#this is the not the first time I’ve said this but I just- THEY SLEPT SO HARD ON HIS VOCALS LIKE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

arachine · 7 months

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yes, i'm ready (to fall in love)

── ˚₊✩‧₊ genre: smut, fluff, mild angst

── ˚₊✩‧₊ synopsis: after reader is persuaded into putting herself back out there by long time friend, shoko, she successfully ends up scoring a date. unbeknownst to her, though, the gods have different plans—and one of them seems especially interested in her relationship with ex-husband, gojo satoru.

or in other words: a failed date results in a night of passion amongst former lovers.

── ˚₊✩‧₊ contents: 13.5k words, ex-husband!gojo + co-parent!gojo, slight dub-con (alcohol use), dumbification, overstimulation, vaginal penetration, unconventional form of contraception (pull-out method - don’t do this), pussy eating + one oc for the sake of plot

── ˚₊✩‧₊ note: i know this is really long and most people don’t have the attention span for it but PLEASE give it a chance! this is literally the longest piece of fiction i’ve ever written and i’m really proud of it :(

songs to listen to for best reading experience: donny hathaway - i love you more than you’ll ever know barbara mason - i’m ready partynextdoor - showing you bryson tiller - been that way

After you divorced your ex-husband, and decided to devote all of your time to being a mother, you never really considered getting back into the dating world. Not that you didn’t eventually want to settle down with someone new, but the dating world now was just so–different.

Different in the sense that meeting people organically was becoming increasingly difficult. It wasn’t like how it used to be in high school or college, and it really didn’t take that much effort then to get a man’s number by the end of your outing.

When you were in your early twenties, a brush of your hand on a man’s arm would’ve worked. An ‘accidental’ bump into someone at a grocery store or cafe might’ve ended in a quick lay. Using these tactics today, though, might earn you some weird looks–have–earned you some weird looks.

You’re on call with a friend from college when you begin recounting something embarrassing that happened to you recently. At first, the conversation started out about all of the professors you would’ve slept with (if given the chance), but then, one thing led to another, and she asked you something that made you wince:

“‘How’s your dating life been since, you know, Satoru?’”

There’s a heavy silence from your end, and she almost thinks you hung up.

“I mean, if you want to share,” she splurts, attempting to approach this gently, “I know that after the divorce, I wasn’t there for you like you needed, but I’d like to make up for that–if you’d let me.”

Shoko’s always been like that. Blunt and charismatic, but gentle and zephyr-light in the way she cares for those closest to her. It’s a trait of hers that you admire, because not so many people would care to treat your heart with such fragility.

“No, it’s okay. You can ask, you know, it’s not this secret thing,” you start, sighing before continuing, “it happened, and it was a mutual decision.”

Shoko hums on the other side, “Well, I’m still sorry. I let us go without talking for far too long…”

“Well, I accept your apology, even if it’s unwarranted. Like I said, it was mutual and…there wasn’t really an intense grieving period for me? The only thing that hurt me is that you distanced yourself. I mean, the girls did miss their aunt Shoko…” you say, trying to make her feel bad but not too bad.

“I know, I know, I’m a bad aunt,” she jests, then the tone shifts to something serious. “I think I was just scared because both of you were my best-friends. I didn’t want to ‘pick sides’, but I see now that it was a mutual decision, so I’m assuming you two are on good-terms?”

Again, you pause, “I mean, yeah. Satoru will always be my best friend. We may not be together romantically but he’s such an integral part of my life, I couldn’t do this–all of this–alone.” After you say it, you feel a weight being lifted off of your chest that you didn’t know was even there.

You think nobody would understand if you told them this. You think they’d question how a person could divorce someone who’s supposed to be their best-friend. And with the way you describe it, they’d probably think you were still in love with him. But Shoko’s different, she gets it. Which is why saying it to her came so easily.

“He is a great father,” she chimes in, “but you two rushed into it so quickly, I don’t think either of you had time to discover yourselves after college.”

Although she can’t see it, you smile. Because she gets it. Even if time did place itself in between the two of you, she was there for most of it, when things were still touch-and-go. When things were fresh, and clumsy.

“Exactly, that was our biggest gripe,” you admit, “We didn’t afford ourselves that time to grow, and I think that hindered our relationship. We weren’t husband and wife first, we were parents–and we were young, way too young.”

“You made it, though,” Shoko tries to brighten the mood, “you’re both amazing parents, and I know those beautiful girls that you created are lucky to have you.”

The intimacy of the conversation sends your emotions into overdrive. You quickly realize how much you missed her, how much you yearned to talk to her. To reconnect on this level.

A single tear cascades down your cheek, and you try not to sound like you’re crying when you say, “Ok, enough about that. You wanted to know about my shitty dating life, right?”

It happened last week, the grocery store incident. You were out picking up a few things for dinner when you spotted a cute guy standing outside of the aisle a few rows from you. He was fit beyond measure, in looks and strength, and was wandering around aimlessly in pursuit of red pepper flakes.

Coincidentally, you just happened to be in the seasoning aisle, and like the good samaritan you were, decided to personally hand-deliver it to him.

You wince as you vividly recall the embarrassing ordeal that ensued immediately after.

“Hey,” you peer from behind the aisle, with a bottle of red pepper flakes in tow. “I heard you mumbling about finding this, and you looked pretty lost, so I thought I’d pick ‘em out for you.”

The man’s brows furrow briefly before his lips up-turn into a grateful smile, “Oh, cool, thank you so much!” As quickly as the conversation started, it ends even quicker. He gives you a final nod of endearment before he’s turning around on his heels to resume his shopping.

“God, could he be any more dense? The men today really make you work for it, huh?” you mumble to yourself, pulling the bosom of your blouse down until a good amount of cleavage is on display. “Okay, alright. You got this, you got this. This always used to work, right? Yeah, men love boobs.”

Walking up to the man again, you try a different approach–a bolder approach. “Not to be a bother but I was wondering if I could-”

“Babe? Oh, there you are,” a new voice interjects. The owner of the voice emerges from around the corner and walks up to the man with a cart and a baby in tow. You’re stunned, to say the least. All you can do is stand there and blink in complete and utter dumbfoundment. As you remain in their presence, you take a moment to analyze the woman. She’s gorgeous, and toned. A real model-type broad, with feline-ish features that make so much sense paired with the man who appears to be her partner.

Oh, you think, and apparently say aloud, too. That’s when the woman turns to you, finally acknowledging your much smaller, and much quieter presence.

“Hi, can we help you?” she smiles, and it’s actually genuine. Toothy and perfect, and totally not jealous. You blink once, twice, before gathering your wits to answer her question.

“Yeah, uh, no. I actually, uhm, was helping your h-husband. He was looking for red pepper flakes,” you mutter embarrassedly, and point to the bottle in his hand. Upon further observation, you notice that she isn’t exactly wearing a ring. You find this odd, especially because his not wearing a ring is what encouraged you to pursue him. Carefully, you prod.

“If I may ask, how come neither of you are wearing rings?” The couple gives each other a look, one that makes you feel like the odd man out. A look that is universally known, and without a doubt, could easily be translated to: ‘did this chick really just ask that?’

Still, you smile as you wait for an answer. The woman takes the initiative. “Yeah, we don’t really believe in rings, isn’t that right, babe?” she says so matter-of-factly. You blink again for what seems like the thousandth time, because of all things, you did not expect that to come out of her mouth. Her husband is quick to validate her statement.

“Yeah, we think rings are unnecessary, you know? You don’t need a piece of metal to confirm your feelings,” he says walking to his partner’s side and wrapping an arm around her.

Disgustingly, the two give each other googly eyes before locking lips briefly. You can tell they’re the type to probably share this information with just about any soul who asks. Today, you just happened to be that unfortunate soul.

“Are you married?” she queries, tilting her head against her husband’s chest.

“I was, now we just…co-parent,” you purse your lips, ready for this entire interaction to be over. The woman frowns at your answer, and this time it’s not as genuine.

“Awe, well, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It was actually a mutual decision,” you quip.

“Okay,” she smiles, widening her eyes at her husband to signal a departure, “well, it was nice meeting you, and thank you for the red pepper flakes.”

The family turns away and heads to the front where check-out is. You don’t even buy the items you intended to purchase, just leave your cart in the middle of whatever aisle you abandoned it and leave the store.

“Oh, baby, you didn’t?” Shoko asks in horror. You nod your head, still forgetting she can’t see you and the way you’re sliding down against the wall.

“I did, and I shan't ever again,” a laugh erupts from your throat.

“I mean, fuck, are we getting old? ‘Don’t believe in rings,’” she mumbles, “Don’t believe in rings, my ass! Is this what the youth are doing these days? Not proposing with rings?”

Now that you think about it, you wonder how that would even work. “Yeah, right? I mean, how does that even work? ‘Will you marry me? But, actually, you should know I don’t have a ring for you, so people will have to guess that we’re together purely based on vibes and energy,’” you mock, in a not-so-great man voice.

Shoko’s laughing so hard by the end of your bit that she breaks the sound barrier, and the sound that makes on the phone sends you into your own fit of laughter. You laugh so hard it seems like a stream of pee comes out. Curse your developed incontinence after motherhood.

“God, you’re so stupid, I can’t breathe,” she says exasperatedly, and you know that on the other side she’s probably keeling over in her bed.

“Oh, please. I bet you haven’t laughed this hard in a long time, bitch.”

“I haven’t,” she cackles. This back-and-forth continues until the two of you settle down enough to continue discussing your (pee-inducing) love life.

“You tried any dating apps?”

It’s a simple and valid question, but it only makes you laugh even harder. You only stop when the other side of the line goes quiet. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. It’s what everyone’s doing these days! You’re not that old, you know.”

“Shut up,” you kid, “ it’s just that I never considered it. I mean, dating apps feel so impersonal. How serious do people even take it?”

“Sure, there’s people who use it for casual hook-ups and stuff, but a lot of people do come out of it with a relationship. Just don’t knock it ‘till you try it.”

“Oh?” you muse, curious. You wish Shoko could see your face, and the weird little dance your brows were doing. “Shoko, have you used a dating app before?”

The brunette kisses her teeth. “Can’t get anything past you.”

“Never.”

There’s a sense of hesitance but you encourage her to elaborate because ‘she became estranged from you for almost a decade and needed to pay her dues’. Sighing defeatedly, she eventually acquiesces.

“Fine, fine, maybe I’ve…been on a few dates,” she starts, “–and had a few one night stands, maybe more than a few, and maybe even dated a guy that turned into my stalker–”

“Ieiri Shoko! You naughty, naughty girl! Wait, stalker?”

“To make a long story short, I got a restraining order on that creep. Anyway,” she segues, attempting to change the subject, “We should make you a profile!”

For the rest of your phone call, Shoko guides you through all of the dating app basics. She offers her expert advice as you scroll through your camera roll for potential photos to use. You go through about a hundred before you finally settle on five that she really likes.

The one that she tells you to put first is a photo of you in a bikini. It’s a few years old but she says you look ‘radiant’ and that your ‘tits were practically spilling out of the cups’. Plus, for further consolation, she says most people on dating apps are liars.

“Everyone’s got at least one old photo on their profile, doesn’t make you a catfish,” she quips, “just means you’re a nostalgic person!”

“Right…”

The next one is a selfie. You’re smiling big in it, showing your gums, and it’s genuine. Shoko says guys like those types of photos because it shows them that you’re approachable. It also won her over because it’s fairly recent, too.

Out of all your photos, there’s only a select few that were taken within the year. You had to admit to her that you never really took photos of yourself anymore. Satoru took most of your candids. Still, she had a mission. And she wasn’t going to be satisfied until she stuck around to see your first match.

“After the selfie you should put the one of you with the girls.”

The picture she’s referring to is one Satoru also took. You remember that day fondly, and even now, the memories feel like a warm embrace.

about 8 years ago . . .

“Dad, mom, look! Hurry!” Hana, your oldest, shouts. Satoru and you are sitting on a blanket up on the sand dunes with Haruki, who’s trying her best to make a sand castle–to no avail.

“What is it, hon?” Satoru and you rush over to her, snatching toddler Haruki in the same breath. When you get to the scene, a flood of warmth washes over you upon discovering the ‘threat’.

“See, it’s baby turtles!” Hana’s squatting in the sand, watching with pure and unfettered fascination as the hatchlings crawl north to the ocean. When she looks up at you, with eyes so bright, and a smile so big that’s missing two of her front teeth, you want to cry.

“Oh, hon, that’s beautiful,” you gasp, lowering to your haunches so that you can join her. Satoru is about to follow suit before deciding at the last minute to go back to the blanket. When he returns, he snaps a picture unbeknownst to you. Eventually, though, you turn your gaze to him and he captures–what he used to think then–the ‘prettiest’ photo of you.

“You sneaking photos of me?” you squint, pointing at him. He trods closer until he’s standing above you. Then he snaps another. Your head’s tilted up, and you’ve got one eye open, and the other closed because of the sun. He always liked when you squinted like that because it made your nose do this cute little scrunch.

“Yup, ‘cause you’re my muse.”

You’re pulled out of your daydream when Shoko says your name on the other line.

“You still there?”

“Yeah, it’s just…”

“Just what?” she queries, waiting for a response.

“I wanna use it, but my ex-husband took it. It feels weird, you know? And do I want to use a photo of me with the girls?”

“Hon, who cares if Satoru took the photo? It’s still a good photo, and to answer your second question, why wouldn’t you include a picture with your girls?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’m just afraid no one will be interested. Nothing about a picture of a mom with her two daughters exactly screams ‘fuck me’.”

Shoko lets out a small chuckle but you’re being serious. “Oh, sweetie. You’re so cute. Milfs are in these days, I don’t think I’m the one getting old, I think it’s just you!”

“Ha-ha, laugh at the mom,” you feign annoyance, but give her a laugh in return.

“But seriously, please use that photo. Nobody’s going to skip you just because you’re a mom. A lot of men on there have kids of their own, just gotta tweak your settings,” Shoko reassures you.

By the end of your call, the profile is set. You thank your old friend for the previous heart-to-heart conversation, and the time she spent helping you set up your profile.

“Keep me updated, and don’t talk about mom stuff, okay? Now, I’m not saying you can’t talk about them,” she begins, “but show these guys your personality! I know she’s in the closet somewhere hiding next to our old slutty clubbing clothes.”

Then, the both of you say your goodbyes and she wishes you a good-luck on your newly established dating journey. As you lay in your bed, you give your profile a final onceover. Not too bad, you think to yourself.

You ended up using all of the photos she had originally picked out for you. Even the beach photo. To compensate for your old photos, though, Shoko made sure that your prompts were witty and full of personality.

“I’d match me, I think. No, yeah, these are funny. She did a good job.”

The following day, you open your phone to fifty notifications from the dating app. A tingle of excitement shoots through your body from the tip of your toes, to the top of your head. It takes all of your might not to squeal in the office.

“Holy fuck,” you whisper at your desk. The amount of notifications that you initially saw on your homescreen read ‘50’ but when you opened the app, it showed you an overwhelming ‘100’ with a fat plus sign next to it. “Wait, are these all the people who liked me? Shoko’s gonna flip.”

Getting up from your chair, you make a beeline to the nearest bathroom. Not that you have to use it, but so you can scroll through all the potential prospects without your boss seeing you on your phone.

Pulling open the door to the bathroom, you close it shut behind you and lock it. A few minutes pass in the time you’re able to get through about half of the people who liked you. You end up skipping a lot of them. They’re either too young, too self-absorbed, creepy, or just downright not your type.

Some stick out, though. Even trick you into thinking they’re potential matches, but then the other shoe drops–because there’s always another shoe. You’ll scroll through their profiles, and they’ll seemingly have all the perfect traits: intelligent, witty, handsome, tall–and then, boom. You see their ‘don’t want kids’ preference. Every failed match only discourages you more and more.

It’s weird, because your profile preferences are set to ‘have kids’ and you even have a photo pictured with your girls. So why are men liking your profile despite that? After a few more scrolls, you’re just about ready to head back to your desk but then–you have a hit.

Your finger hovers over the ‘x’ at the bottom of the screen, then retracts. The guy’s profile at first impression is miles better than the rest, it’s almost too good to be true. His first photo is what piqued your interest. It’s of him posing for a silly photo with his sons, and he’s got his arms draped around their shoulders.

As you scroll down his profile, you see that there’s even more of him with his children. You take this as a green flag. He wants people to know he has kids, and that he isn’t embarrassed to show them off. You admire him for it.

The last few remaining photos are an amalgamation of selfies and full-body photos. To the average, well-adjusted adult, looks wouldn’t be a deal breaker. But he definitely wasn’t too bad on the eyes, and you were not complaining about that–especially, after the odd men you had to scroll through to get here. In other words, he was gorgeous and still fit despite being older than you (him, respectively being in his early forties).

Checking the time on your phone, you realize that you’re pushing your little ‘bathroom break’. Before heading back to your desk, you decide to respond to his first photo.

You: Cute! Could never get my girls to stand so still for a photo like this now haha :)

Work goes by slower than you’d like, but finishes up just in time when you get a notification from the dating app. You’re a little more excited than you’d care to admit. Tidying up your workspace, you say your goodbyes to your colleagues and head to the elevator. Absent-mindedly, you rush to answer his message but realize it won’t go through because of the elevator’s poor service.

Kazuki: Oh, they’re moody and grown now, don’t be fooled. I can't remember the last time I saw my youngest smile.

You don’t answer his reply until you get home. Actually, you do just about everything but answer his reply: check on the girls, shower, prepare dinner, pour a glass of wine–you’re nervous, and you don’t know why. But you know you should probably answer soon before he becomes disinterested. So you get comfortable in bed with your glass of wine and pull open his chat.

You: Lol, know that all too well. Kids are little assholes, aren’t they?

The speed in which he reads your text is startling, you don’t even have enough time to close out of the chat. Then, he responds.

Kazuki: Hell yeah they are!

Kazuki: Sometimes I want to strangle my youngest. He’s at that age where he’s starting to rebel and question everything. I told him he was supposed to be the ‘easy’ one, but his knucklehead brothers are bad influences on him…Tell me, does it ever get easier?

You: Sounds a lot like my oldest. She used to cling to me like a koala but now she’s the ring leader, and I’m the enemy. My youngest still loves her mama, though (for now lol).

You: And to answer your question, I’d like to think so?

You take a second before continuing your response. Shoko told you to keep the mom talk limited, but this seems to be working for you so far, and he’s genuinely interested in what you have to say. So for once, you’re going to ignore her advice.

You: Kids go through phases. It's our job to reassure them that we’re not going anywhere. No matter how much they push us away or try to, that is :)

Kazuki’s chat bubbles pop up, then disappear. You think he’s deciding on what to say.

Kazuki: I can tell we’re gonna get along great. It’s nice opening up like this, you know? Talking to another parent. If I'm being honest, dating apps have always intimidated me…

Kazuki: People see kids as ‘baggage’, and it really bothers me. My kids aren’t baggage. They’re the best parts of me. And if someone doesn’t see that, then we have no business getting to know each other.

Kazuki: Sorry for getting all sappy. Just felt like I needed to say it.

His apology makes you frown. It feels like a breath of fresh air to hear someone talk about their kids so lovingly, because you feel the exact same way. You’re glad you downloaded the app, and you make a mental note to thank Shoko again later (after you debrief her about this).

You: Never apologize for speaking about your kids! And if we’re being absolutely transparent, that was my biggest gripe with downloading this app, too.

You: I’m so glad we matched each other. I’d like to get to know you more. And I’m hoping the feeling’s mutual?

Kazuki: It’s more than mutual.

Kazuki: Don’t want to get ahead of myself but how do you feel about dinner? There’s a cool high-scale restaurant in the city that I haven’t been to yet. Heard it’s got two Michelin stars despite opening up not too long ago.

The prospect of going on a sit-down dinner date has your stomach in knots. It’s been a hot minute since the last time you’ve done so, but you’re eager to know the man behind the screen on a more personal level. Plus, being treated to a high-scale restaurant with two Michelin stars doesn’t seem too bad either. You’re never one to turn down free dinner.

You: I’d love to, but how soon we talkin’? Gotta see if it’ll align with my schedule.

Kazuki: How’s this Friday at 8 sound? :)

The days leading up to Friday breeze by in a blur. For the majority of the week, it feels like you’re walking on cloud nine. Eventually, the conversation transitions from the dating app to exchanging phone numbers, and since then, the two of you have been texting back-and-forth everyday.

You talk about mundane things. Work, shows, movies, books you’ve recently read, what your kids are up to–but the other things? The other messages are flirty, and sexy, and filled with so much tension that it could cut a rope in half.

In between messages, the two of you have also exchanged a few photos. Nothing risqué or anything of that nature, just random photos of you throughout the day. The last one he sent was a few hours ago of him at work, captioned with: ‘Could this meeting be any longer?’.

You reply to the message with the ‘ha ha’ reaction, in consideration of not wanting to get him in trouble at work (even if he was the one who initiated the conversation). As the days go by, though, you make it a habit to update Shoko every step of the way.

Her first reaction to hearing about him was enthusiastic. That is, until you showed her screenshots from his profile. You vaguely remember her saying something that was meant as a compliment, but came out more like an insult.

“‘Oh, he’s a dad!” was her initial response, “oh, he’s a dad…and he really loves his kids. You’re meant for each other.’”

When you tried to ask her what she meant by that, she changed the subject. Every update since then has earned slightly more positive reactions, though.

Today, you ask her for more advice. Only this time, you’re on video call.

“Shokoooo,” you drawl, “our date is tomorrow! You have to help me find something to wear.” The panic in your voice is so palpable, she can almost feel your shaky hands through the screen. Flipping the camera, you hurriedly pan your phone around the closet.

“Breathe, girl, breathe,” she demonstrates first, before telling you to repeat the same motions. “Take me to that section over there–no, not that one–wait, yep, there.” You amble over to the area she’s directing you to through the phone.

“What’s that black little number right there?” She points. You prop the phone up on a shelf and scour through the section, tugging out a dress you haven’t seen in ages (which has you questioning how she even spotted it because it was pretty far back into the closet). Walking back into frame, you hold the fabric up to your body.

Shoko nods in approval, “That’s the one, babe. Try it on!”

It’d been about a decade since the last time you wore this dress. It’d also been about a decade since you were ever this small. Looking in the mirror, you run your hands over every surface inch, every crevice of the dress, in a newfound sense of appreciation for the adult weight you’ve gained since becoming a mother.

The dress was always stunning but it hugged everything perfectly even more so now. When you walk back into frame, your friend gives you a look of pure adoration. She’s so enthralled that she snaps a few screenshots for keepsaking.

“Thank god it’s Satoru’s turn to get the kids tonight,” she says, “‘cause you’re definitely getting some tonight.”

You roll your eyes, reminding her she’s on speaker phone. “Oh, please. It’s just dinner!”

“Not in that dress,” she retorts, wagging her finger in the camera. While the two of you continue to chat about the details of tonight, a knock on your bedroom door draws your attention.

“Mom, can I come in?” the voice sounds. It’s Haruki.

“Come in, hon!”

After you give the ok, you turn to Shoko and mouth to her to behave. Haruki turns the knob and enters, closing the door behind her. She sees you standing in front of the mirror before you see her, and silently utters a ‘wow’. You’re just about done putting your earrings in when you join her in the other room.

“What do you think, bun? Does your mom look hot?” you spin around, smoothing your hands down the length of the dress. You wait in anticipation for her approval, because if anyone could tell it like it is, it was always going to be a kid. Your Haruki was no exception.

“You look really pretty, Mom. I’m glad you’re going out tonight, I mean, you don’t really have friends so I think this will be good for you,” she elaborates, though you wish she would’ve stopped at the compliment.

Still, it puts a smile on your face to hear her verbalize that she’s okay with you doing something for yourself. You never quite discussed the prospect of getting back out there with your kids–and not even intentionally. It just never felt like the right time.

“You could’ve stopped at the compliment, punk!” you grab her, then wrap her in your arms, “but thank you. Love you, bun.”

“Love you more, mama.” Neither of you make the effort to pull away. Instead, you both stand there. Hugging, breathing, embracing each other’s warmth. You don’t always get hugs this good, so when you do, you savor it. Drag it out until your arms and legs get all tingly.

