Hi guys!! I wanted to come on here and put a notice because a comment in a recent post of mine has brought something very important to my attention.
On my SMAU's there is a warning at the bottom of each image by the text bar saying what you're looking at is AI.
NOTHING i have ever posted on here has been written with ai, proofed by ai, or anything of the sorts.
i am very much aware of how damaging ai is not only to our planet and society in general, but to authors integrity as well. i am very much anti AI and will never post anything that is written by AI
Unfortunately, the app i used to create these messages has a feature where you can use AI/speak to AI from my understanding. And as far as I can tell there is no way to remove the warning even though i have no used any AI features on the app.
Right now I am using MeMi message on Apple products to make these SMAU's for you guys. if any one is aware of a better platform to use that doesn't have this issue i would love to know please.
So please, if you can spread the word to not only let readers know they are not reading works of AI, but so other creators can become aware of this issue if its something they haven't noticed.
it’s the fourth time his kids have started whispering and giggling amongst each other, and it’s extremely distracting for ryland. he pauses his lesson, giving his students a look.
“what are you all laughing about?” his mouth twitches as he tries to act serious, but their laughter is contagious.
“you have a little something.” one of the kids points to his jawline and ryland’s eyes go wide, fingers coming away bright pink when he touches the lipstick stain on his skin.
ryland’s sure he’s going bright red as his kids start to gossip.
“is that from your girlfriend?” someone else exclaims.
“she’s super pretty! i saw her leaving the classroom last week—“
“okay, that’s enough,” ryland rubs the back of his neck and wishes the ground would swallow him whole; the last thing he needs is his kids knowing too much detail about his love life. “but she is. super pretty.”
his students make ‘aww’ sounds and ryland waves them off, jumping back into the lesson like nothing happened.
when he steps into your shared apartment later, and you smile at him wearing the criminalising lipstick, warmth pools in the pit of his stomach.
SUMMARY A Movie Night preview ends in tears, betrayal, and the start of something better.
CONTENT love island au, fem reader, angst with some hurt/comfort, love island relationship dynamics, reader is in a toxic relationship (not with Garrett), love island levels of bullying (people talking about each other behind their backs), drama, fighting and arguing, men being evil, insecurities and negative self-talk, mentions of Garrett's canon childhood, Garrett dgaf about most of the people in the villa, slightly suggestive, I know love island usually only has one movie night but let's just pretend the producers are rooting for Garrett and reader and wanted to help them out lol, barely edited
A/N this one's kinda sad sorry but I do love a bit of angst and Garrett saves the day so it's ok !! they still don't couple up in this part (I'm sorry! I'm sorry!) but I got carried away and this is at like 5k words already, so the recoupling will be the next part I promise! when I first started this series, I didn't have it totally planned out so this might retcon some of the stuff in other parts but let's all agree to be ok with that 👍 also, I have decided to do a taglist yay :) you can find the form for it at the bottom of this post. anyway please enjoy!
love island masterlist
You’ve been harboring a bit of a secret in the Villa.
Ironically, the only people who knew about it were… all of America, but with your every moment being filmed and routine confessionals that felt more like a personal diary, that was bound to happen. You don’t know how much of it is making the final edit of each episode, but honestly you don’t want to think about it.
Because you’ve been loving growing close with all the girls. Even some of the guys—namely, Garrett and Tucker—had become fast friends. But the truth that you haven’t told anyone in the Villa is that things with Joe really weren’t going that well. They were going quite bad actually.
From your very first interview, before you even entered the Villa, you knew your biggest weakness during this summer would be your hopeless romanticism. You were sentimental to a fault, watching rom coms like they were true stories and always smiling at elderly couples in the park. And maybe it was silly to believe that you could actually find love on a reality dating show, but you did. Because you love caring about people, you love having relationships that are important to you, you love love.
And, sure, in the past, that had come back to bite you in the ass. You’d bent over backwards—trying to force square blocks into round holes—to delay the inevitable end of relationships. You’d let people treat you in ways that you shouldn’t have, you put weight into moments that didn’t really mean anything, like if you just pretended that it was love long enough that would make it true.
But despite all the hurt and heartbreak, you knew your person was out there. Everyone has to kiss a few frogs before they find their prince. And so, in this brightly colored villa in Fiji, where the only thing any of you are allowed to do is explore connections and make meaningful relationships, you earnestly came into it thinking that it was a place where it was possible to find love.
That’s what made things with Joe so difficult. Because you wanted it to work with him. You wanted to feel that spark, and fall in love, and not have to worry about stepping on anyone’s toes because you’re already coupled up with each other. And maybe that’s why you didn’t tell anyone, because then you’d be forced to admit that it wasn’t working—that it didn’t just need more time.
Or maybe it was because, secretly, you worried that the other Islanders would agree with him.
At first, it started small—little things that were easy to look past—like him sometimes talking over you when you were all chatting in a group or letting his gaze linger on the other girls too long as if you weren’t sitting right next to him.
And then it escalated into things that weren’t so small.
“Oh my god, would you please shut up?”
Your words die in your throat, your thoughts about the day left unfinished at Joe’s sudden outburst.
He doesn’t notice your hurt expression, dragging two tired hands across his face. “I’m not trying to be rude but Jesus Christ. You’ve been talking nonstop for, like, 45 minutes.”
“Oh.” You say dumbly, words now tasting bitter in your mouth. “I’m sorry. I—I didn’t realize.”
Joe lets his head loll casually against the couch of the Speakeasy, his irritation turning into something lazier. You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth painfully.
“It’s fine, just—It’s okay to be quiet sometimes, you know? I don’t even know how you have time to breathe half the time.” He keeps his tone light, glancing at you like what he said was supposed to be funny.
You force a hollow laugh. “Right.”
You look down at your fingers, picking at the chipping nail polish on one of your nails. You don’t say anything else and when Joe finally clears his throat and tells you that he’s going to go get a drink, you only nod.
Still, you tried to tell yourself that it was fine. Maybe Joe didn’t always remember the things you told him—or got them confused with things the other girls had told him—but you do talk a lot, it would be kind of unreasonable to expect him to. And maybe he’d sometimes walk away from you mid-sentence or cut you off to start a conversation with someone else, but some of that wasn’t entirely foreign to you anyway.
If you got too excited, he was always the first to tell you to calm down. He didn’t really get the things you were interested in or why you would be interested in them. Somehow you could never manage to get through a conversation with him without saying something that annoyed him, but he’d always correct you—jokingly, of course.
You knew it was bad. But with the incessant fear that the friends you’ve made in here would actually agree with Joe if you told them, the fact that millions of people were watching you be treated this way, and the knowledge that, so far, your time on Love Island had been anything but love, you were just tired.
And so you stuck to the script—that you and Joe weren’t great, but fine, and it was still early days and all—and started cutting yourself off when you noticed you’d been talking too long, or just trying not to talk much all together, which maybe the others appreciated, you don’t know. No one had said otherwise.
“You good?”
A soft nudge to your shoulder snaps you back from your thoughts.
You turn to find Garrett looking at you questioningly. There’s a small crease between his brows—and you’re hit with the strangely intrusive thought that you want to reach over and smooth it out. You don’t.
“Yeah, I’m good. Just… thinking.”
He watches you carefully. Something unreadable warms his eyes, that makes you feel like, despite the fact you’re surrounded by the other Islanders, you’re the only person in the room. Whatever it is he’s looking for, he seems to find it in your expression, his face morphing into something that just borders concern.
Before you can insist that you’re fine, he turns to face you fully. “Is this because I beat you at ping pong this morning?”
“What?” The question genuinely baffles you and you shake your head. “No—,”
“Oh, so you think I cheated?”
“—I’m—What? No, I don’t—?”
“Tucker, are you hearing this shit?” Garrett raises his voice slightly to get the attention of the other man, who’s only a few feet away, talking idly with Meg. “She thinks I cheated.”
“I literally never said that,” you tell Tucker, completely dumbfounded.
Tucker looks between the two of you in amusement. “Sounds like you need a rematch then.”
“But I didn’t—,”
“You heard the man.” Before you can protest further, Garrett’s hand is wrapped around your wrist and he’s guiding you away from the lawn and towards the ping pong table. “Rematch. You and me. Right now. I can’t have you damaging my reputation by calling my pong integrity into question.”
You stop just short of the ping pong table, staring at him incredulously. “Your pong integrity? Who even are you right now—Are you on drugs or something?”
“The drug I’m about to be on is the endorphin rush I’m gonna get from beating you.” Garrett shoots you a cocky smirk, spinning his ping pong paddle around in his hand. “Unless you’re too scared…”
That finally gets an amused scoff from you and you pick up your own paddle. “Alright, fine. Let’s play, cheater.”
“Get ready to lose, princess.” Garrett grabs the ping pong ball, lining it up with the table for his shot. He looks up at you. “This is me starting, by the way.”
Since Garrett’s first night in the Villa—and your first game of ping pong—the two of you have continued to play fairly routinely, given that it was one of the few entertainments you all had during your downtime. Due to that, you’ve noticeably improved. You’re still not stellar at it, but you’ve gotten good enough to be able to hold your own against Garrett.
(He’s definitely going a little easy on you, but after you played one game against Tucker—who very much did not—you decided that you were okay with that.)
The ball bounces between you steadily and concentrating on it gives you something to focus on that isn’t everything going on with Joe.
Garrett—because he’s better than you at ping pong—doesn’t need to stare directly at the ball at all times and you can see him periodically glancing at you from your peripheral.
