#maybe see if I can get a rom going | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

madamechrissy · 2 months ago

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Just Friends!?

-Art in the banner from nek0zuu_ on X-

Pairings- Former Nerd! Gojo and popular F! reader

Summary - Satoru Gojo was the biggest nerd EVER in high school with you, next door neighbors, study buddies, you were the best friends in the world. Never having the courage to ask you -the 'popular girl' out- you never knew he felt for you. He ended up leaving town, moving to the big city of LA- getting famous with a modeling career, and lost touch with everyone from his old life. While you're working the family pub to help out your parents, years later, he finally comes back to visit, just to have you making his drink. Everything about him is different, aside from those pretty blue eyes and the sweet grin. You feel he's so accomplished now, and you're just a small town girl, but little do you know, you've never left his mind.

Warnings - Nerdjo turned famous and cocky, but he's still just a Nerdjo deep down hehe- this chap - p in v sex, car sex, multiple positions, Satoru being possessive, oral (f! receiving) fingering, cum drinking, obsessive love, confessions of past love, EMOTIONAL, so many feelingsss, angsty in places - Tag list closed

Based HEAVILY on the 2005 Rom com Just Friends - part of my amazingg moot @indiewritesxoxo's Friday night flicks! 🌙 Comments/rbs appreciated <3

<<<Part Five - Masterlist - Playlist- Part Seven>>>

Part Six

It’s completely dark outside, aside from the brilliant stars shining overhead, and the glimmering moon. Satoru looks up at the sky then, such a far cry from the LA fog, it’s clearer here, it’s prettier. He has your hand in his, you’re both bundled up in your jackets and gloves, rushing over to the car, where he quickly starts the heat, as the two of you see your breaths.

You giggle then, and the sound melts him, he can’t help but have a million images flit through his mind.

Elementary school you, middle school you, high school you.

He never knew you in college, he had left you behind - you haven’t changed much since he last saw you physically, maybe a little more hips, a little maturity in your features, but mostly identical to that girl. The girl he fell in love with on sight, that day way back - the first day he’d gone to a new school, shy and hopelessly awkward. You had instantly befriended him.

You were just like that, too sweet for the world, fuck you’d be eaten alive in his world actually - not that he’d let it happen - but the differences are setting in. As badly as he wants every part of you, of this opportunity that seemed fated in its synchronicity, he also just as badly was afraid. Where did it all lead?

“You’re quiet, Satoru.” You murmur, giggles subsided, a serious expression on a face so pretty to him it makes him ache.

“I got a message,” he is quiet as he lets the heat warm you up, pulling your hands closer to the warmth and rubbing them when he takes your gloves off. “I have to go back after tomorrow night.”

“Oh. That soon?” Your brows knit together, he nods then, he has to be honest with you - he can never just leave like that day again.

“Yeah, I want to spend all the time I can with you.” He feels so vulnerable saying it then and there, but you lean closer, cool hand on his cheek, stinging from the frosty air outside.

“You really do?” He nods then, a hand gripping your wrist in the quiet of the humming sports car, a little oasis where it’s just him and you.

He wishes it would stay that way.

“All I can think about right now is how badly I don’t want to leave you, how fucking scared I am to, like you won’t…” He’s blinking back unexpected tears, you feel your own welling up then, swallowing nervously as you swipe one off a perfect cheekbone. “Like this is some dream.”

“It’s real, Satoru, I’m real.” You take his hand, placing it on your chest now, he feels your heart beat erratically under his palm then, as you grip his wrist, thumb brushing across it. “I’m scared too.”

“That I’ll disappear?” He finishes, feeling the weight of just some of the pain he put you through in your look.

“That, or you’ll get back to those models, and realize I’m nothing.”

“What!?”

“It’s my feelings, okay?” He scowls at you, jaw clenched as he grips your chin, your eyes are glimmering with unshed tears, lip trembling.

“Stop forgetting who the fuck you are.” He whispers, you look down for a moment.

“A failed teacher? Someone at home with her parents at twenty six? A girl who works at a bar and-”

“You’re so much more than that.” He cuts you off with a desperate kiss, which you lean into, when he pulls back his snowy lashes are lowered, darting side to side as if to catch every image of you to memory. “You chased your dreams teaching. You still do teach. You’re helping your fucking family, how is any of that not worthy of admiration?”

“Satoru-”

“No. No, I won't hear any more of it. You were the best friend I ever had, since that day… I’ve felt so empty inside.” Your tears fall rapidly, as he pulls you close against his chest, sighing and stroking your back, a hand up and down your spine over your pretty dress. “I wouldn’t admit what it was, how could I?”

“You were made fun of, you were hurt. I don’t blame you for running away, I just miss you for it.”

“Stop excusing it all.”

“But I don’t blame you.”

Satoru sighs now, breath against your lips, shaking his head. “You are the sweetest person I’ve ever known, and I hurt you. Maybe I don’t forgive myself for that, maybe I just realized what I did. I never knew you’d… miss me.”

“How could I not miss you!?” You pull back, the emotions overwhelming, the car so warm, mixing with the heat of your bodies in the night, in front of an empty movie theater parking lot from long ago, as you look into his brilliant blue eyes, eyes you missed, thought of so often. “You never let me answer how I felt.”

His heart stops then, because if you did feel more than friendship, that knife would bury deeper in his chest. But there was surely no way you…

“I didn’t cross the boundaries because you never, ever tried, even when I gave you so many hints.” You swipe at your cheeks now, sticky with your tears, as he watches with his breath caught in his throat.

“Hints?” His voice is hoarse.

“How many times did I claim my ‘feet were cold’ and needed to put them on you? You’d throw a pillow on them. And how many times did I get undressed right in front of you, but you’d hide like I was scary?” Satoru’s mind whirls with memories, as you continue, painting vivid images of you. “How many times when we cuddled, did I back right on you?”

“Shit…” He’s remembering it all now. “But you… no way that…”

“I dated other people because I wanted to push those feelings back, god Satoru I wanted you to be my first kiss. I asked you, don’t you remember?”

“You… what?!” You sigh now, shaking your head.

“I couldn’t have been more obvious. I asked if we could practice, when we got shoved in that closet for seven minutes. But you just… played your Nintendo DS, remember?” He grimaces now.

“I thought you were kidding. And I thought your feet were really cold! I thought you just enjoyed cuddling and…”

“So my hints all sucked.” You laugh then, like you’re losing it, and maybe you really fucking are, sighing now. “Prom, I tried to kiss you.”

“I thought you were drunk?”

“No. You seemed like you never, ever wanted to try more. So I decided to give you that, to be the best friend I could. I never, ever wanted to hurt you.” Satoru can’t even look at you for a moment, burying his head against his hand as the tears continue to fall right with you.

He hasn’t cried once since he left that night.

Not once.

Your trembling hand brushes his hair back, and he looks at you, vision swimming as the full truth is set upon him. As all those little moments start coming back - times you would blush being close, clinging to him on the pool a little too tightly, falling asleep in his arms and snuggling closer when he pulled back. At prom, you’d shut your eyes and leaned up, and he’d panicked, thinking someone spiked your punch.

He remembers it all, through a different light now.

“I didn’t have a crush on you,” you whisper, shaking your head now. “I loved you, as a best friend and I wanted more, but I thought you didn’t want me.”

“How could you not know? How badly I did want you?” He whispers, heads touching as your breaths mingle, as his hands press you closer, feeling your body tense and then relax, as you lean back, hair falling against his fingers.

“You never told me.”

“I thought you’d laugh or-”

“I would have never. Satoru I was hopelessly in love, okay? I just had to move on, because I didn’t think you felt the same.”

Love.

In love.

“In love with me?” His voice breaks, and you smile sadly, nodding.

“Your cute glasses, the silly jokes you made, the way you always made me feel so beautiful. How smart you were, how thoughtful and kind, when your smile lit up your face. When you got excited about some new insect, some new theory, some star that you discovered.” He whispers your name, as if asking you to stop, but you’re not sure your heart can stop anymore.

“You’re telling me, all those years, you loved me? More than…” You nod now, exhaling nervously, you’d been too scared to ever say those words out loud.

“I still have the letter, in a box of letters from you.”

Satoru’s heart hammers now.

Everything he thought he knew was wrong, he’d never noticed your signs, so wrapped up in his own thoughts - in his own infatuation, like you were some otherworldly being, how highly he did think of you. He never stopped to think you were just a girl, like he was just a boy back then. A girl he left behind for such stupid reasons.

What would life have been if he let you answer?

“It’s all in the past, okay? I get it, we’re not the same exactly anymore, I am okay with whatever this might be. If it’s just us… getting together, I don’t expect a white picket fence and three kids from you. I just want to be with you for now.” Satoru exhales, shaking his head then.

“That is your dream.”

“It is. But you’re here, and I don’t think I can let it slip by me.” He kisses you, his own tears swiped by your now warmed fingers gently.

“I was obsessed with you, it was beyond all of that. It was… so embarrassing.” He blushes even now, and you see the sweet boy you loved in that moment. “You were all I thought about then. All the ways I would give you your dreams, and what did I end up doing?”

“You’re here now.” He moans, kissing you deeper and deeper, it’s desperate and messy, poured with every feeling the two of you ever had. Tongues slipping together, teeth clicking, when he pulls back for a gasp of air, his eyes so dilated they’re black in the night.

“If we don’t stop now, I can’t stop. I want to bury my fucking self inside you,” he whispers, hands slipping down each side of your waist. “I’ll always fucking want you, as bad as then, worse. I’ll always think you’re the most beautiful girl that walks the fucking earth.”

“Satoru…”

“I will, I do. I always have. Don’t you know no one has compared to the girl whose picture is in my pocket?” His words end any resolve, and care for getting hurt then, how can you not be with him in this moment?

“Promise you won’t forget me.” You whisper, he sighs then, shaking his head.

“I never, ever forgot you. How could I forget you?” He yanks you on his lap then, you’re grinding against him, hungry and messy in the front of the car, hands enwrapping in his silken white locks as he pulls back, looking up at you, thumbs brushing against your nipples, making you moan. “You really liked me back?”

“Like wasn’t the word, Toru.” The old nickname melts him completely, as the girl he left behind gives him chances he doesn’t deserve.

“You shouldn’t even talk to me.”

“Toru-”

“You shouldn’t. But I can’t help but be greedy with every moment,” he’s kissing down your neck, mouth sucking at the base of it, moaning as he feels your heat against his cock over the layers. “I could never forget you.”

“Y-you’ll keep in touch?” He hates the fear in your voice, lips pulling back, angry you’re insecure when you look and feel like this.

Everything he’s ever had is just a blur now.

“I want more than this, I don’t know how the fuck it works, okay? I don’t know how we… make it happen. But I will never leave you like that. I will never hurt you like that again.”

You lean close, sighing now. “Then show me how badly you wanted me all those years.”

Satoru whimpers at that, hungry and desperate and needy when he slips your dress up your hips, you yank off your coat, tossing it in the chair, as he slips two fingers under your panties, finding you soaked. “God, you think I don’t still want you as bad as I ever did?”

“Show me, mnh!” Satoru’s sunk two fingers and curled them up, moaning as you grip him so tightly.

“Never felt anything like you, god I want you wrapped around me,” he’s looking right up at you as he curls his fingers, your back arches, head falling back, you feel the cool steering wheel against you, feel that gearshift shoving against your thigh, but all you can focus on are his eyes. “Want that, sweetheart? Me stretching her out?”

“Please, please - ngh!” Satoru’s curling them up just right in your gummy walls that grip him so good, hitting that spot his long fingers already know, when you eagerly reach down, unbuckling him, shoving his jacket.

“Cum first, then I’ll take it off.” He teases with a little smirk, and you throw your head back, whining and rolling on his hand. “Look at you.”

His husky words of devotion and his fingers hitting that spot again destroy you, you’re weak and whining, a pathetic mess as the orgasm runs through your body. You’re throbbing around nothing when he pulls them out, sucking you off him and moaning before he yanks off his jacket, and the engine hums under you both when you find his cock, biting your lip at the sight of it.

He’s pretty everywhere, of course, tip blushing pink and oozing milky beads of liquid out of it, his veins wrapping, so long, you’re stroking it slowly, from the base to the tip, watching his eyes flutter shut, hearing his whimpers for you. Supermodel, LA manwhore supreme, who’s been with actresses, models, singers, he is just your Satoru right now though.

You lap at his precum off your thumb, the action wrecking him, he’s ripped your panties now, they’re torn from his fervent grip, the sound echoing in the car, that’s when you really feel his strength, as your hands rest on his shoulders, broad and strong under your touch. You look down at the ruined material as he drags your cunt back against him, and you whine out at it.

“Condoms are in the back in a bag,” he murmurs softly, but you’re too lost now. “Sweetheart…”

“Are you good?”

“Squeaky,” he answers softly. “Are you on…”

“Yes.”

He laughs then, softly. “You know how hard it was to get them, now you’re good me fucking raw?”

“Well now I… hush. Just fuck me - ah!” Satoru needs no further urging, he’s picked you up, and slammed you down on his cock in one mean fucking stroke, making you gasp out at it, so full you can’t take it, eyes rolling back.

“God, fuck…. You’re so tight…” he moans, lifting you up and dragging you back down by your hips, your head smacks the roof and he curses, leaning his seat back to recline more, pulling you down with him. “Hang on to me.”

You do just that, clinging to him in the cramped car, when he holds your hips up and slips down in the seat, fucking up into you. “Ah! S-Satoru!” You’re screaming out, thanking god no one was in this parking lot, as he holds you up with those strong hands, pressing kisses to your neck, your cheek, anywhere he can reach, fucking more of his length up in your hole.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he moans now, flipping you before you can blink, lifting a thigh up high and sliding his length back in your cunt, eager and greedy she swallows him, as he stuffs her more and more full. The sounds are filthy, your mind whirling, tummy tensing as he slams his cock deeper, harder. “Never felt anything like you, fuck you take me so well.”

“T-Toru…” You can’t form a proper thought any longer, you’re writhing under him, struggling to take his cock, when his tip kisses your cervix you’re shattering, cumming so hard you can’t see.

“That’s it, cum for me. Just me.” He huffs, feeling you grip and spasm around his thick cock, groaning as he pauses, rolling his hips, letting you ride your orgasm out until you have pretty tears falling from your eyes. “That’s it, you’re so good for me.”

“Toru…” It’s all you can keep murmuring, he lets your thigh fall just a bit as your aftershocks pulse around him, moaning as he leans down, kissing you, drinking in the mix of your tears and your sweet saliva.

Mine.

The thoughts keep swirling in his mind.

Mine, mine, mine. He wants you to be only his.

He doesn’t think he can ever leave, he doesn’t know if he can get on that fucking plane, wait weeks in between seeing you. He’s brushing back your hair as your thighs grip his hips, and you’re clinging to him while he slows his strokes, hands running down your body slowly, lips pressing against yours again, drinking all your moans in. You’re so warm, so wet, so perfect.

You are perfect.

Satoru leans over as he yanks you further up in that laid back leather seat, slamming his cock inside you in a brutal stroke, so good you can’t take it, losing yourself in his ardent kisses, his desperate strokes of his huge cock, stretching your cunt out just for him. Your hands slip under his sweater, nails pressing into his skin and earning a husky groan as he pulls back, tip leaking against your cervix.

“Wanna know how many times I stroked my cock, picturing this?” His words are against your ear, making you tremble as images fill your head, him in his glasses stroking it to you.

“How m-many times?” He groans softly, burying his head against your neck, silky white locks brushing against your cheek, you whine out when you feel him thicken inside of you, so full of him, so much pressure it’s unbearably sweet.

“Every day since I knew how to,” you giggle a bit, breathless, but your cunt is just soaking him more as he pulls back, snowy lashes low over his beautiful eyes as they study you, so bright it’s intense. “I thought of it - ah - so many times. Having you.”

“Live up t-to your… mnh… expec-” He cuts you off with a hard stroke, one that has your mouth open in a slutty O, as you gasp out and he drinks in the sight of you, stroking his thick, veiny cock in you again.

“Couldn’t have imagined how good you feel,” he whispers, your eyes are rolled back in your skull, sweat dripping on your brow from the heat of the car and his body over you. “Nothing feels this good.”

“Toru…” You drag his face down for a kiss, it’s so full of everything you’ve always wanted to say, the fear of losing him and the longing for him, while Satoru’s tongue sweeps inside your mouth, a hand cupping your face.

“Wanna cum inside you, fuck,” he’s whispering, mind short circuiting at having the girl of his teenage dreams under him, but it’s so much more than that. “Fill you up, huh? Bring you back with me?”

“Shh, crazy.” He just whines out when you kiss across his neck, teeth nipping an earlobe, his hand entangles hard at the nape of your neck, the other leaving bruises on your thigh as he fucks so deep. “C-can’t just go.”

“I’ll shove you - ah - in the luggage.” You giggle, as he does, breathless, slowing those strokes and eyeing you with a serious expression then, unreadable. “Can’t just be once.”

You nod nervously, too fucked out to really comprehend the future- unwilling to actually, dragging him back down for his kisses, ones you can’t get enough of, ones you dreamt of. How many days did you look at those plump, glossy lips? How many times did you look at those long, elegant fingers and picture them inside you? That body on top of you?

“T-touched myself to you,” your whisper earns his look of shock, he shakes his head just a bit. A supermodel, still just a little insecure, did he not realize how hot he was then, too?

He feels more human like this, when you brush his cheek, biting your lower lip as he rolls his hips achingly slow, crying out as your walls clench him. “You d-didn’t.”

“Y-yes I did, mnh!” Satoru exhales now, leaning up, so tall his head is right against the hood of the car, when he slips your fingers down between the two of you, right where he’s engulfed in your messy, slick cunt. “Ah!”

“Show me, sweetheart. Wanna see.” You blush so cute he can’t stand it, and he watches your little fingers swirl on your clit, moaning at the sight, making you clench around his cock so tight. Your eyes dilate, lids heavy as you look up at him, crying out as he lifts your hood up, pressing your fingers against your clit more firmly. “Like that, for me?”

“Y-yes, for you. You were hot then, too okay- mmm!” You’re jerking under him, hips bucking up.

“Cum one more time, lemme feel her.” You are already pushed over the edge, when he fucks a mean stroke, his tip slipping against your walls, hitting just that spot as your fingers hit your clit just so, and you’re falling apart. “Beautiful, fuck,” his words barely register, you’re lost in your pleasure, hand falling weakly, only for him to grab your fingers, sucking it into his pouty mouth.

“Please,” you’re whispering, watching him suck your juices off you like he’s starved for you, with eyes that are feral and so bright they’re blinding in the dark little car. “Cum in me.”

He pauses then, and you should question yourself, but all you can think of is how bad you want it inside you. “Y-you sure?” His soft, vulnerable words bring together the two Satorus you know, as he nuzzles your palm, whining out as your walls are pulsing around him.

“I want it, please.” He moans now, slamming his lips against yours, hands gripping your hips and lifting you up, arching your hips so he can hit deeper, bottoming out and stuffing your hole. “Toru!”

“Gonna fill you up so fucking good,” he whispers through his teeth, cock pulsing inside your slutty little hole, balls smacking on your ass, while he holds you pinned like that, thumbs pressing into your pelvis. “Ready, can you take it?”

Your answer is a little nod - how are you expected to talk, head shoved back, neck at the weirdest angle in the car, and Satoru is fucking you so hard you can’t see or think, everything is blurry, swirling. He’s sweating, it makes his pale skin glow with a shimmery sheen as it drips onto you, and you just cling to his waist desperately, gasping as he finally busts.

He’s crying out, whimpering as he cums so deep, filling you - no flooding you - with so much cum it’s ridiculous, you feel the hot spurts of it just gushing, as he finally slows, exhaling and looking right at you. His expression is one of utter devotion, when he eases his hold, slowing and looking down at the twitchy mess your thighs are, while you push cum down his length in swirls of white.

“Fuck, sweetheart, my god…” He’s shaking his head, trying to form a word, while his heart pounds, at the sight of filling you up - something he’s never done, but that he couldn’t imagine not doing with you.

He’d give you three kids and a mansion on the fucking beach if he could just look at you like this again, fucked out and so pretty, whining when he eases his cock out, still mostly hard, squelching sound filling the space. He pushes it back in your slick, tight entrance, groaning at the sight, while you’re fluttering your eyes shut.

“Sore.”

“Shit, sorry,” he pulls out and you wince.

“More sore.” He frowns, inspecting your puffy cunt now, opening your lips to watch his cum pouring out in a creamy white string, making him want to shove it right back inside you, fuck three more loads in, it does something insane to him.

“Was I too rough?” You shake your head, he brushes kisses along your brow as he eases you down just a bit. “You sure? Not enough prep?”

“No I wanted it, just it’s been a long time. I think I have bats in there.” He laughs then, so hard he snorts, bringing you back to your little nerd you loved, and you giggle with him.

“Pussy is elite, bats and cobwebs aside.”

“Hey!” You smack at his chest and he laughs again, cupping your face sweetly. “You were eating those cobwebs last night.”

“They’re yummy cobwebs.”

“Really!” He’s laughing again, and it all hits him suddenly, making him falter, lips pressing together then frowning. You look at him with concern now. “Toru?”

He hasn’t been happy.

He didn’t realize it - laughing and acting a fool, joking around with his colleagues and ‘friends’. Has he ever been happy without you, a free moment, a silly moment? Not comfortable enough with anyone, to do more than make conceited, mocking little comments for shits and giggles, when the girl who loved him all along was left here, the missing piece of him.

You’re what’s always been missing, and he caused it.

“Toru,” you’re murmuring that name, the one only you and his mom call him, it’s how deeply you’re ingrained with his life. How deep a part you are, that he set aside for eight years. “Are you okay? Is it… was this too soon?”

“Too soon?” He laughs without humor, resting his head against yours, sensing your confusion. “Waited my whole life for this moment.”

“Don’t say that, please, it’ll hurt more.” He sighs, eyes shutting, drunk and fucked up off you as he was, the self loathing was eating at him.

“I mean it.” Satoru helps you up, adjusting you carefully, and soon you’re in the passenger seat, a flustered mess.

“You don’t have-”

“I’ve never wanted anyone like you.” You look away nervously, slipping back on your jacket, his cum is hot and sticky and dripping, a feeling you’ve never had before, so intimate you can hardly think properly as he says your name, earning your look, he leans over the center console, long fingers fixing your hair carefully. “Where do we go to sleep tonight? I want to hold you.”

“You do?” He nods, swallowing nervously.

“I can get us a suite, or we can go to my room and snuggle in the twin.” You giggle, shaking your head.

“My room, you haven’t been there in years.” He nods then, and soon the two of you are sneaking in your house, tiptoeing like a couple teenagers, it reminds you of all the nights he used to come sleep over, or when you did, those nights you’d try to drop your hints to your oblivious bestie.

“Will your parents get mad?” He teases, earning your shush as you two head up the stairs, your fingers on your lips.

“They might get very mad, bringing a boy home,” your whisper almost ends him, your fingers now entwined as he follows you, feeling like he’s in a dream again, especially when you open your door, and he sees your room. “It’s the same, too.”

“Shit…” He takes it all in, the Sailor Moon posters all over, pictures decorating a corkboard with little fairy lights, the same white daybed and dresser he always remembers you having. A fluffy rainbow rug that screams you back in high school, little Hello Kitty plushies all along your mattress. “God, nothing changed.”

“No, it’s temporary living here, so. I just got rid of my old clothes though, this ass isn’t getting in those jeans.” He snorts at you, gripping your ass then and making you gasp.

“Yeah, no one is complaining about that, though it was always nice. I know, I studied it carefully.”

“Oh, did you?” You look back at him, while he eyes your reflection in your mirror, and then sees his pictures in the corners, swallowing nervously as he reaches over, brushing his fingers against them.

“You had these on your mirror? You didn’t… take them down when you moved back home?” His voice is hoarse, but you shake your head, leaning over to take off your earrings, feeling the tension in him behind you as you bend over, slipping off your bracelets now, they clink as they hit your little glass tray.

“Why would I? I always missed you.” You hate the emotion in your voice, you try to hide it but fail, as he walks to the corkboard, seeing the endless pictures of the two of you together.

He notices you had other pictures of friends, but Satoru was front and center, braces and glasses next to you - a fucking bombshell in a cheerleader outfit. “You wanted that, huh?” He tenses when you smack his arm, hard.

“Don’t talk shit about him.”

“Him?”

You sigh, walking back over to the dresser now, hands brushing the vintage chalk painted wood softly. “It’s hard to connect you two, sometimes.”

“Yeah,” he touches that cheerleader picture of you now, smiling. “You were always such a perky little thing.”

“Perky huh? I don’t feel perky lately.” You mumble a bit, taking off your heels now, when he walks back toward you.

“You’ve been through a lot.” His voice is a husky caress, brushing your hair to the side now, his hands slipping across your bare skin. “And I wasn’t here.”

“You didn’t even know.” Your eyes catch his reflection of him towering over you, so different from the lanky boy you took selfies with in this very mirror, throwing peace signs and laughing. Now he is grown, buff and so huge behind you, self sure hands dancing across your shoulder blades.

“I should have known. I don’t know how you forgive it all,” he sighs, arm wrapping around your waist now, resting his chin on top of your head. “I am sorry you went through it alone.”

You swipe away tears, it feels so perfect in his arms, you want to forget anything that’s coming when tomorrow is the last night with him. “Unzip me?”

He pauses at your whisper, swallowing nervously. At this point he’s seen most of your body, just not fully, the full picture of you. He unzips you slowly, exposing the smooth expanse of your back inch by inch, sighing as more and more of your skin is revealed, down to those dimples on your back. The backs of his fingers brush against your spine, raising goosebumps as they do.

Your eyes lock again, as you let the dress fall to your feet, and Satoru sees your breasts bounce just slightly as the dress falls, and you step out of it, naked for his hungry gaze. He moans softly, slipping his hands up the curves of your body, the sides of your breasts, squishing them in his huge hands in the mirror, making you gasp, your head falling back against his chest.

“God you’re beautiful,” his words have you flustered, his devoted touches, the way his eyes devour you. “Always have been.”

“Toru…”

“Shh.” He steps back, slipping up his sweater, revealing the thick, corded muscles of his arms, the cuts and lines of his perfect abdomen, the lines of his ribs in your softly lit room, reflecting warm light across the planes of it. You have seen most of him, but when he’s down to his boxers, and you’re about to turn, he halts you. “Keep looking at your pretty face.”

You’re overheated again, when he’s on his knees suddenly, grabbing your ass and yanking it to his face. “Ah!”

“Gonna wake your parents, shh.” He teases, chuckling as he laps at your slit, tip of his tongue sliding from your little clit along your slit, up to your ass, filthy licks and sucks, drinking all his cum out of your hole. You can hardly stand it, arching back against him, seeing your flushed, fucked out face in the mirror as he fucking hums against you.

“Mmm!” You cover your mouth with one hand, leaning over the dresser while he worships your cunt far too thoroughly, slurping sounds as he laps up all the remnants of the load he’d busted, mixing with your sweet arousal gushing. You can’t help but move against his face, feeling his chin press against your clit as his tongue fucks your hole deliciously.

His sounds are ridiculous, only making you wetter, reaching around to grip his hair, eyes rolling back at how good his face feels gliding against your cunt. “Mmm, fuck my face, yes baby,” he’s whispering, hands wrapping your thighs as you arch for him. “Keep looking.”

“C-can’t see… mnh…” You’re done for, vision blackening as he curls that wet muscle up in your walls, which quiver as he drags you further on his face, having you cum, screaming your orgasm into your palm weakly. “T-Toru!”

“Mmm,” he’s sucking each lip with a suctioned pop, coated all over his face in your slick, pressing little kisses as he watches you quiver, feels your legs giving out damn near. He finally stands, lifting one of your knees up over your dresser, the other is dangling hopelessly. “I got you.”

“You’re insane!” He’s just chuckling softly, reaching around to wrap one arm under your breasts, the other around your neck, turning your chin to face the reflection once more.

“Look at yourself,” his whisper tickles your ear, his cock slipping inside you, your eyes threaten to flutter shut, so he squeezes your throat. “Look, baby, look at your beautiful fucking face, how good you’re taking me.”

“Toru…”

“Look,” he orders again, shoving his cock up inside you, your eyes catch sight of your blurry reflection, whining out softly and bracing a hand on the mirror, touching the cool glass as you see your fucked out face. “Beautiful, say it.”

“Mmm…” you’re too lost in pleasure to speak, back arching for more of his cock, when he stretches you back out, moaning behind you, slamming up inside you so hard you fucking fall, but he’s just holding you there, arms wrapped, slamming his cock inside again as your hands grip the dresser for some sense of balance. “Satoru!? You can’t just hold me in the air!”

“Sure can, what you scared baby? I got you.” He grins like a psycho now, burying his face against your neck as he fucks into you from the back, your thighs pressing together as you lose yourself completely.

“Put me down, shit,” you’re freaking out being manhandled by this huge man, he laughs softly, placing you down on your bed, it creaks under his heavy weight, he leans over you then, lifting your thigh and laughing again. “You’re so psycho, Hollywood has you insane!?”

