you out there, you have dinner and somehow the best coffee in existence, and you two do whatever. Go to the wolfswood and rock climb, see a drive in movie and make jokes about what part of the movie youre supposed to start making out during.

Theons the only one right now who treats you like normal, and it's been your lifeline for months. The only one truly keeping you grounded and outside of your own head.

I hope any of these were what you were sort of hoping for!

#writing hotgw reader and theon is some of my most easy content #their friendship just comes so naturally to me

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yooniesim · 7 months

Note

I REALLY don't want to come off as mean because I understand what it's like to struggle financially and the stress that puts you under, but I really really think it'd be for the best if you stopped using curseforge, Ceci.

Please do early access if you must! We get that it's not a matter of greed but rather a matter of survival, but please please use the means less damaging to others while keeping yourself healthy. Sims politics is nothing compared to a genocide. I hope you think about it, and I hope you can meditate on this choice. My thoughts are with you and your family 💜

Thank you for this kind comment, nonny! 💜

Honestly, I have considered it. Having a paywall is the last thing I want to do, but after living under this much financial strain for around a year now... well, it's weighing on me. As is using curseforge in the first place. I'll be honest- this month, I'll get $50 from cf. For the whole month. Sometimes it's more if I have points leftover from the previous month (so like $100 in one month), but usually that's the average. Having to use it for such (relatively) little money and dealing with the guilt of using it and the hate that results is pretty damn tough, I'll tell you that much. Like, curseforge fucking sucks and even beyond the boycott I resent the hell out of it at this point. I literally hate it and want to delete it so bad but it's the reason I was even able to even buy my meds this month. I've been working on making my patreon have better benefits without having an actual paywall, and some amazing people have kindly donated, but the amount per month varies so much it's tough to rely on. I'm really getting to be at a loss of what to do at this point. I've been exploring every other possible avenue of extra money I can that fits with my current job schedule, I do other freelance work online on top of that and cc making, and sell any stuff I have left from my collecting days. But I'm still in the red every month and it fucking sucks man. And then to come on here and have people say you love/support genocide, while researching and finding out even more about how Overwolf fucking sucks and trying to figure out how to help the boycott, then people just straight up lie about what you said so others will gossip about you publicly like middle schoolers- it's seriously awful all around. Sorry to vent at you nonny, but it's honestly depressing.

I'm on the verge of just saying fuck it, but the truth is, I'm scared to. The bottom line is that I can't function without my meds, and no one here on tumblr is gonna be with me irl to help me or pick my ass up, you know what I mean? When I log off here, simblr doesn't matter, I'm the one that deals with my own life and any negatives of that. And no matter what I do online or irl activism wise, I have this shit haunting me in the back of my mind. It feels like selling your damn soul for 50 fucking dollars, man. And how pathetic is that, you know? I guess it probably sounds like a simple choice to everyone else, but it isn't. I'm still deciding what to do and hoping, praying, that a few opportunities I'm trying to get irl yield some results. Cos like, even with CF, I'm kinda screwed either way at this point lol. I don't know. What does it even matter, right? I'll consider the early access option, but it's more probable I just quit CF and not do any paywall/CC making in general before that happens. I think if I did early access all my want to be a cc creator would suck out of my body even more than it is now. And boy has it fucking waned ever since I started posting on CF. I don't know. It's literally midnight and I think I need to sleep on it- I was supposed to already be asleep, but I saw your ask and had to answer it, oops. Sorry to ramble, nonny. Thanks again for the ask and being understanding 💜

#asks #ceci speaks #anonymous #negative #on my part not yours #highkey depressing sorry lol #hopefully ill have a better plan tomorrow/the next few days

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the-boy-meets-evil · 2 years

Text

tell me how it got this way - ch.2 (jjk)

pairing: jungkook x f.reader (in this chapter) genre: est. fwb, past relationships | angst, fluff, smut (not in every chapter) rating: explicit (this chapter), minors DNI word count: ~5.8k summary: you've survived a panic attack over hearing from your former best friend for the first time in over 5 years. what better way to celebrate than a gala? warnings: this contains explicit smut (see warnings), swearing, mentions of drinking, we meet editor namjoon, side yoonmin, mentions of sex as a coping mechanism (only light), jungkook calls reader angel smut warnings: teasing, oral sex (f receiving, kind of m receiving), fingering, briefest mention of a hand job, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms thank yous: @ugh-yoongi & @hot-soop for always reading and assuring me that i'm not crazy. and thank you to @playmetheclassics for listening to me talk through things prev | masterlist | next

