#I posted this gif a long time ago and forgot about it
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Hiii love your writingggg, could you plsss do very innocent!reader and pervy!ethan 🫶🏻
Hiii! I hope you like it, even though you requested this MONTHS ago.
I'm not innocent, so I'm not the best at writing it🙃 Hopefully this is okay:)
Creep - Pervy!Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader
This contains SMUT - Minors DNI
Summary: You ask Ethan for help in econ, and once Mindy mentions the empty bedroom in the apartment she shares with Ethan and Chad, you agree to move in. But you realize that your sweet, dorky new roommate has been stealing your panties.
Contains: Pervy kinda creepy Ethan, innocent inexperienced reader, fingering. m!masturbation.
A/N: Okay...this needs a part 2 but I'm already at 5k words lmao. A lot of fics I've read along these lines had had Ethan more subby, but not in this one. 👀
*For the poll I posted earlier today, this one had the most votes at the time of me posting this fic. I'm going to write them all in the order that they're wanted:)*
It seemed like your life was starting to fall apart. You couldn’t stand your roommate, your boyfriend had broken up with you, and your grade for econ was starting to tank. When you brought up your grade to your professor after class, hoping to figure out some way to raise it, she suggested that you talk to Ethan Landry.
The next time you had class, you beelined towards him once he walked in. He noticed you, getting a little nervous the closer you got. He wasn’t the best at talking to girls, he even thought this could’ve been a figment of his imagination that the girl he struggled to take his eyes off was walking to him. He was chewing the inside of his cheek, his eyes not leaving you until you were finally face to face.
“Ethan, right?” you sweetly said, as he nodded. “I hear you’re the best for tutoring, and I desperately need your help if you have the time.”
“I’ll make the time,” he spat out, before he internally screamed at himself for sounding so desperate to help. “I mean, I can help you.”
“You’re a lifesaver,” you said, as you pulled out your phone. “What’s your number?”
“Oh, um…” he trailed off, racking his brain for those ten digits that he suddenly forgot. “I’m sorry, it’s been a long day.”
“It’s okay,” you smiled, “Are you okay with me just giving you my number and you can text me so we can set something up?”
“Yeah,” he said, as he pulled out his phone and went to create a new contact. He passed you his phone as you typed in your name and number, before you handed it back to him.
“Don’t forget to text me,” you said, a sweet smile playing on your lips as you turned to walk back to your seat.
“I won’t,” he said, tightly gripping his phone in his hand as you turned to smile at him once more.
He was struggling to focus as he sat through that class. His fingers kept rubbing over the phone screen that your thumbs had moved across, and he started to realize how pathetic he was for already being so addicted to you when you’d only spoken to him once.
Later that week, you were supposed to meet Ethan in the library to study. You both completely forgot about the renovations they were doing, the normally quiet space filled with the loud sounds of the various pieces of machinery on the opposite side of the room.
“Maybe we should try to do this some other time,” you yelled over the noise. “I can’t concentrate on anything you’re saying.”
“Oh, okay,” Ethan said, looking down so you wouldn’t see the sad look on his face. That’s when he started to get an idea. “My apartment is only two blocks away. It should be quieter. You want to come over to study?”
You liked to be cautious, and you normally wouldn’t go to someone’s apartment that you barely knew, but Ethan seemed innocent enough, and you desperately needed to pass the class so you wouldn’t have to take it again.
“Sure,” you said, wincing as the noise in the room got louder.
You walked beside Ethan as you went to his apartment, and even though it was just for studying, he felt a glint of pride as he walked with you. He hoped that anyone who saw you together would think you were his.
“Hopefully my roommates won’t be too loud,” Ethan sighed, as he stuck his key in the front door.
“Nothing is worse than what’s going on in the library right now,” you said, as he shrugged.
“You say that now…”
You barely made it inside when you heard arguing. Ethan sighed in defeat before he turned to you, “I moved in with my friends, and they’re constantly arguing.”
“Oh,” you giggled, as you followed him into the living room of the apartment. “Oh, hey Mindy,” you said, as she turned to you and smiled.
“Hey! What are you doing here?” she asked, as she walked over to you. Chad just stood there, still worked up from the spat they were having when you walked in.
“Ethan’s trying to help me not fail econ,” you said, as she nodded.
“I remember you mentioning you were having trouble with it.”
Ethan was confused as he stood there, because Mindy had never mentioned you, but she seemed to know you quite well. The two of you talked for a few minutes, and once Ethan heard another guy’s name get mentioned, he immediately got jealous.
“I’m proud of you for not giving him another chance,” Mindy said, as you let out a small laugh.
“I’m not going to say I didn’t think about it, but I don’t need him making my life any harder than it needs to be right now,” you sighed, “On top of the bullshit with him, my roommate is just so awful. Like, she woke me up blasting music before the sun even came up today. I’m trying to find somewhere else to live, but I haven’t had any luck yet.”
“Well, we’re looking for a fourth roommate…” Mindy trailed off, as Ethan’s eyes grew wide. “It’d be nice to have another girl here.”
“Don’t tempt me,” you joked, as Mindy smiled.
“Seriously, think about it,” she said, before she started to yell. “Chad!”
You noticed that the other boy was no longer in the room, but you saw him again as he turned the corner and groaned. “What?”
“Okay, don’t be rude,” she snapped, “I’m trying to convince her to move into the fourth bedroom.”
“Oh,” Chad said, his annoyed face turning up in a smile. “Hey, I’m Chad.”
“Hey,” you said, before he started to go over rent and other things you’d need to know. “Why would I want to move in when you two argue like this?” you joked, as Chad tried to play it off.
“We shared a womb, we lived in the same house until we moved into our dorms, and I finally got a break from her,” he said, as she scoffed, “But now we have to live together again and we’re trying to figure out how to do that.”
“I’ve never lived with boys before…and I’m sure my parents would kill me if they ever found out, but I’ll definitely think about it,” you said, before you turned to Ethan. “I’m sorry, you want to study now?”
“Yeah, let’s go to my room,” he said, as he led you there.
You both got settled on his bed. He sat across from you, his back against the headboard as you adjusted to get more comfortable, laying on your stomach. He bit his lip once he noticed the perfect view he had down your shirt, the neckline barely covering anything as your chest was pressed against his bed.
“So, where should we start?” you asked, your soft voice barely getting his attention as he kept staring at your chest. He wanted to squeeze your boobs, suck on them, fuck them, even. “Ethan?” you questioned as you looked away from your notebook, and opened your laptop, completely blocking the sight he was fantasizing over.
“Oh, uh…” he said, as he opened his laptop. “Maybe let’s work on the quiz that’s due this weekend. It’ll show me what you do and don’t need help with.”
You spent over an hour studying with Ethan, and you felt like you were having a little bit of a better understanding. You were starting to get hungry, so you closed your laptop. Ethan glanced over his screen the second he noticed, getting another peak down your shirt again. This time, he saw a part of one of your nipples peaking out of your bra, the sight making his pants grow tighter. He fought off the sound that was threatening to come out before you sat up, once again taking his perfect view away from him.
“I’m starving,” you said, as you started to put your stuff away. “But thank you so much for your help, and I hope you’ll want to keep helping me. You’re my only hope.”
He softly chuckled at your words, “If you move in, we can study whenever you want.”
“You’d be cool with it?” you asked, smiling at him. “You didn’t really say anything out there and I didn’t want to actually start considering it until you said something.”
“Yeah, I think it’s cool,” he said, “If you do want to, and you need help moving or anything, let me know.”
“Thanks, Ethan,” you said, smiling again before you made your way out of his room.
He wanted to walk you to the door, but he knew the second he stood up, his hard cock would be so obvious. He ran his hand over the spot you were laying on the bed, your warmth still soaked up by his comforter. The view down your shirt was burned in his brain as he got up and walked over to the door, shutting and locking it before he dropped his pants to give his aching cock the attention it desperately needed.
The next time you had econ, you walked in and sat down beside Ethan. He didn’t notice at first, but he soon smelled the familiar scent that he couldn’t get out of his head after you’d left his apartment a few days before. He wasn’t sure if it was your hair or the perfume you were wearing, but it smelled delicious.
“Hey,” he smiled, his pupils growing large as he saw you. “Are you okay?”
He took in the stress on your face, and how tired you looked.
“Yeah, are you sure you’re cool with me moving in?” you asked, “Because I can’t deal with my roommate anymore.”
“Yeah, of course,” he said, “What happened?”
“She invites her boyfriend to stay over whenever she doesn’t have class the next morning,” you sighed, “I don’t want to explain all the sounds I had to listen to while I tried to sleep last night.”
“Oh,” he said softly, “Well, your room would be beside mine, and I wouldn’t keep you up all night.”
“I bet that’s why I’m failing this class right now. I never sleep,” you said, as you looked over to him. “Wait, you don’t have a girlfriend that stays over?”
“No,” he said, his cheeks turning pink at your question.
“Sex is overrated,” you shrugged, “But I really thought you would’ve had a girlfriend.”
“Really?” he asked, as your professor walked in.
“Yeah, you’re a cutie,” you smiled, before you directed your attention to the lecture.
Ethan was thankful that you were so focused and didn’t see the cheesy smile on his face. The girl he’d been thinking about as he jerked his cock for the last few days called him cute, and his heart was swelling.
After a couple weeks, Ethan, Chad, and Mindy showed up to the apartment you currently lived in while your roommate was at her boyfriend’s to help you move.
“First, I want you guys to know that none of this mess is mine,” you said, as soon as you answered the front door for them.
“Whoa,” Chad said as he glanced around. “There’s no way you live with a girl.”
“Yeah, you’ll never guess what I found on the kitchen floor this morning,” you said, as Mindy started to think.
“With the mess, I’m going to guess…dead mouse?”
“Not even close,” you said, as you shook your head and shuddered as you thought about it. “It was a condom.”
“Like…in the wrapper or…?” Chad asked, as you, once again, shook your head.
“Used.”
“Ewwww,” Mindy said, cringing at the thought. “Okay, is anything in the kitchen yours?”
“I already boxed that stuff up. Except the dishes that she’s refused to wash,” you said, as you led them to the living room. “The TV is mine, and that lamp,” you said, as you pointed, “But other than that, I really just have to worry about my room.”
“I think it’d be best to have all the heavy stuff in the living room so Ethan and I can worry about that,” Chad said, as you nodded and led them down the hall.
You had already packed up most of your room, which made it so easy for your new roommates to help you. Once Chad was carrying your mattress out and Mindy had ran out to get coffee, Ethan started to glance around your room. He noticed the hamper full of clothes in the corner, and he found himself inching closer towards it as he listened to you and Chad talk in the living room. Before he could stop himself, he grabbed a shirt off the top of the pile, inhaling its scent. He let out a deep breath before he went to put the shirt back in the hamper, before he noticed some black lace sticking out under a pair of your jeans. He snatched it out of the basket and put it in his pocket before he put the shirt back in it once he heard footsteps coming back down the hall.
“Did you need help with this?” Ethan asked, pointing to the basket, trying to make it not seem like he was being weird.
“Shit, I forgot to do laundry,” you groaned, as the realization hit him that the panties he’d grabbed had been worn. “I’ll carry that out.”
“Okay,” Ethan said, before Chad motioned for him to help with the dresser.
Later that day after you got your stuff moved into your new room, you flopped on your freshly made bed as Mindy popped in.
“So, I’m going to try to convince the guys to share a bathroom so you don’t have to share with Ethan,” she said, as you shrugged.
“It’s not a big deal,” you said, “I just hope he doesn’t mind all the girly stuff in the shower and the makeup and stuff.”
Ethan didn’t mind at all. In fact, he’d already been in the bathroom, smelling your body wash, your shampoo and conditioner. The skincare products you used. He realized that all those things together were the cause of the scent that made his head spin.
Later that night after you had takeout with everyone, Ethan excused himself to go to bed. He couldn’t stop thinking about your panties that were still in his pocket. Once he pulled them out, he ran his fingers over the lace before taking in your scent. He softly groaned before he dropped his pants, the thoughts of his face buried in your pussy making him harder by the second. He had them tightly clutched in his fist as he started to stroke himself with his free hand, small whimpers flying out of his mouth as he tried to imagine how soft your hand would feel wrapped around him. His bottom lip was in between his teeth once he started to get louder, the tip of his cock red as be brought himself closer to the edge. Just as he was about to cum, he deeply inhaled the scent of your panties one more time before he rubbed them against the tip of his cock, his thick, white ropes covering the lace.
You thought living with boys was going to be difficult, but your first month wasn’t bad. You were surprised at how clean they liked everything to be, and Ethan always put the toilet seat down. You started to get close to your dorky roommate, especially once you spent so much time studying together. You already thought he was cute, but once you actually got to know more about him, you realized that he was so sweet, so nice. He might’ve been a little shy, too, but he got to the point where he was doing cute little things to make you laugh.
One day, you went to do your laundry in the apartment. You walked over and were about to throw stuff in when you noticed clothes were already inside, and Ethan quickly rounded the corner with the rest of the stuff he needed to toss in.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” he said, “You want me to take my stuff out? I can wash it later.”
“No, it’s fine, I’ll wait,” you said with a smile, before you noticed something familiar in the washer. “Oh,” you said, your cheeks turning pink as you reached out and grabbed your panties out of the washer. “Must’ve dropped these in.”
Ethan’s eyes grew wide as he noticed them in your hand, the realization hitting you that they were sticky.
“Eww, what is all over these?” you said, a disgusted look on your face as you tried to figure it out. You looked over to Ethan, his face bright red and his eyes huge, when you pieced it together. “Ethan…”
He just stared at you, the silence deafening as he tried to think of something, anything to say to you. He’d gotten away with stealing your panties for a month, but it was a way for him to feel close to you, and satisfy some of the sexual frustration he had whenever he thought about you.
“What’s on my panties?” you questioned, as he tensed up. “Actually, I don’t think I want to know.”
You tossed them back in the washer and walked past him and headed straight to the bathroom to wash your hands. When you went to your room and shut the door, Ethan huffed and tossed in the rest of stuff that was in his hands before he started the washer.
As the day went by, you couldn’t stop thinking about Ethan, and how you’d noticed that pairs of your panties had been going missing ever since you moved in. But then you’d randomly see them again, in the top drawer of your dresser after a few days. You didn’t think Ethan was like that, and it made you feel a little uneasy to live with him.
Later that night, you had to say something to him. You walked out of your room and glanced around the apartment for him, before you walked to his closed door and started to knock. He eased it open after a few seconds, his eyes connecting with yours through the small crack.
“Can we talk?” you asked, as he took a deep breath and hesitantly opened the door for you.
You walked in and took a seat on the side of the bed, your gaze on his floor as you tried to think of the right way to talk to him.
“You want me to leave the door open,” he asked, barely above a whisper as you shook your head no.
“If Mindy or Chad come home, I don’t want them to hear the conversation.”
“Thanks,” he mumbled, before he took a seat beside you. “I’m sorry.”
“Why were you stealing my panties?” you asked, as he took a deep breath.
“I can’t explain it without sounding like the total creep you probably already think I am.”
“So…that was what I thought it was on them,” you said, as you turned to look at him. He nodded, looking away to not meet your gaze.
“Again, I am so sorry,” he said, “I know you probably hate me, and I understand if you don’t want to be around me. I’ll stay in my room so you don’t have to see me.”
“I’m just a little confused,” you said softly, as he finally let his eyes connect with yours. “What’s so exciting about my panties?”
At that moment, one thing you said to Ethan started to play in his head. ‘Sex is overrated.’ He was questioning how much experience you actually had.
“Do you really not know or are you fucking with me?” he questioned.
“Like, does it feel good? How does it even turn you on?” you asked, curiously staring at him.
“They uh…yeah, it feels good when I uh…rub them on myself. And they smell like you.”
“They smell like fabric softener and laundry detergent,” you said, a small laugh slipping out as he shook his head.
“I haven’t been stealing clean ones…they smell like you.”
“Oh,” you said, as you looked away from him. “That turns you on?”
“You have no idea,” he said, and even though the conversation was uncomfortable, he was getting hard.
“Why are guys so weird?” you thought out loud, laughing a little as you shook your head. “So does that mean that you like me? Or you’re like…sexually attracted to me? I still don’t fully get it.”
“Both,” he said, “I think you’re so beautiful, and I’ve had so much fun with you this last month…but I also think about you in a different way, too. Ya know?”
“I’ve thought about you that way, too,” you admitted, “It’d kind of hard not to. I hear you through the walls all the time.”
“You’ve heard me?” he asked, a blush spreading to his cheeks. “I’m sorry, I know you hated when you heard your old roommate.”
“I like it when I hear you,” you said so softly that he barely heard it.
“Do you touch yourself when you hear me?”
Your breathing got heavier at his question, and Ethan noticed. You were getting so flustered under his gaze.
“I…I’ve tried to,” you said, as you took in the curious look on his face.
“Tried to?” he asked, “What do you mean?”
“Like…I know what feels good, but I can never get myself…there, if you know what I mean.”
“You’ve never made yourself cum?” he questioned, admiring how cute you looked as you got embarrassed.
“No one has.”
“No one?” he asked, his throat dry at the thought. “Are you a virgin?”
“No…but I’ve never enjoyed sex. Like, it feels good, but I think it’s so disappointing when you hear how amazing orgasms are and then I just never get one.”
Ethan expected the conversation that was happening to go so differently. He thought you hated him, but there you were, telling him that you’d tried to get yourself off when you’d heard him. The thought of him being the first one to make you cum had him salivating, but he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable if he offered.
“Have you ever…given someone an orgasm?” you asked, as he nodded. “I’m jealous of whoever she is.”
“Don’t be,” he said, scooting a little closer to you. “Fuck, I’d make you cum all the time if I could.”
“Really?” you smiled, “If you ever want to, I’m right next door,” you joked, as he smiled and shook his head.
“Hey, don’t offer that or I’ll be in your room every day.”
You were starting to squirm against his bed, your thighs rubbing together so subtly that he could barely tell. The sexual tension was so thick, your breathing getting heavier as you thought about how good Ethan would make you feel.
“I think I need to go back to my room,” you said, as you started to stand up. That’s when you glanced at Ethan’s lap, noticing the tent in his sweatpants.
“Do you really want to?” he asked, “Because if you want me to take care of you right now, I will.”
“Seriously?” you questioned, as he smiled and nodded.
“Come here,” he said, reaching out to grab your hands, pulling you to him.
Once Ethan leaned in to kiss you, he was almost taken aback by how quickly your lips were moving against his. He was desperate for you, but you were just as desperate for him. He matched your pace before he pushed you back on the bed, his hand running from your hip, up your ribs, until it landed on your breast. You gasped into the kiss once he squeezed it.
You had massive butterflies in your stomach once you felt his cock pressing against your thigh through his sweatpants, your head was spinning, but you were loving every second of it.
“Hey, I have an idea,” he said, once he pulled away to catch his breath. “I think we should go to your room.”
“Why?” you asked because you didn’t want to stop. You needed his lips back on yours.
“Because you have that full length mirror leaning against your wall,” he said, chuckling once you noticed the confused look on your face. “I want you to see what I’m doing to make you cum…in case I’m never here to help you.”
“Okay,” you said, as he stood up and grabbed your hands.
Once he opened his bedroom door, he listened to make sure he didn’t hear anyone else in the apartment before he walked out and to your room next door. He shut and locked your bedroom door once he made it inside, before he pulled you into another kiss. His hands held onto your hips until they started to rub against the flesh under the hem of your shirt. He kept inching it further and further up, until he pulled away to pull it over your head. His lips went back to yours as he reached around to unhook your bra, his hands squeezing at your breasts once they were free.
His mouth moved to your neck as his hands explored your body, before they snaked under the waistband of your leggings. He moved them down over your hips as you shimmied out of them, leaving you in nothing but your panties. He recognized them as the first pair he ever stole, the black lacy ones.
“Fuck,” he mumbled, as his hand moved to rub you over your panties. The material was soaked as you moaned at the feeling. “That feel good?”
“Yes,” you said, quickly nodding your head just in case he needed the extra confirmation. “So good.”
“I hate that I have to take these off you,” he said, as he inched the fabric down your thighs, leaving you completely nude in front of him. “I’m going to sit on the floor in front of the mirror, and I want you to sit between my legs.”
“Okay,” you said, as he took a seat on the floor, his legs spreading for you to sit. You did as he said, looking at him in the mirror as he spread your legs, placing your feet on either side of his legs on the floor.
You watched him lick two of his fingers before he placed them against your clit, rubbing slow circles. Your eyes stayed on the reflection of his hand, your mouth parting as you started to breathe faster. He added a little more pressure as you fully relaxed back into his chest, the softest moans slipping out as he went a little faster.
“Ethaaan,” you whined out, the noise quickly becoming his new favorite sound.
“Shh, I don’t know if anyone else is here,” he said softly, “Just keep your legs spread for me, baby.”
He rubbed a few more circles on your clit before his fingers moved lower, one of them slipping inside you. He pumped it in and out for a minute before he added another, as you angled your neck to look up at him. He leaned down to kiss you as his fingers moved, before he started to mumble against your lips.
