#Gimme dates and numbers | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joelscurls · 11 months ago

Text

best kept secret

pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 6.7k

summary: In an attempt to keep your relationship secret, Joel agrees to a blind date set up by his best friend / your father. You don't take it well.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, pre-outbreak, age gap (reader is in her early 20s, Joel is 36), secret relationship, angst, explicit smut, oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, semi-public sex, car sex, creampie, some fluff; lmk if I missed anything!

a/n: so sorry it took me almost a month to post something new ffs - life got busy and my inspiration simultaneously disappeared. but we're back, baby! anyway, dbf!joel owns my ass, so here's my rendition of him. as always, ty to my baby @javisashtray for reading this over for me and helping me through the creative process <3

Joel’s bedroom window offers a perfect view of the sunrise; of shy, pink light creeping over treetops and the roof of your dad’s house across the street.

It’s gorgeous — breathtaking, even — maybe because you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve actually seen the crest of morning. You’re far more privy to late nights and sleeping in as long as you can push it, never been one to be up with the lark, so to speak.

You don’t mind the early wakeup call, though, not when it’s this: Joel’s head tucked between your thighs, his tongue rolling lazily over your clit, your eyes still adjusting to the light as he spreads you open for him.

He’s humming against you, his coarse beard tickling soft skin, thumbs dug into muscle to hold you in place as your back bows reflexively off the mattress. He looks so sweet like this, so eager to please, staring up at you with blown pupils.

“C’mon baby,” he purrs. “Just gimme one before you go.”

They’re the first words he’s said all morning, the first thought that’s necessitated utterance. His voice is hoarse and deep and drips honey-sweet at your core.

Even so, despite how badly you want to — because you always want Joel’s mouth on you — you’re not sure you can.

Because you need to get home before Denise next door leaves for her early shift. Before Susan a few houses down takes her dog out for a walk.

Before the neighborhood wakes and somebody sees you leaving Joel Miller’s house. Or worse, before your dad catches you slipping into the house in yesterday’s clothes, your car in the driveway still cold.

But with another experimental flick of Joel’s tongue, you forget all that, a content little sigh slipping past your parted lips, betraying you.

Just one, you tell yourself, and then you’ll head out.

“Fuck, okay — yeah,” you breathe, twisting your fingers into the roots of his curls.

With your permission, he buries his nose in your mound. Licks at you again — with more purpose, this time. One long, drawn out lap followed by another.

He’s so gentle with you, so careful, caressing your folds with his tongue like they’re made of paper. It’s a dizzying juxtaposition to the way he laid you down last night and fucked you, teeth scraping your neck and cock bruising your cervix.

You’re still sore, your walls tender where he stretched them, but your pussy is drooling nonetheless, surely making a mess of the bedsheets underneath you.

Because you’re insatiable when it comes to Joel.

For the past few weeks, since the first time you’d found yourself in his bed, you’ve craved him. Regardless of how sated he’s left you each and every time, you’ve needed more.

It’s dangerous and stupid and undeniably wrong, having a fling with your dad’s best-friend. But you’re finding it difficult to consider the morality of it all when just his tongue makes you come harder than any other man’s cock ever has.

That tongue, now dipping into your apex, drawing more slick out of you as his thumb finds your swollen clit — It’s overwhelming how good it feels, how good he is at this.

He’s bringing you to the edge languidly, savoring the taste of you, the feel of your silky flesh. It’s like he doesn’t want this to be over, needs to stretch the moment as far as it’ll go, milk every last second before you slip from his grasp.

But it’s going to end soon; it’s inevitable with the way he’s laving your pussy, the crushed velvet of his tongue gliding through your folds so wet and warm. Your orgasm is building, and you’re powerless to stave it off any longer.

“Joel,” you warn, his name a high-pitched whine.

“Shh, I know babygirl; it’s okay.”

Two of his fingers hook at your entrance and push in, pacifying you as his thumb continues working your clit. “I got you. Let go for me, sweetheart.”

The soothe of his voice floods your senses like nitrous; renders your body loose and your head foggy. You come apart with a string of shattered breaths, eyes rolled back and fingers twisted into the duvet.

Joel talks you through it: that’s it, pretty girl; so good for me; always so good for me, and though he sounds so far away, his words are the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

The world comes back into view slowly. Air settles in your lungs. And you can’t help but laugh at how fucked-out you feel when you peer down at Joel, his gaze already locked on you, expectantly.

“Okay?” he asks, rubbing at your inner thigh.

“Yeah,” you exhale, corners of your lips pulling taut. “More than okay.”

He smiles back at you. Props himself up with hands planted either side of you on the mattress and hovers over your feeble form.

“Good,” he whispers, dipping his head down to kiss your forehead, your nose, your mouth. He licks into you, letting you taste yourself on him — a little sweet, a little bitter — and his lips are so soft that you nearly melt. “Did so good, angel.”

You want nothing more than to spend all day in this bed with him. Return the favor a few times over. Learn what he looks like in the afternoon sun against the backdrop of navy blue sheets. What he tastes like after his coffee rather than before.

“I don’t want to leave,” you admit against his mouth and he frowns, taking one of your hands in his. He presses a kiss to each of your knuckles, one by one, his eyes never straying from yours.

“I don’t want you to either, darlin’. But you can come back tonight, yeah?”

Tonight. Hours away. A whole day between now and then. But it’ll have to do.

“Tonight,” you repeat. Solidify it.

You slink home just as the street lights dim.

The house is quiet when you enter, apart from the incessant ticking of the grandmother clock in the living room. It sets off a throbbing in your head, a dull pang right at the front of your skull that you massage with two fingers as you ascend the stairs.

You move cautiously up each step, wincing at every creak of old wood. It must take minutes to reach the second-floor landing, and then you’re tiptoeing past your father’s room, listening for signs of sleep behind the seal of his door. Sure enough, you catch it, a single, drawn-out snore, loud enough that you let your feet fall, shuffling the rest of the way to the bathroom across the hall.

You immediately crank the shower on, climbing in as soon as you see steam. Lathering your skin with citrus-scented body wash, the smell of sex washes off your body and down the drain.

The warm water soothes your sore muscles; bittersweet relief. You stand there until the stream grows icy, stepping out and toweling yourself off just as you hear the familiar blare of your dad’s alarm on the other side of the wall.

By the time you’ve dressed and made your way downstairs, he’s already in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee with his back to you.

Sink empty, counters borderline sparkling, a coaster tucked under his warm mug — your father is a neat man. He does not take kindly to mess.

God forbid, anybody disrupt the sacred balance of his home; move something and forget to put it back, break something of his that should be kept intact.

“Hey.”

“Hey, kiddo,” he yawns. Turns to face you. “You were up early. Heard the shower going.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you lie.

“Something on your mind?”

Heat blooms across your chest and up your neck. There’s no way he knows — you’ve been far too careful. Still, you’re on edge, and the question lodges itself between your ribs uncomfortably as you frantically search for an answer.

“Uh, n-no,” you stutter. “Just work stuff, I guess.”

He seems to buy it, reaching for the percolator and re-filling his mug with a sigh, “Just gotta give it time. You only just started. Plus, it’s your first job out of school. They don’t expect you to know it all right away.”

It’s good advice, if not misguided. You nod as if you’re absorbing it, taking it straight to heart. As if your mind isn’t preoccupied.

You grab a mug from the cabinet. Fill it with coffee and creamer. Perch yourself at the breakfast table and take a slow, steadying sip.

The caffeine has just about seeped into your bloodstream when-

-there’s a knock at the door.

Your dad shoots you a puzzled look, one which you immediately return. Who could that be, so early on a Wednesday morning?

And when he pushes open the door to reveal none other than Joel, you just about fall out of your chair. Your nails absentmindedly dig into the wood of the table in an attempt to brace yourself.

“Oh, buddy — hey! Come on in,” your dad says, patting him on the back as he steps over the threshold. “Wasn’t expecting you.”

You grasp the handle of your mug like a lifeline. For a fleeting moment, you worry the ceramic will shatter in your hands.

Joel is dressed — blue cotton t-shirt covering his broad back and the deep, red scratches you left there when you dug your nails into skin, your legs hiked over his hips and your face tucked into his chest.

The pair of boxers peeking over the waistband of his jeans are different from the ones you pulled off of him last night, the ones he shimmied back into before you slept cradled in his arms.

He’s a different Joel here, now — your father’s friend, your neighbor — not the man who breaks you down with his tongue or the one who calls you his good girl while you take his entire, throbbing length.

No, this Joel, standing in your kitchen in the presence of your father, has never betrayed him. Hasn’t tasted his friend’s daughter or felt the tight embrace of her wet, warm cunt around his cock. This Joel is reliable, honest, not one to do harm.

You do not desire this Joel, cannot. You must look at him with apathetic eyes. Must keep the boat of your longing at bay.

Easier said than done. It’s as if your desire for him is a feral beast, fed by his touch and left starving in its wake. You feel like you’ve just run a marathon, sweat beading at your collar as you not-so-subtly follow the subconscious flex of his hands, the bunching of fabric over his biceps.

His voice bounces off the backsplash, and your fingers tighten around the handle of your mug.

“Yeah, I uh — I went to make myself coffee and realized I was out. Was hopin’ you might have some to spare?”

He can’t be serious. He came over for coffee? He couldn’t get some on the road?

“I’m afraid she took the last of it,” your dad’s eyes point to you, and you ignore the burn of Joel’s gaze when his follow.

“Ahh,” he says. “‘ts okay. I’ll grab some on my way in.”

His fingers taptaptap on the edge of the countertop, bottom lip tucked between his teeth like there’s something else. Another reason he came here.

And then you spot it — your wallet, dark red leather, poking out the top of Joel’s back pocket.

You must’ve left it in his room before you hurried home. Somewhere amongst the mess of trinkets and trash on his dresser. You half-remember dropping it there last night as he’d kneeled in front of you and peppered kisses up the length of your leg.

Thankfully, your dad is oblivious as ever, giving Joel the perfect opportunity to inconspicuously slip you your wallet when he turns around and crosses the kitchen, placing his empty mug in the sink.

Joel sidesteps once, twice, extending his arm and snapping it back as soon as you have the wallet in your grasp.

Your father clears his throat. Spins to find Joel exactly where he was. “I’ve been thinking,” he starts, wrestling a slice of bread out of the bag and dropping it into the toaster, “I gotta set you up with this co-worker of mine, Deb.”

Joel freezes. You watch as the color drains from his face and his large hand anxiously cards through dark curls. You’re pretty sure you freeze too, breath caught somewhere in your throat until your dad turns to you and you remember to exhale.

“You know Deb, right, honey?” he asks. You mentally flick through the rolodex of your dad’s coworkers.

There’s Leanne, tall redhead, hosted a potluck a few months back at which you tasted the worst mac & cheese you’ve ever had. And Barbara from accounting, who he got into a heated argument with over who makes the best BBQ in the city. You only remember her name because he hadn’t shut up about how wrong her opinion was for a full week.

This woman actually thinks the Smoke Shop has got better ribs than Lou’s. I said to her, Barbara, your taste buds must be absolutely torched.

But Deb? You don’t recall a Deb. Still, you’re pretty sure you hate her, just in hearing her name in this context.

You shake your head, no.

“Well, I guess you haven’t seen her in a while. She was there that day I brought you into the office.”

“When I was ten?” you retort.

“Yeah, I guess it was that long ago, huh?”

You shrug. He returns his attention to Joel. “Anyway, Deb – she’s around your age, just got divorced about a year back, and she’s a real nice woman. I think you two would really hit it off.”

“Is that so?” Joel replies. You swear his voice wavers. If your dad notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“You’ll like her Joel, I promise. I mean, when’s the last time you went out with a nice lady? Not since – what was her name — Jean? And if things were going well with her, I’d hope you’d tell your old friend.” The toaster pops, and he retrieves his slice of toast. Grabs a butter knife from the utensil drawer.

“No, I ain’t seeing Jean,” Joel sighs. Flashes you an apologetic glance as your dad slathers his toast in artificial purple jam, blissfully unaware.

“Well, you gotta get back out there!”

Joel’s gaze rolls to the ceiling. “I don’t know – I’m just not real interested in datin’ right now.”

You exhale, then — a quiet declaration of relief that seems to go unnoticed — unperturbed even when your dad continues his pitch.

I’ve known this woman for years Joel, I’m telling you, the two of you’d be the perfect match; she’s a looker too, real pretty.

Ew. Tuning him out, you check the clock, find that you only have a few minutes before you need to get going. You stand from the table and make your way toward the sink with your now-empty coffee mug in hand.

Would I ever lead you astray? your dad is asking just as you brush past Joel. His hand, idle by his side, catches the fabric of your blouse and you have to fight to ignore the pinprick of electricity it ignites under your skin.

“No, I know,” Joel grumbles. “I trust your judgment ‘n all, ‘ts just-”

“Will you just give her a chance?”

“Jesus; fine.”

The mug slips from your grip, falls into the sink with a clang.

Your dad glares at you, expression softening only when you gesture to the still-intact ceramic lying on its side in the basin.

He’s quickly distracted, then, jotting a series of numbers down onto a scrap of notebook paper, the blue ink pressed in so hard that it’s beginning to bleed through.

“Atta boy,” he drawls, sliding it across the counter. Joel pinches it between two fingers, folds the paper without looking at it and stuffs it into his front pocket.

“Promise you’ll give her a call tonight? I may or may not have already talked you up, and I need to know you’re not gonna make me look bad here.”

Joel has to see you staring at him out of the corner of his eye. He must. If looks could kill, he’d be six feet under already. But he’s refusing to meet your gaze, eyes glued to the cabinet directly in front of him as he nods. “Yeah, I’ll call her tonight,” he says, a small, unconvincing smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

He’s actually agreeing to this?

You need to get out of here before you say something rash.

The anger bubbles in you slowly, then all at once, threatening to boil over as you slip on your shoes and sling your bag over your shoulder.

Marching toward the door, you offer a half-hearted bye, not bothering to look back before you leave.

The office is already milling with people by the time you stroll in, ten minutes late.

The conversation between Joel and your dad is still running laps in your head as you sneak past your boss’s door.

It sticks there through the morning and well into the afternoon, your dad’s words an incessant earworm: I think you two would really hit it off.

The thing is — you can’t blame Joel for saying yes to the setup. Not really. Your situation is complicated, messy, bound to end badly.

Maybe he’d be happier with Deb.

They could take walks together, stroll through the grocery store or down the street hand-in-hand. Throw dinner parties and shamelessly gush about their relationship to their friends. All without fear of being caught doing something wrong.

Because that’s what this is, you and Joel — it’s wrong. Not like you weren’t already well aware of that. Leave it to some woman you’ve never met to rub it in.

The day passes infuriatingly slow.

The pile of emails in your inbox only grows larger by the time you’re due to clock out, stack of reports on your desk barely touched. You wince when your boss stops by your cubicle on her way out, eager for an update.

“Sorry, Linda; a couple of these were more time-consuming than I’d hoped,” you lie. But you can tell she doesn’t buy it, not one bit, her expression souring as you shuffle through papers.

“I need these done by the end of the week, no matter what.”

“Of course,” you mutter, face heating with embarrassment. “I’ll get them done and on your desk by Friday.”

“Thanks.” Her heels are already clacking on tile when you open your mouth to apologize again, your sorry lost to the ether.

You gather your things and scramble to your feet as soon as she’s out of view, not sticking around to watch your computer power down. By the time you get to your car, Joel’s number is already dialed on your phone.

He picks up after two rings.

“Darlin’ — are you okay?”

It’s admittedly uncharacteristic for you to call him so early. You usually wait until after dark, when you’ve both retreated to your respective bedrooms, away from listening ears.

But this can’t wait. It’s been eating at you all day, digging into your work. If you don’t talk to him about it, you’re going to end up unemployed. You don’t bother to ask if he’s still on the job site, around other people. “You’re going on this date.” It’s not a question. More of an accusation.

“Baby,” he sighs. You try your best to ignore his molasses drawl and the way it seeps into your chest.

“Why didn’t you say no?”

“How could I?” he groans. “There’s your dad, askin’ me if I’m seein’ someone, sayin’ he’s already told this lady about me – what am I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know.” Your voice comes out a whine. “Make something up. Tell him you’ve taken a vow of celibacy.”

