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tiyoin · 3 months

Text

📍pt 1 | pt 2.

no thoughts just thought about twst’s other mc

you were friends with yuu in your original life. two halves of a whole.

but you were shyer when it came to new people while yuu was more out going. so you couldn’t help but watch enviously as yuu started getting friends- a lot of them- right off the bat.

of course you were still best friends, always making time for each other no matter how hard it was to.

once a week you and yuu would spend the whole day together no matter who you ran into.

ace and deuce? great! they joined the party! but you wouldn’t even look at them nor talk to them out of pure anxiety.

of course you’d talk to them if they spoke to you first. have a little wave everytime they greeted you.

it took you 1 monthh to be able to be able to greet them on your own.

or! if the infamous leech twins were to interrupt your yuu time you would always cling to them as the two green giants would intimidate you.

didn’t help that you could feel their eyes linger on you either. your eyes always meeting theirs if they happened to say something that made you laugh out loud.

of course they picked fun at you for not talking, or barely talking.

“oh? y/n i didn’t know you could talk”

“ehhh, i forgot you were here”

was something you got on the daily. yuu would laugh it off and sling their arm around your shoulder, telling whomever about how much of a chatter box you were! always finished it off by cooing at you and saying ‘how you were shy’ around people, especially guys.

you were in hell to be fair.

although, you were able to make your own friends; like silver. you were the only ones not paired up for the joint potionology lesson.

silver because he was sleeping, and you because yuu was swarmed by their other friends and you went to the bathroom when he announced it was a pair up.

you had counted before and there was an odd number of people. so if you went to the bathroom everyone would have to pair up and when you came back you’d be able to work alone!!

sound proof plan right! turns out one of the leeches snuck into the class when they weren’t supposed to so your headcount was slightly off.

when you say next to silver you debated waking him up. looking to yuu nervously they shrugged, motioning you to wake him up.

but he looked so… peaceful. so you started doing the work on your own, like how you intended. you kept sneaking peeks at him as the minute hand ticked on.

crewel was too busy with another group (ace and deuce) to really bother with you or silver-

“oh-“

gasping, your head snapped to sliver’s as your startled eyes met his groggy ones. his eyes individually blinking as he yawned.

“are you-”

“we uh, got paired up for a project…”

he sat up right, clearly surprised as he looked around. seeing all the pairs hard at work, he looked at your chemistry set with guilt.

“i’m sorry for sleeping, i didn’t even know we were paired together. you could’ve woke me up”

you smiled slightly, shaking your head as you struggled to meet his eyes. “don’t worry about it, i was planning on working alone but counted wrong, and you seemed so peaceful that i didn’t have the heart to wake you”

he sighed, slouching over his seat “i appreciate it, but next time don’t be afraid to wake me up, okay?”

you nodded as you flipped the paper to catch him up.

it was nice talking to someone other than yuu for once. someone who wasn’t as boisterous and a handful. someone who didn’t have trouble follow them like a shadow. yeah it was different, but you’d take any different slice to mix up your mundane life.

you didn’t know if it was sliver, or an instant connection, but you both slowly drifted from the topic and started talking about sleep. your lack of and his overabundance of.

“you’re kidding?? you fell asleep on your horse?? i’m sorry- i shouldn’t laugh” your head threw back as you tried holding back your laughter. silver chuckled, cheeks and ears turning a soft peachy hue, he shifted his bangs between his thumb and pointer finger. silver was recounting the tale of when he fell asleep on his horse during an equestrian club practice, causing the horse to run off with him still attached.

opening your eyes a bit, you saw more than one person staring at you. matter of fact, it seemed like almost the whole room was looking in your general direction. instinctively, you shut your mouth and hunched over yourself as you cleared your throat. staring down at the paper, you erased a sentence before re-writing. your body felt like it was on fire as you bit your lip nervously.

fuck, that was humiliating.

“you should laugh more”

your eyes shot up to silvers. he had a slight smile as he looked at you through his bangs, he flicked his eyes down to keep writing which only lasted a moment longer as his eyes fluttered before he lifted his head.

“you always seem so… depressed”

“ouch” you grumbled, yet he kept going

“you wouldn’t be so alone here if you smiled and laughed more, believe me, you have a wonderful smile and a contagious laugh”

‘no shot he’s fucking rizzing me’ you gasped internally as you felt your cheeks get redder. you fought back the urge to fan yourself as you felt your clothing on your skin.

everything seemed too much, the lights, your clothes, the table, his eyes.

“are you okay y/n?”

you nodded, before quickly shaking your head as your breathing picked up.

1,2,3 1,2,3 you repeated to yourself as your fingers took alternating taps against your thumb.

“let me take you to the nurse”

“i-im fine, really, thanks” you blurted out, standing up before beelining it to crewel. even as your legs carried you swiftly through the isles, you felt eyes rake the back of your body, scan every part of your being.

lord you just wanted to burst out into tears. never late to the party, your vision blurred as tears threatened to slip from your waterline down to your cheeks.

change of plans, you walked past crewel who was busy helping yuu’s group to notice you quickly shuffling to the door.

opening it gently, you all but slipped through the crack. closing it softer than you opened it, you side stepped to the wall and just- breathed.

oh you thought it was cute breathing? HAHAHAHHA. wrong

gasping for breathe, you looked down the hallways. once reassuring that it’s all clear you speed walked down the corridor. you heard a door open behind you as you kept your pace, you didn’t know where you were going but you needed space.

“y/n!” your body jerked to stop, but you kept walking. you couldn’t recognize the voice and you figured ‘hey there’s probably like 20 y/n’s here, they’re probably not talking to me!’

“y/n! wait up!!”

looking back, you saw a blob of brown hair quickly make its way towards you.

slowly, like a deer caught in headlights, you made your way towards the blob. it was probably yuu.

right you were, as the closer they came the more you were able to make out their features.

“hey” you greeted, waving awkwardly as they slammed into you, arms wrapping around you tightly.

you squirmed uncomfortably, yuu being perceptive got the hint and flung off you like you had a disease.

“profesor crewel gave me permission to take you to the nurse! of course i had to convince silver not to go with us, but he wouldn’t budge! so he’s coming with your stuff after class!”

why they were so preppy after you almost had a panic attack (almost??) annoyed you slightly, yet you couldn’t blame them. they didn’t know.

silently, you nodded and started walking to the nurse again. you couldn’t see it, but yuu was waving to the small group that formed by the door; the first years. yuu only followed you once they all were pulled inside.

the majority of the walk was spent trying to calm yourself down. yuu stayed silent, trapped in their own world to give you time to reflect.

you were about to grab the handle to the nurses office when you noticed yuu walked right past you and the door.

“yuu you passed it”

“i know”

…

“wait you were serious about going to the nurse?”

you shrugged, i mean, what else would you do? crewel would skin you if he found out you skipped.

“i don’t wanna be made into a coat”

yuu chuckled, motioning for you to keep walking with them. looking between an inching away yuu and the red, ‘nurses office’ spelled out on the glass door, your feet moved on their own as your hand lingered on the knob.

yuu cheered as they walked back to you before guiding you in the middle of the hallway. far from the nurses door.

“do you wanna talk about it?”

you groaned, fisting your hair as you remembered what made you spiral. slamming your hands into your face, you grumbled out a response. yuu leaned closer, jokingly telling you to repeat it.

“he complimented me”

yuu stopped walking, hands hovering your shoulders as their eyes asked for permission to touch you. nodding, you were met with a gentle impact of their hands on your shoulders as they lightly shaked you.

“you started crying cause he complimented you??” they laughed, going on and on about your ‘crybaby rizz,’ and ‘how he looked like a kicked puppy because he thought he said something wrong.’

“i- i wasn’t crying!” you argued, but you both knew that was a lie as you cried easily at things.

that wasn’t the reason though… you wanted to tell them, yet when you opened your mouth to tell them what really happened, your throat closed up.

it wasn’t he compliment, but the fact that everyone was watching you. every single pair of eyes in that classroom put you under a microscope and inspected you like an amoeba when you laughed.

and the fact that most of them watched you storm out of the classroom in emotional turmoil made you want to claw your eyes out.

you sighed, knees buckling as yuu’s hands kept themselves purchased on your shoulders as you caught yourself.

“are you sure that’s it? you can tell me anything you know” they looked so worried, brows furrowed, smile long gone from their face, and their nose was even crinkled.

but no matter how strong your throat was, it would never be able to withstand the flood gates that opened once yuu said those magic words. “it just… everyone was staring at me- and i mean staring. like i was an animal they’ve never seen before at a zoo! last time i checked i wasn’t a animal on display! it just made me really conscious about… well everything”

yuu’s head tilted in thought “do you know why they were staring? did you do something?”

“… i laughed”

“… you… laughed?”

you nodded

“wait i’m confused, why the hell would they all look at you then”

“RIGHT” you yelled out, the knots in your back loosening the tiniest amount. no matter hard you tried to wrap your head around it, you laughing shouldn’t have been such a spectacle. yet it was.

“i’m never laughing again- OR going to that class again, i cant, ill die” you hunched over, curling into yourself as you dig your palms into your eyes as you let out numerous groans and sighs. even shaking your upper body for added effect.

yuu chuckled, patting your hunched over form “well i think you should laugh more, only for me though! cause i like it when you smile just at me!”

you rolled your eyes, commenting how greedy they were, and how one could get the wrong intentions based on wh-

“no i want you to get the wrong intentions. well, the right ones for me anyways. i’ll let silver have you for a bit, but make sure you only smile for me, ‘kay!” their arm slid down your back before it found the dip in your lower back.

freezing slightly, your eyes slowly trailed from the floor to yuu. their hand laid there for a moment, almost like they were engraining how you felt under their touch in their mind, before they quickly moved their hand back up to your upper back.

keeping you in their grasp, they started yapping as you two kept walking down the hallways.

they didn’t bother to wait for you to talk

you couldn’t notice, of course, but while yuu’s hand was in the small of your back a certain someone from class had interrupted the moment.

yuu being yuu didn’t tell you, as they were already gone when you started walking again.

—

i wrote this on the toilet.

why does no one talk about how AWFUL it would be if someone with social anxiety got transported to twisted wonderland 😭

like i’d have ZERO friends, expect for 1 or 2 people cause DAMN

#tiyoin 🔎#twisted anxiety 🌀#twisted wonderland x reader #malleus x reader #azul x reader #twst #silver #silver vanrouge #silver x reader #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #leona x reader #idia x reader #vil x reader #twisted wonderland headcanons #yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader

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love-belle · 7 months

Text

today and tomorrow and every day after that !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which their fall-in-love-again era is them pretending as if they haven't already made it till forever.

for when it'll be them today, tomorrow and then a day after that. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // max verstappen x fem!reader

prequel - i should hate you ⋆·˚ ༘ *

warnings - language

author's note - it's 3am and im tired. thank u and i hope u like it <3

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo, carmenmmundt and 789,416 others

yourusername his big wet eyes and loser personality have captivated me

tagged maxverstappen1

7,628 comments

username STFU OMG

username NO WAY SHE POSTED HIM AFTER MONTHS FOR RADIO SILENCE

username GIRL WHAT

username kinda hypocritical of u to go back to ur ex after yelling at us to fuck him (figuratively)

-> yourusername sorry bb he cried until i gave in

-> maxverstappen1 stop spreading lies

username the way i js relaxed and it wasn't even my relationship like DAMN

username im a child of TOGETHER parents

username i need this

danielricciardo i better be the godfather of your vaginal demons

-> yourusername pls take back ur bf heidiberger_

-> heidiberger_ timeout. NOW.