Or until someone interrupts. Another knock on the door. This time it’s Hana.

“Ew, what’s going on?” Hana feigns a look of disgust. You know she’s just jealous; she’ll never admit it, though. Which is why sometimes you have to force her to participate.

“Get over here,” you scrunch your nose, forcefully pulling her into your tight embrace. She tries to protest but eventually accepts defeat. You squeeze them both until they whine that they can’t breathe anymore. Then you squeeze them some more because this one’s for you.

“My special girls,” you breathe in, taking in all of their love. Soaking it all up so that tonight you have the courage to try again. To allow yourself a love of your own. When you let go, there’s a sniffle from the closet. It totally dawned on you that Shoko was still on the phone.

“They’re so big now, they don’t even know their auntie,” she fakes a sob, blowing her nose into a tissue.

“Mom, who’s on the phone?” Haruki queries with a confused expression etched onto her face. It suddenly dawns on you again that although you’ve been communicating with Shoko again, you haven’t exactly told them.

“Hey, you came in here to tell me something right, Han?” Your attempt to change the subject is poorly done, which doesn’t come as a surprise to you considering deflection has never quite been an ability you excelled at. Nonetheless, the look of suspicion they give you after is fleeting before they explain to you in unison that their father is here.

“Your father’s been waiting down there this whole time and nobody cared to tell me?” you whisper-yell, left eye twitching to emphasize your ill-preparedness. The girls only shrug their shoulders in response, like this was something you were just supposed to know.

“Well, you did force us into a hug and make us do all that Kumbaya stuff,” Hana mumbles under her breath.

“Okay, enough about all that. Are you guys all packed? Where are your bags? I don’t want your dad seeing–”

“You don’t want dad to see your date, right?” Hana raises a brow, all knowing. Sometimes she was a little too smart for her own good. You want to blame that on the private schools Satoru had them enrolled in, but really you just know she’s just a menace in her own right. She learned that from him.

“I agree with the kid,” a voice chimes in. You rush to the closet and grab your phone from the shelf. There’s a huge, shit-eating grin on Shoko’s face. Somehow she’s responsible for this. You don’t know how yet, nor do you have proof, but you know it.

“Okay, thank you, love you, bye!” Before you can hang up, Shoko blurts something.

“Tell him I said hi,” she begins, “–andnottogetahardonwhenheseesyou!”

You hang up the call and roll your eyes, chuckling to yourself because of her idiocy. When you enter the corridor, you hear a faint sound of hushed voices from downstairs. It’s only when you round the bannister at the top, when those voices become discernible and louder.

You stop at the top, and when your eyes meet his, it feels like all the air in your lungs have expelled. Suddenly, you’re hyper-aware of what you’re wearing, and the fabric, and the way it clings to your body. Neither he, nor you, look away–you should, you want to, but you don’t.

And in the time the two of you gaze upon the other, time stops for a modicum of a second. In this second, you and him are the last two souls in the world. At least, that’s how it feels anyway before he breaks eye contact.

You shift your gaze shortly after, and put on a trained smile. Those eyes of his were always so intense. You guess you forgot over the years how easy it was to lose yourself in the crystalline pools of them. Gathering your wits, you resume your movements and saunter down the imperial staircase.

“Hey, didn’t mean to keep you waiting. Sort of lost track of time, but I think the girls are all packed,” you say, your voice coming to a decrescendo upon noticing the way his eyes trail over your frame. They’re unreadable, though. Indifferent, and honestly, you’re not sure how to feel. So, you begin fidgeting uncomfortably with the rings around your finger.

Then, he smiles. It’s eerie and fake. “Not a problem, I haven’t been here too long. But, uh,” he begins ambling around the place, touching random objects around the living room, “Didn’t know you had plans. What’s the occasion? Going out for drinks with your colleagues?”

You furrow your brows, confused with his sudden interests in your plans. It wasn’t really like him to prod. “No, actually,” you rock back-and-forth on the balls of your heels, “i’m…i’m going on a date,” you finish with a pursed smile. He only nods his head in response, still walking around the place touching stuff, messing with the picture frames on the mantle. They’re all crooked now.

“How come this is the only picture you have up of me,” he asks suddenly. You know, that he knows, the answer to that. And he knows, that you know, you’ll indulge in his games anyway.

“The girls wanted them in their rooms. Why do you ask? You want me to go grab them and put ‘em all up around the house?” Again, he doesn’t say anything. Just gives you a final once over before heading back to the foyer to ask if the girls are all set to go.

“Yeah, but I can’t find my tablet, dad. Can I go look for it?” Haruki speaks up. “I thought I packed it.”

Satoru looks at the time on his watch, pinches the crease in between his brows. “Sure, kiddo. Can we make it quick, please?” He throws his hand in the air for emphasis, then points to his watch. Haruki nods, then runs up the stairs.

“Actually, you go on up too and help your sister. You guys are holding up dad,” you turn to Hana and gesture for her to head up with your head. She rolls her eyes, yelling up the stairs for her younger sister to ‘freaking hurry up’.

You and Satoru both turn to each other with wide eyes, laughing at the nerve of those children.

“They get that attitude from you, you know,” you point to him, driving your index finger into his bicep.

“You sure? Their mom’s got a pretty bad mouth on her, too. Or, have you forgotten?” He teases, bending his knees slightly to level his eyes with yours, intruding into your space. The smirk he dons is cheeky, too friendly–too inviting. You want to smack it off of him.

“Oh, shut u–” the sound of your phone chiming interrupts your banter. It’s a message from Kazuki, and you open it while Satoru stands over you. Probably close enough to read the message on his own if he wanted.

Kazuki: Hey, I hate to do this but I don’t think I can go through with tonight.

When you read the message, your heart drops into your stomach. There goes the other shoe, you think, fully embracing your pessimism. Who were you kidding, really? To think that tonight you’d go out and have a good time. Do something for yourself. It was stupidity.

Chat bubbles pop up on the screen. He has more to say.

He has more to say, and you’re fighting the urge to cry–to not shake out of sheer frustration while you’re still standing in front of Satoru. Because nothing would be worse than him seeing you can’t even land a date.

Kazuki: I recently just went through a divorce, and I know that I should have informed you about this before continuing our conversations…Especially since you’ve been so transparent with me about your own divorce and strife.

Kazuki: But if I’m being completely honest, I was scared. I genuinely wanted to see this through, at first. I wanted to forget about my ex-wife for just one night. But I realized I’ve been asking the impossible of myself…I’m still in love with her, and it’s because I’m in love with her that I won’t allow myself to lead you on any further.

Kazuki: I think we would’ve had a good time tonight. It's unfortunate we had to meet under such circumstances because you’re a really lovely woman, and I’m sorry an asshole is standing you up right now.

Kazuki: Take care. I know there’s a guy out there just waiting for his shot.

Satoru takes notice of the way your face drops as you read over the messages. Part of him wants to overstep his boundaries and take a peek at the screen. But he doesn’t. He gives you your space and takes a seat on the couch, waits for you to say something first.

In the meantime, he studies your face. Watches intently as your eyes become glossy the more you scan the messages, watches as your bottom lip catches between your teeth to hold back from crying. He thinks he knows what just happened.

Taking a deep breath, you lock your phone and put on another trained smile, “Well, looks like I’m staying in tonight.” Satoru dislikes when you do that. When you put on a fake smile and overcompensate to make others around you feel better, even when it’s so very obvious you aren’t. He wishes that sometimes you would just be selfish–act out.

And then you continue the façade. It makes his skin itch.

“I was too tired anyway, guess I can just catch up o–”

“Will you stop,” he spits, rising from his seat on the couch to stand. It comes out harsher than he intended, but he doesn’t regret it. You look at him like he’s got two heads as he walks over to the mantle and leans against it. His back is turned towards you, and the palms of his hands hold the crest of it. He uses it as leverage to rock on the heels of his feet. You can tell there’s something he wants to say because of the way his jaw ticks.

Satoru is never one to bite his tongue, so you’re not exactly sure why he’s choosing to be so restrained. If he wasn’t going to spit it out, you were going to poke. “What’s your problem?”

He chuckles at this, rubs his chin then pushes off the mantle to stand in front of you, gets all in your space again. The movement almost sends you back but you hold your ground, tilt your chin up at him and repeat the question. Slowly, this time with more venom.

“My problem? What’s your problem?” He breathes through his nose, his eyes flickering back-and-forth between your own. “Why do you always pretend like you’re not lonely? It’s okay if you were looking forward to having fun tonight. It’s okay to be upset and be mad at the asshole who stood you up!”

With every verbal prod at you, the gap between you decreases. His feet inch closer and closer to your own and force you to retreat farther until your back hits the wall. The coldness of it causes your breath to hitch, and you try to stay calm as Satoru encroaches more into your personal space. Being on the receiving end of his passion was always suffocating, you feel exposed under the intensity of his gaze–even more so as he continues to tear into you.

“Why do you even care?!” you cut him off, eyes wide and veins pumping full of adrenaline. “It’s not your place to be so invested in my life anymore! We’re not together, you don’t have to get so hot and bothered about things going shitty for me. I’m a big girl, and I’m perfectly capable of fighting my own battles.”

By the time you finish, you’re a heaving, shaking mess. He takes this as a sign to withdraw from your space, and goes to sit back down on the couch. When you finally settle your nerves, you join him, leaving a foot of space in between you. There’s an awkward silence, one that wouldn’t have even happened if he just respected your boundaries in the first place. Now he feels like the asshole instead of the actual asshole who dumped you. Taking a hesitant breath, he decides to speak up.

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t…It wasn’t my intention to come off so strong like that,” he begins, “I just wanted to let you know that you don’t always have to pretend to be fine. It’s not fair, you shouldn’t do that to yourself.” His eyes wander over to you reluctantly, like he’s scared that if he looks too long you’ll disengage from the conversation.

“It’s okay,” your voice is small, just above a whisper. You want to face him, but you know that if you do, you'll break into a million pieces. So you keep your gaze downward, busy yourself with the stray pieces of thread on the bottom of your dress. “You’re right, you know. I think I just…I think I just tell myself to expect disappointment so that when something bad happens, I’ll know it’s not because I got my hopes up.”

Satoru turns to you, and you can see him frown through your peripheral. Still, you don’t face him because you’re not done talking. But you thank him silently for listening without interrupting.

“Even though you’re right, I don’t appreciate the way you came on so strongly. We’re not married anymore, we’re not a couple–we’re co-parents. So if there’s something I want you to know about that’s outside of the scope of our kids, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, leave it alone.”

Satoru’s face softens. For once you’re being selfish, putting your foot down. This is the side of you he likes. “Okay. I respect that,” he says, “But can I ask you something?” The smile on his face is mirthful, like he’s got something else up his sleeves this evening. Skeptical, you finally face him with a raised brow.

“What?”

“Let me take you to dinner.”

You laugh in his face, even go as far as smacking his arm because you want him to know you found the joke really funny. He doesn’t budge, and that’s when you realize he’s being serious.

“Wait, what?”

“Let’s go to dinner,” he stands up, crossing his arms across his chest. You tilt your head in disbelief. You’re just waiting for someone to tell you you’re on that old reality show punk’d.

“Funny, I just poured my heart out to you and now you’re making fun of me,” you roll your eyes, feigning annoyance.

“I’m being serious,” he reassures, “you’re already dressed up. It’d be a shame for it to go to waste.” His eyes are twinkling with hope, and once again, you find yourself falling victim to their persuasiveness.

Being under Gojo Satoru’s gaze was suffocating.

Giving in, you ask, “So what are you gonna do? Drive all the way home to get dressed?”

The question is genuine, but the bastard just grins. “I’m a little hurt,” he throws a hand over his heart, “don’t you know me by now? I’m a businessman. I keep pressed blazers and slacks on me at all times.”

He swings his keys around his index finger, hoping that the promise of a spare change of clothes being in his car is enough to convince you to say yes.

“I don’t know…” you trail.

“C’mon, let me take you out. I promise you won’t regret it.”

Somehow he was able to persuade you into going out. After he changed into his spare clothes, you ended up telling your girls that there was gonna be a change of plans, and that they’d go home with their dad tomorrow.

Of course, before leaving, you made sure to leave some money on the table for pizza, and you also made sure to drill into their heads not to open the door for anyone except the delivery guy. You knew they knew the drill already, but it didn’t feel right to leave without saying it anyway.

“Be good, listen to your sister, she’s in charge,” you pinch Haruki’s cheek. Hana smirks, nodding her head in agreement with you.

“I will mom, I know,” she huffs, crossing her arms.

“And you,” your finger wags at Hana, her smirk drops. “Don’t provoke your sister, be nice. Act like you love each other, please.”

“Fine, whatever. I guess,” she grabs the knob to the door, ready to kick the both of you out already. “So does this mean the two of you are back together, or?”

Satoru and you turn to each other before answering in unison, “No.”

“Okay, cool. Well, have fun,” she practically closes the door on the two of you, locking it after. Satoru is just as dumbfounded as you are, but then you break into a fit of laughter.

“Those kids, man.”

“Your kids!” you correct, pushing him playfully as the both of you walk down the pebbled pathway. He finds his equilibrium in time to unlock the car and open your side of the door. You pause before ducking inside.

“Oh, how gentlemanly of you,” you jest, “And they say chivalry is dead.”

“How could it be when I’m alive?” He says matter-of-factly, closing your side of the door. He taps the top of the car before sliding across the hood to the other side. Nice to see some things never changed.

When he gets inside and turns on the car, he puts his hand on the back of your seat to back out. The proximity sends a shiver down your spine, and you have to physically refrain from letting your eyes linger on his jaw, and his arms, and the face he makes when he’s trying to concentrate.

You try to dispel these less-than-friendly thoughts by looking somewhere, anywhere else but him. But you can’t, and it’s irritating.

This is the second time tonight you’ve been this close, and it’s only this time that you realize something about him is…different. Earlier, he didn’t really smell like anything, but you quickly notice his smell has changed.

There’s a sort of piney scent coming from him. It’s not strong or obnoxious enough to blind your nostrils, but it’s enough for you to just barely pick up on it. You almost think it was premeditated, that he took the liberty of spritzing some on before walking you to the car. Before you separated, he’d made it a habit to wear variations of woody scents for you. If you can recall correctly, a passing comment you made about the cologne he was wearing that day is what sparked the habit.

Surely, this couldn’t be coincidental?

“You smell nice,” you blurt, filling in the silence.

Satoru glances at you, “Thank you.” You hate that from the corner of your eye, you can see his stupid little smirk growing bigger by the minute. He already had a big ego, it didn’t need to be stroked any more.

“Don’t let it go to your head, though. You usually smell pretty rank.”

“Ohhh, is that so? Guess I gotta start wearing this more often then, huh?”

“Sure, do what you want,” you say, trying to remain indifferent even though you’re failing terribly to hide your smile. When the car approaches a red light, you finally decide to ask the big question. “So where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see,” he glances over, “Just know I’m good friends with the owner, so last minute reservations weren't a problem.”

The rest of the car ride is silent, save for the low hum of the music playing on the radio. When you arrive at the location, Satoru makes sure to walk all the way around to your side of the door again and open it. Immediately after, the two of you are greeted by a young male. He’s wearing a white button down, black slacks, and a black vest with a red tie. Judging by his appearance, you assume he’s a valet driver.

Satoru drops his keys in the driver’s hands, and escorts you towards the entrance. The boy bows and goes to park the car. Looking around, you start to wonder where exactly this place is supposed to be. The area is dark and secluded, and from where you stand outside, it doesn’t sound like there’s supposed to be a restaurant here. You don’t hear any voices, you don’t even see any security or other passerbyers.

Still, you follow behind him like a duckling, only coming to a halt when he leads you to a door taller than the both of you. He gestures for you to back up, then raises his knuckles to blow a strong, single knock. You’re taken by surprise when a set of angry eyes appear behind a slot in the door.

The pair of eyes first scan over you, then Satoru. A gruff voice is second to accompany them, “Where can I get a good drink?”

“I heard the bar down the street is nice,” Satoru answers. The hatch to the door closes, then swings open the door, and the man behind it moves aside to welcome you in.

“Follow me, please.” Once he closes the door, he begins guiding you down the dimly lit hallway. After making what seems like your hundredth turn, you eventually reach a staircase. The man gestures for you to go on ahead, and you think this is him implying where the three of you will depart.

“Thank you,” you say softly, disappearing down the stairs. Satoru isn’t too far behind, keeping a pace between you. As you near the end of the long, narrow hallway, a stream of white light brightens up your whole path. It leads you down to another door like a beacon of light, and when you reach it, you can hear voices, live music, and dishes clanking on the other side. It’s bustling with life. A huge, joyous smile plasters across your face. It’s almost child-like in appearance, like you haven’t seen something this cool in a long time.

Satoru stands beside you and winks. “What d’ya think? Any idea yet where we are?”

“I think this is fucking cool, and hm,” you take a second to mull it over, “are we at a speakeasy?”

“Smart girl. Now come on.” Stepping back, you allow him to pull open the door, and when he does, there isn’t a word to describe the atmosphere of the place you step into. All you can do is stand there in astonishment. Before long, a man walks up to you.

“Welcome, what is the name you reserved under?”

“Gojo.”

Nodding, the host instructs you to follow after him. He leads you to a private seating area, somewhere far in the back that’s secluded from the other patrons. The space is much bigger, and much more extravagant. You know you’re only sitting way back here because Satoru is who he is. And in all the years you’ve known him, his connections were just another party trick in his arsenal.

The hostess seats you, then Satoru, and tells you that a waiter will be with you shortly.

“This is nice, really nice, but is it–”

“Legal?” he finishes your sentence, “don’t worry. It’s a modern speakeasy-style restaurant. There’s nothing illegal going on here, promise.”

While you wait for your designated waiter, your focus shifts from the man in front of you to the man singing on the stage. Up until now, his voice was white noise in the background, but then he started singing a tune scarily reminiscent of your past–and your breath catches in your throat.

If I ever leave you, baby

You can say I told you so

And if I ever hurt you

You know, I hurt myself…

Turning your gaze back to Satoru, you squint your eyes mirthfully in disbelief. You wonder if this is just a funny coincidence, if this is the universe playing her tricks, but you know deep down, that coincidences and Gojo Satoru don’t belong in the same sentence.

You open your mouth to speak, but quickly close it when you see the waiter approaching from the corner of your eye. He greets the both of you with a polite smile, then sets down two glasses of water.

“Good evening, I’ll be your waiter for the night,” he says, placing a menu in front of you, “Can I get you fine folks started off with a bottle of wine?”

Satoru nods, tells him to bring the best bottle of red they have and then gestures for him to come closer so that he can whisper something in his ear. All the while, you sit back in your seat observing, clicking your nails on the table until the server pulls back and bows.

When he departs, you immediately lean in over the table, and ask, “Just how much time did you have to plan all of this?”

Satoru feigns aloofness, taking a sip of his water, “What do you mean?”

You roll your eyes, gesturing at the stage with your eyes. Then, as if suddenly coming to a realization, he goes, “Oh, that? Yeah, I had nothing to do with that. But isn’t it funny they’re playing our old song?”

Now he’s smirking, with his elbow leaning back on the chair, and a gaze so piercing, you’re certain you’ll crumble into nothing unless you look away. So you do, avert your gaze back to the stage and sway calmly.

Is that any way for a man to carry on

Do you think I want my loved one gone

Said I love you

More than you’ll ever know

“So funny,” you counter.

Eventually, the server comes back with a bottle. “1982 Chateau Latife Rothschild,” he holds it out to present, “Is this alright?”

Despite the years spent with Satoru, and the many elitist events you often attended with him, your knowledge on wine had never surpassed anything but surface level. You knew the difference between good wine and cheap wine was the taste, but your taste buds had grown accustomed to store-bought, so if anything, store-bought tasted like heaven to you. Anyway, though, you nod your head and urge him to pour a glass.

“Thank you,” you smile, before gently swirling the glass and bringing it up to your nose to smell (something you only know to do after being the odd man out at so many company banquets). Satoru waits for you to sip your glass before he sips his. The way you melt into your seat is a silent assurance that you’re pleased.

“This is great, you’re amazing,” you tell the server, who seems pleased by your compliment.

“Glad to be of service, miss. Are you ready to order?”

Dinner goes by smoothly. In fact, it goes by so smoothly, you and Satoru finish the entire bottle of wine. Now you sit at the table, bellies full, faces flushed and sore from laughing, and now you find yourself telling him about the grocery store incident. If you had half a mind (a sober one), you’d shut up right this second to save yourself from the embarrassment. But you don’t. And Satoru’s very persuasive when you’re tipsy.

“Keep going,” he leans in, hand nestled under his chin. He’s completely invested in the story. Actually, as soon as he heard the words ‘store’ and ‘cute guy’, he just had to know more. And you begging him to change the subject didn’t help, not when the sadist in him loved to see you so embarrassed.

“Fine,” you hiccup, “It was so - so bad, Toru.” He doesn’t miss the way you slip and call him by the nickname you’d always reserved for him. It makes his heart race, and god, does he miss the way it sounds spilling from your lips. But he ignores the feeling, and refocuses on your story instead. Which, by the way, was proving to be a task in itself because his eyes couldn’t stop drifting back down to your lips. So soft, so–

“And then she said ‘we don’t believe in rings,’” you whisper, fist coming down on the table. The sound it makes nearly sobers you up, and you realize just how loud you’re being despite your table being secluded from others. Giggling like a kid, you continue, “I mean, how fucking insane is that?!”

“Something as bizarre as that could only ever happen to you,” he replies, laughing along with you, “those people were crazy.”

“The craziest,” you agree, throwing your head back in another fit of laughter. Gradually, the two of you begin to settle down, and once again, you find your attention being drawn back to the man on the stage. Only this time, he’s making an announcement.

“Good evening ladies and gentleman. Tonight I’ve got a special request,” he says, looking out into the audience. Looking at you. “This one’s for a very special lady who, from what I’ve been told, is a great mother that needs to start doing things for herself.”

The singer steps out of the spotlight and hands the note to a server. Your server. Then he begins to sing, and your heart drops into the pit of your stomach. It was your wedding song.

[...] I don’t even know how to love you

Just the way you want me to

But I’m ready (ready) to learn (to learn)

Yes, I’m ready (ready) to learn (to learn)

“Now this one? This one was me,” Satoru leans forward, and you swiftly turn your head to face him. He smiles as he watches your face go through ten different emotions before ultimately softening. It warms your heart to see how incredibly planned this evening was, despite the amount of time he was given to work with. Even so, it kind of scares you–because then that meant this was a grand gesture–that this was his way of saying something. And you weren’t too sure if you wanted to hear it. Your gaze drops to your lap, and Satoru frowns.

To fall in love

To fall in love with you…

“Look at me,” he says softly, but you don’t. “Hey, look at me.” He reaches over the table to take your chin in between his fingers. The touch alone feels electric. Sends liquid hot lightning down the column of your spine. Reluctantly, you meet his gaze, and like always, it’s suffocating. They’re so wide with hope, and so, so gentle in the way they hold you. The longer you gaze upon them, the more you convince yourself it’ll be okay if you surrender to them.

“It’s been years since we’ve divorced,” his voice is shaky, almost strained, like he’s actively thinking how to choose his words carefully, “and when we sat down that night, I thought it was what I wanted, too, you know? And for a while, it was,” he reaches a hand across the table to rest atop your own, “but you gotta know…you gotta know–you’re it for me. There’s no one else on this Earth that I want to start over with. You’ve always been the beginning and end of my story, and I’ll be damned if I let another man start one with you.”

Your heart is beating faster than you can even process what he’s saying. The only thing you’re focused on is not passing out in the middle of this damn restaurant. But then he’s squeezing your hand, and your focus is drawn back to those piercing, pale blues that even put crystals to shame.

“So what do you say?” he says, so softly, so tender. “Can we try again?”

Waiting for your reply, he squeezes your hand again. It’s like your soul is wandering the line between death and the living, and his touch is the tether that brings you back. In the background, the tune of the song sung at your wedding gives you a push of courage.

I don’t even know how to kiss your lips (kiss your lips)

At a moment like this

But I’m going to learn how to do

All the things you want me to

Yes, I’m ready

(Are you ready?) Yes, I’m ready

To fall in love

To fall in love right now

“Yes.”