He laughs, low and breathy on the other end. “Yeah, baby. Think he’d believe that one, f’sure.”

“Fuck,” you huff. “I just— I don’t-“

You want to tell him not to go. To cancel. Fake his own death. Do whatever it takes to get out of this. But you have no right, not really. The two of you aren’t dating. You don’t have any control over what he does or who he sees. And you don’t want that, no. You just want him to choose you.

“I don’t wanna go, darlin’. I really don’t. But if I do this, I think it’ll get him off my back for a while. He won’t have a reason to suspect that I’m foolin’ around with his daughter.”

Fooling around. His phrasing is a metaphorical punch in the gut.

It’s not exactly a lie. You haven’t put a label on this thing, whatever it is. It’s been purely physical: lips slotted to lips, tongues pressed together, swapped sweat and saliva. But hearing it reduced to two words, words with such a casual connotation — as if you haven’t been driven by overwhelming desire — makes your stomach churn.

Joel doesn’t seem to clock it when you go quiet, a cocktail of rage and sorrow sloshing around your insides. “It’s for the best,” he adds, a shot of hard, burning liquor.

“Yeah,” you say defeatedly. Choke back the pathetic tears that creep up your throat. “For the best.”

He ends the call with the excuse of bad cell reception. Promises to talk to you later. You’re not sure that you believe him.

The phrase fooling around curls up in your head, a wet dog, its fur dripping into the crevices of your rattled brain the entire drive home.

You dodge Joel’s calls for the remainder of the week.

There’s no use in talking to him when you have nothing to say, when you know any words you attempt will be overtaken by tears.

Even so, it doesn’t stop him from trying. His number lights up the screen of your phone at least twice a day.

He leaves voicemails that you do not listen to. You can’t. The last thing you need is his syruppy drawl in your ear. You’ll break; you know you will.

So instead, you delete them. Rid yourself of temptation.

But you still ache for him — a devastating truth. You lumber through the days, bones heavy with hurt. Find yourself kept up at night by thoughts of Joel and the infuriatingly soothing timbre of his voice, the intoxicating callous of his fingertips against your soft skin.

It’s a lonely thing, yearning for Joel Miller.

On Friday, your father beams at the dinner table. He’s grinning like a child as he stuffs a forkful of rice into his mouth.

“Joel and Deb’s date is tomorrow,” he says. “Think they’ll really hit it off, don’t you?”

You’re dumbfounded for a long moment — can’t believe that this is your life now: being asked about your thoughts on Joel and the ever-elusive Deb as a couple. When it takes too long for you to answer, your father’s fork stills pointedly on his plate, and you sputter.

“Oh! I mean, I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t remember Deb.” You can’t help your condescending tone. Your dad doesn’t seem to catch it anyway.

“Well,” he says, “I think they’ll be a match. Hoping so, anyway. The man has been such a hermit lately — maybe if he has a lady, he’ll get out more!”

“You sound real excited,” you grumble. Stab four peas on the prongs of your fork.

“It is exciting. I’ve never set anyone up before. And the best part is, the place they’re going to — the Tavern — it’s got rooms you can rent out for wedding receptions. Just imagine if down the line, they got mar-“

“Dad,” you stop him. You think you’ll be physically sick if you let him finish that sentence. “Sorry, I just — I’m really tired, all of a sudden. I think I’m going to head to bed early.”

It’s not a complete lie. You’re emotionally exhausted as a result of the past couple days. Sleep sounds like a much-needed, blissful escape right now.

Your dad doesn’t question you. He just nods. Swipes your plate from in front of you and brings it to the sink along with his.

Of course, you find it impossible to actually drift off that night. Tossing and turning, you battle the glaring urge to get up, slink into the home-office and look up directions to the Tavern.

Not that you’re planning to go there anytime soon — you’re just curious. That’s all.

Around midnight, you give up, pad down the hallway and into the room parallel yours. The computer dials up slowly, and you chew your bottom lip as you wait.

You snatch a piece of paper from the printer and a pen from the #1 Dad mug that sits next to the monitor. Click on the internet icon and type the words into the search bar.

This is definitely a bad idea. Maybe the worst you’ve had in a while.

You jot the address down anyway.

Downtown Austin is buzzing with life.

Patrons spilling out of bars, tourists striding down the street in their brand new Stetsons – it almost distracts you from the task at hand.

At just past seven, you’d told your dad you were going out, meeting a friend for drinks. He’d been a bit taken aback, seeing as you’re not very social these days, but he’d seemed happy. Relieved.

That’s not what you’re doing, of course.

No – in reality, you’re turning into the parking lot attached to the Tavern. It’s packed to the brim with cars, but you still manage to find Joel’s truck, its license plate number burned into the back of your mind after countless mornings of absently reading it as you snuck past.

It’s idle and empty when you inch by, and even though you knew he’d be here, on this date, your heart still sinks. Because maybe a tiny part of you had hoped he’d stand Deb up.

You should leave. It was stupid to come here in the first place. What are you going to do — storm inside and demand that he leave with you?

You consider it for half a second, groaning when you realize how pitiful you are. Defeated, you swing your car into a spot at the back, facing the building, and shift it into park. You hug the steering wheel dejectedly.

From here, you have a straight-shot view of the restaurant’s entrance, a set of double doors at the side of the building. Groups spill out every so often, every pair that emerges causing your back to arch reflexively.

Joel and Deb are probably discussing their interests right now, bonding over a shared connection with your dad. You can vividly picture the smile likely plastered across his face — the same one you’ve elicited with sweet filth whispered in his ear.

And you’re here, sitting in your running car, watching the door. Your pulse thumps obnoxiously loud in your ears.

Minutes pass like molasses, slow and thick. You watch the clock on the car radio obsessively, betting with yourself on what time they’ll leave. After thirty minutes of nothing, you’re convinced that they’re going to close the place out.

But then the door opens again, and you straighten up, immediately met with the sight of Joel and Deb.

She’s talking animatedly, eyes widening every few words, blonde hair wafting around her narrow face. It’s undeniable that she’s stunning, even from far away; possesses the kind of beauty you see on magazine covers in line at the grocery store. The jealousy that pools in your gut burns like acetone in an open wound.

She takes his arm as they walk toward the parking lot, and he lets her, despite the rest of his body appearing strangely rigid.

You wonder if he’ll take her home. Lead her to his truck, help her up the step to the passenger seat and sneak a look at her ass under her dress before shutting the door. If they’ll leave her car in the lot for the night, come back to retrieve it in the morning once he’s helped her forget about her loser ex-husband; let the scent of her perfume seep into the bed sheets to cover up yours.

But he doesn’t lead her to his truck. You watch as they unexpectedly turn down a row of cars, disappearing from your view completely, his arm still locked with hers.

He could still kiss her. Press her against the car. Promise her that he’ll call — and he will, first thing tomorrow. He’s probably just being a real gentleman. Treating her like a woman he might want to marry someday.

Maybe he knows, after just one date, that she’s his soulmate. He’ll buy the ring in a couple weeks. They’ll be engaged in a month’s time, and he’ll say he just couldn’t wait any longer.

She’s the one thing I’ve been missing.

You stew in the agonizing unknown for what feels like hours before Joel materializes once again, backside illuminated by headlights as he strides toward his truck.

And then — he stops. You see the exact moment he notices your car in the parking lot, his eyebrows threading together and his hands splaying over his hips.

He’s staring directly through the windshield. At you.

Fuck.

He takes a few slow steps. Stops in front of the hood. Narrows his eyes and flexes his jaw.

With a deep breath, you unlock the doors. Gesture for him to get in the passenger side.

He immediately rounds the car, prying the door open and climbing inside just as a SUV pulls out the row he and Deb had walked down.

The door slams when he yanks it closed. The sound echoes through the cab of the car.

“You wanna fuckin’ explain what you’re doin’ here?” he snaps. You’re afraid to look him in the eye, embarrassment and now, anger, spooling hot behind your ears.

You know you’re in the wrong. You shouldn’t have followed him. But does he have to be so hostile?

When your gaze finally meets his, he looks — distraught — jaw clenched and lips set in a straight line. His fingers absently dig into denim-covered thighs.

“I don’t know,” you mumble, “I just wanted to see how you were with her.” And it’s the truth; not one you want to be admitting right now, to him, but it’s the truth nonetheless.

“Doesn’t give you the right to spy on me.”

“So what was I supposed to do? Sit at home and mope while the guy I was seeing is on a date with someone else? Oh no, I’m sorry,” you throw your hands up, form air quotes with your fingers, “the guy I was fooling around with.”

This seems to strike a nerve. His jaw twitches, and his fingers still on his lap.

“It wasn’t like that,” he grits

“No? Isn’t that all this was to you: fooling around?”

There’s a beat. Joel sighs.

“No — fuck, no. Of course not.”

His expression softens. A crack in solid stone. “I tried callin’ you,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” you admit.

He nods. Another beat.

“Did you kiss her?” you ask.

“No.” He says it with intent, with promise, eyes firmly locked on yours now.

Your mouth goes dry.

“No?”

“No,” he repeats. “I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t want to.”

“You don’t want her?”

“No,” he says flatly, his pupils bulging in the lamplight, black bleeding into the brown of his irises. “I don’t want her.”

“Why not?”

He leans forward. His weight presses into the center console and his breath fans your face — warm, tinged with the scent of cheap beer.

“I don’t want her,” he says, voice an octave lower, “because I want you. I thought you knew that?”

The radio drones between the two of you, some classic rock song you think you recognize flitting through the speaker. Your pulse beats staccato in your throat, off tempo.

“You want me?” you ask, a little breathless, and the next words you say are beyond dumb, beyond reckless, but you say them anyway. “Prove it.”

Joel doesn’t hesitate. He closes the slight distance between you and kisses you, hard, his tongue frantically sliding against yours through parted lips.

It’s sloppy, and desperate, and you feel drunk on the taste of him, on longing laced with carnal need. He’s groaning into your mouth, grabbing your head with both hands, burying his fingers in your hair — as if he can’t get close enough, as if he’ll only be satisfied once he’s swallowed you whole. You’re pretty sure you want him to.

Your hands move frantically to his t-shirt, then, bunch into the fabric and pull. You need to feel the skin underneath, need to rove your hands along his bare chest. He accommodates, tugging the shirt by the back of the collar, lips separating from yours ever-so-briefly to bring it over his head and toss it onto the backseat.

And then he’s back on you, licking into your mouth again, eliciting a whimper from you when his hand wraps around the side of your throat, just under your jaw.

Your palms splay across his torso, wander over warm, golden skin. You’ve missed this, god, you’ve missed this — but it’s still not enough. You need to feel more of him. In your mouth, in your hand, in your cunt — you’re not picky. Just need him in whatever way he’ll provide.

“Joel,” you whimper into his mouth, fingers winding around his bicep.

He pulls back. Peers at you through hooded eyes. “What is it, baby?” he asks through labored breaths.

“Need you — please.”

He immediately unbuckles your seatbelt. Lowers his seat back and manhandles you onto his lap. You go easily; slot yourself to him with legs folded on either side of his thighs.

Wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, you grind down into his lap. His cock strains against denim underneath you. He groans when you swivel your hips and brush the heft of it again with your clothed heat.

“You gonna let me fuck you?” he asks into your mouth, his forehead pressed to yours.

Your breath catches.

You know what he’s really asking: are you going to let him fuck you here, in the parking lot of a public establishment, where anybody could see?

But you don’t care. In fact, you’re way past caring, the emptiness of your cunt too painful to ignore any longer. Let them watch him take what’s his.

You nod frantically. “Yes,” you pant. “Please.”

Joel nods too, as if he’s accepting his fate. He’s going to fuck his friend’s daughter in the passenger seat of her car. There’s no way around it — not when you’re begging for it. He’s going to give you what you need.

“Okay,” he soothes, “I got you baby.”

He helps you out of your pants, then; clumsily maneuvers them down and off your legs along with your panties and tosses them aimlessly into the back.

He doesn’t bother to take his jeans off. Lets you unzip them and pop the button open, your nimble fingers making quick work of it. And then you’re pulling his cock out of his boxers, stiff and leaking in your grasp.

You steady yourself with hands on his shoulders just as he begins to pepper placating kisses along your neck. “Go ahead baby,” he whispers into your ear. “Take it; it’s yours.”

His head falls back against the seat as you stroke him a few times and line his cock up with your dripping entrance, his hands clasped around your waist.

You sink down slowly, savoring every inch of him as he burrows in deeper. He’s so thick, stretching you like it’s the first time again, your walls fluttering as they relax around his cock.

“Fuck,” Joel slurs, fingers digging into your skin impatiently when you still, fully seated on him.

“Gotta move baby — please move.”

He’s so fucking deep, though, his cockhead bumping your cervix, and your entire body feels gelatinous atop him. A cloying sort of heat hangs around your head. You swivel your hips weakly, your forehead falling to rest on his with a heavy sigh.

Joel is happy to take control, bucking up into you so hard you see stars. You can’t suppress the string of moans that spill from your mouth, and Joel doesn’t seem to mind. He’s just as loud, anyway, his broken sounds bleeding into yours, bouncing off glass and leather.

Neither of you can muster an actual word, though, not with him rutting up into you, sheathing himself in your pussy over and over again. He’s relentlessly hitting that spot — the one that has you practically clinging to him for dear life.

It’s approaching too quickly; he’s going to make you come.

One of your hands flies to the roof of the car in an attempt to brace yourself, flat palm pressing into it so hard you worry it’ll pop.

Joel takes the opportunity to drag you down in his lap, spearing you on his cock, and the sudden change in angle makes you cry out.

“Oh f— ahh, oh my—“

“That’s it,” he coos, “you got it, babygirl.”

His words tip you over the edge, your entire body locking up as you gush around him. You’re wetting his lap, slick splattering his thighs, and he loves it, his fervid moan telling you so.

His movements begin to falter then, hips stuttering underneath you as he chases his own high.

“Cmon, baby,” you goad, “please fill me up.”

He grunts when he spills inside, his face nestling in your chest, heaving as he works through it and begins to come down. You don’t move, not that Joel would let you, still holding you on his lap like he’s afraid to let you go.

You nuzzle into his embrace as his cock softens inside you.

You stay like that for a while, probably too long given that anybody could easily look into the car and see you straddling him. You don’t have the energy to care.

Eventually, you lift your head from its spot on Joel’s chest. Look up at him with bleary eyes.

“Joel,” you say.

He meets your gaze, face shiny with sweat and his hair a mess. He looks gorgeous like this, you think. The way only you get to see him.

“Yeah?” He grazes along your arm with featherlight fingers. His touch raises goosebumps on your skin.

“Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“About wanting me.” In truth, you’re not sure you want the answer. But you need to know, definitively, if Joel is yours. You’re done sharing him.

“Oh, baby,” he drawls. “Of course I do. You’re all I want. Do you want me?”

And it’s a stupid question. He has to know that. You’re nodding before he can even finish it. “Yes,” you breathe. “I want you, Joel”

“Then it’s settled. It’s me and you. No more…interlopers.”

You giggle. Reluctantly separate yourself from his body and re-dress. You settle back into the driver’s seat with achy legs.

You’ve never felt more content than you do in this moment.

Still, you’ll have to hide — won’t be able to share the news of your new relationship with friends or coworkers, your dad — and neither will Joel.

You don’t care much, not as long as he’s yours, but you need to be sure he feels the same.

“Joel,” you stop him as he opens the passenger-side door to get out. He stills with one leg swung out the door.

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“Are you sure you don’t mind…being a secret? Don’t mind keeping me a secret?”

He looks at you like you have two heads.

He pulls his leg back into the car. Shuts the door and leans over the console again.

Taking your chin between his fingers, he forces your gaze. Makes sure you’re listening.

“I want you — doesn’t matter who knows or doesn’t know. Long as you’re mine.”

Your chest tightens, and your heart squeezes inside your ribcage.

“I’m yours?”

He smiles. Presses a chaste kiss between your eyes, on the tip of your nose, on your lips. The same way he did the other morning.

It all feels somehow sweeter, now.

