Tumgik
#and I’m out of containers so no silencers
letstrip-teamblue · 2 days
Text
Treat you like a lady
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
• Your boyfriend doesn’t pay enough attention to you. Chris doesn’t like that.
• This is extremely cheesy!! That’s just how I am. Contains smut.
• Word count: 2,031
Tumblr media
Sunday
Today is a weekend like any other; you’re lounging on the triplets’ couch.
The tv is playing as background noise. Chris is on his laptop working on new Fresh Love designs while you lay next to him scrolling pinterest. You've known each other long enough that you can enjoy each other's company without forcing conversation. Simply being around him allows you to relax, and vice versa. You can’t find that with many people.
A sex scene causes the pair of you to look up. You exchange looks and chuckle like teenagers at it.
Chris breaks the awkward silence.
“Is it actually that good or is she playing it up?”
“Don’t know.” I shrug and go back to my phone.
I can see Chris’s brows furrow from my peripheral vision.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I’ve never had a guy go down on me before.”
“What?”
You look up from your phone.
“…What.” You echo.
“No, what do you mean you’ve never had head before? You have a boyfriend. You’ve had a boyfriend for 3 months.”
Your cheeks get warm.
Think of a way to brush this off.
“It’s not a big deal. Not everyone’s into that.”
He seems stunned, gaze focused on his sneakers.
“... Do you do it for him?”
A sigh leaves your lips, “Chris-”
“No, listen to me. If he’s not reciprocating then the problem clearly isn't that he's uncomfortable. It's that he's selfish.”
Who does Chris think he is that he can judge your love life?
“This is none of your business.” You scoff.
“I think I should go.” You stand up and grab your bag.
Chris doesn’t give up yet.
“Okay, forget about that part for a second. When’s the last time he took you out? When's the last time he surprised you?”
You're struggling to swallow down a still-beating heart. You're avoiding eye contact with an angry version of one of your closest friends, and you’re trying to block out the possibility that what he's saying could be true.
“I’ll see you later, Chris.”
7:00 pm
Chris: I'm sorry. I overstepped earlier. just think you deserve better.
You read and reread the message. Typing out a reply and deleting it. Maybe what you need is space. You put your phone on do not disturb and crawl under the covers.
Trying to distance yourself from Chris would prove to be a waste of time because you end up having a dream about him.
“Hey gorgeous” a voice whispers in your ear.
It sounds familiar but there’s no one else with you in this room, so you can’t match the voice with a face. Whoever it’s coming from, their voice sounds like silk.
You're twisting your head around to try and find the source. Whoever’s in here with you finds that amusing because laughter follows.
“I'm over here, goof.”
It’s him. He walks over to you with a smile on his face and those big blue eyes.
“What are you doing here?” you asked
“I just missed you.” he says as he grabs your hand and twirls you around.
1:12 am
Well, that’s a first.
Monday
Chris opened the front door.
“Hey, I’m so glad you wanted to come over.” He said smiling.
Your face however wasn’t as cheerful.
“Yeah about that,”
You cleared your throat and walked inside.
“I think we should spend a little time apart. Like a refresh.”
His expression dropped instantly. You can’t keep eye contact. It’s too hard.
“What?”
“It’s not personal, it’s-”
“Did he put you up to this?”
“Chris , this is my relationship, stay out of it.” You say sternly.
“How can I when you’re all I think about?”
The air in the room gets thick.
“What?”
“I mean,” He scrunched his eyes and rubs his forehead. Flipping through the pages of his brain for the right words.
“I could treat you better than him.”
You laugh, “What are you talking about?”
He slowly brings his hand up and tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear.
“You know it’s true.”
He takes a step toward me, his breath on my cheeks.
“I can make you feel good.”
You involuntarily gulped, which caused him to smirk. He tries to hide it.
Your mouth moves but no sound emits from it. You feel paralyzed.
He must be bluffing… right?
“Let me show you.” he whispered, pulling you out of your thoughts.
You don’t know exactly when he stepped closer but your noses are now touching.
I need to stop this.
“I have a boyfriend.” You say in a meek voice.
Chris very lightly put his right hand on your stomach. You can feel the warmth of his large hand through your shirt.
“Does he make you nervous like I do?”
Chris' eyes fall to your lips.
“If you want me to stop, I will. Just say the word.”
Shit.
Soft, pink lips touch yours. You don’t kiss back but don’t run away either. Just wanting to take in the dimensions and texture of his lips. He starts to pull back.
Wait, don’t go anywhere.
You press your lips forward, chasing him.
It makes him smile into the kiss, which in turn makes you smile. The weird sensation causes you both to start laughing.
He straightens up.
“I wanna be with you too. Wo don’t know why I was ever with him in the first place.”
Chris can’t contain his smile. He covers his mouth.
“Sorry. I know I should be more… apologetic? I guess? But I’m not. I want you all to myself.”
“Yes, you've made that quite clear.”
You pull Chris back in for a kiss by his hoodie, it makes his insides stir. He places both his hands on the sides of your face, deepening the kiss.
You pull back for air.
“I should go tell him it’s over before things go any further.”
“Ok.”
But Chris goes right back to kissing you. Sliding his thumb across your cheek.
It’s so dreamy. You have to will yourself to stop.
“Ok I’m serious this time!” You chuckle. “Can I come back tonight?”
“I’d really like that.”
4:15 pm
Me: just left his house. whew.
Chris: im proud of u and so grateful.
6:00pm
“How long have you liked me?”
“Almost our entire friendship. I don’t think I realize it until you started dating Andrew.”
Laying on Chris’s chest is the happiest you’ve felt in months. You two have been talking about all the things that made you fall for each other. He’s been rubbing your back for the past 20 minutes but decides to put his hand under your shirt to enhance the feeling.
You sighed and relaxed even more on top of him, closing your eyes.
“Damn, you have some knots right here.”
“Ugh, yeah. That’s where I carry stress.”
“Here, lay on your stomach. I bet I can relieve it.”
Chris moves so you can lay flat. Once you’re comfortable he straddles your hips and brings his hand to the hem of your shirt.
“Is it ok if I bring this up?”
“Mhm.”
He lifts your shirt to where your bra starts ,then gets to work.
Maybe it’s the skin to skin contact, or the fact that your muscles were tense, but his hands feel heavenly. You can’t help but let out a string of sighs.
“That feeling good?”
“Yes, oh my god. Thank you so much.”
He chuckles. “Anything for my girl.”
After a few minutes of the same motions he decides to explore new territory.
He rubs his hands over your hips, your ribs, and now your thighs.
“Seems like there’s a lot of heat coming from your legs, baby.”
“You’re such a good massager it’s hardly my fault.” You tease back.
You try to close your legs together but he doesn’t like that. Keeping a hand right between them.
He brings his mouth right next to your ear. Lowering his voice.
“Do you need relief somewhere else, baby?”
While he talks he maneuvers his hand so it’s nearly flat against your clothed center.
You try to keep it together. You can’t already be at a loss for words.
You nod into his pillow.
“Turn over for me. Let me see that pretty face.”
Your cheeks heat up immediately as you position yourself on your back. The two of you make eye contact and any anxiety you had about intimacy with Chris is gone.
“We can stop whenever you want.” He says before kissing you.
“Let me show you how a real man behaves.”
He smirks and lowers himself to your stomach. Kissing your happy trail. Leaving tiny bites.
Since you’re wearing sweats he slides them off in seconds, taking your underwear with them. He tosses them over his shoulder and they hit some things in his dresser, causing them to fall. It makes you giggle but Chris is entranced by the sight before him.
“Jesus Christ.” He says to himself.
He runs his nose where your leg meets your hip. Kissing further and further. Creating a puddle before he even touches you. He licks your inner thighs. Painting them with purple marks.
Finally, his mouth is where you crave it. He’s apprehensive at first but once you let out your first moan it’s all over for him.
Chris sucks your clit and your mind goes blank. Nothing ever felt like this before.
“I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this from me.”
When he goes back down he licks a stripe from the bottom of your pussy to your clit.
Your back arches off the bed.
“That’s it.” he says into my skin.
He’s lapping at your folds like it’s water and he’s been in a drought. Grabbing onto your thighs to make sure you don’t go anywhere. Not that you'd want to, but his actions do cause quite a bit of squirming.
“God, you’re everything.”
It almost seemed like he was saying it to himself. Like he couldn’t believe youre real.
“Next time you want something done right, come to me.”
“Fuck yes.” You moan.
When he lifts his face up again, your juices are dripping down to his neck. You’re so mesmerized by the sight you don’t register what he's saying. It just sounds like white noise.
Chris tsks.
“Looks like I fucked you dumb, huh? Poor thing.”
“Shut up.”
You push his face back down. He starts fucking you with his tongue.
“Yes ma’am.”
Jesus
Your thighs tighten around his neck, he squeezes them back as a response.
“You taste so sweet, baby. Like syrup.”
You can’t do anything more than whimper and grind into his face.
Chris grabbed the hand that was clenching the bedsheets and guided it to his hair. You happily thread your fingers through.
He touches you like you're all he asked god for. The sounds coming from you are his favorite song. This is the alchemy he does.
“Oh god,” your voice goes up an octave.
“Are you gonna cum for me, pretty girl?”
“Please, so close.”
“Cmon, be a good girl and cum on my face.”
He made you a whimpering mess. Arousal dripping down your legs, down his lips, on the sheets. Chris continues to reach his tongue deep inside you while drawing figure eights on your clit.
In an instant your vision goes black.
The next minute was spent shaking and catching your breath. Goosebumps littered all over my body.
You don’t know when but at some point Chris must’ve turned you so you were laying on your side. He pulled a lightweight blanket over you and was now playing with your hair.
“Hey pretty girl.” He said softly as you opened your eyes.
“Hi”
“You did so well for me.” He kisses your forehead. “I’m so proud of you. Don’t move.”
He quickly wet a washcloth and grabbed a water bottle.
You could drift off to sleep at any moment, but Chris made sure to clean you up first.
It felt nice to be taken care of for once. He made sure you were warm enough. every few minutes he laid kisses on your face. You were too tired to say anything but he could see how happy you were. That was enough for him
278 notes · View notes
seungmoonandstars · 3 days
Text
…𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌
Tumblr media
dom!Kim Seungmin/female reader
wc: 1.8k
rating: explicit/18+ ✴ (contains: teasing, slapping, unprotected sex, face fucking)
─────────────⭒♡
Seungmin is as quiet as a mouse when he comes in late. Usually. There’s always the odd time here and there when his feet find something to trip on, and he wakes you before he gets to the bedroom, but he tries. And it doesn’t matter that he knows you want to see him as soon as he’s home, so he’s allowed to be loud. He just can’t do it. He's not quite the noisy puppy he is any other time.
But tonight you’re startled awake by the louder than usual click of the door; the kick of his shoes against the floor, and the drop of his bag.
You smile to yourself, but then wonder what he’s up to. So you get up, of course, throw a t-shirt over your head, find your slippers. He’s mostly in the dark, but you can see the glow of the refrigerator, and his ass sticking up in the air as he’s bent down to grab something.
Seungmin jumps when you speak up (“If you’re hungry I can—“) and you hear the clink of his beer bottle.
“Oh I woke you, I’m sorry.” He pops off the cap, but his eyes don’t leave yours. His lips turn up into a tiny smile, and his gaze is a little intense.
“It’s alright, I was trying to wait up anyway”
Silence. He takes a long drink.
“How was the recording? Was it a long day?”
He nods, “yeah, it was a long day. Long couple of days, actually.”
You know he’s a little off, and he knows that you know he’s a little off. Seungmin is all smiles and sweet talk when he comes home, every time, regardless of how tired he is.
“I’ll head back to bed. I have clean clothes out for you.”
“No, come here”
He somehow manages to sound quiet and loud at the same time. It sends a wave of goosebumps over your arms and up the back of your neck, and when you turn, he’s still staring into you. Straight through you.
You fold your arms over your chest and take a few steps toward him. His lips turn up a little more, and the dark makes him look as serious as you’ve ever seen him. There are still a few feet between you, and you close the space when he cocks an eyebrow and tilts his head—he doesn’t look like Minnie, though. This is Seungmin.
His hands slide roughly over your shoulders until he can hold either side of your neck. “Did you miss me?” He leans in, but not enough to kiss.
Fingertips knead against your hairline, and his thumb runs across your jaw.
“So much,” you whisper and groan when he kneads a little harder. “I missed you so much.”
“Good.” His smile grows, and his tongue pokes out to wet his lips. “…missed you more.”
“You had a bad day, didn’t you Min?” Your hands close over his, “we can…talk about it.” The look you give him isn’t a talking look, though. He knows that. “Work it out.”
Now he leans in a little closer, grazes his lips across yours, smiles. “Work it out…yeah.” The grip on your neck tightens as he kisses, slips his tongue over your teeth, and pushes it hard against yours. You can feel his groan—the shake of his chest and throat, as it fills your mouth. And he doesn’t let you take a fresh gulp of air, even when you squeeze his wrists and dig your nails in.
No, he moans even more. One hand drops and snakes around your waist. The hard tip of his cock presses against you as he pulls you close and paws at the hem of your shirt, and just as you expect him to bring it up and over your head, he stops. Both hands drop, leaving you cold.
He doesn’t say a word as he takes a step back and looks at you—just rubs at his lips with the heel of his hand, and sighs deeply.
“Seung—“
His finger presses against his lips.
You know pushing him a little will just make him go even harder… “mo.”
It takes him a moment to react, but when he does, he knocks the wind right out of you. Hands squeeze firmly…brutally into the back of your thighs. You can feel his nails breaking the skin as he lifts and wraps you around him.
He moves fast across the living room, and kicks the door open, with a grunt, to the dark bedroom
“Minnie”
But he drops you on the bed, still no words, stands there and watches as you squirm to get yourself onto the pillow. You change your mind, though, and slowly lift yourself, “Min…baby.” He lets you reach out and run a hand up his thigh, but his clothes are too much—too in the way.
“Go ahead.” He whispers it. There’s just enough light to see him biting down on his lip. “Take 'em off.”
You pull at the button of his jeans until it pops open, and the zipper follows easily. His dick is begging to be released, but when you go to pull, he grabs your wrist.
“Am I sweet enough for you?”
Soft voice, fingers pushing between yours until they’re laced together.
“Sweet?”
He taps his forefinger under your chin, and then slides it slowly down to your throat. “Sweet, I’m so sweet for you. Right?”
"Yes, Min…you’re always—''
“Get on your knees”
Your heart races, and a shiver runs all the way through you. And you do what he says. Legs fold up to your chest as you turn and crawl away from him, but you don’t look away. And he doesn’t look away. He’s pulling at the sides of his jeans, and you watch, hypnotized, as they slide down his hips and hit the floor. Now he’s crawling to you, and “down” comes out so low in his chest it sounds like a growl.
Elbows down and face in the pillow, you can feel the slow slide of your shirt up your torso, and then his fingertips ghost over your thigh. A squeak escapes when his hand comes down hard on your ass, and your legs shake. You’re blind to him, but you feel the careful movement of his fingers as your underwear is forced to the side. The fabric rips and Seungmin finishes the job.
He doesn’t slap, but he squeezes the pink mark he made until you whimper.
“Seungmiiin…”
You say it quietly, but the room is quieter.
“…my sweet Minnie”
Another slap lands in the same spot, and it stings. He’s holding back, but he doesn’t know how strong he is.
“Sweet…my sweet little pup—"
Two more before you can finish the thought. You’re forced down into the pillow as his cock pushes in, and from this angle it’s easy, but you whine for him, because the stretch is still a relief after so long without him.
“I know,” he purrs. “I know you missed me.” Seungmin takes his time, but it’s still rough. He didn’t give you enough time to prepare for him, and he’s certainly not going to wait, but there’s still something sweet and sensual about his speed, his movements—he can’t keep himself from a slow fuck no matter what kind of mood he’s in.
“What was that?” He leans forward when he hears a mumble come from the corner of your mouth, and one hand wraps around the back of your neck. He needs to make sure it wasn’t another tease. “What did you say, baby?”
“I—"
“Hm?”
You can’t get it out. Between his hands and his slow, hard thrusts, catching a lungful of air is a challenge, but you’ve been here before and you never disappoint him. Seungmin hits harder, once, twice…and then he’s off of you, and you inhale as all of his weight is gone. But his hands grab your hips and pull—push down, spread you open.
“Go ahead,” he says softly, a little mocking. You’re pulled down further and he hangs over you, licks his lips and smiles, “you love me, I know.”
The heat coming off of him is suffocating, but now you can breathe. Sweat blooms on his forehead, his chest, and you can see how hard his lungs are working, and his blood—the vein in his neck is jumping out at you, and you just want to touch him.
He snatches your wrist midair and pushes it against the bed. “No…relax, be quiet.”
You swallow hard and he climbs over your body, and you know exactly what he’s thinking. Before he even grabs his cock and settles over your chest, you lick your lips one last time, take a deep breath, and open up.
Fingers squeeze his hips as your mouth closes around him, but you don’t dare slow him down. You’ve been here enough times to know he’ll push in deeper, and harder.
“Good, that’s good. You like that, don’t you?”
You can’t answer, you can’t even nod for him, but the tears running down the side of your face are enough. He wipes at them, and runs the wet pad of his thumb across your cheek.
“You gonna make me come, hm? Right where it belongs…” he steadies himself on the headboard and rolls his hips.
You take every inch he gives you, work your tongue around him, do what you know he likes as well as you can. He’s not worried about lasting now, and he’s not concerned about the fireworks—Seungmin just wants to empty himself down your throat, so you make it happen.
“Fuck.” You can feel his thighs tremble, but it’s only a moment of weakness. He picks up his pace and groans when you take in more of him. His hips jump, and he slows down, and you’re filled up with him. Heat trickles down your throat as you attempt to swallow fast and breathe at the same time, but your chest is on fire, and he keeps fucking, slow and steady.
He gently slides his fingertips over your forehead and down your temple, “good girl,” he pants, and slowly pulls himself out.
As steadily as you can, you gasp for air and swallow. You’re usually good at keeping your composure for him, but you cough, and he smiles as he carefully moves to his side of the bed. And then he comes down and kisses you hard, and you can feel the smile still tugging at his lips.
“Seungmiiin,” you whine a little, plead for his attention, but he’s not giving in yet. He pulls the blanket up to his waist and relaxes against his pillow.
“Min…Min…baby”
“Hm?”
“I’m glad you’re home”
“Yeah,” he turns himself to face you and runs a hand through his sweat damp hair, “…yeah, I know.”
183 notes · View notes
amongemeraldclouds · 3 days
Text
Ruin The Friendship
A letter gets mailed to its intended recipient. A letter confessing your feelings. A letter you never meant to send.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Lorenzo Berkshire x Reader
Warning: fluff, no use of y/n
Author’s note: My final entry for the Hogmarch challenge, prompt five. This was such a fun challenge, thanks for hosting @thatdammchickennugget ♡ 1k words.
✿ Masterlist
Tumblr media
“What letter? I didn’t have any mail to send, Daisy,” I ask our house elf as she updates me about the chores she’s done for the day.
“The letter beneath your bed. Daisy found it and to thank you kind miss for saving Daisy from your father’s fury yesterday, Daisy went the extra mile to send it,” she announces proudly.
“You mean,” I whisper, a sinking feeling growing in my chest, “the letter containing my deep and honest thoughts and feelings, about the boy I love, that I swore to myself I would never - and I mean never - send?” I exhale, feeling the edges of a panic attack creep in.
Daisy frowns. “Sorry miss, Daisy did not know. Daisy thought she was helping,” she apologizes, cowering in the corner.
“Stand up, Daisy. I’m not going to hit you,” I reassure her. “But I could hit myself so I don’t have to attend class tomorrow and face the mortifying events that are sure to follow.”
I jump up from my bed and nod, waving my wand. I could do that.
“Miss, please!” Daisy pleads. “Don’t hurt yourself. It’s Daisy’s fault,” she hisses. “Stupid! Stupid! Stupid Daisy!” She chides, punctuating each word by banging her head against my drawers.
“Stop, Daisy,” I reach out, touching her shoulder. "Fine” I sigh, “no one is hurting themselves.”
I am just going to have to go to school tomorrow and die from shame.
The letter
My sweet Enzo,  It’s ironic you admire me for my bravery for taking down our childhood bullies and for being one of the top students in our DADA class. Yet here I am in a moment of weakness, thinking of you. Actually, even when I feel strong, defeated, or happy, I still think of you. In an ideal world, I’d be brave enough to tell you face to face. But we live in an imperfect world where hearts can break and relationships end, far more often than anyone would like. So if it saves our friendship, I can and must lock my heart away. I wish I can tell you when or how it happened, but I myself don’t understand. All I know is that I’m hopelessly in love with you. There, I said it.
The aftermath
I peer into Enzo’s dorm, head snaking past the door.
Please, please, please, let it be vacant. Let it be vacant, I chant in my head.
I sigh when silence greets me and move the rest of my body inside, sagging against the door in relief.
What are the odds that Enzo has already read a letter that just arrived this morning? He’s probably at quidditch practice, which means I still have a shot at saving myself from utter mortification. And more importantly, to save our friendship.
I scan his room and hurry towards the table littered with books, dried ink splotches stain the oak wood. If the letter were anywhere, it would be somewhere he—
I yelp when a door opens and turn towards Enzo stepping out from the bathroom with damp hair clinging to his scalp, water dripping down his sculpted chest, running along his toned abs. All hail quidditch.
He clears his throat and I bite my treacherous tongue - the one that unconsciously moved across my lips. Salazar, if I don’t get my act together, I won’t even need some stupid letter to reveal my feelings.
My cheeks burn as I return my gaze to his amused expression. “What the hell are you doing here and why are you naked?” I accuse. That’s right, I’m just blushing because I’m angry.
He adjusts the towel across his hips and I turn away, shoving the image of his toned figure from my mind, trying not to imagine whatever else is beneath his towel. “First of all, not naked,” he states.
“And more importantly, you’re asking me what I am doing, taking a shower, here in my dorm?” he points to the floor for emphasis. I wince and kick myself internally.
“I thought you’d be at quidditch practice,” I try. “I just - I just lost something and thought it might be with you.”
“What is it? I can help you look,” he offers, moving towards me and I step back.
“Enz please, put some clothes on first!” I plead, reminding myself to breathe.
I stop midstep when I feel something cool and solid behind me and I realize I’ve backed into a wall. Why the hell is Enzo prowling towards me like I’m his prey?
I close my eyes when he stops just in front of me, heat radiating from his body. I will myself to disappear, to fuse with the wall, to—
“By any chance,” he starts, “the thing you’re looking for. Is it white and made of paper—”
No, no, no, no, I chant this time, my eyes opening to stare at him in horror.
He continues, “the one with your handwriting scrawled inside?”
All the words leave my mind.
He smirks, “it would be a shame if you lost it and wanted it back because I rather liked it.”
“Y-you do?” I whisper.
His smirk gives way to a warm smile. “Darling, you’re more courageous than I am and I still admire you for your bravery. You managed to write it. Here’s my response: I love you too.”
“Well technically, I never meant to send it. It was Daisy,” I try to explain.
“So I have Daisy to thank. I’ll bring her flowers next time,” he says, making a mental note before continuing. “I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time too, but I was also worried it could ruin our friendship if you didn't feel the same.”
“Now that we’ve established we feel the same…” I begin but trail off when he rests his arm on the wall above me and leans in. My breath hitches.
“I won’t need my clothes until much later,” he ends my sentence.
It’s not what I was going to say but the second I open my lips to protest, his mouth crashes into mine and nothing else matters.
193 notes · View notes
mattslutt · 3 days
Text
SOBER UP
m.sturniolo
contains: fluff, alcohol, drugs, cursing, strong language, angst??.
summary: you get into an argument with your best friend matt while driving to the party. you get drunk and he takes care of you after the mess you caused. later on both of you confess your feelings.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
I was really looking forward to this party, I’ve been really stressed out for the past months and life has been a mess so I needed to get my mind off of things, at least for one night. Me and Matt were driving to the party, already being a bit late but that didn’t bother us.
With everything that has happened in the past six months, i felt miserable, especially after my sister passed away, i felt lost and i wanted to have fun tonight. So for the past months i fell into a horrible addiction due grief, guilt. I sneaked in some weed to smoke in my little purse so i lighted up the cigar. Matt noticed as he glanced at me for a few seconds and then his eyes went back on the road again.
“It’s getting bad again?”, he softly asked.
I didn’t notice, i blew the smoke out silently and looked at Matt for a few seconds.
“Helps me cope”, I answered shortly.
“How? How does this help you cope? It’s making you look worse, I’ve never seen you look this bad before”.
“Excuse me?”.
“I’m just saying”, if - , never mind”.
“No, go on, spit it out”.
He deeply sighed.
“If you want to end up like your sister then go on, I’m not gonna be there to save you.”
He was already pulling into the driveway where the party is happening. The car was completely silent, I just looked at him.
“You can go fuck yourself, Matt”, I got out of the car, slamming the door.
“No, wait - fuck.”, I heard Matt cursing under his breath but I walked away as fast as I could.
As I walked into the party I immediately went for drinks, taking the whole bottle of whiskey in my hands and walking away from people, drinking. I saw Matt standing in the crowd of people far away from me, he was looking at me and from his eyes i could read his expression, “don’t do that, don’t hurt yourself”, but I chose to ignore it. I continually drank and drank. I drank till I felt my head spinning, till I felt like my eye balls were about to pop out, till i felt like my legs are being connected. I fell to the ground and I felt my stomach grumbling, I knew I was about to throw up,‘ I tried getting up but it was too late.’
I started throwing up on the ground, nobody tried to help me expect a random girl that was close to me, my eyes were blurry but i swear i could see Matt comping closer to me. I felt arms wrap around my wait and I felt myself being held into someone’s hands. Suddenly I couldn’t hear the loud noises, it was quiet. I felt myself being laid on the bed.
“Whoever is doing this, thank you”, I managed to mumble out.
I heard the person deeply sigh, and it reminded me the way Matt would sigh. But I was too tired to think, talk or do anything so I feel asleep.
I woke up a few hours later, the party was still happening, I felt someone sleeping in the same bad as me. I immediately got up cause I panicked but I calmed down when I saw Matt sleeping next to me. I sat up and ran through my thoughts in silence.
“Hey, you awake?”, I heard Matt talking in his raspy voice.
“Yeah”, I answered silently.
“Hey, look at me”.
I turned to look at him, my makeup was washed off due to me sleeping in it, my hair was a mess and I still felt sick.
“Here”, Matt picked up a glass of water and gave it to me.
“Drink up”.
I slowly started drinking the water, Matt was looking at me, he really cared about me, he always did.
“All the way up”.
I did what he said and placed the glass next to the table that was close to me.
I had a pounding headache so it was hard for me to concentrate or remember what happened.
“What the hell even happened”, I rub my head while sighing.
“You kinda caused a scene”.
“Fucking hell, just what I needed”.
“You don’t need to worry about that right now, you need to rest up. We can chill here for another half an hour and then we can go home, okay? I’ll grab some food for you.”
“Okay, thanks”.
Matt walked out of the room, going downstairs to bring me food. Right now, I just realised that I also haven’t used my phone for hours so I needed to catch up. I saw it laying on the ground so it must have fallen out of my bag.
I got out of bed to pick up my phone and I laid on the bed again, scrolling through my phone. I was scrolling on my phone when Matt finally came back and brought me food. I saw a sandwich, some crackers and a bottle of water on his hands.
“Your favourite go to snacks”, Matt smiled while handing them to me.
“Thank you”, I smiled at him.
“Welcome”, he replied, sitting down onto the bed next to me.
“Now, eat up”.
I was very hungry so I finished the food in no time and I really wanted to get out of here.
“Can we go back to your place please? I really don’t wanna go home yet and I wanna stay the night”.
“Of course, you can stay as long as you need to.”