Even though Namjoon is a relatively early riser, he always agrees to schedule breakfast meetings with you for 10am. It’s a compromise. He wants to start much closer to 8am and you prefer lunch meetings, or even dinner, if you’re honest. So, even though you think you got the worse end of the deal, you still appreciate that he does it for you. His hours are very different from yours and he’s calmed down a bit during the time you’ve been working together. No matter what he told anyone, he likes you and it shows in the way he accommodates you.

You wouldn’t be you if you were on time and unsurprisingly he beats you to the restaurant. There’s something to be said for consistency, so why mess up your dynamic now? His back is to you, a crisp white dress shirt fitted tight to his muscular frame paired with dress pants. It’s a classic, almost plain look, that somehow always seems to work on him. When you hasten to join him, you notice that he’s at least rolled up the sleeves and left the top bit unbuttoned. He isn’t wearing a tie, either, and you take this as a win in getting him to relax.

“Well you look great,” he says as a greeting and smirks at the scowl you shoot in his direction.

“I was up late,” you say and sigh, “and then I woke up early to get some more writing in.”

“Should I assume that means you’re not finished yet?” Namjoon raises an eyebrow and you look down at your plate. You hate disappointing him.

“I’m sorry, something came up and I…” you start before you look up at the sound of Namjoon chuckling. This can’t possibly mean anything good for you. “You’re laughing. Why are you laughing?”

“It’s fine,” he shrugs, far more at ease than usual for you missing a deadline. “The actual deadline isn’t until next week anyway.”

“I...what?” The question comes out in a splutter. “Namjoon, did you lie to me?”

“Lie is an ugly word,” he tuts. “Let’s just say I looked at past history and engaged in some creative truth telling.”

Your mouth gapes open, completely unable to process the role reversal that’s currently happening. “You said it was about my chapter that’s due.”

“And it is,” he insists.

“But it’s not due yet,” you protest and he looks up, still smug.

“Would you have come if I told you that your due date wasn’t really until next week?” Namjoon asks and you open your mouth to answer, but he cuts you off. “Exactly. Besides, it’s good for you to get out during normal working hours.”

You’re not sure who this person is that’s sitting across from you, because it certainly is not your uptight editor who has given you no less than 43 lectures about the importance of meeting deadlines. This cannot possibly be the same man that suggested you resort to the cliche of locking yourself away at some resort or cabin in the woods (which was never an option, you’ve seen the true crime documentaries) until you finished your last book. No, there’s something distinctly different about him and you realize: he’s smiling. His smile is soft and confident, dimples prominent on his cheeks, as he looks down at a menu you know full well he’s memorized.

It takes every ounce of strength you possess to keep from asking him what’s gotten into him. Or, you wonder suddenly, who. You’ve never exactly talked about relationships, well you definitely haven’t talked about his relationships. And you know now isn’t the time, when he’s in a good mood you’d like to capitalize on.

Almost a week goes by and you haven't heard from Hoseok again, which you think might be for the best. You have enough on your plate as it is with making sure you don’t miss your upcoming deadline, which Namjoon says absolutely is the real deadline this time. That’s fine, though, you just really have a bit of polishing to do and it’s ready to send over to him to read over. This is your least favorite part. You never care if the critics like it or not, because they don’t even seem to know what they like from one day to the next. The editing part is stressful though.

Instead of looking it over again, you’re turning this way and that in the full length mirror to test the angles. You chose a floor-length black dress with a high halter neck that is completely open in the back from your neck all the way down to the small of your back. It hugs tight to your body down to your hips and then loosens, due in part to the slit that comes all the way up to your mid thigh. Your hair is pulled elegantly back into a bun of curls off center at the nape of your neck and your make-up is all dark and shadows apart from the pink lipstick. You match the color to a pair of pink heels, the lone pop of color that you live for at events like this.

“Trying to impress someone?” The voice is casual and familiar.

You glance over your shoulder to find Jungkook leaning against the doorframe, looking immaculate in his black suit and tie. You realize he’s filled in since you first met him, which is hardly a surprise. What is a surprise though is that his slightly shaggy black hair is tinged a deep purple at the ends. It’s the first time you’ve really taken him in since he arrived and you wonder if it’s been that long since you last saw him.

