#like that didn’t even work LAST time you tried it and what you were up against was the complete opposite of supernatural | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

scary-grace · 2 days ago

Note

sips drink. I am going to need. [ ring ] for shigraki

Thank you for the prompt! As usual, I went a little berserk with it, and there is. so much smut in this. If you're not a fan/this is not the vibe, let me know and I'll write you a different one, or do a better job with your other prompts! 9k, AU with demons, succubus!reader, tons of smut. If you're a big fan of super dominant Tomura, this is not the fic for that. MDNI + thanks to @dogblessyoutascha for beta-reading on short notice and putting up with tons of yapping and fic about this guy.

wanted (if you want me)

a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

You're a down-on-your-luck succubus who just got rejected by the guy who summoned you, and you can't go back to Hell until you find somebody else's soul to steal. Shigaraki Tomura, reeling from a Valentine's Day rejection of his own, is the perfect victim. Or so you think. (cross-posted to Ao3)

“Sorry,” the guy who just summoned you says, sitting back from the pentagram he’s drawn on the floor with a frown. “You’re not my type.”

“I’m – what?” You feel stupid, which isn’t how you’re supposed to feel. You’re a demon, and a mortal’s just summoned you. You should feel powerful and lawless, not embarrassed. Not rejected. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re not my type,” the guy says again. He gestures awkwardly at you. “I was hoping for somebody – more.”

“Did you want a guy or something?” you ask. You cross your arms over your chest. Your clothes are barely worthy of the title, and you don’t want this guy seeing your nipples if he’s not even into them. “If you wanted a guy, you should have summoned an incubus. It’s not my fault you can’t read.”

“I like girls,” the guy snaps at you, rather than addressing the fact that you just called him a moron. “You were supposed to look like this.”

He picks up the grimoire he was reading the incantation out of and holds it up to you. It must be a new edition of the same old grimoire, because the last version of it you saw didn’t include illustrations. The illustration in question is a demon, identifiable as such by her horns and tail, but she looks about as much like you as you do like an angel straight from Heaven’s hideous art-deco gates. She’s got the kind of proportions that don’t work on Earth or in Hell – tiny waist, enormous breasts, ass that needs its own zip code, and her outfit is so tiny that you can see her nipples and her clit through it. And then there’s the face she’s making, straight out of some seedy erotic magazine, with blown-out pupils and open mouth and a delicate flush across her cheeks, all ready to be ruined.

Your outfit is skimpy, sure, but not that skimpy. You have the parts you need, but they aren’t that exaggerated, and if you tried that stupid expression, you’re pretty sure your face would melt off. If this is what this mortal expected, of course he’s disappointed to have gotten you.

His disappointment isn’t your problem, and now you’re in a mood. “Let me get this straight. You summoned a succubus – a sex demon from the depths of Hell – to fulfill your fantasies, and you’ve decided that now’s the time to get picky.”

“I’m not being picky,” he says. “Girls like you don’t do it for me. Can’t you send somebody else?”

“Sorry. All my sisters are seducing hotter mortals than you.” You feel a surge of pleasure at the way the man flinches. Guys like these – when they summon a succubus, they’re always thinking about the sex part, not the part where you’re a demon. “They took one look at you and decided I was all you deserved, and you know what? I don’t think you deserve me, either.”

“Well, I don’t want you, so –”

“In fact,” you continue, rising to your feet and internally cursing the fact that you decided to materialize in fuck-me heels, “I don’t think you deserve to get laid ever again.”

The mortal blanches. “What?” he demands, taking a step back as you step forward out of the pentagram. “You can’t leave the circle unless I say.”

“You really should look into those reading lessons. You’ll have a lot of time on your hands.” You were just going to lay the curse, but you decide that’s not enough. You nail him in the balls with a sharp kick, and as he doubles over, you speak, your voice crackling with the fires of Hell. “May your erections always wither, no matter how much porn you watch or how many drugs you take. May you disappoint every lover you take to your bed, and may that bed lie as cold and empty as the grave where they’ll bury your impotent corpse.”

It's a pretty good curse, if you say so yourself. “You bitch,” the mortal spits, but you snap your fingers and seal his fate. You know the moment the curse settles over him. You see the despair in his eyes. “Take it back!”

“No,” you say. You grasp his chin in one hand and lean in close, so close that your breath huffs out against his lips. You scraped your tongue for this guy. He deserves all this and more. “I’ll see you in Hell.”

His eyes roll up in his head and he collapses to the floor. You step over his unconscious form and survey the apartment you’ve found yourself in, dingy and filthy and smelling unpleasantly of human body odor. This is the kind of mortal who thought it was wise to reject you, just because you didn’t exactly resemble the absurd sketch in his grimoire. This is the kind of mortal who thought you weren’t good enough for him. Your lower lip begins to tremble, no matter how hard you sink your sharp teeth into it, and sulfuric tears begin to leak from your eyes. You were so excited to be summoned, so hopeful that you could do a good job for once. Now you just want to go home.

But you can’t. When you try to dematerialize and let Hell call you back, you can’t, and you realize why not in the same second as you realize that you didn’t curse that human nearly hard enough. You were summoned to this world to serve a purpose – to fuck some mortal so hard that they’ll sell you their soul – and until you serve that purpose, you’re trapped here. You need to find a mortal to sleep with, immediately. And you can’t go out looking like this.

You ransack the mortal’s apartment. None of his street clothes are anything you’d be caught exorcised wearing, but he has a long coat that he probably thinks makes him look mysterious and cool. You shrug it on, noting that it covers your skimpy outfit while still providing easy access to your body when it’s time to take it off, and keep searching, in case there’s anything else you can use. Money, as it happens – this human has a bank account and credit cards, and even unconscious, it’s all too easy to read his mind for the PIN. You pocket all of it, hide your demon form with a glamour, then leave the apartment door wide open on your way out.

As soon as you hit the street, though, you realize that you have an even bigger problem than you thought. You assumed it was some featureless winter evening, the kind where a bored, lonely mortal has nothing better to do than flip through a grimoire and get himself into trouble, but every storefront you look at is decorated with hearts. Every mortal you pass on the street is on someone else’s arm, or carrying flowers, or making out in the glow of a streetlight. It’s Valentine’s Day. You’re fucked.

Contrary to what humans like the idiot who summoned you think, Valentine’s Day isn’t actually about sex. Sex is a side effect of what Valentine’s Day is really about, which is romance. It’s about love and soulmates and tenderness and affection and forever, which is exactly nothing you know anything about. Succubi and incubi exist on the dark side of all of that, in its nasty, sleazy, prurient shadow. You don’t court, you seduce. You don’t make love, you fuck. You don’t show people the face of God, or whatever that dumb-ass musical says; you show them the gates of Hell and walk them through. Seducing a random mortal is a tall order for you on a given day. Seducing one on Valentine’s Day is going to be damn near impossible.

You feel tears welling up again and blink them back. Crying over rejection from a filthy, useless mortal was bad enough. Demons shouldn’t feel that kind of pain, and if they do, they shouldn’t wallow in it. Demons get the job done. And it’s not totally hopeless, when you force yourself to be honest about it. For all the mortals who are happily coupled, there are plenty who aren’t, and if the mortal who summoned you is anything to judge by, some of them aren’t averse to a little salacious, damnation-worthy fun.

As far as places to find single humans go, you’re spoiled for choice; while all the restaurants have Valentine’s Day specials for mortals out on a date with their special someone, it seems as though every club or bar is advertising an event for singles. You peer into a few bars, but none of them strike you as having the right mood. Most of them carry a pathetic air of hopefulness, as if the humans within believe they really might find someone to love tonight of all nights. You don’t need hopefulness. You need desperation. You need a human so lonely and desperate that they won’t question why a stranger wants to fuck them. If you were attractive in your human guise, you’d have a better shot, but apparently you aren’t. Only a human who’s truly desperate would go for you.

Finally you come across a bar where the mood seems a little more appropriate. Some sort of singles event is winding down as you come in, and you sense the despair beginning to set in. Most of the humans here could easily pair up with one of the others if they were willing to alter their standards, but humans have gotten entitled these days, and they all think they deserve a partner who matches their ideals. They cling to that fiction even as the mood in the bar worsens. They don’t need to settle. They’re holding out for true love.

Pathetic. You square your shoulders and wade into the mix.

The gender of your target doesn’t matter to you. It doesn’t even matter if they’re willing to sell their soul tonight – once you’ve fucked them, you can come back as many times as it takes for them to give it over. But even with your criteria broadened, you’re having trouble. As you search through the humans, tasting the flavor of their emotions every time you brush against one, you don’t find a single one who feels the way you need them to.

You taste sadness. Loneliness. Despair. Resignation or acceptance – sometimes they’re hard to tell apart. A few strange humans have even found refuge in faith, some idiosyncratic hope that they’ll find what they’re meant to find when the time is right, as if God has time to ordain such stupid things. On another night, you’d take pleasure in crushing their hopes, but your own hopes of getting out of here are sinking by the second. You need a human. Any human will do.

But just as you’re resigning yourself to seduce a woman, one whose loneliness carries just the faintest tinge of despair, you’re hit with a wave of exactly what you’ve been looking for. Not just despair, but disappointment. Not just loneliness, but hurt. Not just resignation, but frustration and embarrassment, at feeling hurt and disappointed and finding themselves here at all. You turn away from the woman without ever drawing her attention to you and follow the thread of rejection through the bar to a booth in the corner, where a mortal sits alone.

Along with the relief of finding a target at last, the first feeling that crosses your mind is surprise. This isn’t the sort of mortal you’d expect to find alone on Valentine’s Day, just based on his looks alone – almost-delicate facial features, long white hair, a frame that’s broad-shouldered yet lithe, observable even when he’s seated. As you get closer, you see a birthmark below the corner of his mouth, scars over his mouth and eye, and long lashes framing his crimson eyes. This mortal is pretty. Some of your sisters don’t care what their targets look like, but you like your mortal men pretty.

The mortal looks up as you come to the edge of his table. He seems as surprised to see you as you are to see him. “You’re late to the party.”

“Apparently not, since you’re here. Do you mind if I sit down? My feet are hurting in these shoes.”

He looks down at your shoes, and just like you were hoping, his eyes trace upwards, over your bare ankle to your calf to your knee before it disappears beneath your stolen coat. “Go ahead,” he says. “There’s room.”

There’s plenty of room, but you sit down next to him anyway, your leg pressed against his. You feel him startle, feel him go tense, and decide it’s worth drawing attention to. “Did I scare you?”

“No,” he says, but you can hear his heart beginning to race. “Just wondering if this is a setup or something. People like you don’t usually want anything to do with people like me.”

“People like me?” you say. You turn towards him, elbow propped on the table, chin propped in your hand. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb,” your mortal says. “Looks like yours, there’s no way you’re single.”

You can’t imagine this mortal’s self-deprecating angle working on anyone, but the compliment makes you glow ever so slightly. “Strange. I was thinking the same about you.”

Your mortal doesn’t glow. He blushes. “Don’t lie.”

“Would I lie?” Yes, frequently and gleefully – but not right now. “You’re gorgeous.”

He scoffs, averts his eyes, but his heart’s beating faster. It’s cute, and since he’s opened this door, you might as well walk through. Time for a little touching. You start with the scar above his eye. “I like this, and this –” you trace the scar, then tuck a few strands of white hair behind his ear, letting your fingers graze across his cheek and down to his jaw before reaching the scar over his mouth. “And this –”

He speaks while your fingers are still against his lips. “Careful.”

“I’m being really careful,” you promise. You run your fingers over his mouth again, slow and teasing, then turn your attention to the birthmark. “And I like this. It really completes the picture. Whoever rejected you tonight, they were out of their mind.”

“I could say the same about whoever rejected you.” Your mortal’s hand brushes against your knee, then drifts away, and you shiver ever so slightly. You like this mortal. It’s always easier when you like them. “I saw you watching the rest of them. Why did you pick me?”

“Like I said, you’re gorgeous,” you say, and shrug. The shrug presses you a little closer against him, and you don’t pull back. “And you looked like you were having the same kind of night as I am. I thought we could make each other feel better.”

He gives you a skeptical look, but the flush in his cheeks gives him away. Oh, you like this one. Even if he gives you his soul tonight, you’ll come back to visit him at least a few more times. “How do you think we can do that?”

“By giving each other what we want,” you say. “Don’t you get tired of having to play a part, to be what someone else expects you to be, and never have your desires fulfilled? I could give you that.”

He scoffs. “You think you know what my desires are?”

“You’d tell me,” you murmur. “That’s the point.”

Your mortal’s skepticism doesn’t fade, but neither does his blush. “What about what you want? I don’t buy for a second that it’s just to sleep with me.”

The question gives you pause. It’s not one you’ve thought of before. Succubi don’t have sexual desires, really – your goal is always to seduce your target, which means it’s all about what your target wants. You aren’t very good at your job, but you’ve put up with all sorts of things, doing them or having them done to you, if it means the mortal you’re fucking will hand over their soul. What you want, personally, doesn’t factor in even slightly. What do you want from this mortal? You don’t know.

“You don’t know,” your mortal says, as though you’ve spoken aloud. His hand brushes against your leg again, settles there. “I’ll help you find out.”

“Only if you tell me what you want,” you insist, as he brushes your coat aside and finds your leg bare. His fingertips are dry and rough as they trail over your skin, brushing the inside of your thigh. “Oh –”

“Too much?” he asks. There’s an almost wicked glint in his eye.

You feel your own heart pick up the pace. This will be a challenge. You like a challenge. “Answer my question first. Every time you answer, you can move your hand.”

“I want you.”

“Wrong answer.” You close your legs, not that they were that far apart in the first place. You’re not easy. “I asked about your unfulfilled desires, and you just met me today. I can’t be the only thing you want.”

“Mm.” Your mortal makes a dissatisfied noise. Even as he leaves his hand in place, you see an awkwardness settle over him – nerves, or something like it. For such a gorgeous mortal, he’s an interesting contradiction. “I want – to be out of control.”

“Out of control?” You won’t open your legs just yet. “Tell me more.”

“You were right about me. I’m always doing what others want. I always have to be in control. I want to be outside my own control,” your mortal says. He can’t meet your eyes, and the flush in his cheeks looks almost uncomfortable. When you lean in to kiss it, his skin is hot beneath your lips. “I want someone else to –”

“Praise you? Worship you? Pleasure you until you can barely think?” You know you’ve got him by the sharp intake of breath, by the way he startles. “That would be my pleasure, too.”

You part your legs enough to free his hand, and his fingers, shaking slightly, work their way up the inside of your thigh. “What else?” you ask. “Be specific.”

“I want whatever you can give me.” He turns his head, looking away, which is an error on his part; it leaves his neck exposed, and you lean in to kiss it, feeling his pulse jump and race. “If I tell you it’s too much, I want you to give me more.”

“That was a good answer.” You part your legs a little further, and he takes it as the invitation it is. “Anything else?”

“I want to do the same to you,” your mortal says, and your face flushes. “It’s only fair. If you get to ruin me, I get to ruin you.”

Ruining him calls to mind all sorts of things, acts you’ve performed for other mortals by rote, acts you want nothing more than to perform for him, and the thought overwhelms you enough that you miss what he’s doing with his hand between your legs until he’s touching you, tracing your clit through the thin fabric. You realize with some degree of horror that you’re wet, and worse, that even his delicate touch has you spreading your legs wider. While you weren’t paying attention, your mortal made a bid for the upper hand, and he almost got it.

Not quite, though. You renew your efforts on his neck, feeling him shudder. You’ll do as he asks, as he desires – but not until he begs you, out loud, to give him what he needs. He shifts, squirms, in response to your attentions to his neck, much as you’re doing with his hand between your legs. “Mutual ruination,” you muse. “That sounds like a plan to me.”

Your hand’s been trapped at your side. You work it free and slip it behind his head, tangling your fingers in his hair. Then you turn him back to face you, drinking in the sight of him for a moment before you lean in to kiss him. The only way your mortal’s never had his desires fulfilled is if he’s never voiced them. You can’t imagine anyone looking at him, seeing him like this, and denying him what he wants.

Most mortals you’ve seduced lose patience with kissing quickly. The kind of mortals who summon a succubus only have one thing on their mind, but your mortal doesn’t know what you are. He kisses you eagerly, if inexpertly, and it’s only right for you to reward his enthusiasm. Besides, there’s something about kissing him that feels right, too right for the unholiness of what you are. If being with a mortal feels this good, you’re probably doing it wrong.

What does it matter? As long as you sleep with him, you’ll be free to return home. You’re a demon. Wrongness and rightness don’t factor in. You kiss your mortal carefully, paying some mind to the sharpness of your teeth and the delicateness of his skin. He’s less careful with his teeth. They nick your lip and blood wells out, and he licks it away without a moment’s hesitation. That flick of his tongue makes you consider other places it might belong, and you catch your breath. Or maybe it’s because he’s tugged your underwear aside to touch you directly, and you can no longer ignore the way he makes you feel.

You lean back, struggling to clear your head. A thought crosses your mind. “What’s your name?”

“Tomura.” Your mortal’s crimson eyes are dilated with want, the desperation you were so drawn to evident across his face. “Please –”

You kiss him again, and as he begins to finger you in earnest, stroking your clit and dipping his fingers shallowly inside you, you untangle your fingers from his hair and trace the inside of his thigh. Tomura startles at your touch, but spreads his legs at once, and your head spins with want. “How long have you wanted this?” you murmur against his lips. “Tell me.”

“Eternity.” Tomura twitches as you brush your hand over his groin before returning to toy with his thigh again. “But it’s not what they want me for. Nobody asked what I wanted until you.”

“Then they were missing out.” You bite back a gasp as Tomura sinks two fingers inside you, curling them just so, but his touch is only half the reason – the other half is the thought that you’re the first to see him this way, the only one to see him this way. “If they could see how pretty you are like this –”

“Do you want them to?”

“No,” you decide at once. You brush your hand over his groin again, noting how tightly his pants are stretched over his hardening cock. “I want you all to myself.”

His body jerks, craning upwards into your touch. “Now,” he says, almost demands. “I need it now.”

“People could see,” you warn. “If they walk by, they’ll know we’re up to something. Do you care about that?”

“Yes,” Tomura says, and you run your thumb over the tip of his cock through his pants. His body jerks, and you do it again. Again. “Fuck –”

“We can leave whenever you want,” you say, even as your body tenses around his fingers. You feel wound tight, your legs shaking from the strain, your lungs feeling as though they can’t hold on to even a single whisper of air. Mortals have choked you before while you’re seducing them and it’s never been like this. “Tell me to stop and we’ll go.”

Tomura doesn’t tell you to stop. You undo his belt, unzip his pants, and the instant your hand closes around his cock, he moans, loud enough to attract attention if anyone from the failed singles event is still around. He’s embarrassed by it – you can tell – but he doesn’t tell you to stop, and you keep stroking his cock. “So pretty,” you say, your voice catching as the heel of his hand presses against your clit. “Does that feel good? Let me make you feel even better.”

You grasp his wrist and pull his hand from between your legs, thankful for the reprieve. Tomura tastes his fingers, savoring them in a way that makes you feel almost awkward. “I wasn’t done.”

“No, but you’re about to make a mess.” You give a pointed glance down at his cock, which is oozing enough precum to stain his underwear. “I’ll be right back.”

There’s plenty of space for you under the table, and better yet, you’re out of sight, which means Tomura can’t see your reaction to the way he spreads his legs for you. And you haven’t vanished a moment too soon. You can hear footsteps approaching, and you sit forward and take his cock in your mouth just as the newcomers arrive.

“You sure you need this whole booth when you’re by yourself?” whoever it is asks. You hear Tomura start to answer, but you suck lightly on the tip of his cock, forcing him to bite back a curse. “What is your problem?”

“No problem,” Tomura grunts. You put your tongue to use, tracing it over his tip as you wrap your hand around the rest of his length. “Fuck – fuck off. There are other places to sit.”