“My feet still hurts, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to walk”, I softly laugh at myself.
“C’mon, I’ll carry you”, he smiled at me while coming to the other side of the bed and picking me up to his arms.
“Do you have all of your stuff with you?”.
“Yeah, I think so”.
“Good, let’s go home now”.
With that, Matt softly carried me downstairs, we got through the crowd of people that still stayed at the party, we finally walked out of the party, getting closer to the driveway.
“Oh my god, finally, fresh air”.
Both of us laughed as Matt softly placed me onto the ground and opened the door for me.
“Get in, silly”.
The drive home wasn’t awkward at least, we listened to some music, I opened the window and raised my hands in the air along with my head. I relaxed my body completely, letting it rest on the car, I enjoyed the soft wind blowing through my hair. Matt noticed as he turned the music volume up. He kept glancing at me, his eyes were absolutely mermarised. I felt like his gaze was on me so I snuck my head into the car.
“Eyes on the road”, I giggled while looking at him.
“Sorry, you’re just -“, he didn’t finish the sentence, his eyes went back to the road again but he was smiling.
“So will you finish the sentence or no?”.
“Not until you fully sober up”.
I sat in silence until we reached the triplets house.
Matt pulled into his driveway and parked the car, we sat in silence for a few minutes.
“Can I be honest with you?”, Matt began to speak.
“Yeah, of course”.
“I didn’t mean in a bad way.. about what I said before the party. You know how close we were with your sister, we loved her so much but she started hurting herself, you know and…”, he didn’t finish the sentence, he just looked at me.
“I know, I know.”
“We already lost her, I don’t want to loose you too.”
My heart skipped a beat when I heard him say those words. Matt slowly got closer to me, brushing his hand through my hair.
“I care about you a lot, not as a friend, a lot more than that.”
“What are you saying?”, I asked him the question even tho I fully knew the answer, I just wanted to tease him.
“I love you a lot, I’ve wanted to tell you a while ago but I couldn’t bring myself up to do that”, his eyes were glued to mine, I could get lost in his eyes and the way he was looking at me was giving me butterflies.
“I wish I could kiss you right now but I don’t wanna do that until you’re fully -“, he was cut off by me placing my lips onto his.
“I love you too, Matt”.
Matt smiled as we rested each others foreheads together and squeezed each others arms.
“Don’t ever let me walk out of the car again after an argument”.
Matt softly chuckled at me and placed a soft kiss onto my forehead.
____________________________________________
guys i love writing fluffs omfg🥲 i definitely need to write them more. thank you so much for reading i love you all so much. the amount of followers im gaining in such short notice is mind blowing.💗
taglist: @lacysturniolo @plasticferal @sturnsblunt @sturncrazy @sturniolosstar @hoesformatt @westwiing13 @mbbsgf @freshloverr
65 notes · View notes
run-clever-boy · 1 day
Note
Can you write some snape x reader one shot ? Maybe something after war ? Or whatever you want 😁 Thank you.
Happy to! It’s what I’m here for :) Hope you like it! I’m so so so sorry for this taking forever. I’m gonna be honest it’s really hard for me to write for him so I’m trying my best babes! It’s not very long, but I would love feedback, and if you have suggestions I can do a rewrite!
He survived - Severus Snape
Tumblr media
Severus Snape x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Mostly fluff, mention of Severus’ near death, slight angst and comfort.
Summary: Severus retired from teaching and is opening a shop in Hogsmeade to sell his potions. You are currently still a teacher at Hogwarts and spend the weekend helping Severus prepare for the grand opening. (Set about 4 years after the war)
“Sev, I’m home!” You called out to the open space.
“Over here!” He shouts back. You walk toward his voice to find him organizing potion ingredients into his shelves. “How was the first week with the brats?”
“It went fine, it’s really odd not having you there” You go up to him and hug him from behind. “How close are you to being ready for the opening?”
“Pretty close, the one ingredient I’m missing is the bezoars. If Pippin’s Potions could get the supplies to me when they promised, we wouldn’t have this issue.” He sighs heavily, rubbing his forehead.
You get up on your toes and place a light kiss on his lips, hoping to relieve some worry. “Everything will be alright Sev, have patience.”
“Fine, I suppose you’re right.” He grunts out, kissing your forehead.
"Did you sleep last night?" You ask with a raised eyebrow.
He shrugs. You know he still has nightmares, flashbacks really, of the war. It’s been really hard for him to get past it. You are just now beginning to cope with the horrors you faced, so you can’t even begin to imagine what her went through.
You go up behind him and start to rub his shoulders. You could see him tense badly, but then he eased into it. He set down whatever potion he had in his hand and dropped his head back a little. You worked on the knots in his shoulders as he breathed heavily.
“Thank you, I really needed that” He says sincerely, placing a hand on yours.
“Let’s get this organizing done, shall we?” You pick up a box of potions and ingredients. “Lead the way”
He points at a nearby shelf labeled Healing and caries another box with you, barely containing his smirk.
▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄
You wake up in your bed in Hogsmeade, Severus nowhere in sight. You walk downstairs to the soon-to-be potion shop and see him fixing the order of some things.
“Good morning, Y/n” he says in his usual baritone voice.
“Good morning sev… uh… how did I make it to the bed last night?”
He chuckles to himself as he turns to face you.
“I kept you up pretty late helping get ready, you fell asleep on one of the new potion tables.”
“Oh sev, I’m so sorry-“
He holds up his hand “don’t be, the first week of classes is exhausting, I appreciate the help, love.” He walks toward you and places a chaste kiss on your lips.
“I didn’t see you in bed-” you start again
“Don’t.” He says pointedly, casting a fiery glare in your direction.
“Sev” You paused, knowing you’ve had this fight before. “You need help, you went through so much, I just want to help.”
He sighs, looking down from you. “I can’t help it, Y/n, I just can’t.” He places his hands on the edge of a counter and leans on them. “Every time I close my eyes all I can feel is…” he chokes up. Unable to say anymore.
You walk up to him and wrap your arms around his chest, sliding your hand into his hair and pulling him down into the embrace. You feel your clothes dampen from tears and your heart breaks. You whisper 'I love you' into his hair repeatedly, hoping he realizes how sincerely you have always meant them.
"What did I do to deserve you?"
“Everything”
You hold him tightly, not letting go until you know he has had enough. The comfortable silence envelopes you as you slowly separate from each other. You hold the sides of his face and plant a kiss on his cheek, backing up again to look into his eyes, just to double check that he is ok.
You grab a box and start heading toward the last of the empty shelves and he follows suit. You spend time carefully arranging each item into their respective shelves. Severus taught you his system, but you double check every details to make sure everything is exactly where it should be.
“The bezoars came in finally, love” Severus says with relief as he carries in a box from the front door. You knew he had been worried about getting all the supplies because of the shortage after the war.
You grab the box from him and go over to the ‘medicinal/healing’ section of the vast store, placing them in their respective positions, finally completing the last of the stock after many hours of work.
“I’m going to get some shut-eye before we open, wake me up so I can get ready, sev”
“Yes ma’am” he says, walking over briskly to give you a kiss before you go up to bed for some quick rest.
▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄
You had never seen a shop more alive in Hogsmeade in a long time. You had also never been more grateful for the bedroom just upstairs for your energy boost. Your students, both new and old, came pouring into the shop with cauldrons in hand. Severus was working the floor. As usual, he was making sure each kid got what they needed and made sure “no brats can break my potion bottles”. You worked the register, which was now overflowing with customers. You saw some old friends and familiar faces as well. Harry and Ginny came to congratulate us, with Ron and Hermione not fair behind them. Narcissa came with Draco, which wasn’t pleasant, but you were able to keep them fair enough away from Sev to keep the civility going. Over all the business flowing better than you could’ve ever imagined.
“That will be 15 galleons please” You say in a very professional voice.
“Thank you so much! This is just a darling little shop here!” The older lady you are serving responds.
“Be careful” You lean in and with a low voice respond “You don’t want Severus to hear that!” Giggling with the lady as she gathers up her things.
You look over to him as she leaves. He is floating around the shop in his usual dark billowing robes. He moves effortlessly from place to place, clearly busy, but beautifully in his element. He turns and meets your gaze from across the room and a soft smile plays on his lips. Something tells you that he is going to be alright. Contempt in the life you two were given. Most of all, you were happy that he was yours. That he survived.
24 notes · View notes
lolitakirstein · 10 hours
Text
Hey Neighbor Pt 11
sorry this took a while to get out. And I hope this is long enough but not excessively. feedback is so appreciated. love you :) Word count: 2.5k Warnings: language, drugs a SA references, mentions of gun.
“Thanks for taking me out. I had a great time.” You say once outside the restaurant. “Maybe we can do it again sometimes?”
Connor helps you put on your coat, the night becoming chilly in the 2 hours you spent enjoying wine and delicious food. “Of course.”
You hadn’t expected to actually be asked on a date with him. And so quickly. But once your phone chimed with a message from him asking if you would like to grab dinner, you couldn’t contain your excitement. The restaurant was more high-end than you were used to—dim lighting, a wine list, and exotic foods with names you couldn’t pronounce. 
The date had gone great, though you struggled to find out much about Connor.
I just moved here.
No, no family.
I’m an independent contractor.
I like all music.
He seemed more interested in learning more about you. You feel like you went through your whole biography—which was a problem you had. The moment a man seemed interested, you went all in, saying things too quickly or delving into too much detail. So sue me? I’ve been single for too long! So what if i may talk a bit too much.
The topic later turned to talk of your grandmother. Though they weren’t the usual questions a regular person might ask. His were more…precise. Blunt
What all did she leave you within the will? 
How much money did you inherit?
Any family heirlooms left behind?
Luckily, you kept that pretty close to the chest. Not doling out much except that you have moved into her home. 
Now, the two of you stand on the sidewalk facing each other. “Whenever you're free, just let me know” He steps forward, pulling your jacket closer around your neck against the wind. It was a sweet gesture. 
“Yeah,” you squeak, looking up at him. The moment is both exciting and scary. Is he going to make a move to kiss you? Should you go for it?
You catch him looking at your lips and think—to hell with it. You lean forward, closing your eyes. He does the same. Yes! You cheer to yourself
But before your lips can meet, he suddenly pulls away, clearing his throat. “Sorry, just—a lot of people around.”
You look around. No more than 5 people walk around. All of them lost in their own lives, not paying any attention to you. Heartdropping and suddenly humiliated, the moment turns awkward.
“Yeah, you're right,” you try to act nonchalant. 
After a few seconds of awkward silence, your phone chimes alerting you that your Uber has arrived. Thank fuck. You stare out the window as you're driven home. 
~
The glow from the laptop is the only light illuminating the room. 
“Maybe we can do it again sometime.”
“Of course.” 
The video feed is distorted. The camera is not quite centered but enough for Toji to make out the 2 figures it is aimed at—you and Connor…or Dmitri. The person, whom Toji acquired through Shiu, pretends to be on his phone while the camera hidden within his watch is pointed in y/n and Dmitri’s direction. 
The feed goes silent as the two of you shuffle awkwardly. Toji’s eyes grow wide and he moves closer to the screen as he sees you lean forward, preparing to kiss him. 
“Sorry, just—alot of people around.”
Toji releases the breath he was holding. The video may not be the best quality but there was no denying the slump of your shoulders. He can imagine the confused look on your face; he had seen before. It was cute how your brow furrowed and a slight pout crept into your lips. As happy as he was that you hadn’t kissed this sleazy dick, he knew that you’d still feel hurt. Knowing you were hurt, regardless of the cause, sparked a flame of anger deep in Toji’s chest. 
The feed showed you then getting into a Uber. Looking at his watch he assumed you’d be home in about 15 minutes. Tonight he would—
A knock at the door shakes his thoughts. He opens it to reveal his guest is the hacker from earlier holding a stack of folders. 
“Uhm, here’s a printed copy of the information I gathered today.” He hands them over. 
“Great, now go,” Toji closes the door in his face. He couldn’t risk being held up by his nerd talk. The folders contained, as promised, multiple government documents of Demetri Solokolov including mug shots, court testimonies, international IDs, and passports under different names. A part of him feels guilty for dropping this massive amount of information on you, but he would feel more guilty if something happened to you.
~
You thank your driver and exit the car. The streetlights glow overhead and illuminate your humiliating walk to your porch. Your cheeks burned with the embarrassment of being rejected. Luckily, no one was around to see you—-
“Hey, neighbor,” you hear from behind you. Turning, you see Toji leaning on his porch railing.
“You know I have a name.” You bark, not wanting to deal with him and his dumb quips. 
“I know,” he walks down the steps towards you. “Just fun seeing you get all sassy with me.”
“What’s that?” you gesture to the thick folder he's carrying. 
He shrugs, “My lines, been practicing all day.”
You roll your eyes and continue walking up to your door, unlocking it and stomping inside. “I’m not really in the mood to deal with your shit, neighbor .”
Toji stands at the threshold. The streetlights cast his enormous form in shadow. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, i said I don’t want to deal with you,” you toe off your shoes.
“Yeah?” he goads, a little smirk ticking his lip up. 
“Yeah!”
He leans against the doorway, “Then why’d you leave the door open?”
Damn he’s good. You consciously/subconsciously left it open. No you didn’t want to deal with him, yet…you wanted him around. Why? Who the fuck knows. 
“You want me to leave you alone? Come slam the door in my face?” He drops the folder on the table beside the front door and braces his arms against the top of the door frame. His shirt rides up, his pale skin stark against the tight black shirt he’s wearing. “Show me that sass.”
You slump, giving up. “Toji, please. I’ve had a bad evening. I’m going to bed.”
“What happened?”
“Like you care?” you snap, tears of frustration lining your eyes.
 Toji must notice and drops his arms to his side, narrowing his eyes. “Yeah, i do.”
You wave him off with your hand. “Whatever.”
“No whatever, tell me, y’n.”
You look up at the ceiling as if looking for what to do. Confide? Lie? But lying never seems to work with Toji so you give him the truth.
“Fine. I had a bad date.”
“Date huh?” 
“Yes a date. I’m not a nun.” you fight back. “I do have a life.”
“So what happened? He stand you up?” Toji goes on, still standing at the threshold of your front door. 
You groan in frustration, “Look, it just didn’t go how I wanted ok?”
“You didn’t hook up,” he says bluntly.
“NO!” you screech. “That was even on my mind!”
“Ok, fine” he chuckles. After a beat, he says, “Well maybe it was for the best, then.”
You scoff. He’s seriously trying to throw platitudes at you. “Whatever.”
“He was no good for you. Fuck him.” Toji says nonchanlatly. 
Now his lack of emotion was pissing you off. This time you snap. “How the fuck do you know? You don’t even know him! How do you know what's good for me and what isn’t.”
“And you know him so well already?” Toji finally steps into your house, now he is in your space. 
“Yes,” you bluff. 
Toji retrieves the folder he had thrown on the table, stomping towards you. “Yeah you know he’s a hired gun with ties to some of the worst crime lords in the country? Or that he’s involved in multiple trafficking rings? Both human and drug?” 
You move around the dining room table to put space between you. You don’t know if you're scared because of what he’s saying or the menacing way he’s stalking towards you. 
He slams down the folder on the table. “Oh, and I’m guessing you know he’s been accused of sexual assault, rape, blackmail? But you must’ve looked past that right?”
“You looked him up? How did you even know his name, you fucking psycho?” you shout and your eyes are the size of saucers as you flip through the folder laid in front of you. Indeed, pictures of Connor—though on these papers there are multiple names associated with him— some mug shots, passport photos, driver's licenses, even CCTV footage. The handsome face you were used to seeing was nowhere to be seen. Now, you stared at a man with dead eyes that held nothing but contempt and evil in them. 
“That—” Toji blinks, dumbfounded. “I just gave you a list of shit this fuckers done and your mad at me? I’m the psycho?”
“Yeah”
“For looking out for you?”
You turn away, unable to face him any longer. The anger you now felt at both Toji and Connor–Dmetri, John, Frank, whoever the fuck he was—is threatening to crush you into a million pieces. 
After a full minute of silence, Toji realizes you aren’t going to say anything else. “Fine.” He turns on his heel and everything in you wants to tell him to stay, but the lump in your throat prohibits you. 
You watch him storm to the front door, pausing, then turn to you. “I’m going out of town tomorrow. I’ll be gone for 3 weeks.” He reaches into his pocket and lays a scrap of paper on the entrance table. “Here’s a number. Call it if you need it or something—happens.”
Again you don’t respond because now the thought of Toji not being next door while a known killer can easily access you makes you uneasy. 
“Please be careful, y/n” Toji closes the door, leaving you to stand there while a million emotions flood around you. Hate, anger, fear, shame. How could you so easily have fallen into the trap of going out with a man who was pure evil? Killer, rapist, stalker. 
An hour later, after many tears and many lock checks, you finally crash on your bed, curling around your cat to feel some semblance of comfort~
~
The sound of a car door closing snaps you awake. You slept lightly anyway, any noise startling you. Climbing out of bed on weak limbs and going to the bathroom. Quickly, you brush your teeth and rush to the door, throwing it open. The clothes from last night were now wrinkled on your body since you hadn’t bothered to take them off. 
A black sedan sits outside Toji house with its trunk open. A man—the man you had seen before–lighting a cigarette while Toji loads his suitcase. You refuse to leave on the note you did last night. Throwing open the door you march to the vehicle, intent to say—well you didn’t know what to say. Perhaps you just wanted to see him again. 
“Ah, miss y/n. How are you dear?” The man says, cigarette dangling out of his mouth. “Forgive me for being late but my condolences on Mrs. Ruth. She was an extraordinary woman.”
Once again, you are too stunned to speak. How the fuck did he know your grandmother. You stare at the man, trying to match his face to someone you might know from days past. Nothing. 
He narrows his eyes at you, assessing you, before smiling. “My, you look just like her.”
I’ll deal with this later. You shake your head, ignoring him, and walk closer to toji. “Hey.”
Now, it appears he’s ignoring you. Not even looking at you as he continues loading his things into the car. 
“Be careful,” you repeat the words he gave you last night.
Still avoiding you, Toji unzips the luggage bag now loaded in the trunk. He reaches behind him and pulls out—
“Fuck,” you stumble back as he pulls the handgun from his waistband. 
He flips the safety on and removes the magazine, the glint of the loaded bullets shines brightly in the morning sun. The two pieces are placed in the luggage before he re-zips it. All the while you stand, mouth hanging open. How could he so brazenly pull a gun out?
Toji slams the trunk closer and steps by you as if you were nothing but a tree to maneuver around. He opens the passenger door and folds his large body in. Shiu tips his head at you with a simple goodbye before getting behind the wheel. He starts the engine and you realize then that Toji isn’t going to give you the time a day to say goodbye or whatever you wanted to say. 
Dipping your head, you walk back towards your house. The sound of the engine still idling at your back when you get to the bottom of your steps.  
“y/n” 
You turn at his voice, your heart kicking up. Toji has gotten out of the car, gripping the door in his hand. His mouth is set firm. You both stare at each other a beat. 
The next few moments happen in such a blur you can’t register what is happening. Toji rounds the car door and walks briskly to you, cupping your face and kissing you harshly. 
The heat of his mouth is intoxicating. As if sweet venom is laced on his lips, paralyzing you to the spot. Like a drug, you knew, in that moment, that you’ll forever be chasing the high of his kiss.
He pulls away sharply, still holding your face in his large calloused hands.  His eyes are filled with lust and almost something like angst as he stares into your widening eyes. 
“A real man will kiss you. No matter who’s looking.” He pushes something against your stomach and without looking you take it from his hands. 
With that he turns and marches back to the car, closing the door. The moment is over and you watch the vehicle drive past and up the road.
You look down at the item he placed in your hand.
An envelope. With the script you could find on every birthday card, Christmas tag, and celebratory letter you had. The familiar slant and flourish of the writing make your knees weak as you trace the ink with your hand.
 il mio agnellino
~
Toji eyes your shirking form in the passenger side mirror. A million things wanted to say still buzzing in his head. 
“At least she will finally know.” Shiu breaks the silence.
“Yeah,” he replies, watching you sliding your thumb into the envelope and prying it open. “She will.”
21 notes · View notes
foreverppl · 11 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Moodboard for my MC Evander for @uroboros-if
I so enjoyed playing this demo last night and have been having many Thoughts about it.
#it was so tough finding pics i thought would fit what i have in my head but this will do for now#i was up thinking abt this IF for soooo long it’s unreal#what is eternity?#unending time but also timelessness#like what does it mean to be the container for something that has no beginning or end?#the container is rendered useless obvi#but here the MC stands so there MUST be something to that right?#maybe it just means they must act as a witness to it all.#they are resigned to an existence of knowing and seeing things others do not and being unable to impact those things in any meaningful way#like an echo#like a black hole that is packed so densely with matter but appears to be little more than a void. Nothingness (capital N)#*me muttering to myself while reading and making this mb*: the symbols the symbols the cycles the void the echoes#the fact that when mc is summoned into existence one of the first things we can choose to have them do is replicate a smile (echoing)#idk if i’m explaining this well. tried to talk to my sister abt it without sounding like a madman and suffice to say that didn’t work out#i’m really losing it#those quotes from house of leaves: ‘divinity seems defined by echo.’ + ‘and where there is no echo there is no description of space or love#there is only silence.’#that bit from disco elysium#‘how do you measure something that doesn’t exist?’ ‘easy. you measure it by the world around it.’#evander is fond of mortals. they are humanity’s echo in the truest sense.#they are therefore in a very unique position for the conflict that is about to come#of course these are all just my interpretations and thoughts#my mcs#mb#mc: evander (uroboros)#if: uroboros
70 notes · View notes
angelfic · 7 months
Text
— THE WAY I LOVED YOU
Tumblr media Tumblr media
pairing: theodore nott x reader
summary: in which theodore nott will do anything to get you to go out with him, but you’re just as stubborn rejecting him
warnings: swearing, kissing, dangerous stunts and theo being stupid (ryan gosling in the notebook style), unedited since i wrote this in the middle of the night on no sleep again lol. enemies to lovers if you squint a bit
author’s note: since everyone loves theo i’ll pretend this isn’t just for my own selfish needs <3 (especially the notebook reference) also surprise surprise mc is a gryffindor as always, you’d never know i was a slytherin my bad guys… as always let me know what u think! enjoy, angels 💌
Tumblr media
The first time Theodore Nott asks you out, you spill a pot of ink directly into his lap.
It’s not like you meant to do it. But when there’s a Transfiguration worksheet to be getting on with, the Slytherin boy seated next to you by Professor McGonagall asking you out would surely take anyone by surprise.
The second you twist in your seat to look at him in shock, your arm slides the pot right off the desk and directly onto his grey trousers, instantly staining them with the black liquid before you have a chance to speak.
Your hands fly to your mouth to stifle your gasp and you look up at him, anticipating an angry glare in return. Instead, he looks mildly surprised at the ever-growing stain on his crotch, but mostly… amused?
“A simple ‘no’ would have sufficed, darling,” he says, raising an eyebrow and suppressing a smile.
You begin stuttering out an apology and scrambling for your wand to wave away the stain before you can do something stupid like attempting to rub it off with your sleeve. Your cheeks instantly heat up at the humiliating image now plaguing your mind and you barely contain a sigh of relief when you realise the lesson has finished.
It’s a miracle your shoes haven’t left scuff marks on the ground in a cartoonish trail with the speed at which you leave the classroom. Godric knows why Theo Nott of all people wants to ask you out, but since it can’t possibly be for any good reason, you’d rather not think about it too much. This, however, isn’t helped by Hermione pestering you about why you look so flustered for the entire walk to the Charms classroom.
Twenty minutes later, her attention is finally diverted. On the other hand, it’s because she’s berating you for accidentally burning the end of her left eyebrow off with a charm gone wrong.
The second time Theo asks you out, there are thankfully no ink pots around.
“Hey,” he whispers from behind you, making you jump within an inch of your life despite his low volume. You swivel in your chair to glare at him, incredulous. Seeing that he’s startled you, Theo grins. “Sorry. What are you doing?”
“Baking a cake,” you deadpan, once your heart has started beating at a normal pace again. Holding up your Potions book, you feel the annoyance start to seep in when Theo continues looking at you, undeterred. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
Apparently unfazed by your sarcasm, he drags out the chair next to you and spins it around to sit on it backwards. Settling his arms on top of the backrest, Theo rests his chin on them to look at you. “You never did answer my question.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumble, eyes scanning the page in front of you but taking in nothing. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to study-”
“Are you going to make me ask you again?” he sighs. You panic a little at his bluntness and continue pretending to read, not knowing what else to do. Theo takes your silence as encouragement and shuffles his chair closer to your own. “Go out with me.”
The arrogance practically drips off his voice, and the pit of anxiety in your stomach immediately turns into irritation instead. “No,” you grit out, slamming your potions book shut to scowl at him. “And I don’t hear you asking anything.”
“Okay,” Theo says slowly, nodding as though he understands. It’s clear that he doesn’t though, because the next words out of his mouth have you stunned. “Please, oh please, will you do me the absolute greatest honour of going out with me?”
”Merlin,” you exhale, pinching the bridge of your nose. Dropping your hands into your lap, you see no solution other than gathering your things to return to the common room. “You’re having me on…”
“I can assure you, I’m not,” Theo says quickly, stopping you from leaving by gently grabbing your elbow. You stop in your movements to catch him looking more unsure than you’ve ever seen, and you’ve never been more perplexed. “I’m completely serious right now. Go out with me?”
“Wh- I don’t even-” you sigh, cutting your senseless muttering off to cross your arms over your textbook. “Whatever happened to a simple ‘no’ sufficing, darling? Aren’t there a million other girls for you to go and pester? Godric knows you’ve got an entourage following you half the- What are you looking at?”
Amazingly, Theo’s expression has lost all trace of vulnerability and now displays a slightly faraway look, his signature lazy grin in full effect. “Sorry, I didn’t hear a word after you called me ‘darling’.”
Resisting the urge to hit him over the head with your textbook, you take a deep breath and grasp the potential weapon tighter in your hands before speaking. “As hard as it is for me to believe that girls actually fall for this rubbish, your history with them shows that they do. Don’t think for a second, I’m going to let you use me like they do.”
Theo considers your words for a few seconds, mulling them over as carefully as though he’s trying to solve a brain teaser. Eventually, he seems to come to a satisfying conclusion, because he tucks his hands into the pockets of his trousers and tilts his head. “So you need me to prove I’m serious about this… and then you’ll say yes?”
“Oh, for the love of-” Huffing, you turn on your heal without saying another word and storm out of the library. Theo doesn’t follow you, allowing you to clear your head and think about the incredibly odd interaction.
You’re climbing through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room when you realise you never actually refuted Theo and his theory to make you go out with him. Whether or not it was on purpose, you can’t quite decide.
Over the next few weeks, you start wishing you had stopped Theo before he could start trying to prove himself to you.
You can’t go a single day without the question of going out with him popping up. Much to your bewilderment, it isn’t always him asking. Sometimes it’s his friends, sometimes it’s students at the Gryffindor table who are sick of the multiple owls every morning flocking to your table with a note in their beaks. Sometimes it’s even your friends.
“I mean, really,” Hermione says at breakfast, huffy as always when reprimanding someone. “It’d be benefiting everyone if you just went out with him. Why don’t you, anyway?”
“He’s a Slytherin,” Ron butts in, talking to Hermione as though he’s explaining something to a child. He takes a gigantic bite of his toast before speaking, his next words coming out muffled. “Surely that’s reason enough.”
“No, that isn’t reason enough,” Hermione says sternly, furrowing her brows. “A good reason would have been all the girls he’s always with. Of course, that’s flown out the window recently. He’s also never given them as much attention now that I think about it.”