“Not used to being tossed around?” He murmurs now, all conceited, but he’s also sweet as he lifts your thigh again, pressing his cock into you as you catch your breath, arms wrapping his neck, fingers carding through his hair.

“Cobwebs and bats.” You whisper teasingly, he moans then, pressing a kiss along your cheek, forehead, your eyes that flutter shut, watching you whine out, back arching up.

“Feel okay, too sore?” He murmurs softly, attentive in his study as you hiss just a bit.

“I’m good, I want this,” he exhales as your words reassure him, and the two of you lose yourself in the bed. He's slow and gentle this time, so the bed doesn’t make the most obnoxious noises. “I want you.”

“I want you.” His fingers entwine, and your eyes lock together when he brings you there again, the intimacy of the moment is so much it’s beautiful then, a mix of filthy and wanton but also beautiful. He’s beautiful, over you, sinking so deep, his lips and fingers anywhere they can reach. “Wanna fill you again.”

“Want you to fill me.” He moans, filling your cunt to the brim again, pulsing so deep inside you as your walls spasm around him, like she’s milking him for all he’s got, while he loses himself in you.

Your scent, your taste, the feel of you, all his senses consumed - your beauty, your sounds, your pulse thudding quickly under his thumb as he pins your wrists up over your head, continuing to fuck his cum deeper inside you. You’re sobbing quietly from your orgasms, your mouth quivering as it meets his every kiss, in the quiet of your room scattered with memories of you both.

When he finally pulls out he’s littering your body with kisses, little apologies whispered everywhere he sees a mark, as if he’s not more than happy to leave marks, little bites all over your collarbone, finger marks bruising your thighs. He hates how good it makes him feel, that if someone came near you they would know you’re his.

Are you his?

The reality is trying to crash into his mind, to sober the beautiful moment, you’re brushing his hair back and he looks up to see they’re fucking with you too.

“I still have the yearbook,” you say softly, he sighs now, sitting up and pulling you to sit with him. “What you wrote? It was beautiful.”

“I remember every word,” he says softly, pulling you against his chest. “I want to be in our own little world, just me and you.”

“Y-yes.” Your tears brush against his neck as the fan overhead tries to cool you both down unsuccessfully. “You said you loved me.”

“I know.”

“Then you said… you didn’t mean it.”

“I know.” He sighs, cupping your face, swallowing with a dry throat, seeing your eyes that night in his head. “I was so embarrassed, I was so scared, but I never let you know - I meant them all. Every word then.”

Was it high school love? Puppy love? - Your mind races, wondering where the two of you stand.

Was this just a beautiful night? Was this another snow globe of you two, about to get shaken up with reality?

There is a knock at the door then, and you quickly dress, Satoru laughs softly as you shove a blanket over him when he throws on his boxers. You walk over to the door, and it’s your mom. “Mom… hey?”

“Oh, Satoru is…” She clears her throat now, when Satoru awkwardly waves, then looks back at you, and you blush furiously. “I thought you were… upset?”

“No, no. Not upset.”

“Well this is awkward.”

“Yep!” Your mom laughs softly, concern lacing her gaze with equal amounts of awkwardness, brushing a lock of your hair back.

“We didn’t know he came to stay too. Satoru, you need some clothes?”

“Yes please?” She heads out and you exhale, covering your face when Satoru chuckles. “You’re twenty six.”

“I know!? But still!” You soon bring him a pair of your dad’s clothes, luckily he’s pretty tall so they decently fit, though the shirt is almost a crop top, making you giggle as you see it. “Now this would be hot as a magazine cover.”

The words are lighthearted, but the deeper reality sets in. He takes the shirt off, smiling a bit. “The pants work.”

“Perfect.” Soon you’re in his arms, the second night in a row.

Was this a beautiful memory?

If you could, you’d stay there forever.

“What time do you leave?” You ask softly, looking back now, his eyes glint in the dark, moonlight streaming in gently.

“I won’t know yet, but it will not be forever. My schedule is super flexible, and I have plenty of money. It's not like I can’t get right on a plane.” Your lips falter a bit. You teach part time, work at the bar part time, in search of a better opportunity for now.

But how would you fit in his life, and would he really want you to when he goes back home?

“Sweetheart, I swear I won’t just disappear.” You put on a smile, kissing him and letting him hold you.

“My feet are cold,” you tease, he chuckles then, tugging you against him, wrapping a leg around you and letting you put your feet on his legs then. “That was what I was going for.”

“You really do have cold feet, ah.” You giggle again, the feeling far, far too perfect, but the gnawing ache in your heart won’t go away.

Would he want you when he went back to the glamour?

You drift to sleep, and Satoru hears your heavy breaths, dreading the moment he had to remove himself from this day bed too damn small for him, the peace and perfection of holding you in his arms. He gently recites the words he wrote all those years ago in your yearbook, stroking your hair like it’s a little bedtime story, until he drifts next to you.

The room is peaceful and quiet as different versions of Satoru and you coexist, smiling pictures of your childhood, awkward middle school photos, high school ones where you can clearly see the changes, and now the two of you - adults. Different worlds, holding each other in the night, not wanting to let go.

I got so into this one I rly hope you all enjoyed it :')

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fushigurhoez · 4 months ago

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𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 - 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐕𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆!

ft. satoru gojo, suguru geto, toji fushiguro, ryomen sukuna

inc: allusions to multiple rounds, breeding kink, unprotected sex, irresponsible behavior, scent kink, reader is down BAD, manhandling, overstimulation, dry humping, mating press, cervix fucking? sukuna is his own warning, (degradation + dehumanization in his) true form heian era!kuna, sukuna’s stomach mouth, age gap between toji and reader bc duh (38/19+)

𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨-

Gojo couldn’t help but feel like something was different about you. No, he knew something was different about you. But he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. You seemed to be…craving his presence more than usual, and that was saying something given his own level of clingy-ness. He didn’t want to make any assumptions as to what could be going on, chalking it up to you just missing him due to the recent influx of assignments he’d been tasked with. But as you both sat on the couch partaking in your weekly tradition of movie night, it seemed like you were more interested in him than whatever was on the screen. Rom-com? Horror maybe? You wouldn’t know. You had abandoned your spot on the couch in favor of his lap, which was fine and not inherently unusual. Except your face was tucked into his neck, leaving hot kisses on his smooth skin while your legs entrapped him like a damn boa constrictor. “B-baby” he reasoned earning a simple “hm?” from you, and he swears you wrapped your legs tighter. “Can you even see the movie?” He asked and you finally pulled back, quirking a brow at him. “I don’t really care about the movie toru.” And then your lips were back on him, sucking on the spot under his ear.

“But you’ve been talking about—shit—about this movie for weeks?” His breath hitched in his throat, hands coming to rest on your waist in order to ground himself and his focus so he could try and understand you.

“I’m more interested in you right now, toru.” You grind down in his lap, clothed center pressed to the semi-hard bulge in his pajama pants and his eyes widen, the hold on your waist becoming tighter. “baby, we just had sex this morning?” And while he wasn’t complaining that you wanted him, he was confused to say the least. You were fairly inexperienced compared to him so your stamina wasn’t exactly adequate for more than one round just yet.

“I’m ovulating, satoru” you explained, picking up on his confusion. For someone with six eyes he could be oblivious at times. “I need you to fuck me again.” You whisper in his ear like it’s a secret and he doesn’t need to look to know that he’s rock hard now. Your grinding has gotten more desperate, barely stopping long enough for you to slip one of your eager hands into his pants and underneath his briefs, savoring how hot and heavy he was in your palm.

“Fuck baby, okay. Let me eat you out first, yeah?” He moved to lay you back but you stopped him, pushing him back against the couch and grabbing one of his hands, forcing it into your panties and he almost moaned at the slickness that covered his fingers.

“Don’t need it.” You rasped, pulling him out of his pants and sliding your underwear to the side, positioning his glistening tip to your wet vagina. His hands slid down and held your hips in place, stopping you from dropping down on him and you whined. You fucking whined because he wouldn’t let you sink his cock into you already.

“If you’re ovulating we should really use a condom baby” he tried to be the voice of reason but you weren’t hearing him, the only thing in your head was getting him inside you.

“Don’t want that, wanna feel you without it” you said as though it was perfectly understandable, paying no mind to the stunned look on his face.

“Satoru, please. It hurts” and just like that, all logic was lost in his mind, taking his hands off your hips and throwing them over the couch behind him lazily.

“Fine, but you’re doing all the work.”

And work you did, spearing yourself down on him in one go, ignoring the slight burn you felt as your hole stretched around him. You didn’t take any time to adjust, taking the pleasure with the pain as your arms slung themselves around his shoulders, bouncing up and down on his cock, but it wasn’t enough. You planted your feet on the couch on either side of him in a squat position, hoisting yourself up until only his tip was nestled inside you before slamming down on his dick, eliciting what just might have been the hottest fucking groan from him. His big hands flew to your ass, squeezing it and spreading you open so that he could somehow get deeper inside you.

“Oh my fucking god baby, fuck!” He grunted, crudely planting his feet on the coffee table and thrusting up into you just as you fucked down on him, meeting you in the middle. So much for making you do all the work.

𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨-

Geto sighed as he jammed the key into the lock of the apartment, soreness from his session at the gym already setting in. He locks the door behind him and sets his gym bag on the island in the kitchen, removing his headphones from around his neck and setting them down just as he feels arms wrap around his waist and a soft body pressed flush to his back. He looks over his shoulder with a gentle smile.

“Hey love.” You stand on the tips of your toes, arms tightening around him as you kiss him hello. His abs are firm under your fingers, the thin cotton T-shirt doing nothing to soften their definition. He can barely pull away from the kiss to ask you how your day was before your lips are on his again and he lets out a surprised chuckle, turning around in your embrace to snake his strong arms around your waist. Your tongue ghosts over his bottom lip and he lets you in, turning his head to the side the slot your lips closer together as you moan into his mouth, something you’re normally shy about doing. He tries to pull away again, but your lips follow his like he’s trying to take away your oxygen. You arch into his hold, breasts crushed to his hard chest. He pulls away again, nipping at your now swollen bottom lip as a warning not to follow.

“..I take it someone missed me.” He says, and it’s not a question..he can tell. You’re breathing heavier than usual, your body is still glued to his and you’re looking at him like it’d be a betrayal for him to let you go.

“mhm” you nod and that shyness he knows all too well rears its head, in the form of you hiding your face in his chest. At least that’s what he thought you were doing. He kisses the top of your head, hand caressing your back under his shirt that you had stolen.

“I know you need me, but I have to shower my love.”

“N-no!” You quickly protest, surprising him yet again when your hands grip his shirt even though he hadn’t made any efforts to leave.

“No?” He laughed and it rumbled in his chest. “I’m all sweaty though”

“like the way you smell.” You admit, and he suddenly understands why you’ve been nuzzling your nose into his chest.

“Is that so?” He teases, his hand creeping under the oversized shirt you were wearing to cup your hot cunt through your panties. The fabric was soaked and sticky with your arousal.

“Y-yes. I really like it sugu.” He hums.

“I believe you sweet girl.”

you hiss when he bunches them up in his hand, pulling on the front of your panties, the crotch of them sinking between your puffy lips, into your slit and applying pressure to your aching clit. Your hands fly to his arms, steadying yourself as you stand on the tips your toes again trying to escape the way he practically flosses your pussy with your own panties. He stares down into your eyes before he releases them and you sigh in relief, though your insatiable cunt craves for him to do it again.

“Please suguru..please.” You beg, tears burning at the edge of your lash line and he coos.

“You’re so needy, baby. What are you even asking me for?” He drives his hips forward, knocking yours back into the counter and it might have hurt had you not been so focused on the outline of his cock against you. He was so hard, you could imagine how good he would feel inside you—

“I asked you-“ he pulled his hips back suddenly, his hand pulling your panties up between your dripping slit again but harder this time, making you cry out. “—a question”

He kissed you, swallowing your sounds as he shifted your panties back n forth over your clit, the slightly rough texture of the intricate lace making your legs quiver. He shook his wrist quickly, still holding your underwear tight against your clit, showing no mercy and it almost felt like he was vibrating. He pulls away from your lips chuckling at the way your mouth opened in a wide ‘o’ nails digging into his biceps as you came, moaning his name loudly. You sob when he doesn’t stop, clawing at his wrist as a silent plea for him to stop. He finally lets go, grabbing one of your arms and manhandling you over the counter, face pressed to the cold marble before he’s tearing your panties down your legs groaning at the clear mess all over your pussy and inner thighs.

“You wanna tell me what has you this fucking worked up?” He asks, unable to resist slapping your ass. You gasp and his dick twitches in his pants at the way the fat wobbles under the palm of his hand.

“I’m ovulating..”

It was that sentence that got you bent over and fucked on the kitchen counter.

𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢 𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨-

“Ow!” You cry, hand reaching back to pull Toji’s hand away from your ass, which was now stinging after how hard he smacked it. “Toji that hurt!”

“Quit your whinin’. Told you to stop moving.” He said indifferently, continuing what he was doing on his phone. His arms were wrapped around your waist, eyes peering over your shoulder at his phone as the two of you laid in bed.

“Sorry. I’d hate to distract you while you text your other bitches.” You mumble into his neck as you lay on his chest. He cuts his eyes at you, winding his hand back to smack your ass again and you squeal, laughing as you grab his hand midair, lacing your small fingers with his. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding!”

He glares at you for a bit longer, his gaze holding no real annoyance before he shakes his head and goes back to texting shiu. You adjust yourself in his lap, untangling your legs from his in favor of straddling him. You move your hips and toji thinks you’re just trying to get comfortable, arm tightening around your waist to keep you still. A few quiet minutes pass by before you start to rock in his lap, trying to be sneaky about it. Toji sighs in agitation, thumb hovering over his phone screen mid-text.

“Y/n”

You don’t respond, kissing his neck almost as if trying to distract him from what you were doing. He buries his hand in your hair, grabbing a fistful and pulling your head out of his neck, an unimpressed look on his face.

“What..the fuck are you doing.” He asks, truly tired. Tired of your shit.

“I’m horny.” You say shamelessly and he thinks back to the start of your relationship, when you shyly asked him to take your virginity. What had he done?

“Of course you are. I’m busy right now.” He said flatly, going back to his conversation. You groaned as though you had been wounded, face planting dramatically into the pillow his head was resting on.

“You need to get busy with this pussy.” You mutter, but with how close you were to his ear you might as well have just said it out loud.

Toji scoffs incredulously, pulling on your hair again to get you to look at him, those jade eyes you love so much piercing through you.

“The fuck did you just say?” He wanted to laugh. You had never, ever been this straightforward with him.

“You heard me.” You doubled down and he couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. You had a challenging look on your face as though you were daring him to do something about the way you had just spoken to him.

“You look real proud of yourself doll, it’s cute.” He said and your face fell, making him smile fully at your defeat, canines gleaming and making you wonder what it’d be like to feel them sink into your neck, or maybe your breast..

“you’re ovulating. I told you i’m not fucking you until you’re done.”

“Excuses, excuses. If you can’t keep up with me, then just say that old man.”

You’d really gone and done it now. Toji raised his brows at you briefly before sighing and tossing his phone somewhere on the bed. He pushed you off of him harshly and you fell back onto the bed, bouncing slightly. He got off the bed, grabbing your ankles and dragging you down to the edge making you let out a surprised squeak as he reached under the shirt of his you were wearing and snatched your panties down your legs, scoffing at how wet and slimy they were in the middle. He undid the drawstring on his sweatpants, dropping them to his feet and you could feel that familiar heartbeat inside of you at the sound and sight of his cock slapping his lower abdomen. He got on the bed again, pushing your legs up to your chest and you gasped.

“T-toji, foreplay?” You asked, suddenly scared and he shook his head as he rubbed the thick head of his cock through your syrupy folds, bumping into your sensitive clit. “You don’t need it.” And then he sunk into you in one thrust, pushing your legs up even further, beside your head and you screamed at the way his cock head grazed over your gspot and then kissed your cervix, which was more sensitive due to you ovulating. Your hand pushed at his tummy, trying to put some distance between him and you and he didn’t bother moving it, just fucked you harder, faster. “Don’t fucking run from it.” He groaned, feeling himself deep inside of you and if he could somehow stuff his balls in too then he probably would.

“And don’t come crying to me when you don’t get your period next month either.”

𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚

Sukuna couldn’t take it anymore. It was uncharacteristic of him to stop a task before finishing, to neglect whatever duties that fit into his schedule as a king. But how could he focus on the construction plans for the estate when you clearly needed him? He had sensed it this morning in the way that you clung to him as he was getting out of bed, like you didn’t want him to leave. Not that that was out of the ordinary for you, he had come to accept that you were extraordinarily clingy. But your hold on him felt more needy, like you were desperate for something. Along with your displeasure with his departure, there has been a sickeningly sweet smell following him, tormenting him briefly before dispersing like it was never even there. He had brushed it off, having more pressing matters to attend to around the estate and it had been hours since then. He ceases his contemplation, standing up from the end of the table as the eyes of his servants stare at the ground, not daring to follow his movements.

“Uruame, see to it that this is done adequately. There’s something else that requires my attention.”

“Yes my lord.”

He enters his quarters, not finding you in your usual place on his throne, so he makes his way to your shared bedroom. There is no sign of you except your night attire folded on your side of the bed. He can feel the steamy drifting under the door and hears the sound of the bath turning off, so he loosens his robe revealing his tattooed chest before he sits on his side of the bed awaiting your emergence.

You open the door and sigh in relief at the feeling of cool air on your warm skin, tightening the towel around your body. You tense when you register Sukuna’s presence, deep red eyes trained on you almost suspiciously. He’s staring you down, observing you. You relax, walking towards the bed with your hand holding the top of the towel secure to your body. “Can I help you my lord.” You ask and he growls low in his throat, because you only ever call him that when you’re being a smartass. He grabs your wrist, pulling it away from your chest and he towers over you despite being sat.

“Do not play coy. You’ve some nerve playing this game with me woman.” You tilt your head at him subconsciously.

“As much as I adore trolling you kuna, I’m not sure what you mean.”

He lets go of your wrist and brings you closer to him, pulling you to stand between his legs and your hands steady themselves on his shoulders as you stand there awkwardly with his large hand on your waist. He growls again when that damn smell invades his nose again, only this time it’s stronger. He’s nosing down the side of your neck, and the smell of your shampoo is there too but it’s weak in comparison to the other scent. It’s a heady, musky type of scent with a sweetness that can only be described as alluring. So enticing that he had to abandon all his responsibilities for the day to follow it. His head moves lower, nose trailing down your chest until he reaches your towel. You try and hold his head, hands pulling on his pink hair but he doesn’t stop his descent down your body, his keen nose leading him to the spot between your thighs, where he spends most of his nights. You grip his hair tighter, trying to push him away bashfully when he inhales greedily.

“S-Sukuna! What are you—“ he switches places with you, and suddenly you’re lying back on the bed while his four arms cage you in underneath him.

“Hush, woman. Why didn’t you tell me you needed my attention this morning?”

You look away from him in embarrassment but he’s having none of it, forcefully tilting your face back to him with a single finger.

“dunno what you’re talking about.” You lie and he hums unconvinced.

“I can smell your arousal, it’s strong today.. you needed me then, and you need me now, so why are you not voicing your requirements?”

“I wasn’t about to keep you from your work just because I’m ovulating, kuna.” He doesn’t say anything, looking down at you slightly displeased.

You’re about to speak again when you feel something that you quickly recognize as his stomach tongue, hot and wet sliding up your slit, eagerly lapping up your slick. He sees the way your thoughts leave you when he puts his tongue on you, fucking it into you and licking you out, before twirling the tip of it over your sensitive clit. You can’t help but spread your legs for more and he can’t contain his excitement and curiosity about your body in this state, ripping the flimsy white towel off of your body and throwing it behind him as if it were trash.

“Explain this “ovulation” to me at once” he demands, not letting up on your weeping pussy to allow you to speak. You know it’s because he enjoys watching you struggle around your words, when you’re normally so bold without any hesitation over that mouth of yours.

“my body w-wants a baby, so it makes me—fuck! it makes me feel..” the word lingers at the tip of your tongue but the tip of Sukuna’s tongue is still twirling over your clit, working you up further.

“makes you feel horny? desperate to keep me in bed all day so I can give you both of my cocks? hm? breed you nice n full like a proper bitch?”

“Yes kunaaa, mm fuck!” His words are enough to make your eyes roll back into your head, convulsing as you cream all over the fat tongue devouring your pussy. You shake slightly, even after your orgasm and the mouth on his stomach licks the remnants of your orgasm off his lower abdomen greedily before sealing shut.

“Very well then, present yourself to me.”

Your fucked out brain has a hard time computing his words as you watch him undo his robe the rest of the way, revealing his cocks.

“w-what?” You ask and he sits up on the bed, freeing you from his weight and giving you room to move.

“If it’s a baby that your body desires that’s what i shall give. I said present yourself to me. I won’t ask again.”

You shakily move to position yourself on all fours, arms wobbling as you hold your upper body up and he laughs humorlessly.

“you’re asking me to give you my seed, and that’s the best you can do?” He presses the head of one of his dicks to your hole and it flutters at the anticipation of being stuffed.

You drop your shoulders down on the bed, back bent in a deep arch, as you wiggle your ass at him shamelessly.

“Please kuna.” You beg helplessly and you can hear how pleased he is in his tone.

“Good bitch.”

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pretentious-blonde · 5 months ago

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jealous much?

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: steve may not be the jealous type, but when he sees someone else eyeing his girl, he’s more than happy to remind you exactly who takes care of you the best

warnings: 18+ this is smut, filth with feelings, depictions of sex, p in v, fingering, manhandling, steve being a cocky little shit, lots and lots of aftercare because how could i not???

a/n: to the anon(s) that told me they wanted steve to be a bit harsher, i gotchu <3 pt. 6 but can be read as a standalone!!

series masterlist

Steve’s bedroom was always comfortably cluttered—movie tickets scattered on the nightstand, a lone shirt draped over the desk chair, and a rumpled blanket that smelled faintly of his cologne. You loved it here. Loved being with him here. The two of you were sprawled across his bed, legs tangled, currently discussing the goings-on with the people in Hawkins.

He always had a soft spot for scandal, unable to shake his love for idle gossip. He kept up with every whisper in the school hallways—a habit that only worsened once he gained access to the town’s personal archive of movie choices.

Dangerous information for him to have, truly.

“You should’ve seen what Keith has been checking out lately,” he said, propping himself up on his elbow, eyes bright. “Nothing but straight rom-coms. He thinks we don’t notice—‘cause, y’know, he does it on his own time—but Rob went snooping through the store’s computer system.”

“No way. Keith?” You snorted. “I thought he was into those art-house horror flicks or those silent German ones.”

“Right?” Steve agreed with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “We’re putting money on him having a girlfriend. That would explain why he’s been giving us both more hours lately—guy’s gotta prioritise his love-life, you know?”

“Huh,” you mused, nudging his knee with yours. “So he finally snagged a girl?”

“That’s the theory,” he affirmed, voice dropping conspiratorially. “Now we just gotta figure out who it is. Or corner him into telling us.”

You giggled, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Well, I’m sure that won’t take long. Keith has never been good at subtlety.”

“Kinda jealous he’s the one who arranges the schedule, though.” He hummed, shifting closer until you could feel the warmth of his breath on your hair. “Means I gotta argue with him if I want a full weekend off.”

“You poor thing,” you teased, tapping his chest. “I can always come hang out if you get stuck working. Keep you company.”

He brightened. “Yeah?”

“Totally,” you said smiling. “I don’t mind. I'm very entertaining.”

“Well, does that mean when I get a weekday off, I can come crash your work?” he asked, waggling his brows. “I look great in a tie.”

You eyed him skeptically, but there was no denying he’d look downright mouthwatering in a suit. All done up, weaving through your office like he owned the place—it made your insides curl.

He’d probably climb the ladder faster than you, effortlessly charming his way to the top. It was unfair how charismatic he could be, even without trying.

“I wish you could.” You groan, getting your mind out of the gutter. “It’d make the day go so much faster.”

"I’d be the perfect intern," he agreed, "I could grab the coffee for a change—plus,” a playful smile tugs at his lips as he gazes down at you, “I already know exactly how you like it."

You laughed, then shrugged. “Actually, you wouldn’t have to run for coffee now. We got a new hire last week—Ryan, I think his name is? He’s younger, maybe by a year or so, but super eager. I’ve been showing him around, finally getting some of the stress off my plate.”

His expression changed with a touch of curiosity or perhaps just a pang of protectiveness—but it settled quickly into genuine affection. He reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face.

“You looking out for him, angel?”

“Yeah—well, I mean—” A flush crept up your cheeks. “I would’ve liked if someone had done that for me when I started, you know? Don’t want him to feel overwhelmed by everything.”

He almost melted as those words left your lips, loving the flustered look on your face when he praised you.

God, you’re too sweet for your own good sometimes.

You snuggled closer and let out a yawn, feeling his arm tighten around you in a gentle hug as you hid your face in his chest.

“Alright,” he said, clearing his throat as he glanced at the clock on his desk. “Come on sleepyhead. You’ve got an early morning, gotta get some rest."

You groaned dramatically. “Ugh, don’t remind me.”

“Hey,” he offered with a warm smile, “want me to drive you? I’ve got tomorrow off so it’s really no trouble.”

“Honestly, it’s fine.” You shook your head tiredly. “Have a lie-in for once, you deserve it. Besides, you’re picking me up after work anyway, right?”

A lazy, content grin spread across his face.

“Yeah, yeah. Alright,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss you—slow and sweet. “Come on, sweetheart. Bedtime.”

Steve insisted on seeing you off that morning, even when you tried to do the nice thing and let him sleep in.

He woke up with you anyway. It baffled you how he could sleep through his own alarm but miraculously rise at the first buzz of yours. Even when you tried to turn it off and sneakily creep around his room without rousing him, your efforts were futile.

He followed you downstairs and sipped the coffee he brewed for you both at the kitchen counter, watching while you tugged on your office blazer, making sure your hair was just right in the reflection of the hall mirror.

It made him grin stupidly, watching you hustle around in your formal attire—his career girl.

He couldn’t help himself. He’d pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead at his doorstep before you left, telling you to “knock ‘em dead.” Which earned him a huff from you.

He was far too corny in the morning for your liking.

Only when your car was out of sight did he head back inside, now all glum that he had to entertain himself for the rest of the day.

He spent his time alone doing errands—laundry, a quick trip to the grocery store, all while counting down the hours till he could swing by your office.

It wasn’t pathetic, but he’d be the first to admit he was maybe a little too eager. Then again, he’d found his person, and he figured it wasn’t a crime to want every spare minute with you.

When the time finally came, he pulled up outside the Hawkins Post, scanning the pavement for your familiar silhouette.

He spotted you laughing with someone—the new hire, must be, he deduced as he took in the guy’s slightly younger appearance and the way he stood just a bit too close to you for his liking. His fingers tightened around the steering wheel as he examined him further.

Great. Of course he’s hot.

You glanced up just then, beaming at the sight of the familiar BMW. After a quick word to your coworker—who, he noted—looked decidedly unhappy as he caught Steve’s eye.

You bounded over to the passenger seat as he gave the guy a little wave, more smug than polite, and felt a twist of satisfaction when the guy’s scowl deepened.

You slid into the seat, barely getting the door shut before he leaned in over the console to kiss you—deep and warm, with a hint of urgency that made your pulse skip. You let out a surprised hum but quickly relaxed into it, hand coming up to rest on his cheek.

“What was that for?” You pulled back, blinking at him.

He shrugged, eyes flicking past you to the figure still hovering on the pavement.

“Nothing,” he said, casual as can be. “Just missed you, that’s all.”

He caught your colleague staring and resisted the urge to smirk openly.

Gotcha.

You huffed a playful laugh, still a little breathless. “Well, I’m not complaining.”

“Ready to go?” Steve asked, turning the key in the ignition. You nodded, and he eased the car into the street. “Oh—there are M&Ms in the glove box. Grabbed 'em for you.” He added, remembering picking them up at the store earlier. Knowing you’d appreciate it.

“Ugh, you’re the best, you know that?” you said, popping open the compartment and grabbing the bag, eagerly tearing through the plastic.

He glanced sideways, a small, satisfied grin tugging at his lips. Holding out his hand, he waited as you handed him a few—only fair, after all.

Because, yeah, he is the best.

Damn right.

And he’s glad you think so too.

Dinner had wrapped up at your flat, the remnants of takeaway containers still on the coffee table, but neither of you paid them much mind. You were curled up with him on the couch, your legs draped over his lap as you recounted every last detail of your day—he hung onto each word like it was the most important news in the world.

Well, more important to him than the news you printed, anyway.

“And,” you said, voice cracking with excitement, “they’re finally letting me write my own story! The whole thing, just me.”

His grin was instant, radiant enough to outshine the lamp in the corner. Pure happiness poured from him as he watched you speak, your joy lighting up the room.

There wasn’t a trace of resentment—just pride, just excitement, just you.