“If you ever finger yourself, this…” he said, as he curved them just right, a low moan flying out of your mouth, “Is the spot that needs attention. Okay baby?”
“Okay,” you whimpered, as he moved his fingers faster.
The sounds you were making just kept getting louder, and Ethan was just hoping and praying that no one else was home. One of your hands clung to his thigh as your other hand wrapped around his wrist, as you started to feel…different. It felt so good, and the last thing you wanted was for him to stop. Once he went even faster, the squelching sound of your wet pussy and your whimpers filling the room, your legs were trying so hard to close as your toes curled against the carpet on the floor.
“Oh my god,” you moaned, your fluttering eyes watching his hand in the mirror as your body started to tingle.
“Cum for me baby,” he encouraged, as you finally let that feeling wash over your body. You were jolting, your eyes screwed shut as his fingers started to slow, his free hand roaming your chest as you let out all your sounds.
Once you fully relaxed in his arms, he placed a kiss to the top of your head as your hazy eyes connected with his in the mirror.
“Now you can’t say no one’s ever made you cum,” he said with a smile, as he slid his fingers out of you. “Did it feel good?”
“That was better than I thought it was going to be,” you said, “Thanks, Ethan.”
“You’re welcome.”
You sat there in silence for a minute as you felt his cock pressing against you, and you wanted so badly to take care of him, until you heard commotion in the apartment.
“Hey, guysss,” Chad yelled, as he walked down the hall.
You tensed up as you glanced at your door, before Ethan whispered, “It’s okay, I locked it.”
You relaxed again before Chad started to yell again, “Tara’s here!”
You forgot about hanging out with Mindy and Tara for the night, and you didn’t want to pull away from Ethan, but you hesitantly did, your legs wobbling as you tried to stand. Ethan got up to help you, and once you got your bearings, he started to grab your clothes off the floor for you.
“Thanks,” you said, before you noticed him pick up your panties.
“No, thank you,” he joked, a smirk playing on his lips as he backed towards your door. “I’ll see you when you get back in the morning.”
“I better still have panties in that top drawer when I get back.”
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GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ ONE MORE CHANCE? (IT WON'T BE THE LAST) ❜❜
.ೃ࿐ you hate your ex, but nobody else can fuck you half as well — so maybe you'll give him one more chance.
contents: fem!reader. implied unprotected sex, dirty talk (?), lil' bit of praise, lil' bit of degradation, oral (fem. receiving), couch sex, gojo covers your mouth at one point, cursing, lil' bit of teasing/mocking (?). sorta toxic but whatevs we love a toxic king! 2000+ words.
author's note: got lazy in the middle of writing this loll
"he's just so fucking annoying," you groan, swirling the drink in your hand. the ice clinks against the side of the glass as you lift the cup to your lips, sipping the whiskey and wincing at the way it burns the back of your throat. you lean back in the plush couch in your friend's living room and sigh. "i don't know why i ever dated him."
your friend nods in agreement, eyes fixed on her phone for another second before she turns it towards you. "look what he posted on his instagram."
on your friend's screen is an instagram story, and the tag shows that it's from your ex-boyfriend — satoru gojo. tired of his insensitivity and annoying nature, you had dumped him two weeks ago, and god, you'd never had such a petty ex in your life.
after you broke up with him, he blocked you from all his socials and got all his friends to do the same. so, since he practically knew everyone, you lost a hundred followers.
and apparently, he's out fucking some other girl right now.
the story on your friend's phone is a picture of a smirking satoru with his arm wrapped around some girl with a red plastic cup in her hand. they're bathed in overhead red lights, and you can barely make out a familiar dark-haired boy in the back — another one of satoru's fuckboy friends.
"he's such a manwhore," your friend says with an eyeroll. "d'you want to stay the night?"
you shake your head, setting down the now-empty glass on a coaster. "it's alright, i wouldn't want to intrude," you say with a rueful smile.
your friend eyes you suspiciously for another second before leaning back in her own seat and closing her eyes. "stay safe, it's pretty late."
you nod and toss your things into your bag before stepping out the door, closing it gently behind you. as you get in your car and drive back to your house, thoughts of satoru fill your head.
you don't recognize the girl under satoru's arm, but she's pretty — too pretty for him. sure, satoru was conventionally attractive, with his ocean-blue eyes and flawless physique, but still.
satoru was a shitty boyfriend, and now he's an even shittier ex. when you two dated, his spoiled brattiness and constant sorry, i forgot's drove you insane. he couldn't even remember your birthday. it was a miracle that you tolerated him for that long — until your one-year anniversary, which obviously slipped his mind.
"you're so insensitive," you groan, dragging a hand down your face. satoru suppresses a sigh, blue eyes looking everywhere but at you. "and— satoru, are you even listening to me?"
you're quiet for three seconds before he responds, and naturally, it was with a "huh? yeah, what is it?"
every time. every single time.
"it's over," you mutter, shaking your head frustratedly. "we're over, satoru."
"fine," he responds after a moment. "i never really liked you anyways."
"fuck you."
if you didn't give a fuck about that white-haired bastard anymore, why did the memory of your breakup still sting?
you try to tell yourself that it doesn't matter. maybe it was for the best — he was out with some pretty girl, so why couldn't you go out and sleep with some hot guy?
you make up your mind right as you step into your house, and thirty minutes later, you're in a tight dress and four-inch heels. and it's almost funny how easy it is to doll up when you don't have a horny boyfriend trying to fuck you every two seconds.
right before you step out the door, you eye yourself in the mirror and can't help but admire the way your dress hugs your waist, accentuating your curves. that smug manwhore didn't know what he was missing out on — so why not show him?
you pull out your phone and take a picture of yourself, snapping a couple before deciding on one and posting it on your story. you knew he'd see it — you intentionally let his burner stay unblocked, and coincidentally, he didn't block you either.
just as you push open your door, you realize that your phone's on death's door — just over five percent remaining. so you plug it into your charger, kicking your feet impatiently as you wait for it to charge to a reasonable amount.
some part of you wants to chicken out, to stay home and spend the night watching a classic romcom. but the other part of you, the part that can't ignore the fact that you haven't had sex in two weeks, urges you to go out and get laid.
so twenty minutes later, when your phone finally hits forty percent, you practically throw open the door and rush out and find yourself face-to-face with the guy who's somewhere between belly conklin and andy bernard on your most-disliked list. satoru gojo.
"what the fuck are you doing here?" you snap, wrapping your arms around yourself as the cold night air touches your bare skin. satoru eyes you up and down, and suddenly, you're very aware of just how exposed you are. "satoru, answer the damn question."
"where are you going?" he asks, eyes narrowing when they settle on your dress's deep neckline.
"none of your business," you reply shortly, biting the inside of your cheek. unfortunately, satoru looks good. just like in his instagram story, he has one button undone in his collar, and his hair is rumpled and perfect all at the same time. "answer the fuckin' question."
"saw your story," satoru replies, slipping his hands into his pocket. "you going out on a date or something?"
the question catches you off guard, and your irritated expression drops for a moment. strangely enough, satoru doesn't have his usual smug expression on his face — he looks conflicted. he never looks conflicted.
"doesn't matter," you respond, walking around him and relishing the way your heels clack on the concrete ground. without turning around, you ask, "so, what about my story made you come over?"
you're not sure why you're baiting him. maybe it's the slight chance that he would beg to get you back, maybe it's the tightness in your chest and pussy, or maybe you just want the satisfaction of seeing satoru squirm.
whatever it is, it lets satoru take you by the wrist and drag you back inside. you suppose that if you can get dick at home, then there's no point in going all the way to the club. and it's not like you're gonna get back together over one night — this would be purely physical. he wanted you, and you wouldn't mind him.
"fuck, right there, sweetheart," satoru groans, pushing your legs impossibly farther apart as his tongue laps at your pussy. the two of you barely made it to the couch in your living room before satoru pushed you down, a mischievous smile on his lips. one thing turned to another, and soon enough he was on his knees in front of you and eatung you out like a starving man.
"you're such a loser," you mutter, threading your fingers through his hair as his tongue makes you see stars. he really was — who shows up to their ex's place after getting dumped? a laugh bubbles out of satoru's lips while his mouth is still on your pussy and it makes you shiver. satoru looks up at you, an amused gleam in his eyes.
"s' that so?" satoru mumbles, pressing his lips to your inner thigh with a smirk. "then why'd you let me in, huh?"
"why would i go out when i can just get fucked at home?" you say dryly, a smile growing on your lips. "since you made the effort of coming all the way here."
"my pleasure," satoru scoffs sarcastically, getting up and joining you on the couch as he tugs you into his lap. "so i'm the pathetic loser here, yeah?"
you nod, letting satoru unzip the back of your dress with one hand. he laughs and shakes his head. "you're the one who let me in, baby."
"yeah, well, you showed up."
"you coulda slammed the door in my face."
"maybe i should've," you mutter, not liking the way he's grinning at you. "you gonna fuck me or what?"
"aw, you're desperate. how cute," he replies without missing a beat. it's been a while since you got to banter with satoru like this, and some part of you misses it. sure, he's disgustingly cocky, but at least he has the dick to back it up. and it's fun, too — you like the chase, and clearly, he does too.
"not really," you say with a shrug. that's a lie — the only reason you let him in was to get fucked, and contrary to the excuses falling from your mouth, you were getting impatient. not that he needed to know that.
"fine. have it your way, brat." satoru smiles cheekily and bounces his leg up and down, making you grit your teeth as you struggle to focus.
you make a face at satoru, crossing your arms. "what are you—"
"waiting."
"for what?"
"for you to beg."
your mouth falls open, and you glare at satoru, hating the way he's smugly grinning at you. this isn't the first time he's asked you to beg for him to fuck you — back when the two of you were dating, he had no problem edging you the whole night and practically making you cry for him.
"not this again," you groan, letting out a drawn-out sigh. "just fuck me already, satoru. or i'll go get someone else to."
satoru clicks his tongue, smiling lazily. "we both know you won't do that."
again, he's right, and god, you hate him for it. "just shut up and fuck me."
"alright, since you asked so nicely," satoru drawls, running his tongue over his teeth. he studies you intently, white hair falling into his eyes. before you can ask what he's looking at, he has you pinned against the couch cushions, face down and ass up.
"good girl, stayin' nice and quiet for me," satoru groans, hand clasped over your mouth as he pounds into you from behind. "you always talked too much. never knew when to shut that damn mouth."
you moan against his hand, unable to think about anything else but satoru and his dick. that's the only reason the two of you stayed together for as long as you did — because the sex was irreplaceable. and after two weeks without getting fucked, you seriously consider throwing all pride out the window and begging for him back.
"shit, you're so fuckin' tight," satoru says with a rough laugh. "have you really not fucked with anyone else since you dumped me?"
you shake your head, eyes pressed shut as satoru continues sloppily thrusting into you. there's a coil in your chest that's threatening to burst, and the whines slipping out of your lips increase in both pitch and volume.
at this point, you can hardly remember why you broke up with satoru — or maybe, he's just not giving you a chance to remember. his pace is relentless and mind-numbing, and shit, maybe it's for the best.
when he finally lets you cum, it's the best feeling you've had in what feels like forever. the edges of your vision go white, and satoru removes his hand from your mouth, letting out the lewd, muffled sounds that you've been suppressing all this time. not long after, satoru cums too, and it's sloppy, messy, and all over you.
satoru collapses on top of your back, hot breaths slipping out of his mouth and brushing against your cheek. "took me so good, baby," he groans, pressing his lips to your neck and laughing breathily. "we should do this again sometime."
you shouldn't like this. you should be shoving him out your door, but his mischievous smile is irresistible. and even though you know this time probably won't end any different than the rest, you decide to give satoru one more chance.
"yeah, same time tomorrow?"
"anythin' for you."
#osaemu#gojo smut#jjk smut#satoru gojo smut#gojo satoru smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#gojo x reader#jjk x reader#satoru gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x you#jjk x you#satoru gojo x you#gojo satoru x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#gojo x y/n#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x y/n#satoru gojo x y/n#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo drabbles#jjk drabbles
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GREEDY ; SV5
sebastian vettel x interviewer!reader
. . . at the height of his career all vettel wants is to win. with four world championships on his back, his ego- out of the world, surely that's enough for a room in your life.
amgf i forgot to add this but!!! implied smut but no actual scene, yay! the first post in the main is greedy 😤✊ i love how this turned out, wrote it in one sitting too hahahaha i'm enjoying myself way too much, i hope you do to <3
death of a bachelor ; masterlist
“Nervous?”
You walk out from the ensuite bathroom, finding the blonde German tangled up in the sheets, in that post-sex afterglow, hair- a sweaty mess, breaths labored, and eyes closed in blissed. It was indeed a sight to see, you’re proud, what can you say?
“Why would I be nervous?” Sebastian raises his eyebrows as you move closer to him, kissing his head before scooting in between the sheets.
“Your retirement? The media? My upcoming questions for the tribute?”
Seb’s laughter filled the hotel room, wrapping his arms around yours, “Can’t let me catch a break can you?” he whispers in your ears, hands lingering lower your stomach.
You shake your head, fighting the smile growing on your face, “Need to keep you on your toes. Whatever will happen to that ego of yours if I praise you easily.”
Seb shrugs, “Understandable, I mean you praise me enough in bed, I think I will bust a nut if you praise me there and then in press interviews.”
Scoffing, you stand up, slapping his arms playfully- “You need to control that mouth of yours, it’s funny how you haven’t slipped up yet. About this, y’know.”
Grabbing your cheeks, Sebastian pulls you in for a kiss, “Can’t. Wouldn’t dare even. What’s mine is mine, and you are mine. There’s no way I’m telling.”
Lifting yourself, you straddle on his thighs, “You’re not that good at hiding either, other drivers are asking.”
Peppering kisses on your neck, Sebastian groaned at the thought of the other drivers going to interviews with you. “Don’t remind me. I saw your interview with Lewis, and people are liking it way too much. Now I need to think of some snarky comment to turn all the attention back to you and me.”
A moan escapes your lips, laughter filled in between as you throw your head, back arching closer to Seb’s. “You’re insufferable.”
“I’m greedy. And I’m yours.”
You hum, letting Seb play with your thighs, “Is that why you brought me with you to Silverstone?”
“There’s nothing wrong with an early celebration right?”
You laugh, “Is that what we’re doing? Celebrating?”
Sebastian stops, pushing you back to the bed. Staring at his eyes, you see the hunger and determination inside them.
“Celebrating for the rest of our lives. Fuck, you’re driving me crazy liebe.”
sebastianvettel5
liked by interviewyln, lewishamilton, and 2,483,632 others
sebastianvettel5 how it started ten years ago and how it's going. retirement has never been better, all the things i want i have, and of course with you interviewyln
it took me a long time to even comprehend that i ended up with you. i was jealous, childish, and greedy. thank heavens that you gave me a chance, and here i am ten years later.
after my first interview with you, i knew i had to make the best first impression. who would've thought banter and snarky comments would lead us together.
and now, i wouldn't have it any other way with you and now with our daughter. i love you so much, thank you for being with me at my worst, and in the best times.
liebe, you'll always be in my heart.
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intervieweryln honey, thank you so much. i wouldn't have it any other way. through the thick and thin, we'll be together. i love you so much seb.
#f1 smau#f1 x reader#f1 fluff#sebastian vettel smau#sebastian vettel x reader#sebastian vettel fluff
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Heyyy saw ur request were open what about dark!rafe catches you talking shit about him to your friends over text???
How a Girlfriend is Supposed to Act
Warnings: noncon, forced sex, domestic violence, choking, slapping, oral (m!recieving), toxic relationship, gaslighting
Despite being with Rafe for almost a year, you had learned all of the quirks that he had when it came to his possessiveness very early on.
The first time you caught him reading your texts, you were surprised by just how nonchalant he was about the entire situation.
He was sitting on your bed after you returned from grabbing the two of you a snack, scrolling through your phone, not even bothering to look up at you until you asked him what he was doing.
“You’re my girlfriend, Y/N.” He said it slowly, like he was reminding you of something you yourself couldn’t possibly forgot. The accusing fire in his gaze made you squirm. “Of course I have the right to look through your phone.”
At first you were too surprised to react. You had never really had a reason to look through Rafe’s phone, but you imagined he wouldn’t be too happy if you did.
“Why the fuck do you look so nervous, huh?” He was starting to sound annoyed, and his eyes were flicking between meeting yours and scanning your phone. “Got something you’re trying to hide from me?”
“What? No, Rafe! I just didn’t expect to find you going through my phone, that’s all.” You explained breathlessly. You didn’t know why he was accusing you of trying to keep secrets from him.
Unfortunately, the last thing that you should have done in that moment was try to snatch your phone away from Rafe.
His hand shot out, tightly gripping your wrist as he dug his fingers into the bone beneath your skin. You cried out in pain and watched as your phone fell onto the bed, before bouncing to the floor.
Your boyfriend was furious now, easily pulling you onto the bed by your wrist and onto your back at a painful angle before straddling you. You struggled beneath him, trying hopelessly to stop him from putting his hands on you
When Rafe slapped you across the face the first time, your ears rang and you swore that your vision went white for a moment.
Every sound became muffled but you could hear Rafe angrily chastising you from above, “dumb bitch. I mean, I pay for your fucking phone, so yeah, you’re not gonna talk back to me when I go through it.”
That was months ago, and you later learned that that wasn’t even the first time that Rafe had gone through your phone.
You weren’t cheating on Rafe, that much was 100% true. The problem was that Rafe’s definition of cheating included behaviors that you knew were not cheating.
Texting your classmate a question about homework turned into a two hour long fight that culminated in Rafe giving you a black eye.
After Rafe saw you had and Topper had sent each other a couple funny posts in instagram dm’s, he choked you so hard you passed out, leaving you to cover up the extensive bruising on your neck around your friends and family to avoid explaining what had happened.
Ever since then you had learned to be careful about who you texted, and if you ever texted anyone Rafe wouldn’t approve or said something that he wouldn’t like, you made sure to delete the conversations.
You were always so diligent in covering your tracks.
Except for the one time you really needed to.
After another argument with Rafe had become physical, once you finally got some space away from him you had texted a friend, vaguely venting your frustrations with him, without revealing too many details to make her suspicious that Rafe was hurting you.
As you shakily typed out the texts you couldn’t help but think back on the fight you had had. After catching a guy staring at you in the club, the moment you returned home, Rafe had been quick to grab you by the throat, pushing you up against the wall before hurling insults at you.
“I mean you dress like such a fucking slut, no wonder I have to chase these guys off. I bet you wanted his attention, didn’t you?” His eyes narrowed as he looked down at you with disgust.
You were so shocked by his outburst you had barely registered the fingers crushed your throat, and you finally gasped for air against his strong hand. “N-no, Rafe!”
His grip tightened as he regarded your fearful eyes, “nah, you always think you can fool me sweetheart but you never can.” His chuckled, but there was no hint of humor in his eyes, “I saw you looking at him when we first walked in.”
You shook your head against him, tears gathering in your eyes as you begged with him, “I wasn’t baby-”
“Shut the fuck up, Y/N.” He spat at you, squeezing so hard you were sure you would have deep purple bruises on your neck tomorrow.
“I never should have let you outta the house wearing that dress. You were looking for trouble walking around like that.” Rafe growled, his eyes were ice cold. You knew that he was itching for a fight, and you didn’t want to give him what he wanted.
“I’m sorry,” you struggled to force the words out with such little breath and Rafe finally gave you a respite when he loosened his grip on your throat. “You okayed it before we went out, I thought it wouldn’t be a problem.”
“I knew every guy at that bar would be trying to fuck you with their eyes, but I didn’t think you’d be doing the same to them!” The more he spoke, the more pissed off he seemed to be making himself. You knew that he was just convincing himself that his actions were justified.
When he tossed you to the floor, you yelped in pain when your shoulder hit the hard wood. You barely had time to reach for your tender neck before Rafe grabbed a fistful of your hair and forced you to look up at him.
“I mean, do you even love me anymore, Y/N?” His voice sounded hurt, and even though this wasn’t the first time he had used this card on you in the middle of putting his hands on you, you couldn’t deny the tug on your heartstrings you had when you looked into your boyfriend’s eyes.
“Of course I do, Rafe!” You insisted, knowing that your enthusiasm was expected and there would be consequences if you didn’t play along.
You were terrified of your boyfriend, and after being with him for so long, you were aware of the ways to deescalate a tense situation. In moments like these you would have said anything to protect yourself.
“Nah, you don’t mean that. You haven’t been yourself lately baby. Always too busy with work to spend time with me and now you’re talking back to me?” He shook his head, tsk-ing as he glared at you disgustedly. “Not to mention, you haven’t been fulfilling all of your duties as my girlfriend.”
You stared at him, puzzled and not understanding his meaning, “what are you talking about?”
“What are you talking about?” He repeated back to you in a mocking tone, like he couldn’t believe how dumb you were to not get it. “I mean, it’s been, what, five days since you last let me have sex with you? I have needs, Y/N. And when you can’t just lay on your back and spread your legs for me, you’re being a bad girlfriend.”
His words stung, and you couldn’t tell if the tears in your eyes were because of the large hand tangled into your hair, or because your boyfriend was acting like you owed him sex, like you were in the wrong right now.
