#but given they got engaged after a year of dating

[tau1tvec]

Reminiscing about the first time I played The Sims 3, and it was kinda bittersweet actually?

I’d given The Sims 2 a good three years of my life ( four if you count my stint on the console version ), either way quite the commitment at a time when most games I played were one and done experiences. So I was understandably a bit reluctant to move onto another installment, although still mostly excited to check it out since the gaming industry at the time was pretty active and exciting, and trying new things was actually fun.

So I waved my TS2 family goodbye, it was a single recently divorced mom, who left her husband bc he cheated on her with his coworker, which I should’ve figured would happen considering when they met, and began dating, I found out shortly after that he was already engaged, and the woman he was engaged to was the woman that kept knocking over their trash can.

This definitely convinced me TS3 was going to have some pretty big shoes to fill, but it was base game TS3 vs TS2 with all its packs, so I gave it some grace. I made my first sim, she was a rlly cute thanks to a Peggyzone hair I downloaded off of the booty I think ( if it was even up atp, I was about a year into its release ) anyway. She lived in one of those modern beach houses in Sunset Valley, and the first sim she met was Cycl0n3 Sw0rd at the bistro, and he would not leave her alone, in a very creeper way.

Luckily she met someone else about a week in. Some guy in a muscle shirt, real cute for a pudding sim surprisingly. They hit it off, got pretty close to going steady, until one day at the park, they kissed and another woman approached him angry as hell…

Turns out they were engaged.

Still playing The Sims 3 to this day.

Anyway, what’s y’all’s favorite “first time playing The Sims 3” memory? 😂

[the-irrelevant-trumpeter]

i often wonder what the cornley drama society were doing during the christmases/decembers we didn’t see a show in

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

Infernal Shadows

Synopsis: Being one of the most powerful overlords in Hell, you like to keep up with colonies and overlord plans. Recently with the new extermination date out, you hold your annual gala sooner than usual. You hadn’t expected to get in the middle of the already heated feud between the Radio Demon and the head of Vox Tech.

Warnings: She/Her pronouns used for the reader, mentions of blood, voodoo?, Angel Dust being a horn-bag, Reader is referred too as Madame to the public. Vox and Alastor feud because I live for it.

Song for this chapter: The world we knew by Frank Sinatra.

A/N: I wanna make this a three part short story, so if anyone is interested in being tagged in the second part just let me know!! I hope you enjoy!!

Word count: 2655

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!! // Serendipity Writes (event) // Part two

Getting an invite to the annual crimson ball, hosted by yours truly, was nothing but an honor. Every overlord and every sinner in the pride ring waited anxiously for a letter. A black card with white letter in a cursive font stating ‘You have been personally invited by Hells biggest designer. The list of the gala was simple. The usual overlords, Zestial, Carmilla Carmine and her daughters, Zeezie, Rosie, Fredrick Von Eldritch and Bethesda von Eldritch. Alastor who had came back after seven years of hiding god knows where, and by special request, the three vee’s who had never attended the gala before. Then it becomes a bit more political.

Next on the list was the Goetia family, inviting the recently divorced prince with his daughter. Inviting Lucifer and Lilith, though they only ever came when everyone was gone. Then was their daughter Charlotte, who got a plus one as a special perk of being the princess of hell. Husk because he had been an old friend of yours before his status of Overlord was taken from him by none other than Alastor. He was also given a plus one, though he usually never brought anyone extra. Sir Pentious was a candidate, but ultimately scrapped from your list of invites as you felt he was too childish.

The gala was tonight and everything was going smoothly. Preparations were almost done, the foyer was spotless just the way you liked it, and everything seemed to be falling into place. You stared at yourself in the mirror. You had spent months designing your perfect dress for tonight. Everyone attending the gala knew there was only ever one color off limits, because you always wore it best. The color black always suited you perfectly. No one could wear it better than you.

Back at the hotel, Charlie felt guilty for using her authority as princess to have people help her get ready for this gala. Based on what Alastor had told her, there would be a lot of political powers and fellow overlords there. She wanted to look her best if she was going to pitch the hotel to them. She needed more people on board with the project, maybe someone who didn’t think it was complete and utterly ridiculous joke like Alastor did.

“How do I look?” Charlie asked as the makeup and hair artists stepped away from her. Charlie stepped out, allowing Vaggie to get a better look at her in a tailored charcoal gray suit, a departure from her usual vibrant red attire. The jacket, adorned with subtle pinstripes, accentuated her frame, while the crisp, white silk shirt underneath added a touch of formality. Completing the ensemble, she wore a black tie with a discreet pattern that hinted at both elegance and authority. The ensemble was a strategic choice, projecting confidence and a readiness to engage with the political powers present at the gala for the sake of her hotel. Vaggie smiled and hugged Charlie deeply, their embrace making Charlie feel a little less nervous about the whole ordeal.

“Charlie you look amazing. What happened to the red?” Vaggie asked, before Charlie just chuckled.

“Well, I wanted a change for tonight. I’m always in red, and I feel like they’ll take me more serious if I’m not walking in there with my usual attire. Besides, you read the invitation, ‘formal attire, look your best’.” Charlie said. Vaggie nodded, and Charlie pulled back from the hug to admire Vaggie in her dress. She was wearing a sleek and modern grey dress that gracefully embraced the formal occasion. The dress, with its tailored fit and subtle shimmer, exuded class. The knee-length hemline added a contemporary touch, and Vaggie had decided to pair it with black heels to complete the ensemble. The choice of grey complemented Charlie’s charcoal gray suit, creating a coordinated yet distinct look that would surely make an impression at the gala. Charlie felt her cheeks heat up taking in her appearance, her long hair gently pinned back, the loose pieces of hair framing her face.

“Aww, Vaggie you look so pretty!!” Charlie said excitedly. Vaggie just smiled, ignoring the way her cheeks heated up at Charlies compliment.

“I agree, you look good vagina.” Angel said mockingly, causing Vaggie to glare at him. Charlie just gushed.

“Angel be nice. This is really important for the hotel.” Charlie explained. He just nodded, tilting his head back and downing a bottle of liquor. The staff however was interrupted by Angel making a purring sound at Husk, who was dressed in a nice white suave dinner jacket, with perfect cutouts for his wings, along with some sleek black trousers and some black dress shoes. The match, he had a black silk lapel.

“I can think of another place that suit would look.” Angel said, leaning onto Husk. He rolls his eyes, bottle in hand.

“Do I even wanna know?” He asks, and Angel just grins.

“On my bedroom floo-“ Angel doesn’t get to finish, being shrugged off by Husk who just walks away with a shake of his head.

“Oh my gosh! Husk you look amazing!” Charlie squealed in delight. Husk just smiled softly before setting his drink on the bar counter.

“It appears everyone is ready.” Alastor said, the focus of the room shifting to him. Niffty was at his side studying his outfit from head to toe.

Alastor emerged in an ensemble that deviated from his usual eccentricity, opting for a more formal yet captivating look. A deep red velvet tailcoat adorned his frame, its luxurious texture catching the light. Dark-red lapels, meticulously piped with gold, added a touch of opulence. Underneath, he wore a perfectly tailored crimson dress shirt, the power emitting off of him. Suddenly, the room grew just a tad bit darker, the shadows of the room stretching just a bit. Complementing the ensemble, he chose a pair of well-fitted black dress pants, allowing the bold red hue to take center stage on his appearance. His choice of footwear shifted to polished black oxford shoes, a departure from his usual pointed-toe boots. The finishing touches of the outfit included a matching red silk bowtie, neatly knotted at his throat, and black leather gloves that added a refined edge. Alastor’s presence was commanding, radiating an air of formality while retaining the distinctive charm that defined him. The room was captivated by the Radio Demon’s unexpected transformation into a vision of refined class and style.

“You took forever for that?” Niffty said, before Angel Dust tossed a pillow at her.

“Shut it you. We, we are keeping,” Angel said, hands waving around Alastor, “to whatever this is.”

“Style.” Alastor said confidently. Vaggie just face palmed while Charlie clapped her hands together excitedly.

“Okay, I think everyone’s ready. Should we head out?” Charlie asked. Vaggie nodded, before Alastor dug the invitation out of his coat pocket. Standing near a wall, he traced the symbol on the back of the card on the wall. “Uh, Al? What are you doing?” Charlie asked. He grinned, putting his hand flat on the wall. The symbol began to glow green, before it opened a portal. On the other side, was a large house. The grand Victorian mansion stood as a testament to opulence, its imposing facade adorned with intricate wrought-iron black railings and embellished balconies with hints of chains. Tall, arched windows with stained glass panels framed the exterior, allowing glimpses of the soft glow emanating from within. The entrance, marked by a sweeping staircase, welcomed guests with ornate, carved intricate detailed doors. Charlie, Vaggie and Husk followed Alastor through the portal, Charlie waving goodbye to Niffty, and Angel. Sir Pentious was most likely hiding out in a room somewhere with his egg boys.

As guests approached, they marveled at the meticulous details of the architecture – elaborate moldings, corbels, and friezes adorned every corner. Ivy-clad walls added a touch of nature’s grace, intertwining with wrought-iron lampposts that cast a warm ambiance over the meticulously landscaped gardens.Inside, the grand foyer unfolded, revealing a sweeping staircase adorned with a rich, mahogany handrail. Crystal chandeliers hung from soaring ceilings, their light refracted by ornate mirrors that lined the walls. Plush Victorian-era furnishings, upholstered in rich fabrics, adorned the parlor rooms, creating intimate spaces for guests to gather and converse.Every room whispered of a bygone era – intricately patterned wallpaper, gilded frames displaying classical art, and the faint fragrance of aged wood and lavender.

The air was infused with a sense of refinement, transporting guests to a time when elegance reigned supreme. The Victorian mansion, a splendid backdrop for the gala, promised an evening steeped in grandeur and charm. In the middle of the exterior grounds, a grand fountain of blood took center stage. Its sculpted marble figures spouted blood into the air, catching the moonlight in a dance of liquid elegance. The fountain, surrounded by manicured gardens and flowering shrubs, became a focal point for guests as they strolled through the outdoor spaces, the gentle sound of cascading blood adding a serene touch to the gala’s errie atmosphere.

The overlords arrival made the event much more real. Alastor hums to himself as he walks around the outside grounds. There are servants of all kinds walking around with glasses of champagne. Rosie is sitting on a bench, plucking thorns off a rose. Alastor smiles to himself, happy to see a familiar face he know he can confide in.

“Rosie dear! So nice to see you.” Alastor said with a smile. She smiles at him, teeth razor sharp.

“Do you think you’ll be getting a seat tonight?” She asks, snapping the rose off its stem and tossing it to the side.