“Yeah, angel. You’re mine. My girl.”

end notes: tysm for reading! please consider commenting and/or reblogging if you enjoyed! I've been toying with the idea of turning this into a series so lmk if that's something you'd be interested in hehe.

Also, I hopped on the bandwagon and made a sideblog for notifs! I'll be doing away with a taglist from here on out, so follow @joelscurlsupdates & turn on notifications if you wanna be notified when I post a new fic :-)

tag list: @janaispunk @amanitacowboy @fhatbhabie @frannyzooey @lola8888673

#joel x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #dbf!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #tlou fic #the last of us fanfiction

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oathwilled · 7 months ago

Text

He’s been in this position too many times to think it’s a good idea to press people about how they got in a particular place that night, and the circumstances in which he found him were rough enough to be a knock on anyone’s pride. And so: he doesn’t ask, and it’s not because he’s not curious about it, but rather because he doesn’t want to stick something sour in all of this, because it’s relaxed enough as it is.

The offer’s tempting — not only for just the help, but also because — well, the guy’s cute, despite the sprained ankle and circumstance, and he’s certainly not opposed to seeing him again. " I mean, if y’want, " he says, casual, with a shrug. " My shifts’re unpredictable, but I bet we could work somethin’ out. "

And: the question earns a sigh, though it’s not a put-out one; he grimaces just a little. " My father’s. " A brow tilts up. " An’ before you say sorry, I didn’t know 'im past a card every few birthdays. Never once met th’man. S’pose he figured putting me on the will was a way t’make up for it. " It’s — odd, the way he says it, a bit like he hasn’t entirely worked out if he’s angry with it or if he should be sad or frustrated or apathetic or some mix of all of them at the same time. " Ma’s still in Ireland. She said I should just sell it, get rid of it, but —— fuck, I needed a change’ve pace. Figured I’d come here an’ fix it up and figure out what to do from there. "

And then he realizes just how much he’s telling a relative stranger — a stranger he helped up on a running path and has known for about an hour, no less — and he at least manages to look a little embarrassed about it, and instead takes a swallow of the beer with a laugh. " Sorry. Way more than y’asked for. " A little wry, that, but he rallies. " If you want t’come take a look, sure. I’ll —— " he fusses with pulling his phone out of his pocket, unlocks it, thumbs through a couple screens, passes it over. " Put your number in, I’ll send the address. "

" Thought so. " He responds with a smirk and slumps back a little into his seat only after he's made a grab for a slice of pizza. The intention that night had been to have a couple drinks before he returned to his van - instead he'd found himself caught up in a bar fight, thankfully he'd not taken any hits or thrown any but being chased out... that was another story. He had a way of getting under people's skin, but his playful nature was easily mistaken for goading at times and this wasn't first and he doubted it'd be the last.

If Paerin said it was likely just a sprain then he'd treat it that way, unless it got worse. Could he drive on it? He'd probably try but not tonight, he was reckless but not senseless. " I will keep an eye on it, doc. " He couldn't resist the wink - even if he was a paramedic rather than a doctor. " The idea of being stuck in a parking lot for a few weeks was not filling me with excitement. "

His head tilts as he listens to the other, a bite of pizza swallowed down with the beer before a small smile makes it's way to his lips. " I live in a van, I am sure I have seen worse. " It felt like it was the least he could do and it would force him to stay in one place long enough to let his injury heal. " So you do not want any disco balls in your kitchen? " He teased before he took another sip. " I can start with one room and go from there, if you tell me what you want I can do my best. If I'm no good then you can fire me or dismiss me, I'm not expecting you to pay me. "

When he'd been planning to leave he'd already worked enough to pay his way and wasn't expecting it. " - and I'm not afraid of a little hard work. " Far from it, plus there was a view which made it worth it. " - was it your parents or something? "

#;; & your battle is mine. we fight it all together. ( oathfcrged. )#oathfcrged #( i enjoy how they're dancing around the whole #gimme ur number #wanna go on a DATE #LDKFJDSF nerds )

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tongue-like-a-razor · 2 years ago

Text

Doctor Doctor, Gimme The News

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Doctor!Reader

Summary: You receive a particularly difficult patient by the name of Bradshaw and you try your best to resist his charms.

CW: tall Bradley, Mavdad, it's goofy af you've been warned

WC: 1800+

A/N: I don't know, you guys, I just couldn't get this scene out of my head hahah

Your back is turned when the two men enter the office, so you don’t notice right away that one of them is practically shoving the other inside. You hear the grumbling though.

“I’m fine,” and “Let go,” and “This is a waste of time.”

You glance over your shoulder as one of the nurses places a clipboard outside an exam room and gestures for the men to wait inside. It’s a slow day at the clinic so, after finishing up the notes from your previous appointment, you head over to check the chart before walking in to greet your next patient.

The two men look up when you enter. The younger one is sitting in a chair and the older one has a firm hand on his shoulder as if he’s forcefully trying to keep him there.

“Good afternoon, I’m Doctor Y/L/N,” you say, placing the clipboard on the table as the two men say hello. “What seems to be the problem?”

“He hit his head,” the man who’s standing says.

“I’m fine,” the other assures you.

“Hard,” the first man points out.

The seated man rolls his eyes. “He’s overreacting.”

You narrow your eyes slightly and approach them. “What’s your name?” you ask the man with the apparent head injury, crouching down so that you can look at his face up close.

“Don’t you have my chart?” he asks. He's wearing a cheeky grin and you can tell that he's flirting.

“It’s Bradshaw,” the standing man says. “His name. And I’m Captain Mitchell.”

You glance up at the older man. “If you could refrain from answering for the patient, please, Captain,” you say, slightly annoyed.

“Right,” he nods. “I apologize.”

The seated man raises his eyebrows. “Well, that’s a first.”

You move to grab a chair and position yourself in front of him. “Full name and rank?”

“Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw. What’s yours?” the man asks with a bit of a smirk.

You tap on the name tag hanging off your lab coat coolly. You’re not unaccustomed to receiving this kind of attention, however it doesn’t happen too often at work. “What’s the date today, Lieutenant Bradshaw?” you ask casually, reaching for your clipboard.

“You don’t have a calendar, Doctor?” Bradley asks.

You glance up at him pointedly. “Are you always this cooperative?”

“This is the kind of shit I have to put up with on a daily basis, Doctor,” Captain Mitchell mutters.

“Well, that’s good news,” you say, smiling up at the man. When he furrows his eyebrows, you clarify, “No noticeable change in personality.”

Captain Mitchell grins wryly. “What a relief.”

Bradley snorts and starts to get up. “We’re done, then?” he asks.

“Not quite,” you say, indicating for him to sit back down.

Bradley sighs wearily but resumes his seated position across from you. He places his hands in his lap and lifts his eyes to meet your gaze with a skeptical expression.

“Are you experiencing any dizziness?” you ask.

“No,” he responds, keeping his eyes locked on yours.

You glance down at the clipboard in your hand, slightly unnerved that he’s so boldly watching you. “Headache or nausea?” you ask without looking back up.

“Nope,” he responds.

“Can you count backwards from 100 by seven?”

“Are you serious?” he asks.

You glance up at him sharply. “Would you like to conduct the examination, Lieutenant?”

He sighs and starts counting.

You stop him after several correct numbers and ask, “What is your profession?”

There’s a brief pause during which Bradley lets his head dip to the side to study the contours of your face. You glance up at him expectantly and he looks into your eyes again. “I’m an aviator,” he says nonchalantly, although you notice his chest puff up with pride. As if you don’t regularly meet pilots working at the health clinic on base.

You look down at your clipboard as though you’re reading the questions off the page but, really, you’re just avoiding his gaze because his eyes have a we’re-gonna-fuck look about them and you’re almost starting to fall for it. “Any previous head injuries?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” he responds, and you notice the sexy rasp in his voice despite trying very hard to ignore it.

“He crashed his bike into a tree when he was five,” Captain Mitchell chimes in.

Both you and Bradley look up at him with some amusement, having nearly forgotten he was there. You blink at the captain pointedly before returning your attention to the chart in your lap. “I hope he’s better at maneuvering these days,” you comment.

Bradley starts laughing which makes you look up at him in surprise. Captain Mitchell is also chuckling mildly. “He has his moments,” he says.

You give them a tight smile and rise from your seat, setting your clipboard down. Bradley stands too, towering over you because he’s still so close. You take a step back, nearly stumbling over your chair, and both Bradley and the captain grab your arms to keep you from falling.

“You alright?” Bradley asks.

You nod, straightening out your lab coat and pointing to his chair. “Sit, please,” you say, not meeting his gaze.

“You got it, Doc,” he says, sitting back down. Captain Mitchell smirks in amusement.

“Tell me what happened,” you say, approaching your patient confidently to perform a physical exam.

Both he and the captain start recounting two vastly different versions of the same event while you check Bradley’s vital signs. Once they’ve finished speaking and you’ve located the swelling on Bradley’s head, you glance between the two of them skeptically. Then you pull a penlight out of your lab coat and say, “Follow the light.”

You watch Bradley’s pupils constrict in response to the light but, when you move the penlight to one side, his eyes remain fixed on yours.

“The light, Lieutenant,” you remind him.

Bradley shifts his gaze to the right as instructed, but every time the movement of your penlight crosses the midpoint, he lets his eyes linger on yours for a split second. You flick off the light and observe as Bradley’s pupils return to normal size. His mouth quirks upward slightly but he never breaks eye contact.

“Good,” you say, dropping the penlight back into your pocket. “Now you can stand.”

Bradley gets out of his seat while Captain Mitchell watches on cautiously, as though he expects him to fall over. When the captain steps closer, Bradley holds out his hand.

“I’m fine, dad.” Bradley’s sarcastic tone indicates that the captain is, in fact, not his father, but his companion’s affectionate expression in response probably puts him in the category of loveable uncle who has frequently – albeit unsolicitedly – stepped into the role. Bradley straightens his back and looks over at you calmly, awaiting your instructions.

“Stand on one foot for me,” you say.

Bradley smirks. “Anything for you, Doc,” he says, bending his left leg upwards.

Captain Mitchell lets out a tired sigh, shaking his head, while you attempt to not roll your eyes. “You can put your foot down, Lieutenant,” you say crossly.

“You want me to put my foot down, Doc?” he responds suggestively.

“Rooster!” the captain warns.

“I’m kidding!” Bradley chuckles. “She knows.” He extends an arm out to point at you. “You know, right?” he verifies, glancing over at you.

“I apologise.” Captain Mitchell shakes his head again.

“That’s the second time,” Bradley notes.

You raise your eyebrows at the two of them. “Well,” you say. “That’s another good sign.”

“What?” they both ask.

“His sense of humor is intact,” you say.

Bradley grins at you. “You think I’m funny?”

The captain closes his eyes.

You fight to keep a straight face. “As long as you think you’re funny, Lieutenant.”

“Do you recommend treatment, Doctor?” Captain Mitchell asks.

You look at him with a small grin. “For the humor?”

Bradley snorts but the captain considers your question. “Might come in handy,” he says.

Bradley lets out a sarcastic, “Ha-ha.”

“No,” you say. “He’s fine.”

“Told you,” Bradley mutters to the captain.

“But,” you say, “if you start experiencing any of these symptoms” – you hand him a brochure on concussions – “come back in and we can do a more comprehensive assessment.”

Bradley takes the brochure from your hand. “I’ll do that,” he says with a nod.

…

As you’re heading back to your office, you notice Bradley eyeing you from the front desk. He mutters something to Captain Mitchell, in response to which the latter glances in your direction before looking back at Bradley pointedly. Then, he gives him a couple of claps on the shoulder and heads out the door.

Having arrived at the door to your office, you don’t linger to find out what Bradley is up to. But, just as you’re about to sit down at your desk, Bradley’s head peeks in through the partially open door. He drums on the doorframe with his knuckle despite already having gotten your attention.

“Was there something else, Lieutenant?” you ask, walking back around your desk toward him.

Bradley grins sheepishly. “May I come in?” he asks.

Truthfully, you’re surprised he’s not already inside. You gesture for him to enter.

“I uh,” he starts, hesitating when you meet his gaze. “I’m sorry,” he says, grimacing. “For being an idiot.”

You raise your eyebrows but give him a warm smile. “We can blame the head injury.”

Bradley nods slowly. “Let’s,” he says. “Although, I’m afraid it’s permanent.”

You chuckle. “Well, at least you’re self-aware.”

He cringes slightly but it quickly turns into a grin. He takes a deep breath, holding your gaze. “I like you,” he says bluntly.

You’re slightly taken aback by his directness, so you simply stare at him for a moment.

“I hope that’s okay,” he adds when you don’t say anything.

“Uh, sure,” you respond awkwardly, panicking slightly because he’s so tall and broad-shouldered and charming.

“I sort of want to take you out,” he says, taking a step forward.

You sort of wonder how often he pulls this kind of thing. You’re nothing if not a veteran skeptic. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

Bradley watches you with a knowing smirk. “But do you want to?” he asks.

You let out a nervous laugh, shaking your head. “Doesn’t matter.”

Bradley sticks his hands into his pockets, his eyes sweeping you up and down. “It matters to me,” he says.

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant. I can’t go out with a patient” –

“I’m not your patient anymore,” he says, the low rasp of his voice even more persuasive than his words.

“You’re a patient of this clinic,” you say.

“I can find another clinic,” he responds.

You lower your gaze, pursing your lips to keep from smiling too widely. “I work long hours, Lieutenant. I don’t exactly have much time to socialize.”

When you glance back up at him, Bradley flashes you a dazzling grin that demonstrates how fantastically unconvinced he is that your busy schedule is truly a reason for concern. “I haven't heard a no, Doctor,” he points out.

“You haven't heard a yes.”

Bradley chuckles. “That’s fine,” he says, taking several steps back toward the door. “I’m not in a hurry.” And with these words, he walks out of your office.

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shookuna · 4 months ago

Text

// HEATWAVE! // T FUSHIGURO

a/n: first post on tha new blog !!! eeee !!! this is dedicated to the lovely mickey @teddybeartoji <3 ty for being my FIRST OFFICIAL MOOT ! MY DAYONE ! take a lil soft!toji fic pls and thank u 🤲

wc: ~ 1k oops

summary: tired grumpy bf!toji is needy and annoying w/o cuddles. cw: nsf(w) ment, plus some tooth-rotting fluff <3

cuddling with toji was becoming a rare occurrence.

it was mid-july and swelteringly hot outside, even in the wee hours of the night. the a/c in your shared apartment was threatening to give out, and the shitty fan toji sloppily assembled did little to improve matters. so, deviating from your usual routine, you and toji fell asleep on opposite sides of the bed.

toji noticed the distance immediately, cracking one eye open to find you not curled into his side, like usual. the sight of you dead to the world, hair messily splayed across the pillow was enough to make his heart flutter. but even still, a frown tugged at the corner of his lips.

because goddammit, you did not get him used to this "cuddling" shit just to bail on him now.

you and toji met months ago at the dawn of fall, when the days were getting shorter and the nights were growing colder. your relationship was initially a fateful coincidence, a grocery store meet-cute that was as romantic as it was awkward. his series of brazen pick-up lines went right over your head (surely, you assumed, no one would tell you how good you'd look receiving backshots in the fucking frozen food aisle) but you still ended up giving toji your number that day.

and he's never been a religious man, but he was praising every god in the damn sky that you did.

one date was all it took for both of you to be locked in. he was a bad habit, an itch you couldn't help but scratch, irresistible. he was reckless, cocky at best and an asshole at worst, everything you weren't. needless to say, dating toji was against your better judgment. but for him, being with you was the first good decision he's made in a long time.

that's not to say things were perfect, or even easy. being with someone like you was so unfamiliar for someone like toji. loving you came as easy as breathing, but choosing you, choosing to work towards being a better version of himself... that was hard as shit. even small things took time, like physical intimacy. his body count was through the roof, so he had no issue when it came to having sex with you - but affection was a whole different story. it made him feel like he was in someone else's skin, someone weaker, someone who needed to be taken care of. it took til' mid-december, when the temperatures were practically sub-zero and frost crusted the ground, to get toji to warm up (no pun intended) to cuddling.

and now you'd gone and gotten him attached to this shit just to leave him high and dry?!

it didn't matter that your boyfriend was practically a walking furnace, heat radiating off of him in waves when he caged you in his strong arms. temperature be damned, toji thought, you started this, so you had to finish it.

