#you internalize over the years that everything you do is just slightly wrong | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tomriddleslove · 6 months

Text

Pt 2 - The one that you want.

✩Theodore Nott x Reader

Pt 2 to Hey, trouble (DELETED)

Summary: The one where just as things are beginning to look up, everything comes crashing down. Alternatively: Tension, Fluff, Angst.

A/N: This fic was written very sleep deprived so I ask you to bear with me. The second part is my favourite so just stick with it.

Songs: The Way - Mac Miller, Ariana Grande

Lover, you should have come over - Jeff Buckley

Promise - Laufey

NOTE: I accidentally deleted my account and did not have the first part of this mini series saved! I will probably rewrite it but there is some context you should know, so i’ll try summarise it as concisely as possible:

You and Theodore used to be really good friends when you first joined Hogwarts. Naturally, as you both got older, you changed slightly. Theodore came back one summer and he seemed completely different, he was not only incredibly handsome but he had generally flourished as a person. The girls all loved him and he found a new set of friends, essentially forgetting about you. Time skip a few years and you become friends with Pansy, and the rest of the group. Theodore greets you as though nothing has changed. You habour a lot of resentment to him initially, but realise you really do love chilling with the group and so you set it to the side. In the fic, you’re at a party and you head up to the roof. Theodore appears and you chat for the first time in ages. It gets a bit tense when you subtly call him out but you try brush it off as a joke. He noticed you at their quidditch practice earlier on in the day with mattheos number painted on your face, and he sounds a bit jealous. You assure him it was only for jokes, though you’re confused as to why he’d be upset. Theodore (internally ) alludes to loving you and you’re both emotionally stunted idiots in love.

AND that brings us back to now. Enjoy xx

Friday had finally come, and you couldn't think of a word that could place just how relieved you were feeling. Don't get it wrong, you hugely valued your education, and took pride in working hard, but at the end of the day, there's only so much history of magic one could tolerate before their brain tuned out. The surprise quiz you took in class today told you that you had reached that point many months ago. But it was ok, that was an issue for the future.

You click open the door to your dorm room, tossing your bag haphazardly to the side as you undo your tie, pulling it loose with a groan of relief. Pansy is sprawled out comfortably on your bed because apparently, yours was comfier (they were the exact same thing, she just couldn't be bothered to make hers in the morning.)

You flick a strand of hair that fell in front of your face with a dramatic sigh as you flop down onto the bed, lying perpendicular to Pansy as you rest your head on her lap. She has a half smile of amusement as her hand comes down to pat your head, eyes trained on her book. You raise a brow and shuffle up slightly to catch a glimpse of what she was reading.

You see the word ‘shaft’ once and that's all you need to see as you gasp with fake indignation.

“Pansy… Whilst I'm sitting here?” You groan and she grins, her face slightly red as she shrugs, shameless.

I mean, come on. You weren't a stranger to smut, but right in front of you? You grab the book from her hand and toss it across the room.

“None of that whilst I'm here. Your amazing and beautiful friend is vying for attention so focus on me.’ You say and she playfully rolls her eyes as she lies back on her bed.

“It's disgustingly hot. I can't be bothered for this year anymore. The days are as hot as hell depths and the evening has me freezing my nonexistent balls off.” Pansy moans, and you hum in agreement.

You’re grateful for your friend and her seemingly never-ending talent of speaking because you currently couldn't even muster the energy to speak.

“Do we have to go watch the boys today? Lila told me Madam Pince has charmed the library with a cooling spell. We could go there instead.” Pansy says, sitting up, and the idea is incredibly tempting. You live for nothing more than to get out of this dastardly heat, especially in the comfort of the library (Pansy and yourself had mastered the art of smuggling snacks in. The key was in making sure you triple-checked what you bought in, which you learnt after Pansy had accidentally sat on a Fizzlebees Exploding Sherbet last winter. The poor 1st year who had sat next to you was sure that there was some kind of attack and leapt under the nearest table.)

The mention of practice has your mind thinking back to your most recent encounter with Theodore. Just thinking about it again elicited that strange feeling in your stomach. You were, perhaps, close to a path of redemption (though it was more Theodore redeeming himself.)

With a sigh, you shake your head.

“We promised them we'd come. Besides, imagine the absolute havoc Mattheo will cause when he finds out we ditched for the library of all places. He would get us banned for a month, at the very least.” You say, and Pansy grumbles but ultimately knows you’re right. She sighs, muttering.

“Yes yes, I suppose you're right.” She begrudgingly admits and you grin, sitting up. You walk over to your closet, looking for something else to wear as you felt as though you were positively melting in your uniform. You flick through your closet, cursing the endless void that conveniently was full of sweaters and thick jumpers now summer has come. You dig around and find a pair of black denim shorts towards the back. You don't even know when you got them, but they fit and they'll do the job. You're thankful for the fact that you love the feeling of freshly shaven legs on your bedsheets, because heaven knows you would not bother to shave your legs for a man. You manage to find a green shirt, and you slip it on. It's nothing special really, but you weren't dressing up for anyone. You were long past those days now, you found that it was lovely not giving two shits. Pansy called it alarming, but you liked to think of it as… eclectic.

Pansy brings over her signature red lipstick (which you're sure only she can pull off) and holds your cheek in place to draw a number 10 on it, as standard practice. You reach up to grab her hand.

“Wait. Do 7 instead.” You say. She widens her eyes slightly and wiggles her brows as she looks at you.

“Oh? And why is that?” She probes and you playfully swat her, rolling your eyes.

“Theodore just asked me to. Besides we shouldn't inflate Mattheo's ego too much.” You respond a bit too quickly, and she has a shit-eating grin on her face. Pansy knows you well though, and she knows probing any further will only give her a stinging hex and nothing more, so she simply looks at you with a pointed look as she draws the 7 on instead. You watch as she traces the number 7 on her face too, adjusting her hair as she pouts and blows a kiss at herself in the mirror. You pointedly roll your eyes to tease her and she throws a pillow at you.

“Alright alright, you humble lady. Let's go.” You muse, holding your arm out. The two of you link arms as you descend down to the quidditch pitch. The sun is shining blazing down on you, and you feel uncomfortably hot and sticky within a few seconds of being outside. You truly weren't built for warm weather.

The grass on the pitch is a beautiful rich green and the sky is so picturesquely blue that it seems more like a postcard as opposed to real life. You imagine that this must be their favourite season; you had entertained the idea of watching one match in the winter season and immediately stopped after a gust of wind sent a bird flying into the girl sitting above you (You were sure it had given her that scratch on her cheek.) You couldn't cope with watching a match in such harsh weather, and you couldn't even begin to imagine how it must be to play in such conditions.

Idiots, really. They brought it on themselves. They definitely came to that realisation when they would be dragged out of bed at 5:00 am to go play in the freezing cold whilst you remained blissfully asleep under your warm covers.

You clamber up the stairs of the stands and curse under your breath. For all the beauty and wonders the wizarding world had, was it really that damn hard to have a few escalators here and there? You wanted to watch a practice game, not train to have the thighs of Hercules. You finally reach the top and shimmy down the benches with Pansy, leaning against the railing, The team was already up in the air, circling around whilst tossing the ball to one another. For all the grace and elegance Draco exuded on the ground, you couldn’t help but snicker when you catch the sight of him looking like he had slathered himself in red paint, all sweaty and grimacing; strands of his blonde hair clinging to his face.

“You alright up there Draco? Mummy forget to send you some sun cream?” You call out teasingly, and he sneers at you as Mattheo cackles, swooping down on his broom to greet you and Pansy.

“There they are!” Blaise says, a small grin on his face as he flies down to your level, joining Mattheo. You don’t even have the time to greet him because a loud gasp escapes Mattheo's lips, his hand coming out to grip your chin, tilting your face to the side.

“Traitors!” Mattheo says, eyes flickering between Pansy and yourself. You can't keep the grin off your face as you pry your face out of Mattheo's hands.

“Oh come on Mattheo. We love you all equally and need to express that love as such.” Pansy drawls, a taunting grin on her face.

“Fuck off, I'm the only important one,” Mattheo responds, puffing out his chest as he points to himself.

Blaise has to hold back from rolling his eyes, looking over at you exasperatedly. You exchange a glance with him and you feel your lips curl up into a small smile as you stifle a laugh.

“This was your doing! What did you do to them? Now I'm going to play like shit!” Mattheo whines, as he turns to look up at Theodore.

Theodore.

Your eyes flicker up and sure enough there he is. And god, how dare he look so good in this disgusting heat. His eyes are (and you have the feeling they were like that for quite a bit) trained on you, an unreadable expression on his face. He keeps his gaze on you, and you're sure at that moment he was trying to seduce your soul or play some stupid kind of mind tricks on you to have you thinking of him all day (it was working.)

His lips curl up into that godforsaken smile that borders on a smug little smirk. It has you embarrassingly weak in the knees and suddenly you're very glad it's hot, for you could blame your red cheeks on the heat. He flies down, tearing his gaze away from you as he comes close to Mattheo.

“Come on Mattheo, I’ve got an audience so I need to make sure I beat you embarrassingly quickly today,” Theodore says, egging his friend on.

“Yeah fucking right,” Mattheo says, turning to Theodore as the two engage in the most awful, embarrassing trash talk. You and Pansy exchange a glance and the two of you side-eye them with disdain.

The simple mind of boys managed to amaze you every time. Their attention span was impressively short.

Proving your point, Mattheo flies up to poke fun at Draco and Lorenzo, who both didn't seem to be holding up too well with the heat. You lean your elbows on the railing and stiffen slightly when Theodore flies up next to you. He hovers on his broom mid-air, resting his elbow on the railing in front of you. His face is incredibly close to yours, analysing your face with those sinful eyes of him which should be illegal because

Fuck, you were deprived.

“You wore it.” He says, and he sounds oddly breathless. You were assured by Blaise mere minutes ago that they had barely started practising.

Why did it seem so hard to speak? Why did Theodore seem so surprised? Why did you feel so bashful?

“You asked.” You respond, and his eyes search yours for a second before a smile tugs at his lips. His hand reaches out to cup your face, tilting it to the side as he looks at the 7 on your cheek.

Was this all it took for Theodore to touch you?

You’d have to start drawing 7 everywhere.

His fingers brush against your jaw, and you let out a shaky breath as his thumb runs along your cheek.

His touch leaves a fiery trail in its wake, and you are sure he has to be doing some sort of nonverbal magic because you feel as though you are going crazy. You resist the urge to let your eyes flutter shut because Theodore Nott simply has that effect.

He turns your head back and you stare at one another for a second more before he pulls back, and your mouth feels awfully dry.

“Mattheo smudged it.” He says, and his voice sounds slightly strained as he says so. You can't keep the corners of your lips from lifting slightly as you nod.

“Right.” You breathe out, looking at him. He grins, and this time you have to be sure you have not secured yourself a one-way ticket to the Janus Thickey Ward of St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, because you swear his eyes flicker down to your lips for a brief second before he leans back like he's been forced to do so, wordlessly looking at you once more before he grips the broom with one hand, effortlessly flying up to start practice.

You don’t even have the time to process whatever that was because your ever-eloquent and insightful friend speaks the very thoughts running through your head.

“What in the ever-loving fuck was that?” Pansy utters, eyes wide as she stares at the spot where Theodore was standing.

Amen to that, Pansy. What in the ever-loving fuck was that?

Your hand hovers over your cheek, ghosting over the place Theodore had just touched.

You part your lips to say something, but can't even formulate the words, and Pansy recognises that.

“Holy Shit! He- That-” She says, hands grabbing your shoulders as she shakes you. You're ashamed to say you needed it because you were sure you were dreaming.

“What's going on between you two? First, you’re wearing his number to the match. Then he's practically eye fucking you and you're both literally about to make out.” Pansy babbles and you roll your eyes at her dramatics.

“Oh calm down, Pansy. He barely looked at me, and he was just fixing it because Mattheo had smudged it. There's nothing going on.” She says and Pansy narrows her eyes.

“Oh yes, and I’m fucking straight. We both know that's a lie.” She deadpans, and you shake your head with an exasperated smile.

You couldn't tell whether you wanted to crack up with laughter or strangle the shit out of her. With Pansy, the line blurred more often than not. It’s why you loved her so dearly.

“Genuinely Pansy, nothing’s going on between Theodore and me. We used to be really good friends. That's all.” You say, with a tone of finality. She sighs, mumbling under her breath.

“….Painfully obvious”

“Both know that's a lie…..”

“Hopeless idiot…”

You shoot her a glare at her mumbling and she returns the sentiment with a pointed smile, enough to make you roll your eyes with amusement. You rest your head on her shoulder as the two of you watch the match.

The day Theodore had walked past you like you simply didn't exist was the day you swore to yourself you'd never, EVER, let yourself be good friends with him again. You stuck to your word always, yet this was proving to be one time where you didn't.

You prayed you wouldn't regret this, but alas, the universe is cruel at times.

The news of Draco’s father cancelling their annual summer holiday trip came surprisingly as great news to your groups as you all lounged in the library (which was as packed as it had ever been thanks to Madam Pince’s cooling charm. You all begged her to teach you the spell but she refused, and you were sure she kept it hidden to make sure people came to the library. Luckily for the group, you were one of the most conscientious students in your year, so you'd all get away with things due to the teachers favouring you greatly. A few other groups were kicked out immediately.)You all sat in a cosy arrangement in the far back end of the library. Pansy sat on the floor beside you, whilst you lounged in an armchair, feet thrown over one arm. Blaise sat on the other arm of the chair, with Draco and Theodore sitting opposite you. Between the armchair and sofa facing one another was a third sofa and a small round table. Mattheo and Lorenzo sat on that third sofa. Lorenzo stretches, sprawled out as he props his feet up on the table. You reach out and slap him with the book you were reading, and he cowers sheepishly as he puts his feet down.

“I was looking forward to summer in Versailles,” Draco complains, and you sigh. Would be nice to be able to go on such trips.

“Actually…” Pansy says, sitting up as though she’s just had an idea. Knowing your friend, you can't help but feel terrified about what's about to come out of her mouth.

“My parents have a beautiful holiday home down in France and they're going to Australia this year, so it's not being used. Why don't we all spend a week there?” Pansy says.

It's actually a very clever Idea, and a chorus of murmurs of agreement and nods echo throughout the group.

“That actually sounds good” Lorenzo says, and Blaise hums in agreement.

“I have family who live in France so they could sort out travel for us when we are there. I'm sure I can go.” Baise says and Pansy claps her hands excitedly, rubbing them together like some kind of evil genius (sometimes you were sure she was.)

“Draco, Theo?” Pansy says, and the mention of Theo's name has your eyes flickering up from your book. He's looking at you but the second your eyes meet he quickly looks at Pansy and nods, clearing his throat.

“Huh? Oh, uh- yeah.Sounds good.” He says. You lightly smile to yourself as you look down at your book.

“ I suppose I’ll tolerate it.” Draco sighs, and a chorus of groans escapes the group at his melodramatic behaviour.

“Oh piss off Draco, just admit you like us,” Mattheo says and Draco scoffs.

The boys very quickly once again get into a semi-play fight, and a stern hush from Madam Pince as she glares at the group of you sends them both sheepishly quiet. She walks away and it’s your turn to glare at the two boys.

“She may like me now, but if you two don't shut up she sure as fuck won't, and ill set your robes on fire if you force me to get through the summer whilst being banned from the library.” You spit, scolding them.

Mattheo and Draco both look down like children being chastised and Blaise has to hide his amusement as he nudges your shoulder, getting up.

“Right well, that's our cue to leave anyway. Have the real match tomorrow so we need an early night.” Blaise says. One by one everyone gets up, Pansy pushing off the floor with a sigh as she dusts down her skirt.

She turns to you, raising a brow.

“You coming?” She asks, holding a hand out and you look up, shaking your head.

“Nah. Gonna stay here for a while. Finish reading this.” You say, holding up your book with a weak smile. Pansy shakes her head with a smile, ruffling your hair (much to your dismay).

“My little neek. Have fun!” She says, and you flip her off at the comment. She grins, blowing a fake kiss back at you as she manoeuvres past the wooden bookshelves and out of the library.

You sigh and feel as though you're sinking further into the plush armchair, a pillow held to your chest as you read your book. Everything about the library was so pleasantly calming. The dim lights that cast dancing shadows of the book spines across the wall. The bibliosmia that you inhaled deeply as you lay for what felt like hours, reading whatever you could get your hands on. You’re so caught up in the allure of the library (Pansy might have a point, you definitely were a neek), that you don't even notice the presence of someone coming to sit down on the sofa next to you until the sound of the leather cushions sagging under weight draws your attention up from the pages of the book.

Seriously? Were you actually that oblivious? It was extremely alarming if you were.

You look up and see Theodore moving to take a seat on the sofa next to you. He stretches out his legs, his large frame suddenly making the space seem a lot smaller.

“Hey.” He says, and your lips quirk up in a smile as you speak.

“Hey,” You respond, folding the corner of your book.

“What are you reading?” Theodore asks, and you raise a brow.

Did he really have an interest in the book you were reading? A few years ago the Theodore you knew would never touch a book (though he would listen to you ramble on about them for an hour.)

But Theodore has changed, And so have you. He’s no longer the Theodore you knew, and the reminder turns the feeling in your stomach unpleasant.

You hold up your book, weakly smiling as you show him the cover. It was rather beaten and bruised, but you had owned this copy since your first year. You’ve reread it more times than you can count.

“Little women,” Theodore says, a small smile of recognition on his face. He remembered you, always walking around with that book. Theodore couldn’t comprehend what half the words in the book meant, but he remembered hearing you talk about it and thinking you were truly the most incredible person he had ever met.

That hadn't really changed.

“Mhmm. Must be my 5th time rereading it this year.” You say, with a small smile, and Theodore lets out a low laugh.

He's looking down at the table, and you admire the way the dim light dances along his features, making them look surprisingly soft.

“Love Jo all your days, if you choose, but don't let it spoil you, for it's wicked to throw away so many good gifts…” Theodore starts, gaze trained ahead.

“......because you can't have the one you want” You finish, quietly.

Theodore's gaze drops to his hands, fiddling with the threads on his bag. The air is thick with unspoken words. A quiet dance of regrets lingers in the spaces between your words.

"Little Women," Theodore repeats, his fingers tracing the zip on his bag. "I remember how you used to quote passages from that book like they were sacred verses. It was almost like a religion for you."

You can sense the undertone in his words—the acknowledgement of a shared past that now exists as a distant echo.

The silence that follows hangs heavy.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, the worn pages of the book suddenly feeling like a fragile shield against the currents of emotion. Theodore's eyes, once familiar and comforting, now carry a hint of regret and a touch of something unsaid.

"Jo March was always your favourite," he continues, his voice soft, almost hesitant.

“Still is,” you say, and he nods, looking up at you. His smile is tight-lipped, and you fight the urge to reach forward and massage the furrow of his brow. He reaches into the side pocket of his bag, pulling out a book.

Little women.

You frown as you take the copy from him, flicking through it. There are scribbles and annotations all over the pages.

You hate the way you instantly recognise his handwriting - another testament as to how Theodore was weaved into everything you did.

Theodore takes the book back, his fingers lingering on the worn cover. He opens the book, thumbing through the pages, his eyes fixing on the annotations.

"I've been reading it," he admits, his voice a low murmur. "Annotating it. I wanted to see it through your eyes, to understand why it meant so much to you."

You watch him, and your heart clenches at his voice. At his eyes, At the way he speaks, and the way he keeps his head down. The realisation that he held onto this piece of you, even as you both drifted apart, is enough to send you into a spiral.

"I see you in these pages," Theodore continues, his gaze locking onto the annotated paragraphs. "I see you in between the lines, and in the words. I see you in Jo, I see you in the witty comments. Every time I read this, It's like a piece of you is still here with me."

A lump forms in your throat, and you swallow hard, trying to push back the tears that threaten to spill over.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry

“Every time I read these words, I feel like I'm back with you, even if just for a moment." He admits, looking up at you.

The devastation in his eyes is surely mirrored in your own.

You want to cry. You want to shout, because how dare he sit here, and speak of you with such reverence, and act like he cares for you when he had forgotten about you so easily? How dare he say he sees you in everything he does when he looked right past you when you stood in front of him?

How dare he act like he missed you when he didn’t?

You can't say anything. You physically can't, because every time you open your mouth it hurts. Grief clings to the pipes, scratching at your throat. It restricts your breathing, it gnaws at you.

Theodore looks at you and clears his throat, quickly looking down. You fail to make out the fact that his own eyes are threatening to spill with tears, as your own teary eyes cloud your vision.

It was always like that with you and Theodore.

Amid your shared tears, the unspoken suddenly becomes the unsayable.

He gets up, and he can't bear to look at your face because every glance of those tears in your eyes eats away at his heart. He grabs his bag and throws it over his shoulder, rushing out for fear of what you might say.

“See you” He murmurs, walking away. You can’t tear your gaze away from where he walks away even as his form disappears, and you swear the boy had taken part of your heart with him.

The quote “Fate was a cruel mistress” Never made much sense to you. Fate was beautiful even in its destructive nature. Fate was unstoppable, she didn't wait for anyone or veer away. You used to admire that about her. You found it to be a beautiful thing. Of course, it's because you also believe that fate would only wait for you. Wait that one extra second. Then, perhaps, Theodore and you would be on the same path. Instead, you were two, walking the same path only a heartbeat apart. As if time itself conspires to teach that love can occur in the same book, but pages apart.

You cannot love the beauty of her tenacity and cower from it too.

#harry potter #slytherin #tom riddle #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott fic #lorenzo berkshire #mattheo riddle #draco malfoy #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #slytherin boys fic #slytherin boys #theodore nott angst

442 notes · View notes

queenie-official · 8 months

Text

‘Grey sweatpants’ Modern!Anakin

main masterlist

pairing: Modern!Anakin x reader

a/n: saw this clip and knew i needed to write for modern Ani about it🤭 a bit of childhood friends to lovers for you 💋

growing up with Anakin gave you a lot of opportunities then most people got with there crushes. for instance where most had to wait till they where comfortable in order to be seen a certain way by their partners and vice versa, you had the privilege of maybe being overally comfortable with him.

i mean it didn’t mean anything, you were childhood friends after all- except it did mean everything. at least to you anyway.

you’re the one with the crush on him, Anakin was completely oblivious to this fact. you were sure if he had even an inkling that you liked him he would change how he acted with you, not big things but the small things that were more important to you. like the nicknames he used, and the way you’d cuddle when you were having a bad day- obviously to others that looked like something more but this was a completely normal thing for you and Ani.

So was dressing in whatever was most comfortable. For Anakin that just so happened to be shirtless with a pair of grey sweats…

god, you would think you’d be used to it by now. this wasn’t even close to the first time he’d worn this and it certainly wasn’t going to be the last. or maybe it would if you couldn’t control yourself, i mean you were practically drooling over him.

As per usual Anakin was completely unaware, focused on a personal project he refused to tell you about. you sat on his bed watching him contently, eyes tracing over the way his back muscles moved with each shift of his arm. counting the freckles and resisting the urge to walk behind him and kiss each one.

letting out a longing sigh at that thought which unfortunately drew Anakin’s attention to you, turning to face you with a raised brow. “what was that for?” he asks while looking over your face trying his best to read what was wrong, which usually came pretty easy to him.

“what was what for?” you ask feigning ignorance as you shift so that you’re now laying on your stomach, playing with the edge of his blanket as you speak.

your question makes him role his eyes, standing up so that he could walk over to you. big mistake on his end. your eyes immediately fell down to his waistline, trailing over his happy trail that led straight down into his sweats.

your imagination running wild as you looked him over, feeling your throat run dry before you forced yourself to look back up at him.

Meeting his eyes with a blush hoping he hadn’t noticed you checking him out. The greyish blue you normally saw was swallowed by his dilated pupils… oh he definitely saw you. your whole body flushed maybe this was a sign that him finding out you liked him wouldn’t be the end of the world.

he places his hands on the footboard leaning over it slightly. the muscles in his arm flexing as he grips it, looming over you from where you laid. feeling your heart beat race from his simple actions.

“what’s going on with you lately?” he asks but the question seems empty, like he already knows the answer but just wants to hear you say it.

you feel frozen in place, internally debating wether to just tell him or come up with a excuse.

have you been acting differently? you thought for sure you where doing a good job at hiding your feelings- then again Anakin always was good at reading you, years of friendship only aiding his abilities.

“Nothing, im fine…” you answer, moving so that you were sitting up. feeling like you were on more common ground with him no longer towering over you as much.

of course he didn’t believe that, he knew you. he licks his lips as he stares down into your eyes.

usually you’d at the very least still have a basic idea as to what he was thinking but the look he was giving you wasn’t one he’d ever used before. it gave you chills, made your thighs squeeze together subconsciously. oh… made your.. that’s what that look was.

“it’s seriously nothing Ani” you try again, not wanting to admit your thoughts. mostly out of embarrassment now than out of fear of rejection.

Anakin scoffs looking off to the side, his brows now furrowed slightly in thought. you could see when something clicked in his mind.

what, you weren’t sure but as he stood up straight and walked over to his bedroom door to close it you had a feeling you where about to find out.

he locked it before turning back towards you, arms crossed against his bare chest. abs on full display, his sweats hanging deliciously on his waists.

you where doing it again, staring. snapping out of it, you force yourself to look back up once more. you startle slightly seeing him staring at you with a devilish smirk on his face.

“fine, i guess i’ll just have to pull those thoughts out of you myself” his voices is a few octaves lower then his usual deep gravely tone, making your stomach twirl…

okay 🙈i hope you guys like this- you can just use your imagination for how the rest of this goes ✨ Anyway i have so many drafts atm that i need to finish so can’t wait to share that with you guys. Love you all Xx<3

617 notes · View notes

mariposa-writes · 1 year

Text

Stressed - Travis Kelce

Travis Kelce x reader

Summary: Travis just wants to help you.