“Well of course I will. It’d be a mistake if I wasn’t.” Alastor said with a smile, crossing his legs as he sat down next to her. Sinners from all over the pride ring were socializing outside of the large mansion. He knew you were inside finalizing preparations and possibly screaming your head off. Overall, the air was chilled with a comfortable atmosphere. Well, it had been comfortable, until a loud noisy vehicle stopped at the front gates. Everyone’s heads were turning, Rosie and Alastor looking at each other with strained smiles. Stepping out of the large limousine were the three vee’s, vulgar music blaring from the vehicles speakers as the three made their way through the now open gates. Reporters lined the edges of the gates, trying desperately to see the overlords inside and to try and sneak into the gala, which was starting soon.

“Mr.Vox! Mr.Vox!” News reporters shouted. Velvet was busy taking selfies of her and her outfit, her assistant following close behind her. Valentino was busy looking down at everyone, smoking his usual, while taking his long strides next to Vox, who was in the middle of the three.

On Vox’s right was Valentino, who donned a captivating look for the gala. His tailored white suit boasted a jacket that reached just above the knee, a subtle departure from his usual floor-length coat. The crimson silk lining peeked through, adding a luxurious touch to the outfit. The coat, reminiscent of his extravagant style, also had a vivid-red hue with his signature white fur trim at the wrists. The black and white striped fur trim along the center-front added a distinctive flair. A gold chain and love-heart-shaped broach fastenings adorned the coat, creating an opulent yet alluring look. Finally, he wore polished black heeled boots, maintaining the sleek and captivating allure that defined Valentino’s presence. The familiar color scheme remained intact, blending sophistication with a hint of provocative charm for the grand gala.

On Vox’s left was Velvet, who had spent months perfecting her outfit for the gala, in hopes she’d be invited of course. She had begged the boys to keep a good public appearance, in hopes they’d be recognized and invited to the crimson gala. Velvette, deciding to ditch her usual style, embraced a lavish and over-the-top look that represented her brand. Dressed in a knee-length dress, the garment had a striking blend of black and red hues. The dress, fitted at the waist, flowed into a voluminous skirt, creating a sense of extravagance. The bodice of the dress featured intricate lace detailing. A white collar adorned with a velvet bow added a playful yet mature flair. The sleeves, a fusion of burgundy and white patterns, contributed to the overall lavish aesthetic she had been going for. Her accessories took on a more refined form. Velvet gloves, adorned with delicate lace, graced her hands, and a pearl necklace adorned her neck, adding a classic touch, completed with maroon heels, each step resonating with a sense of grandeur. Velvet’s transformation into this upscale attire reflected her desire to make a statement at the Crimson Gala.

In the middle, and the brains of the three vee’s, was none other than the head of Vox Tech, Vox himself. He wore a sleek and modern dark blue tuxedo, tailored with precision. Of course he could only have the best. The suit featured subtle futuristic patterns that enhanced his ‘perfect’ sense of style. To complement his high-tech vibe, Vox wore a light blue undershirt with an upside-down broadcast symbol. Vox's gala attire seamlessly blended power and control with his technological edge, creating a memorable look in shades of dark blue, which in his opinion, was the best color.

Upon seeing Alastor, Vox’s eye twitched noticeably. The gates shut behind the three vee’s, closing off the gala to the public. The overlords begin to get closer together unknowingly, Zestial finding a comfortable corner to watch things play out. Carmilla and Zeezie stand close together, whispering to one another as both Rosie and Alastor stand from the bench. Vox, Valentino and Velvet make their way to the Radio Demon and his colleagues.

“I see the grandpa’s were invited.” Velvet says with a scoff, scrolling through her phone.

“So disrespectful.” Carmilla says under her breath, looking away from the three vee’s.

“Hm, interesting, and I was beginning to think the only interesting thing tonight would be the dinner.” Bethesda said, her brother nodding.

“Well, it seems the children brought their play date to the public then.” Zeezie says. The other overlords laugh and Valentino sneers at her.

“Well an idiota like you would think so. Then again, don’t you all do the same with your diapers?” He asked, puffing the smoke into her face. She growls at him, fists clenching at her side, but Carmilla stops her.

“Didn’t they say this was an adult only gala?” Carmilla asked, Rosie chuckling at her words.

“Oh can it grandma.” Velvete said. But Vox remained silent, having his own personal staring match with Alastor, whose smile was stretched ear to ear, teeth on full display.

“I thought this gala was meant for real talent?” Vox asked, stepping closer to Alastor.

“Well it was until you showed up.” Alastor said with a smile. “There’s no originality in copying someone else.” He tuts. Vox narrows his eyes, face twisting with anger as he steps closer to Alastor again.

“You wanna tell me something, you old piece of-“ Vox is stopped, the lights to the exterior of the mansion dimming. The lights behind the large front doors opening slowly. Two tall black shadowy figures stepped from the door, smoke at their feet.

“Thank you all for your attendance. As we know, the annual Crimson Gala is held every year, and this year is no different. With the new extermination date, important decisions must be made. Tonight, ten individuals will be selected to sit at Madame’s table where she will discuss private plans on how to move forward.” The two said in unison. Everyone fell silent as more shadows appeared, each one sitting on the sides of the steps. Lights around the staircases began to light up, and people began making their way up the stairs.

“Well~ this should be fun.”

[hoshigray]

𝐒𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲, 𝐈 𝐇𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 | satoru gojō

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Going on a date with the guy who broke your heart is something you’d never thought would happen – especially on Valentine’s Day! But it’s just for him to be in your good graces again, nothing more…Yeah, go ahead and tell yourself that.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Gojo x fem/afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern + college AU - frenemies to lovers + mutual pining + confessions - Gojo and reader are at least age 20 - going on a date - sex in a public space; hotel room - breast fondling + sucking + nipple play - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (f! receiving) - clitoral play (sucking and swiping) - missionary position - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up or get tf up + Gojo doesn't shoot inside) - pet names (baby, cutie pretty, princess, sweetie) - angst + fluff - cameos: Shoko, Mei Mei, Utahime, Geto, Nanami - mentions of tears and spit - humor bc I'm [not] funny.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 10.3k (going out with a bang, jfc)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: final part to this short yet fun story !! tysm for the love you've given this series, it was a random idea that came to me last year and I'm so glad I was able to put more thought into it. all y'all's comments and rbs have been entertaining to read thru, love the support and engagement this story sparked with you, and I thank you sm for sticking around ccc: also!!! ty for 5.9k loveliessss mwah mwah~

and lol, yes, the title is based on the laufey song, hehe~

prev story » ❤︎

“Sorry, Satoru, Y/n doesn’t wanna see you right now — like, at all.”

“Oh, Gojo. Sorry, Y/n’s in no mood to talk to you right now. Said you better not make so much as a step past this door. Because if you do, I’ll have to charge your savings.”

“Hmph, you got some nerve, Gojo! Didn’t you hear from Mei Mei earlier? Y/n doesn't wanna talk to you…What the hell did you do this time?”

You could hear your roommates telling off the person showing up at the front door from your door. Before, they’d come to you and ask if you wish to give this person an audience for your presence. Yet you say the same thing: you’re not ready to converse with them. You’ll probably never want to talk with them again. 

It’s been like this for the past week. Ever since the little fiasco between you and Gojo — not to mention you slapping him across the face for his upsetting words — things between the two of you have been quiet as promised. The very last words you ever told him were to never speak to you again after publicly humiliating yourself by crying in front of him.

Outside of being the talk in everyone’s mouth (I mean, who wouldn’t gossip about one person slapping another after walking into them saying some mean shit about the other), you’ve been worried about by your friends ever since the incident. Your direct senior roommate, Utahime, was the first one to see you crying to yourself after coming home from classes and immediately called up Gojo to rip him a new one for making her junior roomie cry. Shoko was the passive one who listened to both sides yet still put your emotional state above anything else, telling Gojo white lies that you weren’t in your dorm room whenever he’d try to visit. And Mei Mei walked with you to your classes throughout the week in case the tall figure tried looking for you.

But it didn’t stop there. After that day, your Contemporary Issues course with Professor Naga was sheer awkwardness. The silent tension between you and Gojo was so thick that it effortlessly suffocated your peers and made it hard to concentrate — especially for the professor and your friends, Ijichi and Haibara. Outside of the class, you did your part in avoiding Gojo, and the same applies to the lectures you shared with him. No words, no greeting – not even a mere glance – were shared in his direction. It was as if your life mission was to avoid him at all costs.

However, this is Satoru Gojo we’re talking about. Although he respected your no-talking rule in the premise of lectures, he’d still try to get your attention once class was over. And even then, you’d bolt to the door to not give him the chance. He’d follow right behind you and have to maintain a respectable distance when Mei Mei was the light lavender eyes behind your back.

But what the hell did he expect? What he said hurt you to your core, so there was no way you’d want to speak with him again. He deserved that slap! The sting you inflicted on his face for a few minutes was nothing compared to the torment of your heart that’s been aching for a long while now. You can’t even look at Gojo after what had transpired. The pain he caused has been with you for a while, yet it still felt new and fresh to reflect on. 

And yet…your mind still can’t help but agonize you even more. Do you think it was easy to not engage with Gojo this entire time? Oh, it was the worst, both for your soul and mind. The memories of his smile and dimples would come up every often, pooling you deeper into your dread. The routine of him speaking to you with whispers when it was just the two of you — like he didn’t want others to find you in the comfort of each other’s presence — like it was sacred. And the way he said your name. It toyed with your heart whenever you’d reminisce it. 

“Y/n!”

Especially after how much has changed in your relationship with him, you really thought things between you and him were going for the better. Or, to be honest, becoming something a lot closer and personal. Something you grew to want with him as the days’ encounters and nightly calls went by. 

“Y/n...”

But you were wrong, lecturing yourself for being so dumb and naive for wanting such a thing. Amid the fun, you had forgotten what you two were and believed that you could change from that. Change with him. And yet here you are, broken-hearted, barely concentrating on your Word document on your laptop. 

“Hey, Y/n,” your brow twitched with the snap of reality, Utahime opening the door after knocking. “It’s the front door again; it’s—“

“GRRRAAAHHHHHHHHH!!” 

You were never one to shout within your apartment — Utahime’s eyes widened at the sudden shout of vexation. You stood up from your desk and walked past her, marching through the hallway. Mei Mei peeks from her shared room, and Shoko pours coffee in the kitchen. All three of your roommates observe you stomping to the door.

You swung the apartment door open with vigor, “I SWEAR TO CHRIST, GOJO, WHAT PART OF ‘DON’T EVER TALK TO ME’ DO YOU NOT UNDERST—…Geto?”

“Oh, hey there, Y/n. I was worried about you.” You were surprised to open the door and not find the unusual silver hair you expected. Instead, it was Suguru Geto, Gojo’s dark-haired direct roommate, rubbing his cold hands together that weren’t covered with his black windbreaker. Next to him was Kento Nanami, standing silently in his sand-colored trench coat.

“Hey, guys,” knowing they aren’t who you thought it would be, your shoulders relaxed with your tone. “What’s up?”