The newcomer might say something else, but you can’t hear it around your own heartbeat thudding in your ears. Tomura wants you. He wants you so badly that he’s letting you blow him in public, that he won’t tell you to stop even when the two of you might be caught. The instant the other mortal leaves, you’re cradling his balls in your free hand, then sliding your hand a little further to press against his taint. Tomura’s entire body jerks and trembles. “Careful,” he forces out between gasps of air. “I’m going to – come –”

You wish you weren’t under the table, even if being under the table is necessary to contain the mess. You wish you could see Tomura’s face as his composure shatters, as he tries and fails to thrust upwards into your mouth and spills a ridiculous amount of cum down your throat. But he’s not quite out of control, not yet, and if you’re going to steal his soul, you really should give him what he wants first. You keep stroking his cock even as the shaking subsides, your tongue still dragging over his tip. He hasn’t gone soft just yet. You’re kind of impressed.

You’re impressed, too, with how he holds out. You know you’re overstimulating him, but he hasn’t told you to stop yet. And he asked you to keep going even if he told you it was too much. Still, you don’t like the idea of hurting your mortal. You renew your efforts, employing all the tricks you’ve learned to keep mortal men hanging on your every move, and to your shock, Tomura comes again. This time he’s almost sobbing, and you draw back at once, climbing out from under the table to check on your handiwork.

There are scratches in the couch cushions and on the tabletop, and both the napkins that were on the table have been crumpled out of existence. Tomura looks wrecked. He’s been yanking at the collar of his shirt, running his hands through his hair, and his face is flushed and sweaty. His eyes are blurred, and he’s still breathing hard, but when you lean in to kiss him, he obliges instantly. He’s unsteady, and yet there’s a strange hunger in the way he kisses you, a hunger that takes yours and amplifies it in a way you can’t quantify, let alone guard against. You find yourself melting into his touch, needing closeness, needing contact. And he gives it to you.

You’ve only just settled into a languid pace, your hands in his hair and his arms wrapped firmly around your waist, when someone smacks a server’s tray down on the table and startles you out of it. It’s the bartender. “Do you mind?” she demands, her face red. “This isn’t that kind of place! Take it outside.”

That’s fine with you. A little PDA is one thing, but whatever happens next between you and Tomura, you want privacy for it. You start to slide out of the booth, but Tomura won’t let you. He kisses you again, and you realize he’s giving himself cover to button his pants. But as long as you’re here – “What did I just say?” the bartender explodes. “Get out!”

You and Tomura stumble out onto the street, and the instant the door shuts behind you, Tomura pins you against it to kiss you again. “Does that feel good?” he asks, the same question you asked him earlier. You didn’t give him a chance to answer, and he doesn’t give you one, either. “Let’s go somewhere. You’re not the only one who doesn’t like to share.”

“Where should we go?” you ask. “I’d rather not go to a love hotel. Your place?”

He hesitates for a moment. “My place. Come on.”

You kiss on the train platform, mostly to keep out the cold, but on the train, you find yourself simply looking at Tomura, talking to him. You find out that he got rejected tonight, too, and came to the bar to mope about it. “They’re nothing. Their opinions don’t matter,” he says. Even his disdain sounds like yours. “That doesn’t change how it feels.”

“I know,” you say. You lean against him, your head on his shoulder, your left hand intertwined with his right. “My – date – said I wasn’t his type, then showed me this ridiculous drawing –”

“May his dick shrivel up and fall off,” Tomura says matter-of-factly, and you find yourself giggling. “If you aren’t enough for him, he doesn’t deserve to have any at all. Still –”

He trails off. “His loss, my gain.”

“You’re just saying that because I blew you.”

Tomura snorts. “Don’t be stupid. You asked what I wanted. Nobody’s ever asked me that. That’s not what I’m for.”

“What do you mean?” you ask. He doesn’t strike you as a sex worker – he’s too earnest, too vulnerable, in how he responds to you for it to be his day job. He shrugs, shakes his head. “I think you’re for whatever you want to be for. That’s how you are to me.”

His grip on your hand tightens for a moment, then loosens again, fingers tangling with yours. A strange spark, like an electric shock, ripples across your hand, and you look down to see an odd shadow around your ring finger. That wasn’t there before, but then again, you’ve never spent this long in the mortal world without fulfilling your purpose. “What about you?” Tomura asks. “Why don’t you know what you want?”

“I never thought about it before.” Some of your sisters enjoy their jobs, but it’s always felt like a job to you. Something to get through, so you can go home. “It hasn’t really mattered.”

“It matters now,” Tomura says. “When we get back to my place, I’ll show you.”

Tomura’s place is in a downtown high-rise, the third floor from the top of the building, and he gives you long enough to finally step out of your awful shoes before he peels you out of your jacket. For a single moment you’re convinced you’re about to see the same reaction as the mortal who summoned you, but instead Tomura’s eyes travel slowly over your form, lingering in every place you’d expect and a few places you didn’t. “This picture he showed you,” he says. “The one he thought was better than you. What did it look like?”

“Uh –” Where do you start, really? “The proportions were totally off. Its waist was tiny, and its breasts were huge –”

“Huh.” Tomura’s hands are at your waist, running over the curve from torso to hip and back with a firm, steady touch. One stays there, but the other migrates upwards, cupping your breast through your scant clothing. “What else?”

“It had this stupid outfit on. Like, way smaller than mine. You could see everything,” you say. Tomura’s thumb brushes over your nipple, then comes back to circle it, and heat begins to pool in your lower abdomen. “It barely covered her nipples – or her clit. It just looked kind of – I mean, I can hang in there with the best of them, but –”

Your voice catches. Tomura’s hand slides from your waist down between your legs, stroking your clit with his middle finger. His touch is featherlight, compared to the way he’s playing with your nipple, pinching and tugging it, making you squirm. “What else?” he prompts.

“The stupid face she was making. It was straight out of a porno – like, one of the really cheap ones. What some guy who’s never seen a woman come before would –” You startle as Tomura’s fingers slip further between your legs, then sink easily into you. “Tomura –”

“This drawing sounds like a fucking mess,” Tomura says. He reaches down and grasps your thigh, hiking your leg up around his waist and leaving you even more exposed for him. “I want to see the real thing.”

He wants you to come for him. You know how to fake a convincing orgasm – or an unconvincing one, depending on the target – but you don’t want to fake for Tomura. You promised him he can have what he wants, and he wants this, you. Your chest goes tight. “I don’t know if I can, like this.”

“I’ve got lots of ideas.” Tomura kisses you, and that need to melt into him resurfaces, even as your body responds to his onslaught. “Show me.”

You try to keep kissing him, but you can’t. Your legs are shaking again, and it’s hard to breathe, and you have to draw back to gasp for air. Somewhere in the back of your mind is the thought that this isn’t how it’s supposed to happen, that something went wrong in your seduction of this mortal if he’s the one trying to please you, but it’s stifled by other, more pressing matters. The heat flooding through you, the awful and yet indescribable exposure of your legs spread this way, Tomura’s hand anchoring you so you can’t pull back off his fingers until he’s done with you.

Or until you’re done with him. You come hard enough to blur your vision, hard enough that your legs almost give out, and Tomura keeps his fingers inside you until your twitching and squirming subsides. When he draws them back, you can see that his hand is soaked. He brings them to his mouth to taste them again, and you spot a shadow around his fourth finger. It can’t hold your attention for long. “That was good,” he decides. “But I want to see more.”

“More?” Your voice is shaky, and you’re hanging onto Tomura for dear life. “What do you mean?”

“You said I could have what I wanted,” Tomura reminds you. “This way.”

You follow him down the hall on shaky legs, into a bedroom with an enormous bed. Finally. You’re not getting into bed with Tomura still wearing your horrible outfit, so you peel it off, then turn to help him with his clothes. You undress him slowly, kissing every inch of skin you uncover, trying to regain some of your lost composure. But it’s hard to compose yourself when there’s so much of him to explore, to praise. So pretty, so noisy, so needy even when there’s no need for it – because you want him to have what he wants, and you want to be the one who gives it to him. The only one who gives it to him.

And that’s what you find yourself murmuring, as you guide him down to the bed to lie on his stomach, as you brush his long hair aside to kiss his back and his shoulders. I have what you need. Everything you need. You’re mine.

Tomura’s breathing turned quick and shallow a while ago, worse as you kiss the small of his back, the arch of his hip. He stirs beneath you. “I want to see more,” he says. “On your back.”

He’ll fuck you now, and he’ll come, and then you can finally go home. You spread your legs, leaving room for him to settle between them, and he does – much further down than you expected. He anchors your hips to the bed before you can stop him, holding you down with strong hands as he lowers his head between your thighs. The way his hair brushes against them tickles. The marks he leaves on them are oversensitive, making your legs twinge long before his tongue drags over your clit, and you wonder how you’ll explain the marks when you get back to Hell. How you’ll explain the fact that this mortal seduced you almost as skillfully as you seduced him.

Tomura eats you out messily, enthusiastically, until you’re arching your back and thrashing in his grip. The heat of his mouth against you, the pressure of his tongue against your clit or the way it feels when he licks inside of you – it all feels almost sinful. Too good for you to have, too good to want more of, too good not to beg him to keep going. You can barely manage to praise him for it, but when you do, his grip on your hips tightens and he grinds against the mattress. It’s wrong. There’s something wrong, and you want it so badly, and for the first time, you understand a little bit of why humans are so quick to sell their souls.

Tomura makes you come once, then a second time while you’re still trying to recover, and you barely manage to scramble away before he can slide his fingers inside you and try for a third. “What happened to not being in control?” you ask, and he shrugs, half a smirk on his face. “Lie down. It’s my turn.”

You crawl over him as he lies back, tasting yourself on his lips when you lean down for a kiss. Tomura relaxes so easily for you now, so much that he lets you grasp his hands one by one, raising them above his head. For the first time since you cloaked your true form, you engage in a little bit of demon magic. Enough to conjure restraints, and tie Tomura’s hands to the headboard before he can so much as open his eyes.

You’ve shocked him. You can see it, and better yet, you can feel it, in the way his skin heats up and his heart races. “You said you didn’t want control,” you remind him. “And I said I’d pleasure you until you couldn’t think.”

“Are you?” Tomura’s voice goes raspy. He watches you with wide eyes as you shift further down on the bed. “What are you going to do?”

“Everything.”

You learned all sorts of magic in the course of stepping into your role as a succubus, but this is the first time in a while that you’ve used any of it. And it’s for small things – the restraints on Tomura’s hands, the feather you conjure to trace all over his body until he squirms, the lube you coat your fingers with before you start working them inside him. Tomura doesn’t stop you, but he has a request. “Don’t fuck me like that. Not tonight.”

“Just my fingers,” you promise, and he nods, his eyes dark with need. “Whatever you want.”

You haven’t had the chance to watch Tomura come yet, and you get a chance as you finger him to an orgasm. He takes your breath away, your mortal – so pretty, so vulnerable, so loud and expressive and lost in it that you can’t help but stroke his cock with your free hand while you work him up a second time. In an ordinary seduction, with an ordinary target, now is when you’d stop. Now, when all he can do is beg for you, now when he’d give you anything to keep going; right now is when you’d ask for his soul in exchange. You know how to phrase it so that the mortals never guess what they’re truly giving up. It would be easy.

And it’s not what you want. There aren’t words for how much you don’t want that. Not when you’ve earned your mortal’s trust, not when he’s certain enough that you’ll give him what he wants that he doesn’t feel shame in begging for it. You know Tomura’s close when he starts squirming away from your fingers rather than clenching down on them. “Ride me,” he pants. “Ride my cock.”

Demon magic cleans your hands, and you slip down onto his cock with only a little strain. “You’re perfect,” you tell him as he stares helplessly up at you. “We fit so well –”

Tomura’s hips jerk upwards beneath you, making you gasp. “If we fit so well, come on my cock,” he pants. He’s been yanking at the restraints. You made them soft, but his wrists are chafed. “I need you to. I can’t – fuck, I need you –”

You’ve never needed a mortal before. You’ve never needed anyone before, but you need him, enough that doing what he asks doesn’t feel far-fetched at all. You ride him slowly, finding an angle that suits you, realizing how sore you are in the same moment. It’s been a hard night’s work. Usually mortals can’t keep up with you, and usually it feels like work. Tomura’s fingers curl and uncurl uselessly as he fights the restraints, and you reach up to grasp them, to hold them steady. And that’s when you notice it – the same shadow marking around his fourth finger as around yours.

Where did that come from? What is that? The restraints you conjured vanish in the space of a single heartbeat, and Tomura’s hands clamp down on your hips, guiding you as he thrusts upwards. His hair is glued to his forehead with sweat, to his chest and his shoulders and the sides of his neck, and the same heat writhes beneath your own skin as Tomura takes control over your pace. His thrusts are unsteady, but every time, he finds the angle you need him to.

You can’t breathe. You can barely think. Everything narrows down to heat and pressure and friction and pleasure and agony, because your body’s wrung out and still needs more, because Tomura’s falling apart beneath you and pressing his thumb over your clit to take you down with him. Pleasure explodes through you, collapsing you on top of Tomura. His grip on you barely loosens, even as your efforts to hold onto anything fall away. Anything includes your human guise.

Damn it. You untangle yourself from Tomura as quickly as possible, only to tuck yourself in against his side, uncomfortably relieved when he holds you tight. If you keep your tail under control and he doesn’t get a good look at you, he’ll never know what you really were. He’ll know something’s up, though. When he wakes up and finds that you’ve vanished out of this world, leaving evidence only in the chafe-marks around his wrists and the taste of you still on his tongue, he’ll know there was something strange about you. And he’ll have a lot of questions when you come back.

And you will come back. That’s the only thing that makes the knowledge that you’re mere moments from being drawn back to Hell bearable. Most of the time you can’t wait to leave your targets, whether you’ve collected their souls or not. This time, though – “I don’t want to leave yet.”

But you weren’t the only one speaking. Tomura said the same thing, on the off-beats as you spoke. “You’re leaving?” you ask. “This is your house. Where are you going?”

“Where are you going?” Tomura retorts. His grip on you tightens further – tight enough to bruise, if you were human or mortal. “What –”

He sits up suddenly, pulling you with him. Hell is pulling you back, but not quickly enough. Tomura looks at you, sees you – sees your horns, sees your tail, which is lashing anxiously in spite of your efforts to calm yourself. But you see him, too. You see the ram’s horns curling from beneath his white hair, the sharpness of his teeth. He’s not trying to control his tail at all. It wraps around your leg tightly. “You’re a demon.”

“So are you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why didn’t you know?” You try to separate yourself from him. Tomura should be letting go of you, should be shoving you away, but he’s still holding on, tighter every time you try to pull away. “Let go. If they find out –”

The world tears open around the two of you, well before you can pull away, and Hell pulls you back in at warp speed.

You don’t end up back in the spot you dematerialized from, and you doubt Tomura does, either. The two of you crash down on a rocky plateau, just on the outskirts of one of the cities, a desolate place no one comes to unless they’ve been cast out to wander amongst the souls of the dead. Why are you here? Is it because you came back together? Maybe that’s why – it couldn’t return you to your separate summoning locations when you’re so close together, so it split the difference and dropped you off here. Maybe there’s still time for you to hide this.

“Wow,” a familiar voice announces from somewhere behind you, and your heart sinks, “have the two of you fucked up.”

Tomura swears under his breath. “Is that your boss?”

Your boss, or your mother – nobody’s clear on which. Nemuri is picking her way through the jagged stones towards you, a vicious smirk on her face. “I can explain,” you start. “It’s not –”

“I tricked her,” Tomura interrupts. You stare at him in horror. “It was me. Not her.”

“No,” you snap. “I seduced him. I’m the one who –”

“I’m sure you believe that.” Nemuri’s smirk broadens, showing her fangs. “You’re so pathetically incompetent that –”

“Now, now, Nem. Let’s not let my guy off the hook here.” The new voice, loud and rich and full of almost-insane laughter, can only belong to another elder demon. Like Nemuri, he’s wearing a vicious smirk. “Remember, my guy’s the one who got rejected by his summoner and packed it in for the evening. At least yours gave it a second shot.”

“That’s my boss,” Tomura mumbles. “Fuck.”

“In fact,” Tomura’s boss continues, “one could argue that your girl’s off the hook. She did her job. It’s not her fault that my guy’s aura of misery was so strong that it made him actually look human. Or that he was so desperate to be wanted by somebody that he forgot to check whether she was actually a demon trying to steal his soul.”

Tomura’s shoulders hunch, and a surge of anger runs through you. “When you put it that way, Hizashi, it does sound like my nymphet is off the hook,” Nemuri says. “But when your pathetic little imp tried to take the fall for her, she wouldn’t let him. It seems they’re terrible at everything demonic, lying included. They’re telling the truth.”

“They really did seduce each other,” Hizashi muses. “That’s cringe.”

“More importantly, it’s against the rules.” Nemuri’s standing over you. Hizashi joins her, and the two of them leer down at you and Tomura, practically licking their lips. “Whatever shall we do with them?”

There aren’t many punishments that can affect demons – you’re basically gluttons for it. Then again, there aren’t many rules for demons to break. “I’m not sure,” Hizashi says. “Offer them up to Heaven for punishment? Banish them to the mortal world until the trumpets sound? Throw them out to wander with the restless dead forevermore?”

You might not love your job, but you have your sisters. If you’re cast out, you’ll never see them again. The only thing worse would be getting thrown to Heaven as an offering, one of Hell’s not-infrequent tithes to keep the peace. Tomura’s tail wraps around your waist, and you cover his left hand with your right as you wait for your fates to be decided. The thought crosses your mind, pointlessly, that you won’t spend an eternity of exile entirely alone. You’ve dragged someone else down with you, which might be the most demonic thing you’ve ever done in your life.

“Now that I think about it,” Nemuri says, her smirk broadening still further, “I don’t think we need to punish them – not when they’ve punished themselves so effectively.”

“What does that mean?” Tomura snaps. Hizashi is guffawing, his voice echoing off the jagged rocks. “Don’t laugh. What does that mean?”

“What does it mean, you gloomy brat?” Hizashi wipes at his eyes, still chuckling. “Take a look at your hands, both of you.”

You let go of Tomura’s and lift your own. Your right hand is clear, but your left – you remember noticing the shadow around your fourth finger, feeling the faint spark as it darkened a little further. It’s not a shadow anymore. Instead it’s a thin golden shackle, encircling your finger below your knuckle. No, not a shackle. A ring.

It won’t come off. You yank on it, try to dig your nails beneath it, but it won’t come off. Next to you, Tomura’s doing the same, cursing fluently, and Hizashi and Nemuri are laughing at you both, leaning on each other to stay upright. “It’s the first rule we teach you all when you’re spawned. No fucking your own kind, and this is why!” Hizashi is laughing almost too hard to speak, while you try to chew your ring off and Tomura breaks his own finger trying to remove his. “Thanks to your little tryst, the two of you are bound forever in unholy matrimony!”

“My congratulations to the happy couple,” Nemuri says. “The two of you are never going to live this down. You’ll be the laughingstocks of Hell. You’re going to beg us to banish you!”

“And we won’t,” Hizashi says. “I can’t think of a better object lesson than the two of you. We send you to the mortal realm to collect souls, and not only did you end up fucking each other, you didn’t commit a single demonic act!”

“I cursed somebody,” you protest.

“Me too,” Tomura says. “The mortal who –”

You remember what Tomura said about the mortal who rejected you: May his dick shrivel up and fall off. “You cursed the same mortal,” Nemuri says. She pauses a moment. “I will admit, it’s a fairly creative curse. The imp’s little add-on will make a nice insult to the injury.”

You’re better at cursing mortals than you are at seducing them, but you can’t imagine Tomura’s bad at it. Not with the way he worked you over. You duck your head to hide the heat coming up in your face. “Well, we’ll leave the two of you to enjoy your honeymoon,” Hizashi says. He shrugs off the ornate robe he’s wearing and drops it on the ground in front of you, revealing body chains, nipple piercings, and nothing else. “Wear this on your way back into the city. Maintain a little dignity.”

“Here, imp. Just for you.” Nemuri drops her robe over Tomura’s head, and he shoves it off into the dust. “Everyone’s going to know about your little bout of lovemaking, but I imagine you’d prefer if they didn’t know exactly how you’ve been chewing on each other.”

