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webslingingslasher · 1 year

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ughhhh peter always being so oblivious. can’t even listen to his girlfriend when she’s right in front of him, practically begging him 😡 loved your most recent story 🩷🩷 (still can’t believe there’s finally a pink heart emoji)

was this supposed to be angsty? too bad, it's smutty.

*suggestive behavior and words, no real depictions of sex, sorry kiddos.

‘How do you tell someone you want them?’ No, no, wait… ‘How do you tell your boyfriend you want him?’

Wiki-how says to flirt with them, been there done that, message not received.

Teen Vogue just wants to give you ways to say ‘I love you,’ you’ve tried that too, you just get a declaration back.

Cosmopolitan says to be bold, ‘I want you inside of me,’ is a direct quote. Bold, sure. But with Peter? You’d think he’d collapse.

On Quora someone took the bullet, ‘how do I let my boyfriend know I want him to touch me?’ Ah, there it was, someone had to have a good answer. A man in his forties says dirty talk, your nose wrinkles. A young mom says, ‘just like that!’ An anonymous reply said to initiate fist, touch them where you want to be touched, but you can’t exactly squeeze Peter’s boobs.

You wonder if you told Ned he’d tell Peter, you can imagine that conversation.

‘Bro, Y/N just told me she wants you to like… use her body as a wonderland.”

“A what?”

Yeah, not a good idea either.

Even with a boyfriend, a super hot, charming, smart boyfriend, you were going to die a virgin.

Every attempt has fallen short, no matter how close you think you are from him finally getting the hint. Last week you had him between your legs, wrapped tight around his hips as you grinded up towards him, mouths refusing to break. And then, right when he finally, finally, moved his hips with yours and you moaned he pulled away and rolled off of you. That quick too, talk about a cold shower.

“Do you want me to show you how to do that thing now?” He was panting still, he looked over you flushed out and almost pulled himself back in, too dangerous, he had to use self control. Peter uses what strength he had to get off the bed, he’s already going to his computer, you didn’t get a choice, he chose for you, if he had asked you would’ve asked to ride his thigh.

“I’d rather you show me what your hands could do,” you mumble under your breath, you want to scream into his pillow and then hump it, does he not feel how frustrated you are? Peter hears you, he gives a chuckle, “they can help you is what, come watch,” he pats his arm rest on the chair.

You follow his instructions, still grumpy. “I’d rather they help me in a different way,” Peter flashes you a nervous smile, you make him lose his grip on reality. He makes sure you're watching as he clicks around, he’s giving you instruction but all you can think about is his hard thigh underneath you, his grip is tight around your waist, his palm that rests over your shirt radiates heat to the skin underneath. He’s driving you crazy.

You can’t help it anymore, you have to be blunt, it will be awkward for a second but so, so worth it in the end. “Peter, I want to-” A squeeze, an apology when his phone rings. Only three people call him, Ned, May and you, seeing as you’re on his lap that leaves two options.

“Hey, May. Oh yeah, no I don’t think so. Um, sure. Well, he didn’t say much but he did want, no, go ahead.” You look at the ceiling and curse, Peter’s thumb brushes your hip, he’s giving teasing touches and doesn’t even know it. “I dunno, hold on let me ask,” he pulls the phone from his ear, “baby?” You look at him, “staying for dinner?” You nod, he grins, “yeah she will… okay, yes ma’am, no problem. Okay, okay, okay, alright, okay, love you too, bye.”

“Is she at the store?”

“Yeah, think of anything you need?”

He clicks at the screen, “yeah, condoms.”

You jolt at his laugh, his chest pressed tight against your back, Peter snorts, “why would you need those?”

You stay silent and instead look at the screen and wait for him to continue his lesson, the bubble of want simmering.

—-------------------------------------

“Are you okay?”

Peter has to literally hold you back by your shoulders, he’s gasping for air, his curls frizzy and pulled around, his shirt unbuttoned three down from the top. You attacked him the second you got into his room, nearly throwing him onto the bed before straddling him and marking your territory.

You had been at it for a half hour, everytime he tried to stop you’d follow his movements and continue, he had no idea how you were keeping your breath. The only time he remembers you pulling away was to tug your shirt over your head before you immediately unbuttoned his collar and kissed down his neck.

“‘M great, are you?” you’re just as breathless as him.

He nods, “‘M good.”

You smile, “great!” Then go to meet his mouth, Peter turns his head at the last second, you connect with his jaw, you frown but accept any skin, you trail sideways and down, sucking at a spot near his collarbone. One hand grips your hip, one settles on your ribcage. He grunts and you skim your lips back to his mouth, he’s slower this time, like he’s trying to edge you down carefully, you don’t accept the change of rules and open into his mouth, he wont talk the bait.

You try again, you swipe at his bottom lip, he stays closed. Frustrated you grind down on him, he buckles but refuses to open his own mouth, last resort you bite down on his lip.

Peter pushes you off, “fuck, you’re insatiable.”

You look down on him, “why won’t you make out with me?”

His cheeks are pink, his lips are red and swollen, his pupils are blown out.

“You’re killin me, smalls.” Peter’s hands come to a rest on his stomach, they rise and fall with his breaths, “no matter what I do you want more.”

You nod enthusiastically, he’s starting to understand.

“Yes, so yes. What can you give me?”

His eyebrows furrow, he doesn’t know what you want.

“I don’t… what do you want?”

You grind down on his belt line, his hands shoot to your hips, this was new territory. You’ve just started to grind on him the past week and he still can’t fully process it, he’s never had a feeling like it before and he knows that he’s gonna get a hard on if you keep doing that, and that’s really new territory.

“Baby,” he groans the word but it’s a warning.

“This, can I have this?” You try to move again but his hold stops you, he’s using too much strength.

Peter doesn’t want to rush you, not at all. But these last few weeks have been hard, you’ve been much more open with your words and touches and god it kills him. He’s been thinking about sex, how could he not with you all over him, but he needs to hold out strength for the both of you, and god damn if you don’t make that difficult.

“If you keep doing that do you know what will happen?”

Are you okay with this, is what he means, because if you go down this path there’s no coming back, it’s a whole new step, he’s okay with that but are you?

You tilt your head at him, “I’ll cum?”

Peter exhales through his nose harshly, his voice pinchy, “jesus christ.”

“Is it okay if I take my bra off?” Your fingers were already behind your back, he’s been lucky enough to see them a few times but not in a situation like this one where he could get to inspect them and enjoy it. “If you want, but you don’t-” he stops speaking when you toss your bra to the ground.

“Wanna take your pants off?”

He looks at you, he’s fully clothed almost while you’re now sitting on top of him with only panties on, how did he get here? No pants means no more barriers, you wanted to feel him, all of him, when you dry humped him.

“Do you want my pants off?”

How does he not get it? You’re more than half naked on his lap begging for his touch, what did he think you wanted, a milkshake?

“Peter, where’s your mind at?”

“With what?”

You rub your eyes, frustration would do no good here. “I need to know where you’re at with this, cause i’ve tried everything to make it known you make me really fucking horny.” His eyes widened, it was like he had a revelation of ‘girls can be horny too?’ and yeah, he did know that they could but he never imagined he could make someone horny, even if it was his girlfriend. And maybe he did understand a little of what you wanted but he also thought you were joking, that you were hinting at a hookup teasingly but, no you were serious.

“I do?”

Well that didn’t sound good, did he not share the same feelings?

“I… Peter, do I even turn you on?”

The room spins, you’re on your back in a second, Peter holds your forearms to the bed. You couldn’t even take a breath in, that’s how quick he pinned you. He didn’t want you to think, for even a second, you didn’t turn him on.

“Don’t ever ask that again, you turn me on more than you could even begin to imagine.”

You giggle, “oh, do I? How much?”

He kisses your cheek, “cold shower every time you leave.”

“Then how come I never feel you get hard?”

Peter takes his turn kissing down your neck, he nibbles a matching mark to his on your collarbone. “Threw you off before you could.”

You hum when he nuzzles into your neck, he places a kiss to your cheek, you look at him over you.

“Does that mean you’ll take off your pants?”

He laughs, “yeah, baby. I’ll take off my pants.”

Peter sits back to pull his shirt off, you take a moment to appreciate his body. You always feel like you don’t compliment him enough, “you’re pretty,” the words fall from your lips and he grins shyly, his hands working at pants button, he’s about to shimmy them off but you stop him.

“Wait!”

Peter’s hands freeze, you nod at his hands, “can I do it?”

His hands fall away and you reach forward, tension thick the second you start to undress him. You never knew how heavy a moment could be until you had your hands in your boyfriend's waistline tugging them down, knowing it was so you could sit pretty on top of him and rock on his lap.

You rope a leg over his waist and take mount, already pressing into him further than you’ve ever been, you give a teasing roll of your hips, your eyes shoot open and Peter throws his head back with a groan.

You whisper at the same time, minds blown. “Woah.”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker blurb #tasm! peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #tasm!peter smut #tasm!peter x reader #peter parker fluff #my writing

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roturo · 6 months

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⋆⭒˚｡⋆₊ ⊹ CHAMPAGNE CONFETTI

₊˚⊹♡ I WANNA SEE IT IN MOTION! IN 3D! gojo satotu, geto suguru, nanami kento, yuta okkotsu, megumi fushiguro˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

tags: sexting, degradation, some of them have sub/dom dynamics, semi public arousal (?), sex videos (do not practice this irl), friends with benefits, established relationships, and more idk.

A/N: such a weird combination of jjk men lol

gojo satoru

he was tired and annoyed once he got to the hotel after killing some stupid curses that easily a grade 2 sorcerer could do the work– but oh how they have been insisting on him to continue doing missions this days. he swears it’s utahime’s fault to finally take control over the tokyo students and make them move to kyoto.

but the true thing is that he was also so pent up after spending a long time without you beside him, he would call it a day after taking a shower and lay in bed– but a notification on his phone stopped him before doing so.

1 attachment sent

i bought this new pair, it reminded me of your eyes, i miss you:(

and holy fuck- he swears if he wasn’t in just a pair of black briefs his cock would suffocate because of how fast he got hard– his hand immediately traveling trough and start working nicely to release the feeling. the pre-cum being more than enough to lubricate his cock and make it easier to jerk off– with one hand he opened up the camera and took a video before sending it to you.

sounds of whines and whimpers coming out of the video, making you immediately wet– a visible wet patch forming in your panties, he sounded so pretty– pretty enough to reply to him with another video of you coming –still with your panties on– by just rubbing yourself in the pillow.

“ah fuck it– someone else can take care of this mission”

geto suguru

he’s not a fan of it– he prefers having it in real motion in 3D– and he knows that because when you do send him some risky text or picture is just to piss him off– or maybe he likes to think you’re just a horny slut for him.

but fuck it, why he couldn’t be the horny slut just for once this time? just one time –that’s what he promised himself– the idea of you going out with your friends today, the dress you were wearing being a lil bit too much short for his liking –not wanting to be the type of boyfriend he wouldn’t let you wear whatever you want– and he knows other men will be seeing you and get hard just at the thought of you, so that’s why he needed you like right now.

1 attachment sent

wouldn’t u be so nice to come back home and help me relieve some stress? pls baby, i need you.

and this was surprising as fuck because geto was always so dominant, making you the needy one in the relationship, so this wasn’t an opportunity to waste.

send a video of yourself to show me how much you want me.

1 attachment sent

fuck, i’m typing with just one hand rn, all i can think of is your pretty lips around my cock.

you were in the restroom of the bar you decided to go out with your friends, core pulsing, surely there was a wetness coming out of you, trying to release some tension, you tried to find some friction by rubbing your thighs together.

i’m going back home baby, do not cum.

nanami kento

“you fucking horny needy slut.”

he exhaled, the words barely hearable– he had to re-adjust in the chair he was sitting on, pants suddenly too tight, tie not letting him breathe and time going lower this time.

“Nanami-san, are you feeling okay?”

he wouldn’t admit it outloud but he’s a fan of the risky texts you send him, edging him and make him eager to go back home as soon as possible– but right now, it would be nice if you didn’t send this in the middle of a fucking reunion he had with some clients. this time you wouldn’t be the only one playing silly games– he would take a quick photo of his growing erection in his pants, with no text, no emoji, no nothing. and the reunion was stressing him out, he was so pent up that he’s a millimeter from standing and leaving.

you knew that, you fucking knew he was in a reunion, but you still decided to desobey him and be a needy brat just to be fucked stupid. and ohh he wouldn’t fall for your silly games, he’s not angry, he’s actually pretty excited to get back home and just edge you till you fall apart in his arms begging for release.

he couldn’t wait.

yuta okkotsu

he’s BRIGHT RED. he was supposed to be focusing on whatever gojo-sensei was talking about, but the moment he opened up your message he expected everything else but this.

and he thinks this was an accident, but no way– the way your body looks, how good your tits looked, damn.

1 attachment sent.

why won’t you come and play with me instead yuta~ ;(

shit, he felt his cock throb and start growing inside his pants– it was so painful to see you like that and can’t have the real thing in 3D to touch, he swears he could just cum if you showed up in front of him like that-

“Are you okay Yuta?” Maki’s voice brought him back to reality, the sudden pain of his cock searching for release becoming a little bit too much to bear– he needed to do something right now.

He excused himself to the restroom, clear erection showing on his pants– praying to god no one saw it, a wet patch forming in it thanks to the amount of pre-cum he was leaking right now.

1 attachment sent

lewd sounds came from the video; panting, whimpers, and moans saying your name– you never thought he would answer back, fuck- you even thought this was going to ruin your relationship with yuta, but holy fuck.

there he was, fucking his fist in the bathroom at the image of you, sudden cum painting the mirror, loud whimpers came out of him, telling you how much he needed your little pussy wrapped around his cock–

I’m going to your dorm rn, cant wait anymore

megumi fushiguro

okay. you were supposed to be only friends but god damn. he swears it was the time– suddenly the texts turned more risky and now you’re sending him a video of rubbing yourself with your pillow with his shirt.

and he was never this eager to cum, biting the lower part of his shirt so he could keep his moans back and not wake up Yuuji in the other group (plus he was way too needy to take his shirt off), phone on the other hand on a video call with you while he shows the lewd image of himself fucking at your own movements between a screen.

fuck gojo-sensei, why did he had to send him on a mission? he needs to see you like that but instead of a pillow being the thing you’re rubbing your pussy into, it needs to be his cock instead.

“Ah- ffuck…” small sounds calling out your name came from megumi’s mouth, almost audible thanks to the shirt preventing him from moaning out loud, “sshit, i just wanna be back to see you and touch you baby, i know you won’t regret this.” strips of cum coming out of him, the view making you dizzy and helping you reach your own high too.

#gojo satoru smut #geto suguru smut #nanami kento smut #yuta okkotsu smut #megumi fushiguro smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru #geto suguru #nanami kento #megumi fushiguro #yuta okkotsu #megumi smut

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macfrog · 9 months

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illicit affairs

cowboy like me chapter eleven

howdy everyone it's me again 🤠 latest chapter of cowboy like me is now yours. do with it as you wish. love u all so much. see ya soon x

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: your relationship with joel is getting harder and harder to hide, especially when a surprise visit from your dad threatens to spoil your romantic weekend

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) reader is a lil hungover, gluten bagels, lots of LIES, reader and joel being horny devils, gene kelly, unprotected piv sex, sex tape, praise kink, fluff, cockwarming, angst!!! and pain!!!!, reader and joel fight, cheating....??, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing

word count: 8.4k

series masterlist | main masterlist

You wake in the same position you fell asleep in just hours ago: curled up in Joel’s bed, the curve of his body safely encasing yours. His lips are still by your ear, breath gentle against your lobe. You lean over to lift your phone from the nightstand.

