#// but yeah! this was fun; good way of putting to words some of my processes ^^ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

undead-supernova · 18 days ago

Text

Prologue - Chapter 1

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

plot: you and Mr. Munson are freshman english teachers at south jefferson high school and it seems that some of the kids think he's a better teacher than you. and, yeah, you're a little bit pissed

wc: 3.9k

no cw for this prologue - (lighthearted enemies to lovers)

a fun 2000s idea i had after watching the tv show English Teacher

title reference: We Are Going To Be Friends by The White Stripes

You were a curious moth to a smoldering flame. If anyone accused you of such a thing, you’d tell them they were crazy. And yet, here you were, staring at a piece of lined paper sticking out of a locker.

It belonged to Dustin Henderson, obvious from the Weird Al sticker stuck next to another of a retro baseball hat that read This is my thinking cap! Yeah, undoubtedly Dustin’s.

You thought about trying to push it back in so he could avoid some stupid bully ripping it. There was no reason for anyone to do that, but Dustin was a freshman and, well, he wasn’t exactly the most popular guy here.

Fuck it, you thought before taking a step forward.

As you touched the worn corner, you spotted your name poking out from the page. Next to it was…Mr. Munson’s?

You couldn’t help yourself from pulling it out just a little further.

I just think Mr. Munson is better

Huh?

You yanked the paper from the slit, fisting it with both hands as you scanned the page. That was undoubtedly his handwriting, haphazardly written like he was always thinking faster than he wrote.

So what the hell was Dustin Henderson doing saying that Mr. Munson was a better teacher than you? Dustin was in your class, not his! How the hell would he know?

A sudden flood of panic washed through you, causing you to throw a glance over to Aisha sitting farther up the hallway, scribbling away at something. She was always here before everyone else, begging you to give her homework early. Most days the answer was no. Most days.

But today, her attention seemed far away.

You looked back down, noticing a bunch of tally marks in pencil and pen. Even one was made with…an Expo marker? What the fuck?

she’s hot though, someone responded under Dustin’s comment, taunting you in red ink.

dude I’m dating Suzie

that doesn’t mean you can’t look

Mr. Munson is super fucking cool

Why did this feel like betrayal? Why was the word gnawing at your gut? Why was it bringing that bagel you’d scarfed down this morning up to the surface?

“Find anything good?”

You startled, instinctively jumping backwards and into the chest of the person behind you. Whirling around, you were face-to-face with Mr. Munson himself.

This was the first time he’d spoken to you. Ever. You’d been here since last spring, subbing for a teacher on maternity leave before she decided to become a stay at home mom. The hiring process was much easier after that. You’d see him at staff meetings and watch him holding the door open for the students after school like he was herding zoo animals off of his arc.

And now here he was, looking way too put together for a Monday morning. He had a crisp white button down with a noticeably ironed black tie and his long hair skillfully tucked into a low bun. His shaggy bangs were freshly trimmed with little tendrils framing his face. You couldn’t help but think he was the only teacher here without dark circles under his eyes.

“I…” you trailed, trying to parse through everything that’s just happened. The tally marks. The comments. The other candidate standing in front of you. The sheer amount of tally marks declaring you inferior to said candidate.

Mr. Munson’s eyes flickered down at the page, eyebrows shooting up. Before you could respond, he plucked it from your fingers. He mouthed the words as he read, scanning intently.

And then he let out a wheeze of laughter.

“Dustin fuc—freaking, excuse me, Henderson. You know, he’s just—” He looked back up at you, grin fading as he noticed your deflated expression. “Woah, hey. Sorry, I didn’t mean to, like, hurt your feelings or whatever.”

“It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine and you hated that it wasn’t fine.

There was an image that flashed briefly before your eyes, of a note stuck to your locker with gum. A love letter from your crush, the one you held to your chest with a death grip as you floated through the cafeteria to his table. The great swell of hope before the roar of laughter that ensued. Before he high-fived his friends and let you down hard.

But this wasn’t your hometown. The walls weren’t flecked in vertical lines of blue and gold. The lights didn’t signal a death sentence.

And standing in front of you was your colleague, stuck with you in this limbo between the past and the present.

“Don’t let it get you down or whatever. They’re just kids.”

You could’ve sworn he saw the swirling fog that lingered in your eyes. Was this him letting you down easy?

Then why does it feel like a jab?

Mr. Munson was acknowledged as the favorite teacher of the freshman class last semester. You’d caught the tail end of this recognition, watching him laugh and roll his eyes as he gave a quick salute and sat back down. Mr. Munson, who already had everything figured out within the first year of teaching here.

You opened your mouth, pathetically suppressing the urge to ask, How did you do it? What am I doing wrong?

But the wave of students coming through brought you back to the current moment, stifling any admittance of weakness.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you said. “Gotta run, bye.”

You turned.

“Isn’t your classroom that way?”

Wincing, you turned back around, watching a smirk fill Mr. Munson’s stupid face. His eyes flickered toward your classroom three doors down from his before back at you.

“Yep, thanks. I know where my classroom is.”

“Yeah, I bet you sure do.”

“Great.”

That was the last time you would ever speak to Edward Munson.

Two weeks after you two found the list, you’d decided to sit in the empty break room for lunch. Every time you went to the cafeteria, you saw Mr. Munson there, laughing with the music and band teacher, Chelsea Jennings.

The numerous times you’d tried sitting even slightly near them, you always heard Mr. Munson talking loudly about his Creative Writing elective. He’d rattle on about the short stories he’d assign them as models with authors even you didn’t know. Names that flew past your head, some even being professors from the local university you hadn’t attended. Professors that he still talked to.

You had taken up the Poetry elective, quickly updating the curriculum to include more female poets and sprinkle in some of the moderns. You’d desperately wanted to talk to someone else about it, but insecurity spread the second you realized all of your poets were well-known. But how could you ignore Emily Dickinson, Annie Finch, Pablo Neruda, and Mary Oliver?

Chelsea wasn’t the only one who talked to him so casually. The other teachers would greet him with such warm demeanours that it made you feel sick. George Bedding, the junior geometry teacher and Mathletes coach, ruffled Mr. Munson’s hair and pretended to punch him before sitting next to him. The fucking P.E. teacher and football coach, Shaun Atkins, even clapped a hand on his shoulder while heading towards the line for pizza day.

The few teachers that had been more than welcoming to you were never around for lunch. Angela Bradbury, one of the senior English teachers, was always helping students or hidden away in her room, nibbling on her Wonder Bread sandwiches while reading the latest romance novel. Sarah Stewart, an art teacher, was your closest ally but spent her lunches working on her own projects.

See? There was no need to be jealous of him. You weren’t stuck on the outs. You fit in just fine.

Or, at least, that’s what you once thought. Now you had no idea how you were being perceived. And if you hadn’t come to the break room today, you would’ve spiraled. Again.

The room was small, coated in depressing beige with flimsy cabinets filled with powdered creamer and Folger’s coffee that expired two months ago. The refrigerator could barely keep anything cold.

So, yeah, no one really came in here.

(The other teachers hid a coffee pot in one of the supply closets with the good creamer in a mini-fridge you’d all chipped in for. Rumor has it that even Principal Scott used it.)

You sat down at the folding table, lower back already aching from the lack of support the metal chair gave you. At least you wouldn’t run into Mr. Munson again.

He’d just laughed while you were in the throes of humiliation. You supposed he didn’t have to think much about it because he was the one who was winning. Even if he was just some guy in his mid-thirties who must’ve taken this job as a last resort.

As if you hadn’t done the same.

But that was irrelevant.

And, yes, you looked at Dustin a bit differently after the incident. Every time he raised his hand, which was a lot, you couldn’t help but see his penciled scrawl.

Mr. Munson is super fucking cool

You wondered dejectedly if they wrote that during your class.

Before you could let out a frustrated groan, you noticed Mr. Munson in the doorway with a metal lunchbox covered in band stickers. He paused, wide eyes locking with yours. You couldn’t help but glare.

Should the opinion of fourteen-year-old boys affect the way you treat another adult? No, probably not.

But you weren’t always known to be a rational person.

It could’ve been minutes. You couldn’t say. The two of you locked in a stare that seemed more like predator and prey than two teachers just trying to make it through another Tuesday. His dumb expression, dark eyes as wide as a deer caught in the fluorescence. You, a mountain lion trying desperately not to devour your sandwich, chips, and Coke in one bite. Including the aluminum can.

What was worse was the longer you stared, the more you noticed how attractive he was. Properly attractive, with lips coated in what seemed to be tinted chapstick. There was no way his lips were that pink, right? And he had to be using some kind of mascara with how dark his eyelashes were. Then there was his hair, seemingly still stuck in the Eighties with the waves. At least he brushed his hair at all, which was more than any of the greasy-haired teenage boys that frequented the halls. Maybe he could be something to aspire to.

Maybe he already was.

Mr. Munson moved silently, only heard as he pulled out the chair across from you, the legs screeching against the dirty linoleum. You surveyed his lunch, an already cooked ramen cup with a Dr. Pepper. He must’ve found a better microwave in Sarah’s closet.

The teachers of South Jefferson High School had a lot of secrets hidden in their closets.

You finally dug into your sandwich, nearly moaning in relief. The school had implemented some new rule that the kids couldn’t bring snacks or they’d be “confiscated.” This rule applied to the teachers as well which was fucking cruel. You’d said your tearful goodbyes to apple slices with caramel and coughing fits between periods because you’d tried to choke down packets of Cheez-Its.

However, you weren’t prepared to watch Mr. Munson heave noodles into his mouth with a plastic fork, slurping and sucking the entire time. You couldn’t help your grimace, desperately trying to hold back the sound of disgust in the back of your throat.

Until he looked up, stray noodles plopping back into the styrofoam.

“Uh, what kind of sandwich is that?”

He only swallowed after he posed his question. Jesus Christ, this was the guy the kids were deeming their favorite? If only they saw him like this.

“Turkey and provolone,” you responded curtly.

He lifted an eyebrow. “Really? ‘Cause I see other stuff on it.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Banana peppers and onion.”

“And lettuce.”

So much for that scared little deer. Now he was some annoying warthog or a fox trying to slither through chicken wire.

“Why are you interested in my sandwich?”

He shrugged, a hint of a smile growing in the corners of his lips. You hated it. “It, uh, looks good.”

“It’s Jersey Mike’s,” you said bluntly.

Mr. Munson only shrugged again. “I only have ramen at my apartment.”

“Right.”

“And that fridge is a piece of shit.”

“True.”

“Woah!” he exclaimed, a huff of laughter leaving his lips. “Did we just agree on something?”

You rolled your eyes, unable to stop the feeling of being a teenage girl again. It figures you’d revert after being in this environment for so long, with the stinging scent of cleaning supplies and hormones spreading like diseases. But nothing prepared you for this to transport you back to a time once easily forgotten.

On instinct, your tongue grazed the front of your teeth, laving over the missing braces that hadn’t been there for nearly twenty years.

“Why do you care?” you snapped.

Something flickered across his eyes, too quick for you to distinguish. “Oh, I see,” he started, pointing his fork at you. It was then you noticed that it was in fact a spork. “You’re still pissed off about the list.”

You feigned a snort, waving him away as you took the final sip of your Coke. “What? No way.”

Another pearl of laughter flew out of him. “Has anyone told you you suck at lying?”

“Has anyone told you you’re annoying?”

As soon as it flew out of your mouth, you realized just how mean it sounded. You winced.

Mr. Munson let out another laugh but this one didn’t sound the same as the last. “If I had a penny for how many times I’ve been called annoying, I think I’d be, like, the wealthiest guy alive.”

“You’d surpass Bill Gates?” you asked, trying to lighten the mood.

He pretended to think about it before nodding. “Oh, yeah.”

“Wow.”

You couldn’t help the ease you felt when he played along. But the irritation started right back up as he reopened his mouth.

“I know you’re impressed,” he teased. “It’s okay. Go ahead and gawk.”

“Yeah, I’m absolutely starstruck.”

“Don’t worry about the list.” When you rolled your eyes again, he added, “Seriously! Those guys are just bored. I bet you’re a great teacher.”

“Thanks.” You didn’t even pretend to mean it.

After another shovel of noodles, he said, “But, just between us, I am kinda the best English teacher here.”

You couldn’t help a third eye roll. “I sincerely doubt it.”

A smug grin filled his face. “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be sponsoring the new book club next semester.”

A flare of anger flooded your veins.

“What?”

“Don’t get too jealous there,” he teased.

You shook your head. “No, I’m sponsoring the book club.”

He let out a hum and tilted his head. “You sure? ‘Cause I didn’t see your name on there.”

You scoffed. “I didn’t see Edward Munson on that list.” You said his name with a certain amount of venom that you knew wasn’t lost on him. His resulting scowl said it all.

He stood up, smoothing out his shirt and fiddling with his tie. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to deal with us being partners then.”

You were at a loss for words, unable to do anything but watch him move towards the door. “Been great talkin’ to you,” he said. He threw his napkin in the trash can before glancing at you over his shoulder. “I’m Edd-ie, by the way. Don’t wear it out.”

He walked away but you couldn’t help but throw a napkin at his fading figure. It made it as far as the end of the table.

That was the first moment you wondered why he’d decided to eat here in the first place.

“There must be some kind of mistake!” you exclaimed.

Principal Scott shook her head for probably the fourth time in two minutes. “I don’t see why you can’t work with Mr. Munson on this. If anything, that makes the club stronger.”

“It’s my chance to try and connect with these kids,” you explained, desperation leaking through your professional demeanor. “Ed—Mr. Munson has been here way longer than I have—”

“Only by a year,” she corrected, but you were far from over.

“ —and he has a leg up on me with them! I want to start making an impact! Kids these days are less interested in reading than ever before. It stopped being cool. What if I could inspire them to care? What if I could get them to read things that change their point of view on the world, to inspire them to think further outside of the little box their environment puts them in?”

Eddie was impressed by your speech, even if he wasn’t supposed to witness it. He’d actually been on the way here to talk to Principal Scott himself to try and keep his spot as the club’s head sponsor. Maybe keep you there but reduce your authority.

But then. Well. He heard you talk like this.

“And that’s great,” Principal Scott continued. “I just don’t see why you and Mr. Munson can’t do that together.”

“The kids like him,” you said before coughing. “At least, that’s how it seems.” Eddie rolled his eyes. “How am I supposed to do this work if he’s taking the spotlight? I’m just supposed to stay sidelined?”

He thought about the first time he saw you, at that first staff meeting you’d attended. You fidgeted a lot, all flustered and nervous like all new teachers were. Even in your fear, he thought you were pretty. Standing there, shifting from one heel to the other like you’d rather go barefoot than stand in the opposite corner.

You’d looked over at him at the same time, caught up in an awkward staring contest where both contestants refused to stop blinking and had no idea when to call it quits. It didn’t help that you seemingly relaxed at the connection. It was kind of adorable.

When he saw you in the halls after that, he found himself pausing to observe you. You were always there to wish the kids a good morning and a good rest of their day with a certain amount of sincerity that he could never muster. If there was a hyperventilating kid in the hallway, you were the first one to huddle them into your room to help them down from whatever ledge their raging hormones put them on that day.

Once, he’d walked past your room to see you opening a drawer while saying, “Don’t tell anyone about my secret stash, okay?” You pulled out a bowl of candy that even had his mouth watering. The student nodded her head, puffy-eyed but already reaching in. “If you promise to keep it a secret, you can come get candy whenever you want. How does that sound?”

If you were outside directing carpool, the worst of all the roulette wheel of responsibilities South Jefferson had to offer, you always seemed energized. Like it wasn’t a chore whatsoever.

He knew you cared about these kids. He did.

But you seemed to have absolutely lost it at the mere implication that you weren’t already everyone’s favorite English teacher. You’d developed some personal vendetta against him as if it was his fault that fourteen-year-olds with greasy hair, braces, and cruel acne flares thought better of him. Especially Dustin Henderson and his group of nerds. He meant that with all the love in the world, of course.

The way you spoke to him was more intriguing than infuriating. Amusing, even. But then you said his name with such disdain, such vitriol. It prodded at something deep inside him, a well of nearly forgotten memories that seemed to overflow the second you said his name like that.

So, yeah, maybe he was starting to develop a bit of a vendetta against you.

Eddie had to shift his plans. Clearly you weren’t going to give up easily. Maybe he’d annoy you to the brink of insanity and get you to drop your sponsorship. He’d always had proficiency in that skill. Besides, it wasn’t too mean. What was another push?

“Don’t you think you’ll get better turnout rates if he’s there?” Principal Scott reasoned. “If the kids like him so much, you can use that to your advantage—and his. I know Mr. Munson is a dedicated teacher. He’s given your speech to me dozens of times about things that quite frankly matter less. He’s passionate. Just try to work together. It doesn’t have to be that complicated.”

“Fine,” you conceded. “Fine. I can do that. Thank you for your time, Principal Scott.”

“Call me Carrie.”

“Yes, thank you, Carrie. I’ll see what I can do.”

Eddie thought about walking away. Really, he did.

But there was a part of him that really wanted to see you. Your figure had been obscured by the doorframe and, sure, he’d gotten enough from your words alone.

Nothing prepared him for the sight before him. You were utterly defeated, scratching at your neck as you hunched forward. The cross-strap bag you always carried was slipping off of your shoulder, causing you to groan as you fixed it.

As your eyes flickered up, he watched the scowl that seemed reserved for him deepen.

“What?” you challenged. “You wanna gloat?”

It was then Eddie realized he’d been grinning. He gestured to his face. “Was I not already gloating?”

“I can’t believe this,” you grumbled, quickly strolling past him.

But Eddie had a hard time knowing when to stop. And maybe, just maybe, he was solidifying his new plan. It couldn’t be that difficult, could it?

“You could take a picture, you know,” he continued. “just so you can keep up with every face I have when I win.”

“Shut up.”

Oh, he could get this done before Christmas break was over. If he challenged himself enough, maybe by the end of next week.

“I can lend you a camera if you’d like.”