The two of them stroll back towards the city, arm in arm, still laughing. It’s a long time before their laughter fades, and then you and Tomura are alone on the outskirts. The wind, blowing hot a moment before, changes direction, growing cold and carrying sharp shards of ice. You put on Hizashi’s robe, then turn towards Tomura. He’s already shivering, arms crossed and shoulders hunched, Nemuri’s robe discarded in front of him. You pick it up and settle it back around his shoulders, shifting his hair aside so it won’t get caught beneath the collar – and then you realize what you’re doing. You freeze. “Sorry.”

Tomura shrugs, but the robe stays on. “You’re better at this than your boss says you are,” he says without looking at you. “I believed you.”

“I’m worse than she says I am,” you say. “I wasn’t lying.”

Tomura looks up at that, and you look away, your eyes stinging in the freezing wind. You never lied to Tomura, not from the moment you approached him. This would be so much less embarrassing if you had. If you’d listened to any of the moments where you sensed that it was going a little too well, that it felt a little too good. If you’d kept your distance instead of falling under his spell as quickly and easily as he fell under yours. “Your boss was talking out of his ass. Your whole thing worked really well on me.”

“Yeah. Except it wasn’t a thing.” Tomura’s tail wraps loosely around your wrist. “Mutual ruination. You were right.”

He’s got your right wrist. You study your left hand with its ring, and Tomura lifts his alongside yours. His ring looks the same as yours, although he’s dislocated his fourth finger in addition to having broken it. “Want me to fix that?”

“Demon magic doesn’t fix things.”

“It’s not supposed to marry people, either.” You’re not expecting that argument to work, but Tomura lets you capture his hand anyway. You relocate it manually, then try to work some magic over it. All your magic serves to make a seduction easier, so it shouldn’t be hard to twist it into something you can use for the sake of your – “I think it worked. How do you feel?”

“Like I fucked up,” Tomura says. Fair enough. “And I’m not sorry.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” Tomura’s hands slip inside your stolen robe, settling into the same place he was holding on as you rode him. “This isn’t that weird. Mortals do it all the time.”

“Except mortals who get married in Vegas can get divorced,” you point out. Somebody has to play angel’s advocate here, even if you’re already unfolding yourself from seated so you can get into his lap. “We didn’t even make any vows.”

“You did,” Tomura says. “I heard you say it.”

You’re mine. Is that really all it took? It makes a certain kind of sense, when you force yourself to look at it honestly. Mortals almost never doom themselves consciously. It’s always a moment of weakness, a split-second lapse, an instant where desire rules over reason. “Then you can break us up. Since I’m the only one who vowed anything.”

“No way.” Tomura’s lips brush the side of your neck, making your nerves twinge. “I agreed.”

You set your hands on his shoulders and push him backwards, and he goes willingly. The way he’s looking up at you counts as a sin all on its own – crimson eyes half-lidded, pupils already dilating, his cheekbones already dusted with pink. “Did you figure out what you want yet?”

“I have some ideas,” you say. You collect his hands from your waist and pin them on either side of his head, leaning down for a long, slow kiss. “But I’ll start with you.”

#shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x you #tomura shigaraki x you #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #man door hand hook car door #x reader #reader insert #a bisquared production #asks #throwing this at the internet and running away forever #this consumed me yesterday

115 notes · View notes

haikyu-mp4 · 7 hours ago

Text

Everything will be fine – Akaashi x reader wc 629 – f!reader, brother!Bokuto

Your older brother Bokuto was not disappointed – nor particularly surprised – when you and Akaashi ended up dating in your last year at high school. He was away for university by then and missed the two of you terribly, but at least your togetherness meant he could meet you both at the same time whenever he visited home! That’s double the time spent with both of you!

And when you and Akaashi graduated, you both got into universities in Tokyo, meaning Bokuto’s happiness only increased. Nothing could ever separate you now-

“Me and Keiji both got job offers here in Tokyo!”

For a second, he grinned widely at the great news, his hair pointed sharply to the sky. Then, slowly, he realised he had just accepted an invitation to play for the Black Jackals, who were stationed in Osaka. His hair melted into sadness, along with his whole demeanour.

You felt Akaashi tense beside you, his hand squeezing yours a little tighter while you pursed your lips, having handled this for much longer than your boyfriend.

“But I’ll be working in Osaka,” Bokuto reminded you, his sadness dripping from every syllable.

“It’s not even three hours with the Shinkansen, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi informed him. Naturally, he had made some calculations before giving this news.

Bokuto nodded and gave you a sorrowful smile. The rest of his expression was hardly working with him to convince you that he was okay, but he tried his best. “I just thought you two would both be freelancers and go wherever I go.”

You couldn’t help the small snort of laughter that slipped past your nose, making you lift a hand to try and conceal it. Akaashi smiled and stepped forward when he saw that Bokuto was about to tell you off. “Bokuto-san. I promise to take care of your sister.”

“I know that, Akaashi. But who’s going to take care of me? Who’s going to hold up the posters with my name at every game?”

Akaashi hesitated, looking a bit like a question mark when he answered. “Your other fans?”

Bokuto huffed and pouted. “They don’t count.”

“If I filmed that and posted it, you’d get cancelled so fast,” you mumbled from the side, already fed up with your brother’s nonsense (affectionately).

“You’re not taking my emotions seriously!” Bokuto accused you, which sounded exactly like it did when you were kids.

You stuck your tongue out at him. “Because everything will be fine!”

“It will?” Bokuto’s movements stuttered as he blinked at you owlishly, a nostalgic sense of positivity washing over him.

“Of course it will!” you repeated, voice a little lighter. A little more relaxed, like the words were filling the air and hugging all three of you. “We always work things out.”

Akaashi felt his shoulders lower as he admired you. You were everything he needed to fight his anxiety, and you proved time and time again that you were it for him.

It also seemed to have the same effect on Bokuto, who knew from all the years of sitting on the back of your bike while you gave your all trying to get him home after he scraped his knee, that you would do everything in your power to ensure it would, in fact, be okay.

“I already got us all rail passes for the whole year,” you said happily, shrugging. “Can you start being happy about our awesome jobs now?”

Bokuto used his strong arms to pull you and your boyfriend into a crushing hug, making you both groan despite the warmth in your hearts. “Oh my gosh, congratulations! What are your jobs?”

You nodded your head to gesture for Akaashi to start. “I’ll be an editor for Tenma Udai...”

“The mangaka?! Why didn’t you say that?!”

“…My bad, Bokuto-san.”

masterlist

requested by @nifflermini for my event, anything for you <3

66 notes · View notes

djarindroid · 2 days ago

Text

Resurfacing

Pairing: Thanos (Choi Su-Bong) x Reader

Summary: After Su-Bong's last visit will you ever see him again?

Warnings: mentions of drug use, brief mentions of gore

Word Count: 1,951

Comments: Apologies if there are mistakes, I've tried to proofread but I've been super ill this weekend and I'm a bit out of it 🤧

<- Part Four

You told yourself you did the right thing. He wasn’t himself, and letting him stay would’ve made things worse. You were protecting him as much as yourself. He had to understand that, didn’t he?

Still, no matter how many times you tried to convince yourself that it would be okay, you couldn’t shake the bad feeling that had settled over you the moment he walked out the door.

The worst part was you didn’t know if he regretted it, or if he even remembered what happened.

In the cold light of day, you couldn’t help but wonder what it all meant. Maybe he didn’t mean any of it. Maybe it was just the drugs talking. It had felt so real- the way he looked at you, the sound of his voice as he called you baby, the touch of his hand on your cheek. Was it real? Or just another night he’d forgotten?

The thought made your stomach twist with uncertainty.

You forced yourself to go to work the next morning, unsure if it was a blessing or a curse. The distraction helped, but every few minutes your fingers twitched with the urge to check your phone, to see if he’d called - to see if he cared.

He hadn’t.

You tried to push it down, to focus on anything else. The rhythm of work, the chatter of customers, the busy routine. But the pit in your stomach didn’t ease.

Your boss must have noticed because, as the rush ended, she pulled you aside.

‘Are you okay sweetheart?’ She asked gently.

You plastered on a smile. ‘Yeah, I’m just tired.’

She didn’t look convinced. ‘You’re quieter than usual today.’

You paused. You weren’t the type to just spill your problems to someone, but your boss had never been anything but kind. And maybe saying it out loud would make it feel less like it was swallowing you whole.

‘It's just my…friend. He left on a bad note yesterday and I haven’t heard from him at all today.’ You were careful to keep the details vague.

Your boss leaned against the counter and hummed knowingly. ‘The friend that walks you home?’

You nodded.

She gave you a small understanding smile. ‘Sweety, maybe you need to reach out to him first. I’ve been around long enough to know that if someone matters to you then it’s better to talk it out.’ She continued, placing a warm hand over yours. ‘Call him. Otherwise you’ll worry yourself sick.’

Her words stuck with you through the remainder of your shift. By the time you left you were done debating with yourself. The second you stepped outside, you pulled your phone out and clicked his contact.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three.

Voicemail.

You lowered your phone slowly, staring at it as if that would will him to answer. Maybe he was busy. Maybe he was asleep. Maybe he didn’t- … No. No more excuses.

You called him again.

Ring.

Voicemail.

This time the rejection settled in you.

You gripped your phone so tightly that your fingers ached. The cold air nipped at you, but you barely noticed it compared to the hollow feeling taking over.

You shoved your phone to the bottom of your pocket and forced yourself to keep walking. You weren’t sure if you’d try again tomorrow.

Deep down, you wondered if he’d ever pick up.

The next few days blurred together, work, home, sleep. You’d tried calling again to no avail. Each time you were met with the same voicemail message, it felt like he’d built a wall between you.

Eventually you stopped trying. Slowly, beginning to accept that maybe this was his way of saying goodbye without actually saying it. It hurt more than you’d care to admit, how easily he could just block you out.

Your apartment started to feel too big without him. You never realised how much he made himself at home. The way he took over your couch, or raided your fridge with no shame, or leaving half finished energy drinks on your table. Now it was back to being just you, and it felt lonelier than ever.

You spent evenings curled up on your couch, catching yourself glancing at the door more often than not, half expecting him to just show up. But he never did.

You crawled into bed on the fourth night of no contact, emotionally exhausted, but sleep didn’t come easily. Thoughts of Su-Bong mixed with memories of the games circled around your mind, no matter how much you tried to push them away.

And then, at some point, your exhaustion won and darkness swallowed you whole.

At first there was nothing. Then the distant sound of screams filled the space around you. The air was suffocating, pressing down on you like a weight.

A flash of movement caught your eye. Someone was there. A voice rasped out your name, it sounded oddly familiar. You tried to move towards it but the ground gave way beneath you. You fell hard, landing in something warm. When you looked down your breath hitched. The green numbered tracksuit clung to your body, soaked through with blood.

Piles of bodies surrounded you, their lifeless eyes staring straight at you. You tried to scramble back but something latched onto your ankle. A cold, lifeless hand.

Panic surged through you as you kicked and thrashed but more hands reached out for you, dragging you into the darkness with them.

There was no way out.

You opened your mouth to scream…

And suddenly awoke with a jolt. Sharp breaths came quickly, your trembling hands gripped at your bed sheets.

Your heart was beating so hard you thought it might break your ribs. You knew it wasn’t real, but the echo of the screams still rang in your ears. The panic still clawed at your chest.

Without thinking you reached for your phone, calling the one person who would understand what you’re going through. It didn’t ring long enough for you to even doubt whether he’d pick up.

‘Hey?’

At the sound of his voice you froze, fingers tightening around your phone. For days your calls had gone unanswered, you’d come to expect the sound of the voicemail. But now his voice sent a jolt through you.

‘Su-Bong?’ Your voice was quiet and disbelieving, as if you’d imagined him answering.

There was a brief pause, you heard him shift and take a breath, then he was suddenly more alert. ‘What’s wrong? You okay?’

The concern in his tone shocked you almost as much as the fact he’d answered at all.

You tried to steady your breathing before carrying on. ‘I just, it was…’ you suddenly felt stupid, embarrassed that this was the way you two were finally talking again. ‘It was just a nightmare, I’m fine. Sorry for waking you.’

‘I’m coming over.’

‘No, you don’t have to-‘

‘I’ll be there soon.’

He ended the call before you could question him.

You stared down at your phone, breath still coming too fast. A cold sweat coated your skin, the fear still lingering. The images from the nightmare stayed sharp in your mind, refusing to fade completely.

But now something else was added to your nerves. Su-Bong was on his way over.

After the way he’d left. After four days of nothing.

Would you both pretend like nothing happened? Your heart continued to pound for a different reason now. You had no idea what to expect when he showed up. But you didn’t have time to dwell on it because before you knew it there was a light knock at your door.

You felt unsteady as you made your way to the door. You simply stared at it for a moment, your hand hovering over the handle, The last time he’d been here he’d disappeared without a word. But he’d actually shown up. He was here. You unlocked the door and pulled it open.

Su-Bong stood on the other side, looking slightly out of breath and as though he hadn’t slept much either with tousled hair and a hoodie thrown on haphazardly. He kept his distance, the space between you felt heavier than it should.

Neither of you spoke at first, but his eyes searched yours like he was looking for something, like he was waiting. The memory of your last conversation clung to the silence. Now here he was, in your time of need. Like that last time hadn’t happened, like he hadn’t ignored your calls. Your throat felt tight. Should you say something? Should he?

Then, softly, he asked ‘You okay?’

You wanted to say yes, it was just a stupid nightmare, and apologise for calling him. But standing there, staring into his eyes the truth slipped out before you could stop it. ‘No.’

His expression shifted, but he didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, closing the distance between you and wrapping his arms around you, firm but cautious.

He held you tightly, grounding you but there was something else. He was being careful, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to hold you like this. It was in the way his fingers hovered briefly before tracing soothing circles across your back.

His breath hitched when you clung to him. Gripping his hoodie like it was a lifeline. His touch became more sure, his warmth fully enveloping you. You finally felt safe as the memories of the nightmare began to fade away.

‘It’s okay,’ he murmured into your hair. ‘I’ve got you.’

A shaky breath escaped you, and suddenly the weight of everything crashed down onto you. The nightmare, the four days of silence, the games. Your fingers curled tighter into his hoodie as tears stung your eyes.

You squeezed your eyes shut, but it was useless. A single tear slipped down your cheek, and then another.

Su-Bong must have felt you shake, because he shifted slightly, pulling you closer. ‘I’ve got you,’ he repeated gently.

That was all it took, your tears fell harder, there was no hiding the way your shoulders trembled or the way your breath stuttered against his chest. Su-Bong held you through it, continuing to rub slow circles across your back.

You weren’t sure how long you stood there before the tears slowed. But after a while your legs began to feel weak, noticing this Su-Bong gently guided you to the couch. He gestured for you to sit down, waiting until you did to settle beside you.

‘You wanna talk about it?’ He asked.

And for a moment you weren’t sure if he was referring to the nightmare or to the last time you saw him. You knew you should probably talk about both, but not tonight.

Tonight you just wanted to enjoy the comfort he’d brought you, so you shook your head and remained quiet.

‘Alright.’ He didn’t push. Just settled back into the cushions, like it was a normal night. As if everything between you wasn’t a mess of unspoken questions.

After a beat he reached for the tv remote, flicking it onto a random programme with the volume low. It was a distraction. A kindness. You focused on it for a while, letting it drown out the remaining thoughts.

Minutes passed before you realized he had draped an arm across the back of the couch, close enough that if you leaned just a little, you’d be against him. You hesitated for only a moment before shifting toward him. He didn’t react at first, but then you felt it—the way his fingers curled slightly, barely brushing your shoulder. A silent reassurance.

Neither of you spoke after that. You didn’t need to, not yet.

For the first time in days, the pressure in your chest eased.

-> Part 6 coming soon Series Masterlist

Taglist:@andersonslove @fallout-girl219 @olasz-2003 @l5byrinth @hotdxdragon @cherrypied0lly@nicklet94 @learninglinesintherainn @tebteb @lotsa-juicy-shit @onecojg @the-iridescent-phoenix @red22wolf

#first off sorry for the horrifc gif quality I just wanted this specific part so I downloaded some crappy chrome extension and made this 😅#squid game AU #thanos x reader #choi su bong x reader #squid game x reader #squid game fanfic #thanos #choi su bong #player 230 #squid game

76 notes · View notes

sturniololuvz · 17 hours ago

Note

Can you do a really angsty sister fic but with a cute ending but it’s very angsty

yesss! here ya go!

“Unnoticed”

Sturniolos x sister

Warnings : none rlly.

Y/N had always been the odd one out.

She knew her brothers loved her—of course, they did. But love and attention weren’t the same things, and lately, it felt like she had been completely erased from their world.

Chris, Matt, and Nick had each other. They always had. Three inseparable pieces of the same puzzle. And Y/N? She was just the extra. The fourth wheel in a group that never needed one.

At first, she tried to brush it off. They were busy, that was all. Filming, traveling, editing, working on their brand. She told herself it wasn’t personal.

But then the missed dinners started.

Then the unanswered texts.

Then the times she walked into a room only for them to leave moments later, too wrapped up in their own lives to notice her standing there, screaming on the inside.

She stopped trying.

If she didn’t reach out, would they?

If she didn’t show up, would they even notice?

Days turned into weeks, and it became painfully clear that the answer was no.

The final straw came on a night that should have been normal. She had been in her room for hours, curled up in bed, feeling the weight of her own insignificance pressing down on her chest. She wasn’t crying—she was past that.

Then she heard them downstairs, laughing. Loud, carefree, completely oblivious.

She checked her phone. Not a single message from any of them.

They were all together.

And she wasn’t even a thought in their heads.

Something inside her snapped.

She grabbed her jacket and slipped out the front door without bothering to text them. It wasn’t like they’d care.

It was cold. The wind stung her skin, but she barely felt it. Her legs carried her forward, away from the house, away from the suffocating loneliness that had settled in her bones.

She ended up at an empty park, sitting on the swings, her hands gripping the rusted chains as she stared blankly ahead.

She wanted to disappear.

Not in a dramatic way—she didn’t want to die or anything. She just wanted to stop existing in this way. Half-there. Half-seen. Half-loved.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, but she ignored it. Probably just some random notification.

But then it buzzed again. And again.

Frowning, she pulled it out.

Chris: Where are you?

Matt: Y/N, answer the phone.

Nick: Are you okay? Where’d you go?

A bitter laugh bubbled up in her throat. Now they noticed? Now they cared?

She stuffed the phone back in her pocket, ignoring the way her hands trembled.

Minutes passed. Maybe hours.

Then—footsteps. Rushed, frantic. And suddenly, all three of them were there, panting, their faces pale with worry.

Chris was the first to speak. “What the hell, Y/N?” His voice was sharp, but his eyes were soft. Scared. “You just left without saying anything!”

Y/N stared at them, expression blank. “You would’ve noticed eventually.”

Matt flinched. “Of course we would have—”

“Would you?” she interrupted, her voice cracking. “Because I don’t think you would’ve. I don’t think you would’ve even realized if I stayed in my room for days, or if I stopped coming home at all.”

Silence.

Nick took a shaky breath. “Y/N… that’s not true.”

“Yes, it is,” she whispered, feeling the lump in her throat grow. “I’m invisible to you guys. I’m just there—some extra piece that doesn’t fit. And you don’t even see me.”

Chris stepped forward, guilt written all over his face. “Y/N, we—”

She shook her head. “I used to be your sister. Now I’m just a background character in your lives.” Her voice broke on the last word, and she hated herself for it.

Matt looked like he wanted to argue, but he couldn’t. Because she was right.

And they all knew it.

Nick ran a hand over his face, looking like he was about to cry. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured. “We never meant to make you feel like this. We just—” He exhaled shakily. “We fucked up.”

Chris swallowed hard, his hands balling into fists. “You’re not invisible to us, Y/N.” His voice was thick with emotion. “You’re our sister. Our baby sister. And we love you more than anything. We just… we got so caught up in everything else that we didn’t realize we were pushing you away.”

Y/N wiped at her eyes, shaking her head. “I don’t need some guilt-driven apology.”