"wake up." his gruff voice sounded out, a stark departure from the blanket of silence the night offered. when you only stirred slightly, he gave you a little shake. "oi, get y'r ass up. i'm talkin t' you."

at that firmer command, you rose your head, a displeased frown taking the place of your previous serene expression. "fushiguro, what in the ever-loving fuck are you doing waking me up at..." you paused, fumbling for your phone on the nightstand and checking the time. "...at three in the damn morning."

"don't gimme that shit. girl bye," toji grumbled, not sparing you so much as an apology for disturbing your sleep. you simply gave him a deadpan stare, making him scoff and roll over to his other side. "'s fine, not like i needed to hold ya to fall asleep anyway." he muttered bitterly into the pillow.

your eyes were already halfway closed when he turned around, but they immediately shot open when you heard his grumblings.

"what did you say? you need to cuddle me to fall asleep?" you perk up, pressing your hands on his shoulders to coax him into turning back around.

"i sure as hell didn't say 'cuddle'," he groused, but still turned around anyways. his voice might have sounded annoyed, but you knew your toji. the flicker of warmth in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

"heh, you said it just now, dummy." you grinned as you snuggled up to toji's chest, earning a flick to your forehead from the man in question. but you were unbothered, simply humming, "thought ya didn't like cuddling."

"y'r makin' assumptions," toji grumbled, the low, gravelly timbre of his voice sending shivers down your spine. "now quiet down so i can sleep."

at that, you scoffed in playful offense. "so you can sleep? you literally just woke me u-" you started, but he silenced effortlessly by pressing his lips against yours in a lazy, heated kiss.

when he pulled away, chest heaving with each hot puff of air, you were warm from way more than just the heat outside.

"go the fuck to sleep before i put you to sleep myself." he growled out, but there was no malice in his words - more of an invitation than a threat.

deciding to resist temptation this time, you settled back into his hold, your back flush against his chest. as you began to fade back into sleep, you heard toji whisper out, "meant what i said, y'know that? can't... can't sleep w' out you now."

the next words out of your mouth were simple, but they were all it took to put him at ease.

"i know, toji."

dawww <33 hope u like this fic everyone (esp mickey mwah mwah mwah) reblogs + comments appreciated !!

#hi mickey pls take my humble offering #christening the birth of this blog w a fic in yr honor my love #jjk x reader #jjk x you #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #shookuna.writes! જ⁀➴✒

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superhaught · 8 months ago

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Gym Class Heroes (Chapter Two)

Pairing: Regina George x Reader

Warnings: homophobia

Word Count: ~2300, Part 2/?

Part 1

Regina pursues her interest in protecting reader as she recovers from the basketball to the head.

Turns out, you did indeed have a mild concussion from the basketball incident, so you took the weekend and the following Monday off of school to rest and recuperate.

You were napping when your mom knocked lightly on your bedroom door and then came in. You woke up and saw that she had an armful of things.

“One of your school friends stopped by and brought your homework from today plus a card and some snacks, how sweet!”

You sat up and rubbed the sleep from your eyes, “one of my friends? Do you know who?”

“Oh I don’t know, sweetheart. She was blonde and tall and pretty.”

You couldn’t help your face from lighting up, “gimme the card!”

Your mom handed you everything and you tore open the envelope. It was a simple “get well soon” card but what you were most interested in was the handwritten note. The writer’s penmanship was exquisite, not that you were particularly surprised by that fact. The card smelled like her perfume, as if she had spritzed some on. She’s unreal, you thought. Fragrant notes of orange blossom and rose filled your nostrils and it was addictive.

The note read: Hey you, I hope you’re doing okay and aren’t too worried about getting behind on schoolwork. If you need help getting your homework done, I know a guy. Anyways, Shane got three days of suspension, which isn’t enough, imo. Text me if ur bored <3 R

She wrote her phone number at the end. You giggled and reread it in full, going as far as kicking your feet excitedly under your blankets.

“She seems like a sweet girl,” your mom pointed out.

Her voice brought you back to reality. You cleared your throat, “mom, my head is kind of hurting, can I go back to sleep?”

“Oh yeah, of course honey! Get some rest.”

“Thank you,” you set the card down next to you and laid back down as your mom left and once she closed the door behind her, you grabbed your phone and began typing a message to Regina’s number.

“Hey, ‘R’” you wrote.

The message delivered and the little typing-indicator dots showed up right away, then her message back came through, “I’m glad you didn’t keep me waiting ;)” then she sent a second message, “how are you feeling?”

Being stunned, you didn’t respond to Regina’s text right away. Your heart was pounding. You couldn’t believe that Regina, the queen bee of the school, the most popular girl, the previously-believed-to-be-completely-and-totally-straight-girl, was asking you out.

Another text from her popped up, “well don’t leave me hanging”

You decided that you wanted to call her. Maybe you felt like you needed to in order to confirm that this was actually real. You called and it rang twice and then you heard her voice through the phone.

She chuckled as she spoke, “hi…”

“Hi…” you said back, suddenly forgetting what words were.

“What did you want to say that couldn’t have been sent over text?”

“I just… you really want to date me?”

“Yes. I do. Is that really so shocking?”

“A little, yeah.”

“Well listen, I’ve had my eye on you for a while now. And, as I’m sure you are aware, I’m used to getting what I want.”

You shuddered and then replied, “Regina… I’d love to go out with you.”

The two of you continued to talk on the phone well into the night. It was Regina who insisted that you hang up and go to bed to get some good sleep before coming to school tomorrow. The blonde also offered to pick you up in the morning and drive you to school herself. You, of course, accepted.

You went to sleep feeling lighter than air.

In the morning, you got ready for school with more zeal than you ever had in your life. Your mother wondered out loud whether you had been replaced overnight by an entirely different person. You just smiled and said that you were happy and feeling better.

There was a car horn honk from your driveway and your mom kissed your cheek goodbye as you left your home.

Regina was sitting in her black Jeep, using her mirror to fix her hair. She smiled at you as you came out of your house and approached the passenger side of her car. She leaned and reached over, cracking the door open for you and then offering you her hand to hold as you stepped up into the car.

You sat down and tossed your backpack into the backseat.

She smiled again, looking you over, “you look so cute!” Regina then gently caressed her thumb over the bruise on your forehead from the basketball, “and this is looking much better.”

You looked her up and down as well and smiled, “you look incredible…”

“Thanks, baby.”

She had called you ‘baby’ on the phone the night before as well. The affection made your heart flutter.

She continued, “get buckled, let’s go.”

Regina drove you both to school and parked in her spot in the student lot. It wasn’t an assigned parking spot or anything, it was just the closest spot to her preferred entrance and it was hers by way of having scolded anyone who had ever dared to park there.

When you got out of the car, Regina walked over to you and took your hand in hers.

Surprised, you said, “you know, we haven’t actually gone out yet…”

“I know that. Do you mind if I hold your hand anyway? Do I have to wait before I can show you off?”

“I don’t mind,” you smiled.

Regina walked you into the school and immediately, all eyes were on the two of you. You half expected Regina to drop your hand but she didn’t. You glanced over at her and she was proud. Beaming even.

She squeezed your hand a little tighter and looked at you, “you okay?”

You nodded your head, “I am.”

Regina went with you to your locker and leaned against the adjacent locker while you put your backpack away. Then Regina noticed that you had a small magnetic mirror in your locker and she came up behind you and wrapped her arms around you from behind and looked into the mirror.

“We look good together, don’t we?”

You looked at the image in the mirror and thought she was right. With her bright blonde locks draped over your shoulders, her manicured fingers touching your neck, her cheek pressed against yours, it was a dream come true.

“It’s way too easy for me to get lost in you…”

“I feel the same way, baby.”

At that point, Gretchen and Karen approached, locating Regina as if they had a homing beacon to her. Gretchen flashed you a polite smile and said, “you look mostly recovered!”

Karen stared at you with wide eyes and said, “don’t worry, I’ve been knocked out by a basketball too! It happens to everyone.”

You thought about objecting to her statement in some way but then you just nodded.

Regina grabbed your hand again and touched your cheek, turning you to face her, “you’ll sit with us at lunch, right?”

“Oh sure! If you want me to…”

“Of course, silly! Well, you know where to find me, then. I’ll see you later.” Regina pulled you into a hug and squeezed you tightly against her chest. And for the first time in your life, you felt genuinely wanted.

The next two days went by fast. Regina took over driving you to and from school and your mom thanked her profusely for giving her a break. You joined Regina, Gretchen and Karen for lunch, sometimes you were also joined by Cady, Janis and Damien, now that things had gotten less tense between those two trios in the aftermath of the junior year dramatics.

Regina was extremely attentive to you. You naturally fell into habits of taking care of each other, Regina looking out for you as you continued to recover from your concussion, and you paying attention to her chronic pain flare ups and making sure she was monitoring her POTS symptoms.

You and Regina agreed to go on your first official date together that weekend, but she certainly was not hesitating to claim you as hers in the meantime. In those 48 hours, there was already an instagram and twitter account dedicated to shipping the two of you and you overheard a lot of talk about your sudden closeness and Regina’s obvious protection over you.

It all came to a head the day that Shane Oman was back at school.

At lunch, Regina showed up to the table a few minutes later than what was typical for her, and she was dragging Shane by his shirtsleeve until she shoved him right in front of you.

You set your lunch down and looked at him, then Regina, who shoved him again and said, “well, go ahead.”

Shane rolled his eyes, “fine… I’m sorry…”

Regina’s arms were crossed but she smirked a little, clearly proud of herself.

“Sorry that you’re a disgusting fucking carpetmuncher!” Shane finished, yelling loud enough for the entire cafeteria to hear and immediately cease their conversations, turning all of their attention to your table.

Gretchen covered her own mouth in shock. Janis and Damien's jaws both dropped open. Karen was staring at something on the ceiling. Cady whispered “oh my gosh” under her breath.

You just froze and stared.

Regina lurched forward and gripped the back of Shane’s shirt collar, pulling him backwards by it in a swift motion and basically choking him with the fabric, “what the fuck did you just say?” she growled.

Shane coughed, “I… I… said… carpetmuncher… and I’m not sorry… and I don’t believe for one second… that you’re falling for this… this… dyke!”

“Oh? You don’t?” Regina pushed Shane down to the ground and he collapsed to his knees and rubbed his neck as Regina let him go. Regina walked over to you and took your face in her hands. One second, her face was red with fury, but when she looked down at you, she immediately softened. She pulled you close to her and then pressed her lips to yours.

It wasn’t how you imagined how your first kiss with Regina would have gone, but you wouldn’t have changed anything about it.

She kissed you so tenderly. Your senses were completely overwhelmed by the softness of her lips, the taste of her lip gloss, the smell of her hair, the feel of her tongue just teasing your bottom lip. Regina held the kiss for a long time and you held her waist.

You knew everyone’s eyes (and cameras) were on you, but you couldn’t have cared less. You had Regina, and that’s all that mattered.

When Regina pulled away, she kept eye contact with you for a moment and smiled, assuring you that she kissed you because she wanted to, not just to prove a point. She came back to give you one more quick and gentle kiss before returning her attention to the pathetic man on the ground.

“Next time you want to say anything derogatory to my baby here, you better be fucking prepared to say it to me, too, Shane. And I don’t think I need to spell out the absolute shithole you will find yourself in if you do that.”

Shane stared at her with wide, terrified, eyes.

“Now get the fuck out of my sight.” Regina added.

Shane scrambled to his feet and sprinted out of the cafeteria as Regina took her seat next to you with closed eyes and exhaled a breath through her nose to calm herself.

You leaned your head on her shoulder and whispered, “thank you, Gina.”

She turned her head and kissed your temple, “of course, baby.”

#regina george #regina x reader #regina george x reader #regina george fanfic #mean girls #mean girls 2024 #regina george renee rapp #reneé rapp #my fanfiction #my writing #original writing #gym class heroes

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judysxnd · 9 months ago

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Some cute moments with Lando

All those little moments could be separate stories and could be more elaborated. Let me know if you want me do fully write them!

Had this in my drafts for a while, I thought I would add more but I actually didn’t, I know it’s not much but.. yeah, I’m still putting it out 🤷🏻‍♀️

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number one:

Your both preparing dinner together. Neither of you are great cooks but sometimes you try. You put the tv on, on some music channels. “Gimme love” by Sia came on. You both started to sing and dance. You ended up pausing dinner and dancing in the kitchen.

At the end you said “I missed having you in the kitchen” he had a big smile, giving you a quick kiss on the lips.

“me too, I don’t like being away from you” you blushed as you couldn’t help but smile. You were staring at the food you were preparing, too shy to look at Lando.

number two:

Lando travels a lot, and unfortunately you cannot always be with him. But he never stops thinking about you. He always brings you back little souvenirs. Even when he just wanders in Monaco without you, he always brings you something.

Like one time, you were coming back from work. You were staying at his place for the night. When you came back home, he gave you a small pocket. Inside there was a little scrunchie with little cherries on it. He knows you love scrunchies, and he also knows cherries are your favorite fruits. He always thinks about you, buy you little things because he knows you love it. He loves to spoil you.

number three:

It’s more a heated moment but you found it cute how Lando was desperate for you. You ordered some new set of underwear a week ago and finally received them. You unpacked them but didn’t try them on yet because you had to leave in a few.

So you left them there, totally innocently on the bed, for you once you’ll be back. But Lando came back before you, and he was very (pleased) surprised when he saw what you ordered. That’s when you started to receive a few texts, Lando asking where you were and when you would be back. Once the reason of his impatient texts was revealed, he kept begging you to come back quickly.

“I can pick you up” he even texted

“and what about my car?” you responded

“We’ll get it later” he answered

He was eager to have you back home so that you could try the undies before he took them off of you. You couldn’t help but laugh at his behavior. After dating him for a while, nothing ever changed, he was still so obsessed with you, as much as you were with him. And let me tell you that once you were back, oh boy, it got very heated.

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askew-d · 11 months ago

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WANGXIAN FICS MASTERLIST

• tonight i can write the saddest lines, by sarahyyy — post-canon amnesiac lan wangji getting to know wei wuxian again. amazing! i love this author, sincerely.

• deconstruct, by flowercity (faorie) — a soulmate au in which what you write in your skin appears in the other person’s. i’ll admit that soulmate aus aren’t my cup of tea, however i quite liked this one!

• resonant frequencies, by chinxe — the infamous fake relationship story. with wangxian, this works so well! just amazing.

• between the lines, by fading_fast — modern setting au with wangxian meeting through a game. love these strange meetings and this one’s damn enjoyable.

• something real, by latios — wangxian wrong number au involving bunny pictures. i need more wrong number aus for them!! gimme!!

• all your life you’ll dream of this, by attila — cinderella au but with wei wuxian as prince charming. a fantastic story, i was so engaged in this it’s a wonder.

• ⭐️🎖️ one good thing, by yuu_chi — wei wuxian’s a ghost haunting his childhood house until lan wangji appears. seriously, everything about this plot charmed me. i’m enchanted.

• of rabbits and men, by shoutowo — wei wuxian turning into a rabbit and making his way into lan wangji’s heart for the second time. anything more wangxian than this?

• ⭐️ rumor has it, by ulan — post-canon cql in which wei wuxian comes back to “haunt” his rumored cultivation partner. the softness in this killed me.

• ⭐️🎖️ a little happiness, by suspicious_popsicle — lan wangji gets cursed and is transformed into his child version. so lovely to see!! i’m surprised i can read this for free.

• critical path analysis, by chinxe — brooklyn 99 au with wangxian in that episode where they make a bet and wei wuxian takes wangji on a terrible date that’s not terrible at all!

• ⭐️ some of you, by tangerine chair — social media au where lan wangji’s an actor and posts a suspicious tweet about his love life. incredible story, really.

• ⭐️ this should definitely happen, by yeolinski — wei wuxian waking up high in anesthesia and hitting on the hot guy who’s there with him. this is so goddamn funny, i swear i can’t.

• linger in the sun, by etymologyplayground — wangxian are cursed to not hear or see one another. i loved this a lot, it’s terrific.