“Now you’re gonna make it up to me, because you are really pissing me off right now, and I don’t want to hear any fucking complaints, do you understand?”
Your body was screaming in resistance, but you numbly realized that you were nodding your head. Rafe’s hand left your hair, finding your chin and gripping your jaw hard.
“Use your words, sweetheart,” the sick grin that was spread across his lips told you exactly how much Rafe was getting off on your humiliation right now and you wanted to be sick.
“I understand.” You forced the words past your gritted teeth, swallowing down the bile that threatened to come up.
Rafe unbuttoned his pants before sliding the zipper down and pushing them down his legs before pulling off his boxers as well.
His dick was hard, a bead of precum already pearled at the tip of his intimidating length.
You swallowed nervously, already afraid of how rough your boyfriend was going to be. You felt like you weren’t ready at all, but the sharp pain the bloomed on your cheek after Rafe slapped you told you that you must have hesitated for too long.
“Quit your damn procrastinating, Y/N,” he hissed, tangling his fingers into your hair again and pulling you to his dick, forcing the tip past your plump lips.
You didn’t have any time to be surprised, gagging and choking on him as he pushed himself deeper towards your throat. He groaned at the feeling of your throat squeezing his cock, urging himself further into the back of your mouth.
Rafe was in heaven, basking in the sight of your teary eyes and the ruined mascara that now trailed down your cheeks. You had looked so pretty at the club tonight, but now you were a crying mess. The noises of your gagging and the steady sound of Rafe’s cock hitting the back of your throat filled the space. Nothing had ever made Rafe hornier than seeing your beautiful, tear filled eyes begging and pleading with his.
He reached out to your cheek, wiping up a bit of saliva that had been forced past your lips. Your glassy eyes were unfocused now that you had given up any thoughts of resistance, too cock drunk to try protesting against the stronger man.
You were doing all you could not to gag on him and choke, knowing full well that that would only spur him on. Every time you pushed at his thigh to get him to ease up, he would slap your hand away with an annoyed grunt.
His pace was relentless now, one hand was gripping your hair and the other was at your throat, holding you still so he could push himself deeper.
“That’s right baby, fuck,” he bit back his groans, ignoring your gagging and desperate eyes when he forced himself too far down your throat, literally choking you with his cock. “Oh fuck- god Y/N, you’re better than any sex doll, you know why?”
He knew you couldn’t answer him, especially since he had started thrusting faster past your messy lips, but he still paused to drink in the sight before him.
“Because they can’t fight back,” Rafe sneered, picking up his pace again, reaching a punishing fervor.
The blond’s dick was slamming into the back of your throat while the large hand at your throat squeezed in warning anytime you so much tried to pull back.
He sped up on final time, chasing his high by forcing you to take all of his cock. Rafe held you in place and watched you choke on him for a couple seconds before letting out a low groan and spilling his salty seed down your throat, giving you no choice but to swallow every drop of it.
When he pulled his dick out of your mouth, you took a gasping breath, but weren’t allowed much air before Rafe slapped you across the face hard.
“From now on, I expect this and more from you every night we’re together. Because that’s how my girlfriend is supposed to act. And if you think about giving me any lip about that, then I’m gonna make you wish you had just kept your pretty mouth shut, got it?”
That rest of the night was no better than the beginning, after Rafe had helped you clean up, he basically immediately led you to your bed.
He chuckled in satisfaction when you didn’t fight back against his wandering hands, and as held tight to your wrists, plunging his cock into your slick cunt, he didn’t say anything about the tears rolling down your cheeks.
The next morning you had woken up sore, your entire body ached, and you weren’t surprised when you looked in the mirror and saw the red and purple blooming around your throat.
Rafe was still asleep, his deep snores letting you know that he wouldn’t be waking up soon.
You quietly snuck into the bathroom, grabbing your phone off of the bedside table on the way. Once you had shut and locked the door behind you, you exhaled deeply, unlocking your phone to check for messages.
Your friend had texted you asking how your night had gone, and feeling perhaps a little too honest, you told her that the two of you had had an “argument.”
‘he thought i was checking out a guy at the bar and said some really rude things to me last night.’ You laughed to yourself as you stared at your own words through blurry eyes. It was both funny and sad to you how used to covering for Rafe you now were.
The bathroom felt more cramped when you remembered that Rafe was just on the other side of the door, despite being asleep.
A new notification popped up soundlessly and you read your friend’s text. She was joking about gathering all of your mutual friends to gang up on Rafe.
If only she knew the extent of what Rafe had done to you. You were sure she wouldn’t be joking then. In spite of that, you were angry with Rafe and wanted to blow off a little steam with your friend.
Which is why you felt emboldened to continue texting her.
‘he’s such an asshole sometimes. i’ve been thinking about breaking it off with him soon.’
You huffed, putting your phone down before finishing up in the bathroom and opening the door.
To your surprise, Rafe was standing on the other side, waiting for you to get out before he brushed past you without a word.
You noticed he was taking longer than he usually did to just pee, and when he finally stepped out of the bathroom, you realized with a horrible chill why he had been in there for so long.
Clutched in his hand was your cellphone, and you could see that it was open to the messages you had just sent.
“‘He’s such an asshole, I’ve been thinking about breaking it off??’” His voice was cold and you cringed hearing him speak your words. There was no denying he had read your texts.
You shivered, frozen in place as he stared you down, his blue eyes boring so deep into you that you swore you could feel them burning straight through you.
Your mouth was so dry, you had never felt so afraid of your boyfriend before. Even after everything he had put you through, you had never said anything about breaking up with him to his face. “Rafe, I-”
If your instincts hadn’t kicked in, you would have taken the blow right to your nose, however you had been lucky enough to dodge the phone fast enough that it only nicked your forehead before smashing into pieces against the wall behind you.
Unfortunately, while you had been focused on dodging your phone, the taller man had closed the gap between you, easily pushing you up against the wall by your throat and choking you with both hands. Rafe’s fingers pressed down against the bruises that they had left there the previous night.
You wanted to scream, but Rafe had knocked the wind out of you and no matter how hard you shoved him, he wasn’t giving up.
“You’re mine,” he hissed as you struggled against him. “Maybe I’ve been hitting you too much recently, because I don’t remember you being this stupid when we first started dating.”
Before you could comprehend what was happening, Rafe had spun you around and pushed you face first into the bed. One of his hands was forcing your head against the mattress, while the other pawed at your silk pajama shorts, opting to rip away the fabric covering you before freeing his hard cock from his boxers.
“You think I’m an asshole?” He growled, the tip of his cock brushed against your slick cunt and you shuddered at the feel of him beginning to force himself inside of you.
“I’ll show you how much of an asshole I can be.”
#rafe cameron#dark!rafe cameron#outer banks#obx#rafe cameron noncon#dark rafe cameron#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron fanfic#how a girlfriend is supposed to act#rafe cameron x reader
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˚₊‧ 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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i cared
MDNI
simon "ghost" riley x f!reader
summary: three and a half years ago and an ocean away, he tore you apart. now he's turned up at your door.
wordcount: 4.1k
warnings: smut (fingering), drinking, AFAB reader, possible past dub-con (reader was in a bad mental state and simon knew), simon is a shitty guy in this, talk of hypothetical suicide, talk of past bad mental state (depression), mentioned PTSD, heartbreak on both sides, death mention (MW:III canon)
a/n: hey remember when i said that my next fic would be joel and i posted a little insert. that was a lie! instead of working on that (12k word, currently) monster, i wrote something else. if you couldn't tell, i started this before the holidays and then forgot about it.
ao3
The house is much nicer than Simon anticipated. When he saw the New York City address, he had expected you to be crammed into a shitty 6th-floor walk-up. But no, not you. Instead, you have an honest-to-God three-story home with red brick delicately dusted with snow. You certainly couldn’t afford it on the 141 salary. He always suspected you came from means. This just confirms it. It just makes him wonder why the hell you decided to slum it in the services for so long.
It reminds Simon that he shouldn’t be there. You weren't made for that life and left for a reason. Who is he to ruin your peace?
He’s not alone on the street. Well-to-do families of strangers pass by, all watching the masked man observe their neighbor’s home. He can still turn around and leave you to the life you so clearly want.
Something shifts in one of the windows, the curtain being tousled by something. A dog. You got a dog– a golden retriever with sharp eyes and, evidently, an even sharper bark. The canine goes berserk, barking and howling and growling at Simon through the window. It’s Simon’s cue to leave, to leave you be with your semi-rabid, semi-domestic canine.
But before he can move, the curtain shifts again– pulled this time –and you’re there. You squint for a moment, surely wondering what masked freak is standing in your walkway like he owns the damn place. He lets you scrutinize him. It’s now or never. Either you’ll tell him to fuck off once you realize who he is or you’ll call the police on him, though it’s not like they would do anything after he calls Kate.
Instead, you disappear behind the curtain, your loyal steed of a dog following hot on your heels. In a moment’s notice, the large front door, with a gilded knocker and door knob open. You beckon him in. He follows, eyes trailing up and down your body once you’re facing away from him. You’re dressed casually but smartly in a short denim skirt and cashmere sweater. Simon’s never seen you in that getup before, even when going out to the pub.
“Shoes off,” you order, motioning towards the neat shoe rack next to the door. They’re all women's shoes of the same size. Simon’s shoulders relax, and he slips off his boots. It was for the best, he figures. His old boots would have just dragged dirt into your space. He takes off his mask too, hanging it up with his jacket. It’s nothing you haven't seen before.
Simon follows you into the sitting room– at least, that’s what Simon guesses the room is. It’s too neat for your taste, or his memory of what your taste is exactly. The couch and single chair seem untouched, the air still, like Simon’s presence is cutting through some sacred stillness.
You point to a couch and Simon obeys, sitting with his hands on his knees. Your eyes lock with his without granting him any semblance of your thoughts. Simon keeps his gaze soft, neutral. You can scrutinize him all you need.
You sigh, straightening your posture. A smile pulls at your lips. Your smile lines crease deeper than he remembered. Or maybe they always creased that deep.
“Tea?”
***
“He’s quite protective,” you drop two sugar cubes into a cup of tea. The spoon in your hand lets out a delicate tink as it hits the porcelain cup. You hand Simon the teacup, it’s just how he likes it. “Always has his haunches raised, even when he’s not working.”
Ah. A service animal. He’s surprised to not have put that together sooner. Always loyal, the pooch plants himself at your feet, gaze burning into Simon. If looks could kill…
“Your home?” Simon asks. He lifts the teacup to his lips and sips. Simon places the teacup on its saucer impossibly slowly. Simon can’t believe you’d trust him with something so delicate.
“I inherited it.”
A smile creeps on Simon’s face. Teacups and generational wealth. He always knew you were posh. Or whatever Americans call posh.
“You’re on holiday?” You ask.
“‘Tis the season.”
You hum. Your house is the only one on the block without some sort of holiday decor. Simon wonders if it was a pointed decision.
“And you came here.” Why?
He can’t tell you the truth. The fact is that every day since you left– all one thousand two hundred ninety-eight of them since John uttered to his fuming lieutenant that you just weren’t fit to serve any more –he’s ached. One thousand two hundred ninety-eight days of no contact. Of his only proof that you ever existed being a photo and a tear-stained note with one sentence scribbled in ink: John has contact info– emergencies only.
“I wanted to wish you a happy holidays.”
You laugh dryly, though it sends a pang of pain through Simon. He hadn’t realized how much he missed that sound. “Usually people send a card for that.”
You observe Simon with precision, like you never left the force, though the way you scratch Yogi’s belly unconsciously betrays the hardened exterior. It’s a glimpse into the last three and a half years. Of the woman you’ve become– so foreign to Simon. Foreign to your past self. Or not. Maybe this is who you’ve been all along, just hidden behind fatigues. Maybe the woman Simon thought he knew was just a farce. Rich girl playing army for a few years.
Maybe you joined the force just to fuck around for a bit. After a few years, you’d have stories to tell your socialite friends back home. Except, you didn’t get what you wanted, didn’t you? Simon knows well and good that serving, the 141, and him, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, destroyed something in you.
You tap the porcelain of your teacup. It makes a pleasant ding. “Did John tell you where to find me?”
“No. Well–” Simon tries to tell you the truth without throwing his comrade under the bus. The truth was, John had indulged in one too many drinks at the pub one night and hadn’t locked his quarters. An envelope addressed to you sat front in center on his desk. “Not intentionally.”
It’s a satisfying enough answer. Only a small twinge of annoyance crosses your face before you hum. “This isn’t a guilt thing, right Simon?” You ask, “I didn’t do what I did because of what happened.”
“What we did back then, on the field,” Simon traps you under his gaze. His stare is aggressive, but he hopes it conveys the intense feelings he’s struggling with. “I can’t just leave it. That’s why I came.”
Simon doesn’t dare speak. He doesn’t dare breathe while he watches you process his words. It’s a load of crap, he knows it, and he knows you know it. It’s just a matter of whether or not you want to kick him out.
You smize, teeth coming out to tug at your bottom lip. “Have you ever had New York pizza?”
***
You order two pies, hushing Simon when he insists it’s too much. You were right. Two isn’t enough. Simon scarfs down one pie without coming up for air. It’s delicious. It isn’t until he’s four slices deep that he realizes that you, smiling widely at him, haven’t yet picked up your first.
You’re a gracious host– a natural, really. You perch yourself on the kitchen island, legs crossed in a way that makes your skirt ride so sinfully up your thighs. Simon doesn’t look of course, he’s a gentleman. At least, he is for the first bottle of the ungodly expensive red wine you procure. It’s then that you perch your leg on the counter opposite your spot on the island, right next to Simon. Old habits die hard– especially when inebriated –and Simon places a hand on your leg, massaging the skin of your ankle.
You pay no mind to Simon’s ministrations, though, lost in the domestic bliss and mindless conversations you’ve probably been drowning yourself in for the last few years. You wave the glass of wine wildly about, like you wouldn’t give a damn if it spilled all over your expensive clothes. It seems so natural for you. Simon wonders what you were ever doing with the 141 when posh city living fits you like a second skin.
Simon inches his hand higher up your leg as you speak. He doesn’t get very far, but it’s enough so that he can trace patterns into the soft skin of your thigh. It’s too much, though, because your eyes lock onto his. But you’re not mad. You don’t tell him to stop. Rather, you examine him, and in your eyes Simon sees what looks like mirth.
“I missed this,” Simon says. He cringes at the words leaving his mouth. He’s succumbing to the domestic bliss you’ve created, looking at the past through rose-tinted glasses.
You reach for a third bottle of wine and a corkscrew, furrowing your brow in thought while twisting the screw. “I didn't want to abandon you,” you say. Simon, watching you pop the cork off with ease, almost forgets that you’re talking to him until you lock eyes. He watches you sniff the cork, pause, then sniff it again before topping off your glass. You take a heaping swig, like that Pinot Noir worth more than Simon’s monthly pay is unremarkable. “I left for a reason, you know.”
Oh, Simon certainly knows. The rumors had been inescapable in the first weeks of your absence. All around base every soldier had entertained the question of what happened to the American chick in the 141. Simon had only so many threatening looks to give privates before curiosity got the better of him. He abated the desire to ask John for so long, but there was only so much longing he could handle coupled with the cacophony of voices asking the same thing he desperately wanted to know.
John didn’t flounder when Simon finally came to him, demanding to know why you left.
She was discharged.
Why?
For… mental reasons.
Simon lost his shit in Price’s office that morning. He collapsed onto the couch with a gasp, a hand grasping and squeezing his heart. His breath left him, but Simon was too bloody stupid to understand what the hell was going on until Price was handing him a brown paper bag.
Breathe, son.
“Simon,” you breathe, your saccharine voice the most tantalizing sound Simon has ever heard. You lean forward, your finger tracing the scar parallel to the cut of his jaw. You were there for it, saw the knife slice through his mask and the skin underneath. You bandaged it in the helicopter after, making Simon promise to go to medical afterwards. He promised he would. That night he closed the wound with superglue. “Why did you really come?”
Because you disappeared. Because Price said you were on the brink of becoming a statistic. Because I fucked up. Because I said things I didn’t mean and I thought that it killed you.
“Johnny’s dead,” he lies. But it isn’t a lie. It’s true, sure, Johnny’s been reduced to ashes and scattered in the Scottish highlands. But that isn't why he came.
“I know.” You sniffle. Christ, Simon’s made you cry. Nausea washes over him. A voice in his head screams, fix it, idiot! But emotions were never Simon’s strong suit. Instead, Simon reaches for the bottle and tops off your glass of wine, probably a bit more than he should have, but it seems like you need it.
You mutter a thank you and down a bit more than half of the glass. You come up for air and hiccup. “John told me.”
“Price?” He asks, as though there was any other John. Anything to get you talking rather than crying.
You nod. “He dropped by around Thanksgiving. Asked if I wanted to be there when you all…” You wave your hand in the air, “You know.”
Something ugly festers in his chest. Maybe if he actually went to a therapist, Simon could recognize what it is.
“You said no?” He asks.
“I didn’t think I could.”
Simon nods, holding your gaze in a way that he hopes conveys his sense of understanding.
“How’d it happen?” You croak. Your eyes are glassy, a reminder of the ever-looming threat that you could fall apart again. Simon reminds himself that you wouldn’t be crying if he had just kept his distance.
“Bullet in the head.”
You tense, your head flying to Simon. Your eyes are frantic, searching for something in his face. “He…he…?”
Christ.
“No, no,” Simon scrambles to get his next words out, “Makarov. It was-” His voice cracks. Unusual. “-was too fast to stop it. To save himself.”
You hum, slumping down like it’s comforting to you that Johnny had his life torn from his arms. Like it’s comforting that Johnny couldn’t go on his own terms, but on the terms of a Russian terrorist.
“You know,” you say like you know he knows, “Johnny’s the reason I got out.”
Simon shifts. Johnny never talked about your discharge, always responding to speculation like he was none the wiser. “He is?”
“Yeah,” you laugh. It’s deep and watery. “Things were…bad one night. He found me. Talked me through the night. Listened to me.” You throw your head back, eyes tracing imaginary patterns on the ceiling.
“He told Price?”
You nod.
“That was after we…”
You nod again. Simon feels sick.
“It had nothing to do with you, Simon.”
“I never thought it did.”
“Then why,” you ask, “did you bring it up?”
Simon shifts. “Thought it was relevant.”
You smile, though your eyes are still lined with tears. “Guilty conscience?”
“Of course not, love,” Simon laughs, hoping you buy it. It works, he thinks. You seem to deflate, slumping a bit. You take some time to think. Simon, panicking at the thought that your self-reflection could send him out the door, pulls out the one trick he has over you.
He lets your legs fall. They bang against the cabinets with a soft umph from your lips. Simon slides off of the counter and stalks your way. You watch him and put up no fight as he slots his wide body between your knees. You don't even complain as the parting of your legs forces your skirt to ride even higher.
Fingers card through Simon’s hair. He hums.
“Why did you do it?” You ask.
Simon tilts his head, and with the wine in his veins and your hand in his hair, the world spins. Your other hand slips under the hem of Simon’s shirt. Warm fingers graze the skin of his stomach and then side, before your hand settles on his back, palm splaying across scarred flesh.
“I–” Simon croaks, “–I felt something for you.”
You snort. Simon’s chest burns and he takes some deep breaths to calm himself. He imagines Price’s paper bag, inflating and crinkling over and over.
“You knew I would leave. That’s it, isn’t it?” You accuse with a gleam in your eyes. “I was in a bad place and was leaving so it didn’t matter if you hit it and quit it.” You laugh. “You got what you wanted without risking your position.”
“That’s not true.”
Your thighs bracket his legs, trapping him against you. Your words curl around your wine-stained tongue. “‘I don’t love you’. Isn’t that what you said Simon?”
“Love–”
You tense, thighs squeezing him like a vice. “Love,” you coo, the imitation of Simon’s long vowels curtles unnaturally on your tongue. “Love, love, love. You know Simon,” you wrap your hands around the back of his neck and lean into the crook of his neck. Your lips brush against his skin as you speak, “You say it, but you’ve never meant it.”
“I’m sorry,” Simon utters, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of your skirt.
“You’re not.”
He’s not. He doesn’t argue. He could– should, rather –but he can’t think straight with you this close to him. The scent of your perfume itches the deepest part of his brain. You never wore perfume when on duty, rather, always coated in the aroma of base-issued shampoo and sweat.
“I really cared for you, you know,” you whisper, your lips millimeters from his, them parting when his fingers rub you through the fabric of your underwear.
“I know,” Simon closes the distance, capturing your lips with his.
He pushes you back onto the counter, you let him, lets Simon cage your body like he has the right to. You groan into his mouth when he traps your bottom lip between his teeth and melt when his fingers slip past the hem of your panties, his fingers plunging through the wetness into your cunt.
It’s obscene— the noises you make as he thrusts his fingers into you. With his free hand, Simon pushes your skirt up over your hips so he can watch your cunt squeeze around him.
He slides his thumb up to your clit and you gasp. “Simon,” you moan. He nearly stops. It’s been years since he’s heard you say his name, let alone moan it. Fuck, Simon can’t help but grind his cock against the island counter, groaning.