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: Trying to put more Travis fics out there, since there are barely any. This is my first time ever posting on here, please let me know what you think. Thanks and have a great day!

You sat at Travis's dining room table, looking over your stack of bills. It felt like they were never-ending, and it seemed like no mattered how much you worked there was never enough money.

You were constantly stressed, over everything. You couldn't even remember the last time you'd felt even slightly relaxed. The bills you received yesterday, were much higher than expected. Then you had to find time to work at your job while interning at KPMG, one of the top accounting firms. Not to mention you had 3 essays due soon along with multiple assignments. Plus Travis had some event he wanted you to attend, where you would officially be showing up as a couple.

You guys had decided to keep your relationship on the DL for the past year and managed to keep your relationship hidden from the public.

Travis placed a hand on your shoulder, making you jump. You hadn't even noticed that he'd gotten home. "Hey, it's just me." He chuckled, finding your reaction funny. You got up out of your chair, placing a quick kiss on his cheek. "Sorry," you mumbled before cleaning up the mess you'd created on his dining room table.

You quickly hid the bills under some of your notes, not wanting Travis to know you were struggling. You knew Travis all too well, knowing he would want to do anything he could to help you, whether that meant paying off your student debt or paying all of your bills. Hell, he'd probably even higher someone to write your essay's for you if you asked.

You were his world, and he was willing to do anything to make your life easier.

You quickly shoved the papers into your backpack, "I'll get started on dinner. I didn't realize what time it was." You said, getting ready to head into the kitchen.

"Hey," Travis grabbed your wrist, leading you back to him. "What's wrong?"

You blinked a few times, "Nothing, everything's fine. Just tired." You plastered a smile on your face, trying to be convincing. His eyes narrowed, clearly not believing you.

He sighed, deciding to let it go. "Why don't I cook tonight." He suggested, "You can go take a relaxing bath or something."

"Are you sure?" You asked knowing Travis didn't normally cook, "I can help if you want?"

"Babe, don't worry, I actually can cook, believe it or not." He laughed slightly.

"Not," you mumbled. You'd guys been together for a little over a year, and he hardly ever cooked. If you didn't feel like cooking, then you'd guys either order in, or he'd have his private chef come cook up a meal.

He slapped your butt as you turned to walk away, "I heard that." You laughed before rushing up the stairs to take a shower.

You loved Travis's shower, especially when he was with you. Sadly he was cooking dinner, so you had to enjoy the waterfall shower alone. At least you got to make the water scolding hot when you were alone, Travis always accused you of trying to burn your skin off with how hot you liked the water.

After your shower you changed into one of his shirts, that went to mid thigh on you and threw on some shorts you had in the dresser Travis had gotten for you 6 months ago.

You ventured down stairs with a smile on your face, feeling slightly relaxed after your shower. You could also smell the food from down stairs and it surprisingly smelled delicious.

Your smile quickly left your face when you turned the corner and saw Travis standing over your bag, with papers in hand. "What are you looking at?" You asked, despite already knowing what he was looking at.

Travis dropped the papers on the table, "Why didn't tell me you were struggling to pay your bills? Is this why you've been so distant lately?" His words were unexpected, you didn't think you'd been distant lately. You always tried to be in the present when you were with him.

You snatched the papers up and shoved them back into your bag. "You had no right to look through my stuff." You seethed. You couldn't believe he actually went in your bag and looked through your personal belongs.

"Well, I feel like I have to cause you'll barely talk to me anymore." Travis threw his hands up, frustrated at the situation.

You walked to the kitchen and grabbed your keys from the counter. You hated fighting and all you could think about was getting out of there before it got worse. "I have homework, I need to go home and finish it." You stated, walking out of his front door and to your car.

"Y/n" He called, following you. You ignored him, opening you car door and getting in. He caught the door before you could slam it shut. "Babe, don't leave please. We can talk about this."

"Trav," you pleaded. "I don't wanna fight right now. I just wanna go home."

"Bab-" you interrupted him by closing the door, starting your car and backing out of the driveway. He stood there watching you the whole time.

_____

The next day you had gotten up and went to your classes. Travis had been texting you all day, but you weren't responding.

You didn't know what to say, you felt like Travis had invaded your private information. Travis was an open book, he would tell you anything you asked. But you were more closed off.

You didn't trust people as easily as him. Maybe, because of the way you grew up. You learned to be independent form a young age and your mom always taught you to never trust anyone.

This caused some issues between you and Travis, even if you didn't realize. Like the time he bought you a car because, he didn't want you driving your old beater that had trouble starting up during the winter.

He worried that it would break down and you'd get stranded somewhere. Well, you're still driving that car and Travis has a spare car parked in his garage since he refused to return it.

You walked up to your apartment, feeling even more tired than normal. You hadn't been home all day, after your classes ended at 2 you went to the place you're interning at and worked until 6, then you went to your other job and worked till close.

It was now 11:15 and when you opened your door, you didn't expect to see Travis sitting on your bed. His head snapped up when the door opened and you walked through. "Trav, what-"

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have looked through your stuff. I don't wanna fight, I love you so much baby and it kills me when you're mad at me." He was now standing in front of you cupping your face with his hands. "I just want to make your life easier. You could've told me you were struggling. I would've helped you pay your bills."

You sighed, leaning into his hand. Travis loved physical contact, while you were the opposite. You hated hugging your friends, or anyone for that matter. But when it came to Travis you craved his touch. "That's why I didn't tell you. I knew you would want to pay for everything and fix it. I can handle it myself, I've been doing it for the past 22 years. "

"Just cause you have been doing it doesn't mean you still have too. I'm here now, you're not alone anymore." Tears started to well up in your eyes.

"But what happens when I become dependent on you, and you leave me" He tried to cut you off, to tell you that'd never happen but you kept going. "Trav, you have literal super models in your dm's. What if you wake up one day and realize you don't wanna be with me and you want to be with one of them." You were crying now, you'd never voiced these fears to Travis. He wiped every tear that fell away with his thumb. "Then I'm alone and I don't know how to function on my own anymore, because I'm so dependent on you."

"Babe, I'm never gonna leave you." He knew where these thoughts were coming from. "I'm not your father, I would never leave you because I thought I found something better."

"How do you know?"

"Because I already know that you're the best there is." He took your hand in his. "Babe, we fit together so well. You fit with my family so well. Jason and his family love you, my parents love you, and most importantly I love you. So I'm begging you to stop shutting me out. Turn to me when you need help."

"I love you too Kelce." He leaned down, his lips meeting yours. His tongue slipped between your lips, making you moan. You were certain that he was the best kisser in the world. This continued for a few minutes, you growing wetter by the minute.

"Move in with me." He said, his forehead resting against yours. Your eyes widening, "and before you say no, just know that I've been thinking about this for a while. This isn't a split second decision."

Your mind told you no, but for once you decided to listen to your heart. "Yes." He smiled, before his lips meet yours again. He lead you over to your bed and you two had the best night of your life.

#travis kelce #travis kelce x reader #fluff #nfl imagine #travis kelce fic #travis kelce imagine #kc chiefs #chiefs #nfl #super bowl #kansas city chiefs #fanfic #nfl fanfic

1K notes · View notes

yourwosogirly · 11 months

Text

Broken Hearts, Healing souls - Mapi Leon

Based off this request

Word count: 2k

The door unlocked, followed by keys placed in a bowl and shoes being taken off but it didn’t make me turn my head .

“how was the party?”i asked bitterly, finally speaking up and turning towards my girlfriend. For now.

“It was good”she swallowed uncomfortably, feeling the tension in the room, but not knowing what it was from.

she could clearly tell I was upset though as normally when she would arrive home I would jump straight in her arms, showering her with kisses.

but it didn’t look like that was going to be happening anytime soon.before anything could be said I shoved my phone in her face .

“what’s this?”i ask sternly as she sucked in a breath.it was a picture alexia had taken at the party mapi had been at and while it looked pretty normal you could clearly see in the back mapi snogging a girl with red hair .

I was a brunette.

now I was very aware of mapi’s dating history which had scared me sometimes with insecurity knowing she would jump from one girl to the next after getting bored, but I was reassured I was different.but clearly I was only different because she thought she could jump to one girl to the next while we’re together .

“did you cheat on me?”i whisper looking up at her .

“y/n..”she mumbled and I stood up abruptly and my heels clicked against the floor as I walked closer to her .

“no, mapi it’s a simple question.did you cheat on me”I asked sternly taking a pause between each word .

“yes”she looked down at the ground full of guilt as I gasped taking a step back. I was expecting it, of course but hearing it was come out of her mouth was a different story.

I was baffled to say the least, I had no idea what to say, I couldn’t even look her eyes.this certainly wasn’t the woman, I thought she was and fell in love with .

“why?….why would you do this?to me?”i ask her, my voice cracking.her eyes flooded with tears, heart breaking from the pain in my voice.

“because…”

“because what, mapi”I cut her off sharply and she sucked in a breath.

“I don’t fucking love you, okay?!”She let out and I stopped for a moment, my body feeling frozen but in a numb way before I exploded .

“Get out!Get out!Get out!GET THE FUCK OUT!”

4 years later….

I let out a shaking breathe as I stood outside the training centre with the Barcelona crest shining on the side of it .My hands shook with nerves while I kept taking deep breaths whispering, “you can do this”,over and over .

Transferring to Barcelona wasn’t one of my plans but despite all the nerves moving clubs gave me a specific one stuck in the back of my mind making me shudder .

More like a specific someone.

“hi y/n, you okay?”i opened my eyes to seeing Jonatan Giráldez, my new coach standing in front of me .

“yes, I’m fine”lie. I put on a fake smile which he seemed to be convinced by as he nodded his head slowly at me .

“alright, cmon then, gotta get ready for your first training session”he chuckled, wrapping his arm around my shoulder.

“alright girls, this is y/n”Jonatan said, introducing me to the team before he sent me off to go join them .I was overwhelmed slightly as all the girl surrounded me, introducing their names all at once which I certainly wouldn’t remember.

“hi y/n”mapi said i internally rolled my eyes, I couldn’t believe she was doing this right now. I couldn’t be arsed to have to deal with her.I pretty much ignored her though, only giving her a smile as we started some drills and despite everything happening, god was on my side and I luckily wasn’t paired up with mapi.

“hey, you okay?”marta whispered to me with a curious smile as she was stood next to me.my eyes were burning into the back of mapi’s head as I watched her .

I knew I technically in this moment she hadn’t done anything wrong yet. She just made me unbelievably angry for no reason at all but the girl did cheat on me .I tried to pick out all the things she did that disgusted me but they were all lies.she just looked so undeniably gorgeous.

“yeah, I’m fine”i said focusing my gaze away from the fake blonde. stop it, y/n you can’t go back there.

I caught mapi’s eyes from across the pitch which caused me to shudder. she smiled at me though, unexpectedly but I turned away making her smile falter as I passed the ball back to Laia.

••••

I sat in the corner of the locker room, my eyes closed as I silently cried and hugged my knees against the chest.

training had been over and done with and as well as it went and I couldn’t wait to have my debut for this team, my heart hurt, more than ever .

I was convinced pretty much everyone had gone home by now, if someone was here they would’ve came in by now and the locker room was pretty much empty.

suddenly I heard footstep but I ignored them, resting my head against my knees until I felt a hand tapping my shoulder and sitting down into the spot next to me .

“hey, you okay?”the voice made me freeze up. I knew that voice all too well.

“why do you want?”I looked up at her and her eyes widened seeing my blotchy and blood shot, red eyes.

“please y/n, just tell me what’s wrong, I know I hurt you but I still care for you”she said with a sympathetic gaze directed at me .

I sighed, leaning my head back against the wall behind me. “I hate it here”i mumbled .

“no you don’t”she dismissed and I raised an eyebrow at her .

“how would you know?”I asked her with a bit of sass laced in my voice .

“y/n please, I dated you for four years, I know what your like and I was watching you today, believe it or not and you didn’t look like you hated it, you fit in with the team really well”i sighed in frustration, rubbing my hands against my face .

“what’s really going on?”she asked placing her hand on my shoulder before I pushed it off, turning to her .

“I hate it because you are here!”i exclaimed, now being nose to nose with her .

“I-I don’t understand”she shook her head confused and I groaned .

“well learn to maps, I had buried my feelings for you so hard in my heart when we broke up because you hurt me so much yet I’ve never loved anyone that much and seeing you here today, four years later, I fell in love all over again and I don’t think I can do it”i shook my head, wanting to scream into my pillow and cry.

“oh y/n”mapi leaned down and for some reason I didn’t recognise the look on her face as she cupped my cheeks .

“please don’t touch me, mapi”I flinched, forcing myself to look away from her .

“y/n I”she started but I cut her off.

“no, mapi, I can’t do this, if I keep looking in your eye I will fall in love all over again and I can’t go through that, it’s too painful”i turned my head to the side and biting my lip, to stop myself from bursting into tears.

“y/n, I’ll never hurt you again, I promise you”she said grabbing my chin again, and I let her this time.

“how do I know that?”I asked naïvely .

“because y/n, I still love you”she confessed and I closed my eyes shut in fear.

when I didn’t respond she carried on. “it’s true and you might hate me even more but I don’t care, you need to know. All the girls?their nothing compared to you.nothing.I’ve never liked any of them the way I love you”.

“mapi”she knew I still wasn’t convinced.

“y/n, I’m not asking you to get back with me and sleep next to me tonight all I’m asking is for a second chance, it was four years ago, I’ve changed which may be hard to believe but I want to get you to earn my trust again”I was slowly easing to her way but I still wasn’t sure.

“I don’t know, mapi”I shook my head but she didn’t seem to be giving up.

“mi amore, please? just take it one step at a time yeah? and in the end you can choose alright? so how about coffee?tomorrow?”she asked with a hopeful.

“y-yeah, I can do coffee”i nodded making her smile .

“Perfect. I’ll drive us there after training okay?that sound good?”she asked and I nodded.

“I’ll see you tomorrow y/n”she was careful as she pulled me into a small hug, kiss my forehead and leaving the room after picking up her stuff.

••••

“hi y/n, you alright?”mapi asked me as we met up outside the car park and I nodded silently adjusting my kit bag on my shoulder.

“great, let’s go, if your ready of course?”she asked as I nodded again, she was still very wary of me.

“yeah, I’m ready” I whispered as we headed to her car and she drove to the cafe. the whole car ride was silent with me leaning my head against the window, the radio on as Mapi drove to the cafe she was familiar with, which didn’t take too long to get here.

once we had arrived, she quickly opened the door and got out of the car but as I moved to do the same, in a flash, she was there opening the door.

“for the lady”she smirked and I got out chuckling shyly. I muttered a small thank you as we headed towards the cafe.

The bell rang as we entered the cafe a few heads turning toward us which we didn’t mind our business with.

“Is this okay?”she asked, pointing to the small two people's table in front of the window.

“yeah, this is fine” I said sliding into my seat.

“Okay, I’ll go order for us what would you like?” she asked me, leaning against the table.

“umm, cappuccino please” I smiled and she nodded walking to the counter to order our drinks.

I sighed as I watched her walk away, god I hated her I mean hated her .I hated the way she walked, the way she talked, the way she dressed today, how she looked, why did she have to look so beautiful and most of all I hated the way she looked putting the heart she broke back together with her kind gestures.

“here you go”I was brought out of my trance with my cappuccino plane in front of me. mapi sat down opposite me and sipped on her green tea.

“you okay?”she asked and I nodded, sipping on my hot drink after blowing on it to lower the temperature.

“I’m fine” I mumbled, placing my cup down on the table.

“Can I?”she asked apprehensively as she reached to grab my hands. I nodded slowly as she took them on her own.

“y/n, I just wanted to say, I’m really sorry for what I did and I will never stop apologising because to be honest I’m lucky you're giving me this chance cause I don’t deserve it but I have to try, cause I never stop thinking about you,” she said breathlessly.

“mapi, hey, you did hurt me a lot, but I’m not closing this off, I can see you actually care and that your putting effort in” I reassure her cupping her cheeks and she leaned into my hands.

“really?”she whispered and I nodded with a smile, it was the first time I had smiled around her in a long time.

“yeah, I’m not saying you're forgiven but this is the start of a new us and trust me I would’ve said no if there weren’t feelings still there.

“Okay, yeah I understand, but just know this is gonna work y/n, I know it, I’m gonna fight for us” she stoked my cheek making me smile.

“so wanna go back to my place?”she said cheekily as we stood up wrapping her arm around me.

“Hey, don’t be too pushy now” I smiled making her laugh as we walked out of the coffee shop with my head on her chest.

It was the start of something new.

Two fics in one day?me?never

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso one shot #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon imagine #espwnt x reader #espwnt imagine #bc femeni x reader #bc femeni imagine

464 notes · View notes

villainofmyownstory · 19 days

Text

Blurry

Part 2

masterlist

part 1 | 1.2 | part 3

pairing: exhusband!Captain John Price x fem!Reader

summary: You visit your ex-husband, in your once shared home. The memories are painful. But only for you. Unfortunately, after that one bloody mission, John doesn't remember you. The memory of your life together, blurred in his mind.

tags: afab reader, hurt, ex lovers, ex-husband, recollection of death, loss of memory, ambiguous/open ending

2.5k words

author's note: @blackhawkfanatic @who-needs-to-sleep @rafaelacallinybbay because you asked about part 2 <3

If anyone wants to be added or removed from the taglist - let me know.

——————————————————————————————————

Something inside you has broken.

It seems that for a long time, you were pieces that were temporarily glued together.

In the end, pretending was a good thing.

After all, the one who laughs the loudest internally cries the hardest.

Since those three days, weeks have passed. And somehow you couldn't move on. Maybe you should ask about that ring on his finger that unexpectedly appeared. Or maybe you should forget, finally move on, start living your life as before and never look back.

And of course, the phone rang every day. The boys, as usual, cared about you, not just him. After all, the captain's orders were to take care of you, too.

Even if he said those words so long ago. Before.

Do you think these waters will ever be shallower? That the current of the river, will carry you away and let you swim inertly to another shore? Or will you drown in the mud and your body sink inertly to the bottom. Forgotten. Left until your flesh rots, disintegrates eaten by river creatures.

His warm hands gently hold your waist. Keeping you from falling off the chair. Even though this is November outside it's already exceptionally cold. It even snowed lightly today. However, there was no longer any sign of it now.

You try to concentrate on decorating the tree, but the presence of a man in your flat is slightly overwhelming.

You let him. You accepted it all. Feeling inside, somewhere deep under your ribs, that this is madness. But despite everything, this discomfort, the smile doesn't leave your face.

You look down at him, his hands still holding your hips. Maybe you can stay like this for a while longer. You feel safe. Wanted. Needed. Belonged to someone.

”I'll turn on the lights”

he says finally helping you off the chair. You take a few steps away to get a better view.

Your first Christmas together. Never mind that it's just the two of you. And you don't mind that it's November.

What matters is that someone finally put your broken pieces together.

He was just yours.

In a few days he had to go on a mission. For unknown amount of time.

So this year Christmas came sooner. And you glance at him as he looks at the decorated Christmas tree with pride written on his face. To turn his gaze to you with the same delight.

”Somethin' wrong?”

You don't answer, blushing slightly. No one has ever looked at you like that.

”Nothing”

you mumble embarrassed

”You look nice in that Christmas sweater” you reply and reluctantly glance back at tree.

”Do you like snowmen, dove?”

The phone rings. It rings nonstop. A familiar picture appears on the screen.

That's right, today is Wednesday.

You allow yourself not to answer.

Several times.

Finally, you slide your finger across the screen.

"Everythin’ okay?"

Kyle, as usual without greeting, gets straight to the point

"I've been waiting for an hour and you're not here. Do you want me to come get you?"

Silence.

"Or maybe I should call Simon?"

That will do.

"I'll be there in half an hour."

You sigh, slowly letting the air out, as if you've been holding it in your lungs for the last few minutes. You quickly take the keys and leave the cold apartment.

You let him hold your hand. Maybe it's weakness. Maybe longing. Or maybe selfishness.

When the therapy is over and you're sitting in his car, you see a Tupperware container in the back seat. You know very well what it means.

"Jessica thought you'd be hungry. You know how she is. She always cooks too much, and Captain won't eat it all himself” Kyle hands you a heavy container and a spoon

"How long?"

You don't dare raise your eyes, heavy eyelids close for a moment. The world starts spinning again. You don't want to hear that she is there again. Why is she there. After all, it was your home too. Never hers.

But of whom you want to make a fool, you know very well the reason.

"Two weeks." Kyle looks through the windshield, nervously tapping his fingers on the steering wheel

"Friday will be three years from-"

"Don't."

You speak quickly and dryly. You don't want to hear it. You know perfectly well that Friday is the anniversary of the accident.

You should be the one standing in the kitchen. It should be you. There.

"Should I drive you back to your apartment? One of the guys will drive the car back later."

You don't answer, your eyelids are heavy. It's as if they've stuck together and don't want to give you even a hint of light. Any comfort of a still bright day.

Drowning. To sink into the darkness. In an abyss of pain. Rot and suffer. This is your destiny. Forgotten.

"Hey, do you want to talk? Maybe someone should stay with you for the next few days?"

Kyle looks at you, sees your gray, tired face. The dark circles under your eyes. Hair that hasn't been cared for by a stylist in years. Fallen cheeks and chapped lips. Someone else is sitting in that car. It's not you anymore.

When you finally get back to your place, you toss the food container into the trash can and, still in your coat and shoes, lie down on the couch, in the living room. You stare dully at the blank wall, hoping that maybe sleep will come now.

It was better with you before, you were already walking on that straight path. Without stumbling, colors appeared on the sides. The sun was rising more and more for you. But again, a shadow that hid somewhere behind you covered your silhouette. Leaning heavily on your shoulders.

Late in the afternoon, when night slowly replaced day, and red and pink colours dance on the walls in the room, you finally fall asleep.

And again, a nightmare comes. You wish you could wake up and stay awake, stare at the ceiling and not have to relive it all over again. Maybe insomnia was some kind of cure for you. An escape.

And here you are in this place. Another broken promise. Once again you are doing something against yourself. You're sitting in the guest room on fresh evenly laid sheets.

In his home.

But when the phone rang in the middle of the night and on the other end you heard from, none other than Ghost (not to be confused with Simon, at that moment he is speaking to you as a soldier, the Captain). So it wasn't even a request. Just a command. Since John's memory had improved considerably since your last visit, along with the doctors, Ghost decided that you would stay with him this time for longer. Due to the fact that Johnny was injured and needed time to rest. Ghost and Gaz went on missions together. This time, to your misfortune, for a few weeks. And Jessica with kids couldn't stay for longer. Everyone had their own responsibilities. So you were chosen. The last option.

When you arrived, John wasn't there yet, he was going to rehab on Thursdays. So you got a few more hours of freedom before he returned. However, something paralyzed you to leave the room. The suitcase stood next to the bed, still unpacked.

The smell in the house, despite such a long time and so many different people who came in every now and then, remained the same. Cigars and burning wood from the fireplace.

Overwhelming. Now suffocating.

And those damn beige walls. Boring, nauseating. But eventually, it had to be repainted, three years ago these four walls witnessed your darkest moments in life.

Maybe it's better to sleep downstairs in the living room.

When John returns and enters the house, everything happens as if you were a different person - a spectator sitting in the front row, watching with bated breath the scene being played out. A scene from the movie called your life.

John puts his keys down on the dresser in the hallway, walks into the living room looks at the already made-up couch and turns in your direction with surprise. And you stand still with a wooden spoon in your hand, not even blinking.

"Oh there you are darling. Are we supposed to have guests tonight?"

You answer absolutely nothing, still standing motionless at the kitchen island, dismayed to see him slowly walk towards you.

And as if nothing ever happened, he grabs you lightly, squeezing your hip, and leans down to kiss your forehead. The kiss seems to last an eternity. It's almost like he's been kissed you for the first time.

He always did that when he came back to you.

But that was then. It was never - after.

"Somethin' wrong?"

He moves away from you and smiles gently, tilting his head, waiting for an answer.

You finally gain some strength in yourself and despite the unreality of the whole situation, which seems as if your brain is playing with you and replaying a scene from the past.

You finally nod slowly, in denial.

"I'll change and help you, I'm exhausted after today's new exercises. But I'm pretty flexible considering my age."

Saying this he smiles wider.

"And how was your day, at work?"

The wooden spoon fell to the countertop with a bang. Echoing in the room.

Mumbling apologetic words, you quickly evade him. You say something about a forgotten business, about making an urgent phone call.

You don't know who to call. Your hands are shaking and wet with sweat. ''It didn't happen.'' you mumble to yourself. Someone who was in charge of your life was a fucking prankster . Every time it seemed like nothing was going to happen, a new unknown and unannounced thing popped up from around the corner. A bloody joke.

Finally deciding to call Johnny, even though he was recently injured and supposed to be resting, you had to hear someone's familiar voice. Something that confirms that you have your feet on the ground. Something that makes you reassure yourself that you're not crazy.

After two signals he picks up and when he hears your frightened voice when you tell him about the situation from a moment ago. Johnny will be here in two hours.

It's nothing that the wound on his thigh hasn't healed yet. Because if his Captain has finally regained his memory. He would, even if he had to walk 1,000 miles barefoot. He would do it without hesitation.

Just to have him back.

So you had to face John somehow, waiting for those two hours. And that seemed to be no easy thing to do. Because you no longer knew what awaited you on the other side of the beige bedroom. Who was the man who just a few weeks ago, every time he saw you, didn't recognize you and asked the same questions.

Was this the old, kindest John, the one you fell in love with many years ago.Was it even still possible, or was what you heard a few minutes ago some kind of error in his hollow, broken memory.

And again, the same scenery. How many times will it all be the same almost so familiar, and in truth so distant and foreign.

John's already dressed in more comfortable clothes, a plain plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and comfortable old, slightly rubbed jeans.