8:14. You’ve had less than four hours’ sleep.

Below the time there’s a text message, sent a couple hours ago.

Dad: Remember to take the trash out before you pass out kiddo. Hope you had a good night 👍

Well, that was never happening, was it? As far as your dad knows, his best friend had picked you up from Frank’s and given you a ride home. Probably walked you to the house on his steady arm, made sure you downed a glass of water before seeing you off upstairs to bed. Polite. Respectful.

Of course, your dad is blissfully unaware that, in actual fact, at 6AM you were in said best friend’s bed, pressed up against him, no clothes between you, fast asleep. Definitely not making sure the trash was out.

The bright screen burns into your eyes as you squint at the notification below his text, decorated with alarm emojis – your way of ensuring you remembered to get back before him. DAD HOME stares back at you ominously, eventually persuading you to push yourself up off the mattress, loosen Joel’s lazy hold on your waist, and slip out of bed.

Joel, still asleep, rolls across your side of the bed onto his stomach when you sit up, sighing into your pillow as you prop yourself on the edge of the bed. You sit for a minute, dumb smile wide across your lips with no one to conceal it from, staring at him. Studying every part of him in his content, sleepy state.

The sharp curve of his jawline, the flecks of gray through his beard. The soft brush of hair falling on his forehead, deep brown curling just above his eyebrows. His toned shoulder, round and strong, flexing some with the grip his arm has around your pillow. His face buried in the cotton, breathing you in.

You jump when your phone starts vibrating in your hand, pad across to the door and slip out, closing it gently behind you.

“Hello?” you whisper.

Your dad’s voice is like a foghorn in your hungover ear. “Mornin’, kiddo! Wake ya?”

You wince, clutching your forehead as the quick movement from Joel’s bed to his hallway catches up with your aching brain. “Mighta done, yeah.”

He chuckles. The car hums in the background while he talks, meaning he yells even louder to compensate. “I’m about an hour out, thought I’d bring in some breakfast. You want anythin’?”

“I’m good with whatever. You’ll be back soon?”

“Nine-thirty or so, looks like. Why?”

“Nothin’, just wondered. I’ll see you in a bit, then.”

“Hey, d’you take the trash out?”

“Uh, I can’t– You’re breakin’ up, there, Dad, I’ll see you when you get home. Alright, cool, see ya then, bye.”

You cut his babbling voice and hang up, clutching the phone to your chest, close your eyes and exhale. When you swing back into the room quietly, Joel’s still sleeping.

You slip back into your dress and pull your boots on, scanning the room for your panties. No sign of them, though, and it’s not like you got all the time in the world to search. They’re probably underneath Joel’s deadweight body, anyway.

You tiptoe over to the side of the bed and crouch, kissing his neck softly.

He stirs, hand lets go of the pillowcase and finds yours, intertwining your fingers sleepily.

“I gotta go, baby,” you whisper, running your fingers through his unkempt hair.

His voice mumbles into the cotton, deep and groggy. You catch the tail end of his sentence: “…give you a ride.”

“No,” you reply, laughing a little as you sweep hair from his forehead. “I’m good, I’ll walk. You sleep. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Text me when you’re…home…”

The words barely pass through his lips as he begins to drop off again, and you kiss his head before straightening up, grabbing your bag, and heading downstairs.

You dip into the kitchen before you go, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. You’re fucking parched. Hungover, exhausted, you roll the freezing cold bottle across your forehead. It does little to soothe the throbbing pain, but it takes the edge off of it for a few seconds before you’re slinging the bottle under your arm and searching through Joel’s cupboard.

You steal a bagel. Feels kinda hard, probably a day past its best, but it’ll do. You set off, picking at the dry bread as you walk, holding it between two fingers as you gulp at the water.

It’s the blandest walk of shame that ever happened.

Twenty minutes later and you’re pushing through your front door, fucking drenched in sweat. Your jacket’s tied around your waist, leather hot and stiff. You toss your keys on the kitchen counter and collapse into the couch, letting your heartrate settle and waiting for the room to stop pulling in and out of focus.

Your head is pounding now, your throat feels like sandpaper. Your body aches, though if you’re honest with yourself, you’re not sure that’s just from the hangover.

Once you’re in a fitter state, pulse no longer beating through your eyeballs, you head upstairs and tears your clothes off to jump in the shower. You keep it on a low heat, only warm, and it soothes your skin and flushes the smell of alcohol, sweat, and Joel down the drain.

You’re back in the kitchen, hunched over the counter nursing a coffee, when your dad waltzes through the front door. You lift your towel-wrapped head from your hand and look up.

“Well, hello,” he calls. “I notice ours is the only house in the street with no tra–”

“How was your trip?” you cut in, eyes screwing shut.

“Ha. Good. Nice drive, up that way. I got us bagels. Want one?”

Sometimes it’s like some twisted fucker is sat writing this comedy into your life. He brought home bagels? After you just choked one down walking home in the blistering heat? Whatever, dude.

“Thanks,” you mutter flatly against your mug, reaching out for the paper bag he’s offering.

Your dad lifts his own bagel, takes a huge bite, then looks up at you and gives an enthusiastic thumbs up. When you bite into yours, you’re…less enthusiastic. It does taste better than the dry one you just had, though. The cream cheese helps.

“I, uh…I’ll be headin’ out again soon,” you tell him.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Staying at Anna’s tonight,” you lie, setting your coffee down. “Said we’d have a pool day.”

He nods, mouth full of food. “Sounds nice, kiddo. Nice day for a tan. Hey, uh, how was Joel?”

You almost choke on your bagel. “Wh-what?”

“Joel. He alright?”

You shrug, picking at the bread. Unable to meet your dad’s eye. “I dunno. Why don’t you ask ‘im? I don’t know how he is.”

He stares at you. Brows knit, a line between them pointing upward. “I was just wonderin’…since he…He did pick you up last night, right?”

Oh, fuck.

“Oh,” you bat a hand, tucking it back under the counter when you notice it trembling. “Oh, right. I thought you meant this morning. Yeah, he was fine. He…Yeah. Fine.”

“Uhuh,” your dad nods, eyes narrow.

You don’t have the energy or the brainpower to be convincing. Not right now. There’s alcohol still drying up in your blood, muscles still tight from that fucking hike home, and your mind isn’t even in the room with your dad right now. It’s elsewhere – wrapped up in Joel’s bedsheets with him.

“I hope you didn’t keep him up too late.”

“It was, like, 2AM or somethin’. Wasn’t so bad. He said he was up watching TV anyways. So.”

He seems to believe this – swallows it down with the last few bites of his breakfast. You continue chatting, covering over your blunder like packing dirt back into a hole in the earth, conversation drifting from how your girls night went, to how his trip was, to an awkward apology for ‘forgetting’ the trash. He won’t let that go, will he?

But it’s short-lived. Soon, you both fall into silence, and the air between you feels muggy. Thick with lies and secrecy. Things you can’t say – I wanted a McDonald’s, but Joel wouldn’t budge, then I caught him watching Grey’s Anatomy, did you know he’s only slept with ten – I mean nine people?

Your dad glances up a few times, studies your face. You hide behind your bagel, guilt and shame across your cheeks like a wine stain. But he only smiles pleasantly, until he’s throwing the last bite into his mouth and rubbing his hands together, announcing he’s going for a shower.

“I’ll take your bag to your room,” you crumble the paper wrapped inside your fist, toss it across to him, “I gotta pack anyways.”

“Thanks, kiddo,” he says, patting your back as you pass him.

You don’t look back when you lift the leather straps of his bag and lug it upstairs.

It drops from your clutches with a thud at the foot of his bed. And then you’re quite literally skipping through to your own room, grabbing a black tote from your closet and blindly tossing clothes into it. A spare t-shirt, underwear, socks. Who gives a fuck what you pack? You’re going to Joel’s – the clothes will probably last five minutes on your body before you’re peeling them off again.

One thing you do take time picking is your bikini, opting for a red strappy one. Your old roommate once told you it made you look like you were in an episode of Baywatch. Which, y’know, seems like Joel’s kinda thing.

Your dad’s stood by his bed, hair damp from his shower, unpacking his bag when you emerge from your room.

“That you leaving your old man?” he asks with a tut, folding a t-shirt onto the mattress in front of him.

You wander through, sweet smile on your face, and kiss his cheek. “See ya tomorrow.”

“Have fun, honey.”

And then you’re gone. Straight back to Joel’s.

You’ve been away a couple hours, if that, but when you wander up his driveway, he’s not home. He keeps a spare key under a plant by his door, so you let yourself in. Sink back into his couch, throw on an old episode of Love Island while you wait. Twenty minutes later, his truck pulls up and he shoulders the door open, grocery bags in his arms.

“Hi, baby,” he says, leaning down to kiss your head as he passes.

You switch the TV off and follow him through to the kitchen to help him unpack, rocking into his side as you empty the bags with a giggle.

“He ask?”

You shake your head, chewing on a Twizzler.

“Nothin’? Really?”

“Didn’t really give him time to,” you reply. “Had breakfast, grabbed my stuff, left. And I parked a couple streets away, just on the off-chance.”

Joel looks down at you with a hesitant smile on his lips. He steals the Twizzler from between your teeth and puts it in his own mouth.

“Dick,” you mumble, and he chuckles quietly.

“You know, darlin’…all this lyin’, covering our tracks, I…”

“Joel,” you lean into him, standing on your tiptoes to peck his lips. “I don’t care. There’s nowhere else in the world I wanna be. Just with you. He’ll find somethin’ to do, you know he will.”

He gazes at you for a few seconds, eyes flitting back and forth between yours. You lean your head back and his arm snakes around your waist, squeezing you into his side.

“Trouble,” he mutters, taking a six-pack of beer over to the fridge.

----------

The summer sun blazes down over Joel’s backyard, and the pair of you spend the afternoon by his pool, keeping cool by having a dip every now and then. The red bikini is, as it turns out, a hit: Joel can’t keep his eyes – or his hands – off you, anytime you push up off your lounge chair and slink over to the pool edge, slipping in beside him.

You lock your arms around his neck, legs lazily draped over his hips as he floats you both through the water, and turn your head to the sky; eyes shut, the inside of your lids bright red with the sun screaming down through them. Joel idly kisses your chest, lips curving around your collarbones.

“I like this,” you say, looking down at him. Droplets run down the ends of his dark hair, beads of water rolling down his temples. “I could get used to it.”

“Wish we could,” he replies, bucking you up under his forearms. “I like it, too.”

It feels nice, if a little bit of an ache. Hearing him talk like that. Everything you two ever say, no matter how thick with sincerity, is laced with threat. Wish we could. Because you never will be able to get used to it, right? Something will always be swimming underneath you, a black shadow that disappears whenever you attempt one good glance at it.

Something always threatening to spill your secrets. Something threatening to blow everything apart.

Joel lifts a hand to cup the back of your head and pulls your lips down to meet his, moving backward until his back hits the wall of the pool. Your teeth pick up his bottom lip, tongue slips past into his mouth, and he groans, smiling into the kiss.

You begin to feel him harden under his trunks, and you grind your core against him.

“Inside?” he breathes between kisses.

“Mhm,” you whine, and he drags you out of the pool back into the house.

You spend the entire day following a pattern: eat, chill, tease, fuck. Eat, chill, tease, fuck. As the sun begins to melt behind the trees lining Joel’s backyard, you’ve spend more time on your knees, underneath, or on top of Joel than you have actually tanning.

Can you blame yourselves? Whenever you get alone time with no risk of being caught, it’s hard to keep your hands off one another. With no reason to keep quiet or hidden, you can fuck around all you want without a care in the world, right?

Right.

You order pizza, laze in the slow-dying sun to eat it, talking about nothing and everything before one of you steers the conversation and, before you know it…your bikini bottoms are pushed to the side, or otherwise torn from your body.

Eat, chill, tease, fuck. It’s too easy.

When the yard is finally drowned by dusk, Joel grabs some blankets and you spend the evening on his couch, talking some more and then deciding which movie to watch. You’ve never seen Singin’ in the Rain. Joel takes obscene offense to this fact.

“What kind of film student ain’t seen Singin’ in the Rain?”

“We actually did study it for one of my classes,” you mutter, tossing popcorn into your mouth. “Flicked through the important parts. Wasn’t my thing.”

“Well, you gotta watch the whole film. It’s a classic. Won at the Oscars ‘n everythin’.”

His enthusiasm almost makes you hold back – the way he’s sat on the edge of his seat, twisted around to chastise you properly for your ignorance of musical film. This could be the most animated you’ve ever seen him – over Gene Kelly. So, you almost bite your tongue.

Almost.

“Didn’t it…famously get nothing?”

His face sours in a heartbeat. Expression drops like a sack of bricks. He turns away from you and throws himself back into the couch, grumbling. “Alright, smartass. Watch it, and we’ll talk after.”

“I’m just sayin’, it–”

“We’ll talk. After.”

It’s still not your thing. For a multitude of reasons, but the newest one, the most difficult of all to let go: you can’t get the way Joel spoke out of your mind.

Just shut you right up, didn’t he? With three flat words, and a look in his eye that warned you not to push him. But fuck, you want to. You want to make him talk. Now.

Fifteen minutes into the film, you sit forward and swipe his phone from the coffee table.

“What are you doin’?” he asks in that monotone voice, the one he always uses whenever you’re pissing him off. Whenever you’re…getting to him.

“Bored,” you state, thumbs tapping in his passcode. You’ve been around him enough by now, studying every little move he makes, to just absorb dumb little things about him like the fact that his passcode is 0908, because those are the three numbers his thumb can reach easiest.

The phone clicks open and your eyes dance over the screen, deciding which app to load first.

Joel says your name. Just once. But it’s enough.

You angle your head in his direction. Bat your eyelashes.

“Enough. Watch the damn movie, would ya?”

Your head rolls back around to his phone. You click the photos app.

Joel curses under his breath, shaking his head and turning back to the screen. His eyes are boring into the pixels, mumbling things you’re too busy scrolling through his camera roll to listen to.

It’s mostly screenshots. Contracts, invoices, receipts. Boring Joel stuff. There’s the odd photo of his backyard, a few where the sunset rips across the tops of the trees in a fiery glow. They’re a little tilted, a little off balance. You smile at his attempt at photography.

“You gotta learn how to straighten your pictures, dude.”

“Took that for you,” he utters through a mouthful of popcorn. “Thought you’d like the sky with the trees in front, ‘n all.”

“Coulda text me it,” you say, letting him swipe through the photos to show you, each one from a slightly different angle to get more of the trees in, crop the pool out, hide the horrendous rosebush his neighbor has creeping over his fence.

He shrugs, pulling his hand away. “Musta been distracted by all the dumb stuff you send me.”

“Fine, no more funny videos. You’ve done it now, Miller.”

He chuckles and his attention turns back to the film. You’re slowly creeping further back through his pictures – measurements for something he’s building, different thicknesses of lumber propped against each other under the fluorescent light of Home Depot. And then –

You recognize the huge arching window first. Sunlight casting across a white tablecloth, polished cutlery shimmering. The velvet curtains in the background, and the made-up diners dotted around behind you and Sarah, both grinning into her phone camera.