It doesn’t take much to work you into an orgasm. Before he knows it, your moans become softer, higher pitched, and you’re coming apart, clenching hard on Simon’s fingers.
He works you through your orgasm, whispering praise into your ears. Simon gives you no time before pouncing, fisting his hands in your hair and devouring you. You wiggle underneath his weight, uttering something, but the words are lost into Simon’s mouth. He pulls away, his eyes meeting your expectant ones.
“What?”
“Upstairs,” you say, chest heaving. “My room is upstairs.”
***
Simon wakes before dawn. He’s lying on top of you, your strong breath rocking him up and down. Your limbs are impossibly tangled. He’s reminded of an identical morning, years ago, of what he did then, and what that choice led him to. But that was years ago. You were different then, broken. How was he supposed to know that his choice would make you shatter?
He untangles himself slowly. It feels like the process takes hours, though the sun fails to make an appearance by the time he slips out of bed. The clock reads four in the morning. That explains it. It also explains the way the room around him is spinning slightly. He’s still drunk– or at least buzzed –from the night before.
His pants are an easy find, discarded by the door. His shirt though… Simon spins around the room, eyes glazing over the space. He tries not to take anything in too deeply, too personal for this morning.
He spots his shirt on your vanity. Simon yanks it off, but something hard and heavy comes with it. It nearly drops to the floor, but Simon catches it before it can hit and wake you up.
It’s a perfume bottle, heavy and half-filled. Simon can’t suppress the urge of his half-drunk brain to sniff it. The scent— the scent of you —explodes in his synapses. He tosses a glance over his shoulder, ensuring you’re still asleep, before pocketing the bottle.
The dog follows Simon as he walks through the house. Luckily, as he slips on his shoes, the dog disappears into the rest of the house.
Simon lingers with a hand wrapped around the door knob. It warms under his touch.
“Are we doing this again?”
He flinches at the sound of your voice, “I ‘ave to.” Simon stays facing the door, though he doesn’t make a move to turn around. He knows how he must look to you, too cowardly to face you. He’s reminded of the last time he spent the night with you. He got out scot-free. What would have happened if you found him then? Simon can’t say for certain whether or not he would have left then, if you called out for him in the same delicate voice.
“Stay.”
“What?”
“In New York,” you say, voice dry with sleep. “With me. Get out of the SAS, the 141, all that bullshit.”
“‘S not that easy.”
“It is. I left. You can leave. Or you can stay and end up like Johnny–”
“What do you know about Johnny,’ Simon growls, turning on his heels. He straightens his spine, puffing his chest up like you’re a threat. Your dog buys it, growling and worming himself between you and Simon. You don't take the bait though. You honest to God laugh in Simon’s face.
“I know enough.” You step closer to Simon. The pooch gets the memo, clearing the way for you. Simon almost does the same, he wants to. Some instinctual part of his brain needs to cave to you. “You mean something, Simon,” you flick your eyebrows up, letting them drop immediately. It feels like a challenge, like you were asking Simon the silent question. Do you matter?
“You’re more than a soldier– more than a body on a field, waiting to drop.” There are tears in your eyes. You don't let them fall. Simon hopes you’ve finally realized that he isn’t worth your heartbreak. He’s never been, but at least your realization would stop his cruel cycle of him chewing you up and spitting you right back out.
“Come to New York, Simon, please. There– there’s a butcher shop up the block, they’re always looking for help. You said you used to do that stuff, right?”
Fucking hell. He had said it to you, years ago after a mission. Simon went drink for drink with Johnny and Gaz and got positively wasted. It was the night he first set his sight on you, when your tenderness sunk its claws into his heart and refused to let go. You didn’t know then what it would lead to. Simon did. Every love Simon had wilted in his claws. Why would you be different?
“Come here,” you plead, “Take the job with them. I can help you find an apartment or you can live with me but–” You grab Simon’s shoulders, tugging. It isn’t strong enough to turn him around, but he does. Your cheeks are wet and eyes glassy as you stare up at him. “Simon, it’s too late for us, but don’t let it be too late for you.”
Simon lifts his hand to your cheek, fingers grazing the plump skin. It slides to the back of your head and tugs– yanks you into his embrace as he crashes your lips against his own. The morning makes you soft though, as Simon nips your lips with his teeth, you melt, softening and slowing your movements.
It’s you that pulls away first, staring at Simon. You let him swipe his finger across your cheek, caressing you.
“Please,” you beg, kissing the palm of his hand.
Simon lets his hand fall from you. It sits achingly cold at his side.
It would be cowardly to leave you without a goodbye after forcing himself back into your life, even if it was for one night. Simon considers himself to be many things, but never a coward. Yet, standing in front of you, staring into your expectant eyes, words don’t come easy.
You step towards him. Simon steps back. The door knob presses into his back. His heart is pounding, the blood in his eyes deafening him. Your scent wafts his way, your perfume. The one whose bottle he knocked over, nearly let slip through his fingers and shatter. The one which you never got to wear in the 141. The one weighing down his back pocket.
“I shouldn’t have come,” Simon says.
He doesn’t look back. Not when you gasp his name. Not when he opens the door. Not when he walks down the snowy street.
Price and Gaz will ask about his holiday. They’re kind like that. In the cab to the airport, passing the bottle of perfume between his hands, Simon considers his answer. Single word answers are his forté, but won’t suffice with the prying curiosities of his captain and sergeant.
The answer comes to him when he sniffs the perfume once more.
In the coming week, when Gaz claps him on the back, he will ask, “How was the holiday, Ghost?”
Simon will answer, “I had a meal with an old friend.”
#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley fanfiction#ghost fanfiction#cod fanfic#ghost x female reader
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coat stays on - remus lupin x reader
pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader
word count: 1.3k
warnings: it’s just sickly sickly fluff my loves
a/n: @burnthoneydrops encouraged me to post this weeks ago and honestly i totally forgot about it but she’s wonderful and i can’t deny her!! i hope you enjoy, it’s the first i’ve written for remus so i’m a little conscious of it! i’ve also just opened up requests and you can see the characters i’ll write for here, please send in all the fluffiest fluff your hearts can think of <3
- - -
If your hand was starting to feel a little clammy in the crook of Remus’ arm, you weren’t saying anything. The streets were lined with market stalls and lots and lots of people, more importantly, and you were pretty sure if you let go of him right now you might never see him again.
“Doing alright sweetheart?” he asked, leaning his head down to your ear so you’d hear him properly because the man refused to raise his voice even a little, “Still with me?”
You squeeze him tighter to you and rest your head on his arm briefly rather than answering. The two of you had long since lost the others in the crowd, likely because you weren’t clinging to them as you did Remus. It would make you feel silly if it didn’t make you feel ten times better.
It had been Lily’s idea to venture out into the Sunday markets in town, but she clearly hadn’t thought about the timing. Just days before Valentine’s Day and it was packed, almost shoulder to shoulder as you traversed the street. But the 5pm February darkness had enveloped the cobblestones and most of the stalls had decided to illuminate their wares with pretty fairy lights on strings, wrapped around the poles. All kinds of colours. There was a helter skelter a little ways down that was lit up in warm gold.
Despite struggling with the sheer volume of people, Lily had been right that it would be something you’d enjoy.
Remus steers you towards a stall with a blue and white striped roof, filled with fudge of every flavour you can think of. He’s quiet as he stares at them all in turn, but when his eyes land on your favourite, you watch him smile and point it out to one of the sellers.
“That’s not fair,” you murmur, nudging him with a sharp elbow, but either he doesn’t hear you or he ignores you. To get your own back, you signal to the other seller and ask for Remus’ favourite in return.
“Here we are,” he says, handing you the paper bag once you’re a little away from the stall. You’re smug as you hand him one right back. He looks inside before he pouts at you and its adorable. He’s adorable.
“Thank you,” you grin and he rolls his eyes but still thanks you back. Then he points over your shoulder, where the buskers are playing, to the little tables for resting shoppers. There’s an empty one. The two of you share a brief look before you scurry over to claim it. When you sit across from him, you have to let go of his arm and it feels all wrong.
Until, of course, he shuffles his chair around the table so you’re sitting next to each other instead, facing the band.
You’re both content to nibble on your respective fudge for a while, listening to the music, but Remus breaks the comfortable quiet.
“I’m sorry we lost the others,” he says, face close to yours in a way that makes your chest ache, “I know you and Lily were looking forward to this together.”
He’s right in one way, because you were. But it was also inevitable that you’d only get half of Lily’s evening and that James would get the other, something you were thrilled about, honestly, if it meant that during that other half you got Remus.
You couldn’t quite tell him that, yet, so you settled for the next best thing.
“Sirius was in one of his moods,” you shrug, “I think we’ve come out of this one on top.”
Remus doesn’t laugh. You find it quite hard to make him laugh and you used to be conscious of it. You’ve since found that the little smile he does towards his lap is even more gratifying, like he’s holding in a belting laugh out of something that looks like fondness.
He’s doing it now, bottom lip caught by his teeth.
“Right as always,” he muses, looking back up at you, soft as ever. You struggle to keep the awe from your face.
“I am often right,” you whisper back, breaking off another chunk of fudge and popping it into your mouth, “It’s really pretty here at night. Shame about the people.”
“They’re awful, aren’t they?” Remus says, only joking a little, “Although, I’d rather you didn’t come here at night when no one’s around, hm?”
You nudge him again just because you can. He catches your elbow as if punishing you but all he does is run his hand down from your forearm to your hand to see if you’re cold.
“Mr Protective, you are. As if I’d want to come here on my own, idiot.”
“You’re cold,” he says instead, mutters it like he’s talking to himself as he squeezes both your hands in his own. You wonder if he even heard you call him an idiot like he was your favourite person on the planet.
“It’s an evening in February, lovely, of course I’m cold.”
You watch his pink-tinged cheeks to see if the blush deepens at your best name for him, but you can’t tell if it’s just from the chill in the air. He starts unbuttoning his coat, leaning forward in the chair to take it off.
“Woah, slow down there Rem,” you insist, holding your hands out to him to stop him, “I am fine. Since when do you worry about me so much?”
He doesn’t answer straight away but he does put his arm back into his coat. He’s thinking about what to say, something you’ll always let him do, but it means he’s going to answer seriously. It’s worrying when you’d just been teasing him.
“I always worry about you, I think. Absentmindedly. Wondering if you feel alright, if you’re comfortable. You haven’t looked very comfortable this evening.”
He doesn’t lie to you, ever, but you’re pretty sure that’s the most honest Remus has ever been with you. He can’t even look at you either, just staring at the floor and scuffing his shoe against the chair leg.
“Remus…”
“I don’t like you cold. And I don’t like to think of you alone. Sorry. I know you don’t need looking after like that.”
And he sounds heartbroken enough to break your heart.
“No, I don’t need looking after,” you confirm softly, because it’s true. He’s always said you’re the most independent person he knows. But you still wind your arm through his and tug him into your side, “I’d quite like it if it’s you, though, I think. If you’ll let me return the favour.”
It’s always the returning that he’s not so adept with. Your affection and your time and your energy are all things he struggles to see he deserves. It’s mostly why you worry about him too.
“Don’t take your coat off for me though,” you warn, putting your head on his shoulder, “You idiot.”
This time he definitely hears you and he must hear how utterly smitten that word is. He’s your idiot. He has to know it by now.
“Okay. Coat stays on,” he murmurs, turning to press a kiss to your crown and then place his chin there, gentle as ever, “Also, I lied. I’m very glad we lost the others, by the way. Not sorry at all.”
So maybe he did lie to you sometimes. It was a lie you didn’t mind, even if you’d pretend to.
“Yeah? Why’s that now?”
He slowly nods his head until his nose is nuzzling you instead of his chin, and you feel another feather light kiss, this one near your ear.
“Like you lots. Even more than them,” he breathes, and you try not to melt into him then and there.
“Oh lovely,” you whisper, “Like you lots too.”
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How I Manifested $50k USD
Hi!!! I'm gonna tell you guys how i manifested $50,000 for my dad. So basically my dad had a bunch of credit card debt because he wasn't getting paid very well at his job. This had been going on for a couple months and he had racked up at least $7,000 on his credit card. He brought it up a lot and we'd have to start budgeting and stuff. Anyways a few days ago i wanted my hair done and my dad said we couldn't afford it. This deeply annoyed me for like two days but then i was like "wait, I could just manifest him some money." I've never really manifested large amounts of money like this purely because of limiting beliefs that i've had. Anyways i picked the first number that came into mind, $50k. I was in class at the time and was bored out of my mind and i was just like "fuck it." So i affirmed 3 times that my dad has received 50k and went on about my day, i affirmed any chance i remembered too and i think on the 3rd or 2nd day I woke up one morning and i heard my dad cheering and practically jumping for joy. Now mind you it was like 5am and i had only gotten like 5 hours of sleep (it was midterms week) and I was a little tired and i wondered why he was so happy and i thought to myself "oh must be the money i manifested him". Since then there's been no mention of the credit card debt, and when i asked him to bring me to get my hair done he said yes with no other comments! (im actually getting my hair done as i write this!) I saw his Bank of america transactions and that he received the exact amount that i affirmed for! Now idk if taxes is gonna take some of that money away but I am very proud of myself.
Sorry if this post was really long, I haven't posted on this blog for awhile but i promise i will be more active!! I also listened to adambjas "I am in control" tape a lot and this one https://drive.google.com/file/d/1yeGwSoOmOt4fUIG-wAzXJSBOcCoTLQvd/view?pli=1 , which I think helped a lot.
I ALSO FORGOT TO MENTION that i deleted tumblr off my phone cause i was overconsuming info and i was just getting stressed tf out. I think deleting tumblr was the last push i really needed.
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SOMEONE REQUESTED THIS I CANT HELP TO MAKE IT!! IT'S SO SWEET!!
(I accidentally added the OG post on Queue and can't get it out, but thankfully, I took a picture of it)
Voiceless
Luke Castellan X Daughter of Apollo!Reader
Summary: The only thing that Luke Castellan loves in this world is his girlfriend and her angelic voice.
Warnings: Kissing, Cursing, Kinda toxic relationship??!
Author's Note: Hello guys! Another request for the day, I'm typing this on my phone since I forgot my laptop, Oh well, please forgive me for any grammatical mistakes and typos! My keyboard hates me 😍
——
The Camp Fire singalong ended an hour ago, but that didn't stop You and Luke, He had his head on your lap, breathing in and out as you ran your hands through his soft curls. The bonfire had little to no embers, but it still kept you two warm.
"Can you sing for me?" Luke whispered, His Hazel eyes met your brown ones. Apollo's children were always the lead singers from singalongs, Especially you, You had an angelic voice and campers liked it, so did Luke.
Not caring that your throat was a little sore, You nodded and started singing.
Boys, workin' on empty
Is that the kinda way to face the burning heat?
I just think about my baby
I'm so full of love I could barely eat
There's nothing sweeter than my baby
I'd never want once from the cherry tree
'Cause my baby's sweet as can be
She give me toothaches just from kissin' me
Flashback
Luke sat in the mess hall, His palm gingerly nursing the side of his cheeks, He had a rough day, Apparently, a new armour that like commissioned from one of the children in the hephaestus cabin still wasn't ready, and he wasn't able to use it. But it was Capture the Flag day, so he used his old and cranky armour, which displeased him.
You noticed from afar, Your halfsiblings chatting loudly, So you had enough, Grabbing your tray, you walked towards Luke, sitting on an empty Hermes table (Since his halfsiblings left, It's better to leave than to mess with an angry luke), The Hermes boy barely touched his food, he was rather poking it.
"Hey" He was greeted with your soft, melodic voice from behind, His mood changed from annoyed to cheerful. His eyes softening as he watched you sit beside him.
"Hm, how's your day?" He hummed whilst brushing a strand of hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear.
"I should be the one asking you that—" Then, He felt something touch his lips, It was your fork, with a slice of blueberry pie, He tasted some of the cream, He tried to fight the urge to open his mouth since he didn't feel like eating.
"C'mon, it's bad if you don't eat, You don't wanna end up in the infirmary with one of my halfsiblings ranting about your presence." He looked at your eyes, there was a glint of hope that he'll actually take a bite.
He can't resist your eyes, Those eyes with much hope looking at him.
So he did, He opened his mouth and let the flavours sink In.
He did eat that night, with you feeding him like a baby.
—
When my time comes around
Lay me gently in the cold, dark earth
No grave can hold my body down
I'll crawl home to her
Flashback
Luke was injured, You don't know how or why. He just appeared infront of the Apollo cabin, There was a deep gash in his forearm, One of the archers from your cabin accidentally shot him an arrow, You assumed that He and Chris were probably not paying attention while they walked pass by the archery area.
"I got you something." He breathed, waiting for your reaction.
But still, He managed to appear in front of you, despite your protests that he must be brought to the infirmary, He kept a brave face, holding a messily made bouquet of flowers.
"Oh Luke..." You threw yourself onto his arms, making him stumble a little, He chuckled.
"Now let's get you into the infirmary!"
—
Boys, when my baby found me
I was three days on a drunken sin
I woke with her walls around me
Nothin' in her room but an empty crib
And I was burnin' up a fever
I didn't care much how long I lived
But I swear I thought I dreamed her
She never asked me once about the wrong I did
Flashback
"Luke? Luke!" The dark-haired boy jolted awake, His eyes meeting the stormy skies whilst the raindrops hit his face.
"Hey baby," He groaned, His orange CHB shirt stained with mud, He slept on it after all. Then you remembered... The party in the Dionysus might have gotten a little wild...
"Luke, you smell like— Booze." You tried not to gagged at his scent, But he just brushed it off, Tumbling as he tried to got up.
"Let's get you inside, Some of my halfsiblings are away, so it's fine taking a fellow camper" You muttered while giving all your strength to carry him. You felt kinda embarrassed, Luke, Your boyfriend had carried you multiple times effortlessly, but now, you can't even take steps.
After what felt like an internity, you reached your bunk and flopped luke on it, His eyes sleepily drifting off again, but this time, your face was the one he's dreaming about.
—
When my time comes around
Lay me gently in the cold, dark earth
No grave can hold my body down
I'll crawl home to her
Flashback
Luke was now in the infirmary, sitting lazily on a stool while your half siblings rushed to get medical supplies to heal him.
"Y'know, this is just a small scratch baby, you're making this a big deal." You turned your head to his direction so fast, you could've sworn you almost gave yourself a whiplash.
"Luke, Your forearm is literally dripping with blood, caused by an arrow. AN ARROW!" You bellowed, Everyone in the infirmary looked at you like a lunatic, some patients even muttering curses at you for interrupting their sleep.
"Still, I got you flowers, didn't I?" His grin made you melt, but the sight of his injury made you frown.
But you can't be mad at his handsome face.
"Yes yes, You did I love you for that, now Where's Ella? We need to give you an injection"
"INJECTION?"
—
My babe would never fret none
About what my hands and my body done
If the Lord don't forgive me
I'd still have my baby and my babe would have me
When I was kissing on my baby
And she put her love down soft and sweet
In the low lamplight I was free
Heaven and hell were words to me
Flashback
" I can't believe you'll do that!" You screamed, tears streaming down your face. Your red dress, once nicely ironed, was now crumpled. It wasn't even midnight, and you two were fighting again. Over a boy.
"Because that pathetic excuse of a bastard deserved it!" He Yelled, His voice booming inside your cabin.
"He's just having a normal conversation with me! you're the one who's deranged!" You cried, Luke couldn't stand the sight of you crying, so he kissed you, it wasn't a passionate one, it was a possessive one, with his strong arms gripping your wrists, pinning you into the wall.
you pulled away for a second, His lips still near yours.
"I hate you" You whispered, His lips touched yours again, smudging your lipstick.
"Show me how much you hate me"
You could've sworn you saw him smirk before kissing you roughly again.
—
When my time comes around
Lay me gently in the cold, dark earth
No grave can hold my body down
I'll crawl home to her
Flashback
"I'm sorry baby, please let me in" Luke whispered as he peaked through the small crack on your door.
"You can't come and go as you please," you said, your voice cracking, You tried not to cry, You love him , but you can't just keep supporting him after all the things he'd done.
Now, he was carrying a duffle bag, full of stolen artefacts from the Gods. You were God fearing. That's when you realize it when your father, Apollo, had punished your mother, blinding her using his powerful Ray of sunlight.
"You'd do this for me, honey.." He whispered desperately, but you just shook your head.
"I'm sorry..."
"No no no! Y/n! Y/N!" He screamed as he watched you walk away.
—
When my time comes around
Lay me gently in the cold, dark earth
No grave can hold my body down
I'll crawl home to her
Flashback
You sat in the edge of your bed, still sobbing silently, Your halfsiblings gave you pathetic and sorry looks, but none of their pity could make you the same.
The God you admired the most, Your own father had taken your voice as a punishment, or that's what oracle said. Apparently, you had offended him by your blasphemous acts using his sacred song. Now you were voiceless.
"Baby?" Luke's voice greeted you.
You looked up at him, Your eyes glistening with tear as you ran into his arms sobbing violently.
"Shh...I know sweetheart.." He rubbed his hands behind your back, Kissing your temple at the same time.