You stand in the threshold of the kitchen nervously clutching the phone, holding it as if it were some sort of lifeline, a connection to something that will save you. Well, from what, exactly? From a man who acts as if the last years, that tragedy never happened, and your marriage continued uninterrupted. Happily.

"Why don't we eat on the terrace? It's a really nice afternoon today."

John is standing at the countertop, his back turned to you cheerfully humming tunes known only to himself.

And you, you stand praying that by some miracle Johnny will get here sooner.

Despite your fatigue after a day's work, you cheerfully bustle around the kitchen, preparing a late supper. John was supposed to come back today, even though it had only been a week. The longing for him was great. Especially since just 3 weeks ago you had written in the documents, different name. Now, you proudly looked at your finger many times a day, seeing no longer an engagement ring. But something much more important.

A gold wedding ring.

Mrs. Price.

Not only was his return a cause for celebration, there was something else.

Once dinner is ready, the table is a bit over-decorated. The room, and practically the whole house, is illuminated only by the candles that have been set up. You stand nervously in the kitchen in your hands holding a small gift bag.

The dress is rather too elegant, as well. But you want this moment to be special, unique. Unforgettable.

Finally, this long-listened-for sound is interrupted by the only oddity you hear - the beating of your own heart.

John stands in the threshold with astonishment

"Honey? What's-?"

Slowly you hear his heavy footsteps, and after a moment you see him. A tired face, this time with longer facial stubble than usual. He is still dressed in a dirty tactical uniform. You don't even want to know what he witnessed in his absence.

He walks up to you and, as usual, one hand rests on your hip gently squeezing it and a warm kiss lands on your forehead.

"Some celebration? don't tell me I forgot about some important anniversary."

John looks up at you, despite his fatigue, his eyes shining happily illuminated by the candlelight.

"No, you haven't forgotten anything. It's something else."

Speaking, you grab a colorful bag and hand it to him

"A gift? oh, that means it is some positive occasion for me. For us?"

You smile nervously waiting for him to see what's inside.

Definitely a very positive news.

Time passes slowly. It's as if someone has pressed the slow motion button on the remote control to see the details better.

John, still in a good mood, finishes preparing the meal and finally turns in your direction and looks at you

"White or red?"

You bite your lower lip, feeling a coppery aftertaste in your mouth.

"Why are you doing this, John? Why is this happening again?"

Slowly saying these words, you look at his hands, which he wipes inattentively.

"But, what's the matter? I wanted to help you with dinner, dove. And I asked what kind of wine you wanted to drink. That's all."

With each step he takes toward you, you back away until you hit the wall.

"Tomorrow you will forget everything again, I don't have the strength anymore. I shouldn't have agreed to this. Again."

John stands close, much too close.

"How could I forget my biggest sweetheart? My beautiful wife? There's no way I'll ever forget you."

You finally lift your gaze, and look into his eyes. Hoping to see the same spark he once had, long ago.

However, all you see is emptiness. A faded blue.

And the only thought in your mind is for Johnny to hurry up and rescue you from this nightmare.

#captain john price #captain price #call of duty #captain john price x reader #john price #cod x reader #exhusband!johnprice #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic #john price cod #john price x reader #john price x you

101 notes · View notes

salsasvault · 6 months

Text

I don't write often but this au has just been sitting in my brain ever since i watched an ep about border security and i need to get it out.

nsfw below, mdni

airportsecurity!ghost + airportsecurity!price x reader

tw: abuse of power, non-con elements, /f!reader/ 18+

It was standard procedure, any sort of suspicious activity needed to be investigated, and it just so happens that was the very flight you were on. Boarding was easy, and the flight was surprisingly pleasant too, a contrast to the intense anxiety you’d felt before the trip, so really everything after that should be a breeze.

Walking into Heathrow Airport gave you a sense of excitement, the trip to London that you had been thinking about finally coming to a reality.

With your carry-on behind you, you made the walk toward the exit, thinking about the trip to the hotel and where you’d eat lunch. As you made your way toward the walkway however multiple TSA agents were blocking the way, the passengers ahead of you already being questioned with their passports in hand.

You let out a quick breath, steading your nerves, this is unusual but then again what do you know about London and their security measures? Trying to suppress the number of anxiety-inducing thoughts, you make your way to one of the available officers. Dressed in a black outfit, name tag reading Riley, in all caps, you look up to meet his eyes. He speaks first.

“Just need to see your passport, and ask a couple of questions.”

“Yeah, no problem! Just give me a second.” You quickly reply, hoping to not raise any suspicion, you really had no reason for him to be suspicious at all but a situation like this left you even more anxious than normal.

Fishing through the handbag, you were thankful for keeping your passport handy, hastily pulling it out, to not waste any more of his time, you hand it over to him.

“Thank you.” He flips it open, glancing at your picture, date of birth, and other information

You silently cringe at the almost 3-year photo old, you haven’t quite mastered the art of government pictures yet.

“And where’ya headed love”

“Just out to London.” You keep your voice steady, trying to keep a sense of calm.

“Alright, you here on business? What’s the reason for your visit?” He glances up at you this time, handing your passport back to you.

You slide it back in your bag while giving him your answer.

“Just here to visit, always wanted to see London.” You say, letting out a nervous laugh at the end of that.

He nods his head. “Are you meeting anyone?” He asks tilting his head.

“Uh yeah, my dad, he flew in earlier, a couple of days ago.”

You respond hoping that this little interaction would be over soon, you weren’t sure how much longer you could chat with a man that looked like him while maintaining composure. Sure he was an officer, but by god was he a good-looking one, you internally scolded yourself for that remark, he’s just doing his job, and thinking about him like that is very wrong. Besides these are highly trained men, so the chances of him knowing you're attracted to him are higher than normal. Of course, normal people probably can't tell.

“A couple of days ago, separate flights?” He questioned.

“Oh yeah. he got a really good deal for the 7th and I was supposed to be on that flight with him but I couldn’t get my time off for that date, hence why, the later meeting.” You gave him a timid smile, gesturing slightly with your hands, hoping that answers any of his questions. You were truthful and didn’t say anything to raise suspicion, so really you should be able to go so you could then blush profusely at the close contact and his accent.

He glanced back at what seemed to be his superior officer, receiving a nod from him you assume you’re in the clear. That was until he opened his mouth.

“Okay, I’m just gonna ‘ave you come back with me, for a couple more questions.”

Your heart dropped, swallowing you gave him a an awkward smile.

“Yeah, yeah no problem.”

“Follow me this way.”

You followed him as he led the way, the nervous thoughts that had so far remained in check started to spring loose. What if they falsely accuse you of something and you can’t prove you didn't do it? God, you had just watched a documentary of a man who spent 30 years in prison for something he didn’t do, what if the next movie’s about you? Cringing internally, you shove everything away, focusing on remaining as calm and composed as possible.

Simon knew they had already apprehended the suspect, they received a tip from the JFK airport that there may have been someone smuggling some form of narcotics, and it was their job to search for them. Stopping passengers was not a common practice but Simon’s done his fair share. Ask the usual questions, confirm their passport, and look for any details that may give anything away.

When you approached him, the only free officer, he felt something stir in his stomach. A young thing, innocent looking, fresh off the plane. He knew you were most definitely not the suspect they were looking for, nonetheless, he proceeded with the standard procedure.

After hearing the first words come out of your mouth, he immediately turned to glance at Price. Both sharing the same look he went back to the task at hand. Pre Deciding they couldn’t just let a pretty thing like you escape from their grasp. He listened to every word you said, a small smirk playing at his lips from the nervousness that lightly dripped from your voice. Poor girl, all alone, being stopped in an unknown country, he could feel the anxiety rolling off of you no matter how much you tried to hide it.

So when he knew he was just about done and ready to take you back, he gave Price one last look, a sly smile tugging on his face, and a nod following. Nothing felt as good as watching you slowly pale after he told you he’d need to bring you back for questioning.

Sitting in the chair opposite to, what looked to be one of the two officers' desks, you bounced your leg up and down. Your luggage tucked in the corner, your phone in hand as you waited for either of them to arrive. You unlock your phone sending a quick text to your Dad, telling him you were caught up with security and they just had some questions to ask you. In return you receive the classic Dad response, a single thumbs up followed by a: “Don’t worry, you’ll be out soon.” Your Dad, ever so helpful.

When the door opened you stilled glancing back to see both men enter, the previous officer, Riley, and a man who looked just slightly older than him, name tag reading Price.

You mentally sighed and cursed at your luck, not only were you stopped for extra questioning but of course as fate would have it both officers had to be stupidly good-looking.

If your underwear started to gain a slight wetness to it, it definitely has nothing to do with them.

Officer Riley locked the door behind him, going to stand in the corner as his superior moved to sit behind the desk.

“I’m Officer Price, we just ‘ave a couple o’ questions to ask ya.” He clears his throat, his demeanor straight to the point.

You glance at his hands, folded on the table, we you wait to answer anything he throws at you.

"You said you were meeting your Dad?" He waits for confirmation looking back down at the paper.

“Yes, He flew a couple days ago.” He shifts.

“Alright, now ma’am, I’m going to be honest here, we were alerted by JFK that there was someone who was potentially smuggling drugs.” He glances up at you before returning his gaze to whatever was on his paper. All the while Officer Riley’s eyes burn holes through you. Your eyes momentarily flicker to his before you return your gaze to the man sitting in front of you.

A small “Oh” was all you could manage, if your heart could drop any further, it did. Your heart rate slowly rises, you know you didn’t smuggle anything, but the thought of being put away for something you didn’t do sat heavy on your mind.

A cute little thing you were, sat fidgeting in front of Price, each word coming out of his mouth made you shrink. He could practically feel the anxiousness oozing off of you. No fret, you’ll feel better soon. He knew that none of this was necessary, all for show so he and Simon could have their way with you. If they were on their own personal lunch break you wouldn't know, he continued, explaining what would happen next.

“I’m just going to have Officer Riley here search your bag if that’s alright.” He voices, he looks down at the same sheet of paper, and then raises it back up to look at you.

“Yeah! That-That’s no problem.” You sit in your seat as you watch Officer Riley move to grab your luggage, mentally going through anything in there that could raise concerns.

He lifts the suitcase, setting it down on the metal table tucked in the corner. Unzipping it, he opens it, revealing your clothes and the various little bags you made to separate your toiletries. He goes through the clothes, sifting through each, one by one, unfolding and rearranging. He lifts a pair of your black lace underwear, holding it up and inspecting it.

Your cheeks burn, your face hot in embarrassment.

Once he’s satisfied with the extent he’s searched, he closes the bag, zipping it back and placing it on the floor.

“No issues detected Sir.”

“Good, alright following protocol were gonna ‘ave to search ya.” His scouse accent trickling through.

You felt another wave of heat and embarrassment and hint of wetness flooding you. Rendered a little you speechless, you nod. Answering finally,

“I-okay, you-okay.”

Officer Riley from his position in the corner.

“ Need ya t’a spread your arms for me, move those legs apart too-yeah just like tha'.”

He really had no reason to sound so sexual for something as tame as a search. You did as told though, following his orders. His hands roaming across your body patting down any areas “necessary”, you chalked off the extra time he spent on your breasts and crotch to another ‘simply doing his job’. Once the search was over he straightened up, telling his superior that it was all clear. You finally let out a breath, hoping to be let free.

“Last step and we’ll send you out, I’ll be conducting a strip search.”

At this point whatever forces that were out there were torturing you, you could no longer hide the wetness pooling inside your underwear. And the shock running through your body made sure you were unable to form words. You gave a nod in replacement to the stuttering alternative.

He walked you over to the table where your luggage had just been, bending you at the waist. As your heart rate picked up, you then open your mouth.

“I’m sorry-but is this really necessary, I mean I’ve never committed any crime, like ever, and my suitcase is clear I-”

“Just do as you're told, if you have nothing to hide you should have no issues.”

You quickly close your mouth as his hands pull your pants down roughly, pooling at your feet. Your underwear clinging to you, the wetness apparent. He continues his “search”, pulling at your underwear, letting it fall alongside your pants.

You squeak out a sound of embarrassment, eyes filling with humiliation. He presses up against you, fingers moving up and down your slit. The faintest groan could be heard, from who, you weren’t sure.

“Fucking dripping.” He lets out a chuckle, as you go to protest. Before you can get anything out however he shoves a finger inside.

Your eyes screw shut, as he thrusts his finger into you, adding a second to join in.

“Part of the procedure, sweetheart.”

You let out small breaths, the faintest whines following after, as you tried to conceal your noises. He hits a spot inside you causing you to choke out a gasp. Price lets out a noise of approval, choosing to then continuously hit that spot.

“You-” you let out a small moan, as he rubs around your g-spot, your brain short-circuiting.

“What’s that? You gonna ‘ave to speak up love.” He taunts, relishing in your embarrassment.

He continues his ministrations, his other hand coming to roughly rub at your clit. You can’t help the small moans that leave your mouth, as you try to hold them back.

“Oh fuck-”

You hear Officer Riley move toward you, manhandling your body so your splayed at the corner, backside facing Price while, face level with his crotch. He crouches down slowly to meet your eyes.

“Be as loud as you want lovie, no one can hear ya.” He probe his finger in your mouth, as you keep it clasped shut.

“Have t’a search it, part of the procedure.”

Price hits that spot inside you harder, causing you to let out another moan, mouth opening for him.

“Perfect.” He groans out, fingers pushing your tongue down.

“Where ‘ave they been hiding ya?” He smirks, standing to unbutton his pants, a noise of surprise is let out by you, muffled by his fingers.

Left hand singularly undoing his belt. Shoving his pants down, stopping at his knees.

His cock springs out, thick and large, your eyes widening at the sight.

Price behind you pulls his fingers out abruptly, helping you regain some consciousness you open your mouth to protest at the man infront of you.

Your actions however, are interrupted by the thick length being shoved inside you from the man at your backside.

“Have to be thorough.” He lets out a laugh, dark eyes feeding off the sight of you.

You choke a sound of surprise, as he almost immediately starts a brutal pace. The man in front of you speaks.

“You're gonna be a good girl for me, open up nice and wide.” He clicks his tongue.

You shake your head until Price drives into you especially hard. Mouth opening in surprise.

“That’s it, good girl.” You gasp around his length, being fucked into by the pair of them.

Price chimes in from behind.

“Look at you, such a good girl letting two officers fuck you, making sure she’s not causing any trouble.” He reaches over to rub at your clit, fingers moving in quick circular motions. Both of them rocking into you at a brutal pace.

You feel yourself approaching your climax, with muffled moans and cries.

“Can you feel clenching around me sweetheart, be a good girl, come on my cock, that's it.” He groans, his pace speeding up as the other approaches his climax as well.

After a harsh rub to your clit you come, body shaking as tears leak from your eyes. Price continues his thrusts, as you inadvertently suck him in, the little whines vibrating around Simons's cock. They both finally come with a low groan, thick salty liquid coating your tongue and insides as you struggle to swallow.

“Fuckin’ hell.” The man in front of you moans out.

They both slowly slide out, leaving you boneless on the table, as you whine out at the movement.

“Quite the mess.” Price comments, a dark laugh following from the man in front of you.

You make an exhausted noise in response. Quite the mess indeed.

#simon ghost riley x reader #john price x reader #salsawritesforonce #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley smut #john price smut #captain john price x reader #cod mw2 #cod smut #john price x reader smut

194 notes · View notes

cryptidcorners · 7 months

Text

Gardenia - Josh Futturman x M!Reader

Description: Being Josh's childhood friend, you never would have expected to see him appear by your doorstep after a month of radio silence. Though, in this particular visit, he's desperate to air out his true feelings before traveling through time. Unknowing if he'll ever come back to see you again.

Media: Future Man!Show

Character: Josh Futturman

Tags: Friends to Lovers, Established Relationship, Childhood Friends, Catching Up, Confessions, Light Angst to Fluff, Kissing, Romantic, Comfort, Sweet Stuff

Warnings: Arguing (+ about Josh ghosting reader), Foul Language, Mental Breakdown/Depression Mentions

read my TOS + Josh Futturman Masterlist

Dread twisted in your stomach like rusted wire, and your constant stirring on your mattress was robbing you of any justice of getting any variant of rest. Your eyes grew heavy, dangerously puffy from expelling your grief several dark hours ago. Though, it had only felt like seconds to you. Your thoughts raced like a wild flock of puzzled birds, breath hitching along with it as you slowly fell into decay.

Your gaze was fixed to your glowing digital screen, eyes fixed on your messages with your old friend, Josh Futturman. It had been weeks of endless radio silence, along with your desperate texts. You were more worried than upset if anything. You went to his house to drop off a game you had finished, but his parents said he wasn't there. Along with all the other days you had made excuses to stand at his doorstep.

His parents weren't liars, and they wouldn't deny you. They knew Josh and you were close. You even remembered Diane saying you were helping him in ways they had struggled to for years. Your lip quivered, so why would he leave?

You two only argued once during a blue moon, you shared so much in common and you swore every second was sincere with him. It had always been him, and it had always been you. Ever since you were kids you were inseparable, to the point others figured you were his boyfriend due to how close you were. It was ridiculous.

Yet, here you were, hunched over and dry with internal pain, thoughts still clinging onto the thought of Josh. You were starved to see him again. He understood everything about you, even with the design of your mind being incredibly complicated. Had you done something wrong? Had you offended him? Had he grown tired of you? Did he even like you?

Then, you heard your doorbell. The familiar tune caught you off guard, but it had made you fix up your wrecked expression promptly and sluggishly fix your clothes. You raced downstairs while catching your breath. You were too out of it to care who it was, but you weren't stupid enough to open it at random. You rested your forehead against the door, "Who is it?" you asked weakly.

"Josh," a familiar voice answered. Muffled, and seemingly distressed as well. You jolted up and needily worked your hands to unlock the door. Your face was brimmed with shock. It was him, but covered in bruises and sweat. His curls were lazy and messy, his eyes were wide and his chest was rising and falling rapidly. Still, his gentle tone made you weak, relieved. But also incredibly angry. "Hey." He said, "Long time no see?"

You struggled to collect your thoughts. "Yeah." Your eyes narrowed, "Do you want to come inside?"

"Please." Josh stated. You didn't say anything, and gestured for him to walk toward. As soon as you shut the door, he immediately opened his mouth and began rambling, "Look, I'm—, I'm so sorry I didn't talk to you." His eyes met yours, "Trust me, I didn't mean to leave you for so long." Josh stammered, "I was just, so wrapped up in something. And, I wanted to talk to you, but I couldn't, please, I didn't–"

You sucked your teeth, "Where were you Josh?"

"I–" his hands landed heavily at his sides, his face slightly appalled at himself. As if he were a dumbfounded audience. "I can't tell you."

"Why not?" You grew agitated, spilling out your gallons of binded frustration. "Why did you ghost me for over a month? Where . . . Where were you?" You breathed heavily, "I thought you hated me, or something terrible happened to you. God, your parents didn't even know where you were!"

Josh choked out a cry, "You don't understand. I didn't want to hurt you,"

"But you did!" You interrupted. "Josh, why did you leave? What happened?"

"I can't fucking tell you!" Josh shouted. "You wouldn't understand. It's too complicated!" You grabbed him by the shoulder before he could turn around, "No, I don't think you understand. How could you just go with no explanation? You look terrible. What are you running away from?"

"I'm sorry, I can't tell you." Josh winced, "I'm sorry, okay? Please, I had no choice. I didn't mean to leave you. I didn't do it because I hated you or anything like that, okay?" His breaths were unraveling, "Do you know how much I care about you? You know me. You're my best friend," a low whimper escaped your lips as you stated at him. The tension shifted, and you both gazed at each other longingly. "I love you."

"Josh." You released your grip. "Please, I, don't have much time. I love you, so much. I would never, ever, hurt you." His hands found your face, "I need you to know this." Something grew in your chest, and you brought your head forward. "I love you too."

You don't know who fell first, but you felt relieved once Josh kissed you. His hands scavenged across your back, and you dug your fingers into his hair. He hummed, body relaxing at the feel of you. Once his palm found its way under your shirt, you both collapsed onto your couch.

You were both crosslegged and smothered in each other, skin blazing as your love untangled. His hands found your sides and you were eagerly grabbing his collar to pull him closer. You swear you could see stars once he pulled away, trying to catch his breath. Josh held you close, face still red from the passion you had inflicted just a few seconds ago.

"Hey, I'm sorry." You whispered.

"For what?"

"For getting so angry." You frowned, "I shouldn't have gotten so pissed at something personal happening to you."

Josh cupped your face. You swore you could drown in his eyes, "Don't say that. You deserve to be mad at me, I left you. And it's okay, just . . . stay here with me." You cuddled up next to him with a sleepy exhale, smiling softly. "Stay."

Josh whispered, "I promise I'll make it up to you. In any way I can,"

#🎮 josh futturman #josh futturman #josh futturman x reader #josh futturman x male reader #josh hutcherson #future man #future man 2017 #guys im the first person to make a josh x m fic #r u proid of me???#writing #writers on tumblr

144 notes · View notes

butdaddyilovehim-hs · 9 months

Text

Tolerate It III

"Tell me I've got it wrong somehow."

Read Part II here

Harry watches as Kendall leaves, his heart heavy with the weight of the situation. He turns his attention back to Y/N, who stands there, waiting for his explanation. He knows he doesn't have much time to make things right, and he takes a deep breath before he starts speaking.

"Y/N, I swear, I didn't invite her over. I had no idea she was coming. I've been a mess since you left, and I've barely left this place. She must have just shown up on her own," he pleads, his voice full of sincerity.

Y/N's grip on her bag loosens slightly, but she doesn't sit back down. Her eyes are still filled with hurt and doubt, and Harry can see her fight or flight kicking in.

"I know I messed up, and I can't even begin to express how sorry I am for everything. I love you, Y/N, more than anything in this world. You and Elle mean everything to me, and I've been a fool for not showing it," Harry continues, his voice cracking with emotion.

Y/N remains silent, her gaze fixed on him. Harry knows that he needs to give her more than just words. He needs to show her that he's committed to making things right.

"I'm going to make it up to you, Y/N. I'll do whatever it takes to rebuild your trust. We'll go to counselling if you want, and I'll be more present in Elle's life. I promise to be the husband and father you both deserve," Harry says, his voice filled with determination.

Y/N finally sits back down, her bag still in her lap. She looks at him with a mixture of sadness and hope in her eyes.

"Harry, this isn't going to be easy. Rebuilding trust takes time, and I can't just forget everything that's happened. But I want to believe that we can work through this," she says, her voice quivering.

Harry nods, relieved that she's willing to give him a chance. He reaches out and gently takes her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"I know it won't be easy, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make things right. I love you, Y/N, and I'll spend the rest of my life proving that to you."

Y/N's eyes soften, and she leans in to kiss him. It's a tender and heartfelt kiss, filled with all the love they've shared over the years. It's a kiss that signifies a fresh start, a chance to rebuild what was broken.

As they pull away, Y/N gives him a small smile, the first genuine one he's seen in days. "Okay, Harry, let’s try and fix it.”

Harry nods, his heart feeling lighter than it has in days. "I know, and I'm ready for all of it. I just want us to be okay again."

Y/N places her hand on his cheek, wiping away a stray tear. "We'll get through this together, Harry. But it's going to take time and effort from both of us."

Harry leans into her touch, closing his eyes briefly before opening them to meet her gaze. "I'm willing to do whatever it takes, love. I promise."

And in that moment, as they sit together on the couch, holding onto each other, they both believe that maybe, just maybe, they can find their way back to the love that had once been so strong.

So they do it. They go to counselling for the first time and Harry is a shaking bundle of nerves and Y/N is internally breaking down. Because what if it doesn’t work out? They sit in the waiting room, the minutes ticking away slowly, the tension in the air palpable. Harry's leg bounces nervously, and he can't help but feel like he's about to face a judgmental tribunal. He glances at Y/N, who is lost in her thoughts, her fingers nervously playing with the edge of her sweater. He reaches out and gently touches her hand, offering a reassuring smile. She looks at him and manages a small, trembling smile in return.

When their names are called, they enter the therapist's office together. The therapist, a calm and empathetic woman, greets them warmly and invites them to sit down on the cozy couch. The session begins, and Harry and Y/N take turns talking about their feelings, their fears, and their hopes. It's difficult at first, and there are moments when tears flow freely. They confront the pain they've caused each other and the scars it has left on their relationship.

The therapist guides them through various exercises, helping them communicate more effectively and teaching them strategies for rebuilding trust. They start to see the deep-seated issues that led to their problems in the first place, and it's not easy to confront those truths.

As the session progresses, Harry's nerves start to ease. He realises that this process isn't about judgment but about healing. Y/N, too, begins to feel a glimmer of hope as they explore ways to rebuild their relationship.

After the first session ends, they step out into the daylight, and Harry takes Y/N's hand in his, squeezing it gently. "How are you feeling?" he asks softly.

Y/N looks at him, her eyes reflecting a mix of emotions. "Nervous, but I think it's a step in the right direction. We have to try, Harry, for ourselves and for Elle.”

Harry nods in agreement, his heart heavy with the weight of their journey ahead. "I know, love. And I promise you, no matter how hard it gets, I'm with you every step of the way.”

A/N: Finally the end to this series. Thank you for all the love on it :)

Tags: @lukesaprince @harryspirate @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @lilyrmason12 @styleslover-1994 @stylesfever @kathb59 @indierockgirrl @bxbyysstuff @gills-lounge @lomlhstyles @opheliaofficial07 @behindmygreyeyes @gem1712 @stylesmoonlight12 @babyiamperfectforyou @velvetballaspark @harrys-flower @macy-tpwk @mema10 @jerseygirlinca @daphnesutton @rafaaoli

#harry styles #hslot #love on tour #harrystyles #harry styles au #harry styles fic #harry styles fics #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles ceo #harry styles angst #tolerate it #taylor swift #harry styles imagines #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing

273 notes · View notes

starstruckkittensweets · 4 months

Text

puppy love (iii)

Chuuya Nakahara x Reader

fandom: bungo stray dogs

I didn't mean for this to be so long. I'm so sorry. I just really like writing about Chuuya interacting with dogs. Again I apologize (but I hope you enjoy)! (And the panel comes from the manga Kimi ni Todoke!)

warnings: fem reader, pet names (doll, lady, etc.), mentions of pet abandonment in the past, mentions of stray dogs, slight angst towards the end, a bit of mutual pining (but they don't know it yet bc they're kinda dumb) || words: 5.5k

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

Chuuya has never known himself to be nervous.