He was every bit as thrilled as you were, because he knew how hard you’d worked to get here. And now, seeing it all finally pay off, he couldn’t have been prouder of you.

“That’s incredible, honey,” he said truthfully. “Seriously, can’t wait to read it. What’s it gonna be about?”

You shrugged, flustered and thrilled all at once. “I have so many ideas—I haven’t decided yet.”

“Well, whatever you choose, I’m first in line for a sneak peek.” He draped an arm behind you on the couch, giving you a playful nudge. “You gonna let me see the first draft?”

“Nope.” You snorted. “You have to wait until it’s printed, just like everyone else. No boyfriend privileges here.”

“What?” He let out a mock-offended huff. “I’m supposed to wait for the issue like the rest of town? Come on you gotta give me, like, a preview or something.”

“Alright, alright,” you conceded, stifling a laugh at his dramatic pout. “Let me get changed first, and then maybe we can brainstorm together, okay?”

He leaned back, playful grin returning. “But I like the corporate look.”

“Yeah, well, now you get the pajama look,” you countered, sticking your tongue out as you got up.

He watched you walk off, fondness swelling in his chest. He’d never get tired of that view—hair done up from a day at the office, blouse slightly rumpled from a long day’s work.

You disappeared into your bedroom, leaving him alone on the couch. He let out a contented sigh, kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

With a lazy flick of the remote, he turned up the volume on the TV, barely sparing it a glance. What you wore didn’t matter to him—truth be told, he loved you just as much in cosy attire as in your best dressed-up look.

Comfort suited you, and therefore suited him just fine.

Not even a minute after your departure, the phone rang—a jarring, tinny sound that made him glance over his shoulder. It only rang twice before he heard your cheerful voice answer in the bedroom.

His ears perked up. He couldn’t help it—he was nosey.

Sue him.

Muting the TV, he angled his head to listen, as your muffled giggle drifted through the space.

“No, seriously, don’t worry about it,” you said. “He doesn’t need it until Monday—promise.”

He rose from the couch, moving quietly toward your slightly ajar door. He caught a glimpse of you standing by your chest of drawers, one hand on your hip, the other clutching the receiver. He couldn’t quite make out every expression with your back turned, but your tone was friendly, warm, comfortable.

An unwelcome pang of jealousy flared in his chest, though he quickly reminded himself that you love him, you’ve talked about this, he trusts you.

Still, he couldn’t resist sidling closer.

“Yeah, don’t listen to what he said,” you continued, your tone soothing. “He’s all talk, trust me.”

He inched into the room, sliding his arms around your waist from behind and nuzzling his face against your neck. Your skin was still warm and you let out a tiny squeak of surprise, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned into him.

He inched down to whisper in your free ear, low and soft.

“Who is it?”

Turning to him, you quickly covered the receiver with your palm. “Ryan,” you mouthed.

Ryan. Right. Great.

He rolled his eyes a little, then brushed a slow kiss on the side of your neck.

“Call him tomorrow, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice playful but filled with an undercurrent of impatience.

You already spent the whole day with the guy, and now he's calling you? Even when he saw him pick you up? It didn’t take a genius to figure out you had other plans, and the thought nudged at him uncomfortably.

You shook your head in exasperation, though you were smiling. He continued to nuzzle you, pressing you gently forward until your back arched at the contact.

“Leave work at the door,” he teased, fingers pressing slightly into your waist.

You exhaled a soft laugh and brought the phone back to your ear. “Hey, Ryan? I’ll, uh, I’ll just swing by the office a bit earlier tomorrow if you need anything else, okay? … Yeah, no worries, meet you outside. Bye.”

You placed the handset back in the cradle and turned fully to face your boyfriend, still in your work clothes, not yet changed.

Crossing your arms, you fixed him with a look, and he couldn’t help but smirk, already anticipating the playful scolding coming his way. But all he could focus on was you—standing there in your blouse and slacks, looking far too damn sweet for him to take even the slightest bit seriously.

“Feeling needy, huh?” you asked, tilting your head.

He let out an incredulous huff, the corner of his mouth tugging upward.

“What? Couldn’t he have waited till tomorrow? I mean… come on. He could have talked to you anytime today.”

You shrugged. “I did tell him he could call if he had any questions.”

He snorted, stepping closer, fingers trailing gently along your waist.

“Questions, huh?”

“Questions,” you confirmed, heart skipping a beat at the intent look in his eyes.

His touch lingered, a tiny spark of possessiveness flickering behind his eyes. Then the realisation seemed to strike. You saw it—the slight tightening of his jaw, the faint furrow between his brows. It made you bite your cheek to stop from letting a giggle slip.

“Wait a second,” you said, holding back a smile. “Steve, are you… are you jealous?”

“What? No.” He shifted, clearing his throat. “Absolutely not.”

“You so are,” you pressed, delighting in the way his nose scrunched ever so slightly.

“Sweetheart,” he warned, voice dipping lower, “I’m not.”

You only giggled, emboldened by the rosy flush creeping into his cheeks, wanting to push his buttons just a little.

“Aw, you think I’d ever pick him over you?”

Something sparked in his eyes, a confident glint that made your stomach flutter.

“Oh, honey,” he purred, “I know you wouldn’t pick him over me.”

You couldn’t resist teasing him one step further.

“Oh, well…” you sighed, letting the words trail with a mischievous lilt, “I’m not quite sure. I mean, he knows my coffee order too, you know.”

The air shifted—his hand slid up your torso in one smooth motion, fingertips barely brushing the exposed skin of your collarbone before settling at the base of your throat.

His palm rested there, thumb gently grazing your quickening heartbeat as he angled your chin up to face him.

“You wanna finish that thought, sweetheart?” he murmured, voice low enough to send a tremor through you.

You swallowed, a sudden dryness in your throat. He smirked, clearly relishing your hesitation.

“Didn’t think so,” he whispered, brushing his lips fleetingly against the corner of your mouth before pulling back.

Your heart pounded, body already hyper-aware of each place he touched you. You wondered if he could feel the way your pulse had sped up beneath his hand—because from the triumphant gleam in his eye, it was clear he knew precisely what kind of effect he had on you.

When his fingers trailed beneath your collar again, you shivered, and the reaction only seemed to spur him on.

“Think I’m jealous, baby?” His mouth hovered just above yours, teasing, refusing to close the distance.

When you leaned in, he pushed back just enough to make you wait, to make you listen.

"Need me to show you how well I take care of you?” His other palm slid against your lower back, holding you flush against him. “Can’t have you forgetting, can we?"

The way he was looking at you, like he dared you to argue.

His eyes were locked on yours, hungry and unapologetically smug, as he backed you against the counter. Waiting for the subtle nod of your head to tell him to continue.

His fingers fiddled with the button of your trousers, and you could practically feel his heart racing in sync with your own.

“H-haven’t forgotten,” you managed to stutter out, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

He cocked a brow as he paused his motions, leaning in until his breath fanned over your lips.

“You sure? The way you were talking—almost like you need a reminder.” A slow, dangerous smile tugged at his mouth. “And you know how much I love proving my point.”

You swallowed hard. You did know—Steve was stubborn as hell, and once he made up his mind, there was no talking him down.

You’d learned that the very first time you hung out with him—he spent a whole hour building you that damned bookshelf that was wedged in the corner of your living room, refusing to even let you help him carry it up the stairs. All in an effort to prove himself to you.

And by the way he was acting, he was determined to prove himself again.

“Say the word, baby, and I’ll stop.” He tells you earnestly, as his brown eyes search your face.

He would stop in an instant if you told him to, but the way you're looking at him tells him you won’t. Something tells him that you want him to show you how good he can make you feel.

And Steve?

Well, Steve never backed down from a challenge.

You let out a shaky exhale, no response forming except the pleading expression you're giving him. A small, triumphant noise rumbled in his throat. Your slacks and underwear hit the floor, and in one swift motion, he coaxed you against the side of the counter, broad hands splaying over your hips.

He brushed his hand against you slowly, cautiously, fingers gliding against your core and making your knees threaten to buckle.

“Already?” His tone was low, teasing, right at your ear as his fingers entered you with a lewd, wet sound. “You’re shaking, baby. Maybe I have been neglecting you.”

“Please,” you whimpered after a moment, overwhelmed by how slow and teasing he was moving—he wasn’t normally quite so unhurried with the foreplay.

Steve usually never made you beg for anything.

He let out a soft chuckle, pressing a slow, teasing kiss to the side of your neck. Clearly, he was enjoying this—relishing the way your hands pawed at his shoulders, desperate, pleading for more. For him to stop playing and just give in.

“Shhh, I’ll take care of you, alright?” His fingers moved with agonising precision. “So sensitive—so sweet for me”

Your breathing stuttered; the sensations bloomed hot and electric with every brush of his fingers. But his mouth kept going, sliding into that cocky territory he owned so well.

“Bet he wouldn’t even know where to start with you,” he murmured, voice laced with pride. "Wouldn’t even know how fucking beautiful you sound when you—" his thumb pressed hard against your clit, dragging a desperate, wrecked moan from your lips, “—fuck yourself on my fingers.”

You could tell he was on a roll, completely caught up in the moment, but you mustered the courage to speak anyway.

Feeling bold, you forced a small smirk, even as your body threatened to betray you. You’d never seen him this pent up before—this utterly consumed—and the sheer thrill of it sent a sharp, electric spark through you.

Curiosity burned—just how far could you push him?

“O-oh, I don’t know—” you managed to choke out, stepping on dangerous territory. “He’s a keen learner…”

So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?

Everything stopped—his fingers, his breath, the push of his body against yours. He stilled, letting a harsh exhale flare his nostrils.

Then a dark, knowing laugh bubbled out of him as he lifted his head to look at you—really look at you. You caught a glimpse of his determined face, before all composure snapped.

Now he really had something to prove.

“Fuck, angel,” he groaned, voice taking on a frustrated edge. “You just don’t know when to stop—do you?”

Before you could react, he flipped you around and pushed your hips down against the dresser with a firm grip. The wood pressed into your stomach, your palms splayed on either side as he molded himself to your back.

He cupped your jaw from behind and you gasped at the harshness of his grip, every nerve alive. His teeth found your shoulder, biting just enough to blur the line between pleasure and pain.

You let out a sharp cry, and he swallowed it with a low groan. Running his tongue against the dull ache as a gentle apology.

“One of these days," he muttered, "that smart mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble—” you could feel his breath, hot and ragged, “—lucky for you, I’m the one who gets to teach it a lesson.”

His words send shivers across your skin and you tried to twist in his grip.

“Oh no, you don’t,” he chided as you tried to squirm, pressing against you back as he stilled your movements. “Stay.”

He placed one strong palm between your shoulder blades, guiding you lower, til your chest made contact with the wooden surface. Keeping you where he wanted you.

He wasn’t pushing, wasn’t forcing—just holding you there, making sure you felt him, making sure you knew exactly how this was going to go.

Your legs stumbled as you adjusted to the position, and he just laughed, sliding his fingers inside you once more, coaxing the most desperate little noises from your lips.

“Say my name, angel,” he demanded, that infuriating confidence dripping from every syllable.

“S-Steve,” you whimpered, voice barely recognisable to your own ears.

“Good,” he praised, dipping his head to kiss along your shoulder, fingers hitting that sweet spot inside that he knew drives you wild. “Want it to be the only thing in your head, okay?”

You moaned out his name once more, and he hummed with approval.

“That’s right." He cooed. "You're a fast learner, baby.”

He pulled away momentarily and you whined at the loss of contact, until you heard the metallic rasp of his zipper. He was right back against you, pressing his length along you with a low moan.

"You feel that?" he murmured, voice thick with need as he pressed against you, rolling his hips in a slow, deliberate grind. The friction sent sparks through your core, pulling a soft gasp from your lips. His grip tightened, fingers digging in just enough to make you shiver. "You're soaked, sweetheart."

He didn’t want to wait—couldn’t wait. He needed to prove it to you, needed you to understand just how much he could give you. Just how much he deserved you.

You tried to speak, but your voice came out ragged. Then, mercifully, he pushed inside—slow enough to let you feel every inch. The stretch pulled a drawn-out, trembling whine from your chest.

“Ah, fuck—.” His own voice cracked, hips snapping forward as though he couldn’t possibly wait another second. “That’s it—see how good that feels?—pussy was made for me. Ain't that right, angel?”

You only mewled in response as he settled into a driving rhythm, each thrust pushing you into the surface, bullying his cock deeper and deeper inside.

He wrapped a hand against the back of your neck, keeping you pinned where he could use you, pressing hot kisses along your shoulders when you cried out. It was music to his ears as he continued his relentless pace.

Normally he was gentler, but now, he was done holding back. The litany pouring from his mouth was shameless, full of desire and unfiltered possessiveness.

“Should’ve kept him on that damn phone—” he rasped against your neck, each word punctuated by a thrust. “Should’ve made him listen to how you sound—‘cause that’s the closest he’s ever gonna get to having you like this—”

Your walls tightened around him as his words poured over you, and he noticed—of course he noticed. He drank in every tremor, every flutter of your pussy, letting out a breathless laugh tinged with disbelief as he felt you squeeze him deeper at his teasing remarks.

"You like that?—really?" He let out an amused chuckle at the new information. “Shit—never knew how filthy you were, baby.”

The way you gripped his length, pulling him deeper, the sinful sounds spilling from your lips—he knew he was giving you both. Worship and destruction.

And fuck, you loved it.

You dragged your nails across the dresser’s surface, searching for an anchor in the storm of sensation. His hand slid over yours, fingers lacing as he drove into you, relentless.

“Too fucking bad he’s never gonna see how pretty you look when you're fucked dumb,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss the side of your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "That's just for me."

You felt your composure slipping, your body teetering on the edge. Your head rolled to the side, a broken string of words escaping.

“Steve, please—” spilled from your lips, but you weren’t even sure what you were begging for at this point.

He tangled his fingers in your hair, pulling you upright just enough so he could whisper directly into your ear. The pain was delicious as you arched against him, lungs gasping for air as he continued to spill every dirty thought he had.

"It's alright sweetheart—I’ll give you what you need. Just look at you—can’t even think straight." A soft, desperate moan tore from your throat as his mouth continued to run. "Just falling apart on my cock, letting me fuck every last thought out of that pretty head of yours."

His pace quickened, your body overwhelmed with the slide of him inside your walls, the heat of his skin, the possessive timbre in every word he rasped into your ear.

"But you know what you will remember?" he purred, teeth grazing the shell of your ear. "Every time you see him, you’ll remember how I had you bent in half, screaming my name—not his." He let you fall back onto the dresser, firm grip returning to your shoulder. "I want this burned into you, baby. So every fucking time you even look at him, all you can think about is me stretching you open—ruining you for anyone else."

Fuck, you knew Steve was loose-lipped in bed, but this was something else entirely.

He wasn’t making love to you—he was fucking you. Hard. Rough. Saying whatever filthy thing came to mind without a second thought.

You wished you could throw back a sly quip, but at this pace? You could barely breathe, let alone speak.

Not that it would matter—he wouldn’t give you the chance.

Your moans rose in pitch, matching the mounting tension in your core, and he groaned, voice unraveling into something so heady it almost vibrated through you.

"I—fuck—I want you feeling me tomorrow, sweetheart—want every step you take to remind you exactly what’s waiting for you when you come home." He thrust sharply, greeted with the cry that tore from your lips. "‘Cause, baby, I’ve got no problem bending you over like this again and again—’til the lesson sticks—"

That final promise was all you needed—you came hard, a wave of ecstasy rolling through you as your body clenched around him. Your cry echoed in the small space, and you felt his grip falter as he groaned your name, riding the crest of your climax.

“Fuck, baby—that’s it,” he choked out, thrusts turning erratic. “So good for me, taking me so—”

Then he followed you over the edge, hips snapping one last time before his body seized. You felt his breath come in ragged pants against your neck, his chest pressed to your back. Every muscle in him went taut, then slack, as he let out a deep, guttural moan of satisfaction.

Your name fell from his lips in a trembling exhale, and for a moment, neither of you moved—both lost in the aftermath, hearts hammering in sync.

He held you for a beat longer, both of you still catching your breath. Your body trembled against the wood, and as he finally pulled out, he stayed close—almost reluctant to let you go.

But as he pulled away brushing a knuckle over your spine, guilt crept into his eyes the moment he took in your shaky form.

“Ah—shit” he murmured, voice low. “Hey, sweetheart, you with me?”

You nodded weakly, turning your head and giving him the smallest smile of reassurance, but he still frowned in concern. Maybe he'd gone overboard.

“Yeah… all right. Can you stand?”

“I—I think so,” you managed breathily.

“Okay,” he whispered, guiding you upright with one gentle arm around your waist. Once he was sure you weren’t going to topple over, he bent down to scoop up your trousers and set them aside. You’d probably complain if they got creased—more creased than they were. Though, that wasn’t his number one priority right now.

You noticed the way his forehead furrowed in worry as he led you to the bed, helping you settle against the duvet. He slid in behind you, propping himself against the headboard so you could rest in his lap.

Your hands trembled a bit from aftershocks—adrenaline still coursing through your veins. He felt it, too, and his anxious expression only deepened.

He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

“Hey, angel?” His voice was gentle, coaxing, as he sought your eyes. “Can you look at me for a sec?”

You tilted your head back to meet his worried gaze, your cheeks still flushed and eyes glazed with the rush of it all. His own eyes flickered over your messy hair, the light smudges of your makeup, and your rumpled work shirt. Guilt pinched at his features.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” His words tumbled out in a rush. “I’m sorry if I got carried away. I just—just got caught up in everything, and you—”

You let out a soft chuckle, lifting a hand to cover his mouth gently.

God, he’s adorable when he’s fussing over you.

“Steve,” you said softly, watching him go silent. “You didn’t hurt me. I promise.”

He still looked unconvinced. “You’re just saying that.”

“No, I'm not,” you replied, smoothing your thumb over the swell of his bottom lip. “I’m really, really good. Better than good.”

He cupped your face gently, thumb brushing soft circles into your cheek, eyes flicking between yours as if searching for any sign of discomfort.

“Didn’t mean to be so rough,” he murmured, voice laced with concern. "Should've been more gentle with you, angel."

You were still quivering in his lap, body still sensitive. He was torn between holding you tighter against him, or letting you breathe.

You leaned forward after sensing his hesitation, brushing a soft kiss to his jaw, you make the decision for him.

“I loved it." You tell him truthfully. "I love you.”

He exhaled a shaky breath, hands finding your hips and holding you there. His warmth seeped into you through the fabric of your rumpled work shirt.

You loved him.

No matter how many times the words left your lips, it still made his chest ache.

"Love you too," he murmurs, eyes avoiding yours as they dart to his lap. "Just... don't want you thinking I, like, lost control or something." He looks up at you sheepishly. "Never want to hurt you."

“I know that.” You rested your palm against his jaw, the intimacy of the moment made your heart flutter. “I trust you. And if it was too much, I’d tell you.”

He stared at you for a moment, brow furrowed in uncertainty. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

A long exhale left him, relief slumping his shoulders.

“Thank God.” He leaned forward to rest his forehead gently against yours.

“But… you’re probably right.” You managed a playful smile as his eyes snapped to yours. “I’m definitely going to feel it tomorrow.”

A rosy flush bloomed across his face, and he buried it against your neck with a half-embarrassed groan. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You gave a teasing shrug, ignoring the dull ache that made itself known the second you moved your hips. “You might’ve had a point, too.”

“Yeah?” he asked, lifting his head, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

A teasing grin curled your lips. “You are kinda hot when you’re jealous.”

“Oh, God, don’t say that.” He winced exaggeratedly, making you laugh. “You’ll give me a complex or something.”

You laughed again, and he couldn’t help smiling back, brushing his nose against your cheek in a moment of affection.

“But, I mean, are you feeling jealous?” You asked him with full seriousness. “Because if you are, you can talk to me about it.”

He swallowed, his grip loosening slightly as his eyes softened, realisation settling deep in his chest.

You cared. So much. He thought about it for a brief moment—was he really jealous?

But then he looked at you, all concerned in his arms. The way you gazed at him, unwavering and sure, the way you had trusted him completely not five minutes ago, letting him take control, letting him have you.

It was all the answer he needed.

There was no room for doubt, no reason for insecurity. You were his—entirely his—and he knew it.

“No,” he finally said, voice gentle. “’M not jealous. Not really. I just—I don't know—wanted to make my girl feel good.” His lips quirked up in a small, sheepish grin. “And I guess I wanted to remind you who you’ve got waiting when you clock out.”

You leaned up to plant a reassuring kiss on his jaw. “Well, message received,” you teased, drawing a chuckle from him.

Steve glanced down at your blouse, still haphazardly half-done-up, and your bare legs still shaking.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah? I kinda distracted you from changing.”

“You definitely did.” You smile softly as he gets up, offering you his hand to stand.

“C’mon, let’s get a bath running.” He tells you as he cocks his head towards the door.

He guides you to the bathroom, flicking on the light and starting the taps. As water rushed into the tub, he helped you out of your disheveled work shirt, eyes flicking appreciatively across your skin. Gently, he traced a thumb over a reddening mark on your neck where he’d bitten down. A pang of guilt made his eyes tighten.

“Sorry about that,” he whispered, pressing a featherlight kiss over the mark. “Got carried away.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting a grin. “Hey, you got what you wanted, didn’t you? Everyone to know I’m yours?”

“Yeah,” a bashful smile tugged at his lips. “I did.”

Once the bath was ready, you both climbed in. The warm water soothed the lingering tension in your muscles, and you leaned back against his chest with a contented sigh. His arms draped loosely around your middle, fingers stroking lazy shapes over your skin.

“So,” he spoke up after a moment, lips brushing your ear. “you wanna brainstorm those ideas for your article now, Miss Journalist?”

You chuckled, letting your head fall back onto his shoulder. “Oh, now you’re interested in my writing process?”

“Course I am.” He gave a soft laugh, tightening his hold on you. “I’m always interested in whatever you’ve got going on. You know that.”

“Alright,” you teased, “I have a few pitches… maybe a feature on that new charity coffee place that’s opening up on Maple Street? Or this local teacher doing after-school science programs? I’m torn—so many good leads.”

Steve made an encouraging noise. “I like the teacher one,” he mused, brow furrowing in real consideration. “I mean, c’mon, that sounds like it’d be really feel-good for the paper. Everyone loves seeing that kinda community stuff.”

“You think so?” You felt a wave of affection swell through you at how genuine he was.

“Yeah. It’s definitely the kind of story that’ll get people talking in a good way.” He paused, a grin curling his lips. “But I gotta say… I also love coffee.”

“We’ll see which one the editor likes.” You giggle.

He helped you out of the tub once the water began to cool, wrapping a towel around his waist before carefully bundling you in another. He pressed a sweet kiss to your temple, then led you back to the bedroom, flicking off the overhead light so you were left in a peaceful glow from the bedside lamp.

You slipped into a soft tee and lounge shorts as he grabbed his own pyjamas from your chest of drawers, blushing at what transpired on it previously. He would never look at it the same way again.

You curled up against him in the bed—his arms around you made everything feel warm and safe.

“What time do you have to be at work tomorrow?” you mumbled against his chest.

“Not ’til afternoon,” he said, carding his fingers through your hair.

A content sigh escaped you, eyes fluttering shut. “Nice for some, I guess.”

“But,” he continued, clearing his throat pointedly, “I’m definitely dropping you off tomorrow.”

Your brow creased, and you glanced up at him with a sleepy frown.

“Why?”

He smirked, his hand coming to rest gently on your hip. “Because… you said you were meeting him earlier, right? The new guy?” He leaned in, voice dropping playfully. “I wanna see the look on your face when you see him—see if you remember exactly what we did tonight.”

Heat flooded your cheeks, and you smacked his chest lightly. “Steve!”

“What?” He chuckled, utterly delighted, pressing a mischievous kiss to your forehead. “I’m curious.”

You huffed in mock-annoyance but couldn’t hide your smile. “You’re incorrigible.”

His chest rumbled with laughter, and he buried his nose in your hair. “That’s me,” he murmured, voice going soft again as he held you closer.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #stranger things x reader #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington smut #stranger things smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #stranger things fic

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straylightdream · 2 months ago

Text

pretty in pink - ♡

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: kwon soonyoung x afb.reader

who knew walking around without a bra on would drive your roommate insane.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞(𝐬): romance, porn without plot, smut, a rom/com if you will.

𝐚𝐮(𝐬): roommate au

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.8k

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing, mc is body positive, so much banter

𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected sex (mc is on the pill), they get kind of rough, dirty talk, creampie, soft dom Soonyoung, Soonyoung has a panty kink, oral both rec, 69, face sitting, p in v intercourse, boob/nipple play, Soonyoung is obsessed with the mc boobs, spanking (mc gets spanked once or twice) nicknames: baby (hers)baby, tiger boy (his)

𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+ nsfw

🎧: guess - charli xcx & billie eilish |

𝐚𝐧: a fun raunchy story for our favorite tiger boy Soonyoung’s birthday. Thank you @aeristudios for listening to me ramble about this one. Thank you @supi-wupi for beta reading.

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

Living with Soonyoung is a wild card. Some days it’s calm and he’s quiet. Other days he goes and says the most unhinged things.

You’ve been roommates for three years. You met through a mutual friend and instantly became close. When both of you were looking for somewhere to live, getting an apartment together just made sense. Sunday mornings are your favorite. You both have the day of, so you spend the day hanging out. Most Sundays you wake up early to enjoy a solo cup of coffee before Soonyoung is up.

“You know sometimes I think you were put onto this earth to make me suffer.” That’s a wild statement for Soonyoung to say at seven in the morning. You’re just standing in the kitchen innocently drinking your coffee, still just dressed in your pajamas.

Glancing up from your coffee you knit your brows together. What on earth is Soonyoung talking about? “What the fuck did I do to you?”

“I know you’re body positive and you aren’t a fan of wearing a bra. That’s fine, but normally when you aren’t wearing a bra you’re in a baggy shirt—“ Looking down you realize that you’re wearing a tank top that does barely anything to cover your breast. Your tiny sleep shorts aren’t really helping either. Your nipples are fully visible through your shirt. This man has no room to talk, he’s dressed in a pair of sweatpants that are set low on his hips. You can literally see the veins leading down to cock.

“Are my boobs distracting?” You take another sip of your coffee.

“Bro it’s seven in the damn morning and my fucking roommate has me hard.” You and Soonyoung are very blunt when it comes to talking about your sex lives. Him complaining about something getting him hard isn’t new. What is new is him complaining that you are the reason he’s hard.

“Did you seriously call me bro, while complaining about my boobs?” Sitting your coffee down on the counter. This conversation is insane. Soonyoung has always been kind of crazy, but this is a different level.

He rolls his eyes dramatically. “Can we just make a rule if you’re going to walk around not wearing a bra you warn me. I would really prefer to not have jack off at random hours of the day.”

“You know if you want to see them you can?” If he’s being dramatic you might as well tease him and have some fun. You start messing with the strap or your tank top.

“I just can’t see your tits and just walk away and pretend I’m fine.”

“You wouldn’t have to walk away.”

His big doe eyes go wide at the realization of your statement. “Excuse me?”

“Soonyoung will it help if I let you see my boobs, and then if you’re nice to me— maybe I could blow you and help you out.”

“Are you being serious?” He can’t even hide how shocked he sounds.

“I mean, yes—“ the words barely leave your mouth. He strides across the kitchen and crashes his lips into yours for a heat kiss. His finger tangled in your hair holding you close to him. Your chest is pressed against him. This kiss is anything but subtle; his tongue rubs against yours as your lips move together. This is a kind of kiss that is lust filled. He’s kissing you like he needs you to breathe.

Pulling away he gives you each a moment to catch your breath. Reaching up he takes your breast in his hand. His thumb brushes your nipple over your shirt. “You drive me so fucking crazy.”

“Maybe we should go to one of our rooms.”

He tilts his head to the side. There is no way this isn’t some wet dream or something. He’s terrified he’s going to wake up.

Grabbing your hand he drags you off to his room before he can say something stupid. Slamming his door shut he wasted no time practically ripping off your shirt. Standing in front of him in nothing but your sleep shorts.

“My god your tits are even better than I imagined.” He groans. “Lay on the bed and take off your shorts.”

Pulling off your shorts you’re left in a tiny pink thong. Hooking your fingers into the sides you stop when he says your name.

“Keep your thong on.” Of course he has a panty kink.

Crawling into the bed you spread your legs. You’ve never seen him move quicker in his life to strip down naked. The sight of him is absolutely mouth watering.

“Any hard nos?” He puts one knee on the bed and pauses. You’ve definitely heard Soonyoung have sex before. It turns out your two bedroom apartment that you spend way too much money on has thin walls. Nothing on the other side of the wall sounded too crazy.

“Like nothing gross and don’t degrade me. What about you?”

“Anything you want to try, I would be down.” He crawls across the bed towards you. “Can we keep your thong on?”

He sits on his knees between your spread legs. “Do you have a panty kink?” His hand rubs your thigh.

“No— I’ve just seen you bend over so many times and flash me your ass. It’s taken every thing in me not to bend you over and pull it to the side and fuck you right there.”

