#how are we feeling about these two. how are we feeling | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

itneverendshere · 2 days ago

Text

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - SIXTEEN

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: angst; mentions of abortion; grief; mental and physical health issues;

Your last coversation with Rafe had been a week and a half ago.

It didn’t ruin you, nor did it magically fix you, but at least it didn’t leave you sobbing. That was progress.

In that time frame, you had three doctor appointments. Two for the anemia, which still left you weak even when the sun was out. And one for the baby.

Rafe offered to come; it mattered to him. But you didn’t let him yet.

You were okay with him or, at least, okay enough to look at him and not feel like screaming and “okay” didn’t mean ready. Letting him into that room—to hear the heartbeat, see the tiny body growing inside you—would be handing him access to the part of you that was still so new it trembled, the part that was what was hurting most.

The morning after your conversation, your phone buzzed earlier than it should.

You squinted at the screen.

Sarah <3 Calling...

You slide the answer button with a groggy sigh. “Hi?”

“Okay, don’t think I’m crazy,” she said immediately, “but… did something happen last night?”

Like clockwork, your brain started coming up with excuses. Say you went to bed early, you didn’t see him.

Your stomach dipped. “Uh… what do you mean?”

She huffed, “I called Rafe an hour ago. Wanted to make sure he was okay, y’know? I drove him home. But this morning, I checked in again. He picked up, and—he sounded different.”

You remained silent. Different how? You wanted to ask. But you already knew.

“Calm! Genuinely okay for the first time in months,” she emphasizes. “Which is rare for him lately. And the only time he ever sounded like that was when you two were—”

You chewed the inside of your cheek, weighing your options. You could lie, keep this between you and Rafe for a while longer, say maybe therapy was finally kicking in, or he got a good night’s sleep, or anything else.

“He came over last night.”

“…Oh.”

You stared at a spot on your ceiling, the memory of Rafe's voice spinning in your head. “We talked.”

“You talked?” Sarah repeats. You could practically hear the raised eyebrow. “Talked? Or did you throw something at his head?”

You let out a tired laugh, the first one of the morning. “No. Talked.”

“Okay. Wow. I mean… I’m happy. You two needed that.”

“Yeah.”

“And? Did you… tell him?”

You hesitated, letting your eyes drift shut.

“I told him everything, Sarah.”

“Wait. Everything, as in... everything everything?”

“…Yeah.”

“Everything?” She still wasn’t sure she heard you right the first time.

Your throat tightened. “Yeah.”

“Holy shit."

You had watched the blood drain from Rafe’s face the second you told him about how far it had gone, how sick you’ve been the entire time. You remembered his hands; they’d gone still, then started to shake.

You weren’t mad at him then, not how you used to be. You were tired of being the one who knew what it felt like to wake up in a body that could betray you at any moment.

Sarah’s voice cut back in: “And how do you feel now?”

You blinked back into the present.

“I don’t know. I think it broke him a little.”

“Good,” Sarah muttered, not meaning to be cruel, just matter-of-fact. “He should break a little.”

“I didn’t feel like I wanted to hurt him either.”

“That’s something,” Sarah said gently.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “It’s something.”

You sat up against the pillows, the room dim with morning light.

“He offered to come with me to the appointments. I said no, but he still offered. That’s new.”

“Do you wish you had said yes?”

You thought about it.

“No. I think I need to be in that room alone for a while.”

“You did something really brave."

You didn’t feel brave, though; you felt like someone standing on an isolated road with no map, with a body that hurt in ways it shouldn’t. A baby that might or might not make it and a man you used to love still orbiting you like a planet you couldn’t land on safely.

Sarah was quiet for a second, then said, “Are you gonna talk to Topper?”

You sucked in a breath through your nose, not surprised she brought him up. You swore she and Rafe were more alike than what they let on.

“I don’t know.”

It wasn’t a lie. You had thought about it, more than once, since Rafe mentioned it. You debated texting Topper, calling, and asking if he still kept that dumb contact name in his phone for you.

He had stopped being just a cousin when you lost your family, turning into your almost-brother.

But you've been so angry, in pieces. Letting yourself feel that anger had been necessary, you didn’t want to fake forgiveness before it was real; you had to be able to look him in the eye without flinching at the memory of what he’d done.

The bitterness in your chest had started to quiet after a while, not gone, but calm enough to think clearly.

After talking to Rafe, who’d torn your heart in such evil, deeper ways, you’d swallowed your pride, bitterness, and pain for the sake of peace. Your peace of mind, that is, not his.

You needed closure more than you craved revenge nowadays. Acting civil, even with someone who broke you, was a step toward healing yourself.

How could you give that grace to Rafe and not to Topper? Your cousin who hurt you, yes—but less. If you could offer space and civility to the boy who shattered your trust, you could extend honesty and an open door to the one who merely cracked it.

“I don’t know how to look at him. I don’t know if I’ll yell or cry.”

Sarah was quiet again.

You smacked your forehead. “It’s stupid. I forgave the guy who ruined my idea of love, but I’m still bitter at the one who flaked on family.”

“It’s not stupid,” she said. “You expected more from him.”

“I’ll talk to him eventually.”

Sarah didn’t push. “Okay.”

You texted Rafe five days later in the afternoon, not particularly eager to ask him for a favor, but alas. The conversation had to happen somewhere private. Your house, not a public scene. God forbid it happened in public again, where some kook could overhear—or worse, Ruthie.

You knew she was still lurking around him, trying to win him back; she never wasted time running off to her group chat, turning it into gossip.

“Tell Topper to come by my place Friday at 7.”

You stared at the screen before hitting send. No emojis or small talk, only instructions. Rafe read between the lines, you know he did—he always had. It didn’t take him long to reply.

“Okay.”

Topper showed up exactly at seven, not a second earlier or later.

You watched from the window as his car idled out front like it was nervous too. You left the gate and doors unlocked, so he had to open it himself. When he finally walked through the main door, you were on the couch, half-sunken into a pillow you didn’t like anymore.

“Hey,” he said, awkwardly waving from a distance.

“Did Rafe threaten you, or did you come willingly?”

Topper flinched. “I came 'cause you asked.”

“I told you. There’s a difference.”

He looked around your living room, scared you might bite him.

Fair.

“You look... tired,” he said, as if that was a neutral observation.

You arched an eyebrow. “Yeah, growing a human while hating most people around you is exhausting. Shocker.”

“Right,” Topper muttered, hands stuffed in his jacket, hoping he could disappear inside it. He was still standing there like a dog that got caught pissing on the rug, eyes never staying on you for more than a second.

“You want water or something?” You reached for your sarcastic vein, hoping to make him squirm. “A moral compass while you’re at it?”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t you dare say you didn’t mean to.” Your voice rose, not yelling yet. “You didn’t ask. You didn’t come to me or knock. You went through my shit like a creep, found one phone number, and assumed.”

“I thought you were sick!” he said, like that excused it. “Rafe said you were off, that you looked pale, tired, not like yourself—and I got worried!”

“No,” you snapped. “You got nosy. You played spy for Rafe because God forbid I have one fucking private thing in my life. You found that number and ran to him like a little lapdog.”

“I didn’t know it was—”

“But you told him anyway!” You retorted. “And guess what? You were right.”

He flinched as if you had punched him, but you didn't want a recurrence of the last time you saw each other.

“I thought he already knew.”

“Are you stupid?” You spoke through gritted teeth. “Why would he know? We broke up."

“I’m sorry.” He apologized again, this time with a smaller attitude. “I didn’t think. I just—I thought you needed help.”

“Help?” Your eyes narrowed. “I needed two boys whispering behind my back about my uterus like it’s public property?”

“Oh, come on,” he barked, shocking you into silence. “So you can forgive Rafe—Rafe!—who fucked you over in every way that matters—but I get crucified for screwing up once?!”

Your jaw had clenched in defiance.

“I didn’t forgive him, and that’s not the same.”

“Isn’t it?” He stepped forward now, finally showing some of the Topper you used to know—the one who didn’t roll over. “He broke your heart. You talked to him before you spoke to me; you’re texting him when you need something. You’re playing a fucking peace treaty with him.”

“Top—”

“I make one shitty call, yeah—a really bad one, I own that—but I thought you were in danger. And I don’t get a second chance? I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You stared at him, the room pulsing with shame. There was the part you hated: he was right. You’d twisted the narrative to make yourself the victim in every corner, and yeah, you were the one who had been hurt the most—but that didn’t make you righteous.

You made peace with Rafe because it was easier than holding on to that brand of pain. But Topper? He was family, which made it worse when he hurt you—it made you hold him to a higher standard.

You sat back down, hating how much that hurt—how scared he looked of you, as if you were a landmine instead of the person he used to eat cereal with in pajamas on summer mornings. The girl who cried next to him because you got your period for the first time and thought you were dying, and he just sat there, pale-faced and googling it in a panic like you’d been shot.

Yeah, he fucked up. But not like Rafe, not with malice.

Topper didn’t want to hurt you; you knew that. You always knew that, but you’d been… scared. And so angry. That was what it was, wasn’t it? Not betrayal per se—exposure. You’d felt naked and defenseless, and Topper had been the one to fuck you over.

“I know I’m being unfair,” you admitted quietly. “I know. But I’m not mad because you were wrong, Topper. You chose to go behind my back.”

He didn’t say anything.

You sighed, “With Rafe...at that point, I expected it. No with you."

“I didn’t want to break anything. I panicked.”

“I know that now. But it was easier to stay mad at you. If I forgave you… I had to admit how scared I was that Rafe knew.”

“You’re allowed to be scared.”

You looked up at him.

He shifted awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “So… you’re pregnant. And Rafe’s the—uh…”

You lifted your brow questioningly, not expecting the conversation to change tone.

"The donor?" he asked tentatively.

“What the fuck, Topper."

“I don’t know the terminology!” he argued. “I didn’t want to say ‘baby daddy’—that felt too Jerry Springer.”

You rolled your eyes. “You could’ve just said ‘the father.’”

“Oh.” He blinked. “Yeah, that’s—yeah.” He looked at you again, a little sheepish. “So… I’m gonna have a nephew?”

You almost wanted to laugh. It wasn’t funny, but for a second there, it felt like you were living in a cute movie moment, about to pull out an ultrasound and cry happy tears and pick out baby names.

Topper had always been softer than you.

You leaned into the couch again, head tipped to the ceiling. “I don’t know if it’s gonna…” Your throat locked up for a second. “If it’s gonna make it.”

Topper’s face dropped, and he was confused. “What do you mean?”

“I have anemia,” you say. “Severe. It’s why I’ve been so tired. I nearly passed out walking up the stairs last week.”

He swallowed. “But they’re treating it, right? Pills or something?”

You shook your head slowly. “Iron supplements aren’t enough. I’m doing treatments every week.”

The hope drained from his face, replaced with fear or guilt, trying to morph into protectiveness.

You kept going because once you started, it was easier to spill than stop.

“There’s a chance… a pretty decent one… that I won’t carry full term. And even if I do—if I survive that—there’s a chance the baby won’t.”

“But it’s a chance,” he said, almost begging. “Not a sentence.”

“It’s a gamble. I don’t know if my body’s strong enough to win.”

Topper looked gutted. He sank into the armchair across from you, hands clasped between his knees, looking like a kid who just found out the monsters under the bed were real the whole time.

“When were you gonna tell me?” he asked finally.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I didn’t want to make it real; it makes it harder to pretend I’m fine.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you said last time; I am your family,” he choked, eyes red. “You don’t get to die on me, do you hear me? You don’t.”

You stayed still, letting him spiral because he needed it. You knew what it felt like to be scared into saying too much.

“That shit’s not fair.”

His hands were shaking.

“I’m not dying, Topper,” you said, because he needed to hear it. Even if you weren’t sure.

He looked at you with wet eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered for the third time, and it was no longer about what he did. “Do you even… want this? Any of it?”

“No,” you replied, “I found out too late to get an abortion.”

You keep the rest of the information hidden away.

He nodded. “Yeah. That’s… fair.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “God, what kind of person does that make me?”

“The honest kind,” he added, without missing a beat.

“You’re not gonna try to make me feel better?”

“I figure if I try to wrap it up in some bullshit about silver linings, you’ll just want to throw something at me.”

You almost smiled.

“Did you tell Rafe all this?”

“Yeah. I did.”

“Really?

You nodded again, slower this time. “And more.”

Topper swallowed that. His mouth opened, then closed again, wanting to ask what “more” meant, but he thought better of it.

“Wow.”

You moved in your seat, arms tightly wrapped around your midsection.

"I was upset that he found out before I was ready to tell him. But a part of me also wanted him to see and feel it.

Topper looked at you, still piercing it all together. “So, why did you tell him?”

“I needed to.” You didn’t sugarcoat it. “It was gonna stay stuck inside me, and I was hoping that it would hurt less. That he’d carry some of the weight too.”

Topper ran a hand through his hair. “Did he?”

“Yeah.” You cleared your throat. “But that’s enough misery for one day, so...” You forced a breath that was exactly a sigh, forcing levity into your voice, “What have you been up to these past few weeks?”

Topper blinked, being the one caught off guard now.

“Uh—honestly?” He scratched the back of his neck. “I spent four days trying to get the stains off my Loewe shirt after you threw the drinks on me.”

You let out a snort. "Good. I hope it’s ruined.”

“Almost was,” he said, with exaggerated pain. “It was a limited drop. I tried vinegar, peroxide, baking soda paste—”

“And?”

“I couldn’t get it out,” he admitted. “But Sofia did.”

Hold on.

Your head snapped toward him, suddenly not blinking. “…Sofia?”

He paused, realizing the trap a second too late. “…Yeah.”

“As in Sofia, Sofia?” Your voice was constricted.

He responded with a nod at first.

"Yeah. She came by. She’s, uh, been around.” Topper’s face twitched. “We...talk? Sometimes, since that night. She saw the shirt and offered to try. She’s good at that kind of stuff—fabrics, whatever.”

You looked at him as if he had grown a second head.

Your eyes didn’t budge. “Uh-huh.”

You recognized the tone in his voice and the way he pronounced her name. Oh, my God.

This fucker cared about her.

You couldn’t process it at first—because it was Topper. You squinted at him, hoping that if you looked hard enough, the truth would pixelate into something different.

You knew that voice. You’d heard that every time your cousin fell for someone he shouldn’t, like when he said Sarah’s name at fifteen, high on the fantasy of her, long before she ever gave him the time of day. You heard it again when he stupidly gave Ruthie a chance.

And now…

Your voice sounded flat. “You like her.”

Topper flushed immediately. “I didn’t say that. She’s...pretty.”

“You don’t have to.” You had already sunk back into the couch, dragging a throw pillow over your face. “Pretty?” you echoed, sitting up straighter, hands dropping to your lap. “That’s the word you’re going with?”

He looked defensive, shrugging. “What? She is.”

“You’re unbelievable. Do you only fall for girls you’re not supposed to?”

"What does that mean?" he inquired.

You tossed the pillow at him. "Sarah? Ruthie?”

He scowled. “Okay, first of all—” He stood and rubbed his temples. “It’s not like that.”

“It is like that. You’re already defending her.”

You wanted to hate her, but she wasn’t a villainous bitch who went after your man for sport. She was a girl who saw an opportunity and seized it, openly expressing her emoticons. She was overly polite in groups. That made her a little pathetic in your eyes—but it also made her honest. Even so, you were never going to like the girl.

“I’m not—okay, I am, but that doesn’t mean—” He stopped himself. “It’s not serious.”

You blinked at him across the room, expecting resentment to bloom in your chest again, but it didn’t. This was not a backstabbing betrayal or a desire to one-up you. It wasn’t personal.

“You have a crush on Sofia.”

You felt exasperated. Maybe vaguely annoyed, but not mad. And shit, wasn’t that the strangest part? Your claws didn't come out for the first time in months.

You shook your head and let out a soft, disbelieving breath.

“Topper. She's—she’s not like us.”

“I know.”

“And what exactly are you planning to do with that information, Romeo? You gonna start bringing her to country club mixers?”

“I like talking to her. And she makes things feel less...”

You went quiet.

He looked at you again, brows drawn. “You think I like her?”

“I know you do,” you said, more tired than teasing.

Topper sat back down. “Shit.”

You hummed in agreement, "You know Ruthie's going to kill her, right?"

Topper groaned, “Don’t say that.”

You gave him a look. “Why? It’s the truth.”

“She won’t—she’s not—Ruthie wouldn’t actually—”

“Oh my God, Topper.” You leaned forward. “Ruthie keyed a girl’s car because she thought she flirted with you. What do you think she will do once she realizes the girl she has been having pool parties with and pretending to laugh with for months is talking to you?