-> maxverstappen1 why only HER vaginal demons. i helped too

-> danielricciardo yeah for like 2 seconds

-> yourusername STOP TALKING ABT MT VAGINAL DEMONS

-> yourusername oh god

-> username "i helped too" LMFAOAOAOAN WTF

maxverstappen1 this is cyber bullying

-> yourusername stfu i love those photos like fetus maximus ❤️

-> maxverstappen1 that's not my name and you know it

-> yourusername honestly u should he HONOURED that u share a name with maximus the horse 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

username who needs reality tv when u have this comments section

username everyday i discover something entirely new about this whole group and atp im not even surprised

username don't post me unless the caption is "his big wet eyes and loser personality have captivated me"

maxverstappen1 i don't have a loser personality

-> yourusername u wear skinny jeans

-> username gagged him

-> username no bc they need to GO

maxverstappen1 okay but i could be your loser boyfriend, you ever think of that?

-> yourusername ur already my loser husband wdym

-> danielricciardo GIRL

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maxverstappen1 you suck at keeping secrets

-> yourusername u suck in general

-> maxverstappen1 real mature

username i'd die for them and they don't even know me

username WHATTHEFYCK

username i did not see this coming wtfff

username WHEN WAS THIS.

username no bc the fact that they STILL don't follow each other is HILARIOUS

username giggling rn he's so babygirl i love him

lilymhe run away with me

-> yourusername absolutely

-> maxverstappen1 aren't you MY wife

-> lilymhe divorce exists

-> yourusername she has a point

username im paralysed like WHAT DO U MEAN THEY'RE MARRIED

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, landonorris, danielricciardo and 895,315 others

maxverstappen1 something about how i'd marry you with paper rings and in this case, a string (or $1 rings from vending machine)

tagged yourusername

9,628 comments

maxverstappen1 i did not write the caption

-> maxverstappen1 y/n wrote this caption

-> yourusername i did not write this caption

username bitches be crying bc two people who do not know her at all are being cute and parents i am bitches

username she can spit on me

-> username she can ruin me actually

username nah ur not ginna distract us w this post WE NEED ANSWERS

-> username FRRRR LIKE WDYM UR HER HUSBAND

username pretty people (max and y/n) ruining it for the others (me)

username last slide made my heart crack

charles_leclerc i have heard you sing that little song to yourself. you wrote this caption.

-> maxverstappen1 i hope you like my rear

-> yourusername no bc he actually does

-> charles_leclerc i mean...

-> maxverstappen1 are we about to kiss right now?

-> alexandrasaintmleux does this mean......yourusername

-> yourusername babe come over ❤️

-> username what in the world is happening in this comments section

username everyday i wake up against my will and lose a part of myself knowing that my wife was snatched up by a vroom vroom mutation

username max it's ok to love ur wife!!!!!!!! we do too!!!!!!!!

-> maxverstappen1 she's not my wife. referring to her as such damages my reputation

-> yourusername i hope u like the doghouse

-> maxverstappen1 fun fact! we don't have a dog

-> yourusername new fact! now we do

-> maxverstappen1 uh

-> username i live for y/n terrorizing max every moment of the day

username nah my eyes are js overflowing with fluid im not crying 😂😂😂😂😂

username someone sedate me...........is max being romantic (?????????) on the main

username this is the peak of my existence

username lord what have i done wrong

danielricciardo as if you're not literally sitting on her lap right now

-> maxverstappen1 she tripped me

-> yourusername u literally told me that u would commit heinous crimes if i didn't let u sit on my lap

-> maxverstappen1 you tripped me

-> username i need to put his brain under a microscope and js SEE

-> username no bc how he goes from point a to point b needs to be scientifically studied

username don't mind me js going crazy over the fact that my parents MAY be married

yourusername u told me that i was the one who should propose

-> maxverstappen1 yes

-> yourusername and then snatched my ring and proposed to ME with MY ring

-> maxverstappen1 yes

-> yourusername yeah lemme js 🧠🔬

yourusername in any case, the answer would be fuck no ❤️

-> maxverstappen1 i'm calling christian and telling him that you're bullying his first driver.

yourusername IT'S A LOVE STORY BABY JS SAY YES!!!!!!!! (yes)

-> maxverstappen1 uh, i already asked charles_leclerc so...

-> charles_leclerc sorry

-> yourusername homwrecker

-> charles_leclerc there was no home to wreck

-> yourusername yeah i'll js sing boyfriend by dove cameron to alex instead

username this comments section is what keeps me up at night

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by maxverstappen1, carmenmmundt, landonorris and 1,527,278 others

yourusername babygirl u are a very freak and strange. i am deeply in love with u. all jokes aside, we made it. i know we got married like weeks ago but marrying u like FOR REAL has been the most beautiful moment of my life. i wanna spend everyday with u, in this life and all the others. vegas was a trip but even then, it was perfect with u, the one i was marrying and as taylor swift said "i like shiny things but i'd marry u with paper rings" or in our case, $1 rings from the vending machine. i wanna go to museums with u and point to pictures with weird guys and say "that's u". i wanna dance in the kitchen with u. i wanna look back after decades at all these memories and laugh, knowing that my now-self made the best decision. i love u even if u have me saved as "DO NOT ANSWER ❌" in ur phone. i think forever would be nice with u or till death do us apart (or someone in a suit if this escalates to a divorce).

tagged maxverstappen1

11,628 comments

username give me a minute. or a year

username hahahahahahaha PAUSE.

username no bc i missed the WHOLE BOOK instead of chapters

username and this is how they managed to break the f1 fandom

username PLEASE IM CRYING WHATCTYENFUCK

username they 😭 got 😭 married 😭

username IM CRYING WHATTTEYEGDHDJD

carmenmmundt all my love to both of you !! i love you and you deserve nothing but happiness 🤍 thank you so much for letting me be a part of your special day

-> yourusername carmen 🤍🤍🤍 u own my heart and thank UUUUUU for being a part of my big day

username "i think forever would be nice with u or till death do us apart (or someone in a suit if this escalates to a divorce)" y/n y/l/n how does it feel to be the most hilarious person ever 🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤

username im in SHAMBLES rn what the fuck

username someone sedate me bc there's NO way this is real

landonorris good luck because he's with you till you decompose

-> maxverstappen1 i'll go with her into the afterlife too like who the fuck she trying to meet there

-> yourusername bold of u to assume you'd even get in

-> maxverstappen1 is this what married life is like???

username i am unwell

username "i wanna go to museums with u and point to pictures with weird guys and say "that's u"" THIS IS TRUE LOVE

username and adding onto my 262728292 reasons

username the caption has me shaking on the floor gasping for breath

username i have PRAYED for times like these

username FUCJ YESHSHHSJSJSJS

danielricciardo the best night even though i don't remember any of it

-> yourusername u tried to set our marriage certificate on fire saying "it's set in stone now"

-> danielricciardo doing god's work

-> username no bc y/nmax nation would be in RUINS if it weren't for daniel

username sobbing they're soooo parents now it's crazy

username i js woke up whatcthebfufk

username AHSHSJJKKSSKAKSJSJKS

maxverstappen1 never changing your contact name

-> yourusername this is so not sexie new husband of u

maxverstappen1 we look lovely

-> yourusername yes we do

maxverstappen1 mrs. y/l/n-verstappen

-> yourusername mr. verstappen-y/l/n

username YELLING THIS IS REVOLUTIONARY

username screeching when will it be my turn

username never ever ever getting over this caption

username this will go down in history for YEARS to come

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by charles_leclerc, georgerussell63, danielricciardo and 2,128,268 others

maxverstappen1 never really did sappy posts but this means the world to me and i guess there's a first (???) time for everything. all i can say is that i truly cannot wait to spend all my days with you and go to sleep thinking that i can't wait to do it again tomorrow. and i think, there's nothing more lovelier than that. you once told me that i deserved the world, i hope we get to see it together. i wanna hear how your day was, today and tomorrow and every day after that. but before getting to all those tomorrows, here's to our forever that's summed up for me in a small moment.

tagged yourusername

13,628 comments

username shut up and think about what u did

username i can't cry im in class WHY WOULD U DO THIS TO ME

username no bc this is literally my last straw ENOUGH

username "here's to our forever that's summed up for me in a small moment" THIS DOESN'T EVEN MAKE SENSE AND IT MADE ME SOB

username no bc he had no RIGHT to post this

username girlypop im still recovering from y/n's post give me 4-5 business years

username not cool max verstappen not COOL.

username tears are streaming down my face what the actual fuck

landonorris okay i shed a few tears

-> maxverstappen1 mate you were sobbing while giving your speech

-> landonorris I SUFFERED THE MOST OKAY

-> username no bc lando is their ACTUAL child of divorce

username this is ASTRONOMICAL like this is INSANE

username the bar is so high it js looks like a dash at this point

username everyone go home. max js won

-> maxverstappen1 winning on and off track

-> yourusername u cried when i beat u in mario kart

-> maxverstappen1 I CAN'T DRIVE

-> yourusername UR A PROFESSIONAL DRIVER

username further proof of if he wanted to he would

username "i truly cannot wait to spend all my days with you and go to sleep thinking that i can't wait to do it again tomorrow" js take me swiftly and now

username IN LOVE WITH THEIR WEDDING AESTHETIC LIKE IT EATS SO HARD

username i've prayed for times like these ❤️

charles_leclerc can't believe you would cheat on me

-> maxverstappen1 might just leave her for you

-> yourusername is this a bad time to tell u both that im already seeing someone???? alexandrasaintmleux

-> alexandrasaintmleux my angel ❤️

-> charles_leclerc wait a minute

-> maxverstappen1 now hold on

username live for men are unapologetically in love with their partners like there's nothing more sexy than that

username liar every single post abt y/n has been a sappy post

-> maxverstappen1 she holds me hostage every time

-> yourusername divorce papers look so sexy rn

username IT'S BEEN SUCH A LONG JOURNEY Y'ALL WE MADE IT

username my babies ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

danielricciardo tell lando i'm the godfather

-> landonorris he WON'T because you're NOT

-> maxverstappen1 guys we don't even have a baby

-> danielricciardo obviously we're talking about the future. your swimmers ain't THAT competitive unlike you

-> yourusername BAHAHAHAHA PLEASE UR SO WRONG FOR THAT

-> maxverstappen1 and you're officially out of the godfather contestants

username need a documentary on this like my life depends on this bc it DOES

username i never will be moving on from this post

yourusername i love u i love u i love u i love u i love u i love u

-> maxverstappen1 likewise

-> yourusername yeah i'll just

*yourusername deleted this comment*

yourusername ty

-> maxverstappen1 have a sense of humour

-> yourusername i married u what's funnier than THAT

-> username CLEARED HIM

-> username LFMSOAOAOAO

yourusername nice caption, wonder who edited it 🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔

-> maxverstappen1 i don't know, this girl who follows me everywhere and calls me maximus

-> yourusername she sounds cute

-> maxverstappen1 yeah, she really is

yourusername nvm idgaf I LOVEEEEEE YOU

-> maxverstappen1 i love you more

yourusername husband

-> maxverstappen1 wife

username giggling rn im sooooo happy

username i will show this to my kids

#f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 imagines #social media au #fake instagram imagines #max verstappen fluff #fake social media #max verstappen x you #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen x fem!reader #max verstappen instagram au

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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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aft3rhrs · 4 months

Text

— hangman ღ

number: unknown. pt 2.