This whole situation doesn’t feel real. You’ve been pining after your roommate since you moved in together all those years ago.

“If you want to suck my cock, can you sit in my face while you do it.”

Sitting up you tap the bed next to you. God how is he still so adorable and so sexy at the same time? “Lay down tiger boy.”

He finds his place in the middle of the bed. He helps move your body so your wet core is hovering over his face. His straining cock is curved up towards you. You’ve never been a huge fan of sucking dick, but you can’t wait to taste him. He wraps his arms around your thighs pulling your pussy down to his face. You start stroking his length slowly.

Leaning down your start licking the rosy colored tip that’s already leaking precum. Sliding your mouth down his cock you take him as far as he can go before he brushes the back of your throat. The vein that runs the underside of his shaft is brushing against your tongue.

The moment he starts sucking your clit you can help but moan his name. Well it’s safe to say eating pussy is another thing Soonyoung can say he’s good at. The room is filled with moans and wet sounds. You hope he likes his head messy, his cock is coated in a mix of your spit and his precum.

His nose keeps brushing your clit applying the perfect amount of pressure. He has you seeing stars. At this rate you’re going to fall apart on his tongue with little effort.

Pulling your mouth off him, you pump his length over and over. You can’t help but moan.

“I’m close—“ your words are a high pitch whine.

Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave. Your vision blurs as your slump forwards. He keeps licking your clit as you ride out your high.

He smacks your ass and grips the flesh massaging it. “On your side baby.”

“I’m not done.” You planned on blowing him until he was begging you to stop.

“I’m not cumming in your mouth. Like I said, on your side.”

Laying on your side he’s straddling one of your legs while he is holding up your other leg. Taking his straining length in his hand he runs it through your wet folds. Tapping your clit he earns a moan from you.

“Should I get a condom?” You were so drunk on the idea of Soonyoung fucking you, the thought of a condom slipped your mind.

“Soon—“

“Is my baby eager for my cock?”

“Please—“ you’ve never been one to beg but you’ll beg for him.

Slowly inch by inch he thrust into you. He squeezes his eyes shut trying to stay calm. “Fuck your tight—“ he groans.

Rolling your head back, you moan his name. He pushes his hips into yours at a quick and firm pace. He’s fucking you at a rough pace and your brain feels like mush. Moaning his name like you’re in heat. Reaching forward he grips your breast. His fingers toy with your nipple.

“New rule, no tops allowed in the house.” He moans. If Soonyoung chose to walk around naked you wouldn’t ever complain. He’s got the body of a Greek god.

You’re hit with the sudden realization that things are going to change. There is no way this could just be a fun friends with benefits situation. Sure you could try it out, but you already have a crush on your roommate. And to be quite honest it would take little effort for him to make you fall in love with him.

Closing yours you have pushed away the thoughts that are suddenly consuming you like a parasite.

“Fuck—“ you moan.

“Baby I’m close.” He snapping his hips into yours at a rough pace. His grip on your breast hasn’t stopped. The way he’s toying with your nipples you know you’ll be sore tomorrow.

Reaching down you brush your fingers over your sensitive clit. Biting your bottom lip you hold back moaning as much as you can. If your walls are thin between your rooms, you definitely don’t need your neighbors to know that Soonyoung is fucking the living daylights out of you.

Your second orgasm makes you feel like you’re going to black out. Your body feels numb as every nerve feels like it’s on fire. This is the best sex of your life. How are you ever supposed to sleep with another man after this.

“Baby, where can I finish?” You’re hit with the realization that neither of you remembered a condom.

“Inside, I’m clean and on the pill.”

“I’m clean too.” He groans in response.

His hand leaves your breast and grips your hips for leverage as he snaps his hips into your

He moans your name like a sinful prayer as he finds his own release. He paints your walls with his milk release. Dropping your leg, he’s still snug inside you. He leans so he is practically laying on top of you. He presses a bunch of gentle kisses across your skin anywhere he can reach. He’s acting the polar opposite of how he was just fucking you.

Running your fingers through his hair you can’t help but smile in your dazed post sex bliss.

“God I like you so much,” he mumbles between kisses.

“I like you too.” You whisper back.

If you have asked to be tagged I request that you please reblog. If you could leave comments and or tags that would be greatly appreciated.

#svthub #thediamondlifenetwork #keopihausnet #seventeen smut #hoshi smut #Soonyoung smut #hoshi x reader #kwon soonyoung x reader #soonyoung x reader #hoshi imagine #my writing #dreamie writes #🐯#💎

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c1phra · 3 months ago

Note

Hugo relationship headcanons... please..... feed the starving........

... ❝ RELATIONSHIP HCS! ❞ ft. hugo x reader

𝒾. ⠀FEATURING : an assortment of headcanons about your relationship with hugo!

꒰ contents ꒱ mild spoilers for hugo's backstory i guess? gn!reader. fluff. headcanons. wc : 1052

꒰ notes ꒱ HIII ANON!! thank you for the request hehe i hope this is to your liking, i'm still getting a grasp on his character :")) + @rainswept hugo tag <3

a relationship with hugo is not easy. not at first, at least.

despite his collected exterior, the scars of his past still sting when pressed, and it's a pain not easy to ignore, no matter how much he tries to convince himself he has healed. it takes a while to allow himself to open up enough to begin the relationship in the first place, let alone let his guards fall, one by one...

but he'll manage. he's nothing if not resilient; give him time, patience, and the chance to ask you out himself, and he will be the most attentive lover you've ever had.

it starts with the classic: flowers, a huge bouquet that takes two hands to hold, and a box of chocolates. he's calm when he's handing them to you, his voice even as he spits out the confession speech that took hours in the mirror to prepare, but his mind is going haywire, worrying about whether it's too much, too soon. maybe he should have stuck with just the chocolates after all, or even just a smaller bunch of roses, or something else entirely—

he's thankful you don't let him languish in his thoughts for too long, cutting off his overthinking with a simple “yes.” it takes all he can to restrain himself from breaking out into relieved laughter at your response.

it's all history from there. when you're with hugo, nothing is ever boring; he'd consider it a personal affront for his beloved to be disinterested when they're out with him. no matter what you're doing, be it an extravagant day out, or quiet night in, there's always something to look forward to.

the more elaborate dates are what he leans towards in the beginning, as a means to impress you—dinners at the most high-end restaurants, and tours of art galleries—but it's the simple ones where he truly shines. when all of the grandeur and showiness is melted away, when it's just the two of you curled up under a weighted blanket with some trashy rom-com playing in the background, that's when he truly feels at home.

at the start of the relationship he's careful with his affection. even the most innocuous gestures are subtle tests, experimenting to see what you are and aren't comfortable with. pet names are one of the first things he tries out, a genuine “darling,” or “sweetheart,” slipped into the teasing, overly sappy “honey-pie,” and “snookums.”

when it comes to physical affection though, he tends to be... flighty.

a part of it is the natural touch-starvation that comes with being deprived of gentle touch for so long, but another is the fact that he simply doesn't know how to respond to it. it's not that he's opposed to the feeling, he simply prefers to be the one to touch you, to ensure he keeps some level of control over the situation.

it makes it easier. safer. if he knows if and when it happens, he doesn't have to worry about the instinctual recoil that happens whenever you suddenly grab his arm, or the overwhelming swell of emotion in his chest when you kiss his cheek. after a while, the instinct starts to dull, but it never quite ceases fully.

in any case, he doesn't stop you from touching him, (he doesn't know if he could bring himself to, even if he wanted to) but he favours the touches that he's warned about beforehand. ask for a kiss, and he'll never refuse; motion for a hug, and his arms will be open and waiting.

he tends to mirror what you like; every touch—even the ones that seem casual—is another test of what you're receptive to. once he's satisfied with his understanding of your boundaries, your wants and needs, he's more than happy to indulge you—no matter how much or how little you like.

one thing he does like is when you're walking together, he enjoys having you hold his arm, instead of his hand. it feels so much more intimate somehow, having your hands linked through his arm. he can't help but glance over at you every few seconds, a wide grin breaking over his face as he realizes how lucky he is.

hugo is extremely perceptive to how you feel, almost scarily so. there's no use trying to hide anything from him. surprises, secrets, suppressed feelings, he notices it all. if there's an issue in your relationship, he doesn't let it linger; he sits you down and confronts it together.

and if you're having problems of your own, he's also there to help. he might be slightly overzealous with helping you fix whatever you have going on, but he's more than willing to just listen if that's what you need. either way, he can't stand the idea of you keeping something to yourself when it's clearly troubling you.

somehow, despite his directness when it comes to resolving conflict, the first “i love you,” takes a while. it's a difficult sentence for him to muster up, even if it's been months since you got together. in a way, it's the weight of it that holds him back. speaking it aloud

so he saves it for a moment that seems casual, perhaps to steel his nerves slightly, or to simply soften the blow. it happens when you're half asleep, mid-way through your nightly routine. he's on his way to the kitchen for a glass of water when he pauses by you in the bathroom, kisses your temple and whispers an “i love you,” into your hair.

in fact, you're so tired that you don't even notice it at first, simply humming in response as he ducks out of the room. it's a few seconds later when the words finally process, and you almost drop the toothbrush in your hand.

what follows is you dashing to the kitchen to confront him, a flurry of questions on your lips. he's frustratingly impassive with his responses, an air of forced calmness about him, as if he hadn't just shocked your entire system. the bewilderment on your face is amusing to a degree, but there's an anxiousness that accompanies it; one that doesn't ease until he hears those sweet, four words that he's been craving ever since the day he asked you to be his.

“i love you too.”

©c1phra 2025 : do not copy, translate, repost, redistribute, or use my work to train ai. reblogs are appreciated <33

#₍ ᐢ..ᐢ ₎ mari's writing #—stellaronhvnters.#zenless zone zero x reader #zzz x reader #hugo x reader #zzz hugo x reader #hugo vlad x reader #x reader

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heedthetenofwands · 9 months ago

Text

ghost x (lowkey unhinged) sunshine f!reader

suggestive nsfw (but non-explicit)

His girl was the sweetest thing. Smile as bright as the sun and you looked at him like he’d hung the stars and the moon. Coming home to you was always the highlight of his day.

But something was amiss ever since a week ago.

He had come back from base, a day of planning for the next mission and cleaning up from the last, and his heart yearned to be at home with you. Stepping through the front door, he was ready to hear his bird chirping his name and telling him about the day. But the house was silent, the lights were off, and he couldn’t hear a thing.

He waited a moment before calling out your name. It was only when he walked up the stairs to the bedroom that he saw you sitting on the edge of the bed. Your back was to the door.

“Love?” He called to you. You turned your head back to see him before standing up and making your way around the bed to smile and greet him. You hug him tightly, a bit firmer than usual and he had to brace his core a little in surprise. You let go and look at him with an innocent smile.

“Did you have a good day?” You asked.

“It was OK, better now.” He replies. You continue staring at him, almost in contemplation and, without blinking, kiss his cheek and move out of the room.

Alarms bells are ringing.

˚₊‧꒰ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"There's something wrong." He confesses to them at drinks after work a couple days later. "She's angry."

"Your bonnie? She doesnae seem ta have a malicious bone in 'er. I'm sure it'll pass." Soap says.

Ghost grunts dismissively. "Never been this long."

Gaz hums in thought, "Did you forget a date?"

Ghost stays quiet but Gaz doesn't miss the confused stare. He clarifies, "Birds care about 'em. 1st anniversary, birthdays, the milestones. Can fall through the cracks if you're not careful though."

Ghost replies, "Maybe." In his mind, he's already running his fingers through their calendar.

Price cuts through, "Why not just ask 'er?" Straight to the point, as Ghost expected.

He leans back, "Rather not." Ghost knows he's hiding the real answer. What do I do if I can't fix it?

Price looks at him, assesses him and sees right through him. But before he can press further, Ghost hears his phone buzz. He pulls it out of his pocket and after reading the message from you, grumbles a quiet 'fuck' that draws the attention of his team. They lean over to catch a glimpse of the message.

The screen showed previous conversations between the lieutenant and his girl, you sending him your texts with smiley faces, hearts or emoticons with every message. That is, until your latest one which read:

Love: pick up bread on your way home.

The team winced at the cold tone.

"Good luck, mate."

"Warning ya, bakery closes earlier than usual today."

"You're fucked."

Ghost glares at them all before standing up and leaving.

˚₊‧꒰ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The rest of the week had followed similarly with you just not acting like you're usual self.

That Friday it was your turn to pick a film to watch, where you would usually put on a cheesy rom-com or a tense-filled drama, that night it was a R18 horror movie. Ghost did not utter a single complaint when you put it on. Or move an inch when you lay your head on his chest and smiled at a scene where a cheating husband and his mistress get sliced in two.

Where you two would usually stay in bed together to bask the warm glow of a slow Sunday morning, instead, Simon woke alone. He called your phone again and again until you came home a couple hours later. You ignored his questions. Fearing the worst, he let it go.

And the bite of your finger nails into his skin got stronger and stronger every night as you two lay in bed. It was as is if you were clutching or branding onto him with all your might.

It was later that week, that Simon decided to was time to ask. Time to confront the dissonance that was ringing louder and louder in his ears whenever you touched him, looked at him and smiled at him.

He was going to do it. Right after dinner, he was going to do it.

˚₊‧꒰ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Ghost, in fact, did nothing after dinner because as soon as you had gathered up the plates. You had returned with a cake.

You brought it to the table. “I know how much you love my desserts, Si. It's been forever since I've made one so I thought I would make your favourite today." You sit down before adding, "I've changed it up a bit, too. New ingredient and whatever.”

Ghost stills at that. “What’s the ingredient, darling?” He says as casually, as he could. Cyanide? Arsenic?

You smile sweetly at him, “It’s a surprise Si, where’s the fun in knowing before tasting it?”

“Right.” He replies, hesitantly.

You start cutting a slice, and place it on his plate before sitting down and waiting for him.

He takes the fork. "You're not hungry, love?"

You shake your head, "I want to see your reaction."

There's a moment where Ghost is trying to remember the poison hotline contact number so he could ring it after his 'taste test' but he finally breaks.

“Nope, can’t do this anymore.” He says.

“Can’t do what, Simon?” You asked with faux concern. You stand up and come to his side of the table to face him. “What’s wrong, baby? You're going to love it.”

“Did I forget an anniversary? Your birthday?” He thought aloud. He doubted it, but he must have done something wrong. He reaches for your arms and gently pulls you to stand in front of him, he holds your hands and bows his head before you. “Tell me love, have I been neglecting you? Spending too much time at work? You can tell me.”

You gently remove your hands from his hold, moving one hand to cup his cheek and the other to tilt his chin so he could meet your gaze. At first, he leans into the gentle palm of your hand but the cold look in your eye with that small smile of your lips makes him freeze.

“Don’t bullshit me, Riley.” Your voice cuts through the candlelit room. He has to fight to not let this do something to him. It gets worse when you use both of your hands to cup his jaw and force his head upwards to meet your gaze. “I found a second phone when I was sorting the laundry. There was a message from another woman. Asking if you would be coming over that night. What a greedy fucker you are.” He has to fight any sound that may escape from his lips at seeing you speak so harsh. “You listen to me, Simon.” His eyes widen as you close the distance of your face to his and your lips are so close. He wants to kiss you. “I will fucking kill her.”

Ghost had no idea what was happening, mind moving too fast and too slow all at once. All he could do was focus on his sweetheart's voice. You stand upright, move closer to Ghost, forcing him to spread his thighs so you can stand between them and press his face to your form, stroking the back of his head, his shoulders, his back as if to soothe and comfort. “I am yours. You made it so. And now, you are mine too."

He can't help the chills running down his spine as he laid his head against your body and felt the presses of your touch. You tell him, “All you need to do is give me her name and where I can find her. And after tonight, we can forget all about this, my love. If you work hard enough, I will forgive you. And in time, I will ask you what deficit I had to make you think you can replace me."

You sigh, "I gave you all week to confess, but you have no shame do you?"

Finally, Ghost's mind seems to catch up, "Wait, wait, sweetheart I don't have a second phone." At that, you tighten the hand in his hair, grabbing a good chunk of the back of his head. He whines at the sensation, "I swear, love." But you do not yield.

His mind is racing.

A second phone?

And finally, he realises. "Sweetheart, wait. It's Johnny's. He mentioned that he lost his phone, the idiot must've dropped in my gym bag. That's why you found it."

Your body stills. "Are you sure, Si?"

While you stay still, Ghost only wraps his arms around you, nestling his face against the warmth of your body and your hesitance. He pleads, "On my life. Call him, darling. Please."

˚₊‧꒰ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

A phone call later, you confirm that Soap indeed dropped his phone, and was seeing the woman you saw in the notifactions. With a sinking feeling, you return to the kitchen table.

"Si, I'm so sorry." You tell him, tears already brimming your water line. "I should've just asked you-" Before you can say another word, Ghost had already stood up and embraced you. You sink against him.

You should have never doubted a starving dog.

Ghost smiles as he releases you from his hold, "You still want dessert?" He looks back at the cake.

You only giggle, "Yes, let's eat. Not that one though." You ignore Ghost's questioning gaze as you walk to the fridge, humming a small tune, and then pull out another identitical cake. You set it on the table, smiling innocently as the blood drains from Ghost's face. "Let's eat, Si."

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty #cod #so sorry if the ending seems abrupt #also not proofread towards end #lowkey insane readers you have my heart <3 #ghost x you #ghost x y/n

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ghostlyferrettarot · 1 month ago

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💌♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚Pick A Card: Your love story with your future spouse 💌♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚

❗️This is a collective reading, take what resonates and leave the rest❗️

✨️Paid Services ✨️ (Natal charts and tarot readings) Open!

🫧Join my Patreon for exclusive content!🫧

🌸If you like my work you can support me through Ko-fi. Thank you!🌸

🥰Masterlist🥰🥰Masterlist 2🥰

💌♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ Pile 1: 🀢🀣🀦🀤 Cards: 5 of Swords – The Tower – 2 of Cups – Knight of Wands – Justice – The Star.

Okay pile 1, you and your future spouse are starting off with a strange energy. There's some competition in the air. It's giving enemies to lovers, and Maxton Hall vibes (go watch it if you haven't ;)). There's strife, friction, a vibe of intellectual, professional, or ego rivalry. You may work together, have opposing opinions on everything, or you may simply not be able to stand each other because there's too much tension… emotional and other 👀. The Tower appears when something crucial happens between you. A heated argument, an unexpected confession, a situation that completely breaks the impression you had on eachother, etc. Whatever happens, it makes you see each other with new eyes. Something falls apart, and underneath there are feelings (even if you two dont want to admit it at first, i see you guys but it will be undeniable). There's vulnerability in this, like a "oh no… I like you" situation. This person will truly see you because you two are so much alike, you have the same fire as them. And then, without knowing how, you're sharing something real. Fights now end in laughter. Or kisses. Or both 👀. Justice shows me that you're learning to balance each other. That you're both intense, yes, but you're also learning to admire each other. To trust. To build. And the Star is pure healing. This bond transforms you. You don't just love each other: you polish each other, you elevate each other, you truly understand each other. You're going to have to swallow your pride. But it's completely worth it. It's giving rom-com, 10 Things I Hate About You, Bridgerton (season 2 specially).

💌♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ Pile 2: 🀢🀣🀦🀤 Cards: 6 of Cups – 3 of Swords – The Lovers – Death – King of Cups – Temperance.

This story has HISTORY, I feel like this is some past energy. You and your future spouse have met before. Maybe it was young love, crushes that didn't quite work out, or someone with whom things just didn't align. There was a breakup. It hurt. Maybe you each went your separate ways, believing you'd get over it. Spoiler pile 2: you didn't get over it 🙃, and that's for the best. Maybe it was someone you met briefly and never forgot, or the other way around. Or even someone from another life. Something forced you to let go before your time. And it wasn't fair. It wasn't the ending you deserved. BUT. Fate didn't forget you. The Lovers mark the reappearance of this person. The reunion. Maybe years later. Maybe when you didn't even expect it. But love returns. And with the Death card, the energy changes radically, this time you are not the same. This time you choose each other with maturity. With awareness. And believe me, this reunion is no coincidence, it's karmic. You are not who you were. And that's good. Now you're ready. The King of Cups represents a wise, present, deep love. And Temperance is the calm after the storm. This relationship becomes a refuge. A safe space. A form of love that only exists when you've known pain and decided to heal with each other. Sometimes the timing isn't right… until it is. And then, everything falls into place as if it was always meant to be. Something that's coming to mind while i'm channeling is the movie Love Rosie, so I feel like that's the kind of story you two will have. Maybe this is a friend of yours as well, someone close.

💌♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ Pile 3: 🀢🀣🀦🀤 Cards: The Fool – 4 of Wands – The World – Ace of Cups – Wheel of Fortune – Queen of Pentacles.

PILE 3 I'm really screaming, your romance that seems straight out of a book. This is the kind of story where you wake up one day, go about your routine like any other, and suddenly, you meet someone who completely changes the course of your life. It's that powerful energy. You're entering a new phase. Maybe you just moved, quit a job, decided to live for yourself. You're exploring, growing. And then, without even looking for it… they appear. A person who looks at you as if they've known you before. ITS GIVING SOULMATES SO HARD. You might meet at a wedding, a party, a ceremony… or even through someone else. Either way, there's an IMMEDIATE vibe of "why do I feel like I already know you?" This connection is cosmic. This person celebrates you. They're with you. They don't want to change you or rescue you: they want to see you shine. There are synchronicities everywhere, like repeated numbers, "chance" encounters, phrases that repeat themselves in your dreams. Maybe you already met them in dreams, or your higher selves have already met. With this person, you feel free, accepted, safe. The Wheel of Fortune screams to me: this is destiny. You didn't plan it. But you can't avoid it. And the Queen of Pentacles shows a stable love, the kind that is built day by day, with care, with mate in the morning and massages after a long day. With this person, you will build a beautiful life, with roots. There is emotional security, stability, and a love so real it brings peace. This is "I saw it and I knew it." It's your home in the form of a person pile 3.

💌♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚Thank you for reading and let me know if it resonated!💌♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚

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enwoso · 1 month ago

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left with you | alessia russo x aussie!reader

due to popular demand by the people, here is a part two of right swipe, right time.

masterlist | read first -> right swipe, right time

alessia had timed it perfectly. or at least, in her mind, she thought she had.

the plan was simple, slip out of the changing room while most of the girls were still showering or dissecting tactics with the coaches, hoodie on, bag slung over her shoulder, eyes low and innocent.

the blonde looked casual. invisible. not like someone desperate to avoid being caught sneaking out for a post-training date.

alessia pushed through the side door into the open air and smiled, until she saw you.

you were already there, leaning against your car like some smug daydream, sunglasses perched on your nose which weren't really necessary as it wasn't the sunniest of days in london, one foot crossed over the other as you stood with two coffees in hand. roo sat half-asleep across the back seat, his back lying in direct hit of the sun through the window as his tail thumped lazily.

alessia narrowed her eyes, a small smile on her lips. "subtle."

you grinned the same lovesick smile you got every time you saw her. "i thought i was being subtle."

"you're literally posing like you're waiting to shoot an ad for oat milk." alessia got closer, your eyes scanning her outfit. her toned legs on show with the adidas shorts she wore paired with a crisp white t-shirt.

"maybe i am." you shrugged as you held out a cup. "iced latte, extra shot, one pump of vanilla. i figured you'd need the energy."

alessia nodding, a small pang in her chest at you getting her order spot on as she took the coffee, smirking. "you think i'm sneaking out to go nap?"

you leaned in as alessia took a sip of the coffee, just close enough that if there was anyone around they wouldnt hear your words. "i was hoping you were sneaking out to make out with me in your car."

alessia slightly choked on her coffee as she raised an eyebrow. "you really just say things, huh?"

"hey, blame your pretty face, russo. not me." you shrugged, a tight smirk on your lips. "i'm just reacting.”

"mhm i've noticed," alessia said, but her voice had gone all soft as she glanced down at the coffee, then back up. "you know this is the best part of my day, right?"

you tilted your head, pleased. "even better than scoring a screamer against chelsea?"

"i said what i said."

the two of you were close now, toe to toe, and alessia let herself lean in, eyes flicking from your lips to your eyes and back again. "you gonna kiss me, or are you just gonna keep standing there looking like you belong in a bad netflix rom-com?"

you grinned a small laugh leaving your lips. "babe, i am the bad netflix rom-com."

and just as their lips met. soft, a little cocky, a little finally—a voice broke through the air.

"are you joking?! that's her?!" "it's tinder girl!"

alessia nearly dropped her coffee as she turned just in time to see kyra stop dead outside the training building, mouth wide, finger pointed directly at the two of you.

behind the young australian, a few others all wrapped in their own conversations to even notice kyra's outburst. steph, caitlin, katie, and vic, all fresh from training and clearly having caught the whole show much to their unknown.

caitlin was the first to see what kyra was making a fuss about, her jaw dropping in shock. "now way. it's the tinder aussie?!"

steph was squinting, already walking over. "so less she's brought you coffee and a dog. yeah, she's real."

katie looked like christmas had come early. "russo. you've been sneaking out for this?!"

alessia groaned as she leaned her head against your chest as you stood with a smug grin, enjoying seeing alessia squirm just that little bit. "can i not have one private moment?"

vic smirked. "not when your standing in a public car park, no."

kyra was now practically vibrating. "okay so, we need introductions. like now."

you straightened, clearly enjoying yourself, and held up a hand. "y/n. from sydney. flat white enthusiast. owner of roo. in love with your star striker."

steph gave you an approving nod, like a proud parent. "you've got guts. i like it."

"she's hot," kyra whispered too loudly to steph as everyone there heard.

"oi," alessia warned, stepping between them and you. "back off. she's mine."

you raised an eyebrow, visibly amused. "mine, huh?"

"like you don't already know"

caitlin stepped forward, all business. "alright. so, when's brunch? because now that we know you exist, you're officially one of us. aussie crew rules."

kyra nodded. "there's a group chat for us that's in london. you're getting added"

you gave alessia a smug little nudge. alessia crossed her arms. "you realise this is all going in the group chat, right?"

katie had already pulled out her phone. "oh it's already in the group chat."

vic peeked over her shoulder. "and steph's calling it 'russo's soft launch."

alessia groaned. you leaned in again, lips brushing her ear. "if this is the soft launch, imagine what the hard one looks like."

alessia flushed scarlet as she tried to bury her face in your shoulder once again as katie let out a howl of a laugh "oh my god, she's wheezing."

you reached for the door and opened it, gesturing grandly. "shall we?"

alessia climbed in, but not before looking at her teammates, all of them staring, laughing, taking pictures and notes like this was the most entertainment they'd had all week.

"y'know what," alessia said, "fine. gossip away. but my girl brought me coffee and a dog and looks like that."

you winked, arm leaning on the open door. "you forgot the part where i'm amazing in bed."

"oh my god," caitlin choked as a few sniggers could be heard from the group.

steph put her hands up. "your a good egg, y/n. the aussie's are definitely having brunch."

alessia shut the car door before anyone else could speak, face burning, heart racing and couldn't stop smiling.

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alisonwritesimagines · 1 year ago

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Second Chance ~Logan Howlett Imagine~

Summary: Logan meets you. A variant of his dead wife.

Author’s Note: I won't lie, Hugh Jackman was hotter in the early 2000s.

Part Two

Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR DEADPOOL AND WOLVERINE, mentions of character deaths, mentions of sexual innuendos

Do not repost this anywhere!

A new start for Logan was just what he needed. And thanks to the TVA, Laura was able to join him in the universe Wade was originally from. So this was a new start for the two of them. And to celebrate their success in saving the universe, Wade decided to have a pizza dinner party with all his friends so Logan and Laura can get to know them.

"We are missing one more person," Wade noticed as he looked around.

"Y/n will be coming soon. She had to deal with something first," Yukio tells him.

"Thank you, Yukio," Wade smiled at her.

"Y/n?" Logan asked Wade.

"Oh you are going to love her. Everyone does," Wade tells him. "You too Mary Puppins."

Ten minutes later, you finally showed up.

"As an apology for coming late, I made my famous brownies!" You announced as you handed the plate with the chocolate goods to Negasonic Teenage Warhead.

Logan looked over to see that the stranger who walked in felt like a walking corpse to him. His smile drained from his face as he stared at you who was greeting the people you knew.

"Y/n! I want you to meet our new friends! Logan and Laura," Wade said. It felt like a cheesy rom com slow motion turn to Logan. But he was still enchanted by your beauty.

"It's nice to meet you both," you smiled at them.

"It's nice to meet you too," Laura said as she shook your hand.

"Please excuse me," Logan said as he walked out. Your smile fell a little as you watched the man walk out. You looked back at Wade who had a confused look as well.

"I will be right back. But here. Meet Mary Puppins," Wade said as he handed the dog over to you.

Wade rushed out of the apartment to find Logan outside.

"Hey! What was that? You just ran out on one of the best people I have ever met. She is tied with Peter and Yukio," Wade tells him.

"I didn't realize you had a version of her here," Logan tells him.

"What are you talking about?" Wade asked him.

