#i have so much to say but i don't know where to start

[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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meme of the chapter:

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x reader smut #gojo x reader fluff #gojo x reader angst #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru fluff #smut #fluff #angst #gojo satoru fanfiction #suguru x reader #choso x reader #long fic #jjk fanfiction #jjk series #romance #fake dating #fake marriage #neighbors au #ongoing series #humor #slow burn #mutual pining #enemies to lovers #gojo x reader series

[h2llish]

i've been following your blog for a while and absolutely adore your writing!

if its okay i'd love to see something with either leona or jamil (up to you!) and a reader who falls asleep on their shoulder during some sort of nrc road trip.. i'm not sure if nrc would have buses per say considering all the magic and stuff but the concept of an nrc school trip seems super interesting to me so if you're up for the request by all means just have fun with it!! i do notice that your requests are semi open so feel free to decline ofc !

— ☁️

⁀➷ ˖ ROAD TRIP DROWSINESS

notes ─── hi anon! i’m so happy you like my writing! i don't think they'd have buses at nrc because of the mirror, but crowley would probably spring a sudden road trip on them which would just confuse the students, because why? (i also imagine their bus would probably be a bit fancier? idk how to explain it but nothing like the busses i'm used to.)

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR ─── a wave of drowsiness leads you to find comfort on his shoulder ♡ fluff, gender neutral, can be read platonic or romantic, not proofread

transportation for students at nrc was not hard, all they had to do was enter the dark mirror and then they found themselves safely at their destination. so if it was that easy, why in the world was the headmage so adamant that they boarded this bus like they were kids back in middle school? ─ a road trip was his very (might many students say stupid) answer.

the only person who seemed to not have a problem with this sudden turn of events, was the magicless prefect from ramshackle. you didn't give any complaints or groan about using the easy way to get to the destination. you just nodded when the headmage announced the decision.

students were chosen at random, names drawn from a hat (a method the headmage seemed to rely on often).  and as the prefect, and the designated scapegoat for everything crowley did, you were of course among that group, with your dire beast other half. 

“i don't get it,” grim frowned, sitting on your shoulder as you approached the bus, where many familiar faces waited to board. “why can't we just use the mirror?”

ace was walking alongside you, being one of the people drawn to join the group. he had decided to met you at ramshackle, knowing you would inevitably have to board the bus as well. “i think the headmage called it some sort of bonding experience. don't know how a hours-long road will be a bonding experience.”

grim grumbled, turning his head to look at your face. you have yet to say anything to add to the conversation. “whaddya’ think, [name]?”

“what?” you blinked, sending a glance to the dire beast before looking ahead of you once more. “what do i think about what?”

“were you even listening to anything we just said?” ace sighed. 

you hummed, “i’ve learned to tune you guys out the moment you start speaking.” ─ and then you were wincing as the two of them shouted, leaning your head away from the monster as he and ace expressed how offended they were.

you sighed, this was going to be a long ride.

and right you were. 

things were okay (as okay as a group of irritable teenage boys with magic on a bus could be) during the first hour. but as the first hour turned to half, and you found yourself growing drowsy, you attempted to doze off, at least for a good twenty minutes. you were unsuccessful, as the moment you closed your eyes, you were quickly opening them to glance at a yelling grim.

epel and sebek, also being among the names drawn, were sitting next to you. epel and grim looked ready to pounce on an unnamed student who seemed to have picked a fight with them. ace didn't do much to stop the argument, in fact, he was actively encouraging it. and sebek, while he made an attempt to hold back a seething grim, was not of much help either. 

you sighed, but made no move to stop it ─ you expected something to happen eventually, and you weren't all that up to being the “reasonable” one of the group. you aren't sure what the argument was about, but neither did you care. if grim got in trouble for attacking a student, it would come back to bite you, but that was something for future you to worry about.

you glanced around the bus, before your attention landed on the savanaclaw housewarden sitting alone. ─ your friends continued to argue with the random guy, and you were sure they had no intention of ending the argument anytime soon. and you would rather sleep off some time on the road rather than listen to your friends go back and forth with someone you didn't even know the name of. you stood from your seat, uncaring of whether or not it was okay to do so as you approached the empty seat. 

leona had his head down, probably napping, the same thing you wanted to do. when you sat down beside him his ears twitched and he lifted his head to look at you, probably intending to scowl and scare off whoever had been stupid enough to sit beside him, until he realized it was you.

“what are you doing?” he frowned at you, but you went unfazed.

“sitting next to you, obviously.”

leona rolled his eyes, “why?”

instead of giving a verbal answer, you pointed at your friends, where sebek now had a grip on the scruff of grim’s neck, keeping him from jumping at the student. ace was laughing, offering no help to the half-fae. epel was no better than grim, with sebek’s arm held out in front of him, keeping him from doing anything.

"so you came to bother me instead?" he asked, and you looked at him straight-faced.

"yup."

leona sighed, but he didn't tell you to scram (not like you would if he did). he didn't say anything else, only close his eyes again and turning away, likely to try and nap. you weren't offended by his lack of reply, leaning your head back against the seat and trailing your eyes over the bus and your peers.

the longer you sat in somewhat silence ─ save for the incoherent yelling from your friends, you had for the most part zoned out, and the chatter of those on board ─ you found yourself falling to the drowsiness that have been interrupted before. you closed your eyes and let the movement of the bus guide you to sleep.

leona was awake, annoyed by the bus and those on the bus. his ears twitched when he heard your breathing slow beside him and he lifted his head, just as your head lolled to the side and you leaned against his shoulder.

he sighed, but made no move to push you off, glancing around you at the rest of the students of nrc, who were all either sleeping themselves, or chatting with friends. he leaned his head back, eyeing you as you shifted for a moment before relaxing again.

"where'd [name] go?" leona could hear your friends ask, no longer distracted by the argument that they were having with the random student.

he looked back at them, just in time to catch ace's eye, who was the first to see you sleeping against leona. he looked ready to say something, but leona narrowed his eyes on the first year. ace immediately shut his mouth, grinning awkwardly as he turned back to his friends.

leona huffed, looking back down at you to make sure you didn't stir. he adjusted in more comfortable position, an arm resting behind you on the seat, allowing you to lean closer, and hopefully, be more comfortable than leaning against his shoulder the way you had. and then he closed his eyes and joined you in a nap for the rest of the ride. (at least until they stopped for a break.)

this wasn't proofread so there will be probably be mistakes, i'll try to come back to edit later!

do not repost, translate, copy or run my writing through an ai

#𓂃 ࣪ ˖ ❝ requests ❞ #shrimpnetwrk #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x male reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #x male reader #twst x male reader #twst x reader #twst x gender neutral reader #leona kingscholar #leona kingsholar x reader #leona kingscholar x male reader #leona kingscholar x gender neutral reader

[luvfy0dor]

“Your Handprint's on my Soul ♡⁠˖” BSD men x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

╰┈➤ Osamu Dazai, Chuuya Nakahara, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Nikolai Gogol

warnings; established relationship (Fyodor only), first interactions, kisses, Dazais can be platonic or romantic

description; aus/tropes with BSD characters, inspired loosley by my old post about book types/tropes

A/n; CHAT IM SPEEDRUNNING THIS AS I WRITE THE A/N IM ONLY 2/3 OF THE WAY DONE W NIKOLAIS AND NO ONE ELSE IS DONE EXCWPT DAZAIS BULLET POINT AND ITS 2 HRS TILL POST TIME GOTTA LOCK IN ALSO TYSM FOR 700 💖💖💖

⑅ Osamu Dazai ⑅

• There was only one bed when Dazai appeared on your doorstep one evening. You don't know where he came from and he wouldn't tell you, but he would certainly tell you he wasn't letting you sleep anywhere but the bed, even if you wouldnt allow him to either.

ೃ⁀➷

'Knock knock knock' was the first thing you heard when you woke from your slumber in the middle of the night. You felt a little unsettled, but still tiptoed out of bed to the door, peering through the peephole only to see the big head of your coworker and friend on the other side of the door. You huffed and unlocked the deadbolt and opened up. "What are you doing here this late at night?" You asked, rubbing your right eye with the palm of your hand and yawning. "Oh, nothing much, just here for a stroll! It's been quite the long time no see, no?" He says, letting himself in and taking off his shoes at the door. "I saw you..." You peered over at the digital clock on your nightstand table down the hallway. "Like, 7 hours ago. And you texted me 3." You sigh and pull up your pajama pants. "Can I sleepover?" Your brows furrowed at his question.

"Can you sleepover- Osamu, we have work in the morning and- ugh, you know what, yeah, you're already here and it's raining, isn't it? How are you completely dry? I...I have so many questions that I'm not gonna ask right now. You can sleep in my bed, just don't touch anything else in my room, especially nothing in or on my nightstand, got it?" He shook his head and steered you towards your room with his hands on your shoulders. "Oh no, that'd be rude of me to take your bed! I'll take the couch." You shook your head and yanked him gently by the wrist. "No, you're taking the bed-" "why don't we both take the bed?" You were silent for a moment. "Yeah, sure, I don't want to keep going back and forth with this." You say with a sleepy shrug. He walked in front of you to your bedroom like he lived here on the regular and tossed his coat aside. You crawled back into the bed, pulling the covers up to your nose and feeling the bed dip beside you when Dazai crawled in too. He also took his fair share of the blankets, but you soon realized that Dazai was a blanket hog. "Oh my gosh, I'm gonna kick you if y'dont stop stealin' all the blanket!" You groan, yanking the soft material back towards you. "I am not stealing all the blanket, you're very dramatic." He says, rolling over and scooching closer so that he can still be completely covered by the blanket without yanking it back. Each time you moved, you bunched up more of the blanket and pulled it closer to yourself, leaving Dazai uncovered from his right foot to his knee. "And you call me a blanket hog." He starts to steal some of the comforter back, but you toss it over him and roll over to press your front against his, cuddling him. "You come to my house unannounced and steal my blankets..you can just be another source of heat if you wanna act like this." You sleepily say, eyes still closed as you slur out your words. His face was one of surprise for a moment before it melted into a smile. He put a hand on your head and pulled you closer. "And you know what? That's fine with me."

⑅ Chuuya Nakahara ⑅

• Chuuya reminds me of that one soulmate au where whenever you get marks on your skin, they appear on your soulmates too. Small scars, ink scribbles, and bruises would often appear on Chuuyas, but never because of his own doing.

ೃ⁀➷

Earlier in the morning, Chuuya had noticed a new doodle on his forearm, this time it was one of a cat. Usually it was partially colored-in hearts or imperfect stars, but he always found other drawings of yours to be more amusing. He was currently relaxing on his couch after a long day of work, shoes kicked off and pajamas put on. He'd gotten bored of whatever nonsense he was watching on the TV and decided to examine the kitty on his arm a little more before picking up a pen and deciding to draw one next to it with a little heart in between them. He rolled his eyes at himself, Chuuya Nakahara, the best martial artist in Yokohama and port mafia executive was doodling kitty cats and hearts on his own arm to appease some soulmate he didnt even know. He sighed and leaned back again. It didn't take long for you to notice and quickly scribble a reply that read "Wow, finally. [poorly drawn eye roll emoji] took you long enough to actually interact w/ me! Started to think I didn't have a soulmate." You felt giddy over the whole thing. Yeah, it was stupid, but he drew a cat in love with the cat that you drew! This was the interaction that you had been waiting for since middle school when all the other kids were writing back and forth with their soulmates so much that they'd make frequent trips to the bathroom to wash off old pen ink since they had no phones to text with yet. Teachers hated it, but everyone was already willing to put their education on the back burner for these, essentially, randos. Not Chuuya, though. Chuuya never liked writing on his skin, the way the ballpoint dragged across his pale flesh made him shiver, and so he never replied to you. His focus on other goals also contributed to that ignorance.

After many years though, he finally decided to entertain the whole idea. Chuuya didn't care about who his soulmate was, if he found someone that wasn't them and he loved them, then that was that. He didn't think the universe should decide the only person he could truly be with, so he dated on his own accord. He checked his arm for your reply as if he was checking a watch and he watched the ink appear on his arm, letter by letter and stroke by stroke. He smiled a little and grabbed his pen again. "I never really cared to, no offense." You scoffed when you read that, crossing out the no. "Full offense taken. Anyways, where you from?" He thought on whether or not he really wanted to tell you, so he decided to play it safe. "I'm not telling you that immediately, what are ya, crazy? How old are you?" The number 21 quickly appeared. "And your name?" You started writing out letters, but the ink quickly faded. Chuuya raised an eyebrow and went to write out a couple stray question marks, but the writing came back in a different color. The ink was blue this time. "Y/n." "Okay, y/n, not that you couldn't be lying, I live in Yokohama, Japan. Can I get your number to make this easier?" You smiled and fist pumped. "Yeah, it's ---/---/----." You received a message about four minutes later. "This is better, I have work in the morning and I don't want to have to scrub off any more ink than this tomorrow." You laid in bed, perpendicular to the mattress with your arms hanging off the edge of the bed as you typed out a reply. Your conversation went on for another hour getting to know eachother before he told you that it'd be best for him to go to bed. You wished him a goodnight and he did the same. You knew it'd take a while to build a strong friendship and maybe even relationship, but the thought made you excited nonetheless.

⑅ Fyodor Dostoevsky ⑅

• When I think of my own highschool academic greatness (I'm failing algebra2/trig) I think of Fyodors geniusness and how much highschool/college aus remind me of him. I don't know if he'd try to juggle a relationship and school, but if he did he'd help you be the best student possible while securing that valedictorian title for himself.

ೃ⁀➷

Fyodors slim hand gripped his pencil loosely and moved it acrossed the paper he was given for a written assignment. His hair was pulled back in a super small pony tail and his eyes flickered over to the clock every now and again, waiting for the bell to ring with each passing second. He promised to meet you in the library during lunch to study for your AP Bio test you had coming up at the end of the week. He never minded helping you study, it'd help him retain the knowledge anyways. Finally, the familiar 'ding' sounded throughout the school and he packed up his stuff and left. He walked through the hallways and down the stairs to the library where you were already waiting for him. You smiled and waved him over, opening your school-loaned laptop. "Hey Fedya. I know we always spend lunches together but like, thank you for helping me, I'd be screwed otherwise." You say with a small laugh. He smiles and sits down next to you. "No problem, I don't mind, I did really well in that class anyways." He said while watching you type in your password and pull up an assignment. "Yeah, it's just about- oh! You kept the ponytail in?" You asked him with a smile. You had put his hair up that morning while waiting for the first bell. "Ofcourse I did. It keeps my neck cool." He tells you, tracing shapes on the small of your back with his thumb as he read over the assignment. "This is easy, Myshka, what's the trouble?" "I can't grasp ecology." You say, feeling yourself start to nod off. He raises an eyebrow and hums. "Well, do you sleep during your class like this?" He grins a little. You hum in denial and open your eyes again, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. "No, I just stayed up late last night cramming and stuff..." You say, resting your head against your fist. "Well that's probably why you're having trouble, you work when you should be sleeping."

