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matrixbearer2024 · 2 months

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Roller Rinking, Dancing and Dreaming

Vox x CollegeStudent!Reader

A/N: I went roller skating with some friends and one of them pitched the idea of a date at the roller rink with Vox and Reader, though it's not really a date anymore for those two since the Hazbin Hotel crew tagged along because Charlie didnt realize that this was supposed to be a special occasion. Oh and Alastor is just going to be kind of a sore thumb because it's funny. Also found this pic of Vox(it's not my art and I don't know who drew it HELP-) but it's his getup for his and Reader's date because I will not have this flatscreen idiot take us out in his fucking work clothes. Velvette give this man a proper wardrobe PLEASE-

A/N: I'm probably going to write a lot of date ideas between Vox and (Y/N) to prolong the slow-burn and also so I can include the other characters anyway- so if you guys have any other ideas- go ahead and drop them down below and I'll try to fit the ones I think would work best! As always, happy reading and I hope you guys enjoy!

A/N: Final note- but this was the song I was listening to while writing this long LONG chapter so if you guys wanna vibe to it while reading go ahead lolol- Song's called: "Shut Up And Dance" by Walk The Moon.

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If there was one word Vox would use to describe you, it had to be crazy.

Or cute, but that was besides the point-

He'd always thought your ideas couldn't get any wilder, only to be proven wrong in at the very least a few hours.

Especially when he was reminded of the time you made a papercraft of his clothes while he was stuck to your TV screen.

And the time you sent him earrape audio during a meeting for no reason?

And calling coffee "Bean Juice"?

He could go on and on about the random insane things you would do periodically.

But because he grew so used to it-

More like he always ended up looking forward to your entertaining shenanigans-

The first thing Vox had done was give you a new VoxTech phone with your custom app on it.

At this point, he defaulted to using it if he were to check on you anyway and you had no complaints.

Alastor gave you both shit for bringing tech into the hotel only to get flipped off by the two of you anyway.

Lucifer had to stop himself from laughing because the deer was practically throwing a tantrum at being so nonchalantly brushed off-

Vox chuckled as he reminisced about it.

That was all few days ago, and it seems like you've settled into hell quite nicely.

You made friends with nearly everyone at the hotel, save a certain radio cannibal who you also liked to annoy-

And you'd even met Velvette on one occasion.

Well, more like Vox wanted to fashion you a wardrobe but didn't trust himself to pick good outfit combinations so he just entrusted the task to his fashionista colleague-

What he didn't expect was for the both of you to hit it off fairly quickly after that and ended up staying in touch online.

Vox even wondered at times if you were talking to Velvette more than him already but didn't think about it too much-

You haven't been to the Vee tower since that outfit shopping spree and well, you kind of understood why.

Especially after what you heard about Valentino from both Vox and Angel Dust.

That pimp guy was just someone you did not want to be around.

So that just left your TV headed buddy with no choice but to visit the hotel more and more.

Not that either of you cared much about how irked Alastor got because both of you and sometimes even Lucifer would often gang up on him-

Vox never really stayed, after all redemption didn't seem to be his thing with a whole media empire to run-

But sometimes you would force him to humor Charlie and try some of the activities, teasing him about it and saying he was cringe whenever he got awkward.

Vox just chuckled as he looked back on a lot of the moments you both had together, twirling a pen in his hand while he fondly remembered.

Of course until he eventually forced himself to stop daydreaming and focus back on the stack of paperwork in front of him.

He hadn't even really begun and honestly he didn't know if he wanted to.

It was busy days like these where he couldn't wait to visit and see you, work was stressful enough so just hanging around you and turning his brain off to your nonsense was enough of a distraction.

Ah whatever, that was enough of procrastinating.

It was a little while of him working on and checking the stack of documents on his table before his phone rang.

Vox didn't even bother to check the caller ID and just answered it because he was in work-mode.

So he almost ended up snapping his pen in two from sheer surprise when he heard your voice through the call.

"Heeeeey Vox? You free this weekend?"

The overlord just glanced over at his schedule and figured he could clear up a day or two.

It was only a day until the weekend after all.

He'd have to work double-time until then just to make up for the load but he didn't see a problem with it when the trade-off was spending more time with you.

"I could free up my schedule, why? Did you have something planned dollface?"

"Kinda, I heard there's a new roller rink disco club around the block and I wanted to go!"

"And you're telling me this, why?"

"Because I want you to go with me, duhhhh!"

Vox looked over some of the papers he had on his table absentmindedly and hummed.

Admittedly, you asking him about it first was kind of flattering- even if you knew he was a very busy guy.

He would often drop whatever he was doing just to help you if you needed it after all, so him rearranging his schedule on the fly like this wasn't anything new.

"So kind of like a date?"

He grinned when he heard you stutter and fumble over your words.

The overlord could only imagine just how red and flustered you were at the moment.

You'd always found ways to embarrass him back then when you were alive, so now he was just kindly returning the favor.

"N-no! Well- kind of? I don't know! Just wear something nice!"

"Sure doll, I guess I'll see you then?"

"Mhm, see you!"

Vox stared fondly at his phone when you ended the call, a smile working onto his face as he chuckled.

Who knew it was because of this specific little gadget that brought you guys together in the first place.

Putting the phone down, he cracked his knuckles and gave his table a once over.

It was covered in papers of all kinds but if he started now he could probably get it finished before tomorrow.

You threw your phone onto a nearby cushion and covered your face with your hands.

That stupid TV was too charming for his own good-

You grumbled slightly and crossed your arms, sometimes you doubted if Vox really even meant all the words he says-

Did it come so naturally to him to just be that charismatic?

But at the same time the guy could be a real annoying piece of work-

You really felt like just another sucker who couldn't decide whether you wanted to hug the overlord or strangle him.

"Heya toots! What's got you so worked up?"

"Hey Angel, just- dealing with Vox I guess?"

"Seriously? That's what you're all hung up about?"

"Hey! I'm not- hung up about it-! He's just so annoying."

"For once we can agree on something it seems!"

You screamed when Alastor suddenly appeared at your side, falling off the area of the couch where you were sitting.

If there was one thing you hated that the two media broadcast overlords had in common was that they loved loved LOVED to just sneak up on you.

It was getting really old and really tiring.

Frankly you had already been sick of Vox being a cheeky little shit doing it- you didn't need his rival to join in-

"Nobody asked for your opinion Al, and don't you have some murder to orchestrate or something?"

"HaHA! Not at the moment! Why, if you wanted to join me on my excursions you could've said so my dear!"

"Eugh- hard pass old geezer. Besides, I'll be busy this weekend."

"Really? With what?"

"Gonna go to that new roller rink disco club down the block. I used to go roller skating when I was a kid but eventually stopped as I grew older."

You figured it would be wise to leave out the fact you were going with Vox, you didn't need to arm Alastor any more ammunition to mess with you or his rival.

Thing is, you didn't necessarily notice just what chaos sharing your weekend plans would entail.

"Well if you're already going there, why not take the others with you?"

Oh fuck.

You forgot about Charlie.

Now you really wished you had kept your mouth shut, the last thing you wanted to do was hurt her feelings when she'd been nothing but nice to you.

"Okay hold on-"

Alastor couldn't help widening his grin when he saw your worried expression, well this was certainly going to get interesting.

"What a wonderful idea my dear! Perhaps I should go observe what this brand new establishment has to offer as well!"

"You antique motherfucker-"

Your fluffy deer ears pinned back as you glared at the radio demon, he really had to be toying with you when he said that.

Especially if what Husk had said in the past was anything to go by.

Alastor didn't like going to clubs or places that were similarly just as noisy and obnoxious.

So he was really just trying to shove you deeper into the grave you'd dug yourself.

"That's great Al! Maybe you could even find some more ideas for the hotel while you're there!"

You just covered your face in your hands, so much for just spending time with just Vox this weekend-!

How the hell were you even supposed to tell him about this??

"Yeaaaahhh... greaaaat..."

You weakly mumbled, tiredly looking up at Angel who just gave you an apologetic shrug.

You just gave up trying to mention otherwise when everyone else seemed more than eager for this weekend.

So much for your original plan.

By the time the weekend rolled around, you got yourself all dressed pretty with a casual top and jeans.

You decided against wearing anything that would leave your legs exposed since you didn't know if you'd fall down a bunch while rollerskating.

It was a while since you could remember the last time you tried.

Grabbing your phone and some necessities, you left your room and went to wait in the hotel lobby for the others to get ready.

"Vox where are you going?"

The overlord nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a familiar voice from behind him.

He swiveled around to see the youngest Vee just deadpanning at him.

Geez, and he thought he was being sneaky too.

"Ah! Velvette! Just- heading out. No reason."

"It's your date with (Y/N) isn't it?"

"It's not- oh whatever, what do you want?"

His colleague gave him an annoyed once over and the tech overlord just raised an eyebrow at her.

What was she planning this time?

"You aren't leaving wearing that."

"My suit? What's wrong with it?"

"For the occasion? Everything. Now come on- let's see if I can put something together for you."

While Vox didn't question what his colleague meant, he just followed Velvette to her studio when she gestured for him to.

He initially wanted to wear something other than his work clothes but after looking at the options in his closet he immediately went against the idea.

The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass you by arriving underdressed.

"Nope. Too formal. Too risqué. Too boring. Too colorful- Aha! There! How's that?"

Looking at himself in a nearby mirror, Vox straightened the blazer he wore with a smile.

A light blue turtleneck with some loose slacks and a dark blazer on top, plus a pair of sneakers in his colors to throw together the whole ensemble.

He didn't have his hat this time, but he figured it was probably for the better that he didn't.

Comfortable but still dapper, he liked it.

"Your outfits are impeccable as always Velvette."

"Yeah yeah, you owe me one for this Vox. Now get going or you'll be late!"

The overlord didn't bother to ask his colleague about how she knew about his plans- you could've told her about it online for all he knew.

Instead, Vox just waved back at his colleague as he walked out the entrance of the building feeling excited to see you again.

So you could imagine his irritation when he met you at the club and saw everyone from the hotel there as well.

So much for it being a date-

"What the fuck are they doing here?"

He angrily whispered to you while the others were busy exploring the new building.

Pop music blared over the speakers as the lights flashed around.

A bunch of sinners were skating around the large rink that probably took up more than half of the whole club, some were just dancing around the sides outside of the rink.

It was exactly like an old disco club with the bar and even the older style furniture and aesthetic.

"Charlie suggested everyone come along and Alastor insisted, it wasn't like I had a choice."

You grit out in reply, crossing your arms and feeling slightly just as grumpy about the situation as your flatscreen companion.

"Whatever, we can still enjoy ourselves can't we?"

Admittedly, Vox looked pretty good in this new outfit.

You hadn't seen him in anything but his trademark blue coat and red vest he wore for work so this was something new.

And it was a good new, you'd thank Velvette later.

The overlord just smiled at you and nodded, leaving the others in the group to just explore as you both went and bought some skates for the rink.

More like Vox just didn't want to use the rental ones so he bought you each a pair to keep-

"(Favorite color)? You shouldn't have."

"Figured if I was getting something, might as well get the one you'd prefer."

Your giggle was nearly drowned out by the loud music but Vox still heard it, a soft smile forming on his face as he watched you eagerly put on your new skates.

"Honestly didn't think you'd remember about it, I think I only mentioned it once."

"Kind of hard to forget things when you've got a computer for a brain dollface."

You just lightly bumped his shoulder in jest before standing up and twirling on your new wheels.

Thankfully you could still remember how to work them, even if it was a long time ago since you'd done this kind of thing.

"Do they fit okay?"

"Pretty well actually, how'd you know my size?"

"Just guessed, I might be lucky today."

You just playfully rolled your eyes at his response, of course he'd pat himself on the back for that.

It didn't take long for Vox to eventually wear his own set of skates, he just had no idea how to stand.

"Come on! It's not that hard, I'll teach you!"

The overlord stared at your outstretched hands for a moment before taking them and standing up.

Again with the fuzzy feeling in his chest- what the hell-

The both of you wobbled for a second while your companion got used to the new center of gravity.

"Would you believe it if I said I have never ever done this before?"

"I think it kinda shows ya goof."

You continued to hold his hand as you showed Vox how to move forward, unfortunately for you- his sense of balance wasn't quite that great and you both ended up crashing to the floor.

The overlord landing on his ass and you landing on top of him.

The both of you exchanged a look before bursting into laughter.

You were slightly thankful for the strobing lights of the club, otherwise you were pretty sure Vox would've easily seen the blush on your face.

He was kind of cute when he seemed to just be enjoying himself...

You just shoved that thought to the back of your mind and stood up again, holding a hand out for your companion to take.

"You're not gonna learn if you just sit down like that ya know? Come on! I wanna get inside the rink!"

Vox just looked at you amused, taking your hand and hefting himself to his feet again.

He could practically feel the energy just radiating off you, the bright excitement in your eyes even as you lead him to the entrance of the rink with much less struggle this time around.

You were just adorable, you'd let go of his hand to twirl around the center of the roller rink to the beat of the music.

Vox just found himself smiling again as he approached you.

If being beside you meant he could watch and see you like this?

He would gladly take that position in a heartbeat.

#Youtube #vox x reader #hazbin hotel #vox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin vox #hazbin vox x reader #vox x you #hazbin hotel vox x reader #get off my screen series

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izukuisbaby · 1 year

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⊹˚.⋆ OUR FAVOURITE DILFS WITH A FAMOUS S/O - JUJUTSU KAISEN

℘. flora's notes : I've had this idea forever but I couldn't manage to write it UNTIL NOW. my idea was that reader is a model so it's kind of based on that, though you are free to be famous for whatever reason u want 💀

℘. send me a request ! : i would love to write this for other jjk characters (especially TOJI) but please give me ideas cuz i can't find anything :((

℘. gn, male, female reader 💓

m.list | comment and reblog if you enjoyed ! i am not posting at peek hours i would rly appreciate it if u could reblog w related tags 🥰

★ 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎

℘. he 100% stalked you on your socials and knew everything about you

℘. it's also very likely that he slid into your DMs shamelessly

℘. something cringe like : " what a pretty human in a pretty restaurant, we should go there together sometime 😏"

℘. but we all know this mf, he didn't stop at ONE DM

℘. no, his name is elegantly followed by "9+ messages" all of them being cringe pick up lines to beg you to go on a date with him 😍

℘. and you eventually agreed but it was mostly for him to leave you in peace

℘. he was convinced you'd fall for his charms and unfortunately, he was right... can't blame you I would too

℘. and since your first kiss - which was an officialization of your relationship to him - he would not shut up about it

℘. everytime y'all are out in public he makes it clear he's your boyfriend for the paparazzis

℘. gojo loves attention... so he LOVES paparazzis

℘. he thinks y'all are the most goal couple to exist and brags about it

℘. "y/n, can you imagine what other people must think of us : "the strongest and the most famous (your job of choice), they were meant to be"

℘. you have 100% your own ship name and fanpages, you're labeled as the "hot couple" who is edited on tik tok 24/7

℘. I don't think I insisted enough on how he BOASTS about dating you to whoever shows a spark of interest in his life

℘. the poor nanami hears about it every second of the day and is FED UP with it, but his last straw was when gojo was talking about you to a curse they were suppose to eliminate...

℘. he has you and him on a fun fair date as a wallpaper and purposely leaves his phone on during meetings so everyone can see he's dating you... and also to get yet another occasion to brag

⊹

★ 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

℘. HE WOULD BE SO SUPPORTIVE

℘. he will attend all of your shows and interviews, always on the front row. sometimes walking for a show can be pretty stressful for you but seeing his angel face calms you down and gives you back your confidence in an instant <3

℘. ... he's very active on LinkedIn and he reposts your achievements/front pages with a professional yet sweet and admirative commentary

℘. he likes to go backstage before your shows so he can give you one last forehead kiss and compliment

℘. never hesitates to tell paparazzis to back off, he doesn't like his privacy invaded but he will gladly take pictures of you with a fan for them

℘. his favourite photo that he has everywhere is one a selfie you took before a show with a world renowned brand. you looked so stunning and confident, it never fails to make him smile when he looks at it

℘. i feel like he didn't really know you, just saw you from one or two front pages but it didn't click until you told him you were a (your job)

℘. i don't know why but i think you would have met on a dating app 😭 like nanami is tired of being single and he told gojo about it WHO OBVIOUSLY WAS KIN ON HELPING ! and he got to discover your personality first, which is the most precious part of you in his opinion

℘. because yes you ARE attractive but no one but him knows the part of you that is the most beautiful and he loves that

℘. i think he can't help but be a bit jealous that people simp over you so he would never refuse to take a cute picture for the world to see

℘. on your third date, he asked you to be his partner and gave you a ring as an officialization. since them, you've been wearing it as a lucky charm and you never take it off

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babybluebex · 9 months

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bad idea, right? | joseph quinn x fem!reader

summary: yes, i know that he's my ex, but can't two people reconnect? // aka your ex joseph conveniently texts you to come over just as you're missing him, and who can say no to those eyes? pairing: joseph quinn x fem!reader tags: SMUT (minors dni), thigh riding, teasing, confessions of love, bareback (USE A CONDOM IRL PLEASE!!!), no ejaculation (it's ok, you'll see, just read it) author’s note: i am BACK with a new joe fic, i have been thinking about him NONSTOP ever since miss olivia dropped this song, and it's taken me forever to write this but here we are :) enjoy! follow @babybluebex-writes to be notified whenever i post new fics!

This was such a bad idea. No, it wasn’t a bad idea. It was the worst idea, one of the worst things you have maybe ever done. That bar wasn’t set too high, but the point remained. It was stupid and bad, and you just shouldn’t be doing it. And yet, here you are.

You had been out drinking with your friends, ironically trying to get over Joseph. He was a good man— good enough, at least— and had been a relatively good boyfriend to you, but he was different than everyone else and was itching for more than you were, a family and a life and shit, and you had just wanted to have fun with him, so you had broken it off with him. The breakup had initially happened a few months ago, but your friends had never been able to drag you out of your flat and to a bar until then. There was nothing to mourn, you tried to tell them. We just wanted different things and split amicably, there’s no bad blood there that I need to drink to get over.

