#be so serious. like be real with me right now.

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch2. you may now kiss the bride!!

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, n have been taking care of your sick mom ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, mild love triangle(s), gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity; btw gojo in this fic is in his early 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 2/x (probably 10)

ᰔ words. 16.8k (i be yappin)

a/n. AHHH thanks very much for 2k followers!! yippeee :”) i had a lot of fun writing this chapter of ihm i feel like there’s a lot of silly but a lot of angsty too and i got to set up a lot of secondary plot lines in this chapter which was fun. i really hope you enjoy!! see ya at the bottom!!

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 (pending)

“Can you chop down that stupid avocado tree of yours already? It keeps dropping its devilish spawn all over my herb garden.”

“Wow. Good afternoon to you too.”

Gojo scratches the back of his head from where he’s opened the front door of his house, standing in his pajamas and you briefly glance down at his bunny slippers before looking back up at him with a ridiculing face before pushing past him into his house.

Gojo’s house is almost the exact mirror of yours, as are most houses in the neighborhood, but it’s been a while since you’ve been inside of it and so you take an indulgent look. A cozy family room to the side, which you see he’s decorated with a coffee table and a loveseat, and the staircase is visible from the entrance. A modest dining table sits where the carpet turns into wood, and you’ve noticed he’s made the effort to place real hardwood on his floors contrary to the laminate in yours. Ok, show off. Your eyes take in the paintings on the wall, and you remember how his house almost looks fake, like in the way he sets up props in open houses he’s showing for clients, as if someone lives here and yet somehow there’s no real living proof of it.

And because it’s pretty much the exact same layout as your house, you know exactly where the pantry room is, and you grab a bunch of Doritos and Pocky from his secret snack drawer.

“Oh yes, go right ahead. Please,” he says sarcastically as he leans against a support pillar near the dining room and watches you stuff your face with his snacks.

“So,” you say, muffled, “did you grab the paperwork?”

“No, I didn’t.” He glances at his watch. “My friend’s a family law lawyer, and he’s gonna be here soon to help us out with the prenup.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh my god, you’re being serious about the prenup? You really think I’m trying to gold dig at the cobwebs of your bank account? How little self respect do you think I have?”

“...do you really want me to answer that questi–”

The doorbell ringing startles you, and you quickly wipe at your face to clear any crumbs before setting the wrappers in your hands onto a bookshelf as you watch Gojo head to the door and open it.

You hear another distinct masculine voice ring in the air as Gojo exchanges pleasantries with him in the form of a handshake and a familiar hug with a few pats on the back, and then the angle Gojo twists his body reveals the man standing outside the door. He’s a bit shorter than Gojo with a lean build, clad in a fiercely formal black suit and tie with polished shoes. His hair is well-kept, short and raven black, and his eyes are sunken with what you can only imagine is fatigue. And it’s kinda hot to you, unfortunately, after years of working the night shift, you’re starting to find dark circles under people’s eyes to be extremely attractive.

“Uh, y/n, this is my friend, Higurama. Hiromi Higurama,” Gojo says, gesturing between the two of you,  “and Hiromi, this is y/n. My obnoxious neighbor. Careful though, if you get too close she’ll bite off your fingers.”

“I’ll bite off a different appendage of yours if you don’t shut the fuck up,” you snarl at him, and Higurama takes a step inside the house to greet you with an outstretched hand. 

“Hi, it’s lovely to meet you,” he says, and you’re a little startled by the politeness, but aptly shake his hand and nod before squawking out a likewise!!

You look past Higurama at Gojo who’s got an eyebrow raised at you, and then your eyes are on Higurama again as you watch him set his briefcase down on the dining table. “Are we ready to discuss?” he asks, brown eyes darting between the two of you. You nod and take a seat across from him, and Gojo first grabs everyone some glasses of water before he takes a seat at the head.

“So,” Higurama starts, “I take it you two are madly in love and would like to enter a marital agreement to declare your affections for one another in the court of law under just circumstances?”

You blink at him. “Y-Yes. Very just circumstances. Nothing shady going on here, we are indeed very madly in love and would like to get married.”

“Why the fuck would you say it like that?” Gojo chirps in but not before sighing. 

“T-The way he asked was really nerve wracking!!” you counter. And then your eyes widen when you look at Higurama again, who has a slightly amused tug to his lips. “...oh, you already know this marriage is a fraud.”

“I was just testing you,” he casually says, “in case they mention any suspicions in court. Seems you should just let Satoru do the talking.”

You pout a little and sink further into your seat, then bring the glass of water up to your lips. 

“Well, in any case,” Higurama says, and then he goes on into the details of what to expect in the courtroom. He pulls out paperwork for the marriage license application and starts to walk the two of you through the prenuptial agreement. 

“It’s my understanding you’re both desiring a prenup for this marriage?” Hugurama asks, brow furrowed slightly as he rustles through the endless papers in front of him that he was drowning in.

You briefly glance at Gojo, who’s also looking through all the papers with a concentrated look on his face, his features tense and he’s slightly worrying his bottom lip through his teeth. He’s thinking way harder about this whole prenup thing than you would, and you realize he’s genuinely taking this very seriously. 

“Um, yes,” you acquiesce, suddenly feeling a little guilty. And you remember who’s the one in need of the favor here. “I’m okay with the prenup.”

Higurama tells you two about the implications of the prenup, what can and cannot be included under state laws, and stresses the importance of full financial disclosure and fairness in the agreement to ensure its enforceability in the event of a divorce. Basically, don’t fucking lie about anything or else you two could sue each other to hell for it should divorce occur. You both agree, and you’re feeling sick to your stomach with anticipation. 

“Alright,” Higurama interjects your thoughts, “I will begin to draft the document then. Let’s start with assets.”

Gojo drones on about his tangibles, intangibles, cash equivalents, stocks, yada yada and you open up with yours too, but you can barely hear anything you’re saying and you can hardly hear what anyone else is saying either because you’re just dreadfully awaiting for Higurama to finally bring up—

“How about debts?” he asks, mindlessly as he types away on his laptop, as if the question doesn’t make you want to throw up. 

Your breathing picks up in speed, and you’re nervously fidgeting your hands over the surface of the table. You glance over at Gojo again, this time startled to find his eyes are on you too. His gaze briefly flickers to the shuffling of your fingers, then it meets yours again as he tilts his head slightly in a silent ask of you good?

“Uh–” you start, when you feel Higurama’s eyes on you too now that the silence has stretched on for too long, “I’m…well, I’m in a bit of…debt. From nursing school, a little bit from undergrad still, actually…”

“Okay,” Higurama says, “how much would you approximate? I’ll need the official loan statements soon, though.”

“Well, I’m paying off slowly…but last month I have around seventy-thousand still to pay off.”

“Alright,” Higurama accepts, “and you, Satoru? Student loans?”

“Oh, I don’t have any,” he says, “I paid them off a while ago.”

You feel like you’re being opened apart at the seams, and suddenly feel ashamed.

“Alright, what about other debts? Credit card debts? Any loans to know about?”

You figured you just needed to rip the bandaid off.

“Um,” you say, “I’m about three hundred thousand dollars in medical debt from my mother’s treatment loans.”

The room goes quiet, there’s no more rustling of papers or the mechanical jumping of keys on a keyboard, hell, even the birds outside stopped chirping to display their disbelief. 

“Wha–” Gojo starts, like he can’t help it, before he catches himself out of politeness, but he’s still looking at you with concern and shock. “y/n…what happened?”

You look over at Higurama too, and he’s completely turned away from the document he was drafting on his laptop, full attention on you, and his brow is creased with the same amount of concern. And you feel like you’re in therapy. You also feel like you’re about to cry.

“Well…it’s just,” you start, throat feeling raw, “my mom couldn’t qualify for medical loans because of years of poor credit, and insufficient income, and her cancer treatments became really costly, and so–” you suck a breath in, because your voice cracks slightly at the end. You were not about to cry in front of them right now. “And so I decided to cosign on her loans so she could receive treatment, and stuff kept coming up, and I had to work reduced hours for a couple of years when she was first diagnosed, and…some payments got away from me, and so then…there was interest, and…it’s…I guess over five years, things just…accumulated.”

They both sit there in stunned silence, shifting uncomfortably in their seats, like they understand your situation is so fucked in its entirety that they can barely even bear to put themselves through the trouble of even imagining themselves in your shoes, let alone fathom that you’re living in them.

Higurama clears his throat and redirects his attention to the computer. “That’s… no problem for the prenup. Thank you for being honest.”

“Hey,” Gojo interjects, and his hand reaches out to lay over your fidgeting hands over the table. His eyes are serious. “Why didn’t you–” he starts, and his face softens slightly when you can’t help the small sheen of tears that reaches your eyes, “...why didn’t you say anything about this? I mean, anytime we’ve talked.”

It’s your turn to look at him with a tense expression, and you slowly withdraw your hands from the hold of his palm to place them in your lap under the table. “Uh, why would I share about my financial woes to my neighbor? Don’t most people just act like shit’s normal with their neighbors?”

“I guess, but I didn’t know it was that ba–”

Higurama’s phone starts to ring, and he glances at the Caller ID before sighing slightly. “Sorry, I have another client I need to see soon. We’ll have to wrap this up, but I’ll continue drafting this document. Please send me your relevant statements for any loans and–” he glances at you, “...associated debts.” He starts to gather his things at the table, then neatly tucks his papers into his briefcase before placing his laptop in there too. He reaches to shake Gojo’s hand first, then shakes yours, and holds onto your hand a second longer to gather your attention. His eyes are almost solemn.

“I truly hope your mother gets better soon,” he says to you, tone contrite. 

You slowly nod and thank him, and then Gojo goes to see him out the door.

The house feels quiet when Gojo closes the front entrance, and he stays facing the door for a few seconds before slowly turning around to face you, back leaning against it as he crosses his arms in front of his chest, and just when he opens his mouth to speak, you cut him off.

“I really–” you say, “...I really don’t want to talk about it.”

His face contorts into confusion, and it looks like he’s about to protest, but you allow yourself to show the slightest amount of the hurt and the worry on your face, and he realizes that means he shouldn’t try to push it.

“Okay,” he says, and quietly. 

Things are awkward in the air for a second, so you waltz over to the window and watch through it as Higurama gets into his car, some type of sleek old black Mercedes Benz but it’s polished to perfection, and you let out a content sigh.

“What?” Gojo asks you, tone a little short. 

“Ohhh, nothing,” you say, bringing your hands up to cup your cheeks to feel their warmth as you take in the image of Higurama’s slender legs in his business attire, “I just…” you sigh again, “I just loooove men in suits. I wish I knew more men that wore them often.”

A beat of silence. “Um. I wear them often?”

You turn on your heel to face him. “Yeah, but you wear them in, like, a slutty way. Higurama,” you say, pointing with your thumb facing the window, “wears them in the actually respectable workplace way. Hence why it’s hotter on him.”

He scoffs. “And yet you’re always staring at my ass from afar when I’m wearing my tailored trousers.” 

“I seriously wonder what it’s like to be so fucking delusional all the time,” you shake your head at him and he looks like he’s got a comeback on his tongue but you sshhhhhhhh him and walk back into the heart of the house. You look over your shoulder briefly, and see Gojo’s standing where you were standing at the window a few seconds ago, looking out onto the street, and he’s grumbling something under his breath you can’t quite hear. And then you hear the sound of Higurama’s car driving away. 

You circle around the dining table, and take a seat to look through the marriage paperwork Higurama left behind for the two of you to fill out.

“Bring the paperwork over to the kitchen island,” you hear Gojo say as he makes his way to the kitchen, “I’ll fix us some coffee.”

The island has a seated side to it with bar stools that raise high and turn in fully 360 degree fashion, so you swirl around in your seat to make yourself dizzy while Gojo brews some coffee with his espresso machine. 

“Mm…smells nice,” you comment, still swirling.

“Milk? Sugar?” he asks you, and you stop swirling to answer him.

It’s not the first time you’ve been to Gojo’s house. When he first moved in next door, you brought him a plate of cookies as a welcome to the neighborhood! gift and he had invited you inside and fixed you a cup of coffee then too. The house was mostly empty back then, he’s made a lot of good work in filling it with furniture in that sort of IKEA catalog fashion, and you can clown on him for it all you want, but it still looks nicer than most homes you’ve been in. Anyways, you only visited him in his house a couple times after that before you realized you hated him. Because he blasts loud music at the most random times, which you’re convinced he’s just trying to show off the sound system he probably spent an unnecessary amount of money on, not to mention an unnecessary amount of time installing. He also always forgets to mow his fucking lawn, and it drives you nuts because then the weeds spread over into your lawn, but it’s not like it matters because you hardly mow yours either, but still. And that fucking boat. That fucking boat he keeps right at the edge of your driveway that taunts you and your ability to pull into garages after every single one of your dreadful night shifts. One of these days, you might just steal it and drive it into the ocean so it drowns. Wait, boats don’t drown. That’s the point of boats. They’re buoyant. It’s okay, you’ll find another way to get rid of it. The boat, you mean. 

“Here you go,” he says, sliding a cup of coffee to you across the island. You peer inside at the brown liquid, and the scent alone awakens your senses.

“So, logistics,” you say.

“Logistics,” he repeats after you as he stirs a spoon in his mug. 

“We need to make this believable,” you say to him, “otherwise the marriage could be invalidated, and we could face criminal charges, and I could lose the insurance benefits for my mom, and potentially get sued by said insurance companies, and get thrown into jail for life, and—”

“And how much sleep have you lost thinking about this?” he asks you with a sigh as he brings his mug up to take a sip. 

“I’m being serious, Satoru,” you say to him, “I…would just rather err on the side of caution. It’s a small town, people talk. And sometimes those people know the law.” You shudder.

“Who the fuck is out there that would be so pissed about us getting married just so you can help out your sick mom?” he asks.

Your eyes flicker downwards slightly in consideration. You can think of one person, at least. And when you look up at him, you’re surprised to see there’s a similar look on his face, as if he could think of a particular one person too. But before you can dwell more on the expression on his face, he grabs the paperwork in front of you and looks through some of it. “You should get started on your paperwork. Higurama filled most of mine out for me already, so you’re the one he’s waiting on.”

You groan and stretch your arm out across the island counter, then lay your head on your upper arm. “Sigh, why couldn’t he have done that for meee tooooo.”

“Probably because he doesn’t know you?” Gojo snorts. He’s silent for a moment as he takes another sip. You can’t see his face. “So,” he starts, “I mean. If we’re going to make this believable, which, to be honest, I don’t think a single person in this neighborhood would find us getting married believable, but still, if we were to try making it believable, wouldn’t it make sense for us to, uh, I don’t know, live together? Like what regular married couples do.”

“I am appalled you would even suggest that.”

“It’s going to look like we’re just faking it if we don’t at least cohabitate together,” he tells you.

“We can’t do that,” you sigh, “I bet you’d try to touch me inappropriately.”

“What???” 

“Yeahhh, I don’t know, you just—...you just seem like a guy with very little self control.”

“...y’know what? This is over. I’m calling off this engagement,” he says, and he walks over to the dining table with his coffee cup in hand and you lift your head up off your arm in a panic.

“Wha–...no!! Wait!!” you say, grabbing all the paperwork off the island and bringing it to the dining table where he’s taken a seat. “Please marry me. I need it so bad.”

“Woah,” he says, looking up at you, and there’s a darker glint to his eyes. “You need it so bad? Can you say that again?”

You curl up the papers in your hands into a makeshift hollow pole and whack him across the head with it. “This is exactly why I think you would touch me inappropriately.”

He grumbles slightly as he nurses the spot you whacked him with two of his fingers rubbing the area, and then he fixes his hair with a comb of his hand through it. The sleeve of his shirt drops a little from the movement, and you can see the muscles of his arm flex, then your eyes are quickly darting away so he doesn’t catch the line of your gaze on him. What the fuck. That was weird. You blame ovulation. 

“Alright, fine,” he says, and he grabs the papers out of your hand, “also don’t bend these. It bothers me.” 

You circle back to the kitchen to grab your abandoned coffee cup, and then bring it to the dining table to sit down with him at it. He places your half of the papers in front of you. You glance down at the first few boxes to fill out, and you already feel like giving up.

You glance up at him for a distraction. “Aren’t you going to ask me how long I want you to be married to me for?” you ask him.

“Uh, how long do you want me to be married to you for?”

“Forever,” you say. To scare him.

“Yeah, right.” He waves his hand in the air dismissively. 

You sulk because it didn’t scare him. “Six months.”

“More plausible.”

“Really,” you say earnestly, “six months.”

He looks up at you now, a curious expression on his face. “Why specifically six months?”

Your eyes find the color of your coffee fascinating once again. “I don’t want to put my mother in hospice for too long. I’ll miss her,” you say, “it’s just…something I’m trying out for now. And to just get a bit of a caretaking break, and also so I can pick up more shifts at the hospital to work on paying off my debt. It’s just…temporary.”

His shoulders roll back once and he sits up a little straighter, holding up one of the pieces of paper to study it better while he clicks his pen. “Alright. Whatever works for you.”

You twiddle with your hands again, blinking a little in consideration as a few moments pass by. “Uh…about living together. That’s fine. I suppose.”

His eyes widen slightly. “Really?”

“Yeah. But no touching,” you point at him with a strict finger.

He tilts his head back up to the ceiling in annoyance. There’s a roll in the muscles of his throat as his jaw goes slack. You squirm in your chair a little. Ovulation, you think. 

“I’m not going to touch you, y/n,” he assures you when his chin tips back down. You just stare at him for a few seconds as he seems to be in thought about something, and then his eyes meet yours. “Whose house are we going to live in?”

“Mine,” you say, “yours looks like a shitty catalog. It’s lame.”

“True,” he says, “yours feels homey. I like that.”

You’re a little taken aback by his words, and then purse your lips together. Your sort of go-to thanks expression reserved for him. “So, are you gonna sell your house then?”

“Huh? No way,” he shakes his head, “I’ll just see if I can rent it out for now.” He shakes his head even more. “I mean, god no, I wouldn’t be caught dead selling a house. Not with these market conditions. You know how much it’s already risen in equity within just the past few months alone? In five years from now—”

While Gojo continues to drone on about the lunacy of not holding onto property in this housing market, your eyes widen slightly at his words, like your body realizes a truth to what he’s saying before your mind does.

And then that’s when it hits you.

How you can help pull yourself out of debt.

You slam your coffee mug down on the table with a little more fierceness than you probably should’ve.

“Hey,” he scolds you, “can you be careful with that?”

“We’re not going to live in my house,” you say, ignoring him, “we’re gonna live in yours.”

“Huh?” he responds, “...but I thought you said mine looks like a catalog.”

“A shitty catalog.”

“Did you need to specify?”

“We’re not going to live in my house,” you tell him, with resolve, “because I’m gonna sell my house.”

He sits up a little straighter at your words. “Like, the house next door?”

“Mhm,” you nod.

He sighs. “Were you even listening to me? It’s so much more worth it to–”

“I don’t care,” you cut him off, “I need the money now. Not five years from now.” Your eyes glance down at your hands, and your tone becomes quiet. “I…I don’t even know if my mom has five years left to live.”

A silence settles in the room, and you see in your periphery that Gojo’s stiff and still, like he’s barely allowing himself to breathe as if you’d find it abrasive, and when you look over at him, his expression is soft.

“I know,” he says. “It sounds like a plan.”

“Will you help me sell it?” you ask him. “I’d…need a realtor.”

“Sure,” he easily agrees.

“Okay…” you say, and take a sip of lukewarm coffee, as if you haven’t just decided on an extremely major life decision. “Um. I’ll go get the paperwork then. From my house.”

“Oh. Right now?” he asks you, and he leans forward in his seat a little to get a closer look at your face. “I mean, don’t you want some time to think about it before putting it on the market? We can wait for a little bit.”

“No. That’s okay,” you say, standing up from your chair, “I’ll…go get the paperwork.”

He nods at you slowly, but his eyes are observant, and you ignore it to keep up the momentum of this decision that was definitely the right decision by all means and one that you should not be hesitating on at all as it is such an epiphany that can help clear your debilitating financial burdens. 

“Drive safe,” he says to you when you grab your purse off the coffee table in the family room.

“Ha ha. Very funny.”

The outside air is breezy, it’s a nice day with the sun shining down and sparkling off of sprinkler dew drops on overgrown grass, and you hop across with a pep in your step as you make it to your house next door. You’re always quiet when opening the door, because you never know when your mom is sleeping or not, and since her bedroom is downstairs, she’s privy to noises. Once you’re inside, you check to make sure she’s sleeping with a small creak open of her door, only to find that she’s sitting on her rocking chair and looking through a box of paintings.

Your heart twists at the sight, and you gently knock the door with your knuckles.

She glances up at you, and you can always tell from just the look in her eyes if she recognizes you or not. Because they’re warm and gentle when she does, but they see right past you to the wall when she doesn’t.

“Hello,” she says, “can I help you?”

You come up to her and kneel down beside her, placing a hand up on the rocking chair arm rest while she looks down at you.

“Hi, mom. It’s me. Your daughter,” you gentle reintroduce yourself. It’s what her neurologist suggested you do anytime she can’t remember you, but it rips away a piece of your soul each time.

Her eyes still see past you, abstract, empty with no feeling as she wraps her head around your words. “I am no one’s mother,” she tells you, tone sounding sharp and like she’s a moment away from terror.

“That’s okay,” you quickly remediate, feeling hollow inside from her words but you always had to be the sane one, so you direct her attention to the box in her lap. “What are you looking at?”

“Oh, I just found these paintings!” she exclaims. “I thought they were wonderful. Do you know who drew them?”

You smile up at her. “You did.”

“Me?” she blinks at you. The wrinkles in her forehead crumple with surprise, “oh, no, dear, I could not paint such things with detail. Look at me!” She holds her hand up. “My hand is trembling!”

She’s getting weaker. You make a mental note to bring it up to her doctor.

“You used to hold a paint brush like it was just an extension of your hand,” you tell her, picking up one of the paintings out of the box, “you were an art teacher, mom.”

“Don’t call me mom,” she says to you, that sharp tone from earlier cutting through to your soul. “I am no one’s mother.” Her eyes shimmer with a light sheen of tears.

You stare at her, brow pinching together with hurt, but you bite back the part of you that wants to beg her to remember you, to take one close look at you, and see you with warmth and not emptiness. But she sees past you all the same.

“Can you do something for me?” you whisper to her.

“Yes?” she asks.

“Could you please lay down? You need some rest.”

“Are you my nurse?” she asks.

You breathe in deep. “Yes.”

“Am I…” she glances briefly at her reflection in the vanity mirror, her eyes flitting up to the head scarf on her head that covers the absence of hair, “am I sick?”

You exhale. “Yes. You need rest.”

“Oh…” she acknowledges, “why, yes. I do feel…a little frail.”

“I know,” you comment, and you put the box down on the floor then help her up onto her feet slowly by holding onto her arm, and you guide her to sit on the bed and take her medications. She then lays down, and you nod at her reassuringly before you head out the door and close it behind you.

Your lip trembles with the threat of a sob as you stare straight forward at the wall in the dimness of the hallway. But a harsh bite to the plush of it ceases the quiver.

You make your way up the stairs to go grab that binder you had with the mortgage and house information, plus some of your recent utility bills. Except the binder is hard to locate, and you’re rummaging through the cabinets in your closet, the drawer of your nightstand, you’re even looking underneath the bed. But when you lift your head up from under it, still kneeling on the carpet, and glance at the wall, you notice something.

48’’ eight yrs. what a big girl! 

46’’ seven yrs. big jump

41’’ six yrs.

37’’ five yrs. my little princess

…

..

–all written in graphite pencil, scribbled up the wall where you would stand tall against as a kid, your mom marking your height at every birthday. And your eyes start to well with tears. 

This was your childhood home. With magical corners tucked away where you used to play hide and seek with your dad, with your old bedroom you used to play in with dolls and have tea parties with all your stuffed animals. There’s still a stain of fruit juice on the carpet underneath the rug that you never told your mom about because you knew she would be mad at you and would scrub it out, but it was in the shape of a heart and when you were a kid, you thought that meant you would find your prince charming some day. This house holds so many memories, like birthday parties and Christmas Eve and the sunflower patch in the backyard where you laid Sniffles to rest.

And it holds the familiarity of you that seems to be slipping through your mother’s fingers with each passing day, all those memories you created with her now solely yours to keep and no longer to share. But you realize at this moment that you’re not alone. This house still holds those memories with you.

Your eyes flicker to the graphite pencil marks on the wall again, and the tears flow freely.

In the moments where she cannot remember that you are her baby, this house remembers for her.

Your sleeve wipes at the dampness on your cheeks.

But it’s never enough, is it? And it’s never that easy, either. Life was never that easy, and you don’t always have the choices you might think you do.

You find the binder, and grab all the utility bills too, and head downstairs. You pass by your mother’s room with softness and sleuth, and guilt in your heart when you realize what you’ve chosen to do. There’s no pep to your step when you make it back to Gojo’s.

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

“Sooo,” Gojo says, after about twenty minutes of looking through all the house paperwork in the binder at the dining table, “your mom transferred ownership of the house to you as a gift deed when she was diagnosed?��

“Mhm,” you say.

“She paid off quite a bit of it,” he comments as he looks through banking statements, “but still not enough to pay off your medical debt, unfortunately.”

You sigh. “I know. It was never really a house she could afford anyways. She just received it from the divorce, and I remember we were supposed to downsize, but…she didn’t want to.”

“I see,” Gojo comments, “well, it’s alright, it would still help you a lot for sure. How many years are left for your solar panel lease?” He has a pen in hand and a custom realtor notepad in front of him with his messy handwriting all over it. 

“It’s new,” you say, “still got thirty years left.”

“Jeez, okay. How much per month?”

You scavenge through the bills on your table. “Ummm um um ummm…….”

“You should really…get more organized.”

“You should really mind your fucking business.” You find the bill. “$285 per month.”

“Okay,” he scribbles it down, “does it offset your electricity bill?”

Your shoulders sulk. “A little bit.”

“Yeah, it might scare some buyers away.”

You sigh. “Oh and then the HOA too.”

“HOA?” he looks up at you with a puzzled expression on his face. “We don’t have an HOA in this neighborhood.”

“We don’t?” you blink at him. “Then who have I been sending $195 dollars to every month?”

“…….....you’ve seriously gotta be some special kind of stupid.”

After panicking for five minutes while checking your credit cards for fraudulent activity, Gojo gets done cutting up an apple for you. 

“Here,” he says, sliding the plate to you, “since you look like you’re about to faint. Knowing you, it’s probably just low blood sugar.”

You dramatically sigh and sink in your chair. “I can’t believe I spent the last three years paying an HOA that doesn’t even exist…”

“Hey, on the bright side, there’s some dude out there on an exotic vacation that’s very thrilled by your idiocracy right now.”

You shoot him a look. And then you hang your head low to drink your extremely cold coffee that you were still nursing, before downing it all in one go. Your eyes catch the marriage paperwork that Gojo was reviewing earlier, and you see Higurama’s pre-filled in information that he typed onto the papers before printing them for him. 

“Hm,” you hum, “it says here that you’ve been married before. You might want to get that fixed before we submit these.”

He stands up from the table, two of his fingers hooking onto the handle of his coffee cup, and he glances into yours to make sure it’s empty, briefly flicking his eyes to you and you shake your head for no, no more coffee, thanks before he wraps his other two fingers around the handle of your mug as well. The clink of the two porcelain mugs in his hand startles you a little as he walks past you to the kitchen sink. “There’s nothing to fix about that,” he says, his tone level and easy, “it’s true. I’ve been married before.”

Your eyes widen at his confession, and you quickly twist your torso in your chair to stare at him. Or at least, the back of him as he turns the faucet on and begins to rinse out coffee mugs. 

Married? Before? There are so many questions swimming through your head right now, ones that you desperately want answers to, biggest of all perhaps being now who the fuck would actually want to marry him??? for real??? you’re telling me this self obsessed dork proposed to a real life woman with a pulse and she actually said ‘yes’ to him??? who was this woman, and which psych ward did he find her from??? 

But he’s so quiet from where he stands, broad shoulders less pushed back like they usually are, and something tells you he wouldn’t entertain any of those questions from you right now. A glance at the paperwork, though, tells you the divorce was recent. Less than a year ago. Around the time he moved in next door. 

He still has his back facing you, and you try to sneakily catch a glimpse at more info under the Wife section on the prior marriages form. You can see the paper says maiden name: Inoue and you’re just about to sneak a peak at the first name when—

“You want to stay for dinner?” he asks when he turns around, leaning back against the sink counter. “I’m ordering pizza tonight.”

