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total-dxmure · 4 months

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✦ INVISIBLE STRING THEORY →【ELLIE WILLIAMS】→ CHAPTER ONE

pairings: modern!marine ellie x reader

summary: the marines didn’t ruin ellie. ellie ruined ellie. after being medically discharged she feels lost. being sent to live with joel is more of a last ditch effort to save her and less of a fun reunion for the father-daughter duo. jackson is worlds different than chicago, but the fresh air and sprawling countrysides are a welcome reprieve. ellie finds herself finding comfort in more than just the change in scenery though. after losing your girlfriend due to an accident you feel as though you’ll never find love again- but that was before meeting ellie williams. the two of you figure out that you have more in common than just the fact that she and your girlfriend were both marines though. tethered by some invisible string, the two of you meeting has to be fate. who would have known that you were the golden ticket to ellie’s recovery?

warnings: eventual smut! lots of tension building and mutual pining. ellie falls first and hard. small town girl meets a frightening, strong ex marine. TW: talk of panic attacks, ptsd episodes and death. come for the ellie smut and stay for the plot and fluff.

⬶ previous chapter | next chapter ⤅

“The fact that she’s military is the only thing saving her ass right now.”

Ellie kept her head bowed down low, her hands clasped in between her legs as she hunched over in the seat, making herself as small as possible. Her knuckles were bruised and scrapped to hell, the blood already dried and crusted. Most of the blood wasn’t hers, and if she thought about that fact for too long she’d probably have an episode. Either that or she’d throw up all over the sheriff’s office.

“Boss, I really appreciate you calling me instead of booking her. You have to understand that she’s in therapy and is on a shit ton of medications. Is the guy gonna press charges. . . ?” Hearing her best friend kiss up to his boss on her behalf had the vein in her forehead twitching.

“Technically the boy was shoplifting, so I doubt he’s gonna go forward with any sort’a legal action. I know she was trying to help, but she used excessive force. Beat the poor kid black and blue. . . I mean-” The officer lowered his voice, and Ellie could hear Jesse’s chair creak as he leaned forward. “His damn tooth was knocked out.” The sheriff whispered.

She closed her eyes tight, running a shaky hand over her face. She should own up to all of this and apologize. This was her fault, so why. . . why was she just sitting there? It was like she was glued to the chair, unable to move her head up. She couldn’t look Jesse in the eye. She was ashamed of herself.

Because she smelled like greasy, unwashed hair and cigarettes, was wearing the same pair of jeans she’d worn yesterday when he invited her over to his and Dina’s for dinner, and now he was having to pick her up at the police station for starting a fight.

A pack of beer. That’s what she’d pummeled the boy over.

He couldn’t have even been her age. He looked freshly legal, and something in her fucked up mind told her that it was okay to hurt him like that. The second that the nice elderly woman behind the counter had started screaming about a man stealing from her, some sort of switch had been flipped in her brain. Loud noises always made her feel anxious, but screaming like that? She couldn’t have stopped the meltdown even if she’d wanted to. So she dropped what she was holding and ran after him. What happened afterwards was. . . well, it was a blur. She squeezed her eyes shut tight and rubbed her temples, trying hard to remember.

Her therapist called them “PTSD episodes”. Random things triggered a breakdown: loud noises, gunshots, screams, flashes of light. . . they were unavoidable. She’d lose total track of time when it happened. One second the door to Ellie’s walk-in closet was closing behind her, plummeting her in darkness, and the next she’d be laying on her back in the middle of her room, balling her eyes out. Living like this was hell, but no matter how many mind-numbing pills she was prescribed, she still found it nearly impossible to function.

She didn’t want to scare her loved ones. When Joel called she just. . . lied. It made her feel dirty. It was wrong and she knew that, but it was better than the alternative. Being a liar was better than being a broken failure.

“Yeah, I’m doing great. My therapist is on to something, I think.”

“Come on, rambo. Let’s get you to bed.” Jesse placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, knowing better than to pat her on the back like he used to.

Ellie knew it hurt him to see her flinch under his touch. She swallowed back bile and stood up, practically having to drag herself out of the officers office. She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t thank him or- or anything.

But then he did that thing. . . he thanked Ellie.

Ellie didn’t give a shit about the military discounts or the cheaper car insurance- she got a nice cushy check from the military every month just for breathing. She didn’t want pity or thanks simply because she didn’t deserve it.

“Thank you for your service, Williams.” The sheriff’s voice reminded her of Joel’s. For some reason that made it hurt even worse.

Still, her muscles tightened, and she worked hard to straighten her posture.

“It was my privilege.” It was a well rehearsed response. It didn’t even sound like her voice when she had said it though, and it scared her.

As she followed Jesse out to his truck, she tried to ascertain whether she was just beginning to disassociate or whether or not this was all just another strange side effect from her meds.

She blinked and suddenly she was already situated in the car, Jesse on the main road to get the both of them back home. He had the radio turned down to just a hum, his sleepy eyes glued to the road in front of him. The clock on his dashboard told her that it wasn’t just “late” anymore, but “morning” now. Ellie sat up suddenly, her heart pounding as she tried to map out exactly how many minutes she had just lost.

“Fuck.” She breathed, pressing her palms against her eyes.

She needed to call her therapist sometime today. She needed. . . She needed a lower dose of medication. There’s no way any of this was normal.

“Have you eaten?” Jesse asked, turning his head to finally look at her.

Ellie wished that he felt inconvenienced by her. Anger would be better than pity, but the look in his eyes was anything but annoyance. Jesse looked like he was close to tears. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, and Ellie felt called to reach her hand out and place it on his shoulder. She wasn’t a very touchy person these days (and it’s not like she was to begin with), but he needed it.

“Not in a couple of hours.” Ellie answered him, letting her fingers dig into the soft fabric of his shirt.

He nodded and cleared his throat, sitting up a little straighter. When Ellie dropped her hand and turned to look out the passenger side window, she could have sworn he lifted his arm to hurriedly wipe at his eyes. She couldn’t be sure though. . . seeing as she was now legally blind in her left eye. The wonky eye and the thin scar that started in the middle of her forehead and ended on her brow bone were the only physical reminders that she had of the explosion.

It seemed so miniscule compared to all of the shit that was going on in her head. She’d much rather have a destroyed body than a brain that didn’t work right anymore.

“How about you sleep in the guest bedroom? Dina’s probably worried sick about the both of us. Let’s. . . let’s spend the day together. Yeah?” It sounded like he was pleading with her.

There was a brief moment of heavy silence. No matter how much of a burden she saw herself as, the thought of going home right now frightened her. Ellie was terrified that she was going to end up all alone in this world, but she couldn’t stop pushing everyone away. It’s almost as if. . . she knew that she was bound to self-destruct at some point. She didn’t want anyone to see her like that.

“She’s going to kill me.” Ellie groaned out, dramatically banging her head against the headrest.

Jesse’s lips twitched up into a smile, but he was quick to try and mask it. “Nah. Dina? Mad at you for getting arrested at one thirty in the morning? No way.” His tone was sarcastic, and Ellie appreciated the fact that Jesse could still joke under circumstances like this. It made things feel almost normal. Almost.

Ellie winced, dragging a battered and bruised hand over her face. She had no idea why she’d been at the gas station picking up a bag of pretzels and a pack of ding-dongs that late at night. A documentary about the recently discovered Exo-planet was on the Discovery channel, and she’d actually worked up an appetite after it was over. She missed acting her age. Maybe that’s why she ended up getting into her Jeep. She was tired of feeling nostalgic and actually wanted to do something for herself. As minuscule as grabbing snacks from the gas station down the street was, it still felt out of the ordinary for her. Special.

Dina was sitting on the couch when the pair slunk into the house, walking on their tip toes in the hopes that the creaking wooden floors wouldn’t wake up JJ. Ellie froze in the entryway, green eyes wide as she took in the female’s crossed arms and death-glare. She was in trouble, which meant that Jesse was in trouble as well by association.

“Do you know what time it is?” Dina whisper-yelled, throwing her arm in the direction of the clock on the wall.

Ellie squinted her one good eye, noting that it was now four in the morning. She’d lost three hours. She should have been passed out on her prescribed sleeping pills by now, plagued by vivid nightmares. Instead she was intruding on her two best friends, and for what? ‘A pack of beer’, she reminded herself. A god damn pack of fuckin’ beer.

Ellie’s mouth went dry, her lips moving but no words escaping her. How many times had she apologized to Dina since she’d gotten home after the accident? Still, her best friend’s anger was better than Jesse’s pity. The sleeves of Ellie’s flannel tightened around her biceps as she crossed her arms over her chest, mirroring Dina’s posture as if to protect herself. She slipped a hand up, covering her neck anxiously.

“I’m getting better, D. I’ll schedule an emergency meeting with my therapist and-” Ellie sounded pathetic, even to her own ears.

What she was doing couldn’t be called living. Ellie was simply existing and not doing a very good job at it either. She was tired of being tired. She blinked her misty eyes, turning to face the kitchen. She refused to cry. Once she started she couldn’t be sure that she’d be able to stop.

Jesse and Dina’s shoes were all neatly laid out by the front door and JJ’s baby bag was sitting on the dining room table. This was a family that she had just burdened. Her eyes snagged on JJ’s highchair, and then the guilt was building right back up in her chest.

Guilt and jealousy.

Ellie had once had hopes of starting her own family eventually. When did she lose her grasp on that? On her lifelong dreams and aspirations? She wanted to help people- save people- so when had she become the one that needed saving? The marines hadn’t ruined Ellie. Ellie had ruined Ellie.

“No, you’re not.” Dina said simply, her voice sounding thick with emotion. “Ellie, look at me.” Her voice was commanding despite her sadness.

Ellie’s eyes fell to the floor, but she turned her head to face Dina, green eyes flickering up to her face. Bottom lip quivering, brown eyes misty- Dina looked miserable.

“You’re not getting better.” She whispered to Ellie, shaking her head to drive the point home. It looked like the words physically hurt for her to say.

Every excuse that she could have given dissipated. Suddenly she felt naked, utterly exposed. Every nasty, jagged scar was on full display. How many times had she said that to the people that cared about her?

“I’m getting better.” “I actually feel a bit better today.” “You don’t have to worry about me. The meds are really working this time.” Ellie wasn’t sure when it happened but she had become a liar. A damn good one too. Dina was looking at her now though, really looking at her, and Ellie’s face crumpled.

“Fuck.” Ellie whispered to herself, moving her hands to cover her face.

Jesse stepped behind Ellie, wrapping his arms around her tightly, resting his cheek on the top of her head. A sob caught in Ellie’s chest and she strangled it before it could escape her. She couldn’t lose it. She couldn’t let her shoulders sag, couldn’t allow herself to feel everything in front of her best friends.

“I called Joel,” Dina finally said, leaning against the back of the couch, her knuckles going white with how hard she gripped the leather. “And he bought you a plane ticket. You’re flying out tomorrow.”

“No,” Ellie was already shaking her head before Dina had even finished her sentence. “How could you do this?” She felt the betrayal like a slap in the face. Her lips parted, eyes wide in silent desperation.

Please let this be a nightmare.

Her hand desperately flew to her arm, giving it a sharp pinch. The floor didn’t fall out from under her. She didn’t sit up sweating in her tangled sheets. This was actually happening. Actually real.

“You’re flailing, Ellie. We thought that eventually you’d level out,” Dina tried, taking a few steps towards Ellie and her husband. “But you’re only getting worse.”

“I’m getting better.” The well rehearsed line was the only thing she could think to utter. She prayed that eventually she could convince herself of that too. If she said the words enough times then maybe, eventually, they would become her reality. Perhaps she could somehow manifest her recovery.

“When was the last time you ate a solid meal? You barely touched your plate the other night. And I know you aren’t eating the food that Jesse drops off for you.” Dina was pointing out her flaws as if she didn’t see them all herself.

A full stomach meant nausea.

“When was the last time you showered?” The dark haired girl questioned.

Showering meant closing herself up into a tight space. It meant getting naked- seeing her scars. Remembering what happened to her and the rest of her unit.

“We know how this will end, Ellie. I don’t care if you hate me for the rest of my life for calling Joel. I refuse to lose you like this.” Dina’s voice quivered as she spoke, but her eyes hardened. She was resolute about her decision.

Jesse’s arms tightened around Ellie and suddenly they no longer felt like a comfort but a prison. She needed air. Needed to call Joel and apologize. Needed to tell him that she was fine. She was fine. She would be just fine.

“I can’t breathe.” Ellie managed to whisper out, knees buckling from underneath her. It felt like the world was finally swallowing her up whole.

She was a failure. She’d failed Jesse, Dina, JJ and Joel. Why couldn’t she just be normal again? Why couldn’t she just fucking breathe.

Jesse let go of Ellie as she began gasping for air, helping to sit her down on the cold hardwood floor. It felt like everything around her had slowed down to a crawl, but her mind- it had sped up to a breakneck pace. She couldn’t turn it off. Couldn’t turn off the thoughts and the images and the feelings.

She’d killed her unit. It was her fault that they all died. They had all been taken home in body bags, and what had Ellie gotten? A fucking government issued check every month that she blew on booze and a Purple Heart that collected dust.

“D, get the medication that’s in the cabinet and a glass of water.” Jesse called out to his wife. It sounded like they were underwater. She was drowning.

“She’s ripping her fucking hair out, Jesse.” Dina called out in panic, rifling through the medicine cabinet with shaky hands. Her best friend gripped her wrists, forcing them back down to her sides. Strands of Auburn hair were tangled up between her clammy fingers.

JJ must have woken up because of the comotion. She could hear him crying from the other room. Screaming for his mother.

Blood. So much blood. It’s coming out of her mouth, what do I do? What do I do about internal bleeding again? Wasn’t I trained for this? Breathe. She’s not breathing. Are there other landmines? Can I drag her to safety? Where is everyone else? H-How. . . How can I help?

“Swallow, Ellie.” Dina was crouched in front of her, forcing her lips open to slide a pill onto her tongue.

“It was my fault. I-I fucking,” She choked out, gagging at the taste of the pill that was beginning to dissolve on her tongue. “I led them out there. Oh, fuck.”

Dina was beginning to panic, pushing the plastic cup up to Ellie’s mouth in the hopes that she would drink. She did, choking back the water in deep gulps. The water helped to fill the aching pit that was beginning to grow in her stomach. Water poured down the sides of Ellie’s lips, but she kept drinking. Deep, thoughtful gulps of ice cold water.

“Should I call an ambulance?” Dina finally asked, her eyes flickering between Ellie and her husband.

“No. No hospital. Just go sit with JJ, alright? I’ve got her.” Jesse told her, letting go of Ellie’s hands so that he could wrap an arm around her waist, hugging her against his chest so that she couldn’t stand up.

Ellie blinked and Dina was gone, the sound of her bare feet jogging down the hall was the only reminder of her presence.

“Joel isn’t going to judge you, Ellie. We all just want to help. So let us, alright?” She knew he was telling the truth, but the thought of Joel seeing her as lesser-than killed her. She would crumble completely if Joel looked at her with the same sorrowful eyes that Jesse did.