Around 11 o’clock or so, your phone buzzed on the bar top, and you glanced down to see a text from a number that your phone didn’t recognize, but you knew all too well. I’m lonely, it said. Would you like to come over?

Your friends were absorbed in their conversation, so you put down your vodka soda and typed out a reply. Joe, you know that’s a bad idea.

I moved. Do you need my new address?

You sighed. Yeah, I do.

There was something about Joseph that you couldn’t place, but it made him irresistible. He was magnetic, he was charismatic, he was attractive and funny and kind, he was everything, but he just wasn’t what you wanted or needed for your relationship. He wanted kids; you didn’t. That was it. He was so irresistible, though, that there was no question about the fact that you would wreck your plans to see him.

“Hey, I gotta go,” you told your friends, and they all booed and awed and asked what was going on.

“Wait,” one of your friends started. “Are you going to see Joe?”

You scoffed, in a way that you hoped conveyed how crazy you thought that was. “No,” you said. “My social battery just ran out all of the sudden. Long day at work, and I’ve got another long one tomorrow and… You know how it is.”

“Alright,” your friend said with a pout. “Be safe, alright? Let us know when you get home.”

You agreed and, with a few hugs and kisses, you went on your way. Joseph had texted you his new address and you plugged it into your Uber app, and, the whole ride there, your leg was jiggling and you were nervous. It was just Joe, it wasn’t like you were going to meet some random guy you met online (although Joe had started out as some random Hinge match). You had dated him for two years, you knew him, so why were you nervous?

He was grinning at you when you reached his place on the second floor, an easy sort of smile that you remembered loving. “Hi,” he said softly, reaching out for you, and you took his hands, smiling back at him.

“Hey,” you said. “So, this is your new place, right?”

“Yeah,” Joseph said with a shrug. “It’s not much, but it’s alright.”

You stepped inside and set down your bag next to the door, along with your jacket and shoes, and you examined the front room. The new flat was definitely smaller than the one you had shared together, the kitchen all smushed up next to the den, with the smallest hallway leading down to the bathroom and bedroom, and you settled on the couch easily. “I like it,” you said, your eyes going to his bookcase next to his television. A biography of Caracalla sat open, and you shook your head. “It’s cute. Very you.”

“Thank you, love,” Joseph said. He sat down beside you and put his arm along the back of the couch behind you, and you inched a little closer to him.

“Isn’t it a little… Silly?” you started, and you began to chew on your lip.

“What is?” Joseph asked.

“This dumb little dance we have to do,” you said. “Like we both don’t know why I’m here. We have to pretend, like, ‘Oh, I like your apartment’, ‘Oh, how have you been’, y’know?”

“Well, we don’t have to pretend,” Joseph said. “We can just… Get started.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled. “But I don’t wanna, like, just come over and fuck and leave.”

“So…” Joseph started. “You want genuine small talk?”

You shrugged. “I guess,” you said. “How have you been?”

“Honestly,” Joseph started. “Pretty bad. I’m so used to coming home and having you here, I find myself so lonely and bored and… I don’t know. It’s been a few months, I thought I’d get over… Whatever this is.”

“That’s alright,” you said. “I’ve been missing you a lot too. I miss our old apartment… The bathtub was so nice and big.”

“Yeah,” Joseph chuckled. “You remember when we took a bubble bath together and lit candles? That was nice.”

“Yeah,” you agreed wistfully. It went quiet then, both of you trying to avoid the obvious, and you finally sighed. “This is a bad idea, right?”

“Probably,” Joseph said. You looked over at him to find him already looking at you with those damned chocolate puppy eyes, and you tilted your head a bit, your eyes lingering on his lips. That’s something that you missed about him; he was a damn good kisser.

“Fuck it, it’s fine,” you said quickly, and you leaned in, pressing your lips to his. His arm around your shoulders dragged you close to him, and he kissed you back, letting his lips mold against yours. You moaned softly, taking in the familiar taste of him, and you shuffled to sit across his lap. His hands went to their usual spots in the back pockets of your jeans, squeezing and kneading your ass as his tongue slipped inside your mouth, and you raked your fingers through his hair. You don’t remember him doing his hair across his forehead like this the last time you saw him, but maybe he did, but it really didn’t matter. He was hot as fuck, and he wanted you.

“Fuck,” Joseph whispered as he broke the kiss. His focus went to your smooth neck, kissing and lightly sucking and making you moan again, and his hands drifted out of your back pockets and went to the front of your pants, popping the button open with ease. “Pretty girl…” he mumbled, and you giggled as he started to edge your pants down. The angle was awkward, definitely, and you shuffled to stand up and take down your pants. Joseph dipped down on the couch a little to pull off his sweatpants (grey, soft, the kind you once told him make his dick look good), and he discarded them to the side as you straddled one of his big thighs. This was always one of his favorite things, having you ride his thigh, and he looked gleeful when he realized that that’s what you were doing. “Oh, yeah?” he asked, and you smiled, flexing your hips down and starting to drag yourself along his hard thigh.

“I remember you liked this,” you told him, and Joseph’s throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly, letting his head fall back as you started up a rhythm, letting yourself glide along his leg. He mumbled and cursed, his big hands falling to your hips, but he didn’t control you; he was just holding you, feeling you, loving on you.

“I do,” he mumbled. “God… Yes, sweet girl, just like that.”

You whimpered as your clit brushed your stretched panties, and Joseph looked up, a sly smile on his lips. You loved when he watched you, and you made sure to move your body smoothly— all the better of a show for him. “Yeah,” he mumbled, biting his plush bottom lip. “That feel good?”

You hummed out a positive sound, digging your fingernails into his shoulders through his jumper. “God, Joey,” you sighed, and you lilted your head to watch him as his eyelashes fluttered and he sighed with you. "Missed you."

"I missed this too," Joseph said. "Take off your panties, I wanna feel you."

You couldn't help but oblige him, and you lifted yourself from his leg and stripped off your modest underwear (you weren't exactly thinking ahead when you got dressed to go out, and you certainly weren't expecting Joe to text you). The feel of his warm skin on your pussy made your stomach swim with butterflies, and you put your hands on the back of his neck, just at where the curls ended. God, those curls. You pulled him into a kiss and moaned into his mouth, and you tugged on his curls to make him whine.

"Don't tease me, baby," he told you in a low voice, and you smiled and continued on your path, absolutely set on teasing him now. Your hips slowed, and you nestled your mouth right in the crook of his neck, setting soft kisses on his skin. "Oh, fuck, you're an evil woman, did you know that?"

"Yeah, well," you shrugged noncommittally, and Joe grabbed you around your waist and pulled you off of him. Roughly— rougher than usual?— he pushed you down onto the couch, and he settled himself on top of you, his thick thighs caging you in. You watched greedily as he righted himself and stripped off his jumper, exposing the little soft hairs on his chest; now, without the baggy jumper, you could fully see his hardening cock, rising to lay against his tummy.

"Like what you see?" Joe chuckled lightly, and you realized just how hard you had been staring at him.

"How could I not?" you asked. You reached out for his cock, taking his length in your hand, and you stroked him easily, base to tip, squeezing when you got closer to his balls— just the way he liked. He hissed in a sharp breath through his teeth as his eyes grew three times their size, and you smiled.

"Thought you'd've forgotten about that," Joe laughed breathlessly, and he edged back on the couch, aligning his hips with yours. Apparently, it seemed as if speed was the name of the game tonight, and it almost hurt your heart to think that he just wanted to hook up with you. You knew that coming to his place wouldn't end with a reconfession of love and for him begging for you to stay, but it stung to know that he was just trying to get you out as quickly as possible.

"I could never forget," you said, hoping that he could see through your words and see your teary eyes, hear your thick throat, feel your loss. You loved him, and the breakup hurt, but it was better being apart. But was it really?

"I wouldn't want you to," Joe told you, and he pursed his lips for a moment before he spit down onto your pussy. "You think I can ever forget you?"

You lined up the head of his cock with your hole, watching as he throbbed in your hand, and he sank his hips forward. The feel of the stretch had you gasping, and you moaned as he slid inside you, nestling perfectly. "Hey," Joe said firmly, and you looked up from the show to see him earnestly staring down at you, his eyes... Wet? Tearful? "You don't think I could ever forget you, do you?" he asked, and you bit the inside of your cheek.

"Not now, Joe," you mumbled.

"Yes, now," Joe insisted.

"You're inside me," you protested, and Joe gathered you in his arms, holding you tightly as he began to fuck you. The pleasure made your breath hitch, and Joe buried his face in your neck, kissing the slender column of your throat.

"We can talk and fuck at the same time," Joe said. "God knows we've done worse and fucked at the same time."

"But talk about this?" you asked. "Joey—"

"I can't sleep without you," he said softly. "Every time I wake up alone, my first thought is that you're using the toilet and that you'll be right back. I can hardly relax without your feet in your side... You really did take up the whole of the bed."

"Joe—" you started again, but he shook his head, his curls thwipping you in the face.

"And I can't eat," he continued. "I miss your cooking, and what's the point of eating anyway if you're not gonna steal bits of it off my plate?"

"Don't say that," you frowned. You were still acutely aware of his cock inside you, ebbing and flowing with the movement of your bodies, but, slowly, you came to realize exactly what this was. Maybe this was a reconfession of love. Maybe he would beg for you to stay. Maybe he was more than lonely tonight, and was just rushing the sex to get to the part where he asked you to come back to him. "That's not... Fair. I'm doing better without you."

"What a lie," Joe chuckled mirthlessly. "You're not wearing your favorite going-out dress, you're not even wearing mascara. You didn't want to leave the house tonight, but you did. Why?"

"My friends dragged me out," you said.

"Exactly," Joe said. "You'd rather stay home and rot in bed, because you're just as miserable without me as I am without you. Admit it, we were so good together, don't you want that again?"

"Joe," you started. "We broke up because you wanted kids, and I didn't. That's not something you can compromise on, that's not a conversation you can table for later. We broke up because we wanted different things, and that's okay."

"But I want you back," Joe said. "I need you back. Please, we can compromise on this. We can... Fuck, I don't know, we can get a cat. Or a puppy, or a lizard, or whatever the fuck it takes for you to come back to me."

Before you could say more, your phone buzzed in your purse on the floor just by your head, and you sighed as you reached for it, any distraction welcome. Your friend was texting you: Make it home ok?

Yeah, you answered quickly. Going to sleep. Talk tomorrow xx.

"Joe," you started. "I... I only see you as a friend now. I don't think I can return to what we had."

"That's the biggest lie you've ever said," Joe told you. "If I was just a friend, would you have come over tonight?"

"Yes!" you said. "Because I'm a good friend! You said you were lonely, and I wanted to come help—"

"Oh, God, there was an undertone, and you know that," Joe cringed. "Don't act like you didn't know exactly what this was."

"Fuck," you mumbled. "Joe, I— Can we wait until we're done fucking?"

Joe sighed and, setting his jaw, angled his hips back and pulled out. He went in search of his clothes quietly, and you did the same, and, as you were zipping up your trousers, you said, "I guess I just don't... Don't see how we can have what we had. Not now, not knowing that we want our futures to be so different."

"We don't have to have what we had," Joe said. "We can have something completely new. We can make something entirely different, entirely our own, whatever we want. Please?"

You looked up from your jeans to see him looking at you. He had shaved his facial hair down to nothing, and you frowned to look at it. "I hate the way you do your hair now," you mumbled. "And I wish you'd grow your mustache back out."

Joe shrugged. "Maybe I will," he said. "If you want me to."

"I do," you said. "And we can get a cat, but you have to do the nasty shit, cleaning up after it and everything. We can... We can get back together, if you... If you promise you'll never leave me again."

Joe stepped towards you and wrapped you in a tight embrace, and he kissed the top of your head. "Never again, love."

#joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn x you #joe quinn x reader #joe quinn smut #joe quinn x you

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inmyicyworld · 11 months

Text

I can't let you get hurt

Bucky Barnes x Reader (brother’s best friend AU)

Summary: you have just moved to New York, where your adopted brother Steve has been living for 5 years. Desperate to make new friends, you give the dating app another go. You didn’t even think that you would have to ask for help from the person who has not left your thoughts for the past month - your brother’s best friend.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: language, reader is Steve’s adopted sister, creepy John Walker, John is commenting reader's clothes, Bucky is a big softie, protective Bucky, idiots in love, fluff.

Author’s note: I’ve wanted to finally start writing for a long time. so I decided to share my thoughts and dreams about this man (aka my husband). English is not my first language and I’m really sorry if you find any mistakes. it’s my first attempt to trying to write in English so I hope it’s not that bad.

masterlist my ao3 ko-fi

Moving to New York was the idea that has been sitting in your head for a long period of time. Since your adopted brother Steve finished high school, he moved there without any money, without friends, and only with a lot of desires and dreams. You stayed in your small town with your and Steve’s adopted parents because you were only fifteen at the time. It’s been almost five years, and right now he owns an auto repair shop, and as far as you know, it’s a pretty successful place.

You knew that you had nothing to lose; you had no opportunities in your city, no close friends, and it was a really boring and gray life.

Steve only visited you two times, but you regularly spoke on the phone. So when your plane finally landed and you met him, you were kind of a crying mess. He was still your closest person, and you loved him with your whole heart. Steve was now much bigger, with broad shoulders and arms that were probably the same size as your head, but he still had that golden retriever energy, which you really loved.

Steve helped you find your apartment building, where you rented a small and cozy flat from a nice old lady. It wasn’t too much—just a bedroom and living room connected with a tiny kitchen and bathroom. Everything was clean, with light furniture and a lot of plants. It was actually surprising that this place had an affordable rent, and you were happy that luck was on your side.

On the next day, your brother finally showed you his famous place, which he owned with his now best friend Bucky Barnes. And talking about him, he was something else. A tall, big man with fluffy chocolate hair, stubble, and the most beautiful blue eyes you've ever seen. You knew that you were fucked as soon as he looked you directly in the eyes, shook your hand, and gave you a charming smile.

You met almost everyone in the garage. All the guys were super nice and friendly, they even showed you all of their cars that they were working with. You were happy that Steve found such a family here, they were all obviously so close to each other.

Yet, after a month here, you had almost no friends. You found a job in the coffee shop down the street, where you met an amazing redhead girl named Wanda. You chatted a lot during the work, but you two were still far from friends.

That's how you ended up here. On a date with John.

For some reason, you decided to give that stupid dating app another try. John found you there, and he seemed nice, so when on the second day he decided to invite you to a bar, you agreed without hesitation.

How long has it been since the last time someone asked you out? Year? Yes, it was a little sad to realize that no one was particularly interested in you. Before moving to New York, all the guys you talked to seemed to only want one thing, so you had high hopes for John.

Your evening went well at first. You ordered a drink and chatted. He really seemed nice. After the second drink, you decided to stop for a bit because the alcohol started to take a toll on your head, even though John was pushing you hard with the new drink he brought you.

"You know, I think I better slow down with cocktails; I really don’t want to be drunk and embarrass myself on the first date." You pushed your glass back a little, smiling politely.

"Oh, c'mon, baby, don’t upset me." John chuckled and put his hand on yours. You awkwardly smiled, not ready for such physical contact. "You’re here alone, right?" He tilted his head, and you didn't miss how his eyes stopped at your boobs.

"Um, not exactly... I mean, I know like five people in this city, and one of them is my brother. But we don’t live together; he has his own life." John nodded his head and leaned a little closer to you.

"So it means that we can have some fun, right, baby?"

"Fun?"

"Mhm." One of his hands stayed on top of yours, and the other one suddenly fell on your leg. Your body tensed at the feeling of his fingers as they started to rub the bare skin of your inner thigh. You definitely didn’t expect it to happen. "I’ll take an Uber; we’ll go to my place, and we can continue our night. What do you think?"

"I didn’t want to—I mean, that’s not what I was looking for—I thought that we were going to just talk and drink, you know…" You tried to take his hand off of you, but his grip only became harder.

"Don’t try to run away now, baby." He grinned. "You dressed up for me, huh? Your tight little dress that shows your boobs says it all. You just want me." You felt goosebumps all over your body because of his look. It was intense and not as innocent as it was before. You felt disgusted because of his words. You wanted to look good, yes, but seducing him wasn’t part of your plan.

So what are you going to do now? You felt unsafe, and you didn’t know how you could escape this situation. He was obviously a creep, and he just wanted to have sex with you. You can’t go home because either he won't let you go or he might find out where you live.

"O-okay- um- just let me- I’ll go to the restroom real quick, and we can go, okay?" You nervously smiled and stood up, almost spilling your cocktail.

"Someone’s excited, huh?" He laughed, looking at your body up and down.

You left without an answer. You really went to the restroom because the bar was half empty, and John would’ve definitely seen you going out. Luckily, the restroom was empty. You locked the door and looked at yourself in the mirror for a few seconds, trying to figure out what to do.

You reached into your purse to get your phone. The first person that came to mind was Steve. Only long beeps were heard, and after the third call, you gave up.

"Fuck, Steve, I really need you right now." You scrolled through your contacts again. It wasn’t a lie that you knew five people from New York. Steve was not answering his phone. Your two neighbors, Natasha and Wanda from work, were not your close friends, so it would’ve been weird to call them because of this. There was a number of an old lady who rented you an apartment, and she was obviously not an option. And there was another person.

Bucky.

Calling him in this situation was the last thing you wanted to do. Hell, he probably won’t even answer you because he thinks that you’re just his best friend’s little sister, and he’ll definitely make fun of you about this stupid date. But you had no other variants.

"Hello?" He picked up his phone almost immediately, and you even forgot what you wanted to say. "Y/N? Are you okay?" His deep voice was full of worry, and you couldn’t help but feel butterflies in your stomach.

"H-hey, Bucky. Um… I’m really, really sorry that I’m calling you, but Steve is not picking up his phone. Do you know where he is?" You walked around the small room, trying to calm down.

"Yeah, he’s meeting with some girl he's been talking about for days. He’s probably really busy right now." He chuckled, and you felt like you were about to cry. Bucky must’ve heard your breathing change because he immediately went silent. "Doll? What happened?"