“When did you…?”

Joel’s lips press the crown of your head. “Saw her gettin’ her phone out ‘n thought it’d be a nice picture from that angle, too.”

“Joel…” you breathe, eyes stuck on the image of your swollen cheeks, more centered in the frame than Sarah’s brown curls.

Your thumb swipes once and there’s a second photo: Sarah’s arm is lowered, she’s typing out her caption. You’re still smiling, looking over her shoulder as she selects the perfect cocktail of emojis.

She’s barely in the frame. It’s all you. Only you.

“I can’t believe you,” you whisper, limp hands dropping the phone to your stomach.

“’s just a photo, baby.”

And he’s right. Or – he’d be right, if it weren’t the only two photos of a human being in his entire camera roll. The only person he deems worth taking a picture of. The only one, in amongst trees, and emails, and wooden planks. The things that make up Joel, in your mind. His work, his home, and…you.

As quick as the thought delights you, it’s already terrifying you. Thrill barging through your veins, competing with fear to shock through your system the hardest.

“Alright,” you mutter, switching to his camera app and turning the phone to aim at him, “just a photo.”

You watch on the screen as he gives you a telling glance, holds his hand up to block the lens, and says, “Baby. Will you put that–? Hey. Watch the damn movie, now.”

“No,” you reply, avoiding his palm to snap a picture of his face. You twist in your seat until you’re at a ninety-degree angle to him, your feet in his lap, pulling a cushion to swipe at his attempts to grab the phone. “No, c’mon. We gotta fill your camera roll with more ‘n just contracting stuff.”

“Oh, do we?”

“Yeah.”

Your thumb swipes to video mode, hitting the bright red button and giggling when Joel’s deadpan face turns to watch you behind his phone.

“Quit – it,” he chuckles, swatting the phone from his face.

“You wanna watch a movie, maybe I wanna make one.”

His stare darkens. A smirk pulls at the corners of his lips. You hear it how he heard it seconds after, and you mirror his expression.

“Enough,” he tells you again, voice low, but it’s less of a telling as it is…a warning.

You put the phone down. Lock it, slide it across the couch to Joel. Silent. Giving him the choice.

His fingers lock around it, clicking the button to light the screen back up. He studies it for a second, deliberating, and then leans forward, setting it on the coffee table.

When you turn to look, the phone is sat on its side, screen reflecting back the image of the two of you; Joel, sat upright in the couch, and you, strewn out beside him. The oversized shirt you’re wearing has ridden up past your underwear, pooling on your stomach.

He’s staring at you. You can see it in his phone. You turn to look back, and he lifts his palm. Ball’s back in your court.

“Turn the TV off,” you mutter. You’re not fucking him with Singin’ in the Rain in the background.

He keeps his eyes on you, reaching for the remote. The screen cuts to black.

“Sure you wanna–?”

“C’mere,” you cut in, tossing the cushion and pulling him into you when he moves.

Somewhere between Joel leaning down on top of you and taking a grip of your hair in his hands, he presses the record button. The tiny ding sound shines a spotlight on you that lights your skin with nerves, a little bit of embarrassment, but…thrill. Excitement. Arousal.

Joel grinds his hips into yours and you both moan, your head falling back to allow him room to bruise your neck with his lips. His fingers knead roughly into the soft skin around your hips, pressing divots into your waist, sneaking their way up to cup your tits.

And then you’re turning, craning your neck to watch yourselves on his phone screen. Joel’s lips on your neck, his hands beneath your shirt.

He lifts his jaw for two seconds, coming up for breath and noticing your gaze.

“You wanna watch it, baby?”

You laugh in response, nodding when he turns your jaw to look at him.

In two seconds, you’re on your front, flipped by Joel’s hands. He takes your hips and lifts them, lining them with his own. You cross your arms and rest your chin atop them, watching in the reflected image as he slips his tee over his head and pulls your ass back to meet his stiff crotch.

Both of your heads are just cut out of shot. Yours at the left-hand side of the screen, and Joel’s at the top. The only recognizable traits are your hair and his beard. Those – and the sounds escaping your lips.

He wastes no time undressing you. Just lets your tee fall down your spine to your shoulders, pushes your panties to the side, and tugs his sweatpants low enough that he can comfortably slip inside you.

It’s sloppy. And quick. It barely lasts five minutes. As far as sex tapes go, it’s a pitiful attempt. But it’s hot – pretending that someone might fucking see it one day, see you and Joel, arguably doing what you do best.

And it’s even hotter seeing it from a different angle; feeling the stretch of him inside you, and watching it happen in real-time on his phone. Thinking of him rewatching it once the weekend’s over, his cock in his fist, shooting cum all over his belly.

Joel thrusts into you, pulling your ass back until you’re swallowing every inch of his cock. Your fists ball and you bite down on your arm to counter the shallow pain of him deep inside you, groaning with pleasure.

“Fuck,” he whispers from behind, slipping back only halfway and pushing in again.

You breathe a laugh, whispering, “Harder,” and he listens.

His hips crack against yours, a whimper calling from your lips, knees slipping further apart on the leather beneath you to accommodate the fucking size of him.

“Yeah? You want it harder, pretty girl?”

“Mhm,” you whine, bottom lip between your teeth.

He picks up the pace, pushing deeper every time your ass comes into contact with his hips. His skin slaps against yours, squeals of delight and pleasure cutting from your throat with each movement he makes.

Your hand slips between your legs, fingers run quick circles over your clit.

“Good girl,” he grits, “make yourself feel good, baby.”

You whine his name, forehead flat against the couch cushion as he fucks you, pleasure building between your legs like a tornado, tightening, tightening, tightening.

And then you’re being hauled up from the couch, flat against Joel’s body, cock still buried deep inside you. His hand replaces yours, his fingers on your clit, rubbing faster and harder than you think you can take.

He’s whispering in your ear like he always does. Saying everything he knows you like to hear. You’re a good girl, you’re his girl, you’re taking him so well. It’s desperate, and messy, and you know you’re both just racing to the finish line, aching for the relief that only you two know how to bring to one another.

And you cum, hard, fighting against his hold in a desperate attempt to fall flat against the couch. Joel keeps you upright, fingers slowing on your aching cunt as you clench and squeeze his cock, your orgasm ripping through your body.

He lets go of you, settling you on all fours in front of him before he pulls out, spilling all over your back.

You sink lower, ass still in the air, tits pressed against the cool leather of the couch as his warm cum slowly trickles down your spine.

Joel groans, a deep, guttural groan, still holding his cock between your ass cheeks as he stills, watching every rope of cum coating your back.

You catch your breath, panting mixed with laughing, and turn, rolling over and staring up at him. He leans back over, grabs the phone, and stops recording.

“Fuck…” you breathe.

“Fuck,” Joel agrees.

You laugh again, the last of your energy going into taking his shoulder and pulling him down against your body as he examines the footage. Tender kisses along his neck, dipping between his collarbones, listening to the grunts and groans from the speaker by your ear.

“Jesus, darlin’,” Joel breathes, eyes never leaving the screen. “We’re a fuckin’ mess.”

Your head tilts back with laughter, and Joel’s lips ghost across your throat. “We are not,” you finally reply, taking hold of the phone and scrolling quickly through the video. “I liked that part,” you turn it to show him your bodies held to one another by Joel’s strong arms.

“Yeah?” he asks behind a chuckle. Then he takes the phone from your hands, locks it, and tosses it to the other side of the couch, pulling you up into his arms until you’re sat on his lap, noses brushing against one another. “I liked all of it.”

“I like all of you,” you say, and he presses his lips to yours.

Joel kisses you gently, running his hands under your shirt and across your back, still covered in his release. He presses you closer to his body, almost painfully, as if the cotton of your shirt, the skin of your bodies, the cages of ribs inside are all keeping you too far apart from him.

You pull your jaw from his, run two delicate fingers across his lips.

“Don’t go fallin’ in love, cowboy,” you whisper.

----------

Joel carries you to his room just after midnight – sun-kissed, chlorine-coated, fucked-out, exhausted. He slips into bed behind you, curling his body around your frame, and, when his leg lifts to slot between yours, your hand stops it.

“No?” he asks, head lifting.

“Don’t want your thigh,” you mumble.

“How come?”

“Want you to…want somethin’ else.”

Joel understands without another word. He kisses your shoulder once, then takes your hips in both hands and pulls your ass to his front. You feel him pull the elastic of his underwear, stroke himself a couple times, and then push his tip in.

You gasp when he enters you – half-hard, slow, but even still. You’ll never get used to the feeling of him filling you, of his body connecting with yours, of him knowing and feeling you this intimately. Knowing and feeling you more intimately than anyone in your life ever has. Ever will, maybe.

When you’re full of him, he steadies. You scoot your hips back a little, and he growls in your ear.

“Careful, pretty girl.”

“Just gettin’ comfy,” you sleepily sing, almost teasingly.

He snakes one arm under your neck, cradling your head in the crook of his elbow. The other lies lazily over your waist. A satisfied sigh runs from his lips past your ear. He sounds and feels the most relaxed you’ve ever known him to be.

And you wish you could say the same.

Your eyes close over, heavy and tired, but you don’t fall asleep as quick as Joel. Something’s tugging at your heart. Something solid, that drags it down to the bottom of your stomach, and pools like ice water there. Something that nips at your lungs, stealing breath from you whenever you think too hard about it.

Something you’ve been patting down, stamping out with your foot every time the flame relights. And suddenly it feels as though the entire room just caught fire from under you.

Sheer exhaustion sends you off to sleep, with dreams of conversations and confessions you’re sure would never happen. Could never happen.

Should. Never. Happen.

----------

Warm water pours down over you, soaking your hair and chasing down your shoulders, your arms, past your breasts and over your stomach. You grab some more of the shampoo you’d stolen from Sarah’s bathroom and lather it up, covering your hair in it and drowning yourself under the water again.

Joel’s bathroom is one of three in his house; Sarah’s is slightly roomier, and the guest bathroom has the best water pressure, but you don’t care. Something inside you goes wild knowing you’re naked and washing in Joel Miller’s shower, even though you two have been fooling around for almost a month now.

You’re busy relishing over how perfect the last couple of days have been, wondering what breakfast Joel’s cooking up downstairs when the bathroom door bursts open.

“Hey,” he says, pulling on the shower door. “Out.”

“Huh?” you reply, eyes screwed shut, hair covered in soapy bubbles.

“I said get out. He’s here. Your damn dad’s here.”

Joel reaches around you and hands you a towel as he pulls you out of the cubicle and quickly wrings your hair for you. In a daze, you throw his tee over your shoulders and take his hand, following him out of the shower room and across his bedroom to the closet.

He turns you, hands tight on your shoulders, and ushers you inside.

“What’s he doin–?”

“I got a leaking pipe. He was passin’ by, dropped in to take a look. You stay here, do not make a sound, you hear?”

He closes over the slatted door gently, and you peer through the wood with narrow eyes. You hear footsteps approaching, your dad’s unmistakable chortle as the bedroom door is pushed open again and Joel shows him to the leaking pipe.

“Somewhere under there,” he mutters, hands resting on his knees to point to the space underneath his sink. “Had a look myself, tried some stuff, but it ain’t for fixin’.”

“Let’s have a look,” your dad bends down, groaning when his bad knees reach the tile. He’s almost shoulder deep under Joel’s cabinet, flashlight on, when Joel steals a glance in your direction.

He shakes his head, holding a hand up. Stay quiet.

He gives the room a quick scan, frantic eyes searching for any evidence of your being there. He swivels on the spot, twisting behind himself, noticing your cell on the nightstand at the same time you do.

Joel leans back, feet still rooted to the carpet, and fishes the phone between two fingers, slipping it into his back pocket. You breathe a sigh of relief.

“Ah!” your dad exclaims, and Joel shoots straight back around. “It’s your trap.”

“Is that right? I had a look at it.”

“Mhm. Is your eyesight failin’? Look at this, son.” Your dad’s hand reaches blindly behind him into his toolbox and grabs a wrench. “Just the joint’s loose.”

Joel grumbles in response.

You hear the squeak of metal as your dad tightens the pipe and then the clank of his wrench being thrown back into his toolbox. With maximum effort – thanks to his bad joints – he straightens back up alongside Joel, who thanks him.

“Better be the last of my issues.”

“Ha! So little faith in me, ol’ boy. Anyway. I’ll get out of your hair. That’s a mighty good smell comin’ from your kitchen, don’t wanna hold you back from enjoying it.”

“Oh, yeah. Thanks,” Joel says, and you can see him trying to usher your dad out.

But your dad, though you love him, is kinda fuckin’ annoying.

“Anyone special?”

“Huh?”

“You, cookin’? Naw. ‘s gotta be for someone good. Anyone comin’ over for a breakfast date? A…receptionist from a plant hire, perhaps?”

Joel’s eyes squint as he looks your dad up and down, taking his bottom lip under his teeth. “Nope,” he grumbles after a beat, with one shake of his head.

Your dad laughs a little, and then looks to something behind Joel’s back.

“Nice hat,” he scoffs, pointing a finger.

Joel doesn’t reply for a few seconds. You know he’s having the same realization you’re having: your cowgirl hat is hooked over the corner of his headboard.

He laughs. Nervously. Though maybe only you can hear that.

“Yeah, uh…yeah.”

“Looks a hell of a lot like a hat my daughter has.”

“Yeah?” Joel asks, sensing the same accusatory tone you do. Your forehead falls into your palm, hearing the almost pissed-off tone in which he asks, “And what would your daughter’s hat be doin’ in my bedroom?”

For fuck’s sake, Joel. Subtle, much?

“No, no,” your dad’s almost protesting, “I ain’t meanin’…” He sighs. “You know what I meant. Alright, I’m gone. I’m outta your hair.”

His boots recede down the hallway, then downstairs. Your breath doesn’t come back until you hear his car door slam shut, and the tires drive off.

When Joel pulls the closet door back, you’re still stood, towel in your hair, head in your hands. You can’t even look at him.

He doesn’t say anything like you expect him to. No, Sorry, baby, I didn’t know he was comin’. No, Come get breakfast, I’ll make it up to you.

He just wanders off back downstairs, leaving you to get dressed by yourself.

When you enter the kitchen, he’s plating up pancakes and drizzling them in syrup just the way you like. You pass him and run a hand over his shoulder blades, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t even flinch.

When you sit at the table, he puts the plate down in front of you. Silently. Then sits across from you.

You watch his every move. He picks up his knife and fork, and begins cutting into his own breakfast. Staring down at the plate. Then out of the kitchen window to the backyard. Then back to the plate.

You give his calf a light kick under the table, and his eyes lift, but only to your plate.

“You gonna eat?” he asks. Toneless. Less emotion than he talked to your dad with.

Without a word, you pick up your cutlery and start on your own pancakes, though your appetite suddenly disappears.

He made them with banana – your favorite – but the way he’s being with you right now, they taste sour and dry. You chew your way through as much as you can until you’re staring him down, desperate for him to –

“Would you just say somethin’?”

He looks up. Finally looks you in the eye. “What?”

“Say something. Get mad. Yell at me or something, I dunno.”

“Why would I yell at you?” He plants his fork into a scrap of pancake and drags his knife alongside it.

“I mean, you seem pretty mad right now.”

“I ain’t gonna yell at you.”

“But you are mad?”