Joel was newly retired though, and the last thing he needed was to put up with his PTSD-ridden adopted daughter. She was tired of feeling like a burden, but where had standing on her own two feet gotten her? Arrested on multiple occasions? So she relented. She surrendered to the idea of sleeping in her old bedroom and taking up space in Joel’s too-big ranch home.

“Okay.” Ellie croaked, feeling the medication kicking in. Sleep. All Ellie wanted to do was sleep.

“Okay?” Jesse repeated back to her, needing to know that she was serious. The last thing he probably wanted to do was wrestle Ellie onto the plane. He wasn’t entirely sure he could overpower her when it came down to it.

“Okay.”

Grief was an uphill battle. One minute you’re laughing with your friends and then the next you’re laid up in bed, tossing and turning with the realization that what could have been was now an impossibility. You missed Abby. You missed the life that you could have had with her. All of the memories and milestones you missed out on were soul crushing the second that the sun went down.

You were left in your empty house, laid up in the bed that the two of you once shared. Her scent had long since washed out of her pillow. All that was left were pictures and a gravesite that you still couldn’t bring yourself to visit. Life doesn’t stop when you lose somebody though. People eventually become less forgiving as the months pass by.

So you squeezed your eyes closed and hoped that sleep would come sooner rather than later. You had an early start tomorrow for work, and the last thing you wanted was to show up with puffy eyes.

Life was getting better though. The pain wasn't as debilitating as it had been months ago, and for that you were thankful.

One step at a time, one day at a time.

You were still breathing, which was exactly what Abby would have wanted for you. The overwhelming grief hadn't killed you, no matter how many times you'd secretly prayed that it would. You were still here and that was good enough.

For now, at least.

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pucksandpower · 7 months

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Charles Leclerc x Horner!Reader - Social Media AU

y/nhorner

Liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo, and 273,816 others

y/horner waiting to get my wings

View all 529 comments

y/nbiggestfan come on red bull, give our girl her wings already!

y/nhornersupremacy i hate that the talent is right in front of them but they keep overlooking you! totally their loss

y/nhornersupremacy manifesting those wings for you soon! the grid is missing your fierceness

purplesector red bull or alphatauri would be crazy not to lock you down

womeninmotorsport the world needs more phenomenal female drivers like you ❤️

y/n4wdc the day is coming for those wings, i just know it

y/nhorner

Liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc, and 1,395,627 others

y/nhorner i don’t care, i paint the town red

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scuderiaferrari red is your color ❤️

charles_leclerc looks like we’ll be seeing a lot of each other 😉 welcome to the team!

y/nhorner can’t wait 🫶

gridgossip oh it’s about to go down! competing against daddy horner 👀

formulanone never call him daddy again 🥴

womeninmotorsport you go girl! time to show red bull what they missed out on

y/nbiggestfan so excited for you!

lewishamilton onwards and upwards 🙌🏾

y/nhorner thank you, lew!

formulanews red bull must be punching the air right now! y/n and ferrari are going to be a force to be reckoned with together

La Vendicata Revitalizes Ferrari

Maranello, Italy (15 July 2024) - Scuderia Ferrari is reinvigorated in 2024 thanks largely to the arrival of young British driver Y/N Horner. Dubbed “La Vendicata” (The Avenged) by the loyal Tifosi, Horner has made an immediate impact in her first season with the team and rookie season in F1.

Her commanding victories at the Austrian and British Grands Prix added to a consistent streak of podium finishes, establishing Horner as a rising star. Beating Red Bull, her father’s team, on their home soil was sweet revenge after being passed over for a seat.

But Horner’s influence extends beyond her own results. She convinced renowned race strategist Hannah Schmitz to make the jump from Red Bull and breathe new life into the famously questionable Ferrari strategy. Schmitz’s shrewd calls have helped optimize both Leclerc and Horner’s aggressive driving styles.

Additionally, Horner brought along several top designers and engineers from Milton Keynes to strengthen Maranello’s technical team. Her rapport with teammate Charles Leclerc has Ferrari targeting its first Constructors’ Championship and Drivers’ Championship in nearly two decades.

Team Principal Fred Vasseur praised Horner’s technical acumen and work ethic. “Her talent and confidence are matched only by her preparation and diligence. Y/N understands the car and motivates the team.”

The Tifosi have quickly embraced La Vendicata’s bold charisma and flair for the dramatic. With a title challenge in sight, she has brought fresh belief and energy to Ferrari. Still very much early in her career, her potential seems limitless.

Y/N Horner is out to show Red Bull what they lost by revitalizing the Prancing Horse. With La Vendicata and Il Predestinato leading the charge, Ferrari’s glory days may soon return.

y/nhorner

Liked by charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari, and 784,695 others

y/nhorner i still want your hands up on my body. you still make my heart beat fast, ferrari

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leclerclover it’s definitely charles! i would know those arms and legs anywhere

trulytifosi i think her boyfriend is just being supportive and wearing ferrari merch

leclerclover no way, the body language is all there. it’s definitely charles!

f1wagupdates charles and y/n would be the dream team on and off the track

lightsoutferrari let’s not jump to conclusions, it could just be a random boyfriend. charles doesn’t have a monopoly on wearing ferrari branded clothing

scuderiay/n i know that nothing’s been confirmed yet but imagine if it is charles 👀 they would have so much chemistry together

monzamash i’m manifesting them so much

scuderiaferrari

Liked by y/nhorner, charles_leclerc, and 2,175,834 others

scuderiaferrari when your drivers take team bonding a bit too seriously

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y/nhorner you told us that we should get close to each other so we did

scuderiaferrari as teammates, maybe friends. not close enough for the admin to be traumatized by finding you with each other’s tongue down your throats while i was just trying to get an espresso

charles_leclerc what can we say? we’re overachievers like that

maxverstappen1 so it’s okay when they do it but when i tried to kiss daniel for team bonding i got in trouble? make it make sense!

redbullracing it’s been seven years, let it go

maxverstappen1 no

ferraricentral clearly whatever they’re doing is working so no complaints here

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thef1diary · 1 month

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Podium Princess | LN + CS + CL

Summary: Lando lost a bet, which would have just temporarily damaged his ego, but the problem was that you were the prize that Charles and Carlos desired for one night.

masterlist taglist form

Warnings: 18+, mmmf, unprotected sex, three men for three holes 🤭, fingering, oral, anal, dp?, filthy as fuck, derogatory terms (kinda), praise, overstimulation, riding.

pairing: lando x fem!reader x carlos x charles

wc: 3.1k

Request: You should totally write a smut about lando sharing his girlfriend with Carlos and Charles after placing in the #australiangp

"You did what?" You asked your boyfriend, wondering if you misheard his words. "I made a bet," Lando responded, but this time with more assurance.

You sat down on the bed in your shared hotel room and asked, "what is it?" Patting the spot next to you, silently indicating Lando to sit down and begin explaining the bet. You've known from the years you've been dating that whenever he places a wager, he eventually loses, but you chose against mentioning it.

He hesitated for a moment but then decided to explain how he ended up in that situation.

The evening began when Lando noticed Carlos and Charles speaking after the qualifying session. He observed they had been spending a lot of time together recently, so Lando obviously had to approach them and disrupt their latest gossip session.

Putting the trio together, one would discover that they never run out of topics to discuss, which is how they found themselves sitting in a car in the parking lot outside their hotel. Carlos suggested that since they were all staying at the same hotel for the weekend, they might as well leave the track together.

However, during the car ride, there was a discussion that quickly brought out the competitive nature that each driver had developed at a young age. "What, you guys don't think I'll win?" Lando asked the Ferrari drivers, slightly offended. This particular topic of conversation started once they discussed the possible winners for the race tomorrow.

Based on the three practice sessions and qualifying, it could be argued that while they all had a fairly nice weekend so far, some were still more fortunate than others. As a result, the Spaniard shook his head, disagreeing with his friend, "mate, I'm starting second tomorrow, which clearly means I have a better chance of winning."

"I was first in fp1," Lando retaliated although they all knew that qualifying in a higher position meant more than topping a single practice session.

"You might have a good chance, but Max is on pole, let's not forget that," Charles reminded his fellow colleagues. Lando perked up at his words, "exactly, so all Carlos needs to do is somehow crash him out of the race so I can win."

Charles laughed at the outrageous plan, but Carlos scoffed, "I won't ruin my chances at a podium for a race you won't win." Noticing Lando's defeated expression, it caused Charles to laugh harder. "Not that I think either of you would win, but let's make a bet," the Monégasque suggested.

"Who do you think will win?" Carlos asked. Charles' dimple deepened as he smiled, "me of course."

This time Lando scoffed, "yeah, sure mate," then he looked at Carlos, "what do I get when I win the bet?"

"This," Carlos stated while holding up his middle finger towards him. Rolling his eyes, he decided, "fine, I'll ask for something when I win, and then you two won't be able to deny it."

"And what do we get if you don't win?" Carlos asked, looking at Charles who was waiting for an answer from Lando.

While Lando was focused on what he would ask for if he won the bet, he failed to consider that Carlos or Charles were more likely to win than him. He would have a one-in-three chance of winning the wager, but Lando hadn't realized the extent of the situation just yet.

"Not that it'll happen but what do you guys want?" He asked only as a formality to actually set the bet.

Carlos was quiet for a moment as he thought of something that would be worthwhile, looking at Charles to see if he had any ideas. Then he thought of it—of you. "Your girlfriend," he simply stated.

It took two seconds for Lando to start laughing, not that it was ever a challenge to do so, but he initially assumed that Carlos was joking. His laughter quickly died down once he didn't hear either driver laugh along with him.

Looking in the backseat at Charles briefly, who nodded in agreement, Lando snapped his head towards Carlos, "what do you mean my girlfriend?"

"It's simple. If Charles or I win, then you have to share your girlfriend for a night, if not, then you don't," he explained nonchalantly.

Lando looked at Charles, "and you agree with him?" He shrugged, then nodded, "she's hot, I wouldn't say no."

He slumped back in his seat, "I suppose you'll be disappointed when I win." While Lando was secure in his abilities, both drivers around him thought he was growing overconfident. "So you agree, that if you don't win, we can have her?"

Nodding it off and waving his hand around, Lando agreed, "yeah, you can."

You were stunned into silence once he finished explaining. Noticing your lack of words, Lando was unsure of your thoughts. "You don't think I'll win?"

You shrugged, "all I'm gonna say is that you have twenty-one other chances to win this season if you don't win this race." You didn't exactly answer his question, but he realized that you weren't opposed or disgusted by the idea either. Pulling you into his lap, he tilted your chin upwards with his fingers and leaned closer for a kiss.

He tightened his grasp on your chin to stop you before you could press your lips against his. "Oh I see, you don't want me to win just so you can be passed around like a slut between my friends?"

"You wouldn't have put me as the prize if you didn't like the idea," you retaliated, smirking as you moved his hand away to finally place your lips on his.

—

You stood among the crowd, cheering for Lando, who took his place on the third step of the podium. As the podium celebrations began, a part of you was also looking forward to the celebrations that would follow later tonight. Lando may have lost a bet, but it was the first bet you were glad he lost.

That is how you ended up in your hotel room with your lover, waiting in anticipation for the other two drivers to arrive. With his trophy set aside, you and Lando were occupied with each other; your eyes closed and head tilted back as he trailed kisses down your throat.

Then came a knock on the door, one that made your heart race in all the best ways. Lando stood up and opened the door, revealing Charles and Carlos standing on the other side, still dressed in their Ferrari polos from earlier that evening.

"What did he say? I suppose you'll be disappointed when I win," Charles greeted by mocking Lando's words from the day before. "Alright, alright I get it but I still placed third," he retaliated which earned a nod from Carlos. "Congrats, cabrón."

You could hear them laughing among themselves, but it quickly died down once Carlos and Charles spotted you. Lando had suggested that you should wear red, considering both of the drivers that placed first and second adored red.

There you sat on the mattress, leaning back on your forearms with an ankle crossed over the other, clad in only a tight short red dress which you were glad you ended up packing.

"Well, fuck me," Charles muttered under his breath earning a chuckle from you once you heard his comment. Standing up and slowly stepping towards them, you replied, "fuck me indeed."

Your gaze was fixated on Carlos, the race winner, whose eyes revealed a glimpse of all the dirty thoughts racing through his mind. "Congratulations, you both deserve a good celebration," you said, smiling as you felt Carlos' arm snaking around your waist and Charles' breath fanning your face.

"Is that what you're going to give us? A good celebration?" Charles asked, his lips grazing your cheek. "I'll give you anything you want."

You looked at your boyfriend for a second, making sure he was still comfortable with the situation before proceeding any further. But you just saw desire in his eyes and while the corner of his lip curled up in a lazy smirk, a nod from him allowed you to carry on. He may have nodded at you, but his eyes darted over your head to his fellow drivers, "Go on then, Carlos, Charles, claim your prize."

Your lips parted slightly, marvelling at the fact that Lando hadn't even addressed you, instead treating you like an object to be claimed. The worst part was realizing that you liked it since his remarks had made you clench your thighs together.

Carlos grinned at your obedient behaviour as he was easily able to tip your head back to face him. Now that they truly had the freedom to do anything they wanted to you, with your permission, neither felt bad for having sinful thoughts about you—their best friend's girlfriend—while Carlos and Charles were alone in their bedrooms.

Kissing you with a sense of urgency, Carlos stole your breath away in a matter of seconds. Your thoughts had quickly dissipated into thin air as you felt Charles trailing his fingers up your body while pressing up behind you.

You heard Lando shuffle around before leaving the three of you alone in the bedroom for a moment which only intensified your feelings. Sandwiched between the two men who are good friends of yours, were now looking at you as if you are merely an outlet for their sexual desires.

Sliding down the straps that held your dress up, Charles continued kissing every inch of your bare skin revealed to him. His hands rounded to your front, pulling down the flimsy piece of fabric to display your tits to the duo. Your nipples instantly pebbled as Charles' fingers brushed against them, making you tilt your head back and resting it against his shoulder.

Letting you regain your breath, Carlos moved down to your neck, replacing each kiss Lando had placed earlier with small nips and grazes of his teeth, just painful enough to still be pleasurable.

While both their mouths were occupied, the Spaniard's hands pushed down the rest of your dress to the floor, parting away for a moment to let you to step out of it and toss it to the side with your feet.

Lando returned to the room, trapping his bottom lip between his teeth to prevent a moan from leaving his mouth. You were now completely bare, with two fully clothed drivers—his friends—pressed against you while their hands roamed all over your body.

Discarding his shirt on the floor, he occupied your mouth with another kiss, muffling your moans. "Fuck, enjoying yourself, baby?" Lando muttered once you parted away for a moment. Nodding, you opened your mouth to respond but a sharp gasp left your mouth as you felt Charles' fingers teasing your clit while Carlos palmed your ass.

"Merde, she's so perfect," the Monégasque commented, spreading your pussy with two fingers while a third finger swiped through your folds to catch the wetness that gathered between. "Charles," you breathlessly whispered, a plead for more.

"So ready to be ruined," Carlos added, his own fingers prodding your ass, earning a string of curses along with pleas to keep going from you. Gathering your slick from your cunt, Carlos coated his fingers to ease just the tip of one finger into your ass.