You halted with a huff. “I’m trying to get things done for these kids. I’m trying to help them. Do you not get that? Or is this just a mask you wear to make people like you?”

Eddie tried to disguise the quirk of his eyebrow as he considered your words. But judging by the upwards flick of your eyes, he knew he’d been caught.

What was it that you saw in him that hadn’t been uncovered since his youth?

“You think so low of me.”

“I haven’t been given a reason to indicate any other kind of reaction to you and your incessant need to be a pest at any given time of the day.”

Eddie resisted the urge to give you a slow clap. Instead, he settled on “You done?”

You took a deep breath before nodding. “Yes.” Something seemed to shift as you took another deep breath and straightened your posture. “Winter break is coming up next week. We should try to figure out how to make this work. Why don’t we go get coffee or something and hammer out the kinks.”

“I think that is a great idea,” he replied, his tone more mocking than anything. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You opened your mouth, seemingly to say one thing before hesitating and starting over. “Meet me next Tuesday at Java Bean at one p-m.”

Eddie grinned, smugly wondering what your reaction would be when he said his next words. Professionalism be damned.

“It’s a date.”

Your eyes widened, amusing Eddie to no end. Oh, yeah. That hit something.

“Do you hear yourself?” you asked, nearly scoffing at him.

There were those eyes of yours, searching for something in his. As if you were both trying to find the truth behind your cement walls of defense. But you gave up first, spinning around and trudging down the hallway.

“See you Tuesday!” he called after you, smiling triumphantly when your shoulders locked up.

Oh, yeah. This would be a cake walk.

thank you to @jo-harrington for all the time she took helping me with the writing process and @littlexdeaths for always making the best dividers. i love you both so much it's hard to articulate.

#we are going to be friends series #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson/you #Eddie munson/reader #eddie munson fanfiction #y2k!Eddie #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female reader #Eddie munson x fem!reader

295 notes · View notes

lalunanymph · 1 year ago

Text

𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃 — g. satoru

one drunken night changes everything between you and satoru

cw. alcohol, virginity loss, reverse corruption, switch!gojo, modern au, unprotected sex, gojo is inexperienced, mild slut shaming but satoru gets his payback, gojo does not believe in toxic masculinity amen

Getting Gojo drunk is never a good idea.

You, for one, as his friend should know.

Satoru’s ruddy cheeks, boisterous laughter and slurring words gave away his intoxication, and Geto was about to call a taxi for him when he stopped the outside party with a reveal no one had anticipated.

“Why’re you ruining my fun—hic—Suguru… I wanted to lose my virginity t'night.”

Record screech. Ieiri glanced up from the cig she was smoking, and the whites of your wide eyes reflected the neon club sign.

“Satoru,” Geto gasped, his phone left open on the Uber screen, mouth agape. “What did you say?”

In answer to this sudden truth bomb, the white-haired man shrugged, kicking his feet up a curb and leaning back against the cool marble. The bench he was sprawled on was way too small to accommodate his 6’3 frame, and his legs, each about almost a mile long, were perched on either side of the seat.

“I said what I said. Why—find it hard to believe, Sugu?”

He looked good for someone already in an alarming state of intoxication, and you didn’t miss how Ieiri smirked at your flushing cheeks. Shooting her a glare, you quickly glanced at Suguru, relieved to find him still processing what Satoru said.

“I thought… What about that girl back in third year?”

Satoru waved off his question with a prissy flap of his hand. “Eh, that was old news. We never did anything vile.”

“Imagine that,” Shoko snickered, stubbing out her cigarette with the tip of her boot. “The great Gojo Satoru—bitchless.”

Geto couldn’t help the guffaw that burst from his chest, and you had to turn your face to the side to hide the hysterical giggles waiting to destroy your pouting friend’s ego.

“Ieiri,” you chastised her, struggling to hold back your laughter, though with your lips twitching, it wasn’t hard to deduce that you were trying not to lose it. “Don’t make fun of him like that. Satoru’s just a late bloomer.”

“Yeah!” Gojo chimed in, shooting you a lopsided grin. “It’s not my fault girls only want me for my money.”

You winced and Suguru rolled his eyes.

“If I recall, some of them did find you attractive, but you have ridiculous standards, Satoru.”

The white-haired fiend turned to you with a cheeky grin. “I do. That’s why Y/N-chan should take a leaf out of my book.”

“Oi—!”

“The car is on the way,” Suguru chimed in, hastily coming in between you and Satoru to interrupt before things got out of hand.

Your indignation was amusing to Gojo who chuckled heartily. “Ah, come on, Y/N. You’ve made some ridiculous choices in the past, but we still love you. I’m only just teasing.”

Before you could open your mouth to speak, the Uber pulled up, and with it, Satoru’s escape. “Oops. I gotta go, guys—”

“I’ll follow you.” Your sudden offer for help rubbed Gojo the wrong way, and he made a face, ego bruised with your assumption that he was too drunk to get himself safely back.

“I can go home without your help. I’m fin—” He stood up… and almost fell onto his face.

Geto was quick to catch him, and your yell of surprise induced Ieiri to lurch forward with her own arms outstretched in case both of you lost your grip on the taller man.

It took three people to bundle Satoru in the backseat, and you shook off Geto’s worrying chimes when he asked if you needed his help.

“He’ll sober up before we reach the penthouse. Don’t worry.”

You slammed the car door closed on Geto and Shoko, both of them standing with shifting eyes and uncertainty in their hesitant gaits.

“Could you please put the AC higher?”

The cab driver nodded, and you sat Gojo closer to the middle, where he was getting a nice faceful of cold air.

Thankfully, he didn’t grumble much on the way home, but the white-haired menace did threaten, once or twice, to puke in the car. The driver couldn’t have driven fast enough, and he even refused Gojo’s 5-star rating, a sign of his mild annoyance.

Next, you had to haul a 6’3 baby into the elevator of his own penthouse. Satoru wasn’t an easy drunk—he whined, pouted and moaned about the lights being too bright or the room spinning or his feet aching. Honestly, you were glad to get him through the front door without anyone committing homicide.

He was sobering up on the couch when you approached him with some hot tea, his misery drawn out and getting on your nerves when he nodded pitifully, taking the piping mug from you.

Gojo’s penthouse suite was as much his as your home. Every weekend, you and Shoko would haunt either Satoru or Suguru’s homes, and you knew where every mug belonged and how he liked his plates to be arranged.

Sitting down next to him, it was almost peaceful and quiet. Satoru had a certain assurance about him which put anyone at ease, and you were not exempted.

You liked his strong and reliable presence. Sure, he was an overgrown toddler in a young man’s body, but when push came to shove, Gojo would always show up for the people he loves.

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier.”

You blinked, turning to find a pair of sincere azure eyes boring into yours.

“What?”

“About your mistakes. I know it was a dark time for you after your breakup with Sukuna. I didn’t mean to come off as ignorant and cruel.”

Your lips twitched at the sound of your ex-boyfriend’s name. “It’s fine. You’re a pretty shitty person when you’re drunk anyway.”

Gojo scoffed and set his mug down on the expensive marble coffee table.

“Excuse me? I’m trying to be nice here.”

“Hmm.” You tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “Did you mean what you said—that you’re actually a virgin?”

Curiosity got the best of you, and it didn’t help that three of Gojo’s buttons were loosened, exposing a pale strip of his neck to your wandering eyes.

“Yeah.” He said it with such nonchalance and straightforwardness, you thought he was pulling your leg again.

“Please,” you forced a scoff, trying hard to ignore your heartbeat in between your legs. “Like anyone would believe that.”

“I’m serious,” he cried out, and to prove how genuine he was, Gojo siddled closer to you. “Cross my heart and I swear on my grandma’s dead body. I’ve never touched a girl before.”

Well, Satoru did love his grandmother. You pouted, and before you could stop yourself, your primal, tipsy thoughts spilled out without any hesitation.

“I could show you.”

The silence after your question felt like an empty stretch of Tundra sea.

Your stomach turned and you slapped a hand to your mouth.

“Shit, Satoru, I’m sor—”

“I think I would like that.”

Gojo’s eyes were fixated on you in the half-light. The air suddenly became too thick, and you couldn’t breathe without inhaling the minty freshness of his breath. He was sitting too close to you. It was all too much, like a timebomb was about to go off at any moment.

Before you could change your mind and leave him alone to his raging thoughts, Gojo caught you by the waist, tugging you onto his lap.

Am I dreaming?

You had envisioned kissing Gojo Satoru many, many times, but the reality was far sweeter.

His lips were plush and soft, tasting of the liquor he drank earlier and something impossibly sweet.

“A-are you wearing lip balm?” your stuttered question made him pause. He laughed, a full bodied chuckle that shook his great shoulders.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise.” You mumbled, and in the closing darkness, your lips brushed on his with no caution. Satoru removed the space between you and him, closing on your mouth with another searing kiss that left you lightheaded and shaking.

The world went flat for a split second, and you opened your eyes to find him hovering over you.

He picked your hand from your side, and pushed it towards the juncture of your thighs, where your core ached pathetically for him.

“Show me,” his husky murmur sent a dark thrill straight to your clenching belly. “Show me how you touch yourself.”

Gojo’s touch on your wrist was light, reminding you he was here and ready. Waiting for you to make the first move.

“Huh?” your confusion was palpable, like the sheen of sweat beading on your brow. “H-hey—aren’t you supposed to be the virgin here?”

His smile was part sardonic, part angelic. “Sweetheart, that’s why I’m asking you to show me. I promise I’ll impress you if you do.”

You flashed him a look of annoyance, but ultimately, you lost to his charms. Satoru always had a way to soften you up and make you susceptible to his every whim. Licking your lips, you slowly pushed the hem of your skirt to the side, exposing the lacy black thong you wore for tonight.

Those ocean deep blue eyes were enraptured on your two fingers pushing aside your thong, and swiping them through your glossy seam.

“You’re so wet,” he murmured, getting comfortable and resting his head on the plush sofa cushion to watch you touch yourself. “Keep going. Don’t stop until I tell you, too.”

You were going to murder him for speaking to you like this—as if you were an errant pet waiting on his reprimand.

“Satoru—”

“Oh, hush,” he whispered with a pale, long finger pressed to your lips. “I’m enjoying the show. Stop ruining my first time, Y/N.”

Your chagrined glare was replaced by a look of hesitation when Satoru used his large palm to cup your left breast.

“I’ll just pull and twist it?” he asked, referring to your nipple hardening under his touch.

“Y-yeah,” you swallowed hard. “Give it a little tug and roll it around your fingers.”

For the first time since you met him, Satoru actually listened to you. He obediently twisted your turgid bud through the slinky fabric of your party top, watching intently as your body reacted under his touch.

Since he was being good, you decided to treat him.

Angling your hips closer to him, you rubbed shaky circles onto your clit in tandem with his slow tugs and pinches to your sensitive nipple. Gojo moved onto the other neglected one, repeating his motions until your hips were twitching from every deliberate roll.

“You’re really sensitive, huh?”

His whisper ignited the fire in your loins, and not even your touches could put it out.

“Satoru, I think you can undress me.”

Your command was met with barely any resistance when he nodded, pushing the straps of your top down to expose your naked breasts to his wandering eyes.

“Fuck.”

His reflexive groan caught you off guard. It had been awhile since any man was enthralled by the sight of your bare body.

Most of those assholes couldn’t wait to jump to the main event without prepping you first. Their selfish insistence made you weary of who you let into your bed.

But, Satoru was the exception.

His gentleness when he cupped your breasts, and the reverence you felt on your skin when he peppered kisses on your collarbone and shoulders was a far cry from those bums who only wanted to get their dicks wet.

A part of you was duly impressed by Satoru’s consideration—you never expected someone like Gojo to have it in him.

Proving he worth once more, he planted open-mouth kisses down your neck, right to the swell of your heaving breasts.

The sensation of his warm mouth wrapping around your nipples caused shivers to run down right into your very core. Satoru was worshipping the soft skin of your cleavage and sensitive buds like they were an altar he had to cleanse with every broad stroke of his tongue.

Your mind spun in dizzying circles, the ones you drew on your clit growing more erratic by the second.

“Fuck,” you spat out, and couldn’t stop your hand from shooting out to sink in his soft, silvery white hair. “Satoru—”

“Stop.”

His silky command pierced through the thick fog of your mind, catching you off guard.

“Huh?” He wrenched your hand away from the apex of your thighs, much to your chagrin. “What the fuck—”

His cheeky grin dominated your blurry vision, and you swore smoke was pouring out of your ears.

“I was about to cum, asshole!”

“I know,” he sang. “But, you can’t cum just yet! You have to do it around my cock.”

You swore, if you weren’t so turned on, you might’ve murdered Gojo. As it was, the idea of feeling him stretch your pussy out was far too enticing, and you were forced to swallow down your pride to admit your needs.

“Are you gonna do it?” you hissed, feeling your cheeks heating up. “Or, are you going to make me wait?”

This time, Gojo did not tease you. Judging from the bulge in the front of his jeans, his patience was wearing thin, too.

Satoru tugged his cashmere crew neck off, and his Corduroy pants went next. If you weren’t so intoxicated with lust, you would’ve snickered at his outfit choice.

However, there were no thoughts in your head beyond the anticipation of feeling Satoru’s cock slowly easing into you. The vivid yearning was driving you quietly insane, and your hips bucked upwards with such visceral desperation when he got in between your thighs that you were sure he was going to make fun of your neediness.

He didn’t.

Satoru’s glassy eyes and his parted mouth filled you with the understanding of his own inner turmoil—the shakiness of his exhale and his next question revealing his hesitation.

“W-what do I do now?”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“How do I fuck you right?”

For all his bravado and pomp, Satoru was a nervous wreck on top. Your eyes softened, and you urged him up, turning the tides on him and settling him onto his back.

Those wide, baby blue eyes never peeled off your figure, drinking in the sight of you removing your top and skirt completely with unabashed yearning. His cheeks were turning the prettiest shade of pink, the heat from them emanating down his pale chest like a slowly creeping infection he couldn’t exactly hide.

Satoru swallowed hard again when you were left in nothing but your lacy thong. Moonlight speckled over the enticing curves of your bare body. He memorised every dip in the terrain of your silhouette until he was positive he could trace it onto a blank piece of paper based on memory alone.

Your palms were folded onto his chest, using him as leverage when you slowly rolled your thong off your shapely thighs.

He was glued onto the sight of your honeyed folds, trying hard not to drool when a little bit of your juices dribbled onto his thigh.

The wide sofa was enough to accommodate both your bodies, and you held onto the velvet arm with one hand, the other reaching to circle his stiff cock. Gojo groaned, lustfully and without shame when you started to stroke him.

Sure, he had used his own hand and sometimes a sock to get himself off, but nothing could compare to the sensation of a pretty thing who knew what she was doing.

You glanced at him through half-mast eyes, the sinful sight sending a bolt of lightning right down his spine. Satoru’s tongue tied of its own accord when you let go of his length, though what you did next made every thought he had fly out the window of his whited out mind.

He watched, hungry and blown away, when you sank your hips down on his length, taking him with a small gasp and your head thrown back.

You felt the burn in your thighs when you set a pace that had the huge couch rocking. Satoru clasped his hands onto your hips, an involuntary low moan leaving his swollen, peachy lips. You were a vision above him—hair falling in your face, and lower lip caught between your teeth. There was a look in your eyes that he was starting to know all too well, like you wanted to devour him piece by piece till only a shred of his sanity remained.

The sight of him bucking his hips to rut up into you was burned into your retinas.

Satoru was a heavenly visual below you. His white hair was in a disarray, those beautiful blue eyes drowsy with lust. His mouth was parted in an ‘O’, the apples of his cheeks dusted with pink.

“‘Toru,” you whispered. “C-can feel you so deep.”

Those salacious words and your sweet nickname broke something in Gojo.

One second you were sensually undulating your hips above him, and the next, you were on your hands and knees, stretched to your full capacity around his throbbing cock.

“So beautiful.”

Before he could give you a moment to steel yourself, Satoru had set a brutal pace that had you biting down on a cushion to muffle your scream.

Holy shit. He’s good.

Your slurry mind could barely keep up with this new development. The lanky, annoying man you had called your friend for years was fucking up into you like he was about to break you back.

The fact that your breathing was growing heavier and you could barely see through your blurry vision kept you locked in a cycle of perpetual surprise and intense pleasure. Satoru was rocking your entire world like he was meant to ruin it, and you were the helpless victim to his infuriating expertise.

Everything Satoru did, he did to excel. And fucking you was no exception.

He swivelled his hips, smacked your ass, and bent over to leave wet open mouthed kisses on your shoulders and the back of your neck. He tugged and twisted your nipples, played with your clit till you choked back on a scream. Satoru did it over and over again until you couldn’t hold back the ball of tension from exploding.

It rained over you with the effects of a full disaster, shattering your entire world when you finally came for Gojo Satoru.

His palm was firmly slapped onto your mouth to quieten your sniffles and whines. Gojo let you pulse around his cock pathetically, before his grating chuckle bulldozed past your foggy mind.

“That’s one. I haven’t come yet.”

He flipped you onto your back, perching one thigh on the back of the sofa so he could lean forward and have full access to your flushed pussy.

Satoru then spent a full fifteen minutes eating you out; sucking on your clit, fucking your quivering hole with his tongue, and running the flat of that infuriating pink muscle back and forth from back to hole until your toes curled in his periphery.

“Ngh—ah! ‘Toru!”

Clutching his hair in your death grip, Satoru gave you full permission to ride his face with the patience of a saint.

But, even saints were humans and they could be tainted with darker, baser thoughts.

Satoru would never call himself a good man, not when he had you bent against the sofa arm as he languidly fucked you. You hated to admit how much he knew your body—better than you gave him credit for—when he played with your clit again, determined to bring you to your third ruin.

Your hips were beginning to stutter, and your sweet pussy was clenching down on him like a loving embrace. Satoru buried his face into your hair, expelling a guttural groan.

“Fuck, angel. So good. So good, sweetheart.”

The endearment in his voice and those terms poised you right at the edge, and you were so close to throwing yourself over with barely a beat of hesitation.