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: strangers to lovers

warnings: dead dove, yandere, smoking, manipulation, corruption, allusions to depression and anxiety, allusions to past familial abuse, kidnapping, drugging, hints of fear kink (mind games, mentions & threats of snuff and necrophilia), allusions to cnc, mentions of stalking, angst, obsession, dub con, humiliation, praise, choking, possessiveness, outdoor sex, rough sex, dirty talk, use of triggering words in an erotic and degrading manner* (listed under the cut), creampie, mindbreak (??? a tiny bit), aftercare, mentions of murder and corpses, revenge themes, softer towards the end

*use of the word “rapist”.

masterlist

It's been three weeks since Jungkook has started seeing you in clubs. Five weeks of silence since the last phone call. It didn't take too long for you to let your guard down, a tempting invitation for a predator like him. Were you passing time drinking, hoping he would finally come around and see where you've been hiding? Terrified of the moment fantasy bleeds into reality, but unable to resist its pull?

He didn't have to wait long to find out.

He caught when you were walking home, heart throbbing the moment he finally felt your warmth. The thick shadows of the alley concealed your bodies, and if anyone were to walk by, they'd see nothing but a pair of lovers embracing in the dark.

No one would notice the cloth damp from chloroform pressed into your mouth, or the way his voice made your frightened form soften in his arms.

"It's okay," he shushed. "It's just me, baby..."

A monster familiar was better than a beast unknown.

"I'm sorry, I just need you to take a nap. I'll take care of you. I promise."

He pressed his lips into your forehead, stroking your hair as you limped in his hold, less conscious by the minute. A kiss goodnight, marking your departure to the empty dreamland that swallowed you whole.

Jungkook scooped you up, carried you to his car, then laid you down at the back before starting the engine.

The drive was smooth, the roads long and dark, inky outlines of trees thickening as they stretched forward. The little dress you wore barely covered your legs, prompting Jungkook to turn the heating on; even if his jacket already kept you warm.

Two hours later, you began to stir.

Your eyes opened, hazy from sleep and the drug still running through your system. Your consciousness fluttered awake slowly, along with all of your senses. You registered the feeling of Jungkook's heat blanketing you, his arm tight around your waist, keeping you tucked into his chest. You registered the weight of his hand cradling your cheek, and the smell of his cologne, mingling with leather.

"Had a good nap?" He murmured, his breath tickling your lips.

You blinked a few times, taking in the dimness of his car, and then the hooded eyes staring right into yours.

As if the reality of the situation just dawned on you, you startled, an incomprehensible protest fleeing your mouth. Your body seemed too weak to fight, however, and your mind wasn't in a much better place.

Jungkook buried his face in your neck when you jumped, brushing his nose along the smooth skin.

"Sorry, baby. I know you're tired, and we haven't seen each other in so long—" he whispered. "I've been going crazy without you."

You shivered promptly, your brain still muddled and heart thumping in your chest. You had no idea what was going on, and you were afraid to find out. Pride out the window, there was no denying that fact.

"But that's why tonight's a special occasion," Jungkook continued, still whispering. He lifted his head, the tip of his nose bumping into yours. "You know I'd do anything for you. Tonight I need you to do something for me."

You swallowed thickly. You wished you had the energy to slap him, kick him, bite him; but you felt too heavy.

"Go to hell," was all you managed, raspy and weak.

Jungkook chuckled. The sound made your blood boil. Fighting back only ever seemed to encourage his depraved nature, and it was humiliating, somehow, if not utterly discouraging.

"Hell is wherever I have to live without you," he mumbled into your cheek, "and trust me when I tell you, baby, you're never getting away from me again."

Your stomach sank, reaching depths you had no idea were possible. You watched him slip away from you to get out of the car, and the cold air that poured in wasn't the only reason your legs started shaking.

Like a gentleman, he reached for your hand and helped you out, most likely aware of how weak your knees felt. He steadied you against the door, letting you take in the dense woods surrounding you, the grim sight of empty branches twisting into the autumn sky.

You tried not to let the worst scenarios flood your head, yet it was a difficult wave to hold off; and impossible to run from.

"Where are we?"

Jungkook reached into his pocket.

"Out of town, little doe."

A glimmer of silver among the dark scenery caught your attention. You found yourself going rigid, staring at the shovel laying on the damp ground.

A click had your head snapping down. The barrel of a gun brushed against your hip, tender, like a lover's touch.

"Wanna get to work?"

The world tilted off its axis, your blood running cold, ice as blue as your veins.

You were going to die.

There was a small part of you that seemed to crack at the thought, prompting tears to burn your eyes. It wanted you to cry, plead him to stop and just take you home, to bed, so you could sleep it all away.

Yet a bigger part of you felt somewhat betrayed. He touched something dark inside of you, fed it until it bloomed, and now that you were so damaged he wanted you six feet under?

Jungkook bit his lip, a meek attempt at holding back a smile.

"Don't look at me like that. Not every girl gets to dig her own grave, you know. I even bought you flowers."

Still and silent as a statue, you didn't answer. The lump in your throat was too thick, the static in your head growing louder.

Jungkook leaned in, his gun languidly caressing your hip and plush lips teasing your ear.

"Here's your noose, baby. Are you ready for it?"

Your noose...

Were you supposed to trust him with it?

You were walking forward before you realized it, fists clenched and steps unsteady. You could have spent hours running through the woods, and you still wouldn't be able to escape him. Whether this was a sick game or your last night breathing, there was no denying that fact, either.

"You know what?" you snapped, grabbing the shovel, "I would rather die than spend another minute here with you."

You still tried to blink your tears away, refusing to give him the satisfaction, the last shreds of your dignity. You shoved the sharp edge of the tool into the earth, your vision blurred.

"I would rather die than ever see you again."

You were too busy throwing away the dirt, then digging in to gather more, to notice the way Jungkook's jaw tensed.

"I would rather be in the ground, than be around a psycho freak like you!"

The louder your voice rose, the more your throat ached, tears spilling over despite all your efforts. You continued to dig, completely disregarding seeing Jungkook walking towards you.

"Wow. I would watch your mouth if I were you, honey," he warned lowly, stopping a few inches behind you.

The shovel struck the earth again, a chill crawling down your spine.

"Ever gotten off to snuff porn?"

You froze, wide eyes staring into the ruined ground before you.

Jungkook ran his finger down your back, making you shiver.

"Well, I haven't. But I might start soon, with my personal little movie star, if you're not gonna be a good fucking girl."

The implication had your mouth instantly shut. You couldn't bear to turn around and look at him, or even run. Rooted to the place you stood in, withering away, like the trees that trapped you.

Jungkook snaked his arms around your waist, the gun still in his hand, flat against your abdomen.

"I don't like it when you lie, baby," he muttered, placing a kiss on your neck.

Your head was spinning strangely, shallow breaths leaving your lungs.

"Bet your pussy's wet. Probably been wet since I grabbed you. Bet it's clenching right now and you can't stand it, so you choose to be a fucking bitch... As always."

He kissed your neck once more, hot and breathy against your skin. Your knees almost buckled.

"You're so fucking dirty. Do you want me to snuff you out? Hmm?"

It was disgusting, the filth he spouted, the way he pressed himself closer to you, hard beneath his jeans. The way your tummy churned was worse, heat radiating on your skin despite the insistent brushes of the frigid wind.

"Want me to fuck you into that grave?"

You couldn't stop the tears, silent and hot, flowing in tandem with the slick sticking to your underwear. You still felt drugged out, your outburst doing nothing but leaving you hollow. Tiredness was beginning to take over, numbness spreading through your bones.

Maybe Jungkook was right. You were no better than him; aggression remaining your only self defense when you were left vulnerable. But now that it has faded, a quiet, devastating acceptance was starting to settle in.

You hated him — because you hated yourself. You wanted to be normal, to heal from the things that broke you. And every attempt ended in failure. Instead of encouraging you to try again, or critizing, Jungkook was the only person who wanted you as you were. In pieces.

He didn't mind getting cut on the shards. In fact, it seemed he'd be ecstatic to bleed for you, offer you everything he had. Toxic and twisted, no end to his devotion.

"Keep digging," he said hoarsely, then took a step back.

Like he was trying to stay in control.

You obeyed, sniffling quietly as you bent down to pick up the shovel.

He told you once that not everyone was made for this world; and you clearly weren't, but that was okay... because you were made for him. That you could keep trying to fit in and keep failing if you wanted — or let him in.

You didn't, and he crept inside anyway; a tender violence.

At this point, you didn't care much if you died or not. At least everything would be over. In the end, you didn't have much to wake up for.

Jungkook lit up a cigarette. He drank in the sight of sweat shining on your skin in the dim light of the moon, the shift in your demeanor as you continued digging.

"Easy," he called, blowing out smoke. "Don't hurt yourself, darling. That's my job. It doesn't need to be that deep."

You ignored him, no longer in the mood to talk. Or to provoke him any further, for that matter. Your arms almost trembled as the hole in the ground grew deeper, whether from strain or nerves, it was hard to tell. The thought of your body laying in the dirt, cold and forgotten, felt both unsettling and peaceful. As though nothing mattered anymore.

Jungkook watched you struggle, fingers stiff around the shovel, and yet you kept going, the scattered pile of dirt behind you increasing. He was pissed off, but finishing his cigarette soothed the fire, while noting how pale you've begun to turn put it out altogether.

He threw the bud away and jumped off the hood of his car to make his way towards you. His hand settled on your waist, pulling you up, while the other took a hold of the shovel.

"That's enough," he murmured, dropping it aside with a small thump. "Good girl."

You let yourself melt into death's arms.

Your head lolled to the side, exposing the expanse of your neck, unconsciously giving Jungkook the access he wanted. He kissed the tender flesh, squeezing your hips, still hard and hot beneath his jeans.

"The end is always a new beginning, baby."

You sighed, mascara wet and heavy on your lashes. Gently, Jungkook turned you around to face him, wiping the dark streaks from your face.

"I love you so much," he breathed into your lips.

His body was solid against yours. Your only source of warmth. Dizzy, you barely had the chance to glance up at him before he kissed you, swallowing your shaky exhale.

You let out a mellow squeal when his hands traveled down your legs, gripping your thighs to lift you with ease. For the first time you found yourself clinging to him, kissing him back with equal hunger instead of denial. You wanted to forget the world around you, the grave you've dug for yourself, much earlier than tonight.

Jungkook took a step, then another, before giving up entirely and lowering you down beside it, disconnecting your lips from his only the moment he hovered above you.

Pupils blown out, inky hair messy, he cupped your cheek, his heart thumping right against yours.

"Are you scared?" He asked softly, his thumb still wiping at your tears.