Joel doesn’t reply. He leans to one side, fishes in his back pocket for something, then slides your cell across the wooden table toward you. He nods down at it, and you click to unlock it.

Dad: Hey, I’m heading over to Joel’s to check something out for him. Wanna meet me there?

Dad: If your slumber party’s over, that is

He sent them an hour ago. If you’d fucking looked, you’d have known.

“Fuck…” you whisper.

“Yeah,” Joel mutters, jaw chewing, “fuck.”

“He didn’t– I mean, he didn’t see me, though. Right?”

“He saw your hat.”

You lean back in your chair, cutlery clattering against your plate. “He didn’t know it was mine.” A smile forms on your lips, you can’t help it, but it quickly vanishes when Joel’s tone doesn’t shift. Not even a note.

“And how do I know he ain’t drive by your car on his way?”

“Aw, c’mon, man, I’m parked, like, four streets away.”

Joel shakes his head, eyebrows arched. “You’re unbelievable,” he whispers.

“Uh, okay. Thanks. Jeez.” You fold your arms and glare out to the backyard, face beginning to heat. Eyes beginning to sting. Joel’s never like this with you. Never mad, never disappointed. Never makes you feel like a kid being told off.

“I mean, your bikini’s hangin’ up out there,” he points his fork toward the backyard, “and ain’t your bag sat in my hallway? How in the hell he didn’t see that, I have no idea.”

“But he obviously didn’t, so what’s the big deal? It’s only a black tote, it could’ve been anyone’s.”

“The big deal is that he could’ve seen it, baby! And it’s not just anyone’s, is it? It’s his daughter’s.”

And the thing is – he’s not even wrong. You can’t argue back much, ‘cause you know as well as he does that everything he’s saying is true. It’s valid. Your dad would’ve walked right by that bag – twice. The same bag he saw you hook over your shoulder right before you kissed his cheek and skipped out of his room.

This whole time, you’ve been dancing on a knife edge. Waiting to be caught. You came too close this time, and Joel tells you as much.

“Alright, well, what do you want me to do? I can’t go back in time and move the damn bag. I’m sorry, Joel. I didn’t fucking mean to let him see–”

“That’s not the point,” he interjects, which is another thing Joel rarely does.

This whole argument is something Joel – something you rarely do. The two of you. The last time you saw him this animated, this angry over something, it was Arthur Kennedy eyeing you up at the barbecue. And even that – that wasn’t directed at you. He wasn’t mad at you.

“Then what’s your point?” you ask, hands slapping down on the table.

“My point is – how many times are we gonna come within touching distance of someone finding out about this? If it wasn’t Hank almost finding us upstairs, it was your dad waltzing right in while I had you fuckin’– while I was…” He sighs, and then throws his cutlery down onto his plate.

Your head drops, thinking back to the seconds of panic between your dad opening your front door and him seeing you two, an awkward, guilty distance apart. Your shorts under the couch. Your wet on Joel’s fingers.

Joel’s kitchen table blurs in and out of focus, tears swimming across your eyes. You rapidly blink them away, but they’re forming quicker than you can rid yourself of them. When he speaks again, you can’t look at him.

“Look,” he runs an almost trembling hand through his hair, rising from the table, “I gotta go. I got some things I need to do today.”

You stand to height opposite him. “You…gotta go? Right now?”

“Yes, darlin’. I got work stuff to see to.”

“Right. Sure.” You lift your plate, turning away, and hear him sigh.

“I’ll only be a couple hours. We’ll talk more when I’m back.”

You spin then, pursing your lips. “So, I’m to wait here for you? That what you’re sayin’?”

Joel’s already picking up his keys. “No…If you wanna go, you can go. Just…if you wanna talk, then stay. We’ll talk.”

You look up at him, no more words coming to the surface to say. He moves a lock of hair from your face, and heads for the door.

Wait here for him. What a fuckin’ joke.

Still, that’s exactly what you do.

You throw yourself down on his couch, flick on his TV. Put on another episode of Love Island. Think over which boy you’d pick, then decide it’d be none of them, and wonder why the hell you’re watching it in the first place.

You wander upstairs to his room. Sift through the shirts hanging in his closet – all different variations and prints of flannel because it’s Joel fucking Miller. Pull the sleeves to your nose, breathe in the smell of him. The sweet, sandalwood smell that wraps over you like a warm blanket; comforting, calming. Fix the pillows on his bed, punch out the lumps where you lay huddled against him last night, his body against – and inside – yours.

You feel hot with anger. Frustration. A little bit of guilt. It sits heavy on your head, drips down to your stomach, swirls around and mixes with the anxiety already in there. If he’d just come home, you could argue it out. Force whatever he really wants to say out of his mouth. Say a few things of your own back to him.

You never fight. It’s the one thing – you never fight. You bicker, you toss back and forth. You piss him off and he shuts you up with his words, or his lips, or with more. But you never really fight.

It’s like something’s different. As if something’s changed, right from under your feet.

Joel comes home two hours later. Lets the door shudder closed behind him, sighs as he kicks his boots off. You’re still upstairs in his room, perched on his side of the bed reading some stupid book on Alcatraz you found in a drawer.

“Baby?” he calls, and you don’t reply. You’ve little right to be as mad as you are, but he can search for you for a minute as reparation for walking out earlier.

“Hey…” he whispers when he pushes the door open, spotting you with the book resting on your thighs. “Alcatraz, huh?”

“It ain’t that good,” you huff, slamming it shut and sliding it across the nightstand.

He breathes a Hmph, then sweeps around the bed. Like he’s scared to make a sound. Like he’s trying not to be noticed. When he reaches you, he sinks into the mattress at your feet, elbow resting on your knees.

“We gotta talk.”

Do I want to hear this? you ask him with your eyes.

He sucks a deep, unsteady breath in, and his brows furrow. He sighs again.

And you know what he’s about to say.

“This…We’ve pushed this too far, now. We’re way beyond reining this in.”

You stare at his lips. Waiting for them to offer something more. When they fall silent, your gaze trails up the shape of his nose, curving around his brows and then finally falling onto his eyes. They reveal all you need to know.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me. You’re not serious, right? Joel.”

“Kid, I…”

“No. What? Because of a bag?”

“Not because of a bag.” He looks you in the eye and shakes his head, whispers your name., then, “…because of the lying.”

“It’s never been a problem up until now.”

“It’s never been as bad as now. You ain’t been home in almost two days. Your dad has no idea where you are.”

“I’m not in danger, Joel.”

“You think he’d be happy? If he knew where you were really at right now? Knew you’d lied to his face this entire weekend?”

You sink back against the headboard, defeated. Desperately trying to find another way through what he’s saying. “What, then? What do we do? Come clean?”

He almost fucking laughs. Plays it off by pushing the air from his cheeks. “No. I don’t think we should…No.”

You shrug. “Then, tell me. Just fucking say it.”

Joel shakes his head, holds his hands out. “You’re lookin’ at me like I’m breakin’ this off outta the blue, baby. Like it’s comin’ outta left field.”

“So you’re breaking it off?”

“No, I’m– It’s not– I don’t…” He sighs, fingers pressing into his eyes.

You stand up, towering over him, silhouetted by the window behind you. “Just – fucking – say it. End it. I’ll go.”

“That’s not what I’m tryna do, kid.”

“What are you tryna do, then? There are two of us in this, Joel. You’ve been lying just as much as I have.”

“You don’t think I know that?” he hisses, standing up until you’re chest to chest, inches apart from one another. “Jesus, kid. I’m checking myself every fuckin’ conversation I have with your dad. Makin’ sure nothin’ I say will clue him in. Makin’ sure I don’t accidentally let slip what the hell’s been goin’ on!”

“I’ve been doin’ the same!” you yell back. “It ain’t just you, Joel, but that doesn’t seem to mean nothin’ to you!”

“Mean nothin’,” he repeats with a laugh, turning away and running his hands through his hair. “You don’t mean nothin’ to me? That what you think?”

“What else am I supposed to take from this, asshole? That you’re fuckin’ in love with me?”

He falls silent. His lips pull into a frown. He backs off.

Downstairs, his phone starts ringing. He glances to the doorway, shifts between his feet.

“You don’t get to do this, you know,” your voice trembles, “you don’t get to pull me in and then just drop me when it becomes inconvenient. Once you’re done with me.”

“Don’t.” Joel’s voice cuts like glass. “Don’t.”

You step back. Stare him down, try to make him say something. Try to make him do something. Your hands are on his biceps, eyes boring into his, swelling with tears you’re trying desperately to hold back.

Nothing. Not a word.

“I can’t read your mind anymore…” you whisper.

Joel takes a deep breath, his eyes flicker across your lips just for a second. He looks sad, eyes glassy, lines around his eyes where his eyebrows meet. But they tell you nothing.

His phone’s still ringing out, echoing through the silent house like an alarm bell.

You look at him blankly now. “Phone’s ringin’, Joel.”

He says nothing back, just looks at you from under his low brows.

You back out of his bedroom, shaking your head and stumbling a little over thin air. You’re staring at each other; you, trying to work out who the man is standing in front of you, and Joel, trying to plead with you to hear him out.

When you reach the threshold, you turn as if to run.

“Darlin’, come back. Hey.”

He follows you into the hallway and you feel his hand around your wrist. You whip it to your chest and turn to face him.

“Darlin’? Not your darlin’ anymore, am I? ’m just some girl you were fucking for a month.”

“C’mon, now, you know that’s not true.”

You lead downstairs, shoes thudding as you go. Joel’s right behind you, trying any combination of words to slow you down, make you look at him, stop for five seconds.

When you reach the bottom of the stairs, your arm swoops down to grab your bag, and as you straighten up, Joel’s ringtone cuts and his machine beeps.

“Hey, Joel,” a woman’s voice fills the space between you both. Your head whips around to stare at the machine.

“It’s Lois. I was just callin’ to…to check in. It was really nice seein’ you today. Give me a call when you can, okay?”

The voicemail cuts and the two of you are plunged back into silence. Silence, save for the heaving of your breath. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, your heart ready to burst through it. You haven’t taken your eyes off of the machine, red light blinking menacingly.

Joel lifts his hands. “That is not…It’s not what it sounds like…” he says, slowly, calmly. Quiet. Like you’ve never heard him speak before. Not We’re about to be caught quiet. Not even Quit arguin’ back quiet.

This is desperate quiet. And desperate’s not something you’ve ever heard pass Joel’s lips.

Your whole body is shaking, and you’re not sure whether it’s from adrenaline, or fear, or hurt, or pain. It takes most of the life inside you just for your lungs to open and close. You can’t fucking look at him. You can’t – fuck, you can’t even look in his direction.

You turn slowly toward the front door. You unlock it in a daze, and pull on the handle. The heat from outside hits you like you’ve opened an oven door.

“Baby…” Joel whispers.

“I’ll see you ‘round, Joel.”

----------

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cambrinkisbae · 4 days

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚scary love˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

nika muhl x reader

summary - you've never experienced true love until nika came along and part of you doesn't believe that you deserve her.

word count - 1.6k

themes :

-angst

-fluff

warnings :

-arguing

-cursing

a / n - inspired by scary love by the neighborhood and dedicated to my love (not the bad parts though only the sweet ones!)

Nika's hair always felt nice on my bare chest. I felt at peace when I'd wake up to her lips just barely touching my collarbones. my hands were still tangled in her hair but I slowly twirled some strands in between my fingers. this didn't feel right. it felt right in the moment but in the back of my mind, I didn't deserve it. I didn't deserve to have this perfect woman in my arms. it felt like I took up her warmth. I slowly peeled my arms off of her back and slid out from under her. her head gently fell against the pillow I was previously lying on. I watched as she didn't make a single move. I stood there and admired her messy hair sprawled out on the silky pillowcase. her fingers tightened around nothing but fabric, I could tell she wanted me back there. but I still walked to the bathroom and cleaned myself up. brushed my hair and brushed my teeth with the same thought running around my head. the same thoughts.

I can't fuck this up

yet the moment I felt okay and comfortable, a flip had switched. a couple of weeks after that morning I was feeling amazing. I felt like everything I was blessed with was meant for me. but the second an ounce of doubt ran through my head, I blew.

"Baby who is this?" Nika said holding my phone to my face. her voice was soft and calm but part of me still felt threatened. it wasn't anyone. it was just my best friend and I happened to have her contact as "babe💞" the same emoji I had next to Nika's name on my phone. I knew that it was just my best friend and nothing more but for some reason, I felt the need to panic. as if I had something to hide. "oh. uh, it's just- no one." I snatched my phone out of her hand leaving it empty as if it was searching for something to grasp onto. I held my phone to my face as I quickly changed the contact back to my best friend's name and a red heart next to it. I felt guilty for nothing. when I looked up I saw Nika with watering eyes ready to burst. and suddenly I copied. this is the last thing I wanted. Had I fucked it up? "y-you can tell me who it is." her voice was trembling beneath her lips. I could tell that inside she was fuming and wanted to explode but she had always hidden her angry side from me so she refused to blow. I quickly stepped closer to her body, cradling her jaw. I tried to calm her down without telling her the truth even though I knew that was what would fix things. something was stopping me. She tilted her head in the opposite direction of my hand, ripping her skin from my own. "who was it? just fucking tell me." why didn't I tell her. why couldn't I? I rested my hands against my stomach trying to control my increasing breath. "i-i don't know." my voice trailed off with shaky breaths. what the fuck was stopping me. I held onto my arms pretending it was Nika. the room went quiet after Nika took a couple of deep breaths. Nika finally turned around and showed her damp face. her eyebrows furrowed when she saw that I had been crying too. "why are you crying? what do you have to be crying about?" she pointed her finger at my chest, gently bumping me back. I took a breath, stumbling over my air while wiping tears from my cheeks as fast as I could. I tried to keep it together and not sob out of frustration. "it's not anyone Nika I promise." I practically pleaded between words.

"then why won't you tell me!?" her hands flung through the air drastically.

"Please you gotta trust me, baby." I dipped my head into my palms.

"how am I supposed to trust you when you can't even tell me who you're calling babe?"

"It's just a nickname," I whispered under my breath.

"Jesus Christ." her hands were tangled in her hair as she paced around the room.

"I'm sorry" I croaked out between hidden sobs.

I felt weak.

"do you realize that I love you? more than anything in the world and if you do too you need to fucking show it!" she said with her back faced to me.

I held onto that. She loved me more than anything in the world. and I loved her more than myself.

"I-" I opened my mouth to speak but was cut off.

"no. You can explain to me once you actually know how to"

Nika walked out of the door and to her car. I knew where she was going. she drove all the way back to campus to see Paige. it's where she always went when she was upset. So there I was sitting on the edge of our bed. crying to pass the time that was only filled with hope for her coming back through the door and giving me time to explain. I slowly moved to the floor and sat against the wall instead. My knees curled up to my chest. my jeans soaked up all the tears that came out of my eyes. I held onto my shins and sobbed for the rest of the night. it was only at around 3 am that I decided to get up and change something. I brushed through my hair and changed into sweatpants and a cropped tank top. I changed from my slippers into tennis shoes before leaving the apartment and walking to campus. it took me thirty minutes to get there and about ten minutes to get the balls to knock on Paige's door. the door swung open to reveal Paige staring at me. blanker than usual. she was obviously mad and that made me feel even worse. "uh- can I come in?" I know Paige loved me and Nika together and separately so she let me in and sat herself on her couch. "she's in my room." she spit out blandly while motioning her hand behind her head.