You’re surprised by the sudden invitation, and shuffle the papers over one another again. “Oh–that’s…that’s okay.” You glance at the clock he has hanging on the wall. “I’ve got work in a couple of hours, so…I should really get going. Have a few errands to run before then.”

“Okay, so, we’ll…talk later?”

“Yeah, later,” you stand up from your chair, and for some reason, the air feels a little heavier to you now. “Uh…” you start, awkwardly scoffing a little, “wow. Bachelor life again, then, huh? Probably just–...probably just beer and pizza every night?”

He purses his lips together, humoring you with a small laugh that comes out as a scoff through his nostrils. “No. Not really. I only order pizza when I close a sale on a house. My way of celebrating.”

“Oh,” you respond, “I see.”

“I’ll walk you to your car,” he says.

“I live next door,” you remind him.

His eyes widen slightly. “Oh. Right.”

“H-Hope the traffic’s not too bad!” you joke.

His laugh comes more genuine now. “You’re stupid.”

You head towards the door, and when he opens it for you, there’s a chill of air outside and it’s darker now, hues of dark gray, purple and a slight orange still present on the horizon paint the sky and you step outside then turn on your heel to face him.

“Um. Congrats, by the way. On the sale,” you tell him, “enjoy your night. And I’ll see you this weekend?”

“Huh?” He raises an eyebrow. “What’s happening this weekend?”

“We–” you scoff, “we’re getting married this weekend?”

“Oh!” he exclaims, tense, “right, yes, see you this weekend. For marriage. Of us.”

You roll your eyes and make your way down the concrete pavement that leads its way to his house, and leads its way away from it too. And when you walk back to your house, it’s not with a sulk, but it’s not with a pep in your step either. You just feel…neutral.

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

“So, tell me about this fake husband of yours,” Hana says, leaning against your work-on-wheels as you attempt to catch up on charting notes with 4 hours and 15 minutes and 53 seconds left on your shift (it’s not like you were counting though).

“Yeah, in a sec,” you mumble as you punch in keys.

6/2/2024 0344: patient placed on 5150 hold on 5/31 at 1745, continually monitored by ED tech. all objects have been removed from pt’s room to prevent any danger to self or others. however patient accessed hand sanitizer dispenser on the wall at roughly 0320 and ingested all the hand sanitizer. notified MD of toxic ingestion, follow up plan is to coordinate care with poison control. no further orders at this time

“Okay, what were you saying?” you look up at Hana again and rub the tired out of your eye with a balled up hand, along with all the mascara. 

“Your fake husband!! Tell me about him!!” she chirps, shaking your work-on-wheels in excitement and the blur of your computer screen makes you feel dizzy.

“Shhhhh,” you hiss at her, “keep your voice down when we discuss illegal activities.”

She rolls her eyes. “Why are you always so paranoid? I’m already sick and tired of you charting incessantly every five seconds to save yourself from medical lawsuits that you haven’t even been accused of.”

“In a medical lawsuit, the chart is the law, Hana,” you say eerily with a shiver, and her words remind you to continue your detailed charting. “Never forget that.”

She sighs. Her gaze travels across to the other end of the emergency department, and you assume she’s staring at the asses of the EMT boys again, so you glance over your shoulder too. 

Except instead, you see the worst person on the planet.

Well, second worst as of right now.

The worst person title was reserved for someone else.

Approaching from down the hall is Yuna, your ex-best friend, a bounce in her step as she walks with a sort of allure as her hips rock side to side, her mile-high ponytail swaying in beat with the rhythm as well, and the ashy blond highlights in her hair hypnotize anyone she waltzes by. 

She was the kind of nurse that all the other nurses are jealous of. Always has cute little accessories and stickers on their badge, is wearing the fancy FIGS scrub sets that hug her sporty curves in all the right places, paired with those little shoes with the ankle socks, and she most definitely gets her water goal in for the day because she’s always sucking on the straw of her periwinkle Stanley cup around the ED all night just like she sucked the cum out of your boyfriend of seven years just twenty-four hours after the two of you had broken up–

“y/n,” she casually calls your name, leaning her elbow up on the cubicle divider of the nursing station. “It’s time for you to take your break. I’ll watch your patients.”

“I’m not taking my break,” you say, trying to relax the grit to your teeth which makes your eye twitch out of frustration instead. “Now get the fuck away from me before I call a Code Black.”

She sighs, rolling her eyes and smacking loudly on her gum. “Yaga said you have to take your thirty tonight. Something about how you haven’t clocked out for a break in more than two months and the hospital could get sued for that.”

“The hospital has way bigger cases they should be biting their nails about getting sued over,” Hana snorts just to butt in on conversation.

“C’mon,” Yuna says, her fingers reaching out to touch the handle of your work-on-wheels, purposefully stretched so that you can eye the perfect sparkly manicure to her nails. You curl your fingers into the skin of your palms to hide your gel polish that’s long started to scrape off. “Go clock out.”

“I’d rather die than listen to a single fucking thing you tell me to do,” you tell her, plain and simple.

“y/n!” a loud masculine voice calls from the other end of the Emergency Department, and all three of you visibly shrink a little in your stances out of fear. Head nurse Yaga. “Take your break, or I’ll be damned to let you set another foot in this hospital!!” he’s yelling at you all the way from the entrance to the CT scanner.

“But–”

“Now!!!!!”

Your eyes flicker to Yuna, who has an amused look on her face and a tilt to her head, and then you’re grumbling before logging out of your computer then stepping away from it. “Draw a CBC & chem on Beds 24 and 28 at 4 AM sharp,” you grumble to her, and she just gives you one of those tight-skinned smiles. 

The break room is empty, with shades of beige on the walls and even more depressing shades of gray on the lockers. There are all sorts of things pasted on the walls, like photos from staff Halloween and Christmas parties, drawings that pediatric patients have made in appreciation of their nurses, and employee information that Yaga’s constantly shoving in everyone’s faces. 

Okay, the backstory with Yuna. Pretty simple. You two had been best friends since high school, like inseparable best friends. Y’know, sneaking out late at night to use fake IDs at the bar, cover for the other when you’re busy losing your virginity to your high school boyfriend in the most dishonorable way possible, rooming together in college, sobbing and crying through all of nursing school together, ride or die type of friendship that you think you’d only find once in a lifetime. Except turns out your best friend, who you’d considered a sister, had eyes for your boyfriend since you started dating him in college, and the second that dickwad dumped you, you catch her sucking him off in the back of his Toyota Camry when you go to pick your stuff up from his place. Yeah, ouch. You lost the two closest people in your life, all in the matter of twenty-four hours, so pardon yourself for being a bit bitter about it. 

But being bitter is the coping mechanism. The real way you feel comes in the form of tears prickling in your eyes and the pain in your throat as you try to swallow away the knot that’s suffocating you from the inside out. A type of loneliness that leaves you stranded even in a room full of people. But at the very least, this room is empty, so no one has to see the crack in your resolve.

There’s no time on a thirty-minute lunch break to have a full mental breakdown, so you sparsely wipe at your tears and head back to your shift.

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

If you want to know who actually holds the worst person on the planet title right now, well, you run into him on a Tuesday afternoon while on a grocery run after you just woke up from barely sufficient post night shift sleep. Bitter and drugged by Melatonin was not a state of being you needed to be in right now, but you’re out of orange juice and you’re having Vitamin C withdrawals which warrants a trip to the store. Unfortunately, the town only has one grocery store, which means you were bound to run into pestering ex-boyfriends at least once every full moon. 

“Get the fuck out of my way, Choso,” you snarl at the man who’s walking backwards ahead of your grocery cart, trying to stop you in your tracks so you’d just chill out and listen to him for a second.

“Can you just chill out and listen to me for a second?” he asks you, irritation evident in his voice like you’re being the difficult one here.

“I already told you that I quite literally never want to see your stupid ugly face ever again for as long as I live,” you say, and you ram your grocery cart forward with so much force the metal hits his knees and he doubles over the basket indignantly with a groan.

He seems like he’s had enough of you evading him, so he jams his foot under the wheel to keep you from moving forward, and you’re scowling at him and struggling against his foot-stop but to no avail. 

You briefly consider abandoning your cart all together and just bee-lining for the exit, but he’s a cop, so he’d easily be able to tackle you to the ground if you tried.

“What do you want?” you snarl, impatiently tapping your foot with every miserable passing second spent in his presence. 

“I just–” He sighs, “I just want to talk. And to know how you’re doing. You won’t pick up any of my calls.”

“Huh?” You blink at him. “I’ve had you blocked for the past two weeks. You shouldn’t even be able to call me.”

His eyebrows raise. “Really?...who have I been dialing then?” 

“Fuck if I know,” you shrug, and you use his moment of confusion to swerve your cart off to the side and make your way down the refrigerator aisle. Ohhh, dulce de leche gelato sounds nice, and it’s on sale. You grab a jar. 

Choso’s trailing behind you as you eye price tags and sale signs in the open chill of the yogurt section. “Babe–”

“Don’t–” you immediately cut him off, spinning fast on your heel and he stops himself just in time from crashing right into you. You hold your index finger up in the air between the two of you with a clench to your jaw so tight it feels sore, and through gritted teeth you say, “don’t call me babe.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry. It’s habit.”

Indeed, habit. Seven years of him calling you babe, or baby, or boobie (idk don’t ask). Your favorite though? Babydoll. He’d always call you that when he’d make sweet, sweet love to you while you were wearing his favorite flimsy little piece of lingerie–babydolls. Even now, the memories have your cheeks feeling hot. But he doesn’t get to call you babe anymore, and he doesn’t get to fuck you anymore, or talk to you anymore, or breathe in your general direction anymore, because he betrayed you. He wasted your time, and then he betrayed you.

Seven years of your sexual prime, where you could’ve been fucking hunky firefighters and bisexual Europeans, wasted on a man you weren’t even going to marry in the end anyways. Now you’re pushing thirty, and the idea of having to date again makes your skin crawl with anxiety that turns into fury because your doom is all caused by the man in front of you.

Whatever, forget about the sex and the impending loss of a woman’s novelty within society for a second. You loved him. A part of you still loves him. You wanted to marry this man. You thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with this man. Little sheriff deputy’s wife, Mrs. Kamo, the perfect number of letters to get on a bejeweled license plate. You had envisioned all the cute little quotes of adoration that would be imprinted on your wedding reception’s custom-made doily napkins with everyone that’s ever meant anything to you sitting at the table, ready to celebrate the love that you thought was real and true and brave and strong and one that would last forever.

But he abandoned you when you were at your lowest. And he fell into the arms of the one person you thought you could turn to crying when the relationship crashed and burned in the first place. And the problem with living in a small town is that everyone knows everybody’s business, so now you’re just the woman that wasted her youth on a man that played her like a broken fiddle. Utterly heartbroken, and humiliated. 

So, yeah, he doesn’t get to call you babe anymore.

“Listen here, asshole,” you say, stabbing him in the chest with your finger, so he can feel even a fraction of the pain you’ve felt in the past three weeks, “I couldn't care less if you live today, or die tomorrow. So if you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave me alone. Or I’ll file for a restraining order.”

“Really?” he says, brows pulled tight together in disbelief, like he just can’t understand what he’s done to make you act this way, and quite frankly, that only makes it sting even worse, “after everything we’ve been through, you’re just going to throw away the past seven years?”

“What the fuck are you saying?!” you all but snap at him, and an elderly couple that’s passing by flinches a little from the noise and you wince in apology before glaring at Choso again. Your voice is hushed this time. “You’re the one that broke up with me, but I’m the one that’s throwing it all away??”

He purses his lips together, and you notice how dark the circles under his eyes are. He shuts them tightly and leans back away from you, which makes you realize how much he was leaning into your space just a second ago. “I know that we…aren’t dating anymore. But, I mean, c’mon, y/n, it’s me. Just because we’re not together anymore, doesn’t mean that I don’t still…care. I want to know how your mom’s doing, and how treatment has been for her, and–” he glances up at the ceiling briefly, as if to mislead you into thinking that the next thing he says is just as nonchalantly desired as the other things he listed, “and I want to know how you’re doing, too.”

“You don’t deserve to know how I’m doing. Continue to wallow in your pathetic self righteousness, or go run with your tail between your legs to that two-faced rat I used to call a best friend. Either way, I don’t give a damn,” you say, in a way that very much sounds like you give a damn unfortunately, and spin on your heel to continue pushing your cart down to the juice section.

“Yuna and I–” you hear him say behind you, and just the mention of her name on his tongue makes your heart ache in your chest, to the point you need to place a flat palm over it just to alleviate the pain, “I–...I broke things off with her yesterday.”

Fuck. Pretend like you’re not fazed by that info. Pretend like you’re not fazed by that info.

“Okay? Whatever,” you barely manage to say.

He’s silent for a moment behind you. The wheels of your cart squeak as they roll. 

“I mean, we’re not together anymore. I’m not seeing her anymore,” he clarifies, as if he didn’t believe you heard him right the first time.

“Cool,” you comment, tone colder this time, since you had the practice round. 

“You don’t–” Choso starts, a rattle of hurt and confusion in his voice, “you don’t care about that?”

“Nope.” 

He reaches out to grab your wrist, and the contact burns through your skin, like something so familiar yet so foreign. You turn your head to look at him. 

“I…” he starts, and you can see his chest rising and falling with more intensity. Oh god. Please. Please don’t say it. You’re not sure you can handle hearing it. “I really miss you.”

Damn it, he said it.

Your posture relaxes slightly when you take a long look at him. You finally notice his hair has gotten longer in just the three weeks you’ve been apart, layered locks curling at the end of his neck, and it’s the first time you’ve noticed such a small detail because you were so used to spending everyday with him. He spent most of the week at your house, since the two of you could never formally move in with one another after your mother was diagnosed and it was easier for him to come by to yours so you could continue to keep an eye on her. There’s no option to live on your own and start your own life when you’re taking care of someone sick. They become your priority, not yourself, but you’d still make every single sacrifice you’ve made for your mother over and over again in a heartbeat if you had to relive the past five years. 

But that meant that you never had a real and true chance to live the life that you wanted with Choso. A place just for the two of you, lived in intimate solitude and not with the cries of your mother down the hall when she feels too sick to get up out of bed or when she cannot remember her own name. But you had never been this far apart from him to where you notice his hair is an inch longer than it was the last time you saw him. He was never that far away, as he is now. And you’ve just now realized it.  

“I don’t,” you start, swallowing the lump in your throat and your voice quivers ever so slightly when you speak, “I don’t care that you miss me.” You take a deep breath. “I’m getting married this weekend.”

His face entirely relaxes, like a calm before the storm, before it twists with so much confusion and incredulity and shock and–was that horror on his face?

“What?” he practically spats out, “it’s only been three weeks since we broke up!”

“Uhh,” you glance up at the ceiling of the store, just in time for an employee to make an announcement on the overhead for a manager at checkout lane 2 please, and then you glance back down at him, “I was having an affair while we were dating.” An easy lie. 

He scowls. “Yeah fucking right. There’s no way you’d cheat on me.”

His words burn bitter. The fact that he couldn’t even fathom you hurting him the same way he hurt you makes you clench your teeth. Because he knew you were better than he was, and that you were too good for him, and yet he still wasted your honor.

His friends, who used to be yours too, have probably fed him lies since the breakup. Like it’s okay, man. You broke up with her before you got involved with someone else. You didn’t do anything wrong.

But you say bullshit to all of that. Because after seven years of being together, you can’t just cold turkey a relationship like that to sleep with someone else, and then claim it’s not cheating. Technicalities like that were no vindication if the betrayal hurt all the same in the end. Because it still felt like you got cheated on regardless.

“Whatever. I don’t need to explain myself to you,” you tell him, “I’m getting married this weekend, so I really don’t give a damn about anything between us anymore. It’s over.”

“Who are you marrying?” he asks, suddenly breaking a sweat over the news like he’s starting to suspect you’re actually being serious.

“My neighbor.”

His face twists with disgust. “Old man Jenkins? He’s eighty-four years old.”

You roll your eyes. “Not the one on my left, you idiot. My neighbor to my right.”

The corner of his mouth tugs up in a ridiculing smirk, and the sight of it makes your skin crawl. He scoffs. “There’s no way. You hate that guy.”

“It’s true. I’m marrying him.”

“Seriously??” He guffaws at you, leaning in closer to you and you lean away until your back is resting on the handle of your shopping cart. “The obnoxious realtor I once heard you talking in your sleep about how much you want to murder him and then dump him in a lake?”

“What?! I talk in my sleep?!” you gasp.

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah. You have for years.”

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me that?!”

He looks annoyed. “Because you’re such a hypochondriac. You would’ve thought you had a brain tumor or something, and I’d have to deal with the paranoia that follows suit.”

“Choso,” you say to him with a strict tone, jutting your hip out to the side in preparation to scold, “my mother has Alzheimer’s, which is genetic, and I was having an abnormal neurological symptom for years which has studies to show is an early indication of dementia and you just chose not to tell me because you didn’t want to be annoyed?!”

“See?” he gestures to you, “you’re doing it right now. How did we go from just sleep talking to ‘I might have dementia’?” 

“We,” you point between you and him, “are never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever getting back together. If there’s one thing you can pull through that stupid skull of yours, make it that.”

“Excuse me,” you hear a tiny voice squeak out, and you turn to your right to see a little kid trying to push past the two of you to grab a box of GoGurt in the Yogurt section. You move your cart forward by bumping it with your butt to get out of the kid’s way, and Choso circles around to the front of your cart before you start moving forward again. Like he’s literally stopping you from moving on from him. 

“You’re lying about marrying this guy,” Choso says like it’s a fact. In typical cop gaslighting fashion. “You’re just saying that to make me jealous.”

You roll your eyes. “No. I’m just that hot and gorgeous that I made a man fall in love with me in three weeks.”

“He’s in love with you?” he asks.

“Duh, he wants to marry me. When you dumped me, I found comforting solace in my next-door-neighbor, and we fell into bed with one another, and now he feels the obligation to provide for me for the rest of my life. What’s so hard to believe about that? You didn’t find abrupt matrimony odd when we binged all three seasons of Bridgerton two months ago.”

“That show is set in the fuckin’ regency era,” he hisses at you, “look around. There’s plastic bags of Hot Cheetos with Red 40 in them everywhere. Does this look like the 1800s to you?”

You have to be careful with him. He’s a cop, who could arrest you for medical insurance fraud, and would also have a personal vendetta against your marriage because boo hoo he misses you. But yes, he was right, you did want to make him jealous, and you just can’t help it.

“Well, me and him have a love that no one else can understand, so suck it. I’m marrying him, and he’s super into me, and he can’t wait to spend the rest of his life with me, and he desperately wants to put babies in me, and–”

“And where’s the ring he gave you, then?”

Fuck. You briefly flick your gaze down to your left hand and note the daunting absence of a shiny diamond on your ring finger. Note to self, Gojo needs to buy you a ring.

“I left it at home,” you mumble.

“Uh-huh, as all newly engaged women who have been waiting for a ring all their life would do.”

That pisses you off. Because you were waiting your whole life for him to put a ring on your finger, and he never did. 

“Go fuck a fleshlight,” you snarl at him, unfortunately in earshot of the GoGurt kid and his mom shoots you a nasty look, but you’re a jaded woman after everything you’ve been through and you ram your cart into Choso so hard you swear you could’ve cracked his knee caps, and he doubles over in enough pain for you to have the time to leave him stranded there as you push your cart all the way to the end of the store. 

You finally make it to the orange juice section, the one thing you needed, although your cart is filled with things you didn’t need, because that’s always how these grocery runs go. You try to take a few breaths to calm down the fast beating in your heart after that confrontation with Choso. You’re not good with confrontation, even though it might seem like you are, but you’re just putting on a face. Acting strong, when really all you want to do is curl up into a ball and cry. But there are bills to pay, and images to upkeep, and orange juice to replenish. 

Your hand reaches out for the handle on the refrigerator door, but just before you curl your fingers around it, another hand beats you to it. It’s a large and masculine hand, with veins disappearing into the cuffed felted fabric of a suit jacket, and the knuckles turn a shade lighter than the olive skin around them when the fingers flex around the handle. 

You glance up at the person standing next to you, who you register towers over you in height. He has long, sleek black hair that shimmers under fluorescent lighting, some of which is tied up and out of his face, while the rest cascades over his back. But there’s tendrils of hair falling over the left side of his face, barely distracting you through the intensity of purple in his eyes when he glances at you.

“Ah, apologies,” he says, and the way he speaks is so calm and gentle, different from the intimidating aura he holds himself with. He retreats his hand from the handle.

“Oh, that’s–” you find yourself stuttering, “...that’s okay.” You grab the handle and open it, the chill rush of the fridge hitting you as your eyes peruse the selection of orange juice cartons while his eyes remain on you. You awkwardly glance at him again. “Sorry, d-did you also need to get orange juice?”

He nods. “Yes, I did.”

Not a man of many words, you think to yourself. Or maybe just around people he’s just met.

Your eyes catch the familiar labeling of your go-to orange juice, the one with no pulp and has added Vitamins D and E (basically the one for children), but you realize there’s only one left. You grab it anyway and put it in your cart. When you glance up at the handsome stranger beside you, there’s a slight look of amusement on his face.

“Seems we both have the same taste in orange juice,” he comments. 

“Oh no,” you say with a small laugh, “I’m sorry. It’s the last one.” Your eyes widen. “You–…you can have it, if you want–”

“Oh, no, no,” he shakes his head, long hair swaying with the motion as he holds his hands up in front of himself, “please. I will just find a nearby store.”

You tilt your head. “Oh there’s no other stores nearby…unless you get on the highway for at least twenty minutes. It’s a…small town.”

His lax expression finally cracks into one of subtle surprise. “That’s interesting.”

“Are you…new to town?” you ask.

He nods with a small smile on his face. “Indeed. Well, just visiting. I’m from New York.”

“Oh! Wow, that’s a long way from here.” You briefly register that he does look like a city man. Upscale restaurants, skyline views, premium outlets. The subtle fragrance of his cologne smells expensive too. “What are you up to while visiting?” You mentally facepalm yourself for asking personal questions, but he seems mysterious and you like peeling the layers back on people like him.

His expression drops, turning almost solemn and his eye contact that was previously very direct is suddenly averted elsewhere, “Just…visiting some old friends.” There is no elaboration.

“Ahh…I see,” you say, picking up on the hint that he has no more words to give you. “Well…I’ll be taking the orange juice…maybe try one with pulp?” you suggest a little cheekily. 

His lips tug upwards in a lopsided smile, one you’d call a smirk if you weren’t so mesmerized to define it as one, “I’ll think about it.”

You hum slightly in polite acknowledgement of him, then push your cart back towards the heart of the store without a word of goodbye.

Odd stranger, who’s good at giving misleading answers. You wonder what life he’s come here to escape. 

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

It’s a bright, picturesque Sunday morning, with children laughing and squealing out on the streets in front of your house as they ride their scooters up hot pavement while their parents catch up on PTA drama on the lawns. You’re standing in front of your full length mirror, trying on dress #3 for your little meeting with the courthouse today. And by little meeting, you mean your wedding. You’re getting married today.

The dress you have on falls to below your knees and has buttons all the way from the hem right up to the base of your neck, where the collared neckline wraps around you like a noose. Suffocating, way too prim and proper, although it’d make your grandma very happy and adored to see you should you show up to church service in it. 

Your bed is cluttered with clothes you’ve thrown across it as you try to find a good dress. Your hands move with impatience as you skim through the rack of your closet for another dress to try on, since you’re starting to push the time a little too much. You’ve only got ten minutes before you need to leave. 

A dress tucked in the corner of your closet catches your eye and you pull it out. It’s a cream-colored milk maid dress with an underskirt to puff out the A-line silhouette, length down to your shins that would be oh-so-flattering with a cute pair of heels. There are small red flowers adorning the pattern, with tiny green leaf details as well. It was cute and sweet and feminine, something you haven’t worn in a long time unlike your usual monotonous hospital scrubs, stained sweatpants and adult onesies.

It was the dress your friend Sana convinced you to buy when you thought you were going to get engaged. In the first two years of your relationship with Choso, you two talked about marriage non-stop. You both had just graduated college when you first started dating, and it felt like your lives were finally starting. At the end of the second year you two had been together for, after Christmas dinner with your family, he pulled you into his arms and you squealed with glee as he spinned you around in your childhood bedroom upstairs and told you how much he wanted to marry you, and that he was going to propose in the new year.

Your mother was diagnosed with cancer in January, and he never brought up marriage ever again. 

He still stayed with you for five years after that though, and swiftly dodged every single question you ever asked him about his impending proposal. For five years, you were fed every excuse in the book. And in hindsight, you feel like an idiot for staying, and for still holding out hope, when what you were really holding onto was heartbreak. The feeling of not being enough, like someone was just tolerating you, and not loving you. It was easy to ignore at times, given how occupied you were with driving your mother to chemotherapy appointments and reading up on books about which diet works best to slow down the development of Alzheimer’s because your mother started showing signs of dementia just two months after the cancer diagnosis. But in those moments of freedom, where you had a moment to breathe, all you could breathe was a suffocating smoke. Because you stopped feeling wanted or loved in between all of it.

But there was a trip he planned for the two of you to Greece. It was after your mother had first successfully gotten into remission. A gasp of fresh air amongst all the pain and suffering, and you could only assume that he wanted to celebrate by taking you on a trip. Sana was convinced he was going to propose to you on this trip, and you wondered if maybe he was just waiting until your mother felt better before he proposed so that the two of you could enjoy being newly engaged without the pressure or worry. Sana took you shopping, and you bought this dress, one that clings to your form in a way that made you feel beautiful. Made you feel wanted. Made you feel worthy of being loved. Because all other parts of yourself had been overlooked and paid no attention, but you thought a dress could save you. 

He never proposed. You left Greece with an extra suitcase of souvenirs, but without a ring on your finger or even a compliment on how beautiful you should’ve looked to him standing there on that beach with this cream-colored dress on, arm wrapped around his. And it was at that point you became numb, and you existed in limbo for the remaining four years of your relationship. Until he finally did what you silently begged him to do, with every sullen look in your eyes when you glanced at him. Maybe it was a self-fulfilling prophecy, what he did to you. Something you willed him into because you didn’t have the strength to leave, and so he had to.

You hold the dress up to your form in the mirror. It’d still fit you, and it’s far too pretty to have only worn once. But you’ve been numb for so long now, you don’t even remember what it’s like to feel pretty in a dress. You unbutton yourself out of dress #3 and step into failed proposal dress #4, and as you slowly zip up the back of the dress, you’re met with resistance. 

Fuck.

The last thing you need right now is a weight-related meltdown.

You tug up on the zipper even more, harshly, to the point you hear a stitch rip and you gasp and try to do it slowly so as not to completely tear the dress apart. But it’s not fitting. It should fit. You just assume the zip is stuck, or it’s too rigid after years of no wear.

You’re about to do another colossal yank upwards that could potentially dislocate your shoulder when you jump at the sound of your phone chiming with a notification. And then multiple.

“What...the hell…do you want…” you sigh to nobody, swiping your hands across the pile of dress fabric on your bed to find your phone, and when you do, you quickly tap on the screen to see the messages.

|| 11:32AM neighbor (avocado tree): Hey, are we still getting married today?

First of all, wild fucking thing to nonchalantly ask.

|| 11:32AM neighbor (avocado tree): Your car’s still parked out front, so I wasn’t sure if you’ve left yet. I was just about to leave, and then the thought occurred to me that we should probably carpool?

|| 11:35AM neighbor (avocado tree): But just wanted to verify, are you sure you want to go through with this? You’re not having cold feet? Won’t be a runaway bride? I’m not gonna be left at the altar, wondering where I went wrong?

You roll your eyes, breathing heavily still from the struggle of zipping up your dress.

|| 11:36AM You: yes, we are still getting married. I just can’t zip up my dress for the life of me 

It takes him a whole minute to respond.

|| 11:38AM neighbor (avocado tree): Do you need help?

You blink at your phone screen. Help? What kind of help? Helping you zip up your dress?

You look over your shoulder to the full length mirror, eyeing your back. The dress was zipped up to just above the small of your back, with the rest of it flayed open to reveal the expanse of your skin. Setting your phone down, you roll your shoulders back once and flex your fingers to try again in securing this dress, but to no avail. You curse yourself for not having the flexibility, and to be honest, you’re not even sure if you can take the dress off anymore to get into something else with the way the zipper won’t budge neither up nor down. Well. You’re just going to have to wear this dress for the rest of your life now. A scary predicament.

