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anomalyaly · 2 months ago

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right where you left me

Summary: You died. Sebastian secretly had a portrait of you commissioned.

I profusely apologize for the pain.

Inspired by @sychenb for the prompt idea. Also crediting @sloanesallow for her headcanon about Sebastian keeping track of numbers.

(also sort of inspired by Unus Annus - iykyk - and Taylor Swift, if you couldn't guess by the title)

Tags: Angst, F!Reader POV (you), unreliable narrator, vague ship (Sebastian x reader/Ominis x reader), Sebastian was in love with you but never confessed, death, grief, ambiguous ending, overall the sads in general, I cried while writing this

AO3/Wattpad

It had been 279 days since you died.

At least, that’s what Sebastian tells you — your portrait, anyway. It was all that was left of you after the devastating battle you had fought and never walked away from. You hadn’t even known he’d had a portrait of you commissioned when you were alive until you woke up, your body cold, your face illuminated by the flickering candles of the Undercroft.

He comes to visit you every day — some days, he simply sits in front of you, cross-legged and silent. You creep into the frame and study him, the shadows on his face, a haunted look in his eye — unfamiliar. You can only recall a bright, talkative, charming boy with whom you were once close. You didn’t recognize him the first time he visited you, yet his presence brings you comfort.

On other days, you see traces of the boy he was before. He bursts in through the gate talking nonstop about everyone who misses you, about something he saw that you would have liked or that reminded him of you. Sometimes, he even brings you gifts and places them in front of your frame so you can admire them when he’s away.

That’s where he keeps you — hidden behind a wooden crate in the Undercroft like a sacred shrine, untouched by anyone but him. He only speaks with you when he is alone.

Another boy comes in on occasion, and you only know because of the sound of his voice and the pulsing red light of his wand that you can see from behind the pile of crates. Ominis, you remember Sebastian telling you, another friend from when you were alive. Sometimes they argue, other times they refuse to acknowledge each other. But Sebastian always keeps you tucked away, his own personal secret.

“It’s almost Christmas,” he sighs as he plops down in front of you. “300 days since you…well, since— ”

He could never bring himself to finish that sentence, even after almost a year. You never finish it for him.

“Are you going back to Feldcroft?” you ask, though you already know the answer.

He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t leave you here alone. I couldn’t do that to you.”

You knew he probably hadn’t been back since that dreadful day. He had only spoken of it once to refresh your memory. He never brought it up again.

“Sebastian,” you say, and he perks up at the sound of his name leaving your painted lips, “how come you always hide me away when Ominis comes in? Doesn’t he want to talk to me, too?”

His eyes flash with something — anger, perhaps, it was hard to tell from your two-dimensional world — and he stands, approaching your portrait. “He wouldn’t understand.”

“I’m only a portrait,” you tease, trying to lighten the mood. “It’s not like you’ve been practicing necromancy.”

It wasn’t the right thing to say, but you don’t completely understand why. He turns away from you, fists clenched, shoulders tense and hunched over, before running his fingers through his hair and repeating himself more adamantly. “He wouldn’t understand.”

You remember him uttering a similar statement throughout your short life at Hogwarts — secrets that only the two of you shared, unbeknownst to Ominis until it was too late. “Surely he misses me, too— ”

“Did you love him?”

The question takes you by surprise, though you think it’s not the first time he’s asked it. “What?”

Sebastian whirls to face you, his gaze intense, demanding. “Did you love��him? Or did you love me?”

Your portrait blinks, confused. Truthfully, you hadn’t been alive nearly long enough to confirm your feelings for either of them, but you knew that both boys had been important to you during your last few months of life. The portrait of you had only been a time capsule of your fifteen-year-old self — undecided and immature. You’re not even certain if the emotions you feel now are real or remnants of what you experienced when you were alive. “I…I cared deeply for both of you if that’s what you’re asking.”

Your answer nearly breaks him, as if he’s heard it a million times before. He tugs at his hair, the movement causing him to look frenzied and mad. “That’s not what I asked! Who did you — ”

“Sebastian?”

The voice of the intruder causes both of you to freeze. Sebastian pulls himself out from behind the crate and holds a finger to his lips before pushing it in front of you once more.

“Over here, Ominis.”

You hear footsteps and see the red glow of the other boy’s wand, then shuffling as Sebastian strategically places himself in front of the wooden box. The echoing footsteps grow closer, and you straighten at Ominis’s frantic tone as he speaks.

“Who were you talking to?” he asks. “I…I thought I heard…her.”

“No one else is here but me,” Sebastian says, guarded.

You can practically feel Ominis’s internal struggle to believe him. You decide that there have been enough secrets between the three of you — you’re not going to let it carry on post-mortem.

“Ominis? Is that you?” you call out. You hear Sebastian press his body against the crate in front of you. Ominis pushes past him, and they both tumble into it, knocking it over and exposing your portrait.

Chaos ensues at Ominis’s realization. The two boys are shouting at each other in front of you as you are helpless to stop them — Ominis, for having yet another secret kept from him, and Sebastian, for defending his reasonings. You aren’t sure if it’s because of jealousy, grief, or some combination of the two, but all you want is for the noise to stop.

You call out helplessly from your portrait, wishing you could step between them, just as you had done time and time again all those months ago. Before everything had gone so wrong.

Suddenly, hot, angry tears are pouring down both of their faces, and you are overcome with just how useless you are at this moment — a fragmented memory, trapped within the confines of your magical canvas. You want nothing more than to hug each of them, to let them feel your arms around them in comfort and take their pain away.

But you are gone.

The two boys now stand solemn and silent in front of you. Ominis takes a step closer, his wand hovering over your portrait before he runs his fingers along the gilded frame. “Is it…really you?”

“No.” You can hear the flatness in Sebastian’s voice, how tired and worn he truly is. He repeats exactly what you thought only moments before as if to confirm it. “She hardly remembers what happened, or even who we are. She’s just a fragment. A memory.”

You want to argue that it is you, but you know that he’s right. You barely remembered your living self until Sebastian explained everything to you on his daily visits. Whispers of your personality still shine through on occasion, but you are otherwise simply existing.

Ominis sighs, and you can hear the weight behind it, as if he had been holding his breath and finally allowed himself to release it. He traces his fingers along the divots of the frame once more, and you try to will yourself to feel it.

The two boys exchange an unspoken conversation that thickens the tension in the air. They seem to come to an agreement, and you let out a small breath — if you can call it that — of relief when they sit down in front of you and appear to bask in your presence. You stay quiet and allow them this moment — it’s the only thing you can do.

The days that follow are the same. No longer is Sebastian coming in alone for covert meetings with your portrait. Now, you see both Sebastian and Ominis at the same time every single day, a religious appointment that they’ve set aside just for you. They take turns talking to you, even if they can only manage a few words, and you learn to appreciate their company, knowing that you were loved by both of them in life.

Just like old times, Sebastian says, and the three of you laugh.

Christmas approaches quickly, or that’s what they say when they come to visit a short while later. They bring your favorite things from when you were alive — chocolate frogs, flowers, even books, which Sebastian reads to you — and they tell you stories about you and the kind of person they knew you to be. You wonder if it’s true, or if they have created an idealistic image of you since you are no longer there with them. Not really.

Kind, they say that you were, thoughtful, loving, self-sacrificial, and maybe a bit idealistic. You were friends with both of them, after all, the mischievous pair that they were, before everything was taken away from them, before life was unfair. They try to smile for you and remind you that Christmas at the castle is a time for celebration, but you can tell that it’s a weak facade.

You smile back at them anyway.

The anniversary of your death approaches. Neither of them can bring themselves to say anything, aside from a few words to honor you. So the three of you sit in tearful silence, admiring the flowers that they decorated your portrait with. You think you can almost smell the sweet aroma of the bouquets.

Something changes in the air — you can sense it — though you aren’t sure what. You notice it when their visits become shorter, with fewer stories to tell, and fewer presents left in front of your frame. Sebastian and Ominis start showing up at separate times, stopping in for a brief hello before leaving with an excuse. You start to wonder what they are doing when they are gone, but you are unable to leave your frame — only one portrait of you was ever commissioned.

Soon, they start missing days, returning at a later time with profuse apologies about how life was busy, but they still miss you. Difficult classes, detention, studying for NEWTs, and preparing for a career — all of these seem to take precedence over you. But they still manage to make time in all of the hectic day-to-day activities, and you look forward to the days when they do come.

You wake up one morning and realize you are in a different location — Feldcroft, most likely, though you hadn’t seen it since that fateful day. Sebastian hangs your frame up on the wall, promising that he and Ominis will come to visit you more often now that they have graduated.

They don’t.

The length of time in between seeing them grows longer, you’re certain of it. Each time one of them arrives, they look a little bit different — sometimes they have longer hair, other times a bit of scruff around their chins, but they always come in looking more weathered than they had when you last saw them.

You realize that they are doing something that you will never again be able to join them in — growing older. You start to wonder about their lives outside of you, yet your painted mind cannot comprehend what an adult life looks like, forever frozen in your adolescent state. You find that you are unable to relate to any of their stories, and they seem to be holding back in what they choose to share.

I wish you were still here, they always say before they go, and you start to wonder if they mean it.

At long last, the visits from your once two closest friends become scarce, and you aren’t certain how much time has passed since someone last spoke to you. The bright flowers that once decorated your golden frame wither and die, and the little gifts they used to leave stay untouched and unopened. The tiny cottage in Feldcroft becomes a sepulcher of your essence — a permanent reminder that you are no longer among the living.

You can’t help but wonder if it was something you did, if their reasons for not returning were your fault. You can feel the stories that they used to tell you fading away, unable to retain the memories in your current form.

You decide that it’s time to rest.

In the quiet house, just south of Hogwarts, your portrait closes its eyes. You do not wake again.

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy mc #sebastian sallow x reader #ominis gaunt x reader #angst #hl fanfic #hl angst #hogwarts legacy angst fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy oneshot #reader pov

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killerpancakeburger · 7 months ago

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KNIGHT IN SHINING KHAKI

Gif by @bastardcompany

SUMMARY: You've angered the wrong officer. You think you're a goner when Johnny sweeps in to save the day.

PAIRING: Soap x f!Reader ("her" is used to refer to reader once, that's it) (+ Reader's hair is long enough to grab)

TAGS: Civilian!Reader, Depressed!Reader, Insecure!Reader, Angry!Soap, Protective!Soap, GuardDog!Soap, canon violence, hurt/comfort, swearing, blood mention. Ghost makes an appearance as a matchmaker lol. The love is requited they're just insecure idiots. Making Shit Up for the Plot/military inaccuracies.

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

A/N: My original prompt for this was: civilian!reader sees Soap in action and gets Horny. No Scared Just Horny.

Then I found out that Soap canonically beat up an officer. I am also obsessed with this video.

Part 1. Part 3.

This is it, you thought to yourself.

This is how I die.

The day had unfolded like any other. Your shift was over and you were locking up your office, as usual. Your attention was focused on your hands’ motion, your guard dropped, your back exposed.

This explained why, when the stranger grabbed your hair and bashed your head against the door mercilessly, you didn’t see it coming in the slightest. The fact that you had zero combat experience while the person manhandling you was a decorated military officer obviously made matters worse, but at the moment of the assault, you didn’t know that.

The thud of the collision was eclipsed almost immediately by the pain exploding in your face. Half-stunned, all you could comprehend at the moment, every single signal sent by your brain was compacted in one word: suffering. Sharp, all-encompassing. You yelped, your hands vainly pushing against the cold, hard surface to get away.

“I've finally found you, you little snitch. Didn’t think you'd get away with it, now did you?”

Despite the blood thumping in your ears, and how groggy the hit on your head made you, his words reached you perfectly. They were seeping with fury and disdain. His voice didn’t ring a bell, so you tried to turn your head to glimpse him, if only at the corner of your eye, and he granted you some leeway to do so.

Perplexity filled you as you finally caught sight of your aggressor: you've never seen that man before.

“I don't even know who you are,” you winced.

Talking back in your situation would be judged stupid and reckless by a majority of people. Laying low assured more chances to avoid harm.

However most people hadn't been mugged at knifepoint like you had been, and most people valued their lives way more than you did.

Once the confusion and incredulity subsided, the pain still vivid but manageable, you were left with frustration and anger towards your interminable bad luck and the man behind you. His aversion was harder to take seriously when it seemed to have no foundation.

The grip on your hair tightened, making you grit your teeth.

“I'll refresh your memory, then.”

One part of you managed to be pleased to know that this mystery would be solved; the rest was ringing alarm bells when hearing the underlying threats in his tone.

“Weeks ago, you filed a report for embezzlement.”

You frowned, having no recollection of his claims, before a memory emerged. You saw them in flashes: the sudden, abnormally high spendings, the certificates full of anomalies, the incoherent dates; all this lead you to complete a reporting form, just as your job required you to. It was just a formality. You hadn't even even paid attention to the name attached to the expenses, therefore the officer was still anonymous.

Your aggressor scoffs menacingly, easily reading on your face that you remembered.

“They're gonna strip me of my rank and throw me in jail because of you. I'll make you pay even if it’s the last thing I do.”

That last sentence was finished in an almost shout, making you flinch, wishing you could pass through the door.

You quietly resigned yourself to your fate. No one was coming for you. You were no stranger to the inner workings of the military - no one would dare cross an officer that high-ranked for your sake.

I've lived a good li- well, no. A pretty shitty life, actually. But at least I can say I did the right thing.

Just as you closed your eyes and braced yourself, hoping this wouldn’t drag on, a Scottish-accentuated roar resonated in the empty hall.

“Get yer hands off her-”

You had never heard Soap sound so enraged, nor his pitch so gravelly. Relief flooded through you at the sound of his voice, blended with gratitude. Tears stinged the corners of your eyes.

All of a sudden the unyielding grip on your hair was gone, the sound of something violently hitting the wall punctuating your newfound freedom.

“-ye fucking bastard!”

You immediately turned around to see what was happening, leaning against the door behind you. Your legs were too shaky to be reliable. The harmed side of your face was throbbing in pain as you took in the scene with wide eyes.

Johnny had pinned the officer against the wall with one forearm across his chest. He dealt him a punch to the face powerful enough that the resulting thud made you grimace, despite not feeling any sympathy for his target.

He managed to administer a second blow before his adversary snapped out of his stupor, and the advantage he gained from taking him by surprise ran its course.

As your assailant defended himself with the strength of someone backed into a corner, you couldn't help but fear for Soap's safety for a moment. Despite knowing that one's rank didn’t reflect their fighting prowess, a rush of anxiety passed through you at the idea that he could lose that confrontation.

Nonetheless, he quickly put your mind at ease as his skills proved to be largely superior. The gap between the two was deep enough that it was obvious even to a neophyte like you.

Paralyzed, you couldn’t do anything but stare at the display of violence with a mix of morbid fascination and sadistic satisfaction. Honestly, if you could borrow Soap's body, you would without a doubt inflict the same treatment on that man. Maybe worse. Fair payback for the threats, the smashing of your face, the probable trauma you'd get from this. Maybe not that fair. But maybe for once you'd stop trying to act like a paragon of virtue.

You should have been scared, you realized. You had never been involved in a fight before. You had never witnessed firsthand the brutality Johnny was capable of, despite being aware of it, between his status as a soldier and the reports you read. The dog tags jingling from his neck and the khaki of his uniform were like so many visual reminders that he was a killing machine. His ferocious wrath, his yelling and his punches should have made you cower in fright.

However the only feeling inhabiting you was safety, as paradoxical as it sounded. Soap was safe, you were convinced of it, consciously or not.

This whole ordeal felt like it lasted an eternity and a minute at the same time. You blinked and out of nowhere, Johnny was straddling the officer on the floor. Blows kept pouring in but they were one-sided - the sergeant had gained the upper hand. The rhythm of his strikes seemed attuned to the beatings of your heart. Each resonated inside of your ears with your skull as their echo chamber. The noise was loud enough to cover your own thoughts.

As you focused on your breathing, you managed to slow down your heartbeats, and the blood-fueled pump between your ribs no longer felt like it could burst out of your chest at any moment. You failed however to contain the tremor in your hands.

You chose to focus on Soap's hands instead. They were soaked red from blood spilled, but not his. Specks of crimson sprinkled his hair, his face, his neck, his t-shirt.

There was a certain sort of lethal beauty to this brutal display that you couldn't help but contemplate in reverent silence: the way his bicep swole when he threw his arm back before hitting his target. The tightening of the muscles beneath the tanned skin of his arms. His icy stare. The harsh line of his jaw. His stern, inflexible expression, one he usually wore in meetings or after Price gave the order to leave.

The expression of someone who would stop at nothing, provided a bleak little voice in the back of your mind. The idea didn’t bother you nearly as much as it should have.