"My God, it’s so stupid…" You squeezed your eyes, not wanting to cry.

"Tell me."

"I’m at the bar. I’m on a date with a guy named John, and he became very persistent. He wants me to go to his place, but It’s- I’m not interested in this. And I can't just leave because I’m afraid that he can follow me and find out where I live… fuck I really don’t know what to do, and I wanted to ask Steve to pick me up." Your phone stayed silent for a few moments, and you already thought that he got tired of your mess and just ended the call. "Bucky?"

"Where are you? What bar? Are you in the restroom?" His voice was low, and you knew that he wasn’t happy with all of this.

"It’s that new place a few blocks away from my crib. With big neon red signs at the top. And I’m in the restroom right now."

"I’ll be there in five. Stay there and don’t open the door until you know it’s me." He said that and ended the call, leaving you nervous and excited at the same time.

The loud knock on the door almost made you jump. Fastly, but quietly, you reached there and tried to listen for any signs of who it could be.

"I hear you. Open the door; it’s me." The familiar voice came from behind the door.

You opened the door and met Bucky’s beautiful blue eyes. He seemed a little bit out of breath, as if he had run here. You quickly scanned his body, and the fact that he was wearing your favorite leather jacket made you weak in the knees. His dark brown locks that curled at the ends almost asked you to touch them. It’s not your fault that this idiot always looked ridiculously hot every single time.

"C’mon, let’s get you home, doll." He grabbed your hand, leading you out of the bathroom to the bar, where you immediately saw a clearly annoyed John. You saw that Bucky looked at him too, but he stopped only when you were already on the street and when your bad date ran after you, loudly calling your name.

"Hey! Where the fuck are you going? We were supposed to go to my place! You already found someone else to fuck or what?" He yelled, grabbing your other hand at the same time. You felt Bucky quickly move you behind him while still holding your wrist.

"Don’t fucking touch her. She’s leaving, and if I ever see you near her again, I'll rip your useless hands off. Understood?" Bucky growled, straightening his body. He was obviously bigger than John, who was now less brave. John looked at you for a few seconds as he was thinking about what he should say to you, but then just turned around and left. Apparently, you weren't worth it.

You don’t know whether it was the cool night air or this whole tense situation that made you tremble. You felt Bucky’s warm body get closer to you, and his large, calloused hand rested on your shoulder. It made you feel a little bit fuzzy because you were trying so hard to hide your little, big crush on your brother’s best friend. Yeah, it was the biggest cliche, but you can’t even blame yourself. He was extremely beautiful, with those blue eyes, rosy lips, and a body that you knew was built like God's. Not to mention that Bucky was sweet and a true gentleman.

"You’re shaking, doll. Wait a second." He started to take off his jacket, and you tried to stop him.

"Bucky, no, what are you doing? You don’t have to; it’s not even that cold!" He just playfully rolled his eyes and still threw a jacket over your shoulders, leaving himself only in the tight black shirt. God, this man

A sudden wave of his cologne surrounded you. Bucky always smelled good. Something clean with a spicy and woody scent The leather was still warm from his body, and you fought against the desire to bury your nose in it. You didn't even realize that you actually did it, so when you opened your eyes, you saw Bucky, who had this annoying grin on his face.

"So you like it, huh?" He chuckled.

"Oh, shut up; I didn't want to do that."

"Of course, doll. But we should go, I have to take you home safely, right?" Bucky said, leading you to the parking lot. To a motorcycle.

"A motorcycle?" You asked Bucky as you stepped closer to him. "No, I—where’s your car? I’ve never ridden on one of those." He had already sat there and had two helmets in his hands.

"I left it in the garage and didn’t want to make you wait here for too long. But you don’t have to worry; I know what I'm doing, and I won't let you get hurt. I promise." You came closer to him and let him put a helmet on you. You really tried not to tremble as his hands gently fixed it under your chin. "Now sit behind me and put your legs here." He pointed at the weird looking thing.

You felt weird as soon as you sat in the passenger seat. Bucky was so close, and you could feel the warmth of his body even if it was cold outside. Where should I put my hands? Hug him? Put it behind me? You awkwardly placed it on your own legs, and Bucky must’ve immediately felt your tense body because you heard a chuckle, and the next moment he grabbed your hands and put it around his waist. "You should put it right here, doll. You don’t wanna fall, do you?"

You slightly shook your head before you placed it on his back. It was really hard to control yourself when your hands were laying on his hard press. For fuck’s sake, he should be perfect everywhere, huh?

"Hold on tight, Darlin'." You heard another deep chuckle, and he finally put his helmet on.

You don't know how long you were driving, but when Bucky finally pulled up outside your apartment building, you felt sad and happy at the same time. The ride was something else. This man almost gave you a heart attack when you stopped at a red light and he put his hand on your bare leg and asked if you were okay.

He’s just being nice, stop overthinking this.

You knew Bucky for only one month, but it was hard not to fall for him. He was an attractive, kind, and really generous man; you knew that he was like a part of Steve's family. Sometimes, when you visited your brother and accidentally met Bucky, for a few seconds you thought that maybe he finds you attractive. You always caught him looking at you.

But you knew this type of guy—always charming and flirting—who could have pretty much anyone. It was stupid of you to think that he saw you as something more than just Steve’s little sister.

"See, I told you that I was a good driver and that you'd get home safely." He hopped off the motorcycle and stood before you while you were trying to take the helmet off. "Let me unlock it."

"Thank you, Bucky." You said when you were finally free. "For this, for the jacket... You were probably very busy, and I just ruined your night by making you take care of me. Oh my god, I’m really sorry. I just wanted to forget about one person, and I thought that going on that stupid date would be a good idea, but it seems like the only thing that men want here is sex." You chuckled and watched to the ground.

"Now listen to me, doll." Bucky suddenly stepped closer to you, and you almost fainted when both of his hands took your face and forced you to look him right in the eyes. "You shouldn’t apologize for calling me. I was just hanging out with the guys from the garage, but as soon as you called me, I left everything because I can’t let you get hurt." He nervously licked his lips, and you hope that he didn’t notice how you stared at this movement. Bucky’s hands left your face and ended up on your upper arms. Did he come closer to me? "I don’t know who you were trying to forget about, but I hope that he or she is worth your time."

"We– we’re not really close. I’m probably not even his type." You shrugged. Bucky’s jaw clenched, and he buried his hands in the jeans pockets, as if he was angry and tried not to show you.

"Is it someone from the garage?" His head was a little bit tilted to the side, and you knew that right now he wouldn’t shut up about it until you gave him a name. "Maybe Sam? Or Thor? Many girls like him, you know. Do you like show-offs like Stark? Or…"

"You."

You both were silent.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. What were you thinking?

"Say it again." Your throat felt dry, and you just stared at him, not knowing what to do.

"I– Just forget about it, Bucky. It’s stupid–"

You weren't able to finish because a soft pair of lips interrupted you. One of Bucky’s hands cupped your face, lifting you up to his level, and another one laid on your waist. He was soft, warm, and gentle when his lips moved on top of yours. Your head was in the clouds, and it felt like your knees became weaker. You wrapped your arms around Bucky’s neck, completely melting into him. He wanted to stay like this forever. Your skin and your lips were so soft, he could smell your perfume and taste your sweet lip gloss. But he knew that he should stop and do it the right way. After a few seconds, he finally pulled away, but he put his forehead on yours, and it was so cozy, like you two were in a bubble.

"I’m sorry. Was this too much? I overstepped?" He licked his lips as if he were trying to get more of your taste. "I have been thinking about asking you out since the day I saw you. I wanted to do it right. To take you on a date, to be the gentleman that you deserve, and maybe get a kiss on the cheek at the end of the night. Sorry. I didn’t even know that you liked me." Bucky wrapped his hands around your waist, and you nuzzled into hisneck,k enjoying his scent.

"And I didn’t know that you liked me either. "I thought that you felt obligated to take care of me because I'm your best friend’s sister."

"No, I promise you." He kissed the top of your head. "But Steve’s gonna kill me, by the way. He told all of us that you’re not an option and that we can’t touch you."

"Well, I love him, but he can’t decide for me."

"So… Does this mean that you’ll say ‘yes’ if I ask you to go on a date with me? On Sunday, maybe?" You lifted your head to look at him properly, and God, he was so cute when he was nervous.

"Of course, Buck, I wanna go out with you." You smiled at him, and he lowered himself again to give you another sweet kiss on the lips.

"Fuck, you should go home, doll." You’re too sweet for your own good. Wanna save you all for myself." He mumbled against your lips. "Go."

"Goodnight, Bucky. Please text me when you get home, ‘kay?"

"I will. Night, Doll." You left a soft kiss on his stubbled cheek before finally turning around to go home.

Only at home did you realize that you were still wearing his jacket. At least it was a good excuse for Bucky to see you again sooner. That night, you both ended up texting for hours until you couldn’t keep your eyes open.

Maybe a date with John wasn’t that bad of an idea.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #bucky fic #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky x y/n

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formula1neverleft · 2 years

Text

Shameless - Arthur Leclerc

Pairing: Arthur Leclerc x Fem!reader

Summary: Your tinder date is alright. His roommate is just better.

Warnings: smut, swearing, me refusing to write anything other than the -we shouldn’t be doing this- trope :))

Words: 4.5k words of breaking bro code

Author’s note: not my best work but I just had to get this man out of my system.Took some creative liberties to make it a college!AU so let’s just pretend that makes sense lmao. Also my French is doubtful at best so if you are a native french speaker and catch me writing absolute nonsense no you didn’t :)) Not proofread. Feedback very much appreciated!! Enjoy xx

You had told yourself it would never come to this.

When your best friend first brought up the idea of downloading a dating app, you almost choked on the wine you had been drinking. During a night out she had been telling you non stop how you were too picky when it came to men, and that you just had to ‘put yourself out there’, whatever that meant.

You wouldn’t say ‘picky’ was the right word exactly, more that for you there was a difference between finding a guy-good looking or nice, and actually being attracted to them.

The idea of having to advertise yourself only for a guy to decide within approximately seven seconds if you had potential or not, made you cringe internally. But that was months ago, and you had to admit that between school and serving overpriced lattes to other students in the on-campus coffee shop, you had gotten bored…and lonely.

Bored and lonely enough to download Tinder after tossing and turning in your bed for over an hour. Without thinking about it too much, you threw some pictures of yourself onto your profile and got to work. In the dark of your room, your phone screen the only source of light, it was easy to get over the initial embarrassment of it all and just give it a shot.

After a while, you had gotten a few matches, but had absolutely no idea how to start a conversation on here to save your life, so instead you opted for putting your phone down and trying to sleep once again, the monotone action of swiping left or right having made you just the right amount of tired.

The next morning as you got ready for class, you had received a message from one of the tinder guys.

New message from Oscar:

Hey, Y/N :) how’r you doing?

He was cute, and looked like a nice enough guy. You remembered he had some pictures in racing attire, and that made him seem slightly more interesting. At the very least it gave you a conversation starter if you were to go out. You replied to him as you made your way out of the apartment, and continued to message back and forth the rest of the day.

After about a week of sporadically messaging Oscar, he offered to take you out next friday. He hadn’t made a huge impression, but to be honest neither had you, texting had never really been your thing, so perhaps meeting up would give you an idea if this was something to pursue or not. You accepted, and you agreed on dinner and a movie at his place, being that his roommate would be out that day.

You really hoped you weren’t gonna regret this.

The walk to Oscar’s apartment was cold and miserable, the rain promptly undoing the effort you had put into your hair earlier. When you arrived outside his building, you caught a glimpse of yourself in one of the windows and quickly tried your best to make yourself look presentable again before ringing the bell that had ‘Piastri/ Leclerc’ written on it, the last few letters were smushed together to make it fit on the small line of paper, making you chuckle slightly.

Oscar opened the door and greeted you with a kiss on the cheek as he showed you up to his apartment on the third floor. It was clearly inhabited by two college boys, the questionable interior design choices and posters that littered the wall a dead give away. You could tell he had put in effort though, it was tidy and the small table in the middle of the room had been set nicely.

“Uhm, I’d show you around but, this is kind of it” Oscar said as he scratched the back of his head.

“It’s nice actually, way bigger than the shoebox me and my roommate live in” you chuckled as you placed your jacket over your chair. Oscar quickly moved to pull out your chair for you.

“wow, a true gentleman, huh?” you smirked as you took your seat.

“Yeah, I try, I haven't been on a date in ages so I’m, uh, trying my best. I made us pizza if that’s alright with you. I was going to ask you what you wanted but It’s kind of the only thing i know how to make, so”

The dinner went by fast and luckily without any awkward silences. Oscar told you the full story about why he was studying here as an Australian.

“I’ve always wanted to be a professional driver, but my parents want me to have a ‘back-up’ plan in case that doesn’t work out, so I decided to study here while training in Europe, that’s how I met Arthur, he was in the same boat as me” he explained before taking another bite of his food.

“Your roommate, right? Is he also from Australia?” you asked.

“Oh god no, pretty sure he wouldn’t last a day out there. Not really a bug person ya know. He’s from Monaco. Basically means he’s french but not really”

When the two of you finished your food, you helped Oscar with cleaning the table despite his protests, and just as you were about to ask what movie he wanted to watch, the sound of keys rattling and the door opening took both of you by surprise.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me” Oscar muttered as he ran a hand through his hair.

You were soon greeted by a blonde boy standing in the middle of the room, looking at you like a deer in headlights.

“Arthur, mate, what are you doing here? Thought you’d be out?” Oscar spoke as he approached the boy. So this was the roommate he’d been talking about.

“Yes I was, but now I am back. You did not say how long I needed to be gone. I cannot study any longer than I already have” Arthur said as he raised his hands in defense, a thick french accent lacing his words. Oscar looked dejected, and slightly panicked as he turned back around to face you.

“Sorry, Y/N, I had no idea he’d be here, maybe we can go to the cinema if you don’t wanna watch a movie here or-”

“Oscar, you have still not introduced me to the girl, this is impolite, no” Arthur gave Oscar a pat on the back as he stepped closer.

“Y/N, Arthur, my roommate. Arthur, this is Y/N”

You smiled politely towards the boy, slightly taken aback when he closed the space between you to take your hand and placed a quick kiss on the top of it.

“Bonjour, Y/N” Arthur replied with a smile of his own, and for a few seconds both you and Oscar were too stunned to speak. His smile was genuine and sweet, and you found the gesture more endearing than anything. You had barely managed to mutter a quiet ‘nice to meet you’ when Arthur dropped your hand and disappeared in one of the rooms. Oscar approached you with an apologetic look in his face.

“Yeah, I told you he’s French,” he joked as he tried to regain his composure.

“But seriously, we can head out if you want-”

“No, it’s okay. We can watch it here” you interrupted him, you would rather spend the rest of your date here so you could get to know Oscar a little better, rather than the forced silence that accompanied the cinema.

Oscar looked somewhat surprised by your answer, but accepted it anyway and invited you to sit down on the small L- shaped sofa in the corner of the room. After a short debate you had convinced him to watch Pride and Prejudice, but it took you less than twenty minutes to realize he was trying really hard to pretend to like it. The movie served more as background noise anyway as you continued to chat about the typical first date topics, mostly school and hobbies. During the conversation, Oscar rested his arm on the back of the sofa towards you, a classic move that made you hold back a smile. After about an hour, you had focused back on the movie for a while, only to realize Oscar had somehow fallen asleep in the last ten minutes, his head slumped into his own shoulder as his chest raised rhythmically.

Great job Y/N, maybe go for a comedy next time, you thought to yourself as you awkwardly shifted on the sofa, not wanting to wake him but not exactly knowing what to do either. You eventually settled on letting the movie finish and hope by then he would wake up on his own accord, until the sound of a door opening made you turn your attention away from the film once again.

“Oscar I promise I will leave, I'm just thirsty” Arthur was already rambling until the sight of you next to Oscar’s sleeping frame made him stop in his tracks.

“Oh no, mate…” Arthur said with a disapproving look on his face, “This is why I tell him to stop studying until two in the morning, it just messes up the sleep schedule”

“I should probably let him sleep then, huh?” you wondered out loud.

“Maybe that is a good idea, yes”

A few seconds of silence passed between the two of you, Arthur was staring at you, taking you in, and you shifted under his gaze, feeling exposed somehow.

“Did he even offer you a drink?” Arthur said as he walked towards the fridge to examine his options. “Ok, so we have…water and beer, maybe that is why Oscar did not offer you anything”

You stood up from the couch as you were careful not to wake Oscar.

“Actually I’m gonna head home, It’s getting late and I have work in the morning, so-”

“Okay, I will walk you home then, let me get my jacket”

“No! No, you don’t have to do that” you protested, but he had already disappeared back into his room and came out soon after. You quickly scribbled a note for Oscar so he wouldn’t think you were rude just leaving without a goodbye.

Thanks for the pizza and the company

Get some more sleep next time ;)

(and I’ll choose a better film)

xx Y/N

You placed the note on the sofa next to Oscar and turned around to see Arthur grab two beer bottles and store them in his jacket pockets. You grinned in response as he looked at you, caught in the act.

“One for the road, no?” he smiled and gave you a wink as he held the door open for you. This night had not at all ended up the way you’d expected it to, but you weren’t complaining.

The walk back to your apartment seemed to be significantly shorter than it had been earlier that night, as you and Arthur joked around while drinking the beers he had brought along. He spoke about Monaco, about racing and about his family, and you thought to yourself you could listen to him speak for hours if he’d let you. There is nothing quite like seeing someone's eyes light up when they talk about things they are passionate about. On a few occasions, he made you laugh so hard tears pooled at the corners of your eyes. You couldn’t remember the last time somebody had made you feel this way, like life suddenly wasn’t as scary and serious as it seemed sometimes. It felt like you’d known him for years.

You thought to yourself how Oscar hadn’t really left the same impression on you tonight, but he was clearly tired and not expecting his roommate to show up, so he deserved a second chance at least.