“Well,” Geto sighs heavily before telling anything. “We wouldn’t be here for a reason. And, after hearing what happened between you and you-know-who, I think you can guess why we're here, too.”

And then it hits — the realization of how these two’s abrupt appearance came to be. “…He asked you two to come and talk to me for him.” 

The two roommates look at each other for a second, and then Geto points behind him with his thumb to the stairwell door. You follow his finger, seeing the person you’re talking about watching you from the door window. You try not to contort your face into an ugly, exasperated expression in front of the other boys. So, you settle for a sigh to alleviate the stress growing inside you.

“Ugh. What is it.” You ask Geto with an attitude that wasn’t easily sheathed.

“Honestly, all I know is that he really – like, really – wants to talk to you.”

“Well, I don’t want to talk to him. So there,” you shake your head and backtrack past the threshold of your door. “Sorry you two came here for no reason, but I can’t—“

“—Wait!” Geto cuts you off and brings a hand on the door to stop you from closing it. You caught the intervention, widening the door again. Geto explains himself. “Look, I don’t know what happened between you—well, no, sorry. I get that Satoru said some things that hurt you last week. Believe me: I already lectured him hell and back for it when Shoko told me you came home crying, and you have every right to be mad at him right now…But—“

“Did he tell you what he said to me?”

“H—No, he didn’t,” your brow quirked at that response. He didn’t? “All he told me when I confronted him was that he messed up real bad and crossed a line.” 

“A line?” You enunciated after him. “That’s cute...Geto, he won’t tell you what he said because I caught him saying those things. That scumbag,” you averted your gaze to the door window, seeing Gojo gulp at your fierce eyes. “—knows what he said. And he knows that I told him I want nothing to do with him for that.”

Nanami was quiet throughout the entire thing, so it took you aback when he spoke. “And I’m on your side in that regard. You’re right, he is a scumbag; tactless, crude, borderline annoying—“

“Just borderline?” Geto points the word out to lighten the mood.

“And the type of person to get on someone’s nerves purposely. And with that, I don’t blame you for cutting him off. If anything, it’s what he deserves, if not more.”

You knew there was more to say beyond that. “And yet…"

“And yet,” Nanami picks it up. “…I’d be lying if I said that guy doesn’t know when he’s at fault. He can be prideful and childishly playful — albeit disrespectful to anyone he thinks doesn’t deserve it. However, he’s not emotionless, and if he is disrespectful to his friends, he knows when he’s in the wrong.“

“And take it from me, Y/n.” Geto comes in with the assist now that things are a bit calm. “Fucking asshat will take days to apologize to me for something stupid, and that’s if he feels like giving me one. But even if he doesn’t, I know he cares about me like any best friend…Like he cares about you.”

You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes, so you close them and shake your head. “He doesn’t care—“

“Yes, he does.” Nanami doesn’t let you finish that sentence. “Like I said: Gojo is many things, but he’s not an emotionless moron. Because I can tell that whatever he said distraught you to your core and made him feel bad about it — pathetically so.”

“…How do you know?” You don’t know why you asked that question; why the fuck should you care? The fucker in question is the one that broke your heart behind your back, so why bother?

“Because when he came home that day, Geto pulled him by the shirt, threw him against the wall, and yelled at him like no tomorrow. And he just stood there, letting Geto give him his rightful lashing. He even told him he didn’t deserve you as a friend, which I agreed with. But then Gojo said something after that…”

Again, this isn’t something you should be caring about. So why are you turning to Geto to ask, “…What did he say?”

“He said I was right, that he definitely didn’t deserve you.” Before the raven-haired boy answered, he exhaled through his nostrils. “And that what he said about you was, by far, the dumbest thing he’s ever done, which is saying a lot.”

“A whole lot.” The blond-haired boy jumped in. “Y/n, don’t take this as me vouching for him. But, if you could have seen the look on his face when he said that,” he nods when you shake your head ‘no’ again. “You would feel the guilt and shame pouring from him. It was pathetic to look at — pathetic for him to express. But it was real.”

And you know it’s the truth — not because it came from Nanami, but because you could picture the scene as if you were there. You could just imagine Gojo’s face, a dangerous move as your heart skipped with a twinge. You imagine the emotions he was expressing, your skin crawling thinking about his blue eyes – usually filled with life and light – appearing so broken and devoid of animation. 

“He does care about you — there’s no mistake about it. You two have been friends since freshmen year; he’d be an idiot to let those years go down the drain because of him. And that’s why we went along with coming here in his stead and asking you to talk to him.” You open your mouth, but Geto isn’t finished. “Please, Y/n. You’re the mature one, but you don’t have to act strong on this one. I can only assume, of course, but I’m sure you want this handled, too.”

He wasn’t wrong, yet at the same time, you couldn’t shake the heavy feeling that was weighing you down. 

“I…I don’t want to speak with him.” The two guys didn’t change their facial expressions. “Not now, at least...I don’t want to see his face right now.”

“Then how about a phone call later tonight?” Nanami proposed. “You two can talk it out with each other after you guys think about what to say to each other. You can even have the call while we’re sleeping so you can have privacy.”

“Ehhh, but I’m nosy.” Geto teases his sophomore roommate, making the younger blonde huff. 

“Not tonight, you are. Plus, you got a project to present tomorrow, so you need sleep.”

“Fair, fair…But seriously, Y/n, you should talk with him. If not for him, then for us, for Shoko, Utahime, Mei Mei, all of us. We don’t want you upset about what this idiot did this time. So, one talk should be okay, right?”

It should be okay. Keyword: should. However, the anxiety that you harbor within your limbs tells you otherwise. The pool in your stomach churning into a state you find uncomfortable to fight against. 

But concurrently, you couldn’t lie to yourself; a piece was missing in all of this. The resolution was needed — there had to be a way to see the entire picture in this matter. Otherwise, you’d be walking around campus mad at the person behind a door examining your reactions for the entire semester — no, the whole next year! You knew you didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with that. You can barely go through it right now. So, might as well get this off the table before it worsens…At least, that’s what you say to rationalize.

“…Okay,” you straightened your posture. “The girls have morning classes tomorrow. Tell him to call me at midnight.” 

Your answer sealed the deal, the two males dismissing themselves before you closed the apartment door. Your roommates peered around the corner once they heard the door lock, coming to ask if you were all right. You molded a faux smile and said you were fine, and yet you couldn’t tell if that was a lie to them or yourself. 

From there, the time felt so long to witness and experience throughout the day, watching one hour pass after the other. The sun had never settled under the horizon so slowly before, taking its time to draw the curtains of darkness over the Earth. And yet the time went fast simultaneously — the minutes spooked you every time you looked at the clock. 

Was this the universe’s way of toying with you for agreeing to talk to Satoru Gojo? It had to be. Your stomach doing somersaults didn’t help either; you could barely get through eating dinner because the dreaded talk bound to happen in a few hours was all your mind could think about. 

And then, when everyone was fast asleep ten minutes before midnight, your nerves couldn’t settle down. Five minutes before, you decided to take yourself and the phone to the bathroom (because the fan would be loud enough to tune out your conversation), needing the tiny space to yourself to pace back and forth and not to disturb Utahime snoring away. One minute before, you were sitting on top of the toilet, watching the seconds go by on your phone, praying that he wouldn’t call on the dot. He wouldn’t buzz you at the immediate stroke of twelve, right? He had to be doing something — anything else — hoping he’d spare you another minute if he could.

BZZZR!! BZZZR!!

However, that wasn’t the case. He called you right on the dot, and your heart jumped at the vibration from your phone. His display name was titled ‘do not answer this jerk,’ a change you made the day after the incident. Yet here you are, in the bathroom, and your thumb shaking over the green button. 

It wasn’t until the sixth vibration that you pressed the button with a sharp inhale, bringing the phone to your ear with haste. The silence was in the air for a couple of seconds, worsening your anxiousness. Until—

“…Hey.” He was the first to say something, thank God.

“Hi…..Where are you?”

“Outside my apartment, sitting on the stairwell...You?”

“In the bathroom.”

“You sitting on the toilet?”

You know what he was doing, making the conversation easier before getting to the hard stuff. Nonetheless, you admit it was working while your nervous state gradually deteriorated. “…And what if I am?”

“Then I’d say….Heh, actually, no. I can’t make that joke right now. Not when we’re like this.”

“Mmm, like this…” You hummed, the awkward tension filling the silence once again. “….Look, Gojo—“

“Before you say anything,” he cut you off, but you allowed it. “I have a lot I wanna say to you, and I want to get them out the way before I forget and never get the chance to say them to you…Can I say them?”

Your brows scrunched together, your free hand drawing reassuring circles on your thigh, and your teeth gnawing on your bottom lip. “…Go ahead.”

“Okay…So, first off,” you held your breath to brace yourself. “What I said about you on that day — I’m not gonna sit here and say I didn’t mean those things when I said them because I did. But NOT in the way you’re thinking.”

“Then what way did you mean them, Gojo?”

“I meant them in the implication that I was trying to protect what you and I had.” Had? “Our relationship was being questioned, some girl was asking about us and…I know you weren’t ready to have our business out in the world yet, so I thought….I just said what was believable with how everyone sees us since we’re always butting heads and shit. So, I said and meant those things to protect us in the heat of the moment. And then…I guess I got carried away.” 

“You guess you got carried away?” You repeated, your anxiousness now substituting for subtle anger. “…Just a little person angry at the world around them? So exhausting to deal with someone so boring and uncute as me?”

“Holy fuck, you remember it all—“

“Of course I did!” How could you not!? “And then — hmph, now this one I’ll never forget — ‘I’ve seen prettier, been with better, I feel sorry for the poor bastard who does end up with them’…” Your emotions were a mix of offense and pain, irritation and misery. Despite that, your voice maintained a calm tone, even if you wanted to do nothing but yell at the screen. Yet that wouldn’t solve this. “Gojo, the fact that I know all of that, verbatim, and have refused to talk, think, touch, or even look at you since them…To say you got carried away is just…like, holy fuck. Who the hell were you?” 

He didn’t say anything for a minute, but you couldn’t blame him. Being hit with his own words like that, any moral human being would stop and let that shit simmer into their skin. 

“…I’m sorry,” you wanted to call bullshit so bad, but not after he followed up with this. “Really. I’m so…so fucking sorry, Y/n. I know that shit wasn’t cool, and, to be honest, I expected more than one slap for that. I only meant it to save you the burden of gossip; believe me when I say that.”

“I—ahem…” Nope, you were not going to do this. Not tonight. “I want to believe you, Gojo. But I just…I can’t; it hurts my head thinking about it.”