You’re in the middle of sending the ball back to him when you’re suddenly hit with a thought. “How does a person cheat at ping pong?”
You don’t look up, but you feel Garrett’s eyes on you. The ball comes back to you with a satisfying click and he shrugs.
“You’re the one who called me a cheater, you tell me.”
Your brows furrow as you think. “You could use, like, a weighted paddle? Do they even make regulation ping pong paddles? Oh! You could say the ball was out of bounds or something.”
“I couldn’t,” Garrett chuckles, hitting the ball with a relaxed swing. “I think you’d actually demand playback footage from the producers before letting me say the ball was out of bounds.”
“Yeah, and I’d be right.” You have to lunge slightly to reach the ball, sending it back over the net.
It goes back and forth between you a few more times.
“You could bribe the ref.”
Garrett looks up, cracking a smile. “The ref?”
“I mean, Tucker watches us sometimes,” you shrug. “And this morning he said one of my points didn’t count when it totally counted.”
Garrett feigns a dramatic sigh. “Alright, you caught me. I’ve been purposefully lifting smaller weights at the gym to make Tucker look better and in exchange, he’s been makin’ dirty calls during our games.”
You nearly miss the ball he sends back as you laugh in surprise. “Oh my god.”
“What?” Garrett matches your laugh with a grin.
“How do you still manage to brag even in a confession of guilt?”
“It’s not a brag if it’s just a fact. I can’t help my herculean build.”
You raise your eyebrows with an amused look. “Spell ‘herculean’.”
“I will not, thank you.” Garrett’s immediate, matter-of-fact tone makes you laugh.
You go to say something else—nearly missing the ping pong ball again, but managing to salvage your swing enough to get it over the net—when a voice suddenly rings through the Villa.
“Guys, I got a text!” Sean shouts.
The impromptu ping pong game is suddenly forgotten as you all make your way over to Sean, who reads out the text.
“‘Islanders, grab your popcorn and take your seats as tomorrow evening the Villa presents its first Movie Night! #FirstDayDrama #JustThePreviews’”
Having the Movie Night announcement hanging over your heads for the entire night and most of the day leaves everyone on edge and the feelings only intensify when you all walk out for the evening to see a large projector screen set up on the grass. Two large couches have also been moved in front of the screen and you and the girls sit on one couch while the boys take the other. On the grass between the couches is a large plastic coin with the word ‘girls’ spelled out in cursive on one side—you assume the other side must look similar, but say ‘boys’ instead.
The projector screen lights up suddenly, displaying a picture of five side-by-side doors, each labeled with a number from 1-5. Someone sucks in a breath. You clench and unclench your hands nervously when Allie’s phone chimes with a text.
“‘Islanders, tonight you’ll get to see what your fellow Islanders REALLY think of you. You will each take turns flipping a coin to decide if the boys or the girls are picking a clip.’”
Hannah is first to toss the coin and when it lands in the grass, the ‘boys’ side is facing up.
The boys quickly whisper between themselves before Jordan calls out their decision. “We’re picking door number four.”
The projector whirs to life and starts playing a clip of Allie talking in her confessional.
She looked uneasy, eyes darting around nervously as she shrank into the seat. “Honestly, I’m really not feeling things with Sean. Like, he’s just not my type at all and I am trying too, like—The attraction just isn’t there. But, I don’t know, there’s not a lot of options in the Villa right now, so I don’t really know what else to do but focus on him.”
When the clip ends, Sean is looking at her incredulously. “Are you serious, Allie?”
“It looks worse than it is,” Allie starts. “It was one clip, Sean—,”
“One clip where you basically just called me a safety net—Oh, sorry, a safety net you’re not attracted to!”
“I didn’t mean it like that!” She protests. “And I’ve done plenty of confessionals talking positively about you, I just—Maybe I shouldn’t have said it like that, but you have to admit that our connection isn’t exactly…”
She trails off as she tries to find the right word, but Sean isn’t looking at her anymore, instead staring at the projector stubbornly.
The air stays uncomfortable as Paul gets up to take his turn. The coin lands on ‘boys’ again and Allie quietly grumbles out a curse next to you. The boys choose to open door number one and you all wait for the clip to play.
It opens on Dionne and Meg laying on the pool loungers together, a little farther away Allie and Sean were sitting and talking with each other. Dionne watched the two, letting out a small snort and shaking her head.
“I almost feel bad for him.”
“Hmm?” Meg turned to look at the other girl.
“Sean.” Dionne pointed to the couple in front of them. “It’s obvious he’s way more into Allie than she is in him.”
Meg peered at the two of them from over her sunglasses. “He’s not just ‘way more into her’, I don’t think she likes him period.”
She glanced back at Dionne before quieting her voice.
“She was talking to me about it. Apparently Sean’s, like, boring as fuck in bed. Like, I guess, Allie really likes doing sexual stuff or whatever and Sean’s not really like that. She told me he’s not even that good at kissing either. Which, like, he kissed me in a challenge and yeah, but I thought he was just nervous or something. I guess that’s what he’s like all the time.”
Dionne grimaced at the oblivious couple. “I’m calling it now, one of them is gonna be the first to go home.”
Immediately after the clip finishes, Sean is back to round two of trying to argue with Allie. But she’s too busy arguing with Dionne and Meg, talking pointedly about them talking behind her back and making fun of her couple, while Dionne argues that you’d all just watched a clip of Allie doing the same thing.
“You know, honestly, you’re one to talk, Di,” Allie exclaims in frustration.
Dionne narrows her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re talking all this shit about me and Sean, but have you looked at your own couple? You have more chemistry with your water bottle than you do with Paul!”
As another argument starts, you and Hannah lock eyes with each other worriedly. She nudges her head towards the coin questioningly and you get the hint, standing up suddenly and clapping once to get everyone’s attention. “Okay! I’ll go next.”
You go to toss the coin before anyone can object and it finally lands on ‘girls’. There’s a frosty level of tension between Meg, Dionne, and Allie, but you all manage to agree on choosing door number two.
The video behind door number two is a clip from Hannah and Garrett’s date. You all watch as two of them talked during the picnic date production had set up for them, the vibes clearly flirty and the attraction evident on both of their faces.
Your heart sinks a little bit when Garrett pulled Hannah in for a kiss, his fingers tangling in her hair as her own fingers fisted his shirt, but you force yourself to get over it. You and Garrett aren’t a couple, you’re not even sure if he likes you like that, so you certainly don’t have a right to be hurt by the sight of him kissing Hannah—which you already knew about anyway because she told you.
On screen, Garrett pulled Hannah into his lap, soft sounds slipping out of both of their mouths as the two of them continued to get lost in the kiss. Her hips rolled against his slowly a couple times before he grabbed onto them suddenly, his lips never leaving hers as he flipped them both over to pin her down on the picnic blanket before the scene fades to black.
“What the fuck?” The anger in Justin’s voice kind of surprises you, since you thought that Hannah had already explained to you all what happened on her date with Garrett. “You told me it was one kiss, Hannah, not that you were fucking dry humping each other.”
Next to him, Garrett shifts uncomfortably.
“I’m sorry!” Hannah looks at Justin pleadingly. “I panicked, okay? It’s just—Before my date with Garrett, I was really unsure where you and I stood, like, you never initiated anything between us or talked to me about how you were feeling—,”
“Oh, so it’s my fault?” Justin scoffs.
“No! I’m just trying to explain that I went into the date genuinely trying to explore a connection with Garrett because I wasn’t sure how you felt about me. But then, when I came back, you were being so sweet and we were finally able to talk about our connection and I just felt so guilty about it. I just didn’t want to hurt you or ruin things!”
Before Justin can respond, Allie sits up indignantly. “I’m sorry but why are you acting like Hannah did anything wrong? The whole point of being here is exploring connections. So what if she kissed Garrett? It was three days in and, hell, we’ve pretty much all kissed each other by now.”
“I really don’t think this is your business, Allie,” Justin rolls his eyes. “But thank you for the input about how I should feel about Hannah lying to me.”
Throughout the entire exchange, Garrett had stayed silent, staring an uncomfortable hole in the grass and wincing periodically. At this point, he must have had enough because he stands up wordlessly to take his turn for the boys. The coin lands on ‘girls’ again, but at this point no one even cares that much, just wanting the night to be over. The girls pick door number three and the video starts playing.
Something drops in your stomach when you see Joe on the screen.
He was standing in the kitchen with Paul as they both filled up their water bottles. The video cuts to you jumping up and down on the daybed excitedly at something Allie said while she laughed at your reaction. The sounds of your squealing could be heard even from the kitchen and the clip goes back to showing Joe and Paul.
At the sound of your voice, Joe rolled his eyes, muttering something to Paul that the mics only just caught. Whoever edited the video had done you the favor of adding captions, though.
“Sometimes she’s so annoying, bro.”
“Damn, man, tell me how you really feel,” Paul chuckled.
“I mean it, it’s—She’s fucking exhausting.” Joe ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Like, she talks so much and, yeah, I thought it was cute at first, but that was before I knew that she doesn’t stop. That's literally how she is all the time. And half the shit she says isn’t even—It’s just random shit that I have to pretend to care about.”
The clip ends, but before anyone can react, another starts playing.
This time, it was Joe, Sean, Paul, and Justin all working out together at the gym. The video starts with Joe, seemingly, in the middle of telling the guys something.
“—So she pulled me for a chat and asked me why I was acting so weird at the bombshell announcement.”
Sean cocked his head from where he was sitting on one of the weight machines. “What’d you say?”
