#that really is what wins out. but i do wonder if he like knew and was grossed out or some shit. which i get to an extent but also it’s not | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

justauthoring · 2 days

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and i wonder... who? [6]

somehow, you find yourself torn between the two hottest guys at your school and you have no idea who to choose. loosely based off of operation: true love where geto is eunhyeuk and gojo is dohwa :)

a/n: sorry for the delayed update! life kind of took a sporadic turn lol and the next few chapters might take a bit but i'll try my best <3

pairing: geto suguru x f!reader, gojo satoru x f!reader, satosugu x f!reader

tag list: @username23356-blog - @anxious-chick - @novacaneformybrain - @mandysfanfics - @rottmntrulesall - @voiceofnoreturn - @rh-tg1 - @ky0mybeloved - @black-swan-blog27 - @ladytamayolover - @the8ate - @maybe-a-bi-with - @dudalo100 - @reese-is-right - @6lonely-town6 - @its-a-damn-blue-brick - @kimi01985 - @dorusken - @siimp4youu - @catobsessedlady - @paper--angel - @animechick555 - @meshiinuma - @xxannyxx - @kaeyaviado - @kochochan-shinobulvrrs - @ichikanu - @valeriinee - @yourfavepookiebear let me know if you'd like to added! also i still don't know how to fix the tags - it works in editing but doesn't link some when i post it. if anyone knows how to fix this, please let me know!

Gojo knew exactly what Geto was up to and he had no intentions of letting him win.

He really thought he was being so suave and kind.

Gojo could see right through the bullshit.

That in of itself was truly Geto’s biggest mistake – given how often Gojo spent his time bullshitting other people, it wasn’t hard to tell when others were doing it. Sure, Gojo had no intention of doing that to you, but the fact remained plain and simple; people were gullible and fell for Gojo’s ‘charm’ every time just like he could see right through their sweet smiles and kind words.

Everybody wanted the same thing in the end and no one really truly cared about him. At least, not as a person.

Except for you.

You were different. He could tell immediately. The second he’d bumped into you that day and instead of grovelling on your knees with an apology like every single other person would’ve–you got mad. You actually got angry at him. You weren’t all fake smiles and sweet words, and that’s when Gojo instantly knew that you were different. You weren’t just automatically nice to him because of who he was and because you thought you could get something from him; no, you were nice to him because you actually cared.

Sure, it was fun teasing you. Fun seeing your face grow embarrassed and you stutter over your words, but what Gojo liked best was when you thought no one was watching and you’d have this look on your face. This concentrated, twisted face that was completely you in every meaning of the word.

Truth be told, Gojo thought it was beautiful.

He thought you were beautiful.

So, yeah, sure… It was a bummer when he realized he wasn’t the only guy who had eyes for you–and he wasn’t talking about Sukuna. Sukuna hadn’t even been a threat before you’d broken up with him. Just a few questions here and there and it was abundantly clear to Gojo that Sukuna was a horrible boyfriend and although he hadn’t really understood at the time why you’d still stuck with him, he wasn’t worried about getting you to break up with your loser boyfriend.

And hey! Then you went and did it yourself.

Now, it wasn’t like he was saying Geto was a threat—because he wasn’t. Of course he wasn’t. But, it had been just the tiniest bit annoying (yeah, that was the word) for Gojo to find out that he wasn’t the only one who’d realized how amazing you were and if the looks on Geto’s face were anything to go by, it seemed Geto was just as down bad as he was. And sure, he’d been peeved when he’d seen that you’d, at some point, borrowed Geto’s hoodie–and washed it for him, and Geto had been at your house–but it’s fine.

These were all just tiny blimps and Gojo knew he’d be able to win you over easily.

Not that you were just a prize to be won. That certainly was not it.

Gojo’s intentions weren’t just for the sake of it—he’d said it already, hadn’t he?

He thought you were beautiful, kind, funny (the list went on) and you were the only one who had ever been real around him. And Gojo wasn’t about to give that up for anything.

So, no, Gojo wasn’t stupid. He could see Geto’s plan from a mile away to sway you over and he had no intention of losing.

You’re starting to think inviting both Geto and Gojo to hang out wasn’t such a great idea.

And it wasn’t because you didn’t want to hang out with them. No, that certainly was not it. Although you’d only known them for a short amount of time, you considered them friends and you hoped they felt the same.

It’s just… well, maybe you underestimated just how much the two didn’t like each other.

It definitely didn’t seem like they were all that concerned with hiding it from you either; at least not anymore.

If anything, it felt like a constant battle between them all night, with the winning side tipping towards the both of them back and forth. Like a relentless, painful game of tug of war.

One second it was Geto tugging you towards a ride, deliberately leaving Gojo trailing behind, and then the next it was Gojo getting you to try some sort of sweet he’d bought and purposefully making sure that Geto could see him spoon-feeding you. You’re not really sure why they’re tug of war is centered around you, but you were tired of being the bait every time.

Now, sitting on a bench, you could physically feel the two of them glaring at each other from over your head on either side of you.

“Ugh!” you cry, pushing yourself to a sudden stand before spinning around to face them. They both start at your sudden outburst, wide eyes falling on you, before flinching when you shove your finger in both of their faces. “I can’t take the two of you! Constantly fighting all night! This was supposed to be fun but it’s been nothing but awkward and tense all night!”

Lips parting, they slowly glance at each other.

Gojo is the first to speak up, pouting; “but Y/N! He’s been trying to hog you all night.”

“Tch,” Geto scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest as he rolls his eyes. “As if. At least I don’t try to feed her every snack I find.” Then, turning to Gojo, Geto smirks; “what are you? Her mother?”

“I’m being considerate for your information,” Gojo growls, leaning towards Geto without missing a beat. “Did you even bother to ask her if the rides you dragged her on were ones she wanted to go on? I’m pretty sure—”

“This is exactly what I mean!” You cut in, holding your hands out toward them in exasperation. At the dumb look they both give you, you throw your hands in the air; “that’s it. I’m going to the washroom and when I come back, the two of you better have made up or else I’m leaving.”

At that, both of their eyes widened.

When neither of them say anything, you just sigh.

“I’ll be back.”

Shoulders slumping, you turn, not bothering to give them another glance before making your way towards the bathroom. It takes you a minute to find the washroom and it’s a little far from Geto and Gojo, but you figure the distance just gives them more time to work out their issues, so you’re not worried. After you’re done, you wash your hands, humming softly to yourself as you dry your hands before making your way out.

Only, you find yourself bumping into another.

“Oh, I’m so–”

Your words, however, fall flat the second you see who you bumped into.

“Su-Sukuna—”

Not wasting a second, Sukuna grabs you by the arm; “can we talk for a second?”

You step back instantly. “I’m actually here with—”

“Geto and Gojo,” he cuts in, voice sharp. His grip never lessens despite you trying to pull away and then suddenly you find yourself being dragged around the side of the washroom, Sukuna pulling you into a more secluded area away from prying eyes. You try not to stumble on your feet as he drags you, forcing the both of you to a stop the second you find your footing and casting a nervous glance around you when you realize no one really can see either of you.

“I know,” Sukuna finishes the second the both of you stop. Your eyes fall on him at his tone, leaning back when you see the nasty glare on his face. “Didn’t take you long to move on, did it?”

Lips parting, you’re baffled; “Su–Sukuna, did you follow me here?”

He scoffs, as if that’s absurd. “I overhead you at school. I invited Mei Mei with me,” he explains with a shrug. “She’s… somewhere.”

Annoyed, you raise your hand, grabbing the one holding your arm and ripping it off of you by the wrist. Sukuna watches you with thin lips. “That still sounds like following me,” you hiss, narrowing your eyes up at him. “And what? Just wanted to wait until I was alone before you cornered me?”

“You’re being dramatic,” Sukuna scoffs. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

Stepping back from him, you cross your arms. “Why?” You bluntly ask, tilting your head. “Because I have nothing to say to you.”

“I want to finish our conversation from last time,” Sukuna explains, stepping towards you.

“There’s nothing to say,” you state, putting emphasis on the word ‘nothing’ to make it clear. “I broke up with you. That’s it. And I have no intention of “continuing” our conversation,” you make the air quotes as you speak, “when you gave me bruises the last time we spoke. I’ve had to sweat in sweaters and hoodies all week and was only able to properly cover them with makeup today.”

Frowning, Sukuna swallows thickly.

“And why do you even care?” You ask, shaking your head as you shove at his chest lightly. “I moved on too quickly? Didn’t you cheat on me?”

Taking your wrist in his hand, Sukuna’s eyes flash, like he’s going to do something, before he stops himself, face falling briefly. “What do you want me to do?” And oddly, his voice sounds different; twisted and distressed… almost, desperate? “You want me to beg? Get on my knees and beg for you to reconsider?”

Well, that certainly wasn’t what you were expecting.

Still, you find no true argument with his words.

“Yeah,” you say without hesitation, straightening your back out as you step towards him. “Kneel.”

And there’s the briefest moment of pause, stilling and suffocating silence, before you feel a sharp sting across your cheek.

“Well, this is getting nowhere.”

Huffing, Geto shakes his head; “clearly.”

Silence follows. Despite Geto’s sarcasm, Gojo shockingly doesn’t retort in return, and then, unfortunately, Geto finds himself sitting there in silence, Gojo doing the same beside him, the both of them waiting for you to return.

Even if that means you’ll all just end up leaving because Geto and Gojo couldn’t work out their differences for one night.

This certainly wasn’t what Geto imagined for your first date with him – upsetting you enough that you’d leave… but hey, Gojo wasn’t supposed to be here either so it’s not entirely his fault.

…Right?

Sinking further against the bench, Geto lets his head lean back, glancing up at the darkening sky.

A minute passes. Then another. Then another.

Geto frowns. Sitting back up, he glances in the direction you’d left, brows furrowing when he doesn’t see you peeking through the crowd. A quick glance at his phone tells him you’ve been gone for at least ten minutes, maybe more… it didn’t take you that long to go to the washroom, did it?

“She’s taking a long time, isn’t she?”

Face falling, Geto glances at Gojo. If he was thinking the same thing, then…

With a split second decision, the both of them stand up, not wasting a second before heading in the direction they saw you leave in. Geto sees the sign to the washroom after two minutes of walking and his panic really starts to settle in then, eyes frantically glancing around to see even a flash of you somewhere.

But you’re nowhere to be found.

“Can you see her?” Geto asks, turning to Gojo beside him.

The white-haired boy is frowning; “no. She’s not here.”

Chest tightening, Geto tries to ignore the racing of his heart as he frantically glances around. The park isn’t that busy but still, it’s overwhelming him just how many people he’s seeing that aren’t you… Where could you have gone in the ten minutes since you’d gone to the washroom?

Then, briefly, Geto sees a familiar head of blueish-white hair.

It’s Mei Mei.

Which meant…

“Gojo,” Geto calls sharply, pulling the boy's attention on him.

“What?” Gojo calls, stepping towards him. “Did you find her? I can’t see her anywhere.”

“No, but I know where she might be.”

Not bothering to explain, Geto starts to walk towards Mei Mei, Gojo quickly moves to follow after him, but he makes it a total of five steps before Gojo is suddenly calling your name. Startled and confused, Geto glances back at Gojo only to see the guy heading to the right and as Geto’s eyes trail upwards and sees you, he swears he sees red.

What?

What… just happened?

Bringing a hand to your cheek, you stare back at Sukuna in disbelief. To his credit, even he seems a bit shocked by his actions, but the anger easily takes over any shock and his face twists into something nasty as he takes the wrist of the hand holding your cheek and tugs you towards him.

Your mind is numb. You can feel your eyes welling with tears, not so much because of the pain but because of the sudden fear radiating through your veins and the way it feels like you can’t breathe, but yet your body refuses to move. You know you should—you know you should be trying to get as far away from Sukuna as possible, but your body won’t listen.

Neither will your mind.

“Me!” Sukuna cries out, sound estranged as he squeezes your wrist hard. “Kneel for you?! Are you insane? You should be thanking me for ever even considering giving you the light of day when you’re nothing but—”

But Sukuna never finishes his words.

One second, he’s in front of you and the next he isn’t. You’re left standing there, confused, cheek still hurting, wrist aching, arms left before you, before there’s another set of hands pressing into you but this time they’re warm and gentle and soft and wait—

You’ve felt these hands before.

You blink and then suddenly Gojo’s familiar blue eyes are staring into your own with concern, lips parting as he asks you what you’re sure is if you’re okay even though you can’t hear him actually say the words.

But you can’t think of how to respond to him because your eyes slowly shift to his left and you finally see Sukuna. Only, he’s on his back and Geto is over top of him, gripping him by the front of his shirt before swinging his free hand back and punching him square in the face.

Oh.

“—Y/N. Y/N! Look at me! Are you okay?”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you turn back to Gojo. “I’m… I’m okay.”

His hands leave you and a start of panic floods you, but then his palm is pressing gently into your stinging cheek and your eyes flutter as it instantly soothes the ache; even if a little.

“Your cheek is red,” Gojo mumbles, frowning. “That fucking asshole.”

And his narrowed eyes glance back at Sukuna.

That reminds you—

Your eyes shift and Geto is still punching Gojo and your face falls when you see his knuckles are slightly red—bloody.

“Geto…” You call but your voice comes out as a whisper, panic crawling up your throat. Geto lands another hit on Sukuna and you swear you hear the sound of his fist making contact with your cheek and the panic deepens because something about seeing Geto that angry scares you. “Geto–please… please—!”

You’re stepping forward even as Gojo tries to pull you back, but you manage to catch a grip on the back of Geto’s sweater just as a high-pitched scream echoes. Mei Mei comes running in just as Geto finally focuses on your touch, your knuckles turning white from how hard you’re clutching onto his shirt.

Breathless, panting, Geto lets his eyes fall on you, then Gojo who nods at him, before falling back on Sukuna who has a bloody nose and what looks like a black eye and then, finally, Mei Mei who is falling on her knees beside him.

“What did you do?” She cries, voice shrieking. Her watery eyes meet Geto’s eyes directly. “What did you do!”

Stepping back, Geto stumbles, and Gojo moves to steady him just as you reach for his hand.

You frown at how bruised it is.

Gojo watches the interaction for a moment before speaking up; “we should probably get her out of here.”

Still somewhat breathless, Geto nods; “yeah,” he calls out, voice hoarse.

Gojo sets a hand against your back and Geto is threading his bruised fingers through yours, and the both of them tug you out, not letting you see Sukuna and ignoring Mei Mei’s cries of indignation.

And the three of you don’t stop once.

“That was honestly kind of badass.”

“Satoru.”

“I mean it!”

Snorting, Geto rolls his eyes, before meeting Gojo’s. “Thanks.”

Grinning, Gojo sends him a thumbs up.

“This isn’t a joke,” you cut in, carefully wrapping a bandage around Geto’s knuckles. “You could get in serious trouble for this if he tells the school. Or worse, if Mei Mei does.”

“Psh,” Gojo laughs, “they won’t.”

You turn to him in disbelief. “And how do you know that?”

“If Sukuna says something, he’ll not only be a snitch but his reputation will be ruined. I mean, he lost… badly. He didn’t even get one hit in,” Gojo explains with a grin, stepping towards you and Geto who are sitting on your couch. “There’s no way he’d ever admit to that. And Mei Mei won’t either because she’ll do anything Sukuna says.”

Biting your lip, you take in Gojo’s explanation — honestly, you couldn’t find any fault in his explanation.

“Besides,” Geto speaks up, eyes focused on you. “He deserved it. For hitting you.”

Sitting on the single chair across from you, Gojo lets out a heavy breath; “ditto. The guys a dick.”

Frowning, you set Geto’s hand down, now fully bandaged, hugging yourself as you glance at your feet.

Geto and Gojo glance at each other.

“What happened?” Geto asks after a moment, voice low.

Pinching your arms slightly, you sigh.

“Y/N,” Gojo pushes, “come on.”

“I don’t even know.” You breathe after a moment, shoulders slumping. “I was just leaving the washroom and then I bumped into him and when I tried to get away, he just… grabbed me. I didn’t think–... I didn’t think he get that mad.”

Meeting each other's eyes, Geto speaks up first; “what did he want?”

“He wanted… to get back together,” you choose not to mention the part when he insinuated you were easy by being with Geto and Gojo… that would only egg them on further. And even if Geto decided he didn’t want to get his hands anymore bloody, you couldn’t count on Gojo feeling the same way. “When I told him no, he asked me if I wanted him to beg. I said yes.”

There’s a stunned silence, then Gojo laughs. You blink at him, surprised, having expected they’d curse you out for being so stupid to try and talk back to Sukuna, but Gojo is laughing and when you turn back to Geto, he’s smirking.

You bite back a smile.

“Nice,” Gojo snorts. “The man could be knocked down a peg or two.”

You just nod to yourself, secretly really happy they both liked your confidence.

But then, you remember what you’d originally been saying; “anyways… After that, he—... slapped me. I was shocked and my body wouldn’t move, so he grabbed him and truthfully I don’t know what he would’ve done but you guys got there before he could.” Hesitating a second, you meet both of their eyes. “Thank you.”

Gojo nods, but Geto just glances at you, then, you watch as his eyes lower towards your arm.

Your back straightens.

“Is that the only time he’s hurt you?”

Eyes widening, you freeze. “W-What?”

Reaching forward, Geto takes your wrist in his own—instantly, you notice how much more gentle his touch is. His fingers loop around the length of your wrist but he doesn’t squeeze or pull, and you follow his lead, despite your nerves, easily as he shifts your arm, moving it so it's raised. He then takes his free hand and rubs at your arm.

You watch with parted lips as he rubs the foundation you’d put there clean off, revealing a faint and healing bruise.

“It’s why you were wearing sweaters all week, yeah?” Geto asks, meeting your gaze with lidded, dark eyes.

Swallowing thickly, you nod.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” Gojo cuts in, pulling your attention away from Geto and on him as his face tenses.

“I’ll help you.” Geto adds, letting your arm fall softly by your side, nodding over at Gojo.

You watch the two of them for a moment, before realizing;

“Hey!” You suddenly call, ignoring the mood as you smile at them. “You two are getting along!”

Geto and Gojo stare at you blankly.

“That’s what you’re concerned with?” Geto asks incredulously.

“Why not?” You laugh, shaking your head. “This is what I wanted all night!,” then, lowering your voice, you add; “even if it is bonding over talk of murder…”

There’s a beat of silence, then, Geto snorts, a second later, Gojo follows by a laugh of his own. You all glance at each other for a moment longer, before bursting out in a collective laugh, your head falling back as you clutch at your stomach, giggling.

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #getou suguru #getou suguru x reader #gojo x reader #getou x reader #satosugu #satosugu x reader

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23fallencomets · 2 days

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chapter four!

this took a while ngl and it’s a bit longer than usual but that’s because there’s a sliver of plot. enjoy reading and i’ll try to figure out when the next update will be 💞💞

[twitter]

user39: anyway do you guys remember the blackout of 2023

user40: babes i can NAWT do this rn

user41: the year-long blackout of logan sargeant

user42: wait what

user43: logan was being hella mistreated by his first agency that we genuinely had no way of knowing anything about him

user43: we knew he was okay when he briefly showed up in a reel Fred had posted towards the end of the year

user42: logan sued and won his case against the agency and we try not to bring it up

[instagram]

logansargeant made a new post

!los angeles

liked by oscarpiastri, olliebearman and 125,490 more

logansargeant: back to the city i go

oscarpiastri: all the way across the country again

logansargeant: win in spain and i’ll attend the triple header

oscarpiastri: deal

user42: bro!??

olliebearman: pls take me with you

kimi.antonelli: aren’t you supposed to be asleep??

olliebearman: aren’t you??

user44: oh my god it’s loscar all over again

arthur_leclerc: can’t believe you didn’t want me to go with you

logansargeant: you have testing in italy

charles leclerc: is this why you were looking for flights to la???

arthur_leclerc: logan’s la apartment is really nice 😞

[twitter]

logansargeantoffical made a new tweet!

user45: alright who are we fighting this week

user46: is it because of what that bitchass company is saying

user47: his old model agency?? didn’t he sue them or something??

user48: yeah, he sued them mid-2023 and won in december of the same year

user49: logan i beg you to go batshit crazy pls pls pls

[instagram]

logansargeant posted a story!