“I should be asking you. New hair?” You watch the cool, casual give way to the soft, almost excited smile, front teeth just a little too big, but in an endearing way.

“Do you like it?” His eyes watch you, silently waiting for a response and you smile. It’s hard not to. Everything about being in his presence is so...easy.

“I do, Jungkookie, it suits you,” you decide and he seems pleased.

“You didn’t answer who you were trying to impress,” Jungkook presses and you just shrug.

“If I’m going to have to get this dressed up, might as well do the damn thing,” you say and he chuckles.

“I’m surprised you asked me to come with you,” Jungkook says, though there is nothing behind the words apart from curiosity.

“Well this is the first one Jimin has planned on his own and Yoongi’ll have his hands full keeping Jimin calm. Or, they’ll be celebrating and I’ll be the third wheel. It helps to have someone I actually like around so I don’t fling myself off the roof,” you say, far too dramatically. You wonder if Jungkook is going to joke again about missing your calling as an actor.

“Please, everyone is going to want to know when your next book releases,” he comments and you sigh.

“Exactly, please save me from that. It goes into editing in a few days, Namjoon would kill me if I jumped off the roof,” you say. You know you should appreciate the attention, but you still haven’t gotten used to all the questions at other events.

“Nah, if you’ve finished the draft, you’d be golden. Writers always make more once they’re gone. Namjoon would only kill you if it wasn’t done,” Jungkook says without missing a beat and you glare at him.

“At least you’re taking this seriously,” you retort but without any real venom.

He closes the space between you and takes your hands in his. Even in heels, you still have to tilt your head up to meet his eyes. You feel some of the tension leave your body, your eyebrows unfurrow slightly, and your shoulders untense. It’s unreasonable to be leaning on Jungkook this way, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He’s always been a great listener.

“If it sucks, then we’ll bail and come back here and have our own party,” Jungkook says, your favorite glint in his eyes.

“What about Jimin?” It is a valid question. He’s been up everyone’s ass about this event for weeks.

“What about him? Once you’ve said hi, and he’s had his chance to say how pretty I am and how hot you look, he’ll be onto other things and he won’t notice if we slip out early,” Jungkook says. “Hell, he’ll probably expect it with us looking the way we do.”

“You’re awful,” you say but can’t stop from grazing your lower lip between your teeth.

“I know,” he says and reaches forward to give you a kiss.

You quickly turn your head and instead, he places a long kiss against your neck. A slight whimper escapes your lips without your permission.

“Had to protect my lipstick,” you say and he raises an eyebrow.

“I know you well enough to know it’s a stain and it isn’t going anywhere,” he says.

“Maybe, but we should be going. I’m sure we’re running late as it is,” you say.

You’ve prearranged a ride because calling a cab or an Uber to show up at a gala like this one just looks tacky. Showing up in a limo is too much on the other end of the spectrum. Well, you haven’t actually decided any of it. Namjoon said his assistant planned it all for you to ensure you both make it to the event on time and make it home safely afterwards. And he needs his rising star to show up in one piece. It’s all so formal and planned and ugh. The only comfort you have in even doing this stupid event is that it will make Jimin happy and that Jungkook agreed to come along. As if sensing your growing anxiety, he reaches out and interlaces his fingers with your own to squeeze your hand.

You arrive at the venue and Jungkook slides out first. He reaches back to help you out of the car. Although Namjoon had not been thrilled Jungkook would be joining you, he is your editor and not some sort of publicist or manager. You reminded him that you were a big girl and if people wanted to gossip, they were going to gossip. You are going to this event for one reason, and one reason only: it’s important to Jimin and both he and Yoongi are important to you. You would have gone even if your publisher hadn’t made a huge donation and purchased several tables. So you’re going to go in a way that makes you comfortable or not at all, his pick.

You sought out the champagne as soon as you and Jungkook passed through the doors. It isn’t your first choice of drink and it isn’t Jungkook’s either, but this is a gala and you are supposed to be fancy. Within fifteen minutes of walking inside, you have already been through three conversations that you are definitely too sober for. Jungkook is the perfect date, though, and easily extracts you from each one with grace.