You knew he was right, you had other classes that you were doing work for and you had put AP Bio on the back burner because you, a) didn't want to do it, b) didn't think you could do it, and c) saw that you'd feel more successful seeing all those 0's in other classes turn into grades. "I know, I know." You groaned. "But maybe we can just get this one done quick since my laptop is already open." You reaffirm and lean your head on his shoulder. He nods and re-reads the question before asking you what answer you'd pick first and why. You told him and he told you if you were right or wrong, briefly explaining why you were incorrect if that was the case. You were only 5 questions in before Fyodor realized you weren't answering him. He looked to his side and realized you had fallen asleep on his shoulder. He smiled and closed your laptop for you and let you sleep against him for a little while, knowing he'd finish it with you later, very determined to help you get all of your work finally done so you could relax. You clearly needed it.

⑅ Nikolai Gogol ⑅

• Nikolai would be a great, flirty barista, which is why I think coffee shop au would be perfect for him. His ability would be of great use winning over a couple cents in tips as well as your heart.

ೃ⁀➷

When you walked into your favorite, local coffee shop, the first thing you noticed was an unfamiliar face behind the counter. A tall man with long, braided white hair stood with a shaker in hand, clearly working hard to perfect s customers drink order. His eyes literally up when he saw you walking towards the counter, quickly pouring the liquid into a scribbled-on cup and capping it. "I'll be with you on one minute!" He says with a toothy grin, handing the drink to the lady waiting on the far side of the shop. He quickly returns to the cash register to take your order. "Hey! How can I help you?" He asks you and straightens out his apron. "Hi, uhm, can I have a (favorite drink), please?" He punched some stuff into the cash register and the visible screen in front of you showed you your total. "Anything else?" His eyes stared back into your own, making your heart race in your chest when you noticed just how beautiful he was. His differently pigmented eyes and sharp jawline along with the way his pointed teeth flashed when he smiled had your cheeks heating up pretty quickly. Not to mention his hair and physique.

As he was about to point out your staring with a cheeky expression, you muttered a 'yes.' He nodded. "Okay, your total is $4.20." You pulled out the first bill that wasn't a $1 from your wallet and handed it to him, Nikolais eyebrows raising when you put a $20 in his hands, but he stuck it in the register and counted up your change. "Okay, $15.80 is your change, can I get a name?" He asked you while giving you your change before grabbing a cup and sharpie. "Y/n." You quickly said, dropping all of the $15.20 in the top jar. "Ohhhh, wow! Y/n might as well take me on a date with a tip that big~!." He giggles and turns to make your drink for you while you wait with a warm face and stomach full of butterflies. "I don't think I'd mind taking you out on one." You say with a sense of confidence. "Hm, I might have to take you up on that." It's not long before he has your drink made, using a glowy portal to grab the sharpie on the counter relatively far away and scribbling something in your cup again. "Alright, here ya go! Have a good one!" He hands the drink to you, smiling a little bit when he feels your hand brush against as you take it from him. "Thank you, you too." You call back, turning around and walking away. Once you're out of the café, you rotate the cup 360° to figure out what he wrote on it, only to find ten digits acrossed the plastic. You smiled and your heartbeat picks up ten fold. You make sure to take a picture of it in a good lighting to ensure the visibility of all of the numbers, you might just have to arrange a date with him now.

A/n; AHHHHHHHHHHHH next time event post <3

#bungo stray dogs #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd fanfic #bsd headcanons #fanfic #fanfiction #bsd fyodor #fyodor x reader #bungo stray dogs fyodor #fyodor bsd #bungou stray dogs fyodor #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor x you #bungou stray dogs nikolai #nikolai x reader #nikolai gogol #bsd nikolai #bsd dazai osamu #dazai bungou stray dogs #bsd dazai #bungou stray dogs dazai #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #bungo stray dogs chuuya #chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya #bungou stray dogs chuuya #chuuya nakahara

[oneforthemunny]

what about mafia!eddie and reader going through a rough patch and all they do is fight and kitten tells him that they should take a break and i'll leave the rest up to you....

oof ok let's 180 back to angst. buckle up angsty babes!

"Maybe," Your voice trembled, sucking in a shaky breath. "Maybe I should go stay with my parents... for a while."

Eddie's head whipped around, eyes wide with something you couldn't quite detect, a new look teetering between anger and something worse. It made your spine tingle with chills, icy and fearful.

"What?" Eddie's voice was soft, much quieter than the raised tone from before.

"I-I think," You tried to still your voice, throat raw and aching from the back and forth screaming match of the night. "I think I- we need to be apart for a while." You whispered, refusing to meet his gaze, looking at the couch behind him instead.

"Why?" Eddie barked, teeth gritting and baring in fury, heart pounding with a fear he hadn't felt in a long time.

"Eddie," You sighed, shaking your head at him. "Seriously? All we do is fight." A fresh wave of tears rolled over you, nose burning.

"That's not-"

"-Eddie," You stopped him, gaze meeting his. You could see it now, could see that the foreign look was fear. Your heart sank, taking a shuddering breath to calm yourself. "We're just... We can't stop fighting."

Eddie stilled, frozen across from you. "I'm tired of fighting." You admitted softly, shoulders slumping in defeat.

Days, weeks of bickering- back and forth until your voices were raw, doors slamming, then retreating back with careful apologies, only to repeat the cycle over and over. You were dizzy from it, from trying to get him to see, to understand your point. He was so stubborn.

What started as a what if silly conversation, turned into a bickering, fueled into a full blown fight that seemed never ending.

"You'd be a good dad. You're so good with the boys." You hummed, leaning against his chest.

"Yeah? You'll never know." Eddie scoffed casually.

You frowned, pushing up to look at him. "What?"

Eddie blinked. "C'mon, you know I can't have kids. Not doin' this job. Won't do it to some poor kid."

"But I'll never know?" Your lips pursed. "That's a pretty shitty thing to say to me. Pretty bold." You pushed off of him, out of his hold.

Eddie huffed, running a hand down his face. "Where're you- Seriously? We've talked about this, have we not?"

"Yeah, we have." You huffed, cheeks burning. "But saying I'll never know- do you not see how that's a little rude?"

"What?" Eddie threw his hands up. "You won't. Not with me, anyways."

You gawked at him, surprised, furious, hurt. "You're such a fuckin' asshole. I can't believe you." You snapped, stomping off.

That was the first night. Both of you stubbornly coming for the other, agitation building over and over and over, piling on top of previous fury until you'd finally burst. Leaving you standing here, where you are now, defeated and ready to throw the towel in, too tired to fight.

"I-I- Baby, if this is about the kids thing, look, I told you-"

Your sigh cut Eddie off. "It's not about that." You ran a hand down your face. "I can't- I can't keep trying to explain my side of things when you aren't listen. You won't listen."

"Then what? What is it?" Eddie's franticness turned to angry urgency. "Just say what you mean! Say it!"

You didn't flinch at his anger, at his outburst. Your lip wobbled, taking a deep breath in. "I've said it." You muttered. "I can't- I won't be in a relationship that's one sided." Eddie felt sick at your words.

"I understand that you don't want certain things, and I respect that, I do. But I've changed a lot of things in my life for you, because I love you." You continued, tears brimming your vision. "All I'm asking is for a little change in return. Not with the kids thing-" You cut him off before he could start, sensing what he was going to say.

"But there's two of us in this relationship." You look at him. "I just wish you could try to see my side of things sometimes."

"I do-" Eddie spat in defense.

"-When I'm agreeing with you, you do." You snapped back. "But when it's something you disagree with, you shut me down, dismiss it because what you say is law-"

"-It is not-"

"-And I'm tired of it." You look at him pleadingly. "I think we both need some time apart to figure out what we want. What we do from here."

Eddie felt tears burn, threatening to fall. "I know what I want." He gritted through clenched teeth. "I want you. I've always wanted you. I don't need time to figure out because it's not changing."

You nodded slowly. "I know you do." You whispered. "But this is what I'm talking about. That's what you want."

Eddie felt sick, heart sinking lower and lower into the pit in his stomach. "I need time apart." The room was silent, your voice cutting through. "I need to figure it out."

"Are you- You're breaking up with me?" Eddie sounded petulant, voice crackingly pathetic that he hadn't been since he was a teenager.

Your shoulder shuddered, exhaling shakily. "I didn't say that." You shook your head. "I-I don't want to, that's not what this is. I just... I need to be able to think. We both do."

Eddie blinked, vision bleary with tears that fell. "Alright," He nodded, ignoring the ache in his chest, heart splitting in two. "If that's what you want."

Watching you drive off, slow down the road, Eddie ignored the screaming in his head to run after you. To pull you out of the car, demand you come back, bring you back himself. This is what I'm talking about, your voice played in a painful loop in his mind.

You called him like you said you would, hours later when you got to your parent's house. A quiet, quick phone call. His heart still swelled, lifting when you muttered a fast, "love you" before hanging up.

Sitting in the stillness of the empty house, Eddie had never felt so lonely in his entire life. It was horrifying, thinking that his future could be like this- a life without you in it. Eddie decided right then and there, he'd do whatever he needed to make sure that wasn't his reality.

#oneforthemunny #munnytalks #mafia!eddie munson #eddie munson au #eddie munson #mafia!eddie munson x reader #mafia!eddie #mafia!au #mafia au #eddie munson x fem!reader angst #eddie munson x reader angst #eddie munson angst #mafia!eddie x reader #mafia!eddie munson angst #eddie x fem!reader #eddie stranger things #eddie my love <3 #eddie x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #oneforthemunny blurbs #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things 4 #stranger things

[042502]

𔓕 ່ ⃝⃝🏀 𝗟𝗔𝗞𝗘𝗥𝗦 𝗩𝗦 𝗖𝗘𝗟𝗧𝗜𝗖𝗦 : 𓈒 𝇋♡︎𝇌

⠀⠀⠀𐙚 ˚. ࣪ ⊹ . . . pairing : chris sturniolo x fem!reader.

⠀⠀⠀𐙚 ˚. ࣪ ⊹ . . . summary : You go to watch the basketball game where ⠀⠀⠀your boyfriend Chris plays, after the new victory you go to rest ⠀⠀⠀at home and things get heated.

⠀⠀⠀𐙚 ˚. ࣪ ⊹ . . . content : smut. dirty talk, rude.

⠀⠀⠀𐙚 ˚. ࣪ ⊹ . . . notes : My first language is not English. I don't know ⠀⠀⠀much about basketball, I wrote this from ignorance. Below I ⠀⠀⠀leave you the masterlist so you can read more content like this.

The stadium was dyed with the colors of the Los Angeles Lakers and the Boston Celtics, the screaming fans and Christopher's recent score against the Lakers. The stadium cameras focused on me when Chris signaled for me, he had dedicated the score to me. I smile excitedly and blow him a kiss from the stands. My beautiful boy, He was in his best stage of the season, and even more motivated, because Matt was on the team too, accompanying him. The Celtics had bought him for 130 million, closing the closing for him to start playing this year. After his great performance, all eyes were on him, it had been a unique opportunity. I sit back down without erasing the smile from my face.

“I recorded a video, look,” my best friend Camila, who came to accompany me, tells me.

“I get excited when he scores goals for me,” I say smiling without taking my eyes off the screen until the video ends. “Can you send me the video later?”

The black-haired girl nods and I thank her and then turn my attention back to the game. There were still eight minutes left, but victory was assured. 25 point from Nate and 28 point from Chris, both scores with assists from Matt. Although the game could turn around, the Lakers players looked tired. I accompanied Chris to all his games, I couldn't miss any of them, since according to him it gave him security to see me in the stands. And who was I to deny him? Apart from my work as a model and influencer, it allowed me to have certain freedoms over time. Being the girlfriend of a basketball player of Chris's stature was not easy, he was in her best stage of promotion in the world of basketball. He needed company all the time and I loved spending time with him.

They signal the end of the game and the stadium crowd went crazy celebrating the Celtics' victory. I hug Camila while we scream happily, another victory for the list. The stadium screens reflected images of the team celebrating.

Chris lies on the bed and sighs tiredly, but with a smile. I look at him and smile while I change. We had just arrived home. On TV they showed the interview they did with him when the game ended.

"Who do you dedicate this victory to Christopher?" the journalist asks, Chris smiles.

"To my girlfriend, who always accompanies me to all the games, is my unconditional support."

He looked at Chris tenderly, taking my eyes off the TV.

“Oh you're so cute” he pulled me over to him and he gave me one of those smiles, it made me melt. "I love you."

“Me to you,” he says, placing me on top of him, leaving my legs on either side of his hips, resting his hands on my ass, pressing me against him to give me a kiss. “Thank you for coming,” he brushes my hair away from my face and leaves it behind my ear.

God, I'm so in love with him.

“It wasn't going to be missed, you know,” I admit, resting my hands on his abdomen without stopping to look at him. I admired everything about him, everything he did to get to where he was and I loved accompanying him even more.

He asks me a question but he ignored the questions and I take advantage of having him this close to look at his mouth and give him a short kiss, which ends up being a passionate kiss. Chris's hands run down my back under my dress, caressing me with his fingertips, causing goosebumps to break out on my skin. Without letting go of my mouth, he turns us over on the mattress and puts me under it, settling between my legs.

“Mmh” I gasp, throwing my head back when he starts kissing my neck and presses himself against me, rubbing his crotch against mine. Well, I wasn't that tired from the game. He held himself with one hand, resting it on the bed and with the other he caressed my thighs, kissing down to the beginning of the neckline of my dress. The clothes were already starting to get in the way.

With his help he removed his shirt and he took off my dress and thong, leaving me completely naked. He scans me from head to toe, making me blush. He approaches again. He kisses the inside of my thighs and caresses my hips, causing me things I can't explain in words.