Matt stepped closer, his voice gentle. “We’re not just apologizing. We’re fixing this. Because you’re right—we haven’t been there for you. And that’s not okay.”

Nick nodded. “We miss you, Y/N. And we’re not letting this happen again.”

Chris hesitated for only a second before pulling her into a crushing hug, burying his face in her hair.

And for the first time in forever, she felt seen.

Matt and Nick wrapped their arms around them too, holding her tightly, as if afraid she’d slip away if they let go.

She sniffled. “You guys are so annoying.”

Chris chuckled, his voice muffled. “Yeah, but we’re your annoying brothers.”

A small, watery smile tugged at her lips. Maybe—just maybe—she wasn’t so invisible after all.

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #sister sturniolo #sturniolo series

52 notes · View notes

jessicaloons · 23 hours ago

Text

Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince:

Chapter 11

Masterlist - Previous - Next

Miss Americana

"Maman!" Charles said in a hushed voice but his mother only grinned, her eyes darting between her son and her young assistant.

"What? You did talk about her…" Pascale just shrugged her shoulders "Where is my gorgeous, little Ava?"

Lauren just then noticed the stroller behind Charles.

"You were right, by the way…" he said, looking at her.

"Umm-…?" Lauren was confused.

"I gave her a warm bath later on when she was still a little restless." Charles replied and she remembered their conversation again "She had a little cold back then… but she’s umm-… she’s better now."

"That’s good to know, I’m glad." the girl smiled at him, watching Pascale gently picking up Ava from the stroller, giving her the chance to see the little girl from close up "She’s gorgeous."

"That she is…" Pascale cooed.

"Yeah, she really is…" Charles agreed, although his eyes weren’t on his daughter but on Lauren, who didn’t seem to notice.

"Are you done with everything? Ready to close the salon for the next 3 weeks?" Charles asked his mother and Lauren looked at Pascale with big eyes.

"Oh god. I totally forgot to tell you… I’m so sorry!" the hairdresser gasped.

"Oh… umm okay… well yeah, I mean, I was wondering why I couldn’t set up new appointments for the next weeks although the calendar seemed to be empty, but I thought you blocked them because of our little project." the young girl smiled at her boss who sighed.

"No, it’s not okay… you could’ve planned something beforehand for the next weeks and now I leave you behind and all alone just like that…" Pascale said sincerely.

"It’s really okay Pascale. I probably wouldn’t even have planned something. Just stayed here… also, I scheduled the delivery of the new sinks and some other supplies for tomorrow, so yeah, maybe it’s better when we’re closed!" Lauren tried to reassure her "You go and enjoy your holidays with your family. I take care of the delivery tomorrow and then I watch over the salon… maybe I start with the remodelling…"

"No! We’re closed due to holidays! I cannot let you work while I do nothing… and I can’t let you be here all alone when they deliver all this new stuff tomorrow!" Pascale shook her head.

"You can and you will. Please let me handle this, Pascale. After everything you did for me…" Lauren meant what she said, looking at the other woman hugging her granddaughter close to her chest.

Pascale sighed, looking at her young assistant, the girl that got so close to her heart over the last weeks. She didn’t want to leave her all alone. Especially not in her makeshift bedroom in the storage room. The thought of Lauren all alone in the dark room with only one tiny window made her heart clench and she shook her head.

"Charles, how about you come in tomorrow morning and help Lauren with the delivery? We’re not leaving before noon so there’s enough time for that…" she smiled mischievously at her son "I would feel bad if I’d let poor Lauren handle it alone…"

"That’s really not necessary!" the girl in question protested but was shut down by just one look of the older woman.

"You know how these delivery people are! They will drop the stuff right at the entrance and you have to carry around those heavy packages all by yourself! So no, Charles will help you, right?"

"Of course! Yeah… Maman is right, you shouldn’t carry all of that alone. That’s- umm no, I’m coming. Just tell me when I should be here…" Charles said hastily, looking at Lauren.

"Umm-… the mail said they’ll be here at around 8 am so… yeah at 8?" she replied shyly and Charles nodded.

"I’ll be here then."

"Perfect!" Pascale clapped her hands gently, making Ava giggle.

Lauren was tossing and turning, not able to fall asleep. No matter what she did, when she closed her eyes she saw Charles blueish-green eyes and his dimply smile in front of her. His loving eyes whenever he looked at his daughter. Ava. The most gorgeous baby girl she has ever seen. She had her father’s eyes and dimples. A cute little button nose, chubby cheeks and a bright smile that was giving her father’s a run for its money. Lauren was nervous meeting Charles all alone. No Pascale to bridge the awkward silence. Only the two of them. Alone. She didn’t even know why she was nervous. Just that she was. Which was weird. She never felt that way before and she didn’t know if she liked it or not.

"Get yourself together, Rachel." she mumbled into the dark room, sighing after a moment "Lauren. I’m Lauren."

She checked the time and groaned. 1 am already. She turned on her side. Closing her eyes taking a deep breath, Charles face in front of her immediately. But this time she ignored it. Yes, he was attractive. Yes, there were some weird feelings stirring inside of her. But it didn’t matter. He was Pascale’s son. He had a daughter which probably meant he had a beautiful girlfriend or wife as well. Out of her league. Not that she even thought about anything like that. She already had a long enough list of problems. A crush on an unavailable man who’s also the son of her boss wasn’t going to make it on that list. And still it was Charles face she saw when she fell asleep. Unfortunately it wasn’t his face that made her wake up. Sweaty and heavy breathing. Heart racing. She had a nightmare that her father and even worse Tony had found her. Taking her back home against her will. Threatening her life and everyone who was kind to her if she wouldn’t come back. Lauren felt sick. It wasn’t the first time she had a nightmare like this. The first one or two weeks after she ran away were filled with nightmares. But since she arrived in Europe, brought a whole ocean between her and her old life, the nightmares were gone. Or at least she thought so. Lauren sat up and grabbed her water bottle, gulping it almost down in one go. With one hand she was brushing her hair out of her sweaty face, with the other she was searching for her phone to check the time.

"Fuck!" Lauren let out, scrambling out of the bed. 7:58 am. "Why? Why last night? Out of all nights I had to have a nightmare last night!" she mumbled.

Lauren left the storage room, her heart sinking when she saw Charles waiting through the storefront, talking with what looked like the delivery guy.

"I’m so, so sorry! I didn’t hear my alarm!" Lauren unlocked the door, pulling both sides wide open "I hope you didn’t have to wait too long…"

"Oh no, it’s alright..." Charles began with a big smile "We didn’t even wait for…" his smile faded immediately and worry was etched on his features "Are you okay?"

"Huh?" Lauren turned, looking at him.

"You’re awfully pale…" he replied and she just waved him off.

"Oh-… umm… of course. It was just a little stressful when I realised that I’m too late!" she tried to reassure him and then quickly turned to the delivery guy "But now I’m here and we can start…"

"Sure." he nodded and started to unload 3 big and heavy looking packages, dropping them off at the entrance, followed by a handful of smaller packages "That’s all, I need you to sign here… and here…"

"I didn’t even know that Maman planned on remodelling the salon…" Charles said after he sat down the last of the 3 big packages.

"We talked about it and well one thing lead to another…" Lauren shrugged, opening one of the smaller packages "We made a mood board, looked up some stuff online and then we already ordered it…"

"Wow, my mother usually isn’t the spontaneous type. She takes her time making decisions, thinking everything through. You must have made quite the impression on her."

"I told her that the salon looks amazing, there is nothing that needed to be changed!" Lauren quickly replied "I didn’t tell her that she should do it…"

"No! That’s not-… I didn’t mean it like that. Umm- like you talked her into it! I know her, talking her into something doesn’t work. I just meant that the ideas you had must’ve been amazing, otherwise she wouldn’t be on board that quickly!" Charles looked at her with wide eyes.

"Oh. Well, she knows what she wants. And I was just lucky enough ti find the perfect stuff online…"

"Can I see it?" he asked "The mood-board?"

"Oh? Sure…" she searched through her phone, handing it over to Charles "That was the vision…"

He didn’t reply immediately, looking at the design, the different textures and colours.

"Wow…" Charles let out, looking at her "I understand why my mother agreed. It looks amazing, Lauren."

The way he said her name made the girl shiver, taking her phone back.

"It’s nothing…"

"It is. Really. You have an eye for details."

"My mother and I, we used to watch HGTV all day long. The home renovation shows were our favourite. It was either nurse or interior designer for me…"

"Why did you choose being a nurse then?" Charles asked curiously.

Lauren was silent for a moment. Thinking about the best way to answer his question.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry…" he added but she shook her head.

"I wanted to help people. People that got hurt or are sick. So yeah… nurse it was." Lauren replied, swallowing hard.

The truth was, she wanted to become a nurse because she saw what her father and his line of work did to people. A part of her was hoping she could get rid of the guilt she felt over the pain they’ve caused. Another part always had to think back at her mother and the night of their accident. How helpless she felt.

"Lauren?" Charles soft voice made her flinch "Are you okay?"

"Hmm?" she looked at him confused.

"You were a little- umm… absentminded…" he took a step closer, looking in her eyes, noticing the tears gathering.

"Yeah…" she replied, her voice hoarse.

"You sure?" Charles asked when a single tear rolled down the girls cheek and without thinking about it he gently wiped it away with his thumb, cupping her cheek.

"I was just thinking of something…" Lauren breathed out when the door to the salon opened and Pascale walked in, followed by a boy carrying Ava, making Lauren taking a step away from Charles, looking at her boss.

"Are we interrupting something?" the boy, who looked a lot like Charles just younger, asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Ferme-la, Arthur!" Charles hissed, making Arthur held up his hand.

"Lauren, this is Arthur, my youngest son… and you know little Ava by now…" Pascale introduced Lauren to Arthur.

"The famous Lauren. I’ve heard so much about you already!" he grinned at her.

"Hopefully good things?" Lauren said nervously.

"Only good things, no not even good, my mother was praising you. Basically everything about you… but saying you’re a really pretty girl was a total understatement…" he winked and Lauren felt herself blush.

"Stop it, Romeo!" Pascale rolled her eyes but had to smirk at the look Charles was giving his younger brother "I brought some breakfast for my little hard workers."

"I’m starving!" Arthur exclaimed.

"I wasn’t talking about you. What did you do besides carrying your niece around? Right. Nothing." Pascale put down a paper bag and two cups on the counter "This is for you two." she smiled at Charles and Lauren.

"That wasn’t necessary!" the girl mumbled.

"Don’t think I didn’t notice how little you eat! You really should’ve accepted my offer and move in with me instead of living in the storage room with no way to cook an-…"

"What? You sleep in the storage room?" Charles made big eyes, looking at Lauren "But-… that room is tiny! And dusty! Is there even a window?"

"It’s fine! There is a window. It’s not dusty. The bed is comfy. It’s just until I got my feet on the ground…" she replied hastily.

"Yeah and you could’ve done that at my place just as good…" Pascale sighed.

"Maman is right! This is just a salon! It’s not safe! Do you know how often there has been break-ins here in the shops?" Charles said, his voice laced with worry "It’s dangerous!"

"This is Monaco… not Nice!" Arthur laughed but stopped as soon as his brother looked at him "But still. Yeah. Dangerous. Living in a shop."

"It’s fine. Really. As soon as my French is better and I can do my qualification and start working as a nurse I’ll look for a flat! Until then, the store is just fine!"

"I don’t kn-…" Charles got interrupted by his phone and he pulled it out of his pocket "Hang on a minute, I gotta take that call…" he groaned groaned, stepping out of the shop.

"Arthur? I need your height!" Pascale voice came out of the storage room and he got up looking around.

"Could you hold her?" he looked at Lauren.

"Of course!" she smiled and took Ava out of Arthur’s hands "Hello, pretty girl." she cooed at her, making the little girl smile "Aren’t you adorable!"

Ava looked at Lauren with her big, bright eyes, cuddling into her chest, making adorable sounds that made Lauren’s heart swell. The little girl was grabbing the strings of her hoodie playing with it, happily chortling.

Outside of the salon Charles ended the call, sighing frustrated when he looked through the storefront, seeing his daughter smiling brightly at Lauren. His heart skipped a beat and his insides began to warm up. Holding Ava looked so natural to Lauren. Like she never did anything else in her life and Charles smiled. He quietly opened the door and walked inside, leaning against the wall, watching his daughter and Lauren. She cooed at Ava, gently caressing her cheek making the little girl snuggle up into her arm, happily giggling. Like in trance Charles watched the scene in front of him, not able to interrupt it.

"Oh wow, look at that, she loves you! Normally she’s super fuzzy with strangers! But with you? Charles, I think you have some competition…" Arthur laughed, walking back in and Lauren looked up, spotting Charles leaning against the wall.

"Yeah… I think so too, she seems to like you a lot…" he replied, looking at her with an intense gaze, making her blush slightly.

"She’s a perfect little girl. It’s easy with her…" Lauren smiled at Ava who yawned a little.

"A tired little girl. Come on sweet girl…" Arthur began, holding out his hands, but Ava turned her head away, snuggling even more into Laurens chest "Hey! You stole my niece from me!"

"I’m sorry." the girl chuckled and looked down at Ava.

"Don’t be… he’s just jealous. Ava has good taste in who she likes, that’s all…" Charles pushed off the wall, walking over to the two girls and his daughter lifted her head, hearing her fathers voice this close.

"But no one beats her dad…" Lauren smiled right as Ava held her hand out for Charles and she carefully handed the little girl over "Understandable…" she whispered underneath her breath.

After a few moments of silence, Pascale came back from the storage room, seeing Charles with Ava in his arms standing close to Lauren while Arthur sat on the counter, scrolling through his phone.

"Alright, I guess we’re done here…" she began "We just have to figure out where Lauren will stay…"

"Here! Like I said. I’ll be fine!" the girl in question protested again.

"No. I should’ve insisted when you moved here in the first place! You’re coming to my place!" Pascale said with a finality in her voice.

"But you won’t even be here for the next weeks! I can’t possibly just move into your apartment without you being there! That’s not right…"

"How about Lauren joins us at our holiday and you can figure out where she stays after? This way she’s not all alone for the next weeks. The house we’ve rented has enough rooms!" Arthur suggested and Lauren looked at him with big eyes.

"What? No-… that’s no… I can’t! This is family! I can’t intru-…" she stammered but stopped when Charles looked at her, a soft smile on his lips.

"You know what Arthur? I think that was the best idea you ever had!" he winked at his younger brother who shrugged his shoulders.

"Then it’s settled. You’re coming with us. No discussion… now come on… let’s pack!" Pascale excitedly clapped her hands together.

Lauren stood in front of the big yacht. Sedici. Sixteen. She turned to Charles, eyes big.

"How rich are you? Renting an entire yacht this size? That must cost a fortune!" she said shocked and he laughed.

"Now imagine how rich someone has to be to own it…" he winked and held out his hand for her to take.

"It’s yours?" she whispered shyly, carefully walking over the gangway.

"Yeah… I bought it last summer…" he nodded.

Lauren was at a loss of words, standing on board of the beautiful yacht. She knew that people in Monaco were richer than usually, it was Monaco after all. But she didn’t expect people to be that rich to have yachts like this. Or at least not normal people. Celebrities? Yeah. Millionaires? Of course. But Pascale had a hair salon. She knew that she wasn’t making a ton of money with it. So she didn’t think she was part of Monaco’s high society, so why would her son be?

"Lauren?" Charles gentle voice coaxed her out of her thoughts and she shook her head "You want me to give you a little tour?"

"Yeah. Sure…" she replied and followed him inside.

The yacht was beautiful. Simple, yet elegant. Everything shiny and sleek. The sofas looked soft and comfy. The beds in the cabins even more so. The upper deck with the steering wheel was her favourite place tho. It had a padded sundeck from where you could overlook the entire yacht.

"We’ll arrive in Ajaccio tonight and tomorrow in the morning we head to Olbia… or rather near Olbia…" Charles explained the route and Lauren looked at him "Don’t worry, I’m a pretty decent captain." he laughed.

"I’ve never been that long on the water…" she mumbled.

"Don’t worry, in the first aid kid we’ve got something against seasickness."

"That’s good to know." Lauren smiled when Arthur climbed up the stairs next to them.

"Everyone on board, we can take off." he said and Charles nodded.

"So, Lauren, will you be my co-captain for the day?" he asked her in a serious tone, too serious, and the girl laughed, a sound that made his heart flutter.

"It would be an honour, captain!" she replied and Charles smiled before he started to explain her the different buttons and displays on the dashboard.

Lauren watched Charles steer the yacht out of the marina onto the open sea with ease, a soft smile on his lips. It didn’t take long and the coastlines of Monaco and France were long gone behind them and after a while there was only the Mediterranean sea on the horizon. Lauren was fascinated with how at ease Charles was, almost as if he wouldn’t do anything else in his life then sailing the oceans. The light breeze in his hair, the dimples on his face, it made him all look even more handsome.

"Alright, we’re on the right course now…" Charles checked the displays and got up from his seat "Let’s go downstairs, meet the rest of the group."

"Yeah… sure…" Lauren nodded and followed him down the stairs.

She was nervous, meeting the rest of the family, Ava’s mother and Charles’ best friend, as he told her would be here as well, but she put on a brave smile and entered the cabin.

"Ahh there you are, we were just getting everything ready for a little lunch!" Pascale smiled at them "I was about to send Arthur up to come and get you…"

"I’m starving!" Charles said, kissing his mother’s cheek "Where’s Ava?"

"Charlotte is changing her diaper." Arthur replied when he walked in, a pretty girl following him "Lauren, this is Carla, my girlfriend. Carla meet Lauren."

"Hi, it’s nice to finally put a face to the name!" Carla smiled at her, pulling her into a light embrace "Pascale talked a lot about you!"

"Yeah, I heard about that…" Lauren replied, smiling at Carla.

"Oh don’t worry, she only said good things about you!"

"There are only good things to say about her!" Pascale added, smiling fondly at her young assistant, making her blush.

The door to the cabins downstairs opened and a breathtaking beautiful young woman walked out, cradling Ava to her chest. Lauren was sure that she must’ve been her mother. Ava didn’t look particularly like her, but just from how beautiful she was, her big smile, she was sure.

"All clean again!" she said in French "Oh, sorry! Hi, you must be Lauren! I’m Charlotte." she switched to English and smiled at her.

"Hi, nice to meet you." Lauren replied.

"Enzo will be out in a minute he had to change, this little one here peed on him…" she chuckled.

"Not funny!" a young man, Enzo probably, said, walking through the door "Hi Lauren! It feels like I already know you from how much Maman was talking about you! I’m Lorenzo, or Enzo, the older brother."

"The oldest. It’s just us…" Arthur whispered.

"Anyways. It’s nice to finally meet you in person!" Lorenzo smiled at Lauren.

"Nice to meet you too." she replied and watched how he gently slung his arm around Charlotte’s waist, pulling her to his side.

The movement felt intimate, lovingly, and Lauren wondered if her assumption, that Charlotte must be Ava’s mother and therefore Charles girlfriend, was right. As if Charlotte sensed her confusion she smiled at her.

"I’m Lorenzo’s girlfriend."

"Oh, okay… I thought that… umm- never mind…" Lauren said hastily when Ava turned her head a little and the moment she spotted Charles and Lauren she began to happily babble.

"Oh, sure, you see your dad and the rest of us is long forgotten…" Charlotte joked and walked over to Charles, but right when she wanted to hand him his daughter the little girl held her hand out to Lauren, chortling "Ohhh look at that…" Charlotte handed Ava over to Lauren and she immediately snuggled into her chest, sighing contently.

"Ouch… looks like you’re not her favourite any-…" Arthur laughed but stopped when Charles looked at him.

"It’s like I said… she has good taste in who she likes…" he smiled, gently brushing over Ava’s cheek "Really good taste."

"Sorry…" Lauren replied and he looked at her confused.

"For what?"

"I don’t know… she umm- she probably wanted to you… not me…" she said quietly and Charles began to laugh.

"Oh stop it, really." he smiled "She likes you, that’s not a bad thing!"