“Nothing, bro! What was I supposed to say? ‘Yeah, I was fucking disappointed. I was hoping the bombshell would choose you for his date instead of Hannah.’” He laughed and a few of the guys joined in. “Like, at this point, just take her bro. I don’t fucking care!”
The clip ends but, somehow, the video still isn’t over. What follows is a handful of clips of Joe making disparaging comments about you behind your back, disparaging comments about you to your face, heavily flirting with Meg multiple times—still managing to demean you while he did so, because apparently the guy is nothing if not consistent. With each new clip, you feel your throat get tighter, humiliation burning at the back of your neck as more and more tears well up in your eyes that you desperately try to keep at bay.
When the video finally ends, no one says a word.
You can feel everyone’s eyes on you, watching you with varying levels of pity and shame, but you don’t look away from the frozen screen. Next to you, Hannah says your name softly.
You get up before you can think.
The video itself was humiliating enough, but the thought of having to debrief it with everyone else is what finally pushes your tears over the edge. You don’t say anything, wiping harshly at your cheeks and walking away quickly, ignoring everyone trying to call out to you. You can hear the beginnings of a fight already starting, the girls yelling angrily at Joe as some of the boys start to argue as well.
It’s not loud enough to overpower the voice in your head though, Joe’s words echoing on a maddening loop. You make it to the dock before you even realize where you’re going, collapsing on the cushioned seat as you finally allow yourself to cry. You drag your knees up to your chest feebly and, once the dam’s open, you can’t stop, letting out everything you’ve been pushing down and trying to ignore since your first days in the Villa. It’s ugly, and raw, and you can only hope that the Love Island editors will have the decency to at least not zoom in on your face if they air this.
You hear the creaking steps of someone following you down the dock, slowing to a stop a few feet away from you. With a heavy sniffle, you look up to see Garrett standing in front of you.
“Hey.” His tone is soft, but as he takes in your tear stained face, there’s a restrained anger in his eyes. “I, um, I just wanted to check on you.”
When you don’t say anything, he looks down at his feet.
“If you want to be alone right now, I can go. You can tell me to fuck off, it’s okay.”
You don’t want him to go, but the most you can manage to do to convey that is shake your head. Garrett seems to understand though and he moves to sit down next to you. You don’t know if you move first or he does, but almost as soon as he sits down, his arms wrap around you tightly and you bury your face into his chest, your sobs muffled by his shirt.
You feel him rest his chin against the top of your head, pulling you closer as his hands rub your back comfortingly.
“What did I do?” You ask helplessly through jagged breaths. “I don’t understand what I did wrong.”
Garrett shakes his head, swallowing thickly. “Nothing. You didn’t do anything wrong, he’s just an asshole.”
“He kept saying it to so many people. And no one disagreed with him, Garrett!”
“Because he only said it to people who don’t matter. They should’ve said something,” he agrees. “But fuck them too. You know me and Tucker would’ve never let him get away with sayin’ that shit, neither would Hannah or Di—I’m pretty sure Tucker is physically holding Allie back from strangling him right now.”
When another one of your small sobs is muffled by his shirt, his arms slightly tighten around you. “So I’m gonna be kind of offended if you choose to believe them over us.”
The joke falls a bit flat—but maybe that’s because it was meant to be more honest than humorous. Neither of you say anything else and Garrett just holds you as your sobs trickle into something smaller, now turning into periodic, exhausted sniffles.
“He shouldn’t have said that shit.” After the moment of quiet, Garrett’s voice comes out soft, almost hesitant, and you feel it vibrate against his chest. “Not just because it’s disrespectful–it is–but because it also isn’t true.”
You suck in a deep breath, wiping at your eyes as you pull away slightly from the comfort of Garrett’s shirt. “It is true. I do talk too much. I never know when to shut up.”
You feel a new wave of tears creep up your sinuses.
“And I hate that I’m like this, it’s so stupid.”
“It’s not stupid,” Garrett tells you, but you can barely process it, already shaking your head.
“He’s not even the first person—I just... I used to get interrupted all the time, you know? I guess I still do, actually. I just—It felt like no one really cared about what I had to say or that I was, like, easy to forget.” You wipe at your nose with the back of your hand. “And so when I talk, it just all spills out at once and I keep talking and talking. Sometimes I feel like if I stop talking, no one will give me the chance to again.”
The confession hangs in the air and you laugh bitterly. “But maybe I should just take the hint, huh? Like maybe there’s a reason no one—,”
“Stop.” Garrett’s voice comes out gentle, but stern. He pauses. “Okay, I’m aware that me interrupting you right now is probably not helping what I’m trying to say, but just listen to me, okay?”
His eyes peer into your own, reflecting the soft light of the night. With a slow hand, he reaches up to brush the tears from your cheek. “Look, I’m not… great at this kind of stuff, but—Honestly, you’re the only reason I haven’t gone crazy in here yet.”
“Garrett—,”
“I’m serious. Do you know how boring it is—How boring, like, half the people in here are? Sean might genuinely be one of the most boring people I’ve ever met. The most interesting he’s been in his whole life was 20 minutes ago when he was arguing with Allie.” He shakes his head.
“They all say stupid shit, and think about stupid shit, and do stupid shit. It’s a fucking circus—I’ve been here three days and I already hate half of them.” He lets out a frustrated breath. “So trust me when I tell you that you’re genuinely the most interesting person I’ve ever met.
“You have this, like, light that—I don’t really know how to describe it, but you… you care about things, you know? And when you talk about them and you get all excited, it’s—It’s captivating, like, you just make everyone around you happier.”
Garrett swallows, looking out through the railing of the dock at the waves ebbing and flowing along the shore.
“Growing up, I always had this thing where I would just get so in my head about stuff. With school and hockey, there was just all this pressure and my dad was… Well, he was strict. Everyone had all these expectations for me—It wasn’t enough to try or be good enough, I had to be perfect. And I cared about those expectations, about doing everything I could to be perfect. I thought I did, at least—,”
You watch intently as Garrett sucks in a shaky breath. The air around you both feel fragile, like there’s something important growing between the two of you and if either of you treat it with anything less than delicate vulnerability, it’ll shatter into a million pieces.
“I used to think that’s what caring was,” Garrett lets his eyes fall to look into your own and, for a moment, you just look at each other. “That you don’t like things, or do them, because you enjoy them, but because they make you important. And if things weren’t important, they didn’t matter—If I wasn’t important, I didn’t matter.”
Your face crumples at Garrett’s words, your already unstable emotions causing you to start tearing up again, but you try to stay composed for Garrett’s sake.
He lets out a heavy sigh. “What I’m trying to say is, you made me realize that I was wrong about that. You talk about things, and you get so excited, and you just make them feel like they matter—You make people feel like they matter.
“I… I like being around you. I like listening to you talk and hearing the way your brain works. I think you’re funny, and interesting, and clever, and hopeful—And I don’t think that Joe should be allowed to convince you that you aren’t.”
Around you, the air fills with the sound of chirping crickets. Somewhere in the Villa, the other Islanders are getting ready for bed, unpacking the dramatic revelations from Movie Night and breaking out into petty arguments over the bathroom sinks. But right here, on the dock with Garrett, this moment is just yours.
Garrett clears his throat, the tips of his ears turning a soft shade of pink as he breaks eye contact. “Sorry. That was probably—,”
“Perfect,” you say softly. “It was perfect. Thank you.”
“Yeah?” Something close to pride fills his tone. One of his arms drops to release you from his embrace, but the other stays wrapped over your shoulders.
“Yeah.” Your smile is small, but it’s there. “You’re really nice, Garrett.”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “I’m really not.”
You tuck yourself closer into the gap between his arm and side
“Well, you’re nice to me. Am I special or something?” You joke softly.
“Yeah.” His eyes darken, his voice a quiet murmur that holds the weight of more than what he’s saying. “You are.”
His honesty throws you off and you have to look away to collect yourself.
“Oh.” You change the subject hastily. “I forgot to rub my win in your face today.”
“What?” Garrett’s lips lift slightly into a confused smile.
“Our rematch yesterday. I beat you.”
Garrett’s mouth drops open in shock. “No, you did not—,”
“Yes, I did!” You sit up on your calves to argue with him. “I hit the ball back to you before Sean read out his text and you missed it.”
“Yeah, because Sean—,”
“I beat you.” You tell him stubbornly.
Garrett stares at you for a moment before shaking his head in disbelief. “I’ve created a monster. But fine, Marty Supreme. You won.”
Your victorious grin drops immediately. “No.”
“Oh?” Garrett’s face lights up mischievously.
“You are not calling me that. I am not about to let that be a nickname for me,” you point an accusing finger at him.
“I don’t know, Marty… I think I am gonna call you that, actually,” Garrett grins.
The moment gets interrupted by the muffled sound of Garrett’s phone chiming with a text.
He groans, pulling the device from his pocket. “Oh, fuck off. What now?”
He opens it to look down at the notification and you peer over his chest to read the screen as well.
‘Islanders, get ready for tomorrow night because it’s time for the first recoupling! #ShakeItUp #What’sTheTwist’
please don't copy, repost, or feed my work into ai, thanks!
virgin reader x dc boys but the reader usually acts very cocky like they've had sex before something idk...🥲🥲 Love your fics btw!!
No Rush
In which... they find out you're a virgin
Characters: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne
Contents: virgin!reader, fluff, suggestive themes, reader is insecure about their virginity, established relationships (except dick), gn!reader, virgin!tim drake
a/n: sorry this took a bit! but i loved this request🤍 I wasn't sure how suggestive you wanted this to be so I kept it fluff, hope you enjoy🫶🏻
Dick Grayson
Finds out because every time you're close to fucking, you have a reason to not go there.