[twitter]

logansargeant made a new tweet!

logan snorts, only liam can grate oscar’s nerves like that. he’s thinking of a reply, wondering how far he can push his pr training. he doesn’t get to in the end, a message from his rep causing his heart to drop. the messages are half congratulatory and half concerned, but he’s more focused on the image.

logan turns his phone off, sliding it across the table and sighing. was he excited for the event? sure, he loves being able to support his community, even if he’s not openly out, his support has never been quiet.

the last thing he needed though, the very last thing on top of a mountain of responsibilities, was a blind item about him. the last one nearly ruined him and the very new and fresh relationship he had been in. despite things turning out okay, logan wasn’t and everything seems to come back to the stupid fucking account that nearly killed him.

his phone goes off, a one-two buzz before the continuous buzz of a call. he debates letting it ring before deciding against it and grabbing his phone.

the smiling picture of oscar gets him to answer it, holding the phone up to his ear.

“are you coming?” is the first thing oscar says, voice still thick with sleep. something tugs at logan, fondness, contentment and the ever-consuming knowledge that he’s horribly in love with his best friend.

“you made pole didn’t you.” logan says back, keeping his eyes on the laptop in front of him. it had gone dim while he contemplated his existence, the email he was in the middle of replying to ignored in favor to talk to oscar.

“mhm, don’t accept lawson’s offer.”

logan laughs, “lawson. you’re ridiculous, piastri.”

he can almost see oscar roll his eyes, “he’s lawson until he apologizes.”

“did you have to threaten him.”

oscar scoffs, “it wasn’t a threat, lolo, it was a promise.”

logan taps the touchbar of his laptop, saving the email reply before navigating his way to mark webber’s email address, cc’ing oscar on it.

“there’s a blind item about me.” he says quietly, “again.”

the call goes silent and logan knows that any residual sleep oscar had has been wiped. there’s rustling on the other side, the ping of oscar receiving the email does nothing to calm logan’s perpetual anxiety.

“god, like the last one wasn’t enough.” oscar snarks, “nearly six months of court visits and questionings and fuck-all investigations.”

2023 wasn’t a good year, half of it being because of Emmeris, the agency logan worked under. the nearly murderous hours, managers and employees that treated their guests like dolls, something to break down and mold to their liking. the other half was about the blind item, that logan was dating an indy driver, a childhood friend of his. the thing was that he was, the relationship itself last three more months before logan called it off. kyle called it dumb, but logan knew it would only be a matter of when it could follow him onto track.

“it’s about us,” logan adds on, “you’re the only one of our friends on the grid, liam and fred don’t count because they are reserve drivers.”

he can hear the cogs in oscar’s mind turn, always trying to be one step ahead, to navigate himself out of a car crash. the car crash in this situation being logan, again.

“let them think what they want.” oscar said, “we can talk about it when you get here, and we can face it together, just like we did last year.”

“with or without liam?”

oscar laughs, “without him this time, please, i do not want him hanging all over you again.”

[instagram]

logansargeant posted a story!

logansargeant made a new post!

liked by oscarpiastri, liamlawson30 and 289,678 more

logansargeant: home

oscarpiastri: watch me win

logansargeant: literally sitting in the mclaren garage as i type this

liamlawson: when did you even take these???

logansargeant: said ‘cheese’ and you said to give you a minute and then you pulled out the guitar

arthurleclerc: i think you just hate me

logansargeant: always 💞

arthurleclerc: hope your fantasy team loses

logansargeant: you’ll wish ill on your brother

charles_leclerc: im on your fantasy team??

logansargeant: it’s ferrari

user50: so glad that logan has a support system

frederikvestiofficial: where’s my pic

logansargeant: in my heart (he kept throwing pillows at me)

[twitter]

#logan sargeant #f1 #williams racing #ls2 #model!logan sargeant #oscar piastri #liam lawson #frederik vesti #ollie bearman #andrea kimi antonelli #throwing the whole gang here #this took forever #praying for at least q2 #williams racing when i get my hands on you #f1 rpf smau #the loscar is no longer becoming vague #loscar WILL thrive #kyle kirkwood mention

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nexusnyx · 2 days

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to my sweetheart

40s!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader [2.1k] Summary: If there’s one thing James can do, whatever it is the state of his mind, is guide his thoughts to you. 📝 This one is heavy on the angst so proceed with caution. | 🏷️ established relationship, letters, angst, longing. | warnings⚠️ mature content — war, drugs, violence, death, depression & alcohol consumption… etc.

masterlist | series masterlist

ㅤㅤㅤNovember, 1943.

Where did all go wrong?

It’s all he thought about for weeks. Months now. Wrong things, pain, rotten smells and even more rotten facades—people who were no longer people. So much, and Bucky could never reach an answer.

When they get captured, Bucky gives in.

Disappointment is too big of a feeling, and when aimed at oneself, it’s almost as bad as the cold. Despair is familiar, but painful too. There’s no hope. There’s nothing but his dreams.

So Bucky takes to dreaming of you.

At first, there’s more—his family, Steve, his comrades, but all of those get taken away when the torture begins; Bucky’s incapable of thinking about too many things, so his brain escapes somewhere else.

Some things are memories.

“Where are we going?” you asked.

The sun always hit your hair so beautifully. No amount of needles could take that memory away from him. “The back of the church.”

“I ain’t no church girl, Barnes,” you laughed.

He laughed at your audacity of saying it out loud. “As if I don’t know, sweetheart.”

“Hey!” you punched his arm.

“Why am I getting hit over the truth?”

“You’re not supposed to agree with me, dummie!”

He pulled you closer as you two crossed the street, checking both ways to make sure it was safe. “Don’t worry, me agreeing means I know that’s not an offense.”

“Really? I thought you agreed with most things that Father of yours said.”

“Most things, yeah.” He could listen to you talk for hours. The cadence of annoyance and mischief in your voice was more addicting than his cigarettes. “Not on this, though.”

“Cool, cool. I’m happy to hear my value isn’t strictly tied to certain dogmas, otherwise I’d be utterly fucked.”

That was the moment he knew you’d get along with Steve when you two met. They’re so similar. They’re gonna be great friends, too. “You sound just like—”

“—‘just like Stevie’”, you concluded along with him. “So I’ve heard.”

“I’m introducing the two of you, don’t worry,” he squeezed your waist a little tighter so you knew he meant it. The smile you sent him told him enough.

Then, your smile grew shier, your eyes wondering across the people in the street. “You still haven’t told me what we’re gonna do back there.”

“Can’t it be a surprise?”

“I don’t know, can you handle me pestering you about it ‘till we get there without giving me an answer?”

This time, Bucky laughed because this was going to be his life forever—arguing with stubborn heads. Losing. He loved it. It terrified him for a split second and then it disappeared into the thin mist of the morning—he could be frightened of many things, but his blessings and his love could never be one of them.

“Are you laughing ‘cause I’m winning? You’re gonna tell me now?”

“Jesus Christ, woman—”

“In his house, yes, but what else?”

The Church’s bell was visible with the next corner turned, but Bucky relented either way. “Remember Miss Blair?”

“Uhm… no?”

“The professor lady who came by your shop last week?”

“Oh! Fancy, foreigner. Yeah, I remember.” Your hand squeezed his tighter, and Bucky knew your brain had already caught up to his plans. You were anxious. Excited. He could almost see it vibrating around you.

“She’s giving free classes to young ladies on photography, so I thought… you know. You might like that.”

When he looked over to find your waiting eyes, Bucky knew he was right. He also knew now why his mother always insisted that when something is right, it’s easy to do right by it. He listened to you and the little things you said, even if they were whispered, confessed like secrets to be kept. He paid attention because they all added up to the pretty picture of you and if there was anything he could do to make that smile show, to put that glint in your eyes, he’d do it.

“I like it… a lot.”

It was the first time you spoke about something without saying the proper words, and Bucky heard it loud and clear.

Other things, were only dreams.

Fathom of desires.

He sees Steve, blond hair and blue eyes looming over him.

You, in a white gown, walking down an empty aisle. No one sits at the wooden benches, but the light… if there’s a god, he’s the one painting the inside of Bucky’s mind whenever he’s out of it but in it enough to still come up with images of you.

It’s the one thing that keeps him going, and they try to take it from him.

If he’s being honest, Bucky’s kept alive by the desire to see that last image come true. He tries to put some people in that scenario. Steve makes it there, and so do the Commandos. Anything else hurts too much to muster because he’d have to feel it being plied from him.

In between his daydreams, Bucky does hear things.

Arnim Zoia. Red skull.

Hydra.

All words that etch into his skin like an infection. An allergy.

When his brain isn’t mushed into a sorrow excuse of something, Bucky even tries to look around.

They threaten to burn his eye when they catch him, so Bucky stops.

He has no hope, but if he did get out and never got to see you again, well—

The daydreams of you in a white dress are all he has, and one day, a splash of red shows up right in the center of your dress.

Bucky starts screaming that night, and two days later, Steve is there.

It can’t be, but it is.

Not one of his daydreams. Not one of he memories, or desires.

“Steve?”

All throughout the rescue, it’s almost… easy to keep up the appearances.

Almost easy to fake being human. He remembers he is. Bucky’s in one piece, and somehow, alive, so he does his best to put on a smile and be happy that his comrades are all free as well.

“To Captain America!”

Toasting to Steve might be the only real thing he does that night.

That, and their conversation in the back of the bar’s alley where Steve tries to put into a few minutes everything that happened to him and how he arrived there, broader, taller, somehow looking every bit like his insides always were—heroic, agile, solid.

It takes everything in him to not throw himself in Steve’s arms and fall apart right there.

The hours celebrating feel like an out of body dream, and since Bucky’s grown used to those, it’s like watching a film, but from up close.

There’s booze, which he doesn’t drink but pretends to. There’s chatter, which he laughs at without actively listening and partakes almost automatically, and at last, he’s released.

Up in his room, Bucky showers with enough strength to gain a new skin, eats what he bought downstairs so his stomach stops making those noises and when he looks at the bed, the unsettling feeling that appears to be hunger but never is sweeps in, like a monsoon season.

Bucky sits on the edge, staring at his own hands for a moment. They’re shaking. He’s no longer crying, but his body keeps on shaking.

A knock on the door startles him before the voice soothes the fear, “Buck? It’s me.”

Steve.

“Come in.”

Steve enters and Bucky’s alone with him now, which means he get to look properly. Assess the way Steve still walks like he’s not used to all of this height, and the mannerisms that make up Stevie.

He sits right next to Bucky, their thighs touching. Both of them face the wall for a minute, content to stay in silence.

When Steve turns to him, he lifts his hand in the air in a slow motion for Bucky to realize what he’s doing before it happens.

The touch on his knee is almost as appreciated as the fact that Steve doesn’t ask. He also gave Bucky a second to stop him in case he refused to be touched, and none of it goes unnoticed.

“I…” Steve’s voice is a whisper. He clears his throat and tries again. “I don’t wanna ask about how have you been, ‘cause…”

Bucky snickers.

“Right,” Steve sighs. “I’ve been a circus show monkey for them while the real fight’s been happening behind my back and I—”

“If you apologize Steve Grant Rogers, I swear on my ma I’ll find the strength to whoop you.”

“Oh, thank god,” Steve groans, relief written all over his face after the threat. It sounds like you’re still there. Bucky smiles despite himself. “I do want to, though.”

“But you ain’t gonna.”

“But I wanted to,” there’s a stupid smile showing up on the corner of Steve’s mouth when Bucky looks to him, and the silence takes over again.

This time, it’s accompanied by a smile.

Then, it hits Bucky like a lightning. His smile disappears and all he remembers are the words in your last letter,

One part of me constantly sick, praying to gods I never even believed in before that you get home, and now the other part constantly worried, unsure of where my best friend is and knowing damn well he’s doing something stupid. Something only Steve could do.

and fuck. “Does she know?”

It might be the wide eyes or the fact that they only talk about you, but Steve gets it in a second. “I told Lady, yeah. Not about—this,” he gestures to all of his body, “but that I found something to do.”

“‘Something to do?’”

Steve laughs at himself. “Yeah, I haven’t gotten her reply yet but she’s gonna call me names and I know she’s not gonna buy it.”

“You didn’t even try,” Bucky chuckles.

Steve shrugs his shoulder. “I’m not a good liar.”

“That’s a lie,” Bucky almost laughs. Almost.

“Here’s a truth—I got everybody’s stuff back,” Steve says it quickly—confessing. Bucky’s chest constricts in that utmost familiar way because he does remember Steve leaving amidst all the gunpowder and screams, saying he had to get something.

“What?”

Steve reaches a hand inside his jacket and Bucky’s heart takes a trip inside his body because it knows what Steve’s about to pull out from there and he can’t believe it. His throat closes, his eyes betray him by filling up with water and even through the blurry, barely-lit view, there they are.

The letters.

Bucky’s too stunned to speak. To move. To understand what is this thing washing over him, making his cold body warmer again.

Steve’s voice is there. “You should know I wrote to her—I told her we found you and you’re in one piece. The rest—well, I imagine whatever else you wanna say to her you’ll say yourself.”

Shaking more than before, Bucky picks the pack from Steve’s hand.

They weight the same.

He brings them close to his face and breathes in deep—it’s still there. Faint, as always, but the smell of your perfume which you make sure to spray, he’s reminded of it.

Steve catches him before he falls.

His arms are sturdier than Bucky imagined, but that’s good. Softness would be lost on him right now, and his tears are too heavy.

“Can you—can you—” he tries, but there’s no need to finish.

Steve nods. “I’ll stay.”

All he does is move up the bed and pull Bucky closer to him, hugging him as tight as always.

It’s easier to cry here.

It’s warm inside Steve’s embrace.

Bucky had forgotten what warmth was.

sweetheart,

I would apologize, but you’d tell me off for it. “It wasn’t my fault,” you’d said. So I won’t.

I Trust And Love You.

I trust you to know that the memory of you has been keeping me sane. Fed. I trust you to know that our moments laughing and talking about all the little things is what gives me hope. To see more things. To keep fighting. To help Steve.

We’re gonna end this thing. We’re gonna end this war.

We have to.

How else am I gonna come back to you?

How else am I gonna see your smile again? We’re gonna do it because I need to.

I have to see that smile, hear that wicked laugh, I have to look at you and see that you know I love you.

This letter’s short because we’re on the move, but I had to write at least something. Now you remember I’m here, and I’m thinking of you as I always am, and you know I’ll come back.

Steve found me so I could find you again and that’s what we’ll do.

We’ll both come back to you.

I love you, sweetheart.

Forever yours,

Jay.

↳ my inbox 💌 | tip jar ♡ ↲

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ☆ next chapter on the 29th ☆

#usernexusnyx #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x female reader #40s!bucky barnes #40s bucky #bucky barnes angst #james bucky barnes #40s!bucky barnes x you #40s!bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x you

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ghostsworld1234 · 3 hours

Text

Kento Nanami x f!reader - Happy House

Fluff; Reader is referred to as a mother-figure and called mom

---

I heard the door open, my heart filling with joy as I turned running to the door. “Ken!” I shouted, giggling as I ran over, his arms catching me with little struggle as our lips met for a quick kiss. I looked up at him, my lips pulled into a large smile. “You’re home.” I whispered. He nodded his head, a gentle smile on his lips.

“I am, my love.” He whispered back. I looked seeing a pink haired boy, Yuji Itadori. I knew of him. “This is Yuji Itadori. Gojo is keeping him hidden from the higher ups and the school right now. I figured you wouldn’t mind if he came home for dinner.” I nodded my head.

“He’s more than welcome!” I said, smiling at Yuji. “Hello Itadori, I’m (name).” I said, ushering him into the apartment. “Ken rarely brings students over.” I said, turning and grabbing plates. Kento taking them to set the table.

“Thank you for letting me stay!” He said cheerfully. I nodded my head.

“Of course, sweetie.” I said, waving my hand. “I made Katsudon, that’s okay with you right? I can make you something else if you’d prefer?” I asked. He shook his head. I nodded. “Wonderful! So how long have you been at Jujutsu High?”

“I started not long ago, but then I got killed. Gojo and Nanamin have been teaching me Jujutsu.” He said. I looked at him worried with how okay with it he seemed. I looked to Kento who shook his head. I smiled at Yuji.

“Isn’t Jujutsu weird? I feel like I had so many weird different days.” I said, trying to differ the conversation. I turned grabbing the items for dinner, Yuji helping me bring it to the table.

“You were a sorcerer?” He asked. I nodded my head.

“Technically I still am. The higher ups don’t tend to send me out.” I said, shrugging.

“What’s your technique?” He asked.

“I have two, they’re called the Soul and the Mind Techniques.” I said, sitting down next to Kento, Yuji sitting on the other side. He tilted his head. I motioned for him to help himself, the boy quickly plating his food. “I can control souls and minds of people and curses.” I explained. He looked up surprised.

“What? So you’re a special grade, right?” He asked. I nodded my head, giving him a polite smile.

“I am yes. However, I am currently out of commission due to the higher-ups suspending me from missions.” I said. He looked at me confused. I shrugged. “I accidentally may have nearly killed a higher-up who went on the mission with me.” Kento sighing.

“Love, you threw him into a brick wall.”

“He should have stopped his body from hitting the wall.” I said, Yuji stifling a laugh. The three of us moving into a casual conversation about their day.

---

I smiled at the pink-haired boy as I stepped into the room. His friends were making him hold a picture frame around his face. “You really shouldn’t have gone with Gojo’s idea, sweetie.” I said, everyone turning to me. The second years cheering my name, while Megumi explained who I was to Nobara.

“It sounded like a good idea.” He mumbled. I giggled, shaking my head. I looked around the room.

“Well, either way, you all better win. I have a bet going with Utahime.” I said, smiling. “Don’t tell my husband though.” The group nodding their heads. I looked to Yuji. “Is everything going well?” I asked him. He nodded his head, smiling at me as he stood up. I nodded my head. “Good, I’ll see you later. Be sure to win!” I said, he nodded his head again.

“I’ve got this!” He said. I giggled, saying goodbye to everyone and heading to the viewing room. Gojo walking in step with me.

“So how’s the happy couple?” He teased. I laughed, shaking my head.

“We’re good.” I said, looking up at him. “How are you doing?” He shrugged. I frowned. “Please let me know if you need anything Gojo.” He looked down at me, before nodding.

“Of course (name)-chan! You’re the only one who’s strong enough to fight me on a daily basis!” He cheered. I smiled at him shaking my head.

---

The knock resounded on the door. Ken looking at it confused as I laughed, hopping up. I walked over opening it up. “Yuji!” I cheered, pulling the boy in for a hug. The boy accepting it quickly.

“Itadori, is everything okay?” Ken asked. He nodded.

“(Nickname) invited me to dinner!” He said, smiling up at Kento. Ken’s eyes changing slightly, a warm look in them as he nodded his head.

“Come on in.” I said, ushering Yuji in. The boy excitedly walking into the home, sitting on the couch, excitedly talking to Kento, who nodded his head, patiently listening. I leaned my head on my hand as I admired how he treated the boy. The three of us eventually moving to the table as the boy continued to talk to us, clearly feeling comfortable in the apartment. He eventually stood next to me helping me clean the dishes as Kento put them away.