The walk back to the car is hurried. Aided by both, years and years of built up tension, and the liquid courage currently bubbling in your systems.

The race back to his apartment is even faster. You thank the gods silently that it’s within close proximity to where you just were.

Once you get there, make your way past the doorman and concierge (who both give the two of you a knowing look), go up the elevator, and finally get into his loft–it’s over. Years of restraint, years of pretending, wanting–yearning, come crashing down.

There’s barely any time to close the door before he’s pushing you against it. His lips trail down the column of your neck, then come up to kiss your jaw, until eventually, they find your lips. And when they do, it’s instantaneous–that familiar feeling, the feeling that feels almost like falling.

Once again, for what felt like centuries, you feel again the rush of helplessness. The push and pull of the tide. It brings you down, down, down to the bottom of the ocean floor, and it’s unmerciful.

Kissing Satoru is like being shocked with ten thousand volts of energy. Like all this time you’ve spent not kissing him, has been costing you your life, and he’s the only one who can deliver you salvation. It’s all teeth and tongue for a minute. Messy, and sticky, and nasty. A true testament to the desperation brewing in the pits of both your stomachs.

The sensation of it all has your knees going slack, and that’s when he says–

“Jump.”

Obeying, you do just that. Jump right into his arms, and wrap your legs around his torso like you’ve done so many times before. The way you feel now is the way you used to feel before then, too. Like you were made to fit like this. To be held in his arms like you were molded from the same clay.

Carefully, he adjusts his grip on your body. Keeps his palms planted on the bottoms of your ass, and begins the trek to his room. He struggles a bit getting there because you haven’t stopped kissing since entering the apartment, but he figures it out after a stumble or two (which resulted in a bitten lip and you apologizing profusely through giggles).

“The turbulence up here is crazy, don’t blame me, blame the pilot,” you jest, kissing down his neck to make up for it.

“I’ll make sure to let him know,” he jokes back. As soon as he gets to the bed, he sets you down at the edge of the bed. You try to bring him down to your height but he stops you, wags his finger in your face playfully before using it to push you back into the bed. His fingers start to play with the fabric of your dress, and then his face takes on an indifferent expression. The same one from earlier that night when he first saw you walking down the stairs.

“Can’t believe you were gonna wear this for him…” he trails, lifting the fabric up slowly, eyeing you while doing so, “as if this dress doesn’t mean something.”

Of course, when Shoko chose it, its significance did make you falter–but in your defense, not once did you ever anticipate for him to see you in it. And you especially didn’t expect for him to remember it, the last time you wore it was almost a decade ago.

“I didn’t…” you start, a smile creeping on your lips, “think you remembered?”

“‘Course I did, how could I not?” He says more sharply than intended, taking offense. He takes offense because he spent the better half of the night showing you he remembered. The little things and everything else in between. Couldn’t you see that?

“It was our 4th anniversary. Bought you this dress and fucked you in it that same night. Funny how the second time I’m seeing you in this dress, the circumstances are the same except only this time we’re divorced,” he says, crawling over your body. “Guess I gotta show you just how much I remember.”

With that, he slips a hand under your dress, pulls your panties to the side and runs a finger down your slit. Oh-so-willingly, do you spread your legs for him. It’s almost subconscious, the way your body responds to him. And he revels in it. Lets his fingers work you, feel you, bring you to ecstasy. Then he heightens your pleasure tenfold when he kisses his way down your body, and takes a seat before you on his knees.

Unceremoniously, he pulls your body to the edge of the bed. Takes his time slipping your panties down the length of your legs, then kisses the insides of your thighs, before finally stopping at your mound.

Slowly, he lowers himself to your cunt, kisses your clit softly. Once, twice, three times. The pace in which he’s moving is killing you, to say the least. But you know he’s savoring the moment, making up for all the years he spent not kneeling like this between your legs. So you let him; let him caress you all over before he comes seeking the honey-sweet salvation dripping from your core.

The second his tongue makes contact with your heat, you find yourself clamping a heavy hand over your mouth. “Fuck, Toruuuu,” you drawl, back arching off the bed. Pleased with his abilities, he smiles smugly, using this as an opportunity to push himself even deeper. Up and down, he licks at your slit, uses his fingers in tandem with his tongue to prod at that spongy spot he knows you love.

“Tastes,” a harsh suck, “so good,” another, “better than I remember.”

You know he’s talking, but his words fall on deaf ears. You’re so caught up in your own high, you don’t even take notice of the obscene sloshing sounds coming from your pussy, or the moans you’re making. All you can do is lay there and take it as he takes, and takes, and takes from you.

Soon, you find your orgasm cutting through you like a knife, and you come with a strangled cry that has you biting back tears. Satoru talks you through the whole thing. He lays his head down on your thigh and continues working you with his fingers until you start to shake from the overstimulation.

For a few, you lay and stare at the ceiling. You think you can see the Milky Way–and all the constellations that make it up. It feels like your soul is floating beyond your physical body, and you don’t come back down to Earth until a sharp, stinging sensation brings you back. Did he just?

“Did you just bite me?” you lift your head, peering down to see the evidence. In all its glory, there it was; a red ring smack-dab in the inside of your thigh with teeth imprints. Looking at Satoru, he grins.

“Had to get you back from earlier,” he says, sitting back on his knees. You attempt to kick him with your foot, but he grabs hold of it. Pretending to be wounded, he gasps, “Is this how you treat the man who just gave you a soul-shattering orgasm?”

You roll your eyes, but to your dismay, it only encourages him to continue.

“Fuck, Toru,” he mimics, “oh my god, Toru. You fuck me so goo–”

“Alright, enough!” you manage to kick him this time, laughing as you bring up your hands to cover your face. “Keep carrying on like that and I won’t let you fuck me…” You’re serious in your bite, but he’s smirking. Like he knows you’re full of bullshit.

“Yeah right. You and I both know I make you feel too good.”

Feeling bested, you scoff, though, there’s no real weight behind it. While he begins to remove his shirt, you sit up and replace his hands. He relinquishes control and allows you to unbutton it until the item falls haphazardly to the floor.

He’s so beautiful, you think. Still so chiseled, so perfect after all these years since you’ve last seen him like this. At his most vulnerable. The only difference now is that there are more freckles littered across his skin. Back then, he’d say they were signs of aging, and he’d hate them.

But he’s older now. More mature. So much so that he even winks at you when you trace your fingertips over them.

“They suit you,” you whisper.

“Yeah?”

You nod your head, “mhm.”

Continuing your ministrations, you begin removing his belt. He holds your gaze the entire time it takes for you to unzip his pants and pull them down–and he doesn’t once shy away when you discover the wet spot on the front of his briefs. Slowly, delicately, you remove the soiled item and let it fall down to the floor with the rest of his clothes.

Still looking at him, you take hold of his length and fist him once, twice, experimentally. A dribble of pre oozes from his slit and you bring it to your mouth. All the air in his lungs expel into the air when you lick it off with your tongue, and god, he thinks he could come from that alone.

God, he’s missed you. Missed your touch, your lips–the way you hold him with your eyes like he’s something worth being gentle with. Nothing could ever compare to you, not even his own hand.

As soon as you’re about to take him in your mouth, he stops you. Pushes you back down onto the bed and slots himself between your legs. “No more playing, I’m tired of playing,” he breathes, lowering himself down until half of his weight is on top of you.

Guiding his cock to your entrance, he pushes past your folds with little resistance. The feeling of your cunt squeezing him in has his arms wobbling like jelly, but he musters enough strength somehow to stay up. You, on the other hand, are close to tears.

The more he eases himself in, the more you feel like you’re being stretched open (despite him previously prepping you). If you were being truthful, this wasn’t a complete shock to you. You’ve known that he’s always been big, but something about tonight feels different. Or maybe it’s just been too long since you’ve had something more than just your own fingers.

Even so, you try your best to ignore the burn of the stretch. You throw your arms around his neck and invite him deeper into you, hooking your legs around him so tightly that it renders his limbs useless. For a minute, all you can feel is the weight of him inside of you, and his chest against yours as they rise and fall asynchronously.

“Toru,” your voice is just barely above a whisper, but enough to make the hairs on the nape of his neck stand. “Make love to me.”

Heeding your request, he begins moving. Painfully slow, he unsheathes himself from you until only the head of his cock is inside, then pushes himself all the way back in with force. Again, and again, he repeats this motion. Pulls out, pushes in. Pulls out, pushes in, until he decides to increase his pace and set a steady rhythm.

Every thrust into you is meticulously calculated. Sharp, and forceful, and not once does he disrupt the rhythm. He listens carefully to the sounds you make. Even listens to the way your breath hitches when he hits a spot right. Everything he’s doing is perfect–and it’s to no surprise. Deep down, you know that Satoru knows your body like the back of his hand. He’d know it if you were all old and wrinkly. He’d know it if his soul reincarnated. Hell, he’d know it blind.

“Missed this,” he grunts, burying his head into the interstice of your neck, “missed you,” a kiss to your neck, “missed us.”

The veracity of his words render you speechless. He’s already professed his feelings for you tonight, but it feels even more real now that you’re beneath him. To be loved by Gojo Satoru was a feeling many couldn’t say they had the consolation of knowing. Only a few in his circle could hold that position–but only one person in this world could truly ever know his love to its fullest extent. You.

Satoru continues his mindless rambling, “I love you,” a thrust, “it’s always been you,” another, “was always going to be you.” Leaning back on his heels, he pushes your dress all the way up to reveal your breasts. Now it’s him who sits back and admires this time. As if he were reacquainting himself, he traces the planes and pastures of your chest with an eager hand. He runs it up and over each mound, squeezing and kneading the flesh experimentally.

Then, he dips down and kisses the space between them. Sucks and licks until the skin bruises, and he has evidence to prove tonight actually happened. Eventually, he withdraws from your chest and returns his focus on easing his cock in and out of your cunt.

“So beautiful,” he says, but it’s more to himself than anything. You’re so lost in your own pleasure, he doesn’t even think you can hear him. “Want you to cum on my cock, know you can do it, baby. Know you can,” he grunts, taking your hand and intertwining it with his own. Letting his head fall into your neck, he begins to quicken his pace. Fucks into you with everything he’s got and willing to give.

“Toru,” you finally manage to say, “‘m so close, keep going. Do it - do it inside.”

Do it inside. Do it inside. Do it inside. The thought is tempting, too tempting. It makes his dick twitch inside of you, and he swears if you say it again, he’ll actually do it. But he knows better than to listen to anything you say out of delirium.

“Trust me, sweet girl,” he cradles your face, to which you lean into, “I want to - I want to so fucking badly. But we both know you’d regret it later.”

Whining, your lips form into a pout, and the sight is so cute, he can’t help but to kiss it off of you. Compared to your kiss earlier, this one is much sweeter. Slower. More relaxed. He kisses you with the intent of making you dizzier than you already are, and it’s scary. Even so, you don’t pull away. You allow him to drink you up. Like your lips are the only source of water around, and he’s been quenched for days.

Finally, with a few more thrusts, you reach your climax. The pressure building in the pit of your belly pops like a balloon, and everything goes white. “Toru!” you shriek, arching off the bed and trembling in his grasp.

Using your arch as leverage, he keeps his hands underneath your back and continues to ram into you without abandon. You’re a babbling, wet mess at this point, and your cunt squeezing around him only encourages him more.

“Fuckfuckfuck, ‘m gonna - ‘m gonna,” he curses, balls beginning to tighten. Quickly, he unsheathes himself and fists himself the rest of the way. With an impassioned moan, he climaxes–spurting thick, white, ropes of seed all over your abdomen. Then, falls onto your limp body with a grunt, chest heaving rapidly, and slick with perspiration.

By this time, you’ve settled down enough to form a proper sentence. “That was…”

Satoru huffs, catching his breath. “Yeah.”

Still spent, he continues to lay atop you. And you, having nowhere else to go, let him. The two of you lay comfortably in silence like this for a long time. Just you tracing shapes into his back, and him purring into your neck. Both of you know you should be getting up, but neither of you make an effort to do so. In this moment, time is transcendent. There is no rush to move when time stands still for you.

Soon, that silence is broken.

“I love you,” you say, and there’s no elaboration. Not even a recant. In fact, you say it so nonchalantly, he’s not even sure it was real. You say it like you’ve never been more certain in your life, like it’s the easiest thing you’ve ever had to do.

“Really?” he queries, almost pathetically like the mere idea of you loving him is something unattainable. You look at him like he’s got two heads.

“Yeah, you’re my best friend. I’ve always loved you,” you admit, pausing your ministrations on his back, “I just had to relearn how to love you.” He smiles at this, hums into your neck to keep from crying.

“I’m glad we found our way back to each other,” he mumbles into your neck, “so where do we go from here?”

“From here we take it slow. We’ll learn together what it means to be individuals, and then from there we’ll see where it goes,” you say matter-of-factly, “no more repeating past mistakes.”

“Agreed,” he nods, “what will we tell the girls?”

That’s when your eyes widen and you sit up, forcefully pushing Satoru off of you.

“What did I say, what’s wrong?” he queries, sitting up on the bed. He watches you rummage around the room maniacally, head on a swivel as you run out of the room and return with a purse. You pull your phone out to see a slew of missed calls and messages.

“We forgot to call the girls!” You yell, showing him your phone screen of missed calls. Gojo jumps up to join you, one leg already sliding into his pants.

“Shit!”

Noticing the state of your appearance, you pinch the skin between your brows. “Satoru, I can’t wear this! You got cum all over it,” you groan, pointing to all the splotches of white. He tells you to wait a second before disappearing into his closet, then he comes back with a fist of clothes and throws it at you.

“I can’t wear this either, they’ll wonder why I’m wearing your clothes!”

Satoru runs to you and pull the dress off of your body, “We’ll wash it!” he screams, disappearing again out of the room, and to where you imagine, the laundry room. When he returns, he’s out of breath and panting. It’s only then do you realize how insane he looks with half his shirt buttoned, and his pants twisted around his hips. A giggle escapes your lips.

“What are you laughing at? Chop chop,” he claps, ushering you into his bathroom.

Yeah, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss this idiot.

comments + reblogs very appreciated !!!

#art by: @yamada_souko (twt)#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader smut #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo smut #gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x y/n #satoru gojo x y/n #jjk smut

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sluttywoozi · 4 months

Text

Take Trouble, Make It Double

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~4.7k | Pairing: csc x f!reader x yjh | Genre: smut, threesome, romance, college au, frat bros!cheol and jeonghan

Summary: It’s not every day you get to fuck your campus crush and your no longer ex-boyfriend, and you’re going to make the most of it.

Warnings: mention of alcohol, threesome, petnames (good girl, angel, sweetheart, baby), biting/marking, fingering, multiple orgasms, double penetration in one hole, double creampie, cheol doesn’t have abs, implied poly ending

Reader Notes: has a vagina and breasts, referred to as a girl, in a sorority, cums easily, gets lifted by cheol

Shit, you are not drunk enough for a frat party of this magnitude.

Unfortunately, considering that you’re volunteering early tomorrow and it would be hell if you were hungover, you don’t think you’ll drink anymore. Guys won’t stop asking if they can get you another drink and you’re getting tired of saying no, so you decide to head to the kitchen to refill your cup with soda. That should get them off your back, and you need a bit of an energy boost to withstand this party. You’re crossing the crowded living room to get to the kitchen when you spot Jeonghan and feel your heart stop.

Fuck, you’re in trouble.

You slept with him a week ago, and tonight, you were thinking of trying to hook up with him again.

It was… transcendental for you, and you hope it was just as good for him. You wouldn’t know, because he never called. Sure, he doesn’t have your number, but considering your sorority house is neighboring his frat house, it wouldn’t have been hard for him to obtain it. If he wanted to, that is.

You can only assume he didn’t, which puts a bit of a dent in your plans (and in your heart). You look away from him quickly, walking faster when you notice him push off of the wall he’s leaning against, his eyes on you and his mouth open like he’s about to call out your name.

You enter the oddly empty kitchen before he can, and you’re in the process of digging through the cooler for a bottle of coke when he appears next to you. You feel him before you see him, one of his hands touching your elbow and offering you a soda from the fridge. How he knew what you wanted, you don’t know.

“Hey,” he breathes, looking at you with slightly apprehensive eyes, like he’s not sure how he’ll be received.

You take in a deep breath and force a smile, trying to appear unaffected. “Hey, Jeonghan.”

“I’m glad you’re here, I’ve really been wanting to talk to you,” he says, his hand slipping down from your elbow to tangle his fingers with yours.

“I live right next door,” you remind him, pulling away to open the bottle and turning from him to fill your cup.

Out of your view, he bites his lip, cringing at the little bit of hurt that seeps through your mask.

“I know, and I’m sorry I didn’t reach out. There are… reasons. But still, you didn’t deserve that.”

“Can you tell me the reasons?” You ask curiously, already having accepted his apology in your mind. He sounded sincere, and fuck, you still want him.

“They involve someone else, and I don’t want to-”

“He didn’t ask you out because I told him I wanted to,” a voice sounds from the doorway, making you jump and look over.

Your eyes widen when you see who the voice belongs to, your heart pounding at the sight of Seungcheol. You dated in freshman year and he was your first real love, and when he broke up with you, you were devastated.

He said he was too busy between the fraternity and rugby practice and classes, and while you believed him, you knew that no matter how busy you were, you’d still want to be with him. You’ve managed to avoid him till now, always going to different frats for parties and tailgates, until last week, of course.

Some of your younger sisters begged you to go, saying they were scared to attend without you, and your protective side kicked in much to your detriment.

Because at that party, you met Jeonghan, and slept with someone for the first time since Seungcheol, who wasn’t in attendance (thank fucking God).

You don’t know how to respond, too many thoughts swirling around your head to make sense of anything. You obviously knew they were brothers, but you didn’t realize they were close or you wouldn’t have agreed to go to Jeonghan’s room.

Jeonghan must not have known you’re Cheol’s ex; if he did, you doubt he would have asked you in the first place. And now apparently Seungcheol wants you again, but Jeonghan wants you too?

Are you supposed to choose between them or…?

You always said you’d never take Seungcheol back after he hurt you like that, but now you’re reconsidering. Because he’s here before you, and you still love him like you used to.

There are still your growing feelings for Jeonghan to consider though, and suddenly being in this empty kitchen with just the two of them is stifling.

Seungcheol can read you still, comes closer to you on steady feet with sincere eyes, and says, “I never should have broken up with you. I should have held onto you and never let go, but I didn’t, and now it’s probably too late. It would be selfish of me to ask you out now, when I know my best friend could treat you better than I ever did.”

He sounds resigned, and you look to Jeonghan, who’s staring at him with a grateful, melancholy gaze. The ache in your chest is so sharp, your eyes water, and you look back and forth between them hopelessly.

“I guess I can’t have you both, can I?” You murmur, slumping against the counter and crossing your arms to hold yourself together.

Their gazes snap to each other and they communicate soundlessly, with gestures and eyebrows and widening eyes, before turning to you and saying, “What if you could?”

You weave through the dancing, drunk crowd, one of your hands caught in Jeonghan’s and the other held by Seungcheol. Your heart is racing and your panties are wet, but you’re doing your absolute best to seem unaffected by the idea of what you’re about to do.

It’s a bit nerve wracking, the concept of two men at once, but you’ve been through sorority recruitment in the blazing heat so you’re pretty sure you can handle anything.

Some of your sisters would disapprove of this but most would be cheering you on, and through the flashing lights and writhing bodies, you spot your best friend giving you a wide smile and a thumbs up. That’s enough to bolster you, and you hold your head high as you follow Jeonghan to the room he apparently shares with Seungcheol.

Jeonghan opens the door and ushers you inside, waiting for Seungcheol to cross the threshold and entering behind him, closing the door with a resounding click and muffling the roaring party.

They close in on you quickly, one set of hands pulling your top off and the other unbuttoning and tugging down your jeans, leaving you standing in your bra and underwear between them. You can feel Seungcheol’s breath on the back of your neck as he leans in to lay kisses along the line of your shoulder, and Jeonghan gives you an easy grin before cupping your face and drawing you into an open mouthed kiss.

They both know how you like to be touched, and they don’t hesitate to use that knowledge to their advantage. Seungcheol’s hand slides over your stomach and slips into your panties, his fingers gliding through your folds with how wet you already are. He presses his smug grin into your throat, whispers, “Want us that badly, huh?”

You flush from head to toe, suddenly shy, and gasp into Jeonghan’s mouth when Seungcheol finds your clit. He rubs it with the pads of his fingers slowly, gently, knowing you need some time to adjust to the sensation of someone else touching you.

Jeonghan unclasps your bra with practiced fingers, pulling it down your arms and off before covering your tits with his soft hands. He squeezes them, brushes his thumbs back and forth over your nipples until they’re hard, until you’re pressing your chest into his hands.

Seungcheol is still rubbing your clit, but his circles are firmer now, more insistent, and you just know he’s going to make you cum like this, know they’re going to make you cum like this.

They work together to work you up, two of Seungcheol’s fingers sinking into you as Jeonghan breaks the kiss and leans down to suck one of your nipples into his mouth. When Seungcheol’s fingertips curl into the patch of nerves inside you, you let out a rough gasp, wilting against his chest as his thumb presses into your clit.

Jeonghan just breathes a soft laugh, following you and grasping one of your hips with his free hand to hold you steady, to hold you still as you start to climb that mountain. You’re already throbbing, already clenching around Seungcheol’s fingers, and when he starts to fuck you with them, you feel yourself get even wetter. He adds a third and hooks them all into your g-spot as he digs his hips into you, the feeling of his hard cock making you hotter.

His thumb catches your clit at just the right angle and you start to flutter around his fingers, your pussy locking down on them as Jeonghan bites a stinging mark into the side of your breast. You whimper weakly, resting more of your weight on Seungcheol and knowing he can take it as you break apart between them.

“There we go, good girl,” Seungcheol murmurs roughly into your neck, one strong arm banding around your waist to hold you to him as you shake and whine and squeeze his fingers. Jeonghan pulls away from your tits to find your lips again, swallowing your sounds and sucking at your tongue as he presses his hard dick against you, moaning lowly into your mouth.

A shiver wracks through you when Seungcheol grinds his fingers into your g-spot again, before you’ve come down from the first orgasm. You remember how many times he used to make you cum when you were together and swallow nervously, attempting to prepare yourself for his particular brand of overstimulation.

Jeonghan, on the other hand, ate you out so gently for so long, it’s like you had one continuous, never ending, nearly lethal orgasm. It’ll be interesting to see how their styles combine, and as Seungcheol brings you right back to the edge, you vow to yourself that you’ll take whatever they give you.

It’s not every day you get to fuck your campus crush and your no longer ex-boyfriend, and you’re going to make the most of it.

Which means that when Seungcheol whispers, “Again, I want you to cum again,” and Jeonghan mumbles, “C’mon, sweetheart, cum for us,” you listen. Your cunt clamps down and your back arches and your voice wavers as you fall to pieces again.

It’s scary almost, how they can make you cum on command, but you revel in it too, revel in the fact that they know you that well. That with just a few words, they can push you over the edge.

And hell, you revel in the fact that they want to push you over the edge, that they want you.

It makes you so wet, you can hear Seungcheol fucking you with his fingers, slick sounds and squelches following every thrust and curl. You know they can hear it too and your cheeks heat, though you’re pretty sure they like it if their labored breathing and hard dicks say anything.

You’re starting to get sensitive but you won’t stop him, not when Jeonghan slides his hand under Seungcheol’s and knocks his thumb away from your clit so he can swirl circles with his soft fingertips. The stark difference in how they touch you is exhilarating, Seungcheol’s rough fingers inside you combined with Jeonghan’s gentle touch making you cry out.

You can barely hold yourself up but Seungcheol is strong enough to keep you standing, even as your knees weaken and you slump back against him. Jeonghan doesn’t follow you this time, just keeps circling your clit and watches as you shake and moan and gush for them, a slight smirk curling his lips as he slips his hand down and works two of his slim fingers inside you alongside Seungcheol’s thick three.

The fullness is more than anything you’ve ever felt. It takes your breath away, saps every last bit of strength from you until their hands on you (and in you) are the only things holding you up. You can’t even make a sound, you’re so overwhelmed, and Jeonghan takes a second to lean in close and ask, “You okay, angel? Is it too much?”