Of course, he respects it every time, but it doesn't stop him from feeling insecure. Was it something he did or said? Are you just not that into him?
You're not together, so it's not like he's entitled to ask you about it, right?
One night, after you get back to your apartment, he kisses you.
But not like he usually did after a night out with friends, not soft and comfortable. His kisses are deeper than usual, almost impatient. He presses you against the apartment door, your face cupped in his hands. His thumb runs up and down your cheek. You pull away for air, but he only presses closer.
“Can I ask you something?” His voice is low and rough.
“Uh, sure?”
It takes him a moment. “Have I done something wrong?”
Now you're even more confused. He's still holding you, but not as close anymore.
“Look, I don't know if I can ask, but why are you pulling away every time? You know, when we get close? It's fine. I just wanna know why. If I messed up somewhere?” Was it the alcohol speaking? Probably. “It´s not like you haven't done it before, right? Like, is it me?” You tense in his arms and he stops, eyes widening.
Your usual confidence is gone. You try to stammer out a good answer or reason but you can't think of anything.
“Oh.” He backs off a bit.
You can't bring yourself to meet his eyes. Right now it would be great to have some sort of superpower that lets you melt through your door or something.
“Okay.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Wasn´t expecting that.” He tries to meet your eyes again. “But you know you never have to pretend with me, right?”
“My god, this is humiliating.” You still can't look at him. “It´s just so annoying how everyone makes it out to be such a big thing. That just made me nervous and this is so, so stupid and embarrassing.”
“Doesn´t have to be a big thing if you don't want it to be.” He says and steps in closer again. "I'm also okay with just kissing. You're a great kisser, have I told you that?”
You groan at his flirting. “Yes you have.”
Jason Todd
He already knows.
He found out pretty early on in your relationship. The way you froze when he touched you too intimately, how you shut down momentarily to overthink or the times you pretended to know what you were doing, even if you didn't, made it obvious.
He didn't want to out you, so he just went along.
Instead, Jason waited for you to initiate more intimate moments, telling you that things don't need to be rushed.
“I´m not rushing?” was your answer to that.
“Didn´t say you were, doll.”
But recently, everything slowed down even more.
You noticed and it took a lot to not panic or overthink or convince yourself he lost interest.
It was the beginning of the weekend, a warm night, and you decided to invite him over. Not sure what to do or to say, but you hoped you would figure it out before he was at your door.
The universe is a cruel bitch because two seconds after thinking that, the doorbell rings.
You can't stop fiddling the empty glass in your hand. The two of you sit on the couch, the window wide open, the noise outside filling the quiet room with life.
“So,” he begins, “you wanted to talk?”
You set the glass down. “Yes. Right.” you turn to him, one of his arms resting on the cushions behind your shoulders. “So, we've been dating for a bit now and I don't know how to put this but-”
“You´re not breaking up with me, are you?”
“No?”
“Good.” He gestured to you to go on.
You clear your throat. “So, as I was saying, we've been dating for a while and I kinda expected to, you know, have sex by now. But we aren't and I don't know why?”
He sighs. “I was giving you space, a way out.”
“But why? I'm ready, I don't need space from you?”
“You don't seem like you are.”
“And why didn't you just ask me?” A rush of anger comes over you but was stopped when Jason spoke again.
“Baby, if you freeze up when I touch you, I'm going to stop.”
“It´s not that I don't want your touch,” you say, face flushed and hands fidgeting. “I´m just, you know, nervous. I've never done it before.” The last words are more a quiet stammer than anything.
You hide your face but he just scoots closer to you. "I know." He opens his arms. "C'mere."
Tim Drake
It's complicated.
Under different circumstances, he would have figured it out sooner, but he had other stuff to think about.
Like, not letting you find out how inexperienced he was himself.
Your relationship was still new, but cute and comfortable. But it did lack a certain something. It didn't help that both of you tried desperately to convince the other how experienced you really were.
And it also definitely didn´t help that every time you two get close to fucking, both of you get flustered and have an excuse why right now might not the be the best time, either.
And every time, neither of you noticed the other being just as flustered and nervous.
So, after finally finding the perfect date, preparing yourself mentally and him having researched all the things that might be useful for tonight, you find yourself on his bed. Still dressed, face hot. Tim sits down next to you, his knee touching yours.
“How do you want to do this?” he asks.
You avoid looking at him. “I don't know, I thought you might want to take the lead?”
His hands are folded in his lap. “Well I didn't want to assume.”
“Right.”
"Yeah, right.” There is a long pause. “So hypothetically.”
“Hypothetically?” You look at him, his gaze fixes on the celing.
“Yes, hypothetically. If someone, let's say, has never done this before, what would you tell them?” His gaze falls to his lap.
“Um,” you swallow, confused about where this might lead. Did he know? “That´s a weird question. I don't know, I think I would tell them it's okay?”
His eyes meet yours, only for a second before looking away again. “Cool. Good. I mean that's a good answer.”
“Why?” you sound hesitant.
“So hypothetically. What if that person is me?”
Your eyes grow wide, mouth opening but not getting a single word out. So you just nod. But that seems to send the wrong signal, because Tim shifts and starts apologizing.
“Sorry, I should have told you sooner. But you seem so confident and I just wanted to do good for you. I have a really fucked up search history now.”
You intervene before he can continue. “Okay, so first off, me too. But also, what the hell did you google?”
“You too?” His shoulders visibly relax and he exhales loudly. “I´ve been stressing for weeks.”
“Well, maybe we can just figure it out together?” You smile at him and move closer. He's sitting at the edge of the bed, feet touching the ground so you climb over his lap, knees on both sides of his thighs. “We can start with this.” You kiss him and he melts into it.
Bruce Wayne
He'd find out because you tell him.
Dating someone formerly known as a playboy billionaire was stressful enough. A lot of paparazzi, a lot of unwanted attention.
You knew that going into the relationship.
But even more stressful was having an embarrassing secret to hide.
Sure, he had been surprisingly accepting of going slow, but how long will he stay patient?
All of this stress was going to make you go gray. So in conclusion: you had to tell him.
You waited for him to get home, today was one of those rare days when he was actually off duty.
“Can we have a conversation?” you ask as you retreat back to his bedroom.
His brow moves up. “A conversation? This sounds serious.”
“It is, just, let's get to your room first.” You don't say anything until the bedroom door is closed behind you.
You sit down on the bed bench. He observes your posture dropping, all confidence and grace gone. He decides to sit next to you, an arm around your waist and the other on your knee, stroking it comfortingly.
“What is it?”
“It's stupid, and embarrassing. And I'm scared that you might not want me after.” You're just rambling at this point. “And I don't want you to not want me because I really like you. Like really, really like you.” Your voice is shaking at the last few words.
“Bad enough to make you cry, huh.” He pulls you closer to him. “I can guarantee you it takes a lot to scare me off. Tell me, what's wrong.”
His voice is soothing and deep.
“I´m what's wrong.” Your face is buried in his shoulder.
Bruce doesn't say anything, there is only a reassuring hum against your ears.
“I don't want to take things slow. I just don't know what I'm doing. And you would know and then realize I was just pretending.” Your sobbing gets louder and his hand finds your hair, letting his hand caress it carefully.
“You don't have to know.” His expression is soft and warm. “We can figure it out together what you like. Besides,” a small smile appears, “I'm here too.” He kisses the top of your head. “I'm happy you're by my side. Also, I definitely expected something worse.”
You look up at that. "Something worse?”
“You made it seem very serious,” he laughs quietly.
You wipe away the tears in your eyes. “Can you show me now?"
Bruce lets out a surprised huff, then lifts you onto the bed. “If that's what you want.”
Zuko was leaning back against the headboard with a breathless groan, leaving his lips as your fingers threaded through his messy black long hair, your fingers tugging at the strands gently. His attention never strayed from your pretty face, completely focusing on you and on the moment. You were straddling him, sinking down slowly onto his throbbing length with shaky breaths.
You were already on the verge of being overwhelmed, but Zuko's hands shot up from your thighs to your hips, halting you in your movements, causing a shudder to emit from your lips. "Zuko?" you whispered, blinking at him, confused.
"Don't move," he whispers into your ear. "Let me feel all of you." His words alone made your walls tighten around his length immensely, his head dropping to your neck, feeling his cock.
He tilted his head, but his cock twitching inside you made it really hard to focus much on what he was saying. "Fuck," he moans into your neck, almost bordering on a whimper, Zuko's arms circle around your body, one hand slides up your spine, pulling you flush against him until your chest presses to his. Zuko shakily breaths, "Stay still."
Your breath hitched, body trembling as his length pulsed inside you. "W-What? But-"
"Shh." He kissed the corner of your mouth slowly while holding you perfectly still. You don't think you could do this, you're already so overstimulated as it is.
The stillness was maddening. His cock throbbed inside you with every heartbeat, the stretch so deep and constant it had your body trembling from the effort of holding still. Your nails dug into his shoulders. "Feels so good.... my pretty wife, missed you so much," Zuko murmurs, "just a little longer... promise."
You whined, trying to roll your hips, but his hand immediately pressed down on your waist, pinning you harder against him. "No," he said firmly, and the deep sound of his voice made your body heat up further.
The minutes dragged, your body shivering from the overwhelming sensation of being filled and denied movement. Zuko kissed along your jaw. "You're shaking," he murmured, nipping lightly at your ear. "So needy."