“Say it,” Gojo grunted, voice thick and deep with arousal. “Tell the world who’s fucking you so good.”

If someone had told you a year ago that you would be creaming around Gojo’s cock for the third time in a night, you would’ve told them to shove it and to stop feeding your delusions.

But, this was happening—Gojo was really using you like a fleshlight he was fond of. When he leaned forward to press a kiss to your cheek, you couldn’t help the gritted sniffle that slipped past your clenched teeth.

“You,” your broken admission put a smile of satisfaction on his face.

The inexperienced has now become the master.

“Yeah? Doesn’t sound convincing, sweetheart.”

His lips on the shell of your ear and puffs of hot breath hitting that sensitive strip of skin was enough to make you clench down on him.

“Satoru…”

“Yeah, that’s my name, baby. Now, shout it for everyone to hear.”

“Satoru,” you were sobbing now, full bodied shakes which echoed the pleasure tearing your world apart. “Satoru!”

“Louder, baby.”

Stars exploded behind your scrunched lids when he gripped your throat, using it to pull you back towards his chest, cock digging deeper into your soft insides to expose your secrets for the world to see.

“Satoru! Oh, god—Satoru! Satoru! Sa—”

You choked off when the world suddenly went white.

As if a bomb had detonated, your insides shook, the world going still for a single second. Lights, sounds, smell and touch were suspended in motion, like you were looking at a scene from outside your body.

Then, the movie resumed, fast forwarding and slamming into you with the force of a singular, staggering punch.

Everything was too bright, too loud, and your heartbeat was erratically going off in your chest, the blood singing in your ears.

Satoru caught you as you slumped into his arms, and he used what little remained of his self-control to fuck up into you, hard enough for his balls to tighten and his own inner world to shatter into fragments.

His teeth sank into your shoulder, the bite of pain enough to draw out your bittersweet climax.

“Satoru!”

The tension was too much, and it hurt to even cum. Your core was cramping up, and your pussy was throbbing like it was about to fall off.

But, you didn’t care. All you wanted was Satoru and his entirety.

You would always allow him to destroy your world without a second thought; knowing he was going to stay behind to fix the pieces.

Gojo did not disappoint you when he held you close to his chest, the last spurt of warmth dripping onto your bare thighs.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

You both sank into the plush surface, stained with sweat, cum and disbelief.

Neither of you could break the silence, and you were reluctant to be the first. If you did, there was no telling if Satoru would up and leave.

Eventually, he made the first move.

Gojo nuzzled your hair, exhaling what sounded like a gust of relief.

“Well, that sure exceeded my expectations.”

The angst of what you both had done aside, Satoru and you were still good friends and you couldn’t throw a friendship away because he had rocked your entire world.

In fact, you wondered if he would be interested in taking it up a notch.

You weren’t above admitting that Satoru was the best fuck of your life and a part of you would do anything to make sure he would be your last.

“Satoru—”

“We’ll talk about everything tomorrow,” he promised, pressing a reassuring kiss to your jaw. “You’ve drained my balls and emotions for one night, baby. Go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

You nodded, believing him without a shade of doubt.

Satoru would give it his word of honour like how did when he said he would impress you.

Closing your eyes, you drifted off to sleep, but not before you felt the ghost of his laugh stir the loose strands of hair around your neck.

"Not bad, Gojo," he muttered under his breath, quietly commending himself with a self-assured grin, seemingly unaware that you could hear him. "Not bad at all."

a/n: he's so stinky i would ride him till he passes out just to get him to shut up.

©️ all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own.

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #jjk satoru #gojou satoru x you #gojou satoru x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #jjk smut #🦢 writes

1K notes · View notes

03jyh23 · 4 months ago

Text

🔞⌇ateez reaction to walking on you sexy dancing

!minors do not interact!

trigger warnings: highly suggestive, sexual themes, the word ''daddy'' used when singing along to a song, jealousy, lap dance, implied masturbation, lingerie

— hi there! it's my first time posting reactions! i always wanted to try and decided to finally go for it! let me know if you like this type of post from me? can't believe i am exposing the songs im shaking my ass to like this lol but enjoy! (yeah, i was totally cleaning to all of them today and my mind couldn't help but... daydream)

love, monika ♡

⌞hongjoong⌝ get busy by sean paul

You were cleaning up for a longer while, meticulously tidying each corner and surface of your home. Your phone was connected to Hongjoong’s expensive, high-quality music set, filling the room with crystal-clear sound. Cleaning wasn’t your favorite thing to do, but since Hongjoong was busy in the studio working on his latest project, it was better to tackle the chores during his absence than when he was at home and potentially in the way. You prefer to be alone when cleaning, with nobody to disturb you or interrupt your rhythm. The solitude allowed you to focus entirely on the task, making it somewhat more bearable. Your cleaning playlist was set on shuffle to keep you motivated throughout the extended cleaning session. You were wiping off the table when Get Busy by Sean Paul started playing, and you knew damn well the next thing you were going to do was shake your ass to one of the best songs ever recorded, at least in your opinion. The infectious beat and energetic rhythm were too irresistible to ignore. You could feel the music pulsing through your veins, compelling you to drop the cloth and start moving to the rhythm. You were swaying your hips left and right, your hands clapping to the rhythm. The music seemed to take control of your body, your movements becoming more fluid and enthusiastic with every beat. Lost in the music, you didn't notice the entrance door quietly opening. You put your hands into your hair, untangling them from the bun and shaking your head in the matching rhythm to your hips. You finally dropped in a swift motion to the floor, doing the sexiest drop you could, your hands between your legs and then up on your knees when you were back standing in a swift motion. You were attempting to twerk, and oh lord, you couldn't do that even if your life depended on it, but you were enjoying yourself so much you didn't even care about looking funny. You closed your eyes, letting the rhythm move you. Hongjoong stood there, leaning against the wall with a smirk on his face, watching your dance performance. He had finished his work earlier than expected and decided to surprise you, but it seemed you were the one providing the surprise. He couldn't help but chuckle softly, finding your carefree dancing endearing. You once again dropped to the floor, your hands moving up your chest and to your neck as you followed the rhythm. The song's final notes reverberated through the room, leaving you feeling exhilarated and out of breath. As the music faded, you took a moment to catch your breath, when you finally noticed your boyfriend looking at you. Oh.

Your eyes widened in surprise, heat rushing to your cheeks as you realized Hongjoong had been watching you the entire time. "How long have you been standing there?" you asked, trying to sound casual but failing to hide your embarrassment.

He pushed himself off the wall and walked towards you with a grin, "Long enough to decide that the next thing I’m gonna produce will be a dancehall song."

You laughed nervously, still trying to process the fact that Hongjoong had been watching you. "I didn't know you were back," you said, attempting to divert the attention from your dance performance.

He chuckled, "I finished early and thought I'd surprise you, but clearly, you were having your own little party here."

Blushing, you replied, "Well, cleaning is more fun with some good music."

Hongjoong nodded in agreement, "I can't argue with that. But next time, maybe save some of those moves for me?" He winked playfully, making you laugh.

"Maybe I will," you teased back, feeling more at ease now that the initial embarrassment was fading.

He walked over to you and pulled you by your hip into a kiss, deepening it with a passion that made your heart flutter. When he pulled back, his eyes were filled with warmth and affection. "Mind dancing for me again?" he suggested, taking your hand.

You smiled, feeling a rush of excitement. "Only if you join me," you replied, squeezing his hand gently.

Hongjoong laughed, "Deal. But don't blame me if I steal the spotlight." With a playful grin, he led you back to the center of the room, ready to dance together.

⌞seonghwa⌝ super bass by nicki minaj

Seonghwa was busy with his newest Lego set, and you left him be, knowing well he needed his time alone to relax doing his hobby. You watched him for a moment, admiring the way his fingers deftly assembled each piece with precision and care. The concentration on his face was evident, and it made you smile to see him so immersed in something he loved. To avoid disturbing him, you went to your shared bedroom, closed the door behind you, and decided to put on some music. You connected your phone to the speakers, and scrolled through your favorite playlists, looking for something that matched your mood. You chose a female top tracks playlist you often play in the car when driving with Seonghwa. Out of boredom, you decided it was high time to fold your clean laundry and put it back on the shelves and racks. The pile of freshly washed clothes had been sitting in the basket for a few days now, and you figured it was the perfect opportunity to finally tackle the task. As you sorted through the clothes, separating them into different categories, Super Bass started to play, and you smiled hearing the familiar beats. The rhythm of the song lifted your spirits, and you found yourself swaying to the music as you folded. It made the chore feel less like a task and more like a dance. You couldn't help yourself but rap to the song, putting on a small performance. You twirled around, pretending the laundry basket was an audience, and let the music take over. Each note you sang seemed to make the task more enjoyable, and you found yourself getting lost in the melody.

Your favorite part, the bridge, came closer, and you could feel the excitement building inside you. In one swift motion, you grabbed the chair and positioned it in the middle of the room. With a burst of energy, you put one of your legs on it, striking a dramatic pose. You sang at the top of your lungs, completely forgetting about not disturbing your dear boyfriend, "See, I need you in my life for me to stay." You closed your eyes and moved your body sensually to the beat, letting the rhythm take control. Each sway of your hips and roll of your shoulders felt instinctive, the music guiding your movements ''Don't you hear that heartbeat comin' your way?'' you sing, your voice blending seamlessly with Nicki's. You sat down on a chair, swaying your hips to the rhythm, feeling every beat pulse through your body. The music filled the room, creating an atmosphere of sultry energy and anticipation. As you continued to sing and move, you noticed Seonghwa entering the room, his eyes widening slightly as he took in the sight before him. You couldn't help but smile, your hips moving with even more confidence and allure. Seonghwa's presence only added to the excitement, and you felt a rush of adrenaline knowing he was watching you.

"Like what you see?" you asked playfully.

Seonghwa's lips curled into a smirk, and he leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. "I always do," he replied, his voice tinged with amusement and admiration. His eyes sparkled with affection as he watched you, clearly enjoying your performance.

Feeling emboldened by his reaction, you continued your playful dance, letting the music guide your movements. With each beat, you moved with more confidence, fully aware of Seonghwa's gaze on you.

As the song reached its climax, you struck one final pose, breathing heavily. Seonghwa clapped softly, pushing off from the doorframe and walking towards you. "That was quite the show," he said, his tone filled with genuine admiration.

You laughed, still catching your breath. "Well, I aim to entertain," you replied with a wink.

Seonghwa reached out, gently tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. "You always do," he said softly, his eyes locking onto yours. For a moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in your little bubble of happiness. "I think I might need a private encore later," he whispered, his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

"Maybe," you teased, "if you're lucky."

With that, the two of you shared a knowing smile, the chores momentarily forgotten as you basked in each other's company.

⌞yunho⌝ smack that by akon, eminem

It was Saturday night and your boyfriend was once again spending his whole weekend preparing for his Artist of the Month performance. You were genuinely happy that Studio Choom finally contacted him, as you knew nobody deserved it as much as Yunho, but you wished he could keep his weekends off for both of you to enjoy. You were ready to go out with your friend, dressed to impress, your hair and makeup looking expensive the way you liked the most. You were finishing your glass of wine, savoring the last few sips as you mentally prepared yourself for the evening ahead. The music was playing in the background, setting the perfect mood. You were supposed to turn off the music and order yourself a taxi to get to the bar, but then the song changed to Smack That by Akon and you couldn't force yourself to skip it. The infectious beat immediately caught your attention, and you felt a surge of energy. You found yourself moving to the rhythm, swaying your hips, and rapping along to the catchy lyrics. Your hips were moving suggestively to the song, a glass of wine in one of your hands, the other on your waist helping you to keep the right rhythm. As the chorus started, you smiled to yourself, feeling a playful energy surge through you. You put your wine glass down. With a mischievous grin, you grabbed your ass and did exactly what was in the song title, moving in perfect sync with the beat. And in that moment you heard a thud. You looked in the direction the sound was coming from and saw your boyfriend walking towards you with determined strides, his bag on the floor behind him. His intense gaze was fixed on you, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. You couldn't even react when he grabbed your chin, firmly lifting your face to meet his eyes. His other hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you into him with a possessive grip. The proximity made your heart race, and you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin.

"Looks like someone's having fun without me," Yunho murmured, his voice low and husky.

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening as you stared into his eyes. "I didn't hear you come in," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the music.

Yunho pulled you in for a deep, passionate kiss, his lips capturing yours with an intensity that made your knees weak. Without breaking the kiss, he firmly turned you around, his strong hands guiding your body with ease. One hand slid down to your thigh, gripping it possessively, while the other wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. You could feel his breath on your neck, hot and demanding, as he pressed you hard against his crotch. The sudden contact sent a shiver up your spine, your body responding instinctively to his touch. His grip tightened, making it clear he wasn't planning to let go anytime soon. You pushed your ass harder and pressed it against Yunho’s crotch, clearly enjoying the effect you had on him. He groaned softly, his breath hitching as he felt the pressure. "You ain’t going nowhere," he muttered, his voice thick with desire.

"I guess my plans just changed," you whispered, your voice weak as you felt your boyfriend's lips on your neck.

⌞yeosang⌝ work by rihanna

Yeosang went to the gym earlier this morning, telling you he wanted to get in a good workout before starting the day. He promised to be back by lunchtime to take you out for a nice meal and perhaps some shopping or a walk in the park. You waited for him patiently, ready to go whenever he would return. To pass the time, you turned on the big TV screen and played Rihanna’s top track playlist. As you mindlessly scrolled through social media, the catchy tune of Work started to fill the room, and you couldn’t help but move your body to the rhythm. You've always loved that song so you got up from the couch. The infectious beat took over your body, making you sway your hips and move sensually to the rhythm. You made your way to the table to put your phone down when the chorus hit. With one hand, you held the table to keep yourself steady as you dropped your ass to the floor, swaying it left and right as you were slowly getting back up. You could feel the burn in your thighs as you moved back up, but the infectious beat of the song made it all worthwhile. The sensual sway of your hips felt natural, almost instinctive as if your body was made to move this way. With each rise and fall, you felt more and more in tune with the music, your confidence growing with every beat. As you stood back up, your movements became even more fluid, your body fully embracing the rhythm. You turned around, and to your surprise, you faced Yeosang, a red blush covering his neck and ears. His eyes were wide with surprise, clearly taken aback by your dance.

You bit your lip, feeling a rush of both embarrassment and excitement. "Enjoying the show?" you asked, trying to sound casual despite the butterflies in your stomach.

Yeosang's eyes widened even more, and he struggled to find his words. "I... uh... didn't mean to interrupt," he stammered, his voice tinged with both surprise and admiration.

"You better not have," you teased, giving him a playful wink as you continued to dance, feeling more confident with each passing moment.

Yeosang's face broke into a shy smile, the blush deepening as he took a cautious step closer. "I didn't know you had moves like that," he said, his voice tinged with both admiration and bashfulness.

You laughed, feeling a sense of pride mixed with playful embarrassment. "There's a lot you don't know about me," you teased, giving him a wink as you continued to sway to the rhythm. Yeosang swallowed hard, his eyes taking you in, clearly captivated by your sensual movements. His gaze traveled over your body, lingering on the way your hips swayed and the confidence radiating from you. You could see the admiration and desire in his eyes, making you feel even more empowered. You stepped closer to him as you danced, putting one of your arms on his shoulder, your gaze shifting from his eyes to his lips, then back up. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the anticipation building between you. Slowly, you started to go down, your hand tracing down Yeosang's body, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt. As your hand traveled lower, his breath hitched. You moved with deliberate slowness, savoring every moment, every inch of his body under your touch. When you finally reached his waist, you paused for a moment, looking up at him through your lashes. The intensity in his gaze made your heart race, and you could tell he was struggling to maintain his composure. You continued your descent, your fingers brushing against his thighs, feeling the tension in his muscles. As you reached the floor, you gave him a teasing smile, your body swaying seductively to the rhythm of the music. The atmosphere was electric, and charged. You started to rise again, your hand retracing its path up his body, feeling his breath quicken with each passing second. You stood up slowly, your body still swaying to the rhythm of the music, and gave him a teasing smile, "Should we get going?"

Yeosang's eyes were full of desire, and he took a deep breath before responding. "I think we can spare a few more minutes," he replied, his voice husky. You laughed softly, feeling a rush of excitement at his words. You continued to sway your hips to the music, your body moving closer to his. Yeosang reached out, his hand gently caressing your waist as he pulled you even closer. "You’re making it really hard to focus on anything else," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

You smiled, feeling a sense of power and confidence. "Good," you whispered back, your voice filled with playful seduction. "Because I don't want you thinking about anything else right now." With that, you leaned in and captured his lips in a passionate kiss, your bodies moving together in perfect harmony to the rhythm of the music. As the kiss deepened, Yeosang's grip on your waist tightened, his hands exploring the curves of your body.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other. "Maybe we should stay in after all," Yeosang suggested, his voice barely above a whisper.

You laughed softly, nodding in agreement. "I think that sounds like a perfect plan," you replied, feeling a sense of contentment and excitement for the moments yet to come.

⌞san⌝ buttons by pussycat dolls

Your boyfriend's birthday was coming up, and your friend had talked you into giving him a lap dance. Initially, you were a bit hesitant, feeling shy about the idea. Not everybody's boyfriend was an incredible dancer, and you didn't want to embarrass yourself. The thought of trying to match San's moves and charisma when he was performing made you a little nervous. You decided to give it your best shot, hoping that your sincerity and the love behind the gesture would shine through, even if your dance moves weren't perfect. It was a late evening before his birthday, and for the hundredth time, you played the music video to Buttons, trying to figure out how the hell Nicole did that move on that chair. You watched her every move, analyzing the choreography with a mix of admiration and frustration. The way she effortlessly blended strength and sensuality was mesmerizing, and you couldn't help but feel a bit intimidated. Determined to get it right, you positioned a chair in front of the mirror, mimicking her moves as best as you could. You adjusted your posture, trying to channel Nicole's confidence and grace. The music filled the room, and you attempted the dance sequence once again, focusing on the smooth transitions and precise movements. Despite the challenges, you felt a sense of accomplishment with each small improvement.