“The most beautiful thing of my day” he laughs, kissing my mons, his hot breath hit my clitoris and his stubble tickled me, making me gasp. I let my head fall back onto the sheets and hold on to them as his tongue runs up and down my slit. Exciting me. He grabs my thighs, preventing me from closing my legs while he tortures me with his tongue, sucking as he pleases, causing small moans to come out of my mouth as I arched towards him looking for something more than his tongue to satisfy my desire. He moves his face away, letting me breathe for a second, and caresses my clit with his thumb while he looks at me smiling. What a man.

He leaves a path of kisses and bites from my abdomen, not passing through my tits, giving attention to both, putting them in his mouth and squeezing them with his hands. I bite my lower lip seeing and feeling everything he was doing to me. At that point the fever was consuming me, I needed him to hold me.

I put my hands on his chest making him stop and I push him lightly, making him understand what I wanted to do. He stands on the floor and stays close to the edge of the bed, I get on my knees and elbows, being at the height of his erection marked in the black joggers he was wearing. I bite my lower lip. Was all that going to eat me? Christopher runs one of his hands through my hair, taking it out of my face and grabbing it between his fingers, holding my head while he lowered the joggers along with the boxers, freeing his member.

I look up, meeting Chris's eyes. Her pupils were dilated with pleasure and her mouth was half open, looking at me carefully, not missing anything I was doing to her. I take out my tongue and run it from the base to the glans. He tightens his grip on my hair when I place a kiss on the tip and grabs it with one hand and then puts it in my mouth, I sucked and filled the entire phallus with saliva, I could feel Chris tense every time I took it in and out of my mouth. First he slowed and then he increased the movements, taking it only halfway because that was what I could fit in my mouth.

From one moment to the next I feel him pulling my hair back, making his cock come out of my mouth and I just look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I can't take it anymore,” he admits. He has a hoarse voice. He makes me sit up and in a single movement he puts my back to him, he pushes me slightly and I lean over the bed. He has me on all fours for him. I smile satisfied. His huge hands cup my hips, bringing me closer to the edge. With his hand he brushes the hair off my back and with one hand he forces me to lower my torso, leaving only my ass up. I rest my hands on either side of my head and my cheek on the bed. In that position I was going to feel everything. It made me horny just thinking about it. He slides his left hand down my spine and finishes by slapping me hard on the ass, making me scream from the sudden blow. It had fascinated me.

“Let me know if it hurts” I hear him say as he adjusts the tip at my entrance, He feels a little, sliding up and down and without detours, he penetrates me slowly, slowly entering me.

I grabbed the sheets between my fingers and let out a moan, closing my eyes for a microsecond, feeling the entire length invade me. It was huge, I always had a hard time getting used to it at first. It starts to move. First slow, making me moan softly and then he starts to increase the pace. In and out, in and out. It perfectly accompanied the rhythm of my high-pitched moans. My ass bounces against his pelvis every time he bumps into me, causing the noise of our skin colliding. It was very pleasant. Having him there fucking me on all fours.

I let out a muffled moan when he increases his speed, squeezing my ass hard as he forces me to follow the tortuous back and forth of his thrusts. The pleasure ran through me from head to toe and I had to raise my torso, resting my hands on the bed, supporting myself. I turn my head back a little, as well as part of my torso to look at him while he fucks me.

He bites his lower lip, looking into my eyes and leans down to kiss my mouth, silencing the uncontrolled moans that come out of my mouth while still holding me tightly.

“Harder” I whispered almost inaudibly over his mouth and no more words were enough for him to listen to me. He roughly grabbed my hips and began to fuck me even harder, making me scream with pleasure as I turn my head forward and rest both hands on the bed, crumpling the sheets between my fingers. The only thing that could be heard were my moans and the thrusts he gave me. I throw my head back moaning when I finish and I bite my lower lip hard as I feel him continue thrusting into me until he finishes too. He leaves a kiss on my ass and then a bite before leaving me.

I was very tired, my legs were shaking. I fall onto the bed and roll over, turning onto my back as I try to steady my breathing.

“I'm up for five more rounds,” Chris says jokingly as he adjusts his boxers. Although if it were up to him, that's how it would be. I laughed, shaking my head and I got under the sheets, I wasn't going to get dressed.

“Come” I pout, opening my arms for him to come hug me. He looks at me smiling and first turns off the light and then returns to the bed to hug me, getting under the covers. He gives me a kiss and lies on my chest, with his face between my tits. We stayed like that until Chris fell asleep, he left a kiss on her forehead.

⠀⠀⠀𐙚 ˚. ࣪ ⊹ . . . notes : If you would like to be part of the taglist, leave ⠀⠀⠀a comment so I can add you. Thanks for all the support, I love ⠀⠀⠀reading your comments.

⠀⠀⠀𐙚 ˚. ࣪ ⊹ . . . taglist: @luverboychris @l34n @sturncakez @imwetforyourmom @hotreaderliin @tillies33ssss @sturnioloxlver @jnkvivi @stvrniolowh0re @adirtylittleheart @melonjollyranche @sssoniaswiftt @ecliphttlunar @jetaimevous @khxna @kiliaisinnnthehouseee @luvr4miya @xoxotaylynn @chr1sgirl4life @matthewscorner

#﹙𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬. 𝐒﹚🦌 ， #sturniolo triplets #੭ 🤍 ! 𝓈 #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfiction #matt sturniolo fluff #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #chris sturniolo fluff #chris smut #chris sturniolo smut #science #chris sturniolo soft #chris sturniolo x reader #sports #chris sturniolo x you #christopher owen sturniolo #christopher sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo imagine #matthew bernard sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo edit #nicolas sturniolo

[cntloup]

medieval au

periods :'(

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7

as simon had promised before, he never forced himself on you. and you know he's not that kind of man.

you’ve felt forced and used your whole life. but with him, it feels like you can finally breathe. he makes you feel safe, and free.

but now, he can sense the heavy tension between you. he knows you're not that close, at least not yet. but he thought that you'd feel more comfortable as time went by. now he feels disappointed that it's not the case at all as you drift away from him more and more each day.

yes, you've been distant the past few days. and it all started suddenly, making him think he did something wrong which in return, makes you feel horrible as you beat yourself up over it.

but you have to do this. he doesn't have to deal with your issues right now. as if a curse has been cast upon you since you were born, because you're a woman.

that's what you were taught anyway which you always considered unfair, even cruel.

you're now curled up in your bed as waves of painful cramps thrash through your body, making you curse everyone and everything, the gods and all that for making you go through this every month.

you put a hand over your mouth to muffle your sobs of pain and you scream into the pillow when it gets unbearable.

that's when he enters the room with a worried expression etched on his face, eyebrows furrowed in concern since you haven't gone out of bed all day.

he finds you curled into yourself, eyes squeezed shut and you're too lost in the excruciating pain that you don't notice his presence until he puts a gentle hand on your shoulder as the bed dips with his weight on it.

"what's wrong, love?" he asks softly, "nothing! please just go!" you burst out, voice coming out whiny due to the pain coursing through your abdomen as you clench it tighter.

you almost feel ashamed. it's a curse. a shameful curse that you must endure all your life. you're being punished. but for what sin? being a woman?!

the thoughts run around your mind until you decide to cast them away. it's all stupid nonsense you've been fed since you were a child.

you lift your head to face him and his gaze softens the moment he sets eyes on your glossy eyes and pouty lips.

"tell me, love. please. i need to know." he says, gently wiping away a stray tear on your cheek.

'he's my husband for god's sake! he should know what the hell i'm going through!' you think to yourself.

"it's just my monthly bleeding." you mutter quietly, lips wobbling slightly.

"oh..." he pauses, nearly taken aback. he's heard some vague stuff about it, but of course, he doesn't know fully well what's going on.

"is there something i can do for you?" he asks, feeling helpless and deeply worried.

"i... it really hurts." you whine and he makes his way to lay behind you and takes you into his embrace, strong burly arms wrapped around your body.

"tell me where it hurts, love." he whispers in your ear, making you shiver, the low timbre of his voice sending a wave of heat right to your core.

you take his hand and guide him to your lower belly, "here." you say, pressing on the back of his hand and he starts to tenderly massage the area as his lips find your neck, softly trailing kisses on your skin and moving to your shoulder.

the delightful feeling of his large rough hand caressing your sensitive body and his light kisses on your skin make you floaty and hazy.

"better, love?" he asks after some time, lifting his head to look at you and noticing your droopy eyes which makes him chuckle.

"hmm... much better." you hum lowly in contentment since your pain has subsided and it feels so good to be in his arms, so warm and safe.

"get some rest, love. i'll be right here when you wake up." he murmurs and places one last kiss on your neck as your eyelids slowly drape over and you drift into a slumber.

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost cod #cod ghost #ghost call of duty #ghost x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #cod fanfic #cod #cod mw2 #mw2 #call of duty #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare

[nonranghaes]

heads up: feelings of abandonment + reader crying. food mentions. fic can be interpreted as purely platonic, if desired!

when did your apartment start to feel so cold? you weren't sure. but you pull out a hoodie from your dryer and pull it on, just to try and chase away the chill that won't leave you. today's been a shit day, and all you want to do is curl up in bed and sleep until it's over. but it's far too early for that, so you opt to try to take care of yourself instead.

which really just turns into you pulling a blanket over you on the couch and watching whatever seems interesting enough to hold your attention for a while. it takes barely five minutes into the first movie before you start to sniffle again, and you stop fighting it. hot tears run down your cheeks, and you just pull the blanket tighter around you.

is it so much to ask that someone chase you for once? to have someone check on you and make sure you're actually okay? instead, you get radio silence when you pull away from people. it makes you feel sick to your stomach. there's a swirling storm inside you of the knowledge that people can't help you if you don't say something, and the wish that people would realize you not saying anything was a cry in its own right. they've known you this long, haven't they? they know you hate reaching out, that you despise having to say 'hi, i'm struggling' and instead it feels like they've just stopped bothering with you. why bother with someone who won't pull themself out of their struggles enough to say something?

it feels like you're drowning in these feelings. every hiccup and attempt to catch your breath just sends you spiraling further, the weight of the world crushing you more and more. is it so wrong to want someone to reach out and say "i know things aren't okay. can we talk?" or even a "i'm here for you, i'm sorry life is hard now, just say the word and i'll be there, okay?" in some shape or form. it doesn't even have to be so elaborate. it just needs to be something--

someone knocks on your door. you swear under your breath, wiping at your face and hoping that whoever is on the other side won't question it too much. your neighbor's cat probably got out again. you stop on your way to the door, looking in a mirror to see what damage has been done by this sobbing fit. and when you feel a little more composed, you open the door.

"hey." seungcheol has one hand tucked into the front pocket of his hoodie, the other holding a bag of takeout. "have you eaten yet?" he's dressed down, sweatpants and beanie and all. "i was in the neighborhood, and..."

he's lying. you know he is. you can see the label on the bag and this place is nowhere near where you live. but it's your favorite.

his gaze softens when he fully takes in the sight of you. "are you okay--"

he barely finishes the word before you dive forward, wrapping your arms around him as you bury your face in his hoodie. it makes you feel desperate in the worst way, but you're crying already and hiding your face from him makes you feel even a little better. but the feeling of seungcheol's arms wrapping around you feels even better, and he holds you protectively.

"i've got you," he says, and it feels like a promise.

maybe life isn't so bad after all.

#nonranghaes.thoughts #nonranghaes.svt #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagine #svt x reader #svt imagine #seventeen x you #svt x you #s coups x reader #s coups x you #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol x you #choi seungcheol x reader #choi seungcheol x you #dealing with ~feeeeeeelings~ and i wish someone could just do this for me #instead i just watch someone delete the private channel we had together without giving me a heads up #its whatever. im sure hes talking shit about me with the other ppl i havent had the energy to respond to #it just gives me more motivation to leave the fucking server eventually. no one wants me there anyway

[moonstruckme]

omg i'm SO obsessed with roommate james like you don't understanddddd 😭💗 i've been loving the shy reader fics so far i'm so excited to see more of them!! i don't know if this would make sense w/ shy reader so honestly just write it however you want but i would loooove to see something w/ roommate james where he has friends over but is always like talking about her and checking on her and everything and his friends are just teasing him about it hahaha i think it would be so fun!! anyway tysm and i hope you have a good day!!!

Hi sweetheart! I had this scene already written but I did implement a couple of the things you requested, hope you like it <3

cw: alcohol

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1.3k words

Somehow, you’ve wound up basically in James’ armpit. 

“Falsehoods!” James is laughing, nearly shouting, but you get the sense one needs to yell a bit to communicate in this friend group. Everyone except Lily and Remus, that is, for whom the others seem to quiet reflexively every time they start to speak. “Lies and falsehoods! If I recall, I wasn’t the one who left a pot in the sink for so long it grew mold.” 

“It wasn’t my pot!” Sirius defends himself, propping himself up on Remus' shoulder to make his point. He’s somehow managed to recline on the arm of your couch, his boyfriend’s arm wrapped cautiously around his waist to keep him from slipping off. “You cooked pasta in it and then forgot!” 

“Y/n,” says Lily, sitting across her girlfriend’s lap, “blink twice if you need help.” 

Mary laughs, hooking her hands under Lily’s knees to pull her closer and then intertwining their fingers. This is another thing you’ve noticed about James’ friends: they have a tendency to pile. Not even necessarily with their respective significant others and seemingly regardless of the seating available; last time you came home Sirius was half across James’ lap and Lily and Remus were sitting together on the rug as if the rest of the couch wasn’t empty. 

You laugh too, self-consciousness making you slip further down James’ side when the others look your way. So, it’s possible you have some idea of how you came to be basically in his armpit. 

James grins down at you. “Don’t listen to them,” he stage-whispers. “We both know what a good roommate I can be, under the right management.” 

Your answering smile comes far too easily. You like seeing James like this. You don’t think he’s ever not himself, but as soon as Sirius got here it’s like he dialed up to eleven. And he obviously loves his friends, entertaining them, making them laugh. You can see why, too. They’re an easy bunch to talk to. 

It probably helps that James has been practically tipping ciders down your throat (he hasn’t; he’s offered them to you, and you’ve gulped them down like the nervous freak you are), but you’re actually having a good time. You felt a bit indebted after he’d bought you a pizza last week and you’d still chickened out of coming downstairs, but now you’re glad you’re here. 

Your body feels loose and liquidy, and your shoulder is just starting to hurt from the position you’re in (which makes you wonder how long James’ ribs have been hurting from your shoulder digging into them) when he looks down at you again. He seems amused. 

“You comfy down there?” he asks. 

“Meh.” It’s an honest answer. 

