#and I know I’ll get my chance one day and I should be patient
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Sex Tutor
Summary: Harry's got a reputation on campus and you're curious to know if he can help you.
A/N: Requested! Thank y'all for being patient with me! Hope you enjoy! This will be 2 parts!!
Word Count: 10k
Warning: smut (oral sex), fluff, praise kink
. . .
“Yeah… that was good. I liked it.”
That wasn’t the reaction you were hoping to get. You thought Gunther would be a lot more enthusiastic after coming in your mouth and you swallowing him down. You gave it your best work. You even choked a couple of times and you did hear him moan once or twice. But that didn’t feel like enough
You wanted to ask him exactly what went wrong. Tips on what he liked and didn’t. What you could do better next time… But instead, he just smiled and kissed your cheek, avoiding your mouth because obviously kissing the lips that had just sucked his cock would be gross.
So you left his dorm feeling a little disappointed in yourself. Annoyed really. You wished you were more bold and could just ask him what he wanted, what he liked most. You complained to your roommate even. She loved giving advice so you were always venting to her.
“Well, you know there’s like this guy on campus who will walk you through that kind of thing… a sex tutor if you will. Let’s just say that he comes highly recommended. I know someone who hung out with him a few times, and she learned so much about her body and how good sex could feel without coming but he always made her come every time, and no man has ever done that to her before she told me.”
“A tutor for blow jobs?” You scrunched your face and giggled.
“Well, blow jobs and everything else really. I don’t know. He gets around and they say he’s very knowledgeable about the body and sex. I think he’s like getting his masters in sexual health or something?”
You shoved at her shoulder and laughed, “Oh my god I don’t think so. That sounds crazy. He’s probably some weird pervert or something.”
Your roommate turned her cellphone screen to face you, showing you an Instagram page with a photo of a very attractive young man you’d seen on campus a time or two.
“That’s him?” Your eyes widened as you looked from the photo to your roommate.
“Yup. He’s not a weirdo either. I hear he’s super respectful and smart. Plus the bonus is that he looks like this.”
You nodded. That certainly was a bonus. Harry Styles. You knew about him from the student council. He did a lot of volunteering on campus and he was a graduate student so you didn’t know him all that well, being only a sophomore yourself, but it was hard not to at least know the name and the face. He was popular. Clearly far more popular than you even realized.
And you definitely weren’t going to reach out for a “session”. That just felt silly. Though, you couldn’t say you weren’t intrigued by the idea, it just wasn’t for you. Except that when Gunther didn’t text or call you back for three full days, the whole time you wondered if your blow job was that bad. So when he did finally text you back to make plans for the following week, you felt like you were being given another chance to prove how good you could be. And maybe a lesson or two could be useful.
Reaching out to him via DMs on Instagram felt so unserious but you still did it. You cringed as you hit send and read over your message three times.
Hi! I heard you give special “tutoring” sessions and wanted to know if you have some time to meet with me to set something up? Let me know if it’s okay.
You couldn’t believe you were doing this, reaching out to a stranger for, basically, a booty call. But apparently he was used to it and had no qualms about responding to you in less than thirty minutes. As if he was running some kind of business.
Hi! Happy to meet up with you either tonight or Friday night. The initial meeting should only take like 20 minutes, somewhere public so you feel comfortable. I’ll ask you a few questions and then we’ll set up a private one-on-one session together if it makes sense for both of us. No pressure ever. Whenever you’re ready.
Private one-on-one session. You rolled your eyes as you read over Harry’s response.
Tonight is good for me if you can fit me in. Whatever time you want.
You didn’t know what to expect. You imagined he was cocky since he was apparently so good and sought after. Perhaps he would take one look at you and turn around. You were sure he had a say in who he “tutored”. Doubted he took on every single person who reached out to him.
Your roommate said he was respectful but you would place money on the fact that he was probably full of himself, being that he was a self-proclaimed Sex Guru. You were preparing yourself for someone with a larger-than-life personality.
You kept your outfit casual, not wanting to look like you were trying too hard. Jeans and a hoodie. Though you did shower and put on nice panties and made sure you smelled good. Just in case. One never knows when they are due to visit with a sex tutor.
Maud’s was one of your favorite spots on campus. They had the best iced matcha latte and that’s just what you ordered yourself when you arrived. You sat down at a small table and faced toward the door so you could keep an eye out.
You were looking down at your cell phone when you heard the chime of the door. Flitting your eyes up and away from the screen of your phone you scanned the entry and spotted him right away.
He was wearing a black pullover hoodie and jeans. His hair all tousled like he’d just finished a “tutoring” session. You raised your hand to wave at him and catch his attention and he grinned as you stood up but he gestured for you to stay seated, “I’ll be right back. Just gonna order a drink.”
You were already feeling hot and embarrassed. God, what were you doing? The man was sex on legs and that deep, raspy voice he just spoke to you with had your insides twisting and turning all mushy.
When he returned he had an iced tea and he sat across from you. The smile on his face was kind. Open. It set you at ease a bit.
He took a sip through his straw and you noted the rings on his fingers and the nail polish on his nails, “So, Y/n. It’s nice to meet you in person. What are you majoring in?”
Okay. Small talk. You could handle that.
You told him your classes and what you were majoring in and then asked him the same and when he explained he was going for his doctorate in psychology with the intent to become a sex therapist you felt your heart thump wildly. He was gorgeous and going for a doctorate. The man was so beyond out of your league that you wondered why he was even sitting at that table with you entertaining this silly request of yours.
“Wow. That’s… I’m impressed.”
He grinned and you saw a dimple carve into his cheek, “Thank you. I’ve worked really hard to get where I am. Still working, though. So let’s talk about what you want. What things are you interested in getting some guidance on?”
Here it was. The moment you’d been dreading. But also what you were most curious about.
“Well, I’m seeing this guy and,” you took a breath. It was embarrassing to say it so casually at a café on campus of all places.
Harry reached toward you and placed his warm palm over the top of yours, “Hey, I know this feels weird. Doing this. I’m not going to pressure you to say it if you find it’s too uncomfortable but just know,” he dipped his head down to meet your gaze with his brows gently raised, “Everything you tell me here will be kept confidential and private. I’m not going to make fun of you or compare you to anyone else. If you change your mind, that’s okay too. I want you to feel like you’re talking to a friend. Okay? It’s up to you how much or how little you say. We move at your pace.”
You let out the breath you were holding and smiled. He was so – nice. He made you feel so at ease.
“Thank you. It’s weird. Yeah… but I think I’m okay. I want to do this. I want to be better at like,” you looked around yourself and lowered your voice as Harry moved his hand from yours and you settled your gaze back on his, “Better at giving blow jobs. And maybe like initiating more?”
He nodded, “Okay. Have you ever given a blow job before?”
You nodded, “Recently. The guy didn’t seem very enthusiastic about it so I didn’t know if I did something wrong.”
He took a sip of his tea and his green irises bored into yours, “I can tell you one thing I know that is true for nearly every single male I know; they love getting head. Even if he wasn’t vocal he probably really enjoyed whatever you did. Does that make you feel better about your skill level?”
You puffed out a laugh and saw the smirk on his face. He was trying to get you to smile, “I don’t know. Probably. I’m sure I’m overthinking it but I just wanted… like I want to be really good. Want to know tricks to get a real response.”
“Did the guy you’re seeing orgasm?”
You nodded again.
Harry’s grin softened, “Then you did as good as you could have. Goal achieved. He orgasmed and you made that happen.”
“But I want to be better. Like… I really enjoyed what I was doing. Made me really… well…�� you looked down at your empty mug and sighed, “I felt like I enjoyed it more than he did.”
He nodded and licked his lips and if you didn’t know any better you’d say he was kind of checking you out. You weren’t wearing anything revealing but he seemed to keep dropping his gaze to your lips and neck. But you figured that was because he was still getting used to your face and he was sussing you out a bit to see if he wanted anything to do with you beyond this conversation.
But that was true. He was checking you out. He saw your Instagram pictures before he contacted you (always his first step) and thought you were cute and wouldn’t mind seeing you in person. He certainly wasn't disappointed by you when he saw you either. You were cute and a little nervous and when you started talking about how you enjoyed giving that loser a blow job he couldn’t help but shift his eyes down to your mouth and imagine what your lips would look like on his cock. He wondered if you’d be just as eager to suck him off as you seemed like you were for the other guy.
Now, Harry was a polite and nice man. He was as respectful as they came. But he was still a man with a very high sex drive and he couldn’t help it. He did enjoy having sex and he got a lot of ass because he was good at what he did. And he was under no allusion that it also didn’t have anything to do with how attractive he was. Because of course, it did. He was aware of the way women looked at him and all the whispers about him on campus. And most of the time the sessions were just fun sex more than anything else. However, he happily gave guidance when needed.
And this time he was feeling pretty gung-ho to see what you could do. He’d like to get started right away, which normally he’d wait until after the initial meeting before jumping into it but there was something about the way you were looking at him, your eyes hungry and inviting…
You watched Harry shift in his chair and look around the café before he looked back at you, “What are you doing right now? Like after this?”
“Oh… nothing. Was gonna read a little, prep for a test I have on Monday. But…” you shook your head.
“Would you be interested in going somewhere more private? My studio is at the off-campus university apartments. Twenty-minute walk from here.”
Was he…? You scrunched your brows, confused at the sudden invite to his place.
“It’s up to you. I’m not rushing you or anything I just have a free evening and you seem really enthusiastic and I’d like to kind of get a feel for what we’re working with. If you think you’re ready.”
You nodded, “Okay. I mean… yeah. So no roommates?” You laughed nervously as he stood up and it was the first time you let your attention fall to the space at his crotch, to which you quickly bobbed your eyes back up to his face as you stood.
“Nope. Co-ed apartments. No roommate. Super private.” He didn’t miss the way you scraped your eyes over his torso and down to the spot on his jeans where his zipper was.
So that was that then. You’d be getting a lesson sooner than you imagined. And when you walked the twenty minutes through campus and the street that was just adjacent to the cafeteria you could almost hear your heart pounding. He was taller than you expected. He easily kept the conversation alive with small talk. He seemed so confident and easygoing. You tried to let that charisma and charm soak through your veins so that you weren’t as nervous as you felt, but it was impossible. You were about to go into Harry Style’s apartment alone and probably give him a blow job.
Harry waved at a few people on your way up to his floor. He was clearly popular. You wondered if anyone knew what might be happening. Why you were with him and why you were following behind him like you were a pup being trained and he was carrying a treat.
“Here she is,” he opened his door and gestured for you to walk inside. Neat and tidy with stacks of books and lots of plants. Some plants hanging, most potted, and on the floor or on tables. You noted he had no television and that there was a big partition that separated the small living space from what was probably where he had his bed. The kitchen was organized with open shelving and he’d bought a wire rack and it was stacked full of packaged foods, spices, oil, and other things to cook with at the top and at the bottom with pots and pans and a blender with its cord neatly wrapped around the base.
He excused himself to the bathroom while you looked around. There wasn’t anywhere to go really. There were two doors in the whole place. The bathroom door and another one, which you assumed was a closet. The kitchen area was open to the small living space.
When Harry emerged he sat down on the couch, which looked well-worn. You wondered how many people he’d had over and on that very couch. He sat with his legs spread and drew his arms over the back of the couch and just watched as you stepped in closer toward the small coffee table, “I like all the plants,” you commented.
He nodded and you clasped your hands behind your back in wait for what would happen next. You didn’t want to look again at his crotch. But the way he was sitting made it hard. He took up so much space on that couch and with his legs spread open like they were, it was almost as if he wanted you to.
“Gonna sit with me? I’m not gonna do anything if you don’t want.”
You nodded and sat down, keeping your limbs close to your body and separate from him. You didn’t want to invade his space or get in too close. Not yet anyway. Not until he invited you. Or rather, until he told you what to do next.
“Everything I said at Maud’s still stands. If you change your mind that’s fine. I’m not going to be mad.”
You turned to look at him and swallowed. The guy was out of this world. Simply delicious looking. “Okay.” You spoke in barely above a whisper.
Harry leaned forward, putting his elbows over his knees as he kept his eyes on you, “Is this how you usually initiate?”
You raised your brows and shook your head, “What?”
“You said you wanted to be better at initiating. So far, I’m not getting any signals that you’re interested. Could be your first problem. Try relaxing a little, Y/n. Sit back and unhook your fingers. Loosen your shoulders. Not only will you feel more settled, but you’ll make the person with you feel better too. Which could push you to naturally begin conversation or movements that encourage contact.”
“Oh. Okay,” you sat back into his couch and loosed your hands, relaxing your posture, and looked at him, “Like this?”
Harry grinned and let out a small laugh, “Perfect. Now at least it appears you’re not scared of me.”
“I’m not scared,” you quickly shook your head.
“I didn’t think you were. But your body language was giving closed-off signals. Which could appear to some like fear or discomfort.”
It made sense you guessed.
“I see. So, relax and it makes everyone feel better.”
He grinned, “So tell me what normally happens when you’re with someone and it leads to something sexual. Set the scene for me.”
You cleared your throat and decided to use your last time with Gunther as the example.
“Well, we were in his dorm room listening to music and laughing about something–“
“Back up a little. Did you invite yourself to his room? Did he invite you? What happened before you got to his room?”
“Oh, uh…” you pursed your lips in thought. “Well, we were out with two mutual friends. At a bar. Gunther, his name is Gunther, he was kind of flirting with me and I liked it. We didn’t really know each other all that well before but I always found him interesting. And so… he was flirting with me. Complimenting me. Things like that. Then he asked me to go back to his room with him. So, I sort of figured something would happen,” you shrugged. You didn’t know why it was so weird telling him all those details but it was.
You recounted how Gunther had made all the moves; kissed you first, groped you and then somehow it ended up with you sucking him off while he laid back on his bed and you were between his legs.
“And… he didn’t return the favor? Like you didn’t get anything?”
You shook your head, “I mean, I didn’t ask. He got off and then that was it really. I left not long after.”
Harry frowned, “Okay. And did you hope he’d do something in return? Like, use his hands or his mouth on you? Did you want more?”
Another shrug of your shoulders, “I mean… I didn’t expect it. Thought maybe next time we could do more? I don’t know.”
“You didn’t expect it. But would you have liked it?”
Nodding your head you looked away from his eyes, “I guess.”
“Did it turn you on?”
Another embarrassing thing to admit to someone you hardly knew. You nodded again, “It just all happened really quickly. I kind of thought things would take longer and we’d chat and maybe he’d have me stay longer and then… well anyway. It was like a total of thirty minutes or something that I was in his room.”
Harry sighed and crossed his leg over his thigh toward you, “And you really want to give Gunther the best head you can? The guy who wasn’t worried about your own needs? Seems very selfless of you, Y/n.”
You let out a breath and laughed, “I know. I just want to be good at it. And that was the first time we did anything so I figured I’d give him a pass.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you. Gunther is lucky you’re still willing to give him another shot.”
“I guess I thought if I was better he’d want to do it more and maybe then we could do other things too.”
“I’m going to be honest, Y/n,” Harry stretched his arm across the back of the couch, “You’re very cute and you probably won’t need to worry much about initiating most of the time. Like, for me, all you have to do is look at me with those pretty eyes and I’m ready to do whatever you want me to.”
It had been a surprise to hear that. You weren’t sure what to do with that information but you couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you looked down at your lap.
“But a good start is to keep eye contact. At least enough to indicate interest. Can you look at me?”
Lifting your gaze to his he grinned, “There we go. So pretty.”
You shook your head, “I’m sure you say that to everyone.”
Harry lifted his hand to your cheekbone, “No. I don’t. And I don’t do this with just anyone either. Sometimes I turn down a request. I don’t tell them why but… There’s gotta be attraction on my end as well. And I find you very attractive, Y/n.”
You swallowed down the saliva in your throat and blinked for a break in eye contact before biting your lip.
“Now, even though we’re here for one thing, I do have opinions on matters of the heart and relationships. And frankly, I have to be honest about this Gunther, guy,” he dropped his hand, making his fingers brush down your cheek until he was no longer touching you, “I don’t like that he didn’t offer to get you off too. That’s a big red flag in my book. I feel it’s important to give and to receive unless it’s explicitly stated at the beginning. But you told me you thought you’d get more. And that bothers me.”
“Well, he’s a nice guy. I think he just wasn’t thinking…”
“He wasn’t thinking about your needs. That was selfish of him and something to watch out for. We can give him a pass for the first time, but if you see him again and he still doesn’t think about your needs, I’d hope you’d end that relationship and seek someone who’s willing to be less selfish with you.”
It surprised you that Harry was saying that about Gunther. But perhaps he was right. You did leave his dorm that night quite disappointed.
“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. I know you barely know me but that’s just my take. I’d never not offer to return the favor,” he kept his eyes on yours and you swore his lips were suddenly a shade darker. They looked like the perfect lips to kiss.
He grinned when he noted where your eyes were homed in on, “Do you mind coming closer? Feels like you're still too far away.”
You puffed out a nervous laugh as you scooted your bottom in closer toward Harry. His arm was draped over the back of the couch behind you and you felt the warmth of him before you felt his fingers graze the back of your neck.
“So, I can kiss you? Can we start there?”
You breathed out through your nose and smiled as you nodded and kept your face angled toward his. He watched as you hesitantly put your palm on his knee and he put his hand over yours, “You’re a natural. See?”
Another soft laugh fell from your mouth as Harry’s face drew in closer to yours and your heart stopped as he nudged his nose into yours and you felt his soft lips smush against yours.
It didn’t take long for you to start feeling that familiar heat between your legs as he ran his tongue against yours. It felt so intimate… not like a tutor lesson or anything of the sort. It was you and a handsome man making out on his couch as he pulled you onto his lap. It felt real.
For some reason, you imagined it being a little more dry. Like a real lesson. Like he’d pull his pants down and tell you what to do and show you what he liked and what really made men go wild. You hadn’t imagined kissing being part of the equation for some reason.
“Did he tell you how soft your lips are or how those sweet little noises coming from your mouth drove him crazy?”
He spoke his words between kisses and you were going to pass out. Because no, Gunther gave you no compliments once you got into his dorm room.
You shook your head as you parted from the kiss, your eyes on his.
Harry’s eyes roved your face as he softly dragged his thumb back and forth on your jaw, “I don’t like him one bit. You deserve someone who’s going to tell you how good you are and how good you make them feel.”
He softly pressed his lips against yours again, the kiss heating up into a frenzied pace once again as you stuffed your fingers into his hair and then you felt the bulk of his erection under your thigh when you moved in closer.
Parting from the kiss you looked down and then back up at him and he just smiled. Like it was the most normal and natural thing ever. Which… it kind of was.
“Got me all hard already,” he slid his thumb from the edge of your bottom lip inward and you moaned, “Just like that. You’re already better than you think you are. You’re driving me crazy, Y/n. I want to see what these lips look like wrapped around my cock. Can we do that?”
You nodded and began to move off of him but Harry took your hand in his, making you pause, “I’ll let you get me off if you let me get you off too. Okay?”
Your eyes widened, “Really? I thought this was just for–“
“I have a method and it always includes getting the other person off too. Or at least making them feel good. Unless you don’t want that. That’s okay too, but I would prefer to touch you as well.”
“Okay,” your words were breathy as he helped you off his lap, keeping your hand in his but then he stood up and you watched as he ran his free hand over his crotch, “Is it okay if we do it my bed? A little more space there. Think it’ll feel less rushed.”
Obviously yes. You wouldn’t dream of saying no to this man. Not that you wanted to.
The space behind the partition was just a bed and one side table. His bed was neatly made and there was a plant hanging by the opening of the partition. He gestured for you to follow him onto his mattress and he placed his back at the wall, where he had no headboard.
Kneeing up to him you were feeling shy again and he leaned forward and cupped your face with one hand, “You’re doing so good. If you need to stop at any time just say the word. I’m not here to make you do something you don’t want. Okay?”
You nodded, “Yeah. I know. I trust you.”
“Good. Just wanted to remind you is all. I don’t want you to feel like you have to keep going even if I’m enjoying it, which I have a feeling I’m gonna like whatever you do to me.”
You giggled and nodded. He was fluffing up your ego and you hadn’t even really gotten started yet.
Harry started to push his jeans down, lifted his hips to get them off his legs, and then kept his eyes on you as he held his hand out for you to take, “Come here.”
You put your hand in his and let yourself get pulled between his legs as you looked down at the sizable lump under his boxer briefs, “Can we take your jeans off? Kind of want to have you in my lap a little while before we get down to it, yeah?”
You nodded and unhooked your button before pulling your zipper down. Harry’s hands found your hips as you tugged your jeans down and he helped you out of them, leaving you in just your hoodie and panties. Like Harry. He was just in his boxer briefs and his hoodie too.
You crawled into his lap, your thighs straddling his, and sat down as Harry smoothed his hands up and down your thighs, “There we go. This feels nice, having you close like this,” he ran his palms toward your bottom and then back down your thighs to your knees, “How are you feeling?”
You put your palms on his shoulders, “Good. Feel good. And you?”
“I’m feeling great. I’ve got you here in my lap,” he brought a hand up from your thigh to your face, his fingers sliding behind your ear with his thumb at your cheekbone, “And I like you. I think this’ll be fun. Just want you to feel at ease with me.”
You shifted on his lap, getting in closer, “I do feel at ease with you, Harry. You’re really nice.”
“Good. That’s what I want to hear,” his voice was soft as he gently pulled you towards him and pressed his mouth against yours again. His kiss was soft and sultry. Harry was far more sensual than you imagined he would be. Lots of soft touches and reassuring words. And his mouth against yours was addictive.
You moaned when his thumb ran along the edge of your panties at your thigh and you rocked your hips down, pressing your panties-covered pussy over his erection.
He inhaled softly through his teeth and lowered his mouth to your neck where you were melted into him. His warm mouth sponged wet kisses down your pulse point as you lowered a hand to the top of his cock.
He sighed when you began to rub your palm over him and you began to move back. You were ready to get him in your mouth.
“You can bring me out if you want. Or I can do it. Whichever you’re more comfortable with.”