Wary? Sure. Itching to get something over with? Absolutely. Pissed off beyond all belief? Of fucking course—he’s put up with Dazai for all these years, hasn’t he?

But he’s never felt quite like this. Standing in front of the shabby little shop you call home, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, fingers twitching in his pockets—not to mention the swarm of butterflies that’s taken refuge in the depths of his stomach. His throat is unnaturally dry, beads of sweat gathering at his forehead.

Why the fuck is he so damn nervous?

He has no reason to be. He knows no danger lies beyond that door, none whatsoever. And even if there was a fight waiting for him, he’d come out on top in two seconds flat.

Nothing to worry about. It’s just you and those dogs you keep yammering on about.

(Maybe that’s why he’s so worried.)

He shakes his head and knocks on the door. You’ve already turned the lights down, placed the closed sign right there in the window, and yet he can hear you scurrying on the other side of the door. A few seconds later it swings open, and the sight of your smile immediately puts him at ease.

“I’m so glad you could make it!”

He steps inside as you shut the door behind him. One of the lights flicker on, bathing the room in a warm golden glow.

This is the first time he’s actually seen your shop, and he’s pleased to find it looks much more comfy than the outside. A bit small in size, but the selection of pet supplies is plenty enough to brag about. Different brands of dog and cat food, assortments of leashes and collars in all kinds of colors, rows of dog toys and treats lining the counters. The floors are clean, the blinds are shut, and everything seems to be in order.

But not a single pup in sight.

“You want anything to drink?” You’re already motioning him to follow you behind the counter, towards the back of the store. “It’s alright, I’m the only one here. I won’t tell anyone,” you add with a wink.

Fuck, more annoying butterflies.

“That’s fine, I’m alright.” He sheds his overcoat and hangs it on one of the hooks by the door, but leaves the hat perched on his head. Luckily you don’t question it.

“They’re in the back, follow me.”

There’s a spring in your step as you lead him through the back hall, through a set of double doors and into what looks like a lounge of some kind. A slightly-worn couch rests by the corner, as well as a table with only a couple chairs to keep it company. But he doesn’t have time to survey the whole room before you disappear through another door, and he picks up the pace just to keep up with you.

Finally you come to a stop, resting a hand on the doorknob and throwing him a smile over your shoulder.

“They’re inside. You ready?”

He swallows the collection of cobwebs in his mouth. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

But you don’t open the door. Don’t even move an inch. You just stare at him with those big eyes, those pretty eyes, as your lips shift into a frown.

“…What?” Did he do something wrong? Did he fuck this up already?

“You don’t have to be nervous, you know.”

“I’m not nervous,” he says a little too quickly, and he bites back a groan when you give him a knowing smile.

“It’s alright, they can be a lot to handle sometimes. But they’ll love you, I promise! Besides, you’ve met three of them already. The other five are gonna be all over you when they see you!”

Two, he corrects you internally. He’s met two of them so far, the third one keeps his distance and fucking glares at him. Hardly a win in his book. Are any of the others like that? Or is it just that one who’s got a stick up his ass?

No, don’t be like that. It’s not the dog’s fault it doesn’t like people; hell, Chuuya himself doesn’t even like people all that much. The nerves are just making him feel on edge.

Fuck it, he’s not nervous!

“They won’t bite,” you add with a laugh, but he still remains locked in his spot behind you. So you hold out a hand and tilt your head, reminding him of the night he first met you. So much like that one dog you have, the shiba pup. “They love meeting new people. And if Kotaro already loves you”—oh yeah, that’s the shiba’s name—“then the others are sure to follow his lead.”

The way you’re looking at him, a gentle look in your eyes, hand outstretched hopefully in his direction…

It’s no big deal. It’s just a bunch of dogs. He loves dogs, right? Never met a dog he didn’t like! They just happen to belong to you, and you’ve…just got a lot of them. Nothing too major, he’s dealt with much worse in his life.

But that’s just it. They’re your dogs, not just stray animals he crosses paths with on the street. They mean the absolute world to you, he knows it in the way you talk about them. You show it in the way you clutch Kotaro to your chest, pressing kiss after kiss to his furry head. The way your eyes light up at even the slightest mention of one of your dogs, how you’re so eager to brag about the new trick they learned or what they did at the park earlier that day.

You love them with everything your heart has to offer…and Chuuya just hopes he’s good enough to give them the attention and adoration they deserve.

A heavy sigh passes through his lips; slowly but surely, he places his gloved hand in yours. “No biting?” he asks with a smile.

“No biting, I promise! Told them to be on their best behavior today, too.”

It’s only when he nods that you turn the knob and push the door open. You all but pull him in after you, all smiles and laughter and—

Holy shit, that’s a lot of fucking dogs!

All different breeds rush him at once, Kotaro taking the lead and nearly barreling right into Chuuya’s knee. The beagle follows soon after, accompanied by a corgi. (At least he thinks it’s a corgi.) Two little Chihuahuas are yipping and running circles around his ankles. A dachshund paws at the tip of his shoe before latching her teeth around it.

“Hey, hey, come on! Be nice!”

You clap your hands and wave your arms to shoo them away. Just like clockwork the dogs turn their attention on you, a blur of wagging tails and drool and perked-up ears. You scoop up the pair of Chihuahuas, holding one in each arm, and gently nudge the dachshund away from Chuuya with your leg.

Over your shoulder he can see the last two dogs: the grumpy bulldog he met a few days ago (the one who looks like he hates his guts), and a schnauzer whose tail hasn’t stopped wagging since he walked in the room. There’s a slight limp in the schnauzer’s step; it’s favoring its front left paw, but he can’t see any visible wound on the skin. Placing the twin Chihuahuas down, you give the schnauzer a scratch under its bearded chin before pressing a kiss to its head.

“Sit!”

About half the dogs listen, Kotaro not being one of them. He’s still busy sniffing the area around Chuuya, rubbing against his leg like a cat. You snap your fingers over and over, huffing when the dog blatantly ignores you. Finally you stand up and scoop him up in your arms, placing him down in between the dachshund and the beagle.

“You alright?” Your smile is a bit wobbly. Are you just as nervous as he is?

For some reason the thought quells the storm of butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

“I’m fine, doll. Nothin’ I can’t handle,” he adds with a smirk, and you quickly avert your eyes back down to the dogs.

You sink down to sit on the floor, patting the space beside you. Unfortunately Kotaro takes that as his cue to move—even before Chuuya can settle himself down, he’s wrestling a rowdy shiba pup off his lap.

But when one dog goes, the rest of the pack is sure to follow. And suddenly the two of you are swamped in furry bodies and swishing tails and scrabbling paws. One puppy on your lap, another in your arms, and one nosing at your pocket in hopes of finding a snack or two.

“This one’s Sora,” you say, holding the corgi up to him. Chuuya can’t even speak, too captivated by the pup’s sweet brown eyes. “He’s a cutie, isn’t he? And he’s—oh, hey! I would never forget about you, Ocha, don’t worry!” You reach over to pat the dachshund right between her ears. “This little girl is Ocha. She can get a bit jealous but she’s an absolute sweetheart! Oh! And these two are Yuki and Yui! They’re…the troublemakers of the pack!”

Are those the Chihuahuas? One of them is chomping on your shoelaces, while the other one is pawing at his pant leg. The corgi in his arms lets out a soft whine; immediately he brings it closer, letting it sniff his hand and lick his face.

“This is Haru,” you continue, motioning to the schnauzer. “She’s the newest one here. She’s not scared of humans though, so you can pet her all you like! Just let her approach you first. Oh, and be mindful of her paw, she’s recovering from a broken leg. Poor thing could barely walk when we found her! But she’s healing up so nicely…aren’t you, pretty girl?”

The dog lets out a whine, but it almost sounds happy. Her ears are pressed against her head and her stubby tail’s wagging a mile a minute.

Reaching around the corgi’s head—is it Sora? Sounds about right—he holds out a hand to the schnauzer. The dog, Haru, gives a cautious sniff, balances herself on her good paw, and takes another step closer. You’re practically bouncing in your seat as Haru wags her tail and lets Chuuya pet her.

“Aww, she likes you!”

And thank fuck for that; there’s nothing more depressing than a dog that doesn’t like you.

Like that one—he gives the bulldog a sideways glance, and the dog huffs and turns his head.

The beagle nearly trips over his own paws trying to reach Chuuya’s face. The tiny Chihuahua chewing on your shoelaces manages to untie them, and you scramble to grab the string from its mouth with a shriek.

Kotaro, Pochi, Sora… Haru, right?

Something nudges his elbow. It’s the little dachshund, staring up at him with big brown eyes, clutching a small stuffed toy in her mouth. She nudges him again, giving a whine and shaking her whole backside in the air.

“What is it, huh?” Fuck, what’s that one’s name again? “You wanna play, is that it?”

The dog yips and bats him with her paw. But when he grabs at the toy, she gives a hard tug and nearly rips the damn thing right out of his grasp.

“I can’t throw it if you don’t give it to me!”

She doesn’t give up, and neither does he. You laugh at the awkward tug of war between the two, all the while Sora is curled up in Chuuya’s other arm. One of the Chihuahuas crawls into his lap, throwing off his balance just enough for the dachshund to wrench the toy out of his hand.

“Hey, wait—”

It’s a three-way assault: Kotaro plants his paws right on his shoulders, Sora leans up to lick his face, and the dachshund—Ocha, that’s it!—practically throws herself right into his lap, all but knocking the poor Chihuahua out of the way. The poor pup tumbles to the floor, but you’re quick to scoop him up before he can whine.

“Sorry, Yuki,” you manage through your laughter, “Ocha didn’t mean it, I promise. …And sorry, Chuuya! Usually they’re not this rowdy!”

But he finds himself laughing along with you—of course, you apologize to the dog first—even when Kotaro’s weight knocks him over onto the floor. He’s on his back know, knees bent with the beagle ducking beneath them, and the tiny corgi curled up on his chest. Kotaro’s wet nose is pressed against his cheek, Ocha’s paw nudging his shoulder, and oh shit, now the schnauzer’s in on the fun—

“Come on, guys, let him breathe for a bit!” Your voice reaches him through the mess of fur and paws; he sees your hand snake around the dachshund’s body to pull her away. “No doggy pile today!”

Not that he has a problem with that. If this is what you have to deal with every day, living with all these dogs doesn’t seem like such a bad thing.

“Get over here, you little—”

He rolls over, propping himself on his hands and knees, still supporting the corgi against his chest. Kotaro barks and shakes his bottom in the air; the silly look on his face just screams “play with me, damn it!”

Pochi plants his paws onto his shoulders, while Ocha ambushes him from the front. Despite favoring her paw, Haru is quick to chime in with a yip and plants a sweet kiss right on Chuuya’s cheek.

The smug look on Kotaro’s face says it all: You’re surrounded. Give up already, feeble human!

“Alright, alright, that’s enough!”

You’re on your feet now, shooing the dogs away, cringing at the rumpled fabric of Chuuya’s pristine jacket and vest. The flecks of dog hair sprinkled along his dress pants. Not to mention the trails of drool and doggy slobber on his face—

“Come on, be nice.” You slide Pochi out of the way and gently pick up Haru in your arms. Chuuya catches the bulldog glaring at him from across the room; the little shit hasn’t even moved in the last ten minutes or so. “Give him some space, Kotaro!”

Chuuya manages to lift himself to his knees. The little corgi in his arms lifts his head and kisses his chin, his stubby little tail thumping against his hand. A laugh bubbles up in his throat.

“Lovable little shit, ain’t he?”

“Yeah, Sora’s a cuddle bug when he wants to be!” Once the dogs give you some space, you hold out a hand to help him up. “He’s also a sleepy little guy. Gets random bursts of energy but he’s always the first to fall asleep.”

His gloved hand slides against your own, and you pull him to his feet with a grunt. Immediately Haru and Ocha start whining and pawing at his pant leg. Batting their eyes at Sora, all snuggled up against the man’s chest.

“Are they usually just clingy, or is it just me?” he asks with a smile, and you giggle behind your hands.

“Must be you! They’re friendly, but never that friendly to people they’ve just met… They must really like you a lot.”

(Maybe it’s his roguish charm and handsome features. If so, you can’t really blame them.)

“Anyway, looks like they’ve settled down a bit.” He glances at the two pups nestled in your arms; the twin Chihuahuas are already fast asleep, snoring softly with their heads against your chest. “Come on, I’ll show you the rest of the shop.”

The “rest of the shop” isn’t really part of the shop at all; Chuuya learns quickly that it’s just the half-finished room where the dogs live, with the stairs leading up to your apartment just off to the side. He stops himself before he can wonder what’s up there, though.

Not the kind of thoughts he should be having about someone he’s only just yet. And about a lady, no less.

And now the dogs are safe and sound, sprawled out in their individual beds and tucked away for the night. The Chihuahuas sleep in a tiny bed between a mess of blankets, with a dozing Pochi and Ocha on either side of them. Sora is curled up into Haru’s side; when his paw twitches gently, Chuuya thinks he can feel his chest get all warm and fuzzy.

So fucking adorable, aren’t they?

The only ones still awake are Kotaro (who’s made his home at his feet, for some unknown reason), and Shiro, who’s planted his ass firmly on your shoes. Still glaring at him with his bottom teeth jutting out, only wagging his tail when you reach down to pet him.

The two of you are leaning against the counter, side by side, holding a pair of mugs in your hands. Might be too late in the night for it, but holy shit do you make a great cup of coffee.

“I’m glad you think so,” you chuckle, careful to keep your voice low. Don’t wanna wake the babies, right? “I don’t really like it, I kinda have to drink it for these little guys, though. Keeps me going the entire day!”

He looks at you then, really looks at you as you take another sip of your drink. Your frazzled hair, the bags under your eyes, the slight heave in your chest—and the familiar warm glow in your eyes as they sweep over the eight resting dogs.

Running a shop, catering to customers, taking care of eight individual dogs, all with different personalities and needs of their own… No wonder you look so drained. You look like you could sleep for a week straight, and then some with that look in your eye.

He clears his throat and averts his gaze before you can catch him. “You said she’s the newest one, right?” He motions to Haru with a hand, snickering as she snuggles deeper into her little makeshift bed. “How long have you had her?”

“Only a couple weeks.” You place your mug down and sweep a hand through your hair. “We found her wandering around the streets one night—well, Kotaro found her, really. Poor girl was digging through the trash and limping so badly! We took her to the vet right away, fixed up her leg so she could walk again. She had a collar but when we tried calling the owners there was no answer.”

Your hands suddenly curl around the edge of the counter. Nails biting into the surface, teeth clenched and eyes wild with fire. Chuuya stops himself from reaching out to you, instead tightening his grip on his mug and taking another sip.

“They wouldn’t answer our calls, and when the vet stopped by their place he realized they’d moved… Didn’t even have the sense to bring her to a shelter first. Just up and left her, like she didn’t even matter.”

Such a sweet dog, so kind and gentle, with her favored paw resting so nicely on the blankets… Little puffs of air escaping through her nose, brushing against the corgi’s fluffy head.

And suddenly he wants to shatter the mug in his hand. The thought of leaving a mess on your floor is enough to keep him at bay, but the white-hot fury is still blazing through his veins.

How could someone treat such an innocent animal like that?

He wouldn’t have guessed it, with how friendly she had been with him earlier. Eager to play and get to know him, licking at his face and wagging her cute little tail. And extremely loyal from what he’s seen so far, with the way she looks at you and responds to your voice. What kind of dumbass would let go of such a perfect companion?

“…Are they all street dogs?” His voice is strained, but his eyes are gentle when they meet your own. “Abandoned, I mean?”

“No, not all of them. This one,” you lean down to rub Shiro’s chest, “I knew his old owner. He was moving away and he couldn’t take Shiro with him. He used to work at the shop, that’s why he asked me. Sometimes I think he still misses him.”

That explains why the dog’s such a hard-ass. But he can’t find it in himself to blame him. Chuuya knows a thing or two about losing people he cares about.

“Pochi and Sora were hanging around the shop before I took them in. At first I thought they were cats, but then I heard barking one night and knew I had to bring them in.” That familiar smile is back on your face as you gush about your puppies. “Ocha? I found her while coming home from a friend’s house, in a thunderstorm of all things! Now she doesn’t like storms, but show me a dog that does!”

You slide your mug further away before lifting yourself onto the edge. Only when you pat the space beside you does Chuuya do the same, careful not to spill what little coffee he has left in his own mug.

“The twins, Yuki and Yui,” you point to the tiny Chihuahuas in the center, “…I don’t know where they came from, honestly. I just opened the door one day and they were there. Right on the doorstep, practically newborn, no note or anything. I don’t even know what happened to their mother.”

Shiro yawns and settles down at the base of the counter, his legs sprawled out in front of him. Meanwhile Kotaro turns his attention to Chuuya, whining until the man caves in and scratches behind his ear.

“What about this one?”

“Oh, Kotaro? Former shelter dog, the last one to be adopted before they closed down! No one else wanted to deal with his little troublesome ass, so I volunteered.”

And the smug little shit looks so proud of himself, too. Tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, tail swishing from side to side, stirring up the mess of dog hair already on the floor.

A comfortable silence settles over the two of you. The dogs are sleeping, Kotaro’s relishing in all the extra attention, and for once, the bulldog Shiro isn’t even growling at him. Eventually he finishes off his coffee, and you’re quick to take it to rinse it in the sink with your own.

“Hey, Chuuya? Can I ask you something real quick?”

He glances up from Kotaro for a split second. It’s easier to pet him from the ground rather than the counter, so he hops off and kneels down to the dog’s level. His gloves are gonna be covered in dog fur once he’s done.

“What is it?”

Another bout of silence. Your back is turned to him, still hunched over the sink, despite the mugs already drying in the rack next to it. Kotaro paws at his knee, silently begging for another round of pats.

“…You’re part of the Port Mafia, aren’t you?”

Every nerve in his body screams at him to run. No, to fight. Fight and fucking win, just as he’s always had to do. Eliminate the threat. Prove your strength.

It’s like a switch goes off in his brain. But he’s not the only one; Shiro’s head lifts off the ground at lightning speed, his lip curled to show more than just that row of bottom teeth. Kotaro stiffens as soon as Chuuya’s hand retreats, his huge eyes boring right through him.

You’re still glued to your spot at the sink, not even daring to move an inch.

The message is clear from the dogs. Touch her and you die.

He swallows the mess of cobwebs in his throat as he slowly rises to his feet. Kotaro and Shiro keep their eyes trained on him; out of the corner of his eye, he can see Pochi and Ocha stirring awake, too.

Insanely loyal dogs, aren’t they?

“…It’s alright if you are,” you spit out, still staring at the sink in front of you. “I promise I won’t tell anyone! It’s just… I’ve, ah, been wondering about it…for a few days now, and I just thought…”

The sigh he lets out sends a shiver down your spine. He’s careful as he makes his way towards you, and for some reason, Shiro lets him without taking a chunk out of his leg.

“…How’d you find out?”

He’s trying not to sound intimidating. He’s not angry, far from it actually. He knows you and your little pack of pups is no real threat to the mafia. (Although, the image of you storming HQ with a band of street dogs is strangely entertaining to him.) Sooner or later, you would have questions of your own about him. He just didn’t think it would be this soon.

But that horrible feeling from earlier is fluttering around in his chest. The same one that makes his palms slick with sweat inside his gloves, the one that sends his heart smashing against his ribcage.

Is he ashamed? Absolutely not; the mafia has always been a part of him, and it always will be until the day he dies.

Maybe the thought of you running away, too scared of what he is—and taking your little pack with you—is sending him in such a frenzy.

“I’ve…had my suspicions,” you start quietly. Slowly you turn around, keeping your back against the sink. Chuuya stands a few feet away from you, forcing his hands back into his pockets. “For a couple days, now. Maybe even more… I just wanted to be sure before I started suspecting anything…”

Dangerous? He fills in the blank with a swallow.

“…’M not gonna hurt you, ya know.”

“I know! I know… Believe it or not, I’ve had my fair share of run-ins with the mafia. This isn’t exactly a nice area of Yokohama to begin with.”

That raises the hair on the back of his neck. Who did you come across? Surely someone like Akutagawa or Tachihara couldn’t be bothered with a simple pet shop owner. A simple grunt then, perhaps? He can’t imagine why they would make themselves known to an innocent civilian like you.

Did they threaten you? Were you caught in the crossfire? Thrown in the middle of a turf war? Every possibility sends another wave of heat throughout his body.

“Honestly, it wasn’t that hard to figure out.” There’s an awkward chuckle on your end. “I only ever see you at night. You’re rich as hell, I can tell by the way you carry yourself. Only one kind of job around here could get you that kind of outfit, and all those fancy wines you like to talk about. Oh, and you kinda dress like a stereotypical mafioso, too… Not that it’s a bad thing!” you add quickly, holding up your hands. “I like it! Makes you look…good, I guess? No, not just good… Maybe handsome? Ah, I-I mean—”

You stumble over your words, burying your face in your hands when none of them come out right. That’s when Kotaro trots over to you, circling your feet before taking a seat right in front of you. Shiro stays right in his spot, eyes glued on Chuuya…but at least he’s not growling at him anymore.

Chuuya blinks. And then blinks again.

…You think he’s handsome?

He clears his throat—no time to get all distracted over a few simple words from a pretty girl. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, doll. I promise, the Port Mafia wants nothing to do with your little…pack of dogs.”

But he does.

As horrible as it sounds, he wants everything to do with you and your little family of puppies.

“It’s okay.” You wrap your arms around your midsection, finally meeting his eyes with a shaky smile. “It’s just…kind of a lot to take in… Sorry…”

No, he gets it. He could barely believe it himself, after joining the mafia years ago.

“…You ain’t scared?” he asks, despite his gut telling him to shut the fuck up already.

But you shake your head, and suddenly he finds himself frowning.

“A bit too trusting, don’t ya think?”

“Maybe.” Your smile becomes a bit stronger now. “But the dogs seem to like you, so that’s enough for me.”

His jaw nearly drops to the floor; he can feel the coffee from earlier swirling around in his stomach.

Are you fucking serious?

“I know it sounds silly, but it’s true!” You must’ve seen the look on his face; you’re starting to look a bit sheepish yourself, but you continue nonetheless. “Dogs have a great sense for this kind of thing. They can tell when a person has good or bad intentions. Pick the rotten apples from the rest of the bunch, you know? And they’re all pretty easy-going around you. So if they’re not scared of you, then I’m not either.”

Well sure, it would make sense if you were a fucking child. But placing all your trust in a bunch of dogs, no matter how loyal and protective it may be… It doesn’t sit right with him.

“You can’t be serious.”

“But I am.”

“What if I hurt you?” Even saying the words out loud make him feel sick. “You really think they would’ve warned you?”

“Yeah, they started growling at you right away, didn’t they?”

“What if it was someone else? Someone other than me?”

“I trust them. I protect them, they protect me.”

“You can’t always be sure of that, doll.”

He’s stepping closer to you, and for whatever reason Kotaro and Shiro allow him to. Until he’s face to face with you, so close you can count the row of freckles splashed across his nose.

But you’re still smiling. In fact, you look more comfortable right now in front of him than you have all night. Almost like you’ve totally forgotten about the whole Port Mafia thing.

“It all comes down to intentions. Believe it or not, they’ve saved my ass a few times before. Especially Shiro; more than once he’s kept a shady person away from me, or pulled me away from a dangerous situation. It sounds weird, but I trust them with my life. Just as they trust me with theirs.”

Words fail him in that moment; he opens his mouth, and they die right there on his tongue. On one hand, what you’re saying does make sense, but it also doesn’t, and he’s not sure which one to believe.

He knew you were close to your dogs. Treated them just as you would your own children. He just didn’t realize you put such a great amount of trust in their hands—well, paws.

Despite their smaller size and friendly natures, they did jump to your defense when they suspected you might be in danger. Shiro and Kotaro standing between you two, a protective barrier of claws and teeth, with Ocha and Pochi standing on guard.

A dog’s love for his human knows no bounds.

“Trust me, if they sensed you had any bad intentions, or wanted to hurt me in any way, they wouldn’t have let you come into the shop like you did. Kotaro wouldn’t have warmed up to you right away. Believe me when I say this, Chuuya, the pups love you.”

He grits his teeth, his gaze falling to the floor between you. “…Not the bulldog.”

Your laugh is a song to his ears, and when you reach for his gloved hand, he thinks his heart might burst right there in his chest.

“Don’t worry about Shiro. He’s stingy with everyone at first! To be honest, if he really didn’t like you, he would’ve tried to bite you the first time he saw you! But as for the rest of them? I’ve never seen them warm up to a stranger like that before. Especially Kotaro—the way he acted around you that first night… It kinda made me jealous!”

You shake your head and take his other hand in yours. His face grows warm beneath your gaze, his heartbeat echoing in his ears as you inch your face closer to his.

“If my dogs trust you, then that tells me you must be a good man.”

And suddenly, Chuuya wants nothing more than to sweep you into his arms and press a thousand kisses to your lips.

“Your secret’s safe with me. If you want to come back, you’re more than welcome to! And if you want, we can just keep it between us. No outside drama, no mentions of work—just you and me and all these dogs…if that sounds good with you.”

Chuuya doesn’t think he can smile any wider. There’s another strange feeling in his chest, so much more pleasant than the one from earlier. No more shaking hands or butterflies in his stomach; only a sweet, warm feeling that pools deep in his chest.