You cast your eyes around for someone familiar so that you won’t have to use your fake polite voice. Someone who will let you just be yourself without all of the pretense. Jimin flits over, as if out of nowhere, and you sigh in relief at his presence, with Yoongi following closely behind. Jimin’s hair looks like a rainbow and it suits him more than any of the many hair colors you have seen on him. Yoongi looks like he would’ve rather been anywhere else. And he probably would have. Jimin kisses you quickly on the cheek and steps back to survey you with Jungkook half a step behind you.

“And how come I didn’t know you were bringing this delicious piece of arm candy?” Jimin asks and you glance at Yoongi before looking over at Jungkook.

“I told Yoongi,” you say as if it is the simplest thing in the world. And it is.

“Must’ve slipped my mind,” Yoongi says quietly. These types of things aren’t for him either.

“No matter,” Jimin says with a wave of his hand. “If I wasn’t so happy with my grumpy old man, I might ask if you two were looking for a third.”

Without waiting for a response, he’s gone again. Yoongi, looking mortified, quickly follows.

“You know, might be worth a conversation,” you say and Jungkook looks at you with big eyes.

“What?”

“Adding a third person,” you say and Jungkook looks shocked.

“I…what?”

“I’m just kidding, but you should’ve seen your face,” you say.

It’s been at least 2 hours of fake, polite voice and answering the same questions about your upcoming project. You are about over the gala and Jungkook can tell. You have mingled, made your cheeks hurt from smiling so much, eaten dinner, and now you are supposed to be mingling again. Or maybe you’re supposed to be dancing, or drinking, or whatever. You don’t know and you’re approaching being one of those overtired kids at an amusement park. You and Jungkook have quietly been making your way to the door and you’ve already texted the driver that you’re ready to leave. After yet another conversation, the same as numerous before it, your body is tired. Before anyone else can grab you, you turn your back to the room and face Jungkook. He has his hand on the bare skin of the small of your back as you lean into him. He can tell without you saying it that you’re exhausted.

“Can we go now?” There’s almost a whine in your voice.

“You tell me,” Jungkook answers, his thumb lightly tracing patterns on your skin, leaving a hot trail behind. He looks good, like really good, and you want to leave. Thoughts of him being out of the tuxedo are the only thing keeping you sane.

“Heading out without saying hello to an old friend?”

The voice comes from behind you and your whole body goes tense. Jungkook looks down at you, brow furrowing in confusion at the sudden change. You aren’t there anymore. He doesn’t realize that this is the voice of someone who had once been the most important person in your life. Now it seems completely idiotic to have ignored those messages from nearly a week ago. Of course he would find a way to find you. He had known everything there was to know about you once and you suppose that some habits die hard. Besides, you are gaining attention as a writer and information on you is much more readily available for anyone looking now.

You turn slowly around and are thankful that Jungkook keeps his hand on your back. There’s something very comforting and grounding about it, like he’s keeping you from falling apart.

Hoseok.

He’s lost some of the boyishness from the last time you’d seen him, but his smile still dazzles. It’s that same heart shaped smile that could instantly win anyone over. Everything about his face is still familiar. Somewhere along the way, he’s clearly made the change to a blonde undercut and you aren’t sure what to make of that. You have no idea what he has been up to over the past five years. Can he say the same? He is here, after all, and doesn’t seem surprised that you are as well.

“We were never really friends, isn’t that what you said?” Your voice is cool and calm, your features not giving anything away.

“Listen, I…” His face actually looks apologetic.

“It’s late and I’m tired and this isn’t the place to have a serious conversation,” you say and turn away.

“Wait,” Hoseok says and you’re surprised at the pleading note in his voice. It pulls at your heartstrings, a habit left over from when you were friends. There had always been something completely unbearable about seeing him upset. But you’re not friends anymore, a decision that he made on his own, you remind yourself.

Despite the reminder, you keep your face even as you partly turn back to him, eyebrows raised. He seems to wait for you to say something and is disappointed when your lips remain pressed together.

“Did you...change your number?” The question hangs lamely in the air. Is he really here asking if you changed your number or if you just ignored him.

There’s a split moment when you consider not even answering. It’s not like he deserves it. Instead you just shake your head. “I wasn’t the one who changed.”