Soon enough, you were laid down on the bed, and one by one the three men stripped their clothes away, adding to the ever growing pile that started from your dress. You could barely keep your eyes open due to the feeling of three pairs of hands roaming everywhere, not leaving any inch of your skin untouched.

You had already orgasmed twice, but you couldn't remember whose fingers brought you over the edge the first, or even the second time, as all of the sensations mushed together in what felt like one never ending wet dream.

Staying true to your words of giving them anything they desired, you moaned around Carlos' cock as Charles slid his dick in your pussy without any forewarning. Your grasp on his thighs tightened as Charles began to thrust, slowly at first but then showed no mercy once his grasp on your hips tightened.

Carlos pulled your mouth off his cock, but quickly replaced the emptiness you immediately felt with two of his fingers resting heavily on your tongue. His actions didn't allow you to close your jaw, causing you to drool down your chin, and only then he was satisfied.

"Such a good fucking girl," he commented, which only made your head spin further while you smiled at the compliment. "Oh she likes that," Charles added as he felt your pussy clench around him at Carlos' praise.

His fingers that were now coated with your saliva trailed down your body to where you and Charles were connected. He nodded mockingly at his teammate's comment, "yeah, you like being praised?"

Easily finding your swollen clit, he slightly pinched it before creating small circles, edging you closer. You nodded, "please, please, please." You were sobbing for relief, your voice strained from the constant cries that left your lips with each new wave of ecstasy.

Connecting their gaze, Charles and Carlos smirked as they silently agreed to let you cum once again. Charles's fingers slid closer to your back hole, this time able to slide two fingers down to the last knuckle. At the same time, Carlos' fingers left your clit only to join the thrusts of Charles' cock, scissoring two of his fingers in your pussy to stretch you out even further. Pleasure surged through your body, and you closed your eyes tightly at the sudden sensation of being so full.

Charles slowed down his thrusts, prolonging your post orgasmic sensation. You slumped forwards when he pulled out, still holding back his own release for now.

Despite still being eager, they were ever patient with you especially after bringing you over the edge multiple times now, knowing your limbs were close to tiring out.

Still on your hands and knees, you shuffled up to straddle Carlos, sinking down on down cock this time, mouth dropping open as he stretched you out slightly differently compared to Charles.

"C'mon, cariño, ride me," he instructed, resting his hands on your hips, urging your movements while also allowing you to depend on him for help. "You feel so good, Carlos," you panted.

You heard some shuffling around you again but you couldn't move your gaze away from watching your pussy engulf Carlos' cock over and over again.

However, you were startled once you felt a cool sensation prodding your ass; Charles' fingers coated in lube. "Need you to relax, baby," you could hear Lando's words and he was quick to come into your view, stroking his dick to the sight of you filled by his former teammate.

He grabbed your hand off of Carlos' shoulder, guiding it towards his cock. Already slick with his precum, you could easily move your hand up and down, watching his reaction with hooded eyes.

Charles' free hand wrapped around your throat from behind while he whispered in your ear, "we're gonna fill up all of your holes, darling."

Groaning, you nodded, "please," a word that you had repeatedly spoken to the point where it sounded like a broken record. "You want that?" One of them asked, but you couldn't focus on whose voice it was. "Fill me up, please," your words turning into a moan as Carlos shifted underneath you, reaching deeper inside.

Releasing the grasp on your throat, Charles focused on opening you up with his fingers, for you to be able to take his cock in your ass while Carlos continued pounding your pussy.

Lando replaced Charles' hand, grabbing the back of your neck, threading his fingers in your hair to bring you close for a filthy kiss. Tongues and teeth clashing, he slightly bit down on your bottom lip, sucking and pulling on it for a moment before letting go.

Without any words exchanged, your boyfriend guided your mouth towards his cock, filling up two out of three of your holes. It took you a moment before you actually started moving your head up and down, moaning and drooling on his cock because of Carlos' upward thrusts.

Charles removed his fingers, having deemed to have stretched you out enough then coating his dick with a good amount of lube. With one hand palming and spreading your ass, he used the other to guide his cock into you. Your eyes welled up with tears, not entirely painful but almost overwhelmed with being filled everywhere at once.

Your body was quickly calmed down by Lando, Charles, and Carlos as they moved their hands all over you in soothing motions. Charles began thrusting when you nodded because you were unable to speak while Lando's dick was in your mouth.

Your muffled groans sounded distant to you, mind foggy, but you had never felt so full and aware before.

With a warning, Lando filled your mouth with cum, which you swallowed greedily without hesitation. Now, with your mouth unoccupied, you couldn't hold back on your moans. "Gonna cum," you warned, knowing you won't last long, still sensitive from your previous orgasms.

Charles' fingers reached your chest, teasing and pinching your nipples while Carlos rested his palms on your cheeks, wiping away your tears with his thumb.

Your pace stuttered as you came around his cock, and Carlos took the reins and thrusted upwards, allowing you to ride out your orgasm. "Fuck, where do you want us?" Charles asked, tethering on the edge and based on Carlos' stuttering pace, you knew he was too.

Your next words pushed both over the edge, "inside." Slumping forwards, you felt both Ferrari drivers filling you up with their cum. "Fucking hell, that was hot," Lando commented, leaning closer to brush away the strands of hair stuck on your forehead due to sweat.

Charles and Carlos carefully eased you off their cocks, with Lando helping you lie down on the bed which you immediately melted into.

It was unbearable for you to be completely empty after being entirely filled. Mustering up all your strength, you held your arms out for your boyfriend, who immediately joined you on the bed, whispering praises in your ear.

Meanwhile, Carlos and Charles decided to clean you up by wiping the cum that had leaked out of your holes with a damp towel. They saw the bruises from their grasps on you in the heat of the moment and couldn't help but smile, knowing they were the cause of it.

You hoped, as you drifted off to sleep, that the three of them would share the podium more frequently, and therefore, share you as well.

Taglist based on the form (let me know if you would like to be removed) @lochnoch @llando4norris @monsieurbacteria6 @namgification @lilymurphy03 @sargeantdumbass @evlkking @jointhehunt67 @wonnou @nikfigueiredo

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becca-e-barnes · 11 months

Note

I need more of needy Bucky who loses control from the feeling of being inside your pussy. I need him to fuck me like a rag doll and to carry me over his shoulder around the house like his personal flesh light.

Fuck, this has always been one of my very favourites to write. I really like to imagine that he struggles to last but he can keep going after he finishes 🙈 it's my lil filthy fantasy

But imagine spending the morning in bed with him. You both wake up around 6am and you spend the first little while just touching and chatting before a couple of hours of sex. Now it's maybe around 11am and after lying there together for a while, you're both in the mood for something to eat.

You pull a robe around you and that's just about as much as you manage before Bucky's scooped you up, carrying you to the kitchen.

"You don't need to carry me everywhere!" You tease, remembering that he'd carried you up the stairs to bed last night too.

"I know. But. Carrying you means. I. Can put you. Exactly. Where. I want you." He peppers kisses over your face and neck, tenderly capturing your bottom lip between his before he sets you up on the kitchen countertop.

There's no point arguing with him so you sit there quite happily. He makes up a quick pancake mix, washes some berries from the fridge, preps the coffee machine and sets the little dining table for the two of you.

Somewhere in between, you got a little distracted, perched on the counter scrolling on your phone. You hadn't noticed the way he's looking at you.

He's so caught up in the little things; the way the light hits your shoulder, the curve of your hips, the way the silhouette of your nipples are visible against the satin robe.

"Look at you, sitting there all sweet like your cunt isn't so fucking full of me."

That's got your attention.

You squirm a little, your body fluttering at how shamelessly vulgar he's being but nothing's stopping you from doing the same.

You spread your legs, exposing the slick mess coating your inner thighs. It's a mixture of your own arousal and Bucky's cum, dripping out of your sensitive cunt.

Your fingertips trail lazily over your exposed sex, your skin glistening in the natural light before you bring your fingers to your own lips, sucking them clean, giving him a little bit of a show.

"Tastes amazing, sweetheart." You groan, noticing the growing bulge in his thin pyjama bottoms. "But I lost track of how many times you came inside me this morning. You came so deep, most of your cum won't have dripped out yet. Bet I'm still totally stuffed full."

He sinks to his knees in no time, settling his head between your thighs, breathing in the faint smell of your arousal. His tongue presses flat to your sex, trailing from your hole to your clit and back, gathering as much of your combined release as possible.

He groans, low and pathetic, allowing his tongue to dip inside you as deep as he can bury it. He savours every drop of cum he earns back from your body.

When his tongue alone isn't enough, he slips a finger into you, followed quickly by a second, curling them against your sensitive inner wall.

"Bucky baby, please don't make me cum again." You groan, your fingers tangled in his dark hair but you know he's not giving you that choice. Not when his free hand is furiously stroking his own cock, desperate to ensure that when he's finished licking his cum out of you, he can flood your cunt with another load.

#asks answered <3 #becca writes spice #anon #needy!bucky #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes smut #I've gotten so into Scandal again recently #I'm so so so into Mellie #holy shit that woman is stunning #I'd be so tempted to write some shamelessly filthy Mellie x reader #I like Fitz too but just imagine THE COMPETITION #right no I actually HATE picking a colour for a pedi #I get a gel pedi every few weeks and I really need colour suggestions #Last time I got a sparkly red #the time before I got white with a pearly kind of shimmer on top #I've liked both but I'm so bad at picking a colour #I know neons are usually safe in summer but I don't think I'd like neons on me #open to any other suggestions tbh

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bunnysbrainrot · 29 days

Text

Too Sweet

A series inspired by Hozier’s ‘Too Sweet’.

Relationship: Joel Miller x f!Reader

Content: No sexually explicit content, at least not yet. Some slight fluff? Slow burn vibes? Joel is kind of a dick (for once in my writings), but a protective dick.

Summary: You’re one of the newest arrivals in Jackson after a long trip to seek refuge. Now that you’re settling in, one of Jackson’s most integral men is the head of your first patrol. Will Joel be able to set aside that gruff demeanor for the sake of meeting someone new?

A/N: I’m so sorry about my recent hiatus, everyone. I’ve thought of this series for a while, to get me inspired again and to work towards something bigger. I’ve also thought about having some sections/chapters be from Joel’s perspective. Thoughts on that? Sorry it’s nothing spicy yet, but we’ll work up to it. Tensionnnn

The sound of birds echoed outside your bedroom window. By some miracle, you’d found a community, after so many months wandering either alone, or with the occasional group, but never for long. The mattress beneath you squeaks as you shift in your bed. Normally an irksome noise, but it reminded you that you were finally safe.

A faint light of dawn trickles through the gaps in the curtains, streaking around the room in a periwinkle hue. Your sluggish grog was slowly wearing off, while you processed your plans for that day. It was a Thursday, according to your new watch. God, you hadn’t realized how much you missed being able to tell the time. Who knows truly how long you’d been out there. Days blurring together, the minutes excruciatingly drawn out without company.

It was nice to be a part of something again.

Finally, you sat up in bed, rolling your head to stretch your neck. How long had it been since you had a proper pillow?

A smile crept onto your face. You’re better rested than ever, but an anxiety still ate away at you. Today was your first patrol outside of Jackson. You weren’t alone, of course, but the expectations you held for yourself could be your downfall.

“Okay, let’s do this,” you whispered to yourself.

Walking over to your dresser, you eyed yourself in a dusty mirror above the chest of drawers. A kind woman named Maria had provided you with a few new outfits when you’d first arrived a week ago. In the meantime until today, she’d given you those days to process and settle, and you were grateful for her patience.

When Maria had asked you what role you’d like in the community, she could see the steely glint in your eyes. Well seasoned from years of fighting and running, yet still a kernel of a protective rage.

You had expressed to her of your journey before finding Jackson. On that day she asked you how many of the dead you had taken out thus far.

“In total, by myself, well over three hundred, I would say. I don’t know, I think I lost track at some point.”

Her expression shifted to one of assurance, like they’d just gotten a worthy addition to their town. Someone who could protect what they’d all built.

She explained the basics of patrols, the routes laid out on an old map, with hand drawn trails and indicators of the area. You made an attempt to remember as much as you could, but surely you’d get good practice being out there, actually doing it.

————

You check yourself before heading out the front door. This time of year, the weather has started to warm up, so your opted for a t-shirt, jeans, a light jacket, and a ‘new’ pair of hand-me-down boots.

The air outside was cleaner than you’d imagined. The scent of early morning breakfasts wafted through the breeze, bringing a pang to your stomach. Maria hadn’t mentioned how long patrols would take; you debated if you had time to grab something from a stall in the heart of town. Other residents had been given spaces to cook for the community, giving out easy meals for these hardworking people.

Turns out you did have time, to your relief. In a matter of minutes, you held a piping hot breakfast sandwich in your hands, its heat seeping into your chilled fingers.

A few folks wave a friendly ‘hello’ as you trek to the Southern side of Jackson, to its border wall to meet up with your patrol group. There was a huddle of both peiple and horses, you noticed, as you got closer. One of the people turned to you, giving a wave in recognition.

“Hi, am I late? I thought I’d have time to get breakfast,” you explained.

There was a woman with kind eyes who spoke next, “Not at all, these bastards just insist on getting up at 5:30.”

“That sure is an early start.”

“It gets them cranky like you wouldn’t believe,” she replied, quickly cut off by a new voice.

It was a gentleman who called to the group, “We all here?”

His voice wasn’t commanding, but it did put people into gear to check themselves. Clearly he was the one in charge of this patrol. The look in his eyes told you all you needed to know.

He might be someone to watch.

You turn to the woman, “I’m sorry to ask, but I don’t know anyone here yet. Is there any way you could give me a run-down of who everyone is?”

With a smile, she listed off the names of your group members, pointing them out. Some of them noticed and waved, others gave a slight smile, and others asked for your name. All were introduced until it was down to the man who’d rounded the group.

“And, that’s Joel. He’s head of the patrol.”

Your eyes shot to Joel now that you could put a name to the face. There was a moment of pause when you met his gaze, a moment frozen in time from his stare. He scanned over your face, down to your shoddy boots, and back to your eyes.

His expression doesn’t soften as he says, “Glad to have ya with us. Should be a horse on the way for you.”

Joel turns to face the gate as he rummages through his pockets for a folded map. He unfolds the paper until it spans across his horse’s shoulders.

The rhythmic clonk of a horse’s hooves came from behind. A familiar face approached with a stunning mare, it’s Maria.

“Mornin’ everyone, that should be it,” Maria traded off with you, handing you the mare’s lead. She spoke louder, announcing to the group. “Y’all stay safe out there. Shouldn’t be too bad, but it is getting warmer. Keep an eye out for groups.”

Members of your party nodded before Maria walked off, giving greetings to other folks who’d just begun to bustle around.

Your attention shifted back, specifically to Joel. It seemed that whatever he says, goes, so that’s what you’d follow.

Two men at the top of the wall made their way to the edges of the gate, hauling it open. Golden sunlight peeked above the mountains ahead, casting the world in a yellow glow.

Joel nodded, then a gruff, “Be smart. Stay close.”

————

The sun was overhead now. You’d been out here for hours, keeping an eye out for any infected that roamed too close to camp. A while ago, you spotted one trapped in an abandoned cabin. Which was quickly dispatched by one of the men in your party.