You bit your lip and continued palming over him as you kept your gaze focused on his, “I’ll do it. Do guys like that more?”
He grinned and the dimples that carved into his cheeks had you swooning, “Yeah. Maybe. Depends on the guy but it can feel like the girl is really excited, like she can’t wait – the enthusiasm is nice. For me? I do like it more. But honestly, I wouldn’t complain if you wanted me to do it myself.”
You nodded in understanding as you focused on the dark green material of his underwear and reached toward the waistband. You looked up at him once more to check in and he just gave you a singular nod to keep going so you did.
The material was warm and stretchy. And you loved the way it felt to run your palm up the length of him, before peeling the fabric away and slowly revealing his cock. His tip was thick and smooth and dark pink. And then his shaft was girthy, quite meaty really, but so stiff. And when you’d pulled his underwear down far enough you took the whole of him in and it was… well it was a bit overwhelming. There was no way on God’s green earth you’d be able to stick that whole thing in your mouth.
“You don’t have to have it all in there. This isn’t a porno. I don’t need you to choke on it or anything like that. Use your hands and your mouth, as long as it’s nice and wet it’s gonna feel really good.”
You nodded. It was a relief that he wasn’t expecting you to deepthroat that thing, “Do you like it when someone can take it all the way?”
Harry breathed a laugh out of his nostrils, “Well… only if the person giving head likes that kind of thing. I would never enjoy it if someone wasn’t into that. But yes. I do rather like it. Not more than any other type of blow job, though.”
You gulped and continued palmed at his length softly. Harry kept his eyes on you to watch how you’d do it. To see what your go-to move was and when you made no move he finally spoke, “Go in however you want. Let’s see how you normally go about giving a blow job.”
“Okay. Yeah…” You took a deep breath and lowered yourself down as he fixed his feet flat on the mattress with knees bent upward, making space for you to fit between his thighs. First, you spat over his tip and used your hand to rub your saliva down his shaft. A quick glance up at him and he looked like he was enjoying it.
After spitting another glob over his slit that clung to your lips a little longer than it did the first time things were feeling much wetter. You stroked along the full length of his cock, from base to tip, tip to base, and back again as you lowered further, getting your lips just over his tip, and looked up at him, swiping your tongue over his crown. Smooth and warm. Adjusting your hips you got into a better position and gripped his base with both hands as you began to take him in your mouth. Your tongue cupped the underside of his cock as you dipped down and pulled up, suckling at his tip before repeating.
Harry’s fingers gently pushed at your chin, “I’d like you to do one thing for me, Y/n…” your eyes shot up to his, “Can you keep your eyes on me, just like you’re doing right now?”
You pulled off and nodded, “Yeah. Sorry.”
Harry tutted at you, “You didn’t do anything wrong. Just really fond of your pretty eyes. Personal preference is all.”
Keeping your gaze on his you kissed his tip softly and slowly before tonguing at his frenulum. It was a good thing you were looking at him in that moment because the expression on his face as you ran your tongue along the underside of his cockhead was lascivious and the sudden heat between you two might not have been noticed if you hadn’t been looking at him.
When you lowered your lips over him again, hollowing your cheeks and cupping the underside of his dick with your tongue, he palmed over your cheek and softly thumbed at your temple, “Y/n… fuck… that’s really good. Keep looking at me like this pretty girl.”
The soft touch from his hand and thumb on your face was full of affection and made your heart thunder in your chest. It made you dizzy the way he was looking at you. It was such a lewd act but somehow filled with tenderness.
The drool that leaked out of your mouth and down his shaft allowed your hands to slip around his base, twisting as you bobbed over the first bit of him with your mouth. It seemed like he was really enjoying what you were doing. Having your eyes on him while you were doing it felt more encouraging than embarrassing.
And Harry was very much enjoying what you were doing. He wasn’t all that picky when it came to getting blow jobs. Why would he be? Some hot girl wanted him to show her how to be better? Well, he rarely did much in the way of making someone any better than they already were.
Harry never intended to be known as a sex tutor or a sex guru. He was just a guy who loved sex. A guy who was patient and who really did care about the person he was with, even if it was just a one-time thing (which most of them were). And his line of studies gave him insight many lacked. The more he slept around (safely) the better he got and the more he understood. He put into practice the things he learned in his classes and when he was a Junior after a string of hookups with a group of very popular seniors he started to get a reputation.
It started with comments and discussions on the size of his cock. Then it eventually escalated to him being very good in bed. And how he could always make a woman come (he didn’t always make them come but he certainly tried and he learned the art of allowing sex to just be something that felt good and intimate and didn’t have to end in that elusive orgasm every time).
The first girl who was bold enough to ask him if he’d help her get to know her body better, had told him how she heard he was the best… and that had caught off guard. But he gave it a go. And he wound up enjoying the whole thing so much that when another girl asked him for help he decided there was no harm in going along with it.
He wasn’t trying to take advantage of anyone, as some jealous of his prowess would make it seem. No, he just really wanted to help, he loved that connection and to have it end with sex (in whatever form) was never a bad thing. Mostly he was just having fun and if he could use some of his knowledge and give someone confidence by the end of a “session” then so be it.
When you sucked around him, slurping noises came from between your lips and the skin on his shaft and he moaned, “Oh that’s good…” He gently placed a hand at the back of your neck and nudged his hips upward the slightest when he felt his cock start to throb and balls tightened.
Harry pulled at you to bring you up so you slid your lips from his tip and looked at him with pretty rounded eyes as you sat on your knees.
“You’re perfect. If I had you sucking me off like this every day I’d have no complaints. That’s the work of someone who’s into it and I can tell you are. Got me so close to coming already,” he took your hand and kissed the tops of your knuckles. Yeah, you were already smitten with him. But maybe that was just because you liked his praise so much.
“Thank you,” you grinned shyly.
Harry took the hand he kissed and brought it down between his legs, sliding your fingers on the underside of his balls, “There’s this spot right here. Kind of smooth. Feel that?”
You nodded.
“It’s called the perineum. This spot,” he pressed the pad of your middle finger over the area of skin, “Feels really good when you rub it gently. Especially while you’re also giving a blow job. Maybe take my balls in your palm a little to massage them and then move to the perineum. Just about any man you suck off is gonna absolutely love it. It’s also a really good trick when you just want the guy to come already, ‘cause maybe he’s taking too long,” he grinned.
He dragged your hand up to cup his scrotum and you kept your eyes on his as you softly squeezed. Harry’s brows narrowed and his lips parted, “Let’s do that yeah? Wanna give it a go?”
Nodding, you lowered yourself again, your lips parting around his crown as you gently massaged his balls and kept your eyes angled up toward his. You kept one hand at the base of his shaft and felt the full, warmth of his sac in your palm before you pulled off of his cock and dropped your lips down to his balls, kissing the skin all around and skimming your tongue through every crevice and wrinkle, wetting him on all sides.
You remembered you were supposed to be looking up at him and when you saw his face it only egged you on. His soft groan and pink puffy lips parted in lust with hooded eyes so you wound your tongue down further and pressed the tip of your wet muscle to the spot he called the perineum.
“Fuck! Yes…”
You liked that reaction. So you did it again and used your hand on his shaft to continue pumping him in long strokes as you pressed over the small strip of skin under his scrotum before you brought your tongue all the way up over his balls and to his base. The pre-come dripping from his tip made things wetter as you slid your palm over him.
You kept one finger on his perineum and then brought your mouth back over his cock and the desperate whimper that fell from his lungs made you feel giddy. You sucked him in and flicked your sight up to him but his eyes were closed. You could feel his legs trembling as your shoulder was pressed into his inner thigh. Gently you brought your hand over his scrotum and massaged as you worked his tip with your lips and tongue.
He placed both of his hands on either side of your head, “Y/n… yes… honey I’m gonna come. That’s so good. You’re so good for me… holy shit… where do you want me to come, huh?”
You were kind of amazed at how he was so melty and whimpery from the blow job you were giving him. You lifted and looked up at him, “Just come in my mouth. Want you to feel good.”
He nodded as he panted and you put your lips back on him, lowering down and sucking as you used your tongue to apply pressure to his crown. Continuing to play with his balls and peek up at him you saw the moment his face scrunched up and his lips dropped open wide. No sound came out at first but you tasted the first pump of his come down your throat and then felt his big cock throbbing against your tongue and it was the hottest blow job you’d ever given. And you weren’t even receiving… the reaction he gave you had you so turned on and so dizzy that you felt the need to take him deeper.
You forced yourself down further, feeling his tip nudging and spurting at the top part of your throat and you swallowed around him before sputtering slightly.
When he finally began to moan it was deep and throaty. His head was tilted back, facing the ceiling as he pumped into your mouth and down your throat. The hands he held at the side of your face were gentle and honestly? You were in heaven. You could do this with him every day if he let you.
And you tried not comparing Gunther to Harry but it was hard. Harry was so masculine and his cock was prettier and much bigger. With Gunther, you could almost take all of him in your mouth without much issue. You didn’t but you probably could have. Harry was a different story. His big cock filled up all the space in your mouth and he smelled so good too. It was a mix of what you assumed was his natural smell with a clean powdery soap.
But it was the moans Harry was making that had you feeling so worked up. He really enjoyed your blow job and that was all you needed to feel good about yourself and your ability.
Harry’s moan quieted into a simper as you continued dragging your tongue along the underside of his cock until he lulled his head forward and looked down at you, “S’good. Fuck that was good.” He prodded at you to bring your mouth off of him and you sat back with a proud smile.
He leaned forward to pull at the back of your neck and smash his lips against yours. You clung onto his shoulders as he positioned you next to him on the bed on your bottom and then he ran his hands down your sides and pulled at your sweater, “Can we get this off?”
You gripped the bottom hem of your hoodie as Harry sat back and peeled his sweater off over his head, making you pause so you could devour his chest and his arms, and his abs with your eyes. The tattoos that were scattered over his body and on his arms were no surprise. You’d heard through the grapevine about his tattoos once your roommate told you about him. And you heard he was fit. But this? He was the perfect amount of muscled and beefy. He was lean but he appeared well-fed. Broad shoulders, pecs you could bite into…
You gulped when you felt Harry’s big hands smoothing up and down your limbs as he absorbed the sight of you before you finally pulled your sweater off and then unhooked your bra, holding the cups up against your breasts for a moment to make sure he was still in it. Because maybe your body would be a complete turn off but his expressive face did all the talking and he moved his hands up your hips as his irises roamed over your skin.
“So pretty, Y/n,” he spoke like he knew you needed the reassurance. Which you did. So you slowly lowered your bra and pulled the straps from your arms and almost immediately Harry ducked down and kissed your right nipple while his hand palmed at your left tit. He moaned against your soft flesh and you felt cool air hit your skin in the path where his tongue laved against you.
A soft gasp fell from your lips when he wrapped his mouth over your nipple and looked up at you from his spot, pink lips suckling at your breast. It was almost as if he needed to make sure he was doing what you liked. As if the man wasn’t some kind of expert.
Harry’s bulky body moved over you and his hands brushed over the skin at your sides and down to your hips where your panties clung tight. You lifted your hips, ready for him to take care of you, ready to have him pull the last bit of fabric from your body and Harry grinned at you.
“I’m gonna pull these down, okay?”
Nodding you laughed in slight nervousness. You weren’t sure when you’d gotten so eager but giving Harry a blow job had made you a bit insatiable and all of the nice things he said about you, how good you were... Your insides were aching and you knew you were probably already wet, the crotch of your panties was warm against your skin.
And as he slowly dragged the material down your legs he kept looking up at you. A little bit of reassurance that he was only going to go as far as you wanted.
Paying close attention to his eyes you watched him drag his gaze over all your crevices and then up to your tits and then your eyes as he licked his lips. He wrapped a hand on the underside of your calf, lifting your leg the smallest bit as he tucked himself in closer, his shoulders pressing into your thighs.
The warm, soft kisses he dotted on your inner thigh as he looked up at you made you feel worshiped. Like he was savoring the moment and was going to take his time with you.
“Y/n, I just want to make you feel good. Tell me if you don’t like something or if you need something more okay? Because you did so good for me and I’m gonna be dreaming about those lips on me. Just want to make you feel as good as good as you made me feel.”
Harry could tell you liked a bit of praise. A compliment here and there was easy enough to throw in because it was all true. You were very good and you were so pretty and now he was going to return the favor as best he could.
When you felt his tongue swipe up through your crease you moaned faintly as you kept your eyes on him. And when he dug in more, attached his lips to your pussy, and began sucking at you the groan that fell from his chest rumbled through your core and you held on to the back of his head as you arched your back off of the pillow under yourself. His lips slicked up and down, tongue pressing at your clit and then he moved, bringing his arm in and you felt his fingers prodding at your entrance as he looked up at you, pulling his mouth away from your pussy, “Tastes so good, Y/n. Could bury my face here all day long. You mind if I finger you a little? Would that feel good?”
He ran his digits through your folds like he already knew your answer and you nodded quickly, “Yeah. Okay. If you want.”
He grinned before you felt him push his middle finger past your opening and then he watched the face you made as he curled his finger up in your magic little spot. The one only your rabbit vibrator seemed to be able to hit.
You gasped and with that, he brought his lips back over your clit and got to work. His dark curls were smooth and thick between your fingers and the way he kept pulling his gaze up to yours as he licked into you was naughty. The whole scene was something from a dream. There was something so soft about how he kept his eyes on you to check-in.
You’d had a couple of guys go down on you before but they had no idea what they were doing and you weren’t sure if it was just supposed to feel like slippery nothing gliding over your labia or not. But now, with Harry doing the work… well you realized what it was actually meant to feel like. And Harry was not giving you slippery nothing.
He seemed to enjoy it as well which made your heart lurch in your chest. Especially with how he was moaning into you like you tasted good. And he had told you as much, which… that had you on edge already.
When Harry slid in a second finger he opened his mouth wide and tongued up from where his fingers were pumping into you to your clit.
You couldn’t help the pathetic moans that were loudly bouncing off the walls of his studio, “Oh god, Harry…”
But the thing that was really seeping into your skin and your veins and making your heart pound was his eyes on yours. You couldn’t get over it. It was so intimate and sexy and the gushy noises coming from your slippery pussy were lewd and dirty. It was the perfect juxtaposition of just nasty enough but also sweet and soft that had you spiraling.
When they tell you that the biggest part of getting turned on is all in the mind, that’s absolutely true. Harry was a master at it. You weren’t sure you’d ever been so turned on with any man before. He really knew which buttons to push and all the right things to say.
“Fuck, that’s good… holy shit, Harry…”
He loved hearing you whine his name and the feel of your hips bucking upward in tiny bursts. You were one of those girls that was going to have an orgasm, he just knew it. The way you kept getting wetter every time you shot your eyes down to his was a big telltale sign. Some didn’t like the eye contact but he loved it and so did you, clearly.
He moaned into your pussy and swallowed you down as he worked his tongue in teasing circles around your clit before wrapping his lips around you again and smushing down over you with just the right amount of pressure.
The arm he had under your thigh he wrapped under your lower back, pulling you in closer if that was possible, as he continued fingering you with his other hand. The man was unquenchable. Like he needed to stuff his face in as close as humanly possible. Like he needed to suck you dry and make it so that you never forgot his name.
Your insides were melting for him. His fingers were magic inside of you and it had your brain all fuzzed out and blurry. But the way he rolled your clit under his tongue was divine, otherworldly… he knew what he was doing with that big mouth of his.
You gasped and looked back down at him again and his eyes were already pinned to yours.
“Oh… gonna co… oh fuck, gonna come…” you felt like you were being lifted into the air, levitating and vibrating off the bed and out of the atmosphere as he kept his fingers and his tongue steady. But when he moaned deeply into your cunt, that low resonate sensation traveling from your clit to your core and through your tummy made you lose control.
You didn’t realize you were yanking his hair as your legs quaked and your body liquified under him. But it didn’t deter him. He watched you unravel, tits bouncing and back arching as you orgasmed into his mouth and he curled his fingers up against your g-spot as you clamped over his digits.
If he didn’t have his mouth occupied he would have praised you more in that moment. Told you how pretty you were and how good you did for him. But he waited until you began to slowly come back to earth before whispering into your ear the sweet things he knew you’d like to hear.
He laid next to you and grasped your face, kissing your lips softly as you sighed, “So fucking good. What a pretty orgasm that was, Y/n…” He spoke between kisses.
“Did that all for me? Yeah?”
You couldn’t answer him. Not in that moment. You’d just melted and dissolved and had only begun to re-solidify and become a real human with lungs and limbs and skin and pores again.
“You are really fun to eat out, Y/n. Tasted so nice and you sound so sexy when you come. You can call me anytime you need a release okay?” He continued kissing your cheek and your lips as he spoke softly.
Harry didn’t rush you out like you thought he might. He rubbed over your tummy and kissed your breasts softly and ran his lips up the side of your neck as you slowly opened your eyes and sighed.
“Feel okay?”
You nodded and smiled, “Really good.”
“Stay as long as you want. Okay? No rush. We can even grab dinner together if you want or I can make you something.” Harry wasn’t sure why he asked you that. While he didn’t usually rush anyone out, he didn’t typically offer food or dinner either. There was just something about you that compelled him to ask. Perhaps he hoped you’d stick around a bit longer.
You sat up, “Oh. That’s really nice of you. But… maybe I should probably head back. Get some schoolwork done.”
You’d have loved to stay for dinner but you also didn’t want to get your feelings mixed up for a guy like Harry. Not that there was anything wrong with him, but you understood what this was. A one-time thing. Something fun where you got to learn a thing or two. If you stuck around too long you’d probably just want more. And that would only end in heartbreak for you. Because Harry was kind of the ideal guy in a lot of ways.
“Of course. Just thought I’d ask.”
There were no hard feelings for this kind of thing. Harry wasn’t offended that you didn’t want to stay. He’d had a good time with you and he was almost certain you had a good time as well. And that was just about all one could ask for.
Harry let you use his bathroom to clean up and get dressed. And as you did so you thought about how Gunther didn’t even offer you anything to eat or to stay after. In fact he didn’t even ask if you wanted to use his bathroom, when that would have been nice after giving him head. Because even though Gunther didn’t really touch you, you were still wet, and walking back to your dorm with wet panties was not a nice feeling. Especially when you didn’t even get anything out of it.
You’d be wary of Gunther. You’d give him another shot because you were a nice girl but you weren’t going to ignore the concerns Harry had. Perhaps Harry was right.
When you stepped out of the bathroom Harry handed you a glass of water, “Drink a little before you head out, and what dorm do you live in?” He looked down at his phone as he asked.
“Oh… uh the Millennium dorms near the arts building.”
He nodded as you took a gulp of the water and he showed you his phone, “Uber will be here for you in three minutes. I’ll walk you down, okay?”
“Wait. You didn’t have to do that! Um… I can walk or get an Uber myself it’s–“
He shook his head and grinned, “I know I didn’t have to but it’s getting late. Don’t want you walking twenty minutes by yourself. Who knows what could be lurking out there,” he laughed.
You pointed at him, “Fine. But I’m gonna pay you back. Next time I see you okay?”
“Not necessary. Now come on,” he playfully swatted at your bottom and directed you toward his door, “Let’s go downstairs and wait for…” he looked at his phone, “Rebecca in a white Trail Blazer.”
PART 2 COMING SOON
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It’s been done in every which way but Eddie being in an accident of some kind that leaves him paralyzed, but his doctors believe he could walk again with intense physical therapy
He’s stubborn and absolutely hasn’t dealt with any of the trauma of the accident and takes it out on his physical therapist, Steve, who is used to patients being pretty angry about their situation
He always meets Eddie where he is though, tries to keep a smile on his face and joke when appropriate and even shares his cookies from his lunchbox with him
Eventually, Eddie starts making some progress, but instead of being happy about it, he panics and cancels all his PT appointments for the week
Steve tries calling, texting, emailing, doing everything he can to encourage him to keep going, but it all goes unanswered until Gareth, one of Eddie’s closest friends, calls him on Eddie’s phone
He’s depressed and he won’t get out of bed, he’s given up. He’s tired of being in pain and having to try to so hard just to move his damn legs a little
Steve isn’t usually this personal with clients, and tells Gareth he can’t discuss anything medical with him due to patient confidentiality, but insists he should try to drag him to the office the next day before it opens
And somehow, probably through guilt, Gareth manages to wheel a very sullen and grumpy Eddie into the side door entrance to the office at seven in the morning
Steve tells him to come back in an hour to pick him up and Eddie ignores the goodbye Gareth says to him
And Steve pretends nothing is wrong at all, goes through the usual temperature and blood pressure check, asks how he’s feeling and gets a grunt in response, asks if there’s any pain and gets an eye roll
But Eddie met his match in Steve because Steve then pushes him to the center of the workout room, where a large mat is out and a walker is set to the side
“What’s that?”
“Your walker.”
“I don’t need one seeing as I can’t fucking walk.”
“You are today.”
And Steve knows he’s pushing and he hates being pushy
But he knows what his clients are capable of, and he knows without a single doubt in his mind that Eddie is ready to use the walker for five to ten minute increments. He has the leg strength and the stubbornness, he just needs the belief in himself
“Do you want me to hurt myself worse?”
“Of course not. And if you get tired, the seat on the walker is right there. But you can walk and you will walk.”
“And if I call Gareth to come get me right now?”
“Then I don’t believe my services are of value to you anymore and I’ll wish you the best.”
It pained Steve to say it because he knew he was fucking good at what he did, maybe the best in town. His clients often had to wait for his availability to open for weeks or months at a time because of how many people were referred to him
But he said the right thing because Eddie huffed, groaned, and cursed under his breath before wheeling himself to the edge of the mat to hold onto the walker
He pulled himself up
His legs were shaking from not being used for the last few days more than the bare minimum, but his determination was clear
Steve slowly pulled the chair away as Eddie unlocked the brakes of the walker and glared at Steve as he took one step, then two
Sure, he was relying pretty heavily on the walker, maybe more than Steve would’ve liked to see, but he was moving
He made it across the mat and then locked the brakes, sat down on the pad on the walker, and gave a sarcastic grin to Steve
“Happy?”