“He’s definitely not the worst of the group either,” Harry adds, leaning in as nosily as Ron. “Not like we’re talking about Malfoy…”
“Don’t you two have Quidditch tactics to be discussing?” you snap, exhausted by the subject already. The two boys hold up their hands in surrender, before shuffling down the bench. Whether that’s to be closer to the Quidditch team, or to get away from you before you start throwing hexes - you aren’t certain.
The fact you’re awake early in the morning on a Saturday isn’t helping your sour mood, and the Quidditch match being between Gryffindor and Slytherin only adds to this.
“We’d better go and get a good seat at the front, so we aren’t on our tiptoes for the whole game like last time,” Hermione says, already sliding off the bench. You give your cup of coffee one last longing look before you allow yourself to be dragged away.
You haven’t even made it onto the Quidditch pitch before you’re already wishing for that cup of coffee to give you strength, because you find none other than Theo standing outside the Great Hall in his green and silver Quidditch robes.
As soon as he spots you, Theo plasters on that charming smile of his and opens his mouth, no doubt to ask you if you could talk privately.
Hermione interjects before he gets the chance. “Don’t bother, I’m leaving.” She simply sighs when you look at her, betrayed. “He’d have convinced you anyway! I’ll save you a seat.”
You watch her leave, helplessly before turning to Theo and crossing your arms. “Yes?”
“I have a proposition for you,” he says simply, getting to the point. The proposition has, without a doubt, got something to do with you and him and a trip to Hogsmeade, but you gesture for him to continue nonetheless. You can’t deny it’s been entertaining watching Theo come up with new ways to ask you out these past few weeks. “I’ll throw the match and let your lot win if you go out with me.”
This startles a laugh out of you, something between a chortle and a gasp. “Oh, you cheeky bastard,” you exclaim, but you can’t help grinning. That was quite possibly the last thing you expected him to say. “First of all, I think my lot is perfectly capable of winning on their own. And secondly… as funny as it would be, I’d rather not have your death and Malfoy’s subsequent imprisonment in Azkaban be on my conscience.”
You only realise just how wide your smile is when it starts to fade under Theo’s unwavering gaze. His lips twitch up into a smile and you immediately frown as an automatic response. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You’re bantering with me,” Theo says, grinning as though he’s extremely pleased with himself. You realise with a jolt, that yes you were bantering. “One step closer to agreeing to go out with me.”
“That’s not happening,” you protest, but it sounds fairly weak, even to you. “Like I keep telling you, I’m not going to be one of those girls.”
Theo shrugs. “And I think you already know you’re not one of those girls. It’s fine, I can wait.”
The relaxed manner in which he says this has you flabbergasted to say the least. Truthfully, you aren’t completely sure why you haven’t just agreed at this point. No one in the whole school is used to witnessing such extravagant displays from Theodore Nott, so you’ve accepted the fact you’re an outlier in this particular subject area. You’re starting to think Hermione’s right, and it’s pure stubbornness that’s keeping you going.
“You’ll be waiting a long time then,” you say, giving Theo a bland smile.
“Nah,” is all he says, the smile still gracing his unperturbed face. “Keep an eye out for me in the Quidditch stands.”
Theo winks at you before walking away in the direction of the pitch and you linger in the castle for a good few minutes before snapping out of it and walking in the same direction.
You find Hermione quickly at the front of the Gryffindor stand and you’re about to ask how long until the game starts when Lee Jordan’s voice begins to boom from the commentator stand.
“Strong start for Gryffindor with Katie Bell taking the Quaffle and- nope, Vaisey’s taken it and passed it onto Urquhart, his fellow Chaser and the new Slytherin captain.” You’re thankful for Lee’s commentary as it’s easy to follow and you probably wouldn’t have a clue if it weren’t for him. Surprisingly, he keeps it professional enough for a while. “Ginny Weasley tries to take the Quaffle after a near hit there to Urquhart, thanks to new Gryffindor Beater Jimmy Peakes and that very solid Bludger over there. Unfortunately, he missed-”
“JORDAN.”
“Sorry, Professor McGonagall, I meant fortunately. Slytherin Chaser Mattheo Riddle now has the Quaffle and seems to be aiming to score and- oops! He’s missed, thanks to Gryffindor Keeper Ron Weasley. Good on you, Weasley,” Lee says, unable to be impartial as shown by McGonagall’s glare. “As for the Slytherin Keeper, Nott seems to be distracted by something in the Gryffindor stands. Or should I say someone.”
Laughter echoes in every stand, much to your utter humiliation and some people even start whooping and cheering in your direction. Theo’s antics are common knowledge at this point, but it doesn’t make the laughter any less embarrassing. You try and maintain a shred of dignity by standing still and glaring as hard as you can at Theo. Horrifyingly, he starts to fly in your direction.
Lee looks at McGonagall before speaking, but she merely shrugs helplessly, looking flustered herself. “Er, well it seems Slytherin are open for Gryffindor to score. No one seems to be taking advantage, however, as I think I can speak for everyone when I say we want to know what’s going on with Nott and Y/N.”
Glancing at the others, you realise Lee is right and all the players are hovering in place, making no move to continue the game. They look partly confused, but mostly nosy.
Theo stops just outside the Gryffindor stand, his attention focused wholly on you. You raise both eyebrows in question, waiting for him to speak. “Go out with me.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t quite hear what Nott is saying, but I think we can all guess he’s asking her out again,” Lee says, causing a few more cheers and even a couple groans. “Take the hint, mate.”
“Theo, get back to the game!” you hiss, wrapping your arms around you as if it’ll shield you from everyone’s eyes. “You’re embarrassing m- What the fuck are you doing!”
Theo swings a leg over the side of his broomstick so that he’s sitting completely facing you, legs dangling dangerously off one side. Lee sits up a little in his booth and McGonagall looks positively horrified. “For unknown reasons, Nott is balancing precariously in a position no Quidditch player wants to- Merlin, he’s hanging off his broomstick!”
Everyone in the crowd screams and shouts when Theo slips off his broomstick, but they quieten down and watch with fright when they see he’s still holding on with both hands. You think you’re going to faint.
“Theo,” you plead, with the same voice you’d use to coax a bloody kitten out of a tree. “Get back on your broomstick. Please.”
“Only if you go out with me,” Theo says, eyes determined despite breathing a little heavier. The broomstick is thin and despite his strength, it’d be hard for anyone to maintain a grip for long. “Say you’ll go out with me and I’ll get back on.”
“Just say it!” Hermione grabs you by the shoulder to shake you.
Professor McGonagall seems to have shaken out of her previous daze and begins scrambling around for her wand while Lee narrows his eyes to better assess the situation. “Godric, Y/N. Just say ‘yes’ and end everyone’s misery already.”
“But…” you trail off, hands shaking as you keep your eyes on Theo’s white knuckles still gripping the broom. “I don’t want to encourage this stupid behaviour.”
Theo rolls his eyes as though he can’t believe you’re still objecting. He shakes his head at you, though his chest is shaking with laughter. “Go out with me, and I swear I’ll never do anything stupid again. Fucking hell, I’ll quit Quidditch altogether if you want.”
You open your mouth to say something, you’re not sure what, but before you can get a word out, Seamus Finnigan pipes up from beside you. “Personally, I say let him fall off the bloody thing.”
Tutting, you turn to Theo just to find the idiot raising an eyebrow challengingly. His left hand begins to loosen on the broomstick, deliberately.
“Theo, don’t you dare.”
He drops his left hand completely and you scream, the noise drowned out by everyone else’s yells.
“OKAY!” you yelp, heart in throat as you watch Theo dangling from his broomstick with one hand, clearly struggling. “Okay, I’ll go out with you, you stubborn idiot!”
The Gryffindors that hear you, begin to cheer, setting off the other houses and once McGonagall sees Theo begin to pull himself up on his broomstick, she visibly relaxes, slumping in her seat as she clutches her chest. Lee soon gets the message. “Finally, after a good month of watching Nott pine pathetically, Y/N has agreed to go out with the poor bast- Er, beggar. Sorry, Professor. By the way Nott, you’ve got detention for a week.”
Now sitting normally on his broomstick, Theo grins at you like the cheeky bastard that he is, with elation clear as day on his face. You struggle to fight off your own grin and you can tell by his expression you’re not doing a very good job at it. “Pull something like that again and I’ll push you off your broomstick myself,” you warn him, though it lacks any real threat. You were more worried than angry, and it definitely shows. “Okay?”
“No more stupid behaviour,” Theo promises, sounding sincere as he nods, messy hair falling into his eyes. The wind blows it out of the way almost immediately and you find yourself wanting to do it with your fingers. “After this, though.”
You furrow your brows as Theo flies close enough to the Gryffindor stand to get off his broomstick and hop right into the crowd, landing next to you. Broomstick in hand, Theo doesn’t take his eyes off you when he holds it out to Hermione. “If you don’t mind, Granger.”
Clearly baffled, Hermione gingerly takes the broomstick from him and watches the two of you, as enraptured as the rest of the school.
You face Theo properly, looking up at his eyes to see them glittering with pride and achievement. You tilt your head in question, wondering why he hasn’t yet returned to the game.
Theo answers you by gripping your waist to pull you into a stupidly dramatic, dizzying, wonderful kiss. His lips are soft against your own and cold from the wind, but the shiver that runs down your spine has nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the way Theo is pressed against you.
You could go on forever, but the cheers and claps and hollering around you remind you that you’re surrounded by all your peers and, Godric, your teachers.
Pulling away, you clear your throat and attempt to gain back some of your dignity by keeping a serious face. Theo attempts nothing of the sort as he’s still wearing a silly grin. You try and avoid his eyes for the sake of your nerves and you mutter the first thing that comes to mind. “Erm, good luck then. I hope you win.”
This is the wrong thing to say surrounded by your fellow Gryffindors as a few of them boo at you.
Theo rolls his eyes at the dramatics, while you simply scowl, pointedly at Seamus who seems to have boo’ed the loudest. Hermione is beaming at you when she hands Theo back his broomstick, though she also gives a little frown directed at Seamus.
Getting back on his broomstick, Theo hovers near you outside the stand. You lower your voice to a whisper that only he can hear. “I still hope you win.”
Theo shrugs, looking more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him during a Quidditch game. “I’ve already won, darling.”
© angelfic 2023.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
9K notes · View notes
chikaras-garden · 7 months
Text
Batboys as your sugar daddy
Tumblr media
What’s the point of all this money if you don’t have someone to spend it on?
Tumblr media
Pairings: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake x fem!reader
Contains: Sugar daddies. Possessive, controlling men. Power imbalances. They’re all a little toxic. These relationships are not aspirational babes. Oral sex (f!receiving) in Dick’s.
Notes: 18+ or you’ll be blocked.
Tumblr media
BRUCE WAYNE 💋
“Wear the diamonds,” Bruce rumbles from behind you, lips right next to the shell of your ear. Before you can answer, his warm hands are already on your throat, and cool platinum touches your skin. A hundred diamonds arranged in three dainty layers sparkle in the low light of Bruce’s bedroom, clinging tightly to your neck.
With the choker clasped in place, one of Bruce’s hands traces up and down your neck while the other rests heavily on your hip, holding you flush against his chest. His touch is hypnotic, pulling you in like a planet pulls a moon into orbit. Your whole world revolves around him—and that’s exactly how he likes it.
But like the moon, the subtle gravitational pull you have on him keeps him in place, keeps him stable, calms his most wicked of storms.
He bows his head. The way he looks at you through his eyelashes is almost reverent while he kisses your bare shoulder, skin interrupted only by your dress’s hair-thin silk strap.
“Beautiful,” he says, and you know he’s not talking about the necklace, the dress, or any of the other jewels and silks he’s drowned you in over the last year.
When your eyes meet in the mirror, one corner of his lips quirks up into a smirk, which he buries under a kiss to your jaw. 
There, with a quick, sharp nip of his teeth, he lays his claim. “And all mine.”
DICK GRAYSON 💋
Dick’s on his knees, head buried between your legs when you hear—feel—him say, “I need you to take a week off work.”
Well. What he really needs is for you to just quit your job already, but you got upset the last time he suggested it. Baby steps. For now.
“Why?” you gasp, blinking hard as you try to focus on the fact that he’s starting a conversation now when his tongue is making you smart and shake with pleasure.
“I want to go to the Maldives,” he says as if it’s the most inconsequential thing in the world, as if he’s saying he wants to go across town, not across the world.
His tongue flattens out and dips into your weeping hole, and your thighs tighten around his head in response. He groans, and you choke out, “A week for the Maldives?”
You feel his lips twist and curve around you, paired with a little graze of teeth; he’s smiling, and the sensation makes you dizzy. There it is, he wants to say. You want more. Finally, your expectations are starting to match his bank account.
But he decides to play the dumb, pretty boyfriend he likes to make people think he is. “You don’t think it’s enough time? Wanna take two weeks?”
“I don’t have the—” He kisses up to your clit and gives it a tentative little suck, which makes you fist his hair. “—vacation days.”
“Why don’t you just take them without pay?” he proposes as his tongue laves up your swollen sex. “It’ll be okay, just this once. You’ll feel so much better after some time off; I promise.”
JASON TODD 💋
Jason is currently scrutinizing the contents of your pantry, a box of macaroni and cheese in his hand. After seeing the scowl on his face, you’re not surprised when he starts to lecture you. “You eat this crap?”
You raise a brow because he’s one to judge. “I’ve seen you eat an entire party box of tacos.”
“I’m not you,” he fires back. His voice is still low, still calm, but you can sense an edge in his tone; this conversation is about a lot more than boxed macaroni and cheese.
In the beat of silence that follows, his heated gaze dulls to a smolder. “You don’t know how precious you are.”
You open your mouth to reply, but whatever retort you were going to argue back with is silenced when Jason’s big hands cup your face, tilting your head up so he can kiss your forehead. He lingers there, and you feel him tremble. His breath is ragged, rough—as if he’s afraid.
“I’m not you,” he repeats in a whisper. It’s like he’s talking to a child, like he knows you don’t know any better. Poor little you—you need him. “Just let me take care of you like always, okay? How about I sign you up for one of those meal prep kits? No more processed food; it’s not good for you.”
When he pulls you against his chest and strokes your hair, you feel yourself nod, unable to disagree. You know he’s right, after all; and isn’t it sweet that he treats you like a delicate angel even though he’s seen the worst of the world? That nothing without his stamp of approval is good enough for you?
TIM DRAKE 💋
“Oh, you’re all set,” your manicurist smiles at you as soon as you take out your wallet, nails freshly done. 
Caught off guard, all you can reply with is, “Huh?”
She just smiles a little brighter, and there’s a sparkle of something in her eyes. It looks a little wistful, but also a little vapid—is that jealousy? “Your boyfriend paid already,” she explains as her eyes not-so-subtly look around, trying to catch a glimpse of said boyfriend, but you’re just as surprised as she is.
“For the next year,” she adds in a dry tone. Slowly, you drop your wallet back into your purse. There’s only one man alive who could figure out where you get your nails done, what day and time you like your appointments, and call ahead to pay off your manicures for the next year without you ever finding out about it.
So when you get back to your car, you call him.
“Do anything fun today?” he asks over the phone, pretending to be way more innocent than he actually is.
“Tim—”
“Actually,” he cuts in, and you hear a bashful tremor in his voice. That tremor makes your stomach do flips, which beckons you to give in to whatever he wants. “I was just thinking about you. You’ve got the prettiest hands.”
“Tim—”
“Let’s go shopping later,” he rambles on, completely ignoring you. “I think you need some new jewelry. You’d like a new set of rings, wouldn’t you?”
Tumblr media
🔖: @mrs-kurooo; @lovely-loren05
7K notes · View notes
nezuscribe · 6 months
Text
𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞?
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader
part two of wanna be yours
summary: the aftermath of you and your husband's arranged marriage, but the better side of it. gojo satoru just loves you so much, that he's willing to bring down armies just for you
warnings: 18+ mdni, arranged marriage, very brief misunderstandings but they work it out, eating out (fem!reciving), fingering, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, he doesn’t pull out
word count: 6k
note: part two is finally done! and i think this is gonna be the last installment for this so don't ask for another part bc i will cry. as always, thank you to @jadeisthirsting for beta reading, she's the loml <3
jjk masterlist
Tumblr media
there were a few things that changed after your night with satoru. 
as he promised, he got a bigger bed for his room. he promptly ordered all your things to be moved in with his, and it didn’t take long for all your belongings to melt with his. it was different from what you were used to, but you welcomed those nights when you’d curl into his chest, tracing patterns on his bare skin as his fingers ran up and down your back as he listened to you speak. 
mornings you would find him littering kisses all over your naked body, or you’d find him in between your legs, waking you up in his own unique (much appreciated) way. satoru was insatiable and you couldn’t find a bone in your body to deny him.
he smiled more, his eyes bright as he woke up to your cheek smushed into his pecs on other mornings, not wanting to wake you up as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead and pulled you closer to his body. 
everybody around you two talked in hushed tones whenever you’d pass by, obvious confusion laced in their tones, but somewhat glad to see the tension between you and your husband had simmered down. 
“he seems happier,” suguru told you one day as you leaned over the balcony, watching satoru spar with one of his men, your arms crossed over the railing as you glanced over at the man. 
“really?” you felt a faint smile tug at your cheeks as you tried to contain yourself. 
he hummed, his back to the railing, his legs crossed. he was dressed in his clans’ colors, a black tunic embroidered with red stitching covering his chest. he had come around more often ever since the feast, and he seemed more open to talk to you. 
the winds were picking up, the seasons were changing. it had been weeks since your night with him, but it felt like a lifetime had passed since then. satoru spent less time training and fighting, making as much time for you as he possibly could. you had your chair moved so that you could sit next to him during dinners, and in his free time he’d take you around the land on your horse, his face relaxed and gleaming whenever you’d turn around to look at him.
“well,” he turned to look over his shoulder, looking down at satoru, his white hair turning into a blur as he rhythmically and methodically moved, evading the wooden swords’ jabs with the agility only a seasoned fighter could have, “not right now. i think he’s trying to show off.” you snorted, rolling at your eyes at his statement (which was most likely the truth) and continued to watch him spar. sometimes you forgot of satoru’s rank amongst the other men, and watching him in this sort of state reminded you just how much he must have picked up on those years spent apart. 
“i’m happy for you two,” he said after a beat of silence passed, offering you a genuine smile as he said it. he was usually more stoic than your husband, never giving too much information off from his face unless it was absolutely necessary, and catching him in these moments would always startle you. 
“thank you,” you murmured, heat blossoming across your cheeks and neck as you kept your stare focused on your husband, not wanting to come off as too giddy. truth be told, you’ve never felt happier. 
you couldn’t remember the last time you woke up with a smile and slept with one on your face. every day it seemed that satoru was trying to win your love in different ways. he was so different from what you had seen from him the last few months, but just like the old satoru you remembered. he was teasing, always finding ways to make you laugh. 
“he told you he was going to be gone for a bit, yeah?” suguru readjusted his hair, making it so that it didn’t keep flying into his face. you nodded, holding tightly onto your clothes in hopes of preserving more heat. 
“yes,” you blew some hot air into your hands as you rubbed them together, “he said you’d be going with him.” 
“he’ll be needing as much help as he can get where he’s going,” suguru murmured, but didn’t try to hide his words as he tapped his fingers on his wrist. 
“what does that mean?” you balanced your elbows on the stone railing beneath you, brows furrowed as he shrugged nonchalantly.  
“he didn’t tell you what it was for?” if satoru was one who wasn’t above gossip then suguru was one who stirred it up. 
“he said it was a meeting with one of the eastern clans,” you say, rubbing yourself. your nose was freezing. suguru nodded, which made you feel a little more at ease. 
“did he tell you why?” you shook your head, indifferent as you looked back at your husband. he was shaking hands with the poor kid who went against him, barely breaking a sweat as he threw his sword to the side, a wide smile on his face as he looked up at you. 
“business,” you murmur, not quite giving him your full attention anymore because satoru was walking near where you were standing, craning his neck to look up at you as he grinned. 
“is he bothering you?” he called out, his chest moving up and down with labored breaths. he tried to make it seem like sparring didn’t take anything out on him and you nodded, smiling back at him. 
“i’m about to throw him off!” you called down, leaning on the railing as you gripped it tightly to ensure your balance and satoru gleamed, suguru scoffing at the interaction. 
“did you see me fighting?” he asked, and you wanted to chuckle at his words, the hopeful smile on his face as he wiped at his nose, the cold getting to him as well. 
“you fought very valiantly!” and suguru thinks that without your words and your praise, satoru would be a mess, not able to function. he wasn’t sure how he did it months without it, because he doesn’t seem to live without it.
his cheeks flush a cute pink, and you want to bottle up the way his smile grows.
“you two make me sick.” he groaned, pushing himself off the railing as he made his way inside, throwing you a playful wink as he shut the doors. the sun was beginning to set and you could see the bits of night peaking through the sky. 
you watched as satoru disappeared through the stairs, likely coming up to see you and you drummed your fingers on your arm as thoughts traveled through your mind. 
despite his playful tone, suguru’s words left a bitter taste on your tongue. even as satoru found you, pulling you close to him as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips you couldn’t get it out of your mind. he led you back inside, talking nonstop about what his men needed to improve on, but your mind began going blank.
---
dinner that night was just as it always was, but you still couldn’t find it in yourself to push past what you’d been told earlier. 
“i’m thinking of having a winter feast during the solstice,” satoru said, drinking his wine as his fingers played with yours, running down the skin of your palm as he absentmindedly pressed his thumb to the back of your hand. 
“sounds good,” you said, not quite listening as you pushed some potatoes around your plate. you should have gotten past this awkwardness to talk to him about these things, but that must have just been wishful thinking. 
“this year seems to be colder than the last, so i’ll ask shoko to see if she can bring back some furs from her clan.” he continued, oblivious to your state of being. 
“okay,” you blankly said, giving him
a short glance only to see him in his own world, plotting. 
“i’ll have one of the southern tribes see if they can bring any pomegranates in, and…” he trailed off, noticing your stare boring into the table. his fingers squeezed yours, bringing your attention to him. 
“are you alright?” he asked, and you quickly nodded, plastering on a false smile as you picked up your spoon, wringing your hand out of his. 
“mhm!” you scooped some vegetables into your mouth, spending an excessive amount of time chewing as you felt his eyes bore into the side of your face. 
he didn’t seem convinced in the slightest, a brow raising at your strange behavior. if you were trying to be funny you had an odd way of showing it. 
“do you feel sick?” he moved closer, his hands finding your forehead, pressing against your cheeks as he felt for your temperature. 
you gently pushed his hand away, holding his wrist as your feet moved quickly in anxiousness. 
this should be easier than you made it out to be. 
he looked worried, finger itching to feel you again despite your silent pleas. it was second nature for him to care about you. if he didn’t spend half the time hopelessly in love with you, he spent the other half hoping that you were doing alright. he wanted only the best for you, and vehemently tried to make up for the months he didn’t do so. 
“no, i feel fine. but,” you sighed, rubbing at your eyes as he patiently waited for you to find your words. you knew he wouldn’t lie to you, he didn’t have the ability to, but the way suguru spoke to you made it seem like there was something he wasn’t telling you, “why are you leaving? i feel as though,” you swallowed thickly, “as though i don’t fully know why.”
satoru sat back in his chair, his eyes squinting as he looked at you. it’s not like he didn’t like being asked things, but normally you didn’t seem this apprehensive about talking to him. he welcomed your queries, answering them to the best of his abilities, but he couldn’t remember the last time you seemed this nervous to talk to him about something. 
and he knew that he should have told you this before you asked, but he put it off. his fingers ran through his hair as he breathed deeply through his hair. 
“it’s with one of the eastern clans,” he started, taking another sip of his wind as his hands found yours again, as if he couldn’t breathe without having you near in some way, “do you remember that girl, the one from the feast?” 
despite him not being very specific, there was only one memorable girl from that feast. the one that he disappeared with four half an hour before he came back. your jaw clenched, nodding stiffly as you moved in your seat. he noticed your shift in emotions, trying to hide his own as he continued.
“i told you what she had tried to do, hm?” satoru seemed a bit awkward in his wording, and if it were in any other case it probably would have made you laugh. but you can only nod again, his words nothing new. he had told you about it after he spent the night with you, answering your questions as to why he had left with her. 
you could barely remember her name, but you distinctly recalled what satoru had said about her. how she had tried to come onto him, how he had forced her off. you hadn’t seen her around since, but that didn’t mean that she hadn’t fully stopped making her way into your mind at random times during the day.
“ i had her clan cut off from trading with ours.”
if you were expecting any response it definitely wasn’t that. 
“…what?” you gave a startled laugh, blinking as you tried to make sense of what he had just said. 
he shrugged as if it didn’t mean much, as if that was the least that was expected of him. 
“that’s why our import of sweet potatoes and eggplants has been lower than usual. but it’s alright, i’ve already ordered for the seeds to be planted in our garden. her father is seething at the moment, it’s why i have to go see them.” he cut away at some meat, glancing at you as a smile was forcing its way onto his lips. he kept it down, watching for your reaction. 
you swallowed thickly, a feeling growing in your chest as you glanced up at him, only to find him staring back at you, a little smile on his face. 
“she had the nerve to ask to be a concubine. i’m only hoping that in this meeting we’re able to get some more of their silk imports in, it shouldn’t take too long.” 
you couldn’t find any words to respond with, but could feel a smile growing on your own face. you were the more compassionate one out of the two of you but hearing this felt like a whole different experience. 
“that’s,” you tried to hide your giddy feelings, “new.” 
satoru rolled his eyes, hooking his hands underneath your chair to pull you closer to him if it was even possible. 
“and well deserved,” he commented, kissing your cheeks as you laughed softly, his lips soft against your skin as they found their way into the places he knew you loved most. 
you tried to push him away, feeling embarrassed at the guards that stood by the door, knowing they were able to see all of this happen before them. 
“suguru was telling me about it,” you felt his hands shift, lifting you over the armrest, his strength godly as he shifted you to sit on his lap, “i just thought that something else had come up.”
gojo hummed against your skin, your dinner promptly forgotten behind you as his nose nudged at your jaw, “yeah, like what?” he enjoyed hearing your shuddering breaths, the way your fingers automatically went to tangle themselves in his soft hair. 
“i-i don’t know,” you felt weak from being breathless from so little, and we’re glad your back was to the men behind you, “but definitely not that.” 
“it was the least i could do,” he said, “i wanted her banished but my advisors warned against it. said it would cause too much chaos,” his eyes flicked to yours, inviting, challenging, “as if i wouldn’t go to war for you.” 
you felt the air in your lungs squeeze out, your hands gripping his shoulders, anything to bring you back to reality as his tongue poked at his cheek, debating some things in his head.
“out,” he spoke, loudly now so that the guards could hear, his voice commanding and starkly different from how he talked to you, “get out.” 
while he liked showing you off, but there were things only meant for his eyes and his ears.
you could hear them shuffling to leave, looking over your shoulder as you giggled at their hurried movements, the door shutting behind them as they left you and satoru alone in the dining hall. 
you turned back to him, his eyes twinkling in the faint candlelight, his hands running across your back, up and down your arms as you shifted across his lap, your clog rubbing on his hard-on as he sucked in a deep breath. 
 “you’d go to war for me?” you teased, your sweet breath fanning across his lips as his tongue poked out, his eyes glazing over as he scoffed at your ridiculous question. his hands settled on your waist, your skirts hitching upwards. 
“i’d do anything for you,” he whispered against your lips, hovering above them as his eyes held yours, “if you told me you wanted me to ransack that clan dry i’d do it.” though he was a joking sort of person, you knew his words were nothing but the truth. 
if you wanted, he’d burn down villages for you. he’d make sure that when the stories were written, your name came first. he wanted the masses to know that he was yours and that his every waking moment was spent in your presence. 
satoru was sure the stars were shifting to accommodate for the two of you, and that it would only take years before he’d look up to see you there with him, splattered across the night sky.