That cycle repeated almost wordlessly amongst you all. Hardly a single word had been uttered aside from Joel’s occasional command or redirection.

For the most part, things were going smoothly. And after a few minutes of some peace and quiet, you realized you’d strayed away from your spot in the formation. Your horse had fallen in pace with a beautiful brown stallion, riding on top, was none other than the leader.

Joel.

You’d turned to see who it was, but were quickly met with another intense stare. Your gaze darts to the side as you issue an apology, “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to get so ahead of everyone.”

For the first time his expression does soften. A slight hint or kindness in his eyes. The corners of his eyes crinkle with his slight smile.

“It happens. Just… keep a lil’ distance. You’re new, can’t have you rushing ahead without someone else with you.”

The words would form a lecture if it weren’t for his tone. It wasn’t scrutinizing, but rather soft and protective.

His advice brings a smile out of you. A genuine one, for the first time in a while. Perhaps he wasn’t as much of a hard-ass as you’d assumed. You tug your horse’s reins to slow her pace, creating a few feet of space between you and Joel.

Yet even still, that smile he gave you kept your heart racing.

It would be a horrible idea, to fawn after him.

Right?

That thought had no effect on the tightness in your chest, or the fluttering in your stomach. Perhaps it was simply happiness that someone so hardened could be so easily friendly. A hard exhale later, you told yourself that it was the camaraderie that flustered you.

—

The group had made their journey back to town. Aside from the occasional runner, there wasn’t much defense needed this morning. Once your group returned, you’d have lunch and trade off with the next group, and share your findings before they venture out.

You had let your mind wander as you rode with the group.

In a split second, your mare bucks in fright. There was no time to assess what scared her before you were shooting ahead, flying past your patrol group.

“Nonononono- NO! It’s alright, it’s alright-“ you cry, but it falls on deaf ears of a scared animal. Tugging on the reins made no difference. You still shot ahead of the others, directionless without someone to guide you.

“It’s alright, baby, you’re safe! You’re okay. It’s gone!” You plead to the horse to slow down. The reassurances don’t seem to be enough.

A thundering set of footsteps is heard behind you. In a swift move, Joel jabbed his horse with his heel, pushing himself to race ahead of you.

With the rush of the air and galloping hooves, you could hardly make out his instructions.

“What?!” You shouted.

“Pull the reins! And I mean pull!”

You gripped the leather of the reins, drawing them to your chest, tugging your horse’s head back and away. Her pace slowed, but she kept running, now to the left. You could make out a curse from Joel as he redirected.

In a stroke of luck, he made some headway. Joel’s horse zoomed forward, and merged directly in front of yours, and the interruption slowed the mare’s pace just enough.

Another tug of the reins helps her into a steady beat. Joel was directly ahead, now turned to the side to block more of the path. Your horse huffed and threw her head frustratedly. In that short time you had no clue just how far you’d strayed away - looking backwards told you that it was at least a few hundred meters.

Embarrassment showed in your flushed cheeks and wild expression, looking to Joel for some sort of scolding.

“I think something scared her. I.. I didn’t get a chance to see, it all happened so fast-“

Joel raised a hand to stop you mid-sentence. He didn’t wear a smile like before, but his expression wasn’t angry. If anything, he had that protective look once again.

“I know. They’re skittish, ‘specially her. She needs a little more control than the others.”

It’s a reassurance, truthfully. You breathed a sigh of relief knowing you weren’t on the shit list on the first day. Your breathing had slowed down now, though your heart still raced wildly in your chest.

He scanned your face thoroughly before he asked, “You alright?”

A nod is what you could muster. It’s enough for Joel to give a nod back before waving to the folks behind you, the rest of the group, to call them over.

“Maybe next time I’ll have a more confident horse. No offense….” you paused, “what’s her name?”

Joel’s lips tugged into a smile, “That’s Belle you’re ridin’. Poor girl hasn’t been out in a while, so she’s not as warmed up to this. But you did good with her, all things considered. Handled it well.”

You reached down to pat Belle on the side of her cheek, caressing her carefully.

“It’s okay, Belle. We’re with you. You’re alright now.”

A smile vanished from Joel’s face when you look back up at him. He cleared his throat, his eyes skirting away until your party began to join up with you two.

“It’s all good. Belle got the jitters. Let’s head home.”

With that explanation out of the way, the team could finally resume their return home. Along the way, Joel didn’t have much else to say, much to anyone actually. His silence was solemn - definitely not any invitation to strike up conversation.

Perhaps that’s how he’d always be - resigned, reserved, and off limits to everyone. A part of you ached at the thought of it.

For Joel, that loneliness could be his downfall.

Hi guys! Thanks for reading, I’m sorry if it seems a little boring, but it’s for the sake of the story building. TRUST it will get nasty soon. 🥰

#fanfiction #the last of us #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #tlou #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #tlou2 #bunny writes #smut #smut writing #the last of us fanfiction

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seungkwansphd · 9 months

Text

contusion confusion

pairing: seungcheol x afab reader word count: 4K synopsis: your clumsy lab partner left a bruise on you. seungcheol seems disproportionately upset by it, but it makes way more sense once you understand why. themes: college au, best friend seungcheol, double sided repressed feelings, possessive and jealous seungcheol. warnings: smut, mentions of bruising/marking, mention of reader being smaller than seungcheol.

a/n: i started this literally one year ago and lost steam. and then blonde.fucking.scoups comes along and truly does a number on me. anyways, bon appetit, LOL

“What the hell happened to you?” Seungcheol’s eyes widened as you stretched your legs across his lap on the sofa.

“What?” you blinked at him, taking your eyes off of the television momentarily.

“What’s this bruise from?” he asked, resisting the strong urge to touch the bluish purple mark just above your elbow.

“Ah, that!” you shrugged, “I almost tripped the other day in lab. Mingyu grabbed me, but he might as well have let me fall! Who knew someone could bruise you just from grabbing you! Like how strong is that dude even?” you rolled your eyes. Grumbling, you returned your attention to the screen.

Seungcheol stewed next to you. While he had no real claim or reason to be upset at your lab partner, every time you brought him up, it made him want to strangle someone.

Mingyu was so tall that you had to readjust the titration burette between replicates. Mingyu was all sweaty because he had come to lab right after the gym. Mingyu didn’t cover his face while sneezing.

Seungcheol eagerly awaited next semester when he wouldn’t have to hear about this man anymore.

Swallowing, your eyes flitted nervously to your best friend’s hands, which were stroking your calves absentmindedly as he watched the show. While just a mindless gesture on his part, you were struggling silently with the way it made your insides turn just slightly into jelly.

“Cheol, that tickles!” you finally pulled your legs away, curling into a ball against the armrest of the sofa.

“Oh, sorry,” he smiled sheepishly at you, seeming distracted. It almost seemed like your friend was sulking, but you couldn’t understand why. You were watching a sitcom!

…

“There you are!”

You looked up to see your lab partner standing over your table, clutching the straps of his backpack.

“Oh, hey Mingyu,” you furrowed your brows at him, “Did you need something?”

“I thought we were supposed to be working on our lab report today?” he cocked his head at you, wondering if he had gotten the time wrong.

“Oh shit!” you cursed, “I’m so sorry Gyu, I totally lost track of time!”

“That’s okay,” he laughed, “It’s not that big of a deal. You want to work on it now?”

“Sure!” you nodded, glancing at Seungcheol and Jeonghan, who were immersed in their computer programming assignments. “Do you mind if Mingyu joins us? We have a lab report.”

“Yes, we heard,” Jeonghan rolls his eyes at you, “Sure that’s fine.”

“Thanks,” Mingyu nods before taking the seat next to you.

“Did you start anything for it yet?” you asked, pulling your lab notebook out of your backpack.

“Whoa, did I really grab you that hard that day?” Mingyu exclaimed, seeing the purple bruise on your arm.

“Yes, it fuckin’ hurts too!” you squinted at him, annoyed.

“I didn’t think you could bruise someone just by grabbing them. I guess I’m just super strong, huh?” Mingyu preened.

“You’re so fucking annoying,” you threatened to punch him.

Jeonghan observed Seungcheol’s shift in mood with mild interest as you and Mingyu muddled your way through your lab report.

“I need some coffee or I’m going to rip my eyeballs out,” you announced after calculating mole fractions for far too long. You stood from the table to move towards the cafe in the library. You tapped your fingertips on your wallet mindlessly as you calculated how many shots of espresso you could consume without your heart bursting out of your chest.

“YN!” a familiar voice greeted you as they tapped your shoulder.

“Ah, hey!” you smiled at Bina, your lab partner from last year. “Ugh, I’m working on a lab report and it is giving me flashbacks to last semester!”

“Oh my god, please don’t remind me!” she rolled her eyes. You two had barely managed to scrape through that class. Unlike you, it had been her only chem requirement, so she was free of the horror of lab reports now. “Who’s your lab partner this semester?”

“Mingyu Kim,” you scrunched up your nose slightly, “God bless him, but he is such a klutz.”

“Wait, no. Mingyu? The Kim Mingyu?” Bina paled slightly.

“Why? Do you know him? Is there tea?” you looked at her with wide eyes.

“No, god I wish. He’s just so hot to me! I’m jealous, I would slog through another semester of chem to be his lab partner.”

“Would you?!” you gaped at her, thoroughly alarmed. “You’re sick in the head over this man,” you laughed heartily.

“No, probably not,” Bina chuckled after giving it some more serious consideration. “But I’d think long and hard about it.”

“We’re sitting over there if you wanna stop by and say hi. I’ll introduce y’all,” you offered before placing your order with the cashier.

“I might do that,” she craned her head to see exactly where your table was. “You’re sitting with Seungcheol too? My friend is infatuated with that man. They’re in Comp Sci together. Can she come say hi too?”

“S-sure,” you answered blankly. You had no stake or claim, but something in you wanted to scream ‘NO!’ when you heard Bina ask that question.

“You’re the best, we’ll be over in a bit,” Bina smiled brightly at you, giving you a squeeze.

“Okay, I’m ready to resume crying,” you announced when you returned to the table with your beverage.

“Okay, good, cause I’m ready to take a break from crying,” Mingyu looked up at you pitifully. “I think I figured out 4. So then if we can figure out 5, then we just need to pull together some nonsense for the discussion.”

“Okay, okay,” you nodded determinedly. By some miracle, question 5 was just some simple dilution practice, so before long you and Mingyu were typing furiously, chipping away at the remainder of the lab report.

“Hey YN!” Bina’s voice pulled you out of a sentence about how (DUH) important it was to switch pipettes between samples.

“Oh, hey Bina! What’s up?” you waved excitedly at your friend, eager to do some meddling for her.

“Not much, how are you? Long time no see!”

“Yes, luckily you’re done with your chem requirements, otherwise you’d be here crying with us,” you laughed as Mingyu and Seungcheol looked on at you with interest. Jeonghan had long ago put on a pair of noise canceling headphones and was ignoring everybody. “Mingyu, Bina was my lab partner last semester. And she was a lot better than you are,” you couldn’t help but tease.

“Hey!” Mingyu pouted.

“I mean at the very least she’s my height, so I didn’t have to readjust the biuret every time we titrated,” you rolled your eyes playfully at Bina.

“It’s not my fault you’re both short,” Mingyu protested, eyes flickering to Bina for some support.

“If it makes you feel better, I was terrible in lab too,” she offered up sympathetically, “YN is my patron saint of chemistry. Did she ever tell you about how I exploded two crucibles one time?”

“No!” Mingyu looked at her with interest, “Was YN also very mean to you and made you finish your work way ahead of time?”

“Yes!” Bina giggled excitedly, “Like why can’t we pull all nighters like normal people?”

“Hell no, I’m not disrupting my sleep schedule for y’all. No thanks,” you shook your head stalwartly. “Anyways, you two should exchange numbers so you can complain about me on your own time,” you chuckled. Bina and Mingyu seemed to agree and set about that task enthusiastically.

“Ah, sorry I’m being rude, this is my friend Hayoung! We’re in a writing foundations class together so we were working on that.”

“Hi,” she waved at everyone shyly.

“Hayoung, what’s your major?” you asked.

“Computer science, focusing on human & computer interactions.”

“Ooh?! Love me a girly in STEM! These two are comp sci as well! Do you all know each other?” you asked, mostly Seungcheol as Jeonghan was still intent on ignoring you.

“Maybe? You look kind of familiar, but I don’t talk to many people in class,” he chuckled honestly.

“I think we might have a class together?” Hayoung smiled.

“Oh wonderful! You two should exchange numbers too! Maybe you can work on comp sci stuff together,” you suggested. They weren’t really giving you too much to work with, if you were being honest.

“I’d actually love that,” Hayoung’s eyes creased into a smile, “I don’t know that many people in the major.”

“Is it because they’re being sexist?” your eyes widened and you raised a fist theatrically, “I’ll fight them all for you. Cheol, you will too, right? Jeonghan’s not much use in a fight, if I’m being honest,” you commented quietly, glancing at the target of your teasing.

“Sure,” Seungcheol’s face creased into a real smile as he watched you whisper about Jeonghan animatedly.

Hayoung and Seungcheol exchanged phone numbers as you watched on excitedly. Hayoung was clearly pleased, but Seungcheol was making a face as if he had tasted something odd, but was too polite to say anything about it.

“Bina is so cute!” Mingyu remarked happily after they both left, “Lucky you with your cute lab partners!”

“Yeah,” you rolled your eyes at him, “I love doing unpaid babysitting in the lab.”

…

“Cheol, can I crash on your couch?” you spoke after he picked up your call.

“Yeah, of course! Are you okay?” Seungcheol’s brow furrowed, worried.

“Yeah, I’ve just been sexiled,” you grumbled, starting your walk towards Seungcheol’s apartment. He met you about halfway and the two of you caught up on the walk back.

“How are things with Hayoung?” you asked, not quite making eye contact.

“What?” his hand slipped as he was moving to turn the doorknob.

“Hayoung, did you guys ever meet up to work on comp sci together?” you asked, lips pursed as you followed him into his apartment.

“Oh, no, she texted me but I forgot to text her back,” Seungcheol shrugged.

“Text her back, you jerk!” you poked Seungcheol insistently, “Hayoung’s cute! And she likes you.”

“That’s good for her,” Seungcheol grumbled, irritated at your attempt to push him towards someone else. Maybe his cause was truly hopeless.

“You’re acting weird,” you glanced at him oddly before flopping down on the couch.

“No, you take the bed,” Seungcheol ignored your statement and plopped down near your feet, tapping your legs lightly.

“No! I’m not gonna kick you out of your bed!” you protested.

“No, seriously, sleep on the bed. I always wake up before you anyways. I’ll end up waking you up if you sleep out here.”

“I-,” you tried to think of another excuse, but he wasn’t your best friend for no reason. He knew you just as well as you knew yourself. “Okay,” you acquiesced, hopping up from the couch to walk into his room, “Do you need anything from here before bed?” you turned to ask him, hand on the doorframe.

“Nope, I don’t think so.”

“Okay, thanks again for letting me crash,” you smiled at him before pulling the door not quite closed behind you.

