#best white duvet cover | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

seattlesellie · 3 months ago

Text

ೀ spoiled. ( part one )

📞🕯️🎀 ₊˚⊹♡ “ baby , can you call me back ? i miss you … it’s so lonely in my mansion … “ 🧸🪽🍬

pairing: ellie williams x rich fem!reader

synopsis: the mansion you live in is getting too cold , the silence is way too silent , and not even reruns of sex & the city can help … long story short , you’re feeling lonely . wonder if you can think of someone in your contacts that can help and warm you up , a certain classmate perhaps ?

warnings: girly reader , kind of desperate loser ellie , bratty spoiled rich reader so don't read if that annoys you , allusion to smut , actual smut will be in the second chapter , this is dirty so mdni as usual !

an: i wrote this such a long time ago and it wasn't supposed to be two parts but well now it is !! i will start writing the second part if u guys want to so don't be shy in my inbox. not proofread unfortunately ♡

A perfectly manicured hand rests on the fluffy white and silky smooth duvet. the Egyptian cotton, to be exact, is nothing but lavish, a sanctuary of indulgence in the realm of your own private luxury. Then, you tap your nails atop it, and the fabric crinkles. You gently sigh, but it's more so a grumble, and reach over for the ‘Dunkin’ cup standing on your wooden bedside table. It perfectly matches every single one of the furniture in your extravaganza of a walk in closet, and the bed-frame as well. You take a slow, indulgent sip out of the icy cold drink, take an ice cube out with a straw, and gently suckle on it. You place the drink back on the table, shifting your gaze back over to the flat screen television.

Carrie forgave Mr. Big again, and now she’s seen frantically pacing around the streets of New York City in her shiny Manolo Blahniks. You arch your brows, humming in high pitched amusement. you have the exact same pair!

Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda always seem to bring you a sense of comfort. Usually, your bed brings you a sense of comfort as well, and so does an icy drink with specifically eight cubes of ice. Your room smells like French vanilla, a tinge of cinnamon, and the sweetest pie you’ve never learned how to bake. Most of the time, you’d bask in the scent and feel nice, and cosy, and your nose would scrunch and your nostrils would flare out, then you’d open your favorite food delivery app and order a nice ol’ package of nine chocolate chip cookies. Then, you’d pop open a bottle of champagne and indulge yourself in the sweets deliciousness.

But your appetite is less existent than snow in the middle of August.

You’re also freezing cold, fuzzy socks and all — goosebumps rising on your skin and feeling sharp like Japanese knives.

Your best friend of a white home cat, Toodle, elegantly extends his supple frame, his lithe form gracefully ascending to nestle within the cradle of your neck. His bell gently dingles, he yawns and mellifluously meows. Right now, it sounds more like an old mans groan.

“I know, Toots… m’bored too. And cold, Jesus…” you mutter towards Toodles, who, in his usual aloof manner, closes his eyes and surrenders to the soothing hum of his purring. You puff some air out of your mouth, brain wheels turning as to find out what’s the cause of this blue mood. The air conditioning is completely turned off, you’re sure of it, and the fireplace crackles with warmth. Your entire moisturized body is covered up by a ridiculously expensive thick blanket, and it’s not the short VS nightie that makes you feel freezing, you’re convinced of that. For some reason, the frosty sensation persists. You smack your lip-glossed lips before bumping your head against your mountain of pillows, emitting a low grunt of exasperation.

You don’t know the reason for your boredom, or for this bum mood, because albeit you’ve seen this episode about a gazillion times, it never fails to entertain the shit out of your brain.

Maybe it’s due to the fact that you’re entirely alone (except for Toddles, of course, can't forget him) in a 10,000 square feet mansion. or perhaps it’s because the only lit room inside the mansion is your own.

But then you roll your eyes, because your parents are always away (at St. Tropez this time), so feeling alone isn’t a new and strange concept.

Alas, being alone isn’t the same as being lonely.

Your face twists at the depressing thought, ew. You’re not lonely, just… bored, and unamused, and the icy drink isn’t sweet enough and Carrie’s getting on your last nerve, and the 1,000 dollar blanket is starting to itch the hell out of your hyper-sensitive skin.

Which is why you get up from the bed in a moment of eureka, landing your feet against the fuzzy carpet and slide them into your Ugg’s. “Uh huh!” you chirp, you finally got it.

You’re experiencing an old friend of a feeling called (drumroll…) — anxiety, over your unfinished chem project! It must have masked itself in the form of frigidness and discomfort and loneliness.

But the project isn’t even due till next week, and you rarely get stressed over college stuff unless they’re due the next day and you’re sitting, staring down at your laptop screen, trying to communicate with it through telepathy or something of that sort.

Somaybeit’snotanxiety and maybeyou’rejustloney.

You shake away that uneasy and irritating thought, and sit your pretty butt down on the rolling chair. You click your shiny glittery pen (that always sheds some glitter onto your hand) and open up the thick as brick textbook.

You read the first question out loud.

The correct formula for aluminum nitrate is…

Valentino’s Lòco Toile Iconographe shoulder bag in hot pink?

Nope.

You shake your head, you have got to focus. You place your chin atop your palm and click the pen once more.

Al(NO2)3? or maybe it’s Al(NO3)3…

or maybe you’re so far off you need to close the book shut and throw it out of the window. You’ve always sucked at chemistry.

Which is why you were assigned to be tutored by that auburn haired, green eyed, slightly sullen, tatted up girl who went by "Ellie" — or "El", but you didn't know her like that.

Ellie, is the one who stuttered out your name as she realized you weren’t paying attention to her tutoring, as you had your gaze fixated on the black ink etched on her forearm, a half-covered flannel and a canvas of delicate veins. A bug, adorned with intricate botanical details, unfurled its wings across her skin.

“S’uh… A moth, with ferns around it n’stuff. It’s kind of faded now though”

Her voice was raspy and husky, and she stuttered out your name. Usually, you’d hate it when people got nervous around you. It made you feel odd, ostracized, and you always insisted — you were so damn sweet, there’s nothing to be nervous about. You wore sweet perfume, sweet as goddamn cherries and cupcakes, and your voice was soft and you always smiled brightly, and so what if your purse cost more than a college tuition?

But her nerves didn’t annoy you. In fact, you found them charming, and you found her sweet. You found that all of her “Uhhh” ‘s, and her “Mhhm” ‘s, all of her stammering and her lack of ability to keep eye contact with you to be… infatuating.

Then there was that rich voice, and those eyes, that smile, those hands, those damn toned arms, those biceps and the haircut, the way two short strands of hair always framed her face perfectly and her scent — that you could tell was just a cheap cologne, but mixed with her unique fragrance, proved nothing short of intoxicating.

It was also the fact that she seemed to damn know everything — and that she was always ahead of you, and that her face always bore that coy little smirk when you got a question wrong (which you seemed to get more often than not), and that she would grab your Swarovski pen out of your hand and scribble down the answer for you, just to explain it in detail later.

The way she licked over her bottom lip and bit as wrote down.

With her long fingers and all.

When she spoke, her breath smelled of mint and the faintest tinge of weed, which made you think of how lovely it must be to be able to transform into a damn joint just so she could place you in her mouth and suck —

now you’re sticky, and god now you really are distracted, and not by a cute purse or the sound of rain pouring down on your window. Toodles stretches his tiny limbs and you hear his bell faintly dingle again. He climbs down from your princess bed and jumps up to sit at your lap. You caress down his white fur and he purrs.

You wonder if Ellie likes cats.

You know she likes pussy.

You have got to get a grip.

You massage your temples, attempting to focus on the written down questions again, but the words and the numbers seem to mix into a cacophony of odd symbols and letters, and you’re still so goddamn cold.

Albeit your eyelids droop down slowly, eyes spazzing out of focus, the assignment must be done today.

“Just, finish the damn work and go to sleep. Yup.” You mumble to yourself, a habit you picked up as a result of being alone for most of your childhood, and having to opt for the help of imaginary friends to keep you comfort. Alas, you’re older now and only have yourself to talk to.

You try and follow your command.

The problem is, you don’t know jack shit.

You wish Ellie was here, with her hair sticking to her forehead and your pen in her hand and her old chuck’s glued to her feet, as she sits down on the spare chair aside you with her jaw resting on her knees.

You wish you could hear her faint chuckle as you get another question wrong.

As a tutor, of course.

Not even as a friend, because she’s not.

Definitely not as a lover, obviously, because that would truly be so far fetched from reality — although… right now, you can’t help but think of the way her eyes fall down to your chest as a crimson blush creeps up her cheeks.

And you keep thinking about the time you purposely let your bra strap cascade down your shoulder, just because you wondered how she’d react — Which was with averting her gaze to the side and clearing her throat. Now you think of the time you wore an extra short mini skirt, not that different from the rest of them although a bit tinier, and how you kept rubbing your thighs together just to see whether she’d notice or not, which she did…

You groan and slap your palm against your forehead.

Then, you stare at another question and then at your phone. Toodles chimes in with a high-pitched meow.

��Oh my gosh Toots, so true! I should text her the questions, duh”

You’re not delusional at all, by the way.

So you send her your address.

In the meantime, you make sure your studying environment and your room are as tidy as possible. You grab your sparkly pink pen and place it near the textbook, and you grab a matte black pen for Ellie as well, a thoughtful gesture.

You also apply some strawberry scented moisturizer on your body, and spray your sickly sweet perfume on your pule points.

You slip your feet out of your slippers, and you wear your favorite heels. However, you keep your little nightie on. You’re supposed to feel comfortable, this is your house after all, and the heels — are just a courtesy, you are expecting company, and opening the front door with house slippers is entirely rude, and the silky robe… It’s long enough and proper. Ish.

You stare at your reflection down the mirror, and for some reason, you feel utterly nervous. You’re all dolled up for a person who isn’t a stranger, but who also isn’t a friend. When you coat your lips with some minty gloss, Toodles stretches his tail upwards and meows.

“Psh. Do not judge me, Toots. This is normal, I do this all the time”

Which again is a total and complete white lie, because if it was a regular friend coming over, you wouldn’t have even bothered to fix up your makeup, and you’d barely even get up from the comfort of your own bed.

As a matter of fact, not many people come by your house at all. You have your fair share of friends, but you’d much rather hang out by the mall or at one of their mansions, yours always feels just, utterly suffocating — as giant and spacey as it might be. And sure, you’ve had hook ups before, but you always went rigid when they tried to slip past your panties, and you were always… dry, as an autumn leaf.

Ellie makes you feel anything but dry.

Physically — you shake your head and try getting rid of the thought by giving yourself some good old whiplash.

You find yourself pacing around your room, until you manage to cascade downstairs as soon as you hear the bell ring. With each step you take, your heel taps the lavish ceramic pavement.

“Stay”, you gesture towards your fluffy feline companion, who responds with a squinting of his eyes. “Don’t freak out our company”

You look at Ellie’s face from the intercom’s shiny screen. You look at it so hard you nearly forget to press on the button that’s purpose is to let your tutor-guest in. A couple of strands of her auburn bangs stick to her forehead. Ellie scratches her eyes with the back of her hands and she straightens up her spine. As she waits for the gate to open, she puffs some air from her cheeks. She attempts to fix her eyebrows with the tips of her fingers, and seems to be murmuring something underneath her breath.

You’re not the best at lip reading, but your gut tells you she just whispered a “Hi”, and added your name, then — “Hey” adding your name once more.

It’s absolutely impossible for her to not be aware of how stupidly and irritatingly cute she is.

You press on the button and clear your throat. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t practice your greeting in front of a mirror as well. Your robe cascades down your shoulder, you fixate on it and contemplate pulling up the fabric.

Toodles meows once more.

Yup. You should keep it down.

It takes Ellie a good five minutes to walk the full distance from the front gate to your huge white door.

Then she knocks three times on the wood, and you squeak like a mouse although you really were fully prepared.

Your tutor wears a blue flannel with a white undershirt tucked beneath. The first button is opened, revealing a tiny piece of her pale skin. Below, her legs are covered with tight skinny jeans with a tear on the knee (you’re not sure if she fell or if it’s done purposely so), and to your surprise — no Chuck’s, but Doc Martens.

Noted. She has more than one pair of shoes.

When you greet Ellie with a cheerful — yet ever so relieved and breathy “Hi”, you kiss her on the cheek like you do all of your friends, and you can smell that cheap cologne again.

Amber, citrus, musk, lavender.

There’s a hint of actual Ellie in the mix as well — smoke, herbs, sweat… did she run here?

When you hug Ellie you focus on her scent.

When you hug Ellie she focuses on absofuckinglutely nothing — Her body goes rigid and stiff and she doesn’t hug you back until two way too long seconds pass, and she finally manages to place her hand on your waist.

But she doesn’t hug or squeeze, she rests it there.

Then she coughs.

“Hey”

You take a step back and you can tell she’s a bit flushed, or flustered — but you take it as her just running. You lean your hand against one of the thick pillars. Her orbs travel frantically from your eyes down to your… legs, that are completely bare and smooth and shiny, then they run down to your feet, which are covered with heels…

You think she might say something about it, about you, how ridiculous you look, so you’re washed up with self consciousness and shyness which is something you rarely get to feel, unless you’re with that damn girl for some reason.

Then her eyes hyper-focus on… the ceiling?

You grant Ellie a half smile and you really yearn to break the silence — but she’s ahead of you. Again.

“It’s… you have a really high ceiling” she says, then immediately glues her eyes on to the floor.

“Uh, shiny floor…” she chuckles so freaking awkwardly, grazing the bottom of her left legs doc’s on the floor so it squeaks. Immediately, Ellie apologizes.

“Shit, sorry, my shoes fuckin’ muddy. I uh, ran here”

You gingerly smile and furrow your brows. You theory has been proven correct. “You ran?”

“Walked, like, not ran ran”

There’s the tiniest droplet of sweat on Ellie’s forehead, which she wipe’s swiftly and clumsily with the back of her hand when she notices your eyes scan it. Oh, she ran ran alright. You do feel a little bad, picturing Ellie’s shoes hitting below her ass as she runs through the streets of your city, with a packed and awfully heavy mauve backpack — smacking against her back with every step she takes. You almost pout, you’re still leaning against the pillar and you smack your lips together — gloss and all, out of habit.

“Could’a given you a ride, y’know” you light sweetly. Ellie’s scarred eyebrow arches up in response. “You have a license?”

You so want to shove her shoulder playfully, but you’re convinced it’ll make her go absolutely rigid again. Physical contact bricks her up — noted.

“Why is that such a surprise?” you flash her a teasing smile. She smiles back at you.

“S’just, thought you’d have a personal driver. Can’t really imagine you driving that monster of a Rover back there —“

You nod in complete amusement. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Ellie teases, followed by a throaty chuckle. “Plus, took you more of a passenger princess type of girl”

And that sentence shouldn’t make you stutter the way you do next. It shouldn’t, but it does. You back away slowly and Ellie follows your footsteps.

“T-that’s, awfully presumptuous” you chirp. Her boots stomp on the floor and your heels click clack. “Plus, I don’t drive that Rover. My car’s in the garage with the rest of ‘em” you say matter-of-factly.

Ellie scoffs impishly behind you. You walk up the stairs and she follows suit. She’s confident when she teases, you think, which is a tad different than her usual awkward self, but if only you knew she nearly slipped down one of the steps as she noticed the tiniest, delicious, most precious piece of your flesh that was just exposed behind you as a result of your incredibly short nightie.

“Psh, so presumptuous”

As you walk towards your room, Ellie walks behind you although she has more than enough space to walk besides you. You get the feeling that she's nervous, even after her teasing and all, and you don't have to wonder why too much. Your house is huge, intimidating, filled with strange sculptures and paintings by obscure artists regular people have never even heard of. You don't have just one living room, you have three, and in each and every one of them stands a different technology piece of some sort. Also, your heels cost more than her outfit, could be more worth than the entirety of her damn closet, and most importantly — you're walking with a pink robe and some heels on.

When you reach your room, Ellie awkwardly smiles and straightens her muscular back. Then, she holds on to the straps of her backpack.