“as much as i’d like you to,” you kissed his neck, enjoying the way he writhed beneath you, knowing that only you had the luxury of seeing him like this, “i wouldn’t want any spillage of blood to be traced back to me. i’d like for you to come home alive.” it’s not as if you doubted his talents, nor his strength, you doubted others. 
“i’ll always find my way back to you,” he promised, tilting his head to catch your lips in a searing kiss. 
it was slow, as if he wanted to savor every moment with you. satoru was cheeky, smiling whenever he’d pull slightly away to hear your sweet whines. your fingers tugged at his hair, warning him to stop. 
his tongue pushed its way into your mouth, and it didn’t take long before the kisses turned sloppy, spit staining your chin as you slowly move your body up and down on his. 
“you drive me to shambles,” he said against your lips, a train of spit connecting the two of you together, and it was sinful the way he looked right now. lips rosy and plump, his hair messy and his smile cocky. 
“me?” you ask slyly, coyly moving up and down his dick, enjoying the way he sucked in a breath through his teeth, his fingers digging into your ass as you tilt your head to the side, “really?” 
his hands hiked up your skirt so that it bushed around your thighs, his fingers pressing against your heat as he felt the dampness seeping through your underwear, his own victorious grin plastered on his face. 
“really,” he confirmed, grabbing a hold of your wrist as he guided it to his bulge, watching your eyes gloss over, your pupils widening at the feeling of him, never really getting used to just how big satoru was. 
his finger hicked your underwear to the side, letting it sink into your warm walls, your eyes rolling back, your slick staining his skin as he brought it out, tapping your lips as he motioned for you to open your mouth. 
you did, watching as he pushed his finger in, his eyes darkening at the way you closed your lips around him, sucking him hard as you tasted yourself on him, your hips shifting to ease your aching clit. 
“taste yourself? see why i can’t get enough of you?” he prompts and you slowly nod, not breaking eye contact with him as he feels pride swell in his chest, as well as something else a little bit lower. 
“see how i can’t get enough of you?” you ask, motioning towards his hand, and he chuckles darkly, drawing his finger out as he presses a short kiss to your lips, taunting you.
“be patient,” he murmured, fully enthralled with the way your tongue moved around him, his dick straining against his pants, painful as it wanted to be let free. you could feel him twitch beneath you, growing harder, if it was even possible. 
he couldn’t even be patient himself.
“then hurry up,” you whisper, biting his ear as he groans, pushing all of the silverware and cups out from behind you, lifting you up by your thighs as he made room for you on the table, setting you down as he settled in between your legs. 
he pushed down on your chest and you followed his movements, laying down on the table, your chest heaving up and down, the feeling something you’ve never experienced before. sex with satoru was unlike anything human, and he always left you with a taste of wanting more. 
your top fell loosely against your shoulder, almost undone from all of his ministrations, and some of the wine from his cup had spilled, soaking your white fabric red. it was hard to come out of this dining hall without hiding what had happened inside. 
his hand fisted the top that covered your chest, yanking it off with a swift motion, tearing it off of you in a split second. you didn’t have time to scold him for ruining yet another one of your shirts, taking in the way his breath came out in little puffs at the sight of your naked breasts. 
“‘toru!” you yelled, swatting his hands away as you groaned, looking at what was now rags, not knowing how you were going to be able to leave this dining hall with your dignity intact. 
“what?” he looked as if he truly had no idea why you’d be mad, and then looked at the remains of your top, sheepishly scratching at his jaw as he leaned down to peck at the corner of your lips, and you begrudgingly let him. 
“‘m sorry,” he whispered against your lips, but he didn’t really sound like it, “i’ll cover you in my robes, yeah?” you rolled your eyes, flicking at his forehead. he whined, back caught your hand, kissing just above your wrist as he winked at you. you could never stay mad at him for too long because he knew just what to do to make you forget about it.
“you owe me a new one, alongside the four other ones you’ve ruined so far,” you say, eyeing it with a hefty sigh. satoru nodded insistently, his hands wandering down your torso as he got himself distracted. his hands were so large, and you would never get tired of the way he looked at you.
“how ‘bout i make it up to you, hm?” and you didn’t have any restraint in you as you nodded slowly, knowing that you were the only person who could make him like this, the only person who could have the gojo satoru in such a vulnerable and loving way.
he began bunching up your skirt once again, sinking down to his knees as your back arched off of the table, using your elbow to stabilize yourself as your head tilted backward at the feeling of his fingers pushing past your walls. 
your underwear was thrown to the side, disregarded as his tongue poked at your entrance, his thumb flicking over your sensitive nub, knowing just the way to make you go crazy. he slurped up all you had to offer, the sounds too much for you to handle, cheek heating up. 
he took his time, wanting to make you feel every pleasurable feeling known to man as he ate you out. you would never get tired of the way he could reach that spongy spot inside of you that your fingers never could. 
“you taste like so fucking sweet,” satoru’s eyes found yours, glinting as his nose nudged at your clit. it was too much, the way he ate you like he had never tasted anything better. he hadn’t and he was sure that sin was below you. 
his other hand found your tits, palming them, squeezing at the flesh as he rubbed at your nipples, hardening against him as you whined, fisting the tablecloth beneath you as you panted, it was just so hard to get used to this. 
“f-fuck, ‘toru, please…” you could barely muster up any words, his thumb swiping at your clit in a delicious way, his tongue prodding at your walls. 
“please what?” he teased, enjoying the way he could make you unravel, the way that nobody else could hear the way you’d sing just for him. 
“faster, mhh, shit!” you liked the way he obediently listened to you, his tongue and fingers moving per your request, and you felt your stomach clenching, your release threatening to come at any moment.
it was embarrassing just how fast he could bring you to this sort of state, but he reveled in it. he knew what you liked and disliked, how to tease you to make you cry even louder for him. he was a master in everything he did, and he wasn’t one to fail. 
“who does this to you?” he asked, knowing he was fucking you dumb even without his cock. 
“y-you, you ‘toru,” you couldn’t look at him, everything hot as sweat dotted at your forehead, “only you.” 
a cheshire grin found its way onto his face. 
“come on, know you can do it,” he pushed you further, his fingers joining his tongue, and it was just too much, prodding at the place that made you see stars. he looked just as wrecked as you, with your own essence smeared all over his chin, mixing with his spit, but he couldn’t have had it any other way. 
“‘m ‘gonna…fuck, ‘toru, i’m ‘gonna come…” you breathed out, and it didn’t take long till you did. 
the feeling was unlike any other, your walls clamping around him, your release gushing out, your stomach clenched, and your back arched, spasming around his fingers. he didn’t stop until he was sure you had ridden out your orgasm, watching the beautiful way your tits moved up and down with your every breath, the way the light bounced off your skin. you were a heavenly being and nothing you told him could convince him otherwise. 
he slowly stood up, his hands finding purchase on your hips as he gently pulled you closer to the edge of the table, giving you some time to come back down to earth as he slowly tapped his fingers on the expanse of your naked skin.
“you good?” you groaned, hitting his chest lightly as he chuckled, his eyes softening as he looked more at you. he was so sure that the love he held in his chest was going to seep out that it made him worried, knowing that others could love you the same way, selfishly wanting you just to himself.
“you’re so annoying,” you say, rubbing at your face, eyeing the bulge in his pants, feeling your mouth salivate at the sight. 
“you love it though,” and you couldn’t even argue because you did. you loved all the little things about him, the things he hid away from the public eye and saved just for you. it reminded you that he was yours and you were his and nothing was ever going to change it. 
“i put up with it,” you say, watching him pout, his white hair all messy and his cheeks rosy. 
“you’re so mean,” he whined, but only kissed the tip of your nose as he said it. his swift fingers made use of unbuttoning the buttons of his pants, hooking a finger around them as he tugged it down, his cock springing free as it hit his chest. 
he was long, curving to the right. his dick was pretty, just like the rest of him, and you would never get tired of seeing it flushed red, leaking pre as he shuddered against the cold, biting air. his mushroomed tip was aching to push past your walls, and you obliged him, slowly moving so that your hands found him. 
he sucked in a breath as your fingers wrapped around his length, expertly moving up and down in a teasing manner, your thumb swiping at his head as his pre stained your skin. his chest was moving in a crazed pattern, as if his lungs weren’t working properly, and he watched as your hands moved up and down, up and down. 
“s-stop, i don’t want to,” he scrambled before he embarrassed himself and finished from just your hands, tugging your fingers away from his aching cock as you looked up at him through your lashes, knowing just what made him go crazy for you. 
“hurry up ‘toru, i need you sooo bad,” you whined, your voice laced with something that made him lose all sense of control, and he quickly nodded, his hands gripping your thighs as he tugged you closer to himself. 
it would have been easier if he had you perched on the table with your back to him, but he couldn’t risk not being able to see your face, the way your mouth opened and your eyes squeezed shut, so he lined himself up with your entrance instead, knowing this was the only way he could fuck you. 
his dick prodded at your entrance, his bulbous head pushing past your walls that were still tight, squeezing him as he slowly inched your forehead, the two of you moaning in unison at the snug fit. 
“shit, you’re so tight, how,” his lip caught between his teeth, and his eyes flickered over to yours, “how are you so tight?” his grip on your hips was bruising, but you welcomed the marks, loving the fact that when you woke up the two of you would carry each other on your skin.
“stop talking ‘toru,” your hands hooked around his neck, tugging him in closer as your lips slotted against his, your teeth clashing as your pussy fluttered against him, your noses rubbing against each other, “fuck me…please.” 
and he did, pushing all of himself in, and your head tipped backward at the sting, gripping onto his arms as he let you adjust to his size, his cock twitching in your heat, and his jaw clenched, refraining himself from moving just yet. 
when you gave him the nod to move he slowly inched out, his dick shining in the light, before he slammed himself back in, your cries filling the vast space as he began to fuck you the way he wanted, his lips finding your neck as you thrust your hips against his. 
it was always delirious when the two of you fucked, your bodies meeting at one point that drove each of you to your own euphoria. satoru tried to be slow and gentle, but after a bit, he couldn’t anymore, picking up his pace as his head kept hitting your g spot. 
“love you s’much ‘toru,” your fingers curled in his hair, your other hand scratching lines down his back as the squelching sound resonated around you, “f-fuck-” he cut you off with a chaste kiss, dropping his head to your breasts as he sucked at them, positioning himself in and out of you with all his strength. 
“i know, i know sweetheart,” he murmured against your spit soaked skin, rubbing gently at the marks he left, “i’m yours, all for you,” he promised, his thumb finding your clit as he swiped at it, enjoying the way you mewled for him to go faster. 
your eyes fall all over his naked skin, at the way sweat dots on both of your bodies, and the way satoru can’t contain his moans and whines when he sinks in and out of you. the sounds he makes are for you only, and you want to damn anybody who longs to hear them too. 
“you feel s’good,” you kiss at his chest, his tunic slipping down him as the buttons and knots become undone, your fingers tugging them down so you could have more area to kiss and suckle at, “s’big ‘toru.” 
he loves how your voice gets breathy, the way you can’t keep your hands to yourself and can barely formulate a thought. he fucks you like he hates you, but that’s only because he doesn’t know how else to show you just how much you mean to him. 
“yeah? this dick makes you dumb?” you nod helplessly, feeling like you were going to go insane with the way his veins dragged alongside your walls, at the way your pussy was molding to the shape of him. 
“yes!” you cried out, nails digging into his skin, and he encouraged you to leave more lines, knowing that once he had to take off his shirt for training and the men around his eyes the scratches on his back they’d know who left them. 
“are you ‘gonna come? come with me, know you want to,” his hips are shuttering as if he can barely keep his release at bay, “know you can sweetheart,” and you whine even louder, his thumb relentlessly attacking your clit as your legs wrap tightly around him, keep him from straying too far away from your body. 
“mhh fuck, ‘toru m’gonna, fuck…!” you felt your release come before you could even stop yourself, spasming around his dick as you wailed, creaming around his dick as the tablecloth bunched beneath you, the wine spilling everywhere as your husband came just seconds after you. 
you felt his hot release in you, your walls hugging him in as your eyes rolled back, white dotting your vision as he pumped himself inside of you, keeping his dick in for a little while longer. your orgasm was so powerful that you wondered if you were going to be able to walk after this, feel yourself pulse around nothing as satoru slowly pulled himself out of you, his cum seeping out and sticking to your doughy thighs. 
it was a mess; wine and cum everywhere, but your laughter slowly filled the heated room, laughing at the entire prospect of this. 
“what?” he nudged at your jaw, kissing your cheekbones as he smiled at the sound, “was that not to your liking?” 
you snorted, shaking your head as your legs dropped from his waist, leaning back on your hands as you looked around, taking in the mess as you heaved out a sigh, knowing that there definitely wasn’t any way to hide what you had done now. especially since you were sure that anybody within a twenty-foot radius could have heard you as well. 
“it was fine,” you teased, watching him huff in annoyance because the two of you knew that it was far from fine. 
“just fine?” he asked, scooping a finger into your pussy, watching the way your head fell onto his shoulder, smearing his cum around just for extra measure, chuckling to himself when he felt you lightly bite his skin. 
“you’re painfully full of yourself,” you comment, your skirt falling back down as it hid your fluttering pussy, making it seem as if he hadn’t just fucked you dumb seconds ago, and satoru tugged you closer to his chest, his hands sprawling across the naked expanse of your back. 
“only because i love you so much,” and he wasn’t lying, but you knew that his cockiness stemmed from himself. 
the two of you smiled, your rings shining and you looked out the window to see the moon up, a chill running through the curtains, ruffling them as it hit your skin and you shuddered. 
as if he suddenly remembered your top was ruined, now resembling cleaning rags, he shrugged off the robe that was resting on the back of his chair as he settled it across your chest, buttoning up the buttons for you as you let him work. 
it had some of his military rankings on it, a deep blue that resembled the clan's colors, and you instantly felt warmer in the wool. 
“‘toru?” you twirled some of his baby hairs around your fingers, your voice hoarse but soft. 
he looked up, feeling awestruck by the way you looked right now. he loved the glow you radiated after a round of him pounding into you, the way your skin was shining and you had a content look on your face, resonating deep within him.
“hm?” his thumb ran across your face, tracing your features as he did every night, committing them to memory. 
“come home safe,” you whispered, lashes fluttering against your cheeks as you held his unoccupied hand in yours, your fingers cradling his larger ones, “don’t do anything stupid, please.” 
he went to make a joke but stopped himself when he saw your serious stare, his mouth opening and then shutting until he nodded, smiling carefully, holding heavy emotions as he gave you a smaller, more understanding nod.
“okay,” he murmured, but you shook your head, not satisfied with his answer. 
“promise me,” and he hated and loved the fact that he couldn’t deny you anything. 
“i promise,” he whispered against your lips, bringing you closer as his tongue swiped against yours, your lips swollen and plush, just the way he liked it. 
and he held true to his promise, returning only a week later with a promise of no sort of war between the eastern clan. but according to suguru, your husband had shed off his clothes when he had to fight one of their men, everybody around him, including the girl, had seen the scratches and bruises you had left for him, 
just as he intended.
Tumblr media
taglist: @chieeeeeee, @yxnjvnnie, @ladytamayolover, @iheartlinds
5K notes · View notes
yasu-1234 · 1 month
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
friends with benefits with gojo satoru.
pairing: gojo satoru x afab reader words: 5,100 contains: oral sex, squirting, pronebone, choking, and gojo being unserious. mood: playful, sexy, sincere. author’s note: thank you for the kind reaction to lazy sunday morning 🙇‍♀️
Tumblr media
You squint at him as you take in his request, wondering if he’s just messing with you as usual. You’re sitting next to him in your apartment unit; the balls of your feet digging on the edge of your couch as you slurp on a cup of boba tea.
“Dude. That’s not funny,” you manage to reply after a long, confused silence. “Like, I know it’s fun when we mess with each other but isn’t this a bit out of line?”
He scoffs dramatically. “I’m serious! Do I look like I’m joking?”
“Honestly? I can’t always tell,” you reply. “Kinda feels like everything is a joke to you sometimes.”
“Well, I’m not. I’m asking you nicely here. Do you wanna do it? With me?”
You open your mouth to respond, but then you realize you don't even know what to say.
Satoru scoots closer to you and leans forward, looking at you from above his sunglasses, his voice dropping into his teacher tone as he explains.
“Look, okay?” he starts. “We’ve been teasing and flirting with each other since the day we met. And I know it’s all jokes but still, there’s obviously some chemistry here. Not to mention that you're fucking hot. And I know you think that I’m hot too. Plus, all your Tinder matches are assholes. And I don’t even have the time to date or meet new people. So you and I are like, our most logical, convenient choice here.”
You huff and smile in disbelief. “Did you just assume that I think you’re hot? Someone’s a little cocky.”
“Come on. You have eyes. Get with the program.”
Your eyes cast a flickering gaze over his body, taking in the chiseled contours of his muscles underneath his– Oh. Ohhh. So that’s why he came wearing a compression shirt. And sweatpants. On a Friday evening. With your favorite cup of boba tea. He shoots you an impish grin as you shake your head at him and set his bribe down the coffee table.
“Fine,” you say. “I won’t deny that we’re kinda, sorta, maybe, compatible. But here’s the thing. I like our friendship the way it is. Why complicate it with some dumb, meaningless sex?”
“No, no, no. But it’s not gonna be dumb and meaningless,” he replies. “Cause it’s you.”
His words snare you speechless, your cheeks flushing red.
“Wait. Dude, what do you mean by that?” You stammer, laughing awkwardly.
“I’m saying I care about you and you mean something to me. If there’s anyone I’d wanna fuck on the regular, it’s you.”
“Satoru!” You lean away. “You really don’t have a filter do you?”
“I’m just being candid here! I trust you.”
He scoots even closer to you, holding you by the forearms. “And you trust me too, right? I promise I don’t wanna hurt you and I’m not playing tricks. I’m just asking.”
“And am I the first person you asked?”
“You’re the only person I’m gonna ask. If you say no, my dick is gonna concave. It’s over,” he replies.
You laugh at his words, and he laughs from the pleasure of making you laugh. Then his smile melts into an unwavering gaze, his eyes soft and sincere, pleading like a touch-starved cat.
“But seriously,” he continues, his fingertips graze your neck. “I meant what I said. You mean something to me. I don’t wanna hookup with some random stranger or a girlfriend who might break up with me. It has to be you, okay? I just know that whatever it is that we have it’s definitely gonna last. Whether it’s friendship or… something else. Something more. I don’t know.”
You can’t help but lean into his touch, “Your logic is so weird.”
“You’re weird.”
“No, you.”
You huff and smile. And then your gaze falls down to his lips. Soft, glossy, and inviting. The air is suddenly warm and still. And the silence between you grows heavy and pensive. With the shared understanding that you are sitting with him on the edge of a crumbling threshold. You look back into his eyes and notice that he’s looking at your lips too. His breathing becomes shallow and heavy with longing.
“What if we just kiss and see where it goes?” you ask.
He swallows hard, his lips parting, “Yeah…”
Satoru takes off his sunglasses and you lean towards each other. Slowly. Seeking reassurance, offering permission, with every inch of space you close between yourselves. At some point, his eyelids fall shut. His silver lashes flutter as he moves closer and closer. You can smell his sweet breath, feel the warmth radiating from his skin, and the firmness of his thumb against your cheek.
You close your eyes and press your lips against his, softly, then with a swift gradation of hunger as Satoru grabs the back of your neck, pulling you against him, deepening the kiss.
“Mmnh… ” You hear a soft hum of pleasure from deep in his chest.
His lips feel soft like rose petals, puckering and relaxing as he relishes the feeling of your lips against his. He’s kissing you. You’re kissing him back. And you start laughing against his lips as reality cuts through that fog. He pulls back, surprised by your reaction.
“What?” he asks, laughing now too. “Don’t tell me I suck.”
“No, no, you’re fine,” you reply. “It’s just—I can’t believe I’m kissing my friend. On the mouth.”
He smirks, “You wanna kiss something else?”
You smack his shoulder, blushing and laughing, “Shut up!”
“Hey, I was quiet,” he yells, gesturing to himself now. “You’re the one who started laughing!”
“Okay, fine! I’m sorry! I just couldn’t take it seriously.”
“We never really took anything seriously. That’s what makes it so fun,” He says, placing his hands on your waist. “I like that we can laugh about everything. Even things like this.”
You smile, “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”
You lean towards each other and kiss once again. This time, you part your lips, and his tongue swipes softly against yours, gentle yet demanding, coating your mouth with a sweet, buttery taste. His hands are warm as it rests on your collarbones. And you feel his fingers crawl upwards to the back of your neck, grabbing you by the scalp to hold your head still.
The rest of the world starts to sway and melt into open water. And you cling to him as if he’s the only thing keeping you afloat. You break the kiss to gasp for some air, hoping to feel solid ground again. While Satoru presses his forehead against yours. His eyes shut and his lips trembling, hoping you would let him taste you again.
“We’re gonna keep going aren’t we…” you whisper, breathlessly.
“Hell yeah,” he whispers back.
His hands slide under your thighs and he pulls you to his lap. You lean down to kiss him once again. Satoru moans and grabs your hips to press you down to his crotch, craving some pressure against his aching, hardening cock.
“I just… need your weight… right here…” he mutters in between kisses. His hips press upwards to meet you, and you gasp as you feel his thick girth squeeze and rub between your legs. Shuddering as you wonder how he’ll cram all that cock inside of you.
“You feel that? That’s your fault,” he hisses, sighing in relief.
“Aww, are you that pent up?” You tease as you start rocking across his length, following the slow rhythm of his hips.
“You know it… It’s been a while.”
A strangled sound leaves his throat and his head hangs back from the couch as you grind on him. His eyes shut and his lips parted in relief. He grabs you firmly by the backside, keeping you pressed against him.
A moment later, Satoru tilts his head back up to look at you with a hazy gaze and notices your stiff nipples underneath your oversized shirt. He leans forward and nips at one of your buds with his teeth.
You yelp at the sudden prick of pain, “What the fuck!”
You recoil and cover your chest with your hands.
“Hehe, I've always wanted to do that,” he says. He takes your wrists and pries them away from your chest, holding them tightly behind your back with a single, large fist. “You never wear a bra when I’m coming over. Did you think I wouldn’t notice? Or were you hoping that I would?”
“It’s my apartment. I would’ve worn a bra if I knew you were gawking,” you retort.
He leans to press his lips softly on your breast, soothing the sting in your nipple through the fabric of your shirt. You sigh and bite your lip.
“You’re not answering my question,” he says, looking at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “So maybe I’ll just think however I want. And I think you wanted me to see it.”
Satoru starts kissing the base of your neck as his hand disappears under your shirt; you shiver as you feel his long fingers draw a smooth trail up your spine that turns into a light scratch as his hand pivots across your rib and towards your chest. You feel his cock jump underneath his sweats the moment he feels your breast.
“Damn, you’re soft,” he sighs. He bunches the hem of your shirt and raises it up, exposing your breasts to him. “Here, hold this."
He stuffs your mouth with your shirt to hold it up.
Before you can protest, Satoru leans down to drag a soft tongue over your nipple. Then he opens his mouth to suckle as much of your breast as possible. You bite down on your shirt, holding a moan as he flicks you over and over with his tongue, and then finishing with smacking kisses before he moves his lips across your chest to tease the other. Your torso twists and recoils from the raw, yet delicate sensation. But he pulls on your wrists to keep your back arched in his direction. The ache and heat between your legs become more and more unbearable, so you continue rubbing your crotch against the iron-hard bulge in his lap. Giving yourself some much-needed relief.
“Mmmh, that’s right, keep grinding on me,” he murmurs. “Make that pussy feel good.”
You shoot him a repulsed look. Though you're unable to snark at him through the makeshift gag he shoved in your mouth. Satoru laughs anyway, knowing exactly what you’re thinking. You’re such a sleaze.
“Oh come on. I’m how you like me,” he teases. “And if you keep looking at me like that I might actually bust.”
You roll your eyes at him and smile. And that only made Satoru greedier for any and all reactions he can coax out of your body. He grins and sets you back down the couch. Then he kneels on the floor between your legs and drags your shorts and panties down to the floor. You spread your legs for him, almost involuntarily. And he bites his lip as you show him the tender, sopping mess between your legs. His hands on your thighs feel searing hot as he raises your limbs up the couch, planting your feet on the edge of your seat.
“Play with your clit,” he tells you. “Show me how you tease it.”
Surprisingly, you obey. Your hand starts drawing languid circles around and around your bud. He leans in closer to observe you. Noting the rhythm, the pressure, how tightly or how widely you stroke yourself. You realize that he’s teaching himself how to make you feel good. And that only made you rub faster and harder in blatant, bare-faced need.
“Yes, that’s right. Keep going,” he encourages you. “Now put a finger in. Fuck yourself a little.”
You slip your finger and start gliding in and out. He nods and hums in pleasure as he watches you with unabashed lust and fascination. Like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You milk and ride your delicate fingers, stoking and tending to your own pleasure like a flame.
“Okay stop,” he says. He pulls your hands away. “I got the gist of it.”
“The gist, huh?” You taunt. “You think that’s enough?”
“You tell me.”
He parts your lips with his thumbs and glides a wide tongue along your slit. Your back bows and a moan escapes you as he licks you just like that.
Satoru doesn’t even take the time to gloat. His lips and tongue start to slurp and smack relentlessly. Making your toes curl and your stomach writhe. Grabbing a handful of his hair and nearly ripping it off his scalp as he somehow licks faster and sucks harder. With the rhythm and the consistency of a goddamn machine. You bite hard on the fleshy base of your thumb as he pleasures your pussy raw. Focusing your eyes on whatever random object you find in your living room to make yourself last longer. Cause you know you’ll never hear the end of it if you come all over his mouth within the first two minutes.
But then he slides in his fingers. Those fucking fingers. Smooth and long and dexterous as it moves in and out, over and over, curling to press that intense spot just underneath your bladder. You start to feel a deep sense of pressure, an urgency, somewhere inside your walls. That builds and rumbles and sears… and then explodes.
You grunt and arch as you feel a sudden release, something more than a climax. Your body grows taut and snared by euphoria, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your hearing muffled as your ears start to ring. But Satoru’s voice cuts through the haze.
“Whoa there! I didn’t know I was in the splash zone!”
You snap your head back down and your jaw drops at the sight of him.
“Holy shit. Did I just– Oh my god. Oh my god, I'm so sorry,” you stammer, mortified. You grab your shirt to try to wipe him.
“Haha, hey. Relax. You didn’t actually hit me,” he says with a soft, reassuring laugh. He turns his body to an angle to show your watery spent hovering centimeters before his face. “See? All safe and dry. Unlike you.”
“Oh, shut it,” you sigh, panting heavily. “That… seriously never happened before.”
“Really? Never?” he asks with a smug grin, he starts wiping himself with your shirt before tossing it down the wooden floor. "Wow… I'm flattered."
Satoru kisses your thighs and leans down between your legs once again. You jolt and push his head away.
“Wait, I don’t think I-“
“Just a few kisses,” he says in a soft voice. “Just lemme get a few more kisses in there, yeah? I’ll be gentle with it.”
You sigh and slowly let go of his head. Satoru leans in to plant a few soft kisses on your outer lips, on your folds, your entrance–your entire body twitching with every touch of his lips. Then he presses his lips tenderly on your clit. And you feel it pulse and throb as his lips linger and your legs begin to tremble. He finally pulls away, wiping his mouth on your inner thigh.
“If that wasn't one of the biggest ego boosts of my life,” he says fondly.
“Yeah, cause the one thing you need the most is another ego boost,” you retort as you wait for your bones and muscles to feel solid again. “I’ll get you for this.”
He grins, “That a promise or a threat?”
“Maybe both.”
“Alright, bet.”
Satoru stands to push his sweatpants down his thighs. Then he reaches inside his boxer-briefs to draw out…
the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen in your life.