You pick your phone up again.

|| 11:41AM You: yes

It only takes about two minutes for him to text you that he’s at your front door, a surprisingly considerate gesture considering your mother is sleeping downstairs so it’s good he didn’t ring the doorbell, and you tiptoe your way down and over the creaky floorboards of the stairs to the front entrance. 

You slowly crack the door open only a couple inches, hiding yourself from him behind it as you peek at him. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he says, and he glances at his watch. “We’ve got to hurry.”

You nod, and take note of his appearance. He’s wearing a dark fitted navy suit over a white dress shirt, which to your surprise, doesn’t have the top two buttons sluttily undone for once. His suit pants are perfectly tailored to his ankles and you can barely see the exposed fabric of black socks before they disappear into his polished Oxfords. He looks like he’s going to a wedding. Oh wait, he is. 

He raises an eyebrow at you when you refuse to reveal yourself by stepping away from behind the door. Even his hair is particularly kept and proper, swept off to the side slightly in a way that makes him look younger and you feel nervous from the intensity of those eyes, which are usually somewhat hidden by the fringe of his snowy hair, now look at you unwaveringly with no obstruction. You feel like you’re seeing him in a completely new light, and for some reason, it makes you cower behind the door even more. 

“Uh, are you going to let me in?” he asks you, his foot tapping lightly on the welcome! mat. 

“Yes,” you say, but you make no movement to prove your word. 

“y/n,” he says, “we need to get going.”

You sigh, tapping your fingers against the stained glass window of your front door to release some nerves before hesitantly stepping to the side and pulling the door open all the way, then you’re standing in front of him in full view. You catch a glimpse of the black tie hanging from his neck that’s secured all the way up to the collar of his shirt, before you finally look at his face.

Those striking eyes of his round slowly until he’s looking at you wide-eyed, blinking in some sort of dazed surprise as his gaze eventually sweeps down your entire form to take in the sight of you standing barefoot on wooden floor in your cream-colored dress, and you swear you see the muscles in his jaw jump. His brow furrows like he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

“You–” he starts, that shocked blinking still taking place on his face, and you grasp the fabric of your dress in front of you from the anticipation of what he’ll say, “...you look beautiful.”

A silence settles between the two of you as he continues to roam his eyes all down you like there’s nothing that could stop him from doing it, and you feel heat in your cheeks from his compliment. It’s just a silly little cream-colored dress. One that didn’t look pretty on a beach in Greece, so why would it look beautiful on you  here right now? While you’re standing at the dusty front entrance of a decades old house? He’s bullshitting you.

“You know you don’t have to compliment me, you know that, right?” you squeak out, trying to keep your tone level and easy to fight back the raw feeling in your throat, “this isn’t a first look. There are no photographers around to capture your reaction. We’re not actually getting married.”

“But–” 

“Can you just help me with the dress?” you cut him off so he doesn’t say anything else that makes you feel pretty right now.

“...sure,” he agrees, and he steps inside your house. You start to walk upstairs, and he follows suit, and you suddenly feel his eyes on your back so you turn around and walk up the stairs backwards while facing him.

“I don’t understand the concept of first looks anyway,” he says out of nowhere to cut the silence, “isn’t it a bad omen to see your partner before getting married?”

“That’s such an outdated superstition,” you tell him as your feet finally press firmly flat at the top of the stairs. 

One of his feet is placed next to where you’re standing up straight at the top, while the other is still on the third step down. And it’s like he’s kneeling on one knee in front of you as he looks up at you. After a moment of deep breathing on your part, you finally step away from the top of the stairs so he can finish walking up them too.

“I don’t know what happened,” you say to him as you make it to the front of your full length mirror, “I was just trying to zip it up but it got stuck. And it’s not unzipping either.”

He comes up behind you, and you can see in the mirror that he’s put a decent amount of space between the two of you from the way his arms are reached out in front of him just to access the zipper. He tugs up on it.

“Hm. It…” he struggles with it, “it seems…” he yanks again, “jammed?”

“Fudge,” you mutter under your breath (more ladylike perhaps, as opposed to fuck) and you sulk your shoulders. “But will it close at all, do you think?”

He takes a step closer to you, and his cologne has the fragrance of woody oak with undertones of citrus, like something expensive and sophisticated. His hand sweeps your hair off to the side and over your shoulder to the front so he has a better view, fingers brushing against the nape of your neck from the motion and you try to fight the shiver. A glance to the mirror, and you see his eyes are set on the exposed skin. He tugs to pull your dress together, and is able to cross the fabrics. “Yeah, it should. I think just hold your breath for a second? I’m going to try to see if zipping it down helps unjam it.” 

“Okay,” you say softly, and he eyes you in the mirror at the sudden subservience. 

You try to hold your breath as he tugs down on the zipper, and you hear the metallic click when he succeeds in unjamming it before he zips it down just an inch. You can feel the small of your back exposed to cool air from the motion. 

He’s suddenly frozen entirely behind you, the knuckle of his index finger brushing against your skin as he continues to pinch the zipper between it and his thumb. You feel his slow exhale on the back of your neck. You’re too scared to look at his expression in the mirror.

“Sa–” you stutter through a gasp, “Satoru.”

“Sorry,” he says quietly, and then he’s shifting on his feet once before slowly attempting to zip the dress up. 

He’s met with a slight resistance just underneath your shoulder blades. “Hey. Just hold your breath.”

“I’m trying to,” you tell him, almost whining, because it’s hard to stop breathing when your heart is beating fast and it needs the oxygen supply.

“Do you want to try on a different dress?” he asks you.

“No,” you immediately answer him. You’re not sure why, but the idea of wearing this dress for the rest of your life doesn’t scare you anymore. In fact, you never want to take it off.

Your hands twiddle with the flimsy string at your collarbone that you tied to connect the fabric across your chest, and then you realize. “Oh…maybe I need to–” you tug at the end of the string, “undo this? That might make it looser?” You finally glance at the mirror to seek his approval of your suggestion.

His eyes meet yours, and when he sees what you’re referring to, his eyes widen. “But that would–”

“Just don’t look,” you say simply.

You two remain looking at one another in the mirror, and you see his chest heaving slightly through the tightening of his dress shirt against the expansion of his breathing. Like you’re asking the impossible of him.

“Or I’ll kill you,” you say.

He sighs, and his eyes flit down to your zipper again. You swear you feel his hand tremble slightly. “Alright.”

You pull on the end of the string, watching him in the mirror to make sure his eyes don’t wander, and the fabric covering your breasts falls open, but you use a hand to still sparsely cover your skin with the cloth where you can. In the reflection, you see his jaw clench but his eyes remain on the zipper, and only briefly flicker to the bed once. Then he’s zipping up your dress with ease. 

You quickly tie the string above your chest once more to cover yourself up, and then spin to face the mirror, petting down the fabric of your dress and throwing your hair back over your shoulder. It was a snug fit, but at least it still fit. 

He’s a step behind you with his hands shoved in his suit pockets, looking at your face with a slight tilt to his head like he’s studying you in the mirror just as much as you’re studying yourself. And then he pulls his hand out of his pocket to glance at his watch again. “It’s almost noon,” he says. 

“What?!” you bark at him. “We’re fucking late!!! Why didn’t you say anything?!?!”

“Huh??” he baffles. “I’ve been trying to tell you we need to rush this entire time.”

“Oh my god, oh my god,” you say, pacing your room to find your things in a scurry, picking your purse up and then grabbing your Manila folder of paperwork from your desk, and you try to walk past him to the door when you trip over the five pairs of shoes that you had been trying on earlier, almost twisting your ankle, and you gasp then grab onto his suit jacket for purchase before his arm attempts to reach out to hold you upright but to no avail since you tug on him as you fall straight backwards onto your bed and bring him down with you. 

His hands sink into the soft mattress on both sides of your head, wrists tickled by your hair, as he hovers over you, and your fingers quickly curl into little balls at your chest as you shrink underneath him, looking up at his surprised expression, likely from having to suddenly brace himself from falling right on top of you.

You both look at each other, blinking as you come down from the sudden chaos, and his tie that’s hanging from his neck brushes against your knuckle and falls over your hand to graze the skin above your breasts. His eyes briefly flicker to the sight, and he catches himself only to stare at your lips instead.

Even through thick layers of fabric, you can see the thick curves of the muscles in his arms, pulled taut from how he’s holding himself up over you. And for once, you wish the buttons of his shirt were undone, so you can see what he’s hiding underneath. The hair he had swept up above his eyes now falls freely with gravity, soft tufts that dangle above you and shadow over the blue of his eyes as he looks at you with a furrowed brow that–...that makes him look handsome. 

You must be ovulating.

No, wait, you finished ovulating a couple days ago.

Oh god.

Was your next door neighbor hot this entire time?

There was simply no way. 

You refuse to believe it.

You’re laying still like a deer in highlights, motionless underneath him, before he curls his arm around your waist to bring you up with him as he stands up straight, and you only spend a moment pressed up against him before you get yourself out of his grasp by pushing flat palms against his chest, and then the two of you are in proper distance from one another once again.

“D-Don’t ever do something like that ever again,” you stutter, shimmying your hips slightly to pull the snug fabric down your waist from where it had risen up.

“I didn’t do anything,” he grumbles, and he runs a hand through his hair. Now it looks like it always does, no longer prim in style.

“Whatever, let’s just go.” You slip your feet into one of the pairs of heels sprawled across on the floor, and then you head straight for the door. “You drive.”

You hear him sigh behind you. “Yes ma’am.”

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

The courthouse is bustling with people when you two arrive but Gojo’s pleasantly able to pull into an open curbside parking spot right in front of the entrance. You’re surprised when he comes around to the passenger side to open the door for you, and you swat his hand away when he offers it to you too, but you probably should’ve taken it, since you almost twist your ankle for the second time today as you step out onto the curb and get used to walking in heels again like a newborn fawn.

“Should’ve taken my hand,” he says to you, smile turned upwards into a smirk as he watches you struggle while he’s a few steps ahead of you.

“Give it to me then,” you grit through your teeth as you wobble, giving up your pride to avoid adding yet another medical bill to the list of debts in your name.

“Nah,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets, “too late. Lost your chance.” You curse his entire lineage in your head.

You two make it inside the courtroom, and the first person you look for is Hana, whose head you catch at the front row much to your pleasant surprise since she is your sole witness to sign on the marriage certificate today. But in your study of the room to find her, you notice that there are a lot of other people in here as well.

“Don’t tell me…Did you invite people??” you ask Gojo, grabbing onto his sleeve to get his attention and also for balance, but he doesn’t need to know that latter part.

He glances down at you. “No? Why would I invite people to my fake wedding?”

Your eyes peruse the room once again, and you realize that most of them are just old retired people with nothing better to do on a Sunday than visit the courtroom. Some are elderly couples, eyeing you and Gojo as you two make your way down the aisle with sweetness in their eyes like awwwwwww to be a young couple in love once more <3 while they wait for the judge to call on their hundreds of unpaid parking tickets because they don’t know how to access an internet portal.

“D-Do you have the marriage license?” you squeak out to Gojo, who has now adjusted his walking speed to match yours.

“No, I left it at home,” he tells you in a flat tone. “Of course I brought the marriage license.”

“I was just checking, jeez…” you grumble.

Gojo hands the clerk the folder he was holding in his hand, and you hand in yours too.

Oh god. Your peripheral vision already recognizes him before your brain can, but you see an extremely familiar silhouette standing guard off to the side of the Judge’s bench, and your gaze immediately snaps in that direction.

Choso stands there, in his Sheriff Deputy’s uniform, his thumbs tucked into his vest as he puffs his chest out in assertion of his oh so important duty securing the courthouse on a Summer Sunday from any devastating danger, such as an elderly man not wanting to pay a parking ticket and then proceeding to charge towards the judge at 2 MPH, and you can’t help but roll your eyes from his attitude and scowl at him. Of course he pulled some strings and saw when you were getting allegedly married and decided to show up on that exact day. Whatever. You’ll pay him no mind. As long as he doesn’t speak now.

You and Gojo walk back to the lower desk in front of the Judge’s Bench.

“Ah! y/n, hello my dear, how are you?” the judge calls out to you.

“Hi Judge Jun,” you say meekly with a small wave, your voice echoing in the room, “good, and yourself?”

6/4/2024 1232: Judge Jun is a 72 y/o man with a past medical history of hypertension, hypercholesterolemia, hyperglycemia, GERD, liver cirrhosis and COPD, who endorses a social history of frequent tobacco usage and occasional alcohol consumption. Patient presents to the ED with chief complaint of chest pain, onset two hours ago after he drank three bottles of beer, and—

“Much better since you took care of me last week!” he humphs, patting his stomach.

You snap out of your automatic charting that was droning on in your head on reflex from how many times Judge Jun has shown up to the ED for acute chest pain which almost always ends up just being beer-induced GERD.

“At the hospital!” you clarify, “for taking care of you at the hospital!”

The man laughs heartily from where he sits up at the raised platform bench. “Yes! And Mr. Gojo! Nice to see you as well.”

You flit your eyes to Gojo, like you know him too? He only briefly spares you a sidewards glance before looking back at Judge Jun. “Likewise, sir.”

You postulate he scammed the fuck out of the man into signing a forty-year lease on a condo in the shady part of town, and you’ll leave it at that.

“I have to say, I am a little shocked by this matrimonial partnership!” Judge Jun chimes in. “But do you both swear to enter this marriage under just circumstances? I will need verbal affirmation from you both.”

Gojo raises his hand up in the air to swear on it, and you remember that he’s possibly done this before. Y’know how people have a courtroom wedding before a real wedding, something like that. And maybe that’s why he knows to raise his hand, because you didn’t even know you were supposed to raise your hand until now.

A real wedding. Something you’ve pictured a lot in your head, and so much more different than the arrangement you find yourself in right now. And because the pain of imagining yourself tying the knot with someone is too much right now, especially when the man you thought you were going to marry stands in uniform five feet away from you and probably doesn’t even recognize the dress you’re wearing right now, you glance over to Gojo and you try to imagine what a real wedding would’ve been like for him. Since he’s done it before.

He probably had a tacky wedding, like in a barn with barrels of beer used as tables with barely flickering string lights hung across wooden planks high on a triangular ceiling. The reception and the ceremony likely happened under the same roof, because he seems like the minimalist type, more focused on the feelings behind it and all, and not the grandeur.

Or maybe he was into the grandeur. Maybe he had a wedding on a skyline penthouse in the city, wearing expensive cologne like the one he’s wearing now, and a Dior suit he got custom made because it was a once in a lifetime occasion so why not? The image becomes a little too vivid in your head now, where you can picture this woman he’s marrying too. Pretty, tall just like him, wearing a ball gown white dress. He would’ve told her she looked beautiful, too. He would’ve told her he can’t wait to spend the rest of his life with her. Vows uttered shakingly into the microphone at an altar while the sun is setting far into the sky, shimmering off of high building windows until the air is golden and it reflects off of his and his soon-to-be wife’s face. And when they’ve professed their love for one another, he grabs her by the waist and dips her in a kiss, for the perfect picture against the perfect backdrop in front of all the perfect little people because there probably was a photographer at that event, wanting to capture the moment.

You snap out of the dazed moment when a loud voice calls out your name, and in a shock, you glance back up at Judge Jun who’s looking at you with slight irritation.

“Huh?” you squeak out, and then turn to look at Gojo, who’s got a look of mild concern on his face as he raises an eyebrow at you.

“Please swear that this marriage is under just circumstances,” Judge Jun states with a cadence that indicates he’s commanded this of you multiple times already.

“Oh!” you stand up straight, “I—…I’m sorry.” You hold your hand up. “Yes, I swear this marriage is under just circumstances.” Just like Higurama had you practice. He’d be proud. Phew, the hard part was over.

The rest of the ceremony goes by in a rather fast blur, and it’s a little awkward when you both have to tell Judge Jun that you don’t have any vows to exchange at the moment when he offers the time for them, but Gojo comes up with some lie about how the real vows will be at our formal ceremony, and Judge Jun seems entirely satisfied and a little too ecstatic by the answer before allowing you two and Hana to sign the marriage certificate.

“And rings?” Judge Jun asks as he peers down through his glasses to the paper he was holding at his desk. “We can now make time for the exchange of rings.”

You’re prepared for Gojo to come up with another lie about how the real rings will be at our formal ceremony, but you see him shuffling with something in his pocket in your periphery. Hm? You glance down at his hip, and you see him pull something shiny out.

He turns to face you, and he holds his hand out to you with an up-facing palm. You blink at him and then glance down at his hand. And then you look up and blink at him, and then glance down his hand. And then you look up and blink at him, and then gl—

“Give me your hand,” he says to you, a little hushed and rushed.

“Why???” you ask, baffled.

“So I can put a ring on your finger?” he says, like it’s the most casual thing. Like getting a ring slipped onto your fourth finger is the most casual Sunday for you, when it’s something you’ve dreamt of your whole entire life.

You finally take a long hard look at the ring he’s holding in his right hand. It shimmers with every glint of light in the courtroom off of every angle, no doubtedly precisely cut diamond from a jeweler who really cares about their craft, and you swear you’ve saved a similar looking ring to one of your Pinterest wedding boards before.

You hesitantly bring your hand up and hover it over his.

“Your left hand, silly,” he tells you.

“Oh, right,” you say, and hand him your left one instead.

He holds it in his hand that is much warmer than yours, and it’s so tender, the way he gently slips the ring onto your finger. It fits with ease, perfection actually, and you can’t help raising your hand up in the air, spreading your fingers weakly as you admire the stone now sitting above your knuckle. It’s pretty.

You feel Gojo’s eyes on you, as he’s halted in frame, and you glance past your hand to look at his face. You dislike him. You do. You should. He’s your annoying as fuck next-door-neighbor. So then why does your heart feel like it could burst right now?

A glimmer of silver catches your eye, and you look down at his hands as he slips a silver ring onto his left hand while facing you before he turns to face the front again, signaling the end of the ring exchange, except you didn’t get to put it on his hand. He didn’t give you the chance.

“Alright! Wonderful!” Judge Jun exclaims, whose eyesight is probably too poor to have seen that it wasn’t even a proper ring exchange. “With the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife!”

There is scattered applause across the courtroom, a few cheers as well, as you two stand in front of the court of law in holy matrimony.

Judge Jun glances at Gojo. “Well, young man, you may now kiss the bride!”

“Oh—…that—” you stutter, “that’s not necessa—”

“Okay,” Gojo says, more to affirm Judge Jun than in acknowledgement of your protest, and in a series of what feels like just one motion, he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you two him and then he—

He kisses you.

He kisses you like it’s real, like there’s history, like it’s a pure thing meant to last and not something you quite literally put a time stamp on. The kiss muffles the small sound that comes from your throat, your hands held up in the air in some slight surrender before they slowly settle on his shoulders as he bends you backwards over his forearm to deepen the kiss and the cheers surrounding you grow with a fervor that has your cheeks burning red but for some reason you don’t want it to end—

And then he pulls away from you, eyes darting across the features of your face in close proximity as he exhales slowly, like a release, and it feels like the two of you are the only ones in this room before he glances at your lips one last time and then he releases his hold on you. You stand shocked, and briefly glance at Choso, who looks like he’s about to burst a fuse off the top of his head.

What.

What.

What?

And just like that, you were married to your insufferable next-door neighbor.

.

.

.

[end of chapter 2]

a/n. thank youuu soooo so much for reading this chapter of ihm!! i’m kinda liking the writing style i’ve adopted for this series, it’s kinda lax n lenient sort of like a stream of consciousness and i hope it doesn’t come of too crass of informal lol i’m just playing around w some writing styles rn. ANYWHO i hope you enjoyed!! btw i picture choso as long-hair choso in any modern au (and not pigtails choso) so if you see me describing his hair in the way that i do, that’s why lol. love you all so much, hope to see you in the next one <3

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[royaltozaki]

ordinarily

synopsis: you’re having a few issues with your sex life so you decide to start seeing a sex therapist with your boyfriend

warnings: reader receiving, cheating, lots of sex talk bcs this entire fic is literally set around sex, fingering, clitoral stimulus, vibrators, dildos + strap on, sana watches reader masturbate

w/c: 7.8k

a/n: if u didn't know im a psych student and this idea came to me at 3am while cramming sexual dysfunctions for my finals and i ltr wrote this in a few hours bcs i was OBSESSED - that being said this is all still fictional bcs... let's be honest i js wanted to have sex with dr sana but some of the facts are still real! the treatment however... not so real LMAO

❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“ms. l/n?”

“yes!” you scramble upwards at the sound of your name, pulling your boyfriend up with you and walking briskly towards the woman who’s called you. she offers a kind smile, gesturing for you to follow her.

“is it alright if i bring my boyfriend along?”

she nods, “yes that’s fine. it’s actually customary that both partners are here for appointments like these.”

she leads you towards her office, a clean, organised room with a small couch next to the doctor’s table and chair, and what looks like an upgraded version of a classic examination table.

she seats you both and rolls her chair forward so she’s facing the both of you when she talks. “so how can i help you today ms. l/n?” her eyes are kind, a hint of a smile on her lips.

“u-um just y/n is fine dr. …” you glance to her badge, “minatozaki.”

“alright y/n. sana is fine for me too then.” she smiles.

“r-right sana. so we’ve just been having some trouble with our- um- sex life recently and i think it’s mainly my fault.”

she frowns a little, picking up a notepad on her table to jot down some things, “why would you think that?”

“um well- i- i haven’t um- i’ve never had a penis in me before. my previous male partners would only ever use their hands or mouth but because we were getting a little more serious than that, i wanted to let ben-“ you glance at your boyfriend who looks a little uncomfortable, shifting around in his seat a little, “be the first and we’ve tried for a while now but it’s always just too painful? and i know everyone says the pain passes and whatever but it never seems to pass for me…” you blush, getting progressively embarrassed as you go on.

"i see. do you mind if i ask you a few questions about your sex life?"

you nod, feeling intimidated by the things she's jotting down into her notepad.

"how long has this been going on?"

"umm- i'd say we've tried to have penetrative sex for about 2 months now?"

"have you ever experienced anything like this before?"

"no."

"do you have any history of previous mental health problems?"

"not really, no."

"when you attempt to have sex, do you engage in foreplay?"

"u-um... yes."

"and are you able to secrete natural lubricant from that?"

ben lets out an undignifed snort. you elbow him, face burning red when sana looks up from her notepad, narrowing her eyes at ben who shrinks in his seat, covering his mouth.

"u-um yes i think so."

"ben? is this true?" sana's eyes are locked on ben.

"sorry doc are you asking me if my girlfriend gets wet?"

"for lack of better words yes."

"well yes she gets plenty wet. i always make sure she's turned on before i go in. if you’re asking about if i'm good at sex then yes. i am. plenty of girls in the past have cum because of me."

"i didn't ask that but thank you for your contribution." sana says a little sarcastically, looking back towards you and then down to her notepad. you elbow ben again in response who glances at you slightly annoyed, the tips of his ears red.

"what sorts of foreplay activity do you engage in, does it arouse you, and on average how long would you say your foreplay would go on for?"

"i- um- i-"

"this is a safe space. everything i'm asking is purely for diagnosis reasons, there's nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about, i deal with lots of clients everyday who come in and have talked about much more bizarre things and none of them are nearly as attractive as you are which makes it a lot worse when someone comes in here claiming they have sexual proclivities towards aliens or otherworldly beings."

you blush, the throwaway compliment in there didn't fly past you. "do people really ask about that?"

sana chuckles a little, "oh you'd be surprised the things people come in here about."

you laugh a little in response as well, feeling more comfortable around the doctor, "um well i guess we do all the normal stuff. kissing, whatever, um it usually lasts about... 10 minutes?" you turn to ben who shakes his head a little so you correct yourself, "20 minutes maybe. and um yeah i guess it does arouse me."

sana hums, making a few more notes, "are your nipples sensitive? your breasts? does he play with them? what about your clitoris?"

"i- um- yes... to all of those."

"have you ever orgasmed before?"

"i- yes."

she senses the hesitation in your voice, looking up curiously, "have you orgasmed during sexual relations with ben?"

you shuffle in your seat a little uncomfortably. ben looks at you expectedly, but you can't bring yourself to meet his eyes.

"yes. yes she has." ben replies for you instead when he realises you're not responding.

sana's eyes cut to his with a scowl forming on her face, "did you know only 64.4% of women are able to reach their orgasm during sex? and that number is even lower when the sex is just penetrative? in comparison, 91.3% of men reach their orgasm, in fact, sexual dysfunction in men is actually more common when men orgasm too fast."

ben raises an eyebrow defiantly, "your point doc?"

"that it's normal for women not to reach orgasm. and normal for them to fake it when their boyfriends are pretentious assholes that think they have the best game in the world but in reality, have inflated egos that would easily be shattered if he found out he wasn't as good as he thought he was. most of these women care too much about hurting their partner's feelings than to tell the truth."

ben leans forward aggressively, ignoring your protests for him to sit back down, "i don't know what kinda whack patients you got in here doc but i'm not one of them. i don't need anyone to worry about my feelings like you women do."

sana rolls her eyes, not backing down from his intimidation, "do you have any problems with sexual activity? come too fast? not able to get it up? not able to come?"

ben sputters, "w-what?! who do you think i am?!"

"it's a yes or no question."

"no! i don't have any of those problems! i told you i'm not one of your weird patients!"

"alright that's all we'll be needing from you today. i think this session will be much more productive for y/n if you leave the room. so if you'd please-" she stands up and opens the door, indicating for him to leave.

"what? you can't just kick me out! this is my girlfriend! i'm just as involved in this as she is!"

"actually, since you haven't admitted to having any problems with sex, and you've both said that foreplay and arousal is adequate, there's nothing more that involves you. so yes, i can kick you out."

ben looks back at you, his face red, but you push him forward, "just go ben don't make a scene. i'll see you outside." he frowns, sending a final glare to sana before stomping out the room.

sana closes the door softly after him, settling back down with a sigh.

"i'm so sorry about him i didn't know he would react like that i-"

"it's okay y/n. this is actually quite common. sexual dysfunction is often severely underreported in men, because of the masculine standards they put themselves up to, lots of them won't seek treatment. that's why most of the clients we get are women who come in here with their boyfriends, and a lot of the time these boyfriends don't think they have anything to do with the women's sexual dysfunction, and a lot of them can't accept that they do."

"but you just said-"

"i know what i said. and it's true that if your foreplay is indeed enough and arousing for you, and that this isn't because of any sexual dysfunction he may have, then it no longer directly regards him. however, just because it doesn't directly involve him, doesn't mean it's got absolutely nothing to do with him. i do think i have an idea of what you're going through, but to confirm i'd like to ask a couple more questions if that's okay with you? and hopefully you can be fully honest with me now that ben isn't here."

you shuffle in your seat a little. "yeah of course."

she smiles, going back to her notepad, "so backtracking a bit, i'm assuming ben hasn't been able to make you orgasm?"

you blush, shaking your head.

"how about with previous partners? is there anything they've done that's helped you reach that orgasm or are there any similarities you can think about between them?"

"mm well for one, i've only ever been able to come when i'm with women."

"oh?" sana looks up again over her specs, a twinkle in her eye.

"u-um yeah and with them it's mostly um, using their hands or oral, and even then i normally need at least some clitoral stimulation to come. i have tried using dildos before but i also find it a little too painful, but i'm at least able to bear it when it's with a woman, with ben i kinda just push him off because it's all too much."

"i see. that's quite normal. most women do require clitoral stimulation to be able to orgasm. a very small proportion of women are actually able to come from penetration alone. do you masturbate?"

you blush again, fiddling with your fingers, but her friendly smile reassures you, "yes. well- less since i've been with ben because he doesn't really like it when he finds out i've touched myself. he gets a little offended and always says i don't need to masturbate when i have him. he takes offense because he thinks i'm doing it since he's not doing a good enough job or something."

"hmm." she hums, jotting something else down, "is he doing a good enough job? i know you said foreplay was fine but i just wanted to check in on that again."

"he's alright i guess. like most men i've been with in the past he does kinda rush things a little, and he does do foreplay it's just a little rougher than i like sometimes. i also think um-" you blush, eyes flickering around the room.

"mm?" sana smiles gently again, encouraging you.

"i think he has trouble finding my clit? or i don't know he always kinda fumbles around when he fingers me so his hands always brush against my clit a little too rough and then he presses down on parts where he thinks it is and asks me if it feels good."

sana hums again, writing down some more notes before the next question. "so back to masturbation, before ben, how often would you say you masturbated?"

"oh u-um, maybe like once a month?"

"and you're able to make yourself come?"