“Not gonna make him stop?”

The familiar grunt of Ghost's voice almost made you jump out of your skin. You pivoted and the behemoth of a lieutenant was there, in casual clothes, right by your side. You had no idea when he arrived or how long he's been standing there, quiet like a shadow.

Something dark flashed in his brown eyes as his gaze lingered on the hurt side of your face.

“Why would I show mercy to someone who would have granted me none?” you scoffed bitterly.

“Someone's bloodthirsty.”

“You're one to talk.”

“Didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

You turned your attention back to Soap and Ghost did the same.

“I doubt he would listen to me.”

“He would,” stated the masked man, with the assertiveness of someone announcing a conviction.

“But if ya don't believe me…”

A beat, then.

“Oï, Johnny!”

The shout was nonchalant, like it was something he did often, calling off his sergeant from some prey like the Scotsman was his personal attack dog.

The effect was immediate.

Soap abruptly froze, blinking a couple times as if awakening from a trance. Then he perked up, and turned around, eyes searching. The first sound that left his lips was a call of your name. His gaze latched onto you and didn’t let go as he stood up and rushed towards you. The naked vulnerability, the raw openness in his voice and on his face were so earnest that they felt like a Cupid's arrow shot straight between your lungs. It left you devoid of speech and motion, so as Johnny reached for you, all you could do was try to convey your reassurances through your eyes; that you were mostly fine, and so grateful, but worried for him, that he made everything better-

His arms closing around you made the outside disappear, and suddenly the whole world came down to Johnny, and only him. His embrace was enjoyable for a second before the pressure of his body against your face woke up your contusions. You let out a muffled cry of pain and he released you immediately, swearing and apologizing. However his hands didn’t leave you, grasping your shoulders.

“C'mere hen, lemme have a look at ye.”

“Oh, I'm fine, you should worry about-”

Your voice pathetically died in your throat as he cupped your face, leaning over, way too close for your heart to not start stammering uncontrollably.

The combined attention of his fingertips on your skin and the turquoise of his eyes roaming your visage turned your cheeks into a blazing inferno.

Unable to maintain eye contact, your gaze wandered over his own injuries, a split lip and a couple of bruises.

Suddenly he grabbed your chin between his thumb and index, tilting your face one way and the other. Your skin flared up at the contact, pleasant yet nervous tingles scattering all over your body.

“Ye sure he didn’t hit ye on that side? Yer a wee bit red.”

You bit back a whine of complaint at that comment. He couldn’t be that oblivious.

“Yer makin’ it worse, Johnny.” sneaked Ghost, the amusement manifest in his voice - at least to you.

Soap looked up to him, frowning in incomprehension, indignant.

“The hell ya on aboot L.T.? How am ah makin’ it worse?”

You panicked.

“Shut up Riley!” you hissed, in a desperate attempt to put a stop to his shenanigans, forgetting that you were supposed to be severely intimidated by the masked man.

That drew a gruff chuckle out of him. Your sudden outburst caused Johnny to release you.

“Not that I'm not glad to see you, but why are you two even here, anyway?”

You were kind of proud of your ability to change the subject.

“Was comin’ tae get ye fer a game,” smiled Soap, and it reminded you of a pet proudly presenting its owners with its findings.

“This one wasn’t coming back, and neither of you were answering your phones, so we figured somethin’ went wrong. And we were right. This poor fucker is wanted. Called in reinforcements to deal with him.”

Footsteps’ noises caught your attention. A group of soldiers in uniform seized your aggressor and brought him to his feet, before unceremoniously shoving him in the direction opposite of you.

“Gotta tell Gaz the game ain't happening tonight.”

By the time you took in what Ghost had said, and turned away from the procession, he had already disappeared.

“This isn’t over,” menaced the officer, passing by your spot as he was hauled away. “When I get out-”

“Shut the fuck up,” snarled Soap instantly, protectively positionning himself in front of you.

“Found yourself a faithful guard dog, uh?” the other man taunted.

One one hand, that last remark wasn’t so far from the truth - he had been acting a lot like that: barking threats, baring his teeths, standing between you and the menace, reducing a man to a bloody pulp for hitting you…

But on the other hand, letting that piece of shit talk to Johnny this way was simply out of the question.

Before thinking, you found yourself walking in front of the sergeant and retorting.

“What, jealous he's ten times the man you'll never be?”

Fortunately for you, he was dragged away before he could snap anything back. That didn’t prevent you from regretting your snarky comment immediately. It had been a purely impulsive urge, the kind that could make you feel heavy remorse for days, if not years. As if this seasoned combat expert needed your aid to defend himself. The idea was ludicrous.

You didn’t get a moment to mope around however, as Johnny proceeded to grab you by the hips and press you flush against him with a jubilant smirk. You couldn’t do much except prop yourself with both hands on his pectorals to avoid stumbling.

“My hero.” he praised like a smitten damsel in distress.

“Look who's talking.”

You lowered your gaze despite yourself, mumbling your reply, a half smile on your lips, embarrassed but amused.

“Going after bastards is mah job, not yours. You gutsy little thing.”

You refrained a sarcastic laughter at the nickname - gutsy and little were two things you have never been called, as far as you can remember. But you weren't about to argue with the man who just saved your sorry ass.

His fingers pressed into your flesh, sending tickles at the bottom of your spine.You were about to ask him to let you go, the position too incriminating for this public setting, when you noticed how dilated his pupils were. He had to be high on adrenaline from the fight.

You may have let yourself get lost in the blue pools of his eyes, until his expression turned grave.

“Ye sure yer good? Yer too calm about this. No need tae put oan a brave face fer me, aye?”

The genuine, serious concern in his eyes made the inside of your stomach twist.

“I'm good. You arrived just in time,” you assured.

How peculiar it felt to be the one to comfort Johnny, rather than the opposite; that the lionhearted, superhuman sergeant Mactavish might even need such a thing; that he might require it from you, of all people.

“He didn’t get to do much.”

His pretty features contorted into a scowl at the reminder of your attacker.

“That sonuvabitch… raising a hand on ye in broad fuckin’ daylight… if he ever touches ye again, I swear I’ll…”

As he kept fulminating against your assailant, you couldn’t stop an endeared smile from spreading on your lips. Listening to one of Soap's rants brightened your mood; it was familiar. The sincerity in his words and his tone was welcome. He wasn’t able to fake those emotions even if he wanted to; they spilled out of him like a waterfall. His honest worry and righteous ire towards someone who hurt you was… flattering, in a sense. It made you feel cared for, like you mattered.

Then red started dripping.

“Johnny… your nose is bleeding.”

He wiped it negligently with the back of his hand, only succeeding in smearing it over his face. You couldn’t hold back a snort.

“Bend over. It will stop faster.”

“Buy me dinner first.”

He punctuated his quip with a suggestive wriggle of his eyebrows. You rolled your eyes.

“Let's just go to medical already.” you grumbled, starting to walk decisively, albeit stiffly, in the right direction.

“Aye, aye,” acquiesced your savior, jogging a bit to catch up to you.

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minus-plus-zer0 · 3 months ago

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When He's Tired

♡ Genre: Hurt/comfort (extreme emphasis on comfort), fluff ♡ Pairing: Bakugou x Reader ♡ Tags: Aged up, established relationships

You were Bakugou's personal stress ball. After a long, bad day, Bakugou would come home and immediately hold you in his arms, squeezing you while complaining about all his troubles.

The irritated expression on his face would relax as you cuddled into him. Bakugou would tell you all about his day, cursing every single person who bothered him recently. You listened with rapt attention, nodding your head against his thick chest and occasionally mumbling sympathies.

Sometimes you or Bakugou would doze off partway through. You tried to remain awake until he got most of his complaints out of the way, otherwise you'd offer to hear his vents more later. On the other hand, Bakugou would make it obvious when he dozed off due to him no longer being able to speak, as he lazily rested his head against yours.

Afterwards, you two would usually wake up to find yourselves lying down on the couch, still wrapped around each other. If Bakugou's day was really bad, he'd immediately pick up where he left off and continue complaining. If it wasn't, he'd offer to hear about your day instead. And if your day was half as bad as Bakugou's, you'd never let him leave the couch until you were finished.

His lips would curl into a wider and wider grin as you grew more frustrated by merely recounting the terrible memories. He loved seeing you get those worries off your chest, because he knew how refreshing it would feel.

And if either of you ever revealed somebody was really fucking with your life, both of you would team up to take this person down. The sight would be terrifying to behold. But this would only occur after you two were finally done talking (and more importantly, napping).

(A couple of people mentioned they don't mind more sleepy stories so here's another sleepy story, technically)

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felixandresims · 9 months ago

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KICHEN 2Point0 Part 2

The 43-piece second half of the KICHEN 2Point0 focuses on appliances and clutter for your kitchens.

Of course, it's also time for another trip down memory lane to revisit the original Kichen & how it links back to this current iteration. All the items apart from the wishboner chair have been completely new ideas and meshes, however we wanted to try and capture some of our favourite elements from the original and reimagine them in our current styles. Way back in 2019 Harrie wasn't experienced in making new meshes from scratch, so many of the clutter items were mesh edits of EA items. For our first few collaborations, we would actually explore all of the EA items that we felt would fit into our theme, but with the Kichen 2Point0, we made all of the clutter items from scratch. It was so important for us to include new essential clutter pieces in this set as even to this day, we will often gravitate towards those original clutter items when building & we still spot them in many of your builds, too!

We have tried to cover all the appliances you need to bring this kitchen to life. Of course, with new EA functional items being added with new pack releases, we were also long overdue for a small appliance refresh that we haven't had in any of our other set releases. Highlights include the functional kettle (requires For Rent EP) and the mixer (requires Home Chef Hustle SP), but of course, we have also included decorative versions for those of you who don't have those packs.

Most of the items are Base Game compatible, except for the Mixer & kettle, as mentioned above, and can be found by searching the B/B catalog using the keyword 2Point0. As the items are designed for both of our current sets, they will also appear when you search using the keywords KLEAN or SOHO.

We can't wait to see what you do with the new items and how you bring them all to life in your game. As always, we would love it if you tagged us in your builds on social media.

Set items include:

High Oven

Low Oven (2 counter height options)

Low Gas Stove (2 counter height options)

Low Induction Stove (2 counter height options)

Induction Hob

Gas Hob

Dishwasher (2 counter height options)

Fridge

Coffee Machine

Kettle (functional & decorative)

Food Mixer (functional & decorative)

Mixer Bowls

Toaster

Pot & Pans

Large Plates

Small Plates

Bowls

Cups

Glasses

Pantry (open)

Pantry (closed)

Double Pantry

Now on Patreon Early Access

This Set is on Early Access and will be available for everyone on the 7th of June.

#ts4cc #ts4 cc mm #ts4 cc finds #ts4cc download #ts4 maxis match #ts4 kitchen #house of harlix #felixandresims #harrie cc

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harrie-cc · 9 months ago

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Kichen 2Point0 - Part 2

The 43 piece second half of the KICHEN 2Point0 focuses on appliances and clutter for your kitchens.

Of course its also time for another trip down memory lane, to revisit the original Kichen & how it links back to this current iteration. All the items apart from the Wishboner chair have been completely new ideas and meshes, however we wanted to try and capture some of our favourite elements from the original and reimagine them in our current styles. Way back in 2019 Harrie wasn't yet experienced in making new meshes from scratch (Fun fact: The dining table included in the original Kichen was her first ever from scratch mesh!), so a lot of the clutter items were mesh edits of EA items. For our first few collaborations we would actually explore all of the EA items that we felt would fit into our theme, but with the Kichen 2Point0 we made all of the clutter items from scratch. It was so important for us to include new essential clutter pieces in this set as even to this day we will often gravitate towards those original clutter items when building & we still spot them in many of your builds too! (edited)

We have tried to cover all of the appliances you would need to bring this kitchen to life. Of course with new EA functional items being added with new pack releases we were also long overdue a small appliance refresh that we haven't had in any of our other set releases. Highlights include the functional kettle (requires For Rent EP) & the mixer (requires Home Chef Hustle SP), but of course we have also included decorative versions for those of you that don't have those packs.

Majority of the items are Base Game compatible with the exception of the Mixer & kettle as mentioned above and can be found by searching the B/B catalogue using the keyword 2Point0. As the items are designed for both of our current sets they will also show up when you search using the keywords KLEAN or SOHO

We really can't wait to see what you do with the new items and how you bring them all to life in your game. As always we would love you to tag us in your builds on social media.

Set items include:

High Oven

Low Oven (2 counter height options)

Low Gas Stove (2 counter height options)

Low Induction Stove (2 counter height options)

Induction Hob

Gas Hob

Dishwasher (2 counter height options)

Fridge

Coffee Machine

Kettle (functional & decorative)

Food Mixer (functional & decorative)

Mixer Bowls

Toaster

Pot & Pans

Large Plates

Small Plates

Bowls

Cups

Glasses

Pantry (open)

Pantry (closed)

Double Pantry

Available Now on Patreon Early Access

Public Release: 7th July

#ts4cc download #ts4ccfinds #ts4mm #felixandresims #felixandre #heyharrie #ts4 maxis match #harriecc #ts4cc

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elvirable · 1 year ago

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Instincts

[ Astarion x f!Reader/Tav ] | ao3 link

rating: explicit | word count: 3.7k | status: complete themes/tags: vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, creampie, feelings realization, denial of feelings, light angst at the end, you know the sex scene after the tiefling party?, yeah so this is it, with astarions pov, already catching feelings smh, smut is halfway through, just skip to after all early dialogue

----------------------------------------------------

Little did he know that evening, that was the beginning of his simple plan crumbling apart.

In other words: Astarion has been struggling to balance century-long instincts with newfound feelings, an undeniable connection. He carries out his simple little plan as intended, but meets complications he didn't quite expect. ----------- A/N: so i hung up my cod medals of honor to write this.. i've been playing for a month now. originally posted without proofreading, but its now edited for grammar and some terms -----

It was hard not to have fun around you.

Something of a child-like giddiness would buzz through his nerves whenever you sauntered over, his marbled red eyes wouldn't dare to miss a beat of the vision you were. Swaying hips and that deceivingly coy face. Of course, you were strikingly beautiful – a wickedly delectable sight – but that wasn’t the only source of his carnal anticipation.

It was just you, the enigmatic little thing you were.

Admittedly, Astarion believed he had read you like an open book the moment he laid eyes on you. It was an instinct of his: gathering a cerebral repository of notable ticks and body language, facial twitches, and octave changes in those around him. Watchful, constant observations.

He had chalked you up to a sort of stoic character at first. Graceful, to a degree, in your manner of subtly balancing the world around you. A stable composure, quick and quiet without brash or idle chatter.. unlike that Gale. You were a less flagrantly repulsive hero-type crafted in his mind – but he had still expected you to be oh-so predictable with a shallow drive for self-emaciating ‘justice’. Whereas the others wore their baggage like a garment, you held your cards close to your chest – like a chameleon suddenly thrust into the spotlight.

Yet the sun rose and fell two or three times around the wilderness of Elturel, when he found himself pleasantly contradicted. He normally didn’t dedicate much attention towards someone he believed he so easily pegged, but his interest began to pique. Just enough to leave him sitting with an edge and a consuming desire to peer in closer.

Maybe it was the way your mouth twitched into a quiet smile during his verbal antics on the road or the firm passiveness you held from the blighted village to the drama of Emerald Grove; an intoxicatingly confusing blend of traits you harbored. The closer he watched you, the less blurred you became. You didn’t fear being authentic and enforcing boundaries to those who attempted to use you – but you weren’t cruel; you met the world around you just as it was, without discrimination. No unnecessary harm, no free handouts either.

Or perhaps it was your sarcastic remarks that stirred what little glee he had in him; an especially delicious and refreshing insight into your humor. While he could care to give a critical note or two on your lack of blatant cruelty, Astarion respected your compelling demeanor; he witnessed how all these companions turned their eyes so frequently to you with decision.

But what he did know for sure was the eye contact.

Gods, the first time your heads swiveled mid-strife and your gazes locked with a rich crackle – the memory alone was enough to stupefy him! Something strange stirred, something that didn’t sit comfortably. He didn’t know what to make of it.

With all this said, that same sensation boiled inside his stomach as he mulled over his every interaction with you. He recalled that moment of midnight – when all was still and you had caught him prepared to taste your throat. Your wary stare pierced through him, washing away briefly the desperate pangs of blood-thirst and left him feeling.. nervous.

Ugh, how he despised the feeling.

He was sickened when all those ledgers of observations caved in on himself, caught in his pale throat. He had taken such an overwhelming liking to you – to the extent, he had realized, that he was drawn to your guidance, your approval; a repulsive frustration at the time enough to coil through his cold veins. Without much to say, however, he was adamantly relieved when you conceded and soon regularly allowed him to drink from your slender neck.