“I know…I did that to you, and I’m so fucking sorry. My foot was too far up my mouth when I said all that, just one useless thing after another….And you know what’s crazy? I think my conscience knew me spouting shit wasn’t the right call. I mean, I literally walked with you to the class that day; what kind of friend does that and say shit like that afterward? And when I saw you….the way you looked so…distant? Just like that, everything that we had was just gone. I couldn’t see it — I saw absolutely nothing when I saw you. That scared me, seeing the happiness and the smile you had minutes ago just vanish with the flip of a switch. And I fucking did that. I knew at that moment that I lost you…..Y/n…? Are you crying?” 

You immediately moved the phone away from your ear, covering your mouth with the arm of your sweatshirt. The cries you tried to suppress poured out at that moment, and the pain that scratched your insides left your system with every sob and intake of breath. The tears damped the material, soaking them in as they rolled down your cheeks.

As ways to start the eve of your Monday, crying with the person who broke your heart on the phone was not one you expected to be one of them. It all hurt: the rapid emotions, the memories of that day replaying in your head, the genuine sincerity expressed in his voice. It was all too fucking much, your face heating up to a concerning level that you’d think you’d blow up.

You give yourself a few seconds before bringing the phone to your ear, “….What else?” 

“Huh?”

“You said—sniff—that you had other things you wanted to say to me.” A change of subject was necessary, not wanting him to notice the broken crack of your voice. “So, what else?”

The request took him aback, but he knew better than to question or fight you. “…Second of all, I wanna say – since I’m not sure I’ll ever get the chance to tell them to you in person – I want you to know that you’re more than what I said. There’s nothing 'kinda' pretty about you — you’re pretty all over. I’m not saying that to butter you up; it’s something I’ve said to myself all this time…Who am I kidding, saying I’ve been with prettier and better when I hurt the most beautiful and kindest one my eyes ever laid on….? Boring and uncute? Heh, you’re anything but. Sure, I say you're uncute when you nag at me to no end, but I don’t think there’s been a single day that I’ve thought you were a sore for my eyes. You’re too gorgeous for that.”

“Gojo—“

“I don’t deserve you as a friend, Y/n.” Your breath hitched. “Honest. I shouldn’t even be talking to you right now. And yet, you gracing me with time to spare shows that I really don’t have the right to have you close to me…I’m sorry.”

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know he was honest about his apology. You felt it in your bones; your gut told you what Gojo told you was true. Your anger was nowhere to be found, but your guard was still up.

You slowly exhale through your mouth before taking your turn in the conversation. “So…Is that all?” 

“….”

“…Gojo?”

“….”

“Gojo? Are you still—“

“I like you.”

Okay, you lied; your guard wasn't up for that.

There’s no way he just said that. There’s no way those three exact words left his mouth and entered your eardrums. They kept ringing throughout your head, bouncing off the walls of your cranium with each repeated syllable. Your eyes widened by the second, your body coming to a complete standstill. And yet, the only thing that was moving and showed signs of life was your heartbeat increasing with the silence.

He likes you. The Gojo Satoru — your frenemy, annoying peer, and friend who enjoys your yelling and nagging — likes you.

“You…You what?” You heard him perfectly, but you wanted to confirm this wasn’t some joke.

“I like you.” He didn’t hesitate to replicate. “I do, I really do. I’ve liked you for….quite a long while, way before we started having sex together.”

“How long ago is that?”

“I think since the spring semester of freshman year when we had started to get a little closer before you became friends with Geto...Yeah, for a while now.”

“…Why?”

“Hmm?”

“Why do you like me? 

You heard him sigh out a large breath before answering. “…To be honest, I just like how you…are you. Like, you’re not scared to be yourself around me. Many people I’ve known try to kiss my ass for me to call them a friend, and even then, those guys are assholes…But you, I don’t see that — I never saw that. You’d never kiss my ass; you’d always be down to tell me when I’m wrong or right. Being around you was different from other people; I felt comfortable around you like you were one of my friends.” 

You didn’t intervene, listening to every word he was to say. 

“Not to mention…Heh, you’re so cute. Like, actually. And pretty, and independent, and bright. I can’t count how many times I’ve been lost in my thoughts about you. Especially recently, you’re all that I can think about. I like how it feels to hold your hand, and your fingers look small against mine. I could never get enough of you talking to you; it’s one of the things I look forward to. And, holy fuck, the way you smile. I swear, you could kill me with that face of yours. And your eyes — I’m always told mine are so beautiful to look at, yet I find that impossible whenever I get stuck when you look at me….Y/n? Are you—You’re not crying, are you?”

You said in sniffles. “You’re such a fucking asshole, Gojo…”

“Huh!? Why??”

“You break my heart one day and then say all these things the next…Are you trying to tell me that stunt you pulled is that dumb thing where people say stupid shit about someone else because they like them?”

“Hey, I told you why I said them! Besides, those two bimbos were getting in our personal life, and we didn’t have anything to call our relationship, so…!”

“Sniff—And you! Why didn’t you tell me you liked me for so long instead of annoying me to no end?”

“I could’ve done that, but…I don’t know. I guess our relationship was easier the way we had it. Things were less complicated for you. Plus, you’re cute when you’re angry at me.”You had to scoff at that. Of course, he’d say something like that. He can be such a prick sometimes. “I was okay with how things were, being all naggy and arguing with you while secretly close to you. I didn’t want to change something we were used to into something more.”

“Mmm.” You could only hum to that sentence, letting his words sink in before saying anything. “…Would it have been a bad thing if it was something more?”

He didn’t answer immediately, indicating that he took the question in serious thought. “No…I wouldn’t have minded. But that decision was all yours to make.”  

“Gojo,” The words you were about to say were about to be so nerve-wracking that you had to take in a deep breath. Chewing on your lips while exhaling through an open mouth. “….Would it be a bad thing if I said….that I liked you, too? And that…I still like you—”

KA-BANG-BANG!!

You jumped at the sudden sound coming from the other side of the line, as it was not the response you were expecting, and you could hear him saying curses further from the phone. After a few brief seconds, Gojo’s voice comes back.

“Fuck, sorry, sorry! I just dropped my phone on the stairs!” He sounded so worried, as if he lost you. “You.…You like me?”

“Yeah, I do…” Gosh, you didn’t think this would happen, the heat on your cheeks expanding to your ears and neck. “I really do. And I’m also willing to forgive you. BUT, you have to prove your worth by redeeming—“

“I WILL!” Again, it wasn’t the reaction you were expecting! He replied with such momentous excitement that you could imagine the sparkle in his blue eyes. “I will, I promise! In fact, I have an idea; how about I take you out on a date?” 

Huh!? “A date??”

“Yeah, on Valentine’s Day, this Wednesday! I know this great place not too far from here, or maybe you wanna go to a small café to wind down from classes? You can pick—”

“Wait, wait! We have classes that day; we have our night class with Professor Yaga—“

“We could skip—“

“Hell. No.” You shut him down with quickness. “We’re going over some serious discussions that day for our papers on Friday; we’re just gonna have to do the date after class.” 

“Pfft, God, you can be such a geek sometimes.”

For the first time that night, you rolled your eyes. “Says the Digimon-fanatic talking to me right now.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He snickers at the phone, and your heart swoons at it. It felt like you hadn’t heard that laugh in ages. “So…Is that a yes?”

It had you thinking for a temporary moment; talking with Gojo again just felt so…familiar. It was something you’d been missing for the past week, accepting that you’d never experience it again. And here he is, inviting you on a date? This was, by all means, a weird night. An apology, a confession, and now being asked out? 

Regardless, you can’t shake the feeling of wanting to be by his side again. And with a chance like this, why brush it off? “Yes, I accept your date.” 

“Then it’s a Valentine’s date. Cool.”

“Cool.” You awkwardly repeated after him, becoming squeamish with the brief silence. “Okay, well, now that we talked. I need to get some sleep.”

“Mmm, okay. Go get your sleep, then. Be sure to think of me in your dreams~”

Your head is shaken again, this time with a smile. “Whatever. I’ll try…Think of me too, Satoru.”

“I always do, Y/n.” Jesus, the way he gently and affectionately said your name. Is this what it’s like to admit you like someone? “Good night.”

“Good night…Oh, wait! You said you had a joke earlier.”

“Hmm…Oh, yeah?”

“Well, now that we’re kinda on good terms…What was the joke?”

“Oh! I was gonna say it’s kinda a shame that you’re sitting on a toilet and not on my face.”

“Goodbye, Gojo.”

“PFFFT, No, wait, I’m so—“

CLICK!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

As far as dates go about, this is one that Satoru Gojo was the most nervous about. 

As promised, after your class with Professor Naga ended, Gojo waited for you with his car on Main Street by your dormitory. He was already dressed for the date, adorned with a black turtleneck and jeans that matched his Chesterfield coat. But you had a few things you wanted to touch up on before going out for the night, so he texted back that he’d wait for you outside.

What he didn’t expect was being instantly shot down by you once you came down and walked to his car. Because holy fucking shit, you looked so fucking beautiful. If this was a “touch-up,” all the people he went on dates on must’ve not been trying.

You were wearing a black halter long-sleeve top; your collarbone and shoulders were out for his eyes to trace and breathe to hitch. Your arms were shielded by a hoodie that looked a bit big for you but did its job of protecting you from the cold winds. And black thigh socks that contrasted with the plaid skirt and the puffy boots. And…did you put on lipgloss on? Holy shit.

“So,” you’d say meekly to catch his attention since he’s examining your every feature. “I’m ready…” They were simple words, yet they had the power to have him stop leaning on the car and grab the door for you. You were chewing on your lip, avoiding his gaze that watched every step you took. “You’re staring, Satoru…”

“Hmm? Oh! Sorry...” He’d close your door and mutter, scratching his neck where the heat from his ears crawled around. 

And from there, the date began. The plan? He wanted to take you to some fancy restaurant, but you politely declined and told him you’d settle for dinner and a movie. And you two did just that, going to this burger joint that was popping off when you entered. You two sat at a booth by a window, enjoying your food and conversing about each other’s day.

“You did not have to do that.” You said in giggles, bringing a fry to your mouth. 

“I did, too!” Gojo replied after taking a big bite from his burger. “The fucker almost tried to dirty my basketball shoes; do you know how much those shits cost? Expensive as hell.” 

“Yeah, but to push your buddy to an ice bath because he almost dirtied your shoes?” You shook your head with a smile. “And all shoes are expensive these days, Satoru.”

“Yeah, well, mine were custom-made. So,” he takes another bite. “Serves him right.”

Gojo didn’t notice it himself, but you saw a bit of ketchup on the corner of his mouth. Tending to your friend’s obliviousness, you grab a napkin and stretch to him. At first, he thought you were giving it to him to wipe it off himself; nope. You did it for him, tenderly dabbing the condiment off his lip. 

And you didn’t even notice what you were doing until your eyes met his, instantly pulling your hand back. “Sorry! You just…had something on there…”

“Mmm, thank you…” he said it low, but you heard him. What you couldn’t hear, thank God, was the beat of his heart going at an unsteady rate. It took a minute for you two to shuffle uncomfortably for the conversation to flow back.