"sometimes. sometimes it just gets too tiring and i end up just falling asleep."

"i see." sana writes a few finishing notes and then places her notepad on the table. "so from what you've told me today, it would seem like you have something called genito-pelvic pain or penetration disorder. normally this sort of behaviour has to go on for at least 6 months before it is diagnosable, but even though it’s only been two months for you, we can still work on ways to improve your symptoms. so there's nothing physically wrong with you or your body, this is more of a cognitive response to a fear of pain from penetration. what happens is because of this fear, you're vaginal muscles tighten when you're about to have sex, they're trying to protect you from this invasive thing that's going to enter your body and that it thinks will cause you a lot of pain. this is why it's so much more painful when someone does penetrate you, because you're muscles are already working actively to try and push it out, they only get tighter and tighter making sex more painful for you. this kinda creates this cycle of fear because it does hurt when you have sex, so the next time it happens, your muscles learn to anticipate this pain and try to close you off from this external invasion. does that kinda make sense?"

you nod a little hazily, the words floating around in your head.

"it's a good thing that you're still able to take penetration though. in some extreme cases women's vaginas have been sealed so tight penis penetration is impossible. now there aren't any medications for this unfortunately, but the main treatment is to unlearn this fear that's maintaining the disorder, and eventually you'll be able to engage in sex that is enjoyable for you again."

"how would i unlearn that?"

"well first of all, masturbation helps. a lot. you say you were only really doing it once a month in the past but actually, masturbating weekly or even twice a week is perfectly normal. and i know you said your boyfriend doesn't really like it but... well it's your body right? if he can't make you feel good then you need to start learning how to make yourself feel good. you need to start turning sex into a positive experience again. later down the line, that also means a lot more foreplay than what you're currently doing. i'm talking like an hour at least. using lube as well will be extremely useful, even if you are wet, it always helps to be fully prepared for that first penetration. i know this all sounds like a lot right now so we'll start slow. would you mind getting up on the examination table and taking off your pants and underwear. i'd like to examine your pelvic muscles a little more closely."

you nod, shuffling onto your feet and beginning to strip out of your clothes. sana pays you no mind, grabbing a new pair of gloves and slipping them on. you figure sana has done this plenty of times in the past, there was nothing to be embarrassed about. well... aside from the fact that sana was really pretty and her really pretty hands were about to be touching you and-

she's turning back around when you lay on the examination table, hands crossed on your stomach, fiddling with your fingers. you avoid her gaze but catch the way her eyes linger a little on your legs. she moves closer towards you, you keep your gaze fixed on the ceiling, feeling the tips of your ears go red at the attention.

she giggles a little and you're confused, "y/n you have to open your legs for me to be able to see anything."

"oh right i- um-" you shyly spread your legs apart, revealing your cleanly shaven lips.

sana squeezes something into her hand, "this is just lube. to see your pelvic muscles in action means i'll have to part your walls so i'm just lubricating them to make it a little more comfortable for you." she looks up at you, waiting for your consent, and when you nod, she gets straight to work.

you gasp at the cold feeling of the lubricant running down your folds, wiggling a little. then, sana's hands come in and start massaging the lube along your folds, spreading it so it covers the entire surface area of your core, fingers gentle as she spreads the liquid. your breath catches a little when she bypasses your clit, squeezing your hands together, and trying your best to not make any inappropriate sounds while in your doctor's office.

you sneak a glance down at her, watching the way she has her lip caught between her teeth while she focuses, eyes glued to your folds. she spreads your lips and starts applying the lube on your inner folds as well, meticulous with her work, making sure no slice of skin was missed.

"i'm going to start prodding around your entrance now alright?"

you can only choke out a hum in response, not trusting your voice to give away the fact that this was turning you on very much.

one of her fingers glides down to your entrance, her other hand still holding your lips open, and she starts to poke gently at your entrance, you can feel when a short fingernail dips in just slightly, wiggling around a little to try and loosen you up. at this point you're kinda glad sana went with the lube because it meant she couldn't tell she was actually getting you spectacularly wet on her own, your own slick mixing with the lube she's spread all over.

she starts pushing a finger in very slowly, but you cringe a little and shuffle your hips when she's about a knuckle in. she pulls out gently, "hurts?"

you nod, "a little."

she starts pressing gently against your folds again, "i'm just going to try massage your folds from the outside, hopefully it'll get your muscles to relax a little with some stimulation."

it is relaxing, the way she's gently pressing into you, it’s certainly never like anything you’ve felt before, it turns you on, but also eases you, it’s a combination you’ve never experienced.

when she gently runs a finger over the hood of your clit your hips jerk and you gasp.

“sorry! too much?” sana backs away quickly, hands raised so you can see she’s no longer touching you.

you inhale, forcing yourself to look at her, your gaze a little blurry, eyes lidded, “n-no. that was- g-good actually.” your voice is a lot scratchier than it was, you can’t believe how turned on you are from just minutes of being with her. “a-actually would it- um- are you allowed to take your gloves off? like if you want to! you don’t have to if you think it’s gross or anything i just think it could help a little so you can feel exactly where your skin and nails touch me.”

sana raises an eyebrow, seeming to consider you, and you want to crawl back into your pants, run away and never see be seen in public again the longer she takes to regard you.

but then wordlessly, she takes her gloves off, flicking them into the bin and reaching for the bottle of lube.

“oh um- you don’t have to. i’m wet enough i think.”

sana smirks then, squeezing some into her palm, “oh sweetie i know. remember what i said about lubing up anyway though? there can never be too much lube.”

you blush at the pet name, gritting your teeth when you feel the cool liquid and the soft touch of her fingers again. except this time it’s so much more real, you can feel every single brush, every stroke, every movement of her fingers against you. when she brushes against your clit again, you can’t help the faint moan you let out. your cheeks burn in embarrassment when you feel her still her movements against you. “s-sorry i-“

“it’s okay. you can make as many sounds as you want. just relax. stop thinking sweetie.” she brushes over your clit again, with a little more purpose this time, and you let out another whimper, trying to stop your hips from grinding against her hand.

the next few minutes are torturous. you're biting back moans every 2 seconds, focusing on keeping your hips solidly on the examination table, hands clenched tight together, you’re so wet you can hear the way she's sliding through your folds much more easily now, able to insert the entire length of her fingernail in with each stroke downwards. your breathing has gotten observably heavier, each inhale and exhale is strained, and you certainly couldn’t look at sana anymore, eyes glazed, just trying to focus on not giving yourself away.

"i’m gonna try go in again now okay?"

you nod, a little desperately, closing your eyes to block out the sight of her between your legs.

she gently prods at your entrance, now able to slide a knuckle in fairly easily, you feel like jelly around her, unable to control your own movements when you jolt downwards, sucking in more of her finger and moaning at the feeling.

“alright?”

“mhm just- just do it.”

“do what sweetie?”

“just- you know-“

“hmm?” she slips a little further in, and you clench around her, your muscles trying to trap her inside of you.

“f-fuck- i- yeah- fuck-“

she giggles a little and you flush, you realise again that she’s very attractive and very good with her hands and those hands are now inching even deeper into you, and before you know it, she’s got her entire finger buried inside of you.

you’re breathless at the feeling.

“painful at all?”

“n-no. not at all. feels- um- g-good.”

you can hear the smirk in her voice when she teases, “you feel good.”

you clench around her at the praise, unaware that sana’s trying her very best to stay as professional as possible, despite wanting so badly to rid you of all your clothes and fuck you until you were moulded to only be able to take her.

“relax baby. i’m going to slide back out now okay?”

you whine when you feel her retreating slowly, your walls gripping her finger, urging her to stay inside. but she comes out until just the tip of her finger is in you, and then pushes in again, filling you up deliciously.

you exhale deeply, back arching at the feeling.

“good?”

“fuck- so fucking good oh god-“

she’s pulling out and pushing in again, slow and careful, watching your body for any signs of pain and fixed on the way your face contorts in pleasure at the feeling of being sexually satisfied for the first time in months.

“think you can take another?” you peek open your eyes to find that sana looks slightly more dishevelled than before, her breathing also a little irregular now, her voice low with lust. you gulp at the sight.

“y-yeah.”

now that you've caught a glimpse of her, you can't look away, your eyes tracing the way her gaze is a little clouded, her tongue peaking out to wet her lips. then she's pushing in again with a second finger, rubbing your clit lightly with her other hand and pressing down onto the external parts of your folds to get you to loosen up.

you suck her in easily, whimpering a little when she stops and looks up at you in concern.

"k-keep going p-please- i can take it- fuck-"

so she continues her journey, pressing in deeper, and deeper, until she's able to fit two fingers snugly inside of you. you moan when she fills you up, pulsing around her, muttering curses and hands moving to hold onto the sides of the examination table.

but then, sana's pulling out again, and this time she doesn't come back. she clears her throat, moving towards the sink in her office to wash herself up.

you clamber onto your elbows hazily, completely soaked and watch in confusion as she dries her hands, her cheeks flushed.

"i think that's enough for today y/n. you can use the sink and this towel here to clean yourself up and get dressed. i'll wait for you outside." she doesn't spare you another glance and slips outside the room, closing it behind her to give you some privacy.

you take a second to recover because what the fuck just happened? you can only follow her instructions dumbly, picking up the towel she's left for you and cleaning yourself up, still incredibly sensitive when you twitch with each swipe along your folds. you put your clothes back on and rearrange your hair so that it doesn't look like you were just about to come mere minutes ago.

once you're tidied up and you've cleared your mind, or at least pushed all the lustful thoughts about being fucked into the table aside, you step outside the office, looking around to find that sana's with ben at the front desk, talking to the receptionist.

you clear your threat to announce your presence when you walk up to them. ben seems to have calmed down and he kisses your cheek sweetly when you sidle up next to him. you take note of the way sana eyes the action, her grip on the pen getting just a little tighter.

"alright y/n. i talked with ben to get an idea of your availability so i hope it's okay that i've booked you in for another session in about 2 weeks."

"yes that's fine!" your voice comes out unintentionally higher than you meant it to. the nerves and confusion hitting you at once.

"and i'll also set you a little homework. like we talked about, masturbation is key to getting better. so here's a self-care kit, it's got a clitoral vibrator and a few different dildo sizes as well as a couple of bottles of lube. i want you to try using the vibrator first, get used to the feeling of orgasming, and then start to bring in the smallest dildo. ben can watch if you want him to or help, but just remember what i said about making sex a positive experience. that's the main purpose of all of this, just relearning that sex is good and that it’s meant to be fun and enjoyable. i'll check with you in 2 weeks how the progress is going and we'll go from there. any questions?"

the entire time she talks to you, she barely looks into your eyes, it's clear she's already discussed all of this with ben who looks more than happy to be a bystander to your sexual pleasure if it meant he would be able to have sex with you later on. you find yourself a little disappointed that she won't acknowledge you. you shake your head no, and she slides you a few forms and the self-care package she mentioned, discreetly wrapped and in a cute little takeaway bag.

"great i'll see you in two weeks y/n. if you'll excuse me now." she sidesteps you and walks briskly back into her office, your eyes trail after her, but you shake the feelings from your head, refocusing on the present and the way ben has his arm wrapped around you.

❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

it's a fortnight later and you're sitting in a familiar waiting room, this time without ben because you convinced him to stay behind after his retaliatory actions the last time he was here. maybe you also just wanted to see sana alone but you weren't going to tell him that.

if you were being honest, sana hasn't left your mind once since you left the clinic two weeks ago. even when you were completing her assigned homework tasks, it wasn't broad muscles and rugged facial hair that you were thinking of, no matter how hard you tried, your thoughts always drifted back to the way sana had handled you so carefully, the way her fingers felt inside you, how she paid attention to every single reaction you made, every small sound, twitch, how attentive she was. and sometimes your thoughts drifted into territory that was a little more imaginative. those usually consisted of sana using the various toys she'd given you to bring you to heights you weren't able to bring yourself to.

"y/n?"

your head snaps up at the voice. you beam seeing her, she has her hair up today, pretty earrings and perfect features accentuated. she smiles in response at you, gesturing you to follow her to her office.

you settle into the familiar office again, much more relaxed and excited than the last time you were here.

"i see you're looking a lot more chipper than 2 weeks ago." sana comments with a smile, grabbing her notepad that you recognise from last week.

"just happy to see you again."

her smile fades a little at that, but you don't let that discourage you.

"right... so tell me how your fortnight has been. have you attempted to have sex with your boyfriend again? uh... bryson was it? or brendan?"

"ben. and no we haven't had sex again. i also took your advice and let masturbation be just a personal experience. he asked to watch and help but i told him it would be better if he didn't."

"that's good to hear. how has the masturbation been?"

"great! you were right! i've forgotten what having sex just for the sake of doing it for myself felt like. i've spent so long thinking i enjoyed it when i was really just an item for my partner's satisfaction. in a sense that brought me joy as well, being able to provide a source of happiness for them, but i realised that that's not a healthy thing to keep doing."

sana smiles genuinely, "very good y/n. i'm glad that masturbation has helped you realised that. how about your vaginal muscles? did you try using the dildos in the self care package?"

"um- yes i did but- i was actually hoping- uh-"

"hmm? what is it?"

"well i still haven't really been able to cum from using the dildos, only from the vibrator. it's not as painful anymore to put them in, and i'm still working up the sizes, but it still doesn't really feel good? like it just feels like there's something in me, it doesn't really derive pleasure or anything like that."

sana hums, thinking a little, writing down a few notes before closing her notepad. "would you show me?"

"i- um- sorry what?"

"how you've been masturbating. it may be something with the technique, but if it's something else more serious, i'd need to know about it."

"oh! yeah of course." you stumble upwards, repeating your movements from 2 weeks ago, stripping of your clothes, except this time, you take your top off as well.

sana yelps and turns around at your abrupt show of skin.

"something wrong sana?"

"oh- um- no nothing i just thought- um- i didn't think there was reason for your top to be off as well-"

"you wanted to see how i touched myself right? i generally try and stimulate my tits as well since my nipples are quite sensitive."

"right... yes of course." she turns around again, avoiding your gaze and looking to the floor, waiting for you to get on the examination table.

your lips quirk a little at how shy she's being, "is something the matter sana? you see naked bodies all the time in this line of work don't you? and you pretty much saw me naked last time as well..."

sana blushes even brighter, "um- well- yes but- most of my patients tend to be middle aged and they certainly aren't as attractive as you are."

"you think i'm attractive?" you're laid on the examination table now, head turned to the side so you can watch as the doctor fumbles where she's seated, still not looking at you.

"i- um- well- forgive me- i'm trying really hard to be professional right now and-"

"is that why you left in such a hurry during our last session?" you start trailing your hands over yourself, finding yourself easily aroused in the presence of the other woman.

"oh- um- well- yes i- i didn't want to make you uncomfortable-"

you moan gently when a practiced hand glides up to squeeze softly at a tit, the other sliding down slowly towards your centre. "you could never make me uncomfortable sana. well actually... i was only really uncomfortable when you left me so empty last time. i couldn't wait to go home and try out the toys you gave me, i haven't felt so turned on in so long and i needed to get that out of my system as soon as i could." you're trying to get a rise out of her, but everything you're saying is the truth anyway.

sana's eyes are on you now, wide and a little shocked at the words coming out of your mouth, and you revel in the way that meant her eyes now travelled your body. you try and angle yourself so she can see the way you squeeze at your breast, brushing over a nipple lightly with your palm and watching it pebble in reaction, your other hand dipping down to trace along your folds, finding that you're already dripping, the fact that the object of your sexual desires for the last 2 weeks is now only inches away from you, watching you touch yourself, driving you further off the edge of sanity.

"y/n..." sana's voice comes out almost 2 octaves lower than her usual register. you catch the way she wets her lips and crosses her legs.

"i'm so wet already i don't even need lube. and i know you kept saying to use it no matter what and trust me i did when i got myself off at home, but right now, just look-" you bring your hand up from between your legs, making an obscene display of licking your fingers and sucking on them, making sure she could see the arousal that coated your fingers.

sana's jaw tightens at the sight, she shuffles a little in her seat, unconsciously moving closer towards you.

"you don't have to worry about being unprofessional sana. i promise i want this just as much as you do right now." you slide your hand back down yourself, finding your clit easily after the practice you've gotten over the last fortnight, and rubbing circles around it.

"bold of you to assume i want this. this is my job after all." you leak at the register in her voice, it's something you've only been able to imagine in your fantasies.

"you don't want me?" you pout a little, turning onto your side so your entire body is facing her, your arm pushing your breasts together while a finger tugs gently on a nipple, your other hand still rubbing fast little circles into your clit.

sana chuckles darkly, her eyes closing, she seems to be trying to force herself to keep still.

"because just to be clear... i've thought about how you touched me every single time i came these past two weeks." your breath hitches when you recall the way you'd vigorously rub one out to her, sometimes multiple times a day ever since you started masturbating again. "i- oh fuck- no one has gotten me that turned on in such a short amount of time ever- nng- and i'd think about the way you felt inside me, and how careful and gentle you were- fuck- and then i'd think about how rough you could get as well- oh- and how i'd try and be so good for you- can you- can you pass me the dildo? i think i can slide the smallest one in now-"

she gets up from her seat wordlessly, exuding a dark aura that makes you clench your thighs in anticipation. she moves towards your bag, digging for the package and pulling it out, taking the smallest dildo and then moving back towards you. her pupils are blown, hungrily drinking you in, your fingers speed up just a little at the attention.

you reach out a hand mid-moan, asking for her to pass you the toy.

but she clicks her tongue, pushing your hand away gently and lubing up the toy herself.

you gulp, turning so you're laid flat on your back again, spreading your legs so she can see just how wet you were.

her eyes meet yours briefly, and you adore the way she checks in and makes sure you're okay with this, and you nod, giving her permission before she's sliding the dildo into you.

"oh shit-"

sana hums, pushing the little gold dildo in further, transfixed on the way your fingers move just a little rougher around your clit with every centimetre.

when she's completely inside you moan, clenching around the dildo, it was a comfortable size inside you.

"any pain?" her voice is rough, laced with barely concealed lust.

you whine, "n-no- you can move."

she starts pulling out, and it is almost painful the threat of being empty leaving you desperate, grinding down to try and keep her inside you, but she pushes back in, just a second faster this time and you moan unabashedly.

"f-fuck-" she starts up a rhythm, pulling out of you, then pushing back in, each time a second faster than the last.

you rub your clit, faster, harder, pulling on your nipple, switching to the other one to make sure both were attended to, you've never been built up this quickly. even when you were masturbating you had taken her advice and teased yourself for at least an hour before you got anywhere close to cumming.

you crave her, eyes lidded watching the way the veins in her arms become a little more visible when she thrusts in a little harder. you can hear the examination table shaking under you, you can't keep still at all, trying to meet her on each thrust, the tools and materials clattering about loudly. the possibility that someone could hear you outside flies across your mind but you can barely give it a second thought, in fact, it turns you on even more knowing that you were getting fucked by the most gorgeous doctor that you've been obsessed with the last fortnight, and on the other side of the door everyone was just going about their regular days, having no idea the heights of pleasure she was bringing you to.

"o-oh s-sana oh my god- holy fuck-"

"hmm? good?"

"yes yes so good- oh my god you feel so good inside me i'm gonna- oh fuck-"

"do you mind if i..."

you look down at her, vision a little blurry but you can tell she's asking to do something, "yes yes oh god- whatever- you can do whatever you want to me- oh fuck-"

you feel a soft hand come to rest on your stomach, sliding down to just a little below your belly button, and then it presses down just gently, "oh fuck!" your hips jolt upwards, pleasure running up your spine.

sana stops the pressure but keeps her hand on your lower stomach, "was that okay?"

"god yes- oh sana you're gonna make me cum please-"

so she presses down again, a little harder this time, and you feel the coil in you snap, white enroaching your vision, your thighs shaking, head tilted back, a high-pitched gasp leaving your mouth, feeling completely breathless.

sana waits for you to come down patiently, helping you through your orgasm, continuing her thrusts into your cunt but slower and much gentler.

eventually, you feel your back and hips meet the surface of the examination table under you again, breathing heavily and opening your eyes slowly.

sana's moved next to you, brushing strands of hair out of your face, you preen into her touch. but the next thing she does has you clenching tightly around the dildo that's still inside you. she brings her fingers to her mouth, sucking them in and making a show of wrapping her tongue around them. "exquisite."

you blush, clenching your thighs together at the sight.

she gives you a slow once-over again, before exhaling shakily and turning away, moving to the sink to clean up a little. you struggle a little to sit up, still recovering from your mind-shaking orgasm, and you're about to pull the dildo out of you when she speaks up again, still with her back turned to you.

"keep it inside you. that'll be your homework task for the next fortnight until our next session." she turns around, seeming to have collected herself a little better, her eyes fixed only on your face, purposely avoiding the rest of your body.

you sluggishly start to clean yourself up, wincing a little each time you accidentally move the dildo inside you.

"so you are able to come from penetration, you don't have to worry about that. and it's normal that you need some clitoral or other stimulation to be able to orgasm, often just penetration isn't enough. for the next fortnight i want you to continue masturbating, but i want you to practice leaving a dildo inside yourself afterwards, so your vaginal muscles get used to the feeling of something being inside. you can slowly work your way up the sizes, just don't push yourself and make sure you stop if it starts becoming too painful."

you nod, trying to bring your breathing back to a normal pace while you slip your clothes back on.

"alright. were there any other concerns you wanted to talk about?"

you shake your head, coming to a stand.

"okay. you can make the next appointment with the receptionist out front. i'll see you in 2 weeks y/n."

you nod, again, walking out the door when she opens it for you, but turning back before she can close it catching her a little by surprise, "thank you sana. i look forward to seeing you again soon." your voice is still a little scratchy but sana blushes, pursing her lips and nodding, closing the door after you.

you sigh a little dreamily, feeling more blissed out than you've been in a long time.

❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

this continues between the two of you for a few months.

you loved teasing sana and getting her out of her professional state. once you had worn lingerie under your coat to see her. you laugh remembering the way her eyes widened and her jaw dropped as soon as you took off your coat when you were in the privacy of her office. you'd let her fuck you however she wanted, and then you'd use each new experience to get you off during the fortnight that she'd give you new exercises, all increasing in intensity to help build you up to being able to take an average sized penis.

your favourite one to think about was that week that ben started complaining about how you'd been seeing sana for so long that surely you'd be able to take him by now. he insisted on coming to your next appointment but he was forced to sit outside and wait for you. little did he know you were on the other side of the door, a hand clamped over your mouth, the other holding you up against the door with your breasts pressed against it while sana railed into you from behind. of course she kept harnesses in her office. she had said they were mainly there for educational purposes, to show people how to put one on properly so it was safe and wasn't hurting anyone, it was just an added benefit that she also used them to pound into you with increasing dildo sizes each fortnight.

you lean onto your elbows while you watch her wash off the dildo she had just used on you. it was the biggest one yet and you're still fluttering a little remembering the way it filled you up while you rode her.

"what?" she turns around, drying off the dildo and slipping it back into your bag, pulling her shirt back on.

"just think you're nice to look at."

she rolls her eyes playfully, "shut up y/n."

you wiggle your eyebrows, "make me."

she glances at you, narrowing her eyes a little but making no effort to move closer, "as if you could go another round. you came so hard just then."

you giggle and sigh in satisfaction, resting your cheek on a hand, "i did. you're so good at what you do."

sana hums, finishing getting dressed and looking semi-presentable, settling back into her seat, but her expression changes a little while she studies you.

"what's up?"

"... have you tried having sex again with your boyfriend?"

"i told you i haven't."

she hums again, mind drifting elsewhere and you shrug, sitting up and starting to clean yourself up. "you can try now y'know? you were able to take that dildo and that's pretty much the average size of a penis already. unless he's bigger than that...?"

you scoff, shuffling into your pants, "no. he's actually smaller than the one you just used on me."

"then you should try having sex again."

you pull your shirt over your head, thinking over what she's saying. instead of sitting down in your own seat you climb into her lap, her arms wrapping around you automatically, hands gripping your waist while you make yourself comfortable. "doesn't that mean i won't be able to see you anymore?"

sana chuckles a little emptily, "i'm your sex therapist y/n. you knew this was going to end eventually."

"yeah but you don't fuck your other clients do you?"

sana laughs then, you feast in the sound. "no, no i don't."

"good. i was actually thinking..."

"hm?" she brings a hand up to your cheek, brushing slightly.

"would you... i don't know... like... i think about you when i get off yeah but i also think about you like... all the time..."

"mhm."

"so i was wondering if... i don't know if you felt the same if you wanted to like hang out outside of here? and like i don't mean to have sex i mean like go on a date maybe...?" you're shy, bringing this question up, blushing and avoiding her eyes.

"you have a boyfriend y/n." she deadpans.

"well yeah but i was thinking of breaking up with him anyway. now that you're bringing up having sex with him again i don't want that, and i don't want to stop seeing you. i guess just- just the threat that this all might be over soon- well i don't want it to be over. i like you sana." you say a little more firmly this time, meeting her eyes with decisiveness.

sana smiles then, all eyes, leaning in to peck you gently, "come back in a fortnight and we'll see. if you're no longer with him then... maaaybe i'll let you take me out."

your eyes brighten at her response, jumping out of her lap with excitement, "really?! oh my god i'll call him right now and do it-" you're reaching for your phone in your bag when she laughs, pulling you back into her

"don't do it over the phone silly. not even he deserves that."

you pout a little but its quickly wiped away when sana kisses you, lips slotting perfectly against yours with practiced ease. you sigh into her, addicted to the feeling, the taste, the smell of her. it was probably the easiest decision of your life, choosing your sex therapist over your boyfriend.

#sana #twice sana #minatozaki sana #sana x reader #twice x reader #sana smut #sana imagines #twice imagines #twice sana x reader #twice sana smut #royaltozaki

[antiquarianfics]

Accidental pt. 2

What happens when you accidentally kidnap the exact man you were looking for?

pairing: mob!bucky x reader

warning(s): canon level violence, kidnapping, profanity

a/n: the comments on the last pt. were so affirming, omg. thanks, guys. anyway, here's a second part. ig the same idea stands: if this does well, maybe i'll do a pt. 3?

part 1

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

"You're looking for a man by the name of Barnes, James Barnes. He's the owner of the bar you took me from, and he's the head of the Barnes Family. He'll have the answers you're looking for."

"Where can I find him?"

The man grins, a dashing smile.

“I’m right here, Doll.”

—

Somehow, against your instincts, you manage not to take a step back. You keep your feet planted in front of the man, eye twitching a little, jaw clenching.

“You’re James Barnes?” You say, voice devoid of any real emotion.

“Disappointed? Looking for someone less handsome?” He shoots you a cheeky grin.

You scoff. “More like I wasn’t expecting to kidnap a mob boss.”

James laughs, a genuine laugh. “No, I bet you weren’t. However, I do have to say, I’m impressed. Not just anyone can take me by surprise.”

“How long?” You ask, ignoring his praise.

“What?” He raises an eyebrow.

“How long until your men come looking for you? I expected more time, but with you being in charge…” You trail off.

“Ah, yes.” He glances down at the very expensive watch on his wrist. “Well, if it’s 11 now, I’d say… ah. 7 hours before anyone notices.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That long? Really? Are you sure you’re important?”

He grins at you, a dashing grin. You shake your head slightly. You shouldn’t be thinking about his smile right now--you shouldn't be teasing him.

“Very. But my people know not to bother me at night. What I do on my own time is my business. You’re in the clear as long as I show up on time to my meeting. If I’m not there... Well, then people begin to worry.”

You let out an involuntary laugh. “In the clear? You're telling me I’m going to get away with kidnapping you? Actually, don't answer that. You're baiting me, and distracting me. I need answers. Back to my sister. Where is she?"

"I was wondering if you'd forgotten about that."

"Answer the question," you say, stepping forward and putting your knife back up against his throat. It seems to do the trick.

James' face grows serious, as if the man in front of you was no longer playing around with you and had switched into his regular business persona.

"She's alive."

You let out a relieved breath. Alive is something. Alive is good.

"Where are you keeping her?"

"Well, doll, I can't just tell you that."

"Sure you can," you say, repeating your words from earlier.

He smirks, "Why don't you just take the knife away from my throat first? I'm precious goods."

You roll your eyes at him, but you pull the knife away. You hold the knife up to him as if to say I will pull this out again and set it down on the table a few feet away, and as you turn around, you pull a chair from the same table up to James, placing it right in front of him. You sit, an expectant look upon your face.

"Look, doll, why don't you just go ahead and untie me now that you've put that knife away, and we can have a friendly talk about this?" He asks.