"Y/n. She was my wife in my universe," Logan explains to him.

"No shit. You were married?" Wade asked him in shock.

"She was also killed because of me."

"This one is different."

"And how's that?" Logan asked him.

"She's a really big badass here," Wade tells him.

"She was in my universe too. But I still let her and everyone down."

"This one could be different."

"I don't know."

"Why don't you come back upstairs and have pizza and get to know her?" Wade offered.

"I think I'm gonna stay out here for a bit," Logan tells him.

"Alright."

Wade headed back upstairs, leaving Logan all alone. Not fifteen minutes later, you came outside with a plate of pizza and a brownie piece and a beer.

"You are missing the pizza and my brownies which Wade was mostly eating all of them," you tell Logan as you handed the food and drink to him.

"Thanks."

"Are you okay? Did I do something?" You asked him.

"No. It's just... you look like someone and it's bringing back some memories for me," Logan tells you.

"Oh. Do you want to talk about it? If it makes you feel better, Wade has told me weirder things and more depressing things," you tell him. Logan let out a small chuckle.

"Maybe not now. I'm sorry for running out while you were introducing yourself."

"That's okay. Let's reintroduce ourselves. I'm Y/n. It's nice to meet you," you smiled at him.

"It's nice to meet you too. I'm Logan."

"Hi Logan. So, did you have to suffer with Wade alone for a couple of days too?" You asked him. Logan laughed a little.

"Yeah. I did."

"I can tell. You have a tired look on you," you laughed a little. Logan smiled softly, hearing your laugh. It was no different from his universe's you.

"You know, the party is upstairs and we are missing it," you tell him.

"That's true. Let's go," Logan said as he followed you back upstairs.

During the party, you sat next to Vanessa as you both were catching up. Logan kept looking at you whenever he could as he talked to Laura.

"You like her," Laura tells Logan loud enough for only him to hear.

"Come on kid," Logan groaned a little.

"She's pretty. And Wade talked to her about letting me stay with her and the other X-Men," Laura tells him.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Apparently she's a good teacher both education wise and powers wise," Laura tells him.

"She always was," Logan said, looking back at you. Your eyes met Logan's, making you smile at him.

"Oh he's cute. You should totally get with him when you can," Vanessa encouraged.

"You think I should?" You asked her.

"Yes! Plus he's handsome," Vanessa nudged.

"And his abs are amazing," Wade mentioned to you. You looked at Vanessa who also had the same look of interested with you.

At the end, you grabbed your bag and jacket before saying goodbye to Blind Al and Wade.

"You ready to check out the school?" You asked Laura.

"Yeah."

"Can I actually ask you something before you leave, Y/n?" Logan asked you.

"Sure. What's up?" You asked as you walked over to him.

"Would you like to go on a date with me sometime?" Logan asked you. You felt your cheeks heat up as you smiled happily.

"Yeah. I'd like that. Here's my number," you tell him as you wrote it down really quickly for him.

"Call me."

"I will."

"Alright. I'll see you soon hopefully," you tell him.

"See you soon."

"Bye, Logan," Laura waved at him before following you out.

"So, are you two just going to adopt Laura and start a family?" Wade asked him.

"Leave it."

"Just letting you know, she likes it rough in bed."

"You and her had sex?"

"Nope. But I did overhear her and Vanessa talk about what they liked in the bed one time," Wade tells him. "And trust me. She may look sweet and innocent, but she is a bit of a masochist."

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett imagine #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine imagine #hugh jackman #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman imagines #xmen #xmen imagine #marvel #marvel imagine #alisonwritesimagines

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missadangel · 2 months ago

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MAKE HIM DISLIKE LOVE YOU

Harry Castillo x Reader (The Materialists)

Chapter 10: Here Without You

prev chapter series masterlist next chapter

Chapter Summary: As you try to heal from your heartbreak, you find out that Harry is leaving NYC. Warnings: 18+ (smut, MDNI) kinda romantic comedy stuff, fluffy, angst, lying, soft and caring Harry Castillo, Lucy as his ex, John as Lucy's ex, wealth, expensive gifts, drinks, money, cars, language, sexual tension, oral sex, p in v sex, kissing, slow burn, power imbalance, I might have missed some warnings; I will update them in due time. Chapter Word Count: 9,2k, ANGST, LONGING, HURT, jealousy, love, feelings, fluffy, rom-com, lust, passion, dirty talk, stuck in elevator (sorry for the cliche or not sorry) authors note: changed the main moodboard according the rest of the story hope you like :) Thank you all for your support, asks, comments, reblogs and likes. I appreciate each and every one of you! Love you all!

"I don't know what happened… It was just after midnight. At first, I thought you had come back early since you told me you’d return in the morning. When I opened the door, I was so shocked and heartbroken that I froze for a moment. It was her. She was drenched from the rain outside—not just a little wet, but completely soaked, as if she had walked through the downpour. She was wearing a black trench coat, expensive high heels, and diamond earrings, a necklace that hinted she had just come back from some fancy event, but everything was drenched. I initially thought her face was wet from the rain until I realized I was mistaken when I heard her uncontrollable sobs...

...She was shaking from crying so hard. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around her and asked what was wrong. I let her in, but she remained silent, only sobbing and crying. I figured she would eventually calm down and share what was wrong, but she didn’t. She cried for so long that I ended up scolding her, worried that something was seriously wrong. She’s a strong woman, someone who has cried before, but this felt different—her tears took me back to the time she lost her mother. I panicked; you can't imagine how long it took to bring her out of that state. She was just 14, a teenager, and the grief was overwhelming. I didn’t know how to help her now that she was in such a state again. When she finally got her sobs under control, I thought she would explain, but instead, she asked..." Zoe let out a deep, troubled sigh, filled with frustration.

“She asked, ‘Can I stay here for a few days?’ and that was that.”

John propped himself up on his elbow, studying Zoe's face in the dim light. “So, she didn’t tell you what made her so upset, what brought on the tears?”

“No, not a word.”

“What could have happened between them? They seemed so happy together.”

“I can’t say for sure, but whatever it was, it feels pretty serious.” Zoe sat up in bed, looking troubled. “John, she didn’t even bring her suitcase. Can you believe it? And she wandered the streets for hours dressed like that. I don't know what that Castillo did to her, but the next time I see him, I'm gonna kick his ass.”

John lightly brushed her back. "Chill out. Maybe we shouldn't jump in just yet. Once she feels better and gets her head straight, she’ll tell us everything. This is all new—she just broke up. Let's give her some space."

"John, it's been three days. She hasn't stepped out of her room, not eating anything, and I'm going out of my mind with worry. I really think it was a bad idea for her to date him. I mean, he’s a billionaire, and they just don’t really fit together, do they? What do guys like him know about people like us? We always end up getting hurt in the end, right? They can throw around millions to deal with their issues and feel better, while we’re stuck in our small apartments, still having to drag ourselves to work the next day, no matter how we feel sad."

“Zoe, baby, I’m not a fan of Harry, but I think you’re being a bit unfair. He does seem to care about her; he even introduced her to his family. That's a big deal for a guy like him—it's kind of like the first step before tying the knot."

Zoe frowned at him. "I don't fuckin' care. My cousin is crying in the next room because of him, and she means more to me than anything else. From now on, we officially hate Harry Castillo, period."

John sighed and shrugged. “Alright, whatever you want. I’ve hated him before, so it won’t be too hard for me,” he said with a smile. “Should we start by unfollowing him on Instagram?”

Zoe rolled her eyes, grinning back at him. “You silly goose.” She wrapped her arms around him and planted a kiss on his lips.

"What do you mean he didn't come out of the bedroom?"

"I'm telling you, he said he didn’t want to come out. He handed me these documents and said, ‘You know what to do, get it done.’"

Maria examined the documents Oliver had mentioned, this time with greater scrutiny.

“How the heck did that fucker even sign these?”

Oliver crossed his arms. "I have no clue. Like I said, Harry didn’t mention anything."

Maria narrowed her eyes in thought. "This is really bizarre, Ollie. The day Alan signed these, Harry broke up with his girlfriend—the one he loved so much he was practically ready to propose—and locked himself in his bedroom."

“Yeah, it’s odd,” Oliver agreed. “But these documents are pretty detailed. Look at this clause—here, it says Party A will voluntarily withdraw from all lawsuits.”

"How is it that, after all that plotting to take Harry down, he suddenly signed these overnight and gave up? I need to figure this out."

"Maybe, but now’s not the time. I have to head to the company right away," he said, taking the documents back from Maria and carefully placing them in his briefcase.

As Maria slowly approached Harry's bedroom, Oliver noticed her.

“We should go together,” he warned. “Leave him be; he needs some space."

Maria shook her head, deep in thought. She wanted answers to the whirlwind of questions racing through her mind, but she had to push them aside for now and concentrate on the task at hand. She grabbed her coat and bag, ready to leave, when she spotted Harry's phone on the counter.

Glancing at Oliver, who was walking through the hall toward the elevator, she quickly picked up the phone. She was desperate to find any clue about Harry’s situation, consequences be damned. Knowing the screen lock, she dialed it in and unlocked the phone. She immediately launched the messaging app. The last message was from you, accompanied by a smiling photo of you at the fair.

"Sopapilla pie is a hit at our booth today. Thanks for the idea, ol' man."

She let out a sigh and went back to the main screen, freezing when she saw a message from an unregistered number sent at 10:29 last night. Shock coursed through her—it was your photo taken in the lobby of Alan's hotel. The caption below was even more alarming:

"It’s an interesting feeling to have a man’s most prized possession. Yes, I’m talking about your girlfriend, Castillo."

"Son of a bitch," Maria murmured. "Now it all makes sense.”

“John!”

Zoe’s worried voice jolted John awake. He rubbed his eyes and squinted in her direction, still half-asleep. “Zoe, are you okay?” he mumbled.

“I’m fine, but she…” Zoe glanced back, her concern clear.

John quickly moved to her side. “What happened?” he asked, running a hand through his messy hair, stepping into the living room.

As they walked in, the warm, sweet smell of freshly made pastries filled the air, catching John off guard. He was even more surprised by what he saw.

“This happened,” Zoe said, pointing at you.

You had just placed a stack of pancakes on a plate and set it on the table, and when you noticed their shocked expressions, you tried to ignore, lightening the mood. “Come on, guys. Breakfast is ready—I made pancakes.” you said, forcing a cheerful tone.

Zoe and John exchanged glances, looking both confused and hesitant as they approached the table. While you went to grab the syrup, Zoe sat down and stared at the food you’d prepared. When you returned, you felt their eyes boring into you.

“Stop looking at me like I’ve killed someone in front of you and start eating,” you muttered, taking your own seat.

John grinned at your joke, reaching for a pancake. “They look delicious—”

But before he could take a bite, Zoe slapped his hand, causing him to drop it. “Seriously?" She turned to you. “You’ve barely said a word in days, and suddenly you decide to make pancakes?”

Zoe’s straightforward personality usually didn’t phase you, but today it felt like a punch. You took a deep breath and drizzled syrup on your pancake, keeping your voice even. “I thought it’d be nice to do something for you since you’ve put up with my grumpy face for days.”

Just then, your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you pulled it out, feeling a tightness in your chest when you saw it was the shopkeeper calling. Noticing Zoe's steady gaze, you slipped into the kitchen to take the call.

“Can I eat now?” John whispered to Zoe. She rolled her eyes at him then turned her gaze, watching you.

After the call, you rejoined them at the table, feeling heavy with what you needed to say.

“Who called?” Zoe asked, curious.

“The owner wants to meet today to finalize the lease. If I don’t go, he’ll rent it to someone else,” you said, your eyes fixed on the table. “I need to tell him I can’t do it.”

Zoe leaped up. “Are you kidding? Do you really want to throw away all the hard work you’ve put in? This is your dream for fuck sake.”

"We can handle the first month's rent, but I'm really concerned about the second. What if the shop's income isn't enough to cover it? Plus, there are still more supplies we need to buy. I'm just not sure if I can manage all of this," you admitted, meeting her gaze.

Harry would rent the shop on your behalf, and by the end of the month, you’d settle the payment between the two of you. That was the arrangement, but it all became complicated clearly because of the last incident that occurred between you.

That’s when Zoe asked the question you’d been dreading. “What happened between you two?”

There was a long silence, and you knew they were waiting for an answer, but you just weren’t ready.

John broke the quiet, finishing off his last pancake. “Girls, I can help with the second month's rent.”

Zoe turned to him, looking surprised. “But your audition is coming up.”

He shrugged. “I’ll catch the next one. This is way more important. Auditions can wait.”

“No!” Zoe shot back. “No one gives up on their dreams. You’re going to that audition, and you…” she said, pointing at you, “are going to open that bakery. As for me, I’ll work in your shop, serving customers the desserts you make, and I’ll keep the tips. We’ll probably argue about it too. Yes, my dream is that simple—so what?”

You smiled at her.

"Look, everyone was amazed at the fair, raving about your desserts and bakery. You did an amazing job, girl. They can’t wait for you to open the shop. We’ll make this happen together. We don’t need anyone else's financial support. We’ve been doing just fine on our own, and we’ll continue to do so," Zoe said confidently.

You nodded, feeling a burst of determination. “We will make it work.”

Zoe reached out and wiped a tear from your cheek. “Now tell me everything, because you can't really let it go if you keep it inside. I know you well.”

You sighed, tears started to flow harder.

John stood up. “I think I'd better go to work now,” he said, kissed Zoe on the cheek, and then touched your shoulder. The pancakes were so yummy. And as for the other thing, Zoe and I are here for you, no matter what. I really believe your bakery café is going to shine in Manhattan. But I do have some worries about the other shops in the city; I’m not sure if NYC is quite ready for it all yet,” he said, grinning.

“It better be ready,” Zoe said. “Because we're coming in roaring.”

“Thanks, guys,” you said, smiling at them both. “Appreciate it.”

John waved to you both as he walked out the door and left the apartment.

“Alright, now I want to hear all about it,” Zoe urged, her eyes fixed on you. You felt the urge to share, but a wave of shame washed over you.

“I’m really sorry, but I’m just not ready to talk about it yet, Zoe. So please don’t ask.” You sighed. “But I promise you, regardless of how things unfold, I will open that shop,” you declared, pledging not only to her but also to the determined spark within yourself.

The following day, after breakfast, you and Zoe were busy compiling a list of essentials as you prepared for the shop's opening day. Meanwhile, John was watching the news on TV when a mention of Harry's company made you freeze.

“It appears castillofunds.co has pulled itself back from the brink of bankruptcy. This significant turnaround seems to have eased market tensions, with the company's shares rising again. Speaking to our cameras, castillofunds.co CEO and billionaire Harry Castillo—”

John turned off the TV with a sigh, and an awkward silence fell over the room. You returned to your list, trying to shake off the impact of what you had just heard.

“They managed to save the company so quickly; I wonder how they managed that,” Zoe remarked, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye.

You kept writing, even as your hand trembled slightly. “Oven,” you sighed. “I think a functional oven might be too small. An industrial one would be more suitable for our 200-sq-ft kitchen, but we could also look into commercial options to save space. Then we can decide with how many levels we’ll need.” You spoke as if hearing his name hadn't affected you, though deep down, you felt your heart tighten. You knew that adjusting to this would be difficult, but you had to push through it.

Later that evening, after a long shopping trip to the supplier, you and Zoe returned to the shop. As you tallied everything up on the list, you checked off items one by one. You had set your sights on opening during the weekend, and by then, everything needed to be in order. The busy schedule had become a welcome distraction from the painful memories that lingered in your mind.

However, as you walked down the street to head home, your heart sank once more when your phone rang.

It was Valeria calling.

You hesitated to answer, but curiosity got the best of you. She asked you to drop by her house. What could that be about?

Had she heard about your breakup with Harry?

You really didn’t want to go, yet knowing she couldn’t leave the house, you decided to visit since her place was close to yours.

When you arrived at Valeria’s house, memories flooded back, and anxiety washed over you. Your heart still ached and you missed his face dearly, you weren’t emotionally or mentally prepared for this encounter. Yet, you suspected he wouldn’t be there—after all, he was busy with the company these days. It seemed absurd to think he’d be waiting for his ex-girlfriend at his mother’s house, especially one he was still angry with.

Valeria spotted you as you walked in, and to your surprise, she opened her arms and hugged you tightly.

“Thank you for coming,” she said, stepping back to scrutinize your face. “You look so pale, dear,” she remarked, gently touching your cheek. “Just like him,” she added with a frown. “What’s going on?”

You sighed, frustrated at how unprepared you felt to answer that question. She took your arm and guided you to the couch, settling across from you. “Harry returned this a few days ago,” she said, showing you the ring.

Your heart clenched at the sight, yanking you back to that night. You blinked rapidly, trying to hold back tears. “Valeria, it doesn’t matter what happened. It’s just... it’s over.”

“But you two were so happy together. What changed so suddenly?” she pressed, concern etched on her face. “If I could just get out of this house, I'd go and kick his 42-year-old ass, but I'm stuck here because of this damn illness."

“Maybe this is better for both of us,” you murmured, though the words stung as you spoke.

Valeria frowned, reaching for your hand, holding it firmly. “How can this be better for both of you, dear? I may not see my son often, but I know him. If he loved you enough to bring you here, he won’t let you go easily. I saw it in his eyes—something I haven’t seen in a long time. You care deeply for him too. A love like that is rare; don’t lose it.”

“Valeria, you’re right. However, when the person you love is also the one who broke your heart, healing can feel almost impossible.”

Just then, Sofia walked into the living room. “Maria is here,” she announced, her eyes landing on you, filled with a mixture of sympathy and concern.

Moments later, Mia dashed into the room, nearly tackling Valeria with a hug. “Valeria!”

“Hey, cariño,” she said, spreading her arms wide for the embrace.

As Valeria stood up, you and Maria locked eyes, both taken aback by the unexpected meeting. You glanced over her shoulder, relieved to see that only they had arrived.

You definitely weren't ready to see him yet.

Mia hugged you tightly. “There you are too.”

“How’s it going, Mia?” you asked.

“Not so good,” she said with a frown. “Why don’t you come by Uncle Harry’s place anymore? Did you break up?”

You felt a lump in your throat.

“Baby, how about going to swing in the garden?” Maria suggested, trying to change subject.

Sofia took Mia’s hand. “Come on, sweetie, I’ll push you on the swing. And then we can check the little pot for strawberries and see if they’re ripe.”

“Yes, yes. I want some strawberries!” Mia clapped her hands, full of excitement.

You watched them head into the garden with a smile, then turned back to Valeria. “I should probably get going. Our bakery opens this weekend. I know you can't leave the house, but I wanted to invite you anyway.”

“I wish I could, dear. I hope you have a ton of customers,” she said, giving you a warm hug.

“Thanks so much.”

“We’ll come with Mia,” Maria chimed in with a smile. “She was super curious about the bakery anyway."

"Totally, I'd love to have you both."

"I’ll walk you to the door.”

"Sure." You nodded and said goodbye to Valeria. Once you reached the door, Maria finally broke the silence. She looked like she had something important to say.

“I know everything,” she said, catching you by surprise.

You looked at her, bewildered.

How did she find out?

“Did he tell you?” you asked, feeling a surge of anger at yourself for still finding it hard to say his name.

“No, Harry’s pretty quiet these days. All he says is 'yes,' 'no,' or 'okay,'” she joked, but you looked down at your feet, unable to laugh.

“Look, I’m really sorry. This is all my stupid husband Gerardo’s fault and mine. He’s been drinking and gambling since the divorce stuff came out. He’s done this before, but losing that much in one night in Vegas and then stealing from the company—that was all Alan’s doing. I met with him that day to work out some sort of payment plan, but of course, he refused. All he cared about was Harry, trying to play him and turn him against his friends. His final move was you; that one hit him hardest.Even if the company crumbles, he had you by his side; you were there for him, you know. But once you turned to Alan, he likely experienced a profound sense of loss, as if something truly valuable was slipping away from him.

“Are you saying I’m at fault here?” you probed.

“No, that’s not what I meant. I hate that we let that motherfucker win. The reason I requested some time from Alan was to have the opportunity to finish him off.”

“What do you mean?”

“Alan is a drug dealer. I’ve been trying to prove it, but he’s too slick with hiding his tracks.”

"Are you sure? How are you going to figure that out by yourself anyway?"

“If he’s got people backing him, then so do I. I’ll make sure he pays for everything he’s done, for every tear my daughter has shed because of her dad.” Then Maria pulled you in for a hug. “Thanks to you, we didn’t get kicked out of our house and the company stayed afloat. I really appreciate it. However you can’t underestimate how tough this must be for Harry. But I believe your love can pull you through."

“If it had, he wouldn’t have said those things to me.”

"I have no idea what he said, but he was probably super hurt and pissed off. Anyone would lose it after seeing that pic and the kind of message that jerk sent."

“Message?”

“You didn't know?”

You recalled that moment; you only saw the photo, not the message.

Maria pulled out her phone to show you the screenshot she had taken from Harry's phone.

That asshole, send both a photo and a disgusting message to Harry.

And he promised you he wouldn’t. You could feel the frustration building up for ever getting involved with him.

Seriously, why did you even trust that fucker in the first place?

“Maria, are you really sure he’s a drug dealer?”

“Yes, and money laundering is part of the equation too. My friend at the OCCB has been after him for ages, just waiting for him to slip up."

You stood there, stunned.

Secret meetings in his penthouse or at that restaurant where the waiters always seem to gossip—yeah, you brushed it all off because he didn’t really matter to you. But you never thought it could actually be this serious. “I want in on this. I want to help take him down,” you said, feeling determined.

Maria’s eyes widened. “What the... Are you serious? This is way too risky. What can you even do? No, no, you need to stay out of it, especially after everything he's already put you through.”

Well she was right; you were no longer his employer. And you really didn’t want to get close to him—no closer than a hundred inches.

“I just hope the police can figure this out so he pays for what he’s done.”

“He will, don’t worry.”

You sighed. “Anyway, it’s getting late. I need to get ready for the opening. I’ll see you this weekend.”

She nodded. “Okay, we’ll be there,” she said, smiling back at you.

As the opening day approached, the hustle and bustle intensified, but everything was finally in place. The signage was up, all business documents were ready, and the cake and bakery display cabinets were stocked. Tables, chairs, cutlery, crockery, and the cash register were all set, along with cupboards and everything else necessary for a smooth operation. Early that morning, you arrived at the shop with Zoe and John to start preparations.

After hours of baking freshly made pastries and designing decadent desserts, you finally sank into a chair, sweat glistening on your forehead. Glancing at the wall clock—its hands creeping toward opening time—you felt a wave of relief wash over you; every last detail had finally come together. With a shared spark of anticipation, you and Zoe stepped outside to flip the "Open" sign for the first time. The thrill of possibility raced through your veins, the fulfillment of a dream that had burned brightly for so long. Yet, a nagging feeling of bitterness lingered, as something didn’t feel quite right, and you knew exactly what it was.

You always pictured this day with him by your side, but now it’s clear he’s missing, and no matter how hard you try to pretend ignoring that reality, you can't escape it, and the pain just lingers.

The opening attracted a crowd—Zoe, some mutual friends, and even Melanie, who surprised you with her presence. Dressed more conservatively than usual, she managed to deliver a decent speech, though her forced demeanor gave you pause. Valeria couldn't attend, but she called to congratulate you and sent a beautiful bouquet through Sofia, for which you were grateful to have as well. Everyone was gathered—everyone, that is, except him. His absence weighed heavily on your heart, and surrounded by laughter and smiling faces, you felt more alone than ever. No matter the anger or pain you felt toward him, a part of you ached for his presence; you realized you needed him.

If the crowd hadn’t been so thick, you might have caught a glimpse of him in the street, watching from his car. You could have seen the way his eyes, filled with longing, would search for you in the sea of faces, but you were oblivious to his presence.

Amidst the bouquets of flowers arriving, one arrangement caught your eye. A stunning mix of pink roses and peonies—your favorites—was clearly crafted by someone who knew you well. You picked up the card, it read, 'Congratulations on your grand opening. H.'

Your instincts kicked in, and you scanned the street, but he had already disappeared. A small smile crept onto your lips, grateful for his kindness, yet the pain of his absence only deepened. Memories of his last words replayed in your mind, stinging deeper with each recollection.

"Hey!" A familiar voice snapped you back to reality. It was Oliver, who came over to embrace you.

“Thanks for coming,” you replied, mustering a smile.

He returned your smile, and for a moment, you both gazed at the bouquet of flowers. “He wanted to do one last thing for you before he leaves,” Oliver murmured.

“Before he leaves?”

Just then, Maria, who had spotted Oliver from a distance, rushed over. "Who's leaving?"

"Harry," Oliver said. “He has a flight to Paris at 10 PM.”

“Are you serious? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

"He didn't want me to. He’s still upset with you, Maria."

"You should have told me anyway! I thought he was staying for a few months. Why’s he in such a rush?"

Oliver’s gaze shifted to you. Your heart tightened as you noticed the sadness in his eyes.

“Damn, he’s doing it again. He’s leaving just like he did before, isn’t he?”

Oliver exhaled sharply. “I’m afraid he doesn’t plan on returning this time, He then handed you a large envelope. “He asked me to give you this.” Your heart raced as you opened the envelope, curiosity piqued. As you pulled out the contents, both you and Maria stood in stunned silence. The documents revealed that he had transferred over 56% of the company’s shares into your name, accompanied by the deed to his penthouse and several other crucial papers. Notably, there was a handwritten note that read, 'If you won’t be in my life, I don’t need any of this.'

“He’s giving up the company?” Maria wailed in disbelief.

"Yes. He transferred the company shares to her, as you can see, and entrusted the day-to-day management to the board of directors. Additionally, he put a new policy in place to safeguard the company ahead of the upcoming court case. He plans to take the helm of the subsidiary in Paris, where he has previously made investments with private equity."

Maria was furious. “Fuck, Harry. He can’t just leave like this. We have to do something to stop him."

“I agree, which is why I came here,” Oliver said, fixing his gaze on you again. “His flight is in about an hour.”

You struggled to respond—your brain was buzzing.

Maria turned to you with pleading eyes. "You need to stop him. You’re the only one who can do it. He won’t listen to me."

Oliver gave you a similar look. “He won't listen to anyone else, but if he sees you, maybe he’ll change his mind.”

“She's not going anywhere!” Zoe exclaimed, clearly having overheard the entire conversation. She approached Maria, her anger palpable. "She's already been through so much, and now she’s just supposed to beg him not to leave?"

While inside the shop, everyone was reveling in the opening party, outside, a very different scene was unfolding.

You gently touched Zoe’s shoulder. “Zoe.”

Maria ignored her and locked eyes with you. "I’m not saying this for the company's sake, I swear. I think of Harry as my brother and you as my sister. Look, I know you still care about him. If not stopping him from leaving means saying goodbye to Harry forever, can you really live with that?."

Deep down, you already knew the answer. The thought of not speaking to him again loomed large, and while separation might seem bearable with him still in the city, the impending reality of him being miles away—perhaps forever—was a crushing weight on your chest.

"Please, don’t let him leave like this," Maria pleaded.

“You don’t have to do this,” Zoe insisted.

With tears welling in your eyes, you replied, “Yes, I do.”

As the taxi rolled to a stop at the airport, you instinctively checked your watch—9:54 PM winked back at you. A wave of urgency washed over you, making your heart race as if it were caught in your throat. The relentless questions clawing at your mind—what if you couldn't reach him in time?

What if he had already slipped away?—stirred a palpable dread within you. Bursting through the glass doors, you stepped into the cool, crisp night air. Your eyes were immediately drawn to a sleek jet, its metallic skin glimmering under the harsh airport floodlights, poised for takeoff. Nearby, a black Mercedes loomed, its polished surface reflecting the shimmering lights of the tarmac. A rush of relief flooded your veins—it hadn’t all slipped away yet; the jet was still grounded, holding the promise of a chance.

You moved in closer and spotted him just behind, slowly ascending the steps of the jet. Without hesitation, you took off running. “Harry!” you called out, your voice ringing out like a desperate plea for help.

For a moment, he stood frozen, eyebrows raised in disbelief, as if he couldn’t believe the voice he had longed to hear was actually there. Slowly, he turned in your direction. Everything around you faded away, and you felt a magnetic pull towards him, your eyes locked together. When you got close enough, you could feel the heat radiating off him. Realizing how much you missed him hit you like a punch in the gut. Looking into his deep brown eyes, glistening in the light, you struggled to keep the tears at bay. He was wearing a caramel blazer and black pants, his dark curls dancing in the breeze.

Neither of you dared to speak for a while, unsure of what to say, yet the emotions in your eyes told a different story. You finally took a deep breath, breaking the silence. "You were just going to leave? Without saying goodbye?"

He looked away, then back at you. "I thought you wouldn't want to talk to me anymore, or maybe you'd even slap me again," he said with a faint smile.

"I wanted to, especially in my dreams."

He nodded slightly, a smile lingering, though a hint of sadness crossed his face.

You held out the envelope. "This isn’t who Harry Castillo is. The man I know wouldn’t just run off like a coward. He would face his mistakes head-on and work to make things right."