“She doesn’t know yet!”

“She will.”

He nodded slowly, as if facing death. “Yeah. She will.”

You despised the part of yourself that understood Sofia, that knew that even if she was the one who stepped into Rafe's life after you had left, she did so with a genuine heart.

Your arms tightened around your stomach.

Topper was staring up at the ceiling. “Ruthie's going to destroy her.”

You scoffed.

He laughed dryly, devoid of humor. “Sofia’s sweet.”

“She better learn how to bite.” You weren’t trying to sound cruel, but maybe it came out that way because the second it left your mouth, Topper's gaze shifted to you.

"She is not like Ruthie," he explained quietly.

Or me, you thought to yourself. Sofia was good, not performatively.

She had goodness that still made you roll your eyes, hardly believing it could be real without strings or hidden self-interest. But that girl truly trusted that people meant well and rooted for happy endings.

That had to be nice.

You dion’t know what that kind of believing felt like; you had spent too long preparing for the worst. Hope got you here. Sofia would cry when she was hurt, but you would burn down the entire room before admitting you were bleeding.

“No. She’s not.”

Ruthie was always prepared to pout and smile as she stabbed you in the back. You knew because you would done it too. Once. Maybe more than once. But she was a different breed; she never got hurt and only hurt back.

“It’s not important,” he muttered. “It’s not like Sofia likes me anyway. We’re friends. She’s still in love with—”

He stopped mid-sentence and you only watched the words die in his throat.

“She’s still in love with Rafe,” you finished for him, letting out a small sigh, gaze flicking away, eyes fixed on nothing. “I know she is.”

Topper scrubbed a hand down his face. “How did we get here?”

You looked back at him, tilting your head. “Do you think you're the only one doing the falling?”

He grimaced. “I didn’t think I was falling at all.”

You hummed, nails digging into your sleeves.

“If it makes you feel better, I don’t hate her. I’d sleep better if I did.”

He looked at you sideways. “You don’t?”

You hesitated. “I don’t like her; I’ll never like her. But she didn’t steal anything from me.”

Topper opened his mouth to say something, then stopped. Whatever he was going to say, he must’ve decided it wasn’t worth the lie.

“I think she wants to move on,” he said instead. “She’s trying. She knows he’s in love with you, still. She’s angry about it,” he added, softer this time. “At the way it all played out.”

You swallowed. “She should be.”

God knows you would've done a lot more damage if you were in her shoes.

He let out a groan.

“Dude, it’s been so long since you’ve been a sappy bitch; this is making me uncomfortable.”

“Shut up.”

“Who are you, and what have you done with my cousin?” Topper teased, tossing a couch cushion at you as if you were thirteen again, trapped in summer vacation hell with only mosquito bites and each other for company.

You tossed it right back. “Don’t act like you didn’t cry during Marley & Me, asshole.”

He huffed, “I had allergies.”

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever helps you fall asleep at night.”

When he looked at you again, he was still smiling; you were both in this strange limbo of pain and healing, treading through all the shit that had happened.

"I missed this," he stated abruptly.

You cast a glance at him. “What?”

“This. Fighting over dumb shit. "Talking to you," he said, picking at a loose thread on his shirt's hem. “Felt like I lost you.”

You looked down at your lap. “You didn’t lose me.”

For a few weeks, it felt as if grief had permanently divided you, and neither of you knew how to get back to normal. But sitting there now, it didn’t feel so far away.

The old you would’ve let that comment slide, pretended you didn’t hear it, or made a sarcastic joke.

“I’m glad you told me,” you said quietly, nudging his leg with your foot. “About her.”

“Regretting it already.”

You smiled. “Shut up. I can understand why you like her."

You missed being someone who believed that those who loved you would never hurt you—at least not on purpose. Topper had been stupid, but he was trying. Genuinely trying to understand why it mattered so much.

He gave you a side-eye. “You just said you’ll never like her.”

“I won’t. But that doesn’t mean I don’t think you’d be good to her.”

A beat passed. “Are you sure you’re doing okay?”

"Today? Yeah.”

Topper let out a low chuckle, the familiar sound tugging on something deep within your chest. "You’re gonna be fine.”

"Yeah?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. You’ve got a good heart beneath that bitch exterior," he teased, but his eyes were genuine.

You didn’t want to admit how much that bit of vulnerability—shit, even just his words—meant to you.

"Missed you too, asshole."

"Good."

“But if Ruthie shows up with a baseball bat at your door, I’m not bailing you out.”

He snorted. “Noted.”

Rafe stared at the wood floors in his therapist's office, a vein in his temple showing.

"Rafe?" Dr. Keller called, pen still against her notebook. "You said you were ready to talk about it."

He wondered how the fuck he was going to get the words out.

"Yeah. I... I don't know where to start."

"You don’t have to say it perfectly."

Rafe nodded as his fingers twitched in his lap.

“She told me.”

Dr. Keller tilted her head. “She told you about...”

“The baby,” His eyes flicked to yours, “And everything else. What the doctors said.” His jaw clenched. “She looked so calm when she said it, she's already making peace with it. She was more worried about others than herself, and I…I don’t know what to do with that. How am I supposed to be okay with any of this?”

What if you died? What if you died and Rafe was stuck here—left with a crying newborn that was supposed to be yours but feels like a ghost of you? He exhaled shakily and violently shook his head, trying to push the fear that was crawling up his spine away.

“I swear, I—I can’t breathe sometimes, thinking about it. If she doesn’t—if she doesn’t come outta this, then what? What am I supposed to do? Raise a kid alone? Be the guy who tells the kid why their mom’s not there? Me?” He scoffed again, “I can’t keep my own shit together. You know what I did after? I drove to the docks and sat there. I didn’t realize I’d been there for hours until my phone died. Just... stared at the water. Tryin’ not to think about what it’d feel like if I jumped in.”

His eyes darted to Dr. Keller for a second before looking away shamelessly.

“I wouldn’t, okay? I’m not... I’m not gonna do that. But what if I mess the kid up the same way I got messed up? What if I scream, or drink, or disappear for hours, and the kid grows up thinking that’s normal? What if I become him?” The last word burned coming out of his mouth — him meaning Ward, the monster behind his bloodline.

Dr. Keller watched him, her pen resting motionless on the page now.

“Rafe,” she started, carefully, “you’re carrying a lot more than grief right now. You’re carrying fear, guilt, and a future you feel completely unprepared for.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“You mentioned the thought of becoming your father,” she continued, gently. “That’s not a small fear. That’s generational trauma and you’re trying to break that cycle with zero margin for error in the middle of a crisis.”

“And what if I already am him and I’m just too stupid to see it?”

“You’re not him,” Dr. Keller gave him a tight-lipped smile. “You’re scared of becoming him. That’s not the same. Your awareness, the self-loathing, it's proof enough that you’re trying; you care."

Is that supposed to make me feel better? Rafe wanted to snap, but it stuck in his throat; he did want to believe her.

“Trying doesn’t bring her back.”

Dr. Keller nodded slowly. "You’re mourning her before she dies; this is called anticipatory grief. And it’s paralyzing. But… she’s still here.”

He closed his eyes; the words should have been reassuring, but instead felt like a curse. For now. But how long?

“Do you want to be there?” she asked softly. “If the time comes?”

His eyes snapped open. “What?”

“If something does happen...would you want to be in the room with her? Holding her hand?”

Rafe opened his mouth — then closed it. The image slammed into his chest: your hand going limp in his, that godawful beeping.

“I’d rather it kill me than let her go through that alone.”

Dr. Keller paused for a second before responding again, "Thank you for saying that.”

Rafe sneered. “Don’t thank me. It’s the bare minimum.”

His knee bounced, fingers drumming against it now, twitchy.

Classic Rafe.

“She was scared. I could tell, even if she was trying’ to be calm about it. That fake smile she gives when she is making things easier for everyone but herself." He laughed under his breath, “Always thinkin’ about everyone else.”

He dragged his hand down his cheek, the heel of his palm pressing firmly against his eye socket.

Dr. Keller’s voice was calm. "You said she appeared at peace with it. How did that make you feel?"

“It pissed me off,” Rafe snapped, sitting back hard in the chair, the memory shoving him. “It made me wanna shake her. I’m not even close to ready to let her go.”

“That’s not how this works, Rafe.”

“I know that. I do. But if I’d been anyone else, we wouldn’t be talkin’ about what happens if she dies.” He scratched at the back of his neck, agitated. “I should’ve protected her better."

“You can’t protect people from fate.”

“No,” he said, bitterly. “But I should’ve been the one to get hurt. Not her, never her.”

Dr. Keller leaned across her legs, as if talking to a child. Rafe hated that—that way she leaned in patiently like he was going to lose it if she used a firmer tone, as if he was a sulking boy. It made him feel smaller, somehow, back on the porch steps at seventeen, bleeding pride and fury while Ward talked over his head like he wasn’t there.

She must've noticed the change in his posture because she pulled back instantly.

“I’m not here to judge you. You’re not responsible for what’s happening to her. You didn’t cause this.”

"If I hadn’t gotten her pregnant in the first place, she wouldn’t be sick. She’s... she’s been so fucking sick, and I—"

"Stop."

Dr. Keller's voice was loud enough to stop him from spiraling.

"Rafe, you can’t keep doing that. You’re blaming yourself for things that you can’t change. Yes, the pregnancy put a strain on her body, but it wasn’t a choice that caused this. You were not the one who decided that she was going to have severe anemia, these things happen.”

“She almost didn’t tell me,” he muttered. “She was gonna go through all of it and not tell me she might—” His breath hitched, voice cracking.

Dr. Keller’s brows pinched in sympathy. “That’s because she cares for you.”

"I know. That’s what makes it worse; I don’t deserve any of it.”

“What happened after she told you?”

He swallowed hard, his throat tight, similar to swallowing broken glass. “I cried. In front of her. She held me. She’s the one whose iron’s so low she can’t stand some days, and she held me. I told her I’d take care of her, that I’d—” His voice faltered. “I meant it. I don’t know if she believed me.”

The silence fell like dust.

Dr. Keller spoke cautiously. “Do you want another chance to show her that you mean it?”

Rafe looked up, his eyes rimmed with red.

"I want every chance. I want her to hate me, scream at me, and call me selfish, if it means she’s still here to do it. I want her here.”

She waited for him to settle before pivoting.

“May I ask you something?”

He nodded, scrubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, angry that they remained wet. "Yeah. Go ahead.”

“When did you realize you were in love with her?”

His brows lifted, and he dropped his gaze back to the floor, a hint of a real smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, almost imperceptible.

"The first time I saw her," he admitted quietly.

Dr. Keller didn’t write that down.

“We were kids. She had these stupid braids in her hair and this pout on her face ‘cause her mom made her wear a dress she hated. And I remember thinking, 'Shit. That’s her’.”

He huffed a breathy laugh through his nose.

“I didn’t know what love was back then," His throat bobbed. "That night, I asked my mom—‘cause I felt weird. Not bad weird. Just... warm. And I asked her what it meant when someone made you feel like that. When you’d do anything to sit next to them or punch anyone who made 'em sad.” He paused, exhaling shakily. “My mom smiled and said, ‘Sounds like love, baby.’ I told her that was stupid; I was too young to be in love. She said, “It’ll wait for you’.”

Dr. Keller glanced up then, but still didn’t write. The recorder between them was already doing its job.

"The love you feel for her is your compass. Neither your guilt nor your fear. That’s what will get you through this. And it’s what will help you raise your child too, if it comes to it.”

“Just want her to know I’m tryin’. Even if I’m scared shitless, I’m want to be the guy she thought I could be.”

“You’re already becoming him,” She nodded. “The moment you walked in here and chose to speak instead of staying silent, you became him.”

“She waited for me, all these years. I’ll wait for her too, however long it takes.”

Rafe hadn’t been sleeping much.

He hoped that by finally letting it all out in Dr. Keller's office, something would settle. But if anything, he was restless.

He’d taken to pacing the house, rubbing his thumb raw over his knuckles. Anything to stop thinking. He was fed up with that shit.

When his brain got too loud, he felt it—the old itch in his bones. The voice that said just a drink. He’d gone down to the liquor cabinet once, stared at the bottle, hands shaking. Thought about calling Barry, just to talk. Or not talk.

But he didn’t pour the drink or make the call.

It was a little past noon when Sarah showed up at Tannyhill. He heard the front door open, the sound of her voice calling out for Wheezie, and he tensed where he stood in the kitchen. He wanted to back out to the dock, or into his truck, or anywhere her eyes couldn’t pin him down.

He stayed put.

Sarah came to a stop in the kitchen doorway.

“Rafe.”

He didn’t look at her, only ran his hand down his face, the skin along his cheek red from where he kept doing that—rubbing, scraping.

“Wheezie’s not here,” he mumbled. “She’s at choir practice.”

“I know.” Her tone was less accusatory than it had been the previous few times they spoke. “I came to see you.”

“Great. You’ve seen me.”

“You look like shit.” She set down her keys. “She told you.”

He nodded once.

In another life, you would’ve told him first. That thought looped itself over and over, winding tighter around his throat every time it passed through. If things had been different—if he had been different—you would’ve trusted him enough to say it before Sarah.

“She didn’t flinch,” Rafe said, more to the floor than to her. “Acted like it was another Tuesday.”

He braced for the lecture—a speech about stepping up or being better, some bullshit he already told himself every night.

Instead, Sarah walked over. "That’s how she is. You know that.”

He nodded again, stiffer this time. “I feel like if I blink, she’s gonna—"

Sarah gave him a look. “She didn’t want to tell you, but she still did.”

Rafe's throat felt parched as he burned holes in his hands. “I don’t think she expects me to stick around.”

“Can you blame her?”

He winced, curling his shoulders, hoping to make himself smaller.

“Did she...?” He had to stop himself. The words tasted wrong.

Sarah waited with arms crossed loosely.

"Have you seen her? Did she seem like she’s…” He clenched his jaw. “Like she’s getting worse?”

“She’s tired all the time. Can’t keep food down sometimes. Fainted last week during treatment and told the nurse not to call anyone.”

He averted his gaze and clenched the counter's edge until his knuckles turned white.

“I would’ve been there.”

Sarah arched her brow. “Rafe, you left her.”

He gave a rough sigh, tipping his head back. The ceiling provided little comfort. He had been staring at it a lot lately—at night, in the early mornings, whenever sleep refused to come.

“You can’t disappear and expect her to wait with the door open.”

“I haven’t been sleeping.”

“I know.”

He pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek. “I’m scared.”

Sarah’s expression didn’t change. “I know that too.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“You already do. You love her.”

“She hardly cried, Sar. Is that normal?”

Rafe was aware of the consequences of ignoring it and continuing. That shit didn’t vanish; instead, it buried itself deep, carving its way around your entire being.

“She cried enough already,” Sarah confessed. “She’s tired.”

He didn’t want her to fall apart for him or cry so he’d feel better. But he was terrified you weren’t letting it out at all, that it was going to eat you alive like it had him.

He’d stared at the bottle that morning, stomach sick. Not because he craved the burn, the familiarity, but because drinking was easier than dealing with this helplessness, this love.

The urge was there, caged and pacing.

Rafe could feel it some mornings before his feet hit the floor, but therapy helped. At first, he thought it was bullshit, but when it was him and the silence and all the thoughts he couldn’t outrun, it started to make sense. And it worked—sort of. Worked enough to get him out of the house, to make him want to be good.

For himself. For you.

These past few days, however, he wasn’t sure if it was enough.

He’d done rehab before, for coke. Back when it was clear he was ruining his life at ninety miles an hour. He hadn’t needed anyone to spell it out for him—he’d looked in the mirror and known he wasn’t human anymore.

Drinking didn’t get that bad, at least not in the same explosive way.

He hadn’t driven drunk or gotten violent or collapsed in public. But it slipped in, and it started around the time Ward died—almost four months ago. Everyone kept telling him he was fine now because he had money, a house, and a second chance.

He decided to quit on his own.

What if it came back? What if he needed more?

He didn’t want to end up on that floor again, have you or his sisters walk in and find him like that. He wanted to be better.

Rafe clenched his jaw, dug his thumb into the same spot on his knuckle, “You think I’d be a better dad than Ward?”

Sarah clicked her tongue. “Low bar, don’t you think?”

“Sarah.”

“You think he asked himself that question? Lost sleep wondering if he was screwing us up?” She scoffed. “He just did it and moved on. You’re not Dad."

The screen door banged open right then, footsteps thudding across the porch like a stampede, which only one person ever managed to pull off in flip-flops.