• another way, by anonymous — wei wuxian sneaks outside to buy emperor smile’s again, and once again encounters lan wangji. i’m frustrated this doesn’t have as many kudos as it deserves, tbh.

• life, drama and action, by akai_hana — one more social media au with wangxian as a famous couple. awesome story.

• inebriation and affections, by chewing — wei wuxian gets drunk and shows his clingy attitude. it’s great to see him like that for the first time, thank you author 🙏🏼

• ⭐️ the inquiries of the heart, by ziane — very much alike “another way”, but this one has a sequel. it’s a whole show alright. a hella nice canon-divergence.

• 我在, by tangerinechair — wei wuxian comforting lan wangji in the xuanwu cave. something i deeply needed to read.

• facilitated diffusion, by chinxe — lan wangji can’t stop ordering stuff just to see the cute delivery worker. at this point i’m bookmarking every work by this author, ngl.

• ⭐️ you, asleep and dreaming, by etymologyplayground — post-canon cql that’ll haunt your mind but that you need to check out if you haven’t already.

• a wild heart to tame mine, by theroyalsavage — superheroes au in a soft perspective and amazing plot, liked every bit.

• ⭐️ a song you’ve never heard, by arahir — wei wuxian’s fatally injured and lan wangji… well, you can imagine. it’s heartbreaking and heartwarming all in between.

• ⭐️ to wing your soul with jasmines, by enemyofrome — while reaching gusu, wei wuxian starts sending flowers to lan wangji. cql post-canon. i could die basking on this adorable story.

• dear hanguang-jun, by cavaleira — people start sending letters asking for relationship advice from lan wangji and he gives it to them. whoa, the entertainment!

• ⭐️🎖️ two guys r in love thats literally it, victortor — wei wuxian traveling back to his old self and meeting lan wangji again. it’s a shame we didn’t hear more from this author in this fandom for a long time. where are you?? come back to give us more of this gay lil beasts. i absolutely love this and the title makes it more interesting. iconic.

• concessions to love, by besanii — arranged marriage wangxian. it’s well-noted and well-written. it rocks!

• “congratulations, get rich”, by attila — it’s chinese new year and wei wuxian wants to do things differently. incredibly done.

• atlas, by etymologyplayground — if you want a crossover between hob and mdzs, here it is. and it’s amazing!

• soft-hearted, by sarahyyy — canon-divergence where wei wuxian ends up in the lan sect. it’s so soft, just as the name tells us!

• seldom all they seem, by fahye — here we go with one more arranged marriage au. this one’s rated e, surely a ride! worth every bit.

• and in the spring i shed my skin, by wvlfqveen — shapeshifter lan wangji in a modern with magic au where they’re professors. do i need to say more? all too good, all too good

• love & longing, rabbit edition, by jaws_3 — lan wangji gets turned into a rabbit and looks for wei wuxian for help. do you sense a pattern? yes, maybe i love the idea of lan wangji as a bunny. in fact, i recommend every story by this author and many others but i’ll just be adding by absolute favorites. and this one’s fabulous.

• 在此恭迎夷陵老祖; to yiling laozu, the great and venerable, by yiqie — we had people writing letters to hanguang-jun asking for advice and now it’s people writing letters to the yiling patriarch! also gorgeous.

• 1 unread message, by bittersweetirony — office au where wei wuxian keeps receiving emails from an admirer. short and very sweet!

• ⭐️ the stars in the hazy heaven tremble above you, by cicer — wherein wei wuxian’s ciderella and wangji’s prince charming. i could read this over and over and never get tired. in fact, i did.

• ⭐️🎖️ only the deepest love, by occultings (microcomets) — pride and prejudice fusion. everything’s a bliss, magically and wonderfully so. i fell in love with this masterpiece. in fact, read everything by this author!! highly recommend. especially three days gone, if you go searching rabbits and a life in your shape!

• beneath six layers of silk, by darkredloveknot (enheduane) — lan wangji’s cursed to speak every thought of his out loud. come on, who never wanted to check what this guy’s thinking? perfect!

• ⭐️ let me come home, by cafecliche — seven nights with wangxian being sappy. i could dream about this piece of art. really.

• ⭐️🎖️ i hope that you will come and meet me, by feyburner — another post-canon cql where wangxian slowly get together. i find this particularly devastating and so beautiful.

• the ocean between us, by catbrainedschemes — this is for those who watched the legend of the blue sea, yes, the k-drama! because this is a fusion of it, where wei wuxian is a mermaid.

• call me, beep me, by myung — a whole social media au in another level! they are all actors and i love this idea so much. myung-laoshi big brained, tis glorious story right here made a lot happier.

• and his wanting grows teeth, by yukla — cultivator lan wangji finding wei wuxian in a village, an au in canon setting as the tag says. it's devasting how good this is, really.

• 🎖️ how to fall in love with a catfish: a guide by wei wuxian (disaster rat), by bwyn, yuisaki — wei wuxian finds a catfish trying to be the famous lan wangji. turns out, of course, that it's not a catfish. can we talk about this story more? the sheer hurt/comfort of it, and how it's the perfect rom-com slash drama depiction? i want this as a real show! new york, i love you, by yuisaki also gorgeous!

• listen to the voice inside your head, by pupeez4eva— wei wuxian wakes up to his future-self voice inside his head. it's telling him suspicious things. the amount of giggles i let it slip. in fact, i recommend every work by this author because they always makes me laugh!

• 🎖️ the breaking of your soul (upon my lips), by sunsandships — canon-divergence where wei wuxian discovers that lan wangji's the one who kissed him without his consent. that changes everything. just... magnificent fix-up story, as i said so in my bookmark.

• love on 35mm, by fakeplasticlily — film student lan wangji and wei wuxian as the brother of lan wangji's best friend. my heart was aching during this.

• neatly arranged, by thunderwear — wei wuxian and lan wangji are betrothed, against their own wills. do we have enough wangxian arranged marriage content? no, we do not.

• ⭐️🎖️paint smears on sunny days, by snowshadowao3 — lan wangji's son, lan yuan, has a favorite teacher, and that's wei-laoshi, art professional and also an expert at getting into lan wangji's heart. i will dive DEEP into teacher wei wuxian concept. this one's so wholesome, i could Die.

• 🎖️the absolutely true story of the yiling patriarch: a manifesto in many parts, by aubreyli — the juniors decide to make up wei wuxian's reputation by creating a book of his stories with hanguang-jun. it goes well. one time or another. haha, i love the juniors, they are so creative when making wangxian get together.

• ⭐️🎖️ pigtail pulling, by protos_metazu_isson — lan wangji decides to face wei wuxian's pigtail pulling face to face. that goes better than the expected and worse that what he further imagined. it's surely one of stories i keep on rereading from time to time, especially because it's not big and it's so CUTE!! help.

• ⭐️🎖️ your hand in mine, by cerbykerby — wangxian cursed to hold each other's hand. i could scream while i'm are. come on, this is one of the best stories here, it's short and so sweet, so fitting for them too. perfect, perfect.

• ⭐️ as you like it, by cosmicmilktea — wei wuxian starts to discover what's lan wangji likes. it's what he should know as his husband, after all. IT'S WHAT WE NEED AND DESERVE.

• after the final rose, by azulewaxwing — the bachelor au, because who doesn't want a lan wangji for themselves? turns out, the cameraman attracts his attention more than any contestant could. absolute fire.

• your heartbeat, across the grass, by fakeplasticlily — former classmates with now wei wuxian babysitting and lan wangji as a famous football player. aaah, just imagining lan wangji playing football, as a brazilian, it gives me chills.

• grow, by cafecliche — age degression wei wuxian troubling cloud recesses and the juniors. i love this idea! love a tiny wei wuxian. he deserves good things.

• obedient and bellicose, by thunderwear — an ella the enchanted au where, as per say, lan wangji has to follow every rule. oh, what an incredible fusion. it fits so well, even.

• ⭐️ at least in this lifetime, by etymologyplayground — aaaah i'm sighing over this again. this story's pure sweetness. diabetes. fluff. outstanding. basically, it's just wangxian getting married.

• ⭐️🎖️ i'm the one for your fire, by occultings (microcomets) — a cherry magic au, where wei wuxian can reads mind and discovers lan wangji from the office is actually into him. and maybe he's also into lan wangji. but like, in a no homo kinda way. of course! (denial's a river on africa, dear.)

• ⭐️ look not with the eyes, by spodumene — a case fic post-canon cql where everyone who knows lan wangji starts to devote themselves to him and it doesn't work on wei wuxian. why would that be? i wonder.

• ⭐️🎖️ sweet chaos, by eachandeverydimension — it took me a long time to finish this because everything was so good i wanted to feel it forever. wangxian arranged marriage where they're fourteen and lan wangji goes spend the time with him at yunmeng.

• ⭐️🎖️ your words upon my lips, by uchiuchi — during a nighthun, wangxian get cursed, what one says comes on the other's lips. this killed me, it's so freaking funny and overall over the top.

• ⭐️🎖️ linger by the door (i've always been yours), by piecrust — epistolary wangxian! post-canon cql! introspection! slow burn! everything i could ever want in just one fic. and the letters are unbearably beautiful.

• my heart skips a beat (so my gut can feel the punch), by piecrust — wangxian taking the long way back home. i always wonder how these pretty stories come into an author's mind.

• we sit in the sunset glow, by moonsteps — tangled au where wei wuxian's flynn rider and wangji's rapunzel. thank you, dear author, indeed wangxian came straight out of a fairy tale movie and we deserve more fics like this!

•⭐️not in so many words, by jaws_3 — getting hananaki through a curse after he flirts with the wrong florist, wei wuxian starts dealing with the consequences of his actions. a masterpiece. and so, so lovely, gimme more. this author also has many darling works.

• ⭐️tickling sleeping dragons, by fallingfeathers — a hogwarts au with wei wuxian as a troublemaker gryffindor and lan wangji as a rigorous ravenclaw! perfect, isn't it? the development's awesome as well.

• blooming into the color of love, series by leffy — actors wei wuxian and lan wangji, who are judged to be rivals, have to work together for a tv show. and they have sex scenes at that. so enjoyable!

• love potion no. 9, by ria_green — one more hogwarts au where amortentia's involved, so you can imagine what happens. short and soft.

• the rivers start to sing, by fruitys — another tangled au but this time with wei wuxian as rapunzel and lan wangji as flynn rider. it's a marvel that we have two tangled aus in here! phenomenal. mountains, we met by this author (every work of theirs, actually) are also worth every bit!

•⭐️blue-ribbon bunny, by cicer — shapeshifter lan wangji is forced into a shift after getting tired at work and wei wuxian finds him. bunji won my heart, i want to pet him! wei wuxian, you lucky fool.

•⭐️no more looking, i've found home, by annadream — more epistolary wangxian! more post-canon cql! getting together! once again, with terrific letters. i'm astonished with these author's mind.

•⭐️🎖️teen project to change the world, by animeloverhomura — mdzs characters watching mdzs donghua!!! please, this is my utmost FAVORITE! ever! i'm also translating this into portuguese, for those who wanna check in the start note (i'm slowly updating it, im sorry). but aaah, how sensational this work is!!

• an impromptu visit to the city, by bosbie — lan wangji time travels into a modern time and wei wuxian finds him there! oh, this is precious, they are the best.

• heartkeeper, by postingpebbles — bunny lan wangji again, but this ain't modern times, and it's also fascinating. the arts in these made me so warm inside, too.

• ⭐️🎖️the one-body problem, by metisket — during a ritual, lan jingyi's possessed and wei wuxian's on his body with him. waahhh, i couldn't help but chuckle during every part of this, it's well-written and freaking nice to see them bonding. jingyi and wei wuxian being buddies owns my life.

• ⭐️🎖️no certainty of doors between us, by betts — this is the story that HAUNTS me. i read this every once in a while because it's goddamn FANTASTIC. just roommates wangxian with wangji complaining about wei wuxian but being head over heels in love with the man. chaotic, amusing and flawless!!!

• ⭐️🎖️covered in bees, by scarlettstorm— apiary au with wei wuxian freaking out over bees at his doorstep, but then lan wangji comes to aid. and of course, chemistry sparks. and there are bees everywhere. and my heart's melted.

•🎖️lavender blue, by ana_cp — wei wuxian's a florist for a wedding and lan wangji's a cook, they meet and don't stop meeting afterwards. everything about this work is excellent!

•⭐️ wrong turn, right place, by diamondbruise — more time-travel au! this time, it's wei wuxian who goes to cloud recesses coming from his modern time. one of my favorite quotes from all the fics i've read it's in here. such an exquisite work.

• hello, it. have you tried turning it off and on again?, by overmountainandmeadow — here we have modern setting, office wangxian, it superior lan wangji, juniors as interns and other great plots. stunning work!

• diamonds are wei wuxian's worst enemy, by thefaceofno — lan wangji says he wants to marry, and wei wuxian thinks it's with another person. of course it isn't. so he helps plan his own wedding. coming from our best fool, that's expected, really. splendid!

• secretary lan, series by silverclaw — exactly what it says, lan wangji as his husband's secretary and everybody thinks wei wuxian's cheating on their spouse with... well, his spouse. it's absurdly good.

• our hands clasped so tight, by chapter_61 — wangxian get stuck in a library and conversations ensue. i like the idea of fics with a lot of dialogue, and this one didn't fail to surprise and light me up! lovely!

• ⭐️connected: unknown number, by phoenixking25 — wrong number aus always have my heart, and wow, how good this one is. truly excellent, with the perfect lenght. the ones i read are always so short, but this is longer! a win for the wrong number lovers.

• cut through the clouds, break the ceiling, by tardigradeschool — modern setting with our adorable boys including a drunk confession. i'm not lying when i say this is so delightful, i want to print it out and keep it.

• who could stay? you could stay, by martyrsdaughter — neighbours au, where wei wuxian's a bit intruding. maybe too much. but lan wangji likes him anywhere. what is there not to like? haha, a whole awesome read.

• ⭐️ be gay, do crime, by merelydovely — lan wangji thinks wei wuxian, the guy who invaded his home one afternoon and petted his bunnies, is a bad guy. he's not. hilarious and brilliant!

• ⭐️don't threaten me with a good time, by livinginaworldofnoise — ridiculously funny! basically, a great british bake off au with wei wuxian being a lil demon. i want this to be printed and delivered during my funeral, thank you very much.

• ⭐️as the clouds part and clear, we finally meet again, by 12262325 — lan wangji, as a kid, encounters wei wuxian, who's older than him. they keep on encountering each other, and lan wangji keeps on falling in love with his senior. aah, i'm in love with this work! i can't stop rereading!

• as if you were a mythical thing, by daltoneering — a vague steampunk au as the author suggest, and it absolutely rocks! i wish this had even more hits, as it deserves.

you can check my wangxian bookmarks on ao3 for more recs! i’d just like to note again that this is, of course, based on my own opinion. regardless if these stories are famous or not, i wanted to make this list for my enjoyment and for those who want more wangxian content, either they’re old here or if they’re just entering the fandom :)

as always, i’m accepting other recs if you have those. check my pinned tweet for more of my stuff and thank yoou!

#wangxian fic #wangxian #mdzs #the untamed fic #wangxian fic rec #mdzs fic #mdzs fic rec #lan wangji #wei wuxian

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wowcatboys · 1 year ago

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HI honeyy I love ur blog!!! can u please write the headcanons for kayn and K/da f!reader...how do the two of them explain their relationship to their fans or maybe they give a moment in a few shows?

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HEARTSTEEL KAYN: K/DA READER ♡ Female Reader ♡ SFW, with slight touching/sensuality ♡ No TWs ♡ THIS GOT SO LONG. I am willing to write more for this situation, since I had to cut a lot of my OG ideas to make room for what felt the most important...truly Kayn floods my mind and cannot be expressed or exhausted

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

KAYN

When Akali dragged you along to one of Kayn's birthday parties, all she wanted was a drinking buddy to keep her company while Kayn was doing, quote, "birthday boy shit". She wasn't expecting you and Kayn to hit it off so well. She definitely wasn't expecting to find you two wedged in a coat closet, shoving your tongues down each other's throats. She had two words for Kayn as she linked her arm in yours and tugged you out from between a leather jacket and an 80's windbreaker; "Do. not."