“What the fuck,” you whisper to yourself as you watch Satoru shrug off his bottoms and straddle you. Instinctively, you wrap your hand around his cock and start stroking.
He looks at you with a smirk, “Gorgeous, right?”
His cock is long and proportionally thick from crown to root, shaped with a graceful upwards curve. His skin is glossy and flushed pink—wrapped tightly and smoothly around his organ without an inch of loose flesh. It’s almost uncanny how sculpted and elegant it looks. And the idea of his cock sinking past your throat makes your mouth water and your pussy pound.
“Go on, taste it,” he coaxes you. He doesn’t need to tell you twice.
You lean in and wrap your lips around his pretty, pink head—your tongue swirling and catching each leak of precum that drops onto your taste buds. Satoru moans and the neediness in his voice emboldens you to take more and more of him. You start swaying your head in deeper and deeper strokes; relishing the smooth underside of his cock. The thick scent of lavender on his skin and hair. The sweet and acidic taste of his precum. Satoru tries to breathe in deeply, only for his breath to shudder each time you sink your head.
“You’re pretty eager,” he teases, breathlessly. He runs his fingers through your scalp to hold your hair back, wanting to see more of your face as you work on him. “Do you want me to cum that badly? You want me to shoot my little babies down that throat?”
He yelps when you slap his inner thigh, your brow furrowed as you look at him with a flustered and reprimanding gaze. Though Satoru finds it pretty hard to take you seriously with his dick in your mouth. So he chuckles fondly instead.
“Or you can do that. I like it when you try to hurt me too,” he says.
You grab him by the back of his thighs, nails digging into his flesh, and you sink him deeper into your mouth. Satoru hisses and starts moving his hips, meeting your head downstroke. His cock starts to edge towards the back of your tongue, testing your gag reflex with every thrust. But you relax your throat and match your breathing with the swing of his hips, and soon you manage to bury him down your throat to the root. Your nose pressed firmly against the fluffy, white hairs of his crotch. Screw it. You let him hit the back of your throat over and over and over.
"Fuck," he moans. "At least try to make me last."
His hips pick up the pace. And you feel his muscles contract as his cock pushes towards release. You moan and pleasure him with the vibrations in your throat, wanting desperately to fill your taste buds with his cum.
But then he stops moving. His hands holding you stock-still against his crotch. You feel his cock twitch and throb in your throat, threatening to burst. And you can hear the strangled noises and whimpers coming from Satoru’s lips. You look up to him and see the look on his face; his brow is upturned, his eyes closed, and his jaw tight as he bites his lower lip. Looking like an angel in ecstasy. His eyes flutter open to peer down on you.
“Just a little more. Bear with me here,” he sighs. Then the twitching stops and he pulls his cock out. You gasp, forgetting you were holding your breath.
You shoot him an accusatory look.
“Did you just edge yourself?” You ask.
“What if I did?” He asks back.
“That’s not fair! I was winning!”
You lean forward towards his crotch but he holds you by the shoulders, laughing.
“It’s not a competition! I didn’t come all this way just to cum in your hand. Or your mouth,” he says with a smile. He reaches behind him to slide two fingers between your slit, gently caressing your inner lips. “I wanna cum here."
He starts gliding those long delicate fingers, up and down. Parting as he stretches you open. Your eyes glaze over as you feel that familiar heat building between your legs. Perhaps he’s right. Perhaps you would rather feel him burst inside you instead. You start moving your hips to rut against his fingers, your hands rolling your breasts as you gaze at him with cock-starved eyes. Satoru twitches as he relishes that look in your face. Wanting nothing else but to thrust and wring that neediness away.
“Bed?” He asks you.
“Bed,” you answer.
You yelp and giggle as he hoists you up and jogs to your bedroom. He doesn’t want to waste a single second. He flops you down on top of your sheets and takes his shirt off. His naked torso tightens as he notices you admiring his body. Taking in his broad shoulders, his square chest, his tiny waist and those grid-like abs. Eight packs… How many abs does a person need?
Satoru aligns his groin between your legs and lays his cock across your stomach like a ruler; measuring how deep he's about to go inside your body. You shiver as his tip caresses your belly button. Your pussy throbbing in equal parts fear and delight.
"You think you can take all this?" He asks you with a devious look in his eyes, with his lips curled into a smirk.
You bite your lips and mirror his gaze, almost provoking him to try and split you apart.
"Come and find out."
He rubs the tip of his cock against your clit and pushes it inside you. You moan as his thick head stretches you with just enough hint of pain to compliment the pleasure. He leans down and sticks his tongue out, prompting you to suck it and caress it with your own. The sensation of your soft tongues circling each other sends you into a fucking frenzy. You feel your inner walls contract and his groan spills straight into your mouth.
“Shit, you’re actually sucking me in,” he pants. He grabs you by the hair to tilt your head down, making you watch the way his cock sink between your legs—one girthy inch after the other. “Look at it go. Watch how well you're taking me right now.”
You both groan in relief as his cock disappears inside your soft cunt, his tip pressed flush against your cervix. You both take a moment to stare at your interlocked groins in fascination.
And then he looks at you to flash a nasty grin.
“Hey bestie…” Satoru purrs, his voice dripping with mischief and lust. “Guess who’s inside you?”
“Oh, come on!” you groan, smiling deliriously as you turn your head away from him. You try to cover your face, but he pins your wrists to the bed.
“No, say it. Who’s inside you? Who’s fucking you right now?” He insists, giggling. He tilts his body to face you again, preventing you from escaping his gaze. He withdraws his hips and drives his cock upwards with a rough thrust, knocking you backwards. You tilt your head back with a moan as he hits you in the womb.
“Say it,” he urges.
“Who else am I supposed to say? Jesus?” you reply, laughing as he does. “You are. You're inside me. Happy?"
“What am I doing?” He asks again. He starts rolling his hips, fucking you slowly. His crotch rubs against your clit in languid strokes.
“You’re fucking me,” you gasp. Your breath catches as you turn dizzy and nearly cross-eyed from ecstasy.
“That's right,” he replies, now caressing your face. “I got you, okay? I’m gonna make you feel so good.”
“You better,” you reply, wrapping your arms around him.
Satoru withdraws and flips you to lie flat on your stomach. Your legs pressed closely together as he parts your cheeks and aims his cock towards your entrance.
"Try not to gush all over your sheets, okay?" He teases. Then he nibbles your ear and plants kisses on your shoulders.
You sigh, “I just knew you were gonna bring that up.”
Satoru slides inside of you and you squirm and groan against the pillow instantaneously. The friction between your legs feels heightened as your muscles squeeze around him. He starts gyrating his hips, the tip of his cock hitting all the right spots with each downstroke. You grab the sheets and groan as you start kicking your feet from the raw, unadulterated pleasure.
He braces his hands on the small of your back. Then his hips move faster. Harder. Deeper. The slap of his skin nearly echoes inside your bedroom as he fucks the sanity out of your brain with each thrust. Your senses are overwhelmed by all things Satoru–the powdery scent of his skin, his pretty little moans in your ear, his smooth skin against your back, his comforting weight, and his thick cock pumping inside of you. With an angle so perfect and a rhythm so right that you wonder if his body was made for you. You squirm and writhe underneath him as the pleasure engulfs you like a flame. That he stokes and tends until it’s wild and uncontrollable.
You know it’s just sex. You know you’re just friends. You both just wanted to try something fun. Let off some steam. And yet you never felt used for a single moment. And despite all his teasing and provocations you’ve never felt insulted or uncomfortable. Satoru makes you laugh. He also makes you moan. And if he keeps fucking you like this he might actually make you cry.
Satoru collapses on top of you and starts groaning and whimpering against your neck, his abs flexing into stone as he stokes an impending climax.
"Fuck, fuck, I'm so close. Take me there, baby, take me all the way there, please," he rambles. “I want it, I want it, I want it. God, I wanna cum so bad."
He grabs you by the neck to tilt your head up and shoves his soft, sweet tongue inside your mouth. Kissing you with open lips. Saliva dripping down your chin. Then his hand starts to squeeze you, choking you gently and tenderly, and your body dissolves into a pleasurable haze. Your inner walls clench and your stomach tightens. You know you're getting close, too.
"Yes. That’s right. Good girl," he whispers into your lips. "Stay with me, baby. Stay close to me, I can't do this without you."
The pleasure builds, and builds, and builds, and then it shatters you. You start thrashing under his body as your climax rips through and seizes you. White light dances before your eyes and your hearing weakens from the strength of your pulse. Your pussy clenching so hard around his cock that he explodes inside you as well—his cum hot and searing like ignited oil. Satoru’s hips begin to stutter, helpless against the strength of his own spent as it shoots out and fills you straight to the womb until it leaks past your plugged entrance. He cums inside you in choking whimpers and grunts… that fade into a long, satisfied sigh.
“Hah… fuck… holy shit,” he pants. “What was that?”
“I never came so hard in my life,” you whisper, mindlessly.
“Me too… I thought I was gonna shoot my balls out.”
Satoru remains flat on your back, kissing and nibbling your nape as you unwind from the strength of your orgasms. Your bodies stay suctioned together, as still as the air that surrounds you. You seek comfort and grounding from his crushing weight and the heady sweetness of his scent as your mind slips into that blissful, post-orgasmic headspace. He tugs at his dick to pull out, but you’re still clamped and wound up tightly. That’s fine. He didn’t want this to end either. Your walls are just too soft, too warm, and too plush for him to just leave. He smiles and rolls your bodies to the side to spoon you; his arms wrapped around you like a blanket.
Satoru starts rubbing his face against your neck like a sweet, satisfied cat.
“So what do you think? You wanna do this again sometime?” He asks.
You could only hum in approval, your mind and your body feeling weightless and malleable.
“How long have you been meaning to sleep with me?” You ask. “Just curious.”
“… A while,” he answers after a pensive silence. “Does that bother you?”
"I guess not… But we’re still friends, right?” You ask. Wondering if you should even bring this up while he’s tucked inside you to the hilt.
"Friends with benefits, I guess," he shrugs. "But really, we can be anything you want. You already know how I feel so… ball's on your court."
He raises his head to look at you. "Why? You wanna get married?"
You laugh, "Maybe not that!"
“Why not? Lots of people marry their best friends.”
You turn your head and smirk at him, “I let you hit once and now you’re thinking about marriage. I must’ve been such a good lay.”
He smiles fondly and nuzzles your cheek, “You are, though. Seriously, who else can bring me to my knees like that? You’re the best I ever had.”
You roll your eyes and smile, “Now you’re just glazing.”
“It’s true,” He leans back down to kiss a trail from your ear to your shoulder. “I don’t care how you take me as long as we’re together. I like being with you. And now I know I like fucking you too. You’re not getting rid of me now. And like I said before. Whatever it is that we have, it'll definitely last.”
You stay silent, wondering where this all leads. Will the friendship really last? Will it fizzle out? Would you prefer that over a certain, bitter end? Is your friendship now contingent on sex? Will he be worth the heartache if you ever get attached?
Satoru laughs softly at your brooding.
“You don’t have to decide right now, you know?” He says. “Let’s just feel this moment together. Just feel me here with you. We don’t have to worry about anything else.”
He starts rocking his hips gently again, thrusting inside you with a pace so relaxing that you feel your consciousness sinking. He whispers softly against your ear; telling you secrets and sweet reassurances. Promises and high praises.
Satoru has leapt from that crumbling threshold. That boundary. That made you seek forgiveness whenever your fingers touched his hand. Or worry if you’ve taken your jokes too far. And he has opened his arms to you, beckoning you to take that leap and sink into that limbo between friendship and beyond. Promising you that he will catch you when you fall.
Tumblr media
i wanted to capture that 'you cryin'?' energy of his and stretch it to a whole fanfic. though i hope it wasnt too much of a tone whiplash (•᷄- •᷅ ;) i just think annoying people is his love language. and he probs gets a kick from your reactions. pls let me know what you think! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و
and thank you for giving this fanfic a chance!
originally posted on ao3 title is based on blurred lines by lauren layne. art by blooneey on pixiv
2K notes · View notes
buckyalpine · 7 months
Text
18+
Mob Bucky x virgin reader 
If you’re wondering how bad my procrastination is, I started this in November. Anyway, I forgot to add some lines from a different fic here. There’s no plot here, literally just a scene I imagined. Please read the warnings. 
Warnings: dub con, degrading, virginity taking, innocence kink, mentions of blood, horny, feral Bucky is a warning, porn and little plot. Honestly, no plot. 
-
He knew he wanted you from the moment he saw you. Cute little sun dresses, beautiful eyes, your perfect lips, every single one of your delicate features making him crave to have you. He didn’t know what to do with himself the day he found out you were a virgin; you said it so quietly he would have missed it if you weren’t curled up on his lap. 
“My sweet innocent baby” He cooed, trying his best to contain his erection, desperate to fill you. “No ones ever touched you?” 
N-no” You shook your head keeping it buried against his neck while your cheeks burned with embarrassment. You were told to wait until marriage to do anything so you did exactly as you were told. It hadn't been a problem up until now, your heart rate beating faster, squeezing your thighs together to make that feeling go away. He was intoxicating; rough fingers tracing over your smooth skin, skimming up to the hem of your dress.
“I-I can’t” You shook your head when he nearly reached your panties, his hand coming to tilt your face up to meet his eyes. 
“Why not, darling”
“We’re-um-” You fumbled with your fingers, choking on your words "We’re not married” 
“Is that all baby?” Bucky chuckled, kissing your cheek, “You know it doesn’t count if I just touch you sweets, would that be okay?” 
You swallowed thickly, knowing it was a bad idea to give into his temptations, the words of your mother and father screaming at you to behave yourself, that were omitting a grave sin, giving into lust-
“O-okay” 
-
“It’ll be more comfortable this way, darling” He reassured you as he spread you out on his large bed, all your clothes torn off while he stripped the last of his boxers before crawling beside you. Your eyes flicked down to his thick length, your stomach clenching as it bobbed between his legs while he settled himself. 
“You can look baby, you don’t have to touch if you don’t want to” His husky voice sent shivers down your spine when he caught you struggling to look away, your eyes now fully trained on the way a stick liquid was beading from the tip of his cock. He gently parted your thighs, moving to kneel in between them, the pads of his fingers brushing over your clit making you squeak in surprise at the feeling. 
“Just your fingers?” You looked at him nervously with doe eyes as he gave you a wolfish grin. 
“Just my fingers love, you’re not doing anything wrong” He rubbed the side of your thigh comfortingly while he coated his fingers in your slick, pressing the middle one into your entrance. “Still such a good girl” 
You gasped at the gentle stretch, gripping onto the sheets when he slowly added another, pumping in and out of your pussy, groaning at the way your thighs parted further to give him better access. 
“Look at this little button” Bucky whispered, rubbing deliberate circles around your clit, watching the way you started to fall apart when he crooked his fingers, fingering you faster. Your moans were music to his ears, his other hand pulling your lip away from your teeth to keep you from silencing yourself. “C’mon, I know you feel it princess, you can cum pretty girl” 
“I-I’m gonna-Bucky-Please!-” The squelching sounds of your sopping cunt got louder as you came closer and closer to the edge, blinding pleasure finally pushing you off as you convulsed around his fingers. “Oh God!” 
“That’s it baby” Bucky slowed down, gently pulling his fingers out and licking them clean, smirking when you cracked your eyes open again, sweat making your skin glisten. He was still kneeling in front of you, precum dribbling down his shaft, his balls achingly full while you shyly peered up at him through your lashes.
He was gorgeous. 
Gorgeous enough you’d want to-
No. 
As if he could read your mind. Bucky took your hand in his, placing your palm on his cock, nearly growling at how soft you felt compared to his rough hand wen he touched himself. 
“You can touch baby, you’re still my good girl” Bucky’s voice was breathless as you hesitantly wrapped your hand around his velvety shaft, stroking his heavy cock. He kept his hand over yours, jerking himself into your fist while his eyes raked up and down your body. 
“Let me touch you darling” He nearly fell forward when your thumb swiped over his slit, “Just let me rub it on you baby, it doesn’t count sweets, you don’t have to worry” 
“Are-are you sure?”
“Of course baby” 
He promised again while you bit your li hesitation before giving him a shaky nod. Bucky groaned, slotting himself between you legs, pumping his cock before rubbing it between you folds, his swollen tip leaking all over your already soaked pussy. 
“So soft bunny” He growled, throbbing when his tip caught against your entrance before rubbing against your clit again, “Feels s’good” 
“Bucky” You moaned in his ear as he started to hump against your pussy, slotting his cock snugly between your folds, his cockhead bumping against your clit with each thrust. “Bucky please” 
You weren’t sure what you were begging for, the feeling of him slipping up and down against you between the grunts and groans he made each time made your belly clench, your eyes growing wide when he was pressed against your entrance again, 
“Bucky-Bucky we can’t-” You looked at him with frantic eyes, his heavy body now fully resting on top of you while he continued to tease his cock, softly pressing against you.  
“That’s not what you call me love, you know better” Bucky had tested the waters earlier, loving how flustered and shy you got when he insisted you call him by something else, making you even more needy for him. 
 “But-were not married daddy” You whimpered, feeling the blunt tip of his cock starting to press against your entrance while he hummed with approval. 
“I won’t move love, just-just let me put the tip in, alright? Just the tip darling” He barely waited for your permission, breaching your hole as soon as you nodded, the sharp sting making you cry out in pain. 
“DADDY!, DADDY s’too much!” You shook your head as he kept pushing in more, stretching as if he were trying to split you in half. 
“I won’t fuck you, just wanna feel it” He gasped as soon as he was fully sheathed in you, your tight walls choking his cock. “Oh fuck angel, you’re so tight, make room for my cock baby, c’mon, let daddy fuck you baby” 
“It’s too big, it hurts” You cried out, squirming and withering on the bed, your legs squeezing and tensing around him while he brought his hand to wipe your tears, pushing away the strange of hair that clung to your forehead. 
“But you feel so good love, you gonna let daddy take your virginity baby?” 
“I-but-we-”
Bucky cooed at your stammering while staying fully buried in your cunt, precum already leaking. He pulled his hips back before thrusting forward making you squeal, his eyes locked with your as he started to fuck you. 
“Stop daddy!” Your nails clawed at his back pleasure, pain, shame, guilt, lust, one too many emotions flowing through you as he moved faster, his muscles tensing, rippling down his body. “Slow down, please!” 
“But you’re making daddy feel so good baby” Bucky groaned, lost in his own world, feral over how tight you were, how you pleaded for him to slow down, his cock was too much for your tiny pussy to take. He loved the way you hiccupped and choked sobs, your greedy virgin cunt sucking him right back in each time he pulled out.  
He was sure he could smell the light scent of iron in the air, looking down at where the both of you were connected, his shaft covered in your creamy slick. Spots of red stained his white sheets, but that only seemed to spur him on more, growling and pounding you harder. 
“Oh sweet girl, did I stretch you too much?” 
“It-hurts” You whimpered, clinging onto him, biting down on his shoulder to keep from crying, you wanted to be so good for him but you could feel the pain radiating through your body, shame melting into pleasure as he drove his cock in deeper. He could feel his length swell, his balls starting to pull tight against his body when you bit down harder, the pain making him throb. 
“Gonna let daddy put his seed in you princess? Hmm? We’re not even married darling, are you gonna let my cock bust in you?” It was so wrong, all of it was so wrong but you were too far gone, too deep, your foggy brain caving, giving into everything you’d always wanted. 
“Yes daddy yes!” Your thighs trembled, squeezing tightly around his waist as the wiry hair at the base of his cock rubbed against your clit. Spots clouded around your vision as you clenched around his cock making it hard for him to move, your second orgasm ready to wash over you. 
“That’s a good slut, taking all of her daddy’s dick and letting him making a mess in her” He let out a dark chuckle as his hand came up to wrap around your throat, softly squeezing the sides. 
“M’m-not a slut” Your whimper turned into a guttural moan as he pounded you with everything he had, the bed shaking, his balls slapping your ass. “Ah-AHh fuck!!” 
“Oh but you are baby, all naked and spread out on my bed, fuck princess, m’gonna give it to you so hard, m’gonna cum so fucking hard, shit-FUCCKK” Bucky roared, as bursts of cum streamed out of his cock, the feeling of his seed making you feel warm inside. “You’re milking my cock you slut, gonna milk my fuckin’ dry the way you’re choking me, go on and milk me sweets, take it all” 
You cried out as you came around his cock, emptying him for all he was worth. He wrapped his arms around you, keeping himself warm while you nearly passed out from pleasure, shuddering in his hold. He smirked at your fucked out state, pushing his hips up making you whimper, cuddling into his chest. 
“Rest darling, daddy isn’t finish yet”  
4K notes · View notes
baeshijima · 7 months
Text
— “hands off! i’m taken!”
Tumblr media Tumblr media
for the first time in your drunken daze, you don't recognise your own husband.
CONTAINS : gn!reader, 983 wc, fluff, (attempts at) humour, mentions/reference of alcohol consumption
A/N : neuvillette is in pain (emotional) while you are in pain the morning after (literal).
Tumblr media
it’s not often neuvillette finds free time amongst the seemingly endless piles of papers on his desk. when he does get some free-time, he always makes sure to treat you out to the places you most recently show interest in. however, these evenings out more often than not result in you having one too many drinks. (“it’s a rare evening date!” you would tut, waving a finger at him while your free hand holds the wine glass.)
he worries for you and your health after all, and he most definitely doesn't want you to experience these so-called "hangovers" you bemoan about as he coddles you through it all the mornings after.
and so what better way to help prevent such a tragedy than by putting a stop to it prematurely?
“hands off! i’m taken!”
…or so he thought.
regardless, that doesn’t change the fact neuvillette now stands in the middle of one of the (now quite humid) private rooms in the upper floor of hotel debord, clutching his stinging hand close to his chest while staring at your huffing form in a mixture of hurt and shock. he blinks once, twice, thrice as he slowly begins to process your words — or, lack of.
“pardon?”
“i said,” you stress, narrowing your gaze at him as you begin to sit up, “hands off! i’ll have you know i’m happily married to the loveliest, most beautifulest man in teyvat and i don’t need some… some meddlesome old creep trying to get in between that.”
were this quite literally any other day besides one you were drunk on, neuvillette would be jumping for joy over the moon (metaphorical… probably) and documenting this moment in his diary he keeps safe and secured in a locked drawer under his desk, positively cooing and sighing in pure adoration at your adorable self.
(he also doesn’t have the heart to tell you beautifulest isn’t exactly a real word, but he’s flattered all the same. and it makes you that much more adorable in his eyes.)
alas, this isn’t any other day. no, instead it is a day which marks his drunk spouse being unable to identify their own husband, and your intoxicated words render him silent. 
now, don’t get him wrong, he’s glad you are, for a lack of better words, raring to defend your marital status and honour when intoxicated. however…
‘meddlesome old creep’? is that how he appears? he thought he looked quite dashing this evening, what with the way you sang his praises after he got himself dressed and questioned if you were actually married to one another.
then again, he supposes it’s still accurate to say you’re still questioning whether or not he is your husband. just not in the joking manner you initially did.
seeing how you’ve begun to grow a little restless with his prolonged silence, neuvillette awkwardly clears his throat and begins in what he hopes is a tone which masks the minor betrayal your words caused. “i’m glad you feel that way about our marriage, mon cœur, but—”
“stop!” neuvillette’s mouth instantly ceases movement. “how… how dare you, a stranger, call me that! just who… who do you think you are? my husband?”
“actually, i am.”
you blink at him. “you’re what?”
“i am your husband. neuvillette.” in all honesty, he doesn’t know why he’s nervous. perhaps it’s your scrutinising gaze causing him to sweat, taking him back to the first days when he could finally put a name to the emotions you brought out from within him — ones which have never weakened, but only seem to grow stronger as the days pass by. his hands clam up, and he’s glad you can’t see him wiping his palms against the fabric of his clothes from where you sit. even when you’re drunk, you tend to remember the most random moments. more often than not, they end up being in some relation to him.
(neuvillette laments the times where you only remembered his brief loss of composure.)
after a few more agonising seconds of staring, you speak up once more. “you’re lying.”
there are many things neuvillette wishes to say in response — such as showing your wedding rings, pulling out the small polaroid of you both nestled within his inner coat pocket, recalling the first day you met, the first day you talked, the first “thank you” you ever said to him, the first—
quickly, he snaps himself out of this spiral. just in the nick of time too, for you open your mouth to say something else. “my neuvillette is cute and lovely and pretty and everything a person could only dream to have.”
is he not cute right now? is he not lovely and pretty right now? is he not everything a person could only dream to have right now? what makes the him through your drunken lens so different to the him in your memories?
against his better judgement, he decides to ask the big question.
“then… may i ask what i am?”
“a liar.” and, as if to rub salt in the wound, you add, “i don’t like liars.”
neuvillette feels as though he could cry.
(when you awoke to a pounding headache the next morning, the last thing you expected was your husband brooding on the edge of the bed, his back facing you as he mumbled something along the lines of, “i would lie for you… not to you…” though it was a little hard to tell amidst the incessant pitter-patter of rain against the window.
despite racking your brain in an effort to figure out what caused him to be in such a state in the first place, the only things you remembered from last night were him wiping his hands on his clothes, as well as him looking as though someone slapped him across the face.
yeah. perhaps it is best you don’t tell him that.)
Tumblr media
mon cœur = my heart, which can be read as my sweetheart/other half/life, etc.
if you enjoyed this, then reblogs with/or comments are greatly appreciated !! <33
genshin taglist : @tiredsleep​ @hannas16​ @volexis​ @ladycoleigh​ @sea-of-dandelions @fandangotales​ @absolutely-rational​ @lilikags @arkhammaid @irethepotato​ @usertsubaki @1117sblog @yanderealm @aimixx​ @myaaki​ @daphluc​ @nachotrash​ @devilishduckling​ @obsidiannero​ @hadesaedes @duhsies @garlicforthewin​ @sassyglassesbunny @uchihaeirin​ @leena-shii​ @sammybeefangirls​ @falling0ut @angelkazusstuff​ @fr0-gy @veiias @lifiore​ @smokipoki @midnight-summer-rain @fanglefangirl @dinaaaaee ​​​​@lupicalbestwolf @nelain @fudogh
(bolded urls means u couldn’t be tagged, so try checking ur settings/if u typed the url correctly !!)
(if u would like to join my genshin taglist, then pls fill out this form !!)
4K notes · View notes
itostea · 2 months
Text
my first & last love (gojo x reader)
Tumblr media Tumblr media
satoru realizes he's in love with you after you suggest he set you up with suguru
tags: fem! reader, Gojo praises you like A LOT! slight miscommunications, childhood friends to lovers, reader gets drunk & satoru helps, he's a lovesick idiot & dramatic, both yours & his pov, gojo’s implied to be taller than reader, slightly suggestive bc it’s gojo, slight angst
word count: 11k
Tumblr media
The first time Gojo Satoru learned true, unadulterated jealousy was on a Friday night out in his sports car–the crickets chirping to the melody of a random song. 
It was real jealousy—not just simple, petty envy. Not like the envy he felt when someone got to taste the limited edition cupcakes at the bakery before he did or the envy of studying hard and getting a lower score than someone who didn’t (which is a lie because Gojo was that very person who was effortlessly good at everything he did). 
Either way, he’s never felt the bite of jealousy, breaking the flesh as blood drips slowly, lingering as if it could never be washed away from his skin. Never felt it smother his throat with needles and leave him with a metallic taste in his mouth. That is, until today.
It was colder than usual but he still insisted on grabbing some ice-cream from the local convenience store, declaring it was his your reward for putting up with the party Sukuna hosted–the same party that ended in your dress being soaked in vomit. The atmosphere was perfect for sentiment, for talking–for confessing. 
