You always loved coming in with Oscar on Prema shoot days, a permanent smile on your face watching him interact with his teammates; Fred and Logan. The two had welcomed you with open arms the first time Oscar introduced you, with you and Logan sparking a quick friendship.
There was something inherently sweet about the American, always taking time to ask how you were doing and get to know you. Oscar loved seeing your friendship blossom, happy that there was someone to keep you company when he was busy in front of the camera.
Today you sat behind the camera, watching as the threesome film a blindfolded eating challenge for the Prema YouTube channel. The striking red of the team practically burned your eyes but the boys looked so cute in their team kit, especially Oscar. You had to stifle a laugh each time Oscar got frustrated when the boys weren't guessing the items correctly, his face an absolute picture.
Part of you loved coming here to see the contrast between the Oscar everyone else knows and the Oscar that's reserved for you. This version of your boyfriend was lovable and hilarious, awkward in an endearing way. Whilst that is the version of Oscar that drew you in, you couldn't deny that the other side of Oscar is the one that got you hooked. The Oscar you knew now, the one who practically folded you in half whilst he pounded into you at night, was your dirty little secret.
Even now, when he glanced over at you, innocent smile on his lips, you could see the naughty glint in his eyes as they traveled over your body. You'd worn a skirt today, planning on convincing Oscar to sneak away for a quickie somewhere, but in this moment you were regretting it. Oscar's thirsty look had your thighs clenching together, a movement he couldn't miss. He was thankful his two friends were blindfolded, unable to see the way he was practically drooling over you.
Oscar was snapped back into reality by Logan's guess at the food stuff, bursting out laughing at how wrong he was.
When filming had wrapped up, you found yourself sat opposite Logan in the Prema canteen. "I don't know what happened to your taste buds Logan but you were awful at that challenge." You tell him, giggling when he glares daggers at you.
"I was not," the American replies, "They just gave us really hard foods. Honestly, give me a good burger and I'd be able to explain it perfectly, you just watch." Logan defends, barely able to make it through his claims with a straight face.
Oscar joins the pair of you, slipping a drink in front of you as his now free hand glides over your exposed thigh. Your legs squeeze together, the hitch in your breath masked as you take a sip of your drink. “What are you guys talking about?” Oscar asks.
“Y/N thinks there’s something wrong with my mouth.” Logan laughs as you fight to keep your legs open under the table. Oscar smirks, “Maybe we should ask that girl from the other day.”
Your eyes widen at his statement, gently hitting him on the arm as Logan blushes. “Oscar man, no need to expose me like that in front of a lady.” He stammers, avoiding eye contact. Oscar chuckles, “Trust me, Y/N doesn’t mind, the two of us heard everything anyway.” You can’t help but giggle as Logan fights back a smile.
“I hate you guys.” He laughs, before pulling out his phone and leaving the two of you to your own private conversation. Oscar’s rough hand is a welcome addition to your thigh, sending goosebumps over your skin with each stroke of his thumb.
He leans in to you, pressing a kiss to your forehead before dropping his mouth to your ear. “Did you wear a skirt on purpose today sweetheart? Did you have a dirty little plan in mind this morning?” He questions, the teasing tone to his voice sending a shiver down your spine.
You shake your head, glancing over at Logan and hoping he can’t see the blush rising to your cheeks. Oscar hums in your ear, clearly disagreeing with you.
“Now I don’t think that’s true, I think you wanted me to be able to touch you whenever I want today. To slip my fingers under that little skirt and play with your pussy, I bet you’re wet already aren’t you?” He whispers. You bite your lip in response to conceal a whimper, his thumb gliding against the fabric of your dampening underwear.
Your toes curl in your shoes at the sensation, hand squeezing into a fist around your phone as Oscar slips your underwear to the side. To anyone watching it looks as though Oscar is resting his head on your shoulder, interested in whatever’s on your screen.
In reality he’s swiping his thick fingers through the growing wetness pooling between your legs. His slick fingers circle your clit and your stomach clenches as you barely conceal a moan. Logan glances up briefly at the small sound but furrows his eyebrows in confusion when it seemed you and Oscar hadn’t noticed. He shakes his head before returning to scrolling through Instagram.
Oscar smirks as he watches his friend return to his activities, one of his digits now slipping inside your pussy ever so slowly. “I bet you’d just love it if he noticed, wouldn’t you sweetheart?” Oscar whispers, lips grazing your ear before pressing a kiss to your cheek in disguise. “Absolutely dripping for me, or are you soaked for him? Huh? Do you want Logan to know what a dirty little slut you are?” He continues.
You barely contain your whine, teeth digging into your lip so hard you're certain you'll break the skin soon. Oscar’s finger slides in and out of your pussy, your cheeks heating up as the very faint sound of your juices reaches your ears. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the smirk spreading across Oscar’s face, proud of himself for getting his girlfriend in this state.
He curls his fingers, applying to pressure to that one spot that makes your eyes roll. In an attempt to not react that, your body forces a new reaction, a knee jerk reaction that causes your leg to slam into Logan's own leg underneath the table. His head shoots up at the pain, eyebrows scrunched, "What the hell was that for Y/N?" He practically hisses.
"I'm sorry," You stutter out, Oscar's fingers still not stopping their motions. "I, uh, I didn't mean-" Before you can finish your sentence, a brush of Oscar's hand against your clit sends you spiraling over the edge. Your orgasm washes over you, your eyes screwing shut as you slam your hand over your mouth. Oscar continues to watch you, ignoring Logan's wide eyed stare.
You keep your stare to the ground, unable to look at Logan across the table. Oscar's other hand lifts your chin up to face him, "It's okay baby, you did great, Logan won't judge you. I promise." He whispers gently, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. Your eyes slowly travel over to meet Logan's, a clouded look of lust taking over his pupils. "
"Did what I think just happened, just happen?" He murmurs, swallowing thickly as he awaits the answer. You nod shyly, a prickly heat coating your cheeks as you blush. Logan's tongue peeks out to lick his lips, now hyper aware of just how dry his mouth is.
"Can I see more?" He asks, turning to look at Oscar. The Australian sits there smugly, looking at you to see if you have any qualms. When he sees nothing but excitement in your eyes, he returns his gaze to Logan.
"Meet us in our hotel room tonight, I'll text you the room number." Oscar tells him, before standing from the table and extending an arm to allow you to join him. The pair of you walk away, not sparing a glance back at Logan, who remains seated at the table under he truly grasps what he just witnessed.
"Holy shit." He mutters to himself, squeezing himself in his trousers before rushing off to his room to resolve his new problem.
Hey! Can I request for an angst romance with the very first sentence prompt with Satoru? They break up but Satoru refuses to believe that it actually happened and that it was only a joke. Like, he is in denial about it.
Hi anon! You're my first official request so thank you! I hope I did this prompt justice for you. My heart hurts.
angsty romance prompt.
"tell me it was a lie, tell me you're playing with me right now "
Warnings: None really, just angst and no happy ending, which yes is so unlike me but we ball! I didn't proof read cause it made me sad writing it.
“Tell me it was a lie. Tell me you’re playing with me right now!” Satoru’s voice was at a higher level than it should being at this café. The people around pretending not to be easy dropping on the conversation that you and the man across form you were having.
“Lower your voice, people are staring.” The hushed tone of your voice, attempting to not betray the facade you were putting on. This wasn’t easy for you, breaking up with Satoru Gojo, if anything you were breaking your own heart.
“How do you expect me to react when my girlfriend brought me out to lunch to break up with me?!” His tone is harsh, in a way you have never heard before. You flinch at his abrasiveness, making him shrink back into his chair.
Satoru’s anger and disbelief confuse you. It was as if everyone saw the signs of this impending breakup but him. The relationship had been going downhill for some time now, how could he not see that? How could he not see what he was doing? How couldn’t he see what it was doing to you?
After a year and a half of dating, you told him, you told him you loved him and you meant it with every fiber of your soul. It had been six more months since then and he never said it back. You were understanding at first when he didn’t say it back, albeit hurt a little but you knew at least a little of his past and what he has gone through. You could understand that it may be hard for him to tell you he loved you, you knew he loved you because of the way he cared for you and that was enough.
Well, you thought it was enough. After your confession, Satoru didn’t immediately become distant, but it started with small things. He stopped texting you good morning and would only say good night. The small touches, the holding hands, and the comforting hugs became few and far between. Any time you brought it up, he would play it off like nothing was wrong, everything was fine. Then it became as if the two of you were barely even friends, it seemed he was always busy as if he never had time for you anymore. And it hurt, it hurt like hell and even then you kept pushing it off just hoping he would tell you what was going on behind those piercing blue eyes of his but he never did.
That’s what lead to today, the day of your 2 year anniversary. Truthfully, you hadn’t even planned on breaking up with him today but when you sat across from him in the same café that you had your first date at, his eyes never met yours. He didn’t hold your hand across the table, he didn’t kiss your forehead on his arrival, he wasn’t your Satoru.
You could feel the tears threatening to spill as you looked up at him, “Do you know what today is? Or why I asked you here”
His jaw tightened, “It’s Tuesday and I don’t know maybe because I’m your boyfriend and we go to this café a lot.”
Is this all a joke to you? Was he just a joke to you? He knows he hasn’t been the best boyfriend lately and that he’s been a bit distant but that wouldn’t make you break up with him. Would it? You were too kind, too patient, too pure for that, right?
“This is the café that we went to on our first date, two years ago.” You aren’t even facing him anymore when you say that, just reminiscing on a time when it felt as if you were just two kids in love. Satoru froze, not even realizing that he had forgotten. He had been trying so hard to keep you at an arm’s length after your confession that he had seemed to just push you away. He didn’t even say anything as you turned to him, tears threatening to spill down your beautiful face at any single moment. What had he done?
“Do you even love me, Satoru?”
The question hung in the air, making his mouth go dry. He did, he loved you more than he should and that was the problem. His love for you scared him, you scared him. You didn’t know the power that you held over him; you made him weak. You were his weakness. But he was the strongest, he couldn’t afford a weakness, but he wasn’t strong enough to let you go either. Now here he was, unable to speak the words that have been written into his heart from the moment he saw you.
With a sad smile, you take his silence as your answer gathering your things and leaving you there. His heart shattered as he watched you leave out of the door, fading from his vision. Satoru’s worst fear came true, the strongest was defeated, the strongest was broken by you and it was all his own fault.
Today was the day. You came to the conclusion of your feelings towards Alastor and wanted to confess to him. He has just been so kind towards you, such a gentleman, surely he feels the same way right?
You asked him to meet you outside the hotel after everyone else had gone to sleep, you know he doesn’t like an audience and this is a private matter. You waited impatiently, your foot tapping nervously against the ground as you recited the words you wanted to say. This is gonna go well, it has to.
Alastor finally showed up, his everlasting smiling warming your heart. “Hello my dear, you wanted to speak to me this evening?” Alastor tilts his head as he looks at you with interest.
‘My dear’ that rings in your head for a moment. Yeah… yeah, he has to like you too. There’s no doubt in your mind. “Alastor, I have to tell you something.” You say with more confidence, convinced this can only go well. Alastor waits for you to continue, so you do. “I really like you, will you please be my boyfriend?” You ask as you clasp your hands together.
Alastor stares at you in bewilderment. He didn’t realize you felt this way, he didn’t realize he had given off the impression he was into you. He was at a loss for words for a moment before he blurted out, “I don’t like you like that though.”
Your heart shattered in that moment. What could he possibly mean? He doesn’t like you in that way? But all the pet names, all the times you spent alone laughing, telling stories. Was it all a lie? No, it all happened. So why does he not feel the same way. “Y-You… You’re kidding right..?” You ask in disbelief as tears start to form in your eyes.
“I’m not.” He says bluntly as he stares at you, his smile never changing in the slightest. You laugh weakly as the tears start to flow down your cheeks. “Y-You could’ve been nicer about it.. Not said it so bluntly..” You mumble.
“Dear, speak up. I can’t understand you when you mumble.” Alastor says with annoyance. You look at him in shock. He seemed so nice, why is he being so cruel now? “Show me some sympathy you asshole! You just broke my heart! At least let me down slowly!” You cry out as your cries soon turned into sobs. It feels like you’ve just been stabbed in the chest. You didn’t see this coming at all.
Alastor’s eye twitches at your sobs as he just stands there for a moment. He sighs then places a hand on your shoulder, grabbing your attention as you look at him through glossy eyes. “I’ll walk you to your room. You need some rest.” He says as he offers you his arm. You reluctantly take it and have him guide you to your room.
It felt like an eternity before you finally got to your room. You let go of Alastor’s arm and mumbled a small ‘goodnight’ to him. “Goodnight.” He responds as he lets you enter your room. The second you closed the door your sobs became uncontrollable. Your head hit the door as you slid down to the ground, a hand grasping at your chest as you tried to make the pain your heart felt go away. You really thought you had something with Alastor, you really thought he was going to love you back. But it seems that isn’t true. He doesn’t love you, nor will he ever love you. Your sobs soon quieted down as you slowly lifted yourself off the ground only to throw yourself onto your bed. Your cries only stopped once you fell asleep.
On the other side of the door, Alastor didn’t leave right away. He heard your sobs, he could head your pain. Pain he inflicted on you without meaning to. He sighs to himself as he feels his smile falter just a little. If only he could tell you that it’s for your own good you aren’t with him. He may indeed have become fond of you, but a relationship could hurt you more than bring you happiness. So it was easier to try and make you hate him, rather than him admit he might just love you too.
You don’t even realize it but she is gently taking care of you without you noticing most of the time
Her devil fruit makes this extremely easy for her, placing a blanket around your shoulders from across the ship, gently catching you with a hand to get you balanced so you don't fall off the ship, helping you haul the rope in the storm, finding your lost item by looking around with extra eyes, etc
Robin is someone who when it comes to her partner uses less gendered terms. Prefers using they/them or terms of endearment like “my sparrow” “the beauty” “my partner” “my lover” “Who? Oh welcome home darling”
She likes calling or referring to you as hers, it's not to be jealously possessive or scare others off most of the time. It is simply that she is so happy to know that you are the person she has fallen for in this lifetime. This queen is convinced that you are the only one for her for the rest of time, she would never if you split up look for another. You are her angel and no one would be able to replace you, or hold a candle to the flame that she burns for you alone
When she does use it as a possessive outside of endearment or wonder, its usually due to one or both of you being in a dangerous situation and to alert one another of such things and tell others they fuck with either of you and the other will make sure there is hell to pay for everyone involved
Robin enjoys having you lay your head in her lap as she reads for some quiet bonding time.
Her fingers will always be resting on your stomach or carding through your hair (if you have ethnic hair or protective hairstyles she would switch to gently tracing her fingers over your arm to respect the hard work that goes into maintaining it)
This is also a way she asserts herself in private as the top in the situation, she will have you kneel and only let you rest your head on her plush thighs when she feels you’ve earned the privilege back from being a brat/tease
Part two for that, Robin will understand however if such positions are grounding to you in times of anxiety or after lovemaking. If laying your head on her thighs/chest/stomach etc is calming for you she will always be ready to set things aside and go find a comfortable place to do so with you
If anyone of the older Straw Hats knows how to walk their s/o through a rough time it's Robin. She will gently guide you with touch, or words, or a calming presence. Takes great pride in being able to work you down from any heightened state of emotion that is not beneficial to you (ie joy/happiness/excitement)
Will coo and reward you for being her “good little darling~”
Not huge on PDA in public, not that she has a distaste for it she just likes to spoil you in private away from anyone who might try to tease you for being so tender
It also goes that she's more on guard for dangers when out in the open, so part of her attention is ensuring that you are safe, rather than trying to enchant you with sweet words and melt you with firm but tender touches
I really see Robin as being the dominant person in the relationship, preferring that of being more the caretaker, although she is fine if you flip the script sometimes. Its just in her nature both in and out of the bedroom to make her treasured lover melt into a puddle or dote on them
It's her love language, besides it's so much fun to tease you even if you do or do not dish it back to her she loves being the one you trust and go to before anyone else
This woman is not the biggest on presents, she won’t mind receiving them but not really all that big on buying you presents. If you like receiving them she would take note and surprise you with things sometimes but they're never trinkets they are always items with purpose like clothes, weapon upgrades, skin care-useful things
Celebrations like your anniversary are the exception, she will spend so much time having something made or finding the perfect gift for you.
Price will not be a question, if its 1 million berries she will spend it for this occasion for that gift
Would be happy to teach you whatever knowledge she has on any given topic including how to read the poneglyphs if you’d like. Or nothing at all if you do not have the interest
She will do her best to support you in your hobbies or passions, but she will struggle if it is robots for purposes like Franky
She will still try because it's you but may gently suggest you talk to him about it as he’d understand more
Kisses are not lost on Robin, she adores them. Long slow meaningful kisses, she's never rushed even if a fight is about to break out.
Small quick kisses would be more your thing than hers, if she's kissing you even on the cheek she's slow, cupping your jaw as she sweetly leaves a kiss there before pulling away with a pleased smile. You can give her quick pecks, forehead smooches, bunny kisses, fast little makeouts but she will always kiss you slowly and methodically. Claiming all of you in that one kiss, so if you kiss her lips expect her extra hands to hold you there until she's done with you
Dates are never rushed. It's rare for her to plan a serious date with you but those are some of her favorites. Mood lighting and a really nice restaurant or to a fancy place to slow dance to some nice orchestra/ band music, or much to everyone's surprise a day at an amusement park, spa, water park. Only because she knows you’ll love it, and she would love watching you get excited and dart about as she slowly follows right behind never too far away. Taking in every second of the happiness on your face
Otherwise dates are more sporadic moments of you both wandering on your adventures together and just trying things that strike your fancy in town like shopping, or looking for a book she can’t read. She has challenged you once to find a book with a language she didn’t know as a way of distracting you from something the others were trying to surprise you with AND as a way of showing off her skills to you
There are many more ideas I have for this lovely woman but I’ll wait and see if anyone wants those as they may learn much more nsfw~
Summary: Everyone’s got regrets they might wish to go back and change, but then again, you would have never gotten here
Word Count: 3,304
Content/Warnings: MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY, SMUT, honest conversations, hiking, cuddling, soft intimate shower, oral sex (f receiving), p in v protected sex, lotsa kissing, praise and lowkey size kink, swears
Author’s Note: O. M. G. This is the first time I’ve written smut, so I wanted to make it super soft and loving like I feel really pairs for this couple. Nine months into the relationship, wowza. Talk about true love, somebody pls find me a bear of a man like this.
Likes, comments, reblogs, and asks are sooooo welcome and appreciated!!
Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more
Below is the song which inspired this chapter. It’s my favorite on the entire album. It just kinda puts warmth and longing into my chest, so I hope the vibe matches what I’ve written.
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“Yes Mom, I promise I’ll be safe.” You looked into the camera of your phone as your mom looked right back at you.
“As long as you promise. I don’t want you eaten by a bear, but apparently you’ve got your own bear of a boyfriend to ward them off.” You laughed along with her own chuckle at that joke.
“Yes, Ari knows these woods well. I have no doubt he’s taking us on a good and safe route.” Your head turned away from the phone at a knock at the door.
“That’s probably him now.”
It was Sunday morning and Ari had asked you on a nice hike with him. The weather was set to be sunny, yet brisk, perfect for a rigorous walk through the mountains.
You opened the door and Ari greeted you with a kiss on the top of your head. “Morning, Duchess.”
He turned to see you were on the phone. “Oh, good morning Mrs.—“
“Ari, please. Call me mom. How many times do I have to tell you?” You both smiled and blushed at that as Ari went into your kitchen and dropped off his things. You sat on the couch, continuing your phone call.
“I knew there was something about that boy the first time I saw him. I’m so glad the two of you are so happy together. I can’t wait to come visit and officially meet him in person soon.” Ari had spoken to your mom on several occasions over FaceTime now, each time garnering more of her respect and adoration, which was rare for her. She always had sky high expectations, and you were her daughter after all, but she didn’t want you to have to face the same struggles she did, both career and romance-wise.
You rolled your eyes, thinking she wouldn’t catch it, but of course she did. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, young lady. You know I’m right. I’ll let you go have fun on your date, though. I love you!”
You smiled back. “Love you, too, Mom.”
Once the call ended, you walked over to Ari, watching him bent over and looking through your fridge. You just couldn’t resist the urge to smack the plump, ripe piece of ass in joggers before you. Just as you were winding up, a large hand went and covered both cheeks.
“I know what you’re, thinking, Angel. You’re not gonna get me this time.” He rose from his hunched position, and towered over you, eyes glinting with mischief, pairing with the sly grin on his face. Before you knew it, Ari had scooped you up and plopped you back on the couch, peppering your face with kisses and tickling your sides. You were helpless, kicking your legs from under his body, doing your best to fight off the attack.
“Ari, quit it! I give, I give, you win!” You squealed through your giggle.
Ari’s hands and lips stopped their assault, but he didn’t pull away, instead, leaning in and putting a fat kiss on your lips. “Get on your hiking boots! We’ve gotta go before it gets hot.”
You nodded and looked up at him through your eyelashes. “Help me tie them?”
Ari’s head drooped down as he sighed and grabbed your boots off the floor. He could never say no to that look. He kissed each shin as he slid the boots onto your feet. “Anything for you, Duchess.”
You helped by tying one of the shoes as Ari tied the other. He was just such an expert, having to do this everyday for however many years now. Looking at the single knot you had made on your right shoe, he untied it and pulled the laces tight, making his own double knot in its place.
“You’re so much better at that than me.” You huffed. He laughed back, kissing the wrinkle away from your forehead that showed up when you were frustrated.
“Nonsense. You’re great at it. I just like ‘em extra secure.” He grabbed your hand and helped to lift you off the couch, the two of you putting on your hiking backpacks and heading out the door, ready for the trail.
Your hike was filled with amazing views and sightings of so much wildlife. You truly loved seeing Ari in his element, as well. He constantly checked on you as he led you through the winding trails, pointing out his favorite spots and, of course, stopping for snacks and photo ops.
He could tell when the exhaustion was starting to creep in, but luckily by that point, the two of you were nearly home.
As you came back, Ari started on heating up the leftovers from dinner the night before. You went out to your back porch which overlooked the rolling landscape, rich with colors of green and rocky gray, mountains graced with snow caps when you looked up at the peaks surrounding you.