But, after two torturously long weeks of you never shutting up about Kayn during rehearsals, and Kayn texting her so much she has to threaten to block him for any sort of peace and quiet (at all hours of the night and day, "hey gimme your hot friend's number", over and over AND OVER AND OVER), Akali comes around. She's just worried for you. Kayn's got quite the reputation, and she doesn't want him to fuck around with you and break your heart. But, she figures, you're both adults, so who is she to stand in the way of whatever you've got going on. So she eventually texts Kayn your number, but not without a warning; "you remember I know martial arts, yeah? and that I can totally kick your fucking ass? don't break my girl's heart dipshit".

On the whole, K/DA supports your budding relationship with Kayn. Even though he's a bit wild, the group's whole thing is about being individual and true to yourself—it seems hypocritical to tell you that you can't be caught holding hands with Kayn in line at Chipotle anymore for the sake of the band's image.

Heartsteel is a bit more tentative about you and Kayn. Alune's nervous to have Kayn dating such a high-profile star when Heartsteel has literally JUST broken onto the scene. But, this is Kayn, after all. What are they going to ask him to do, stop seeing you? He wouldn't listen. Besides, you do seem like a good influence in his life, and if the way his eyes light up whenever he sees your name pop up on his phone screen say anything, he's crazy about you. Eventually Alune sways other management and teams to embrace your relationship, as long as the two of you try to keep it relatively low-key.

If anyone ever implies he's with you to boost Heartsteel's fame or that he's trying to ride K/DA's coattails to the top, Kayn blows up. "We don't need shit from anybody," he sneers, "we're gonna climb to the top all by our fucking selves. Oh, and if you think (Y/N) would settle for anything less than a born rockstar? You're fucking stupid."

For your part, you're more subtle when publicly discussing your relationship with Kayn, but you still shoot down any ideas that he's with you for your status. "Heartsteel definitely doesn't need K/DA's help," you assert. "They're superstars and they're earning their spot on the music scene fair and square."

Kayn is your absolute fucking biggest superfan. He knows your lyrics front-to-back, he shows up to every single event he can, and he even uses Ezreal's Mercari account to snag rare merch that's being resold. Kayn tries to play it cool, but come on. You've seen the amount of posters he tries to hide in his closet. Only a fanboy has a collection like that.

There's hundreds of paparazzi photos of you two floating around on the internet, and Kayn's got a love-hate relationship with that fact. On the one hand, he loves being seen with you—what better way to claim you as his own than a photo of him literally grabbing your ass on the cover of a trashy gossip mag? On the other hand, can't a guy get some goddamn privacy? He hates that he has to share you with anyone, prying 'journalists' included. To make light of it, though, you two have started a little game. You send each other the wildest claims you can find about your relationship, trying to one up the other. Kayn's still winning with the article claiming that he's exercising some kind of mind-control to make you his girlfriend.

Flipping off the camera and open-mouth kissing you is one of Kayn's favorite poses to strike if he notices paparazzi lurking. For your part? You're just happy for his attention.

Kayn loves when you sneak into his shows. You usually have to wear a hoodie and go incognito to avoid getting mobbed, but don't worry, Kayn can pick you out of a crowd no matter what you're wearing. Sometimes, if you're standing close enough to the stage, he'll take off his shirt and toss it at you. He gets off on the attention, on thousands of people all-but-worshipping him, and if his favorite person is in the throng, knowing his worst parts but screaming for him alongside everyone else, just the same? Ego-boost of the fucking century. He may not express it to you often, but he really, really appreciates when you come see his shows.

Your packed schedules present a challenge, and Kayn despises the fact that you're often touring hours away from him. He still tries to talk to you as much as possible, even if it's not in person. Expect daily FaceTime calls, frequent Discord DM's, and around the clock blurry pictures of Kayn causing mischief.

Bless Akali's heart because Kayn absolutely harasses her about you. Whenever you're busy, he bugs her; "tell my gf to come back from the ded". Anytime you're on tour, he Venmoes her money to buy you your favorite fast food. She complains to you constantly—"tell your purse dog to stop yipping at me"— but really, she doesn't mind spoiling you by proxy. She's just happy that Kayn dotes on you so much.

Kayn jokes about making you late for rehearsal a lot—especially if he's halfway down your neck in a heated makeout sesh—but the truth is, that's never going to happen. Sure, he dicks around a lot, but he never gives less than one-hundred-and-ten to Heartsteel and he's not about to let you slack off, either. That includes making sure you get to your K/DA commitments on time (even if your neck is littered with hickies).

Kayn loves when you show him your choreography. He listens intently as you explain how to go through the steps, or complain about what you're struggling with. Often, he'll offer critique; "you look a little off-balance, try standing this way," or "Have you tried positioning a little more to the left?". Sometimes, these are genuine tips. Most of the time, though, he's just looking for an excuse to feel you up. What better way to sneakily touch your boobs than "suggesting" your chest needs to come out more?

#heartsteel #heartsteel headcanons #heartsteel kayn #kayn #heartsteel x reader #kayn x reader #kayn/reader #sheida kayn #k/da

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samoankpoper21 · 5 months ago

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Dasher - Gojo Satoru

A/N I've stumbled upon a couple posts online where dashers have gotten upset because they weren't tipped enough and I wasn't trying to be part of that narrative 😅; I ordered food this week and I felt bad because I didn't have enough to tip the dasher via card so I texted them letting them know hey sorry funds are a bit tight but I can only tip you this much, thankfully they were understanding! To all the dashers y'all are real ones! Enjoy~!!

Grabbing your meal Satoru glanced down at his phone when he saw Tip: $0. You've gotta be shitting me. Shortly after his short inner monologue he received a text from you:

Hi! I know you're probably wondering why I'm not tipping you but I usually tip with cash. I'll have your tip ready as soon as you get here. Thanks!"

Scrolling through Satoru noticed that you had selected the "hand to me" option making his way to your apartment.

Ringing your door bell he stepped back mindlessly scrolling when you peeled the door open smiling causing him to gasp aloud. You were beautiful. He took in your full, chubby figure as you were wearing an oversized black Jujutsu Kaisen tshirt with denim shorts that were squeezing the tops of your thighs deliciously, Satoru internally groaning when he noticed you were wearing white thigh high socks. "Wow," you say breaking him out of his reverie. Satoru?"

"Oh. I'm sorry. I thought I died and went to heaven." Playfully rolling your eyes you say, "Gimme a minute. Mind holding my door so I can get the tip?"

"Your number and our first date will do just fine." Blushing your rush off Satoru letting out a low whistle as he watched the way the shirt grazed your ass, riding up as you ran towards your purse. "Sorry," you shout. "I read somewhere online that sometimes you guys don't get the full tip so I figured it's the least I can do since you're going out of your way to get my food."

"'s no problem at all sweetcake."

"You're just layin' it on real thick ain't ya? Found it!" Rushing back towards him you hand him the $20. "There." Satoru swears that with your smile he could feel the heat traveling from the top of his head all the way down to his tippy toes. Hating having to end your first meeting abruptly he reluctantly hands over the food as he says, "Do me a favor sweets: next time a male dasher comes to deliver your food don't have them holding your door; there's all types of weirdos roaming the streets."

Giggling you ask, "So you wouldn't be considered a weirdo?"

Playfully clutching at his broken heart he quips, "I'm offended you would even think that about me." A comfortable silence settled when you reluctantly say, "Well it was nice talking to you. I'm glad you got your tip. Thank you Satoru."

"I was bein' serious you know."

"Hm?"

"About your number and a date. I'll take that as a tip any day over $20." Your face growing hotter, you bite your lip, nodding your head as you spout out 7 digits.

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jolalibrary · 1 year ago

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iii - just say that you need me

javier peña x f!reader | chapter three of late night texts

summary: It's the year 2000. Javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop's ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. The only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.

chapter warnings: fluff. flirting. continuous romcom vibes. an: the amount of people who look forward to tuesday's makes me grin. for those who are new, i don't have a tag list. wordcount: 2.6k.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

You should say yes more.

to you or to my pop

To your pop. I know you wouldn’t say no to me.

you sure about that

I’d bet my next paycheck on it.

for you I’ll say yes to him once

Good. Now we have that out the way answer what the worst date you’ve ever been on was

shit. going with the hard hitting questions today

Just getting you to share, open up

probably when I first came back from colombia someone from my town where I live

They a bad host, bad dinner guest? Gimme more Javi cmon. You said you’d entertain me.

baby, im trying to entertain you but you told me to stop

I said stop flirting while I’m eating and answer the question

she wouldn’t stop asking me for details on escobar

Ah. Yeah I can see how discussing that would be a mood killer.

yeah didn’t wanna go in the first place either

So if we ever meet, do not ask about your Colombian experience. Got it.

you can ask, doesn’t mean I’d tell you

Ha! Good to know. I wouldn’t though. If you wanna tell me, I think you will.

thanks, what’s yours?

Well I was stood up when we first began texting. Think that’s pretty bad, enough.

he’s an idiot because only an idiot would stand you up

You haven’t seen me, remember

statement still stands

Stop being so charming.

you still eating

No.

then I can flirt

Most of the time, he ignores the mail.

Lets it pile up on the entryway dresser until his pop makes another reference to it. Unlike his pop, he is never in a rush to open them, knowing no good comes from the contents inside.

The same people contact him. The bureau being one. Sipping his coffee as he glares at the usual federal sign on the envelope, wondering how many more times they’ll try asking him to come in for a chat.

This afternoon, though, the envelope isn’t brilliant white, but rather off-cream.

Peeling a bit, thumb digging in as he drags it across, the ripping sound filling the small space. It’s only as he opens it does he realise who it’s from.

His eyes stare at the letter, taking in the number—the one in triple digits with his phone provider logo in the top corner. The number which is making him feel sick, the more he stares at it over and over again.

“Fuck.”

Folding it, he swallows.

Shit.

Motherfucker.

He stuffs it away, tucks it under magazines and other leaflets, as though by keeping it out of sight, it’ll go away.

But it's there.

The edge of it sticking out. He even blinks, and the number is there, tattooed on the back of his eyes. Taunting him—the price of speaking to you.

It's not that Javi can't afford it. He’s had a chunk of money sitting, gaining dust, in his account since he came home. Only able to force portions on his pop as and when he felt he could get away with it.

But this was a lot. More than he’d bargained on, more than he even knew he could spend simply by replying to someone.

There's a chance your day won't be done just yet—his day beginning far earlier than yours even began—but he pulls his phone out, fingers pressing into the keys.

so apparently talking to you is costly Oh, you've had your bill. I feel I should ask whether I'm worth it?

It’s instant—the way you make the nauseous feeling vanish. How you force it to slide back to where it came from, and in its place, warmth spreads. All accompanied by a smile on his lips.

He doesn’t want to show his hand too much. Better at concealing, playing the long game when standing face to face.

This requires a skill he hasn't yet gained. Simply focusing on not sounding ridiculous, or over the top. Unnecessary. Like some of the desperate men, he's happened to arrest over the years.

Even if his chest flutters and his mind screams, of course. Wants to ask, isn't it obvious? But he chooses something easier, uncomplicated.

yes just didn’t expect it I had my phone bill the other day. I get it. did your heart fall out your ass No. But I will be eating ramen for the next month. We can stop texting so much though, if it’s costing too much. would rather my bill be double than stop talking to you You’re such a flirt.

He drains the rest of his mug, leaning back in the chair—hearing the sound of approaching boots from his Pop’s side of the house. Fingers typing, all hurried and determined

Don’t forget I’m out for drinks and a movie. I remember don’t worry

He remembers as soon as you remind him.

Realising it's the reason you're able to reply right now. You’d been telling him almost every night for the past week. All worried, as though hating the idea of breaking the nightly tradition the two of you have concocted.

In a way, Javi should have assumed the bill would be high with the number of texts the two of you have been sending. How frequent it’s been—how nice it’s been.

Nice things do usually come with a tag.

you decided on sweet or salty Verdict is still out. You sure about waiting to do the crossword? if we don’t do it tonight, we’ll do two the next day You sure? more than sure have a great time

“Y’sure you don’t fancy coming with me, Jav?”

He thinks of it, tapping his phone against his palm as he thinks of your text the other night. The one about him trying to say yes—something curling in his chest as he realises he’ll be alone, alone if he doesn’t.

A sentiment he didn’t mind on paper, but now confronted with, rather despised.

“Alright, yeah. Can—can I get changed?”

Mid-grabbing his own jacket, his Pop turns, surprise knitted into his wiry brows. “Y-yeah, sure, I’ll….”

“I’ll meet you at the truck?”

And he does. All without complaint. Plaid shirt on, a smile being forced as soon as the truck pulls off the drive. He doesn't even complain about the radio choice or the fact his Pop always takes the main roads when he could cut down the dusty roads.

When he arrives, he doesn’t mind how many hands he shakes, one after the next. He tries not to grit his teeth as each person says the usual things, they’re proud, he’s grown, when is he settling down? Each time he laughs it off. Spanish rolling from his tongue as he smiles and winks.

It’s performative.

The old version of him coming out from a hidden place.

Always there, ready, as his hand shakes another person's hand—one he’s already forgotten the name of. Someone he’s sure he’s met before, too.

It always happens. The small-town boy who took down drug cartels has become somewhat of a celebrity tale. A thing to gawk at when he visits the store. Chucho's boy who ran away to Colombia and now hides away on the ranch.

For the amount of time it's been, he'd foolishly expected it to die down—but it hasn't. Not enough, anyway.

After enough time, he excuses himself, sneaking down the corridor near the bathroom. Leaning against the wall, fingers trying to rub out a knot that hasn’t yet appeared in his skull. The one pulsing, threatening to build behind his eye.

He’s unsure what he wants to do, what he needs. Retrieving his phone, just clicking around, before finding himself on your texts—feeling better for it.

Reading them back, smirking at some, smiling wide at others. A shape forming in his head, little details he’d amassed to make up you. A person he was pretty sure meant more to him than evening company, but it seemed tricky to delve too far into it.

That is until his phone vibrated.

Just wanted to tell you I miss you. Even if that’s weird.

His fingers hover over the keys, a retort quick—there in his touch.

Slowly he presses it out, hearing the click even over the bar’s music as he double and triple taps each button he wants, until it forms what it is he thought:

not weird, you drunk I’m tipsy, not drunk. Still mean it. good cause i miss you too

you never said how the movie was

As someone who flies a lot, I shouldn’t have watched it.

that bad

Will probably have to hold the hand of my seat mate the next time work makes me fly.

I’m sure they won’t mind

Depends on the length of my nails I guess.

some people don’t mind nails clawing in certain situations

You trying to tell me you like nails down your back, Javi?

if the situation is right, yes

What about in your hair?

now who’s being a tease

I’m learning so much tonight.

and your putting images in my head

I’d love to know what I look like in it, since you haven’t seen me.

beautiful, you look beautiful

My face is burning.

your day been ok

Yeah, was fine. Work has been rough.

you want to talk about it

Not really, it’s stupid anyway. Plus, would rather do the crosswords and hang with you.

you do have two to make up to me

Best get giving me the clues then, Javi.

four letters, begins with f

Is this a Javi crossword or a real crossword

baby, cmon

Fuck?

fork

someone’s in a dirty mood

You’re such a dick. Give me a real clue.

There's not a point in time where he can track how his thoughts went from nothing to you. But, he thinks about you all the time.

Has been doing so constantly for the last two days, at least—the occasional vibrations from his phone making his lips twitch and his mind wander. Javi’s brain exploding with wonder at what your reply could say.

Sometimes, he tries not to check immediately. Test—see—how long he can go before he does. It’s not been going well.

An excitement dashing through his veins that fills his chest, warms his neck and makes a ridiculous grin appear (one he’s caught accidentally in the mirror).

The back and forth has been quicker—for as costly as it was—outside of routines and work. His fingers have even improved in the speed of tapping the same key to get one single letter.

Each text makes him feel like he learns a new nugget about you, gathering a new piece of the puzzle—an idea of you forming in front of his eyes. One he likes—craves more of—wishing for other tidbits similar to how you like coffee after breakfast, not before.