You stared up at him, trying to hold on to reality, but as always, your grip was slipping, and he was the only lifeline you had left. He stirred up the muddy waters in your heart, agitated the unbridled, starving things within their depths.

"Is this a punishment?" you found yourself uttering, barely a whisper.

Jungkook cocked his head to the side, his gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips.

"Mm, not really. Just a little game, to end all the others. And start something new."

You didn't know what to think or feel anymore, your hair splayed out on the ground, so cold beneath you, Jungkook's heat bleeding into your skin from above, and the world spinning.

You smacked his arm when he dipped down to mouth at your neck again; drained, the distorted hands under the water still reaching to pull him under with the remnants of your anger. He laughed, as though he found it adorable, immediately grabbing your face to kiss you again.

He didn't hesitate for a second, unzipping his jeans with one hand, and you could feel your core quiver against your better judgement. It was surprising to find that there was still some clarity left in you; or maybe it was easier to make peace with death than with the fact that you were your own traitor.

"Want me to fuck you in it?" Jungkook breathed, forcing your thighs apart.

You couldn't help the way your gaze fell down to his inked hand, wrapped around his cock. He tapped it against your inner thigh impatiently, precum wetting your skin. You clenched around thin air, spine tingling.

"The grave," he clarified, smirking.

The words finally hit you, and you shook your head, your hands frantically pushing at his chest.

"No!" you cried out, nails almost slashing the skin of his neck.

Jungkook grunted, pushing back, leaning his entire weight on you to put an end on your antics. Your breath hitched when you felt his fingers dip inside your underwear, pulling it aside abruptly. He didn't comment on how drenched the flimsy material was. The moment you were exposed, he was pushing inside you, incapable of focusing on anything but the warmth of your cunt.

The small hole stretched so nicely to accommodate him, fluttering around his cock. He groaned into your mouth, and your thighs shuddered around him, a restless heat boiling deep in your gut.

"You're so wet," he moaned, pulling back to feel the ring of muscles clench against his flushed tip, trying to suck him back in.

He shivered at the feeling, then proceeded to fuck himself in and out of you like he needed; like you both did. Hard.

"You're a filthy fucking minx, I shouldn't ask you anything unless I'm inside you. Your pussy won't lie to me, hm?"

Despite the whines he coaxed out of your throat, you shook your head, every wet slap of his cock thrusting in and out echoing through the woods. Imprinting on your brain.

"Oh yeah? How about we rewind a little, baby?"

He fucked you faster, angling his hips to find that little spot that made your mouth fall open. He wasn't going to go easy on it, or on you, chasing the high.

"What's gotten you so soaked?" He managed, panting. "Did you like the thought of me snuffing you out?"

Cheeks aflame, a choked out protest; and yet your pussy was getting tighter, soaking the thick grith pounding into it.

Jungkook let out a sound akin to a whimper, eyebrows scrunching.

"Fuck, I know you did," he leaned his forehead on yours, feeling his cock throb. "I know how much you want my cum, screaming or dead or asleep. And if I could live without you, baby, I'd do it for you, keep you so full of me."

A revolting insinuation; but you couldn't tell the difference between nausea and an approaching orgasm making your stomach twist.

Jungkook's lips inched towards yours, a deep groan rumbling out.

"That's it. Let it go. Let it all go, angel."

This was the way he wanted you to fall apart; on his big cock, tasting the kind of euphoria nothing and no one but him could offer. He felt his balls tighten, heavy as they slammed against you, almost ready to spill everything he had.

"Mm—" a sigh, a pause, hips grinding as his hand clutched your neck, feeling your pulse jump. "Yeah."

A drop of sweat slipped down his temple. Beautiful, with a mouth that dripped depravity, he might as well have had two horns growing out of his head, a forked tongue hidden under the illusion of humanity.

He resumed his ruthless pace, unwilling to let you look away, dissociate from him. In fact, the way you squirmed under him, succumbing to the rush, pliant and loud as you cried, had him choking you harder, crushing the rest of your pride.

"Close?" He bit down on your lower lip, pulling on it. "What do you think your friends would say if they saw you like this?" He husked, his hand crawling up your chest. "Getting fucked out in the woods... by your stalker. Do you think they would be surprised?"

He fondled you over the soft material of the dress, focused on nothing but pumping you full of him. You felt like heaven, and your tight little cunt responded to his words, even if you didn't want to, fluttering and releasing more slick.

"They shouldn't be," he swallowed harshly, watching your eyes fall closed. "They don't know you at all. Don't know how much you like this cock forcing you open."

For the first time that night, it was clear that your thighs weren't trembling from fear. That greedy pussy wasn't letting him go, and Jungkook was tipping towards the edge, no filter on his thoughts anymore.

"But I know," his head fell into your neck, a hot mumble striking your skin. "You're such a good girl, such a good fucking girl, and such a dirty fucking whore, just for me— aaahhh, fuck."

There it was; his favorite way of getting to you. Kissing, biting and licking at your monsters until they'd submit, recognizing him as one of their own. His cock liked it too, the way you fell to pieces under him, back arched and hands digging into his shoulders.

"I feel you, baby," he groaned, "knew you'd cream my cock. That's all you can think about, isn't it?"

You whimpered, delirious, though it still sounded like a 'no', a cute, little lie to ward off your guilt. For some reason, it turned Jungkook on more. He lifted his head and sucked at your lower lip, rutted into you harder.

"Go on, baby," he breathed, "cream it. No need to be shy, you're already mine."

A trail of sloppy, possessive kisses marked your neck, electricity trickling through your spine.

"My prettiest baby, my only girl," Jungkook babbled drunkenly. "Go on, do it for me. Yeah..."

Eyes dark, locking on yours, his voice lowering to a shaky whisper.

"Come on your rapist's cock."

You unraveled like his word was holy, clamping down on him and ripping a hoarse moan out of his throat. He fucked you through it anyway, too close to the edge to stop his own fall; his cock throbbed, long spurts of hot cum filling your ruined hole, so deep and so good his eyes rolled back.

He swore filthily, knees like cotton and his hand digging into your throat, staking his claim, the rush too sweet not to let it linger. It flowed through his entire body, pulsing and warm, like the sun. It flowed through yours too, imploding, and wiping out the rest of existence. As far as you were aware, Jungkook was all that was left.

You didn't feel anything else; not the passage of time, nor the cold air grazing your arms. Only his lips, leaving kiss after kiss on your face, muttering praises you could barely make out with your mind numbed out.

You weren't sure how long you've spent laying there, his cum leaking out of you, bones like jelly and skin sticky. At last floating in the dark, like fog, and still being kissed all over, your flesh existing only where his lips touched.

By the time he pulled you up, you didn't have the capacity to wonder what was going to happen next.

So why were you crying again?

You even didn't notice until Jungkook sat you on the hood of his car, cupping your cheeks.

"No more, baby," he pleaded. "Relax. I've got you."

You were so tired.

You wished you could lie down and sleep, but Jungkook reached for the hem of your dress, inching it up.

"I'm gonna need this."

Your heart flipped. Still, you were too out of it to protest or ask why.

Goosebumps flooded your skin as he took the clothing off you, gently, leaving you in nothing but your underwear.

As if shutting down, you stayed there; once again, unmoving. You listened to the trunk pop open, stuck on the odd rustling sound that followed. A loud thud came, making you flinch.

Then, more rustling.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jungkook dragging something towards you, a faint, unpleasant smell of blood reaching your nose.

Your stomach turned.

You stared at the bag, and he stared at you, unceremoniously dropping your dress on the wrapped up corpse.

Perhaps it was the way you gasped that had him reaching out, the same hands that took a life massaging your bare sides to comfort you.

"Close your eyes for the next part, baby," he whispered.

His nose brushed against yours. You felt your lower lip tremble, but still did as he asked.

"Good girl," he praised.

Frowning, you attempted to make some sense of what was happening, attempted to keep your heart from jumping to your throat.

It did anyway.

Sensing your distress, Jungkook kissed your lips.

"Remember a girl called Jia?"

No more pounding, or skipping beats. Everything seemed to come to a halt, including your heart.

Jungkook squeezed your waist. His voice remained quiet, a ghost in the wind.

"Not a pretty sight."

Inhale.

Exhale.

He took a hold of your trembling hand, leaving a loving kiss on each knuckle.

"Tonight, you die, baby," he murmured, the next kiss landing on your temple. "And nothing bad will ever happen to you again. Just you and me, yeah?"

The tears that fell were different now. Something broke. But it felt like release.

The soothing warmth of his hands vanished, and you kept your eyes closed. Even as the bag rustled and the stench got worse, even as another thud echoed through the empty woods.

How did he know?

Somehow, it still surprised you. Somehow, you couldn't bear to disobey him as he filled the grave you dug up, burying the biggest nightmare of your past. The so called family that had torn your life and soul apart.

There was no doubt in your mind that if he found her, he found him, too.

You listened to the metal dig into the earth again, dirt gathering on top of her corpse. Clad in your dress, butchered, rendering her unrecognizable. Teeth, face, hands — ruined. Jungkook had thought of everything, it seemed. A perfect crime.

The only traces of DNA left? Yours. Whatever still lingered on that little black dress.

As of tonight...

You were were dead.

Jungkook threw the shovel away, huffing, then made his way back towards the car. He heaved a sigh and pulled you in, held you close, sheltering you from the rest of the world.

Your fingers wrapped around the fabric of his sleeve, squeezing.

He acknowledged the gesture by kissing the top of your head, eyes closed. There was no rush, really, besides the longing to finally take you home and get into bed to sleep.

No more games. No more pain.

The end was always a new beginning.

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#dead dove #yandere bts #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts reactions #bts smut #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jungkook smut

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holllandtrash · 5 months

Text

now that we don't talk | charles leclerc

pairing: charles leclerc x reader part 2 to say don't go

so i pay the price of what i lost and what it cost now that we don't talk

word count: 5.6k tags/warnings: slight angst, mentions of being disloyal, this is sad, pato o'ward makes a guest appearance had to rewind a bit because because this is charles' pov during and after the relationship - i promise we'll find the ending eventually

Charles was late to the welcome party in Vegas and maybe that was a blessing in disguise.

He showed up a little after 11pm as he really wasn’t in any sort of rush to make an appearance. This week was going to be a long one already and with the obligations piling on top of each other, he tried to spend the minimum amount of time doing what was required of him.

So on that Wednesday evening, he showed up over three hours after the recommended time of 8pm. Alexandra was with him, Alex as she preferred to be called. The coordinated outfits were her idea and Charles didn’t mind it, but it wasn’t an outfit he would have chosen himself.

But they showed up, hand in hand and Charles found a few members of his team - or rather, Mark found him.

“Did you know Damon Hill and his family are here?” Mark didn’t even start with a greeting. He did smile at Alex, out of politeness, but his interest lied with Charles knowing that the Monegasque driver hadn’t spoken to you in a few months.

“The whole family?” Charles asked with a breath, feeling the tense glance from his girlfriend.

Mark nodded, “Yeah. Yeah they’re all around here somewhere.”

Here being the very large venue dedicated to tonight, to the inaugural Las Vegas Grand Prix. Members from each team, the drivers, invited guests and sponsors, everyone was here tonight.

And apparently, so were you.

Mark was not the only person to mention to Charles that you were there, in fact Mark was the first of about eight people who felt the need to tell Charles that the girl he once spoke to was somewhere around.