“Here.” He brings his arm to your shoulder, propping you up and then scooching closer to you on the couch. Now you’re not in his armpit so much as under his arm, which drops from where it’s draped across the back of the couch to squeeze your shoulder reassuringly. “Better?” 

“Yeah.” Even the social lubricant of alcohol can’t keep the nervous edge from your voice. “Thanks.” 

“Course, love.” He gives your shoulder another little squeeze, beaming as he focuses back on the conversation. 

Your chest hurts, a gratifying ache. 

You manage to down another cider before his friends start saying their goodbyes, Sirius and Remus each whipping out a cigarette as soon as they’re outside while Lily and Mary fake cough and James heckles them lovingly from the doorway. 

When he shuts the door he’s still smiling, so obviously content you can’t help but feel a crush of affection for him. 

“Thanks for inviting me,” you say, grabbing a rag to clean up where Mary had accidentally spilled a bit of her drink. 

“Of course, I told you you’re always—what are you doing?” 

He sounds so affronted you actually think you’ve done something wrong. You look up from where you’re mopping up the spill, confused. 

“I’m cleaning everything from tonight,” he says, still looking outraged. 

You smile in relief when you realize it’s feigned. “Don’t be stupid. I was participating tonight, too.”

“You make it sound like you were an accomplice to some crime.” James sits down beside you and steals the rag from your hand, cleaning up the rest of the spill himself. “You’re off the hook, you were practically coerced.” 

“I was,” you agree, standing and gathering the dishes from the coffee table instead, “but it was fun in the end. I’m a little bit glad you coerced me.” 

You can hear James’ smile in his voice. “I’ll be sure to do it more often. First, I’m gonna coerce you into hanging out with us again on Friday, and then—“ He turns around, eyes narrowing as he spots the couple of glasses you’re carrying “—stop picking up my mess! Fuck, I can’t keep up with you, you’re like a machine.” 

A giggle fizzes out of you. James stands and holds his hands out for them, but you take a couple of steps back. “Why can’t I help? Anyway, you’re just as clean as I am.” 

“Because, it was my idea,” he laughs, pursuing you. “And I’m only clean because you’re clean.” He backs you up against the stairs, wrestling the glasses away from you with frustrating ease. “If I thought you didn’t care, this whole place would look like the inside of my room.” 

You give an odd bark of laughter, leaning on the banister to look at him. He looks ridiculously smug, both glasses held in one big hand. “Oh my god, you’re so nice. It’s pathological.” 

“Wow.” Some of the smugness falls away as James grins at you. “That’s a real one.” 

“What?” 

“Your smile,” he says. You still don’t get how he can do this eye contact thing, looking at you so openly while he seems so sincere. Your own gaze flees downward, warmth rushing to your cheeks. “I don’t get to see it a lot, out in the open like that. It’s really lovely.” 

He reaches for you, doing this weird chin-pinching thing that shouldn’t be half as endearing as it is. You roll your eyes, but your mouth seems stuck. You don’t know how to respond. 

James doesn’t seem to notice, taking the glasses with him into the kitchen. You grab a few more off the table and follow him. He’s turned the light above the sink on, but the rest of the kitchen is dim. His long sleeves are pushed up to his elbows as he makes soapy water in the sink. 

As you come in, he turns around to take the glasses from you, the light from above casting a glowy halo of his thick brown hair. He’s so beautiful it makes your stomach hurt. You’re suddenly worried you might be just inebriated enough to do something stupid. 

James narrows his eyes at you teasingly as he snatches the glasses away. “Enough of that,” he scolds. 

“Are you sure you don’t want any more help?” you ask. 

He rolls his eyes. You’re pretty sure he didn’t do that so much before he started hanging out with you. On him, it somehow manages to look fond. “Positive,” he says. “Go stop being useful.” 

You catch yourself biting the inside of your lip. “Okay. Then I think I’m gonna head up for the night.” 

“Yeah?” James looks over, and you wonder for a second if something in your voice has given you away. He looks confused, a bit worried, but then that melds into a soft sweetness. He gives you a smile. “Okay. Sweet dreams.” 

“You too,” you say, doing your best to smile in response before you round the corner to the stairs. 

Your brain feels fuzzy. You’re not sure if that’s from alcohol or fatigue or something else entirely, but it feels good to put on your pajamas, clean your face in front of the mirror. The covers on your bed are soft and heavy. You can hear the kitchen sink running downstairs as you slip beneath them, James finally starting to rinse the dishes before he turns in for the night, too. 

You think of his boisterous laugh, the weight of his arm around your shoulders, his thumb pressing into your chin. 

When you close your eyelids, you half expect to find a faint outline of his smile impressed upon the insides.

#roommate!james potter #shy!reader #roommate!james potter x shy!reader #james potter au #james potter #james potter x shy!reader #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter x self insert #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter imagine #james potter scenario #james potter drabble #james potter blurb #james potter one shot #james potter oneshot #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fandom #the marauders #hp marauders #marauders x reader #marauders au #tw alcohol

[noveauskull]

How Male WUWA Character's React When You Make Them Mad! (NSFW)

-----

characters: jiyan, geshu lin, mortefi, calcharo, yuanwu, aalto, scar x reader

warnings: 18+, smut, brat! reader, brat taming, mating press, spanking, use of toys, punishment, doggy style, overstimulation, passing out, age gap, anal, wall fucking, office sex, cock warming, teasing, orgasm denial, pet names (princess), sir kink (?), choking (asphyxiation)

SCAR:

Scar often finds your little acts cute. He likes it when you hit him or cuss at him, it always makes him feel warm and funny inside when you behave rudely to him, probably cause most of the time the others are scared of him. But even Scar has limits.

He finds you hard to talk with sometimes, whenever he wanted a genuine conversation with you, you'd just tell him to go away, and that does upset him, but he tries to be patient with you and try again next time.

Though he realizes that next time will never come, and he's starting to find your bold antics unamusing. His final straw was when he asked you if you had missed him while he was gone out, and your response was-

"What are you talking about? Stop acting stupid and fetch me the soda bottle"

Yeah, you regret it.

Scar had your knees all the way up to your chest while he fucks your cunt loose with his cock, your nipples and clit being pinched with clips that were connected together through chains, and your ass was stuffed with an anal plug.

He had all your holes filled and sweet spots touched, leaving your mouth gaping open to let your whines and moans free, gasping for air each time you feel the tip of Scar's cock breaking into you to meet with your cervix, you could feel yourself get dizzy from all the sensations.

The clips shaking with every thrust Scar gave you, having it stimulate you by theirselves without him needing to touch them.

Scar would have you talk to him while he rammed himself inside of you, cause if you wouldn't talk with him when he isn't fucking you, then you might as well say a few words when he is fucking you.

"Like I was asking early, did you miss me?" He would ask through pants in every thrust, which you would struggle to answer with.

"Hgh- nmph-! Ugh!" You'd try answering, but your mind can't even focus to tell your mouth to move properly.

"Answer me, baby. Don't make me wait" He'd give you a sharp smack on your ass, making you snap out of the daze he was putting you in.

"H-Hnagh y-yes!! Yes!" You'd cry before hearing him chuckle, giving you a long, wet kiss to reward you.

"You're so cute when you're crying for my cock, I guess this will happen more often if you keep your bratty behavior up~"

-----

JIYAN:

Cussing at him, hitting him, ignoring him, somehow he was fine with it all, he'd even go back to his general duties sometimes, knowing that when the two of you return home he'd have to give you a small talk on why you should be nicer to him, to which you'd just ignore him and flop yourself onto the bed that you two shared.

The one thing that made him snap, was when you poured water onto his head. In public. All because you were upset at him for taking too long with his subordinates at the Midnight Rangers.

You'd wish you hadn't did that to him though, it seems like he really made it clear that there is a limit to how much shit you could throw at a person, especially at him.

The side of your face would be pressed into the covers, ass sticking up for Jiyan's cock to thrust into your leaking pussy, you were probably at your 4th orgasm right now.

The noises your mouth made were lewd, no sane person should be hearing those slutty moans you're letting out as Jiyan destroys your cunt. Your hands gripping onto the sheets to give you some sort of relief from all the pounding he was giving you.

You felt his arms go under your waist to lift you up, making your back press onto his chest, his right hand moving to where your clit is and flicking it, the sudden action made you scream with tears rolling down your cheek.

"S-Sto-" You tried speaking, but it was no use. Jiyan had you right where he wanted you. He's made it clear that he was not going to forgive you unless you let out exactly 10 full orgasms.

You realized that this entire time, Jiyan was only showing you his lenient side, the side of a understanding boyfriend. But right now? He's showing you the side of a General. Harsh, strict and merciless.

Right on your 4th orgasm, you squirted all over his cock and fingers, the entire time while he was pounding you he never once took a break, both for himself or for you, definitely not for you.

He was pounding into you so much that you felt like the tip of his cock was going to pop out of your mouth with each thrust. He throws your body back onto the bed while still rawdogging you. And all you can do was take it and hope you had finished your 10th orgasm the moment you blinked.

By the time you were on your 8th orgasm, you started feeling light headed, and you couldn't feel your pussy, or your entire lower body anymore, even your voice began to sound weak from all the moaning you were doing.

So you gave one final orgasm before passing out. You definitely learned your lesson, to never anger Jiyan and take his patience for granted.

The next day, Jiyan acts like nothing happened. But you're limping with every step as you hold your back like an old lady, making Jiyan chuckle.

"I hope you learned something from this, though I don't mind doing it all over again if you feel unsatisfied"

-----

CALCHARO:

Since Calcharo was a few years older than you, it's natural he thinks of you as an annoying kid whose been raised spoiled your whole life. Which is why he doesn't think much of your poor behavior and tolerates it most of the time.

However, he does get bothered by the way you casually speak to him, such as when you called him an asshole for telling you to not talk bad about others.

His last piece of patience of you would shred to pieces when you called his underdog namplate ugly, disrespecting the tiny drawing of a dog.

You didn't know it was going to get him this upset though, to the point he's pressing your body onto the wall and fucking your ass deeply with every thrust, while your pussy was filled with a thick vibrating dildo.

He ordered you to not let the dildo fall off out, if you did, he'd add onto your punishment by two times, and he'll keep adding onto it until you either pass out or you finally get the hang of it while he cums inside of your ass.

Calcharo would be cumming inside your ass so much you could feel your stomach bloating, it's crazy how pent up he is, and you just happened to be the perfect person to help him relieve his stress.

When you felt yourself cumming, you'd try to hold it in, but having a vibrating dildo inside of you while Calcharo's dick was giving your cervix punches to the gut wasn't helping, all while you were standing too.

The moment you started twitching and shaking while letting out a long and loud moan, you'd try to clench your legs together in hopes that the dildo wouldn't fall off, making you having to overstimulate yourself.

"Apologize" Calcharo says into your ear, his deep voice sounding dangerously calm which alarmed you.

"Apologize now and I'll stop" He offers, his left hand brushing over the tiny bulge he made on your stomach, you could feel his cum in your ass sloshing with every thrust.

"S-Sor- Ungh! S-Sorry! 'M so s-sorry!" You forced out of your mouth in cries, you could feel the dildo vibrating itself out of your pussy, you silently begged that he would say something to excuse the mistake you were about to make by letting the vibrator fall.

But before he could say anything, the dildo drops on the floor, and his palm presses onto your bulge, fingers circling your clit, make your legs shake and your eyes roll back.

"I guess we have to keep going until you've learned your lesson, brat"

-----

MORTEFI:

It's not likely for Mortefi to get angry easily, but for some reason, you're just really good at it.

Like how you would suddenly barge into his room and mess with his paperwork, making his job harder than it is, and you only do this when you feel like he's been focusing on his work more than you, and that makes you very unhappy.

But he won't let you keep up with this behavior, so the next time you barge into his room expecting no one but his stack of papers on his desk, he's already sitting down on his desk, eyes immediately locking in with yours because of how he had already expected your arrival.

Next thing you know you're sitting on top of his lap with his cock buried deep inside you, legs sticking out on the sides of the chair, through the space where the armrests are, and a small vibrator right on your clit, however, it isn't on.

Well, not unless Mortefi wants it to be. Whenever you do so much as move or your pussy twitches around his cock he'd use a small remove control to turn the vibrator on, stimulating you to the point you feel close to orgasming, but stopping whenever he feels your pussy twitch and tighten around him too much, indicating you are close.

And he keeps this up while he does his paperwork, you could beg him to just fuck you but he won't even pretend like he's listening to you, and when you try to move your hips he just sends a sharp smack onto your ass, warning you to keep still.

Mortefi will make you go crazy for hours and hours, just by not moving a muscle, you're surprised he's even able to keep his dick hard all this time, maybe it's gone limp a few times but everytime you twitched around him it'd harden right back up.

The torture would be too much to the point you no longer had an attitude, instead you're hugging him and rolling your hips to create some friction, mumbling words like "I'm sorry, please let me cum" into his ear.

But he still won't move, even when you play nice.

"Sweet talking me won't make my mood any better, you know? You'll just have to wait until I'm done"

-----

AALTO:

He's often very playful with you, and doesn't particularly care when you get pissy with him, he knows he can make it up to you by gifting you expensive accessories or clothes, but sometimes, he would have his limits too.

And being able to make even the most goofiest guy angry is something else. Most likely whenever you call him names like idiot or stupid, you'd be surprised but Aalto isn't a fan of name calling. He finds it unfair that while your names are "Princess", "Sweetheart" or "Baby", his is just mean names that you'd call any nuisance of a person.

He even asked you to give him a cute nickname, but it's like you never heard him once. And at one point in those countless of names you gave him, he's already hit his breaking point.

Aalto would drag you back home, throwing your body that was smaller than his onto the couch and taking off your clothes, when he pulls down your skirt, he immediately connects his lips to your clothed cunt, licking over it to tease you.

You won't know whats happening, as long as you were getting pleasure nothing mattered, but that's what Aalto wants you to think he's doing, instead, he hasn't made any effort to take off the panty you had on the entire time, making it completely soaked with your juices and his saliva.

Even when you bucked your hips forward with your hands on his head to create more friction he wouldn't give you the satisfaction, lessening the pressure of his tongue on your clit or even stopping at times too.

"No can do, princess. I want to hear you call me a cute name, then I'll let you cum" He'd tease, he would be angry, but he's forgotten all about it after seeing your desperate face.

"W-What is it? What do you w-want?!" You panted, face burning from the embarassment you were having, and the inability to cum right away from his kitten licks.