When you finally got everything right, you decided to try and rehearse the choreography one last time with your outfit, or lack of it, and shoes on. You still had some time until San would get back home, so you went into your room and put your lingerie on, together with the high heels. You took a deep breath, trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach. After adjusting the straps and checking your reflection in the mirror one last time, you walked back to the living room where you had set up the chair. The anticipation built up inside you, and you could feel your heart racing. You started the music once more, letting the familiar beats fill the room. As you moved through the choreography, you felt a sense of empowerment. Each step, each sway of your hips, was a testament to your determination and love for San. You imagined his reaction, the look of surprise and admiration in his eyes, and it fueled your performance even more.

The door creaked open just as you were finishing the routine. Your heart skipped a beat as you saw San standing there, his eyes wide with surprise and a smile slowly spreading across his face.

"Well, this is a surprise," he said, his voice filled with admiration.

You blushed but didn't stop, finishing the last few moves with a flourish. As the music faded, you stood there, slightly out of breath, but filled with a sense of accomplishment and anticipation. "You weren't supposed to see it yet," you stammered, your voice tinged with a mix of surprise and shyness.

San's eyes twinkled with amusement as he took a step closer, his smile widening, his dimples showing. "Well, I have to say, I'm glad I did," he replied, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "You look amazing baby."

You took a deep breath, trying to regain your composure. "I wanted it to be a surprise for your birthday," you admitted, feeling the initial nervousness starting to fade away.

San reached out, gently taking your hand in his. "And it is," he said softly, his grip reassuring. "The best surprise I could ask for."

With his encouraging words, you felt a surge of confidence. "Well, in that case," you said with a playful grin, "why don't you take a seat and enjoy the full performance?"

San's eyes lit up with anticipation as he nodded eagerly, quickly finding a spot to sit down. You restarted the music, letting the rhythm take over as you began the dance once more, this time with him as your captive audience.

⌞mingi⌝ streets by doja cat

You were incredibly mad. Mingi was attending one of those prestigious award ceremonies, and being the supportive girlfriend that you are, of course, you decided to watch it live to cheer him on from afar. During one of the last performances by one of the most popular girl groups, they were doing an incredibly sexy choreography on chairs. Your boyfriend was, unfortunately, unlucky enough to be caught by the ever-watchful cameraman staring intently at one of the girl group members. To make matters worse, a wide grin spread across his face as he licked his lips, completely mesmerized by the performance. Oh, how you wished you could reach through the screen and wipe that stupid, infuriating grin off his face. You were already plotting your next move, determined to make your boyfriend pay for his wandering eyes. The revenge will be sweet. The opportunity presented itself a few days later when he was about to return home from the award ceremony. Mingi texted you he was on his way from the airport and you were so ready to make him squirm and beg for forgiveness. You dimmed the lights, and lit up candles across the living room, creating an intimate glow. You had meticulously prepared for this moment, wearing the lingerie he got you for your birthday on your body. The delicate lace hugged your curves perfectly, making you feel empowered and seductive. As you waited, you could feel your excitement and anticipation growing. You replayed the scene from the award ceremony in your mind, fueling your determination to make him understand the consequences of his actions. The sound of the front door unlocking pulled you from your thoughts.

Mingi stepped inside, his eyes immediately widening as he took in the setting. His gaze traveled over your body sitting on a chair in the middle of the living room, lingering appreciatively on the lingerie. You could see the momentary confusion in his eyes, quickly replaced by a look of desire.

"Wow, what's all this?" he asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and excitement. You walked towards him slowly, your hips swaying seductively with each step. Without a word you took his hand and guided him to the chair, pushing him down gently. As he sat, you pressed play and Streets started playing. You straddled his lap, your hands resting on his shoulders. Mingi was quick to grab your waist but you pushed them off of you quickly, "No touching," you warned him as your hand grabbed his hair, pulling his head back slightly. His eyes widened in surprise, but a smirk quickly formed on his lips as he realized you were in control. You leaned in close, your breath hot against his ear as you whispered, "Tonight is all about you learning a lesson."

Mingi's smirk faltered slightly, replaced by a look of anticipation and desire. You could feel the tension between you growing thicker, the air charged with electricity. Slowly, you moved your hips, grinding against him in a tantalizing rhythm, your hands never leaving his hair.

His breath hitched, and you could see the struggle in his eyes as he fought the urge to touch you. "You like watching other girls, huh?" you teased, your voice dripping with mock sweetness. "Well, let's see if you can handle just watching tonight." You continued your slow, deliberate movements, your body arching and swaying to the rhythm of the music. Each motion was designed to drive him wild, to make him regret ever letting his eyes wander. The intensity of his gaze and the way he bit his lip told you that your plan was working.

⌞wooyoung⌝ drunk in love by beyoncé, jay-z

You were bored out of your mind, your boyfriend had been playing games since early afternoon, leaving you to yourself. You finally switched off Netflix, feeling unsatisfied with the endless scrolling. With a sigh, you opened the YouTube app, hoping to find a soundtrack to make your time in the kitchen more enjoyable. Lately, Wooyoung and you were into Beyoncé, so you played her music video playlist and went to the kitchen. Music filled the room, the lively beats instantly brightening your mood as you gathered your ingredients and started to cook dinner. After a short while, you heard the intro to Drunk in Love and you decided to play it louder. The sultry beats and Beyoncé's mesmerizing voice filled the kitchen, making you sway your hips as you chopped vegetables. You couldn't help but sing along, feeling the music take over your body.

You took one of the big dippers and started to sing to it, pretending it to be your microphone. You feel like a superstar on a grand stage as you move around the kitchen, twirling and dancing as if performing for a captivated audience. Every so often, you glanced towards your boyfriend's room, half-hoping Wooyoung would notice your performance and join in the fun. But for now, you were content to let the music and your imagination take you away.

You sit on the counter, the rhythm of the music coursed through you, compelling you to sway and groove in time with the beat. Your hand gripped the edge of the counter for balance as you leaned back slightly, letting your head tilt and your hair cascade down your back. You sang along to the lyrics, your voice blending with Beyoncé's. Your hips rolled sensuously, matching the sultry vibe of the song, and you couldn't help but smile, feeling utterly in the moment.

"Baby, would you mind turning the music down a bit?" you heard Wooyoung call from his room.

You smirked, feeling a wave of playful defiance wash over you. Ignoring Wooyoung's request, you raised your voice and sang the lyrics with even more enthusiasm, "I been sippin', that's the only thing, that's keepin' me on fire, we on fire!" Your voice echoed through the kitchen, you jumped off the counter, grabbing the big dipper again as your microphone, and strutted across the kitchen floor, feeling like a superstar on a grand stage. With each step, you let your hips sway more dramatically, fully embracing the rhythm. You spun around, your hair whipping through the air, and belted out the next line with just as much fervor.

Wooyoung poked his head out of his room, his initial frustration melting into a fond smile as he watched you.

You bit your lower lip and looked at him while singing, "I want your body right here, daddy, I want you, right now."

Wooyoung's eyes widened slightly, a smirk playing on his lips as he took in your playful performance. He stepped out of his room, the game momentarily forgotten, and walked towards you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Oh? Is that so?" he replied, his voice low and teasing as he reached you.

"Can't keep your eyes off my fatty, daddy, I want you" you continued singing as Wooyoung took the microphone from your hand, setting it aside before pulling you close, his hands resting on your hips. You wrapped your arms around his neck, swaying in time with the beat as you gazed into his eyes.

"Maybe I should take a break from my game," Wooyoung murmured, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

You smiled, feeling a rush of excitement. "I think that's a great idea," you replied, pulling him even closer.

"You know, you might just be better than Beyoncé," he joked, looking into your eyes.

"Oh, please," you laughed, feeling your cheeks flush. "But I'll take the compliment."

With a shared laugh, the two of you danced together in the kitchen, the earlier boredom forgotten as you lost yourselves in the music and each other.

⌞jongho⌝ partition by beyoncé

You got out of the shower, towel loosely wrapped around you, as you went through your evening routine. Jongho was still at practice, the tour was coming, so you knew better than to wait for him. He probably wouldn't be back till dawn. You glanced at your phone, hoping for a message from him, but the screen remained dark. You knew how important these practice sessions were, especially with the tour coming up, but you couldn't help but miss him. You moved to your bedroom and decided to play some music before heading to bed. The apartment felt unusually quiet without Jongho's presence, and you needed something to fill that silence. You connected your phone to the speaker and scrolled through your playlist, finally settling on a Beyoncé mix. The first notes of Partition began to play, the sultry beat filling the room. You ruffled through your wardrobe, searching for one of Jongho's t-shirts to sleep in. His scent always brought you comfort, especially on nights when he wasn't around. As the music played, you found yourself swaying to the rhythm, the infectious beat making it impossible to stand still. You tossed aside a few of your own shirts, determined to find one of his that you loved the most. The groove of the song took over, and you started to move your hips more deliberately, feeling the music course through your body. Finally, you found one of his oversized t-shirts at the bottom of the drawer. You held it up to your face, inhaling deeply before slipping it on. The fabric was soft and comforting, and you continued to dance, feeling a little closer to him with each step. You loved how Beyoncé's music made you feel sexy and empowered. You lay down on the bed and started to do your own choreography for the song. The rhythm guided your movements, each beat making you feel more confident. Your hands traced along your body, feeling the music in every touch. You couldn't help but feel a little hot all over as you kept twining around the bed, the music guiding your every move. The rhythm pulsed through you as you turned to your stomach, your ass up, matching the sultry beats of the song. The soft fabric of the bed sheets brushed against your skin, intensifying the sensations coursing through you. In no time, you were on your knees, grinding against the bed with a deliberate, sensual motion. Your hands gripped the sheets, your body moving fluidly to the music, lost in the moment. You played a bit with your t-shirt, lifting it playfully as you felt yourself getting worked up. The cool air against your skin mixed with the heat of the moment, intensifying your sensations. You let the fabric slide back down, but not before teasing yourself a bit more, feeling the gentle brush against your skin. With each sway of your hips and each subtle lift of the t-shirt, you could feel the tension building within you. The combination of the music, the feel of the soft cotton, and the thought of Jongho made your heart race.

You were so lost in the rhythm and sensations that you didn't hear the front door open. Jongho stepped inside, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of you moving sensually on the bed, wearing his t-shirt. He stood there for a moment, captivated by the scene, before quietly walking towards the bedroom. As he reached the doorway, you finally noticed him, your movements slowing as your eyes met his. The intensity in his gaze sent a shiver down your spine, and you could see the desire and admiration in his eyes. Jongho was stuck by the way your hips grind hard against the bed. Taking a few slow steps forward, he let his eyes roam over your body, appreciating every curve and movement. The intensity in his eyes made your breath hitch, and you could feel the heat between your legs growing with each passing second.

"Need some help, baby?" he asked, his voice low and husky, filled with a mix of admiration.

The words escaped your lips before you could fully process them, "Yes, please," you breathed out, your voice laced with more neediness than you had intended.

Jongho's lips curled into a smirk as he sat down on the bed beside you, his hands gently guiding you to straddle him. The music continued to play as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Let me take care of you."

│if you enjoy my writing please consider supporting me by reblogging ♡

#ateez reactions #ateez fluff #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez x you #ateez x y/n #hongjoong x reader #yunho x reader #seonghwa x reader #yeosang x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #ateez fic #jongho smut

296 notes · View notes

evilminji · 10 months ago

Text

You know one of the purposes of Lining?

Shock Absorption.

If the Zone is the Inter- and EXTRA-Dimensional Lining, connecting, containing, and generally powering all of Multiversal Creation? The Great Primordial Soup? The Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust, from which we came and too which we return?

If the Zone itself is basicly the place between Universe, where your soul goes to get washed down, cleaned up, recharged, and sent out to wherever the next random portal takes it? To BECOME whatever you happen to find? An infinte recycler and Multiversal management?

The great metaphorical Yggdrasil, grown far beyond few branches, into an incomprehensible forest of one?

Well!

That kinda changes things! And also nothing! Because it means that those who remain? Are basicly squatting in the DMV's attic. Have built bunkers, under the country's main power generator. They really SHOULD move along. Granted, there is no one to MAKE them... but like...

That's cause no one thought anyone would NEED too?

Lol. Don't they feel silly? Anyway, I'ma put MY house over-! *wander off to go squat in the rafters*

Yeah, the CONCEPTS are native. But those probably just generate naturally. It's all the Souls constantly flowing through. Lots of background Sentience and Memories and such being washed away into the air. But? Then these lil souls were like "yeah, but if THEY get to stay... me too! D:< " "no, you can-" "ME TOO" and then they stopped listening and did what they wanted.

Good thing we have literally infinte amounts of room.

T...there's so MANY, you guys.

But! Not the point here!

*smacks white board* Realities! The Die too sometimes! And get born! A beautiful process, really. You can find Reality Beads if you know When and Where to look, some times. They, OBVIOUSLY, don't last for very long. Since they are basicly just seed universe. The explosive growth takes them almost immediately out of our range of perception, as they Begin.

Foundations of all Life and such.

But good God are they MAGNIFICENT!

However, sometimes? The REVERSE happens. If you find the area of the Zone your in? Is getting... "wavey" is the best way people describe it. Distorted. Fun house mirror. As though your vision has weird wrinkles that are distorting and stretching your view of things? Get Out. FAST.

If it's only SLIGHT? Barely noticeable? You can grab your Lair. IF, and ONLY IF you are NEARBY! If not? Remember. Things can be replaced. YOU? Can not.

Cause that "wavey"-ness? Is the final stage of Realm Entropy. The universe that portion over the Zone is covering and connected too, is all hollowed out. And about to CAVE IN. You DO NOT want to be there when that happens!

Remember! You see "waves"? Fly for three days!

Get to the edge of the affected area then KEEP GOING for a full three days flight. Warn everyone in you path. We stay safe together, guy. Collapses are NO JOKE. People get... well. Let's just say it's NOT a nice way too go.

Knowing this of course? We should all be SAFE right? Respectful if Awed distance from Reality Seeds, run like he'll if "waves"? We Gucci?

.....Sooooorta.

*flips Whiteboard to other side, to reveal a cartoonishly drawn Supervillian labeled "Asshole"*

Behold! A Terrorist!

It's a charged word. Not used lightly. But THESE fuckers? Oh ho ho! THESE fuckers?! "Ooooh~! Look at MEEEEE! I'm gonna play with FORCES I DONT UNDERSTAAAAAAAND! Destabilize my whole funckin UNIVERSE! Kill countless TRILLIONS OF TRILLIONS! Cause life was bad to me personally and I'm mad about it! Wah wah wah!!" ASSHOLES!

These fuckers? Cause Collapses. Blow Outs. Weird Fucked Up Cancerous Real Growths. You ever seen the Cleaners? No? You don't WANT TOO. They are basically eldritch, deep sea, angler fish looking mother fuckers THE SIZE OF SOLAR SYSTEMS. They travel in SCHOOLS.

BIG ONES.

When Realities collapse, they "fall off" as it were. Detach. And have to get recycled. All the countless impurities of Life eaten way to a blank slate. So it too, can start again. Thus the Fish. But! They ALSO eat anything "problematic".

Like tumors. Cancers. Poisoned, Multiversal Threats. Those quote on quote "God Killers".

Yes. Yes this IS part of why you DONT want to be near a Collapsing Reality.

No I WON'T explain how I know.

I DONT WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT.

*smack the board with pointer* pay attention.

Jason Todd. Not! An Asshole. Sexy thighs. Fancy lil hair strip. We all miss him. But! He's off living his "no really, I'm totally alive, guys" hot girl summer or whatever. We are going to respect that! But!!! How did that happen? When he was DEFINITELY Hella dead?

Superboy Prime-y Pants. Who IS an ASSHOLE.

Because THAT fucker? PUNCHED HIS REALITY SO HARD IT NEARLY SHATTERED. Oh, no, I'm sorry! He punched SOMEONE ELSE'S reality! Because he is a tantruming MAN CHILD! And NOW? Now, Your Majesty, that WHOLE ASS Reality is more hair line cracks then border walls! One good shove? It'll cave in. Killing every soul inside.

The Cleaners are ALREADY circling.

It needs to be patched. Immediately. But that's not something normal ghosts can DO. The Zone won't LISTEN to us. Nor allocate the energy for it. The Concepts of Healing? We can't even FIND them.

We need help.

Please help them, King Phantom. You're the only one who CAN.

@hdgnj @babbling-babull @hypewinter @ailithnight @mutable-manifestation @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #Cracked Reality Au

883 notes · View notes

captainsophiestark · 3 months ago

Text

Take A Break

Javi Rivera x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: Twisters

Summary: As part of Kate's original crew of tornado-tamers, you're as much of a workaholic as she is. Thankfully, Javi's around to help pull his girlfriend out of her notes when she really needs a break.

Word Count: 1,123

Category: Fluff, Humor, kind of angst just because of what happens to the original crew, but you can easily pretend that doesn't happen in the timeline of this fic :)

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Hey, enough work for tonight. Come join the party with the rest of us."

I smiled to myself as I made a few last notes off the computer screen. I knew Jeb was mostly talking to Kate, but I also knew that if I stayed here and tried to keep working after he managed to get Kate to take a break, my boyfriend wouldn't be far behind to literally drag me away from my notes.

I scribbled down a few last things as Jeb herded Kate away to the campfire, then started the process of shutting down my computer. Just as the last program finished closing, two arms wrapped tightly around my waist and picked me up, pulling me away from my work at the back of the truck.

"Javi!" I squealed, laughing as he slung me over one shoulder and started heading for the campfire.

"Yeah babe?"

"I was about to head over!"

"Oh yeah, I've heard that one before. Sorry, I know you too well. I know how fast another minute can turn into another hour. I care about this project as much as you do, but you need to take a break."

I sighed, rolling my eyes even though Javi couldn't see me. Even so, I couldn't totally hold back a smile.