“How is Todo?” I said jokingly. He laughed, shrugging. “So Yuji, is there anyone special in your life?” I asked. He shook his head. “Really?” I asked, the boy blushing as he scratched the back of his head. “Oh come on, Yuji, you can always tell me.” I said, giggling.

“Mommm.” He said, dragging out the last syllable, when the three of us all paused, silence filling the air. My eyes widening as my heart filled with pride. He sees me as his mom? He sees me as his mom! My hands shaking with nerves and excitement.

“D-do you see me as a mother-figure?” I asked him, a smile stretching onto my face. His face turning red as he nodded, happy tears filling my eyes. My stomach twisting with joy. “Ken! Yuji sees me as a mother-figure.” I said, excitedly pulling Yuji into a hug as he let out a laugh, hugging me back. He sees me as his mom! I hugged him tighter, my body feeling warm and happy at that revelation. His arms tightly holding me, as if scared this was a dream. Ken smiling in the reflection of the microwave. I waited until the boy pulled away, a smile on his face. His eyes showing happiness and relief. Mine showing joy and Ken's showing a certain warmth while looking at the two of us. My family may be considered weird, but I couldn't ask for anything different... I would never want it any different.

#nanami kento x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader fluff #nanami kento x female reader #nanami x reader

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sojulia1114 · 1 month

Text

It’s ridiculous how men will talk 2 women they don’t find attractive or “cool”. Genuinely treating them like nothing at all. I asked a friend from college (who used to rely on me to get through writing classes) to keep an eye out for job leads in NY for me since I’m looking to move and he immediately rejected the ask bc he doesn’t work in broadcasting (like we studied). I told him well neither do I, I’m looking for anything, and congratulations on your move and he read it without writing back… man I got you through two or three classes and you can’t at least surface level agree to keep a fucking eye out? Come on

#i did think he was cute but i never made any direct moves or anything. i wonder if it was that? i found him more inconsiderate though and #that really is what wins out. but i do wonder if he like knew and was grossed out or some shit. which i get to an extent but also it’s not #like I was plotting. no i really don’t get what the deal is.#i keep thinking about it like are you seriously talking to me like this bc i’m not cool enough to help? or what? i generally lean towards #good faith interpretations in situations as ambiguous as these but theyve never served me like usually if i read someone as bitchy its bc #theyre being bitchy. the texts this guy would send me whenever i saved his ass are crazy btw. ‘’niku lets move to la and write til the cows #come home’’ ‘’niku youre the best’’ ‘’niku can you please read over my essay’’ ‘’niku am i a bad writer’’ so what is this new energy #oh well. all my haters turn to waiters at the table of success. except my ex friend who just got nominated for an emmy.#unfort i am a waiter at her table of success

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jongseongsnudes · 6 months

Text

stress relief

roommate!jake. 2.4k words. smut with a perverted jake sim ft. ??

“show me your tits.”

“what the actual fuck sim?”

“i said what i said,” the man says so nonchalantly from the couch, a smug grin on his face. the one you swore you were going to punch hundreds of times before.

what started out as a peaceful saturday for you to study for the upcoming finals, turned into an entire afternoon full of your new roommate’s bullshit. the man had come home early - for once in his life - and decided to blast a horror movie in the living room.

you knew living with a roommate would be full of compromises but he also knew you were studying and setting the tv volume level at 70 for hours was a bit ridiculous. the man himself was already enough of a distraction as it was.

“show me your tits and i put the volume down. it’s a win win situation for the both of us.”

you could only laugh at the proposition, if you could even call it that. the audacity this man had to even suggest a thing but what did you expect, this was jake sim after all. the fuckboy-est fuckboy of them all.

“you’re an idiot. i’ll just go study somewhere else.”

you were back in your room before he could even open his mouth, not wanting to continue such a conversation with the man. you were already stressed out over finals and with the heavy storm outside, you really didn’t need jake’s antics right now.

jake sim had moved in after your last roommate three weeks ago and well... it had been hell for you since.

you weren’t exactly the shy type but jake sim was something else. not only would he blatantly flirt with you 24 hours a day but the man had a serious staring problem as well. sometimes you’d feel him watch you from across the room, other times he’d gawk at your legs like they were there for him to look at.

... which they sometimes were but he didn’t need to know that!

you’ve had to fight back so many times to not give in, to not give into his shameless advances... to not get on your knees for him because the last thing you wanted was to get involved with your roommate.

“why leave the comfort of our wonderful apartment, especially with the storm outside,” your roommate’s deep voice knocks you out of your thoughts, making you turn around to see him leaning against your door frame, “my offer stands, sweetheart.”

“i’d rather be out there in the storm than in here with you.”

“you know that’s a lie, you’d very much prefer to be here with me,” he laughs as he says so, mockingly. you watch as he gradually walks over to you, cornering you back against your table with that exact same annoying grin on his face from earlier.

your breath hitches when he leans in even closer, almost closing the very necessary gap between your bodies. you’re now very aware of his gaze’s direction and it’s not at your chest where it usually is, it’s at your lips. a smirk dawns his face at your tense reaction, the man obviously enjoying the effect his simple words has on you, “why are you so flustered roomie?”

“i’m not. now- now move. i need to go.”

he doesn’t say anything but is still fixated on your lips and it’s making you more nervous than ever. you just pray that he can’t hear how fast your heart is beating right now because you’d never be able to live that embarrassment down.

“can’t blame a man for trying.”

“you’re unbelievable sim,” you push up against him, sending the laughing man back a few steps as you hurry to grab your bag and leave the room before you do something you’d regret.

“sweetheart.”

you choke at the pet name, again, your feet stopping mid hallway almost immediately to his call. you know he’s behind you, his much taller frame so intimidating and presence one you can always feel from a mile away.

and that god damn cologne he uses. the one that always heightens your senses even when the owner isn’t around.

“what jake?”

“i have a better proposition,” his raised brows are enough to tell you that he’s up to nothing good, that his next few words are probably going to be something only jake sim would ever say. “let me eat you.”

what.

“w- what?”

“well you’re stressed and i wanna eat pussy,” he confesses so nonchalantly, like it’s the most normal thing to say to your roommate or to anyone for all that matters. “a distraction. stress relief. call it what you must.”

as ridiculous as he was, he had a point. a good one too.

noticing your lack of reaction, jake takes the chance to lift you up by the waist and throw you over his shoulders with ease. you’re screaming, startled at his sudden move but that only causes the man to laugh more.

“jake what are you AHH-”

your words turns into a squeal once he throws you onto your bed, your body bouncing amongst the pile of fluffy pillows. there’s no time for you to react because the man is already hovering over, his face now close to yours. his eyes are on your lips, as if silently asking for permission and for the first time since meeting him, this was the only time you wished he just went for it.

“jake-”

“although i can tell from your face that you want me to devour this pussy,” he says, followed by a satisfied grin, “i still got to ask, do you want me to?”

it was the first time seeing jake so serious, his tone and expression the complete opposite of how he usually was. he just never came across as someone who valued consent so much so this was a surprise. a good one.

maybe you had jake sim all wrong.

“i’ll leave right now if you want me to-”

“yes. so do something or i’ll change my mind.”

the instant change on his face is one you don’t miss, or rather can’t miss. it’s as if a switch went on in his mind, going right back to the jake you were so used to.

the pervert.

“relax sweetheart, let jake sim make you feel good.”

you watch as he moves down your body, quickly finding himself a comfortable spot in between your legs to settle in. despite how cold his fingers were on your skin, your body felt hot, every part of you is screaming and impatient for him to do something. literally anything.

“hm pink? how pretty,” he pushes your dress up as he coos, revealing your pink panties that were practically soaked right now.

but damn, what a day to be wearing a dress and cute panties. thank heavens for that.

your mind was too occupied with the fact that this was really happening to realise jake had already slipped your panties off, doing so with such ease. like an expert but are you really surprised?

“i know, i’m thaaaat good.”

you immediately roll your eyes at his non sense, like a habit. but you don’t have time to complain, now becoming very aware that you’re just lying here, pussy on full display to your roommate who’s a little too focused on your bareness for your liking.

it’s crazy how it happened. from wanting to stay away from him, turned into you wanting nothing BUT him.

“can- can you just hurry up sim?”

“patience baby girl. let me do my thing.”

“jake- oh fuck!”

his lips suddenly pressing onto your heat causes your brain to literally melt, everything immediately forgotten besides him. it felt so unbelievably good, your body feels as though it’s on cloud nine and he had barely done anything.

and true to his words, he really is thaaaaat good. to call him an expert pussy eater would’ve been about right but you’re never going to admit that to him. not with that big head of his.

but the way he’s licking you, that god like tongue, really is something you’ve never experienced.

“oh my god oh my god jake-”

“yeah you like that? you like it when i do this-” he kisses your core again, his tongue flicking just enough to get you whimpering and clutching the sheets. it was so evil of him, he knew exactly what he was doing to you and the man continued to do so, painfully slow.

he grips onto your thighs, holding them down harshly when you begin moving about. the grip allows him to shove his tongue even deeper inside of you, bringing you closer and closer to your end. everything was driving you insane. his hold, his mouth, his tongue, the noise... the man himself.

“i can tell you’re close. already,” you could feel him smirking into you as he spoke, as if pleased with himself, “go on, cum for me sweetheart.”

the use of that nickname, along with his quickened licks is what does it for you. whimpers and his name are the only two things on your own lips as you finally reach your high but instead of moving away, the man begins lapping at your juices...

and man what a sight that was.

you’re definitely remembering this scene for when you’re horny and alone later...

“you okay?” you can hear him ask, your mind still hazy and unable to process much at all. that was until his face pops into view again, the man having moved back up your body, hovering over, with his lips now slightly swollen and glistening from the scandalous activity a moment before.

“yeah... i’m okay.”

“you sure don’t look it,” he chuckles, amused by your dishevelled state, “with the way you reacted with just my mouth, i doubt you’ve ever been fucked properly. am i right?”

“well...”

“i can fuck you right sweetheart.”

your eyes almost pop out of your head, his words affecting you more than they should’ve.

silence then overtakes the bedroom as you both stare at each other but no one says a thing. there’s something noticeably different in his gaze, like he’s contemplating, like he’s conflicted and to be fair, you were weirdly feeling the same.

“fuck- can i kiss you?”

you don’t bother replying and lean forward yourself, slamming your lips onto his. the sudden move surprises the man, who looked completely startled, eyes wide. you find it adorable that someone like jake could be so caught off guard and you’re proud that it was because of you.

he finally kisses you back, with desperation, like he wants to taste every part of you. and you let him dominate. your hands find their way around his neck, wrapping around it in order to pull him down closer. it’s a move you definitely know he appreciates with how he’s smiling into the kiss.

“you’re so damn pretty-”

*ring ring ring*

the sound of his ringtone roars from somewhere on the bed, interrupting whatever he was going to say and whatever this might’ve led to. how quick he was to reach for it weirdly irked you the wrong way, irritating you for some reason.

“as much as i’d love to continue this,” the man says without looking at you, too busy with his phone to even see your changed expression, “jake sim has places to go. so the apartment is all yours for the night.”

and without another word, he leaves your bedroom, followed by the front door softly slamming. it takes you a moment to realise that he actually left, that he abandoned you. although he did technically do as promised, this wasn’t how you were expecting your night with jake sim to end.

with you left completely hot and bothered.

you don’t want to be mad, you had no right to, but you are.

without hesitation, you disregard the rest of your clothes and grab your own phone. you didn’t have too much experience with sexting but you knew how to entice a man like jake sim and this was definitely how.

it takes you a few moments to finally press that send button, knowing that you 100% will regret this later. but you couldn’t care less right now, you needed him. and as quick as that sent word appeared next to your raunchy image, the little seen word also appears... but no reply.

did he just... ignore your nudes?

a million things rush through your mind, like how you were going to face him from now on. oh the embarrassment. you could probably avoid him for awhile... but not forever.

“you’re so hot. can’t believe i almost missed this.”

“J-JAKE?” and to your surprise, standing at your bedroom door was none other than your hot roommate, who’s gawking at your naked body without shame, “d- didn’t you just leave?”

“i was going to but then these,” he reaches for something pink from his pocket, something very familiar to you, and dangles it from his finger, “i couldn’t stop thinking about you with these in my pocket.”

“you stole my panties? you’re such a perv sim!”

“i only perv on you sweetheart,” the man makes his way to you, one hand grasping the pink material while the other is now palming the obvious tent in his pants. the sight has you naturally rubbing your thighs together, something jake immediately noticed as well.

he doesn’t waste any time, quickly pulling his shirt over, letting you admire his toned torso that you’ve thought about way too often for your own good. and now that it was literally hovering over you, free to touch as pleased, you swore you almost came to the sight alone.

“the person you were sending those nudes to just then, is one lucky fucker.”

“w- what do you mean sim? i sent them to you.”

“uh no you didn’t sweetheart. you know someone else named jake sim cause i didn’t get them.”

“no... but... i do know someone else named... roommate...” your voice mumbles off as realisation hits you. like a truck. you had named both jake and your old roommate as roommate in your phone. something you forgot to change once he left.

that means...

*ring ring ring*

[INCOMING CALL: roommate]

“oh fuck.”

to be continued.

2023 © jongseongsnudes on TUMBLR. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE OR REPOST.

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chuluoyi · 4 months

Text

𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒏𝒐 !

- gojo satoru x reader

valentine's is around the corner and word has it that you're going on a date with geto...? no way! gojo is going to make sure that you're saying no! ever wonder how gojo finally gets you to become his? be prepared for a confession of a lifetime!

genre/warnings. crack, semi-failed love confession (it's gojo, what do you expect?), poor geto, and of course, fluff !!

notes. i genuinely love writing this :') loser gojo has always have a soft spot in my heart *sighs* i'd recommend listening to beautiful & because of you - beast (highlight) for this !!

a part of gojo's love entries and valentine's special !

Satoru doesn't really pay attention to holidays. To him, it's all the same—he can turn everyday into a holiday if he wanted to.

However, Valentine's Day is an exception. He knows it and is somewhat excited even. Why, you ask? Because this is the moment he has chosen. He's going to make you his on that very day.

He had everything planned out to perfection: skylit rooftop, bouquet of roses, eloquent speech (at least, he thought so). He was going to charm the pants out of you and it'd be a smooth-sailing event, he was sure of it!

At least until he heard that life-shattering gossip—

"I saw Geto-san asking her out for the 14th just now!"

"What?" he snapped his head in Haibara's direction, who was eagerly sharing with him and the others what he had allegedly heard, his eyes practically sparkling with excitement.

"Ehh, not bad," Shoko mused with a hint of amusement, casting a curious look his way. It was obvious she was enjoying this.

Nanami let out a thoughtful hum. "That's quite a surprise. I didn't think they'll go that fast."

"But how?!" Satoru suddenly exploded, grabbing Haibara by the collar. "How did that slimy bangs go from saying nothing to asking her out?!"

"O-oh Gojo-san! Don't squish me, please!"

And from then onwards, his focus was set: preventing you from falling into Suguru's grimy hands. Absolutely no way! He was so close already. He was on the cusp of winning your heart, and he knew it!

Now, you laughed at his jokes, you didn't ignore him as much, and you even asked him if he was okay after his recent mission! That was huge progress, even Satoru knew as much. And no, even if it was Suguru, he refused to hand you over to him.

On the 14th, you were going to be his... even if it cost him everything!

Gojo Satoru is annoying. You supposed you knew that already, but over these past few days, his ability to get on your nerves somehow had ascended to a wholly new level.

"I'm telling you, you should go with me! I'm going to take you somewhere amazing!" he practically demanded right up in your space, prompting you to let out a long-drawn sigh.

By all means, his attempts to woo you were all lame. He didn't know the first thing about being humble, and logically, you should have been more inclined to push him away.

‘Should’ being the operative word, because, somehow, over the past few weeks, you've started to see his antics as not just bearable but even endearing in a way. No one had ever pursued you with such relentless zeal before him, and it became increasingly difficult to overlook the way your heart fluttered in response to his (occasionally dubious) attempts to win you over.

So, right now, it really wasn't because you were playing hard to get. "Gojo, I've told you already. I can't on that day, I've already got plans," you sighed, exasperated.

He shot you a glance, his expression shifting into a brazenly raised eyebrow. "With Suguru?"

"How do you—"

"Tell him no," Satoru pressed, scowling. "Tell him I asked you first."

"In fact, he asked first—"

“Just say no!”

“No!”

"You're seriously going on a date with him?" he questioned, almost in disbelief. "And what, you're going to confess to him too?"

His tone didn't sit well with you, causing your irritation to rise. You frowned and retorted boldly, "And if I do? It's not like you can do anything about it anyway."

Wait, that actually hurts. Satoru was now irked too. Hadn't he shown enough for you to understand just how much of a big deal it was for him? Didn't you know he actually likes you so much that it made him toss and turn on some nights?

(No, you didn't really know. He just made himself look stupid most of the time. You were not that impressed.)

"As a matter of fact, I can," he began, expression turning into a slight sneer. "I can and I will if you still insist on going with him."

"Wha?"

"I'm going to crash your party so hard, you'll wish you hadn't gone behind my back. The audacity he has, trying to steal my girl!"

"You sound like a creep," you couldn't help blurting out, wide-eyed. "And I'm not your girl—"

"You—are quite heartless." His gaze on you behind that glasses hardened, and you were suddenly taken aback by how upset he looked. "I'm giving you my all—I think about you all day and night I think it's actually making me crazy!"

You stared at him, genuinely dumbfounded this time, realizing that somehow or another now, he was pouring his emotions out.

"Nothing I say will make sense to you, but whatever—" he exhaled sharply in frustration. "It's always you—in my mind. Compared to anyone else now, you're the prettiest. And if you were to ask me to pull a Blue on Ichiji right now, I'd probably do it! You see now—what you have done to me?"

"Ichiji? Gojo—!"

"You might think I did all of this for your attention, and yes, you’re right! That's how much you've messed with my head!"

. . .

Oh, now he had really gone and done it, hadn't he? He had laid it all bare, every last bit of it—the chaotic heap stacking up as his botched confession. And there were no roses, no rooftop, and none of the grandeur he had envisioned. This was so not how he wanted it to go at all.

Satoru grimaced, suddenly regretting this turn of events. He had seen it coming already—you calling him a total weirdo and then leaving him in the dust. Just the thought was enough to make his heart squeeze. Wanting to escape before it became a reality, he abruptly turned on his heel and walked away from you.

He barely made it a few steps away before he felt a firm tug on his arm.

"Wait! Gojo!"

You grabbed his arm tightly, forcing him to turn towards you. Satoru stubbornly refused to meet your gaze, his lips pressed into a massive pout. Yet, beyond that display of defiance, you could discern a hint of heartbreak splashed across his face, and it made your stomach churn.

Always trying to make you look at him. Always trying to get you to smile through his lame jokes. Making himself stupid on purpose. Frustrated when his feelings went unnoticed… All Gojo Satoru did thus far finally added up.

So it's true... he likes me this much...?

In that moment, warmth flooded through you. This idiot. Everyone said he was no good, but your heart couldn't help but leap, and a flurry of butterflies seemed to dance in your stomach.

In this instant, everything seemed to fall into place. Any doubt you might have melted away, leaving only a sense of certainty about your feelings. Everything just feels absolutely right.

"I'm not going on a date with Geto, you know."

"Huh?" Upon hearing that, he swiveled to face you, his gaze intensively searching your face for further explanation.

With a huff, you elaborated, "It's for my Grade One promotion mission. Geto-san asked to join me for it."