"Hmm, how about sir-"

"P-Please, Sir!! Hurry up, please!!" You cut him off in whines, making him chuckle at your desperation.

"So cute"

He would use his finger to move your panty to the side, finally revealing your soaking wet pussy with juices leaking out of it, he grips your thighs to hold them open before diving in to force orgasms out of you.

You'd already be begging him to stop after 2 orgasms, but he wouldn't, even if you had called him "Sir" countless of times already. It doesn't seem like Aalto was going to back down anytime soon.

"Sorry, princess. But the more you call me that the more it riles me up, give me one more and I'll stop, 'Mkay?"

-----

GESHU LIN:

He doesn't tolerate any kind of behavior from you, and you know this. Yet you seem to always forget that. It's not your fault though, he hasn't been teaching you a lesson whenever you act up these days, of course you're going to forget the consequences.

You really wished you remembered though, cause earlier, you noticed Geshu Lin just walking by the nearby stores in Jinzhou, and you just happened to be walking around Jinzhou with General Jiyan, so you did something unspeakable.

You brought your hands to grip onto Jiyan's biceps, pulling him back to warn him about the cat that was passing by. A mere coincidence, not only did you had a reason to touch General Jiyan but he wouldn't suspect you of doing anything to him, it was just a friend helping another friend.

But Geshu Lin was not taking a single ounce of shit for it.

Before you know it, you're on to bed the two of you lay on, body pressed onto the sheets while your back faces him as he fucks your pussy loose on top of you, making you cry out begging he'd go slower.

Of course he wouldn't though. Instead he goes even faster than before, he would press his body onto yours before moving his arm to your neck, clamping it with the middle of his bicep and forearm while another hand on the top of your head, putting you in a chokehold.

His bicep would be squeezing your neck while he pounded inside you mercilessly, the weight of his body on your own making it even harder for you, it didn't particularly hurt since it was a gentle squeeze, hard enough to give you trouble breathing but not hard enough to leave a mark, yet you could could feel you're losing yourself when your eyes rolled back the moment his arms made contact with your neck.

You'd let out a small whimper, tears rolling down to your face then to his muscular biceps, you've probably already came twice by now while Geshu Lin hasn't even came once.

"Since you love biceps so much you don't mind dying from it, right slut?" He teased you, grinning at the way you struggled to form words.

He would finally cum inside you after you squirted out your 5th orgasm, you could feel yourself slowly passing out before he smacks your ass to wake you up. He wasn't letting you off that easy.

"Get up, brat. I'm not done with you yet, I'm gonna fuck the attitude out of you this time"

-----

YUANWU:

Of course Yuanwu was patient with you, whenever you acted up he'd just pat your head and give you a few kisses, mumbling words like "You're a good girl right? Then behave well" and most of the time you'd listen to him, however of course there are times when you don't.

You were incredibly upset that Yuanwu didn't get you a new dress, he did tell you that he would get it soon and that he was way too busy to get one with you at the moment, but you couldn't care less. His job and his attention to you are two different things.

That's when you decided to take it out on him while you two were getting intimate. Yuanwu would come back home wanting to have a taste of you every now and then and you'd comply just fine, but right now you wanted to make it known that you were not happy.

"Ugh could you go any slower?" You grumbled as he was fucking his cock into your pussy, he brought his head up to look at you with wide eyes, surprised by your sudden remark.

"Pardon?" The strands of his blue hair would cover his forehead, making him appear younger.

"You heard me, hurry up I want to sleep" You repeated, you didn't know what you were expecting, but you sure as hell wasn't expecting him to just smile at you.

"Okay"

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, yelping at his sudden grip on your hips as he snaps his own forward. You didn't realize it before, but apparently he hadn't been putting his full size inside you a lot, until now.

You'd let out a small scream, feeling his cock plunge into your hole so deep and your cervix getting a hit from his tip, your hole immediately clamping down on his cock, a few of your juices leaking out in the process.

You wouldn't even have the time to let out a small breath before he's snapping his hips back onto your pussy, every thrust making you let out small cries and your eyes tearing up.

"W-Wai- Ugh!" You'd try to hold onto his arms to regain some sort of control, but that didn't help you one bit, instead he'd still have you your hole so used your face would be drenched in tears.

You wouldn't realize it, but he was holding back his anger from you this entire time. What he was doing now was just a small part of it, and the things he was about to do to you later were going to be even worse.

And yet despite him fixing your bratty behavior, he still does it all while smiling, and caressing you, treating you like glass one moment before treating you like a punching bag, thought of course, the only punching he'd be doing to you is when the tip of his cock is punching your cervix.

"You told me to go faster, so that's what I'm doing. What's that? You want me to go slow now? There's no need for that, I'm sure you can handle it, my lady"

-----

A/N: Sorry to the person who requested this! (the one with wuwa men reacts to you telling them to go faster) I thought it would be better to add it into this making wuwa men angry post, so yeah, hitting two birds w one stone ���✨️✨️

#wuthering waves #wuthering waves smut #wuwa #wuwa smut #jiyan #jiyan smut #calcharo #calcharo smut #scar #scar smut #mortefi #mortefi smut #geshu lin #geshu lin smut #yuanwu #yuanwu smut #aalto #aalto smut #noveauskull #wuthering waves x reader #wuthering waves x you

[mangowafflesss]

PART 3 TO THE EX WIFE

This is the final part, I hate this but whatever I don't care :) Love to everyone who read this <3

Part 1 , Part 2

It had been a couple of days since you had kicked out John and his bitch of an ex. It was peaceful but very quiet. There was more room for your mind to start spiralling into thoughts, so you either had music playing through your speakers or the tv on throughout the day, just to make it seem like someone was here with you in the house.  

You had the locks changed and also blocked all contact with him, yes it was hard but you believed it to be the best thing to do. No more temptation to let him back into your heart. He hurt you and now you had to heal from the wounds. 

However, John wasn’t giving up on you that easily. He would show up to your house daily, knocking, wanting for you to listen to him. But why should you? He wouldn't listen to you, no matter how many times you expressed how much you wanted him to get rid of his ex.  

Today was Saturday. You were fresh out of the shower and heard repeated knocking on your front door. Choosing to ignore it, you did your usual routine before the knocking reached a point where your eye was borderline twitching. 

With a huff, you turned on your heel and charged through the house. When you got closer to the door, the louder the thumping got. “Fuck off John!” you yelled but the sound was relentless. 

Unlocking the door, you twisted the handle and yanked it open “Will you stop before you break down my damn door” you say but when the person on the other side isn’t John, your angry temper fizzles a little but not much. 

“John’s not here” you go to shut the door but his arm stops you and you roll your eyes before opening it again. 

“Where is he?” 

“Don’t know. Don’t care” you say with a shrug and watch as he looks past you and into your house. “I’m being serious Simon. His car isn’t even here” you point to the empty spot next to your car on the drive and feel your lip quiver for a second. 

No. You were done crying for him. 

“Did something happen?” he asks and you cross your arms over your chest “As if you don’t already know. You’re probably one of the first people he would’ve told. Is that why you’re here? He gave up begging so he sent one of his men to do it for him” you scoff while he stands there looking confused. You don’t think you ever seen such emotion on him. 

“I haven’t heard from him in a week. I have no idea what’s going on” he says truthfully and you’re shocked. 

“Really?” He nods his head and you believe him. “Why don’t you tell me about it? Whatever it is sounds like he’s in the wrong” you contemplate it for a while before stepping to the side and letting him inside of your home. 

A couple of weeks later, Simon had been coming over a lot more. He expressed his hatred for what John did to you. You were confused at first, he was the closest thing Simon had to a family. They were friends, comrades. It was strange at first, but you were glad to have someone on your side, telling you how much John had fucked up. 

One night, you were laying on the sofa and stretched out your legs. They landed in Simon's lap and you had apologised before pulling them back to your recent position, but Simon had grabbed your legs and put them back into his lap mumbling something like “You’ll get cramp” but the way his fingers brushed against the skin of your calves made a fire inside you ignite. Maybe it was from the lack of touch from someone but it was all you could think about the entire night until he left to go back home. 

When he returned to your house a couple days after, you kissed him. It was a rushed decision but the way he kissed you back made you realise that he wanted this as much as you. 

From there on out, your relationship got more physical. You would grab him as soon as he walked through the door. Him scooping you up into his arms, dropping the things in his hands to the ground in the process.    

A month and a half later, you were in bed. Legs spread with a head settled in between them. Your hands gripped onto his dirty blonde strands as he ran his tongue up your sopping cunt. “Fuck Si-”  you moaned as he sucked on your clit making you buck your hips and push his head further down onto you. You felt as if you were in heaven, floating on a cloud as he devoured you.    

Well you were in heaven until you heard knocking at the door. That fucking door will be the death of you. 

“Ignore it” Simon grunts before pushing two thick digits into you, making you hum and forget about anything for the moment. 

The doorbell started to ring and you huffed angrily. “It's him” you groaned while covering your face with your hands but Simon continued to swirl his tongue, happily lapping you up. 

You weren't going to be able to come like this. “Simon stop” you say regretfully and he pulls his fingers from you making you whine at the loss of them. 

You had to deal with this or else you’ll never do it. Sighing, you get up off the bed and put on your robe. Before leaving the haven of your room, you press a kiss to Simon's lips “We’ll continue this when I get back” you feel him smile against your lips before slapping your ass and falling onto his back on the mattress. 

You pick up the documents on the kitchen counter and walk to the front door where John stands. He looked rough but you didn’t care as you shoved the envelope at him. 

“Make sure you sign them John”   

He held them in his hand and looked up at you with sorrowful eyes. “Sweetheart, is there anything I can do to save this. Please”  

“No John, I never will listen to anything you have to say ever again” your voice had no emotion in it, you were done. Finally done. 

You heard footsteps behind you and felt a kiss was placed on the top of your head. John looked shocked at the sight of Simon but nodded to himself “I’ll sign them” he sounded broken and you felt a sense of relief. 

Before he left, he looked to Simon and spoke once more “Look after her will you?” you felt Simon pull you softly backwards and stood in the doorway blocking you from view. “I’ll do a lot more than you ever have” is all he says before slamming the door and locking it. 

He turns around with a smile decorating his face and mischievous glint in his eye. “Now that's dealt with.  Where were we?” you grin before sprinting back into the bedroom to continue what was so rudely interrupted. 

Tags: @knightofsexyness, @sleepyoriana @odettecigno @thigh-o-saur @blackhawkfanatic @hotvinimon @ghostlypatrolstranger, @nadinesabre, @v1x3n, @dakotapaigelove, @butchers-girl, @mayadarlings <3 <3

#captain john price x reader #price x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty

[rafeandonlyrafe]

first moments

words: 1.5k

warnings: mom!reader, dad!rafe, established relationship, brief hospital setting, anxiety (from rafe)

“rafe, wanna do chest to chest?” you hum, eyes mostly closed, the exhaustion from labor still affecting you.

“i…” he stares at you, and then at your son, resting against your chest, maternity dress pulled open so he's against your skin, his face resembling the exact same one rafe makes when he's sleeping. “its okay, you keep holding him.”

“okay.” you say, looking down at your son. it didn't take you long to decide on a name. leon andres cameron. leon after rafes grandfather and andres after your own. a good strong family name. 

“he's so perfect.” rafe whispers, his voice cracking slightly.

“come closer.” you beckon, rafe moving his chair closer, but still keeping his distance, making you frown. “what's wrong?”

rafes mouth opens, but no words come out. you pause, hand petting over leons back.

“wait…” your mind starts to piece together, still foggy from the delivery and drugs. “you haven't held him yet.”

“i-” rafe stumbles over his words, knowing he's been caught. “i can't. he's too tiny. too perfect. i-i don't want to ruin him.”

“ruin him?” you frown. “rafe, you're his father. get over here.”

you struggle to scooch over on the hospital bed, but manage to make room for rafe to sit down next to you. he even sits carefully, gnawing at his lip as you turn leon over, keeping him asleep as you turn him face up, supporting his neck the whole time.

“just cradle your arms. it's okay, you'll get used to it.” you watch as rafe moves his arms before placing leon in them, having to cover your mouth when the sudden urge to cry hits you, leon looking even smaller being held by your husband.

“i love him.” rafe whispers, voice cracking, a few tears sliding down his cheeks. “i love him so much.”

“look how relaxed he is in your arms.” you coo. “i knew you'd be a good dad.”

--

“god, im so nervous.” rafe looks in the backseat where you’re sitting, leon buckled tight into the carseat.

“its okay.” you hum, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “just drive slow.” “yeah, of course.” rafe nods. he barely puts the car above 15 miles per hour the entire ride home. leon thankfully stays asleep, you’re not sure if you could have handled just leaving the hospital and having him crying on the way home.

“okay, here.” rafe takes a deep breath as he pulls the car into the garage.

“you got his carseat?” you ask. your body is still recovering from birth, and you’re not sure if you can lift anything up without tearing.

“yeah.” rafe undoes the carseat carefully as you get out and unlock the house, happy to be home after two days spent in the hospital.

“mmm.” you breathe in the fresh air. “my eyes are so happy after all that fluorescent light.”

“um- watch out baby.” rafe hates having to have you move out of the way so quickly, but he can hear leon beginning to fuss and needs to get him inside.

you giggle and step away, watching as rafe quickly rushes to unbuckle him. he looks to you to get him out of the carrier, but you allow rafe to scoop him up, shushing him and gently rocking him back and forth.

--

“i got it.” rafe offers.

“no, he's hungry.” you groan, already feeling your breasts swelling with milk just from hearing his cry. “i can tell.”

“im sorry, baby.” rafe sighs, staying in bed as he tries to get back to sleep. no point having both of you completely exhausted.

you manage to settle leon, feeding him in the rocking chair rafe got you before you gave birth. he almost wakes when you transfer him back to the crib, but you get him down and back to rafe, crawling into bed next to him.

“i wish i could do more.” rafe sighs. so much of you is required from leon, not just the pregnancy but now needing to feed him. rafe tries to take care of anything else you could need, but he struggles with not knowing how to do things as basic as changing diapers.

“you're learning fast, rafe. it's okay.” you move closer so rafe can hold you, snuggling into your back, his hand gently rubbing over your hip.

“i don't deserve you.” you know it's just the exhaustion talking. you grip his hand in yours, squeezing three times, saying the words without needing to speak.

“we should sleep while he's asleep.” you say, rafe nodding and pressing kisses to your shoulders and upper back until you're pulled back to sleep.