It reminds him of your smile, of your warmth and affection for the little family you’ve made for yourself, as he tugs you in closer with Kotaro yipping happily at your heels.

“Sounds perfect to me, doll.”

#chuuya nakahara #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x you #chuuya x y/n #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #bsd x reader #bsd fics #puppy love

132 notes · View notes

daydreamingatnight209 · 3 months

Text

I’m not sure on how I feel about this one, but I’m posting it anways 😅🤞

Feedback is welcome - Hate is not ✨💕

“My Best Friend, My Girlfriend, My Everything”

Colson Baker x Female Reader

Warnings - Slight angst, fluffy ending 💕

Prompts used: Credit goes to all original owners -

1. "How drunk are you?" "V...Very." "Drunk enough not to remember tonight? "Hmm." "Good. I love you. And I'm tired of being just your best friend."

2. "He will never know that I like him." "Why?" "Because I'm just one of the million stars, and he's the moon.

3. I can’t believe it took me all these years to realise how I truly feel about you.

4. "Wow those bloodstained clothes really bring out your eyes... Of course I'm being sarcastic! Get over here and let me stitch you up!"

—————————————————————————

Most would think that traveling with an international superstar who also happened to be your lifelong best friend, would mean hitting the jackpot in life. But realistically after a month stuck surrounded by testosterone in such close quarters with a bunch of men who often act like overgrown toddlers , you can’t help but begin to feel like a glorified babysitter. You suppose it doesn’t help that you also happen to be ridiculously in love with said best friend.

After one particular show, you found yourself back on the tour bus while the others went out to celebrate another successful show.

Just because you were Colson’s friend, didn’t mean that you didn’t have your part to play. You liked to feel useful so you took up a part time role, sharing managerial duties with Ashley. This time you found yourself working with Sam to provide visual content for the fans and ensure that Colson’s schedule was running smoothly.

When the quietness you’d been experiencing over the last couple of hours suddenly ends, You couldn’t help but internally roll your eyes. climbing out of your bunk you go to see what all the commotion was about.

You enter the main sitting space and your mouth swings open in shock. In front of you Colson’s face was caked in blood and his clothes were stained with the same substance Rook was laughing hysterically at him and Slim had a smirk on his face, which he attempts to cover when he sees the look on your face.

“What in the actual hell happened here?!” You exclaim.

“Y/N helloooooo”

Colson rushes over to try and embrace you but you hold him at arms length, not wanting to get covered in his blood.

“Look at this, how cool does this look!” He says giddily, jumping around like an overgrown puppy, trying to show the jagged cut that seems to run down his forehead.

“Oh yeah really cool, those bloodstained clothes really bring out your eyes.”

Colson looks at you with glassy eyes and a slightly confused expression on his face and a pout on this face.

“Are you being sarcastic?”

“Yes, of course I am being sarcastic! Get in there and let me stitch you up!” You shout out in frustration and worry. You leave him alone for one night and this happens!

Grabbing his hand you force yourself and his tall frame into the tiny bathroom cubicle, with the first aid kit under the sink.

Colson collapses down onto the toilet seat as you begin to clean his face.

He winces softly as you clean around the wound and begin to apply the temporary stitches.

“How did this even happen anyways?” You ask him as he fiddles with the loose threads on your jumper.

“Rook said I couldn’t do parkour over a car, so obviously I had to prove him wrong” he mumbles, the amounts of alcohol he had consumed during the night finally catching up with him.

You couldn’t help but sport a small smile on your face, because of course it was something just so stupid.

Once you were satisfied with your work, you pack away the first aid kit and attempt to pull him up but Colson just pulls you down easily onto his lap and wraps his long arms around your frame.

“You are that best person I know Y/N. I’m so lucky to have you as my friend”

How drunk are you?" You whisper as you lean against his chest.

“V...Very."

"Drunk enough not to remember tonight?” You asked curious.

Normally Colson’s memory no matter what he drinks is top tier.

"Hmm yeah, probably” he answers, resting his head on your shoulder.

At that response and the fact that you didn’t want him falling asleep in the tiniest toilet possible you stand up and grab is hand once more. He doesn’t protest when you lead him to the back of the bus to where his bedroom is.

He throws his weight into the bed and watch him crawl under the covers.

“Night Kells” you whisper and go to exit the room to head back to your own bunk.

Before you can make it through the sliding door, your best friend speaks up, his voice raspy and slightly needy.

“Stay with me?”

You hesitate at first, not really knowing If you could handle being that close to him for the entire night. Your heart was already beating twice as fast as it should, but you aren’t really great at denying Colson. You never was. So when a cracked, “please” leaves his mouth, you cave and climb under the covers with him.

It doesn’t take long for sleep to claim him but the same doesn’t happen for you. You’ve lost count of how many times you and Colson have shared a bed over the years but where he sees friendship, recently you’ve been struggling to stop the lines from blurring.

Colson wraps you up in his arms subconsciously, like he’s done so many times before, yet this time you find yourself frozen as you stare softy at his peaceful sleeping face.

“I love you Colson Baker. I love you and I'm tired of being just your best friend."

A tear escapes your eye, letting it fall, you wait for what feels forever for sleep to fall over you.

———————————————————

The next morning you are up and out of Colson’s room before he awakens and do your best to avoid him and any awkward conversations that the day might entail. You weren’t exactly to ready to find out if he remembered his night.

No one really picks up on your behaviour and you think you made it through the day perfectly, before Ashley corners you backstage at soundcheck.

“You like him don’t you? In fact it’s more than that … you are in love with him”

Knowing that you can’t hide the truth from your friend, you look her in the eye and give her a sad smile.

“He can never know that I like him."

"Why?" Ash questions you.

"Because I'm just one of million stars, and he's the moon, he deserves so much better that me”

You slightly cruse the tears that begin falling once more and do your best to wipe them without ruining your make up.

Ash gives you a soft smile and shakes her head.

“I’ve seen the say that boy looks at you. You may think he’s the moon but he looks at you like you’re the one holding his entire world. Last night should have been enough evidence! It was you he wanted to patch him up, it was you he wanted attention from and it you he wanted to hold. It’s always you. It’s not about what you can give him or what he can give you, it’s simply about the love that you share and the happiness you provide each other. He doesn’t want to be Mr international superstar with you. He just wants to be Colson, your Colson.”

After her little speech, Ashley leaves you alone as you try and process her words. But you weren’t alone for long as a voice behind you startles you.

“She’s right you know.”

You gasp and turn to fave the voice you knew all too well.

“Colson! What the hell?!”

“She’s right” he repeats.

“Right about what exactly?”

“You might think I’m the moon, but you are my whole world. You are more than just a star, so, so much more.”

“Colson…” you close your eyes, unsure on if you want to have this conversation, but realistically you knew there was no escape.

Colson stalks forward, invading your personal space and holds your chin in his fingers so that you are holding direct eye contact with each other.

“I heard you last night… your confession. I wasn’t really asleep and frankly I’m surprised I remembered this morning. In all honesty i was going to pretend until you felt ready to have the conversation but after hearing what you said to Ashley, well I couldn’t pretend anymore. I can’t believe it took me all these years to realise how I truly feel about you. I can’t believe it took stupid dare inflicted injury and a single moment in a tour bus bathroom for everything to fall into place”

With shaky hands, your fingers touched the small wound on his head and caressed it lightly.

Not trusting your voice, you whisper out a quick response, “I’m so happy it did”.

Colson takes that as cue to plant a kiss on you, a moment you felt as if you could live in forever, before he pulls away to look at you.

“I’ll love, protect and cherish you, forever. My best friend, my girlfriend, my everything.”

100 notes · View notes

on-my-vigilante-sht · 1 year

Text

Capitol Punishment XIII

Haymitch x Reader

Summary: The Capitol continues to torture it’s victors no matter how long ago they won through punishment, exploitation, and worst of all; their relationships.

A story in which Haymitch’s lover is a plaything for the Capitol.

Warnings: Canon level violence, rape, alcohol, murder, systemic poverty, exploitation, rebellion (?), more reliance on movie than book, suicidal thoughts, swearing, illness, pregnancy, miscarriage, torture, sexual torture, medical stuff

Word Count: 3.7K

Part XII | Masterlist | Part XIV

A/N There will be medical stuff explained. I’m not a doctor so just pretend it makes sense

You felt like you had woken up in a strange environment 20 times in the last day and a half and you hoped this would be the last time you woke up like this.

As your eyes peeled open you were greeted with a harsh hospital light. You could feel someone holding your hand at your side. Turning your head you found Haymitch clasping your hand, head resting on the bed as he dozed off. You felt a smile tug at your lips seeing him so peaceful. You tried to reach over to stroke his hair with your free hand but whatever the doctors had done to you wouldn’t allow that as your abdomen cramped.

You returned to your previous position flat on your back with a hiss, stirring Haymitch. Which was impressive considering how deeply he used to sleep even when it wasn’t due him blacking out. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?” he asked frantically, eyes moving around erratically searching for the cause of your pain.

“I’m fine,” you tried to calm him down. “Just a little sore from the surgery. Do you know what they did?”

“Just that they had to fix some internal bleeding. They said the doctor would be in to update us when you woke up,” he explained. He brushed some fingers through your hair. “God I’m so glad you’re okay. I know I’ll never be able to fix or make you forget what they did to you but I promise I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

“Haymitch,” you scolded slightly, “it’s not your fault. I never once blamed you for this.” You lifted your hand to stroke down the side of his face. “I love you and I know you’d never put me in danger on purpose.”

“I never should’ve let you out of my sight,” he continued anyways. “Especially when I knew what was coming.”

Before you could protest once again the doctor came in. “Mrs. Abernathy,” he interrupted. “Glad to see you’re awake.”

“Uh- yeah,” you agreed, pulling away slightly from your husband. “What happened?”

The doctor paused for a second, struggling with saying what he needed to say in a delicate way. “Well, um, your injuries were due to, what we believe to be, repetitive, violent rape and a not properly cared for miscarriage. We stitched up the source of the bleeding internally and those stitches will degrade safely within the body over time so no need to get them removed. And while the Capitol did remove the decaying cells from your miscarriage to prevent you from going into sepsis, your uterus and other vaginal structures were mostly scar tissue. I’m sorry to say that you’ll never be able to carry a pregnancy again.”

You were horrified. Horrified remembering everything you’ve faced, not just in the Capitol after the Quarter Quell but also for the years of abuse that you hadn’t realized was killing your body in more ways than you thought. You were also disappointed remembering the miscarriage you had and the news that you’d never be able to give Haymitch a family. And yet also strangely relieved?

You faintly heard him dismiss the doctor before facing you again. “Hey, Y/N? It’s okay. I know you wanted to have a baby but-” With his words you let the tears fall, sobs wracking your body.

It took you a second to be able to speak but when you could you said, “No, it’s not that. Of course I wanted to have our baby and I know it’s fucked up to say this but I’m relieved. I wasn’t able to admit it to myself until now but I couldn’t possibly have a baby in this fucked up world. Especially as we’re fighting a war that we could very well die in. Haymitch, I love you, and I would’ve loved our baby so much but I’m glad I don’t have to worry about it anymore. I’m sorry if you don’t feel the same way.”

Haymitch paused, stunned. He never knew you felt that way about your pregnancy. “Don’t worry. I’m relieved too.”

Your heart melted knowing that this man would do whatever and be whatever to make you happy. Since you still couldn’t really move, you tugged his collar, urging him to kiss you. He complied, leaning up to press his lips to yours in a deep kiss full of all of each others’ love. Your first kiss since the arena.

When Haymitch pulled away to breathe all he wanted was to crawl into bed and hold you tightly to his side like he had after your games. But the Capitol beds were much larger and you were more fragile than he had ever seen you so he opted instead to sit back down, clasping your hand once again.

A couple hours later you and Haymitch had both dozed off in the relative silence of the hospital wing of District 13. You were both startled awake by Johanna slamming the door open. “Ah, I see you two lovebirds are reunited in your perfect fucking bubble,” she sneered with a false smile.

“Ah, Johanna, nice to see you survived the games and the Capitol,” Haymitch groaned.

“Haymitch,” you scolded, rubbing your eyes. “Can you give us a second?” you asked him. He pursed his lips, reluctant to leave you again but agreed anyways, sending a look to Johanna as he exited the room. “How are you?”

She scoffed, fiddling with the IV bag she wheeled in. “How do you think?”

“Well considering you’re allowed to walk and you managed to give those doctors hell when we got back, I’m guessing not too bad.”

She chuckled at that. “All I want to do it carve the hearts out of Snow and all those Capitol bastards,” she growled. “I’m sure you feel the same. We could all hear everything as Snow let those guys-”

“Johanna,” you cut her off, not wanting to relive it.

“Sorry,” she said realizing your discomfort. “They tried to do it to me too. Again. I refused, nearly killed a guard in the process. Why didn’t you fight back while we were there? Not like they could’ve hurt you any worse.”

“When I first woke up there I had no clue where Haymitch was. No idea if he was in danger or not. Also I watched you and Peeta get dropped in your cells half dead every day. I figured *that was a better alternative to what you were going through.”

Johanna shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess it’s just us picking our poisons.”

“Have you seen Katniss? Or Annie? Or even Peeta?”

She looked surprised. “You haven’t heard?” Confused you shook your head no. “The Capitol fucked with Peeta’s brain. He’s basically terrified of Katniss and is trying to murder her. Anything about her sets him off.”

Your eyes widened. “What? They brainwashed him? Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

She shrugged. “I’ve been trying to see you since they finished all their stupid little tests. You haven’t been awake in almost a day.”

Your eyes fluttered in astonishment as you realized that you had missed out on so much information. “Okay, where’s Katniss?”

“Recovering. Peeta was about to choke her to death before Haymitch and a few other guys got him off her.”

“And Annie? Finnick?”

Johanna shrugged once again. “She and Finnick are off somewhere. She’s fine. She was hardly touched while were were in the Capitol.”

“Good,” you breathed. Annie was the only one you hadn’t been able to see since three sides of your cage had been metal. You sometimes heard her screams but they were rare and as far as you could tell the guards hardly ever went into her cell.

Johanna scoffed. “She got nothing while Peeta and I were electrocuted and beaten half to death every day.”

“Johanna,” you scolded. “It’s not her fault. Besides she’s been through enough.”

“We’ve all been through enough. You, me, Haymitch, Finnick? We all got the worst of it after our games. Katniss got out her games scot-free and so did Peeta except now he’s paying for Katniss’-”

Her words were interrupted by Katniss as she closed the door behind her. You were shocked, you hadn’t even heard her come in. “You’re alive,” was all she said. You weren’t sure it was directed towards you or Johanna.

“So are you,” she answered, exiting the room.

It was Katniss’ turn to sit at your bedside, Haymitch following after. Her throat was badly bruised and her eyes looked bloodshot. From Peeta you realized. “Katniss,” you said softly, observing the haunted look in her eyes.

“Am I the reason you and the others got captured?” she asked, looking at both you and Haymitch.

“No,” you interrupted quickly. “Us getting captured was no one’s fault. All this shit isn’t your fault, you were just trying to save Prim.”

She opened her mouth to protest by Haymitch interrupted her. “Y/N, Coin wants you to talk to Peeta.”

“Who’s Coin?” you asked.

“Oh, right. There’s a lot to catch you up on. She’s the President of 13. And since Peeta’s mind has been altered, we’re hoping your face will offer some comfort since you were in the Capitol together.”

“Okay,” you agreed, eager to help the boy too good for this world. You tried to push yourself up only for Haymitch to rush to your side, pushing you down again.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he insisted. “You’re not cleared to walk yet. Let me find a wheelchair.”

“Haymitch,” you whined, “that’s humiliating.”

“Do you want me to carry you?”

“No, because that’ll be humiliating for the both of us when you drop me,” you joked. He gave you a sour look. “Fine,” you conceded.

Haymitch left, leaving you with Katniss once again. “District 12 is gone. The Capitol bombed it after the arena went out. I just thought you should know.”

You felt your expression physically drop. Everything you had ever known was just gone? The place you grew up, as shitty as it was? The people who had tried to help you when you lost everything? Your home with Haymitch? The place you had married yourselves? Just gone. You didn’t know what to say and neither did Katniss but your processing was interrupted by Haymitch’s return. “Is District 12 gone?” you blurted out, hoping Katniss was wrong.

He stopped dead in his tracks before sighing, nodding his head. “I’m sorry, sweetie,” he tried to comfort, coming back to your side. “Do you want me to tell Coin you’re not up to talking to Peeta?”

“No,” you answered quickly. “I’m fine. I can do this.” You felt so helpless now that your home was gone, you wanted to help someone. So you reluctantly let Haymitch wheel you towards what looked like a garage door. From there a medical assistant took you around the corner to a normal door and wheeled you into the brightest and whitest room you had ever seen. Strapped down to the bed was Peeta who looked at you with broken eyes. You nearly let out a sob realizing how frail and tormented he looked. “Peeta,” you said softly.

“Y/N,” he replied in the same manner.

“How are you feeling?” you asked.

“Where are we?” he dismissed your question. “This isn’t the Capitol.”

“We’re in District 13. Turns out it’s still a real place. We were rescued.”

“My family hasn’t come to see me.”

You felt a tear prick your eye as you remembered how poorly his family treated him in the first place. After he won the games and gave them more money they could possibly hope for they still refused to move into the home he won for them in Victor’s Village. “I’m sure we can-” you turned to find the assistant to ask them to bring his family but one shake of the head from him and you knew Peeta’s family hadn’t survived the bombing. “I’m so sorry, Peeta,” you cried, trying to take his hand gently. But he pulled his fingers just out of reach.

“There was an attack on 12,” he recalled. His empty, haunted expression slowly morphed into anger. “It’s Katniss. It’s because of Katniss.”

“It wasn’t because of her,” you insisted.

“Did she tell you to say that?”

“She didn’t tell me to say anything.”

“She’s a liar, Y/N,” he insisted. “It’s a trick.”

“What you’re saying isn’t real.”

A look of realization dawned over his face. “She sent you in here to talk to me. She and Haymitch.”

“No,” you began.

“Liar!” he suddenly yelled. “They’re liars! They left us in there!” You could faintly hear Haymitch’s yell to pull you out as the assistant began dragging you out of the room. You watched in horror as Peeta thrashed around on the bed screaming that Haymitch had abandoned you in the arena.

After another day you were cleared to try walking again. Before, rather than having a catheter placed (thank god), Haymitch would just carry you to the bathroom. An easier feat now that you barely weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet. And as much as you appreciated it it was also infantilizing having to be carried to and from the bathroom by your husband.

As you swung your legs over the side of the bed you suddenly became afraid. You had been so eager to be able to walk again, wanting to regain some independence but now you were afraid to fail.

You glanced up at Haymitch who was nervously watching you. He had been reluctant when the doctor said you could try walking again, saying it was too early but you had a suspicion that he liked that you were so dependent on him for once. But you were itching for some self-worth so you slid off the bed, making hesitant contact with the floor. Once you began placing your weight on your legs you felt them shake slightly but nothing you couldn’t handle. Haymitch, however, was immediately at your side, taking our arm to hold your weight.

“Haymitch, I’m fine,” you insisted.

“I know but if you fall and tear your stitches-”

“I’m *fine,” you insisted, a sense of finality in your voice.

“Okay,” he agreed, raising his free hand in surrender. He slowly released your other hand, allowing you to settle your weight on your legs. You felt a full ache in your hips and lower torso due to inactivity and the surgery but carried on nonetheless.

After a couple minutes of walking the shaking had gone away as your body quickly recovered it’s previous strength. “See?” you said smugly to your husband and your stride became more normal.

“You know we’re on the same team, right?”

“I still win,” you replied.

Unfortunately as soon as you were well enough to walk around they started forcing you into therapy.

“So, Y/N, how are you?” the therapist, Conrad, asked you, a gentle smile on his face.

“I’m fine,” you answered shortly. You knew he was just doing his job but you didn’t need therapy. You’ve been going through the same shit over and over again for the better part of a decade and were doing fine.

“Y/N, I understand you’ve just been freed from the prison Snow put you in long before he literally put you in a cell but you should still talk about it.” You didn’t say anything, just stared at him. “The Capitol also tried other, psychological torture. Starvation, sleep deprivation, that’s all in your file but I can tell they cut off your hair too.” You felt the urge to reach for your choppy hair but didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. “Out of all the things they could do to you why do you think they chose to go after your hair?” You still refused to speak. “Y/N I can’t count this session or even end it if you don’t say anything.”

“So you’re bargaining for my compliance?” you challenged. “Just like they did with food and sleep?”

“No, I-”

“You wanna know about my hair? The Capitol guys didn’t like fucking a bag of bones that couldn’t stay awake long enough for them to make me beg them to stop as they hurt me. So they decided to continue to punish me by cutting off my hair while still keeping it long enough to keep me pretty.”

“Y/N, this is a safe space-”

“Why do you keep saying my name?” you yelled.

“To remind you that you’re human. You have worth and an identity. You’re not just your body.”

You rolled your eyes. “Trust me, I haven’t lost any self worth. I may have complied to survive and keep Haymitch alive but don’t think I let them turn me into a mindless slave.”

“Haymitch,” Conrad said, jotting a note. “Tell me about your relationship.”

“Why do we need to discuss him?”

“Because he seems to be the only thing you care about.”

“I care about other things,” you said defensively.

“But he’s the first you’ve mentioned by name that I didn’t bring up first. So tell me, what’s your relationship like in your most difficult times?”

“You wanna know what he’s like in the worst moments of my life? He was there for me. Do you think I’d be with him this long if he was an asshole?”

“Well he did mentor you and he was the only person in 12 who could possibly relate to you at the time.” You rolled your eyes, getting angry. “I think you should try to find an identity outside of your relationship.”

“I’m done. Tell the doctors to either get me a new therapist or stop sessions entirely. I’m not talking to someone who badmouths my husband.” And with that, you stormed out, heading to your and Haymitch’s dorm.

Haymitch had had his own dorm but since you were married they allowed you to have a two bunk dorm. You both had insisted that you wouldn’t need another bunk but they moved you anyways so the other bunk was just another seating area.

As you entered you found Haymitch sitting up on the bunk, reading. “Hey, how was-” But you ignored him, just climbing onto the bed, cuddling into his chest. He hummed, realizing what must’ve happened. “Hmm, that good huh?” he asked sarcastically.

You hadn’t been allowed to do much besides meet with Conrad. They had refused to get you a different counselor so you refused to be cooperative no matter how long he held you in his office.

The doctors also checked up on you frequently as rumors of invading the Capitol spread through 13. Katniss had gone out a couple times on “missions.” One of which was in 2 where she was shot. Fortunately Cinna had the foresight to make her suit one fit for combat so she was fine aside from a few bruised ribs.

When you went to visit her it was just after Johanna had. “You ever had the wind knocked out of you like that?” you asked with a chuckle.

“Never,” she admitted. “Everyone saw me just collapse like a dead body,” she groaned, covering her face.

“Well yes but everyone is eating up the ‘The Mockingjay survived a bullet’ thing.”

“You should’ve been the Mockingjay, or Johanna. Neither of you would’ve fallen.”

“Well I can believe that for Johanna but trust me, I’m not superhuman. Besides, men aren’t threatened by you once they’ve seen you naked,” you admitted.

Katniss hummed for a second, basking in the haunted look in your eye. “Well I think Haymitch is still pretty intimidated by Johanna.”

You laughed at the memory in the elevator. “Yeah well Johanna’s a little different.” You took a breath. “All those men who tried to destroy me… I just wanna put a knife through each and every one of their throats. I never let myself be angry at them because it would make the situation so much more unbearable but now… all I can picture is the life leaving them.”

“So why don’t you? You’re not the Mockingjay. Go to the Capitol with the others.”

“I’m not cleared to fight. Too many injuries. Besides Haymitch would insist of coming and he’s still getting used to being sober. He couldn’t fight.”

“I couldn’t bring Peeta out there either,” she admitted.

You stood at the edge of the dance floor, admiring Finnick and Annie’s first dance as a married couple. You were happy for them, they had been through so much it was nice to see them get their happy ending.

As the bridesmaids and groomsmen were called to the floor you reluctantly let Haymitch pull you to the dance floor along with Finnick, Annie, Katniss, Gale, and a few others. “So, you ever think about having a big wedding like this?” Haymitch asked you.

You gave him a look. “Getting married with a bunch of strangers in a bunker in the middle of a war? I much prefer our little elopement.”

Haymitch smiled. “Me too,” he said sweetly. “At least our wedding had booze.”

A/N sorry if the tone felt rushed. It’s hard to write about Mockingjay because it’s the most complicated book/movie and it focuses so heavily on Katniss and the things only Katniss can do so filling in the gaps is difficult

Part XII | Masterlist | Part XIV

#Haymitch #haymitch x reader #haymitch abernathy #haymitch abernathy x reader #THG #The Hunger Games #the hunger games x reader

302 notes · View notes

f10werfae · 2 years

Text

Sugar Baby Love

Pairing: CEO!Rich!Chris Evans x !Reader

Summary: Finally getting their relationship sorted out leads to a hot night filled with passionate lovemaking, !Dad!Chris at the end?! Major family man vibes xoxo !Fluffy smut!

Disclaimer: This story is fiction and should not be taken literally, the behaviour is simply imaginative and the content may be inappropriate

Possible continuation: Just like Daddy

Warnings: Spit play, mentions of anal, fingering, clit stimulation, obviously sex, oral, spanking (slightly), a tiny argument but that’s it

- Requests are open!

Likes, Comments and Re-blogs are appreciated♥️

Full Masterlist🌟

Chris Evans Masterlist✨

Taglist Form💫

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

(Y/n's P.O.V)

You could say Chris and I's relationship dynamic was a bit of a weird one. It all started when he saw me as an intern at his company under his assistant, if you asked me I thought he absolutely hated my guts. Then within months he had asked me to work under him, basically as his secretary, although one he would eat lunch with and sleep with? Slowly but surely it turned into a relationship where he’d spoil the crap out of me, as long as I spent personal time with him. Call it a sugar baby relationship? I’m not sure.