"But why? He doesn't need to—"

"He wants to tag along to absorb more cursed spirits, you see..."

"Oh, amassing new little friends, I see," Satoru quipped, face scrunching up distastefully.

His mood seems better now, you noted. You exhaled, your heart suddenly felt like it was pounding louder. "So, you've got the wrong idea. It sucks but my Valentine's day is going to be spent on a mission."

A beat passed by before he finally spoke again, still sheepish and avoiding eye contact. "I'm coming with you too, for that... mission or whatever."

You pressed your lips together, trying to ignore the warmth spreading across your face. "And?"

"And... huh?"

"That's all? Nothing else you want to add?"

And suddenly his eyes sparkled back to life. Beyond those ridiculous round glasses, his bright, yet steadfast eyes met yours with such vibrant shine it made your chest thump so hard and face flush with matching intensity.

Silly, silly boy... liking me so much that he turns stupid.

"Actually, I've got plenty more to say!"

With an indignant snort, you released his arm. "Well, I'm waiting. Because what you just said before has to be the most underwhelming confession I've ever heard."

"Wha? Hey! That wasn't my confession! Just you wait, I'll do it over, and this time, I'll make you swoon so hard you'll forget how Suguru's face looks like!"

And on the night of February 14, he truly surpassed himself once again in making a terrible confession, and yet it still signified the day you truly became his—the beginning of your life together, which along the way, would be filled with more shenanigans, endless laughter and of course, love.

Epilogue

"Haibara, I really thought you're the most sensible here! I can't believe you!"

Suguru massaged his temples with utter grievance. So this was the cause of his headache and constant death stares Satoru gave him these past few days—the three people gathering in front of him!

"I've told you already, Nanami—Gojo is really going through with it," Shoko cackled with utter satisfaction. "Now, pay up."

"Ieiri-san... sigh— from now on, I'm not participating in your bets anymore."

Haibara, who went with Shoko's suggestion to incite this, sheepishly laughed. "Ehe, Geto-san, all that ends well is well though, no?"

"Satoru was really about to skin me alive! Ugh, and you almost ruined my date too..."

"Eh? Date?" All three sets of eyes suddenly fixed on him in utter astonishment. "Who?"

-> continue to 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 (with geto suguru—soon!)

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papercorgiworld · 6 months

Text

The day after the dare

Mattheo Riddle an Theo Nott

After being dared to steal their clothes the previous night, it’s not that strange they bring you a similar visite.

Warning: piv, unprotected, oral sex

! Mattheo’s version is a bit longer and sweeter, while I wrote a bit of rougher Theo version.

Picture source: https://pin.it/4HBHs0yxy

Honestly I don’t know what to think about this, but some of you were curious to find out what happened next, so happy readings.

This is part two, read part one here: “I dare you to steal his clothes.”

Mattheo Riddle

You open the door of the shower stall and reach for your towel. You dap the water of your face and body, while a frown forms on your face. “Where-“ You mutter to yourself but are immediately interrupted. “Looking for these, love?” Your head turns towards a grinning Mattheo with his hand raised and your panties dangling on his finger. “Riddle!” He smirks and takes a few steps in your direction. “Better, daddy.” He slips your panties in his pocket. You bite your lip and shake your head. This was to be expected after what you did.

“Are you really this desperate for me, Riddle?” He snorts and stops only inches from you. “You’re desperate for me.” You smile playfully. “You sure?” You ask as you meet his lustful eyes with your teasing ones. You drop your towel and as soon as Mattheo hears it drop his eyes fall down. His breath hitches and he swallows, while loosening his tie. His eyes scan your body like he’s never seen a female before and his dick twitches in his pants. “I’ll have you calling me mommy in no time.” You mock referring to what he said last night. His eyes snap up to yours and he wants to close the last bit of space between you, but you stop him and push him back.

His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he tries to behave, but he can’t help but scan your body. He needs to touch you. “My panties please.” You ask with an innocent voice. Disappointment and confusion fill his eyes but you just tilt your head urging him to do as you ask. Reluctantly he takes your panties out of his pocket and you lift your leg a little. He gets the hint and drops to his knees slipping on your panties. His forehead rests against your belly as he pulls up your panties until they cover your beautiful pussy. The growing bulge in his pants starts to feel constrained and painfully hard. So close, but not allowed to touch you. Even worse, dressing you, covering what he so badly wanted to adore. This was inhumane torture.

Mattheo’s face when he’s dressing you instead of fucking you.

“My bra please.” Was the only thing you say and Mattheo rolls his eyes, but gets up and reaches for it. You turn around and he slips on your bra, gently stealing a touch from your breasts. His breath is on your neck as he works to clasp your bra. Clearly, something he hadn’t done before. “Why are you making me do this? You want me and I want you. So let's just stop playing games and fuck.” Mattheo says through gritted teeth and you let out a laugh. “And they say romance is dead, I wonder why?” He huffs. “Who cares about romance? I know your cunt is soaking wet. You need my cock, princess. You’ve seen it, you know it will fill you nicely.” He presses your back against his chest and his hand lingers dangerously close to your pussy. You could feel his hard member through the fabric of his pants. You let your head slightly rest on his shoulder.

You knew that if he would touch you, you would be underneath him in no time. You had managed to escape him once and up until now you had been winning this round as well. Mattheo places soft kisses under your ear, covering your neck, near the bruise he had left yesterday. You groan, summoning every bit of self control. “You’re cute, Riddle, but you’re also trouble.” You want to push yourself free off his arms but he tightens his grip on you. “You can’t keep doing this, love, you can’t resist me forever.” With those words he lets go of you and walks out, leaving you in your lingerie. He was right and you knew it, he was driving you mad with desire.

You wanted him, if you saw him again you might just come undone on the spot, so your plan was to avoid him for the rest of the day, preferably the week. However, around midday you came to a rather annoying discovery. Mattheo stole your wand. Your sexual frustration pooled over to general frustration and before you knew it you were marching on the quidditch pitch. “Where is Riddle?” You bark. Enzo looks shocked and points towards the changing rooms. “He’s in there, but he’s in the-“ You’re too far gone to hear what Enzo says. You storm in and scan the room, when Mattheo appears from the showers. “We really need to stop meeting like this.” Mattheo says with a smug smile. “You stole my wand!” He licks his lip and tilts his head. “Maybe.”

He takes a few steps towards you and you can’t help but take in the view. Damn, why did he have to be so fine? “Fuck it.” You almost jump in his arms, wrapping yours around his neck and kissing him with a sweet hunger. He doesn’t need a moment to process: he’s immediately on you. Kissing you back, fighting for dominance, while simultaneously squeezing your ass and taking off your jacket. You’re both acting like starved animals. You reach for his hardening dick and jerk him until he’s fully hard, dripping with precum. Mattheo continues kissing you with rough passion pushing you into a wall and kneading your breasts.

When you fall to your knees he needs to rest his hands against the wall for support. He drops his head and watches your pretty face as you slowly take his cock in your mouth. “(Y/n), princes, you’re so beautiful.” Even though your mouth is full with Mattheo you can’t help but smile a little at his soft compliment. You start licking and sucking his hard shaft while softly squeezing his balls. He strokes your hair and watches you intensely, hoping you’ll look up to him so he can stare into your shiny eyes, but he doesn’t dare ask, afraid he’ll sound too desperate for you.

His breathing gets more messy with every lick or twist you give his length, making you eager to take more of him in your mouth. “I’m close.” Mattheo whispers through heavy breaths. His jaw clenches when he feels your mouth leave his dick. “My wand?” You ask with a stern face as you gently jerk his saliva covered cock. Mattheo growls and rolls his eyes in frustration. “I don’t have it. You must have lost it somewhere.” You let go of his dick and stand up facing him with annoyance. “But you said-“ He pushes your body against the wall, kissing you with rough passion. “I said maybe.” Afraid that you’ll again leave him with a rock hard cock and just his hand, he glides down, his eyes never leaving yours.

You’re definitely not pleased with his little lie, but the heat pooling between your legs and his pretty face going down on you kept you silent and still. A smirk grows on Mattheo’s face seeing your attitude shift now that he’s so close to your cunt. He makes quick work of your panties and lifts your leg over his shoulder. His face disappears underneath your skirt, you feel his warm breath between your legs and his fingers gently explore your folds before digging in as he places soft kisses. Your fingers intertwine with his curls as you search for some much needed support. When you gently buck your hips into his face and soft moans leave your lips, Mattheo feels like he’s been invited to devour your pussy. His fingers slip out, but now it feels like his tongue and lips sink into you. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs as he keeps you close to him. You scream his name so loud you worry if anyone outside might’ve heard you. Mattheo on the other hand couldn’t care less who hears you and continues to feast on your wetness.

When your legs get shaky and your moans turn into heated cries Mattheo reluctantly pulls away from your now glinstering pussy. He runs a hand over his mouth before straightening himself to meet your face. Whining noises leave your lips as you lean on the wall behind you for support worried that your legs might give in and afraid Mattheo will leave you like this. “Don’t look so baffled, love, you started this game.” Involuntary a desperate sound leaves you and Mattheo leans in with a grin. “You’re lucky I’m generous.” He whispers as he places his hands on your hips. As much of a mess as you are at this point, you still roll your eyes. “Don’t pretend to be selfless, Mattheo.” He just chuckles at your pretentiousness and places a soft kiss on your lips, before grabbing his dick and teasing your folds, earning a soft yelp from you.

You wrap your arms around Mattheo and he eagerly pulls you close as he slowly lets your cunt swallow his thick shaft. Once he’s fully inside, you throw your head back and Mattheo takes in the view for a moment. He’s caught by surprise when you suddenly place your lips on his and kiss him with a longing passion. He loves your lust for him, so returns your passion with a mix of roughness and love before pounding into you at a steady pace.

Your fingers dig into his shoulder and scull as he dick starts hitting your spot perfectly. Your mouth hangs agape while you moan his name through unsteady breaths. It takes every bit of self control for Mattheo to not just spill inside of you with all of those pretty noises coming from you. His desire for you grows and makes him tear the buttons of your shirt so he can slip down your bra and adore your breasts. “So fucking pretty, you should be mine.” He growls and the view of him staring full of lust at your perked nipples pushes you over the edge. Your walls clench around his dick and he quickly and selfishly chases his own high as you ride yours out, overstimulating your pussy. “Fuck me a few more times like that and I’ll be yours, Riddle.” You whisper in his ear, making his eyes sparkle with eagerness.

Theodore Nott

You step out of the shower stall and look around confused, searching for your clothes, before spotting Theo’s figure lounging on a bench with your panties on top of his face. “I thought I would do the decent thing and cover my eyes, which is more than you did yesterday evening.” You roll your eyes. “Are you here to take revenge and steal my clothes?” He gets up and wants to answer your question but when he sees your naked body, since you hadn’t bothered to cover yourself, he falls silent. He can’t pull his eyes away from your body, it's like he’s being pulled towards you. “I thought that maybe we could reach some kind of agreement, I don’t want to end up in a war of stealing clothes.” He explains, but his true motivation for staying is obvious for you to see. “Feeling a little constrained?” You ask as you close the distance and rest your hand on his member. You can feel how hard it is through the fabric.

“You have no idea.”

“You have no idea.” Theo says with a darkness in his voice that sets a fire in you. “So, let’s pick up where we left off last night.” You bite your lip at his offer. “Is there anything in it for me?” Theo smirks and you immediately regret going along with his play. “Does your soaking cunt want my cock? Want to be stretched out by me?” His arrogance does a number on your core. “Is that why you didn't play last night, because your needy pussy wasn’t getting any attention?” Your frustration gets the better of you and you push him back, making him stumble on the bench he was laying on before. As soon as he’s seated you hover over his lap, while working on his belt. He’s surprised by your dominance but lets you pull his pants down just enough for his dick to show. You let out a moan as you are reminded of its size. Theo takes your moment of shock to slip a finger between your folds and you grab a hold of his shoulders. “You’re so dumb and needy for me.” He circles your clit and you let out a soft whimper.

You push your breasts forwards and Theodore happily digs in sucking your hard nipples, earning more soft noises from you. Without warning Theo slips his fingers out of you and grabs your hips. With one harsh trust he’s inside of you. The sudden full feeling has you crying and moaning out of pain and pleasure. Theo just watches your shaking body as he licks the remainder of your juices off of his fingers. You hide your face in the crook of his neck. “You’re such a spoiled brat, wanting things you can’t handle.” You bite his neck in response, but Theo isn’t pleased with that. “You better start bouncing on my cock or I’ll leave you like you did last night.” You pull your face from his neck and scan his eyes. You really didn’t want him to leave, he had you feeling way too good. So you drop your attitude and start bouncing. Theo’s hand rests on your hips supporting and guiding you as your perfect cunt takes his whole dick. Your bouncing boobs are heaven to him, but he can’t help himself from staring at your beautiful face.

As you feel your orgasm nearing you rest your head against Theo’s and he starts working your hips, so your orgasm can wash over you. “You look so pretty when you come.” Theo whispers in your ear with a sincere softness that has you falling in love on the spot. He gives you a soft peck on the cheek and continues to fuck you until reaches his climax.

“Who knew you could be so good to me?” Theo taunts as he leans against a wall phanting with you still on top of him. You groan. “I’m never going to hear the end of this am I.” He licks his bottom lip. “That will teach you to never steal from me again.” You roll your eyes and he tucks a few lost hairs behind ear. “How about we do this again and I’ll keep quiet.” You look up at his suggestion. Maybe.

A/N: As always feedback is welcome. If a sentence hurts your brain, let me know and save an innocent reader from the same fate.

#slytherin #slytherin boys #theodore nott #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott x reader #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #papercorgiworldwritings

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welcometomyoasis · 4 months

Text

Seventeen's reaction to their s/o appearing on going seventeen

Synopsis: how the seventeen members would react to you, their s/o, making a sudden guest appearance on going seventeen. Svt x gn! reader | idol au, est. relationship, fluff | 1.25k words | warnings: minor injury | requested by anon A/n: for the sake of this headcanon, their relationship would have already been made public

ଓ༉ He’s suspicious, and immediately asks if this is some sort of weird punishment

Jeonghan, Joshua, Wonwoo, Woozi, Minghao, Vernon

➺ As you approach him, he smiles and welcomes you with open arms though his guard is definitely up. Not that he’s not extremely happy that you made a sudden appearance but why are you here? He wonders what you are up to and why do you look so smiley? You have a dangerous glint in your eye that even he is cautious of.

➺ He wonders what game the gose staff are going to make them play. Are you his opponent? Or a potential collaborator. What’s the catch with this game? The stakes have to be high if you’re here. His mind is running a million miles per minute, going through every single moment of all the previous gose episodes to see what stupid remark they made could have possibly led to this moment right now. And mind you, there were a lot of stupid remarks.

➺ He knows he won’t get any information out of you. So he turns to eye all the staff members suspiciously, watching carefully for any and all behavioural changes, like a lion watching its prey. None of the staff members can meet his eyes. They are all terrified of his serious, accusatory, analytical gaze.

➺ That said, once the gose staff announce that no, your sudden appearance is not punishment. In fact, it’s a reward for doing well on a previous gose episode, his behaviour does a 180 degree change almost instantaneously. He becomes all smiley and he will nod approvingly at you for being the most amazing reward he’s ever gotten on this god forsaken show (Jeonghan and Joshua would coo at you, just try and change my mind). He then vows to take out all the other members during this game. With you by his side, on his team, there’s no way he won’t win. He’ll be unstoppable. He’s going to win. He chuckles evilly, already scheming. The rest of the members cower in fear. They are not going home in one piece today are they?

➺ Bonus: Jeonghan’s first reaction would be “ahhh why did you call y/n in? Is this to punish me because I keep cheating? I told you I don’t cheat, I just don’t exactly play by all the rules.” Then, when he realises you’re on his team. He cheats even more. You’ll understand right? He wants to win for you!

ଓ༉ He’s excited because maybe for once he can win a game during gose

Junhui, Mingyu, Dokyeom

➺ He’s in shock when you walk onto set in front of the camera. His jaw drops and you can see the gears turning in his head. When it finally sinks in that you are the guest star of gose today, he screams and whoops for joy. He’s running up to you, hugging you and fake crying, whining to you how much he suffers during gose. But you knew that already don’t you? That’s why you’re here, to help him and protect him from those bad ol’ games and the rest of the members.

➺ As the staff explain what’s going to happen during this gose episode, whether it’s physical games or some version of the mafia game, he’s looking over at you. He’s trying his best to telepathically send you signals through his eyes. His eyes are wide, like they are about to pop out of their sockets. No one else really knows what he’s trying to tell you, though it seems like you do because you’re smiling at him adoringly and nodding your head. (Actually, he was just telling you that you two should team up haha).

➺ You see, he knows that you’re super protective over him. Look at him, how could you say no to that face. He gets bullied one time and he’s sulking and cowering like a kicked puppy/ cat by your side. In an instant, you’re on your feet stalking menacingly to pick a fight with whoever bullied him. Even Jeonghan isn’t safe from you. While you’re busy beating up lecturing that member, he’s standing behind and holding your hand, looking at the rest of the members smugly. Did they think they could get away with bullying him on your watch? If they did, they were sorely mistaken.

➺ At the end of the episode, the staff are announcing that your team is the winner. He’s going to be cheering so loudly and thanking you, saying that you’re his lucky charm since he was finally able to win during an episode of gose. 100% will pester the staff after to let you keep coming back.

➺ Bonus: If you’re playing some ball game or a more physical game, the 3 members will hide behind you. It doesn’t matter that they are all above 1.79m tall. They will use you as a human shield.

ଓ༉ He feels an intense sense of foreboding

Seungcheol, Soonyoung, Seungkwan, Dino

➺ You know the phrase Arnold from the magic school bus always says? “I knew I should have stayed home today”. Yea, that’s his first reaction. He literally groans when the staff introduces you as the special guest. You can see his eyes widen, his breathing hitches, and the colour drains from his face. You collaborating with the gose staff? That’s probably not a good sign right? Especially when he hears the cheers of the rest of the members.

➺ The thing with these 4 members. Seungcheol’s the leader and Dino is the youngest so bullying them is fair game. Soonyoung and Seungkwan have too much beef during gose with the rest of the members. In other words, they have been targeted for this gose episode and there is no way they can escape.

➺ He knows he is doomed. Any hope that you will be on his team is dashed when the staff announce that you will be playing against him. He literally falls to his knees dramatically begging for a chance. It doesn’t matter what type of game it is. He can’t win against you.

➺ As fans watch expectantly to see why he’s doomed, they think it’s because you know him and you’re able to outsmart him. He wishes that was the reason but no. In reality, he’s a whipped boyfriend for you. You have him twirled around your little finger. It seems like the members used his weakness against him. He sees how excited you are to win, your little cheers, your happy little dance. All you need to do is smile at him and he’s fawning all over you. He’s cooing, telling you it’s okay that you want to win. His love for you is stronger than his competitive nature. He’ll accept defeat, he’ll let you win. His self-preservation goes out the window. Just this once. And only because it’s you. Make no mistake though, he vows to take revenge when the rest of the members least expect it. He will make them suffer for humiliating him.