"First of all" you sigh, and now it's your turn to feel coy. "Thank you for coming over so late. I know it's like, absolutely ridiculous, and you know, you don't get paid for this so...", you flash Ellie an endearing smile, the apples of your cheeks rising sweetly as a humble thank you. "And, second of all... jus'... brace yourself?"

Ellie's brows arch up, but before she has time to ask — oh.

You both step into your lit room. Toodles follows by closely, entering the room as well, whilst rubbing his furry back against Ellie's calves.

"Yup..."

Ellie's fingers instinctively clasp onto the straps of her backpack once more, her eyes widening ever so slightly, but she fights to seem as unsurprised as she can — she fails miserably, because she gasps a little.

Your room is nothing but a... cotton candy dream world. A wall that's painted in pretty dusty pink, a princess bed that's nothing but a regal centerpiece. Above the bed, a canopy of gossamer silk drapes from a custom-crafted wrought iron frame, And the final sophisticated touch, a grand crystal chandelier, suspended from the ceiling. There are also clothes everywhere, empty water bottles, used sheet masks, a stack of books — some half-read, others forgotten, teetered precariously on a random corner. Ellie sticks out like a sore thumb. She stands out like a neon sign in a library, a skateboard at a black-tie gala.

You like it.

She clears her throat, stepping further into your room. "I take it black is your favorite color?" she titters sarcastically.

You giggle.

"Mhm, also I'm clearly very organized, and I hate clothes" you murmur and point out the pile of dresses haphazardly bunched in the corner of your room.

She should feel out of place. She should probably laugh, even sneak a pic — tell all her "cool" friends about how mindblowingly ridiculous the prissy rich girls room is. Instead, she thinks about how cute you must look cuddled up in a bed this big, how adorable it'd be to see your bed-head poking through the sheets at 8am, how sweet it must be to watch you skip around your room, trying on your shitload of clothes, throwing them in the air and huffing like a medieval brat of a princess. She wants to place a fucking tiara on your head. She sees your sticker collection from the corner of her eye, your vinyls, your candles, your crystals and Toodles' sofa.

And she likes it.

You take a deep breath. You shouldn't even care if she likes it or not, you shouldn't be bothered by it at all — you rarely are, but something inside of you yearns for... something.

"It suits you" she murmurs.

And that's certainly good enough, because it does.

You gesture Ellie to sit on the rolling chair next to yours, and her eyes still roam over the space of your room. “My room looks exactly the same, by the way… same uh, size too… n’stuffed animals… Shit, I like the elephant one”, she sarcastically remarks as she sits on the chair and hunches down, manspreading as she often does. Your eyes can’t help but roam down, because her damn thighs flexed under those jorts and you heard her, but you also kind of didn’t.

Ellie clears her throat and narrows her eyes. Jheez, she thinks, you must be absolutely exhausted since your eyes don’t seem to be able to focus.

“Huh?” you say, startled. You’re still standing up on those heels. Ellie sniffles and chuckles and her voice goes all quiet.

“Said pink nauseates me, that I hate those stuffed animals and that your elephant doll’s ugly as shit”

You roll your eyes and your tongue swipes over your glossy bottom lip. You bite it and you sit down on the chair. Ellie’s eyes scan over your chest and she averts her gaze like a deer caught in headlights.

“Hate you, chem tutor” you huff, resting your head on the palm of your hand. Ellie doesn’t maintain a second of eye contact but she chuckles and it’s cocky.

“You need me, and you need an A in chemistry”

You like that side of her.

You let your eyes blink lazily at her, a cheeky little smirk forming on your lips. When you open your mouth again, just to smack it on your glossy lips, you brush your leg ‘accidentally’ against hers, and rigid she goes. “Mhm, I definitely need you, Ellie…”

The apples of Ellie’s cheek shine in bright crimson and her hand flexes. She grabs her pen and clicks on it once. You didn’t mean it like that, she so obviously knows or believes, but it matters nonetheless. You like that side of her so much more.

You cross your pretty legs and let the tip of your heel graze her chair. “So, you want a drink before we start studying?”, you’re way too damn close, she nods — but she doesn’t need a ‘drink’ she needs a damn water fountain that directly flows onto her mouth and satisfies that damn drench. Is it possible for her damn knee to feel hot? Why is her knee feeling hot?

“Anything specific?”

“Jus’ waters fine” Ellie manages to murmur, lips forming a teeny tiny, shy, crescent smile.

“I was thinking more… like, wine? I have a wine cooler n’my room… if you wanted water i’d have to like, go downstairs and… It’s so lonely in there” your voice is saccharine, delicate, and it and coaxes Ellie’s mind.

“Wine’s perfect, I love wine” says Ellie.

She hates wine.

“Mhm, red or white?” — Your question comes when you lift your butt off the chair and walk slowly towards the cooler.

“Uh, r-red. S’much… richer” Ellie falters, remembering vaguely the time Joel had mentioned white wine’s for pussies. When she tried a red one, she gagged.

“Impressive” you note.

Ellie rolls the chair with the help of her heavy Doc's, and watches as you pour the red liquid into two delicate glasses. Your leg, she notices, is clad with a shiny, delicate golden piece of jewelry. Her eyes scan upwards, towards your bare thighs — the flesh is glistening, almost appearing as if it's covered with oil. Her mind drifts elsewhere, to a world in which your nightie is nothing but nonexistent, and those thighs...

Her stomach grumbles, she firmly holds onto it. Why NOW.

"Hungry?" you place the glass on the table, slightly nudging it towards Ellie.

She's starving.

you flash her a devilish smirk, cocking your head to the side.

"Oh, uhh... nope"

Famished.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie smut #ellie williams #tlou smut #wlw smut #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x femme reader

2K notes · View notes

saintobio · 6 months ago

Text

sincerely yours. (12)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

when a twist of fate led their marriage to the path of a quintessential tragic romance, two past lovers go through another series of experiences on love, heartbreak, identity, illness, and trauma along the road to a happily ever after.

genre. heavy angst, amnesia, modern au, 18+

tags/warnings. depression, mentions of cheating, trauma, implied suicide attempt, toxic relationships, illnesses

notes. 11k wc. finally. i wrote this with only one eye open so please don't mind the inconsistencies, i'm trying my best to tie any loose ends before we reach the ending. if the writing feels rushed, it’s bcos i’m just ready to wrap up this series 😭

series masterlist -> episode thirteen

You thought everything that had happened last night was just a dream.

Because you had gotten used to the constant disappointments and vicissitudes of your life, sharing such domestic bliss with the person you loved had started to feel far-fetched for you. It had become an unachievable fantasy, a colorful delusion created by your mind to conceal the actual darkness of pain that surrounded it.

But as you opened your eyes that morning, the familiar warmth of a sleeping Satoru’s embrace was the reality you never saw coming. The steady rise and fall of his chest, the comfort of his arms around you, it all felt surreal—like a fragile dream teetering on the edge of shattering. You wondered if it would be okay to stay here for now. To forget about the rest of the damn world and remain in his arms, staring at his beautiful saintly face, listening to his slow and steady heartbeat.

When Satoru stirred from his sleep, you knew your daydream was over. But he was pulling you dangerously close with arms wrapped around your frame and his lips pressed against your forehead. He was only half-awake, it seemed. His long white lashes reminded you of Sachiro’s as you watched him mumble incoherent words from his sleep, something along the lines of, ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘Akemi’.

That was your cue to pull yourself away from him. With guilt now coursing through your body, you sat up from bed and covered your naked body with the duvet. Akemi. You had completely abandoned the thought of Akemi last night, and now you were here in bed with ‘supposedly’ her man. As much as your heart was in bliss from last night’s events, the dark and cold reality was that you slept with a man who wasn’t yours. It was a principle you told yourself you would never cross, but everything concerning Satoru Gojou seemed to be bringing you to that.

“Satoru, hey.” Your voice almost came out as a plea as you shook his arm, your guilt eating at you with every minute that passed. “Wake up.”

His eyelashes fluttered as he struggled to open his eyes, blinded by the sunlight that gleamed through the window as he stretched his arms and looked at you. “Y/N?” he softly whispered, a hand tenderly placed on your back as he scooted closer. “What’s wrong?”

Slight disbelief blanketed your gaze. “You think this isn’t wrong?”

Satoru let out a sigh of exasperation, pulling his head back, and covering his eyes with a hand as if last night’s events played through his mind scene to scene. He was obviously caught in a mindwreck thinking about the girl he had just cheated on. “It shouldn’t be,” he mumbled, “But it feels like it.”

“So you do regret it,” you laughed at your own words, internally in pain.

“I didn’t say that.” He finally pulled himself back up, sitting as he pulled you towards him. “Y/N, if we really thought last night was wrong, we would have stopped after the first time.” He shook his head at the irony. “Look, it’s on me, alright? I put you in this situation.”

“And I allowed it,” you argued, “I allowed it, Satoru. It makes me feel dirty. I feel like, like I’m wrecking someone else’s home. It’s not me.”

Satoru held his breath, a look of hesitation dawning on his face as he realized that this wasn’t just a dream of his. It was pure and raw reality that he had made a mistake that he could never undo. While thinking it through, he rubbed his eyes and sat up, leaning against the headboard as he assessed the situation. Then, he looked at you, his expression softening as he spoke, “No, not your fault. It’s just complicated,” he insisted, “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one who owes ‘Kemi an apology.”

Each time you heard her nickname from him was a punch to your gut. And each silent cuss that left his lips was an arrow to your heart. So you put it on yourself to accept his reaction. “It’s okay. You can be honest and say last night was a mistake.”

“No, no, no. I didn’t say that,” he replied quickly, reaching out to take your hand.

But you already stood up from the bed, clutching the duvet around your body like a shield against the encroaching chill. Your throat felt tight, and tears threatened to spill, but you fought to keep them at bay. Satoru’s gaze followed you with an expression of helplessness, as if he was struggling to bridge the gap between his rights and wrongs.

As you turned to face him, a knot of frustration and heartache tangled within you. “So, what now?” you asked, trying your hardest to keep your composure. “How are we gonna fix this, Satoru? How?”

Before he could answer, the door to the cabin suddenly burst open, and Akemi stood in the doorway with her eyes wide with shock and fury. The confrontation followed as soon as she caught you in a compromising position with Satoru, and the words she uttered next were ones you least expected from her.

“You’re a hypocrite! You’ve become the person you despised the most when you were married.”

“You’re no better than Sera! And that’s why you’re miserable, and you’ll forever be miserable! If this is your way of getting back at me..”

“Then jokes on you, because Satoru will never be faithful to you. He’ll keep cheating on you, just like he did now with me! You two belong in that cycle!”

You felt like an outsider in your own heartbreak, the confrontation intensifying as you tried to process the bitter truth in silence. All you could do was stand there and cry. Even Satoru’s attempts to placate Akemi were futile as her anger only seemed to grow. The more her eyes danced back and forth between you and her lover, the more she wanted to destroy everything in her path.

Satoru’s face was indiscernible from where you stood. “Akemi, please, just listen—”

Akemi, however, was already turning on her heel and storming back into her cabin while eliciting loud, muffled sobs. Your chest tightened with sorrow and shame. Complete, utter shame of doing this to another woman. How could you even correct a situation like this? How could you pick yourself back up after you just trampled on another woman’s feelings because of your actions?

Satoru, like you, hesitated on his next move, his eyes meeting yours with a look of anguish. “I need to talk to her, Y/N. I’ll be back.”

Without waiting for your response, he already bolted after her, leaving you alone in a quiet, pathetic state. The door slammed behind him, the sound reverberating through the cabin like thunder in a heavy storm.

You didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to face everyone, didn’t have the guts to even talk to Shoko and Suguru who now both have to deal with such scandals. You were too ashamed of yourself, as if your femininity had been stripped off its rights after you slept with the man you swore you would never get back with.

“I didn’t mean it,” you could only silently whisper your laments, pacing around your cabin while swallowing the weakness that tried to escape. “I hate this.”

The minutes dragged on, and each second stretched into an eternity as you waited for Satoru’s return. For now, you sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, wondering what excuse he was telling Akemi, and what actions he would do to try and calm her down. Did he kiss her, perhaps? Did he cup her face and tell her that you were nothing but a mistake? What was taking him so long? Or were they doing things to try and erase the same deeds you two did last night?

The cacophony of voices and commotion from outside the cabin grew louder, and your curiosity led you to open your door, meeting the eyes of one of the hotel staff who sent you a look full of judgment.

“Where’s…” you hesitated if she was the right person to ask, “Where’s Satoru? Would you know?”

“Oh, ma’am. He already left the hotel half an hour ago… with Miss Akemi.”

Her answer hit you hard like a truck on a highway. And your heart dropped as you realized who became The Fool in these deck of cards. Satoru had not only run off after Akemi, but had also left you behind without a word.

The room felt colder now, the once-intimate sanctuary you shared with your ex-husband now a prison of your own grief. Even the familiar warmth of the bed seemed like a distant memory as you approached it, your body trembling as you thought of how you were treated like a dirty rag, thrown away after being used over and over again.

With a soft, choked sob, you collapsed onto the bed, the duvet still a tangled mess from earlier. And your emotions, so tightly restrained, finally broke free. You pulled the blanket around you as if it could shield you from the crushing pain. The betrayal, the sense of being discarded for another—it all converged into a torrent of anguish. All you could do was cling to the duvet as if it were the only anchor in a stormy sea.

——

Returning home didn’t make the situation any better.

Although you tried to tell yourself that you shouldn’t be waiting on Satoru to contact you, you still found yourself checking your phone multiple times a day. Each second that passed without hearing from him was another stab to your heart. But it shouldn’t feel like that. It shouldn’t, not when Satoru clearly made his choice of choosing yet another woman over you.

Of course, you knew what you did was wrong. In everyone’s eyes, sleeping with someone else’s man was unforgivable. There was no excuse, no way to justify your actions. Even if some people might side with you, saying you owed no one loyalty, it didn’t change how you felt about the whole situation. And that was because you remembered all too well the pain of being cheated on, and letting another woman endure the same heartbreak and betrayal was a weight on your conscience that you couldn’t ignore.

Sighing, you turned to the left side of the bed and saw Sachiro sleeping peacefully, clutching his favorite starfish plushie in his tiny arms. The thought of losing your son was unbearable, especially when he was your only source of calm amid the chaos that surrounded you. Caring for him was your solace, and his innocent presence served as a band-aid for your wounded heart. The most heart-wrenching part of this was knowing you couldn’t even repay him for the stability he brought you. Sachiro deserved a complete family to enrich his life, yet you—as his own biological mother—were unable to give him that.

“Sleep tight, Sachi.” You lightly stroked his white hair before planting a soft kiss on his cheek. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

The past few weeks had been a blur of emotions, work, and parenting—with each day blending into the next like a tornado of dull colors. You still hadn’t heard from Satoru, but the days of waiting and checking your phone for any notification from him did gradually stop. The only thing that didn’t stop replaying in your head like a broken record was the cabin incident, the very night that drew all these overthinking in your mind and in your heart.

Returning to work did provide some distraction, but it didn’t take away the sting. It also didn’t help that your staff noticed the change in your demeanor, and how distracted you often were during your meetings and warehouse visits. Even Nobara was worried about how absentminded you had become, but you brushed off all their concerns with a forced smile. After all, staying at home would do you worse than being at work.

Now, you were back in your office, and the soft knock on the door cut you off from your trance. It was Yuki peeking through the small opening on your door, her usual professional demeanor softened by a concerned expression. “Hey, Y/N. Do you have a minute?” she asked, stepping inside and closing the door behind her with a quiet click.

You nodded, trying to muster a smile. “Sure, Yuki. What’s up?”

“I wanted to check in on you,” she began, taking a seat opposite your desk, “If you need to extend your vacation, please, by all means, go ahead. It’s off-season, anyway. I’ll take care of everything here while you’re focusing on yourself.”

That wasn’t really a good idea. And you shouldn’t be slacking off work when this very fashion house you establish used to be your passion, not your job. Yet here you were, losing all the inspiration to even run a business. “I don’t know if I have the energy for anything else right now.”

“Well, if you’re too worried about leaving work,” Yuki continued, her tone shifting to a more business-like note, “the progress we’ve made with Hearte is looking really promising. The new collection is getting great feedback, and our upcoming showcase is shaping up well. We’re on track for a strong quarter.”