The help was definitely welcomed considering I was still at the ripe age of 25, and to have this 35 year old giving me a house and everything I needed? I was not one to complain about that.

With him I get what I want, when I want.

“Come on baby, tell your king what you want” He cooed, stroking my cheek with his thumb, his other hand focused on parking his car into his driveway.

“You picked me up too early from the party, I was still enjoyin myself” I pouted fiddling with the hem of my baby blue mini dress, hearing him sigh before unbuckling his seat belt. “you know the rules princess, i’m yours and you’re mine. Safe to say you were not actin like it, now were you?” He said in a knowing tone, bending over to my side, his lips inches away from mine as I shook my head no.

“And what do you have to say for yourself?” He said leaning back, flicking his wrist to fix the massive watch on his wrist, acting dismissively. “M'sorry” I murmured knowing damn well I was in the wrong, tears brimming my eyes know I had hurt his feelings. He had done so much for me and I couldn’t even respect his one wish, it was one dance with one guy I had dated before.

“I know you are baby, it’s okay I forgive ya. I know you love me dearly” He chuckled, leaning down to place a precious kiss onto my cheek, his hand caressing my thigh affectionately. “You love me yeah? Don’t you gorgeous girl?” He coaxed, nuzzling his nose against my neck, his tongue licking a strip up to my ear.

“mm I do love you Chris, I promise” I whimpered, his hands dipping up my skirt and fiddling with the thin middle section of my thong, his fingers basically playing with my folds.

“Good cause you know I love you even more hun” He breathed out, sitting upright, and while pulling his fingers out from under my skirt he pulled the elastic along with him. Letting the thong slap back onto my swollen clit, a jolt passing through my body causing him to hum deeply. “Get out of the car, and wait for me inside babe” He commanded suddenly serious, I knew what this meant.

Not questioning him I rushed out of his car and opened his front door with the spare key I had. Kneeling down I waited and within seconds a big golden fluffy dog hoisted itself into my arms, giving me kisses and licks all over my face.

“Oh Dodger boy I missed you, my tiny baby” I cooed massaging both his hears, when I heard those same dress shoes clicking on the floor behind me. Chris stood in front of me, his hand offered out for me to hold to get up. I gingerly took his hand, his fingers knitting perfectly with mine, bringing it up to his lips for a quick kiss he led us towards the staircase. Both of us waving a little goodbye to Dodger for the meantime.

“What are we doing Chrissy?” I asked quietly, lowkey freaked out by his unbroken silence as he pushed the door open and closed it with his foot. Lightly pushing me into our bedroom he took off his suit jacket, and headed straight into the bathroom where I saw him turn on the tap for the three person bathtub we had set up so we could relax together. These past 9 months, I guess you could say we got accustomed to living together, even if our relationship had no labels on it.

“Do you really wanna be with me Y/n?” He questioned facing away from me, unbuckling his belt and shimmying off his work trousers.

“Of course I do, what kinda question is that?”

“Do you see yourself with me, married” He questioned stopping his actions, his arms swinging loosely by his side.

“Yes”

I answered confidently, knowing I would never let this man go, doesn’t matter how hard he tries to shrug me off. He is mine and I am his.

“Ok good, because I can only see myself marrying you. I love you” I heard him say, his voice now shakier than before.

“Ya promise?” I teased, copying his words from earlier, watching as he turned around and told me off with the raise of an eyebrow instantly making me shut up.

“You wanna join me for a bath?” He quirked, his hands already pulling up the hem of my dress over my head, not even waiting to know my answer because he already knew it as a yes.

Letting me undo his tie and unbutton his shirt, we walked towards the bathroom with him getting in first so I could lay against him. “Do you actually love me?” I asked, my head against the sound of his beating heart, awaiting his answer I softly stroked his happy trail down his stomach which slowly led to under the water.

“At the start of us, I didn’t know what we were but I never expected any of this. No doubt I was convinced i’d be confined to just sexual relationships for life, but you changed it Y/n. I fell so hard within the first few weeks, that these past 8 months have been complete torture not being able to officially call you mine. I know you don’t want me for money, you treat me like a human being, you love and care for me even when you don’t need to” He said softly, his finger absentmindedly trailing up and down my arm slowly.

“What about you, do ya actually love this old man?” He joked.

“Shut up you’re not old. I am in love with you Chris Evans and even if I wanted to stop loving you, my heart wouldn’t allow it. It belongs to you now, so don’t you dare break it” I threatened feeling his chuckle vibrate through his chest beneath me.

“I wouldn’t even dream of it sweet girl” He said now a whisper, our comfortable silence accompanied by the sound of the water breaking.

His hand went under the water, shadowing around the area of my thighs before I felt his finger on my clit. Rubbing slow circles, I felt him leave hot open mouthed kisses onto my shoulder, small mewls leaving my mouth the harsher he went.

“You sound so cute princess, all for me to see and hear yeah?”

Nodding my head slowly I felt his fingers separate my folds and spreading them apart, one of his fingers now entering my wet cavern. His palm now taking over the duty of stimulating my red swollen clit, my body jerking under the water as he held me flushed against his body.

“Jus relax doll, i’m here to take care of ya, all jus for you” His voice sounding sexy as hell, he thrusted his fingers in and out of my hole rapidly, his palm wasting no time at rubbing my clit with no abandon.

“Chris baby, I-I think i’m gonna”

“Let loose baby, let it all out for me baby” He whispered right against the shell of my ear, his teeth gritted together as he went even faster on my lower half, screams erupting me as I came

“f-f- FUCK” I exclaimed feeling my legs shake and go numb after that orgasm, Chris' fingers now giving my clit slow circles to let me ride out my high. “You did so good for me baby” He cooed his arms now wrapped around my torso holding me up against his wet body. Tilting my head to the side his lips melted onto mine, his fingers now teasing my hardened nipples.

“Let’s get into some clothes babe” He whispered parting from my lips, picking me up with him and out of the bath.

(In the Bedroom)

I watched as Chris got settled into bed in his birthday suit, something we did after some hot steamy sex, he always claimed he wanted to feel me even closer. Not feeling satisfied enough after tonight I was at the foot of the bed and decided to dive under the blanket and crawl up towards him.

“What are you doing you little minx” He laughed peeking at me from above the blanket, watching closely as I took his cock in my hands and spit on it. Giving his red bulbous head a passionate kiss before taking him whole in my mouth. Feeling each of his veins under my tongue as I took him as deep as I could, his arms flipping the blanket, down putting us both out in the open.

“Fahk I love your mouth babe, making your man feel all good, you love doin that dont ya?” He growled grabbing my hair into a makeshift pony as I moaned on his cock as a reply to his statement. Pulling away from his cock I took his balls into my mouth, jerking his cock off with my hand as I licked and kissed them. His mouth sending out deep breaths and curses as if they were money bills.

“Fuck baby you still want that Birkin bag? I’ll get you whatever the fuck you want after this”

Feeling his cock twitch in my hands, I immediately sat up to squat over his cock, his hands going to hold onto my ass cheeks. Both of us moaning out when I lowered myself onto his cock, his balls bottoming out into me, his pubic hair scratching onto my sensitive clit.

“Go on babe, bounce on my cock like you always do, like the slut you are” He moaned out gripping onto my hips to help me move at a steady rhythm, his head moving up to suckle onto one of my nipples. His tongue moving rapidly around the sensitive bud as I bounced helplessly up and down.

“Fuck baby, I love your dick” I moaned out uncontrollably, with both the stimulation on my clit and nipples I felt pure ecstasy rippling through my body, spanks being sent consistently to my ass.

“Baby you’re so sexy God I can’t believe you’re all mine”

“Well you best believe it babe, cause this is all yours to have whenever you want” I moaned out again, squealing when I felt him turn me over so I was now underneath him. This man’s strength is unbelievable. Not even giving me a second to breathe he started pummel driving his cock into me, his head dipping down

“Stick out your fucking tongue” Looking at him confused I stuck out my tongue shyly, watching his eyes cloud with lust. He took my tongue into his mouth sucking on it wildly, his spit dribbled into my mouth due to his assault on my tongue.

“God you taste divine, now play with your wet clit while I fuck you” He growled, my hand going onto my clit rubbing in different directions, my swollen pussy burning in the best way possible.

His balls slapping my ass every time he thrusted into me. “Maybe I should play with your ass next time, you’d love that wouldn’t you?” He teased as I nodded, his finger rubbing over my asshole before returning back to my clit.

“Look at this baby, this is all ours” He said grabbing my chin to make me look down, a string of cum connecting both of our centres where we meet, due to how wet we had both gotten. “You’re so dirty Chris” I whimpered out, his hand holding onto my wrist to circle my clit faster, my teeth biting hard into my bottom lip.

“Want me to spit on you babe? like the whore you are, wan' me to make you all nice n' wet?”

“Mhm yes please” I whimpered out, nodding enthusiastically as I held my tongue out once again, his spit flying into my mouth and lips. Bringing his head down he pushed his tongue into my mouth and explored my mouth rapidly. His tongue darting along with mine trying to taste every inch of me,

“I love you so much” He moaned out into the kiss interlacing our hands together by my head, his cum spilling into me as I came with him. My legs buckling around his waist as I pulled him closer to me, his face hidden in my neck, both of us breathing deeply.

“I love you too babe, so much” I whispered bringing him for one last kiss, before he turned to the side and brought me up against him.

“That was amazing Chrissy” I whispered looking up to see his flushed red face, his eyes closed.

“You okay hun?” I asked sitting up to check on him,

“i’m doing amazingly baby, with you by my side. Jus never let me go please” He whispered his face leaning against mine,

“I would never Chris. Never”

(5 Years later)

(Chris' P.O.V)

“Papa can I ask you something?” I heard my four year old ask shyly, her pink unicorn pyjamas still dragging over body because they were too bit. But hey she wanted them.

“Mhm what is it sweet-pea” I asked bringing her onto my lap, closing my work laptop and letting her cuddle into my chest.

“Can I have money?” She asked chirpily, her ponytail bouncing away crazily, her big blue eyes she got from me looking absolutely adorable.

“Money for what?”

“Me n mama wanna go buy toys for Zizi” She replied cutely, talking about herself in third person, Zizi was short for Zamira a beautiful name we had found out about while on vacation that just stuck with us.

“Yeah you tell him baby” I heard my lovely wife say walking into the room, her beautiful silk robe clad body immediately catching my attention this early in the morning. She immediately took residence on my lap as she took Zamira into her arms.

“What typa toys you gonna get baby?”

“uhh Unicorns n barbies n mama wants a bubkin”

“that was our secret zizi!” Y/n said shushing Zamira jokingly, watching as Zamira gasped covering her mouth cutely. “Well if you wanted a birkin gorgeous , all you had to do was ask” I said hugging them both close to my body, placing a quick but passionate kiss onto my wife’s head, smiling as I felt her body relax into me.

“Okay here y’all go now shoo” I said giving her a batch of hundred dollar bills from my wallet, before I felt Zizi run off with my wallet

“GO ZIZI GET IN THE CAR, WE'LL GET CHANGED IN THERE” I heard Y/n shout running behind Zamira with my money in tow, Zizi running as fast as her little feet would take her, “IM GOING MAMA”

“AT LEAST BUY ME SUMTHIN BABE”

“I GOTCHU BABE” I heard her shout already walking out the front door, making me shake my head while smiling to myself. This is my dream.

————

Taglist Tags (Form is up there^^): @mrspeacem1nusone @thereisa8ella @seren-a-ity @patzammit @pandaxnienke

#romance #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans oneshot

1K notes · View notes

fishbowlmysterioo · 1 year

Text

Bali, Baby! Pt. 1 - Satoru/Suguru/Reader

credit for this incredible image here!

pairings: past!satoru x reader, suguru x reader, past!satoru x suguru

warning: overstimulation, edging, cheating (?), vaginal fingering, it's not really a warning but everyone is queer bc I'm queer and that's how it is

summary: your ridiculous ex has decided to drag you to vacation plans the two of you made in the past. what could possibly go wrong? well actually, just about everything now that you’ve hooked up with both your and Satoru's best friend Suguru the night before you leave for vacation. so what ELSE could possibly go wrong?

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48025003

“Two weeks?”

“Two weeks, Sugu, two fucking weeks!”

“And your flight leaves tomorrow?”

“And my flight leaves TOMORROW!”

Suguru’s in the middle of retying his hair when you suddenly shout, startling both him and the other guests here. The framed scribbles and crookedly hung paintings covering the walls make the small coffee shop you’re currently in seem that much smaller. It also kindly reminds you that they’re doing little to contain your outburst.

You hear the slightest chuckle from Suguru as you look around the shop and take in the sight of forgettable and slightly annoyed faces glancing at you. As you raise your hand and nod awkwardly in some sort of apology at the frowning face, Suguru’s chuckles turn into full on laughter. Of course when your annoyed eyes meet his humored honeyed ones, he manages to seal his lips almost immediately into an amused yet quiet smile.

With the amount of stress you’ve been under lately, it’s no surprise that it’s dribbling out of you at the seams. The strenuous months, the neverending weeks, the exhausting days, came to a point meeting with one of your pickier clients. It was a meeting — an official integration signing — that you’d been working on for the better part of a year now and somehow, someway, you woke up late.

As you were running late, clamoring onto the subway and fighting with a very orny elderly man, some random interns — now former interns — had deleted entire files that were in the middle of being backed up by IT. Files that pertained the client’s history, previous sales, all important information that impacted their place in the business. On top of running late, on top of fighting with the elderly, on top of important information disappearing into the ether, you also spilled coffee all over your favorite blouse. A large stain that definitely wouldn’t be coming out any time soon.

In short, today was a nightmare.

And yet all of those events, all of those little disasters, couldn’t even begin to equate to what made today a day for the books. When you’d finally arrived at your office with your assistant not too far behind, Gojo Satoru was in the middle of your room with a mischievous grin you knew all too well. He was sitting on the edge of your desk, arms folded and legs spread wide. He’d ignored the coffee stain on your blouse, ignored the exhaustion in your eyes, and ignored your demanding of why he was here as he exclaimed, ”We’re going to Bora Bora, baby!”

It turns out the location is actually Bali, not Bora Bora, but the blinding light of Satoru’s excitement could not be dimmed by your correction and obvious annoyance.

By now, the end of your workday, the series of small and big disasters have filled your mind. It feels weighted there as if your brain is wriggling under the weight of your responsibilities. But the longer you stay here, the longer you listen to Suguru laugh at your expense, the weight begins slowly and steadily lifting. With all of the stress from the previous months, weeks, days, you need to rant and rave more than ever. You need to rant and rave specifically to someone that knows Gojo Satoru inside and out.

The annoying white-haired man had a way of getting under your skin that no one else could even come close to accomplishing. It’s not that you’re patient or impatient. You think you have an...average amount of patience that a person should have. There’s just something about Satoru that annoyed you more than the average person. His nonchalant way of talking, his uncaring attitude, something that made the flippant comments he made that much more irritating.

While people who didn’t know Satoru personally and only ever heard second-hand accounts insisted on you just ignoring him or cutting him off, you knew deep down that the idiot has good intentions. Afterall, you’ve known him better than anyone. He used to be a lot worse in high school.

So the desire to complain about Satoru led you to someone who knows the two of you very well. Someone like Suguru who is just as kind and patient as Satoru is childish and impatient.

The sigh you finally let out is a long steady gust of air that never seems to end. When it finally does, Suguru speaks up softly. “Hey, maybe it’s a good thing. When was the last time you actually took a vacation?”

Large fingers coax and eventually pry at your small ones to loosen their vicious grip around your mug. As you release the thin ceramic and allow those fingers to stroke along the lengths of your hand, you think about the question.

It has been a while.

With adult life eating away at your sanity, you barely had any time for yourself now. Never mind time for your best friends and other close relationships. With how packed your schedule usually is, by the time you did have a break you couldn’t manage much more than keeping to yourself for the day. You were always too tired to hang out with co-workers or long-time friends; always too tired to entertain or be entertained by dates; always... too tired.

The small blips of time you found between meetings and fancy events was spent rotting away in your bed while watching increasingly bizarre youtube videos in a neverending rabbit hole. This cycle was only broken if Satoru and Suguru managed to call as many times as was necessary to get you to answer the phone. Then the two of them would come over and crawl into bed with you, forcing you to get dressed and go outside or offering to rot away with you depending on just how bad their day was.

Regardless of how busy they were in their own lives, Satoru and Suguru always seemed to have enough time for you when you were free. Even if Satoru had to break away to make important phone calls while the three of you were shopping or Suguru had to hold his phone over your head in bed and quickly answer emails between movie popcorn breaks. Of course, you tried to put in the same amount of effort, but they always insisted that you take your time.

Suguru especially would tell you to come to them when you had the time and energy to be there, without any sort of stress or worry.

The problem is you’re always stressed or worried.

Finally, you offer a thoughtful,”Yeah, I guess it’s been a while.”

As you stare into the steaming beige liquid in your mug, you realize that Satoru’s random offer couldn’t have come at a better time. All of the stress weighing you down could wash away in an instant under the warm Bali sun and in the cerulean waters lapping at white sand. Everything you could ever need to reset your perspective and purpose in life could be there.

I t’s the perfect time, the perfect place, and the perfect getaway.

“But it’s so last minute,” you try anyway, even though your mind is somewhat decided,”there are so many things I have to handle at work. I can’t just leave for two weeks.”

Suguru’s thumb glides to the smooth skin of you palm, soothing the creases that have begun to unknowingly form on your forehead. Some of that tension that always seems to linger in your body, in unseen crevices that you can’t reach or see, releases into the air.

Suguru counters your doubt, your pessimism, immediately as he says firmly,”You have an incredibly capable assistant in Nobara. She can easily rearrange any meetings you have coming up. Your team is very skilled too and fully capable of handling your accounts for two weeks. Have a little more faith in them.”

You’ve shaped your team so carefully and diligently over the years that even if you spontaneously blew up they’d be able to at least survive without you. Maybe Nobara, Inumaki, Panda (a strange nickname that stuck within the department), and others would have to ride your coatails and study old notes stashed away in your office, but they’d make it for at least a year before the higher ups noticed.

As much as you hate it, Suguru’s words along with the loud and firm voice in the back of your head are starting to make a lot of sense. The idea of a vacation, of stiff colorful drinks and sun-heated skin, become more and more appealing with each stroke of Suguru’s thumb.

This form of encouragement is a lot more meaningful and maybe even slightly more dangerous than Satoru’s loud and irritating, ”Just take off! Who cares?”

With a roll of your eyes, you groan,”Fine, you got me there.” The slight admission has Suguru’s smile widening. Away from work, away from stupid meetings, away from the city for a couple of weeks. It’s nearly perfect.

But then it hits you. The reason for the added irritation today, the reason for the additional stress that’s been piled onto your shoulders, hits you like a freight train.

Gojo Satoru.

Two years ago, you and Satoru had gotten absolutely wasted. You don’t really remember how exactly the vacation was booked but after being chided by Satoru in your office some of the details had been filled in.

“So, we were both drunk.”

“Okay.”

“And you kept complaining about how you wanted to get away from everyone except me and be entirely alone.”

“I mean...sure okay. That sounds like me.”

“And you were sitting in your favorite chair so you were especially relaxed. Remember?”

Your mind flashes to a warm lighting in the impossibly large bedroom within Satoru’s loft. Your mind also reminds you of the fullness you felt between the hazy waves of too much wine and dizzying horiness. A large pale hand on your stomach, cupping the slight bulge in your tummy, and the feeling of Satoru’s broad chest against your back as you stared at the small phone screen.

“Maybe you were too busy cumming to reme—”

“Satoru!”

Nobara had shifted awkwardly at the comment, clearing her throat to remind Satoru that she was indeed still in the room.

“Anyway,” he grinned mischeviously,”I told you to pick anywhere in the world and I’d make Nanami book it. You picked Bali and we found the Ryomen Resort.”

“Because I wanted that special suite with the pretty tub.”

“Right and we made it for two years out because...?”

“That was the only time it was available.”

After the two of you broke up, your dream trip had been forgotten about entirely until now. At least for you anyway.

While Satoru claims he forgot to tell Nanami to cancel the reservations after the “disagreement” happened, he also claimed that he couldn’t cancel them now because they were paid in full; also something about being unable to change the name on the suite. It isn’t hard to believe that you don’t believe him in the slightest.

It’s not that he has a tendency to lie or deceive, but the resistance behind not wanting to cancel didn’t make sense. Despite the ever-present silver spoon in his mouth, Satoru grew up with and developed impeccable organizational and management skills that were required to run his family’s conglomerate.

There’s no way that he would forget to cancel it and even if he somehow did, there was absolutely no way Nanami would forget. He was Satoru’s personal assistant for a reason.

And even if they somehow both forgot, Gojo Satoru is disgustingly rich. He wouldn’t care about having to pay some stupid cancellation fee or just kissing the whole trip goodbye altogether. In fact, you have the ridiculous Ballon Bleu de Cartier “I’m sorry for killing your Monstera, Charlie, while you were away” watch and the “I totally didn’t mean to stand you up and then ask what are your plans for tonight I didn’t see your calls!” day trip to Paris to prove it.

So why would Satoru suddenly care about spending money now?

The whole thing reeks of ulterior motives and classic Gojo Satoru schemes.

“But it’s Bali,” you insist, trying and failing to keep the whiny-twinge away,”with Satoru. I’m worried he’ll get the wrong idea.”

Suguru’s thumb stops its journey across your palm and sits heavily on your hand. When you look up at him, you swear you can see a flash of...something. It’s a sort of glint in his eye that disappears as soon as your gaze focuses completely on his.

“How long has it been again,” he asks, feigning ignorance,”a year?”

For a moment you genuinely think that Suguru doesn’t remember the year the two of his best friends barely spoke or saw each other without causing a scene. It was a disastrous year for you, but it was you . Suguru had his own life and friends outside of the drama between you and Satoru. But the way his honeyed brown eyes avoid yours, gives you answers you need.

Suguru does remember.

He remembers every moment of that year.

Your breakup was immature and stupid.

It resulted in public fights that had the two of you storming off in different directions whenever you tried to talk it out. It resulted in angry phone calls and blocking and unblocking phone numbers. It resulted in obnoxious social media posts with blurred girls and boys in exotic places that were everything you weren’t.

Satoru is immature. He’s always been and probably always will be. Although you know he’s immature and that everything he says should be taken with a grain of salt, Satoru also knows how to get under your skin. He knows how to drag you down in the muck to his level and make you just as angry, just as spiteful, as him.

You, on the otherhand, are mature enough to admit that you were also immature.

It was as if seeing you go through life through retellings of coffee dates with Suguru, through prominent articles that his colleagues spoke of with your name written in neat letters at the bottom, and through social media posts from friendly gatherings and rooftop parties that Satoru was pointedly not inviting to; all of these things had somehow convinced him that you weren’t mourning the death of your relationship alongside him.

The years of knowing each other inside and out made every fight, spat, and pointed post that much more painful. By the middle of it, even Suguru didn’t want to deal with either of you. He would avoid hanging out with either of you so he didn’t hear complaints. Although you can’t really confirm it, you’re also pretty sure that he left the country to go on tour and meet with clients; right after he said he needed space.

The whole thing was messy, messier than you’d like to admit.

But recently the two of you have started working on healing your relationship and trying to make everything better a little bit at a time. No, it would never go back to the way it is, but maybe it could be close.

Finally Suguru releases your hand altogether to take a sip from his own mug. The steam is gone now, leaving behind a rapidly cooling drink. He breathes his next question in the mug as if to hide it,”You think he’s been carrying a torch this entire time?”

All you can do is shrug and try to ignore the way your stomach flips and whirls at the stupid impossible not-true idea,”I dunno. It’s Satoru. You can never tell what he’s thinking.”

Your best friend hums and allows his gaze to drift towards the large window beside the two of you. He watches a city in motion, noting cars honking at each other in packed lanes and people huddled together on the sidewalk while others speed off to their destinations. His eyes flit up to the large skyscrapers watching over the flow of life in a city at dusk.

Sugaru takes another long sip before saying,”I’m pretty sure he has a girlfriend now. If that makes you feel a little less awkward about the whole thing.”

The whirling and swirling of your stomach sinks just as rapidly as it began.

“You know how he is,” he continues, setting the mug down and tilting his head slightly.

Satoru isn’t a player by any means, but he also isn’t that fond of relationships. He’s too work-focused to cultivate a serious relationship with anyone that isn’t just “let’s meet up at this time and get our rocks off”. As kind as he can be when he wants to be, Satoru always ends up jumping from one gorgeous person to the next with only desire and the urge to forget about work fueling his every move.

The second it gets difficult, the second those midnight calls start turning into mid-afternoon calls, Satoru cuts it off.

“All too well,” you hum, taking a bite of the lonely croissant planted on the table in front of you. But even though he tries to keep things casual, Suguru did just use the word “girlfriend”. The idea wasn’t foreign. Satoru has had partners before, but once they demanded more of his time things tended to fall apart. But again...the word “girlfriend” was just used by his best friend.

“Well,” Suguru starts, mischief and exciting lighting up his brown eyes,”Do you wanna see her?”

“Oh,” you grin as you begin rubbing your hands together,”You know I do.” The laugh Suguru lets out this time is melodic and calming, a cool salve on your frying nerves. He whips out his phone quickly and taps away at his phone with a light smile on his face.

As you wait for the evidence, you take the time to take another bite. Wiping off any stray crumbs on your face, you look about the small coffee shop in awe. It’s a hole in the wall that’s been a constant throughout all of your upbringings. The furniture has changed slightly throughout the years, along with pastry options and professional framed scribblings on the walls, but it’s remained mostly the same.