➺ Bonus: Soonyoung tries to cute his way out of losing against you. He’s doing every trick in the book, horanghaeing, rawring, fake crying. It doesn’t work. He fails instantly when you shake your head and harumph, turning away from him. Then he’s immediately on his knees begging you not to ignore him. Is he a tiger? No. Hamster? No. Whipped boyfriend for you? Yes.

taglist: @weird-bookworm @wonijinjin @babyleostuff @wishing-fieshes @kwanienies @mayashu @megseungmin @porridgesblog @haecien @mirxzii @scoupsofcherries @eightlightstar @brownsugarbaybee @zaggprincess2 @nonononranghaee

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grippingbeskar · 1 year

Text

small favours

— joel miller x fem!reader

— warnings: explicit content minors dni, smutttt, dirty talk, very minimal plot sorry not sorry, swearing, needles, mention of injuries/cuts

— a/n: happy tlou release week!! this is set in jackson between the first and second game, i wrote the first part before i saw the show but just imagine with me okay. and it’s literally just bc i saw joel in that denim shirt and went yeah… i wanna fuck him in that. lmao. also dedicated to @everybirdfellsilent because we have been waiting for this show for so long and it’s finally here and oaoxosoxosox. wow.

You hadn’t asked for much.

It was a simple fix, you were sure of it. Yes, you don’t know anything about how to fix hinges, nor do you have any clue about how you broke it in the first place. Either way, it’s just a few screws and a metal piece, so was it really that hard to find five minutes to fix it?

Leading another one of the horses into the stable, you pointedly step over the gate that now lays on the floor, too heavy for you to move it. The horse tramples it, of course, which is why you had asked for someone to come and fix it before the horses were brought back in from patrol. Clearly, no one gave a shit about your question, but you know they’d all be the first to complain if it was their horse that got out through a broken gate.

It was late now, anyways. Too late for you to get anyone out, and even with the safety of Jackson’s walls keeping you blocked off from the outside world, being out at night still freaked you. When you finally got the horse in your hand settled and fed, you promptly sat yourself on the floor of the stable. Without the front gate, it wasn’t safe to leave the horses alone. With your luck, they’d get spooked and run all the way through town, and the last thing you needed was more reason for the people in here to look at you.

It wasn’t that you weren’t liked— you just kept to yourself. This life was hard enough as it is, and you didn’t see the point in making friends when in five years this place would probably be full of strangers. People die every day out here, you knew that too well. You wanted to save yourself the heartache wherever you could.

All that anti social behaviour certainly didn’t win you any favours though— hence the still broken door. You loved it— you were good with horses, having lived in a farm before the outbreak, so you decided to volunteer to help in the stables, but it was hard work sometimes. It kept you busy enough, though, and horses never wanted to make conversation, so… win-win.

There was only one problem with working in here. Truthfully, it wasn’t so much as a problem and more of a chronic condition. At least, that’s the way it felt every time Joel Miller made some kind of appearance. Most people just left the horses tied up out front for you to take care of, but Joel seemed to enjoy the peace the stable provided— that and you never talked much, which seemed to work for him. On the days he’d come back from patrol, the two of you would share a few hushed conversations as you worked and he hid from the rest of Jackson, and then you’d fall into a comfortable silence, sometimes for hours at a time.

Weeks had passed like this, and every single day you got a little bit more interested in who the man really was, other than his clear infatuation with his horse. Right when he came in would be the time you talked the most, after about forty minutes it would get too busy and you’d work until the sun set. But those forty minutes started to stretch a little longer, and he seemed to gain interest in you, too. Maybe you were grasping at straws, but hearing Joel’s low voice rumble a few more words every time he spoke to you was doing wonders for your self esteem, and even you couldn’t deny the way your face warmed when he smiled at you.

“Hey, you still— damn. What happened here?” Joel calls from the gaping hole that is the stable door, and only because it’s his voice calling you do you look up.

“It’s been broken all day. I asked someone to fix it, but…” You shrug, sighing and leaning your head back on the small gate that was the only thing holding the horse behind you from leaping out down the main street. “I guess they had other shit to do. I can’t move it on my own.”

Joel considers you for a second, how your frame is backed against the gate, conveniently placed at the closest point to the open door. Then, he looks back to the door on the ground, and back up to you. He smirks.

“So you were plannin’ on sitting in here all night?” The weight of the day makes your shoulders slump forward, and for the first time you really consider your plan. “You gonna body check a horse when he makes a run for it?”

“Okay, it was a dumb plan. But, it’s that or let them all out and get stuck cleaning up the bar floor or something.” He smiles again, the setting sun behind him washing over his shoulders in a pretty orange colour. A tilt of his head in your direction has you standing up, taking the lead of his horse that he offers to you.

“You take him, I’ll go get my tools. Fix it up before sun down.” Before you can protest or tell him he doesn’t have to, he’s walking off to the right up the hill where his house sits.

You’d always been a bit jealous of the spot his house is. It’s far away enough from everyone that you get some real privacy, but close to the stables if you need a quick exit. He had a porch, too. One you spent a little too much of your time staring at during your work hours, when he spent his off days strumming a guitar right in your line of sight. He was just… peaceful to observe. He brought a calm to you that no one else seemed to be able to do, almost enough that you could forget about the world outside and just exist in that little bubble for a while.

You lead Joel’s horse inside, hearing it trample the door again, and hang up his saddle next to the stable. Joels horse is much like him— quiet unless provoked. You found it out the hard way when you first led it in with a routinely aggressive horse, thinking it’s demeanour would calm him down. The next morning you woke up to two very angry horses and a half bent gate of steel.

“Saved you your favourite spot.” You say to his horse, Old Beardy. You never asked how Joel picked the name, but for some reason it worked so well— at least, he was definitely older than most. “See? He’s right up there.”

The stable at the back was angled just right so that the small window at the height of a horses head pointed directly towards Joel’s porch. Not close enough to see anything other than the outside, but enough that you know it’s there. You don’t come in here often, Joel always taking his own horse in, but when you do you can’t help but notice the instant calming effect it has on Beardy— you might have more in common with this horse than half the people in Jackson.

When you find your way back to the front, Joel’s footsteps are trudging back down the hill. You’ll be fairly useless as anything other than company while he fixes the door, but you can’t seem to stop your heart from racing a million miles a minute as he gets closer and closer. Yes, he makes you forget about everything on the outside, but that’s mainly due to how insane he drives you. All those conversations in the stables and too long looks in town are just all too consuming, and now, when you see him come into sight, you have to put some physical difference between him and you.

“You don’t have to, Joel. Really, I’m sure someone’ll—“

“No, they won’t. Knowin’ the people around here, you’ll be sleepin’ on the floor till next year.” He bends down, and you drop yourself back to the floor and stare in some kind of mesmerised silence as he runs his hands over the broken hinges of the door.

In a few passing thoughts you’d never admit to yourself, you have an obsession with his hands. He was just so…capable. He could do so many things so easily— and some kind of backward wire in your brain fizzled with electricity at the sight of him in his element. He starts fiddling with tools, first starting to remove the broken hinge, muscles flexing as he tears off the old bolts.

“What happened?” He says, the words muffled by the screwdriver in his mouth.

“I have no clue. When I woke up this morning it was blown in. I spent a good hour trying to move it but it’s so—“ With one arm, he pulls it up to stand vertical, a fist wrapping around the edge of the gate. It doesn’t even look like he tried. “—heavy.”

“Come ‘ere and hold it straight.” He says, keeping one arm out in front of him, the other still holding the door up. “I won’t let it fall. Come on.”

“Like this?” You say, staring down at him as you finally reach the door and take a little bit of the weight. He flicks his eyes up, nodding and shifting on his knees to get a better angle on the door.

“Perfect.” He says softly, looking up at you for another split second before clearing his throat and screwing on a new hinge.

“You really didn’t have to do this, but thank-you.” Joel shakes his head, his fingers fiddling with a latch.

“Least I can do. Everyone should be up here helpin’ you anyways.” He stands up, and with only a barrier the width of a gated door, you can feel his body heat keeping you warm when he towers over you. “Keep holding it still.”

“Yeah.” You manage, eyes fluttering closed. “People help, though.”

“Oh, I bet.” He says, sarcasm dripping off his words as he laughs dryly.

“They do! Sometimes… I mean, it’s not their fault. I’m kind of a hermit up here. I don’t really make an effort, so I can’t blame them.” He stops working, his knuckles white over the railing of the gate, and looks to you.

“You’ve trained all these new horses to track better than those guys ever could. They’d die out there without ‘em. Carl doesn’t know his left from right— he got lost eight times last patrol. It’s cause of your horses he got back safe.” Joel’s face is more serious, his eyes sharp but still with a hint of softness that he often looks at you with. “Doesn’t matter if you ain’t makin’ friends. This ain’t middle school, and people should be helpin’ you no matter what. Least of all fixing a door.”

“That’s why I keep you around, Joel.” You smile lightly, his voice getting lower the angrier he gets.

“Good. You tell me next time, and I’ll come round and help. Avoid the whole town all together.” You hum, letting go of the gate as he hauls it up in the air and shuffled backward, setting it against the hinges. “How do you know so much about horses?”

“I lived on a farm, way back when. Besides, they’re easy to navigate once you get to know them.” Joel puts the screwdriver back in his mouth, and you can’t help but stare at him. The small scars on his face, peppered around his cheeks. Some are older, worn and faded, while the one across his nose is new. It’s not even scarred yet, still fresh

“You okay?” He says softly, tilting his head.

“Your face.” His eyebrows furrow, and you shake your head. “Sorry. You… did something happen on patrol? You have a cut—“

“Just a few clickers. Real old, hauled up in a caravan out west. Nothing we couldn’t handle.” The door drops into place, and he swings it out towards him. It sounds less squeaky than it usually did. “Good as new.”

“You should clean it.” You say, worry edging in your voice. “If it was clickers.”

“I’m fine.” He shrugs it off.

“Come on. It’s the least I can do. I have a first aid kit in the back, and then we can call it even.” He relents, locking the door behind him and stepping further into the stables. “Sit. I’ll get the kit.”

“Yes, ma’am.” You can hear a small smirk on his voice, and you roll your eyes, turning around to find the kit. “Why you got a first aid kit in here anyways?”

“You’re using it now, aren’t you?” You turn around, raising your eyebrows. “You’d be surprised how many people come here before going to medical. I started to stock up a little, do what I can. It’s not much, but I can clean it off and do some botched stitches until they see a real doctor.”

“And none of those guys came up to fix the god damn door?” He was getting angry again, and you tried to ignore the shiver that went up your spine when he spoke like that.

He was sitting on a small stool, putting him about waist height. When you stepped closer, shuffling your feet on the floor, he tilted his head up. His open legs invited you closer, nearly drawing you in with a magnetic field he was completely unaware of.

Armed with a cotton ball and disinfectant, your fingers were light enough to breeze along his jaw to hold him in place. He stares up at you, watching your eyes as they flit between the cut on his nose and his wandering gaze. His face is warm when you work up the courage to place your palm on his cheek, thumb gently smoothing over the salt and pepper flecks of his beard. He doesn’t flinch away when you press the cotton ball to his face, swiping across the bridge of his nose.

“Does it hurt?” You whisper, feeling the need to keep your voice low.

“No.” He does the same, the heat of his body making you shuffle slightly closer. His hands are in fists on his knees, like he’s straining to keep himself still. “Told you it was fine.”

“And I told you I wanted to help.” When you’re satisfied with the results, you take a fresh cotton pad and dry it up. “You might need stitches. It’s deep.”

“Go on.” He says, and you lean back, eyes wide.

“You want me to stitch your face together?”

“Good practise, and I trust you.” The simple words have your heart slamming against your rib cage, but instead of showing it you kneel in between his legs and search the contents of the kit for a needle.

“If I mess up your face, you knew what you signed up for.” When you find what you’re looking for, you straighten, Joel’s face is right in front of you. It takes you a second to realise just how close he is, and the position isn’t lost on him either. It’s probably the most emotive you’ve seen him, his jaw going tight from how hard he’s biting down.

“It’s already messed up. You’re fine.” He manages, his voice strained.

“Hold still.” Whispering the words, you lean closer and bring the needle to his skin. His eyes close, and it’s when you press the point into his nose that his hands shoot out in front of him, holding your hips gently.

“Sorry. Shit—“

“It’s fine. Are you okay?” He grunts in a way you think is affirming, so you keep threading the needle. You only need one stitch for a spot this small. “Your face isn’t messed up.”

“Huh?”

“It’s not. Messed up.” You feel his thumbs stroke along the bone of your hip just once before he stills again. You tie off the stitch, and his eyes open. “There. You’re pretty again.”

Your breathing was rapid even though you didn’t have a true reason for it, but neither of you moved. His hands— strong and so fucking capable, holding you still on your knees in front of him. His eyes were pools, inviting you in with a gleam of something shiny, and where you were nearly gasping he was calm and collected. In his element, like he was right where he should be.

The whole stable was a dull orange now, the colours dusting through the strands of Joel’s hair. It’s never really sitting right, wind whipping it out of control on patrol, but you have the urge to run your hands through it anyway. You let yourself explore one small piece of him, like he has to you, and your fingertips run back over the shell of his ear, tangling in his hair. He sucks in a short breath, leaning into the hold of your hand.

“Joel.” You say, voice so soft he would of never heard you if you weren’t so close, but you call for him and he leans closer. Your foreheads nearly touch, and his hands tighten their hold on you.

“Thank you, darlin’.” You sigh deeply, unable to keep yourself upright at the nickname. It rings through you, his accent strong and adding an entire other layer to why he’s so easy to fall into. You don’t even really notice how dark it’s gotten— you usually have sprinted home by now. But Joel’s here, and with him this close, you can’t think of anything else. He leans closer, and your eyes flutter closed.

“Can I kiss you?” He says, the brush of his lips against yours sending a tidal wave of need from your head to your feet.

“Only if you hurry up.” You answer helplessly, voice cracking, and he smiles against you and finally brings his mouth to yours.

It’s anything but calm. That peaceful energy of the stables is completely shattered and sorted into something electrical and sizzling. He yanks you forward, bodies pressing together as you use the leverage of your hand fisted in his hair to kiss him harder and deeper. It doesn’t take long before his tongue is swiping along your bottom lip, seeking permission.

You let him in— you’d let him do whatever he asked for if he kept pouring himself into you like this. He tasted good, which should be impossible but when you’ve been starved of something for this long it doesn’t matter what he does it’s just that he’s giving it to you. He moves his hands to the small of your back, pressing your hips right in the middle of his open legs, his other hand on the back of your head.

You feel him groan when you press together, the sound waking up parts of you that had been dormant for far too long. It was like he had access to each nerve in your body, and every little sound or touch had them blaring red and sparking.

“Fuck, darlin’. Come closer.” He groans into your mouth before kissing you again. You smile for a moment, not entirely sure how you could get any closer, and then it’s wiped off when he hauls you upward, hooking your legs around his waist on the stool. “Yeah. Right here.”

Your arms cling around his neck, his own searching up and down your body. Your shirt rides up with the movements and you moan every time he grazed along your skin. There’s something equally hard and soft about his hands— rough from years of work but soft with the way they hold you up, how they’re careful not to dip too low or high. You arch your back, giving him wordless permission, and he groans into your mouth again.

At some point you have to breath— both of you gasping for air in the quiet of the darkened stables. He brings his hands to your face, holding you against his forehead so he can look into your eyes. He was smiling too— like actually smiling, not that half smirk you’ve seen so often.

“What are we doin’?” He laughs, kissing you again.

“I don’t know, but can we keep going somewhere that doesn’t smell like horse shit?” You whisper and he laughs again. It’s sounds so good— like the sound of the beginning of your favourite song. It makes your heart sing, melting you into the tune. “Please, Joel. I really want…”

“Tell me, baby.” He moves, angles your head with swift moves of his fingers so he can kiss you lower. Under your jaw, and then he drags his mouth down, along your neck, teeth nipping softly… “Fuck knows I wanna hear you say it.”

“You. I really want you.” He hums against your skin, one arm hooking under your ass as he stands easily. You squeal, muffling the sound in the mop of hair on his head. As you walk outside, there’s only a few people still mulling around, and they turn their heads towards you when they hear your soft laughter mixed with Joel’s— two sounds that seem to alarm them more than clickers.

For the first time since you’d been here, you really don’t care if people are looking at you, or what they’re saying. When Joel locks the gate behind you and slides you down his chest to let your feet touch the floor, you are reminded once again of his ability to remove every single thought from your mind except him. Just him, and his hands on your hips, spinning you around and leading you up the hill towards his house. How every so often he’ll bend down, pressing his lips lightly to the back of your neck, and how you can feel his smile on your skin.

He guides you easily, your body on auto pilot to his small gestures, and when you finally rush up the few steps of his porch— one you’ve spent way too much time staring at from afar, you’re both attached to each others face like horny teenagers. He fumbles with the doors lock, jamming keys with aggressive force while his other hand stays soft and sweet on your waist, holding you against him. When the door gives out behind you he never lets you stumble, taking you in his stride with practised precision. You’ve seen the inside of his house, but never the layout, so as he guides you blindly through the hallway, your shut eyes and occupied mouth never see it coming when you fall backwards onto a bed.

“Let me take this off.” He mumbles against your lips, tugging at your shirt and jacket. In a tangle of limbs you both shove at the material, finally hooking it over your head. He presses you flat against the mattress again, hanging over you and running his hands up and down your sides in long, soothing strokes. “God damn gorgeous.”

“Your turn.” The blaze in his eyes dulls slightly at your comment, and he just bends to kiss you again. He links your hands in his own, pulling you away from where they were tugging at his shirt. “Joel.”

“Nothin’ there you wanna see, baby. Just let me look at you.” As sweet as his voice sounds, and as much as you want him to continue, you pull away from his greedy mouth.

“Please take your fucking shirt off.” You say harshly, biting at his bottom lip hard enough for his eyes to open again. He looks over you, taking in the sight of you under him with your arms pinned above your head, back arched towards him. He’s clearly contemplating how difficult it would be to ignore you, smirking a little when he looks up at your hands again.

“Or what? You gonna make me stop?” He kisses under your jaw, his free hand skating along your side, only stopping when his fingers reach the hem of your jeans. When he hears you gasp as his hand disappears under the fabric, he laughs. “Nah, you won’t make me stop. Want it just as bad as I do, don’t you?”

“But I want—“

“Shh, shh. I’ll give you what you want.” His mouth his dizzying— words and movements hot against your skin as his hand bypasses your underwear and drags slow circles against your clit, immediately drawing his name from your lips again. “There you go, darlin’. Feels good?”

“God— yeah, faster. Please.” Your chest was rising and falling so fast, trying to pull the air he was punching out of your lungs with every quick movement of his fingers. He hums at the praise, and you feel him shift above you, sitting up so he could slip one finger inside of you. “Fuck, Joel!”

“I know, baby.” He tilts his head up to kiss you again, tongue matching the fast and unpredictable pace of his hand. You can feel it building— pleasure rippling up your spine and fizzing low in your stomach, and your hands tug under Joel’s unrelenting grip.

He seems to forget he was meant to be holding you, his groans and concentration all focused on the way he was fucking you with his hand, so he lets you go, his hand going to hold your face. It makes you smile under him, but it quickly gets lost when you moan his name again, rolling your hips against him.

Now your hands are free, you have a moment of clarity when your eyes flutter open and see him staring at you; eyes flitting between your face and your chest. You want to have that— to see skin you’ve only thought about in the late hours of the night when you were alone, never admitting it to yourself when you woke the next day. You grab onto the hem of his shirt, ripping the denim up as far as you can, getting your hands on the bare skin of his back.

He doesn’t help you— too obsessed with the way you are writhing and moaning so loud the poeple down the street will know what your doing. Neither of you care about anything else than this, right here, and the fiery hot spark that’s lighting you up inside.

“Shirt, Joel.” You tug at the collar, then card your fingers through his hair and pull. He grumbles something, and then you whimper when his hand leaves you and he sits up on his knees. He was out of breath, towering over you and keeping you caged underneath him as he tore the shirt over his head and threw it behind him. When he leans back down, he doesn’t give you the time to admire him that you’d like, but you take what he gives you. He shoves your own jeans down, shaking them off you in one tug, and your eyes hardly have time to open before you feel the backs of your calves press against the flexing muscles of his bare shoulders.