His expression hardened as tears glistened in his eyes, on the brink of falling. "I’m just a foolish man who didn’t value the woman he loved and lost her love."

Gazing into his eyes, you could see the regret reflected there, and you struggled to hold back a sob. "Maybe," you whispered softly. Sniffling, you handed him the envelope. "Take this back." He hesitated before reaching for it. "Your mother, your friends, and your company need you."

He glanced at the envelope in his hand. "What about you?" he asked then, looking deeply into your eyes.

You searched for the right words, a tear sliding down your cheek slowly. "You were right about what you said. I shouldn’t have gone to him, but my love for you blinded me to everything else. I was willing to sacrifice everything for your well-being, even my own self. I see now that it was a huge mistake." You exhaled with a shaky breath. "I guess when you put someone before yourself, you can end up making some pretty foolish choices. Even if nothing happened, I felt terrible. It wasn't the right thing to do."

Harry frowned, the corners of his lips turning up slightly. "Nothing happened?"

You shot him a glare. "Why are you smiling?"

He grabbed your shoulders. "Why didn't you mention that earlier?"

You pushed his arms away in frustration. "What difference does it make?"

"It makes a huge difference."

With a troubled sigh, you turned your gaze down. "You don’t understand. When I went there, I accepted everything; I was ready. All I could think about was you. I threw aside my pride. But now I see how big of a mistake that was. How could I have done something like that? I've never felt so ashamed in my life." You sobbed, tears flowed freely now.

He stepped forward, wrapping you in his arms. "You don’t have anything to be ashamed of. It’s that bastard who should be ashamed. I’m truly sorry for how I reacted. I was consumed with anger, and knowing he touched you... I wanted to kill him.”

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. "Yeah, you were angry— so angry that you didn’t care how I felt.”

"You’re right," he admitted, his voice heavy with regret as he averted his gaze. "But we can leave this all behind us. We can get through it together," he added with a glimmer of hope.

“I'm sorry, Harry, but I don’t think I can,” you said resolutely, wiping away the tears that streaked your face and pushing back the whirlwind of feelings within.

His frown deepened as he looked at your eyes, clearly surprised and perhaps even more hurt than before.

"I loved you so much that I lost myself, my dreams, and what I truly wanted. When I made that choice, I believed wholeheartedly that our love could overcome anything, but I was mistaken. It didn't."

He gently cradled your face in his hands. "Give me a chance—one opportunity to show you that we can overcome anything together."

“Harry,” you whispered, holding his hands tightly. "I can't. I don't know if I’ll ever be able to forgive myself or forget everything, but I can't do it now."

His brown eyes glistened with tears as he saw the determination mixed with hurt in yours. He had hurt you more than he realized. "It wasn’t cowardice that led me to want to walk away," he said, his voice breaking slightly as he withdrew his hands. "I was aware of the pain I caused you, and I thought your life might be better off without me. I wanted to step back and let you move on."

You shook your head. "No matter how angry I get with you, no matter how much you hurt me, my world means nothing without you in it, Harry Castillo." A small, bittersweet smile crossed his lips. "So don’t go anywhere. Embrace your responsibilities, and then maybe we can revisit this conversation later."

He nodded with resolve. "As you wish. But I promise, this time, I will make things right.”

“What do you mean you’re not together?”

Zoe asked one morning as you both arrived at the bakery.

You glanced at her while tying your apron. “I told you, there’s nothing between us.” She moved closer as you poured flour into the kneading machine.

“Nothing? My ass! Girl, you went to the airport and brought him back. I just don’t understand how you ended up in the ‘let’s stay friends’ mode.”

“We decided to talk about it later.”

“You’re going to talk later? That's not a good idea I'm telling you. One must be blind not to see the attraction between you. How can you stay away from each other with that kind of chemistry?”

“Can you pass the sugar?” you asked, brushing off her question.

She fetched some sugar from the sack and measured it into the machine. “Fine, but this is silly. I don’t get why you’re acting like this when it’s clear you both really care about each other. You guys are nuts.”

You chuckled; in a way, she was right.

It felt good that Harry hadn't disappeared and that you still had the chance to bump into him on the street and chat, even if he wasn't your boyfriend anymore. The attraction was undeniable, but staying apart for now would probably be better for both of you, wouldn’t it?

After baking all the pastries, as you prepped the cake batter, customers began trickling in. You’d hired another waiter since you and Zoe were struggling to manage the shop. He was a friend of John’s, around your age, a little clumsy, but he was the only one you could find who was willing to work for cheap. Zoe was showing him the ropes. Maybe someday you’d get someone with more experience, but for now, you were just focused on keeping the shop afloat.

Fortunately, business was booming more than you had anticipated, and you were confident it would only improve. Your mind was always churning with ideas for new recipes.

“Here we go,” Zoe grumbled.

You looked up to see what had caught her attention. She was staring at someone sitting at a table outside. You recognized him instantly, even with his sunglasses on—the way he sat, his tailored suit, that gleaming wristwatch, and that grin. He waved at you, and you couldn’t help but let out a sigh.

It had only been two days since you last spoke at the airport. As he promised, he had taken over the company and moved back into his penthouse. But what was he doing here in your shop? You fought the impulse to smile and walked over to him.

“Good morning, sunshine. Your bakery is lovely,” he said, glancing around.

“Harry, what are you doing?”

“Just trying to order breakfast.”

You crossed your arms. “So you’re here as a customer?”

He leaned toward you, removed his sunglasses, and smirked. “Exactly.”

You narrowed your eyes. “What would you like?”

He scanned the menu. “What would you suggest, chef?” he said, pointing to the title next to your name on the name tag of your apron.

“Well, it depends on how hungry you are. If you’re really hungry, I’d recommend the classic American breakfast—your choice of any two eggs with either sausage or ham, served with roasted potatoes.”

He made a thoughtful face. “Sounds good, but it’s not really an egg day for me,” he said, continuing to read. “I think I’ll go with the Croissant Parisien Ham and Cheese. If I’d been in Paris this morning, that’s what I’d have eaten.”

You jotted down his order. “Hmm, would you rather be there?”

“No, I’m happy and lucky to be right here.”

You pressed your lips together to suppress a smile. “Would you like juice or coffee with that?”

“Espresso Vaniglia—I want to try that,” he replied.

Your smile widened.

You knew he loved vanilla, and you had talked about bringing that coffee to life together. “Our signature drink: Vanilla-flavored coffee with espresso and velvety steamed milk, topped with a light foam—you'll absolutely love it.” He grinned in response, recalling that conversation. “I’m sure I will.”

“Your order will be up shortly,” you said, smiling, taking the menu back.

“I can’t wait.” His eyes followed you until you turned away and headed inside. It wasn’t until he ran into Zoe’s scrutinizing gaze that he finally looked away.

“What does he want?” she asked.

“Breakfast,” you replied casually.

“Yeah right," she mumbled. "And by the way, John’s agency called; they accepted the offer we discussed last time; they want some of our pastries for the meeting,” she said happily.

“Hey, that’s fantastic. I’ll prep those orders right away. Can you take Harry’s order?” you asked as she poured kvass into a cup.

"I can't believe I'm serving breakfast to your ex-boyfriend, whom I wasn't too fond of until just two days ago."

“That rich-looking guy is your boyfriend?” Nick asked, staring at you in disbelief.

You shot Zoe a glare. “Ex-boyfriend. But that’s none of your business. He’s just a customer, nothing more.”

“Yeah, right, keep saying that,” Zoe quipped, picking up the tray.

"Get back to work," you said to Nick as you headed inside to the cold storage area to grab the couverture chocolates for the orders.

“Here’s your order, Mr. I don't plan to apologize I'm just here because I enjoy teasing,” Zoe mumbled, placing Harry’s order from the tray onto the table.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "What was that?"

"Oh, I meant to say Mr. Castillo." she replied with mock astonishment.

Harry smirked. "First, you're mistaken; I already apologized. Second, I'm not here to tease anyone."

"Then what’s your purpose here?"

"I came for breakfast," he replied, taking a sip of his coffee.

"So you apologized, huh? If that's the case, why hasn’t anything changed between you two?" she seemed to be musing.

"We're still working through our issues."

"Hm, so that’s your approach."

“Harry! Oh my God, is it really you?”

They both turned at the sound of a high-pitched female voice. Zoe was taken aback as a tall blonde woman rushed over to Harry, wrapping her arms around his neck happily.

"Is this how you working through your issues with your ex-girlfriend, Mr Castillo?"

"Zoe, it’s not what you think. Don't go spreading any nonsense to your cousin." Harry was trying to wiggle free from Stella's hug. Zoe simply shrugged and walked back inside. Harry gently pushed Stella away. "What are you doing here?"

Stella frowned. "I got back to New York yesterday and I was surprised to see you. We haven’t talked in ages," she said as she settled into a seat across from him.

"We can talk later," Harry replied, glancing nervously toward the kitchen. "Can you please leave?"

“Wow, you’ve become so rude. You used to be nice to me,” she retorted.

Harry swallowed hard when he noticed you coming out of the kitchen, making your way to the counter to talk to Zoe. "Well, that was then. I'm a rude man now. So, just go, leave,” he said, waving her off with his hand.

But it was too late; you had seen everything. When you realized that Stella was even more stunning in person than in the photo, you nearly dropped the tray of freshly baked donuts.

Harry stood up and Stella left, walking away angrily. You went back to work, trying your best not to let it bother you.

As Harry entered, he approached you directly, but not before Zoe shot him a dirty look while delivering another order to a customer. “We just crossed paths,” Harry said, glancing at you nervously.

You looked at him, rolling your eyes. "Why are you explaining yourself?"

"I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea."

“I really don’t care, Harry. You can move on,” you replied.

He sighed.

"Because I’m moving on too," you countered, looking him in the eye.

Harry placed his hands on his hips. "What does that mean?”

"It means she's seeing someone now," Zoe chimed in, appearing beside him and winking at you.

You shot her a puzzled look but quickly regained your composure, realizing what she was hinting at. "Zoe, cut it out."

"Just tell him about Theo," she insisted, nodding discreetly toward Harry.

Theo was a friend of John from the talent agency. You only met him once, focusing on work, but Zoe had told you how much he liked you.

"I think you just made that up, ladies," Harry said smugly. "Are you really planning to take revenge like this?"

Suddenly, your feminine side kicked in defensively. "Why? Can’t I move on with my life? Do I belong to you or something? Theo’s a nice guy; I was just delivering these orders. You’re welcome to come see for yourself if you don’t believe me," you said, turning away.

"Okay, I’ll come with you," he said, catching you off guard.

"Wait, you’ll come?"

"Yes, let’s get this sorted. I noticed you don’t have a delivery guy, so how are you going to manage on your own?" He pulled out his phone and called his driver as you and Zoe exchanged nervous glances.

Shit.

You were in trouble now.

On the way to John's agency, Harry kept throwing questions at you, but you managed to dodge them all. What could you even say? You didn’t know anything about Theo yourself. This car ride was awkward enough, and you were kicking yourself for bringing up that Theo lie in the first place.

Damn jealousy.

When you finally got to the agency, you opened the car door and looked over at him. “Thanks for the ride.”

He hopped out, looked back, “Don’t move,” before heading around to your side to take the package from your hands. You got out and said, “You don’t need to come in; I can handle it.”

“At least let me help with that; it’s heavy,” he replied, walking toward the building while you kept pace with him. “Aren’t you late for work?”

“I run the company, remember?”

“Show-off,” you rolled your eyes, fighting back a smile.

Upon entering the building, the receptionist informed you that you needed to head to the twentieth floor. Harry stood next to you beside the elevator door as it ascended from the lower levels, glancing at the digital display. “You should go on ahead; I just need to get to the 20th floor.”

“I doubt that Theo guy is here,” he said, scanning the area.

“He’s probably upstairs,” you replied, feigning confidence.

Just then, Harry's phone rang. “Crap, I’ve got to take this.”

“See? I told you, the elevator’s here. You should go,” you urged.

He carefully handed you the package. “We need to talk about this Theo thing later.”

You shrugged, trying to keep your cool. “Okay, but I have nothing to hide,” you said, dismissing any nerves he might have felt.

The elevator dinged as it reached your floor, and the doors slid open. You couldn't believe your eyes—inside was a bunch of really good-looking guys, all dressed to impress.

It must be audition day or something.

They smiled at you and made room as you stepped inside, turning to press the button for the 20th floor. One of the men beat you to it and offered a charming smile.

“Why are they all so attractive?” Harry muttered, irritation lacing his voice.

You waved to him just as the elevator doors began to close, but he quickly stuck his hand in to stop them. He stepped back inside, looking at someone nearby. “Could you move back a bit?” he asked, reaching around you to press the button to close the doors, his arm lingering behind you.

“What are you doing?” you whispered.

“Nothing."

“I can carry your package if you’d like,” one of the men offered, grinning.

“It smells amazing,” another chimed in.

“Thanks,” you said, returning their smiles.

Harry, ever the protector, took the package back from you. “I’m carrying it.”

“You look a bit too dapper for a delivery guy.”

“If you ask me, that guy looks like that billionaire guy Harry Castillo,” one of them joked.

All the men turned to scrutinize Harry's face, laughter bubbling up from the group. “No way, why would a billionaire be delivering packages?” one of them chuckled.

You chuckled softly as you looked at Harry, who gave you a playful wink.

After a rather odd ride to the 20th floor, you delivered the orders.

When you bumped into John and Theo, you had a quick chat. You intended to tell him that nothing could happen between you. However, to your surprise, Zoe called him on your way here and made things sound much worse than they actually were.

As a result, you ended up promising to go out to dinner with Theo.

Just great.

Harry was waiting for you by the elevator when you returned, the next ride down completely empty. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye as the elevator descended, and you couldn’t help but gaze back at him.

Suddenly, there was a loud noise, and the elevator lurched to a stop. The lights flickered out before turning red. Instinctively, you grabbed Harry’s arm. “What’s happening?”

“Just relax; it’s probably a malfunction,” he said, calmly pressing the emergency button. You listened as the staff assured him they would resolve the issue shortly, but that reassurance did little to quell the panic rising in you. “Hurry, please!” you called out over the loudspeaker.

Harry wrapped his arms around you, and you found solace resting your head against his chest. “It’s okay, baby,” he murmured, gently stroking your hair.

Then it hit you—you were clinging to him, and he called you 'baby'.

Damn.

You quickly pulled back when you felt his lips brush your head.

What the hell?

Shouldn’t you still be upset with him? After all, you weren’t together anymore.

“Sorry, I just panicked,” you said, embarrassed.

“No worries,” he said with a grin.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you snapped, turning your gaze away.

But on the contrary, he moved closer, locking his gaze onto you. In the dim light, the red hue accentuated your features, giving off an irresistibly seductive vibe that was hard to ignore.

Raw.

The way your body quivered under his penetrating gaze revealed a deep-seated longing, a desperate yearning for his touch that sent shivers through your very core.

Intense.

In that moment, just the two of you existed, where feelings entwined with time; a storm of emotions and desires raged within you, turning your thoughts into a chaotic battlefield of longing.

Dangerous.

A flicker of fear danced in your chest, the unsettling realization that the instant his fingers brushed against your skin, you would surrender utterly, yielding every fragment of your being to him without reservation.

Harry leaned against the elevator wall, his hand just inches from your face as he bent down slightly. The intensity of his stare made you swallow hard.

"Please. Don’t," you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper, yet your body betrayed you, yearning for his touch.

But he did, closing the gap as he leaned in toward your lips.

"Just a kiss," he whispered gently, his warm breath mingling with his familiar cologne, his tone filled with tenderness that sent shivers down your spine.

Shit.

You were barely able to stop yourself from throwing yourself into his arms, and he certainly wasn’t making it any easier. His hand traced along the side of your neck and settled over your heart. A sly smile crept onto his face as he felt it racing. "I think you want this too.”

"I don't, uh, we shouldn't, don't you, um, this is not--"

You tilted your head back, hit the wall before you had time to finish your sentence, and before you could breathe, his tongue was in your mouth. The kiss enveloped you in a tantalizing mix of heat and passion, leaving you breathless and yearning for more. It sparked a fire deep inside, awakening a desire that only such a moment could fulfill. This kiss swept over you like a tidal wave, leaving you both dizzy and exhilarated. You found yourself trapped, so trapped—pulled helplessly between fierce desires and an aching longing and a rock-hard super-hot ex-boyfriend. You let out a yelp when your ass slammed against the cold steel of the elevator wall, but you didn't care; you were way too far gone now.

You both moaned when he pressed his full weight against you, pinning you against the steel wall, his hands slid down your waist, under the hem of your dress, to your hips and gripped them tightly. You pulled away from the kiss, gasping for breath, desperately trying to stop him but he seized the moment. Wasting no time, he moved on to your neck, licking, sucking the spot where you were most aroused, a spot he now knew too well. Just like he knew the fastest way to get you wet immediately.

Fuck.

It felt wrong, yet it was also dangerously hot.

You had to stop him or there was no turning back…

Just then, you heard the elevator door slide open, and the lights flickered back to life, causing both of you to freeze. You glanced at each other, stepped back, and quickly tidied your clothes and messy hair. The technical staff offered you nervous smiles. "I hope you're both alright. We sincerely apologize for the technical issue."

“We're fine,” Harry replied, licking his lips as he adjusted his shirt collar, while you smoothed out your dress, your face burning.

As you stepped outside the building, the shock of what had just happened still lingered. You broke the silence as he drove you back to the bakery. “Listen, what just happened there—will stay there, alright?”

“I can still taste you on my tongue, baby,” he said with a chuckle.

You shot him a glare. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” he replied, laughter bubbling up from him.

When the car stopped in front of the shop, you opened the door, glancing at him before stepping out. “Like I said, it never happened. There’s nothing between us, got it?”

“Keep telling yourself that, darling.”

“Hey,” you snapped, raising your finger at him. “Just say 'deal' or I’ll never talk to you again.”

He sighed dramatically. “Okay, okay, it’s a deal.”

“Great. Thanks for the ride,” you said as you closed the door behind you.

“My pleasure,” he said, grinning.

He found himself laughing all the way to work, the memory of those electrifying moments in the elevator replaying in his mind like a favorite song. The rush of adrenaline coursed through him, making him feel alive once more.

It was amazing to be back with you, especially after he thought he might have lost you for good. For the first time, he truly felt grateful.

Now, he had a purpose: to win you back.

Thanks for reading! I really appreciate your comments, likes, and reblogs. I'd love to hear what you think about the chapter!

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shaiyasstuff · 4 months ago

Text

petty | sylus

synopsis : You thought a harmless prank—some red dye, a little glitter—would be funny. But Sylus, your cold, calculating boyfriend, doesn’t get mad. He gets petty.

content : fluff, chaos, N109 Zone au, just sylus being petty af, imagine: rom-com and slapstick comedy

writer’s note : i had this sitting in my drafts for so long LOL

You have no idea how you ended up here.

It was just a silly prank. One you decided—no, more like bullied—into pulling on Sylus.

Luke had that look in his eye, Kieran had that grin, and between the two of them, you’d made a series of very poor decisions.

It started out harmless.

Overheating the dryer until his clothes shrunk just enough to make him glare at his reflection in irritation.

Switching out his toothpaste with mint chip ice cream—cold, foamy, oddly sweet.

Juvenile, yes, but survivable.

But then Luke, bored of mild chaos, decided to up the ante.

Red dye. In Sylus’ face wash.

You should’ve stopped him.

You really should’ve.

Now you’re backed up against the cold steel wall of the corridor outside your shared quarters.

Sylus stands in front of you, arms braced on either side of your head, caging you in. His body radiates heat like he’s just stepped out of hell itself.

And his face?

Still damp.

Streaked red.

A slow, uneven flush blooming down his jaw and neck like a war paint disaster.

You press your lips together to stifle the laugh climbing your throat.

Not because you’re afraid—well, okay, maybe a little—but because if you so much as snort, you know he’ll make you regret it.

He doesn’t say anything. Just looks at you.

That unreadable, razor-edged stare.

Like he’s measuring the weight of your existence against the trouble you’re worth.

“Sylus,” you start, trying for innocent. “It was—”

“A prank,” he finishes for you, voice low, smooth. The kind of calm that usually precedes mass destruction. “I gathered.”

You open your mouth again, but the words die as he leans in closer, the tips of his silver hair grazing your forehead. His breath ghosts against your cheek.

“You find this funny?” he murmurs, voice like smoke and ice. “My face. My dignity.”

You hold your breath, eyes flicking up to meet his.

“I mean,” you squeak, “you do pull off crimson rather well…”

He doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t smile.

He just tilts his head slightly, gaze trailing down to your lips.

“I see,” he says.

You swallow.

“Sylus?”

He shifts forward, just enough that your bodies nearly touch, and then—click.

You glance down. He’s handcuffed your wrist to the pipe behind you.

One-handed. Effortless.

“What—wait, Sylus!”

He steps back, unhurried, brushing red-streaked water off his jaw with the back of his hand. He looks so composed now, it’s almost unfair.

“I’ll be in the lab,” he says casually, already turning away. “Don’t worry. Luke and Kieran are next. But you…”

He pauses at the doorway, glancing over his shoulder, “You can stay there and think about what you’ve done.”

“Sylus.”

“I’ll come back when I’ve decided how to retaliate.”

Your jaw drops. “You’re not serious—!”

He disappears around the corner, his footsteps fading.

You stare after him, wrist tugging against the cuff. “You petty, beautiful menace!”

And somewhere down the hall, you swear you hear him laugh.

You struggle against the pipe for a solid five minutes.

Nothing.

Sylus had apparently decided that if he was going to cuff you, it would be with reinforced titanium-grade handcuffs.

Because of course he would.

You’re still trying to twist your wrist free when two familiar figures round the corner, arguing loudly.

“—I told you he’d murder us, Kieran.”

“No, you said he’d probably murder us. I figured we had a 20% survival rate if we ran fast enough—oh.”

They freeze when they see you.

You, handcuffed to a wall like some criminally adorable hostage. Hair slightly tousled.

A vein twitching in your temple.

Luke whistles low. “Damn. He actually cuffed you?”

“What was your first clue, Sherlock?” you snap, yanking on the cuff. “The literal metal restraint on my wrist or the rage in my eyes?”

Kieran winces. “Hey, hey, don’t be mad at us—we didn’t put the dye in the face wash.”

“You told Luke to do it!”

Luke, affronted, points at Kieran. “You told me you cleared it with her!”

“I said it would be funny! That’s not the same thing!”

You groan and let your head thump back against the wall. “I’m going to kill both of you. Slowly. With a spoon.”

Luke bites back a grin. “I don’t think Sylus is done with you yet.”

“Un-cuff me before I scream loud enough to summon the Onychinus agents.”

Kieran rummages through his pockets. “You think he left a key?”

“Oh yeah,” you deadpan. “I’m sure Sylus, the most paranoid man alive, just happened to leave a key to his special-grade cuffs on me.”

Luke pulls something out of his jacket and grins. “Good thing I have my trusty lockpick set.”

You squint at him. “Why do you have that?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”

Kieran leans in beside him, watching like this is a group project. “Careful, if you scratch her wrist again she’s going to throw you into traffic.”

“I will throw you into traffic,” you mutter.

“You’re so cute when you’re angry,” Kieran beams.

“Touch me and I’ll break your fingers.”

Luke finally clicks the lock open with a satisfying snap. Your wrist comes free, and you stretch it, rubbing the sore spot with a glare that could melt steel.

“Thanks,” you say flatly. “Now run.”

“Run?” Luke blinks.

“Yes. Run. Before he comes back.”

The overhead lights flicker.

The three of you freeze.

“…That’s him, isn’t it?” Kieran whispers.

You look up slowly, the temperature in the corridor dropping by a few ominous degrees.

“I think he’s coming to check if I’ve learned my lesson,” you murmur.

Luke’s already halfway down the hall. “NOPE. I’M OUT—”

Kieran grabs your hand and drags you after him. “We live in fear now. This is our life.”

Behind you, the sound of measured footsteps echoes through the corridor.

And somewhere between breathless laughter and panic, you realise, this isn’t over.

Not even close.

You bolt through the corridor with Luke and Kieran like you’re fleeing an exploding reactor.

“He’s definitely tracking us,” you gasp.

“He has cameras everywhere!” Kieran hisses. “We’re screwed!”

You dive into the living quarters and slam the door shut behind you. Luke immediately ducks behind the couch. Kieran throws himself dramatically into the pantry.

You stand there for a beat, hands on your hips.

“This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever been involved in.”

“You’re welcome,” Luke’s muffled voice replies from under a throw blanket that’s doing absolutely nothing to hide his legs.

You sigh, yank open a cabinet, and cram yourself inside.

There’s a broom, a vacuum hose, and a suspicious packet of cookies you’re pretty sure expired last year.

“Kieran,” you call through the cabinet slats. “Are you eating?”

“…No,” he says with his mouth full.

“I swear to every celestial body—”

Footsteps. Slow. Measured.

Near.

All three of you freeze like a trio of amateur criminals hiding from a prison warden.

The door creaks open.

You hold your breath.

Nothing.

No words. No movement.

Just the sound of the wind outside the window and your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

“I know you’re hiding,” Sylus calls out. Calm. Even. Like he’s enjoying this.

Luke lets out a soft, wheezing squeak from under the blanket.

You slap your palm over your mouth.

Kieran drops a packet of crackers and panics. “Shit, he’s bluffing! He’s bluffing!”

You burst out of the cabinet. “He’s NOT bluffing!”

All three of you scramble again, crashing into each other like some bootleg spy movie.

Kieran ends up tangled in curtain strings, Luke slams into a chair, and you leap over the kitchen counter and miss, landing with a loud thud.

You’re wheezing on the floor when Sylus walks in.

Unbothered. Unhurried.

Looking like an avenging angel with red-streaked remnants still faintly staining his jawline.

He folds his arms and surveys the disaster with something suspiciously close to amusement.

He walks past Kieran, still suspended in the curtains like a very dumb chandelier.

Past Luke, now pretending to be unconscious on the floor.

Past you.

He doesn’t say a word.

Not a glare. Not a threat. Not even a smirk.

Just a quiet, “Clean up after yourselves,” as he heads into his study.

The door shuts with a soft click.

“…That’s so much worse than yelling,” you whisper.

Kieran groans. “He’s plotting. He’s going to take us out one by one.”

Luke peeks from behind the couch. “He knows we’re scared. That’s why he’s letting us marinate.”

“I hate both of you so much right now,” you mutter, collapsing into the nearest armchair.

Kieran flops beside you and steals the remote. “We should lie low. Maybe bake him something.”

“Cookies fix everything,” Luke nods solemnly.

You glare at them both. “If I die, I’m haunting you in shifts.”

—•

It takes you two hours to gather the courage.

Two hours of Luke stress-eating cereal straight from the box while Kieran googled “how to tell if your boyfriend is planning your murder.”

Two hours of internal debates and spiraling scenarios, most of which ended with your disappearance and Sylus calmly denying any knowledge of your existence.

So now you’re standing in front of his office door like you’ve come to face a firing squad.

You raise your hand, hesitate, lower it again.

Then knock. Once. Softly.

“Come in,” comes his voice, smooth as always.

You open the door slowly. He’s seated behind his desk, glasses on, sleeves rolled up, looking for all the world like a man deep in some technical report.

But you know better.

His eyes flick up to you—and stay there.

“I brought tea,” you say weakly, holding up the mug like a peace offering. Or a shield. “And… a cookie. But Luke sat on it.”

He doesn’t move. Just watches you, unreadable.

You inch forward, placing the mug on the corner of his desk. “Look, I didn’t know about the dye. I mean I did, but I didn’t think he’d actually—okay, no, that’s a lie. I thought it would be funny.”

Silence.

“I was wrong.”

Still nothing.

You shift awkwardly, gaze dropping to the floor. “I’m sorry.”

Finally, he sets his pen down and leans back slightly, eyes still fixed on you.

Then, just when the tension starts to crack your spine.

A small smile.

A smile.

Sharp. Amused.

Dangerous.

“It’s okay,” he says.

You blink. “It… is?”

He nods. “Of course.”

Too easy. Way too easy.

You narrow your eyes. “You’re not mad?”

“Not at all.”

“Really?”

“Mm.”

You inch back a step. “Why does that sound like a trap?”

His smile widens—just a fraction. “I said it’s okay. That’s all.”

You stare at him. He stares right back, like he can hear every thought racing through your brain. Like he’s already playing the long game and you just stepped into it without even knowing.

“Right,” you mutter. “Okay. Cool. Um. I’ll go now.”

You turn on your heel and walk—more like run—out of the room.

The moment the door shuts behind you, you press your back against it, eyes wide.

“He’s going to destroy me.”

And from behind the door, faint and unmistakably amused, comes the sound of Sylus quietly sipping his tea.

You return to the living quarters with the kind of haunted expression usually reserved for horror movie survivors.

Luke looks up from the couch, one leg slung over the backrest like a human pretzel.

Kieran’s on the floor with a blanket cape, eating cereal with a fork.

“Are we dead?” Kieran asks between mouthfuls.

“Not yet,” you mutter.

Luke raises an eyebrow. “That bad?”