“Hello?” Wheezie’s voice rang out. “Anybody home? I swear, Rafe, if you ate the last of the garlic knots again—”

She skidded to a stop in the kitchen doorway and blinked. Her eyes bounced from one sibling to another, and her mouth popped open.

“Wait. Are you two…” Her pupils shrank dramatically. “Talking? Like, with actual words?”

Rafe huffed.

“We talk sometimes.”

“No, you shout,” Wheezie said, grinning like a lunatic now. “Or someone storms out. Or something gets broken. This is… peace talks. Historic.”

“We’re not that bad,” Rafe argued, though his tone said even he didn’t believe it.

“You’re so bad,” Wheezie laughed, dropping her choir folder on the table and tossing her shoes into a corner. “This is beautiful. Sibling bonding. I might cry.”

“Dramatic much?” Sarah snorted.

“I’m underfed; let me have this.”

“You’re such a dork.”

“I live to serve,” Wheezie bowed. Then she perked up. “Wait. Are you staying? For dinner?”

“I hadn’t really—”

“Please,” Wheezie cut in, clasping her hands like a cartoon orphan. “We never all eat together. It’s always me and a sad grilled cheese and whatever Rafe finds in the freezer. We have chicken tonight! And mashed potatoes. Homemade, not the weird box kind.”

Sarah cast Rafe a suspicious glance. “You made mashed potatoes?”

"I peeled them," he flatly stated.

“He actually peeled them!” Wheezie was beaming. “With that weird frown he gets when he’s concentrating. It was adorable.”

“Jesus Christ,” Rafe groaned, turning away, hiding the flush crawling up his neck.

“Come on, Sarah. Please. One night! We’ll even let you pick the playlist.”

Sarah hesitated for a moment before sighing and returning her gaze to Rafe. He didn’t say anything, only gave a small nod.

“Fine,” she relented. “But I’m picking good music.”

“YES. Oh my god, this is the best day ever. Historic peace treaty, family dinner. I’m writing about this in my journal.”

She dashed off to set the table with the zeal of someone preparing for a royal banquet.

Rafe and Sarah watched as she left.

“You know she’s gonna talk our ears off the whole meal,” Sarah said.

“Better than the quiet.”

Sarah gave him a brief stare before nodding. “Yeah. I guess so.”

579 notes · View notes

fandoms--fluff · 2 days ago

Text

Hideout

Wife reader x Bucky Barnes

Summary: your husband and a bunch of strangers show up at your house in the middle of the night.

Warnings: John walker, swearing

A/n: The car they have is a mini van instead of the van they had in the movie, so with actual seats and that stuff - so minor change, that's all.

^the car seating plan

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Where are we going?" Ava asks, being the third person in the last ten minutes to ask Bucky this. "We'll be there shortly" He grounds out, the same response he's given the last two times.

John is about to say something but is quickly stopped by the glare wielded his way from Yelena. From the past three days of knowing him, she's gotten used to knowing that whenever he opens his mouth, something stupid comes out. Every. Time. And every time, it looks like Bucky is that much closer to pummeling him.

Another fifteen minutes later and Bucky pulls the van into a dirt road leading away from any civilization. Ava and Yelena look out the rear window as the main road is getting further and further away.

The two women glance at each other in concern of where they're heading and how Bucky isn't telling them anything about it. "This seems more like a kidnapping than staying under the radar" Ava finally says when Bucky continues driving deeper into the forest.

"I'm sure the winter soldier knows where we're going and what he's doing. We're fine." Alexei says with a hefty laugh as he's watching from the window beside him.

Bucky meanwhile lets out an aggravated sigh to himself, but he doesn't say anything since in just mere minutes, they'll arrive at the location. The location of which feels like he hasn't been to in way too long for his liking.

And that location is a cabin. A cabin that Tony had set up for his wife during the blip so she wouldn't have to put on any kind of act by being around others all the time. That woman just so happened yo be you, Y/n Barnes.

You're an ex. shield agent that helped Steve with finding Bucky after the events of Pierce and Hydra still being active, as well as the whole project insight fail. Bucky and you caught feelings for each other after some time of finding him again and through the events of the team splitting up and fighting against Thanos, both times. After the second time and all the tragedy, you guys decided to get married. Not that it didn't come with hardships, like the whole therapy thing and having to forgive himself and make amends, and the flagsmashers. But all in all, you love each other.

Which is how you find your eyebrows furrowing as you hear a rusty sound of a car driving along the path towards the cabin. That wasn't normal. Your husband always comes home on his bike, only a car a few times, but those times he alerted you. This time though, you got no communication from him that says not to worry.

So, you immediately turn the light off in the living room and grab your gun from the holster on your thigh. Yes, you may be alone out here, but it doesn't mean danger can't find you. Plus, this is what you were trained for.

You silently move through the pitch black house, the only light coming from the headlights of the car illuminating the halls from through the windows. Sticking to the shadows, you make your way outside through a hidden door at the side of the house.

The gun with your finger on the trigger is held firmly down to your right side as you trek silently to the corner to get a glimpse at who's in the car.

"What is this place?" Yelena asks when Bucky turns off the ignition and pulls the keys out. Instead of answering, Bucky just gets out of the car and puts his hands up after closing the door.

"I know you're there. It's me." He calls out to, appearance wise, no one. This makes everyone still in the van look at each other with confused gazes before unbuckling their seatbelts and getting out of the mini van as well. Except for Yelena right away, she stays to wake Bob up. He had nodded off an hour ago in the drive, his head rested against the small window to his left.

You come out of your hiding spot behind the corner of the house with your gun held in front of you, your legs spread in a fighting stance. That is until it's confirmed that it's in fact your husband and no trick.

Paying no mind to the other people coming out of the car, you holster your gun and go over to him. Bucky quickly wraps his arms around you and holds you close to him. He rests his head on your shoulder as he breathes in the light scent of your shampoo that's still lingering from the shower you took this morning.

As Yelena and Bob emerge from the beat up mini van, you and bucky pull apart from one another to face the group of them who are now acting as though they weren't just watching what happened.

You scan over everyone and the last person, your face twists in something someone can only call as disgust. John Walker. "Hey, Y/n, long time no see?" The man at least has the decency to be weary and nervous, scratching the back of his neck. "Could be longer" You say sharply before taking your eyes off him, and just stare at the group as a whole instead.

"Wait, who is this?" Yelena is the one to speak up. "This is Y/n. My wife." Bucky smiles softly, the most genuine look on his face they've seen on him as he looks at you.

"You have a wife?" Several versions of this questions rise from the group, but get off from a glare he sends their way.

"Hey. Nice to meet you guys, I guess" You look back up at your husband before to them again. "Who are you exactly and why do you look like you just went ten rounds with a tornado?" You ask with a raised eyebrow as you take in how disheveled they all look.

"It's best we explain inside." Bucky says. You let out a puff of air before nodding after a moment and taking a key out of your boot. You head to the front door and unlock it, your husband by your side as the rest of them follow inside.

You turn the lights on as Bucky closes and locks the door and enacts the security system that runs through the house and property. "This way" You say and lead them to the living room. As they take a seat, all basically bursting with confusion still, you go over to your husband.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me you were coming, Buck!?" You exclaim in a hushed whisper. "I didn't have any way of communicating you. And I was a little pre-occupied" He glances at the people in the next room over. "I was worried about you" you finally say. "I didn't know what was happening. All I knew was how you bailed on your congressman meetings and had apparently gone rogue."

"I know, and I'm so sorry, darling. But I promise, I'm alright, and we'll tell you everything that happened" Bucky says and presses a kiss to your lips. You melt into it for a second before remembering about the occupants in the next room over.

"Come on, mind as well get this over with." He says quietly into your ear and wraps your hand in his. He leads you to the living room and to in front of the fireplace to face everyone.

"Alright, this is Alexei, Ava, Yelena, and Bob." Bucky introduces them to you. "And him as well," he quickly nods over to John, not wanting to draw too much of your attention to the man that you loath. And boy, does Bucky understand, but nows not the time.

Yelena does a little awkward wave. "Alright. Would someone like to inform me what the hell exactly happened?" You cross your arms and lean against the fireplace mantle.

They all glance at each other before Yelena sighs and sits up straighter, starting to summarize everything that happened to them up to when Bucky met them and blew up Alexie's limo. At that you look at your husband with a raised brow before Yelena continues, the others popping in at times as well.

Once everyone was finished explaining the events leading up to them arriving here, you pinch the bridge of your nose and quietly groan. "Valentina? As in the same woman from three years ago, is behind this whole thing?"

You get multiple nods and 'yeah's from the group. "Wonderful. Well, next time you plan to see her, bring me with. I have a thing or two to say...or do" the ex spy in you is coming out.

"Does he usually fall asleep like that" you're attention is drawn to Bob who is asleep with his head resting on the back couch cushioning. "Uh, he's been through a lot." Ava says.

"Okay, yeah," you sigh, "Well, down the hall are some bedrooms. You guys look like you need to clean up and some sleep yourselves." You point down the hall to your right.

"Thank you" Yelena nods, the rest of them saying thanks as well before standing and going down the hall. Though John goes over to lift Bob. "Don't bother, he can stay in the couch, he seems peaceful" you tell him, trying to fight off the growl even though technically the man was doing something sweet (ish).

He relents and nods, not wanting to get into a fight with you at this time, knowing he won't win. You go over to the younger man and have him lay down more comfortably on the couch with a pillow, as well as draping one of the throw blankets over him.

"Though if you break anything, I will personally come after you" you call down the hallway before going upstairs to your bedroom with Bucky.

"You're very authoritative. It's good, they actually listened to you" he says once you guys get to your shared room.

"That's cause I'm such an amazing person" you smirk. But a moment later, you smack your husband upside the head. "What was that for?" He asks, surprised at the action, not like it hurt that much anyways.

"For worrying me. And for the stupid shit you did" you say before kissing him softly.

857 notes · View notes

luna-azzurra · 2 days ago

Text

Romance List Prompts

Forced Proximity “Oops, There’s Only One Bed” & Other Nightmares (aka: trapped together, forced to talk, and now I’m noticing your eyelashes??)

✧ They hate each other. Of course they do. But now they’re snowed in at the same remote cabin. One bed. No signal. Nowhere to run from each other or their feelings. ✧ They barely know each other, just enough to be annoyed in passing. Then they get stuck between floors, in the dark, and suddenly all the things they don’t say become impossible to ignore. ✧ They agree to a long-haul drive for mutual convenience. Cue broken-down car, sketchy motel, and sharing snacks like it’s an act of war. By night two, they’re sleeping back-to-back and trying not to notice how quiet it gets when the other person isn’t talking. ✧ They’re both responsible for watching someone else's pet/kid/home. They bicker like divorced parents. They bond over chaos. And somewhere between late-night takeout and arguing over dishes, they accidentally become something like a couple.

Forbidden Romance “We Shouldn’t, But God We Want To” (aka: slow burn with a side of inner turmoil)

✧ They were raised to hate each other. But then they meet, outside the context, outside the war, and start to realize they’re not what they were taught. And it wrecks them both. ✧ They’re assigned to protect someone who is completely off limits. Flirting is forbidden. Feelings are dangerous. And yet? Every glance feels like a confession they can’t afford to say out loud. ✧ Teacher/Instructor x Student, but make it ethical and age-appropriate. It’s a short-term class, a writing retreat, a combat training course. The power dynamic is there, but so is the connection. They try to keep it professional. They fail. Beautifully. ✧ Best Friend’s Sibling... They’re off limits. Point blank. But the tension? The tension is screaming. Especially when the best friend keeps leaving them alone together, completely unaware.

Grumpy x Sunshine “Why Are You Like This?” (aka: emotionally constipated x aggressively full of feelings)

✧ Roommates from Opposite Vibes... One’s all color-coded calendars and 7AM smoothies. The other hasn’t done laundry in three weeks and growls before coffee. They clash. But one rainy day, the sunshine one leaves soup on the grump’s desk with a dumb little smiley note. It breaks them. ✧ Coffee Shop Owner x Frequent Customer... Grump runs the quiet, broody café. Sunshine comes in every morning with messy hair and too much enthusiasm. The barista rolls their eyes, but they always remember their order. Always. ✧ Hired for the Same Job. Grump is practical. Sunshine is chaotic. They’re forced to collaborate. The tension is delicious. Especially when the sunshine one starts to get under the grump’s skin and into their heart. ✧ They're on a team. The world is ending. The sunshine one makes jokes to stay sane. The grump one acts like they don’t care, until the sunshine one gets hurt. Then suddenly they’re soft, scared, and furious about it.

Extra Angst & Emotional Damage For the Writers Who Like to Hurt (and Heal)

✧ “You Remembered?” They thought the other didn’t care. They’re used to being forgotten. But then, in the quiet, the other person says something, something small, something specific, and it hits like a train. ✧ “I Would’ve Picked You Every Time” They lost each other once. Circumstances. Timing. Fear. Years later, they meet again. And this time? This time the truth comes out. And it’s raw, and ugly, and healing. ✧ “Don’t Look at Me Like That” They’re breaking. Mid-fight. Mid-confession. One of them cracks and says the thing they swore they wouldn’t say. The other just looks at them soft, wide-eyed and it’s too much. ✧ “I Never Stopped Loving You” Classic. Heart-shattering. Should only be used when you want your readers to cry at 2AM while whispering “why did you do this to me”.

586 notes · View notes

madamechrissy · 2 days ago

Text

Losing Control Now

Pairings: Mobster Gojo x bartender F!reader

Summary: Something about running the Gojo mafia just makes Satoru so bored. Boring, boring boring. Sure, he loves money, he loves women, he loves snorting snowy powder off their bodies. He loves the power that comes from it- but he's just bored. That is, until he stumbles upon you, the brand new bartender that makes him pause, falter, and then soon he becomes obsessed, with knowing you, in every single way. Paying off your mom's debts and working two jobs, you're exhausted, but something about this pretty Mob boy just makes you... excited again. How far in are you, and how far is Satoru in the mafia world? All he knows, is he must have you.

CW: Sexual content, mafia themes, drug themes, violence, obsessed Satoru Gojo, oral sex, possessive Gojo, drug use and drug dealing, lots of hurt/comfort- This part- Explicit p in v sex, public (kinda!?) sex, oral (f receiving) rough sex, spitting, choking, multiple rounds, lots of feelings, talking you through it, cervix kisses, creampie - WC this part- 8.2k wc

That Gojo art is by michi_ia on X, based on Satoru from Pour it Up (Sukuna's story) You can read it alone, but I think it enhances this

<<<part three - masterlist - playlist- Part five>>> (coming soon)

Part four

Satoru Gojo bought a fucking boat for your first date.

Not some tiny little thing either, it’s a gorgeous gleaming white boat gently bobbing along the dock, your jaws drop open as you look at it, then at him, and he has a bashful little smile, a blush on his perfect cheeks. How a mobster can be just so precious and adorable is still a conundrum you haven’t quite figured out, but here he is, rubbing the back of his neck now.

“I didn’t even ask if you liked boats.” He mumbles, and you burst out into laughter then, shaking your head and standing in front of him, hands sliding up his chest.

“Satoru, this is amazing. I’ve never been on one!”

“Shit, never?” You shake your head and he exhales, as if he was truly worried that a damn boat wouldn’t impress you.

“Never, this is insane, I thought we were going to dinner or something, not you buying a boat!”

“We are still having dinner, think I wouldn’t feed you?” He pulls you against him then, hands warm on your waist, making you tremble.

It feels perfect in his arms.

You two hardly know each other and yet you have never felt more at home or safe than you do with him. It should terrify you more than it actually does, but instead you’re just drawn in to him, like a moth to his pretty, bright flame. You sigh, brushing a hand across his cheek now, thumb on the jut of his cheekbone, while the wind by the water whips up around you two.

“Where did you come from, Satoru?” Your soft words pierce his heart, he leans low and presses a kiss on your forehead, feeling the warmth of your skin as the sunlight gently washes over you both, casting shadows across the soft sand beneath both of your feet.

“C’mon, sweets.” He tugs you along, smiling heartbreakingly boyish at you, and you eagerly follow him, he clearly knows something about boats according to his terminology while he gives you a whole tour. There’s even a pretty little room underneath like a little captain’s chamber, when your fingers brush against the silk of the blankets your tummy clenches.

It’s all too fast with him, you know you should take your time, you know you should maybe wait, have any kind of self preservation, but it’s almost impossible when you’re head over heels since you met him. Love at first sight couldn’t exist - could it? Was it lust or desire at first sight, or are you too afraid to admit that it could be, that you felt as if you’d always known him?