You can only shake your head, your eyes squeezed shut and your chest heaving as you gasp for air. He starts to pull his fingers out and your hand flies to his wrist, keeping his hand from drawing away. You realize he thinks you were answering the first question, and you force out, “I’m okay. S’not too much.”

He exhales in relief, sinking his fingers back in and saying, “What if we fucked you like this? Both of us in this sweet little cunt. Would you like that, angel?”

“Do you think you could take it?” Seungcheol chimes in, sounding worried and doubtful, as if they’re not currently five fucking fingers deep.

The words are flowing out of your mouth before you’ve even finished thinking about it.

“Yes, I can, I want it so fucking bad. Please, I want you both inside of me,” you whimper, one hand clutching Jeonghan’s wrist and the other gripping Seungcheol’s forearm to keep them close to you, though you know they’ll have to pull away if you want their dicks.

“If you’re sure, sweetheart,” Seungcheol whispers into your throat before pressing a tender kiss to your sensitive skin, his plump lips whisper soft against you.

“I’m sure,” you whine as you force yourself to let go of their arms, allowing them to withdraw from you. They carry lead you over to one of their twin beds, and for the first time tonight, they seem a little bashful.

“Sorry it’s so small, the guys would riot if we got double beds and they got singles,” Seungcheol grimaces, helping you take your panties off and lay down before tugging off his shirt. Jeonghan follows suit and you sigh dreamily, watching as they reveal more and more skin. You’re rubbing your legs together by the time they’re done, your eyes darting between them so you can get your fill of both.

Seungcheol’s cock is long, thick, with veins wrapped around the length like vines, and Jeonghan’s is slightly longer, just a bit slimmer, and curved up. Immediately, you know you want to keep Jeonghan in the front, your pussy aching at the memory of the way he could grind the head of his cock into your g-spot. You like feeling Seungcheol’s buff body behind you anyway, like feeling his firm muscles and his soft tummy and his thick thighs, so this really is the best of both worlds.

They smile like they know what you’re thinking, and you start to wonder if they do when they join you on the bed and begin maneuvering you. Seungcheol pulls you up by the hands and to the edge of the bed so Jeonghan can lay down in your place, and you feel their hands steady you as you climb astride him, Seungcheol following you.

Jeonghan lets go to hold his cock in place for you, guiding it to your entrance and watching as you sink down onto him. He lets out a shuddering breath, his eyelids fluttering and his mouth opening on a low moan at the sensation of your hot, wet cunt enveloping his cock. You’re similarly affected, the perfect curve of his dick making your eyes water and your pussy clench.

“You should be stretched out enough to take me too, but I think Jeonghan should fuck you first just to make sure. Not for too long though, I need you so fucking bad,” Seungcheol says, his voice rough and his hands tight on your hips. He must sense your inability to move, because he does the moving for you, lifting you nearly off Jeonghan’s cock and letting you fall back down as Jeonghan thrusts up.

A punched out moan escapes your parted lips at the feeling of their hands on you, of Jeonghan filling you, of Seungcheol moving you like a doll. You think about having both of them at the same time, and know you just can’t wait.

“Want you now, Cheol,” you gasp, reaching back to find his hip and attempting to pull him to you, though he’s too strong for you to move him much.

“Baby, I don’t know, I don’t want to hurt you,” he’s obviously hesitant, and you don’t want to push him past his comfort levels but fuck, you want him so bad.

“I can take it, Cheol, I can take you, I promise,” you gasp, already on the verge of begging and nearly on the verge of tears too. “Please, you’ve made me wait long enough.”

That’s the final nail in the coffin, and Seungcheol sighs with resignation as he takes hold of his dick and guides it between your legs. “Okay, sweetheart, okay, but if it’s too much, all you have to do is tell us.”

You nod fervently and lean down, draping yourself over Jeonghan so Seungcheol has a better angle. You can hear the deep breath he takes before he hooks one finger inside you alongside Jeonghan’s cock, then two fingers, then three, before pulling them out and finally replacing them with his dick.

When he starts to push inside, the sensation steals every last molecule of oxygen in your lungs, leaving you entirely breathless. It’s a good thing you’re resting on Jeonghan’s chest because you’re dizzy, lightheaded, dazed at the stretch you feel.

Seungcheol goes so slowly you’ve regained your breath by the time he’s fully inside of you, though your chest still feels tight with your pussy at its absolute limit.

It occurs to you that you’ll never take more than this, that this is the fullest you’ve ever been, ever will be, and you feel a rush of arousal gather around the bases of their cocks, your cunt too tight for much to escape. Seungcheol and Jeonghan have been grunting and groaning with pleasure (or restraint), but when you flood them and squeeze them, they both let out the most delicious whimpers.

“Are you-”

“Yes, move,” you moan, not even registering who asked you, your eyes clenched shut and your thighs trembling as you wait.

Jeonghan moves first, shoving just a bit deeper inside of you before pulling his hips back and sliding in again. You’re wet enough his dick glides against Seungcheol’s, and when he starts to fuck you too, you find yourself in a state of ecstasy so sharp, it nearly hurts. They take a few thrusts to find their rhythm, but eventually they do, and it’s almost more than you can take.

You’ll never ask them to stop though, never want them to stop. You just need them to fuck you like this forever, fuck you and fill you and keep you. Because you want to be kept by them, and you want them to want to keep you.

You can’t stop whimpering, your moans blending together until they’re endless, dotted by gasps and sharp cries. Seungcheol and Jeonghan are making noise too, and if you were lucid enough, you’d hope the music outside is loud enough to cover the obvious sounds of sex.

As it is, you can only lay there and feel each impact of Seungcheol’s and Jeonghan’s hips against yours, every thrust from Seungcheol pushing you into Jeonghan and every thrust from Jeonghan pushing you into Seungcheol. Until Seungcheol wraps his arms around your neck and waist and pulls you up into his body.

The change in angle makes you cry out, as does the big hand he places on your throat. He doesn’t squeeze, just leaves it there like he knows you like as he and Jeonghan begin moving in unison. Seungcheol holds you in place so they can thrust up into you, and the feeling of them filling you together is somehow even better than them alternating.

Jeonghan’s eyes trail over your body, his hands following them down down down until one catches on your hip and the other slips between your thighs. When his delicate fingers find your swollen, sensitive clit, you yelp, your hips jolting into them and away as he rubs steady, insistent circles.

He must be getting close if he’s trying to make you cum, and you can tell by Seungcheol’s sounds and leaking dick that he’s getting close too. You’re almost scared of it, scared of the tidal wave of pleasure that will overtake you when it’s already almost too much, but you know that if they want you to break for them, you will.

Seungcheol starts sucking marks into the side of your neck, and Jeonghan forces out in a trembling voice, “You gonna cum for us again, angel? Last one, I promise. Just be good for us one last time, please.”

“Cum, sweetheart, I know you can,” Seungcheol encourages you through gritted teeth.

And God, you want to be good for them, you want to be Jeonghan’s angel and Seungcheol’s sweetheart, so when you feel it start to build up deep inside, you don’t fight it. You let the stinging bliss coil tighter and tighter in your belly until it shatters, taking you apart at the seams. Your walls clamp down and you nearly force them from you, but they thrust in deep and stay as you cum so hard, you lose all sense of time and space and matter.

The only tethers you have to this plane of existence are Seungcheol and Jeonghan, and they hold you up and hold you together as you try to swim through the stars in your eyes. You force yourself to wake up when you hear the tell-tale noises of their approaching highs, wanting to be fully present for the moment they fill you.

Jeonghan and Seungcheol are the only men you’ve ever let cum inside you, and you can’t wait to feel that again, to feel them again. It’ll be different this time, you know, will probably alter your brain chemistry and the trajectory of your life, but you’re ready.

“Cum for me, I want to feel you both filling me up, please,” you whine, nearly shaking in Seungcheol’s arms out of anticipation. Jeonghan’s face crumples in pleasure, Seungcheol lets out the hottest little whimper you’ve ever heard, and they break together, flooding you with so much cum, you think you’ll burst.

Their hands grip you tight but you don’t care, wouldn’t mind waking tomorrow to sore spots and lingering reminders of the night you shared with them, of probably the best night of your life. Seungcheol’s hand drops from your neck to wrap around your waist, pulling you into a sweet, soft hug before letting go and slowly lowering you back onto Jeonghan’s chest.

Jeonghan’s smile is dazed, satiated, satisfied, and he drops it to pout at you expectantly, his eyes hazy and his hand gentling on your hip. You lean in and press your lips to his, humming into his mouth when he swipes his tongue over your bottom lip. He doesn’t deepen the kiss much, eventually tapering off into little pecks and smooches that he dots all over your face.

“Ready for us to pull out?” Seungcheol asks gently, rubbing your back with his big, rugby-rough hands.

You nod and breathe, “Go one at a time, please,” bracing yourself for the approaching emptiness and attempting to push off the thoughts and fears of what will happen after this.

Seungcheol withdraws first, pulling his hips from yours and dragging his softening cock out of your still fluttering pussy before climbing off the bed and heading to his closet. It’s almost odd to just feel Jeonghan inside of you, and you know it’ll feel even weirder not to feel either of them. You’ll just be you again, not you and Seungcheol and Jeonghan, and you can’t say you’re excited.

It must show on your face because Jeonghan cups your cheeks, presses a quick kiss to your lips, and whispers, “Everything will be okay, I promise.”

“So do I,” Seungcheol murmurs as he approaches with a towel in hand.

He holds your hips up so Jeonghan can pull out, a surge of cum following his exit now that there’s nothing keeping it inside. Seungcheol catches it with the towel, wiping at your thighs and dabbing gently at your stretched, sore pussy.

Jeonghan passes a hand over your hair and waits until you’re as clean as you can get before tilting to the side and carefully sliding out from under you, disappearing from view. You try not to feel lonely without them in bed with you, try to remind yourself that there’s no way this could work, try to steel yourself as you imagine stumbling out of their door and making your way through the party back to your own house.

You hope they’ll walk you home at least, maybe give you a kiss goodbye before never calling you again, just like before.

Jeonghan returns clothed in pajamas with a bottle of water from their mini fridge, cracking it open and handing it to you with waiting eyes. You take a sip and he grins, so you take another, realizing how parched you are and practically gulping the whole thing down in one go.

“Good girl,” he says, taking the empty bottle from you and smirking at the way your eyes snap to his. “What? I wanted to try it out too. Did you like it?”

“Yes,” you answer honestly, both because you don’t see a point in lying and because you’re loosened up from however many orgasms they gave you.

“Good,” he smiles easily, leaning down to kiss you softly. “I like it too.”

Seungcheol sits heavily on the bed next to you, dressed in boxers and a shirt you recognize as one you bought for him, a band tee that’s just a bit too big on him. It’s much thinner than you remember, worn in the shoulders and holey along the hem, and it makes you smile to think he’s been wearing it all this time.

“We have a lot to talk about, a lot to figure out, but I think for now, we should just push the beds together and go the fuck to sleep,” he suggests tiredly, taking your hand in both of his and giving it a loving squeeze.

Jeonghan nods and points to a door, “We do have our own bathroom, so you can take a shower while we rearrange the room, angel.”

They want you to… stay? The party seems to be dying down, it would be easy enough for them to slip you out without too many eyes, but it seems that thought hasn’t even crossed their minds. You try to contain the beam but it stretches your lips anyway, a rush of giddiness giving you enough energy to stand on your shaky legs and start to limp over to the bathroom.

They stand with you, Jeonghan speeding ahead to turn the shower on and Seungcheol reaching out to open the door for you, pressing his warm hand to your lower back as you pass him. Jeonghan presses a kiss to your lips and hands you a towel, reaching his hand into the shower stall and saying, “Should be warm enough for you. We’ll see you soon?”

You smile a watery smile and respond, “See you soon,” as he exits the bathroom, leaving you with Seungcheol. He brings you into another hug, swaying you like he used to and pressing a kiss to your hair before reluctantly letting you go, holding his hand out to steady you as you climb into the shower. The corners of his mouth quirk up fondly when you refuse to let go, and he pulls your hand up to his mouth to kiss the back of it.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll be waiting for you. We’ll be waiting for you.”

He seals his promise with one last kiss before tugging the shower curtain between you and padding away on quiet feet.

Somehow, you really do think everything will be okay.

AN: this was suggested by an anon and i am eternally grateful bc woooie do i love frat/college aus and jeongcheol

Please reblog if you enjoyed! I love to hear your thoughts!

how i picture the morning after if you're curious

My Masterlist

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eddiesxangel · 4 months

Text

Fool Me Once | Eddie Munson x Reader

Anonymous Asked: Eddie being your first everything and first boyfriend and reader is like kinda awkward or something. Then Eddie gets really drunk and gets home to reader and starts yelling at her saying like “You’re only dating me because you don’t want to be a sad loser virgin.” and she gets really sad because she genuinely loves him so much and she starts thinking that he doesn’t love her at all… Then maybe the day after he can’t find reader anywhere and maybe she’s like with robin just crying her eyes out.

AN: IDK IDK it’s my first angsty thing I’ve done hope it’s ok 🫣

Cw: angst, hurt no comfort. Small bitty smut. Use of pet names, one use of reference to reader as “my girl”

“I love you, god, I love you” Eddie slowly pumped his swollen cock in and out of you.

You’ve never felt this wave of pleasure before; no wonder everyone was so hyped about sex.

“Fuck you’re so tight.”

“Baby, please.” You didn’t know what you were asking for, but the feeling in your lower stomach was starting to build more and more and more until! Euphoria. Euphoria fuelled your body. The wave of pleasure that Eddie just granted you felt indebted to him.

“I love you,” you sigh as your body melts into your boyfriend.

You’ve been with him for almost six months and finally felt ready to give himself to him. You hadn’t slept with anyone until now, and you were so happy you waited. You never felt so close, so in love, so unbelievably happy in this moment. Life was amazing; nothing could ever break this feeling you have.

Ring ring ring

You were abruptly awakened by the sound of your phone ringing. You were fast asleep, and now feeling disoriented, you looked at the clock. It was already 3:38am. You wondered who could be calling you at this late hour. Maybe it was an emergency? Your heart racing, you rushed over to the phone in a state of panic.

"Hello?"

"You little slut"

"Eddie?"

"Who else would it be? Are you expecting a booty call? another guy you want to fuck?"

"I don't understand? What's wrong."

“What's wrong? I'll tell ya what's wrong! You’re only with me, so you’re not some loser virgin, that’s what! Do you think all the guys will want you to know that your cherry is popped? Well, guess what, honey? Now you're just a sad little whore.” He slurred.

“Wha-“

“You think you’re hot shit now? Getting with the freak of Hawkins? Gonna brag about how you fucked the freak?”

“Eddie, what are you talking about?” your voice wobbled.

He was obviously drunk out of his mind, but as they all say, drunk words are a sober man’s thoughts.

“I know how this is going to go… well, not if I beat you to it.”

“I don't understand?”

“I don't understand?” He mocked you in a high-pitched voice. “I’ll tell you what I’m talking about!” He yelled, and you cowered. He didn’t care. His voice got louder and louder. “You were a sad loooooser virgin before me! And now you’re just a sad loser who fucked the freak,” he laughed. He actually laughed.

"Eddie-"

“So we are don-”

You hung up the phone before he could finish his sentence.

You couldn't believe this was happening? You gave Eddie everything. You thought he was your everything up until this point. You slept with Eddie for the first time a week ago. Things were good, great, even. Until he went to the hideout tonight without you.

You stayed up the rest of the night because you were in tears about what Eddie said. None of this makes any sense? You always loved Eddie, and you thought he loved you back? How could he be so cruel?

You were woken up from your daze by a knock on your apartment door. You stumbled out of your room, still in your sleep shirt, with puffy eyes from crying all night. Robin was here to pick you up for work.

"Good Mor-" Her smile dropped along with the cup of coffee she was handing you as she saw your appearance. "Oh my god! What happened?" she rushed inside to wrap her arms around you.

"Eddie. He-" You could hardly get the words out. You just crumpled into a ball on the floor and sobbed pathetically in front of Robin.

"I'm going to kill that son of a bitch" She let you cry into her on the floor. "Come on, you need to get out of here. Get changed. We are calling in sick, and we can return to my place."

Eddie woke up the morning after with a terrible hangover. It was already 12:35pm, and he couldn't remember how he got home. He suddenly felt an intense wave of nausea, which prompted him to hurry to the bathroom, where he vomited uncontrollably.

After the fifth shot, things in his memory become a little hazy. He was pretty hammered by then, but he still kept drinking with the boys. He vaguely remembered Jason being at the bar and making some leud comment about you, but other than that. Nothing.

He stumbled over to his answering machine to find it empty. That's weird? You always call him before your shift, and at least try to catch him on your lunch break. Today was Wednesday, right? You always work the morning shifts today.

Eddie tried calling your number, but he had no luck, so he tried calling your work, and when they said you called in sick, he got worried. So he tried your number again, and it still went to voice mail. Maybe you were sleeping? He tried calling back to see if Robin might know more. But when your annoyed coworker picked up the phone to tell him Robin also called in sick, he knew something was up.

Eddie rushed to his phone book to find Robin's number and called it. he waited for four rings until...

"Hello?"

"Hey! Rob it's Eddie, have you-"

"We are not speaking to you."

"We? Who's we?"

But it was too late. All he heard was the sound of the dial tone.

He tried again, no answer this time. He tried once more before getting pissed and decided to just go over to her place because what the fuck?

When Eddie got to Robin's, he pounded on the door like the pounding going on in his head.

"Robin! Open the door, please."

The door finally swung open to a very angry-looking Robin standing before him.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, Munson?!" She stepped outside and closed the door behind her so he couldn't come in.

"Robin, I'm extremely hungover and do not have the patience for your riddles. Do you know where my girl is or not? I'm worried sick."

"Oh, you can relax now since she is not your girl anymore, buddy." she poked his chest roughly. "you made that abundantly clear last night.

"Last night? I don't remember a thing from last night!"

"Well, think harder because she has been in there sobbing her eyes out from your little phone call."

"Phone call? What pho-" Then it all came rushing back to Eddie. It hit him like a Mack Truck.

"Yo Munson, where is that little whore of yours? Is she usually dangling off your arm like your little pet?" Jason snorted. "I bet she's off sucking another guy's cock; realized what a loser you are."

Jason didn't say much more to antagonize Eddie and get in his head, especially with the amount of alcohol he had consumed.

How could he be so stupid?

"Robin, oh my god, I fucked up. I fucked up big. Let me apologize."

"No. not now." She's a mess, as you can imagine-"

Robin was interrupted by the creek of the front door opening.

There you stood, looking as small as ever. Your eyes are still puffy, and your hair is a mess in your pyjamas at 1:30 in the afternoon.

"Baby, I-"

"Don't!" you cut him off, and Robin leaves to give you two spaces. "Don't you dare come here and think you can just take back what you said to me!" You had done a lot of crying; your anger was showing through.

"You don't understand, Jason was-"

"Jason?! What the fuck does Jason have to do with this? You hurt me, Eddie! I gave you everything! And then you throw it back in my face, accusing me of sleeping around? Are you insane? I've been in love with you for the last year and give myself to you, and you just throw that all away because of Jason Fucking Carver?"

"Baby, please, I'm so sorry; I'll do anything!"

"You've done enough." You turn and slam the door. That's it. You were done. Your heart felt so heavy… like it was just smashed into a million pieces. You were so close to caving when you saw the look of sorrow in those puppy dog eyes. But he had hurt you so bad you couldn’t believe he felt an ounce of pain he had inflicted upon you.

You and Eddie were officially done.

You have been radio silent. You were held up in your room, and you refused to do anything other than go to work.

Eddie called you excessively. It was every day, multiple times a day. His messages made your heartache as you played them back. You could hear in his voice how broken he was. He had fucked up so bad you didn’t know if you should give him another chance. For two weeks, you refused to answer your phone. You were so sick of it ringing you eventually took it off the line.

Eddie did everything he could think of to try and win you back. He sent you flowers to your work every single shift. He called, wrote love letters, and just needed you to speak to him. He was a desperate mess without you. Eddie’s heart, like not, was ripped into shreds, and it was all his fault.

You’ve been in his life since high school since he met you in hellfire freshman year. Then, once you finally confessed your feelings for one another, he couldn’t believe his luck. You said you wanted to be with him, that you wanted him to be the only one you give yourself to. He never thought that he would be so lucky... And here he was, shooting himself in the foot. He even tried to go to your apartment a few times. But you would never answer the door. He would leave a note each time he showed up unannounced. It would say how sorry he was and how much he loved you, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to believe him.

The slurred words repeatedly played in your head, and you couldn’t make it stop. No matter how much he apologized, nothing he could say could make you forget. Your chest felt like it had a fifty-pound weight sitting right on your heart. Your eyes were permanently swollen from the continuous crying you couldn’t seem to stop. He had stolen your heart and then stomped on it until it seized to beat.

The first month after the breakup was rough, but avoiding Eddie seemed to be easy enough. He eventually got the message by month two and stopped trying altogether.

As time went on, you slowly started to heal. Eventually, your constant thoughts about Eddie subsided. Eventually, they stopped. You never thought you would get over the hurt, but the distance helped. You were getting on your merry way by month three. Finally, feeling like yourself again, eating regularly, sleeping regularly. You hadn’t heard or seen him, and you were finally freed from the prison sentence that was Eddie Munson.

Time spent with your friends and family was exactly what you needed. Even though Robin saw Eddie regularly, she never forgave him for what he did to you. Their friendship was strained, which strained his friendship with Steve as well as Nancy. They wanted to take his side, but once they heard what he had said to you, they couldn’t simply look the other way. So you would hang out with them when Eddie wasn’t there and vice versa. They made sure you never had to encounter one another for the time being. However, it was getting more and more difficult to have two separate schedules to appease you both.

You were to go to Steve’s for dinner with everyone, pizza and movie night. When you arrived, everyone was tense. Lines got crossed, miscommunication ensued, and as you walked through to the kitchen, he was sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of water in his hand, almost slipping from his grip as his Bambi eyes widened at the sight of you.

“Oh shit!” You hear Steve curse when he realizes the mistake that has been made.

“I’m going to go.” You turn and sprint to the door.

“Not wait!l You can hear Eddie shuffle off the chair behind you, but you refuse to look back.

“Please! Wait!”

Threatening tears sting your eyes, and you rush out the front door.

“Sweetheart, wait.” You feel his hand hook your elbow as your body is jerked in the opposite direction in which you’re running.

“What!” You yell, but then you see his eyes. You really look at him for the first time in three months. He had bags under his eyes, and the dark circles extenuated the deep chocolate of his eyes.

“I-I uh,” he lets out a deep breath, “I wanted to say I’m sorry I’m so sorry. I was so god damn stupid, so so stupid, the dumbest guy on the planet. I can’t believe I fucked this up so badly; I love you. I love you so much. I can’t do this anymore without you, baby. Please.” He was on his knees, begging, literally on his knees, grovelling.

“Eddie, get up.”

“No, I don’t deserve it.” He was so pathetic, but he didn’t care. “I love you, please, just please. I need you in my life.”

“I don’t know Eddie…”

“So that’s not a no?!” He popped up like an excited little bunny, the silver oh hope he needed to get by.

“Eddie…” you sigh.

“No, no, you said maybe! You don’t know. You haven’t decided. Please, baby, I love you.”

“This is too hard.” Your lip wobbles as you try walking away again, but he interlocks your hand with his.

“Please, can I at least just hold you?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” You let your hand slip from his grip, and he unwillingly let go.

Eddie felt you slipping through his fingers, literally. The hope he had moments ago was gone.

“I’m sorry”

“So am I…” without another look back, you walked away.

#Eddie Munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine

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cloudywriting05 · 3 months

Text

one of your girls. — coriolanus snow.

we dont gotta be in love, no. i don’t gotta be the one, no. i just wanna be one of your girls tonight.

part two published, read here.

cw: dom!coryo, p in v, Bondage, vulgar language, pain during sex, daddy kink, slight sadism(?), 18+, slight non-con, etc

words: 3048 [good, GOD], MAY be grammar errors.

tags: @euphemiaamillais my lovely lady.

“Hey, Snow.”