You scoff, yet again. This man, you think, is insufferable.

"Try again, pretty boy."

"So you think I'm pretty?" He smirks.

"I think you're annoying, and I think you know where my sister is. So, how about you stop wasting my time and tell me what I want to know?"

He sighs dramatically and lets his head roll to the side as if he's bored before lifting it to look you directly in the eye.

"Like I said before, she owed me something she couldn't repay."

"What's that?"

"That information's gonna cost you, sweetheart."

"You're in no position to be negotiating right now," you say indignantly.

"Sure I am. Don't forget I'm the most powerful man in Brooklyn."

"Don't forget you're tied up and I have a gun."

"You wouldn't shoot me."

"Fucking try me, doll."

He laughs, a real, genuine laugh. "Agree to my terms, sweetheart, and I'll tell you anything you want to know."

You huff. "What are your terms?"

"'Atta girl!" He exclaims cheerily.

You grab your pistol from its holster at your side and aim it at the man in front of you, resting the gun on your thigh. He glances down at it before raising his gaze back up to you. He clears his throat, but something tells you it's not because he is nervous.

"Go on a date with me."

Your eyebrows shoot up. He's joking, you think. A date?

"A date?"

"A date."

"You want to go on a date with the woman who knocked you out, dragged you to an unknown location, tied you up, is demanding information from you, and is currently pointing a gun at you?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I have my reasons."

"How do I know you won't just kill me when I show up?"

"Because that wouldn't be very gentleman like of me. My mama raised me better."

"You're a mob boss. You extort and kill people for a living."

He shrugs. "Well, what do you say? Do we have a deal?"

"No," you say.

"No?" He asks, confused.

"I have my own conditions." James tilts his head slightly as a signal to go on.

"You've already confirmed that my sister is alive which confirms you have her locked up somewhere. You will let her go and forgive her debt for whatever the hell it is that she owes you. Do that and once she is safely at home and I've laid eyes on her, you can have that date. Do we have a deal?"

James is staring at you, and as much as you hate it, you can't read him. Your heart is pounding, and you're hoping, praying even, that you've not pushed too far.

"Deal."

You blink once, twice before it registers that he has accepted the deal. Damn, you think, he really wants that date.

"Have her home by... What time was your meeting again? 7? Have her home safely by 7 tomorrow," you say, standing up from where you sat in front of him. You begin to move around the basement, picking up your things that you had brought with you in the whole kidnapping ordeal. Once you've collected your things, you start walking towards the stairs to leave. "If she isn't there, the deal's off."

"You're just going to leave me here?" James asks, pulling at his arm restraints.

You look over your shoulder at him and smile at him. "You're a mob boss, doll, I'm sure you'll get out of there in time." Then, with that, you ascend the stairs.

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

@cjand10 @vicmc624 @mostlymarvelgirl @livingoutsidethetardis

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #marvel x reader #bucky x you #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fic #marvel angst #mob!bucky #mob!bucky x reader #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!au

[queenshelby]

Our Little Secret (Part 46)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Age-Gap, Triggers

A week had passed since your abrupt departure from Los Angeles with your daughter Mara, spending all your savings on an earlier economy class flight to Dublin. 

You had to get away from Cillian as quickly as possible for now, to clear your head, and to decide what your next steps would be. 

Cillian, of course, had begged you to stay while he attended a few more press events and interviews, but you didn't even wait for him to explain himself to you. Immediately after hanging up the phone with Amanda, you had stormed through the hotel suite, bursting into tears silently as you packed a small bag, preparing to leave.

Over the next few days, right after you took the long journey back home with Mara, you struggled to process everything that had happened. Cillian tried to call you over and over again, but you never answered his calls. 

You wanted nothing more than to scream, to cry, to break something—to do anything that would allow you to release the intense pain that he had caused, but you knew that Mara was depending on you.

***

"It's just you and me now babygirl," you whispered into Mara's ear one evening as you tucked her into bed, trying to embrace the role of a single mother bravely. After all, you always knew that this possibility loomed in the background, even when you naively thought that you were destined to be with him forever.

You couldn't believe how blind you had been, allowing yourself to fully invest in someone who had already shown you time and time again that he couldn't be counted on.

You couldn't stop thinking about the way he had looked at you, promising you a future together, making you feel cherished and loved, only to betray your trust in the most deceitful way.

You felt a hot tear trickle down your cheek as you buried your face into Mara's soft curls. It wasn't fair. You didn't deserve this pain, this heartbreak. But, as you listened to Mara's steady breathing, you knew that you couldn't give in to despair.

"Karma is a real bitch," you then thought to yourself, seeing how Cillian and you had started out as an affair too. He was cheating on his wife with you and now you were the one who was being cheated on. 

The raw pain cut through you like a hot knife, sharp and searing. Cillian's face flashed through your mind, taunting you with the broken promises and lies that only the innocent fall victim to.

Returning to the living room you noticed a vehicle parking outside on the street in front of your little terrace house. It was a small Crolla, a car that was very familiar to you and which belonged to no other than Cillian's sister Siobhan. 

You weren't expecting a visit from her, especially not in the wee hours of the night, but you didn't mind. She was one of the rare people you could count on these days even though she was a member of Cillian's family.

Quickly, you dried your tears and went to open the door. Siobhan stood there with a serious expression on her face.

"Hey," she greeted, but even her warm voice did nothing to mitigate the heavy feeling that pressed onto your heart still. "Can I come in?" she asked, and you stepped aside to let her walk past you.

You noticed that she was carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses in her hands. "I figured we could both do with a drink tonight," she added while she placed her possessions on your dining table.

You hesitated for a moment before closing the door and joining her. "You have no idea," you sighed, leaning against the back of one of the chairs.

Siobhan gave you a concerned look before pouring you a generous glass of wine. "Oh, I think I do. I saw Amanda today and, fuck, Cillian didn't even tell me about any of this because, if he had, I would have come to see you sooner Y/N. I am so sorry," she  muttered, exasperated.

"It's okay, really. There was nothing you could have done," you shrugged, sipping on the wine like it was water. It burned your throat as it went down, but it somehow made you feel a little better.

"No, it's not. I know how much this must have hurt you Y/N. My brother can be such an idiot sometimes, but he does love you, you know?" Siobhan told you, causing you to cry and laugh all at the same time.

"If he really loves me then , why did he cheat on me?" you asked, your voice cracking with emotion.

"Because he was hurt when you knocked down his proposal," Siobhan told you, explaining Cillian's turmoil to you. "And he acted impulsively which, really, is no excuse for what he did. It's just an explanation," she told you, but you no longer cared. 

"Well, it doesn't change anything now. I'm done with him," you informed her, your voice shaking a little as the reality set in.

"But-" Siobhan started to protest, but you stopped her.

"No. This is not what I want anymore," you sighed, running a hand through your hair as Mara slept peacefully in her bed upstairs. "I am better of alone and, honestly, our arrangement still stands. He will support me and Mara financially and he will get shared care, just like I had promised him. Nothing more and nothing less,"  you concluded firmly while taking another sip of your wine, watching Siobhan frown concernedly in return.

"You know Y/N, I never gave you enough credit in the past for how mature you actually are, especially for your age. You are much more of an adult than most of my clients and you are certainly much more mature than my almost fifty-year-old brother,"  Siobhan finally shared, but it wasn't enough to stop you from hurting still.

***

The following days passed slowly, with you trying to rebuild yourself and your life. It hurt like hell, to be back in the city that reminded you so much of Cillian and the times the two of you had spent together, but you didn't have much of a choice.

He came over one day to pick up Mara just as you had agreed upon when he came back from LA. Wen he arrived he also wanted to talk to you about what happened but you refused and did not even let him through the door. 

"No Cillian. Like I said in my text message last night, all that matters now is Mara," you told him face to face now that he stood in front of your door. "You can see her three days a week, no nights for now and I do not want any contact with you unless it relates to our child," you continued with a clear, firm voice, making a strict compromise so that he could spend at least a little time with Mara until she was ready to stay at his house over night. 

Cillian nodded and seemed surprisingly accepting of your conditions.

"Okay," he told you as you both stood at the front door of the house for a minute before Cillian finally reached out and gently touched Mara's cheek. 

"Do you want to take her while I get her pram and bag?" you offered to Cillian who, again, nodded silently.  With a heavy heart, you handed Mara over to the man that you loved dearly, but who had betrayed your trust.

Cillian took Mara into his arms and looked down at her happily as she babbled at him, giggling after he spoke her name. "She has grown so much even in those few days," he remarked, his voice thick with emotion. 

"She sure has," you told him. "Now, do you have enough milk in the freezer for her? I left some there the last time I visited you last. It's all dated and labelled, just make sure you heat it up right, okay?"  you added, trying to keep your voice steady and authoritative, even though you wanted nothing more than to break down and weep.

Cillian looked up at you with a pained expression on his face. "I will make sure to do that," he told you, tears welling up in his eyes.

You nodded and turned away from him before he could see the sadness creeping up on you. "Okay Cillian. I expect her back by seven. Don't be late," you said softly before pushing the pram and baby bag on to the front porch.  Cillian took them without a word and stepped outside. He looked at Mara again, a lingering longing in his eyes, a feeling that was all too familiar to you.

You closed the door softly and leant your head against it. The emptiness in the house suddenly felt bigger, suffocating almost. But you had to get used to it now. This was your life from now on.

***

The next few weeks were tough, but you made it through them with the support of Siobhan and your mother as well as your best friend Emma who suggested a night out while Mara had her first sleepover at Cillian's house, which was something that made you panic.

You never not had Mara with you over night, it had always been the two of you, or sometimes even the three of you. But, after careful consideration and speaking with Cillian about it, you finally agreed to it with a certain hesitancy.

As you stepped out of your house, ready to meet Emma for your long-anticipated girls' night, you took a deep breath and tried to remember who you were before Mara entered your life.

The thought caused a wry smile to grace your lips and, with a spring in your step, you continued down the path towards the small car that your friend drove as she picked you up along with some other girls from her class.

They were all about your age, but none of them lived the way you did. You were a single mother living in the suburbs while they were all single and sharing a flat in the city.

They were out partying and hooking up with guys while you were home, changing diapers and reading bedtime stories. They were having the time of their lives, while you often wondered if this was all that life had in store for you.

But as you slipped into the passenger seat of Emma's small car, you felt a sense of excitement that you hadn't experienced in a long time. You were ready to let loose and have some fun, and you knew that Emma and the others would make it an unforgettable night.

"Holy shit, you are looking good," Tina, one of the other girls you still knew from school days, remarked as she climbed into the backseat, and you couldn't help but feel a little boost to your confidence. You thanked her with a smile while Emma glanced at you from the driver seat, smirking triumphantly while you pulled out your phone to text Cillian, ensuring that Mara  was comfortable and okay.

"She will be fine, Y/N. She is at her dad's house, remember? He is old enough to look after her. You need to stop worrying," Emma assured you as she navigated through traffic, making her way into the heart of Dublin, where the bustling nightlife came alive.

"I know, it's just -" you started to mumble but then stopped, letting out a quiet sigh. You couldn't deny the fact that leaving Mara behind on her first sleepover with Cillian was hard. It was unfair, you thought, that parents shouldn't experience the pang of abandonment when it comes to leaving their child behind while Tina chimed in, quickly changing the topic after Emma told you again that Mara would be just fine. 

"Hey Y/N. I am curious. Does he pay for your house and car?"  Tina asked, a hint of jealousy tinging her voice. You weren't close to her, but you knew that, especially after your public appearance at the Oscars, which had now been almost ten weeks ago, many of the girls you knew had been talking about nothing else but you and Cillian. After all, he was super famous now and you had his child and not many women could claim that status.

"Well, yes he does, because I am a student, just like you Tina," you replied, suppressing the irritation in your voice. "And we had a child together, so it seems fair," you justified yourself and feeling a little nervous about exposing too much information and stirring up unnecessary envy among your former classmates.

"I suppose you have it easy then," Tina said, still showing an envy-filled tone in her voice. "My mother never even got child support from my dad,"  she added, causing a heavy silence to fall over the car as Emma glanced at Tina sternly in the rearview mirror.

"Things are different now, Tina. Cillian is -," Emma chastised but, before she could continue, you interrupted her. 

"Can we just stop talking about my ex now and focus on our night out?" you requested, hoping to steer the conversation in a different direction.

Emma nodded in agreement and changed the topic, talking about her last date and the awkward ending that it had while the girls in the back seat listened attentively and added their own commentary on the subject, making jokes and trying to make each other laugh.

You tried to focus on the conversation but couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of sadness as you thought about Cillian and the life you had once imagined for yourselves.

You had hoped to grow old together, raising Mara and making memories as a happy little family, but fate had other plans.

Your mind wandered as you entered a crowded dance club, clinging to your drink as you tried to push aside the thoughts that threatened to consume you. The beat of the music pulsed around you, vibrating in your chest as you moved to the rhythm, trying to lose yourself in the seductive sounds filling the air.

But the despair that tugged at your heart wouldn't let you go, no matter how hard you tried to shake it off.

It clung to you like a persistent shadow, a constant reminder of what you had lost, and you pulled out your phone again, texting Cillian, to see whether Mara was fine.

He quickly responded, of course, telling you that she had already fallen asleep and that he was having a great time, spending time with her. It was then, in the dimly lit club, that you realized that this was your new reality, which is when, suddenly, a young attractive man bumped into you, spilling his drink all over your black dress.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! Here, let me help you clean this up," he said, sprinting away to the bar and returning with a wad of napkins and a sympathetic smile.

The unexpected kindness in his large, green eyes touched you somewhere deep within your soul, and you couldn't help but feel a tiny spark of warmth and attraction ignite between you.

"Thank you," you murmured as you took the proffered napkins, still feeling the anxious tension of uncertainty in your stomach after receiving Cillian's text about your adorable daughter sleeping soundly in his arms and it was then when he even sent you a photo of her, a gesture which you appreciated. 

Just as you looked at the phone the man nodded with a reassuring smile, his eyes sparkling with interest and curiosity as, at the same time as handling your phone, you nervously tried to dab the spilled liquid from your dress without causing further damage.

"You look like you're having quite the night here," he persisted, attempting to keep up a friendly conversation as you glanced at your phone before putting it back into your handbag. 

"Yes, I haven't been out in a while," you replied, smiling at the stranger's persistence as he still stood there, looking at you. 

"Really?" he asked. "Why?" he asked, genuinely surprised by your admission as you continued to wipe away the residual drink stain on your dress.

"Well, I had a baby -," you began to say before shaking your head, realizing that this must have been the worst pick up line ever.  The man blinked a few times, his eyebrows shooting up towards his unkempt brown hairline, but he didn't falter. Instead, he dug his hands into his jeans pockets and rocked back on his heels, a friendly half-smile on his lips.

"You had a baby? For real?"  he inquired inquisitively, maintaining a friendly and interested facial expression. "I mean, you don't look a day over twenty-one," he complimented you.

"Well, I am not," you chuckled. "I am twenty-one, actually," you  confessed, feeling vulnerable and exposed all of a sudden.

But the stranger, who introduced himself as Sean, only seemed more intrigued. "Wow, you had a baby already? That's impressive," he admitted, hoping he hadn't dwelled too much.

You nodded, flustered by the attention. "It's not easy but, hey, life happens," you shrugged, determined to keep it light.

"I assume you don't have kids?" you asked, curious, wondering out loud without considering the fact that this topic might be slightly weird for a twenty-something year old man.

"No , I don't. Not yet anyway," he answered with a small laugh, shaking his head ever so slightly, causing his mop of hair to bounce wildly on his head.

"Well then, I guess I just told you way too much about me, huh?"  you asked, feeling a hint of shame creep up your neck and onto your face.

Sean smiled at you genuinely and kindly, his eyes fixing on yours, a connection forming between you two. He shrugged.

"Not really. I mean, you know, things happen and I -," the man began to say before awkwardly telling you about himself. "I am 27 and just finished a degree in engineering. I only just moved to Dublin a few weeks ago and, uhm, I am single and would really like to buy you a drink, if you let me," he stammered. "Unless, of course, you actually have a man in your life, because you had a baby and stuff, so if the father is around then forget about what I just said,"  he added, catching a whiff of disappointment in his voice.

You smiled and shook your head. "My daughter's father is out of the picture," you told him honestly, softening your eyes as you observed him moving closer to you. 

"Great, so what are you drinking?" he asked and, with that, you knew where this was going.

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred @blondie-22

#cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy fic

[suns-pott]

A caged bird.

Word count: 808

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

"Ah, you're already awake, my dear."

He greeted you with that same infuriating smile, as he did every morning. His hand slithered around your shoulder as you sat by the window, your only way of seeing the outside.

"Why am I here?"

He flinched at your question, a slight twitch of anger, his wings fluttering slightly. "Angel, I have told you why."

"That's not good enough, you have to give me a real reason. I don't want to hear any more excuses about 'love' or 'safety'." You retorted back, turning around to face him. He ran a hand through his silvery hair, the locks still perfectly framing his face as usual. His voice sounded restrained, a small frown forming in his expression. "Darling, I have told you before, I don't want you going out there, it's far too dangerous."

"But you never elaborate on that any further, give me the real reason, Sunday." You turned away from the window to face him with a determined expression, his eye twitching in annoyance. "Drop it, Y/N."

He hasn't called you by your name in months, your words must have struck a chord with him, his stern expression stilling any words that could have formed on your tongue. You look down, gazing at his shoes instead, though he soon grabbed your chin with his thumb and index finger, pulling your head up, his expression softening once your eyes met his. "There is no need to worry, angel. I have been blessed with less work to do today, so I will return early this evening." He planted a small peck on your cheek, his heels tapping on the carpeted floor as the door closed with a click.

Three months, two weeks, three days, thirteen hours and nine minutes. That is how long you have been stuck in this room. Now that he is gone, you started your daily routine of looking for a way out, starting with the front door. Your hand pressed on the handle, and it surprisingly clicked open, revealing the rest of the Reverie hotel to your sight.

Your legs moved before your mind could, quickly walking out to see an odd sight. Though it looked like the hotel at first, the one in reality, it appeared to be quite the contrary. Dream bubbles floated around, furniture hung in the air, and no one was around. But, you thought he took you back to reality, the room certainly looked like it, but he kept you in the dream after all?

You ran through the hall, looking for any possible exit, a way out of this nightmare. Trying any door you came across, almost all of them were locked. Except for one, a door that led you out into what appeared closest to the lobby of the hotel, with more doors on the sides. You approached one, opening it and walking inside. The room appeared closest to the lobby of the- wait, the same room? You tried a different door, the one to the left of you, that one leading right back to the same room. You tried yet another door, that one leading right back to the same room, again. You felt tears welling in your eyes, continuing to run, you sprinted past each door you opened, though the result was always the same.

Your lungs felt as though they were on fire, your legs were sore and heavy as lead; though you persisted, looking for an exit at any cost. Eventually your body collapsed out of exhaustion, panting heavily as you lay on the ground. The only thing you had energy to do was cry. Pulling your knees into your chest as you buried your face in them, tears spilling from your eyes, until you felt a hand on your shoulder. You looked up, sniffling as you spotted the man who was the cause of your tears.

"Sunday..." You said in a meek voice, slowly sitting up to meet his sorrowful yet angered gaze. He pulled you into his embrace, lifting you up in his arms.

"Darling, what were you thinking? Running off on your own, you could have come across serious danger. Thankfully I had some precautions in place, to ensure you didn't wander too far." He released an exasperated sigh, his brows slightly furrowed, beginning to walk back towards the room you had previously been trapped in. "How did you know?" Your voice was barely a whisper, never daring to look in his eyes, though in the bleak silence of the room, he could still hear you perfectly. "Do you really think I wouldn't notice your absence? Come now, you are my pride and joy, I don't know what I would do without you. You're my angel, I must protect you to keep your presence at my side, even if it means clipping your beloved wings."

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Based on this fanart it's so fucking good omg

#honkai star rail #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr #hsr #hsr x reader #sunday #penacony #penacony hsr #penacony honkai star rail #yandere sunday #yandere sunday x reader #yandere hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader

[brunette-bitch77]

ɢᴏᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴀɪʀ ᴅᴏɴᴇ, ɴᴀɪʟꜱ ᴅᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ!

╰┈➤ A new outfit and your Fendi shoes ᡣ𐭩

For when your man sees you after you ran your "errands," AKA getting a blowout, mani-pedi, and anything else you might've needed done. Who is he to resist when his chick looks so good? (Songfic inspired by Jumpin' Jumpin' by Destiny's Child.) Toji Fushiguro/Zen'in x transfem!reader (pre-Mamagumi because you are Mamagumi) Includes: Toji Fushiguro (might add more chars later! this is just me testing the waters)

╰┈➤ It's a well known fact that Toji Zen'in doesn't come from a whole lot of money (well, he does; he was just abused and kicked out by said money), but that was never an issue for the man when it came to making it. He could earn plenty of money other ways such as taking up odd jobs, carrying out bounties, etc. So when he started dating your high maintenance self, he knew he'd have to up his earnings in order to provide for you (partner lemme Upgrade U). He's a simple man after all - why wouldn't he wanna provide for you, even if it was just by giving you a few hundred dollars to run your errands? Quite possibly the only thing that he kept from his family was his provider mentality. Never again would he see someone close to him suffer or starve because of his shortcomings.

Hearing the car pull into the lot, Toji knew it was you when you came home from the music that he could hear through the walls—that infectious late 90s beat creeping through his veins. He paused the MMA fight he was watching, turning around as the door hinges creaked open.

"Tojiii, I’m home!" you sang from the doorway, putting your keys away in your cute little Dior saddle (the one Toji got you after saving up several paychecks). Toji walked over with a big grin on his face, encircling his arms around your body out of habit. "Uh-uh, don't touch the hair just yet," you piped up, putting your hands in front of him to stop him from getting too close to you and potentially ruining your perfect hair.

Toji couldn't help but let out a laugh and shake his head. "C'mon, doll, just lemme give you a kiss," he said in that deliciously raspy voice of his. You reluctantly obliged, letting him put his hands on your hips, pull you in for a kiss, and sigh into it. "Now, let's see those nails of yours," he added with a big grin on his face, taking both of your hands and holding them up.

He let out a low whistle. "Damn, baby, that's a good manicurist ya got there. I should give them a big fat tip for keeping my girl so cute." The design in question were pink, blue & yellow nails with some hibiscus flowers & a cute little anime reference here & there (insert your fav Shōjo)—a perfect set for the summertime.

You let out a giggle, pulling your hands back and laughing at him. "Okay, okay, you can touch the hair," you relented, turning your head for extra effect.

"Right, the perfect hair that you don't wanna fuck up” he murmured, shaking his head. "I'm like a bull in a china shop, eh?"

"Yeah, 'cus you're a big brute," you snarked, making him smack you on the ass out of jest. He was a brute, but he knew how to be careful around you. "Nah, but for real, doll, you look fuckin' fantastic," he said in a more serious yet complimentary tone. "That bounce in your hair makes you look mighty fine."

You allowed him to run his hands through your silky, freshly-washed hair, reveling in the way his fingers felt on your scalp. "Feels even better with ol’ Toji’s fingers in it, yeah? I could touch this shit alll day long." He put his hands up when you shot him a look at that statement. "Or... for as long as you'll let me."

His hands left your scalp, only to trail down your cheek, all the way onto your chin. "Can I kiss you, princess?"

"Mhm," you murmured, bringing a scarred smile to his handsome face. He leaned in, giving you a slower, more passionate kiss than before.

"Fuck... y'lip gloss tastes so yummy," he murmured against your lips. "I can't get enough of you, y'know baby? My pretty little princess... I should show you off when you get all this shit done, make everyone 'round the block jealous."

"I was actually gonna go out with my friends later today," you piped up, pulling away slightly. "I was listening to Jumpin' Jumpin' earlier, and it made me wanna go out."

Toji didn't look disappointed at this news; rather, his smile widened. "Yeah? You havin' a girls' night?" He asked, eyebrows raised slightly. You nodded, shooting him another smile.

"Y'know, blowouts last a few days, especially when they're done by a real professional like the one I've been going to for six years. Plus, I know how to upkeep it on my own."

Toji chuckled, shaking his head. "I knew those hair products were for somethin'. Nah, I'm not upset or anything, baby; I'm happy for you—happy that you've got a nice group of girls to hangout with. You deserve it all, sweetheart. The cute outfits, the fun friends; and the sexy boyfriend of 'yers." He couldn't help but reach out and grab your jaw softly, rubbing it and eliciting a big, blushy smile from you. "Aww, would you look at that pretty smile? Love it when you smile like that. I don’t get why you used to be so insecure ‘bout it."

You pulled away once again, not wanting it to go any longer and lead to anything too sweaty. "I promise I'll come right back home afterwards. I won't give any random guys an opportunity to shoot their shot with me," you reassured him. "Y'know, I think you might've domesticated me in a way, Toji. I'm always looking forward to coming home to you after everything's said and done."

"Yeah?" he asked again, amused by your admission. "Well I'm glad, baby. We go together real well, hm?" He couldn't resist the urge to pull you in with both of his arms around your waist, nuzzling his lips into your neck. "I'm already looking forward to your homecoming, princess. I wanna feel those nails raking up and down my back."

"Toji, stop!" You said with a giggle. "You're gonna flatten my hair at this rate." "Oh, yeah? Y'know, even with flat hair, you'd still be the prettiest girl in the room. To me at least." Toji left one last kiss on your neck before letting you go, watching as you picked up the shopping bags on the floor.

"I need to go... put these clothes away before they wrinkle," you said, struggling to balance all the bags on your arms.

"Please, lemme help you," he said, grabbing the bags for you and carrying them to your shared room. He pushed the door open, carrying the bags as if they were light as air, setting them down outside of the closet. "I dunno know why you buy all that stuff if you can barely carry it. What would you do without your boyfriend?" he asked cockily.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head just a little. "Thanks, baby," you said gratefully, pressing a kiss to Toji's cheek.

"Anytime." He eyed the bags curiously, wondering what could possibly be inside of them. A new pair of Manolos? A new dress? He would never admit it, but he loved it when you shopped and bought new things. You always had impeccable taste, and he adored the way you put yourself together. "So, doll," he finally said after mustering up the courage. "Mind letting me see what you got?"

┆ ┆ ┆ ┆⋆ Mini-skip

Toji made sure that you made good on your word that night regarding trying out your nails. He didn't waste a single time welcoming you home after your girls' night out, taking you right up to your shared bedroom with a grin on his face, sloppily kissing up your neck and peeling off your dress.

Right now? He was all but plowing you into the mattress, as he always did when he fucked your brains out. "Fuck, baby," he growled, looking down at you as he made sweet, sweet love to you. "You always look so... fuckin' good underneath me like this, but that blowout just adds the finishing touch. Even if your... hair's all fucked up, I'll take you to the salon for another one."

You, meanwhile, weren't able to process what he was muttering into your ear. You probably couldn't even discern if he was calling you a whore or asking you to marry him; it just felt so good.

"Fuck, oh, fucking fuck, T-Toji!" You moaned into his ear, moaning and writhing about underneath the big brute's frame.

Toji let out a breathless chuckle at your incoherent babbling. "Never heard you say 'fuck' so many times in one sentence - maybe I could make you say it a few more times!"

He readjusted the angle at which he was snapping his hips into your ass, fucking you even deeper as if that could even be possible. "Feel my dick inside of ya? Rearranging your guts? Shiiit, doll, take it like you mean it. Gonna stuff ya full of my fucking cum, you won’t be able to strut 'yer shit anymore,” he drawled, slapping your jiggly ass with his calloused fingers.

He picked up on the way that you were holding onto him, your hands gripping the muscles that lined his broad back. "Such a bully," you whimpered, "quit bullyin' me, Toji! Y’know I can’t take it when you- you pound me like this!!" You complained, tears welling up in your eyes. He let out a laugh at your pleas, cooing into your ear. "C'mon, baby; I'd never bully you. I don't think bullying involves making you cum over and over again now, does it?" He cocked his head, smiling like a devil at the sight of you so fucked out because of just a few hip movements. "Besides, you know how to take it. I’ve trained you to take this dick. Remember how you could barely move when we first started dating? Shit, I'm the best tutor there is.”

After a few more huffs and strokes of the cock, he asked: “Why don't you... drag those nails down my back, yeah? Leave a few marks on my muscles?"

You eagerly obliged, raking your nails up and down his muscled back. "Yeah, that's it, there you go, my sweet baby. Make my back fuckin' bleed baby girl," he praised, purring into your ear. He threw his head back, the slightly painful scratching making him even harder and hornier (as if that was even possible).