That you don’t care for birthday cake, but love cookies.

morning hermosa hope you managed to grab the coffee

He doesn’t expect to hear from you.

Remembering that your time management in the morning isn’t to be admired. You are someone who is either awake too early or too late—never in the middle.

But, when he finishes. Sweat clinging to every muscle, he’s surprised to find nothing.

Even a little disappointed.

finished up for the day, unsure whether to lounge around on the porch or push the boat out and lounge in the barn

You’ve become such a part of his day, his shoulders sink when he steps out of the shower to see nothing.

His heart slips down inside his chest, resting unsteadily on his ribs as he checks and checks. His fingers fluff his hair as he runs his fingers through it before finding a strand, twisting, and twisting.

I’m probably worrying about nothing but just let me know you’re ok

A part of him had worried this would happen.

That he would allow the attachment to grow—ropes and threads wrapping around him—and it would be taken from under his feet.

He has a history of becoming hooked—usually combining itself with his need to help, to make someone’s day better, easier.

And on paper, he knew it was odd. To care for someone he hadn’t ever even met. But he cares all the same.

Copious amounts, in fact.

Far past an, ‘I miss you’—something else entirely, not that he’d admit as much.

hermosa I’m really getting worried now

He doesn’t want to call.

Doesn’t want to invade your privacy, your space. But it’s knotting inside of him. The things he’s seen, rushing to the surface, pecking away, making him overthink.

His mind conjures ideas that you’re hurt, wounded. That you’re crying, alone. Each flash of his past has the curated blob-of-a-face he’s created for you, written over it.

His fingers twitch, hand moving to his pocket before remembering there are no cigarettes to be found there. He quit. Ages ago. Felt better for it—for the most part—until now.

Now when all he wants is to focus on the taste, the way smoke swirls with the warm Texas air—

Hey, I'm so sorry, I had a bad day. Just didn’t check my phone. shit hermosa, you scared me. almost called you. Really? yeah Would you? what call you Yeah?

[Dialing number…]

you declined I did

His heart sinks, crashes, and plummets.

Then a new vibration, one that travels down his fingers to his wrist, suddenly staring at an instruction: Give me your landline number, be cheaper. For both of us.

Glancing into the living room, he taps the number in for you. Hating each precious second he wastes by having to delete a letter that should be a number.

Pushing the chair back, hearing it screech as he hovers. Nervousness thumps through him, making him shake, vibrate.

Staring, willing the phone to ring.

Even as he tries to collect himself, his mind has already begun running away from him. Hearing his pulse thump in his ear, thump, thump—

And then it’s ringing—you’re ringing.

His voice shouts out he’ll get it as he picks up the phone from the hook.

“Javi… that you?”

Grinning, he laughs, light and airy. “Hi. Yeah, it’s me.”

Silence blankets his ears and the air, thumb circling a knot in his forehead.

Smiling, he changes the phone to his other ear. “Knew you’d sound pretty. You have a nice voice.”

“Shut up, Javi. I’ve said three words.”

“And a few more.”

He hears you suck in a breath as heat rushes to his ears, feeling the edges of his lips curl into a smile.

“You wanna talk about it or talk about something else?”

He hears you take a breath another breath. Different this time, all accompanied by a shuffling sound from your end.

“Something else. If that… that’s okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Alright, lemme… lemme think for a second—“

You clear your throat, “You have a nice voice, too, by the way.”

Pausing, he bites the inside of his cheek. “Like you imagined?”

“Better, honestly.”

“I could have called you. I have this additional thing on our plan—so my Pop could call. When I was away.”

“From when you were in Colombia?”

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he nodded. “Yeah…”

“Well, if this conversation goes well, you may get a new number to add to your phone book.”

“That so? Who’s flirting now.”

You laugh, sweet—fluttering its gorgeous wings down the phone to his ear as he readjusts the phone.

Dropping his voice, he turns more to the walls. “So, what you wearing, baby?”

“Oh my god, Javi.”

He doesn’t even mute his laughter, just lets it flow from him—rushing through the house. Not even caring if his Pop can hear him in the next room.

"I'm wearing nothing."

"Hermosa, you tease."

You laugh, and it's different. It's rich, and makes the room glow around him, without you even being here.

"I'm not really, I'm in a baggy t-shirt."

"Not as sexy, but I'm sure I can work with it."

You snort, "Javi, stop."

He wonders if your cheeks are warm. He hopes they are.

Leaning against the wall, he smirks, if only to himself. "I like how you say my name, Hermosa."

an: thank you so much for all being wonderful, i heart you

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yxtubers · 1 year ago

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𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧

chris sturniolo x reader (fluff)

summary: as you and chris hang out more and more, feelings begin to develop - and chris questions his fear of commitment

warnings/notes: kissing? but that’s about it!

requested?: yes! number 3 “hangouts that start to feel more like dates” from my actions prompt list

a/n: this is sort of long, sorry. do you guys prefer the longer format or should i try to shorten my work down?

> > >

You and Chris had begun to hang out more and more recently. Separate from group hangouts, and separate from Nick and Matt.

Before, you would usually hang out with at least one other person - but slowly, and gradually, you guys began to have one-on-ones instead.

It was a seamless transition. One that you two hardly even noticed until Matt mentioned it one day.

“What’s up with you and Chris?” he had asked.

You ignored his question but it echoed through your brain days and days after. What was up with you and Chris?

Now you were getting ready to go to dinner. With Chris.

He had called you half an hour before, stating that he was bringing you out for food. When you asked whether his brothers were coming, he almost seemed shocked.

“No. Why would I be bringing Nick and Matt? It’s just us.”

And he left it at that.

You put on a casual outfit, as you weren’t expecting it to be anything big. I mean, you guys were just two friends going out to eat - nothing major, right?

Yet even though you knew it wasn’t a date, you were growing increasingly nervous.

The two of you had never crossed the boundary between friends and dating - but the countless movie nights you had together at your house, your sleepovers, and walks around the neighborhood started to feel more and more couple-y as time went by.

You just put your finished touches to your outfit when you heard your front door unlock. Chris had been given a spare key to your house upon the millionth time that he stayed over. It was just easier that way since you two spent so much time together.

“I’m in here!” you shouted as you picked up your keys and bag.

Chris knocked on your door before entering, hands in his pockets as he waited for you.

You gave him a smile, admiring his outfit. He looked good, and as the thought crossed your head you were surprised. It’s not that you’ve never appreciated his looks before, but the butterflies you felt when he looked at you confused you.

‘Just friends,’ you thought to yourself for what felt like the hundredth time this month.

“Gimme a sec, I can’t find my wallet,” you muttered as you dug through your bag.

Chris raised an eyebrow at you, tilting his head.

“No need. I’m paying,” he said.

Your head shot up to look at him. Sure he had paid for you before, but never for dinner. Sometimes he let you pay when you insisted, and he never let down an offer if you urged to bring your money.

Taking your shocked silence as an answer, he walked up to you. Zipping your bag up and taking it in his hand, he grabbed your other hand and pulled you towards your front door.

“What’s this all about, anyway?” you asked, tying your shoelaces.

“I can’t take my friend out on a date?” he joked, but there was a hint of sincerity in his eyes.

You looked away, trying not to blush like an idiot.

He always found a way to mess with you, so you didn’t think much of his response.

Getting your car keys ready, you walked out of the house, Chris locking the door behind you. Looking up you could see the minivan parked outside. This was getting weird - Chris never drove you anywhere.

“What’s with the car?” you asked suspiciously.

Taking your keys from your hand and throwing it into your bag that he was still holding, he responded.

“What kind of date would I be if I made you drive.”

He said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Taking your hand again, he walked you to the car. This time, your heart fluttered. The hold on your hand was gentle - almost as if he was testing the waters.

A casual hand hold was new to you. Chris had only ever done it to drag you out of bed, or the house. Never just to walk together.

He opened the door for you, pulled out your chair at the diner, and as promised, paid for the bill. You were beyond bewildered. You now were questioning whether or not him calling this a date was a joke.

The drive home was silent, only the faint buzz of the radio could be heard in the background.

From the side of your eye, you could see Chris’ head turn towards you. You look to him and smile. He returned a bashful smile before focusing his attention back to the road.

Parking in your front yard, he walked to your side of the door to open it once more. He offered you his hand, helping you climb out of the car.

You needed to have a talk with him. Like - immediately.

Entering the house, you both took your shoes off, ready to end the night with a movie. It was like a ritual - you came home and got comfy on the couch to watch some silly thing that Chris had saved for you both on his Netflix account.

Before you let Chris walk deeper into your home, you grabbed his wrist, pulling him towards you.

“Hey,” you said, gaining his attention, “About today…”

“What about it?” his brows furrowed, wondering what you meant.

“I just- I wanna be on the same page.” you said nervously.

“About?”

“Us.”

You anticipated a response. Honestly you just wanted him to say something. Anything.

He took a cautious step towards you, looking you square in the eyes. He had this sudden air of confidence about him - like he was 100% sure of what he was about to say.

“It’s not like it was really our first date - it’s just the only one that we acknowledged was a date,” he said nonchalantly. Again, acting as if it was such a plain fact.

You agreed of course. There was no beating around the bush. You guys had been practically going on dates for weeks.

“I couldn’t tell if you were being serious.”

You felt slightly stupid and small. Insecure was the last thing you wanted to come across as, but you couldn’t help it.

“Of course I was - I am,” he said, taking your hands in his. “I thought we might as well go on a proper one, y’know?”

You smiled at him. He was such an idiot sometimes, but you loved it. If he had just told you beforehand you could’ve avoided all this confusion.

“And I’m serious about this. About you,” he said.

You knew Chris wasn’t good with commitment, so him being so open melted your heart.

“Okay. We can take it slow then,” you said.

“I think we’ve been taking it slow enough,” he laughed.

You laughed along with him. He was right. All the times you two tiptoed around the conversation of what you two really were. Ignoring his brother’s questions about your relationship. It was finally time to come to terms with what was happening between you.

“Well if you say so. I do think it’s customary for a man to kiss their date once they’re at the door,” you said.

With a smirk on his face, and a blush creeping up his neck, he leaned down to meet your lips.

He gently pushed you into the wall, pressing his bodyweight against you. The kiss started slow but quickly spiraled into a passionate, long-awaited release of emotions.

All the pent up tension from the past few weeks was exchanged into the kiss. The desperation evident in the way that his hands roamed across your frame, snaking around your back to arch you into him.

He let out a soft sigh, tilting his head to deepen the kiss.

His hair tickled your face, and as you pulled back you tucked it behind his ear.

You let out a breathy laugh, feeling relieved.

As you two stood there with Chris’ grip tight on your waist, and your hands wrapped around his neck, you struggled to catch your breath.

“So much for taking it slow,” he joked, nudging his nose with yours.

You rolled your eyes playfully. As if he wasn’t about to kiss you anyway. Watching as he leaned his head down, you heard his voice pierce through the silence.

“Let’s go watch that movie, hm?” he whispered against your ear.

He once again took your hand, interlocking your fingers and pulling you towards the living room.

The rest of the evening was spent snuggled together on the couch. Never in your wildest dreams did you expect this to come out of your one-on-one hangouts - but you were thrilled with the outcome.

It’s safe to say that your “first date” went well.

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #chris sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matthew sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets x reader

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towriteloveontheirarms · 11 months ago

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Maths genius (Michael Gavey x Reader)

synopsis: You ask your class mate for a tutor session under the guise of desperately needing it. To his surprise he gets something much better than having to try to teach a girl maths.

warnings: flirting, smut, a bit of dry humping, p in v sex, afab reader

word count: 2.7k

taglist: @fan-goddess @hopelesswritergall

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom/series or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

A/N: Writers block still has me tight in it´s clutches, but I´ve watched Saltburn for the first time today and I didn´t want to write on this for another week so here you have my first Michael Gavey fic.

As you walk into the otherwise quiet library the clicking of your heels fills the room. Prompting a few students to turn their heads and look. You don't think much about them as you take a book from the large shelves and spot a person from your lectures. Michael Gavey. So you decide to sit down close to him. You had always thought him to be rather cute. Even if nerdy and slightly off putting, still.

You focus back on the book in front of you. However, in a matter of minutes however your confident posture crumbles to a confused expression.

It takes another while for you to look up from the book in frustration. So you miss the way he avoids eye contact at all costs. Yet you search it out nevertheless.

"Hey, you are Michael Gavey, right?" You speak quietly as to not disturb the other students.

“Uh yeah” His tone is nothing short of standoff-ish and at the same time surprised. It is clear that he wasn’t expecting to be spoken to.

It takes you back slightly, but you continue nonetheless. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to bother you, but we are in the same class."

“Oh, we are. I don’t remember your name though.”

You offer him your name with a small smile. You understand that he hadn't had the easiest time connecting with your classmates, so you made a point to be different from them.

"Say, you are like a certified maths genius. Do you do tutoring?" You switch seats to sit right across the table from him.

A not entirely recognizable spark lights up behind the glasses as you do so.

“Uh… I don’t tutor or anything. Are you having trouble?” His tone softens ever so slightly.

"Yes. I have been falling behind ever since we started the new topic. I just don't get it. At all." You play with a strand of your hair and lean forward a bit in the hopes to make him say yes.

As soon as he identifies your flirting you can see he draws a blank. It's honestly kinda cute.

“Well, m-maybe you want to come over to my place later..." When he realizes that that could sound weird taken out of context, he quickly adds "So I can teach you.”

"That would be just great, but I thought maybe we could meet up at my dorm?”

You take one of your fingers to trace small patterns into the back of his hand. You know you are laying it on thick, it´s visible in the uncertain spark behind the nerdy glasses, lighting up his piercing blue eyes.

“Yeah, of course! Let’s do your room. What building are you in?” The way Michael nods so fast you are scared that his glasses fall off, makes you hide a giggle behind your hand.

"Gimme your hand." You grab a pen and pull his hand towards you.

When you write your room number onto the inside of his wrist, Michael´s eyes lock with yours like a deer in headlights.

“Got it. I’ll be over at 7:00. Will that work?”

"That works perfectly actually. I'll see you then." You give him a wink and strut away with what Michael believes to be a bit of a spring in your step.

“Um... yeah... see you then.”

His eyes follow your retreating form until you are out of sight, before he looks down at your note again, while you smile to yourself. There is only one more lecture separating you from your little `date´.

One lecture and one clothing change later, you are just about to freshen up your lipgloss when a faint knock can be heard from the door. Right on the time that you agreed upon. Michael looks down to his shuffling feet on the ground when you open the door to him, which gives you the advantage of seeing his full reaction to seeing your clothes. Bit by bit his blue eyes wander up over the thigh high stockings, pausing at the pleated skirt and over the oversized sweater until they come to a halt on your face. Instantly any sound of your name dies on his tongue.

“I um… I’m here for the… the math lesson.” He mumbles. It's almost comical how his face reddens as he pushes the glasses up his nose.

The reaction elicits a giggle from you. It is obvious that there will be a lot done tonight, but studying wouldn't take up the biggest part of it.

"Come on in." You take a step back to make way for his tall figure to enter your room.

He nods once as he does so. His gaze getting drawn back to you as he tries to maintain eye contact.

“You look… uh…”

"I look...?" It's kind of fun to see him struggle like this.

“H-hot. You look really hot and it’s distracting.” He quickly looks down so as to avoid your gaze again to hide the worsening of the blush. "So, where do we start?”

"At the beginning, maybe?" You smirk.

“Yeah… good point.” He sits down at the desk while you lean over him.

As he opens your book and begins to explain to you the foundations of the topic you let your breasts graze Michael's back and arm deliberately every now and again to put him off. It's not a hard task, with every brush of your sweater against his shirt, he stumbles over his words. It is palpable that no matter how hard he is trying to concentrate on the work in front of him, your body pulls his eyes away from the book again and again. At one point you even think you can see his length twitch underneath the cargo shorts. Letting this go on for as long as you can, you eventually put on a seemingly concerned and innocent face and lay a hand on his forehead as if to feel his temperature.

"My... You are so warm. Are you feeling well?"