--

“shh, leon, it's okay.” rafe looks around for you, surely you must have heard leons cries. you said you'd be just a minute, running to the beauty aisle to grab your conditioner before returning to rafe shopping for groceries.

rafe pushes the brim of the carrier back, his heart breaking as his sons little face scrunches with big tears rolling down his cheeks.

rafe isn't sure what to do, so he just lets his instincts guide him as he quickly undoes the seatbelt and lifts leon into his chest, being careful to hold his head just as you instructed.

the second leon is against rafes, his cries lessen, and then all together subside as rafe bounces gently.

“is he okay?” rafe looks up to see you hustling down the aisle towards him.

“yeah, he was upset but i got him.” rafe pats leons back gently, turning his head to press a kiss against his cheek.

“okay.” you let out a sigh of relief, tossing your conditioner into the grocery cart. “want me to take him?”

“no, im good.” rafe shifts leon a little as you start to walk, pushing the carrier and loading the bottom up with more groceries, especially all the things you couldn't have while pregnant but are now safe despite still breastfeeding.

rafe doesn't miss the way you keep looking over at him with light in your eyes, excitement evident at seeing how comfortable rafe is becoming with leon held snuggly in his arms.

--

“are you sure?” you ask, frowning as your eyes flicker between leon laying on the couch cushion and rafe sitting next to him, focus on your baby as he makes silly faces at him.

“baby, i know i struggled at first, but this is one weekend. you have plenty of milk pumped. ill be fine.” rafe scoops leon into his arms as he stands, walking towards you.

“besides, if i need help i can always call your mom. even wheezie, you know she'll be happy to see leon.” rafe shifts the baby to one arm while his free hand comes to cup your cheek. “go. please, i will miss you and leon will too, but you deserve a break.”

“okay.” you nod, getting on your tip toes to press a kiss to rafes lips before also kissing leon, who lets out a familiar cooing sound.

“im gonna text my girls.” you can't hide the excitement in your voice, pulling out your phone to confirm you'll be able to go to the girls spa weekend away. 

“i want nightly face times with you though baby.” you poke leons little nose, whose cheeks stretch into a smile.

--

“oh my god, rafe, is everything okay?” you squeal, squinting at the screen as if it'll somehow make leon appear.

“yes! fine, i promise.” rafe points the camera down so you can see leon happily on his lap, already looking tired as bedtime is quickly approaching.

“why didn't you pick up the first time?” you ask, a lot calmer now that you have eyes on your baby.

“leon and i were just getting home. i took him to the park. he couldn't really do anything but be in the carrier but he liked watching the other kids play.” rafe looks down at leon, giving him a little tickle under the chin. “isn't that right buddy?”

“did you-”

“yes, i put sunscreen on him. and he wore a hat. and-” rafe stresses before you can interrupt. “i reapplied sunscreen after an hour.”

“you're the best.” you smile. “you know i never doubted you rafe, it's just-” you take a deep sigh. “i worry so much about him. and making sure he's happy.”

“and he is.” rafe assured you. “look at his little face.”

you feel tears well up in your eyes as you look at your husband and your son, snuggled together on the couch. you quickly take a screenshot while they both have smiles on their faces.

“you're such a good mama. leons lucky to have you, and so am i.”

the tears are now falling down your cheeks as you smile. “i love you.”

“i love you too. and we miss you, but go enjoy your night with the girls!”

“okay.” you nod. “you're right. ill be home tomorrow around noon.”

“got it.” rafe holds the camera closer to leon. “say bye bye to mommy, leon.”

the call ends with his smiling face looking back at yours.

sfw taglist: @bejeweledreverie @winterrrnight @ladyinbl00d @ethanthequeefqueen

#ur not supposed to put sunscreen on a baby until theyre 6 months but lets just roll with it for the fic #not that anyone is taking parenting advice from a rafe cameron fanfic lmao #rafe fic #rafe fanfic #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe fluff #rafe cameron fluff #dad!rafe #dad!rafe cameron #rafe imagine #rafe blurb #rafe drabble #rafe one shot #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron one shot #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe x oc #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x oc

[wineauntie]

YOU’RE RAISING A DEMON — family is family au

loosely based on this anon ask family is family masterlist

You, Quinn and Evie were staying in New Jersey with Luke for a few days as he prepared to pack up and move to Michigan for the remainder of the summer.

Evie was bouncing off the walls in excitement at the thought of seeing Luke. The boy was her favourite person in the world besides you and Quinn. He’d never shy away from her tea parties or games, letting her climb his legs like a climbing wall. Luke was more than willing to be at his niece’s beck and call, letting her have full control over what she wanted to do.

Luke and Evie became inseparable during the summer, with the little girl clutching onto her uncle with stars in her eyes.

When he’d picked you three up from the airport, Evie had sprinted with Ted (her teddy bear gifted to her by Luke and Jack) in hand towards her ‘Giant’.

“Oof!” Luke choked out as he caught Evie’s small body that hurtled into his open arms. He picked her up with ease as she instantly began to chatter. “You’re getting so big, Pea!”

“I know!” She squealed, “I’m almost six!”

Luke’s eyes widened in feign shock as he shook his head.

“No you can’t be!” He tutted, jostling her carefully. “You’re still a baby!”

“No, Lukey!” Evie giggled, “I’m grown up, mom said so.”

“What did I say?” You hummed, approaching the pair with your hand in Quinn’s as he rolled the shared suitcase.

“Just that, Pea is all grown up now,” Luke explained, smiling gently as he held Evie.

“She’s getting taller,” Quinn added proudly, his head tilted as he spoke.

“‘m going to be taller than you!” Evie giggled, ruffling Luke’s curls.

“Impossible!”

—

The day after the three of you had arrived in New Jersey, Luke urged you and Quinn to go out for the evening whilst he would look after Evie.

Quinn had audibly laughed in his face.

You see, Evie was in that lovely stage of life where sleep was the enemy. She wanted to stay up late and play or watch something on the television. She wanted to dress up or colour— she wanted to do everything but sleep.

Combine that with sugary foods and budding excitement and sleep was a big no-go.

Luke had insisted and Quinn obliged. He couldn’t wait for his younger brother to finally get a taste of his own medicine.

“Bye Mom, bye Dad!” Evie waved

enthusiastically from Luke's arms as you and Quinn stepped out of the house.

"Be good, Bug!" Quinn called back, smiling at the sight of her excitement.

“And don't give Uncle Luke too much trouble." You added, your eyes twinkling as you adjusted the necklace around your neck.

"How hard can it be, huh? We’ll be just fine,” Luke nudged Evie and shot the both of you a confident grin. “Have fun!"

As the door closed behind you, Luke set Evie down and crouched to her level.

"Alright, Pea, what’s first on the agenda?" He asked, watching her eyes light up as she clutched Ted closer.

"Let’s have a tea party, Lukey!" She exclaimed, grabbing his hand and dragging him to the kitchen table.

Luke found himself seated at the table, balancing a mug that he’d dug out from the cupboards on one knee while Evie served invisible tea from a measuring jug with utmost seriousness.

Throughout the evening, they’d gone from tea parties to building castles out of cushions, then to an energetic dance party where Luke’s attempts at twirling and pirouetting had Evie on the floor in fits of lighthearted giggles.

After a quick dinner that involved more spaghetti on their faces than in their mouths, tiredness shrouded Luke and he decided that it was probably a responsible time to start winding down.

"How about we watch Frozen?" He asked, reaching for the remote.

Evie’s eyes sparkled as she nodded vigorously, clutching Ted even tighter. She clambered onto the couch beside him, snuggling up against Luke as the opening credits rolled. Luke felt a wave of warmth wash over him as his arm draped over her shoulders to hug her.

As the movie continued, Luke noticed Evie’s eyelids growing heavy, her head beginning to droop against his shoulder. He kept still, watching the screen with one eye and his niece with the other. By the time Elsa was building her ice castle, Evie was fast asleep, her breath even and soft.

Luke gently shifted her to a more comfortable position, careful not to wake her. He felt a sense of accomplishment wash over him. He had managed to entertain her, and more importantly, he had managed to get her to sleep.

As the movie ended, Luke carefully moved Evie, whose eyes fluttered open momentarily.

"Hey, Pea, it's time for bed," he whispered softly, brushing her mussed hair out of her face.

Evie rubbed her eyes, shaking her head vehemently. "No, Lukey, I’m not sleepy. I wanna play more!" she declared as her lower lip jutted out into a stubborn pout.

"It's really late,” Luke chuckled, understanding the challenge ahead. “How about we read a bedtime story?"

"No! I wanna stay up. Mommy lets me stay up sometimes." Evie crossed her arms and her face scrunching up causing Luke to raise an eyebrow.

"Oh, really? Well, what if we read the book from your bag?"

Evie’s resolve wavered for a moment before she nodded reluctantly.

“Okay, but just one story!" She insisted, “and then we can play again!”

Luke hummed and stood up, lifting Evie into his arms, carrying her to Jack’s bedroom that he’d made up just for her. He set her down gently, and she ran to her backpack that had been strewn across the floor. She dug through it before finally, she pulled out a well-worn copy of a book and handed it to Luke.

"This one!" Evie announced, climbing into bed and patting the space next to her.

Luke grinned and settled in beside her, opening the book. He read in an animated voice, as he recalled his parents always doing whilst Evie listened intently.

Halfway through, however, he noticed her eyes starting to droop again.

As he finished the story, he closed the book softly and looked down at Evie, who was fighting to keep her eyes open.

"Alright, Pea, time to close your eyes and go to sleep." He mumbled, his hand ruffling her hair.

Evie shook her head weakly. "No, Lukey, I’m not sleepy. Can we play one more game? Please?" She begged, her puppy-dog eyes in full effect. Luke sighed inwardly, realising that she wasn’t going to give in easily.

"How about a game where we see who can close their eyes and stay quiet the longest?” He schemed, “I bet you can't beat me.”

"I can beat you, Uncle Luke,” Evie frowned, whilst she considered the challenge. “I’m really good at being quiet."

"Oh, I know you are!" Luke agreed, lying down next to her. "Close your eyes, and let's see who wins."

Evie closed her eyes tightly, her small body tensing with determination. Luke watched her for a few moments, smiling at her effort and the fact he’d tricked her into trying to sleep. Slowly but surely, her breathing evened out, and Evie finally drifted off to sleep.

Luke quietly slipped out of the bed, pulling the blanket up to cover her and tucking Ted in beside her. He tiptoed out of the room, closing the door gently behind him. He returned to the living room, collapsing onto the couch with a sigh and as he glanced at the clock, realizing it was well past eleven.

"How do they do this every night?" he muttered to himself, running a hand over his face as the exhaustion of his evening set in.

As if on cue, the front door opened, and you and Quinn walked in, hand in hand, laughing quietly about something. You spotted Luke on the couch and smiled warmly, placing your bag down on the table by the door.

"How’d it go?" Quinn whispered, a mix of amusement and curiosity in his voice. Luke looked towards his older brother, a tired but content smile on his face.

"She’s a handful, but we had fun,” he smiled through a yawn, “And I even got her to sleep, eventually."

"Thank you, Luke,” You smiled, “It was nice to get out just the two of us."

"Welcome to parenthood, even if just for an evening,” Quinn grinned, clapping his younger brother on the back. “How does it feel?" Luke laughed at Quinn’s teasing, his head rolling to the side to face him.

“Exhausting, but worth it,” he admitted, “You’re raising a little demon, but I’ve missed seeing her around.”

The truth was that during the majority of the year, Evie only really saw her uncles four or five times in person. The summer months being the only exception.

"She’s missed you too…you and Jack," you assured him. "When she found out we were visiting you she got so excited."

Luke smiled softly as this, his head ducking bashfully, as he stretched out on the couch. feeling a deep warmth spread in his heart.

The next morning, Luke and Evie snuck out for breakfast, FaceTiming Jack as they did so to have one of their infamous pancake outings.

#wineauntie #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes fluff #nhl x reader #quinn hughes fanfic #quinn hughes fanfiction #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes fluff #luke hughes oneshot #luke hughes fic #luke hughes fanfiction #luke hughes x oc #luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes #qh43 #lh 43 #quinn hughes one shot #quinn hughes blurb #luke hughes blurb #ivy talks — fif au #fif au #fif au — fics #family is family universe #family is family

[aniesvision]

let's find out! (matt x chris x f! reader)

warnings: NOT incest (matt and chris barely even look at each other in this one), drinking, smoking, sexual/+18 card game, dirty talk, dirty jokes, pet names (princess, sweetheart), making out, fingering, oral (f! receiving), masturbation, choking, spanking, praising, overstimulation, squirting. (I might be forgetting something)

a/n: omg this is such an alarming amount of warnings I'm scared?? I'm sorry if anything's wrong, english is not my first language!

synopsis: when you were supposed to have a sleepover with Nick, but he forgot to warn you that he was out with Madi, causing you to have a few hours alone with Matt and Chris.

🪻🪻🪻

-I'm here!! —I yell, passing through the front door.

I look around confused when I didn't hear any response, my eyes only meeting Matt's figure on the couch.

-Hey, where's Nick? —I ask, letting my backpack fall to the ground.

-Out with Madi. —He finally looks back at me.

-Oh, he told me to come over, we're supposed to have a sleepover. —I explain, furrowing my eyebrows and taking a seat next to Matt.

-He'll probably be back soon. —He assures me with a gentle smile.

-LOOK WHAT I FOUND.

I turn around, seeing Chris holding some sort of card game.

-Hey, I didn't know you were here. —He walks towards me, playfully messing with my hair. I giggle, shoving his hand away.

-What's that? —Matt asks, curious with the game Chris was still holding.

-Oh, yeah, I was trying to find my belt but I found this instead, it's a game we got as a present on tour, it's called 'Can You?'.

Matt quickly grabs the game and starts reading the instructions. Apparently it has three different parts, one of questions for girls, another one of questions for boys and the last one being questions for everyone.

-Looks like a drinking game. We answer or drink. —He continues reading the box quietly, me and Chris exchanging a look.

They are not drinkers, and honestly, I'm not either. I only like to drink in special occasions and sometimes socially just to get in the vibe, but not much, and definitely not shots. I'm more of a fruity cocktail kind of girl.

Matt opens the box and stands up, shuffling the cards as he walked to the kitchen. He suddenly takes a bottle of vodka out of the fridge, looking at both me and Chris.

-Are we playing or not? —He asks, impatient, making me raise an eyebrow at his tone.

Chris walks to the kitchen and I follow behind, not really in the mood to drink. I watch as Matt sets two shot cups on the counter, looking up at me.