His trail of thoughts glossed over your stifled grunts onto the following morning: when you came to his defense as everyone felt the need to chime in with their unfettered prejudices. And how his ease, his excitement around you became persistently potent – a fresh energy that filled him as you spurred on his teasings and whims. Astarion noticed your subtle release of your ever-strong walls, just enough so he could relish in your humor and affable side.

There was always a hesitation at doting on the sensation that rose inside him at these thoughts of you. He surmised he was merely back in the practice; where he spun honeyed words and charmingly guile eye contact, to wrap his target around his finger. Any little edge of control he could grasp onto, the familiar taste of influence he used to know so well. These habits of two hundred years were kicking in. He’d play the part and – sooner or later – this eagerness to please would be reversed onto you.

Whether it was his own willful denial or the culmination of fate’s ever-spinning thread, the first crumble began the night of the tiefling party.

Cool and clear was the star-freckled night. Everything was too merry for him: the wide-toothed grins of the tieflings, sharp strums of the lute, the chatter. Even the wine was downright awful, pungent and tart like vinegar.

Astarion would’ve normally indulged in his bitter mood, but it was the sight of your drunken smile that diffused his prior desire to complain.

How interesting, he thought as his eyes lapped up your squinted grin and eased laughter. It was helplessly infectious to see you so earnest, casually prattling on in conversation throughout the camp.

Red eyes followed while you made your rounds, encouraging the tiefling’s dancing lights spell and conversing with the bard. Astarion even raised a brow at the playful expression that washed over your face as you spoke to the hulking druid by the name of Halsin. When you strolled over to Shadowheart and he caught that carefully provocative glint in the raven-haired cleric’s eyes – a chord of jealousy grew taut inside his chest.

He had half the mind to feel insulted that you hadn’t wandered in his direction yet, but that was quickly dispersed when he noticed you dismiss yourself and head towards a wooden crate near the riverfront.

Almost like a shadow, Astarion swept in your direction. Whether it was to merely take in your smile up close or to put his plan in motion, he settled on the latter. You were rifling through the crate that held what could barely pass as wine, muttering a quiet curse about the little tiefling probably pocketing a bottle or two.

“Here’s my little treat with her cheeks all flushed,” the words dripped from his mouth with a sweet cadence. “You will come to my bed tonight, won’t you?”

You swiveled at the sound of his voice, raised brow accompanying your hazy smile. The influence of wine lowered your usual wariness, and he caught the realization flutter across your face; there was no constitution in attempting to act reserved, especially with the rapport you two had grown. Amusement was written all over your face, hardly concealed – you had decided to play along.

“A little treat? You can do better than that.”

“Oh, I certainly can. It would be my pleasure.”

He leaned closer, half-lidded eyes darkening and breath heavy with a mischievous delight. You watched him expectantly, reveling in what would pour from his lips.

“How about this one,” he loosened his posture, as if you both were stowed away from the entire world instead of dawdling along the outskirts of the shoddy camp. “All these accolades from the tieflings are nothing compared to the sound of my name, cried from your lips.”

Astarion watched the smile further spread across your soft lips, the wickedly sweet crinkle in your eyes while you crossed your arms. An exhilaration rose underneath his suave demeanor, even the bemused snicker invigorating.

“Is that the best you can do?” came your quick quip.

“Hmm, let me give it another go,” his voice was thick with arousal, a hungry glint in his eyes. “Every part of your perfect body whispers temptation – it’s as if the Gods made you just to ruin me.”

His words clung to the air for a moment. The deliberate onslaught of poetic pleasantries laced with such ardent lust, the hum of the wine – Astarion studied your face swirling in thought. Heat had built up from the lower half of your body up to your cheeks, a quiet neediness wavering in your stance and threatened to boil to the surface of your skin.

Gods, you were thinking, it had been the longest time and you’ve been touch-starved.. more so under the urgency of all the trouble you had been thrust into. You never trusted a pretty boy, but you'd be damned if his flowered prose didn't stir something in you; you had never been the subject of such pursuits, real or not. Desire rushed through you, coiling in your stomach.

There was a beckoning in his eyes as they clutched onto yours, imporing you to draw closer, and his boyish features were even more alluring when caressed by the moon’s glow. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to trust those flowery words. They were tinted with an air of rehearse.

“Did these really work on Cazador’s targets?”

“Well, they’re working on you, aren’t they?”

A mild bashfulness buzzed through the warmth on your cheeks, as you couldn’t really deny it.

“How about if I said these little words… everyone’s favorite,” Astarion continued, pausing for effect.

“I love you.”

Sly amusement colored his face. He had succeeded in riling up the intrinsic urge, no matter how much you tried to conceal it. How adorable you were when your gaze fluttered briefly.

“Having fun, are you?” you observed, smile holding on your lips.

As he had mused earlier, he was. It was hard not to whenever around you.

Festivities settled down, the entire camp fast asleep once the wine crate had emptied and bellies were full. Only the chittering of crickets could be heard amongst the trees.

The forest, usually dressed in potent darkness, stilled beneath the moonlight. A serene, subtle beauty of the night – one Astarion was very accustomed to knowing, to living . He had done this so many times it had become second nature – the salacious rendezvous, the secrecy and fleeting thrill of them all.

He had contemplated before, the image of you melting in the throes of pleasure. He wondered whether you preferred his hands gentle or rough, what sounds would dribble from your lips – if they sounded as sweet as you tasted.

Though nothing could prepare him for the reality, which far surpassed fantasy; the pretty little thing you were, bare figure caressed by the lowlight, slowly making your way towards him.

“There you are. I’ve been waiting.”

You offered him a coy smile, cheeks still warm and rosy. An ache rushed between your legs at the sight of him sauntering forward, his well-formed broad physique. Lean, yet muscular – and the soft details of his appearance; the crease of laughter lines, the curl of his lashes. Just the anticipation of it all served enough to make you wet.

“Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you. Waiting to have you,” he leaned closer, desire coating every syllable.

“You don’t have me yet,” you matched the pulse of his words, emanating a playfulness to goad him on further.

Greedy lips suddenly met yours, and you were pressed against the tree trunk. His palms gripped the back of your thighs, swift dexterity almost catching you off guard. You instantly melted, like a puddle, in his grasp; your soft lips just as eager, skin aching and impatient for his touch. You never realized how sensitive you were, how truly touch-starved until you fought the gasp that escaped your throat.

Astarion didn’t waste a beat, carefully laying you onto the grass below while he drawled slow kisses along the curve of your neck. Fervent yearning permeated from your skin; you wanted more, and he was prepared to give you everything .

He drank in the sight of your arousal, eager to please you yet potently roused from the position he was in: you were such a delectably pretty thing sprawled beneath his weight, completely bare and vulnerable. Wide eyes bashfully beckoning him to just taste you.

“Part those precious legs for me, beautiful.” He directed, his voice less of a growl this time – instead more sweet. Soft.

You could feel your face heat up further at his words, following his command without hesitation. Tender hands trailed along the soft skin of your thigh, his intense eyes briefly leaving yours to watch his fingers lingered over your folds – you were glistening with slick , fevered arousal.

“Oh my, you’re already so wet for me.”

His voice was almost a whisper now, as a keen excitement rushed through his veins. A twitch pressed against his briefs, his cock already hard and eager especially when his eyes darted towards your rosy. So willing, ready to indulge his every whim. For a moment, he settled in your vulnerability – a sight he didn't expect to see. You were always full of such delicious surprises.

He shook the thought from his mind, allowing a sly smile to return to his lips.

“Who knew you were so needy?”

Your cheeks flushed, timid lips scrambling to form a defensive retort before he slipped two fingers inside. Only a quiet gasp left your mouth as your soaking warmth struggled to adjust, tightening around his digits. You were barely able to comprehend the words he said, instinctively bucking your hips.

“ Astar ..” your breath hitched before you could even finish, when his fingers began a slow pace. Teasingly slow, you would beckon, but there was nothing you could even fathom whispering anymore. Your walls began to clench, eager to receive his unwavering attention.

Hums of pleasure pulsed through your every nerve, rapidly as he fastened the curling pace of his fingers. Every hitched and quiet whimper encouraged him, his palm soaked with your slick. He relished the sight of your round breasts rising and falling feverishly, your heat clenched around him – his cock further hardened, precum no doubt pooling on the fabric of his briefs.

All you could manage was to focus on the pleasure mounting between your legs, thighs now quivering with anticipation. His thumb slid up to your swollen clit, never breaking pace, to draw teasingly slow circles. He adjusted his weight to lean closer to your face, the sudden attention causing an overwhelming shyness to press your eyes shut. Your thighs trembled more now while his fingers beckoned and lured your pleasure to spur closer and closer.

“Look at me,” he whispered, his voice the gentlest you’ve ever heard.

He couldn’t place the sensation – of feeling entranced in a sense, when whimpers of pleasure fumbled from your beautiful lips. Astarion almost felt lost, nearly mesmerized, when you kept those pretty eyes trained on his. He could feel his eyes soften at your vulnerable stare, and all at once everything inside him craved to slide into your warmth. To feel you melt into him, to hit every right spot to make you sing, for every sweet prayer cascading from your lips to be for him.

“Mmf..” You were left in a sudden foggy haze, a mix of pleasure and confusion when he abruptly withdrew his fingers. You couldn’t fathom any words to speak, only furrowed your brows in a hazed and disorientated manner.

“I’m sorry, love.” His breathless laugh seemed dazed before the low, heaviness returned to his tone, “You were practically just begging with those lovely eyes of yours.”

He leaned downwards to plant soft, reassuringly delicate pecks across the nape of your neck; each a mantra to affection, leaving a buzz in their wake. Carefully he peeled down his briefs with a wasted moment to rub his eager cock against your slick warmth.

Your moans sounded even sweeter closer to his ear, and a delighted sigh pressed from his lips onto your skin. His throbbing cock was met with some resistance as the length and girth was suffocated by your tightening walls, warm spasms at the sensation being filled.

A guttural, low moan hummed from his throat. Fuck, you were so perfectly tight.

His cock pulsed at the sudden attention, aching with pleasure and a warm buzz radiating through his skin. He paused for a moment, needing to relish every second it felt to be now pressed so deep inside you. The softness of your skin, delicate cues of pleasure washing over your face, how your warm walls enveloped his cock.

You moaned as he pushed more of his length inside your needy warmth, tears beginning to well up in the corner of your eyes. Pleasure and slight pain blurred, the tip of his cock almost pressed against your soft cervix and a rouse of heat traveling up your spine.

His hands gripped the globes of your ass to adjust his leverage, slowly but deliberately digging his hips against yours with each thrust. His body was achingly ready, alive with frantic urge. He was incapable of any pretty words to whisper, tangled groans replacing his usual velvet tongue.

As he pounded quicker into your warmth, your pulsating soft walls sucked his cock tighter and deeper with each buckle. He nestled his head into the nape of your neck. Sweat formed on his pale forehead as he wrestled with his restraint, his cock stroking in and out, hitting pleasure points you never knew existed and relishing in your shameless cries – desperate for him.

Soft, warm pleasure unraveled across you in hot waves. If you had the mind, you could only hope that no one could hear you two – the sounds and wet smacks of his skin colliding against yours – but all you could do was turn your pleasured cries and whimpers into soundless gasps.

Your lips parted, hips bucking before your back arched from the ground. Every fiber of your body attempted to get closer to him, and his to you. Of some act of grace, your hand caressed his face, lifting him to face yours.

Oh, how he wanted to melt right there.

Eager eyes met each other, brows furrowing together into a soft, tender stare. Astarion’s hips began to buck erratically for a moment as he struggled to regain his resolve. Once steadied, he continued to bury deeper into you in every perfect way. You were clenched so tightly, so divinely around him while his name trickled as a whisper from your lips.

“You – fuck .. “ you couldn’t be bothered to form a proper sentence, every whim of comprehension overwhelmed by new heights of white pleasure. You were lulled into a stupor, and his grip tightened at your garbled pleas.

“Thaaat’s it,” Astarion practically begged, voice ragged, his eyes never leaving your beautiful face as it twisted with sweet expressions. An eagerness gnawed inside him, to push you to the edge of your pleasures. You were so perfect while you cried his name, taking all of him so well.

“Come for me, sweet girl –” Hushed and delicate was his tone, only causing you to surrender any inhibition.

Heat wound tightly in your abdomen, lashes wet with the tears trailing down your warm face. Every nerve was wound so tight, finally snapping into a rush of white hot pleasure that left your skin flushed and tingling. You tried to whine out his name, but it spilled out into broken gasps as you reached your fingers to grip his silver curls.

His hips began to stagger, riding out your pleasure until he could no longer postpone the succumb to pleasure. They lost their rhythm, and a low moan rumbled from his throat as he surrendered to the overwhelming sensation of your tightening walls, pressing into you.

You could feel his cock throbbing in you, as your nerves are slow to fizzle from the glowing buzz, and it swelled. Your slick walls were overstimulated nearly by his desperate, choppy thrusts before a cry escapes his lips – his cum flooded into you, thick and hot. He felt waves of warmth, so real and alive. So helplessly right.

The air was silent, as you both collected your breaths in hurried gasps. Astarion peeled his weight off of you only to roll onto his back, by your side. Your body felt light and completely slack, almost boneless as you sunk into the earth underneath you. Aftershocks of pleasure still rippled throughout your nerves.

Both of you laid sweaty, flushed, exhausted, lacking the energy to care. You broke the silence with a wobble in your voice.

“Fuck, you came inside me..” you stated the obvious, reeling from pulsing nerves and vision hazy.

“I’m sure the druids have something that’ll take care of that..” Astarion said breathlessly, extending an arm to wipe the sweat glistening off his forehead.

He waited for a quiet laugh or a retort, but neither came.

Turning his head, he was met with the vision of your exhausted figure fast asleep. Slowly your chest rose and fell, face at ease – a vulnerability he had only seen when you were in deep sleep, if you weren't tossing and turning.

The quiet sat with him while he attempted to gather his thoughts, his experience. He had seen an entirely different side of you – exposed delicate. Part of his conscience pooled with guilt.

He had a plan. A nice simple plan. It wasn’t foreign to casually bed strangers, seducing and manipulating them into following his every whim. Hells, this had been routine for two hundred years . The count was lost on how many nights he spent using people like ragdolls, only to be lured back into the hands of Cazador.

Astarion returned his gaze to the stars glistening above, attempting his best at reducing it to the odd circumstances or perhaps he was simply out of practice.

Regardless – even if it was more than a fluke – he had already fucked things up. The thought felt tainted now, uneasy and riddled with remorse.

Little did he know that evening, that was the beginning of his plan crumbling apart.

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almostempty · 1 month ago

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Something in your mouth

(joel miller x f!reader)

The third installment of Never made it as a wise man aka creed!joel

WC: 8.4k | Part 1 | Part 2 | Other fics | Rating: 18+

Summary: post hand job and phone sex; it’s the leadup and part 1 of these horny bishes goin’ on a date

Note: heyyyyy it’s me and i’m back on my bs . i know i promised the fuckening, but that was summer me and now it’s winter me.. so instead of hiding and never updating, i remembered i have free will so u get the full week lead-up and the first half of the date.. and then i’ll brb with the fuckfest okay? i promise. (also it’s actually almost done this time so it won’t take months). again, i am still merely a vessel for the spirit of buttrock joel. hopefully this part 3 is girthy enough to sate your appetite a lil bit

Tags: au no outbreak modern joel, divorced dad rock dilf joel x f!reader, picks up right where pt 2 ended, alternating pov, dirty talk, horny yearning, blowjob in the truck, still crackish, but i am still dead serious about it being hot so idc, mistakes are all mine

Thanks to Nickelback for having non stop horny bangerz to quote such as Something in your mouth

major thanks to @hoelaris for this moodboard that made me weep tears of joy bc is it so perfect

thanks to @magneticecstasy for date joel thots to be ft in this pt and the next, @auteurdelabre for telling me to let them have their happy ending so i can get back to the paris boys faster, to @syd-djarin for support, horny thots, song suggestions etc, and @itwasntimethatdidit40 for the nickelback pedro tiktok edit inspo

it really takes a village or whatever they say <3

*if u forgot what this is bc i took so long give Part 1 and Part 2 a read for a refresh <3

*if i missed ur tag or u want off this ride lemme know

okay, it's starting now:

You wake up in Joel’s shirt. It smells more like you than him already, but it still makes you grin devilishly just the same. You go about your day, a few errands and some chores, the whole time with a little more energy than usual.