“All because of you, Yuki.” A spark of gratitude appeared on your face. “Thanks for the update. It’s good to know things are moving in the right direction.”

She then stood up and gave you a reassuring smile. “I’m here if you need anything, Y/N. But seriously, take some time for yourself. You deserve it.”

On that same evening, you came home to your father’s mansion, and the first thing that greeted you when you entered the foyer was Gen sitting by the living room. And needless to say, her expression was a mix of concern and frustration as if she had been waiting for you to return. You weren’t really in the mood to have some back-and-forths with her, but you also didn’t like how she dropped her phone on the table and crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing at you like she was a mother who could scold you like a child.

“I’m not even gonna say anything at this point, but did you really do it with him?” Gen’s voice was low, but the disappointment was palpable. You could feel it from a few meters away.

“What are you talking about?” you bit back, your already-terrible mood swings shifting into an unhealthy direction.

Gen responded by pointing at her phone, gesturing for you to take a look at whatever’s on it. Reluctantly, you grabbed the device, and as you were scrolling through the screen, you stumbled upon a blind item circulating on social media. The words were vague but pointed, hinting at a scandalous encounter between two ex-spouses, both of whom were well-known figures. Great. Your heart stopped as you realized that the article was very much about you and Gojou.

The online comments were brutal, not like you weren’t used to anonymous harassment anyway, but these ones were full of speculating and judging without knowing the full story. Everyone also seemed to be siding with “Ms. A” instead of you as though the person behind the article was clearly trying to paint you as the villain. It was written for the purpose of destroying your reputation rather than any regular exposé, and whoever wrote it was definitely someone who disliked you.

Your shoulders slumped as you scrolled through hate comment after hate comment, a seemingly endless vitriol for someone they didn’t even know, and avoided your sister’s gaze knowing full well that seeing her expression would only make you feel worse.

“Is it true?” your sister asked like there was even an ounce of chance that it was simply a rumor. Unfortunately, it was anything but.

Sliding her phone back on the coffee table, you drew in a deep breath. “I can’t undo it, Gen. It happened.”

“So, you did sleep with him? Am I hearing this right?” Gen sighed, rubbing her temples. “Do you have any idea what this could do to you? To Sachiro? People are ruthless, and now this blind item is all over the place and they’re targeting you like a punching bag!”

Your mouth felt heavy, as if it was weighed down by an invisible burden, making it difficult to form words or speak. And before you could think of a response, Ian became your temporary savior as he walked in with a calm but serious mien. “I’ve seen the post,” he said, holding up his phone. “It’s clearly defamatory, and we can take legal action. I’ll handle it.”

Even though Ian was a man of remarkable phlegm, you remained abashed, knowing that everyone’s feasting at the juicy rumor that you slept with your ex-husband. Yet, the only thing you could do was to put on a front. To save face. To act like someone you’re not. “Thank you, Ian. I’d appreciate that.”

Anticipating another lecture from Gen about Satoru, you began retreating to your room with your footsteps bouncing desperately on the grand staircase. This conversation was done. You just weren’t there to hear it anymore. However, as you climbed the stairs with a vacant mind, you could still hear your sister calling out to you.

“Y/N!” she called, her voice now tinged with concern. “I’m not going to give you a hard time. We can sort this issue out. Maturely.”

“I’m good.” Sorry, Gen. It was the anxious-avoidant side of you speaking. You didn’t want to discuss such a sensitive situation to anyone, even with your sister, because you weren’t ready to face all the negativity it would put you through. You were already dealing with enough, and going through yet another emotional turmoil might actually put you to your deathbed at this point.

So, for now, isolating yourself from the world was the best choice.

And as soon as you entered your room, you saw Sachiro’s nanny tucking him into bed. All your worries and self-destructive thoughts vanished in an instant the moment you looked at your son. It was like the heavens gave you your personal angel, a cute little cherub who brought nothing but light and happiness to your life. He was your sunshine, your shooting star, your bundle of joy. Nothing in this world could erase the pessimist in you than little Sachiro.

“I got it from here.” You thanked the nanny and asked her to close the door before quickly joining your son in bed, wrapping him in a warm, comforting hug—more for your own comfort than his.

“Mama?” he asked, his voice unusually raspy, and his chest rising and falling heavily. “I mwiss you, mama!”

You pressed your lips onto his forehead. “I miss you too, my baby. How was daycare today?”

He seemed to struggle to speak too, but Sachiro still did his best to recount his day while he was trying to catch air in between his sentences. “Teacher ask Sachi to go home, mama. Sachi is tired.”

“Baby, are you okay? Are you sick?” Now, your motherly instincts kicked in immediately. You could tell something was wrong, so you reached for a thermometer from the bedside drawer to check his temperature, and listened to his breathing at the same time. “What happened to Sachi? Do you want Mommy to take you to the hospital?”

Sachiro shook his head and gave you a sleepy smile. “No, mama. Sachi is just sweepy.”

When the thermometer beeped, you were relieved to see that his temperature was normal. “Are you having trouble breathing, my sweetheart?” You looked into his droopy eyes and gently placed your hand on his chest.

Once again, Sachiro shook his head. Maybe you were just overthinking. He often ran around the house or played in the bathtub before bed, which could explain why he seemed out of breath. It wasn’t the first time it happened.

“Okay, Sachi. Go to sleep now. Close your eyes, baby.”

“Night night, mama.”

For now, you turned off the night lamp, and headed to the bathroom in silent and careful steps. It was quiet enough indeed, but in your head was an awful noise you couldn’t escape. And stepping into the shower only increased the warfare in your mind, as it immediately brought images of Satoru and Akemi back in the cabin, the harsh comments from the article, and the lack of contact from your ex-husband which all overwhelmed you at once. By now, he would have already seen that article. Nanami or Miwa might have already alerted him about it. But the fact that he said nothing, the fact that he let the public scrutinize you, destroy you with such vile, hurtful words behind their screens brought you a kind of pain that you wouldn’t wish upon anyone else.

Because if it was Akemi in that position, he would have defended her in a heartbeat.

So in your silence, under the cascading water of the shower, you let the tears flow—its warmth distinguishable compared to the cold droplets falling on you. If only you had successfully drowned yourself that night at the lake. If only Satoru didn’t pull you back in, none of this would have happened.

That moment was deeply poignant to you, and you saw him in a new light you thought you would never see again because of the darkness of your past. Yet, with the events that followed your special moment, memories eventually turned into spite. Your sweet exchange twisted into something bitter. Looking back at that time when he kissed you at the lake now made you feel nauseous and hollow inside, with bile forming on your throat and threatening to be retched.

The most gut-wrenching part about this was the fact that there wasn’t anyone left who could rescue you from this abyss of heartache anymore.

——

There had been a sense of detachment in your emotions in the following days that passed, almost as though they belonged to a stranger inhabiting your body. Toji, the only person who comforted you at times like these, was no longer by your side to fulfill the warmth you once desperately sought, and now you were alone to face this cruel, mind-numbing battle all by yourself. It was you against the world. You against the entire populace inhabiting this living hell. And with that many enemies against one, how could you win?

It was quite funny, actually, that your humor took a surprising turn when you thought of how Sera must have felt when it was revealed to the public that she was Satoru’s mistress. The irony didn’t even stop at your thoughts alone, it manifested itself outside Hearte’s headquarters, wearing a pink puffer jacket and a white prairie skirt.

“Sera?” you blurted out her name in wonder, nonplussed as you got out of the car to approach her.

“Hey, Y/N.” She offered a casual smile while carrying an air of sophistication around her. That wasn’t the only thing that changed about Sera. Her hair was also shorter than the last you saw her, her face now sporting a more natural makeup, and her outfit a more modest yet classy choice. It was no longer the Sera who tried hard to fit in amongst the upper echelon of society, but a Sera who seemed to be satisfied at her current standing in life.

What an awkward encounter. Was her presence your hypocritical reminder for sleeping with Satoru behind Akemi’s back?

“What are you doing here?” you asked.

And she answered with, “I read about what happened. You know, the thing on the internet.” She took a moment to pause, probably trying to choose the right words to say to her previous adversary. Because in a way, you two weren’t exactly friends. And you were no longer rivals either. Satoru was the only common denominator here, and Sera proved her exact sentiments about him by saying, “I just wanted to let you know that I understand your side. It’s a tough situation.”

You looked at her, searching for any hint of insincerity, but found none. “You were once on my spot,” you pointed out and gauged whether or not she would take the bait. For all you know, she could be putting on an act. “I’m assuming you’re here to rub it in my face how much of a hypocrite I am.”

“No, that’s not it.” Sera was vehemently denying any malice on her intentions, and was instead trying to show you the sympathy of a woman who was once caught in the same predicament. “Look, I know it’s weird that I’m here out of all people. But the truth is, I just had to let you know that someone’s on your side. I’ve met the girl, okay? That… whoever she is. I don’t remember her name, and I hate having to pit two women against each other, but I’m telling you it’s about time you cut Satoru off your life. Completely. She doesn’t look like someone who’d easily let go. You’re just gonna suffer, Y/N.”

Perhaps three years was too far back in your life and that tables could turn in a direction that you didn’t expect, as you could recall fragments of memories from when your only dilemma was dealing with Satoru and Sera in your marriage. She used to be besotted with your ex-husband back then. But now, it wasn’t until you heard the way she spoke about him that you realized she must be harboring a grudge deeper than you had imagined. After all, he did ruin her life in ways you couldn’t imagine. And her advice, though unsolicited, made sense. Because you could understand where she was going with it. You could see the true intentions clearly conveyed by her face.

The only problem here was that you didn’t have it in your heart to agree with her. You were too much of an empathic person to be taking sides, even if the supposed villain in this painting was the ex-husband who, time and time again, hurt you. Your heart stubbornly cared for Satoru deep down, and your wifely instinct of defending him no matter how poorly he acted had always been there. No one could hate Satoru more than you did, that was true, but you also weren’t very accepting of hearing others describe him as this ruthless, cheating bastard.

That was the reason why talking to Gen had eventually exhausted you. Because no one knew the real Satoru Gojou behind his facade of an irresponsible and reckless husband.

“Now that you’re here…” The idea to redirect the conversation to another topic struck you, unwilling to engage in a conversation that pushed Satoru in a bad light. “Would you be interested in being a model for our upcoming campaign? We’re launching a new collection, and I think you’d be perfect.”

Sera’s eyes were an amalgam of confusion and surprise. “Uh, I mean… I’d love to, but why so sudden?”

“You have the face for it.” You shrugged, but still sent a smile her way. “Are you working right now? If not, this could open doors for you to be discovered by modeling agencies. I’m closely tied with them since I work in the fashion industry, so I can do a few calls if you want.”

“Hold on, I’m—” Sera touched her head, laughing as if she were dreaming this conversation. “Y/N, you’re doing too much here. I mean, I’d obviously love that, but wouldn’t it be awkward? People know me as your ex-husband’s mistress, and if they recognize me in Hearte ads, I’m sure as hell those fuck ass netizens won’t stop talking about it.”

She had a point, a very good point, but then again, your suggestion was only brought up because you had to change the topic. “Well, it’s just an offer to consider in the future.”

“And I appreciate you always extending a hand to help me even if I did you wrong in the past,” she said, feelings of shame lacing her voice. “I haven’t forgotten about what you did for my brother, that’s why I’m here. I’m not your enemy anymore, Y/N.”

Just then, the roaring engine of a classic red Ferrari pulled up to the curb, interrupting the unexpected conversation you were having with your ex-husband’s former mistress. The window rolled down to reveal a pink-haired man whom you recognized as Ryomen Sukuna, an up and coming tech mogul, that Toji had mentioned about many times before. His eyes were only on one woman alone, and it wasn’t you. “Ready to go, babe?”

Honestly, good for Sera. No wonder her aura had become different. They seemed to be in a stable committed relationship, something that you could only ever dream about. If karma was truly real, this was the perfect example for it.

In the back seat, you spotted a younger boy who looked exactly like Sukuna and, surprisingly, Megumi, the son of your ex-fiancé. Really? How many more people were you going to ‘coincidentally’ run into today?

“Hello, miss!” the other boy called out cheerfully, while Megumi offered a polite nod. You replied with a wave, feeling a small sense of normalcy in their innocent presence.

“I gotta get going, Y/N,” excused Sera, gesturing a civil goodbye.

But as she moved to get into the car, your phone buzzed in your pocket. A single glance at the screen made your heart drop. It was a call from the hospital.

“Hello?” you answered almost immediately, pressing the phone on your ears with a tight push.

“Ms. Y/N, this is the hospital. Your son, Sachiro Gojou, is in the ICU. We need you to come as soon as possible.”

Your stomach contracted into a tight ball as you stood rigid with terror. Then and there, the world seemed to tilt on its axis. “Wh-What do you mean he’s in the hospital?!” you managed to shout, swept by horripilation from the sudden news. “What happened to my son?! What’s—!”

Sera’s concerned gaze met yours as you desperately yelled into the phone, hyperventilating. Your trembling hand was threatening to drop the phone. “Y/N, is everything okay?”

“My son… I… he…,” you stammered, your voice shaky with fear and urgency. Your muscles locked in a momentary paralysis, eyes wide with astonishment, and surprise rendering you immobile. The thought of Sachiro in a critical state was about to make you faint, with the last bits of images you saw that afternoon were of Sera and her boyfriend rushing to catch you from completely falling to the ground.

——

Megumi didn’t know how to deliver the bad news.

He came home after Yuuji’s brother rushed you to the hospital, shocked by everything that happened in a span of a single day. His mind was aching from all the thinking he was doing; praying that little Sachiro will be fine, hoping that you would stay strong throughout, and lastly, wondering how he would break it to his dad that something terrible had happened.

His father wasn’t exactly the greatest man to tread this Earth, especially not after the drunken words he had ‘mistakenly’ uttered to you that night in Miami that resulted in your separation. Yes, Megumi knew every word and detail. His father told him everything just as a sober man would. Did you really think that the Toji Zen’in you knew would sputter that utter nonsense to you? That you had an empty soul. That he couldn’t be with someone like you. That you would forever be a placeholder to Megumi’s mother. Bullshit. None of those were true. His father told him that the reason he had to say those words, as piercing and trenchant as they may be, was because it was the only way he could free you from being caged in a relationship your heart didn’t genuinely want.

It was Toji’s last resort to hurt you with his words, hoping that you would wake up from your false fantasy and finally have a reason to leave a relationship with a man that wasn’t Satoru Gojou. If Megumi’s father wasn’t at the top of the list of Forbes’ richest men in Japan, he would have felt a great deal of inferiority complex over a younger man like Gojou. Not because of his looks and his riches, but because he had you. No matter what Satoru did, no matter how many times he hurt you, he was and would always be that man you wanted to be with.

Sighing, Megumi’s first task upon coming home was to check on his father’s room, only to find the dark room void of its owner. When he made his way down the grand staircase, he met an ill-spirited Naoya who was ranting to Mai about Sera flaunting Sukuna in front of his face. Megumi’s sigh was then followed by another. The drama in this house was relentless. He felt like he was exhaling endlessly, like a malfunctioning appliance.

“Where’s dad?” asked Megumi, directing her question to a more rational Maki.

The tall, green-haired girl gave him a knowing shrug. “You already know,” she said, “Drowning himself in alcohol down at the bar.”

As always.

Megumi jogged around the estate to eventually find his father at one of the wet bars near his home office. He was there, seated on a stool, his head drooping low with a glass of premium scotch in hand. How many glasses he’d had, Megumi could only hope the numbers weren't that high. But upon approaching his father, his presence was barely acknowledged as he sat on the stool next to him, suggesting that the grown man might be more inebriated than his son had expected.

“Dad,” spoke the Zen’in heir, “Dad, you good?”

Toji lifted his head up, three sheets to the wind, as a smile crept up on his scarred lips. “Son.”

“Let me take that.” Megumi grabbed a hold of the glass of scotch, sliding the strong liquor away from his father. “There’s something I ought to tell you.”