“Perfect.” He says, speech almost slurred, and the look he gives you reminds you of the one he gave you in the barn. Before you can think enough on it, both of his hands hold your hips down and he gives you one last look before he buried his face in your pussy.

It doesn’t take much to have you screaming his name again, that sweet hot pleasure that was building so quickly comes rushing back with the wet heat of his mouth. He eats you out like he’s fucking hungry for it— pulling borderline shouts from deep in your chest, like something is bashing against your ribcage, only awoken by his complete and utter devotion. His tongue swirls and fingers curl, and you lose sense of direction, clawing at his hair and feeling his groan when you pull him into you.

There’s no where to go, stuck under his weight as he dives into your taste, at his mercy entirely. It was so different to see him undone— a sight you wouldn’t be able to forget next time he came into the stables all soft eyes and short words. No, here he was holding your eye contact, groaning your name as if you were the one doing this to him. He gave you no choice but to hurtle towards the edge of consciousness, knowing you wouldn’t be able to hold out under him much longer.

“Joel. Joel— fuck.” His lips wrap around your clit, sucking gently while his fingers curl inside you in a spot that has you seeing stars. “Oh, god—“

He doesn’t say anything when you cum, just groans into your pussy as he guides you through it. He sets pace and intensity, both of which are hard and almost unbearable, and he only drags himself away when you beg him to. Your legs shake, his hands smoothing over your thighs as his mouth presses wet kisses up your skin, over your stomach and chest, finally reaching your mouth with an overwhelming force.

You hum, tasting the combination of you and him together on his tongue, taking everything he needs to give you. He shuffles up, and you feel his cock pressing hard against your thigh, still straining in his jeans. You let him kiss you lazily, let him explore you this way while your hands busy themselves between your bodies, unzipping his jeans. When your palm brushes over his length still covered by his boxers, he hisses and his eyebrows furrow, like the pleasure is almost painful. You do it again and he shudders, pressing his forehead to yours.

“You’re so soft.” He murmurs past your ear when you slip your hand under the waistband. When your fingers wrap around him, you stay true to his word and stay light with your touch, not wanting him to finish just yet. You want to make it good for him— draw it out. Pay him back for everything he gave to you; not just tonight, but every night. “So fucking soft. Sweet.”

“You like that?” You ask innocently, stroking him again. Your thumb brushes over his tip and he shudders again, nearly shivering. “I can be gentle. Want you inside me, though.”

“Whatever you want. Fuck— anything you want to do to me. Please, baby. Not gonna last long if you keep doing that.” A single please was enough to grant him a thousand wishes, but you’ll settle for giving him just one.

He helps rid himself of the rest of his clothes, no insecurity in sight with the lower half of his body. There was no need to be… he was big. It made sense— he was a big guy, but it wasn’t just that. He was just… perfect.

“Eyes on me.” He says, pulling your gaze away from where your bodies are about to meet. “I want to see your face when I…”

He trails off when his tip lines up with your entrance. You bite your lip in anticipation, feeling the soaked pleasure coating him as he finally slides himself further and further. You both sigh, like a weight is being lifted from both of you. As if this was the way you were both meant to be.

He bottoms out, head buried in the crook of your neck as he chokes out your name. You feel full— the weight and stretch holding you to the bed, your arms strung lazily around his neck. Your fingers wander down his spine, keeping that soft lilt to your touch that he seems to thrive under. For all his hardness and strength, it’s the lightest touches that seem to crumble him the most.

“Fuck, baby. Feel so good around me.” Joel never speaks for the fun of it, but he says these things like he needs to. Strained and focused, like it’s a compulsion to tell you how good it feels. “Needed to fuck you for so long. You gonna let me make you feel good, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Joel. Please, I need— need you to move.” You whine like a spoilt child, and you are now that you’ve had a taste. He laughs once, a breathless sound, and then pulls out nearly all the way, only to slide back in with that same trained pace.

“Good girl.” He groans, and then picks up the pace.

It’s devastating. It’s the only way to describe it. He fucks you hard and slow, slowly etching himself into parts of your being you aren’t entirely sure he didn’t just create himself. Like he’s forged apart of you just for him, something low and hot, and he hits it with every, perfectly timed thrust. The bed rocks under him, but he doesn’t seem to care. Its creaks and groans are drowned out by his words and both of your moans.

You are incoherent— overcome by pleasure that shocks even the nerves in your fingers and toes, but it seems to have the opposite effect on Joel. He doesn’t fucking shut up— and it’s about the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced.

“So fucking tight around me.”

“God, you feel good.”

“You are so beautiful.”

“Gonna fuck you for days.” Is the last one you hear before his groans turn to borderline whimpers, his pace stuttering as you feel the coil in your stomach tighten and snap all at once. “Oh, fuck that’s it. Cum again for me. Jesus Christ—“

“Joel.” You can only whisper now— voice so strained that nothing could come out but his name. Your eyes roll back and you feel him fuck into you one or two more times, and then he pulls out and replaces himself with his hand. You ride out your pleasure on his skilled fingers, another wave of heat numbing you when you feel him spill onto your stomach, your back arching off the bed.

The room is suddenly dead quiet, nothing but panting breaths filling the silent house. He is still hanging over you, you can feel both of his forearms next to your head as he leans down to kiss you again. The warmth of his body is lifted just enough for him to use something soft to clean you off, and then he collapses beside you, tugging you onto his chest.

He runs his hand through your hair, stopping at your jaw to tilt you up. He kisses you again, the lack of oxygen making you giddy and dizzy, and you break the kiss only because your smiling so wide.

“What’s so funny?” He says, trying to be serious, but even in the dark you can see his matching grin.

“Just happy. Can I be happy?” It’s meant to be light hearted, but you feel him stop for a second, and then he tugs you a little closer.

“Yeah. Yeah, you can be.” He tucks you under his chin, sighing deeply as the rest of your body turns into him and tangles itself with him. “I am.”

You open your eyes a final time, seeing the pitch black dark outside. If it was light, you’d be able to see the stable from here, but it’s black out there. Usually it would make you uneasy, but tucked up under Joel’s safe arms, there’s nothing in the world that could make you feel more at peace.

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel killer x y/n #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x reader

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daisy (english profrry x TA!yn)

part one of english profrry is here!!!!!

word count: 6.3k

BIG content warnings: massive, glaring warning for an inappropriate relationship. y/n is a graduate student in this and of legal consenting age, but there's an age gap of four years between her and harry. she is his TA, which means there's a big power imbalance between them. bc this is fic we'll pretend it's romantic and all very consensual but if this is triggering to you in any way, DO NOT READ IT. it's not worth hurting your mental health. also, if anything remotely like this happens in your personal life, IT IS NOT OKAY.

other CWs: small smut scene at the end (m masturbation with descriptions of m receiving oral, slight cum play), y/n alludes to having seasonal depression but it's never outwardly said (just be aware since the descriptions of it could be triggering to some!), a bit of angst but nothing crazy

with all that out of the way, if you still choose to read, I hope you enjoy :) love you all lots!!

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. . .

Professor Styles is a dick.

That’s what the entire English department said when it was announced that Y/N would be his newest teaching assistant for the spring semester.

They all sneered at her, throwing what they pretended to be caring warnings her way, claiming that he was impossible to work with and he didn’t even actually need a TA, he just liked picking students to embarrass. With their noses upturned at Y/N but not actually offering any kind of advice, she left the small English building shortly after the Dean unveiled the new schedule for TAs, anxiety bubbling in her stomach and thick, salty tears in her waterline.

She knows Professor Styles doesn’t have the greatest reputation on campus. She actually actively avoided taking any classes with him throughout the duration of her bachelor’s degree, and even as she chose to stay on to enter her first year of graduate school, she picked any other available professors over him.

He was known for his less-than-personable demeanor and the way he picked apart students’ essays, leaving them questioning their entire life path. Y/N has never felt much insecurity about her career — she’s always wanted to go into English, maybe opting for a small but impactful job in publishing or editing — but having a professional ruin her writing sounded… well, awful.

In reality, Y/N didn’t have much of a choice when it came to her teaching assistant preferences. She needed a job that wouldn’t take up too much of her time. Her first semester of grad school was difficult and stressful. All of her friends graduated and went on to cool jobs all over the country, while Y/N just stayed in the same apartment. She was homesick for her family and walked through a campus every day that reminded her of a better version of herself — one who had a flourishing social life and excellent grades. Just a few months of working on her masters degree had worn her down.

Despite the slight dip in her grades from university to graduate school (an expected change, her advisor had explained), she was still recommended as a TA for the English department in the spring. She’d really been gunning after Professor Rooney, a kind, middle-aged woman who had spent years working glamorous jobs in the publishing world. She had connections everywhere and was incredibly sweet, and Y/N knew she would feel comfortable working in her sections for the semester. All winter break, she imagined how wonderful it could be; that maybe it was the huge win she needed after such a shitty fall.

But Professor Rooney didn’t choose her. Professor Styles did.

Even with a promise of a reasonable stipend contingent on the completion of her TA position, Y/N’s world felt like it came crashing down just a little bit — but she knew better than to complain or blubber on about not getting her way. Instead, she chose to just get through it.

In the final days of winter break, Professor Styles emailed her to meet in his office the day before classes began. He didn’t ask if she was back on campus or if she had a good break. Y/N wanted to resent that, but chose to swallow it down.

When she got to his small office in the department, she gently knocked on the open door, signaling her arrival. He peered up from whatever book he was hunched over on his deck, straightened his posture, and checked his watch.

“You’re late.” he said flatly, shutting the paperback with a force she didn’t even know was possible. With furrowed brows, she glanced at the lockscreen on the phone she held.

“You said 10:30, right? It’s 10:30 now.”

“On time is late,” he muttered, folding his hands on his desk, “Early is on time.”

She swallowed, her lips parting like a guppy. He rolled his eyes and motioned to the seat on the other side of her desk. Quickly, she took it, placing her tote bag at her feet and making a mental reminder to arrive at his classes five minutes early from this point on.

“Right, so you’re my TA, then?”

She nodded, “Yes, for the spring semester.”

He hummed, though she couldn’t tell if it was a sound of approval or discontent. He moved his computer mouse over the surface of the university provided mouse pad, making his computer buzz to life. With an awkward silence settling between them, the sound of the mouse clicking was the only thing that filled the dim office.

“You just graduated from the English department last spring,” he said, eyes scanning over what she now assumed was her student file, “3.8 GPA. That’s fine.”

She blinked at that, resisting the urge to balk at him. 3.8 was .2 away from a perfect GPA. It was more than fine.

“You didn’t take any classes with me during your time as an undergrad.”

“Um, your sections were always full—”

“I don’t really care what your reasoning is,” he cut her off, continuing to scroll down the screen. A lump formed in her throat but she tried to swallow it down. Nothing sounded more embarrassing than crying in front of Professor Styles. “And now you’re getting your masters in English with a concentration in Feminist Literature. That’s an unusual one. Why?”

She’s surprised he’s bothered to ask her a question, so it takes her a moment to form a cohesive answer on her tongue. She’s flailing a bit and she knows he can tell, based on the unamused expression on his face.

“I’ve read a lot of literature where there’s a female main character and she’s just used to state a point or some sort of backwards lesson that was considered modernized for the time,” Y/N speaks softly, picking at her nails in her lap, “I’m interested in studying that more.”

“What kind of literature?” Professor Styles instantly fires back.

“Well, I wrote my undergraduate thesis on The Scarlet Letter, but I’ve also been thinking about basing my graduate capstone on Ophelia from Hamlet.”

He makes that annoying humming noise again, and she’s still unsure if he’s pleased or thinks she’s an idiot. She wasn’t unused to the latter — a lot of snobs in the English department thought it was stupid of her to care for critiquing older pieces of writing from an argumentative, feminist perspective, even if they acted like The Odyssey was an “absolute must-read” for everyone.

(It’s not. Y/N thinks The Odyssey is dumb and boring, but she’ll never say that, especially not to Professor Styles.)

“Right, well,” he lifts a white ceramic coffee cup to his mouth and swallows briefly. She glances down to see he’s drinking hot black coffee, and her lips furl into a quick, involuntary wince. “You’ll be with me three days a week. You are to attend the daily lectures — Mondays and Wednesdays are the shorter section and Friday is the long, three-hour one. Helping out with grading and holding office hours will be your primary tasks. If you fall ill or need to take a day off, I need at least 24 hours notice. If I receive any complaints from students, you’re out. Otherwise, it should be a fine semester. Any questions?”

She shakes her head, hoping he’ll show some inkling of delight at her quick ability to understand and process. Instead, his lips remain in a flat line and he nods, taking another sip of his coffee.

“You can go now. See you tomorrow.”

She scrambles to leave his office as quickly as possible.

. . .

Professor Styles barely speaks to Y/N for the first few weeks.

It’s unsettling in a way, especially because she doesn’t know if she’s doing a good job. She thrives off of reassurance, but every time she hands him a neat stack of newly graded papers or drafts, he simply waves her off with an, “alright, thanks.”

If she’s being honest, it makes her want to try even harder, though she’s not entirely sure why. She has the urge to claw her way to the very top of Professor Styles’ repertoire of students and assistants — a need for perfectionism that can only be quelled by the person least likely to give it to her.

And it’s driving her absolutely insane.

She wants to ask, straight out, “am I doing an alright job? Do you need anything more from me?”, but she’s positive that will only make her glow with insecurity. He’d probably laugh in her face and call her a baby for needing his acceptance.

It eats her alive as she sits at the front of the lecture hall, watching his female students stare at him with hearts in their eyes as he discusses the politics of Ursula Le Guin. It bugs her only more than he's one of the most attractive people she's ever seen, always impeccably dressed with long, ring-clad fingers.

Grumbling, she realizes that she probably looks just as pathetic, so she quickly straightens her posture and runs her fingertips over the mousepad of her laptop so it glows back to life. She’s supposed to be going over the grades of the students’ first essays — her and Professor Styles were meeting after class to discuss them in the event that anyone needed additional assistance for the upcoming paper.

She busies herself with that until he ends class, creating a list of a few names that would potentially need to be met with one-on-one. He doesn’t say anything as he gathers his own materials from the lecture, and she follows him out of the hall and to his office just as silently, carrying her laptop in one hand and her tote bag on her shoulder.

Professor Styles’ office is always cold and dark, never failing to send a shiver down her spine when he unlocks the door. Today, her shoulders shudder involuntarily and she pushes her sweater sleeves down to cover her hands. With a rumple in his eyebrows, he sits down.

“What’s the matter?” he asks.

Y/N snaps her head up in surprise. She doesn’t mean to look shocked, so she quickly revises her facial features in an attempt to look collected.

“Oh, it’s just cold,” she says, waving him off nonchalantly, “I’m fine.”

“Yeah. I think this winter has been especially brutal.”

His reply especially dazes her — she’s unsure if that’s an attempt at making small talk, something Professor Styles has never done with her before, but she instantly nods her head, as if she’s speaking with a toddler who’s expressing their emotions for the first time.

“Yeah, I think so,” she says softly, “The snow is awful to walk through.”

“Do you live far from campus?”

She shakes her head and sets her laptop and planner on her side of the desk, across from Professor Styles and his things.

“No, just a 10 minute walk or so, but I don’t have a car.”

He hums at that — that stupid, unassuming hum that contributes absolutely nothing to the conversation. She wonders if she’s in her head about it, but she feels his eyes linger just a beat longer on her face before tearing them away. He licks over his teeth as he taps on his laptop to wake it back up.

“Right, then. Did you go over their grades?”

As she pulls her things out from her bag, she tries to ignore the small pit of disappointment in her tummy from Professor Styles shifting their conversation back over to class.

. . .

That weekend, Y/N thinks she’s hallucinating as she meanders up and down the aisles at Target.

She’s not really looking for anything in particular. Sometimes she just comes here for something to do. Her bank account isn't exactly flowing in a way that permits her to buy all the cute home decor she gazes at, which is why her basket currently consists of the following: pads, a new pack of her favorite gel pens, cookie dough, and a lip balm that she’ll probably put back before she checks out.

It’s another harsh, cold day out, the freezing temperatures refusing to let up as the days of the month flit by. This is Y/N’s least favorite time of year — when winter sticks around despite the holidays being long gone. All that’s left between now and spring is pesky snow and fake Hallmark holidays, and she yearns for the days where she can walk to campus and admire the tulips peeking out from the damp soil. By then, she’ll be closer to returning to her hometown for the summer, where she’ll likely get a job for a few months working in the local library or bookstore.

It’ll be good — she’ll get to see her friends and spend time with family and save up some money, and maybe the hopefulness of life warming up in a few months will be enough to get her through this semester.

And as she’s daydreaming of brighter days, that’s when it happens — when she thinks she must be fully hallucinating, because as she strolls down one aisle in particular, Professor Styles is standing there, his bottom lip pinched between his fingers as he stares at space heaters.

She’s never seen him off campus. Sometimes that happens since a lot of professors live close by, so it’s not unheard of to pass by an advisor or faculty member at the supermarket or through the park. But seeing Professor Styles here feels… illegal, somehow, especially given his casual, dressed down attire. He’s wearing what looks to be a cozy sweatshirt and a pair of athletic shorts, despite the temperature nearing the 20s today. (Y/N is bundled up in three sweaters, a jacket, a scarf, gloves, and leggings beneath her jeans.) White socks go just above his ankles, and the running shoes on his feet make her wonder if he’s insane enough to actually be working out in this weather.

She must be analyzing his form for a beat too long — maybe it’s the shock from it that still hasn’t worn off — because he feels her gaze, eyes veering to his peripheral, realizing that his teaching assistant is standing there as if she’s waiting for permission to enter the aisle.

“Hey,” she blurts out when she realizes she’s been caught.

Confused by her frank, laidback greeting, he lifts his head to face her. “Hey.” he echoes awkwardly.

“Um, sorry.”

He quirks an eyebrow and Y/N’s body heats with embarrassment. “Sorry?”

“Sorry… I-I should’ve just walked away when I saw you,” Y/N quickly attempts to revise, but she realizes it’s just making her sound stupider, “I was just surprised to see you here.”

“In a public store?”

“Right,” she nods curtly, turning on her heel, “Have a good rest of your weekend—”

“Wait, did you need something down here?” he rushes out, almost as if he’s fearful she’ll leave. She pushes the thought down but parts her lips nervously, eyes scanning over the contents on the shelves. She doesn’t need anything, she was just putting off having to brave the cold weather on her walk home.

“Yes,” she says slowly because, once again, she’s suddenly stupefied and enamored by the prospect of small talk with Professor Styles, “I needed… lighters. For my candles.”

He nods, a quiet “ah,” sounding from his lips, and they stand there like they’re doing some sort of parallel play; Y/N pretending to look at the long, safety lighters while Professor Styles continues to look at space heaters. She wonders if he for some reason is pretending, too, but then he’ll squat down to look at the features on one box, making a tsk-ing noise with his mouth, and straighten back up to analyze a different model.

When he finally decides on an option that’s best fit, he grabs the box and places it in his cart. Quickly, Y/N plucks a random display of lighters and throws them in her basket.

“Hope you found a good one,” she mutters out dumbly, feeling the need to interject one last sentence into their silence. He glances down at his cart, then at her basket, and then, finally, at her.

“It’s for the office,” he says. “You said it was cold.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“This should help with that.”

“Sure, yeah. I have one at home, it helps a lot with the draftiness.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for.”

“Maybe you can get an extra lamp in there, too. Spruce it up a bit.”

A wrinkle forms between his brows, “What do you mean?”

Y/N wishes the ground would swallow her up whole.