You’re humming to the beat of the song, licking your lips clean of the ice cream you just ate. “Satoru,” you murmur his name softly, staring at him through your lashes. 
“Yeah?” His eyes drink in the sight of you: your droopy eyes from sleep, the faded lip tint on your lips, the hoodie he let you borrow that’s obviously a few sizes too big on you. There’s hardly any light coming in but he can still feel your eyes on him, the tension so thick he thinks he might suffocate from it. 
For a moment, he’s scared, fearful of what you were going to say because he knows this silence. This is the very silence that happens before someone confesses to him, the same suspense that he has to mentally prepare himself for since he knew he was going to break another heart. And he’s terrified that he might have to do it to you–his friend, his neighbor, someone who he’s known for a very long time. 
“I need to tell you something,” you start and he winces, shifting uncomfortably on the driver’s seat. 
“You do?” He mutters. You’re nervous. He can tell because he’s known you long enough to understand what you’re feeling–long enough to know that your eyes are darting from place to place, a habit of yours.
His chest squeezes when you take a deep breath just as he exhales, already making his mind to grant you a swift rejection. He hopes you can forgive him after this.
“--I like Getou and I need your help.”
“Listen, I’m sorry but I just don’t see you that way–”
He blinks, wondering if he heard you right or if he was drunk (he didn’t drink at the party because he was your ride home). “Wait what?”
It was your turn to blink now. “I like Getou and I–”
“I heard you the first time,” he cuts you off hastily, clearing his throat to play it cool. He runs a hand through his hair, grazing the side of his undercut. “Okay wow.”
Gojo mentally curses himself for not knowing what else to say other than humming pensively, busying himself by mixing the ice-cream in the tiny container. He still needs time to process, to mentally upload your words to his brain. You like Getou and not him? He pauses, repeating that thought again. 
You like Getou and not him. Part of him tells himself that this is exactly what he wanted since your friendship wouldn’t go to ruin. You managed not to catch feelings for him–managed not to fall for him like many others. Yet, he’s confused when another part of him doesn’t respond too well once he realizes that this was you he was dealing with.
“That’s not weird right?” You question, bringing your knees up to your chest and propping your chin atop of them to watch his reaction–reminding him to keep it cool. 
“Nah it’s not weird at all,” he said, not thinking straight when his next words escaped his lips. “So why Suguru?” And not me? Though, he keeps that last part to himself. 
“Well isn’t it obvious? He’s tall, handsome, and has a good personality.”
Am I not that? He asks himself, not bothered by how stuck up he may seem. “That’s not very specific from someone who likes him.”
You huff and he can tell you’re narrowing your eyes at him. “I know you don’t wanna hear me yap about the specifics, Satoru.”
“I do.” He says quickly.
You make a noise of surprise, looking interested in his sudden intrigue. “Well okay… Suguru’s very caring and attentive. Being around him makes me feel warm inside you know? I’m not sure when I started liking him but I just know that I just really want to be closer to him. And it doesn’t help that he’s just so smart and nice. And his looks are just a bonus.”
“Oh,” he utters, not even bothering to curse himself for his lack of response. He tries a weak smile. “You must really like him.”
Gojo can’t help but furrow his brows at the semi-embarrassed expression you wear—as if you were flustered at the mere thought of having a crush. “Oh, was I that obvious?” You ask, not even bothering to deny the fact that you were undoubtedly head over heels for his best friend.
Oh god, he thinks he might be sick and he doesn’t know why. 
“Are you going to help me?” Your voice cuts him out of his reverie and he’s cut back into reality–the reality being the anticipation in your eyes. Did you always look this pretty? 
Gojo nearly flinches at the thoughts that cross his mind, blaming the unprocessed shock for being the cause of these obscure ideas. He coughs. “Hold on. So you don’t like me right?”
“What? No I–” your eyes widen in understanding. “Oh so that’s what that was all about. You thought the person I liked was you! How cocky can you be to think everyone’s in love with you?”
“It’s not cocky if it’s true. I’m just really lovable y’know?”
You let out a sarcastic laugh. “That can’t be true since I’m not everyone.”
I know, he thinks to himself, staying silent as he watches you shuffle in your seat. He didn’t just dislike this idea you proposed, he hated it.  It wasn’t hard to just decline and keep it like that–let you figure your feelings on your own. 
Yet, something about the near-pleading look in your eyes made him reconsider and it filled him with an urge to smooth the wrinkles on your expression. He sighs loudly, rubbing the invisible crease in between his brows. “Well I guess you came to the right person because I’m an expert at this. 5 star ratings and all that. But what makes you think I’m going to do this for free?”
“Uh the goodness of your heart?”
“Cute,” he laughs. “But no. I want a coffee from the place everyday for a month.”
“What?! Are you insane? That means I’d have to wake up early everyday to get in line!” 
He shakes his head, waving his finger around with a disappointed expression. “A small price for love.”
“I don’t understand why you even need me for that. You can buy the whole shop yourself, ass,” you whisper the last part behind your palm, making his eyes light up in amusement.
“What was that?”
“Nothing. Actually you know what? Fine,” you huff. “You’re right. It is a small price for love. But I’m not walking back and forth around campus to deliver your coffee.” 
“I got that covered,” he grins, already coming up with a plan in his head. He likes this, the banter you two typically enjoyed. It made your duo, a duo. In a normal situation, he’d relax and continue bothering you. Still, the feeling of dread gnaws at his throat and he tries to swallow it–tries to ignore it by pretending to be the same, goofy Gojo you’re used to. And he’s starting to think it’s hard to do that when you look up at him with such genuine gratitude. 
“Satoru.”
“Hm?”
“Thank you, I mean it.”
Gojo feels that emotion again, that visceral feeling where he might go sick and vomit all over the car. “Yeah.”
He thinks he would’ve preferred if you confessed to him instead. 
Tumblr media
Gojo wonders if stress (if you can call that) is enough to make someone wake up with a hangover the next day. He didn’t drink last night but he thinks he might have–considering the headache that was interrupting his morning. 
He’s in the middle of downing a glass of water when his phone buzzes, your name popping up as a notification. 
(Name): i’m gonna get ur coffee pls come 
Him: come ??? cum
(Name): it’s too early to be doing this 
He sees the bubbles appear before they disappear for a while, only popping up again when he’s in the middle of cracking an egg over the pan 
(Name): SATORU 
(Name): OHMYGOD SATORY SOI SOS 
Him: WHAT 
Him: HELLO??? 
(Name): GETOUS HERE OMG IM GONNA 
(Name): HE SAID HI TO ME 
(Name): WHAT DO I DO?
Gojo grips his phone a bit tighter, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. He sighs.
Him: say hi back 
Him: and then go PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE
(Name): no wtf and i meant what do i after this silly 
(Name): i don’t know what to do im literally an npc rn
(Name): jk he just said bye :(
Him: should’ve done what i told u to do
Another name pops up from the top and his eyes scan the name, his brows raising in curiosity. He huffs at the message, feeling a wave of nausea cross him.
Suguru: You’re close friends with (Name) right?
Him: yeah why 
Suguru: Nothing
It’s silent for a few seconds and Gojo’s back to eating his eggs, tempted to pop a Tylenol to ease the growing headache. Contrary to popular belief, he was against the reliance of pain-relieving meds, opting to let his body figure things out on its own. Luckily for him, having food in his stomach was enough to relieve the headache.
His mind wanders back to the night in the car where you told him to help you with your crush on his best friend–not fully coming to terms with the fact that he wished you liked him instead. Since when did he start feeling this way and why did he need another man to make him realize he liked or even loved you? The thought of anyone having you for themselves was like hearing the sound of nails against a chalkboard and he was jealous. He finally admitted it. 
Gojo Satoru wasn’t an idiot when it came to his feelings and he’d be a fool if he kept denying his undeniable irritation that came with your crush for Suguru. He places the unwashed dish atop some other bowls and utensils, reminding himself to get to that later since his priority was not to keep you waiting at the coffee shop. 
Another buzz and Satoru nearly trips over his feet at the dread he gets from seeing his best friend’s message. Are you kidding me? He thinks to himself as he reads the message again. 
Suguru: She’s cute
Yeah, he thinks he might be sick again.
Tumblr media
Music’s playing in the background to substitute the sound of chatter that’d usually fill the room if Shoko were here. It wasn’t rare for Shoko to not flake on parties and it was even rarer for you to leave your comfort zone and go to one–especially the last one hosted by Sukuna; but this one was different. Suguru was the host and you’d be an idiot to miss it. 
You flinch at the feeling of your mascara poking the inside of your eye, cursing quietly as you take a q-tip to fix the mistake. 
The buzz of your phone makes you freeze.
Gojo: omw to ur house 
Gojo: ill be there in 10 
You: wait satoru don’t get mad but what do i wear 
Gojo: …
Gojo: YOU DIDNT LIKE THINK ABOUT THAT AN HR AGO?
You: I WANNA STAND OUT TO ATTRACT THE LOML OKAY? 
You: so i need ur opinion 
Gojo: dude
Gojo: ok
Gojo: just wear whatever u want it’ll be fine 
You: yeah but what specifically?
Gojo: not smth that makes you look like a grandma 
Gojo: like that dress u wore to the last party 
Gojo: no offense
You: but i liked that dress :(((( 
You: was it that bad?? I mean i had to throw it out bc of the vomit anyways
Gojo: it made u look like a grandma but in a good way 
You: wow okay thanks
Gojo: you looked nice 
Gojo: ANYWAYS  
Gojo: a pair of jeans 
Gojo: and that light blue long sleeve that shows ur shoulders 
You: really? 
Gojo: yeah and i’m leaving my apartment now so hurry up 
You like the message, tapping your lips to even out the lip tint before you rush to put on the shirt and jeans. Doing a quick double-take in the mirror, you spin once and prop your hands on your hips, snapping a few selfies to commemorate this day. 
You’re not sure how much time passes until you hear excessive honking outside, the sound of your phone buzzing as you see Gojo’s caller id. It’s enough to make your eyes roll as you grab your bag–leaving the door locked and the lights off. 
Gojo’s grin is boyish and teasing as his eyes scan you from top to bottom. “Oh look at you,” he coos. “You’re actually wearing what I told you to wear.”
“Well I felt like listening today,” you murmur, feeling a small ripple of embarrassment pass you. 
“Atta girl.”
“Shut up,” you mumble, feeling a grin form when you hear him chuckle. He puts his car into reverse mode, propping his arm on the top of your seat. Up close, you can get a stronger whiff of his cologne–its musk and earthiness slowing your heartbeat, calming you. Your eyes scan his outfit: a black pullover layered atop white t-shirt, paired with a pair of pants that were on the edge of being joggers and trousers.
On anyone else, the outfit wouldn’t have done them good like it did with Gojo. To your displeasure and awe, he looked effortlessly classy. And if he noticed your lingering gaze, he didn’t mention it. 
“What’s your game plan?” His voice draws you back to reality and you watch as he sets the car back into drive mode. 
“Game plan?”
“That’s right,” he glances at you, his shades sliding lower on his nose bridge. “Your plan to seduce the love of your life.”
“I’m not going to seduce him!” You gape, narrowing your eyes at his widening smile. His hand reaches down to turn the volume of the song a bit louder, stopping at the upcoming red light. 
“I’m just joking with you,” he laughs, his eyebrows furrowing slightly before that smile returns to his face, not quite meeting his eyes like it usually does. He sighs before breaking into a laugh that almost sounds bitter. “I’d pay to see that though.”
Tumblr media
At the party, you’d imagine yourself “mingling” with the crowd and letting loose–being the life of the party. Unfortunately for you, your feet are still stuck on the kitchen floor and you’re glued to Gojo’s side. You’d like to blame it on the vomit incident from Sukuna’s party and you’re fortunate enough to not be known as the “girl that someone threw up on.” 
Either way, you weren’t especially fond of the fact that you were keeping Gojo from having fun somewhere else. Like in one of the unoccupied rooms upstairs or in the living room playing some drinking games. It’s enough to make you feel somewhat guilty and suddenly regretful that you even came to this party. 
You tap his shoulder in the kitchen, offering him a reassuring smile. “Satoru. You don’t have to stay with me. I can manage myself!” 
“That’s what you said last time,” he chuckles, rummaging through Getou’s fridge to search for something sweet, frowning when he sees traditional Japanese snacks that his grandparents would eat. “What the hell?” He murmurs to himself.
“I mean it,” you say, taking a few steps back. “You have some fun. I don’t want to bother you too much.”
“You’re not–”
“Satoru. (Name),” a velvety voice greets, all too familiar. A warmth spreads over you. “You made it.”
“Getou,” you murmured to yourself, glancing at Gojo who was already staring at you. 
For a second, you see a subtle tick in his jaw, a sight you blame on the lighting since he’s back to normal the moment he turns to face Getou. He grins that teasing smile of his. “Suguru.”
“You looking through my fridge again, Satoru?” The brunette huffs, kicking the fridge’s door shut lightly–exchanging the grin with his friend. Your heart squeezes as he casts a lingering look at you, his smile polite. “Hey (Name). Good seeing you here.”
“Huh?” You perk up. “Oh you too?”
You inwardly curse at yourself for how awkward you were, giving Gojo a scathing look as he hides his laughter behind his palm. Luckily for you, Getou’s sweet and he was also good at redirecting topics. “You want something to drink?” 
“Oh sure,” you blink, offering a thankful smile. “Thank you Getou–”
“Suguru.” 
You pause, cocking your head to the side in confusion. “Sorry?” 
“Call me Suguru,” he hands you a red, plastic cup–his smile pretty enough to make your breath hitch. “We’ve known each other long enough.”
You feel your heart race as he looks at you expectantly, as if you knew what he wanted you to do next. You fidget, suddenly more bashful at the attention he was giving you. “Thank you Suguru.”
“No problem,” he smiles and you like how he looks satisfied with you. He hands another red cup to Satoru who stood beside you, the sarcastic grin of his returning. You take a tentative sip of the booze, watching curiously as Satoru and Suguru talked amongst themselves–reconnecting despite seeing each other only a day ago. 
You observe the two of them, mapping the details of Suguru’s face before your eyes land on Satoru–suddenly aware of the fact that the boy you spent most of your youth with grew up. Sure, you know that his face attracts attention from everyone but that was a token from childhood. It just didn’t hit you that he matured, grew up to be the man most would dream of dating. The realization is to make you wonder if Gojo ever registered the fact that you were growing too.
Slowly, you take another sip of your drink, blinking slowly as the alcohol settles in your system. Gojo’s the first to notice when you stumble, how your skin seems to heat up. “Hey hey,” he holds you by the shoulders, his voice soft. And if you paid closer attention, you would’ve seen the way Getou’s brows raised at how gentle his friend was acting towards you. “You okay?” 
Amidst your drunken state, you realize that Gojo didn’t bother drinking any of the liquor in his cup during his conversation with Suguru. And Suguru. Sweet Suguru who puts the pieces together and confirms that you’re a lightweight, the guilt evident in his expression. “Oh shit. I forgot how strong this liquor is.” 
“I’m okay,” you mumble and step forward, ready to excuse yourself to the restroom. Gojo looks like he’s about to say something until a group of unfamiliar faces barge into the kitchen, their faces bright as they greet Getou and Gojo with intentions to keep them occupied. Among the chatter and crowd, you find it easy to slip away–rushing to find a restroom. 
The first one you went in was already used by a couple that you remembered mumbling apologies to. The others were either locked or used. At some point, your gut told you to go upstairs and you staggered into an unoccupied bathroom where you splashed cold water on your face–sighing at how nice it felt against your skin.
The music’s only a fraction of its noise from up here and you’re surprised that there’s not much of a group upstairs. There’s a funny feeling in your stomach as you crouch slightly, mentally cursing yourself for downing the whole cup so quickly, ruining your chances to talk with Suguru–coherently at least. Part of you wants to sulk over your spoiled opportunities but another part of you just wants to crash on the tiled floor and sleep–rest your eyes for a bit. 
You’re thankful your mind was still conscious enough to rationalize the unsanitary conditions of the bathroom floor, opting to curl up in one of the hallways instead–shivering at the feeling of cold marble beneath you. Your eyes droop, a yawn escaping you. And you’re almost certain you would’ve fallen asleep if not for the gentle shaking of your shoulders. 
“Stop,” you whine softly, your vision blurry as you catch a glimpse of hair the color of snow and a pair of worried filled blue eyes. Your protests turn quickly to bemusement. “Satoru? What are you doing here?”
You think he smiles as he kneels down on one knee to be eye level with you. “How about I get you off the ground first?” 
“I don’t wanna. Let me sleep here,” you shake your head, ignoring how your body felt warm at how softly he treated you. 
“C’mon,” he chuckles. “The ground’s dirty. Let's get you to a bed at least.”
In your drunken state, your mind still decides it favors a soft comforter over cold marble and you see his eyes soften when you go limp in his arms–letting him lift you from the ground. “Good girl.”
Your mind goes fuzzy at the sound of that and you’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or something else that makes your temperature rise. In that simple moment, you let his arms wrap around you, cradling you to his chest as he makes his way downstairs. All your thoughts stop as your eyes close, drowning the sound of the party out as you permit sleep to take over. His hands give your thighs an occasional squeeze, the gesture oddly intimate yet you don’t bother questioning it or objecting to it. 
Even with the veil of sleep dropping on your form, you still recognize Suguru’s voice as he tells Satoru to take care of you, his tone apologetic–having been the one to give you the liquor. They talk for a bit and once more, you feel the bounce of each step as he carries you out the house.
You’re barely awake when Gojo puts you in the passenger seat and you feel disappointment wash over you when he stops holding you. You’re not sure when you grabbed onto the sleeve of his shirt, your eyes half-lidded as you peered up at him. “Don’t go.”
A noise of protest escapes your lips when he removes your cold hand from his shirt gently, rather taking it in between his warmer ones. “I won’t.”
“Satoru.”
“Hm?”
“I like when you compliment me.”
“Oh yeah?” He says, laughing a bit. “It’s hard not to.”
The music and cheers in Suguru’s house are still audible even in Gojo’s car, your vision getting darker and darker with each blink. Still, you can still feel Gojo’s hand gripping yours–his thumb rubbing circles on the skin as you invite sleep back in, taking deep breaths as you breathe in his cologne. 
And as sleep came to life, you allowed the dreams to live as well. 
Tumblr media
Was there such a thing as a relationship between dreams and memories? In moments of delirium, you can’t single out what’s real and what’s not–was it a dream or did it actually happen?
But now that days have passed and you’ve given yourself more time, you’re certain that Gojo was the one who carried you out of the house and spent his night caring for you. So you ruled out the possibility that the night was a dream, rather a memory that made you feel soft inside–grateful yet unsure. And if you wanted to ponder harder, you would’ve done so if not for the hell you were experiencing this week. 
Forgetting the content during a quiz. Getting yelled at by your boss. Having stepped in bird shit. Waking up late nearly every day because you’d forget to put your alarm on. 
If that wasn’t enough, you got in an argument with your parents over the phone. It was about something stupid and you were so frustrated that you ended up walking to some 7/11–buying yourself an ice-cream to cheer yourself up. The argument was so dumb and you weren’t even sure what you guys were even arguing about. All you knew that you should probably call them later to talk it out; you also knew that this week couldn’t get any worse.
What was Satoru doing right now? You think to yourself, pulling out your phone to check your messages–frowning when you saw none from him. Your eyes land on a message from Suguru, seeing the link he sent you to some video he found funny or intriguing. After the party, you were shocked to see an unknown number texting you, claiming it was Suguru and that Satoru gave your number to him. The day that happened, you texted him using exclamation marks and thanked him–smiling at your phone as you two exchanged witty messages with one another. 
You sighed, unlocking your phone and clicking Satoru’s contact and phoning him. You almost hang up after several rings but you hear his voice after the nth ring. “Hello?”
“Satoru?” You say, your voice cracking the second your lips part to speak. You weren’t expecting to cry and neither did Satoru–though you can hear the concern laced in his voice as he questions your whereabouts. 
“Where are you sweetheart?” You hear rustling in the background amidst his voice and your sniffles. “I’ll pick you up. Your location’s shared with me right?”
“Mhm,” you wipe your eyes, fidgeting with the hem of your hoodie. 
“Okay just stay there and don’t go anywhere. I’ll be there in a few. Don’t cry (Name).”
You think you might cry harder with how sweet his voice was. 
Tumblr media
Satoru thinks he might be the only one who notices the rift between you and him. And he’s not sure if he’s the one causing it or if it’s you. But after that night with you (in his car again), he’s been thinking about how soft you were in his arms; how he liked the way your head drooped against his chest. Or maybe he likes you but he’s not going to think about that unless he wants another headache. 
Regardless, he finds himself looking at his phone sporadically, subconsciously eager to see your name pop up unexpectedly–eager for things to go back to normal. Even though you two still speak, he’s almost sure that he’s not imagining the awkward tension in the air. 
Was he too intrusive when he carried you out to his car? Were you mad at him because he didn’t leave Suguru and you alone in the kitchen? It was a selfish thing to do, he admits. His original idea was to leave you alone with Suguru so you’d get to chat with him–get to know him like you intended to do at the party; but seeing Suguru give you that sly smile of his was enough to make Gojo ditch his plans of playing Cupid. 
If Gojo was a good man, he’d feel happy that you were getting what you wanted since he knew you weren’t the only one interested. Like with the message Suguru sent to Satoru and how he eyed you at the party; how he called Satoru over for a bit and told him that he understood why people liked you or found you attractive; how he commented on how the shirt you wore suited you. 
No shit, I picked it, he thought to himself as he recalled that night. Satoru always knew you were beautiful and he hated that everyone else knew too. You weren’t even his yet but he didn’t want to share you–to let anyone else hold you or have you. Seeing you blush and smile shyly at his best friend made him want to puke—made him want to claw his eyes out. That should be him and god he wishes it was.
He was selfish yet he never promised to be good. Yet, this was for you. He wanted you to be happy, is what he told himself whenever he saw you and Suguru talking. 
His phone buzzes and it’s almost embarrassing how quickly he snatches it, the anticipation in his eyes fading when he sees that it’s Suguru messaging him about the party today. Satoru sighs, rubbing the spot between his brows as he leans on the kitchen counter, suddenly reminded that he planned a party at his place today. It was an impulsive decision to forget about the tension between you two and Satoru’s kinda wishing he took the time to talk it out with you rather than planning something else. 
He invited a good amount of people and was going to invite you as well to give him a reason to call you. But lucky for him, you made things easier for him by calling him. Satoru thinks it’s not healthy for his blood temperature to rise just at the sight of your name on his phone and he’s already grinning when he picks up. “Hello?”
“Satoru?” 
Oh. He pauses, his brows furrowing at how your voice cracked as you tried to hide your sniffles. His first thought was to wonder who made you sad and he thinks it’s scary how hearing you cry was enough to send his emotions in a frenzy. But you needed him and he didn’t want you to be alone. “Where are you sweetheart?” He asks, the nickname flowing off his tongue before he can stop. “I’ll pick you up. Your location’s shared with me right?”
“Mhm,” You mumbled back and his heart nearly snapped in two with how dejected you sounded. He frowns, grabbing his jacket and his keys–rushing to slip on his sneakers. 
“Okay just stay there and don’t go anywhere. I’ll be there in a few. Don’t cry (Name).”
You make a sound of understanding and he hangs up, his finger tapping to click on Suguru’s contact. Satoru hears other familiar voices in the background but he doesn’t pay much attention to it. 
“What’s up Satoru–?”
“Party’s off.”
“What? Wait what are you–”
“Sorry something came up. I’ll tell you later,” he says, hanging up before his friend can say anything else. He knows he should feel bad for flaking out last minute but his list of priorities had you at the top of it. And he really didn’t care if anyone else would understand. 
Tumblr media
You’re regretting the choice of shorts in the chilly night air and the ice-cream you ate wasn’t helping you shiver any less. 
The way Satoru sounded made that warm, fuzzy feeling settle in your stomach again. He sounded like he would drop whatever he was doing just to get to you and it made you feel special. You think back to the sound of “sweetheart” from his lips, shaking your head when you feel your blood get warm.
“(Name)?” Satoru’s voice startles you from your thoughts and you think the sound of it could erase all your troubles. “You alright?” He asks, shrugging the jacket off his shoulders and draping them over your legs, kneeling down to see your face.
You only nod. “I want to go home.”
“Yeah I can take you back–”
“No,” you shake your head. “Back to your place.”
For a moment, you’ve stunned him but that surprise left as fast as it arrived. He sighs, tapping your knee with his finger. “Usually dinner comes first–”
“Not like that you idiot,” you kick him lightly, a grin forming on your lips. “Your methods of comforting are weird.”
“Yeah?” He laughs, the sound blending with the wind. “Well maybe I’m not trying to comfort you,” he eyes you with a teasing glint in his eyes and flashes a lopsided grin. He looked almost sweet as he did sly, the blend making your heart pick up in pace. 
You squirm, mustering a tone of nonchalance. “I changed my mind. I’m going back to my place.”
This time he chuckles, his eyes narrowing in amusement. “Nuh uh. It’s my job to wipe that frown off your face,” he says, the corny phrase making you roll your eyes. “C’mon, I’ll be good to you.”
You pretend to think, ignoring the attentive expression he wore. “Fine. I guess I’ll let you take me home.”
“That’s my girl,” he grinned, standing up to his full height. You beam at him, matching his steps as you two reach his door. By the time the two of you were settled at his place, you already spoke to your parents in private–clearing up the misunderstandings like Satoru reminded you to do. You were glad you had him and even more glad that things were falling back to place. 
Your eyes scan your surroundings, noticing how he must’ve tidied things up. “Did you clean your place?”
“Hm?” He grabs two mugs from the cabinet. “Oh yeah. I was going to have a party here.”
“Today?”
“That’s right,” he drawls, glancing at you from the corner of his eyes. “I was going to call you to see if you wanted to go.”
“Really?” That was a shock to you. “Are you still gonna have one today?”
“Nah. Canceled it last minute.”
You pause, raising your brows as you try not to jump to conclusions. “Why’d you cancel it?”
“Had better things to do. I'd rather hang out with you anyways,” he says casually, smiling when he finds the packets of hot cocoa. “Found it!”
Did he cancel the party for me? You think to yourself, a bit surprised that you came to that conclusion; but if you were right and he did, you wouldn’t know what to feel other than appreciation and maybe something else. Whether that was true or not, you know that you should be feeling guilt and not giddiness from having him prioritize you. Was it normal to feel this way for Satoru? You’re about to let your thoughts fill your head but you feel your breath hitch at how he seems to lean closer to you. 
His hands move you by the hips, the touch barely lasting five seconds. “Sorry I gotta get the spoons,” he murmurs, paying no mind to how you hold your breath. Your eyes fall to his biceps, swallowing a gasp as you see how the black material of his shirt moved with every movement he makes. There was no way he was human when he looked like that.
Oh my god, you think to yourself, suddenly mortified at the fact that you were checking him out. What was wrong with you right now? You always knew Gojo was attractive but you didn’t think he was this attractive. And if he had any idea of your internal conflict he didn’t pay it any mind. 
“Can you go get the movie ready for me?”
“Uh huh,” you nod immediately, quickening your pace as you try to distract yourself. By the time he sits next to you, the blankets and snacks are already placed neatly on the living room table. You smile and mutter a thank you when he hands you the mug of hot cocoa. 
“Feel better?” He asks, propping an arm on the head of the couch once you’re halfway through the movie: a random romcom you picked to cheer you up. Even as someone who claims he’d rather watch a movie with more action, you think the drama that comes with romcoms intrigues him–much more than he’d like to admit. 
You take a sip of your drink, your eyes flitting to him. “Much better.”
“I bet,” he murmurs, his eyes glancing at the way your knees touched. The scene panels to a teary confession the female lead does, the music dramatic with strings in the background. You watch intently, observing the expressions both characters make on screen.