When you’re back home and settled in to have a lazy afternoon, you get a little restless. Itchy fingers. It’s hard not to pick up your phone and check your messages again and again. You’re drawn to looking at the picture he sent, the pictures you took, and you can’t help wondering…

Did he wake up thinking of you? Hard, aching, and leaking at the memory of your voice.

Did he dream of all the nasty things he said he wanted to do to you? Waking up throbbing and frustrated, grinding his cock into the mattress as if you were beneath him.

Did he wake up and check his phone to confirm you were real? Making it all the way to the shower before surrendering, wishing it was your soft cunt he was fucking instead of his fist.

You know you’re fucked when just thinking about him thinking about you has you so turned on. It’s so tempting to send him something else. Another picture? An audio message? A thinking of you 😘 text?

No. No, no, no.

You can wait him out. Make him work for it a little. He’s a full-grown man. You’ve already given him enough to work with. Plus, you wanna know what he’s gonna come up with next. Right?

The lazy Sunday ends all too soon and before you know it you’re back to work. Dragging ass into the office with the biggest iced coffee you could buy. You deserve a treat to get through your Monday anyway.

A little warning bell chimes in the back of your mind as you drop your things on your desk. Ellie grumbles a good morning that matches your enthusiasm for fluorescent lights at 8 am. A little seed of guilt sprouts within you.

Is it fucked up of you to mess around with Joel? It’s not like it’s something serious. Or, does that make it even worse? There’s no way he would say anything to her about it.

“Heard you saw Joel again,” she says before you’ve even sat down. Great.

“Uh, yeah,” you reply, “Still didn’t feel right that he wouldn’t accept anything for helping with my car.” You sink into your chair, hesitating to say more. It’s too early to have a good poker face.

“So you made him a lasagna?” She questions, staring you down.

“Men love my meat sauce,” you say with a shrug.

“Gross,” Ellie grimaces at that, “please, don’t ever say that again.”

You buy her off with the rest of the cookies you had baked. She’s happy to take the entire container from you and happier to enjoy them all immediately. If she’s suspicious she’s either good at hiding it or you really don’t know how to read her.

You carry on with your morning catching up on mindless tasks, swirling your coffee around as the ice starts to melt, and trying to stay focused. Ellie turns on her music and you can’t help thinking of Joel again. It’s like he’s infected your mind and every shitty 2000s post-grunge alt-rock song conjures him up.

You can’t help wondering what exactly he would’ve told Ellie about your surprise visit. Would he have asked about you? Implied anything? You can’t stop yourself from asking.

“What did he say?”

Ellie’s head swivels towards you immediately.

“Who?”

Instantly you know you messed up. You didn’t realize how much time had passed. You shouldn’t still be thinking of him. She prods you about what you said and what you meant. Not accepting a nothing or a never mind. An uncomfortable wave of embarrassment twists in your stomach, heat blooms in your cheeks, and your hands are fidgety.

You shouldn’t have brought it up, you shouldn't be so defensive. Shouldn’t, shouldn’t, shouldn’t.

Ellie is sharp–cutthroat–reading your every move. You stare at the empty Tupperware on her desk, hoping it will reveal some sort of escape plan. A strategy to deflect. It’s too late. Her eyes narrow just the slightest bit and she follows your gaze. It clicks.

“Oh, you meant Joel?”

You’re so busted. “I..uh,” you don’t know how to finish that thought.

“Why?” She gives you such a blank-faced look that it’s unsettling. You’re an adult. Why does this feel like you got caught sneaking out to see a boy on a school night?

You try to brush it off, but it sounds more defensive, making it worse. You focus on cracking your knuckles and trying to feign a more casual air. For some reason that means you keep talking. Broken sentences pouring out of you and trailing off into a stiff laugh.

Mercifully, Ellie cuts you off. Tells you it was Tommy who mentioned it.

So, he was the one who showed up while you had your legs spread open on Joel’s kitchen counter. The catalyst to your shirt heist and hasty getaway. That makes your face hot for a different reason.

“Oh. Gross.” Ellie groans.

“What?”

“You’ve got that look on your face.”

You snort at that. Only slightly horrified that she’s so adept at picking up the tells on your face. “What look?”

You suck down the last of your iced coffee, stalling, until you’re just sucking in air. You toss it in the tiny trash bin between the two of you and decide to be honest no matter what she says. You’d rather get ahead of it.

“Was it a sex lasagna?” Her mouth is pulled into a look of disgust.

You snort at that before shaking your head, preparing to get it all out.

“Okay, look. It was a thank-you lasagna.” You pause, trying to figure out exactly how much to share. “I didn’t plan the rest of it. It just…happened. And, fuck, it was so hot.”

Her face wrinkles with confusion, then disgust, then laughter. It makes your heart rate speed up.

“I’m sorry,” your words come out like a waterfall. “I don’t want to make things weird. I want us to be friends. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sure it wasn’t serious. I’ll tell you whatever you want. It was my fault. I showed up without letting him know. I made the first move—”

“You fold quick,” Ellie notes, interrupting you. She throws her hands up and you shut your mouth, “Look, you’re both adults, I don’t care what you do. Just, please, don’t tell me any of the sex details.”

“Do you really not care? Or like, you say I don’t care and then treat me like Cheryl in the front office?” you ask.

“No. I genuinely don’t give a shit. Well, I mean, if you break his heart I’ll have to kill you.”

“Naturally,” you agree with a solemn nod.

“But,” she pauses to take a breath, tilting her head before continuing, “it would probably be good for him, don’t think he’s had a real date in a while. But don’t come back to me broken-hearted if he’s a dick—that’s just his face.”

“A date?” you echo.

She groans and rolls her eyes at you, but it’s too late.

Your mind starts to wander. With Ellie’s blessing, you don’t have a reason not to give it a shot.

The harps are already strumming as you float off into your cloud of dissociation. Your favorite daydream flickers into focus as your eyes glaze over and a dazed grin curls on your face. It’s always that same slo-mo Baywatch-style memory. That one where you caught Joel wiping the sweat off his forehead with the bottom of his t-shirt. The original temptation that led you back to him.

Somehow, every time it replays, there’s a new easter egg just for you. The ghost of a knowing smirk or a sparkly-eyed wink when he catches your eye, like a wicked little tease to pull you deeper into the dream world.

Sometimes it’s all too visceral. In the privacy of your mind, you’re free to direct the scene how you’d like. Slowly panning over the peek of soft skin and the trail of hair you can see. You can still feel the warmth on your fingertips from when you slipped your hand beneath the waistband of those navy blue boxers.

Sometimes, you create something new. You’d like to take one of his sun-faded plastic green lawn chairs, drag it to the front porch, and sit yourself down for a show. You wanna watch him mow the grass in the evening heat.

You can see the sweat beads dotted along his neck and the contour of his marble-sculpted arms as he serpentines along your fantasy world front lawn.

You can smell the fresh-cut grass and the specific blend of sweaty man pheromones that Aphrodite concocted just for you.

Your chest swells, lungs expanding, as you breathe slowly and deeply. The illusory scents fill your lungs until you release a deep, yearnful sigh. The imaginary lawn mower almost drowns out the imaginary Fred Durst bellering, It’s just one of those days, from that little stereo on the workbench.

Before you can transition into another scenario—something bounces off your face, and you flinch with a loud yelp.

“That was your warning,” Ellie glares at you. “Next time I’m throwing something sharp.”

“Okay, okay, message received.” You offer a sheepish smile, and she turns around. It seems the Limp Bizkit song was very much not a figment of your imagination. Ellie mutters along to the lyrics behind you, barely audible, as you spin in your chair to get back to work.

It’s not even five minutes later when you swivel in your chair again with another question for Ellie.

There’s nothing like having a crush on a man you barely know to truly make you delusional. You know you’ve got it bad, but it’s unfortunately just so much fun to daydream and let your mind run wild with the very limited info you know about the man.

You don’t want to worry about anything that could go wrong.

Except for, well, everything.

You still fret over texting him first or waiting. Should you send another picture with no context? Should you call? Should you wait another day?

When you notice your chest feeling tight you give yourself a reality check. It’s Monday morning. You’re at work. He’s probably at work. You can figure it out later. A future you problem.

Joel’s text comes through late in the evening.

Joel: You wearing my shirt to bed again?

You’re grinning immediately. At hearing from him first and because he fucking clocked you. You snap a quick photo. Despite being on the spot, it’s thoughtfully crafted. Just enough to show the logo and only your mouth, not your face, no extra skin, no sexy tease. Just a confirmation. You send it off, and his reply buzzes seconds later.

Joel: More

You try to bite back the grin still stuck on your face as your fingers dance across the screen. You want to tell him off for being so blunt, but for some reason, it feels like such a compliment. You’ve definitely got it bad if a thirsty one-word text feels like high praise.

You aren’t going to give in this time. You’ve still got Ellie’s words echoing in your mind. A date. You type back one line.

You: Gonna have to earn it if you want more

Your phone rings shortly after your message is delivered. Joel’s name flashes on the screen and your stomach flips. You thought maybe he’d send another dick pic, but now he’s calling you? It does check out that he wouldn’t be the texting type, to be fair.

“Hey,” you answer, voice soft, a little tentative.

“You’re gonna make me work for it, huh?” His drawl is low, rough around the edges and so stupidly sexy it makes your nipples hard. You can just tell he’s already on edge. Delight floods your veins at the idea of him thinking of you all day.

“You could use a lesson in patience,” your voice is remarkably steady, despite the way your body is lit up. You chew at your lower lip. “Thought I told you that last time we were on the phone,” you chide.

A deep chuckle rumbles through the phone. “Patience,” he repeats. There’s a pause that has you holding your breath. “I don’t think you’re playin’ fair, baby. Knowing you’re in bed with my shirt on, teasin’ me with another picture.” His voice takes on a husky, knowing tone. “Don’t think it’s patience you’re lookin’ for. Bet I know what you really want.”

Your breath catches, loud enough he wouldn’t miss it even with his busted phone. You weren’t prepared to be so affected by just the timbre of his voice. It’s fucked up the way he’s got you breathless for no damn good reason.

You can picture him in his bed. The trademark navy blue sheets. Is he fresh out of the shower? Damp hair and the overpowering scent of whatever 10 in 1 man soap was on sale at the grocery store—

“Okay. Enlighten me then. What do I want?” you finally reply.

“You want to hear it,” he continues, smooth and smug, radiating a cocky smirk right through the phone that makes your skin tingle. “You want to hear how you’ve got me hard, sittin’ here thinkin’ about you,” Joel growls, his voice thick with heat. “Thinkin’ about you wearing just my shirt.”

You bite down on your lip to stay quiet. Maybe he’s not in bed at all. Maybe he’s still out in his shop, locked in the office, a couple beers down before he dared to text you. His hair a mess from running his fingers through it, in those faded jeans that cling to him perfectly.

Either way, it seems almost cruel to stop him with a mouth like that.

“Thinking about what I’d do if you were here,” he carries on. “You look good in my shirt.” His voice drops even lower. “You’d let me push it up though, wouldn’t you? Just enough so I can see how wet you are for me.”

You can’t help pressing your thighs together at that thought. If he hears how turned on you are already, you’re definitely going to end up acting out his fantasy over the phone.

“Fuck.” he mutters, his voice breaking. “You’d let me take my time. Get my hands on those perfect tits again. Soak my fingers with that sweet pussy. Have you so worked up you’d be begging for my cock.”

He says it like it’s a fact, as if he could come over right now and you’d drag him straight to your bed—or no, like you’d be on him before he could shut the front door.

It’s so filthy, so confident. You’re so tempted to keep him going, but you pull yourself together. Biting back the whimper stuck in your throat.

“Well, damn, Joel,” you swallow down the urge to ask for more details. “Guess you’ve got me all figured out then,” you tease with a heavy dash of sarcasm in your tone.

“Not all of you,” he replies, with a suggestive edge. “Not yet.”

You let out a breath you were holding. “Look, you can’t just get your dick out on the phone, tell me how you wanna touch me, and get your way,” you manage, steady and a little sharp. “Not this time.”

“Not this time?” he echoes, half-laughing, clearly amused. “Alright. Sure. What do you want then?”

There’s a flicker of nervousness that tightens in your chest. You don’t want him to think you’re rejecting him, don’t want to risk losing the momentum of whatever this is. “I’m saying…I do want you. But, if you want more you’re going to have to do more. Show me you mean it. Like…a date.”

He doesn’t answer immediately, and your heart skips as you imagine his reaction. He’s quiet, but you can hear his breathing—measured, like he’s weighing something.

“Shit. You’re serious?” he asks, and there’s a softness now, laced with just enough curiosity to make you think he’s intrigued.

“Dead serious,” you say, adding, “But if you’re not interested in me like that—”

“Oh, I’m interested.” The words come quick, a little sharper than you expect, and they make you beam. “Fine. A date,” he says, like he’s letting the word settle on his tongue. “Friday?”

“Friday.” You confirm and stretch your neck. Your muscles are tense. Shoulders tight. All from his filthy words getting you worked up in half a second and the anxiety of your demand. “Come up with something good,” you tease, your voice slipping into something sultrier, “and maybe we’ll both get what we want.”

There’s a low growl on the other end of the line, tinged with frustration and desire. It makes your pulse throb in your clit. You almost wish you had let him talk you through it before suggesting the date. Hear how worked up he’s been over you.

“Jesus,” he grumbles.

Oh, you would’ve turned into a mess and completely forgotten to bring it up. Now you’ve essentially cock blocked yourself until the end of the week. Ugh.

“You’re gonna drive me mad.” He says. But there’s no animosity in it. Instead, there’s something new in his voice that gives you butterflies.

“Yep.”

You’re the one who hangs up first before you can hear anything else that might tempt you to stray from your plan.

……..

It’s late morning when your phone buzzes on your desk the next day, interrupting your excellent cosplay of a ‘productive employee’. You glance at the screen and your heart trips when you see Joel’s name.

You answer, trying to sound casual despite the fluttery feeling in your chest. “Calling me during business hours, Mr. Miller? You’re going to get me in trouble.”

Joel snorts softly. “Think we both know you’re the one that likes causin’ trouble.”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

His voice drops lower, quieter. “You need a reminder? Cause I’ve been replaying exactly how much trouble you caused in my kitchen…”

“Don’t.” You nearly hiss into the phone, trying to cut him off before he starts with any graphic retellings. You spin in your chair, grateful when you confirm Ellie has headphones on for once.

“Right.” His voice is back to a slightly less devastatingly erotic tone. “Wouldn’t want to get carried away while you’re at work.

“Well,” he drawls, the grin evident in his voice now. “You said you wanted a date, so I was thinking.”

You hum, leaning into the teasing tone. “If it’s a chain restaurant I’m canceling right now.”

“Do I seem like the kind of guy who’d take you to Applebee’s?”

“Do you want me to answer that honestly?” you quip, laughing at the soft groan he makes in response. “No Applebee’s, no Chili’s, and if you’re thinking about taking me to whatever the fanciest Italian place is in this town, don’t. I’m not going on a first date where you used to take your ex-wife for anniversary dinners.”

There’s a beat of silence, then a grumbled, “It was Valentine’s, actually.”

You cackle, delighted at your guess. He huffs. “You’re impossible.”

“You’re predictable,” you shoot back, grinning as you cross your legs under your desk. “Or maybe it’s just ‘cause nobody has been challenging you.”

“S’that what you are?” he asks, “A challenge?”

You shift in your chair, the grin on your face is going to make your cheeks burn if he keeps this up. You soften the teasing as you admit. “Maybe a little.”

“Mm,” he grunts, clearly not convinced.

“If you’re up for it,” you add. Nerves flutter in your stomach now. Maybe he doesn’t want a challenge at all. It’s not like you’ve been hard to get. The silence stretches just long enough to make you wonder if you’ve pushed too far.

His exasperated sigh crackles through the phone, but it’s laced with something warmer. “Yeah.” But then he exhales, soft and almost self-conscious. “Ain’t a bad thing.”

The words are simple, but they settle somewhere deep, curling warm in your chest. For a moment, the flirty defense falls, and you catch the subtle weight in his voice.

“You’re full of surprises, Joel,” you say finally, your tone gentle.

“Guess you’ll find out,” he murmurs, the words quiet like he’s not sure he’s meant to say them.

Your stomach flutters at the unexpected softness. You knew there was more to him than his bold mouth when his dick is hard or the stoic lone wolf look he wears in his garage. You weren’t expecting him to be…whatever this is now.

The line goes quiet again, his breathing soft on the other end. “Friday at seven,” he says after a moment, his voice steady but quieter than before. “There’s a brewery that Tommy suggested. I’ll pick you up.”

“That sounds nice,” you reply, smiling into the phone.

“Alright,” he mutters. There’s a brief pause, like he’s hesitating, before he says, “See you then.”