He threw his head back then looked back down at you. "I'm gonna fuck you 'til my back's bloodier than a mary."

Suffice to say, he loved your nails.

© ʙʀᴜɴᴇᴛᴛᴇ-ʙɪᴛᴄʜ77 on tumblr - get your own shit bitches | ca. 6/5/2024

#toji fushiguro x reader #toji smut #toji x reader #toji x you #toji zenin #jjk toji #jjk x reader

[ikamigami]

How can y'all be angry at Sun feeling disappointed in Moon?

Like Sun is traumatised from Old Moon's abuse and all he sees is Moon acting the same way..

Y'all should feel proud that he's still willing to help Moon despite that this situation triggers his trauma..

This is what I meant by people minimizing Sun's trauma from Old Moon's abuse.. cause now they think that Sun is giving up on Moon?!

Where? Where he's giving up? He came with a plan to stop Moon and wanted Jack to find him which he did and you call it giving up?

After what Sun went through with Old Moon he has every right to tell Moon "screw it".. like yeah we still don't know what he'll tell him but be real with me.. Sun definitely sees the similarities between his situation and Moon's so he'll definitely try to help Moon.

He's willing to help Moon by trying to be calm and not emotional like he used to while he's affected by his trauma.. like be serious.

Sun has every right to be disappointed in Moon. But he's good and caring brother because despite his trauma and all the shit he went through he still tries to help Moon. Because he isn't giving up on him!

Why Sun told Moon that he likes him better than Old Moon? Because Moon was trying to be a good brother! And Sun appreciates that cause this is all he ever wanted from Old Moon. So you need to understand how much Sun is hurt by this situation.. this is what Sun feared the most that Moon will start acting like Old Moon!

The worst is that Sun didn't even talk with Moon yet and yet people already say that Sun gave up on him..

Y'all really so unserious.

#sun and moon show #sams #sams sun #sams moon #laes #laes spoilers #sams jack #sams spoilers #tw trauma #tw abuse

[grimeclown]

its really harmful to think people upset by incest prn arent advocating for this in real tangible ways offline. ive raised thousands of dollars for anti rape + incest crisis groups and i have called out many many users for fetishing it. most of those people have been cis. if someone happens to be trans and is doing the same thing that i genuinely advocate against am i seriously supposed to just pretend its fine? i am being entirely serious right now, what is the answer? bc so many users have started acting like people like me only 'come after' trans girls but cast a blind eye to the very real and common similar callouts that have been going around """""anti""""" blogs for a while against majority cis women and posts about cis men fetishising step siblings etc.

this is a completely genuine question like i really dont know what the line is here

I literally did not make the comment on my post that you're replying to. You're prompting me to elaborate on a point I did not make.

I will say again: charlotte was not an "avid incest poster" she made. One single joke abstractly invoking the concept to talk about music. I'm not going to entertain a "wheres the line" conversation about this because the entire point is that these lines are being drawn more harshly to ostracize and punish trans women.

I don't care about your personal guilt over spreading callout posts for trans women because op really swears the evidence is real this time and not sourced from kiwifarms

[builtaworldwithyourlove]

I Forget Where We Were

1.4/ joel miller x f!reader / MINORS DNI 

summary: life with Joel from the start. Be kind please- this is my first piece and has taken 6 months of courage🤍

Chapter Nine: Conrad

Oh, I loved you with the good and the careless in me. 

what to expect: Sunday dinner for the Millers with an unexpected guest. One is human and one is tabby with four paws. 

warnings: bad language i guess idk?😂fluff, dad!joel,lover boy joel, no specific physical description of reader, female reader (please let me know if there is anything I’m missing, I will elaborate as the series goes on) no outbreak, age gap (reader is mid 20s and Joel is mid 40s), boyfriend!joel? i repeat boyfriend!joel, wholesome Sundays, toothache inducing sweetness, cute baby kittens

    · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

‘I think it’s going to rain today’ Sarah sipped her orange juice and ate her pancakes, with a sudden air of concern and adult-like observation.

‘Nope baby, it’s a hot forecast, Uncle Tommy and his new girlfriend are round today, dinner outside again’ Joel clapped his hands as he made the obligatory dad remark of being 100% certain what the weather is like.

You woke up feeling slightly worse for wear, with the tight squeeze in the bath tub, the new prospect of moving in with Joel and Sarah, the excitement of a kitten and the bottles of red wine haunting you.

‘I’m gonna head home and grab my stuff for the week. I’ll be back soon, I love you both.’ Before you left, Joel handed you 100 dollars and you grabbed the cat collar before Sarah noticed it.

‘Daddy what is that for? She has money you know?’ Joel rolled his eyes, realising the torture that came with a daughter who was always a step ahead and way too observant.

‘How do you know what kinda money she has, now then little lady?’ Joel rested his hesd on his fist and leant over the breakfast bar, ready to be amused by Sarah’s answer, which was bount to encapsulate your entire personality.

‘No one needs that many claw clips, and she doesn’t let her handbags go anywhere near the floor.’ Sarah was deadly serious, but Joel belly laughed, so excited about building your vanity here and having your handbags on display.

‘Well, maybe I felt like being nice.’ Joel shut the conversation down. He was not ready to try and give child answers to adult questions.

   · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Joel was right. A hot Sunday it was. You wore a cream linen co-ord, shorts with a long sleeved button up shirt. Paired with your iconic matching bow, oversized tote and Birkenstocks.

You:

We’re gonna make great pawrents.

Joel:

I should break up with you for that.

You:

You have no right. 

Joel:

I’ll put a real baby in you instead.

You:

Jesus. Not even 10am yet. At least let me have my second coffee.

You pulled up to the pet store and got all you needed for the new Miller addition. You laughed when you saw Joel had drawn a pawprint on one of the bills.

Next door was a rescue store, and you went in on the hunt for the perfect kitten. 

The volunteers were so helpful and sweet. They asked if you had children, who was home during the day and took address details and asked how the neighbourhood was. They took you through to the cats- you were in heaven. 

You were matched with a tiny 11 month old tabby. Her name was Nova, and she was perfect with children with bags of energy, but with a docile, gentle side which made her a lapcat of an evening.

They did the final checks and paperwork, and you were able to take Nova home. She mewed in her carrier for the entirety of the journey, and her tiny paws poked through the gaps in the carrier, followed by a teeny pink nose and angry kitten teeth.

You called Joel and told him you were 5 minutes from home, and to get Sarah ready.

   · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

You let yourself in, and carried Nova through. She ran laps around the pen you set up in the living room, and then eventually fell asleep on her blanket.

You went out the back to find Joel and Sarah tidying up the plants, and taking off the leaves that had gone yellow, and repotting the dahlias. 

Joel leapt up so quickly he saw stars, and Sarah bounded down the garden to cuddle you,the usual greeting you were given.

‘What would make your Sunday better?’ Joel asked

‘No school tomorrow?’ Sarah blushed knowing she was hilarious.

‘Okay what else?’ Joel rolled his eyes.

‘Ice cream?’ Sarah laughed again.

‘Okay I’m impatient. Follow me and Daddy’ you skipped through the kitchen and turned and made Sarah jump by shushing her.

She went giddy and Joel instantly fell in love with the pint sized baby that laid asleep in the sun beam on the floor.

Sarah squealed with excitement as she tiptoed over to Nova. Nova woke up and she rolled on her back and did a big stretch. Sarah delicately tickled Nova’s belly and Nova jumped to all fours and ran round Sarah, picking up a mouse toy in her mouth and dropping it by her lap.

‘She’s so fluffy, I love her so much. Thank you’ Sarah started to cry, unable to process the emotions that came with your first pet at a young age.

You and Joel were emotional wrecks, watching what was possiby the most wholesome moment in your lives. Joel wrapped his arm round you and you leaned into him. 

‘You did good baby’ he whispered as his lips touched the top of your head.‘Everything I’ve ever wanted in one room’ 

The wholesomeness was soon interrupted by Tommy, bursting his way through to the front room. 

‘I bought company, hope you don’t mind one more’ Tommy lead the new love interest in by her wrist and made her do a twirl. Your jaw dropped. You both squealed in unison and ran to eachother.

‘Laura, you dirty dog’ you pretended to gasp and be disgusted, but your bestfriend and basically brother-in-law, it was a blessing.

‘He dropped me home Friday night and I couldn’t get him to leave’ Laura giggled as Tommy playfully smacked her ass.

‘Uncle Tommy, meet Nova. Hi you’re pretty’ Sarah couldn’t stop to answer questions about the furry addition, too distracted by trying to wrap your best friend around her little finger too. 

Tommy played with Nova, and she clamped her paws round his wrist and they wrestled.

‘Right, let’s go grab a drink’ Joel attempted to restore some order. Kittens, friendly reunions, two smart ass independent women. The Millers were in deep.

     · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

You all caught up and debriefed on the events of Friday night, the proposal Joel had and Laura and Tommy’s newly found spark.

After plates and plates of chicken Caesar, steak, fries and homemade cookies, mixed with sangria and beers, you all collapsed in the living room on the sofa. You and Laura did Sarah’s bedtime routine before school tomorrow and then joined the boys downstairs after you all kissed her goodnight.

Nova snuggled up next to Sarah on her pillow, and Laura took a polaroid and propped it next to Sarah’s nightlight. How did you all get so lucky to find eachother? Sarah would never come up short in her life, you all loved her fiercely.

You and Laura shared the armchair, with the type of friendship where you had very little boundaries, but also due to the fact you couldn’t finish a conversation without Joel and Tommy moaning you were shouting across the room to eachother whilst they tried to watch the big game.

Laura shotgunned all the pieces of clothing that you were talking about decluttering, seeing as you would have to find a way to fit a 2 bed apartment, overrun with your belongings, around Joel and Sarah’s life, without intruding.

    · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Joel and Tommy finally made it through the game with no interruptions, as you and Laura were banished to the armchair and inevitably fell asleep holding wine glasses. You were both lightweights and prone to exhaustion following high levels of excitement.

In true manly, criminal fashion, they turned the big light on and you both jumped up, grouchy and rudely awakened.Tommy was going to drive Laura home, and you planned your schedules to line up tomorrow whilst hugging goodbye.

‘Look after her’ you warned Tommy, lightheartedly of course.

‘I wouldn’t dare hurt my girls’ Tommy winked playfully and Joel stood behind you with his forearm coming over your shoulder and draping over your chest.

Joel wrapped the lengths of your hair round his hand, as you shut the front door, and held it firmly as he kissed you.

‘What a weekend baby, I’m exhausted, and far too drunk for a Sunday’ he slurred his words ever so slightly, and his eyes were heavy. 

‘Let’s be asleep by 10pm and then it doesn’t count’ you scrunched your nose and kissed him.

‘Come on then baby. We’ve got a busy week coming up.’

Previous Chapter

Final Chapter

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[foreverisntenough]

‘OURS’

Summary: You were his and he was yours but what would it be like adding one more? Thrust into a whirlwind romance you never could’ve imagined that became your forever love. You continue building a new life across the pond with a very beautiful Scouser. A sequel to the ‘You’re Mine’ fic.

INDEX

Warnings: This series will contain fluff, suggestion, smut (unprotected sex,) pregnancy, parenting, self doubt, body image, mention of the word ‘daddy,’ kind of angsty, alcohol consumption - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! Try not to nitpick with any real pregnant/ baby logistics it’s better if you just read along happily :)

Chapter 17 - In Love With Her | ‘Ours’

“I know this isn’t true but I feel like I haven’t been out to a club in time” You giggled when you got shoved by a group of girls shuffling by. Trents face pulled into immediate annoyance almost anger swiftly pulling you tight to him protecting you from the crowds but his emotions shifted when his focus came back to you.  

“That’s not true, we went out in Vegas last month, baby. You don’t remember? I met you in the bathroom and I…” Trent began to remind you of your escapade on your trip for George’s birthday. You definitely remembered.  You definitely were still thinking about it too.

“Yes, Yes, I remember. Thank you, cheeky boy.” You rolled your eyes at him. Trent moved his arm next to your head, hand planted behind you on the wall. He caged you in. Just being this close in proximity to him was intoxicating. You felt drunk but you really didn’t think you were, maybe it was just him. He dragged his thumb over your glossy lips and your breath hitched before he leaned in to kiss you. Your back was plastered against the cool pillar behind you. You honestly couldn’t even remember the name of the club you were in. Everything had gone fuzzy. Seeing Trent illuminated in the colored lights of the club had your mind melting remembering all the times you’d been in one before with him. His effect on you was permanent. It would never fade. It was just the same now as it was the first night at the club you went to the first day you met in New York. 

“Do you ever think you want that?” Jude asked Lauren as they tucked into a velvety couch in the roped off area with two drinks. 

“What? Trent licking my neck? No.” Lauren joked with a serious face eyeing you and Trent still making out where they left you last. 

“Laur…” Jude cooed trying to be serious. She turned to actually look at him. Lauren wasn’t going to assume anything right now but she felt it all night. Tonight was rubbing what she assumed to be a non relationship in her face. She didn’t know what to say other than a joke. Lauren and Jude were together a lot. Lauren was at his house more often than she was at her own. Jet setting around, her holidays conveniently booked by Jude in the same locations as Real Madrid's away games. They were dating and tonight was a double date. They just needed to say it. “Like the dating thing…” Jude clarified for her but Lauren knew exactly what he was talking about.

“I mean they’re getting married, Jude it’s a little more than a date, don’t you think?” She teased him, leaning her head on his shoulder. He kissed her temple and she closed her eyes. Even the way they acted so instinctively and naturally made it so glaringly obvious they were more than what they were pretending they were. 

“Yeah, well, you know what I mean.” Jude wanted Lauren to say it. Lauren wanted Jude to say it. It was a big silent mess but the only thing Lauren could hear at the moment was her heart beating out of her chest. Jude pushed her hair behind her ear to get a better look at her face. She opened her eyes and attempted to keep them fixated on you across the club but he was like a magnet and her gaze shifted.  

“Dating? Erm… I don’t know…we date right?” Lauren sheepish asked. Jude could barely hear her in the loud club. She didn’t want to look into his deep dark eyes but she didn’t really have any other choice making her more nervous than ever.

“Do we date?” Jude said smugly with a coy smile. He was probably a bit more open about feelings and in general with life so he was pushing Lauren to realize what he had realized a month ago. He was trying to not to smile too outwardly though to not make her feel bad but he was gassed she was even this far into the conversation. 

“I mean you fuck me every week…” Lauren began her explanation only in a way Lauren would with a hot take that Jude didn’t love. He gave her a face like ‘really?’ She rolled her eyes. “Fine, we have sex…” She took a deep breath realizing her list of why they were dating continued on much longer than her one point. “You take me out, I sleep at your house even if we aren’t having sex, we buy each other gifts…” Jude laced his fingers with hers, holding her hand. She tried not to smile but he made her heart flutter. She dropped the shy smile forming on her face though. Jude sighed so Lauren continued. “You hold my hand.” Jude picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles. “I know your phone password, I know your family, we talk all the time…I miss you when I’m not with you…I like you… a lot, like I feel like a complete idiot around you,  is that dating to you?” Lauren took another deep breath starting to deep what she had just said.  Once Lauren had spelled it all for Jude, but frankly for herself, she began to realize just how serious things might’ve been. He smiled pretty content with what she had shared. 

“Yeah, I think it is, Laur.” He cooed softly but calmly. His voice didn’t shake, he was ever cool and composed like he always is. She glanced at him inspecting his contrasting features, his unbelievably sharp bone structure yet incredibly soft lips and eyes. He smiled again catching her so Lauren’s eyes darted away fast. He laughed a little. This was incredibly uncharacteristic for her. Lauren was confident, sure of herself, right now she couldn’t be further from that. She was vulnerable around Jude when they were alone. He made her soft and she felt comfortable letting her guard down around him. Jude was light hearted and fun. He was sweet and thoughtful, everything Lauren would love to say she could care less about except Jude really was her dream man. She had fallen into the habit of being mushy with him at home but out at a club where she historically was eager and phlegmatic she found herself reeling with emotions, one of which was a real fear of him.

“Are we having this conversation in a club?” Lauren tried to stop the train from leaving the station. It’s not that she didn’t want this. She just had been avoiding the thoughts that had been clouding in head for months so much so that she hadn’t even confessed to you. She thought if no one knew, they’d dissipate but they only seemed to develop more. She was really overwhelmed by the fact that Jude seemed to know all the things she listed off and she didn’t somehow. He grabbed her chin and cupped her face bringing it close to his. “You don’t have to do this.” She whispered out hesitantly, getting distracted mildly by his close proximity now. He brushed his nose against hers.

“I want to do this.” Jude spoke low in a whisper just for her to hear. His lips ghosted over hers as he talked. He dropped one of his hands to her waist. She wasn’t planning on leaving, having the man she was falling for so close to her but Jude wanted to make sure. He kept a tight grip on her.

“Okay.” She muttered out. He hummed before he finally leaned a centimeter closer and kissed her. Their lips collided in the most electrifying way. Lauren’s eyes closed but she could feel the water build behind her lids. She squeezed them tighter, blinking away the emotion she felt crashing over her as she agreed with him.

“Okay?” He purred, pulling his lips off hers but not going too far. He stayed fearlessly right in front of her. Shamelessly staring deeply into her eyes. He could see the slight gloss. He ran his thumb over her cheek. 

“Okay.” Lauren confirmed once more with an uncontrollable slight smirk pulling at her lips not sure what she had just got herself into.  

Eventually you and Trent pried yourself off each other and decided it was time to join the two people you had come out with. When you returned to the private table you slid onto a seat next to Lauren. You wrapped your arms around her waist and rested your chin on her. You hung out for a long while but it was more dancing, kissing, and drinking then it was talking until there were no drinks left except a few shots no one wanted so Jude and Trent offered to go get more of something else. You could sense there was a weird vibe though. Not weird in a negative way just as if something had changed, like there was a secret but you didn’t know who was keeping one. You nodded dismissing them to go. Lauren moved away from you and you were confused momentarily until she looked at you biting her lip. 

“What? You’re making me nervous.” You laughed pulling one of your legs up onto the seat cushion. Lauren reached out and placed her two hands on each of your knees, steading herself. 

“I think I’m dating Jude?”  Lauren whispered to you so quietly you thought she might've just mouthed the words to you.  

“What?!?” You just about screamed! You tried to jump up for dramatic effect but Lauren’s hands acted as anchor weights on your body. You slapped your hands over the back of hers in shock. 

“Y/N shh! I don’t know, I don’t know, it was all very vague.” She explained a little louder but nevertheless quietly in a panicked tone. She looked at you as if she had just told you she did something horribly wrong.

“Vague?? Lauren!?!” You pressed her for more details but your back was facing the bar so you didn’t see that Trent and Jude were approaching with drinks. Lauren did though so she just shook her head silently at you. You wanted to grill her for more. What had happened during your delay in coming to the table an hour and a half ago.

“For you baby.” Trent cooed, handing you a tequila drink. You smiled, reaching up to kiss his lips. He plopped down onto the seat next to you and pulled you onto his lap. You sat in between his legs on the seat with yours draped over his thigh. You almost spilled your very full drink with his harsh drag of your body. Lauren ripped one of the shots that was still remaining in front of her on the table. You snapped your head from Trent to her, shocked by her sudden movement and brash decision. 

“We’re going to dance.” Lauren told Jude as her hand grabbed his face. It wasn’t as sudden or at the pace at which she took the shot but it was relatively harsh. You blinked your eyes trying not to react so you puffed the air out of your mouth. Trent squeezed your side for comfort, not sure what you were responding to. 

“I’m going to dance.” Jude responded looking back at you and Trent being pulled in the direction away from you by Lauren. Jude had a cheesy smile on his face. He looked like a little kid, thrilled to be in the position he was in and now you maybe were understanding why he was smiling just a little bit more now.  Trent quipped a sarcastic ‘have fun’ comment before you whipped around back to him once they were out of view. 

“I think they’re datingggg!!!!” You quietly screamed, grabbing his face. He winced not expecting your outburst but his shocked face fell into a smile seeing you so excited. He placed his much larger hands over yours before he dragged your hands off his face and guiding his onto your waist.

“Wow..” Trent responded slowly processing what you were saying. You went back and forth for a little while discussing things about the potential of Lauren and Jude dating but you got side tracked when Trent’s hands began to wander.

“Do you want to date me?” You giggled childishly aksing him a very silly question. You didn’t think you were drunk but as the question came out.. Maybe you were.

“No…” He was quick to say no. So quick that you were almost offended but Trent put your worrying mind at ease when he spoke again. “I wanna marry you, pretty girl.” He laughed a little letting out such a cheesy line. He ran his hands under the back of your sweater guiding them over your bare back.

“Oh, I like that better” You sheepishly responded with a little smile, tucking your face into the nape of his neck embarrassed by the cheese. Trent’s hands continued up your back and teasingly played with the clasp of your bra again and again. 

“C’mon baby, don’t be shy. You know I want to marry you.” He spoke right up against your ear closest to him.You could feel his hot minty breath hitting your skin. His fingers caressed down your back. One hand dropping to hold your waist the other pulling your face for him to see. He looked at you completely smitten. He pinched your cheeks together, pursing your lips for you and pulled your body closer to his simultaneously. He gave you nothing but teasing looks waiting for you to initiate the kiss. You leaned in towards his lips with his hand still holding your face. Your own hands dropping to his waist sliding slyly under his t-shirt but you hovered millimeters away from his perfect pout.

“I’m not shy.” You whispered in a voice you didn’t know you did when you were turned on but Trent knew it very well.  

“No? I think you are a little shy. Hiding from me at dinner, won’t kiss me right now..” You cut off Trent’s ramble. You closed the gap between you two, kissing him. It was pure heaven kissing him. He smiled into the kiss. Again and again, Trent pressed kisses to your lips. In the dim lighting of the club he thought you never looked better as he pulled away to inspect your beauty for a moment. 

”I can’t wait to marry you, T.” You cooed hushly, before your hands tugged at his hair to bring him back into a steamy kiss. Your tongues dancing in perfect rhythm. He kissed down your neck finding the spot he knows you love. You felt his plump lips pull into a cheeky smirk against your skin as you stifled a moan. 

“No one else in the fucking world can will ever be able to have you.” He spoke to you murmuring against your neck but you could still hear him clearly.  

“No one else could have me now.” You assured him that whether you were married or not, you weren’t going anywhere.

“I want the government to know that.” He looked up at you with a serious face. You sat back a little to get him off your neck and too really look at him. You giggled seeing the sincerity on his face. He really meant that. “You going to let me take you back to our room now?” He whispered coming in closer to your lips not letting you go too far. You nodded with a juvenile smile and excitement. 

“What are we gonna do there?” You asked him teasingly. He just leaned forward and told you to shut up silently with a kiss.

“You wanted to dance with me?” Jude asked Lauren in a smug tone sliding his hands around her hips from behind as she walked further into the club. His lips ghosting behind the shell of her ear. 

“I wanted to be alone with you. Just wanted to be with you right now. I don’t want to be with them.” Lauren turned around and gazed up at him with a look Jude didn’t see on her face often. Lauren was scared. She looked like a little girl in a way. Her eyes wide and almost bordering on tearful. She was bitting on her bottom lip to stop it from quivering. 

“Lauren” Jude said her name as calmly as he could readjusting his hold of her. He held her waist securely close to him but still a good distance apart so he could really see her. “If you’re not ready for this right now, I’ll wait for...” Jude’s sweet words attempting to tell Lauren that he really liked her and enough that he wouldn’t mind holding off on dating if she wasn’t there yet, he’d wait but Lauren cut him off with a kiss. The kiss was hot and charged. Now this was a Lauren Jude did see often. She pulled away out of breath and turned around too embarrassed by her emotions to look at him. He grabbed her hips and pulled her ass back into him. She grinded up against him leaning back and resting her head onto his shoulder. Jude dragged his massive hand down the front of her throat. His lips slowly kissed behind her ear. His other hand beginning to slide over her bare stomach flirting with the waistband of her trousers. 

“I’m ready.” Lauren cooed, confirming she wanted this. She wanted him but even knowing that her voice was still shaky. She rolled her head to the side more to give him room to keep his lips on her. 

“Let me take you home, Laur.” He whispered against her skin. A shiver ran down her spine. They came back and Lauren trotted up the steps to were you and Trent were. You stood up and met her halfway. 

“Hey, I think we’re gonna go home…”  You cooed to Lauren cheekily excited for your night. Lauren had the same look on her face.

“Oh… same.” She smiled at you and then began to laugh. She reached around you and grabbed her bag. 

“Practice abstinence or you could end up with a friend for Teddy!” You joked with her. She rolled her eyes and pinched at your side. She ran over to Trent and gave him a quick hug. Jude stood down below the section so Trent stood up and dapped him up through the railing. I guess they had some sort of mind reading capability that you and Lauren didn’t. They knew exactly what was going on before Lauren had told you she was leaving. You came behind Trent and wrapped one arm around him. You squeezed Jude’s shoulder saying goodbye and you watched them walk out. 

When you got back to the hotel you had no idea what time it was. You flopped onto the bed utterly exhausted though. Trent crawled over top of you. He peeled your sweater off over your head leaving you in just the skimpy bra he had played with early. He was so gentle, peeling off your clothes and then undoing your heels. You pouted at how sweet he was with you. Since having your little girl you felt like Trent treated you fairly delicately. He wasn’t as unrestrained anymore. It was almost like he was scared to hurt the mother of his child. He turned around in the room and pulled his shirt off over his head. His back muscles flexed and danced and your mouth watered. He took off his trousers and your mouth was definitely watering. He turned around to see a hungry lust painted on your face. 

“See anything you like?” he asked with a cheeky smile that made your heart race. He was so fucking pretty. You scooted forward on the bed in just your bra and panties and stuck your arms out beckoning him over to come be with you. In no time he was overtop of you, both you now sans clothes, his hard cock teasing your dripping pussy. He caressed his hand over your cheek. The softest touch you ever felt but you felt your mind shift noticing you weren’t focusing on that sweet touch but more on his hard cock rubbing against you. 

“T… I want you to be rough with me.” You whispered to him with a sweetly juxtaposed smile.

“You want me to be rough?” He asked you stopping his movements looking down at you making sure he heard you correctly.

“Think about it, we're in a hotel, there’s no Teddy, we’re in Spain… it could be fun.” You giggled. Trying to convince not giving great reasons but you were hoping he wouldn’t need any.

“A lot of that doesn’t exactly merit me being rough with you but yeah if you want me to be, baby.” He hovered over top of you a little confused but returning your smile still interested in what you were asking for.

“Like… I want to be a whore for you.” You sounded more shy than you wanted but nevertheless you said it. His eyes widened in shock. I mean you guys definitely got pretty dirty and he had a very clear dominance in the bedroom but… it was rare that any sort of degradation was involved. Calling you anything other than perfect wasn’t really your vibe.

“Baby... I don't.” Trent gritted his teeth not loving the idea. He understood it. It’s not that he didn’t view you in a way where he couldn’t imagine it but he just really preferred taking care of you, praising you, loving you so it took him a moment to wrap his head around this.

“Just a little. Like do whatever you want to me.” You looked at him painfully and confusingly innocent. “When we're at home I’m a mum and right now… I don’t want to be.” You giggled grabbing onto his biceps.

“I get it… “ he blew some air out accepting the idea. “Alright. You think that’ll be fun?” He laughed a little. You nodded “We’re gonna do this my way though.” He told you sternly.

“Okay.” You moaned as he quickly had his lips kissing on your neck, nibbling on your most sensitive spots. Like you weighed nothing Trent rolled you two over. You almost gasped, it caught you so off guard. He moved himself backwards and sat leaned against the hotel bed. He harshly pulled your legs up and over to straddle his thigh. Your heart was racing with excitement. You were trying your best not to smile. 

“You know how much I love you, yeah? How much I respect you?” He asked you a question as his hard wrapped around your throat gently but with pressure. You nodded incredibly turned on. You didn’t realize but you were grinding on his leg already. Rubbing your throbbing clit against his muscular thigh. You were desperately wishing that you were riding him. Trent dropped his serious look when you nodded your understanding. His face fell into pure amusement seeing you now. He pushed his tongue in his cheek with a smile. You frowned at him when he gripped onto your hips holding you down. This was not what you thought you were signing up for. You pawed at his perfectly sculpted thighs begging for more movement, more friction, more of him. He smiled watching you desperately rub on on top of him, making yourself whimper. His hands on you felt like fire. “You like getting off on my thigh, baby.” He laughed, planting a kiss behind your ear teasingly. “Nah, what’s wrong? You said you wanted me, you got me… What’s wrong then?” He looked at you with a devious smile. You whined looking at him with puppy dogs hoping it would sway him but it did nothing. You looked at his hard cock laying up against his abs beginning to leak pre cum onto his tanned skin. It looked so good. You wanted him inside of you so bad you thought you might cry. “I can’t just spoil you all the time, pretty girl.” He cooed in a pompous way that made you want to scream. You had no idea you would get this desperate, you never realized how much he gave to you upfront. He could tell too but he was holding his ground. You asked for this. This was self inflicted. 