The blonde boy snapped his head at you, a stern look plastered to his face. You watched his eyes travel up and down your figure, his expression softened as a small smile crept on his face. He turned his body to face you and sighed.

You and Coriolanus’s relationship was unique, to say the least. You’ve known each other your entire life but dedicated your every day to one-upping each other. Your decade-long academic rivalry with him was something you found deeply annoying, and you knew if he wasn’t as attractive as he was, you would’ve killed him by now. Coriolanus found the rivalry thrilling. Watching you stress and work out to get the best grade was entertaining for him. On the days he was lucky, you would be in the library at the same time as him, searching for textbooks to grab before the other could. The number of times he caught himself peering down at your small figure, bent over, frantically digging through piles of chemistry books was criminal.

The new school year had just begun, and you were instantly bombarded with strange rumours. Rumours about Coriolanus, more specifically, his dick. He’d allegedly slept with half of the grade’s female population, including your own friends. You rebuffed them initially, that was until you overheard the said ‘girls’ discussing it, confirming it all. You were annoyed, absolutely livid at the thought of Coriolanus sleeping with them. Why did he leave you out? Was this something else he was showing you that you could never get? Whatever he was doing was working. Fucking your entire friend group but purposely dodging you was a smart move on his behalf. But you were never a loser, never second place.

So here it brought you. Standing in front of your arch nemesis with your arms crossed.

“Could I help you, gorgeous?” he purred, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re a slut, Snow. Fucking all my friends is pretty corny, don’t you think?” you remarked, running a finger down the locker beside him.

He looked at you, guilt written across his face. “I’m not a slut, little girl. And who told you that?”

“Everyone. Everyone is talking about you and your dick, Coriolanus.”

“I got busy over the holidays. Who knew Academy girls could be so desperate for my dick?” he sneered, smiling to himself.

“So why did you do it?”

“Do what?” he asked, puzzled.

“Fuck everyone but me? Were you trying to tick me off? If so, it worked, Snow.”

He let out a laugh, completely bewildered. “Are you high? What are you trying to get at?”

“Did I stutter? You fucked every girl in my friend group but me, even though I should’ve been the first. Now, because you decided to fucking skip me, I have to hear about how freaky you are, or how big your dick is all day!” you blurted, your frustration getting by the absolute best of you as his nonchalant demeanor sent you over the edge.

“So, let me get this straight; you’re angry at me because I didn’t fuck you?” he questioned, eyes wide, trying to comprehend what was coming out of your mouth.

You stuttered for a second. “Yes, yes I am.”

“We played sandbox together and here you are now, in this empty hallway, begging me to fuck you,” he said as he fixed his uniform.

“Oh, so you don’t wanna fuck me?” you purred, your arms crossed, looking up at him.

“Just to piss you off, no I don’t. Doesn’t matter how hot I think you are, or how long I’ve wanted to for this to happen. I like seeing you mad.” he smiled, knowing he had ticked you off. “I’ll see you in bio, little girl.”

He spoke as he walked away. Your eyes twitched in anger; Snow could not win. Not today.

“Fine, I’ll just ask Plinth!” your words stopped him right in his tracks.

He turned and stalked towards you, stopping only a few inches in front of you. He glared down into your eyes. “If you fuck Sejanus, I’ll kill you both and make it look like an accident.”

You scoffed. “Would you, actually? I don’t know. All I know is that I want you at my house by eleven thirty. If you’re as good as one of the girls was vouching you were, then prove it. Or I’ll get one of your friends to, just to make it even.”

“You win, I’ll see you there, doll.”

It was eleven-twenty on the dot and there was still no sign of Coriolanus. You’d pondered about the interaction from today for hours, worried you came off too demanding. You thought to yourself for a while that he was going you stand you up and purposely not come, that would’ve sent you over the edge. You sat on your bed, every negative thought running through your head. Your thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sound of frantic knocking.

You rushed downstairs and stood in front of the door. “Who is it?”

“Is that a joke?” Coriolanus spoke from the other side of the door. “Let me in, sweetheart. I’m freezing.”

You flung the door open, Coriolanus stood there, a smile plastered to his face. He sported a worn-out shirt that was fitted, hugging his chest. He paired it with pajama pants with a red pattern and slides that looked like they should’ve never left his house. He walked right past you into your home. “You look like you’re about to go to sleep, couldn’t dress sexier?”

“I mean it’s gonna come right off, isn’t it?”

“Whatever, my room is upstairs and the first to your right.”

“Perfect.”

You watched the boy jog up the stairs and disappear behind the wall, following him shortly after.

You entered the room to him sitting on the bed, using his arms to sit up behind him. You closed the door behind you without breaking eye contact. You could physically feel the tension in the room, his entire demeanor shifting from minutes ago. You felt almost chilled.

He lifted himself from the edge of your bed and walked towards you, stopping himself only when his face was inches from yours. “Did one of the girls ever tell you what I did to them?”

You shook your head. “No, I don’t think.”

“I’ll have to show you, won't I?” he purred, his hand traveling up from your side to your chin.

“Yeah, I guess.”

His hand landed on your cheek, taking you by surprise. You gasped as his hand returned to your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes. “Stupid girl. You wanted me to treat you like your friends, right? They didn’t talk, so why should you?”

You should’ve walked away; you should’ve told him to get out. The boy who defined your entire academy life just slapped you in the face and degraded you, yet your entire body yearned for his touch. You stared into his eyes, they were glistening, wild with power and lust. His blonde hair dimly lit by the streetlight peering through your window into your dark, cold room. You needed to get even; you needed him to fuck you to get even. You needed him inside of you and in that moment, you didn’t care if it was the last thing you did that night.

“Tell me what you want me to do to you, now,” he demanded, his grip on your chin tightening as he forced you to look up at him, helpless.

You shook under his touch, completely powerless. “I- I want you to fuck me, Coryo.”

He lowered his head, resting his lips against your ear, sending a cold shiver down your spine and straight to your heat. “Say it louder, so everyone in the Capitol knows how much of a dumb, little slut you are for me. Say it.”

“I want you to fuck me because I’m a slut... for you.” you proclaimed, your voice projected as he breathed against your cheek, his grip on your chin still tight.

“Pathetic, but good enough,” he replied, he released your chin and moved himself away from you slightly. “Get on the bed and strip for me, now.”

You nodded dumbly, crawling onto the bed. You lifted your shirt over your head and tossed it on the ground beside you, removing your pants and underwear right after. You sat there idly, completely bare, whilst a clothed Coriolanus stood in front of you, fucking you with his gaze. His eyes traveled up and down your frame, admiring you.

He raised a hand and began to caress your cheek; you instinctively nuzzled your face into his palm causing him to softly laugh. “The smartest and prettiest girl in the academy, sitting naked waiting for me to fuck her like a good girl.”

He looked down on you, you were naked and nuzzling your face into his palm, inaudibly begging him to fuck you. You were desperate and it turned him on so much. The most stubborn girl he fawned over for years now naked and begging him to fuck her. He could feel his dick trying to break free from his pants just from the sight of you.

He walked away and disappeared into your open closet, leaving you clueless. He walked out with a ribbon in his hand.

“That’s my grandma's, Coryo. That’s the ribbon she gifted me. What do you need it for?” you questioned, puzzled.

“Put your back against your bed frame and stop asking me stupid questions. Sluts with dirty mouths like you, my dear, don’t get to talk.”

You followed his command and shuffled up until your bare back was against the headboard, waiting patiently for his next command. You were the smartest girl at your academy yet there you were, brainlessly waiting for Snow to tell you what to do.

He climbed onto the bed and motioned for your hand. “Give me your hands, doll.”

You timidly raised your hand towards him. He grabbed your wrist and began to firmly tie the piece of ribbon around them, causing you to wince slightly. The thin material pressed against your skin as you looked at him, hopeless. There he had you. Your wrists tied, naked. Your knees spread exposing you.

He took his time once again, admiring your small, fragile frame. “You look so gorgeous, let daddy see what’s between your legs better, okay?”

You nodded and spread your knees apart more, fully exposing your heat to the boy. He hovered over you, staring down at your pussy, glistening with juices. He used his hands to turn you over on your knees, your hands still restrained, using your elbows for support.

“How many times did you speak to that bitch this week?” he inquired from behind you.

“Who? Sejanus? … Maybe three or four times, I’m not too sure–”

“Too many times. Way too many fucking times.”

You felt a hard hand land against your cheek, your back curled in pain as you threw your head between your hands. It was followed by another, causing you to cry out in pain. He slapped your ass again, and then once more. Painful groans escaped your lips as you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to ignore the pain.

“Four slaps for four conversations. Turn over and spread your legs a bit more for me, okay?”

You dumbly followed, still wincing in pain. You turned yourself onto your back and spread your legs as far as you could, quivering and vulnerable. Coriolanus watched, entranced by your naked body. You looked at the boy, gawking at you. His hand grabbed your tied wrists and lifted them above your head. The boy then moved his head between your knees, planting a kiss on your knee, then on your inner thigh. He peered up at you, your pussy throbbing and yearning for his touch.

“Please, I can’t take it. Touch me,” you begged, your voice timid, scared of the boy between your thighs.

“Say please.”

“Please, please?”

“Good girl.” he purred, lowering his head further, you felt his nose graze your pubic bone.

His lips planted a kiss, then moved down to your folds. A moan instantly escaped your lips, your body churning at the feeling of his lips on your moist folds. Your back arched. You felt his lips move against your core, lapping at your folds. He used his tongue to press against your clit, making you cry out and heave. His arm traveled up to your breast, massaging it as his tongue lapped at your pussy. His nose pressing against you. You squirmed as he used his mouth to suck your clit, sending your eyes to the back of your head. The sensations overstimulate you, leaving you hopeless. You didn’t dare bring your arms down, knowing he wouldn’t react well.

He lifted his head from your heat for a second and peered up at you. “You taste so good, let me show you.”

He raised himself and lowered his lips onto yours. Forcing your mouth open with his, his tongue invading your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself. You moaned in his mouth, completely dumbfounded by the boy.

“Now, open your mouth,” he said, gripping onto your chin.

You dumbly followed, letting him spit into your mouth. You swallowed without hesitation.

“Good, you did one thing right,” he remarked, unbuttoning his pants, holding eye contact with you from above.

He swiftly removed his pants, followed by his shirt. His body was leaner than you’d expected, his muscular frame surprising you. He hauled himself off the bed and lowered his brief, freeing his throbbing penis. You let out a small gasp. He motioned for you to come towards him, you crawled, wrists still tied, and sat on the edge of the bed in front of him. His penis right across from your face. He stared down at you.

“Look what you did to me, fix it up. Now,” he demanded.

You nodded your head as you leaned to lick his penis. You use your lips to latch onto his tip, sucking on it as you let your tongue massage it. He groaned from above you, eyes closed. Your head moving slowly to and from, his dick still in your mouth. Your tongue glided back and forth as you pleasured the boy. He threw his head back as you did everything you could to his dick with your mouth alone, you spat on it frantically as you took his cock deeper into your throat. Gagging on his dick and pushing yourself past your limit.

“Go fucking deeper, you dumb fucking slut. Treat it like you would treat some other guys. Whore.” he demanded, his hand latching onto a chunk of your hair.

He pushed himself further down your throat, tears rolling down your eyes in return. He pumped your throat like it was your pussy, you gagged on his cock uncontrollably. Your wrists were tied in front of you, helpless as he fucked your throat. He pulled your head back with the chunk of hair. You gasped for a breath of air frantically, tears rolling down your eyes. His open palm landed against your cheek again, causing you to gasp in pain.

“When I tell you to go deeper, I mean it, slut. Aren’t you meant to be smart?” he scoffed, looking down at your frail frame. “You spent years trying to get under my fucking skin, now I’m on yours, and you don’t know how to act? Say thank you.”

“Thank you, Daddy, thank you.” you whimpered, sniffling as he shot you a smile.

“There you go, pretty girl. Turn over for me now.”

You nodded dumbly, turning around on the edge of the bed. You used your elbows for support as you perked your backside up. The boy stared at you hungrily. You felt a slap land on your cheek again, causing you to flinch in pain.

“You wanna feel me?”

He watched your head bop and down in response. Within no time he prepped himself at your entrance, slowly pushing into you. You groaned into the mattress, feeling his large cock stretch your pussy.

“Little Miss Capitol is tight, isn’t she?” he sneered.

He slowly pushed himself in, then out. You groaned as his pace picked up excruciatingly slow, every thrust filling you up. His dick stretched your walls, every bit of your pussy was filled with his cock. He gripped your hip and leaned forward, using his free hand to push your wrists further from you.

His pace quickened. His cock slung in and out of you, moaning as he slapped your ass. You didn’t flinch, distracted by the feeling of his cock. Your moans grew louder as he quickened his pace, hitting a spot within you that hadn’t known of until now. Your body quivered as you felt the boy fuck you with all his strength.

You felt his arm wrap around your throat, pulling you up and restraining your breathing. You gasped, his pace not slowing. You felt his chest against your back as he thrusts into you mercilessly. His free hand slithers to your clit, rubbing it in a circular motion. You felt your muscles wear as he continued to push into you, overstimulated beyond comprehension.

Your stomach tightened as you came, and you shrieked. Your entire body loses its balance, flailing forward on your chest. Coriolanus didn’t stop. He continued to thrust into you, your body limp in front of him. You moaned into the mattress as he fucked you whilst his hand circulated your clit.

“I came, Coriolanus, I came!”

“I know, shut up.”

He ignored your words. Your body tightened again, this time your juices threatened to squirt out. You fought every bone in your body to not let it out. His finger still rubbing your clit as he pushed into you.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum again. I can’t, it hurts!”

“Yes, you can, you can.” He breathed from behind you.

You cried out, shamefully squirting on your bedsheets. The boy pulled his cock out and frantically massaged it until his semen shot on your back. He heaved from behind you.

“Now, you are just like the rest of the girls. I’ll see you on Monday, doll.”

—

pt2 published…. read here.

#coriolanus snow #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #ballads of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #smut #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow smut #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth #tbosas #snow #coriolanus x you #peeta x reader #coriolanus x oc #coriolanus fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #Lucy gray #coriolanus x sejanus

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classicalchan · 5 months

Text

liar

pairing: bangchan x f! reader

rating: sfw

tags: sharing a bed, just pure softness, cuddling, best friends to lovers, pining, confessions, tired chan

wc: i'm too lazy to count but idk it's probably 2k 😭(I'm definitely wrong)

your doorbell rings when it's close to midnight, its sound reverberating through every corner of your little apartment. your socked feet carry you from bed to the door on autopilot. you weren't sleeping, but you were nearly there.

you open up your front door and off-white light from the hallway spills shamelessly into your dark living space. Chan stands there, bag slung lazily across his shoulder, eyes droopy with sleep.

"they borrowed my place for a party i don't wanna be at," he declares. "I'm sleeping here."

he walks in without waiting for an answer, wrapping you in a quick, one-armed hug for a greeting on his way. his bag finds its place on your couch. he switches a couple of lamps on here and there and fixes a photo frame on his way to your bathroom with a towel and some clothes in hand.

you kind of like how it's so natural for him to be at your place. like he belongs here. like he could live here.

you wished he would.

you lay back in bed, shifting to a side, leaving the rest of the space for Chan. ever since you first cuddled up with him a few months ago, it became an unspoken rule between you to always sleep cuddled up when alone.

it was one of the best parts of your friendship with him. you could abandon every care in the world when he was around and just be. He was always there- gentle, warm, protective, kind. everything you wished for in a man.

everything you can't have.

it had been weeks since you had gone to bed without thinking of him. even in the face of extreme exhaustion and no contact, Chan never failed to slip into your thoughts. he needed to compensate you for all the nights you couldn't sleep just because he did something adorable during the day and you wouldn't stop thinking about it.

he needed to apologize for every time you accidentally called one of your friends by his name, just because he wouldn't leave your head.

and he needed to desperately make up for nights like these. nights when he would touch you and let you touch him, but never enough. there was always a weighted, invisible boundary you hated with all your guts. a burning line you couldn't cross.

so, over the days, you had learned to make peace with what you got, no matter how little. you had learned to make the most of his arms around you, the firmness of his torso pressed to your back, the warmth of his breathing behind your ear, his occasional sleepy rambling.

sometimes he said your name.

before you knew it, the mattress dips beside you, the familiar scent of Chan's shampoo filling up your senses. you came alive a little.

his arm slips across your middle, pulling you as close as humanly possible into the abyss that was his warmth. you could spend an eternity here without a syllable of protest falling from your lips.

“i don’t have a shirt on, is that okay?” he mumbles into your hair.

more than okay, you wanted to say but for the sake of the friendship you had spent years building, you resorted to a small hum. he usually slept barely clothed, but when with you, he always asked. he made sure never to cross any lines. he was cautious, reserved. too far.

“is everything okay?” you ask. “you usually do not turn down a chance to party.”

you feel him move behind you, long fingers fiddling with the thin fabric of your t-shirt. he yawns like a puppy.

“i’d had a busy day,” he begins. “i needed some sleep and you know how bad i am at getting to sleep alone...”

his knuckle accidentally brushes your navel. you shiver.

“…besides you weren’t there. i’ve missed having you around y/n, now that i see it.”

your skin flushes hot, lips involuntarily swelling into a smile. you turn your face into your pillow, determined to bury your happiness into the fluff.

“i’ve missed you too,” you confess.

his blunt nails graze against your flesh again, and you wonder how much of it was accidental anymore. could Chan tell? did he know how down bad you were for him?

“liar,” he whispers, squeezing your body lightly into his own.

he liked to do that, you had noticed. almost as if finding a way to inch closer, as if making up for the fact that there would always be some molecular distance between you no matter what.

or maybe you were just reading too much into it.

you place a hand over his own, fingertips drawing subtle lines into his pale skin, tracing the veins you stared at shamelessly in broad daylight.

“you really think i’d lie to you?”

“you wouldn’t?” he asks.

you turned around, facing him. your hand settles on his bare chest. you could feel his heart beat beneath your touch.

“no,” you confirm. “never.”

he smiles, his hair getting into his eyes as he puts his forehead against yours.

“okayyy,” he giggles. “tell me something then, since you claim to not lie.”

your heart picks up pace, hammering beneath your chest, and you were half afraid Chan might hear it. you swallow thickly, a small lump forming in your throat.

“yeah?”

his gaze wraps over you like a veil, clouding everything else just enough that he is all you can see.

"do you like me?" he whispers.

the question drops in your heart and sinks into your gut. you've been caught, red-handed. but you were so careful, so vigilant, looking but never for too long, complimenting him but being careful not to flirt, telling him you love him when he needed to hear it but taking care to conceal the love you felt.

you want to play it cool. you're scared of how it's going to go.

"duh," you say. "of course i like you, why else would we be friends?"

he clicks his tongue, a soft laugh escaping his lips. he drops a light kiss on your forehead and you sigh.

"you're not that naive," he states. "come on, I'll wait for you."

you feel your cheeks heat up. it gets harder by the second to stay still, not with chan's fingers rubbing warmth into your back, his face so close you could steal a kiss. he was no fool. he never had been. who did you think you were hiding from?

"i..." you begin, your mouth drying up. "yeah."

you feel his marble fingers slip under your chin. pressure, soft but commanding, forced you to look at him.

"you what, sweetheart?"

the endearment sent you spiraling. you squeeze his muscled shoulder, fingers digging into flesh.

"don't be an ass," you say. "i'm not gonna say it."

he chuckles. you watch his gaze move across your face, settle on your lips, and then back to your eyes again. you didn't want to think ahead of yourself.

you didn't want to break your heart.

he leaned in, his arm circling around your waist, his mouth leaving a soft kiss to your temple. you could die like this and it wouldn't be so bad.

"please," he whispers. "you said you'd be honest."

and who were you to turn down chan with his gentle voice and sturdy hands and body warmth and huge heart and ---? you could go on forever.

you grind your teeth together unconsciously, draw in a deep breath, and sigh. he knows you're giving in.

"i do like you," you admit finally. "so much more than a friend."

his palm slides up your back and finds your hair, long fingers gripping them and pulling you in. he smiles when he kisses you- mouth tasting of cinnamon and longing and want.

"fucking finally," he breathes. "you've got no idea how long i've waited for this."

you melt into a caramel puddle in his hands. you lean in again, pressing your lips onto his like he'd disappear, like this is all you've got.

taglist: @tinysoftie

NAVIGATION

join the taglist <3

#bangchan #bangchan x reader #bangchan fluff #bangchan skz #chan skz #chan x you #bangchan fic #bangchan headcanons #bangchan stray kids #chan fic #stray kids #skz #chan fluff #cuddling #best friends to lovers #bang chan #skz fluff #skz x reader #skz imagines

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kalinysu · 10 months

Note

💮 Hello, I was wondering if you could do a muzan × reader where they're married, so he's the demon king and she's the queen, and they have been together way before he was a demon, so he turned her. She's also pregnant, and he won't allow her to go on missions anymore. I would like to know if he would keep her by his side or would he lock her in her room. She can also walk in the sun. Please take your time. 💮

𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐏. — Muzan x F!Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Gentle Muzan with slightly harsh words, stubborn reader.

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: Very cute request! I’ve never written for Muzan and a pregnant wife, so it should be fun. Might rewrite, this was a little lazy 😭

“Darling, please lay down.” Muzan said with a sigh. You two had been going back and forth all night, and you were keeping him quite busy, busy enough to the point he had to ignore his other tasks and focus on you in the moment. “Stop!! Don’t you have any missions for me to do?— I mean, I can’t just lay here for 8 months straight.” You said, trying to sit up and get out of bed.

Muzan kept you away from the other demons, well more specifically Douma. He was far too handsy with you even if you were of a higher status and deserved just as much respect as Muzan. He preferred keeping you locked inside of his room when he couldn’t have you near him, such as when he worked on experiments or had meetings with the ranks. You were too distracting and required every of his attention, which he was willing to give when you two were alone and he wasn’t busy.

“Woman. Lay down, now.” Muzan said, furrowing his brow a bit. His hands were placed on your shoulders, occasionally switching to your waist, trying to be as gentle as possible with you even if his words weren’t. He let out a exhausted sigh, getting into bed with you. He then wrapped his arms around you, holding you just firm enough so you couldn’t get up from the bed. “Missions—“ You said, still trying to free yourself from his grasps. “Darling, I’ve made it clear that i’m not letting you go on any missions while your pregnant, go to sleep.” He said. He was right, besides, you hadn’t slept in days, but you wanted to do something, anything but be in this room.

“Let go—stop it! Stop!”

Muzan eventually had to lock you up inside of your room, not allowing you out at all. He had practically began to neglect you after the first few days of staying by your side. He did bring you human flesh to eat sometimes, and spend short amounts of time with you before going back to his work. If you got into too much trouble while on your own, he’d have Kokushibo or Akaza watch you. And they watched you like a hawk. They treated you as if you were a human, and any minor injury would be treated majorly.

Muzan wanted to be near you, but he just had too much to do. Today though,Muzan had come to check on you while you were asleep. But when you heard the door open, you forced yourself awake. You felt Muzan pull the blankets over your body completely, before placing a hand on your shoulder. “Muzan..?” You mumbled, turning over to look up at him. He gave you a small smile, before getting into bed beside you. “Upper 1 told me you were crying today. What’s wrong?” He asked, and you could barely believe it. You were about to slap him, but he had caught your wrist. He was just about to lecture and scold you, but you had burst out into tears before he could.

He didn’t know that this was also just your hormones affecting your mood, and thought you were just sad. “Darling, come here.” He said, sitting the both of you up and pulling you closer, allowing you to cry into his chest. “Y-you barely ever stay with me anymore!!” You sobbed, gripping his shirt. “My love, you know I have things to do..” He said, gently stroking your head. He was being honest, but there was another reason. He wasn’t sure how to take care of someone he actually cared for who was pregnant, so he resorted to locking you away to keep you safe and away from others.

“My apologies. I’ll take you with me from now on, how’s that sound, hm?” He asked with a smile when you finally calmed down a bit, tilting your head up to look at him. You sniffled, before nodding, wiping away your tears.