"You know, Jeb just came and threw an arm around Kate."

"That's because Jeb lacks commitment," Javi responded as we neared the fire with the rest of our friends. He made sure to speak loudly enough that Jeb could hear him, too. "And because Kate's easier to convince than you are."

I scoffed, but the impact was lessened as Javi flopped into one of the chairs around the fire, pulling me around to sit in his lap in one smooth move. I shook my head and grinned up at him once we landed.

"You don't want your own chair?"

"My girl's had her head in her work, completely ignoring me for hours. No, I don't want my own chair."

I laughed, snuggling in closer to Javi and resting my head on his chest. He wrapped his arms tighter around me, and I smiled to see the rest of our friends settled comfortably around the fire, too.

"Glad you could finally join us!" called Praveen, Addy grinning beside him. I grinned right back.

"Don't act like I'm the only workaholic in this group," I said, fake-scowling as I curled closer into Javi's side. "You're all just as bad as I am. That's why we're friends."

"Alright, I resent the implicaiton that I don't know how to have a healthy work-life balance," said Javi, drawling his words a little as he held up his hands on either side of me to help illustrate his point. "I know how to have fun and how to work my ass off with Dorothy."

I twisted in Javi's lap to look up at him with a frown.

"Is it a healthy work-life balance to go way too hard on work and fun?"

He just looked down at me with a grin, leaning in for a quick kiss before pulling back with the same roguish smile.

"Hell yeah it is."

I just laughed and shook my head, leaning back on his shoulder as he tigthened his arms around me.

"Alright, whatever you say. I guess that's what college is for anyway, even if it's grad school."

"We're making memories. We have to have something to say when we're being interviewed for our incredible scientific breakthrough. Some good memories for the memoir."

"He's right," Jeb chimed in, leaning back and stretching his arm out across Kate's chair. "Most people won't want to hear that we spent every hour of every day in the lab. They want to know the people behind the science."

"I don't think any of the journals we want to publish in are going to care about who we are outside of the lab," Kate countered, flopping back against Jeb. "Or the people reading our grant proposals."

"Still works for the long-term headlines," Addy chimed in. "'Brilliant scientists tame the tornado, protecting the home where they spent countless nights together'."

"I think that's a little long," mused Kate.

"It makes it sound like we were all sleeping with each other or something," I added.

"Yeah, that's just the two sets of lovebirds over there," Praveen added.

Kate and Jeb smiled, Kate tucking her head into Jeb's shoulder, and I shot Praveen a wink before leaning up to give Javi a quick kiss. Praveen and Addy liked to make a big show of covering their eyes and shouting at any sign of PDA, but we knew it was all in good fun. They loved the four of us, both separately and as couples, even if they'd both developed strong ten minute comedy sets on the fact that they weren't dating each other or anyone else in our little group.

"Alright, enough of this," Kate said, leaning forward and raising an eyebrow. "I came over here with the promise of s'mores. So where are they?"

"Javi packed them," said Jeb, nodding in our direction. Javi shifted under me, settling further into the chair and wrapping his arms a little tighter around me.

"They're in the back of the van, but somebody else is gonna have to get them. I'm settled in here, and if I don't keep an eye on this one, she might just run right back to her computers."

Most of our friends rolled their eyes, but even so, Addy stood up.

"Lucky for both of you, I want s'mores enough that I'm willing to get up and take one for the team."

"Thank you, Addy," we chorused. She just waved us off with a smile. I waited until she passed Javi and I and got all the way to the truck, then leaned up to whisper in my boyfriend's ear.

"You absolutely know I wouldn't choose computers over s'mores. Probably ever."

"Of course I know," Javi said, leaning down to whisper in my ear with a smile, nuzzling into the crook of my shoulder. "But I'm enjoying sitting with you like this. We're too comfortable to be getting up for s'mores when we have friends that'll take care of that for us."

I laughed, nodding and resting my forehead against his.

"You're right. Genius decision."

"I know."

We shared a smile, one of Javi's hands gently squeezing my thigh as I leaned in to give him another quick kiss. Sitting by the fire with him, surrounded by all our friends, was my absolute favorite happy place. It made all the work and risk and long nights spent huddled over calculations and theories worth it, to be able to do it with Javi and the rest of our crew.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

172 notes · View notes

thewritergremlin-rae · 2 months ago

Note

Hi! If you wanted to could you write a Soulmate AU or Drunken confessions (Loki x reader) pls thanks <333

Thanks for the request anon! I have way too many soulmate AU ideas already so I went with drunken confessions ehehehe

A Casual Exchange

Pairing: Loki x Reader Rating: M Words: 763 Content: 2nd person, fluff, drunken/tipsy reader Summary: Your night winds to a close - your parting words leaving Loki stunned. AO3: HERE

Banner by cafekitsune

You hadn’t meant to get drunk.

No. Really.

You’d been nursing one glass, only it had never ended. You had a feeling your favourite Asgardian had something to do with it. Plopping down on the couch, your drink sloshed but you didn’t feel a splash and, looking over at Loki, none of it had spilt on him either.

Your eyes got a little stuck on Loki, like they always did. Such a beautiful being. Skin - flawless, cheekbones - sharp enough to cut yourself on, legs - never ending.

The sound of him clearing his throat brought your gaze back to his face but you didn’t feel any of that familiar, heavy embarrassment in your stomach. You laughed as he arched a delicate eyebrow.

“Yes, dear?” His eyes sparkled with mischief, his gaze washing over your swaying, the slight dazed look in your eyes, and the curve of your lips as you giggled.

The giggling was his favourite.

“Are you having fun, Loki?” You laid your arm out over the back of the couch and flopped your head down on it as you waited for his answer. Fingers caught the end of his curls, twisting and twirling them, brain fizzing and focusing on the silky feel.

Loki snorted softly, you having no idea you’d missed his answer. “You seem to be having far more fun.”

You giggled again and tugged a little on the curl, watching it bounce back into place. “Yeah… Do you use magic on these?” You flicked a curl again and his long fingers curled around your traitorous ones.

“No, that would be pointless when I can simply use products. And I certainly would never be so strange as Midgardians as to put dangerous chemicals in my hair to change the colour.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you processed the information. “Guess you’re right. See, that’s why humans should be feared. What other race kept eating mushrooms until they found the ones that made them trip balls?”

“You also season your food with peppers that developed semi-poisonous defense mechanisms to avoid being eaten, your race deciding that that makes them taste good.”

You laughed and grinned. “Jalapeno poppers are the best and you’re just jealous you don’t have processed sugar on your planet.”

Loki gave an elegant shrug. “I concede that chocolate is certainly one of your species’ better inventions.” He smiled, pulling a bar seemingly from nowhere as he traded it for your drink.

Probably a good idea, you were just on the edge of sober enough to know that as you dug in and nibbled. “Thanks, Loki, you’re the best.”

A subtle twitch in his expression caught your eye but you weren’t sharp enough to figure it out right now. Actually, Loki should have some of this chocolate too but his hands were pretty full.

You snapped off a piece and held it to his lips, grinning when he accepted it with nothing more than a cocked eyebrow. But he soon got his own back, dragging a gasp from your soft lips when he nipped the tip of your thumb.

You stared at your thumb as you brought it back to you. It tingled a little, still warm.

A distant laugh had the sounds of the party around you filtering back in and you realised it’s a little loud. “Me and the chocolate are going to go to bed.” Loki seemed a little sad to lose your company but perhaps he shouldn’t have refilled your cup so much. No-one was ever thankful for a hangover.

“A good idea. Good night.”

“Night night, Loki. Love you.” You leaned forward with a bounce to kiss his cheek and got to your feet, leaving him stunned.

Did you just say…

You waved to him as if you didn’t just profess your love for him and disappeared inside the elevator. How could you not realise….?

You hummed to yourself, nibbling at the chocolate. Head empty, no thoughts as you crossed to your bedroom door.

Wait.

Did you say ‘love you’ to Loki? Your brain slowly swings back to the memory and your eyes widen when you hear the words in your own voice.

Oh shit. You hurried back to the elevator, cut short by the appearance of a firm chest in your narrowed field of vision.

“Did we perhaps realise what we said, love?” Loki whispered, hoping he looked not the least bit flustered by your casual admission. His arms caught you and held you close before he caught your lips.

“Loki…” you breathed and he chuckled.

“I might be persuaded to remind you come morning.”

Want to be tagged in future Loki fic? Go here

Check out my masterlist!

Tags: @kindadolly @ilovetaquitosmmmm @satan-ate-my-sandwitch @ravenswritingroom

#loki x reader #loki odinson x reader #loki laufesyon x reader #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki fluff #x reader #mcu reader insert #mcu x reader

168 notes · View notes

hotchfiles · 10 months ago

Text

❝ [IN THIS HOUSE OF MINE] ❞ — a 'cuz you're a natural sequel ; MDNI!

pairing: aaron hotchner x rossi!reader. summary: he vowed not to make a move on you, he never promised not to reciprocate yours. content warnings: yeah this one's smutty. fingering. oral (f! receiving). unprotected p in v. foul language. age-gap if you read part one. not proof read. 18+. MDNI. word count: 1,6k. a/n: i'm not a smut writer, hotch just fucks up my brain chemistry.

It's late when Aaron gets home, you shouldn't know that because you shouldn't be there. You had made him the favor of watching over Jack while Jessica had some medical appointments. You didn't mind, Jack was a good boy and the place smelled like Hotch. He told you it was only for a few hours and as soon as she picked Jack up, you could leave.

But you didn't, you stayed, and you waited. And almost scared him to death as he noticed the front door unlocked, hand going straight for his gun, a loud sigh of relief when he noticed it was just you. "Why're you still here? It's late."

You kneed on the couch, looking at him as he put his keys and suitcase over the table. "Want me to make an excuse? Lie?" You ask, completely straightforward, the time for the little games, the hunt, the flirting... Put behind you the moment he showed you interest weeks before. You were just waiting for the right moment, and there it was, presented to you on a silver platter.

He wasn't necessarily speechless, but rather weighting his options, debating the outcomes of each of his answers. He vowed to himself to not make a move on you, to not act on it. But there you were, on his house, knees to his couch, eyes glued on him. He glances your lips for few seconds, licking his own in the process. "I don't do lies."

Now you're the one thinking about your answer, how crass should you be? Should you tell him you're there still because you want to see him? To touch him? To hear him? Or should you be a bit more daring? Show him you're not playing games...

He's still some steps away from you, you're still in control, your voice won't crack, you're breathing completely fine, so you decide to use that in your favor while you can, going for the last option, "I'm still here because I want you to fuck me."

Aaron is a bit taken aback by the weight of your choice of words, but he's still him, so he only sighs, his thumb and middle finger going to his eyes, as if he was dealing with some sort of nuisance and not a gorgeous, fun and bold young woman ready to give him everything he craves and needs so much.

His hesitance should stop you, but it makes you feel like a fucking winner. He could've denied you right away. He could've been shocked, appalled. But he was neither and that makes you get out of the couch, closing the distance between your body and his, your glance up to him was challenging, defiant almost. "Agent Hotchner, you don't do lies. Tell me you don't want this and I'll leave."

Is he more aroused by the way you call him agent or by the fact he just doesn't know if you're bluffing or not? Aaron's not sure, but he's been so starved of the sort of attention you're giving him and he's so tired he can't fight his hunger anymore, he pushes you to the nearest wall as his reply, one of his hands pulls one of your legs up, placing it around his waist, the other pulls your lips to him by your neck.

The kiss is rough, harsh, he easily dominates you with it, stealing pants from you that it usually takes men a lot more to get, but you're not about to give him all the control, you were the one to go after him after all, so you sink your teeth to his bottom lip until you feel the taste of metal and Aaron moans, breaking the kiss to throw his head back, his cock hardening against his clothes. Against you.

Not that he was expecting you to be completely submissive under his touch, but your boldness was a surprise that kept on giving, you pushed him off of you, walking slowly towards his bedroom as you took each piece of clothing you were wearing off of your body, making a trail of it he gladly followed.

By the time you both get to his bedroom, only your panties are left and you lay on his bed, offering yourself for him to take. Aaron loudly groans, his shoes and his pants following the fate of your own before hovering your body, knee between your thighs giving you the friction you so desperately need. He should ask if you're sure about this, he should remind you of the consequences this could entail. He's usually so much better than this, so much more careful, but the second your hips move trying to get more from him and the moan escapes your throat the only words that leave his are not even close to what he should, "Gonna be the death of me, dear." You're glad he still has his shirt and tie on as you pull him to you with it, leaving to him to set up the pace of the kiss.

It was messy and greedy, his tongue took turns between exploring your mouth and leaving trails of saliva in between your shoulders and your chin, his hands were not much better, from your breasts to your waist, from your waist to your thighs and back to your breasts, rubbing your nipple harshly, making you squirm under him.

It doesn't take long for him to get you out of your last piece of clothing, his shirt and tie along with it, you sigh in disappointment, he could've left the tie, but you can't dwell on it much when he makes you fold up your legs and gives your folds that first slow, torturous swipe of his tongue. Your back arches and your hips buckle as he works you up, you find the only way to keep your body steady is to tug on his hair and grip on the pillow behind your head.

He's good, oh, he's so good, you can't even praise him properly, your brain going completely numb with pleasure, your voice being able to only whine his name and ask him for more, please, and he's not denying you anything as he inserts his thumb on your already slick hole, his tongue not leaving your clit, only changing paces and movements until he noticed which one made you writhe the most, your moaning getting more high pitched as you felt that known feeling of impending orgasm forming.

Aaron replaces his thumb with his middle finger and his tongue with his thumb, wanting to be closer to you, looking deep inside your eyes as you came undone for him, he kept his pace, observing your reactions, the way your hips moved trying to close your thighs on him, how your hands gripped the sheets. A thought of something he hasn't felt in a while passes through him and he tells you to move your hand to his shoulder, to his back. "Mark me." It's a demand, and you gladly oblige, sinking your nails to his flesh, scratching him and using his skin as an anchor as you started seeing white, the fastest and hardest orgasm a man has ever given you.

He helps you ride your high down, only moving his hand away when you were overstimulated by it, he sucks on his middle finger first and then inserts his thumb in your mouth so you can do the same, "Got what you stayed for?" He teases, and your hands go straight to his boxers, pulling it down so you can touch his stiff cock, already glistening with his precum.

"Not yet, agent." Your thumb barely touches his tip and he's sighing, eyes closed and lips between his own teeth to hold himself. He wants to push your head, feel your defiant mouth around him, but he hopes for another time as he takes your hand off of him, quickly and awkwardly getting his boxers completely out of his body.

Aaron positions himself between your legs, tapping your thigh as a command so you wrap them around his waist, he pumps himself two more times and shoves his cock into you, fully, no warning, earning a gasp from your lips and more scars on his back. It takes a second for you to adjust but it's not painful, sooner than he expects you're using your legs to push him deeper, to move.

You purposefully clench around his length, wanting nothing more than to see his face contort in pleasure, the pleasure you're giving him. Even if it causes him to last less, you want him to lose it, to throw his self control out the window.

He's about to tell you that he won't last if you keep doing it, but he sees your intentions clear as day by the lust in your eyes, your lips parted observing how gorgeous he looked panting, sweating for you. It makes him pick up his pace, faster and hitting harder that spot that makes you cry out his name, touching your forehead with his as he reached for his own peak. Letting out a low lingering fuck as he did so, the way his pubes hit your clit along with his pace enough to tip you over the edge once more that night.

Normally he would offer a bath once he's out of you, his seed dripping to your thighs, but he's too tired and sleepy so he just pulls you into his arms, his face nuzzling into your neck. You don't complain, wanting to enjoy this moment of proximity, hoping it wouldn't be the last.

Aaron hopes the same.

#lari writes sometimes #aaron x reader #aaron x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch imagine #hotch scenario #aaron hotchner smut #hotch smut #aaron hotch smut

546 notes · View notes

tarjapearce · 1 year ago

Note

Lips anon! MY HEART 😭 Gabi is such a sweetheart ❤️ Imagine her being particularly pouty, and when Mama asks what's wrong, she's like "I want a little sibling!"

Mama thinks it's funny, but later that night, Miguel is like, "Gabi wants to be a big sister. We should get to work, cariño..."

I can just picture this like:

Gabriela wasn't a quiet child, perhaps a bit pouty when she thought too much on something, another trait inherited from Miguel. And you couldn't help stare at her as she had fixated her somewhat little glare on the fruit she was munching on.

"Are you ok, cariño?"

She just nodded and you stopped chopping some vegetables for tonight's dinner.

"Something on your mind?" You prodded softly not wanting to be overbearing or too pushy. She sighed.

"Everyone in school is talking about how fun is to be an eldest sibling, and Raquel is always all 'my little brother this, my little brother that'" She sighed, annoyed, as your cheeks flushed, knowing now where this was going.

It didn't help that Miguel just walked in, glasses on his face, a mug of coffee in hand and a relaxed expression on his face, that instantly turned into a curious one as he kissed Gabi on the forehead.

"¿Qué le pasa a mi solecito?" (What's wrong with my little sunshine?)

He then kissed you and put his mug on a nearby counter.

"Quiero" She paused and cleared her throat, her hands folded before her, as if she was trying to make a serious negotiation.

"I want a sibling."

Miguel and you froze, most of the nervous glances came from you, Miguel seemed to actually be contemplating it. You elbowed him when Gabriela's stare fell on you upon the silence stretching too long.

"Gabriela, mi amor..." you trailed. A few of the spanish endearment words you had learned from Miguel, "A sibling isn't something that just pops out of nowhere."

"How do you make them then?"

Shit.

Miguel couldn't help but genuinely look at the scene displaying before him with amusement in his eyes. He wanted to laugh, hia fangs poking enough self control.

"W-Well, you see..." your stuttering only made her little frown to turn more curious. Of course she was a smart girl, and explaining where the babies came from was something you had been mentally preparing yourself to do. She was 10.

"Do you know how a baby grow into my belly, right?"

She nodded, curiosity making her eyes round in wonder.