-Wanna smoke instead of drink? —He asks, making my eyes shine a bit.

Although I'm not into drinking, smoking is one of my favorite activities. I love the way the weed makes me feel so calm and connected to the world. Everything feels so incredibly real.

I nod, smiling when he hands me a lighter. I quickly open one of the zippers on my backpack, grabbing a small bag that I use to carry my smoking utensils around. Gladly I already had rolled one and I just light it up, feeling the smoke and blowing it slowly.

Matt and Chris decided to take a small shot before we start the game, and I laugh at their faces as they opened up cans of pepsis to get rid off the taste of pure alcohol.

-Right, let's start. —Chris says.

We all go back to the living room, deciding to make a circle around the coffee table. Chris takes the first card of the deck of questions for boys, reading it out loud as I slowly roll another joint.

-Can you make someone beg for you?

He giggles with his eyes glued on the card, Matt's quiet "what the fuck" makes me laugh as I set the joint on the coffee table and light up the other one I was already smoking before.

-I though it was +18 because it's a drinking game, I didn't know it was about sex. —Matt rests the back of his head on the couch, shaking his head.

-Well, we're already playing and it's only us three, so don't be a bitch. —Chris teases, placing his card aside. -And my answer is yes, I can definitely make someone beg. —He winks with a cocky smile.

Matt takes another shot, announcing that he needs to drink if he is going to sit still and listen to his brother lying. I just simply stay silent, laughing at their bickering and taking hits of my joint, enjoying the feeling.

Matt was next, taking a card from the same deck as Chris and reading it.

-Can you make someone finish more than once in one night?

I look at his cheeks getting slightly red and a shy smirk on his lips.

-For sure. —He shrugs, throwing the card on the ground to separate it from the others.

It was a bit odd to sit and listen to my friends talking about sex. We never really talked about our sex lives before, so I wasn't really sure what to expect.

Both of them look at me and I take a hit of the joint before picking up my card from the girl's deck.

-Can you handle overstimulation?

I tilt my head to the side, setting the card on the floor and taking a deep breath before responding.

-Yeah, I guess. —I shrug.

Matt smiles and Chris just takes another shot, followed by sips of his pepsi.

Things escalated quickly. The boys were already a bit drunk, considering they're not used to drink and a few cards were just way too explicit to even talk about. And I was already getting high, lighting up the third joint I rolled. We were all laughing at nothing.

I wanted to get comfortable so I was now sitting next to Matt on the couch, my legs on top of his.

-You really expect us to believe you don't like to be praised? —Chris pointed between him and Matt, his tone sarcastic as he looked at me like I was crazy.

I laugh, shrugging and throwing my head back to rest it on the back of the couch, blowing the smoke and feeling like I couldn't stop smiling. I was so high by now that my mind couldn't even process my own words, I was just spilling them.

-I don't know, dude. —I respond, closing my eyes and feeling Matt's hands on my legs, holding me so I wouldn't fall from the couch.

-Right. So if, hypothetically speaking, we were fucking and I praised you, you wouldn't like it? —Chris continued, propping himself on his palms behind his body.

I giggle, putting out the joint and laying on the couch, keeping my legs on Matt's. His hands slide up to my knees, thumbs rubbing my skin gently.

-I mean, probably would, but I don't know, I haven't been with anyone who praised me during sex, all I've heard was degrading shit.

I take a deep breath, enjoying the feeling of Matt's thumb caressing my knees and the comfortable position I am. Also, my body feels so light, like I'm floating, the soft tingles on my skin whenever I imagine visuals in my mind of what we're currently talking about makes it harder to concentrate on anything else but how hot the room feels.

Matt probably notices how my body was turning hot, his fingers slowly moving to my thighs. I open my eyes when I hear a weird noise, trying to ignore Matt's hands, and I watch as Chris walks towards me and kneels in front of my face with a grin.

I thought he was going to do something, my heart already beating fast, but all he did was hand me a new card, sitting normally.

-Your turn, princess. —He says, the pet name making my stomach swirl.

I just nod, taking the card and licking my lips before reading it out loud.

-Can you squirt?

There's a moment of silence when Matt and Chris just looked at me and I basically got in a trance thinking about this question.

-I think I can, but I never did. —I give the card back to Chris, who looked at me confused.

Before he could even ask, Matt cuts the silence to do it himself.

-What do you mean?

Once again, I laugh. It was somehow funny to me that this conversation was actually happening.

-I mean, sometimes when I'm like, you know, trying to make myself feel good, I feel like if I keep going for just a bit longer I'd probably squirt, but I never do, I'm actually kind of scared to try, so I don't know. –I explain.

It was weird to say it out loud, but I wasn't lying. Matt and Chris both exchange a look, then they look back at me, making me feel a bit nervous. Matt's hands continued their way up my thighs, slightly squeezing them, making me sigh quietly and prop myself on my elbows. Our eyes meet in a deep stare, his pupils dilated, making the blue almost disappear.

-Wanna find out? —I hear Chris' voice, his tone hoarse and deeper than usual.

My eyes widen at his words, but Matt didn't seem to care at all, he didn't yell at his brother, in fact, he only moved his hands further up and smirked at me.

I turn my head to see Chris, confused if he was joking, but he clearly wasn't.

-What? —I ask, furrowing my eyebrows and laughing out of nervousness.

Maybe I was too high to understand what was happening, but his intentions were exactly what I thought initially. I realize that when he moved closer to me, his eyes staring at my lips.

-I mean, I can help you find out if you want.

He didn't sound so drunk, but it was obvious that he wasn't sober. He'd never say that if he was. And even though I was high and definitely not thinking straight, my mind couldn't process that he was actually offering something entirely different than anything we ever did. And that Matt was silently watching it without interrupting or trying to shove his brother off.

It was weird. And the weirdest part was that something inside me didn't want to deny his offer. Probably not the sober part.

I was feeling so many things at once. I was confused, nervous, my heart was beating so fast, my mind was foggy and my body felt so heavy but so light at the same time, my mouth and throat were dry.

Matt takes my silence as I sign, squeezing my inner thigh lightly, getting my attention back.

-He asked you a question, sweetheart. —His voice echoed around the room.

I watch as he keeps slowly moving his hands, his fingertips brushing against my skin making me shiver. Why the fuck am I wet right now? They're my friends, this is definitely not a good idea.

As Matt's fingers get closer to my clothed pussy, I feel Chris leaning to press gentle kisses on my neck. I sigh in surprise, closing my eyes and automatically tilting my head to give him more access.

I couldn't even believe it was real until Chris placed his hand on my jaw and turned my head to face him, brushing his lips against mine. Still propped on my elbows, I raise my hand that was closer to him and tug on his shirt, pulling him closer.

Matt's hands were quick to unbutton my jeans, slipping them down to my ankles. Feeling the cool breeze against my skin makes me sigh, witch Chris sees as an opportunity to slide his tongue in my mouth.

I can feel Matt's fingertips running up and down my thighs, exploring my body. He leans slightly just to press kisses along my legs, teasing me as Chris kissed me.

Ending the kiss, breathless, I pull away, meeting Chris' eyes already on mine. He smiles at me, his hand still on my jaw, thumb caressing my cheek. He pulls me into another kiss just about the same time as Matt's fingers starts rubbing circles on my clothed clit.

I squirm under his touch, moaning softly against Chris' lips. Chris uses his free hand to lift my shirt over my head, throwing it aside and lowering his kisses to my neck once more.

I keep my eyes closed, biting my lips when I feel Matt sliding my panties down and discarding it with the rest of my clothes.

-You okay, sweetheart? —Matt asks. I could sense his smirk just by his tone.

I simply hum in response, still wondering how did we get in this situation, how did I let myself get in this situation. Chris was still showering my body with kisses, snicking his hand under my back to unclip my bra, when Matt's tongue suddenly makes contact with my wetness.

A loud gasp escapes my lips, one of my hands immediately finding his hair. As if this new stimulation wasn't enough, Chris moves one hand to my squeeze one of my tits and the other to choke me lightly.

-Tell me if it's too much, princess, just wanna make you feel good, yeah? —Chris's words only fueled my desire, making me even wetter than I already was.

I open my eyes to take in the situation, the sight of Matt's face in between my legs and Chris's hands all over my body is definitely something I've never thought I'd see. Noticing my gaze, Chris starts to swirl his tongue around my nipple, the pressure on my neck tightening.

I can't help but moan when I feel waves of pleasure taking over my body. Matt's tongue worked magically, it was clear that even drunk he knows how to use his mouth.

Chris kissed me again after a while, swallowing my moans and only pulling away to slap my face. It wasn't so hard, just enough pressure to make me whine with the mixture of pain and pleasure.

-Yeah? You like that, princess? Such a good girl for us, letting your friends help you out, so proud of you.

He immediately kisses me again, not giving me any time to process his words.

-Fuck... —My loud moan is muffled by Chris's lips when a knot starts forming in my stomach.

Matt, noticing I was getting close, inserts one finger in, thrusting it at the same pace his tongue moved. It was enough to drive me crazy, my moans filling the room.

-Close princess? —Chris asks, leaving hickeys on my neck.

-So close. —I whisper back, bucking my hips against Matt's face.

Chris only giggles against my skin, sliding his hand down to my stomach.

Not even a full minute later, the knot on my stomach snaps and I feel myself releasing on Matt's lips and chin. My grip in his hair was tight and even trying to push him away after my orgasm, he didn't stop.

-Matt... —I whine, breathly, my legs shaking and trying to close.

-Just a little bit more, you taste so good.

He only stops to mumble his words, pulling his finger out and gripping both my thighs with his hands, keeping me still.

-Can't... —I start to respond, but am interrupted by Chris.

-Yes, you can, you're doing so good. —He grabs my free hand, guiding it to the bulge in his sweatpants.

I turn my head to look at Chris, watching as he stands up, staying right in front of me. He takes both his pants and boxers down in one motion, my eyes widening when I see his free dick.

-C'mon, pretty girl, you know what to do.

I wrap my hand around his cock, rubbing my thumb against his tip, spreading precum. I slowly start to move my hand, stroking him. His groans were my motivation to increase the pace.

The overstimulation starts to feel too much, and I couldn't stop moving on the couch, squirming and rolling my hips against Matt's lips, trying to cope with the pleasure and slight pain.

-Fuck, can't... mhm shit too much. —I cry out.

Chris places one hand on top of mine, doing almost all the work as I focused on my second orgasm, quickly approaching.

Matt only stops to look up, caressing my inner thighs with his hands.

-Give it to me, sweetheart. Let it all go.

And as soon as he finishes talking, he was eating me out again, making me almost scream out of pleasure.

I could feel that this one was different, way more intense and it was similar to the feeling I get when I need to pee badly.

Chris's sounds only get louder and I feel his cock twitching against my hand, he moves faster and I turn my head to focus on him.

-You're so fucking pretty. —He breaths, a moan escaping his lips as he shoots his load over my stomach and boobs.

The sight of him, my hand still on his length, Matt in between my legs, it was all too much. My second orgasm hit me like a punch, a loud pitchy moan leave my lips as I feel myself squirting for the first time ever, right on Matt's face.

-Holy shit, that was so hot. —I hear Chris whispering next to me, slowly bending to pick up his boxers and pants and get dressed again.

-You did so good. —Matt praises, wiping his chin with the top of his hand and hovering over me to kiss me.

In the meantime, Chris collects all my clothes from the ground, waiting patiently to help me get dressed.

Matt pulls away after a few seconds, pecking my lips and helping me sit down on the couch. Both of them helps me dress up again as I only tried to catch my breath.

-Are you okay? —Matt asks, after we were all decently dressed.

I nod, taking a deep breath to fully recover.

-I am, that was... insane. —I giggle, not knowing exactly what to say.

-Insane is a good word to describe it. —Chris laughs.

When I was about to say something else, the front door opens and we all turn our heads to see Nick.

-What the FUCK happened here?

Nick's mouth opens in an 'o' shape, and just now I look around the room. There's cards everywhere, ashes and a half joint on the coffee table, two shot cups and a bottle of vodka next to the coffee table, and a huge wet spot on the couch. We probably all looked like a mess too.

-You don't wanna find out. —Chris is the only one that comes up with a response.

🪻🪻🪻

a/n: I loveee fics with card games!! also I have no idea if this one even exists, I just "created" it for the fic, but it was so fun to write! I hope you guys liked it too! (also, comment or send me a message if you want to be tagged whenever I post a new fic ✨)

tags 💕

@elsxz1 @ghostlythinggoingaround @zayyluvz @lovefromlilia @101sara

#fanfic #chris sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #youtube #romance #sturniolo smut #smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo smut

[hunnymisworld]

How the JJK characters would respond to you:

When you twist your ankle during training.

SFW | Fluff | Short au

GOJO SATORU

Would probably laugh at you for being "dumb" and "clumsy" before actually helping you when he notices that your ankle start to look swollen T.T

"Stupid ass. I told you to fix your form. You can't fight looking like T H A T"

Trains you to make your fighting style to look effortless.

Will call Shoko to "deal" with your injury T.T (but he will be there with you while you are getting treated) Yes, you're going to THE CLINIC where Shoko is - not just the mini clinic in the the Tokyo Jujutsu High.

Will roast the heck out of you for having a bad stance but is secretly worried about you. (Explains why he rushed you to Shoko's clinic)

A DRAMA QUEEN (but hides it well)

Gives you 5 days to rest your feet.

Let's you observe the training instead.

Will give you advice while he drives you back to your dorm and WILL AGREE if you ask to get ice cream. (Ends up buying ice cream for everybody)

THE FUN AND CHAOTIC TRAINOR (wbk he's the strongest; GOAT fr)

NANAMI KENTO

Will help you up but then he noticed you wince when you try to balance yourself up.

"What's wrong y/n? Are you hurt?"

A G E N T L E M A N

Would carry you on his back towards the clinic and get you the first aid kit (istg this man KNOWS what he is doing - trust him)

Will treat you himself but will call Shoko to ask what dose and type of painkiller you need and buy it for you if you needed it.

"Next time, fix your stance and form. You can try to look at your reflection in the mirror and practice it when your feet gets better"

Gets you something warm to eat before he continue treating your swollen ankle (he takes his time cause he wants his work to be neat)

Gives you a WHOLE WEEK to recover. He would call every now and then to check up on you since he is busy with work but he occasionally comes over if you really can't get up.

THE SERIOUS TYPE (but turns soft when his students get injured during training; he isn't ashamed of showing he cares)

YUJI ITADORI

Has FAST REFLEXES and catches you before you even hit the ground.