After school, the three of you would come here to grab coffee and loiter in a specific corner with a large blue-cushioned booth. You’re still not sure how it always remained open and available every day after school for all those years, but now you’re sure Yaga had something to do with it.

The three of you would pretend to do homework and listen to Satoru make ridiculous jokes and bribe you into doing his assignments. If it weren’t for Yaga owning the place, you all definitely would’ve been banned by now with the incredible way that Satoru’s voice carried throughout the small space. It’s a comfort being here and, now that you’re older, a privilege.

“Think I got it,” Suguru mutters before flipping the phone to face you.

When you take in the image on the small cracked screen in front of you, you’re actually a little shocked. Satoru doesn’t really post his partners and playthings. Sometimes there are snapshots of them in the background of his pictures, quick clips of their faces that you can’t really see. The clips could be one of his numerous friends or someone passing by in the background, nothing distinct to show that he was with them.

The vague nature of these posts is what Satoru prefers. At least that's what you initially thought.

The potential partner is a lot lovelier than the others. In this picture their eyes are wide and their smile bright as they pose with Satoru’s arm firmly around them. Their bright blue hair is striking against the pale nature of their features, asymmetrical bangs pinned back with multi-colored clips. It looks like they’d just finished up a game of bowling.

A slight tap of your finger reveals a grey tab hanging on the blue-haired wonder’s clip that reads “Miwaaah”.

The last time he’d posted clear pictures like this was when the two of you were together. You remember the hearts within captions and the very noticeable different in likes between Satoru’s selfies and pictures with you. You also remember the day he deleted all of those photos.

Suguru lies the phone on the table then so the two of you can continue tapping through pictures and profiles. A few more pictures of Satoru and Miwa in different places appear on his page. Oddly enough, the two of them seem very happy together.

Well it shouldn’t be odd, should it?

The prospect of Satoru being happy and restored from all of the drama should make you happy, but it leaves you feeling weird instead. Rather than focus on the weird, the odd thoughts that begin to circle overhead before feasting on your brain, you focus on the confusion.

If Satoru had someone, why didn’t he just take Miwa to Bali? He’d probably gladly pay whatever fee came with changing the reservations so why didn’t he just change it and take them?

“If Satoru is dating her then clearly—”

“Them.”

“What?”

“If Satoru is dating them. Their pronouns are in their bio.”

“Oh. If Satoru is dating them then he’ll probably leave you alone. Maybe he’ll annoy the fuck out of you,” Suguru pauses briefly to relish in your small laugh,”but he knows when to quit. Clearly he’s preoccupied now anyway.”

As much as you want to believe that, you also know for a fact that Satoru has never learned when to quit. He never knew when to stop what he was doing or saying and simply listen to what someone else was trying to tell him. His habit led to many fights and situations where, if he had just listened, it would’ve ended okay. Even if Satoru didn’t try anything romantically, that wouldn’t stop him from bringing up old fights or bothering you on purpose.

A part of you knows this and even still, the idea of vacation is incredibly tempting. And hey, maybe you’re thinking of the old Satoru. The old Satoru wouldn’t have insisted on trying to get the coffee stain out of your blouse this morning instead of insisting on buying you another one. The old Satoru wouldn’t have even bothered coming to your office to invite you on this vacation to begin with. You find yourself nodding, more to yourself than Suguru, and leave it at that. Clearly there wouldn’t be any mixed signals or awkward moments because your ex has moved onto someone else.

______________

Suguru can safely say it’s almost like old times.

Almost.

The two of you talk about anything and everything, weaving between stupid co-workers, opinions on the latest trends, and drama with your other friends. He forgot how easy it is with you. Years of honesty, trust, and patience have led to smooth waters with the slightest of ripples.

In that simplicity, Suguru doesn’t have to think when he speaks. His words flow freely through him along with phrases and secrets that only make sense to the two of you. Well, the three of you.

The comfort that comes with being around you has been something Suguru has unknowingly been craving as of late. He’s so relaxed, so enchanted by your presence, that he almost forgets why you demanded to see him in the first place. As you spoke animatedly about a series you were watching, he feels the telltale signs of ominous churning in his stomach at the thought of why he’d been summoned today specifically.

Your relationship with Satoru would always be a small pebble rolling around a securely tied sneaker. While there were times where it didn’t bother him so much, there were also times where the discomfort couldn’t be ignored. It was an occasional annoyance that prodded at one’s flesh when they least expected it before rolling around the crevices of the encased fabric. Somehow that occasional annoyance that grew and shrunk went unexplained.

When you and Satoru were together, Suguru managed to spend some time with the both of you. He was still included in group hang outs, still received numerous texts in your shared group chat, but the energy was different. Satoru was yours and you were his. There was no hiding behind potentially exaggerated gestures or intent behind words.

Your relationship was there, clear as day, in every kiss and touch that the two of you shared. Suguru was obviously, and sometimes painful, on the outside looking in. In all of your years of friendship, this relationship between the two of you was something that couldn’t be shared. During that period in time, the cuddles between the three of you weren’t the same. The energy had shifted in a way that left Suguru on the outside, alone in a way he’s never felt since knowing the two of you. The loneliness, the absence he felt, was too much.

So he distanced himself in the only way he knew how.

Suguru focused on his career as a tattoo artist to ignore the hollow feeling of loneliness he felt. He’d already had a bit of a cult following of loyal fans and other artists who admired his work, but it was then that he decided to get serious. He used this excuse of wanting to expand to you and Satoru, to his other friends that questioned why he’d been so down lately, and to himself, that he had seeds to plant in order to go further in his career. To make a longstanding name for himself. Suguru is brave enough to admit now that he needed the distraction, but he’s not exactly sure why he needed the distraction.

He still had plenty of friends other than you two. He knew logically that you both loved him as much as best friends could love each other.

So why had he been so upset?

And why do those feelings linger even now?

Time slips through his fingers faster than he’d like. By the time the two of you finish up at the coffee shop, waving Yaga goodbye and turning out onto the street to head home separately, Suguru realizes that he doesn’t want this to end. He doesn’t understand why he has this random desire to suddenly stay with you as much as he can. He wants to make you laugh more, see you smile more, and see you relax more.

After only a couple of hours of being together, Suguru can already see the way you’ve relaxed while talking to him. He can already hear the tension seeping out of your voice as you talk more.

It’s been so long since the two of you broke up that Suguru got to spend time with the old you. The old you before dating and breaking up with Satoru. Before all the fighting and the drama, before Suguru cowardly ran away from whatever he’d been feeling; is still feeling.

He almost feels selfish for asking, but when you turn to part with him on the corner of Parker street, he finds himself pushing out a hurried,”Have you packed yet?”

It’s a dumb question.

You’d just been telling him about how exhausting work and this entire day was, but Suguru wants to hold onto this moment with you. This strange moment where he has this need, this want, to see you right now more than ever.

“I haven’t,” you say thoughtful, and he’s thankful there isn’t a hint of annoyance,”fuck, I need to run to the store and grab so much stuff.”

“I can come with you,” he offers, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweats,”need something to do anyway.”

Despite the laid-back appearance he’s trying to project over the desperation, Suguru’s heart aches a little when you look up at him with a soft smile,”Really?”

He’s pretty sure he has flash art to set up on his socials for an upcoming charity event. He knows he has clients that he needs to follow up with to confirm overseas sessions. Suguru has plenty of other things to do for his brand that are currently being put on hold, but somehow he’d rather watch you pick out clothes than do any of those things.

Suguru nods with a smile and lets you wrap your arm around his to turn in the direction of...whatever store you want to go to. The two of you begin your leisurely walk, your voice takes on a knowing tone as you say,”You actually have plenty to do.”

He lets the statement sit in the air. He won’t liet to you and deny that he doesn’t have a lot to do. It’s the truth and both of you know it. “Actually what is your flash for this month?” you ask again, nudging him. Maybe you think that the innocent pondering will help him get the most out of his time. Although he appreciates the gesture, Suguru doesn’t want to be bogged down with talks of work right now. So he shushes you before you can ask anymore questions. “If I’m coming with you,” he says calmly, peering down at you with pointed amused eyes,”we can’t talk about work.”

“Fiiiiine!”

__________________

An average Wednesday evening has left your favorite department store mostly empty. Despite the occasional droves of people wandering the aisles, the immense size of the store is nearly overwhelming. The endless variety of items in different shapes and sizes makes it almost impossible to actually find what you need. Maybe that’s why you like it so much, it allows you to pick up random things that you had no intention of buying.

Just like old times, Suguru slowly strolls through aisles with a cart between two calloused fingers and watches your dart between sections to grab accessories, clothes, and shoes. On the way over here, you’d insisted that you only needed necessities. In reality, your cart quickly fills with items that weren’t even on the small list you insisted on going over with him just outside of the store.

Somehow everything currently in the cart is a “necessity”.

Black platform shoes that you didn’t even really explain the reason for. Not that you need to. Dresses with unique colors and interesting designs that you looked skeptical of. Brightly lit Hawaiian shirts with eerie patterns of cowboy raccoons in various duels. You even managed to toss in several snacks that you might need on the trip to hold you over.

Even though Suguru knows that those platform shoes will be tossed aside after three whiskey sours. Even though he knows that the linen pants you’ve picked out will look fantastic, but you’ll definitely be annoyed by the feeling of the fabric rubbing together. Even though he doesn’t mention that those snacks are won’t last you through the first few days or your vacation. Suguru enjoys this moment and everything that comes with it; including listening to you provide the pros and cons of buying a new tiny backpack that you definitely don’t need.

Just like old times you grabbed more clothes and held them up to your frame before asking,”Do you like this on me?”

And, as always, before he could really respond or even form an opinion, you would toss it into the cart. “We’ll just see later. I’m almost done.” A statement you’d always mumble before rushing off to the next aisle.

Eventually, once the cart was nearly overflowing, the two of you made your way to the fitting rooms tucked into the very corner of the store. Suguru now sits on one of the hard plastic benches just outside of the row of stalls as he waits. The cart full of your potential things sits right next to your stall, surrounded by rejected clothing waiting patiently to be returned to their respective homes. With how slow the store currently is, the fitting room is empty. The only sounds hovering around the fitting room are the occasional rustling of clothes you’re take on and off and an old pop song from several years ago bumping through faded and even older speakers.

As his fingers tap away at his touch keyboard, Suguru thinks over the client’s request he’s currently reading. As his fingers tap away at his touch keyboard, Suguru thinks over the client’s request he’s currently reading. A hyperrealistic version of La Danse by Carpeaux spread across the entirety of their back with no detail spared. It would be possible but with its immense size and the amount of shading it would need, it’d be well over a few days. Although it would take an obnoxious amount of time, the overall pay with tip included would be fantastic; nevermind the clout of completing such a piece of art.

But Suguru would have to be in the studio all day, potentially sleeping in the small room in the back just to save time on commuting; he would also have to squish this appointment between his regulars and the occasional walk-in. It’d be a hassle, but the work alone would be worth it.

As Suguru mulls over the details and starts to tap through his calendar to find availability, he hears the curtain rustle with a finality. When he looks up, you’re there and posing in a small romper. The fit of the romper pushes your chest slightly and cups your ass in a way anyone would be stupid and just wrong to deny is attractive. It’s divine and takes everything in him not to bark at the sight of it.

“Wow,” is all he offers as he waits for you to say something. Regardless of how good it looks on you, you’re probably gonna say that you hate it— “I hate it.”

“Why?” he asks, leaning back against the wall behind him and slipping his phone into his lap,”It looks great on you.”

You’ve always had a great body. Your curvy frame has been admired by many people, himself included, openly and in secret whe you thought they weren’t looking. For some reason though, you’re always so picky with your clothes. Even though everything looked great and continues to look great on you, you still have trouble with shopping overall.

Suguru isn’t entirely sure where it comes from, but he tries to acknowledge the existence of your insecurities and emphasizes what he and the entire world sees. Beauty. You turn around for him and vaguely gesture behind yourself in exasperation. “Look at the back,” you insist,” it’s too tight.”

The pale green open legs of the romper fold just underneath the curve of your ass, accenting its plumpness. There isn’t any added padding or any false advertising to assist your rear. The thin romper only gloriously emphasizes what you naturally have on display.

...Oh and the back was slightly open or something, Suguru isn’t entirely sure.

But can anyone really blame him? He’s currently too lost in trying to form words in his empty head.

Suguru is one of your best friends. He cares about you and wants you to feel as comfortable and happy as possible in whatever you’re wearing, but the sight alone of your twirling and posing in different directions slowly weakens his resolve. You arch and twist as you probably eye the mirror in your stall and it takes everything in him not to keep babbling about how hot you are.

“I can’t tell,” you suddenly say with a huff,”do you like it?”

God, he loves it actually.

“Yeah, I think it looks great, but do you like it?”

“Ugh, fine. I’ll get it but only for you okay?”

Suguru quickly and efficiently stomps down the flutter in his stomach that drifts lower the longer he looks at your ass. Really , he wonders, all for me?

“What did you say?”

You turn to him with a pout before forcing a smile on your face and he prays that you miss the way his eyes meet yours a little too slowly. “I said,” he grins, forcing confidence and calm into his voice,”Lucky me. Seriously though, if you don’t feel great in it then don’t get it.”

A huff of air passes between your lips before you walk back into the fitting rom and pull the curtain behind you closed. It continues on like this, you occasionally coming out with a new article of clothing for Suguru to give his genuine opinion on. There are a couple of “nos” which you completely agreed with, but also several “yeses” that made their way back into the cart. Between each wardrobe change and each inquiry for an honest opinion, Suguru continues to type away at emails and answer curious DMs about pricing and custom pieces. He can proudly say that he has most of his work done by the time you’re finishing up.

After divying up accessories, shoes, and most of your new clothes, all that remains is a short lilac “dress”. It’s a different style than you’re used to, but Suguru had insisted that there wasn’t any harm in trying it. Maybe it the scraps of fabric could be something that you really enjoyed. It’s only now, when you ask for his help, that Geto Suguru realizes just how big of a mistake he’s made.

“Help,” you pout, doing your best to cover the swell of your chest. Ignoring the pesky loud insistent and horny devil that insists he should try to get any eyeful he can, Suguru’s hands hover over your form as he asks,”Uh...how?”

The “dress” is a mess of strings and short fabric that don’t really make sense. With the way its currently wrapped precariously around your frame, Suguru supposes that it’s not supposed to cover much. Soon the two of you begin working together on figuring out whatever this...mess is. You hold onto the two long string sat the top of the “dress” as Suguru fixes the pieces in the middle so they wrap around your waist appropriately now.

By the time you’re both done, you’re wearing the sluttiest dress he’s ever seen. A short skirt that shows a peek of your ass, a halter top that clings to your chest, strings in the middle that cross your frame, and a carefully tied bow around your neck that holds the “top” together.

“It’s...” he begins to say, trying to find any words to describe the fabric other than lewd, slutty, or begging to be taken off.

“Ridiculous,” you finish for him with a laugh,”I can barely move in this thing.”

Suguru wonders if that’s the point of this thing, to hold or restrain whoever wore it into submission. To be easy access for whoever was in the room.

“Maybe that’s the point.”

Instead of staring at him in disgust, you laugh and cup your chest through the fabric of your dress. By the twist in your face and the exaggerated pout on your lips, Suguru already recognizes the inside joke before his brain does.

You whine, an ugly loud sort of moan falling from your open mouth and ask,”Isn’t that the point, daddy ?”

It’s a joke that all of you have done — and still do — for as long as Suguru can remember. The only difference between this time and the other thousand times you’ve done it is that you’ve never done it half naked before. As comical as the moan is and the way you cry again in a high-pitched voice,”Daddy” is, Suguru’s monkey brain decides that he loves this noise on you.

He loves how ridiculous this all is, but his brain wants to hear what you actually sound like when you’re about to cum. Maybe without the “Daddy” title, or maybe with,” he’s not entirely sure yet.

“Cut it out,” he huffs, trying to stare at you with minimal interest and lust,”we should get out of here. They have to be closing soon.”

“Shit, you’re right. Should I put this back or just buy it?”

Suguru is too caught up in the moment to think about what he’s truly saying. With this lighting, with the inherent intimacy of a smaller room, he can see your nipples press against the fabric of your dress, practically begging to sit pretty in his mouth. He can see the way the lilac of the dress compliments the richness of your skin in a way that somehow elevated how beautiful it already looked day to day. It can’t just be the skimpy dress because he’s seen you in plenty; high school and college parties with ridiculous forever 21 dresses he’s never seen after the first couple of wears.

It can’t be the nearly unbearable joy at getting to spend time with you again after being away for a few weeks, business keeping him away from his friends. You’re too gorgeous right now and Suguru is too stupid to really think about what he’s saying before it’s out there for all of the world to hear.

“I like it,” Suguru says plainly,”but you can’t wear it out.”

For a moment, the raven-haired man wants to fall into the floor and let the concrete swallow him whole. Then, after that, Suguru wants the earth underneath the concrete to swallow him further until he’s in the center of everything, burning into nothing at the earth’s massive core.

Or — alternatively — maybe he could curse an angry and vengeful god who would smite him with the hottest stroke of lightning it could manage. Whatever’s easier. He’ll take anything over trying to explain his way out of this.

At least your voice has more than a hint of amusement when you ask,”Why?”

Why, indeed. You are definitely entitled to an answer, but Suguru is currently too afraid of scaring you with the truth. The truth is that he wants to be the only one to see you in this dress. The truth is that he wouldn’t even let you leave the hotel with this dress on, nevermind the fitting room of the store. The thought of eyes or hands that aren’t his own ogling and touching your frame makes searing annoyance burn away at him. Wracking his brain for some sort of logical answer that isn’t cave-man logic, Suguru spits out the first thing he can think.

“What if you get cold or something?”

Idiot.

You stare at him for a moment, amusement bringing a laugh out of you and confusion making your eyebrow quirk up as you say,”Uh, Sugu? It’s Bali.” Your smile widens at the very slight widening of realization in Suguru’s eyes and you continue with a knowing,”the weather is going to be gorgeous.”

There’s a brief moment where Suguru shrugs and flounders for any sort of answer he can think of. Anything that will keep this moment from getting too weird and too out of control. But then, it is getting weird and out of control isn’t it? He shrugs again when nothing comes to mind and your smile is now a rueful and curious grin.

Folding your arms across your chest, you take another step closer to him and ask,”Wanna try another excuse?”

“Fine,” Suguru sighs, snorting at the way your eyes light up,”I just don’t like it okay?”

“But why,” you draw out with a grin,”why don’t you like it? It’s because it looks bad right? Admit it.”

An offended shock travels through him as he listens to your declaration. Is that what you thought he was getting at? “Wait what?” he asks, just to be sure. You lean back against the wall behind you with a cool shrug.

“You say you love everything on me,” you continue,”to the point where it’s just unrealistic.”

“Unrealistic?”

“Yeah, you can’t love everything on me!”

“What if I do,” Suguru insists, mouth dipping into a frown,”what if I just like how everything looks on you?”

“Okay,” you smirk,”then what don’t you like about this dress?”

Suguru really hates how knowing and smug you look right now. He tries to laugh it off, tries to lighten everything and move on, but it comes out as a weak huff and a roll of his eyes. The more he thinks about what he could say to defuse the situation, the more honesty shines like a beacon. He can muddle the truth slightly. Maybe the slight nugget of truth will deter you from trying to seek a more concrete answer.

“As your bestfriend,” Suguru starts, wading through the waters carefully,”the dress is a little...much. What if someone tries to get a little handsy?” Just as you open your mouth to counter him, to insist that people will get handsy regardless of what anyone would be wearing because that’s just how some people were, Suguru comes into your space. You lean against the cold wall behind you as if to get a little space away from him, shuddering at the feeling of its coolness on your skin.

Now he’s effectively caging you here, using his size to show you the feeling of being sort of subdued by an unwanted body. But Suguru is anything but unwanted. He smells the soft floral allure of your fading perfume from this angle. He can see the way your breath hitches at his closeness, the rising and falling of your chest stopping only for a second as you look up at him.

“So right now,” he continues, pulling one of the tight bands of string around your middle and letting it snap back against your skin,”if I was some asshole, any asshole, I’d be able to grab you anywhere.” A slight wince comes across your features at the feeling, but Suguru can also see the glitter of something in your eyes. A sort of glitter that sits heavily in your eyes, so heavily that your dark orbs do nothing to hide it. A glitter that Suguru has only seen directed at other people’s way.

Your hand comes up to rest on his chest, not so subtly feeling the warm skin just beneath the black shirt,”Maybe that’s why I like it.” The laugh you allow to slip through is full of strain and tension, but Suguru doesn’t say anything about it. He doesn’t laugh along or try to add to your joke at all. Something is happening here, something that he definitely doesn’t want to end.

Even though you try to laugh it off and force this moment to be lighthearted, the two of you know there’s nothing lighthearted about it. There’s no reason for Suguru’s concern about what you’re wearing and when you should be wearing it. There’s no reason for Suguru to act this ridiculous thought in his head out and physically show you what he means. There’s definitely no reason for you to be pulling Suguru closer, so he’s flush against you. As close as he can be while still looking you in the eyes. There’s something here in this small room bringing the two of you together in a way that you’ve never really been before. Sure Suguru has considered it greatly over the years, but he’s never acted on it.

No matter how many times he wanted to pin you down and fuck you out of the slutty Forever 21 dresses you wore in college. No matter how many cuddle sessions over the years with the two of you alone got questionable to say the least. No matter how many people asked Suguru if you were available and all he wanted to do was say that you belonged to him...and Satoru. He never did anything to try and take this relationship further. Before it would’ve ruined things and left a strange taste in the back of your throats but now? Now it would permanently destroy the fragile thing the three of you currently have.

“You like it because you want everyone to touch you?” he asks, hearing the slight annoyance in his voice,”I thought I knew all your kinks.” His fingers travel a little further up your torso, fingers grazing just underneath the swell of your chest. Suguru definitely doesn’t miss the way you lean up into the touch. “No,” you answer with a soothing sigh,”not everyone.”

Although whatever you have now is fragile, although he literally just insisted to himself that this is stupid, the way you’re looking up at him now has every logical thought in his head swirling down the drain. Suguru leans in a little too close to be friendly, too close to insist later on — when he reflects on all of this and hates himself for it — that he hadn’t really crossed a line. You don’t move away at his closeness or at the way his hips press flush against your navel. In fact, Suguru notices the excitement in your eyes, the need for soem sort of change to happen.

If he reaches any further in your top, he could cup the flesh of your chest with two fingers. If he reaches far enough, discards the top altogether and unveils your flesh for the world to see, he could give a polite wet thorough hello to the pebbled skin of your nipple.

The thought alone is enough to encourage the beginnings of swelling to his cock. For a moment, he wonders if you can feel just how hard you’re beginning to make him by doing the absolute bare minimum. Can you feel how long he’s been wanting to do this? How long he’s been staring a little longer and harsher than necessary at those skimpy Forever 21 dresses you used to wear or the slight movement in your breasts when you slip your bra off through your shirt?

“Not everyone huh?” he asks, quickly realizing he’s been staring at you like a weirdo. From this close though, maybe it doesn’t matter. You shake your head, your lips fitting into a smile that’s less amused, less knowing, and more wanting. “Only certain people?” he continues, pressing you to say something that’ll give him some sort of hint,” It’s plain to see that with the right words now, with the right touch, with the right tone, the two of you could change any and everything in the blink of an eye. Years of desire building up to this very moment in some random store.

Despite his earlier hesitation, Suguru feels bravery course through him as you look into his eyes. He feels so brave, so impossible confident, that his thumb comes up to join the other two and brushes against the pebbled skin of your nipple. A soft shudder leaves your lips as you follow this thumb’s journey. Your mouth parts to say something, anything that will encourage him to keep moving.

“Uh...is anyone in here?”

The fear that settles deep into your bellies is cold and sudden. Suguru nearly jumps out of his skin before moving away from your form. He moves too far, too fast, and ends up cooly hitting his head on the set of hangers on the other side of the fitting room. Ignoring his hisses as he rubs the back of his head, you take a peek from around the curtain and grimace at the exhausted sales associate staring right back at you.

“H-hi,” is all you can manage. It must be just as lame as it sounds because you can see the undeniable strength it takes for her to not roll her eyes at you. There’s no way to hide Suguru’s giant body in the stall now, not with him being several inches taller than you and quietly muttering about the hangers.

“Hi,” she answers in slight annoyance,”we’re closing in 5 minutes.”

“Shit,” you mutter,”I’m so sorry. We’ll...I’ll head out to pay now.

“Sure,” she replies knowingly, taking the time to look over your shoulder at Suguru and then back at you,”have a good night.”

There’s a moment where neither of you say anything. You both stand in silence and look at everywhere but each other which is nearly impossible in the small space. The heat from earlier hasn’t dissipated with the interruption. It somehow burns brighter than before, lighting up the room with its intensity. You grab your discarded clothes slowly, looking around for your belongings in the mess of clothes. “We should get going,” Suguru suggests lamely, painfully aware that he’s stating the obvious,,”do you know what you’re getting?”

You reach behind your neck and begin to untie the thin strings around your neck before responding,”Kinda. I’ll look through them super quick after I change back.” Suddenly your eyes meet his for the first time since all of...that. Letting the strings fall around your shoulders, your arm goes to hold up your top limply in a poor attempt of modesty.

From where he towers over you, Suguru can see the push of your chest against the fabric. One wrong move, one quick impulsive decision, and he could see your flesh for himself. He could claim it as his own. “Can I ask you something?” you ask, eyes dipping from his eyes to his waist and back. He knows he’s chubbed up in his pants, but he can’t find it in himself to care. He loves how you own this, whatever this is, and confirm thoughts and feelings that he initially thought only he had.

“What’s up?”

“Wanna help me pack tonight? I have to get sooo much done.”