Before you knew it, you arrived in front of your building and turned to face Arthur. His eyes were boring into you again, always making eye contact but not in a creepy way, more like an…intense way. It was kind of nice, knowing he was intrigued by you and not just walking you back because he felt like he had no other choice. You found yourself not wanting to say goodbye to the blonde boy in front of you, but you couldn’t really go there, right? How would you explain that to Oscar?

Thanks for cooking for me, but your roommate is hot and funny and you fell asleep so can you blame me?

Not exactly the best impression to leave after a first date. You wondered if it had been Arthur that had been your Tinder match, how different the night would have been. As you were contemplating this, you were still facing each other in silence.

“I really want to kiss you right now”

Arthur’s words felt like a cold bucket of water had been dumped over you, and you thought for a few seconds you had just imagined him saying it, but as he stood there before you, those beautiful eyes still firmly fixed on yours and full of anticipation, your body made the decision for you as you nodded your head.

You caught a glimpse of his serious expression breaking into a smile once again as he leaned in, lips just barely grazing your own before he really kissed you. Your lips moved together as one of his hands found the back of your neck. You were so wrapped up in him it felt like you were the only two people on the planet. The kiss turned more heated as Arthur slipped his tongue into your mouth, working expertly against your own as his free hand drew you in closer by your waist.

God, you had never been kissed like this before.

The sound of a phone ringing brought you back to reality as Arthur broke the kiss and quickly reached in his pockets for his phone, face falling slightly as he looked at the screen.

“Um, I think Oscar woke up, I should, uhm…probably head back” he said hesitantly.

The reality of the situation had well and truly set in now and you suddenly felt guilty, even though Oscar was far from your boyfriend, it still felt like you’d done something wrong.

“Ofcourse, yeah, you should go…thanks for walking me home”

Shit, it was awkward now. You shouldn’t have fucking kissed him. What else were you supposed to say? Say hi to Oscar for me? Not exactly the best thing to say given the predicament you were in.

“I will see you around, Y/N” Arthur spoke with a smirk as he walked backwards, keeping his gaze on you for a while before turning around and breaking into a small jog back around the corner.

As you dropped down on your bed, your brain was working overtime trying to process the night you’d had. It had taken you exactly one tinder date to make a mess out of everything, fantastic.

Just as you hoped you would fall asleep, the sound of your phone pining made you pirk up again, and curiosity got the better of you as you took it from the nightstand to see 3 notifications.

2 New messages from Oscar

Sorry for falling asleep on you, remind me to never first date so close to finals week ever again

I had a great time, hope you’re up for a second date soon?

But it was the third notification that really made your heart nearly beat out of your chest.

Arthur_Leclerc requested to follow you on Instagram

You sighed as you threw the phone haphazardly on your bed, suddenly wide awake again.

Shit.

Two days.

It had been two days since the tinder date fiasco, and Oscar’s message remained unanswered in your inbox. You didn’t have a clue what to say to him, and lying seemed just as bad as telling him the truth, so you took the easy way out and said nothing.

You’d accepted Arthur’s follow request and followed him back the morning after, but hadn’t had the guts to send him anything either. Guess you were back to square one then. Alone.

The heavy doors of the library creacked in protest as you pushed through them, and immediately you took in the comfortable silence of the big study hall, only interrupted here and there by squeaking shoes or a student coughing. In between all of this, you had almost forgotten that you desperately needed to study for finals, so you decided to head to the library and hopefully focus on school instead.

It seemed to work, but just as you were about to start the conclusion to the essay that had been giving you a headache for weeks now, a hand on your shoulder made you jump. The sound of surprise that you let out made a few students glance up from their books to see what the commotion was about, but you had no time to apologize because Arthur was standing there, so close to you that you had just about forgotten how to function properly. He took a seat next to you as you quickly removed your headphones.

“Hi” he smiled, leaning one arm over the back of his chair as he gave you that signature look again.

Hi? This boy had been the reason for your lack of sleep for two days straight and all he says is…hi?

“How is the studying going?” he asks casually. Okay, had he just forgotten what went down the other day?

“Arthur, we should, uhm…talk. About the other night you know” you whispered as you took a quick look around, afraid somebody would overhear you.

“Okay, talk about what exactly?” he challenged you, smirking.

“You kissed me”

“and you wanted me to, no?” he replied quickly. He was playing games and you knew it, so you decided to play along.

“Okay, so maybe I did. You’re talking big game for somebody who was too scared to message me afterwards”

You were bluffing, obviously, pretending like you’d been waiting for him to make the next move when you were just as scared as he was.

“Okay…what would you have wanted me to write?” he retorts, still seeming as confident as ever, carrying a more serious tone this time.

“Would you want me to write to you how…how I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night?”

Okay, so maybe he was better at playing games than you, and you were sure the look on your face was proof of your defeat. His normal joking tone had completely gone now, and his french accent seemed even stronger than it had when you had last seen him. You slumped back in your seat and unconsciously pressed your thighs together. Arthur noticed though, his eyes immediately following the movement.

“Have you been thinking of me too?” he continued, his leg closing the space between you underneath the desk until his knee met yours. You silently cursed yourself for wearing a dress today of all days.

“Yes”

Your mouth had decided to act before your brain did, and you were telling him the truth. When you had failed to fall asleep that night, you had touched yourself thinking about him, thinking about that kiss. Even just remembering it now, it made a blush creep onto your cheeks as you felt your heartbeat quicken.

His fingers brushed the hem of your dress underneath the table, and the tension building between the two of you was getting unbearable.

“We can't,” you said, and Arthur's face fell slightly as he began removing his hand from your skin.

“We can’t do this here” you continued as you closed your laptop and put it in your bag.

You stood up, and leaned down to whisper in Arthur’s ear,

“Meet me at the coffee shop downstairs in 5”

Smirking to yourself as you confidently strutted out of the library.

The shop had been closed for hours, but your boss had given you a set of keys for when you had the opening shift. You tiptoed your way to the break room in the back of the coffee shop, a small room with a two-person sofa and a vending machine, but it would make do. Once you saw Arthur appear outside the coffee shop, you went to unlock the door, quickly locking it again after he’d made his way in. You took his hand in yours and pulled him toward the room.

You hadn’t even made it fully inside when he pushed you against the back of the door, shutting it in the proces. Once his lips were on yours again, you forgot about all the doubts and worries you’d had before. In this moment, you were exactly where you needed to be. He kissed you like he did that night, tongue exploring your mouth as your hands grabbed onto the hair at the back of his neck. Arthur removed his lips from your mouth, only to focus his attention to your jawline and eventually move further down your neck. You didn’t even try to suppress the moans he was coaxing out of you.

“Fuck, you have no idea how difficult it was to act normal when I came back home that night…I couldn’t sleep thinking about you”

If his mouth hadn’t already done the trick, his words sure were enough to make your legs tremble. You wanted him so badly.

Arthur let his hands travel down, playing with the hem of your dress again, before looking back up at you.

“Are you sure? I will not do this unless you want it”

The statement seemed almost ridiculous at this point, because you had never been so sure about anything in your life.

“Yes, Arthur, I want it, please” you were almost begging for him. If he’d asked you, you would have gotten on your knees and really begged, but he had beat you to it as he sunk down onto his knees, still staring up at you.

“vous êtes si belle…Y/N” he muttered as he slowly pulled down your underwear, leaning forward to kiss your thigh in the process. You let your head drop backwards into the door, the sight of him on his knees in front of you almost too much to bear.

Arthur bent one of your legs at the knee and hooked it over his shoulder before he got to work.

He ran a finger through your folds once, looking up at you, not wanting to miss the way your eyes screwed shut as he let his fingers linger on your clit.

“Tu es tellement mouillée pour moi,”

You had a faint idea of what he was saying, but you were pretty sure he was talking to himself more than he was to you, so caught up in the moment he probably wasn’t aware he was speaking french. It sounded so good that you felt yourself get even wetter. Once he started eating you out, you were done for. You completely tuned out your surroundings, only focussing on how good he was making you feel. One of your hands grabbed hold of his hair, using it to steady yourself to the best of your abilities.

Soon after, he slipped a finger inside of you, his thumb simultaneously drawing slow circles on your clit as he sat back, resting in the heels of his feet as he stared up at you in awe, his face flushed from his previous actions. You could see your wetness glistening around his mouth. He looked amazing.

“God, I love the way you look at me” you said honestly, and he flashed you a signature smile in response.

“I love looking at you,” he answered. He added a second finger, and when he did the leg that was supporting you trembled, threatening to give out.

“I can’t..please, I want you inside of me” you whined. In this moment, you felt as desperate as you sounded.

Arthur nodded as he put your other leg back down and took your hand to lead you to the small sofa. He let you catch your breath as he quickly tore off his shirt, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans for his wallet. You realized why as he pulled out a condom from it.

You pushed his shoulders, prompting him to sit down on the sofa, making quick work of unbuckling his belt and dragging his pants and underwear down halfway down his thighs. Even though you hadn’t touched him yet, he was so hard, a clear sign that he had enjoyed eating you out just as much as you had. He helped you put the condom on, eyes screwing shut as you

You straddled him, knees either side of his thighs, and sunk down on him in one smooth motion. His eyes screwed shut as a plethora of french curse words and whines left his mouth. It felt so good you could feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, and a few drops of sweat rolling over your temples.

Arthur let his hands wander under your dress, grabbing a firm hold on your hips as he helped you build a delicious rhythm. You were so close, his teasing from earlier already having brought you on the brink of an orgasm. You were panting as you lent forward slightly so your forehead touched his.

“You are going to cum?” he asked, and all you could do was nod.

“Jouis pour moi, ma belle”

That was all it took for you to let go, your orgasm washing over you as soon as the words left his mouth. Your toes curled and nails dug into the skin of his back as Arthur held you tightly, guiding you through it. The feeling of you clenching around him combined with your moans was enough to drive him over the edge. You were still feeling the remnants of your orgasm running through you as he spilled inside of you, burying his head into your neck in the proces.

You held each other like that for a while as you both came down from your highs, heavy breathing filling the room. Eventually, you pulled off of him, sitting next to him on the sofa and letting your head lean on Arthur’s shoulder as he removed the condom and pulled his pants back up.

“That was…” he spoke, unable to find the words, but you knew what he meant.

“Yeah, I know,” you replied.

“Y/N?” Arthur turned to face you.

“Hmm?”

“Would you like to go on a date with me?”

And with those eyes staring into yours,

how could you ever say no?

#arthur leclerc #arthur leclerc smut #F1 #f1 smut #charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #f1 rpf #f1 fanfiction #masterlist #x reader #smut #arthur leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine

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wallf1ower · 1 year

Text

Y’all ever just

I swear, at this point my default IDE is the Notes app!

I love coding but I am so so lazy and held back by executive dysfunction; often, I want to work on a problem that’s rattling around in my head, but getting off the couch to get my laptop and start feels simply impossible.

So, I bust out my smartphone and jot down my ideas or write a few (untested) functions.

Not only does it allow me to just get started, rather than fighting myself for the willpower to “officially” get up, go to my desk, get focused and start working, (which often feels like a dreaded chore even though I always enjoy my time spent programming) it also takes a lot of the pressure off. Since it’s the Notes app rather than a real coding environment, I don’t worry about formatting or syntax mistakes or any mistakes, really, since there won’t be any error messages popping up until I can test the code later.

For me, I find this a really effective way both to get started without the dread and pressure, and to give myself the time and space I need to think through my own solution; predict what errors will come up from this code, and see if I can’t figure out how to solve it (or at least jot down some things to google later).

I find that programming is so creative, and like all creative endeavours, I am at my best doing it in a stress-free, nonchalant environment. It is easiest for me to brainstorm creative solutions, or even just think clearly, when I don’t feel intimidated. For me, this often results in me doing my best work in places where I don’t have access to a computer, or sometimes even internet: at the dog park, in the bath/shower, or lying on the couch high as a kite while I watch TV. (Yes, I sometimes use my phone in the shower. I am hopeless Gen-Z trash. I know.)

Thank you, iPhone. I hate you and I hate your company and everything it stands for. But, I get a lot of my best work done because of you :]

I wish I had a better solution than this, because like I just said, I hate the iPhone and I want to get rid of it, but I’m still too dependent on it right now. The smart phone just feels like a direct portal to my brain, that nothing else I’ve tried has been able to replicate.

Anyone else here struggle with executive dysfunction? How do you cope with it? If anyone does have any advice, tips, tricks, or ideas for me, I’d really appreciate it :]

#codeblr #programming #programmer #coding #cs studyblr #programmer things #progblr #executive dysfunction #study tips

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koushisbabie · 1 month

Note

UWU I HONESTLY YOUR WORK SO MUCH this is my first time on this app so I don’t really know much about it ! Thank you for putting so much effort in every post ,can I request sugawara x reader (how he would react when you keep biting your lip out of anxiety until it bleed ,cause lately I have been doing it a lot

Sorry because my English is not very good anyway HAVE A GREAT DAY ❤️❤️

Oh my gosh I am so sorry I completely forgot I got this request. Thank you for requesting a fic, and thank you for the compliment, you are so sweet T_T Comments like this give me the motivation to write more and get more creative with my ideas. In saying that, I hope your anxiety and your lip biting has gotten better <3 I don't know if you're still active on here, but I've written a small drabble (it ended up long haha) here for you! I hope you like it <3

‘Yo, Suga!’

Suga’s head appears from behind the precariously stacked wall of books on the library table. ‘Yes?’

‘Geez, isn’t that overdoing it?’ Asahi chuckles, gesturing to the books.

‘Well, I guess so,’ Suga replies, ‘but exams are only a week away.’ He shuffles aside some of the haphazardly strewn books and papers and pens, giving Asahi and Daichi space to sit down.

‘Where’s Yn?’ Daichi asks, peering around.

‘She’s around,’ Suga replies, ‘I think she went to the bathroom…’

‘I’m right here!’ Yn pops their head around the shelves. ‘I’ve been looking for this damn book for twenty minutes now.’

‘Oh yeah, looks like a long read.’

‘Can’t be helped,’ Yn says, sitting down next to Suga. ‘Tuesday’s exam is going to kick my ass if I don’t absorb this entire book.’

‘Take it easy, Yn,’ Daichi says. ‘You look a little tired, have you been sleeping alright?’

Suga glances at Daichi, then at Yn.

‘Well, yeah, kind of,’ Yn replies, nudging Suga’s arm affectionately. ‘Usually after we call.’

‘Which reminds me, I need to send you the link to this video that explains chapter eight in a bit more detail,’ Suga says absentmindedly. ‘It’s forty five minutes long but there’s some good illustrations in it that highlight how complex–’

‘You guys seem busy,’ Asahi interjects politely. ‘We should be heading off, we’ll tell the others that you’re studying this afternoon.’

‘Oh no, it’s okay,’ Yn says, glancing at their phone. ‘I actually forgot I promised I’d be home to receive a package later.’

‘You’re leaving already?’

‘Sorry,’ Yn says, ‘I’ll call you tonight, though? We can go through the last of these notes together!’

‘Yeah, sure,’ Suga replies, squeezing Yn’s hand before turning back to his notes.

Yn hesitates, before gathering their things and disappearing between the aisles of books.

An awkward silence falls between the friends, before Daichi pipes up.

‘Hey, Suga, did you see how red Yn’s lips were?’

Suga looks up from his notes, his pen paused above the paper. ‘You noticed it, too?’

‘It wasn’t subtle…’ Asahi says, quietly. ‘To be honest, I think they had been bleeding.’

‘Bleeding?’ Suga’s face fills with shock. ‘I didn’t realise it was that bad. I thought it was just sunburn.’

Daichi and Asahi share a look.

‘Okay,’ Daichi says sternly. ‘I see what’s going on. You’re too focused on your studying, you’ve neglected Yn. Maybe you should put the books away and spend some quality time with them.’

‘What do you mean?’ Suga asks, a little hurt.

‘Daichi’s right… I think Yn is really stressed. A lot of lip biting is caused by anxiety… I haven’t seen it that bad before, and I’ve known them for years.’

Suga pauses thoughtfully. ‘You’re right. The books could wait.’

‘We just mean–’

‘I have an idea,’ Suga says, grinning. ‘Thank you for slapping some sense into me.’

Yn arrives home sweating and tired, the heavy books in their bag weighing painfully on their back. They abandon the bag in the hallway and head to the bathroom, the light soft against their skin. They peer at their lips, swollen like a blossoming red rose. The urge to bite is strong, the pain satisfying momentarily distracts them from the bubbling anxiety in their belly.

Exams were only a week away but with the high percentage of worth the marks carry, anxiety had been slithering throughout the schools hallways like a giant snake stalking its prey, following students home so they could not find respite, even in their beds.

A knock at the door sounds loud and urgent.

As Yn pulls the door open, Suga almost drops the stack of books in his arms and the bags at his elbows.

‘Oh, Yn!’ Suga grins. ‘Mind if I come in?’

‘Of course,’ Yn says, bewildered. ‘Let me help you.’

In the living room, Yn places the stack of books on the coffee table, wondering how Suga could manage getting through them all with practice almost every afternoon. Despite being as passionate about volleyball as the others, he could somehow find the time to study when he really wants to.

‘So,’ Yn says, falling into the crease of the soft couch, ‘what brought you here?’

Suga glances at them, his mouth in a small frown, the creases between his brows knitted. ‘Look,’ he begins, ‘I have noticed that you’ve been a little… out of sorts, lately.’

Yn frowns, fidgeting in their lap with their fingers.

‘I don’t want you to ever feel like you’re less than beautiful, by the way!’ Suga says quickly, placing his hands on either side of Yn’s face.

Yn’s cheeks begin to flush. ‘What do you mean?’ They squeak.

Suga hesitates. ‘You’re doing it right now –’ Suga pauses, pointing at Yn’s lips, ‘you’re biting your lip too much!’

Yn swallows hard. ‘Oh. I hoped you wouldn’t notice.’

Suga smiles softly. ‘It took me a few moments to really see it.’ He hesitates. ‘I was too focused on studying, when I should have been looking out for you. I’m sorry.’

‘No, it’s okay!’ Yn blushes. ‘You’re here now! And it’s just anxiety, I mean, it’s always there, what can you do?’