Toji stayed nonchalant, sitting upright and tapping his fingers on the counter. “What’s it about this time?” he asked. “I’ve told you, I can’t stop the elders from arranging your marriage unless you’re honest with me about someone you like. I know you have someone in mind, but you’re not saying who. Are you just shy?”

Megumi gave his father a look of exasperation. He’s rambling, he thought, frustrated with his father’s inebriated chattering. “It’s not about that. It’s about Y/N-san.”

The mention of your name was the only thing that made Toji's demeanor shift to one of genuine concern. “What happened?”

“Sachi’s in a critical condition,” the younger Zen’in went straight to the point, “Y/N-san went manic over it and fainted before we could get her to the hospital.”

Toji was quick to grab his coat and car keys, as if all the alcohol in his system had immediately evaporated. But before he could leave, Megumi caught his father’s arm and pulled him back.

“What?” said Toji, concern and urgency blanketing his gaze. “I need to be with her.”

“Do you really need to?” Megumi countered. “Dad, I know it’s not right for me to stop you in this crucial situation, but are you gonna do this every time she’s in trouble? Do you plan to do this forever? Do you plan to keep drowning yourself in alcohol thinking about her? We care for her like family, that’s true, but you and her aren’t a thing anymore. Your responsibilities in taking care of her should stop, too. You, yourself, said it’d be best if she stopped being reliant on you. Now, do yourself a favor and stop trying to be this pathetic superhero.”

The concern etching on Tojis’s face softened into a sense of realization, a sense of candidness that only someone as straightforward as his own son could evoke. Megumi had to, not because he didn’t care for you anymore, but because he had to ensure he wouldn’t lose his father over a relationship that had already ended. Toji was the only real family Megumi had left.

“Stay, dad,” he pleaded, “Please.”

Toji took a deep breath and released it in the same second. “Okay,” he softly said, ruffling his son’s hair. “I won’t leave.”

——

Why is it that you keep attracting things, places, and people that you disliked the most?

You hated hospitals, and you had spoken about it enough to make it clear how much you dreaded going to a place where your worst memories had taken root. Yet, the sterile environment seemed to beckon you, dragging you back with a new nightmare each time. It was beyond your worst fears that you would find yourself racing through the halls mere minutes after regaining consciousness, desperately trying to reach where your son was.

Please be okay. Please be okay.

Frantically, you scanned the corridors, searching for the ICU and hoping that what you had just heard was nothing more than a cruel illusion, that this was all just a nightmare. You weren’t a deeply devout person, but you did send prayers to every saint you could think of, hoping that Sachiro’s current state wasn’t in the median between life and death.

Because if you lost your son, then there was no point in living anymore. This life wouldn’t be worth enduring.

“Y/N!”

You weren’t the first one to arrive outside the pediatric ICU, with Gen and your father already being there moments before you came. You were struggling to breathe by the time you reached them, feeling your heart race with a thunderous beat. “Gen… Dad, what h-happened to him?” You couldn’t stop the weakness in your voice. “Tell me he’s fine, please. Please. My baby. If anything h-happens to him, I’m g-gonna die, Gen! I c-can’t h-have that!”

Gen quickly enveloped you in a tight embrace, trying to offer any form of comfort she could. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. Dad and I are just as shocked.” She held you closer, her voice trembling as she, too, was just as anxious as you. “Sachi refused to eat and complained about having a hard time breathing. He was so pale and his lips were blue. We knew we had to rush him to the hospital immediately.”

“Oh my God.” Your hand flew to your mouth, trying to stifle the uncontrollable cries that were escaping. The news of Sachiro developing cyanosis shattered your heart, and the crushing reality that you weren’t there to take care of him tore you apart. “My baby, no. No, no. H-He—”

“Y/N!”

Out of breath and also visibly shaken was the father of your son, Satoru, who came running to your side the moment his eyes landed on you. Behind him was his mother, clutching a rosary in her hand as both of them were seemingly shell-shocked in the same magnitude as you and your family were. Everyone cared for Sachiro’s well-being, everyone prayed for his safety, and the thought of losing an angel like your son was a soul-crushing thought that sent you slipping into a chasm of suffering.

“Wh-What happened to Sachi?” Satoru asked in desperation, his question raised to everyone in the vicinity—you, your family, the nurses. But no one could give him a decent answer. “Please, tell me my son’s alright. Tell me.”

You watched him walk in circles, raking his fingers through his hair as if he was seeking anything to hold onto. And you, feeling that magnet that pulled you closer to him, broke away from Gen’s embrace to look at your son’s father. “Satoru…”

“Y/N,” his voice cracked as he met your gaze, “Our son.” He stopped, ready to wrap you in a hug—a moment of solace you both desperately needed in this critical time. But just as he pulled you close in a fragile attempt to find comfort together, the door to the ICU swung open, abruptly ending the brief respite.

All of you immediately rushed over to the doctor, the sterile white walls and the distant hum of hospital machinery did nothing to calm the turmoil inside you.

“Doctor, how’s he?”

“How’s my grandson, doc?”

“Doc, my son, is he okay?”

“Is he stable, doc?”

“Doctor, how’s my son, please?” you asked, your body growing tense to the point of shaking.

The doctor took a deep breath, his expression serious amidst the fusillade of questions thrown at him. “We’re currently running a series of tests on the patient. We suspect Sachiro may have congenital heart disease, specifically a ventricular septal defect with associated pulmonary hypertension.”

No, it can’t be. It’s not possible! The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You struggled to process the information, your vision blurring with tears and your heart drumming a rapid staccato inside. You didn’t need to look at everyone to know that they all, for a moment, looked at you. “Heart disease? But… how? I didn’t think—”

“Can you explain more, doc? Please.” Gojou was desperate, his bright blue eyes now dull and severely clouded with a brewing storm. It was as if he was keeping himself from crying.

The doctor continued gently, “VSD is a condition where there’s a hole in the heart’s ventricular septum. It can lead to pulmonary hypertension, which means the blood pressure in the lungs is elevated. It’s a serious condition, but we’re doing everything we can to assess the extent and provide the best treatment.”

“N-No, oh God. My baby.” You felt your knees go weak, and you sank down against the wall, with more tears cascading down your cheeks like waterfall. The weight of the diagnosis was crushing, but the hardest part was realizing that this was something you had unknowingly passed on to Sachiro. The heart disease was inherited from you and had now manifested in your beloved son.

It’s my fault. It’s my fault!

The doctor placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “We’ll keep you updated as soon as we have more information. Please, try to stay calm, Y/N. It’s not best for your heart to panic right now. Sachiro is in good hands.”

You were unable to speak through the sobs that wracked your body. The hospital corridor felt endless, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt and helplessness that consumed you. You could feel all eyes on you, judging, harboring hatred, carrying deep-rooted resentment. You were torn apart by the knowledge that the very thing you had feared most was now a reality for your son.

“It’s… It’s my fault,” you sobbed, covering your face with your quivering hands, “This is all my fault. I gave it to Sachiro, I… I’m a terrible mother!”

Gen knelt beside you, her hands gripping your shoulders with a firm yet gentle touch. “Y/N, stop it. This is not your fault. You didn’t choose this for Sachiro.”

Your father, who had been pacing anxiously nearby, joined in. “Your sister’s right. You’re blaming yourself for something beyond your control. We’re all here for you. We’ll figure this out.”

But amidst your familial exchange, Satoru stood nearby, frozen and listless. His silence only added to the overwhelming distress. Was he also blaming you for what Sachiro was going through right now? Was he also angry at you for putting his son into this critical situation?

Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the commotion—voice that was equally harsh and spiteful. It was Satoru’s mother, boring her fiery eyes into your skull as she opened her mouth. “That’s right! You’re self-aware, aren’t you?” she spat and stood rigidly, arms crossed defensively over her chest. “This is all your fault. You’re such an irresponsible mother! You can’t even take care of my grandson properly, and now you’ve passed your disease onto him!”

You looked up in shock, seeing Satoru’s mother standing there with a disdainful expression. The sting of her words felt like a knife twisting in your heart, because they were true. They were painful, yes, but they were true. And all you could do was lower yourself until you were sitting on your haunches, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

“Excuse me?!” Gen stood up, her eyes blazing with anger that came from the deepest pits of hell. “You’re unbelievable, Auntie. How dare you speak to my sister like that! You have no right to blame her for this. I hope to God it was you in the ICU right now instead of Sachiro!”

“You…!”

Satoru’s mother raised a hand to slap Gen, but your father stepped forward, his face a mix of disbelief and indignation. “This is despicable. How can you stand here and say such things to someone who’s already suffering? Weren’t you friends with my wife once?”

Satoru, who had been standing still, suddenly moved with a menacing calm. His face was hard as stone, and his eyes narrowed in anger. What was scarier was him approaching his mother with a threatening stance. “Are you really this pathetic, mother?” Satoru questioned with a cold, cutting tone. “Do you get off on making Y/N suffer? Do you think you’ve gotten away with slapping her behind my back? You don’t get to blame Y/N for anything. Any fucking thing!”

His mother’s eyes widened in shock, but she tried to defend herself at the ruthless stance her son was carrying. All of you were stunned at the realization of how Satoru resembled his cruel father at that moment. “B-But Satoru, my son—”

“Shut up!” Satoru cut her off, his voice harsh and unforgiving, before he threw his cold knuckles against the hard surface of the concrete wall. “I don’t want to see your face ever again! Don’t consider yourself my mother any longer, you witch. You’ve lost that privilege.”

This took a wild turn, and hearing the brutality of Satoru’s words was like a thunderclap in the tense atmosphere. His mother’s face turned pale, her mouth opening and closing in shock as she struggled to respond.

“Get out of here,” Satoru commanded, his voice uncaring towards her. “Leave, and don’t ever come back. You’re nobody to me now.”

With that, Satoru’s mother turned and fled, stumbling down the corridor as if she was the victim in this situation. However, the tension in the air began to dissipate as soon as she left, leaving you, Satoru, Gen, and your father in a heavy silence. Only your sniffles could be heard.

Even Gen, who was often hostile around your ex-husband, had remained quiet and composed after she watched him take such drastic measures to keep his mother away.

Everyone was silent. Pure, unbothered silence until Satoru’s phone began to buzz loudly, cutting through the stillness of the hallway. For a moment, he closed his eyes, then he fished his phone out of his pocket where you caught a glimpse of the caller ID.

Akemi.

——

The ICU only allowed short visits and one person at a time, so there was no need for everyone to stay the night. You were the parent, you were the one responsible for your son’s situation, so you insisted it was best for your dad and Gen to go home and get some rest. You didn’t mind watching over your son for the whole night, because coming home without him was the last thing you would do right now.

My precious angel.

Sachiro lay in the hospital bed, his small chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The doctors had managed to stabilize him for now, and the sight of his heart monitor showing a stable rhythm was a small comfort amidst the chaos.

Still, you sat by his bedside, mindful of your timed visit as your hands gently held his tiny ones, feeling the warmth of his small fingers. You glanced down at the medical report on your other hand, trying to make sense of the complex terms and figures.

The words blurred together as your tears fell silently onto the paper. “I’m sorry, baby.” He didn’t deserve this. He’s just a baby. “Mommy’s very sorry.”

You tried to stay strong, putting on a brave face for your son, but inside, you were falling apart. It was impossible not to blame yourself over this, wishing you could do more than just be present around him. This was the comeuppance of your own actions after you focused on your own emotions for the past few weeks to the point of neglecting your son’s wellbeing. If you had been more present in his life, if you had been more observant, you would have easily noticed the signs. Now, you allowed Satoru to find a flaw in your duty as a mother, and he could cite this very event as evidence to get full custody of him. That is, if he were to ever consider taking your son away from you.

But in the first place, he should be the last person to do that, because where exactly was he now?

Your thoughts kept drifting back to the earlier scene, where he excused to answer Akemi’s call, and later that night told you he had to leave and “check something” urgently. He promised he’d be back before midnight, but where was he?

Resentment began to fester within you.

You had been very perceptive of Akemi’s feelings, apologetic in the way you supposedly betrayed her, but the fact that she was still scrambling for Satoru’s attention in the midst of your son’s hospitalization was something you could never forgive her for.

And as for Sachiro’s father, how could he prioritize another woman when his own son was in such a critical state? The confusion of his actions was overwhelming. It felt like a cruel deja vu that, at a time when you needed him the most, he was choosing to be elsewhere. You could accept it if it was a choice between you and another woman, but between his son and her? His behavior was unacceptable, disgusting even, and it only served to deepen your grudge against him.

You clenched your fists, trying to push away the surge of anger that threatened to consume you after seeing that the disparity in his actions felt like both a betrayal and a slap to the face. Your poor son. You stared at Sachiro’s peaceful face and stroked his cheek. How could Satoru be so indifferent to his own flesh and blood?

The room was silent except for the soft beeping of the heart monitor and your quiet sobs. The situation was almost too much to bear, and your resentment towards Gojou grew heavier by the second. Each minute felt like a lifetime, and the emptiness left by his absence was a constant reminder that yet again he chose another woman over his own family.

It’s okay. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. I won’t leave you, Sachi. For Sachiro’s sake, you needed to find the strength to carry on, to be the mother he needed in this moment of crisis and never again failing to be there for your only child.

At exactly 10:30 pm, the nurse came in and told you visiting hours were over. You complied.

At 11:00 pm, Ian paid you a quick visit and talked to the nurses, perhaps giving them reminders to look after you.

At 12:00 am, you were alone again. Seated at one of the benches outside the ICU—sleepless, starving, and nauseous.

At 2:00 am, you remained in your seat despite the sterile smell of antiseptic mingling with your own discomfort. The flickering fluorescent lights above did little to help you get some proper sleep. The cold air-conditioning alao made you shiver slightly, hugging your own body to try and give yourself some warmth.

At 4:00 am, you awakened from the noise of the movements beside you. Realizing you had fallen asleep, you looked up and saw Satoru taking a seat to your left. His coat was draped over his arm, and he offered it to you.

“Are you cold?” he asked, his voice softer than usual, but you could see the bags under his eyes suggesting the sleepless nights he’d had for the past few days. “You can use my coat.”

You took the coat, but as you caught a whiff of it, a familiar scent of Akemi’s perfume lingered. Rose Prick by Tom Ford. It was a scent you’d come to recognize after your years of being her best friend, and it made your stomach turn slightly. Without any hesitation, you handed the coat back to him. “No, thank you. I’m fine,” you replied, avoiding his gaze. Looking into his eyes was the last thing you would do.

And you knew Satoru was sighing, but didn’t press the issue. “The nurse mentioned you haven’t eaten today.” He pulled out a small bag of assorted fruits, placing it gently on the seat between you. You eyed the offerings, feeling a pang of hunger but also a strange aversion. “I bought some fruit. Is there anything you like?”

You took a deep breath and broke the silence with a hint of sarcasm. “You’re really good at this, huh?”

“At what?” was his immediate question, puzzled.

“Hitting two birds with one stone.”

“Y/N…”

“Stop trying to take care of me,” you interrupted, your tone sharper than intended. “ I don’t need it.”

“But—”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “You can’t even be here for Sachi. You can’t even choose your son. He’s in a life and death situation and we’re still only receiving scraps of your attention.” It was the deep-seated grudge spilling out of you. “You’re so good at abandoning people, huh? Even though that’s what you hate the most. You’re so good at disappearing without even a text or call to check on me and our son. After that night at the cabin, you just…” you paused, realizing that you were opening too much of your heart to a man who didn’t deserve it. “Forget it. Just go home to Akemi. Live a happy life, build a family with her. Forget us. I don’t care. I’ll take care of Sachiro myself. I’ve done it for three years!”

“Y/N, I’m not trying to hurt you. I just…” Satoru fumbled for words, his somber blue eyes bearing the history of your shared heartbreak. It was as though the painful memories of your past were flooding his thoughts, seeking justification as to why he couldn’t pick you again this time. “I had to be there for her. She’s…”

You turned away before he could see your expression, because your heart was splintering at the thought of Satoru Gojou shattering it once more. As he always did. There seemed to be no end to this relentless heartbreak, as if any hope of a happy ever after with the man you loved would only return a pain that was a hundred times worse. Perhaps, this was destiny’s way of telling you that you and him weren’t meant to be. That any wishful thinking of being with Satoru again was only something that you could expect in another universe.