“Are you?”
And maybe Eddie wasn’t ready to be asked that because he was suddenly sobbing, covering his face as tears flowed down his cheeks
Steve gave him a few seconds before moving to kneel in front of him, pulling his hands away
“You deserve to have your life back, Eddie. You’ve been lucky to have the chance to walk again. Let’s not waste it, okay?”
Eddie spent the rest of the session walking across the mat and taking breaks every two minutes or so
It was better than Steve even expected, but he reminded Eddie not to do too much at once
Eddie didn’t miss any more appointments with Steve, and every appointment, he seemed to be more charming and flirty, more like “the old Eddie” according to Gareth, who drove him most days
Steve never admitted it out loud, but he knew what he felt for Eddie was different from other clients. It felt more personal, and it felt like it could be more someday
When Eddie graduated to a cane, Steve’s services were officially no longer needed
And Eddie decided that he should probably take Steve out on a date
“Since I can walk and hold your hand now,” he winked.
Steve should say no, but he doesn’t
Because holding Eddie’s hand feels even more right as his boyfriend than it did as his physical therapist
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#headcanon#physical therapist Steve#idk going through my notes on things I’ll never have time to actually write#but maybe someone else does#I’m literally ignoring work so hard right now#I’m just tired!!!!#im just a girl who doesn’t wanna work anymore!!!!#cw: injury#cw: mention of accident
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hi!! just wanted to say i love your works sm <3 i was wondering if you can do more megumi smaus or drabbles they’re too cute and i love the way you write him tysm!!
sorry this took forever! delivery is here ~~~
all mine
jjk fushiguro megumi x fem!reader
it’s not like megumi is incapable of showing emotions, it’s just that he absolutely sucks at it.
content: jealous megumi, shibuya never happened 🙏 life is good, he’s literally SO whipped for you, established relationship, fluff, aged up!megumi (17/18), word dump (not proofread)
click on my masterlist for more!
“where else did you get hurt?” megumi is sat in shoko’s office chair, rolled in from the room over.
you’re wrapped in bandages from your waist-up, a gnarly gash waiting for shoko’s healing hands. you have on a wide grin contrary to the injuries littering your body.
“nowhere else,” you say, “i promise.”
megumi frowns and gives you a slight glare. he looks you up and down—as far as you’ll let him with the blanket covering you—and sighs. “you need to be more careful.”
“i know,” you say, drawing out the syllables in hopes of calming him down. “yuji was there, though.”
his frown deepens. “it’s not like i don’t trust your strength or yuji’s… i just can’t believe you got so roughed up by a grade 2 curse.”
you roll your eyes. “i made a few mistakes. that’s my bad, dad.”
“shut up,” he mutters. he brushes his thumb against your lower lip, wiping away the crusted blood.
“i’ll be more careful next time,” you whisper, savoring the small acts of intimacy with him. you don’t get them as often as you’d want, so you want to hold onto this moment for a little while longer.
shoko is able to clean you up with her reversed curse technique. she walks into the room with several apologies leaving her lips, telling you that she’d been preoccupied with some other patients. she fixes you up quickly and offers you and megumi some privacy.
“i don’t think i need these bandages anymore.” your fingers twitch, itching to remove the cloth.
megumi immediately stands, his slender fingers coming into contact with your bare skin. you feel him freeze up next to the bed and you look up at him with questioning eyes.
“this isn’t your sweater,” he says with a scrunch of his nose. “it’s not mine, either.”
“it got cold,” you explain, “so yuji gave me his sweater. he thought i was dying so we figured i should go out warm instead of freezing my ass off.”
he taps you on the nose disapprovingly. “you’re an idiot.”
your lips purse and you swat his hand away. “i nearly died and that all you say?”
megumi ignores you, not that you notice—you’re too busy trying to strip off the bandages clinging to your rips—“yuji gave you his sweater?”
“yeah!” you nod, unaware of the rising tension in the air. “oh! i should wash it and return it.”
megumi zeros in on the clothing hugging your body. it’s a grayish pink hoodie with a fading logo on the front. it’s not part of your closet and you’d never wear something like that. something ugly lumps in his throat and he swallows it back.
“take it off.”
you look at him with wide eyes. “sorry?”
“the sweater. take it off.” he points at your chest.
your body heats up, embarrassed. “i… i’m not wearing anything underneath. my shirt was soaked with blood so i…”
megumi blinks rapidly and looks away, the redness creeping down his neck. “how could you go and get yourself so hurt like that?”
he takes a step back and gives himself enough space to slip his sweater off of his body. it’s black, like everything in his closet, and smells like the body wash he uses. he holds it out to you and you take the piece of clothing with hesitant hands.
“wear this once we take off these bandages, okay?” he says as he helps you peel them off.
once your wound is out in the open again, you realize how amazing shoko’s technique is. she’s one of the few sorcerers than can do reverse curse technique, so it’s not like you get the chance to see it every day (and you don’t get hurt badly enough to need her help). however, she isn’t able to completely heal your injury. you’re left with a scar deeply embedded into your skin.
“oh,” you breathe out when you notice the raised bump. “it’s sort of ugly.”
megumi cups your chin. he’s made himself comfortable on the edge of your hospital bed, his weight making the mattress dip slightly. he guides your face to face his own and presses a small kiss to your forehead.
“that doesn’t take anything away from you,” he mumbles shyly. “you’re still beautiful.”
“thank you,” you say, eyes dropping to your fisted hands.
“let’s get that sweater off of you, yeah?”
you laugh despite the rigidness prevalent in your bones. “what’s the big deal? it’s not that dirty.”
megumi almost scowls. “wear mine.”
“okay,” you say with a pout.
if it had been a year ago, megumi would’ve blushed profusely and turned away as you pull yuji’s hoodie over your head. now, he simply bites his tongue when you slip on his sweater with ease. megumi’s scent engulfs your the moment the soft cloth hugs your body. it’s still warm from his body heat.
“i should wash yuji’s stuff and return it later,” you mutter out loud.
“i’ll do that,” megumi interrupts, snatching the hoodie from your hands. “you’re hurt so don’t even think about getting up.”
“shoko just healed me,” you whine petulantly. “you’re being too dramatic, megumi.”
“i don’t care,” he replies with downturned lips. “i hate when you’re assigned to something without me. you always get hurt.”
you raise your brow and flick his forehead. “so do you, megumi.”
“not nearly as bad as you,” he shoots back. he gingerly pushes back your hair from your face.
“it was my fault,” you admit sorely. “yuji knows what he’s doing… i should’ve listened.”
megumi pushes your shoulder down so that you’re laying plush against the soft mattress. your head is propped up by a feathery pillow.
“he’s really cool, you know?” you continue, breaking up the silence in the room. “i think i would’ve died if it wasn’t for him. he’s a lot stronger, obviously. i thought i’d be fine going against his wishes, but i guess i overestimated myself.”
megumi’s eyes sharpen intensely. you know his anger isn’t directed at you because if it was, he’d be avoiding you (it’s a bad habit of his that you two still need to work out). you’re not quite sure what exactly he’s mad at, considering you’re not the reason why his face keeps souring.
“i would’ve kept you safe,” he mumbles out.
you giggle and take his hand into your own. “i know, baby. don’t blame him. it was me.”
“no it wasn’t.” megumi lets you play with his fingers as he speaks. “he’s basically a special grade sorcerer. you’re a grade 2 sorcerer. he should’ve taken precautions.”
“i’m fine,” you insist. “it wasn’t his fault.”
“why’re you taking his side?” megumi blurts out before he can stop himself. he shrinks into himself and pulls his hand back. “i mean—i don’t get why you’re so adamant about protecting his image. you got hurt and nearly died. i’m not doubting any of your abilities, but you know that you’ve only been here for a year.”
you swallow your words. megumi isn’t wrong—you’d been scouted not too long ago. megumi had been your main partner for a majority of your missions, which had sped up your relationship with him. everyone had been quite surprised when you two announced that you were in a relationship. your improvement had been steady, but slower than most. even now, you feel burdened when you’re compared to gojo’s other, more successful students.
“i don’t want you getting mad at your friend,” you choke out. you’ve never liked it too much when megumi scolded you, so you definitely don’t want him angry at his close friend, knowing how distant he can get when he’s mad.
he takes a deep breath and a soft smile appears on his face. “i’m not mad at anyone, stupid. i’m just… i don’t know. i don’t like you being so close to him.”
“what?” you tilt your head, thoroughly confused. “it was for a mission—”
“i know,” he says, and he sounds exasperated. you can’t help but stifle a giggle as he continues, “but you’re so… you’re so smart and beautiful and i wish i’d been there to give you my sweater instead.”
you can see the tips of his ears get pinker and pinker with each word that leave his mouth. your eyes crinkle up when you realize why he’s upset.
“it’s stupid,” he groans, throwing himself into your chest. his position is awkward, but not uncomfortable. his body weight presses you down like a blanket. “i shouldn’t be feeling this way, especially not when you’re half dead.”
you pinch him before wrapping your arms around his neck. he nuzzles into your body like you two aren’t in one of shoko’s treatment rooms.
“i’m not half dead.”
he hums dismissively and you can feel the vibrations of his voice. you take your fingers through his raven locks of hair, breathing in his familiar smell. it smells like home, even though you haven’t actually been there for a long time. megumi has abandoned his spot on the edge of the bed and is basically cuddled up with you at this point.
“i’m just,” he clicks his tongue, “just annoyed.”
“are you jealous?” you say, amused.
you feel him stiffen in your arms. “no.”
“you sure?”
“no.”
“so you’re jealous…?”
“a little.”
“yuji knows we’re together,” you attempt to explain. “so there’s no need to feel like that, megumi.”
“i know,” he says, voice muffled from his face in your neck. “but it still bothers me.”
“i’m all yours.”
“yeah…” megumi grumbles. “i’ll be the only one giving you my sweaters from now on.”
꒰ ♡︎ ꒱
“and what else did you do?” megumi has his face propped on his hands, sitting across from you in the dining hall. he’s got an enamored look on his face, his eyes softening tremendously. if anyone sees him like this, they’d make fun of him for sure.
“we went to the arcade! i was so bummed when you couldn’t come ‘cause of that stupid mission,” you exclaim, talking with your hands and making big gestures, “because you would’ve gotten me so many prizes!”
he nods, his attention fully on you. the cafeteria is empty for the most part—only a few of the first years waddling around curiously. gojo seems to favor the older students more; he doesn’t guide them as much as he had with you and the others.
it’s nearing dinner time. you’d been out and about with a few students of the graduated class all day while he’d been exorcising a nasty curse a few blocks away. he had taken care of it quickly, but felt a little intruding to invite himself on the get together so suddenly after having to cancel last minute.
“i got this!” you shove a stuffed plushie at him. it’s a black cat with a lopsided body from its poor filling. “it looks like you, doesn’t it?”
he throws you a “are you serious?” look, but allows you to have your fun anyway. “i don’t really see it.”
“yuta got it for me,” you say with an excited glint in your eyes. “he won it on his first try!”
megumi’s tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek. “oh?”
“he saw how much i wanted it,” you ramble on, unaware of megumi’s change in demeanor. “it was mainly ‘cause it looked like you, so he promised me he’d get me one if i bought him food.”
megumi nods, slower this time. “i see. anything else?”
“oh!” you nearly jump out of your seat. “i grabbed us matching keychains at the store i really wanted to go in. remember? the one we saw last week? you said we couldn’t go in ‘cause gojo needed us.”
he feels a pang of irritation bite his ribs. he’s been wanting to take you to that store for a while now, but his schedule isn’t the most open. he’s the closest thing gojo has to a successor of some sort, so he’s usually bombarded with missions from the higher ups.
“you get badtz maru and i get kuromi,” you say with a huge grin on your face.
megumi melts. “thank you. i love it.”
“i wish i got to meet yuta and everyone else when you all met…” you pout. “everyone is so cool… especially maki! it’s no wonder nobara adores her. yuta is so nice, too! he’s wonderful.”
“right,” megumi says, jaw clenching. “do you tend to find older boys more fun to hang out with?”
your smile drops. “what?”
“am i not fun?”
“megumi, don’t be ridiculous,” you say through bright laughter. “i would’ve hung out with you all day if you hadn’t been busy.”
“yuta is real cool, right?”
you playfully roll your eyes. “megumi! i’m serious when i say that nobody is cooler than you. i never got the chance to get close to any of the older students before they graduated so i was just really happy they invited me.”
megumi seems to be content with your statement. his shoulder relax and he regains that half-lidded expression on his face.
“did you do anything else fun?”
your face lights up with a mischievous tint. “i got a shirt that says ‘i love my boyfriend’ with your picture on it.”
megumi sighs, but his eyes are full of glee. “i need to stop being so bothered when you’re with other guys.”
“right,” you tease. “i’m yours.”
“all mine.”
a/n: this was really dialogue heavy but i think it’s still a fun read and i hope u enjoyyyyyy!!!!! i love me a jealous megumi bc he would be SO emotionally constipated abt it LOL
#jjk x reader#megumi x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#megumi x you#megumi fushiguro#fushiguro x you#fushiguro x reader#jjk x you
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Welcome back! I have been enjoying your writing but never sent you request before. Would you write maybe Alfie and a younger reader and he likes her. He wants to marry her but she is not ready so he tells her he would wait forever and it's really sweet and patient. something like that I don't know. you can decide if you like it. Thank you!
“Libretto” — (Alfie Solomons x fem!Reader)
SUMMARY — Age difference between you be damned, Alfie was quite happy to wait for you forever.
AUTHOR’S NOTE — Thank you so much for the request! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ Feedback is always much appreciated.
WORD COUNT — 1,678
Masterlist
The first time you met Alfie Solomons was purely an accident. At least, you had to lie and swear to the police that it had all been an accident, if only in order to wriggle yourself out of getting arrested.
Now, had you known the man you nearly ran over with your brother’s car was the gangster boss of Camden Town, you could have been persuaded to drive a little more carefully. Especially since the car had been “borrowed” as well.
But, of course, how could you have known? Which was precisely the reason why the first words you uttered to the man were:
“Watch where you’re fucking going!”
All due credit to Alfie Solomons, he couldn’t have been more shocked.
Now, you have to understand that a man like Alfie Solomons, a particularly dangerous man like Alfie Solomons, usually wasn’t shocked by much. It was not every day, however, that he met a girl with eyes so full of rage, driving a fancy Bentley so obviously outrageous and most likely stolen. It was more than enough to get his interest.
“Well?!” you shouted again as you got out of the car.
It wasn’t until two police officers approached you, however, that you changed your tune. Immediately spotting your confusion, it was time for Alfie to enter the game.
“Alright, Mr. Solomons?” one of the policemen asked, feigning concern, though both of them were so obviously in Alfie’s pocket that they would have arrested you on the spot—had Alfie still not been so mesmerised by your outburst. And so, to your astonishment, they simply awaited his orders.
To Alfie’s absolute delight, you tried your best not to show how scared you were at that moment, so Alfie took his sweet fucking time before saying:
“Right, gentlemen, thank God you’re here, ‘cause there I was, mindin’ me own business, yeah, an’ there she comes, driving like the Devil’s on her tail, hair a mess—!”
“I beg your pardon, my hair is not a mess!”
“Right now it is, yeah.”
“No, it is not!”
“Are ya suggestin’ I should lie about what I saw, Miss?”
“So you… want us to arrest the lady, sir?” one of the policemen interrupted that exchange, incredulous at the interaction between you and Alfie.
It served Alfie right, however, since his reputation had always been one to take care of the women in his community. As things were between him and the law, that charity probably remained the only thing between him and the noose.
“Nah, ‘course not,” Alfie waved his hand dismissively. “She’s clearly in a hurry, ain’t ya, luv?” Alfie asked you, with a smirk so devious you felt your cheeks going hot.
“Yes,” you said meekly, then saw Alfie make a face to encourage you to keep going. To spin the tale.
“I… You see, it’s my grandmother,” you said smoothly and Alfie’s smirk only grew. “That’s my brother’s car, he let me borrow it to fetch the doctor. It’s consumption, you see. Overtakin’ her as we speak.”
As the cherry on top, you stifled a fake sniff.
“Now you see, gentlemen, it’s a case of utmost emergency!” Alfie shouted, waving his cane about and obviously taking great pleasure in participating in your lie. “Thank you for your service, lads, there ya go.”
As the policemen gladly accepted a not-so-discreet bonus to their payment, you saw your chance and started to get back to the car.
But you thoroughly underestimated Alfie’s game.
“There now, I’ll drive ya, luv, you can never be too careful in these parts,” he said and quickly, quicker than you anticipated for the man, he made himself comfortable in the driver’s seat.
“Wouldn’t want any more accidents on the way, now would we, luv?” Alfie grumbled as he promptly handed you his cane and proceeded to fumble with the breaks and the accelerator as if he was trying to tame the car, not run it.
“There we go,” he announced as the engine sputtered and roared and you two sped along the street in a no less reckless manner than you had been driving before.
“Watch out!” you shrieked as Alfie almost drove straight into a flower cart on the corner.
“Don’t worry, luv, I know the way!” Alfie replied, then made a sharp turn towards London Bridge.
“You do?!”
“Right, not exactly, no, but it’s plain as day you’re not from Camden, luv.”
“What gave it away…” you sniped.
“Now, don’t get cocky, right, ya still almost ran me over an’ I have to tell ya, luv, that takes balls, right! ‘Cause as things stand, the bounty for me is as high as they go.”
You paled at the notion and when Alfie glanced at your expression in between the turns, he roared with laughter.
“Naaah, luv, don’t be like that! Just pullin’ your leg.”
“Very funny.”
“I like to think so, yeah.”
Obviously too pleased with himself to notice, Alfie missed you paying close attention to the cane you were still holding. It was definitely heavy and so well-used that you had trouble distinguishing what used to be the shape of its head.
“Right, seein’ as you almost ended me on my own bloody street, luv, you might as well give me your name,” Alfie interrupted your musings, not too pleased about your close inspection of his personal belongings (even though the contradicting bastard gave it to you for self-keeping himself).
But you gave him your name regardless and he remarked he thought it pretty. When you also gave him your address, he drove you straight home and even got out first to open the door for you. You thanked him quickly for what you supposed was straight up hijacking the car, but seeing as you had done so first to your brother, you thought the deeds even. You only prayed no one would see you with Alfie through the window. You knew your sisters would never let you forget it had they seen you two together.
You couldn’t have known that wouldn’t be the last time you saw Alfie Solomons. Somehow throughout the following weeks you seemed to have more chance encounters together than the Fates could possibly allow.
He was always pleasant about it, though, and sometimes even brought you flowers. Then he started buying you lunches and somehow it turned into a little tradition just between you two. You ate lunch together every Thursday.
You weren’t stupid of course, you knew what Alfie was after, but truth be told… You wouldn’t exactly mind giving it to him.
He never outright proposed, but he hinted at marriage enough times that it became just one more piece of the regular fun little puzzle between you.
“An’ how’s my favourite girl this mornin’?” he would ask you when he met you for a stroll.
“Very well, thank you, Alfie,” you’d reply, your tone thoroughly overdone on the casual side.
“Not too cold?”
“No.”
“Not too hungry?”
“Don’t think so.”
“So how ‘bout you marry me today, luv?”
“Oh, I can’t, Alfie!” you giggled as you looped your arm through his and let him lead you around the park. “I’m—”
“Right, let me guess,” he smirked. “Got my shirt inside out again?”
“No, the shirt is very clean today. That’s very unlike you.”
“Well, that’s a first.”
“Well, I told you not to fire your housekeeper, haven’t I?”
“Yeah, no harm done, I offered that old bat her bloody job back,” he grumbled and you giggled again.
“You’ll thank me later, Alfie.”
“I’m sure I won’t, luv.”
“You’re one stubborn man, d’you know that?”
“Yeah, can’t say I’ve never been told that one before.”
“So why can’t I marry you today, Alfie? You promised to guess.”
“Right, how’s about you’re too cold?”
“No, the weather’s quite nice.”
“Too hot?”
“Not really.”
“Too old?”
“Close.”
“Too young?”
You paused and so did he, because he somehow sensed this time it wasn’t just a game between you two. This time it wasn’t just banter; it was real.
“Luv, if I’m makin’ you do anythin’ you wouldn’t want to—”
“No!” you interrupted that train of thought as quickly as possible and took his hand in yours. “No. It’s just that… I don’t think I’m ready to be a wife, yet.”
“Right, in what way?”
“In… In every way, I suppose. I have no idea about running a household or ironing shirts or…”
“Right, thankfully yours truly has already been told he’s a slob.”
“Alfie, this is serious!”
“Right.”
He looked at you expectantly. You still haven’t let go of his hand, which he thought was rather promising.
“I just think I’d make a lousy wife, Alfie.”
“Yeah, that’s that then, luv, right, ‘cause look at the pair of us, I’d be a real lousy husband.”
That got him another giggle out of you, which he thought might have boosted his chances a little.
“Luv, if your parents don’t approve—”
“My parents don’t give two shits, Alfie, I’m not a princess or an heiress,” you chuckled. “I have two younger sisters and two brothers, as far as my chances stand I’d be happy if I scored a baker or some sort.”
“Right, funny you should say that…”
“A front doesn’t count, you madman!”
Even though you knew you crossed a line there by the way he looked around you two, he never did anything to chastise you or show his disapproval at the revelation you just uttered at full volume. In a way, it already told you everything there was to know about the man, had his previous behaviour not been proof enough that he cared about you a great deal.
You already knew you wanted to marry him, age difference between you be damned. So what were you so afraid of exactly?
“Luv, you already know I’m happy to wait for you forever if—”
You shook your head and got on your tiptoes to kiss him mid-speech, since you already knew that a speech was coming. The answer was, with Alfie by your side, you wouldn’t be afraid of anything.
#peaky blinders fanfic#peaky blinders imagine#peaky blinders x reader#alfie solomons fanfic#alfie solomons x reader#alfie solomons imagine#tom hardy fanfic#tom hardy imagine#tom hardy x reader
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“Sit down, Solace, you pain in the ass, I’ll get it.”