Once inside, you dropped your bag and helped yourself to a t-shirt and pair of shorts from Seungcheol’s drawers. You laughed at the way you were swimming in the shirt.

“I look ridiculous,” you laughed, walking back out into the living room. “Cheol, look,” you spread your arms out to your sides, showing Seungcheol the way that his t-shirt just swallowed you.

“I-,” his brain stopped for a few moments. He wouldn’t say anything, but he could in fact see your nipples as you tried to show him whatever you were showing him. “What?”

“Your shirt is too big on me,” you folded your arms over your chest, irritated that he had been listening.

“Oh yeah, well I’m bigger than you,” he replied curtly.

“Well, yeah,” you glanced away from him. He was in such an odd mood today! You grumbled just a little bit before flopping down on the bed. You were tired.

Tossing and turning, you fought for a long time to push down the arousal that was building in your gut. Being enveloped by Seungcheol’s scent was making your brain go haywire. You could feel yourself throbbing and you bit down on your fist in an effort to try and distract yourself, but that hadn’t worked. Glancing nervously at the door, you contemplated seeking some relief, but the idea of doing it in Seungcheol’s bed while he was just outside the door inspired guilt, worry, and worst of all, excitement.

You managed to ignore yourself for about ten minutes before your left hand snuck down between your thighs, stroking them softly. Sinking deeper into Seungcheol’s pillows, you closed your eyes and imagined your best friend’s hands softly caressing and spreading your legs apart. You were embarrassed to hear the wet sounds of yourself opening up, but not embarrassed enough to stop. Your right hand came to tease the sensitive undersides of your breasts as your fingertips stroked languidly through your folds.

In the living room, Cheol wrestled with whether to disturb you or not. Several minutes ago, he had noticed that one of his textbooks was still in his room. He’d been planning to get ahead on a problem set, so it wasn’t as if he needed to disturb you, but he also didn’t see himself falling asleep anytime soon. Chewing his lip, he noticed that the door was still slightly ajar and decided to retrieve the book as you must not have gone to bed just yet.

When his eyes first landed on your face, your brows were knit up in utter concentration as your hands worked feverishly under the covers. Your front teeth had your lower lip pinned down as you bit back the loudest of your desperate noises. Seungcheol’s pupils dilated as he registered what was happening. Frantically, he tried to back out of the room, but his sweater caught the edge of a pamphlet that had been hanging off the bookshelf, sending a handful of items clattering to the floor.

“Fuck!” your eyes shot open, panicked as you met Cheol’s gaze, “I’m, you-, help!” you squeaked, pulling the covers over your face as you wished to vanish off the face of the earth.

Seungcheol’s mind went blank as he walked towards you, placing his hands over yours to pull down the covers. You peered up at him through your eyelashes, so overcome with embarrassment that you failed to register the look of hunger in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry Cheol, I didn’t, I shouldn’t have done that here!”

“What?” he cocked his head to the side, brain not really functioning.

“It’s your bed!” you looked at him as if he was crazy, “I just-, you smell so good,” you spoke without thinking.

“I…,” he looked you up and down, “You’re telling me I inspired this?”

“Shit, I shouldn’t have said that, oh my god!” you groaned, trying to shrug under the covers again. Seungcheol’s large hands held you still and you watched in disbelief as he brought your left hand up to inspect it. The shine of moisture on your fingers was mortifyingly telling, but he surprised you to your core when he brought your hand to his mouth and sucked your wet fingers inside.

“Huh?!” you choked out, eyes fluttering shut as he tongue stroked between your digits, tasting you thoroughly.

“You should’ve told me about this sooner,” he told you, voice gravely with desire, “I’ve been torturing myself trying to ignore how much I think about you.”

“Oh?” you blinked at him in disbelief.

“Yes, oh,” Seungcheol rolled his eyes at you, “Now let me help, as you requested.”

His fingers wandered. His eyes widened slightly when he felt just how wet you were. The rumble that emitted from his chest almost sounded like a purr and you found yourself quickly breathless at his ministrations.

“Cheol,” you moaned, melting slightly as his substantially larger fingers swirled dizzyingly through your folds. He smirked down at you, more than pleased to hear your saying his name in that manner.

“So needy,” he chuckled, eyes flicking over you.

“Well I was halfway there when you walked in,” you teased him and his eyes flashed at you, a subtle warning.

He raised one eyebrow at you before sliding his fingers inside of you. You choked on your breath at the intrusion, though your legs parted asking for more.

“You-, your fingers!”

“Mm, how do they feel?” he smirked at you, confident.

“I knew they’d stretch me out, bigger than mine,” you panted and his eyes widened at the realization that this wasn’t the first time you’d imagined this.

“You think about me a lot?” he raised an eyebrow at you, now cocky.

“No,” you lied, glancing away to avoid his eyes.

“My thick fingers spreading you open,” he continued anyways, smirking when he felt the way you reacted around him.

“Seung-,” you whined, overwhelmed at the way he teased you.

“God I like hearing you say my name like that,” Seungcheol shook his head, as if in disbelief. “Can I see you?” he asked, other hand itching to peel back the comforter.

You nodded wordlessly. You were slightly mortified to reveal yourself to him in this way, but his other hand quickly distracted you. You watched his eyes rove across you appreciatively until they trained in on your bruise, his jaw clenching.

“I’ve been thinking about this all week,” he exhaled sharply.

“Why? It wasn’t on purpose!”

“No, it’s not-,” Seungcheol paused. “That’s not why. I was annoyed because the idea of getting to be the one to leave marks on you has rendered me…basically unable to produce coherent thought.”

“Oh? OH,” your eyes widened, gears in your brain turning. “I mean…all yours, Cheol,” you smiled sheepishly at him.

“Really?” he groaned, looking at you appreciatively as he thought about exactly where and how he’d like to mar your skin.

“Seungcheol!” you snapped at him as he continued to mumble to himself.

“Maybe a handprint here?” he grazed your upper thigh with his palm, eyes dancing mischievously at you. “Or a necklace of hickeys,” he growled as he nipped at the base of your neck. He had decided to seize the opportunity to tease you, and as much as you liked it, you only had so much patience.

“Cheol, please,” you pouted, grabbing at his collar, “I can’t take anymore of this.”

“Yes princess,” he pulled an old nickname out of the vault. You melted.

“Mmmpf!” he smothered your next protest with a kiss.

“Seung. Cheol!” you moaned desperately as his hand grabbed your thigh, hard.

The strength in his grip set your nerves alight and your head fell back against the bed, arching your chest up towards him. His mouth took the opportunity to latch onto the underside of your breast, biting down firmly. Your hand fisted itself in his hair.

It was so much sensation. It was so good.

“Hn,” he pulled back with a breathless smile. His eyes flicked down to the spots where his mouth and hand had been and his lips curled into a cocky grin at the bright red marks. With any luck those would be bruised nicely tomorrow.

“That was…a lot,” you murmured as you caught your breath.

“In a bad way?” Seungcheol’s brow furrowed with sudden worry.

“No,” you smiled at him, slightly fuzzy, “In a good way. A really good way.”

“Really?” his eyebrows raised back up with delight. “So you won’t mind if you bruise a little?”

“I don’t think I’ll mind even if you bruise me a lot,” you answered after some thought.

Your best friend’s eyes darkened. The way you had rearranged his words hit the possessive button in his brain like crazy. His lips nibbled and nipped their way down your torso while his hand came to cup your breast. His grip was on the hard side of firm as his lips latched onto a spot on your inner thigh. His tongue stroked across the sensitive skin as he sucked firmly.

Your thighs parted of their own accord as you squirmed at this building onslaught. As you shifted, you could hear the wet sounds of yourself spreading. Open and inviting.

“Cheol, please,” you tried to pull him towards you. “Please,” you panted.

Seungcheol, the bastard, increased the intensity of his sucking before releasing his lips with a loud ‘pop!’. The jolt of the disconnection sent a shiver through you and the spot where his mouth had been now felt woefully cool.

“Pretty,” he looked at the red mark appreciatively. The thought that you would be reminded of this encounter over the next weeks sent a streak of pride through him that was unexpected.

“Seungcheol!” you grabbed his face by his cheeks, directing his attention to you. “If you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to kick you out and take care of it myself!”

His eyes widened and he chuckled sheepishly before reaching over you to pull a condom out of the nightstand. You watched, almost painfully aroused, as he undressed and unrolled the condom over himself. His cock bobbed proudly as he pulled his sturdy torso over you, slotting himself between your thighs.

You sighed when his cock came to rest against your core. You could already tell it was going to be good.

“Seungcheol, please,” you placed your hands around his jaw. “Need you.”

He nodded, reaching down to slip himself inside of you. A soft gasp escaped you as his head pushed in and you couldn’t help but relish in the stretch. Seungcheol took his time sinking into you. The whines and gasps that you made were way too good to be rushed.

“Cheol,” your hands clutched at the back of his thick neck until he was pressed flush against you. “Fuck,” you exhaled into his ear.

Seungcheol’s hand was gripping your hip so hard as he struggled to keep control of himself. Of all the things that he found overwhelming, the way you pulsed and squeezed around him, the little sounds you made as he had pressed into you…the worst of all was the way you smelled. His hand fisted itself further in your hip as he inhaled you, a most intoxicating scent.

You clenched around him as his hand tightened. He was sure to bruise you there, too, and you couldn’t wait. Knowing that you’d be able to see these marks as evidence that this wasn’t another crush induced dream made you feel crazed in a different way.

“You feel perfect,” Seungcheol groaned against your skin as his hips started to move. “I just knew it.”

Clench.

You hooked your legs around his hips as he pumped into you deeply. Each thick stroke pushed you dangerously closer to the precipice and you were ready to fall off the edge.

“Cheol,” you pulled back slightly to meet his blown out gaze. “I’m there.”

“Go ahead,” he encouraged you, aching to feel you come apart around him. “Be good and come for me.”

Your eyes squeezed shut as you let go. Your hands clutched desperately at his shoulders as your pussy fluttered around him. You didn’t even know what kinds of sounds you made as you simply didn’t have the presence of mind.

“So good,” he smiled, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against yours. “So good,” he grunted before his hips shuddered and he emptied himself inside of you.

You wrapped your arms around his torso as he slumped down on top of you. He smiled when you gave him a squeeze with your entire body.

“So you’re kind of possessive, huh?” you chuckled softly after you’d regained your sanity.

Seungcheol squeezed his eyes shut with a laugh. He hadn’t realized it, or maybe it was just because it was you, but yes. Yes he was.

#scoups smut #seungcheol smut #svthub #seventeen smut #scoups fanfic #seungcheol fanfic #svt fanfic #seungcheol x reader #seungkwansphd:writes

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a-kaash-me-outside · 2 months

Text

˚₊‧ ᴡɪʟʟ ɪᴛ ʙᴇ ᴄᴀsᴜᴀʟ ɴᴏᴡ? ‧₊˚

♡ ft. geto, toji, gojo, higuruma, nanami ♡ total wc: 10.9k // nsfw minors dni! // ♡ contents: ౨ৎ 𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 ౨ৎ, afab reader she/her pronouns, no smut in gojos or tojis im sorry, emotionally stunted men kinda but they grow isnt that nice (not talking abt higuruma and nanami god no), the aftermath of fwb caught feelings, consolation, emotional aftercare ig, lotta domestic fluff for higuruma and nanami's!!!! (everyone say ty @noosayog for nanami's bc she is the only reason i wrote his) ♡ listen along: casual by chappell roan ♡

- ᡣ𐭩 time passes and people change, and just because you fell first doesn't mean you don't get a happy ending + bonus continuation of higuruma's and nanami's ᡣ𐭩 -

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ɢᴇᴛᴏ [ 3 ʏᴇᴀʀs ]

on the list of people that you thought you’d see tonight, geto isn’t even in the top 100, not because of probability or likelihood, but solely based on the fact that you have not thought about this man in years. if you were asked the question from your future self, “holy shit, guess who we saw tonight?” you would’ve listed old friends, distant relatives, exes, minor celebrities, other flings, teachers from high school, people from stories you’ve only heard of, and then geto.

after that night, you really didn’t see barely any of him. a few posts on your feed: one 2 weeks after and another 2 months after that one when you remembered that you forgot to unfollow him. once on campus: him across a million tables getting lunch with some girl too long after your little thing for you to care about who she was to him at all. once at a mutual (though you didn’t know was mutual at the time) friend’s party close to graduation: you ran into him grabbing a drink from the cooler and neither of you said a single word to each other, just exchanged a very knowing glance.

fast forward a handful of years, with geto not on your mind during a single one of them, and you’re stunned, nearly speechless, as you recognize him across the bar. the track of which your mind is racing takes you stop after stop to thoughts and feelings you didn’t really ask to experience. they follow a curving roadmap in your mind of: why is he here? ↝ wow, he looks great ↝ does he live nearby still? ↝ that’s weird ↝ no, it isn’t weird, i still live here ↝ then what are the fucking chances that he’s here ↝ no, seriously he looks so good

he looks different though, you realize about 3 minutes into sneaking glances in his direction, in some way that you just can’t put your finger on right now. in your slightly tipsy state, you barely stop to ask yourself how you even clocked that it was him so quickly, how there was no hesitance in the recognition or questioning in the placing. he looks really fucking good.

in fact, now that all of the obligatory thoughts have come to a heed, that’s really the only thing that you can think about. how good he looks.

the events that happened that ended your situationship all of those years ago are nothing but outlines now; whatever you said or he said just sounds like underwater conversations. you can see the way that you left and you remember being dumbfounded, but everything else has lost its sting, like a story you’d recall to a friend of a friend in a setting much like the one you’re in. time has handled the memory the way that time does and as a result, when the two of you finally make eye contact after what feels like an hour of missed mutual glances, you offer a small wave. a wave that says, “i remember only knowing you in past tense. we are such different people now, i wonder what it would’ve been like if we met now instead.”

the wave was the first step, technically, sure, but he makes the literal first step. he departs from the conversation he’s been enthralled with for as long as you’ve been stealing glances and he weaves between people in the middle of their own stories before ending up in front of you.

when he does, he asks, as if he’s just randomly bumped into you rather than intentionally coming over, “shit… is that you?” he puts his hand on the back of your chair, thumb brushing your shoulder.

the friend that you’re with cocks their head, furrows their eyebrows, has no idea who this is or their connection to you, the timelines of their interactions with you spaced too far apart for one to know the other. geto notices this look, addresses it. “we used to…,” he pauses, “see each other? for a little bit.”

you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from your chest at the way he describes it. “yes, yes we did,” you nod. “back in college,” you explain a little further, “been a while.”

the interaction quiets, the two of you exchanging soft smiles instead of words, and your friend knows where this thing is going before either of you even do, so they bow their head, offer their seat to geto, and take their leave in the name of some bullshit excuse. he takes it without a second thought, asking you how you’ve been, laughing about the time that you saw each other at that party, and after an hour of just talking he says, “yeah, i actually thought about you the other day.”

you nearly choke on the drink he’s bought you. you rush to put it down. “you did?” you ask.

he nods. “i don’t even remember what prompted it. i think, maybe, i saw a photo of myself from college and how different i looked and how different i feel now and then just, out of nowhere, remembered how shitty i was to you.”

you don’t say anything in return, running your finger around the lip of your glass as you stare at him. you don’t know how to say that you don’t care anymore, that you haven’t thought of those days in years, that the surprise that you displayed a few seconds ago was completely genuine, because you were so convinced that neither of you had. it comes out something like a shrug and, “we were practically kids.”

he answers so quickly, “well, kids or not, i’m sorry.”

you laugh, gently so he won’t think you’re laughing at his apology. really, you’re laughing at the notion of apologizing for an act that no longer warrants forgiveness. you laugh at the thought of giving it anyways. you place your hand on top of his on the edge of the bar. “thank you,” you nod. he nods back.

when you let him take you back to his place for old times sake, you’re half-expecting the same person from the ghosts of memories from years ago, like all of the things he said at the bar were just a last ditch effort to usher the night in the exact direction that it’s heading in.

but he’s different now, just like he said he was before he apologized, and you can feel it in his movements and his actions. more confident, more intentional. he kisses you first and it doesn’t taste selfish. it doesn’t feel rushed to get to the main event. he savors it, holds your head in his hands, and doesn’t touch a single other inch of your body until he’s found the right combination of fingertip pressure and tongue that has you melting into his palm.

your mind flickers to the notion that these actions might be pre planned because they feel so meticulous and thought out, but that impression quickly dissolves when he sinks inside of you, slowly, keeping his eyes locked on yours as he does, his hand reaching down to cup your cheek, fingers nearly trembling against your jaw when he presses his hips completely against the insides of your thighs.