"did you walk here?" Paige questioned while shoving leftovers in her mouth.

"yes," I said while walking down to where Nika was. the door was cracked open enough for me to see her lying on Paige's bed. no covers and not a pillow. just flat sheets. I hesitated with my hand hovering over the door knob before creaking open the door. Nika was asleep, which I was part thankful and sad about. She used to say that it was almost impossible to sleep without me. I could tell that she wasn't completely out though. I can always tell now from the number of times I've walked in on her sitting up waiting for me to come back from the bathroom. She would always have a goofy smile on her lips once I called her out for fake sleeping. I chose to lean against the wall after closing the door instead of sitting on the edge of Paige's bed like how I wanted to. I watched Nika's chest rise and fall with every melancholy breath she took in her sleep. A million things went through my head questioning what she could be thinking about. A small hair fell down the side of her face and I took no time to reach and move it back behind her ear. I guess she's a light sleeper without me. she blinked her eyes open and I wanted to cover my face. her eyes were locked with mine for half a second before she looked down at the pale purple sheets she was lying on. we sat in silence for what felt like forever until I spoke.

"it was my best friend. the girl in my contacts." I explained, waiting for Nika to even look at me.

"We have this inside joke where we call each other babe and it was brought up the night before so I thought it would be funny to change her contact to that but I'm now realizing that it was a bad thing to do while in a relationship and I'm so so sorry, I don't want to lose you and I feel like I just did you're the best thing that's ever happened to me and I don't know what I'd do without you-" my words began to trail off before Nika stood up and held her finger to my lips.

"stop." her hand rested on my hip while she stared into my eyes for the first time in 2 hours. I got caught in her eyes. her touch and her breath and everything else. she sighed and looked at the floor then back up to me.

"It's okay," she whispered while wiping the few tears that fell down my face without me noticing. she pressed her forehead against mine while moving her hands to the small of my back. a shiver ran up my spine when I felt her touch on my uncovered skin.

"I love you, Nika. so much more than you think. I'm so" my voice began to break "I'm scared that something will go wrong. that's the only thing that has ever happened to me. I get in an argument and then it's over. if that happened between us, I- I don't know what I'd do." Nika nodded along while I spoke.

"I am never. ever. going to pull that kind of shit on you beba."

Nika's accent calmed me. her words seemed to flow more when her accent was present.

I wrapped my arms around Nika's body pulling her in tightly. I pulled away to see her staring in absolute awe. her hands ran over my hair, slowly twirling strands between her fingers like how I used to.

#nika muhl #basketball #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #lesbian #uconhuskies #nika muhl x reader #nika x reader #nika mühl #uconnwbb #uconn women’s basketball #uconn huskies

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pitchsidestories · 6 months

Text

A night at the Natural History Museum II Kyra Cooney-Cross x Reader

a/n: this is for the one who requested a KCC oneshot ❤️

masterlist I word count: 1478

The Natural History Museum was already impressive from the outside. You could feel excitement bubbling up just looking at the building. It almost felt like you were a child again.

“Do you girls have everything? You know you can always call me…“, Katrinas voice brought you back to the present. She and her family were visiting London for a few days, so naturally your girlfriend had offered to babysit their daughter. The toddler was bouncing up and down on Kyras hand, a tiny dinosaur backpack on her shoulders. You couldn’t help but smile.

“We know, Mini. But you’re supposed to enjoy your date night with your wife here in London, remember?“, Kyra replied gently. Her Australian team mate gave an apologetic smile; “I know. I just want to be sure.“ “You can trust us. Harper and we will have so much fun at the night at the Natural History Museum.“, Kyra assured her.

You and Kyra had always wanted to attend one of the museum’s sleepover events and now was the perfect opportunity. “I’m sure you three will.“, Katrina laughed. You smiled brightly at her; “See you tomorrow morning.“ “Bye, mum.“, Harper waved at the same time. Katrina bent down to give her daughter a kiss on the cheek; “Bye, Love. Have a good night and be nice to those two.“ She watched as you three walked towards the entrance of the museum.

Harpers eyes went big and bright, taking it all in. With her little mouth forming a perfect O shape, she stared at the whale skeleton hanging from the ceiling. Kyra, in the mean time, was busy preparing your sleeping spot for the three of you. As soon as Harpers gaze fell on the pillows, she tugged on your sleeve; “I’m not sleepy yet. Can we see the dinos first?“ “Sure. That’s why we’re here, right?“, you replied, taking her small hand in yours. “Yes!“, she grinned happily. Kyra appeared on her side, grabbing the other hand of the toddler; “Let’s go then.“

“Girls look this one is huge!”, Harper was stopping abruptly, she was stunned by what her eyes were taking in. Your girlfriend was delighted too when she followed the gaze of the younger girl: “That’s so cool.” “What’s the dino’s name, Kyra?”, Katrinas daughter asked her in a very interested tone. While both of them were looking closer at the skeleton to try and find an answer to her question you were taking a photo of them and sended it straight to the mother of the child who immediately replied with a heart eyes emoji.

Meanwhile Kyra was licking her lips nervously: “That’s a uhhh.” “A triceratops, love.”, you tried to help her out. She shook her head in disagreement: “No, that’s definitely a centrosaurus.” “Are you sure?”, you asked smirking. The finger of the brunette was pointing to the information board below: “Yeah, that’s what this sign says.” “Damn it, but it was close.”, you cursed jokingly. Honest the midfielder answered: “To be fair, they all look the same to me.” “And I thought you were a dinosaur expert Ky.”, you gave her a teasing smile before kissing her softly.

As your lips parted ways you turned around to look after Harper, but she was not standing at the place there she was a few seconds ago:” Harps? Shit, where is she?” “What? She was just right here?”, Kyra mumbled visibly confused. Your face turned white in horror, the same colour as the animal bones which were presented in the museum: “Yes, but now she is not.” “Shit. We can’t have lost her.”, your girlfriend looked equally terrified. So, you felt the urgence to reassure both of you with following words: “No need to panic, we’ll find her.” “Yeah, she can’t be that far, right?”, the Arsenal player said optimistic. “Right.”

Immediately Kyra started to shout the girl’s name:“Harper! Where are you?” “Maybe she’s in the main hall, that’s where the big whale is in and she loves whales.”, you thought out loud. Your girlfriend sounded sceptical:” She must have been pretty fast for that.” “True and here are way too many people for her to be that fast.”, you had to admit. “Harper?”, Kyra tried again.

You both were gasping out loud when you finally spotted that familiar little face which you feared you lost in the crowd. Harper giggled in response to your facial expression: “You guys should’ve seen your faces.”

“Harper!“, you called her and bridged the gap between you and the toddler. “You can’t do that to us.“, Kyra scolded but her voice was full of relief. You kneeled down and pulled Harper into a tight hug; “Yes, we were so worried about you.“ “But I was just hiding.“, she mumbled, her eyes round with genuine innocence. Gently, you smiled at her; “Next time you’ll tell us when you’re playing Hide and Seek, okay?“ “Okay…“, she whispered, obviously overwhelmed by the situation. You held out your hand, your pinky extended; “Pinky promise?“ “Yes.“, Harper answered, trying to hook her little pinky into yours. “Good.“

You slowly stood back up and Kyra wrapped an arm around your waist. She took Harpers hand with her free hand; “Come here, Harper. Let’s look at the other stuff here.“ The smile was back on the toddlers face as she politely replied; “Yes, please.“ “There’s so much to see.“, Kyra noted while you three walked through the exhibition. You nodded, overcome with fond memories; “Yes, I loved it here as a child…“ “You did?“, Harper looked up to you as if she couldn’t believe that you once were as little as her. “Yes, I came here often with my parents.“, you explained.

Smiling, Kyra bumped her shoulder to yours and told Harper; “But it’s her first sleepover in here too.“ “Exactly. And with you two, it’s extra special.“, you laughed. Your girlfriend kissed your cheek; “That’s so cute.“ With flushed cheeks but a happy warm feeling inside, you turned back to Harper; “Which dinosaur is your favourite so far, Harps?“ “T-Rex!“, the child yelled, followed by a loud roar. She let go of Kyras hand and pretended to have claws, holding her hands like a Tyrannosaurus. It was such an adorable display that you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing; “Yes, that one is impressive, right?“ Harper nodded quietly and came back to hold your hand; “I call him Roar-y.“ “I love that name!“, Kyra giggled, disproportionately amused about the name. “Me too.“, Harper smiled, trying to suppress a yawn. “It’s perfect.“, you agreed.

As you continued to walk through the museum, you could feel Harper slowing down. She got quieter and let herself lean against you at every stop, hiding her little face in your sweater. “Tired, little one?“, you smiled to which Harper vehemently shook her head; “No.“ Kyra grinned at you, obviously thinking the same; “Sure.“ “Not done yet.“, the toddler mumbled.

With a warm smile Kyra offered her: “Want me to carry you?”. “Yes, please.”, Katrina’s daughter nodded. “Come here.” Quickly the Arsenal player embraced her before starting to carry her. The girl’s eyes were slowly closing: “Okay.” “I knew, she was about to fall asleep.”, you whispered into your girlfriend’s ear. The brunette was grinning: “She is too cute.” “Yes, mini did a great job with her.”, you winked at her. “I agree.” “Love them both. Should we go to our sleeping place?”, you asked her. Kyra who started to feel the weight of the toddler agreed: “Yes, let’s go.” “I think that’s ours.”

Carefully the midfielder let Harper down on to the sleeping back:” Perfect.” Amused Kyra demanded:” Come here, let’s lay down too.” “Fine.” As you two got cozy with an asleep Harper in between who quietly snored the Arsenal player looked at you excited: “This is really cool.” “Told you.”, you quietly said, your eyes still shining. “Yeah, you were right.”, the Australian admitted smirking. Happily, you told her: “And Harper enjoyed it too.” “Especially the Dinosaurs.”, Kyra laughed. You fell into her laughter: “Yes, she loved the t-rex the most.”

“Roary!”, your girlfriend remembered delighted. But she was a little too loud in your opinion as you was worried that Harper would wake up from the noises around her:”Psst not so loud.” “Sorry.”, the Arsenal player apologized. A soft smile was on your lips as you reassured her: “It’s okay, she’s still asleep.” “We should buy her a plush T. rex tomorrow.”, Kyra suggested.

,You adored that idea as you were getting sleepier by each second: ”Oh definitely, so she won’t forget her night at the museum.” “I’m sure we won’t either. Sleep well, love.” “Good night, Ky.”, you replied, already half asleep, dreaming from the adventures your night at the museum hold. Lovingly Kyra glanced at you while she tucked you in, so you were as comfortable as Harper before closing her eyes too.

#kyra cooney cross #kyra cooney cross x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso one shot #matildas #arsenal wfc #auswnt #arsenal wfc x reader #katrina gorry

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moonbeamwritings · 1 year

Text

Hitoshi has known Denki for long enough to know that receiving a TikTok link from him at 3AM is never a good thing, especially not when it’s accompanied by a text that reads “ayooo i wish you’d look at me like that” followed by a dozen drooling, weeping, and woozy emojis.

Squinting tired eyes at the screen, Hitoshi reluctantly taps the link. He’s already more than a little sleep deprived; what’s another minute wasted watching some stupid video? Except, Hitoshi’s heart quickens, his eyes widening when he sees himself onscreen, decked out in his hero costume.

It’s a video from a week ago, taken shortly after a villain attack. It was minor, no major injuries or destruction, but you both had lingered on scene until everyone was properly taken care of. In it, you and him are standing practically shoulder to shoulder, eyes scanning over something offscreen. Hitoshi watches with rapt attention as you giggle, dropping your hand to his elbow and staring up at him with a friendly smile. He can’t remember what he’d said that afternoon to make you smile like that, but warmth floods his cheeks as he recalls the feeling of your body so close to his and the sweet sound of your laugh.

Whoever took the video lingers on his face long enough to catch the moment Shinsou’s expression shifts when you finally look away. No longer under your scrutiny, Hitoshi has the freedom to stare unabashedly, gaze shifting along the line of your side profile, a smirk tugging at his lips all the while. Before the video cuts away, Shinsou straightens his back and crosses his arms, widening his stance. The smirk doesn’t drop, though he has the decency to tuck it behind his binding scarf.

It loops and loops as Hitoshi’s mouth drops open in abject horror. Over and over again he comes face to face with the feelings he’d been trying, and apparently spectacularly failing, to hide. The video already has thousands upon thousands of likes and just as many favorites. The comments share Denki’s sentiments, ranting about how hot Shinsou is, how pretty and how lucky you are. How obvious the tension between you two is. Shit.

He falls down a comment thread filled with speculations that the two of you are already dating or that you’re hooking up, though some naysayers prefer to ship you with Deku or Dynamight. Nope, he thinks to himself when one commenter suggests you’ve been dating since high school. Just hopelessly pining. And Hitoshi’s face feels much too hot as he presses it into his pillow to muffle a long, embarrassed groan.

It feels weird, almost invasive, to see himself through someone else’s eyes, and sure, the conversation had happened on the sidewalk in broad daylight, but Hitoshi can’t fight the feeling of discomfort that lingers beneath his skin. He’s always been pretty reserved, quiet or pensive where other heroes may be more outgoing, so the video, and it’s climbing view count, leave him feeling put on the spot. Curse his dreams of becoming a pro-hero.

When he flips to press his back into the mattress and stare at the ceiling, he only hopes you haven’t seen it, lest you witness his crush on you on repeat (with an incessant pop song in the background). He texts Denki a few eye roll emojis and surrenders himself to the rapid beat of his heart and another sleepless night.

#shinsou x reader #shinsou imagine #hitoshi shinsou x reader #hitoshi shinsou imagine #mha x reader #mha imagine #bnha x reader #bnha imagine #bnha fluff #shinsou fluff #part two where another video comes out and reader is looking JUST AS LOVESICK #ew ew ew i hate them #stop being in love and shit where civilians can see

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captaincapsicle83 · 2 months

Text

I Know I Said I Couldn't Call

Bucky Barnes x Reader

TW: implications of death, cursing, and [worst of all] phone calls

Summary: Bucky gets an unexpected call in the night. A short little story, cute little fluff moments...

He grunted, and turned over at the standard form iPhone ring. Sam mocked him, and Tony was baffled, but Bucky claimed he, "liked the factory stuff."

In all reality, he didn't know how to change it.

It seemed to ring forever, and with experience he was sure it would. He turned over, reaching across the bed he was sprawled out on. The blanket was gathered at his feet, the sheet wrinkled and wild. He had about four pillows, arranged in a strange modern art kind of way.

It was truly a remarkable sight, but Bucky was just glad to be getting any sleep at all in a bed. Of course, not for very long, considering-

The phone call.

He picked out the phone, in his non metal hand. He became a little more alert, a little more awake, and sat up at your name flashing on the screen. At the end of it, was a little emoji, a pink heart with some sparkles around it.

He hesitated, but not for long. He didn't want it to ring out, risking not talking to you. You were on a mission, somewhere in an Eastern country. It was a solo one, Fury telling you it would he a piece of cake.

Ever had cake that was dry, and spongey? Made with frosting that wasn't sweet and tasted like crepe paper?

That was the piece of cake you were eating in Northern Russia right now.

"Hello?" Bucky said, his voice gruffer than he meant it to be. However, he couldn't much help it, the tiredness was overcoming him, no matter how much he shooed it away.