Will huffs moodily, trying in vain to continue hobbling towards the cupboards against the infirmary wall. Nico has to physically wrestle him back to his cot, which in theory should be way harder, but luckily he’s weak enough from the pain meds that once Nico manages to shove him against the cushions, he can’t get back up.
Ha. Karma.
“You can’t get it,” says the most dramatic drama queen alive, dramatically, “on account of you not know what ‘it’ is.”
Nico smiles patiently. It resembles, to the outside eye and perhaps the inner one also, the bared teeth of a grinning shark. “Tell me, then.”
“No.”
“Then tough shit for you.”
“I’m just gonna wait until you’re turned away again,” Will calls against his retreating back. Nico flips him the bird. “So this was futile, really.”
He’s stubborn, but he’s not an idiot, Nico reassures himself. Surely, the many years — formative years — he’s spent as head medic have made him smart. Surely, Mr. Nagging Nag shall heed his own advice, lest the entire camp descend upon him in swathes of shrieking, not quite righteous fury, intolerant or hypocrisy. Surely.
He hears the creak of a rickety bed, a thunk of something hitting the wooden floorboards, and a soft oof.
He closes his eyes and exhales deeply.
For fuck’s sake.
When he turns around, he sees William Andrew Solace, Best Healer in Generations, Paraded Progeny of Apollo, Also Notably Naomi Solace’s Son, That’s Kinda Sick, Isn’t It, sprawled on the floor, ridiculously long limbs outstretched, attempting to wiggle across the floor to the cupboards.
“Solace, I am going to kill you.”
“Some healer you are,” Will mutters, as if Nico is not playing healer right now purely because he is the only one in the entire camp with a half a chance of wrangling the dumbass head medic himself. He continues to wiggle.
Wrapping a hand around his uninjured ankle, Nico drags him bodily back to his cot, ignoring the shrieking.
“One day on bedrest, you dipshit. One. Day. That is all anyone is asking if you.”
“My binder!” he insists, because he is difficult. “I don’t need to sit down and do nothing, I need to run my infirmary!”
“You need to sit the fuck down and heal your body before it schedules healing for you,” Nico snaps. “For fuck’s sake, Will, does it matter to you at all that other people would like to see you safe and healthy, even if you couldn’t give a shit?”
For a glorifying moment, Will stares at him, eyes wide, face frozen. Nico meets his gaze, glaring, his own chest heaving where Will appears to have held his breath.
Then, Will bursts out laughing.
“That!” he says, wheezing. “That is what I have been trying to nail through your thick skull! Karma, you little turd!”
Mouth opening, and closing again, it’s Nico’s turn to freeze.
“Oh, gods.”
The horror in his voice is tangible. Will laughs harder.
“Oh, gods, I’m becoming you.”
He stumbles to the closest cot, sitting down quickly before he gets any dizzier than he already is. Nausea builds up his throat.
Gods, that was a direct quote.
“Not so fuckin’ easy to wrangle you clumsy shitheads, is it!”
Nico cradles his head in agony. No. No! It can’t be! He refuses to lend any credibility to Will’s mother-henning! He is obnoxious, and overbearing, and hell-bent on restricting Nico’s freedom; there is no way Nico is emulating him right now, because that would mean he has a point when he’s bossing Nico around, and — no. Cannot be.
“I told you,” Will says, smug as a godsdamn rooster in a hen house. (Oh, gods, now his stupid cowboy idioms are ringing in his head? He needs to spend less time with Will. Better yet, he should take another dip in the Lethe — willingly, this time. Anything is better than this.) “You clumsy fucks are the sole reason I am going to die from stress-induced heart failure at twenty-two, and then I am going to resurrect myself as a ghost through sheer stubborn will alone to haunt each and every one of you for eternity.”
Nico chooses to focus on the part of the sentence that he can conveniently argue with. “You don’t get to call anyone a clumsy fuck, on account of you shattering three bones in your ankle because you stomped your foot too hard when you were trying to make a point.”
“What was the point I was trying to make, again?”
Nico keeps his mouth shut.
“Something something reanimating entire dragons to scare the shit out of Cecil is going to drain you to dangerous levels of energy and make me have to drag you from the brink of death yet again something something.” He pauses. “Even if it was really funny and he nearly actually pissed himself.”
“Well, whatever,” Nico says, elegantly changing the subject. “You’re an idiot, and if you don’t let yourself heal than you’re worse than the rest of us and can never lecture us ever again. So. And I’ll rat you out, too, they’ll believe me.”
Will glares at him. Nico glares back.
“Get some rest,” Nico orders, still glaring. Will pulls a face and repeats his words back to him, mockingly.
“There’s a difference between me and the rest of you idiots,” he grumbles, petulantly ripping loose the blankets and shoving himself under them. Nico smacks his hands away, tucking them around him for him, checking his pillow, and then his forehead for good measure, just in case his stupid ass somehow gave himself a fever. Will squirms, just to make things difficult, so Nico, as acting healer in the room, has to smack him. “I can feel my limits.”
“And yet you pirouette right on over them. I think that makes you worse, actually.”
Will, son of the god of truth, has nothing to say to that.
“Stupid,” Nico says, fondly, squeezing a gentle hand in his cheek. “Sleep, okay? You can go back to being dictator of the infirmary when you’re healed.”
“Tomorrow,” he insists.
Nico rolls his eyes, smiling, and pulls his hand away. Will darts out and snatches his wrist before he goes far, eyes pleading, and Nico caves immediately. Will’s skin is warm, and smooth.
“If you’re healed by then.”
He traces his thumb across Will’s freckled cheekbone, shivering slightly as his long eyelashes tickle the tip of his fingerprint.
“Mhm.”
He’s already puffing out small, quiet snores, head lolling against Nico’s hand, body exhausted from working overtime to try and heal.
Shaking his head, Nico ducks down, pressing a kiss to the space between his eyes before pulling away. He watches him for a moment, peaceful, face smooth and un-creased, delicate cupid’s bow pink and poised, skin spattered with paintbrush freckles. Heart skipping, he can’t resist another quick peck, lingering, at the top of his nose, the middle of his cheek; again at the dip of his brow. It furrows, briefly, under his touch, before relaxing again.
“Goodnight, Will.” He brushes a knuckle over his cheek. “Thank you, you dork ass.”
#i know will is a horrible horrible patient i know it in my bones#percy jackson and the olympians#pjo#heroes of olympus#hoo#pjo hoo toa#nico di angelo#will solace#nico di angelo & will solance#nico di angelo/will solace#solangelo#will/nico#nico/will#banter#pining nico di angelo#eh not really#like he has a crush but they’re taking it slow more than pining#100 ways to say i love you#100 ways#longpost#my writing#fic
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Part 2 of Osamu helping Atsumu asking you out 🥰❤️
Osamu should win an award for being the most patient man in Japan.
No wait.
For being the most patient man in the world right now.
The other day his brother ruined his chance of asking you out and now he is trying to help Atsumu win you over.
It’s almost been three whole weeks and Atsumu chickened out every time you would be nearby.
And each time Atsumu had a different excuse for his brother.
'I remembered that I had class duty'
'(Y/N) is in a bad mood'
'I forgot ta copy my homework off of Akari'
'I don’t look my best today'
'Uhh stomache'
'The stars are not in position for this today'
And Osamu had enough.
It’s gotten so bad, that Atsumu even dreamed about talking about you and since the blonde is right above the gray-haired twin in their shared bunk bed, Osamu needed to shove his pillow over his ears in order to get some sleep.
So the next morning, when Osamu packed his lunch for school with bags under his eyes, he sees Atsumu trotting down the stairs, still half asleep.
The Opposite Hitter watches as Atsumu munches on a piece of toast, getting crumbs all over the counter, pissing him off.
"Ya ready ta ask (Y/N) out today?" Osamu asks while closing his bento box, moving onto the next one to pack lunch for his brother as well, since Atsumu is incapable of making food for himself.
Next thing he knows, Atsumu is choking on the toast.
Osamu waits for him to calm down, staring blankly at his brother with his gray eyes.
Atsumu looks at his brother with an incredulous look on his face and he has tears in his eyes from all the coughing.
"What?!" The blonde sputters.
"It’s been three weeks, Tsumu. Get a move on before someone else does." Osamu explains as he packs lunch for his brother.
"But I-" Atsumu starts but Osamu pushes him against the closed fridge door with his forearm against his throat and finally snaps.
"Okay, listen here chickenshit. I’m fed up with yer whining. Yer goin' ta (Y/N) today, tell her how ya feel, kiss her an' lemme have some goddamn peace and quiet, ya hear me?!" The gray-haired twin has a raging fire in his eyes, not caring that he almost blocks off the blonde’s airway.
Atsumu nervously gulps and nods.
When lunch rolls around in school, Osamu almost drags Atsumu into the direction of your class room, when the twins see you standing near the open window, talking to Suna and Ginjima with your back turned towards Osamu and Atsumu.
As Osamu turns around to look at his twin, it’s like the Setter is frozen with fear.
"What are you waiting for? Go!" Osamu hisses at his twin nods his head into your direction as you’re continuing to talk to Ginjima and Suna.
"I can’t." Atsumu pales and takes a few steps back.
"Tsumu I swear ta the Gods, if yer not goin' ta ask (Y/N) out right now, I will ask her out!" Osamu growls, fed up with his brother being a scaredy cat.
"Ya wouldn’t dare." Atsumu growls right back at his twin.
"Depends on how this will go. Either ya ask her out, or ya will attend (Y/N)’s an' I’s wedding in the future." The Outside Hitter threats him.
"But yannow how much I love her! How could ya do this ta yer own flesh and blood!" Atsumu gets louder and the conversation is starting again to gain looks, including you as you look at them in confusion. Suna starts to smirk and gets his phone ready to record it.
Osamu feels the stares and gets behind Atsumu to push him forward.
"GO!"
"Fuckin' fine!" Atsumu hisses.
Nervously gulping down the big lump in his throat, Atsumu makes his way to you with shaky steps.
"(Y/N)? Can I talk ta ya for a second? Alone?" Once he reaches you, he finds his voice back, staring at Ginjima and Suna, hoping they get the hint and leave.
"Uhm…Sure. I’ll see you guys later." You bid farewell to the boys, telling Atsumu that you can talk in the empty classroom.
Ginjima looks very confused at Atsumu’s behavior but before he can question it, Osamu pushes his teammates into the direction of the cafeteria. Suna sighs and puts his phone away, following them to get some food for himself as well.
Back to you, you make your way to your assigned seat and sit on the table, due that your height is not the tallest, your feet barely touch the ground. As you face the nervous Setter, he closes the classroom door for some privacy.
Once he sees that you are sitting on your desk he makes his way over to you with slow steps, pausing to stand in front of you, leaning against the chair behind him a little bit.
"Listen (Y/N), 'm incredibly sorry for the way I was actin' the other day towards ya. I had a shit day an' didn’t mean ta let it out on ya." The Setter starts by apologizing to you first, face full of regret and sorrow.
"A shit day? Atsumu you told me that I 'should go and talk to my crush' instead. I just wanted to know if you were okay that day. You looked incredibly upset, like someone didn’t hit your sets right, causing your team to lose a game." You frown at him in disappointment and a little bit of anger.
''I-I know! It wasn't your fault, I promise! Well I mean it sorta was-" Atsumu rubs his neck, getting more and more keyed up.
"You're telling me I am responsible for YOUR asshole behaviour the other day?!"
This is outrageous!
"No no no! That came out wrong... What I meant was, that I was pissed more at myself cuz ya said ya have a crush already on someone else and it made me really mad…" The blonde looks like a kicked puppy and his cheeks are starting to redden a bit.
"Why would me having a crush on someone be something you’d get mad about?" Being absolutely flabbergasted, you don’t understand his reaction at all.
Unless…
It's like a sudden flash of realisation hits you.
OH. That's why he was so upset.
"So you got mad because you like me?" You try to tease him but it seems that it’s making Atsumu even more nervous.
"No! Wait- I mean yeah! Yer puttin' me under pressure!" He starts to get louder and in return, you get louder as well.
"It's either yes or a no Atsumu. Do you like me or not?? I am getting mixed signals here!"
"Yer yellin' is makin' me nervous!" His face starts to get red and you don’t know whether it’s embarrassment, fury, annoyance or something else, you can’t exactly pinpoint it.
"Atsumu, for once in your life, just restart that brain of yours and use it for something useful!" You start to get frustrated with his logic.
"Like what?!" He yells right back at you, getting frustrated with women's logic.
You get down from your desk, with your fists reaching for the collar of his school uniform shirt, pulling him to slam his lips against yours.
The sudden gesture causes the blonde Setter's brain to malfunction, causing an error in his nervous system, eyes staying wide open.
Once you're realizing what you are doing, you snap out of it, not knowing what suddenly came over you. Atsumu was blabbering nonsense and it seemed like the only logical thing to do was kiss the second-year.
When you pull back from the kiss, it's like Atsumu is in a daze. A confused, yet happy one.
"Oh.My.God. Atsumu, I-I don't know what came over me! Let's pretend this never happened! This was a mistake. I can scratch out the idea of having a chance with you-" You ramble on, starting to get into a panicked state that finally snaps the Setter out of his daze.
"Whatcha say?" His eyes full of hope.
Confused by his reaction, you’d expected him to be mad or upset but he seems… happy that you kissed him?
"That this was a mistake?"
He pouts at that.
"No, ya said ya didn’t have a chance with me. So yer sayin' ya like me?" His amber eyes shine with exuberance, looking like he is thrilled to bits.
"I-I… well… yes I do." You mumble the last part so quietly, that Atsumu barely hears it but hearing those words coming out of your mouth is music to his ears.
He dare even say it’s better than a no-touch-ace.
Before you can react, Atsumu quickly places his rough hands on your cheeks, pulling you into another kiss, this time more frenzy than gentle.
You don't know how to react but it's almost like a natural instinct to just kiss him back with as much passion that he puts into it.
Tilting his head to the side, he deepens the kiss, the tip of his tongue running along your lower lip and you immediately grant him access.
The Setter's moan is lost in your mouth as soon as his wet tongue caresses yours and his hands wander down to your waist, pulling himself closer to you, feeling the heat of his body against yours is very comforting and in return, you wrap your arms around his neck.
Carding your fingers through his soft bleached hair, you start to get lost in the lust that Atsumu is providing.
All of sudden, the moment gets interrupted.
"Hey (Y/N)? Have you seen- OH MY GOD I AM SO SORRY!" Kosaku barges in, immediately stopping at the sight of you and Atsumu kissing passionately.
You screech in surprise, while Atsumu just turns his head to see where the noise came from.
Yet, while you’re utterly embarrassed, Atsumu doesn’t let go of his hold on your waist, looking more annoyed that the two of you were interrupted.
"Ya mind? We’re kinda busy." The Setter says in an aggravated voice.
"Tsumu, shush." You gently push him off of you and hit his arm. He flinches at the violence of you, yet he thinks it’s the cutest thing when you are mad.
"N-No I uh… I was looking for Osamu and Suna, K-Kita wanted a word with them a-about their failed History exam." Kosaku stutters in high embarrassment.
"I think they went to the cafeteria. Send them my deepest condolences because of Kita's upcoming scolding lesson." You give him a small smile while still having a face as red as a tomato.
"T-Thanks (Y/N) will do... I’ll let you get back to it." Kosaku blushes deeply and closes the door on his way out.
"Urgh… this was so embarrassing." You let your heated face drop into the blonde’s chest and it moves with his laughing before he carefully grabs your chin and lifts your face up, making you look directly into his amber hues.
"So… does that mean ya forgive me?" The blonde rubs the tip of his nose against yours, chestnut-brown eyes staring down into yours with love and affection.
"Only if you buy me Dorayaki from the store." You grin at him, which he returns with one of his own before kissing you gently one more time.
"Deal." He whispers against your soft lips.
"So… you admit you were jealous? Riseki out of all people? A first year?" You tease him, as the two of you walk to the 7-Eleven that’s close to the school. Atsumu promised to take you to a proper date, once he gets his allowance again next month.
"I WAS NOT!" Atsumu lies in shame.
His response made you giggle and the Setter can’t help but smile at your reaction, causing him to fall in love with you even deeper, as he pulls you into his side, kissing your temple lovingly.
#haikyuu!!#haikyuu#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu!! x reader#haikyū!!#hq x reader#hq fluff#inarizaki#atsumu miya#atsumu miya x reader#osamu miya#haikyuu miya atsumu#atsumu#atsumu x reader#haikyuu atsumu#hq atsumu#miya atsumu#miya osamu#suna rintarō#miya twins#suna rintarou#haikyu x reader#atsumu fluff#atsumu x you
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Why You Mustn’t Resonate with Other Elements: Exhibit A
You resonate with elements other than Geo and Zhongli is…not too happy about that.
★彡Majorly fluff but heavily implied spice at the end
Zhongli takes pride in the fact that his lover is a traveler. Not just any ordinary traveler, but one who can traverse the many terrains of Teyvat with immense skill and poise. He often enjoys accompanying you on these adventures, and on times he cannot, he eagerly awaits your return, each smile of yours bringing along with it some fabulous treasures that generally cannot be fathomed by regular adventure-seekers.
Above all, though, he holds in high regard the fact that you can seamlessly transition between elements depending on the Statue of the Seven you resonate with, even without a Vision - of course, you’ve been a Geo user ever since marrying Zhongli and settling down with him. At this point, the golden element is practically a part of you, just as your heart and soul is.
This evening, his heart is filled to the brim with love and anticipation, as today is the day you return from a desert expedition in the far western reaches of Sumeru. Normally a patient man, he finds himself ever so slightly giddy with excitement, chancing a look outside the window every minute as the day creeps toward evening. Finally, he sees you, and without a moment’s hesitation he goes outside to give you an affectionate welcome. Beaming, he holds his arms out to you, ready to embrace you as you inevitably barrel into him as your form of hello, when his smile falters just the tiniest smidge.
The gilded sheen that used to adorn your clothing is now a bright green.
You’ve resonated with Dendro.
*****
Obviously, Zhongli doesn’t bring it up right when he welcomes you back. No, he waits until later that night, after you’ve finished telling him stories of the trials, friendships and betrayals you’ve faced, coming out unscathed as usual. He is patient, so he only brings it up after dinner, casually, nonchalantly.
“So, you’ve never told me about the drastic change in yourself in your letters to me,” he starts, watching you from where he stands as you sit on the couch cuddling a cushion.
Tilting your head, you answer, “Is it my hair? Has it gotten a little longer? Maybe I should cut it.”
With a sigh only he can hear, he strides forward and takes your chin gently. “I want to know why you have changed your element.”
You blink. “Oh! Well, I had to deal with some ancient Dendro totems that needed rejuvenating, hehe.” You smile up at him, but he’s still frowning slightly.
“That is all well and good, dearest, but when dealing with other elements, you generally like to switch back to Geo when all is done, yes?”
“Well...” You shrug. “I like Dendro. I think I’ll stick to it!”
A small huff escapes Zhongli’s lips. “Why not Geo?”
You giggle. “Zhongli, are you jealous?”
“I am not.”
“You are!”
“I am most decidedly not.” He turns away from you, the tiniest blush blossoming on his face.
You snicker, getting off the couch and hugging him from behind. “To think Rex Lapis would be jealous...my, I’m really flattered!”
“Hm.”
“This is the best reaction I’ve ever seen in my life! I knew resonating with Dendro was the right idea! You’re such a cutie, Zhong!”
A pause, followed by another sigh. “So, you got what you wanted. I take it you will change back to Geo now?”
You smile and peck his cheek, dancing over to his front view. “No, I don’t think I will.”
Now that you’re standing in front of him, you get a good view of his gleaming amber eyes, swirling with a kind of tempered desire only Zhongli himself would be able to rein in.
And rein he doesn’t, for the very next moment he’s holding you in his arms, a passionate kiss sealing your lips. Your eyes at first widen with surprise, but then flutter closed as you melt into his addictive touch, wrapping your arms around his neck as he pulls you closer.
“Zhong-ah!” He bites your lower lip and pushes his tongue into your mouth, ravenously questing for that which he desires. As he does so, he pushes you against the wall, caging you in. Your heart pounds with love and lust, giving yourself to his own burning feelings.
But when he pulls away finally, it is evident he’s nowhere near done. As you catch your breath, he bites your neck, his hand roaming down your side and settling at the curve of your hip, squeezing ever so lightly. “It seems I need to give you a reminder.”
“H-huh?” Your mind is a blur of bliss, every bite and kiss of his pulling you deeper into the haze. It is only when his hand glows a bright gold that you are brought back to the surface, albeit only temporarily as you gauge the look on your lover’s face.
Zhongli’s eyes, normally a mellow amber, are now carnally golden, a promise - no, a contract - of what’s to come.
“The versatility of Geo lies in its ability to create the most beautiful constructs.” Saying this, he conjures up…a pair of jade handcuffs, glimmering innocuously in the dusk light. You stare at it, dumbstruck. He quirks an eyebrow, amused by your reaction as he kisses you once more. “Allow me to remind you of this, properly and thoroughly.”
#genshin impact#zhongli#zhongli x reader#genshin#genshin x reader#sini writes#zhongli x you#fluff#traveler
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Cupid yandere idea muahahahah and yes I did name him Eros because I could not let that perfect chance get away
Description: Cupid yandere, obsessive/possessive controlling themes in the yandere, gen neutral reader, just an introduction basically but I’m like so excited to write about him he’s so cute am I really fangirling over my own oc LMAOO
You walked in the empty park that was located near the restaurant you had just left. Another failed date… great. This was probably the 6th date you’ve been on that has gone nowhere. It can’t be you that’s wrong, right? You were normal and used polite manners and even got comfortable with your dates but not a single one contacted you afterwards.
You sat down on the wooden bench and rubbed your hands trying to get warmer. It was freezing for a sunny day, but now it’s cold and cloudy. The weather coincidentally matched your mood, gloomy and sad. You kept wondering what could’ve made the potential suitors run off without a text.