It isn’t really an answer but there’s a satisfaction in the way his face falls because he knows it’s confirmation. You got his messages and chose not to answer. It’s confirmation that you knew it was him and had nothing to say. He knows better than anyone, or at least he used to, that you never leave messages unread from people you actually want to speak to. The implication is clear.

You did not bother to introduce Jungkook and he did not seem to care. The two of you walk out to the waiting car in silence. It isn’t an uncomfortable silence and you’re trying not to overthink that as well. There has always been something about Jungkook that makes you feel like he understands more about you than you’ve ever said. He never asks questions, never pressures you to talk about things, never expects anything. Which, frankly, is all that you want or need and so you go along with it. Both of you are happy with things like that and there’s no point in ruining a good thing.

“Listen, Jungkook,” you start to say once you are back inside your apartment and he places a finger against your lips.

And you listen. He pushes you back against the counter, his lips crash into yours and suddenly your mind goes blank, like it had nearly every other time you had kissed Jungkook. His lips are soft but firm as they move against your own. When he slides his tongue against yours, you moan slightly because this is exactly what you wanted. This is exactly how you had imagined the night ending.

Jungkook breaks the kiss and spins you around so that you are facing the counter with him pressing against your back. You twist your neck to try and make contact with his lips again, but they are already on your neck, mixing quick nips with hot, open-mouthed kisses as he goes. You arch your back and press your ass harder into him, rolling your hips slightly. You can feel that he wants you and instead he uses his knee to spread your legs apart. With one hand on your hip, he runs his other hand up your thigh where the slit in your dress is. He keeps moving it up your hip and across your tummy as his lips kiss down your neck again.

And isn’t this exactly why you’ve kept Jungkook around this long? Anyone else pressures you with labels or deep conversations. Anyone else would be demanding to know who it was that made you react the way you did at the Gala. Because Jungkook knows, he doesn’t always have a lot to say, but he’s always paying attention to the small cues. He knows that something wasn’t right. Instead, he takes your mind off of it.

Maybe later or in the morning, you just assume Jungkook will stay, you’ll want something a little slower, something that lets you enjoy it. Right now, you just want your mind off of the Gala and consumed by anything else.

It seems to be almost second nature now, Jungkook reading your mind. Which is exactly what he does now. His free hand unhooks the top of your dress, allowing the top of it to fall down to your waist. You don’t want to waste any time either, so you help him by pulling the dress down and stepping out of it, pulling your underwear down in the process.

A smile pushes it’s way into your mind unbidden. That stupid heart-shaped smile from the stupid friend you had in another lifetime. It’s the last thing you want to be thinking about, especially now as you hear Jungkook hastily undressing behind you. It’s like all your old insecurities threaten to consume you. Because, despite how you acted, it was anything but easy to hold it together.

There’s the smallest hint of breath at your neck that pulls you at least partly out of your thoughts. “Don’t get too lost inside that pretty head.”

The words are whispered against your skin like a savior and they leave a heat in their wake that pulls on your senses. It pulls you back to the present, to this moment with Jungkook that you’re sure you want to savor. After the whispered command, he trails his kisses down your neck and onto your back. His hands rest on your hips, but you know he wants to be exploring your body more. He’s waiting for permission, he’s never seen you this distracted before.

You want this, need the distraction of Jungkook inside you, more than you would admit to almost anyone. So you lean back into his touch, sigh when his hands explore more of your body. It’s been months of this now and he doesn’t need words to know that you’re ready for him, that you’re present again.

Jungkook does stay over, without a conversation, because that’s just kind of how the two of you function at this point. You’re so used to having him in your space that it feels a little weird when he doesn’t stay. And, you’ll never say this to Jungkook, but you sleep better with him there, especially when your mind is working overtime. Much like it is tonight.

When this whole thing first started, Jungkook told you that he wasn’t much of a cuddler, usually. Which was fine because you’re not much of one either, usually. It took all of two sleepover nights to prove you both were liars, waking up all tangled up in each other. So, now you don’t even pretend. Jungkook is waiting in bed for you after you brush your teeth, holding the sheets and comforter up for you to slide in and curl up against him. It should all feel too domestic and send you running. Except it doesn’t. You and Jungkook have talked enough about where each of you stands for there to be any confusion. It’s nice, especially when it leaves you free to enjoy this.

It’s also nice because Jungkook sleeping over usually means something else even better than good sleep from cuddling.