Of course, no one could tell Charles exactly where you were, but it didn’t surprise him to hear you were leaving good impressions on everyone you had spoken to. You, someone who could part the red sea with ease, took a more delicate approach tonight.

You were fully aware Charles was going to be there, but he was of no concern to you. You were polite to absolutely everyone you spoke to and if by chance someone mentioned that, ‘oh, Charles will be here eventually’ you simply smiled and nodded because you weren’t about to make any more waves in the motorsport industry. You preferred your name stayed out of the tabloids and what good would it be going around telling people how Charles broke your heart?

There was speculation, of course. People knew you spent time together. Those online shared their opinions, right or wrong, thinking they could put the pieces together just based on the fact that he was seen in Paris with you one day and then in Monaco with Alex the next.

It didn’t help that you left England soon after, making only one more appearance in Formula 1 when you went to Spain.

Charles still thought about that conversation, how calm you were throughout, not allowing him to take any piece of your dignity despite what he did, how he made you feel.

Charles thought he was better off this way, with Alex.

You were certainly better off.

He didn’t like admitting it, in fact he probably never would, but he kept up to date with you, with your life. He saw on Instagram when you dyed your hair and then dyed it again and then chopped it to your shoulders. He saw when you spent time with the F1 Academy drivers, when you attended Nascar races, when you started spending more and more time with the Arrow McLaren team.

You had told him that you wanted to watch a few races, check out a few teams before deciding whether or not you wanted to pursue a career in the motorsports field.

And you had done just that. From the outside looking in, Charles couldn’t help but think that this was you just trying on different lives. Indecisive, certainly. But you looked happy, so who was he to have a say?

It shouldn’t have come as a shock when the news dropped of you being brought on as a Performance Engineer for the US based papaya team starting in 2024. The photo that accompanied the headline was you sitting at the pit wall in Portland, already with the orange headset on as you watched the race.

Charles was in Italy when he read the article. Just over three months after your relationship ended...but who's counting?

He had finished fourth that Sunday, not his worst race but his best one either. He was just on his way to his car, wanting to head to the airport when he came across the news on Instagram.

He wanted to congratulate you. He wanted to call you and tell you he was excited for this move, for this career you landed on. He wanted to joke that he could have gotten you a job at Ferrari if you had just asked.

But you didn’t talk anymore so he couldn’t say anything. This was the cost of losing you. Charles couldn’t stay your friend, not after what he did, and in return, you were out of his life.

It wasn't that he was looking for you that night in Vegas but he wasn't not looking for you. It was quite a large crowd that even he had trouble navigating his way around. Alex walked behind him, following Charles at a close distance.

And truthfully, Charles tried not to compare you and Alex, but something about knowing you were in the vicinity had him thinking of what would be different if you had accompanied him tonight.

You wouldn’t reach for his hand, but you would have lightly grabbed the back of his shirt if the crowd started getting a little suffocating. Just a slight tug on the material and Charles would turn around and assure you with a smile that he wasn’t going anywhere.

The first time you did that, you were in Monaco. Those weeks he flew you out to spend time with him after only meeting once in the Ferrari garage.

After leaving a nightclub, the crowd got a little rowdy- they all wanted a piece of him. You stood behind him as he walked to the car that was waiting but when people started moving closer you felt as though you were suffocating. Heart racing as anxiety crept up, a new feeling because you didn’t think you were claustrophobic but you had also never been in this situation before.

You reached for the back of Charles’ shirt, hand brushing over the thin material before taking it between your forefinger and thumb. It was helpful for you, knowing that you could still touch him, feel him. It grounded you. A little bit of comfort amidst the chaos.

Charles turned when he felt the faint tug. He recognized the wide eyes, the fear that you tried to play off because this was normal for him. But it wasn’t normal for you so he raised his hand, sliding his fingers into yours to give you that gentle squeeze before finally making it to the car.

The anxiety faded the second Charles closed the door for you. He walked around to the drivers side and slid in, hand automatically finding your leg.

He didn’t ask about it, the sudden panic. He knew you had been around large crowds a handful of times before. You weren’t in the public eye per say, but your father was and growing up you became used to it.

But this was just different. Charles recognised it, and he knew moving forward he’d have to be mindful of it, of you, of how you were feeling.

He wondered how you were doing tonight in Vegas, if there was someone else's shirt you were clinging onto this time. Or maybe that was something you saved just for Charles. He couldn’t ask, though. He wouldn’t know the answer to how you were feeling because you didn’t talk anymore.

He also had absolutely no idea where you were.

Maybe you had left by now. It was getting late. If you showed up on time, which you probably did, you’d have been ready to call it a night thirty minutes ago. You’d have gone back to your hotel room and scrubbed your makeup off, changing into one of those matching jumper and sweats sets you always had.

You craved comfort over anything else.

Charles remembered Paris. The first night. Not the night where everything fell apart right in front of him all because he couldn’t say those three little words back to you.

No, the first night was good. It was great, magical even. Charles had taken you out to dinner. The skin tight black dress you wore, the one with the low cut neckline - Charles still thought about it. He’d love to know if you still had it, if you wore it for anyone else but those were questions he kept to himself.

He remembered at the end of the evening you were at your second wine bar, having come across this one completely by accident on your way back to your place. Charles remembered pulling you inside, suggesting that one more glass wouldn’t hurt anyone and you hesitated because it was getting late, but nevertheless, you followed.

One glass turned into splitting an entire bottle at one of the high tables in the very back. This place was old-school chic with the decor and the 80’s records playing on low volume. It was nothing like the modern and elegant bar you had just spent the last hour in. No, this place was intimate, cozy and surprisingly you didn’t want to leave, even as the night went on.

And that surprised Charles because you had joked at the beginning of the night that you wanted to be in bed by at least eleven. It was half 12 now and you showed no signs of trying to get back to your flat.

“So do you or do you not like staying out late?” Charles asked, trying to get the proper read. His hand was resting on your leg, fingers daringly close to the hem of your dress. You were both way too overdressed for this establishment but no one seemed to mind. No one paid you two any attention.

You smiled and glanced around, wanting to bring light to the fact that no one had approached you since you stepped inside, but you didn’t want to jinx it.

“After a certain hour I like to be comfortable,” you answered. “There’s nothing comforting about a stuffy bar and loud music and people in your space who think they know you but they really don’t. And I like going out, I do, but I don’t like staying out longer than I need to.”

Charles nodded, understanding the point you were getting at. This wine bar was a hole in the wall, a hidden gem that provided you the comfort you desired. While you weren’t entirely alone, it certainly felt like it. You could laugh freely without worrying about being too loud or embarrassing. You could sit as close as you wanted to Charles without being cautious of who was nearby. It was just you and him.

And you could have gone back home, but home would always be there. This moment, this bar, this was just as comforting and in the back of both of your minds, you knew it wouldn’t come again.

You were right.

Charles would have rather been back in that corner of the wine bar with you now, back in Paris without the impending end of your relationship weighing over his shoulders.

He wished he could relive that night over and over because for a moment, he thought that maybe, possibly, he could love you.

Charles blamed it on the wine. The way the dim light hit your delicate features was only accentuated because he was drunk. Your laughter was soothing, heartwarming even, but he reminded himself he had heard it hundreds of times before. You looked at him that night, a naive glow to you and it terrified Charles.

He pushed that four letter word aside. He couldn’t love you. He couldn’t love anyone, he couldn’t have that commitment, not with his lifestyle- his career. If he loved you, you’d become a distraction. You’d want more from him and he couldn’t do that, he couldn’t give you more.

So when you told him you loved him only a few days later, he ran.

He ran back to Alex because she would never tell him she loved him. She wouldn’t put that on his shoulders, she wouldn’t carelessly hand over her heart that way you had. Because that’s what you did. You gave Charles everything, all of you and he didn’t know what to do with it. He wasn’t ready to give you everything in return.

He was left with a tainted memory of Paris.

So yes, he tried to think of that first night more than any other one. At least that memory was pure, wholesome.

It wouldn’t have surprised him to find out you left this Vegas party already. Probably found the quietest bar on the outskirts of the strip. Or you might have even gone back to the hotel because what comfort could a bar bring you?

Did you still think about that night in Paris too? Or had you tried to completely forget about your time together there? Again, Charles couldn’t just ask you that. You didn’t talk.

But there were people here that you did talk to.

Charles spotted Pato O’Ward, the well adored driver in the IndyCar series. You may not have been hired as a performance engineer for his car, but you were going to be a crucial part of the Arrow McLaren team. Plus you had spent a handful of races with them already, sometimes in his pit lane box.

They had met before, briefly but it was a long enough interaction that Charles didn’t feel uncomfortable approaching the Mexican driver.

They chatted about the race happening this weekend, about Pato’s upcoming practice session he’ll be participating in in Abu Dhabi. Charles was friendly, he knew how to carry a conversation.

He also knew how to find out the information he couldn’t get first hand from you. Of course, waiting until Alex walked off to get another drink.

“I heard about Y/N joining the team,” Charles casually mentioned. “That’s exciting, she’ll be a good addition.”

“Oh for sure,” Pato nodded in agreement. He glanced around, as if trying to find you but he didn’t spend too long looking. “She’s a genius. We’re happy to have her. I’m surprised that she didn’t find a job in Formula 1, though. With her father and all and-”

Pato cut himself off, unsure if this was a line he wanted to cross.

But Charles chuckled, making light of the history he had with the new Arrow McLaren employee. The more at ease Pato felt, the more likely he’d be willing to talk about you.

“Honestly I could have gotten her a job at Ferrari if she showed interest,” Charles told him. He wasn’t sure if that was true or not, but Pato wasn’t going to talk if Charles was quick to shut down the topic of you. So he continued, “But she always talked about IndyCar. She only ever spent time at Formula 1 because of the history, because of her dad but her interests lied with your series. I think it’s because she grew up with Formula 1, you know, there was no more fascination. IndyCar is almost like a challenge for her…she did always like to challenge herself. I hope this career is good for her- I think it will be, I think it’s what she needs. I mean, I guess I don't really know what she needs but I hope she finds it at Arrow McLaren.”

Where the fuck did that come from?

Even Pato was a little taken aback. He didn’t show it on his face, but he certainly hadn’t expected Charles to say any of those words about you. There was a longing in Charles’ tone. He wasn’t just speaking highly of you, he was pulling from his heaviest memories, his cherished moments. He wasn’t just telling Pato everything that Pato probably already knew. Charles was reminding himself of the person you were, the person you still are.

The person he didn’t know anymore.

Charles cleared his throat, “Do you talk to her? Or not so much in the off season?”

Pato moved on along with Charles, as best as he could, offering him a faint shrug, “I chatted with her earlier tonight. She’s in the middle of a move, actually.”

“To the states?” Charles asked.

“Bristol, I think,” Pato racked his memory but was confident with his answer. “She lived in Paris for a bit but is going to spend the next few months in Bristol before heading to the states at the end of February.”

Bristol did not come as a surprise to Charles.

“If you could move anywhere, where would you go?” You had once asked him. Although, your timing was poor as you were both currently lounging on the front of his yacht in the French Riviera. Why would he want to move anywhere else when everything he needed, for the most part, was right here?