Lauren nodded slowly, feeling relieved and then looked down at Ava, half asleep.

"Oh wow, look! She’s almost asleep! This fast! Lauren, you’re a natural!" Arthur said impressed.

"Who’s a natural?" a dark haired boy walked inside, a plate of veggies and a basket full of bread in his hands "Ohhh the famous Lauren is here! I was wondering when Charles would finally come down and let us all meet you! He wanted you all to himself as it seemed…"

"Very funny, Joris…" Charles rolled his eyes "Lauren, this is my best friend, Joris. He thinks he’s funny… which he’s not…"

"You’re right… I’m not funny, I’m hilarious!" Joris wiggled his eyebrows and smiled at Lauren "It’s nice to meet you, Lauren… these boys went crazy about you, from all the things Pascale has told us about you!"

"Okay, okay, stop now! Leave her alone. That poor girl has to hear from all of you how much I talked about her all the time and feels uncomfortable if you people can’t tell!" Pascale stepped in and Lauren blushed a little "They are right, dear, I told them about you because I wanted you to meet them all. And now that that happened, let’s stop hogging at her like that, will you?"

Everyone mumbled in agreement and Lauren smiled shyly.

"It’s okay…" she said, looking down at Ava who made a little sound, but was still fast asleep.

"Here, you can put her down…" Charles lewd her to the side where a little crib stood and Lauren gently placed the little girl in the middle of it.

"She’s really gorgeous…" she whispered, loving the way Ava’s nose was scrunching up a little.

"She is…" Charles agreed and smiled at the way how Lauren looked at his daughter "Now come on, let’s eat…"

Lauren sat on the deck, stargazing when a shadow to her left caught her eye and she watched Charles making his way onto the deck.

"I guess I’m not the only one who couldn’t sleep then?" he said quietly and she nodded slightly.

"Yeah, I guess I first have to get used to the rocking of the boat while sleeping…"

"Oh. Yeah. That takes a few nights…" Charles chuckled looking at the girl next to him.

Lauren wore shorts and an oversized sweatshirt, her hair a messy bun on top of her head, but to Charles she looked breathtaking and he had to force himself to look away, to not keep on staring at her.

"Can I ask you something?" her voice hesitant.

"Sure."

"It’s really private and you don’t have to answer if you’re uncomfortable."

"Ask me." he knew the question already.

"Umm-… where is Ava’s mum?" Lauren looked at him and he kept his eyes trained on the dark horizon.

Lauren knew that she went too far, Charles was too quiet and right when she wanted to apologise he sighed, tilting his head to look at her.

"She’s not in our life. She never was… she didn’t want to be a mum, didn’t want to keep Ava, so I decided to take care of her alone. As a single dad…" there was some bitterness in his voice "It was a one night stand. A stupid mistake I made and when Ava’s mother came to me for help we wanted to give her up for adoption right after she was born… my life… my job, it’s hectic, stressful. I’m never for long in one place. Always on the road… I had to focus on my career, being a father didn’t fit into my lifestyle. And she didn’t want to be a mother. Not to a child with me at least. She’s from a religious and conservative family, they would’ve disown her if she was pregnant unmarried. Not in a relationship with the child’s father… so yeah, we had a plan…"

"But then you saw Ava and couldn’t do it?"

"No… it was even earlier… I saw her heartbeat on the ultrasound screen and I knew this little thing was mine… and I would do everything for it… flash forward and I have this beautiful little girl…" his voice wavered a little when he held up his phone that showed Ava sleeping in her crib.

"I would say you made the right decision. Ava… she’s wonderful…" Lauren smiled at him.

"Yeah… I know I made the right decision, but it’s hard… being away so often… leaving her behind all the time…"

"Okay, I have to ask this, what do you do for a living?" Lauren looked at him and Charles made big eyes.

"You don’t know?"

"No? How?"

"You’re living in Monaco?"

"And?" she was confused.

"And? Maman? She didn’t say anything?"

"No…"

"Okay… umm- well I’m a Formula 1 driver… for Ferrari…"

"Oh. Wow. That’s cool… I guess?"

"You guess?" Charles snorted and Lauren looked at him sheepishly "I guess you’re not into Formula 1 then?"

"No- not really… some of my family were but I never cared for 20 guys driving in circles…" she shrugged and Charles looked offended.

"Driving in circles? We are not driving in circles!" he gently nudged her shoulder "Ouch. That really hurts!"

"I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you!" Lauren chuckled, a sound Charles loved to hear.

"Yeah I can hear that! Unbelievable…" he shook his head laughing "Driving in circles… unbelievable… thank god you’re cute, otherwise I would’ve thrown you overboard!"

"Now you’re exaggerating!" Lauren laughed, although she felt her cheeks reddening.

"Absolutely not!" Charles shook his head.

"I’m very sorry for not knowing who you are, what you do and how big of a thing it is. Please accept my sincere apology." Lauren smiled at him.

"Apology accepted… but I’m coming back to this conversation and then-…" he began when Ava’s faint cries were heard from his phone "She saved you. For now…" he laughed and got up "You should also try to get some sleep…" he held out his hand and Lauren sighed, taking it.

"I guess I have to try and get used to the waves…"

"You definitely have to. We spent a lot of time on the water… and as part of the Leclerc clan, you will too." Charles smiled at her and when Lauren climbed into her bed, she couldn’t stop smiling, thinking about Charles words.

She was part of the Leclerc clan?

Lauren stepped off the dinghy onto the dock, looking at the big house in front of her and she gulped. Never before did she see a house, no mansion, like this before. It was huge. Beautiful. The pool alone was bigger than in some hotels she’s been before. The lawn looked so fresh, green and soft, she just wanted to lay down on it.

"What do you say?" Charles asked her and she tilted her head, looking at him with big eyes.

"I have no words…" Lauren replied and he laughed.

"I take it that’s something good?"

"It is… it really is…"

"Wait until you’ve seen the inside!" Carla took her hand and pulled Lauren with her "When Arthur showed me the pictures I was just… I was speechless!" the younger girl was excited and didn’t stop until they stood in the big living room and Lauren looked around.

It looked straight out of an interior design magazine. Everything was in warm shades of cream, beige and white. The huge windows let in the bright sunlight. The sofas looked like they were made out of the softest of fabrics. But what caught her eye was the big book shelf that spanned across the entire wall. It was like a library, from Shakespeare over Emily Brontë to The Lord of the Rings, a wide variety of different books were to find and she couldn’t stop herself from carefully pulling out a book here and there that piqued her interest. She completely forgot about where she was, or how long she was already looking through the books when Charles voice behind her made Lauren flinch and she turned around.

"What do you say?" he repeated his question from outside again.

"Wow…" was all she could say and he smiled.

"Wow indeed…"

"I was already saying to your mum that I need to find a bookstore so I could buy a book or two because… well this vacation was on such short notice that I didn’t have anything to read… but I guess that won’t be necessary anymore…"

"Nope, there are enough books for you to read…" Charles replied "Ready to see your room?"

Lauren only nodded and followed Charles through the house when he lead her to a hallway with 3 doors on each side. He opened the middle one on the right and walked inside, Lauren right on his heels.

"And this is your room…"

"Always when I think it can’t get any better this place surprises me even more…" she let out and walked over to the big French doors that lead onto the terrace with a beautiful view of the pool and the sea.

"My room is next to yours. I let you unpack and get settled… if you need anything, just let me know." Charles smiled and turned around, ready to leave the girl alone.

"Wait!" she went after him and when he turned around again Lauren hugged him "Thank you. Really."

"You don’t have to thank me!" Charles whispered, gently stroking her back.

"Yes I have to. You didn’t have to take me here with you…"

"I told you last night. You’re part of the Leclerc clan now…" he chuckled and Lauren pulled away a little, looking into his eyes.

"Well… then thank you for that…"

Lauren stood in front of the mirror, pulling the flimsy fabric into place. When she bought the bikinis a couple of weeks ago she didn’t think that she would spent a family vacation with her boss and her sons in Sardinia. But now that she looked in the big mirror in the bathroom she wasn’t sure if going out with what she was wearing was appropriate. She groaned frustrated and tried on the dark red bikini, that covered slightly more but still felt too exposed. She could hear some commotion outside at the pool and carefully pushed the curtain to the side, looking outside. She saw Charlotte sitting on a lounger and she wished she could see what she was wearing and if she was worried for nothing.

"Where’s Lauren?" she heard Carla’s voice from somewhere and stepped away from the window "Lauren?" she knocked on the French door.

"Come in…" Lauren replied.

"You’re missing out on all the fun!" she said when she stepped into the bathroom "Everything okay?" she was looking her up and down.

"It’s inappropriate, isn’t it?"

"What do you mean?" Carla asked confused.

"The bikini, I saw how you looked at it…"

"What? Oh god… no…" she laughed "It’s a bikini? What’s inappropriate about it? I was just thinking that I have the same one, but in a different colour."

"Isn’t it like a little too revealing?"

"And what am I wearing? Half of my ass is out!" she turned around showing Lauren the tight fit of her bikini bottoms "It’s a normal bikini. Were you hiding in here because of that?"

"I… Pascale is my boss… that’s her son’s out there… there’s a baby!" Lauren blushed and Carla gently patted her arm.

"It’s cute that you’re this considerate, but don’t worry. It’s all good! And now come on!" she pulled Lauren with her and together they stepped outside.

It was easy to fit into the group of people and it didn’t take long for Lauren to truly believe into Charles words, that she was a part of the Leclerc clan now.

As the sun was slowly starting to set over the horizon, Lauren stretched a little, soaking in the last rays of sunshine when she decided to have a quick shower before dinner. Only Arthur and Carla were still at the pool, the rest was already getting ready for dinner.

"See you later…" she smiled and got up, making her way over to the terrace, walking straight into, what she thought, was her bathroom. She didn’t notice the lack of her toiletries on the vanity, or the dark swim shorts that were hanging over the towel rack. She only wanted to wash the day off of her and pulled off her bikini top, then stepped out of her bottoms. She stepped inside the shower, starting the water stream and closed her eyes, relaxing. Her skin was hot and dry and she knew that she needed to moisturise her whole body after her shower but for now she just enjoyed the spray of the water. After a couple of minutes she grabbed the bottle of body wash that was provided, lathering her whole body up, it smelled masculine, pine wood and bergamot, but the scent was somehow familiar. She washed the last remaining bubbles off her body and grabbed one of the towels from the shelf, wrapping it around her, before she stepped outside of the bathroom, colliding with a warm, muscular body.

"Oh shit… shit… oh my god… I’m so sorry! I- I must’ve taken the wrong door outside… oh god…" Lauren’s face was flushed, her breathing ragged. She clutched the towel tight to her body, hoping that everything was covered "I’m- I’m so sorry!" she repeated.

"It’s okay… really! Umm- I- I didn’t even look, I didn’t see anything! I mean how? You’re wearing a towel! Do you say you’re wearing a towel? Sounds weird, no?" Charles rambled nervously, turning around and feeling all his blood rush down between his legs, just like when he saw Lauren stepping out in her bikini for the first time earlier today. That damn red bikini that made him feel like an aroused pre teen.

"I just grab my bikini and then I’m leaving! I’m so sorry, Charles…" he heard her walking back into the bathroom "I can’t believe it, this is so embarrassing…" she mumbled.

"Please, don’t be embarrassed! It’s okay, nothing happened…" Charles tried to reassure her but she didn’t reply, after a minute of silence he turned around, Lauren was gone "Damn…" he groaned and let himself fall into his bed, taking a deep breath.

It was only the first day and he was already wondering how he should manage to contain himself for the next two and a half weeks.

"This will be funny…" he sighed.

Chapter 11 - it’s summer break ☀️🕶️🏝️ and the family + Lauren need a little time to relax. They deserve it… and what can I say, Charles will have a hard time watching this gorgeous girl fitting into his life so effortlessly wearing nothing but cute bikinis… more next week 🤭

Please leave a comment/ like/ reblog/ message and tell me how you liked it! I'm dying to hear your thoughts!

If you want to be added to the taglist, drop a comment!

Last but not least, English is not my first language and although I tried my best: please excuse any mistakes I made!

Taglist:

@glitterquadricorn @lottalove4evelyn @janeh22 @itsjustkhaos @mariclerc @fangirlforever2000 @guaaafiiburg

30 notes · View notes

livingformintyoongi · 2 days ago

Text

Safe Haven | Kim Seokjin

Summary: Based on this post by @foryoufics (She also did her version with Jimin, you can read it in this link <3). Warnings: I guess we can say it's a bit angsty, but it also has fluff! Jin is a sweetheart and tries to comfort his wife because he can't stand to see the love of his life sad. Pairing: Fem!reader x Kim Seokjin Word count: 2.3k Permanent Taglist: @thunderg @minjianhyung @queenv1997 @yoongtism @lizzymizzy-blogg @superbbananananana @drpepperobsessed @themwordsblog @taekritimin123 @bluecloudss @yooglefics @tan-veee @angellekookie @madussthoughts Dividers by @kodaswrld

This day had been more exhausting than any other. You were used to carrying the weight of everything, filling your mind with questions generated by your anxiety that made you overthink everything over and over again: Am I enough? Am I trying too hard? What have I done wrong? Those, and hundreds of other questions, made your insecurity take over every corner of your mind.

And honestly, you were so tired of it all.

“Y/N…” your father murmured behind you, watching you as your attention remained focused on the oven in front of you. You had spent the last few weeks going back and forth from your house to your father’s café, trying to do everything you could to help him, to be useful, all in hopes that someone, anyone, would notice your efforts.

Customers love this kind of stuff, right? Cakes make people happy, you wanted to make people happy with your work, was that too much to ask?

“I just put the muffins in the oven, so we can’t take them out yet. Should I start making the cookie dough? Mom said they’ve been selling the most these past few days.”

“Y/N, stop.” You felt your father’s hands land firmly on your shoulders, forcing you to shift your focus towards him. You could see it in his face, that look everyone had been giving you these past few days: pity, sadness. You really hated it. “I really appreciate that you want to help, and I’ve enjoyed having you back after all this time apart, but I think it’s time for you to… go home.”

“What do you mean?” you whispered, feeling your heart shrink in your chest at his request. Were you bothering your father now? Were you not being helpful to him either? Had you become a second choice for him as well?

“You’ve been coming here for weeks, working nonstop, we barely have time for ourselves…” He paused before continuing, his eyes, although hesitant, stayed locked on yours. “You barely have time for yourself. You’re still so young, you have a life out there, a husband, friends… You shouldn’t be wasting your time with your parents. We’ve lived a whole life with you, it’s time for you to start living yours, sweetheart.”

Ah.

You wanted to cry again.

How could you explain to your father that he was wrong about most things?

You had no friends, at least not any who cared in the same way you cared for them. You felt like your life was crumbling little by little, like you had built a house of bricks that you kept demolishing because one of them didn’t fit with the others. And your husband… Ah, Jin, your dear husband.

Thinking about him brought you a little peace. For a second, you felt the pressure in your chest become a little more bearable; Jin loved you, he always had, he was one of the few people who always put you first. You were always his first choice, even when dozens of women were in love with him. He was always there for you when your mind played tricks on you, and he was always patient with you, even when you couldn’t be with yourself.

You loved Jin, and he loved you, and that gave you a deep peace amidst the storm that was your mind.

“I’ve called him to come pick you up, he should be here soon,” your father’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and you quickly refocused on him as he came closer to place a soft kiss on your forehead. “Go home and rest for a bit, okay?”

You let out a soft sigh, one that sounded just like how you felt: exhausted. “Alright… thank you.”

Your eyes began to sting the moment his arms enveloped you in a warm hug. This was exactly why you came here. The warmth of home, the security your parents gave you, the fact that no matter what happened, you would always be their daughter, someone irreplaceable, someone they would always love.

You squeezed your father’s sturdy body against yours, using all your strength, holding onto his shirt as if you were that little girl again who would come crying to her parents’ room after a nightmare, needing the comfort of the only people who could protect her from the horrors of the outside world.

The soft ringing of a bell followed by the sound of the door closing caught your attention. You barely peeked your face from your father’s neck, just enough to see who it was. You almost let out a sob when you saw Jin standing in the doorway, looking like he had just run a marathon.

Had he really come here running just to pick you up?

“Sorry for the delay, traffic was crazy,” he let out a laugh, not the usual one that made everyone around him laugh, but one more nervous, as if he wanted to lighten the mood with a poor attempt at humor. “Uh… are you ready to go or…?”

“No, no, I’m… I’m ready,” you murmured, letting go of your father’s shirt and saying goodbye with a barely perceptible smile. “Goodbye, Dad, see you later,” you gently patted his shoulders, a small part of you still refusing to let him go completely, maybe that inner child that still lived within you, needing the shelter of your parents. On the other hand, the more mature side of you, the one that governed most of you, knew you couldn’t stay here baking cakes and cookies forever.

So, you let him go.

“Let’s go,” you said quietly to Jin, walking straight to the door to leave the place. The suffocating feeling was hard to shake off, even when you were outdoors, and the slight pressure in your chest was becoming more unbearable. You had barely stepped outside, and already felt like you were about to crumble.

“Sweetheart,” Jin’s voice sounded far away to you, was it your imagination? Had you walked too far? Had your thoughts become so loud that even the voices of real people now seemed muffled and lifeless? “Why don’t we sit down for a second?”

You didn’t respond before his hands took yours and guided you to a small bench in the park just a few meters from your parents’ café. When had you walked so far?

His soft hands gently held yours as he helped you sit down on the bench. Your tumultuous and overwhelming thoughts, although still present, seemed to shrink into a small corner of your mind, allowing you to return to the real world. Allowing you to see Jin.

His dark brown eyes watched your face with attention, and one of his hands had risen to your cheek without you noticing. His touch made you melt into him the moment your brain fully processed what he was doing. It felt good to have him close.

“I’m not going to pressure you or anything, because I don’t want your little head playing against you more than it already has, so I’ll ask you this question, and if you don’t want to answer it, then we’ll just go on as if nothing happened until the moment you’re ready, okay?” A small smile appeared on his plump lips when he saw you nodding quietly. Well, at least you were listening, that was progress. “Can you tell me why you’re like this?”

“I… I don’t know,” you whispered with a broken voice. You hated that question, hated the answer, and hated how the urge to cry began to flood you again to the point where even breathing became hard, like the pain in your chest grew stronger, and how you couldn’t see clearly due to the salty water beginning to form in your eyes.

You hated feeling like this.

“Are you sure?” Jin asked, tilting his head slightly so he wouldn’t lose eye contact with you. It was only then, when you saw the worry in his face, that you broke down.

Finally, you let everything you had inside pour out in the form of a messy cry, cheeks filled with tears and soft gasps hidden between sobs that made it hard to speak normally. The only comfort you had were Jin’s strong and warm arms wrapped around your body protectively, trying to calm your sadness with sweet words, soft kisses on your shoulder, and caresses on your back.

You were a walking mess right now, yes, but, for some reason, it felt comforting. Crying on the shoulder of one of the most important people to you, letting out the pain that had been in your chest… it felt liberating.

“It’s okay… everything will be okay,” he whispered beside your ear, using one of his hands to stroke your hair. You could feel his head resting against yours and his hands holding you tightly against him, as if he knew you felt like you were going to collapse at any moment.

“I feel so… so alone,” you groaned between sobs, hiding your face in that area where his neck met his shoulder. The hiccups became more constant, making it really hard for you to speak, but that didn’t stop you, not now that you could finally get it out of your mind. “I’ve tried everything, Jin, but no matter how hard I try, no matter how many times I try… it’s never enough.” You clenched your jaw, trying to stop a sob from escaping too loudly; you were still aware enough to remember you were in a public place. “I’m never enough for anyone.”

“Hey, hey,” he pulled away slightly from you, creating enough distance to take your cheeks in his hands so he could look you in the eyes. “Sweetheart, look at me.” His warm, soft thumbs wiped away the stream of tears falling from your eyes, and although he couldn’t stop the sobs from escaping, the way he caressed your face managed to calm your crying a bit. “What are you talking about? What do you mean by that?”