Behind his eyes the wheels are turning in a desperate attempt to think of a clever response, but at this point it is just impossible. As soon as you placed your hand on Michael's forehead, all that comes out is “I-I… uh… I… “

"Come, sit on the bed. I think we should take a break from studying." You gently take his hands in yours to lead him over to the edge of your bed.

A lead without even thinking about it. The urge to just give himself up to you is building rapidly by the second.

“S-sorry. Uh… I mean I… “

"Shhh." You lay your finger under his chin to keep his gaze locked with yours. "Is this your first time?"

"Yes." Michael breathes out.

"Stop me if I go too far..." You murmur against his lips, closing your eyes just before you lean down more for your lips to meet in a feather light brush.

A shiver went through his previously relaxed body and his hot breath hit your lips harder as he kissed back. Your hand that currently holds him by the chin wanders upwards to cup one of Michael's cheeks. His hands begin to slide down the outside of your thigh, suddenly pulling you onto his lap. As he does so, the fabric of the skirt bunches at your waist. The action provokes your breath to falter and to press your body as close to his as possible. Instinctively your lips open further, to allow for a more intense kiss. One of Michael´s hands wanders behind your back to support you on his lap and then, finally, he moves his lips to your neck, giving it a soft bite.

"Oh, Michael." You whimper as his teeth graze your skin. Grinding your core against his lap as a reaction.

His hands wander further up under the fabric of your sweater, cold skin caressing warm skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"Don't stop kissing me, please." Your words are barely a shuddering whisper.

His mouth leaves your neck and moves down your body to kiss your chest through the thick sweater. Sucking on your nipples until there are two wet spots staining it. The bundled nerves standing hard at attention, but your sweater is in the way of what you are doing, so his hands wander from just under your ribs further up. With a tingle running down your spine you lift your arms up in aiding him to throw the piece of fabric to the side. Not caring where it lands. You are all too glad to lose it. He too doesn't waste a single second and litters your breasts with kisses and nibbles. This time though, you feel a tug at the hem of your skirt.

The sensation makes your desire for him grow incredibly high. The zipper on the side gets opened fast and in a swift motion you lift your body off his lap just long enough to kick it aside. There is no time or need for words.

"Your body is incredible." The words hit your skin between heavy breaths as his hands run over your stomach, rubbing tight circles into the soft skin before continuing to wander down to massage your thighs. Michael's lips wander further down your body as well to follow suit. His warm tongue traces down your middle from the valley between your breasts down to just about your belly button. Your reaction to his teasing came instantly in the form of a quiet moan. Which got followed by a knock at your door. Assuming it was just your friend that forgot something the other day, you don't make an effort to stop what you are currently doing. She needed to learn eventually after all, a notion which gets you an uncertain look from Michael beneath you.

But you only place a finger on your lips in a sign to be quiet.

"Shhh" You whisper to him and then thread your hands into his short hair to guide his face right in front of your exposed chest. Something he willingly allows, attaching his lips to nibble at your bosom. Littering it with bite marks and hickeys, tracing every little curve of it. The ministrations get you to completely forget about the knock on the door just a second ago and also the one rule you set after it. Yet at his needy nibbles and licks you can't help being unable to hold back the squeal of enjoyment that sounds through the room.

In a hurry Michael moves his mouth away from your chest and covers your mouth with one of his hands.

“Shhhhh... Your friend will hear us.” His palm lays snug against your face, so as not to let any sounds through. Something that you allow until you get a better idea. Unbothered if the two of you can be heard any longer, you warp your lips around Michael´s long, slender fingers to swirl your tongue around them teasingly.

A shock of warmth goes through his body, making itself noticeable by the way his face burned. When you feel like he had been teased enough, you let his hand free with a wet `pop´

Immediately they get replaced by his lips once more as they catch yours in a searing kiss, at which you let out a most sinful sounding moan.

“Fuck…” Both of you curse under your breaths simultaneously.

By now he has done a great job at making you desperate for more and so your trembling fingers move down to work at the buttons of his shirt. It takes a while, but eventually and with a bit of teamwork, you are able to throw it to the ground as well. Just then Michael leans all the way back until his back lays flat against the mattress. The new position makes it easier for you to grind against him, a chance you use immediately by running your barely covered cunt over the tent in the blond's pants.

"I need more..." A tiny whimper passes Michael's lips. "Need to be inside of you."

At his words your hands stop caressing his body and come down to fumble open the button of his pants. Though you don't entirely grant him his wish yet. The moment is too good to not stretch out. His pants and underwear get pulled down barely as far as they need to, before you grind on his dick again. As you do so, his member twitches up to tease your covered clit, which makes your head fall back and mouth open to make way for steadily heavier growing breaths.

When you lean forward to lock your swollen lips with his again however you move your hips a bit too far. So as you move them backwards again you only have a short moment to process the fact that his cock had slipped past the lace panties and entered your fluttering, wet heat.

“You´re so tight.” Michael can´t fight off or quieten the loud moan any longer, but the complete lack of stimulation after what you had done previously began to get to you.

“Shit. Michael I really need you to move or else I´m going crazy.” Though it wasn´t an ask from your side it also wasn´t a command, yet the blond followed it instantly. His hands gripped your hips tightly and set a slow rhythm by guiding your movements to meet his thrusts.

Both of your moans, groans, whines and whimpers fill the room along with the wet slapping of skin against skin.

”Feels so good, Michael. Feel so good inside of me.” You lean back and prop yourself up on his thighs, allowing you to fasten the movements of your hips.

“I´m not going to last much longer. You´re so wet and perfect.” He mumbles as the flush on his cheeks darkened and spreading over his face until it reached the tips of his ears.

His cock twitches inside of you as if to underline that statement. So you lead one of his hands away from your hips to your throbbing clit. Picking up on your actions Michael's thumb rubs small, tight circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves. Reveling in the way your walls flutter even further around his length, bringing him closer to the edge as your noises become even more urgent and high pitched.

“Come for me.” You say when you feel yourself get close as well. It is a whisper at first, but with a little concentration from that hazy brain of yours, you are able to repeat it a little louder. “Come for me, now.”

The blond´s eyes roll back into his head, one last whimper leaves his lips and then the feeling of warm ropes of cum filling your core floods your body. His hips stutter in their movements, but yours are from done. Continuously and relentlessly they drive you up and down on his cock. Soon after Michael you get overwhelmed by the waves of pleasure, forcing you to sit back in his lap as your legs and hips shake from the climax. Swaying back and forth on top of him for a while, before you are able to catch your breath and think straight again.

“Shit…” You hear Michael whisper beneath you.

Looking down at him, you can´t conceal a giggle at how entirely fucked out he looks. His hair is mussed and his glasses sit slightly crooked on that sharp nose. It´s almost comical.

The two of you take some more time to come back to reality and get dressed again.

“I better be going now.” Michael croaks, lingering close to you for a second. Uncertain if he should say what he was thinking. “But um… If you would like to have another study session some time… I wouldn´t be opposed to that.”

“I wouldn´t be opposed to it at all either.” Followed your flirty response.

It surprises him visibly, though he manages to sort himself out rather quickly.

“Do you mean that?” He inquires.

“I surely do. Give me your number and I´ll call you.” It is more of a suggestion, but he gives you his number so fast you almost have trouble catching it the first time. Snapping your phone shut after saving it, you turn to look back at Michael.

“I can´t wait to see you again.” You wink and give a small, alluring wave.

#michael gavey #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey x you #ewan mitchell #ewan nation #michael gavey fic #michael gavey fanfic #saltburn #saltburn fic #saltburn fanfiction

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lemoncrushh · 4 months ago

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Back For You

Summary: Harry is in town, and you go visit him at the hotel.

Warnings: Smut - 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 1802

A/N: Another short blurb from 2016. This was when I was still writing a lot of 1D related fics. It was a request where you're at uni and [sort of?] dating Harry, and you have to keep quiet around the other boys.

You'd felt your phone vibrate in class alerting you of a text, but you waited until you were out in the hall to read it. A smile slowly spread across your face when you realized it was from Harry.

At the hotel.

You hurried to a bench where you sat down to reply to him. You'd met Harry over a year ago in London at a charity fundraiser where your friend's father was the chairman. You'd hit it off immediately, and by the end of the evening you were fast friends, exchanging phone numbers. You'd been accepted to a prestigious university, and you were now in your third year, studying to be a surgeon. You'd been anticipating Harry's return, but this time not just as a friend. For the last few months, you'd become something more. Neither of you had put a label on it yet, nor had you told any of the other boys. But your heart seemed to thump a little harder in your chest each time you saw him, or heard from him, or even thought of him.

Just got out of class. What time do you want me there?

You watched the three dots come up, Harry's reply moments later.

ASAP. We're finished with promo. Rest of the day is free.

You bit your lip, typing a quick text to let him know you were on your way.

"Hi there, love, gimme a hug!" exclaimed Louis when he opened the door.

You embraced him, stepping into the suite. You could hear the voices of the other boys, the television mixed in. You'd just rounded the corner when you nearly bumped into Harry.

"Hey, you're here!" he beamed, grabbing your shoulders.

"I'm here," you giggled.

Harry pulled you to him, wrapping his arms around you in a bear hug. You breathed in his scent, your head buried in his neck.

"I missed you," you heard him murmur in your hair.

Stepping back, you gazed up at him. "I missed you, too."

"C'mon," he said, taking your hand. "You want something to drink?"

You followed Harry to the kitchen area, opting for a soda which he opened for you. Then with his hand on the small of your back, you walked with him to where the other boys sat watching TV. Giving Niall, Liam and Zayn quick hugs, you observed the display of food.

"Jeez, guys, hungry?" you teased.

"It's for everybody," said Niall, stuffing a triangle-shaped sandwich in his mouth. "Help yourself."

"Thanks," you smirked, reaching for a handful of candy from the bowl on the table. Then you squeezed into an oversized chair next to Harry.

You sat chatting with the boys for a while until the movie that had been going was over and they started a new one. You felt Harry's arm wound around your waist, scooting you closer to him. You smiled up at him before he planted a kiss on your temple. Looking around at the other boys, they seemed to be oblivious to anything going on between you, so you leaned your head on his shoulder.

"Are you cold?" you heard him ask a few minutes later as he dragged his fingers down your upper arm.

You shrugged. "A little."

Sitting up, Harry reached for a blanket that was folded on the floor nearby, spreading it out and covering you both with it.

"Thanks," you whispered.

Returning your head to his shoulder, you could feel his breath tickle your hair.

"Y/N," you suddenly heard him murmur.

"Yes?"

"How's school?" he cleared his throat. It made you wonder if he was going to say something else. You lifted your head to look at him.

"Oh, it's fine. Going great, actually."

The ends of his mouth curved into a grin and his eyes danced, the reflection of the television bouncing off of them.

"Good," he mouthed as he leaned his forehead against yours. "I know I said it already, but I really missed you."

"Me too," you admitted.

"Yeah?" Harry lifted his hand to slide under your ear. "Do you think about me a lot?"

A low chuckle sounded from your throat. "You have no idea."

"Hmm. If it's close to as much as I think about you, I might have an idea."

"We might have a problem then," you licked your lips.

Harry stared at your mouth a moment and you thought he was going to kiss you. Instead he dropped his hand, sitting back in the chair. You let out a sigh, but not from relief. You did, however, feel his hand grab yours under the blanket, threading your fingers together.

You watched half of the movie, though you were hardly paying attention. Your heart was beating heavily in your chest, and you thought for sure Harry could hear it. Suddenly, he released your hand, pulling the blanket up. You bit your lip as you adjusted yourself in the chair. Once you were situated comfortably, Harry put his hand on your thigh. You instantly felt a charge of electricity throughout your body. Feeling bold, you covered his hand with yours, sliding them further up your leg, underneath your skirt. You side-eyed Harry, noticing the smirk on his face as he massaged you gently, turning you on so badly you could barely breathe.

Leaning into you, he whispered in your ear. "We probably shouldn't be doing this here, love."

"Yeah," you sighed. "You're probably right."

You moved your joined hands so that they lie between you, and you gripped the edge of the blanket with your other hand.

"I can't wait to touch you, though," Harry added a few moments later. "You're so sexy."

You looked at him, the color rising to your cheeks. You weren't sure when you would be getting a moment alone, but you were looking forward to it.

A little while later, you excused yourself to go to the restroom, rising from the chair. Harry held onto your hand a little longer, making you turn to look at him. You mimicked his grin, letting your fingers slip away from his slowly.

After washing your hands, you opened the door, jumping when you saw Harry standing there.

"Oh, you scared me!" you put your hand over your heart.

"Sorry, didn't mean to," he said in a low voice. Stepping closer, he put his hands on your hips, lowering his head toward yours.

"What are you doing?" you asked.

"Trying to kiss you," he replied before pressing his lips to yours.

You fell into the kiss, sliding your hands up his chest. His lips were soft, yet demanding. He had complete control over the kiss, swiping his tongue across your bottom lip before slipping it inside your mouth. A small sound escaped your throat as your tongue met his, and you wrapped your arms around his neck.

You felt Harry's body push you backwards until you were inside the bathroom again. He kicked the door closed behind him, reaching back to lock it, breaking from the kiss momentarily.

You glared at him, backing up a bit, his plump lips already swollen and parted slightly.

"Harry..." you said, though you couldn't seem to form the rest of the sentence.

"Just wanted some privacy," he explained.

You nodded silently, a small smile on your face. You watched as Harry's dimple dipped in his cheek, his arms reaching for you.

"C'mere beautiful," he growled, pulling you to him once again.

His lips crashed into yours, his hand on the back of your neck, the other on your hip. He kissed you with fervor, igniting a fire within you. You grabbed at his shirt with your fists, desperate to feel him closer.

"Y/N," he breathed against your mouth. "God, baby, what are you doing to me?"

"I don't know," you whispered. "What am I doing?"

Taking your hand, Harry aimed it at his pants, making you aware of his erection. Biting your lip, you reached for the button on his jeans, popping them open. Then you slid your hand inside, wrapping it around his hard cock.

"Fuuuu..." he sounded, his eyes rolling back as you began to stroke him.

"Is that what I do?" you inquired.

"Yes," Harry breathed, his eyelids heavy.

With a grin, you let go of him momentarily to grip the hem of his shirt. Understanding what you were wanting, he reached behind and pulled it off, dropping it on the floor. Then he grabbed you by the waist, lifting you up to the vanity.

"Please let me fuck you," he groaned, sliding his hands up your thighs.

Your eyes widened at his blatant request and you let out a gasp.

"Yeah?" he quirked a brow, lowering his lips to your jaw and peppering your skin with kisses. "We just have to try to be quiet."

His breath tickled your ear and you felt yourself get incredibly wet.

"Yes," you whispered back.

Looking you in the eye again, Harry reached further up your legs to grab the sides of your panties. You lifted your hips so he could slip them down and off. Pulling his wallet out of his back pocket, he produced a condom, unwrapping it and sliding it down his cock. Then pushing your skirt around your waist, you opened yourself to him. Aiming at your entrance, Harry drove into you deeply, his hands on your back.

"Holy shit," he moaned as he pulled back slowly. "Mmm, baby, you feel so good."

Trying to catch your breath, you wrapped your legs around him. "I thought," you swallowed, "I thought we had to be quiet."

"Fuck!" he half-chuckled. "That's gonna be difficult."

"Shh," you sounded, kissing his lips.

Harry began to thrust harder and faster, making you bite your lip to keep from crying out. Suddenly, he grabbed your thigh, lifting it up so your foot met the counter. You threw your head back, reaching the edge. Your body trembled from the orgasm as you tried not to moan too loudly. Harry came soon after, pushing so deep inside of you you saw stars.

Gripping the edge of the vanity, you watched as Harry's breaths evened out, his beautiful face flushed. Then he cupped your face, kissing you tenderly.

When he pulled out and disposed of the condom, you slid off the counter and put your underwear back on. Once you were both righted, he kissed you once more before opening the door.

You returned to the chair beside the television while Harry grabbed you both bottles of water. Then he sat next to you again, covering you with the blanket once more.

Laying your head against his chest, you could feel eyes on you, but didn't dare acknowledge them. You felt Harry's chest shake as he chuckled low, gripping your leg and placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

Not one of my best, but they can't all be winners lol. Hope you kinda liked it anyway.

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