“I don’t want to move,” Charles gave you the answer you had expected. He turned his head to face you, arm resting on the back of the chair. He had sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose but he took them off his face and handed them to you when he realised you were squinting as you looked at him.

“I’d move to Bristol,” you told him, unprompted. His sunglasses were a little big for your face, but the gesture was sweet.

“Bristol,” he repeated. “Why Bristol?”

“It’s beautiful,” you said. “Rich in history and culture. I’d live on the seaside. I’d spend my days in the market. There’s still a bit of a nightlife if I feel like going out. But It’s serene there. I’d be happy there.”

Charles sat up a bit, “Monaco has all that. Why don’t you just move here?”

You laughed. As if moving to Monaco was that easy.

Regardless, Monaco was missing something you cherished.

“I enjoy the cold weather, Charles.” You said as if this wasn’t something he already knew. “Bristol’s like the perfect place. It doesn’t snow often but it still drops in temperature during the winter and if I wanted a white Christmas I could just drive a few hours inland. I can’t thrive in 365 days of heat. Sometimes I just want to make a cup of tea and curl up on the couch with a blanket.”

Charles admired a lot of things about you, but near the top of that list was how much you appreciated the little things in your life. You were raised in wealth, with a name that everyone was familiar with, but you were simple. You worked hard for what you wanted and you cherished what you had. You never asked for anything more and you were always content, never one to complain. You were probably the most down to earth person he’d ever met.

So no, it wasn’t shocking to hear that you had moved out of your flat in Paris to spend a few months in Bristol. To get that British winter one more time before moving for your career.

“I’m sure she’s around here somewhere if you-” Pato stopped mid sentence, his eyes landing on something, someone, behind Charles.

Naturally, Charles turned over his shoulder to look.

There you were.

Part of your hair was pinned back with a pearl hair clip. You opted out of a dress, going for a matching skirt and cropped blazer instead, pairing it with a pair of heels only a shade darker. You were chatting with someone that Charles didn’t recognise, a champagne glass held delicately between your fingers. You were so into your conversation that you had no idea that you had gained the attention of not just one driver, but two.

Charles wasn’t the only one who was dying to spend some time with you tonight.

He turned back at Pato and Charles would be lying to himself if he said his blood didn’t boil over at the way Pato was looking at you. He was envious in this moment. He knew you were larger than life, but you were such a well kept secret, his secret, and you were the farthest thing from that now.

Pato muttered something about catching up with Charles later and all Charles could do was watch as the IndyCar driver made his way over to you. You greeted him with a warm smile. His hand found your lower back with ease, like he had placed it there before. You handed him the champagne glass in your hand and Pato took a sip, holding it onto it, like that was normal. Like you shared drinks with him before.

And Charles knew he didn’t have any sort of right to care, to question, to even wonder what you were doing now but god it pained him to think that you were possibly, probably, sleeping with Pato O’Ward.

When did that start? Before you signed your contract or after? Did that matter? No of course it didn’t matter. None of it mattered because Charles was with Alex. He made that choice, he let you go. He foolishly, stupidly, regrettably, let you go and now he had to watch from the sidelines as you lived your life without him. You found the career you wanted, not in Formula 1.

If you were with Pato, there was no doubt in Charles’ mind that Pato treated you better than he did. He was a stand up guy, he was charming, he leaned in and whispered something in your ear that had you blushing in seconds.

How Charles was feeling wasn’t fair and he knew it. He knew he was in the wrong. He knew he couldn’t be jealous seeing you with someone else. You had moved on, you had every right to move on.

He knew that it shouldn’t have taken seeing you with Pato to realise he had made a mistake. This was a conclusion he should have come to a while ago, honestly he should have never even let you go in the first place. And maybe he did know it and just didn’t want to admit it until it was screaming at him, a brutal hit to the face over and over until he just couldn’t ignore the bruises anymore.

He shouldn’t have let you go.

But he did and this was the price he had to pay. He watched from the outside, watched you change and grow through the stories he overheard and pictures you shared. He was a mere crumb in your life now compared to when you handed him your heart on a silver platter.

Charles regretted everything. He regretted that he left you waiting for him to say ‘I love you’ and at the very least, hoping he would say ‘don’t go’ and instead gave you nothing. Now he couldn’t say any of those words. Now you didn’t talk.

He left the party early. Alex didn’t say anything on the ride back to the hotel. Neither did he. What was there left to say anyway?

But the silence from her left less of a hole than the silence he got from you.

He sat in the hotel bar while Alex packed up her suitcase and asked the front desk for a new room. She wasn’t going to leave. Not yet, at least. Just give Charles the space he needed and honestly, Charles knew she was waiting for him to return to her once he came to his senses, like he did last time.

Because Alex gave him what he wanted. Comfort, but she didn’t ask for it in return. Adoration, but didn’t expect the love to be reciprocated. She played the part of the girlfriend and she played it well, accompanying Charles wherever, whenever. Alex thought that if she played the long game, Charles would love her. Charles would see a future with her.

You, though, you didn’t have time to wait. You weren’t going to sit ideally and beg for him to love you back. You weren’t going to tell him that you’d wait for him, that you’d be there if things with Alex didn’t work out.

You moved on.

Charles tried to accept that, really. He tried to just focus on the last two races and not about what you were doing. If Bristol was everything you dreamt it was. If Pato and you were together. He tried not to think about anything that revolved around you.

He thought he could at least make it to the New Year, and maybe he would have. He might have reconnected with Alex on the 31st if he successfully went the entire month of December without his mind trailing back to you.

But the second his friend who resided in London called him up and asked if he wanted to attend a fashion show he was part of...well, it was embarrassing how fast Charles agreed to go. Because London was certainly closer to Bristol than Monaco was. And if he was in London, it was hard to find a reason why he shouldn’t just…go to Bristol.

Actually it was very easy to find dozens of reasons. Charles simply ignored all of them.

He didn’t think this plan through at all, which was why he stood outside your door for nearly five minutes before knocking. What was he going to say?

For starters, he was really hoping you wouldn’t ask how he knew where you lived. Charles didn’t feel like explaining the hoops he had to jump through that may or may not have involved Joris at one point pretending to be your brother and calling your place of employment.

It was fucked up. Charles could admit that. But if he could admit that, he could admit it wasn’t the only fucked up thing he did. Letting you walk away from him was at the top of that list.

When you opened the door, you weren’t upset to see him, but you weren’t happy either. Charles carried that vibe the entire time he was inside, starting from when you reluctantly let him in to the way you handed him his cup of tea without so much as a word.

“How’s Alexandra?” You asked him. Charles could tell you were only trying to be polite.

“Do you care?” He asked in return.

No hesitation from you as you shook your head, “I do not.”

He always admired your honesty. He was still scared shitless at the way you could quite literally kill someone with kindness, but he also respected it. You were the only person he knew who’s gentle smile had the ability to send someone cowering. It was a skill, truly.

“So let’s not talk about her,” he suggested and you nodded, but you also weren’t about to let the conversation carry on if it was pointless.

“Charles if you don’t tell me why you’re here…”

He had an entire drive to figure out how he wanted to word this. He had a whole plane ride to put together the perfect sentence, the perfect mix of apologies and admittance and instead his mind was blank. He didn’t know the words to say to you, not after going so long without saying anything.

But he lifted his head and met your eyes. He thought about reaching for your hand only to decide against it because your hand wasn’t his to hold anymore.

“I shouldn’t have let you go,” he said, voice low, breaking almost. He shook his head, repeating it. “I made a mistake, I shouldn’t have let you go. I don’t want to be someone who’s not in your life. I don’t want to be someone who means nothing to you anymore. I-”

I love you, he wanted to say.

Because he did.

At least, he thought he did. At one point, he knew he could. If he could then, he could now, right? He could still love you. If you took him back, if you found a way to still love him, Charles wanted to love you back in the same way.

Or maybe he just didn’t want you to love anyone else.

“Charles you don’t know how to love anyone,” you knew exactly what he was going to say. And at one point, you wanted to hear it. Now, though? This was the one time you were hoping he didn’t say it.

“That’s not true.”

“It is,” you stated, like you knew him better than he knew himself. Maybe you did. “You don’t want to love someone, you just want to be loved.”

“I want to be in love with you.”

“That’s not the same and you know it,” your words could have cut through him like glass if your tone wasn’t so soft.

Charles shifted uncomfortably. This conversation hadn’t gone as planned, but what was he truly expecting? You’d take him back? You were better off without him. Anyone could see that.

“Listen, I had to get over you and you weren’t even mine, Charles. Do you know how twisted that is? The only person to blame for my broken heart was myself because I knew, all along, you weren’t mine. I knew it and I went along anyway and I’m not doing that again. I will not love you again. I don’t need another wave of self destruction and false hope and unrequited love. I am happy, okay? I didn’t need you to come here with some sort of declaration that you can’t even say with your chest. I don’t- I don’t need that. I don’t need you.”

He still tried, still attempted to win you back with the what if’s but you saw through it. You cut him off before he could finish his question. What if I do need you?

You shook your head, staying firm with your decision. “It’s over now, Charles. It was over then and it’s over now.”

Charles believed that. He repeated your words the entire way home. He could never give you the closure you needed so you gave it to yourself and you seemed adamant that your past with Charles was going to stay there, in the past.

He didn’t get back together with Alex. He couldn’t. He ended things the second he returned to Monaco. She asked if you were the reason and Charles didn’t really have an answer. You weren’t dating, but you were still there. In the back of his mind, in his dreams, everywhere he looked he saw you.

He didn’t think he’d actually see you again. He knew you were moving in the New Year. That you had officially gone on with your life.

So imagine his surprise when you showed up at his door on New Years Eve.

Smudged mascara under your eyes, an unopened bottle of wine in your hands and a dress that left very little to the imagination. Charles had hundreds of questions, for you, for himself, like was he just imagining this?

And then you stepped past him, sliding your heels off and immediately going to his cupboard to pull out two empty wine glasses. It was a screw top, the bottle in your hands, Charles wondered where you got it but he didn’t ask. He just let you pour a very healthy amount into each of the glasses. He didn’t say anything when you handed one to him, you both just took a sip in peace.

Charles wasn’t sure where he found his voice, but he somehow managed to. And he said the stupidest fucking thing ever.

“I thought we were over.”

“We are,” you stated, taking another sip. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror behind him and you tried to wipe your undereyes but the dry pads of your fingers did little to help.

Charles stepped into the bathroom to grab one of those white hand towels that he hung on the rack. He ran it under some warm water before making his way back to you. He was hesitant to step close, but you didn’t flinch away.

So he raised his hand to your cheek, holding you still as he wiped away the stains of mascara, the remains of whatever you were crying over. His touch was gentle. You could feel his breath hit your face and you couldn’t help but glance at his lips. You hadn’t been this close since Paris.

“Thank you,” you whispered when he dropped the cloth to the sink.

Charles didn’t back up after. He stayed with his hand on the side of your face, even sliding his fingers against your scalp to get tangled in your hair. Something he knew you loved. You hummed at the feeling, how normal this seemed, like you weren’t the one to end things that last time around.

Unlike last time, Charles was the one to ask, “Why are you here, Y/N?”

You shook your head, wishing he could just accept this for what it was. You didn’t want to have a conversation.