"Hey, baby," you said. Your voice was soft, and sweet. Sweet like the cakes you and Bucky ate together on that third date where you accidentally got another tables birthday dessert. Sweet like the cakes Wanda would bake with you, the ones you made her promise to make you on your wedding day.

"Hi," Bucky said again. His voice was as soft as he wanted it to be this time, like a cat walking carefully across a piano. Alpine did that once, and he watched with such lust and wonder, you had to watch his face. It had to have been the quietest moment of your life, watching his face light up into a half smile as Alpine carefully treaded, her soft paws taking each step with care.

It was beautiful, he was beautiful.

"I thought you couldn't-" Bucky started, but you cut him off. He was too tired to sense the underlying issues with the conversation. The unexpectedness, the urgency...the sadness.

"I know I said I couldn't call. It's just- I got the chance and I didn't...want to...waste it," you said.

"Oh," Bucky said, cutting himself off with a yawn. "That's...nice. I've missed you."

"I miss you too- I'm sorry I woke you up. It's gotta be so late there," Bucky glanced at his bedside clock. 2:43 am.

"How have you been sleeping through the night?"

"Better, honestly," Bucky said, then let out a tired chuckle. "The beds always a mess though, I kick things everywhere. Alpine won't come near me. Guess its the Winter Soldier in me."

You laugh at the joke, but it hurts you. It hurts your core, and you put a hand to the gaping wound on your stomach. You were outside of the old payphone box, watching the snowflakes fall on and around you. Your phone was so smashed and cracked, you were surprised it turned on at all. You were very serious about phone chargers though, and it was always above 70% when you left with it. Bucky would joke if the phone was below 50% charged you’d go into shock.

It was at 23 when you had made the call. Turns out, he wasn’t half wrong.

"How's the mission?" Bucky asks you. You admired his ability to hold a conversation, yet he was clearly struggling. You were too, if you were honest.

"It's going on a little longer than expected," you say, trying to sound like you were laughing without doing it. It hurt too much, and you were worried your guts would quite literally spill out.

"It'll be alright, you always get through it," his soft voice says. That was why the cat liked him, you had told him, because he basically was a cat.

He had pressed for answers, and you had delved him, not only into the satanic lore of cat behavior, but of the slew of internet memes, comparison of him to the one and only grumpy cat.

Sam was there for that, and nearly died everytime a new side by side came up.

"Is everything okay?" Bucky asked. The line was quiet, and you were suddenly very aware of that. You were worried you had already died. That wasn't what you wanted, not to die on the phone.

"Yeah, just thinking of you," you could almost see the blush and smile he was surely brandishing. "I'll be home soon, baby," you lied. You owed it to him, to let him sleep a little longer after you hung up.

"Yeah?"

"'Course. Be back before you know it. Gotta kick your ass for messing up my bed."

"I love you doll."

"I love you too, Bucky," you couldn't help but choke out a sob at your last words. Before he could question it, before you could hear anything else, you used all your energy to hang up the phone, letting the line go dead as your ungloved hand fell to your side.

Your eyes watched, the life flickering in and out of them, the snowflakes fall from the sky.

#bucky barnes #marvel #bucky barnes x reader #avengers x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #marvel mcu #bucky barnes fic #marvel fics

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forgwater · 2 years

Text

Cater's room is really nice! 😊

Don't you guys (gender neutral) agree?

#emoji pillow #cater's room #sorry for the cursed image #you're gonna have to look a bit closer for this one #cater diamond #twst cater #twst #twisted wonderland #twst shitpost #disney twst #twisted wonderland shitpost #twst wonderland #twst meme #twisted wonderland meme #disney twisted wonderland #cursed emoji pillow

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im-a-wench · 2 years

Text

@forgwater our lord takes many forms💖

#cursed emoji pillow #i would like to apologize to my family to the demon hiding in my closet and most importantly to my cat for creating this #cursed emoji waifu body pillow #what would happen if you smooch them?

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cinnnamongrl · 10 months

Text

sorority secrets- ellie williams (part 2)

pairing: college!ellie williams x fem!reader

summary: part 2 to this fic.

warnings: [18+ MDNI] explicit language, suggestive themes/language, kissing (gasp) [this series will contain smut later on- warnings will be listed accordingly]

author’s note: part two everybody clap. this is a little shorter but part 3 will make up for it .. wink wink. have fun and lmk all ur thoughts<33

was ellie delusional? was she a complete idiot for thinking there was something sapphic that was occurring between the two of you? did she dream up the flirting, the glances at her hands and quickened heartbeat visible through your dress when her face was close to yours? she didn’t know. all she knew was she had been tied up in too many situations where she’d misread signals and falsely assumed a girl was queer and interested to then find out she was straight, or involved with a guy. and fuck going through that again. so she decided to distance herself. luckily for her, there hadn’t been any mandatory eta meets lately and you didn’t share any classes together. her plan to leave you alone and let you pursue this chad guy was going perfectly.

you felt like shit. you felt like the worlds biggest asshole for telling everyone you had a crush on a guy 3 minutes after ellie’s mouth was a few inches from yours, and not even talking to her after to maybe explain that, hey, i don’t even know who chad is. i was just being a pussy. now can we go back to where you were pressed up against me in the bathroom? another fun consequence of your lie was now having to pretend you knew who chad peters was when your sorority sisters would prod you for details on your big crush on him. you’d managed to work out through their giggly discussions that he was:

1. tall.

2. well endowed. (lucky you!)

3. a football player.

4. president of kappa upsilon sigma fraternity. the same fraternity your dad had been a part of.

fuck chad peters for existing and being the reason ellie wasn’t talking to you anymore.

you laid on your bed with yours and ellie’s chat open on your phone. your heard swirled with different excuses to use to text her, trying to silence your pride. it was your fault she was avoiding you anyway, you’d embarrassed her and hadn’t even followed up with an apology, instead you let your parent’s ideals and the pressure you put on yourself mess with your head.

fuck this.

she didn’t tell you to fuck off so you considered that a win. it had been 17 minutes since you sent the last text, so you assumed the conversation was over. still, you picked up your phone every few minutes to check she hadn’t texted again. it was a natural place for the conversation to end, but… what if she was still upset with you? you threw your head dramatically into your pillow like a woman scorned.

curse your stupid love heart hand emojis, ellie thought. she tried to be chill and think about important things like the next paragraph on her text book, or replying to a text from emilia about some eta thing, or doing something about the clothes pile on her floor from 2 weeks ago. but she was sat in her desk chair analysing your emojis. which made her think about you. which made her think about the little eyebrow scrunch you did when you pretended to be annoyed with her, which made her think about your chest almost pressing into hers in the bathroom, which made her think about your neck, how it might look with-

KNOCK KNOCK

ellie scanned her room, kicked the pile of clothes into the corner, adjusted the hood of her grey hoodie and walked to the door. she opened it and was met with you, looking slightly awkward but in an (annoyingly) endearing way. she looked down at your hands. a box of capri-suns. a laugh escaped her throat. “hi” your voice a little unsure. “listen i know you’re studying i just thought i’d bring this to you it’s a joke because we talked about capri-suns sorry i’ll go i just thought it would be funny but i’m probably disturbing you so i’ll see you soon maybe y’know because of e-“ “come in” she cut you off.

you took in a breath and tentatively walked past her outstretched hand. you stood in the middle of her room, still processing that you’d asked ellie’s step sister to tell you where her dorm room was like a creep and then ran there to give her a gift from a stupid inside joke. “i’ll leave in a minute i just,” you thought for a second. you just what? you pointed a weak hand at the box of capri-suns in your other hand. she smiled slightly “i see. thank you.” she took the box from your hand and started to rip it open as she sat down in her desk chair. you watched her for a few seconds before a brightly coloured pouch came flying at you, your instincts managing to kick in at the last minute so your hand could shoot out and clutch it against your torso, an action that lacked any hint of grace. ellie was visibly holding in a laugh as she pierced the tiny straw through her own drink. “don’t laugh! you didn’t give me any warning!” you blurted. “ok this is your warning. i’m going to throw a capri-sun at you.” not even half a second later another flash of colour shot towards you and you held you hand up in front of your face in protection. the pouch hit the floor with a gentle thud and you picked it up and stared at ellie who was now openly snickering at you. “you’re” you aimed it at her stomach “a dick” SMACK.

“ow!” she held the drink to her and looked up at you in disbelief before standing to her feet, eyes on you. a little jump of playful fear zapped through you and she grabbed a handful of capri-suns out the box and one after the other threw them towards you, no real force behind the throws. you backed away giggling until the backs of your knees met her bed and you fell back onto it. ellie didn’t let up her attack and continued walking towards you, fourth capri-sun hitting your shoulder a little harder than she’d anticipated. you clutched it theatrically and turned away from her, face pressed into her bed and keeping your body balled up like you’d been shot. a wave of panic went through ellie at the thought of accidentally hurting you. she placed herself next to you on the bed and put her hand on your back nervously “hey are you..” “HA” you lifted suddenly and held her body down onto the bed with your leg and repeatedly hit the capri-sun onto her arm, laughing at your own genius. ‘hey hey hey’ ellie spoke through her laughter and grabbed a hold of your arms, successfully pacifying you.

she looked at the sight of you above her, grinning, your chest rising and falling quickly. the memory of your truth or dare confession struck her. she let go of your arms and cleared her throat, sitting up slightly, making you remove your leg from her. you noticed her switch and before your brain could have an input your mouth got there first;

“i don’t like that guy.” you babbled. ellie stared at you. “what?” “that guy. chad. i didn’t even know a chad, it was the first name that came to mind.” “wh-“ she blinked a few times “what are you saying?” you adjusted yourself so you were sat on your knees. “i made up a fake crush when emilia asked because i got scared.” ellie frowned, “scared of what?” “you.” a short laugh escaped her, the confusion obvious on her features. “me?” “yes, scared of you and…” “and what?” her eyes were still fixed on you and it took great effort to stop yourself from doting upon her freckles and her pretty lips “..the way you make me feel.” you looked down. ellie’s tone changed, there was a depth to her voice. “and how’s that?” your eyes remained focused in on a crease in her sheets. “like..” “hey, look at me.” she raised your chin with her index finger. you complied. and she wanted to hear you talk but god did she also want to kiss you right now.

“..fuzzy. and all hot and nervous and i haven’t stopped thinking about you since i met you which is stupid and scary and-” and then her lips were on yours, it was soft and sweet and it gave you butterflies. it was delicate and gentle and tender, until it wasn’t. until it was deepening, her tongue was meeting yours and you had butterflies in a whole new way. her hand found your face and she cupped your jaw while the other made it’s way to the back of your neck, the intensity of both her hands holding you making your head spin a little. she kissed you with all the desperation of a man starved and yet all the technique that made it seem like she already knew exactly what your body wanted from her.

feeling suddenly restricted in the sitting position on your knees you leaned into the kiss and placed your hands either side of her, lifting your ass from your legs and leaning into her on all fours, mouth not leaving hers. ellie felt your body shift and broke away from you, noticing your new position. “you.. can’t do that” she let out breathlessly. “d-do what?” you were suddenly hyper aware of your body, realising that you probably did look a little pathetic in near-enough doggy position while you’re kissing for the first time. “because i want to be respectful,” she calmed her breathing slightly “but the way you look now is making me have not so respectful thoughts” your face heated and let out a shy giggle. “..sorry.” the corner of her mouth lifted into a smile. you continued “but uh… you don’t have to be respectful… if you don’t want.” you looked up at her and absentmindedly brought your bottom lip to chew on at your nervous attempt at playful seduction. ellie looked down at your mouth and within the beat she’d captured it with her own, kissing you hard again and hands stoking up your arms that were still held up on her bed.

part 3

taglist: @ximtiredx @gold-dustwomxn @nil-eena @girlfr1endism

#ellie tlou 2 #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie tlou #ellie williams smut #ellie x reader

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withleeknow · 6 months

Text

fold.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff; cursing, unedited lol word count: 0.9k note: idek what this is lol i just wrote this to get the brain wiggles out 🤣

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation › masterlist › ko-fi

“You’re banishing me to the couch because of a little prank?”

“Because it wasn’t funny! God, you’re such an asshole.”

“It was!” Fucking hell, Minho is still laughing. “Babe, you should’ve seen your face.”

You hold up your big fluffy pillow to hit your boyfriend over the head, though he dodges it easily. "Piss off to the couch!"

“For real?” he asks, scanning your face with his big eyes, his brows raising annoyingly. “Sure you wanna sleep alone tonight? You're serious?”

“As a fucking heart attack,” you huff angrily, wildly kicking your feet at his legs under the sheets. “Out!”

“You’re so cute. You know you always fold, right?” he coos, eyes crinkling with mirth as he raises his hands, seemingly trying to hold your cheeks in his palms. “At least give me a kiss before I go.”

It only sharpens your dagger glare, and before Minho knows what’s even happening, he’s yeeted from the bed to the floor, rubbing the sore spot on his butt that you just kicked and sent him flying off the mattress.

“Ow! Fine, I’m leaving. See you in a couple hours."

Thirty minutes later, your phone lights up with a message, Minho’s screen flashing on your screen like an omen. You frown when you reach for the device on your nightstand, the furrow between your brows only deepening as you read the words Attachment: 2 Images.

Your finger hovers over the notification, clearly curious, but you know your boyfriend too well to be that naive.

There’s a 76% chance that he just sent you something scary that he got from the internet, which you think would be a stupid thing to do, considering that you’re “mad” at him.

But then again, he’s already on the couch. Maybe he’s got nothing left to lose.

Damn that man.

You shake your fist in the direction of the door, even though he can’t see you, before you decide to just get it over with and pop open his messages.

Hmm.

It’s nothing. No jumpscares, no scary photos of ghosts or ghouls or anything of the likes.

It’s only a couple selfies of him lying on the couch this very second, just a few footsteps away from your bedroom door, hugging his pillow with a content look on his face.

The first thing you do is save the photos to your designated Minho album, because even though you’re “mad” at him, he still looks cute with his stupid Snow filters and bunny smile, his gleaming eyes and-

Oh.

You see what this is.

Ass.

He’s banished, but he’s still pushing it, trying to show you just how much he seems to be loving it out there.

You huff out yet another annoyed breath. What on earth are you going to do with him? That’s a question you ask yourself every day.

In the end, you only reply to him with the middle finger emoji before you put your phone on the nightstand again.

You turn away from the device and snuggle further into your bed, willing sleep to come find you but you have to admit that it’s hard. It’s not because you’re scared or anything, you’re just used to sleeping next to someone.

No, not just anyone.

Only Minho.

You’re so used to sleeping next to Minho that now the bed feels infinitely empty without his warmth next to you, all over you.

Rationally, you know he’s right there in the living room - you can still hear him every time he paddles to the kitchen to get some water - and you’re clearly not strong enough to leave him on the couch for more than one night.

Actually, he has never been banished for a full night. Hell, his timeout on the couch has always ended much earlier than you’d like. Your boyfriend was right. You always fold. Pathetically quickly too.

You toss and turn for another while before you hear his unabashed giggles from the living room, light and relaxed, over the echoes of dramatic music. He must have put on a scary movie.

With your eyes closed, you listen to the sounds of make-believe doors slamming, floorboards creaking, a blood-curdling scream here and there. You’re still as wide awake as you were earlier, when Minho popped up from underneath the sheets, wearing a fucking Chucky mask just as you were getting into bed.