After the dinner was the movie, a random action movie that you two felt interested to see. And it wasn’t that bad of a film; the plot was pretty subpar, the acting mediocre, but overall, a good movie. 

However, Gojo couldn’t focus on the movie for lengthy periods because his eyes would usually drift to the right of him where you sat, surveying how engrossed you were watching the film that you didn’t notice him. God, even in the dark, you looked so gorgeous and cute. 

Sometimes, he’d glance at your armchair and look at your hand, the inner dialogue between himself on whether he should go for it and place his hand on top of yours. But he doesn’t do it. He wants to, but he can’t, not like this. It was killing him so much; the feeling of wanting to touch you and have you against him again was haunting him — they’ve been haunting him for the past few days now.

“Fuck…” he’d mutter under his breath, but you wouldn’t hear because of the sound of explosions coming from the theater speakers. He wanted you but didn’t want to mess this date up. He couldn’t afford to screw this chance with you, he just couldn’t. 

Once the movie was over, he’d walk with you to the parking lot where the car was parked. The chill winds of February crawl up on your bodies, and you bundle up into your warm hoodie. “Did you enjoy the movie?”

He hummed with a tilted head. “Meh, I’ve seen better. It wasn’t too bad. What about you; you liked it?” 

You looked up to ponder and shrugged, swaying side-to-side as Gojo leaned on his car. “Yeah, it was okay. There’s better stuff out there.”

“You just saying that to agree with me?” 

“No, maybe you’re reading my mind and copying my answers.” You give a tiny smug look, only for him to smile along.

He then asks, “So…did I do good with this?” He can’t lie; how you lifted your brow instead of giving an immediate answer made him a little nervous. And with the tilt of your head and turning your body fully towards him, you knew you had him in the palm of your hand. You hand him your verdict:

“I think so. You treated me to good food, didn’t try to poison me, and got a free movie ticket out of it.” You jokingly punch his chest. “Yeah, I liked this date, Gojo. Consider yourself redeemed.”

He snickers lightly, “Good, I don’t think I can take another day of you being mad at me.” That made you giggle; good. Things go quiet for a while, and he averts his stare downward. His eyes land on your hand, the thoughts from the movie theater teetering back to his head. Goddamn it, he really wants to touch you—

“I can see you staring through those glasses, Gojo.” And just like that, you propelled your hand to link with his, making the tall boy flinch. “Your subtlety is wearing thin.”

Your teasing tone evokes a chuckle disguised in a sigh from Gojo, his fingers slithering to intertwine with yours. “What makes you think so?”

You peer up to him. Fuck, your eyes were so beautiful. “You were practically staring daggers at me while watching the movie. Am I on your mind that much?”

“Yes.” You expected a different answer – something more playful – and it’s why you couldn’t breathe after he brought his face closer to yours. “Infintely.”

Suddenly, the cold air didn’t bother you anymore. The heat on your face blossoms across your cheeks and ears while maintaining eye contact. “Am I on your mind right now?” He nods, your noses barely brushing each other. You whisper to him, “What are you thinking about?”

“I wanna kiss you.” He closes his eyes; you can see from his shades. “I want to hold you like I did before.” The hand clutching yours gets firmer. “I want you…Just you.”

The way he has with words effortlessly pulls you in, his voice comforting to the point you allow him to put his other hand around your waist. You faintly reply before connecting your lips with his. “I want you too…Satoru.”

When he pecks your lips, a feeling you two feared was wiped off the Earth returns to warm your bodies. Your hands instantly go around his neck like usual, sighing through your nostrils as you permit to sink into his hold and kiss.

Gojo uses this to bring his hand behind your neck to keep you on him, the kiss becoming more passionate by the second. He licks on your bottom lip, a sign of wanting entry. So, you open and lick him back before he takes the initiative to put his tongue inside your mouth. And you moan into his lips — fuck, how he missed the sounds you’d make for him. It felt like forever since the last time he heard them. 

This moment brings the spark between you two back, the sounds of the world around you drawing out from your space. All that mattered was you being in his embrace and him having you with him like this again. It all felt right — being with each other — with nothing bothering this peace meant for you two.

So much so that Gojo took it upon himself to convince you to stay with him tonight at a nice hotel close by, where you two couldn’t get off each other the moment you closed the door to your room. Hot kisses are exchanged as you two remove each other’s clothing, Gojo undoing your bra and lifting you to place on top of the bed. 

His lips never leave yours, even when his hands play with your chest. Your legs wrap around his waist to pull him closer as he rocks into you. Your core down south experiences throbs that entail you want him, your horniness dialing up with every grind of his groin.

He breaks the kiss to playfully bite your lip so he can hear you yelp for him, placing his lips from your chin down to your neck. You say in shaky breaths, “Hahhh, Satoru, please touch me more…”

He lifts his lips from your clavicle, “Of course, princess; you know I always got you.” He then licks from your collarbone down to one of your nipples in a tantalizingly slow fashion, your body squirming from anticipating what he’s about to do. His tongue finds its way to swirl around the bud, having your hum to the wet touch. And when he decides to suck it into his mouth when it’s hardened, you gasp. 

But it doesn’t stop there, one hand tweezing the other nipple as he licks around the one in his mouth. The free one snakes down your abdomen to your skirt, lifting the material for his digits to meet the damp spot of your panties. 

You jerk at the feeling of him moving the material to the side, rubbing his bare fingers on your precious, wet cunt and clit. “Ahhnn! Satoru, Satoru—Mmmm…” He rubs around on your folds in circles before adding his forefinger smoothly inside, his slender digit efficiently rubbing your vaginal walls have you holding back whimpers. 

When he thinks you’re ready enough, he adds his middle finger inside. Both his digits scrape and graze around your inner walls, provoking silent screams to leave your lips. Your fingers find his hair to tug, which only has him suck on your breast more. 

“Hooohhh, mmmmh…Right there, right thereee…please—Ohooo…!” You moan to him, your thighs jerking with every scratch of his fingers in your chasm.

“Mmm…you close, pretty?” Gojo releases your nipple for a quick second, returning it inside his warm mouth after he sees you nod hurriedly. “Hold tight, okay? Lemme get you ready, sweetie…”

You cry at the increase in speed, the nails of his fingers scraping the velvety tender spots inside you. Your body jerks to him as your hands find his shoulders to pinch on. Gojo lets go of your bud once again to move his lips down south, spreading your legs to take a look at your mess.

“Holy shit,” he says with a bitten lip before he crouches down to kiss your clit after slipping your panties off. “I fucking missed this pretty thing so fucking much.” He licks your soapy folds up to your clit, drowning the delicate button with feverish laps of the tongue. It has you screaming his name, and he loved that so fucking much.

Gojo stuffs his face to your slit, drinking your essence while teasing the clit with fast swipes. Your wails get louder and louder, and he doesn’t make it any easier when he keeps your legs spread for him to continue his work. Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m gonna cum, I’m—“Ahhahnn!!”

That’s when you come onto his face, your cunt spasming with electric pulses and your legs shaking with every hit of your orgasm. And he keeps on sucking and licking your fluids; you’d think he’s sucking the life out of you. But you can’t blame him; the boy is starved for you.

He soon withdraws his face from between your legs when you’re done with wailing and crying, licking his lips and leaving off the bed to take out a condom, throwing his jeans and drawls to the floor. But then something is wrong, and you can see it when Gojo presses his lips into a thin line before climbing back to the bed and maneuvers on top of you. He aligns the glans of his cock to the entrance of your vagina, and it’s there that you notice he doesn’t have the rubber on.

“I…I forgot to bring a condom, sweetie.” He says to you in a tune that harbors slight worry, and you can tell from his azure eyes that he’s a little nervous about this step. You held back a giggle; for once, he looked adorable when worried about something.

“…How good is your pull-out game?” You ask, half-jokingly.

His white brows trench together. “Are you sure?” 

You nod and kiss him on the cheek. “I trust you, Satoru, so just be careful, okay?” 

He blinks at you, taken aback by your lack of resistance. Yet, at the same time, he knew you needed this just as much as he did. So, with that in mind, he pushes the glans into you, observing your breathing to gauge how much to propel inside. The tip of his length then bullies itself inside you, a sharp gasp coming from your sweet lips while Gojo moans at the raw feeling of you around him.

“—Hnnn! H–Hooooly fuck,” with every inch he pushes inside of you, the sensation of your pussy chills him up his spine. The rubber had been shielding this away from him, every dent and smooth tissue of you wrapping around him. Oh, fuck, this was a dangerous game to play. “Oh, shiiit, you feel so fucking good..”

You could agree with that notion, experiencing his naked girth inside you for the very first time. You could feel his veins graze against your walls, the curve scraping your spots tenderly. “Ohhhh, fuck, you too, ‘toru…Oh my God…”

Even starting with slow thrusts was a hard card to pull, the subtraction of the condom making this feel so new and fresh — a scary dance to do with two young lovers. He pulls his cock slowly til halfway up the tip and then rushes it back inside to your wetness. Your pretty purrs fly out with every movement.

Gojo takes this time to look at you with your disheveled figure sprawled out for him to see and pick at like eye candy. Watery eyes batting up at him with pleasure behind half-lidded orbs, your chest that he loves so much out for him to give a nipple another tweak, and your legs curling around him as his tempo increases. You’re so fucking beautiful, and he’s so lucky to be able to have you under him again. He wouldn’t want it any other way — he wants to belong to you and you with him. It’s a dream he’d kill to have with you.

“Y/n…” he says your name in a shaky breath, groaning at your slit clamping onto him so suddenly. “Can I…Be your boyfriend?”

You didn’t have enough time to react appropriately because Gojo hammers his cock into you with no warning. You scream out for him to stop, to wait a minute so you can give an adequate response! But no, he ruts into you like his hips have a mind of their own, forcing you to cling onto him for dear life as the curve of his length jabs you in places that have you rolling your eyes to the stars.

“—Ahahhnn!! Ahhh! W-Wait, Satoruuuu!!” Your words slur out with a hot breath, drool coming down your mouth with no control. “You want me….Mmnph! To be your—“

“Yes! Oh, fuck…yes!” He says with no hesitation, slamming his pelvis down to your pussy so fast that his balls smack on your taint. Oh, fuck, this felt way too damn good! “I wanna be yours, and I want you to be mine—Hooooh….No one else’s…!”

“Nnahh…!! Ohhh, my God, fuuuuck…!” Your heart beats eighty miles per hour, your whole body endures heat shared with Gojo, and your thoughts travel too fast to keep up. He wants to be my boyfriend? He wants to be my boyfriend! “…R–Really?”