So you reached for the front of his shirt, dragging your hand up to the collar as you brought your lips closer to his. The little twitch in the corner of your mouth, that faint smirk, it ruined Charles. His hand found your waist, he was only human.

“Please, Charles,” you breathed out. Not a beg, a request if anything. “Now is not the time to talk.”

#charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 one shot #f1 fic #holllandtrash #say dont go #cl16 x reader #cl16

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nathaslosthershit · 4 days

Text

Long Distance (LN4)

Summary: Long distance relationships are hard, especially when they both have very time consuming careers

Warnings; Angst (a whole lot), no happy ending in this part (will happen in pt 2)

Request: hi!! requesting a lando norris x female uni!reader if possible reader being a medical student or a one of the engineers on the paddock 🧍🏻‍♀️

Lando wasn’t known for being the smartest on the grid. He, like many other drivers, had only a few years of school to his name. But that still hadn’t stopped him from being able to somehow ‘woo’ a woman quite the opposite.

His girlfriend was currently in her last year of medical school. While he was unbelievably proud of how far she had come, the difficulties of long distance have gotten to both of them, and there wasn’t much hope once she graduated and was off to a medical training program. With her studying for finals and Lando being off to a new country every two weeks for Grand Prixs, their relationship has been rocky to say the least.

Constant lack of communication and missing each other's calls had led them to have tons of unspoken dialogue. Each unanswered call created the smallest bit of resentment that just continued to grow and grow.

No more sweet ‘goodmorning’ or ‘goodnight’ texts, no more wishing her well before a big test, no more sending ‘good luck baby!’ before qualifying. Just a few ‘how are you doing?’ and other bland messages you’d send to a coworker, not your significant other.

After weeks of little communication, they had finally scheduled a ‘zoom date’. Not particularly the most romantic date they had been on, but it's the best they could do with their schedules. Lando called in late at night for him while his girlfriend had a lunch break in between labs. Time zones be damned.

Lando was 25 minutes late leaving only 35 minutes to actually talk to one another.

Her wifi was spotty so it kept freezing.

Finally, with only 5 minutes left, Lando decided to make a joke that there is no reason for her to continue going to labs, as he would be happy to be her ‘sugar daddy’. This was not very well received by his girlfriend, who responded with a quick “fuck you” and hung up early.

Lando was joking, a bit. He loved his girlfriend and saw a future with her, he just couldn’t stand long distance and any job in the medical field was bound to take up most of your time. He wanted her, but he also wanted someone who could be by his side on race day. That just wasn’t something that was possibly currently.

He supported her. He loved to brag about how smart she was and how she was so dedicated to helping people. But that came with setbacks.

After a quick message from Lando (‘I was kidding darling. You know how proud I am of you. Lighten up a little, yeah?’), which she ignored, she was off to her labs in a worse mood than before. Things couldn’t go on like this.

He hadn’t heard from her in three days. His “how are you, love?” and “Miss you lots. Hope your class is going better than my neck training :(“ went unanswered. She knew she was being petty, but maybe a relationship was just too hard for her life currently.

After three long and stressful days of silence, she called him. With no message asking what she needed to speak about, Lando feared he already knew.

“We can’t keep doing this” She said after they quickly exchanged a ‘hi, how are you?’ ‘I'm good, how are you?’.

“Baby, I told you it was just a-”

“I know that Lando! It's just that this isn’t the first time you have mentioned me quitting my career to be your housewife or whatever unrealistic idea you have stuck in your head.”

“I don’t need you to be a housewife! I don’t want that for you. I just try to let you know that you don’t need to worry about your future as much because I will always be there to help you.”

“But I want a career! I want to work hard so I can have a good future. You need to get it into your head that your career isn’t the only important one.”

“I don’t think that! Me wanting to let you know that I support you no matter what isn't diminishing your career plans! It would be nice if you started to show a little more support. I am so sick and tired of all our conversations revolving around you and how your day was. If classes are rough, or you are stressed, you don’t respond to me. I never know where I land with you. But god forbid I try to mention how hard my day was. I am just as sick of it.”

She didn’t know how to respond. It seems that all the times she has been more focused on how she was feeling she completely forgot to check on how he was doing. Before she can even muster out an apology, Lando jumps back in.

“Maybe you are right. I don’t think I can do this either. Not anymore.” He feels his stomach dropping as he says the words, not fully meaning them.

There is a long silence, moments where she wants to apologize, to try and reconcile. In that moment all of the good memories of their relationship come flashing back to her, as if her mind is begging her to do something. But she doesn’t.

“Then I guess this is it.” She finally says.

“I guess so.”

#formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando x reader

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cupid-styles · 13 days

Text

golf (sugar daddy h)

word count: 1.3k

content warnings: spicy but no smut, dirty talk, degradation, exhibitionism if you squint

sugar daddy h masterlist | main masterlist

talk to me

. . .

Mia doesn't care about golf.

Not once in her life has she ever thought it was a fascinating sport. There are some sports, like hockey or baseball, that, at the very least, seem hot, if not a little attractive, but golf isn't one of those.

And of course, Harry loves to golf.

It's nothing against him, really. If she's being honest, in her eyes, golf is a rich man's sport. Since they started seeing each other months ago, Harry has always made it a point to go golfing at least once a week. He has a membership to a country club nearby and either goes by himself, with his friends, or takes business partners there, where they spend the day drinking and hitting balls and whatever else wealthy people do at country clubs.

Mia wouldn't know because she's never gone and, quite frankly, she never wants to go.

She adores Harry. She really, truly does, but being a frequent attender of the country club to play such a silly, boring sport just serves as another class barrier between them. Harry grew up going to golf camp, for crying out loud! Mia spent her summers working at the local ice cream shop, where she got paid $7 an hour to get yelled at by angry parents because she was only allowed to let their kids taste three flavors before they had to buy something.

So when Harry asks if she wants to spend her Saturday golfing with him at the club, she tries to come up with a million excuses as to why she can't. But because he's him, and he has a pretty face and a soothing voice and he threw in the prospect of spoiling her with a massage at the spa after they finished their game, she can't find it in her to say no.

Harry has a business dinner the night before so Mia sleeps at her own place, which she's kind of surprised with, to be honest. (She anticipated him asking her to stay over so she didn't have a chance to get out of it.) Even despite the text he sent her at 11:40 pm to let her know that he got home safely (that's basically 2 am in Harry time), he shows up to her house in his golf clothes at 9 am on the dot, breakfast and coffee in hand.

Mia has to physically drag herself out of bed to let him in, a scowl on her face, even though he went out of his way to go to her favorite bagel shop.

"Morning, grumpy," he greets cheekily, smushing a kiss to her cheek. He doesn't even bother toeing his shoes off like he normally does, instead giving her bum a soft pat when she turns back around, "We have reservations at the club for 10, so you should go get dressed. You can eat in the car."

"Are you sure you want me to go?" Mia asks, and Harry has to ignore the slight hopefulness to her tone, "I've never even played golf before, I don't think I'll be very good—"

"It's not about being good, honey, I just want to spend the day with you. Show you off, y'know?" he leans forward to press a kiss to her temple before ducking down to catch her ear. "Now be good and go get dressed."

He doesn't catch the narrowing of her eyes as she reluctantly heads back to her bedroom, where she grabs the stupid golf outfit he insisted on buying her for this very occasion. She told him she was fine with wearing leggings and a tee-shirt, but he explained to her that there was a certain etiquette that came with golf, which included clothing. (Like Mia said, it's a rich man's sport.) So he bought her a short little skirt and a workout top and, if she's being frank, she's not sure if it's not more for him than it is for the game itself.

She tried it on a few days ago when he brought it over and she batted at his chest when she saw the length of the skirt on her — unlike those trendy workout skorts that had spandex shorts underneath, the pleats of the one Harry purchased barely went down to the tops of her thighs. With a grumble, she said she'd just wear boyshorts to make sure no one "saw the goods."

But now that she's getting dressed for their golf day, she thinks she has a better idea.

. . .

Mia sucks at golf.

Harry keeps trying to encourage her and help her, but they're on hole 8 of 18, and she's exhausted. It's warm, she's sweaty, and Harry's beating her ass in the game. (What else would you expect from someone who spent their summer vacations playing every day?)

"You got this, baby," he says, giving her waist a small squeeze as they approach hole nine. She rolls her eyes from behind her sunglasses, rolling out her wrist in an effort to get rid of the cramps. "Do you still need me to help you?"

Just as she's about to say yes, she remembers the impulsive decision she made this morning. And she realizes she knows exactly how to get this game to end.

"Actually, I think I can do it," she replies with a smile, jumping out from the golf cart. "Will you just stand behind me and make sure I'm doing it right?"

Harry's pleasantly surprised but nods his head, a zip of enthusiasm firing through his chest. He follows her out and stands with his hands on his hips as she sets herself up, trying to find her stance.

Per Harry's instructions, she leans over just slightly, a small bend in her knees. And that's when he sees it.

She's not wearing anything underneath her skirt.

"Mia," he growls, ambling towards her to cover her from behind, "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Um, I think it's called teeing off? That's what you said, anyway—"

"Not that," he mutters, a protective hand squeezing her hip. He glances around them to make sure no one's watching them as his fingers dance down to the hem of her skirt, gently pulling it down. "Why aren't you wearing any underwear, Mia?"

"Ohhhh, that?" she asks, turning in his grasp. "I must've forgotten them. I'm sorry."

She has a look of false innocence on her face, her eyes rounded slightly and her lips pouted as if she was truly making a genuine apology. He's seething — he wants nothing more than to bend her over his knee and issue loud, harsh smacks to her ass, but he thinks she would like that too much.

"You're such a fucking slut." he mumbles angrily, his jaw clenching. He grabs the golf club from her hand and uses his other to yank her back in the direction of the golf cart, a surprised yelp sounding from her mouth. "Are you that much of a brat that you've been walking around with your pussy out all day?"

She shrugs nonchalantly as she climbs into the golf cart. Harry rolls his eyes and shifts the key into the ignition, starting the machine back up.

"Guess you'll just have to take me home, then," Mia replies with a sigh. Harry snorts and shakes his head.

"You fucking wish," he says. She blinks at him. "No, baby. I'm gonna take you into one of those private bathrooms, edge you until you're crying, and then we're gonna finish this game."

Mia's eyes widen, shifting uncomfortably in her seat as he drives over a bump in the road.

"Good thing I brought that nifty little remote control vibrator with me," he continues with a smirk. "Had a feeling you'd be a fuckin' brat today."

Mia doesn't know if she's ever regretted something so much before.

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fangirlika · 11 months

Note

yes yes yes !! for a pt2 of learning hours because that was hot. thinking abt the build up to them actually realising their feelings after charles makes her feel good....AHHH

me too bestie, me too… but first of all, thank you for all of your feedback! And to fulfill all of you guys’ wishes, here is part 2 to Learning Hours! I decided against directly connecting it to where we left off in part 1 but I hope you still enjoy reading it <3

Study Break

MASTERLIST

pairing: Charles Leclerc x female!reader

summary: “I wouldn’t want it to ruin our friendship, you know?” “It doesn’t have to.” But oh how wrong you were… part 2 to this.

warnings: nsfw, smut, porn with plot?? who would’ve thought, fluff, bad French, reader and Charles in denial

“You fucked?!”