That you felt at home and safe?

That you feel better than you have in years, with someone who barely knows you but truly sees you and cares for you so much, do you even deserve him? You have to keep questioning it, if your happiness is well deserved, or if perhaps you were meant to go through it all. The depression you’ve felt is still there, the self doubt, but every moment with Satoru brings a brightness to your heart.

“Wanna steer the boat, sweetheart?” He asks then, and you nod eagerly, he laughs soft at how you bounce over, your hands nervously gripping the huge wheel, there are a couple attendants on the boat, pushing off now, while you dart through the water, and he comes behind you, arms wrapped around you on either side. “Look, you’re a whole captain.”

“Am I now?” You tease, using his help to gently guide it, it was a bit for show of course, but you feel perfect in this moment.

“Need a sexy captain’s hat. One sec.” Satoru disappears, as the soft spray brushes against your skin, and he returns with one, bright white with a line of navy blue, pretty silver emblem in the middle. “There, so fucking sexy.”

“You’re well prepared!” You giggle again, and your pretty laugh, how it scrunches up your nose, how it lights up your eyes makes every bit of anything worth it.

Satoru should be scared, right, he should hold back when he’s feeling more in moments with you than he has his entire life, but there’s so much to you, since the moment his eyes locked with you, those pretty but tired eyes looking back at him. He knew then he had to know you, you make him feel better than any drink or line could, better than any girl that tries to make him feel good.

It’s like all he can see is you.

“Should just wear that tonight.” His murmur rocks your entire body, humming just for him, while he’s leading you away, and one of the men takes over with a little nod and a smile, the two of you leaning along the rails, lit all across with pretty fairy lights, twinkling like pretty fireflies as the sky fills with colors.

“God it’s beautiful!” You do a little spin, breathless as you do, and he chuckles, hands in the pockets of his slacks as he watches you. “Satoru, can I ask…” you drift off now, back to looking at the sea beneath you two. “Why no date before?”

“Oh, that.” He rubs the back of his neck then, looking away a little now, hair blowing softly with the breeze. “Well, not gonna lie sweets I… kinda just… fuck.”

“Oh. Oh? Oh… oh!” He chuckles at your responses, as you compute it all in your mind, lips pursing. “Like, casual?”

“Yeah. They just come to me? I’ve never tried to get a girl, or tried to be with any of them. It just sort of came with the lifestyle, there are women very devoted to the main families, especially mine. Mob groupies.”

“Oh gosh.” Your cheeks heat up, for some reason, like earlier, the thought of anyone with Satoru makes you unreasonably irritated. You know it should not, but it’s still there, smacking you in the face, a possessive feeling that’s irrational but as tangible as anything.

“Yeah so, I don’t know I just had fun and cruised through life as I could, with so many responsibilities that I don’t fucking want, it just passed the time enjoyably. Though,” he brushes a hand across your jaw now, looking down at you with his brilliant eyes behind those dark shades. “I assure you, nothing feels like you.”

“Satoru…” You bury your face against his chest, he chuckles then, holding you tightly against him. “You don’t know how I feel just yet.”

“I’ll make sure she learns the shape of me, don’t worry.” His whisper brushes against your ear, you shift now, throbbing from his filthy words, he’s such a mix of it - of sweet and filthy - intoxicating as you whine out and he laughs again. “Got you excited, didn’t I?”

“Shush. You know what you’re doing.” You glare a bit, and then bury your face again, letting him hold you on the boat, in the perfect moment.

Too perfect.

For a girl who’s been dead on her feet and terrified for so long, this feels surreal - like a dream you fear you’ll get woken up from at any moment, and will do anything to stay here. Clinging to him, like you’ll lose him, like he’ll dissolve at any given moment - like he’s not even real, but he constantly reassures you with every breath that he is, with his hand slipping down your spine, leaving chills.

“Maybe I love to see your cute little reactions.” You sigh, stepping back and looking up at him, hair falling to the side when he tilts your chin so carefully, thumb brushing over your lower lip.

“I feel like this is some pretty dream, I’ve crashed at work, and my boss is gonna be mad.” He snorts, rolling his eyes at you.

“No you’re very much awake, I would know. You snored on me in the limo.”

“No way!”

“Mhmm.”

“So, Satoru, why… is this different, then? Me and you?” He nods, words stuck in his throat, part fear but also part…

How does he describe the difference?

“It’s different,” his husky words reassure you. “Very.”

“You seem like you hate and love running things, you know.” He walks you towards a pretty table that’s all set up with drinks and plates, you sit right next to him, chair screeching along the planks as he drags you close, a hand on your thigh now while you set down the hat.

“Sukuna runs shit for me mostly, but of course I have a role to play. And yeah, I fucking hate it, it’s not my choice…” Your heart aches as you study him, you still have so much to learn, even though you surely felt as if you’ve known him forever. “My parents died, and I had to take over. I was eighteen.”

“Shit, Satoru, I’m so sorry.” You blink back tears, and he shakes his head, shooting you a sad little smile.

“Don’t be, I didn’t know them well. I kind of knew mom a bit, but they lived a certain lifestyle, while I was raised to be the leader of their family - shit a kid really shouldn’t be dealing with, shoved on me.” He rolls his shoulders a bit, the pout on his pretty face making your heart break. “I knew my role.”

“And there’s no like… getting out of it?” He shakes his head.

“The best I can do is have a good crew of men, and I do. I have my best friend Suguru, you know Sukuna and Toji too already. Choso also seems to be a good dude. Together we handle the shit, we keep people safe in our territory, I don’t mind that. What I mind is all the other shit, I hate fighting, even if I’m really fucking good at it.”

You run a thumb across his knuckles, roughened from likely many fights. “I get what it’s like to feel trapped. Not my whole life, but I get it.”

“I know you do, and I wish you didn’t.” He squeezes your hand now, and you give him a shaky little smile.

“You’ve made things so much better so quickly.” His cheeks tinge a bit pink, as if he’s uncomfortable with the praise.

“I just helped out.”

“No, it’s much more than that.” He sighs now, shrugging a broad shoulder as if all his actions were some mere trifle, and not already life altering. “Satoru, I was in a dark place before I met you.”

“Shit…” He swipes a tear that falls, pressing his lips against your hairline, holding you close against him.

“Very dark. Bad, Satoru, really bad. When I met you… everything brightened for me.” You keep blinking tears that fall off your lashes, he’s kissing them away as he holds you close, and the food starts coming out. Your lips kiss his neck as you hide your face for a moment, overwhelmed.

“Shh, it’s all okay. You’re fucking tired, I know.” You’re nodding, warm tears spilling against his skin, while he holds you even more tightly, before pulling back, the aromas of the delicious smelling food mixing with the salt in the air.

“I’m awake with you.” He sighs at that, smiling a bit.

“Let’s eat, hmm? You live off red bulls and ramen, I’m worried about you.”

“Hey it’s got lots of b vitamins, red bull you know, Mr. Snorts Coke off women.” He sticks his tongue out and you burst into a fit of laughs again, affection makes his heart ache at the sound, as he falls deeper so quickly.

There’s no avoiding the truth.

“I will only snort coke off you from now on. Did you think I would for anyone else?”

“You did off Sukuna’s girl.”

“Well I didn’t meet you yet. You’re so possessive!”

“Maybe.” He sighs now, taking a fork and a bite of food off the plate, placing it between your lips, you chew it thoughtfully, eyes fluttering shut in bliss.

“You’re all mad about Mei, mad I snorted coke off your friend, I’m expecting you to start swatting at the strippers soon.”

“Well, not until you’re actually my boyfriend.” Your voice is light, but then it’s there, the question, and you grow embarrassed quickly at yourself. “Satoru, I’m not rushing you into anything, please, it was just teasing.”

“You’re just staking your claim, it’s pretty hot, pookie.” You sigh in relief at the easy way he winks, unbothered - or so it seems - when in fact Satoru doesn’t think boyfriend really cuts.

He needs to be more than that.

The wind is gently blowing your hair around your face when he watches you sip on your wine, the soft light of the setting sun casting pinks and golds across your skin, and for a moment his breath catches, seeing your tired eyes light up, your pretty smile. It makes any and everything he’d have to do to protect you worth it, your giggle as you lean forward, a hand brushing across his thigh now, making him ache for you.

“This is beautiful, Satoru. Thank you so much for this.” Your lips press on his cheek, then the corner of his mouth, the salty sea spray mingling in the air with your perfume, heady and intoxicating.

He swallows a bit, arm wrapping around you now as the two of you sit at the table, food plated by the best chefs he could hire, on his own damn boat he bought for a date, but all you can focus on is him. In his pretty blue eyes, and the way the sun is casting shadows from behind him, illuminating his tall figure when he leans low, brushing a thumb across your cheek.

It’s warmed from the sun, but soon hot under his touch, his bright blue gaze that makes your heart pound. “It’s all worth it.” He murmurs quietly, he knows you don’t grasp his meaning fully, but you kiss him softly, drinking in his sighs, while his touch drifts to the small of your back.

Anything is worth your presence.

“This food looks amazing but I doubt I can pronounce it. It’s insane.” You say softly, eyeing the plates then, and he tries to hold back just lifting you on it, swiping every fancy dish across the wood planks beneath you, and eating you instead.

He doubts that will wait much longer, not with the glimpses of thigh from your high cut dress, not with the way that necklace is dangling precariously against your collarbone that he wants to litter with bites. He takes a breath, putting on an easy smile then. “I don’t either, I just asked for super fancy shit.”

You giggle at it, his sincerity, and he grins so boyish and charming, it melts your fucking heart. “I feel like you can’t be real, and it scares me.”

“Not real?” He frowns a bit, while you take a nibble of one of the perfectly set dishes, sighing as it hits your taste buds, nodding a bit. “What’s that mean?”

“Too good for me? More than I deserve? Too amazing-”

“The fuck?” He glares at you, gripping your chin now, snowy lashes lowering as you sit there, fork clattering from your hand.

“Sorry I-”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that. You fucking deserve everything. Okay?” You blink back emotions, words that shouldn’t spill yet but threaten to, taking a shaky breath and nodding.

“I’m just so tired, Satoru. I’m sorry.” He relaxes his grip, long elegant fingers dancing along your jaw, sighing now as the boat gently dashes through the water beneath you two, and for a moment he’d like it to carry you both away. Far the fuck away. “Thank you for everything, for every moment with me.”

“Don’t thank me for it, right now all I can think of is-” Your phone starts going off then, lighting up at the table, he frowns over at the name as you sigh, ignoring the call. “Your mom?”

“She’ll stop after a few, it’s for money.” You’re so used to this, it infuriates Satoru then, the next call he answers, before you can stop him, covering your mouth in shock, eyes wide as he casually answers.

“Your daughter is on a date, Mom. She can’t give you any money I’m afraid,” you hear her yelling and panicking, but he just sips on a glass of wine, winking at you, as if to tell you he’s got it. “I’ll make a deal, leave her alone all day and night, and I’ll give you some instead.”

“Don’t do that!” Your whisper is brushed off, as he smirks, and you can’t hear her voice anymore.

“Your daughter deserves a day where she’s not carrying all your fucking burdens, mmkay? Great, I’ll send that over tomorrow, meet you soon I’m sure.” He hangs up now, eyeing your shocked face with a shrug. “She’ll leave you alone for a bit.”

“You can’t just pay everyone to leave me alone, this is my mess, it’s-”

“It’s not your mess. You got stuck with hers. And baby Imma fix it all, okay?” He cups your face with both hands, and you’re ended, any resolve, or waiting for the right time, it all falls from your brain, replaced with one thing instead-

You need him.

You need him in every way.

You slam your lips on his then, hot and desperate, he exhales and drags your body against him, until he’s picked you up, sliding plates over and stepping between your thighs, feeling the heat of your needy cunt even over the layers of his pants and the dress he’s slipping up. You cry out against him when he bites the lower lip, the one you’ve bitten to hell, the pain sharp and sweet, soothing it with a swipe of his tongue.

“I need you, Satoru,” you whisper now, eyeing him with a dilated, lidded gaze, your little hands grabbing at his dress shirt, feeling the hammering of his heart against your palm. “Please.”

Who was he to deny you anything?

“You sure, because I will fuck you right on this table. That’s how you want our first time together?” He cooes those words like the sweetest taunt, slipping your dress up your thighs as his breath caresses your lips, swollen already and stinging from his kisses.

“Yes, I do. Please.” He moans now, lips back on yours, drinking in your cries while he slips your panties to the side, fingers slipping inside your tight little hole, your cunt pulses around his digits, already so wet and eager, you’re already convulsing, hand yanking on his skinny black tie, pulling him impossibly closer.

He’s ended by your sweet pleas, the way your mouth melds under his, cock throbbing and leaking precum against his boxers, he is losing control now, trying to wait, to give you time, but how can he anymore? He wants to carry you down to the bed, make love to you, but maybe that can wait, because he also wants to fuck you bent over on this goddamn table.

He does just that, yanking you down and shoving more things aside, bending you over the table so your legs just dangle, he hopes the men he’s paid to keep his boat running are smart enough to go the fuck away - they’re paid enough - as he gets to his knees, lapping you over your soaked panties. “Satoru!”

“Mmm, fuck…” He slides them off now, letting them fall to your ankles, tongue swiping up your sweet flavor, letting it pool on his tongue before standing, undoing his belt buckle, cock hanging heavy when he releases it, shoving your dress up your waist now. “I need you now, sweetheart,” he whispers, leaning over you, lips on your ear. “She ready f’me?”

You look back, as his cock teases your entrance, the tip alone touching your engorged clit and making your cunt just slip down him, along his length and between your soppy folds, pressing just so at your entrance. You both whine out as he does, achingly slow and teasing, as if giving you a moment to adjust, his hands on either side of you on the table, gripping the tablecloth beneath your body.

“Big stretch, sweets, f-fuck you’re so tight,” his breath is hot against your neck as he stretches you, the burn so fucking delicious your ass arches up for more, he’s just a couple inches in and already you’re feeling so full. He moans, softly, easing out and pressing back in, tip dragging your spot and making your eyes roll back. “Can she take me? You sure?”

“I can, I can, mnh! Gimme as s-sec…” He chuckles as if he’s not dying, as if he’s not beyond completely destroyed by the time his cock drags along your walls, gripping him so tight like a vise, trying to milk him before he’s even fucked you. He closes his eyes, long white lashes brushing your skin, drinking up your every cry, feeling every bit of your body.

“Ready for more, then? M’barely in, baby.” You gasp at that fact, not sure just how he’d get much more, his tongue laps up a bead of sweat on the side of your neck, cock sliding back out, your wetness pouring as he does, making the next thrust even deeper. “Hah- f-fuck, there another inch, huh? We’re half there.”

“Half!?” He chuckles again, letting you adjust, plates clattering with delicate and extravagant desserts, the wind blowing gently against your skin while Satoru’s scent hits your nose, his lips brushing against your neck.

“Thought you wanted it now, that you could take it? Can’t even take half my cock in your tiny little cunt, can you?” The duality of him, of his sweet kisses and devoted actions, with him now talking shit with his thick cock stretching you out is too much, your head falls back against him now, whines echoing out while your cunt spasms.

“I can take more, just… gimme a minute.” He sighs now, reaching around finding your engorged clit and running in circles, you scream out at it, not bothering to hide just how good it feels, legs shaking as he sinks deeper, impossibly deeper, and it starts to feel so good then. “Satoru!”

“That’s it, need your pretty little clit played with, don’t you?” He’s figuring your body out like he did that night when he devoured you, pulling back again until he’s just got the tip in, you whine out at it, he pushes all the way inside, slamming into your cervix now. “Oh fuck…”

“Mnh!” You’re done for when his fingers stop momentarily, he’s bottomed out as much as he can fit in your snug little hole, that’s trying to make him cum quick with every quiver, feeling his tip drooling on that cervix. “Satoru… please…”

Fuck, he was just frozen for a moment, he instantly snaps out of it, rolling his slender fingers on the twitchy clit now, pulling back and slamming again, rolling his hips just so and feeling you begin to shatter. “That’s it, let go f’me… lemme feel you cum all over my cock, baby - let go.”

“Ngh!” At his command you do, eyes shut as your head slams down on your own arms, hands clinging and ruining the pretty white cloth while you cum so hard your brain shuts the fuck down, all it is now is pleasure, it’s all Satoru, his cock inside while you’re gushing arousal, the orgasm rushing your body. “Ohmygod ohmy- ah!”