“Yeah, really, really.” He smiles breathlessly at you, placing a kiss on your forehead. “Let’s be a couple, yeah? I want you so bad; you drive me so fucking crazy—Hannhh!! Shit, shit… I don’t want to hide this anymore — to hurt my cutie anymore. Let’s make this official so I can be with you without worries.” He snaps his hips harshly, grinding his pelvis with the flex of his abs, provoking more horny howls to seep from your puffy lips. He lowers to whisper to your ear while a hand clings to yours on the side. “Whatcha say, princess, hmm? Let’s be together….Hmmm…!”

Holy fuck, this is not a confession you were expecting while having your insides churned out, with your crush between your legs, in the middle of a hotel room, on Valentine’s Day. Your mind was getting foggy enough from the hot commotion in your inner thighs — now your head was filling up with fantasies of being with Gojo as a couple! This was beyond bizarre, something out of a fucking movie! 

And yet, you couldn’t find any reason to say no! There’s no denying it — those feelings Gojo had for you were the same as you had for him. You feel so happy being around him, in his hold, whispering and expressing his vulnerable side to you, and you’d want to throw all that away? Hell no! 

“—Mmm, yessss,” you can’t help but shed a little tear at him, to which he readily dries away with a thumb. “Yesss, Satoru, I wanna be yoursss — please…take care of me!”

Gojo slams his lips onto yours, your mewls taken by hungry lips while his strokes go at a rapid tempo. You almost choke on his spit from the way your clit catches abrupt hits from his pelvis, and the tip of his dick pokes your fragile spots with precision. 

Oh, Jesus fucking Christ! You felt it; it’s coming. You felt it in your bones, the shivers crawling up your spine as you inhaled to prepare. “Maahhh! ‘Toruuu, I’m gonna cumm…! Quick, pull out—Oooooo!!” 

Thank God you gave him a warning. The tall other was too lost in the feeling that he was just about to come inside you! He removes his body off of yours to swiftly pull his member out, using his hand to finish the job for him, although he already misses the warmth of your cunt. 

He comes at the same time as you, his load shooting out from his urethra and spilling onto his hand. White fluids slide between his fingers as he continues to stroke himself off while your legs twitch and your slit contracts and flutters on nothing, letting the wave of your climax pass on through with every howl. 

The air of the hotel room cools your bodies after disconnecting your sexes off each other, and huffs and pants from heaving figures are evidence of you two trying to find your balance in the world. Sky-blue eyes lock in with yours, and he laughs in faint puffs.

He crawls his way back between your legs after wiping his hand, placing kisses up your neck and chin. “Hahhh, fuck, that felt way too good.”

“Mhmm,” you hum with him, letting him place his head in the crook of your neck. 

“Hey,” he traces a finger along your collarbone. “Wanna skip classes tomorrow?”

Your eyebrows draw upward. “One day of Valentine’s isn’t enough?”

“Nope~. Plus, I wanna make up a week’s worth of not being around you.”

“Pfft, sure,” you stifled a laugh. “But you need a single day to do all that?” 

He lifts his head with a grin. “Well, we don’t have enough clothes to stay here until Saturday.” He maneuvers himself to lie on his side. “Why? You doubt I can do it?”

“You’re free to prove me wrong,” you give him a sneer. “I suggest you start getting to work.” You didn’t expect your words to flip a switch, causing the snow-haired other to grab you by the legs to him. He restrains your hands above your head, and you can’t fight the giggles from his playful manner.

“With pleasure,” he claims your lips again, your sweet murmurs entering his ears.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Psst, oh my God, do you see that?”

“Holy shit, this can’t be real!”

“Woah…Am I in the right universe?”

“Satoru, I told you people would stare…hurry and let go of my hand—“

“Nope! I like where your hand is right now~.”

It was like this the entire day. Ever since your Valentine’s Day date with Gojo, things instantly returned to where they were supposed to be and more! It was amazing how one day could make the bitterness of the weeks prior dissipate with the February wind. There was nothing to be scorned about —nothing to be scared of — everything felt clear to you and the person you were holding hands with.

After that date successfully went well — and won your heart in more ways than one, you’ll admit — you and Gojo decided it was time to unveil the status of your relationship. No more secrets, no more hiding feelings for each other; you two were officially a couple, both in private and outward!

Spending two days alone together felt like a dream, being so close to each other without worrying about being seen and critiqued in the eyes of others. But now, back on campus grounds, you can’t go back on your promise and have to walk with your cheeks and ears burning as Gojo’s fingers tighten the grasp around yours. 

Of course, the change of pace was a complete shock to the students and staff on this Friday. The number of perplexed gazes and starstruck figures who stopped to look at the two of you was too many to count — hell, you even saw Professor Gakunaji’s eyes widen for the first time! It was all so embarrassing, being the talk on everyone’s mind after keeping a low profile for so long. And here you are, holding hands with the star basketball player, the guy everyone knew assumed you couldn’t stand being within arm’s length with, and now, the boy you want to spend the rest of your college life with, Satoru Gojo.

Who, by the way, is loving every single second of this — of course he is, the fucking cheeky bastard! You don’t think you’ve seen his smile and dimples never leave his face for the entire day. He was stuck to you like glue, walking you to your classes and immediately returning to your side after his lectures ended like a happy puppy. He knew you were a little overwhelmed with it all, but that wasn’t a problem because he’d happily make sure you didn’t think you were the only one going through with this. Plus, you just looked so fucking cute looking all bashful around him now that he expresses his love for you publicly. I mean, the way you were in shock after he kissed you on the cheek after walking you to your second class of the day with Utahime? Oh, he wished he had a picture! Especially with your roommate’s jaw dropped to the floor (which never closed throughout the remainder of class as she just stared at you) after seeing the startling, romantic interaction.

And now, here you two go, walking out from your last class of the day with Professor Yaga — who was caught off guard when you two walked in together with a lovey-dovey (mostly on Gojo’s part) atmosphere but gave you a small smile as you walked to your seats (which were changed because Gojo pleaded you sat next to him from now on) as Haibara and Ijichi exchanged cheeky glances at the observation. 

You two were walking down to the dining hall, where you planned to have dinner with Shoko and Geto and tell the two best friends of Satoru Gojo of your intimate relationship. But gosh, everything was going too fast! “Hey, Satoru—“

“Yeeeess~?” He says in a sing-song tune, too pleased with himself as he swings your hand to and fro with his. 

“Do we really have to do this today? Why not eat with Shoko and Geto tomorrow—“

“Huuuh!!? But I’m taking you out tomorrow!” You want to hide your face when passersby hear your boyfriend’s reaction, immediately swapping gossip when they’re out of your vision. “Besides, they’ll be hella busy studying tomorrow at the library, so today was the best option.” 

You nod aimlessly. Ughhh, this is just too much. I feel like my head is gonna implode. Then, you felt Gojo grip your palm tighter and put your walk to a stop, prompting you to look up at him again. 

“Hey,” he says with his signature smile, his dimples becoming more prominent now that you’re gazing up at him. “It’s gonna be okay, alright? I got you, and you got me, right?” And he brings you in for a tight hug that has you squeaking and your lips quivering from hearing people gasp at the display of affection. “And now that I finally have you to myself — officially! — don’t think for a second that you can ever get rid of me!”

On the one side, you really want this fool to let go of you so everyone can stop staring and you can get this dinner over with! And yet, on the other side, your heart was beating in such a tune that had you melt into his embrace, and the smell of his cologne made you hum to his chest. You can’t seem to fight the smile growing on your face and your hands coming around to hug the white-haired, lovestruck fool back. “You’re too silly, Satoru…”

“Uhh, are we interrupting something?” 

With haste, you and Gojo break the hug to see the owner of that familiar voice. To your surprise, it was Shoko greeting you two with a smile. Next to her was Geto, also harboring a sly smile on his face before you. 

You cough to clear your throat away from Gojo, who sneaks his hand on your shoulder to keep you close. “H–Hi Shoko, Geto! I see you guys beat us to the dining hall.“

“Yeah, we were wondering if you two would make it. But now,” Shoko’s brown eyes venture from the figures of Gojo and you being close together, “I can see that you two wanted a bit of time to yourselves.”

“Uhhh, oh, you know; we just wanted to walk together since we had our last class for today!” You try to move your shoulder away from Gojo, but his grasp gets firmer and firmer.

Geto laughs, “Oh, no need to act so shy on us, Y/n! It’s good to know that you two are back to being close and cool now. Especially now that you two are a couple.”

“Ohhh, c’mon now, we’re not—“ you stopped, your body going rigid, and everything suddenly fell silent. “Wait….You knew?”

Geto hums as confirmation. “Yeah? Gojo told me.”

Your face forms into confusion. Gojo?

“Me?” Silver brows hang up at the statement. “I never said anything.”

Shoko makes a slightly bewildered expression. “What are you talking about? Remember that photo that you sent to Geto on Wednesday, and—“

“Woah, woah, woah.” Gojo’s fingers tense on your shoulder. Oh, he knows he’s in trouble. You can tell as he silently removes his hand while you question his best friends. “What picture?”

“Uhhh, the one he sent when you two were out for Valentine’s?” When we WHAT!? “Hold on, lemme pull it up from our messages…Yeah, this one.”

The moment Geto brings out his phone and gives it to you, Gojo felt his heart dropped to his ass. Not that you could tell, but the aura of fear was enough to be picked up. What showed on the screen not only had your jaw drop to your feet, but the cutesy feelings you had a minute ago with Gojo faded. Instead, it was replaced with the growing irritation that had your fingers tremble.

Geto’s phone screen displays a message and an attachment from Gojo on the night of your date. Judging by the time, it happened when you assumed you two were sleeping. The attachment proves your point, showing your sleeping face peacefully on Gojo’s bare chest. And the man in question is shown groggily awake, holding his phone to take the picture while his lips are planted on your forehead. The message below the photo answers Geto’s question, “Yo, you two made up already?” To which the taller figure says, “Yeah, kissed and made up. :3”

“Gojoooo….”

Before you do or say anything, your shaky hands return the phone to its owner, which Geto takes silently while backing three steps away with Shoko. 

“SATORUUUU!!!”

You yell out his name without a care for the people around you who immediately look at you. You turn to where he’s supposed to be — supposedly by your side. But you’re not surprised to see that he’s gone, turning your heel to find that the snowy-headed figure was backing up with his hands up.

“H–Hey now, Y/n,” He says nervously. He better be nervous because your eyes showcased a wrath he wasn’t ready for. “Calm down for me, okay, princess?”

“You…Are so…FucKING DEAD!!!”

And it was there that you chased him down, running around the halls. Geto and Shoko watch with baffled expressions before they scoff with laughter. The same goes with the other students who witness the commotion, enjoying the familiar banter between you two. 

It’s weird to say that you and Gojo are officially a couple now, at least to the public eye. However, no one seems to be in denial of it or push it aside. If anything, they seem happy for you two, finally coming around to express each other’s love for one another in a better way than insults and shouts.