“Psst, Pierre, say it louder because I think not the entire paddock has heard you…”, Charles grumbled and looked around him slightly to check if anyone was actually close enough to hear them talking.

“Désolé, but how do you want me to react when you tell me that you and Y/n slept with each other?”, Pierre whisper-shouted now with a frown on his face.

Charles only rolled his eyes.

“Je ne sais pas comment c'est arrivé, but it has been happening a little more often these past weeks”, Charles admitted honestly whilst scratching the back of his neck. I don’t know how it happened

Pierre sighed and patted his friend on the back. “Oh, you’re in deep shit, mate.”

In deep shit he was indeed.

It’s been a little more than a month since you and Charles had sex for learning purposes for the first time but it definitely hadn’t been the last time.

After you gave him head he insisted on returning the favour to you immediately.

“Please”, he whispered against your lips, “let me make you feel good.”

You couldn’t turn him down, not then, not any of the times after that.

That day, Charles ate you out like a man starved, something your ex-boyfriend never dared to try out and really, you didn’t know what you missed out on.

Charles indeed made you feel good, he always does, and he probably gave you your most intense orgasm so far with his tongue alone. For the next few days after you couldn’t help but wonder what he could do to you with his dick.

And oh he did show you.

It was safe to say that with one single orgasm he made you feel better than your ex ever did in all of your time together.

After that, it seemed as if you two couldn’t stay away from each other.

Whether you two were at your or his place, whether it was in the evening or in the middle of the day - you almost always ended up as a tangled mess in bed or on the couch even.

But you were friends, that was what you were desperately trying to convince yourself of.

But all effort was without success because whenever Charles smiled at you when you were laying underneath him in bed or when you looked up at him while sucking him off, you couldn’t help but feel the butterflies erupt inside your stomach.

It wasn’t just lust, it was something else as well. Something you were yet too scared to narrow down and confront exactly. You were scared of ruining whatever the two of you had.

You should’ve probably broken up whatever deal you had going on weeks ago but it all also felt far too good to quit.

That is how you found yourself in the current situation, with his dick hot and heavy inside your mouth.

You two had been watching a movie together at his place - which one you didn’t remember, it didn’t really matter from the beginning on because since the first minute of the movie your mind has been on everything Charles did sitting beside you on the couch.

His arm was lazily draped around your shoulders and you were leaning into his side, something the two of you have been doing for years but it seems like now you can’t do this without it becoming heated afterwards.

You were half an hour into the movie before Charles turned your head to face him and pressed his lips to yours.

“I think it’s stupid to keep pretending that either of us is paying attention to the TV…”, he muttered against your lips and you just smiled into the kiss.

No matter how many times you and Charles had made out by now, he never failed to knock the air out of your lungs with how his lips moved against yours and how his tongue danced around your tongue.

“Wanna take this to the bedroom?”, Charles broke the kiss and mumbled. You could only nod your head, still breathless from the kiss, and Charles smiled before he pecked your lips once again and pulled you into his lap. He then stood up with you in his arms and made his way towards his bedroom down the hall.

During that, you started to press wet kisses along his neck and jawline, your lips sucking a little on the spots you knew made his breath stutter.

As absurd as it sounds, the two of you had almost developed a routine on how to get the other one into the mood, something friends certainly do, right?

Charles pushed open the door to his bedroom with his foot and in a matter of seconds he had you underneath him on the edge of his bed, his upper-body hovering above yours. He took a moment to look you in the eyes with a small smile on his lips before he pressed them onto the side of your neck, just like you did to him only mere seconds ago.

You couldn’t help but let out a small moan at the contact.

Your hands fiddled with the hem of his shirt in a silent plead for him to take it off. And he did pull away from your neck to remove his shirt. You used this moment to pull off yours over your head as well, lazily tossing it somewhere on the carpet for you to pick up later - or tomorrow most likely.

Charles' gaze immediately shifted towards your tits. Since you had only been lounging inside the house for most of the day, you decided to not wear a bra. Charles knew that, hell, he was hyper aware of your nipples poking through the thin cotton material of your shirt the entire day.

“I love your tits”, he said and moved both of his hands to knead them softly. You only let out a chuckle at that, followed up by a moan when Charles pinched your right nipple with his fingers.

“L-let me suck you off, yeah?”, you moaned out and Charles audibly let out a groan at your proposal before nodding his head.

God, he loved how forward you were in bed too. When you two started this, he expected you to be a lot more shy and hesitant but he took pride in the fact that you seemed to be so comfortable with him.

Charles' cock was already hard when he pulled down his sweatpants and boxers and stepped out of them, using his foot to push them towards the pile of clothing that started forming on the carpet.

Immediately you sat up, mouth watering at the sight of his cock in front of your face. You licked your right hand before you wrapped it around the base of his cock, observing his reaction thoroughly. You smirked when you saw how he screw his eyes shut at the contact and let out a silent moan, his mouth hanging open a little.

You stroked his cock a few times before you used your tongue to lick up the length of his cock and over the tip. Charles' hand made it’s way to your hair, pushing some loose strands behind your ears, almost lovingly.

Despite the situation starting to get thoroughly filthy, the atmosphere between you was calm and somewhat familiar.

“You feel so good around me, keep going”, he whispered in encouragement and let out another groan as you wrapped your lips around his cock and started to move up and down his length as far as you could.

You looked up at him and your eyes met. Charles could’ve come at the sight alone and therefore decided to gently pull his hips away so that he slipped out of your mouth.

You looked at him confused but he only pushed you back onto the bed by your shoulders. “Wanna come inside you”, he mumbled which made you smile.

“Okay?”, he asked for confirmation and you nodded.

“Yes, please.”

Charles gave you a quick kiss and then made his way down your stomach until he kissed the hem of your panties. One of his fingers pressed agains your clothed clit which earned him a whine from your mouth.

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties before pulling them down and off your legs. You slightly shuddered as your core got exposed to the cooler air of the apartment and the wandering eyes of Charles.

The first time he saw you completely naked, you were still a little nervous but seeing the way he looked at you somehow made all your nervousness vanish.

“Belle”, he whispered and pressed a kiss to your inner thigh. “Please, Charles, get on with it”, you whined which earned you a light slap to your clit. You moaned and bit your lip right after.

Charles was never too rough with you, not wanting to scare you away or hurt you in any way but little things like these - he couldn’t help himself when he got to hear you moan so sweetly afterwards.

“Bossy again?”, he teased when he got up from his sitting position in front of the bed. You only let out a huff at his words and wrapped one of your legs around the back of his to pull him towards you, eager to feel him inside you again.

Charles had already taken his cock into his hand, ready to line himself up with your pussy when an idea came to his mind.

“Ready for another lesson?”, he asked with a smirk.

He probably expected you to nod your head with the same eagerness you displayed before but you couldn’t help but feel a little sting to your heart at his words. They reminded you what this seemingly still was: lessons, only teaching you how to feel good - no feelings involved.

Charles noticed the brief change of your facial expression before you forced up a smile and nodded. He hated to pretend that all this was just for learning purposes, to him it was more than that. And your reaction gave him the small hope that maybe you felt the same.

Nevertheless, he didn’t say anything and just continued with his proposal: “Soo, we have tried some positions by now but one thing we haven’t done yet is your riding me”, he spoke while stroking the soft skin of your inner thigh. “Would you be interested in that?”, he asked with an underlying tone of nervousness in his question.

You clenched your core at the thought of you sitting on his dick and riding him even though you would definitely lie to yourself if you claimed you hadn’t thought of that before.

“Lay down then, Leclerc”, was your response and you gave him a challenging smirk, one he immediately returned.

“Your wish is my command, L/n”, he teased before laying down on the bed and leaning his back against the headboard. You straddled him and moaned when you felt him between your folds.

“Go slow, okay baby?”, he said and put his hands on your hips. You answered him with a nod and sat up slightly before you lined up his cock with your entrance.

You slowly sank down on him which made your rally feel him inch by inch. You held eye contact the entire time and your mouth hung open while his brows were furrowed together to handle the insane feeling that was being inside you again.

When you bottomed out you took a moment to adjust to his size again. In this position you felt even fuller than ever before.

Charles squeezed your hips slightly and asked: “You okay?” You nodded and started to move up and down in his lap slowly but surely.

It only took a few strokes before the dull pain of him inside you vanished and was replaced with the familiar pleasurable feeling you had every time you two had sex.

You started to build a rhythm of moving your hips up and down his length and felt the familiar warmth building up in your core.

“You’re doing so good for me, love”, Charles groaned out and squeezed your hips tighter to keep himself from fucking up into you. He liked you in control but it took a lot of willpower for him to restrain himself from speeding up the rhythm himself.

You kept your rhythm and started to circle your hips slightly as well which caused him to hit that spongy spot inside your core once again and made you moan out his name in pleasure.

“Feels so- so good”, you managed to stutter out. “I’m close”, you moaned out after that and you struggled to keep up the rhythm with your hips.

Charles noticed and finally started meeting your thrusts with his hips pushing upwards and even deeper into you with had you seeing stars in a matter of seconds.

“My god, Charles”, you almost screamed out when you came with trembling legs and clenching your core. The sensation of you coming all over his cock didn’t fail to push him over the edge as well. He continued to fuck up into you during both of your highs but his thrusts began to stutter and became sloppier with each one.

“So good for me”, he repeated and caressed the skin of your hips while he closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing. You attempted the same but you were unable to keep yourself up anymore and therefore almost fell onto his sweaty chest.

The room felt hot and sticky, just like your skin and the only audible thing were your ragged breaths.

Charles moved his hands to caress your back in small, mindless circles. The action made you smile agains his chest.

The two of you stayed in that moment for a little while before you moved your head up to look him in the eyes.

What you didn’t expect was that he was already looking at you with an expression you still failed to read but one you had seen increasingly more often these past weeks.

You stared at each other with the same loving expression on your face for what felt like an eternity.

“Y/n”, he started but quiet frankly, he didn’t know what to say exactly. Charles generally was a confident guy but you somehow managed to have him at a loss for words most of the times.

“I think we can stop pretending that this is only for learning purposes”, he whispered and internally he was ever so scared of your reaction.

He didn’t know what he expected you to reply. Only in the far back of his mind he allowed himself to believe that he wasn’t alone with that realisation of his feelings.

Your response therefore came as nothing less but a surprise to him. “I don’t like saying it, but you are more than right, Leclerc”, you said with a smirk before you pulled yourself up a little and leaned into his face.

Charles laid one of his hands on your cheek before he flipped the two of you around so that you were laying underneath him again. He wasted no time in kissing you with anything he could give to you, trying to pour all his emotions into the kiss.

“Please be mine”, he mumbled against your lips.

“I’m already yours”, you replied breathlessly.

—————

Ahhh nervous for your reactions but oh please let me know what you think <333 I enjoyed writing this so much and aww I fell in love with Charles and Y/n here

here I’m tagging everyone who asked for a second part in the comments, I hope you don’t mind or else let me know!

@tempo-rary-fix @spicyclover @charlesswife @oscarissacsslut @dakotali @celine-xox @mysticalnightenthusiast @formulas-bitch @basicallyherondale @shyshva @teenagedreams-cl

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