Your screams just urge him on, he lets you ride that out, finally removing his fingers and slipping them in your mouth. “Suck them, that’s it - such a good girl,” his murmurs are met with his cock sliding almost out again, as you suck on his fingers, tasting yourself, tangy and sweet. “Ready for me now?”

Ready for him!?

You want to ask what the fuck he even means when he starts thrusting mean in your cunt, stretching it out as he moves, fucking into you harder, faster, pistoning his hips so that you feel him every fucking where. “S-Satoru!”

“That’s it, look you’re taking me like you’re fucking made f’me.” He can’t help himself now, lost in you, bent over you and fucking you hard as one hand grips your thigh, lifting it even higher up on the table, hitting deeper, harder. “Feel me everywhere, don’t you?”

All you can do is weakly nod while the aftershocks pulse around the thick length piercing you so deep you can hardly breathe. He yanks out then, leaving you empty and whining out - Satoru flips you so fast you’re breathless, cupping your face and kissing your lips desperately. Your thighs press against either side of his narrow hips, those dark dress slacks slipping down his legs as his cock presses back against you.

“Wanna look at your pretty face,” his words are followed by his cock driving in your squelching cunt, cupping your face, his intense blue eyes devouring every inch of you he can see, yanking your dress down to reveal a breasts just a bit, brushing your nipple with his thumb while he shoves in again, stuffing you full. “Look at you, fuck you’re perfect.”

You want to say he is too, but you can’t form any words, not when he hits some angle that has you cumming again, white hot stars bursting behind your shut eyes when it hits. He watches you as you fall apart, words that shouldn’t be there yet at the tip of his tongue, he wants to explain them away while he watches you, while your hands grip his expensive jacket and your cunt grips his cock.

Your back arches, breasts spilling out of that top, mouth wide open in a slutty O as you scream out for him. “Fucking beautiful…” he murmurs, enamored by you, before shutting his own eyes, feeling how you’re so slick and hot for him, his balls smacking your ass while your panties still dangle off your heel, thrown over his hip.

“Satoru, mnh, s-so good, I… so much…” you’re nonsensical, slurring your words like you’re all fucked up from the finest liquor, and he can’t drag his eyes off you once they open again, the evening sky casting the prettiest glow on every perfect inch, gripping him so tight he can hardly hold out.

“One more time, hmm? Need one more from you, sweetheart, you can do it.” He encourages you, even though you’re already weak, dizzy, drooling from your mouth and your cunt. He slams into your cunt again, the wet messy sounds echoing even outside in the middle of the fucking sea, you’re so loud as you whine out, brows together, two little lines forming between them.

“T-too much,” he moans at your broken words, leaning lower, grabbing you by your hips and slamming his cock inside again, watching as you twitch under him, gasping for a breath. “Oh my g-god, fuck…”

“One more, just for me. M’close, she’s too fucking tight,” he presses a hot kiss to your nipple, sucking the peak into his mouth, feeling your body tense, one hand right on your tummy over your dress. “C’mon, one more for me.”

You nod weakly, overstimulated and falling off the edge, while Satoru groans and buries his face against your neck, inhaling your scent when he bottoms out, tip leaking so much pre it’s filling you with his warmth. His soft white hair right above his cock tickles your clit again when he rolls his hips, teeth sinking into the delicate skin on your neck and urging you on more.

You feel too much when he pulls back, lips glossed from his saliva, his blue eyes just looking at you that way, the way that makes you feel too beautiful, too special, too fucking much. So much your breath catches, you pause and falter, hands slipping up to cup his face, as words of deep feelings threaten to spill for a man you have only known for a short time.

But how can you not feel it?

“Cum inside me, please,” you whisper instead, and he pauses himself, snowy lashes blinking rapidly, exhaling against your kiss swollen lips now, his cock pulsing as he’s at the edge of spilling. “If you want, I’m on the pill s’okay, but if you-”

Satoru cuts you off with a brutal kiss, cumming inside you was something he could only fucking dream of, and you’re begging for it. Once again, who the fuck was he to deny anything you asked for?

“I’ll give you anything, baby,” he knows it’s vulnerable to say, but it falls from his lips. He brushes your hair back, watching two little tears slip as you cry out, while he lifts your hip up with his free hand, slamming into you again, seeing your eyes roll back into your skill. “Anything you ask for.”

His words barely register, when he’s pumping you full of white hot ropes of cum, groaning against your ear, and you’re filled with him then, so intimate in that moment, coating your walls and pooling down his cock with the pressure of your muscles gripping his cock again. He whines out softly, before kissing you again, hands shaking even as he tries to grip you, pumping his still hard cock in and out.

So much cum, it’s already swirling around his veiny cock with your shimmery arousal in strings and drips, messy and filthy, when he leans up and looks at you again, and you both just look, eyes locked, lips parted. He slides in slow, achingly slow, relishing in every bit of how your pretty body writhes on that table, as your hands grip and loosen the grip again, your whimpers filling his mind.

“Fuck,” he exhales, resting his head on yours now, feeling the sweat on your brow, as your aftershocks keep milking him more and more, and he’s fucking spent. He has never felt this, whatever the fuck this is, beyond a perfect, pretty cunt, beyond busting inside you that deep.

It was more, so much more, so much it takes his breath.

Resisting the urge to spill far, far too much too quickly, he kisses you instead, and you meet his lips, brush for brush, kiss for kiss, tongues dancing while he picks your head up gently off the table, resting his hand under it, gripping now messy locks of hair. He keeps littering your neck and collar bone with kisses, keeps gripping your body everywhere he can, keeps whispering your name.

God he can never get enough of you now.

He knew it would be phenomenal, but he didn’t expect to feel all of this, and the worry sets in - would you feel the same? - but your drunk, dilated eyes that fill with tears should be his answer. “Are you okay, was I too rough, sweetheart?”

“No, it was just so intense… I… fuck I’ve never felt anything like…” You’re trailing off too, and he exhales in relief, peppering little kisses as he helps you sit up, sliding his cock out of you with a wet squelch. You eye the aftermath, blushing furiously.

“You’re messy, y’know, so messy, tsk.” Satoru’s long fingers brush against your abused little hole, making you hiss at the contact, a sadistic smile dancing across otherwise sweet lips. “You’re a mess f’me, huh?”

“You’re insane, you know, look at all the mess you made!” You gesture around weakly, and he chuckles again, kissing you and slipping up his boxers and pants, belt unbuckled while he adjusts your dress, helping you down carefully.

“You wanted it right now. Needy little brat.”

“Excuse me, you’re needy!” He glares playfully, helping you onto wobbly legs, you have to wrap an arm around his waist, knowing how sore you’re going to be tomorrow already.

“Can’t even walk, poor baby.”

“You’re kind of an ass, huh?”

“Just figuring that out?” He brushes your hair back, sweet kisses defying his words, you sigh at how good it feels in his arms, as he holds you against him. “I bought some clothes for you, wanna get more comfy?”

“How do you know my size?” He leans back, eyeing your body with vivid blue eyes, like a caress as they move across your skin.

“I’ve observed your body very well,” you get flustered again, burying your face against his chest, and he laughs softly. “You ask me to cum inside and then get nervous I bought some clothes?”

“You’ve spent enough money, jesus, Satoru.” He shrugs, rubbing your back while you hold onto him tightly.

“I’m filthy fucking rich, sweetheart, why not spend some of it on you?”

“But who am I to you - all this is…. Too much and…”

“Shh.” He tilts your chin up with two fingers, your eyes meeting his once more, drowning in him. “I enjoy this, and I haven’t… enjoyed anything in a while.”

His soft words fill you with an ache inside so deep, knowing he too was in a dark place, you can feel it, and you hate it for him, lip trembling as you cup his face, and his eyelashes flutter shut. “I’m here for you too, no I have no boats or money. Not even any cocaine,” he snorts at that, and you smile softly. “But I have me, and I’m here, for however long you want to enjoy me.”

“Don’t promise all of that,” his husky whisper almost plunges you right over that deep end, when he presses you against the table he’d just had you bent over, cunt still throbbing and now it’s leaking his cum. “What if I never let you leave?”

“Then I’ll be your captive,” you tease softly. “You’d look hot in a pirate hat.”

“Oh yeah, would I now?” You nod and giggle again, but the words are out there in the universe - that you have no intentions of leaving his side. Fuck you’d promise forever if you didn’t know that’s batshit insane.

You’ve never felt more right than in Satoru’s arms.

“Maybe I’m like a little pest, you won’t be able to get rid of me.” He shakes his head, throat closing up a bit as he holds you back against him, feeling the rapid beats of your pulse on his thumb as it runs across your neck, hearing your little sigh of pleasure as he repeats the action.

“I think we both know that’s bullshit.” His voice is just a little hoarse, you snuggle closer, little buttons of his dress shirt brushing on your nose.

“Y-you said you had some comfy clothes?”

“Mmhmm,” he’s pulling back now, so much left unspoken as he takes your hand in his. “C’mon, we’ll both get something comfier on. I figured we could just crash here for the night, if you want.”

“Fuck yes I want, god getting out of that house for the night, and with you…” you trail off again, as he smiles just a bit, leading you down the steps again into the little room inside. The bed keeps calling to you as if saying you’re going to sleep in his arms tonight.

That’s something you’ve never done.

But it’s also something Satoru’s never done.

“There’s a bathroom right in there if you wanna freshen up.” You smile thankfully, slipping on the soft shirt and shorts he’d picked out, coming back out to see him dressed casually for the first time.

You’ve literally only seen him in three piece suits, cufflinks worth more than your car, and a watch probably worth your damn house, always sleek and perfect, there’s something sweet about him in a soft gray sweater hanging just a bit off a shoulder, showing a bit of his strong chest and sharp collarbones. Your breath catches a bit, taking him in slowly as he does the same to you.

“Those sweats, they’re slutty.” You tease, and he looks down at the soft white sweats in question, lips quirked up.

“You calling me slutty? Miss - cum in me please-” You smack a hand on his mouth, as if now you care if someone hears, and he just chuckles, grabbing your wrist, thumb rushing across the little veins there.

“You liked it, came so much.” He raises a thin brow then, leaning low, so low, his sweet breath dancing along your lips as you inhale and exhale slowly.

“You’re talking shit, huh? That’s cute.” He picks you up before you can blink, and you’re thrown right on that bed, his fingers slipping the shorts aside, finding you again, soaking already, curling his fingers wickedly. “Are you sore? Aw, poor sweet cunt, can she not take dick?”

“Are you an asshole or not!? Insane ass… mnh, Satoru!” He laughs a bit, easing his fingers out, coated in the remnants of his cum and your slick, sucking the two of you right off - cheeks hollowing while you watch with wide eyes, cunt reacting already, needing more, even though you’re so sore. “Satoru, you’re so freaky.”

“I’ve been very vanilla with you, actually.” His words make you blink in confusion, but before you can process what he means he has his face back down between your thighs, tongue lapping inside you so deep. Your hands tug at his silvery strands, screaming out, hips bucking up against his hot mouth.

“Satoru!” You’re yanking so hard it hurts, and his cock is already pressing against the firm mattress of the big captain’s bed, as he tastes just how perfect his cum is pouring out of your cunt.

“Mmm, fucking taste us, sweets,” he whispers, nipping at your clit with sharp teeth, two fingers opening your mouth for him to spit right inside it, you almost choke from your gasp, and he groans as you do, remembering how you felt choking right on his cock. “Swallow it, be good f’me.”

You do just that, swallowing his spit down, and he’s desperately kissing you again, messy and hungry, yanking your shorts aside as he slips his sweats down, that blushing pink tip already pouring white sticky cum from the slit, feeling your hips jerk as it bumps your engorged clit. You’re whining out hoarsely, body shifting underneath him, your cunt slicker and slicker with every press and tease.

“Hold these to the side.” His gruff order is quickly met, you tug your shorts over, and he’s pressing back in, you whine out at how sore it is, yet the pain just makes it even sweeter, while he sinks inside you. “Fuck, god look at you, you’re all beat up from my cock, aren’t you?”

You just swallow and nod nervously, still tasting him on your tongue, while his eyes darken, pupils blown the fuck out like he’s on the finest powder, he hovers over you, your hands slip under his sweater, feeling his body slowly. He pulls back again, as you’re slipping up his shirt, dying to see more of his body, revealing the lines and divots of his perfect abdomen as you look down at his body.

“Answered you a question, sweetheart.” His commanding tone shoots your eyes back up, his tip just pressing in your tight ring of muscles and staying there, when you’re begging for more, nails pressing against the hard muscles of his back.

“Yes, I am. Sore,” your sweet whisper has him moaning, he leans over you, cock pulling almost fully out once more. “You like me hurting from your cock? Do you want me to hurt?”

“Fucking…” He lets out a shaky breath and you see it, his fingers itching to squeeze your throat, you take his hand and put it right on your neck, gripping his wrist tightly. “Not to really hurt, I still want it to feel good, baby.”

“I do feel good, so good, and… I want to.” He kisses you firmly before he thrusts fully in one stroke, and you struggle to take him even after being stretched out, even being soaking wet, crying out weakly as his hand tightens slowly.

“Tap me if it’s too much, okay?” You nod and he squeezes harder, pulling back and slamming his cock inside you again, your cry blocked and melded into a weak gasp as your mind gets fuzzy. “Look at this pretty little neck, you’re all mine, aren’t you?”

He needs it, you feel it, how he moves, harder thrusts hitting and slapping so deep, all while he pins you down, one hand pressing on the tummy where his cock is bulging, the other on your throat, all that weight on you, making you feel enwrapped by him. Your ears start buzzing, so much better than the teasing in the car, as a drop of sweat falls down his brow onto your cheek.

He moans at the sight, lost in you, inside you, on you, all around you - it’s just Satoru Gojo, shoving in deep and bracing himself on one arm while you feel your orgasm building again. You’re gasping as he chokes harder, pressure increasing until you nearly black out while you cum for him, seeing double and feeling like you’re floating while it rocks through you.

Your hands grip his wrist, riding it out with a desperate squeak when he releases it, and you’re gasping for breaths, greedy for the air to fill your lungs, only for his kisses to sap the rest of the air in the room. “S-Satoru…” Your voice is hoarse, his handprint around his neck, making him harder, more desperate at the sight, losing the last shreds of control he has.

“You good baby?” His soft whisper hits your still ringing ears, and you nod, dragging him down by his loose sweater for another kiss, as he presses so deep, laying on top of you, cock rocking just right against your every spot. “Fuck, m’gonna fill you up so much, gonna have to take a break from work.”

“What? You’re so- ah!” He’s leaned up again, pressing your thighs so high then, kissing along your inner thighs and calves as he holds them up, tugging at your shorts to keep them aside.

“Want it all in you, don’t you? Slutty for me, just me?”

“Just y-you - ah!” Satoru pounds into your cunt, smacks echoing in the room as he does, fucking one load completely out just to pump another, you’re lost in it, consumed by him, cumming right with him until you’re weak, so weak you’re not making noise, just little mewls from your throat.

“Fuck, feel you, so full huh?” He presses your tummy again, wild thoughts rushing through his head - babies inside you - fuck his babies.

He shakes the thought off, he’s certainly a man who is into many kinks, but breed kink was never one - in fact he actively made sure he’d never have kids with any of the many women under him. But you? He can see it now, and it makes his cum spurt out even more, your mouth open wide as you’re clinging to him, cunt milking his cock like she just wants him to put babies in her.

So lost in insane thoughts - in wild love declarations he can’t say.

What if he was too much?

All while you’re so cock drunk you murmur - ‘think I’m in love, shit’

He pauses, blinking then, and you realize your folly, covering your mouth with wide eyes. “You said… what?”

“Nothing, fuck.” He sighs, sliding in with a still hard cock - how was this man just hard after cumming!?

“Nothing?” He teases, stroking again, watching your jaw tense and quiver as your eyes shut, and your head falls back.

“Ignore me please.”

“I’ll never ignore you.” Your eyes open and he’s far too close, blue eyes swirling like storms in the sky, while the cabin darkens completely, you register it must be nightfall now barely. “What’d you say?”

“Crazy shit.” You kiss him instead, and he lets you live your delusion for now, while your pulse flutters so quickly. “Mnh, okay I kinda hurt.”

“Shit,” he eases out and you wince, brows knitting together. “Too rough?”

“No, no I liked it. I’m just not used to… anything like that. At all.” He leans down and presses a kiss as a little apology, his breath alone making you twitch and whine out again.

“Sorry, pretty.” He’s whispering to your cunt, you giggle then, breathless as he eyes you, slipping your shorts back.

“You talking to my pussy?”

“Fuck yeah, she loves me.” You hear the taunt in his voice, feel your flustered self flush under his serious gaze.