“Nothing! I just meant— like, sometimes it’s a bit cold, and with the weather, it can get dark, too. The winter’s tough, don’t you think? That’s all I meant, I’m sorry—”

“No, you’re right,” he says with a decisive nod. “You’re the only other person that really spends time there besides students. Do you want to help pick one out?”

“Sure, okay.”

They walk in silence to the lighting display, which is filled with a myriad of different options. Professor Styles looks semi-overwhelmed by it all and Y/N has to bite her lip so she doesn’t smile too widely at his confused expression. She points to a simple, inexpensive standing lamp.

“I think something like this would be good, in the corner or something. Just for some extra brightness.”

“Is that the one you like?”

Y/N doesn’t have strong lamp preferences, especially when it comes to a space that she’s not even living in, but for some reason, it seems important that she says yes. So she nods her head, flashing him a small smile. He returns it, and she realizes that’s the first time he’s ever smiled at her.

“Okay. I’ll have this stuff set up for when you come in on Monday.”

She swallows, feeling the mountain of adoration in her stomach grow. She shoves it down.

“Thank you, that’s really kind of you,” she says.

“Sure. I’ll see you then. Have a good rest of your weekend.”

She hides in the lamp aisle for another 15 minutes, until she’s positive he’s left the store.

. . .

Professor Styles and Y/N are working in their typical silence when he says something that makes her jaw nearly drop to the floor.

She thought that after their short but personable interaction at the store, things would change a bit. Maybe he would feel more comfortable talking to her outside of monotone grunts or the occasional “are they failing my class?”, but things remained the same. When she came in that Monday, the space heater and lamp were both on and running as he promised, but it was as if nothing happened.

It irks Y/N to no end.

She assumes that he sincerely doesn’t care for her, which she supposes is fine considering kindness or approval aren’t part of the job description. That’s why she’s shocked when he says it a few weeks after the weekend they saw one another in public.

“I think you should ask to change your advisor to me.”

Y/N chokes on her spit, hurriedly coughing into her hand so she doesn’t spray saliva all over his desk. Once she recovers, he’s staring at her expectedly, as if what he said was completely and utterly sane.

“Sorry?” she asks, “Why would I do that?”

She doesn’t mean it to sound rude, but it’s a genuine question. Typically, there’s some type of rapport between a grad student and their advisor, and she and Professor Styles have absolutely none of that.

Professor Styles clears his throat and folds his hands on his desk. “Because I got my masters degree in the same thing, so I spent four years studying exactly what you’re studying. I think you’ve been doing very well as my TA and I would like to advise you.”

“Why would you ask me why I was studying that, then?” she blurts out, confusion apparent on her face. “The first day we met, you told me it was unusual.”

“It is.”

“But you studied it.”

“I did.”

“So why would you say that?”

Professor Styles sighs as if this is the most boring and obvious conversation he’s had all day.

“I wanted to hear you defend it. See why you’re interested and make sure it’s not all bullshit.”

Y/N shakes her head, “So you were playing some kind of mind game with me? For fun?”

“It wasn’t a mind game, Y/N. I just wanted to know why you’re interested in it.”

She bites her lip and looks down at her laptop screen, which has since gone dim since they began talking. If she’s being truthful, she’s grown tired of Professor Styles. Up until now, she was positive she was doing things wrong and he just didn’t care enough to correct her — only to find out that he wanted to work with her even more. It made zero sense.

“Are you going to do it, then?” he asks, tearing her from her thoughts. Her expression pinches as she rolls her lips into a thin line.

“I don’t know.” she answers in a watery voice. “I like my advisor, and I assumed you didn’t like me very much.”

His eyebrows furrow. “Why wouldn’t I like you?”

“You barely utter three words to me on a daily basis and never tell me if you’re happy with my work.”

Professor Styles scoffs, leaning back against his leather computer chair.

“You need regular approval from me to know whether or not I like you?”

“Yes,” she admits, anger building in her chest until she can’t help but blurt out what she’s thinking, “It’s how I work. If you were a good professor, you would’ve asked how I best function at the beginning of the semester. Instead, you ignore me for fun.”

“You don’t think I’m a good professor.”

She sighs and shakes her head. “I didn’t mean that. I think you are. I just don’t think you’re the best at managing teaching assistants.”

He shrugs, but she notices a slight wince in his features. “We can’t all be good at everything, can we?”

“Right,” she mumbles, drumming her fingers on the edge of his desk. When he doesn’t reply, she shuts her laptop and stuffs it in her bag. “I’m gonna go then. I’ll see you next week.”

He’s silent as she gets her things together and pulls her jacket on, wrapping her scarf around her neck and zipping it on top of her sweater for extra warmth. As her boots carry her across the length of his office and to the door, he stands from his seat.

“Y/N,” he says, and she turns to look at him. “The deadline to change your advisor is next Friday. I hope you’ll still consider it.”

. . .

That evening, all Harry can think about is his sweet, quiet TA. The one who he undoubtedly offended earlier today — he cringes at the thought of it, replaying their conversation over and over in his head. He can’t stop thinking about the upset look on her face. When she asked if he was playing mind games with her, he wanted to get down on his knees and beg for her forgiveness. He never meant to hurt her, not one bit.

He sighs as he runs his hand through his hair. He’s had reruns of some shitty sitcom on since he got home from work a few hours ago. He didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts, but even a laugh track and ‘90s era merriment couldn’t distract him from thinking about her.

He considers the things she said about wanting his approval. He’s never been well-liked in the English department, likely because of his rough exterior. He’s not immune to the things he hears from students and faculty, about how he’s grumpy and someone to be feared, even if he didn’t even intend to come off that way. In all honesty, he never wanted to be perceived in that matter — but once his reputation began to precede him a year or two ago, he figured there was no use in trying to convince people otherwise.

That's how it had always gone, anyway — in high school, when he started experimenting with different styles of clothing, everyone assumed he was gay. He'd desperately tried to refute those claims, even if he wasn't completely sure of his sexuality himself. But no one cared — they'd already made up their minds, and it seemed useless to attempt to change their ways of thinking.

And when people spoke here, mumbling about how mean and terrible he was... well, what was the point?

Y/N was the only person he cared to win over, and it was eating him alive.

So much so that he made the blind decision to maybe, possibly cross a very clear boundary between professor and TA. Despite Y/N being of legal, consenting age (after looking at her student file, he found that he’s only four years older), he still attempted to prioritize maintaining a professional relationship with every one of his students and TAs.

He couldn’t help himself with her, though. He knew it was bad — he could feel his heart thumping quickly in his chest, the logical part of his brain telling him to stop while he’s ahead, but he couldn’t. Not as he grabbed his laptop, logged into his work email, and composed a message to her student address. Not when his fingers danced over the keyboard and resisted the urge to implore her to start fresh with him. Not when he clicked ‘send’ without even proofreading to make sure it sounded appropriate, not creepy or weird.

He pushed his laptop away and got up to pour himself some wine, attempting to rid himself of any lingering guilt.

. . .

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Today

Time: 9:57 p.m.

Hi Y/N,

I wanted to apologize for how I acted today. It wasn’t kind of me and you deserve far better than that. I understand if you have no interest in changing your advisor. Please know that whatever you decide, your TA position will not be in danger, should you choose to continue working with me.

Thank you for all of your hard work. You’ve been doing an excellent job and I’ve very much enjoyed having you this semester. Have a good weekend.

x Harry Styles

. . .

On Monday, Y/N’s mind is whirring.

It’s not because the semester is nearing midterm season, although that’s part of it. It’s because Professor Styles emailed her an apology at almost 10 pm on Friday evening, and she’s repeatedly read it over at least 50 times since receiving it.

She didn’t reply because she wasn’t sure what to say — and, most shockingly, he didn’t sign it as Professor Styles. Instead, he ended the message with a kiss, for crying out loud, followed by his name. His name!

It’s all she’s been able to focus on for days, to the point where she contemplates not showing up to his lecture on Monday. But she’s better than that — she’s stronger, and she’s smarter, and she doesn’t want to hide.

She avoids Professor Styles’ gaze all throughout his lecture, instead focusing on grading first drafts for the class’ midterm paper. She knows she’ll have to sit with him in his office afterwards, and her stomach churns at the thought. In some way, she feels ashamed that she said anything to begin with. Her comments about him not managing TAs properly have made her shrivel into a mortified version of herself, and she’s shocked he didn’t fire her on the spot.

Worst of all, she hates the way her heart jumped into her throat when his name popped up on her screen on Friday night. She craved the feeling, hoping he would, for some reason, do it again, even though she never responded. She wasn’t playing hard to get by any means, but the fact that her brain even veered in that direction proved one thing to be true: she has a big, fat crush on Professor Styles.

The knowledge sits like a rock in her stomach, especially as they walk in silence to his office after class. The air between them feels awkward, but she’s not sure that there’s ever been a time where it hasn’t felt odd between them. When he unlocks the door, she quietly steps inside, her heart skipping a beat at the space heater and lamp already turned on.

Usually, he keeps the door open while they work. Today, he shuts it, the soft click of the lock making her jump.

“Can we talk?”

Y/N’s throat dries but she nods, gripping the strap of her tote bag close to her arm. She turns to face him, and for the first time ever, she notices that he looks… nervous.

“About last week. I’m sorry, but I’m even more sorry for emailing you that on Friday,” he rushes the words out like he wrote a script out and was waiting to perform them, “It was completely inappropriate, and I got the hint when you didn’t reply.”

“The hint?” she peeps out, her voice squeaky and embarrassing.

“Yeah,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest, “About not wanting me to advise you and… you probably found my email to be weird, right?”

Quickly, she shakes her head. “No, no. I.. I actually haven’t given much thought to the advisor thing, but I didn’t think it was weird. I just didn’t know how to respond.”

His eyebrows furrow, “Why’s that?”

“Because I felt guilty about what I said to begin with! A-and you could’ve fired me if you wanted to, but instead you apologized and said that I’m doing a good job—”

“You are.”

“Exactly!” she exclaims frustratedly. “I didn’t know how to respond to that.”

“To me being… kind?”

“Yes.”

He blinks at her, the crinkle between his brows deepening.

“I’m just not used to it, Professor Styles.” she says with a sigh.

“Harry,” he corrects.

“What?”

“My name is Harry. I don’t want you to call me Professor Styles.”

Y/N ignores the quickening of her heartbeat and shifts her stance from foot to foot.

“Why are you doing this?” she eventually blurts as she crosses her arms over her sweater-clad form. She’s not sure if she detects an inkling of pity in his face, but if she does, she wants nothing more than to run for the hills and never return. For some reason, the thought of Professor— Harry feeling bad for her makes her shoulders shudder, a prickly sensation tip-toeing down her spine, as if shame is completely and utterly eating her alive.

His lips part in a quiet sigh. “I just… I spent the weekend thinking of you and feeling awful for the way I’ve treated you.”

Thinking of you.

I spent the weekend thinking of you.

Her stomach turns as his words echo throughout the chambers of her brain. But then there’s a click — like the second part of the sentence just ekes its way through, planting a seed of self-doubt and insecurity. And she backs away like he may explode at any moment.

“You shouldn’t— no, that’s alright,” she shakes her head, gaze set low on the carpeted floors of his tiny office.

“Y/N—”

Again, she cuts him off with a shake of her head, raising her eyes to look at him. His expression is pained and she wonders if hers is any better, though she assumes for different reasons: He doesn’t want to get fired for torturing another grad student. She has an inappropriate crush on the professor she works for.

“It’s all good. Call it even?” she rushes out, leaning over to grab her things from her chair, “Fresh start on Wednesday. Don’t mention it again, alright?”

She’s gone before he can stop her.

. . .

Harry accidentally falls asleep in his office that evening.

It’s half because he’s absolutely swamped with work, too fearful to email Y/N and add things to her grading pile after the way she all but ran away earlier today. He’s terrified he made her uncomfortable.

He doesn’t want to return to the quiet loneliness of his apartment, where he’s constantly faced to force the reality of his life: A man in his early 30s with a job that he likes, but no one actually likes him at it. His entire family resides in London and with the exception of a few friends from his schooling years, he’s alone. Especially in the romance department.

His heart aches for Y/N. He realizes it’s a bit dramatic, even slightly taboo given the nature of their professional relationship, but he likes her. He likes her so much that he doesn’t want to go home and think about how badly he messed things up, so he falls asleep face-down on his desk, his cranium wedged between piles of pens and a Post-It list of to-do’s.

When he wakes up, he doesn’t know how long he’s been asleep for. The soft, golden light from the lamp is still just barely bathing the circumference of the room, but as he blinks his eyes open, he realizes that it’s silent. He can see through the small frosted window that the hallways are dim, which means it’s most definitely sometime in the evening.

He feels… somewhat guilty but charged as he wakes from the fog of his sleep, eyebrows furrowing as he stretches his arms out. His neck already aches from the discomfort of his sleeping position and he groans, lifting a palm to sort the knot out.

And that’s when he realizes it — why he feels as if his body is buzzing, his hands sweaty and his throat dry. He’d woken up in the middle of a sex dream and, like a pathetic teenager, the star of it had been his crush. Y/N.

He scoffs to himself as he glances down at his crotch where, sure enough, his length is painfully hard beneath the constriction of his trousers and underwear. He swallows, eyes flickering closed. He can remember the exact details of his dream, even if they send a bead of guilt dripping down his chest — they’d been in his office, just like this. She was between his legs, knees pressing into the carpet of the floor, her eyes rounded and expectant as he toyed with her, pretending to guide his cock between her lips only to take it away at the last minute. She pouted every time, a plushy lipped-frown punctuating the words he hadn’t even realized he’d been dying to hear: “Please Professor Styles, stop teasing me.”

At the realization, he’s sent into a frenzy. He doesn’t even think to check whether the door is locked (or maybe if he’s locked in the building, no less), before he’s clawing at his belt and zipper, yanking the fabrics down to reveal a pair of swollen balls. His length stands hard, his eyes nearly rolling back just from the feeling of looping his fingers around the base. He can’t remember the last time he was this pent up just from his own imagination, but it’s not a difficult place to return — not as his head leans back against his office chair, allowing his dream to pick up and take form in full consciousness.

So much pre-cum is bubbling at the tip that he doesn’t need much of his own spit to lubricate himself. He bites his lip hard to prevent himself from groaning out too loudly, envisioning the way she’d finally suckle around the tip of his cock, looking up at him with proud eyes. He’d gradually help her go deeper, but she’d be excited, willing to bruise her throat for him. She was so good — in his dreams, in real life, she was always so, so good.

“So good, Professor,” she’d pant out, popping off to lick a stripe up the side of his cock. With spit-swollen lips, she’d venture down to his balls, rolling them in the palm of her hands before taking each one into her mouth. In reality, he gasps at that, tugging them in his own hand.

But what really gets him there is an impossible thought — one that has nothing to do with the silly wet dream his brain conjured while he slept. Her in her own bedroom, her naked form wrapped up in her sheets while he gazed over lovingly, pressing soft kisses along her shoulder and down her arm. She’d giggle breathily before flipping onto her side to face him. And she’d say it — I love you — and it’d feel like heaven.

That’s what pushes him to finish all over his hand, cum dribbling over his fist as he pants and gasps like he’s just discovered masturbation. His orgasm encompasses his entire body, a few beautiful, peaceful moments of complete pleasure that causes all of his muscles to tighten deliciously. Of course, he envisions her taking all of his cum, licking it up eagerly over his digits, making a show of it — she’d open her mouth, pretty pink tongue out, and he’d watch as she swallows. He shudders at the thought of it, quickly snapping his eyes open and grabbing a tissue from the box on his desk to clean himself up. He’s immediately back to his grumbly state as he does, irritated that he allowed himself to lose control in such a finite way.

He tosses the dirty tissue in the garbage can and stands up to tug his briefs and pants back up. The clink of his belt buckle is the only sound throughout the small room, so he jumps when a knock sounds on the other side of his closed door.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, someone knows, I must have said her name, I’m such a fucking freak—

His eyes widen when the person speaks: “Profess— Harry? Are you in there? It’s Y/N.”

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russellsppttemplates · 3 months

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Could you please do teen daughter with lando or Charles where she cries to you about a boy but doesn’t wanna tell her dad bc she thinks he’s gonna get mad or overreact but you convince her to or him to check on her and he handles it so well xx

"Mum, why are men so stupid and dumb?", Charlotte said as she arrived home from school.

"Science says it's about how their brain doesn't develop like ours - why is this coming up?", you asked your daughter, kissing her cheek and hugging her side.

"We broke up, apparently he was getting the idea I was too into him and he needs distance - also, apparently there was another girl he was talking to and they have been getting cosy? I'm not sure, all I know is that I don't want to see that stupid face anyway", she huffed, tears brimming her eyes as you hugged her, "I'm sorry it happened like that".

"Don't tell dad because he'll complain about how soft I am", she grumbled.

"I bet he won't, Lottie", you tried as she pulled away, kissing your cheek and going up to her room without any more words.

"Where's Charlotte?", Lando asked when he got home, kissing your lips and hugging your back, resting his head on your shoulder.

"She's upstairs - her boyfriend broke her heart, ex, boyfriend actually", you reasoned with yourself.

Lando mumbled "that bastard" as he walked away from the kitchen and heading up to Charlotte's room.

"Lottie, can I come in?", he asked, balancing himself on the doorframe and stepping inside once she allowed him.

"Mum told you, didn't she?", Charlotte tsked.

"She didn't do it in a harmful way - why didn't you want to tell me? Are you worried that I'll kick his ass?", your husband joked.

"He's not even worth that", Charlotte said as she walked close to the end of the bed, sitting beside her father and letting him pull her to rest against his chest, "apparently holding hands was too much for him because he had another girl he was seeing and didn't think one of us wouldn't find out", she groaned.

"Men can be really stupid", Lando sighed, "That's what I told mum - were you like that? When you met mum, did you think it was too soon?", she wondered.

"Before I met your mum, I wasn't so keen on a long relationship because I didn't want to - and I always made it clear to them. When your mum came around, I just knew she was the one and I started doing the work to prove it to her", Lando recalled, "one day you'll find someone like that too, who will treat you like you deserve", he kissed her temple, "Boys can be the worst, but the one will come along", he offered, "and he will treat you like you deserve to be treated, and you'll know then".

"Do you want to come with me and play some games? We can ask the rest to play with us and I bet mum will even allow you to win", Lando wiggled his eyebrows, "at this rate it will be the only win in this game - I genuinely have no idea how she got so good at it!", Charlotte chuckled, "which is a bit concerning considering the game is a bit violent".

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

#lando norris blurb #inês writes blurbs #f1 blurb #f1 x reader

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triptuckers · 6 months

Text

bonfire - percy jackson

Request: yes! "Hey I was just wondering if you could make a Percy Jackson x gn reader where the reader had a crush on Percy for a while and was jealous of annabeth only to find out Percy felt the same" Pairing: percy jackson x gn!reader Summary: you've got a crush on percy, but it looks as if he only has eyes for annabeth. you try to keep your distance, but it's hard and percy notices you're absent Warnings: jealousy, angst Word count: 1.5K A/N: happy new year!! sadly I went into the year with my tiktok account getting banned because they think I'm 13?? all I do is post silly little pjo videos but apparently its not okay so now I have to start over :( thanks for your request, enjoy!

you wonder if your life would be different if you were more like annabeth.

you're looking at her right now, as she's talking with her team. you know you can't win capture the flag from her. she's too smart. always analysing, always calculating everything that can go wrong and then preventing it.

percy is also looking at annabeth.

he's on her team, after all.

you're trying to listen as clarisse, your team captain, explains her new plan to your team. but you're only hearing half of what she's saying. you're far too focused on percy as he smiles at annabeth while she's talking to him.

you can tell he likes her. and it's not like you hadn't tried to let it go.

you had tried to push your feelings away, to ignore them, nothing worked. when you saw percy chatting with annabeth, you felt a little jealous.

soon your crush on percy and with it, your jealousy of annabeth, started to grow. so you decided if nothing worked, you'd distance yourself from percy.

it hurt, especially since percy was happy to spend his time with annabeth instead of you. at first, he would still invite you to spend time with him. but after you kept declining his offers, he eventually stopped asking you.

you tried not to show anyone how upset you were. maybe it would get easier with time. it's clear to you percy prefers annabeth over you.

on top of it all, you lose capture the flag yet again. you're forced to sit on the sidelines with your team, listening to clarisse tell you everything that went wrong. in the distance, you can see percy and annabeth celebrating their win with the rest of the team.

you tell yourself it's just a game and that you don't care their team won. maybe if you tell yourself it enough times, you might believe it.

when you're walking back to the cabins to put away your armor and weapons, you hear someone call your name behind you.

you turn around and see percy jogging to catch up with you.

you hate the way your heart still skips a beat when you see his eyes and quick smile.