Were you cursed? Was something stopping you from being in love? Maybe some evil force that hated you.
“If there’s a god out there that’s controlling my love life!” You loudly said as if that god could hear your frustrated words.
“I fucking hate you!” You yelled higher in volume.
Of course, nobody answered your words laced with annoyance and loneliness. Nobody was nearby to hear them either so luckily you didn’t look like a total weirdo. You sighed taking your phone out of your back pocket and began scrolling through it. Blissfully unaware of the godly presence in front of you.
“Do they actually hate me?” Eros whimpered quietly, fiddling with his fingers while he stared you down. His wings drooped down, matching his sad mood from his human saying they hate him. His halo even dimmed, which was rare for a Cupid!
“Those people just didn’t seem right for you! All of them were weirdos and didn’t deserve your love!” He sighed looking straight at you, wondering if he should break rules and reveal himself. He knew you couldn’t hear his words but he still expressed them.
“I’ll find you someone soon enough, just be patient my love” He sat next to the empty spot that you left open. It was almost like you knew he was there and gave him that spot. Or he was just being delusional again
“Maybe if I just continue trying it’ll work, maybe they just found someone else. Yeah, thats probably why!” You murmured to yourself trying to save your faltering ego from the failed dates. You tried convincing yourself it was just a sign they weren’t the one and that’s why.
“Noo! Just stop going on that stupid app, just wait for me to bring you the right person!” He let out a groan, very disappointed in his human for being so stupidly insistent on something that would not work in the end. How many times would he have to shove suitors away from you?
Maybe he should delete the app off your phone while you slept tonight, or get you banned somehow so you could never create an account on the app ever.
“Maybe Cupid hates me, am I gonna have to chase his fucking arrows or something?” Your phone clicked shut and you slid it in your back pocket.
“I love you! I don’t hate you! I’ll shoot you with one of my arrows when I know they’re the one for you. His hands waved in a panic that you even suggested that he hates you. He loves you with all his heart and more! It was likely that he was the only cupid with such a strong obsession with their human.
All cupids had their designated human to guide throughout life, dealing with their love life and general pursuits of happiness. Cupids would begin interfering with their humans when they became the ripe age for love and then cared for them until they passed.
You were at that age where you wanted to find someone or something to distract you from your busy work life and it was stressing your Cupid out more than you!
You looked out seeing how the sun was setting and decided to start walking home. You didn’t want to be out so late, you had to go and eat dinner since that date of yours hardly lasted to even eat food.
You weren’t going to get over the fact you had so many failed attempts, it bruised your ego so bad.
Eros could see your hurt face and his heart ached to give you some relief, but how would he? He didn’t want you to get a partner! He wanted to be selfish and guide you to be his mate. His designated lover that stays with him forever. Wouldn’t you love that?
Once you got home you kicked your shoes off and groggily walked towards your kitchen. You rummaged through cabinets to try and find something to eat.
He was biting his lip, trying to gather his thoughts about whether to show himself or not. Would you allow him to talk? Or would you call the police and say that a guy with wings and a halo was in your kitchen telling you he was your Cupid. Eros decided he would do it! Who cares? He would just explain the whole thing.
You heard a soft sound of wings fluttering and a gust of wind hit you. You shivered thinking a window was open and quickly turned around to go shut it. Instead of seeing that open window, you saw a breath-taking man stand in the middle of your kitchen.
His wings flapped nervously under your stare and he instinctively fiddled with his fingers trying to muster up the courage to speak in-front of the human that he’s always obessed over. He couldn’t speak, his throat caught all the words he thought of saying.
You observed the tall man that nervously stood, saying nothing. He was very attractive and his brown hair was neatly groomed. There was a golden yellow halo that rested in the air above his head.
He had hazel eyes that were fixated on you. They looked entranced by you but that didn’t distract you from what was connected to his back. He had large white feathery wings that were soft and bright. His wings hinted that they would flicker when he was nervous.
“What the hell” You shortly said after a long silence.
“H-hello! My name is Eros, I’m your designated Cupid.” He stopped fiddling with his fingers and inhaled to try and receive confidence to speak with this silly little human that he was infatuated with.
“Get the fuck out of my house!” You finally came to your senses and started to scramble away and threw anything that was on the counter which was a glass mug that he dodged. Glass was shattered as he caught it and put it on your kitchen table.
“Hey! Hey! Calm down human” He put both of his hands up noticing how scared you were. You looked like a poor frightened feral cat!
“Get out!!!” You threw more little things at him and he quickly noticed you were not calmed by his words. Despite your greatest efforts he caught up to you and grabbed the thing that was next in line to hit him.
“Calm down my little human, let me explain everything” Eros managed to pin you against your kitchen wall and you squirmed under his strong grasp. After getting the obvious fact that he was stronger, you stopped fighting back.
“Alright” You blew your hair out of your face and sighed finally deciding to listen to his words.
“I am your Cupid! Every human gets their own Cupid that decides things for their humans well-being. My name is Eros and I’ve noticed you’ve been a little frustrated about your love life so I came to help you personally!” His wings folded and rested on his back while he kept his now less tight grip against your wrists that were still pinned against the cabinet.
You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed and hot under his close proximity. The both of you were sat on the floor after he confined you with his body. He was almost pressed against you and your face was completely red.
You nodded along his words trying to compose yourself, which was hard against a beauty that was so close to you. You honestly hated the fact his face made your stomach feel strange. Your stomach walls clenched around nothing and it felt empty.
“So! Are you good now, my love?” He brought his hand up to your face and twirled a strand of your hair. He loved how soft it felt, he wondered if you’d let him continue.
“Yeah…” You murmured, still embarrassed that he was so close.
“Good! Let’s start talking about everything!” Eros excitedly stopped pinning you and helped you up rather easily as if you were a plush doll with no weight. His wings flicked in happiness that you were now cooperating.
The two of you went to your living room and he was eager to start talking about your love life. He was sat close and acted as if you were his lover! You could feel his wings wrap around you as they brought you closer to him.
“Is this what you do with all your clients?” You tried laughing your nervousness off. You were sat in-front of him and both of you sat with your legs crossed, facing each other.
“You’re my only client right now! And no, with the other ones I’ve had, I don’t treat them the way I do with you!” He grinned. “It’s a good thing though! You’re special to me!”
“So.. are you the reason all my dates have failed? I’ve been really frustrated about it and I didn’t realize someone was behind it” You looked up at Eros instead of looking at your hands.
“Yeah! And I’m sorry about it, I know it might seem mean but it’s because I believed it was in your best interest that you didn’t continue your interactions with them. All your date’s cupids also agreed!” Eros was lying straight through his teeth. He knew none of the Cupids that he interacted with agreed, but he still managed to convince them that there was another person for their clients.
He wanted you to himself! Why couldn’t a Cupid have a human lover of their own? He knew it wasn’t ideal for a Cupid to be with a client of theirs but who cares? Love is love and if a Cupid wanted to be with a human then it should be allowed!
You noticed a certain glint in your Cupids eyes, he looked lost in thought about something. He likely didn’t hear what you said. You tapped his knee trying to get his attention and his pretty white wings puffed up in a flustered manner.
“Sorry! I was lost in thought. What did you say?” He was now attentively looking at you. His hazel eyes wouldn’t leave your eyes for a moment with his mind refocused on you.
“It’s okay, i was just asking if you could tell me about my future love life? Or is that against like Cupid rules or something?” You were curious about the Cupid who could basically do anything to your future.
“Hmm, I think.. I should leave it as a surprise. I don’t want to spoil the present for you!” Eros couldn’t help but giggle happily.
“Okay, if you think it’s a good thing then I don’t mind not knowing” You smiled.
“Trust me! It’s the best surprise you could ever even dream about” He got giddy thinking about it. Obviously, you were not aware of the prize. But the prize was him! Your Cupid was going to be your lover forever and ever!
“Thanks for taking care of my love life and stuff, I know it’s like your job but I appreciate it” You tried to not mumble your words together but it was a little embarrassing to thank a stranger who’s been in control of your life since likely birth.
“No problem! I love you so much! I’ll always take care of you and your well-being” Eros leaned towards you and hugged you. You felt his body fit yours like a very intricate puzzle that was solved. His wings embraced you, wrapped around your back. You felt his soft wings against the thin fabric you wore and his body shared its warmth in the hug he gave with yours.
A very tight warm hug. A hug that likely sealed your fate of being stuck in an endless loop with this Cupid that would likely never go away! Eros was so happy you had accepted it! Now you’d be mates, and love each other for all of eternity.
#yandere#yandere x you#yandere x y/n#gn reader#male yandere#pls request#yandere imagines#yandere scenarios#gender neutral reader#gender neutral terms#cupid#obsession#manipulation#possessiveness#cupid oc#yandere cupid#soft yandere#erosmyoc
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I got home from work today sneezing my head off with a right eye that won’t stop watering, took a hot shower, climbed into bed, and I haven’t climbed out since. I’m grumpy and I have a headache and if I’m not testing positive for COVID or debilitated by symptoms tomorrow I’ll still need to go to work because that’s twenty patient visits that would need to be rescheduled, usually with someone else, and that’s twenty people I’m letting down. Today I did one of my patented 45-second Pap smears (if it takes longer than that, your doctor needs to get better!) for someone with vaginal atrophy from menopause (it is both very common and very treatable) and she was in disbelief. (This time it was more like 30 seconds.) I saw a suicidally depressed patient who’s clinging to life with both hands and I changed their meds last week and I am not making them wait to see me. I cleaned a wound no one else gave a shit about and I saw a bitter pissy Republican Party bigwig who has terrible anxiety and depression she doesn’t tell anyone about, who’s alienated everyone but who I can still convince to try treatment.
I do my job on hard mode on purpose. I like being important—who doesn’t? I like being legendary, I like that when people move to town and ask for doctor recommendations on Facebook so many people mention me that other patients feel compelled to tell me about it. I got nominated for best doctor in our local region last year. (I didn’t win, out of 5 nominees.) But when I’m sick, when I’m the kind of sick that can be hidden easily, the kind of sick I was always expected to go to school and rotations and residency with, it’s so hard. I hate exposing patients, even to a cold, but the benefits of receiving care are probably enough to outweigh the chance of transmission. I wrestle with myself: if I call in, it starts a ripple effect. Can they get a per diem from their “pool” (of three) to come in? Can they reschedule my patients with me? I don’t have any open spots for five weeks. Can they open same days? None available for three weeks. Can they open blocked spots? That’s going to make my life hell when I come back from being sick. That’s clinic staff calling twenty patients, trying to reach them. That’s twenty patients who feel abandoned. They can know intellectually that doctors get sick too, but they don’t believe it. They take it personally. I have seen this over and over again, until I had to believe it.
It is so EASY for people who don’t do this job to tell me how I’m doing it wrong. “Just stay home!” Oh, okay, you want to tell the person whose chronic opioids I’m supposed to write for that I can’t? You want to put the nurses through getting the on-call to write a bridge prescription? I write more ADHD meds than most of my peers—usually a lot more. You want to tell my colleagues to write meds they’re uncomfortable with? How about tell my suicidal patients (which is a lot of them!) that the provider they know and trust after months or years will be replaced today by a 70-year-old white man who still thinks they should pull themselves up by their bootstraps? Tell my queer patients that they have to wait until I’m better and back to get their hormones and their STI screenings, reschedule a Pap someone was dreading. Every day is a kaleidoscope of opportunities to make a real connection with “difficult” patients. I’m good at it. I may be the best at it at my clinic.
I don’t hate calling in sick just because the clinic manager is a judgy bitch, though that doesn’t help. I hate it because of what it does to my patients. And it’s not simple. Pretending it is does all of us a disservice. I am not a widget. I am not easily replaceable. You can’t plug any of our per diems (all men, 2/3 white, 2/3 old, 1/3 a Bitcoin bro) into my place and call it an equivalent, and my schedule is already so packed that if I call in sick, patients will be guilt-tripping me about it for months. I’m not kidding. That happens every single time.
Christ alive, I wish it was true that doctors never got sick.
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Did the loneliness die that night?
A Fear of God story : Series Masterlist
Pairing: Joel Miller x OFC
Summary: Birdie and Joel's first time.
Content Warnings: Unprotected sex; Creampie; Rough sex; Oral sex; Angst; Hurt/Comfort; Descriptions of medical procedures; Size difference; Size kink; Mutual pining; Emotionally constipated idiots
A/N: Title is from Pablo Neruda's Love Sonnet XVII
Rating: Explicit 18+
Word Count: 7.3K
Read on AO3
“You should head home now, honey. No point staying so late. I think we’re done for today.”
“I will, Connie – soon. Just gonna read for a bit.” He pauses the tidying up of his papers to turn and look at you with those milky, discerning eyes of his. He’s been complaining recently that his vision is getting worse – his eyes tired and weak earlier and earlier in the day. You know he’s getting ready to call it quits soon, leave you with the gargantuan responsibility of running the clinic and caring for the people of Jackson all on your own. Your mentor, your friend, your champion – ready to ditch you.
You don’t think you’re ready. You don’t think you’ll ever be ready. You also know it’s not fair to categorize it as that. He’s tired. He deserves to rest.
You also don’t think he’s going to give you much of a choice in the matter pretty soon.
“You felt alright today?” He likes to check in on your confidence levels every now and then, knows you like to second guess yourself behind his back.
“Yeah… good. The surgery went well – I thought.”
“Yes, you were excellent. I have no doubt that our patient will recover beautifully.” He winks at you, slips his coat over his frail shoulders. You let a small smile unfold across your face, excellent, yeah, okay. If you could count on anything it was Connie as your number one hype man.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, my dear. I might be in a little later in the afternoon,” he warns, and you roll your eyes into your book where he can’t catch you.
“Sure thing.”
You sort of lose track of time into the night. Mainly because a large part of you is loath to go back to your quiet and lonely house.
Sometimes it feels a little as if you’d spat out your heart in the woods where your sister was killed before you found Jackson, pieces of your memories. And this continuation of whatever it is that you’re doing now, building a life, living, going on, fucking bullshit, is a play act you’re putting on for yourself, for the people you take care of now, Connie who counts on you and relies on you and has been planting the seeds of his future and that of his patients in the soil of your mind. Too many responsibilities for a half girl living a half life.
What was in that framework of a carved out house, that carcass of that fake life you pretend at when the sun’s high in the sky? Archeological remnants of a person you aren’t anymore, bones of a girl that, in too many ways, had died out there with her sister.
Too morose. Too morose. Unnecessarily dramatic.
You have a good thing here, this you know. A second chance, a place to do good. Those things are important. But what else? Nothing but stagnation and the waiting shoes of a great man who expects the world of you, and who you’re more afraid of than anything that you’ll be able to do nothing more than disappoint. Connie expects much from you. His past repeated in bright, shining colors in a world gone to rot. An impossible feat. How to make the most intelligent, most amazing person you’ve ever known, that expects the world of you, understand that all you have to give is little more than nothing?
But besides all that? Besides the crushing weight of expectation and inevitable failure and the certainty that you’ll never be able to be good enough for a world categorized in the before – what else is there for you here?
You stare blindly out the warped glass pane of the window. The house the clinic’s been accommodated to is old. Old, sturdy bones. Reliable. Like the house could weather any sort of storm. Remain standing and provide refuge to any of those who’d seek shelter here. This is what you need to make yourself into.
But what else is there for you besides this?
The question rings screaming in your mind. That terribly fraught, agonizingly selfish, humiliatingly ungrateful thought – when yes, you already have so much, but wait, there’s still something, something missing – that whispers that you still want one more thing, something else to fill that hollow ache inside of you.
You wish someone would just tell you – set the answer before you, feed it to you by hand. Tell me, tell me how to fill the ache, and I’ll do it. You’ve always been good at following orders, doing what you’re told. You like to be told. You like the comfort and security of it.
And then the bell above the front door chimes – it’s late – and there he is, stepping through your office door.
“Joel–”
“Went by your house – what’re you still doin’ here? It’s late.” Sometimes it’s like he can read minds. Strange, mercurial wonder of a man.
You take him in. “Your hand–”
He lifts up his bloody palm, dried rivulets of rust snake up his forearm and down his fingers. “Yeah… got caught on an old nail.” He shakes his head, looks back at you with a grumpy frown, “It’s late, sweetheart. You should be home.”
“I got distracted reading,” you say offhandedly, already up and moving around to collect the supplies you’ll need to patch him up. He really focuses on the most inconsequential details at the most inopportune times. “Come here–” you start dragging a chair over from Connie’s desk towards your own, a murmured, let me, from him, trying to pull the thing from your grasp. You shoo him away, “Sit,” you order, settling the chair in front of your own and pulling your desk lamp to the edge. Stubborn man.
He falls heavily into the chair, an exhausted sigh following in his wake. “Always getting yourself into messes you shouldn’t be,” you say with a small smile, shaking your head at him. He only grunts.
“You alright?” he asks gently.
“Yep, I’m okay. You too? Well…besides this.”
“Yeah, I’m alright, sweetheart.” You can’t stand it when he calls you sweetheart, it makes you all soft and desperate and wet. He’s quiet for a beat, and then, as if he can’t help himself, he asks, “Seen Ellie recently?” She doesn’t speak to him, and you don’t know why or what the extent of their relationship is, but you know something isn’t right, that there’s history, and that it hurts him. You know he worries for her because he always asks how she’s doing since you and she had become friends.
“She came in this afternoon – she’s good,” you say quickly, seeing him sit up slightly at hearing she’d been in the clinic, “She just dropped by to say hi… she’s fine, don’t worry.”
He settles back in the chair. “Ain’t worryin’” he grumbles, another grumpy frown. He’s quiet for another long moment while he watches you set your needle in your forcep, gather the antibacterial to sterilize the wound. “Nancy in?”
The old nurse who helped you and Connie out with the clinic and lived upstairs was a true wild child at heart. “She’s out with her girlfriend.”
“It’s almost midnight… isn’t she like seventy?”
“Seventy-four, but she has a young spirit, and love has no age,” you give him a pointed look.
“Jesus,” he sighs. You grip the thick bones of his wrist in a firm grasp, drag the tips of your fingers over his palm, down the lengths of his fingers so that he’ll uncurl them. You think you hear what might be the resonance of something deep and rumbling coming from his chest that has your insides going hot and wet and soft. You want to tell him to not make sounds like that when you’re trying to focus, but you hold your tongue and begin to clean out the gash in slow, methodical strokes.
He tilts his head back when you start to drag the needle through his skin with a murmured, here goes. His neck is so thick, strong, the muscles and tendons popping starkly with his exhale, and okay, focus, focus, it’s time to focus now. You start to close the wide gash in his palm with a neat percutaneous closure, a simple interrupted suture with your safely guarded and jealously hoarded Vicryl – Connie has a contact that re-supplies you every few months.
“Your hands are cold.”
You pause your sewing to peek up at him. “Sorry.”
A shake of his head, “Should get the heat workin’ better in here.”
“It’s fine,” the drag of the suture through his flesh.
“S’not if you’re cold.”
“I’m fine, Joel.” He hums a displeased sound.
You can feel his gaze searing into the skin of your face. Your cheeks are burning hot, the backs of your knees sweating. You hate it when he looks at you like this, have caught him several times, more and more frequently, and it fills you with a belly full of fizz and nerves, head dizzy and light. You’re certain that if he were to keep his eyes on you long enough you might get so lightheaded you’d do something really dramatic like faint or throw yourself at him and tell him he’s the hottest man you’ve ever seen in your entire life.
“Got the longest lashes I’ve ever seen,” he says after a beat, so softly, and you feel your blush burn fever bright and self-respect-meltingly hot. A spearing twist of embarrassment and lust and the deepest sort of yearning you’ve ever experienced in your life boils through you so intensely that you even feel your eyes smart at his words. A tick starts up in your left eyelid from how nervous he makes you. All your anxiety and adrenaline being channeled to that one tiny, singular nerve to keep your hands steady while you sew his skin closed.
“Th– thank you,” you stutter, stupid, you should say something more, something better. What you’d really like to tell him is that he’s beautiful – rough and rugged and beautiful and that you see it, despite how hard he tries to hide it behind his eternal frown. You see him. He hums, and you register the tilt of his head out of your periphery as he settles in to inspect you. You’ve got both your knees tucked between his parted thighs, and as he settles in his chair deeper, he spreads them even wider, pushing his hips forward to slouch low, and fuck, you know you shouldn’t be looking, but you can even make out the thick weight of his cock beneath his jeans. So inappropriate, you chastise yourself, you’re the man’s physician, you’re tending to his wounds, he’s come to you in a vulnerable state, you shouldn’t be ogling and objectifying him. But on the back end of that thought is the whisper that there is absolutely fuck all about this man that is even the slightest bit vulnerable. For Christ’s sake, just look at him, so fucking thick and broad and strong and handsome, with the cockiest air of slight menace you’ve ever come across. You think that there is very little that could make a creature such as this vulnerable. You press your thighs together, pressing one foot on top of the other to squeeze yourself as small and tight as you can, cunt a twisting, wet ache.
You’d wanted him from the first moment you’d laid eyes on him. It had been something almost intrinsic, instinctual. You’d seen him and all your brain and your body had been able to scream at you was that one, that one, we want that one. So perhaps you do have an answer for that screaming question that wants for more. Sometimes it feels like the two of you have been circling each other like blood in the water all this time. Like you both know, even if you can’t admit it just yet, that it’s just a matter of time until this strange, tense dance the two of you’ve been caught in comes to a head; cracks and splinters like a fault line and swallows you whole.
“When was the last time you had a tetanus shot?”
“Twenty years ago.”
You roll your eyes. “We’ll get you one of those then.”
A soft, uncaring grunt. “What were ya readin’?” Really, the most inconsequential things…
“Boring stuff.”
“Tell me.”
You pause again to look up at him, his gaze entirely sincere and demanding. “Foye’s Principles of Medicinal Chemistry, it’s the two thousand and two edition. Last one that came out before…” you shrug, “It’s a text Connie values highly. I’ve probably read it a dozen times front to back at this point,” you laugh as you work slowly. One of the things you admire most about the way Connie practices medicine is how precise and methodical he is in all his movements and decisions. He works with intention and care and a measuredness that’s something you’ve tried very hard to emulate as best as you can.