So, in your defense, you had to pull on a facade. A mask that you had to wear in the face of being the target of never-ending despair. “Satoru, I don’t want to talk about it,” you said firmly, concealing the raw ache in your voice with a smile. “And I don’t expect you to choose me every time. It’s okay. It’s happened before.”

“Can’t you see I’m hurting, too?” he asked, his voice breaking. Though you couldn’t see his face, the tremor in his voice revealed his struggle to hold back tears.

You couldn’t understand why he would be hurting with his decision. When faced with two crossroads, he always seemed to pick the path that led away from you. So instead of trying to comprehend his pain, you decided it was time to honor your own. For your sake. For Sachiro’s.

“Let’s just forget about that night,” you declared, wiping your eyes as you got up from your seat and prepared to walk away. “From this day forward, let’s pretend it never happened.”

——

Akemi’s apartment was dark when Satoru stepped inside.

And to be honest, the darkness was a relief. At least, she wouldn’t be able to see the lassitude etched on his face, not just from juggling his time between his son and her, but from the constant ache of hurting the person he loved.

Miscommunication is a couple’s greatest enemy, and the persistent disconnect between you two, coupled with the reluctance to clear things up, had worn Satoru down. He wanted to end this—the feeling of helplessness and the torment of seeing the woman he cared for caught in a labyrinth of despair.

The hospital visits to Sachiro alone had been a whirlwind of emotions and responsibilities, and this brief visit to Akemi felt like an unwelcome detour, but one he couldn’t avoid. Satoru knew his heart wanted to stay in the hospital with you, to wait for any updates on his son, to hold your hand and care for you, yet here he was, dragging his feet across the carpeted floors to approach Akemi.

“Hey.” She was sitting on the couch, looking frail but alert as if she had been desperately waiting on his arrival. She had recently started treatment for her stage 3 endometrial cancer, and Satoru could see the toll it was taking on her, physically and emotionally. He would be cruel to leave her hanging like this, to neglect her at her worst when she had been there by his side at his. Satoru had an unspoken accountability on her, because it wouldn’t be fair for him to just abandon her after she poured all her heart and soul into helping Gojou get back onto his own feet.

“Hey, ‘Kemi,” he said, his tone soft but distant. “Did you take your meds today?”

Akemi looked up at him, her eyes tired and heavy. “I did. I took them just like the doctor said. How’s Sachiro?”

Gojou’s expression tightened. “He’s holding steady at the moment.”

A heavy silence settled between them before Akemi broke the tension. “I’m glad he’s stable,” she said, quietly. “Are you okay?”

He nodded once, his mind already drifting back to the hospital. “Yeah. Listen, I need to head back soon. Nanami and Miwa will be alternating in looking after you from now on. They’ll make sure you’re okay while I’m dealing with Sachiro. I have to focus on my son.”

Akemi’s frail hand reached out to gently grip his arm, the other held her lower abdomen in pain. “Satoru, please don’t go just yet. Can’t you stay a little longer?”

Now’s not the time to feel guilty. It was either her or Sachiro. Her or his son. Gojou decided to pull his arm away gently, his gaze distant. “Sachiro needs me, Akemi. You know that.”

Akemi’s face fell, but she knew it would be ridiculous to argue over that. “No, I understand. I get that. I want you to focus on Sachi, too. I just wish—” Before she could finish, her voice faltered, and she looked up at him with a hesitant gaze. “Satoru, do you regret that I took you back even if you cheated on me?”

The question caught him off guard, and Satoru’s blue eyes narrowed as he processed her words. He had been so focused on his responsibilities and the immediate crisis that he hadn’t given much thought to their ‘relationship’. All he knew was when he showed up at her doorstep back at the cabin, he was only going to try and end things with her. He was only going to clarify the longstanding feelings you and him poured out to each other that night, which was why he ended up sleeping with his ex-wife. But because Akemi suffered at the time, because her pelvic pain worsened to the point of an emergency, he had to hold back and just take care of her in the weeks that passed. He was caged in this situation like a prisoner who was found guilty for the crimes he had committed.

Just be honest, Satoru. Disregard everything else and just be honest. Satoru believed it was about time he stood his ground no matter the consequences. “You can’t take me back if we’re not together, ‘Kemi,” he breathed out those words, reticent on hurting her with the truth. If she would lash out on him, throw a vase on his head, slam a book on his face—he wouldn’t mind. He was ready to accept all the violence he deserved from being an asshole. “You knew from the start that this, us, was only temporary. It was never supposed to be serious.”

Her expressions turned doleful. “Then, in that case, did you at least…” Tears welled up in her eyes as she she paused, “Did you at least love me?”

“I just… I never saw it that way, Akemi.” Satoru’s honesty would destroy her, but he didn’t want to keep on sending out false hopes. He had to be firm, and while he was grateful for everything she did for him, that doesn’t mean he owed her his life and loyalty. In the first place, he warned her that he wasn’t ready to be in a relationship. And God, he was far from ready to even settle down, yet Akemi constantly hinted at wanting to tie the knot with him. Again and again did she mention the thought of a wedding and a child and her own family.

Satoru wanted all those things too, but with another person in mind. He was only set on having those things with one woman.

Akemi’s face paled upon hearing his answer and the fact that he didn’t even bother to explain himself. “I see. I guess I needed to hear that.”

Gojou looked at her with a mix of regret and sympathy. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for hurting you like this, I really do.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

It definitely wasn’t fine, but Satoru had to take her word for it as he got out from the couch and gave her a gentle pat on the head. “I have to go. Nanami will be here soon. Please make sure to follow the treatment plan and take care of yourself.”

Akemi nodded, though her gaze remained fixed on the floor, unable to meet his eyes. “Alright. I’ll see him when he gets here.”

As Gojou turned to leave, he felt a pang of guilt twisting deep in his gut but pushed it aside. He was a father first before anything else. Sachiro would always be his first and foremost priority amongst everything else.

——

After leaving Akemi’s place, Satoru was driving his car into the evening air beyond the speed limit. And his mind was racing together with him as he thought of you, your son, and the myriad of emotions he was struggling to manage. He couldn’t wait to be home, not literally at his own place, but anywhere with you and his son was his definition of home.

It would be diabolical for him to run into your arms and yell, ‘I’m free! We can be together again!’ No, that would be cruel and disgusting. He respected Akemi just as he respected you. It was himself that he couldn’t respect, because he was the one responsible for the mess that he created. And adding Sachiro’s critical condition on top of the already festering wounds in your relationship? It truly was the manifestation of karma in his actions.

His footsteps bounced through the hospital corridors the moment he arrived, each impatient step was ready to see your face and tell you he would never leave you and Sachiro now. But as he neared the pediatric ICU, his eyes darted around, the sight of his ex-wife was nowhere to be found. And instinctively, his heart pounded in his chest, and a drum of panic seemed to warn him of a storm that was about to come. Something was off, and it scared him.

“Nurse,” he called out, his voice edged with urgency as he approached their station. “Where’s my wife? The boy’s mother?”

The nurse looked up, recognizing the infamous CEO’s face. “Uh, Mr. Gojou, she was heading to the rooftop, I think.”

“What?!” he unintentionally yelled at her face, “Why didn’t you guys keep an eye on her?”

“Sir, calm down. She’s probably going to get some fresh air.”

A cold chill ran down his spine. You were definitely not there for that.

Without another word, he sprinted towards the stairs, taking them two at a time instead of waiting at an elevator together with a group of people. He had to get to you as soon and as fast as he could without another second to waste. Although the climb felt endless, his mind racing with fear and dread was the push he needed to finally reach you.

And upon bursting through the door to the rooftop, he was met with the soft whisper of the evening wind and the heart-stopping sight of you standing perilously close to the edge.

“Y/N!” he called out, his voice breaking with desperation. “Don’t do this. Please, step back.”

You stood motionless, eyes fixed on the distant horizon, the city lights blurring into a kaleidoscope of sorrow. “The world hates me, Satoru,” you whispered, the mellow tone of your voice carried away by the wind. “I’m a burden to everyone, even my own child. I-I just… I want to end it all.”

“No!” Satoru’s heart shattered at your words while he moved closer, his hands outstretched and careful not to startle or provoke you. He was dying to have you in his arms and keep you safe. “Y/N, please. Come back. What about Sachi? What about me? We need you. Sachiro needs you. I need you.”

What exactly made you go here? How did thoughts of ending yourself suddenly come into fruition? Was there something you discovered that brought you to this ultimatum? Gojou was desperate, utterly desperate, to hear what was running through your mind so that he could at least ease the burden that you were carrying all by yourself. He was once in the position where he wanted to commit too, and he knew the temptation that came with permanently escaping the cruelty of the world in just a single action.

“Y/N, please. Please, I’m begging. Come to me,” he rattled on in a suffocating whisper, the pleading in his voice was heavy, “Please. I love you. Only you.”

It was when you turned around that Gojou’s world collapsed, and the words you said after had shattered his entire universe.

They were still.

You.

And the wind.

“I’m pregnant,” you finally confessed, voice cracking as you looked at the faint tears that fell from Satoru’s eyes. “I don’t wanna have this baby.”

#series: sincerely yours #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojou satoru x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo angst #gojo x reader

2K notes · View notes

redwing4life · 8 months ago

Text

mdni

wanna know a bucky trope that sends me spiralling? bucky filming you all drunk on his cock.

imagine your thighs all sticky with cum, the three orgasms bucky’s pulled from you painted across the soft flesh like paint on a canvas. bucky can’t stop tracing his throbbing pink tip over your filthy thighs; his own white seed mixes with yours and you whine at the sound.

“never get tired of this, doll.” bucky’s sultry tone washes over you, your mind scrambled with need. “seeing you all sticky, covered in our cum -fuck- i- i gotta film this, sweets, let me film you, huh?”

a desperate moan falls from your swollen lips when the super soldier pulls away from you, the warmth of his tip no longer pressed into your thighs. in want of your boyfriend, you reach out for him, but he’s already on the other side of the room.

“bucky…” your voice is high and needy, “bucky, baby, come back. i need you.”

his usual arrogant chuckle greets your ears, forcing your thighs closer together to ease the fresh wave of heat flooding your core. you know that laugh, it’s the one he makes whenever you’re drunk on his cock.

bucky crawls back on the bad, hovering over your sweat-sheen body, and brings his phone over your face.

“smile for me, doll.” he orders, the command drawing your brows together in pleasure. you look up at him through your lashes, lids half shut before you focus on the camera.

“there she is.” bucky hums when you grin, albeit tiredly, up at the lens. “tell me how many times i’ve made that sweet little pussy cum, baby. tell the camera.”

“three.” you whine. you watch bucky lower the camera to your dripping cunt as he speaks and start trying to close your legs.

bucky taps your thigh harshly, tutting. “come on, sweets, show your sarge what a mess i’ve made of you.”

his rough palm slides down to your knees and slowly pries them apart, a growl rippling from the base of his throat as you bare yourself to him in submission.

“good girl.”

you keen beneath the camera, pussy throbbing at the praise. a smirk tugs at bucky’s lips while you writhe under him, he knows he’ll enjoy watching that back when he’s on a mission with his hand wrapped around his length.

holding the phone in his vibranium hand, bucky reaches down to run a calloused finger through your glistening folds, the swollen petals quivering at his touch.

“aw, is my sweet princess all sensitive after all those orgasms? huh?”

you claw at his flesh hand, nodding so fast you make yourself even more dizzy than you already are.

“m’so sensitive, sarge, please- pl- oh my god.”

your eyes are rolling to the back of your head before you can finish your sentence as bucky slides a finger into your tight hole. he prays to god that the camera picked up on the squelch of yours and his cum when he pushes inside you.

“fuck, sweets, you’re so goddamn wet, gonna make me nut all over the sheets.” bucky moans, hips rutting against the soft cotton duvet while he works your sex.

sinful sounds echo across the room, bucky’s phone capturing every single thrust of his hand. he adds a second finger, earning a squeal of contest from you.

“no- bucky, i can’t, i cant, it’s too much, please, just one, please.”

your broken pleas do nothing to slow the grind of bucky’s hips against the bed, your whiny voice merely encouraging him to play with his cunt even more.

“yes you can, and you will. you’ve been so good for your sarge so far, haven’t you, princess? tell me how good you’ve been for me.”

you open your mouth to reply, suddenly interrupted by a third finger stretching the walls of your pussy. a gasp falls from your swollen lips and it morphs into a cry of intense pleasure.

“bucky!!!” you scream, accompanied by the sloppy noises of bucky’s palm slapping your wet clit.

“i’m waiting, sweets.”

releasing a small whine, you look down at your boyfriend to find his eyes already on yours.

“i’ve been so good, sarge. just wanted to be a good girl for you, give you all- fuck- all my cum, be your best girl, all drunk on my sarge’s cock and fingers a-and mouth, oh”

his fingers keep curling and hitting that one stop that’s making you see stars and you begin heaving your chest up and down, desperately searching for a breath that would satisfy your needs. bucky turns the camera to your face so he can look back on your writhing body.

“cock’s so hard for you, princess. you’re so fucking beautiful like this, gonna make you cream all over my fingers again and then stuff you full o’ me”

“please sarge, please- ugh- i’m gonna cum!”

“let go sweets, cover me in your sweet juices”

and then you cum and then he cums against the sheets and then he fucks you and the he eats you out and then you clean up his cock with your tongue and then he cleans you up with a cloth and then he runs you a bath and then he holds you till you fall asleep and then a week later on a mission bucky fucks his fist while watching the video and then he cums to it and then he cums to it again and then an hour later he cums to it again and then-

1K notes · View notes

americanblanketcompany · 2 years ago

Text

White Duvet Cover, 100% Cotton, American Blanket Company

White Duvet Covers; when we think about a White Duvet Cover we may have thoughts of a European vacation in Austria or Switzerland. I luxurious down filled comforter bursting with lightweight down fibers paired with crisp cotton sheets on a perfect mattress. Certainly these Luxury Down Comforters deserve a high quality White Duvet Cover.

At American Blanket Company we have received numerous requests for a Duvet Cover that our customers can pair with our Oversized Down Comforters/Duvets. We have taken these requests and have created a perfect White Duvet Cover. Not only is this Duvet Cover soft, smooth and luxurious but it is made with the thought of simplifying your life.

100% USA grown cotton, carded, combed and then ring spun to perfection. This American Grown cotton will stay soft wash after wash. Our Easy On-Easy Off construction ensures the bed making process is simplifying your life. Why use 15 buttons or a harsh zipper on the bottom of the Duvet Cover. The buttons can be painful on your tender fingers and the zippers can scratch your feet in the night and disturb your sleep.

Our large gusset opening and Easy on-Easy Off construction helps get you on with your day without the hassle of getting all tangle up in the buttons and zipper. The 4 corner tie downs sewn in for durability will keep your Duvet and Duvet Cover snuggled up tight night after night.

Enjoy this Easy On-Easy Off Luxury White Duvet Cover at night and simplify your day in the morning. Have a better nights sleep and take more time enjoying your first cup of coffee.

Shop Duvet Covers

#duvet #duvet cover #comforters #Best Down Comforters #white duvet cover #comforter cover

0 notes

suugarbabe · 2 months ago

Text

Origin Stories

(part 2)

summary: baby first year matty arrives at hogwarts and the first person he interacts with seems to not know him at all. matty is unsure how to feel when someone treats him like just another person instead of the dark lords son

warnings: fluff, angst, baby matty, draco being an asshole even at 11

an: thank you @musingsofahufflepuff for reviewing and editing with me. lysm <3

Sleep did not come in the form of rest for Mattheo that night. Every time he closed his eyes he saw your face twisted in disgust, a variation of the same sentence leaving your mouth, “They told me the truth about you. You’re going to be just like your father. Nothing but a murderer. Don’t ever talk to me again Mattheo.” He woke up in a sheen of sweat, panting and trying to catch his breath.

Each intake of air felt like his lungs were shrinking; he grasped at his sleep shirt trying to feel if his heart was truly beating as quickly as it felt in his throat. The clock on his bedside table read 3:45am. Throwing back his duvet he slipped on his house loafers, glad that Feindre convinced him to take them to school. He made his way from his dorm and across the metal bridge that led to the common room.