He hangs up before you can say anything else, and for a moment, you’re left staring at your phone like an idiot. A grin stuck on your face. Possibly permanently.

It’s not just the idea of the date. It’s the thought of Joel making a plan, asking for recommendations, and thinking of what you might like. You figured it’d be fun to give him a hard time and all, but you didn’t have real expectations.

The week stretches on and you’re not sure if it’s moving too fast or too slow. Having a crush is wicked enough, but having a date planned makes you feel slightly insane. It’s like you’re in a cartoon where the world is suddenly brighter and the birds sing just for you.

You find yourself constantly daydreaming at work. Every Creed song Ellie plays somehow sends you into a fugue state. Snippets of Joel’s voice replay in your head.

There’s something about the way he said, “Ain’t a bad thing,” that keeps sneaking up on you when you least expect it. It wasn’t even what he said—it was how he said it. Quiet, like he wasn’t used to admitting something like that out loud. It makes you smile like a fool every time you think about it.

The worst is the evenings. At home in your room. Nothing to distract you. Alone with his t-shirt. Re-reading your brief texts. Lingering wistfully over the dick pic he sent like it’s a letter from your long-distance lover. You’ve got to get it together.

And Joel? He’s just as distracted, though he’d never admit it. At least not to anyone but you.

At work, his usual rhythm is thrown completely out of whack. He catches himself staring at the same invoice three times before finally filing it away. Tommy catches him with his Breaking Benjamin t-shirt inside out.

You’re in his head and it’s driving him nuts. He tried to minimize it. Deciding it was just the impulsive way you crashed into his world. You spread like a wildfire in his mind. The kindness in you to deliver a homemade meal. The audaciousness you have to go after what you want.

He goes weak for a confident woman and you’re so sharp and quick with him. It’s a rush, but not just because of the sexual chemistry. Not just because you’re a novelty or a break in his routine.

It’s you. It’s the way you’ve got the passion and sharpness with your words, but you’re still soft on the edges. He thinks about the way your voice had dipped when you said, “If you’re up for it,” like you weren’t just teasing but testing something, seeing if he’d push you away.

He’s not used to this. Not the nerves, not the anticipation, and definitely not the way he’s spending too much time wondering what to wear on Friday. Not that he’d ever admit it, but he even dug through the back of his closet, holding up a button-down shirt Ellie had bought him last Christmas like it might bite him. He ends up tossing it back in favor of flannel—it’s still a step up from a faded band t-shirt.

By Thursday you’re nearly useless. You drive Ellie crazy all morning, spacing out and jumping when she asks you a question. To be respectful, you haven’t mentioned the date and she hasn’t asked. Would Joel have told her? Does she know you’re losing your mind over a man who probably has holes in his sweatpants? Are you equally as pathetic?

You’re still stuck on that thought when she kicks your chair, startling you back to reality. “Come on,” she demands. “We’re outta here and you’re coming to the Main Street with me. I’ll buy.”

Turns out you’re a cheap date. The dive bar has strong cocktails and a very limited menu of fried foods to choose from. You sit outside at a picnic table enjoying the warmth of the early summer evening.

Ellie is easy to get along with. Talking animatedly about her friends. Sharing the hot goss about Cheryl and her divorce. Trying to recruit you to join the company rec league kickball team. It’s all a welcome distraction even though you still have Joel on the brain.

You do your best not to bring him up but when she mentions him you know you perk up like a heart-eyed fool. Begrudgingly, but with sincerity, Ellie asks if the date is what’s got you so distracted.

“How did you know?”

“You’re both worse than teenagers.” She rolls her eyes. “Thought bringing you here might take your mind off it.”

You snap to attention at her choice of words. “Both?”

“Don’t.”

She’s a good friend. You did need the distraction. You’re still smiling about that thought as you check yourself out in the mirror in the bathroom at the bar. There’s a poster taped to the paper towel dispenser for the cover band that plays Saturday nights that catches your eye before you slip your phone out of your pocket.

You’d blame it on the drinks but the truth is only had one. You hover over the messages. Wondering if he’s really as nervous as you. Fuck it, you decide before sending what you’ve been wondering.

You: You been thinking about me?

His message comes through so fast it’s more revealing than the words he typed.

Joel: Maybe

Fuck, why does one word have you feeling giddy already?

Joel: Have you?

He asks shortly after. You wonder if he’s second guessing himself. Is Joel nervous?

You: A little

You figure you’ll give him the same treatment.

Joel: Haven’t been able to stop, if I’m honest baby

Heat floods your face as you stare at the screen, and his next message comes before you can respond.

Joel: Friday’s been feeling real far away

That has you shaking your head.

You: Patience is a virtue

He’s quick to respond again.

Joel: Never claimed to be a saintly man

That makes you genuinely laugh.

You: Good

……

By the time Friday night rolls around, you’ve fully spiraled into a mess of anxiety and excitement. You’re not really the type to overthink a date, but there’s something about the whole scenario that feels different. It’s not just because Joel’s hot—hotter than he has any right to be—but he’s trying. For you. It’s disarming in a way you weren’t expecting.

You know that the worst-case scenario for the night isn’t bad. You know how to have a good time wherever you are and you are confident that he’s a horny bastard that will put out even if you actively try to sabotage the date. It’s that flickering sensation in your chest that hopes for more. That’s what makes you nervous.

You’re startled when Joel knocks at your front door. You check your reflection one last time before heading to the door. You figure it’s casual enough for a first date at a brewery.

Despite everything inside of you that screamed to put your tits on display again—you couldn’t resist wearing the Creed shirt. You tied it up in the front so it accentuates your figure and paired it with a faux leather skirt with a matching black lace set underneath.

It’s gotta be enough to play at the alt-rock vibe he’s still living in. You look good. Really good.

But when you open the door he isn’t the only one who’s world gets rocked. Joel stands in front of you like he was plucked from your fantasy. Freshly showered, his damp curls just starting to dry in soft waves. A plaid button-down shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off those strong, tan forearms. His dark jeans are markedly not as worn down as the last pair you saw him in, yet the effect on you is just as dastardly.

It’s unfair, really, how good he looks. You’re left blinking as your mouth goes a little dry while you drink him in. Who’s idea was it to have a date? In public? Fuck. He shifts, a sly smile growing on his face as he rests his hip against the door jam.

“Hi,” you mumble, still ogling him.

“You look… real nice,” he says, voice so low and velvety it should be registered as a weapon.

You know you had a smart-ass remark about the shirt on the tip of your tongue, but it’s gone. Gone… along with your morals. All you’ve got left is the intense, primal desire to do something inappropriate with his arms? Yes! Yes! Yes! The horny gremlins like your idea despite having no logistics or master plan.

They seem to have no coherent plan of attack at all, to be honest. Bite! Lick! Suck! All you know is that you need him in your mouth until your jaw is sore.

Joel huffs softly. Amused that you seem speechless. “Didn’t think flannel was all that special baby, you alright?”

“It’s not the flannel,” you mutter under your breath, but you don't let him hear the rest of that thought: Arms! Arms! Arms!

You grab your bag and follow him out to the truck, stealing glances at him as he walks ahead of you. You can’t help it. He’s so…solid. Sturdy. Sure of himself. Even when he’s out of his comfort zone. It’s doing something sinful to you.

The inside of the truck smells faintly like a Black Ice air freshener, a Home Depot on a Sunday morning, and Armor All. The distinctly Joel aesthetic lives up to your imagination. It’s lived in. Comfortable.

There’s the catchall cupholder of change, receipts, and literal nuts and bolts. The caseless CDs in the storage divider strapped to the sun visor—you recognize a couple like Seether and Three Days Grace.

Before you can take in every detail though, you’re distracted by just the sight of him driving. It’s absurd, but why does he look this good just driving? Most people can manage to operate a vehicle, but most people don’t look as fuckable as Joel does, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh. Hand! Thigh! Neck! Fingers!

You’re reduced to only being able to name anatomical features when you’re this close to him, apparently. Like an alien learning about a man for the first time. An extraterrestrial explorer propelled by the most curious desire to taste and touch every part of Joel—for research.

You’re so caught up that it takes a while to register the song that’s playing. Of course, it’s more Nickelback.

You're so much cooler

When you never pull it out

Cause you look so much cuter

With something in your mouth

It breaks the spell he has on you and you laugh, really laugh. Joel looks slightly horrified, having no idea what led to your outburst. When you’ve recovered enough, you let him in on it.

“Nice first date song. You really know how to set the mood.”

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t change the song, and you let yourself glance at him again as he drives. His profile glows in the evening sun, and you can’t help thinking how easy it would be to reach over and drag your hand down his chest, and make him pull over so you could climb into his lap. The thought has you pressing your thighs together, your pulse thrumming in your ears. At this rate you’re not going to make it through the night.

…..

The brewery is trendy. Joel hopes it’s something you like. He tries to focus on the menu, but feels like his brain is short-circuiting. It’s not the overpriced burgers or the craft beers with descriptors that don’t sound like flavors. It’s the way you're leaning forward on your elbows, chin resting in your hand, smile tugging at your lips.

The shirt is unfair. The way you’ve got it tied, hugging your body in ways that make his palms itch. Knowing you were touching yourself in the same shirt to the sound of his voice. He’s trying not to stare, trying to be polite, but it’s damn near impossible with you sitting across from him like that.

“How about this one?” you say, pointing to an option on the menu. “Probably the closest thing to what you’ve got stocked in the shop fridge.” He’d wonder how you knew what he had in the fridge, but his eyes are glued to your finger pointing at the menu and it’s consuming all of his thoughts.

You ramble on about a few other choices but he doesn’t hear the words. He’s still stuck on your hand. He swears he can still feel the ghost of your touch from the kitchen last week. Shit. His jeans are already feeling tighter than they should.

He clears his throat, trying to pull it together. “I’ll trust you.”

You smile wide at that. He’s so fucked. “You know a lot about fancy beer.” Yikes. “You got a favorite on here?” Get it together, he begs himself.

“Nah, I don’t really like beer,” you say casually. You give him a shrug and point out a cider you’re thinking about trying. His stomach twists.

“You don’t like beer,” he repeats. “But, you let me take you to a brewery?” His chest feels tight, and he shifts uncomfortably.

“They have food, too.” you counter.

“Right.” Why does he feel like he’s so out of his element? He’s been second-guessing everything about this date. He feels his gaze drifting as his eyes shift out of focus, his fingers toy with his bottom lip as he gets lost in his head.

He knows he can get you worked up just as bad as him over the phone, knows he can make you sing for him with just his fingers, but this? He doesn’t know what you want from him now. Is the date some kind of test? He knows he’s overthinking all of it.

“Hey.” Your voice brings him back, pulling him out of his thoughts. “I like that you planned something.”

It seems genuine. The way you look at him with bright eyes and a smirk like you’ve got something to tease him about on the tip of your tongue. “Now ask me a boring first date question,” you instruct with a nod like you’re giving him some kind of permission.

“What’s your favorite color?”

You snort laughing at him. If you’re half as nervous as him you don’t show it.

….

It works. Mostly. Your drinks arrive. The conversation flows more easily. He still gets tripped up here and there but doesn’t disappear on you again. He asks about your job, your family, about where you moved from, and you give him enough to keep things light but still playfully dodge some of his questions.

Every time he gets flustered, you catch yourself smiling, a little surprised at how much you’re enjoying this. It’s the way he watches you like he’s trying to figure you out. The way he tries. He seems to relax a little and for a moment, you think he might settle into the evening.

Then he reaches for his water, and it all goes sideways. The dangerously full glass wobbles, tilting just enough to spill halfway across the table. Joel jerks back, cursing dejectedly under his breath as he grabs a napkin to clean it up.

You can’t help it. The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. Just loud enough for him to hear. “Trying to get me wet already?”

His eyes snap to yours. You grin, adding, “Don’t worry, been dripping for you since you showed up at my front door.”

He makes a sound between a cough and a choke. Stunned. The faintest blush creeps up his neck, reaching all the way to his ears. For a second, he looks like he might say something, but all he manages to get out is a gruff, “Jesus.”

You lean back in your chair, grinning triumphantly. You didn’t expect him to get so rattled by your comment. Not with how vulgar he’s been on the phone or when he had his hand between your legs. It’s an ego boost to know you’ve got the upper hand at first.

“Relax,” you purr.

Then you catch the way he discreetly tries to adjust himself under the table. Clearly unable to relieve the pressure. Knowing the effect you have on him is more intoxicating than the alcohol. An idea strikes you. You know exactly how to get him to relax.

“Do you have cash?” you ask.

“What? Yeah.” He looks at you confused.

You nod like he proved a point by saying yes. That confuses him further, a deep line forming between his brows.

“‘Course you do. That’s like, Dad 101 ‘carry cash in case of emergency’.

You stand and grab your bag. “We’re not staying,” you say simply.

“What?” He frowns, sitting up straighter.

You flash him a smile. “I’ve got a better idea. Come on. You said you trust me.”

“To choose a beer,” he grumbles, dropping enough cash for a generous tip on the table before letting you lead. He doesn’t argue as you walk back to the truck, just trying to catch up with your words. He opens the passenger door for you, his hand brushing yours briefly as you climb into the truck. It’s a small thing, but the innocence makes your pulse skip all the same.

Once he’s in the driver’s seat, the tension between you shifts. The silence isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s charged. You glance at him, taking in the way his hands grip the steering wheel so tightly, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he shifts.

The truck rumbles to life and another one of the horniest Nickelback songs plays—barely loud enough to recognize.

I’m loving what you wanna wear

I wonder what’s up under there

Wonder if I’ll ever have it under my tongue

You bite back another laugh as the vocals float through the cab, perfectly at odds with the vibe of the place you just left. Joel shifts, mouth twitching like he knows how ridiculous it is. “You wanna tell me where we’re headed?” he asks, voice cutting through your thoughts.

You tell him where to drive and settle back in your seat. Again your thoughts drift. Infatuated with his fingers curling and uncurling like he’s trying to distract himself. He hasn’t said much since you’ve left, but you can feel the tension radiating off him. Heavy and thick.

You catch his gaze flicker to you for the third time in as many minutes. His eyes trail over the curve of your thighs where your skirt has ridden up. It’s subtle, but enough to make you feel bold.

You smirk, pulling the visor down to check your reflection in the mirror. Fishing a lip gloss out from your bag, you swipe it over your lips, smoothing the edges with your fingertip. Joel doesn’t say anything, but you don’t miss the deep steadying breath that fills his lungs or the crack of his knuckles.

Satisfied with your lips, you tug lightly at the t-shirt, adjusting the knot, shifting the fabric to lay how you like and slipping a hand beneath it to adjust your tits in your lacy bra. You hear Joel exhale sharply, a low, throaty sound that makes heat curl low in your stomach.

“You okay?” you ask, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. Your voice is softer now, more knowing, and when he doesn’t answer right away, you grin. “You seem tense.”

Joel mutters something under his breath. His jaw tightens. Finally, he glances at you, his eyes dark. “You keep doin’ that, and we’re gonna have a problem, baby.”

“Doing what?” you ask, your voice all innocence, though his threat gives you a prickly rush.

Joel huffs a laugh, low and rough. “You know damn well.” His voice dips, a rasp of heat that whips down your spine. “The lips and the shirt, just messin’ with me like you want me to lose my fuckin’ mind.”

Your grin widens as you meet his gaze. “And what if I do?”

“Jesus,” he mutters, his voice strained, his hand flexing against the wheel. “Trying to get me to crash into a ditch or something?”

The tension between you is unbearable now, the air thick and buzzing. Joel’s jaw is clenched tightly. You unabashedly linger on the way his hips press forward slightly like he’s trying to relieve the ache between his legs. It shouldn’t drive you fucking wild with need, but you’re gripped mind, pussy, and soul.

“Pull over,” you say suddenly, your tone steady.

Joel’s head snaps toward you, incredulous.

“Pull over,” you repeat, your voice softer now, more insistent. “Please.”

He hesitates for only a second before caving, steering the truck onto the shoulder. The tires crunch against the gravel as he shifts into park, the engine idling low as he turns to look at you. His eyes are dark, his breathing uneven, and the sight of him—wrecked and barely holding it together—makes you rabid.

“You’re gonna kill me,” his voice is rough and quiet. Infused with lust and awe.

“Maybe,” you murmur, leaning closer. “But you’ll enjoy it.”

Joel groans softly, his hand flying to your thigh, the heat of his palm searing against your skin. “Torturing me,” he mutters, his voice a low growl. “Sitting there lookin’ like that, knowing damn well what you’re doin’ to me.”

“Yeah?” you ask, your breath hitching as his fingers slide higher. “What am I doing to you, Joel?”

He exhales sharply, his grip on your thigh tightening. Why are his hands that big? Like, how are you supposed to know what they feel like and ever leave his grasp?