Ari came out carrying two warm plates of Thai food from the good place in town and you snuggled up on the couch of your patio furniture and ate together.
He grabbed your plates and set them aside, as the two of you chatted, the sun casting a warm glow over the landscape. Ari pulled you close so your back was against his chest, his strong arms tight around your waist. He wiggled to scoot until his back was up against the arm rest, finally placing his head on your shoulder as the two of you settled.
Ari kissed your neck, his beard lightly scratching the sensitive skin, as you sat there pensively. “Ari, do you ever wish you could go back and change things? Go back to a time that was simpler, where you didn’t know what it was like to live through so many hardships? Do it all differently?” You felt his chest heave with a sigh and he exhaled out of his nose, the warm air hitting your collar bone.
Ari let the question hang in the air for a moment, thinking over everything in his life while he formulated an answer. “If I could go back, I probably would’ve held onto my old Bronco. It used to be my grandpa’s, and it was getting old, so I traded it in for the truck. I probably would’ve visited him down in Atlanta a little more, too, before he passed.”
You nodded as he hummed, thinking of more things. “I probably would’ve stuck around for graduation, finished my degree so I could become rich.”
You giggled as his chest rumbled behind you. “I’d probably apologize to Savannah for wasting her time, would’ve hung out and vacationed with my childhood friends a little more….”
“Had a little more patience, or sent a few more prayers to heaven, but I don’t know if that all was really in the cards. If it were up to me, who knows where I’d be? I look back at all of that. The heartbreaks, the hard goodbyes, they led me here.”
You turned to look up at him, his gaze distant in thought before he looked down at you. “If it was all different, though, I wouldn’t be sitting here with my whole world in my arms, stealing kisses on a Sunday afternoon. Sure, there are a few things that I might’ve changed if God put me in charge, but then again, I would have never met you.”
Tears began to well up in your eyes at his words. “Why? Is there anything you regret?”
You laughed and sniffled as you shook your head. “No. Not at all.” He used his thumb to wipe the tears falling down your cheeks.
“I feel really dumb right now. I was gonna say something stupid like buying bitcoin to be rich. Or like, maybe just not date at all until I found you. But you make a great point. I wouldn’t have come up here if it weren’t for all that. I think I love you too much to regret anything that led me here. Anything that I thought was a wrong turn definitely turned out right.”
He shook his head, laughing along with you, kissing away the rest of your tears. “Trust me, I love you more.”
The two of you sat there, basking in each other’s presence, before you began to become overly aware of the dried dirt and sweat that sat on your skin.
“I, um…. I think I’m gonna go take a shower. Get the outdoors off of me.” Ari nodded and helped you up off his lap, preparing to head home and do the same when you lingered before heading inside.
“Do you want to….join…me?” Ari sprung up out of his chair, head nodding vigorously. He grabbed the plates off the table and ran to drop them in the sink. He watched as you sauntered, hips swaying while you discarded pieces of clothing, one by one, completely naked before reaching the barn door that closed off the master bathroom from your bedroom.
Ari shimmied down his pants with much less grace, shucking off his shirt and socks, before joining you in the steamy room. He watched in awe as you stepped into the water and it ran down the curves of your body. Ari reached his hand under the stream and immediately retracted at the sting of the heat.
“God, Duchess. I love you, but I don’t think I could stand it if the lava you’re standing under burns my skin off before I even get to touch you.”
You laughed and rolled your eyes. “Bear, it’s not that bad.”
You begrudgingly turned down the temperature as Ari joined you. This wasn’t the first time you and Ari had done anything, but it was the first time you had seen each other fully naked all at once, since you hadn’t fully had sex yet.
You turned around as Ari grabbed your shampoo, gently rubbing it into your scalp. You moaned in satisfaction at the feeling of his fingertips massaging your head, basking in the intimacy and ecstasy of the moment.
“Angel, if you keep making noises like that, I don’t think we’ll ever get clean.” You laughed as you leaned back to wash the shampoo out of your hair.
Ari leaned under the stream with you to wet his hair. You squeezed the shampoo into your hand and began to massage it into his scalp, scratching your nails through his hair just the way he liked.
“Oh, fuck Angel, that’s good.” You giggled, hitting him in the chest.
“If I’ve gotta stop, so do you, mister.”
The two of you continued to wash each other, sharing kisses and feather light touches here and there before getting out and drying off.
Once you had brushed out your hair and Ari’s, the two of you made your way to your bed, sheets freshly washed just the day before. You had your towel wrapped around your body while Ari’s hung low on his waist. Ari held your hips, looking into your eyes, as you slowly backed up until your knees gave out from hitting against the bed.
Ari moved to crawl over you, his towel coming undone as he did so. Your eyes trailed down his firm chest, to his chiseled abs, until you could see how hard he was. You moaned at the sight, watching how his dick twitched in response.
His eyes stayed locked with yours until he leaned down and kissed you, trailing away from your lips and down your neck before retracing the path with his tongue.
You shuffled under him, removing your towel and discarding it on the floor with his, adjusting yourself so your head laid against the pillows. He kissed you again, deeply, passionately, before smiling and pulling away.
“I love you. I’d never change anything about my life unless it meant I could have met you sooner just to love you that much longer.”
You could feel his heavy cock tap against your leg as he kissed down your chest, eyes never leaving yours. You watched intently, lips parted in a light gasp as he finally reached where you were yearning for his touch.
Ari’s biceps bulged when he pulled your legs apart, placing a gentle kiss on your clit. Your breath shuddered at the sensation.
“Is this okay, Angel?” You nodded and whispered back.
“Yes, please. Please keep going.”
Ari’s tongue darted out of his mouth licking a stripe up your slit. Your back bowed as he dove in, licking and sucking. You knew he called you Angel, but his tongue was heavenly.
You let out a high-pitched moan, entangling your fingers through the wet strands of Ari’s hair, using the leverage to grind against his face. He inserted a finger into you, pumping it and curling it against your spot just right. You felt your legs began to shake, but pushed Ari’s head away before you could reach your peak.
“Wait, hold on.” You spoke while still trying to catch your breath. He looked up at you in bewilderment, beard glistening with your arousal.
“What’s wrong, Duchess? Did I do something?” You shook your head, still gasping for air.
“No, no. It was so good, I just, uh…..I want you to be inside me when I come.” Ari nodded, coming back up your body to kiss you.
“Okay.” He whispered back, a soft smile on his face. “Gimme a sec.”
He ran over to his discarded joggers and fished in the pocket to find his wallet where he pulled out a condom. He returned to you in bed, taking his spot between your legs again, and rolled it on. You knew he was huge, and you’d only taken two of his fingers before, but you couldn’t help the anticipation to feel all of him.
“I’m gonna open you up first, okay Angel?”
You nodded and immediately threw your head back as Ari scissored two of his long fingers against your walls, preparing you and stretching you out for what was to come. You wailed when he added a third and Ari swore he had never heard or seen something so beautiful before. The movie that was you feeling this level of bliss from him made him feel warmth and pride through his chest. He needed to be inside you.
Ari pulled out his fingers, swirling his tongue around them and sucking them clean, moaning at the sweet taste. His eyes rolled back and he nearly came from the culmination of partaking in your pleasure up to that point. You couldn’t help but clench against nothing, watching the specks of lust within the love in his gaze after that as he leaned down and framed your face with his large hands. He leaned in to kiss you, then pulled away as his dark blue irises, thin around his blown pupils, shifted between your eyes.
“Are you ready? Are you sure?” It came out breathy and strained. He wanted this as badly as you, after taking everything step by painfully slow step for nine months together.
“Yes, Ari. Please. I just want to feel you so close.”
He nodded and ran the head of his cock
up and down your folds, gathering your arousal before perching at your entrance. He kept one hand at his base, the other on your cheek as he looked deeply into your eyes. You felt the bulbous tip breach your entrance, almost with a pop as your tight warmth welcomed Ari.
“Ah, oh, Angel, you’re so tight.” Ari nearly yelped at the feeling of being inside you. You watched as he couldn’t help but let his eyes flutter closed from the overwhelming pleasure. “I’ll take it slow, promise.”
All Ari wanted was for you to enjoy this as much as him, and when he was able to pry his eyes open to see the way your face was contorted, your eyes as sincere and pleading as his, he knew you were. He slowly pushed in further, accompanied by a deep moan from you. Neither of you were virgins by any means, but something about this moment with Ari felt like being born again, straight into delectation.
He pushed another inch in, slowly, and your hands flew to his broad back, nails digging in the muscles that firmly blanketed his scapulas. His hips jumped at the sting, pushing him in to the hilt, causing you both to brace against each other at the fullness and all encompassing warmth.
His head dipped into crook of your neck, breath fanning your collar bone and beard sending tingles through your body as he sucked on the spot that gave you chills.
Your hands ran down his back and to his ass, pulling him in closer to you, if that was even possible.
“Ari, I need you to move.” You felt him nod against you and his hips pulled out only a few inches before rolling back in.
You breathy moans were close to his ear, spurring him on to keep going faster, pulling out farther and pushing in deeper until the warmth from your core began to climb up your body again. He found a rhythm and could feel as your pussy began to clench.
“Duchess, I can feel you’re close. It feels so good. You’re always so good to me.” His praise pulled you that much closer to the edge, hands grasping for purchase across his back, slipping slightly from the thin layer of sweat.
“Fuck, Angel. So tight. It’s okay, you can let go. Let go for me.” Ari needed you to come for him. He needed to feel your body sucking him in, holding him tighter. He pulled his head from your neck to look into your eyes when it happened. He moved his thumb down to your clit, rubbing tight circles and sending you over the cliff you were hanging on.
“Oh god, Ari!” You keened, your ankles locking around his narrow hips as your entire body contracted in ecstasy. Ari wasn’t far behind, the tightness surrounding him causing him to drive his hips all the way forward and spill into the condom. He collapsed over your chest again as he grunted lowly into your ear.
The two of you stayed there for a few minutes as you caught your breaths. He pulled back, his now dry hair draping over the sides of his face and framing yours, making a small world where it was only the two of you. His silky brown locks blocked everything else out. The only thing in existence was your shared gaze, filled with hazy satisfaction and dopey smiles.
Ari leaned down and kissed your lips, and then your forehead before he whispered to you. “I’m going to pull out, okay? You stay here while I go get a washcloth.”
You nodded and gasped as you felt the sensation of the ridges of his dick passing against your walls until you were empty. On instinct you rolled over to your side and closed your legs, still sporadically convulsing from the orgasm. Ari returned and cleaned you up, pulling up the covers and crawling into bed behind you, wrapping his strong arms around you and pulling you closer.
He kissed you shoulder and muttered. “I’m so happy to have you. I love you so much.”
You turned over and tangled your legs with his, pulling him in for a lazy, filthy kiss. “I love you, and I’m the luckiest person in the world. Or more like, my whole world was just in me.”
You winked at Ari as his shoulders bounced in laughter at your ridiculous statement. You were drunk in happiness, but neither of you would have it any other way. You slung your arm around his waist and nestled deeply into his chest, a satisfied smile on your face.
rules: share your favourite lines or paragraph you've written from one of your fics, posted or wip.
tagged by @lover-of-mine @bidisasterevankinard @diazsdimples @dangerpronebuddie @hippolotamus
so ofc suddenly I'm forgetting everything I've ever written lol but here's some of the most recent ones idk
from I wanna breathe you in
“Both.” Buck nods, so confident and sure in this. “I want- I want my family, my friends to know that I’m- that I’m bi.” he says, a smile splitting his face. He’s taken a minute to label himself, but when he found this one, it felt right. Bisexual. That’s what he is, that’s what feels like him, like Buck, like Evan. Like all the parts of himself that felt scattered and chaotic and weren’t making any sense are finally settled in the right place, glued together by this realization, by this one simple word – bisexual. The only person who knows so far is Maddie, and he wants to tell everyone else, wants them all to know, and wants to share how happy he is. Besides, he thinks she’s going to explode if she keeps it from Chimney any longer – and once Chim knows, well, even with the best intentions, he sucks at keeping secrets. He doesn’t want Tommy to be his secret. “And I want them to know you’re my boyfriend.” he adds confidently.
from I'm comin' back, don't let me go
He feels like every single action, just getting up, getting dressed, pouring a glass of water, getting something to eat, just anything takes much more effort than it should, than it used to. Living takes much more effort than it used to. Sometimes he thinks maybe it’d be better if he-
He doesn’t want to die, not again, not really, but he can’t help thinking that he’d rather not be here. Not when he feels the way he feels. He doesn’t feel like himself, he’s just putting up a front, a Buck-shaped mask in front of people. He feels like a hollow, empty vessel. He just- he doesn’t want to be here.
from you can see it with the lights out (you are in love)
It’s sweet and soft, and it makes Buck’s stomach flutter even more, but at the same time it feels like everything is finally as it should be, like relief, like coming home after a long trip, like taking a breath of fresh air after being in a smoke-filled burning building. It feels familiar, like home, like they’ve been doing this forever, like maybe they’ve been in love through multiple lifetimes, always finding their way to each other. It’s a ridiculous thought, a little bit, that he knows Eddie would fondly roll his eyes at and tell him there’s no such thing as past lives or fate. Buck believes what he believes, though. He feels like he’s loved Eddie for an eternity, and he’ll love him for another one, or a hundred, or a thousand eternities, as long as the world keeps turning, and if there’s anything after that, then even longer. He’s never been more sure of anything in his life.
also this from my most recent fic bc for some reason i just love this little moment haha - we don't know where this is going now (don't be afraid of heights, let me open your heart wide)
“I know.” Evan chuckles, his gaze settling on Tommy’s. “I just- I really want to.”
“Okay.” Tommy repeats, smiling, and waiting. It’s fine if Evan changes his mind, but this is his to initiate. Tommy will wait. He’d wait forever, is the thing, and it’s scary, with how short they know each other.
“Okay.” Evan echoes, and then he’s grabbing Tommy’s chin, similar to how Tommy grabbed his during their first kiss. His thumb nestles into his cleft, and Tommy sees a flash of an endeared smile before Evan’s lips are on his, fingers not letting him go.
no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @thebravebitch @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck
Okay, purr, so the second Quinn got on the flight to head to Edmonton for his third last game of the season Honey had her two best friends come over and help her take care of Warren because she knew she would be going into labour soon and wanted to make sure someone was there just in case for not only herself but also Warren.
It was kind of expected, but also she was really shocked and scared when she went into labour, mainly because Quinn wasn’t even in the same province and it was all happening so fast.
One moment she was organizing the nursery with her one of best friends as the kids played in the playroom, and all of a sudden she just started getting contractions and then everything got really busy really fast. She called Quinn but he didn’t answer, cause he was on the ice, instead she left a short breathy voicemail and two short messages, and then she headed to the hospital.
She was actually pretty fine health-wise, but she was scared and felt really alone while waiting for Quinn. Even though one of her best friends was in the room she just needed her husband and a promise that he was gonna make it on time.
Honey called his brothers and her family a few times to tell them that the baby was on the way and they chatted for a bit but then Quinn finally called her back and disrupted their peaceful phone call.
Quinn on the other hand was in a frenzy trying to get home. The second he read his text after doing his post-game interviews he was panicking trying to figure out the fastest route to get home.
He read the short "I'm in labour. Please come home" and immediately started to freak out that he was going to miss one of the singlehandedly important moments of his life.
The second she picks up the phone he's like "Please tell me I didn't miss it"
Honey just laughs at his slight panic, "Quinn I've been in labour all of an hour and a half, you have time," she laughs but then the laughs turn into tears, "I do need you to hurry up though, I really need you here," she sniffles into the phone which sends Quinn into an even deeper frenzy.
All the other dads in the locker room get it, but also are like "Act like you've been here before my god??" cause he is so all over the place and he has plenty of time to get home in time.
He thankfully made it in time, and Hayden was born just a few short hours later.
Quinn definitely cried when he had his first kid, but there was something about having a little girl that had him really emotional, cause she was the most precious thing he had ever laid his eyes on.
Honey had stayed pretty strong on the crying, but watching him interact with his daughter definitely had her emotional, he just kept whispering short "thank you's" and "she's perfect, you're perfect's" to his wife which had her on the brink of tears.
Honey was literally a god, she had the perfect birth and the nursing staff were literal gems and helped her through all of it.
Hayden kind of looks like a blonde carbon copy of Quinn and it's the cutest thing ever, whereas Warren carries a few of Honey's traits, Hayden is just all Quinn.
Warren got dropped off in the afternoon after everyone had had some time to sleep and the doctors and nurses had finished all of the post-birth routines.
He was very excited to see Quinn again, squeals leaving his lips as Quinn retrieved him from Honey's best friend, the two of them hugging at the entrance of the hospital before Quinn told him all about his baby sister.
The little boy was a little skeptical because she was crying when he first walked in the room, but the second she was gently placed in his lap it all changed, he kept saying how much he loved his baby Hayd and how pretty she was as she rested in his arms.
This had almost every adult in the room in tears as his little hands traced patterns on his sister's head, her eyes closing as she fell asleep in his lap.
it was definitely hectic, but also so cute, and everyone is just super happy to have a healthy baby and mama!!
She’d survived the very worst a person could, lived through things that still kept her up at night, the screams of other innocent people ringing in her head as sleep evaded her.
She’d survived so much, but she didn’t think she’d survive leading him to his death.
A Hunger Games AU
-x-
Hi friends,
Thanks so so much for the love on this fic so far <3 Like I've said countless times before, AU's are nerve-wracking - especially one as unhinged as this one - so I really appreciate the support.
Please let me know what you think <3
Note: tumblr is tumblring, so tags aren't necessarily working. Please interact with this if you see it <3
-x-
Words: 3k
A full list of warnings can be found on the series master list
Read over on Ao3, or below the cut
“You should get some sleep.”
She scoffs as she turns to look at Dave, tearing her eyes from the screen just for a moment before she looks back at it, her lips pressed together as she shakes her head, “I can’t sleep.”
Dave sighs and sits down on the couch next to her, he sits so he’s in her line of vision, blocking the television, and he smiles at her with so much sympathy it makes her want to scream. She looks away, the opulence of the apartment they were always put in when in the Capitol makes her feel suffocated, the large expansive space with amenities people at home couldn’t even imagine putting her on edge.
It had always been something that had irritated her, the cruelty of the fact she was living like this whilst children were fighting to the death never failed to make her skin itch, but this year it felt worse. The knowledge that Aaron could die and she couldn’t do anything to help beyond hope he made it out alive made sleep almost impossible, the thought of waking up to find out he’d been killed whilst she was sleeping was too much to bear.
Especially because her sheets still smelt like him, the lingering scent tricking her into thinking he was right there with her the first few seconds she was awake, a precious moment of joyful ignorance of the reality they lived in.
“I don’t know him as well as you do, but something tells me if he comes out to find you sleep deprived and barely hanging on he won’t be happy,” Dave says, and Emily smiles wryly and nods.
“That’s true,” she says her gaze drifting back to the television, anxiety building in her chest as she once again desperately hopes to see him on screen, to have the reassurance that he was still alive. She can feel Dave’s stare burning into her and she turns to look at him, concern bleeding out of him in a way she hadn’t seen since her own games, “What?”
“Have you thought this all the way through, Bella?” He asks, his tone nothing short of loving, the kind of judgement free affection she’s sure she would have had from a father if she’d had one who hadn’t left when she was young.
“Thought what all the way through?” She asks, purposely acting like she doesn’t know what he is talking about.
Dave wasn’t stupid, she knew that, and he would know Aaron had been sleeping in her room the entire time they’d been here. He also would have known that he’d been talking about her to Gideon, not Kate like almost everyone else including her had assumed. He’d been playing this game since before she was born, aware of the ever changing and twisting rules. Rules that had been created to make sure even the winners walked away with no real victory.
He smiles softly and sighs, “If he survives and you two…do this. There will be expectations of you both,” he clears his throat, choosing his words carefully, both of them well aware that there was no such thing as a private conversation here, “You would have very little choice in what your life would look like.”
She hadn’t allowed herself to think about it in any great detail beyond the hope that Aaron would survive, that the rushed confessions on the rooftop the day before he went into the arena wouldn’t be all they’d ever have. He’d slept in her bed that night too, and for the first time, they didn’t fall asleep on opposite sides of the bed. She’d curled up in his arms and rested her head on his chest, the same position they always woke up in, and she fell asleep and dreamt of a world where he would come back to her.
She knows that Dave is right, that if Aaron did survive and their relationship was public, something that was unavoidable, there would be expectations from President Barnes. They’d have to get married, which even if they wanted to it wouldn’t be anything like what they’d choose. It would be a spectacle, the celebrity status that came with being a Victor something she hated. They’d be expected to have children. Children she didn’t want because she already knew what their fate would be, destined to follow in their parent's footsteps at some point. Children she once said she’d never have but would love with her entire heart until they were taken from her by the same people who had made her have them.
It was unbearable to think about, pre-emptive grief for something that might not even happen if Aaron died filling her lungs.
She blows out a shaky breath and she nods at him.
“I know,” she says, laughing humourlessly, “But I’ve had very little choice in what my life looks like since I threw that fucking knife,” she says, wiping the one stray tear that had escaped her lashline away, getting rid of it as quickly as it had appeared, “At least with him…”
“You wouldn’t be alone in it,” Dave finishes for her as she drifts off and she nods again, forcing another sigh from him before he stands up, his hand on her shoulder as he squeezes tightly, “Just make sure he understands it all too,” he says, his smile soft, full of hope that seemed misplaced, “When he makes it out.”
She chuckles and nods, placing her hand briefly over his before he lets go. She knows it’s his way of saying he approves, that he hopes it works out for her, and she’s sure she’s never been more grateful for him.
“I will do.”
___
By day three of the games there are only ten tributes left. They hadn’t made it beyond the initial bloodbath with both of their tributes in years, so it felt like nothing short of a miracle that both Kate and Aaron were still alive.
Dave insisted that she came with him to a viewing party, and convinced her that they had to keep up appearances and act as if this was just normal games for her, as if the man she was in love with wasn’t part of the show they were all watching whilst getting drunk.
She groans as she sees Ian Doyle walking towards her, a familiar smirk on his face that makes her skin crawl
“Well, well, Emily Prentiss. You’ve been ignoring me,” he says, and she smiles politely at him, the same smile her mother had taught her when she was young painted across her face.