You whimpered his name, and he finally pulled back enough to look at you, his eyes scanning every inch of your trembling body. "Hold out a little longer," he promised, hands gripping your hips tightly. "And then I'll let you fall apart as much as you want."
Your thighs trembled from holding yourself still, his cock throbbing inside you with every pulse of blood rushing through your veins. The ache was unbearable, and every breath made you whine softly into his chest.
"Zuko... I can't," you whispered with your voice cracking. "Please." You broke with a strained moan of his name, his cock deep inside you, clenching violently around him as your orgasm ripped through you, making your body shake in his lap. The wet sound of your release coating him only spurred him on, making his thrusts sharper.
"Fuck, that's it," he groaned, hips slamming into yours one last time as he spilled hot inside you, grip bruising on your hips. He buried his face in your neck, muffling a rough moan as his cock pulsed, filling you to the brim.
Summary: Dean and Garrett recount Logan and reader’s night for them over breakfast.
Warnings: established relationship, mentions of sex, mock moaning???, Dean and Garrett being assholes, Tucker being an innocent bystander, loud reader.
A/N: Little blurb I thought up to tie y’all over until I finally get my next works out. Sorry it’s taking so long, I’ve got major writers block. And I just finished The Pitt and I’m obsessed with Garren Howell and Dennis Whitaker.
“There they are!” Dean exclaims, his signature mischievous smirk spread wide and smug across his face.
Him and Garrett are sat at the kitchen table in the Hockey House, both shirtless and in sweatpants that hung way too low on their waist for your liking. Tucker was already dressed for the day and busy making breakfast for the house.
You and Logan continued your way into the kitchen, both still in your pyjamas and hands intertwined, now slightly more cautious after Deans comment.
“Some night you guys had.” He added.
“Dude-” Tucker tried to silence the inevitable douchey statement Dean was going to make, ever the peace keeper.
“What?” You asked, your face starting to burn with embarrassment.
“What the fuck are you talking about man?” Logan quipped, already fed up with his roommates antics.
Garrett and Dean shared a knowing look, devilish smirks spreading across their lips like wildfire.
“Y’know, your night last night? Must’ve been fun.” Garrett added.
You and Logan looked at each other in immense confusion before looking back at the two at the kitchen table.
“Care to elaborated?” You retorted bluntly.
“No! You do not want them to-” Tucker attempted to warn you before Dean cut in, banging his fist against the table rhythmically and tilting his head back.
“Oh, Logan! Oh, Logan!” He mimicked your moans in a dramatically high pitched voice.
“Don’t stop! Don’t stop!” Garrett joined in in mocking your cries of pleasure from the previous night.
“Oh my god-” you nearly shouted, burying your face in your hands and turning to hid in Logan’s chest.
“Seriously guys? Don’t be an asshole.” Logan snapped.
“Dude, your girl if fuckin’ loud.” Garrett laughed.
“I’d say be gentle but, clearly she likes being murdered by your-”
“Oh my god!” Your shriek of humiliation cut off Dean’s comment as you practically bolted back up the stairs and into Logan’s room.
“Do you always have to be such a dick?” Logan asked Dean before making his way upstairs to comfort you.
“Hard not to be when yours is keeping the whole campus up.” Dean added under his breath.
“Shut up and eat your fucking pancakes.” Tucker retorted.
Getting your nipples pierced was a last minute decision.
Earlier that day, you went with Allie to get her navel pierced. She was so excited, talking about all the piercings she would love to have but isn’t sure about. Which led to her saying, “You would look absolutely fucking amazing with your nipples pierced. I bet Dean would have a field day with it, too.”
She kept babbling, saying stuff like, “Not that I’m suggesting it for him. Only for yourself, obvi. And me and Han, I know she would agree.”
You laughed it off, saying it was cool but not your thing.
Until you were inside the piercing shop.
The girl at the counter asked what the two of you needed, saying for a piercing it would be around a ten minute wait. Allie told the girl what she wanted, but before she wrote it down you butted in.
“Um, actually—I wanted to get my nipples pierced, can we do that today too?”
The worker responded politely, “of course!” before writing your information down.
Allie whipped her head around to face you as you walked away from the counter, her curls swaying. “Really? I thought you weren’t into the idea…” She squealed, excitement clearly coursing through her body.
You shook your head, hoping she didn’t see through your false confidence when you replied, “I mean, why not? It’s cute.”
When you got home later that day, Dean was already cozying up in your bed. He knew you’d be out with Allie for a while but you’d told him he could be there if he wanted to. You didn’t really think he’d take the offer.
“Oh! Hi,” you mumbled as you walked in the door, your brain hyperaware of your new piercings. You’d been so consumed by the thought of the piercings themselves that you’d forgotten that Dean was going to see them, probably very soon.
You’d also forgotten how sensitive they’d be.
“Hey, baby,” his voice was muffled from being beneath a big pile of your blankets and stuffed animals, “Have fun with Allie?”
The way you paused mindlessly before answering with a soft, “Yeah,” was Dean’s first red flag. The second was how stiff you were standing as you walked around the room, putting your purse away and taking off your shoes.
He sat up, moving the little bunny stuffy he got you for Valentine’s day.
When you finally met his eyes, your guard was up immediately. His bright blue eyes were narrowed and his lips were pressed in a pout. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay. Tell me what happened.”
Laughing, you sat on the empty side of the bed. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Dean rolled onto his stomach, taking up the empty space and revealing his shirtless torso. “You’re acting weird. I want my girlfriend back, please.”
You rolled your eyes, running your hand over his hair soothingly.
“Okay,” you cleared your throat, trying to push down your racing thoughts. What if he hates it? What if he has to pretend to like it? What if—“I have something to tell you.”
His playful smile dropped, worry taking over his features. “Yeah?”
Dragging a hand over your face, you let out a heavy breath. “I got my nipples pierced,” you mumbled against your palm.
There was a beat of silence before Dean said, “What was that?”
“Dean.”
“I really couldn’t hear you, baby,” He laughed, his hands coming up to wrap around your wrists and pull your hands away from your face. “Can you repeat it? Please?”
Groaning, you repeated louder, “I got my nipples pierced.”
There was another silent beat, but Dean’s eyes had an unmistakable fire in them. The corner of his lips quirked up, his eyes dropping to your chest and back up.
“What?”
“I am not repeating myself again, Di Laurentis.”
“No, no. I just—Wow,” he blew out a breath, his chest rising and falling more dramatically than before. “Can I see?”
That’s how you ended up here, with Dean’s hands resting on your hips and his legs open wide for you to stand between. Your shirt was in a pile on the floor, the cool air making your nipples hard and even more of a view for Dean.
“Wow. You look…” he trailed off, his gaze never straying from your tits. His hand reached up, aiming for your new piercings, until you stopped his hand.
“Can’t touch. Y’gotta be careful with ‘em.”
Your boyfriend dragged out a low groan, dropping his head to your stomach—making sure to avoid hitting your sensitive piercings. “You’re already killing me, and now I can’t even touch you? What am I being punished for?”
You scoffed, “You’re not being punished, you big baby. And if you’re expecting me to wait until my piercings are fully healed for you to touch me at all, I’m offended.”
His head snapped up at that, his eyes telling you everything you need to know. That and the very clear boner he’s sporting through his sweats. “I just gotta avoid the tits for a little? That’s all? No surprise piercing down there that I need to know about?”
You shook your head, recognizing the undeniable heat in his voice, “Everything else is still on the table.”
The entire night felt like it was just Dean complimenting you. He said something at every point.
Took your pants off? “Gorgeous.” Came on his fingers? “So fucking hot.” Finished on his face? “Delicious.”
He would not stop.
Even when he was buried to the hilt inside you, while you were squirming from the pleasure and milking his cock dry, he felt like he had to keep praising you. “You’re so pretty, baby. I fucking love—Holy shit—I love your nipples. I love your nipple piercings. So fucking sexy, baby.”
The man literally begged you to go on top. He said he “wanted to have your pretty tits up close and bouncing in his face if he couldn’t even touch them.”
You agreed, expecting to have to take control. Not expecting to have him fucking up into you, hitting you at a new angle that made your back arch and your entire body shake. Your eyes were teary and clamped shut, moans spilling out of your mouth faster than you could feel them coming.
“That feel good, sweetheart?” The cocky bastard asked you with a devilish grin on his face. “Looks like it from down here.”
Your hand cupped over his mouth, your way of telling him to shut up without having to speak. He kissed your palm and grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers through yours.
The new angle you took to reach his mouth made your clit rub against his solid body, adding extra pleasure that made you squeeze around him. “Oh my god. Dean.”
Dean groaned at the sound of your shaky voice gasping his name, the feeling of your tight pussy around him and your nails digging into his biceps bringing him closer to his release.
“I’m close,” his deep voice rasped in your ear, his hands gripping your hips as he continued plowing into you. You threw your head back with your body, Dean’s fingers promptly coming to toy with your clit, working you over the edge.
“Dean—”
“I know, baby. Ride it out f’me,” he cooed, continuing his thrusts until you pushed on his chest to stop him.
You slowly pulled off, careful not to overstimulate your very sensitive cunt. Flopping over on your back, Dean was quick to roll on his side to look at you. He didn’t say anything more, just stared until you turned away in embarrassment.
The color of Garrett’s eyes had always been something of a mystery to you, with their ever-changing shades of green and brown depending on the light. But in the moment, as they gazed up into yours, you thought they looked as dark as the surrounding night.