“Y’know, I never understood how they can always come up with a speech like that on the spot,” Satoru comments, plopping a few gummy bears in his mouth. “Isn’t that unrealistic?”
“It’s a movie,” you point out, watching as the male lead hung onto every word the female lead had to say. “It’s not supposed to be realistic.”
“I guess you’re right. But that stuff apparently happens in real life right?”
“Wouldn’t you know? You have people confessing to you all the time.”
“I don’t give them much time to continue speaking,” he shrugs. 
You don’t like how uneasy you feel after he says that. “Well, maybe it’s love that makes this kind of stuff happen.”
This earns you an amused snicker. “Of course you’d say that. You gonna do that with Suguru? Confess to him from the bottom of your heart?”
You roll your eyes. “To do that, I’d have to be in love with him.”
“Are you?”
“No,” you give him an incredulous look. “I hardly know the guy. I just really like him.”
He makes a sound of understanding but you feel as if you’re deluding yourself when you see the look of relief cross his face. You turn to him, the movie forgotten all of a sudden. “Would you do that?”
“What? Confess to Suguru with the bottom of my heart?” 
“Yeah sure. That’s what I meant.” you huff, seeing his teasing grin form. You sigh. “No like…confess to someone you love.”
He’s quiet, the faraway look in his eyes confirming that he’s deep in thought. You’re not sure why a pang of irritation hits you when you realize that there might be someone Satoru’s in love with. And you’re not sure if it’s because he’s not telling you or because you want to be that someone. You go with the former because you’re supposed to like Suguru. 
His eyes wander to meet yours and the tick in his jaw makes you nervous–makes your palms sweaty because he’s never looked at you like that. You’re not even sure words could describe what emotion he had on his face. He smiles–not the smile that’s crooked and boyish. It’s the smile that’s sharp and makes his eyes narrow. “I might.”
“You might?” You ask, hating how breathless your voice sounded to your ears–something that he notices with the way amusement practically glimmers in his eyes. You swallow a gasp when his gaze falls to your lips, quickly flying back to your eyes. 
“Maybe,” he whispers and you can’t help but wet your lips, feeling faint when the bright blue of his eyes darkens to black. You don’t flinch when his head tilts, his arm coming to the side to trap you between the couch. His cologne overwhelms you, makes you drunk on him. He’s so close that you can feel his breath hit your face. 
“Satoru–” 
The sound of your phone buzzing crushes the tension quickly and you let him lean back–looking as if he had more to say. You feel a smidge of disappointment as you grab your phone. “It’s Suguru,” you say and you’re not sure why your inner voice begs Satoru to tell you to ignore the phone call–to act like he cares more. 
“Shouldn’t you answer it?” He questions and you hate that sinking feeling in your stomach when he doesn’t even spare a glance at you–as if acting like he wasn’t about to kiss you seconds ago. You can only frown, nodding as you watch him stand up–still not offering you one single look. “I’ll clean up.”
As you glance at your phone, at the name of Suguru appearing on your screen, you hope for the slightest bit of joy–that lovesick feeling you get whenever you’d see him. Yet, it felt wrong. This felt wrong. And apparently, Suguru could tell from your voice that there was something bugging you. 
“Is everything alright? You don’t sound too good.”
Your eyes linger on Satoru’s figure moving to the kitchen. You think Suguru mentions something about a date but you don’t pay much attention, not feeling all that bad as you drown out his voice. “Yeah. I’m fine. What were you saying?”
“I was asking if you wanted to go to dinner with me tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at 7 and we can–”
“Sure,” you say, trying to ignore the way your body lurches at your response–as if it didn’t want this. “Sure. I’ll see you at 7.”
You don’t catch what he says when he hangs up, only thinking of how Satoru looked at you when he was leaning closer. The thought doesn’t horrify you as much as it should but you think that if he had kissed you, you probably would’ve kissed him back. 
Tumblr media
If someone told you a month ago that you were going on a date with Suguru, you would’ve cried tears of joy and celebrated. But now, you’re almost undeniably feeling a wave of indifference hit you and it feels awful. Suguru’s perfect–his sharp features and his charming smile that’d send anyone into a frenzied mess. Or maybe most tend to fixate on how suave he is with his words–mixing the subtlest of flirtations with simple compliments.
He’s everything you could’ve asked for. Yet, you find yourself missing the ruthless beauty you saw in Satoru–the striking blue of his eyes and the rare color of his hair. You find yourself missing the rasp of his voice, how it’d soften that night when he comforted you; you find yourself missing his warm and strong embrace as he took care of you in your inebriated state; you find yourself missing how close he was that night on his couch and how he looked at you. 
At some point, you found yourself replaying that scene over and over again. The first few times, you were giddy with hormones as you imagined him leaning closer and kissing you. After a while, you wanted the image gone because it didn’t happen. He pulled away. He let you pick up the call from Suguru. He acted like nothing happened when in reality, a lot did happen. You two were finally breaching the line of friends and he knew that. 
So why? That question plagued your mind for days after and every time you think you forgot about it, the memory of him would remind you all over again. And when he only congratulated you when you told him about your date with Suguru you felt betrayed. Why don’t you care? You almost blurted out but technically he did care. After all, he was the one who was trying to set you guys up so why did you suddenly want to change your mind?
You think you might hate him a little for being so good at acting like everything’s normal and you think you might hate more for making your heart beat so fast. Things weren’t supposed to end up like this. You weren’t supposed to imagine your best friend kissing you breathless or taking you on a date. 
Everything’s going to fall into place, you tell yourself. You’ve already dolled up and were in the middle of spraying your perfume when Getou messaged you that he was already here. He’s relaxed in the car as you enter the car. This scene feels the same, you think to yourself, recalling the way Gojo greeted you the last time he picked you up.
“You’re wearing the shirt you wore to the party,” Getou points out and you look down at your shirt, gaping at the revelation that you’re wearing the same top Gojo told you to wear. Even with the company of another man, your subconscious still wishes he was here. 
“I didn’t even notice,” you mumble, smiling at the brown-haired male as he drives. The small talk is all natural as you two make your way to the restaurant and you’re grateful that Suguru’s such an easy person to talk with. He’s nice. Really nice and you feel almost guilty for not being as enthusiastic as you wanted to be. 
It’s only when you’re midway through the meal that he mentions it. “You’re not here.”
“What?”
“Here,” he shrugs, glancing at you with an empty smile. “You’re thinking about something else aren’t you?”
“I’m not–”
“Don’t worry I’m not mad,” he says and you know he’s telling the truth. “I’m curious. What are you thinking about?”
This makes you squirm in discomfort, a bit uneasy at how perfectly he read you. Satoru’s always made comments about Getou’s intuitive feeling for emotions and you’re starting to think he wasn’t exaggerating. “What if I don’t wanna tell you?” You joke.
“Then you’d leave me to assume,” he answers easily, the corner of his lips curling upwards. “I’m not an idiot (Name). I know when a lady’s thinking about someone else in my presence.”
When you try to protest, he only smiles. “Is it Satoru?”
Your silence is enough said. You want to deny him–want to shake your head and utter a firm “no.” But something about the question makes you lose your sense of thought and Suguru understands that too. “Are you in love with him?”
This catches your attention. “No. I like you not him.”
“Aren’t we well past the point of lying now?” He gives a good-natured chuckle. “If you liked me then you wouldn’t have looked at your phone so many times as if you were expecting a call.”
You widen your eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to–”
“Nah I’m really not mad,” he sighs. “But I’m interested in why you didn’t decline my offer for a date.”
You’re silent for a while, musing over his words. “When you called me, Satoru and I were about to kiss. Or well–at least I think we were about to kiss.
“So why’d you pick it up? I know Satoru enough to know that a call from me isn’t enough to make him stop with whatever he’s doing,” he raises a brow and you catch a roll of his eyes as he remembers something. 
“It’s because he was the one who was setting us up together.”
Suguru makes a sound of confusion, nodding at you to continue. You take a big breath. “I asked Satoru to help me get with you.”
Getou makes a “o’ with his mouth, nodding in consideration as he processes your words. His pity makes you feel small and you’re finally experiencing the impact tenfold. “Oh (Name).”
“Yeah,” you shrug. “So now I’m pretty sure I messed up the friendship because I was stupid and he’s never gonna like me back–”
“That’s not true,” he stops you, taking a sip from his wine. “Satoru’s different around you.”
“Well that’s because I’ve known him for a while now.”
“Maybe. But he doesn’t go out of his way to help people like he does with you. Even an idiot could notice that.”
“That doesn’t mean he likes me back–”
“You don’t know that yet,” he retorts, that smile of his returning again. “Just like I didn’t know you were in love with my best friend the entire time.”
You wince, swallowing as you peer up at him. You know he didn’t intend for the comment to burn but a small part of you thinks he did it on purpose. The sight of you sulking brings a wider grin to play on his face. “Relax. I’m only playing with you,” he pauses. “I’m a bit jealous that Satoru's got such a cute girl in love with him though.” 
His teasing makes you laugh. “What if he doesn’t love her back?”
“Then he’d be an idiot,” he says, giving you a look as he asks for the bill. “If he breaks your heart you know who to go to. I’d be happy to have you for myself.”
You roll your eyes, smiling softly when he coyly smiles. Suguru was kind enough to offer to drop you off at your place but you told him you wanted to see Satoru—bringing a surprised look on the brown-haired male’s face. You’re not sure how apparent it was, but you reeked of anxiety and Suguru was quick to point it out.
“I’ll wait for you,” he says nonchalantly, shooing you with his hand once you stare at him in bewilderment. “Go. Just do me a favor and message me when you guys are gonna get uh intimate.”
“We’re not—“ you click your tongue at his grin. You thank him, rushing to Satoru’s flat—the sound of your heels clicking against the floor. 
If you were in a movie, there would be dramatic music playing in the background—perhaps orchestra or a sappy love song. The scene was so cliche but you’re understanding why the protagonists always ran: it was love. You were in love with Gojo Satoru. 
You ring his doorbell, fixing your hair as you ready yourself to see him—mentally preparing the script of your confession. Please be home, please be home, please—
The door opens and a plethora of blue looks back at you, the surprise evident in them. You visibly brighten, smiling as you see him. “Satoru I—“
“Satoru?” another voice says from behind him—the voice evidently female. You freeze, feeling as if this image was in slow motion as you see a glimpse of a girl behind Satoru. Your eyes flit to both of them, the speech you prepared in your head drying up like a sore. “Who’s this?”
You hate that you can only watch. “It’s just a friend. Why don’t you go back inside for a bit, yeah?”
She’s so pretty, it hurts. There wasn’t a speck of imperfection on her and the need to curl up in a ball never felt stronger. The girl nods at Satoru, glancing at you in curiosity as she leaves you two alone. 
You think you might hate a little bit for looking at you in concern. “Is there something wrong? Are you okay? If something—“
“No. Nothing’s wrong I’m just—“ you say, wishing your voice was louder at this moment. You avoid his eyes, fearing that you’d end up crying in front of him if you continued to stare at him. “I need to go.” 
“What? But you just got here—“
“I don’t know why I came here. This was a mistake and I—“ you sigh shakily, turning on your heel to leave. 
Satoru grabs you by the wrist, his gaze soft as he shakes his head when he sees you try to pry his hand off of you. “Just tell me what I can do—“
“Suguru’s waiting for me,” you say quickly, ignoring the way his face drops. “He’s outside right now.” 
You hold your breath the moment his hand slowly slips off your wrist, taking a few steps back as you make your way outside. Not once do you turn back as you try your best to hold the tears in—ultimately failing as they fall as quickly as they appear. 
By the time you reach Suguru’s car, your make-up is already ruined. At first, he snaps his head back at you with a smile, the curve of lips quickly disappearing as he sees your lip trembling. “No?”
“No,” you confirm, sitting back into the car and wiping your tears with a tissue he hands you. There’s no words spoken between you two as he starts the car, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. Ironically, you listen to the soundtrack of “The Other Woman” playing in his car and he’s quick to change the song. He clears his throat.
“I didn’t think he was that stupid,” he says after some time, signaling right as he reaches the stop light. 
“He wasn’t,” you murmur. “I was the stupid one for thinking that we could be more than friends.”
Tumblr media
After the ordeal a couple nights ago, you’re not even ashamed that you’re blatantly avoiding Gojo like the plague. You even turned off your read receipts for him which you would’ve found so petty if you didn’t feel so frantic at the sound of his name. Originally, you thought he’d put up more of a fight and be more persistent in getting your attention–only you were proven wrong when you didn’t see any of his attempts increasing. 
Disappointed, you were caught in a dilemma. You wanted this distance but craved his presence. At some point, your thoughts ran dry and you were in a slump. Were you always this bad at making up your mind?  
No. You weren’t. You didn’t think excessively hard when you decided you liked Getou and when you stopped liking him. Nor did you think super hard about your other crushes. Gojo made your brain hurt and if this was love, you’re not sure you really liked it; but it felt so nice to think about how it would feel to be loved by him–to have him kiss you. 
Which is why you thought it was a great idea to avoid him because surely time makes the feelings fade. And you hope they fade fast–especially after you saw him with that girl. You bite back your jealousy at the thought of what they did together. Today was supposed to be a mental health day. It was if fate allowed you to have little to nothing to do and you were going to take advantage of it. 
The coffee house was ambient with the occasional loud laughter from groups of friends. You were halfway through your book, taking a sip from your drink as you flipped the pages. This was what you were meant for: reading novels in a cafe, keeping a low profile, and protecting your peace. 
You’re about midway through the big plot twist until you hear the sound of a chair scraping and your heart freezes in your chest when you see Gojo stare back at you. Only this time, he looks serious and even annoyed. 
“I knew I’d find you here,” he begins, tapping his finger nails on the wooden table. You don’t miss the way a few people take a few double-takes when they walk past him. So much for keeping a low profile. 
“Gojo,” you acknowledge him awkwardly, fidgeting with the pages of your book.
Your stomach does a flip when his jaw twitches and his eyes cross your face. He sighs, leaning back and adjusting his seating position. “Are you mad at me?”
“Why would I be mad at you?”
“You literally just called me Gojo,” he said and if you were more rational, you would’ve laughed at how childish he sounded over you not using his first name. 
“A lot of people call you Gojo,” you point out, still not meeting his eyes. 
“You’re not just ‘a lot of people.’ And you always call me Satoru,” he murmurs. 
You tense up. There he goes again: treating you like you’re special. It makes you confused and makes your heartbeat skip. You clear your throat. “I’m not mad at you.”
“Then why are you avoiding me?” He says, a bit loudly at that. It was unlike Gojo to attract attention to personal matters in public and the guilt hits you. You were so caught up in your own feelings that you completely ignored how he would’ve felt. Even if he only thought of you as a friend, anyone would’ve felt mad if put in the situation you put Gojo in. 
You glance at the curious gazes in the cafe, grabbing him by the hand as you pull him outside to a secluded area. You quickly drop his hand, a bit surprised that he let you even hold it. “What are you talking about?” You ask, not sure why you’re playing dumb. 
“You’re avoiding me,” he says, staring down at you. Sometimes, you forget how tall Satoru really is and how his gaze can make anyone feel small. “Did I do something to make you mad?”
You think back to him and the girl. “No you didn’t do anything.”
“Then what the hell is it?” He says, sounding more mad than you initially thought. His eyes scan over your face–observing your pursed lips and aversion from his eyes. He clicks his tongue. “Is this about the other night?”
You really wish you didn’t snap your head so fast to meet his eyes. The other night could’ve meant many things but you knew he was referring to a specific one. “No,” you say and you already know he doesn’t believe you. 
“(Name),” he says softly. “Were you jealous?” Hearing him saying it out loud makes you cringe. You shake your head adamantly, trying to muster up the courage to not break eye-contact with him. You wonder if he could hear how loud your heartbeat was. “I’m not jealous. Why would I be jealous?”
“You tell me,” he voices in that tone that tells you that he’s already figured it out. For all the years you’ve known Gojo, you’ve become well-acquainted with his habits and his mannerisms. And you knew him well enough to realize that he wasn’t going to stop with the questions until you told him the truth. 
He always did this. Always made sure to pummel the truth out of you and it didn’t matter how dirty he played. “Then why did you go to me in the first place? Didn’t you have Suguru outside waiting for you?”
“I–”
“What was so important about what you wanted to tell me that you left Suguru waiting for you? What was it and why are you so scared that you’re avoiding me?”
“It’s because I like you!” You finally say, knowing that he bested you in this game of his. The regret hits you so hard you feel like running away again. Only this, he doesn’t let you when he pulls you by the shoulder. 
“What?” He says breathlessly, his eyes wide with wonder. It’s over, you think to yourself. He’s going to hate you after this because you ruined the friendship. 
“I avoided you because I like you,” you admit quietly. “And because I saw you with that girl the other night.”
“(Name)...” 
“Stop,” you murmur, feeling the tears form. “Stop. I already know what you’re gonna say, okay? It doesn’t matter anymore.”
You shrug him off, wiping your tears with your sleeve. The plans for “protecting your peace” almost seemed silly now because you couldn’t rewind time and undo all of this. You don’t bother saying goodbye to Gojo as you take your chances in leaving. And you desperately wonder how you were going to move on from this. 
Tumblr media
Gojo thinks he’s in a fever dream. Your confession stunned him into oblivion and if it weren’t for your tears, he thinks he might’ve stayed in one spot for hours on end. The night you came over, Gojo already had enough on his mind. Seeing you in the flesh made him lose the logical side of his brain and his mind just replayed that night you two nearly kissed. 
He remembered being able to taste how nervous you were–how you found purchase on his shoulders as he tried his hardest not to pin you to the couch and kiss you stupid. He remembered how soft you were and how that thought would torture him for days on. 
Gojo knew what he did after was an asshole move but he thought the phone call from Suguru served as a reminder that he couldn’t have you. You two were best friends and to ruin that because he wanted you was selfish of him. He was already selfish enough to want to keep you for himself but you wanted Suguru. 
That’s why when you came to his place, he was confused. Gojo did something stupid and didn’t want the thoughts of you to keep popping up. He recalled dialing the number of some girl he stopped talking to ages ago just to not have you occupy his mind. 
When he saw your brows furrow at the sight of her, he was surprised to say the least. He ruled out the possibility of jealousy early on and just kept it as that. But now, on this chilly afternoon and in some secluded corner, you were confessing to him. 
You like him. You like him back. Sure, you didn’t love him like he loves you (or at least he thinks so) but that's besides the point. He collects himself the moment he sees the tears forming in your eyes, panic coursing through him. 
Did his silence make you misunderstand? Did you know that he was ready to scream and tell the whole world that he finally got the girl of his dreams? How he was prepared to pull you into a crushing hug and hold you like he had heaven in his arms? 
He forgot you weren’t a mind reader and it dawned on him that he caused your tears. He doesn’t want to be the guy who lets misunderstandings marinate nor does he want to be the cause of your fallout. He was going to fix this. 
If you thought he was going to let you go that easily then you severely underestimate him. Because Gojo Satoru was willing to fight for your love.
Tumblr media
You think you’re in some sappy k-drama when he grabs you by the wrist the second time. If you weren’t crying your eyes out, you would’ve laughed at him and he would’ve laughed with you. But there’s only a wave of frustration when he doesn’t let go. “Satoru let me go–”
“No,” he says with a deadpan and you almost think he sounds desperate. You’re about to say something but he only steps closer. “You can’t run away like you did before. That’s the easy way out–”
“I’m not–”
“You are,” he interrupts. “And I’m not gonna let you because you’re gonna listen to what I have to say.”
You’re almost reluctant to stay silent but you give in when he squeezes your wrist–as if begging you to stay. You sigh. “Fine.”
“Good,” he whispers, racking his brain for what to say. He takes a deep breath. “A while back, I said I didn’t understand how the characters from romance movies always knew what to say in moments like these. You know those super long speeches? It seemed unrealistic to me but I think I understand now.”
You let him continue, clinging onto every word that falls from his lips. “It’s so easy to say stuff like this. When you’re in love with someone, you notice the little things about them. I noticed you and you were the only thing on my mind. You still are the only thing on my mind. Do you get what I mean?”
You watch in awe as he continues, stuttering over some of his words which was so rare for him. “The night you told me you liked Suguru I was so annoyed. I’ve never gotten jealous of Suguru or anyone but I wanted to be the one that you liked. I wanted to be the one that you dressed up for and the one you smiled at. It drove me insane when you went on a date with him and I hate that I didn’t just say fuck it and steal you away sooner.”
He takes a chance to catch his breath, ruffling his hair as he finally flashes you a crooked grin–a mix of embarrassed and boyish. “That girl you saw me with…I never did anything with her,” he admits and you think you might fall over from shock. “I couldn’t. I just kept thinking about you and I wanted you on my mind all the time. I didn’t want to think about anyone else and didn’t want anyone to take your place–”
“What I’m trying to say is that I’m in love with you,” he finally says. “I already said that earlier but I want to say it again. I think I’ve always loved you–even when we were kids. I think little kid me always wanted your attention. I just never knew what I felt until I realized that you weren’t mine–not mine to love. And I don’t think there’s nothing in the world that I want more than you.”
At this point, your mouth is already ready to catch flies as you listen to his ramblings about his affections. You think you might cry. Gojo’s usually not good with words but you can tell how genuine he is–how much he meant this. “Then all those times you helped me with Suguru?”
“I hated doing that,” he huffs. “I swear I was about to punch Suguru every time he called you cute.”
You laugh, feeling jittery all over. “Would you?”
“I’m a bit worried that you like that idea a bit too much.”
You grin, shrugging. “Maybe a little. I guess I should tell you that I really wanted you to kiss me when we were on the couch.”
“You did?” He practically beams, cupping your face with his hand. You feel your stomach do twists when his thumb grazes the skin of your cheek softly, as if this was always normal. 
“And I should probably tell you that I love you too,” you say firmly, gaining a rush of confidence. “And you should probably kiss me right now.”
The smile on his face might just be the prettiest thing you’ve seen in the world. He leans in, cupping your face as he presses his lips against yours. The way he holds you makes you feel safe and you think you might love him a little more when he moves his hand to your neck. 
You break the kiss. “Does this mean we’re dating now?”
He laughs. “Do I need to kiss you again for you to say yes?” 
When you nod, he pulls you in again and again. And if this was his way of asking, you’d say yes each time. 
2K notes · View notes
luveline · 24 days
Note
Bombshell r loosing her mind when Spence walks into work late that one day and he has the “boy band” haircut
“What’s with the face?” 
Morgan raises his eyebrows at you, waiting for an answer you don’t have. 
“What’s wrong with my face?” you ask. 
“Nothing–”
“Clearly.” 
“You look way too happy, considering.” He gestures to the board currently displaying a grisly crime scene photo and the empty seat across from you. “Another case, and a severe lack of your favourite toy.” 
“Spencer isn’t my toy, he’s my sweetheart, and I’m gutted he’s running late but I’m toughing it out.” 
Being on the team is all you’ve ever wanted. With Gideon long gone and enough time elapsed between Strauss’ political push for Emily, you’re here permanently, where you’ve always wanted to be. It’s been the best few months of your life. A lot of that due to Spencer’s unfailing friendship. He’s so kind to you. You’re really getting along. 
“Let’s focus in,” Hotch says. 
You bridle with excitement, poorly contained. You don’t get very far into spitballing when JJ’s lips part in bemusement.
“Well, hello,” she says. 
You turn in your chair away from JJ and Penelope where they’re giving the presentation to the door, where Spencer is smiling genially. He sits down with his bag still on his shoulder, a heavy silence having fallen over the room. 
Spencer has cut his hair. Gone is the long, mostly straight lengths of his hair. Did he get a perm? You’re shell-shocked. “Oh my god,” you mumble to yourself. 
“What, did you join a boyband?” Hotch asks, frowning. 
His lips part in small offence. “No,” he says. 
Emily and Morgan laugh. Spencer tucks his chair in, and you don’t know who wants to say what or how quickly you’re supposed to pretend to get over this, but you don’t care. “Spencer!” you say, “Spencer!” 
“L/N, please don’t start.” 
Hotch is only saying please because he knows he had his own reaction he could’ve kept internal, how can he ask you to smother your own. You lean hard across the table and gaze at Spencer lovingly —startled but inarguably infatuated.
“You’ve never, ever looked this handsome before,” you say, true and not true, “ever. I gotta–” Your hand reaches out at the same moment your legs decide to stand. “Can I touch it?” 
Hotch sighs with disappointment. 
You pass behind your teammates' chairs to look at him. 
“Stop,” Spencer says immediately, his palm to your stomach. “You’re being mean.” 
“I’m being mean? You didn’t even consult me.” 
“It’s my hair.” 
“Spencer, you’re gorgeous no matter what, but I need some warning if you don’t want me to do this.” 
“Sit back down,” Morgan says, rolling his eyes. 
You tuck one lovely curl behind Spencer’s ear carefully. “I love it so much, I can’t believe it. This is the best thing that’s happened to me since I joined the BAU.” 
1K notes · View notes
peachesofteal · 21 days
Text
Simple Math / Part Eleven
Simple Math masterlist
Tumblr media
Ghost/Soap/female reader 6k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Graphic depiction of domestic violence. This fic contains mature themes. Mention of pregnancy. Nurse!reader, hospital setting, medical inaccuracies. Bun is in pain, goes to a doctor. Dissociation. Lots of despair, fear, anxiety. The 141 reunites. Nightmares. Comfort. Tenderness. Angst. Welcome home.
“Knock knock.”
“Bunny.” Johnny murmurs, lifting an arm, urging you close, a moon to a tide.
“Hi.” You bend, moving into the hug, pressing your face to his neck for a quick second before straightening.
“I miss ye.” You survey him, glancing at the monitor, the brace on his leg and hip, the disconnected fluid line. He’s doing well. You’re so relieved to see it with your own eyes, ribs rattling with a long exhale. Satisfied, you smile, tension bleeding from your spine. 
“Simon says you’re terrorizing your night nurse.”
“Am not. She’s jus’ not gentle, or quiet. Wakes me up.”
“That’s her job.” He scoffs, waving you off. You settle in the chair at his side, and he takes your hand in his, lifting it to his lips, dotting kisses across your knuckles. His affection is freeing, sweet and easy, a warm breeze on a spring day. It overflows your heart with warmth until you think it might spill over, and you go with it, following his lead, even though your better judgement, the girl in the mirror, wails.
“Ye look good. Better. Swellin’ gone down?” He cradles your chin, turning your face from left to right, inspecting with a crystal-clear sapphire gleam.
“Yeah, my shoulder is still sore but… yeah. I feel better.”
“’m glad. Simon keepin’ ye off yer feet all day then?”
“Oh my god.” You laugh. “He keeps telling me to lay down. Or asking if I want to take a nap.” Johnny chuckles.
“Sounds right. He’s a bit o’ a mother hen, that one. He cares though, we both do.”
“I know.” You squeeze his hand. “And I missed you too.”
“He said ye an’ him had a nice chat the other night?” Your cheeks burn. Oh god. Did he… “I’m a wee bit jealous.” He complains, turning his nose up and away in a mock pout, and you roll your eyes.
You laid in bed all night and thought about these moments. Thought about Simon’s mouth on yours, his hand on your ass, squeezing and stroking. You thought about how he tasted, how he smelled, the way he looked at you, like you were a part of their world, a piece of them.
And you thought about Johnny. Johnny alone here, Johnny trapped in the hospital, healing, unable to leave or even get out of bed. How anxious he must be, being separated from his family, how frustrating it is to spend so long trying to get better.
You wanted to give him something. Wanted to make him feel better, see him smile.
Here goes nothing. 
Leaning, standing, you dip into his orbit, lightly bumping your noses together. It takes no time until his good hand is around the back of your neck, crashing your mouth into his, and he breathes you in, holding you steady, tongue and teeth and lips swirling together in a ubiquitous, overwhelming haze. He tastes like summer rain, the feeling in the air before a giant storm, electric and blazing, brilliant glow transferring between the two of you, lightning striking a mountaintop. He nips your bottom lip, heat flooding your stomach, and you pull away slowly, his eyes jeweled and shimmering, brilliantly blue.