‘Well…’ Suga says, turning to the coffee table. ‘I’m not sure if any of this will help, but I wanted to make up for not being one hundred percent there for you when you’re anxious.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘These are just some small gifts,’ Suga says. He opens the thick paper bags, revealing a fluffy blanket, a few lip balms, a small box of tea, a journal, and all of Yn’s favourite snacks. ‘I know it’s not much, and it can’t fix your anxieties completely, BUT I do think that tea will help, and maybe you can journal some of your worries and one of these lip balms is good for deterring lip biting, I think,’ Suga says quickly. ‘And of course, the blanket is for when it gets cooler and we can play games or something, together.’

A comfortable silence fills the room. Yn processes the gesture slowly, their eyes welling, their chest swelling with butterflies.

‘Oh no,’ Suga says, pulling Yn into a hug, pressing them to his chest. ‘I’m sorry, was it too much?’

Yn breathes in his scent, the clean soapy smell mixed with the day’s activities. Familiarity and safety is how Yn would describe Suga and his hugs, the gesture alone could deter them from the worries that plagued their mind.

‘This is too nice,’ Yn murmurs. ‘It’s just a bitten lip, why are you doing so much over that?’

‘Well, I don’t know what’s going on in the background – I’d like to,’ he says quietly. ‘I’d like to sit here and listen to you talk about what’s worrying you, if you’d let me. You never have to, if you aren't comfortable, but I’m always here.’

‘I get it now,’ Yn says, sniffling. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t want to bother you because I know you’ve been busy too. Exam season gets us all, doesn’t it?’

Suga laughs. ‘It does, but it’s my job to also look after you.’

‘Does it bother you?’ Yn asks quietly. ‘My lips…’

‘Well, it looks a little painful,’ Suga replies. ‘I’d hate for you to endure the pain or get an infection. That’s why I picked up the lip balm specifically for healing lips,’ he says, reading the back of the lip balm.

Yn curls into the crook of Suga’s arm, peering at the lip balm. Suga takes Yn’s chin, and tilts their head upward, gently applying the lip balm to their lips. The cooling sensation spreads over their lips like a lovely cool breeze. ‘It feels pretty good so far, thank you. Thank you for this. I never expect you to do anything for me, but this has made me feel a lot better – just knowing you care. That you’re here for me. Thank you.’

Suga smiles warmly, squeezing Yn against his chest. ‘If none of this helps you feel less anxious, I’ll just have to squish the anxieties out of you!’

‘Well,’ Yn squeaks, ‘I wouldn’t mind the cuddles!’

#haikyuu x reader #sugawara koushi #sugawara #sugawara x reader #sugawara x yn #sugawara fluff #sugawara koushi fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #sugawara koushi x reader #sugawara koushi imagine #sawamura daichi #azumane asahi #haikyuu sugawara

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stardustluvs · 7 months

Note

I would love to see a Karl x Foolish fanfic where Karl is riding Foolish’s thigh while he plays video games. Maybe Karl was in the mood in the middle of Foolish playing some games, so they compromise!

Almost Caught - Karl X Foolish

MDNI

Word Count: 1,045

Pairing: Karl Jacobs x Foolish (established)

Summary: Karl gets himself worked up over fanart, it’s too bad his boyfriend is busy playing games with his friends…or…is it?

Warnings: NSFW, Thigh riding, Almost getting caught, Foolish referred to as Noah, Punz is also mentioned/referred to as Luke

Author’s Note: I adore this request and had SO much fun writing it!

Requests are open! || masterlist

Karl groaned as he scrolled on his phone in bed. He’d been mindlessly liking fanart on twitter for like half an hour now. A lot of him and his friends, and a lot of him and his boyfriend.

His fans were creative, to say the least. They were so very talented. He hadn’t realized how long he must’ve been scrolling because he started to find fanart from accounts that he otherwise probably wouldn’t have paid close attention to.

NSFW fanart accounts.

These accounts had taken time and effort into making absolute masterpieces of him and his friends. He couldn’t help but cringe a little at some of the “ships” that people had come up with, drawing him in sexual relationships with people he’d never even pictured in that sort of light before.

Then, there was the art that featured him and Noah.

Even some complete accounts dedicated to NSFW art of the two of them.

Karl knew it wasn’t necessarily weird for him to look through it, for fucks sake they’re dating, but it gave him such a feeling of excitement.

His mind created little stories to go with each piece of lewd fanart that he scrolled past. He hadn’t even realized how much this affected him until he was subconsciously grinding against a pillow he had been mindlessly cuddling.

“Fuck..” He cursed under his breath, the pillow not providing nearly enough to what he so desperately needed.

He looked at his phone again, switching apps to text Noah.

“Are you busy?”

He stared at the phone screen for what felt like at eternity.

“Playing val with Luke, why?”

Karl rolled his eyes, unsatisfied with this answer.

“Need you.”

Waiting…

“Come here then.”

That provided a rush that was sent through his body quickly, excitement filled his head as he stood up to go to the other room, where he would be able to hopefully find relief.

Upon entering the room, he could see his boyfriend sitting at his computer. He wasn’t streaming, thank God.

But, he was on a discord call. He muted himself and turned to Karl, beckoning him over. Karl obeyed and walked over to Noah who pulled him down onto his lap.

“You can use my leg to get off, but you have to be quiet,” Noah said softly, even though he was muted on his call anyway.

Karl let out a shaky breath at the realization that Noah wasn’t going to get off of his call. He would continue playing with his friends, with their friends, who would have no idea of what was happening on this end of the call.

It gave Karl an even bigger feeling of excitement. He nodded as he adjusted himself against his boyfriend’s thigh.

Noah waited a moment for Karl to get comfortable before unmuting on his call.

“Sorry, I’m back,” He said, resuming his gameplay as though nothing had happened.

Karl started to grind down against his boyfriend's thigh. He set a steady pace for himself, trying his best to keep quiet.

How on earth Noah was able to continue playing like nothing was going on was beyond Karl.

Karl sped up a little bit, his hands moved up to rest behind the other’s neck, playing with his hair softly.

In his head he had silently been begging for Noah to just fuck him, whether he muted his call or not, he just wanted him, so fucking bad.

He’d listen as he would bicker with Punz over something that had happened in their game, not that Karl was paying attention to that or anything, too focused on trying to get off to care what anybody was saying.

Noah pushed his leg up ever so slightly into Karl, helping him gain just the slightest bit of more friction.

Karl couldn’t help the whine that left his mouth. One of Noah’s hands moved from his keyboard to grab one side of Karl’s waist, holding him in place slightly, also as a warning that he needed to be quiet.

“What the fuck was that?” Karl could hear the question through Noah’s headphones.

It should’ve been terrifying, but God, it made him wanna be louder.

“What was what?” Noah asked, giving Karl a bit of a look before putting his hand back to his keyboard to resume playing.

Karl could hear the confusion in Luke’s voice though muffled and quiet.

Thankfully, the conversation passed and it had been forgotten…until Karl made another noise.

This time might’ve been just a tad more on purpose than the first time. Noah was starting to get worried at how suspicious Luke had to have gotten, trying his best to play everything off as best he could.

That’s when Karl had a bit of a fun idea, he grabbed a little at Noah’s hair and pulled.

“Shit-” Noah groaned, accidentally.

“Bro what the fuck are you doing?” Luke laughed.

Karl couldn’t help but giggle softly to himself. He knew he was being a bit of a problem, that was the fun part. He started to grind down harder into his thigh, his breath catching as he got closer to his release.

The way Noah was unable to give an adequate answer to Luke had to have been madly suspicious, and Karl, knowing he was the reason, was absolutely obsessed.

"I'm not doing anything," He lied through shaky breaths, his hands leaving his keyboard once more to grab Karl's waist.

He helped Karl grind against his thigh, having to bite down on his lip to keep from making any noises. There was just something about seeing Karl in this sort of light…

“I’ve gotta go, talk later,” He said quickly before hurriedly leaving the discord call and pushing his focus completely onto Karl.

“Mm..fu-uck,” Karl whined now that the coast was clear.

His noises became more frequent and high pitched right before he came, riding out his high.

When he calmed down, he leaned against Noah, catching his breath.

“You’re gonna get me in so much trouble one day,” He mumbled, thanking god that he was able to leave the discord call when he did.

“Mm… ‘s okay, I can help you now though…” Karl grinned, getting up off Noah’s lap and on his knees.

Thank god he left that discord call.

#dsmp #mcyt #dsmp ship #karl jacobs #foolish gamers #karl jacobs x foolish #koolish #ship fic #smut #smut fic #karl jacobs smut #foolish gamers smut #dsmp smut #mcyt smut #koolish smut #kit’s requests

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frannyzooey · 2 years

Text

In The Dark: 5

Ezra x f!reader

Rating: Explicit, age gap

A/N: Thank you for being patient for this one - I couldn’t have done it without the reassurance of @krissology and @charnelhouse who assured me this chapter hit just the way I wanted it to. Apologies for any typos - this lady has COVID brain, but I wanted to get this out. Enjoy!

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Ezra: Can I come over tomorrow?

You kept looking at the text all night long. Checking it was still there after you dried off from your shower, peeking at it every so often as you finished some homework, opening it after you crawled into bed. The simple words etched themselves onto your brain before you closed it, tapping your Books app to read.

You had thought you had sated the ache you had for him in the shower earlier, but it did almost nothing against the bundle of nerves warming in your core right now at the thought of that text. It was as if the words acted as a match, igniting the kindling inside you the second he sent them.

He could have waited until tomorrow morning to call you and ask, but after spending all day with him in close proximity of his casual touches and his lingering looks, you knew now that he liked to see how far he could push you.

He had a playfulness in him, one that you had observed while being around him so much, and though you always saw it come out in teasing words and winks, you wondered if you were about to be shown a different side of it - a darker, more seductive one.

You switched your phone for a real book and a light, hoping that the lack of screen would make it easier to fall asleep. It had been a long day after all, and it did the trick, because not even ten pages in, you nodded off.

–

It’s early when you wake; you’ve come to like that.

When you were a teen, days off meant sleeping in until noon and then rolling out of bed just in time to get ready to hang out with your friends. Once you started college, those early hours were brutal, especially after so many late nights either partying, staying up to gossip with your roommates or studying. You made the mistake of signing up for one 8am class your freshman year only once, and you never did it again.

It wasn’t until later that you discovered, by chance, how peaceful the solitude of the early morning could be. Needing to deliver a midterm paper that was technically due the night before, you had set your alarm for 6am to make the walk across campus. Stepping outside, you were surprised at how quiet it was, how bright and crisp and refreshing, and after dropping your paper off, you had taken a longer route back to your dorm to soak it in. After that, you decided that while late nights were fun with other people, early mornings were better by yourself.

You usually spent them reading: your couch positioned right next to the window for a premium spot, the ledge of that open window the perfect place for your cup of coffee. Your limbs are too restless this morning for that though, so you take the time to clean instead; weeks’ worth of neglect cluttering the surfaces around your apartment.

Books are everywhere: weathered copies from the campus library, even worse ones from the second hand store. New, glossy covers of those you couldn’t resist mixed with the hardbound textbooks you owned, slim notebooks tucked haphazardly between volumes, the pages sometimes riddled with study notes, sometimes with writing ideas. There wasn’t a lot of space in your small apartment, which helped you keep it tidy, but books – you always had room for those.

You sort them, putting them in their rightful places, the task a calming one. After that, the papers in your bag, then a wipe down of your kitchen and bathroom, then one of yourself - a long shower, to rinse the grime of chores off your skin. You take your time shaving, making sure you get every single spot and when you get out of the shower, you see a text from him, sent 10 minutes prior.

Ezra: On my way, that okay?

You smile, quickly texting him yes before rushing into your bedroom to get dressed and you busy yourself by making your bed, lighting a candle in the living room, fussing with the throw pillows on the couch.

Then, you wait.

You’ve spent so long in his environment, in his house, it’s hard to picture him in yours. What will he think of it? It isn’t really about what he thinks of the apartment - those are all the same, in their own basic way - but so far, you’ve only known him as Ezra around Cee. Who is he as Ezra, the man? Is he the same? Different? Who is he around the women he goes home with?

You try to picture him in a vague, bland apartment, sitting with the woman at the movie theater, maybe a glass of wine in his hand. Them, flirting. Him, kissing her. Him, laying her backwards onto the cushions of her couch, guiding her body with his and suddenly the image of her transforms into you and your living room, your clothes on the floor and his mouth –

When your phone rings, it startles you from your train of thought. Ezra’s name pops up on the screen and you swipe your thumb to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Birdie,” he greets you smoothly and you can hear the smile on his face through the line. It gives you a thrill to hear his voice through the phone, even more so knowing he’s calling just for you. “How is your morning so far?”

“Good. Catching up on chores. Are you outside, or –?”

“I’ve had something come up. I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come run an errand with me?” You can hear the sound of city traffic on his end of the line; car horns, wind, the general movement of the vehicle itself and you picture him sitting in the driver’s seat, the competent way he drives.

“Uh, sure,” you answer, wondering what he means by errands. “I can grab my stuff and meet you outside - don’t park. Are you close?”

“I am indeed. See you in a minute.”

When he pulls up, you’re waiting for him out front just like you said you would and he reaches over, opening the car door from the inside. The smile he gives you in greeting is genuine and disarmingly handsome but brief, the dimples in his cheeks showing only for a moment. He leans back into his seat as you climb in, checking his rearview mirror while you buckle and knowing he can’t be double parked for more than a second or two, he slides back into traffic with a smooth single handed steer.

“Hello,” he says after a moment, reaching over to grab your knee with a squeeze. You chose a dress to wear today, not sure of where you were going, but sure you’ll look good doing it and you can tell he agrees with the way his eyes keep sweeping over you. They drift up to yours and hold there for a beat, warm and affectionate, before looking back at the road and when he pulls his hand away, you can still feel the weight of it on your skin.

“Sorry I didn’t just come up, like I wanted. This isn’t how I imagined spending some time alone with you, but I got this call I’ve been waiting for and I didn’t want to reschedule.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you reassure him, shifting slightly in your seat to face him. “I don’t mind. Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.” He says the words with a hushed weight, a wink over at you when you smile at his teasing tone. “How did you sleep last night?”

“Okay. How about you?” You bite your lip at the sight of his t-shirt moving in the wind across his broad chest, at his tanned throat just above the collar. He’s wearing a cardigan today again and the fabric looks so soft, you want to lean in and rest your cheek against it.

“I was restless, Birdie. I’m not gonna lie.” He keeps his eyes on the road, deftly merging into another lane in order to make a turn and his open admission makes your heart pick up pace. You love the way he never says what you think he will say, though always honest and the casually blatant statement thrums through your already tense limbs.

“Oh yea? How come?” You know why, but you want to hear him say it.

“Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

You’re not paying attention to where you are going at all, instead watching his hand as it comes to settle on your thigh again and when you rest yours on top of it, he hums in approval, sliding it further up the inside of your leg.

“After yesterday, how could I sleep, hmm?” His pinkie strokes your petal soft skin, a slow back and forth that lights a path straight up between your legs and you are immediately flung right back into his kitchen at night, right back in the Farmer’s Market, right back in the bookstore.

Unconsciously, you gently scoot on the seat to move his hand further up, the sounds of traffic dimming into a white noise in the background as he peeks over at what you’re doing.

“Did you think about me last night, like I thought about you?” His question is asked quietly, but you hear every single word in that small space the two of you share. The pads of his fingers are calloused, his hand warm and dry and you want nothing more than to just drag it up to where you need it the most; even more so because you’re fairly sure he would love it.

“I did,” you reply instead, leaving his hand right where it is and the admission makes him smile, his hold tightening on your leg, tenderly digging his fingers into the meat of it. He caresses your skin, watching your eyes drop down to watch and he knows he should be focusing more on driving right now, but he can’t help but wonder what you’re wearing under your dress. If he just shifts his hand a bit higher, he could find out…

Fuck, maybe he should have canceled this appointment.

He looks regretful when he draws his hand back, breaking the moment and the action makes you take a deep breath, pulling you back to the present. He’s slowing down, searching for a spot to park and you look around, trying to figure out where you are.

Distinctly middle class, is your first impression. Different from some of the deepest parts of the city, definitely not the same as Chelsea, where you were yesterday, this neighborhood looks more….lived in. Residential. Brick red apartments line the block, one after the other, stoops out in front of each one.

Brightly colored storefronts line the next street down, Russian subtext under English bannered names and a couple of people stand in the doorway of one, chatting. A woman pushes a stroller laden with grocery bags down the opposite side, a small child trailing behind her and you wonder if he’s taking you for breakfast, maybe?

Finding a spot, he parks, and rounds the car before you can get out. He opens your door, a gesture you don’t think anyone has ever done for you before and when he holds his hand out, you take it. He tugs you up and into his arms, your hands finding their place in the thick fabric of his sweater and he stands there for a moment and lets you take him in, just like he’s doing with you.

You feel so good in his hold, the curves of your body felt clearly under the light dress you’re wearing and when he leans into you, you think he’s going to kiss you -- but he shuts the car door behind you instead.

He looks down, his lips pulling up at the obvious upturn of your face and even though he wants nothing more than to press his mouth to yours and kiss you until you’re breathless, he restrains himself. He felt what his barely there touches did to you yesterday, felt the heady pulse of electricity build between your bodies until you were squirming in your chair at the restaurant and that is what he wants.

When his lips brush your cheek in a slow inhale of a very innocently chaste kiss, he can feel your body trembling in his hold.

“Ready?” He asks, lacing your fingers with his and it takes all he has not to smirk at the hooded, dazed want in your eyes.

“Yes.”

It takes you a moment to answer, something he delights in.

–

The errand, as it turns out, is visiting an elderly woman’s apartment in Brighton Beach. She had called Ezra, saying she might have something of interest for him and when he introduced himself to her, you admired how well this job seemed to suit him. Not only the delicate task of extracting the treasure from the dirt, but the people skills it took to get there in the first place. He handled them just as carefully as their items.