“It’s just that… I’ve tried everything to be what everyone always expects. I always gave my best to fit in with other people and no matter how much I try, it never seems to work," you said, your voice shaky, your eyes avoiding Jin's every few seconds because you were completely incapable of looking him in the eye. "I'm always the second choice, Jin. No one has ever truly considered me; Seojoon always invites Seulgi to his outings and only turns to me when she cancels, the same happens with Jumin and Seyeon and with absolutely all of my friends." You covered your eyes with your hands, just like a five-year-old child trying to wipe away tears or hide their gaze. "Am I that unpleasant? Is it really that hard to think of me as someone other than the replacement for someone else?"

"Of course not," he quickly shook his head, frowning when he heard your concern. Jin had known you’d been having some issues with your friends lately; he figured it out when you started going to your parents' café, but he never thought it was because of the insecurity their actions were causing you. "It's not hard to love you, of course it’s not! Loving you is as easy as breathing, it’s... it’s something you do unconsciously, that's it!" He moved his face closer to yours, gently pressing your foreheads together. "I'm sure this is all a misunderstanding, but even if it's not, what does it matter what they think? Other people's decisions don't define your worth."

"But—"

"No, Y/N, no buts," he said with the softest voice he could, lifting your face so he could kiss your forehead. "You are the sweetest, most thoughtful, and loving woman I’ve ever met in my life; you are my best friend, my wife, the love of my life, and I won’t let you speak ill of someone so important to me because of idiots who don’t know how to value the wonderful friend they have." He couldn't help but smile when he heard you let out a soft laugh at his comment. Good, he had managed to calm your tears a little. "Friends come and go, if they really loved you, they’d stay by your side through the good and the bad... maybe you haven't found the right people yet, but you’re still young, you still have time to find a circle where you’re accepted for who you are, not for who you pretend to be to please them." He gently stroked your cheeks, watching as your red nose scrunched up slightly and your brow furrowed. "And until then, I’ll be by your side, I’ll take care of you at all times because you are my best friend, and I’ll be with you no matter what, understood?"

You took a deep breath. Slowly, you counted to 10, regulating your breathing as best as you could. Then, you nodded. "Understood."

"Good, then," he stood up from the floor, taking your hands to help you up from the bench, never stopping the gentle caress of your knuckles. "What do you think about going home, I’ll make your favorite food, and we can watch a couple of movies until we fall asleep?"

You smiled faintly, watching as your husband smiled back at you cheerfully, as if you didn’t look like a complete mess at the moment.

"That sounds perfect," you murmured, giving his hands a soft squeeze before starting to walk back to where his car was parked.

Jin glanced at you from the corner of his eye, noticing how your gaze stayed low and melancholic, but less depressed than before. He knew it would take time to lift that weight from your heart completely, but he was willing to wait and help in any way he could to make that fear disappear.

Masterlist.

#bts x reader #bts x you #bts fanfic #bts imagine #bts x y/n #bts x fem!reader #fanfic #fiction #jin x y/n #jin x reader #jin x you #seokjin x you #seokjin x y/n #seokjin x reader #kim seokjin x reader

38 notes · View notes

xoxorealitygalore · 20 hours ago

Text

Trust and Believe IX

summary: Keyshia and Joe had a seemingly perfect life together after marrying in 2010. However, as their careers grew, so did the strain on their relationship. When Joe cheats on Keyshia. The emotional fallout from the incident leaves their relationship hanging in the balance, with Keyshia questioning if they could ever recover from the betrayal.

Joe sat in his living room, the dim light from the television flickering across his tired face. His fingers drummed anxiously against the armrest, the rhythmic tapping a manifestation of the unease gnawing at him.

His cousins Jonathan, Jacob, and Joshua sat in a semi-circle around him, their faces tight with concern, mirroring the same worry Joe felt deep in the pit of his stomach. The air was thick with tension, and the room felt smaller, the silence between them unbearable.

“Uce, you still haven’t heard from her?” Jonathan’s voice cut through the stillness, soft but sharp, as if it were the question on everyone’s mind.

Joe’s gaze remained unfocused, his eyes staring blankly ahead. He didn’t have the answer. He wasn’t sure he ever would. His mind replayed the disastrous events of the past few days, the awkwardness, the anger, the silence, and all of it led to one conclusion: Keyshia was gone.

He shook his head slowly, the movement almost imperceptible. The weight of it all seemed to press down on him with every passing second. He couldn’t remember a time when he had felt so helpless, so utterly lost. The woman he loved, the woman he had hurt so deeply, had disappeared without a trace. And now, here he was, surrounded by his family, unable to offer anything but a sense of hopelessness.

Jonathan’s question hung in the air, unanswered. It was a question Joe didn’t have the heart to respond to directly. He’d tried everything. Calling, texting, pleading. Nothing worked. In the aftermath of the disastrous night, the night they ran into Tyson, Keyshia’s ex-boyfriend, the world had come crashing down around him.

It had been a failed date night, a fragile attempt at salvaging something after everything they’d been through. Joe had hoped it would be a simple, fun evening, a momentary escape from the strain that had settled between them. But then they saw Tyson, sitting across the room at the same restaurant, on a date with the woman that Joe had cheated on Keyshia with. The sight of them together, laughing and sharing an intimate moment, had been the last straw for Keyshia. The pain, the betrayal, the memories, all of it hit her like a tidal wave.

She had fled the scene before Joe could even process what was happening. In a daze, he paid their tab and rushed after her, hoping to catch her before she left. At first, he thought she had caught an Uber home. It seemed like the logical explanation at the time. But when he got home, Keyshia was nowhere to be found. Her things were still in their room, her side of the bed empty.

He had waited up that night, hoping against hope that she would return, that things would somehow right themselves. But when morning came and she still wasn’t there, the reality of the situation settled in. She had disappeared, and Joe was left to pick up the pieces of his shattered marriage.

For three days, Joe had been unable to reach her. His calls went unanswered, his texts went unread. He even sent her a message in desperation: “U can block me all u want doesn’t mean I’m letting u go.”

But Keyshia had blocked him just as she had done with everyone else. The silence from her side was deafening, and with each passing day, Joe's fear grew deeper. What if something had happened to her? What if she was in danger? He couldn’t shake the feeling that she was in pain, that the weight of everything had caused her to retreat into herself, to hide away from it all.

"I’ve been texting and calling everyone trying to figure out where she is, but no one is saying anything," Joe confessed to his cousins, his voice hoarse with exhaustion and worry. "I think she had a nervous breakdown and went into hiding."

There was a long pause before Joshua spoke up, his voice quiet but probing. “Have the kids said anything about her contacting them?”

Joe sighed deeply, a heavy, defeated sound. He rubbed his temples, his mind spinning. His thoughts were consumed by Keyshia’s absence, by the guilt of knowing that he had pushed her to the edge. “The older kids are keeping their lips sealed,” he replied, his voice thick with the weight of truth.

He knew his daughters, Josie and Kayleigh, understood the gravity of the situation. Josie, seventeen, was old enough to grasp the complexities of relationships, to know when things weren’t right. Kayleigh, ten, though younger, had always been sensitive, always attuned to the emotions of those around her. They had seen the pain in their mother’s eyes long before the disastrous encounter with Tyson, and it was clear which side they had chosen. Keyshia hadn’t asked them to take sides, but it was natural for daughters to stick up for their mother. Joe had always known that.

His younger kids were too young to understand what was happening. They hadn’t mentioned anything about Keyshia, and Joe hadn’t expected them to. They were still innocent, untouched by the complexities of the adult world.

“What are you going to do?” Jacob asked after a long silence, his voice softer now, laced with concern for his cousin.

Joe ran his hands down his face, frustration and helplessness mingling in his expression. “I’m trying,” he murmured. His words held a layer of desperation, of yearning for things to be different. “I want her home. I want my marriage and my family. But I won’t sacrifice Keyshia’s mental health for it. If she needs to be away from me at the moment, then I’ll let her be for now.”

His words, though sincere, felt like a hollow promise. How could he just let her go? How could he stand by and watch her slip away when all he wanted was to make things right?

Meanwhile, miles away, Keyshia sat in a dimly lit hotel room, the silence pressing in on her from all sides. The bed was unmade, a single suitcase sitting by the foot, half-packed with the few belongings she had taken when she left. She didn’t know where else to go, and the hotel room felt like a temporary escape, an unfamiliar space where she could think, breathe, and let the weight of the past few days settle before making any decisions. Her phone buzzed incessantly on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with dozens of missed calls and text messages, mostly from Joe.

She had blocked him, a decision made in desperation. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t. Keyshia just needed space, and time to sort through the wreckage of her life, to process the betrayal, the pain, and the exhaustion that had been building for so long.

Joe’s persistence had become suffocating. The constant barrage of messages only served to remind her of the pressure she felt to fix things, to make it all better. But how could she? How could she fix a marriage when the foundation had cracked so deeply? How could she trust again after the betrayal that had cut her to the core?

It wasn’t just Tyson or even Joe’s affair. It was the years of unmet needs, the subtle erosion of their connection, and the slow unraveling of trust that had been wearing her down for far too long. Joe had pushed her to the brink, and now she was standing on the edge, unsure of which way to go.

As if on cue, her phone buzzed again. She rolled over, her body aching with fatigue, and reached for the device. She glanced at the screen, seeing her mother’s name flash across it.

With a deep breath, Keyshia swiped to answer, her finger trembling slightly.

“Keyshia, baby, where are you? What’s going on? Joe’s been calling me nonstop. Everyone’s worried about you.”

Her mother’s voice was a soothing balm, but it only made Keyshia feel more exposed, more fragile. She didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to explain herself, but she knew her mother wouldn’t stop until she heard something.

“I’m fine, Mom,” Keyshia replied, her voice raw and tight with emotion. “I just need some time. I need to be alone right now.”

Her mother, ever the concerned parent, didn’t accept this easily. “Alone? Keyshia, you don’t need to be alone. You need to talk to someone. You can’t run away from this.”

Keyshia’s hand tightened around the phone. She didn’t want to argue, but her emotions were too much to keep in check. “I’m not running, Mom. I just need space to think. I can’t keep pretending everything’s fine when it’s not. I need to figure out what’s next for me.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Her mother wasn’t sure how to respond, but Keyshia could hear the concern in her voice. “I just want you to be happy, sweetheart. I love you.”

“I’ll be okay, Mom,” Keyshia whispered, the words feeling both true and hollow at the same time. “I just need time to breathe.”

She ended the call, her phone lying heavy in her hand. The silence of the room enveloped her once again, and for the first time in days, she felt a fragile sense of peace. There was still so much to figure out, but for now, the only thing that mattered was taking care of herself. The rest could wait.

32 notes · View notes

acute-crashout-jeyuso · 2 days ago

Text

Across the Ropes.. a Zilla Fatu x OC Fanfic.

Chapter 9: Clarity

Dedicated to @cheappop

June 25th, 2025. 3:24 PM

It had been about two weeks since Dahlia had moved out of Sabrina’s apartment. It had also been about two weeks since the last time Dahlia and Sabrina had spoken. Sabrina had kept telling Dahlia that something was up with Cora and Zilla, but for the first time, Dahlia didn’t want to believe anything her best friend said. She wanted to believe that her relationship with Zilla, was perfect.

It also didn’t help that Zilla had insisted Dahlia quit her job. He promised her that he could take care of her and their growing family on his salary. Dahlia had given in, trusting him, even if a small part of her still felt uneasy about leaving the only source of independence she’d had.

Now, all Dahlia did every day was wait for Zilla. She stayed in their beautiful home, alone in the spacious rooms, surrounded by things meant for their future. Occasionally, she’d get out of the house—go to a restaurant, stroll through Babies ‘R Us to buy more things for the triplets. But nothing really filled the void of Zilla’s absence. Even with all the things she’d accumulated for the babies, the excitement of shopping and preparing for their arrival couldn’t distract her from the silence that hung heavy in the house.

The babies had been growing steadily, but the only real company Dahlia had was the soft movements of her triplets. There were days when she’d sit on the couch and talk to them, imagining how their tiny faces would look, what they’d be like. But in the back of her mind, doubts lingered.

Was she really happy?

Dahlia hated to admit it, but some days, the isolation was suffocating. Her mind would wander to the conversations she’d had with Sabrina, the things she didn’t want to believe. Cora and the comment on his Instagram post—it all started to feel like more than just rumors. But she pushed those thoughts away, convincing herself that Sabrina was just jealous. Zilla was hers, and she wasn’t going to let anything come between them, not even doubts.

She glanced at the clock, noting that it was already late afternoon. Zilla hadn’t messaged in a few hours, but that wasn’t unusual. He was always busy with work, but lately, those hours seemed to stretch on longer than ever before. Dahlia picked up her phone and checked for any new messages, but nothing. Not even a “miss you” or “hope your day’s going well.”

She sighed, her thumb hovering over the screen as she thought about reaching out to Sabrina. But what could she say? It had been too long since they’d spoken, and she couldn’t bring herself to open that door again. She didn’t want to hear more accusations, especially not when she still wanted to believe in Zilla, in the life they were building together.

Dahlia set the phone down and looked around the room again. The nursery had been set up—everything in its place. But it felt like something was missing. Her gaze drifted to the window, and for a moment, she imagined what life would be like once the triplets arrived. She tried to focus on the excitement, but it was hard when she didn’t even know if Zilla would be there in the way she needed him to be.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. Dahlia stood up quickly, walking to the window. Zilla’s truck was parked out front, but there was no sign of him getting out. He had brought himself a new truck for him and the kids, it was nothing fancy, but it was something for them to get by. She waited for a few seconds, but he didn’t move.

Something shifted in her chest.

Was she really just waiting for him to come home? Or was she waiting for the person she thought he could be? The man who promised her the world, the man who’d sworn he’d always be there. And if he wasn’t, would she be strong enough to stand on her own, even with the babies on the way?

She shook her head, pushing the thoughts away. She had to stop doubting him.

But as she walked toward the door to greet him, she couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, something had changed.

Zilla finally got out of the truck, his footsteps heavy against the gravel. He grabbed his duffel bag and made his way toward the house. Dahlia stood by the door, offering him a warm smile, eager to see him after a long day. She greeted him with a kiss, feeling the familiar warmth of his lips on hers. “I missed you,” she said softly, her voice carrying a mix of affection and longing.

“I missed you too,” Zilla responded, his tone a little distant, but his words were sincere.

Dahlia watched him closely, noticing the slight tension in his posture as he stepped into the house. “Do you want to eat something?” she asked, hopeful to bring some life back into the evening.

“No, I ate on the plane,” Zilla replied, his gaze already moving toward the stairs.

Dahlia nodded, though the rejection stung a little. She had been hoping for a chance to connect, but it seemed like Zilla wasn’t in the mood.

“Oh, okay,” she murmured, a small sigh escaping her lips.

She had been noticing it more lately—those silent moments between them. It wasn’t the comfortable silence they used to share, where words weren’t necessary because their connection spoke volumes. This was different. It felt like a wall was being built, brick by brick, between them.

Trying to fill the silence, Dahlia suggested, “Our master bedroom is complete if you want to look at it.”

Zilla hesitated for a moment, then nodded, though his expression remained distant. “Yeah, I’m gonna go up right now and take a nap.”

Dahlia bit her lip but nodded, trying to suppress the sinking feeling in her stomach. She grabbed his duffel bag from him, her fingers brushing against his, but it felt like there was no warmth left in the touch. As he walked up the stairs, she couldn’t help but watch him disappear into the hallway, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the quiet house.

Once he was out of sight, Dahlia stood there for a moment, staring at the empty space he left behind. She wanted to feel the same closeness, the same comfort she once felt with him. But now, all she felt was a growing distance, a space between them that seemed to widen with every passing day.

Dahlia walked quietly to the laundry room, the sound of her footsteps almost too loud in the silence that had settled between them. She opened the duffel bag and emptied its contents into the washer, the familiar scent of his clothes filling the air. As she reached for the detergent, she couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that had been lingering all day. She gently placed the empty duffel bag on the floor, its presence another reminder of the growing distance between them.

After a few moments of standing there, lost in thought, she made her way up the stairs to the master bedroom. When she stepped inside, she found Zilla already lying down on the bed, his eyes half-closed, clearly ready for a nap. Dahlia approached him slowly, a small, tentative smile on her lips. She leaned down and kissed him softly, hoping to bridge the gap that had been widening between them.

Zilla didn’t open his eyes, but he sighed as her lips pressed against his. “Babe, I really just want a nap right now,” he muttered, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

Dahlia’s heart sank at his words, but she didn’t let it show. She pulled back, her eyes searching his face. “I just wanna be near you,” she said softly, the sadness creeping into her voice despite her best efforts to keep it at bay.

Zilla’s eyes flickered open briefly, a tired smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I know, babe. But I’m just very tired. It’s constant work. I need to rest.”

Dahlia nodded slowly, though the weight of his words hung in the air. She didn’t say anything more. Instead, she stood there for a moment, looking at him as if she could somehow find the connection they used to have in his tired gaze. But all she saw was distance. She swallowed hard and turned away, her chest tight.

Without another word, she grabbed her phone off the charger, the small distraction offering little comfort. She went downstairs, the soft click of the door closing behind her the only sound breaking the silence.

Sitting down on the couch, Dahlia scrolled through her phone, her fingers moving mechanically over the screen. She wasn’t really reading anything; her mind was elsewhere, lost in the growing uncertainty about her relationship with Zilla. The sadness that had settled in her chest seemed impossible to shake.

She couldn’t help but wonder: Was this what her life was going to be now? Endless waiting, empty moments, and the feeling of being alone even when he was just upstairs?

Dahlia sat on the couch, the ticking clock on the wall echoing in her ears as the hours dragged on. She glanced down at her phone and saw the time—6:46 PM. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten all day. She pushed herself up from the couch, stretching her arms over her head, and made her way upstairs, hoping to find Zilla awake, perhaps in the mood for a quiet meal together.

She reached the master bedroom door again, peering inside. Zilla was still asleep, his breathing steady and deep. Biting her lip, Dahlia quietly approached the bed and gently nudged him awake.

“Hey,” she whispered softly, not wanting to startle him. “Sorry to wake you, but…”

He groaned loudly, his eyes fluttering open for a brief moment. His gaze was distant, unfocused, and before she could finish her thought, he interrupted her with a harsh tone.

“Dahlia, I’m not hungry. Just go and eat. I’ll be fine. I’ll make something for myself later.” His words were blunt, more abrupt than usual, and they hit her like a punch to the gut.

Taken aback by his tone, Dahlia faltered, unsure of how to respond. She had only wanted to spend a few quiet moments with him. But his irritation hung heavy in the air, and it stung more than she expected.

“I thought maybe you’d like to eat with me,” she said softly, trying again, hoping he might soften.

Zilla let out a tired sigh, rubbing his face as he sat up in bed. “I’ve got two more days of rest, and then I’ve gotta go back to work. And Monday, we’re driving to that villa in New Braunfels, staying with my family for a whole week. I’m tired. I’m exhausted. I just want some alone time,” he snapped, his frustration palpable.

Dahlia’s heart sank as she listened to him. She understood he was worn out from work and the pressure of everything that had been happening, but it still hurt to hear him speak so coldly.

“I want some time with you too,” she said quietly, the sadness in her voice creeping through. “But I can’t do this alone. I need you, Isayah.”

His expression hardened, and his voice grew sharper as he replied, “Please, just give me some alone time right now.”

Dahlia’s throat tightened. She wanted to argue, to make him see how much she needed him, but she knew it wouldn’t change anything. He had already made up his mind. With a quick, sharp exhale, she stood up from the bed, her chest tight with emotion.

She walked toward the door, her heart pounding. Before she left, she slammed the door behind her, the sound echoing through the house like the final note of a painful song. The silence that followed felt suffocating, and Dahlia couldn’t help but feel the weight of his words settle heavily on her shoulders.

Dahlia walked downstairs, her mind still swirling with the tension of her argument with Zilla. She spotted her slides near the door and slipped them on, feeling the familiar softness of the soles as she grabbed the keys to the Camaro. Without a word, she walked out of the house, the door closing softly behind her.