The idea of having his arms around you gets more appealing by the minute. You know you would be out like a light within seconds if he was holding you.

With both palms gripping the pillow beneath your head, you let out one last irritated exhale. Fuck it. This was a losing game from the start and you were all too aware of it.

You paddle out of your bedroom on light footsteps and into the enemy’s territory. When you’re in front of the couch, Minho calmly pauses the movie on the TV before he peers up at you with innocent eyes.

You hold out a hand wordlessly. This isn’t your first rodeo, and it sure as hell won’t be your last, as much as it pains you to admit it.

“Told you,” he titters, checking his phone for the time before he takes your hand in his. “You lasted 58 minutes. So close. Almost made it a full hour.”

You roll your eyes, though your body instantly relaxes now that you’re touching him in some way. He turns off the TV, grabs his phone and pillow, then waddles the both of you back into your cozy bedroom.

Your friends were right when they said they'd never seen anyone fold so quickly.

#stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz fic #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #lee know fluff #lee know scenarios #lee know x reader #lee know imagines #lee know x you #lee minho x reader #lee minho x you #stray kids #skz #lee know #lee minho

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topguncortez · 2 years

Text

The Professor | Chapter 4

previous part | masterlist | next part

synopsis: You and Professor Seresin now have a system going, but how long can the secret relationship stay a secret.

word count: 3k

warnings: age gap, power imbalance, mentions of smut, making out, cursing.

Two weeks. It had been two weeks of Jake finding himself deep inside his student really, at his convenience. He wasn’t sure how he was going to feel about it. He was never one for just random hookups when he was young. Him and Allison had been together since his freshman year. She had only been the third woman he had been with, the other two were high school girlfriends. Throughout his relationship with Allison, there had been times where they had broken up, and Jake found himself in bed with another woman, but again, that only happened about twice. He wasn’t really sure how to navigate the world of “just sex”, but he slowly caught on.

The first night after fucking you, he really didn’t think you were going to leave so soon. He was used to girls hanging around at least for a little bit, some pillow talk, maybe a glass of wine and round two, then he would walk them to their cars and kiss them goodnight. But after you declined his invitation to shower with him, he quickly understood the rules to the agreement. In fact, you had laid it pretty clear to him the next day.

“It’s simple, we fuck when we need it. Having a bad day? Yes. Hard as a rock at 11:30? Sure. One of your students said that Shakespeare isn’t real? I’m down. Just send the text,” You said and told him the emojis to use.

The first time he did send the text he thought it was very juvenile to use an eggplant and a water droplet, but it was something simple that wouldn’t distract from the various messages about grades and homework assignments. He waited patiently for you to show up, and was surprised when you promptly arrived ten minutes after the message. After screwing every legitimate thought out of your mind, Jake offered to watch a movie again, but you were sliding your panties up your legs (you took them off this time, not being able to afford another pair of ripped ones).

“Okay, listen old timer, I know they didn’t do hookups back in the-”

“I am only 35,” He rolled his eyes, “And for your information, I did hookups when I was your age. Though the women were much less annoying and demanding than-”

“Sorry I’m not going to pretend like you are doing something when in reality you are just rubbing my left lip.”

“I think I found your clit pretty eas-”

“Like I said, this is a hookup. Means you or I text one another, we come over, we fuck, we leave. There is no staying, there is no post sex cuddling, besides you sweat like a whore in Church.”

“Again, when I am doing most of the-”

“I was on top this time so you can’t even use that excuse.”

Jake huffed and rolled his eyes, “You can find your way out.”

“Im taking this,” You said and grabbed the sweatshirt he was wearing from the floor, and slipped it over your head. Jake watched as you grabbed your keys and baseball cap that you wore over. Once again, he didn’t walk you out, but peered out the window to make sure you got to your car safely. He also texted you to let him know when you got home safely. And you’d never admit it, but you smiled at your phone as you read the message.

Jake had guessed that the deal to relieve some tension was working. He had heard many of his students say that they noticed a change in his attitude. He was less angry, more willing to actually have a conversation about grades and topics and not call you stupid in the process.

Jake felt like there was a weight off his shoulders as well. He had more time to work on his next research paper with his friend Bob, and didn’t have to spend hours upon hours trying to decipher what first years were trying to say. He also noticed himself smiling, just a bit more than usual. Some chalked it up to his divorce finally going through, which he did celebrate with bending you over his desk at home, but it was more than just that.

“Many of you probably know this TV show, but it is a modern day example of Hamlet,” Jake said as he presented the slide.

“Jax fucking Teller,” You whispered to Lucy. Jake looked over at you. He was yet to meet Lucy, but from all the times you had mentioned her, he felt like he knew her.

“I’d let him do sinful things to me,” Lucy said back.

“Miss Y/N,” Jake said interrupting the conversation, “Care to explain why Jax Teller is a good example of Hamlet?”

You licked your lips as you sat a bit. The outfit you decided on today was something simple, a pair of black biker shorts and one of Jake’s old college sweatshirts. He had to refrain from looking at your ass as you bent over earlier to pick up your pencil. Somehow, you had managed to get Jake to start allowing note taking, and the whole class was thankful.

“Jax is a perfect example of Hamlet because of what happened to his father. He’s a tortured old soul with daddy issues,” You spoke and batted your eyelashes at him. Lucy had to bite back a smirk as Jake cleared his throat.

“Pay attention,” Jake said and turned back around.

“Yes professor,” You said softly. Jake closed his eyes and started thinking about anything other than hearing those words come out of your mouth as you were on your knees for him.

“If you read the assigned chapters, you should know what this slide is referring to.”

Jake was running late as he walked into the dimly lit bar. It was hardly crowded for a Wednesday night, but there was a good sized crowd. He easily spotted his friend Bob sitting at the bar chatting with Bradley. He looked up from the glass he was cleaning and shot Jake a bright smile.

“Look who decided to show up!” Bradley cheered and Jake shook his head.

“Some of us have real jobs, Bradshaw,” Jake grumbled and took off his suit coat, “Whiskey neat please.”

“And some of us aren’t miserable robots working a useless system,” Bradley said and poured Jake his drink.

Bradley Bradshaw was a smart man, a very smart man. He and Jake had gone to school together, though they studied different majors, they were in the same fraternity, so they saw each other often and had another mutual friend, Bob Floyd, who was studying astrophysics. Bradley was in his last semester of law school, already having completed and passed the Bar exam, when he came home one day to their shitty apartment in Chestnut Hill and announced he had dropped out. Bob and Jake thought he was joking, it wasn’t unlike Bradley to joke around like that. But he showed them the paperwork as proof.

“What the hell are you going to do?” Jake asked him, “Work at the bar for the rest of your life?”

“Yep,” Bradley smiled and sat back on the couch.

And that’s exactly what Bradley did. He worked at the “Main Street Bar” as a bartender all throughout undergrad and grad school. In fact, nearly three years ago, Bradley had become the owner of the bar when the previous one passed. Jake hated to admit it, but he had never seen Bradley so happy in his life, than when he was behind the bar or playing the piano. He envied Bradley for being happy with such a rash choice.

“Have you had a chance to look over that-”

“Hey, what’s the rules?” Bradley said, cutting Bob off.

“It’s not like I’m going to ask him for his dissertation notes, I just wanna know if he got my email,” Bob said and rolled his eyes. Bob had gotten his PhD in physics and also taught at Boston College. Bob was a science nerd, Jake could vividly remember the day Bob moved into the frat house and put his Star Trek sheets on his bed. Bob was quiet, shy and almost scary smart.

“I got the email, but I was a bit busy this afternoon,” Jake answered.

“Busy?” Bradley asked, and Jake nodded wordlessly, “You got a girl.”

“No, I don’t,” He rolled his eyes.

“Liar,” Bradley smirked, “Moving on so quickly after Ally? Lemme guess. . . you and Natasha finally stopped playing your stupid “i’m in town, lets fuck” game and got together.”

“It’s not Natasha,” Jake said, rolling his eyes again.

Natasha Trace was their other friend all three of them had in common. All four of them had met in a freshman stats class, and had just stuck together after that. Natasha was the only female of the group, and the three boys had decided early on they weren’t going to try and make a move on her. But Jake only half listened to that promise. Him and Natasha snuck around a bit, until he met Allison. Natasha was also the only one of the group who didn’t go to Boston College, instead, after getting her undergrad in Military science, she joined the Navy. Whenever she was in town though, Jake always made a plan to seek her out.

“It’s not Allison, again, is it?” Bob asked.

“No, god no,” Jake scoffed, “It’s uh. . . it’s a friends with benefits thing.”

“Certainly didn’t have that in my cards,” Bradley smirked, “At Least you aren’t hung up about Ally. I hate to say this now, but I never liked her.”

Neither did I, Jake said to himself.

“So, who is she?” Bradley asked, “Someone we know?”

“No,” Jake mumbled, “Listen, I don’t want-” Jake’s speech was cut off as his phone rang. He looked up at Bradley for a moment, before they both reached for his phone, but Bradley was quicker than him, “Bradshaw give it back.”

“Oh shit! Is this her? ‘Miss Thing’?” Bradley laughed. Jake shook his head, you had called yourself that once and he thought it was funny, “No passcode Jakey, tsk, tsk, dangerous,” Bradley scolded him, “Oh shit! Emojis! Bob, he got sent emojis!”

“Bradley, really give it back.”

“Nah this is just too good,” Bradley cackled, and continued scrolling, “Damn this is like every single . . wait. . . ‘Did you have a chance to look over the first draft notes I sent? Do you think it looks good?,” Jake reached out for his phone again, but Bradley pushed his arm away, “Seresin, are you fucking your student?”

“Holy shit,” Bob said.

“No, just,” Jake sighed, “Yes, but it’s not like that. It’s just for stress relief.”

“Jake, that isn’t-”

“Way to fucking go, Seresin!” Bradley laughed, cutting Bob off, “Finally doing something cool with your life.”

Bob shook his head, “Jake, you can’t be doing that. What if-”

“I know,” Jake shook his head. He had thought about what could happen if people find out that he was fucking his student it could all end badly. You and Jake had even talked about the dangers of being caught, which was why they made a promise to not do anything on campus, and always after 7PM. Jake swirled his whiskey in his glass, “We talked about it. And it’s strictly sex, I’m not doing her any favors. Only other thing she’s doing for me is helping me grade first year papers.”

“But she’s still your student, Jake.”

“She won’t be like a couple months,” Bradley shrugged, “You're half through the semester, she won’t be taking your class again unless she completely fails it. I don’t see a problem with getting to know your students.”

Bob scoffed and shook his head.

“Bob, I need you not to tell anyone. She consented all on her own, I didn’t force her. She knows that she can stop at any time and without consequence,” Jake said to his friend. Bob looked at him and clenched his jaw.

“Fine,” Bob said, and drank down the rest of his glass, “Well what are you still doing sitting here? She sent you emojis.”

Jake cracked a smile and Bradley handed his phone back. He said goodbye to them before heading out of the bar. Your car was already sitting on the street when he arrived. He didn’t mind that you always came to him, and he hadn’t seen your house, save for the time he dropped you off one night. You said that it was too risky for him to be there with your roommate and her boyfriend around. Jake whistled to himself as he opened the door to his house and jogged up the stairs.

“Took you long enough,” You said as Jake opened the bedroom door to find you in nothing but lace red bra and panties. Jake felt himself stiffen in his dress pants.

“Where did you get this?” Jake said and gestured towards her undergarments.

“Someone left a card with some cash in my backpack and said ‘buy something nice. And red’ on it,” You smirked and pushed yourself up on your knees at the edge of the bed. Jake walked over, his hands going straight for your hips.

“Glad you spent it on more than just alcohol,” He nodded.

You rolled your eyes and ran your hands over the expensive dress shirt he was wearing. Your hands helped push his suit coat off and landed on the floor. Grabbing his face softly in your hands, you pulled him in for a kiss. His hands went to your ass, squeezing it in his hands. You gasp and he slips his tongue into your mouth. Jake leans you back on the soft bed, and your legs wrapped around his waist pulling his hips to be flush with yours. You moaned at the feeling of his already erect cock hitting your core.

“You’re needy, you know that,” Jake laughed, “Already wet for me and I didn’t even do anything.

“I sit in class and listen to you rant about stupid shit and get turned on,” You admited.

“Really?” Jake asked, and you nodded, “Gonna have to show me next time. But for now,” He grabbed your hips and turned you around so you were on your front, he slapped your ass making you jump slightly, “That didn’t even hurt, quit acting like it did.”

“You going to fuck me or talk the whole time?” You looked over your shoulder, “Cause I can leave and finish this job myself. My vibrator does a pretty nice job.”

“One, shut up,” Jake said as he discarded his dress shirt, and trousers, “Two, bring your vibrator next time, I want to use it,” He slid his boxers down his legs and climbed on top of you. You sucked in a breath as his hands spread your cheeks apart. He groaned at the sight of your wet cunt. He ran a finger through your slit, and before pushing it into your opening. He pumped his finger in and out of you a bit, working you open for him. When he felt like you were ready, he lined his cock up with your weeping hole.

“Three, I will always fuck you,” He slid into you with ease. Every time he fucked you, it was easier for him to slide into your cunt, your body now getting use to his size. It was still a bit of a stretch, and Jake waited just a moment for you to adjust to his size, starting off slow and working up to a faster more brutal pace that had you screaming his name.

Derek was being pushed to the side and he couldn’t stand it. At first, he summed it up to you being busy with your studies. Everyone was busy as it was nearing midterms, stressing out on whether or not they should continue with certain classes, trying hard to make high marks on their upcoming exams and papers. You hadn’t been out drinking on Friday nights with Lucy and Zeke like normal. You also didn’t leave class with him and Lucy either, almost always staying after class to talk to Professor Seresin.

Professor Seresin. Derek hated him. Derek had spent nearly six hours writing on his last paper, even having it looked at by the writing and media center, and sent it in before the due date, and ended up getting an F on it. Derek had tried to ask Professor Seresin for an explanation on the grade, since he didn’t believe in rubrics or giving proper feedback. But Professor Seresin merely dismissed Derek and others and told them his famous line of “drop date is coming up soon.”

“Do you think something is going on with Y/N and Professor Seresin?” Derek asked Zeke as the two of them walked to class. Zeke looked over at his friend and shrugged, “It’s just. . . she’s ignoring me again. She hasn’t invited me over in weeks!”

“Maybe because she doesn’t like you,” Zeke laughed.

“She likes me.”

“No dude, she doesn’t. Lucy tells me nearly everything they talk about. And Y/N does not like you,” Zeke answered as he opened the door to one of the lecture halls, “And why are you here so early? Your class isn’t for. . . another hour?”

“Going to talk to Professor Seresin,” Derek said, “Ask him about this stupid lecture quiz grade. But I’ll see you later.”

Zeke nodded to Derek and went his separate way towards his class. Derek walked up to the floor of Professor Seresin’s office. He had rehearsed what he was going to say over and over. He was going to demand that Professor Seresin explained the reasoning for his grades and that he raise the grade of his last quiz. Derek fixed the collar of his sweatshirt as he arrived outside the door. He raised his hand to knock on the door, but froze, seeing two people through the crack in the blinds. He squinted as he moved his body over to the side a bit, so he could see through the blinds easier.