“T… please, baby.” You whimpered. You made a poor attempt to grind against him. He loosened his hold on your waist letting your grind down more on him slipping on his thigh making a mess you were so wet. You were dripping all over him. He shook his head, not giving in to your complaints. You let go of his thigh in front of you and greedily wrapped your hands around his length. “I want to ride you, T… please. I need it, I need you, I need your cum.” You greedily begged. Trent swallowed trying his best to withstand this but he was struggling. His hands loosened on you. You quickly took advantage of this and moved off his thigh. You aligned his cock underneath you. You looked him in the eye for approval but he was so taken aback by your sudden movement that he couldn’t process what you were doing. Trent was aching to be buried inside you. You were the same, you couldn’t wait any longer, you had had enough of the teasing. You began to sink down onto his length. Trent threw his head back against the headboard letting out a rough groan. He opened his eyes to watch you take all of him. You looked so fucking hot when you were this needy for him, when you were so desperate that you took what you wanted and what you wanted was him. Your shoulders rolled forward and your jaw slacked, finally feeling him. Trent could’ve cum just from hearing you talking, no begging him like that. 

“Fuck! That what you wanted, baby? You wanted my cock?” He sat up and dropped his hands to your hips helping you move up and down on him. You nodded pathetically. He smacked your ass. Not once, but again and then, when you moaned, again. “Such a good girl for me. Keep riding me just like this, baby. So good for me.” He praised you like he preferred and honestly you fucking loved it. Your pussy clenched every time he told you you were a good girl. He harshly thrusted up into you, pushing so deep it almost knocked the wind out of you. Your body collapsed onto his unable to stay up any longer. He held you tight to him, fucking up into you but not without a sweet kiss to your hair. He rolled you two over to be on top. You started to cry that's how good he was fucking you. He was so deep. You had cried in bed during sex before but Trent needed to make sure you were okay. “Baby… tell me we’re okay, yeah? You want to keep going?” He asked you with the most sincere loving look.

“Yeah, please T. It’s okay, I’m okay, please, T. Keep fucking me. It's so good.” You spoke with a tremor in your voice. He hovered over you propped up by his arms. His strokes were strong and deep. Your foot dragged down his back sensually pulling him closer to you. He moved his face closer to you. You kissed him softly. “I can handle it, promise.”  You cooed. Trent buried his face into your neck with a groan. You loved the way he smelt all the time but there was something about the way he did when he was in bed with you, his cologne had faded, mixed with a bit of sweat and he was so close to you it wafted all around you. 

“Good.” He replied a little relieved you were okay and a lot relieved because he was loving every second of this. “Want me to be rough with you? You want to be a whore just for me?” He whispered in your ear and your pussy clenched exponentially tighter around him. He couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Yeah? You like that baby? You only get to do this with me. No one else can ever touch you.” Trent told you sternly continuing to fuck you. He pulled back and picked up one of your legs switching positions. You looked so perfect underneath him. He didn’t really think of you like his whore, you were a fucking angel for him and only him but he’d play along if it got you like this. 

“I love you. Oh my god, T! Just for you, Only with you.” You whimpered trying to stop yourself from drooling. He smiled hearing you tell him that. His dimples appeared in his gorgeous smile. “Fuck!” You whine, balling the sheets under you into your fists. Trent groaned, feeling and hearing how wet you were. He loved that he got you this way. He leaned over again to whisper in your ear but before he spoke you grabbed onto his wrist squeezing it tightly as he railed into you.  

“Wanna hold my hand baby?” He cooed before he nipped a kiss on your neck. That’s exactly what you wanted. You whined and pouted almost on the verge of tears again. He pulled away from your neck and sat back a little but still remained inside you. 

“T… You moaned desperate for him to continue. He gave you a cheeky smile seeing your pout but then flicked his gaze down to your glistening pussy stuffed full of him. His lips curled into another smile but this one was different. This was a sinister smile. He guided his thumb to your clit and pressed hard shapes down over it. You were squirming beneath him. 

“Baby.” He snapped at you in a cold tone. Your jaw slacked and you tried to still. He pushed his thighs wider to move your legs further apart and upward. The air of the cold hotel room sent a chill up your spine as it reached your sensitive wet core. Then to your surprise Trent slapped his hand against your folds. Not gently mind you, but definitely not overtly mean either just enough to have you whining and fidgeting.

“T, I’m gonna cum. Please!” You cried. He tapped at your sensitive throbbing clit with wet slaps.

“Go ahead, baby. Cum f’me. That’s okay.” Trent didn’t often deny you of an orgasm. He felt like he was winning if that was happening so it was always a bit of an ego boost but you didn’t care what it was you wouldn’t have been able to hold this one. Your high crashed over you and you gushed.Your arousal dripping from your pussy. “Such a messy girl f’me. Such a messy pussy.”  Trent cooed smiling proudly watching you squirt onto him, your release running down your thighs. He ran his thumb back over your clit and you couldn’t handle it. It was way too much. 

“Trent, itt’s too much, ah please, T.” The first name either meant you were really happy or really serious. The desperation in your voice had Trent leaning towards the ladder so he stopped. 

“Good girl. You okay?” He asked sweetly and you nodded. “I love you, baby.  Doing so good f’me.” He cooed, bringing his drenched fingers covered in your sweet arousal up to your mouth. “Taste, beautiful.” He whispered, dragging them over your lips. You opened your mouth and let him push them in. You moaned, swirling your tongue over his fingers. “My good girl.” He cooed once more, pulling them out of your mouth now. He kissed your lips and you whined. “Still want me to hold your hand?” He asked but you couldn’t focus as he began to fuck you again. “Keep being a good girl for me and cum on my cock again. Can you do that f’me?” He asked, beginning to start drilling into you again. You tried to nod but your eyes rolled back before you could in the cutest way. It was very lewd but somehow managed to be cute. After a long while of sheer bliss the knot in your stomach tightened again.

“I’m gonna cum, T… Oh my fucking god!.” You choked out a whine feeling him hit deeper inside. Your pussy was throbbing. “I wanna cum, baby!” You cried out desperately sweet.

 “Tell me how deep you feel me, baby? Tell me first. Show me.” He instructed you sternly but incredibly smooth and loving. It was almost confusing but your head was gone anyways. This was ethereal. Just the way Trent was speaking to you made you feel like you were going to orgasm. You could feel the vein running down the length of his cock slide inside your walls. You moaned pathetically. You threw your head back onto the pillow as your legs began to shake utterly fraught. “Baby” He cooed trying to get you to come back to him and the moment to answer him. 

“Can feel you right here, T. You’re so deep, fuck, baby.” You mewled, taking one of his big hands and guiding it towards the place on your stomach where you could see the impression of him. Trent’s cock twitched and he let out a groan before a small greedy breathless laugh. He leaned forward over you more and nipped at your neck. 

“You take me so well, baby. Shit. You’re fucking perfect.” He purred into your ear. You shut your eyes but opened them wide when you felt him drag his hand back down towards your clit. You were of two minds. Part of you wanted to scream and tell him enough and part of you wanted to scream and tell him you wanted more. He began to rub your clit in precise movements. “Always so wet f’me. Wanna cum with me, baby? I need to cum inside this pussy.”

“T… baby.” you cried. You could only manage his name. You fell apart curse words falling from your lips repeatedly. You were at your limit. The drag of his cock had you almost delirious. His fingers dug into your skin. Trent rolled his head back in pleasure as he thrusted into you one more time before he spilled into your tight heat. You gently tried to roll your hips up into him more to help him ride out his high. “So good f’me, baby. Did so good.” He laid over top of you nuzzling his face into the nape of your neck. He pressed a sweet kiss to your warm skin. After your breathing began to calm slightly he rolled off you collapsing against his side of the bed. You inched back over to him not wanting to be apart for long. He wrapped his arm around you and pulled you tight.  Your head laid on his chest. You could hear his heart racing. “Good girl.” He murmured out completely exhausted before he kissed your hair. You giggled. A smile stretching across your face. You almost liked this part better. That’s a lie but it was a close second. “You just wanted to be a little dirty for me, huh?” Trent spoke to you with his eyes closed and a blissful smirk. You had him whipped. He was down bad for your pussy but also completely in another way. Trent didn’t think he could describe it. There was nothing to describe because it was simply indescribable. He couldn’t even tell his friends because as much as they would talk about their sex lives they wouldn’t understand the amount of love he had for you and why it made sex so great. 

“I just don’t want you to forget that I’m still like me, like pre baby me, pre mum. I still want you to want me. To have fun with me.” You giggled shyly stroking your hand over his bicep. 

“Baby, come on… I want you all the time. We can have more fun but I didn’t want to pressure you. We can do this whenever you want. You know I just want to take care of you. I love you so much.” he pouted looking at you. Every time he looked at you, that's what you were. You were the mother of his child. His whole world revolved around you. That didn’t mean he didn’t find you sexy and definitely didn’t mean he didn’t want to have sex all the time but he just was such a melt for you.

“You're such a mushy lover boy.” You teased pitching at his cheek before dragging your thumb over his flushed plump lips.

“Only for you.. embarrassing for you.” He laughed and shook his head. He knew he was down bad. He felt a little pathetic but he didn’t want to be any other way for you. When he woke up in the morning you were tucked in his arms wearing his t-shirt. He smiled looking at your sleeping figure. You looked so beautiful wrapped up like that. He wanted to stare at you all day and the funny thing was he knew he wouldn’t get bored of it either. 

“Hi” you giggled, fluttering your eyes open, feeling his gaze on you. 

“Mmm good morning to the most beautiful girl in the world.” He cooed. 

“Gimme a kiss please.” You whispered greedily and reached up for him. You pecked his lips and tried to return back to your place.

“Nah, gimme a proper kiss please” he spoke softly in the quiet morning. A soft smile took over your face, your hands gliding to cup his cheek. You kissed him softly, your lips moving perfectly sleepily, your bodies heating up again.

“I want you, T…” You moaned into his mouth dragging your body to lay on top of his finding yourself waking up incredibly horny still thinking about last night. 

“Hold on Jude’s calling me…” Trent suddenly stopped your very heated moment. You looked at him like he was crazy. He was stopping you to talk to Jude? He laughed seeing your response. He picked up his phone off the night stand and kissed your temple. “I want to hear about last night!” he explained, gesturing towards you like ‘don’t you?’ You nodded as he answered. 

“Yo, bro you alright?” Jude spoke calmly but something felt… off. 

“Yeah, mate all good.” Trent tried to emulate the same emotion back but clearly they were both beating around the bush about what they wanted to know. 

“Just wanted ask you about something quick, you got a second? Lauren is out with my mum so I only have a little bit of time.” Jude explained. You could hear him say Lauren was out with Denise but not very clearly. You looked at Trent and mouthed excitedly ‘This is my point!’ emphasizing the fact that Lauren and Denise together so often should’ve been a clear indicator that they weren’t nothing. Lauren liked to tell herself she did want a relationship but it was hard to ignore when it was perfectly laid for her. It was so obvious though. She’s was here in Madrid all the time. She was here in Madrid all the time… at his house. Although, she struggled wrapping her head around it. It was almost like Jude was too good for her. Lauren really believed she deserved the best. She deserved a man that looked like Jude, that had the status Jude did but how nice he was to her? Unprecedented. Uncharted territory for her. She was in a group chat with his family. She’d never been a family group chat with a boy’s family before. She was apart of their conversations, their daily life. She knew when his dad’s birthday was. She was rattled Jude and her had even continued talking after they met in Greece let alone know his families birthdays. Oh boy did they talk after Greece. Maybe ‘talking’ isn’t the right word… it did start out more like a sexing escapade but falling asleep on the phone with someone with all her clothes on in another country became more common than the nude photos she was sending. She couldn’t believe she’d wake up in his bed now months later and  she’d want to stay there with him. She didn’t stop him when he held her hand or he kissed her temple. She had become a melt and it terrified her. 

“I think I am dating Lauren.” Jude told Trent with an unsure tone. ‘Act surprised!!’ you mouthed to Trent. You shoved at him excitedly. He nodded understanding you. 

“Shit, really?” He responded as excited as Trent would normally to not freak Jude out. Trent wasn’t exactly someone who was screaming too often. “So, you asked her to be your girlfriend?” Trent asked curiously, wondering how serious their conversation last night was. Your eyes widened hearing Trent say the word. 

“Nah, nah, no. I didn’t. I don’t think it’s like that.” Jude explained. Trent sat up in bed and you followed. You moved to sit beside him crossed legged, laying your head on his shoulder eager to hear what was being said. ‘Move it to speaker’ you whispered, gesturing to Trent. Trent laid his phone on the bed for you to listen as well. He shook his head though turning to face you. ‘This is fucked up’ he mouthed to you ‘He’s talking to me not you.’ You waved your hand dismissing him. 

“I’m not sure she wants to date me. I feel like a fucking idiot, bro. I don’t mean this to sound obnoxious but I’ve been actively choosing to not talk to other girls for her. My messages are stacked.” You rolled your eyes listening to Jude talk about his ‘big sacrifice and full inboxes.'  “but I want her and I am not sure she’s interested in that.” Then Jude continued and you felt bad. You knew Lauren was terrified but you were almost angry at her for making Jude sound so sad. It seemed silly because they both wanted the same thing. 

“Why would you say that? She’s there all the time, mate. She’s with your mum right now. It’s not like Denise would be with her just because. She has to like her.” Trent explained going off his own experience. Mums of all boys and professional athletes on top of that, no matter how kind they were, they were not messing about. They were not putting up with any riff raff Jude or Trent would try to bring home. It maybe would be unexpected to most, although not surprising to you because you’d seen it first hand before but Denise loved Lauren. Despite her outgoing nature and unfiltered mouth around you, Lauren was incredibly polite. She had great people skills. If you put her at a dinner table in any country she’d have the best manners by a mile. She spoke a few languages, she was well traveled, unbelievably smart. Lauren was every parent’s dream until she was sneaking out, and going out. When it came to the hours of the night, things took a different direction. But unless it was Lauren’s own parents, no one knew what was going on. She was incredibly sly. She’d go out till 5 in the morning and arrived to a charity event at 7 am looking like she just walked out of a salon. You admired her craftsmanship and boys were obsessed with it. She embodied ‘lady in the streets but a freak in the bed.’

“Of course my mum likes her. She knows I’m in love with her.” Jude said matter of fact quickly explaining one of the reasons Denise liked Lauren. You slapped your hand over your mouth to suppress the scream you wanted to let out. You flopped back onto the bed kicking your feet . You sat up to listen more though and squeezed Trent bicep. Your long nails dug into his soft skin. “Fuck….” Jude sighed “Don’t… don’t tell Y/N I said that. I gotta figure this out somehow. What do I do?” He sounded so defeated. 

“Ow” Trent swatted at your hand for you to release his arm from your grip. Once you did he turned his attention back to the phone. “You could talk to her, ya know.” Trent said to Jude like it was obvious. “When do you usually talk?” He asked. Jude went silent trying to think of a better answer than the truth. “Okay, well fine. When you’re in bed then.” You smiled loving Trent’s ability to read people. He was so intuitive. It was amazing, sometimes annoying when it was directed at you, but amazing nonetheless. “Ask her then.”

“Bro, I told her last night if she needed time,I’d wait for her but she cut me off and told me she was ready.” Jude explained a brief excerpt of their conversation last night.  

“I don’t see the problem then, what are we talking about here?” Trent asked slightly confused that if Lauren said she was ready what was Jude freaking out about. 

“Bro! I don’t know what I’m talking about! I don’t know what we’re doing.” Jude ranted about him and Lauren very confused. Trent paused thinking for a minute. The line going silent which bothered Jude. “Oh fuck off, mate. I gotta go, they just got back home. Go enjoy your perfect family.” He snipped. 

“I was just thinking! Relax!” Trent laughed at his dramatics. “I’ll talk to you online tomorrow, mate.” Trent said goodbye but Jude was long gone. They’d always be online playing FIFA but you were curious if they’d continue this conversation or skip over it. You guessed you’d find out. 

“I need to talk to Lauren!” You reached for your phone plugged in still on the bedside table. Trent stopped you and grabbed your arm pulling you back to him. 

“You need to not do that. That’s not fair to him. Let them work it out.” Trent explained. You understood his rational it was the more adult thing to do but it was hard not to meddle when there was a potential relationship happening between your friends. You followed Trent’s guidance though. You took a much needed shower after last night but climbed back into bed immediately after. You fell back asleep not long after. Around 8 am Dianne let herself into your hotel room. You had told her to do so. The suite had a few rooms so it wasn’t like she was walking directly into where your bed would be. 

“Good morning” She sang bouncing Teddy in her arms. “I have a very special delivery.” She laughed, kissing Teddy’s cheek. Teddy giggled. You were passed out still but Trent could identify that cute sound from a mile away. 

“My teddy bear, C’mere!” Trent cooed, seeing them enter the other room. Dianne set Teddy on her own two feet. Trent sat upright so she was able to see where he was in the bed. 

“Dada!!” She squealed with a giggle, waking the best and fastest she could to him. Trent shuffled to the side of the bed and scooped her up off the ground under her arms and plopped her to sit on top of his abs. She had the biggest smile on her face. Completely transfixed on him. 

“I like your pretty bows. Did nana do your hair?” Trent asked, pulling one of her tiny ringlet curls straight letting it bounce back. Dianne had put Teddy's hair into two high ponytails with little bows on each one. It was really fucking cute. Teddy nodded and turned back to point to where Dianne was but Dianne had gone into another room already letting you all have your morning after she had waved to Trent. 

“Mama!” In the midst of Teddy’s search to find Dianne she clocked that you were next to her and Trent. She pressed her tiny palm to your face. Leaning her weight down squishing your cheek.

“Oh gentle, Ted. Mummy is sleepy.” Trent cooed with a laugh pulling her chubby arm away from you. Teddy giggled looking in between you two. You woke up with a smile on your face.

“Is that my baby? My beautiful girl!” You pulled her off Trent and into your arms. You squished her to your chest and rolled side to side giving her the tightest hug. “Helllooo. How are you, Teddy girl?” You sang giving her a big kiss.

“Hugwy mama” she cooed. Her little hands grabbing at you. Her face lit up in excitement. You pouted a little bit that she was starting to be able to communicate so effectively. It was a few words here and there but food was important so this was really good. “Should we get breakfast?” You asked and her eyes drew wider. Teddy loved breakfast. You think it was because it was a meal that the three of you got to share a lot together. Before training Trent could spend time with you so the word definitely sparked excitement. You pulled her extra close to you and she giggled more. “Should we invite dada?” You whispered in her ear cheekily looking back over to Trent. You pulled her away from you a little. She squealed for Trent. A loud ‘dada’ echoing through the room. She wiggled out of your hold and crawled back over to him not without practically stepping all over you. Using your face to push off of with her hands for leverage. You couldn’t help but laugh at her eagerness.

“I’ll take you, mama, and nana to breakfast if you gimme a big kiss, Ted.” Trent told Teddy helping her over you. 

“Kiss?” She questioned him and tilted her head. Trent reached up and tapped his finger against his lips. She smiled and leaned forward. 

“Mwah! Good girl. Thank you so so much. You make daddy so happy., baby bear” He cooed with a slight laugh. You got up eventually and told Dianne the plan. Trent showered while you got Teddy dressed and ready then you began to do your makeup. While you were in the ensuite Teddy waddled in carrying your purse to bring it to you. 

“Thank you!” You giggled seeing the bag that wasn’t that big next to you look massive against her small frame. You weren’t dressed yet so you didn’t need it any time soon but you appreciated her effort. It was sweet. “You’re so stylish, Ted. Want to hold onto it for me?” Her face pulled into a greedy smile excited to get to keep hold of it. She just carried it around the room, taking it everywhere she went until you left and even after that.  

“C’mere, baby.” Trent took your hand in his as you walked down a sunny Spanish street while you pushed Teddy’s pram. You had eaten breakfast and decided to take a longer route back to the hotel before your flight home this evening.  Teddy held your bag for you in her seat. She hugged it like it was a stuffed animal, suddenly that was the toy of the day. You didn’t mind, whatever made her happy. “You like mummy’s bag? Should we get you one?” Trent asked her with a childish smile crouching to be level with her as you waited for the crosswalk to change. 

“T… no, that's insane” You smiled at the offer and as funny as it was you knew he was serious. He wanted to buy her a bag. Not one for little girls,  a real designer bag.  

“C’mon it’ll be cute!” He pleaded with you. Dianne shook her head and shrugged when you looked at her for back up. She knew just what you did, if he wanted to do something he was going to do it. 

“Baby, she's 15 months old, I don’t want you to buy her stuff like that. I don’t want her to be like that where she expects you to get her gifts unannounced.” You tried to explain to him the reality of why buying someone under the age of two a bag like this was ridiculous. Yes, they’re investment pieces, you believed that, but what was she going to do with it? You felt the same way when your mom gifted her Judith Leiber.

“What? Like you…” He raised his eyebrows teasing you. He kissed you and slid his hands around you to hold your waist. You relaxed feeling his lips on yours. Forgetting what he was saying momentarily. 

“Funny.” You smiled in your kiss and rolled your eyes. 

“C’mon imagine how cute she’d look matching with her beautiful…” He kissed you again. “Sexy…” Then another kiss. “mummy.” You shook your head as you hid your face in the nape of his neck. “What you being shy for? What? Want me to stop flirting with you?” He laughed a little, cupping your cheeks. 

“You’re flirting with me?” You asked, playing innocent biting back the sly grin forming on your face. 

“Yeah… I’m flirting with you, baby.” He smiled back at you devastatingly beautiful, like always. You felt your heart flutter and your knees go a little weak. That face, that face would get you every single time. 

“I like when you flirt with me.” You admitted running your hands over his shoulders. 

“I'm always going to flirt with you." He cheekily squeezed you ass.

“You’re dumb.” You whispered back to him before pulling away. 

“And you’re beautiful.” He said before he turned back to Dianne and Teddy in her pram. “And you're absolutely perfect. What do you think? Dior? Should we go look, Ted?” He cooed picking her up. 

“I wasn’t ever going to win, was I.” You shut your eyes softly before turning to Dianne again. 

“No hun.” She left wrapping her arm around you as you trailed Trent following his beeline path to the shop. You browsed for quite awhile with a nice sales associate discussing what you wanted now embarrassingly on board with the purchase.

“Wait, this is really cute.” You said aloud.  

“Oh? I’m sorry I thought you didn’t want anything.” Trent teased you pitching your waist while he held Teddy. 

“Hush!” You told him to be quiet before you turned your attention back to the sales associate.” I feel like I don’t want to get her something too niche. Does that make sense? It should still be cute and girlie for her but I don't know.” You babbled on trying to make a decision you couldn’t decide. Trent gave you a smug teasing look. You swatted your hand at him then focused on the two different sizes of a bag the women had pulled out for you.  You landed on getting Teddy a micro Lady Dior and yourself a medium both in the same blue color you thought was good. It was good for all seasons which was always a good thing. You initially thought you wanted a pink shade but you were nervous it would maybe not be her vibe. You were still trying to sus out more and more of her personality. You did ask her though, holding two of the same bag in front of her, one blue, one pink and she pointed to the blue so that was also a driving factor. You checked out and left the store, shopping bags carried by Trent. “Can we say thank you, daddy?” you cooed with a cheesy smile and a soft giggle bouncing Teddy on your hip. Trent just kissed both your foreheads. 

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🤍

Next part - Chapter 18 xx

#trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold imagines #taa x reader #taa66 #footballer x reader #footballer x y/n #oursfic #trent alexander arnold smut

[fictionfixations]

wasnt planning on making a post but im doing it now so uh

helluva boss the full moon episode (i dont remember which one it was. s2 ep8?? i think? idk)

(i just realized i said 'hazbin hotel' my bad. if i make a mistake like that uhh oops)

and yall are stolas defenders so im gonna talk about blitz (dont get me wrong i love both of them)

let me talk about it

(i dont know if i make any sense so oops)

notice how during stolas' proposal basically (cant help but see the gem as like a wedding ring ngl) blitz's eyes are shining because he cant help but hope

and then when he goes 'ohh youre just fucking with me right? this is some roleplay shit right?'

because its so incomprehensible in his mind that this is what he truly thinks it is.

anyway people have explained before about how stolas then proceeds to shut him out like being faced with blitz being in denial about it and taking it as a rejection

meanwhile blitz is like 'wait a second you were SERIOUS?'

and then hes like 'wAIT' because hes trying to understand. to comprehend that stolas was being real about it. that someone wants him. but then he doesnt have the time to think about it because stolas is leaving and he doesnt want stolas to leave

and yknow how blitz is hes kind of an asshole so then he defaults to being angry and frustrated. (i wonder if he feels like he'll only be heard by being angry and yelling. or if by being angry, by shutting people out and being the one to break it off makes blitz feel more in control. anyway-)

no but listen before this hes like 'what the fuck?' stolas leaves, blitz follows him in silence still in that confused and hella surprised state because it was so unexpected while stolas' talking about stuff

hes silent for awhile (probably trying to make sense of it while half-listening)

and then stolas is like 'thats enough to know what this is' and THEN blitz gets all angry and yelling

and inside hes just like. ..thats it? but its like. stolas is going to leave. and he doesnt want him to go. but he also doesnt know how to express that (especially with stolas having completely shut him out at this point in his own feeling, so set in the rejection without realizing that blitz hadnt actually rejected it. had been in disbelief instead of an actual no. and i get why he didnt stay to continue the conversation it just. sucks. so bad.)

("Can I get a fucking minute to think" got stuck in my head) and then blitz gets angry and blames stolas because thats whose infront of him. someone he can yell at and get angry which is so much easier then trying to decipher his feelings, or stolas' feelings. to try to understand. to be vulnerable especially in front of someone who he may like but its also complicated considering the power imbalance, or how all royals are asses so surely stolas cant be different, how its just a transactional relationship and nothing serious.

hes also saying things he doesnt necessarily mean meanwhile stolas is taking it to heart like 'this is how he really feels about me' when that isnt true (blitz is kind of just making excuses. and instead of being 'set free' as it might seem to stolas, it seems to him like stolas is just. throwing him away. getting bored of him. hes ignoring the love confession stolas just says 'i want you' PLEASE be more blunt about it oh my god theres so many wordings that i have an issue with from stolas im going to be honest.

like LISTEn he goes 'i want you'. blitz is in denial. stolas then starts to acceptance/resignment and blitz is like 'wait a fucking second'

so blitz who thought they were going to have a sexy time. suddenly gets hit with feelings out of the blue. and he doesnt do good with those. and its so incomprehensible that he doesnt believe it. and then basically stolas rejects him right after with blitz realizing 'wait you were serious?' and then gets angry like 'what? no, it can't be over. ..well fuck YOU then!' like. he kind of feels betrayed? like 'how dare you spring this feelings bullshit on me (and then LEAVE)'

also is he projecting? has he experienced something??? and i really dont think hes had the chance to properly process so he's just shoving it aside and focusing on the then and now. which is stolas leaving and dismissing him which blitz takes offence to and accuses him of being like all the other royal assholes. because he doesnt know how else to communicate. this is not to say that he isnt an asshole because he is, but id like to say that theres reasons to all of it.