“Hell, sweetheart… you do really’ve got a mind that amazes me.” And his voice is so soft, so contemplative as he says it. As if he too possesses that great depth of ability to be as methodical and patient and precise as you’d like to be. The cadence of him is so profound, almost vibrational, as if the words are carried on a frequency that only he exists on. You pause your sewing once again to glance up at him, and the way he’s looking at you… distracting. You are a weak girl, never one for much bravery or outlandishness, content to always follow the path laid out before you by other more exacting hands, but the way he looks at you, the fire in that gaze, you feel like you could do anything, be anything, and he’d take it in stride, be able to handle it. His gaze makes you want to be brave and reckless.
You turn your eyes back to his hand, almost done now. “Ah, well… not so amazing, I don’t think. I was always just well suited to books and studying, and in a world like this… wasn’t so useful, I suppose. My father wanted me to do this, he was a physician – a real one–”
He cuts you off, “Hey, you’re a real doctor too. Don’t diminish what you do here, it’s fuckin’ amazing.” He knocks his knee into yours.
“Don’t jostle me, or I’ll stick you,” you scrunch your nose at him.
-
You’re fucking flirting with him, provoking him, that little scrunch of your nose that always makes him feel like he’s two paces away from death, the lilt of your words ending in an upwards flutter like you’re singing at him, beguiling him. He feels utterly beguiled in this moment. He wasn’t lying when he’d said you’ve got the longest lashes he’s ever seen in his whole life. Long and thick and fanned out so that they cast shadows across the planes of your skin. You look like you’ve got the softest skin ever spun together, weaved on a loom just to come here and bring him to heel, and he wants to taste you so fucking badly, to sink his teeth into the back of your neck like prey and force you to your knees – utterly deranged thoughts that you seem to force out of him with those eyes and those lips and that voice. Your hair is long and shinning and he can smell you, sweet and soft like the evening after a summer rain. It makes him hard.
The first time he’d laid eyes on you, he’d been shocked into stillness, speechlessness, thoughtlessness. So pretty and soft and then when he’d spoken to you, your mind, you’re so fucking smart, the sound of your voice, the pure, utter goodness you constantly exude. He wants to be let inside. He wants to be allowed to feel all that goodness and sweetness from the inside out.
He’d forced himself to turn away from you then, to run the other way like a goddamn coward with his hair on fire. That was how much his initial reaction to you had scared the living hell out of him.
He watches you work slowly now, that plush lip pulled between the edges of your teeth. The feel of the needle sliding through his skin is almost erotic, and he knows that he’ll remember this only as a gift afterwards. The slight sting of the laceration secondary to the blissful agony it is to have your hands on his skin. He wants to kiss you. He wonders if you’d let him. He wants to own you, even if for a moment, to feel like you belong to him, like you’re his. To hold something as beautiful and good as you in his hands. You should be in his arms right now, impaled on his cock. Christ, he can feel himself thickening in his jeans. He feels even hungrier now than before he got here. Seeking you out, going to your house to ask you for help even though he knew he shouldn’t. He’s been so clumsy lately, uncharacteristically so. He wonders if it hasn’t been his subconscious’s way of getting him into situations where he’d need mending, just as an excuse to get himself close to you. He thinks this must surely be the case, entirely transparent and desperate and pathetic.
You finish the sutures in his palm, and he can’t even feel the hurt at this point, so hypnotized is he by the look of you deep in concentration, trying to mend him. You obviously can’t see that there’s no mending a man like him – not in any real way. But there’s a tiny voice at the back of his mind that whispers that if anyone could, it’d be you.
You tie off the line of stitches in a tiny little square knot, and reach for a roll of Curlex to wrap his hand in. You’re so small compared to his brutish size, your knees tucked between his spread legs. You’re not wearing shoes, just some thick knit socks pulled over your feet, slouchy and scrunched around your ankles. The size of your thigh compared to his has his mouth going dry. Delicate and built so finely – like a little bird. He wonders if your bones might be hollow like a sparrow’s too, if you’d fly away from him if he dared touch you, and at that thought, that dazed thought, he can’t help himself. He is a weak man, after all, when faced with something so fine, and as you wrap his hand in the bandage he sets two of his fingers over the curve of your knee, rests them there. You jolt slightly, and he stares, hypnotized, at the point of contact. He feels you pause your wrapping for one second, the burn of your gaze on his face, and then you resume your work. No comment, no admonishment. No… he doesn’t think you’d let anything distract you from your work, from what you’ve set your mind to. You seem like the type of person who once your mind has been fixed on something, you see it through to the end, no matter what. He admires that about you.
You reach for a vial of something, a syringe, a softly murmured, undo your shirt, but Joel is shocked frozen. His eyes glued to the place where he’s making contact with you. He hears the soft exhalation of your breath through your nostrils, and then you’re reaching forward to undo the top few buttons of his shirt. He looks up at you then, eyes focused on your task, brow scrunched, you drag your fingers over the skin of his chest, through the hair there, along his collarbone and over the thick hill of his shoulder as you push the fabric covering him back. You do not look up at him, but he thinks he might be able to feel the heat of your blood thrumming beneath your skin. He sits there and lets you do with him what you will.
When you bring the syringe to the hard muscle of his upper arm, a murmured, small poke, he does not feel it. The needle sinking into his flesh is secondary to the texture of your knee beneath his two fingers. With only his index finger and thumb he circles the joint of your knee, sliding slowly over your soft leggings. You’re so warm here, it feels like the heat of you is singing the tips of his fingers. Good, you should always be warm, always be comfortable. Perhaps the heat in the house isn’t so bad after all. He thinks, for one fleeting moment, that perhaps he should take the burn as a flare of warning, do not touch, something this good and beautiful, is not for the likes of you. But if he’s honest, he couldn’t give a fuck. After all, Joel’s never been very good. He’s always been a little on this side of too violent, too angry, too fractured, too hungry. And now that he’s got his hands on you he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to stop. The thought of that, the truth he can feel in it, makes his bones hurt, but he is hypnotized. He grips you more firmly in his hand, squeezes gently to feel the soft give of you. You finish with your stabbing of him, fuss with the bandage some more, and he flexes his injured hand once, still watching the place where he’s touching you, feels the tightness of the stitching, but nothing hurts right now. It couldn’t. It feels like his very bones are on fire, flaming within the confines of his skin, but it still doesn’t hurt. You bring your hands to rest in your lap when you’re finally finished. It’s his turn now, and he slides his hand further up your thigh, squeezing gently as he goes until he reaches your arm and grips the bend of your elbow, mumbles your name softly, cups the sharp angle of it in his palm, slides down the underside of your forearm to your wrist where he drags his thumb over the lacework of blue-hued veins there, beneath the fragile membrane keeping you held together. He thinks that the inside of your wrist might just be the softest thing he’s ever felt in his whole life.
He can sense the cadence of your breathing ricochet up to a hitched, nervous little stutter, and he finally looks up at you, his thumb still strumming that gentle stroke over the staccato of your pulse. He can feel the beat of your heart in your wrist and he wants to feel it against his tongue, wants to feel you pulse around his cock. Your gaze is fevered, manic, full of fire and a shout that sings, finally, finally, finally, you’re touching me, I’ve wanted this just as long as you have. He can see it in your gaze, and an understanding filled with a juxtaposing poignancy he can’t quite comprehend washes over him suddenly. He thinks he might’ve always understood you, from that first moment, that first sighting. There was something in you that called to him, and he’d tried to resist, as of yet, but he is about to fail spectacularly, to fall into you gloriously.
He wraps his other hand around your opposite knee and brings it up and over the wide expanse of his thigh, and then pulls you bodily into his lap. You let out a soft, perfect little gasp, and then you’re there, straddling him. Both of you pause for a second, taking each other in. Your eyes are so wide, a little wet, he thinks you might be a little overwhelmed by him, hopefully as overwhelmed as he is by you. The feel of your lush ass sitting over his cock has him going almost lightheaded for a second. It’s been a long time since he’s touched a woman, and for him to now make his return to physical intimacy with you, he needs to tread very, very carefully.
You bring one soft, small palm up to his face and cup his cheek, and he thinks he says your name again, but he isn’t entirely sure. His mind’s gone away from him a little bit. He can see each individual, ridiculously long lash up close like this, the strange amalgamation of colors in your eyes, deep and swimming with wanting him – fucking Christ – he might unman himself right here and now, at that look in your eyes, the peeling, dryness of your soft, plush lips where you’ve chewed on the flesh in concentration. You cup his jaw, drag your short nails gently over the stubble on his cheek and through the thick of his beard. He listens to the soft thwick, thwick of your nails catching on his whiskers, and the both of you shudder at the feel in tandem. You have a way of shaking yourself, as if to loosen your muscles, and he thinks, yes, yes, he wants to be let in, this is his chance. He brings his hand up to cup your own jaw, the hollow architecture of the fine bones, his other hand slides down the slope of your spine to curve over the softness of your ass. “Open up, little thing. Let me kiss you,” he says, his voice is almost unrecognizable to himself, low and gravely. He’s sure you can hear the want in it.
You give a short, wide-eyed nod, and he presses his mouth to yours – watches the flutter of those long lashes shut, he can feel them ghost against his cheeks as he kisses you. Like a bird’s wings.
He takes your mouth in long, slow, wet sweeps; licks his tongue into you and tastes the sweet inside of your mouth, runs his tongue over the surface of yours.
I’m inside, I’m inside, I’m inside.
His hand on your jaw slides to tangle in the hair at the nape of your neck, tugs your head back to open you to him, to deepen the kiss, to take you and taste you as deeply as possible, and you moan, drawn out and whining and for him. Your moans, like your words, end on a little lilt that sing to him, and at that sound he loses himself. He thinks you take him away from himself because he is suddenly made ravenous and of only tenuous control. He groans low in his own chest, his hand on your ass pressing you more firmly into his hard cock, grinds the searing heat between your legs into himself. “W– wanted this for so – for so long,” he presses wet kisses into the corner of your mouth, your jaw, the slope of your neck, pulls the neck of your flannel to the side to lick into the dip of your clavicle. He undoes the first two buttons of your shirt, the tops of your breasts, the flawless skin, the soft contours of you – “Too beautiful for your own damn good,” he growls, pulls you tighter against himself, you’re not going fucking anywhere.
He wants to keep you.
He lifts to his feet then, suddenly, taking you with him, gripping you beneath your thighs to wrap you around his waist, and with one brash hand, he sweeps the papers and books off your desk, hears the clatter of your instruments hit the ground, and plants your ass down on the edge of your desk, grips your jaw to hunch over you and eat at your mouth. Your fingers tug at his hair and beard and open shirt, trying to pull him closer to you, your knees hiking up on either side of his waist to press the heels of your socked feet into the base of his spine.
“Me too, Joel. Me too. Thought it’d never– never happen,” you pant into his mouth, claw harder at him.
And fuck, to hear that you’ve been waiting for this, waiting for him to come and take you for himself. If he was not already a thing made of thrumming, uncontrolled energy, then he most certainly is now. You pause to look up at him then, a momentary respite of your frantic clawing, and you give him the sweetest curve of a small smile, the moment so private, so acutely intimate, it makes his knees shake.
You move to reach for his belt, but he holds you at bay, taking both your wrists in his grasp and pressing your hands back to the desk, forcing you to lean backwards so that he can kiss at your neck, taste your skin, he nudges his nose beneath the collar of your shirt to get at your clavicle, bites the strap of your bra between his teeth to drag it over your shoulder. “Baby, if you touch me now, this’ll be over before it’s even began.” He bites into the thin muscles of your neck, and you keen for him, sucks a mark into your skin he hopes you’ll wear for days. He wants you marked and branded by him. Your knees hitch higher at his sides and you press your heels into the small of his back, grinding yourself against the line of his cock. You let out a breathy, urgent sort of noise, rolling your little cunt as best as you can against him with your hands restrained as he’s got you. “You want that?” he grunts, giving you more pressure with his hips. Please, please, please, you’re full of the most delicious sort of supplications, and you’re so pretty and so desperate for his cock, and he must handle you with care.
“M’gonna eat your cunt, sweet girl.” You whine low. He pulls back to take you in, glassy eyes and a deep flush starting at your chest and sneaking up the column of your throat. He tucks his fingers into the cups of your bra and scoops your breasts out. Fuckin’ gorgeous, bends his head to suck one perfect nipple into his mouth and pulls hard on it, enjoys the song of your mewling. He nips gently at the sensitive bud, gives the other one the same adoring attention, and then drops to his haunches before you. The look in your eyes is slightly manic, maybe a little apprehensive. “It’s alright, don’t be scared. Gotta get you ready for me.” All you do is nod. He hooks his fingers under your waist band and starts to slowly drag your leggings and panties down your legs, pulling one foot out, not bothering with the other. One of his hands slides slowly up the back of your calf, the other pulling your leg over his shoulder and spreads you wide by the bend of your knee. Exposing you to him completely. He groans low in his throat, “Knew you’d be beautiful, but I didn’t expect this.” He looks up at you.
“Joel–”
“Yeah…” He leans forward and presses his tongue into your slit, dragging slowly up towards your clit. He thinks he must growl like some sort of animal because you let out a breathy little hiccup, nervous and stuttered and try and press your knee in his grip closed. Nuh uh, he mumbles into your skin, grips you more tightly. He focuses on your clit, kissing and petting at it with his tongue, brings his other hand up to press gently at your entrance. You’re fucking small here, he begins to push a single finger inside and you start to really unravel at that, fucking tight too. He can’t wait to shove his cock into this tight, wet heat. He gives you his entire finger to the knuckle, drinking down your slick, holds there for a moment, and then begins to add a second finger, pumping them slowly, making room for himself inside of you. He scissors his fingers, twisting his wrist slightly from side to side, stretching you in new ways with each careful thrust. Slow and methodical and precise, ever aware that he is handling a delicate thing right now. He watches your face, your eyes flutter closed, your hips tilting to welcome his hand as he fucks you open. All the while he continues to lick and kiss your clit. His fingers find that spongy, sensitive spot inside of you, and you keen as he starts to pet at it, hooking his fingers and beckoning your orgasm forth. He feels your muscles begin to quicken, your head falling back on your neck as your flushed tits heave, trussed up as they are in your bra, and you're so slick, you’re melting down his fingers and into his palm, sweet and salty and musky. And you start to come for him, whining low and needy, your knee hitching up by his ear to press your little foot into the meat of his shoulder, trying to push him away and sit on his face at the same time. You tilt your hips further and roll your pulsing cunt onto his face. Goddamn, you’re fucking beautiful. He is mesmerized. His eyes never leaving your face as your gush all over his face and open mouth. He drinks it all up, licking and sucking and kissing, all while his fingers continue to work you through the contractions of your orgasm.
Joel, Joel, Joel, you sing his name for him like a little bird.
When the throbbing pulses have finally gentled he surges to his feet, licking his palm clean of your slick before he presses his mouth to yours and lets you taste yourself on his tongue. He undoes his belt and frees himself. Thick, brutish cock, the swollen head is an angry shade of red verging on purple, precum leaking from the slit. The fat head of it compared to your tiny, fluttering hole is obscene. The threads of his control snap in slow motion, one by one by one, and when you look down to take him in, the size of him, your eyes go big and round and that little foot is back, toeing at him to futilely press yourself away from him. He circles his fist around the thick length as he presses the head to your swollen clit, starts to slide the underside slowly through your wet cleft.
“No, no, no, no, Joel. That– it isn’t going to fit. No– it’s too big.”
“It’ll fit. I’ll be gentle, don’t worry.” He presses the head into your clit again, hard, and you whimper. “Have you done this before, sweet girl?” Your blush flames even brighter if possible, and he watches the fluttering of those long lashes as you say quietly, “Once,” looking down at where the two of you make contact. One of your small hands has snaked up to grip at his shirt and anchor yourself to him.
He slides one hand under your thigh to lift you while he lines himself up with the other, and then slowly starts to press inside. And fuck, so, so tight, your walls still slightly fluttering and trembling from your orgasm, hot as sin– “Jesus Christ–” he grits. He holds for one second, only halfway in, but no, no, it’s too much. “Shit, baby. This– This isn’t going to last very long, I’m sorry,” and then grips your ass and shoves all the way inside, hard, almost brutally, all the way to the end of you. You keen high and breathless, clawing at his shirt and skin as he feels you pulse and struggle around him, your muscles working to accommodate his size inside of you. He feels his tip bump your cervix, and he grinds there for a moment. Fucking Christ.
“It’s too much, it’s too much, please, Joel – I can’t.” There are tears in your eyes. His cock makes you fucking cry, and he likes it, and he wants more.
“You’re alright, you can take it,” he soothes, pulls out and then shoves back in. You’re impossibly wet, the slick, sucking sound of your pussy trying to keep him inside resounds in the quiet office. He starts to fuck you hard, in even measured strokes. You have to come on his cock. You have to, he has to feel it. “Easy now, settle. Yeah… just like that. Good girl.” Your wet eyes glisten with tears and your mouth hangs open, panting. You’re trembling, the much smaller body trying to force itself to take something so much bigger and remain intact, but he bends his knees and angles his thrusts up to fuck into your g-spot, and he starts to feel the fluttering of your overwhelmed muscles begin to quicken for him again.
“Christ, you’re huge,” you squeeze your eyes shut, head falling back on your neck, and a single tear rolls down the smooth slope of your cheek. He bends forward to lick it up, fucking animal, and then licks into your mouth, tasting all that glorious desperation. When he pulls back he watches the fat base of his cock stretching you, red cunt, swollen and split down the middle obscenely. He’s sure your little hole is gonna gape for him once he’s done with it. The sight is so fucking pornographic he begins to feel his heavy balls tighten, a searing heat pooling at the base of his spine.
“You’ve gotta fuckin’ come for me.” He bends to bite the swinging weight of your tit, sucks hard at your nipple as he starts to thrum at your engorged clit. Your hand twists in his hair, the other supporting your weight behind you. You start to roll into his thrusts, and he can’t hold it anymore, he can’t. He wraps a hand around your throat, stiffens and shoves hard and deep, an animal sound ripping from his throat as he feels you clamp down on him, his fist coming down hard on the desk beside you as he growls the start of your name between clenched teeth that turns into a guttural wordless snarl. He doesn’t even try to stop himself when he feels his balls pull up, almost painfully, and he starts to fill the wet heat of your cunt with his come, marking you as his. Fucking his.
Your contracting muscles pull his spend deep into your womb, and you sing breathy, little sighs of gratitude right into the shell of his ear, heaving tits pressed up against his chest. He dips his chin to lick at the soft mounds and pulls out to spurt the last thick stream of come over your swollen folds. He rubs the spend into your clit with his thumb, pushes the little white trickle into your fluttering hole – he was right, it is gaping for him. His head feels trapped underwater and there’s a rushing noise in his ears. And then a terrible sort of bliss ruining realization settles over him, fuck, how careless can he be, filling you up like this.
-
His limbs seem to snap with horrified realization. “Shit,” he spits, pulls away from your grasping fingers so quickly you’re forced to catch yourself on the edge of the desk without his support. “I– I’m sorry– I shoulda asked before. I shoulda pulled out, I’m sorry.” He turns slightly to tuck his wet cock back into his jeans, do up the buttons of his open shirt, and you slide off the edge of the desk onto shaky legs, bracing yourself on your chair to keep upright. Your knees knock together pathetically.
“It’s– it’s okay. My period’s in a few days. We’re okay.” We. You flinch slightly at the word. There is no we in this situation between the two of you. The look on his face is making that painfully obvious. There’s a light in his eye that gleams peculiarly of anger – of fury. That seems to demand: how dare you make me feel like this, how dare you tempt me like this, how dare this thing we’ve both wanted for so long feel so good. Because it had, it had felt so, so good.
The awareness of the emptiness he’s left in his wake at his withdrawal is almost painful. You feel stretched thin and filled to the brim at the same time. He’d filled you impossibly full, ramming up against your cervix, and then somehow seemingly pressing even deeper. You’re going to be sore for days. Your flannel is long, reaches mid thigh, hiding the vulnerable sight of your used sex from his eyes, but you can feel his come start to slowly seep out of you.
He runs his hand through his unruly curls, over his mouth and beard. He’s facing slightly away from you, as if he can’t bear to look at you, and the sight of him like this, fucking coward, almost regretful or embarrassed makes a small pinch of hurt and anger curdle in your gut.
“Are you– was that okay?” he asks softly. You push your leggings and panties off your ankle with your other foot, wrap your arms around yourself. “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you?”
“I’m fine,” you say quietly. You think you almost see him flinch at the sound of your words.
“Alright… okay–” he swallows. “Okay. That– that was the only time. Alright? That– that can’t happen again. I can’t – I’m not lookin’ to start anything up.”
“Okay.” What else is there to say? You can lie to yourself and say that once will be enough. That you can survive on only one time. You’ve always been very good at lying to yourself.
He nods once. He’s so uncomfortable, and it makes you angry, nods again, “Alright. Good. I’m sorry again… and thank you,” he lifts up his wrapped hand.
“Sure, Joel.” He turns and stalks towards the door, but pauses when he reaches it, seems to shuffle back and forth, weighing his options – the risk – and then turns, stalks back to you and takes you in hand. He wraps one large palm around your face, from your cheek to cup the curve of your jaw. The tip of his index finger presses into the outer curve of your orbital bone, his thumb on the edge of your mandible to angle your face up towards him, the other at the small of your back to press you up and into him, “Lemme just… I just want to–” he mumbles and takes your mouth with is. He licks into you, a soft groan of appreciation, of hunger, rumbling out of him. He likes the taste of you, he likes the feel of you, you know he does, even if he wants to pretend at recalcitrance.