“Bunny,” You try to swallow a quiet giggle and fail. “I’ll have to tell ye I’m jealous more often.”
“Don’t take advantage.” You playfully scold.
“Me? Take advantage?” He pretends to be outraged, voice piquing higher, and you laugh again. “How can I take advantage when ‘m the one stuck here in this bed while ye two are at home, playin’ house, takin’ couch naps and gettin’ butt rubs. No one cares about Johnny, no-“
“Shhh.” You press your lips to his, silencing him, remaining in the kiss that’s long and soft and saccharine. He sneaks his tongue back between your teeth, mischievous and wild, every bit the man you’re drawn to, an attraction you can’t fight.
“Well.” Simon clears his throat from the doorway, brows raised, mask snug. “Hope I’m not interrupting.” You don’t know why, but you fly backwards, nearly stumbling, cheeks on fire. You feel like you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t, and that feeling, the pit in the bottom of your stomach, is all too reminiscent.
It frightens you.
“Whoa, hey.” Johnny tries to snag a finger around your wrist, but you step out of the way.
“It’s alright.” Simon moves inside fully, clicking the door shut behind him. “You’re not in trouble. Nothing is wrong, I was just kidding. That’s my fault.” You shake your head.
He’s not mad. Johnny is fine. Everything is fine. 
You’re overreacting. You’re making a mess of this. 
You shouldn’t even be doing this in the first place. What’re you doing? Who are you kidding? 
“I’m s-sorry.” You stammer, hands wringing together anxiously.
“Ye dinnae have anything to be sorry about.” Johnny protests, still trying to reach for you.
Get it together. You have to get it together. 
You close your eyes.
Deep breath. In and out. You can do it. Just breathe. 
It works. You’re steadier, and you meet their watchful gazes as your eyes open.  
“You okay?” Simon murmurs, moving very slowly to the other side of the bed where you’re standing, like he’s approaching a spooked, scared, wild animal.
“Yeah. Sorry. Just… had a moment. I’m fine.” Not entirely true, but that’s alright. You feel a little unsteady, a little unnerved, and Johnny frowns.
“Ye should sit.”
“I’m fine.”
“Bunny, please. For me?” He bats his eyelashes, and you want to groan.
But you lower yourself in the chair all the same.
Quiet falls over the room. It’s awkward and stiff, and you curse yourself for ruining the moment.
“Hey.” Simon soothes, reading your mind. “Hey, you’re alright. Everything is fine.” You nod, unsettled. He squeezes your good shoulder and dips past you, leaning to press a gentle kiss to Johnny’s brow, before dotting his nose and pushing their lips together. Their kiss is long, languid touch melting away to expose their connection, trust and love on full display. Delicate and rare, their affection makes your heart flutter, pulchritudinous whispers given to one another as Simon holds Johnny’s hand, stroking a familiar pattern into his skin, something similar to the way he touches you. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine. Wish they’d let me out of this bloody bed.” Johnny grumbles. You clear your throat.
“They’re waiting on your wrist. Once your wrist can support your weight on crutches, then you’ll be able to start PT and be released.”
“Ach. I know.” He’s frustrated, it’s clear. You know it’s not easy, being here, being separated, stuck in a hospital.
“It won’t be too long.” You try to reassure him, and he nods, still a little forlorn. “Here,” you stand with a burst of confidence, knocking his arm with the back of your hand as a direction, “scooch over.”
His eyes light. Simon laughs.
You fold yourself onto the edge of the bed, turned on your side, curled along where he’s the least banged up, careful of the sensitive graft lurking beneath his hospital gown.
“There. That better?” His good arm wraps around you carefully, settling on your ribs, a thumb tracing the wrinkle of your shirt.
“Aye, much better.” Your knees are bent, and cool air ghosts over your lower back, where your shirt has ridden up and exposed your skin. You shiver.
“Cold?” Simon murmurs, and you nod. He’s close, hovering, pulling a blanket up from the end of the bed to cover both you and Johnny. He tucks it around the two of you carefully and leans forward, pulling his mask down again to brush his lips across Johnny’s brow.
You watch in a daze. They don’t speak, but there’s something happening between them, something being said in their eyes as Simon holds his face briefly, and Johnny nods.
They both look to you, your bottom lip caught between teeth.
“Want one too?” Simon hums, cupping the back of your head. “Here.” He kisses you, lingering in it, heat of his naked mouth still a shock to your system.
Johnny is beaming, and cuddles you as close as possible, cheek resting atop your forehead.
They make you dizzy. All of it feels like some kind of dream, a world impossible, a fantasy suddenly turned real life. You’re on the verge of spinning out of control inside it, losing yourself.
It doesn’t help that everything you’ve done over these last few years, this identity, this life, the work that went into hiding and planning and saving and scraping, trying to stay unseen and unnoticed-
Was all for nothing.
“Bunny?” Johnny whispers, bringing you back to them. Simon is settled in the recliner, the same one from the ICU room, but his arm is stretched past your head, fingers playing idly in Johnny’s very long mohawk.
“Sorry. I’m here.”
“Where did ye go?” He tightens his hold, and you snuggle in closer, hiding away from everything bearing down on you, the pain and the panic and the doubt. You hide your face from it, refuse to acknowledge it, desperately trying to stay in this moment, hoping to just be… be here with them. In the sun.
“Nowhere.”  
A day passes. Then another, and another, and another. Your face nearly looks normal, puffiness and swelling practically gone, and your neck aches less and less with each passing day.
Your shoulder, on the other hand, is a problem.
It never stops hurting. You struggle to get your arm through your shirts, can barely lift it, can't pick anything up, and it’s so sore, tender, and stiff, like it’s been dislocated or worse, broken. You’re worried, worried about going back to work without a full range of motion, worried about being in pain.
Worried about being even more permanently damaged than you already are.
Just another tally mark. Just another thing you must live with now, a permanent remnant of him, a forever reminder of just how foolish you really are.
You’re weak. You’re stupid. You’re damaged. 
The pain breaks you down. It prevents you from sleeping, keeps you twisting and turning through a roil of dark dreams. It depresses you, sinks its teeth into your flesh and gnaws on the pieces touched by the sun, the parts of your heart still beating, somehow.
It reminds you of everything you’re desperate to forget.
It all comes crashing down one morning. The despair. The helpless feeling brewing in your stomach. The loneliness. It keeps you there, in bed, in agony, past breakfast.
It keeps you there, until you hear the creak of the stairs, a firm knock.
“I’m coming in.” Simon advises, trying the door, cracking it enough to stick his head through.
You’re crumpled in the middle of the mattress, pillows strewn about from trying to find a comfortable position, tears already dried. Your shoulder hurts so bad, and you don’t know why, don’t know why it’s not getting better, not healing.
“Hey, sleepyhead.” He sits at your side, hand resting on your hip, inspecting the worry lines, the frown tugging at your lips. “What’s going on?” Guilt swamps you.
“It’s nothing, my shoulder just kept me up, so I’m a little tired. That’s all.” You paste on your work smile, forced and believable, but he only shakes his head.
“Don’t do that.” He thumbs your brow. “I think you should see a doctor.”
“N-no.” You can’t. He doesn’t understand. They’ll want to take x-rays. X-rays lead to questions. 
He never takes you at face value. Always pushing. Always digging, looking you over. “Why not?”
“It’s… it’s not necessary. I’m fine, it’s probably just a deep bruise.”
“You’d be experiencing less pain if that was the case.” You raise an eyebrow. He shrugs. “I know a little bit. We all have basic medic training, and I’ve been reading up, for when Johnny gets home.” He pats your hip. “Let’s make you an appointment.” You shake your head.
“No!” It’s too sharp, too insistent, and he freezes. You wince. “I’m sorry. It’s just-“
“You can’t go to a doctor.” He finishes, like he knows. “Tell me why, sweetheart.” You take a shaky breath.
You can’t. You shouldn’t. 
Sunlight taps against the iron that’s encrusted around your heart. It knocks, wanting to be let in. It searches for weakness, places of opportunity, slivers of space where it can find its way.
Your mouth starts moving before you give it permission, like it knows this is where you’re headed, no matter how hard you fight, no matter how deeply the survivor’s logic is ingrained in your brain.
“It… it’s not safe.”
“It creates a trail.” He surmises, and you nod. For a wild moment, you wonder if he’s a plant. If they’re a trap, designed to get you to lower your guard, fabricated to encourage you to trust, to love, just so the jaws of Philip’s cruelty can close around you at the most opportune moment.
They wouldn’t. They’re not. You’re being ridiculous. You’re paranoid. 
“We’ll make it under my name. Our primary is service member focused, and very discreet. You’ll be safe.” He makes it hard to argue, even though you want to. You should.
“I- I don’t know.”
“I can’t stand to see you in pain like this.” He rebukes, and then smiles softly, eyes lighting up. “Besides, I’m going to need your help. Johnny’s coming home on Friday.”
“He is?” You push upward. “Really?”
“Really.” He’s beaming, radiant sunshine spilling from his lips, and it makes you emotional, seeing him so happy, so weightless. “He passed a strength test on his wrist this morning. He needs a few days of PT in hospital, and then he can do it outpatient. His care team has signed off, and he’s ready.”
“Oh my god, that’s great!”
“It is. But I want both of you on the mend, not just one. Please.” It doesn’t take much more for you to concede, unable to find an excuse or a good enough reason, one he’s not able to combat.
“Alright, I guess.”
“Simon. Good to see you.” The doctor extends his hand and Simon shakes it readily, keeping his body positioned between you and the physician, one hand still on your knee.
He’s had a hand on you for the last half hour. You’ve been rattling on the exam table, shifting and fretful, disquieted energy spilling forth since he coaxed you into the car this morning.
“Dr. Fitch.”
“This is my patient?” He motions to you, and Simon stands to the side, concentrating, eyes focused above the mask. You give your name, and the provider repeats it with a warm smile.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Fitch.” You raise your good arm to shake his hand, and he pulls the rolling stool underneath him, taking a seat opposite Simon at your knee.
A warm palm flexes at your lower back. It’s soothing, comforting.  
I’m here, it says. You’re safe.
“Simon says you’ve been having some shoulder pain?”
“Yeah, I had… I had an injury. Thought there was some soft tissue damage, maybe some minor bruising, but the pain is too persistent.”
“Mind if I take a look?” He points to the side you’re clearly favoring.
“Sure.” It’s not comfortable, to have another man’s hands on you outside of your job. There’s no trust there, no familiarity like there is with Simon and Johnny, and your body knows it, practically vibrating as he walks his fingers up your scapula. Simon stays close, still with a hand at your back, watching intently.
Dr Fitch holds your elbow, and slowly lifts your arm until you’re telling him to stop, pins and needles radiating through your shoulder and up your neck.
“I think we need an x-ray so we can really see what’s going on.” Your fingers curl, nails digging into your palm. 
Fuck.  
“I… I think I just need a sling, or an immobilizer for a few weeks. Give it some time to heal.” You try to protest, but he shakes his head.
“I can’t be sure of any of that, without an x-ray.” Oh god. You think you might throw up.
He’s right, though. You know he’s right. You know no good provider in their right mind would sign off on a treatment plan without knowing the extent of an injury. He’s not going to let you dictate what you need.
“Bun.” Simon murmurs, and you blow out a rough breath.
“Okay, fine.”
Dr. Fitch is grim when he reappears almost an hour later, throwing the films up for both you and Simon to see.
You spot what’s soured him immediately, and there’s a sharp intake of breath behind you, the tell-tale sign of Simon noticing it too.
“This side of your body has seen a lot of trauma.” The doctor says gently. He’s not unkind, but still clinical. The kind of provider you’d like you work with, you think. “These old injuries, your clavicle, acromion, even this break in your ulna, make your scapula a very delicate part of your body. I think an MRI would show a fair amount of cartilage damage in these areas.” He motions around your joint, and you close your eyes.
You can’t do this. 
If Dr. Fitch sees your unease or panic, he pushes past it. “You have a rotator cuff tear. The good news is, it’s not surgical. I recommend physical therapy for injuries like these, along with activity modification and lots of rest. I want to do a corticosteroid injection for your pain as well. Today, if you’d like. You’ll need to rest your arm for twenty-four hours afterwards, make sure you’re not lifting anything or moving it…” He continues, but you lose track, lose focus, staring at the vinyl tile, weird grey and pink and green patterns all worked together to make some of the ugliest floor you’ve ever seen.
You zone out. Lose yourself. The films mock you, their ugly, horrific images hanging you out to dry, showcasing the truth, the reminders you’ll never be able to escape.
The pieces of you, changed permanently.
It’s hard to look at. Hard to think of.
You’d rather be considering survival. Counting your cash and researching new places to live. New communities to disappear inside, a new life to assume.
It’s easier to run.
You can’t look at Simon. Can't bear the shame. Can't believe he's seeing this, your nightmares on display. 
You keep your eyes fixed on the wall.
The girl in the mirror is falling apart. She despises being confronted with your failings, your weakness, the results of your stupidity.
It’s far less common now, these mistakes. These slip ups.
But before… before… they indulged Philip in a beautiful game of cat and mouse. You made it fun, made it exciting. A wolf with his prey. Playing with his food before he eats. Before he strings it up and breaks its collarbone because he likes to hear it scream.
Simon is talking to the provider, asking questions, receiving answers. You can barely hear him. You’re underwater.
The only thing that tethers you to the earth is the hand on your back, the warm, gentle, broad, grounding pressure.
There’s more conversation, and then Dr. Fitch is vacating the room.
Is it time to go? 
You try to stand on autopilot, but Simon holds you steady.
“We’re going to do the steroid, for your pain.” He drifts into your line of sight, pulling the mask down. “Bunny, look at me.”
When you can’t, he follows your gaze.
The films come off the wall within the next second, ripped down by the long reach of his arm.
Gone. 
“I have to go.” You whisper.
“You’re not going anywhere. You’re going to get this injection, and then I’m going to take you home and put you to bed.”
He doesn’t understand your meaning. 
Or maybe he does. 
Home. The word rings in your ears like a punch. It’s like you’ve been hit with it, burned with it.
Home. 
He’s not forceful, but you still feel the pressure, the insistence. You expect to rail against him. To cower.
Instead, you slip inside it. Allow him to tell you what to do, to make the decision. You fall easily into him, and he holds your hand through it all, while the injection site is swabbed, when the needle goes in. He holds your hand out to the car, holds your hand as he buckles you in. He holds your hand as he tucks you into a bed larger and softer than the one you've been sleeping in. It smells like him and Johnny, soft sheets and pillows piled around you like a wall, false sense of security building every time you twitch, testing where is he is, if he’s left yet.
The last thing you feel before you drift off to sleep is your hand, still in his.
You don't know how long you sleep. You sail in the darkness, navigating turbulent seas, waking every now and then, sometimes alone... sometimes not. 
The baby monitor blinks pale green, little circle fuzzy on the edge of your vision, appearing and disappearing throughout the day. 
Sometimes the bed is warm. Sometimes it's not. 
When it is, you seek him out on instinct, trying to crawl inside his ribs, frantic with your effort to hide, to run. He holds you through it, rocks you gently, tells you you're safe, says you don't have to be afraid anymore, he's here now. He'll take care of you. 
There's a rope around your ankle, tied too tight, tethered to the ocean floor. It drags you down, rips you away from him, fills your lungs and silences you. 
You didn't make it. 
All you can see behind closed lids is those films. All you can feel is the phantom ache in your limbs, the remnants of a shadow, still living and breathing inside of you. 
The girl in the mirror is silent. Nothing to say for once in her life, she weeps like her chest is being carved open, sobs and screams pouring out in a flood. 
I know you'll be here when I get back, won't you?
The house is vibrant today.
Lou has been here, stocking the fridge, precooking some meals, and her husband is helping Simon rearrange the living room, moving pieces of the couch to be more accessible, laughing back and forth quietly. Occasionally, he stops into the kitchen where you’re seated next to Pen in her highchair, checking in, but never encroaching.
He doesn’t get too close, right now. You’re still underwater somewhere, lost in a current. You’re here, but not really, silently drifting like a ghost, watching and waiting for something or someone to shake you out of it.
Simon hasn’t yet, but he’s watching. Always.
He’s intentionally careful, loud. Announcing himself everywhere he goes in the house, telling you everything he’s doing.
You didn’t understand why at first. Didn’t realize you hadn’t spoken in eight hours, and then ten, then twelve.
Trapped in a tomb of yourself, locked away with the girl in the mirror.
Guilt burns like a wildfire.
This should be a happy time. A wonderful time. 
But all you’re doing is making a mess of their life.  
Lou, thankfully, doesn’t push you either. She’s content to let you sit there, next to Pen. She keeps an eye out, glancing over at you occasionally, but your placating smiles seem to satisfy her.
Simon steps in front of the counter, ducking his head down to catch your eyes. “I’m going to pick Johnny up.” Somewhere, in the pits of hell, excitement blooms. Happiness tries to sprout. “Do you want to come?” Definitely not. They’ll certainly clap him out, and there’s no way you can be there for that. 
“No, I’m… okay.”
“Okay. Penny is coming with me, but John and Lou are staying here. Kyle is coming by. If Johnny’s feeling up to it, I’m hoping to do dinner all together.” Acid is tossed around, tempestuous in your stomach. Lou smiles around his side.
“Want to watch something while we wait?”
“Sure.” She disappears down the hall, saying something to John, and Simon slowly pulls Pen from her chair, kissing her cheek and nose before cradling her to his chest. She’s not a small baby, but in his hold, she’s tiny, soft and delicate, content in her dad’s arms, still a little sleepy from her afternoon nap. 
“We’ll be back soon.” He whispers, turning to go.
Your hand whips forward instinctively, out of control.
It latches onto his.
“Simon. I’m… I’m sorry.” You’re sorry you’re ruining everything. You’re sorry you’re fucked up beyond belief, you’re sorry he had to see all that in the doctor’s office, you’re sorry, you’re sorry, you’re sorry. 
He squeezes. “Shhh, hey. There’s nothing to be sorry about.” He shifts, still holding Penny, but stooping down to crouch at your knees, his own popping with effort. “It’s okay, if you have to go somewhere else for a little while up there, as long as you're not lost in it.” He motions to your head. “Nothing has changed. We’re still right here, everything is alright. Huh, Penny girl?” He bounces her, and she shrieks out a giggle, reaching for his face. He kisses her hands like he’s trying to eat them, rumble in his voice making her squeal, and he catches your faint smile. “There she is.” He kisses your forehead. “We’ll be back soon, okay?”
“Okay.”
You hear Johnny before you see him.
There’s a scrape of crutches, his voice animated, talking to his baby, Penny giggling wildly outside on the walk. Lou and John exchange a comfortable smile, and she manages to get the door open before Simon can get his key in the lock.
“Welcome home!” She exclaims, and Penny squeaks, clapping excitedly. She’s wriggly, wanting to get down immediately upon crossing the threshold, but Simon holds her firm, turned around so Lou can snap their picture.
“Ach, Price, can ye do somethin’-“ Johnny laments, but the captain only laughs and looks on.
“Hey! Come on, you’ll want this, later. I promise. Look over here.” They’re picture perfect, Penny cradled between them, Johnny’s hair moved out of his face, his posture a little slouched because of his hip and leg. His head rests on Simon’s shoulder, an arm stretched across his middle, right under Penny, who glows from her perch, the center of attention.
An ache unfurls in the middle of your chest, a sore spot, growing, spreading through your body.
They’re so lovely, it hurts. This moment is beautiful, a homecoming, a story of survival and perseverance. Johnny’s strength and determination. Doing something you know a lot of people initially doubted.  
The dark spot of pain passes, fleeting.
Johnny’s eyes find yours. “Ye goin’ make me hobble all the way over there?” He teases, and you shake your head.
The two of you can only give half hugs, but you make it work, holding onto him, fingers fisted in the back of his shirt.
“Welcome home.” You whisper in his ear, and he pulls away, notching his forehead against yours. His eyes glitter, heavy, trembling breath filtering through his nose, and he kisses you slowly, so painfully slowly it’s like you’re the only one in the entire house, in the whole world.
“You too, bunny.”
Dinner is lively. Kyle arrives shortly before it’s time to sit down, greetings and warm wishes passed around as everyone gets settled, Penny positioned in highchair between the guys with mashed potatoes and peas already scooped onto her tray. Johnny’s on your left, with Lou on your right, and Simon sits at the head of the table, across from who you realize now, is his old, or kind of still, boss. 
He looks perfect there, half turned towards Pen and Johnny, radiantly smiling at his partner and daughter, trying again and again to catch your eye. Johnny's knee stays steady against yours, fingertips occasionally brushing your thigh, and the two of them try to draw you in, pull you towards them, over and over. 
Conversation flows easily. They’re all talking, laughing, swapping stories, poking at one another. Kyle tells you about a time he fell out of a helicopter, and they all tease Johnny about nearly dying this time, or a different time, you can’t be too sure.
“Ye jus’ wish ye had the natural ability I do.” He sniffs, and Kyle chortles, struggling to swallow his food.
“I’d probably be dead, mate.”
“’Cause ye cannae handle it!” He retorts, and Simon laughs, causing Penny to giggle too, and then the entire table erupts in it, attention redirected, cooing at the adorable girl with mashed potatoes smeared on her face. Johnny and Simon fuss over her, a perfect family in unison. 
There’s a whining, buzzing noise in the back of your head. It’s an off-key tenor, annoying and coarse, like the snag of rough skin texture against a soft sweater.
What are you doing here? 
The world, this room, these people, spin and spiral around you. Talking, laughing, loving. Making connections with each other, feeling the warmth of love and friendship, of happiness.
The buzzing gets louder.
You’re vaguely in it now, still seated but not here, not anywhere. You’re drifting, falling away, slipping behind walls and layers, hiding.
The girl in the mirror approves.
What makes you think you have any right to be here? What makes you think you could ever possibly belong here? With them? With their friends? Their family? 
You’re an intruder. 
You’re risking their safety. You’re making a mistake. 
Lou boasts a sharp laugh, and you nearly flinch.
You don’t belong here. You’re supposed to be alone. It was supposed to be okay, to be alone.
You’re selfish.
Simon reaches for Johnny’s hand, stretching across Penny’s spot, eyes heavy with love. There’s so much in his expression alone, dedication, devotion, borderline obsession bleeding through, and he holds Johnny like he’s holding his lifeline.
You’ll never be loved like that, known like that, cherished and protected… like that. 
And why should you be? 
You’re standing before you announce it, trying to hold yourself together. Both guys look to you, Simon’s expression changing from amusement and love to worry and concern, while Johnny mirrors it, and tries to grab your hand.
“Ye alright?”
“Bun?”
“I’m fine, just… uh. My stomach.” You lie, motioning away from the table, like it makes any sense. You excuse yourself quickly, apologizing, and practically run up the stairs.
The guest bathroom door locks, and you slide down against the tub, slumping over to rest your cheek on cold tile. “Fuck.” You whisper, rubbing at your cheeks. What is wrong with you?
You lay there long enough that your shoulder starts to hurt. Everything aches, your heart too, and wipe your cheeks over and over, trying to regain control of a sinking ship.
God, you really, really hope they aren’t mad you bailed. 
The bed is your only option, your only salvation, and you sink into without fuss, burying yourself beneath a pile of blankets, hiding yourself away from the world.
At least when you sleep, you can’t think.
At least when you sleep, you can’t feel.
“Philip, please.” 
“You made a fucking fool of me tonight.” He grips your upper arm so tight it feels like he’s cutting into your flesh, branding you, burning you down to the bone. 
“No, I- I wasn’t trying to, I swear.” 
“I think you were, spitfire. I think you wanted to see me sweat, didn’t you? Wanted to play a little game, huh?” 
“No!” you’re crying, chest heaving with giant sobs, and his fist tightens in your hair, dragging you down to the ground. “No, Philip, stop. Stop!” 
“Shut up.” You’re crawling on your knees, trying to keep pace, trying to stay in stride with him as he tugs, practically pulling you down the hallway to the bedroom. 
Once he gets there, he jerks you upwards. 
The hardwood floor is the next thing you see as your face crashes into it. 
“S-stop.” You’re barely audible, buried in sobs. He mocks you. 
“Stoooop, babe. Stop please.” Your arms cover your head, trying to protect your delicate bones there, your skull, your nose, your cheeks. 
His foot rears back. 
The world goes cold. 
“NO!” you jerk your knees up to your chest, rolling away. “No! I’m pregnant!” 
You think he’ll be happy. You think he’ll be pleased. 
Instead, it’s raw, concentrated fury you see lining his face, lightning and thunder gathering in his eyes. 
“You’re what?”
You come to trembling, coated in a cold sweat.
It’s okay. He’s not here. He’s not. You’re safe. 
You clasp a hand over your mouth to ward off the volume of the sob, nausea rising until you’re almost gagging.
It’s okay. 
You can do this. Get it together. 
Time ticks away, but the agony of your memory, your nightmare, doesn’t fade. It settles in your bones like a sickness, infecting your mind and heart, keeping you from closing your eyes.
You can’t go back there. Not in real life. Not in your dreams. Not ever.
You would die before that happened.
Johnny and Simon sleep down the hall. You wonder if they’re wrapped up together, if Johnny is comfortable, if their room is cozy and homey, bed heavenly and full of love.
You could… 
No. 
The clock on your phone reads three in the morning. You feel like you haven’t slept at all, but every time you try to close your eyes, dread spreads, tenebrous and sticky, clinging to every synapse in your logical brain.
You eye the door.
You could… 
Should you? Would they be mad? Would they welcome you? Would they even answer?
You don’t know how you convince yourself to do it, to drag your weak will down the hall and knock on their door, but you do. You’re a child the whole way, padding up to a parent’s room in the middle of the night, looking for salvation and sanctuary, desperate for comfort.
It takes almost no time after your timid little rap for the door to swing wide, Simon standing behind it, little lamp flicked on where Johnny is half sitting up, mostly still asleep, rubbing his eyes.
“Hi.” You whisper, distracted by Simon’s naked chest. He’s wearing sweatpants, but they’re slung low on his hips, soft tummy with wispy light brown hair peeking out above the drawstring. You think you’re staring, and you force a blink, trying to appear normal.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“N-nothing, I just… I had a nightmare and…I… I can’t…” the rest doesn’t come out, laying heavy on your tongue, trying to organize itself so it doesn’t seem so intrusive, or weak.
He doesn’t make you feel bad. Or guilty. He doesn’t even ask, he just steps aside, motioning to bed, clicking the door shut behind him.
“Take the middle.” He whispers, and you crawl across the expanse, timidly smiling at Johnny, who’s still yawning. He’s got his bad leg and hip set up on a bunch of pillows, and the spot next to him is still warm.
“Hey pretty girl.”
“Hi.” He pats the empty space, shoving the blankets down to the best of his ability to let you get underneath them.
“Bad dream?” He drawls, slow and sleepy.
“Yeah.”
“C’mere.” He tries to tug you closer, but Simon scolds him softly.
“Johnny, easy. Your graft.” He turns, sliding, encouraging you to settle on your side, with him at your back. “There we go. That’s better, hm?” It is better. So much better. Warm and safe. Blocked in on either side by them, your hand resting on Johnny’s sternum, grounding yourself with the rise and fall of his breathing, Simon nestling you into his chest, heavy arm slung across your ribs to hold Johnny’s hand.
It's so nice, tucked between them like you belong there, things start to spiral a little bit, doubt and worry fueling a cycle of second guessing. You shift restlessly, and Simon rubs your hip, soothing whatever he senses amiss back to neutral, lips humming just above your ear. “Close your eyes, little bunny. We’re here. You’re safe.”
1K notes · View notes