“Yes,” she says, taking a sip of her drink, “And until right now it was working.”
Ian had won when he was 13, one of the youngest ever winners, a decade ago. He was vicious even then, a violence to his victory that had stood out to everyone. He’d pursued her for years, flirting with her the moment she’d turned 16 in a way that had made Dave ultraprotective of her, purposely making sure there was distance between them whenever possible.
“Now come on, that’s not very nice,” he says, smiling as he steps in closer, the smell of whiskey and smoke washing over her, “How about you let me take you out when this is all over?” He says smiling, “My tributes didn’t last long, yours probably don’t have much longer…we can drown our sorrows.”
She chuckles, fake interest dripping from her smile as she leans in, “Not even if the president herself demanded it.”
She thinks he’s going to say something else, his pride clearly hurt, but an explosion tears her attention away from the conversation and she looks at the screen, her breath catching in her chest as she watches Aaron get thrown from his feet. He’s flung through the air like he weighs nothing, like she didn’t know that simply having his arm thrown over her waist was enough to pin her in place. She swallows thickly as she walks closer, shrugging off Dave’s attempt to hold her back, and she does everything in her power to make sure she doesn’t physically react, her shoulders tight as she comes to a stop.
The relief she feels when Aaron stands up is palpable, his weight against a nearby tree as he stumbles, stunned by the explosion. It takes him a few seconds to steady himself and then he’s up again, running towards where the explosion had happened.
It’s only then that she sees Kate, and guilt washes over her as she realises she hadn’t even thought about her, all of her focus on Aaron.
He drops to his knees next to her, his hands immediately covered in blood when he touches her, her injuries clearly too extensive to survive.
“Kate,” Aaron says, shaking his head as he looks around as if searching for help they both knew wouldn’t come, “You’ve got to hold on. I…” he swallows thickly as he pushes her onto her side to see the damage, his eyes going wide when he sees the mess her back is in, exposed bone and muscle drawing gasps from the crowd around Emily.
“Is it bad?” Kate asks as he lowers her back down and sits down next to her, looking over his shoulder for more danger, trying to stay alert in case someone comes to finish what they started.
“Does it hurt?” He asks instead of answering her question and she shakes her head, “Good. It’s good it doesn’t hurt.”
Kate smiles tightly and nods, “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“When…when you said what you said during your interview, you were talking about Emily weren’t you?”
It feels like a lifetime passes as Emily watches him weigh up his options. Everything around her comes to a stop, her breath catching in her chest as she stares at him, the way he nods in response makes her close her eyes. She can feel everyone looking at her, can hear the whispers as they all start to gossip.
“Then you need to make sure you go back to her,” Kate says, her voice getting weaker, her words slurring together, “One of us should go back home.”
Aaron nods and he reaches out for her hand and squeezes it tightly, “I’m sorry.”
She shakes her head, “Don’t be,” she says, her eyes drifting shut, “It’s not…”
She drifts off, her words dying in her throat as a cannon rings out in the arena, making Emily jump ever so slightly, the sound always taking her right back to the arena herself. She looks back up at the screen and watches sadly as Aaron stands up and takes one last look at Kate before he walks away, a new determination in his step.
“Well,” Ian says, standing so close to her she can feel his breath on her neck. She turns to look at him, making a point of scrunching her nose up in disgust at him, “Now I know why you turned me down.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Ian,” she says, taking a step back from him, “I’ve never needed an excuse to turn you down.”
She walks away, making eye contact with Dave as she does so, and she desperately makes a point of ignoring how everyone is looking at her, how she feels like an animal in a zoo for the first time in years.
___
Emily jumps awake, not aware that she’d even fallen asleep in the first place as she gasps for air, her hand pressed against her chest as she takes in her surroundings.
“Emily, you’re okay,” Dave says, smiling softly at her, his hand on her shoulder as she looks around, realising that she had fallen asleep in the living room. Her eyes go wide as she looks over to the television, and Dave clears his throat, drawing her attention back to him. “He’s okay too. He’s still alive.”
She nods rubbing her eyes as she sits up, “How long was I out?”
“Only a few hours,” he says, “The girl from five and the boy from seven died.”
She frowns, “That leaves…”
“Just Aaron and that creep Foyet from four are left,” Dave says and he stands up, “It’s why I woke you up. They’re getting ready for the grand finale.”
She blows out a shaky breath and she stands up, “I’ll get ready. I assume they’ll want us all out there.”
“We can sit this one out, Bella,” he says as she starts to walk towards her room and she freezes in place. She turns to look at him, and he smiles sympathetically, as if she’d already lost Aaron, and it makes her ache, “We can make an excuse. Stay up here and give you some privacy.”
She stares at him for a moment, affection for her friend, for how he’d protected her over the years flooding to the surface. She walks over and hugs him, sinking into the embrace when he hugs her back.
“We should go,” she says, smiling tightly at him when they pull back, “The first rule of being a Victor?”
He smiles as she repeats what he’d said to her when she made it out of the arena, when she was scared and traumatised and wishing she’d died too.
“Keep up appearances,” he says squeezing her shoulder before she steps back, “You won’t have long.”
She nods and walks towards her bedroom, she pauses when she looks at the bed, the bed she hadn’t slept in for days, and she walks over her hand hovering over the pillow that had become Aaron’s. She picks it up and presses her face into it, breathing in the scent of him, letting it wash over her for a moment.
“Don’t die on me,” she says quietly, “Not now.”
She gets ready in a haze, grateful that she’d turned down her stylist team, not sure she could cope with putting on a brave face until the last possible moment. When they get out to the main square it feels like everyone is looking at her instead of at the giant screen in front of them all, Aaron’s confession about loving her still lingering in everyone's minds all these days later.
She’d always hated the jubilance that came with this, the excitement that lingered in the air as people were waiting to find out if they’d won their bets, if they had made money from the deaths of children. She had been bewildered her first time here, the year after she’d won. She’d felt out of place, like she was underwater as she watched people act like it was the party of the year whilst she wondered what people had made of her victory. If they thought it counted because she’d, according to some people, cheated by using the forcefield.
She looks up at the giant screens, watches how the game makers clearly try and draw Aaron and George Foyet together. She stands tall, uses everything her mother had taught her about politics, about how to survive in the world they lived in. She uses everything Dave had taught her about being a survivor, what Penelope had taught her about the Capitol. She was the sum of everyone she’d ever known, of everything she had survived herself.
She just hoped she’d get the chance to help Aaron do the same, to be part of what made him whole again.
“I have a good feeling about this,” Dave says as he turns to look at her and she scoffs, shaking her head.
“You’ve never lied to me before,” she replies, crossing her arms over her chest, “Don’t start now.”
“He’ll make it back to you,” he says, winking at her in a way that relaxes her and makes her furious in equal measure, “He’d be a fool not to.”
She smiles at him, his attempt at calming her down having worked, albeit briefly, but she’s drawn back to the spectacle of the games when she hears a yell, a scream she knows is Aaron. Foyet has him pinned down, a knife in his hand that glints in the artificial sun as he draws it out of him, the grunt that leaves Aaron animalistic.
“Emily-”
“Don’t,” Emily says, cutting off Dave’s platitudes, her hands clenched by her sides as she stares at the screen, “Come on Aaron,” she says under her breath, “You’ve promised me a date.”
She isn’t sure where Aaron gets his strength from, isn’t sure how he overpowers Foyet, but he does. He rolls them over, knocking the knife out of his hand at the same time, and he punches him. Hard. It’s something he repeats again and again, and she finds it oddly mesmerising. The crunch of Foyet’s bones, the sound as his teeth gave way under fists that had never been anything other than soft with her.
Foyet collapses, his head falling to the side as he passes out, and Aaron breathes heavily as he pulls back, his knuckles bleeding from where his skin had broken against the other man’s face. He tries to stand up but he stumbles, falling next to Foyet, his hands against the wounds he’d given him, blood seeping through his fingers as his eyes drift shut.
The transmission cuts out, the screen goes black and the crowd yells in disappointment. Emily turns to Dave, her eyes wide as she looks at him.
“What’s going on?”
He opens his mouth to respond, some half-hearted attempt to make her feel better, but he’s cut off by the loud booming sound of a single cannon going off in the distance.
a/n: Hey everyone! It's been a while. Inspiration for the closure of this short story came to me recently, so I've finally been able to write it and get it to you all! I'm really proud of how their little story turned out. I hope you like it.
word count: 10.5k
warnings: THIS STORY CONTAINS SMUT! MINORS DNI!!! swearing, drinking, smoking, angst, arguing, fluff; SMUT: kissing, sexually explicit language, dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, spanking, choking, slight biting, tiny bit of breeding kink if you squint, soft dom josh <3
You wake up to your alarm wailing in your ear, shaking you awake. Fuck, you think to yourself. I really need to stop going out on weeknights. You roll out of bed and quickly get ready in the bathroom, coming to terms with the fact that you’ll be late for work. Luckily for you, your boss is your father, so you don’t have anything to worry about.
You’re still in Frankenmuth, working for your dad at the music store, your life staying as consistent as ever. But it was comfortable, and comfortable is exactly what you need. A few years back, you got a business degree with hopes of taking over the business for your dad after he retires. Your younger brother wasn’t as into music as the two of you are, only playing guitar every once in a while. He moved to Chicago three years ago to go to Northwestern to study economics, leaving you here to take over the family business one day. That’s still a solid five or ten years away, but you’re prepared. You already practically run the place, working from open to close every single day.
This didn’t bother you. You were perfectly content with that being your life. You loved music and you loved teaching it, so you were happy, truly. But every once in a while, your mind would wander to the ideas of what could have been, and you get stuck there. You hated when your mind would wander there, to him. It sent a sickening feeling throughout your entire body and you would be stuck, frozen in time. Frozen in the past.
Sitting back in your chair behind the counter in the empty music store, you start to doze off. On a random Tuesday morning like this, hardly anyone ever comes in. It’s way busier in the early evenings and on the weekends, but someone had to be here. You usually have another worker come in around 3 pm, but it’s only you until then on weekdays.
You feel your head start to fall heavily to the side and you’re so lost in your exhaustion that you don’t hear the chime of the bells on the door jingle. You don’t hear the silent figure approaching the counter, watching you curiously as you breathe slow, long breaths through your slightly open mouth. But you’re suddenly jolted awake when the mystery figure taps the little bell on the counter and your head swiftly rushes upright, making you hit it harshly against the wall behind you.
“Fuck!” you exclaim, raising your hand to rub soft circles against the back of your head where you hit it against the hard plaster. As you start to recalibrate yourself, your eyes finally fall onto the figure in front of you who was responsible for the bell. “Sam? Is that you?” The tall man in front of you smiles widely, his dimples appearing at the ends of his mustache.
“In the flesh,” Sam smiles confidently, leaning his long arms onto the counter. “Hi, Smalls. Long time, no see.” You roll your eyes at the old nickname, standing up from your chair to round the counter and greet him.
“You really don’t have to call me that anymore, Sam. We’re grown now, you know,” you joke, bringing him in for a tight hug. He chuckles above you, patting your back lightly.
“You’ll always be Smalls to me, no matter how old we are,” he teases, rustling your hair on the top of your head playfully.
“You’re an idiot. What the hell are you doing here? Aren’t you guys a little too big now for this town?” you ask, releasing him from the hug and leaning your back against the counter. He slots his hands in his front pockets with a laugh as he starts to answer.
“We’re really not all that,” he says modestly, looking down at his feet before looking back up to your gaze.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Sam. You guys are selling out arenas left and right… you’ve big-timed us for sure,” you answer with a playful scoff. He just shrugs, avoiding talking too much about their success.
“Whatever. We’re just here to visit Mom and Dad for a while before this next leg of the tour, that’s all. It’s a long one, so they wanted to see us.” You nod, fiddling with your fingers.
“So, you’re all here? All three of you?” you ask apprehensively, slightly afraid of what you know the answer will be. He rubs his hand on the back of his neck nervously, then nods.
“Yeah, we’re all here. Jake and Josh are back at home, they sent me out to go to the grocery store for a few things. Clearly, I got sidetracked…” he says, chuckling at the end. You smile and laugh with him– Sam could never complete an errand without getting distracted somehow.
“I see… well, it’s good to see you. You’ve really grown up, I’m proud of you,” you say with a smile, crossing your arms as you lean back against the counter.
“Thanks, Smalls… It’s really nice to see you, I’ve missed you,” he says earnestly, walking a bit closer to you. “We all have.” That sentence cut straight through to the heart. God, you didn’t think this would be so hard.
You’d successfully managed to evade interaction with them each time they’ve come into town over the years, but now you couldn’t avoid it. It’s been four years since you’d last spoken to Sam Kiszka, or any of them for that matter. You didn’t cut them all off intentionally, but it just happened in the aftermath.
“Right, I… I’ve missed you too,” you say hesitantly, backing away to go back behind the counter.
“Y/N, I think my parents would really like it if you came by for dinner tonight. It would be nice, just like old times,” he says, looking down at you hopefully. Great, exactly what you’ve been dreading.
“Oh, I really don’t know, Sam. I don’t think Josh would…” you trail off, looking down at your feet.
“Look, I’m not entirely sure about what happened between you two, but please. Please come to dinner. It’s been years, I’m sure he’s over it,” he pleads. You’re not too sure about that, but they don’t know the full story. “I promise, Smalls. Just think about it. My number is still the same as before, just send me a text after your shift ends and let me know what you decide, okay?”
Shit. He never makes it easy to say no to him. The puppy-dog eyes still work on his 25-year-old face, the same as they did when he was 18. You were no match for it, and he knew it, too.
“Okay. Okay, fine, I’ll think about it,” you concede, exhaustion coating your voice. “But no promises, alright?” His face lights up with an eager nod. He reaches over the counter and pokes your nose with his pointer finger, eliciting a giggle out of you as he smiles then turns around toward the door.
“Okay, Smalls, I’ve got some shopping to do. See you later!” he yells opening the door and walking out of the store.
God, this was going to be a long day. It wasn’t at all like how you expected it to be. You went through the rest of your shift worrying about the worst-case scenario of how dinner could go down tonight. Before you know it, it’s already 3 o’clock, and your dad walks through the doors.
“Dad? What are you doing here? I thought Parker was supposed to be coming in tonight,” you ask as he approaches the counter. He shrugs, heading to the office behind the counter and setting his stuff down on his desk.
“He called out sick, so I just decided to come in for him,” he says casually, slipping a sweatshirt on over his head. You nod, your mind trailing back to your current predicament.
“Did you know that the Kiszkas were in town?” you ask, looking over at him. His eyes shift guiltily as he approaches you.
“Yeah… I caught Kelly outside on the porch the other day and he told me about it. I’m sorry that I didn’t warn you about it. Didn’t want to upset you,” he admits, rubbing your shoulder softly.
“It’s okay, Dad. I’m fine,” you say, lying through your teeth. If anyone understood how you felt about your fallout with Josh, it was your dad. He was there for you through it all, as you tried to bury your feelings by working endless shifts at the shop. He says it never gave him any bias, but you know that secretly, he felt differently about Josh since that day. No matter what, he was always on your side.
“Sam came in here this morning. Asked me to come to dinner at their house after work,” you admit, fiddling with the hem of your t-shirt.
“Oh. Are you going to go?” he asks apprehensively. You look up at him and see the concern in his eyes.
“Uh, yeah. I think I will. Sam really wants me to and… it’s been four years. We’ll have to get over it some time. Might as well be now,” you say, trying to seem as sure as possible, despite how unsure you actually felt. Your dad raised you to be strong, and you wanted to be that person for him.
“Okay, if you’re sure,” he says, offering a reassuring smile. You nod with a smile.
“Why don’t you just head out now, hon? I can handle the rest of the night. You just go home and get ready for dinner,” he offers, not giving you any time to protest before he walks off to do inventory in the back of the store. You shrug to yourself and decide to just go home, grabbing your tote from the office and heading out to the front of the store to your car parked in the front space.
The store is only a ten-minute drive from home, so you’re back before you know it. You pull into the driveway then gather your things, heading inside. You walk in to find your mother in the kitchen, cooking some dinner.
“Hi baby, how was work?” she asks, turning around to face you.
“It was alright, pretty slow,” you say, stopping in the kitchen to talk for a moment.
“I talked to your brother today, he should be coming home in a few weeks after finals are over,” she says, stirring the food in the pot as she talks.
“Oh, that’s cool. That should be nice,” you remark, your mind wandering, making you unable to entertain the conversation much more, so she changes the subject.
“Are you hungry? I’m making some pasta with vodka sauce right now if you want some,” she asks. You weren’t sure how you’d explain this situation to her, but you have to.
“Actually… I’m going to the Kiszkas for dinner,” you answer quietly. She stops stirring in her pot and looks at you, her eyes drooping just like your dad’s did not long ago.
“Oh! That’s quite a surprise,” she answers honestly, her face feigning excitement but her eyes give her away.
“Mom, it’s fine. I’m fine. Seriously, it’s no big deal,” you answer, trying to convince yourself as well as her. She gives you a small smile and nods, and you take your leave up the stairs to your bedroom. Over the years, you’ve renovated the large attic in your parent’s house so that you had more of your own space away from them in your adulthood, while still living at home. It’s been nice and quite private, you’ve really made it your own.
As you set your bag down on the floor and sit down on your bed, your mind travels back in time to the last time you saw Josh Kiszka. You still wonder where it all went wrong. It was perfect, truly perfect– until it wasn’t. The worst part about it is that it was nobody’s fault, there was no one to blame. You wondered for years if it was just the right person but the wrong time, but those delusions soon faded away as the years progressed and you still never heard from him. He’d moved on, and so had you.
“I just don’t understand why you won’t just come with us! You’d be perfect there– I need you there!” Josh shouted, slamming his hands down on the counter in frustration as you leaned your back against the kitchen counter, keeping your head low.
“Josh, it isn’t that fucking easy! I can’t just pick up and leave! I have responsibilities here! My job, my family!” you yelled with your head in your hands.
The band made plans to move to Nashville, Tennessee by the end of the month, hoping to record their music there instead. Their success had shot up significantly since the two of you got together, with money pouring in and new music being recorded left and right. You knew they’d outgrow you and this town, but you didn’t think it would happen this soon.
He begged you to come with him, insisting that you could find a job down there and live with him and Jake, but that wasn’t what you wanted. You made a commitment to your father, having started online business classes with UMich in January with hopes to someday run the shop yourself. Josh knew that, but he insisted that you come with him.
“Don’t you think I’m making sacrifices here, too? I don’t want to have to leave my parents, but it’s our destiny, Saph! This is what I’m meant to do, I thought you’d understand that,” he groaned, shaking his head angrily. Tears start to fill your waterline as you struggle to get your words out.
“Of course I understand! I’ve always believed in you, you know that! Since day one, I’ve supported you!” you yelled as the tears started to escape from your eyes. “You know we’ve always had different goals, this town has always been my whole life. And you’ve always been destined for more. I knew that from the start.”
“If you know that this is what I’m destined to do, then why can’t you just come with me?” he asked with a sigh, rubbing his temples.
“Josh, I love you. I love you more than anything I’ve ever loved in my entire life,” you said, tears spilling down your face. “But this is your dream, not mine.” You watch as his eyes start to water, mirroring yours. His face drops as the realization kicks in.
“So, that’s it then? You’re just giving up? You’re giving up on us?” Josh asked accusingly, stepping closer to you, but you backed away.
“I’m not giving up, Josh. But we want different things,” you answered honestly, your voice shaky.
“All I want is you, Saph. I love you so much. Please,” he said, his eyes pooling with tears. He stepped forward once more, reaching his arms to your waist and attempting to pull you closer. “Please just come with us.” You shook your head, backing up more.
“I’m sorry. I can’t,” you said, looking into his eyes as they filled with despair.
“You’re breaking my heart, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice cracking. Your heart sank.
“And you’re breaking mine,” you answered, taking one last look at him before turning around and heading toward the back door in the kitchen, yanking it open and rushing out. As you rushed home, you wiped the tears from your eyes, not wanting your parents to see you that way. And that was it. That was the last time you saw Josh Kiszka.
Deep breaths, Y/N, you tell yourself as you look at yourself in your bathroom mirror. You pull your hair back half-up, putting the small section of hair into a little bun that sits on the back of your head. You pull a few front pieces out to frame your face and then pull a brush through the rest of your long, wavy hair. You’ve got this.
You throw on a grey flannel over the cropped tee you were wearing, which contrasts well with your distressed dark grey jeans. You slide on your Converse and then sit down on your bed to check your phone.
Sammy: Hey, Smalls. Did you think about gracing up with your presence at dinner tonight?
You breathe out a quiet laugh and shake your head at his sarcasm as you type your reply.
You: Don’t get your panties in a twist, Samuel. I’ll be there.
It doesn’t even take a minute for him to respond.
Sammy: Knew you’d come around. Come over around six?
You slide down on your screen to check the time — 5:28 pm. Okay, you still have some time.
You: See you then.
You fiddle with your fingers as you sit on your bed, waiting for the appropriate time to go downstairs and walk next door. The entire situation stressed you out beyond belief. You’re not sure how you managed to get yourself into this mess in the first place, you had done such a good job at avoiding them when they’d come to town for the past four years. But now, it was unavoidable.
How is Josh going to react? After you left that day, he left you dozens upon dozens of voicemails and text messages, all of which you ignored. After a week of trying to get you to talk to him, he eventually relented. He gave up. At the time, it stung somehow. You didn’t understand it, you wanted him to leave you alone and let you both move on, so why did it hurt so bad when he finally did? It was all so complicated and screwed up. You just hope that he isn’t still upset with you after all this time.
“Josh, honey,” your mom says from the kitchen, making you turn your head to look at her. “Could you turn that movie off? It’s almost time for dinner.” You nod and take your feet off of the coffee table, reaching for the remote, and reluctantly turning the TV off. No matter how old you got, you still always helped your mom with dinner. It was a tradition at this point, as silly as it sounded.
“Boys, it’s almost dinner time!” she yells, trying to get your bothers’ attention from the garage, which had a door connecting to the kitchen. You hear muffled ‘okay’s from behind the door and soon enough, your brothers emerge from the garage and storm the kitchen.
You get up from the couch and watch as Sam walks over to the dining room to set the table and Jake opens the fridge and takes out a bottle of white wine to drink with dinner. You decide to enter the kitchen and help her transfer the food to the serving dishes.