He was immensely charming, talkative, his politeness disarming and she welcomed the two of you in. As she led you down the hallway of her cozy unit, you automatically grasped his arm in your hold when you saw the bedroom you walked you into.

“Oh……my God.”

Dolls, everywhere. Seated on every shelf, piled on the daybed, held standing on the dresser by display stands. Ceramic, cloth, wooden; dresses of all kinds: silk, cotton, lace. Their full cheeked, creepy faces seemed to all stare at you at once, tracking you around the room as you followed Ezra over to a cabinet in the corner and when the woman lifted a doll from the glass case, she did it with the same delicate movements you would handle a newborn with.

“This is the one,” she said, her voice high and wavery, and Ezra took it gently from her, his hands carefully handling it as he assessed the sewn seams, the hair, the clothes. His brow furrowed in discerning study, he knew exactly what he was looking for. Not finding it and he eventually handed it carefully back to the woman with a regretful look on his face. Seeing that it wasn’t quite the find the woman thought it was and sensing she was about to lose her audience, she invited the two of you to stay.

Ezra extracted you from the situation like a professional.

“We would love to stay, but we’ve got a couple other things to do this morning. Meetings just like this.” He grasped her elbow in sincere apology, a touch that made her pat his arm.

She nodded in understanding, looking over at you and taking your morbid curiosity of the dolls as in interest like hers, she smiled.

“Do you like any of them, my dear?” She came closer to you, resting her hand on the dresser top. While she looked at the dolls affectionately, you glanced over her shoulder at Ezra, who appeared to be stifling an urge to laugh. His face shifted into a silent scold for you to pay attention to her and you did, hiding a curl of your lips. “I would be glad to give you one.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t –” you started to refuse and Ezra stepped in, circling to stand behind you. His hand came to rest on your lower back, curling around your hip.

“Oh, you should, Birdie –”

“Birdie? How sweet,” she said pleasantly. “Is that your name?”

Sandwiched between the two of them and flustered by her insistence on a doll and his presence, you stepped back and he was right there, warm and solid against you. His hand slid down further, his fingers splaying to cup the curve of your bottom and you couldn’t believe he was doing this with this woman right in front of you.

Polite and charming, indeed.

You wanted to turn around and look at him, your feet shifting on the floor as he traced the line of your panties through your dress and taking a deep breath, you tried to steady yourself. The woman started to show you her favorite ones, his hand then drifting excruciatingly slowly towards the juncture of your thighs and when they pressed inwards, you almost jolted. Bracing yourself on the dresser, the woman smiled encouragingly.

“This one?” she asked, selecting the one she had just pointed out, but you barely heard her. You’d only been with this man for less than an hour and your panties were a damp cling against your center, your emptiness felt even more with his hands on you.

“Um, yes,” you answered, the words catching slightly in your throat and she looked so pleased, you felt a bit guilty. The second the words left your mouth, Ezra took his hand back.

Taking the smallest, least scary looking one from her, it was ten more minutes of a conversation held during a slow moving walk towards her door before the two of you were finally freed.

“What do you think you were doing in there?” you ask, watching him get his keys out.

He feigns innocence, opening your car door. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You laugh, holding the doll out to him. “Why did you let her give this to me? Look at this thing. Take it.”

“Oh no, that’s all yours. I saw how you were looking at its glassy, creepy eyes. It’s Victorian clothes.” He slips his sunglasses back on, a teasing upturn of his lips and leans in closer. “I saw how much you wanted it.”

The double meaning of the words isn’t lost on you and when you climb into the car, you want to toss the doll into the backseat, but hesitate when you think about how much that woman cared for it. You place it down gently instead.

“Ready for another trip?” he asks, starting the car.

Still reeling from his touch upstairs and not at all ready for this day to end, you smile and say yes.

–

He’s got a few places to go, it turns out: an antiques shop in Tribeca to look at an old bed frame, Greenwich Village to pick up some brass hardware and original Victorian wall sconces, over to West Harlem to look at furniture from a recently liquidated Midtown office and while every one of these errands was necessary, his “casual” touches were not.

His hand remained on your thigh in the car, on your back when you walked along with him, a bracing wrap around the back of your knee when he knelt down to “inspect” the construction of an end table. On that one, he asked the shop owner to check something on the computer and when the man walked away, you almost yelped when you felt the quick press of his mouth on the outside of your leg.

You were back where he had left you yesterday, going out of your mind with arousal and you knew he could tell, which made you feel even more worked up. He was doing this on purpose, like an extended type of foreplay and you tried to think of a way to get him back.

You eventually succeeded, in that warehouse of furniture. Rows of old oak desks, clunky typewriters covered in yellowed plastic sheets, a pile of old rotary phones. It looked like the discarded set of Mad Men, and fishing out a pad of paper and pencil from one of the file boxes nearby, you rested the latter on your bottom lip with an exaggerated pout.

Channeling your inner Joan Harris, you sauntered over to him and asked him in a sultry voice if you could take notes for his “meeting”. When he tried to grab you, you slipped from his grasp, instead bending over a desk and pretending to reach for something. Letting the word “sir” slip from between your lips, you rendered the man speechless for the very first time since you’d met him.

–

“Did you like it today?” he asks, a one eyed squint over at you in the bright sunlight of the afternoon. Sitting on a bench in a park across from the office building, he takes a bite of his hot dog and you peel the paper back on yours, following suit. You always did love a street vendor.

“I did,” you answer thoughtfully. “I liked seeing you with those people more, I think. Doing your job. Watching you talk to them.”

He grins, shaking his head and you continue, nudging him with your elbow. “No, I mean it. I always think about like, who lives in all these buildings, you know? What are their lives like? What are their houses like, these little spaces for themselves in this big city.” You stop, a little self conscious when you see him just looking at you, but when you see soft endearment in his eyes, you keep going.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, taking another small bite. “I’m just happy you showed me. I liked it.”

He slowly balls his used paper in his hands, reaching for the can of Coke next to his thigh. “I’m glad you liked it.” He takes a swallow and you watch the movement of his throat above the collar of his shirt. “I’ll take you again sometime, if you want?”

You nod and he finishes the soda, standing to toss his garbage in a can nearby. When he comes back, he holds his hand out to you.

“Ready to go home?”

You aren’t - you want to stay with him, to let this day unfold in whatever plan the universe has, if only to discover more about him and his life when he’s not with you. He looks boyish and light right now when you look up at him, the sun a glowing halo behind his head, the dark strands of his unruly curls lit with it and the crinkles around his eyes deepen, the dimples in his whiskered cheeks deep when you slowly shake your head no.

“Not unless you come with me?”

You wait on baited breath for him to answer, hoping he doesn’t have anything else to do today but of course he doesn’t; he’s waited too long for this opportunity to present itself. He’s got the whole day, just for you.

“Of course.”

–

The steps up to your apartment are a silent, weighted thing, especially for all the talking you’ve done with him today. Your lighter footfalls against his heavier ones, you can feel his presence at your back and the pull you feel towards him grows more intense the higher you climb. At your door, you fumble with the trick lock before you get it to open.

“So I get to see my birdie’s nest, huh?” The question is said to himself more than anything, but you still feel a swoop light through your chest at the words “my birdie”. His.

He follows you in, taking in the heady, familiar scent of you in the bright, welcoming space. The tension in the room is instant, as if it was swept in with him once he crossed the threshold and when the door closes, it gets thicker.

Just to have something to do with yourself, you ask if he wants any coffee and he’s still looking around when he says yes.

When you wander into the kitchen to make it, tossing your keys and bag on the tiny table, he follows right behind.

He does want to see your place - wants to know who you are, look around the space you call home - but he’s been waiting all day to get you alone. Even longer than that, if you count all day yesterday and the weeks before when he ached for you and he can’t seem to find the interest in pursuing your bookshelves to see what you like to read at the moment or what kind of music you might listen to.

Not when you’re finally alone with him.

He comes to stand behind you, crowding you at your counter and when you try to place a scoop of grounds into the machine, he stills your hand with his. You freeze, feeling the warm skim of his breath on your neck and when you feel his mouth graze your skin, the tension you’ve been holding in your body all day crests until it melts, spreading throughout your limbs.

“Turn around, Birdie.” The words alone are enough to make you shiver, the husk in which his voice sounds low in your ear rolling through your body like an intimate wave of want and when you turn in his hold, he backs up barely enough to let you move. The position and its similarity to the one you found yourself in the other night isn’t lost on either of you.

You’ve each dreamt about this moment for weeks and now that it’s here, the immense want unfurls free between the two of your bodies, filling the space. It's like a drug; you couldn’t say no even if you tried.

His hands come up to cradle your face, your lips parting only just as if you want to breathe him in and his eyes warm at the instant softening of your youthful features. “Are you nervous?”

You nod slowly because you are, even though you wish he would slide his thumb only just towards your lips so you could kiss it.

He likes your nod, but he likes your mouth more and when he bends down to press his own against it, the action is chaste and gentle compared to the other ways he’s kissed you.

“Don’t be,” he whispers, his bottom lip collecting yours, his hold tightening subtly on your face to draw you in closer and he can almost feel the way you're practically vibrating for more than what he’s giving you - which is just how he wants it.

He kisses you again, his tongue sweeping slowly through your mouth to open you up for him and a soft sound catches in the back of your throat, your fingers splaying over his firm sides. He slants his head to deepen it, your lips molding against his and you’re not even sure how it’s possible you’re already this turned on from a kiss, but this is what he does to you. It’s what he has always done to you, and you feel the thin material of your panties dampen between your legs.

Another one, another one, his mouth demanding more from yours each time and he tastes so good and masculine, with a hint of sweetness from his soda earlier. He lets out a groan into your mouth and you slip your hands under his shirt to rest them on his warm skin. Sliding them over his sides and around to his strong back, you map the line of muscle that follows his spine and when you get to the waistband of his pants in the back, you slip the tip of your fingers underneath his briefs and pull him closer.

Devouring would be the best way to describe the way he’s kissing you, just like he did in his kitchen: like he can’t stop now that he’s had a taste, especially now that he doesn’t have to stop.

“You taste so good, Birdie,” he murmurs, breaking from the kiss only far enough that his lips brush against yours when he says it. The tip of his tongue flicks out to taste the middle of your lower lip. “Even better when I can really take my time.”

You smile into his next kiss, the curve of it melting almost instantly when he shifts his mouth to the corner of your jaw, pressing thick kisses there. Lower still, his mouth dragging warm and wet down the slope of your neck and when you loll your head to the side to give him space, you catch a glimpse of the two of you in a mirror you have hanging on the wall.

You hardly recognize yourself - kiss swollen lips, hooded eyes, a slack mouth opened in near panting - but it’s him you really focus on. The crown of his dark hair, the patch of gray threaded at the corner of his jaw, the solidness and height of his body next to yours, the strain of his shirt over his biceps as he continues to hold you close to him.

“Do you want more?” he asks, directing the lowly spoken words into the hollow of your throat and when you say yes, he pulls away, licking his lips with a swallow.

“Where is your bedroom?” The direct question shouldn’t be as arousing as it is, and yet –

You take his hand in yours, guiding him down the hallway towards it and when he gets there, he takes it in, just like he did your living room.

“I like your blanket.” He goes to your bed, sitting down on the edge of it. “And your pictures.” He isn’t looking at either of those things, instead tracking you with his eyes. “And your books.”

“What about me? Do you like me?” you tease, coming to stand between his legs and he hums in approval, his tanned throat bobbing with it.

“Oh, I like you very much.” The words are directed at your belly, his fingers slipping under the hem of your skirt to rest on the front of your thighs, His hands wrap around them, slowly sliding up until he gets to the band of your panties and you hold still, letting him do it. He looks up, his teeth resting for a moment on his lower lip and you reach down, lifting the material of your skirt to rest at your waist. His breath skims warm over the sensitive skin of your stomach when he cups your bottom in his hold, his hands giving it a slight squeeze.

“This,” he starts, leaning forward to place a kiss against your hip bone and you sigh, placing your hand on his shoulder when he squeezes the plump flesh harder, kneading it in his grasp. “This ass, Birdie - I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Resting his forehead against the gentle slope of your belly, it puts his face directly in front of your cunt. You want to squirm in his hold, the ache inside you only growing more and more overwhelming with every second that he stays there and his hands tightening, his chin nuzzling your mound.

“I –,” you’re about to plead for him to do anything, but you’re instantly cut off by the movement of his face.

His nose fits neatly along your seam, his hands splaying wide over your bottom to cup it and pull you closer and he lets out a soft groan into the apex of your thighs; your innocent, white panties undoing him.

The cotton is soft under his calloused hands, a dampness darkening the crotch of the fabric when you shift slightly in his hold and his eyes flit up to yours for a moment before he presses his tongue against it.

You inhale sharply, curling into the warmth of his mouth and you fist your dress, your hips wanting to rock forward. You can feel his hot breath through the thin fabric, can feel the humid, damp gust of it just over your cunt and you whimper at how turned on you are by him just breathing on it.

“Do you want me…..here?” he asks softly, the question a rasp from deep in his throat and you’re in a daze when you look down at his dark brown eyes, his face tipped up to yours as he strokes the slick spot with the pads of his fingers.

He doesn’t wait for your answer before he pushes his fingers further back to brush over your entrance and you are completely under his spell, your chest heaving and your body almost trembling with need.

It’s filthy, what he’s doing, somehow even filthier than it would be if you were naked and while you would normally be much more shy about anyone doing something like this to you, the combination of him building this need in you all day and the way he’s looking at you with a lustful reverence makes you bold; makes you feel beautiful and sensual and so very brave. He’s looking at you like you’re a feast, like everything he’s ever wanted. Like a hunger he needs to satisfy now.

He strokes his fingers against your seam, pressing the middle one firm against the dip of your entrance. When you let out a whimper, he grins — a slow spreading smug thing.

“I bet your pussy feels so good. Bet it tastes good too.” He holds your gaze. “Would you let me eat it?”

When you nod, the way he looks at you has you feeling like you just willingly walked right into his trap; his brown eyes shifting into something pitch black and you are already breathing hard when he gently tugs your panties down over your hips, thighs, calves. You step out of them, never leaving the spread of his legs and his eyes are hooded and hungry, directed right at the juncture of your thighs. He drags his tongue slowly across his plush bottom lip.

You let your eyes flutter shut when he presses his mouth warm and wet to the top of your thigh, his hum of approval felt along your skin when he gives it an open mouthed kiss and he’s so fucking close to where you need him, but he’s taking his sweet time getting there. He switches sides, the soft cotton of your skirt twisting in your grip and you let out a barely there whine when his teeth catch your skin, his tongue sliding between your inner thighs where he can already taste the salt of you.

That undoes him - his eyes intently fixed on your face for a split second before he lays back, sharply tugging you forward with him.

You think he means for you to straddle his lap, but when he shuffles up the bed and digs his fingers into the meat of your hips to guide you forward, you don’t even hesitate. Instead you follow him up, your knees sinking into your comforter around his torso and then his shoulders and ripping your dress over your head and tossing it onto the floor with your bra, the twin sounds of relief that you both let out when he pulls you down onto his open, waiting mouth are filthy and loud.

“Jesus,” you pant, bracing one hand on the mattress above his head and the other on the wall and he answers you with a groan, his tongue licking a wide, deep path inside of you. You chase the wet warmth of it, your hips starting an instant, unconscious rock against his face and he encourages it, guiding them with his hold. “Yes. Yes.”

How the fuck you got from the slow, methodical, stripping of your clothes to this, you don’t know, but you can’t seem to care. He’s fucking you with his tongue and you are blinded by how good it feels, his hands splaying wide to keep you tight against his mouth and rather than being self conscious about being fully nude and grinding on his face, you act purely based on need - which is exactly what he wants.

You arch your back and drag your hips forward; again, again, just like you would if you were riding his cock and he plants his feet on the bed for leverage, his arms taut with the strength it takes to keep you on his face. His hands slide up around your hips, following the lines of your smooth sides and when the weight of your breasts fills his palms, you cry out with how hard he squeezes them in his hold. The sound makes him groan again into you, the tip of his tongue now focusing directly on your clit before he gives it a suck and your hand flies from the bedding to his hair, threading your fingers into the dark locks with a tug.

“Ezra,” you warn in a pleading moan and you reach down to cup the crown of his head, his soft hair slipping in your hold. You cradle it between your thighs, dropping them open wider as he presses his face deeper and you roll your hips restlessly against his worshiping mouth.

Wanting nothing to distract him from the task at hand, he doesn’t answer you. Instead, he shifts on the bed to slide two thick fingers snug into your soaked cunt and quicker than you can vocalize how good they feel, he’s rubbing something deep inside you while he sucks. His cheeks hallowed with the rhythmic pulse over your clit, a hungry, satisfied groan into your cunt when he feels you bare down on his fingers with a broken cry and when you arch your back and let go, he can feel it before he can taste it.

“Please,” you beg, not even sure for what, chasing the maddening swirl of his tongue as the single point of contact is exactly the right pressure to keep your orgasm rolling. He feels just as good as he does in your dreams, his mouth practiced and competent, but what you didn’t imagine is that he would be so hungry for it, would do it with such a genuine need.

You are fixed frozen above him for a moment, your hips jolting with aftershocks as he continues to lick you down and when you ease off, he doesn’t even wait a beat before pushing himself off the bed to stand.

You lay there, catching your breath while you watch him pull his shirt over his head and swipe it over the lower half of his face before he lets it drop to the ground, his fingers immediately working the button of his jeans open. His movements are frantic and rushed, the thick, rigid bulge in his briefs outlined just for a moment before he tugs those off too and when you see his cock, heavy and stiff between his thighs, you immediately part your legs.

Fuck.

He kneels on the bed, bracing his hands around your waist to lean down and kiss the soft swell of your belly, the thin skin over your ribs, the bridge of his nose sliding along the sensitive underside of your breast before he pulls back, remembering something. The bed dips with his weight when he reaches over the side of it, and you admire the ripple of muscles along his bare side when he fishes something from his pants on the floor. A condom.