He is a thrumming effigy under your hands. There is something immensely sad and vital simmering just underneath the surface of his skin, and you think: he is so important. You know it now, right now, perhaps, since the first moment you’d set eyes on him. It feels like he owns you – already, in this instant – like he always has, and he’s just been biding his time, an apex predator toying with its food before he decides to gorge himself. You moan into his kiss, let yourself go soft and pliant, sceding all control, all of your will to him. He pulls back, tucks his thumb beneath the cleft of your chin to tilt your head back and peer into your eyes.
“Sure…” he murmurs. He goes after that, out into the dark night. You stand at your window and watch the span of his broad back as he walks away, the wet feel of him sliding down the insides of your thighs, and you think that you might become quite a monstrous thing under the guiding hand of this desperate want, this terrifying loneliness that seems to abate only in his presence.
-
He’s on your front porch two nights later, that was the only time, yeah, sure, urging you backwards as soon as you’ve got the door open, his hands in your hair and his tongue in your mouth with a rumbled, just one more time. Taking you for himself, once again.
Netherfeildren's Masterlist
#FoG fic#Joel Miller#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel miller x female oc#the last of us fanfiction#joel miller smut#joel miller angst#joel miller imagine#tlou fanfiction#tlou fic
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Hello! I hope you are fine <3🤲💗
I wanted to ask you about some Uchiha HCs as parents (especially Shisui haha). Idk, things like "How they would react if their Y/N told them they were going to be parents" or "How many children would they have if they had them and how would they treat them?"
🥹 mmm Shisui. Yes. 🙌🏻 Since I’m in a fog, I’ll choose Obito and Shisui — I will probably add more later and reblog then. Focusing more on Shisui though.
(I sort of expanded on this a bit. Leading up to birth etc).
Suggestive themes — mostly N/SFW; pregnancy reactions; and some other cute shit idk how to categorize. Ok yea, I went a bit crazy on Shisui, he’s my blorbo.
Obito:
• Even if it’s planned, he’s going to spiral. It worked on the first time? Duh, Uchiha. Really just stupid luck.
• ‘Already?’ — Obito; ‘….I mean…that’s what happens when you have sex..’ — her. She’s so patient though with him.
• Obito will spend the next few days not necessarily moping, but in minor distress. The whole thing about having a baby this soon, even though it was planned. Has really got him thinking.
• ‘I need to get my shit together.’ He’s not wrong, but they’re not in a bad place. All the financial matters were sorted out before she even went off the pill. She’s going to spend a lot of time easing his worries when he should be settling hers.
• He thinks they can’t have sex anymore 😂 ‘I’ll hurt the baby.’ This woman will have to coax him to satisfy her needs and being hormonal, he’s going to get scared and cave.
• Every time she’s sick, he’s sick. lol. Obito is one of those husbands that are sympathy ill when their wife is unwell, pregnant or not. Though the morning sickness he had worse than her.
• When she actually starts showing, the tables are turned. Obito can’t keep his hands off her. This is amazing! ‘I put that in you…’ —🫠 👈🏻 her. Yea, he did, that big dummy stuffed her good.
• When she is too big to do anything for herself, Obito takes center stage in everything. He matured rather quickly, strange how the prospect of becoming a dad alters an individual.
• 😅 Hit it from the back too rough and ultimately the orgasm she had made her go into labor (I know this is false advertisement but it’s Obito, he’s that guy).
• Nearly passes out as his wife is sprawled up on the stirrups, looks anyways and dear lord, ‘are you recording this?’ She says. Yea, he is. Unintentionally the sharingan populates and he might as well.
• Holds his son for the first time and cries. I think most men do, he’s the most precious thing in this world. Obito didn’t think he could ever make up for what he did in the past, but this one human. This tiny, itty bitty baby boy might just be his Hail Mary. That he could even bring something so good into the world makes him soften even more.
Shisui:
• Family man. 100%. They’ve been trying, and it’s not taking. Not because they’re incapable of it, both healthy and young. He’s just so busy. The days they end up trying don’t line up with her cycle and I mean they’re not just going to not have sex. Any chance he gets to put a bit of him and a little Uchiha inside her are precious moments.
• Firm believer in holding her legs up for a half hour 😂 ‘it has to marinate.’ Big eye rolls from his wife, who just lets him do things his way. After a few months, she finally begs him to just take a week off when she’s the most susceptible of his seed taking root.
• The mere idea that she is rearing and ready to go has Shisui taking his wife at the most unexpected of times. Maybe a week off was a good idea. Needless to say, the house chores are piling up. She wasn’t particularly fond of being shoved head first in the dryer either.
• ‘Making baby is the fun part…’ is his excuse when she chides him for it. Dear lord, this man shooting blanks and still trying.
• Then the unimaginable is announced, well not unimaginable but it felt like too long to actually confirm they were successful. Shisui from this point forward makes sure his pregnant wife gets everything she wants and then some.
• There is no shock period. This was all planned, Shisui is eternally grateful that his wife will be ushering their next of kin into the world. All the hard work is on her now and he is going to make sure she is treated like royalty.
• Though he questions some of her cravings, ‘…really? Ok….’ He won’t judge her, but goddamn it’s not something he’d eat.
• Copious amounts of pampering. Spends ridiculous amounts of money to have her swollen feet pedicured once a month, if she doesn’t want that he will do it himself. Her care is nonnegotiable and she is getting big with life inside of her! She needs some reprieve from the constant drain on her body.
• We aren’t even going to lie, they pretty much have sex up until the baby is born, though not like how Obito did. It’s maybe twice a week, which is less often but enough. If she’s not in the mood for it herself, she would offer to relieve him. Though he might feel guilty, so he would just use his mouth in return if she wasn’t opposed to something less invasive on her aching body. She’ll agree, Shisui is talented in those regards.
• She was making tea in the kitchen when her water broke, Shisui was out on a mission!!! She had to get Itachi to send word of bird and less than an hour he’s back. Exhausted and tired, he made it for the birth. He knew that he shouldn’t have taken that mission but she was adamant he do what he felt necessary for their village. Such a understanding woman!
• Is planting kisses to her forehead, cheeks and lips whenever she starts pushing. Holds one of her legs when the baby is finally crowning, and watches the miracle of birth. The fruit of their passion and love is wayfered into this big world. So beautiful and precious. A son, I often hc Shisui would name his first son Kagami. (I’m pretty sure the series alluded them being related).
• 🥹🥹🥹🥹 👈🏻 shisui 👉🏻 🥴😴 his wife after labor. He is wholly enamored at the tiny being in his arms. Takes the time to figure out which features their baby got from who. Undoubtedly this kid has his mop head of curls. Her nose and eye color, his eye shape and ears. 100% them.
#shisui headcanons#obito headcanons#shisui uchiha#obito uchiha#uchiha shisui#uchiha obito#uchiha clan#uchiha family
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Once innocent. Part 5. (Sully family x reader)
Hi! Just a reminder that this is a mini series to show the deeper sides of Y/n’s life BEFORE “The chore” :) 💕
“Tuk! No!” I rush in to protect her from the glass. Everything felt so slow, all I saw was Tuk, I’ll take any hit if it meant keeping her safe. But then it all went black.
*y/n ‘dream’*
“Y/n?” I open my eyes “Rey’akana? (Rubbing my eyes to get a better look) Rey’akana! W-where have you been? I missed you.” He embraces my hug and shares my emotions. I began sobbing in his arms unable to hold in any of my emotions “I’m so-….I’m so stupid, I-I don’t know what to do.” He gave me his safe sad look “Oh I know that feeling, you know I was making it all up as I went along right? You kept me going. You wanna tell me about what you’re up against?” I look down at my tiny hands, playing with them. (Rey’akana sees Y/n only in her kid body, not her teenage body!)
“It’s dad. He doesn’t think I can take care of Tuk. He’s going to take her away. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way I-I- I didn’t mean for it to go this way. I just- I’m so attached to her, I love her. She’s everything to me, she’s my light and he knows it. He’s completely fine in taking it away. I can’t keep fighting him anymore, it’s not easy. I can’t go back to him anymore. Maybe he was right, I was a distraction I get people killed.” Rey’akana looks at her with the most shocked and angered face, soon calming down realizing he should try a different approach. Exhaling a sigh
“Oh sunshine, you know you always get like this after arguing with him, after something big. Remember when you argued with him over you hitting that girl for saying something mean?” I shake my head “yea but that’s different, I was alone. Now I have Tuk. I’ve realized that…I can’t just keep fighting him, he’s only going to push her away”
he takes a moment and looks back out to the forest “…it’s harder when you have something to lose. But having her, people you care about? That’s a good thing. She’s fighting beside you. Because of you.” I nod my head agreeing. he laughed and said “To think when I did your hair or taught you survival, I was just following memories from 20 years back. But you…You have a gift of surviving, you’ve kept Tuk strong. She looks up to you. You’re a leader Y/n, a natural. You’ll have the power of a clan one day.“
I smiled and look up at him “thank you Rey’akana, talking to you just always makes me feel a little bit better.” He gives a sigh of relief “you know you didn’t distract me right sunshine? I made it clear that I’d protect you. If anything, you gave me motivation to keep fighting in wars. Eywa sent you the same gift she gave me. A sweet innocent child. A ray of sunshine. Tuk is your gift. But something tells me Eywa is sending you more. A real chance at life. For you and Tuk. You just need to remain patient. Remember your job Y/n, you made a promise. When you return to Tuk, you tell her all the things you need her to do, give her a simple push to keep going with you. You don’t think it hurt her the same way when she heard her father yelling at the one thing she holds sacred? That girl looks at you as if you were the only one there. You look at her like she’s the only person you’ve ever known. She see’s it. So when you go back to her Pick it up, and start again. You’ve got a second chance. You could go home. Ignore him, it’s just irrelevant. I’ll only be able to come back once it’s all over Y/n. When you need me again, I’ll be here watching you, holding you while you sleep. You could still be what you want to, what you said you were when I met you. You’ve got a warm heart and beautiful brain, don’t let him take it away.” I grasp onto him more trying to hold onto our little time left, before he goes but I can’t wait to see him again. Please no.
“I’m not ready to go without you again, please.” He sighs and hold me tighter before saying “A guardian who has not prepared their ‘child’ for their own death has failed as a guardian. I prepared you. You’ve been doing good, just need to come back down. You have prepared Tuk, I’ve seen you…but it’s not your time. Come see me again, when you’re really fine and got both of you out ok? Out and safe.” I cry into his arms again “Ok, oel ngati kameie Rey’akana” he smiles and says “Oel ngati kameie, Sunshine” *
I let out a long gasp as I come into reality. “Y/N! Oh Y/n, I’m so happy your ok! Let me get grandmother!” She rushes out after a quick hug and barley gives me the chance to say anything. I wait patiently, preparing what I’m going to say, to Tuk, to father. “Y/n…how are you? Are you ok? I’m so sorry that happened my child. You were out for awhile, but you seem to be as good as you could be in this situation.” Grandmother cleans and checks me up. “Your mother and father are on their way. Sit tight.” She leaves, with a sympathetic smile on her face. She doesn’t know what happened but she knows it wasn’t right. None of the treatment Y/n received was right. But what could she do? It’s her daughters child. If she betrays her daughter, she betrays herself….
“Sunshine, come here, in my arms ok?” Tuk looks hesitant, almost as if she’s scared to hurt me. “…a-are you sure? You’re still-“ Y/n cuts her off with a laugh “I don’t care sunshine, I just want to hold you and talk for a minute. Before they come ok?” Tuk complies and goes to sit in my arms. “This is just what happens sometimes-“ Tuk shakes her head and says “But it wasn’t supposed to happen to you!” I sigh taking in her frustration, it’s valid for her, she wanted to take the hit just as much as I did, but she’s just a kid.
“My sunshine, You’ll always be sunshine to me. Look at me…You’re so perfect, how did I get so lucky?”
She looks at me with tears in her eyes still remembering the fear she felt when she tried to save her sister in the room. How she thought she lost her. “Please. Don’t be silly right now. Not right now. Please. Stop. Just stop. I thought I lost you, I thought I’d never see your sweet face again.” I sigh and close my eyes preparing my speech.
I need this confirmation. I need her to know even if she was scared, she could live without me. I need to know that she won’t give up. So I’ll talk like it’s my last breath. To make sure it’s heard. “I have a job for you. If and when the time comes for me, I need you to get back home. I need you to sleep in your own hammock, and have friends, and grow tall. Taller than I ever was I hope. I need you to live Tuk. That’s your job now. I need to hear you say it” she looks down, crying before looking up at me securing her promise “Ok Y/n that’s my job now” I hold her for the meanwhile while she sleeps, I begin picking glass out of her hair.
“Y/n? Oh thank Eywa you are ok.” Mother rushes in and hugs me. This is uh…new? I just TRY to accept the hug. Father walks in soon after. “Y/n, sorry. I never meant to hit you with the glass.” He didn’t hit me, but he wanted to hit near me. “Let me make this clear. I do not care what you felt you had to do. Or what your intentions were. You are wrong. And I am allowed to be as mad as I can be about it. I do not want to hear your excuses. We both know that the way you hit, how hard it was, the aggravation, next time your intentions are going to be worse and we both know that. I’m not gonna pick glass out of Tuk’s hair again, it’s just not gonna happen. I will be allowed to see Tuk. You OWE me that.” He still gives me that silently frustrated look. He can keep it. All I need is Tuk. I carry her quietly as I walk out to go home so I can pick more glass out of her hair. Eywa only knows what she felt and saw when I was hit.
*Tuk’s Dream*
He’s yelling at her again. This time, he’s too mean. He’s always mean to her. I was listening to them argue until I heard him say “You will not watch Tuk anymore.” What?! No no no please. I run to get mom to help me stop the argument. Then I run back back to go inside and stop it. As soon as I walked in dad threw a glass handle, headed right to me but it was obviously not intended for me…but for my sister. My mind didn’t process how fast it was, I could just hear her voice
“Tuk! No!” It hit her so bad, she fell to the floor with glass cut into her face. “Y/n? Y/n?” No, no not like this. I whistle out to her crying in between, praying to Eywa to have her whistle back to me. Let me know she’s ok.
“No! No! What have you done! Mom help! No Y/n! You’re gonna be fine, your gonna be ok. Not my sister, please not my sister.” Mom rushes in “Jake, carry her NOW. We have to take her to my mother.” I run as I follow them, yelling out to Y/n in hopes she’ll wake up and hear me. “Y/n! You’re going to be ok! I’m right here!” Then we made it to grandmother’s and she got to work quick.
I turn to dad ready to speak my mind. Like I was taught. “Y/n is hurt because of you. I don’t know why you get so mad at her. But it is not an excuse for you to hurt her. She will never be good enough for you will she?…no matter how hard she tries. She’ll never be strong enough…she’ll never be perfect enough…Y/n stopped trying with you because you only saw the worst in her. She loves this family. You’re the one that doesn’t care. You’re the one who’s…reckless! She could die because of you.” I was mad. I will not hide it in order to make him feel comfortable. I hold zero mercy for someone who clearly didn’t care. I walk away towards Y/n, ignoring him calling my name. Ignoring him give me his sad voice and pleads. My heart is still racing. It hurts. She’s alive but, nothing will bring me comfort knowing that she’s not sleeping willingly. She can’t wake up. She’s just stuck in transit right now. *
She wakes up scared, screaming my name. “Tuk? It’s ok, it’s ok I’m right here. Don’t worry I’m not leaving you. I’ll protect you. I’m here sunshine.” She sobs into my arms “I can’t sleep. Let me sleep with you. Please.” “I’ll never deny you sunshine, let’s just clean up first. We’re dirty right now. Once we’re done we can sleep.” So we did just that and as we are laying down tuk decides to ask a question “c-can you sing me to sleep? Like when I was a baby…I’m just too distracted right now.” I give a small laugh and agree. We haven’t done this in so long, I missed it. She’s getting so big.
“Moonbeams and starlight, magical twilight
The warmest ray, hear it whispering your name
Rainbows at midnight, sparking night skies
Don’t go away, stay another day.”
I can feel her peacefully sleep and soon I follow her….
💕!
I tried making this my last part, but I just can’t rush it. I want more sister moments, more ********* moments. Can’t give too much away 🤭 Hopefully Y/n and Tuk can catch a break soon. 💔
Tag list: @noodlesfics @eywas-heir @itshype
@zatarias-pandora @yeosxxx @arminsgfloll
@abbersreads @tsireyak @neteyamforlife @aimsro
@elegantkidfansoul @goodiesinthecloset21
@nikotokitaswife @bucky1235 @detectivesparrow @kikosaurscave @octavias-next-meat-bite @midnightliacr @waitingforanotherpart @marybrown23 @ssc7514 @destinylb @simp-erformarvelwomen @eirianna @ambria @lv9su @im-in-a-pansexual-panik
#jake sully x reader#neteyam x reader#sully family x reader#loak x reader#angst#neteyam sully#sully family x daughter reader#neytiri sully#avatar loak#avatar the way of water
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You know what I’m most curious about for Milgram? How did the first few days go over? Milgram kidnapped eleven people and threw them in a building with no exits or even a window, had one announce to the others that they were all murderers and they were going to investigate, and how well do you think that went over?
I can see those who were indirect murderers being much more sociable than those who directly took a life. Like Mikoto, who is so sure that all he did was dream and believed that this was some sort of game show, thinks the term murderer is made up and is just chatting away. Or Shidou, whose murder seems to involve his shitty bedside manner (pressuring families of brain dead patients to pull the plug and I think pressuring other patients to go through with risky organ transplants), is probably like yes, everyone must be involved with a death that would be hard to prosecute, I bet little Amane probably was playing with a friend who fell off the playground, cracked their head open, and died. Does she need a trusted adult?
Then you have Haruka and Muu, who directly killed their victims through very personal methods (strangulation and stabbing), who are rightly terrified that the others must have killed like they have and could be killed so they try to stay out of the spotlight. Kotoko, who stomped her victim to death, having the same line of thought as Kazui, a policeman, with needing to carefully evaluate the situation and not act rashly because they both realize that the chances of everyone having the same story as them is slim.
Just imagine the first meal together. It’s tense and awkward, as everyone steals glances at each other and pokes at the food, and then someone (Shidou or Mikoto, probably) breaks the ice.
Shidou: “Why don’t we go around the room and introduce ourselves? I’m Shidou Kirisaki. I’m 29 years old, and I worked as a doctor before coming here.”
Mikoto: “That’s a great idea! I’m-”
Fuuta: “Why are we doing this kiddie crap? We were kidnapped. And why are we eating with this cosplaying brat and a rabbit?”
Es: refuses to react
Jackalope: angry ear twitch
Mikoto: “Chillax. This is probably just one of those new reality shows.”
Fuuta: “You sign up for those, stupid. Do you remember signing up for this, because I sure as hell don’t remember-”
Shidou: cutting in “Language.”
Fuuta: “Are you fu-”
Mikoto: quickly “So, I’m Mikoto Kayano, 23, and I worked for a top of the line advertising company down in Tokyo! What about you, uh?”
Kotoko: “Kotoko Yuzuriha. 20. I was studying law, but I was taking a brief sabbatical before… this.”
Mikoto: “Cool! I don’t think I could be a lawyer. I’m terrible at conflict.”
Mahiru: “Same here! I’m Mahiru Shiina, and I’m 22 years old. I’m in my final year of studying literature at university.”
Shidou: “What about you? You must be in your last year of high school, right? What are you thinking of studying?”
Fuuta: sputtering “I-I’m in college! I’m 20, for God’s sake! I haven’t been in high school for a while. You need to get your eyes checked.”
Kazui: to Amane “Would you like to go next or should I?”
Amane: “You can go first. I don’t mind.”
Fuuta: loudly “I’m not done yet!”
Mikoto: “I thought you didn’t want to do this-”
Fuuta: interrupts “The name’s Fuuta Kajiyama.”
Kazui: “And I’m Kazui Mukuhara. 39. I’m a police officer.”
Kotoko: narrows eyes “A police officer? And you’re here?”
Shidou: to the four remaining “And you all?”
Amane: “My name is Amane Momose, and I am 12 years old. I’m in the sixth grade.”
Mikoto: disbelief “My God, you’re so young.”
Amane: “I’d prefer it if you didn’t offer me any sort of special treatment because of my age. Treat me as you would any other prisoner.”
Shidou: aghast “But you are a child.”
Amane: angry pout and about to argue when
Yuno: does not want to listen to them argue “I suppose I’ll go next. I’m Yuno Kashiki. 18. I’m in my final year of high school. And you?”
Muu: “M-my name is M-Muu Kusonoki. I am 16 years old and in my first year of high school. Please don’t hurt me.”
Kotoko: flatly “The grade-schooler has more guts than you.”
Shidou: “I would argue that she isn’t being foolish.”
Amane: “It would be foolish to ask for special treatment. I do agree with the sentiment but I don’t fear any of you.”
Fuuta: “You’re literally 12. How are you not pissing your-”
Shidou: “Language!”
Amane: “There is no need for censorship on my account. I know all the bad words already. Speak freely around me.”
Fuuta: smugly “Yeah, see? She’s probably heard worse from her classmates.” Points to Haruka. “What about you?”
Haruka: shrinks down in his chair “U-uh, I’m, um, I’m Haruka Sakurai. I’m 17, I think. I’m uh, not very bright. Please be patient with me.”
Shidou: “There’s no need to put yourself down. What year of high school are you in?”
Haruka: “I’m, I’m not. My parents said that, that they’d rather light the money on fire for warmth than send me to high school just for me to flunk out. It would be a better use of-”
Fuuta: angry “That’s fucked!”
Shidou: “Language!”
Yuno: “Hate to say it, but he’s right. It is messed up.”
Shidou: “It is, but there is no reason to use such language in front of a child.”
Amane: “You don’t have to protect me from foul language. I just said-”
Shidou: “What about you, Es? How old are you?”
Es: “15.”
Fuuta: “You have gotta be kidding me! The fate of our lives hang in the hands of a junior high student!”
Mikoto: “Relax. Our lives don’t really hang in their hands. It’s just a TV show.”
Fuuta: “This isn’t a TV show!”