Suguru doesn’t want to admit that he’ll drink up any time with you that he can. Right now he can’t figure out if this is some sort of need finally being met or the culmination of years of odd feelings he didn’t want to look too closely at. So he chooses the easy-going route instead, something that he’s seen Satoru do time and time again when things got too serious. The raven-haired man tries to avoid thinking about the way his pants feel slightly tighter at the soft rising and falling of your chest as you await his answer.

Suguru shakes his head with a grin and tilts his head to the side as slight offense climbs its way into his voice,”Wow, now it seems like you’re just trying to take advantage of my kindness.” You roll your eyes and lightly shove him away with one hand, a smile making its way onto your feature. Initially his large frame barely moves at the motion, but then suddenly Suguru gasps and holds his arm with a pained groan. It makes you laugh — his goal after all — and pull at his arm to push him out of the stall altogether.

“I’m gonna get dressed,” you laugh softly,”keep guard.”

“Will do,” he says with a smile and promptly walks over to your cart.

As he hears the rustle of clothing, he hears you speak up in an awkward sort of tone,”So...do you want to?”

Could he...?

“Help me pack,” you finish, voice slowly growing tight at the sudden silence in the room,”I’d appreciate the help. Also, I just...I dunno, I haven’t seen you in a while.” Suguru says nothing as he leans against the hand-rail of your cart, trying his hardest to read the sudden change in emotion. He can’t really tell if you’re trying to make everything “normal” or attempting to seem casual after the tension. He manages a hum to show he’s listening, but waits for you to give him a little more.

“Remember all those sleepovers we used to have?” you ask, neatly leaving out the part where your sleepovers consisted of one more person besides the two of you,”I just miss them I guess.”

Suguru smiles softly at the memories as he says,”Yeah. I can help you pack. I’m supposed to be driving your tomorrow morning so...I can sleepover tonight.”

You pop out of the fitting room with a bundle of clothes under one arm. His heart flutters at the happiness in your eyes. “Thanks, Sugu,” you smile, the warmth there livening up his skin,”that means a lot.” As Suguru goes to respond, to say that maybe he has something he wants to talk about, he feels your hand shoving him yet again. He snorts at the reaction and notes the flustered look on your face as you mumble something about “too mushy” and grab your cart.

Even though everything seems fine on your way out of the store, Suguru notices that you go out of your way to gander at marketing posters in the store, to glance sympathetically at the tired employees more than usual, or to judge lingering customers in the store; even if you are one. You don’t seem bothered by your earlier actions, but the silence is still weird. You buy your items with ease, still quiet and maybe reflective, and wish the sales associate who walked in on the two of you a good night.

________

By the time you both arrive home, any possible awkwardness has faded away. The packing session turns into a modeling session where you make ridiculous poses that make Suguru laugh so hard his abs ache. Then the session turns frantic as you pack and repack to make sure you have everything you need. Even though the two of you drift in and out of the conversation as you fold and refold, you both avoid what happened earlier in a complex dance. Even though you playfully smacked his arm and Suguru grabbed your wrist with a laugh, the two of you pulled away without a beat and moved on smoothly.

Even though you modeled bathing suits just to make sure they “looked good”, Suguru said you looked great as his eyes openly caressed your body. Even though Suguru dutifully followed your request at sleeping in bed with you like the old days, you tried your hardest not to grind against him as you physically brought his arm around you.

________

Suguru looks as peaceful and easy-going as always in the hazy orange-blue light that early morning brings. Your body begins twisting and reaching before you even realize it, a ghost of a smile hitting the corner of your lips when his arm only loosens around your form a fraction. You pull black tendrils of hair out of their loosened prison, instinctively allowing the hairband to wrap around your wrist with a thwap. At the feeling of your fingers slipping through his hair, Suguru lets out a sort of groan that resembles a lazy lion. He pushes his head into the feeling, humming even louder when you begin occasionally scratching his scalp.

Despite his soft noises, the overall calming silence of early morning slows the bodies down significantly. The two of you stretch around each other, pushing away only briefly to try to not-so-subtly rub the sleep from both of your eyes and make sure you’re both somewhat presentable. When you lie on your back this time, Suguru doesn’t fully relinquish his arm.

Instead, he rests his head on your shoulder and keeps his arm firmly around your middle. His warm breath spreads against your collarbone, warming the cool skin there. This is all very different than what you’re used to, but not entirely foreign.

You remember sleepovers throughout high school in a cramped basement with three bodies trying their hardest to fit onto Suguru’s beat-up couch. You remember sleepovers throughout high school where if you weren’t in that basement, you were lying in Satoru’s king-sized bed and promising that the three of you would be together always.

You remember sleepovers in college in either of your dorms each week, squished together in the twin-sized bed dorms provide like a pack of sardines. You distinctly remember that no matter the location or where you decided to lay your head for the night, waking up every morning with Satoru sprawled partially on top of you and snoring into your ear while Suguru’s hair covering your face.

You would always allow, demand, and welcome any amount of closeness the boys were willing to give as possible. So while Suguru’s presence in your bed isn’t entirely foreign, the tension in it is definitely new.

With the weight of him pressing into you, you can feel his knee caging your thigh and the tip of his nose pressing against the soft skin of your neck. Although he’ll always be your Suguru, your best friend, you can’t help the way your mind wanders to last night.

You’ve never thought about whether or not you found Suguru attractive until last night. Of course, you could admit that he was attractive but it never really went anywhere from there. But now things are different.

Now cracks of curiosity are slowly forming through the “I will not look at Geto Suguru this way” wall you’ve built up over the years. This bubbling tension is far from a joke gone horribly wrong or a weird “we should try it at least once” impulsive decision.

If Suguru found you attractive to the point of action, wouldn’t he say something to you? With everything that’s happened, would he not distance himself in that way? Dating Satoru blurred social lines for all of your relationships and impacted the way you all interacted. The three of you were already very close, closer than people could really understand, but once you and Satoru started dating, Suguru seemed to distance himself.

As you lie there in bed, unsure of the time, your mind flashes to the feeling of his fingers on your skin in a way you’ve never felt before. As you stare at the pale expanse of Suguru’s leg, longing to trace the intricate tattoos covering the skin, you regret your idiotic decision to date Satoru. It ruined everything the three of you had. For a time, after the two of you broke up, it seemed like it had.

Suguru was split between hanging out wtiht the two of you as you mourned something that was doomed to fail. It must’ve been annoying, you think as you brush the stray strands of hair out of your face and wrap a few fingers around the tresses, and exhausting. Despite how tiring it must’ve been, Suguru was there for the two of you and insisted that you could all make this work again. That it didn’t have to be this way. You could all be friends just like before.

It would’ve been possible.

Maybe now with Gojo distracted and Suguru here, everything could go back to normal. You wonder if you’ve ruined those chances yet again though as your mind wanders once again to the feeling of his skin on yours.

As you reflect on the night before, Suguru’s very warm and very heavy body moves. He shifts once against you and then twice, seemingly burrowing further into the blankets surrounding the both of you. On the third time, you can feel a firm presence somewhere against your thigh. The presence is only there for a moment before Suguru adjusts again. It’s too late though. You’ve felt it. The telltale sign of morning arousal for certain people.

“What’s that line again,” you ask, eyes never leaving the white ceiling glaring back at you,”is that your phone in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

Despite the feeling of his once relaxed body tensing and his hand moving away from its home on your stomach, Suguru apologizes with a tired laugh. A very slight adjustment follows the laugh, the feeling of him on your thigh now ghost-like in nature as you try to remember the shape and feel.

The silence that follows shortly after grows heavy and charging as it heats up the air with its intensity. Suguru lies still next to you now, every ounce of sleep and calm previously in his body leaving in a steady stream. Neither of you want to move away entirely and deal with the awkwardness that often came from these situations.

At the same time though, neither of you want to pull away entirely or create space that so desperately needs to be there.

Silently, delicately, you move his hand that pools in a small space between the two of you over your stomach, resting the large palm against the sliver of skin your slightly disheveled tank top leaves. The two of you watch his gentle fingers caress your skin and the goosebumps that rise with each stroke. The calm that comes naturally with Suguru has always been addicting.

It encourages a state of relaxation that’s almost akin to mindlessness. Physical affection that made you sink into his arms, boneless and open. Laughter that always seemed to flow out of your body naturally and easily. There’s something about Suguru’s presence that brings a comfort that always makes you stop thinking completely.

As you remember his fingers on your body last night and feel the way his fingers carefully dance along your body, you can feel your brain begin to shut off. The “what if”s and “what about”s fade into the background as his large warm fingers slowly, but surely crawl their way underneath your tanktop and explore.

As those fingertips dance along your torso, pulling your tank top up as it makes its unknown journey, Suguru’s brown eyes look up into yours. By the time your shirt is lying above your chest, goosebumps marking your skin, Suguru’s fingers turn into a full palm that holds your breast and gently squeezes the delicate flesh in its hold.

Something about the way you don’t really feel exposed to him necessarily like this, something about the ghost of a smirk on his face at the sight of you shivering slightly at being exposed to the cold, solidifies that this is Geto Suguru. Your Getou Suguru who knows all of the kinks you’ve joked about all of the years, all of the pleasure spots around your body, and who currently looks very happy. Like he’s thanking the stars for aligning in the exact position that they did in order to bring the universe to make this happen right now.

But Suguru doesn’t move from his hand or anything really. He just hovers there as his dark eyes watch every twitch of your muscles and hazy-eyed blink of your eyes. Suguru doesn’t move when you arch slightly, moving his hand away slightly so contact is never made. Suguru doesn’t move when you pout, your eyebrows beginning to furrow at the lack of anything. He even doesn’t move when you wrap a hand around his wrist and pull the limb toward you.

Suguru��s stronger than you and easily maneuvers out of your hold.

Frustration begins to boil away at your stomach as your gaze hardens into a not-very-convincing glare. Suguru smiles at the sight but continues to remain still. Your best friend knows how impatient you are. From long road trips to emotional-support DMV trips to sitting around at Satoru’s martial arts tournaments in high school, you can barely tolerate waiting for your food to fully cool before shoving it into your mouth. It appears that sex is no different.

“Sugu,” you huff out, sucking your teeth as he dodges your breast yet again,”if you don’t do something I’m going to scream.”

“Tell me you want it.”

Briefly removing the lustful lens you’ve had on since you woke up this morning, you take a second to really consider Suguru. He presses his lips against your forehead as he begins to move. Suguru leaves his place on your shoulder and leans on his elbow to hover over you a bit. His hand comes to rest just underneath the pebbled skin. Then he waits. The eagerness in his eyes matches what you can only assume is bursting out of yours.

But why isn’t Suguru doing anything?

Does he want you to take control?

As if you’re not waiting on bated breath, Suguru sits up a little higher and uses that halted hand to pull the thick black band from around your wrist. Your eyes follow the movements of his fingers, fluid and unconscious as they gather his long hair and pull it into some sort of messy bun. Out of his face and unable to tickle whatever parts of your body it landed on. “I just want to be sure,” he insists, some of that lust dialing back in his eyes,”I just want us to be sure.”

Then you notice his slightly stiff hands and the way his fingers accidentally pull his bun to far before he has to start the process of retying his hair all over again. The way his eyes flicker about your face nervously as his mouth just begins to pull into a frown. Seeing his nervousness minds your lust-fried brain that this is new to you both.

As sexy as all of this is, there’s a choice in this. A choice to keep everything as close to the past as you could or to venture off in some unknown path. But as his arms begin flexing with apparent the effort it takes to retie his hair, you notice his body. You remember that you want to feel good and make him feel good in return and only then does your mind settle matters for you by shutting itself off. You nod. It’s a hurried nod that reveals every bit of desperation you’re holding in your bones.

The sight has Suguru tsking and shaking his head in disapproval. With his messy bun somewhat settled on his head, he leans down again on his elbow to get closer to your body. Annoyance fills your chest as you watch Suguru, with this newfound consent, do absolutely nothing.

“Geto,” you find yourself pouting, grabbing lazily at his wrists as he laughs,”I want it. I want it. Just do something please. Oh my fucking Go—”

Sharp and long pain bleeds into hot pleasure as your body is viciously brought on edge. Your annoyed pout turns into a pathetic whimper as your eyebrows furrow in pleasure. Body moving simultaneously towards and away from the offending hand, you squeeze your thighs together at the raw ache of your pussy. Need, unbridled need, fills you in a way that’s nearly overwhelming with the sheer power of it. Suguru’s initial pinch soon turns into a twist as he watches you at the mercy of his whims.

The command in your hold on him loses its potency as your lips part to let out moans growing in intensity and length. Suguru’s dark eyes never leave your face as he starts rolling the nipple between his fingers.

“More, Sugu. C’mon,” you gasp, grabbing his wrist and trying lamely to bring it closer.

Surprisingly Suguru actually listens.

He leans down quickly, too far gone to care about the awkward angle, and licks along your breast. It takes the slightest tilt, the slightest nudge of his nose, for your nipple to finally make its way into the warm cavern of your mouth. His mouth, warm and wet, unleashes a predatory tongue that eagerly greets your sensitive flesh. Your fingers find his hair as the tip of that muscle flicks against the swollen nub and ruin the bun he so carefully put together. Your mind fades as his tongue increases and decreases in speed, each new action unpredictable and random.

The thick tendrils of hair in your fist slip and bend along with your movements, your arches, your whimpers, and a sudden harsh suck has them pulling painfully from Suguru’s scalp. He moans into your chest, pushing his head into your hand with an encouraging nod. As Suguru begins to switch to your neglected breast, a renewed pleasure courses through your bones, and you feel more and more of those thrusts.

The power in them, the feel of his cock faintly rubbing against you, has you thinking very hard about his cock.

Whether the thick length of him curves up slightly or whether it’s just as huge as all those people in high school and college exclaimed, or whether his favorite spot sits in wait on the underside of his tip or right on the slit. You heard stories throughout high school and college of “Impossibly big” and “long and perfectly curved” but you’ve never experienced it for yourself.

You had classmates and friends of friends occasionally ask you for explicit details about Suguru and Satoru because of your friendship. There were very few times when Satoru was drunk and would flash you or accidentally walk in on Suguru while he was getting changed, but you always looked away.

You’d close your eyes and rush out of the room immediately. When people asked all you could say was “Ew, of course not” or “Are you kidding me? Look at them”. Now you’re eating those words when you should really be eating his cock. Now you’re curious and you need to know everything, every single detail you can about his cock. You need to know the shape of it in his briefs, the natural smell of him, the girth of inside you, the impossible heat it’d bring.

Somewhere in between his sucks, he must’ve noticed you getting a little too spacey for his liking. By the time you gather the courage, the small bit of sense you had left, to tell him to take his cock out, it’s too late. His teeth descend upon your nipple and squeeze the swollen aching flesh viciously. Maybe Suguru really was paying attention all of the times you’ve talked about your kinks and emphasized how anything to do with your chest was the key to your pants.

Those teeth, that delicious squeeze, soon expand into a slight stretch as he pulls his head back slightly. The orgasm takes the two of you by surprise. Your back arches into the firmness of his body, the weight of him bearing down on you to hold you in place. His other hand holds onto your hips firmly, pinning them to the bed effortlessly. Your sleep shorts bunch up a bit in his hand as he holds you still and waits for you to come down.

Closing your eyes tight and holding on, your body hums with the suddenness of it, the unpredictable nature of it, as if neither of you was prepared for this.

By the time you finish cumming, chest panting slightly as you finally open your eyes, you feel the press of large fingers against your clothed folds. “Holy shit,” Suguru snorts, pushing further into the slightly tacky cotton,”soaked through your shorts.”

It’s not like you’ve never came from just your nipples before. You had to be really into the moment for it to happen, the need to be relaxed or mindless driving the action. But it doesn’t really happen with hookups or relationships. Well, that’s not true.

It happened pretty often with Satoru.

“Needy, baby.”

Suguru presses a chaste kiss on your temple and easily maneuvers the cotton of your shorts until he’s home in the confining wet heat of your underwear. The odd angle doesn’t work for either of you. Quicker than you’d like to admit, you peel off your shorts and underwear, tossing them into the far corner of the room. With easier access, Suguru’s fingers crush past the trimmed hair of your mound and travel down to your swollen clit.

A tentative brush of a dry fingertip on sensitive flesh brings out a desperate and annoyed whine from your very chest,”Sugu, stop teasing.”

All Suguru can do is smile at your patience — your neediness — as he spreads your slick around your heated folds with experienced fingers. You look up at him with a huff and immediately try to hold back the smile Suguru kisses your forehead gently.

“Been wanting to do this for a while,” he admits in the short-lived quiet,”let me enjoy it okay?”

You’re too dizzy with want and need and ache and burning to pay attention to it, keening when his finger begins to tighten its lazy circles. Although somewhere deep inside, the precious kisses Suguru keeps giving you make your heart ache.

Somewhere that ache flows down and lands firmly on your clit.“Enjoy it faster,” you groan with a slight pant,”wanna suck you off.” He grinds against your thigh in response, barely biting down the gasp that leaves his mouth at the pressure on his tip.

His fingers move down to the rest of your cunt, gently and roughly rubbing on sensitive spots until they glide with ease in your folds. It’s only when you’re on the verge of biting the meat of his cheek, twisting to press against his flushed cheek with your mouth open, that a long finger slips in without any resistance.

There’s no comment or protest this time. No annoyed huffs either. As if to punish your previously childish behavior even more, another long finger joins its sibling and sits in your heat. There’s the slightest bit of resistance now as your body adjusts to the feeling of sudden and thorough fullness.You wiggle your hips to relieve the pressure slightly and nod against Suguru’s lips on your temple as he asks if you’re okay. Then the fingers move slowly, purposefully, out of your drooling hole.

The adjustment doesn’t take too long to get used to. You buck your hips, impatience building once again, and whimper,”Sugu.”

There’s no hiding the genuine annoyance starting to bubble beneath your skin. Even if he’s bigger than you thought he’d be, you could take him now. You can take the discomfort, the painful stretch in your pelvis as your insides greet him. He’s only just begun and, with the lack of sex recently, you’ll probably ache tomorrow.

But a part of you right now needs the pain. Needs to feel the burn that’ll deliciously light up your cunt into an overstimmed used and ruined thing. It’s been ages since you’ve last been touched and you want to feel every single part of it now. You also want to be good for Suguru and in return have him be good for you.

You want to feel the weight of his cock in your mouth, on your tongue, and in your throat. “Yeah,” you whimper, encouragement and praise bleeding into your voice,”More, c’mon. I want it—” His fingers are long enough, thick enough, that it should be enough, but you want more. Your cries go unheard as his eyes focus solely on the wet slosh your pussy makes as he pumps at your hole.

The speed of those fingers finally picks up and travels right past where you’d begged for them to be. Instead, you meet a brutal pace that has your legs shaking slightly and hips meeting the meat of his palm. With each slight smack of his palm, each buck of your hips, your clit can only take each shock of a slap. Your orgasm builds just as viciously as the last. It claws its way from deep in your belly, making itself known with each slight “pap” on your clit. This is all too much. He’s only fingering you and your orgasms are unforgiving and seemingly constant. As Suguru continues to break the thin threads holding you together and rip them in half, the pads of his fingers rub meanly against that swollen bump inside of you.

“Sugu, Sugu, Sugu,” you chant, body writhing,”I want—”

“I don’t think you know what you want,” Suguru cuts in, hips moving a little more insistently against your thigh. You’re vaguely aware of the cotton wetting your skin when he speaks up again,”You’ll probably take anything I give you at this point.” He ignores your desperate and indignant pleas as he pulls his glazed digits from your clingy cunt,”My fingers, my tongue, my cock, my cum...in your slutty wet pussy or maybe somewhere else.”

You can feel the way your holes instinctively clench at the suggestion and can see the way Suguru grins at the feeling of those muscles tightening. As you moan at his mischievous grin, moan at the way he touches you so roughly yet so gently, those fingers find their way between his slightly parted lips. Suguru sucks off the lingering dribbles of white and hums softly at the musky taste of you dancing around his tongue. draw two individual paths along either side of your folds to wrap around their prize.

The beauty of Geto Suguru isn’t lost on you in this moment.

The wildness of his hair as it fans all over your shoulders and tickles your arms, hair tie long-forgotten in the festivities. The darkness of his eyes only shows warm lust and unfiltered and unyielding want. The various tattoos dance along his arms and cover his chest in such a way that the bright silver of his nipple piercings draws your eye. You’re probably staring for too long because Suguru begins to shift under your gaze. It isn’t discomfort or shyness, but it doesn’t feel confident or happy.

“Do I look pretty?” he asks suddenly, pursing his lips into the most obnoxious duck face.

“You’re the prettiest, babe,” you answer with a laugh,”Need you though.”

The brief humor between the two of you dissipates and all that’s left is the heady scent of arousal.

“You have me,” Suguru smiles a little wider,”Now you’re just getting greedy.” Your pout deepens at his comment and the thought of biting his nose dances across your mind. As Suguru slides his fingers back into your aching heat, you know he can feel how wet you are. There’s no way he can’t see how much you want this. He’s even heard you beg for it, so why is he holding back?

Because Suguru hates you probably, you think, hates you so much he doesn’t want you to feel good. But you don’t want to think anymore. You want to go stupid on his cock, to become a drooling wet mess, destroyed and then slowly put back together again.

“You keep whining and complaining,”Suguru sighs, steadily picking up his previous pace,”what do you want anyway?”

You whimper immediately, arching your back as those fingers relentlessly curl upwards and press. “Suck you off,” you answer dutifully, eyes following the pale blur of Suguru’s hand between your legs.

Yeah, baby,” he coos, pressing another kiss to your forehead,”you wanna suck me off that badly huh?”

“Yeah please please plea—”

Loud. Incessant. Irritating. High pitched.

The gratingly loud song of the ringtone is enough to slow the pace of Suguru’s fingers inside of you.

“What the fuck is that?”

Suguru sits up a little further, slipping the pruny fingers into his mouth to suck your juices off as his other hand scrolls through the offending device. The bright light of his phone draws a groan out of him. “Shit. Six missed calls,” he mutters, “and he’ll just keep calling”. All you can process is Suguru and another orgasm.

All you care about is Suguru and another orgasm. Instead of sliding down the ledge, you’re slowly backing away and heading back home. In order to think again, in order to be a person who contributes to this world, you take matters into your own hands.

You clamor your way up from your lying position to sit up and straddle the thick muscles that make up Suguru’s thigh. Although his eyebrows have begun to furrow, his other large hand — the not-pruny one — guides you by your waist to sit fully on your new chair.

Now, with firm pressure on your clit, you’re too far gone to care about who’s calling and why.

The mild annoyance on Suguru’s face isn’t enough to deter you. Not after all of the teasing he’s been doing. If it can’t be the man itself, at least a part of him promises salvation. As you steady yourself on his shoulders, whimpering at and promptly ignoring the tightening grip on your waist, you begin to move your hips. The insistent pressure on your clit isn’t enough to make your mind completely shatter but it’s enough to get you over that ledge in front of you.

“Hey,” Suguru grunts softly, trying not to think of the sweet kiss from your bare pussy leaving a damp patch on his thigh,”you might wanna hold off.” The ringtone fades and leaves the filthy sound of sex behind.

A part of your mind whispers that you should ask just who’s calling Suguru at this hour but as his hand guides you more, starts lifting his thigh slightly to meet your hips, you forget everything else. Cramps burn their way into your hips and thighs as you maintain pace. While he moves you as well as he can, you don’t really trust him.

How can you be so sure that he won’t tease you? That he won’t drag you kicking and screaming from the mountaintop again all because he wants to take his time?

“Sugu,” you pant, leaning closer to the sturdy man,”please. No more okay? Help me.”

“Shit.”

There it is again. Shrill and irritating.

“Just answer. I’ll be quiet promise.”

When you look at him, you can see a slight panic in Suguru’s eyes. Attributing it up to the possibility of being caught, the shock of a fantasy being served on a silver platter, you keep humping. You watch as those eyes travel down the length of your body, taking in your bouncing tits and jiggling tummy, and focus solely on your skin meeting his. “Fuck,” he hisses, hand slowing down the speed of your hips,”you’re getting my thigh so wet baby—”

As hot as the feeling of wetting his skin is, the incessant ringtone is bringing you out of your horny reverie and into annoyance. “Sugu,” you grunt, trying to regain speed despite his hold on you,”focus, answer the phone okay?”

Suguru rolls his eyes and huffs, blindly tapping away at his phone with his other hand as he stares at your sex,“What happened to ‘Sugu, please’? All that sweet stuff from earlier?”

Despite the distractions, the annoyance, the resistance in your movement brings just the right kind of force against your clit. You’re nearly toppling over now, staring down at the rocky waters below and feeling ocean spray on your cheeks. You’re close. So close that you can practically taste it. The banter is usually welcoming, but not now. It’s now or never.

“Stop,” you moan, clinging to his shoulders,”shut up, fuck. C’mon, c’mon, c’mon —”

You barely notice Suguru’s palm leaving the heated skin of your hip. Your eyes water with the intensity of the build-up, the rise right before the fall. All that matters is the next few seconds before you can finally fall off that ledge, before you can drop down into the abyss. But then it’s there, hitting you so violently that you swear you can both hear and feel the rush of water. Suguru hisses at the feeling of warm and wet dribbling on his thigh. He has half a mind to toss you on the bed and pound you into it. ”Face down, ass up, now—”

“Suuguuruuuuu~”

The familiar voice has the two of you stopping immediately in your tracks, fear electrifying both of you. The haze leaves both of your eyes as you stare at each other in horror.

“Suguru, where are you?” you hear again, heart and stomach sinking as you finally recognize it. It takes longer than you’d like to admit for the two of you to locate the source of the voice.

Although you know that voice better than anyone, you still feel terror run through your bones as Suguru holds up his phone and flashes “Satoru” on the screen.

#suguru x reader #getou x you #getou smut #satoru x suguru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk x you #geto x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x geto #suguru geto #gojo satoru #black reader #gojo x black!reader #geto x black!reader #technically anyone can read though

213 notes · View notes