Who was Satoru Gojo?

Sweet, silly, fun?

Freaky, filthy, rough?

Devious, teasing, brilliant?

You just know one thing, you’re falling off the deep end - feelings so intense it’s brutal not to spill, but you’re so terrified of letting go and trusting someone completely. But you do trust him, you feel safe, when he kisses across your brow now, murmuring your name so sweetly.

“C’mon, let’s have a drink and go look at the water.”

“I need help.” He chuckles, clearly self pleased, easing you up, he carefully cleans you up first, taking a pony tail and gathering your hair after trying to brush away the mess. “Well now you’ll have to do that all the time.”

“Brush your hair? Of course I will.” He’s so sweet then you melt, something so simple he doesn’t realize how much it means, pressing a little kiss on your head before grabbing one of the fleece blankets and heading up.

Soon the two of you are watching the pretty water, the moon reflecting on the ripples below, the boat is heading back to the dock for the night, you see the city lit up in the distance while he wraps a blanket around you, holding you over the soft fleece. You exhale at the peace, at how perfect it is, just waiting for everything to break or shatter, to wake up.

“You’re quiet,” he muses softly, both of you leaning against the railing now. You look back up at him, and he cups your face, as the cool night air brushes past, and the moonlight casts shadows on the planes of his handsome face. “Everything okay?”

“I’m waiting to wake up from this dream,” your words hurt him, the way your voice breaks, your lip quivering. “It’s too perfect.”

“It’s real, okay?” You nod, turning and letting him hold you, while he rests his chin on your head, staring out into the night, seeing in the distance arcs of dolphins slicing through the water. “Hey, look!”

“Hmm?” You turn and he points, and then you see them closer, their gray fins in the air, making you light up, bouncing up and down. “Oh my god!?”

“There’s a bunch of them too.” He leans forward, big arms wrapped back around you while the two of you study them, enamored.

“I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“Never?”

“No. Satoru… I can’t swim.”

“What!?” You just nod and he laughs softly. “You didn’t even tell me and we’re in the middle of the sea.”

“I figured you’ll save me.” He smiles softly, burying his face against your neck, inhaling you then. “You already have.”

“Give me too much credit. I still have work to do on that debt.” His heart hurts at your sigh, peeking back to see the dolphins going further in the distance of the pretty clear water.

“You’ve already done more for me than anyone ever has, and I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you enough.” You turn again, and he sees the streaks of tears on your cheeks glittering in the moonlight, he gently brushes them aside, swallowing down his own emotions at the sight. “But I’ll keep thanking you, in every way I can.”

“You never need to thank me. I just want you to get some fucking sleep and eat a good meal.” You giggle through your tears now.

“You clattered all our food to the floor.”

“Shit. I did.” You both laugh softly, and he kisses you right on the bow of the boat as it gently moves through the night.

You know tomorrow brings reality - the trouble you’re in is helped and halted but far from over, but for now you melt into his arms, losing yourself in him again, again, and again, until the two of you are spent, exhausted. Until you can’t even move, covered in slick sheens of sweat, falling out exhausted into an embrace that feels perfect, when you finally sleep, his last thoughts are prevalent -

How to keep you here, and keep you safe.

And he’ll do whatever he needs to do.

A/N- So sorry this took almost two months! As someone who ALWAYS tries to keep her fics 2-4 wks per, sometimes with a ton of wips one won't click for me for a bit. And this was that one. Thanks for those who waited patiently, the next few chaps should not be so long of a wait now that I have my direction! If you enjoyed I'd love to see your comments and thoughts on our sweet lil Mob Gojo <3

taglist 1 - @thejujvtsupost @moonchu @thikcems @yenayaps @luvmichu @antisocialinlw @sukunadckrider @gojoslefttoenail @genticcs @sukuxna0 @saitamaswifey @monster-effer @gradmacoco @bounie1 @bestelizabeth1 @alygator77 @arabellasolstice @naina326 @1satoruu @satorusaysiloveyou @feliaeae @jkslaugh97 @nerdybouquetofkittens-blog @simp-plague @ladyneisa @distractionforyourthoughts @erintaro @ninikrumbs @yesdere @stargirl-mayaa @wstaley2 @just-lilita @lady-of-blossoms @genshingeeksworld @yaoishipper19 @angryflowerwitch @strawberrysluttt @emochosoluvr @bluebrry05 @trishiepo0 @gina239 @bunheadusa @hazelll-trisk @simperisksksk @jud3thedude @breadsbasket @shhhhhhxoxo125 @gojosoups @starpachinko

#satoru x reader #satoru gojo #jjk x reader #gojo smut #gojo x reader #jujustu kaisen #jjk gojo #gojo satoru x you #satoru smut #gojo satoru smut #satoru x female reader #satoru gojo x female reader #gojo x f!reader #jjk smut #divider by cafekitsune #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader

722 notes · View notes

cinnamorollcrybaby · 2 days ago

Text

To love me better

Tags: Yakuza Lord!Sukuna x fem!Reader, american!Reader, forced/arranged marriage, dark romance trope, dead dove, age gap romance (reader is around 21-22, Sukuna is 37), cursing, suggestive language, use of nicknames like “doll”, use of y/n, NSFW, MDNI, Sukuna is his own warning.

Synopsis: Yakuza Lord!Sukuna owns all of entertainment district. You’re trying to work to put yourself through law school. He has a proposition for you, and you have one for him. Chaos ensues.

An: Professor Higuruma has entered the chat. I’m sorry this part is a little short, but if I included the next scene in this part, it would be WAY too long.

Part one. | Part two. | Part three. |

*art creds for sukuna image goes to @.maru6 here on tumblr

You’re starting to believe that you dreamt the whole marriage negotiation with Sukuna.

It had been nearly a week since he sat you down in his office, and he’s been radio silence ever since. So, maybe you dreamt it all, or perhaps he decided against the whole marriage thing. If that was the case, you needed to start looking for other jobs.

Your Friday afternoons were reserved for Higuruma’s criminal law class. You sat at your desk, typing away on your computer that your student loan paid for. It was second-hand from a different girl who had just passed her bar exam. Her parents bought her the newest MacBook on the market as a present.

When you passed your bar exam, you’d probably buy yourself a two thousand yen cake from the grocery store. Maybe you’ll even splurge and spend five thousand yen on an ice cream cake.

You halfway hear your professor assign a plethora of readings spanning from case files to different codes of law.

"It's a good thing C's get degrees, huh?" a sheepish playful voice whispers from beside you. Your eyes glance over towards the guy next to you. You're able to immediately recognize him as Yuji Itadori.

Before Sukuna, you only took notice of Yuji since he tried to make friends with everyone, regardless of social status. Even if you've barely spoken with him, you feel a sort of kinship with him.

Now, your eyes immediately fix on his soft pink hair. While Sukuna's felt more like a dusty rose color. Yuji's was brighter -- untainted from crime.

"Is a C going to help you pass your bar exam though?" you whisper back softly, giving him a smile.

"You're so cruel~" Yuji softly whines as he dramatically slumps back into his chair. You quietly laugh from his theatric display. "And here I thought you'd be so kind and offer to help me study..."

You glance back towards him before scanning everyone else in the lecture. The majority of the other students were dutifully taking notes.

"Uh... why me?" You ask, cocking your eyebrow at the male before you realized how rude that probably sounded. "I mean, why would you ask me for that? Wouldn't you be better off asking the top performers in our class?"

"One of those pretentious jerks? Give me a break," Yuji rolls his eyes as he leans towards you. He's not too close to make you uncomfortable, just close enough to whisper without disturbing anyone. "Besides, you seem nice. Also, we sit beside each other everyday. Aren't those good enough reasons?"

Before you could even think to reply, Higuruma addressed the entire class. It was the end of the lecture period.

“Alright everyone, please remember to have a safe weekend and to stay out of trouble,” Professor Higuruma says from the forefront of the class. Students immediately begin to gather their belongings and shuffle out of the lecture hall.

"Let me know what you decide next week!" Yuji said as he rushed out of the door like he couldn't get away from the academic setting fast enough.

You finish up a few quick edits on your notes before saving them and promptly sliding your laptop into your bag. You thought about checking your phone to see if Sukuna had left you any cryptic messages, but you decided against it. It’s not like you were desperate or anything.

“Ah, Y/n, do you mind staying for a bit? I would like a word with you,” Higuruma’s voice spoke up. He wasn’t nearly as loud as he could be while lecturing.

Your body tenses as you slowly pull your messenger bag over your shoulder. “Sure…” you respond hesitantly.

He knows. He knows that you’re practically engaged to a yakuza lord. He knows that you’ve been dancing dangerously close to sin at Malevolent Mass. He’s going to report you to student affairs. He’s—

Your mind swirls with all of your thoughts Your brain was running so fast you could barely keep up.

The last student leaves the lecture hall, and you can hear the soft sounds of the second hand ticking from the clock mounted to the wall.

Your steps are slow and calculated. Higuruma was at his desk, collecting papers into his bag. He then looked up at you and gave you a calm, fond smile.

You try to ease your weary heart, telling yourself that he’d look much less happy if he had caught onto you.

"I apologize. I'm sure you must be busy," he starts out as he finishes packing up his bag. He straightened his posture, having to look down at you now that he wasn't hunched over. "I wanted to just touch base with you about your paper."

"Oh okay," you inwardly let out a huge sigh of relief, but your curiosity soon resurfaced. "What about my paper?"

"Don't worry. It was a great paper, y/n. I have read summations from licensed attorneys that pale in comparison to your paper." You narrow your eyes at him, feeling a gnawing sensation of anxiety sink in.

"But..?" you prompt.

Higuruma gives a knowing smile, appreciative of your inquisitive nature. "But I was wondering what made you write about spousal privilege... The last I checked you were looking to be civil litigation attorney -- not a criminal defense attorney. So, why would you want to research something like spousal privilege?"

You swallow thickly. You had found interest in spousal privilege due to your arrangement with Sukuna. Spousal privilege allowed for wives and husbands to refuse to testify against their spouse if it would indict their spouse on any crime. There were specifications on this law, and there were certain instances were spousal privilege couldn't be upheld. Overall, Japan looked to uphold the sanctity of marriage, and you looked to uphold your image by not being called to testify against your husband one day.

"Oh... I just found it to be interesting. I think it's good for all attorneys to be well-rounded, right?" you finally respond, giving your best attempt at bluffing the criminal defense attorney Hiromi Higuruma.

"You're most certainly right." He places his messenger bag on his shoulder. "I was just looking forward to you switching majors. It'd be a pleasure to steal one of Kento Nanami's best proteges."

You feel your face warm from his overzealous compliment. You were definitely not one of Nanami's best students. Still, you enjoyed the praise.

"I'm sorry to disappoint," you give a small laugh, consciously making an effort to joke with him naturally.

“Disappoint? No, no, you impress me.” His eyes meet yours, and for the first time since starting school, you see him for who he is. He had been nothing but kind, patient, and nurturing. He cared a lot about the subject he taught, and he tried his hardest to help his students learn.

Criminal defense attorneys get a bad wrap for being arrogant and pretentious to a degree, and that’s not exactly a lie either. You’ve seen Higuruma in court before. You know his persona can overwhelm a courtroom easily with his confidence.

“I really appreciate that, Mr. Higuruma.” You drop his gaze, letting your eyes rest upon the floor as a small smile curled up on your lips.

“You can call me Hiromi when we’re not in class,” Higuruma said as he walked towards the door. He held his hand out for you to follow him. “Well, if you ever have any doubts about civil law, please let me be the first to know. I’d love to have you on the criminal law side.”

You follow beside him closely, and you feel a warmth rush your cheeks as Hiromi hovers his hand over the small of your back. He wasn’t exactly touching you, but you could feel him there — guiding you.

“I promise I’ll come to you first if I ever want to betray Mr. Nanami,” you laugh softly, but your mind is racing, wondering where he was guiding you.

Coincidentally enough, a tall muscular figure with blonde hair was walking towards you two in the hall. “Who’s betraying me?” Nanami asked as he walked closer towards you and Hiromi.

Your eyes flicker back and forth between Nanami, Hiromi, and the girl who was standing beside Nanami. You took a moment, trying to place her here as a student, but you came up short.

“Stop trying to steal my students away from me,” Nanami lightheartedly scolded Hiromi with an eye roll.

“It’s not stealing if she decides to leave civil law on her own volition. I’m simply showing her the good side to law,” Hiromi responded. You feel your back arch a bit underneath his touch as his hand rested against your back now with more casualty.

“Ah yes, the good side. Also known as the side who gets troublemakers off the hook. Don’t forget, y/n. Civil law is all about holding people accountable. Criminal law is about being the least accountable,” Nanami said with a calm smile. Your eyes wandered towards Nanami’s hand, noticing it was also placed on the young woman’s back. What was going on here?

“Alright. That’s enough from you,” Hiromi warmly laughed. It was a laugh that put your nerves at ease. Still, your skin crawled where his hand was placed. Your mind flashed back to the club, remembering how it felt when Sukuna had his hand in that exact spot, guiding you to his office.

Sukuna’s touch oddly felt like a warm security blanket, while Hiromi’s touch felt like static electricity building. You knew you were about to get shocked.

“Miss Nanami, it’s always good to see you.” Hiromi bowed slightly with respect. You feel the weight of realization set in on you. That was Nanami’s wife who he was touching like that.

“You as well,” Nanami’s wife responded fondly.

“Alright. Let’s go, Destinee, before Hiromi also tries to indoctrinate you into some sort of criminal law degree.”

Hiromi merely laughed before guiding you away from Nanami and his wife. You felt your heart start to thud in your chest. Where was he leading you?

“You don’t have any other classes today, do you?” Hiromi asked as he looked to his side. He had to crane his neck downwards to look at you thanks to the size difference.

You bit your lip slightly out of nervous habit, wondering if you should lie to him. His hand felt heavy on your back, and a weird sensation of guilt was pooling in your stomach. You weren’t even exactly committed to Sukuna yet since you hadn’t signed whatever contract, but you two have a verbal agreement.

You had already begun to feel some sort of loyalty to the yakuza lord, and maybe that was because you knew he wouldn’t take seeing Hiromi’s hand on you lightly.

Still, you reminded yourself that your professor hadn’t done anything wrong yet. The hand on your back could be seen as a supportive touch. Perhaps he didn’t know how he was coming off right now.

“No, I was going to use the rest of today to write a paper for my economics class,” you say finally after a beat of silence.

“Aren’t you such a good student? Are you struggling in any of your classes?” he asked as he reached out and opened up the door for you. Your eyes blinked as you had to adjust to the afternoon sun beating down.

Maybe he was just walking with you out towards the parking lot. You quirked an eyebrow as you realized this was the staff parking lot though. Your dorm was in the complete opposite direction.

“Uh.. well, not really..” you replied sheepishly, trying to soothe your nerves. This just kept getting worse and worse by the second. “My lowest grade this semester is copyright law.”

“Mmph, yeah, that one is unnecessary tedious. You’ll rarely work on cases of copyright infringement,” Hiromi nodded thoughtfully. “Listen, I know it’s easy to get caught up with being a law student, so I was wanting to know if you wanted to grab a bite to eat together. We can chat about whatever you want whether it be about school or—“

A loud roar of an engine and tires squealing into the parking lot completely cut Hiromi off. You instinctively jumped back a little out of fear that the car was going to ram right into you.

A car that didn’t even look like it belonged on regular civilian streets came to halt right in front of where you and Hiromi were standing. The engine purred lowly as it sat idly in the parking lot.

Hiromi furrowed his eyebrows as he stared at the car. No professor had the money to afford a Maserati GT2 Stradale.

Your eyes admired the car in front of you. In all of your time of living, you had never had the luxury of seeing such a car. It was completely blacked out, but in the direct sun, a subtle deep red tint shined through. It was flip painted. It was your saving grace — your prince charming. The license plate on the front read, R. SUKUNA.

The butterfly car door opened upwards, and you held your breath. You had never been more happy to see Sukuna in your life, yet you also felt confused. How did he get into the staff parking lot..? It was guarded by security.

Slowly, your future husband stepped out of the car, rolling up the sleeves to his black button-up top. Even while you were outside, Sukuna’s dominating presence filled the air.

“Can I help you, sir?” Higuruma asked, his face hardening at Sukuna. You wondered what he must be thinking about all this. Did Hiromi know about Sukuna’s status? He is a defense attorney, so it’s not completely out of the realm of possibility.

“No, but she can,” Sukuna gave a feline grin as he held out his hand and curled his finger towards himself, beckoning for you to come with him.