#demon slayer #kny #muzan #kimetsu no yaiba muzan #muzan x y/n #muzan x reader #muzan x you

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cupid-styles · 1 month

Text

casual

partially based on casual by chappell roan and a lil bit of sad personal experience hehe

word count: 2k

content warnings: angst (no happy ending), references to smut, alcohol, harry being a douche, not ramadan friendly

main masterlist | talk to me

. . .

From: H (12:47 a.m.)

Come over?

To: H (12:50 a.m.)

Give me 15

From: H (12:52 a.m.)

. . .

It’s not unusual for her nights to look like this. Or her early mornings, rather.

It wasn’t always this way. When she first met Harry, she wanted nothing to do with him romantically or intimately. She’d heard about his reputation — it wasn’t anything bad as long as you were looking for the same thing. He was an expert in bed and the friends that slept with him always provided rave reviews. Ever excited rumblings of, “oh my God, he’s so caring! He made me finish twice before he even took his cock out” and “he’s the perfect one night stand — seriously, I’ve never had anyone better.”

But Y/N didn’t care for that.

She was a serial monogamous, always bumping around from one lengthy relationship to the next. In hindsight, she supposes she wasn’t any better than Harry, who earned his notoriety from a series — a long series — of casual hookups.

If you needed a rebound, you went to Harry.

If you were going through a dry spell, you went to Harry.

If you were just horny and needed someone to go home with at the end of the night (and he hadn’t miraculously already found somebody else yet), you went to Harry.

And Y/N never planned to sleep with him. Ever, really. He was a fine friend, someone who mixed well with their mutual friends, but they hardly exchanged conversation except for the occasional nicetie. She had his phone number from when he planned Rachel’s surprise birthday party last year and they were friends on Venmo, passing back the same $20 every month for drinks or a shared Uber.

That was the extent of their friendship.

Until a few months back, when Y/N was down in the dumps. She’d been seeing this girl, Samantha, for a month or two, assuming that they were headed straight towards a happy, exclusive relationship — only to discover that Samantha was sleeping with and seeing just about 10 other people on the side. And it only came out because Samantha happened to contract chlamydia from one of her sexual partners, so she’d been forced to tell Y/N for the sake of her health.

Y/N's friends, Rachel, Maeve, and Len gave her time to wallow. They offered it to her on a silver platter, even, offering multiple girls nights out (and in), providing Y/N all the space she needed to cry and complain and talk about how hurt she felt.

But then… a week of moping turned into two, which turned into three, which eventually turned into a month and a half. Her friends were exhausted from watching her spiral into sadness, so they did the only thing they knew: They sat her down and told her she needed to rebound. Fast.

“And who the hell am I supposed to rebound with?” Y/N asked through a sniffle. The only thing that made this whole thing worse was her friends staging an intervention for her because she was being annoyingly sad about her not-really-breakup-but-felt-like-a-breakup. “See, that’s the best part of being friends with a man whore,” Maeve replied eagerly. Len and Rachel sat on either side of her with bright eyes, nodding excitedly. “Harry! He already said he’s down and everything!” “Wait— you already asked him?” “We just put the idea in his head. Don’t worry, men are stupid,” Len quickly waved her off, “But he’s going out with everyone tonight. We’ll feed you a few shots to get you just buzzy enough, and then send you off to your night in heaven. You won’t even remember that girl’s name by the time Harry’s done with you!” Y/N cringed. “Hasn’t, like… everyone slept with him though?” Maeve shrugged. “Yeah, but he’s clean. He gets regular testing and uses condoms. Really, Y/N, it’s sort of a rite of passage at this point. But you should do it only if you’re comfortable— don’t let us force you into it.” Y/N swallowed tightly. She had to admit, the thought of a rebound sounded… appealing. She’d swiped through dating apps looking for one, but she was too scared that a one night stand would end in her bloody murder. And it helped that Harry already knew what he was doing, and— wait, was she crazy or was she actually starting to consider this? “Alright, fine,” she replied with a shaky exhale, “Let’s do this.”

That was four months ago.

And what was supposed to be an evening of stupid, lusty, casual sex turned into Y/N falling hard. It wasn’t her fault, though — no, not when he panted breathy promises into her mouth in the back of the Uber, mumblings of “just tonight, you know that, right?”. She’d replied just how she’d rehearsed it in her brain hours prior: “yes, yeah, I know— just tonight. Just for tonight.”

"Just for tonight" shifted into Harry asking her to stay until the morning for breakfast and shower sex. Then, the following weekend, he texted her the ever classy you still awake? at just past midnight. She was indeed up, doing nothing but rotting on her couch and watching a documentary about the deep sea — and her hookup with Harry had been good, really good, and she wasn’t going to turn down another night of orgasms.

As he wrapped a condom around his dick and pressed messy kisses down her neck, he whispered the same hurried sentiments from the weekend before: “didn’t see anyone I wanted tonight and we were good, yeah? It was good. So just… just one more night, okay? That’s fine, right?”

Foolishly, with flittering eyelashes and her nails scraping down her back as he pushed inside, she nodded and echoed his words. Just one more night, that’s fine.

It didn’t take long for their friends to catch on when Harry would leave the bar an hour early without looking for someone to take home. Or, when they’d both be out and, like magnets slowly being pulled towards one another, they’d end up kissing on the street as they waited for an Uber to take them back to Harry’s place.

The guys hounded Harry about it, asking if Y/N was finally the one to tie him down.

“Nah,” he’d reply with a shake of his head, “She’s a good girl. Too good for me.”

When Y/N’s friends demanded to know every last detail, she shrugged.

"I'm not really sure. It's... good, I think."

They only responded with small, tight smiles.

. . .

“Your mom texted me today. She invited us to come see them this weekend.”

Harry doesn’t reply — or rather, he makes an unassuming humming noise — as he gets out of Y/N’s bed, untangling his naked form from her sheets. He hunts down his briefs and pulls them on before stretching his arms out.

“Did you eat dinner?” he asks, grabbing her tee-shirt off the floor and tossing it to her. She sits up, tightening the sheet around her chest. She shakes her head as she clutches the fabric of her shirt in her hands and watches him scroll on his phone.

“No. I thought we could get something.”

Harry hums again, pinching his bottom lip between his fingers. Swallowing, Y/N puts her shirt back on. She’s not sure why, but she always feels oddly vulnerable once they’ve finished hooking up. When she’s still naked and he’s already moved onto the next thing, like having plans with the guys or taking a shower before he heads home. She'd even purchased his favorite body wash and shampoo when he started sticking around a bit longer, but he'd never even mentioned it or uttered a thank you.

“Yeah, maybe,” he finally replies. He locks his phone and places it back on the ledge of the TV stand in her bedroom. The simple act makes her heart jump — usually, he’ll stuff his phone in his pocket as he’s leaving. Maybe he was planning on staying the night. “So listen, I know I took you to dinner at my parents’ place that one time, but I don’t really feel comfortable with you talking to my mom.”

Y/N furrows her brows in confusion. “She texted me, H. I don’t, like, regularly reach out to her.”

“Right, but it just makes this whole thing feel way more serious than it is.” he says, sitting back down on the bed. He maintains a steady distance between them and it makes a small lump form in Y/N’s throat.

“Okay,” she murmurs slowly, “That’s fine, I get it. But… we never really talked about what this is.”

Harry glances up with wide, confused eyes. “We’ve said it a million times, Y/N. This is casual. Completely and totally casual sex.”

An ugly, involuntary chortle leaves her chest. He raises his eyebrows.

“We’ve been fucking for four months. That’s not really casual.”

“Yes, it is. It’s friends with benefits.”

“Sure, maybe, but that’s if you explicitly outline that you’re just having sex. No feelings involved.”

“We did that.”

“When?”

“At the beginning,” Harry responds. He seems frustrated now, but it feels as though he’s recalling a memory that Y/N was never even around for. “Remember? I told you, it was all just for tonight type shit. Nothing real.”

“Then why the fuck did you take me to your parents’ house two months ago?” Y/N demands, anger rising in her chest, “And why am I your date to all of your stupid, boring work events? And why the hell are you at my house like four times a week, and why do you have a drawer full of my clothes at your place?”

“Y/N—”

“This isn’t fucking casual, Harry. This is dating. You’re dating me and you don't even realize it.”

“I would know if I was dating you, but I never asked you to be my girlfriend. I don’t want a girlfriend, you know that.”

She groans and shakes her head, ignoring the way her jaw already aches from clenching it so hard. She grabs a clear pair of underwear from her drawer and quickly slips them on. Harry’s silent the entire time.

Suddenly, she whips around and faces him. “Have you been fucking other people?”

A wrinkle forms between his brows. He shakes his head.

“No. I wouldn’t do that, and it’s unsafe.”

“Right,” she murmurs, placing her hands on her hips, “So piece it together, Harry. Neither of us are sleeping with other people. We’re exclusively seeing one another.”

“You’re just making this out to be way more of a thing than it is—”

“Oh, fuck off!” she exclaims, “You have a key to my house! That’s pretty serious!”

“I didn’t ask you for that!” he fires back as he stands up from the bed. They’re in a stand-off now, staring at one another with angry eyes. She snorts and shakes her head in disbelief.

“My friends were so fucking right about you. You’re such an asshole. You know Maeve called me a loser for thinking you were a good guy?”

Harry rolls his eyes as he grabs his phone and sweater, “Yeah, I’m sure.”

They don’t exchange any other words as he leaves her room. She sits back down on the edge of the mattress, listening as he stuffs his feet in his sneakers and slams the front door shut. She doesn’t even notice that tears are lining her eyes and falling onto the apples of her cheeks.

. . .

It’s barely 48 hours later when Y/N’s watching a YouTube video as she stands in the bathroom, doing her nighttime routine.

Like four months prior, when she hoped Harry would be a good rebound for her heartbreak, she's been moping around in self-hatred and sadness. She's in awe of how cruel and oblivious he's being, but more than that, she can't believe she actually believed he had real feelings for her. Ones that extended beyond sex.

She’s brushing her teeth when she notices a text notification come down, redirecting her attention from the influencer vlog to read the name of the sender. She taps on it to see a familiar initial.

From: H (10:32 p.m.)

Sorry for what I said. Can I come over?

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eversncenewyork · 2 years

Text

#my hold on myself/the reality of the situation weakened last night #last night T came over for charcuterie and wine and we played scrabbled #scrabble* which is what we did on our second date & the first time we slept together and it was just….really nice to have a parallel #i’ve never had a parallel before #and we just be vibin so well but whatever that’s not news #then later we were on my bed (pre sex) and he said very pensively ‘how would you feel about’#and then CUT HIMSELF OFF and got a drink of wine and pretended to forget what he was going to say #i did myself No favors by autocompleting his sentence mentally with ‘being my girlfriend’#bc i know that’s not what he was going to say but i made it reality for myself like a dummy #and then we had passionate and tender sex 3 times #and okay this is a lot #but after he made me c*m he was just like touching me and looking at my vagina #so jokingly i was like ‘how’s it look’#and no hesitation this motherfucker says ‘like a painting’#why would u say that #he’s like ‘i’m not romantic’ and then gets me my own bottle of sweet wine and says my pussy looks like fucking art #anyway he’s leaving for 2 weeks soon but either that will make me imagine him into someone he’s not #or give me time to chill out #my hunch is the former #also—regardless of the outcome of our relationship even if we are just fwbs—i think i’m starting to love him #so :/

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inuyashaluver · 20 days

Note

just read your newest alexia fic and it was fantastic!! please write more for her (ideally rivals x lovers but I don't really care what trope because both your alexia fics are fantastic so I'm sure I will be happy with any alexia fic you write!)

past reminders - alexia putellas

alexia putellas x reader

description: in which you and alexia rekindle a old flame you both thought was completely destroyed

warnings: angst but happy! mentions of past situationships, heartbreak, swearing, spanish in bold italics! suggestive content, long - BUCKLE IN

a/n: i’ve been itching to write this lmao, thank you so much, my love!! i’m a sucker for enemies to lovers no word of a lie, please enjoyyyyy xx❤️

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

if someone was to describe the relationship between you and alexia, it was simply pure hatred.

to put it quite simply, you fucking despised each other, and you both thought it was for good reason.

—

even though yours and alexia’s pit of hatred ran deep, it wasn’t always like this. you and alexia were originally best friends, going back to years and years of friendship ever since the both of you were 7.

the two of you were inseparable, playing football together, going to school together, spending each and every afternoon together. it was the best, you truly had so much love for each other, twin flames that couldn’t be put out.

as the years went on, you and alexia grew older. and as the two of you grew together, so did affection bubbling under the surface. you and alexia had feelings for each other and never said anything of it.

well until one day at 19, you and alexia were hanging out at her house after training for barcelona, both of you getting signed at the same time after your booming success in the spanish teams.

you and alexia were side by side on her bed, the both of you giggly as you chatted and debriefed, even though you saw each other at every moment.

you weren’t exactly sure how the conversation started but alexia brought up that she hasn’t slept with anyone yet. your eyes were so wide at the conversation and her forwardness, not really comprehending what was going on out of pure shock.

you both knew you hadn’t your first times yet and alexia proposed something that took your breath away.

“if we sleep together for our first time, it’ll be good practice for later” alexia said like it was nothing, turning her head to look over at you. your cheeks were bright red, refusing to look her in the eye,

“ale” you breathe out nervously, “it’ll just be one time, friendly sex, nothing more” her body moved to perch up on her elbow, looking at you expectantly, “i trust you the most”

you glance over at her and harshly swallow the lump in your throat, alexia’s eyes drifted to where your neck had movement and smirked gently.

“one time?” you say so softly, alexia almost couldn’t hear it, she chuckles with a nod, her finger lightly tracing along your arm, smirking when goosebumps trailed on your skin.

“mhm, nena (babe), one time” she grabs your hand gently, her smirk only growing when you nod slowly “okay”, she kisses the corner of your mouth,

“mamá and alba aren’t home tonight” she whispered, reading your mind before her hand slipped up your shirt.

“don’t be nervous, it’s just me” she smiles softly, your breath hitched when she presses her lips to yours, moving together messily before her tongue licked into your mouth, a groan escaping the back of her throat when your hands carded through her hair and gently tugged.

—

and to put it simply, it wasn’t a one time thing. it was regular. very regular. almost every night. especially when she moved out of her mother’s house and had her own apartment.

alexia refused to put a label on anything. you were her best friend and nothing more, it was casual, platonic sex in her mind. and unfortunately for you, your heart yearned for her. you loved her, how could you not?

your heart would lurch at how kind she was after sleeping with you, kissing you affectionately and always cleaning you up afterwards with utmost care and diligence.

“so beautiful” she’d whisper, pressing gentle kisses along the length of your nose before pecking your lips multiple times.

alexia would send you suggestive smirks when she saw you at training, her eyes lingering as you changed and making sure to wink at you whenever you’d watch her change.

she would touch you more than necessary yet no one caught on. her hands would linger on your hips or waist as she moved passed you, giving you subtle kisses when you’d get a goal or just played well.

alexia was a very affectionate person, so everyone just thought the two of you were doing your regular best friend routine, unaware that alexia would drag you to her apartment almost every night to leave you breathless, marked up and shaky at the knees.

she was still your best friend of course, she just saw it as an added bonus. but for you, you wanted to call her yours, for you to be hers but the catalan didn’t want that.

she’d tell you almost every moment she could, “you’re my best friend” a chip in your heart that only grew bigger as the years progressed.

this went on for years, almost 5 consecutively and it was shocking no one caught on. she didn’t just sleep with you, she slept with other girls and you knew that but she’d always come back to you.

“they’re not you, they don’t know me like you” she’d tell you like clockwork, always making your heart a little fuzzy when you knew it shouldn’t.

it was torcherous for you, you tried to stop giving into her every time, but she’d give you those puppy dog eyes as she interlaced your hands together and you were done for.

and funnily enough, everything came to a stop when alexia got a girlfriend. when alexia got a girlfriend, she threw you away at the expense of her girlfriend’s words, “why do you need a best friend when you have me?” and because alexia ‘loved’ this girl, she dropped you.

she never returned your calls, she only talked to you at training when it was necessary. she wanted nothing to do with you. it killed her and you.

the once happy, bubbly duo went through an extremely dark stage at this point. you filling the void with random girls from team bonding nights at clubs and always regretting it later.

and whenever you would, alexia would fucking rip you apart over it. even after weeks of not talking.

“you look a little desperate, no?” she spat out as she walked up next to you at the bar. “fuck off” you glare at her, about to move away before she grabbed your wrist and pulled you back,

“it’s pathetic” she stares down at you, you roll your eyes in response. alexia could be with other people but god forbid you did.

“you’re pathetic, you can be with someone and i can’t?” you laugh humorously, alexia’s gaze growing colder by the second, a contrast from the warm alexia you loved so much.

“i have a girlfriend, i'm not throwing myself at anyone” another chip at your heart. from then on, alexia was truly nothing to you. you pushed her away harshly, promising that she wouldn’t have to see you anymore.

you left in a rush that night, making an effort to text your manager that you wanted to transfer in the upcoming window. so when the contract for madrid came along, you accepted.

—

you didn’t mind madrid, it was good for you. you were away from alexia and were actually strengthening your playing style and making some friends. and for you, a bonus was how mad it made alexia.

whenever madrid and barcelona would verse each other, people would definitely notice how much you and alexia hated each other.

the filthy looks said it all and not to mention the harsh words and dangerous tackles that would be made by the both of you.

when your spanish teammates would come over to you with bright smiles and warm hugs, you loved to watch alexia’s pissed off expression.

she’d get pissed when you wouldn’t even hug her as congratulations, you would shake her hand dismissively and take yours back like hers was made of fire. and yeah, maybe you were being a little childish, but she was too.

“you won’t die if you touch me, you know? but it’s fine when you fucking push me to the ground everytime i get the ball” she’d grit out, only make you grin in satisfaction,

“poor alexia, tell your girlfriend to kiss you better” you pout sarcastically, making an effort to bump her shoulder with yours as you walked past. you knew alexia was currently single, but you knew she hated when you brought up the girl. so you did it frequently.

you’d both get worried expressions from teammates after each time you interacted with each other, gaining a dismissive wave from both of you.

no one knew what happened, and you wouldn’t tell anyone what happened, and neither would alexia.

so everyone had to deal with the two of you being insufferable whenever in the same vicinity.

—

during camp for spain, you’d both give each other hell. it didn’t matter if you were on the same team, the arguing actually got worse.

“your passes are sloppy” alexia would say when you touched the ball, making you roll your eyes with a groan.

“okay, la reina (the queen), sorry we’re not all perfect” you narrow your eyes at her, making a show of kicking the ball harshly to her, hitting her shin as you sent her a sticking sweet smile.

she hated that that nickname when it fell from your mouth, wanting to just wipe that fucking smile off your face.

“don’t be jealous” alexia says smugly, you scoff at that, crossing your arms over your chest, “i would never be jealous of you” you look her up and down, the two of you approaching each other slowly as the argument heightened.

“oh really? isn’t that why you moved to madrid, couldn’t handle that i was better?” she’s up close to you now, your chests mere centimetres away from each other.

you breathe heavily as you look up at her, “yeah, i did move to madrid to get away from you” you argue, making her chuckle condescendingly, “good to see you have no loyalty” she darts her eyes between yours, trying to rile you up and it was certainly working.

“you want to talk about loyalty? remember you dropped me all those years ago?” you laugh in disbelief, body tingling with how close alexia was to you, a vast contrast to what you would do in the past at this proximity.

“i had my reasons” she says warningly, not wanting to get into this subject in the middle of training. “yeah, don’t worry i remember the texts, ‘i can’t be around you anymore, sorry’” you mock her,

“all because of that fucking girlfriend of yours, you dropped years of friendship with me” you send her an icy glare, one she was quick to return, “again with the jealousy” she mocks, you’re quick to give her a shove, “fuck off, putellas” you grit, alexia comes right back, her eyes boring into yours.

“you’re a child” she challenged, “excuse me?” you bite back, “you’re. a. child.” she breaks down each word intentionally, making sure it lingered in your ears. you’re both heavy breathing at this point, faces dangerously close to each other.

“i’m the child? you’re the fucking child, alexia!” you exclaim, now mapi and jenni coming over to separate the two of you.

“you’re both children, enough” jenni warns, pushing alexia by the chest away from you as mapi held you back.

“best friends for years and now you can’t even talk to each other like adults” mapi scolds, you and alexia sending each other glares and mouthing insults at each other.

“she knows what she did” you spat out, letting ona drag you away. alexia watched as you left, sighing heavily when her mind raced with all those good times you had. she missed you, dearly. she was just terrible at showing it.

—

it was childish for the both of you, but alexia had broken your heart so many times, you felt like you were just protecting your peace.

alexia did feel bad for the way she dropped you, she did love you, truly as much as you did with her. but she couldn’t bring herself to put a label on things with you just out of pure fear.

at first, she didn’t want to lose you, alexia wanted to shield you from everything bad in the world and tell you everything was going to be okay with a kiss.

but alexia thought she fell in love with her ex girlfriend and listened to her, even when she had feelings for you.

she didn’t know how harsh the consequences would be. losing you completely tore out a piece of her soul.

—

it was during a random match between madrid and barcelona in 2020 where things took a shift, just before off-season. the score was neck and neck, a typical harsh match between the rivals.

you and alexia still ‘hated’ each other but were much more tame about it, just choosing to ignore each other rather than outwardly argue.

you were on the ball when a defender from barcelona came up from behind you out of no where, making you attempt to dodge around her until a sharp pain shot up your knee. a pop.

you went down with a piercing scream, the sold out stadium going quiet at you clutching your knee in pain. and funnily enough, the first person to you was alexia.

“move away from her” she spat out, her hand coming to the back of your head and placing it on her thigh. you weren’t even comprehending who it was at this point, just enveloped by the comforting scent that once gave you a sense of home.

“you’re okay” she breathes out, cradling your head to her stomach as you cried out, “ale, my knee” you choked out, alexia hushes you, her thumb brushing your cheek as she held you close, waiting for the medics to come arrive.

once they were assessing you, alexia was about to move but you clutched her hand, “no-” you start, “just, stay for a second” you look up at her pleadingly, she nods, her hand giving you a gentle squeeze.

once you got told the dreaded three letters, your tears started again, rolling down your cheeks as you held onto alexia. she welcomed the contact like a second nature, both of you gaining a sense of security you hadn’t had in years.

“breathe” she says softly as you get situated on a stretcher, “you’re okay, i promise” she says while looking right into your eyes.

you feel like you’re 19 again, absolutely head over heels for this girl, some of those old feelings lingering in the pit of your stomach.

you get carried off and barcelona wins the match, alexia comes to find you without a second thought. she takes a deep breath before you she knocks on the door of the physio room, hearing a sniffle and a soft “come in”.

“hey” she swallows, hovering near the door as she saw you with your knee braced and iced. “you can come inside” you chuckle, alexia stiffens but walks in, sitting in a chair next to you as you stare up at the ceiling.

“i have surgery in two days” you blurt out, alexia never takes her eyes off you, watching as some tears still roll down your cheeks. “who’s taking you?” she questions softly, you let out a deep sigh.

“i haven’t gotten that far yet, my knee just popped” you tease, making alexia smile softly. the both of you never thought you’d be this civil after all this time.

“i’ll take you” alexia said simply, your head snaps to where she was, “i can’t ask you to do that” you stumble out,

“you’re not, i’m offering” alexia shrugs, “then i can’t accept your offer” alexia huffs in annoyance, “fine, it’s not an offer, it’s happening” alexia says sternly, you knew there was nothing to argue about.

there was no way you could go all the way to madrid in your condition, staying in barcelona for surgery was just a no brainer at this point.

“are you sure?” you say hesitantly, “positive” she says earnestly, smiling at you gently while you returned an appreciative one.

alexia forced you to stay at her house, getting your stuff from the hotel and setting you up in her guest room. it was a little awkward, not really knowing how to converse with a girl you’ve known for years of your life yet was your borderline enemy for years as well.

though with a little help of your injured knee, alexia and you managed to chip away at that awkwardness.

when you woke up extra sleepy from surgery, alexia gave you a comforting smile as you came to your senses, only leaving the hospital room if it was completely necessary.

“how are you feeling?” alexia said softly as she adjusted the pillow behind your head, fussing with the blankets until you swatted her hand away with a soft laugh.