"Teacher explained us that it takes a long time to grow a baby"

"Indeed. Nine months actually" She gasped and frowned.

"But... that means I won't be a big sister until next year?!"

"It's a delicate process, mi amor."

She sighed and nodded, disappointed.

"But, that means the making takes a long time as well then?"

She wasn't leaving it. But if one thing you had learned is to never underestimate the understanding capacity of a kid. You weren't squeamish about talking on sexuality or Sex Ed to Gabriela, you just weren't prepared for it. But the time had come.

"It's quite simple, but it's not always successful. Babies are made when the sperm fertilizes an egg that is my uterus. Right here." You pointed at your lower belly.

"And how does that happen?"

"Something called, sexual intercourse, mi sol." Miguel spoke with a serious expression.

"And what is that?"

"When your father and I love each other, including our bodies."

"Ah..." She looked like putting two and two together and it suddenly clicked.

"Then, you better start soon."

Gabriela shrugged as you both were left speechless.

"A baby girl would it be too much to ask?"

"Let me see what I can do, alright? Go change for dinner" Miguel nodded with a smile as Gabriela hopped off the chair and left you alone. He sighed as you remained there, almost a bit too stunned of how things just happened.

"My god..."

"It was a good talk. Don't worry."

"I worry. She wants a baby sister."

"Guess we have to work hard to get her a baby sister, hm?"

Your cheeks grew impossibly red.

------

(Yeah, kiddos understand way better than people give em credit for. 👀)

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara fluff #💋 anon #t writes✨#Soccer Family ⚽🕷️

999 notes · View notes

billthedrake · 8 months ago

Text

WINGMAN

I generally had a clean lifestyle, at least lately, but it was Mike Gelson's bachelor party, and we five dudes were partying it up in Nashville. I may have been doing my goody two-shoes Brendan Peters thing and getting club soda every few rounds, but my tolerance was down and I was getting good and truly wasted.

My best buddy James Carducci noticed, too. Like me, he was a big guy, a former tight end who carried a lot of muscle on his 6'5" frame, but unlike me he could hold his liquor.

"You gonna get laid tonight, Peters?" he growled in my ear as we entered the room we were sharing. "It's fun to see you let your hair down."

I gave him a scowl but knew he was just ribbing me. It's what buddies did. "Why can't we have the bachelor party in New York or something?"

Carducci knew what I meant. He plopped on one of the beds, his big frame taking up most of the double bed mattress. "Bro, you could have all the gay dudes around you and you'd still be too fuckin' picky."

I lay down on the other bed, looking over at my best friend. We'd both moved to the same city after graduation. Coming out had been a big messy process for me, and James had been the most supportive of my college friends. He was enthusiastically bisexual - not advertising it or anything, but we quickly realized we could switch from teammate-buddies to guy talk and back.

Still, we were opposites in a lot of ways. "Dude... it's easy for you. You just want to get your dick wet."

We'd had versions of this conversation before. He grinned. "Bro, maybe you should get your dick wet for a change. It'd keep you from being a cranky bitch." Yeah, Carducci could get away saying stuff to me no one else could. Then turning his meaty body on his side, he looked right at me. "I get it, Peters. But maybe while you wait for Mr. Right, you can have some fun. I mean, Kevin Murphy's not gonna suck your cock."

"What the fuck?!" I played dumb. Kevin had been the kicker on our D1 team and was Mike Gelson's best man. He was my type to a T... shorter than me and leaner, boy-next-door cute, tight body and a bubble ass.

James lay back again and put his arms around his back, arms knotted and pumped. If I was into big dudes like myself, there might be sexual tension between us. "Bro, it's all over your face. Remember, I know your fuckin' type."

"C'mon, JC," I pleaded, using my nickname for him.

He grinned. "Don't worry, Peters, I'm not gonna say anything to anyone. You know that. Crush out on Murphy all you want. You're just barking up the wrong tree."

"Yeah," I sighed. "It's majorly against the bro code." I was starting to get resentful of how being a horny gay dude and an ex-jock living by the bro code were not exactly compatible.

That got a deep laugh from JC. "So's fucking your buddy's dad."

I sat up, the alcohol and quick movement making my head dizzy. "What?!?!" Normally I'd write off the comment as Carducci being a jokester but the way his words came out made them seem real.

He now sat up and reached down to paw at his crotch to rearrange his junk. "This stays between us," he warned.

"Scouts honor, man," I replied.

My friend got a wild look on his face and a leer as he said, "I banged Gelson's dad."

"Mike Gelson," I clarified. "The fucking groom."

He seemed annoyed. "What other Gelsons do you know, dumbass? Yeah, Mike Gelson's father. It was a couple of years ago, when Mike invited a couple of us to his family's lake house." James was closer to Gelson than I was, which only made what he was describing seme more transgressive.

"Dude, isn't Mr. Gelson like 45?" I'd briefly met the man once but he didn't make too much an impression on me, I guess.

Carducci leered. "He was 50 then, and it was fucking glorious. A whole week, both of us enjoying sneaking around." I knew JC had a bit of a kink for married men. We didn't overshare, but I'd very occasionally hear about a hookup or, more often, I'd unload about a date that didn't go like I wanted.

I had to rib him now. "What, you going for the daddies now, JC?"

Without missing a beat, he looked at me with his brown eyes. "Abso-fucking-lutely, Peters. Exclusively even. You should try an older dude for a change."

I didn't think I was easily shocked but the turn of the conversation had indeed rattled me. I went silent before I said quietly, "Man, I couldn't date a guy my dad's age. What the fuck?"

He laughed. "Dude, who's talking about dating? You're a hot fucking dude, you should be having sex nonstop... " He paused. "Can I be honest, bro?"

I nodded, bracing myself for the barrage of criticism. But this was Carducci, I knew he was looking after me.

"Well," James started. "You always go for the unavailable ones like Murphy, or for the stuck up ones who think they're the shit for having an Insta following." For all of our odd-couple conversations, Carducci had never spelled it out for me quite like this. But he was totally right. "I dunno, maybe you should go outside your type just to see. There are so many daddies out there who'd be so fucking appreciative to make it with a guy like you.... You could use the ego boost, bro."

I thought it over. "Is that what older guys are to you?" I asked. "An ego boost?"

He shook his head. "Nah. I have a pretty massive ego already, bro, I don't need help with that. I just love sex with an older guy." I watched as he pulled a spare pillow down to cover his crotch. I knew why: Carducci was boning up talking about sex, and while we shared a lot there still was the bro code between us. "Some of em have a wild side, like a drunk sorority chick."

I shook my head. "Jesus, JC."

I knew the alcohol was getting us both to open up to this conversation. "It's not like that, Peters. I mean, you know you're with a dude, a real masculine dude at that. But there's that wild, naughty streak beneath the surface. I fucking love it."

He reached over and picked up his phone.

"What? Are you gonna show me a picture of one of your conquests?" I asked.

He looked up and winked. "Perv. No, bro, I'm lining up a blowjob. There's gotta be a horny daddy staying in this hotel."

I blushed. "You serious?"

"Sure, I'm serious," he said, now not taking his eyes off the app as he scrolled through. "Jesus you can be such a fucking prude."

I lay back, feeling insulted but mostly angry that he was right. I'd set up a Grindr profile and used it some but then swore it off over the last year. "Well, you're not bringing him back here," I said.

JC now looked up. "Like I said. Cranky bitch." There was teasing sure, but I think I'd actually pissed off my buddy. I almost apologized but I was stubborn.

Anyway, he was now getting off the bed and putting his shoes back on.

"Already?" I asked with astonishment. JC hadn't been on that app much longer than five minutes.

He laughed. "What can I say, bro?" He smiled. "Daddy wants this..." he used his hand to gesture to his tall muscular body. "I'm in Nashville, I'm gonna have a little fucking fun." He had his phone and key card and seemed good to go. "You should too, Peters. For real."

I didn't say anything but I gave a look that was my attempt at an "I'll think about it."

And like that, I watched my best friend leave our room.

***

The lamplight was still on when I woke up. I'd conked out in my drunkenness. I was massively hungover but I always wake up pretty quickly. Light was coming in and the clock said a little after 8.

Carducci's bed was still made and still empty. The fucker.

I got up and pissed and popped a couple of aspirin, hoping they'd help. My head pounded. And we still had another night of this fucking bachelor party weekend. I wondered if these dudes would want to come to mine when the time came. Hell, I wondered if I'd have one.

I brushed my teeth to get the stale beer taste out of my mouth. My hair was mussed up and I did my best to comb it down.

Fifteen minutes later, after a trip to the lobby to get some coffee, I was feeling more alive. Hungover still, but better. I didn't feel like eating anything, but the aspirin was helping.

I picked up my phone. I'd uninstalled Grindr but it was easy enough to re-install it. It took me a second to remember my login, but I used one of my common passwords. One of these days, I'd need to choose something more secure for my shit.

There were some hot guys in Nashville, but I'd gotten spoiled by the city I lived in now. There was a certain type I was seeing here - either bigger, beefier guys, or else younger thinner twinks. My type was always in between that. I wanted more Dierks Bentley and was seeing a lot more Garth Brooks types, even among the 20-somethings.

I'd been replaying my conversation with JC in my head. He could bust my balls, and maybe in a way I didn't like. But I told myself, I'd give this a try. I changed my profile language to make it less picky and judgmental and adjusted my looking-for age range.

It was early and I didn't see any hits in this hotel, but there was a good looking older guy in the hotel on the next block. Kind of average looking, balding hair, 49yo, but his pics showed off a very fit body, lightly hairy, probably trimmed. Looking for now. If I had to make it with an older dude, this was probably as good a match as any. I'd focus on his body if need be.

"Hey," I typed in a chat. "You're up early."

"Hi man." Then. "This is early?"

"In Nashville it is," I replied back.

"True, ha."

I was never great with the quick hookup thing, but one thing I'd mastered was the art of messaging. Some guys were too direct, not flirty enough, but some guys were too passive and conversational. My style didn't work with everyone, but it was working now, I knew.

"What brings you here?" I asked.

"Business. I thought I'd tack on an extra day for fun. And you?"

"Bachelor party."

"Of course, ha." Then, he added. "You're quite the hunk."

"Thanks man," I typed. "You're hot, too." I wasn't sure how much I thought that. It's not that he wasn't hot, because he was in a way. But in my fucked up way, I knew he wasn't Brendan Peters-worthy hot. Not in my league. But I tried to embrace the Carducci way. "You say you bottom, right?" His profile had read vers-bottom.

"Yep. You wanting to fuck?"

After my conversation with JC, I'd initially been thinking of a blowjob. Baby steps. Something to take the edge off. But now I realized it had been WAY too long since I'd fucked a guy. "God yeah. You able to host?"

"If you can give me fifteen minutes."

I pawed my crotch now. I was getting boned good. "Make it twenty?" I wanted to shower up.

"Sounds good, man."

***

The profile had sold the guy short. He didn't look hotter than his pictures but as he ushered me in, he had a deep sexy voice. Almost gravely, with a New York accent. He had a towel wrapped around his waist and I could see how dense his muscle was on a frame that was about 6 inches shorter than mine.

"Looks like I hit the jackpot, huh?" he smiled. Then as his eyes swept up to my face, he added, "Don't worry, I'm not gonna gush. You know you're smoking hot."

OK, maybe JC was right, I could get used to the ego pump. With a grin I stepped up to the guy and wrapped my arms around his naked torso, drawing him in.

"I wasn't sure..." he started to say in his deep voice befor I cut him off with a kiss.

He was a good kisser. This was a hookup, just a hookup, and our making out wasn't romantic, but I really enjoyed this part of sex, and this man knew how to respond to my groove. His hands felt up my chest as he did his best to match my tongue work.

Maybe it had been so long since I'd had sex, but the feel of his bare skin and hard back muscle under my fingers had me rock hard. This guy wasn't my type, but he was masculine and real and he wanted me. I pulled off his towel and broke the kiss so I could reach down and paw at his thick ass. It wasn't a young bubble ass, it wasn't Kevin Murphy's kicker's ass, but this man went to the gym regularly and had for years.

"Yess.." he hissed.

I kneaded his ass for a minute longer then stepped back, in full ready to fuck mode. As I reached down and started undoing my shorts and kicking off my shoes, my trick looked at me with horny anticipation, his daddy dick hard and leaking, a solid six-incher that stood out from his trimmed but hairy crotch.

"I guess we didn't talk about specifics," he said, stepping back to the bed. "You a missionary or doggy position kind of guy?"

God, this was 180 degrees from my normal Grindr experience. I always met freaks who'd get real porny and weird, or I met guys who were bossy about their needs. This man had a fun laid-back vibe, even as we were getting to brass tacks.

Usually my answer would be missionary. "Doggy," I leered, letting my thick long cock fall out as I pushed my underwear down.

"Fuck," the daddy hissed. "You didn't exaggerate the measurements. Take it a little easy at first, then I'm good to go." I watched as he got onto the bed, on all fours. It was clearly the body of a man in his late 40s, but I was going to enjoy it all the same.

I got up on after him, letting the mattress sink with my weight. I'd hit almost 240 in college ball, and while I'd leaned down a little since then, I still was 230 pounds of tall muscle.

I remember one time I'd started eating out some model looking guy I'd hooked up with and he about freaked out, telling me he wasn't into getting rim. But as I kissed along this man's lightly furred ass cheeks, one side then the other, he spread his legs in an unmistakeable green light. I dove in and licked.

Fuck, this daddy loved it. I thought about what JC said. Masculine dudes with that drunk sorority chick worthy wild streak. He was some regular guy on business, and he was enjoying me eating him out and munching wildly at his clean pucker.

"Holy fuck, dude!" he growled, the deep voice making his words seem more sexual. "Eat my fucking hole."

I did. I wasn't even expecting an extended rim session for this. I almost thought it would be a pump and go, but I now rode the experience, gripping his cheeks, pulling them apart and tongue fucking this man who indeed was old enough to be my father.

I could have kept at it, too, but I needed to fuck. I leaned up, wiped off the spit from my chin and reached down to wet my cock.

"There's lube and condoms," he said, nodding to the night stand. "I'm on PREP so do what you want, man." Again, that deep voice had my balls twitching.

I slathered on some lube and lined up my bare prick. Daddy was gonna get raw dogged. I gave a two-mississippi pause then pushed to enter him.

There was some snugness at the ring but otherwise no real resistance. I popped in, making the man grunt a little, but he braced his upper body, took a deep breath, then nodded. I pushed my way all the way in, deep into his hot tightness. I forgot how amazing a good fuck felt. Bottoming out, I gripped his waist and began a slow pump.

"Jesus, you're a big boy," he grunted, excitement in his voice.

"6-four," I teased, now fucking him with firmer strokes.

"I meant your cock," the daddy said.

"I know," I hissed. "You're taking that big dick."

"Christ, man," he replied. "Fuck me! Fuck me big guy!"

I did. Getting more and more into it. I was enjoying this position of holding his waist and using that leverage to pull his leaner muscular build onto my hard pistoning cock as much as I was pushing into him. But as I got more excited and more into the mounting pleasure, I felt a need for something more animalistic. Leaning forward, I covered his back with my muscular chest and torso and just started hammering him with hard short strokes.

"Oh fuck oh fuck," he hissed. Loving it, but feeling the challenge of taking me that way, given my strength.

It wouldn't take long though. I now supported my weight with one arm while the other one wrapped around him, pulling his hard body next to mine for maximum contact and steady penetration.

He too was braced on one hand now while the jerked off to my inward strokes.

He came a second before me, but it was a photo finish. I let out a deep heavy growl and enjoyed the most amazing orgasm I'd had in a LONG time.

He finally withdrew his hand and let my weight push him down into a flat lying position.

"Am I too heavy?" I asked as I kissed his neck softly. I didn't want to pull out just yet, the aftershocks felt pretty amazing.

"I'm good," came that deep voice. "I like it, actually."

I kissed him more, along his neck. It's a weird thing of mine. Some guys lose interest after getting their nut, but I get in a real romantic headspace after cumming. It's freaked some men out.

Daddy picked up on it. "I thought you'd be a fuck and go kind of guy," he said with a soft laugh.

"Sorry," I said, pushing myself up off him some.

"Don't apologize, it's nice."

I ran my hand along the man's arm. Strong, not as big as mine, but there's something about an older man that meant more seasoned muscle. "I know this is just a hookup," I said. "I just like talking with a guy I have sex with. I'm weird, I guess."

He got quiet, but his reply felt calm and measured. "We can grab brunch if you like. I can learn more about the guy who just gave me the fuck of my life."

"Yeah," I said.

Now as we uncoupled and rinsed off in the bathroom before getting dressed again, I was having second doubts, and maybe I was leading him on too much. I absolutely didn't want anything serious with this guy. After today, I'd probably half forget him. This was just my hormones talking.

He seemed to read me. "You OK, man?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

He gave me an empathetic look. "Don't worry, I know I'm just a piece of tail to you. But I'm starving... why don't we get a bite and then you can get back to your bachelor party duties?"

I smiled. "Sounds good," I said. I stepped up and kissed him, softly. Wrapping my arms around his waist and enjoying the height difference.

"My name's Curt," he said.

"Brendan," I said.

#drakestories

232 notes · View notes

1d1195 · 9 months ago

Text

My Friend's Toyota II

Read Part I here: My Friend's Toyota

~7.9k words

Warnings: a bit more angsty this time around.

She nodded feeling a little worried about the conversation she was waffling on thinking about it more. The kind of girls that flirted with Harry didn’t look like her. They were loud and boisterous. Fun and exciting. They probably didn’t get enjoyment out of perfectly stacking the dishwasher or the smell of laundry on Sundays while watching TV.

Told me that she’s never been in love before / Darling, I can treat you right, take you to the shore / Every time you cross my mind, I just want you more / Sitting in the grass looking at the tower / Thinking ‘bout her eyes every single hour / She’s my wildflower

She brought water and pain pills into Allie’s room and plopped on the bed beside her. “Good morning, sunshine!” She chirped.

“I hate you,” she hissed from beneath the blanket.