“He smiled at me.”

Both twins flinch.

“Was it… the smile?” Luke asks, lowering his voice.

“The ‘I know exactly where your corpse would never be found’ smile?” Kieran whispers.

You throw yourself onto the couch and groan into a pillow. “No. It was worse. It was the ‘It’s okay’ smile.”

Luke gasps dramatically. “No. He went full passive-aggressive Zen reaper?”

“He said it like it was fine. Like I’m fine. Like life is fine. Nothing is fine.”

Kieran crawls up beside you. “That’s psychological warfare. He’s gonna lull you into a false sense of security. Then, boom—next week your toothbrush explodes.”

“I wouldn’t even be mad,” you say into the pillow. “I’d respect the commitment.”

Luke drops beside you, flinging a cushion over your back like a blanket. “You know what this means, right?”

“That I need to sleep with one eye open?”

“No,” he says solemnly. “It means we go deeper.”

You lift your head slowly. “What?”

“He’s playing mind games. So we play worse mind games.”

“I’m sorry, did you hit your head on the stupid stick this morning?”

Kieran grins. “He’s got fear. But we have unpredictable chaos. Sylus doesn’t know how to handle us when we’re not even handling ourselves.”

“Oh, he knows. He just hasn’t decided which part of the house he’ll burn down first.”

Luke leans in. “Okay, hear me out. What if… next prank, we frame someone else?”

“Kieran,” you snap, “Luke is spiraling again.”

Kieran slurps his cereal louder. “Let him spiral. I want to see where it goes.”

You sit up, rubbing your temples. “You two are the reason I’m probably going to end up in some Sylus-designed containment cube labeled ‘Idiot No. 3.’”

Luke perks up. “That means he already made one for you.”

You chuck a pillow at his face. “I hate you.”

Kieran laughs so hard he chokes on his cereal.

And somewhere in the walls—behind silent security panels—you know Sylus is watching.

Letting you run your mouths.

Letting you think you’re safe.

Which is so much worse.

—•

Dinner is suspiciously… normal.

Too normal.

The lighting is warm. The dining room pristine.

The food? Already served and plated like a five-star meal—elegant, balanced, perfectly portioned.

Which is already unsettling, because Sylus doesn’t cook. He commands kitchens into order.

But tonight, he did everything himself.

You sit stiffly at the table, trying not to choke on the silence.

Kieran sits across from you, eyes darting from his fork to Sylus like he’s waiting for the plate to detonate. Luke hasn’t even touched his food.

Which says a lot, because Luke once ate nachos that had been on fire.

Sylus, meanwhile, is the picture of grace.

Calm, composed, every movement deliberate as he cuts into his food with a quiet snick of silverware.

“How’s the meal?” he asks lightly.

You all jump a little.

“It’s great!” Kieran blurts. “So great. Best thing I’ve ever had. Better than oxygen.”

You nudge your plate with the fork. “Um. What exactly is this?”

Sylus smiles—just enough to show it’s a trap. “Roasted pepper-glazed poultry with herb foam.”

“…Foam?” Luke whispers. “Like… bubbles?”

Sylus turns to him. “Yes. But gourmet.”

Luke nods solemnly. “Tastes expensive.”

You take a careful bite. It tastes incredible, which only makes things worse.

Sylus never does anything without intent. You feel like each bite is a move in a game you didn’t know you were playing.

“Is that saffron?” Kieran asks.

Sylus doesn’t look up. “Would I use saffron so early in the week?”

Kieran panics. “No! Obviously not. What a stupid question. Forget I said it. I never even heard of saffron.”

You sip your water. Pause. Sip again.

“Why does the water taste like mint?”

Luke sniffs his glass. “Mine tastes like fear.”

Sylus hums. “I thought I’d try infusing it. Cleansing properties. Refreshing.”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re being nice.”

He looks at you. “Am I not allowed to be?”

“Not like this. You’re being suspiciously serene.”

Luke whispers to Kieran, “He’s baking the tension. Like a soufflé of dread.”

Kieran whispers back, “I’m scared to chew too loudly.”

Sylus finishes his plate, sets his utensils down with the softest clink, and dabs his mouth with a napkin. “Don’t worry. I’m not angry.”

You all freeze.

“I already told you,” he says, folding his hands neatly, “It’s okay.”

You grip the edge of the table.

“No, see, when you say that, it sounds okay, but it feels like I’m about to get smothered in my sleep with a silk pillow.”

Sylus smiles, serene as a saint. “You wound me.”

“Oh my god,” Kieran mutters. “He wants us to feel safe.”

“That’s when he’ll strike,” Luke hisses.

Sylus stands, slow and elegant. “I’ve had a long day. You three can clean up.”

And with that, he walks off—leisurely, utterly calm—leaving behind his perfectly empty plate and three very nervous idiots still staring at their forks like they might be poisoned.

“I think he put lavender in the bread,” Luke says hollowly.

“That’s a threat,” Kieran nods.

You don’t speak. You just slowly lower your fork onto your plate and say, voice soft with realisation.

“We’re already losing.”

—•

It starts the next morning.

Small things.

You wake up and stumble bleary-eyed into the bathroom, only to find your toothbrush… gone. In its place is a child’s pink glittery toothbrush with a tiny bow on the handle and a smug little unicorn printed across it.

You stare at it.

It stares back.

“…Sylus.”

You brush anyway. Because fear is temporary, but oral hygiene is forever.

Down the hall, you hear a scream. Luke.

You race to his room, bursting in just in time to see him holding up a shirt—his favorite shirt—now three sizes too small and bright neon orange.

“He sabotaged the laundry!” Luke wails. “It looks like a highlighter threw up on it!”

Kieran stumbles in a moment later, face pale. “Okay. You know the coffee machine?”

You all pause.

“…What about it?” you ask warily.

“I pressed ‘brew’ and it played classical music. Loudly. Very loudly. And then dispensed chamomile tea.”

Luke gasps. “Decaf?”

Kieran nods. “Herbal.”

You all stand there in silence, the full horror of that registering.

“Okay,” you say slowly, “He’s escalating. This is psychological warfare disguised as hospitality.”

Luke grabs your shoulders. “We have to go off-grid.”

You shake him off. “We live in his grid. He built the grid.”

Kieran paces. “Okay. Okay. So he’s playing the long game. Fine. We stay strong. We don’t break.”

You return to your room to get dressed, trying to reclaim some sense of normalcy.

Your closet is empty.

No. Not empty.

Reorganized.

Everything is sorted by color, occasion, emotional state, and the lunar cycle.

There are even handwritten labels.

LUNAR-ALIGNED NIGHTWEAR.

MILDLY ANNOYED LOUNGE SETS.

IF YOU MUST INTERACT WITH PEOPLE.

You stare.

It’s… kind of impressive.

Still terrifying.

Later that day, your comm device pings with a message.

Hope the toothbrush is to your liking. Unicorns are symbols of purity. Thought it was fitting. —S.

You don’t respond. You can’t.

You sit there in silence, chewing your unsatisfying herbal tea and wondering how one man could be so elegant and so unhinged at the same time.

Back in the kitchen, Luke is attempting to pick the lock on the pantry door—now password protected and voice activated.

Kieran sits on the floor, whispering sweetly to the coffee machine in the hopes it will forgive him.

And all the while, somewhere deep in his office, Sylus watches the surveillance feed with a slight, satisfied smile.

Checkmate? Not yet.

But the pieces were moving.

And he was always ten steps ahead.

—•

It’s late.

Too late for anyone else to be awake. The halls are quiet, dimly lit, the kind of silence that feels intentional.

You creep into the kitchen, determined to retrieve your emergency stash of chocolate hidden behind the vitamin supplements Sylus refuses to acknowledge.

You’ve earned this.

After a day of psychological warfare and sentient appliances, you deserve sugar and solitude.

But the moment you open the cabinet, you hear it.

“Looking for something?”

You jump, nearly drop the jar, and spin around.

Sylus leans casually against the doorframe. Half in shadow. White shirt slightly unbuttoned. Sleeves rolled. Watching you like you’re the most amusing thing he’s seen all day.

You swallow. “Just… needed a snack.”

He hums, low and thoughtful, stepping into the room. “You always get hungry when you’re anxious.”

“I’m not anxious.”

“Of course you’re not.”

He steps closer. Not fast. Not threatening.

Just… there.

Slowly closing the distance until he’s in your space. His eyes flick down to the jar in your hands, then back to you.

“You’ve been quiet today,” he murmurs.

You shrug, heart in your throat. “You’ve been… rearranging my life like an episode of The Big Bang Theory.”

He smiles. Slow. Dangerous.

“You should be grateful. I improved your morning routine, your closet, and your toothpaste. Not many people get this level of attention from me.”

“You replaced my shampoo with glitter gel.”

“I thought you liked shimmer.”

You glare. “Okay, what is this? Revenge lite? Psychological torment with a smile?”

He tilts his head, eyes glittering with that infuriating calm. “Do you think I’d waste my time with petty revenge?”

You hesitate. “…Yes?”

He chuckles. “Fair.”

He leans in just slightly—close enough that you can feel the warmth of him, the way his gaze flickers to your lips and back with deliberate slowness.

“But here’s the thing,” he says softly. “I’m not doing this because I’m angry.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Then what is this?”

His voice drops lower, velvet and ice. “This is a warning.”

You blink. “A warning?”

He raises a brow. “You see, I’m not interested in getting even. I’m not even interested in winning.”

He leans in fully now, mouth near your ear, voice like silk dragged over steel.

“I’m interested in reminding you… that you don’t play games with someone who invented the board.”

Your breath catches.

Then he steps back. Casual.

Smiling.

Completely composed, like he didn’t just dismantle your spine with a whisper.

“Goodnight,” he says smoothly, already turning to leave.

“Sylus—”

He glances over his shoulder, eyes cool, mouth curved in that infuriatingly perfect smirk.

“Sleep well, sweetie. I’ll see you in the morning.”

And then he’s gone, leaving you in the kitchen, heart pounding, chocolate jar forgotten in your hands.

You stare at the door, then mutter to yourself:

“Okay. Yep. We’re all going to die.”

—•

You don’t sleep.

Not really.

Not after that.

You toss. Turn.

Stare at the ceiling.

Replay his words on a loop in your mind.

You don’t play games with someone who invented the board.

You shouldn’t be thinking about the way he said it. Or the way he’d leaned in—close enough to smell your shampoo, the glitter one, traitorous and lemon-sweet.

Or how his voice had dipped low like he wanted to taste the words.

But you are.

And it’s driving you insane.

You last until just before sunrise.

Then you march down the hall in bare feet and defiance, fully intending to demand an end to this madness.

Maybe yell. Maybe shake him.

Definitely not… whatever this fluttering in your chest is.

You stop outside his office.

The door is open.

He’s seated at the far end, back to you, reading something on a tablet. He doesn’t look up when you enter, but he says, “You’re up early.”

Your jaw tightens. “You planned that.”

“I plan everything.”

You walk in, arms crossed. “The glitter. The water. The closet. The toothbrush. You knew it would get in my head.”

He finally turns in his chair, tablet abandoned. “And yet… you came to me.”

You stare at him.

He stares back.

It’s silent.

That heavy, brittle kind of silence where something has to break.

“You’re impossible,” you say quietly.

He tilts his head. “You’re the one who dyed my face red.”

You blink. “That wasn’t me! That was Luke!”

“But you knew.” He stands now, slow and deliberate, each step toward you heavier than the last. “And you laughed.”

“That was after the shock wore off.”

He stops in front of you, so close your breath hitches.

“You like testing me,” he says, almost gently.

Your voice is soft. “You like watching me squirm.”

His lips curve. “Only when you’re cornered.”

Your heart kicks up. “You don’t scare me.”

“No?” he murmurs, leaning in. “Then why do you look like you’re about to run?”

“I’m not—”

He reaches out—slow, precise—and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, fingertips brushing your skin like a dare.

You forget how to breathe.

“You know what the real game is?” he says, voice low enough to curl around your spine. “It’s not about revenge. Not anymore.”

You stare at him, pulse racing.

“It’s about seeing how long we can keep pretending this tension is just about pranks.”

Your lips part, but no sound comes out.

He leans in closer, mouth inches from yours. “So go ahead,” he whispers. “Run. Or…”

His breath brushes your skin.

“…stop pretending.”

And in that moment, the air between you threatens to collapse entirely.

Your heart is hammering.

You can hear it—feel it—each thud echoing through your ribs like a countdown.

But nothing moves. Not him. Not you.

Just that impossible closeness and the weight of everything left unsaid pressing in like gravity.

Sylus doesn’t touch you again.

He doesn’t need to.

He’s right there, his presence overwhelming in its stillness, in the way his eyes never leave yours. Not even to blink.

Not even for air. It’s like he’s daring you to look away first.

But you don’t.

You can’t.

The tension is a live wire between you, buzzing, pulsing, dangerously taut.

You could lean in.

He could close the distance. Just one breath more.

One slip.

One break in control.

And everything would unravel.

But neither of you moves.

Because this isn’t about the kiss.

It’s about the pause before it.

The ache of proximity. The heat of restraint.

The mutual, wordless recognition that something’s changed, tilted—irrevocably—but no one wants to name it yet.

His voice, when it comes, is almost a whisper. “Still not scared?”

You swallow, your voice quieter still. “Should I be?”

He leans in just enough for your foreheads to almost touch. “Terrified.”

And there it is again—that exquisite push and pull. That dangerous promise wrapped in affection, mischief, and a power you’ll never quite untangle.

You feel the breath leave your lungs. “Then why haven’t you done anything?”

Sylus doesn’t smile this time. Not quite.

Instead, his gaze drops—briefly—to your lips, then lingers there.

“Because I like this,” he says.

You blink. “What?”

“This moment,” he murmurs, voice velvet-dark. “Where you’re still trying to pretend you have the upper hand.”

Your pulse stutters.

“And when I finally take it from you,” he continues, “you’ll know it wasn’t by force.”

His eyes lift back to yours—slowly, intently.

“It’ll be because you gave it.”

Your breath hitches.

And still, he doesn’t move.

Not forward. Not back. Just there.

Waiting.

Like he can stay in this moment forever, balanced at the edge of something dangerous and devastating.

Just to watch you fall first.

He’s still watching you.

Still waiting.

Like he’s reading your every thought, every twitch of hesitation, every part of you that wants to lean in and the part that still clings to the illusion of control.

You don’t speak.

You just look at him.

And that’s all it takes.

Because Sylus moves with the precision of someone who’s already planned this moment ten steps ahead.

One hand rises—fingers brushing your jaw, your cheek, slow as silk.

The other curls gently around your waist, pulling you forward, not forcefully, but with the promise of no escape.

You barely get the chance to gasp before his mouth captures yours.

It’s not a gentle kiss.

It’s deliberate. Consuming.

Like he’s reminding you exactly who you’ve been playing games with.

There’s heat, yes, but more than that—there’s command.

The way his lips move against yours, the way his hand tilts your chin just so, the way your breath disappears entirely beneath his—all of it says, you’ve lost.

And god, you let him.

Your hands curl into his shirt, trying to hold on—anchor yourself.

But he deepens the kiss and everything tilts with it.

The pressure of his body, the taste of him, the sound you make without meaning to—it all blends together in something dangerous.

And then, you feel it.

A faint, thrumming pulse in the air.

A crackle of invisible tension winding around your wrists.

You pull back just barely, lips parted, dizzy. “What—”

Too late.

Energy winds up your arms like silken thread—cool, weightless, until it suddenly binds.

A shimmer of red-black tendrils coils around your wrists, tugging them behind your back, smooth as liquid steel.

Your breath catches. “Sylus—?”

He doesn’t answer right away.

He rests his forehead against yours, breathing steady, unbothered. “You like playing with fire,” he murmurs, voice low and calm. “But you forget—I am the fire.”

With a flick of his fingers, the energy coils tighten. Your arms are pulled behind you, secured to the low railing of the console desk behind you—elegant, efficient, inescapable.

Then, as if that weren’t enough—he slides a metal cuff into place around your right wrist.

You freeze the second it locks.

You know that cuff.

Dull black, sleek. Lined with tech that silences Evol abilities like a mute button pressed against your skin.

It hums to life with a faint click.

And suddenly, you’re still.

Held.

Caged.

Disarmed.

Your eyes widen. “That’s—”

“—the containment cuff from Tartarus, yes,” he finishes, calmly brushing your hair from your face. “You didn’t think I’d forget to prepare for retaliation, did you?”

You stare at him. “You kissed me just to—?”

He tilts your chin up again, eyes sharp, amused, infuriatingly tender.

“I kissed you because I wanted to,” he says. “Cuffing you was just… a bonus.”

Your mouth opens in protest, but he leans in again, this time slower, deliberate, brushing his lips over yours like a threat.

“Now,” he whispers, “let’s see how long you can behave… without your tricks.”

Then he steps back, leaving you bound to the desk, breathless and flushed, completely and utterly at his mercy.

And he smiles.

Not the cold, amused smile from before.

Something darker. Possessive. Knowing.

“You started this,” he says, voice velvet. “Now you get to see how I finish it.”

You tug against the energy binding your wrists. It doesn’t budge.

The cuff hums faintly at your pulse point, Evol completely silenced.

He stands before you, not gloating—no, that would be too easy.

Too human. He just watches.

Calm. Composed.

Like a man who could undo you in a thousand ways and hasn’t even begun.

“Comfortable?” he asks, voice like poured velvet.

You narrow your eyes. “This is so far beyond revenge.”

“Is it?” he muses, brushing a thumb under your chin. “You did challenge me. Repeatedly. In public. With unicorns.”

You glare. “You’re enjoying this.”

He leans in, mouth grazing the shell of your ear. “Immensely.”

And then—crash.

Followed by a shout.

And another crash.

You both freeze.

Sylus exhales, long-suffering, and turns his head just as the door to the control room swings wide open.

Luke bursts in, holding a smoking toaster. “Okay! Who set the oven to incinerate? I was making waffles—”

He stops.

Stares.

Kieran skids in behind him, carrying a fire extinguisher. “We may or may not have caused a minor electrical—”

Also stops.

Stares.

The three of you hold in silence.

You, flushed, cuffed, and restrained against the desk.

Sylus, standing in front of you with the casual elegance of a villain who’s definitely in charge.

Luke, blinking rapidly.

Kieran, slowly lowering the extinguisher.

“Oh my god,” Luke whispers. “Did we walk in on a—”

“It’s not what it looks like,” you bark.

Kieran’s already backing out. “It’s exactly what it looks like.”

Sylus doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t move. He just looks over his shoulder at them and says, calm as ever.

“Leave. Before I make it permanent.”

Luke raises both hands, stepping back. “Okay! Yep. Carry on. Nothing to see. Just… us. Not here.”

Kieran salutes. “We were never here.”

They vanish.

The door slams.

You exhale through your nose. “I hate them.”

“You encouraged them,” Sylus replies.

“I was peer pressured!”

He hums, reaching for your jaw again, thumb brushing your lower lip. “You always have an excuse.”

“I wasn’t the one who turned revenge into a bondage scene—”

He cuts you off with a low chuckle. “Are you uncomfortable?”

You open your mouth.

Then close it.

Then hiss, “…Yes. In the worst way.”

“Good,” he murmurs, brushing his lips barely—barely—against yours. “Sit in that discomfort. Feel it.”

He steps back again, and your body instinctively leans forward—straining just slightly against the binds.

His smile turns wicked. “That’s one.”

You blink. “One what?”

“One slip.”

You frown. “What is this, a score counter—?”

“Two.”

You shut your mouth. Scowl.

He watches you with open amusement now. “You’re very expressive when you’re trying not to be.”

“Sylus.”

He leans down, gaze inches from yours, voice soft.

“Be good, and I’ll let you go.”

You don’t respond.

His eyes glitter. “Or don’t. I’m patient.”

And he turns to leave. Leaves you there—bound, breathless, and burning.

“Oh my god!” you shout after him. “You’re the worst!”

From down the hall, Luke’s voice echoes faintly, “Is it safe to make waffles again?”

You scream, “NO!”

And Sylus’s laugh—low, dangerous, victorious—follows you like a storm rolling in.

masterlist

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madamechrissy · 4 months ago

Text

Just Friends!?

-Art in the banner from nek0zuu_ on X-

Pairings- Former Nerd! Gojo and popular F! reader

Warnings - Will be explicit and smutty (it's me!?) Nerdjo turned famous and cocky, but he's still just a Nerdjo deep down hehe- sexual tension, lots of angst tbh, Gojo finding himself again, but being an ass of a man. Reader has a hard situation (dad has an illness) but nothing too rough! SO MANY feelings, repressed things, pining, longing, say Hi to Nerdjo AGAIN- longer chap this time! (This is a mini series, so expect two more parts maybe hree it's me lol)

Based on the 2005 Rom com Just Friends - part of my amazingg moot @indiewritesxoxo's Friday night flicks! 🌙

<<<Part Two - Masterlist - Part Four>>

Part Three

“Why do I need to do an interview!? And where are you going!” Samantha demands the next morning, pouting as he is about to drop her off with an ‘interviewer’ aka Satoru paid someone to keep her busy so he can meet you.

He wasn’t with Samantha, but she was psychotically obsessed, the few times he’d let her fuck him had been truly terrifying, she’d licked his entire face last time so he’s firmly avoided her. As pretty as she is, psycho is psycho, and it wasn’t even the kind that made her better in bed, it was the kind where you wondered if you’d make it through the night.

He already set it up with an old acquaintance who just happened to be a fan of hers anyway, now they’re setting up for her and she’s refusing to budge, instead reaching up to grab him around the neck, pouting full lips at him. “Satoru, why do you have to go!?”

“Family things, I know, I know I will miss you too.” He pouts all cute, and she finally sighs, dejectedly letting him leave, Satoru runs out in the cold, hurrying to his still warm little car, beginning to drive the way to your place.

How could he forget it, the endless afternoons once you all had gotten home from school, the way you’d run up your stairs and watch the cartoons that came out - Digimon was his favorite, Sailor Moon was yours. In fact your room had been covered with Sailor moon merchandise, he wonders if it still is. He wonders so much about your life.

The heat warms him as he drives through distant but familiar roads, he had ridden them on his bike so, so many times, quiet streets in a town that hasn’t grown very much. He certainly sees new places and a few more cars than before, but compared to LA it was the middle of nowhere. Winding streets, until he pulls up to your parents’ home.

The nostalgia hits when he steps out of his car, leaving it running so it would be warm enough for you, slowly walking up through the snow crunched grass to your wide front porch. Your house hasn’t changed a bit, the same old brick style, smaller than his but still beautiful in its vintage way, unchanged even amongst the newer styles of homes built.

He knocks hesitantly on the burgundy door, faded paint with time, how many times had he done just this? Being a little kid, being a teen and almost an adult, he’s not sure he really was an adult at eighteen really. Satoru pauses and smirks when you open the door, then falters as he sees your mom, who instead of warmly welcoming him like he expects, pauses just a bit.

“Hey there, been a long time.” He greets her, and she smiles then, sighing and opening the door wider.

“It has been too long, Satoru.” You smile gently at your mom, she remembers even years later the heartbreak of losing him, god no breakup could compare to losing your best friend that night. But you also know she loved him like one of her own, just like Satoru’s mom with you.

“I’m gonna grab some gloves and a hat real quick.” You are so pretty he thinks, in this red sweater and what looks like soft to the touch black pants, boots up to your calves, a jean jacket that looks just like the one he remembers you wearing all the time, and your face is bare aside from a little lip gloss, tempting him to no end.

You’re effortlessly beautiful, but then, you’ve always been.

Satoru feels himself flustered, only you do this, unable to answer you more than a nod. You smile a bit, nervously, running to put on your hat and gloves, listening to your mom as she hugs Satoru tightly. He’s in a dress shirt worth more than your car likely, a black overcoat that could have been pulled from a runway. You suddenly feel hopelessly underdressed, but try to shake it off.

“You’re visiting home?” Your mom asks, and Satoru clears his throat, stepping back and rubbing the back of his neck.

“I had a show here, but I figured I’d try to catch up with her a bit. I saw her at the family bar, still running that huh?”

“We are, she’s been a big help for us.” You smile at your mother’s sweet words, you never expected to move back home, even if it’s temporary, but to know you’re helping them too is a huge relief. “We aren’t even paying her to work at the bar, she gets tips of course but… even those she helps with bills which we need, since her dad is still recovering.”

Satoru pauses now, looking at you, seeing the emotion hit your face. “He’s sick, what’s wrong?”

“He had um…” You trail off, and your mom blinks a bit. “We can talk about it on the way, you must be so cold.”

“Yeah, I’m not used to this weather, the car is warm though.” You kiss your mom’s cheek, and follow Satoru out to the fancy sports car, so out of place in the working town you live in. He opens your door, surprising you for a moment, and you murmur a thank you, sliding in now.

Warm and cozy, you try to rest your insanely beating heart, it was just coffee with an old friend, it wasn’t more, you can’t sit there and think suddenly you’ll both be close again. You don’t even know who Satoru is, he feels so foreign to you, sliding in and grinning at you now, so handsome with his straight white teeth, for a moment you remember the colored rectangles that used to align them fondly.

“You look really great, I feel a little underdressed.” Your words should stroke his ego, but he blinks a bit, frowning.

“What, you look hot.” You’re flushed now, looking down nervously.

“You’re just really dressed up.”

“I am everywhere, though baby, gotta maintain a good image.” He’s leaned back, arm over your back seat as he looks back to pull out of your driveway, putting the two of you impossibly close in the little confines of the car.

“Well you definitely dress well. Where is that … your girl?”

“She’s not my girl.” He rolls his eyes as he then reaches for his dark shades, throwing them on to drive through the blinding snow.

“She seems great.” He bursts into laughter then, it’s so warming for a moment you feel transfixed, until it eases and he sighs a bit.

“She’s horrible. Beautiful yeah but jesus that girl. Many screws loose.”

“Yeah she seemed interesting.”

“I hooked up with her yeah but-” He pauses now, you’re just fiddling with your sweater nervously. “Anyway, let’s not talk about her.”

“What do you wanna talk about?”

“Your dad, what’s up with that? He got the flu or something?” Satoru turns on the blinker as the two of you stop at the light, and you take a hesitant breath.

“He had cancer.”

Satoru’s heart sinks, hearing the sadness in your voice, even as you cover it up, clearing your throat, and his gaze goes to you, eyes wide. “What!? He’s so young and healthy?”

“He hasn’t been healthy, he got sick after you left. Um, your mom knew, she came over a lot, I thought you’d… know?” Satoru hadn’t asked a word about you, and any time his mom brought you or anything up, he brushed her off. “You didn’t know?”

“If I knew, I’d have…” What would he have done?

It’s quiet as the green light goes, and the snow gently dusts the windshield, as you realize he likely didn’t know. Why did you assume that perhaps Satoru would have kept tabs like you did, that’s just foolish. But you figured as close as you two were, you certainly thought somewhere he wondered, but as you see the shock on his face, it settles a bit.

The truth.

He never even asked about you.

You feel horrible when Satoru was picked on, but you tried everything to make sure it was not that way. You thought he knew how special he was to you, but now it starts sinking in, he truly did leave it all behind. You’re not sure how that feels, you aren’t so conceited that you thought he still - well, ever - felt what he wrote in your yearbook, but you assumed he cared.

“Shit is he going to be okay?” Zoned out for a moment, you’re brought back to the present.

“He is, he’s cancer free officially. But he’s still weak, the chemo…”

“Fuck. I’m so sorry.” He puts a hand on your thigh then, eyes falling to yours when you all slow down on the road. “I’m glad he’s gonna be okay.”

“Thank you, Satoru, so am I.” You gently touch his hand with your own, both gloved, but it feels good and comforting, it feels like something you’ve missed. “Don’t feel bad you didn’t know. I thought maybe your mom would have told you?”

“I… she probably tried.” He looks back at the road then, and his words hurt you more than they should. “I wasn’t interested in what was going on back here aside from her. So I likely cut her off.”

“Oh.” You blink back hot emotion, Satoru feels it, how tense the air is in the car, feels your thigh tense under his touch even, as he focuses on driving.

“You’re helping them because he’s not feeling good yet.”

“Yes, but also, I needed to come back, we got lay offs where I was, and as a new teacher I had no tenuity.”

Fuck you’ve had it rough, even if you don’t perceive it that way, the guilt eats him alive, no matter what he would have liked to think he’d be there for you during that, something happening to your father. He was close to him as well growing up, and he sees the effects it has, but you hearing his dismissal of you probably made it worse.

He couldn’t care about you anymore, not when you were so deeply embedded in his heart and soul, not when he was in love with you since you were both just kids, the only way to not feel you anymore was to shove you deep down. And make you just a small flicker of memories, while he busied himself with fame, parties, events, anything to feel alive, and not the emptiness.

“I asked about you.” Your voice drags him down further, his hand is still resting on your thigh, squeezing just a bit.

This isn’t how he thought it would go.

He thought he’d bust out a few lines of how sexy you are, give you a charming grin and a brush on your cheek, and you’d melt, all women melt for him. But you’re tense, unsure and hurt, and he can’t help but feel it’s all due to him, as badly as he wants to explain it away.