ALSO ALSO. i think its less that blitz believes stolas to be like that but (besides reasoning to himself that stolas is just like all the others so he can distance himself and cut ties even if it hurts) that its because thats the position stolas has and so its what he turns to for insults. i had more to say about this part but i already forgot, oops.

and ive seen people talk about this too but stolas conversing through words while blitz converses through feelings. so its like for blitz youre not meant to listen to what hes saying but to listen to the feeling? meanwhile stolas being through words (thus probably feeling like 'i want you' is explanation enough while blitz needs more clarification then that)

and potentially with stolas being all horny around him cause haha my crush is here and hes hot and i love him and aaah making blitz think stolas just wants him because of what he can offer? (and maybe if hes never faced love that its unrecognizable? especially towards him?) a thought to go onto another time

also another thought to go down. you think after blitz realizes hes serious that hes trying to coomunicate. with the 'can i get a FUCKING moment to think'

and then his mouth goes on autopilot and starts insulting him trying to stall trying to get him to stay even if its with hurtful words because thats what hes used to thats what he does (also defaulting to anger)

just like yelling at him trying to get stolas to just stop walking. to stop turning his back on him.

and hes just running on anger at that point because he didnt get too long to process that stolas was serious so a part of him still thinks that its just. not real? and hes running off of that because again its so much easier than being vulnerable with someone

blitz has. probably been very trustful of someone, only for them to betray him and hurt him and use him so ahdishfu

also probably blitz's attempt at trying to get them to actually communicate

to get him to stop. stand still. stop leaving. stop moving. just turn around, face him, and talk. to get all their feelings out and explain. to clarify.

maybe he even wants stolas to get angry because that's what he's used to. wants him to get angry so they can get it all out there. maybe wants a part of him to feel vindicated of 'he was right, stolas was an asshole', the part of him that doesnt want to be close to anyone in fear of being hurt

..and then stolas doesn't react how blitz expects him to. (because they DONT understand each other at all! they don't interact all that much outside of sex, and stolas offering it to blitz is rejected)

blitz realizing 'wait... shit...' to wheres hes immediately brought out of his anger by stolas' words

'goodbye'

also it almost sounds like blitz is saying 'Stolas, wait I'm s-' as in 'im sorry'

realizing it wasnt going as he expected it to. that stolas really was serious. that stolas was hurt. that stolas was going to actually leave and blitz. doesnt. want that to happen. so then he. tries.

and then goes 'what the fuck' when he appears outside

and honestly sometimes a lot of relationships need space from each other to realize who they are without them. and also to realize how much they care about the other, yknow? to understand their feelings without anything else complicated thrown into the mix.

listen: blitz could go back into complete denial like 'no fuck stolas actually-'. realize he misses stolas, actually.

cause i feel like he really did try at the end only to get shut out (its a really complicated situation because ive also seen people talk about how blitz yelling could remind stolas of stella(?) i think the person he divorced)

and it could be seen as rejection of him trying to do feelings talk. which he could double down on his 'no one can love you, itll only bring you hurt' idea, or bringing other people hurt (as in his mother's death or fizz getting hurt)

but i feel like he also needs time to just realize things. to think things through instead of being faced with immediately having to respond because theyre talking face to face. immediately having to respond because stolas is leaving and if he doesnt say anything then that'll be it.

its complicated. honestly, though. i feel like its for the better for them to have this break. to rebuild their life without the transactional relationship. i just wonder how they'll get back together (daughter plotting time? maybe?)

i wonder if hell has therapy. (...but also. what if the therapists were corrupt and didnt hold any form of patient privacy???)

hh

anyway i dont know if i made sense. ive just had these thoughts stuck in my head so ive just been spewing out all the ones related to this so i could stop thinking about it

a;sp a;sp o hjavej oirhfrj

holyfuck ok

also also i have more to add

okay so you know stolas' line of 'you have no obligation to touch me or to bed me'

you know what that sounded like with loona having told blitz 'hes getting tired of you'

it sounded like stolas didnt want blitz to basically touch him anymore. which is probably blitz' interpretation of it and thus his anger of 'you think you can do this shit just because im an imp and youre a royal?' or whatever (hes not even touching the fact of the gem. its 'am i not good enough? i can do better!' because the book was the only reason in his mind why he could interact with stolas. and just. aghhh)

any more thoughts im shoving here in the future before i get more brainrot over this

#helluva boss #thoughts #helluva boss spoilers #helluva boss full moon #full moon episode #helluva boss the full moon #hb spoilers #blitz #blitzø #blitzo #helluva boss blitz #helluva blitz #stolas #helluva boss season 2 #stolas goetia

[oddeyes588]

A little late to the party but I do have some thoughts about Fantasy High Junior Year now that it's over. First of all, overall? Great season, had lots of laughs... but man, is it just me, or were there a lot of parts in this season that just... were kind of annoying? For me specifically, two big things... and no, I'm not talking about the Rat Grinders. While I'm a little disappointed with how that ended, I'm not too bothered.

Like, idk if this is a hot take or not, because they were arguably the biggest parts of this season... but I found myself especially annoyed and/or disappointed about K2 and Porter.

Like, don't get me wrong, I thought K2 was funny—especially at first—and Porter being the main villain of the season was 100% for the bit and I can respect that... but man, I couldn't help but be disappointed with Porter going full irredeemably evil, as well as just straight-up annoyed by K2's existence (at least in regards to the story. gameplaywise, making a homunculus of their cleric was VERY smart) (oh god if K2 exists in our world now she might come after me. dont forget me).

In regards to Porter... he was for sure an ass, he caused Gorgug a lot of grief with the MCAT, but he also had such a really sweet moment with him when that thing finally got signed?? It was very, like, not a perfect teacher but someone who did have his best interests in mind, paired with a really nice message about how it's alright to get mad. It was an important part of Gorgug's character growth this season! Integral to unlocking his Barbificer subclass!

...and then all of that just gets thrown away because turns out Porter was evil the whole time and this was all just leading up to his big master plan of killing a god and becoming a god of war. He was never offering genuine advice, he never cared about Gorgug or had his best interests in mind, he thought Gorgug's fascination with Artificing was stupid... and now he's dead. The End.

And that just feels... really disappointing, honestly. He was a chill guy, and yeah he had no right to bar Gorgug from pursuing what he wants and force him to take so many years of school in a single year, but it also resulted in some serious growth on Gorgug's part! It was great! Him being Evil The Whole Time felt... almost like a character assassination, honestly.

And then... there's K2...

I'm gonna be real here. I don't care if using a homunculus and shit for multiple divine intervention rolls is how it actually works in the rulebooks, and I know that objectively having more rolls is always better, especially when the stakes are high... and especially considering that Ally was not getting the rolls she needed otherwise.

This was hilarious. It was also supremely annoying, because it just fully took away from any big moment Kristen could've had this season regarding her and Cassandra after her creation... and this happened TWICE.

Like, from a storytelling perspective, I feel Brennan's pain viscerally. These episodes were truly such an experience for me, because on one hand, I was laughing at the sheer comedy of it all... but there was another part of my brain thinking this truly, truly sucked.

Kristen was figuring out her devotion to Cassandra, finding an understanding in what her role as Cassandra's cleric is... and right at the end of the season all of that kind of comes to a halt because in the end K2 did the divine interventions.

...Well, at least that still leaves some room for whatever Kristen will have to deal with in Senior year. Unlike Porter, who is dead and gone and we're definitely not bringing him back.

#also anybody else think its weird that kalina is still evil? #like that feels like a decision brennan made on the spot that's just him going along with what his players think because it'd be funny #and/or it can lead into senior year #but i thought it was made expressly clear via insight checks that she was GENUINELY worried and tried to keep cassandra safe #at least until she got hit with a rage star #and even then she provided a crucial hint with “Ragh Barkrock” #like ik she was a bitch last season but aside from the astral plane mall—which can be read as just a genuine mistake #shes done nothing but help in what limited ways were available to her #but now shes... also evil now. evil still. i guess #fantasy high #dimension 20 #dimension 20 fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #odd rambles #Youtube

[veryinnovative]

came here to tell you that business reg has been on my mind a lot pls bring him back

this is so sweet in fact here is like the 1541 word goop i initially wrote as like prequel to the 'james' card gets canceled during their first unofficial food date' microfic. i didn't read it so idk how many mistakes there are. i also don't know if i shared this before because both my head and blog r cluttered

“Instant coffee?” 

Peter looks at him properly baffled, bridling and all. “What, are you kidding? He probably already thinks Nespresso is poor people’s coffee.” James snorts at the comment but the peeved look he receives confirms his next-desk-over colleague feels strongly about their boss’ beverage preferences. “I’m serious. You give him one of those three-in-one sachets and next thing you know it we are given a summary dismissal for endangering him.”

Exaggerated too much?

As if able to tap into his inner monologue, Peter’s brows knit together with indignance. “Think I’m kidding? You probably haven’t heard about the time someone was supposedly fired for getting his food order wrong. Rumor has it that...”

As Peter prattles on about office fabrications, James can’t help but zone out, not in the least interested in any of the circulating gossip. He’s not here to chat about Regulus Black and gush over his rare appearances on Forbes magazine covers and the way he wears his suits rather than be worn by them. Nor does he pay any mind to the pervasive fearmongering that’s an unmistakable byproduct of directly working underneath the distinguished Regulus Black, CEO of Black Enterprises, notably known for his high demands and meticulously veiled virulent nature. 

James remains skeptical about the latter. While he has come to understand that Regulus can be exceptionally ruthless when maneuvering through the treacherous deceit that pervades his line of work, he has yet to witness such behavior directed explicitly at their coworkers. Then again, neither Frank working administration nor Mary from the front desk are the type of poison-fanged serpents who seek to sink their teeth into him.

Peter’s tittle-tattle is promptly interrupted by Barty Crouch Junior’s loud entrance, remaining true to character as he barges in through the double doors carrying a paper bag containing Regulus’ very late lunch. James knows because Regulus hadn’t touched the late breakfast he bought him.

“Working hard or hardly working, gentlemen?” Barty asks as his keys swing in his other hand. He stops near Regulus’ office at the lit red light under the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign. “Shit, still occupied? How long has he been in there?”

“The first one finished late and Regulus called himself in right into the next one.” James shrugs his shoulders. “He didn’t have his breakfast and isn’t answering his messages. It’s been dragging on for twenty minutes now.”

Once the modern equivalent of a valet as well as being his best friend, Barty is one of the select few who can openly express his dislike for Regulus’ workaholic tendencies. He sneers at the news and drops the bag on top of James’ desk with no real care for any spillage.

“You,” he starts, pointing at James, “can go home.”

James shoots a quick glance at his watch and frowns. “It’s not even three.”

Barty rolls his eyes. “He’s got a long meeting and you won’t be necessary, messaged me you’re dismissed and can leave early.”

“But—”

“Don’t complain, Potter.” The desk chair is tugged away so Barty can plant his ass on it. “You have half a day off. Go home, jerk off, hit the gym, whatever your heart desires. It’s paid free time, don’t go around wasting it.”

And of course, against better judgment, James very much doesn’t utilize his free time as suggested. Instead, he does the total opposite. First, he ushers Barty away from his desk, practically pushing him off the chair and demanding he succeed in making Regulus eat because it’s a task only his best friend is capable of accomplishing. Afterward, he boots up his computer and finishes a day’s amount of work in an hour, before spending another solid sixty minutes on countless rounds of Solitaire until the temptation to brainlessly scroll through his phone is one too great to resist.

Before long, the upper floor is emptied of all employees, leaving James all in his lonesome with plentiful time spent browsing the internet and accumulating (surface) knowledge on intricate topics like studies closely researching the novel reproductive abilities of eels and a 10-minute video explaining the existence of monotremes. 

He knows he’s reached the limits of his sanity by the time the sun’s set, his desk lamp remaining the only source of light, and the office door to his left finally creaks open.

The dark, disheveled curls are what peeks through first. “Regulus?”

Regulus stops midway at the sound of his name and turns around, squinting like he’s just woken up from a nap that did very little to renew what little sparse energy he runs on throughout the day. “Potter?” His voice is heavy, rasping with the low tinge of an accent that always bleeds through whenever he’s particularly tired or stressed. Yeah, definitely fell asleep on his desk. “What are you doing here? Didn’t Barty tell you to go home?”

“He did.”

Regulus keeps looking at him. James isn’t sure whether it’s for an explanation or the fact that Regulus is still trying to make up his surroundings. Probably both.

“My dad always used to say you can never leave before the boss does.” Well, he never said this to James specifically, expecting his son to take to the world of nepotism without much ado. How terribly wrong he had been.

Regulus sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “It’s the year 2024. There are workplace laws ensuring you can leave at a reasonable time.”

“You haven’t eaten,” James pipes up. He doesn’t know how to argue laws meant to improve working conditions.

“What?”

“You didn’t eat your lunch or send me for dinner. You haven’t eaten today, like at all.”

Regulus’ mouth firmly sets in disapproval. “Thank you for the reminder.”

Difficult to please that one. Sighing, James clicks off his little light and rises to his feet, triggering the automatic lights to switch on with the movement. “Let’s go grab something to eat.” By now, he’s grown well aware of Regulus’ tendency to skip meals. He’s also being awfully informal, shooting around casual requests like most of their coworkers don’t quake in their shoes when Regulus walks past, let alone regard them directly. 

But Regulus is already closing the door behind him before reaching for his phone. To undoubtedly call Barty to pick him up. “No. You should head home so should I. You’re not being paid to do me any favors, Potter.”

“It’s not—I’m not—Hey!” The great fumbling of words as he hastily grabs his bag and jacket, rushing to keep up with him. Seeing how James’ legs are longer, it doesn’t pose as a difficult feat. “Since when is it a crime to ask someone out for dinner?”

Regulus keeps walking, murmuring something softly, very assuming James doesn’t quite catch it or understand it. “Anta muza’ij.”

James bites on his tongue to withhold a grin from blooming forth. It was only recently that James discovered Regulus's habit of murmuring barbed insults in his native language, particularly when around him, or even quietly speaking to himself when under the impression no one listens along. James has found so much sheer joy in this that he's certain he'll never disclose his little secret.

Regulus isn’t the only one whose mother tongue is Arabic.

So, instead, James continues his pleading. “Come with me, please?” Regulus still doesn’t come across as entirely convinced and presses the button calling the elevator. “I really like this place close to the bus stop, it’s pretty much family-run, and the owner Hakeem is very nice too. I mostly go for their shawarma but the falafel they got is really good too—”

Regulus keeps pressing the button, a little more insistent.

“—I think they might be putting crack in the garlic sauce, that’s how good it is. Lucky neither of us got a date after this because that would’ve been quite something kissing with all that dragon breath—”

Regulus looks five seconds away from kicking the elevator doors.

 “—but they keep asking me if I’m ready to marry yet and although their daughter is sweet I—”

“Fine,” Regulus sharply interjects. “I’ll come with you.”

That was surprisingly easy, James thinks.

The walk is brief and mostly consists of James filling the silence, something he’s gotten quite used to like it’s become part of the job description. Being Regulus’ secretary, he’s learned how to read the silence and whether to interpret it as a downright refusal to talk or genuine exhaustion that renders him incapable of even pretending to ignore James. 

“If it isn’t James!” Hakeem merrily exclaims when the bell hanging over the door rings with their arrival. “Oh, and a friend?”

Hakeem is the type of senior citizen who couldn’t identify Beyonce if you pointed her out. Regulus as well as a bunch of other well-known figures simply don’t fall into the range of swiftly-recognizable figures. The same can’t be said for Hakeem’s son, however, especially with how his eyes bulge out of their respective sockets for a brief moment when Regulus takes a seat in one of the chairs James had gestured him to.

“What will it be tonight?” Hakeem asks him as he rubs his hands on a tattered dishcloth. 

“We’ll have a platter to share. Sprite and a water.”

“Coming right up.”

#answered #fic / word on the street is i excel in the sheets.

[queenshelby]

Our Little Secret (Part 49)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Age-Gap, Triggers, Smut

Sean hesitated, unsure of what to say. He wanted to say he was your boyfriend, but he knew that would be a lie. On top of that, he was still reeling from the realization that the man standing before him was a famous actor.

"Um, I'm Sean. I came here with Y/N last night," Sean mumbled, shifting nervously from one foot to the other, wearing nothing but his boxershorts while Cillian let himself inside, carrying a capsule car seat with a baby inside. 

"Right, so where is Y/N?"  Cillian asked, his gaze scanning the room before settling on Sean's somewhat uncomfortable figure. 

"She's just having a shower I think," Sean replied, feeling a little flustered under Cillian's sharp gaze, question after question popping into his mind.  "So, are you her father or something? I mean, it sure would explain the house and the baby, you know,"  Sean asked awkwardly, hoping that his words wouldn't offend Cillian.

Cillian's face twisted slightly, as if he had tasted something sour. "What would make you think that I am Y/N's father?" Cillian  demanded, raising an eyebrow at Sean, who looked taken aback by Cillian's reaction.

"Well, I just assumed, I don't know," Sean shrugged and Cillian let out a deep sigh, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I am not Y/N's father," he clarified tersely, his eyes flashing as he stared at the younger man, which is when, finally, you rushed downstairs to diffuse the situation. 

"What are you doing here Cillian? I said I would pick Mara up at noon,"  you said, your cheeks reddening as you took in the sight of Cillian standing there, his eyes narrowed as they flicked between Sean and you.

"What am I doing here?" Cillian asked sarcastically. "I think the real question is what is he doing here, in my fucking house?" Cillian snarled, gesturing towards Sean with an angry look.

"Oh my god, you cannot be serious!"  you exclaimed, feeling the blood rushing to your face. "Your house? Really?"  you shot back at Cillian, your eyes flashing with anger. 

"Well, I am paying the fucking mortgage so, yes, it's my house until Mara is eighteen and you bringing some stranger home with you to the bed that I paid for is fucking unbelievable," Cillian spat, his sensitive tendencies bubbling to the surface.

As you opened your mouth to argue further, you heard a small sound coming from the carrier that Cillian had placed on to the coffee table. You looked down at your sleeping daughter, Mara, still oblivious to the tension and conflict between her parents.

You let out a loud sigh, the anger subsiding as you realized that it was pointless to keep arguing with Cillian in front of your daughter. Looking at Sean, you could see that he was standing there, also clearly rattled by the situation.

"Can you please leave now Cillian? I don't want you in this house and you need to learn how to respect my boundaries," you asked Cillian calmly while Mara looked up at him, calling out 'dada', which is when Sean's chin dropped. 

He glanced at you with wide eyes, still adjusting to everything that had just unfolded before him. "Hang on a second, he is your ex?" Sean finally choked out, looking from Cillian to you in disbelief.

You nodded calmly while Cillian paced around the room, shaking his head. 

Sean shook his head too, taking a step back.  "This is all just... wow," he said before asking "do you want me to leave, so you can deal with whatever is going on right now? I seem to be making things worse with being here," Sean  offered while looking at you anxiously, not knowing how to proceed.

You shook your head. "No, I want him to leave," you told Sean before looking at Cillian. "Please Cillian," you begged him not to make this situation any worse than it already was.  "Please for Mara's sake."

Cillian looked the embodiment of misery, like a hurricane on the verge of rage, but something flickered in his gaze. A hint of pain that matched your own.

"Alright," he conceded unexpectedly, releasing a sigh that sounded like it came from the very depths of his soul as he carefully picked up Mara's carrier. "I will leave, but I don't want Mara to be around some stranger you brought home for a hookup. You can pick her up at noon, or whenever works for you," Cillian said, his voice still rough and hurting.

There was a note of sadness in his eyes as he gazed at you, Mara, and Sean and you sighed, feeling a pang of guilt for the situation, but knowing you couldn't change it now.

"Fine, I will come by yours at noon to pick her up. This is what we had already agreed upon last night anyway," you reminded him  , trying to calm Cillian down, aware of Sean's presence and the awkwardness that was still lingering in the room.

"Alright, I'll see you at noon then," Cillian finally said, turning on his heels before leaving your house, closing the door softly behind him.

You turned to face Sean and saw the look of shock and confusion on his face.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause any problems," he apologized, his voice barely above a whisper.

"It's okay. It's not your fault. He is just -," you began to say. "Never mind. It's complicated," you finished, letting out a deep sigh as you looked up at Sean. 

"I can see that," Sean told you softly, his eyes filled with concern. "And wow, I mean, did you actually used to date? Because he is a fair bit older than you, you know?"  Sean commented, his eyebrows furrowing as he tried to imagine the two of you together.

"I know, but I never minded it to be honest. I was really in love with him, and we almost moved in together too," you shared, feeling compelled to open up to Sean about your past relationship with Cillian. 

"And then what happened?" Sean asked, his voice barely a whisper as his eyes locked onto you.

You took a deep breath, swallowing the lump in your throat as you tried to gather your thoughts. "He cheated on me with someone older and prettier I suppose,"  you murmured, shaking your head. 

Sean leaned against the kitchen counter, his gaze fixed on you as he listened to your story. His expression was sympathetic, but you could tell that he was fascinated by the revelation.

"I'm really sorry that happened to you," he said, his voice laced with genuine sympathy.

"It's fine now, honestly. Mara is a blessing to the both of us, but we really do not need each other, " you lied to Sean and to yourself.  You could see the questions in Sean's eyes, but you did not feel like answering them at the moment. You knew that talking about Cillian would only bring up a whirlwind of emotions that you had buried deep inside for so long.

"Well, I should get going now," Sean said, standing up from where he languished. He was about to leave when he suddenly leaned in for a kiss. Despite the awkwardness and hesitations from their previous encounter, his lips crashed on yours in a fiery kiss, tasting you, possessing you for those few brief moments.

You found yourselves standing there, lips locked, time stood still until he pulled away.

"Can I see you again?" Sean asked, causing you to smile.

"I would like that," you answered and, even though the sex wasn't great, you enjoyed his company.

The way Sean made you feel was new and different. He was kind, funny and you couldn't help but feel drawn to him.

"Great," he replied, his eyes gleaming in anticipation. "Should I call you this weekend?"

You nodded, smiling wide. "Yes, I would like that."

***

A few hours later, you picked Mara up from Cillian's house and, by the time he opened the door for you, his demour had changed.

"Come in, I will get her ready for you,"  Cillian said, his voice softer now, seemingly having calmed down from earlier.

You walked inside and followed him up the stairs, your heart racing as you stepped over the threshold into the very room that Cillian had shared with you as a couple, before everything had fallen apart.

You waited in the nursery while Cillian changed Mara's diaper and dressed her in the clothes that you had brought for her. The whole time, you couldn't help but feel the weight of history between the two of you, the memories that still lingered in every corner of the house.

"I am sorry about earlier. It was not place to judge you,"  Cillian finally spoke, keeping his gaze fixed on your daughter as he changed her clothes. 

"No it wasn't Cillian. I have a right to move on," you said, feeling a surge of defiance and confidence rising within you. 

Cillian didn't respond immediately, as if he was taken aback by your outburst. Then, slowly, he raised his gaze to meet yours, the pain and hurt in his eyes palpable.

"Have you?" he asked , cocking his head quizzically, as if trying to understand where you were coming from.

"Have I what?" you asked, confused by his question.

"Have you moved on?"  Cillian repeated, his voice softer now, his gaze unwavering as he studied your face intently.

You hesitated, unsure of how to answer. The truth was, you didn't know. Yes, you had moved on in the sense that you had started seeing other people and trying to build a life for yourself and Mara. But you couldn't deny that there was still a part of you that held on to the past, to the memories you had shared with Cillian.

"I don't know," you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Well, I certainly haven't, and I won't, which is why I got so angry when I saw this guy, at your house,"  Cillian said, his voice filled with raw emotion.

You felt a pang in your heart as you looked at him, the pain and hurt in his eyes were evident.

"I understand, Cillian," you said softly. "But I have to move on, for Mara's sake and mine."

Cillian nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on Mara as he held her in his arms.

"I know," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"But it's hard for me to see you with someone else. Especially when it's someone who is so much, -" Cillian began to say  , but stopped himself before the words could leave his lips.

"Someone who is what?" you asked, curious to know what he had been about to say.

"Younger, and probably more suitable for you, I suppose," Cillian said, his gaze still fixed on Mara, his voice laced with sadness and pain.

You felt a lump rise in your throat as you listened to him speak. It was clear that he was still hurting over what had happened between the two of you, and it broke your heart to see him like this.

"I tried Cillian, I really did, but you were the one who cheated on me and knocked another woman up and absolutely none of that had anything to do with age," you told him, tears welling up in your eyes.

Cillian reached out and took your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, unable to meet your gaze, his eyes glued to the ground.

"I know, and I am sorry. I messed up and I can't take it back," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But, you know, I, -" he began to say again, but stopped himself, seemingly unable to find the right words.

You brushed a tear from your cheek, taking a deep breath to calm your racing emotions as silence evolved you for at least a minute or two.

"I came by this morning to tell you that Amanda has been lying. She isn't pregnant. She never has been pregnant. It was all a big fat lie and I know that this doesn't change the fact that I cheated on you, but I just wanted you to know anyway,"  Cillian confessed, finally looking up to meet your eyes, filled with regret and remorse.

"Why am I not surprised?" you uttered, your voice filled with disgust as your mind reeled from the enormity of Cillian's confession. "But you are right, it really doesn't matter to me Cillian,"  you added, trying to mask the hurt beneath your words with a shrug conceding defeat.

Cillian let out a deep sigh, raking his fingers through his dark hair, searching for any scrap of misplaced self-control. He knew he had pushed you both to the edge, but the knowledge only added to the battleground of emotions roiling inside of him, standing between him and forgiving you.

You felt them locked in each other's gaze for a long moment and you struggled to find the right words.

"I gotta go," you  finally said, breaking the silence and the tension that had hung over the room like a thick fog.

"I understand," Cillian replied, giving your hand a squeeze one last time before releasing it. "I'll see you next week," he then said before giving Mara a kiss goodbye. 

You nodded, distractedly, unable to muster up any more words as you left the house, feeling a strange mix of emotions swirling within you.

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred @blondie-22

#cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader

[mx-paint]

Deleted the post earlier bc I thought I was being stupid, but after seeing this shit for the fifth time in a half hour, I have to say that I really wish I lived in the supposed universe that the "anti-woke" people claim to live in by saying they can't have freedom of speech anymore because they can't be racist or homophobic or transphobic anymore or else they'll "be cancelled"

#those idjits are so terminally online it hurta like physically #idk how you can say 'you can say shit anymore' #then be cheering when 'cis is a slur on shitter! they made drag and any performing trans person a sex crime!' but unironically #'i get bullies by people asking why its so hard for me to listen so i send death threats to a gay kids school' #be so serious. like be real with me right now. #'anti woke' and 'pro centrist ideals' are really short for 'im a dick but ill hide behind a crybaby persona whenever someone questions it' #'im a centrist i treat all sidea equally <3' *posts literal nazi propaganda* *posts racism hiding behind anti communism* #*posts anti muslim and atheist cartoons* *posts actual pro muslim and atheist article but because they beat up a trans kid* #*posts how the strikers should die* #*reblogs from a literal pedo* #also the guy with half a million subs that yt recommended me #his vids were about the same as this actually #if this blows up somehow and i get death threats from them im going to laugh #transphobia tw #racism tw #homophobia tw #ask to tag #'a guy lost a couple of business opportunities cause them queers told on him' #a girl was killed at work bc someone thought that her countrys flag was a pride flag. #this year. #one of the most popular translation companies recently licensed a author that says trans and gay people are rapists #(and the book she writes is about a gay couple!)

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

#sorry i got really into my feelings about mark hoffman again #the very specific version of him in my brain that i really really wish i had the time and energy to properly share with you guys #saw #well until i muster the energy to explode all of my feelings out into a fic. if you want to TRY and understand #know that my three biggest hoffman fic insps right now are as follows #your best kept secret hoffman. a series of mistakes hoffman. and rushed like a dreadful wind hoffman. #there is a very clear throughline just know i am extremely emotionally compromised rn #thinking about theee fics vs the canon path hoffman spirals down #something something the absolute tragedy of watching a man's descent into madness #the transformation of a man into a monster #and what could have saved him from himself and kramer's corruption #sorry i'm rambling so much oh my god i was just having such a crying fit out of nowhere about this #do you think he could feel it happening. do you think he was aware he was losing his mind. #the script version of him fucks with me so bad. the crazed rankings and the longer hair and him not being well kept anymore #it's impossible to think he didn't know he was deteriorating #fuuuck okay i need to either chill or write a whole longfic rn #i project on that guy so much i truly don't know if i could properly write my vision of him #until i do something more substantial the full extent of my hoffman exists for me and my boyfriend only. they get me like no one else #well ginny and jenna also get me. please read best kept secret and a series of mistakes Oh My God #where am i going with this. i like tag rambling actually this is a nice way to do it without forcing EVERYONE to read my delirium #anyways if you've read all of this i think i love you? feel free to dm me about hoffman and my very specific headcanons and aus #maybe soon i'll try and start writing my fics about this tragic man #i could never say any of this on twitter btw they'd string me up for my opinions on him as a sad wet beast who could have been fixed #if only he hadn't been weaponized first #god i'm too tired to even be as embarrassed about this as i should be. thought i unlearned cringe already #but i've been spending way too much time on twitter and they HAAATE hoffman there #rip. i know it's not that serious but i'm sensitive rn and hate feeling lonely in my thoughts #ok bye for real otherwise i'll never shut up. i might tag ramble more often bc this was therapeutic in a way i needed badly #cat chat