“shit,” he hisses, hands moving down to your waist, fingers light like feathers practically crawling against your skin, as if each print was so grateful it got to make contact with the softness below. when he grips into the fat of your hips, he’s careful, intentional or not, pressing his thumbs into the bone, but not letting his nails leave a single mark. it’s pressured, but comfortable.

he holds you in place, slowly pulling his hips back and he can’t help but look down between your legs, watching himself disappear inside of you, a creamy mess at the base, shallow breaths recycled in his chest.

“hey,” you say, eyes locked on the tenseness of his jaw and the way that he stops himself with sharp inhales. he finds your gaze in a second. “don’t hold out on me here.” you rest your arm on his bicep, fingers curling around wherever they can reach.

you can feel it under your palm, his muscle tensing as his pace picks up, rhythm consistent, but unrelenting. the breaths come out of you quickly and you’re unable to hold any sort of facade. “ah- shit, f-fuck,” you cry, “holy shit.” you squeeze your eyes shut, swallowing harshly as strangled noises leave you without vetting a single one.

“n-no,” you shake your head, regretting it instantly as he slows down in response. you shake your head harder, “no, don’t stop, but- ah,” you groan, “your- you were- i meant,” you exhale a laugh, “let me hear you.”

his eyes widen slightly as he processes what you want from him, and then he listens. he leans down to kiss your lips and then your cheek and then your jaw and then your ear. yes, he’s fucking you better than you’ve ever been fucked in your entire life, but that’s not what makes you crumble. no, it’s his grunts and pants and breathy groans pressed right up against your skin.

you thread your fingers into his hair, twirling the ends of the locks between the tips, raking your nails down the base of his neck to the front, and then smoothing them down his chest. “more,” you mumble against him, and you’re not sure exactly what you mean, but he gives it to you, whatever it is. you’re certain he’d give you anything in the world right now if you just asked for it.

there’s a moment after when you’re lying there with him, shoulder pressed up against his, chest heaving, barely recovered, that you find yourself back in that college dorm. you don’t know why the tightness is rising in the hollow below your sternum, but it is. you remind yourself that you weren’t expecting anything from this anyway, so it doesn’t matter, but it does. you’re not sure if you just don’t want to be treated like that again or if it has something to do with geto being the one lying beside you.

when you turn your head to face him, he’s already looking at you. he doesn’t shy away in embarrassment, like it’s wrong that he’d be gazing at you after all of that. his features are steady, confident, strong. he smiles softly, brings his hand up to cup your cheek. “should we get breakfast in the morning?”

in the morning, you repeat in your head. you wait a beat, trying to come up with something to say, to proceed with caution or to discern his intentions or to at least not sound desperate, but all that comes out is, “in the morning?”

he nods, turning on his side so he can stare at you without his neck getting sore. he inches closer to you, kissing the top of your shoulder and then your temple. he drapes his arm over your stomach. “if that’s okay with you,” he says and then kisses you again.

“okay,” you nod back, lazy smile on your lips, eyelids heavy at the warmth surrounding you now as he pulls you closer to him. “yeah, sure,” you affirm, voice so soft and airy that the tightness in your chest is lifted away with the words, all that’s left is a hope you feel comfortable letting stick around.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᴛᴏᴊɪ [ 3 ᴍᴏɴᴛʜs ]

you are not expecting anyone. you have resigned yourself to a nice pair of pajamas and comfy socks and a warm cup of tea and a spot in the living room that you will only leave for a refill and bathroom breaks. you are tucked into the corner of your couch, back pressed up against the sturdy arm, legs crossed, and a throw blanket over your lap.

you are not expecting anyone, so the sound at the door should have felt a lot more jarring. well, it is jarring for a second, a few seconds actually, the echoing disruption bouncing off of the walls of your living room and back to you, but then the noises repeat themselves, like they’re on a looping track, and you realize that-

you know that knock. heavy-handed with a tight fist, back of the knuckles, not the tops. almost pittering out by the end of the three successions, like the first one is direct and assured, but the second and third don’t really bother keeping up. that knock almost makes you run to the door. if it were 3 months ago, you’d be skipping to the door.

but you hesitate for a few reasons. firstly because when the connection hits that you know that knock very well, you remind yourself to proceed with caution. secondly because it sounds the same but with a difference as small as a hairline fracture. you heard that knock far too many times during the span of a year and a half, and this one sounds almost completely identical, but there’s a half second pause between the first knock and the second knock and the raps feel less impatient.

you don’t have to look through the peephole to know who’s standing on the other side of the door, but you’re glad you do anyway. if for nothing else, it gives you a slight edge, you’re convinced, like you’ve seen him first, you have the upperhand now. at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

toji hadn’t contacted you since he left that day. no texts. no calls. no showing up at your apartment at 3 am. nothing. you kept telling yourself that you’d hear from him. when that didn’t happen, you started telling yourself that you didn’t care if you heard from him. you’ve actually been waiting for this moment, replaying what it would look like if he came back, the things you’d say to him and how you’d say them.

now, looking out at him just standing there, you’re frozen. every scenario you’ve replayed in your head, all of the emotional venting and blow out screaming that you’ve rehearsed and you can’t recall a single scene. you think about leaving him out there, about telling him to go away through the door or just pretending like you’re not home.

“i can see the shadow of your feet under the door,” toji calls out, muffled by the barrier between you guys, and yet it still rings out through your entire body.

you slowly open the door. though, even if it took an entire hour to open the door, you’re not sure it would’ve mattered. you don’t think time is something that could’ve prepared you for seeing him. seeing him didn’t even prepare you for seeing him. you don’t know what to say, so you don’t say anything, folding your arms over your chest. you just wait.

“i-,” he starts, but then immediately stops, half sighs/half scoffs as he leans his chest forward, eyes scanning the inside of your apartment, for what exactly you’re not sure.

“what, toji?” you ask, voice stronger- and more annoyed- than you anticipate it being. you’re grateful for that. “why are you here?”

“shit, this is already hard enough for me t-,” he says, shaking his head, corner of his mouth tugging upward in frustration.

you narrow your eyes, cutting him off, “sorry, this is hard for you?” you feel like laughing or strangling him more than you do crying, which is a desired outcome in this situation, you suppose. “you know that you haven’t talked to me in three months, right? you haven’t talked to me?” you ask, and you can feel your pulse in your wrist and your chest now, because the lines are coming back to you slowly, one by one, circling your brain, fueling your confidence.

“yeah, no, of course i know that,” he combats, like you’re the one that’s being an asshole right now.

you smooth your fingertips against your eyes, blocking the sight of him out for just a second before gesturing with your hand as you ask, “are you going to answer my question or…?”

“look, i said that this is hard enough as it is for me to just be here,” he snaps, and if you were a little less annoyed, if he hadn’t come at this whole thing exactly how he was, you might’ve clocked the desperation in his voice or the uncertainty in his pupils.

“do you know how fucking stupid you sound right now?” you ask. it’s a rhetorical question.

one week after he left, you were certain he was going to come back. you and toji had gone a week without seeing each other or even speaking. you had even gone two weeks. sure, the conversation felt much more serious and, sure, really deep down you knew this time was different, but still, you held out dumb hope.

one month after he left and you realized this was not just him being weird and distant. this was something brand new that you had never had to deal with before. you were still trying to figure out how to navigate it when the two month realization hit: that maybe he wasn’t coming back at all, ever, maybe you had done something wrong. if he had shown back up on your doorstep during that time this conversation would’ve gone very differently you think.

but he didn’t. he showed up at month three when your reaction to random memories of toji were no longer tears and guilt, but laughter and bitterness. there weren’t many things that toji could say right now that would warrant anything more than you standing in your doorway for 4 minutes or less.

“i-,” he starts, but then sighs. he looks left, down the hallway of your building, eyes shifting from object to object out of your view.

“please don’t waste anymore of my time,” you reply and it’s softer than you intend. you thought it’d come out angrier. that seems like a theme for you tonight: everything sounding different in your head. when he doesn’t reply, you start a countdown, promising yourself that when you make it to 15, you’ll close the door in his face. you only make it to 13.

“i’m not here to waste your time,” he says, with no air of disgust or annoyance, the first halfway decent thing he’s said to you tonight. “i-,” he huffs again, “i’m here to say sorry. and-,” he hesitates.

you wait, just listening. the longer that he hesitates, the more time you have to think about what he might say and how you’re standing with your door open for the entire floor to hear your conversation. you’re not sure what’s worse, having this conversation in the confines of familiar grounds or the openness of neutrality.

“and ask… are you already seeing someone else?” he finishes.

you’re dumbfounded, blinking at him slowly before responding in the only way you can think of right now, “goodnight, toji.” you shake your head, cursing yourself for expecting anything more.

“no,” he rushes to say and then stumbles over the rest, “i- i tried to see somebody else, quite a bit of other people actually…”

you scoff, squinting at him, saying more sternly this time, with an added attestation of closing the door in his face, “goodnight, toji.”

he reaches out with a quick reflex, grabbing the door before you’ve barely even moved it. “wait, no, i- fuck,” he mutters, scrambling, “can i just come in?”

“so that was your plan then?” you drop your hand from the door. “to come back here unannounced, be shitty to me, ask if i’m sleeping with anyone, tell me that you’ve slept with lots of people, and then ask if you can come inside?” you ask.

“i didn’t have a plan-,” he replies.

“clearly,” you interject.

“but i’m trying,” he finishes, and you’re waiting for there to be more, to explain exactly how this constitutes as trying, because you don’t really see that here.

“fucking christ, toji, you’re going to have to try harder than whatever the fuck this is,” you sneer.

“we- we had a good thing,” he tries again. you don’t understand how every time he opens his mouth it gets worse and worse. why are you even entertaining this anymore?

“fuck you, man,” you scoff, and it feels like all of the anger has left your body, and in the void where it once was present is nothing but disinterest.

“no, not like that,” he backpedals. maybe if he would say more than four words at a time, or four better words at a time, then you wouldn’t have to keep filling in the blanks or being pissed off or- “for the last six months of our relationship, i didn’t sleep with anyone else,” he admits like it’s the answer to all of your problems. the word relationship burns at the forefront of your mind so hard that you don’t realize what he’s said for 10 whole seconds.

“i, so what?” your voice is unconvincing even to your own ears. you had slept with other people even 2 months before that last day. that wasn’t the issue. you guys were allowed to sleep with other people. you had an explicit conversation about the fact that you could sleep with other people, something along the lines of, hey, we can see other people right? yeah, we’re not fucking dating. okay, just checking.

the so what, you had already answered for yourself, inner voice replying to your own question, screaming, you guys were exclusive, unknowingly to each other, for 2 whole months before you confessed and he left.

his answer is much different. he says, “so nothing really. i just- i needed you to know that.”

“well, what the fuck do you want me to do with that?” you ask, and it comes out bitter and discouraged, but what you really mean is, please tell me what you want, please, can you just tell me that you missed me.

“whatever you want,” he answers instead.

you take a deep breath, a million emotions coursing through your veins and up your throat. “you know what?” you say, and it doesn’t sound angry, it sounds playful, “no, seriously,” you smile and then you laugh, “fuck you, toji.” you close your mouth like you’re done talking, like that’s all you needed to say, but your heart disagrees, forces more words out into the air no matter how hard your jaw is clenched shut.

“you show up here and you’re an asshole and then you’re decent and then you say shit like that and then- then i ask you what you fucking want from this, what you’re trying to play at here and you tell me whatever i want?” you say, exasperated.

“what i wanted was for you not to leave me three fucking months ago. that’s what i wanted,” you spit, “i wanted you to tell me this shit three fucking months ago before i sat alone, by myself, sad and then angry, and the entire time, fucking missing you, you fucking asshole. that’s what i wanted.”

and then it’s there, out in the open, airing for the two of you to witness and to face, and no matter what happens, you know you’ve done everything and said everything that you’ve needed to. he’s quiet for a few moments and you let him be, not tapping your foot or rolling your eyes or being pissed off, but just letting it play out. if this is the last time you ever see toji, why not just let it play out?

“okay,” he says, and it’s soft in a way you’ve only ever heard from him one time in your entire relationship. “i’m sorry.” he pauses. “i really don’t know how to do this,” he admits and you believe him. it feels different from when he told you something along those lines earlier, but you have a feeling that this is what he was trying to say all along.

“do what?” you push, because your mind is making assumptions, but if he’s going to prove anything to you, he needs to start now.

“ask for forgiveness?” he says, like he’s thinking out loud, “apologize? date someone?” you don’t say anything. you’re looking for something more concrete than that. it takes a handful of uncomfortable seconds before he says, “actually care about someone.”

“and do you?” you ask.

his lips press into a thin line, his eyes shift from left to right again. you can feel him getting antsy with the conversation and he’s barely said one vulnerable thing. you look at him, eyes soft and pleading, silently begging him that if he’s grown from this, you’ll let him back in, you swear, but you’ve been hurt before and you know what you’re worth, so you’re going to need some sort of evidence as collateral. “yeah,” he mumbles, but it’s audible. “you,” he says like it isn’t obvious, and it’s quiet and daunted, but you really appreciate the effort.

“okay,” you say, and that’s all you say.

“okay?” he questions, confused. “that’s it?”

“yup,” you say, but your small smile and the fact that you’re not slamming the door in his face again gives away a bit more than that.

“can i… come in?” he asks, hesitant, like he’s still being tested.

you shake your head, hand gripped onto the edge of the door. “no,” you say, scrunching up your nose and furrowing your eyebrows. “because if you come in here, we’re going to have sex,” you admit, half because it’s the truth and half just to see the look on his face. (it’s worth it.)