The drive to McDonald’s was quiet, the engine’s hum filling the silence between her and the road. It was a familiar routine now—driving alone, the way things had been for the past few weeks. Every mile felt like an escape, but she knew it was temporary.

When she arrived at the fast-food restaurant, Dahlia got out of the Camaro and walked in. The cool air from the AC hit her, a welcome distraction from the heat she felt inside. She stood in line, the sound of chatter and the clatter of trays in the background as families and couples surrounded her. She barely registered their conversations, her mind still lingering on the harshness in Zilla’s voice.

When it was her turn, she ordered her usual—nothing extravagant, just a simple meal to fill the emptiness inside. The worker handed her the receipt, and Dahlia took it with a nod before heading to an empty table in the corner. She sat down, her fingers idly tracing the edge of her cup as she waited for her food.

It wasn’t long before a McDonald’s worker brought her order to the table: a tray with a burger, fries, and the chocolate milkshake she had gotten on a whim. The worker smiled briefly before walking away, and Dahlia turned her attention to the food, taking a small bite of the fries and sipping her milkshake.

She ate in peace, surrounded by families who were lost in their own worlds—laughing, chatting, or simply enjoying their meals. Dahlia envied their calmness, their ability to find joy in the little things. For her, everything felt strained. Even something as simple as eating alone felt like a reminder of how far away she had drifted from Zilla, from the life she thought they were building together.

As the minutes passed, the weight of her loneliness seemed to settle in her chest. She pushed the thought aside, focusing on her meal. It was easier to keep busy, to bury the feelings under the act of eating, of moving through the motions. But no matter how much she tried, the silence of the night always came back, echoing in her mind when she least expected it.

As Dahlia finished the last bite of her Quarter Pounder with Cheese, she couldn’t help but wonder. Had she done something wrong to push Zilla away? She had been trying so hard to make everything work, but the silence between them felt more deafening by the day. Maybe everything was moving too fast—maybe she was too needy, too dependent. She couldn’t shake the thought that something was off, but she couldn’t figure out what.

The chocolate shake was now finished, too, and she put the empty cup and wrappers onto the tray, standing up from her seat. She made her way over to the trash and dumped everything, wiping her hands before heading back out to the Camaro.

The drive back home felt slower somehow. Maybe it was the quiet or the weight of the thought she couldn’t shake. When she pulled into the driveway, she saw his truck parked beside her Camaro. It should have been comforting, but it wasn’t. There was no sign of him inside, which only made the house feel emptier.

Dahlia walked inside, the stillness of the house swallowing her. The door to the master bedroom was still closed, confirming that he was still sleeping. She felt a pang of disappointment but tried to push it away. Maybe he needed his rest.

She made her way to the laundry room and started putting his clothes in the dryer, her hands mechanically working through the task. She tried to focus on the rhythm of it, anything to distract from the emptiness she felt. Once the clothes were set, she walked back to the living room, feeling the weight of the silence in every step.

There, she found comfort in the softness of the couch. She pulled a small blanket over herself, curling up with it as if it could shield her from the overwhelming sense of loneliness. She picked up the remote, turning on one of her comfort shows, Weeds, hoping that the familiar voices and scenes would ease her mind. It didn’t take long before she was tucked in, her eyes already heavy with exhaustion. But even as she settled, she knew sleep wouldn’t bring her the peace she was craving.

For now, though, she’d make do with this—quiet moments alone, buried in the small distractions that kept her from facing the harder truths of her situation.

—

Hours had passed, and Dahlia had drifted into a fitful slumber, the TV show still playing softly in the background. She was on the edge of sleep when she felt the warmth of a kiss press against her neck. Her body stirred, the familiar sensation pulling her from her dreams. She slowly opened her eyes, blinking into the dim light of the living room.

Another kiss—this time, more deliberate—brushed against her skin, and she flinched slightly.

“No,” she muttered softly, her voice thick with sleep and frustration.

Zilla’s voice followed, low and husky. “What’s wrong?”

Dahlia’s chest tightened as she turned her head toward him. She could see him there, his face inches away from hers, as if nothing had changed. But she felt everything shift within her. “I’m not gonna keep going through this,” she whispered, the words heavy with the weight of all the emotions that had been building up.

Zilla furrowed his brow, genuinely confused. “What do you mean?”

Dahlia took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “You keep pushing me away every time you get home. And when you feel like it, you come to me like nothing’s wrong. I can’t keep doing this, Isayah. I can’t just pretend everything is fine when you make it so clear it’s not.”

She paused, the truth of her words sinking in. “I don’t even know where I stand with you anymore. It’s like I’m an afterthought until you need something.”

Zilla stared at her, silence stretching between them. The tension in the air felt suffocating, and Dahlia could feel her heart pounding in her chest. This wasn’t the conversation she wanted to have, but it was the one they needed. She needed him to understand that the distance between them was breaking her, piece by piece.

Zilla’s voice softened, and he took a step closer to her, his hand gently reaching for hers. “Baby,” he said, his tone pleading, “why can’t you just understand that I’m just tired? I’m working every day, grinding for us. I’m working so hard so that when you do have the babies, I can take off as much time as I want, without having to worry about the bills.”

Dahlia looked at him, her chest tight as she processed his words. She wanted to argue, to tell him how much she felt alone, how much she missed him. But something about his words hit her differently tonight. The exhaustion in his eyes, the stress she had seen weighing on his shoulders. Maybe he really was just trying to make things better for them, for their future.

She sighed, running her hand through her hair. “I know you’re doing all of this for us,” she said, her voice quieter now. “I just… I just need you sometimes, Isayah. More than just the occasional kiss or the moments when it’s convenient for you. I need you now, even if you’re tired. I need to feel like I’m not just waiting around.”

She paused, biting her lip. Her words were coming out softer, the frustration melting into something that resembled understanding. “But… I guess I get it. You’re right. You’re working hard so we can have a good future. I just wish you could see that I need you here too, not just when it’s convenient.”

Zilla stood there for a moment, the weight of her words settling in. He had been so focused on working hard, on making sure everything was set for their future, that he hadn’t realized how distant he had become. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, but he could see now that in his pursuit of building a life for them, he’d lost sight of the present—of her, of them.

He took a deep breath and pulled her into an embrace, his hand gently running through her hair. “I’m sorry, Dahlia,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like this. I’ll do better. I promise. I’m just… trying to get us to a place where you don’t have to worry about anything. But I can’t do it without you.”

Dahlia melted into his arms, the tension slowly ebbing away as she let herself relax into him. “I know, Isayah. I know. I just want to feel like I matter too.”

“You do matter,” Zilla said, his voice sincere. He leaned in and kissed her, his lips lingering for a moment longer than usual. When he pulled back, his eyes softened. “Come here.” He took her hand gently, guiding her toward the back door and into the cool evening air.

The moonlight reflected off the water, casting a serene glow over the pool. Zilla undressed slowly, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside, followed by his pants, until he was left in just his briefs. Dahlia followed his lead, her fingers trembling slightly as she slipped out of her clothes, feeling the cool night air on her skin.

They both stepped into the warm water, the heat from the pool mixing with the slight steam rising around them. The water enveloped them, soothing their tired muscles. Zilla immediately pulled Dahlia closer, his hands wrapping around her waist as he held her against him.

“I cherish and care about you so much,” he whispered against her ear, his lips grazing the soft skin of her neck. “I don’t show it enough, but you mean the world to me. You’re everything.”

Dahlia closed her eyes, the weight of his words sinking into her. For the first time in what felt like forever, she let herself feel the warmth of his love without the tension that had been building up between them. She rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as they floated in the pool, wrapped in each other’s arms.

“I just needed you to show me, Isayah,” she murmured, her voice full of calm. “To show me that you’re here. That you’re present.”

Zilla nodded, his hand gently caressing her back. “I’m here. I’m always here, Dahlia. I’ll do better, I promise.”

For a moment, they just held each other, the quiet serenity of the night and the warmth of the water enveloping them. Dahlia finally allowed herself to relax in his embrace, knowing that even though things weren’t perfect, they were still together—and that, in itself, was enough for now.

Zilla picked up Dahlia effortlessly, lifting her with ease as he twirled her gently in the water. The cool, refreshing pool water rippled around them as he smiled at her, the soft moonlight highlighting the curve of her growing belly.

His eyes lingered there for a moment, and a soft chuckle escaped him. “How far along are we?” he asked, his voice tender, a playful glint in his eyes.

Dahlia, her hands resting on his shoulders for balance, looked up at him and smiled, a touch of pride in her voice. “About 17 weeks,” she said.

Zilla’s eyes widened slightly as he gave her a once-over, his gaze softening. “Damn,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “You look like you’re about to pop.”

Dahlia couldn’t help but laugh at his remark, her hands gently resting on her stomach as she looked down at it. “I am growing three babies, you know,” she said with a teasing smile, her voice full of warmth.

Zilla’s smile softened as he placed his hands on her belly, feeling the roundness beneath his fingertips. “Three little ones, huh?” he murmured, his expression growing tender. “I can’t wait to meet them. I’ll be the best dad I can be, for you and for them.”

Dahlia’s heart swelled with a mix of emotions. She knew Zilla had his flaws, but hearing him speak with such conviction about their future brought a sense of peace she hadn’t felt in a while. She reached up to cup his face, her thumb gently brushing over his jawline.

“I know you will be,” she whispered, her voice steady and full of love. “And I’ll be here with you, every step of the way.”

Zilla leaned in, kissing her forehead softly. “We’ve got this, Dahlia. Together.”

The moment hung between them, tender and quiet, as they both basked in the stillness of the night and the promise of their future—however uncertain it might be, they knew they would face it together.

—

The next day, Dahlia and Zilla were at the Houston Galleria, weaving through the busy mall crowds. The air smelled like a mix of cologne from designer stores and the sweet aroma of fresh pretzels from Auntie Anne's.

Dahlia stood in front of the dressing room mirror, adjusting the straps of the pink one-piece swimsuit she had on. She turned to the side, examining how it fit over her growing belly. Satisfied, she gathered the other three swimsuits she had picked out and stepped out of the fitting room.

"I like these," she said, holding up the swimsuits for Zilla to see.

Zilla glanced up from the rack of swim trunks he had been looking through. He was holding a few pairs himself-mostly black, red, and blue. "Yeah, those look nice," he said with an approving nod. "I found some too."

"Good," Dahlia smiled. "Let's check out and go get some food because I am starving."

Zilla chuckled, slinging an arm around her shoulder as they walked toward the register. "You and these babies are always hungry," he teased, rubbing her belly affectionately.

Dahlia rolled her eyes playfully. "Well, maybe if their daddy wasn't a giant, they wouldn't need so much food." Zilla smirked. "Giant, huh?"

She giggled, nudging him as they reached the checkout counter. Once they paid for their swimsuits, they made their way out of the store and into the food court. The smell of fried chicken, burgers, and cinnamon rolls filled the air, making Dahlia's stomach growl.

Zilla glanced at her with amusement. "Damn, what are you in the mood for?"

Dahlia pursed her lips, scanning the different food spots.

"Either Chick-fil-A or that one Cajun place over there," she pointed.

Zilla smirked. "Let's get both. You eat for four now."

Dahlia rolled her eyes but couldn't help but smile as they made their way to order their food. This was what she loved

-simple moments like this, just the two of them, enjoying each other's company.

As they settled into their seats with their food, Zilla still couldn't believe what he had just witnessed. He looked at Dahlia, who was happily dipping a nugget into her Chick-fil-A sauce, completely unbothered by the sheer amount of food she had ordered.

"Baby," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "Did you really just order a 30-count nugget tray?"

Dahlia looked up at him, chewing, and shrugged. "Yeah, and?" she said casually, taking a sip of her chocolate shake.

Zilla let out a laugh. "Damn, I thought I was the one that ate a lot."

"Well," she said, picking up another nugget, "I am feeding three babies who constantly demand food, so I don't wanna hear it."

Zilla smirked, reaching over to steal one of her nuggets.

She smacked his hand away playfully, making him chuckle.

"Alright, alright, l'll let you eat in peace."

Midway through their meal, Zilla's phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at the screen and saw Jey calling. Letting out a small sigh, he picked it up.

"What's good, Uce?" Zilla answered, leaning back in his chair.

"Man, you tell me," Jey responded on the other end. "Y'all planning on bringing any food to the villa or are we gonna be starving out there?"

Zilla rolled his eyes. "Bro, you act like there's not gonna be a kitchen full of food already."

Jey scoffed. "Yeah, but you know how my family eats. If y'all don't bring extra, good luck getting a plate."

Zilla smirked. He knew Jey wasn't wrong. The Fatu family could throw down when it came to eating. If you weren't quick, you'd be left with scraps.

"Aight, I'll figure something out," Zilla said, taking a sip of his drink.

"Cool," Jey replied. "And tell Dahlia to not let you slack on that. I know how you are."

Zilla chuckled, glancing at Dahlia, who was still enjoying her nuggets. "Yeah, yeah, I got it."

"Aight, bet. See y'all in a few days."

Zilla ended the call and put his phone down. Dahlia looked at him with curiosity. "Who was that?"

"Jey," Zilla replied, stealing a nugget while she was distracted. "He wants to make sure we're bringing food to the villa so we don't starve."

Dahlia snorted. "Sounds about right. Your family eats like a damn army."

Zilla grinned. "Exactly. We'll stop by the store before we head out, grab some stuff."

Dahlia nodded, finishing off her last few nuggets. "Good.

Now, can we go to Cinnabon before we leave?"

Zilla raised an eyebrow. "Ain't no way you're still hungry."

Dahlia smirked. "I never said I was hungry. I just want something sweet."

Zilla shook his head, laughing as he stood up. "Alright, let's go before you start craving the whole food court."

Dahlia grinned, grabbing her shake as they made their way toward Cinnabon, ready to satisfy her sweet tooth.

As Dahlia happily munched on her warm cinnamon roll, the sweet scent of cinnamon and icing filling the air, she and Zilla strolled through the mall. That was when her eyes landed on a small boutique tucked between two larger stores.

Maki’s Triple Wonders.

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Zilla, look!” She pointed toward the shop, excitement creeping into her voice. “It’s a boutique specifically for triplet pregnancies!”

Zilla followed her gaze and let out a small chuckle. “Damn, I ain’t never seen a store like that before.”

Without hesitation, Dahlia grabbed his hand and led him inside. The boutique was cozy, lined with soft pastel-colored baby clothes, specialized strollers, and cribs made for three. A woman behind the counter, presumably Maki herself, smiled warmly at them.

“Welcome! Expecting triplets?” she asked cheerfully.

Dahlia beamed, resting her hand on her belly. “Yep, about seventeen weeks along.”

Maki’s eyes lit up. “Congratulations! You’re in the right place, then. We have everything you could possibly need for multiples—matching onesies, triple bassinets, car seats, even diaper bags designed specifically for three little ones.”

Zilla raised an eyebrow. “A diaper bag for three?”

Maki laughed. “Oh yes, trust me, you’re going to need it.”

Dahlia wandered deeper into the store, eyes darting to the tiny baby clothes hanging on racks. Her heart melted at the sight of a set of matching onesies—one that said Mama’s Mini, another that said Daddy’s Twin, and the third that read Oops, There’s Another One!

She let out a laugh and held them up for Zilla to see. “Look at these, babe! Aren’t they cute?”

Zilla smirked, shaking his head. “Man, they already roasting us with that last one.”

Dahlia giggled, placing the onesies in her basket. She glanced toward the front of the store and noticed a triple stroller on display—sleek, modern, and surprisingly not as bulky as she expected.

“Whoa…” she breathed, walking up to it. “Isayah, look at this.”

He came up behind her, inspecting the stroller. “Damn, it’s nice. Looks expensive, though.”

Maki, who had been watching their interest, stepped forward. “That’s actually one of our best sellers. It’s lightweight, easy to fold, and fits through standard doorways—something most triple strollers struggle with.”

Dahlia nodded eagerly. “That’s exactly what we need.”

Zilla sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright, put it on the list.”

Dahlia gasped dramatically. “Seriously?”

Zilla chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. We’re gonna need one, right?”

Dahlia grinned, throwing her arms around him. “You’re the best.”

He smirked. “I know.”

As they continued browsing, adding a few more essentials to their growing list, Dahlia felt an overwhelming sense of happiness. For the first time in a while, she wasn’t worried about the stress of pregnancy, Zilla’s exhaustion, or the trip to the villa.

Right now, it was just them—preparing for the three little lives that would soon change their world forever.

Flashback – June 20th, 2025 – 10:31 PM

Zilla exhaled deeply, letting the hot water run over his sore muscles, washing away the sweat and exhaustion from his match. His first SmackDown main event. The moment still buzzed in his chest, the echoes of the crowd’s cheers still fresh in his ears.

This was his time. He could feel it. His character, his momentum, the way the fans had started to rally behind him—everything was clicking. He couldn’t wait to see where it would lead.

With a final rinse, he turned off the shower, reaching for a towel and wiping himself down before securing it around his waist. He felt good. Accomplished. Ready to get dressed and head home to Dahlia.

But the moment he stepped out, his stomach twisted.

There she was.

Cora.

“The succubus has arrived.”

She leaned against the lockers, arms crossed, her signature smirk playing at her lips. Her dark hair framed her face, and her eyes gleamed with something dangerous.

“Hi,” she greeted smoothly.

Zilla’s jaw clenched. He wasn’t in the mood for this. Not tonight. Not ever.

“The hell you doin’ here?” His voice was tight, laced with annoyance.

Cora pushed off the lockers and took a slow step toward him, tilting her head. “Relax, Z. I just wanted to say… I’m proud of you.”

He didn’t respond. Just stared.

She sighed dramatically. “I mean it. You killed it out there tonight. Seeing you in that main event spot? It suits you.”

Zilla exhaled sharply, running a hand over his damp braids. “Aight. You said what you had to say. You can go now.”

But Cora wasn’t done.

“You know…” She traced a finger along the metal of the lockers. “Watching you out there kinda reminded me of something.”

He knew where this was going.

“That night at the hotel.”

Zilla’s entire body tensed. Nah. She wasn’t about to go there.

“You remember, don’t you?” she continued, voice like silk. “The way you relaxed at my touch..”

Zilla shook his head, scoffing. “Man, you really don’t quit, do you?”

Cora smirked. “Why would I? We had something good, Z.”

“We had nothin’,” he corrected, firm and final.

Cora stepped closer, invading his space. “You sure about that?”

Zilla stayed stone-still, refusing to give her an inch. “Dahlia is at home, waitin’ for me,” he said, his voice low, warning. “I’m not doin’ this with you.”

Cora’s eyes flickered—just for a second—before she masked it with another smirk. “You act like I’m some kind of villain.”

“You are,” he said flatly.

She let out a soft chuckle, and before he could step away, she reached up and pressed her lips to his.

Zilla froze. For a second.

Then he shoved her off, hard.

Cora stumbled back, blinking in surprise, before her expression twisted into something unreadable.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Zilla snapped, his breathing heavy, anger coiling in his chest.

Cora let out a breathless laugh, shaking her head. “Damn, Z… you really changed, huh?”

“Yeah. I did,” he said, his voice firm, unwavering. “And I ain’t never goin’ back.”

For the first time, something flickered in Cora’s expression—something almost like hurt—before she quickly smothered it.

“Fine,” she said, lifting her hands in mock surrender. “Whatever you say…”

She turned on her heel and walked away, but before she disappeared down the hall, she threw one last look over her shoulder.

“You know where to find me if you ever get bored of playing house.”

Zilla clenched his fists, watching as she disappeared.

Bored?

He thought about Dahlia. Thought about his future, their future.

And for the first time, he felt nothing but disgust for the person he used to be.

Zilla quickly shook off the interaction as he pulled on his clothes, throwing on his usual comfortable attire. The feeling of the fresh fabric against his skin helped ground him, the act of getting dressed almost as if it could shake off the tension from the earlier encounter. His mind still raced, but he did his best to keep it together.

He was adjusting his shirt when he heard the door open. He snapped his head toward it, so fast that he almost gave himself whiplash.

Standing there, looking casual in his sweats and a yeet sweater, was his cousin Jey. Zilla raised an eyebrow.