You took a deep breath, knowing that you really couldn’t refuse Sukuna. Also, you didn’t want to know what getting dinner with Hiromi would lead to.

“Ah, I’m sorry. Maybe a rain check?” you said as you gave a polite smile up towards your professor. His eyebrows furrowed, mouth slightly agape as he looked down at you.

As soon as you went to peel yourself from his side, Higuruma suddenly grasped your arm. It wasn’t enough to hurt you, but it was firm enough to stop you dead in your tracks.

“You can tell me if you don’t feel safe with him. You can give me some sort of nonverbal cue..” his voice was low enough for only you to hear. You were briefly taken aback by Hiromi’s kindness, but you also found it ironic how you felt less safe when it was just you and him.

“I’m fine.”

Sukuna watched interaction, and he cocked an eyebrow. He felt an unfamiliar tight feeling in his chest. The thought of him untucking his gun from where it was concealed in his waistband crossed his mind briefly, but he decided against it quickly. It would cause too much of a scene. Too many variables.

“Hiromi Higuruma, is it?” Sukuna asked, but he already knew the answer. “The famous criminal defense attorney who spends his free time teaching other future aspiring attorneys. How kind of you.”

“That’s me. I’ll ask again. Can I help you?” Hiromi’s hand hadn’t unwrapped from your arm yet. His jaw was tight as his dark eyes looked at Sukuna with suspicion.

“You can start by letting go of my wife.” Sukuna said as he took a step closer. His hands were shoved in his pockets, giving off a confident display. You could see the curvature of his muscles bulging through his shirt as if he didn’t already look big enough.

Hiromi’s eyes slightly widened as he looked down at you. All of the admiration and praise had melted from his gaze. You felt your heart drop to your stomach. It was as if you had disappointed him in some form or capacity.

He silently let go of your arm, conceding in the battle with Sukuna over you. “Nonverbal cue,” he muttered to you, still cautious that you’re maybe being forced to do this.

Little does he know, you’re the one who proposed marriage to Sukuna.

You walked straight towards Sukuna, not daring to look back at Hiromi as you didn’t think you could handle the look on his face.

Sukuna immediately enveloped your smaller body in his arms, giving you a hug that could only be described as a hug that a husband gives his wife. He had to lean down to fully hold onto you. You shivered as his nose and lips just barely brushed against the crook of your neck.

Your arms could barely wrap around him, hugging him back to fulfill the facade of being a happy wife. Your face was tucked into his chest, and his cologne assaulted your nose. His scent was deep and heavy with notes of cedar wood, leather, and tobacco.

Despite this being a facade, it felt safe and secure. Nothing could touch you right now.

In all of his time of working with accused criminals, Hiromi had never felt true fear until Sukuna’s eyes met his while he looked over your shoulder. He could practically see the red hues of Sukuna’s eyes darken as he stared him down. Hiromi could feel Sukuna marking you as his territory. It felt like time stood still for everyone.

“Let’s go, sweetheart. I have reservations for us,” Sukuna’s dark gravely voice broke the silence, and Hiromi watched as Sukuna placed his hand on your hip, guiding you over to the passenger side seat. He opened the door for you and made sure you were settled before shutting you in.

Sukuna shot one last glare in Hiromi’s direction before he got into the driver’s side and sped off.

Hiromi let out a deep sigh. How did such a pretty young student like you get caught up in this? His fingers came up, and he pinched the bridge of his nose as he pulled out his cellphone. He had to report this, even if it put you as risk.

It took several rings for the phone to pick up. “Yeah?”

“Gojo? Sukuna was just at the school. He was heading north.”

The other end of the line promptly went dead.

Taglist: @theuniversesnepobaby @lizatonix @starmapz @everywonuu @totallygyomeiswife @sukubusss @depressiondiaries @t4naiis @hishearttohave @soraya-daydreams @lulunx @s-1-xx @el-lise @prettyngeto @marifujioka @iheartlinds @gina239 @actuallynarii @shxyxyxxxx @krispycreamepie @emoedgylord @nina-from-317 @pandabiene5115 @paintedperidot @dissociativewriter @lmaoshush @ninani-nanina @sadrna @boisenberry77 @tojifush @erwinawesomeness @meanwhilesomewhereelse @safasz @kassfunk19 @moncher-ire @gradmacoco @riahlynn-102 @diduzzula @juiceeypeach

527 notes · View notes

thewritingfairy · 2 days ago

Text

↪ 11. Something is wrong

PREV PART trigger warning: medical + physical + emotional neglect, 'humor' filler chapter (not my best chapter), the Penguin makes an appearance, shouting, cursing main m.list series m.list

You feel suspicious, you can’t help it. Not only is Damian following you around like a chick would follow their mother, Duke has moved in but is acting strange towards your family. The tension between them higher then you have ever felt, however you’re also being followed (not that you told Duke, he would absolutely try to find whoever is following you and try to fight them. And you would like to keep him alive) to your work and back.

For example, you sneaked out of your room and now you’re walking to your work plus being followed. “You know,” you say as you turn around, stopping a street before you arrive at the restaurant. “if you want something, you can just ask. But I would prefer it if you didn’t stalk me to my work.”

When no one came out of the trees or make themselves clear to you you just sigh, adjusting your uniform to sit just right as you continue your walk. This time you saw your mysterious supervisor at the door and when you pass him you say; “I’m being followed, look up on your left.”

He says nothing, but you can see his eyes narrow and harden. You’re correct, you’re being followed, and it’s not a friend of your boss. Matter of fact, it’s someone he must hate. Because just 2 hours in your shift you’re called to the back by your supervisor, and there he is. Cobblepot, but he’s here as the Penguin. He has to be with that look in his eyes, he looks like he’s about to rip a head off and you just hope it isn’t yours.

“Mx. (Last name),” he greets you, his eyes heavy with contempt. But not for you, no never you. The person who had brought normal civilians into his establishment by being so open, by gushing over the working conditions, strengthening his front. You’re a great employee, beyond expectations, all without breaking the law. “you’re being followed by Nightwing.”

A groan leaves your mouth, you couldn’t help it. You had heard he was back in town, but to think he’s following you? Now that just pisses you off. “Why me,” you whine, making it clear that you are quite pissed. “if he doesn’t stop I’m calling the cops on him.”

Your supervisor laughs behind his hand, obviously trying to stay professional and he’s failing immensely. Then shouting is heard from the front, you frown as you look at the two. And when Cobblepot sighs and goes out there to check it out your supervisor and you follow him. You seriously hope the waitress subbing in for you wasn’t being shouted at, she’s too sweet to be yelled at, and you’ll absolutely fight whoever yells at her.

Turns out it’s Nightwing who was panicking about the fact he couldn’t see you.

And the moment he did he rushes towards you, checking you all over for any visible injuries until you smack in his hand away in shock. “What the fuck,” you curse, kicking him in the shins (which obviously did nothing, but hey A+ for effort). “don’t touch me you ass.”

“How can you be so reckless?!” Nightwing suddenly shouts, which makes you look at him like he’s crazy and the patrons to look over. Especially the villain ones. “You shouldn’t be here at all, especially in your condition!”

You roll your eyes, but then it hits you. You don’t know Nightwing, how can he know anything about you? “I’m sorry, do we know each other?” You ask, looking at him like you would at Bruce. Your eyes harsh and if looks could kill Nightwing would be six feet under. He freezes and shakes his head, which makes you scoff; “Then why the fuck are you stalking me? Aren’t you supposed to be a hero?”

Well that shut him up real quick, he’s looking at the ground and keeping a half-smile on his face as he tries to look for a way to bullshit his way out of this. “Go bother active criminals,” you say as you take in how he’s standing. “these folks are here to eat a nice meal. And you clearly got an issue with me, not them. So bother me when I am not on the clock.”

“But-”

“Uhuh,” you say, putting your finger up in front of you. Looking like a sassy English teacher that’s about to give him detention, if he didn’t feel so awkward he would absolutely love this interaction. It’s almost like sibling banter! “absolutely the fuck not, fuck off. Jesus, you remind me of someone-”

“Awh thank you,” he gushes, thinking it was positive. And he could hear the family groan in his ear.

“If (Name) finds out about our identity through this I am quitting,” Red Hood mumbles through the comms and Nightwing just ignores him.

“It’s not a good thing, he’s a dick.” you say, and you can see your boss back off with a grin. Bringing your supervisor back to the back. And the patrons are enjoying the show, as well as your co-workers. Great. “Now could you kindly leave if you’re not going to order food? Thank you~!”

NEXT PART this is absolutely a filler chapter for the next one, so yes, I tried to humor my way out of this chapter. Did it work? Not really- is it a great set up for the next part of this story? Yes (well I hope so).

Taglist (closed): @prettiest-thing-in-the-morgue, @bunniotomia, @devotedlyshamelessdetective, @princessbonnie-bell, @seemee3, @pix-stuff, @venomsvl, @amber-content, @stove-top96, @frank-vanderboom, @leeiasure, @1abi, @shadowytravelerlover, @chericia, @lithiumval, @lingxio, @cssammyyarts, @marsmabe, @foolishseven, @kore-of-the-underworld, @bunbunboysworld, @homeless-clown, @miashico, @alwaysholymilkshake, @1cxndy, @kittzu, @rtyuy1346, @exactlynumberonekryptonite, @hopingtoclearmedschool, @artistwithcreativeburnout, @alishii, @vanessa-boo, @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni, @91-kya, @ryuushou, @jjsmeowthie, @justthere1956, @depressed--therapist, @xzmickeyzx, @cheappremingerfromdelululand, @plsfckmedxddy, @itsberrydreemurstuff, @trashlaternfish360, @leogf, @dirtydiavolo, @lilyalone, @welpthisisboring, @kenman00001, @nxdxsworld, @icefox8155, @ironsaladwitch, @holderoflostmemories, @asillysimp, @wisefuncherryblossom, @eyeless-kun, @marina27826, @muggleloveralways, @ironsaladwitch, @shyenemyperson, @iamaunknownsecret

533 notes · View notes

syrecjh · 3 days ago

Text

─★ ˙ 𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ No One Sleeps Mad

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ || husband katsuki bakugo x wife reader, pure fluff

𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆🌷͙⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

Three years of marriage to Katsuki Bakugo, and you learned something vital: silence is his weapon of choice. People always warned you that living with him would be Chaotic. Explosive. Loud. But in the quiet moments, when something’s wrong, it’s the stillness that cuts the deepest. Because Bakugo doesn’t yell at you. He doesn’t slam doors or shout insults. He just... stays quiet. Too quiet.

Tonight’s fight wasn’t big—just a few words that cut too deep, too fast. It started small, but in the silence that followed, you could feel it growing. You could feel him pulling away, not out of anger, but out of control. That’s when you know something’s wrong. When he’s not arguing, not raising his voice, but retreating inward. And for Bakugo, that retreat is the most terrifying thing. The calmness in his eyes is what makes your stomach churn.

You try to go to bed. You lie there, facing the wall, pretending to be asleep. But you can’t escape the space between you. The weight of unsaid things.

You hear the soft creak of the door. He doesn’t speak at first, just stands in the doorway, his silhouette outlined in the faint light. His arms are crossed, like he’s holding himself together. Waiting.

“You’re not sleeping like this,”he finally says, his voice low and measured. No shouting. No anger. Just a simple statement. But it hits you like a brick. "We're not sleeping like this,"

You don’t turn around. You don’t know what to say. So you let the silence stretch. And with it, the tension.

“Oi. I’m serious.” His voice is softer this time, but there’s a firmness there, like a command without a forceful edge. It’s the kind of calm that makes you feel exposed, like he’s reading you better than you can read yourself.

You swallow hard, refusing to show that you’re trembling. “I just want some space, Katsuki.”

His footsteps sound as he crosses the room. He doesn’t hesitate. He sits down on the edge of the bed, but just enough distance between you. It’s not an invasion, but an offer. An invitation.

“I’m not going to let you lie to me,” he mutters, his voice raw. “Space doesn’t fix shit. This does.”

He’s never been the type to hide behind words. He says what he feels, whether it’s love, frustration, or raw honesty. And right now, his honesty stings. It hits you right where you’re vulnerable—where you want to be left alone but know you can’t be. Because he knows you better than anyone. And he knows that pushing you too hard won’t help. But neither will letting you sleep with this weight in your chest.

You sit up slowly, heart racing. His eyes don’t leave you, but they soften slightly. You feel the walls start to crack. You hate that it’s coming to this, but you can’t help the sigh that escapes you.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, barely audible, like the words hurt to speak.

He doesn’t respond right away. But he doesn’t have to. His fingers move toward you, just enough to touch your shoulder—lightly, but it’s everything. He doesn’t say it, but you can feel his love in the simple touch. His apology, his offer to make it right.

“Stop making this harder than it has to be,” he mutters, his voice thick with emotion you almost never hear from him. “We fix this tonight. Even if we’re both exhausted, we fix it.”

You can’t fight it anymore. You lean forward into him, the weight of the fight slipping away as he holds you, the promise of resolution lingering in the air between you two. “We don’t sleep angry, not in this house. Not in this marriage.” he whispers into your hair, almost like a vow.

And in that moment, you realize that, for Bakugo, love isn’t about perfection. It’s about finding the way back to each other, no matter how small the fight is or how much pride you both have. It’s about never letting the night end without fixing what’s broken. It’s about never letting the fight win.

𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆🌷͙⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

#katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou imagine #bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #katsuki x you #katsuki x reader #katsuki fluff #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo mha #bnha x reader #bnha #boku no hero acedamia #boku no hero academia #mha fluff #my hero academia #bakugo fluff #fluff

642 notes · View notes

orphicsun · 2 days ago

Note

idk im thinking about ellie trying to get her girl off, but shes just too stressed to fall over the edge so ellie has to do her very best to keep her focused enough to get the release she needed :(

warnings: 18+ blurb, oral sex + nipple play + clit stim (r! receiving), lovey sex

"It's just so dumb. I felt like I was the only one doing the peer review shit right. The feedback I got was not even two full sentences. And the worst part? My professor doesn't even care!"

Ellie pauses from in between your legs for probably the tenth time. She isn't annoyed with you, but seeing you so stressed out over a class, feeling the stiffness in your body worries her.

She squeezes the inside of your thigh affectionately. "Which class is this again?"

"Psychology," you grumble pitifully. "It should be my easiest class, but people make it so complicated."

Ellie gives you a soft look of empathy and nods along. "Yeah. You know, we don't have to do this if you're not in the mood."

You shake your head, adjusting to slide further down the bed. She follows further down with you. "It's not that. I just keep thinking about it.."

She slowly crawls up your body, hers encompassing yours now. Two soft kisses on your ear, then a row down your jawline. Her breath is warm, the sensation on your skin almost enough to take your mind off of your stress. "Just focus on me, okay? I'm going to touch you. I want you to tell me how it feels..and nothing else. You understand?"

You nod, and she smiles, unable to keep herself from leaving a comforting kiss on your cheek. "Good girl."

One of her hands traces a line down your body, stopping at your chest. She doesn't firmly roll your nipples between her hands as she would usually do, but instead traces a thumb over. Before you can even think of bringing up another grievance, you feel her soft lips attach to your nipple, applying gentle suction that makes you instinctively arch your back into her mouth and moan.

Ellie's hand squeezes your other boob before heading further down, sliding a finger through your slick. You can feel her lips curving up when you shudder at her touch. With a slick-coated finger, she pulls your clitorial hood back to give your aching clit some direct stimulation. Your mind is empty of whatever was bothering you, even if just for a bit.

"C'mon, pretty girl. Tell me how it feels," Ellie says, her low voice muffled with your tit. She continues to work you, not having much of a problem getting you further as you were already stimulated from her mouth.

"Feels so good, Els. Please don't stop."

She wouldn't dream of stopping, either. Though she only wishes to give you some stress relief, the way you whine and buck up into her touch naturally makes her own pussy clench and leak.

"I can feel you twitching, honey. Just let go for me." Another finger rubs faster at your clit, making you nearly squeal in pleasure. Her teeth eases your nipple into a soft nip, not wanting to snap you out of your state of pleasure. You love it, though. You cup her face and try to pull her mouth even further down against you.

Ellie wants to sigh in relief when she finally feels you tense up from something other than your worries. You grasp the side of her face, fingers lacing thoughtlessly through her hair. Ellie doesn't stop working over your chest and clit until you come down from the intense orgasm she pulled from you.