“Oh, Mom,” Sam starts from the dining room as he gathers the folded napkins from the pantry. “I forgot to tell you earlier, I stopped into the music store today on my way to get groceries. Y/N was there.”
Your movements come to a halt as you hear the words fall from his mouth. How could he just bring her up so casually? You quickly try to shake it off. It’s been four years, it’s nothing. You probably won’t even have to see her, anyway. You’ve gone this long without running into her, anyway, probably by her own doing.
“That’s nice, sweetie. How is she doing?” your mom asks kindly as she hands you an empty dish to transfer the pierogis into. You take the dish into your hands and walk over to an empty counter space to set it down.
“She’s good! I actually invited her to come to dinner tonight,” Sam said nonchalantly with a shrug.
“What?” you exclaim instinctually, your mouth agape as you stare daggers into your little brother. Before you even realize what’s happening, you’re startled by the sound of the dish you were holding falling onto the ground and shattering into pieces. You didn’t even feel yourself drop it. “Oh God, Ma I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I’ll go get the broom, don’t go anywhere.”
You shake your head and curse under your breath as you rush down the basement steps to grab the broom and quickly run back up to the kitchen. As you clean up your mess, you listen silently to the conversation, too embarrassed by your behavior to say anything else.
“I feel like I haven’t seen Y/N in ages,” you hear your twin remark from behind you, leaning against the wall, crossing his arms. He needs to wipe that smug look off of his face before you do something drastic.
“I know, it has been a long time. It’ll be nice to catch up, won’t it, honey?” your mom asks sweetly, turning over her shoulder to look at you with an encouraging smile.
She knows every single detail about what went down between you and Y/N four years ago. She was here to pick up the pieces. Jake, not so much. While she was there comforting you, your twin was just blinded by his ambition. All he cared about was how great Nashville was going to be, for the both of you.
“You don’t need Y/N, Josh. You have us. We’re your family,” Jake said apathetically as the two of you packed up your things. You just scoffed, shaking your head as you folded your clothes and placed them into your bags.
“That’s not the point, Jake. I really wanted her there, and now I don’t know who I am without her,” you admitted, not looking up from your bags in hopes of not catching Jake’s sharp glare.
“You’re Josh fucking Kiszka, lead singer of a band that’s going to make it BIG, that’s who you are,” Jake said confidently, patting your back. “We’re only just getting started, brother. Mark my words. Years from now, you’re not even going to remember her name.”
He just didn’t get it. Your other half always had an easier time with everything: getting girls, getting over girls, and everything in between. Nothing fazed him. It wasn’t that easy for you. You’re a writer, for God’s sake. An artist. You were nothing without a muse.
“Just make your own muse then,” your brother had said.
And that’s just what you did. Once the four of you got to Nashville, all you cared about was the music. You didn’t let yourself get distracted– no girls, no guys, nobody. Just you and your notebook and your dream. And it’s worked like magic ever since, you didn’t need anybody else besides your brothers and this band. The news of her coming back into your life has now set you back to four years ago, like nothing has changed. But everything has.
“I don’t know, Mom. I don’t think she’s gonna want to talk to me, after everything…” you trail off, turning your back against your family as you try to focus on the task at hand.
“I still don’t understand what even happened, Josh,” Sam says, rolling his eyes. Of course, he didn’t get it either. He was always fond of her, you assumed he had a small crush on her for most of his childhood. Whatever that was has surely passed on by now, but Sam was always protective over her. He was your brother, at the end of the day, so of course he was on your side. But you always knew that he was sad over her absence, deep down.
“We were just different people, Sam. It wasn’t meant to be, that’s all. It doesn’t matter now,” you mutter, not looking up from the floor as you finish sweeping.
“If it doesn’t matter now, then why would she still be upset with you?” Sam asks, frustration coating his voice. “When I talked to her earlier, she seemed to think that you wouldn’t want to talk to her.”
“Oh,” you breathe out, not sure what else to say. Why on Earth would she possibly think you could still be upset with her after all these years? You couldn't admit it then, blinded by young love and all the firsts you shared. But you knew it was for the best, in the end. She didn’t want to leave, and you couldn’t make her.
You were glad that she let you go when she did, rather than moving with you and growing to resent you. She wanted to stay, and you needed to go. You’ve come to terms with it. Do you still think about her every now and then? Sure. The what-ifs do tend to creep in at night sometimes, but you always quickly shove them down. You have no room for what-ifs in your life right now. Things are really starting to pick up with the band, with your world tour and impending new music that you’ll be teasing any month now. The last thing you needed right now was to worry about the one that got away.
“Just try and talk to her, okay? It can’t hurt,” Sam says, walking past you to go sit on the couch now that he’s finished setting the dinner table. Yes, it can, you think to yourself, knowing better than to actually say it out loud. You just simply nod, grabbing a new dish and transferring the food over.
“Okay. I’ll talk to her,” you concede, covering the food with aluminum foil and then walking over to the dining table to place it down in the center. You run your fingers through your hair nervously as you walk back to the kitchen and finish helping your mom plate the rest of the food.
You hear your dad walk in through the front door and he enters the kitchen, kissing your mom on the cheek before going to sit on the couch with Sam. You watch as he reaches for the remote and turns the TV on, switching the channel to put on what seems like the hockey game.
“Hey, I was watching something there! Now I’m going to lose my place!” you scold, walking toward the living room and leaning against the wall.
“Josh, you were watching Silence of the Lambs for the millionth time, I don’t think you need to worry about losing your place,” Jake teases, walking into the living room to sit on the armchair and recline.
“Yeah, Josh. C’mon, the Red Wings are on, it’s almost playoffs,” Sam says matter-of-factly. You hear your dad chuckle at the banter, turning the volume up. Traitor.
“No! No more TV, Y/N will be here any minute now. You four are unbelievable,” your mom scoffs from the kitchen, shaking her head as she finishes preparing the food. Your brothers groan loudly and your dad reaches to turn the TV off. You swallow deeply as you wait nervously for Y/N to arrive. You don’t know what to expect, and that scares you. Maybe it’s because you were the oldest, or maybe it’s because you have a Cancer Moon, but you like being able to predict what will happen next. Now, all of that was completely out of your hands.
5:56 pm. Time to go, you suppose. You really don’t know what to expect, but Sam reassured you that everything will be fine. In all honesty, it wasn’t the possibility of Josh being upset with you that worried you. You were worried that, the second you saw him, your entire world would cave in. You were worried that you would just want to fall into his arms and apologize for everything you said.
But you knew that you couldn’t do that, you can’t. He’s come too far now to be pulled down by you. He seemed truly happy and successful, who were you to come waltzing back into his life and tear it all up? No. You had to be strong. For Josh, and for yourself.
As you approach the Kiszka’s porch, you take one last deep breath before laying a few soft knocks on the front door. You hear jostling behind the door and a distant “I’ll get it, I’ll get it!” before the door finally swings open with Sam’s wide grin greeting you.
“Honored guest! Welcome!” he exclaims, reaching out to grab your arm and pull you inside, shutting the door behind you. Your eyes scan the room as you enter, smiling at Sam’s antics before the inevitable happens. First, you see Kelly and Jake sitting in the living room, turning over their shoulders to look at you. But as your eyes drift to the kitchen ahead of you, you see him.
You knew it was too late to turn back now, despite the strong urge to leave now while you still can. But you can’t run away, not this time. You watch as his posture shifts when he feels your eyes on him, straightening his back as he leans against the wall. Your eyes soften as you take it in, almost unsure of where to start.
He looked so different. Yet somehow, as you looked at him, it still felt familiar. You thought that you would feel uncomfortable or unwelcome, but no. You feel safe.
His hair was styled much differently now, his fluffy, curly hair now shaved short on the sides of his head. His cheeks were still as rosy as ever, adorned with little white dots along the cheekbones. You like it, you decide. He always knew how to stand out.
His once bare face was now decorated with a dark mustache and goatee, much like Sam had, but not nearly as long. Josh’s was more clean and precise. Just like him.
He’s wearing a plain white t-shirt with the sleeves rolled slightly. You can see that his arms have gotten bigger since the last time you saw him, which didn’t surprise you. The boy you once knew truly grew into a man, standing in front of you.
They all had. Jake looked so different, with his hair sitting right on his shoulder, sporting some facial hair of his own. He looked more serious now, which wasn’t a bad thing. You should feel proud, but all you feel is regret that you weren’t there to see it.
“Hi,” you say shyly, already beating yourself up on the inside for it. Just hi, seriously? That’s how you want to start? Jake gets up from the armchair on your right to approach you, reaching out to pat your arm supportively.
“It’s great to see you again, Y/N,” he says with a closed-lip smile. “Do you want a drink? I was just about to open this bottle of Chardonnay that I picked out for dinner, if you’re interested.” You nod and follow him to the kitchen, passing Josh on your way there.
His eyes follow you as you walk into the kitchen. You don’t say anything at first, but as Jake works to open the bottle of wine, you decide to work up the courage.
“Hey…” you start, walking over to him as he shifts his body, turning to face you with his back against the wall.
“Hey, Y/N,” he answers, slipping his hands into his front pockets nervously. Ouch. You weren’t necessarily expecting him to use your nickname, it’s been years since you saw each other and the nickname itself was rooted in his feelings for you. But hearing your real name fall from his mouth still cut like a knife. You suppose that if you wanted him to use your nickname, you’d have to earn it.
“You look good,” you say, fiddling with your fingers in front of you as you look behind you to see if Jake has opened that wine bottle yet. God knows you’ll need it. Josh’s eyes drop suddenly at your words, almost as though he didn’t expect it. Fuck, why did you say that? Making him upset certainly wasn’t your intention when you gave the compliment, you just didn’t know what else to say. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that– stupid…” you start apologizing, but he stops you.
“No, no, it’s okay. I was just taken aback, that’s all,” he says honestly, concern covering his face. He’s still as empathetic as he always was. You knew he would be, you don’t know why you’d expected anything else. “So do you. You look… radiant.” Before you can let him see your cheeks flush, you turn around as Jake extends his arm to hand you a very full glass of wine.
“Jeez, that’s one heavy poor, Kiszka,” you joke, taking a short sip of the wine before leaning your back against the wall opposite of Josh. The younger twin chuckles at your words, taking a sip out of his own glass before answering.
“Hey, I figured you could use a little extra. What’s the harm?” he says with a shrug, leaning against the kitchen counter. You smile at him, looking at him as the two of you exchange a silent look. It’s clear that he knows how tense this might be for you, and you feel grateful for that. Maybe this dinner wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Karen descends the stairs and walks into the kitchen, calling everyone to the dinner table. She greets you, of course, expressing how glad she is to see you after so long. You really did feel guilty over abandoning the rest of the Kiszkas when you and Josh had your falling out. They were like a second family to you throughout your entire childhood, so you missed them so much.
The boys rushed to the dinner table, clearly starving from the looks of it. Obviously, they all had their own “assigned” seats around the table, with Josh and Jake sitting next to each other, with Sam sitting across from Jake. The seat across from Josh was probably reserved for their sister, Ronnie, but she wasn’t here, so you suppose that seat’s for you. Timidly, you approach the seat and sit down, looking at Josh quickly before averting your eyes and watching as their parents take their own seats.
Dinner itself actually went really well. Karen asked you questions about your life recently, and you talked about your brother going to college, as well as your own business degree and your plans to run the shop. Josh kept mostly to himself, eating his dinner silently while sneaking glances every now and then when he thought you weren’t looking.
You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, though, and that made you feel uneasy. Was he uncomfortable with you being there? Did he want you to leave? Or was it possible that he wanted to talk things out? You hoped for the latter, wanting to at least give both of you some closure. You were hopeful that he wanted that, too.
Before long, Karen was coming around the table to gather the dirty dishes. As she approached your seat, you pushed your chair back and stood up.
“Here, Karen, let me help,” you say, picking up your own plate, along with Sam’s. She thanks you, and the two of you walk to the kitchen together to put the dishes in the sink.
“Do you want to dry them once I’m done washing them?” she asks, and you nod eagerly. You get into a rhythm soon enough, finishing the dishes in only a little over five minutes. “I like having a helper around here. These boys always get so lazy after they’re done eating.”
“Tell me about it,” you answer with a laugh. “I used to have to drag Josh up off the couch to go anywhere after we’d had a meal.” The memory was fond but fleeting as you gaze into the dining room to see Josh’s eyes locked on you. Shit, you probably shouldn’t have brought it up. His attention was soon drawn back to his brothers as Jake snapped his fingers at him, trying to get him back into whatever conversation they were having.
“It really is nice to have you back here, Y/N,” Karen admits with a soft smile. You return it with a gentle nod and she retreats to the living room to sit and watch the rest of the hockey game with Kelly. You stand there for a moment alone before you look over to see the boys getting up from the table.
“We’re gonna go jam in the garage for a bit. Might be good to get our creative juices flowing in the place where it all started,” Jake says, nodding his head to his brothers as he walks over to the door to the garage.
Sam quickly follows with Josh behind him, who stops at the door and turns to you both. Your eyes lock for a moment before he looks behind him at the garage, then back at you, seeming a bit conflicted.
“Hey, I’ll be in a little later. You guys start without me,” Josh says to them, with his eyes still on you. They were searching for something on your face, some sort of sign. You caught on rather quickly, walking toward him to reach for the door to the back porch, opening it apprehensively. You step out onto the porch and he follows, shutting the door softly behind him.
You walk to the porch swing on the far side of the porch, patting the cushion next to you to tell Josh to sit next to you. You sit in silence for a few moments, unsure where to begin. You open your mouth to start to speak, but Josh beats you to it.
“So, you come here often?” he jokes, looking down at you with a smirk. You giggle and look down at your feet, the cliche successfully breaking the ice.
“As a matter of fact, I do. I live right over there, you see,” you say smartly, pointing to your house behind you. A laugh erupts deep from Josh’s chest as he looks over at you with a genuine smile– something that you haven’t seen in so long. It almost felt normal, all of this, in that moment. Almost.
“You don’t say,” Josh answers with a grin as he reaches into the back pocket of his pants. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a red lighter, pulling one out of the pack.
“Cigarette?” he offers, stretching his hand out to you with it between his fingers. Your eyes travel from his hand to his face, looking back at him with an awkward smile.
“Oh, I don’t smoke,” you say honestly, your cheeks flushing with a bit of embarrassment as he smiles at you awkwardly, sucking air between his teeth.
“I knew that,” he says, retracting his hand and placing the cigarette between his lips. You laugh, the idea of knowing each other so well but also not at all feeling terribly ironic. He knew you, once. He knew what you used to be. But the girl you were at 22 was very different than you are now at 27, in more ways than one. For better or for worse, you’ve changed, and so has he.
Was it possible to get to know the new version of him? Did he want you to know him? Do you want him to know you? At this moment, sitting on the back porch in the same spot that you sat in for most of your youth, you believe that you did want to know him, and him you. Did he want that too?
Josh lights his cigarette quickly and then slides the pack and lighter back into his pocket, taking a drag before resting his hand on his knee and looking back at you. Why were you so intimidated to say anything? It was just Josh, the same Josh you once loved. Once. What were you so afraid of?
“I almost didn’t come tonight,” you finally admit, leaning your arm onto the back of the swing as you shift your body toward him. He raises his eyebrows at your honesty, shifting his body toward you in return.
“Why did you?” he asks honestly, searching your face for an answer. You weren’t sure what the answer even was, but you tried nonetheless.
“Honestly? I’m not quite sure,” you say, fidgeting with your hair. “I think part of me hoped to get some closure. Another part just wanted things to go back to the way they used to be.” You didn’t expect yourself to put it all out in the open like that, but you realize that the large glass of wine loosened your lips more than you thought it would.
“Things can’t go back to the way they used to be,” Josh says quietly, taking another drag of his cigarette and blowing it the other way. Your eyes shifted to your lap nervously.
“I know. You’re right,” you whisper, now avoiding his gaze. You sit silently for a moment before he finally speaks up.
“You’re happy here?” he asks, giving you time to respond. You finally look up at him and his eyes soften as your eyes meet, the same soft eyes you’ve always known. A dark brown color in the darkness of the spring night, only catching the light every once in a while when he turned toward the porch light.
“I am, I think…” you answer, almost hesitantly. He nods silently. “Are you? Happy there? Is it everything you hoped it would be?” He pauses for a moment, seemingly collecting his thoughts.
“Yes, I’m happy there,” he admits, biting his lip slightly as he ponders his next thought. “But is it everything I hoped it would be? Not so much.” Your eyes fall sadly at his words, inching a bit closer.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Josh,” you say, rubbing his arm softly. He flinches slightly at your touch, making you retreat entirely, scooching back to the other side of the bench. He takes another drag of his cigarette and shakes his head.
“It’s just a bit lonely. It’s only work there, no play,” he says softly. “I love the music, don’t get me wrong. I’m making the kind of art I always wanted to make. I just hate doing it alone.”
Oh. He isn’t over it. That much was clear. You can’t help but feel responsible for his suffering. But you knew you weren’t, this wasn’t your fault. You were never meant to move down there, it wasn’t right.
“You’re not alone. You have your brothers, you have friends,” you say supportively, hoping to steer the subject further from the harsh truth. He shakes his head again, taking an extra long drag from his cigarette.
“That’s not what I’m talking about,” he says, a bit of frustration hanging on his tone. When he catches it, he shakes it off. “Look, it doesn’t matter really. Forget I said anything.” You nod, looking over at him to find that his eyes are already on you.
Music starts to pour out of the open windows of the garage behind you, startling you a bit. You could hear Sam’s keyboard and Jake’s guitar playing a song that sounded familiar to you, but you weren’t sure why. It must be one of theirs. Surely you heard it in one of their practices all those years ago.
“What’s this one called?’ you ask, referencing the song coming from the garage. Josh’s lips tweak into a small smile as he answers you.
“It’s Heat Above. It’s from our second record,” he says. You nod slowly, recognizing the name.
“I think I know that one,” you say with a timid smile.
“You listened to the album?” he asks with slight surprise. You nod again, inching a bit closer once more.
“Of course I did. Listened to the new one, too,” you admit, fiddling with your fingers in your lap. When you look back up at Josh, he’s smiling widely.
“You listen to our music,” he says proudly. You return the smile and look back down at your lap, hoping to avoid him seeing the blush that’s started to cover your cheeks.
“Sometimes, yeah…” you mumble, “You know I always loved hearing you guys play. That never changed.”
“I just thought you might’ve avoided it… like you have us,” he says, which forces you to look back up at him. Here we are again, back to this topic.
“I wasn’t avoiding you…” you start, but he gives you a stern look. “Okay, fine. Maybe I was. But I just wanted to give you some space, you were really upset with me when you left. I didn’t want to rehash it all.” The closed-lip smile on his face as his dimples caved in was enough to catch your breath in your throat.
“You didn't have to avoid me, Saph… I was fine. I was handling it on my own,” he says softly. There it was. The nickname– finally. You still don’t feel like you’d earned it, but it was clear that he was growing soft on you. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t spark up the butterflies in your stomach that you thought were long gone.
Comfortable silence fills the air as you look over at him, only inches away from you. As you sit together on the porch swing, the same one that you used to sit on together every summer, you can’t help but feel your heart swell in your chest.
His eyes drift downward every once and a while as he takes drags from his cigarette every minute or so. You know he’s looking at your lips, he has to be. For a moment, you wonder if he wants to kiss you. Do you want to kiss him? It feels like you do, but you know you shouldn’t. It’ll throw you right back to where you started, two people with different goals in life. But despite the glaring truth, your conscience starts to fly out the window as you let your gaze drift to his lips as well.
He takes one last hit of his cigarette and then puts it out in the ashtray on the table next to the swing. Music still flows loudly from the garage as the two of you sit there together in the quiet night. He turns back toward you, his eyes drifting to your lips again before you decide you can’t take anymore. Your hand leaves your lap and moves to rest on his waist, rubbing his side lightly with your thumb.
“Josh?” you start, unsure if you want to continue the way you intend to.
“Yes, Sapphire?” he answers, making your heart jump inside your chest. The nickname was effective before, but now it felt like something different entirely. How he had so much of an effect on you with so few words baffled you. It was something that you’d never experienced before and likely never will again.
“Are any of those songs about me?” you finally ask, keeping your eyes on his in an effort to feign confidence. You watch as his gaze softens and he nods slowly.
“Yes, some of them are,” he admits earnestly, his eyes darting to your lips as your proximity becomes even more apparent.
“Are some of them about someone else?” you ask, already knowing the answer. But you wanted to hear him say it–no, needed to. He was so close that you could feel his warm breath against your face, sending your mind reeling.
“There is no one else,” he says, his voice deep and low. You breathe out a slow breath, trying not to look relieved. The corner of his mouth tweaks up into a smirk as his eyes burn through yours. After a few more moments of silence, where the tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife, your eyes soften as the gap between you gets even smaller.
“Please,” you whisper, a quiet plea for him to close the gap and give in to all of the desire that was looming over you. And that was all he needed to hear before his soft lips encompassed yours.
The breath is stolen from your throat as Josh’s lips crash against yours, his hands wrapping around your waist as he pulls you closer. You almost have a double-take for a moment, wondering if this was really happening, before you’re snapped out of it by the feeling of Josh’s tongue gliding against your bottom lip. You give him access and his tongue slips past your lips and dances with your own, making you sigh quietly against his lips.
The feeling of his hands on your body and his mouth finally on yours is almost too good to be true. Were you dreaming? Surely not. His touch brings you back to reality, his hand grazing your ass and grabbing it tightly. God, you missed this. You missed him. You cursed yourself for even having doubts, but you do. Before it goes any further, you pull away, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pause to think straight.
“Josh…” you whisper, resting your forehead against his softly.
“Don’t think so much,” he says, brushing a piece of your hair behind your ear. “We can talk later. This feels too right to stop now.” After he speaks those words, it all feels reminiscent of a distant memory. Your first time, five years ago.
“Josh…” you start, rubbing your thumb along his cheek.
“Shhh,” he whispers, bringing his finger to your lips. “We can discuss it later. Right now, I just need to feel you… gotta make sure that this isn’t some sort of dream.”
Some things never change… Without ‘thinking too much,’ you just simply nod and stand up from the swing, taking his hand in yours.