Giggling, she laid beside her hungover form and smiled at the ceiling. It felt like her organs were made of liquid. They were all warm. Like her heart had sent too much blood to each of them. Her face felt warm. He wasn’t even around and just the mere thought of Harry had her feeling downright giggly. It had never felt like this before about a guy. Not when she pined over the guy in her high school biology class. In her sixteen-year-old rom-com ridden mind, that guy was the love of her life. They were going to live happily ever after. One day he was going to notice her, not just as his lab partner but as someone he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. It was foolish to think. Not the guy she dated briefly when she was seventeen. But she tried not to think about him too much.

Sixteen and seventeen was so young. Twenty-one was still young but she felt more confident about Harry making the giddy feeling flood over her as she laid beside a headache-ridden Allie.

“Did you sleep in Niall’s bed?” Allie asked.

Her cheeks flushed hotly. She shook her head, glad that Allie was hiding beneath the covers. “No, of course not.”

“I don’t think anyone would blame you. That wouldn’t even be the worst place Harry’s taken a girl to bed,” Allie murmured. Allie’s hungover, she reminded herself. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Speaking before she had time to process what she was saying. Worrying about something she had no control over.

She didn’t want to think too much about the rumors that swirled around Harry. After last night, if anyone saw her go into a bedroom with Harry, she was certain the rumors wouldn’t just be about him anymore. “I think I have to ask him about the rumors,” she whispered.

“Yeah? That’s good, honestly. It’ll probably make you feel better. You’re already on his side,” Allie was gentle. Even though her head was screaming, and she probably still didn’t trust Harry the way she did implicitly. But his previous relationships, they were none of her business. As long as he was kind to her, she had no reason to believe he would break her heart.

“What’s on the docket for today?” Allie asked sitting up and taking the medicine and water from her.

“Nothing,” she shrugged. “I was going to work on my online class, do some chores.”

“Well, I need hangover food, so put it off. We’re going to breakfast,” she said getting out of bed and pulling her hair into a twist and out of her face. She giggled in response.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

She was right about the rumors. As Allie devoured her bacon-y potato cure, she could hear the next booth over talking in low whispers about how Harry brought another girl into Niall’s bedroom. “They were in there for two hours.”

“Lucky girl.”

“Lucky Harry,” a guy muttered to them. “Did you see her? She’s hot.” She was glad the booth wall that separated them was high enough to keep her hidden. Allie seemed to be too focused on her breakfast to notice the others chatting about her one table over.

“That’s a new record for him. He hooked up with like five girls over the summer.”

That was the kind of rumor that made her stomach churn. “She’s nerdy and so not Harry’s type. I have a class with her, and she sits in the front. I give it two weeks now.”

“So why does he keep hanging out with her?”

She pushed her plate of French toast aside and tried to tune them out. She looked at Allie, head resting on the table beside her plate of food. “It’s so good,” she moaned.

Laughing, she shook her head. “No one forced you to drink that much,” she reminded her.

Allie smiled. “No one needs to.”

She knew she was being quiet. “Y’okay, love?” Harry asked as they walked to math class. She nodded, still silent. Harry didn’t press her, which she was grateful for; it seemed hard to believe he was planning this long extravagant plan to impress her long enough to sleep with her or something. The rumors continued to swarm from the weekend. She wondered if Harry heard them or if people were smart enough to not to talk about him in front of him.

But all the rumors were about how she wasn’t good enough. How Harry was wasting his time. It felt true. She probably wasn’t like the other girls Harry dated. The October breeze chilled her cheeks and she nuzzled into the collar of her jacket briefly to avoid the breeze. “Do you have plans tonight?” Harry asked.

Nothing besides studying and homework. But she didn’t want to sound unbelievably lame. “No,” she cleared her throat.

“Would y’want t’hang out?” He asked.

“Hang out?” She repeated.

He smiled. “Yeah... we can order pizza and study. Or watch a movie. Jus’ hang out,” he repeated. Her heart fluttered at how sweet it sounded. How innocent. She really needed to tell him about her worries.

Be careful with your heart. Allie’s voice was loud in her head. She loved her best friend, but kind of wanted to shove her for getting into her head like that. She was blissfully unaware of Harry’s reputation until Allie brought it up. Now it was tainting her walk. Ruining the nice late-night chat she had with him in Niall’s bedroom. If she ever ran into Niall, she would have to remember to thank him.

“Mitch works on Tuesdays and then stays at his girlfriend’s place so...I know y’don’t have class tomorrow. Y’could stay if y’want t’stay the night.”

Her heart felt uneasy, and she didn’t know how to answer without sounding like an idiot. “Um...”

“You don’t have to,” he said quickly. “Jus’ thought I’d offer. I’ll take y’home any time y’want,” he promised.

Biting her lip, they entered the Sawyer building, and she paused right by the door ignoring the passing groups of students hurrying to and from their next class.

They stood near the ancient radiator for a building that was built in the late 1800s. It was painted over in white, about two inches thick of the chipping color. She wondered how it hadn’t melted off when the air was so chilly. While she warmed herself, Harry said hello to a friend of his and she got the gist that he was asking about the soccer game later in the week.

For whatever reason, in her mind, now was the perfect time to ogle Harry. His black jeans (they were her favorite of his) hugged the muscles of his legs like they were nearly painted on. She never cared about a guy’s legs before until she met Harry. His hair was coiffed to perfection in those lovely chocolate curls that made her want to run her hand through them herself. His jacket was lighter than hers; of course it was. It was probably a normal temperature to him and not frigid the way she thought it was. He looked so cozy she wanted to hug him. Other than gentle touches to the arm or hand, they hadn’t touched one another all that much. The ache she felt in her muscles to reach out and hug him was so strong she had to silently berate herself that she would look like a lunatic hugging in the middle of the building between college classes.

Eventually, she pulled herself from her thoughts. She found Harry smiling at her so sweetly while she thought about everything rapid fire while waiting for an answer. His friend was gone and she wondered how long she had been caught staring and nearly drooling over him while she warmed by the antiquated heating system.

“I would love to hang out, I’m not sure about staying over,” she admitted. “I have work in the morning.”

“S’fine,” he answered eagerly. “I’ll take any time I can have with you, love,” he looked at his feet and then up again, shyly through his eyelashes. Standing by the radiator was suddenly too hot. All he had to do was look at her. She would never need a heating system again.

“Do I look okay?” She asked Allie. She wasn’t trying to overdo it. She wanted to be prepared without looking insane. If she stayed over, she would have the T-shirt she needed for working at the local Starbucks. She could wear the jeans she had on currently, and no one would be the wiser. Her little bag of toiletries was shoved into the middle pocket of her backpack. The last step was to have Allie double check her outfit, hair, and makeup. That she wasn’t overdoing it for a Tuesday evening.

Allie paused from her painting wiping the back of her hand across her forehead to get the hair out of her vision. In doing so, she swiped teal paint across her skin. But it only made her look like the project herself. Her major was art, of course—she wanted to teach because it was one of the most passionate classes she took growing up.

Her teachers inspired her, and she wanted to do the same. Honestly, she already looked the part. Her outfits always consisted of bohemian skirts and the like. Her hair was a little frazzled but in an organized messy way. Allie added décor around the apartment that sparked a little flare to the selection of items she had purchased when they moved in. Her eye for color was impeccable and while she would probably have the same six prints hung on the wall, Allie was able to add something that didn’t quite fit their modern-twenty-something-year-old theme but nonetheless went perfectly. She was like a ballerina, utterly graceful. Like she floated from room to room and exuded beauty like it was her job.

Now, Allie looked her up and down. A black, long-sleeved T-shirt with the college name along the sleeve that she would wear to bed if she had to. She crammed a pair of leggings and socks alongside her bag of toiletries just in case as well. She wore a pair of Converse just in case she stayed the night and had to go to work right from Harry’s. “You look really pretty,” Allie promised with a smile. “Effortless beauty.”

She sighed with relief. “You’re sure. My hair isn’t too much?” She straightened it after a late afternoon shower. It would be easier to deal with if she did end up staying the night and didn’t shower.

“It’s very practical of you,” she assured her. “You’re not trying too hard, sweetie. I swear.”

“Okay,” she sighed again. “Is it weird I’m nervous?” She asked.

“Not at all. You really like him,” Allie reminded her. As if she could forget. “It’ll be fine though. You have nothing to worry about.”

Even though Allie was definitely her best friend, they hadn’t known each other long; there was still a long list of things she hadn’t told her yet. “I’ve...never spent the night with a guy,” she admitted.

Allie blinked. “Oh,” tilting her head curiously at her lovely friend. It seemed a little...not weird, but genuinely surprising. The girl was sweet as could be. They hadn’t delved too deeply into romantic histories, but it sounded like she had gone on enough dates back South to have stayed at a guy’s place before. “Well...it’s okay,” her tone was comforting.

Her face turned pink, and she looked at Allie as if she had all the answers. “What if I do it wrong?”

Allie smirked sadly. “Sweetie, you can’t do it wrong. Not if Harry likes you as much as he says he does. The way I saw how much he liked you. You were right,” she nodded her head firmly. “It’s different with you, trust me,” she wrapped her arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. She smiled brightly as she ushered her out the door before she could talk herself out of doing something she knew she wanted to do. “And if he does try something shady, you just text me and I will come cut his dick off.”

Harry said five and she knew it was a fifteen-minute walk to his dorm from her apartment. It seemed like everything was a fifteen-minute walk. She passed dozens of people hurrying to their late-night classes or to the nearest dining hall (it was breakfast for dinner night which was always a school favorite). The air was so brisk for her southern skin. She wished she wore a scarf. But she wasn’t too far away, and she was sure she could convince Harry to turn up the heat for a bit if needed.

The sun was lower in the sky. The blue wasn’t quite visible anymore. The clouds turned the light around the sun varying degrees of white, pink, purple, and orange. It was stunning and she took a picture on her phone for Allie in case she needed something to paint. She had already painted another photo she had taken earlier in the summer when they first met and told her anytime that she took a nice picture she would gladly paint it.

Harry told her to text her when she arrived, and he would run down to let her in. But due to students not caring about the safety protocols of the building, she made her way in easily when someone held the door behind them while exiting. Once inside she was grateful for the warmth and took a few moments to enjoy the heat and calm the nerves bubbling in her veins. Once she gained feeling back in her fingertips, she called Harry. “Hey love, are y’here? I’ll head down,” he said and she could hear the shuffle of items.

“M'actually in the lobby. If you want to tell me which floor, you’re on, I can make my way myself.”

“Oh, love. M’sorry. I hope y’didn’t wait long,” she could hear the frown in his voice. “Fourth floor. M’standing outside the elevator waiting.” she headed up to the fourth floor of the building via the elevator. She pressed the button and waited for it to descend.

“Not at all. Got right in behind someone exiting,” she promised.

“Oh good. Okay, see you in a minute.”

Taking a deep breath, she was grateful she was alone on the elevator. It was just hanging out. It wasn’t a date. There was no reason to be nervous. Harry was extremely nice to her. When the elevator door opened, her heart stopped seeing him waiting for her. “Wow, y’look beautiful,” he said in greeting looking her up and down but in a way that didn’t feel excessive. Her cheeks felt red at his assessment.

“Thank you,” she smiled. “Thanks for having me.”

“M’pleasure, love,” he tilted his head for her to follow him down the hall to his room. She could hear music coming from the other rooms and even below her. “S’not as loud inside,” he promised.

She smiled. “It’s fine.”

He tapped the number on the keypad and opened the door for her to enter before him. “S’a pretty standard suite,” he shrugged. “Mitch’s room is over there,” he pointed to the door on the right side of the room. “Help yourself to anything in the fridge or cabinets.”

“You have a balcony?” She asked, dropping her bag on the sofa in the sitting area and rushing to the slider to look at it. He smiled at her excitement. She could feel it on her back as she looked through the glass. Harry didn’t go out there much because it was pretty closed off. Each balcony was enclosed with concrete walls on each side and a sloping wooden awning over top that extended past the rail. It almost looked like a prison cell with bars extending from awning to railing from end to end. Worry that drunk college students would fall being the reason. “Can I go out there?” She asked.

He chuckled. “Course,” he reached in front of her, unlocking the handle and pulling it open.

She stepped on the little area and peered between the bars to look at the cotton candy sky. “You get to see the sunset like this every day?” She asked.

He smirked. “Yeah,” he shrugged. “When m’home, I suppose. M’usually working or out and about around sunset.”

“I would live out here,” she told him.

“S’a little cold for you, I think.”

She wrinkled her nose at him so cutely in mock distaste, the expression on Harry’s face changed minutely and he smiled a little more. “That’s what blankets are for. It’s so nice,” but an involuntary shiver ran down her body completely shaking her theory.

Harry tilted his head back toward the inside. “Let’s get y’back inside before y’freeze t’death.”

“If I was going to freeze to death, it would have been on the way here,” she told him. “I should have gloves,” she rubbed her hands together quickly in response. He was right, unfortunately. The chill on the balcony ruined the warmth she got back when she entered the lobby of his building.

“Let me get y’some tea. The pizza should be here soon, too,” he promised. “I thought y’might want t’study a bit before we watch a movie,” he admitted. “If y’don’t, we can start right on the movie.”

She shook her head. “No,” she was quite relieved. There were a few homework problems she needed to finish and dreaded the idea of staying up late tomorrow night after a long day at work but of course would gladly suffer such a thing if it meant an evening with Harry. “That would be great actually.”

“Great,” he smiled. “Make yourself at home. I’ll get the tea,” he turned to the little kitchen area.

After homework, pizza, and a movie, it was nearing ten. They sifted through their regular course of conversation throughout homework and pizza time but remained pretty silent during the movie. The tension she felt between them was thick. She wanted to snuggle up to him but instead wrapped herself snug under the blanket he gave her. The idea of walking back in the cold fifteen minutes away seemed like a terrible idea. Even if Harry went with her.

Her thoughts rolled over about a hundred times weighing her options. She wondered if she should excuse herself to the bathroom to get a pep talk from Allie but stopped herself when Harry’s laugh quietly jolted her from her thoughts. Harry had one socked foot on the coffee table, the other on the floor, one arm draped along the back of the sofa behind her, but not in a romantic sort of way. His other hand propped his head up. His foot on the table bounced back and forth lightly in an easy rhythm. He looked so at ease. Not worried about embarrassing himself in anyway.

Must have been nice. When the movie ended about twenty minutes later, she glanced at her watch as discreetly as she could. “D’you want me to walk you back?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Um... it’s pretty late... and cold. I wouldn’t want to put you out—”

“S’no trouble at all,” he promised.

Her face warmed feeling like now he wanted her to leave. “Well, if you’re sure you don’t mind. I hate to think you’d have to walk back in the cold. I did bring a change of clothes but if you need me to—”

“Oh, oh,” Harry shook his head. Dropping his foot from the coffee table to the floor and turning to her completely. His eyes looked a little wild and she was surprised he looked so at ease moments ago. “Of course. I want you t’stay, love,” he promised. “You must pack light,” he shook his head. “M’so sorry it sounded like I wanted you t’leave. I do not want that. I jus’ assumed y’didn’t bring anything t’make y’comfortable staying over,” his cheeks turned the lightest shade of pink. She could see it in the low light of the lamp he and Mitch brought instead of the fluorescent overhead light. She sighed a bit with relief. “I don’t want you t’leave at all,” he promised.

The air in her lungs felt lighter then. “Oh. Okay.”

“Really,” he inched just a hair closer to her. If she wasn’t so focused on him, she might not have noticed the minute shift in his body language moving toward her. “M’really happy you’re here,” he whispered, and she knew the moment he looked in her eyes he was going to kiss her.

He was moving closer, she wasn’t helping. Her heart was beating so hard, she was surprised he couldn’t hear it. Surprised it wasn’t louder than the thrum of the music playing from the suite below him. He kept looking at her lips. The way they parted slightly. She breathed through her nose as she waited for him to get closer.

“I’ve never slept in a guy’s bed,” she blurted. Blinking, Harry stopped his motion half an inch from her lips. She could feel his warm breath across her face. He pulled back, creating a bit of space between them. He waited patiently for follow up. Gazing at her a little bit nervously. She closed her eyes and bit her lip. She turned her face away from him. “I’m sorry. That totally ruined the moment.”

“No,” he put a hand carefully on her blanket covered knee. “Not at all, love. M’jus’ trying t’give y’some time,” he promised. “M’jus’ waiting.”

She scrunched her eyes shut tighter seeing her blood rush in imaginary shapes behind her closed lids. She still faced away from him. She wanted to blurt it out. But was so scared he would reject her. Then she would have to walk home alone in the cold and dark. “I’m sorry.”

“For what, love?” She imagined the cute little pinch of skin between his eyebrows. Like he got when he concentrated while studying.

She took a deep breath and released an exasperated sigh. Her face felt hot still and maybe a walk in the cold would help her forget this. When she started to speak, her voice shook ever so slightly, and she prayed Harry didn’t notice. “For ruining—”

He did, and it broke his heart before she could finish the sentence. “Love, will you please look at me?” He interrupted. Harry didn’t rush her. It was so slow. A whole hour could have passed in that minute it took her to turn back to him, her hair falling in front of her face still hiding her expression from him. “You didn’t ruin anything,” he promised. “M’honestly... glad y’told me; means you’re comfortable.”

She didn’t have the heart to tell him this was the least comfortable she had ever felt in his presence, but she knew what he meant. “I really want to kiss you,” she whispered.

He smiled sadly. That must be a good sign for him, she thought. Despite the pause. But Harry must have also sensed there was more. “...but?”

She was quiet, bit her lip, and covered her eyes with her hand. “I’ve never been in love before,” she told him, the shake of her voice unmistakable. That must have really surprised him because he was silent. She didn’t dare look. There was still more. “And I’ve never—”

“Love, stop,” he said quickly. She was wrong. He wanted her to leave. This was so embarrassing. There were tears stinging the back of her eyes, but she still didn’t look—couldn’t look. Gently, he pulled her hand from her face holding it in his lap. He cupped his face with his freehand. “I jus’ want t’kiss you,” he whispered rubbing his thumb so softly against her cheek. It felt like the equivalent of his whispered voice. “Nothing more,” he promised. “Can jus’ be one kiss, even,” he suggested. “Nothing else,” he repeated.