As the dark haired boy comforted you, He smirked secretly, You were so easy to manipulate, with your doe eyes and your sweet smile, As you slowly fell asleep in Luke's arms, A rose necklace sat inside his pocket, Ever so beautiful, with your own voice trapped inside it.
A/N: HEY, GUYS! So this is a request! I used the 'Work Song' by Hozier, Every lyrics has an indication of the reader and Luke's past, I kinda wanna give them a toxic relationship, so....🫢🫢 I do hope you liked this!!
I apologise once again for any grammatical errors since my keyboard hates me ❤️
#luke castellan x reader#percy jackon and the olympians#xy/n#charlie bushnell#percy jackson#luke castellan#lovers
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WORTH THE WAIT — KIM MINGYU ࿐
summary. mingyu forgets about the date you’ve had planned and he wants to show you he’s sorry in a rather unconventional way.
wc. 1.8k
warning. unprotected sex, couch sex, dumbification, lots of apologizing, big d!ck!gyu (ofc), kinda angsty but it’s all resolved, creampie — MINORS DNI 18+
note. this idea was sent by my beloved 🌵 anon… like…. literal months ago lol— it was a drabble at first, then it got a bit too long, so enjoy it xx [not proofread, kinda shitty]
contrary to belief, kim mingyu does have a few faults. he can be a bit clumsy and he’ll accidentally eat your leftovers every time he’s over, but the biggest fault of them all is… he can be a bit forgetful.
so when mingyu accidentally double books hanging out with wonwoo on the same night as your date, you find yourself dolled up and waiting around your apartment for him, unaware of his whereabouts. you hadn’t seen him much due to your conflicting schedules and you’d been looking forward to the date all week long.
you wait and wait— 15 minutes, 30 minutes, an hour. you text him a few times, but you don’t get a response and you figure he’s at work, asleep, or doing something else. whatever the case may be, he definitely forgot.
mingyu doesn’t realize this until he’s checking his phone for the first time of the hectic game night and he sees a string of text messages from you.
from you 6:33
i can’t wait to see u!! :,)
from you 7:07
hi babyyy, text me when you’re here and i’ll come down
from you 7:39
gyu are you still coming?
if you wanna reschedule, we can… just text me back and let me know?
from you 8:02
i checked ur location to make sure u weren’t dead and i saw you were at woo’s
i’m just gonna assume ur with him, which is fine :) pls just let me know next time.
shit.
shit shit shit.
regardless of what you say, it’s not fine— he can practically hear your dejected voice through the text and the smiley face doesn’t do shit to mask it.
he’s quick to tell wonwoo and make his way to your place, insides churning at the thought of you feeling stood up. he would never, in a million years, ever want to hurt you in any way.
he doesn’t text he’s here, he doesn’t knock, he just takes the spare key hidden under your placemat and lets himself in.
you’re curled up on the couch in your date outfit watching some random show before you jolt at the sound of your door being unlocked. when mingyu walks in, panic on his face, you deflate a bit, internally thanking the universe that it was just him and not some intruder.
“baby…”
you try to put a smile on as if he isn’t the last person you wanted to see at the moment, but mingyu sees through it.
“hi, gyu.” you say curtly. “hope you had fun at wonwoo’s tonight.”
the subtle shade proves you’re upset, even if you had said it unconsciously. his lips turn down in a frown and he walks around the couch so he’s posted right in front of you.
“Y/N, you have to believe me— i’m so sorry. i got the days—“
you cut him off with a sigh, “gyu, seriously. it’s fine. it’s not that big of a deal. we can just do something the next time you’re free.”
he doesn’t even know when next time will be given his rather strenuous schedule and you know that, yet those words come out of your mouth anyway. he huffs softly and takes a seat next to you, intertwining your hands into his.
“baby, please,” he whispers. “you know i would never stand you up on purpose. i lost my mind and got the days mixed up– please let me make it up to you.”
you shrug, avoiding eye contact. you want to stay mad, but the way he’s looking at you… the way he’s holding your hands… it’s making it impossible not to melt into a helpless puddle. “how?” you ask meekly.
he doesn’t say anything, letting go of your hands in favor of cupping your cheek and pulling you in. his soft lips meet yours and you practically forget why you’re angry to begin with. his tongue quickly finds its way into your mouth and your soft moan eases his nerves a bit.
he pulls back, leaving you warm and fuzzy and a bit needy for more of him. he finally takes you in when his eyes open. you’re still in a pretty little outfit– presumably, one you’d picked out for your date– and it makes him groan a little bit.
“you look so pretty, baby. you wore this all for me?”
you nod your head slowly. “i was really excited to show you…”
he frowns, “i know, i’m sorry… i’m so, so sorry,” he mumbles and you don’t say anymore, simply nodding your head at his apology. his lips are on yours again, rougher this time. it’s like he’s trying to prove just how sorry he is with every passing second.
and when he breaks the kiss again, you whine. “gyu…”
“wanna take this off. can i?” he asks, referring to your dress and you just nod again.
his hands find the hem, pulling it up and over your head, leaving you in your even prettier set. the black lace adorns your body and mingyu feels his pants tighten at the mere sight.
he’s breathless when the pet name falls from his lips, “baby…”
he’s so glad you didn’t change, but he feels like such an idiot for fucking up this bad. he wishes he checked his phone earlier, he wishes he remembered your date was tonight, he wishes he could’ve taken you out in your gorgeous dress and brought you back home to see the even more gorgeous set underneath.
but he’ll make up for it. he’ll spend all the time in the world doing so if he needs to.
he stands to his feet pulling his shorts off and revealing his aching cock. you bite your lip and slide down so your back and head are comfortably on the cushion of your couch, eyes trained on his huge length.
he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, rolling them down your legs and leaving your now-wet cunt bare.
“so beautiful… so fuckin’ beautiful angel, can… can i keep going?”
you whimper and wordlessly nod again, brain unable to give him a verbal response. he grunts, joining you back on the couch by getting in between your legs.
“tell me when…” he whispers, aligning himself with your hole before pressing his fat cock into you. “fuck, so tight…”
the burning stretch of your walls opening to take him makes your head spin a bit. no matter how many times he fucks you, it always hurts.
at first, at least, because now he’s balls deep in your pulsing cunt and all you can feel is blinding pleasure. the burn and stretch have subsided and your brain has turned to complete and utter mush.
you clench around him tightly and he has to ask, “are you good, baby?”
you dumbly nod– it’s all you can do– but mingyu can’t help but feel more anxiety fill his body. you’ve barely said any words to him and it makes him worry that you won’t forgive him.
you moan when his cock leaves just for it to suddenly fill you back up with a single, sharp thrust. this is how it starts before he’s moving faster and faster.
words still fail to leave your mouth, just cute gasps and clipped moans, but mingyu can’t seem to stop breathy apologies from leaving his own. “‘m sorry… you know that right, angel? ‘m so sorry.”
and your eyes just roll back, ignoring his apologies as you’re all consumed by his massive cock fucking in and out of you. mindless babbles escape your lips and it’s not till then does mingyu realize how brainless you’ve become.
it makes his heart clench. you’ve never gotten like this for him before and he knows it’s a result of being left to your own devices for far too long. he knows he hasn’t been there for you, knows you haven’t been able to cum properly in god knows how long and it hurts him. it hurts him so fucking bad.
and, to be transparent, he’s missed you more than you know.
his hand finds your abdomen, pressing down so he can feel himself thrusting into you. in doing so, his thumb reaches your clit and this seems to bring some life to you. “gyu!” you cry. “feels s’good!”
he lets out an elated chuckle at the sound of your voice, “yeah? it feels good, angel?”
and it’s almost like you read his mind with your next words. “s-so good, m-missed you.”
a guttural groan erupts in his throat and he starts to fuck you harder– to fuck you deeper– and the thumb on your clit moves quicker, effectively stimulating the swollen bud. “me too– fuck, missed you so much. missed fucking this pretty pussy so much, baby, you don’t even know.”
your face pinches together in pleasure and you clamp his dick harder at the affirmation. “i-i’m–” you let out a gaspy whine and mingyu knows exactly what it means.
“gonna cum?” he finishes your broken sentence.
you nod eagerly, eyebrows knit together as you feel the formed knot in your tummy get tighter and tighter. “gyu–”
he shushes, thrusts growing erratic. his voice is hot and breathy and you can tell, just by the sound of it, he’s just as close as you are. “just cum for me, baby– need you to let go ‘n cum all over my cock. you can do it.”
you cry, body going taut as you cream all over him, pussy trapping him between your pulsing, velvet walls. mindlessly, you babble out some words that he can barely make out, but the second he hears those three words– i love you, said in your cute, pitchy voice– his worries wash away.
he’s overcome by love and the feeling of you gripping him for dear life and the only thing he can do is press his hips flush against yours and fill you up the way he knows you need. his cum paints your walls, fulfilling the craving you didn’t even know you had.
“god,” he moans, panting out, cock still twitching between your spasming walls. “please forgive me, angel. i promise i’ll be better ‘n make more time for you”
part of your mind finds its way back to you after a few seconds and you can’t help but giggle at his words. “i forgave you after you kissed me, babe.”
he smiles, large hands caressing your body, “really?”
you hum, hazy eyes taking him in, “mmh, you’re really hard to be mad at, you know that, right?”
“good ‘cus i don’t like when you’re mad at me.”
“well, then don’t do stupid things.”
he whines, “baby, you know that’s impossible for me, stupidity is practically in my dna.”
you giggle at the joke. “i know… but… i won’t be so nice to you next time you decided to hang out with wonwoo instead of taking me out.”
“you can be as mean to me as you want, baby, but i swear, i’ll never stand you up ever again.”
“good.” you smile back at him. “now… maybe you can prove how sorry you are again? in my bed this time?”
© cheolhub — all rights reserved, please refrain from copying, reposting, modifying or translating my work on any platform.
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Never Letting You Go
Masterlist
Pairing | Agent Javier Pena x Agent F!Reader
Summary | What starts out as a shitty Valentine’s Day turns into everything that you’ve ever wanted. Javi treats you the way you need, by never letting you go.
A/N: First time writing for Javier's character, forgot this was in the vault. Enjoy
(As a reminder I'm no longer doing tag lists, make sure to turn on notifications on my page for when I post).
Warnings | 18+, Minors DNI, Smut
Language, angst, mentions of prostitution and Agent work, mentions of the cartel, mentions of cheating (from your previous relationship), grinding, mentions of penetrative sex, soft fluffy moments.
Word Count: 5.5K
“Fuck baby,” he said, grinding against your ass with a little bit more force. “Do you feel that? See, that’s what you fucking do to me woman.” Javi was now rocking harder into you, giving you slow deep thrusts. You could feel his hard outline in his pants as he was seated firmly against you. “This is what you’ve always done to me. I don’t hate you, fuck baby, I like you. I want you. So if you’ll shut up long enough, then maybe you’ll hear me say it.”
Today was Valentine's Day, and usually this was something that didn’t concern Javier Peña. He was a DEA agent that was in the middle of trying to bring down drug dealers and drug lords, he didn’t have time to be concerned about feelings or emotions on a specific day on the calendar. But yet here he was, in the files room pacing back and forth, trying to calm his nerves. Javier was never nervous when it came to the opposite sex. He usually was always so calm, cool, and collected when handling them. Well, except for today that is, and especially when dealing with you. Somehow you had gotten under his skin just enough that now he was pacing back and forth, mind racing of what to do if you didn't like the gift that he just left you on your desk. He was so lost in his own head that he didn’t hear the door open and Steve Murphy step in.
“Javi, what the hell are you-” Steve said, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw Javi pacing back and forth, running his hand down his face.
“She ain’t gonna like the gift. Why did you say it was from you and not a secret admirer? Jesus. Soy un idiota (I’m such an idiot).” Javi mumbled to himself.
“You got a lady a Valentine’s gift there Peña?” Murphy said, slamming the files on the desk and causing Javi to jump. Javi just stood there, not answering his friend and fellow DEA agent’s question. Steve, seeing how nervous Javi was, continued to tease him slightly. “Who’s the lucky girl, Peña?”
Before he could answer, they both heard you marching down the hall, yelling, “Peña, I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you, you arrogant bastard.”
About a year ago you were transferred to Columbia in an attempt to assist in the capture of Pablo Escobar. At first, you were excited about serving your country and bringing the bad guys to justice. That was before meeting your two male DEA partner’s, however. The first time you met Steve Murphy and Javier Peña it was love at first insult. You were the head female DEA agent hired to work alongside them in helping bring down the Medellín Cartel, and subsequently Pablo Escobar. However, your transfer to Columbia somehow pissed both of them off.
Since you had arrived, all those two idiots did was piss you off one way or another. They were the biggest source of your headaches and irritations to date, and one of the biggest reasons why you hated your current job. They wouldn’t listen to you, and they continuously left you out of the loop on information. To make matters worse, when they got bored you were the target of their practical jokes, like today.
Today was Valentine’s Day, and one day on the calendar that you wished you could just completely remove. You hated Valentine’s Day with a passion, ever since you found your ex-fiance balls deep in your sister on Valentine’s Day one year ago. It was after that you found out that the man who you thought loved you had always cheated on you with your sister, from Moment. Fucking. One. You were together five years with him, and apparently all those five years he was also fucking your sister every chance he got. You were happy to hear that her husband caught them in bed and had filed for a divorce. You thought it was poetic how she lost a man who made a shit ton of money for an asshole who could hardly pay rent for his shitty apartment. So when you took the job transfer to Columbia you felt okay with the situation that had happened, as shitty as it sounded.
But then last night your sister called you and informed you that she was getting married, and that she was pregnant too. She advised you that it would be best if you didn’t attend the wedding because of hard feelings the two of you had. When you asked who the soon-to-be husband and dad was, she had informed you that it was your ex-fiance and that they both were happy they found someone that loved them deeply. As soon as you heard that, you told her to ‘go to fucking hell,’ and then slammed the phone down. Out of anger and rage you grabbed the bottle of alcohol that was on the counter, and downed most of it in one go. Yeah, you weren’t going to that fucking wedding.
When you woke up and realized it was Valentine’s Day, you seriously contemplated calling in work sick. But you remembered that you had a morning meeting with your bosses and you knew that Javi and Steve wouldn’t show up. So you begrudgingly got up and showered, swearing underneath your breath of how life wasn’t fair. You hated today, Valentine’s Day, with a passion. Six years ago you met your ex on Valentine’s Day because he was stood up on a date, a date with your sister you found out much later. Then last year, on Valentine’s Day, you caught him cheating with your sister. How did life get so fucked up?
To add to your already sour mood, when you got into work early you noticed that all the rest of the females in the office had big bouquet of flowers on their desks from Javi and Steve. Each of them had a note saying that they really appreciated all the hard work that they have done, and that they were special angels for helping them out. When you got to your desk you didn’t see any flowers or note telling you that you were special. The only note that you saw was from Steve saying “don’t fuck up this meeting” and asked if you took your “anti-bitch pill today yet.” Yeah you hated this fucking day.
The meeting that was only supposed to be an hour went on for three long hours, and you were berated for two out of the three hours in the meeting. You had to once again mop up the mess that both Steve and Javi had created, promising to get results instead of excuses. Recently, all the leads that your department was getting in capturing Escobar were cold, no one had seen him or heard of him in almost a month. Even when you went in and shook the crime tree, nothing fell out of place which made everyone uneasy, especially your superiors.
Finally when the meeting was over with you were able to return to your desk to try to let your heart and blood pressure return to normal. When you approached your desk, you saw a little basket there with a pretty red ribbon with sparkles in it. You looked around quickly to see if anyone noticed or was standing there, you also glanced quickly under your desk to make sure Steve or Javi wasn’t sitting there waiting for you to relax so they could scare you. When you noticed nothing was out of the ordinary you felt your heart flutter in your chest, especially when the tag read “to the most special DEA female agent” in Javier’s handwriting.
At first your heart fluttered, thinking that finally someone, Javi, took the time to give a shit. If you were being honest with yourself, you did like Javier Peña. He was very sexy and attractive. When he wasn’t being an asshole, he was truly sensitive and understood the female sex with their emotions. You thought that he didn’t care anymore about you, but the longer you looked at the name tag on your gift, the more you thought that maybe you were wrong at your assessment. Your heart raced and you felt the heat creep up your neck at the thought that maybe Javi did see you as something more than just an individual who worked with him each day. But when you opened the basket and saw the gift that was laying there for you, your wonder turned into embarrassment as your face fell. Then when you read the note inside you saw red with anger. That bastard took it one step too far this time.
Once Javi heard your voice he suddenly froze, slowly listening to where you were coming from. When he realized that you were getting closer, he glanced over at Murphy with wide, scared eyes. He mouthed “shh, shut the fuck up,” when Steve went to open his mouth to ask Javi something.
As Steve stood there he was trying to understand what the hell his partner had done to anger you so much. He mouthed to Javi ‘what the fuck did you do man?’ Javi just shook his head and placed his finger to his lips to silence Steve’s further questioning. He wasn’t trying to be a coward, but with how angry you were right now, he didn’t want to come face to face with you. Yes, Javi had a knack for pissing you off so much that you’d threaten to kill him. But from how angry you sounded, he figured that if he was standing in front of you right now, that you would in fact shoot him dead.
Javi and Steve continued to stand in silence together for a few minutes. Javi was hoping that you would just continue down the hallway and not stop outside of this door. For a moment it sounded like you had moved on, so much so that Javi felt himself visibly relax and let out a sigh. But that moment was short lived. When Javi heard the door knob turn he quickly said, “shit Murph, lie,” and then he ducked behind one of the filing cabinets against the wall.
“What the-” Steve said, looking confused, but for only a minute as you quickly came bursting through the door seething with anger.
“Murphy, where is he?” you said, steam practically coming out of your ears at how mad and pissed off you were at Javier Peña.
“I don’t-”
“Don’t give me that I don’t know shit. You two are practically glued together at the hip, so where the hell is he?” You bit back, standing right in front of Steve’s face.
“Woah, now wait just a second there princess, don’t be biting my head off. I don’t know where he is, or what he’s done, but you can just curb that attitude of yours and-”
“Don’t act like you don’t know what he’s done. This smells like both Peña and Murphy antics to me,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest.
“Well sorry cariño, I don’t know where he is or what he’s done.”
Huffing, you let out another long sigh, balling your fists up and slamming them tight against your side. “This is what he’s done,” you said, shoving the box you were holding with the card in his face. “And if you happen to see him, you can tell him that I’m looking for him.”
You went to leave, but Murphy blocked your exit saying, “wait a second here princess, don’t go and give me something like this and then take off. Let’s see what’s gotten your panties in a twist.”
“I knew it, it was your idea. I don’t get why you both have to always be so-” But before you could finish Steve had opened the box and saw what was inside it. Steve pulled out a pair of black lace panties that had a vibrator attached to them, and as he did he noticed the note at the bottom of the box. The note was written in Javi’s handwriting and said, “for all those lonely nights baby, when you’re so wound up and don’t have a man that can be inside you. Enjoy.” Signed, Javier Peña.
Murphy was shocked at what he saw and couldn’t help but laugh out loud. He knew Javi loved to rile you up, and he had to hand it to his partner, he definitely got you going. It was the perfect gift to get even for all those irritating moments the three of you had. But when he looked up at you he immediately froze, his laugh dying out in his throat. Your eyes were red and puffy now as frustrated tears streamed down your face. Steve could tell that the jokes maybe went a little too far this time.
“Sweetheart, we’re-”
“Don’t, just don’t Steve,” you said, grabbing the box and throwing everything back inside, not wanting to look up at him. “I get it, it’s a joke. A really fucking mean joke, ya know. You all can have any woman that you want. And here I am, in Columbia, and I can’t even get sleazy drug lords to choose me when I’m undercover. Shit, I couldn’t even keep my ex-fiance faithful on this day. You guys will find this hilarious, last year I found my ex fucking my sister. Apparently he never wanted me, wanted her cause now they’re getting married and having a baby and I’m not welcome around my family any more, cause I guess I can’t keep anyone happy. So nice of you to give the other girls flowers, and tell them how great they are when they don’t even fucking do anything for you. Meanwhile I have five bullet wounds and several cracked ribs for covering your asses. By the way, you guys are getting a raise in pay and I’m getting a 5 dollar reduction in pay. Apparently the superiors feel that it’ll give you guys motivation or something. So yeah, you’re right, perfect joke. Happy fucking Valentine’s Day to me.” And with that you left, slamming the door.
This was a joke that Peña and Murphy started with you about six months ago when you were placed undercover to go and try to extract information of the whereabouts of Pablo Escobar. They placed you at a brothel, knowing that some of Pablo’s higher up men were going to come to choose women to give them sexual favors for the night. With the help of a few informants, they had dressed you up and gave you pointers on how women acted in these places in Colombia. Javi had made a joke at you that you were the highest paid prostitute on the street, but when it came time for Pablo’s men to take you, you were the only one left behind. You weren’t ugly, you actually were quite beautiful, but that night Javi and Murphy had a hay day with you, as you were the only one that was not chosen. To make matters worse, you had gone out with them that night and couldn’t even get a guy to buy you a drink at the bar, let alone talk with you. And now the joke, you thought, had gone too far. Humiliated and embarrassed, you went and gathered your things and left to go home for the day, not wanting to see anyone again.