“Come home with me?” you ask, lacing your fingers with his. A smile creeps across his face as he nods.
“I’m offended that you even felt like you had to ask,” he jokes, letting his arm be dragged by you as you exit the backyard and enter your own, entering the house through the backdoor. Your parents are in bed by now, so the two of you move swiftly up the steep steps into your attic bedroom. Once you enter your bedroom, you shut the door behind you and lock it.
The room is lit only by the string of lights along the back window, giving you a limited view of the man in front of you. You approach him, placing your hands on the back of his neck as he wraps his arms around your waist softly. Up close, you can see the clear smile across his face. It brought you joy, to see him happy, and to know that you were the reason for it.
Your lips finally find his again, backing him up quickly until the back of his legs hit the bed. He turns you around, laying your back against the bed as he hovers over you. His hands move to slide your flannel down your arms slowly, tossing it on the floor before leaning down to kiss hot, wet kisses across your jaw and down your neck.
His hands find the bottom hem of your shirt, pulling up on it lightly as his lips pepper kisses down your neck. You nod feverishly and he leans back to pull your t-shirt up and over your head, leaving you in just your bra. Josh’s hand strokes your cheek softly and then travels down your neck to your chest, grasping your breast over your bra, making it spill out slightly.
He pulls his own shirt off, throwing it on the floor behind him before leaning back down to kiss down your collarbone, stopping at your bra strap. His finger slips underneath the strap and pulls it up, snapping it against your skin. You let out a light moan at the sensation and you watch him laugh at you before lowering his face to yours.
“God, you’re desperate for it, huh?” he asks, his nose brushing against yours as his eyes darken. “So needy.”
A quiet whimper leaves your throat involuntarily as one of his hands glides down your side to hold you still at your waist, while the other reaches behind your back and undoes the clasps of your bra in one swift movement. He pulls it off, tossing it to the side before lowering his mouth to your bare chest and taking one of your nipples into his mouth.
You throw your head back as his tongue swirls around the sensitive bud relentlessly. It was almost like he was starving, unable to stop himself as he pleasured you. The thought itself turned you on even more, almost becoming too much to handle.
One of his hands starts to work on the button of your jeans, undoing it before slowly sliding down the zipper. Without even bothering to pull the jeans down, his fingers slip underneath the waistband of your panties and immediately dip into your folds, eliciting a whine from you. A smirk grows across his lips as he dips his fingers through your folds a few more times, teasing your entrance before sliding his pointer finger inside of you with ease. His pace is relentless, curling his finger deep inside you before inserting a second finger, making your eyes roll into the back of your head.
“Josh, I–” you start, struggling to get your words out. He flashes you a smile as he quickens his pace, bringing you closer to the edge. “Josh, enough. I want to feel you, please.” He smirks as you beg for him, his ego growing even bigger knowing the effect he had on you. He removes his fingers from you and then grips the hem of your jeans, yanking them down and pushing them to the floor. He stands up off the bed and unbuttons his own pants, dropping them to the floor along with his boxers.
God, he was just as beautiful as you remembered. You’ve relived this moment dozens of times before, on nights when you were lonely and longing for him. It happened more than you’d like to admit. His chest was even more sculpted than the last time you’d seen him this way, bare in front of you. He had grown into this strong, sexy man that you almost didn’t recognize. But he was someone that you were desperate to have.
“I’ve pictured this moment so many times, but it’s still even better than I ever could have imagined,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him on top of you. His lips attack your neck, sucking dark marks along it as you writhe underneath him.
“You’ve pictured this, baby?” he asks, his eyes dark as his strong arms hold you still on the bed.
“Yes,” you nod, melting into his kiss as his lips press against yours. His hand aligns himself with you, rubbing your sensitive clit as he talks to you before slipping inside.
“Tell me what you thought about,” he says, his eyes burning through yours, dark with lust. Before you have time to answer, he pushes himself inside you to the hilt, making a stifled moan erupt from your throat. Your nails dig into his back as he pulls out almost entirely before slamming back into you harshly. “I said tell me,” he repeats, his voice low and hoarse. His hips start a brutal pace as you try to collect your thoughts, unable to think straight.
“I– fuck,” you start, quickly interrupted by a harsh slam of his hips as the tip of his cock brushes against your cervix. “I thought about how badly I wanted to feel you inside me again. Just like this,” you finally answer, throwing your head back against your headboard.
“Yeah? Did you touch yourself while thinking about feeling me deep inside you?” he says, his right hand resting on the back of your neck as his thumb strokes the front of your neck softly. You nod swiftly, your eyes squeezing shut at the sensation.
“Yes, so many times,” you mutter, your eyes still shut tightly.
“What else?” he asks as you whine underneath him, struggling to keep going. “Open your eyes, look at me,” he asserts sternly. Fuck, he was so hot when he was in charge, you never wanted it any other way.
“I thought about when you’d be rough with me… so fucking hot,” you spit out, your eyes half-lidded as they lock on his. He curses under his breath and slams his hips extra hard against yours.
“Fuck,” he groans, pulling his hips back and pulling out of you before swiftly flipping you over onto your knees. Without warning, he pushes back into you and sets a steady pace, his hand gliding from your hip down your back to the back of your neck. He pushes you down by your back as he slams into you, his tip hitting that special spot inside you repeatedly. You whine underneath him as the pressure inside you starts to build.
You wince as you feel Josh’s hand crack down on the swell of your ass, eliciting a high-pitched squeal from your mouth. As he fucks you deep into the mattress, his hand comes down on you a few more times, smoothing out the spot softly after each flow to your soft skin. You hear him panting behind you, muttering a slur of curses each time his hand cracks down on you, the sound of you whimpering underneath him almost enough to make him cum right there.
Josh’s hand wraps around your throat, holding tightly as he pulls you up, his warm chest pressing against your back. The new angle is almost excruciating and your mind is numb, you’re unable to speak. He brushes your hair to the side, planting harsh kisses on your shoulder blade as his neck holds firmly on your neck, squeezing ever so slightly.
The roughness was partially thanks to how much the tension built up, yearning to break free. But you knew that it was out of frustration too. Frustration over you not leaving with him all those years ago, and you deserved it. At this moment, if this was punishment for your decision, you wanted nothing else.
“Is this rough enough for you, baby?” he mutters against your skin, his other hand moving from your waist to rub tight circles around your clit. You whine under your touch, knowing that your climax is near. “Is this just what you wanted?”
“Yes, yes, feels so good,” you breathe, desperate for your release.
“Perfect,” he whispers, moving his hand from your throat to grasp one of your breasts, his fingers pinching your nipple harshly. God, you were so close. “I’d do anything to make you feel good, Saph. Anything.”
Your orgasm crashes over you at that moment, the burning, white-hot sensation washing over you more intensely than you’ve experienced in God knows how long. Your mind goes foggy and you grow stiff against his touch as he kisses your cheek softly and helps you through it.
“I’m not gonna last much longer, baby,” he whispers against your skin, kissing down your neck as his thrusts speed up. “Where should I…” You lean your head back against his shoulder as he gets even closer, overstimulation almost taking over you.
“Inside. Fuck, please,” you plead, and he moans in your ear as he slams his hips into you harshly, chasing his own high.
“Shit, Saph, that’s so fucking hot,” he mutters from behind you, his arm holding your tightly against him as he grows closer. “Gonna fill you up, just like you want. Fuck, I love you so much.”
Your mind is so cloudy from the feeling of Josh inside of you and his lips on your neck that you almsot don’t register it at first. Before you have time to respond, he slams his hips into you one last time before you feel his release shoot deep inside of you. Your eyes roll back just from the feeling of it: warm, perfect. You knew in this moment that you were his. You always have been, and you always will be. It didn’t matter if you were together or apart, you were his.
He thrusts a few more times, pushing his cum deep inside you before pulling out slowly, laying you down on the bed softly. He plants a soft kiss on your shoulder, stroking your bare back softly before getting up from the bed and walking to the bathroom behind you. Moments later, he returns with a towel, soaked in warm water to clean you off with. Once he’s convinced you’re clean, he wipes himself down quickly before tossing the towel back into the bathroom and then lying down next to you on the bed.
As he lays down on his back next to you, you scooch over on the bed, placing your head next to his on the pillow and putting your hand on his warm, soft chest. He leans over, placing a kiss on your forehead with a quiet sigh. As his fingers start to ghost over your arm sweetly, you finally break the silence.
“I love you, too,” you whisper, nuzzling into his neck as you shut your eyes, knowing that sleep will soon take over you. You don’t have to see him to know that he’s smiling.
“What does this mean for us?” he whispers, the cogs turning slowly. “I have to go back to Nashville on Sunday…” You think for a moment, not wanting to jump the gun or say the wrong thing.
“I… I’ll talk to my dad in the morning, and I’ll tell him that I need to move to Nashville. With you. He’ll just have to find somebody else to take over.”
The silence is deafening. At first, you wonder if you’ve scared him away, but he speaks again.
“I thought that running the store was your dream, Saph,” he says apprehensively.
“It was. But everything is different now,” you answer, looking up at him with a soft smile. “You’re my dream, Josh Kiszka. Only you. Everything else can come after. I didn’t know it four years ago, but I know it now. It’s always been you.”
His lips crash into yours and you can feel him smiling against yours. Everything was falling into place.
the problem is that being single is seen as the consolidation prize, and not the natural neutral state of being-a-person. at the end of the movie or the book or the poetry, there is a person waiting for you at the altar, and they love you. if the play is a comedy, everyone gets married. the metaphor is about how you are not-whole. the metaphor is about how everyone is going to be happily-ever-after. the metaphor is that romantic love is the most important resource on the planet, not just all-love. all-love is not a thing, that is a disappointment. the treasure is not the friends we made along the way. the treasure is the girl you landed.
the metaphor is that you cannot be alone, that means you are broken. are you getting over someone? that is acceptable, you can be getting over someone, but not for long. you must be single because you would rather not be single. you must be single and looking to not-be-single. you must want to date, eventually.
friendship and community are never seen as being equal-to or even-better than romantic connection. that person is your one! you need to find them. you need to hunt through the sand particles until you can shift out some kind of gem. this is regardless to your own experience of the beach and the sun. you need to be somewhere with someone.
if you are taking this time alone to heal, that is so sad. everyone gives you this little pitying look. the understanding is that you are not actually happier than you were before you were single. it is seen as a sort of pity - oh, you are choosing yourself, making yourself the priority? - that isn't quite right. you must mean that you are making yourself ready for the right person. you are just laying the bed better this time. open up your heart. you'll find them, we promise!
what do you mean you're really-truly genuinely-very happy? you are probably misremembering what it was like to be in a relationship. and besides, once you meet your person, that time will look grey and bland and wasted. your person is the only way for you to see in color. so what if you have taken this time - for the first time in your entire life - to actually-for-real do the fucking work. you can be proud of yourself, sure. but the way we need to know that you got better is that you get a partner. you're healed enough for the next bad part!
people don't choose to be single, they just say they're choosing to be single - they actually mean "nobody wants to date me." it doesn't matter how many people you have gently rejected or how many times you've talked it over carefully in therapy. what matters is that you are single, and by all accounts - that means you are something worth our pity. your successes and life all seem pale in the sunlight. sure, you have done amazing things and finally found your way in life. what matters is that there wasn't a person in the room with you while you did it.
you want to tell them - that's the whole thing. i didn't know how to be alone in the room. i didn't know how to handle the silence. every moment was so sharp, and i kept choosing the wrong way to close the door. i have spent my entire life in the empty well, living in the ricochet of someone else's cruelty. for once i have built myself a ladder. for once everything i taste is all mine, every bite of sunshine and laughter. i have learned how to sleep out in the open with my memories. recently, they have started to purr.
your father rolls his eyes. listen. this isn't about you. i just want a grandchild in my future.
There are a lot of things I'm sad about in my life. You don't get to go through the kind of medical trauma I've been through and come out unscathed on the other side.
But one thing I'm really bitter about is that I can't remember my wedding anymore. The pernicious anemia took it from me and wiped my brain clean. Except it's not clean, not really. I remember it in patches. Like red wine stains on a white rug that have never quite lifted out no matter how hard you try.
I look at the pictures on my bookcase, and they feel like remembering a story someone else has told me. There's a young woman in a white dress wearing my face, and she looks happy. I'm happy for her. But you can see the strain around her eyes, too. The pain she's hiding because no one with authority believes her when she says her body doesn't feel right. That something is Wrong.
They won't believe her for another decade. They won't believe her until it's almost too late, and it's that lateness that will rob her of her memories and turn them into a wavering rainbow suspended in the fine haze of watery sunlight that occasionally surfaces through the blanks.
There's one memory that's real, though. Solid. It's not my vows. It's not my father walking me down the aisle. (Though those are there, just hazy and dream-like). It's our first dance.
It's the lights dimming around the room as the staff cleared the floor, causing the fishbowls full of white roses and LED lights on the tables to wobble like pools of moonlight against dark paneled walls.
It's the band inviting us out onto the floor and us giggling because we know what's coming next, and no one else does. It's the twang of a banjo reverberating around the room through the speakers, followed by the dulcet tones of Kermit the Frog wondering why there are so many songs about rainbows.
It's us waltzing around the enclosed circle of light, singing to each other out of tune and grinning like idiots as everyone around us starts to laugh.
It's everyone joining in on the song because it's the Muppets, and everyone knows the words. It's 100+ people singing the Rainbow Connection, some laughing, some a bit tearful, because it's bringing back memories. Because it's making a new one.
It's looking up at my new husband through the brain fog and all the pain in my body and thinking, "I want to remember this moment forever."
I don't know what entity was out there listening to me at that moment and chose to grant that wish. I don't know why this is the one memory that stuck while everything else in my brain got decimated into scattered, fragmented snapshots. But I'm so, so thankful it is.
Though, I could have done without it randomly coming on my YouTube music out of nowhere to hit me in the emotions like a brick to the back of the head. Jesus Christ.
❛ summary | peter says he's sex-starved. he isn't. he's just... adjusting to less time with his wife.
❛ tags | breastfeeding miguel, lactation kink, slight pregnancy kink, touch starved, pissy miguel, spanish is not translated, mention of violence, some cursing, f!reader.
❛ sy’s notes | written as per poll request! thank you everyone who voted.
Miguel likes to work.
Or, he thinks he likes to work.
The fate of the multiverse and all that boring ass bullshit. Peter has heard it all, twice, thrice over. What he knows is what he sees. What he sees is an overworked man running through anomaly files, sending out orders, and not spending time where it really mattered.
“Is that who I think it is?” Peter’s annoying ass house slippers flapped over the ground by Miguel’s feet. Peter’s hands rubbed together, sparking little bursts of heat between his palms. “It is! Mireya!”
Mireya, the newest addition to his small family. She was nestled comfortably in the crook of one of Miguel’s muscular arms as if it were the safest place in the entire world, suckling on what was left of a bottle of breastmilk. Miguel turned to place the empty bottle down on his desk. Peter followed, peeping over Miguel’s arm at her. Despite Miguel’s reservations, her bright brown eyes bored Peter with interest. She cooed at him. “Can I hold her? Let me hold her, it’ll be great! Aw look, she has curls.”
“My daughter isn’t your doll.”
“Look how pretty, she’s just like her mami. All sunshine and dimples and--,” Peter reached forward, easing his scrawny hands under her plush little arms and picking her up. Miguel’s hands fell onto his hips, shifting weight from one foot to the other, glancing down at his feet expectantly. “You know, for a new dad, you’re grumpier than usual.”
“Peter.”
“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he bobbed back and forth, spinning in a circle. She giggled the kind of laugh that was all sugar, making Peter grin even harder. “I mean, wasn’t Mireya your idea? Are you-- y’know?”
“Y’know?”
“Sex starved,” Peter whispered like it was a great, terrible secret. As if in this vast space of silence, someone might catch his words and convict him because of them. Miguel’s half-lidded eyes slid against one another, held for a second, then spread open in an annoyed flick. He fluttered his gloved fingers at Peter to hand Mireya over.
“I’m just saying if you need a night alo--”
“I don’t. I’m not sex-starved.”
He waved him off. His eyes fell on his daughter, boring back up at him with those beautiful eyes he had waited so long to see. He shifted his weight from one leg to another, lulling her back into her late-night slumber, cradled against his chest.
Sex starved, he said. What a shocking joke.
His room was no place for a child. It was perpetually dark, dimmed for his sensitive eyes. So, at the end of the day, Miguel had your room to return to. A real home, one with more than a ratty run-down chair and a lifetime of regrets. A home that he couldn't make alone. Miguel pressed past the bedroom door where he found you overcome by sleep. Just like Mireya in his arms.
He turned his gaze down to Mireya once more, her soft and squishy body a vision of peace. Tiny fists balled up over her belly as she slept in her soft velvet onesie. The whole world in his hands: the start of a happy little family. Only right now, it didn’t feel so happy. Those were the cycles, the push and pull of life.
Tonight would prove to be another silent night with his thoughts. His chest swelled with a rush of air, bunching up his shoulders as he moved to the adjoining room to set Mireya into her warm crib. Torn from his warmth, her palms stretched out, ready to wail. Miguel placed his hand along the wooden rail, his stomach flopping into throbbing anxiety in his stomach. She could wake you up.
"Shh," he set his finger in her tiny palm. Mireya’s small hands rested listlessly around her head. The wail never came.
“Mi vida,” your sleepy voice fell over his ears, a gentle caress. He longed to hear it from your lips again. “Is she already asleep?”
“Sí--” he glanced over his shoulder, catching just a sight of one of his favourite little slips. Dusty rose with delicate lace details. He studied the edge of the gown, flowing over your thick thighs as you walked. Shock.
“You look beautiful." You looked down at your soft belly, a mincing smile pulling at your lips. He knew you were nervous, the way your hands obscured your plush belly. Mesmerized, his finger fell away from Mireya's soft grip. Peter's words echoed in his mind, a deep annoyance. It made his skin crawl, this growing annoyance in the acknowledgment that he had no sex in weeks, months. He took a step forward.
“I hope she doesn’t sleep through the night. My breasts are full,” Your fingers skimmed the taut skin. The glint of your wedding band invited him forward as if… you should be his tonight. You were his wife-- and though he didn't expect you to give him relief, he missed you. Miguel dipped his head, stroking the sore muscles of his neck.
Are you, y'know, sex-starved?
“When does she ever..." he couldn't help from saying. He grazed his fingertips over the swollen skin of your breasts, glancing from the skin to your deep, shy eyes. His breath thinned, realizing that you were disengaging, too scared to look him in the eye.
“She does, Miggy,” you breathed. His jaw worked, annoyed. “Lately. You’d know if you came home at night.”
If it was lately, he had no knowledge of it. Every lab screen he pulled up, every status report from Lyla, and every silent night in the lab, obsessing over how his little girl was doing-- he missed it. He should be coming in more often, crossing the threshold of work to family life. His hand cupped the underside of your breast. You winced, embarrassment working on your face. You pushed his hand away, likely feeling exposed by his touch on your tender skin.
“Does it hurt?” He leaned down, mingling his smoky, musky scent with your delicate one. He leaned in to place a soft, open-mouthed kiss along your neck, the warm pulse of your skin against his plump lips.
“Miggy, you’ll wake her up.”
Your fingers laced in his before you pulled him out of the room with a click of the door. He settled his hand on the middle of the door, sliding his hand up your waist, the soft fabric crinkling over the movement. He glimpsed a look at your soft panties cupping your round ass. “Miggy, I… I can’t. I’m tired.”
Of course, you were tired-- He underestimated how much work you took on in her care. He willed the wisps of his desire to snuff out. The distant flicker of hope followed promptly after. Maybe, one day, you would want him again. It wasn't today.
“Ya veo,” he suppressed his frustrated growl, wrinkling his forehead. “Another time.”
It wasn't the next day. Or the one after that. Or the one after that.
The anomaly whirled along a cobblestone street, exploding in a cloud of dust and stone. Its many black dipped hands flickered, dulling into little more than a negligible tremor of their limbs. Everyone else noticed the complacency that came with loss of consciousness. Miguel did not.
Miguel sauntered forward, dragged it by its muddy boots out from the crumbly remnants of the wall, and whirled it into another. It wasn't moving. It was done, tired, exhausted. He didn't care, his large hand encompassing its tendril hair and smashing it over the dusty floor. A violent crack, crack, crack of its head scratched his inert need to destroy something, anything, anyone. It fell from his hands with a slump. Miguel spat a bit of blood to the side, his cheek chewed raw under the tension of the moment.
“You need to take Peter up on that offer.”
Miguel stretched his neck one way. Then the other.
“We’ve been over this,” Miguel grumbled, hiking the pummeled body over his shoulder. It gushed blood, streaming into a diluted pink with the downpour of rain. A simple contusion, Miguel said. It was just a contusion. And a concussion. Maybe a gash or two. It would heal if the thing woke up. “I don’t need help.”
“You thrashed it, whatever it was,” Jess said pointedly. Miguel’s finger ran across his watch. The air was stale without an acknowledgment of Miguel’s churning temper, growing into a churning tempest by the passing minute. He stared long and hard through his mask. She drew out the silence as she waited for his response.
“It’s a contusion.”
The portal whirled to life before them in a slurry of vivid color, an unforgiving abyss. Jess slumped her bike with weight on one thigh, hand on her belly. The longer Miguel stared at her, so full and pregnant, the more he was reminded of you. He pinched the bridge of his nose. There was no use-- he saw visages of you everywhere he looked.
“Doesn’t look like any head contusion I’ve seen,” Gwen slid into the portal. His lip curled, annoyed by the obvious objection to what he was saying. If they would let it go-- he could go on about his life, wait for this obsession with his sex life to abate. Wait for you to come back to him.
“You can’t keep taking out your—“
“I am not sex-starved!”
“Convincing.” Jess sped into the portal.
Miguel soothed the stress out of his forehead, opening and closing his palm, a current of energy coursing through his palms. They picked— and they picked— and they picked at him. At some point, he was bound to explode. He only hoped you wouldn't be in his way when it happened. He whipped the anomaly through the portal and followed after.
On the other side of the portal, there was Peter— again. Cooing with his hands on his daughter— again. His dark mask faded away, his suit wicking water off his frame. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he located you beside Jess and Gwen. You nudged its crumpled body with your shoe. He didn’t often feel ashamed of his actions. Usually, they were necessary. Something was wrong, your face pinched and curled in disgust. He felt the string of your disapproval pulling through his arms, a slight, incriminating tremor flickering through his finger. He willed it away.