He places it on the bed beside you before fitting himself between your spread thighs and when he smiles down at you before giving you a kiss, you match it with one of your own, humming in contentment. The weight of his body is solid, the warm firmness of his skin fitting and molding with yours, flush against the length of you and his scent, the one pressed into the cushions of his couch and the interior of his car, the one you’ve been chasing for weeks now, fills your senses as he presses himself closer. The slip of his hair, the plush give of his lips, the bristle of his sparse beard. The lean strength of his arms surrounds you, the taut thickness of his thigh fits under the curve of your ass and the heft of his cock drags along the silky skin of your thigh.

He doesn’t stop - nothing about him does. His tongue, sliding against yours like it wants to memorize your taste, his hands mapping every inch of your bare skin, his legs restless and moving, knees pushing into the bed for leverage as he rocks his hips forward into yours and you meet every single one of his movements with your own. He rolls his hips forward again into yours, a deep groan into your mouth when you wind your legs around his waist and flex to meet his thrust and the two of you move like that together until it becomes frantic, his hands squeezing a little too hard, your moans turning more into whines.

He pulls himself away to kneel between your spread knees, the black wrapper of the condom crinkling between his fingers as he works it open and when you reach down to slip your fingers into the slick, aching warmth of your cunt, he keeps his eyes fixed there while you watch him.

What is so hot about the act of putting a condom on? Is it the deft handling of his own cock? The weight to it, the way it stiffly bobs in his firm grasp? Is it the intent to fuck, the explicit implication of what is about to happen? Is it the slight hurry to the movements, as if he can’t wait to be inside you? Is it imagining him doing this a hundred times before — is it the experienced motion?

Maybe, you think, swirling your slick fingers over your clit, it’s the way he looms above you: his broad shoulders accentuated by his slight hunch, the dark crown of his hair as he looks down for a moment, his taut stomach, the tapered dip of his hips, the collection of dark hair that leads to the base of his cock that calls out for your touch.

His throat bobs with a swallow when he finally gets it on, dropping down to brace himself over you and crawling up, he takes his rightful, needed place between the welcoming cradle of your thighs.

“You ready, Birdie?” he asks, his husky voice intimate in the golden lit, early afternoon glow of your room and you answer with a nod, your eyes dropping down to his mouth before lifting your head to kiss him.

A frown settles between his brows as he opens up to you, his hand cupping your jaw to keep you in place while he lines up to slide into you and the cry you let out into his mouth makes him harder than it should.

It’s a lot - Jesus, it’s a lot - but more than the delicious, filling stretch is how good it feels. It’s so good you want to cry, even more so when he pulls out to slide back in again and this time your moan is met with one of his own; the deep sound strained with heavy breathing. It’s not only what he’s doing and how he’s doing it, but the sheer relief after wanting it for so long that the two of you cling to and he picks up pace, not being able to control himself.

“You feel so fucking good,” his eyes are clenched shut above you, your hands pressed into the span of his lower back as he rocks forward again, again and you encourage it, digging your nails into the meat of his ass. “You’re so tight. You’re squeezing me so tight.”

A moan breaks in the back of your outstretched throat, your mouth dropping open in a pant and his tongue traces a line around the corner of your jaw before he mouths it, another kiss pressed to the side of your neck as he tastes the skin there. You thread your fingers through his close cropped dark hair, tipping your head to the side to give him room to explore and your thighs hitch higher on his lean torso. “Please, you feel so good. please don’t stop - I need it. I need you.”

He says nothing, his brow furrowed with concentration, his eyes black with lust as he plants his knees wider on the bed for purchase and he thrusts in deeper, harder. Again, again.

“Fuck - you feel so fucking good. You’re so wet. How long have you thought about this? Tell me.”

“All the time. Every night. Oh god — Ezra, I —“

He kisses you, a frantic thing and it’s all you can do to barely hang on as he fucks you deep into the mattress, his mouth taking, tasting, savoring with a groan.

It’s overwhelming for you, the full stretch and weight of him inside, but it’s just as much for him. The fruition of this want he’s felt for weeks, he’s never been harder in his life as he shoves himself into you seeking relief and flashes of everything he’s wanted to do to you slip through his mind.

You, riding him on his couch. You, bent over his work desk. You, pressed against the wall or kneeling between his thighs. Your vacation photo, the swell of your tits splashed and smeared with his cum. You, your mouth stretched around the base of him.

These are the things that have haunted him for weeks, but more heady than any of them is the real thing underneath him right now: the lush give of your body against his, the soft pliant mold of your lips, the welcoming cradle of your thighs, the tight fist of your slick soaked cunt.

Your mouth - the one he’s been obsessed with - he devours like it’s the source of life itself.

“Jesus Ch —“, and it’s almost pained the way he lets it pour out of his open, panting mouth. “You’re so fucking wet, I’m gonna come. You’re gonna make me come.”

You tense your jaw, forcing your hips against his in a rapid roll, meeting his every harsh thrust and the two of you lose yourselves in groans of long awaited satisfaction, in the rustle of your blanket under your writhing bodies, in the the bruising, needy grips you have on each other’s sweat damp skin.

More, more, you want more and as though your body is speaking directly to his, he gives it to you - his arm hooking under your knee to tug it higher, so he can slide deeper.

“Fuck,” you whine, the word coming out before you can stop it and the swell of your breasts bouncing underneath him as he fucks into you makes him thicken inside you, but the near pained look on your face does it even more. “Just like that. I want it – I want –”

You're babbling, so close to coming around him you can taste it with that deep spot he stroking inside and you can feel slick dripping from your cunt, sliding down the curve of your ass. You’re stretched beyond what you’ve ever felt before, so full and deep and satisfied and a tear slips from the corner of your eye, sliding down over your temple.

He sees it, tongue scooping it up the salty drip before he gives you a bruising, greedy kiss and your hand wraps around the nape of his neck, holding his mouth to yours. Your breath mingling in a hot, humid pant, you can’t even kiss anymore because he’s fucking you too thoroughly and too hard and when you start to come, an almost sob slips out of your mouth; one that he soothes with a shush.

“That’s it, Birdie,” he murmurs, “Come on it. I want to feel you come, okay?”

You already are, the tide cresting in your center overflowing with a burst and your cunt is a slick, tight grip around his cock when it starts, one that squeezes him so tight he lets his forehead rest against yours with a deep, strained groan. When you lock up underneath him with a cry, his hand slides down to cradle the bottom of your jaw, pushing it up to fit his face into your neck.

“Ezra!” His mouth rests open on the juncture of your shoulder for a moment before he bites down, shoving himself harshly inside while he floods the condom with his spend and as the two of you come together, you relish the pain that he instantly soothes with a kiss.

–

“What about you?” you ask, rolling onto your stomach, looking up at him from the cradle of your folded arms. He shifts onto his side, his hand reaching out to caress the length of your naked back.

It’s warm, the perfect temperature for lounging naked on top of the sheets and the sounds of the city in the late afternoon waft through your open window, coming in with the breeze. You are content and so is he; the matching, sated smiles on your faces saying so. He looks so large in your bed, your pink sheets complimenting the tanned flush of his bare skin and he can’t stop touching you, like he’s mesmerized by the softness of your skin.

“Hmm, I don’t know. That’s a tough question.” He thinks for a moment, his hold reaching down to fondle the curve of your bottom and when you can tell he’s no longer thinking and instead playing, you swat his hand away. He huffs a laugh, sliding closer, slipping his hand around the curve of your waist to pull you next to him. “What was the question again?”

He’s distracted by how different you are here, than at his house. There, you are Cee’s friend: youthful, funny, sweet and kind. Here, you are those same things, but different: sensuous, more like a woman. He likes seeing this different side of you, having something for himself.

For the two of you, to share.

“Nevermind.” You lean closer for a kiss, one he grants and you hum against his lips, parting them only just to breathe him in. “Are you hungry? Want to go get some food?”

“Can we stay in?” He murmurs the question against your mouth, his nose sliding along your cheek before his lips find the shell of your ear and you lean into the warmth of his bare skin stretched out along yours. “I don’t really wanna get dressed.”

You laugh, his own deeper one gentle in your ear. “Sure. Lemme grab my phone.”

When you slide out of his hold, he sits up, scooting down the bed and you admire the image of his bare ass and strong, lean thighs as he walks down the hall to your bathroom. Picking up your phone from the bedside table, you see a text on the screen.

Cee: How is your day off going? Wanna meet me for a latte?

It was sent over an hour ago and you push down the guilt of what you were doing when you received that text, closing the message app and opening another one to order food. After you place it, you set the phone down, thinking about the naked man in your bathroom right now.

You stretch out, the pleasant soreness in your limbs and between your legs coming to life with the movement and rolling onto your stomach, you bunch your pillow up under your face and smile so wide the stretch hurts your cheeks.

–

Afterwards, a man sated, he pours over your living room. The spines of the books, the pictures you’ve framed, the art on your walls. He wants to see it all — wants to see you all — and you let him have his look from your seat on the couch.

There is something so intimate about seeing him wander around your hardwood floors barefoot, the same furrow etched into his brow as when he’s working and when he leans forward to look at the titles, you stay silent. His fingers dance along the spines of the books on your shelves, just like you’ve seen him do at the bookstore and you smile affectionately.

“A lot of mid century modern fiction here.”

You shrug. “I like the short, direct sentences. It’s clean. Neat.”

“Is this how you write?” He looks over, eyebrows raised.

You wait a beat before you answer. “I try.”

He seems amused at your answer and when he moves to another bookcase to check those, you scoop up the dinner dishes and walk them to the sink. Coming back into the living room, you curl up in your spot next to the window and watch him pick things up and put them down. Walking around your space, he seems so big for it - and yet also right at home.

“I recognize this,” he smiles, lifting the cover of a book Cee left behind. When he sees a picture of the two of you in a frame next to it, he stares at it for a moment before coming to join you on the couch. He sits down next to you, leaning back into the cushions and you feel a delight in being able to sit as close to him as you want, in the open like this.

“So what do you do all night, when you aren’t at my house?”

“Write. Study. Watch TV, maybe.” You shrug. “Sometimes I —,” you stop yourself, your teeth resting on your lower lip and he thinks it’s endearing the way you look hesitantly timid. “Sometimes I turn all my lights off and open the window and just watch.”

You continue, braver at the way he’s looking at you — just listening, without judgment. “Watch the people, listen to the traffic. I like it. I like the….movement of it. The never ending show of people.”

You turn your head to look out the window and he drapes himself over you and leans in, doing the same. The two of you sit there for a moment, the breeze from outside skimming your faces and he can’t help but nuzzle the curve of your neck, giving it a kiss.

“Like that guy.” You point to a man waiting to cross the street; hands in his pockets, headphones covering his ears. His expression is a blank one — one you’ve learned everyone has mastered while walking around this city. “Where’s he going? Did he just get off from work? Is he headed to work? Maybe to a friend's house, or home alone?”

Peeking at your face, he recognizes an eagerness for life that he saw in himself when he was younger; an insatiable curiosity, but one more so of quiet observation than his way of action. Safer, he thinks. Better.

“I think,” he murmurs, the curve of his nose gliding along the fine hair at the nape of your neck, “you might need some new hobbies, Birdie.” You smell like you, but also like him, and he likes that, inhaling a little more.

You laugh, reaching back to encourage his gentle exploration of your skin. His fingers shift the strap of your dress to the side, his mouth tasting the uncovered skin there and when you move to face him, he settles back into the cushions of the couch.

The spot he’s sitting in, incidentally, is where Cee always sits when she comes over. A clear image of her flits through your mind, and you know that the temporary silence right now would be a good time to ask him what he thinks the two of you should do about her - but you can’t bring yourself to say the words.

That question is a bigger one, a topic you don’t want anywhere near this day you’ve had with him. Today was just for the two of you, a secret bud of joy unfurling in your chest that is yours to nurture and hold and so you push against the guilt, instead climbing onto his lap.

“It’s getting late,” he says, his voice raspy and warm in his lean back to look at you and his hands wrap around the top of your thighs, pushing up underneath your dress. They find your hips, his cock stiffening his jeans at the memory of those hips in his hands earlier and when you bend forward to kiss him, a groan rumbles from his chest.

He doesn’t want this day to end. He wants to stay the night and he could, he supposes. You’d probably let him, if he asked, but he knows Cee will be waiting for you in the morning at the coffee shop you frequent together and the thought of her makes him kiss you deeper, harder, his hands cradling your face to take deep pulls of your taste before he has to leave.

He should break this kiss, but when you trail your small hand down his stomach and slip it between his legs to cup him innocently through his jeans, all logic flies out the window into the night air outside.

“Do you – did you bring another…” you bite your lip, the heft of his cock fitting neatly into the cup of your palm and you roll your hips forward in time with the lingering, firm stroke you give him.

“It’s – fuck, Birdie,” he grits out, his hand covering yours to press your hold tighter against him and he lets out a groan. “It’s in my pocket. I’ve got another one, just –”

You sit up on your knees to let him fish it out, your hands already working open the button of his jeans as he tears the wrapper with his teeth and when you stand up to slide your panties down your legs before climbing back up onto his lap, the two of you are in silent agreement.

Not today. We won’t talk about this today.

#ezra prospect #ezra/reader #ezra/you #ezra x you #ezra x reader #ezra smut #pedro pascal

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steddieunderdogfics · 3 months

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This week's writer spotlight feature is: @ciriceart! They have sixteen works under the Stranger Things tag and ten under the Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson tag over on Archive of our Own!!

Our anonymous nominator recommends the following of their works by CultOfAdoration:

I get this feeling I'm in motion

Rule Me Captive, Drain Me Empty

a good age to meet the person you're going to spend the rest of your life with

to have everything you can see

They care alot about capturing the accurate voice of the characters they write about, and put lots of thought and care into character motivations and worldbuilding :} - anonymous

Below the cut, @ciriceart answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I just like the dynamic, and getting to write dialogue and think about conflicts that might naturally crop up between the two. I don’t think that there was a chance for them to get along well at all if not for the kids dragging them both into the end of the world, so it’s kind of fun to find different ways for them to get past it. Less of a “they would never get together” and more of a “under what circumstances would they get together” situation.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

I think I just like anything that falls into character study or backstory development. I used to eat up anything under the hurt/comfort or angst tags as well, and those can all go pretty well together. Anything that even vaguely evokes Orpheus and Eurydice is also pretty much guaranteed to get my attention.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

Slow burn. A lot of my writing never sees the light of day (or outside groupchats), but a majority of it is “will they, won’t they” slow burn with the two kind of dancing around the subject until it feels inevitable.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

I’m not sure if I have a singular favorite fic. “New York Hardcore” by CaptainHoney is pretty high up there. It’s part of a larger series, but that first entry stuck with me. The tag “Steve deserves to be happy and go ham in the moshpit” is the truest statement I’ve ever read about that man.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I’ve been working on a sort-of AU road trip fic about Steve, Jonathan, and later a hitchhiking Eddie, as they go cross-country. It’s very “right person, wrong place, wrong time”. Right now it’s just a big mess of notes and writing sprints, though.

What is your writing process like?

Almost everything starts off as scribbles in a notebook/Notes app, or taken down in notes app using speech-to-text on my phone. I always have to do the worst version first or it just doesn't feel right. Everything I want to be included gets thrown in there with very little regard for eloquence or order. From there, I break everything down into bullet points that I can expand on whenever I have time, and move things around into chronological order.

Do you have any writing quirks?

There are some words that I feel like I overuse. Things like “definitely”, “just”, and “very”, which reflects my real life speech habits.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

I try holding off posting until I’m finished if only because it feels SO bad if I don’t manage to complete something. It doesn’t usually work. I get excited, so usually I end up starting to post when things are maybe 60% finished. Schedules remind me too much of school to be fun.

Which fic are you most proud of?

I don’t think I have one I’m most proud of, but I don’t have one that I’m not proud of either. “a good age to meet the person you're going to spend the rest of your life with” is one that I thought a lot about and still think about, even though it’s pretty short. I only posted it very recently, but I wrote it shortly after Vol. 2 when thinking too hard about Robin and what her personal life might be like after everything.

How did you get the idea for Rule Me Captive, Drain Me Empty?

I thought it would be interesting to explore the two of them fumbling through kink and figuring things out in a more organic way. It’s something I always find quite cute, and it feels more natural to me when they’re not exactly well versed in the ins and outs of “proper” kink etiquette and terminology.

I’m also a Dom-leaning switch Steve truther and I’m out here in the trenches.

When writing to have everything you can see, what was something you didn’t expect?

The response to it from readers, mostly. I had several people letting me know that the subject matter is more outside of their usual interests but that they ended up enjoying it and seeing the appeal regardless. That’s a pretty big compliment to me because I’m somewhat in the same boat.

What inspired to have everything you can see?

So, when I don’t share an interest with others, I get really heavily invested in why they like that thing, or how the interest came about. It could be about anything - books, music, shows, ships, spirituality, kinks. I just like to Know, I like “getting it”.

I wrote that fic to understand “under what circumstances would this be A Thing for this character” in a somewhat judgment free zone. Just going right the hell into it like “alright, this is what these characters are into. Make it believable and make it fun”. It works!

What was your favorite part to write from I get this feeling I'm in motion?

I think it’s the implication of how routine hangouts like that are, with Steve and Robin. They go to her house, they get snacks and drinks, and they immediately make themselves comfortable in her room. There’s something really sweet about a best friend making themselves at home in your house, and just existing beside you.

How do/did you feel writing Rule Me Captive, Drain Me Empty?

Nervous! I get really in my head about how I go about things at first. Am I being too needlessly verbose? Too much exposition? Do people even care about all the pointless errands they’re going on, or should we just get right to the bedroom?

But then I calm down and figure, I’m having fun writing about Steve intentionally dragging Eddie around town, and everyone else is just going to have to make peace with that.

What was the most difficult part of writing I get this feeling I'm in motion?

Does “not immediately oversharing all of my personal hang-ups in the author's notes” count?

Actually, it was probably making the “repercussions” of Steve’s actions still be scary enough for him to internalize as a kid, but not be too disastrous or dangerous for him. I’m still not sure how I feel about it.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

It’s very small. In “a good age (…)”, Robin thinks about what it might’ve been like if Steve were her brother and they (affectionately) come to the conclusion that they would have been little shitheads to each other as kids.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

I have a handful of steddie illustrations based on fics that I’m waiting for the green light on to post, and quite a number of fics I’m chipping away at. Watch this space!