"Woah there, careful"

You wince and he noticed your ankle start to get red and be swollen.

"Hold on to me, we'll go to the clinic." and carries you bridal style. It's a given that he is strong, he can EASILY carry you without putting much effort.

You can smell his cologne. Best believe when i tell you this man's perfume is just so good you won't even notice his sweat from the training.

When you get to the clinic, he holds your hand while your ankle is being treated and asks if you're in pain from time to time.

You would also have to constantly remind him that you are okay and you can handle the pain.

He would buy you comfort food after getting treated and would give you a LONGGGGG rest day (he'll just wait for you when you're ready for training again)

Would be there all throughout your recovery period. (ISTG this man will assist you in every thing that you do)

"Call me whenever you ever need anything. Don't get up from that bed whatsoever, i'll get you what you need"

Thinks its better to give you advice after your recovery cause he does not want to stress you even more knowing that you made a mistake in your form.

A SOFTIE ALL THROUGHOUT but gets very protective of you when you try to be stubborn and do things yourself. (He'd tell you "I can do it, i know you are capable, but let me") You won't even have a say cause he's so persistent

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

NOT SHOCKED that you twist your ankle. He already noticed long before you had the wrong form. Yes - he already expected that you'll twist your ankle.

"Did you not learn anything at all when doing the right form?"

You're not sure if he is concerned or pissed that you twisted your ankle accidentally.

He is concerned, he just doesn't show it.

"This is only because you're injured. Dumbass" and proceeds to let you have a piggyback ride.

Silent all the way to the clinic but you caught him a few times glancing and looking down at your swollen ankle.

You jokingly tell him to not worry and that you won't die from it and he'll just reply with "You will if you were fighting with a cursed spirit. Haven't you thought of that?"

His tone was kinda firm so you just went silent. Y/n was S I L E N C E D.

Leaves you while you were getting treated but to your surprise, he bought you A TON of snacks and hands them to you. ( a week's worth of snack)

"I just bought them all since it's gonna take a while for you to recover"

Gives you the whole week to recover.

Would pass by your dorm without your knowledge to secretly check up on you while recovering.

Would be the fastest to pick up the phone whenever you decied to call him to ask for assistance.

THE TSUNDERE (fr)

NOBARA KUGISAKI

Girl was SHOCKED - she thought she really hurt you that bad when you fell.

"OH MY GOD. I'M SO SORRY WHAT- " and proceeds to assist you to stand up.

"YOu twisted your ankle?!" would tear up cause she feels bad for you.

Would call yuji to carry you to the clinic - she can't carry you T.T

IS LIKE A MOTHER. Will nag about how you were not listening and applying the proper forms to prevent injury.

At this point she already called Megumi to go on a little grocery shopping to get you food (yes mother, walk em' boys like a dog)

Would stay in your dorm and have a sleep over for a whole week 'til you recover.

Has the COMPLETE package for a sleep over. (Food - snacks - skin care - new make up and make up brushes) To make up for what happened.

Slightly blames herself for what happened.

Would cook your favorite food for you.

THE MOTHER AND SISTER IN ONE

E N D

Note: you can comment for other character request.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #nanami kento #nanami x reader #itadori yuuji #yuuji x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #nobara kugisaki #nobara x reader #jujutsu sorcerer #jjk fluff

[lynnbanks]

Ooh! Maybe a Luke x reader where it’s an unexpected pregnancy? She holds off telling him cause she’s afraid of his reaction, and accidentally tells Jack first.

She had no idea she was with child until her latest doctor's appointment where they made her take a test before she could be prescribed her new medication. One second she is worry-free and excited to get lunch with her boyfriend after her appointment and all of a sudden the thought of doing anything makes her sick.

“We know from your blood work you are pregnant but unfortunately you will have to go up to the 7th floor to make an appointment with an ob-gyn.” and y/n is still very much in shock and just shakes her head yes. Walking out of the doctor's hands shaking “What the fuck am I going to do.”

I can't tell Luke I'm pregnant, what if he leaves, what if this tears us apart, what if we are bad parents, what if I am ruining his career? All these what-ifs with nobody to pull her out of it.

She makes it to the spot where they agreed to meet for lunch “Hi baby how are you feeling?” Luke asked, taking in her pale face and shaking frame “Did everything go okay? You don't look too good.”

Pulling herself from her thoughts “Yeah um I-they had to take some blood so I'm a little shaky that's all.”

“Well, we should probably eat then!” He says it with a big smile, happy to see his girlfriend after just a few hours apart. and she couldn't be the one to wipe the smile off of his face so she decided to not bring up what the doctor had just told her.

3 weeks later y/n is now 11 weeks pregnant and has just about all of the early stage symptoms. Her first appointment with her ob-gyn is next week and she is terrified. Luke is starting to notice some changes in her too. She is more distant, and emotional this morning. He caught her throwing up after breakfast and when she was done she acted as if she had been caught doing something bad.

“Let's get you to bed sweet girl, you need some rest.” y/n can't tell if it is the fear, the guilt or the baby growing inside of her but she feels like she is about to throw up the very little food she has been able to keep down. “ you must have caught what jack had last week,” Luke says covering her up

And it is that exact reason Jack was home early from practice 3 days later to find his brother's girlfriend passed out on the floor in the middle of the apartment. And is sitting with her in the emergency room till Luke can switch with him. All is fine until the doctor walks into her room “Hi my name is doctor brown this is Emma she will be taking notes for me while we talk”

pulling out her stethoscope to do a plus measurement test “So what are we in here for today?” before y/n can say anything Jack says it for her “She was passed out on the floor of our apartment.” the doctor nodes her head “In your charts, it says you are in the early stages of pregnancy. Do you know how far along you are?”

the room goes dead silent “The reason I say that is because it is normal to be dizzy during the first few weeks but if it is causing you to faint we definitely want to check in with your OB to make sure mom and baby are doing ok.” y/n can feel the tears fill her eyes this was not happening right now

“ I'm assuming you are Dad?” the doctor says to Jack who looks just as pale as she did when she found out “Um n-no no that would be my brother” he says looking at y/n who looks like she might have a mental breakdown at any second

“Oh I'm sorry um well from what I am seeing everything looks good but we still want to do an ultrasound just to cover all our bases. We will have someone come in just a few minutes to get that done for you,” she says, pumping some hand sanitizer into her hands “My only suggestions would be lots of rest and to drink lots of water and if everything is all good with the ultrasound you should be out of here pretty soon.” be for leaving me to fix this mess alone.

“ Did you know?” Jack asked and all y/n could manage to do was sob into her hands and shake her head yes “Does he know?” she shook her head no “Oh y/n” he said as if she was a lost puppy coming up to hug her tight while she let it all go “I don't want him to leave me.”

She was full-on sobbing “What, why would you think that?” “ I am ruining his life!” Jack pulled away to get a good look at the girl he saw as a little sister breaking down in his arms “Hey it takes two to tango and it's not fair to him for you to say that when he doesn't even know.” y/n hadn't thought about how unfair it was to judge Luke for a reaction she didn't know he was going to have

“ I'm scared; every woman in my life has done it alone. I know what it looks like and I can't do it.”

Jack is rubbing her back trying to soothe her as best as he can. “Luke is nothing like those guys ok and if he did ever turn out to be one of those guys you know me and Quinn would be right by your side as you kick his ass.” y/n laughed a little at that “ but you keeping this from him is going to break his heart.

Let me know if y'all want Luke's reaction if I keep writing right now it is only going to get worse. I also love doing y'all requests. And again grammar spelling and all of the above don't exist here.💋💋

#luke hughes #luke hughes blurb #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x you #jack hughes

[readychilledwine]

✨️ACOTAR Hands Handcanons✨️

Warnings - sexual references

A/N - "But liz! Where is Az?" I didn't include Azriel because I don't think some people understand how brutally scarred his hands are. A lot of people headcanon him wear rings and watches to distract from his scarring, but his scarring would be so brutal from his hands being set on fire with oil that wearing jewelry for him would be nearly impossible and more than likely very uncomfortable both physically and in the sense that jewelry will draw attention to his hands, something we know canon Azriel hates. If it is wanted, I will do a reblog with Azzy's hands, but they will be accurate, not pretty.

Also, if you're a hand whore like I am, you have to go look at this post from the lovely @thehighladywrites about asking for hand pics 🥵🥵 it's one of my favorites.

✨️ Acotar Body Headcanons Masterlist ✨️ Master Masterlist ✨️

Rhys

Rhys is a firm believer in hands speaking of how well you care for yourself, so the man have perfect hands.

Rhys keeps his nails neat and trimmed, his cuticles cut, and his nail bed moisturized.

Rhys has fine hand creams imported from across the seas. It's made with water from some river you don't remember the name of. It matches his skincare line. Very spoiled Illyrian baby.

Rhys does have calloused hands, but they are not rough and dry. The calloused mainly rest towards the top of his palm near where his fingers begin. It's one small sigh of his skill with blades.

Rhys like to accessorize, but not too much, a few unique rings and a bracelet

Cassian

We're just here to make sure @sarawritestories can't sleep without dreaming of Cassian.

These are some of my favorite hands in all of Hollywood. Say hello to the hands of Alexander Skarsgård. His hands are massive.

Cassian does have rougher hands, but he can not help it. He's tried Rhysie little princess routine, but it doesn't work. That is more than likely due to the fact that he's constantly training and teaching someone.

You truly do not mind, though. Cassian's callouses and small scars in his hands remind you that you are safe. That no one will ever harm you as long as he is around.

One of Cassian's favorite acts of service you provide for him is little at home hand care sessions. You will soak his hands in warm water and then wash and care for them. You trim his nails, apply cuticle oils, and then use a very expensive lotion that helps keep his hands softer.

Cassian's hands are constantly on you. His favorite placement is when he gets to cup under your breasts. Preferably below your shirt. And he doesn't care who sees him doing it. His second favorite placement is your hips or ass.

Cassian does not accessorize since he rarely does not have his hand siphons on. The only jewelry on his hands is his wedding band

Lucien

Soft, warm, and gentle. Lucien's hands are a personification of the male himself.

They are not too large, but they're definitely big, and Lucien has strong hands.

Lucien tries his very best to keep his hands very soft he is constantly greeting and meeting new fae as an emissary, so he ensures his hands are covered while training.

Lucien also knows you appreciate how soft his hands are. He loves watching as you lean into his touch. He loves watching you shiver when he runs them along your body.

Lucien will wear jewelry for special occasions. Otherwise, he tends to avoid it. You never know when he will need to fish with his hair and bare hands to impress you. He had a reputation to maintain there.

Eris

Eris is constantly wearing rings and fine jewelry. His hands are part of his mask of cruelty only you and a few others get to see beyond.

Eris hates his hands. He hates how they've been used to cause pain. He hates how they remind him of his father's, he hates the small scars on them.

It almost confuses him when his hands bring you pleasure. When he watches as you fall apart under his touch.

He has started to care for them more now that he has you. His beautiful wonderful you.

You have noticed the rough skin getting softer. How his nail beds seem healthier. You catch him one night with his expensive hand creme and cuticle oils and your heart melts.

Soon, the jewelry becomes a little less and less, but you told him it would be a lie of you ever said you didn't love the way rings sat on his slender hands.

Nesta

Nail, simple, and with a touch of sparkle.

Nesta keeps her hands very pretty and very soft.

Her nails are also always professionally done on Rhysand's dime.

Nesta goes to the salon once a month. She gets the works. The expensive manicures. Rhys owes her, and she wants pretty hands.

Her grandmother and mama told her hands can make or break a marriage, and this is something she can not shake.

She loves clean, simple polish. Neutral colors or a French tip, that's all. For special occasions, she will do an iridescent polish.

As Lady Death, she tries not to wear too much jewelry, but she does have two favorite rings she wears. One from you, one from Cassian.

Elain

I am a garden hobby girl, so this one was fun.

Elain keeps her nails very short. She is constantly struggling with dirt under and around her nails, so she figures keeping them short is best.

Elain has surprisingly rough hands. A garden is a lot of manual labor, and she refuses to wear gloves, so she constantly dealing with little cuts and callouses.

You bought Elain a nail brush and special soaps meant to help her keep her nails clean so it doesn't interfere with her love of baking or... other activities involving you.

Elain's hands are very small, but they fit perfectly into yours.

Feyre

This is the hands I identified most with.

Feyre's hands are constantly covered in paint now that the lands are in a time of peace.

She's been known to wipe her palette knife off on the back of her hand or dab a paint brush on them if she picks up too much color. Or use them to swatch shades as she's mixing.

It is messy, but you adore it. You love helping her peel off the bigger chunks and helping her scrub them clean.

Underneath that paint, her hands can be a little dry, so you two have been caught many times sneaking into Rhysand's room to steal his hand creme.

Feyre keeps her nails a medium length. She will paint them for fun every so often, but she sees no point since they are typically covered in her medium of choice.

Mor

The baddie of the group.

Mor keeps her hands ready to greet royalty. They are so soft, so well kept, and constantly being pampered.

Mor used hand creme at least once and hour.

She keeps her nails longer, minus two on each hand. Iykyk.

Her nails have to be red. She will not paint them any color but her power color.

She is constantly wearing a ton of rings and jewelry as well.

I personally see Mor as a gold tone girlie.

The only ring she consistently wears is her wedding ring. Otherwise, all her other jewelry is subject to change.

Amren

Nails sharp enough to rip your eye out. Sorry, Lucien.

Amren sees her hands as weapons and her nails as weapons as well. But like all powerful weapons, they need to hidden.

She hides them using fae beauty standards. Manicures, jewelry, nail polish. Amren fully believes she's fooling other fae with those daggers attached to five small fingers but she isn't.

Amren does not do two curtesy nails. Amren is a starfish. You should be spoiling her. Not the other way around.

Finding out she could do jewels on her manicure was a life changing moment for her.

She practically purrs when she gets a fresh set now.

You swear she is secretly a fire drake with the amount of jewelry she has for her hands and on her nails.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites

#elizabeths.updates #acotar #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #azriel #rhys acotar #rhysand acotar #cassian acotar #cassian of illyria #lucien vanserra acotar #lucien vandaddy #lucien acotar #eris vanserra #eris vanserra acotar #eris vandaddy #nesta archeron #nesta acotar #elain archeron acotar #elain acheron #elain acotar #feyre acotar #feyre archeron #mor acotar #morrigan #amren #amren acotar #acotar headcanons