He looked around the expansive common room, deciding on a lounge chair in front of the fire. Mattheo curled in on himself, sitting sideways in the chair and pulling his knees up. He laid his head against the back of the chair, doing his best to breathe deeply and focus on the crackling of the fire. What finally let him fall asleep was thinking about the train ride with you.

A shaking of his shoulders jolted him awake, “Andiamo, amico.” (C’mon, mate) He snapped his head up, seeing Theo Nott and Enzo Berkshire standing behind the chair. Enzo wore a toothy grin, his ears slightly peeking out from his hair; Theo almost looked concerned. Mattheo pulled the blanket tighter to his chin, though he didn’t remember having it when he fell asleep.

Theo must’ve seen his confused look, speaking up again, “I noticed you weren’t in bed when I woke up to use the bathroom last night so I brought you down your covers.” Enzo nodded like he was involved with the interaction, “You should probably go get dressed, we’re going to go to breakfast and then explore the castle to see where our lessons are.”

Mattheo still didn’t speak, instead looking briefly between the two boys. “We’ll wait for you compagno,” Theo sat down on the sofa next to Mattheo’s chair. Enzo nodded enthusiastically, following suit and sitting beside the taller boy. Mattheo silently gathered his blanket, making his way to his dorm.

He threw his blanket back on his bed before heading to his trunk, digging for a pair of trousers and casual shirt. Students had two free days to roam the castle and the grounds before classes were to begin and Mattheo decided he was going to take full advantage of not having to wear a uniform.

The door to the bathroom opened, Draco walking out and fixing his dress shirt in his trousers. He glanced at Mattheo as he pulled the t-shirt over his head, running both hands through his curls to fluff them slightly. Mattheo could hear the sneer in Draco’s tone as he spoke, “Is that what you’re wearing?”

Mattheo didn’t even give him a glance, “Do you have a problem with what I’m wearing, cousin?” Draco let out an annoyed sigh, “Auntie Bella would kill you if she saw you in that.” Mattheo grabbed his wand from his night stand, grip knuckle white but avoiding actually pointing it at his family member, “Well my mother isn’t here, is she.”

Draco rolled his eyes, “Whatever, let’s just go to breakfast. Theo and Enzo are already there.” Mattheo didn’t bother to tell him they were waiting downstairs. He personally wasn’t sure if they were doing it to be nice or if they were just trying to stay on Mattheo’s good side.

It was hard for him to assess who was being genuine with him versus who was trying to placate him due to his “title”. He didn’t get that feeling with you.

Mattheo followed Draco toward the common room, Theo and Enzo still sitting on the sofa where Mattheo left them. “Thought you two were headed to breakfast,” Draco questioned the soon to be dynamic duo on the sofa. “Waitin’ for Matt,” Theo nodded briefly towards Mattheo who couldn’t explain why his cheeks were warming slightly. “Yeah, Blaisey boy is saving us a spot,” Enzo gave a boyish grin.

“You know he’d curse you if he heard you call him that,” Theo fixed the strings on his tracksuit as they started towards the great hall. Enzo shrugged his shoulders, “That’s what his mum called him on the platform. And he can’t curse me, he doesn’t know any yet.”

Mattheo never knew how to interact with the back and forth. Never quite felt comfortable with joking with the rest of the boys growing up because his mother always told him that they were not his friends, they were his future followers.

“Yeah but you’re not his mother, Enzo. And we all know a few curses, you know that. Our parents made sure of it,” Theo was giving a playful tone but his words held true. They all knew it.

Entering the large doorway to the hall Draco spotted Blaise first. The latter boy had chosen a spot in damn near the middle of the table and Mattheo felt his stomach knotting again. He knew people were already going to stare at him, but this table placement felt like he was on display.

He would’ve much rather eaten at the far end of the table, where no one would likely notice him. He’d rather eat in the kitchens with the elves. He follows the others anyway, sitting on the farthest end so there’s plenty of bench on his left. That’s something he learned very early; always know where your escape route is.

Mattheo was too busy pushing the food around on his plate to notice you approaching. Your touch on his arm as you went to sit down was the first alert of your presence and, again, he flinched away. “M’sorr-” he starts to apologize but you’ve already cut him off, “S’okay, Matty, it’s my fault. I forgot.”

You turn to the rest of the boys around him, “Morning! So exciting we get to explore the castle today isn’t it?” Mattheo isn’t sure if you’re ignoring it, or you just are too blissed out on magic thoughts to notice the rest of his group looking at you nearly dumbfounded. Everyone else at the table knew the rule: never touch Mattheo. Yet here you were, still unharmed at that.

Draco’s platinum brow was raised, glancing between you and Mattheo, “I mean this in the rudest way possible…who are you?” You hum in acknowledgement, “Of course, m’so sorry I did the same thing to Mattheo on the train,” rubbing your toast hands on your jeans before holding it out to Draco and introducing yourself, punctuating your name with another bright smile.

He stares at your hand before glancing towards Mattheo. Enzo grabbed your hand instead, shaking it enthusiastically, “Lorenzo Berkshire, but call me Enzo, and this is Theodore Nott and that’s Blaise Zabini.” He nodded to the two boys on his and Mattheo’s other side.

“Just Theo is fine,” Theo corrected, “Can I ask…what’s a badger like you doing wandering into the snake den. Didn’t you hear? We Slytherins are dangerous.” All of a sudden it feels like Mattheo’s body is not his own, like he’s shrinking smaller and smaller inside himself and what’s sitting next to you on the bench is just a shell.

The back of his neck starts to feel damp and it's reminiscent of when he hears his mother call his name from across the manor. He’s terrified. So fearful that you’ll see the people around him as cruel and immediately associate that with him without questions. Then he’s alone again.

“You know a badgers bite actually has a BFQ of 109,” your response to Theo’s quip is quick and easy, not a hint of defensiveness in your tone. It’s simply…informative. Your response clearly confused most of the others as well, sweet and naive Enzo the only one open enough to ask for clarification, “What the hell is a BFQ?”

Between sips of his pumpkin juice Blaise speaks for the first time since you sat down, “Bite force quotient.” Theo rolls his eyes, “Yeah, okay but what does that even mean?” You stab a sausage with your fork and set it on your plate, knife in hand as you begin to cut it into smaller pieces, “It means that a badger bite has enough force to crush bone like I’m cutting this sausage.”

You take a bite from your fork before dancing it around in the air as you spoke, “Mmm, guess I’m just saying to mind your tone because,” you took another bite, “yeah snakes are all in your face, hissing and what not, venom blah blah…but badgers are unassuming. People see them as dumb little furry rodents so no one is quite ready when they BAM!” You stabbed a piece of cut sausage with enough force to rattle your plate and cause all the boys, including Mattheo, to flinch, “they come in for the kill.”

“Anyway, heard we’re going to actually get to learn how to fly?!” You continued with your meal like nothing was the matter, “Personally I’m quite chuffed about it, you lot already know how I’m assuming?”

Enzo laughed nervously, scratching lightly at the base of his neck, “Yeah we kinda all already know how mostly. But ehm, where’d, erm, where’d you learn that badger thing? You read a lot?” You shrugged, continuing to eat as normal, “I mean, I do like to read. But I did a project on badgers in primary, ironic huh?” You went to nudge Mattheo with your elbow before stopping halfway, seemingly remembering his issue.

His stomach dropped, fearing you’d never want to get close to him again. Theo spoke up, clearly still confused, “Is no one going to explain primary to us now?” Blaised sighed, though eleven he seemed to have the patience for his peers as that of a seventh year, “It’s muggle school, they start young, like six or seven years old.”

“Muggle school?” Draco looks at you like you’re covered in filth and his voice is like nails on a chalkboard to Mattheo, “Cousin…you let a muggle sit with you on the train? With us here? At breakfast?”

There it was again, that sinking, shell like feeling, only now any emptiness was being filled with anger. Without Mattheo’s help you were quick to quip back, “Technically my parents are muggles, I got my letter the same way all of you did. That’s why I’m sitting here.”

Your obliviousness to the wizarding world and what each of their families and their titles held around you made you unlike any person Mattheo had ever met. He wasn’t quite sure yet if that made him scared or enamored.

“Watch out for the badger bite, Malfoy,” Theo teased the blond and everyone laughs. Mattheo laughs too, glancing in his peripheral to see your smile reaching your eyes and that his cousins words haven’t offended or have you wanting to run.

You take a sip of your pumpkin juice before wiping your lips with your napkin and starting to stand up. There it is, Mattheo thought, finally running. “You ready, Matty?” you’re fully standing now, hand across your middle holding your other arm. “W-what?” it was the first Mattheo had spoken since his interrupted apology.

“To see where our lessons are going to be? We should have most of them together I would assume, unless they separate the houses for most classes, but surely not right?” Mattheo stood up quickly, his heart dropping to his stomach and he scrambled to take out the course list that he had haphazardly shoved in his jeans pocket.

He smoothed it out on the table before holding it up next to yours, “Oh see, no worries then, we’ve got most of them together.” Theo asked to see your list, comparing it to his, Enzo’s and Blaise’s. You all had a mix of courses together, you and Mattheo seeming to have the most in similarity.

You asked the other’s to join you both in your exploration. Theo and Enzo agreed, Blaise said he was going to find the library. Draco said he would “find things on his own”, stalking off ahead of the rest of you, keeping a pace that would ensure he was no where near the rest of you.

“Is he always like that?” You were asking Mattheo, but Enzo answered, “Don’t worry about him, it’s not you. Well, erm…it might be you. But Malfoy doesn’t seem to like anyone really.”

Mattheo huffed a non-committal laugh, “Yeah, including himself.” The other two Slytherins laughed in agreement. You simply looked concerned, “I wonder where that comes from.”

You’re too kind for your own good, Mattheo thought to himself. Per usual, Enzo is eager to answer, “Oh his father is a nightmare. Real piece of work.” Theo snorted, “He’s not the only one, aye boys. Kind of a requirement with our group.”

Enzo barked out a laugh, Mattheo gave a half-hearted grunt. He glanced over at you, trying to gauge your thoughts. You were the hardest person he’s ever tried to read. Your face just held the same look, slight concern and something else Mattheo couldn’t quite put his finger on, but he hoped to Merlin it wasn’t pity.

All of the lessons seemed easy enough to find. Whether that was due to magic or not Mattheo wasn’t sure and he never truly had the desire or care to find out. Mattheo was just glad you were in nearly all of his courses.

The only ones the two of you didn’t share were potions and herbology. For some terribly bloody reason potions were split by houses, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs together and Gryffindors with Slytherins. Mattheo was going to Avada himself if he had to hear his cousin and his idiot lap dogs try to get a rise out of Potter and his ginger friend all term.

Enzo somehow lucked out and got Herbology with you, whereas Mattheo was stuck with Theo and the others. Mattheo couldn’t help the jealousy that seemed to creep into his stomach each time you complimented something Enzo did during that lesson.

Even though you sat by him in every class, Mattheo craved your presence. He wasn’t able to describe exactly why he craved it, though. Maybe it was because you were kind. Or maybe because you were so smart and able to pick up on things easier than everyone else. Or maybe it was because you were the only person who didn’t give a rats ass who his father was.

The conversation, or more so argument, he overheard last week, confirmed it. He was going to meet you in one of the empty classrooms to work on transfiguration spells. For someone with founder’s blood in his veins he couldn’t transform a goblet to save his life.

“Why do you hang around him?” Mattheo heard someone ask, a Ravenclaw who he was pretty sure sat behind the two of you in charms. “Because he’s my friend?” Mattheo stopped in his tracks at the sound of your voice, clearly laced with a bit of annoyance he’s never heard from you before.

“But you know who his father is, don’t you? Haven’t you heard what he’s done?” The Ravenclaw girl was getting on Mattheo’s last nerve. He was ready to turn that corner, tell her to shut her prat mouth when you started speaking again.

“Mattheo is not his father, gods, why does it feel like I’m repeating that to everyone these days. People need to stop trying to warn me about him and maybe try to actually get to know him. He’s a really nice boy. And very funny. You’re being kind of a bitch, Padma.”

Padma scoffed, clearly deciding to walk another way to wherever she was headed as you turned the corner alone, nearly running into Mattheo, “Oh, wow, sorry Matty.”

So people were talking to you about him. They were trying to convince you to stop hanging around him, not to be friends with him. But you’re not listening, his internal thoughts rang as a reminder.

Your hand moving back and forth in front of his face brought him back to the present, “Where’d you go? Was like you were looking into another realm, is that a thing here? Can you guys, er, can we do that?” Mattheo completely ignored your inquiry and instead answered your question with another question, “Did you just call someone a bitch?”

The bridge of your nose seemed to display a light shade of pink and Mattheo couldn’t recall ever seeing you flustered before, “They were being mean.” He couldn’t help himself, a desperate need deep inside had to see if you would admit it, “What were they being mean about that warranted that response?”

You started walking towards your shared destination, but Mattheo couldn’t let it die. “C’monn,” he dragged the word out slightly, “we tell each other everything.” And that was mostly true on Mattheo’s part. He wasn’t so sure talking about watching his mother use unforgiveables on guests was something you needed to know; or even something you’d understand.

“Ehm, it was you,” your voice was small, nearly a whisper that Mattheo didn’t catch. “What? What’d you say?” You huffed, stopping in front of the door to the classroom you were meant to practice in, “They were being mean about you, Mattheo. Okay? I know I shouldn’t have called her that but…ugh, I am so sick and tired of people trying to convince me that you’re a bad person.”

That last part came out in a huff of frustration as you opened the door and walked inside. Mattheo couldn’t move. He was stuck in the doorway. You turned when you couldn’t hear his footsteps following you, “Are we still practicing?”

“How many people have tried to convince you I’m a bad person?” He truly didn’t want to know the answer. Just asking the question made him feel like his insides were boiling. You shook your head slightly, “I dunno, Matty. I’m not exactly keeping track of every miserable git telling me my best friend is terrible.”

Mattheo started walking towards you now, “You think I’m your best friend?” He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, his stomach seemingly in his throat and he sort of felt like he might throw up. The sound of your laugh soothed all of that out.

“Well, yeah ya knob. Am I not yours? Don’t tell me you picked Nott over me.” Mattheo stammered for a moment, “Wha- ehm, Why did you…huh? Theo?” You laughed a little harder now, “You guys are close too, aren’t you?”

Mattheo’s head hurt a little, “I, uh, I mean…yeah I guess. But not like you and me. I mean…fucking Salazar.” Mattheo ran his hands through his curls, tugging at the sides slightly. You held your hand up as if to calm his stammering, “It’s okay, Matty. I know I’m your best friend too.”

He grinned at that, your reassurance. It still felt new every time you did it; he’s never gotten it as much as he has with you. “Ready to finally learn how to change a toad into a goblet?” You reached in your pocket and pulled out the amphibian. Mattheo grinned, nodding and setting up beside you.

The next several months seemed to fly by in lessons. Mattheo never realized how much practical magic he never really learned at home.

Feindre did all his washings and cooking, he lived in a manor that was centuries old and protected by magic so he never needed to know any repair or fixing spells, and the doors being locked or not were irrelevant as his mother just apparated to where he was if she were to punish him; she also never locked a door if she were torturing. “You need to see the weakness that leaks from those beneath us Mattheo.”

He shuddered at the thought. He was well aware of what was going to be expected of him. He was half sure his mother only let him attend Hogwarts as a means of gaining more respect and more followers. “You want them to fear you, you’re not looking for friends, you’re looking for followers.”

He didn’t like that either. Draco was a follower. Draco was afraid. He didn’t want that to be the only type of people around him.

For someone who didn’t know magic was real until five months ago, you were exceptional in all your classes. You were always trying to study, always trying to soak in more information.

The last day before Christmas holiday was no exception. You had asked Mattheo, Theo and Enzo if they wanted to start on course work for next term. They had all said no.

Well…Enzo had looked at you like you’d grown an extra head, whereas Theo and Mattheo declined politely. Mattheo would’ve have went with you in a heartbeat, but he hadn’t packed a single item in his trunk.

His original school of thought was that if he didn’t pack then he’d have to stay at school for the holidays. The thought of seeing his mother again made him short of breath from anxiety.