“—come on, say it,” he urged, almost breathless, his towering frame reclined in the plush leather front seat that was pushed all the way back, as far as it would go.
Track pants shoved down around his knees, he tilted his headful of dark curls back against the headrest so he could watch the soft motion of your tits, nipples teasing the tip of his nose with each grind of your hips.
Enough light was coming through the tinted windows to highlight each perfect curve and line of your semi-bare form—shirt and bra lost long ago to the vehicle’s interior, the material of your skirt bunched up in soft folds around your waist.
You gasped when his grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into the flesh as he helped guide you up and down his cock, the chain around his neck glimmering in the reflected glow.
“Come on, I won’t tell anyone,” he teased with a smug grin so maddeningly handsome, you couldn’t even find it in yourself to be annoyed that he was playing with you—and he was.
That same old cat and mouse.
Grinning like a Cheshire, a few stray dark curls fell into his sweat-glistened forehead as you brushed them away with a tenderness that belied your hesitance to give him what he wanted.
You weren’t going to say it.
Ignoring his plea, you started to ride him faster, greedily chasing your own pleasure in a bid to finish before him, letting out a few soft whimpers for good measure because you knew it would drive him to the brink of reason.
Garrett liked it when you talked dirty.
“Mmm, your cock feels so good,” you purred. “You’re making me so wet.”
Thick thighs flexing beneath you, he grunted under his breath as he started to thrust up into you harder, gritting his teeth, strong jaw ticking with determination as he ground his hips into the seat.
Sticking out his tongue to tease one of your nipples, he bent to suck it into his mouth, flicking and swirling over the firm bud, causing you to gasp at the pleasurable sensation.
“Garrett—” you whined. “You’re gonna make me cum.”
Bracing a palm on the cool glass of the window for balance, your fingertips left trails in the steam that hid the two of you away in your own secret world, safe from the eyes of passersby.
“Fuck—baby” he whimpered, the soft sound muffled against your skin.
Garrett may have seemed invincible to his opponents on the ice, but with his cock buried deep inside your pussy, he was always reduced to a begging, writhing mess as soon as he started to come undone.
Only you had that power over him.
When you’d first met Garrett through a mutual friend, there’d been an instant attraction between you that was undeniable. Electric. An irresistible pull that couldn’t be ignored.
But after weeks of flirtation and dancing around the inevitable, you had decided to stay friends to avoid any complications. Neither of you had time for a relationship.
Of course, you could still have fun.
It hadn’t been your intention to end your evening tangled up with him in his jeep, but when he’d offered you a lift home from Malone’s, you had eagerly accepted. Since neither of you were drinking and you needed to get up early for work the next morning, it had made perfect sense to leave with your friend.
To anyone else, a ride home would have seemed a simple, chivalrous proposal. But lately when it came to you and Garrett, very little between you was innocent.
As he’d navigated the quiet streets en route to your place, you’d stolen more than one yearning glance at his handsome profile, backlit by the glow of the passing streetlights. When he’d silently reached over to let a hand rest on your thigh at a stoplight, that had been your point of no return.
Before you knew it, he was pulling off onto a dead-end street to park in some deserted lot, and you were tearing off each other’s clothing with a need so frantic that you hadn’t even bothered to retreat to the back seat.
“God, you feel so good,” he groaned, kiss swollen lips parted in breathless need. “Say it, baby. Please, I’m so close.”
You smiled, coy yet sweet. “What? That I’m yours? Is that what you want to hear?”
With a growl that rumbled through his chest, he searched out your lips to capture them in a heated kiss before throwing his head back against the headrest, breathless. “Yeah, that’s it. Say you’re mine.”
You braced your hands on his muscular shoulders as you rocked against him, relishing in the friction created by the trimmed hair at his base as it rubbed against your clit with each roll of your hips.
The last few times you’d hooked up it had been the same game, him teasing you to try and make you say you were his. You imagined it was just a silly power play on his part, a way to prove he still had the upper hand in your situation. And even though you always ended up going along with it bed, nothing ever changed in real life. You were never going to admit you actually wanted him in that way.
Even though you did.
Throwing your head back as your pleasure started to mount, you let out a soft moan of his name. In response, he brought a hand down between your bodies to gently massage your clit with his fingertips while running the tip of his tongue along the column of your throat, tasting the sweat off your skin. “That’s it. Cum for me.”
He groaned when he felt you clench tighter around his cock as the steady strum of his fingers brought to your peak.
“C’mon, give it to me,” he mumbled against your skin, a plea that your body was helpless but to obey. You gripped him tight, nails digging into his flesh as the pleasure washed over you in waves.
“Holy shit—” he cursed as he came moments later, pumping his release inside you with a sigh of relief as you continued to ride out your high, bouncing in his lap.
“Oh god—I love you.” You crashed your lips against his in a frenzy of overwhelming bliss. But a few seconds later, you pulled back abruptly as the shock of what you’d said finally registered in your still fuzzy post-orgasm brain.
“Yeah?” Garrett’s eyes flicked up to yours. That hadn’t been what he’d expected to hear you say. Those words weren’t a part of your game, or at least they hadn’t been up to that point.
Your heaving, sweat-glistened chest pressed against his as you stayed perched in his lap, taking a moment to catch your breath. Your heart was racing but not only from the physical exertion.
What the hell had you just done?
Garrett reached up to cup your chin and smoothed the skin of your cheek with his thumb as he guided you to tilt your head down to meet his lips with your own.
As he kissed you, he ran a hand down over your back to squeeze the swell of your ass, but the warmth of his touch was no match for the chill that traveled down your spine as the last words you’d uttered continued to echo in the otherwise silent jeep.
I love you.
I love you?
Fuck.
You pulled back and brought a hand up to your mouth, as if the action could somehow push the errant words back inside where they belonged.
“I…I don’t know why I said that,” you struggled to explain. “I felt so good—it just came out.”
You moved to get off his lap to get dressed, but Garrett held you in place. His grip on you was firm and unyielding but his eyes were gentle as they met your fretful gaze.
“It’s this stupid game,” you said, eyes brimming with hot tears of embarrassment. “Making me say I’m yours—”
“Hey, stop. Look at me.” He rubbed a hand along the outside of your thigh in an attempt at a comforting gesture, then glanced up at you with a guarded expression. “Did you mean it?”
When you met his eyes, they were vulnerable and soft, still as beautiful as ever in the near dark. In that moment you knew that you loved him, and whether or not he loved you back didn’t change a thing.
You considered your words for a moment before speaking, biting your lip, then finally deciding to be brave. There was no point in lying anymore, not now that you’d already blurted out the truth.
“Yeah,” you whispered. “I guess I did mean it. But it’s ok, I know you don’t do relationships or feel the same way. We’re just friends who have fun together sometimes and that’s fine—”
“Hey,” he cut you off, smiling as he shook his head. “If you’d stop talking for a second, I’d tell you that I love you, too.”
“You do?” You stared at him in wide-eyed surprise, brows raised in disbelief. But before you could say anything else he leaned in for a kiss.
And not just a regular kiss—it felt like he was pouring all of his affection into each slow press of his lips. Letting you know without a doubt that you were his.
“Why do you think I’ve been asking you to say you were mine?” he asked, pulling back to smile at you in a way that almost seemed uncharacteristically shy. “I was kind of hoping you’d get the hint.”
And with that all of your resistance finally melted away, because you knew from that point forward there would be no more cat and mouse. No more games.
—well, except for the good kind, where you’d both win in the end.
…but that’s a whole other story ;)
thank you for reading!! as always i appreciate your reblogs and comments so much 🤍🫶 xoxo
nsfw tw 𝜗ৎ — Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Aged up Damian Wayne. / English isn’t my first language, I use grammar checkers to translate. Some stuff might sound weird, sorry!
BRUCE WAYNE ✸
For Bruce Wayne, touching the sky with his hands is the same as having you on your knees in front of him. He’s not the type who goes for fast or messy; he wraps his fist firmly around your hair and lets you take all the time you need. He loves feeling your hot tongue tracing every vein of his cock with pure devotion, like you’ve got all the time in the world and want to spend every second of it worshipping him.
They say the eyes are the window to the soul, and Bruce would love to see yours—huge and glassy, spilling tears because he’s too big and you’re not sure you can take it all. His deep, rough voice would brush against your ear as he murmurs: “Fuck… such a good girl. Look at you, so pretty on your knees, lips stretched around my cock like you were made for this. Taking me so deep… so fucking well. My perfect, obedient girl. That’s it… just like that.”
”
DICK GRAYSON ✸
Dick Grayson learned a ton of things from his dad Bruce, but patience was never on that long list. He’s way too needy, way too desperate. He was already rock hard just from seeing you on your knees in front of him, but the second your lips brushed the tip, he completely lost it.
Still, he doesn’t want to be invasive or force you. But once you take him into your mouth and start actually sucking, the feeling hits him so hard that his hips move on their own, thrusting forward with the clear intention of making you take him all the way to the base. He moans and bites down on his lower lip in a way that’s so perfect, so broken, that it’s easy for you to start dripping like a broken faucet onto the floor of his apartment.
“Fuck, baby…” His voice comes out in little whimpers, no attempt to hold anything back. Dick is loud—shamelessly loud. “Fuck—fuck, baby… your mouth feels so fucking good. I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna fill that pretty little throat of yours until it’s overflowing. God, I love you so much… don’t you dare stop. Keep sucking me just like that—deeper, yeah, just like that… take every drop.”