And your friends can say the same, enjoying the change of ambiance whenever you two are in the same space. No more trying to ignore the rambles and arguments between you two, no more tired eyes rolling around their sockets when you call each other names. Because they know those will happen anyway; nonetheless, it’s now in a better light that the banner of young love is finally open and hanged.

 It’s a love that you and Gojo can finally express, be free, and be happy with.

“COME BACK HERE, SATORU GOJO!!”

“NO, YOU’RE JUST GONNA HIT ME!!”

And you two wouldn’t want it any other way. 

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 ❤︎ reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ dividers by @/cafekitsune & @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[violetszone]

High-school Sweetheart

Charles x fem!reader

From this request

Summary: You had been dating Charles since high school, and you had just gotten engaged this year. Of course, that's what everyone thought; in fact, it had been four years since you got married.

A/n:No proofread was made. But i loveeeee this theme.

Actually, it had been almost four years since you married Charles. You were 15 and he was 17 when you first met and started dating in high school. You've been dating ever since. Of course, when you turned 20 or 22, both of you thought it was a very good decision to vow not to leave each other and got married in court. You woke up on a Monday, went to court, and got married. Only two people knew about this: Charles' older brother, Lorenzo, and his best friend, Pierre. Since you started living together after high school, no one actually noticed anything.

You were very close to his family, and people regarded your relationship as a real fairy tale. Arthur was even always joking about how he was still surprised that his brother hadn’t lost you.

This year, you were officially engaged to Charles. You were now 24 years old, and Charles was 26 years old. It actually made you very happy to finally be able to wear the ring given to you by your husband of 4 years. As usual, you were sitting and having Sunday breakfast with Charles's family and your friends, having a good time. You were helping Charles's mother, Pascale, in the kitchen with Kika. As you returned to the table with plates in your hands, you walked up to the men to call them from the poolside. Charles stood up, smiling, and placed his arms around you, kissing your cheek.

""How's my beautiful wife?" Forgetting that the others thought you two were engaged, you smiled and hugged Charles back. Arthur spoke as he stood behind you, "Soon-to-be wife. Charles, you immediately got into the mood." He laughed. As Charles looked at you lovingly and brushed your hair out of your face, he raised an eyebrow at Arthur and spoke over his shoulder, "What makes you think she's not my wife?" You narrowed your eyes and gently tapped Charles on the shoulder. Arthur frowned. "The fact that you just got engaged?"

Charles and you looked at each other and laughed. Pierre stood watching the events nervously. "Here we go," he said while rubbing his face. While Pierre was holding Arthur, who looked surprised, by the shoulders and walking him to the table, Arthur objected, "What do you mean, Charles? Wait a second...." Charles held your hands and led you to the table. Pascale got angry at Arthur in French and then turned to Charles. "What did you say to your brother again? Now the boy won't be silent all day."

This time, Pierre hit his forehead with the palm of his hand. "Oh no," he groaned. You smiled softly at Charles. "Tell them," you shrugged. Charles walked behind you and put his hands on your shoulders. "Y/N and I have actually been married for four years." Everyone looked at the two of you in shock. Arthur fell off his chair. Lorenzo was trying not to look at anyone while stuffing bread into his mouth. Pascale turned to him. "You knew about this!" she exclaimed. As Pierre slowly turned his back to the table, Kika pinched him. Pascale looked at Pierre this time. "You too?!" she asked in disbelief.

"We were the only ones who didn't know!" Of course, though they were shocked at first, they were actually very happy. Both approached Pascale, hugged her, kissed her, and tried to win her heart. Pascale still kept telling you that they were going to have a beautiful wedding, then she smiled at the two of you.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

aita for being asexual?

ok this is a long one, my apologies in advance

i (29f) have been in a relationship with my husband (28m) for 5 years, married for 1.

i am a sex-repulsed asexual and deeply opposed to getting pregnant (but not opposed to having kids!). i told my husband this on our fifth date, and then again over text after our seventh date. oddly specific? yes, but those were two of the most terrifying moments of my life, so i remember them very well hahaha

anyway, husband decided i was worth it, and we got serious. 2 years ago, i proposed, and between cake tastings and wedding prep, we started talking about kids in the short term.

i was (and am) still very opposed to me getting pregnant, so our options were adoption or surrogacy. i was leaning towards adoption, whereas my husband was leaning towards surrogacy.

i talked about this with my best friend, who said surrogacy would be great! she would even be the surrogate mother for us! and so, i was convinced.

wedding happened, honeymoon happened, we got back, and then started the IVF process. embryo took, yay!

as my best friend's pregnancy progressed, she and my husband became good friends. they were already friendly, but they got close between late night craving runs and doctor's appointments. i thought it was amazing! the two (and a half) most important people in my life got along well. i was absolutely delighted.

and then i left for a work trip.

these trips happen often, at least once every two months. this trip was supposed to be three days. third day started at 8 AM and ended at noon, but i was able to get away, and was home by 9 AM. i walked into MY apartment. walked into MY bedroom, expecting to find MY husband sleeping in MY bed, so i could surprise him.

instead, i found my husband and my very pregnant (32 weeks) best friend engaging in the horizontal tango. the devil's dance. creating the beast with two backs. bear with me, i am attempting to find humour in my pain.

anyway, this was almost 3 weeks ago. i immediately kicked them both out and have been alone at home for that long.

i . . . I don't know what to do. apparently this affair has been going on for almost as long as my husband and i have been together. i feel like it's my fault. i should have just given in and given my husband what he wanted. is this my fault? and what do i do when my best friend gives birth?

What are these acronyms?

[killerlookz]

hiii!!<3 if you’re thinking abt writing for joost, can u pls write some thing abt an established relationship fic based off the song birds of a feather by billie eilish if u can! love ur writing!

Hi anon! thank you sm for the request <33 this song is so sweeeet omg!!! also... technically an established relationship, but i do recap how reader and joost met :-)

Birds of a Feather | Joost Klein

description: gn!reader reflects on all the special moments in your and Joost's relationship following an unexpected proposal.

content: so insanely cheesey! sorry! pure fluff! + lots of crying (mostly happy tears) literally the most tiny smallest sexual reference

word count: 2426 (this was supposed to be under 1k words but i got soooo carried away)

/I don't know what I'm crying for / I don't think I could love you more/

Shaky fingers fiddle with the cold metal looped around your ring finger. Your hand flexes outward, watching as the light from your window reflects onto the small stone. Something warm rolls down your cheek- a solitary teardrop, caressing the skin of your face. Your hand reaches up to wipe away the tear, but it's too late, you can feel more welling up near your waterline, any sudden movement now would send tears streaming down your face. You look up, your eyelids brink rapidly in an attempt to prevent the inevitable waterworks.

You hadn't seen an engagement coming- in all the years you'd been together, it still seemed like a milestone that had felt so far away. Until Yesterday.

You and Joost had been nearly inseparable since just about the moment you had met- A nervous 20-year-old studying abroad in the Netherlands for your second to last semester of university. You sat on the stairs outside of the apartment building that stood as your temporary housing for the semester, on the brink of tears, your randomly assigned roommate had been a real piece of work. You were on your third argument that week alone, and, saying you were fed up was an understatement. You contemplated at that moment packing your things and just going back home.

"Gaat het?" (Are you ok?) A voice calls out, a goofy-looking blonde standing at the bottom of the stairs. He looks vaguely familiar, you think you may have seen him in the elevator of your apartment once or twice.

You furrow your eyebrows at him, "Ik spreek niet veel Nederlands," Using one of the few Dutch phrases you knew to tell him you don't speak Dutch. You shake your head, kind of hoping he would get lost, not wanting to be bothered.

"Ah," He nods, "Do you speak English?"

You stare at him for a moment, unsure if you should lie, after all he was a stranger but something is telling you to tell him the truth.

"Yeah," You sniffle, attempting to remove any emotion from your face.

"Are you okay?" He asks again, this time you understand.

"I'm fine," You weren't exactly searching for a deep conversation about your current struggles in someone you didn't know.

"People who are fine don't usually sit outside their apartment building crying."

You bite your lip, contemplating engaging the kind stranger in what was ailing you at the moment. You sigh, having a feeling he would probably keep pestering you if you continued to insist you were feeling in a way you actually weren't.

"It's just my roommate-"

Two months after your first encounter with the blonde man at the bottom of the stairs, you were standing in front of a mirror, doing a final check of your outfit before going on your first date. You had learned his name was Joost, he was 21, and lived in an apartment two floors above you.

He was unimaginably kind, with a wit unparalleled by anyone you'd ever met before, and truthfully, he was very cute- so when he had initially asked you out, you couldn't get a "yes" out fast enough.

It seemed a little inconvenient, given that you only had one more month left in the Netherlands- but he knew this, and didn't necessarily seem like he had been looking for anything too serious. Besides, it would be nice for you to have a good connection with someone outside of the people you saw in your classes.

There's a knock at the door, and your feet are quick to start shuffling under you, you're practically running to go open it.

You stop for a moment as you get to the door, letting a deep breath fill your lungs to capacity, before letting it out, whipping the door open as you do so.

Joost is standing behind it, a smile plastered on his face, hands behind his back. He's dressed up, now that you thought about it, you never really saw him in anything other than a sweatshirt or t-shirt and some jeans. It was a pleasant change- a white button-up shirt and some dress pants even if both articles of clothing had been obviously wrinkled.

"Hey," He greets, removing his hands from where they rest behind him, revealing a bouquet of flowers in an outstretched arm, "These are for you- I didn't know what kind of flowers you liked so I sort of just guessed." He's unsure of himself, in an entirely endearing way. He was trying.

"For me?" You grin, "Aww, Joost!" You take the flowers from his hands, "Let me go find something to put these in."

A month later you're sitting on Joost's couch after what you assumed would be your last date together. Your study abroad program was ending in three days, and you'd be returning back home.

There is an air of sadness that surrounds you, one that you hadn't expected to feel- you'd only known the man for three months, yet somehow it felt like you were leaving someone you had known your whole life.

Gentle fingers grab onto your jaw, Joost is turning your head to force you to look at him.

"You know," He starts, "I've really been enjoying our time together."

"Me too," You agree, a small smile peaking onto your face, you try not to give way to the sadness you were feeling.

"And," He says, "Y/n, I really like you, and I think if I don't ask you now, I'm never going to get the chance to ever again."

"What?" You perk up, your heart suddenly beating much faster, your breathing quickens, unsure of what he's going to say next.

"Well- I- what I'm trying to say is, do you want to go out with me? Like- officially- like dating." His voice is trembling, you'd never seen him so anxious before.

"Joost I-" You sigh, the reality of your situation crashing into you harder than it had before, "I'm leaving soon- we'll be hours away, when am I going to see y-"

You're cut off by Joost's lips crashing into yours, your thoughts suddenly disappearing the second your lips connect. You're entirely overwhelmed with emotion, every wire in your brain is fried, this move was an utter surprise, up until this point your relationship had been entirely chaste; the furthest you'd gone was sharing a hug at the end of your dates. Still, you kiss him back, your hand finding its way to his shoulder, tugging at it, begging him to come closer to you.