She looked at those brilliant green eyes for so long she swore another hour passed in that minute. The shake of her voice disappeared. The stinging behind her eyes stopped. Her heart felt achy, and she leaned the final empty inches between them and granted his wish.

It was not one kiss. One kiss turned into another and then another and then she wasn’t sure she could keep count even if she wanted to. Harry’s hand cupped the side of her face the entire time. His fingers sliding between her hair right behind her ear and tugging her close. It had to have been hours by the time Harry pulled away, resting his forehead against hers. His breathing heavy across her cheeks as he pressed a kiss on her cheek, then pulled away to kiss her forehead. He tucked her head beneath his chin and pulled her toward him. It was quiet, aside from the music below them and their slightly ragged breathing. “Thank you,” he whispered.

She giggled slightly shaking her head against his chest. She was clinging to his short shirt sleeves with both hands, like he was a life raft. Granted, he did make her feel like she was drowning with kisses only moments before. They were quiet for a while, just basking in the warmth of each other. Every so often, Harry kissed the top of her head. His hand moved up and down her spine soothingly.

“Are you tired?” He asked. She shook her head. “Are you alright, kitten?” He asked nervously.

She nodded. “I’m good,” she sighed. “Promise.”

He sighed with relief. “Good,” he murmured in her hair. “’Ve wanted t’do that since I met you,” he admitted.

She smiled against his throat. “Yeah?”

“Very much so,” he mumbled.

“Can I ask you something?” She asked pulling back from him. It seemed colder than the air outside being so far away from him. It was almost harmful to her health.

He nodded. “’Course.”

“Have you heard the rumors about me?” She wondered.

He blinked. “No,” he frowned. “M’sorry. What rumor—”

She blushed. “Um... just that I’m not your type. I’m nerdy. Not...gonna be around long,” she turned away briefly. “I don’t expect you to propose or anything just for kissing me, Harry. I’m not insane. But I’m looking for a relationship,” she sounded way stronger than she felt. Looked him square in the eye as she said the next part. “But I don’t want to date lots of guys for weeks and not have it go anywhere or do anything. I want to have someone to depend on when I feel stressed, someone to sit with me while I do homework, go out to eat with or watch movies and—”

He smiled and chuckled softly as she spoke. Her heart felt so fragile and exposed and his laughter momentarily made her feel ridiculous. But after just a few seconds of his low chuckle, eventually, he sighed with relief. “Kitten, I’ve been waiting a very long time for you,” he whispered, cupping her perfect, gorgeous face, and kissed her again.

“Is it everything you expected?” He whispered. She snorted in the dark and Harry chuckled. Her body was warm and pressed close to his, spooned against his chest. She smelled like the raspberry chapstick she put on right before they climbed into his bed. He squeezed her, kissed her temple. His heart nearly broke listening to her worry about sleeping in the same bed as him. He knew there was more. More she was embarrassed about she couldn’t get it out in one full sentence. None of that mattered to him. Not even a little. “Can we talk?” He asked. She nodded silently against him. “You’ve never been in love?” He wondered.

She shook her head. “I think I’ve made it... too big of a thing in my head,” she admitted. “Too many rom-coms, fairy tales, and books I read as a teenager,” she explained. “It’s silly,” she whispered.

“I don’t think it’s silly,” he kissed the back of her head. “S’really nice.”

“My parents met on this campus,” she explained. “They love each other like...” she shook her head, his lips basically rubbing against her forehead with her motion. “I’m a lucky girl to witness that kind of love. To have grown up around that love while I lived at home.”

“S’that why y’transferred here?”

She shrugged. “It worked for them.”

“Love, m’not trying t’pry or say s’weird. Or make y’uncomfortable in anyway. But... m’shocked y’haven’t been in love. You’re stunning,” he punctuated the thought with another kiss to the back of her head. “Sweet, intelligent, jus’ so lovely. S’a miracle for me y’don’t have a line of admirers.”

She turned around in his arms to face him. She was eye level with him. Their heads sharing a pillow on the extremely small twin mattress. Her nose bumped his and he smelled her raspberry chapstick even stronger. “When I was in high school,” she whispered. “I thought I was in love. I thought we were in love. He carried my backpack with my insanely heavy AP History textbook, he brought me coffee to school, and drove me home from soccer practice,” her voice was even. Not a hint of sadness yet Harry felt this rush of sadness all through him.

“Y’don’t have t’tell me, kitten.”

She glanced up at him, even though it was dark, the light thrown from the moon, made it bright enough that he could make out the whites of her eyes. “I want to,” she admitted. Her regular confidence seemed to be shaken during their almost kiss. The thought of making her uncomfortable, especially after feeling like she ruined their first kiss was his worst nightmare. But conviction seemed to resurface as she began her story. Harry wasn’t sure he’d be able to stand where he thought it was going, but if she wanted to share, he would listen to every word.

He nodded. “M’listening,” he promised.

“We were having our first study date at his place,” she continued. “It was for our English literature class. We had to create a PowerPoint about a book we read. Highlighting all the symbolism and allegory. The history and whatnot,” it wasn’t relevant as to what they were studying. It wasn’t the point. She was stalling. Harry knew it. But he let her continue. “He invited me over because his parents weren’t home. His siblings were out. It was just us.” Harry was terrified he knew where it was going and even though she was perfectly whole in front of him, he felt so much anger coursing through him he worried he might hold her too tight. He held his breath waiting for the shoe to drop. “I thought he would just want to make out or something,” she whispered. “I’m pretty certain I was in love with a guy in my biology class the year before, so I knew I didn’t love him so maybe it’s my own fault for going to his house. Knowing what a guy like him—”

“It’s not your fault,” Harry interrupted. His voice was flat. He didn’t want her to continue. But he had to know. Needed to know. Because very honestly, Harry was going to kill him for hurting her.

She swallowed loud enough for Harry to hear, and she took a deep breath. “I told him I didn’t want to have sex,” she whispered very softly. “He said I was a waste of his time. All this time he could have been with,” she shook her head. “Three, four other girls. Not wasting months on someone that didn’t want to sleep with him,” she pressed her forehead against the top of his chest. “I felt so stupid,” her voice was so thin it was hard for Harry to hear her. He cupped the back of her neck and kissed her forehead. He hoped it was encouraging. So she would keep talking if she wanted. “I thought he liked me. I thought that maybe I wouldn’t get that earth stopping love my parents had, but maybe I would find a guy and we would grow to love each other like that. I know in hindsight that’s stupid to think at seventeen, but it was the only thing that made sense at the time.” Harry remained silent. “I walked home,” she whispered. “My mom just knew. She asked me a thousand questions if he hurt me. I told her he didn’t, but I think part of her still believes that I lied to her—”

“Y’did, kitten. He did hurt you.”

“He didn’t—”

“Love he broke your heart and your trust. He hurt you,” he said simply. “He’s an ass. An idiot. He should be in jail just for breaking your heart,” he promised. It felt so unbelievable that she had never been in love. He wanted to know more about the guy from her biology class, but he couldn't believe that someone so perfect to him hadn't been in love. “S’no wonder y’mum kept asking. Y’mum knows he hurt you. Y’jus’ pretended he didn’t so y’could protect your heart, love,” he explained. She was silent for a minute. Harry could feel her foot impatiently shifting between the covers, near the bottom of his legs and he continued waiting while she processed this information. “Have y’ever told anyone ‘bout this?” He asked quietly.

She shook her head. “It wasn’t...a huge deal,” she shrugged.

He was silent for another long moment, trying to control his anger. If he had his address, Harry was certain he would do something drastic “M’sorry y’feel like y’have t’minimize your feelings. You shouldn’t do that. Please don’t do that around me,” he murmured.

“Harry,” she sighed and pressed her forehead against his. “Where did you come from?” She asked. “Guys in college don’t... You can’t possibly be real.”

He smirked sadly. “I told you, I’ve been waiting a really long time for you,” he kissed her forehead, her eyelids, the bridge of her nose, and her cheeks.

“Harry,” she said softly.

“Yes, kitten?” he was so happy to have her so close to him. None of his daydreams during their walks or math lectures compared at all.

“It’s not going to bother you if—”

“M’sorry t’interrupt, love. But, don’t bother finishing that question. M’gonna take care of your heart. That’s it,” he promised and gave her another gentle squeeze. “Go t’sleep,” he murmured.

For a while it was so quiet, it barely sounded like she was breathing. “Thank you,” her voice was so soft he hardly heard her. As he drifted off with surely the love his life in his arms, part of him thought she wasn’t speaking to him at all.

In the morning, her alarm went off pulling Harry from his dream state. Surely having her in his arms was still a dream, though. He yawned, stretching, and turning to her as she looked nervously. “Sorry, I didn’t know it would be that loud.”

He smiled. “S’okay. Can I make y’breakfast before you go?”

“Oh, no thank you. I’m good.”

“Jus’ lemme get dressed and I’ll drive you.”

“That’s unnecessary,” she promised.

He smiled and kissed her forehead. “S’too bad,” he shrugged, rolled out of bed and headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth. When he returned, she passed him to get dressed in the bathroom and Harry quickly stripped himself of his pants so if she was finished in the bathroom shortly, he wouldn’t embarrass her by being naked from the waist down.

She did catch him with his shirt off, making her cheeks turn the lightest shade of red. Harry smirked tugging his shirt over his head. “Sorry,” she murmured and grabbed her bag to shove her clothes inside it. “Er...I was thinking, by the time I get out, it will be colder...and I don’t have the right coat to walk home. Could you drop me off at my car?” She asked.

Harry tilted his head at her. “I’ll jus’ pick y’up, kitten,” he could see her mulling this over in her head. There was a bit of worry in her eye. Fear of putting Harry out, he was sure. “Love,” he smiled sweetly. “M’picking y’up,” he promised. “More time t’spend with you.”

“You are...” she smiled shaking her head. “Something else, Harry Styles.”

Hey, kitten. Missing you. Hope you’re having a good day xx

Hi! I’m good. Busy with work and studying. Hope your day is good too!

It’s pretty good. Heading to the mechanic. Cars are the worst 😔 Work later. Wish I could see you 😭

At least there’s no class tomorrow

I’d rather have class just to see you xx

That’s really sweet 🥰 Maybe we should meet up during class time anyway?

You’re a genius, love 😘 absolutely. I’ll meet you after your class.

Sounds perfect!

Harry felt shameful. It was a bad week and Thursday was supposed to be a good day after all since they agreed to meet up despite not having class. Well... it was bad aside from math class and studying. Two things he never thought he would say out loud or even think in the privacy of his own thoughts. It was also good because she said yes to a date—a real date.

After their night together over a week ago and a busy schedule on both parts, this was supposed to be their first official date the coming Saturday. He had it all planned out. A fancy restaurant that he made a reservation for in the city. They would take the train in to save them the nightmare of parking. He asked her on Tuesday after class and he didn’t think he would ever forget her beautiful smile when she said yes. It felt like he won the lottery.

But Harry’s car had other plans. He took it in for a routine oil change the night before. During breakfast, he got the call. He needed new tires and new brakes. He knew about the brakes, but he thought he could wait until spring to get new tires—just get through the winter. The mechanic was insistent.

He felt awful as he walked with her on Thursday to study in the library. She was bubbly with excitement for the last week. About him. It was too good to be true. Of course, something had to go wrong. He felt terrible that he was going to have to cancel. “Hey, love?” He asked.

She was rambling about something. Harry wished he had tuned in more to know what and felt bad seeing her excitement waver. “Yeah?”

“Uh...” he sighed and gestured to the bench along the sidewalk. “I have t’ask y’to reschedule our date,” he looked so miserable. Her heart felt so sad seeing how upset he was.

“Oh,” she frowned. The excitement in her eyes was officially dead. Harry felt horrible. “Yeah... of course! Of course, we can. Is... are you okay?”

“I jus’ feel so awful,” he mumbled. “Asking t’reschedule.”

“Oh,” she felt her face wrinkle in confusion. She placed a hand on his bouncing knee trying to help the anxiety he felt. “That’s... that’s okay. Is everything alright? Like, is your family okay or is it a doctor’s appointment?”

Harry thought he was going to cry. “Uh... s’a little embarrassing,” he admitted rubbing his hand on the back of his head. He couldn’t look at her.

“More or less than me getting lost on my first day of class as a twenty-one-year-old?”

He smirked. “S’nothing,” he promised.

“I... I hate to ask this because it makes me sound so insecure... but is it something I did? Or did someone say something about me and now you don’t like me—”

“Jesus,” he shook his head and pulled her toward him quick. He kissed the top of her head, his arm draping around her shoulders. If there was any question of them being an item, Harry certainly squashed them all in front of everyone walking by. Being broke wasn’t as awful as listening to her feelings of inadequacy. “No, no,” he sighed heavily. “God, no, kitten. S’nothing you did. You’re... you’re perfect,” he gazed down to meet her gaze. “M’so embarrassed... I had a pretty expensive car repair t’take care of... so m’over m’budget for the month. I didn’t know at the time—”

“Oh,” she blinked and shook her head. “Oh... that’s okay. We don’t have to go to that restaurant,” she shrugged. “I mean... if you don’t want to go out, of course. But... I don’t need a fancy restaurant.”

His heart jumped to his throat. “Really?” He sighed with relief. “Kitten, I don’t want t’wait any longer t’take you on a proper date... would you want to have a picnic or something? I know that’s lame. S’not a proper date because y’deserve so much more but...m’not making sense, I know—m’jus’ really overwhelmed and—”

She put a gloved hand on the side of his face and smiled. Harry thought that he would see her eyes in every one of his dreams. In his head. Every time he closed his eyes. “I would love a proper picnic date,” Harry swore her smile was made of stardust. Or maybe snowflakes. “Will it be too cold though? We could have an indoor picnic.”

“I’ll make sure you’re warm,” he promised.

She picked Harry up and drove them to where he said. He filled her car with a whole bunch of supplies, food, and drinks. He told her to dress warm and she looked like she was ready to hike. Boots, warm thick socks, a big sweatshirt. She looked so cozy and warm. Once they got to the little place Harry had found when he first made it to college, he requested she wait in the car while he set everything up. “Don’t look, yeah?” He smiled.

She nodded and made herself busy looking at her phone. But after the third trip to the car, Harry could tell she felt bad. “Are you sure you don’t need help?”

“Stay put,” he insisted. After a few more minutes, Harry was at her car door. He was grinning like an idiot as he opened her door. “After you, kitten.”

There was a massive blanket laid on the grass. Along the edges there were little twinkling lights that he hoped made it feel like something out of a movie. Harry’s heart was thudding in his chest. A cooler with drinks and another with food was on one corner of the blanket. Finally, a tiny, portable space heater from camping with Mitch was directed at the blanket. She giggled. “Harry,” she sighed. “This is better than a fancy restaurant," he shook his head with a smirk.

“You’re still getting a fancy dinner, but I couldn’t wait any longer.”

She bit her lip and laid across the blanket gazing up. “This place is so pretty,” she whispered. “Look how nice the sky looks.”

It was getting chillier by the minute with the sun getting lower in the sky. Harry hoped to stay an hour or two but with the slight breeze he worried she would freeze. But the way she laid across the blanket made her look like a goddess. She belonged to nature. He knelt on the blanket beside her and grabbed the food he had planned. She rolled onto her stomach and then to a half-kneeling, half-sitting position. Harry brought sandwiches delighted by her request that her favorite sandwich was peanut butter and strawberry jam. They ate quietly for a bit and Harry poured cans of the sparkling wines he had in his fridge (he thought they might be Sarah’s, but he wanted something classier than beer or seltzers for their first real date).

The sky was pink and purple again after they finished their sandwiches and two glasses of sparkling wine. Harry baked cookies before she came to get him. They nibbled on those while chatting but mostly he just enjoyed her company and how happy she was to just be there with him. It seemed like she really didn’t need a fancy restaurant—even if he thought she deserved it more than all the rest.

When they finished snacking, Harry put the coolers back in the car and laid beside her gazing up at the sky. He pulled the corner of the huge blanket up over her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “I could lay here forever,” he murmured.

“Me too,” she nuzzled herself closer to his warm jacket. He kissed the top of her head.

“M’sorry this is the lamest first date,” he grumbled still feeling the bits of inadequacy of what he wanted to give her because she deserved the best and not a single thing less.

“No way,” she shook her head. “This is so nice, Harry. I’m warm and cozy. I’m not worried about my dress looking right or spilling something on it. I don’t have to worry about which fork to use. There’s no one around to interrupt or stare at us...” she sighed. “It’s literally the best first date,” she promised.

“Stare at us?” He repeated.

“Surely you see everyone eyeing us every time we walk to class.”

He frowned. “I didn’t know,” he mumbled.

She tilted her head to meet his gaze. She looked genuinely surprised. “Hmm,” she hummed. “I’m not used to people staring at me,” she smiled teasingly. “You probably just tune it all out.”

He chuckled, rolling his eyes at her as he flicked her gently on the side of the head. “I only care when you’re staring,” he brushed his finger across her cheek. “S’like the only thing that matters now.”

“This is crazy, isn’t it?” She whispered.

“What?”

“Falling so hard?”

“Didn’t know y’were falling so hard,” he chuckled. She smacked his chest.

“Shut up,” she tucked her face into his side. He cupped the side of her face.

“I fell so hard, love,” he promised. “Fell so. Very. Hard.”

Harry thought about getting her back soon. It was getting colder by the second. But the sky was this multitude of sunset colors that made him never want to leave. He only wanted to exist right beside her in this little meadow of peacefulness and never let go of her.

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach @straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals @angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams @summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland @lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles @tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

my friend's toyota taglist: @daphnesutton @storyschanging @vamprry @lovingfurypanda @inkedskin

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

#harry #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction writing #my friend's toyota

221 notes · View notes