JASON TODD ✸
Jason is obsessed with watching your lips wrapped around his cock. Not soft and gentle… that doesn’t suit him at all. If you decided to suck him off, it means you’re gonna let him fuck your damn face until you’re crying because it’s too much and you can’t take it anymore.
He grabs your head with both hands and pushes you down until the tip hits the back of your throat. He’s not forcing you into anything; he knows perfectly well that you love it like this, and he just goes along with your intense likes because he’s such an excellent boyfriend, obviously. He loves the feeling of stuffing your mouth completely full, of turning you into a wreck of spit, tears and desperate gasps.
“Come on, princess. You told me you could take it.” He teases, wearing that shit-eating grin. “And now look at you… choking on a real cock like a pathetic little thing. Such a good girl, aren’t you? So fucking good that you can’t even deepthroat without gagging and tearing up. You disappoint me. I expected more from my pretty girl. But it doesn’t matter. Keep trying. You still look so goddamn pretty with your lips stretched around me, drooling and struggling.”
TIM DRAKE ✸
I feel like Tim enjoys eating you out way more than letting you suck him off. Not that he doesn’t love it when you do it, of course he does, but he admits, a little embarrassed, that what really drives him crazy is when you suck his cock and eat his ass at the same time, until he ends up sitting on your face.
The way your tongue fucks his tight hole while you pump his cock at full speed with both hands makes him see stars. That wet, hot sound of your tongue curling against his prostate is enough to bring tears of pure pleasure to his eyes. He wants to bury himself deeper into your mouth, gripping the pillows with brutal force just so he doesn’t lose his balance.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” he moans, biting down on his lower lip, eyes so glassy he can barely see through the tears. “Yes, yes, just like that, baby—don’t you dare stop. God, sweetheart, your tongue is a goddamn miracle, so wet and filthy and perfect. You’re gonna make me lose it—oh my God, I’m so close, I’m gonna fucking cum… ah—ah—ah—“
DAMIAN WAYNE ✸
Damian isn’t some pathetic, desperate guy. On the contrary, he’s a die-hard fanatic of pure, absolute devotion—the kind where he’s the master and you’re there solely to serve him. He’s the type who’d tie your hands behind your back with a tie or a silk scarf, leaving only your mouth at his complete disposal.
He’d let you braid your hair long just so he could pull it forward and back, controlling the exact rhythm with which he wants you to obey. He’s not a sadist: he lets you take him all the way to the back of your throat, but he pulls back the second he notices you’re truly choking and can’t take any more.
“That’s how I like it, beloved,” he murmurs softly near your ear. “Take me deeper. Make me feel how good you are at serving me, and I’ll give you exactly what a perfect little servant deserves. But if you fail me…You won’t sit for a week. I’ll make sure every mark I leave burns until you’re sobbing and begging me to stop.”
batfam x daddy's girl batsis! reader
(also wally west x reader bc we love him)
"c'mon bruce, this is SO unfair!"
bruce wayne didn't do favourites. he tried his best to make that very known amongst the family... but having 5 boys and 2 girls made it a bit hard. especially since they were much nicer to him than his sons.
and with that meant that you and cass got whatever you wanted! which brings us to now.
dick shoved his phone in bruce's face with furrowed brows and a pout. on the screen was a picture of you and wally in swimsuits laying on a beach in hawaii, your arms wrapped around his neck as you both smiled into the camera. very much not the training reserve you said you were going to.
"you'd NEVER let me go on a romantic vacation with kori!" he argued. bruce just sighed, pushing the device away from his face. "your sister isn't on vacation, she's training with wally. she deserves a break."
dick just crossed his arms. "that's bull and you know it! you literally let her use the bat-copter! i'm not even allowed to touch the BATMOBILE!" "well, that's because you crashed the batmobile last time. your sister is always very safe on the helicopter."
jason, from the other side of the room, looked at bruce in disbelief. "SHE CRASHED MY MOTORCYCLE!" "she merely forgot to put it in park, she had a long night. sprained her wrist." before the boys could retort, bruce's phone started ringing your favourite song. of course he had a custom ringtone for you.
he pressed accept, holding his phone up to his ear with a gentle smile. "hi sweetheart, did you need something? oh, of course you can use my card. sushi? sounds delicious. well, have fun, okay? see you tomorrow. bye baby, i love you. stay safe."
as soon as he hung up, his two sons deadpanned at him. he just rose a brow in response. "...what?"
"this is fucking ridiculous.
meanwhile...
"you're so fucking cute wally" you cooed at your boyfriend's sleepy face, ginger hair pointing every which way. you were both still in your swimsuits, cuddling in the king sized bed at the beach side house your dad had rented specifically for you.
wally grinned up at you, kissing your jawline. "and you're so pretty, baby... but i think your brothers might kill me when we get back."
SUMMARY A freak accident during a challenge may not be the worst thing in the world if it means you get all of Garrett’s attention.
CONTENT love island au, fem reader, use of pet names (baby), descriptions of injury, reader sits in Garrett's lap and wears his clothes, reader's kinda a loser but it turns Garrett on, a tiny bit suggestive, Dean yet again being used as entertainment lol, barely edited
A/N this is inspired by these requests, but I changed it a little bit and I was already almost done writing it when I got the second request (if that situation specifically is something people wanna see I can write it in another part, but I think it would be similar to this haha) anyway please enjoy!
love island masterlist
“You know, if you keep pouting that hard, your face is gonna get stuck like that.”
Garrett doesn’t take his eyes off the gauze wrapped around your calves.
“I’m not pouting.”
“You’re definitely pouting.” Dean chimes in. Garrett’s head snaps up with a glare and Dean holds his hands up quickly, having enough sense to have already started backing away. “Right. Sorry. Going.”
Garrett grumbles something under his breath and you flick him lightly on the forehead. “Don’t be mean.”
“There is more of your skin on the pool deck than on the back of your legs, I’ll be as mean as I want.” His jaw clenches, one of the muscles ticking in annoyance.
“Even to me?” You bat your lashes at him teasingly.
Garrett softens, cupping your cheek like you’re something fragile, his thumb stroking the delicate skin under your eye.
“I’m still deciding.”
“Hey!” Your mouth drops open in shock. “You’re not allowed to be mean to me, I almost died today.”
At the reminder that your legs currently look like a 3rd grader’s paper mache project, Garrett’s eyes darken and the small smile he was wearing drops as his hand falls from your face.
Your face falters in confusion. “What?”
“Don’t say shit like that,” he chides you softly, his body hovering over yours awkwardly, like he’s unsure where to touch you without hurting you more. “It’s not funny.”
Truthfully, you thought it had been a little funny, but you wisely keep that to yourself.
It had all started with a simple challenge where you were all given a stack of cards that had various quotes said by different Islanders during your time in the Villa. Each Islander would read a quote out loud before guessing which person said it by pushing them into the pool.
Unfortunately for you, during Paul’s turn, he picked you as the Islander who had said his quote—you hadn’t—and, before you even had a chance to process it, he was pushing you into the pool. The problem was that, as you had not been expecting to be pushed into the pool, you had not been standing remotely close enough to the edge.
While the top half of your body hit the water just fine, your calves hit the lip of the pool instead, scraping painfully against it as you fell in—essentially skinning the back of your calves in the process.
The challenge came to a swift halt after that as the on-site medic tended to your injuries. Luckily it was nothing more than a couple large scrapes and, since you’d already had your turn and most of your quotes had already been read, production decided to continue the challenge without you and allowed you to go back to the bedroom to rest.
The only person left out of this decision—and deeply offended by that fact—was Garrett, who production realized was pointless to argue against, and just let him leave with you after he refused to go back to the challenge.
While you’ve been keeping a pretty positive attitude about the whole thing, laughing about it with everyone when they came to check on you after the challenge was over, Garrett did not share the sentiment, growling like a guard dog at anyone he deemed too disruptive—(Paul had smartly made himself scarce.)
Your jovial demeanor drops at Garrett’s words and you frown slightly, sitting up before he can stop you and crawling into his lap.
“Wait—Baby—Please—,” Garrett panics, his hands gripping your body in a confusing battle of pushing you away and also pulling you closer as he tries to stop you from putting any weight on your calves.
You ignore him, settling in his lap and cupping his jaw with your hands apologetically. “I’m sorry,” you say quietly.
Garrett melts beneath you, turning his head to press a kiss into your palm. His lips brush against your skin, “Don’t be sorry, I know you’re trying to make me feel better. I just… I didn’t like watching you get hurt.”
“I mean, it would be kinda concerning if you did—,” You clamp your mouth shut when Garrett raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Sorry. No more jokes, promise.”
Garrett lets out a thin sigh that sounds suspiciously like he’s holding back a laugh. “Somehow, I seriously doubt that.”
You stick your tongue out. “I can’t help that I’m a natural born comedian, Garrett.”
“Mmm.” He lets out a teasing hum.
“I am!”
Garrett’s hand travels up to the back of your neck, massaging the muscles as a way to coax you into lying down against him. “Agree to disagree, baby.”
You bite down lightly on his bare shoulder in protest—which Garrett is far too used to at this point—but let the empty bedroom fall into silence as Garrett shifts to get comfortable against the headboard of your bed. His hand falls to your back, tracing up and down your spin in large circles.
“Does it hurt?” He asks softly.
You freeze. “...No.”
“Baby.”
“A little.” You concede.
“Where?”
“Everywhere,” you pout. “It’s not awful, it just… burns.”
“‘M sorry,” he coos, pressing gentle kisses along the skin of your neck that’s peeking out of the hoodie you’re wearing—which is definitely his. “Is there anything that’ll make you feel better?”