All she can do now is bury her face between your tits and wrap her arms around your torso, holding you tight. She knows you're most likely exhausted from the orgasm and the lack of sleep you've been getting recently, so she has no plans on returning back to her apartment. She simply holds you tight for tonight.

taglist: @femme-tobe, @sulliefimmie, @klallx, @mytaping, @pryncess123, @therealhexstrap, @piercedome, @violetszn, @saturnhas82moons, @sawaagyapong, @prettyinpink69, @usuck, @s7nburn, @hellokittyfeenie, @ssijht, @starberr1, @ruevu, @ruelezz, @littlefallenangel111, @prwttiestbunny, @eriiwaiii2, @starrycherie , @tphmnv, @hotpinkskitties, @mars4hellokitty, @jhyoos, @elliesngirl, @moonfloweredprincess, @morticeras, @l0veylace, @abbysmeatrider, @ferxanda, @vahnilla, @plasticl0v3r, @g4ys0n, @bewareofmyglock, @witzs, @vixxxen, @aceywaycy, @abbysbutch, @evoscancelled, @x0x0xkimara, @mysexy-anxiety want to be tagged? click here!

716 notes · View notes

mattybsgroupie · 3 days ago

Text

— PEGGING CHRIS FOR THE FIRST TIME

you run your thumb across chris’s cheeks, wiping the droplets of tears that insist to fall from the corners of his eyes. “shhh” you soothe him, a gentle smile on your face. “we don’t have to do it baby, we can stop whenever you want hm?” you coo before ruffling his hair, your hands traveling to his shoulders, giving it a light squeeze.

chris whines in frustration, his fists pressed against the mattress. “no! i want it!” he says, but there’s something stopping him tonight. you had fingered chris a couple of times before — and he came untouched in all of them. it was obvious, at least for him, that the strap would be the next step. “‘m just… scared” he admits, turning his face away from you.

you gently grab his chin, tilting his gaze back to you. “look at you” you say, admiring his ethereal beauty. the rosy cheeks, his pouty, swollen lips, the puffy eyes filled with tears. “so handsome, being such a big, good boy” chris blushes even more at the compliment.

“mama” he mumbles, “not that handsome” chris holds back a smile, obviously waiting for more praises. you chuckle at his adorable reaction, ruffling his hair and sealing your lips. “i think you are the most handsome” you say, pressing kisses across his jaw and going downwards his neck.

chris was melting at your words. he whines, squirming on the mattress, trying to get closer to you somehow. his cock is pathetically hard, pre-cum oozing from his slit and dripping on his tummy as you lazily drag the pink dildo across his thighs.

“look at me” you call, wrapping your knuckles around his leaking dick, pumping him at a tortuous pace. “mama promises you’re gonna feel so good, hm? do you think i wanna hurt my baby boy?” you ask in a warm, gentle tone, trying to give him the reassurance he needed. “nuh uh” chris says. “i want it please” bucks his hips upwards, silently begging for some more friction.

you chuckle at his eagerness, softening your grip on his shaft. chris whines in protest, a smile appears as you give two light taps on his thighs. like the good boy he is, chris spreads his legs apart, allowing you to go further.

you place the tip of dildo on his rim, slowly rubbing the plastic toy against it. “i’ve got you hm? just relax baby” you coo, and chris immediately obeys. “there you go, my good boy”. his jaw opens slack as the dildo gradually enters him, his fingers gripping on the sheets, trying to get used to the unfamiliar feeling.

halfway through it, chris lets out a loud moan, his chest rising and falling quickly. you immediately stop, receiving a frustrated whine in response. “k-keep going please!” chris begs, wrapping his legs around your waist, forcing you to enter him completely. “feels so— nhng! good!”

chris cockwarms you for a while, the sensation of something bigger than your fingers reaching his prostate causing him to curl his toes. “mama please— fuck!” he can barely form a proper sentence, drool dripping from the corners of his lips.

“i barely moved and you’re already a making mess, prince” you say, chris only nods. “i need your words, baby. use your words like a big boy hm?” you speak, a firmer, stricter tone in your voice.

chris pouts again “please mama” he says, but he knows this isn’t enough. “fuck me, please” he squeeze his eyes shut, worried about your reaction. words aren’t necessary — you move your hips, gradually pulling out before sliding all the way in, hitting his prostate again.

“fuck fuck fuck” chris repeats like a mantra, the sounds of skin slapping and his moans taking over the quiet room. “mama i’m gon— gonna cum!” he cries, completely overwhelmed.

“already? awww” you smile, knowing exactly how to get him there. untouched. “is that so? my good boy cumming so fast just from my cock?” you tease. tears are falling once again, his cheeks completely dampened. “go on baby, wanna cum with it inside?”

“mama!” chris says before his orgasm crashes over him, his walls contracting around the pink dildo. thick ropes of cum spurt from his slit, his release hitting his own chest. he has leaked everywhere, a small puddle of cum — and maybe something else — resting above his belly button. he’s completely fucked out, his hair glued onto his forehead, sweat and drool adding to the mess on his chest.

you shower chris with praises, wiping his tears with your lips. as you begin to pull out, chris whines again. “no!” he says, pouting. “can i sleep with it in, please?”

DAY 5!! sorry for not posting last night (and for being late tn) i was really tired and the lovely anons i received in the morning didn’t help my mood lol anyways!!! hope you like this one 🤍! and thank you @luvs4matt once again for helping me <3 if you wanna be added to the special taglist please comment on this post!

587 notes · View notes

myownwholewildworld · 2 days ago

Note

what do we think about jackson!joel miller x make up sex? 👀

no because you REALLY had me thinking here, nonnie... fffffuck 😮‍💨 i was chewing my fist while writing this, i swear asdfghjkñ i hope you like it!! <3 thank you so much for sending this in!

old man!joel miller collection masterlist

tw/tags: 18+, mdni. pwp/filthy smut. breeding & pregnancy kink. public sex (someone sees you two fucking, oops). joel is a bit rough but he's trying to discipline you and fuck the anger out of you. makeup sex. creampie. implied age gap. some fluff at the end <3 reader is female but not described apart from wearing a sundress.

Joel was really testing your patience today. First, you had woken up to an empty bed, sheets cold with his absence. Not the best start to your day when you liked cuddling up in the morning, maybe getting him to bring you to a state of ecstasy so you would feel relaxed for the rest of the day. When you had gathered the strength to roll out of bed, you had tripped with his boots—mind you, they were neatly tucked away next to his nightstand, but they were still in the way.

With sleepy eyes, you had gotten to the bathroom, sat down on the toilet and almost fell into the bowl because he had left the seat up.

By that point you were fuming, so when you sauntered downstairs to the kitchen and found out the coffee had run out, you were about to fucking lose it.

Perhaps your levels of oestrogen and progesterone were fluctuating a bit too much, your mood swinging within a matter of minutes. But regardless of that, you found these little things annoying. Luckily Joel had already left for patrol, otherwise you’d have bit his head off and spat it out.

Once he had come back, you gave him the cold shoulder—not consciously, you were just not in the mood to socialise. And when you felt so edgy, it was better to be left alone. But Joel, being himself, would not let you be. He’d asked you a few times now what was wrong, but you had only shrugged, muttering a “nothing, m’just tired.”

Obviously, he hadn’t bought it. The fact that he was so attuned to you, so in sync with your body language, was both a blessing and a curse. Most of the time you didn’t need to voice what you wanted, because Joel was already on it before you opened your mouth.

Today though it was definitely a curse.

You both were in the community hall, helping to get the town ready for an early summer festivity. When the first waves of warmth arrived at Jackson and the sun kissed the streets, the town came to life beautifully. The council had proposed a barbeque, have the townsfolk gather together for some lunch and build up the community spirit.

“Sweetheart, can you pass me the salad bowl, please?” Joel interrupted your train of thought—not that you were thinking anything in particular, but it just added to your annoyance.

“Last time I checked you had hands to grab it yourself?” you snapped back, unable to rein in the words before they slipped out.

You realised your mistake when some subtle gasps rumbled around you. The rest of the people around the table pretended to not have heard your answer, but their expressions said it all.

Venturing a side glance at Joel, you saw how his brows bunched up, the crease between them deepening. His lips were pressed into a thin line, his jaw tight and the vein in his neck bulging. He was mad. And probably rightfully so.

You should have apologised but instead opted to retreat. To soothe your curt reply, you gave him the bowl he had asked for.

“Gotta check the stock room, see if there are any more napkins,” you mumbled, averting your eyes, before you scurried along to the back of the hall.

With every step, you felt Joel’s eyes on you, following your every movement like a rabid dog, but you kept your back straight and chin up—it was his fault for getting you pregnant, really. It didn’t matter that you had begged him to come inside multiple times because you wanted to carry his kids—no, right now it was solely his fault.

Once in the pantry, you left the door ajar as you trudged to the back of the room. Going on your tiptoes, you tried several times to reach for the wooden box on the top shelf unsuccessfully. Grunting now, you extended your arm as much as you could, your fingertips almost grabbing the handle.

“What the fuck was that about, hm?” Joel startled you, making you jump on the spot, your heart racing wildly.

Joel’s broad hands landed on your hipbones, pushing your ass back into him while you held onto a shelf. His fingers bunched up your sundress in his fists, the hem of your attire running up your thighs.

“You got so much fucking attitude today and I don’t even know why,” he growled, his teeth nipping at your ear.

You opened your mouth to reply, but he silenced you with a stern tut.

“Right now I don’t fucking care, honestly. That was so rude. And in front of everyone?” he went on. You heard some rustling behind you but couldn’t look over your shoulder—Joel had you pinned against the shelving. “Gotta teach you some manners. But first I’mma fuck the anger out of you so we can talk like civilised adults later.”

Joel lifted the back of your sundress and then you felt it—his hard length poking at your entrance over your panties. He moved them aside, his throbbing cock skidding on your wet slit.

Your eyes darted to the ajar door in a panic, but the lust pooling low in your pussy impeded your talking.

“Yeah, door’s open. If someone comes in and sees how I’m disciplining you, then you might learn the lesson,” Joel husked in your ear, his cockhead nudging your palpitating clit.

You gasped at the intimate touch, your fingers clutching the edge of the wooden shelf with a strength you didn’t know you had. Joel’s hips slanted back, the tip of his cock dragging along your dripping seam with ease.

Your eyes fluttered shut, the resolution of your anger slowly fading away, brushed away by a few strokes of his drumming dick on your slick folds. How you melted for him so effortlessly should have been somewhat infuriating, but reality was, this was exactly what you needed.

“You’re so fucking wet, desperately leaking onto my cock like that,” Joel’s breath caressed the shell of your ear, your pussy lips snugly hugging his glans, your hole mouthing for him. “Is that it? You’re upset ‘cause I didn’t fuck you stupid this morning, hm?”

You whimpered in response, grinding your ass onto his lower tummy, adjusting your position ever so slightly so his searing cockhead would kiss your opening. Silently begging him to stuff your cunt full of him.

“Yeah, that’s fucking it. You’re so desperate for your old man,” Joel purred, all of your hairs standing up in anticipation.

And with that, Joel thrusted in sharply, burying himself down to the hilt, his fists holding your dress up while the squelching sound of your bodies meeting filled the room. You moaned at the intrusion, threads of spit wetting the corners of your mouth.

“There you go, just what you needed,” Joel gritted, kissing the curve of your neck before he pushed back, then harshly back in.

You didn’t reply, just rested your forehead on the edge of the shelf while Joel fucked you from behind, your knees shaking with the burning passion melting your insides. Your crying pussy hugged him tight, clenching around his thick girth as if she never wanted to let him go. This was where he belonged.

Every time Joel jackhammered into your weeping cunt, you saw blinding stars behind your eyelids. The tip of his dick would shyly kiss your cervix, careful not to hurt you—keeping you on the sharp blade of the pleasure knife. He filled your entire pussy, stretching your walls apart to house the whole of him, cracking you open just for his own enjoyment and amusement.

And you’d let him. Wished he’d have you just like this every waking second of your day, the pregnancy hormones having you in a constant state of animalistic heat. It probably wasn’t normal, but you didn’t care.

Rutting into you, Joel built up a punishing pace. He was fucking you so hard now, the shelf you were holding onto for dear life began rattling, the glass jars clinking and moving around. Your legs started trembling too, the sheer force of his plunges draining the energy out of your cunt while the coil inside you tightened to breaking point.

Joel’s calloused hands moved from your hips, the skirt of your sundress cascading down your body, and he placed his palms right under your swollen belly. He held your pregnant tummy up, and you suddenly felt as if a heavy weight had been taken off your lower back, an instant release coursing through your system.

You signed heavily, and Joel picked up on it.

“My poor baby, carrying all this weight by herself. You look radiantly beautiful and sexy, so perfectly round with my kid. Our kid,” he added, licking the salt of your neck—your whole skin bristled. “I’d have you be pregnant forever, so everyone knows who you belong to. Who fucks you until your brain is blown out every single day of your life. Who has your sweet tight pussy drooling everywhere.”

“Y-yes, I want that too,” you managed to speak through chattering teeth, your ass meeting his hips every time he ploughed you. “F-fuck, Joel…” you groaned, looking down to see your juices running down your inner thighs.

“Yeah, I know you do, sweetheart—wanna carry my kids, make me a daddy,” your pussy fluttered around him with the last spoken word, your sobs louder. “That’s right, darling. Make me a fucking daddy. I want you swollen with my child all year round. I’d be destroying this sweet little cunt of yours every single day so my cum takes.”

Joel was diabolical, his dirty talk hitting right on that kink of yours—you wanted him to breed you, to fuck you stupid, to fill you with his sperm. Just the thought had you wantonly moaning. All his breeding talk had you gushing, your mind filled with a relaxing, buzzing noise as all thoughts vacated the premises.

Your eyes briefly shot to the ajar door and you could have sworn you’d seen someone peeking through the crack in the door. But after blinking, the mirage was gone. Perhaps you’d just imagined it.

An imminent warm sensation flushed through your veins, your attention drifting from the door, and your inner walls clamped around him, strangling his cock as you came—the big wave of your orgasm drowning you, your wails louder than they should be considering where you were. All taut muscles in your body relaxed at once, your knees almost giving way while your racing heart calmed down and your breathing stabilised.

Joel managed to keep you upright, his hands holding your belly while his hips pinned you against the standing shelf, fucking into you maddeningly quick. You felt the pulse surging through his shaft, announcing his climax, and to help him get there faster, you clutched your spent cunt around him.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Hug me tight like that,” he groaned in your ear, breathless and agitated.

You squeezed him hard again at his command, and soon enough he gifted you a warm, fresh load of his cum, painting your womb white. Joel leaked into you in spurts, tacky ropes filling you up.

Joel kissed your neck while you unclenched, releasing him from your grasp. His cock slowly started to soften inside you and carefully Joel pulled out. With one hand still below your belly to give you some much needed comfort, his other one travelled down your front to your groin, readjusting your panties.

“You’re gonna walk around here with your sweet pussy leaking my cum, soaking your laced panties, until we get home, darling. And then I’ll give you another load, see if you’re in a better mood then,” Joel muttered.

He let go of your tummy, the weight of your growing child pulling the muscles on your lower back again. You heard him zipping up his jeans and then he gently turned you around in his embrace.

“Care to explain now what the issue was?” he asked, peppering kisses around your mouth, but not on your lips.

You pouted, draping your arms around his neck.

“You left without saying goodbye, without… you know,” you whispered, pecking his jawline.

Joel laughed, a hearty one that filled you with joy and made you smile. “Without fucking you. Won’t happen again. Noted. Anything else?”

“I tripped with your boots,” you saw him opening his mouth to retort back, but you silenced him with a quick kiss. “I know, I know. They were tucked away. I still tripped anyway. Then I went to the toilet and the seat was up. I almost got my ass wet when I went to pee. And thinking it couldn’t get any worse than that… I go to the kitchen to find that we’ve run out of coffee?”

Your words were not accusing, not anymore. Joel and you knew how to talk things out—even the smallest details, so there wouldn’t be anything nagging neither of you. This was one of the strongest pillars of your relationship, and you loved being able to openly talk to him about absolutely anything.

“I see. I’ve been an ass today. M’sorry, sweetheart,” his apology was heartfelt, the guilt in his eyes evident.

You smiled at him, your fingers tracing the edge of his jawline.

“It’s okay. I forgive you, baby,” you mumbled lovingly.

You searched for his mouth and melted into a slow-paced, open-mouthed kiss that left you breathless. You had to pause to collect your thoughts when the kiss came to an end, Joel pecking the tip of your nose.

“What did you come here to get? We can’t leave empty-handed,” Joel joked, and you giggled before intertwining your fingers with his.

“The napkins. Can you grab them for me?”

#asked and answered #anon #old man!joel miller #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal character #ppcu fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #ppcu fandom

443 notes · View notes