Your heart is pounding now, the heat in your veins making it hard to think straight. Joel’s voice drops lower, his hand sliding further up your thigh as he leans closer.

“Can’t stop thinkin’ about it,” he mutters, his lips ghosting over your jaw. “The way you’d taste, the way you’d sound, begging me to fuck you harder, deeper—”

“Joel,” you whisper, cutting him off. Your voice is shaky, your hands gripping his arm as you try to ground yourself. “Please.”

He groans again, the sound rough and desperate, and his hand moves higher, his fingers brushing the edge of your underwear. “Yeah, baby,” he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. “That’s what I wanna hear.”

It makes you shudder. You feel him smile at your body's obvious responses, as his nose grazes your skin just below your ear.

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect,” he murmurs into your neck. “Been thinkin’ about you all damn week. Every time I close my eyes, it’s you.”

His words hit like a match to dry kindling, and your breath stutters as his fingers trace the seam of your panties.

“You know how hard it was to sit there at that table?” he mutters, his voice turning darker. “With you looking like this, wearing my clothes, teasin’ me.”

“We didn’t even make it to the actual dinner part,” you giggle as you trail off.

His fingers press more firmly, dragging slowly over the thin fabric, and you can’t stop the gasp that escapes your lips. Joel groans at the sound, his free hand gripping your thigh to hold you steady.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, his voice thick with heat. “You’re already soaked. Bet I could make you come like this, right here, without even tryin’.”

Your hips shift instinctively, grinding against his hand as he works you with deliberate precision. The friction is maddening, just enough to keep you on edge, but not enough to send you over. Every filthy word he says in your ear has you burning up.

“Jesus, you’re gonna sound so fuckin’ sweet for me,” he says, more to himself. “Can’t wait to bury my face between your legs, make you scream my name until your throat’s raw.”

“Joel,” you whisper, your voice shaky, your hand flying to his wrist as his fingers dip lower, brushing just beneath the edge of your panties. “Wait.”

He freezes instantly, his brow furrowing as he looks at you. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, your cheeks flushed, your body still trembling under his touch. “Not now,” you assert, your voice soft but steady. “Let me take care of you.”

Joel blinks, his pupils blown wide as your words sink in. His mouth parts to say something but the words disappear. You don’t let him argue.

Sliding your hand down to his belt, you undo it hastily, fingers working open the button of his jeans before he can protest. It’s for him. You want to do this for him. Help him relax so you can enjoy the rest of your date.

But, fuck, it’s also for you. You’ve been riding a high just from a shoddy dick pic and your muscle memory, but you’ve been patient long enough. You’ve got to see it in person and you need it in your mouth, asap. You deserve that much, right?

You slide down the zipper and fuss with the waistband until you get what you wanted. His breath catches as you free his cock. It’s heavy and hard against your palm. Radiating heat and weeping for you.

“Oh, fuck,” he starts, his voice breaking.

You hum softly, pleased, leaning in to kiss him as your hand strokes him slowly, deliberately. Joel groans against your mouth, his hips jerking slightly into your hand.

“You’ve been thinking about this,” you murmur against his lips. “All week.”

“Yeah,” he rasps, voice raw with want. “Can’t stop thinking about you. How you’d feel, how you’d look, how you’d sound.”

“Show me,” you whisper, lowering your head to taste for yourself. You like a hot stripe from the base of his cock to the tip, swirling your tongue around the head.

Joel’s breath stutters, his hand flying to the back of your head as he watches you. “You’re so fucking good, baby. Like a fucking dream.”

You hollow your cheeks, tongue gliding along his length as you take him into the heat of your mouth. You have to use your hands to work the rest of him, still slowly and deliberately. Every sound he makes, every twitch against your tongue, every flex of his core, and tightening of his fingers, it all drives you wild.

It has you moaning with need around him. Your cunt soaked and pulsing, begging for attention between your legs as you focus all on him. It’s just as much for you as it is for him.

His head tips back against the seat, a rumbling grown spilling from his lips as his hips shift beneath you.

“Shit.” he pants, voice cracking. “You’re gonna make come so fuckin’ hard. Bet you’d look so pretty with my come on your tongue.”

The sheer filth of his words spurs you on, your movements quickening as you savor every groan, curse, and sharp inhale from him. “Fuck—just like that.” He encourages you, adding firm pressure to the back of your head as his hips jerk and he loses control.

“You want it?” he asks desperately as you moan in affirmation. You’re voice is still vibrating through him as he starts to come, hot and heavy on your tongue. You don’t stop until his body goes slack beneath you, his chest heaving as you finally pull back.

He looks wrecked, mouth hanging open, sweat on his brow. You give him a devilish smile before opening your mouth to show him. He stares at you, eyes dark and hazy, before cupping your jaw in his palm as you swallow.

“Told you,” he huffs, “so fucking pretty with my come on your tongue.” A bright, satisfied smile spreads on your face at his praise. He pulls you in closer for a kiss. When you pull back a frown pulls at your mouth.

“What’s wrong?” Joel asks hurriedly.

“I didn’t get to see,” you muse. “Will you take a picture next time?”

“Fuck,” he looks at you with awe and pride. “Yeah, baby, of course.”

“Good,” you nod, readjusting and settling back into your seat. “You think you can relax a little now?” you ask, tone teasing.

Joel lets out a breathless laugh. He drags his hand down his face. “You’re unreal,” he mutters, voice still hoarse. The phrase makes you beam with pride. It’s the same remark he made over the phone last week…right before he said ‘got me shooting loads like a fucking teenager’.”

The gratification just from seeing him this wrecked is like a drug. He’s every bit as enticing and addicting as you hoped and feared. You squeeze your thighs together once more and take a deep breath. Committed to the rest of your idea for saving your first date with the divorced DILF of your dreams.

“Back on the road. We’ve got places to be.”

Joel blinks at you, still trying to catch his breath. “You’re serious?”

“Yep,” you smile lazily, tugging gently at his arm. “Drive.”

He shakes his head, muttering something under his breath about you being the death of him, but he shifts the truck into gear, his hand lingering on your thigh as he pulls back onto the road.

THANK YOU FOR READING PLEASE TELL ME IF YOU ENJOYED OR HATED ANY OF IT <3

dividers by @/cyberangel-graphics

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #divorced dad rock dilf joel #creed!joel #pedro pascal character fanfic

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arieslost · 10 months ago

Text

home to you | op81

oscar piastri x fem!reader

summary: oscar does what he should’ve done a long time ago.

word count: 2,978

warnings: healing sunburn right at the beginning, a touch of angst

masterlist — join my tag list here!

this is a PART TWO! read part one here :)

Your sunburn is peeling.

Oscar’s been watching you absentmindedly pick at it for the last ten minutes as you recount your day to him. He’s paying attention to what you’re saying, of course, but now he’s worried that you might accidentally hurt yourself.

“Stop doing that,” he says when you pause to catch your breath, reaching for his phone as if he could put his hand through and stop you himself.

“What?” You frown, and then look at your shoulder. “Oh, right. It’s weirdly satisfying though.”

“This is why you can’t go to the beach by yourself.” Oscar sighs. “You never put on enough sunscreen.”

“I know,” you reply quietly.

As much as both of you have tried, neither of you can help the awkward undertones that seep into every silence you share now. Oscar knows you love him, and you know that he doesn’t feel the same way.

You think he doesn’t feel the same way.

When he saw that look on your face that morning in the kitchen, it reminded him of the way he stared at you on prom night. Oscar didn’t get asked to the senior prom, but you did, and you had turned the offer down. Oscar asked you why, and you told him that you only wanted to go with him, otherwise you weren’t going. You’d dragged him back and forth from your table to the dance floor all night long, and it all would’ve faded into the mush of fleeting high school memories if your favorite song hadn’t come on. Oscar remembers every detail of how your eyes lit up, how you cried, “I love this song!” even though he knew you did, and how you’d grabbed his hands and started dancing with a refreshed energy. He felt like time had stopped and his world revolved around you, and it felt right.

So yeah, he knew the moment you gave him that look that not only did he still love you, but you finally, finally felt the same way. And, for the second time, he’d epically fucked it up.

He often wishes that he could go back and confess to you like he wanted to that night. You’d stayed over because you were too tired to drive home. You were both single. It was the perfect time. But now it’s four years later and he’s sitting in the hotel bathroom on the other side of the world, his girlfriend asleep in the hotel bed, and you on the other end of his phone screen picking at your sunburn that he could’ve prevented had he spent more time with you on vacation.

“You doing okay, Osc?” You ask, pulling on a hoodie of his that you stole from him before he left for his very first F1 race. “Aside from the races, I mean. I know you’re doing great with those.”

“Yeah, I’m alright.” The words come out with practiced ease. “I’d rather hear about how you’re doing though.” I miss you like you wouldn’t believe.

“I think I’ve told you everything like five times now,” you giggle. “I could tell you about the guy that came up to me in the grocery store this afternoon and took a painstakingly long time to ask for my number, but that’s not a long story.”

Oscar’s heart stops. “What?” He replies, teeth gritted, before he clears his throat and lightens his tone. “I mean, what?”

“Yeah, it was kind of strange. He started the conversation by asking me how you were doing, obviously, because you’re so cool and famous-” Oscar flips you off when you roll your eyes, and you laugh. “Anyway, I guess that was his icebreaker, because then he just abruptly segued into grilling me right there in the cereal aisle about my life and how he ‘couldn’t believe he’d never seen me before.’” You recount dramatically. “I’m telling you, Osc, it was nonstop cheesy line after cheesy line. I felt so bad for him I let him have my number.”

“So, he used me as an in and then harassed you until you gave him your number?”

You nod slowly. “Pretty much.”

“You better not actually be considering going out with this guy.” Oscar scoffs.

“Oh, no, I’m not!” You rush to clarify, and he can see a faint blush rising on your cheeks. “I mean, it’s not like I’m waiting for anyone-anything. He was just weird. I only gave him my number so he’d leave me alone… I blocked him when he texted me.”

“You’re horrible,” he starts laughing now, relieved that this guy never even stood a chance. “I love it.”

“You’re supposed to be encouraging me to get out there and find a boyfriend, loser. Brush up on the best friend manual.” You complain, pulling the hood over your head and hiding your face from him so he can’t see how much it hurts to think about finding someone that isn’t him.

He doesn’t notice anyway; he’s distracted by the sound of the covers moving and his girlfriend yawning.

You hear it too, and glance up at the camera. “You have to go?”

His heart breaks at how sad you look. “Yeah, sounds like she’s actually waking up this time. Sorry, honey.”

You shrug, and he knows you’re trying to appear unbothered. “It’s okay. We got, what, an hour and a half? That’s a whole extra 45 minutes or so.”

“You’re allowed to tell me how you really feel, y’know.”

“Damn it, Oscar. You just see right through me. I don’t know why I even bother.” You sigh, covering your face with your hands.

“I don’t know why, either,” he attempts to joke. “Look, I-”

“Oscar? Where are you?” His girlfriend calls, and you stiffen up at the sound of her voice.

“Be there in a minute!” He responds, turning his attention back to you. “I’ll call you again as soon as possible, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Bye, honey.”

“Bye, Osc.”

You hang up first.

“I love you,” he whispers to his blank phone screen, and gets up to start his day.

You say it back to your own blank screen and go to sleep.

Oscar comes to the steadfast conclusion that he wants you and only you at his side at his home race, and not as a friend.

Breaking up with his girlfriend still looms over him. He lies awake for way too long at night trying to figure out the nicest way to do it, but his thoughts always end up taking a detour to you and how he wishes it was you sleeping next to him instead.

Despite the struggle going on in his mind, he goes through the motions of PDA with her for all the cameras and other drivers in the paddock to see. Lando is the only one who realizes what his issue is.

“Mate, you have to figure this out.” The older driver said out of the blue as they were lounging in McLaren hospitality after qualifying.

“Huh?” Oscar frowned at him, tearing his eyes away from his texts with you. “I know I fucked up that quali, but it’s not like I can’t improve.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about, you muppet.” Lando rolled his eyes, and said your name like it’s obvious. “You just have to break up with the girl you’re with now so you can have the girl you really want.”

“You say that like it’s so simple.” Oscar mumbled, looking at the text from you that had just come in.

Just focus on the race, Osc. Quali’s behind you, it doesn’t matter anymore. I’ll be cheering you on, what could possibly go wrong??

“It is, if you think about it. Besides, you’ve been acting so weird lately she might already think something’s up.”

“Gee, thanks. That makes me feel a lot better.” Oscar groaned, sinking lower into his chair.

“Always here for you, mate.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“I don’t care.”

That enlightening conversation gets Oscar to finally work up the courage to tell his girlfriend those dreaded words following the race– “We need to talk.”

He waits until they’re in the hotel room after dinner to say it so there’s no audience, primarily because he knows that she’s prone to throwing fits when things don’t go her way. The memory of her losing her mind when he took you to breakfast during vacation comes screaming back to him at the speed of light.

She doesn’t say anything at first; instead, she takes her time removing her shoes and taking the pins out of her hair. Oscar can’t stand the silence, so he starts speaking again.

“It’s about-”

“I think I know what this is about.” She interrupts him.

“You do?”

“I’d have to be stupid not to know, Oscar. You’ve been off for the past few days, it’s only with me, and every time I wake up you’re hiding in the bathroom on the phone.” She holds up a hand when he opens his mouth. “I know it’s her, and I’ve known since that vacation. You don’t have to tell me.”

“You’re… you’re not gonna yell?” He can’t hide the surprise in his voice.

“It won’t get me anywhere, will it?”

“It never did.”

She smiles matter-of-factly. “I guess I have to work on that.”

She packs her things without argument. Oscar offers to buy her a plane ticket somewhere, but she waves him off and thanks him anyway before walking out the door.

The Australian Grand Prix is in two weeks. Oscar doesn’t think before he calls you.

“I’m coming home. I need to see you.”

Your heart has been in your throat ever since Oscar called you this morning. He was so hasty that he didn’t even tell you when he was coming, so every little movement you see outside your window has you running to see if it’s him or not.

He doesn’t show up until almost 9:30 at night. You can hear the engine of his car as he flies through your neighborhood with practiced ease and nearly drifts into your driveway. Your stomach is jumping with nerves and excitement; you didn’t think you’d see him for another two weeks, and despite the awkwardness that your feelings have brought to your friendship, you want nothing more than to hug your best friend.

He starts impatiently knocking on the door as you nearly trip down the stairwell in your rush to let him in.

“Hold on!” You shout, fingers shaking as you unlock the door and wrench it open. “Are you trying to break my door?”

“Jokes later, let me hold you,” he says, reaching for you and meeting you in the middle of the doorway as he pulls you into his chest for a tight embrace.

You melt into him immediately, your arms wrapped around his neck and your nose pressed to the warm skin that peeks out of his hoodie. “I can’t believe you’re here,” you mumble, squeezing him.

He shivers, kissing the top of your head. “I’m here, baby.”

I’m sorry, baby. You think about that so much that it shouldn’t hurt anymore. It sobers your mood a little.

“Why, though?” You ask, pulling away a little to look at him. “Don’t you have things to be doing?”

“I may have forced them to clear my schedule by coming home without telling anyone.”

“Oscar!” You exclaim. “Why? You could get in trouble!”

“Can we talk inside?”

“Yeah, of course. C’mon.” You take his hand and lead him into your house.

He takes off his shoes, leaves his suitcase in the hall, and goes to your living room on autopilot, where he flops down on the couch and lets out a long breath. You sit next to him, knees bumping together as you look at him with a reasonable amount of concern. “You’re acting weird. What’s wrong with you?”

“I broke up with her.” He says, rolling his head to the side so he’s looking at you. “So, nothing’s wrong with me.”

“Bullshit, Osc, it seemed to me like you really liked her.”

“You didn’t, though.”

“Who cares what I think?” Your brain fully computes his words. “Wait- actually, no. I’m not even going to act surprised by the fact that you knew that.” You sigh.

“I care what you think. I care about you. A lot.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I don’t think you do.” He sits up straighter now, turning his whole body to face you. “Like, in a romantic way.”

You blink at him a couple times. “No you don’t.”

“I don’t?” He repeats incredulously.

“You can’t. You don’t.” You say. “You’re lying.”

“I’m lying?” He says through a laugh. “You’ve known me your whole life. When have I ever lied to you?”

You press your lips together. The only time he’s ever lied to you is when he planned your surprise parties. “I’m gonna need you to do a really good job explaining yourself, otherwise I’m kicking you out. You can’t do this to me, Oscar, you know how I feel-”

“Yes, I do, and I’d love to explain if you’d stop spiraling for a second.” He interrupts, taking your hands to ground you.