Thank you to our author, @ciriceart, and our nominator! See more of @ciriceart’s works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

#steddie fic recs #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #writer's spotlight #writer's wednesday

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karahalloway · 8 months

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Mission:Cordonia - Hard Drive

Fandom: TRR x Mission: Impossible II

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series: Mission: Cordonia

Synopsis: Drake drives after Harper and things get wild, in more ways than one...

Word count: 3,700

Rating/Warnings: E (swearing, road rage, all kinds of dangerous driving do not try this at home)

Chapter theme song:

A/N: So, I apparently had too much fun writing Game of Thieves, so after I finished it, my mind decided that it would be great idea to create a follow-up exploring the car-chase scene from Drake's POV. So, here we are! There will probably be two more parts after this.

A/N2: The clip (for anyone who hasn't seen the movie, or doesn't remember) is below. Enjoy!

youtube

Hard Drive

"Dammit..." I cuss under my breath as she drives off.

As asset recruitment went, that had crashed and burned like the Hindenburg.

Not that I strictly know why I need to recruit her in the first place.

Apart from the very clear directive I received in my mission brief.

...you may select any two team members, but it is essential that the third team member be Harper Gale. She is a civilian, and a highly capable professional thief. You have forty-eight hours to recruit Miss Gale and meet me in Stormholt to receive your assignment...

In and of itself, such an instruction — while rare — isn't that left field. Because even though IMF prefers to operate in the shadows, there are times when the mission parameters call for third-party assists. To gain access. To throw off suspicion. To provide specialist expertise.

So, over the years, I've found myself teaming up with all manner of civilians — from world-renowned scientists, through morally shady politicians, all the way down to your entry-level gang-banger in order to get a mission over the line.

But Gale isn't any of those things. She's a common thief. Admittedly a drop-dead gorgeous and bitingly sassy thief who's quick on her feet... but a common thief nevertheless. And those are a dime a dozen. In both IMF, and the underworld.

So, that doesn't explain why The Secretary has gone to such pains to single her out as a mission-critical part of this assignment.

Which means that he obviously knows something I don't.

But I'm not gonna find out what by standing on the Beaumonts' drive like a moron.

"Hey, Pete," I call, turning back around. "One more for you."

The valet manager deftly catches the token that I toss to him. "Right away, Mr Dallas."

"Thanks," I acknowledge as I pull out my phone.

One of the upsides of having had to pretend to be the Beaumonts' external security consultant over the past couple of days is that I'm now on a first name basis with most of the staff.

Which definitely pays dividends when you need something done quick.

Like I do now.

Unlocking the encrypted device while Pete radios through for my ride, I tap on the tracking app and enter the number that I pulled off her phone while waiting for her to crack the safe.

Because somehow, I'd known I'll end up in this exact situation.

After a few moments' calibration, the software throws up a map with a flashing red dot in the centre.

I feel the corner of my mouth twitch. You can run, but you can't hide, girl...

"Your vehicle, Mr Dallas," advises the valet, pulling up in front of me.

"Perfect timing," I grin, pulling my wallet out to extract some notes to stuff into his breast pocket as he exits the car.

"Oh, th-thank you, sir," he stammers, clearly unaccustomed to receiving a healthy tip for his services.

"You're welcome," I nod, getting behind the wheel of the Porsche 918 Spyder.

Besides the fact that the average Joes manning these kinds of events made fuck all money while the guests drank champagne costing several grand a pop, it always paid to cultivate goodwill with the staff. Not just from a common decency point of view, but also because you never know when you’re gonna need their eyes and ears.

So, parting with a couple hundred Euros, or a favour, in exchange for potentially priceless intel down the line is always a fair trade in my book.

"Have a wonderful evening!" enthuses the still star-struck valet as he closes the driver's side door 'round.

"Yeah. We'll see about that," I mutter under my breath as I slot my phone into the cup holder at the top of the centre console.

The evening hasn't exactly gone to plan so far...

But, as The Secretary likes to say, this was Mission: Impossible, not Mission: Difficult.

Which means that even though Gale would probably like nothing more than to shoot me on sight, I have to go after her. And somehow convince her to change her mind.

Otherwise, I'm gonna be up shit creek with this mission...

...and with The Secretary.

And neither of those things is something I'm particularly keen on letting happen. Now, or ever.

So, pressing my foot down, I throw the car into drive and take off with a throaty roar as the naturally aspirated 4.6-liter V-8 kicks the 608 horses under the hood to life.

And, despite the height of the stakes, I feel a grin spread over my face.

Fuck, this car's something else!

Thanks to the less-than routine nature of my work, I frequently find myself behind a wheel. Planes, trains, automobiles — I've driven them all. But I can still count on one hand the machines that have simply taken my breath away.

And the 918 is one of them.

Because despite the fact that it doesn't come with the covetous price tag of a Koenigsegg, or the iconic lines of a Ferrari, the 918 is still a work of art. Not only does it go like shit off a shovel, but it also handles like a dream. Which means you're not crapping yourself every time a high-speed corner comes around.

And for these unlit, backcountry roads that I'm about to drive, that is critical.

Reaching the end of the gravel-lined drive, I spin the car out onto the main road and open up the throttle.

Gale is already a good few miles ahead of me, and — based on the way she hightailed it off the estate earlier — has no intention of slowing down. So, I'm gonna have to step on it if I want to keep pace with her.

As even though I have a lock on her carrier signal, her phone could be a burner — she could decide to turn it off, trash it, or leave it in a dumpster somewhere. And I'm up against the clock, so I don't have time to play hide-and-seek across the width of the continent with her.

Probably shouldn't've told her about the alarm...

But, hindsight's always 20-20.

Not that that necessarily would've changed my decision.

Because despite the fact that I need her professional skill set, I couldn't let her swindle the Duke out of his priceless heirloom. For one, it had merely been convenient bait. And for another, next week's auction is all that stood between the Beaumonts and bankruptcy.

And while I may operate in the shadows, I'm not a complete ass.

Plus, I'd wanted to be up front with her. From the very start.

Because nothing sinks a team like secrets and bad blood. And I'd much rather deal with any potential fallout now, before the start of the actual mission, than smack, bang in the middle of it when a lack of trust has the potential to claim actual lives.

And — if I'm being honest with myself — I kinda like the chase. It makes the eventual win taste that much sweeter.

Especially with a woman like Gale.

I swallow an inadvertent groan as my mind falls back to the feel of her pressed up against me in the tub, her eyes flashing with defiance, and a hint of—

I shake my head. Focus, Walker.

But the Beaumonts' unexpected interruption had been worth it. Because it'd convinced me that despite her civilian status, she has exactly the right combination of brains and balls needed to not only stay alive, but actually be an asset on this mission.

But, I don't have her yet. And if I'm gonna finish reeling her her, timing will be key.

So, as I spot a pair of Mercedes tail lights in the darkness, I ease off the gas.

Because her emotions are already running high and I don't want to spook her further by making her think that she's being tailed.

Especially not on these blind-spot riddled roads, in the middle of the night, where one moment of inattention could easily become your last.

And what I definitely don't need right now is my mark ending up in the ER — or worse, the morgue — because I let the heat of the moment get the better of me.

Best that I just hang back, let the dust settle, and re-engage upon arrival at our destination. When she's hopefully calmer.

Key word — hopefully.

Because let's face it. I'd be pretty pissed off too if some asshole'd fucked me out of a six-figure payday.

So, I can't exactly blame her for her explosive reaction.

But, unfortunately for her, there's a lot more at stake here than a jewellery heist gone wrong. Like stopping an IMF agent-turned-rogue operative from unleashing a virus so deadly that it makes Ebola look like a common cold.

Better pray she's got a conscience...

Rounding the bend, we come upon the lights of the town of Ramsford.

But, despite the fact that we're entering an urban environment, Gale blows past the 50 km/h speed limit sign like it doesn't exist.

"Christ, girl..." I grumble under my breath.

And even though I told myself mere minutes ago that I was gonna hang back and give her space, as I see her whip the roadster 'round a narrow corner at breakneck speed, I find myself throwing my original plan out the window as I press pedal to the metal to keep pace with her.

Because while I don't want to lose her, I also know that engaging in a midnight drag race through the streets Ramsford's only gonna result in one thing — the cops coming out of the woodworks to breathe down our neck, and Gale even more pissed off at me than she is already.

So, I need a Plan B.

Skimming my thumb over the controls on the steering wheel, I pull up her number and hit dial...

...and pray that I can talk some sense into her.

The ring of the pending call echoes out from the Spyder's infotainment system once... twice... thrice...

She finally picks up after the fifth ring. "Hello...?"

"Would it kill you to slow down?" I ask dryly.

I see her stiffen as her gaze flies up to the rear view mirror in disbelief.

I flash my headlights at her in response.

"How the hell did you get this number?" she demands as she manages to find her voice again.

"You got your tricks, I got mine," I tell her simply, easing up on the gas slightly as I pull up behind her.

"Yeah, you're a regular David Copperfield," she snarks down the line.

"I prefer Darren Brown, personally..."

"Hmm..." she purrs. "Then you're really gonna love this trick."

The call goes dead.

I shake my head with a scoff. 15-Love to Gale.

But the match ain't won yet. And I'm not backing off that easy.

So, hitting redial on her number, I wait for the call to reconnect...

...but all I get is radio silence.

"You wanna play it like that, huh?" I say under my breath as I swing the Spyder out into the oncoming lane.

Luckily, at this hour, the roads are deserted. But that doesn't means that they're gonna stay that way for long. Which means the time for games is up.

Opening up the throttle, I force my car up alongside hers. Raising my voice so that'll carry over the roar of the engines, I shout, "Pull over and listen to me, will ya? Just listen!"

"Yeah!" she scoffs in reply. "'Cause that worked out so well for me last time!"

"You walked away, remember?" I remind her. "Can't guarantee that'll be the case next time 'round."

Her gaze snaps defiantly to mine. "Is that a threat?"

"It's simple maths!" I tell her. "You can't evade the law forever! Especially not with a Red Notice hanging over you. But if you help me, I can make all that go away."

"Go aw—?" Her eyes suddenly widen. "Holy shit! You're a spy!"

I answer her with a self-deprecating shrug. It paid the bills.

She recollects herself to throw me a sly look. "Prove it!"

Without warning, she rams her Mercedes into me.

"Jesus fuck!" I cuss as the Sypder lurches to the side from the impact, it's rims scraping the curb.

Flipping me the bird, Gale punches the gas to dive back in front of me, whipping her car 'round a tight bend.

Spitting profanities under my breath, I yank the Spyder back onto the road.

She wants to play rough? I'll play rough.

Throwing the engine over to sport mode, I reach for the seatbelt over my shoulder and click it into place as I throw the car after her, the rev counter on the dash going mental as the engine doubles down.

And despite the adrenaline-fuelled chase, I can't help but grin.

This girl's definitely something else...

And she's sure as hell determined to make me work for it. Or — at the very least — give me hell for the way I screwed her over back at the Beaumonts.

Either way, she's got my blood pumping, and she knows it.

Which makes me even more determined to catch her.

We hit a round-about, and Gale looks like she's going straight over...

...but at the last second, she slams her car hard to the left to take the third exit instead, tires smoking as they battle for traction on the cobblestones.

"Shit," I cuss, twisting the wheel hard over to keep pace with her, the Porsche's Pirellis screeching in protest.

Exiting the roundabout, the road in front of us cuts suddenly to the left. Slamming on the breaks, Gale skids her Mercedes 'round the bend, the force of the manoeuvre kicking the roadster's tail out. Very narrowly missing a lamppost, she manages to right the car at the last second to barrel it down the start of a tight switch-back that led to the centuries-old bridge on the edge of the town.

"Sweet fucking Jesus, girl..." I gripe under my breath as I speed after her.

There's being cocky. And then there's being reckless. And the way she's driving, she's definitely tempting fate. Because there's only so many times you can luck out before your luck actually runs out.

Which means I have to figure out a way to stop her before she runs herself off the road.

Depressing the gas pedal again, I search for an opening that I can use to dive in front of her and force her to slow down. But she seems to anticipate my plan, and closes off the gap before I'm able to make use of it.

Grabbing the e-break, I rip it upwards, forcing the Spyder’s tail out as I skid the car 'round her, looking for a gap on the other side.

She rewards me for my efforts by ramming into me again, nearly sending me into the flimsy metal railing that lined the edge of the asphalt.

I feel my jaw tighten at her antics.

First time? Kinda funny. Second time, not so much.

Especially since there were only a grand total of 918 Spyders ever made, and I damn sure don’t want to be responsible for taking one out of commission.

So, I make the reluctant decision to back off again, biding my time until the road opened back up.

We hit the bottom of the switchback, engines blaring and tailpipes sweating, and she immediately punches it towards the old stone bridge that spans the Rams river.

"Better luck next time, Walker!" she calls over her shoulder.

But my attention isn't focused on her. "Watch the road, girl..."

She whips her head around at the last second to clock the rickety Fiat that had just pulled out from behind the blind corner, straight into her path.

Instinctively knowing that she isn’t gonna avoid a collision, she ditches the breaks to try and swerve the Mercedes 'round the hazard instead.

But her momentum is too great, she's forgotten to account for the oversteer...

...and she descends into a tailspin.

"Fuck..." I curse under my breath.

All rational thought evaporates as my adrenaline spikes and my faculties give over to raw instinct.

I gotta save her.

Barrelling the Spyder after her without any semblance of a plan, the only thing I'm focused on is stopping her before she hits the bridge... or worse, the river.

The nose of her car whips past me, and I wrench the wheel to the right, clipping her bumper.

The off-the-cuff interference is enough to change the course of her trajectory, helping prevent her getting wrapped around the stone pillar at the foot of the bridge.

But the Merc's still freewheeling out of control.

Jerking the Porsche 'round, I slam it into the side of her car, trying to use the weight of my vehicle as a ballast to counteract her momentum.

But we're still going too fast.

We go flying down the narrow concourse of the bridge, like a pair of buzzards locked together in a high-stakes dance, speeding towards our fate.

The force of the impact whips her head around. She catches my gaze, and despite the low light, I see the sheer terror in her hazel-green irises...

...and the world around me condenses down to a single point.

Her.

The bridge, the cars, the entirety of my being fades to inconsequence in the face of the nakedness of her vulnerability.

I'm barely even conscious of my actions as I battle against the inevitable, trying to keep a lock on the steering wheel that’s threatening to jump out of my hands, feathering the throttle with a mix of reflex and dogged defiance in an attempt to alter the course of our trajectory, to slow us down, to narrowly avert disaster.

Because even though I know in the furthest recesses of my mind that I'm engaged in a fool's errand, like Icarus, I'm too much of a stubborn ass to back down.

Especially when I know that I'm literally the only thing standing between her and death.

The Merc hits the curb and slams into the low stone wall lining the side of the bridge. The centuries-old mortar crumbles under the weight of the impact, falling away into the ravine below.

But — whether by the grace of God or blind, dumb luck — the red roadster somehow catches itself on the mess of granite and skids to a stop, suspended over the edge of the bridge.

Only... there's no Gale in the driver's seat.

Throwing the seatbelt off, I leap across the seats into the Merc, where I find the driver's side door flapping over the darkness with Gale hanging on for dear life.

"Ahhh...!" she squeaks, scrambling for non-existent purchase as she tries to maintain her hold on the elbow rest...

...but I can see she's slipping.

Knowing that we're fast running out of time, I throw myself forward, reaching for her.

"Harper!"

Her eyes snap to mine, and I can see the fear and desperation welling within.

Latching onto the top of the door with one hand to anchor myself into place, I snap a hold around her wrist with the other and heave her back up.

"I got you, girl..."

Clearing the side of the car, her free hand shoots out to tangle into the material of my shirt as I pull her toward me. She crashes against me with a sob of relief, knocking me backwards into the seat.

She lands on top of me, trembling, and I wrap my arm around her, holding her to me, heart hammering as I stare up into the night sky, trying to catch my breath.

Her quaking form sink against me as she buries her face in the crook of my neck, fingers still latched onto my shirt, our hands still entwined.

Sweet Jesus, that was close...

"You okay?" I ask, running my hand over the arch of her back questioningly.

"Yeah," she nods shakily, not quite meeting my eye as she quickly wipes the wetness from her cheeks.

"Hey," I say softly, reaching up to cup her face in my palm. "It's—"

"I feel like such an idiot..." she grumbles.

"Well, you're the one who decided to Mad Max it through Ramsford like a—"

"Shut up!" she reproaches, smacking me on the chest.

"Christ! I save your ass twice and this is the thanks I get?"

"I didn't need saving!" she counters, laying into me again.

"The evidence points to the cont— Ow!"

"The only reason I'm in this mess at all is because of you!" she cuts in heatedly. "If you hadn't shown up tonight I'd—"

"Probably got caught anyway..."

"Fuck you!" she shouts, giving me a shove. "And then instead of taking 'no' for an answer, you decide to chase after me like some—"

"For fuck’s sake..." I grit, grabbing her by the back of the neck to yank her towards me.

Her eyes widen, but before she has a chance to protest, our mouthes have crashed together like cars in a freeway pile-up — violently, hazardously — the unexpected brush with death and the heart-thumping chase beforehand having already kicked both our pulses into overdrive.

And as our lips meet, that pent-up tension explodes like a flash-bang.

Her teeth scrape against mine with an intensity that's almost feral, even as I feel her body press into mine, her nails raking over my shirt.

My tongue thrusts past hers forcefully to claim the coveted warmth of her mouth, coaxing a soft moan from her as my free hand glides down her body to clamp onto her backside, pulling her to me hungrily as I throw every rule I'd ever been taught out the window.

Never get involved.

Well, too late for that.

Because I'm sure as shit involved now.

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Picture credits:

Drake - Porsche - Harper

#harper gale #drake walker #the royal romance #game of thieves #hard drive #mission: impossible #mission: cordonia #mashup #Spotify

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