“What did you do to this poor thing?” you turned to Jess, a click-click-click off your tongue. He’d hardly call it poor. “It’s overkill.”
“Girl, ask your husband,” Jess folded her arms, reclining on her bike.
“Mi Miggy?” you went to him. You leaned over, pecking his cheek with a terribly insulting kiss, tickling his jawline. He swallowed. Blinked. Then frowned and brushed off your fingers, finding the care misplaced. You could care for an anomaly but didn't care to ask him how he felt. What he needed. Your voice wilted that sunshine quality, dropping almost to a whisper. “¿Qué te pasa, Miggy?”
“Nothing.”
“Miguel--"
“I said nothing!” He knelt down, grasping its ankle and dragging it down the long, drab hall that stored a variety of anomalies. A line of blood soaked the floor, swerving after his rumbling steps. You took a step forward, snatching his wrist between your fingers. He whirled around, a tremble on his lips firmed out into an unforgiving glare. You let up the pressure on his wrist, allowing him to spin his hand free. “Déjame en paz! There is nothing shocking wrong!”
Mireya cried. So did you.
The admittance that Peter was right wasn’t one that Miguel was about to make openly.
Although he showed up that night, as you informally requested, the night proceeded awkwardly. There was no talk over dinner, not as he watched you feed his little girl, swaying by the window of the enormous city below. As you gazed into the sea of twinkling lights, Miguel came up behind you. His palms encompassed your slight shoulders, moist against your exposed shoulders. His naked chest grazed your back.
"Are you going to apologize?"
Why should he have to? If anyone listened to what he was saying-- he wouldn't be in this mess. Still, Miguel steeled his face. He placed a mincing kiss on the top of your head. His voice thinned out, barely a feather on his lips.
"I snapped."
"You did a lot more than that. You scared her."
You let him sit with his regret until you fell asleep. He debated returning to the lab or his room to try again tomorrow. But he knew his wife. You were attentive to everything that he did. You might take it as a sign of his disinterest. After minutes turned to hours, he breached the door and slid into your bed when he was sure you were asleep.
When his eyes coursed over your figure, he realized all he missed. It was too long since he felt the warmth of a real kiss. Not the brief pecks on his lips as he rushed out the door to help Jess or Gwen or any other number of spiders demanding his attention. He missed the warmth in your eyes, the way they turn into crescents with a happy smile or jaunty laugh. He longed for that sensation of your fingers combing through his hair, taking your time and curling his fluffy hair behind his ear, eyes trained on his alone in a sea of spiders. That… sensation of being the only one that you wanted.
Mireya was that for you now. He longed for it every time he came into the room, seeing you sway with his child in your arms, cradled against your breast, feeding her into a restful sleep. What he thought was a mere seed of jealousy turned out to be a terrible beast, tendrils of resentment that you can’t see what he needs. He needs you. And it isn’t his beautiful Mireya’s fault, no. It’s his.
Instead, he lay there with his palm wretched around his cock, soaked in the artificial lubricant, throbbing into his hand. He remembered his words that night. A begrudging -- Mami, give me a baby-- and how well you took him. Your body seemed to know what he wanted, swelling with his child after a few weeks. He buckled into his palm, cranking around the base and swirling up to his leaking tip, bubbling with his need. He circled his finger over the head, swiping the fluid away.
“What are you thinking about?”
Miguel paused, sweat crept down his thick throat over his broad chest. He shuddered under the weight of your silken words. His hand coiled around his cock in one more jerk, somehow accepting that he had been caught.
“Are you thinking about me? Or is there someone else?”
"Someone else?" he breathed. His lips dropped into a frown, agitation simmering to a boil. It cooled when you looked at him-- but really looked at him. The bed shifted under your weight, ruffling pillows aside. You hoisted your legs over his body, pushing his cock against your soft vulva and his stomach, breasts pushing into his face. So close that Miguel inhaled the uniquely sweet smell of your milk obscured by thin lace.
“Why would I have anyone else?” he asked, his chest distantly aching. His gaze tracked from one breast to the other. He stole a glimpse at your face, stricken with shyness. The slight pout of your lips, eyes refusing contact. “Do you even want me?”
Undoubtedly yes.
“You don’t come to see me. You don't fuck me. You don't even--"
"You're always tired."
"But you could wake me.”
“Could I? To deny me again?” It hadn’t meant to come out so passive-aggressive, but with the natural inflections in his voice, he knew you could read him like a book.
“Oh, papi," not that soft voice. He might hope again. "I always want you.“
Hmpf. Debatable.
“Even when you’re jerking off in my bed. Or couch.” You slid your pink tongue along your lower lip, guiding your body against his. The wet draw of your juices over his dick drew his sharp scarlet eyes to the sight, knocking your stiff clit with his dick. For a moment, his words failed. He should have known you would watch him.
“Is that why you're so... angry? Because of me?" He made a small noise, barely a huff. You drew his hands to your full breasts, obscured by a thin layer of fabric. This time, he smothered a groan in his chest. How pathetic, he thought, to be moaning from something as simple as your firm breasts back in his hands. What was he-- twelve? "Have I been neglecting you, Miguel O’Hara?”
“Yes-- you've neglected me,” he murmured, dragging the lace underneath each breast, knocked together by the straps of the fabric. He melded your breasts again between his hands, massaging the sore skin. His thumps flickered over your nipples, stiffening them into peaks. With a small pinch to your breasts, milk dribbled over his fingertips.
"I won't do it again," he wondered if you missed his touch by the full, grateful hum of your lips, your palms disappearing into his dark hair. You coursed along his dick again, eliciting another piteous noise of longing from his throat. "I promise."
“Hm," was the only agreement. "What a mess,” he teased, not bothering to look at you. It had the desired effect, your shoulders shyly bunching up, the cute pout of your lips, warmth in your cheeks, quivering eyes. He loved it when you looked so fucking shy, so vulnerable, and all for him. "You're leaking all over my hand."
“I’m-- sorry,” you flushed, “It… happens.”
“Mhm, you're full,” Miguel flicked his pink tongue along your stiff, fat nipple, drawing it into his mouth with a suckle. Sweet milk soothed his tongue. He hungrily drank it up, shifting his other hand back to angle his cock at the entrance of your core. A hand left his thick locks and jerked to his broad shoulder, stabilizing your hips down to sink onto him. Blood welled to the surface with your claws scratching piteously along his sunkissed skin. With a bit of resistance, he slid perfectly into your body, just like he always did. A satisfied sigh escaped his lips against your breast. It was somehow different-- the tug and stretch of his cock-- as he fucked the mother of his child. Maybe it was all in his head. “Shock, you’re gorgeous on my dick.”
“Miggy--”
He shifted to the other breast, his hands nearly stapled on your hips, encouraging you to do the work. Your warm milk slid into his mouth, down his starved throat. The pleasure of knowing he was draining you of your milk was tempered with the ever-present fact that soon, you’d have his spunk in your belly again. Your hips flushed, drawing around in quick circles, flushed with his pelvis. Small waves of pleasure grew in your belly. Your stiff clit glided against his skin, again, and again with the undulations of his hips. You felt pinned between his mouth and dick, restricted in movement, but all his, devoured by his need.
“Come here, mi hermosura,” Miguel released your breast from those lush lips, sliding his tongue along his lips to catch the remnants of your sweet milk. He slid down along the pillows, flushing your chest to his, and propped his legs slightly for a better angle. His muscular arms wound around your back, cock pumping into you with renewed vigor. He knocked against your cervix in this position, holding you fast and tight in his arms. You nestled against his sweaty chest, accepting his thrusts so well.
“Miggy-- I’m not-- on anything.”
“You're breastfeeding, close enough,” he mused in your ear as though it were a joke.
You might have argued with him if you weren’t so blinded by that fantastic juddering of his hips. As it were, pleasure rocked all thoughts of birth control out of your mind. Miggy, an ever-present lover, groaned as he held out through your orgasm milking and soaking his swollen dick in your cum. Not a moment later, Miguel forced a long stroke of his dick inside your cunt, reaching his climax buried deep in your tremoring walls. You squeezed him tight, milking him dry of his orgasm until it all faded into fuzzy pleasure. You sighed as his arms loosened, warm and full of Miguel after so long. His soft dick slipped free, cum oozing onto his thighs, but he couldn’t be bothered to deal with the mess.
He set a kiss on the top of your head, then your forehead, and eventually snatched your lips in a warm kiss. You could taste the sweetness of your milk on his tongue and flushed. Your head dropped down on his chest, listening for the gentle whining of your daughter. It was silent but for the intermingling of your heaving breaths.
After all the issues: the disappointment, the fighting with Peter and Jess, Miguel couldn’t help but chuckle. All it took was jerking off in your bed. He should have known-- you never did like to be left out on his fun. You were always a jealous lover, even at the threat of his own hand.
“Hm? Why are you laughing?”
“Peter said I was sex-starved."
“Well," you glistened a smile, kissing along his jaw. He huffed. "He wasn't wrong."
summary: if rafe cameron is so sure he doesn't need to be seen with you at midsummers, you are more than happy to oblige (or) the time you drove rafe insane with jealousy.
word count: 3.4k
a/n: inspired by this post by the sweet @writingsbychlo ♡
You were curled up on Rafe’s lap, head resting on his shoulder with his arms circled around you and his fingers mindlessly tracing patterns on your thigh as he talked with his friends around the firepit in his backyard.
You had been hooking up for a few months and recently you felt like you were right on the cusp of him asking you to make things official, exclusive. You were spending nearly every night together and every time he asked to talk or wanted to hang out you got your hopes up that this would be the time he brought it up, only to be crushed over and over again.
Deep down, you knew how Rafe felt. People who were ‘just hooking up’ didn’t beg you to stay every morning, didn’t make room in their dresser for you, didn’t wake you up with featherlight kisses to your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, face breaking into a ridiculous smile when your eyes fluttered open to find his drinking you in, they didn’t call you during a panic attack after fighting with their dad, pleading to hear your voice as the only thing that would calm them down. No, you were pretty sure you knew exactly how this boy felt, but you wanted him to acknowledge it. You ached to hear him say with pride ‘that’s my girl’, to mark you as his own.
Your eyes flitted across the fire to your best friend Olivia who wiggled her eyebrows at the sight of you and Rafe together, all too aware of the situationship you were in and how badly you wanted him. You blushed and rolled your eyes back at her, just trying to enjoy this small moment where he showed his affection for you in front of other people. She winked at you before interrupting the conversation.
“Sooo, who is everyone taking to Midsummers?”
You shot her a look that screamed what the hell are you doing!? You were still holding out hope that Rafe was going to ask you, even though it was less than a week away. Maybe he had an elaborate, last-minute surprise planned?
“Feel pretty good about my date” Kelce murmured, pressing a kiss to Olivia’s cheek as she giggled. “What about you Top, still intent on macking on Rafe’s sister?” he asked. Topper threw an empty beer can at him as everyone laughed.
“I don’t know why we even bother with dates” Rafe said. “We’re just gonna dick around together all night anyway, there’s no point.” He took a swig of his beer without meeting your gaze. You felt your cheeks warm in embarrassment and a painful ache in your throat as you tried to hold back the tears that threatened to spring forward. You met Olivia’s gaze again and she nodded encouragingly towards Rafe.
“W-what about me, Cameron?” you asked, trying to mask your feelings, to sound chill as you poked him in the side.
He looked at you sweetly, “C’mon and say what when my dad asks about you? ‘Hey dad, here’s the girl I’ve been sneaking through the back door every night and smashing while you and Rose are three doors down? Hard pass.” He laughed, focusing back on his beer and his friends as you felt his hand slide off your leg.
You allowed yourself to be genuinely upset for three days.
You didn’t sleep at Tanneyhill for the first time in months, you didn’t even answer his texts which grew increasingly more insistent the more you ignored them. You stayed home, you cried, and you contemplated what the fuck you were doing with your life. Was that really all you were to him – just someone he was sneaking around with? Did you somehow become that girl, too naïve and too stupid to see that she wasn’t and would never be anything more than a hookup?
You thought about the way Rafe reached for you and held you in his sleep, the way his hands ghosted over your body, the things he’d whisper in your ear, the times you’d ridden shotgun in his truck or he’d taken you to his favorite spot on the beach… Your heart was so sure about him, but your head throbbed with the echo of his words.
You and Olivia talked incessantly about it, dissecting everything he’d said. “Maybe he just needs a little push, a little… motivation?” she suggested, and the more you talked about it, the more you realized she was right.
If Rafe Cameron was so sure he didn’t need to be seen with you at Midsummers, you were more than happy to oblige.
The last of the hot summer sun was settling over the ocean as you climbed the front steps of the Island Club in daring three-inch heels; the added height gave your figure a perfect sway that simply begged people to watch you as you walked by. Your dress had a thigh-high slit, open back, and was the perfect color for your skin tone, illuminating you; the neckline was devilishly tantalizing, giving the desired effect of drawing all eyes to the dazzling diamond pendant that reflected the setting sun.
Rafe heard you before he saw you; rather, he heard a sea of murmurs rippling through the crowd which drew his attention to the doors just as you walked through by yourself, essentially announcing to the island that you were alone for the night.
“Geezus” he heard Topper mutter under his breath as he took you in. Normally, he would have known better and normally Rafe would have put his head through a wall for glaring at you the way he was, but even though his fists clenched in response and he wanted to turn and say something to him, he simply couldn’t take his eyes off of you; “Geezus” didn’t even begin to cover it.
You were always undeniably beautiful to Rafe: when you wore his oversized sweatshirt around the fire pit, when you were makeup-less in your wet bikini at the beach, and especially when you were wearing next to nothing tangled up in his limbs and his soft sheets, but the dress you had on, the way your hair shone in the last rays of the sun, the way you were positively radiating had his pulse throbbing in his neck, his adam’s apple bobbing and his palms sweating. Fuck, I am so happy she’s mine he thought to himself, smiling and moving to walk towards you as your eyes met his across the crowd.
You were glowing at him and sent him a discreet smile as you greeted people and made your way in his direction. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on you, to have you at his side so everyone knew you were his. You approached your friends, dropping a kiss on Topper and Kelce’s cheeks before doing the same to Rafe. You made to move past him quickly, intent on talking to Olivia when he grabbed your hand.
“Hey, hold up you-you look…” he started to say, trying and struggling to find the words to capture the way his heart was pounding in his chest.
Your wide eyes met his expectantly and just when he opened his mouth to speak, they flitted over his shoulder.
“Oh! Sorry, Rafey! Just saw someone I want to catch up with, I’ll see you later” and without another word you walked away, leaving Rafe Cameron, the King of Kildare staring and stuttering after you.
You were walking away from him? he thought. You had seemed so adamant about this whole Midsummers thing, dropping hints about going together and now here he was, practically ready to get down on one knee at the sight of you, and you were walking away from him? He was speechless. He turned to watch you go… right into the arms of another man. He looked to be about your age, the same height and a similar build as Rafe, because of course Rafe was sizing him up, how could he not? This guy had his paws all over his girl. And then, after a moment’s realization, he thought darkly, she’s not your girl…
You had greeted this guy with a huge hug, and he’d nearly lifted you off the ground, now he had your full attention and you were laughing at something he said, the most sweet and perfect sound that Rafe wanted only for himself.
As everyone took their seat for dinner, you intentionally positioned yourself across the table from Rafe. The slight of not sitting next to him where he could run his fingers up your thigh or tangle them in your own left him fidgeting instead, buttoning and unbuttoning his jacket and swirling his drink. What the fuck did I used to do with my hands? he thought angrily.
You paid him no mind, instead, leaning forward on your elbows and toying with the diamond pendant around your neck, fingering it, twirling it and sliding it back and forth on its chain.
“Holy DIAMOND, girl!” Olivia said as she took note of your necklace and leaned over to get a closer look. “Is it new, where is it from?” her eyes shot from you to Rafe and back again.
He glared at you both over the rim of his glass as he took a deep gulp, trying to act unphased but also extremely curious to hear your answer knowing damn well it wasn’t from him.
Your eyes flitted to Rafe briefly before you leaned towards Olivia, lowering your voice, but not so low that he couldn’t hear you. “It was… a gift from… someone special” you said winking conspiratorially at her.
Rafe choked on his drink just as someone was standing up at the front of the crowd to make a speech, shifting everyone’s attention and interrupting the slew of words that nearly poured out of his mouth.
Who the fuck on Kildare fucking Island was buying his girl jewelry? he thought. And then, again, he reminded himself, she’s not your girl… the thought making his whole body tense, rigid and taught in anger and frustration.
For the next 20 minutes, all he could do was stare at you as you twiddled that ridiculous necklace in your fingers, imagining what it would be like to rip it off of you and replace it with something twice as nice. He was mentally calculating how much he would spend and how quickly he could get it when JJ Maybank passed by their table. Rafe had a snarky comment on the tip of his tongue until he watched JJ do a double take at you and stop in his tracks.
Don’t do it, Maybank, Rafe thought. Don’t you dare do it.
He watched JJ eye you and the distance between you and Rafe and, deeming it safe, peddled back, pulling a glass of champagne off his tray and handing it to you with a flourish. He knelt down next to your seat and when you turned to talk to him, it left JJ perfectly eye level with your cleavage. He was whispering something to you and you rested your hand on his bicep as you leaned forward to hear him. Rafe could see you blushing, and he watched Maybank take in every greedy eyeful of you. Rafe stood up so abruptly, it knocked his chair over and rattled the plates on the table. Everyone looked up at him, including you, and for the first time that night he had your full attention as your eyes widened at his reaction.
“YN, inside, let’s go” he said simply, walking to your side of the table.
You raised an eyebrow at him and his demanding tone.
“And Maybank if you don’t stop staring at her tits, I will put your face through this table.”
JJ quickly stood up and backed away with his hands raised in surrender as Rafe approached you.
“Rafe we were just—” you started.
“— Inside. Now” he said, taking you forcefully by the arm and leading you inside and into the locker room.
“Rafe! Come on! Stop it! I want to spend the night with my friends, I don’t know what you possibly have to be mad at” you said in resistance.
And that was the very last straw for him.
“WHAT I HAVE TO BE MAD AT?!” he said, incredulous, nearly shouting. “Where do I even begin with you!? You blow me off all week, then you waltz in here looking like an absolute bombshell, wearing next to nothing – I swear to God, I’ve seen you in bikinis with more material - every guy here is leering at you. Then you’re talking to that jackass who had his hands all over you…” he said, exasperated.
At this point he was pacing, his voice continuing to rise in anger and frustration. “…And then Maybank?! Maybank of all people?! He was flirting with you right in front of me. Was it to make me jealous? Is that what this is all about? Because I’m about to lose my fucking mind YN” he said running his hands through his hair, giving you sick pleasure knowing it took him probably an hour to style it. A surprised if not amused look rested on your face as you continued to twirl your necklace in your fingers.
“And who the fuck gave you that” he pointed accusingly at the diamond in your hand, not giving you a single second to respond, “No. Absolutely not. Take it off. Right now” he said, walking briskly towards you in an effort to do it himself.
You held out a hand to stop him.
“I don’t know what the big deal is Rafe” you said innocently. “What difference does it make? I’m just the girl you’re sneaking through your back door every night to smash” you shrugged, your eyes burning at him.
His eyes widened as he heard his own words on your lips.
“No, that’s – that’s not – I didn’t mean” he stuttered.
You gave him a vicious look as you watched the gears turn in his head and he tried to string a sentence together.
“Look, I didn’t mean it like that – I shouldn’t have – what I meant was – ahh, fuck it” he said, taking a step forward and closing the distance between you in an instant, one hand holding your face firmly as he pushed you against the lockers and the other coming to rest on the wall beside you, caging you in against him as he pressed his lips bruisingly to yours, devouring you, just like he’d wanted to do all night.
You wanted to stay strong, to argue, to tell him he wasn’t going to win you over like this. But he was. He so so was as he deepened the kiss almost instantly and the pad of his thumb ran across your cheek sending a shiver through your body. When he finally felt you relent and kiss him back, winding your arms around his neck and pulling yourself flush to him he let out a small groan that almost made you forget the whole point of tonight. Almost.
You pulled back, leaving not even an inch between you. The feeling of you kissing him had calmed him down significantly. His breathing had slowed but his cheeks were still flushed and his hair was mussed. He lingered there, his nose brushing yours as he stroked your cheek.
“You’re my girl” he whispered finally.
“Are you asking or telling?” you whispered back.
“Do I really need to ask, princess?” he said, meeting your gaze with his own.
You raised an eyebrow at him threateningly.
He rolled his eyes and said in a sigh, “Be mine?”
You bit your bottom lip and pretended to think about it. “Gosh, I don’t know” you said, pressing a slow kiss to his lips “M’might have to think about it” you said, pressing another kiss there, lingering longer “Mm’might need some convincing” you said, kissing him again and running your hands up his chest.
His voice was low but steady, “I will take you home right now and convince you as many times as you need me to” he said, kissing you back through a smile.
“Deal” you replied sweetly.
You moved to leave but he didn’t let you go and when you met his gaze, his brow was furrowed, his eyes searching yours. “I am serious though, about this, about you” he said. “I’m sorry I fucked up.” He looked uncharacteristically bashful, unsure even. “Really, are you mine?” he whispered.
“Yes, Rafe,” you said as your heart fluttered in your chest “All yours.”
He smiled stupidly, so far gone for you as he kissed you again. You were completely lost in the moment until he muttered against you, “Then please for the love of God will you take that necklace off and tell me who in the hell thought they could buy you something like that?”
You met his eyes strongly, the last embers of your pain crackling there.
“No” you said simply, continuing quickly when he tried to interrupt you. “I’m going to keep it and wear it whenever I damn well please to remind you of what you have and what you sure as hell want don’t want to lose.”
He looked genuinely shocked to hear you challenge him like that and you could see a tic in his jaw as he worked it back and forth in anger.
“I… hate that” he growled. “What if I buy you something nicer?”
You shrugged noncommittally and he shook his head at you. “Fine, let’s get out of here, that dress is killing me and I have a lot of convincing I want to do to you right now.” You giggled as he grabbed your hand and led you back outside, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.