You let out a shy noise, craning your neck to give him more access. “I mean, this feels nice.”
“Yeah?” Garrett’s lips move to explore the new skin, his hands curling under the hem of your sweatshirt to continue caressing your bare back. “How ‘bout I keep doing this and you finish telling me about that game you were talking about this morning.”
You shiver when he sucks softly at the spot just under your ear. “You’ll distract me.”
“Mm, I think you can get through it,” Garrett says in that somewhat condescending tone that makes your thighs clench.
It takes the squeeze of his hands against your hips to spur you into speaking and you pick up where you had left off earlier in the day when you were explaining the convoluted lore of the Five Nights at Freddy’s franchise to Garrett. The feeling of his lips on your neck causes you to lose your train of thought a couple times, but Garrett prompts you back into it with a verbal reminder to keep talking or another squeeze of your hips. Eventually, he gets genuinely interested enough in what you’re saying that he gets distracted, pulling back in confusion to ask multiple questions as you keep explaining, the pain in your legs now the furthest thing from your mind.
You keep talking until the rest of the Islanders come into the bedroom, everyone saying their ‘goodnight’s as the lights turn off and Garrett pulls the blankets over you both.
“Oh,” you lift your head up suddenly. “I forgot to tell you about—,”
Garrett’s large hand covers your mouth, muffling the rest of your sentence. “Tomorrow. I need sleep to prepare myself for how whiny you’re going to be in the morning when I have to disinfect your cuts.”
You pull his hand away with a raised brow.
“I thought you said you like when I’m whiny.”
“...Go to bed.”
BONUS
“Ow, ow, ow—!”
“I’m not even pressing that hard—!”
“Yes, you are!” You whine, your fingers digging into the granite sink of the bathroom as Garrett presses a cotton ball drenched in rubbing alcohol against your wound. “Stop, Garrett, it stings!”
Garrett grits his teeth as you try to kick your leg away from him. “I’m almost done.”
“You said that 30 minutes ago!”
“Baby. It hasn’t even been two minutes since we started.” When he meets your pitiful eyes, Garrett sighs. “Just one more, okay? I promise.”
He stays still until you give a hesitant nod and then lifts the cotton ball back to your leg.
“Wait, wait, wait!” You cry before it touches your skin. “Dean, hold my hand.”
You turn pleadingly to the aforementioned blond, who had been pretending to brush his teeth while he and Allie watched the two of you in amusement.
The toothbrush falls out of his mouth and clinks against the sink. “What? Why do I have to—?”
“Please?”
“Dean, just do it!”
Both your and Allie’s words overlap as Dean continues to object.
“Hold her damn hand, Dean.” Garrett interrupts all of you with a finality that has Dean shuffling his feet over to you begrudgingly.
Unsurprisingly, the picture Allie takes of Garrett crouched down by your leg with a focused expression as you and Dean both wince in pain—you, because Garrett is disinfecting your last cut and Dean, because you’re squeezing his hand hard enough for his fingers to overlap—is posted to the Love Island USA Instagram account as soon as the episode airs.
please don't copy, repost, or feed my work into ai, thanks!
Love Island!Garrett and Reader being the nosiest couple in the Villa
A/N I miss love island bro 😭😭 but here's a little idea I had (loosely inspired by Brinity) I'm actually kinda obsessed with this concept so let me know if you want more of them! also sorry I have been a bit of an #offlinequeen, I will get to answering everything more tomorrow but I just wanted to get this idea posted lol
love island masterlist
“No way.”
The sudden sound of your voice pulls Garrett from his borderline nap as he feels you sit up slightly from where you’re lounging against his side.
He shifts against one of the many fluorescent colored pillows that litters Soul Ties—(Garrett thinks they’re tacky, you think that they are the only thing preserving your modesty to the American public, both of you agree that they are ridiculously easy to nap on)—letting out a questioning hum.
“Okay, don’t look now, but Dean is totally pulling Allie for a chat right now—,”
Garrett turns to look, because last he saw, Allie was having a very boring looking conversation with Sean by the pool and he can only imagine what the guy must be looking like as he watches the newest bombshell in the Villa pull his partner away for a chat, but you’ve already tangled your fingers into his curls, jerking his head back towards you.
“Ah—Hey!” Garrett lightly pinches the muscle of your calf from where it’s thrown over his lap.
“I told you not to look, just—I’ll tell you what’s happening, but don’t be obvious.” Your fingers smooth the slight sting against his scalp absentmindedly, but your eyes stay focused on whatever’s happening over his shoulder. “Okay, act like I’m chatting you up with the sexiest lines you’ve ever heard in your life.”
Garrett snorts lightly. “Yeah, because that’s believable.”
You let your jaw drop in mock offense. “Fine. I guess you don’t want to hear about how Dean’s physically helping pull Allie up from the bean bags right now.”
“No shit.” Garrett’s eyebrows raise slightly in surprise.
“Yes shit,” you confirm excitedly. “He’s, like, fully holding her hand, fingers interlocked and everything. Oh, Sean looks pissed—Stop trying to look!”
“Okay, okay,” Garrett laughs lightly, relaxing back into the cushions as he starts tracing absentminded circles on your ankle bone. “What’s happening now?”
You squint. “They’re still chatting on the lawn—I’m gonna try to read their lips.”
“...You’re gonna—?”
“Shh! Okay, so Dean’s being like, ‘Hey Allie, I was thinking we could explore our connection more’.”
Garrett shakes his head in amusement as you drop your voice an octave to mimic Dean.
You continue, “Allie doesn’t really look impressed.” You pause. “Okay, now Dean is giving her crazy bedroom eyes—He’s like, ‘I just think we could explore our connection with our mouths. Like, my mouth on your mouth. Being all hot and sexy with our mouth connection—’,”
“He is not saying that.”
“Oh yeah? And how would you know?” You look down indignantly.
“‘Being all hot and sexy with our mouth connection’,” he mocks. “I don’t think there is a single guy in the world that has ever said that.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were the lip reader here.”
Garrett laughs. “You’re not even letting me look.”
“Exactly. Now—,”
He watches your face as you follow the two other Islanders with your eyes, the excitement on your features morphing to disappointment as you pout.
“—Ugh, I can’t see them anymore.”
Garrett lets his hand travel up your leg to the dip of your hip—with zero protest from you—playing lightly with the strings of your bikini bottoms. “Well, if I had to guess from the whole ‘mouth connection’ thing, they’re probably just picking up from where they left off last night.”
You still, finally reverting your gaze back to him. “What happened last night?”
“I mean…” Garrett tries to suppress his grin when your eyes narrow. “All I know is that I saw them walking out of the photobooth together last night. And Dean’s not exactly subtle so…”
“And you’re just telling me this now?!” You lightly slap his bare chest.
Garrett’s hand spreads against your hip, his fingers digging possessively into the skin. “Well, I was going to tell you earlier, but then I remembered that you didn’t even finish, like, a third of your water bottle yesterday.”
“Oh, so you’re purposefully withholding gossip from me as punishment because I can be a little forgetful?”
Garrett meets your dramatic gaze with a flat look. “If it makes you drink water, yes.”
“Fine—,” You pick up your water bottle, exaggeratedly going to take a defiant sip.
Your water bottle seems to agree with Garrett though—deciding to also punish you for the fact that you’ve had less than 5 sips of water today—because no sooner had you brought the nozzle to your mouth and squeezed the white plastic than a jet of water suddenly spurts in your face.
A surprised laugh forces itself out of Garrett’s throat, mixing with the sound of your giggles when you can’t help but join in.
“That was the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”
“It was not that funny!”
“You’re laughing!” Garrett points out incredulously before you both dissolve into another fit of giggles.
“Shh, shh, shh,” you try to quiet yourself down, creasing over until your temple is bumping against his shoulder. “Sean is definitely looking at us like we’re freaks right now.”
“Let him.”
“No, because he’s gonna think we’re laughing at him or something,” you try to argue—even though, only moments prior, you had been laughing at him.
Garrett just shakes his head, his tone sickeningly sweet as he stops laughing and looks at you through half-lidded eyes. “C’mere.”
And then with a gentleness not at all necessary for the situation, he cups your face with a large hand, tenderly wiping at the water droplets clinging to your skin. Your expression softens, laughter trickling off into quiet breaths as you still underneath him, letting him continue to trace over every inch of your face with his calloused thumbs.
A small, drowsy smile makes its way onto his face and suddenly all the energy you had just a moment earlier drains. The summer Fiji heat settles like warm honey, pulling you and Garrett back into the quietness of the afternoon. You let out a small sigh when Garrett finally leans down to press a lazy kiss against your lips, fingers tangling in the thick curls at the nap of his neck.
You feel him pull away slowly, your eyes still closed as he presses one, and then two, more lingering kisses to your lips before settling down next to you, his large hand tracing soothing patterns up and down your back.
Distantly, you can hear the sounds of two Islanders chatting as they use the gym equipment, the steady taps of a ping-pong ball bouncing back and forth, hushed whispers between a few of the girls that you’re sure you’ll hear more about when you all get ready for the evening. But that all fades away as you listen to the steady inhale and exhale of Garrett’s breaths. You let out a content hum from where you’re tucked under his chin.
“Don’t think I’m just gonna forget the fact that you didn’t tell me about the Allie and Dean thing.”
You feel Garrett’s chest vibrate with laughter underneath you. “Oh, I know you won’t.”
please don't copy, repost, or feed my work into ai, thanks!