“Holy shit,” Derek’s eyes widened as he saw you perched on Professor Seresin’s lap, your hands tangled in his hair, and his lips on yours, “Jesus Christ. . . no wonder he’s been so nice lately. He’s fucking my girl.”

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#top gun fan fic #top gun fan fiction #top gun imagine #top gun au #top gun maverick fan fic #top gun maverick fan fiction #top gun maverick au #Jake seresin fan fic #Jake seresin fan fiction #Jake seresin imagine #Jake seresin au #Jake seresin x reader #Jake seresin x y/n #Jake seresin x you #the professor #professor Jake seresin

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softshuji · 2 years

Text

00:00AM | HAITANI RINDOU

summary: You miss the birthday boy and he misses you. Likes and reblogs appreciated!

cw: afab!reader, briefly suggestive, use of pet names (baby, princess), mentions of possessiveness, marking, brief mentions of violence, mentions of pregnancy.

It’s ten minutes to midnight when Rindou finally slides into bed, his head aching, the pulsing that started off as a gentle thrum now a spiky pressure behind his eyes. He shifts his glasses, all but throws them onto the bedside table and pinches the bridge of his perfect nose, wincing against the flash of white that stabs at his eyelids as he does so.

It’s been a long day to say the least. Demanding, chaotic, and perhaps he can still hear Sanzu’s manic cackle in the recess of his head, Koko’s cursing at the lack of impropriety, Ran’s laughter that bounces off the walls of their shared hotel. He’s glad for the night, and the quiet and the breeze drifting in through the thin slat of the open window, netting caught on the curtain rail.

And for you, he’s glad for you.

He fishes around in his discarded pants on the floor, cursing when his head hits the corner of the bedside table in the elaborately decorated room he’s staying in while overseas, and scrolls till he finds your name.

Y/N, and a little sun emoji next to it, and then a heart, that he hopes to God Ran never sees because he’s not sure he can come back from that one. To say he’s embarrassing when it comes to you would be an understatement.

He knows it’s late, he knows that most likely, the phone has dropped from your palm as you waited on his call, hit the carpet with a soft thud as you sank against the down pillows, the duvet only half covering you as the TV drones on in the back. And he feels a spike of pain and curses the few hours of time difference that separates you. It’s only been three days in truth, another three after this and he’ll be home, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t craving your touch at the end of every day, the soft kiss against the nape of his neck, the slot of your lips against his, the smile he knows is reserved for him. He misses you, plain and simple, and it makes his stomach tighten with anxiety. He’s ashamed to admit to himself that he’s had to be pulled from his reverie, his almost girlish daydream of you on more than one occasion by Mikey who asks, with a tilt of his head, if Rindou is paying attention.

He isn’t. Or at least, he’s trying to.

He squints at the blurriness of the screen, and his thumb catches on the background, the almost vintage, retro shot of the both of you slow dancing at a previous party, his hands on your waist, your head on the flat of his chest and the both of you caught in a moment of bliss. It’s one of many, the graininess of it, the almost candid nature of the shot make it one of his favourites nonetheless and it’s almost easy for him to get lost again, in thinking about the feeling of you against him, your heartbeat a fast and steady thump against his ribs, and his own so loud he’s convinced everyone in Bonten can hear it.

God he really misses you.

He hits dial, the camera flashes as the reflection of his own tired face, purple strands of soft silky hair falling against the curve of his neck lights up the screen. He waits. Rolls onto his stomach and folds his arms to prop his head up, tilting his neck this way and that to loosen the tension prickling at the base of it.

He waits again, and two minutes pass, and Rindou’s eyes are aching against the pressure of keeping them open. He presses his palms to them, pushes down harder than necessary, and drags them down his face, the usual brightness of his luminescent eyes dulled by fatigue.

And then your voice bursts through his headphones, a soft and muted ‘Rinnnnnnnn’ spilling into his ears, and your face comes into focus and Rindou’s heart does a tiny leap inside his chest.

‘Baby,’ you say, your hair shifting into view, and Rindou can tell, by the rough and scratchy cadence of your voice, that you’d been asleep, had probably stayed awake to wait for him. He aches at the thought.

‘Were you asleep Princess?’

‘No, s’okay, I was still awake.’ A lie, he knows that, you both do. ‘Missed you though.’

His lips part. It’s not uncommon for you to lay yourself so bare for him, he knows you hang on his every word, he is the undisputable certainty in your life. He does the same for you.

‘You should be sleeping, you shouldn’t have stayed awake for me.’ It’s stern, or at least it’s meant to be, but it comes out tired instead, exhausted, drawn out, because really after all this time,years and years of dating and marriage, he’s still flattered at the lengths you go for him.

‘Missed you too,’ he adds as an afterthought and his neck heats at the subtle and soporific smile that’s almost heady for him to witness. ‘How was your day?’

In truth, he just wants to hear you talk, a temporary respite from the clamour of his job, the brushing shoulders with people who’d rather see him dead, the leers and the wolfish grins of people who want to sink their teeth into his throat.

You drift momentarily, closing your eyes, your head sinking against your chest, only to open them when you hear the shuffle of bedsheets on the other side, Rin moving positions to stay comfortable, to hold onto you that little while longer. You know he craves these moments, clutches onto them between his fingers, a poor exchange for the fact that he can’t hold you in his arms, but an exchange nonetheless.

He loves you, excessively, meticulously, a physical ache that sometimes feels like a blow to the chest.

He wonders if you know your smile punches at his chest harder than any enemy can, if you know that you knock the wind from him.

It’s a few minutes to midnight when you notice the low pulse of your alarm clock on the bedside table and Rindou is knee deep in a monologue about Sanzu’s antics, Koko’s boring presentations (his words) and Ran.

‘Hey Rin?’ Your voice pulls him from his sluggish thoughts, and his lidded eyes shift from the latticework on the ceiling, the spider that undulates a web between the crystal drops of the chandelier, to your face, brighter than ever with the moonlight leaking in through the window behind you.

‘Hm?’

You glance at the clock, watch the seconds tick by till the day turns, and you know instinctively it was worth staying up for, that you won’t regret the tiredness in the morning for the prospect of being here now.

The clock shifts. 11:59. 00:00

‘Happy Birthday Baby.' It's low, soft, barely perceptible over the thwack of branches on your window, the noise machine whirring in the background and Rindou's eyebrows shoot up in surprise as his gaze shifts to the alarm clock on the bedside table.

'Oh.' He feigns a cough, a poor mask for the strangled cry rising in his throat as he’s caught off guard. It’s not that he’d forgotten, he just hadn’t expected you to remember in such a way, so earnestly. To stay awake till the late hours for him as the sleep descended heavily on your eyes. He flushes, dips his head and scratches at his neck and the fringe of his mullet brushes the screen momentarily.

He smiles, lop-sided with fatigue but a smile nonetheless, genuine and reserved�� for you.

‘Sorry I couldn’t be there Princess,’ he says and means it, because as much as he enjoys strutting about, puffing his chest as his eyes rake over the city, it means next to nothing without you to hang onto his arm, his prized possession, a hand around your waist as you dip your head to his shoulder.

You shake your head. ‘S’okay Rin, just come back to me safely, yeah?’ It’s a request, a demand posed as a question, and you both understand the undertones of it, the weight of what you’re asking, because despite the honesty of your relationship, neither of you are willing to explore that eventuality, that there might be a day when he doesn’t, when perhaps a round from the .22 won’t miss.

‘I will, I promise.’ He holds out his pinkie and locks it with the other, and you do the same on your side. It’s your little thing, the pinkie promise, as if you are still 19 and young and in love. Maybe the former isn’t true but the latter is, you are in love, even now with years of marriage behind you, you find that the novelty of being his has not waned at all, you love him as much if not more now than ever.

‘Do you and Ran have plans?’

He lists them off, the bars, the drinking, restaurants Ran plans to take him to on the one day off they have reserved for this purpose, the day Mikey perhaps loosens enough to let his executives be boys and celebrate in a way that is not so detrimental. If they are lucky, he may even smile. He occasionally drops in a comment here and there, how he wishes you could come, hoping his voice does not betray his need, though he’s long overcome the mental battle of admitting how much he wants you.

‘Wish you could see the skyline right now.’ He’ll say and shift his phone a little so that you can catch a glimpse of the rise and fall of the buildings kissing the sky over his shoulder, twinkling lights that flit in and out of life.

‘I have a surprise for you when you get back.’ You feign nonchalance, as if the strip on the pregnancy test is no big deal, as if you’re not bursting at the seams with love for both him and the baby now growing inside you. You wonder at how he’ll react, at how his lips will part and he will search your eyes for confirmation of his secretly nurtured hope and when you nod with errant tears slipping down your cheeks, he’ll hold you so tight and it will have made the ache of separation worth it.

‘You do? What kind?’

‘I’m not telling you that.’ You grin and Rindou hopes the low level lighting, the darkness that’s cut up only by the moonlight through the window is enough to hide the pink flush that makes a steady crawl towards his ears.

‘You shouldn’t have, Princess,’ he says, his secret elation present in the smile tugging at his lips. A piece of jewelry he thinks, a suit, a date, a matching necklace like you got him once, things like that.

You shrug. ‘I want it to be special for you.’ As if you hadn’t taken Kakucho to the doctor with you immediately, the remnants of an uneaten breakfast left on the table, nurturing that hope as the doctor nodded and all those pangs of morning sickness had suddenly made sense. Kakucho had hugged you, told you he was happy for the both of you and that you and Rin would make the best of parents and you had wished that Rindou was here to see it.

You think of how far you’ve come, how easy it is to love him, how it comes so naturally, and always has done, because he is rough where you are not, he is firm where perhaps you are placid. You find that you don’t have to hurt to love him, there is no jealousy nor resentment, embittered feelings and savage words thrown back and forth. A love like yours is open and freeing, and you think you are the most ‘in love’ lovers on Earth, but maybe all lovers say that, say they are the first and last to experience such freedom. You are convinced that you and Rindou are and while you know it hasn’t always been like this, that it had taken months, years even, of constant persistence, of tiptoeing around him till you found a crack in the marble veneer of his heart to crawl through and make a home in, you don’t regret it.

Rindou yawns, stifles it behind his hand and his eyes scrunch momentarily as he blinks back the sleep sitting heavily on his eyelids.

He rolls his neck and you catch a glimpse of the tattoo at the base of his throat, tinged with the blue of the phone screen’s reflection, his collarbones that are now clear of any telltale signs of your previous markings, little love bites that you had left on his skin as your own way of claiming him, now faded to a muted pink against the soft gold of his skin. You suppress a shiver at the memory.

‘Rin,’ you say and his head turns, eyes glassy and sluggish. At moments like this, when his guard is momentarily down, the corrugated walls of his defences lowered for you and only you, you find he is less timid in his professing his affection for you, his eyes softer, voice lowered to a rough but sultry whisper against the receiver and all of it elicits a suppressed but needy whine from your side, as if he can somehow jump through the screen and slot his lips against yours in a hungry kiss.

‘You should sleep, you have a big day ahead tomorrow.’ A softened whisper dripping down the line, though the both of you know you’re constantly fighting to have these singular precious moments, that time like this,suspended under the pale moonlight is short lived.

He hums, but makes no movement to end the call, only rolls onto his back and watches you with his head angled to the side.

You think he looks beautiful like this. Unguarded, soft around the edges, the sharp creases of him now sanded down and smooth to run your loving hands over. Your skin tingles with it, the need to touch him, to trace the cut of his high cheekbones, the wisps of silky hair, the black ink that decorates his chest, running in arcs and swirls towards his lower abdomen and your stomach tightens with that familiar ache all over again.

‘Oh, you’re giving me orders now?’ A cheeky smile that breaks into a grin when you roll your eyes with exacerbation.

‘You’re always telling me to be healthy, I can’t do the same?’

He clicks his tongue, shakes his head with mirth. ‘I’ll have to punish you when I get back.’

You raise an eyebrow at the suggestion. ‘Oh? And how will you do that Sir?’ A teasing lilt to your voice and Rindou’s skin tingles at the suggestion behind your words, the heat spreading along his neck.

He loves you to a dizzying extent. He loves you to the point of pain. He thinks, no he knows, the delicious ache of you, no matter how painful, is better than a life without. He wonders if you know, if after years of knowing him, you’re aware of just how tightly wound he is around your fingers.

‘Hm, maybe I’ll tie you to the bed, lock your joints so you can’t move.’ And he smirks when your eyes widen with surprise, the quirk of your previously raised eyebrows faltering in shock and desire all at once. He knows you enough to know just what gets under your skin, and really he misses you so much it’s nearly unbearable, nearly cruel even by his standards that he’s spending tomorrow away from you, that this is the closest he can come to you, a phone screen that hardly does justice.

‘Mhm, might even enjoy that Rin,’ you say, your teeth grazing over your bottom lip at the suggestion and Rindou falters, the grin twitching with both mirth and embarrassment. Ran laughs enough as it is at Rin’s antics but he’d have a field day if he knew that a slightly suggestive comment has Rindou writhing in the sheets and covering his face like a schoolgirl with a crush, something he hides constantly behind that cold facade.

‘Yeah, yeah brat whatever.’

You giggle, and his heart trips in his chest. He is convinced that Ran just doesn’t get it, that Ran just hasn’t met that person, the one that makes his heart feel ten times too big for him, like a shirt that doesn’t fit right, like electricity zinging in his blood.

At some point, when Rindou sees your head lolling against your chest in his periphery, bobbing back up and rubbing the sleep-grit from your eyes, fighting against the fatigue that snakes along your temples, does he decide to call it a night, albeit unhappily.

‘Alright Princess, I’m going to head to sleep,’ he says, resisting the urge to grab at the remaining seconds, minutes, hours even till the rosy pink of dawn leaks across the sky.

‘Going so soon Rin?’ You say and pout and Rindou wishes for the umpteenth time tonight he could grab your face and kiss you through the screen.

‘Big day tomorrow remember.’

‘Mhm, have fun okay? Call me?’

‘I will… I’ll miss you.’ A muted whisper, a singular moment of naked vulnerability, shared in the safety of the end to end encrypted call, and only for you and the moon to witness.

‘I know,’ you say, because you do, because you miss him just as much, if not more. So much that you think you’ll die of it sometimes, the ache for him, the need that builds in your stomach and winds two hands around your throat, a pulsing squeeze that has both desire and love, admiration and respect for him curling along your skin. ‘Goodnight Birthday boy.’

He flushes at that, and his laugh is both embarrassed and tinged with corresponding love. ‘Goodnight Princess.’

You reach forward, shuffle on your elbows till you’re face to face with the red dot of the camera. You land a kiss against it, your hair falling against the screen, collarbones peeking through the shirt (his obviously), an exaggerated smack that’s all saliva and wet lips and giggles and Rindou does the same, much to his own chagrin. It’s the tradition for when he’s away, the nightly routine that makes you both feel that slightest bit closer. And it’s pathetic, and lame, and all so very him, the way he replays the sound of your stifled giggle, the image of you pressing your lips to the camera as he presses the red button and tosses the phone onto the bedside table, rolling over in the bed that desperately misses your scent, and dreams of you until the sun climbs over the horizon again.

a/n: I've had this ready for weeks, I was almost too scared to post it. Do let me know what you think guys! Happy Birthday to my heart and soul, ur a big dummy and i love you so much, this, as always is for you

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#tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #haitani rindou #rindou haitani #tr #tokyorev x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #rindou x reader #rindou #rin haitani #haitani brothers

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