Jey had his signature blue palm tree Money in the Bank briefcase— or YEETcase as he called it—slung over his shoulder like it was just another bag, and a couple of duffels were resting at his feet. He tossed Zilla a casual look and grinned.

“You good, uce?” Jey asked, his voice light and unbothered, like he hadn’t just walked into his cousin’s mind being torn apart moments ago.

Zilla nodded, a little too quickly. “Yeah, I’m straight.” He didn’t want to dive into it. He didn’t want to bring up Cora, his hesitation, or the mess in his head.

Jey took in Zilla’s appearance, narrowing his eyes for a second before leaning against the doorframe.

“You sure?”

Zilla threw on a smile, though it was more for show than anything. “Yeah. All good.”

“Alright, well,” Jey said, straightening up, “Wanna grab a drink with me? I could use one after the day I’ve had.”

Zilla looked at his cousin, a bit of relief flashing through him. It wasn’t the worst idea. He needed to get out of his head for a while.

“Yeah, alright,” Zilla replied, nodding. “Let’s go.”

He grabbed his keys, and the two of them walked out of the locker room, ready for the brief escape that only a drink and some time with family could bring.

—

Several hours later, after four Jack and cokes, Zilla and Jey were sitting comfortably in a corner booth at a bar, their laughter spilling out into the lively atmosphere. The heavy tension that had weighed on Zilla’s mind earlier had finally started to loosen, and the alcohol was helping him relax. His thoughts were still a bit jumbled, but the company of his cousin felt like a welcome distraction.

Zilla leaned back in his seat, chuckling as he wiped a hand across his face. “I’m serious,” he said, looking over at Jey with a raised eyebrow. “Are you ready to be a dad at 40?”

Jey, who was nursing his own drink, shot him a smirk. “Man, at least I’ve had two before this third one.” He took a long sip before setting the glass down, his tone a mix of playful and genuine. “You’re having the same amount of kids I’m having, all at once, at a very young age. Are you ready for that kind of responsibility?”

Zilla stared down at his drink for a moment, a small sigh escaping his lips. He wasn’t quite sure if it was the alcohol or the weight of the conversation, but it was hard to ignore the lump that formed in his throat. “I’m not gonna lie, uce…” Zilla paused, trying to find the right words. “But I’m kind of scared. Never thought I’d have a full-blown family at 25.”

Jey gave him a sympathetic nod, his expression softening. “I get it,” he said quietly. “It’s a lot to take in. But you’re gonna be a great dad, Zilla. It’s all about learning as you go. You might not have everything figured out now, but you’ll make it work. You’ve got a strong head on your shoulders and a family that’s here for you, you know that, right?”

Zilla smiled, the alcohol and the reassurance from his cousin helping him to breathe a little easier. “Yeah, I know. I just never thought life would throw this at me so soon. But I’ll figure it out. I have to.”

Jey raised his glass, giving Zilla an encouraging look. “You will. And when you do, those babies are gonna be lucky as hell to have you.”

The two clinked their glasses together in a quiet toast, both silently acknowledging the changes that were coming their way, but with a sense of comfort in knowing they had each other to lean on through it all.

Zilla leaned back in the booth, his eyes flicking around the bar for a moment, unsure of where to start. The alcohol buzz was fading now, and the weight of the conversation settled heavier on his chest. Jey was staring at him, patient but expectant, waiting for him to open up fully.

Jey leaned forward a bit, sensing Zilla’s hesitation. “So what’s on your mind, dude?” he asked, his voice quieter now. “I feel like you’re opening up, but you’re not really opening up. You know what I mean?”

Zilla exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know…” He stared into his drink, as if the swirling liquid would give him the answers he needed. “I feel like I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Jey raised an eyebrow, leaning in closer, his tone serious. “What do you mean? Talk to me.”

Zilla paused, swallowing hard before finally meeting Jey’s eyes. There was a long silence between them, the music from the bar playing softly in the background. Zilla didn’t know why he’d been holding back. Maybe it was the fear of looking weak, or maybe it was the weight of everything that was happening so fast.

He sighed deeply. “I guess… I guess I’m scared.” He swallowed again, trying to push past the tightness in his chest. “This whole family thing… it’s happening so quickly, and I don’t know if I’m ready for all of it. There’s this pressure—like, I want to be the man she needs, and I want to be a good father, but I don’t know how to balance it all. One minute I’m thinking I’ve got this, and the next, I’m second-guessing everything.”

Jey listened quietly, his eyes steady as he nodded in understanding. “That’s a lot, man,” he said, his voice calm. “It’s okay to be scared. You’re facing some big changes, and it’s normal to feel overwhelmed. But you don’t have to have it all figured out right now.”

Zilla looked down at the table, his fingers tapping lightly against the surface. “I don’t want to let her down. I want to be good for her, and for the kids.”

Jey’s hand landed on Zilla’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You won’t let her down.” Jey’s voice softened, filled with a quiet confidence. “You’ve got a good heart, uce. You’re gonna make mistakes, but that’s part of the process. The fact that you’re even thinking about this shows you’re already on the right path. Don’t forget—you’re not doing it alone. You’ve got me, you’ve got your family, and you’ve got Dahlia. She believes in you. You’ve just gotta trust yourself too.”

Zilla closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the truth in Jey’s words. It wasn’t going to be easy, but maybe he was overthinking it all. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. I just need to breathe and take it one step at a time.”

Jey nodded, giving him a small smile. “Exactly. And you’ll figure it out. I know you will. You’ve got this, uce.”

#zilla fatu fanfiction #zilla x oc #zilla fatu #zilla fatu smut #wwe #jey uso #fanfic #fanfiction #wwe raw #wwe smackdown #rhea ripley #rhea and jey #the judgement day #wwe theories #wwe the bloodline

25 notes · View notes

itscoucouharry · 3 days ago

Text

Rewritten Scars part 6- CEO Harry x Plus size reader smut

Warning: Smut

Ok so this is my very first time writing smut. Please be gentle 😂🙏 as always enjoy !!

Ever since you left Harry’s loft, his eyes were burned into your mind—deep, green, intense. They wouldn’t leave you. Every time you closed your eyes, all you could see were those eyes, combined with the gravelly rasp of his voice that made it even harder to resist the pull he had over you. You wondered if he thought about you the same way—about the same wild fantasies that had invaded your thoughts for days now.

It wasn’t every day that your childhood bully turned into a sexy, powerful CEO who seemed desperate for you to see the man he had become. There were moments when you almost believed he had changed. He wasn’t the same arrogant, taunting boy who made you feel small. But then your heart and mind would take you back to those vulnerable years—the ones where he left you broken and bruised.

You tried to ignore it, tried to push it down, but the memories were still there—the relentless teasing, the sharp words, the moments where you felt your world had shattered around you. Those years weren’t easily forgotten, no matter how hard you tried.

It all felt like a storm of conflicting emotions, the anger, the rage, and the confusion. How could you be so furious with someone who was so clearly enamored with you now? Someone who was doing everything in his power to make your life at Styles Enterprises easier, to show you that he cared? Harry was nothing like the person you once knew, yet your heart didn’t seem ready to trust the change.

You found yourself torn, unsure of how to act when he was around. How could you stand before the man who had hurt you, yet somehow, wanted you now? The tension between you was suffocating. And even after the gala, after all the little moments of kindness he had shown you, it only became worse.

He was so sweet, attentive—nothing like the boy you once knew. He took time to learn about your likes and dislikes, made your workday easier, and every word that slipped from his lips seemed to cut through the walls you had spent years building. It left you confused, frustrated, and undeniably drawn to him.

It wasn’t just emotional. It was physical, too. Every time he smiled at you, every time his hand brushed against yours in passing, something inside you stirred. It was like a constant tension building up, but instead of being angry, it was turning into something else—something that burned and ached.

You tried to resist, tried to remind yourself that he hadn’t earned your trust. But his charm, his efforts, his presence—it was all slowly wearing you down, leaving you more sexually frustrated than you ever thought possible. You couldn’t stop wondering how he would feel, how his lips would taste, how those strong hands would feel on your skin, and how different everything was now—how everything felt like it was on the edge of something you weren’t sure you were ready for.

But the truth was, you were already deep into it. Harry had a way of making you want him, even if it terrified you.

So, you did what you always did when you didn’t know how to deal with your feelings—you threw yourself into work. It was a habit you had perfected since school, diving headfirst into assignments, projects, anything to distract you from the weight of your emotions. You had to stay busy to keep from confronting that feeling of overwhelming sadness that always crept up on you when you least expected it. You didn’t know how to deal with the vulnerability, especially when it came to him.

You arrived at the office at 9:30 a.m., determined to stay focused. The plan was simple: submit documents, make the finishing touches on your project, and forget about the powerful CEO who seemed to have taken up too much space in your mind.

But somehow, hours slipped by. It wasn’t until you glanced at the clock that you realized it was almost noon. You had spent the last couple of hours lost in work, but your thoughts kept drifting, no matter how hard you tried to focus. It was like your brain wouldn’t let go of Harry, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it.

And then, as if fate couldn’t make this any harder, he walked in.

Harry entered with a quiet confidence, two cups of coffee in hand. You watched as he approached, and your breath hitched at the sight of him—perfectly put together, as always, but there was something different in the way he looked at you today. He didn’t say anything at first. He just handed you one of the cups with a small, knowing smile.

“Remembered your order,” he said casually, and you couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.

“How did you know I was here?” you mumbled, lifting the cup to your lips. The coffee was freshly brewed, scorching hot, and it felt like a bit of comfort.

“I know your vice,” he replied smoothly, his voice low and teasing. “I also know it’s working. Especially since the office is quiet today.”

You sighed inwardly, trying to ignore how his voice sent a flutter through you. And then, that damn smirk—that smirk—the one that drove you crazy, the one that made your knees weak.

It was as if he knew exactly what he was doing. The way he looked at you, the confidence radiating off him, all of it made something stir inside you. You could feel it—your body betraying you, responding to him in ways that left you frustrated and confused.

“God, you’re insufferable,” you muttered, trying to regain some composure. But Harry’s grin only widened, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

And if you were being honest with yourself, the thought that crossed your mind was dangerous. Because all you wanted to do in that moment was kiss him, maybe more. You couldn’t stop the thought, and the way he stood there, so close, only made the desire grow.

“Maybe,” Harry said, his voice a little softer now, leaning just a little closer. “But I think you secretly like it.”

You froze, caught in that moment of tension. Part of you wanted to deny it, wanted to pull away from him and hold onto your dignity, but the other part—the one that had been stirred by his smirk, his presence—was aching to give in.

Completely on impulse, you cupped the sides of Harry’s face, pulling him closer, your hands trembling as you stared into his eyes. You didn’t know what had come over you. All you could focus on was the desperate urge to taste the very lips that had given you hell throughout your childhood—those same lips that had been part of your past torment, now looking at you with such intense desire.

It was hard to stop yourself, especially when Harry was looking at you just as hungrily. His eyes were dark with want, his breath shallow, the veins in his neck and forehead taut, and it only made the heat in your chest grow stronger. You could feel the pull between you—magnetic, unavoidable—and you couldn’t fight it any longer. The tension snapped as you closed the space between you and kissed him.

But the kiss wasn’t anything like you expected. You had imagined it would be desperate, messy—full of pent-up frustration. But what you got was something far gentler. It was soft, almost tender, and for a moment, it felt like an apology. As if Harry was telling you everything he couldn’t say with words—I’m sorry for the past, for everything I’ve done to you. His kiss was his plea for your forgiveness, for you to see the man he had become, not the one who had hurt you.

His lips moved in perfect sync with yours, the rhythm of the kiss almost therapeutic, and before you realized it, his hands were at your waist, tracing circles on your belly. It felt like he was soothing something deep inside you, erasing the insecurities you’d held onto for so long. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as if he was worshiping you in the way you had always longed for.

It was the same body that once made you feel ashamed, the same belly that had been the subject of so many of your childhood fears. But now, in Harry’s hands, it felt like something he wanted—like it was a part of him, something he desired, rather than something he would criticize.

You ran your hands down his chest, wanting to feel more of him. The suit jacket felt like an obstacle you needed to remove. You pulled at it, trying to get closer, but then, in a sudden moment of clarity, you froze.

You pulled away, your chest rising and falling with the quickness of your breath. Harry’s eyes snapped open in surprise, but when he saw the vulnerability in your expression, the concern in his gaze was immediate.

“Is this okay?” His voice was soft, laced with tenderness. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.” His words were gentle, almost like a balm for your soul, and it hit you harder than you expected.

You shook your head, your eyes brimming with tears you hadn’t realized were threatening to spill. “I want to do this with you,” you whispered, your voice small and fragile, “I just don’t know how you’d feel about seeing my body.”

Harry’s heart broke at the admission. He could feel the weight of your insecurity, and it cut him deeper than any of the mistakes he’d made in the past. This hesitation—it was his doing. His fault that you doubted yourself, that you couldn’t see how beautiful you were, inside and out. How could he have ever made you feel this way?

He gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “I know I’ve convinced you otherwise with what I’ve done in the past,” he murmured, his voice thick with regret, “but if you want to let me see you… if you want to let me love every part of you, I’ll be honored, baby. Truly.”

There was no rush in his words, no pressure—just pure sincerity. He wasn’t asking for anything. He was giving you the space to decide, letting you know that no matter what, he was here for you, all of you.

You closed your eyes, taking in his words, and felt a warmth spread through you that you hadn’t expected. Maybe this wasn’t about your body, about what you had or didn’t have—it was about trust, about letting go of the shame and allowing someone to love you, truly love you, for everything you were.

And Harry? He was ready to prove to you that he saw you—every part of you—and that he wanted all of it.

You both went back into it as if it never stopped. The desire building up with every kiss and touch that’s shared. His hands move up to your shirt. Tugging at the bottom as if he’s asking to take it off. You raise your arms, still hesitating.

As he removes your cute pink blouse, he can’t help but keep his eyes on your chest. You can’t help but keep your arms crossed in front of your stomach.

You were afraid of him being completely turned off. Afraid of him looking at you with this disgusted glare.

But when you look at his face, he looks even more hungry than before. His hand goes for your arms slowly removing them from your stomach.

“Don’t do that baby.. don’t hide yourself from me. You’re so beautiful. There’s no shame here.”

You couldn’t help but look down as your top half is fully visible to him. The small strawberry bumps on your skin. The stretch marks on the sides of your hips. Your belly hanging a little over your casual jeans you opted for today.

“My god, you’re so beautiful.” He mutters as he spreads kisses all over your breasts and stomach. Kisses on your stretch marks. Kisses on your belly.

You start feeling a bit more confident as you reach forward, unbuttoning his white button down. Along with his help, you finally remove it slowly moving your hands down his shoulders.

“It’s okay to touch me baby” he says as he engulfs you into another hungry kiss with more tongue this time.

With his confirmation, you run your hands down his chest as his hands are working his way down to your jeans.

You can’t help but shudder when his hand meets the button. Your fear starting to creep in again.

“I’d love to see, if you let me”

You fall back into his embrace as he unbuttons your jeans and you lift up your hips so he can get them off. This piece of clothing is the last barrier you have. The last wall that was being broken down.

As he removes the pants off your legs, he leaves a trail of kisses as he moves down. You let out a small moan. To which Harry would do anything to hear again.

“So perfect, fuck baby”

Now you’re fully undressed except for the pink thong you have on. Harry licks his lips at the sight of your pussy through it.

“Already soaking for me pretty?” He taunts, his hand finally rubbing your clit through the pink fabric.

“Mhmm. Please…more” you barely make out clearly. His hand making you feel ways you don’t think you’ve ever felt before. He obliges your request as his hands move in your panties.

“Mmm. So pretty when you moan for me baby.” Harry is fully hard now. He’s been ready to show you just how much of a man he’s become. Since the night at the gala, all he can think about is pleasuring you.

Pleasing you. Making up for his past doings and mistakes. Making up for lost time. Making you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

Harry decides he’s had enough and takes off your panties. He looks up at you as his head starts to disappear between your thighs.

You’re a bit taken aback at first. Never thinking that he’s wanted you this much. Until he kisses your inner thighs right next to where you need him most.

You moan fully as his tongue comes in contact with your pussy. He moans along with you when he tastes you.

“Taste so fucking good baby. Gonna have me in between these sexy thighs all night.” You moan at his words. Such dirty words that feel so fucking good.

After years of not feeling pretty enough to have a man worship you like this. You can’t help but have this surge of confidence and excitement as he’s making you closer and closer with every flick of his tongue.

As he’s flicking your clit faster with his tongue, you gasp and grab his hair to which he lets out an animalistic groan. Letting you know that he wants you to keep tugging at his hair.

The office that seemed quiet before was now full of moans and sounds of pleasure.

“I’m so fucking close daddy please keep going” you moan out. In the most porn-star like way that makes Harry’s cock twitch. Along with the fact you called him daddy. He just couldn’t get enough.

He inserts a finger inside of you as he continues flicking and sucking on your clit. That familiar feeling in the pit of your belly starts to build up as you moan louder and louder. Signaling your orgasm.

Harry is more than happy to make you finish on his face. As your hips start to twitch and move his hands keep them down. This simple gesture making your orgasm all the better.

“Oh my fucking god.” You let out. Harry chuckles as he kisses you again, letting you taste yourself on him. Which makes you ready for him to fuck you into oblivion.

“Get on top?” Harry asks with a small smile. You stop in your tracks as you’ve never been on top before with anyone.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you” you say low.

“You’re not going to hurt me. This is all I’ve wanted. I’ll do the work. Just get on top baby.”

As you carefully hoist yourself on top of him. His arms find their way to your ass as he aligns his cock along with your pussy.

You both let out a loud moan as he slips in. The feeling of fullness entering you. The feeling of your warm, wet pussy around him—is something he wishes he would’ve felt a long time ago.

You both stay still in the moment. Fully enjoying this feeling. Harry’s hands find the sides of your face as he looks into your soul.

“Can’t believe I missed out on this. You’re doing so good for me baby.” He grunts out, teeth clenched.

“You can move now daddy” signaling you were ready for him to fuck you.

Harry starts off slow, kissing you with every stroke. Hands finding his way to your breasts and playing with your nipples. Earning a pretty moan out of you.

Harry wants to hear you moan forever. He’s sure of it.

Then his arms wrap around you as he bucks up his hips and starts going faster. Both of you are panting and moaning with every pump into you.

You’re sure no man has ever made you feel this good. No man had ever taken the time to get to know your body and know the ways to make you cum.

He goes even faster and harder with every moan and scream you let out. The sound of grunts and skin slapping in the luxurious office.

You’re getting close and can feel he is too.

“So fucking pretty riding me like this baby. Look at these tits bouncing in my face. That ass bouncing on my cock.” His words leave you a bigger mess than before. Fully panting as you work your way up and down. Feeling way more confident than when you first started.

“Never let any man tell you how to feel about your body. That goes for me or any man.” For some reason, this brings you closer and closer to finishing right on his cock.

As his grunts become more and more frequent, so does your clenching. The both of you wrapped up in each other as you’re coming closer to the edge.

All it takes is for him to find your clit between your sweaty bodies and you’re coming undone. Releasing everything you got, as he does the same. Hips now bucking up as he came deep inside of you.

After riding out your orgasms, you’re not so quick to move off of each other. Him inside of your warmth. Still leaving trails of kisses on your face and lips. You can’t help but feel a rush of emotion.

Your tears fully coming down now. He cups your cheek as he rubs the back of your head with his thumb.

“You are everything. No matter what it takes. No matter how long it takes. I’m gonna show you that you’re everything to me. Don’t ever hide your body from me. Don’t hide your feelings from me. I want every part of you. Even the ones you don’t think are pretty.”

And just like that. The weight of his past doings start to diminish. You don’t say much but kiss him in return. Getting lost in his love and adoration for you. Feeling freed from your insecurities. Feeling free from the shame you felt all of those years.

#harry styles smut #harry styles oneshot #harry styles writing #harry styles series #harry styles x plus size reader #plus size reader #ceo! harry styles #harry styles #smut #oneshot #series #one direction #harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #x plus size reader #x chubby reader

37 notes · View notes