“I know. Mom told me.”

It’s quiet again.

The two friends that teased and laughed and shared everything were just strangers now.

You’re holding it back, the endless questions in your head swirling, wanting to know why you were left behind, you get everyone else, but why you, Shoko, Suguru? Why couldn’t he have made a little exception for his true friends. Was it too painful, the memories?

“We’re here.” He says softly, and you both step out then, awkward in your shuffle towards the door, which he opens, the little bells jingling as warmth filters out of the cozy place.

Soon you’re both seated across from each other, and a familiar waitress bounces over. “Oh it’s little Satoru! Oh goodness, what a treat!”

Satoru sighs, shoving up his shades, he was hoping less people would recognize him, not understanding how much he stood out as a six foot four man with shocking white hair. Well, it’s lavender a bit in places, isn’t it? Or is it silver? You never could figure out its color, nor the exact shade of blue that made up the eyes still hiding behind the dark glass.

“Yeah, just for a couple days.”

“And with her! Oh you two were always the cutest, I thought you’d be together, it was the talk of the cafe.” She’s giggling as she watches your reaction. “She has been coming here once a week when she’s in town, gets your special order.”

“Maisie!” You’re trying to shush her, but Satoru’s already heard, as she covers her mouth. “I just enjoy those pancakes.”

You order his order?

He’s staring at you across from him, taking your jean jacket off, now he’s sure it’s from high school. He sees the little pin he’d gotten you still on it, a little Sailor Mars pin, faded and worn. You smile nervously as he just stares at you then, putting the pieces together slowly.

You still come here.

You wear his pin.

You ask about him.

You fucking cared for him, didn’t you? He thought it was some pity, a sweetheart of a girl who’s stupidly popular, but always made sure to include him. He didn’t think it was more than that, pity or convenience, but now he’s questioning it, the girl he left behind in his small town, the one he forced himself to never think of, when you seemingly kept thinking of him.

“Are you good with that?” He blinks a bit, looking at your lips, ones he’d die to feel for once, struggling to hear what you said.

“Huh?”

“The usual, Satoru, those fluffy pancakes that look like kittens! And a strawberry milkshake, right?” Maisie asks, eyes all hopeful, but Satoru laughs a bit, shaking his head now.

“Yeah no, I can’t have that many carbs. Just an Americano please.” Maisie blinks a bit now, and you shift in your seat. “I have a body to maintain.”

“I’ll have pancakes.” You say then, making Maisie smile. “And a milkshake.”

“On the way!” You sigh as you look at Satoru across the table, leaning back in the bright red booth.

“She was excited to see you, couldn’t you just split some with me?”

“Do you know how much sugar is in a pancake?”

“What happened to the boy who loved sweets? You’ve always been thin, what’s the harm?” Satoru scoffs, shaking his head.

“You wouldn’t get it.”

“Oh, I guess not.” It’s tense again, as Maisie comes back out, and Satoru looks over at the pancake with two kittens made of whipped cream and berries, two forks and a milkshake with two straws.

“In case you change your mind.” She hands him his coffee with a gentle touch of your shoulder, and Satoru sips it, as you sip your milkshake, leaning forward just so, wrapping your lips around the straw, he nearly chokes on his coffee when you lick your lower lip.

“Yummy.” You say it with a smirk, as if to tempt him into the sugar.

“I bet.”

“I am sure girls you’re used to don’t eat, and don’t get me wrong, I try to be healthy, but a little indulgence doesn’t hurt.” You take a nibble now, sighing and shutting your eyes, doing erratic things to his brain. “We have a lot of memories here.”

“Yeah. I guess we did.” He’s transfixed then, memories making the atmosphere shift, of him giggling, sitting next to you, while you fed him bites, sipping each other’s drinks, Satoru remembers panicking, thinking how it was an indirect kiss. “I was a loser then.”

“What!?” You glare now, fork falling as he sips the hot, dark coffee again.

“I was, what? Gonna act like I wasn’t?”

“You were certainly not. You were smart, sweet, funny…” You feel it now, the hot anger you try to keep buried, as a teacher you’re sweet and patient, you try to see the sides of everything. But you’re so furious at him at that moment, for talking shit about your best friend - him.

“And you’re still sweet.” His words are soft, a quirk of his plump lips now. “Too nice some would say.”

“Well Satoru, I don’t care what people say, and I never have.” You take another bite now, still glaring. “And I won’t let you talk shit about the best friend I had.”

He pauses, snowy lashes lowering, while you chew the bite now, his knees brush yours under the table, spread wide as yours sit between them, brushing just the smallest bit. “The best friend you had?”

“Wasn’t I to you?” Satoru’s eyes lift, the lilting conversations in the room fade away, he sees the tiniest bit of whipped cream on the corner of your mouth then, leaning forward and brushing it away with his thumb. Touching your cheek does more in that moment than the endless nights with women, tilting everything on its axis.

You gasp just a bit, he is pulling it back now, lapping the cream off his thumb, the action making you heat up, pressing your thighs together, heart racing. “It is yummy.”

Jesus christ.

It’s been a long time since you’ve done anything, but there’s no excuse for just what that did to your body, seeing him so casually touch you and lick his finger like that, mind running to things it shouldn’t. You shake that off, feeling the tension weigh even heavier, as you sip on the milkshake again slowly, swallowing before you finally get the courage to ask it.

“Why did you never talk to me again?”

The question hits him hard, what did he think? You'd be so blinded by his good looks, money and fame, that you’d fall? No, you were the girl he remembered, the girl who those things never mattered to, the one yelling at him for being mean to himself, or who he used to be. He leans back a bit, thighs brushing yours once more, hearing the edge to your voice as you study him.

“I didn’t talk to anyone but mom, it wasn’t just-”

“Why me though? I thought we were so close, I…” You’re blinking tears, but you fail, and Satoru’s heart which he thought was good, until this, until the pretty tear glinting off the light ahead. “You were my everything. I… need a moment, I’m sorry.” You go to stand but he grabs your hand then, placing his over yours.

“Don’t go.” His voice belies some of his emotions finally. “I… I had to leave you all behind, that night was a cruel joke in my head, playing over and over.”

You sit back down, swiping at your tears. “I needed just some time to get them out, there were so many of them.”

“But the thing is, they were your people, everyone loved you, and I thought… that I was a ‘pity friend’.”

“A what!?”

“Something cute to tote around, like some fucking… kitten or puppy. Like these stupid kittens.”

“They’re cute, first off. Second off, you were much more. God everything I told you, everything we went through, and you never asked about me?” Satoru’s lips part, you keep your voice low, as others laugh and converse around you all, as the bustling little place that hasn’t changed a bit goes in motion, you’re at a standstill.

“I couldn’t look back.” Satoru’s words are hard for you to handle, he swipes a hand through those locks then, leaning forward. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy ourselves at this moment.”

“What?” His hand brushes back your hair, and he smiles a bit, sure he’s charming, but you can’t even believe him.

“Why look on it, I’m here now. I want to catch up.”

“Do you, why when you never did?”

“Because I’m here now, and…”

“Miss me suddenly only when you saw me? Was it because Sukuna asked me out?” He glares right at you now, before relaxing clenched hands, raising a brow.

“Why should that matter? He can’t compete with me.”

“Compete, there’s no competition. You know, Satoru… I liked - no - loved who you were. I loved watching anime with you and going to the arcade, I loved how sweet and free you felt with me.” You’re sniffling, barely able to hold back things you’d hoped you could let go, but the lingering is in your heart. “I loved everything about the boy you were.”

“I…” He’s sputtering, unable to know what to do now. “I’m not him anymore. He was just a-”

“A sweetheart. A good person. There was nothing wrong with him. And I will not let you keep downing him, when I loved who he was.” You’re throwing on your jacket now, Satoru can’t believe the words out of your mouth, words he could never dream would fall, but he knows it too well.

“Loved as a friend?” You laugh without humor, tossing your hair back and pulling it out from under the collar of the denim.

“You never let us find out if there was more.” The words pulsate through him, as panic sets in, but you shake your head, sighing. “I get why you ran, I do, but fuck like you forgot me. It hurt more than any shitty breakup, it meant more than some guy I thought I had puppy love for. We were so close, I…”

He murmurs your name softly, a nickname only he had called you, long ago. “Can you just give me a day with you?”

“I see no reason to keep talking.”

Satoru’s jaw clenches. “Gotta see Sukuna?”

“Yes. I made plans. And since you’re not eating, and I’ve lost my appetite…” He frowns down at the pancakes, swallows the memories, shutting his eyes.

“Yeah, okay, I won’t keep you.” His harsh words and cold gaze make it all shift, and soon you’re back in the car, but this time even the tentative pretense to be friendly was gone. His hand isn’t on your leg, no one is talking at all, and when he pulls up to your home, you pause, as he busies himself looking at his phone.

“Okay…” Your soft words make him pause just a bit. “Satoru I am sorry I unloaded those emotions. I should have just been friendly, I didn’t plan it to go that way.” He eyes you now, sending the text, sighing when your eyes swim once more with shimmering tears.

He wants to hold you.

He wants to hug you.

To bury you against his chest, a longing so real and tangible it’s hard for him to breathe, to not do that. “It’s fine, I shouldn’t have asked you to come out.”

The pain sets in, of his casual words. “Oh?”

“You didn’t want to, and you had plans later.” He’s back poking at his phone again. “You need me to walk you?”

Wow.

You say nothing, glaring now, stomping out of the car into the snow and slamming his fancy fucking door, he feels tears form in his own eyes, cursing himself then. He rests his head on the steering wheel, before he sees your gloves, sighing and grabbing them, walking out of the car and shouting your name.

You turn as he runs up, breath foggy, standing now at your step, for once you’re at face level, as he is several steps down from you, your breath quickening when he holds your gloves out. Your chilled fingers touch his as you grab it carefully, looking down at where they’re joined.

“Thanks.” You manage, trying to understand where sweet Satoru was, and why he’s in the body of a jerk model. “Have a good trip.”

Satoru knows he’s fucked it all up as you just turn away, and he watches you walk to your door. You look at him, and he can’t say anything, nothing at all to the girl he still feels in his fucking heart, his soul, a girl who clearly he’s hurt beyond what he knew, and you were still giving him a chance, but he’s fucking it up. He tries to pull it together, stepping up again, until he’s towering over you, an arm on one side of your door, as you press against it.

“Can we just start over?” He asks then, you shift, his presence is too much, the feelings and pressure overwhelming, to where you can’t think of anything but how badly you want to hug him, be held by him, even now.

Was he there anymore?

“I was rude, I know that. I’ll be here a few days, maybe… we can see like a movie, or just you can come over? Anything.” Finally, you feel it, some of who he was, his genuine voice breaking for just a moment.

“Will Samantha be there? She scares me.” He laughs then, his real fucking laugh, so cute as he rests his head lower, cupping your face, thumb brushing on an overheated cheek. “Satoru…”

“You still wear the same body spray.” You get more heated, he feels it, so warm and inviting, is all of you?

“Not everything needs to change.” He sighs now, knowing the double meaning behind it. “Wait, you remember my body spray?”

Fuck yes he did.

It was so sweet and you.

Any time he inhaled something similar, he’d look around wildly, thinking the sweet teacher was in LA - Satoru always knew you’d be one. He should tell you he’s proud you became one, that he’s proud you help your family. That he missed you, he truly did, even when he’s denied it, hidden it. That he’s sorry.

But the words fail, when he’s this close to you, breath tickling your lips, your eyes dart up, as he bends down now, and dies to think of kissing them, of devouring them, kiss every inch of you. But even if he could get with you, where did it lead? Was it selfish to think this way?

He is selfish.

“I’ll come over tomorrow night, we can do dinner and movies.”

“Shit, really?”

“With your mom.”

Fuck.

He sighs as you press him gently back. “Sound good?”

“Sounds good.” He takes a breath as you walk inside, looking back at him now. “I’ll see you then. Have a horrible fucking date.”

“Really now?” He just sets his jaw.

“Yep really. Hope it sucks.”

You scoff now. “You’re a dick, I swear maybe-”

“No, no shit. Sorry, have a…” Horrible date.

“Can’t even bullshit a fake nice answer?” You ask, stepping inside now, and Satoru chuckles.

“I guess not. Pick you up at six?”

“I can drive.” With that you shut the door, and he palms it for a moment, cursing silently to himself.

God he fucked it up.

Samantha is pouty and all over him as he picks her up, going on and on, when they get ready to hit their actual press junket, but she didn’t need to ever know that. She’s dramatically going on, as Satoru looks at the time, thinking you must be with Sukuna now, the thought making him grip the wheel far, far too tightly.

“Samantha, can you take a xanax dear god.” She gasps now.

“You’re such a dick!”

“Yeah, I heard that.”

*****

As Samantha and Satoru drive and bicker to the press junket, you’re waiting on Sukuna for lunch, peering at the time when he walks into the diner, big grin on his handsome face as he looks at you. You stand up, nervous now, after the emotional strain of Satoru’s date, you’re afraid of what lies ahead for this one.

“Ordered us something, is that cool? I waited a bit.” He puts his hands on your shoulder, leaning down and kissing your cheek then.

“Sorry I’m late, shit, I had a meeting and the guy wouldn’t shut up.” He’s rolling ruby eyes, you laugh a bit, softly.

“I get it. No worries!”

“Sit, sit.” You do just that, across from the tall, broad shouldered man, who is so huge he looks comical in the seat. “Fuck you look pretty.”

“Oh, um… thanks.” You tuck your hair behind your ear, and he chuckles.

“Cute.”

“Am I now?” He nods, leaning his chin on his fist, casually assessing you.

“Very.”

The food comes and the conversation flows, he seems actually interested in your life, asking all sorts of things, shit somehow he heard about your dad now, the town is small and talks a lot. He’s genuine in his concern, in his interest, to the point you start opening up more, laughing with him, asking about his life.

He’s not holding back like Satoru, he’s genuine about the past. “I was a fucking ass to you.”

“Yeah you were.”

“Shit, to everyone.”

“You were such an ass.”

“You could stop me, say I wasn’t so bad.” He leans close over the table, you just laugh then, shaking your head. “Shit, you’re right though. Have I said how good you look?”

“Three times.” You shove playfully at his shoulder, and he takes your hand in his then, making you pause, feeling the rough calluses from years of football, on your tender skin.

“I want to apologize.”

“Tell me this isn’t some death apology tour!”

“No. Just hoped to see you, and I did and… wanted to say I was a dumb little shit. Had you and fucked it up.”

“You needed those college girls.” He sighs, releasing your hand and sipping on his drink then.

“Nothing was like you.”

It’s quiet then, feelings have been going fucking insane all day, to have your ex and your ex best friend suddenly in your life, one avoiding, one apologizing, was difficult to process. Sukuna seems genuine, sweet even despite still being cocky and arrogant, fuck he was… enjoyable. You’re having fun.

“How’d coffee go?” He asks suddenly, as the waiter is grabbing your check.

“God, horrible. Um… I guess I was still upset that he left. But, you had a big part in that, you know.” Your glare makes him fidget a bit, running a hand through pink locks, frowning.

“I know. I was a bully to everyone.”

“If people were nicer, he wouldn’t have left me.” You realize then what you’ve said, looking away and shaking your head. “I’m sorry. That’s mean. I’m being a whole bitch today.”

“You are the furthest thing from a bitch. You should be mad at me, and mad he left you like that, shit you all were stupidly close.”

“Yeah. But still, we were young, so young. I don’t resent you.” Your hand comes over his now, thumb hitting the cool metal of his watch, his breath catches a bit. “I appreciate your apology.”

"Oh thank god.” He’s exhaling in relief, as you giggle.

“Sukuna is scared of something?”

“Saying sorry is like puking, yuck.” You laugh louder then, covering your face just a bit, as he grins at you. “I’m trying, okay?”

“You are.”

“I’d apologize to Satoru if he wasn’t such a punchable asshole.”

“Oh! You made him that way.”

“Apology tour unconcluded.” His grumble just brings you more joy, and he smirks as he studies you, a hand touching your knee under the table, making you heat up a bit. “Can I see you again before I leave?”

You nod then, smiling. “I’d like that.”

*****

Satoru got rid of Samantha, for a bit at least.

The next afternoon he and her had just come back from one of the first walks, he was exhausted and thirsty, pricks in his skin from outfits being pinned up in places, his lips fucking hurt from that look he always had to pull. Satoru had his own ‘blue steel’ that always made the women in the audience wet, and probably everyone horny if he was being completely honest.

But, it takes a toll.

Samantha is especially whiny after they get to Satoru’s mom’s home, and he is trying to think of ways to get her away, since you’re coming over in an hour. He wants real time with you. He wants to show he’s not this… who is he, really? The attention didn’t hit what it usually did, fuck nothing hit well when your teary eyes were burned in his brain.

“My feet hurt! It’s cold. I’m tired!” Samantha is whining and whining that night, when Satoru finally gets a notification.

A hotel room.

He grins now.

Fuck yes.

“Samantha, look baby, a suite!” He cooes to her, and she lights up when she sees it.

“Oh it actually looks nice, especially after this town.”

“It’s perfect, I’ll take you tonight.”

“But, aren’t you staying?” She’s frowning, touching his chest, then lower, until she grips his dick, and his eyes damn near bug out. “Little Gojo, tell him!”

“Dear god, ow.” She’s got a hell of a grip, he struggles to disentangle his cock from her brutal grip, wincing. “I have to spend a little time here, with my mom-”

“Bullshit, it’s the townie with the nice ass.” She glares, pushing him onto his bed then, and he rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “We can bring her in, threesome time. Purr.”

“Stop purring, fuck. No.” He grabs her hips now, yanking her off him, curious how to play this so she will listen, cupping her face now, putting on that smile. “You need beauty rest, you’re just not getting it here.”

“Ugh, true.”

“And there’s a spa there.”

“A spa!?”

“Mmhmm, I’ll pick you up for the next show in the morning, mmkay?” She giggles, kissing up his face until she tries to shove her tongue in his mouth, fuck he supposes he used to not mind, but he hates it, shoving her back. “We’ll miss the suite if we don’t go now!”

Thank god he got rid of her.

His mother also seems relieved, though she’s too sweet to say it out loud, already putting in orders. “Pizza for you two, right? And the cinnamon sticks, it’s what I always ordered. Pepperoni, extra icing-”

“Mom, so many…” He pauses then, remembering how you all were.

Happy.

Carefree.

Nibbling on those cinnamon sticks, you’d dab icing on his nose and giggle so fucking cute, god he would die to see you smile again.

“That sounds good, thank you mom. Any… shit, advice?” His mom starts tearing up now, and Satoru frowns. “Mom?”

“My baby wants advice!” He ends up hugging her, sighing now, god he missed being home, he thought he would hate it, but he doesn’t really. He misses you and her. So much.

Last night had been spent going through it over and over, every single way he’d fucked up, then thoughts of you and Sukuna. Was it a good date? Would your feelings come back? Would he have a chance? And the biggest question, could there be any type of future if you actually did let him have it? What was that like for you two?

He doesn’t know where it will go, but he knows one thing, he never wants to make you cry again, and he has to try anything. “Advice for what, my love?” His mom’s words are soft and sweet, Satoru rubs the back of his neck now, sighing.

“How to be… myself again.” His mom is full sobs now, he has to hold her narrow, shaky form, feeling awful then. “I’m still a model. I’m rich. I’m… famous.”

“You are, and I’m so proud. But I’ve never been prouder than now.”

“Mom, shh. I just wanna try to be who she remembers, a little. Is he still here?” She holds a hand to his chest, nodding.

“He’s here. And all over your room. Find some special things, maybe your favorite movie, a favorite song? Your sweater.”

Satoru scoffs. “That ugly thing!”

“Mmm, it’s a thought. It’s almost six, so get ready.”

Shit.

Satoru runs up the stairs, to his room trapped in time, fingers running across the ugly ass nerdy sweater, folded right over one of his polos. He frowns, staring in the mirror, still in his dress shirt loosely unbuttoned and black slacks, then back at the sweater you got him.

“Fuck it.” He goes to the old cd player now, hitting track number one, your favorite song, the one he was singing the night everything changed, the night he practiced in the mirror kissing. He was a loser then, even if you won’t admit it, but if you want it? He’d do anything.

Just for a chance to make you happy. After being horrible, selfish, cold, he lay in bed all night tossing and turning, thinking of your words.

If you just gave me time.

Time, he didn’t give you time.

Satoru slips on the ugly polo and argyle sweater, before he leans over, picking up the old glasses, then putting them down. He takes out his contacts now, sighing as he puts them on, looking in the mirror, shaking his head. The sweater is small against his buffer frame, the glasses look ridiculous on his chiseled frame, then glares at his retainer.

He still wears one a few nights a week, but…

The Lucemon, huh?

“Gonna go full nerd mode.” He laughs at himself, shaking his head and slicking his hair up, like it was then, with pomade. He cleans the shit out of the retainer then, leaning over the bathroom mirror and snapping it in. “God.”

He looks…

“Satoru!” Your voice makes him pause, as he runs out, and you see him then, pausing at the doorway, plates of pizza in one hand, a bottle of wine tucked in your arm. Your mouth drops, eyes blinking rapidly. “Satoru?”

“I know.” He grumbles, and you hear it then, one of your favorite songs, eyeing his room, realizing it hasn’t changed a bit. “Here.”

You let him gently take the bottle from your arm, setting it on his side table, then taking the pizza gently, as your lip trembles, and you look at him, fuck you stare at him. Is it him!? Is he… is Satoru here? Is it some ruse to make fun of himself, or is it something real, tangible?

He pulls you against him, hugging you so tightly, and you cling to him then, his soft sweater against your cheek now, while he rocks gently side to side, letting you cry, just holding you. Like he used to. He feels so good you sink into him, crying more, his mom walks up, seeing you two, Satoru looks at her behind his glasses, as she sets down the cinnamon sticks and the movie.

She smiles, teary eyed, shutting the door then, making you jump a bit, looking behind you. “Oh god you must think I’m a mess!”

“I don’t.” His hoarse voice, so raspy and deep, sends trembles through you when he eyes you, magnified blue eyes behind thick lenses, and your hand slips up that soft sweater. “I was a dick.”

“Oh, Satoru…”

“I was. And you should be mad, you shouldn’t even come see me. But that’s what I love about you, how kind you always were.” He wants to say more, but for now just that has him overwhelmed. “I got into nerd mode.”

You’re laughing as you swipe your tears, and he can’t help but smile. “Nerd mode!”

“Nerd mode activated. Look.” He opens his mouth, earning further giggles.

“Oh my god! Satoru, it’s the retainer!”

“Mmhmm. I guess I still look hot, huh?” He winks now, and you nod eagerly, grinning now.

“Hot. So hot now.” He rolls his eyes, hugging you once more, leaning back, his lips a breath from yours, and your eyes drift to them, as your heart pounds. “All this for me?”

“The least I can do after…” He still can’t say it.

He was wrong to have left you.

“Your room oh my god, the memories!” You leave his embrace, running up to look at all of his photos, touching your chest then, feeling the warmth in your heart, as Satoru stands behind you, hard body warm behind you. “It’s all me and you.”

“That’s all I needed.” He touches one gently, a hand on your waist as he studies the photo, it was your eighteenth birthday, right before he’d left.

“We look so fucking happy.” Your words almost break him then, when you look back up at him, hair brushing against his soft sweater, he can inhale that shampoo, your vanilla scent, mixing with the cinnamon and pizza in his childhood room.

Every memory is back.

They’re all of you.

“Thank you for coming tonight. I promise, I’m fine being a friend, even though I was so shitty for so long.” You shake your head then, and his proximity makes you question everything.

“You were just… traumatized. I never was angry, just hurt.”

“That’s worse.” Satoru cups your chin, and both of you know, friendship is different than whatever tingles and shocks run through your bodies in that moment, as he watches you behind those frames. “The next couple days, I’d love to try to… get to know you.”

“And get to know yourself?” He nods, when you turn your head back to your photos, and lean back, so that you’re fully against him. He gulps back the hot desire, a hand splaying your tummy, feeling your frame in his arms, dying to never let go.

He shouldn’t have left you.

God he was a fool.

Even after it all, he feels it, your affection, your care, while you delicately touch another polaroid of you two, this one right before graduation. The sadness fills you both slowly. “Um, where’s…”

“She’s got a suite.”

“Oh.”

“Did your lunch date suck?”

“You’re still a dick.” He’s laughing softly, and you bounce off him now, rushing to the dvd, grinning as his eyes light up.

“Not the Holy Grail!”

“Always the Holy Grail. God, I can still recite it all.” You rush now, seeing his playstation and smiling. “This still work?”

“Dusty but yes.” He slides it open, when you both lean down to blow, and he smacks into your head. “Shit!”

“Ow!” He touches a growing bump on yours tenderly, cool thumb feeling relieving. “Sorry.”

“No, I got clumsy, the nerd gear.” He’s smiling watching you laugh again, leaning back over to gently blow, so goddamn beautiful he can’t stand it, especially with your pretty grin.

“The date was good.”

“Date, hmm.” He frowns now, jealousy eating at him. “Did you…”

“Kiss? Would you care?” You ask softly, not meeting his eyes, as you place the disc inside, and grant he remote, turning on his thin black tv, while he curses just a bit. He wants to be cocky, arrogant, conceited. Say no, he wouldn’t care.

But…

He needs to be him again.

“Yeah. I would.” You pause once more, in the quiet room, just the ticking clock and the fan whirling overhead the only sounds, along with your heart thrumming in your ears. “But I get it, if so.”

“We didn’t.” He exhales too much in relief, thank God you don’t see, fiddling with the tv, when Satoru starts getting everything on the floor, and pats it, letting you sit on the soft carpet next to him.

You’re just wearing sweats and a comfy shirt, and you look sexier than any model he saw today, casual, sweet and looking like you just showered. Hair fucking shimmering, skin glowy and dewy, a smile not leaving your lips, especially when you watch him bite the cheesy, gooey pizza, a string of mozzarella that he laps up.

“What?” He asks, wiping his grease from the pizza off his chin.

“Nothing, just… carbs huh.”

He snorts now, rolling his eyes, and leaning closer to you, so close you feel his toned, strong arm against you, feeling so good. “I’ll eat carbs on vacation I guess.”

“It’s on, it’s on!” You’re nibbling a cinnamon stick, a little sugar on your lip he’s dying to lick off.

It is I, Arthur, son of Uther Pendragon, from the castle of Camelot.

The movie starts, and he realizes you still know the shit word by word, and have no problem acting them out physically either. He’s laughing so hard his cheeks hurt, his tummy hurts, so full of pizza now, and you are popping open the wine as you carry on your quotes.

“Holy fuck, I didn’t know then.” He says softly, when you hand him a glass, and breathlessly sit next to him.

“Know what, Satoru?”

“You’re… a nerd.”

“Hey!” You nudge him, laughing again, sighing suddenly as both of your laughter dies down, and you’re sipping that glass, leaving a pretty, perfect lip print. “I was always nerdy, just… people were cool with it.”

“You were always you.” He brushes his fingers across your cheek, as you see your flushed reflection in his glasses, and he drops his fingers. “I’m sorry for yesterday, I was…”

“A jerk.”

“That.”

You touch his face now, brushing along a jawline that’s just sharpened impossibly, studying the beautiful super model in his old room, in his old clothes. Everything that you’ve missed for so long feels real, tangible, and you don’t know how long this will last, this beautiful feeling. Is it fleeting?

“When do you return?” You ask softly.

“Two days.”

Your heart sinks a bit, but you nod quietly. “I’ll miss you when you go again.”

“Why would you miss me? After…”

“You’ll always be my Toru.” Satoru sips his own drink, gulping down the heavy feelings with it, you all are closer now, so close. His arm wrapped around your waist, you’re almost in his fucking lap. He’s nuzzling your neck and inhaling you, hand slipping up higher, thumb brushing the side of your breasts through your soft fleece, but even then he sees it, your nipples pressed up.

“I missed you too.” His admission shocks you, your eyes meet and lock, the very air crackling between you both, as you lean closer, hand gripping the stem of your glass, as he’s so close, too close. “You shouldn’t even let me close.”

“No?”

“No, not when all I can think of is tasting every inch of you.” His words shock you then, sexy and bold, and terrifying.

You’re so close to kissing him.

But if you do, what does it mean? A fleeting affair? Could you handle the pain of him going back to his world if you let him in? Could you lose him again?

“I missed this.” He’s just looking at you, as the badly dressed knights are fighting, and you want to believe him, fuck you do…

But you’re scared.

“You look like you did that night.” Your words make him smile a bit, leaning even closer, until his eyes are lidded, and his lips are parted, drinking in your gasp when he inhales.

“That’s because that night I had a plan. One I really fucked up.”

“What plan?” Your whisper sends your sweet, wine kissed breath into his, and he’s shaking with how badly he needs you, how badly he hurts for what he’s done, how much he wishes he could have changed that night, changed it all.

Was this finally his chance?

“Let me… show you.”

Mmmkay the drama isn't over, but he's learning a bit. I know he's an ASS but he's traumatized and we can fix him - I think

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