You’re once again having the dilemma of wanting to push him away and pull him closer simultaneously. The pressure of his hands holding yours succeeds in calming you, so you allow it.

“The whole reason I knew how you felt in the first place is because of the way you looked at me in the kitchen. You didn’t notice, but I looked at you the exact same way at the prom.” He says, gauging your reaction by how your face contorts slightly as you try to remember the prom at all, aside from the fleeting memory of forcing him to slow dance with you. “That feeling like time stops? Like-”

“Like I got hit by a truck,” you recall, looking down as he runs his thumbs over your knuckles.

“Right.” He nods. “Look, the bottom line here is that I screwed up by not telling you then, and if I had, we would’ve been dating for years at this point and this conversation wouldn’t even be happening.”

You feel like you look like a fish out of water with how your jaw is opening and closing, searching for something to say in response. “Osc-”

“If this makes you change your mind, I get it.” He continues. “But the whole reason I came here is to tell you that I love you. I’m in love with you and I have been since we were 18.”

You go to muster up something to say in response when he says one more thing. “Oh, and I’m tired of only being able to see you through the phone. That’s the other reason.”

You can’t help it– that, paired with his polite cat smile, his flushed cheeks, and his confession has you dissolving into giggles. That quickly morphs into laughter that sends you leaning so far forward your head is practically in Oscar’s lap, but he doesn’t seem to mind because he’s laughing too.

“I hate you so much,” you gasp out, pushing yourself back up so you can look at him when you tell him the complete and total truth. “I’ve been in love with you since we were 14.”

“Shit, that means I have eight years to make up for, not four.”

“Sucks to suck.” You say, easily falling back into your age-old banter.

“You sound like Lando,” he says, wrinkling his nose. “And I was gonna ask if I could kiss you.”

“Ah, shoot. I ruined it.”

“Hmm, no. I’m gonna ask you anyway.” He shifts closer to you, brushing your hair out of your face with both hands. “Can I kiss you? Please?”

You start nodding before he even finishes asking, maybe too enthusiastically, but it’s Oscar. He knows you. He wants you. You don’t need to be embarrassed.

The press of his lips against yours is soft, gentle. You always thought that if you ever kissed Oscar it might be too weird, but the only thing you feel now is right.

It feels right to thread your fingers into his hair. It feels right to let him tug you closer, closer, closer, until you have no choice but to straddle him so you can be as close as he wants you. It feels right when his hands slip under your shirt and lightly run over the skin of your back, when his tongue meets yours, when you give his hair an experimental tug and he moans into your mouth.

The only thing wrong about it is that you have no choice but to break the kiss in order to breathe, but even then you don’t move far from each other, breaths mixing in the minimal space between you both.

“We could have been doing that for a long time,” Oscar sighs, throwing his head back against the couch.

“We have all the time in the world now that we stopped being idiots and confessed.” You point out.

“D’you think you can come to the race in a couple weeks? We can take it slow with this, no one needs to know… I just want you to be there.” He asks.

“Of course, Osc, are you kidding?” You run your hands over his shoulders and down to where his hands rest on your hips. “Though, if you win, I can’t promise no PDA or anything.”

“I’d expect nothing less from my girlfriend.” You can feel him tense up a little, like he’s expecting you to react negatively, but he relaxes immediately when your smile lights up your whole face and you kiss him again.

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips.

“I love you,” you whisper back.

No one else needs to hear it just yet. You only need to tell each other.

note: i sincerely hope this made up for any tears i may have caused with the angst in the first part. this is the first time i’ve ever been inspired to write a part 2, and i think it’s because i desperately needed it to end happily. thank you so much for all the love on falling for you; i never expected it to get as much attention as it did!

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika !

tags (i’m sorry if i couldn’t tag you!): @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @niallerswolf @fangirl-dot-com @hood-jabi @vellicora @k-pevensie28 @cami26cami @arian-directioner @vildetry06 @hauntedphotographybookstaco @bigheartsthings @northpizzasposts @notturlover @riv3rbank @gesfjjsl @oliveisunstable @lily1sposts @sadbut-true0 @lilcowboy0 @alltoowelltaylor @kimis-gloves @superheroreader @alexmarie29 @anedpev @lalalaphie @waitingforsmartpeople @arrowenchantress @zillygoose @its-cat-eyes @gxllumsriddles @fionaschicken @mrsgeorgerussell63 @bre013 @lizzypiastri @blldsnjs @samantha-chicago @homosexualjohnwayne @opheliabluewolff @catbat011 @drivelikeiido @what-is-happening-helpp @decafmickey @tania2748 @steviesscoops @annahowardsworld

#full fic #op81 week #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #op81 imagine #op81 x reader #op81 fluff

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checkeredflagggs · 3 months ago

Text

Subject of Interest

pairing: carlos sainz x fem!photographer!reader

summary: fans love carlos’ girlfriend and her unhinged comments and photography hobby

a/n: needed a slight break from the lando fic and I love doing these small photography based smaus. I will probably be doing these for more drivers — feel free to request someone you’d like to see!

a/n 2: fyi this is all google translate Spanish 🤷‍♀️

a/n 3: I tried to write horny for the first time and I think? It went? Ok?

princesa

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, and 1,231,445 others

tagged: carlossainz55

princesa: mi amor, ¿sabes lo que me vas a hacer? Either put that thing away or put it to use. (My love, do you know what you're going to do to me?)

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user1: ahhhh love to see the princess back in action

↳user2: girl we missed you and your unhinged comments

landonorris: thERE ARE CHILDREN PRESENT

↳princesa: then leave? I know you have enough of a brain in that empty head of yours to do that

↳landonorris: I just wanted to congratulate my friend!! Why are you so mean?!?

↳princesa: niño…(Boy)

↳landonorris: nope! Lando!

↳oscarpiastri: seriously?

↳princesa: I’m glad he’s your teammate now

↳oscarpiastri: thanks 😑

↳landonorris: hey!

carlossainz55: Of course princesa…On an unrelated note, where are you again?

↳landonorris: not you too!

↳princesa: 🚪 here’s the door! Use it

↳landonorris: I’m gonna report you for bullying

↳princesa: try it twig!

carlossainz55: Hermosa…you tell me to behave but post that picture?

↳princesa: 🤭🤭

↳carlossainz55: 🥵

↳princesa: I’ve got the car waiting for you

↳carlossainz55: 🏃🏻‍♂️💨

user3: girl I’m begging you for just one chance

↳carlossainz55: No

↳user4: when you pull up for a competition to worship the princess and your competition is Carlos Sainz

princesa

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, and 1,975,245 others

tagged: carlossaiz55

princesa: 🏎️ 💨💨 vroom vroom — the cars may go fast but I’d like to take my time with you baby

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user5: congrats on the podium Carlos!!

user6: did she just…

↳user7: imply they fuck? Yes.

↳princesa: 😉

↳user7: girl Ferrari is gonna put you in pr jail

↳princesa: 🤷‍♀️ I look good in handcuffs

↳carlossainz55: 👀👀

↳princesa:😘💋❤️

landonorris: just once I’d like to open instagram and not be assaulted with you and your gross relationship 😠🤮

↳princesa: boo hoo does A HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP scare you

↳landonorris: NO

↳carlossainz55: Oh?

↳landonorris: it’s your horny ass comments! Leave it at home!

↳princesa: it’s ok Lando — someday you’ll have a girlfriend

↳landonorris: ive haD GIRLDFRIENDS BEFORE

↳princesa: you’re behavior says otherwise tbh

↳landonorris: STOP LYING TO THE INTERNET

user8: did you guys go on a bike ride?

↳princesa: Carlos did! I was sitting pretty in the basket while he showed me around town before taking us to the beach, letting my man treat me right.

↳carlossainz55: As you should princesa, never lift a finger when I’m around

↳user8: wow that’s so cute and so sappy

↳user9: this comment thread called me single in every language

princesa

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tagged: carlossainz55

princesa: thank you baby for the amazing break. I’m glad I got to spend some alone time with my handsome man. Next week it’s back to the grind — I just know you’ll be on top 🏆🏆

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carlossainz55: Princesa, I’d take you to the ends of the world if you’d ask

↳user10: same! 😭

↳carlossainz55: Not this princesa

↳princesa: I’d follow you anywhere you wanna take me handsome

carlossainz55: And you know I look good on top

↳princesa: i don’t know…wanna refresh my memory?

↳carlossainz55: I do need to get my cardio in today…

↳princesa: well let’s see how fast you are then…I’m waiting 😉

↳user11: YOU ARE IN PUBLIC

user12: I gotta say it…I’ve missed these horny comments. Insta just isn’t the same without them

↳user13: heeeeyyyy 🍑🍑🍆🍆💦💦

↳user12: eww no

charles_leclerc: Forza Ferrari Sempre!! Second half of the season will be ours!

↳carlossainz55: You know it!

↳princesa: Go Ferrari!

user14: no disgusted lando comments? What’s happening?

↳princesa: i blocked him for this post 😊

↳user14: 🤣🤣

princesa

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princesa: Ferrari might be all red but baby, blue is your color — I believe a congratulations is in order Mr Race Winner

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user15: what a race…a Ferrari, McLaren, Williams podium was not on my bingo card for the year…

user16: petition for Ferrari to officially change its color to blue

↳user17: girl like 10 different drivers dnfed

↳user16: but Carlos won!

carlossainz55: Thank you mi amor ❤️

↳princesa: No tengo las palabras para describir lo orgulloso que estoy de ti! (I don't have the words to describe how proud I am of you!)

↳carlossainz55: Conozco mi amor y eso está bien. (I know my love and that's fine.)

↳princesa: I do know how I’m gonna congratulate you tho!

↳carlossainz55: 😳😳

carlossainz55: Are you going to be my prize, mi amor?

↳princesa: oh baby you know it!

↳princesa: just wait and see what I’ve got planned for you

↳carlossainz55: 🥵🥵

↳landonorris: 🤮🤮

↳landonorris: why? Must I? Suffer?

↳princesa: i should have kept you blocked

↳landonorris: i just wanted to congratulate my friend?

↳princesa: do it on your own post and let me be horny for my man in peace

↳landonorris: you’re uninvited to my party tonight?

↳princesa: for what? You dnfed like first

↳landonorris: 👎🏻👎🏻👎🏻

alex_albon: congrats man! It was great to be able to share a podium with you!

↳carlossainz55: Felicitaciones a ti también (Congratulations to you too)

↳carlossainz55: it was good to see you on the podium as well

oscarpiastri: great race!

↳carlossainz55: You as well!

princesa

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, and 2,556,223 others

tagged: carlossainz55

princesa: Winning looks good on you baby. You should do it more often 🏆

In all seriousness, congratulations on your season Carlos — you did fantastic this year and it was such a pleasure to travel with you and watch you live your dreams.

That said — I’m very excited for the couple of months we will have to ourselves 😘💋❤️

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carlossainz55: Princesa…I loved every second of this year, racing and traveling with you. Thank you for agreeing to my crazy idea and following me around the world.

↳princesa: oh my love…No había ningún otro lugar en el que preferiría estar que a tu lado. (There was no other place where I would rather be than by your side)

↳carlossainz55: No podría haber pedido un mejor socio (I couldn't have asked for a better partner)

carlossainz55: All to ourselves huh? 🤔

↳princesa: i know! Whatever will we do with all that time? 🤭😉

↳carlossainz55: Oh I can think of a few things 😏

↳landonorris: YEAH. GOLFING. HANGING OUT WITH YOUR FRIENDS. VISITING FAMILY!!

↳princesa: Oh, estoy tan contenta de tener un par de meses lejos de este niño... (I'm so happy to have a couple of months away from this child)

↳landonorris: Wrong!

↳carlossainz55: Since when can you read Spanish?

↳princesa: since when can you read?

↳landonorris: I’m reporting you again for bullying! And google translate exists ya know

↳landonorris: also! I’m gonna be visiting you this break

↳princesa: sorry not interested in a threesome

↳landonorris: NOOOO

↳landonorris: Carlos promised me a couple rounds of golf so there 😝

↳carlossainz55: it was a moment of weakness

user18: oh to have a champagne soaked Carlos Sainz sprint over to me to kiss me senseless after a spectacular race,,,

↳princesa: it’s a great experience! But get your own — this one is mine

↳user18: girl we’ve seen all your comments this year. We know

↳princesa: just like reminding people they can look but not have 😊

user19: i know everyone has been focusing on their…horniness this year but damn she must love him too. To quit her job just to follow him across the world…

↳princesa: it was a scary thought at first but I’m so glad I did it

↳carlossainz55: I am as well

↳landonorris: I’m not. Go away

↳princesa: I’m gonna be honest with you. We get worse with distance — you got off light this year

↳landonorris: nooooooooooooooo

↳user20: and they’re back to their regular programming

user21: my favorite part of the season is now knowing Lando Norris is the type of person to clutch his pearls at the sight of an ankle…

↳user22: right? Not what i expected

↳landonorris: I AM NOT!

↳user22: sure Jan

↳landonorris: I CAN HANDLE SEX JUST FINE THEIR JUST BEING MEAN TO ME

↳user21: ok grandpa, let’s get you back to bed

↳landonorris: NOT YOU GUYS TOO…

carlossainz55

liked by princesa, landonorris, user, and 4,822,445 others

tagged: princesa

carlossainz55: No more Ferrari PR jail, no more hiding these in my camera roll. My gorgeous gorgeous girl 🥵🥵 I’m so glad to be able to call you mine

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princesa: well let’s not completely get rid of the jail…I do quite like the handcuffs ☺️

↳carlossainz55: I could be persuaded

↳princesa: meet me in five?

↳carlossainz55: 🏃🏻‍♂️💨

user23: oh my god you guys were being tame???

↳princesa: oh absolutely

↳user23: oh my god…

user24: can Carlos fight? Like seriously?

↳carlossainz55: Yes

↳user25: I think if a group of us get together we could take him

↳carlossainz55: You’d be wrong

↳princesa: sorry girls guys and nonbinary pals — I am a one man girl

↳princesa: and I think I’d have to report you to someone

↳user25: you know what? That’s fair

↳used24: and hot!?! Gotta love that kind of loyalty

landonorris: I’m gonna deactivate my account

↳princesa: I didn’t think I’d get my Christmas present so early!

↳landonorris: 😑😑

↳carlossainz55: I’ll give you a Christmas present 🎁

↳princesa: a big one?

↳carlossainz55: Oh you know it

↳landonorris: NOT ON MY COMMENT THREAD. GO AWAY

user26: Sad to see Carlos leave Ferrari but good god am I excited to see the more unhinged version of him in Williams…

↳user27: thank god I’m not the only one

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metranart · 8 months ago

Text

Acting like a bird in heat, Hawks ends up fulfilling his mating cycles with you… but now that his mind isn’t a pool of hormones… why does he keep looking for you?

Hawks x Student! Reader (Part 1)

Warning tag: obsessed! Hawks, possessive! Hawks, naive! student reader, violation of trust, dubious consent, mating cycles, rut response, obsessive behavior, uncontrollable thirst for reader, manipulation, forced, thigh riding, hormonal minds out of control, sexual content, first time, cock riding, teenage fuck, Dabi's toxically interested in you, Bakugo bestie yet secretly inlove wit you, love confessions, cock-drunk, Hawks trying to be good but failing miserably, gaslighting, HEAVY plot, lots of smut.

The last time you saw him, your fingers dripped in his milky and creamy essence, his cheeks were bright red, and foggy as the feather adorning his back, and his voice held an elusive pant as if trying to catch his breath, along with his actions. Self-consciousness, the new mask for him to wear as he disentangled your hand from his now flaccid cock, almost caringly, half-lidded golden orbs shinning in its post-delirium bliss yet hiding a regretful truth. How the fuck did this happened? And why the hell did he allowed it? What was that new confusing feeling inside his chest?Takami Keigo knew what it was, but had never had such a close encounter with it in his whole life.

Shame.

No man, no citizen, no hero... –shall call himself trustworthy, after what he did. After the kind of thoughts that now circled his brain...agh! and he called himself the Number two hero. What a farse.

A steady hand passed through his golden locks, disheveled strands restricting the smooth motion, as he heavily sighed.

I need a bath, thought mildly annoyed. Maybe that would serve him to clear his mind and untangle the treacherous feeling threatening to drive him insane, a cold shower would serve the purpose of cooling the deep mortification, he was experiencing. Fresh summer wind ruffled the papers scattered on top of his desk and at the same time, refreshed his blushing skin. The memory of his recent untactful sin, raving his brain like a horde of savages attacking a peaceful village. Damn his luck. Damn his choice of actions and must of all, damned the day, he saved you. Hawks could still remember so many details, little yet so endearing details about you. When arrived at the scene never thought for a minute, would become involved in such colorful acts.