“i’m fine, calm down” alexia drops the blanket with a sheepish grin and sat down on the chair next to you,

“ale?” you breathe out, she hums as she looked up at you, “thank you” you look over at her, her eyes are a little glossy but you chose to dismiss it.

“you don’t have to thank me, you’d do it for me” she smiles, you nod slowly, it was true, no matter how much you thought you disliked her throughout the years, you would help her in a heartbeat. no matter the time or place.

suddenly you start laughing and alexia gives you a questioning smile, “sorry i just,” you start, turning your head to look at her properly, “i didn’t think this would be happening after all these years” alexia nods along with your words with a little chuckle,

“i’m surprised you haven’t bitten my head off yet” she teases, “never say never, putellas” you warn teasingly, both of you laughing together in a little moment of solitude.

—

alexia was incredibly patient with you when you got discharged from the hospital, walking beside you with your crutches at your pace while sending you encouraging words and smiles.

“take your time” she says as she hovers next to you, ready to catch you if you fell. she helped you into the car and literally carried you into her apartment despite your protests to save time, wanting you to rest on the couch as soon as possible.

she was grateful about the time off, she doesn’t think she’d be able to train or play without you clouding her mind. she finally felt like she got you back, even if it was just a tiny piece.

she elevated your knee and tucked you in with warm blankets, making you a tea and sitting next to you as she encouraged you to put on something to watch.

her heart warmed when you put an old childhood favourite of both of you. a wave of nostalgia hitting you both. she kept glancing at you every couple of seconds,

you both laughed with each other at the movie, subconsciously quoting some parts of it with each other and recounting old memories. suddenly a wave of sadness hits alexia because she realised how much she’d lost.

when you realised she stopped laughing along with you, you glance at her nervously and give her a worried expression.

“are you okay?” you say softly, alexia shakes her head, tears pricking at her eyes seeing your soft features, you gesture to her to come closer and she sits on the couch facing you, the tears rolling down her face as she sniffled.

“ale, what’s wrong?” you place a hand on her thigh and she flinches, you pull it away slightly but she holds onto it instead.

“i’m so sorry” she chokes out, looking at you tearfully, you can feel your heart break a little at how she was crying, your eyebrows furrow in concern,

“what-” you start before she interrupts, “no, please let me speak” she sniffs, gripping into your hand tightly,

“i’m so stupid, there aren’t enough words to tell you how sorry i am for letting you go the way i did, you didn’t deserve that” she begins,

“i was clueless for listening to my ex, you were there for me through everything and i put you aside like you were nothing” she blubbered, each word clutching your heart.

your own tears begin to escape your tear ducts, “but you’re not nothing, you’re everything, you were my everything and i let you go when i wanted you, i’ve wanted you forever” she pronounced, looking right at you to make sure you heard everything she said.

“i love you, i always have” she expressed, your mouth hung open a little at the three words. silence settled over the two of you, hands still tightly interlaced.

“i love you too” you admit, alexia’s face lights up, only you shake your head for a moment, “alexia, you need to understand that you really hurt me, and i know i fucked up too, we both did” you start,

“if we were to give this another try, it needs to be slowly” you fiddle with the blanket on top of you, the two of you are still crying, still not believing this situation was real.

she agrees without hesitation, “i’ll do anything you want me to, hermosa (beautiful)” she breathes out.

her free hand moves to wipe a stray tear off your cheek, making you give her a wet laugh before you pulled her into an awkward positioned hug but you both didn’t mind, you’d both finally woken up to yourselves. you loved each other.

—

for the next few weeks, you and alexia grew closer and closer, finally falling back into that special relationship you had with each other.

it was going slow for about two days until the both of you broke under pressure and just gave into each other, acting more like a couple than you ever have.

“hi, bebé (baby)” alexia cheeses out when she sees you sitting on the couch, you crane your head back to look at her, giving her an affectionate smile that she was quick to return.

she presses a sweet kiss to your lips, a languid kiss that had you both sighing into each other's mouths.

she pulls away from you with an exaggerated peck to make you laugh, plopping down beside you and directing your head to her shoulder, you cuddle into her with a satisfied smile, her scent calming you down instantly.

—

it wasn’t a surprise that once you were fully recovered from your acl, you made your return to barcelona. once you made your comeback, you and alexia weren’t hiding anything anymore.

it felt good to claim each other as your partner, an endless amount of support sent your way.

you and alexia were quite literally joint at the hip once you finally moved in together, barely any time wasted when it came to the two of you, alexia claiming you needed to make up for ‘lost time’.

with the amount of devotion alexia gave to you, you forgave her, it took a while but you both wanted to move on from it, a fresh start for the both of you.

some of your teammates in the spanish team still found it hilarious when they found out why the two of you hated each other, still finding it a little baffling to see you so loved up at training.

—

“ale” you send her a half hearted glare as she sat in her cubby watching you get changed for a national game.

“yes, bebita (baby girl)” she grins at you smugly, you cross your arms over your chest, walking over to her and giving her a challenging expression. she grabs your hips and tugs you forward, making you sit sidewards on one of her thighs.

“not funny, where is it?” she chuckles at your mock anger, pressing tender kisses to the underside of your jaw,

“where is what?” she mumbles against your skin, you squirm slightly when she reaches your pulse point, slapping her hand that was now squeezing your thigh.

“my jersey” you groan, alexia lets out a little laugh, kissing your cheek repeatedly, “it’s right there” she points out, suddenly you stand up, grabbing her hand and making her stand in front of your cubby, looking at her expectantly.

“what does that say?” you point at the jersey hung up, “putellas?” she grins, “smart girl, who’s jersey is that?” you try not to laugh, “yours” she smiles wider, her hand dropping yours to wrap around your waist, making you stand in front of her as she continued to kiss your cheek softly.

“in case you forgot, that’s not my last name” you say amusingly, feeling her smiling against your skin as she gave you a gently squeeze.

“it will be soon” she grins, flipping you around so you could face her, “propose first” you say cheekily, patting her cheek with your hand. she turns her hand to kiss your palm, a silent promise that it was happening soon. (happened a week later)

“you’re no fun,” she pouts mockingly, reaching above you to retrieve the jersey that actually said your name on it, giving you a shit eating grin as she watched you get changed.

“children” mapi and jenni say at the same time, watching as alexia pulled you into another kiss that took all the breath out of your lungs.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill - pretend it’s you! ily jenni x

liked by ona.batlle and 44,232 others

alexiaputellas: she thinks she’s the boss

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yourname: i am the boss

↳ alexiaputellas: it’s so cute how you think you are bebita (baby girl)

↳ yourname: i literally am?

↳ jennihermoso: oh she definitely is

↳ marialeonn16: 100% is

↳ alexiaputellas: a bunch of traitors

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

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theoldsports · 5 months

Text

Moody.

Coriolanus Snow x Reader | 3.3k words

depression, arguing, manipulation/toxic marriage, fucking each other over, possessiveness. it’s tamer than some of my others in an objective sense, but emphasizes dark thoughts and internal monologue.

requests always open! thanks for your kindnesses. i think this one is more experimental than the others. the objective here was to show how both of them mimic regular human feelings because they know they should, but it’s a poor pantomime. two sickos with nothing else but each other <3 i think i am going to call these works the Truculent series.

Coriolanus grew cold fast and did not tolerate heat well. He only slept only in his underclothes and wore heavy layers at the first sight of winter. His alarmingly fair complexion meant excessive sun wasn’t in the cards. In spite of his name, his scrappy build wasn’t meant to cut through harsh January terrain either. His nails chipped at labor, and his mind grew uneasy at laziness.

The world was tough on Coriolanus and he was tough right back on the word.

There was little Coriolanus was designed to do. Many people were strong, or smart, or wealthy, or drop-dead-gorgeous, or violent, or talented. There was something about every person Coriolanus could think of that made them stand out. He could easily categorized people by them. Here was the group of people known for their beautiful voices; here, those who could benchpress four-hundred pounds… Coriolanus could not be quantified like that.

Coriolanus Snow had to take what was left, like a runt. He was only good at two things: enduring and controlling. Since those were the only options leftover for him, Coriolanus became the best at them both. When, like Coriolanus, one has been gifted such shitty talents and nothing else, they have to figure out how to use them well enough to win against everyone with a better gift. Eventually, he realized his talents were not the ability to endure and the ability to control, but actually the ability to win. Eventually, he won so much, Coriolanus forgot there was ever a time when he lost (most days).

(The days he didn’t forget were the Bad Days).

Coriolanus felt like he couldn’t get out of bed on the Bad Days when the crushing weight of his failures and his ego landed across his chest. He told himself he was done with love after Lucy Gray. Disgusting Lucy Gray, a name he never wanted to even think again. He thought he would marry someone he hated and be done with love.

But junkies and addicts quit every Monday anyway.

Once he found [Y/N] again after their childhood together, there was no quitting. He knew it was bad for him, so he married what was bad for him to make sure he had an endless supply. How he hated that familiar feeling of obsession, the feeling of being so desperate that he had to rely on something other than himself. Somehow, he would have to sustain the feeling without losing his girl like an idiot. Marriage was likely the thing to steel their attempt at a bond.

Upon waking up to the alarm that morning, Coriolanus knew this was one of those Bad Days. Maybe it was the weather, the stress of Games. First year as head Gamemaker had almost driven Coriolanus mad under the pressure to succeed. He reached over to turn off the clock that buzzed painfully at six in the morning every day ending with a Y.

“Coryo…” [Y/N] mumbled, hearing him stir beside her. The sound must have woken her. She tossed an arm over his chest.

“‘Mornin’, Darling,” Coriolanus replied, wishing he were dead.

[Y/N] immediately picked up on the flatness of his tone, but she knew better than to push him too far. “All good?” She asked.

Coriolanus grumbled passively. He rarely did anything passively. Coriolanus grabbed the hand over his chest and dragged it up to the side of his face to rest it there, but only after he had kissed [Y/N] palm.

“You’re affectionate this morning.”

“I just missed you. I’ve been busy.” He said dismissively, pressing his face further into her hand.

“Well, thanks, dear, but don’t you have work?” [Y/N] asked. She propped her chin up on his shoulder to stare at him inquisitively. This attitude was odd. First thing in the morning during Games seasons, she got a kiss on the forehead and then Coriolanus was gone for a run and a shower and out til nightfall, barring special occasions.

“Don’t you?”

“Not til early evening today. Normally, you’re up and out of here first thing on a Tuesday morning,” [Y/N] told him, as she rubbed from his cheek to the side of his throat gently. She dragged her hand up his face to rest on his worried forehead. “You sick, or something?”

“No.” Coriolanus replied weakly. He closed his eyes again. He couldn’t face the legendary blunder he had made at work. Coriolanus had allowed his aides to code the program for the arena wrong. The open water was nowhere near as deep as was needed for the aquatic muttations. It was causing all sorts of trouble. The Games would end too fast if he didn’t do something, yet the stress of thinking of reaching across the nightstand for his Communicuff was paralyzing.

“You sure? You don’t feel feverish,” She confirmed. [Y/N] sat up to press her lips to his forehead just in case her cold hands had misread his temperature. “I can call the doctor, though.”

“[Y/N], stop. I’m fine.” Coriolanus lied harshly. He tried to sit up, but his psychological anguish made him feel like vomiting.

“Call in. Stay here.” She suggested, watching his weak movement to sit up.

“I’m head Gamemaker, I don’t get to call in. I need to go for a run’n I’ll be fine.”

[Y/N] raised an eyebrow. “So you aren’t currently fine? Because you said—“

“I know what the fuck I said, okay?” Coriolanus barked. “Wanna recap anything else, or can I go?”

Sharply, [Y/N] scooted away from him to the other side of the bed. His moods were hardly predictable. She sighed. “Fine,” She said, averting her eyes to her hands like a scolded girl. “I was merely concerned that you—“

Coriolanus scoffed at her and shakily stood up from the bed. He quickly stepped into the closet and stepped joggers and a wifebeater. [Y/N] hoped he would grab a jacket as well; the weather was much too cold for mid summer. The Capitol itself got disproportionately cold often. She didn’t say anything out loud, though. “Get off my ass. Can’t you sit there and be grateful for once? With all that I do for you?Fucking hell.” Coriolanus said. He did not so much as look back at her as he stormed out of the bedroom.

[Y/N] could not understand what she had done wrong. The only things she had were provided through Coriolanus or simply the man himself. Once Coriolanus was presumed out of earshot, [Y/N] dropped her head into her hands and cried. Not tears of frustration or anger, but tears of self-pity that her one lifeline had yelled at her like that.

—

By the time Coriolanus returned from his run, it appeared his wife had gone out for the day. Strange since she usually capitalized on the extra sleep if she was not working downtown with Capitol News until evening shift. Since their reckless young adulthood of media stunts, Coriolanus had watched [Y/N] grow a stifling love for spectacle. With his support and their shared deranged name recognition, she had quickly risen from an editor, to a correspondent (brief. He had helped her but her way up and out of that position) to Associate Head of Programming for Capitol News. It helped to have his wife steer both their media narratives from the inside.

Except for when she was mad at him.

Coriolanus wiped the sweat off his brow in the shower as he thought. There was no doubt in his mind that [Y/N] was going to run some sort of primetime bulletin that made him look a fool during his Games coverage that night. It was bad enough that Lucky Flickerman was beginning to look like botox had gotten better of him, in addition to Coriolanus’ own fuck up with the muttations. Fact of the matter was that viewership was down and [Y/N] was going to make it worse. She was going to make his Bad Day worse and he knew it.

He could feel his heart rate racing as he stood under the shower’s cold stream. His equally cold blue eyes glanced across the bathroom at the clock. Six-fifty AM. Realistically, he need to be into the Gameroom by no later than eight-thirty, but it frustrated him to be in later than eight. In roughly an hour, how could he perform the maximum amount of damage control? Coriolanus’ head began to ache at the thought.

She had never run that harsh of a piece on him before, but it was a Bad Day, and no doubt she was angry with him for his attitude. [Y/N] was capable of a great many horrible things. Wouldn’t Coriolanus himself want to sting somebody back who he had known was pissy with him?

When he exited the shower, Coriolanus rushed to dress himself. [Y/N] said she wasn’t working until late. But where, then, had she gone? With all the thinking about his own feelings, he hadn’t considered that conundrum.

—

Coriolanus called her secretary, a boring woman with a name neither man nor wife could recall. According to that woman, [Y/N] had not gone early to work. He rang Tigris. Tigris said [Y/N] had not been over unless she was lying which Coriolanus wouldn’t put past her. The Plinths swear they had not encountered her.

Coriolanus stared down at his datapad of phone numbers. He refrained from calling all of their friends because he didn’t want to to exude the panic he was starting to feel for letting his wife run away. None of her belongings seemed out of place. Her suitcase was present in the back of their closet. Still, Coriolanus was terrified in the back of his mind that his wife had finally left him. A year and half was a dreadful lifespan for a marriage in his opinion. [Y/N] was not getting away that easily.

However, his watch told him it was eight and the Games weren’t going to run themselves.

Throughout the day, Coriolanus could not get his heart rate to settle. It made him feel ill. So ill, in fact, that he couldn’t keep down most of breakfast, or all of lunch. He skipped dinner all together. Who was [Y/N] to up and leave him like that?

The slight rational segment of his brain told him to walk it back, but the rest of his brain paid no mind. Coriolanus had nothing going for him other than gut instincts and his gut instincts now were implying something was fundamentally wrong.

Coriolanus’ decision-making was way off of its game at work. Coriolanus, for ratings, could not allow the Hunger Games to end on a Tuesday night. Somehow, he would have to create obstacles to last the four remaining tributes til Friday. He didn’t much like those odds. He was going to cave and hand in his resignation before the end of the day, he was certain.

Though, at eight in the evening, the primetime announcement or chiron that Coriolanus was a shitty husband or a murderer never cut through his broadcast to make his Day irreparably Bad. Nor did it at eight-thirty, or even nine. Coriolanus felt shaky. Maybe with relief for his reputation, maybe because he had nothing in his system.

If nothing had aired at Coriolanus’ expense on TV, had something happened to [Y/N] while he was on his run, or later? Was this some rebel attempt to bring the head Gamemaker to his knees? An attempt from a bitter rival to play games with him? Coriolanus frowned. Many things could have happened to his wife between six in the morning and nine at night. Coriolanus could barely stand up as it was. He clocked out and summoned his driver as quick as he could.

The second Coriolanus’ key entered the lock, he started shouting with the energy he had left. The door had yet to even close behind him. “[Y/N]! [Y/N], my love! Are you here?” Coriolanus pushed open every cabinet and closet on his way to the bedroom. Empty. He checked the closet - her suitcase remained. Coriolanus had called her office on his way home. She had not shown up for work. Unheard of.

Coriolanus ran through every room of the townhouse shouting [Y/N]’s name over and over until he felt hoarse. He could only imagine what the neighbors thought. Then he saw the attic door open.

The door remained open, but the stairs to the attic had snapped back up halfway and gotten jammed. “Coryo!” He heard [Y/N] yell faintly from upstairs.

“Darling, are you… in the attic?” Coriolanus shouted back cautiously under the open door. He watched as [Y/N]’s tearstained face peered around the edges of the attic door. It was really her. Not a Jabberjay, not a setup. Coriolanus exhaled for what felt like the first time all day. “Let me come up. I’ll come to you. Hold on!” Coriolanus’ finally left behind the Bad Day as he leapt into action. Protecting his wife was his job before Gamemaker, or any other obligation. Anyone in the Capitol would remember their vows, or her smashing cake into his face much to his dismay. Marriage was socially his most binding contract of all. Coriolanus did not take contractional obligations lightly.

Coriolanus had not realized that his wife was so delicate and helpless as to get stuck in the attic. She needed him more than he thought. His heart swelled with pride. Coriolanus grabbed a broomstick and hooked the hinge in the stairs. He yanked with all his strength until the ladder descended. Quickly, he dropped a large sack of rice from the kitchen counter over the bottom step in hopes it would weight the stairs down and he took off up them.

“[Y/N], are you alright?” Coriolanus asked, popping his head through the attic door

There on the unfinished attic floor sat [Y/N], bundled up in her thin teddy she had been wearing when Coriolanus left. She had only that and a too-short blanket Tigris had crocheted as a child. There was very little in the attic at all. Some of the Grandma’am’s belongings in clear glass bins and whatever surviving relics had carried on from their post-war childhoods.

It was clear [Y/N] had been crying. “I thought you would come back.” She sniffled.

Coriolanus urgently climbed the rest of the way up the ladder and sat carefully down beside [Y/N], wrapping her in his long arms possessively. “I thought something happened to you,” Also, that you tried to leave me. “You’re freezing… How long have you been up here?”

“Since you went on your run.”

“Shit… All that time?”

[Y/N] thought her tears had long since stopped, but seeing Coriolanus appear upset about ignoring her all day made her want his attention more. She wanted him to feel bad.

The tears started flowing the second his arms were looped around her waist. [Y/N] rested her head on Coriolanus’s shoulder heavily. “Coryo, you just left. I come up here all the time to think and I didn’t think it would—“

The blonde man’s heart softened at the sight of her. “Darling, Darling, shh, don’t cry,” Coriolanus combed his hand through sobbing [Y/N]’s hair. “You’re okay. I’m here now.”

Coriolanus felt like he was able to play the role of comforter and protector nobly tonight in a way he had recently felt inadequate at. With ease, he draped her legs across his lap and adjusted her arms around his neck so that her body was completely supported by his. She clung to him like a desperate child. The skin-to-skin contact was most appreciated by Coriolanus after the Day he’d had. Coriolanus excitedly drew a breathe from her neck, taking in her scent.

[Y/N] sobbed dramatically into Coriolanus’ dress shirt, but he pretended not to care like a good husband. “I’m sorry. I c-couldn’t—couldn’t get down. I th-thought you would come get me. I shout-ted for you,” she played up her tears. [Y/N] played up everything for attention; they both knew that. But the situation was mutually beneficial for people that liked attention so damn much. “You didn’t hear me.” You never hear me.

“Oh, Princess…” Coriolanus rubbed his hands up and down her arms, hoping it would warm her up. He pulled away from her regrettably and stripped off his blazer. He wrapped it around her shoulders and pulled it carefully in front of her. He knew [Y/N] would like the gesture. Now, Coriolanus did not say I’m sorry. It was not his fault that [Y/N] had fled to the attic. He did instead try to make good from now forward. “I was so worried, I started to think something happened to you. I wanted to give you space, but then I didn’t hear from you all day. I’m relieved to know the only monster that got you was the attic,” Coriolanus leaned into her neck to kiss her in his favorite place. “You sat up here in all this junk and dust today; how are you still so stunning?”

[Y/N] laughed through a wet sniffle as Coriolanus searingly kissed her neck. “I didn’t know I’d worried you this much.” She muttered.

“I didn’t know I’d upset you this much,” Coriolanus agreed. That was as close to I’m sorry as she was going to get. “What did you do up here all day?”

“W-Went through some boxes. Found your old uniform.” [Y/N] smiled back.

“My Peacekeeper uniform?” Coriolanus asked in surprise. He hoped that she had not found anything else, if there was anything more scathing up in the attic.

“Mhm,” she affirmed. [Y/N] stood shakily from the floor, snot dripping from her nose. Snot, which she knew better than to wipe on the sleeve of his blazer. She followed where the beams were in the floor nimbly so she didn’t put her foot through the ceiling below her. [Y/N] collected a decently sized metal crate with a handle on it. PRIVATE SNOW, CORIOLANUS B. was stamped on top of the dusty, dented metal. She carried it back to Coriolanus and sat down with it in front of him.

“I didn’t go through everything in here, that felt intrusive, but I did pull this out,” they both knew that was a lie and that she had absolutely gone through every item, but Coriolanus let her keep going without cutting in. [Y/N] decided she would still let him explain the history behind every item he wanted to share anyway.

When she shook the long gray-blue jacket out of the box, something happened that hadn’t happened last time she took the jacket out. “Coriolanus, what’s this?” [Y/N] asked, plucking a bulky chain off the floor that had tumbled from the coat’s breast pocket.

“Ah, I’d forgotten where those went. Dog tags from my time in Twelve.” Coriolanus said.

“I still have my father’s. You were like a real soldier then, huh?”

“Peacekeeper.” Coriolanus corrected.

“Yes, Peacekeeper.” [Y/N] agreed quietly.

[Y/N] held the two identical pendants in her hands.

SNOW, CORIOLANUS

CITADEL, CAPITOL

4147769218S 12

O NEG

CREMATE

His entire identity all on two pieces of nickel. While she squinted at the embossed metal, Coriolanus leaned forward across the box that had once held his entire world and grabbed the chain she was holding as well as her hands. [Y/N]’s red weepy eyes met his crystal clear blue ones. “Would you like them?”

“You don’t want to keep them?”

“Certainly not. My name right there on your chest? That’s preferable to them sitting in a dusty box forever. People will know who you belong to if you wander off like this again. ‘Know you’re not, hm, like… up for finders-keepers.” Coriolanus shifted them out of [Y/N]’s hands and dropped the chain around her neck as if it were the finest gold necklace he had ever purchased her.

Coriolanus put that box up in the attic because he had not wanted to think about it ever again. Above all, though, Coriolanus Snow was an opportunistic man and he put those dog tags on [Y/N] just like he had Lucy Gray because he knew this move was flattering. If it worked once, it would work again. Sickeningly, he pulled out the same words he had used before too: “There. All mine.”

“All yours.” [Y/N] replied.

TAGLIST:

@badwicht @stelleduarte @cinnamongirl127 @prettyppetty @soulessien @bejeweledreverie @jjstyles @arminsarlerts @chmpgneprblem @co1dmountains @miscellaneousmoonchild @lille999 @pumkinnxsmut @taykorsyogurt @ndycrls @watermelonharry @nananarwhal @ohantonia @catlover420sstuff @justaproudslytherpuff @notarabellasstuff @scarytiger111 @zucchinimalfoy @secretsicanthideanymore @h-l-vlovesvintage @dannydevsbbg @clintsupremacy @lookclosernow @10ava01 @or-was-it-just-a-dream @lucielsstuff @fairyydvst

as usual, apologies if your tag didn’t work. tumblr’s tough like that. also so sorry if i forgot anyone! remind me if i did!