Morning sex.

You’re not expecting it, exactly, but you’re also not upset when he slides out of bed to go to the bathroom. You can hear the water running and him brushing his teeth, something he’s not normally in a rush to do unless there’s a chance for morning sex. You slide out of bed and head into the bathroom when he walks out, earning only a raised eyebrow. And it shouldn’t turn you on the way it does. How many times have you done this?

(However many times, it still isn’t enough, you think.)

Even more thankfully, the morning is nothing like the night before. That’s not to say that you don’t like hard and fast fucking. You’re human, so of course you do, it’s just also nice to have a lazy morning and take your time with someone you actually enjoy.

You slide back into the bed and you don’t know why, but you roll away from Jungkook, like you both don’t know exactly what’s about to happen. Jungkook, somehow still full of surprises, seems to just take it in stride. He slides over, fitting himself around your back and pulling you into his chest. With his front pressed tightly against your back, you can’t help yourself and you wiggle your ass against him, satisfied when he groans low. Instead of moving away, he grips your hip to pull you impossibly tighter against him, almost encouraging you.

It’s a dangerous game of wills.

And maybe it’s a game you’re almost hoping that you’ll lose.

Jungkook shows no signs of giving in as his fingers move from your hips and up your side. His fingers ghost across your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake, until they move your hair off your neck. A second later, his lips find your skin, peppering feather light kisses exactly where he knows you like it. You hum out a sigh at the contact and wiggle back further into him.

There’s a slowness to each action, but nothing lazy about it. You’re both moving in too deliberate of a way to call it lazy. It’s intentional. Jungkook slides his hand back down your body and teases at the hem of your shirt for a second before sliding his hand up your stomach. When his finger tips brush over your nipple, you squirm a little more. He knows he’s going to drive you crazy. Yet he still takes his time, gently brushing over your nipple again before rolling the bud between your two fingers.

“For fuck’s sake, Jungkook,” you breathe out, almost ragged.

“Something wrong, angel?”

Fuck, you know exactly the face he’s making without even seeing it. Can hear the smirk as his lips make contact with your neck again. Can feel it in the way his fingers move. You try not to clench your legs tighter together.

He nips at your ear and stills suddenly. “Did you want something?”

“Please,” is the only word out of your mouth before he’s pulling back.

Even though he’s making the first move, you still know that you lost this round. That please was as good as any move that you could’ve made. And then you’re rolling over, wanting to feel his lips on yours. It’s almost maddening, though, how controlled he seems to be. Still, despite your plea, his kisses are slow and drawn out. Not lazy but also not rushing or desperate.

But you need more and you’re long past being embarrassed with this man, so you shift again, straddling his bare chest to be closer. He groans as you bush over his hardening length before settling on top of him. You lean forward to kiss him again, trying to match his slow, languid pace when his finger tips dig into the flesh of your thighs and he repositions you. The moan is entirely involuntary.

There’s a lot to like about Jungkook, especially when he’s like this. Early on, you’d learned that he liked to be the best at anything he did. You can remember joking how that might be an issue. Sex wasn’t some game to hobby to be the best at. All he did was nod, allowing you to think you’d won then..

In reality, he took the time to learn just how to make you feel good and how to get the best reactions out of you. He knows how you like to be touched, where you like to be kissed, how much pressure to apply. And he’s setting the pace on the kisses which would be annoying if it wasn’t exactly what you needed. One of his hands winds up into your hair and pulls just a little. Enough for you to realize he may be under you, but he’s still deciding the pace.

And it’s just kissing, really, with a little skin contact, you shouldn’t be moaning into his mouth over it. Yet you are. You want to whine when he pulls your lips away from his for a second. There’s a glint in his eyes that you know you’ve seen too many times before.

You don’t even have time to protest before he’s flipping you over, muscular arms bracing him as he cages you underneath him. He kisses you again quickly before pulling away and sitting back so that he can pull your shirt up and over your head. You barely have time to miss the contact before his lips on yours again.

Last night was hard and fast, fucking in the kitchen against the counter, just about taking what you needed. This morning was about drawing it out. You had known that even before he started trailing kissing across your jaw and down your neck. He took his time and fuck was he good at it.