After you stormed out, and Murphy knew you were gone, he walked over to where Javi was, facing the back wall. “You got her vibrating panties?” Steve said, shaking his head and laughing.
“At the time, I thought it was a good idea. But something got lost in translation I suppose,” he said, still not wanting to leave his hiding spot.
“Peña, let me give you some advice. If you like a girl, don’t get her vibrating panties and then give her a card that says ‘for all those lonely nights when you don’t have a man.’ It just makes you look like an even bigger dick than what you already are.”
“Yeah, I realize that now,” he said, still not coming out of his hiding spot.
“Did ya know any of that other shit she was talking about?” Steve said, pulling a cigarette out and lighting it. Javi shook his head no as he came out of where he was hiding.
“Kinda fucked up if you ask me. Fucking her own sister and then marrying her. Talk about a cold hearted son of a bitch.”
“Yeah, I never knew. Fuck Murph, what do I do?”
“You already know what you gotta do man. Or do I need to call her back in here so she can spell it out for you?”
“Fuck you,” Javi said, walking out the door to go find you. He felt like the biggest dick right now. The gift and note wasn’t a joke from him, and he hated to think that you felt like it was.
Javi eventually learned that you had decided to go home for the day, leaving your work here. “She’s taking a sick day,” is what Maria, the secretary in the front office, had told him. Javi had attempted to get some paperwork done, but he kept thinking about you and how hurt you sounded when talking with Murphy. He didn’t mean for it to come off as a joke, in fact Javi wanted you to have the panties for a good reason, he wanted you to wear them for him.
Javi had been the biggest pain in your ass from the start. He was always coming over to your desk, forcing you to work through his work, making you work in the field with him, etc. To you it felt like he was punishing you for being good at your job. But in reality, he secretly liked you and wanted to be with you. Javi didn’t know why he couldn’t communicate his feelings to you, why he always had to make fun of you or rile you up. “I’m taking a sick day,” Javi told Murphy as he walked towards the door.
Murphy, who was still at his desk, said “Connie said she’s at home now.” Connie was one of your best friends here in Colombia. Being in a foreign country was hard, and making friends was even harder, especially what you did for a job. Your friends back at home disagreed with your career choice of being sent to Colombia, so your entire support structure was no longer there. Connie was one of the nicest women you had met or seen in the longest time. She understood your career choice, and didn’t hold it against you when your plans would change.
Javi had stopped and bought a dozen flowers from a street vendor before he got to your house. When he knocked on the door he softly said, “querida, I’m so sorry. Please open up, I didn’t mean to make you cry, I-”
“Who the fuck said you made me cry Peña?” you said, opening up the door suddenly, looking up at him with bloodshot eyes, tears at your lash line.
“No one I, Jesus woman, c’mere,” he said, stepping inside and placing the flowers on the end table by the door when he saw your face. He then reached for you, pulled you tight into his chest, holding you as the dam opened up again and the tears fell. “I’m so sorry baby, so sorry. I didn’t mean how it came out, fuck-”
“What did I do for you to hate me?” you said, voice muffled in his chest.
“Nothin’ baby, I don’t hate you, I-” he said, rubbing his hand up and down your back, trying to soothe you. This was not going the way that he had hoped.
“I mean, I pull extra duty, and am one of the strongest hitters on the team. Fuck Javi, I even have brought in more leads than Murphy and yet you publicly humiliate me.” You said, as a sob broke free from your mouth. You didn’t know why you were opening up, allowing Javi to attempt to soothe you. You just didn’t have it in you to fight right now, too emotionally worked up to even care.
“No, no, baby. It ain’t like that, look at me,” Javi said, pulling you away from his chest and gently cupping your face with his hands. “Querida, I got them for you and for me, for you to think about me.”
Shaking your head you stepped back and said, “what? Peña, what the fuck are you talking about for you and me? I’m not-”
“Shit, this ain’t coming out the way I wanted it to,” Javi said, pacing back and forth in your living room. Javi was mumbling to himself, unsure of how to deal with the situation and correct it. Not knowing how to place it into words, his feelings, he thought that he could show you. He immediately reached for you and kissed you hard on the lips. Javi, once again, was hoping the kiss would show you that he cared, but all you read was he was being condescending once again. You immediately pulled back and found your strength and slapped Javi hard across his face.
“Javi, what the fuck do you think you’re doing? Just because I’m crying, trying to understand why the guy I have a crush on hates me, doesn’t give you the right to-”
“I like you,” he said, rubbing the sting site he felt across his cheek. Damn that woman could hit hard, he thought to himself. You continued to talk overtop of him, not realizing what he just said. You kept saying how much of an asshole he’s been to you and how much you hate men as you’ve always been taken advantage of. Javi shook his head at you, hearing words such as dickhead, asshole along with other words such as, pendejo and cabrón. You kept telling him off, not listening to anything that he had just told you.
With a sarcastic laugh, he said, “I can’t fucking believe you, you don’t listen baby.” He was now getting just as frustrated at you for not listening to him. She says I don’t listen, hell, she doesn’t listen.
All you heard was ‘I can’t fucking believe you’ and nothing else. Once again, you marched over to smack Javi hard across the face. But this time, he caught your hand mid-air saying, “I don’t think so cariño. You only get one free hit, and you already used it up for today.”
The sadness that you felt earlier had now turned into blinding anger and rage. You started fighting back. You were done with men treating you like assholes, for cheating on you with your sister, for not listening to you or even attempt at paying attention. You started hitting Javi’s chest, yelling at him and saying, “you’re an asshole,” over and over again. You were throwing a temper tantrum, frustrated about the last few days, and Javi was your outlet. However, Javi didn’t see your attitude nor behavior as enduring or even cute. Him, having about enough of you using him as a physical punching bag, decided to take matters into his own hands to calm you down. He grabbed your hand and threw it behind your back, slamming you to the ground while yelling, “Enough.”
You kept trying to kick him, to hurt him more. You weren’t part of this planet anymore, you just saw red at reliving every shitty moment for the last six years. Of taking the smacks to the face your boyfriend gave you when he was drunk and you questioned why he had red lipstick stains on his shirt and around his cock as you undressed him from a night out with his friends. What you didn’t know is that it was your sister’s lips that were around him, and not some other woman. It didn’t make those moments easier, but you always thought that maybe it was just a one night stand, not a five year long relationship behind your back.
You kept kicking Javi, yelling that you were done with people hurting you, clearly not seeing him anymore. To help calm you down, Javi maneuvered his body so he was sitting on your ass, with your arm behind your back. Your chest was laying flat on the floor, his chest then tight on your back as he snarled in your ear, “you’re gonna stop this shit, right now, stop trying to hit me.”
“Fuck you David-” you said, not realizing that you called him your ex.
“I’m not him baby. I never was, nor will I ever be him. So stop calling me David, my name isn’t fucking David.” Javi growled in your ear, leaning harder into you to get you to calm down.
You finally relaxed at hearing Javi speak to you, reminding yourself that he wasn’t your ex. As soon as you relaxed Javi released your arm, but stayed firm against you, hands on both sides of your head as he breathed hard and fast at the fight that you gave him. It was then that you remembered everything that Javi and you were, everything that you were alone.
Sometimes at night when you couldn’t sleep you’d go back into work and find Javi working alone at his desk. He’d always come over and ask you why you were showing up at work around midnight on a day where you just placed in 12 hours. Alone the two of you would always find moments where you could be soft with each other. He’d order you both greasy pizza to eat at night and he’d tease you of picking off all the pepperoni. Nights where you were scared to be home alone, he’d take you back to his house and you’d sleep in his bed when he slept on the couch. When you got shot several times, after you were discharged home, he’d stay with you in your apartment. He even slept next to you on your bed a few times.
He also bathed you when you got sick with a fever from the infection of the bullet wounds, and nursed you back to health for several weeks. If you were being honest, Javi was your best friend when the two of you were alone. But at work, he was the biggest dickhead. You were jealous when he started flirting with the new secretary that came in, Phillis, and hated when you saw him at the brothel down the street. Javi never attempted sex with you, and honestly, it upset you. You wanted him, but apparently he never wanted you. So at work you took out your frustration the only way you knew how, you became a pain in his ass like he was a pain in yours.
But when Javi didn’t move, continuing to breathe hard in and out, you knew that something had changed. You went to move your ass and immediately he hissed “don’t” as his hips stayed tight against yours, not moving nor letting you up. After a moment of submitting to him you heard him ask in a strained voice “are you calm enough for me to move or do we have to keep you like this for a little longer?”
You didn’t know why you felt like saying it out loud, but you didn’t want to play this game of not being honest with him anymore. “I’ve calmed down, but Javi, I’d like it if you stay like this for a little while, hell you can even push deeper into me if you want.” You gave Javi a little wiggle of your ass at his statement.
The air around the two of you changed, thickening with sexual tension. “Shit baby, ya can’t say that to me,'' he said, slightly leaning forward and pushing his crotch tighter to your ass. You felt him slightly rock back and forth, groaning at the feel of you beneath him.
“Fuck baby,” he said, grinding against your ass with a little bit more force. “Do you feel that? See, that’s what you fucking do to me woman.” Javi was now rocking harder into you, giving you slow deep thrusts. You could feel his hard outline in his pants as he was seated firmly against you. “This is what you’ve always done to me. I don’t hate you, fuck baby, I like you. I want you. So if you’ll shut up long enough, then maybe you’ll hear me say it.”
You slightly arched your back, pushing up so he could kiss your neck. When you changed the position both of you moaned loud in unison, feeling his hips slowly grind harder into you. You never remembered feeling this good by just letting a man grind into you, but fuck, Javi was slowly making you feel feral.
“Javi, I don’t-” you said slowly.
“No,” He growled, not wanting you to tell him to stop. He couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t hold back. He wanted so desperately to be deep inside of your warm cunt that he was struggling right now to keep his composure. “Fuck hermosa, feel what you do to me.”
But you were, you felt how much Javi wanted you and you knew how much you wanted him. You laid there and let him slowly grind his hips into you again until something snapped inside.
“Javi, fuck me,” you said, pushing your ass harded back into him.
Javi immediately stilled his hips at your statement, looking down at you, trying to determine if what you were asking was what he thought. When he didn’t respond again, you said with a little more bite, “Javi, you gave me a vibrator for all those lonely nights when I don’t have a man’s dick inside of me. Please, I don’t want to use the vibrator tonight. For once on Valentine’s Day I want a man inside me that fucking cares. If you really care, please give me that.”
You felt Javi get off from you and walk away, towards the door, rustling around with something. You laid face down in the middle of your living room, tears welling up in your eyes at being rejected once again. You hated this fucking holiday, but when you let out a little sniffle you felt his hand cup your chin, turning you to the side. With the softest eyes possible he said, “come on now, no more crying. Now up you go,” as he helped you stand. Once you were standing he smiled down at you and then gave you a slow tender kiss on the lips. When he pulled back he held out the black lace panties in front of your face.
“Here, I bought these for you. Now, go and put them on, and let me see them on you. Then I’m gonna fuck you like you deserve, like a man that’s wanted to be with you from the moment he laid eyes on you. Fuck what you stupid ex did to you last year-”
“And every year before,” you said softly.
Javi’s eyes got impossibly dark, anger and lust mixing with them. He hated your ex, the man that broke you. If Javi had to spend the rest of his life showing you that you deserved more, then he would do it. Fuck his superiors, or anyone else that thought he and you shouldn’t be together.
“The fact that you say that makes me angry that any man would ever-”
“Forget it Javi, it’s-”
“No. Now pay attention sweetheart, cause I’m only gonna say it once. No man should ever make you feel like this, ever, you hear me? Now, go put them on baby, and let me see you in them. Then, I’m gonna take you to bed and show you how a man is supposed to treat the woman he cares about.”
“Oh, and how’s that Peña, what are you gonna do that makes me forget all the stupid shit other men have done?” You said, playfully nudging Javi and his cockiness that you have found you love.
Javi grabbed you by the hair and tilted your head back while whispering above you, “I’m gonna fuck you so good that you’re gonna forget every man before me, baby. Then I’m gonna show you how a real man treats the woman he’s crazy over. It’s just you and me, and I’ll remind you of that every night before we go to sleep. There’s no one’s pussy I’d rather be buried in than yours. I only want to be balls deep in you, and not anyone else.” Javi then slammed his lips onto yours and gave you a kiss like you deserved.
Maybe you had to have David be in your life and screw you over, because without him, you’d never have met Javier Peña. Javi was a real man that made good on his promises, of being the man that you needed. Before the night was over, and after you came down from your intense rough sex with him, you found yourself looking into his eyes and seeing the potential for a future once again. As Javi slowly rocked into you, making slow love at the end, he whispered, “you’re mine cariño, and I’m never letting you go.” And that was the thing that tipped you both over the edge, moaning each other’s names and kissing each other like you both had just found your future soulmate.
Javi did make good on his promises, he never let you go.
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal character fanfic#pedro pascal characters#javier pena fanfiction#javier peña#javier pena x reader#javier pena#javier pena x you#javier pena narcos#narcos smut#steve murphy#javi x f!reader#narcos#javi peña#javi pena#javi pena smut#javier pena fanfic#javi pena x reader#javi pena x you#tlou fanfiction#tlou2
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you’re embarrassing me * ls2
it's never fun feeling like an outsider, so you'd sworn that nobody would ever feel the way you did all those years ago
pairings: logan sargeant x platonic fem!driver
notes: inthaf logan and femdriver live in my mind rent free like i love them and they are absolute best friends, your honour!!!
i might be at work today but you can’t stop me from thinking of logan hunter sargeant
| "wanna hang out?" | driver's parade | american burgers | american football | the thanksgiving incident | another williams adoptee | beating the heat | you’re embarrassing me | santa baby | the favourite driver | the situationship | it's nice to have a friend |
“happy birthday!” logan smiles, extending his arm to you. “sorry i’m late — i had to get benny to wrap your present.”
you look up from your spot at the other end of the table. you smile, putting your phone down. “oh, i was just about to ask you where you were. thanks for even bothering to get me something!”
you hop up from your position and push yourself through the rows of seats that are strewn lazily. “thank you.”
“of course,” logan smiles, wrapping his arms around you. he presses a kiss to your “happy birthday again. thanks for inviting me to dinner.”
“it wouldn’t be complete with you,” you giggle, pulling away.
it wasn’t until you turned back around to the table that you noticed that your friends were staring at you. alex’s jaw is dropped and george looks absolutely gutted. in the corner, lily and carmen are giggling to themselves while lando had his camera up and pointed at you.
“what?” you ask, scoffing slightly at the camera flash that goes off.
alex’s arm comes out to grab george’s shoulder. “she hugged him.”
you raise an eyebrow. “yeah, so?”
“you never let us hug you,” george says slowly, eyebrows furrowed in frustration at you being oblivious. “you damn near killed me the last time i tried to hug you!”
“yeah?” you hum, grabbing logan’s wrist to drag him along with you. “you sit with me.”
“what?” alex scoffs. “i’m sitting next to you.”
“not anymore. i’ve got a new favourite williams driver,” you beam, shaking his seat to get him off the chair. “and anyway, i already told you logan’s sitting next to me. you’d have bullied him all night if i don’t stop you.”
“and i told you first come first serve!”
“who’s the birthday girl? me or you?” you drop logan’s arm and put your hands on your hips. “who?”
alex starts to act flustered, slumping his shoulder and grabbing his cheeks with a smile. “you’re saying i can be birthday girl today? you serious?”
“ah, piss off!” you groan, shaking his seat again. when the thai doesn’t budge, you look over his head. “lily! alex is being an ass again.”
“alex.”
“yeah, okay. fine,” alex sighs in defeat, pushing himself off the seat. he turns to you. “you get a pass today because it’s your birthday. this won’t happen again, bro.”
logan giggles as he takes the seat previously occupied by his teammate. “what dish did you get? do you have a birthday cake?”
“no, we were waiting for you, silly!” you laugh and pick up the menu from the table and lean into him. “we also just arrived not too long ago. because somebody-“
“hey! it’s not my fault the uber cancelled on us!” george screams from your other side, reaching forward to hit you on the shoulder. “it’s not my fault!”
“it is,” alex sighs, shaking his head. he looks at logan. “this idiot forgot to tell us he booked a taxi — i was fresh out of the damn shower!”
“no, it was her fault!” george fights back, pointing at you.
at that point of the argument, you’d already drowned them out while you looked at the menu for something to order. you simply look up and press your lips together. “are we ordering cake?”
“absolutely! it’s a birthday, duh?” alex scoffs. “anyway, let’s take a picture so you can post it on your instagram about how great friends we were to you.”
you stare at alex. “sure. if you say so.”
you turn as lando gets up to ask someone to take a picture. “wait, your hair is messy,” you grumble, instinctively reaching out to fix logan’s hair. “how benny let you leave looking like this, i’ll never know.”
“what?” you hear logan mutter, pulling his head back slightly. “i did my hair. you don’t like it?”
“what?” you go up an octave as you try to laugh it off, retracting your hands. “no, it looks good.”
“but you said-“
“oh, look! lando’s found someone to take a picture,” you point over at the man holding lando’s camera. you dust off logan’s shirt and straighten it slightly. “look good — i’m announcing to the public that i’ve adopted you as my grid kid.”
“he’s turning 23 this year, you know that, right?”
“shut up, alex.”
#logan sargeant#logan sargeant x reader#logan sargeant x you#fem!driver#f1 female driver#f1 x you#disneyprincemuke#disneyprincemuke imagine#disneyprincemuke imagines#disneyprincemuke f1#disneyprincemuke inthaf#logan sargeant platonic#disneyprincemuke 3k celly
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If you won't do it, I will.
pairing: spencer reid x reader
summary: you were so engrossed with images of you kissing Reid and him kissing you back that you forgot one detail—the man could wake up at any moment without you noticing. and he did wake up. You just failed to notice, too busy ogling his pink lips.
genre: fluff & angst
word count: 3.7k
author's notes: another tooth-rotting spencer reid fluff because i said so! you can listen to watch you sleep by girl in red & out of my league by fitz and the tantrums while reading this because those were the songs i listened to while writing this and i think they fit really well with this fic. also posted on ao3 (spencereids).
THAT DARN SUNLIGHT, YOU SHOULD GET YOUR BLINDS FIXED WHEN YOU’RE FREE—THEN IT HITS YOU. You just got it fixed about two weeks ago. You are definitely not in your room.
Scrambling to get up, you were about to jump off whichever bed you ended up in last night when you felt a warm, lithe arm tucked underneath yours, clasping you in a soft embrace like a lover. Now that you think about it, you could feel this person’s hair tickling your chin and their warm breath against your neck.
This is seriously freaking you out. You have no idea who you are cuddling with. Jesus Christ, how many shots did you drink last night? Why would the team let you go home drunk with some guy?
Gently, you removed the arm wrapped around your waist and slowly pushed away the brunette positioned snugly between your head and shoulder. No way.
The person you are cuddling with is none other than your genius coworker.
Dr. Spencer Reid.
Like any other normal person would do—no person in their right mind would sleep with their coworkers, literally and figuratively—you checked yourself for any presence of clothing. Thank God, you did not completely lose your mind last night and slept with Reid. But it still doesn’t explain why you were wearing his faded Star Trek shirt and one of his pajama pants.
Fucking hell, did he change your clothes for you? You were ready to catch the next plane and disappear at this point.
You were about to start berating yourself for getting into this mess when you noticed how the sunlight made the man beside you look more angelic than usual.
The sun seemed to caress every freckle on his face, the slight pink tinge from the cold morning air, and his hair—although unruly from the tossing and turning during the night—could pass for that of a shampoo model. Pretty.
And his lips.
They looked even more inviting right now, pink and full and parted slightly, as he breathed in and out small puffs of air, finally sleeping soundly following a week of sleepless nights tracking down an unsub. You roamed your eyes once more on his face, starting from his hair and down to where his upper body was covered by an old shirt and the blanket you shared—forgetting your initial dilemma as to how you ended up in bed with your coworker (whom you have a big crush on).
Thank goodness you did not have sex with the one guy you were practically in love with for years. It would be nice to remember every detail of that rendezvous—if that ever happens. You groaned inwardly. This is not the time to fantasize about your coworker, Y/N! You need to get out of bed and out of his house.
But a part of you longs to keep pretending that this is real. That sleeping next to—cuddling, let us be honest—Reid is a usual occurrence. Pursing your lips, you closed your eyes and willed yourself to go back to sleep. Let the future version of you worry about how you will handle waking next to your coworker. Except you could not.
You wished you could tattoo what Reid looked like in the early morning light when he was asleep and without that crease between his brows that seemed to be etched permanently from all the stress of chasing unsubs around the country.
You gotta admit, some days, you yearned for Reid’s eidetic memory. You wished you could have memories of him engraved in your brain that no matter what you do, you could not help it. He would be there. A persistent thought. But then again, you were in too deep with your feelings for the man that you think, even without an eidetic memory, you could definitely recount all your favorite memories with him in a heartbeat.