But Draco reminded him that the Malfoy Christmas ball was happening (as it did every year) and Mattheo actually loved his Aunt Cissy. She was the only person in his father’s circle that treated him like any other boy his age.

You didn’t mind going to the library alone. You often did when the Slytherins wanted to play quidditch. You were not quite as good at flying as they were yet, so you’d go to the library to make revisions instead.

The content for next term actually seemed exciting to you. But everything about Hogwarts excited you. In History of Magic next term you were going to learn about the origins of wizards sports, quidditch the primary subject.

I have to tell Mattheo, he’ll be so excited, was your only thought and you rushed out of the library, not quite paying attention to your surroundings as you crashed into someone; dropping your texts in the process.

You heard Draco’s scoff of disgust before you heard his annoying voice, “Out of my way mudblood.” You let out an annoyed huff, bending down to pick up your books from the floor.

“I don’t even know what that means, Malfoy. But I know you’re trying to insult me,” you held your books flush to your chest, “your insults don’t mean anything to me you know.”

Draco laughed out loud, taking a look at each one of his chubby minions beside him, “Do you want me to explain it to you?”

You adjusted the strap on your shoulder bag, “Not really but I’m sure you’re going to.” The malicious glint in Draco’s eye should’ve warned you of the delight he was about to get from this. You should’ve ignored him and walked away but there were three of them and only one of you.

“You’re a filthy, little, mudblood,” Draco emphasized each work with hatred and disgust, “Your blood is dirty, you come from nothing. Fucking Salazar, you are nothing. I honestly don’t get how the others are so blind to it.”

You opened your mouth to respond, make any kind of retort but Draco kept going, “I’m what you call pureblood. The blood that runs in my veins has centuries of magic in it and Mattheo is the same. Enzo, Theo, Blaise, all of our blood is pure. I don’t know what little spell you put on my cousin, but it’s going to fade.

“It may not be tomorrow, it may not even be a year from now, but he’s going to realize your worthlessness. Fuck and when he does…I want you to remember this moment. I want you to hear my voice in the back of that empty fucking head of yours telling you I told you so.”

The tears brimming your eyes were uncontrollable. You didn’t want to believe anything he was saying, you knew Mattheo didn’t think of you like that. But there was a small part of you that couldn’t help but agree.

“Don’t go running to cousin with your tears either, he’s the Dark Lord’s heir after all. He doesn’t need to deal with whiny babies.” Draco had to deliver one more blow for his satisfaction, him and his friends laughing in your face.

“You’re a prick, Malfoy. No wonder everyone can’t stand you,” you wiped your eyes with the heel of your palm as you pushed passed them.

You could still hear them laughing, mocking you all down the corridor until you turned the corner. You were supposed to meet up with Mattheo before dinner, but now you just wanted to be left alone.

♡♡♡

When you didn’t meet him at the common room entrance for dinner, Mattheo was a little worried. Theo tried to calm him down, telling him they were running late and you probably just went to the hall already.

But that made Mattheo more distraught, since houses don’t mix at dinner time. He was quieter than usual once they sat down, far more focus on searching the faces and backs of heads at the Hufflepuff table.

When he didn’t recognize any student to be you, he turned to the group, “You guys didn’t happen to see y/n on the way to dinner did you? I don’t see ‘em here.”

Enzo and Theo looked over at your house table, shaking their heads. Blaise looked a little guilty, “I wasn’t going to say anything…honestly Matt I thought maybe you had a fight or something.”

Mattheo turned towards him, “Say anything about what?” Blaise shrugged his shoulders, a slight apologetic look in his eyes, “I saw them crying earlier, I think they were going towards the astronomy tower.”

Instant panic spread over him, “Crying? Were they hurt? Could you tell?” Blaise shook his head. “Why do you even care?” Draco sounded annoyed, Mattheo got angry. “That's my friend, did you do something to them?”

Draco rolled his eyes, flipping Mattheo the bird, “Wouldn’t waste my breath on a mudblood.” Mattheo slammed him open palms on the table as he stood up from the bench.

Everyone in a ten foot radius was staring now. Draco looked terrified, rightfully so. While he only just learned reparo, Mattheo learned crucio at age 5 and he was pretty confident he could cast it on his cousin this very moment.

Instead, Mattheo stormed off, heading straight to where he hoped was the astronomy tower. After only two wrong turns he started up the mountain of stairs.

After only two flights he spotted you, curled in on yourself on one of the large steps with your back to the wall. Your face was hidden in your knees but the gold from the hood of your robes gave you away.

You were crying, muffled and trying to be silent but Mattheo recognized the posture. The shaking shoulders, the small sniffles. He’d done it a dozen times himself this last summer.

“There’s my badger…what’re you doing up here?” Mattheo’s voice was soft, gentle. It’s what he always hoped was used when he felt this way so he could only assume it’d be comforting to you too.

You lifted your head just enough to rest your chin on your knees, “I got tired,” you sniffed again, “too many stairs.”

Mattheo nodded, small smile on his face, “S’that why you’re crying and missed dinner? Too many stairs? Couldn’t get back down?”

You knew he was trying to make a joke, a weak smile was all you could manage before frowning once more, “Wasn’t the stairs…”

Mattheo moved to sit in front of you, barging into your eye line, “Then what was it?” Your face scrunched and you shook your head.

Mattheo placed his hands on your ankles, the action was so out of character for him, the physical touch. But it make you lock eyes nonetheless, “If I tell you, you have to just let it go.”

The tilt in his head was slight but you noticed it, “I mean it Matty.” Mattheo nodded, not speaking in hopes you’d continue.

“It was your cousin. He just…ugh,” you hid your face in your knees again, taking a deep shuttered breath. Mattheo gave your ankles a small squeeze as if to encourage you to keep explaining.

You turned your head to the side, not wanting to look Mattheo in the eyes when you said it, “He called me a…mudblood.”

Mattheo’s hands disappeared from your legs and it made you look at him. People had told you Mattheo could probably get angry. That his father was considered the darkest wizard of our time.

You never really saw any of that before, but you saw a glint of it in his eyes now, “Is that all he said?” You shook your head, sinking back into the wall slightly.

“I told him I didn’t know what that meant…then he told me I had dirty blood. Said his was pure. That all of you Slytherins had pure blood and that no matter how hard I tried…I would never amount to the same as you guys.”

Mattheo frowned. You had started crying again and he felt like someone had just punched a hole in his gut. “He’s wrong,” Mattheo was shaking his head, “Some of the biggest sodding cowards I’ve ever seen are from pureblood families.”

“Just made me feel really cruddy,” you snuffled, wiping your eyes with the sleeves of your robe. Mattheo could feel a fire kindling inside his chest, “I’ll kill him.”

You reached out, grabbing Mattheo’s forearm; he didn’t flinch away this time. “Don’t,” you pleaded, “you promised you wouldn’t do anything.”

Mattheo chewed on the inside of his cheek, “Well I have to do something..”

“Will you just sit with me for a little bit…please?” You pleaded, your hand was cool against his heated skin.

“Yeah, erm, I can do that.” So that’s what he did. Mattheo found solace on the step one above yours. He sat as you did, pulling his knees to his chest.

He sat with you until you felt better, calmer. Then he walked you to your common room, popping into the kitchens with you to grab a small bite since you both missed dinner.

When he got back to his own common room he grabbed his duvet from his dorm and then back to the communal space and picked the largest couch to lay on.

He couldn’t sleep in his dorm tonight. Draco was in there. And if he saw Draco, he knew he’d hurt him right now. And if there were two things Mattheo knew he would never do: (1) become his father, (2) break a promise to you.

#yes yes i promise there's more #don't worry you guys #little asshole draco gets his day in mattheo court #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle angst #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x gn!reader #slytherin boys #origin stories series

367 notes · View notes

manjjiros · 1 year ago

Text

TRICKED YOU!

ran haitani / rindou haitani / sanzu haruchiyo x gn!reader (separate)

cws: suggestive but fluffy, like actually kind of tooth rotting, little white lies, established relationship (ran), situationships (rindou, sanzu), discussions of drug usage (sanzu), bonten timeline, ask to tag

from the ASM: tricking the trio into getting some rest isn’t exactly easy. but the probability of getting it to work is not exactly zero, either.

over the loudspeaker: @sin-and-punishment

— RAN HAITANI.

“raaaan,” you whined into the receiver, rolling over in your sheets and letting them rustle against your phone.

you heard your poor boyfriend let out a breath on the other end of the line. “what’s the matter, angel? i’m a little tied up at the moment.”

you knew he was, obviously, or you wouldn’t be calling. you knew his schedule inside and out by now, when he had meetings, when he ran off on sudden jobs to handle important business you had no interest in knowing about.

it was always a little more fun to be able to pull him from some boring, dreadful meeting than when he was free to join you.

“come home,” you breathed, and you heard the way he hummed in the back of his throat.

“i can’t, come on. you know this. don’t make me feel bad.”

“but the bed’s cold, ran. aren’t you gonna come make it warm again?”

there was a brief pause and some speaking in the background. clearly he was in a meeting, which you had expected.

“warm up yourself, angel-“

“no, come home. i just want you.”

ran grunted into the phone, and you heard him pull the device from his ear and shout towards the voices in the background. it was muffled and broke up a bit; the reception in abandoned warehouses typically wasn’t the best.

“ran?”

“i’m here. just- stay put. ‘m coming. you gonna be good f’ me?”

“yeah.”

“fine. see you soon.” he hung up, and you smiled to yourself, successful in your endeavor.

you’d left the door open for him and left a set of sleep clothes at the edge of the bed for him. he hadn’t been sleeping, you knew that; the circles under his eyes and the way he forced himself out of bed in the mornings gave it away. something must have happened, or maybe something resurfaced — he hadn’t told you yet, but you could make an educated guess.

ran arrived at your place within the half hour, the heels of his slick shoes clicking along the floorboards as he made his way towards your room where you waited for him, cuddled up in your duvet with the lamp light casting everything in a warm yellow.

he nudged the door open with a huff, smiling briefly before pausing. “i have to admit, this isn’t what i was expecting.”

“what, don’t wanna just nap?”

“i thought you were calling for a hookup.”

“dirty mind! i never said that,” you giggled at his exasperated face before pulling back the covers to give him space. “come on, baby. you look exhausted. you’ve got bags under your eyes.”

“don’t say that shit, my eyes are fine.”

“because you steal my eye cream!” you pouted then, folding your arms at his pushback.

he grumbled at you but ultimately eyed up the empty space next to you in the bed, letting out a loud sigh.

“cant believe i left the meeting to come take a nap. what is this, high school? i used to do this shit as a kid. play hooky and sleep in weird places.” he yawned as he spoke, undressing his three-piece suit in exchange for the t-shirt and shorts you left out for him. you just nodded along and patted the space next to you for him to climb into.

he joined you, eventually, long limbs grabbing onto you to pull you in close and bury his face in your chest. you smiled as the scent of his cologne floated up around you, the smell of his hair gel right under your nose.

it felt like it was barely two minutes before your talkative boyfriend was knocked out against your chest, your fingers combing through his hair.

— RINDOU HAITANI.

to: annoying prick

me: come over.

annoying prick: how about a please?

me: come over Now. miss you.

annoying prick: i screenshotted that for evidence.

me: i hope you crash on your way here.

annoying prick: i didn’t say i was coming? smfh.

you rolled your eyes at your phone as you fussed with the string of his hoodie around your finger. rindou never listened when you invited him over, always giving you a hard time despite expecting you to bend to his will whenever he wanted to see you.

oftentimes things happened on his terms, not yours. which normally isn’t a problem, except for this one time when you wanted to fuck with him.

your finger hovered over the call button before you opted for another direction, opening up your camera and taking a quick photo of his hoodie string between your teeth, cute and suggestive and alluring. you made sure to get most of your upper body in the shot, laid back against your pillows.

me: [1 image]

me: come over? now?

annoying prick: is that my

annoying prick: cheap shot. stay there. don’t even think about touching.

you laughed at how quickly his tone changed, shaking your head at his ridiculousness. he was a grown man, sure, but he was rude and mean and often thought with his dick rather than his head.

you heard the revv of his bike engine before you saw it through his window, clicking your tongue when you spotted him without a helmet. you understood that he was some sort of criminal, but you kind of liked him, sort of, and didn’t actually want him to crash and die.

you watched him park the bike illegally in front of your place and hop off of it quickly, straightening out the front of his suit jacket as he walked up towards the door.

you heard him grumble when the door was locked, fucking around for the spare key before finally getting inside your home and beelining towards your room.

you broke into giggles as he shoved your door open and undid the front two buttons of his suit jacket, trying to clamber over your body on the bed. “tease, calling me home from bein’ busy just to fuck around, what are you-“

“aht,” you stopped him with a finger to his chest, shaking your head, “not what i invited you here for.”

he stared back at you, hesitating and hovering over your form. “excuse me?”

you chose that exact moment to whip out the puppy eyes, jutting out your bottom lip and laying back on your pillows, “my bed was cold, rin! just wanted you to come over and take a nap with me.”

he gawked at you before sitting up on his knees and running a hand through his hair. “are you being fucking serious?”

“yes.”

“you invited me over. to nap?”

“mhm. and now you’re here. so let’s take one.”

“what the-“

“please?” you cocked your head and tried the puppy eyes again, to which he made a face, but didn’t necessarily move away.

“i don’t have-“

“you leave clothes here all the time. i have some set out in the bathroom.”

“fuck you.”

“maybe next time.” you broke into laughter as he succumbed to his fate, getting out of your bed to disappear down the hall into your bathroom. he returned within five minutes, having changed into a pair of pajama pants and forgetting his shirt, standing at the side of your bed awkwardly.

“well? come in, i’m exhausted.”

“this is weird.”

“no it’s not. just lay down, asshole.” you huffed and pulled back the covers for him. he squinted at you, having taken his contacts out, before reluctantly crawling into the bed next to you. you snuggled up against his side, to which he tensed, but ultimately ended up wrapping an arm around you anyway.

he fell asleep before you did, mouth open and drooling all over your pillow. you took a photo, not because you liked him or anything… well…

— SANZU HARUCHIYO.

convincing sanzu to listen to you at all was like trying to train a poodle. it was very, very difficult because he was very, very defiant.

you knew he hadn’t been sleeping well. you knew it well, unfortunately; his work was catching up to him and drugs weren’t your favorite solution to the problem.

you told him time and time again that he needed rest, that it was because you cared that you were nagging at him, and yet he always bit right back at you like a dog nipping its owner’s hand.

you had had enough. so you decided to play the game.

you sat in his car waiting for him to finish some job in some remote part of the red light district, in a back alley with no prying eyes or lights, really.

you sat in wait until finally sanzu reappeared in the faded yellow light of the nearest street lamp, wiping his hands on a handkerchief and kicking a lead pipe against the wall. you chose not to question his line of work.

he grinned when he saw you in the passenger’s seat, as if he had forgotten you were there, and hurried around to the driver’s seat to get in and lean into your space.

“all done now, baby.” he pressed kisses to the corners of your lips, making you giggle before he caught your mouth with his own.

you hummed against his lips, lifting a hand to curl your fingers around his tie. “haru,” you breathed, tugging lightly on the fabric, “can we please get home? wanna get into bed with you…”

he pulled back slightly to meet your gaze with his own crazed one, eyes studying you almost clinically as a grin spread across his face. “oh yeah? baby wants to get home?”

“mhm.”

“hell yeah, i’ll get you fuckin’ home.” he pulled back from you to start the car, and you gripped the oh-shit handle because you knew he was just going to peel out of the alleyway.

and that he did, whipping down side streets and revving the engine, one hand on the wheel and the other gripping your thigh.

you giggled to yourself as you watched the veins in his arm, shaking your head. he just had no idea how easy he was to fool.

it took far shorter of a time than it should have to get back to your place, and he parked before hurrying out of the car and getting the passenger door for you.

you got out and led him to the door, feeling him stalk your every movement, only ever one step behind you. you unlocked your door and kicked your shoes off with a laugh as he tried to pin you against the nearest wall, freeing yourself from his grasp and making your way towards your room.

he grunted as he followed you, muttering something about you being a tease.

you turned on your heel once you got to your room and took a seat on the bed. “much better. i’m so tired, haru.”