“wait,” he says, placing his palm flat against your door, but not moving it. his hand is now inside of your apartment, the only part of his body that’s made it past this invisible barrier of hallway and your place. “that sounds like a great thing. why am i not allowed in?”

“because this is me having self-control,” you explain, placing a hand on his shoulder and pushing the small portion of him that’s crossed the division back into the hallway. when you feel his skin against your pinky, soft fabric of that familiar shirt underneath your palm, you almost make a fool of yourself right after you say the word self-control, but you remind yourself what’s at stake here, what you really want.

“i came all the way out here to see you-,” he starts, but he doesn’t make a move to replace his hand on your door, letting his arm fall back to his side. it’s for the better, too, because you’re not sure how much more self-control you have already, no matter how much you tell yourself about longevity and whatever.

“if you really care,” you interrupt him, using his few vulnerable words against him, “and you weren't just trying to sleep with me tonight,” you pause, letting those words sink in, “you will go home and you will call me tomorrow morning and we will get breakfast- the least sexy meal of them all- and then maybe coffee if i enjoy hanging out with you outside of just having sex with you, and then we will go from there.”

“i-,” he starts to protest, but you cock your head. the truth is, if he said another word, reached out and touched your cheek or your hip or really anywhere on your body, if he kissed you, or just walked inside of your apartment and sat down on your couch, you wouldn’t have stopped him. you might even have gotten breakfast with him anyways. he doesn’t know that, you don’t think, but even if he does, he doesn’t act on it. he bows his head slightly, conceding, and says, “okay. i will just… talk to you… tomorrow… then.”

you nod. “goodnight, toji,” you say, hand on the door, closing it as slowly as you opened it.

“uh, yea, night,” he says back. you won’t tell anyone, and neither will he, about the stupidest small smile you see on his lips as he leaves your apartment that night or the fact that he wakes up extra early the next morning, muttering under his breath about how ridiculous dating is before he calls you at 9:30 on the dot.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ɢᴏᴊᴏ [ 3 ᴡᴇᴇᴋs ]

being away from ɢᴏᴊᴏ feels like detoxing. not from like hard drugs or alcohol, but… coffee.

like you know it’s not necessarily good for you, drinking it every day, but it’s a habit you’ve had for a while now and you just can’t seem to break it. it’s not really hurting anything in your day-to-day and you’ve been doing it for so long that it’s probably fine to just keep doing it.

but out of nowhere it hits you that maybe drinking coffee as much as you do is a waste of money and even if you don’t feel the negative effects constantly in your daily routine, you remind yourself of the times where you could distinctly feel the thump of your heart and the unsteady of your hands. you recall the time that you stayed up all night for the promise of a cup of coffee to get you through the day. in every memory that you’ve ever had in your entire college career, you’re holding a cup of coffee.

so one day you make the choice to stop. you stop buying coffee from coffee shops and pods for your coffee maker and cups from diners and accepting free ones from friends. you don’t really need a good cup of coffee as badly as you think you do. and it’s stupid, you think, because it’s just coffee. it doesn’t mean anything. just because you’ve been drinking it consistently for quite awhile doesn’t mean it has any sort of hold over you. it’s just coffee.

but then the headaches come and the irritation sets in and nights are hard, but for some reason mornings are unbearable, and you feel antsy all the time and you haven’t left your room in the past three days and the only thing you want is a cup of fucking coffee and you can’t relapse with coffee; it’s fucking coffee.

yeah, being away from gojo feels a lot like detoxing from coffee.

you try to just not see him. it’ll be easier for you if you just don’t see him, you tell yourself. you go out of your way to avoid his walking path on campus and you refuse to leave your dorm when you don’t absolutely need to in fear of bumping into him or worse, just seeing him from afar, and god forbid you even come within three streets of the corner where his apartment resides. you block his number and you delete social media off of your phone for the time being, too many mutual friends to make casualties, and you do not let yourself think about him. not falling asleep, not when you wake up, not while you’re doing homework, not in your dreams or in the shower, not when something reminds you of him, not when you see his favorite show on your recently watched, not when you really need a good cup of coffee.

and it works for a while.

but not forever.

three weeks into your detox and you’re doing such a good job at not thinking about gojo that you mix up his monday schedule with his tuesday schedule and on your way back to your dorm, you see him. if you keep walking at the same pace that you’re walking, you will collide with him. if neither of you do anything, one of you will get hurt.

you look down at your phone, hoping, in the forefront of your mind, that he didn’t see it was you. (in the back of your mind, you’re hoping that he’s the one to break the longest bout of silence the two of you have had since you met.) when you sneak a glance, he’s already almost reached you, jogging to catch up with you. “hey,” he calls out, just in case you haven’t seen him.

“hi,” you say, stopping in place and letting him approach you.

“i’ve been trying to get ahold of you,” he offers, like you wouldn’t have known that.

“oh, sorry, haven’t been on my phone,” you lie. he knows that you’re lying. he can tell that you’re lying, so you don’t really know why you lie in the first place. maybe to prove a point. maybe to make him feel bad.

“look, about…,” he trails off, trying to remember how long he’s been without you, “about that… day…,” he opts for instead.

you put your hand up, waving the topic off. you mean to say something like, don’t worry about it, see you later, but it comes out like, “we don’t have to talk about that here.” here. fucking here. if you would’ve left those four letters out, it would’ve been a perfect line to walk away with, but you don’t. your stupid coffee-craving brain tacks it on, hopeful.

“right,” he says, nodding, “should we get coffee maybe, then, or?”

it’s not out of the ordinary, or it didn’t used to be, but now it feels taboo. you want to snap and ask him if he’s sure, because coffee sounds a bit too much like a date for people that aren’t together, but you realize very quickly that the irritation from your coffee detox is maybe a little bit too much to hold in without any closure. “sure,” you agree, “i just got done with class so we cou-.”

“i know,” he says, because three weeks hasn’t erased your schedule from his brain either.

you order an iced tea. you’re still convinced you’re done with coffee for good. he looks surprised at your choice, like he’s never seen you order an iced tea before, because he hasn’t, but he doesn’t say anything. you sip on it throughout unpleasant pleasantries and it’s refreshing, but it’s lacking something. in fact, the longer that you drink this stupid drink that has caffeine anyways and isn’t as good, the irritation bubbles higher and higher until- “can i start?” you ask, tapping your fingers against the table in rhythmic succession.

“yeah, sure,” he says, bringing his coffee to his lips and taking a sip.

“if at any point in this conversation your answer to anything i have to say is that we weren’t together, i don’t think we should have this conversation,” you reason, and you mean it, but his reaction takes you aback. you notice the smallest flinch when you say weren’t.

“i wasn’t-,” he shakes his head, sighing, “no, i wasn’t going to say that.”

“okay,” you say, dragging your fingertips along the condensation on the side of your glass. “then what were you going to say?”

he thinks for a minute, like he didn’t assume that he’d get this far when he brought up the idea of coffee. “i wanted to stop you from leaving,” he says.

“but you didn’t,” you rebuttal.

“i didn’t,” he affirms. it’s quiet again. you can hear the scrape of the cups against the table as they’re picked up, drank from, and put back down. the chatter in the coffee shop drones over the sounds of hesitance and nerves. “i’m sorry,” he says after a while.

“so, do you think we were together?” you ask, “and be honest. i’ll know if you lie.” you search his face as he answers, and the only thing that comes up is another flinch when you talk in past tense again.

“yeah,” he says, honest. “being apart from you these past three weeks has been one of the shittiest things i’ve ever been through.”

“ever?” you ask, quirking your eyebrow, as if it isn’t somewhat true for you too.

he nods in response, continuing, “it’s been hard.” he pauses. “i’m sorry i was so shitty.”

“pretty shitty, yeah,” you agree, but you can’t hide how nice it feels to just talk with him again, to call him shitty and to sit across from him at a coffee shop table. “i’m sorry i ghosted you these past few weeks,” because it deserves to be said too.

“i really missed you,” he says, and he doesn’t hide from it. he looks you directly in your eyes and you can tell that he wants to reach across the table and hold your hand. you want that too.

“me or just, like, sleeping with me?” you ask, somewhat terrified of the answer, scanning his face for the truth once again.

he laughs softly and, try as you might, you can’t stop the fluttering in your stomach or the warmth in your cheeks hearing that for the first time in too long. “please, i haven’t thought about sleeping with you once,” he jokes.

“oh, no? not at all?” you ask, scoffing lightly, a tiny smirk threatening to break.

he forces a thoughtful frown, shakes his head dramatically and says, “can’t say that i have.” you’re laughing now, but through smile-squinted eyes you can still tell that he’s actually being genuine. “not really,” he says.

“so just me then?” you ask to make sure.

“just you,” he affirms. “a lot of just you.” you hum, content with his answer, but he gives you even more than thought he ever could, “i don’t want to just go back to the way things were. i don’t think that’s enough for me anymore.”

even though you’re sure a response like this would’ve sent waves of shock through your entire body, it doesn’t. it just feels right. you reply quickly, “good. i don’t think it’s enough for me either.” you reach across the table. the back of your hand brushes against his, and then past it. you wrap your fingers around the handle of his coffee cup and bring it to your lips.

he doesn’t protest or snatch it away from you or make a snarky comment. he places his chin in the palm of his hand, elbow against the surface of the table, and smiles at you. you take a sip from his mug, warmth spreading through every bit of your body.

why would you deprive yourself of coffee when it brings you so much comfort?

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ʙᴏɴᴜs! ʜɪɢᴜʀᴜᴍᴀ [ ɴ/ᴀ ]

you’re not exactly sure how many times something has to happen before it becomes a theme.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“do you -huff- want to -huff- have kids someday?” higuruma asks from beneath you, palms resting on the tops of your knees, thumbs massaging up to the insides of your thighs.

you slow your bounces and then you stop them completely. you blink at him once and then twice. “that is a really wild thing to ask while you’re inside of someone,” you scoff, searching his face for any kind of tone indicator. is he being serious? is he just saying something to get a rise out of you? is this a kink thing?

he smirks, placing his hands on your hips, coaxing you to continue your movements, and you do. you lift yourself off of him, slowly at first, but then picking up speed as you chase the feeling you lost when he asked the question. you’re breathless when he asks again, the repeated question no longer stilling you. the second time around it feels almost normal. “do you?” he asks on his exhale.

you shake your head and then tilt it side to side, closing your eyes so all of the conflicting fast paced movements don’t dizzy you. “i- don’t- know-,” you huff, “maybe- conversation- for- a- different- setting.” each word is punctuated by the slap of your thighs against his hips. he nods, completely okay with that answer, and then just drops it.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“shit,” you say in realization, hips circling, fingers combing through his hair. you pull your head away from his shoulder, pushing yourself up to look him in the eyes. “wait, how did your meeting go today?” you ask, and this time neither of you miss a beat.

when he slows to think about it, you pick up his slack, rolling your hips, feeling the drag of him inside of you, a breathy moan floating up your chest. he answers over your noises, “really good actually.”

“everything as planned?” you ask further, genuinely just as invested in this as you are in the act.

he nods, smiling. “yeah, to a t,” he says, wrapping his arms around your lower back and pulling you against his chest. he kisses the side of your temple, holding you in place with a tight grip as he lifts his hips off of the bed, thrusting into you. “surprised you didn’t ask as soon as i came through the door.”

you shake your head against his shoulder, placing a soft kiss against his collarbone. “was thinking about it all day,” you explain. he fucks into you faster in response and it feels like a reward for caring about the things that are important to him. “but when- shit- when you got home…,” you grunt, “it completely- ah, fuck- completely slipped my- ah- mind, s-sorry.”

“ts alright, pretty.” he nudges his nose against your cheek, peeling your attention to his face. your cheek rests against his shoulder and you blink at him, focus dipping from the topic at hand as you feel that familiar tightening in your core. he can see it written all over your face, so he drops his head to kiss you, silently communicating that you don’t have to worry about finishing the conversation right now. he’ll bring it up again in a bit.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“should we get married?” he asks, back up against the headboard, looking you directly in your eyes, gaze following yours as you rise and fall.

“you are not proposing to me while i’m riding you,” you say, shaking your head, but you don’t still or slow. conversations like this in a setting like this just don’t phase you anymore. honestly, it wouldn’t surprise you if he did propose right now. you’re not even sure you’d say no.

the corner of his lip tugs upward and he exhales a laugh as he leans forward the smallest bit to kiss you. “i’m not, i’m not,” he assures, “why? would you say no?”

you’re quiet for a minute, not because you don’t know the answer, but to keep him on his toes. you won’t lie to him, you don’t think, but you don’t want to come right out and say it. his questions are rhetorical anyways, half-jokes that he’s not expecting serious answers to; you’ve known higuruma well enough and long enough to be confident of that. you could’ve replied with an eye roll and a scoff and nothing else and he would’ve dropped it. instead, however, you answer, “course not. i’d say yes in a second.”

he nearly comes inside of you right there.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

maybe it becomes a theme when someone points it out.

you can’t tell if it’s intentional or not, the way that the two of you keep having these serious conversations during sex. you know that you don’t do it on purpose; things will just hit you during the repetitive motions and you worry you’ll forget them and you know that higuruma won’t judge you for just saying them, so you do. whether this is the case for him, you’re not sure.

but the interruptions just keep getting more casual. it starts with big conversations: weddings and promotions and thoughtful decisions, and then it’s like you just start remembering things in this position: work drama and mundane did you knows. it’s almost as if starting with big topics just made it seem so easy to talk about anything like this.

it didn’t help, you think, that it’s just always easy to talk about anything with higuruma. you guys have been together, officially together, for over four years now, and conversation, no matter the topic or severity or setting, is something you’ve never struggled with. you continue to not struggle with it, inside of the bedroom and out.

you’re not sure what about the position and the moment makes you so susceptible to remembering little things that you want to tell higuruma when he’s not around, and vice versa. in fact, you’re not even convinced that it’s something about the action that jogs your memory anyway, it’s probably just a really weird and common coincidence.

and then one night you can’t find your keys.

you’ve searched everywhere for them, in your car, in your bag, every nook of your room, the places where they normally are, higuruma’s coat pocket just in case, and then everywhere else in your guys’ apartment. they’re nowhere to be seen.

when higuruma walks through the front door, even from where you’re searching in the kitchen, you hear him let out an elongated, “woah.”

you pop your head into the doorway, “don’t say anything about the mess.” you can see his eyes resting on the overturned couch cushions and then on the various opened drawers. “hey,” you warn, pointing towards him as you walk quickly into the living room. you throw your arms around him tightly and give him a small greeting peck. it’s routine at this point; if you don’t do it your whole night feels off. “i said don’t say anything.”

he lets you hang off of his neck as he puts both hands up in surrender. “i didn’t say shit,” he says, pressing a kiss into the side of your neck, then moving his hands to your waist, “the fuck happened here though?” he laughs against your skin and you can feel the vibrations travel to your fingers and toes.

you pull away from him, shaking your head. now that you’re back in the living room, it’s like you have to start this room’s search over too. you start checking under the couch and in the hall closet. “lost my fucking keys,” you grumble, smoothing your palms over your face, “i swear i’ve looked everywhere. i just can’t remember where i left them when i got home.”