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i know i’ll pay for it
Part 4 of ‘the sweetest con’
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader
Word Count: 1.9k
A/N: dramaaaaaaa in this chapter
<- PART THREE
“Hey, hey, hey,” I heard her sing out to the group in the bullpen.
She was greeted with joy, especially since she was bringing food inside. I sensed the too-familiar feeling in my heart creep in, knowing that as soon as she dropped off the things everyone else had ordered, she’d be coming to give me mine. I waited patiently through the soft conversation exchanged between the others, going back to work in hopes I’d stop thinking about her. It didn’t work.
“Hotchner,” she exclaimed, jumping into the room.
“Agent,” I replied, keeping my best straight face.
“Come on,” she whined with a smile, shoulders deflating. “You know you love me.”
“Mhm,” I hummed, allowing myself to let a little humor slip into my voice. “I love silence.”
“You saying you want me to stop talking?”
“Never.”
She laughed, setting down the takeout bag on my desk and taking a seat before I even had the chance to offer.
“How’s your day so far?” she asked, digging through the bag to get her food.
“We’re not on a plane right now, so not too bad.”
“And you have lunch.”
“And excellent company,” I added.
“See?” she said, pointing her sandwich in my direction. “You love me.”
“Did I ever say I didn’t?”
She hummed. “Good point.”
We started eating, sharing a little conversation and the container of fries. I watched her as she lit up, talking about the latest series she’d been watching. Even in the small things, she was so passionate.
“The new season is starting this week, too,” she said, giving me a look as if I’d be just as hyper about it.
Based on her reaction, I almost was.
“Yeah?”
“Yes! I’ve been waiting for so long.”
“That’s great. Let’s hope we don’t get an urgent case, then.”
“No kidding,” she nodded, her eyes wide. “How’s Jack lately?”
I swallowed. “Good. He’s handling everything really well, especially since he can’t fully understand it yet.”
“That’s good. He’s a great kid. He’s going to turn out just fine, you know?”
“I know,” I nodded, not quite knowing how she could always read my mind. “I know, I just wish he didn’t have to grow up like this. He deserved better than running between houses.”
“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “My parents split up when I was young, and I honestly never wished they would have ended up together. They were great together at first, but they were so much happier when they split.”
“Really?”
“Really. It was really hard at first to accept it, but when I hit my teens… I guess I could understand it all better. I ended up happier as a kid because I didn’t have to deal with constant fighting and negative feelings all the time anymore.”
I was quiet for a moment, thinking it over. She continued when I didn’t speak.
“I’m not saying that’s exactly what will happen. I don’t know enough about your marriage to tell you what will happen,” she said, sitting back in her seat. “I do know that he’s gonna be okay. And, one day, he won’t be sad about it anymore. He knows you both love him so much, and I don’t think either of you are capable of letting him forget that.”
“Thank you for saying all of that,” I said, voice suddenly quiet. “I’ve been struggling with it. Especially not being able to see him at home every night we’re not traveling. I just want him to be happy, and I don’t want him to think all of the fighting that’s happened with the divorce is going to be the norm.”
“I get it. It’s all going to work out, though, you know?“
“I’ll take it from you,” I replied, trying to lighten up the room.
She smiled again. “Good. You should.”
“On a very different note, I got a new coffee table and a bookshelf yesterday.”
“Nice,” she nodded, accepting my change of topic. “What do they look like?”
“Don’t know yet. I still have to assemble them.”
“You need help?” she asked, looking at me. “I love little projects.”
“I’m not making you build my furniture,” I chuckled, taking a drink.
She shook her head. “Alright, it’s not a question anymore. I’m coming over and now I’m making dinner just to spite you.”
I scoffed. “You’re not going to make dinner for me.”
“When was the last time you had a home-cooked meal?”
I fell quiet, trying to remember.
She raised a brow. “That’s what I thought. I’m coming over. That’ll get you out of the office at a reasonable time, too.”
I didn’t hold back a smile this time. “Alright. I’ve learned better than to try to fight you.”
“Damn right.”
She showed up at my door that night with grocery bags. I sighed, resigned to the fact that she would continue to try to care for me no matter how much I tried to reject it. I had to at least pretend that I didn’t want nothing more than to spend time with her.
She prepared dinner, putting it in the oven to cook as we started on building the furniture. She fixed all of my mistakes, laughing as we sat on the floor by the couch.
“You really can’t get a bolt in?” she asked with a smile, leaning over to look at the leg of the table.
“It’s not going in,” I said, not able to stop myself from chuckling at her surprise.
She took the little tool and the bolt from me, scooting close enough for our legs to be pressed together. I took the opportunity to watch her as she screwed it in with ease, the smell of her perfume almost overwhelming me as she sat in my space.
“See?” she asked, sitting up straight. “Easy enough.”
“For you.”
She looked at me, suddenly even closer than I had realized. The oven timer started going off, but she didn’t move.
“For anyone who knows what they’re doing,” she said with smirk.
I rolled my eyes playfully. “I went to law school, I’m no carpenter.”
She laughed, getting up to get the food out of the oven. I sat for a moment, catching my breath, then followed along. We sat on the couch, utilizing the now-built coffee table for the first time. We were nearly finished when she started laughing to herself.
“Do you think the bookshelf will be as big of a hassle as this was?”
I smiled again. She had me doing that a lot more often lately.
“I guess we’ll have to find out. I really don’t know—“
I was cut off by a knock on the door. She looked at me with questioning eyes, though I didn’t have an answer: I wasn’t expecting anybody. I excused myself, leaving her on the couch to open the door.
The second I did, I regretted it.
“Where’s my family photo album?”
I was taken aback. “What?”
“I can’t find my family photo album. Where is it?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen it in years,” I stumbled out, brows knitting together.
She scoffed, trying to push past me into my apartment.
“What are you doing? I didn’t take it,” I said, exasperation lacing my voice.
She stopped cold, staring at the woman on my couch. She turned to me, a hard anger on her face.
“You’re kidding me right now.”
I opened my mouth to respond, though I should’ve known I wouldn’t have gotten a word in.
“She’s here? In your apartment?”
“Calm down.”
“Calm down?” she asked, voice raising.
I huffed a sigh. “I have neighbors, Haley.”
She scoffed, turning to Y/N before I had the chance to stop her.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
She stood from the couch, glancing at me in utter shock and confusion.
“I’m sorry?”
Haley took another step in her direction.
“You’re unbelievable. First, he’s gone all of the time because of you, and now—“
“She has nothing to do with this,” I attempted.
“Now, you have the nerve to stick around? Alone in your boss’s apartment. You should be…”
“Excuse me?” Y/N said, finding her voice.
I stepped between the two of them, facing Haley.
“She didn’t do anything.”
“And of course, you’re still defending her. Keeping her around when you—“
“Stop.”
“No! You go and run around on me with this girl, and now you want to act like she’s a perfect little angel.”
Y/N moved to stand beside me. “Are you trying to imply he cheated on you?”
“Keep talking like you weren’t the reason,” Haley spat.
“He never cheated on you,” she said back, voice raising slightly. “Why on earth would you even think that? Especially with me?”
“I knew you were a whore the second I met you…”
“Get out,” I interrupted, moving between them again. If smoke wasn’t actually seeping out of my ears at that point, I’d be shocked. “I don’t have your album, and you’re not going to come in here and shoot off vile insults at my friends.”
“You’re a dick. You always have been.”
“Then leave.”
She scoffed again, giving me the dirtiest look she could conjure before stomping off, slamming the door behind her. I stood in silence for a moment afterwards, trying to calm my rapidly beating heart before I faced the person behind me. She rested a hand on my arm, though, calling my attention to her rapidly.
“Are you okay?” she asked, voice significantly softer than it was a minute ago.
I swallowed, turning to face her.
“I’m sorry. You didn’t—you don’t deserve that.”
“I just,” she stopped, sighing as she wrapped her arms around herself. “She really thinks you cheated on her?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“Damn. How…” she shook her head, then looked back at me. “How could she even think that?”
“That’s a long story.”
“Can we talk about it?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I muttered, moving around her to sit on the couch again.
“Aaron, she thinks I broke up your marriage.”
I paused, taking in the fact she used my first name. That had never happened before. I let out a slow breath, then nodded, patting the seat next to me. She sat down slowly, turning fully towards me.
“I, uh,” I started, looking at her. Just being with her felt grounding. “She cheated on me, actually. Never admitted it, but I knew. I was in the wrong so many times in our relationship, I won’t deny that, but…”
“You didn’t deserve to be cheated on.”
I nodded. “I know. I think she was just deflecting, especially after I found out. Once she gathered that I knew about it, she started accusing me instead.”
She was quiet for a moment. “I just don’t understand one thing. Why did she think I was the one you cheated with? I mean, like, did I do something to make her think that?”
“I think she needed someone else to be mad at. You were the easiest target.”
“Why?” she asked, furrowing her eyebrows.
I didn’t stop to think before I answered.
“You’re beautiful and very kind to me. She probably saw you and how you treated me, and I guess— She probably just thought if I’d fall for anyone, it would be you.”
She stared, letting my words sink in. I opened my mouth, ready to try to make amends for admitting something so personal. Though, of course, my phone started ringing at that moment.
I sighed, then picked up my phone to answer.
“Hotchner,” I stated in greeting.
She watched me, already knowing what the call meant.
“Be there soon, thank you,” I nodded, then watched as she got up, taking the dishes with her.
NEXT PART ->
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fanfiction#criminal minds fanfiction#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner x female reader#aaron hotchner fic#criminal minds#aaron hotchner angst#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner series#cowboy like me#the sweetest con
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dear reader - chapter 7
summary: Miguel took the reader’s love and friendship for granted. Something he learns reading her column, when it’s too late…Or is it?
ship: miguel o'hara x f!reader // matt murdock x reader
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Chapter 7
“Tell me about this friend of yours”, said doctor Octavius.
Ultimately, Miguel decided to follow Lyla’s advice. He was getting to a point where he would try anything to make the heaviness in his chest go away. Not that he would ever admit that to the people in his life.
Doctor Otto Octavius wouldn’t let that slide though. He was so traditional that the only option his patients had if they wanted to book a new session or communicate with him was by calling his secretary. No emails, texts or any online contact.
Miguel chose him because he was one of the best. Doctor Octavius used to be the head of the psychiatry department at Miguel’s alma mater and was highly respected in his field. The man refused to retire, opting to have fewer consultations per week. It was very exclusive. Lyla had to negotiate a very generous sum for him to see Miguel.
It was Miguel’s second session with the doctor. Miguel was seated on a dark mustard couch, holding a cream colored cushion on his lap, facing the psychiatrist, who was set on a dark brown leather chair. At first, the room annoyed Miguel, who felt it was pretentious — although he was incapable of explaining why when Lyla asked. But it grew on him. It was relaxing to be seated comfortably in peace, no notifications, calls or exterior world to worry about. It was a nice change from his insane routine.
“You’ve mentioned her a few times so far. Are you close?”
Miguel didn’t know what he was expecting from doctor Octavius, but the psychiatrist’s calm demeanor and soft voice surprised him.
“We used to be.”
“What changed?”
“I was a jerk and disappointed her…You see, she is great, really great, but I never paid a lot of attention to that, I just enjoyed spending time with her. And there was this one day when she really needed me and I wasn’t there for her.”
“What do you mean when you say you didn’t pay attention? To her, her gestures?”
“Both”, Miguel pinched his nose remembering the column about his birthday and the book you made for him. His heart sank when he thought about the gift. Miguel regretted a lot of things, but if he could go back in time, that was the day he would go back to. You were sweet and considerate and he threw the book somewhere — he had turned his place upside down, but never found it.
“She…has always been there for me, more than our other friends. She would do nice things for me and be supportive and I…I liked it”, Miguel analyzed the cushion on his lap, embarrassed to look back at the doctor. “I guess I never thought about what it meant for her or that I should reciprocate. I’ve never fully learned what friendships entail.”
“How about your other friends?”
“It’s not the same thing. I’ll meet Pav, Gwen and Hobie, hell, now even Peter, at the bar, we drink a lot and have some fun and then we all go home. We don’t exactly get into the deep stuff.”
“Would you be open to that if you had the chance?”
Miguel scratched his head.
“Discussing my feelings in public isn’t very…”
“Very what?”
“Manly.”
“We’re discussing your feelings right now. How does it feel?”
Miguel reached for the glass of water on top of the coffee table. During his first appointment with doctor Octavius, he had been so uncomfortable it made him irritable. There were times Miguel would stay silent instead of answering the psychiatrist’s questions. The doctor didn’t pry, though, and just waited. Afterwards, he felt so relaxed it made him sleepy. He hadn’t had a good night of sleep in years, but that day he did.
“It’s hard”, that was all he was able to say.
“And do you feel less of a man because of it?”, asked the doctor, crossing his legs and tilting his head.
Miguel was silent.
“Well, our time is up. We will return to this on your next appointment.”
***
You were the first in your group to arrive at the bar. You went straight to the counter and found Foggy cleaning his station. When he saw you, a smile and a funny look took over his face.
“What?”, you asked, laughing.
“I heard you went on a date so good you are about to go out with him again this weekend.”
“Oh, did you?”, you knew you were blushing, but you just felt so happy. “What else did you hear?”
“Well, I’m Switzerland, so there isn’t much more I can reveal…”
“Come on, now”, you rolled your eyes.
“What I will say is that you’re not the only one with a dumb smile. And I supposed it’s okay for me to reveal that the words ‘enchanting’ and ‘dream woman’ might have been mentioned…”
You covered your face, laughing. One date. You had only gone on one date with Matt. But it was indeed a fantastic night.
After dinner and dessert, he walked you back to your home. They said chivalry was dead, but apparently Matt Murdock didn’t get the memo. Before saying your goodbyes, he said:
“I really want to kiss you right now. Can I?”
He got closer to you, his hands on your hips, his nose almost meeting yours. You were about to melt when you came to your senses and turned your face, giving him a kiss on his cheek.
“Kisses are for the second date”, you whispered in his ear and separated from him and walked towards the stairs of your apartment building.
“In that case, when are you free?”
“Saturday night.”
“It’s a date”, he said, with a grin on his face.
“Yeah, well…I just wanted to thank you for setting us up”, you put your hands on the court to steady yourself, still recovering from your fit of laughter. “Regardless of what happens, I had fun. And God knows I needed fun.”
“The pleasure is all mine, I’m glad it worked out.”
You nodded.
“Okay, then, what is your order?”
“A dry martini and fries.”
“Fancy. Go sit, I’ll bring it to you.”
Thanking Foggy again, you went to your usual table. It was still empty, except for a leather jacket that you knew all too well on one of the chairs. Miguel was there. And you’d be alone with him. There was no way you were allowing that to happen. You were about to get up when you heard:
“Hi, cariño, arrived early today.”
[cariño: darling]
You felt chills with his voice. And the nickname that he used when he wanted something from you. You fell for it everytime.
“Hey”, you tried to control yourself as you sit again, brushing your hair from your face.
He sat next to you.
“Have you ordered yet?”, Miguel sounded cautious. Like he didn’t know where he stood with you.
It was better that way, you thought. Dealing with his confident and cocky self demanded a lot from you and you didn’t have the energy for that at that moment.
“Yes.”
“What did you get?”
Was he for real? Did he forget how to talk to people? That had never been a problem before, especially with women. Except Miguel never saw you in the same way he saw them. You had done your best the past few months to not dwell on your memories of him. At some point, it stopped hurting as much, which made you almost feel like you were over him. But being so close to him and remembering all the times he left you in the cold unveiled the seams of your wounds.
“The same as always”, you answered, knowing he wouldn’t know what you meant.
“Fries and a dry martini, then?”
Well, that was unexpected. However, your friend group has been coming to this bar for years, you ordered the same thing a million times. Maybe you were just so used to having to explain yourself over and over to Miguel that it surprised he had paid attention. Even a little bit of it.
You saw Foggy walking towards your table holding a tray with the drink and the fries. Never before have you been so grateful for an interruption.
“There you go, miss enchanting”, he teased, as he put your order in front of you. “Oh, hey, Miguel, how have you been?”
“Can’t complain.”
You closed your eyes for a moment. Why couldn't he just act like a normal person?
Foggy raised his eyebrows and his eyes found yours. You tilted your head with an apologetic look.
“Okay, then. Let me know if you need anything.”
Frowning, Miguel asked you:
“What is up with the miss enchanting thing? It’s that your new nickname?”
Before you could answer, Foggy, who was still in earshot from you, stepped in.
“It’s how one of her suitors reviewed a date with her”, said the owner of the bar, going back to the counter.
Miguel was silent, which, somehow, was even worse than him talking nonsense. He was focused on a napkin he was shedding. You pushed the bowl with the fries in his direction.
“I won’t be able to eat all of that alone.”
“Gracias.”
[gracias: thank you]
“De nada. Pendejo”, you mutter the last word. Your spanish was limited, but Miguel always throwed that word around whenever he was ranting about the executives at Alchemax.
[de nada: you’re welcome/pendejo: idiot]
“Don’t think I didn’t hear that, cariño.”
Miguel then winked at you. That did things to you, more specifically to your body. You wouldn’t fall for that, though, you couldn’t. You can’t go back to your pattern of holding on to every crumble of affection he gave you.
“Oh, shut up, just eat it!”
He chuckled.
“Where is everybody? We’ve been here for a while now."
Miguel got his phone from his jeans’ pocket and, tapping a few times, let out a “humpf”.
“They won’t come”, he said, using a shred of napkin to clean his phone’s screen.
“What?”
“There was a malfunction in the subway, they are operating with limitations, so the stations are full and the traffic is insane.” Looking at his phone, he adds: “Also, there might be a storm coming our way”.
“Ugh, great.”
You probably wouldn’t be able to get back to your place in time to avoid the storm. The only thing left to do was stay at the bar long enough for the storm to go away so you could get home.
“If we leave now and walk fast, we can get to my place before the rain starts”, Miguel got up, reaching for his wallet in his pocket.
“Migs, I think I’ll just wait here and then go home.”
“Cariño, the weather forecast is showing that the storm is going to last a while”, he put a few bills on top of the table. “Come on, get up, we have to go.”
“I’ll be fine here…”
“Cabezota, escuchame. You’ll be safer at my place, there's plenty to eat and if it comes to it, you can sleep there. Lyla picked a really comfortable bed for my guest bedroom.”
[cabezota, escuchame: listen to me, stubborn]
The idea of going back to his apartment, a place where every single wall and wooden floor said something about Miguel, was too much. He did have a nice guest bedroom, though. What concerned you was all the time leading up to that. The night had barely started. Being so close to him for so long wasn’t the best idea. But it was the only sensible one.
Everything happened so fast it took you a few moments to realize you and Miguel were running, his hand holding yours tightly. His other hand held your purse — you had completely forgotten about it.
You weren’t the only ones in a hurry: people were seeking places to escape the storm. Their movement got faster as a loud lightning appeared in the sky. The cars stuck in traffic were loud, taxi drivers screaming to other drivers, no one quite understanding why it was taking so long to get out of there.
When you were a couple blocks from Miguel’s house, a pack of dogs started running in your direction, just as desperate as you and him. They seemed to be led by a golden retriever that had a purple bandana around his neck. You looked at Miguel and both of you started laughing, running, holding hands, panting and laughing more and more, probably because of the adrenaline, but also because those dogs had a lot of personality.
A few drops of rain fell on your forehead. They quickly multiplied and yet another bolt of lightning struck. Miguel pushed your hand, forcing you to run as fast as he was, until you got to the building. Once inside, you were so light headed that you had to press your head against a wall as you waited for Miguel to unlock the door.
Thankfully, you were able to escape unscathed from the rain, so you took your shoes — that were definitely not made for running — and threw yourself on the couch. You were thankful to your past self that convinced Miguel to buy a comfortable couch for his home. His office, however, ended up with the most pretentious couch in the world — at the time, Miguel didn’t like what you said, but you remembered it made Lyla laugh a lot.
Miguel came back to the living room after going to the kitchen. He sat on the floor next to you, extending his arm offering you a water bottle.
“Mi casa es su casa, pero ya sabes de eso”, he mumbled.
[my home is your home, but you already know that]
“Thanks”, you grabbed it and raised your head just enough to drink. “Can we stay in silence for a little bit? We just had a sensory overload.”
“Uhm. I’d like that.”
The only noise you heard then was of the rain falling outside. The world was ending, but you found shelter nonetheless.
***
Dear reader,
What is the worst dating tip you’ve ever received? I start: every single one written in teen magazines. I distinctly remember subscribing to one that had a session where they asked boys what they thought about certain trends, what girls wear, etc. There is a specific one that was so silly that even my 15 old self thought “I’m too old for this shit”. The question had to do with nail polish and the colors they like or not on a girl. They destroyed pretty much all options except for french nails. As you probably already noticed, reader, I’m very passionate about the nail polish question. Especially because I read that in the very beginning of my life long obsession with black nail polish. It’s dark and, yes, maybe a little basic, but aren’t we all? It’s reliable, chic if you need to, casual if you want it to be.
Those boys were obviously clueless. But my point is we won’t get anywhere pretending to be someone we’re not. It’s cheesy in a Disney Channel movie type of way, but my best advice is: be yourself. Doing otherwise will only lead us towards frustration and heartbreak. Because you might be able to hide important parts of you for a long time, but not forever. Our true nature always finds a way to come out.
Sure, wear that cute pink top you bought online, do your hair and your make up if you feel like it, you can even wear heels if you want to. As long as you know that you don’t have to. In my experience, no one is going to like you more or less because of your black nail polish. And if they do, it means that they don’t deserve you.
Before I go, I do have another very important dating tip that can also serve a life tip in general: if you and your date go to eat hamburgers, hot dogs or any other type of sandwich, take two napkins and open them up. Fold them in half and then put them under the sandwich in a cross formation — one unfolded horizontally and the other, vertically. That way you reduce your odds of spilling any type of dressings on your outfit.
You're very welcome.
As always, never take advice from someone who’s falling apart.
Love,
The writer
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#dear reader fanfic#miguel o'hara fic#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#matt murdock fic#matt murdock#matt murdock x reader#unrequited love#second chance romance#Spotify
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