'good game!' he says, stopping in front of you.

'hi percy.' you say.

'hi.' he says with a smile. gods, he's going to be the death of you one day.

'congrats on winning. again.'

'thanks! annabeth had this amazing plan.'

'athena kids, huh?' you mumble, trying not to show your disappointment at how it only took a couple of seconds for percy to bring up annabeth in the conversation.

'you busy tonight?' he says.

you look up at him. surely he wouldn't?

'not really. why?' you say.

'there's a bonfire tonight. want to come?' says percy.

'yeah, that sounds good.' you say. you could never say no to him.

sitting at the bonfire, you hadn't done that in a while. ever since you decided to try and distance yourself from percy, you missed out on things you knew he would be present at.

'great! it was annabeth's idea to host one, see you tonight!' says percy, waving at you and taking off again, headed towards his own cabin.

you just stand there. of course it was annabeth's plan, of course she'd be there as well.

as you walk to your cabin, you're not sure you can stand watching them together all night after watching them win capture the flag. but you'd told percy you'd come. and you hate to let him down.

so when the sun is setting, you make your way to the bonfire. while you're walking, you can't stop thinking about how cold it is. you should have brought a jacket. but you're afraid that if you go back to your cabin, you won't go to the bonfire anymore. and then percy would be upset.

at the bonfire, there's almost no kids from your team. there are a few of your siblings, but not a lot.

the kids from the opposite team are dancing, laughing and celebrating.

is this really where you want to be tonight?

you spot percy in the distance, talking with a few apollo kids. without meaning to, your eyes also search for annabeth. she's sitting with her siblings. at least they're not together again.

you'd stay for an hour. just to show your face, then you'd go back to your cabin. that's acceptable, right?

you get yourself a drink and sit down near the edge of the party, where most of the kids are just talking with each other and not really doing a lot.

as you think back to capture the flag earlier today, you try to figure out how annabeth's team could always beat yours. you know athena kids are smart, but ares kids also know a lot about battle strategies. maybe you could sit down with clarisse some day and see if you can help her with a new plan.

you're lost in thoughts, when you hear a familiar laugh in the distance. you look over and see annabeth has left her siblings and is now sitting next to percy.

you sigh softly, it was never going to be any different, was it?

for a while, you watch the other kids, listening to their songs. you had to give it to the apollo cabin, they know how to get a party started. when you look back at percy and annabeth, percy is gone.

before you can look around where he is, someone sits down next to you.

'having fun?'

you turn and are met with percy's bright eyes. you put on a smile, hoping it looks sincere.

'yeah. thanks for inviting me.' you say.

percy tilts his head a little and gives you a confusing look.

'you say you're having fun and yet since you got here you've been sitting here with a drink you haven't touched, freezing and shivering.' says percy.

right. you forgot your jacket.

'sorry. I was thinking about capture the flag.' you say.

'ah yes, about our fantastic victory.' says percy, smiling and bumping your shoulder. 'you should come up with a new plan some day. maybe talk to clarisse about it?'

'I will.' you say.

'then again, it is hard to beat annabeth's plans. sometimes I don't even know her entire plan until the game is already over.' says percy.

really? how does he manage to bring up annabeth every single time he's talking to you?

'well, don't let me keep you.' you say. 'thanks for checking in, but you don't have to take pity on me for losing. you can go back to annabeth now.'

percy frowns. 'what are you talking about?' he says.

'well, clearly you like her.' you say.

percy laughs at your words. you feel the color drain from your face. tears start to form in your eyes.

'alright, I'm leaving.' you say, getting up.

percy abruptly stops laughing. 'wait no, please don't go.' he says, pulling you back down.

'sorry, I shouldn't have laughed at that. it's just, yeah, I like annabeth. but not like that, we're just friends. I like you, okay? I thought you knew.' says percy.

your lips part in surprise. did you hear that right?

'you like me?' you say. 'like... you like like me?'

percy smiles. gods he really is beautiful. 'yeah, I like like you, alright.' he says. 'which reminds me, why have you been avoiding me lately?'

you look down, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. 'I thought if I wouldn't see you, my feelings for you would go away.'

'but they didn't.'

'no, they didn't. my eyes were still finding you in ever room. even tonight, I didn't really want to come. but I couldn't say no to you.'

'is that also why you didn't bring a jacket? so you'd have an excuse to go back soon?'

you look up and shake your head. 'no, I did actually forget my jacket.' you say.

percy takes off his sweater and hands it to you. 'here.' he says. 'wouldn't want you to freeze.'

'thank you.' you say, taking it and putting it on. it's bigger than your own sweaters and smells like him.

'want to get out of here?' says percy. 'we can go to the lake. or my cabin, no one's there. it'll just be the two of us.'

'do you have a heater in your cabin?' you say.

'no.' says percy, getting up and holding out his hand to you. 'but consider me your personal heater from now on. always available for cuddles.'

you smile, taking his hand. 'I like that.' you say.

as you and percy walk off, annabeth is still sitting by the campfire. she's smiling to herself. she knew about percy's crush on you. he'd been asking her all sorts of advice. and it looks like he finally told you.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

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cozage · 9 months

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Omg I hope it’s not too late! Happy 2K yayayayay it’s been really fun watching you grow 😭. I remember when your blog was pretty new and I asked you for advice on how to make my own and you said try not to make a 2nd blog. I was wondering if I could have option 1 with a S/O who dated the monster trio but they broke up so now they are trying to win their heart back.

A/N: still my greatest regret is making this a secondary blog but it all worked out! Hope you are doing well :) thanks for being along for the ride. Characters: gn reader x Luffy, Zoro, Sanji Total word count: 1k

Get You Back

Luffy

Luffy tries his best to move on because he thinks that's what you want. Even though he hates going to bed alone and not sitting next to you at dinner, he tries to get over it.

At first he acts like nothing happened. He still runs to tell you stuff as soon as he finds out something, and he always wants to take you on adventures. Sure, you broke up, but you’re still nakama, right?

Nami explains to him that you need some time before things will go back to a sense of normal, and Luffy agrees to give you space. But god, he hates it. He’s so lonely.

One night, he can’t take it anymore. He knows it’s your night to keep watch, and he joins you in the crow’s nest. He knows he should let you be, but he has to try one more thing.

“Do you think you’ll ever forgive me?” he asked, looking out over the stars.

“I’ve already forgiven you, Luffy.” Your voice is sad, and he knows that you’ve been lonely too.

He turns to look at you, eyes wide and heart beating hard in his chest. “Do you think we’ll ever be together again?”

“I-” you stop, captivated by his wide, hopeful eyes. “I don’t know,” you answered truthfully.

“I miss you,” he admitted. “I miss you so much. I hate going to bed and I hate not being around you during the day. I hate when I find a cool bug and I can’t show it to you, or when we visit an island and you don’t join me on an adventure. I just want things to be normal again. I’ll do anything, please.”

“I want to be with you, Luffy,” you said. “I just-”

He lunged for you, his lips attacking you with desperation and eagerness. You can feel his words turning into actions; you can feel how much he has longed to kiss you and touch your skin again. And maybe, just maybe, it’ll work out this time.

Zoro

Zoro didn’t think you were serious when you said it was over. So, when he went into his room and couldn’t find any of your things, he was confused.

He sought you out, curious. “Hey, where’s your stuff?”

But you just rolled your eyes. “Get it through your brain Zoro. Unlike you, I say what I mean. We’re over.”

Oh. That last fight had been a breakup fight. Now he understood.

But he saw the pain in your eyes. He knew you didn’t want this outcome. So he’d just have to prove that he was worthy of you

He doesn’t beg for you back, but he keeps his word with everything he does.

When you ask him to do something, he does it. Hell, even if the cook asks him to do something, he does it without complaint (especially if you’re in the room). He always keeps his word. Always.

Part of him acts like nothing happened. He still shares booze with you, naps near you, laughs with you. But he won’t ask for you back. Even if its the only thing he wants.

After about a month, he’s had enough. It’s just the two of you on the ship, watching the Sunny as the others run off to the island.

“When are we going to go back to normal?” he demands, storming up to you. “Don’t you think we’ve been apart for too long?”

“I told you, Zoro-”

“Don’t say it.” His voice was gruff as he pushed you up against the wall and pinned you there with his own body. “Please, don’t say it.”

“We’re bad for each other,” you whispered, trying to ignore the mess of emotions you were feeling at the moment.

“We’re not,” he argued. “I swear we’re not. Let me prove it.” His lips hover over your mouth, waiting for permission. “Please, let me prove it.”

“One more cha-” His lips crash into yours, and you find yourself melting into the touch you had missed so much over the past few weeks.

Sanji

This man is the best at apologies. He knows no shame and smothers you in love.

Every morning, you get an immaculate breakfast. Your snacks and desserts are the ones he knows you adore. You are pampered beyond your wildest imagination (which is impressive after dating Sanji for so long. You thought you had seen it all.)

Fresh flowers at your bedside every morning (where is he getting all of these flowers??). Rose petals lead to your bedroom at night. You’d think you were on a honeymoon.

It’s almost annoying. It’s almost too much. But Sanji knows when he’s starting to become annoying, and he’ll let up slightly, just long enough for you to calm down. And then he’ll start back up again.

The biggest thing for you though, is the next time you go onto an island.

His eyes stay on you. They hardly even linger as he walks with you, Nami, and Usopp through the shopping district.

If any pretty ladies walk by, he doesn’t even bother to look. He’s so captivated by you that he doesn’t even notice anyone else.

While your back is turned or while you’re shopping, he doesn’t even gawk at any islanders (Nami and Usopp watch him for ANY hint of flirtation. There is NONE.)

He only vanishes for a brief moment in a jewelry store, coming back with a little bag of his own. “Cufflinks,” he explains. “My other ones broke.”

When you all get back to the ship, he pulls you aside and gives you a bracelet full of aquamarine stones that reminds you of his eyes.

“Please, be mine again,” he begs, holding the box out. “It hurt to breathe without you. I need you. Please.”

“Sanji,” you breathe out. “It’s beautiful.”

“Just like you,” he whispers. “Y/N, I’m so-”

You jump into his arms, pushing your lips against his. You missed that sweet taste of vanilla that was always on his tongue, and you had a feeling you wouldn’t ever have to go without it again.

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cheriladycl01 · 5 months

Text

No because that hurt me! Lando Norris x Girlfriend! Reader Part 2

Plot: Lando goes one step too far ...

Credit to purplephantomwolf for the GIF

As you'd promised you'd gone straight back to London, you thrown yourself into your work. You spent the days on the construction sight for the new house you were flipping, overseeing the progress. You spent the evenings in the studio working on more plans for the interior of the house.

But you did miss him, of course you missed him.

He was your person ...

Your guy...

The love of your life.

In the time that you'd come home however, videos had surfaced, many videos had surfaced...

The first was of you and Lando in the club, someone from a table across from the one your friends had been sat in showed how Lando had acted towards you and how his friends had tried to back you up. The next was of you running up to Alex, begging for a lift.

Afterwards, videos were leaked of the rest of Lando's night where he celebrated his win, by dancing with his friends and random girls that were being pulled into the big group. Nothing scandalous but enough to upset the fans who really liked you.

Later on, after the first few videos came out a video came out of Max Fewtrell and him arguing before him and Pietra left. Max actually pushed him a little and lots of hand gestures were flying round, but Lando looked just as angry as Max did.

Normally when you were in London, people knew they'd get content on your Instagram stories of you doing what you do best. People had suggested you to start a YouTube because your live's and reels were so funny that they'd definitely spend the time watching.

But you'd been dark since the argument with Lando and people were getting worried including Lando. So when you posted a titkok with your team, in the trend that AstonMartin did where the camera is up high above and you all do funny things, the media went crazy.

You then posted a video on instagram talking about the new house and the progress that was coming on.

"Hey guys! Y/N here! Just wanted to show you how the latest project is coming on. We've torn down the living room and put all new flooring in, which actually has built in underfloor heating which i think here in the UK is a real money move. We're going to hook it all up to a central network from the hallway as you walk in, which we finally finished the painting for that last week" you pan showing the round the areas you'd been talking about.

You showed you and one of the girls tearing down the kitchen.

Captioned 'Best Part of the Job, Free Rage Room', which is how you'd always referred to the demolition phase of house flipping. People on twitter of course took it out of context and rumors started flying that you and Lando had in fact called it splits, even one of those WAG update pages 'confirming' the breakup from close sources.

You'd found it laughable really, but you knew it would be hurting Lando, and no matter how much he hurt you ... you weren't a bitter person. You didn't want him hurting as well.

You were sat in your studio at your desk, sketching for the garden. The pen was currently in your mouth, sat back debating whether you should reach out to Lando or wait for him to come to you.

It had been three weeks at this point with no communication. You'd spoken to Lando's family, who had talked with you about everything that had happened. Cisca and Adam had apologized for their sons behavior.

As you were about to pick up your phone, caving in to messaging Lando first when you swore you wouldn't on knock on your wooden studio door sounds.

You frown, wondering who on earth would be coming to you at this time of the night. You weren't even open, office hours were long over. It was about 11pm, so your clients knew you weren't taking calls even though you were still here and working with a light on.

You open the door, bolt and latch on for added protection.

"Lando?" you ask seeing the curly haired boy, hoodie up and his eyes looking more tired than you'd ever seen them.

"You want to open up and let me in baby?" he asks softly, a slight crack to his voice.

"I was just about to call you" you admit, unlatching the door so it swings open fully. He stops just under the arch of the door observing you. It was like he was having a small inward debate with himself.

"Gonna cave coz you miss me?" he jokes, testing the waters. He didn't know how you were now that you'd have some time apart. He was hopeful that he could talk to you again and fix what had happened.

"Honestly yeah. I hate you and how much of a hold you have on me" you admit, leaning back into your chair directing him to the sofa.

"I came here, to say I'm sorry and that I was horrible to you. And I know it's not excuse but I want to explain what happened. In full... I think you deserve more than an explanation... but I think you need one for if we are ever going to go back to what we were" he sighs. He leans forward and takes your hand into his.

He explains how, after the race people told him you'd said you were leaving the race track. So he went to the hotel to find you, only for you not to be there, Max came round and said you were probably getting ready with the girls as P had told him you were all gonna meet them there.

"I didn't think this was too out of the ordinary for you, your especially close with P and Lily, and it wouldn't shock me if Kelly and Kika would drag you all into a girl pre-club party in their hotel room..." he laughs knowing that normally you and P would do each other's makeup when Max and her came to race weekends. Or you and Lily would switch outfit's loving to venture into each other's styles.

When he got to the club and no-one had seen you, and Pierre and Charles had come up to him with celebratory shots, he hadn't declined.

"The shots were the start of what slowly just went downhill, I don't think i ever want to drink that much again, I was so happy at the start" he laughs flushing red and the thought of him knocking back shots, which was rare considering he didn't like to drink. He wouldn't be doing it anytime soon that was for sure.

"You deserved to celebrate though baby, don't make it seem like you shouldn't have had a fun night" you admit, both of you were being open and mature adults right now. You were so glad you'd both spent some time apart to think before you fought more, now you were both talking and listening to each other and you couldn't help but think it was beautiful and intimate.

After the three hour mark he was fed up that you hadn't bothered to show up at such an important night for him. Talking to Charles and Pierre who were also drunk, weren't the best influences on suggesting places you could be. All of them being ones his drunk mind could picture vividly, his sober mind would have known his girl would never dream of doing that to him.

"Charles said some things and I know sober me would have known you wouldn't do that, but i was already angry thinking you'd just ditched me. I shouldn't have drunk as much and I know its no excuse... but" he starts and you nod.

"The main thing is you know how you would have acted. Yes you upset me, yes your hurt me because you said some horrible things to me..."

"Yeah, I've heard the video and It wasn't my intention to embarrass you the way I did, especially in front of our friends. I'm so so sorry!" he admits.

The other group, had tried to convince him that maybe you'd just got held up and thats where Oscar, Lily, Max and P had all messaged you.

"Baby, I'm so so sorry that i wasn't there for you after what happened!" he says tears in his eyes. This would forever be one of his biggest regrets in life, not being there for you when you needed him.

"How did you find out?" you gulp, not really wanting to think about what could have happened that night if it wasn't for the Mclaren Mechanics.

"Well, after having a scolding from Oscar, and Max, and Alex, and Zac... the mechanics also threatened to botch my pit stops. So i listened to what they did for you"

"Mmmm it was scary. All i wanted was you" you nod, rubbing a thumb across his hand.

"I'm so so sorry, I promised you that i'd protect you always. And I've failed!" he says with a little snivel and tears brimming his eyes.

"You've not failed, you just made a mistake, there's been some miscommunication and Charles and Pierre didn't help with their boyish meddling but ... we'll get there" you smile before pulling closer to him and nuzzling into his neck breathing in his sent.

"Do you think you'll ever forgive me?" he asks softly pulling you back so he can fully look at you.

"I already have, darling" you smile.

"What did i ever do to deserve you, I don't think i do" he smiles.

"Hmmmm, well I think the historians will argue one day its me who didn't deserve you" you sigh, brushing some of his hair back.

"I doubt that" he scoffs, knowing that when you first started dating, even with your lack of status people still thought you were too kind, too sweet and too innocent for someone as jokey and brash as Lando was seen to be.

"I've never had anyone treat me the way you do, I'm so so in love with you. And I don't ever want the feelings I have when i think of you and see you to stop. I feel like i can do anything when i have you by my side. Why do you think the first person i seeked out was you?" you offer, softly leaning in and placing a kiss on the corner of his lips.

You guys, talked more that night. About how you actually had fun helping the Mclaren boys pack up, regardless if you thought Lando had forgotten about you.

A week later and the media had picked up on the sighting the paps had got of both of you. Some fans had seen you both at a restaurant and make posts on it.

The comments bashed you either way, being between saying how silly you were for taking him back or the others saying they were upset you were back. It got to the point where you had to release a statement saying that you and Lando, are grown adults who can talk through the miscommunication and issues you'd experienced and were better for it now.

"I love you so much, and I'm never ever ever acting up like that again" he says as you help him do up his fire suit for the race you were currently at with him.

"I love you too, now go out and get another win for me baby so we can celebrate properly this time" you smile, kissing him before Jon comes forward asking for Lando's presence in the front of the garage.

A/N: I hope you guys think this did the first part justice as so many people requested a Part 2, so I'm really scared that this hasn't done it justice! If you want a rewrite with something better... something longer where its more of a series. Or where it goes the opposite way and it takes her longer to forgive him let me know. I just thought that Y/N and Lando in this one specifically would be the type to maturely talk about things!

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