When you rejoined the party there were a few murmurs and glances as you hung off his arm. Were you imagining it, or was he taking the long way back to your table, intentionally parading you around the patio and staring daggers at anyone whose gaze lingered too long? Being seen together at Midsummers was basically shouting from the rooftops that you were official. You were glowing, he was too. You said goodbye to your friends and within minutes you were in his truck headed back to Tanneyhill, his hand rubbing circles higher and higher on your thigh, your fingers in his hair.
He threw the car in park and scooped you over his shoulder, carrying you all the way upstairs like that, which had you shrieking in delight. He didn’t set you down until you were in his room and he kissed you feverishly, his hands cupping your face, before his fingers traced your neck, nearing your necklace.
“Rafe” you muttered against his lips, a warning.
“Just tell me who” he muttered back, unable to let it go and kissing you deeper in the hopes of convincing you. “I’m already gonna to buy you a new one, you’ll never wear this again, but I need to know. Can’t stop thinking about someone else with their hands on you” he said as he guided you backwards towards his bed, pushing you gently onto his comforter and crawling on top of you.
“I don’t like it. I do not fucking like it” he growled against your lips. Under his anger, you detected a hint of vulnerability and you broke your kiss just long enough to look into his eyes, which gazed longingly at you as they searched your face. Perhaps you had tortured this poor boy enough.
You sighed, relenting.
“Olivia” you said.
He looked at you, completely confused for only a moment before the realization dawned on his face and he hung his head.
“There isn’t anyone else” he said in equal parts relief, frustration and embarrassment.
You shook your head at him.
“God I’m so fucking stupid” he said.
You giggled before reaching behind your neck to unclasp the necklace and toss it on his bedside table.
He looked at you with heat and tenderness, “I’m sorry that’s what it took for me to get my shit together. I wish it all happened differently, but I don’t regret it. You’re it for me, YN, no one else.”
He placed a kiss beneath your ear, to your throat, to your bare collarbone. “My girl” he whispered against your skin, enjoying how it felt on his tongue and the sound of your sweet laughter in response.
ft. actor!nanami kento, fushiguro toji x wife!reader (separated)
content warnings: fluff, light angst, jjk actor au, celebrity issues, cheating allegations, divorce allegations, none of them are true, misogyny, mentions of infertility, just cruel stuff based on the issues i see online, slightly suggestive (making out), toji and wife call each other "ma" and "pa", mentions/hinting of sex, internet trolls, horrible people online, pls don't read if these issues are triggering to you, shitty article names lol
wc: 2052
note: this got too long, will do other parts for the other actors instead <33 happy holidays, everyone!
NANAMI KENTO:
Jujutsu Kaisen Star Nanami Kento Facing Trouble in Paradise: Leads to Divorce
to say he was irritated when he saw the headlines from the tabloids was an understatement, he is beyond livid. but the comments just made everything worse.
user_1: wow aren't they married for years already? maybe his wife can't conceive any babies? LOL
user_2: must be, or maybe nanami's just realized his wife is just using him for his actor money
user_3: the wife doesn't know to make a sandwich i fear
user_4: maybe he got tired of his wife's ugly face, no wonder he hides it from the internet hahaha
kento doesn't give a fuck if people were dragging his name left and right but god forbid it involves you, his loving wife who has been nothing but utterly supportive of his career. for someone who stuck by his side for years, it angers him that people immediately assume that you were the problem. he knows the news isn't true, he literally just cuddled with you last night, so to say that you were getting a divorce almost makes him laugh if it weren't how stupid this situation is.
when his manager informed him about the situation, he immediately cancelled every schedule that he has for today, he will call the lawyers to settle this later but for now, his main focus is you.
you are someone who is used to the privacy of your own space which is why you opted to keep your face off his socials and remain anonymous to the eyes of his fans. kento hates it that your peace is getting disturbed due to his stardom, so he is willing to drop everything just to go home to you and comfort you. no one knows who you really are but the way it made people talk like they do, makes him angry. no way his wife is going to be disrespected like this.
the moment kento opens the door the your shared home, he's panting, sweat evident in his forehead and worry present in his eyes as he looks at you across the living room, sitting on the couch with your phone in your hands.
"shit," he thought, he knows you already saw the news, and worse the comments. he can tell just by your body language. your eyes sunken in sadness and your lips form a frown. he doesn't see it but he knows your heart is breaking too.
"honey," kento breathes out as he walks towards you. he knows you heard him, but you stay in your position, disbelief flooding your senses. suddenly, you came back to reality when you feel kento's warm embrace, his large and quick hands getting rid of your phone before placing it on your head and immediately feeling his chest against your head.
his breathing his ragged, unstable deep breaths as he tells you, "it's gonna be okay," and a thousand apologies to go with it. you nod instead, finding yourself difficult to talk. you opt to rub onto his arm, a silent reply to his comforting and kento seems to understand your gesture. he then kisses the crown of your head as he pulls you tighter in his embrace.
"am i holding you back, kento?" you asked, your voice quite muffled as you speak through his button down blouse.
"oh god, darling you will never hold me back, if anything, you keep me moving. don't listen to them, alright? i'm happy and contented to where we are right now, don't worry about it." he lets go of the embrace and cups your face with both of his hands. he looks at you with loving eyes as he brushes your lower lip with his thumb. you close your eyes as he leaned closer, then you finally felt his lips against yours. he gives a peck, another, and then a third one before he crashes his lips onto you for the last time as he takes his time to explore your mouth.
kento knows a lot of ways to apologize, and this is one of them. he is gentle, but his love is loud as he allows his tongue clash against yours, the wet squelch filling up the room as he allows himself to be drunk with your lips.
when kento lets go, his breathing is heavy but satisfied. "i'll take care of everything from then on, okay?" he says as he caresses your face and a smile creeps to his face when you lean towards his touch with a nod. "will you be releasing a statement?" you ask.
"yeah, i'll contact our lawyer about it and then we'll see what we can do." his answer earned a curt nod from you. kento noticed pursed your lips, obviously thinking about something.
"are you still bothered by the comments?"
"no, i mean, i'm a bit upset about how people were talking about me online but i'm just curious as to where all this came from."
"hmm, yeah, we'll take care of that too, for now, just rest your pretty mind and always remember that i will never leave you. that okay?" his gentle voice makes your heart feel full, and that's you know that your husband will always be at your beck and call. "yeah." you answered as you give his lips a quick peck, "i love you," you added.
"i love you too."
not a even a day later, the JJK LABEL had released a statement and an article regarding the fake news that had surfaced.
Nanami Kento Slams Fake Divorce Article: "Don't project your problems in your love life through me and my wife."
"the article itself and the comments are horrible and people are stupid enough to believe something that came from a tabloid known to release fake news. maybe this just tells about how gullible and stupid people are for believing groundless rumors and not my relationship." the artist stated.
"to everyone involved in the release of this article, we will see you on court and i hope you have any evidence about your claim. to the people who threw disgusting comments about my wife, please worry how alone you are instead of snooping around our relationship." he adds.
that day, kento's fanbase rejoice as the tabloids finally got their karma when it was reported that their company was finally shut down.
FUSHIGURO TOJI:
it was a normal day in the fushiguro household until megumi bursts in through the door with a loud and resounding—
"dad, what the fuck?"
"megumi, language, please!" you warned him.
your word goes through megumi's ears and went to his dad who is currently lounging in the living room reading his script. he paid his son's words no mind and gave him a raised eyebrow, urging him to continue.
"your name is all over tabloids because of a forum post. look," megumi says as he faces his phone screen to toji's face. to say that he's horrified to what he just saw is an understatement. so, with a worry mind, you go behind toji's lounging chair and read what's on the screen.
Acting Veteran 'T' Caught in An Affair!
At the night of Tuesday, Actor 'T' is caught leaving a hotel with a seemingly younger woman clinging on his arms. The two are being lovey-dovey in their Shibuya rendezvous. Actor 'T' is currently married with a child which makes everything even more scandalous. What would actor 'T'’s wife and child think about this? Seems like the man really took a liking towards sneaking away with younger women.
Actor 'T'’s identity will be released by [MM/DD/YY] so stay tuned! For now, let us know your thoughts below.
user_1: actor veteran and the code is T? must be toji then?
user_2: this is definitely toji lmfao he looks like someone who would fool a younger woman
user_3: his wife must be so rusty now so he's running to the younglings LOL
user_4: respect for having the balls to cheat on his wife after this long, ik his ass is itching
user_5: @user_4 LMFAO should've done it sooner! bet he doesn't want to pay child support so he's staying 😂
user_6: NOOOO the GOAT got caught damn we were rooting for u 👑
"what the fuck?" both you and toji's voice were erupting in the whole room. out of shock? anger? rage? megumi is not sure but there is one thing he's sure of, both of you are being scary right now and the red in both of you and husband's eyes are almost showing due to the high range of emotions you were both feeling right now.
despite knowing that toji is utterly in love with you and he was actually with you that day, it scares him that his father is facing this kind of scandal. people are horrible out there trying to ruin his father's career that he worked hard on and this is the proof.
toji might be used to having false rumors spread about him all over the years he is in the acting industry, but what he can't take is people talking shit about his wife and thinking less about her. the comments that he just read just woke up the rage inside of him.
"mom?" megumi had called you since it's been minutes when you had gone quiet. the sight before him broke his heart.
your eyes are trying not to let your tears fall, but the comments are too hurtful to ignore, too cruel to set aside. even though you know that it's covered with a codename (barely), you exactly know it's your husband that they are talking about. you're hurt about the comments but you're most scared of your husband's career coming to a screeching halt.
you suddenly feel your husband hug you so tight and you let it all out. his shirt might get damped but toji doesn't care, comforting his wife comes first. he then tells megumi, "call our lawyer, tell him what we just saw, they'll know what to do," megumi frantically nods and gets out of the house to do what toji had said.
"come on, ma, let's go and get some rest." toji had urged you to go with him.
"pa, this is so ridiculous, i know you know how to deal with these but this is just too much, they're targeting our family now." the sadness in your voice and the tears that flow through face break toji's heart. you don't deserve this. these assholes needed to be taught a lesson, and he knows he won't be nice about it. "i'll take care of this, 'kay? i love you and megs so much, angel."
toji's voice somehow calmed your senses and you let yourself cry in his arms until you're left with no tears. "i'm sorry, i'm too old to cry like this." you said as you try to wipe the remnants of your tears from your face.
"no one's too old to cry, darling," toji coos, glad that you're finally able to calm down, and caresses the back of your head. then, a sly smirk forms on his lips, "you know what else we're not too old for?"
genuinely curious, you look up to him, "what?" you asked.
toji leaned down and whispered, "another child, think we can give megumi a sibling?" and gave you a mischievous look.
"toji!" you exclaimed as you smack his chest, flustered of his words.
"gross, get a room, and is now really the time for this?" you suddenly let go of yourself from toji's grasp the moment you heard megumi back in the living room. toji chuckled, "i got it all covered, both of you rest up and i will deal with all of this." toji walked towards where megumi is standing and gives his head a gentle pat, "no one's gonna ruin us, alright?"
the conviction in toji's voice made it clear to both of you and megumi that he already has a plan in mind, and you trust him enough to believe him. he has never let the both of you down, after all.
the next day, news break out the the person who posted the rumor on the online forum is caught with other criminal charges aside from the defamation he just attempted to do. the horrible comments also seem to magically disappear.
Fushiguro Toji Busts Down Anonymous User, Other Criminal Charges Involved
"I hope this serves as a lesson to everyone else. I'm not backing down until everyone gets what they deserve for ruining the names of the people I care about. I will not let go until every single horrible person who rises their tongue against my family is punished." Toji stated.
"Be careful what you read and comment online, please don't forget that the people you talk about are not just subjects, but real human beings." The veteran actor added.
the fake news spreader should have really known not to deal with a veteran who is powerful enough to protect the people he cherishes.
edit: i just noticed that i wasn't able to add the ending to toji's part 😭 my apologies, i fixed it now!
he hates to be interrupted while playing, but you are always an exception; when you arrive in the room he always looks quickly at you and takes a headset out of his ear, attentive to anything you are going to say. if you are sad or discouraged. he lets you sit on his lap and he listens intently to everything you have to say. but if you want, he’ll even turn off the computer/video game because he really cares about you - but he’s a little upset that you made him left the game when he was about to win, but he put this aside and focus on you; because what matters most is you, and always you.
˒ ⌕ DANIEL RICCIARDO:
shows you off in every way possible - honestly, most of the time he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. he’s always looks in love with you like ‘wow, you’re so perfect for me’. he also gets his eyes in his heart looking at you but still doesn’t understand how people guessed you were dating… but he honestly doesn’t complain, it just makes him show you even more to others because he wants to show everyone that he has the world in his hands.
˒ ⌕ CARLOS SAINZ:
he would give you anything you want; are you looking for a certain food or drink? he’s already getting it for you without question. it’s movie night and you want to watch a movie that no one else wants to watch? one way or another he’s going to make sure you’re watching that movie. he just wants to see you happy - and also because he likes to pamper you. the second you arrive, his friends are rolling their eyes because they know how much he’s wrapped around your finger, just a fool in love.
˒ ⌕ CHARLES LECLERC:
he gives you all his love and affection; it’s like he freely gives his heart to you, when it comes to you, he’d give you the entire galaxy if he could. he would let you do anything; playing with his hair, stealing his clothes, eating his last piece of pizza. he is also more affectionate physically like; he gives you long and warm hugs, soft and long kisses until you lose your breath, plays with your hair while he look through his phone, pulls you into his lap… he loves you with all his heart, and only you.
˒ ⌕ LEWIS HAMILTON:
he brings small gifts constantly. he can’t stop thinking about you and in everything he sees he sees you; whether it’s a coffee at that coffee shop at the end of the street that he knows you like, or that flower he saw in a tree on his way home. every little gift has meaning and a little bit of his heart. he just walks into the room with the sweetest smile to say ‘i have something for you, love’
˒ ⌕ OSCAR PIASTRI
you are the only person who sees his true side; the fun, spontaneous and loving side of him. you’re one of the few people who’s ever heard his spontaneous laugh or his bad jokes. or made him slow dance in the kitchen with you. you are the only person he allows himself to be, you are always the one for him.
˒ ⌕ MAX VERSTAPPEN:
he wants your presence all the time; it’s not that he’s suffocating you, it’s just that he wants to be surrounded by you all the time. like he could literally spend 48 hours locked in a room with you and still feel like he needs more time - like no you can’t leave, we’re not done yet. no matter how much time you spend with him, it will never be enough for him and he will never get tired of your delightful presence; he truly cherishes you and wants nothing more than to give you all of the love he can for as long as possible. your existence alone to him is so mesmerizing, he really doesn’t understand how you’re his or what he did to deserve you.
౨ৎ — about. “sukuna knows those heels, he’s pulled them off of you a million times before during a haze of lustful kisses and sly touches. he has no idea why the sight of them turns him on so much.” as rough and rugged as he may seem, ryomen sukuna lives to see his girl happy. he loves to see her smile. he loves to know she feels as good as she looks…but when you end up looking a little too good in a certain pair of heels, he can’t be blamed for making you late for a dreaded dinner... ( 6.2K )
౨ৎ — warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! nsfw, smut, pwp — video banner. modern!au, rich girl!au, forbidden romance, reader has sisters, degradation, praise, pain play, fingering (f!receiving), exhibitionism, slight!daddy kink, hold the moan, unprotected sex, oral sex (f!receiving), masturbation (m!receiving), cum play, creampies, modern bf!sukuna, rich girl fem!reader.
౨ৎ — things to note. haii everyone ! it’s been a while since i posted a longer fic so im excited. this was supposed to be a thirst lol. i’m just testing the waters with my version of modern bf!sukuna ! many thanks to @yennified for the ask that inspired it all. i’d like to thank everyone for their patience ‘n i hope you enjoy mwah mwah <3 - m.list ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪࣪𖤐₊ ⊹
“we’re going to be late, hot stuff.”
“no we’re not, ryo. give me five minutes! i just need to —“
if there’s one thing ryomen ‘sukuna’ itadori had learned from dating you, is that time management was never and never will be your strong suit.
if the phrase fashionably late could be embodied as a person, sukuna believes that it would definitely take the shape of you. you and your beautiful brown eyes that plead with him to give you a moment not even five minutes before you leave the house for dinner reservations. you and your sinful curves only accentuated the silk slip dresses you spend so long steaming before sukuna takes you out for the night. you and your perfect lips that have to be painted with the right gloss or lipstick to match your nails, purse and heels.
all of you, and your beauty, make up the meat and bones of the phrase ‘fashionably late.’
just like right now, where you sit reapplying your hot chocolate lip gloss, perched on the edge of the luxurious king sized bed you’d demanded be in your hotel room. a room booked by your father for a family-oriented get-away. sukuna hadn’t wanted to come, as a man from humble beginnings, using your daddy’s money wasn’t something that he favoured — but the man liked to see his girl happy. sukuna lives to make you happy, even if he won’t admit it.
“do ya really need five minutes to fix your lip gloss?” the pink haired man chides, sweeping a hand through his rosette locks in the mirror as he re-enters your bedroom. “i’ve seen you do it in less, gorgeous,” blood red eyes are quick to place you in the centre of the room — they never stray from you for too long, sukuna will always find you in a room no matter how busy or bare it is. your presence fills him with love and brings him comfort, even if he refuses to accept that as his truth.
there’s a coldness to the look you give him over your compact mirror while you rub the swell of your lips together, spreading the pigment across them easily. it’s a warning not to rush you, a warning to your boyfriend who knows better. “i said, i need my five minutes.”
ryomen drops the topic with a shrug, fixing his silky tie at the collar of his dress shirt — the one you’d so carefully picked because it matches the deep tone of his eyes and the colour of your slip dress. a mark of possession on your part. once he’s done, he takes to packing your designer clutch with all of your essentials from the dresser — blotting powder, your purse, any silver jewellery you’ll want to put on in the car. he slips on a couple of expensive rings to match with you too.
sukuna is more prepared for this dinner with your insufferable relatives than you are. he knows that tonight will be about your little sister and the rich lord she’s bagged as her boyfriend along with how soon they’ll be getting married. or it’ll focus on your older sister and her marriage that she’s trying so hard to keep together, despite it clearly falling apart. both of your siblings seem to think that they’re above you and your brooding, misunderstood boyfriend.
but you don’t believe that.
and you like to rub your love for one another in their bitter faces.
“pretty girl,” sukuna purrs, his chest rumbling with affection once he takes note of your heels discarded to the side. their silver sparkles glint under the warm embrace of the lighting up above. sukuna knows those heels, he’s pulled them off of you a million times before during a haze of lustful kisses and sly touches. they’re expensive too — he has no idea why the sight of them turns him on so much. “if you don’t hurry up, we won’t be able to brag to your bitchy sisters about how in love we are.”
by no means is sukuna a man of weak resolve. his will is as strong as his exterior — coated in the scars of his rough past like the thick black tattoos that ink his arms. he remains strong in every scenario except for ones that concern you, one look from you and you’ve got that mountain of a man crumbling like an avalanche and falling to his knees. you cast your boyfriend an amused gaze, smacking your lips as you watch him sink to his knees before your very eyes.
once again, your man takes the hint — thick fingers reaching for your glittery red bottom heels on the floor before he brings them up to the soles of your feet without a word. “you know how much i love the sound of that, ryo,” comes your dark hum, the colour of your eyes dimming with a desire ryomen sukuna knows all too well. “but i don’t see an issue with looking good while i do it.”
“you’re right,” sukuna quips in a husky tone, taking one foot and slipping one of your expensive shoes onto it. “who cares if we’re late to meet your sisters. as long as you feel as good as you look — i couldn’t give a fuck.” his thick fingers that know the twitches and ticks of your body oh-so-well reach for the straps of your heels and slowly begin weaving them around your ankle, upwards.
his blood red eyes remain hooked on your exposed thighs and supple skin, littered with a beautiful array of marks and scars from over your years of existence. some from before you even knew of ryomen, others from during your time together. “do you think i look good, baby?” you ask him innocently, leaning back on the bed with the palms of your hands lost in the whipped peaks of expensive cotton sheets — most exclusively found in this five star hotel.
sukuna grins in that slow and sexy way which makes your stomach lurch with lust, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on edge. “fuckin’ gorgeous, they’ll be shakin with rage.” he says, praise melting on the tip of his tongue. his words, in a symphony syllables, are accompanied by an undercover tune of desire — sukuna is a hungry man with little patience and a big appetite. once he’s settled on something, he’s damn sure to get it.
tonight; his prey is you.
the hulking man with the contrastingly soft pink hair bends at the neck to press a chaste kiss to your knee cap, smoothing the rough surface of his palms and workman’s hands over your doughy thighs — massaging you, easing any knots and tension beneath the top layer of your warm skin. his lips, only slightly chapped, curl upwards with a knowing smile when you let out a pleased chirp. sukuna’s hands work wonders on your body — causing your mind to drift away from the family dinner that awaits you.
tonight; you could very well fall victim to the claws and fangs ryomen sukuna possesses.
kisses quickly become open mouthed and wet, hot and slippery over your flesh — and soon, sukuna adds teeth to the mix once he reaches your inner thighs, littering the area with deep shades of purple and midnight blue. he had no intentions of ravaging you like this, at least not so soon, but with a woman this irritable and fiery and troublesome on his arm how could he not? they say that you attract what you put out and the mirthy look in your eye, hidden between beautiful brown flecks of innocence, tells sukuna that you’re exactly what his guarded soul has been looking for all of his life.
his pulse quickens beneath the calcium cage of his chest — heart beat rising as you allow his curious lips and pink fluffy hair begin to disappear under the silky fabric of your figure-hugging dress. sukuna can practically taste you, the air underneath your skirt is dewy and warm and your flavour (that he knows oh so well) lingers within its particles.
god, he wants you so bad. he doesn’t even care how this may look.
a man like him on his knees, ready to worship you as if you spout riches and bleed liquid gold.
except you do, you’re worth more than sukuna could ever hope to be. the weight of your net-worth unfairly tips the scales and he doesn’t even care. all because he loves you.