“did you check th-,” he asks, walking into the kitchen, grateful that you’re not in there with him or he knows you’d yell at him for the way his eyes go wide at the clutter and chaos everywhere.

you cut him off, “wherever you’re about to say, probably yes, ughhh. i’ve retraced my steps, i’ve looked in places that are fucking stupid to look in like every pair of shoes we own and in the fucking guest bedroom pillowcases. i’ve looked everywhere.”

from where he’s stood in the kitchen now, he can see you scrambling as you vent. he leans against the wall, “well, not everywhere or you would’ve found it by now.”

“i’ll kill you,” you say, eyes snapping up to meet his to show how serious you are.

he just laughs, “i’ve got a pretty good lawyer, you might not want to do that.”

“good legal can’t help you when you’re dead,” you snap, almost completely joking. he meets you back in the living room, helping you check all the places you’ve already checked.

15 minutes pass and then 35 and then he stops abruptly. “oh my god, i have an idea,” he says, and you look at him, hopeful. “you know when you usually remember things?”

your first reaction is joking annoyance, picking up a throw pillow and sending it his way. he catches it and sets it back down on the couch. “i’m serious!” he yell-laughs.

you throw another pillow at him as your second reaction sets in. “that’s not going to fucking work,” you say.

“how do you know?” he asks.

“because,” you say, trying to come up with a good answer other than just blind doubt, “because i don’t remember things while i’m riding you. it’s not a fucking superpower.”

“you don’t know that,” he jokes back and braces to be hit with another pillow. “okay, okay, but i’m being serious! besides, what’s the worst thing that can happen? you don’t remember and we’ve had sex, how horrible,” he reasons.

you let your arms fall, pillow in your hands resting against the tops of your thighs. you look at him, thinking, which, in hindsight, was a dumb thing to do, because higuruma can see the contemplation on your face.

eight minutes later and he’s inside of you and you’re the most embarrassed you’ve ever been.

“this is so stupid,” you mumble. you haven’t moved an inch after slowly lowering yourself onto him. you’re fully seated against his hips, hands smoothing over your face and then lingering there, covering.

he reaches up, fingers soft and kind as he wraps them around your wrists, pulling them away from your face. “ts not stupid,” he reassures, but you’re not convinced. you groan, turning to look away from him, but that just won’t do. he reaches up again, soft grip on your chin coaxing your gaze back to his. “hey,” he says softly, “just focus here, angel.”

you listen, somewhat, mind still flickering back to why you’re even riding him in the first place. “just enjoy yourself, okay,” he tries again, rolling his hips upwards, pressing himself inside of you as deep as he can. you close your eyes, and it’s quite easy to just focus on the feeling of being as full as you are right now. “good,” he whispers, “just like that.”

it doesn’t take long for you to lose yourself completely, moving on your own, letting the whimpers and whines take over any other thought you might think to say, chasing that feeling rather than worrying about whatever you’ve lost.

it all kinda clicks at once: where your keys are and why you always remember shit when you’re like this.

in the midst of everyday noise, so many things get lost: important and unimportant thoughts alike. but now you’re not worried about anything else. you don’t care about anything else right now. you don’t have to. you don’t want to. and in this state of letting everything go, mindless and blissful, some things slip back through the cracks.

you collapse onto higuruma’s chest, spent and happily aware of this new revelation that you have not, for once, shared in the middle of sex, but kept quiet as a come down surprise. you hum softly as he rubs up and down your back, hum again as he presses a kiss into your forehead. “m sorry it didn’t work, angel,” he murmurs.

you turn your head, ear pressed right against his heart as you gaze up at him. “i left them in the fridge,” you reveal, and he knits his eyebrows together.

you assume that he’s going to say something about how did you leave them in the fridge? or why are they there? but instead he questions, “what? and you didn’t tell me until now?” like you’ve harbored a life long secret. you laugh softly, snaking your hands up and scratching your nails against his scalp, playing with the ends of his hair. “don’t think this is going to get you out of it,” he says, “‘ts my favorite thing when you just blurt shit while you’re on me.”

you can feel the warmth in your cheeks and your chest as you breathe a laugh. “you’ve never told me that before,” you murmur.

“think it’s cute when you just can’t wait to tell me things,” he says, “feels more intimate than being inside of you.”

“ew,” you say, scrunching up your nose, even though you weirdly agree.

he just laughs in response. a few seconds of quiet comfort pass before he backtracks, “wait, why the fuck are your keys in the fridge?”

and you tell him all about it, about the day that you’ve had and how you remembered you hadn’t drank enough water so you were refilling your bottle from the pitcher in the fridge as soon as you got home from work, but your hands were full so you set your keys on top of the leftovers from yesterday, but then you had to go and set everything down and the fridge closed and by the time you left the kitchen you remembered you needed to do something else… and it just keeps going.

you tell him as you’re taking a shower and as you’re eating dinner together and as he’s brushing his teeth and you’re washing your face and laying in bed and setting your alarms. every room in the house is a mess, but you’ll deal with that later, you decide. you rest your chin on his shoulder. “and how was your day?” you ask, even though the clock reads much later than it should for how much sleep you both should get before you’re up early for work tomorrow.

nevermind that, he decides, and tells you all about it anyways.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ʙᴏɴᴜs! ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ [ ɴ/ᴀ ]

“can i ask you something and when i ask you, you’ll know i don’t mean anything bad by it at all because i love you more than everything in the world?” you ask, putting down your phone only after you’ve finished your sentence.

you wait a few seconds for nanami to take in what you’ve asked. he reaches over to the night stand for his bookmark and sticks it between the pages. he shuts it with an audible shuffling of paper and a sharp thump.

nanami has been with you long enough to not typically be surprised by your out of the blue… questions. (dronings? is there a word like droning but the connotation is more positive? like you talk at him a lot and he loves to hear the ramblings in your brain, but sometimes he is just trying to read his book before bed. whatever that word is.)

he places the book on his lap and then turns his chest towards you completely. you now have his full attention. “is that a yes?” you ask.

he inhales deeply, “if i say no, will you still ask it?”

you think on the answer to that question, really mulling it over before shaking your head. “no, i don’t think so.”

“then yes,” he smirks, “i suppose i have to say yes then.”

“great,” you say, tossing your phone onto your bedside table with a clunk. you sit up straighter, rocking forward to fully adjust your position on your side of the bed. you put your hand on his thigh and cross your legs, letting your knee rest on the side of his comforter covered hip. “do you ever regret not dating more?”

it definitely takes him by surprise. he thought you might drop another weirdly specific hypothetical about would he love you if… or request a glass of water even though you already told him tonight when he was getting into bed and he asked if you wanted one, that you did not.

now he’s the one mulling over your question and despite how nerve wracking it could be to wait for an answer to a what if that involves not you, you’re not anxious in the slightest. you’re quiet, just waiting for his answer, and when he finally speaks, you know exactly why you weren’t scared in the first place, “i’ve honestly never thought about it since i met you.”

“really?” you ask, and you’re mostly feeling very lucky that nanami is yours and you are his, but there is an underlying feeling of guilt that he’s unintentionally caused with this statement.

he nods. “sounds like you have though,” he says, and it’s not even a little bit judgmental. it sounds like he’s imploring you to keep talking, like he wants to hear exactly what you’re thinking, why you brought it up in the first place.

“i wouldn’t trade this security, this love, exactly what we have, you for anything in the world,” you start to explain, and it’s nothing but the truth, “but sometimes i just think about that first night when we were in that bar. the flirting, the risks, that feeling of not knowing where the night is going to end up. sometimes i think about that a little bit.”

he hums, thinking about that night, and after a few seconds of silence, he speaks up again, “first date nerves,” he nods, “now that i think about it, i miss those.”

you cock your head at him. that’s a weird part of dating to miss, you think, but then he explains further, “like when we went out on our first date and i didn’t know what you were going to wear or if you liked the restaurant i picked or if you’d let me pay for your food.”

“or if i’d take you back to mine,” you joke, raising your eyebrows at him, but really you’re burning inside. your cheeks feel warm just hearing about these feelings he’s never mentioned to you before.

“yeah, that too,” he laughs, getting back on track, “like, i’m still finding out new things about you all the time, but back then i was discovering who you were every second we were together, and that- that felt like…”

“like finding out soulmates were real?” you ask, because that’s what it felt like to you, that same exact phenomenon he’s describing. he smiles at you warmly, like you’ve just put to words what he felt he could only experience. “i know what you mean,” you smile.

he leans forward, cupping your cheek with his hand and guiding you towards him. he kisses you softly, placing his other hand on your other cheek and kissing you harder. “should we go on a first date again?” he asks against your lips, barely pulling away to speak.

you laugh, but when you pull away, you can tell he’s not joking. “what?” you ask, “what do you mean?” you’re already blushing though, already feeling the exact first date nerves he was just talking about.

“let’s go on a first date,” he repeats himself. “i’ll pick you up at your front door and i’ll choose the restaurant and it’ll be a surprise and i’ll ask you questions that i’d ask you on a first date even if i know the answers to all of them and more at this point.”

you’re smiling so big that your cheeks are sore as you nod fervently at the concept. “okay, yeah,” you agree.

“right, so we probably shouldn’t kiss or make out or sleep with each other until then to really play into the whole thing?” he teases, and you roll your eyes in response.

“you’re very funny, kento,” you say, leaning in, brushing your nose against his. he doesn’t even last a second, closing the gap with a small peck and then another and then another and then a much longer one and then he’s putting the book on his nightstand so he can pull you into his lap.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

you get a text 5 minutes before 7 that nanami is going to be 3 minutes late picking you up. the text looks a little weird underneath a thread of:

>> nami <3 >> how’s work baby

<< read << if you love me you’ll come and pull the fire alarm to get me out of here early :) :) :)

>> nami <3 >> fine but that’s a class four felony in some cases. will you be providing legal assistance or should i look elsewhere????

<< read << how do u know that?? nerd!!!

>> nami <3 >> google tbh.

<< read << wow. first i have to stay at work all day alone and sad and now i get to know my bf isn’t sexy and off the dome smart about everything. :(

>> nami <3 >> goodbye.

<< read << :(

>> nami <3 >> i love you

<< read << :)

you bite back the urge to reply with something you’d say to him after knowing him for years. rereading the text and thinking back to your first date, it makes you giggle. actually, it makes you kinda nervous. you text back a polite no worries! take your time! and he replies with a heart and you truly feel like you’re dating for the first time again. you feel honest to god giddy.

arriving to the restaurant, you are genuinely surprised. you thought after knowing him as long as you have and having gone to as many restaurants with him as you have, you’d go back to somewhere nice you’ve already been. but that isn’t the case.

he drives you to a pop-up restaurant 20 minutes out of town that you’ve never even heard of, but is the cutest place you’ve ever been, and the entire time he can’t stop sneaking respectful glances at you. he won’t stop telling you how nice you look. he even apologizes for it by the sixth time, pushing your chair in at the restaurant saying, “i know i keep mentioning it, and i’m sorry, but if i said it every time i thought it, it’d be a never ending string.”

if he keeps this up, you’re going to feel like you’re cheating. this seriously feels like a first date, like you’ve been in a relationship for over 5 years and you’re also going on a first date and it’s really messing with your head, but you never want it to stop.

he stays true to his word, asking you questions he already knows the answers to, but hearing them again, they sound brand new. he doesn’t know if he’s just forgotten some of them or if the testaments of time have weathered your answers just enough to sound unfamiliar, but either way, he’s hanging on to every word.

by the end of the night, you’ve truly convinced yourself that there are stakes to this date, like if you play your cards wrong, you won’t get to keep seeing this incredible guy. he pays the whole bill, even though you insist on getting your meal or at the very least dessert. he says, “you can try next time too.” and you can’t breathe, you feel so lucky.

“i’m sorry if this seems forward, but i’d really like to keep seeing you tonight,” you say as the waiter takes away the paid bill, and your heart is thumping so violently against your chest, you swear he can feel it too.

he shakes his head, “perfectly forward,” he smiles, “your place or mine?” you break character for the first time tonight, giggling at the reality of the question, hiding behind your hand as you do. “what’s so funny?” he asks, but he’s grinning just as big as you are.

“just thinking about how dreary my life would be if i hadn’t gone on this first date,” you say, and it’s a little too meta, but he’ll let it slide, because he’s a bit flustered at the sentiment. “mine is great,” you answer, placing your hand on his, rubbing the tips of your fingers against his knuckles.

everything about the rest of the night feels like a first too. it feels like your first kiss in front of your front door. it feels like he’s seeing “your” apartment for the first time. it feels like you’re making out on your couch for the first time.

it feels like the first time he’s ever been inside of you.

when he pushes deeper into you, eyes on yours shut tight, you tell yourself that you want to pretend you’re on a first date every single day of your life. you can’t stop whimpering, pleading for him to never stop fucking you ever, please don’t stop, please never fucking stop.

you break character for the second time when you’re right on the edge. he keeps looking down at you with so much love in his eyes and his hands all over you feel like they know every inch of you, and you can’t stop yourself. you grab his face in your hands, “kento, baby, please, ‘m gonna- ‘m sorry, i- fuck, please. i love you, fuck,” you whine, and he can’t stop himself either, hips stuttering, head falling against your shoulder as he feels you clenching around him as he empties himself inside of you, murmuring how much he loves you right back.

the way you’ve been feeling all night: blissful and coy, it’s not because it’s a first date, it’s because he’s nanami. it’s because he’s orchestrated the entire night and no matter how “new” everything feels, the underlying foundation of that newness, and the reason everything feels so good, is familiarity and safety.

“i’m sorry that i-,” you breathe, but he stops you, reaching his hand up to drag his fingertips against your lips, and you laugh, pressing a soft kiss into them. “okay, okay,” you say, and he places his hand back down by his side. “done with the first date stuff, just want to be yours again,” you murmur.

he scoffs, light, and you can hear his smile in it. he falls over onto his back, pulling you into his chest and kissing the top of your head. “never weren’t,” he mumbles against your hair. “always will be,” he mumbles again, holding you tighter.

“good,” you say back, settling into his arms like that’s the only thing you know to be true in the entire world. you wouldn’t trade that truth for a million first dates.

sure, holding your breath at quick witted flirts and stolen glances is nice, but it’s a lot nicer just knowing that you will never be loved better and you will never love harder.

♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡ no bc the yelling really worked very well idk yell at me more to write a continuation for toji (maybe also gojo bc hes the only one i havent written even an inkling of smut for) idk i'm just thinking of so many scenes idk throw hcs at me in my inbox IDK! toji dating for the first time? got me fucked UP

ᡣ𐭩 ᴛᴀɢs ᡣ𐭩 @igocrazyeveryday @vernasce-blogs @minty86 @abrielletargaryen @pompompompompompompom @mysticrays @lilolpotato @thisisew @pnkoo @optimisticsandwichgladiator @ryumurin @cisseadven @multi-fandom-fanfic @noosayog @anxious-chick @mintleafwrites @(tried to tag some other folks but couldnt!!)

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #toji x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #geto smut #toji smut #gojo smut #nanami x reader #nanami smut #higuruma x reader #higuruma x reader smut #higuruma smut #nanami x reader smut #jjk x reader smut #actually not really tbh theres no smut in tojis or gojos cant even lie #toriwritesshit

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