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #hunger games #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coryo snow #the hunger games

944 notes · View notes

supernaturalgirl20 · 1 year

Note

Hey, could you do a fic about Joel knocking up the reader, while living in Jackson? He's such a baby daddy and Everytime I read fics that says he pulled out during sex, I always think "hm, someday he's gonna get someone pregnant" since it's a very ineffective birth control hahaha

Thanks for the request 🥰 I’ve made this one more angsty from the last pregnancy request but it has a happy ending 😉💕

And Then it Happened

Pairings: Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, explicit, unprotected sex, PinV sex, Joel is an asshole, mentions of cheating, unplanned pregnancy, little bit of angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of abortion, cursing, fluff, anxiety.

A/N: did a quick edit on this so sorry about any mistakes 🥰

Comments and reblogs really appreciated 🥰

The weight of Joel’s arm around your waist felt heavier than normal and the way his hand was splayed across your stomach had anxiety coiling tight within your chest.

You should have told him last night, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. He had seemed so happy and relaxed for the first time since settling into Jackson that you didn’t want to take from it.

A groan slips past his lips as he moves his hand from your waist to lay back against the mattress.

“Mornin’.” His voice is husky with sleep as he pinches the bridge of his nose, his body stretching out his tired muscles.

“Mornin’,'' you whisper back, a slight quiver in your voice as you turn to face him. He looks at you from beneath his hand with a furrowed brow, his eyes tracing the contours of your face as if he’s searching for something.

“Everythin’ alright?” His hand falls away from his face as he reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

You hum in response, but you can tell from the expression on his face that he isn’t buying it. “I’ma try that again and this time I want the truth,” he turns on his side to face you, his thumb tracing along the seam of your bottom lip as you pull it between your teeth.

“You bite your lip when you're lyin’ darlin.” His eyes are full of warmth as they gaze at you, and you gulp nervously as the butterflies begin to flutter in your stomach.

Your breathing becomes ragged and your heart beats harder against your chest as you work up the courage to tell him.

“I’m pregnant,” you mumble quietly waiting with bated breath for him to say something. “Darlin, ya gotta speak up. I didn’t catch what you said.”

You can feel his thumb rubbing gently against your cheek and you have to close your eyes to stop the tears from falling. “I'm pregnant!”

The motion of his thumb stops. His hand pulls away from you as he sits up abruptly in bed, the movement drawing your attention to him.

“What?!” He stutters. His hand runs anxiously through his hair as he stares down at the duvet. You sit up and slowly reach out to him, but he pulls away, his eyes darting quickly to your face.

“I'm pregnant,” you whisper, almost on the verge of tears. His eyes drift to your lips before meeting your gaze again. “No!” He says it so harshly you flinch. “How the hell did this happen? I ain’t ever cum inside you.”

“I mean, pulling out isn’t a fool proof method, Joel. It just…” He’s shaking his head and when he looks at you again the warmth in his chocolate-brown eyes is gone.

“I ain’t ever got anyone else pregnant pulling out. You must be seeing someone else. It ain’t mine.” His words cut you deeper than any knife ever could. You pull the sheets over your naked body as you begin to sob.

He’s up and out of the bed in a flash as he quickly grabs his clothes off the floor. You want so desperately to reach out and touch him. For him to drop everything and wrap you up in his arms but you know that isn’t going to happen.

“I - I haven’t slept with anyone else. It’s only been you. I thought we were…” He scoffs as he turns towards you. “You thought we were...what? Together. It was just sex. I told you from the start I couldn’t give you more than that. That I couldn’t give you anything other than someone to share a bed with and you were ok with that.”

“I was. Until I wasn’t and now, I’m pregnant and whether you like it or not, this baby is yours.” You stand, pulling the sheet around your naked body as you move around the bed towards him. “I love you, Joel. I have for a long time I just didn’t want to scare you away. So, I kept it to myself. I know you have issues from your past and that you lost Sarah…”

“Don’t!” He shouts. “Don’t you dare bring her up.” His finger is pointed at you angrily and his breathing is ragged as he tries to keep himself calm.

“I’m sorry. I just meant that, I get it. You’re scared and that’s ok because so am I. But we can figure it out together.” You try to move closer to him, but he pulls back.

“I can’t.” He stutters, his eyes now fixed on your stomach. “I can’t do this again. I won’t. I’m sorry.” He grabs his shirt and throws it over his t-shirt before leaving your room, the door slamming loudly behind him as you stand there staring after him.

When you hear the front door slam shut you break down crying. The sound of your sobs fills the now-quiet house. You knew he wouldn’t be happy, but you didn’t think he’d abandon you.

Sitting back against the side of the bed you move your hand to rest over your stomach. “Guess it’s just me and you.”

***

The weeks that followed were tough. Joel avoided you as much as possible and when he couldn’t, he barely spared you a glance.

You had asked Tommy to stop putting you on patrol with him, it was too much being in such proximity to him when he wouldn’t even acknowledge you. People had started to talk so it was easier if you went your separate ways.

“Ya sure?” Tommy asked, his eyebrows raised in question. “You and Joel make a great team.” You nodded. “It’s for the best.”

“Somethin’ happen between you two. Joel’s been grumpier than usual.” He stood leaning against the door with a soft smile on his face.

“Just didn’t work out, that's all.” Tommy didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t push you on it. “He ain’t gonna be happy bout this, ya know?”

“I don’t care. He’s gonna have to get over it. Also, I was hoping to speak to Maria. Is she about?” He nodded before tilting his head to the side. “She’s out back. Want me to get her for ya?”

“Is it ok if I head on back?” He nods, stepping aside to let you pass by before he grabs his denim jacket. “Will you tell Maria I’m gonna head out and find Joel. Gotta go and break the good news to him.”

“Sure. And Tommy, make sure he’s alright for me.” He winks at you before closing the door behind him. You make your way out back to find Maria planting some seeds, baby Luna cooing up at her from her stroller.

“Hey,” you say softly, hoping not to startle them as you walk out into the garden. “Oh hey, I wasn't expecting you.” She dusted her hands on her jeans as she stood to greet you with a hug.

“Yeah, I just wanted to talk to you about something. Tommy said he’s gone to find Joel.” Maria smiles at you before bending down to pick Luna up. “Sure, let's head back inside and I’ll make us a cup of tea.”

“So, what’s up,” she asks, placing Luna in her highchair and making her way to the stove to start boiling the water. You shift nervously from one foot to the other and when you don’t answer, Maria turns around to look at you.

“Everything ok?” Her eyes are wide with concern and when you start to cry, she rushes over and pulls you into a tight hug. “It’s Joel, isn’t it? I knew it. I told Tommy somethin had happened between you two.”

Her hands rubbed your back soothingly as you calmed down to a quiet sob. “I’m - I'm pregnant. It’s Joel’s.”

“Well, that’s obvious.” She teases as she pulls back slightly. You let out a little laugh before you sob again.

“Oh honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything I just ....”

“No,” you shake your head, wiping the tears from your face. “Joel doesn’t think it’s his. Well at least I think so…I don’t know. He said that he’s never…. ya know…cum inside me so it couldn’t be his but I told him that the pullout method isn’t guaranteed. Sorry, I’m rambling.”

Maria shushes you. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. Jesus, I knew I didn’t like him for a reason. Asshole. You ain’t been with anyone else since he got here. Hell, anyone with a set of eyes can see you’re besotted by him.”

She pulls away and makes you both some hot tea before ushering you into the sitting room. “Here,” she hands you a cup and takes a seat beside you, Luna sitting happily in her chair eating some porridge.

“I don’t know what to do,” you whisper as you take a sip of the hot liquid. You don’t know if you can do it without him. “Well first things first, are you keeping it? If you don’t want to, we have options here. You can take some herbs that will terminate the pregnancy.”

Shaking your head, you place the cup on the coffee table. “No, I want to keep it. I’ve - I’ve always wanted to be a mom. Never thought I’d get the chance.”

“Ok, then we can help you. You won’t be alone in this. Tommy and I will be there and Ellie. Does she know yet?”

“No. I haven’t said anything, and I don’t know if I should. It’s not my place and besides me and Joel, we weren’t together like that.”

“Oh, bullshit. Who said that Joel? He’s more delusional than I thought. You two were joined at the hip, you were practically married. And look with Ellie it’s up to you but she is gonna find out eventually, I mean you’re gonna start showing and then what?”

“I know. I’ll think about it. What happens now?” You reach out and take your cup in hand again, sipping slowly on the warm tea. Maria smiles as she glances at her daughter. “Well, we have a scanning machine so the doctor can determine how far along you are and if the baby is doing ok. He’ll give you the vitamins you need to be taking and keep a regular eye on you.”

“Wow, that’s amazing. Didn’t think those were still available.” You smile over at Luna as she makes grabby hands at Maria.

“Yeah, we found one at the nearest hospital and Tommy brought it back hoping it would still work, and it did. He was a little over-cautious when I was pregnant.” She laughs as Luna bounces happily in her lap.

“We should get you over to him now, that way we know for sure what’s going on.” Maria stands and quickly bundles Luna into her stroller ready to take you to the doctor. You make it to the end of the street when you bump into Tommy and Joel.

They’re laughing at something Tommy said but as soon as they spot you Joel's face goes serious. All four of you stop and Joel just stares at you. It’s awkward. Tommy and Maria share a look, but you don’t notice, too caught up in the way Joel is staring at you.

“Where are my two girls off to?” Tommy asks as he pulls Maria in close for a kiss. The sound of his voice breaks Joel from his trance and his gaze drifts to Luna who's cooing up at him.

“Just bringing Y/N to see Jason.” You can feel Joel’s eyes on you again, but you refuse to meet his gaze, focusing instead on Tommy.

“You’re not sick are ya?” He asks, worried, as his eyes drift to you. You shake your head and glance at Joel before meeting his gaze again.

“Alright, we’ll leave you, ladies, to it. See ya home for dinner,” he says to Maria before kissing her softly. “Yeah. I’ve left everything simmering on the stove so just wait until I get back.”

Joel’s gaze follows you until both you and Maria are out of sight. “Alright, what the hell is goin’ on with two? And don’t say nothin, 'cause that ain’t nothin.”

Joel huffs out a breath as he stares at his brother, the crease between his brows deepening. “She’s pregnant,” He snapped.

“And you ain’t happy bout it, I take it?” Tommy asked, quickly masking the shock on his face. They continue to walk, making their way through town towards the empty bar. Joel exhales loudly as he takes a seat at the bar. “I don’t know how I feel,” he sighs as Tommy hands him a glass of whiskey.

He tips his glass in the air towards his brother before downing the golden liquid. “I never thought I’d ever be a dad again, not after…not after Sarah.”

Tommy refills his glass, taking a sip of his drink. “I know. But you’re a dad to Ellie, what's one more.” He leans across the bar, eyes focused on Joel as he picks at a beer mat. “And you love Y/N, even if you can’t admit it out loud. Joel, I’ve watched you struggle my whole life, I’ve watched you blame yourself for Sarah but guess what? It ain’t your fault. None of it is. This is your second chance at a normal life, if it were me, I’d grab it with both hands. Hell, I already did. We’re safe here. So, what’s holding you back?”

“I don’t deserve it.” He gulps back his second glass and bangs it down on the bar before standing and leaving Tommy alone.

“Stubborn ass,” Tommy shouts after him.

***

You’ve begun to show. A small bump that was barely visible from a distance but a clear sign to the people of Jackson that their community was growing.

Ellie had found out about the baby and has been practically living at your side since. Joel had told her after his night with Tommy and even though you’re not sure what exactly he told her, you’re happy it didn’t cause a rift between them.

“I hope it’s a boy,” she beams as she helps you prepare dinner. You smile at her as you cut up the potatoes. “I have a feeling it’s a girl. Call it mother’s intuition.”

“As long as I can teach them how to hunt, I’m happy with either.” You snigger and she smiles up at you, happy to see you laugh for once.

“Joel thinks it’s a girl too,” she says as she peels the carrots, her smile fading when she realises what she’s said. Her eyes drift to you and when she sees you standing still, hands shaking slightly she pales.

“M’sorry Y/N, I didn’t mean to bring him up…I just….” You shake your head, placing the knife gently down on the countertop as you untie your apron. “I’m just - I’m gonna just head to the store. I completely forgot the flour for dessert.”

Rushing out the door you let your legs carry you as you try to catch your breath. He thought you were having a girl. Had he been talking about the baby to Ellie? Does he want to be a father now?

Your mind was racing with these thoughts, and you were distracted when you turned the corner. A gasped breath leaves your lungs when you see Joel laughing at something the pretty blonde woman said. Who the fuck was she?

You feel your heart shattering into little pieces and your lungs tighten as you take in the happy expression on his face. You have to get out of here, you think to yourself, but before you can move, he turns and catches your gaze.

Something flashes behind his eyes, and he starts to move towards you but you don’t want to talk to him. Can’t bear for him to tell you he’s moved on, so you run home.

The door closes behind you and you rest your head against it, willing your lungs to take the breaths you desperately need. A soft knock startles you, but you already know who it is.

“What do you want Joel?” You ask as you turn to face the wooden door. You can hear him sigh deeply from the other side. “S’not what you thought, darlin. I promise.”

“And what is it you think I thought?” You can feel a deep anger bubbling away beneath the surface of your skin.

“Please - please just let me in and we can talk.” You scoff. “Now you wanna talk. You had over a month and instead of talking to me, you completely ignored me.”

“I know, darlin’ but please, just let me say my piece and if you want nothin to do with me still, I’ll leave you alone.” That ache in your chest starts again and you find yourself torn between wanting to hear him out and telling him to fuck off.

“Fine. You have ten minutes.” You turn the handle and open the door to find him standing with his hands in his jeans pocket, head facing the ground but as soon as he hears the door open, his gaze meets yours.

“Hey.” His eyes take you in, lingering on the swell of your stomach, something he hadn’t noticed until now. His breath catches at the sight, and he wants nothing more than to reach out and touch you. He knows he can’t.

“So. You’ve moved on then?” You start as you move further into the house, Joel hot on your heels.

“What?! I ain’t moved on, no that’s - shit that’s not what that was I promise.” He sighs, running his hand down along his face. “She’s helping me with something.”

“Sure.” You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “Does she know you’re about to have a baby you want nothing to do with? That you abandoned the woman who loves you.”

“You shouldn’t love me. I’m not a good man. I ain’t good enough for you darlin. There are a lot of other men here that are far better for you than me.” His hands are at his side now and you can tell from the way he flexes them that he wants to reach out to you.

“I don’t want other men. I just want you,” you whisper. “Do you love me?”

“It’s not that simple. I - I’m scared darlin’.” His voice breaks and you can see he’s holding back tears.

“I hate to break it to you Joel, but love is fucking scary. It strips you raw to the bone and leaves you vulnerable but that’s also the beauty of it. I never thought in a million years I’d find it in this fucked up world and yet I did. I love you, Joel. I love Ellie and this baby and even Tommy and Maria and loving all of these people put me at risk of getting hurt but I love them anyway.”

You take a deep breath, eyes drifting towards the window before you meet his gaze again. “I know you’re scared. Scared to have connections, scared to love but guess what, so am I. Everyone is. But I’m willing to take the chance, are you?”

He nods as he releases a breath. His shoulders relax and the hard planes of his face soften as he shifts closer. It’s like a switch has flicked for him and he realises what an idiot he’s been.

“I’m sorry baby. I’m sorry for everything. I never meant those things I said that morning, I was just scared is all. I know that ain’t no excuse but it’s the truth.” His eyes drift to the small bump visible beneath his plaid shirt.

He wondered where that shirt had gone. He smiles softly at the idea that you’ve been wearing it this whole time. He wants to reach out and touch you. To run his hand over your bump but he doesn’t.

“Let me prove I can give you more, that I can be the kind of man who deserves you and our baby. Please darlin’,” he begs, his eyes pleading as he moves closer. You feel a swell of emotion rising in your throat, threatening to spill out and even though there’s a small part of you that still hates him for what he said that morning, an even bigger part loves him more than life itself.

Words escape you but with a simple nod of your head, he slips an arm around your waist pulling you close. The other cradles your cheek, his thumb rubs circles into your skin as he stares at you lovingly.

“I’m gonna make it up to you baby, I promise. We’re in this together, always.” A watery smile spreads across your face and his eyes drift briefly to your lips before he begins to lean in. When his lips touch yours it’s as if a spark has been lit and you can’t help the soft moan that slips out.

The kiss becomes more heated by the second and he pulls you closer, so close that you can feel the warmth from his skin seeping into you, that you can feel the evidence of his arousal against your thigh. The sound of a door closing upstairs startles you both. “It’s just me. Is it safe to come down now? I’m just gonna head to Dina’s and then you two can get back to sucking the face off each other,” Ellie calls from the hallway before she makes her way into the kitchen.

Pulling away with a laugh, Joel rests his head against yours. “So, you weren’t flirting with that woman?” You ask for the second time. He chuckles, unable to think that your jealousy is anything but cute.

“I promise you, darlin’. I was just trying to get some stuff for the baby. Was gonna gather as much as I could for a nursery at the new house and then I was gonna come to beg for forgiveness.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. Thank fuck, you think to yourself as you wind your arms around his neck. He slips his own tighter around your waist and you close your eyes and breathe him in. He smells of whiskey and citrus. He smells like home.

“What new house?” You question as you pull away slightly.

“Oh, you told her. Finally, can I come with you when you show her,” Ellie’s voice sounds from behind you and you both turn to face her.

“No kid, you got school, remember,” Joel says, his voice a little stern as he tilts his head towards the front door.

“Ugh, fine. Whatever. I’ll see you later.” She huffs out as she turns to leave. Joel turns his attention back to you and he smiles down at you as you look at him with confusion on your face.

“Come on, got somethin’ I need to show ya.” He links his hand with yours and guides you out of the house and down the street. “Where are we going?” You ask as you look around, the houses slowly fading away as he pulls you towards a small house at the edge of Jackson.

“This,” he says as he pulls you to stand in front of him. His arms slip around your waist to cradle your bump. “Is home.”

“Home?” Your voice squeaks as you take in the once-dilapidated house, now fully refurbished. He hums as he rests his head on your shoulder. “Yeah, home. Been working on this since you told me you were pregnant. Roped Tommy into helpin’ me too. It’s not much, but it’s ours. Somewhere for us to call home and be a family.”

A strangled sob escapes from your lips and he turns you in his arms, holding you close as he tilts your chin upwards. “The minute I left you that mornin’ I regretted it. Went straight to

Tommy and told him I wanted to work on this for us”, his hand moves to rest on your bump, “for our family.”

“It’s got plenty of room. Four bedrooms, a nice size kitchen and a living room. Ellie already has her stuff moved in and I think I’ve got most of the things we’ll need for the baby. Now all that’s left to do is ask if you’re willing to move in with us. With me.”

“Yes. Yeah, I’m ready.” He smiles brightly at you before capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

“Wanna see it, darlin’?” You nod your head and twine your fingers with his as he leads you inside. You gasp in awe as you take everything in. It’s beautiful. Homely. Somewhere you can picture yourself for the rest of your life.

“I love it, Joel.” He smiles, “come on, I wanna show you the nursery.” He leads you up the stairs and down the hall to the last room on the left. He holds the handle in his hand and turns to you with a smile. “Ready?”

You nod. Heart racing as he slowly opens the door, and you gasp when you see the way he has decorated it. A pale yellow adorns the walls with pictures of animals in small frames. There’s a small crib in the middle of the room and a little dresser to one side. On the other, there’s a rocking chair and a small bookshelf beside it with a few books already littering the shelves.

“Joel - Joel it’s amazing. I can’t believe you did all this. Where’d you find everything?” He stands beside you with his arm around your waist. “Found most of it on patrols. Borrowed the chair from Lauren,” he leans in close, his breath hot on your ear, “the woman you were jealous of. And I made the crib myself.”

“You made it? Oh, Joel…” you begin to cry, and he pulls you close kissing the top of your head. “Shh, baby. It’s alright. I want our little one to have the best is all.”

“Thank you. I mean it…this is amazing.” He leans in and kisses you softly. “Gotta provide for what’s mine. Now, how about I show you our room,” he teases as he quirks a brow.

You shake your head as you giggle. “Go on then.” Your new shared room is right next door and when you walk inside you take a quick look around. It looks cosy. A huge bed, two lockers and a bookshelf with some of your favourites.

Your heart swells but you don't get to dwell on it as he quickly closed the door behind him and pushed you gently onto the bed. He stood there staring, his eyes taking in the curve of your body and the swell of your stomach with hunger you’d never seen in him before, and you shuddered.

“Been thinkin’ bout this for far too long, darlin’.” He breaths raggedly, his eyes watching carefully as you begin to remove your clothing. He gulps and a strangled groan slips past his slightly rough lips as he takes in the sight of you bare, the peak of your nipples pebbling with the cool air.

He quickly shucks off his boots as he climbs up the bed towards you, his body completely covering you. His mouth finds your nipple, pulling it between his teeth and you moan loudly, fingers running through his hair.

A sudden need washed over you. A need to feel him against you. To feel his bare skin against your own as you both seek out that pleasure you’ve wanted since that last morning.

With a shaky breath, you slowly move his shirt up his body and he’s quick to help you. Pulling the shirt over his shoulders, he tosses it onto the floor and his jeans quickly follow leaving him bare. His hazel eyes stare down at you and there’s a vulnerability behind them.

You reach up wrapping your hand around his neck and you pull him into you, your lips meeting in a searing kiss. His hands grip your hips tight as he nestles himself between your thighs, careful not to crush you or the baby.

You angled your hips, urging him to sink inside you and take what he wanted. Taking himself in his hand, he notches the head of his cock at your entrance and with a roll of his hips, he sinks into your heat.

“Fuck, darlin’. So, god damn tight,” he says with a strangled groan. He begins to move, slowly at first pulling himself almost out before pushing back in.

The sound of your soft whimpers and the sight of you writhing in pleasure beneath him has him losing his fucking mind. He grabs your leg, throwing it over his hip as he begins to pound into you, the bed groaning with each thrust of his hips.

“Fuck, darlin’…I’m-I’m so close…need ya to…need ya to come first,” he groans into the skin of your neck, his teeth nipping you softly.

“Joel…. oh god I’m gonna….” You gasp as your orgasm pulses through you. He lets out a strangled groan at the feel of your cunt clenching tight around him.

His hips begin to falter and the only sounds he lets out are soft grunts as he nears his release. He rolls his hips again and again until he cums, groaning loudly as he spills inside you.

He slowly pulls out and reaches over the side of the bed to grab his tattered t-shirt, using it to clean you up. He collapses onto the bed beside you pulling you into his chest.

His fingers trace a pattern into your skin. “Ellie said you think it’s a girl.” You watch as a smile edges its way onto his face, his palm resting gently over the swell of your stomach.

“I don’t think darlin’, I know. She’s gonna be pretty like her mama. Cheeky like her big sister and she’s gonna have me wrapped around her little finger.” A hint of sadness washes over his face and you reach out to touch his cheek.

“Hey, you ok?” He smiles then, his eyes glossing over with unshed tears. “Yeah, darlin’. I’m happy it’s just…”

“You’re thinkin about Sarah.” His eyes widened. How do you always know what he’s thinkin?

“Yeah. She always wanted to be a big sister. She’d be so excited about this little one.”

“Maybe we could have Sarah be her middle name. A way to remember her big sister.” Joel smiles pulling you into him as he crashes his lips to yours. “You are amazing’ darlin, you know that? Got my whole world right here,” he says, cradling your stomach once more.

“Don’t forget about me,” Ellie shouts from her room. You both turn to look at the door. “How the hell did she come in without us knowin’?” Joel shifts to lean on his elbow. You shrug your shoulders as a small giggle escapes you.

“Think it’s funny do ya?” He begins to tickle you and you start to laugh loudly. “Are you two done? Because I’m starving.”

Joel laughs then, resting his head in the crook of your neck. “Suppose we better get up and make some dinner. Then I’m gonna rope Tommy into helpin’ me move your stuff over.”

“Sounds like a plan, Miller.” You watch as he dresses and makes for the door. He turns to face you, “better get used to that name darlin’ cause you’re gonna be a Miller soon too.” With a wink, he opens the door and makes his way downstairs leaving you alone, shocked at what he just said.

Mrs Miller. You like the sound of that.

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