“why’re we even goin’ to this stupid dinner in the first place?” your rough and ragged boyfriend ponders out loud, with his words slipping over the edge of his sneaky snake's tongue. said tongue, if ryomen inches forward enough, could drag over your budding clit — clearly outlined through the barely-there crotch of your lace panties. “spend the night with me, doll. don’t gotta go a place…” a thick finger pulls the string of fabric away from your sticky slit, toying with the material until your premature arousal glazes his fingertip.
but before the man can reward himself with the goods between your perfect thighs — the sharp point of your heel digs into ryomen’s firm right pec. your shoes are clean so they won’t leave a mark, but he feels like you’ve left one on his heart, even as the bottom of your shoe pushes him back and away from your warmth.
“oh ryo, you must be hungry for the wrong thing,” you laugh breathlessly with your head tipping backwards, the sound shooting straight down to the hardness beneath sukuna’s black slacks. you push at him further until he rests back on his haunches — expression crazed and like a starved animal. “you forgot the other shoe, love.”
it turns out, you’re just as skilled a huntress as sukuna is. a vixen who stalks her prey and makes them beg for all her mercy. “how careless of me…” the man drawls, finding himself drawn to you like a moth to a candle’s flame. he craves your attention, he basks in it when you give it to him in the way that you do now. there’s not a moment where you’re not looking at him, admiring the shape and form of your man as if he’s the rarest piece of art in the world or a treasure more expensive than any diamond.
within the depth of those enticing brown eyes lay the truest form of love — even when you’re seconds away from devouring each other, your love for ryomen outgrows any doubt planted in your heart by your bitter family.
“y’must be so disappointed in me…” he goes on, lifting your second ankle in one hand and adjusting your foot into the perfect position to slip your other heel on. “how can i make it up to ya, gorgeous?” sukuna’s voice is gravelly, laced with intonations of neediness as he laces you up and finishes the job with a hand clasped over your knee. “i’ll do anythin’, anythin’ you want.”
graciously, you remove your red bottom from his shoulder and part your knees like the Red Sea — giving the older itadori the perfect view of the small string of fabric nestled between your glistening folds. even with the way you play coy, you’re always ready for him — as if it’s coded into your DNA to yearn for his touch.
the upper row of your teeth sink into your shiny bottom lip as you look down at your man with unadulterated hunger. “anything, ryo?”
sukuna’s chest rumbles (like a storm) with pride, his watchful gaze noting how you twitch and writhe for more. he leans forward and lets his black painted nails sink into the surface of your thighs — dragging you towards his awaiting mouth. “anythin’ for you gorgeous.” he repeats, voice raspy. in one swift movement, your red-bottom heels are swung over wide shoulders with thick muscles, keeping you nice and spread for him.
from over your barely-there-panties, a finger glides through your glistening pussy lips and presses into your budding clit just to get a reaction out of you. a squeak that makes sukuna’s hips buck into the floor and a full body shiver that has your heels knocking behind the man’s head. arousal pearls on his fingertip through the material, which he leisurely rubs into the rest of your heated and throbbing sex, right down to your quivering hole.
two fingers with polished black nails slip past your underwear’s waistband and dip inside of you with practised ease, instantly curling to find that special spot that drives you up the wall. sukuna knows you well, he’s spent years getting to that point. he’s committed every little detail there is to know about you to memory — the your lashes flutter when you like how he touches you, the way your throat bobs just before you mewl out his name. he knows exactly what you like and how to make you feel good. that fact drives sukuna into a frenzy.
his fingers start to work you faster, a lewd suctioning sound echoing throughout the luxurious room the deeper they plunge into you. sukuna’s thumb deliciously rolls over your swollen clit to add to your mounting pleasure, writing the signature of his claim on one of the most sacred parts of your body — where no other person can have you.
“ryomen!” you squeal in surprise, your shaky thighs threatening to close around your boyfriend’s skilled hands. your hole clenches around his thick digits feverishly while drooling directly into the seat of his rough palm.
a resounding chuckle echoes between your legs, vibrating against your syrupy sex as his pink head of hair disappears beneath the hem of your silken skirt. “that good, huh?” comes his lazy reply to your call of his name, using his fingers to fuck your arousal back into you. “what’s the matter, pretty girl?”
condescension twists with your boyfriend’s baritone voice, sending sparks of delight through your body like a thunder strike from zeus himself. when it comes to sex and pleasing you — sukuna is a god amongst mankind. the best you’ve ever had:
“don’t tease,” you growl out impatiently through gritted teeth, though your words melt into a whiny moan when sukuna easily bares down on your g-spot because he knows your squishy insides like the backs of his very hands. he finds it adorable when your face scrunches at the sensation of his cold, silver ring brushing up against your molten, sticky cunt and hums in content when you squirt a little bit for him in response. “we…we h-have plans for tonight!”
“‘m sorry princess, didn’t know we were in a rush.” ryomen says smugly, leaning into the sinful scent of your sex as if he’s been bewitched. not even the sound of your silver gladiator heels knocking against one another behind his head can pull the man out of this reverie. despite your warning, your boyfriend figures that there’s still time to have his way with you, you don’t really care about being on time to meet your family and you hardly have the brain capacity to think about them right now.
not when you fall under the vicious waves of ecstasy and give in to your depraved lover. ryomen quickly has you drowning in pleasure as he finally takes the plunge and replaces his thumb on your clit with his lips wrapped around it. he sucks on the little nub from over your panties, tongue glazing the fabricated barrier with his saliva as he commits the taste of you to memory once again.
your natural musk has sukuna drunk and high within seconds. you’ve got him returning to old habits and addictions he doesn’t have the strength to fight off. you’re bad for him and he knows it, but he can’t help but to make out with your clothed mound like it’s his life’s mission, mapping out the shape of your cunt through the stringy, soiled material. you ought to be embarrassed with the way you throb against sukuna’s eager lips as he buries his face further into your pussy. he inhales sharply, nastily, with his nose nudging against the sensitive treasure in circles — coaxing you open like a flower in the spring bloom.
ecstasy decides to bloom within you too, evergreen roots taking residence deep within your chest and curling around your beating heart. your pulse quickens in anticipation, an intoxicating veil of covetous yearning shrouding your brain in darkness as the tip of sukuna’s tongue now begins to circle your tight little entrance. even with the fabric in the way, you greedily attempt to clench down on his predatory pink appendage and keep him locked inside your cunt — squirting small streams of your juices in the process.
if your siblings could see you right now, how dirtily your man begins to ravage you just minutes before your family dinner while dripping on his tongue and the expensive bed daddy paid for, they’d be horrified. the sentiment strikes a pang of arousal in you, spreading to your boyfriend like a wildfire.
and as ryomen hooks a finger around the soiled gusset of your panties to pull them down, you hardly find it within yourself to care about what your snotty sisters might think — not when you’re about to receive the best head and best orgasm of your life.
“how d’ya wan’it?” instead of making a move to eat you out properly, ryomen takes two fingers and spreads your folds and exposes them to the blazing heat of his breath. exhaling through his nose next, he watches with blood red eyes as you twitch beneath his hold, dribbling liquid gold more than his mouth drools. “you’re so fuckin’ wet…all this from puttin’ on those pretty shoes?” your thigh shifts in response, heels clicking and back arches from luxury sheets crinkling under your back.
huffing impatiently, you send a threatening look down at your boyfriend despite how vulnerable you are to his torture teeth that could tear you apart in an instant. “ryo…your mouth,” you whinge, voice slipping into an almost babyish tone. despite your hard stare, your eyes are wet and wide like a prey animal watching its life go by right before it’s hunted or a deer in headlights, for that matter. “you promised you wouldn’t t-tease!”
“yeah, yeah, i know. ‘m sorry,” sukuna hums confidently, except he’s not really apologetic in the slightest — hardly doing his best to tame the uncomfortable yearning building up at your core. you’re a mess for him and he loves it, he’s entertained by the thought of you needing him so bad that it might kill you. he takes pride in knowing it’s not just him who feels this way. “thank you for tellin’ me, by the way. gonna use my mouth to fuck this pretty pussy til’ she’s creamin’ all for me,” he growls to you in a sultry tone, his aphrodisiac-like words a breath’s width away from your sloppy mound — its timbre sound sending tremors of electricity through your swollen, unattended clit that convulses from the lack of attention.
nothing inflates ryomen sukuna’s ego more than the feeling of your sex throbbing against his face — juices glossing the plump swell of his lips as he wraps them around your puffy pleasure nub. his chest bristles as you open up for him like a flower in spring, the scent of your arousal acting like a perfume to him — the bee with the stinger of pleasure. he works his savage mouth along the length of your slit, as though he lacks the manners of a decently raised man, tongue prodding at your entrance just to be mean. after a while, sukuna stops sucking and making out with your dirty, creamy cunt to nip at your titillating folds, taking one between rows of sharpened pearly whites and gently pulling it away from you.
at the abrupt feeling — you cry out hoarsely in a mix of bliss and surprise, taking a peek at the pink haired man between your spiked thighs with swimming vision. sukuna’s face is soaked, his angled jaw and cheeks and chin glazed in a layer of your slick as if he’s bitten into the ripest piece of fruit in adam and eve’s garden. the trail runs armously down and over his adam’s apple, coaxing your lover into eating you out properly this time.
finally, finally putting his filthy mouth to good use.
“fuck, i love the way y’drool for me down here. got so much to give, don’cha gorgeous?” sukuna mewls into you whilst kitten licking your slit, drinking you in as though you’re a glass of water in an oasis of lust and sex. he chuckles happily at your dreamy sigh and circling hips that grind down on his face, tapping three fingers against your sticky pleasure bud lovingly. annoyingly ( but not without appreciation from you), sukuna takes it a step further by sloppily kissing you there.
even with the time crunch, your pleasure takes priority. eating you out is like a reward for your man, it’s as though he was out on this earth by the gods purely to make you see stars. you feel lucky that he chose you out of all he could where he feels blessed to be the man you let touch you like this.
“mmph, ryo… always g’na be wet f’you. for my man. only you get me this fucked up,” you drawl with a silky voice, making a show of tweaking your own nipples from over your dress for your boyfriend. with the slipperiness of a snake, your hands slide down from between the valley of your heaving breasts, over your clothed tummy ( that twists with knots of ecstasy ) and into the slicked pink locks that tickle your inner thighs. messing up his perfect look, you grip sukuna’s roots and tug on them forcefully — coaxing him further into the debauched realm concealed by the skirts of your dress.
“princess…” ryomen lets out a pathetic, muffled groan — increasing the pace of the tip of his tongue as it lewdly flicks at your sex. “have you always had such a dirty mouth? what would yer daddy think?”
your head tips back at the new, gratifying sensation — ecstasy mounting in your lower tummy like bricks of a steady wall. “for as long as i’ve been yours,” comes your crazed and melodious laughter, only interrupted by pockets of squelching noises emitted from your squelching cunt. “oh baby…i don’t give a fuck about what my ‘daddy’ thinks. only you. let him stay mad — f-fuck! kuna!”
fuelled by the idea of pissing off your stuck up family, tattooed hands move to grip where your legs bend at the knee — pushing them back until your skirt rides up over your fleshy ass and your knees hit your shoulders and the soles of your shoes are able to lay flat against sukuna’s rippling back muscles. he hisses at the slight sting he feels from the pointed heel digging into his skin through his shirt, but it only fucks him up more. your pleasure is his pain, ryomen doesn’t give a fuck about anything else except for how good his girl feels.
somewhere amongst the sweat soaked sheets your phone lets out a shrill cry — signifying a call from someone in your spoiled family. without sukuna’s command, you scramble through the sea of stiff fabric peaks and reach for the device, hitting the answer button before checking the contact.
“h-hello?” you say in a poor attempt to speak clearly, stifling a deep moan. “speak of the devil and the devil shall appear…” comes your shallow whisper as you address your boyfriend. your chest grows sticky with perspiration beneath the bust of your dress — breathing uneven and heavy because of the way ryomen’s tongue wriggles past your tight little hole, squirming about against your lush walls to hit that special spot that has you screaming and seeing stars while on the phone to one of your relatives.
“excuse me, young lady?” it’s your father, much to sukuna’s dismay, his voice is irritatingly recognisable over the crackling of the line. of course he would find some way to unknowingly interrupt yourself and your loving, doting, disapproved boyfriend. “you were supposed to meet your sisters and i for dinner nearly forty minutes ago. where are you?”
sukuna’s agitation shows with each wet kiss he aggressively places between your swollen folds, nasty and miscalculated whilst designed to leave you a shaky mess.“o-oh! hi daddy,” you emphasise the word, voice rising an octave until its light an airy. your swimming, doe eyes lock with crimson ones that bore into the depths of your soul from below — taunting and testing the pink haired man’s patience. “‘m getting ready. don’t you want me to look pretty?”
the silky lilt to the tail end of your words causes sukuna to growl against your pulsating, temperate mound while his fingers yank you down onto his handsome face by your meaty thighs. eagerly, your hips canter down to match the stride of his tongue stroking your pretty pussy as though you’re riding his aching cock to your heart’s content. his tongue fills you up almost as good, warmly slipping and sliding over pleasure spots only he can reach.
he kitten licks and sucks and bites at your raw sex like a wild animal, loudly moaning into you with every roll of your cunt over his face. you taste like heaven, the flavour almost angelic on his tongue. sukuna feels like a sinner with a greedy craving for more and if you cared just a little bit, you might have been concerned about your father catching the lascivious sounds from between your thighs over the phone.
“i’m past the point of caring about how you present yourself at dinner,” your father says your name stern and low — talking to you as if you’re a child and not the woman you’d grown into. “your sisters are ravenous, they flew all the way into the country for this. don’t you think that they deserve an ounce of your time?”
losing yourself to the danger of it all, you chuck your phone to the side after putting it on loud speaker. your lover targets your prominent, adorable clit again, the tip of his tongue rolling it in large circles until you’re close to tearing the sheets from the bed. you try your best to contain the scream building up in your throat, but sukuna has never made it easy for you to keep quiet.
“mph…fuck!”
“young lady! watch your mouth!” your father scolds you, still blissfully unaware of the fact that you’re getting tongue fucked by the man he hates all the way up to cloud nine. “i bet that good for nothing scoundrel has put you up to this. i keep telling you, no daughter of mine should be with a man like that. where is he? he’s the one making you late.”
“actually, dad, sukuna’s been a good boy. sitting all handsome in those suits you like. i’m the one making…oohhh…m-making us late!” cruel carmine eyes flutter at your generous praise, lovesick as a sunburn like blush spreads over the bridge of sukuna’s nose from how desperate he is for you. if you tried your hardest to listen in over the wet sounds of your cunt being sucked on for dear life, along with the shaky delectable laments your lover lets out, you might be able to hear the sound of a zipper going down or the slickness of sukuna’s hand around his meaty shaft as he jerks himself off. no longer able to fight off his desire for you.
your stomach flips at the sight and the pleasure mounts with your impending high, dainty fingers beginning to tug and twist at sukuna’s blushing pink hair. his pain is your pleasure.
“you’ve lost your mind, i didn’t raise you to be like this.”
“you hardly…hardly raised me at all,” the words feel tacky in your mouth, as if it’s been stuffed with cotton that sucks up your saliva. it doesn’t help that your voice begins to waver too, reaching whistle tone notes.
ryomen sukuna doesn’t know what’s hotter, the fact that you’re so easily able to sass your rich, douchey father or the fact that you’re letting him give you head while on the phone. “shit,” he curses as low as possible, using one had to smooth the pad of his thumb over the slit in his cockhead — smearing the precum that beads there over the sensitive flesh. his kiss swollen lips part from your sweet sex for only a moment to taunt you. he remains connected to you by a single rope of clear elixir that leaks from your precious little hole. “god, gorgeous. you’re fuckin’ drenched…all from talkin’ back to daddy, huh?”
a lewd and sacchariferous mewl rumbles from deep in your chest as it rapidly rises and falls. it’s all too much for you to keep up with, you’re way too dizzy and it’s only made worse when sukuna bobs his head between your quivering legs so that his fat tongue drags through the entirety of your ravaged pussy lips.
“holyfuckingshit!” you shoot the man a glare once you remember where you are and who you’re on the phone to.
ryomen offers up a cocky smirk as his excuse before delving beneath your silken skirts once more, though it does nothing to mask how turned on he is — squeezing the base of his drippy shaft to stop himself from cumming too soon to the sight of you.
you try not to forget the presence of your father again, it would be hard to, since he’s insistent on betraying you down the phone. “speak back to me again and i’m cutting you off. starting with cancelling the card you and your mangy boyfriend live off of.”
“do it, i dare you.” you somehow manage to snap back, jolting at the sensation of sukuna’s razor sharp teeth grazing your clit. he hisses deliciously against your sex as your heels cut pretty crescent moons into his back. “i-i wonder what mom would have to say about it if you…if you did!”
silence echoes down the line, broken by small pockets of your boyfriend slurping on your folds like a man starved. slurps that you’re just so blessed to be able to hear. you should feel ashamed instead of hungry, doing nothing to tame the greedy beast inside you that craves more and more of sukuna’s attention on you. you must have lost your mind, for letting him eat you out so brazenly while you converse with your father on the phone. it’s so depraved, so dirty and yet you wouldn’t give this… give sukuna up for the world.
you love him more than anything. love how he treats you like you’re the strongest person he knows whilst handling you as though you’re made of glass. you love how he gets off to you, dribbling thick white from the tip of his cock because you make him a mess enough to need to jerk off. you love how he pleasures you, his baritone laments and simpers muffled against your cunt sending fireworks up your spine and setting them off at your tailbone where your mounting pleasure lies.
you love ryomen ‘sukuna’ itadori, and no amount of scolding from your father will ever change that.
“just…just be here within the hour. please.” your father requests quietly.
“see you soon, daddy,” you hang up the phone faster than a lightning strike, all of your composure flying out of the window with the last dial tone. “ryo, fuck! i’m close… gonna cum. please, hurry!”
“god you’re such a fuckin’ menace, hah, pretty girl?” your pink haired lover quips airily, his jaw tight from flicking his tongue against your sex in sync with his fist flicking around his throbbing dick, slinging precum about the place. he’s amused and love sick all at once, a feeling that was once foreign to ryomen before he met you. “gotcha so turned on by talking back to your dad, yeah? all while i ate this pretty fuckin’ pussy out… so nasty,” only sukuna could make you feel this loved while degrading you, the only man who’s ever been able to do so. none of them could come close to knowing your body like he does, the way you twitch when you’re close and start to pout like a spoilt brat when you’re frustrated from waiting for your orgasm.
sukuna takes the edge off by lifting a tattooed arm and slapping his hand down on the entirety of your cut — letting out a haughty moan at the sight of glistening droplets of arousal flying about the place while your heels drag down his back with delightful pain. you cry out, but your boyfriend’s mouth is back on you in seconds — soothing your poor pussy. “‘m so lucky to have you though, my nasty fuckin’ princess,” he mewls into you, using his tongue to bully your g-spot over and over and over while he fists his precum glazed cock into oblivion. “gonna make you cum, gorgeous girl. let you make a mess in my mouth, you want that?”
“m-more than anything, ryo!” you wail, fighting back tears as you spew a fresh wave of your sweet nectar from your pathetic hole. you do have a dinner to get to after all, you should only be crying from one place. your cunt. the sound of said squelching cunt and your dulcet whines make sukuna’s balls twitch with a load he would only dedicate to you. “i love you, love you s’much…love you,”
the delirium starts to catch up with you, becoming too much to bare as you babble nonsense into the sex tainted air. you can’t hold back, some of your release already beginning to stream out of you. “‘m gonna cum, ryo…cum with me, please!” you squeal in warning, mere seconds before your body succumbs to sukuna’s eager tongue and the wrath of your orgasm.
“love you too, s’much,” your glittery heels knock behind his sweaty mass of pink hair, cutting into his back as he walks you through it all. “f-fuck baby, that’s it,” he goads as you gush into his mouth like a tidal wave. you have so much to give, release trickling into his mouth, painting his cheeks and sliding down his adam’s apple in a viscous current. sukuna is swept away by the arousal in the air, drinking you in as he pumps his cock harshly and in tune with the way you weakly hump at his face through the aftershocks.
pulling his sticky mouth away from your equally sticky sex, sukuna replaces his tongue with three of his fingers to your clit — coaxing you through the rest of your high as he draws random shapes on the puffy nub. “keep that orgasm goin’ for me, pretty princess, give it to me…give it t’me while i fill you up,” he rambles brainlessly, abruptly standing up as he fists his cock pulled out from the zipper of his dress pants — barely fighting back his own orgasm. “spread those fuckin’ legs, wanna cum inside.”
“ryo!”
“ahh, fuckin’…fuuuck!” in one swift move, your boyfriend slips his sensitive and bulbous cockhead past your quivering, orgasming entrance — shallowly thrusting into your tight heat as you spasm around him, before he’s thrown off the edge into his own high. “c-cummin’…” hot sticky ropes of white seed flood your womb, which sukuna keeps plugged into you as he folds you over — chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat. your heels clink at the dip in his waist behind his back. you’re still cumming as languid thrusts smear your boyfriend’s cum against your rippling walls, but you’re content, breathing beginning to even out as you both come down from cloud nine.
still releasing in small spurts, ryomen slowly pulls out of you with soft kisses pressed to the side of your face. “sorry, didn’t wanna fuck up my pants before dinner,” he chuckles over the warm static spreading over your happy little brain.
you offer him your own dopey laughter, remaining sprawled out underneath your hunk of a man. “so you decide to just jizz inside of me? you’re a class act ryo. what about my dress?”
“first of all, you don’t like it when shit goes to waste ‘n second off all, i made damn sure that it stuck. your dress is fine, brat.” a chaste kiss is pressed to your nose as sukuna helps you sit up, double checking for any mess he might have left between your shaky legs. “let me clean you up, don’t want your dad findin’ out what we were really up to all this time.”
“pretty sure he already knows,” you shrug, rolling your ankles as you lean down to fix a strap on your heel. “you’re a messy eater, ryo.”
but before you can fix your shoe back into place, ryomen sukuna is already on it — adjusting the strap to sit comfortably on your leg before he stands again and retreats to the bathroom for a warm cloth to clean you up with.
you watch with a smirk as he goes, admiring all of the little red marks on his shoulder blades you’ve left on him with your shoes. “then i guess i’ll have to use some fuckin’ table manners at dinner,” he remarks childishly. “but i can’t help how delicious you look in those heels, gorgeous.”
and it’s true, you’re the only meal sukuna could ever want — especially when you leave your claim on him with high heels like that.