So, you chose to stay awake.
This is not looking good for you. How else would you explain to someone—your coworker, of all people—who just woke up why you were staring at them while they slept. God, you are down horrendously.
He looked so peaceful like this. Pink cheeks, freckles, and messy hair. He looked so adorable you wished you could pepper his face with kisses and bury your face in his chest. And he is snoring lightly. He is endearing.
You are never getting another chance like this. This will not hurt anyone, right?
Hence, you took in every tiny detail, every freckle, every mole, and every scar you could see. You committed to memory every inch of skin your eyes could reach before the man beside you woke up. You tried to learn by heart what this man looks like when he is untroubled and at peace—what he looks like in the eyes of his future lover when they wake up next to him because that would never be you.
It would never be you.
And that could happen any day now. Reid was bound to find someone who would love him. He was the easiest person to love. He was not a prince charming nor the male lead of a romance novel kind of guy, But he has this boyish charm.
Let us be real. Reid was probably the most uncoordinated guy alive and the most socially awkward person ever. But you were taken by him. The moment he started spewing facts and statistics about anything and everything under the sun, you were done for.
He could talk to you about why worms were called worms and the probability of people dying on their birthdays. And you would listen to him willingly. You were that taken by him. Not to mention, it does not help your case that Reid was probably the prettiest person alive. Well, not literally, but he was that close to being the prettiest person—in your opinion of course.
He had messy, brown curls that looked like they barely experienced the touch of a comb, but you knew they were soft. You knew because every time Reid did something endearing—everything he did was endearing, for you—you always ruffled his hair. This would make him grumble about how he had to fix it again and to which you would reply with a cheeky, You know what a comb is? And Reid would roll his eyes at you.
He had hazel eyes that reminded you of a puppy dog. They were mostly brown with a tinge of green. Most days, it reminded you of being cozy, drinking hot chocolate by the fire. They looked like you were coming home. They always looked like they were pleading for you to stare at them. And you admit you have lost count of the many times Reid had to flick his fingers in front of you with a matching Earth to Y/N and a mini history lesson starting with a Did you know that the history behind that phrase comes from science fiction movies showing people on earth sending messages to people in space?
And Reid always wore the fluffiest cardigans and sweater vests, reminding you of your teddy bear collection at your childhood home. It was crazy how if you saw anyone else in the law enforcement track having the same fashion sense as Reid, you would probably think of them as ridiculous. He wore a pair of black converse sneakers, among other things. For heaven’s sake! Come on! You have to go after seasoned criminals—you at least have to look the part. Right? You have to look imposing and menacing to intimidate them in interrogation rooms. However, the teddy bear look—as you’d like to call it—works so well for Reid.
What is more, is that Reid fits your ideal type. He is probably the poster boy for it. Ever since you were never into the macho guys and their big muscles. No offense to them because those are their bodies. They look good, but you like your men a little scrawny. You liked lean and really tall men. And Reid is definitely that. He may have failed his fitness test a gazillion times, but the man was in no way, shape, or form, unhealthy. He had the right muscles at the right places and besides, he literally goes after serial killers. He is fit alright.
Lost in your thoughts, you were damn near ogling the man beside you and ended up looking fixedly at his lips. You always thought he had kissable lips, minus the fact that it is probably because you were practically in love with the guy.
You wanted to kiss him so bad it is killing you right now. But in your good conscience, you couldn’t and you wouldn’t. You were completely aware of Reid being a germaphobe, and he has mentioned countless times, kissing is more hygienic than shaking another person’s hand, kissing a sleeping person was out of the books for you. One, the person couldn’t consent because they were unconscious. Two, you were not his lover. Kissing him while he was asleep would be a violation to him. Not to mention, unwelcomed and creepy as hell. Imagine waking up and someone has their lips slobbering your face. Icky!
You were so engrossed with images of you kissing Reid and him kissing you back that you forgot one detail—the man could wake up at any moment without you noticing.
And he did wake up. You just failed to notice, too busy ogling his pink lips.
“If you won’t do it, I will.”
You froze in place.
Like a deer caught in the headlights, you rushed to leap out of Reid’s bed—almost toppling over on the floor in an unladylike fashion. You probably would look worse than Reid when he was huffing and puffing during his last fitness test mandated by the bureau.
But before you could jump out and run away from the man beside you, Reid had all but effortlessly pulled you towards him. You ended up burying yourself into his chest face first as you clutched his shirt to break the fall. It is not even 8 am in the morning yet, and you have managed to embarrass yourself enough for your parents to cut off all ties with you. You would rather dig yourself a hole to die in than be here.
Knowing you have nowhere else to escape, you believe it was time to lie on the bed you made. Sluggishly, you pulled your face away from the lean chest you descended on and peeped up at the angelic face you’d been staring at for the past hour with a sheepish smile.
“H-hi, Reid!”
This is just pure torture. Reid probably knew why you looked like an actual tomato with how red you are, at this moment. He is smiling at you like a cat who ate the canary as he suppressed a laugh.
“I didn’t know you had a clumsy side to you, Y/L/N,” Reid snickered.
What?
“What?” You frowned, which made Reid chuckle some more, shaking his head.
“Nothing,” you scrunch your brows as you tilt your head in confusion, “You just seem so formidable on the field and interrogation room. I’d hate to be the one you’re tracking down,” Reid responded.
“Oh, um,” you grinned as you thought of the perfect rib for the man in front of you, “Just because I’m an FBI agent doesn’t mean I can’t be uncoordinated every now and then. I mean, I know plenty of agents who are quite the klutz on the daily,” you peered at him while he gawps in protest.
“Hey!” He argued, scowling at you.
God, he’s endearing.
“I didn’t mention any names,” you chortled, raising your hand in defense, which made him roll his eyes.
You cracked up at his juvenile actions. In turn, Reid smiled in amusement.
God, you can’t believe that you’re laying on a bed beside Reid. With Reid—like it’s an everyday thing. The smiles. The banter. The laughter. This is crazy. You could get used to this. Sleeping next to him and not just next to him—like the ones you have during your cases where you get to be roommates. No, sleeping on one bed, next to each other. Waking up next to each other. Hearing his gruff morning voice.
You could get used to this.
You can’t.
You shouldn’t.
Reid is your friend. A coworker. You shouldn’t be fantasizing about sleeping and waking up next to him, that is unprofessional. Not to mention, you would be breaking one of the golden rules of the bureau. Never fraternize with a fellow agent on the same unit.
Seemingly lost in thought, you retreated from the man beside you, as you grimaced.
“Y/N? What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing, Reid,” you smiled glumly, “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” you patted his cheek gently.
“Is this about you waking up in my bed? I swear no—”
“I know, Reid,” you sighed, “You would never hurt me. I was drunk last night. I’m sure you brought me here because you were too tired to take me home. We just got back from a case and I shouldn’t have drank a lot of shots after all the sleepless nights,” you were slowly sitting up now, “But thank you, Reid. Thank you for taking care of me.”
“Always, Y/N.”
This made you smile.
Trust Reid to always make your heart flutter at the tiniest gestures. He’s probably the most genuine and compassionate person you know. It breaks your heart every time you remember that his actions might make you feel butterflies in your stomach, but he does them not because he sees you romantically—he just does them because that is just how he is—caring.
“I’m gonna get up now,” you muttered.
“So, that’s it?”
This made you pause.
“What do you mean?” You looked at him, to which he scoffed.
“You know what I mean, Y/N.”
“No, I really don’t, Reid,” you scowled, growing irritated at this whole situation, his riddles, and him, for being so perfect, “So, you better tell me because you scoffing at me is slowly infuriating me.”
“You spent an hour, eighteen minutes, and thirty-eight seconds watching me sleep,” Reid shared as matter-of-factly, as if to say "You aren’t slick, Y/N, " which made you sputter in indignation. At this rate, you wouldn’t be surprised if Reid would be considered by the Guinness World Records as the first omniscient person on earth with his brilliant mind. The man has an IQ of 187 for Pete’s sake!
“If that doesn’t tell you anything, then I don’t know what will,” he finished.
“First of all,” you started, “I did not watch you sleep.”
This made the man raise one brow at you. Liar.
“Second of all, if I did watch you sleep and you felt it,” you continued pointedly as if to tell Reid you weren’t watching him sleep. “Shouldn’t you have called me out on it? Why did you let me be then?”
“I don’t know. Okay?”
“What do you mean you don’t know?” You pushed, crossing your arms.
“I woke up just a few minutes after I felt your stare,” Reid began rambling, “Did you know the reason why we feel someone is looking directly at us is that we have this system called the gaze detection system? I woke up a few minutes after I felt you staring.”
You smiled fondly at the man prattling facts from the back of his brain. This was your favorite version of Reid. The one who knows anything and everything under the sun and can probably talk about them if you asked him to. But right now, you have had enough of that. You won’t allow him to distract his adorable babbling from knowing why he let you stare at him.
Maybe he shares the same feelings with you.
“Reid,” you exhaled, “that still doesn’t explain why you let me watch you sleep.”
This made the man’s cheeks start dusting with pink. You were aware of the fact that it should have been the questioning done the other way around. You literally breached his privacy in his own home but you couldn’t help it. You wanted to know if he feels the same way as you. You wanted to know everything now rather than later. You know you’d probably get rejected but you wanted to get it over with.
“I wanted you to kiss me.”
This made you gasp, eyes widening—you think they were about to come out of their sockets. Reid blushed some more with your shocked expression.
“I didn’t know what to do,” he continued explaining, “so I pretended to be asleep but I wanted you to kiss me. I thought that you would kiss me but you didn’t. So, I waited.” He looked down at his lap and bit his lip.
With your initial shock wearing off, you practically looked like a wild animal pouncing on the bed. Reid yelped at how quick you moved from where you originally stayed put. Without further ado, you reached for him. Thumbs caressing his rosy cheeks, you stared at his hazel irises.
“Are you sure about this?” You asked gently, wanting to be sure that he wants this just as much as you do. Before you could say anything else, Reid pressed his lips against yours.
As soon as you felt his lips against yours, your eyes closed. His lips were warm and soft—a little chapped but you didn’t mind. It feels perfect against yours. You didn’t want this to end but you want to see him—feel more of him. So, you did. You buried one of your hands in his curls as you caressed his chiseled jaw. Warmth blossomed in your chest as you realized you were kissing the guy you’d been pining for years and he is kissing you back.
You could taste your shared breath and feel the flutter of his long lashes against your cheeks. He tilted his head slightly in the opposite direction and nudged his nose against yours as your lips parted slightly, allowing him to slip his tongue inside.
You wanted to open your eyes. You wanted to see the faint constellations on his face, admire the slight scrunch of his brows when he’s focused—you had a feeling after this kiss is over, being with him won’t be as easy as it was before. You would be ruined knowing what it was like to kiss him. But you were so tired of longing for him. And his mouth was the softest mouth you have ever kissed. And nobody has ever kissed you like this before—loving and warm.
You didn’t stop kissing Reid until you felt like you were running out of air from running. So, you held his shoulders and distanced your face from his. He tried chasing your lips but you dodged him. Instead, you looked down at your lap. You felt your tears and willed them to not fall. Not here, not now, not in front of him. You wouldn’t want him to pity you.
“Hey, Y/N,” Reid placed his warm hand against yours, “What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong?” His thumb caressed your hand soothingly.
“That’s the thing, Reid,” you explained, looking up at him right now as he flinched, noting the tears glistening in your eyes, “Nothing’s wrong. The kiss was perfect. You’re perfect.” You could see his shoulders sagging in relief after what you said. “And because of that, I can’t just pretend that what happened was normal because it isn’t. I know it won’t happen again so I can’t get used to it. And you know I’m not the type to kiss someone unless they mean that much to me.”
You were about to explain some more when you felt Reid pull you. You gulped when you felt the tickle of his breath in the junction of your neck and shoulder. “I really like you, Y/N. If it isn’t obvious,” Reid muttered shyly, “I’ve liked you for quite some time now.”
“Oh.”
If this was difficult for you, it was difficult for Reid as well—if not more—to be vulnerable about his feelings. You knew about how difficult it was for him growing up, being the only twelve-year-old prodigy in a public high school. He’s been through so much with his dad leaving and having to take care of his mom. He’s never had a proper experience with just about everything from making friends, being a normal kid, and in this case, harboring romantic feelings for someone—you.
So, you did what you thought could convey that the feeling was mutual. You gently wrapped your arms around him and nuzzled your face into his brown locks. He smelled of crisp pages of a book with a hint of pine. If you thought your favorite version of Reid was him rambling about facts and statistics, you’re probably going to give that version a run for his money. Because this version of Spencer Reid right here—the one who chose to be vulnerable, the one who chose to open up to you not knowing if the feeling was mutual—is probably your new favorite version of him.
“If it isn’t obvious to you, Dr. Reid,” you began, “I’ve liked you for quite some time now too.”
With that, you pulled him away from being tucked into your neck and kissed him again. You felt him grin widely, as you showered his pretty face with pecks, and you could not be happier. Before you could shower him with more kisses, Reid started spouting statistics about office romances.
“One in ten heterosexual couples in the United States meet at work.”
“Lucky for us,” you said as you tried to bury your nose in Reid’s neck, which made him giggle. "We are that one couple in the BAU. Now, shut up, so I can kiss you some more.”
This made Reid guffaw.
You couldn’t be happier waking up next to your coworker.
#criminal minds#criminal minds series#criminal minds fandom#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fic#spencer reid#dr. spencer reid#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fandom#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid angst#spencer reid smut#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x you#spencer reid imagine#tooth rotting fluff#light angst#angst with a happy ending#love confessions#idiots in love#the bau#aaron hotchner#derek morgan#jennifer jareau#emily prentiss#penelope garcia#david rossi
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Memories | D. Ricciardo
Summary: Daniel's return to RedBull is not just a return to the team, it's a return to you but it just might be too late for that.
Based on the song Memories by Conan Gray
Warnings: angst, fluff, coarse language
Word Count: 2.9k+
Note: this is a repost of a one shot from my old account. Felt like I should start with this since Danny’s back on the grid.
The chapter that seemed like it was never ending has finally ended. Daniel is free from McLaren. It wasn't just a team-oh how he wishes it was-it was worse than anything he could've possibly been through.
Or so he thought.
Signing the papers at RedBull to be a third driver wasn't something he thought he'd ever do. But the team treated him better than McLaren ever could. So he was happy. Glad to return to a place where his mental health could be at ease.
That was, until he remembered everything that happened once he left. He remembered how things ended between you and him.
‘It's been a couple of months’
You can't say that you're happy but at least you're better than you were a while ago. When you heard the news of Daniel Ricciardo returning to RedBull, it was an overload of emotions that you kept locked away.
‘That's just about enough time for me to stop crying when I look at all the pictures’
You remember the first day you met Daniel, all those years ago when you joined the team to handle the social media side of it all. You two were well acquainted from the moment you began. He was one of the very few people who personally welcomed you in the team.
Then, you sat right beside him, giving him a little special treatment as you showed him the photos you were planning on posting to the team's socials. It was of him, smiling wide as he always did, while talking to his teammate.
It's been a long time since then, so you never thought you'd be the one posting the photo of him once again clad in a RedBull team shirt.
‘Now I kinda smile, I haven't felt that in a while’
You briefly forgot about his return to the team-well truthfully, you were trying to avoid it as much as you could. You weren't upset that he was returning, you were just trying to wrap your head around the fact that you'd have to see him more often. Hearing his accented voice, laughs, jokes wasn't something you could prepare for.
You could avoid him when he was at McLaren, but you didn't need to as much. Mainly because he never came to the garage just for you.
He was in too deep with the mess at McLaren since day two, and as much as he wanted to, he couldn't make the time out too come see you. You knew parts of what happened at McLaren through Max, because Daniel would always talk to him. It hurt that he didn't come to you. You thought that you would still be the person he'd come to with his problems, not run away from.
Fortunately, you didn't see him at all since the announcement. Well, you were invited at a party where everyone was welcoming him but you didn't go because you weren't feeling well. Which was kind of a lie.
However, you didn't know that Daniel was only excited for the gathering because he wanted to see you. It was selfish, wanting to see you when he was the one who ended things, but if he wasn't selfish now, then he'd lose everything he needed.
Maybe he already did but he didn't want to accept it.
Once he set his mind on something, he would do anything to complete it. And now, he wanted to see you.
‘It's late, I hear the door
Bell ringing, and it's pouring’
You should be asleep by now, it's midnight and you have an early day tomorrow. But you couldn't. You want to believe that it's because you slept in today, but you know deep down that it's not.
It's hard to submit to the silence of the night when you don't want to be lonely. Fighting that thought, you step out in the kitchen to fill a glass of water. But that is long forgotten when you hear a knock on the door. You want to believe that it's just the sound of rain tapping against the wooden door.
You stood there, frozen as you watched the door, knowing that someone was standing on the other side. And you knew who it was, just didn't want to accept it yet.
Then, the doorbell rang, making you flinch as the sound was quite loud compared to the soft patter of the rain against the glass. Taking a deep breath, you decided to feel a bit of pity on the man, knowing him well enough that he didn't bring an umbrella with him.
‘I open up that door, see your brown eyes at the entrance’
As expected, all he had on was a hood that was now soaking wet. His curls laid flat on his forehead, matted due to the rain.
His eyes no longer had the brightness in them that they once did. You felt bad, but didn't say anything.
Daniel felt relief as soon as he saw you. His arms were itching to wrap around you. "Hi" he said, but his voice was rough, as if he didn't say a single word in a long time. Well, he didn't, to you.
You didn't respond. You might've been friends and something more before, but right now you did not want to engage in a normal conversation with him. Nothing in between you two was normal.
‘You just wanna talk, and I can't turn away a wet dog’
You gave in after he asked to come inside a few times. The first few times you denied, but he didn't let up. The only reason you let him in was because it was raining outside, and you didn't want him to get sick.
God, he was so clingy when sick. He would avoid you when he starts to notice that he wasn't feeling the best. But the calls and messages wouldn't stop, in fact, it would increase. Regular messages became phone calls, then video calls because he claimed that he couldn't go a day without seeing your face.
Then, when you would show up with some essentials to help him feel better-because all what he would do is try to sleep it off which never worked-he wouldn't like it at first. You would stand at the door, while he would try to hide the smile growing on his face knowing that you want to take care of him. But maybe you shouldn't have, because not only did you get sick, but you began getting used to being around him.
‘But please, don't ruin this for me
Please, don't make it harder than it already is’
You turned around but his hand instantly caught yours, turning you back around to face him, pulling you towards him. Your other hand landed on his chest to stop you from being fully pressed against him.
You looked up and just for a moment you got lost in his eyes. Being so close felt familiar yet so strange. The memories of all the times you were this close played in your mind like a movie, but that's all it was, memories.
"I'm sorry" he spoke, and perhaps it was the wrong words to start with because you were brought back to the present and immediately moved away from him.
‘I'm trying to get over this
I wish that you would stay in my memories’
"No" you whispered, quiet enough that he didn't hear the first time. "Don't say that" you continued, louder this time.
Tears were stinging your eyes, but you put in all the effort to hold them back. You didn't want to be weak in front of him. You couldn't, not anymore.
He stepped closer to you again, placing his hands on your cheeks, "but it's true. I miss you"
You brought your hands up to his, making him think you're giving in but you tore his hands away from your face. Not wanting his touch.
‘But you show up today just to ruin things’
"How can you miss me if you're the one who walked away?" You asked, not expecting a response so you walked further into your house.
You knew he wouldn't leave, which meant that you could do one of two things; try to sleep while he's in your house, or stay awake and convince him to leave.
You knew you wouldn't be able to sleep, so you decided on the second option. Walking to the kitchen, you took out two bottles of a stronger form of alcohol.
He followed you inside, looking around at the house he's seen plenty of times, still the same. He muttered a "thanks" when you passed him the bottle with little expression on your face.
You sat on the couch while he stood there, watching you. He was in a familiar place, with a familiar person, but it felt so strange. And this was all because of him.
‘I wanna put you in the past 'cause I'm traumatized
But you're not letting me do that 'cause tonight, you're all drunk in my kitchen, curled in a fetal position’
"Why weren't you at the party?" He asked, a simple question that held a stronger meaning behind. "Wasn't feeling well" you simply replied but you knew that he knew it was a lie.
You took a swig of the alcohol, wanting some liquid courage to say what you've been planning to for all this time. "You know, you don't have to come here just because you're joining the team again."
"That's what you think I'm here for?" He asked, incredulously. You looked up at him but quickly broke the eye contact because it became too overbearing, "why else?"
He sat on the couch in front of you, "there used to be a time where you didn't question me even if I came this late"
You scoffed, "why are you acting like I'm the one who ended things when you're the one who woke up one day and decided to act like we were strangers?"
‘Too busy playing the victim to be listening to me when I say 'I wish that you would stay in my memories'
"I wish I didn't" he hung his head low. It was quiet for a few moments but the silence was deafening. "Yeah, I wish you didn't."
‘In my memories, stay in my memories’
You looked around everywhere to avoid his eyes, but his were fixated on you. He still looked at you with that loving emotion, but the only difference was that his eyes also held pain in them. His bubble was bursting, and he didn't know what to do.