“huh?”

“let’s just go to bed, how about it?” you started to get undressed as he stood in your doorway, scarred lips twitching with confusion.

“what are you talking about?”

“haru, let’s go to bed. i know you’re tired too.”

“no, this is-“

“no buts.” you stood to shimmy out of the rest of your clothing and tug your pajamas on. “strip and cuddle with me.”

haru wasn’t a cuddler, not by a long shot. but, with you…

he felt like he blinked, and suddenly he was on his back in your bed with you at his side in the dark. you snuggled up closer to him and ran your fingers through his hair.

soon enough, his breathing evened out, and you smiled to yourself as his grip on you grew tighter in his sleep.

#ran haitani x reader #rindou haitani x reader #sanzu haruchiyo x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokrev x reader #tr x reader #♧ — ran haitani #♧ — rindou haitani #♧ — sanzu

1K notes · View notes

msnmnt · 2 months ago

Text

Whispers Of Regret

Notes: this is my first time attempting to write angst, I hope it’s okay. Mason is a little bit of an arse 🫣 but all ends well, I promise 🥰 Feedback is welcomed as always 🤍

You ran your hands through your hair, sighing at the way your curls already fell flat. You slipped your shoes on before tugging down at the bottom of your simple black dress, internally criticising everything you saw in the reflection that mirrored back at you. It was your trusty go-to outfit that cinched you in at all the right places and cut off high enough to show off your legs, but not even that could make you feel good about yourself tonight.

You had practically ransacked your wardrobe and your hair that you had spent so long curling had taken the brunt of your many outfit changes, having flattened due to you pulling on and off an endless amount of dresses. Three different shades of lipstick had been applied and wiped off, and when the clapse of your favourite necklace broke in your hand, you wanted nothing more than to just get into your pyjamas and head to bed.

But you couldn't. You had promised Mason you would join him for Ashley’s birthday, one of the trainers at the club who Mason had became friendly with recently. You didn’t want to let him down so with that in mind, you took a deep breath and tried your best to compose yourself.

It had been a rubbish day at uni. Hell, it had been a rubbish week. You had lost track of how many assignments you had started and were yet to complete, you seemed to have more classes than ever and before you were feeling mega stressed about it all.

And to top it off, you had came home to find your boyfriend in an even worse mood than you.

You sympathised with him, of course. The past few weeks Mason had spent more time at the training ground than he had at home in an attempt to get his fitness back up, and he was very obviously shattered. You hadn't seem him much during the whole week, so when you came home to find his car in the driveway you were looking forward to a good cuddle before you had to head out. For him to ask how your day had been. Maybe even a little kiss for the first time that week. Anything.

But when he had uttered the quietest "Hi" when you walked into your longue, making no attempt to even look up at you, you knew he was in another one of his moods.

The pair of you had got ready in silence, tension thick in the air. You tried to put on a fake smile, attempting to look on the bright side. If Mason was going to be in a foul mood at least you could spend the evening with your girls. You had become close with Ashley’s girlfriend, Daisy, and you were looking forward to meeting some of her friends and hopefully being able to drink your crap week away.

You headed out of your en-suite and into the bedroom to find Mason led on your shared bed, tapping away on his phone, clearly engrossed with something that was far more exciting than you. He was dressed nicely in his jeans, a smart top and a big oversized shirt jacket, but his trainers on the crisp white duvet cover that you had only changed last night made you roll your eyes.

Right on queue, Mason finally pried his gaze away from his phone to catch you looking unamused at him. Even after being together for years, Mason’s compliments were always sure to give you a little boost, no matter how rubbish you felt. You had a tiny bit of hope that he might compliment you, but your heart twinged when he looked back down to his phone as it pinged.

“Think you could drop the attitude at some point this evening?”

Your heart sunk to your tummy at his words and a lump formed in your throat. Your eyes stung as you tried to fight back the tears that were threatening to spill, blinking them away.

“What?” You asked, voice small and quiet, asking him to repeat himself to make sure you had heard him right.

You hadn't been strangers to a few arguments over the years; just usual bickering between couples. But the worst Mason normally did was give you the silent treatment, short and blunt replies, taking himself to your home gym to let out some stress.

He had never spoken to you like that before.

“I said, are you going to drop the attitude? I don’t appreciate it and I certainly don’t think my friends are going to enjoy you scowling at them like you’ve been doing to me for the past hour.”

You were in complete disbelief at the words that left his mouth, and even more so the way he seemed so unphased by it. He locked his phone and got up off the bed, heading to leave the room.

You just stood there still in shook and Mason turned around to look back at you.

“Well? Are you just going to stand there or are you coming?” He checked his watch, mumbling under his breath. “You’ve already made me late, as usual.”

You wanted to give him attitude back. You wanted to tell him where to shove it. But you didn’t have the energy to argue any more, so instead you just followed him over to the door as you headed out of your house without saying another word to each other.

You hadn’t seen Mason since the moment you arrived at the club. He had wandered off as soon as he saw some of the boys, and luckily the girls had came over to you, not even having a chance to pick up on the tension between the two of you before a drink was in your hand.

The earlier events stayed in the back of your head, but you actually managed to let your hair down a little, enjoying yourself as you got to know Daisy's girlfriends before gladly joining them all on the dancefloor and momentarily forgetting about your troubles.

"Do you want another drink, y/n?" Daisy asked and you looked down to your glass that you hadn't even noticed was empty.

"That's okay, I'll get these!" You shouted over the music, taking the pair of your empty glasses to the bar before ordering another round of drinks.

The barman took your order and was fixing your drinks up when out the corner of your eye you saw Mason strolling up to the bar. You turned your body to the side slightly, as if that may prevent him from realising it was you.

No luck, you jumped back around when Mason clanged his empty bottle down onto the bar.

“Are you going to ignore me all evening?”

You finally faced Mason, but he was just looking straight ahead, not interested in paying you too much attention.

“I could say the same to you.” You replied, making Mason scoff.

“You couldn’t wait to get away from me as soon as you got here.”

“Could you blame me?!” You huffed. “You didn’t even tell me I looked nice tonight."

You practically heard him roll his eyes and he shook his head. “I tell you how beautiful you look all the time, y/n.”

“I’ve been lucky if I’ve got a hello off you this week, Mason!” You exclaimed over the booming of the music, completely snapping now. “I know things are tough for you at the moment but I’ve not exactly had the best week either.” You tried to level with him, but he just shook his head.

“It’s not quite the same though, is it?” He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, not meaning for them to come out how they did.

“Of course. My menial life and my pathetic problems are far too normal to ever compare to yours, right?” You asked sarcastically.

“Y/n, you know that’s not what I meant and if you’re going to twist my words-“

“I’m not twisting anything!”

“Look, forget it. Just go back to scowling me from across the dance floor and ranting to the girls about what a horrible boyfriend I am."

You stood there totally gobsmacked as Mason walked away, not even bothering to wait for his drink.

The girls had gone for a rest from dancing and had gathered together in a booth. You tried your best to slip yourself in without causing a fuss, but Daisy noticed there was something wrong straight away.

"Hun, are you alright?" She said hushed, not wanting to draw attention to you.

You gave her a smile but she could tell from how it didn't quite meet your eyes that something was up.

"Where's our drinks?" She questioned, not really concerned about the whereabouts of her drink but rather what had happened to clearly upset you.

You were no longer in the mood to party or even let off any steam. You were exhausted from your shit week and arguing with your boyfriend, so much so you just wanted to go home, curl up in bed and be on your own.

“I’m actually not feeling too good - I think I’m just a little run down from uni.” You tried to cover up the best you could when you noticed the other girls all listening in.

“Yeah, you sound a bit sniffly, babe.” Eva, one of Daisy's friends replied and you gave her a sympathetic smile, pleased to have played it off.

“I think I’m just going to head home.”

“You can’t go on your own at this time. I’ll come with you.” Daisy interrupted.

You shook your head. “No, I don’t want to ruin your evening.” You smiled, trying to make the girls not feel bad. “I’ll be safe, I’ll call Mason’s driver to come pick me up.”

After double and triple checking you were sure you’d be okay on your own, the girls waited till you had got in the car that they recognised before they headed back into the club, and you headed on your way home.

You sighed to yourself as you entered your house, your heels clipping against the wooden floor as you turned the heating on, cursing yourself for not having left it on before you went out.

You took your time getting unready, using your expensive cleansers and creams that you saved for best to try and give yourself a bit of a pamper to make yourself feel better.

After stripping off your dress, you changed into some pyjama bottoms before you begrudgingly slipped on one of Mason’s hoodies, opting for warmth.

Feeling marginally better, you hummed to yourself as you headed back downstairs, deciding to fill your hot water bottle up to have with you in bed to help you stay warm. You doubted Mason would be back anytime soon, anyway.

Once the kettle was boiled, you unscrewed the cap and begun to pour the hot water in. What you weren’t expecting was for the front door to slam, creating an almighty thud and causing you to jump, the hot water spilling straight from the kettle and onto the skin of your hand.

You yelped, dropping the kettle as the sting became more and more intense.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You yelped, knocking the cold tap on and quickly sticking your hand under it.

As the burning sensation took over, you couldn’t hold yourself together anymore, bursting into tears as you struggled to hold yourself up at the sink, the burn causing jolts of pain to shoot up your hand.

Unbeknownst to you, Mason had came storming through the hallway, checking in the living room where there was no sign of you. He heard the water running so he headed into the kitchen, his brows furrowing at the noise he could hear till he could make out it was you crying.

He rushed to find you, practically running into the kitchen where he saw you stood there, tears streaming down your face as you sobbed your heart out, the cold tap still pouring water as it cascaded all down your hand which was now red.

“Baby, shit, what’s happened?” Mason rushed over, stopping infront of you to try and release what had happened before he touched you.

“B-burnt my h-hand.” You managed to mumble out between sobs, finally letting yourself go as you full on sobbed, feeling majorly sorry for yourself.

Mason’s gaze turned to your hand, guiltily swallowing as he spotted your blistering skin. His tummy flipped as he spotted the fluffy hot water bottle that he had bought you at Christmas on the worktop.

“Oh, y/n. Oh, baby.” He cooed. “Are you unwell?”

You shook your head. “I was just c-cold and I assumed you wouldn’t be coming home anytime soon.”

Mason felt physically sick at the thought of you being upset and in your big king sized bed all by yourself, just your hot water bottle to keep you warm. The fact you were wrapped up in his hoodie only made him feel worse.

You pulled your hand away from the water, wincing in pain as you attempted to wriggle your fingers.

“Hey, you need to keep it under here for a bit longer.” Mason’s voice was low and stern, his hand gently wrapping around your wrist and slowly guiding yours back under the tap. You groaned in pain as the freezing water hit your skin once more, sobbing as you reluctantly kept it there. Mason’s thumb gently stroked over your wrist as he held your hand in place. Once he was convinced you weren’t going to move your hand he let go, his brown eyes now soft as they took in how much of a mess you were. His demeanour was a stark difference to how it had been earlier, his shoulders relaxed, his eyebrows knitted together slightly and his bottom lip sticking out slightly at seeing his baby in pain.

“I’m so sorry, y/n.”

You sniffled, attempting to stop crying. “It’s not your fault I’m clumsy.” Technically it was his fault for slamming the door, but he wasn’t to know and you couldn’t bear to bicker with him anymore.

“Was it from me slamming the door?” Mason asked, guilt settling in. “Did I scare you?”

“No.” You lied, finally facing Mason and the look on his face told you he knew you were lying. “It just scared me a bit, okay? Made me jump.”

“Oh, darling.” Mason ran his hand through his hair. “I’m so sorry, I’ve been such a dick…”

“It’s fine, Mase.” You replied, not having the energy to fight any more.

“It’s not fine, it’s not fine at all, y/n. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, I shouldn’t have spoke to you how I did. It’s not fair and I’m so, so sorry, baby.”

You offered him a small smile, briefly taking your hand away from the water to try and straighten it out from how stiff it had got in the cold, before putting it back under when Mason gave you a stern look.

“I haven’t exactly been in a good mood either.” You offered to try to in attempt to make him feel a little better but he just shook his head.

“That doesn’t matter. You’re my princess and I should be treating you like it.” His honey eyes started welling up with water as he thought about how he had spoken to you earlier. “I'm so fucking sorry, baby. I've been the worst boyfriend in the world recently and I’ll make it up to you, angel. I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” You tried to joke, relieving some of the tension.

Once Mason was satisfied that you had left the burn under the water for long enough (and you could no longer feel your fingers from how cold the water was), he helped you carefully dab your hand dry before scooping you up in his arms, making you squeal in surprise.

"Mason!” You giggled as he carefully moved your arms to look around his neck, forcing you to look up at him. His face was full of worry still and you could tell how awful he felt. "What're you doing?"

"I told you, treating you like a princess." He begun to head up to your bedroom, effortlessly carrying you in his arms. "And I don't think princesses should have to walk, should they?"

You couldn't help by grin as Mason carried you to your bed, carefully placing you down onto your kingsize bed and pulling back the covers.

You settled yourself down into bed, attempting to get comfy. "Do princesses deserve food bought to them in bed?"

You felt relieved when you finally saw Mason not looking so tense anymore, allowing himself to chuckle. "You really are going to milk this for all it's worth aren't you?"

"Uh hmm." You smirked. "I think I would like… a cheeseburger."

Mason raised his eyebrows as if to ask if you were serious, but when you begun to pout, he soon got his phone out.

"Cheeseburger will be on its way soon." He said and you giggled contently watching him tap away on his phone, trying to find somewhere to deliver to you at such a late hour.

True to his word, it wasn’t long before Mason was coming back up the stairs with a brown bag full of greasy food.

The pair of you ate and Mason wouldn't stop apologising no matter how many times you told him to stop.

When he noticed you yawning, he pulled the duvet back and you repositioned yourselves to get comfy. Mason had slipped his clothes off so he was left in just his boxers, and when he patted his bare chest you couldn't resist as you tucked your body into his side and snuggled up into him.

"I'm glad you came home, you're much warmer than my hot water bottle." You cuddled even closer to him, your nose grazing up against his chest hair.

Mason's heart broke at the thought of you thinking he wouldn't come home to you. No matter how bad an argument you had, he would never let you go to bed without making up, and he was upset you thought otherwise.

You hear him sniffle and he moved one of his arms from holding your body, and you were completely taken aback when you saw him quickly wiping away a tear.

"Mase what's wrong?" You attempted to sit up but Mason just shook his head and returned his arms to their position, holding you even tighter to him.

"I know I keep saying it but I really am so fucking sorry, y/n." His voice was torn as he whispered out yet another apology.

"I know, Mase. I know." You replied. "I'm sorry too, but we're okay now, yeah?" You tried to comfort him but you could tell he was still beating himself up about it all.

"You actually thought I wasn't going to come home?" He asked, his voice quiet and full of vulnerability.

"Well... yeah." You mumbled out, unsure if it was the right thing to say. "I thought you might've stayed at Ashley's or something."

"God I really have behaved like an asshole." Mason cursed to himself, so you held his face in your hands, his big glossy eyes looking into yours.

"Listen to me, Mase. I know you didn't mean it, couples argue babe, we're fine now." You offered him a smile, attempting to comfort him.

"I never want to lose you, y/n." Mason said, emotion thick in his voice.

"And you won't." You told him sincerely. "Let's just agree to talk more, okay? No more giving each other silent treatment and making snide comments, not talking about our emotions. Just being more open and honest, okay?" You raised your pinky and he managed to smile as he looped his with yours.

"Promise."

"Anyway, I’m wuite looking forward to breakfast in bed in the morning." You tried to break the tension with your cheeky comment.

"Who's bringing you that then, darling?" Mason asked pretending to have no clue.

"My wonderful boyfriend who was persistent he was going to make up being a dickhead to me." You replied, trying to make light of the situation.

"Anything for you, my princess."

#mason mount #mason mount x you #mason mount x reader #mason mount fluff #mason mount angst #mason mount fanfiction #mason mount blurb #mason mount fanfic #mason mount imagine

223 notes · View notes