Everything went peachy during the rescue; Endeavor handled the Villain with upmost care while incinerating his head right away from his body. Tactful, the winged hero recalled to think quite amused, it would have been a scarring scene, if not were for the villain being a Nomus. Yet, he couldn’t avoid but to think, there still were so many more options to reach the same end. His job in this particular scene was easy, to say the least. Save the hostage. A sweet, scared and highly ordinary young girl who found herself trapped in the crossed fire. UA uniform hugging your figure, as the Nomus paraded itself around you like a bee setting his sting to hurt. There was little time to act, and the moment the flames exploded from the Number one hero, Hawks saw his window open to save the deceptive young girl. Flying through hell fire landed with a soft thud in front of you, displaying his wings to envelop you in a cocoon of feathers, the red flames licking his crimson wings while shielding you from harm.

His gloved hands went straight to your waist in a studied motion, at the same time his gaze fixed in yours asking for permission to touch you, you almost threw yourself at him like a trembling leaf who seek shelter from the chaotic winds. The winged hero was quick enough to pull you into his welcome arms and fly up, taking you both from the ground just in time. The scorching heat caressed his flying form before both were out of reach. The crowd around the sinister cheered the incineration of the villain, and a swift smirk kidnapped the blonde’s lips in a sassy gest.

He knew he have it in him, Endeavor just needed a few notches in the right direction. All those musings were curtly interrupted as his eyes focused on the civilian resting in his arms, your round eyes caught him off guard, nevertheless, was quick to smile and reassure your questioning stare. You seemed in shock, probable still were. These nasty things never left a sweet taste behind. Flying you to the safety of the ground, landed near the scene, but far away to gift you with some privacy to compose. Hawks gently unwrapped you from his chest and placed a comforting hand over your hunched shoulders, reassuring smile always present in his welcome expression. "It´s ok, you are safe now." His palm gently squeezed your shoulder, thumb doing comforting circle motions over the fabric of the uniform. "Breath, in and out, you'll see how you feel better in matter of seconds–" You managed to quirk the edge of your lip up, and your frame stopped shaking, the tremors slowly disappearing the more oxygen you gulped. "Atta girl" The hero cheered, lowly. "In and out, you’re almost a pro." His good-hearted joke reaped the fruits as a melodic giggle escaped out of you, and your tense frame seemed to relax. "T-thank you, Hawks" you timidly stammered, eyes glued to your fidgeting fingers interlacing each other, nervously.

Looking up from your hands met his gleeful stare, and your cheeks gained a dust of pink. Your lips opened and closed as if wanted to say something but didn’t dare to. Hawks pretended no to notice, to save you the embarrassment.

He was used to have this effect over the female population, every woman in town was one smirk away from his warm bed, but the young hero had grown tired of those kinds of relationships. When you can have all, you can eat, eventually the buffet seemed less attractive, almost boring.

He liked sex, holly shit, he fucking did! as much as the next guy would. But he needed a challenge – actually wasn’t sure what he needed, but something inside him was unsatisfied and restless, continuingly poking at the back of his mind.

“Don’t mention it, cutie.” The hero said simply and looking around, realized that your home shouldn't be far away.

“If you want, I can take you to your house" he suggested, in a carefree and friendly tone, "flying everything is closer." Cheerfully, added.

Taking a moment to think, nibble your lower lip a bit but you ended up accepting. His amber glasses shone under the rays of the sun and without preamble, he offered you his arms which you nervously climb for him to leave the safety of the ground and surf the sky, again.

"Are you comfortable?” Keigo asked, feeling your body a little tense among his arms, being carried bride style across the sky would definitely woo any girl, nevertheless, you seem more uncomfortable than anything else.

“M´Ok.” you said, curtly, and hawks, merely nodded. “By the way, are we heading in the right direction?"

A blush swept across your cheeks at the realization of what he just stated, and timidly squeezing his arm to feel more secure, you glanced down and before you could tell him exactly where your house was, you noticed something coating your fingers.

“You are hurt!” You half-yelled worried, looking at your blood covered hand, and then, at his wounds. You had not noticed it because he had not said anything, nor had he complained, but his arm was burned and one of his wings was semi-scorched. To which the young hero, just shrugged his shoulders, not giving it much importance.

"Comes with the territory." He openly joked, but your eyebrows continued to frown. "It's not serious, a few of Endevour´s flames got me... nothing that won't heal in a few days." He encouraged you, but you weren't able to shake the feeling of guilt.

You had been training hard to become a hero, and just when it was time to prove yourself, you froze.

It was so, so embarrassing that Todoroki's father had to save you, that you refused to go back to the dormitory you shared with your class A classmates. Surely, they would be worried, not to mention, you had already ghosted, a few text messages from Professor Aizawa asking if you were okay. But you just kept feeling like you let everyone down. That was why you preferred to go home and cry your eyes out in the solitude of your bedroom, or among your mom’s arms.

Now, you felt even worse, since Hawks, the number two hero, was injured because of you. Maybe he didn't show it since he was too professional, but that wound was serious and would take more than a few days to heal, not to mention it could get infected.

Ugh! you had to help him, was the least you could do… It was what a true hero would do.

Setting your mind, you decided to use your quirk on him, despite Recovery Girl several warnings. Without a doubt, you could heal him... now the only setback was, not losing control while doing it.

An idea suddenly lights your brain, and catching a glimpse of a well-known hidden alleyway, near your house, you signaled to him that you had arrived.

Hawks landed softly, and let you down, looking around the place. "I'll take you to the door, which one is yours?" The young hero, offered.

“...Is the one on the other side of the alley.” You indicated, signaling a house, close by.

“Oh, fine.” Keigo said, not really understanding why you choose to walk instead of fly straight to your house, but he let it pass. “Lead the way, then.”

Both entered the alley which was being embraced by thin shadows and before you reached the other side, you turned around and looking at Hawks with embarrassment, you fidgeted with your fingers for a moment. Surprise morphed Keigo´s features comically when out of all the requests in the world, you suddenly asked.

“May-may I give you a kiss?” You asked, timidly and noticing his bemused expression, corrected. “...As a way of thanking you.... for saving me....”

Your timid request took him by surprise momentarily, but soon his features regain his cool, and was quick to nod to then leant down. A kiss on the cheek, Keigo thought it to be innocent enough, not a usual request, nevertheless, a simple one. If this put you to rest, he'll humor you. Keigo was cocking his head for you to place your sweet lips.... it's now or never, you breathed deeply.... if you were going to use your quirk, now was the moment.

Two slender hands perched in each side of the Hero´s face and in a firm, straight movement, you cocked his face in your direction, surprise registered in his face, and his golden orbs popped open at the feeling of your lips locking with his.

COMING SOON PART 2....

⭕️ In my PATREON you will find NSFW art of this chapter and more spicy MHA NSFW art and exclusive smut fanfiction.... Plus 'Spicy Foreplay tier reward' like: voting poll privilege for the exclusively Patreon one-shot stories where you can choose the couple pairing and kinky mood for the story and NSFW art, along with some naughty animation like THIS ONE ....and my eternal and vast gratitude for your support!!!

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wholoveseggs · 7 months ago

Note

Heyy, you should make an Elijah fic where it’s set where he has his middle part and he falls in love with Elena’s best friend as the reader? With fluff and smut please!!! 🤍🤍

Rules {Part One}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Part One

As the little sister of the Salvatores, trouble always finds you. Whether it's from a vampire, werewolf or an original, you are always at the center of it. When the mysterious villain Elijah comes to Mystic Falls, everyone is trying to stop him from hurting Elena. But you? You might be falling in love...

♡♡ Thanks for the request beautiful anon! Middle part Elijah will forever have me in a chokehold && it's about time I write a little bit about the Salvatore brothers...♡♡

2k words - Warnings: this one is just mainly smut, foreplay, secret affair, enemies to lovers, Elijah being the sexiest middle-part menace he can be, reader is a lot like her brother Damon... will this turn into a romeo and juilet tragic romance ? maybee

{Part Two} {Part Three}{Part Four}{Part Five}

"Rules? I don't recall such things..." You giggled softly, kicking your feet a little, a wide smile on your face.

Laying on your stomach in front of the fireplace at the boarding house, you chatted on the phone with Elijah. You ran your fingers through the soft rug underneath you, biting your lip and waiting for a response from him.

"Hmm, perhaps you just have a very poor memory then," Elijah murmured, you could hear the smile in his voice. It had you grinning like an idiot, and you had to roll onto your back and stare up at the ceiling just to calm yourself down. You felt giddy, excited, and so many other emotions that you thought were long dormant in your old age.

"Perhaps..." You murmured, letting out a happy sigh and smiling at the ceiling.

"Let me refresh your memory," Elijah whispered into the phone, his tone calm and deep, as he sat back in the large leather chair in his office. "Rule one, when we are together, it will just be us,"

"And it will be," You assured him, closing your eyes, imagining his voice directly in your ear. "Everyone has gone away for the night,"

"I don't see why we don't just rent a room," He chuckled softly.

"Because," you murmured, feeling shyer by the second. "I want you to see my room, I have some books and art to share with you, there's this painting I hung up the other day that you would love..."

Elijah smiled, looking down and picking at a piece of lint on his pants, unable to deny how much he liked that thought. "I would love to see all the details of what makes you happy,"

You blushed, sitting up on your thighs, the heat of the fireplace warming your back.

"So? Come over?" You asked, hopeful, almost squirming with need.

Elijah knew this was a bad idea, if the Salvatore brothers returned, he would have to deal with their wrath. They were the enemy, but you... You were a weakness, one he couldn't seem to ignore.

"What would I get in return?" He wondered, standing up and moving over to the window.

You grinned, a plan forming. "Anything you want..."

Elijah licked his lips, feeling his heart beat just a bit faster.

"You are dangerous..." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Give me an hour,"

You giggled happily, rolling onto your stomach and kicking your legs behind you. "I'll be waiting,"

With a small hum of confirmation, Elijah ended the call.

You tossed your phone aside and scurried to your room, deciding what to wear. Usually you weren't shy or nervous to hook-up with someone, but with Elijah it was different.

It had been a few weeks, and you had both agreed, the last time would be the only time. But then one thing led to another, a text here, an invitation there, and now you couldn't deny the pull between the two of you.

After showering and shaving and washing, you stood naked in your closet and looked through the clothes. You finally settled on a simple yet expensive lingerie set that hugged your body and pushed up your breasts. Then you slipped into a simple black dress, deciding to keep it casual, since you were planning on being naked for most of the night.

A knock on the door made you grin, and you rushed to the door, your excitement bubbling to the surface.

Elijah stood on the porch, hands tucked in the pockets of his long trench coat, a small smile on his face.

"Hello, Miss Salvatore," He said softly, stepping inside.

You shut the door behind him, pressing your back against it, taking in the man before you.

"Elijah," You purred, grinning like a cat. "Glad you could join me,"

Elijah hummed softly, his eyes roaming your form. You could see the lust in his eyes, the way his jaw clenched.

"You know, the last time we were alone, I believe we agreed this would not happen again," Elijah reminded, taking a step forward, closing the gap between you.

"Hmm, did we?" You murmured, your hand reaching out and running down the front of his suit, feeling the material. You stopped and looked up at him, a grin on your face.

He leaned down and kissed you, his lips soft and gentle against yours. His hands went to your hips, pulling you flush against him.

You let out a small gasp, a hand going to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

You pulled away, your cheeks a light pink and your breathing heavy. He already had you dizzy, and he had barely done anything.

"How about a tour?" He murmured, a smile on his lips.

"Sure," You nodded, pulling him towards the stairs, a giddy smile on your face.

He followed along, not paying attention to the art and paintings on the walls, instead he was watching you, the way your hips swayed with every step, and the smile on your face as you brought him closer and closer to your bedroom.

As soon as you stepped through the door, Elijah's hands were on your waist, his lips kissing along your neck and shoulders. He kicked the door close, and started pushing you further into the room.

You stumbled a little, giggling and holding onto his arm, letting him push you towards the bed. You spun around and faced him, and he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a passionate kiss. You ran your hands up his chest and to his tie, unknotting it and throwing it on the ground. You worked on his jacket next, sliding it off his shoulders and down his arms, leaving him in his white shirt.

"Mm, you're rushing," Elijah teased, nipping at your bottom lip, his hands gripping your hips tightly.

"No, no, you're just too slow," You shot back, ripping open his shirt, the buttons flying across the room.

Elijah looked down at his torn shirt, and then up at you, his lips curled into a smirk. "Careful,"

"Or what?" You teased, running your fingers through his hair, a playful glint in your eyes.

Elijah pushed you backwards, and you fell onto the bed, letting out a laugh as he crawled up your body, his mouth attaching to your neck, sucking and biting, making you moan.

"Greedy little vampire, aren't you?" He murmured against your skin, his hands running up your thighs, slowly pushing your dress up.

"Hmm, for you," You purred, tugging at his belt, getting frustrated when you couldn't get it undone.

Elijah chuckled, sitting up and working his belt free, a cocky smirk on his lips. You rolled your eyes, and wiggled your way out of your dress, tossing it onto the ground, leaving you in nothing but the black lace lingerie.

"My, my," Elijah said slowly, his eyes drinking in the sight before him. "You look stunning,"

You bit your lip, a small smile on your face as he climbed back on top of you, his hands running up your sides.

"This was an excellent choice," He murmured, running his fingers over the lace. "Maybe I should rip it off, make it match my shirt,"

"Don't you dare," You warned, wrapping your arms around his neck, bringing his mouth to yours.

Your hand rested against his stomach, and you let it wander up his chest. You could feel his strength as he held himself over you, the muscles of his arms flexing, his chest rising and falling.

His hair fell into his face, framing his cheekbones, his intense gaze fixed on you. You blushed and tucked his hair behind his ear, running your finger along his sharp jaw.

"You're so handsome," You breathed, the words escaping your lips before you could stop them.

Elijah chuckled, his breath hot against your skin.

"And you're breathtaking," He murmured, before ripping off your lingerie, leaving you completely bare beneath him.

"I told you not to do that," You gasped, though you weren't really angry, your blood was already rushing south.

He grinned, his fingers trailing up your leg, teasing your core. You spread your legs wider, and he eased a finger inside you, chuckling as your annoyed expression melted into pleasure. He watched you like this, lips parted, panting softly. Then he added second finger, then a third, until he was fucking you with three fingers, the palm of his hand brushing against your clit.

"Elijah," You moaned, tugging him down, kissing him roughly.

Elijah smirked against your lips, and curled his fingers, finding that sweet spot that had you seeing stars.

"Fuck," You moaned, arching off the bed, your eyes screwed shut.

"That's it," He encouraged, his eyes dark with lust as he watched you, his fingers picking up speed, curling and twisting inside you.

"I can't..." You whined, squirming and grabbing his wrist.

"But you can," He mumbled, kissing you deeply. You moaned into the kiss as he moved his hand faster. The tension was so delicious and intoxicating, but before you could reach your release, Elijah was pulling his hand back.

You were so lost in pleasure you didn't hear the sound of the front door opening, or the noise of Stefan and Damon entering the house.

But Elijah did. He froze, his ears trained on the footsteps of the Salvatore brothers. He cursed under his breath, and turned to look down at you, a smirk playing on his lips.

You frowned at the lack of contact, and pouted, looking up at him, confused. You opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off with a kiss.

Then you heard them.

In a flash Elijah was gone, all that was left of his touch was your scattered breathing and lust filled eyes.

You heard the sound of your brother's footsteps coming up the stairs and pulled a blanket over yourself. A moment later Damon and Stefan walked in the doorway.

"What do you want?" You muttered, looking grumpy, and trying to sound like you were angry at being interrupted from a good sleep.

"Just checking in," Stefan smiled, before noticing how disheveled your hair was, the blush in your cheeks, and the fact that you were wrapped in a blanket and nothing else.

"Have you been here all night?" Damon asked, looking concerned.

"Yes," You snapped, sitting up and pulling the blankets tighter around you. "I was tired and fell asleep reading,"

Stefan and Damon shared a look, neither looked like they were buying your story.

"We'll let you rest," Stefan nodded, heading for the door, giving you a suspicious look.

"Yeah, go back to sleep, we'll be downstairs," Damon murmured, shooting you a knowing look, before following his brother out the door, shutting it behind him.

Once they were gone, you collapsed back against the pillows, letting out a breath.

You could still feel Elijah's lips on yours, still smell his cologne, still taste him on your tongue. You closed your eyes, a smile spreading across your face.

It was in that moment, that you knew you were absolutely, undeniably, hopelessly, in love with Elijah.

And, without a doubt, completely and utterly fucked.

{Part Two} {Part Three}{Part Four}{Part Five}

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