Your hands knitted into the sheets when he finally made it closer to your core. Until he kept moving his lips lower, kissing down your leg. You tilted your head up, confusion plain on your face, and then flopped your head back when he only smirked. Neon Jungkook was going to be the death of you. But you knew better than to whine, it’d only make him take longer.

He worked his way back up and hooked his fingers into your underwear, pulling it down and discarding it faster than anything else so far. Good, you thought, maybe he was feeling this just as much as you were.

All other thoughts stopped the second he ran his tongue gently along your opening. The strokes of his tongue were impossibly slow, not nearly giving you enough of a release. He was going to turn you into a whiny, impatient mess. Again. Which was probably exactly what he wanted. Fucker.

Jungkook used two fingers to spread you open and licked into your cunt much more deliberately, pulling a loud moan out of you. And like everything else, Jungkook knows exactly how to turn you into putty with just his tongue on you, Knows he can unravel you in a way nobody else ever really has. He tries not to seem too proud about that (and usually fails). You try not to think too hard about it either.

His finger comes up to rub your clit, making your back arch into his mouth. And fuck you’re not sure how much more of this you can take. Not sure how much longer you can hold out. When his mouth moves to your clit and he presses two fingers inside of you, you know that really might be it for you. He knows it too, if the way his fingers move are any indication. One hand grips hard into your sheets and the other tangles into his hair, urging him on. Not that he needs the encouragement. The string of curses coming from your mouth are enough.

Seconds later and you’re clenching around his fingers, whole body tensing before the release. You come on his face, fingers still moving inside of you to guide you through your orgasm. His mouth is still on you until you pull his head up to yours, needing a break so you’re not overstimulated. You can taste yourself on his lips as he kisses you deeply. He rests his body against yours and the weight is nice, comfortable even. The only thing you can’t stand is that he’s still got shorts on from sleeping.

You want to feel him. You can feel how hard he is against your thigh and you slide your hand down between your bodies to brush over him. He groans again and adjusts, allowing you easing access to palm him through the shorts.

“I think we need to get rid of these,” you say against his lips.

He hums in agreement and rolls over to slide them down. They get discarded along with your own clothes and he’s moving back to the bed. You’re quick to take the tiniest bit of control and settle onto his thighs again. He’s leaning back and watching you like he doesn’t mind. At least for now. You run your thumb over the tip of his cock, appreciating the bit of precum there. His eyes close at the movement, hands slowly running up and down your thighs.

His eyes fly back open when you run your tongue up the underside of his cock and then over the tip. You’ve got your eyes on him, watching the way his own go a shade darker. There’s so much lust in the way he watches your tongue moving up and down, wetting his cock. Your hand follows, slowly sliding up and down.

“You’re teasing me, angel,” he says, low and dangerous, nothing like the wide eyed man you’d first met.

“No worse than you did to me,” you respond sweetly.

There’s an immediate groan as he throws his head back against the pillow. And then his hands are guiding you so that you’re hovering over him, lining you up so that he’s at your entrance. And you could wiggle your way out if you wanted to. But you don’t. So you give in and take his cock in your hand, brush the tip over your folds. He groans again and half-thrusts up into you, earning a gasp in return.

So that’s how you’re playing this. You try to give him a look, but you really aren’t winning this one. And what would be the reward? You want him to fuck you. Without warning, you sink the rest of the way onto him. He gives you a moment to adjust before his hands are on your hips, urging you to move.

You can’t help it, really, you fuck him slow, delighting in the sounds he makes and the way his fingers dig into your skin. It’s too much and not enough at the same time.

It’s almost welcome when he pulls his knees up, planting his feet, and starts fucking up into you much faster. Your hands go to his chest for support and you feel the heat building. There’s no question that Jungkook is the best sex you’ve had. Something you’d blurted out accidentally once and he surprisingly hasn’t given you a hard time about. You know it’s true for him as well.

You move a hand to run your clit, feeling the way his thrusts are getting uneven. He doesn’t have to tell you he’s close and you’ve always appreciated he doesn’t talk too much during sex. You’ve always been on the same page about that.

Another few moments and he’s releasing into you. You keep moving against him and follow just after him. You allow him to ride out the high before collapsing onto his chest, breathing heavily.

There’s a lot of things you’ll need at some point. To clean up, maybe take a shower. Definitely get something to eat. But that can all wait. Neither of you wants to move from your position tangled up together.

And it’s just easy. At least for the moment.

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