Standing up, you placed the empty bottle on the counter and walked towards your room. As expected, he followed.
"You know what, I'm actually glad that you're here. It'll save me a trip." You spoke as you walked to your closet, sorting through the clothes that belonged to him.
Your actions were rough, probably because of the alcohol. You never had the chance to get rid of his stuff. His stupidly expensive clothes that always smelt like him.
One by one, you threw his clothes at him in frustration. He didn't budge, letting his clothes fall to the floor as he watched you. Taking out the last hoodie you had of his, you remembered when he gave it to you.
It was raining, quite like tonight, but the circumstance was very different. That night, you two were completely sober, but drunk off of each other's presence. Walking to his home, both of you were soaking wet.
Daniel gave you a towel, telling you to go take a warm shower while he laid out his clothes for you. He was very tempted to join you, but he chose not to.
His clothes smelt like him, and you were instantly comforted. But now, that scent overwhelmed you, reminded you of what you were and what you could've been.
Throwing that last piece of clothing at him from a closer distance, you began hitting your fists against his chest. "You left me Dan. You fucking left me. God we were doing so well, I was so happy with you. But no, you had to pull some shitty move and ruin it all."
He let you express your frustration until you started crying. Tears were streaming down your cheeks, and he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against him. "I know, baby, I'm sorry"
‘Now I can't say, 'goodbye' if you'll stay here the whole night you see, it's hard to find an end to something that you keep beginning’
He sighed in relief when he felt your arms tightly wrap around his body. He knew he had a lot to work for; your trust, your love, and you. But he would do it. All for you.
‘Over and over again, I promise that the ending always stays the same’
His relief was very brief, because you parted away from him. Not completely because you were still in his grasp, but you were still stiff, letting him know that you were still on the edge.
"I promise I'll fix everything" he spoke, wiping your tears. You began shaking your head, "you can't"
"Give me a chance, my love, yes we can"
‘So there's no good reason in make-believing’
"You're holding on to a dream, Daniel, a memory. I'm trying my best to move on, so please just let me" you pleaded, moving away from him what felt like the millionth time.
‘That we could ever exist again, I can't be your friend, can't be your lover’
"I don't want us to be a memory, that would kill me" he closed his eyes, not wanting to believe that there would be a future without you. "I don't want you to move on, I know you have a little bit of love for me in your heart."
‘Can't be the reason we hold back each other from falling in love with someone other than me’
"Call me selfish but I don't want to see you with someone else." He continued while you were at a loss for words. Daniel held your hands, wanting something, someone-you-to ground him. He longed for your presence, your warmth.
You two stood there in silence, once again. Your heartbeat was pounding in your ears.
Moving your hands out of his grasp, he hung his head low again, thinking that he lost you forever. Instead of walking away like he expected you to, you lifted his head by placing your fingers underneath his chin.
You realized that he was crying. No matter how bad things got, you've never once seen him cry. But that was because he was always happy around you. He never once felt like he did now in front of you.
Even now, his tears weren't because of you, it was because he believe that he failed. He failed because his love wasn't enough for you.
‘Since you came, I'll let you stay’
"You never give up, do you?" You asked, still sniffling. "For you, never"
"You're not going to leave me again right?" As soon as you got the words out, he began shaking his head, "not until I die"
You placed your finger on his lips, not wanting to hear such absurd thoughts, "don't you dare think about dying"
"You can't live without a heart, and the thing is, you own mine" he stated like it was a true fact. To him, you always owned his heart.
"You own mine too, always did, always will" those words made him realize that you didn't want him to leave.
He smiled, through the tears that you wiped away. "Does that mean-" he started but cut himself off when you nodded. "I still hate you for leaving me"
He hugged you, so tightly that it was almost suffocating. But, his love was all you needed to stay alive.
When he parted away from you, he still held on to you, thinking that if he let go, you'll fade away.
"I love you so, so, so much" he expressed, new tears were stinging his eyes. But it was tears of relief.
He didn't know what he'd do if you turned him down. He didn't want to think about it anymore.
"I love you" you smiled for the first time that night, resting your arms around his shoulders.
"Can I kiss you?" He asked, like a school boy asking his crush for the first time ever.
You nodded, and he didn't waste a single second before claiming your lips in a slow, loving kiss. He might've asked like a young school boy but his kiss was nothing like it.
Parting away, you commented on the fact that his clothes were still very much wet, and now yours too because he was still embracing you.
"Go take a shower, or you'll get sick" you instructed. He hesitated at first, and you noticed it. "I'm not going anywhere"
"Promise?"
"I promise"
He pressed another short kiss to your lips before walking towards the bathroom. And you were on your way, making some soup because you knew that he would surely be sick.
And for the first time in a long time, you knew that everything would be alright. Because he was with you.
Your lover, your everything, your Danny.
#f1#f1 fandom#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1blr#formula 1#daniel riccardo x reader#daniel ricciardo#daniel riccardo imagine#dr3#thef1diary fic
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Perfect
Bucky Barnes x Chubby!Reader
Summary: You get insecure about your body. Bucky’s not having that.
Warnings: insecure!reader; body shame; reader is mean to herself (but it’s okay ‘cause our boy makes sure to let her know that her mean thoughts are just bullshit); a tiny bit of angst; Bucky’s just a sweetheart; slightly suggestive at the and (you have to squint though); nothing special just a whole lot of fluff; lmk if I forgot something.
MY BLOG IS +18. MINORS DNI.
WC: 2k
I do not consent to have my fics translated, copied or posted to any other sites/apps. Don’t steal my work.
A/N: this is my first request and I absolutely loved the idea! I hope you like it @chocolateeclairsmoralbackbone <3
If you like my story, please consider reblogging and/or leaving feedback.
Everything started with a simple picture.
Your girlfriends wanted to know about the mysterious guy you’ve been dating for the past year and a half, and you also wanted to tell them, so you all met up for coffee. You didn’t mention the details about who he really is or his past, as he asked you not to, but you told them everything they wanted to know about the relationship – how’d you two met? Is he handsome? How did he ask you out? Are you guys serious? – and the conversation was great.
At some point, one of them suggested you take a picture, since the four of you almost never see each other. You weren’t feeling particularly pretty that day, but you also didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, so you posed for the damn phone.
As you were about to hit the “send” button to show Bucky the picture – ‘cause you two shared photos of everything you did during the day – you hesitated. You couldn’t help but notice how all your other friends looked so much thinner next to you.
I’ll just send the picture later, you thought. Later turned into never.
When Bucky stopped by to pick you up, he instantly noticed your mood, but when he asked, you just shrugged it off.
You’ve never been the “skinny girl,” even when you first met Bucky. But since you started dating him, you did notice a few extra pounds on your body. It became evident as your favorite jeans started feeling snug and some of your old shirts went to the bottom of your wardrobe since they no longer hid the belly that was now more pronounced.
But that picture lingered in the back of your mind, gnawing at your self-esteem and fueling your insecurities. It became a constant reminder of the fact that Bucky, that walking Greek god of a man, could very easily find someone prettier than you.
Your doubts and insecurities grew more and more everyday, causing you to withdraw. You became distant, avoiding Bucky’s touch, covering your body with oversized clothes, never sending him pictures anymore, calling it a night before your kisses and caresses could escalate to a situation where you’d have to be completely exposed to him. None of this went unnoticed by the soldier, but everytime he asked you’d shrug it off as if he was overthinking things.
The breaking point arrived on a particular evening in Louisiana. Sam invited both of you to join his family for lunch, which eventually led to everyone deciding to go for a swim. As you went upstairs to change into your bikini, you found yourself standing in front of the mirror, staring at your reflection for God knows how long. Your eyes trailed up and down your body, those doubts coming to the surface every time you looked at how your thighs glued together, almost like if they were competing for space, or how your stomach was accentuated by the lack of more clothes, or how the fabric of the bikini was so stretched around your curves that it could easily rip. You didn’t even notice the tears streaming down your face until Bucky opened the door, calling for you.
He had noticed something was off a long time ago, but today was even harder for him to let it go. He thought this trip would be good for you, you loved every time he brought you here, but when you barely touched your food and didn’t go play with Sam’s nephews like you always do, he started to worry even more. You, obviously, denied every time he asked if something was wrong. But when you took more than twenty minutes to change into your bikinis, he couldn't take it anymore.
As soon as Bucky opens the door and sees you quickly cover yourself with the beach robe as tears streamed down your face, his heart breaks a little. Coming closer, he asks once again what’s wrong.
“Everything’s fine,” you evade the question one more time, and the way you hunch your shoulders, as if trying to make yourself smaller, makes his chest ache.
His thumbs graze above your cheeks, touching you softly to not startle you. He brushes your tears away, though your eyes remain glossy. Then his fingers trail down your arms until he’s squeezing your elbows, gently coaxing you to let go of the robe and reveal yourself. But you only clutch your fingers tightly to the fabric, denying his silent request.
“You won’t let me see you, doll?” He asks, his voice soft, though you can notice the hurt in his words. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong.” You reply instantly, biting your lower lip.
He calls your name softly, but you don’t answer. You know you and Bucky promised to always tell each other things, but what if you tell him about your insecurities and he agrees with them? What if finally verbalizing your doubts about your body made him realize all of them are true and then he leaves you?
With a mix of uncertainty and concern, he continues. "Is it me? Am I the problem?"
"What?" Your head snaps towards him, surprise evident in your eyes. "No, you're not– what makes you think that?"
"You've been acting distant lately. You won't let me touch you, or see you. You're always sad," he explains, his words pouring out in a rush. "You've barely looked at me or touched your food today. I know you, I can see something's wrong, but every time I ask you don’t tell me anything." His voice quivers with a mix of frustration and hurt. "Do I not make you happy anymore? Do you want to break up with me? Please, tell me something."
His last words strike a chord within you, awakening a pang of guilt and realization. You’re not sure if it is the sadness in his beautiful blue eyes, the pain in his voice or the raw vulnerability he’s displaying, but something tugs at your heartstrings.
"Bucky, you're not the problem, okay?" you assure him, your voice laced with sincerity and frustration. "It's just... hard to explain."
"Then what is it?" he pleads, desperation seeping into his tone as his hold on your elbow becomes a little stronger, like he’s unconsciously clinging to you. "What's wrong, doll? You're my... you're my everything. Just tell me what's wrong so I can fix it."
“You can’t fix it,” you whisper.
"Try me," he replies without hesitation, you don’t know if it’s out of his natural stubbornness or just his current desperation to make you happy again. Maybe both.
You stop for a moment. How do you even begin?
"It's just... my thighs," you finally managed to utter. You huff, frustrated with your struggle to articulate your feelings.
"Your... thighs?" he repeated, confusion clouding his face for a moment. "Is there something wrong with them?"
"Yes, there is, Bucky! There's something wrong with all of me! I’m fat!" you exclaim, in a lack of words to describe your insecurities. You step away from him and squeeze your eyes shut, wishing you could disappear. "And my thighs are so gross, and my stomach, and... ugh!"
His brows furrow, a mix of concern and confusion etched on his face. Is he really hearing what he thinks he's hearing?
Each word escapes your lips with a tinge of sadness and defeat. "You're so handsome, and your body... I just don't understand why you're with me."
For a moment, Bucky stands there, processing your words. Then, without hesitation, he steps closer to you, his touch once again finding its way to your skin, trailing up and down your arms. "Look at me," he pleads gently, his tone laced with kindness. When you don’t comply, he insists, “baby doll, look at me.”
Reluctantly, you open your eyes, meeting his gaze.
His voice is filled with affection as he whispers, “I love you, all of you.”
A wave of memories floods your mind. You remember the countless times you whispered those exact same words to Bucky, showering him with reassurance when he was still self-conscious about his arm and scars and his past. You remember how you whispered sweet nothings into his ear, slowly crushing his insecurities until he began to believe you. And he remembers it all too, now’s his turn to remind you of his love. He places a tender kiss on your forehead, his lips trailing down to your temple and then your cheek, where he kisses the remaining tears away.
"You want to know why I'm with you?" he asks, a serious undertone in his voice, his eyes sparkling with genuine adoration. "Among other things, because you make me happy. Even when I thought there was no more happiness left for me in this world." Then, a playful smirk tugs at his lips. “And because you're hot."
"Don't lie–" you start to protest, but he interrupts you, pointing out the obvious.
"I'm not lying," his grip on your arms is firm but gentle as he forces them away from your body, allowing the beach robe to open slightly. You open your mouth to protest, but he’s quick to silence you. "Shh. Let me appreciate my girl," he scolds playfully, his eyes roaming all over your body with admiration. "So beautiful. So fucking sexy. Look at you."
A warm flush spreads across your cheeks as Bucky's words sink in.
“I mean, you seriously believe all those mean things you just said about yourself?” He sighs, shaking his head, and then surprises you by dropping to his knees before you.
Bucky Barnes, on his knees, for you.
His hands find their place on your hips, giving them a gentle squeeze. "You mean this belly right here and those thighs, they're the problem?" he teases, emphasizing his words by holding and squeezing the areas he mentioned.
A mischievous smirk finds its way to his lips. Then, with a mixture of tenderness and playfulness, he starts placing kisses and little bites on your stomach and thighs, eliciting a weak giggle from you. The touch of his lips awakens a warmth within your chest, and for the first time in weeks you feel genuinely loved.
“I think I’ve been doing a poor job as your boyfriend if you think you are anything but the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He says between kisses. “But in case you haven’t noticed,” he squeezes your hips firmly, but not enough to hurt, “these thick thighs, your perfect belly? Those are the best fucking things about you, baby. You have no idea how much I love them,” he affirms, his voice laced with conviction.
You bite your lower lip, finding it hard to completely believe his words.
Getting back on his feet, he cups your face between his hands, demanding your attention, and asks seriously, "you hear me?"
"Yeah, yeah. I hear you," you respond, your voice tinged with the tiniest bit of hope.
"You're perfect. My perfect, beautiful, sexy doll. Alright?" he asserts, his tone gentle yet firm.
You nod, the sadness and the doubts no longer clouding your eyes.
Without any warning, he smacks your ass, and you yelp, your widen eyes snapping at him just to see that mischievous grin playing on his lips.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to show you how sexy you are later. But right now we have a party to go back to, yeah?” He lifts one eyebrow.
You smile at the promise and nod again. Satisfied, Bucky steps behind you, removing your robe. When he’s done, he lightly taps your thigh three times, silently asking you to move. “C’mon, baby, they’re waiting for us.”
As you walk back to your friends, Bucky’s body glued to your back, those insecurities slowly fade away. Maybe you’re not the skinniest of girls, but you know now that the same way you love Bucky’s scars, he adores and cheriches every single curve of yours. And, honestly, that’s what matters to you.
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fluff#bucky x you#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky fluff#bucky fic#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x y/n
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THE NEWSPAPER - PEDRI
summary: you let the hate get to you
warnings: none
Breakups can be bitter.
Walking past a person you used to hug, kiss, and touch freely, is a surreal feeling.
Suddenly what was once natural is now weird. If Pedri would walk over to you now and kiss your forehead, everyone would look at him like he's insane.
5 months ago, he walked over to you, kissed you on your lips and everyone would look at the two of you.
"How sweet they are" Some people would say. They were jealous and their only goal was to make you two break up.
Some of them loved your relationship, some of them didn't.
You didn't care much about what the media said,
or did you?
3 months earlier
"She's my girlfriend and I'm happy that she's here and I don't have to hide her anymore." Pedri said as he looked at the interviewer in front of him.
"Will she always come to support you or was this just a one-time thing to show her off?" The interviewer asked him again and he laughed a bit while he scratched his jawline.
"She supports me from home too, not only from here, I have a better feeling already when I know that she thinks of me. It wasn't just a one-time thing tho." Pedri answered again and the interviewer nodded her head.
"Gracias Pedri, have a nice night." She said and Pedri nodded his head as he flashed her a smile.
You looked at him while your whole face was covered in a wide grin. "You're so sweet." You opened up your arms for him and he walked into them. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer.
"Gotta take every opportunity to show off my amazing girlfriend no?" Pedri asked as he pulled away to look at you and then leaned in for a kiss.
"You're right, now go change so we can go home." Pedri laughed as soon as you pushed him towards the tunnel.
"That was sweet, I've never seen him like this." Sira came over to you and wrapped her arm around your shoulders to pull you closer.
"Really?" You asked, not really wanting to believe her. It was too good to be true.
"Yeah, he's a completely different person ever since, it's incredible," Sira said fascinated, the two of you began walking towards the exit as the stadium started to get empty.
As you waited for Pedri patiently in your car, you were scrolling through instagram until you saw a post from the spanish newspaper.
"Hey, I'm sorry I took so long, I just had to talk to Luis-" Pedri began as he sat into the car but then stopped immediately after he saw how focused you were on your phone.
"What are you reading?" He snatched the phone away from you and you tried to grab it but he held you back.
After he read everything he immediately blockdd the account from your phone. "Don't read this shit, you know they'll use everything against me and you. But I love you you're no distraction to me, remember that, I love you." Pedri gave you back your phone and leaned closer to you.
"Yeah, don't worry about it, I don't care." You mumbled and he gave you a reassuring look before leaning in to kiss you.
The kiss was long and passionate and for a moment you forgot what you just read 20 seconds ago.
Pedri had that magic where he'd make you forget things that were on your mind. He had that special aura which you could feel even if you just looked at him.
His presence was noticeable in every room he stepped foot in. He showed you what true love really is and how it feels like.
In the end you knew that you loved to love him.
For Pedri it was the same, he adored every single thing you did. When you'd fall asleep first he'd stay up for hours just watching you sleep.
Every single detail about you when you sleep is engraved into his brain. The way your breathing slows down, the way your eyes twitch sometimes, and the way you move when you're uncomfortable.
However, it didn't stop, that wasn't the only article written about you, Pedri always told you: "It's the press, they'll find something else in a couple of days, don't worry" But it didn't stop.
"Pedri's girlfriend is a bad influence for his playing style"
"Could the youngster be too distracted to play football?"
"Teenage love for footballers is the most dangerous thing."
You tried so hard to ignore everything but it just seemed to follow you, when you scrolled on instagram, trying to take your mind off of some things, it was there.
"Pedri's girlfriend" Without anyone really knowing you, they judged you. After spain has been eliminated from the world cup the noise just calmed down a bit. That was until you posted on your Instagram to let everyone know that you supported Pedri and will forever support him.
The comments were filled with hate and accusations towards you, that it was your fault that Pedri wasn't playing at his top level.
Pedri spoke about it with Xavi and he reassured his coach that he wasn't distracted. "Just stay calm, it'll pass." Pedri hugged you and you shook your head.
"It has been going on for two months. Why would people accuse me of something I never even spoke about?" You asked him, at this point tears in your eyes.
You didn't understand why people were hating you.
You then looked at a tiktok from a fan of Pedri and read the comments below it. "If I was her, I'd break up with him, no way that she's getting this much hate for being in love."
You turned off your phone and stared into the nothingness for 5 minutes after you read that. If you would break up with him, you'd be free from the press, it wouldn't be your fault anymore if Pedri made a bad pass.
So the following day when Pedri came home from an away game you sat down with him.
"Pedri, we need to talk." Pedris head shot up immediately and he looked at you, waiting patiently for you to speak up.
"I think it's better if we part ways." You told him, your hands shaking a bit as his eyes widen.
"Amor, How would that be better?" Pedri asked as he took your hand in his.
"It's just so overwhelming that everyone always blames me for every bad pass you make. It's like everyone waited for someone to blame." You told him and he looked at the floor, he seemed zoned out.
"I can talk to a reporter about it, that they should stop, I can make it stop. Just please don't-" You cut him off.
"No, don't, I don't want you to talk about it because then everyone would get mad at you, so just- let's just part ways. I can't do this any longer, I'm sorry seriously." You told him and he shook his head.
"No, we're gonna find a solution, please, Amor don't panic now, stay calm and we're gonna find a solution." Pedri held your hand in his and drew circles on the back of your hand.
"Pedri, I can't please, just- I don't want to." Your breathing started to speed up and he noticed. He immediately pulled you into a hug and then kisses your cheek.
"I wont let you break up with me, we're gonna find a solution. I promise." Pedri whispered in your ear and you felt your breathing calm down and your eyes stopped watering.
"Please, please find a solution."
3 days later
"It's really ashaming of what the press is doing, if I play a wrong pass are you gonna blame my girlfriend? How would she have anything to do with that? If I make a mistake it was because I kept looking at her? Whoever says that has never stepped foot into a filled stadium with people. You spin around and walk around so much that in the end you forget where the bench even is." Pedri inhaled sharply. "I'd just like to kindly request everyone to stop writing about my girlfriend. I take all responsibility for my bad playstyle the last few weeks and it's entirely my fault. Just please stop the messages because if you keep going, I wont respect you as a football fan. Thank you."
You smiled as you looked at your boyfriend stand up from the table and walk away from the press conference.
After all, he promised.
#barca#gavi#pablo gavi#fc barcelona#football#futbol#fanfic#mustread#espana#gavi x reader#pedri#pedri/gavi#pedri smut#pedri x reader#pedri gonzalez#pedrito
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