It had been seven and a half months since you had last seen Joost, but the two of you had talked at length each and every day during that time. By now, you had finished your degree in University and were ready to really start your life.

You could remember the cheer of excitement on the other end of the phone when you told Joost after a month of job hunting you had secured a job in the Netherlands.

"Does that mean you're coming back here?"

"Yeah, the job starts at the end of next month ."

A month and a half didn't necessarily give you much time to plan things out to the extent you would have liked, but Joost was more than ready and willing to help you out.

He had posited moving into his apartment- but the suggestion while sweet- was quickly thrown out. It wouldn't have been an ideal commute to your new job.

So the two of you got on to looking elsewhere, he had been kind enough to take the time out of his days to go to apartment showings for you near where you'd be taking your job, keeping you on Facetime as he viewed the places.

Eventually, you had found one you absolutely fell in love with, in perfect distance from the job. The problem had been- it was quite a ways out of your budget. You were heartbroken, it had basically been your dream apartment.

Joost, always swift with solving problems, suggested that the two of you move into the apartment together, that way he could cover the rest of the rent that you couldn't afford. And while you were over the moon about his offer- you worried about what living together would do to your relationship, the two of you had known each other for less than a year- would living together be such a great idea?

But as you're standing in the doorway of your bedroom on the first night being in your new apartment, staring up at Joost, who's leaning against the door frame- you just know you made the right decision.

A careful hand glides across your cheek, resting at the back of your neck,

"Thank you for coming back," Joost muses, gently massaging the spot where his hand resides. You lean into his touch,

"There was no other option" There's an undeniable twinkle in your eyes, admiring the man who stood above you, tired and messy from a long day of moving.

"I've been waiting to tell you this in person," His grip on your neck suddenly becomes still, rigid, "And- even if you don't feel the same yet, I just wanted to say that I love you." He's talking fast, simpering after he finishes his short words before resuming the gentle massaging motion of his thumb against your neck.

The breath is almost entirely knocked out of you- he loves you.

The words just about run out of your mouth, "I love you too,"

"You do?" His pupils are blown wide, "You love me too?"

You nod fervently, never having meant a statement so immensely in your life.

Joost is leaning down now, his head tilted so his lips can perfectly interlock with yours. It is possibly the hungriest kiss the two of you had ever shared, with the obvious implication of love now behind it. If Joost hadn't snaked his free arm around your back, you probably would have fallen straight to the ground, your legs tingling with excitement.

He pulls away, looking into your mostly empty bedroom, a smirk appearing on his face,

"What do you say we christen that bed I spent all day putting together?"

Five years later you're still living in that same apartment, the once-empty space now fully decorated with beautiful memories.

And now, the most crystal-clear memory sparkled in your brain, almost as bright as the ring itself. You'd been crying in intervals since then- since it happened since - You replayed it in your head.

"Do you remember when we first met?" Joost's fingers interlock with yours as the two of you walk down a familiar street- You were unsure of why Joost had insisted on taking you here, to the town where you both had lived when you met.

"How could I ever forget?" You grin, "Feels like just yesterday I was crying to some strange Dutch boy about my roommate issues."

"And how you told me, you never wanted to see the Netherlands again?" His words are slow as he looks deeply into your eyes, glimmers of adoration shining from every feature on his face.

"God, I was so dramatic- wasn't I?" You look away from him, scoffing as you look down at the pavement, thinking about your old self, looking back on it- it was a stupid decision to let one person ruin almost two months of your life, but back then it seemed like the biggest deal in the world. "Funny" You shrug, "The decision I made to talk to you on the day I was most certain I was just going to pack up and leave forever led me to making the Netherlands my home." You shake your head, "I don't know what would have happened if I hadn't met you on that day, but I don't think there's a reality that exists where we aren't together."

"Don't make me cry," He chuckles.

"I mean- I don't mean to be all sappy, but it's true- if soulmates are real, I can guarantee you're mine."

He's grinning now, you'd been so lost in your thoughts you barely noticed where the two of you had ended up, back at your old apartment, right in front of those very steps the two of you had met on.

He's pulling you up the stairs, and needless to say you're confused about this trip down memory lane.

"I think it's only appropriate that I do this here," His voice is low, and he's blinking more rapidly than usual. His hand slips from yours, and falls into his pocket- you watch anxiously for his next move. There's something in his hand now, and he's slowly bending down onto one knee.

The tears start nearly immediately, before he says a single word, you're cupping your mouth with your hand

"Y/n," He looks up at you, through the lenses of his glasses you can see there are tears in his eyes too, "Wil je met me trouwen?" (will you marry me)

"Joost," You choke out a sob- "Yes, Yes!" Your whole body is full of a tingling sensation, and your heart feels like it occupies more space in your chest than it did before, swelling with an overwhelming amount of love.

Joost grabs your trembling hand, caressing it tenderly with his thumb before slipping on the ring. You let him hold your hand for a moment more before you're pulling it away, desperate to see. You outstretch your hand in front of you, looking at the glimmering stone that sits on your finger. A visual confirmation of what had just happened.

He's barely stood all the way up before you're reaching for him, knocking into him with an embrace so energetically that it nearly knocks him over. As he catches his balance he wraps his arms right back around you, pulling you into him.

If you were to have gotten any closer, the atoms that make up each of your bodies may have actually fused together. Though you wish you could, despite how you fully braced Joost's body it doesn't feel like enough you want him closer to you.

Still, you're so warm in his tight embrace, letting out choked tears of joy against his chest.

A gentle kiss falls on the top of your head, followed by your favorite words to hear out of Joost's mouth, "Ik hou van jou." (I love you)

You shut your eyes, basking in the moment, you could absolutely get used to hearing those words every day for the rest of your life.

/I'll love you 'til the day that I die / 'Til the light leaves my eyes/

[verstarppen]

summary; there's little time between fast cars and spaceships, but you make it work

pairing; lando norris x fem! star wars actress! reader [ no faceclaim ]

a/n; singapore godzilla return was not on my 2023 bingo card but here we are;

[ series masterlist ]

liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo, charles_leclerc and 2,385,991 others

yndeathtrooper stuff happened

view all 554,211 comments

norrisun HELLO???????

grussellsprout2 getting married before your 6 month anniversary is insane

ferrariclerc THIS IS A JOKE THERE'S NO WAY albonite I tried to reverse google search the photos and I can't find anything

starinz am I desensitized or is this a totally normal thing for them. like yeah lando and y/n got married randomly without an engagement announcement and after a couple of months of dating- that's like a normal thursday.

yukierretruther I MANIFESTED THIS HELP

kingmag9 I don't believe it, they'll come back in a week and admit it's a joke

liked by yndeathtrooper, landonorris, oscarpiastri and 1,982,288 others

mclaren Say "cheese"! 🧀📷 2022, that's a wrap. 👊

view all 764,772 comments

yndeathtrooper AYYY

landonorris am i free now

mclaren Not with that wedding stunt, you're not. danielricciardo I want to make it clear I had 0% involvement with this. yndeathtrooper HE HELPED EVERY STEP OF THE WAY

liked by f1, yn.jpg, oscarpiastri and 1,989,444 others

daniel3.jpg Can the owner (@ yndeathtrooper) of this lost, sad dog come and pick him up. I'm tired of the barking. My ankles are covered in bite marks. I can't stand him.

view all 280,203 comments

yndeathtrooper bro's eyes are like liquid moonlight i can drink from flower petals or pure larimar only the gods can mine from the stars

daniel3.jpg Shakespeare rolled in his grave lando.jpg SHE WANT ME FR yn.jpg defamation. see you in court, norris-l/n. lando.jpg already there, l/n-norris.

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, alex_albon and 3,409,124 others

yn.jpg happy new year :D

view all 892,144 comments

alex_albon Being featured on this account feels greater than winning an award

yn.jpg what if i cried, what then :(

charles_leclerc Thank you for not including a picture of your New Years kiss, it was traumatizing to witness.

landonorris hoes mad that i had someone's tongue down my throat and he didn't yn.jpg LANDO NO-MIDDLE-NAME-GIVEN NORRIS YOU APOLOGIZE TO POOR CHARLIE RIGHT NOW landonorris no. yn.jpg 🤨 i would like to file for divorce. landonorris fine. you're so persuasive. charles_leclerc Simp. landonorris BITCH.

princepercival AWWWWW

vettelover HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

carlitos_55 THE FIRST PIC OMG

landonorris love you or whatever 🙄

yn.jpg :)

pic credits: instagram and pinterest

taglist: @justdreamersdream @cha-hot (taglist is open!)

[soapybutt17]

Too Sweet For Me

Summary: It was the annual Military Ball, the fifth one since you and John have been married in secret. With his new promotion as Captain, meant a whole ball park of responsibilities he was still getting used to—but nothing gets to him more than the mere sight of you, his beautiful darling in the dress he always loves. It was also something to prepare for with the new changes that came to this year’s ball. Character: John Price x F!Wife!Reader. Kate Laswell. Word Count: 2,190 Chapter Warnings: None. Author's Note: this was also supposed to be for @glitterypirateduck's O'Captain challenge but my appendix had other plans for me this past few days. Lol.

Inspired by this song (obviously)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist || Request are Open || Join My Taglist

“Darling.” You couldn’t help but smile at your husband’s pained groan.

With a red backless dress, you know you would turn heads with your outfit and even more certain that your husband would be killing a few men if you weren’t too careful about him.

“Behave.” You pulled away from him as soon as you felt his hands hold onto the small of your exposed back. You turned to face him, seeing him so handsome in his ceremonial uniform, an upgrade since his new promotion.

“I don’t think I can see myself behaving with you looking so ravishing.” He muttered approaching you again and pulling you into another kiss, allowing him this one time since you have yet to put your make up on. “Will this be a problem for tonight?” He playfully warned.

“If you keep your hands to yourself it won’t.” You playfully pointed out pecking him on the lips one last time before turning your attention back to your vanity mirror to put on your makeup. “I’m surprised that you actually plan on coming to this year’s event. I’d expect you to just stay home after the last mission.” You pointed out.

Behind the bravado and the handsome uniform your husband had on, was a broken but healing man that just got back from a mission. A few scrapes and bruises you all know too well were hidden perfectly well, but the black eyes was something that would take more than an ice pack and makeup to actually cover.

“Better to be there to see what those muppets have planned.” He grumbled.

You had accidentally let it slip that there was going to be an auction for this year’s event and you had volunteered to be part of the auction. A simple date that you were certain meant absolutely nothing but it was for a great cause and you couldn’t really fault them with.

Your husband was still apprehensive about the fact, especially knowing that no one was made aware of your relationship to each other. Everyone was given the fact that you were both good friends that had been on countless missions together. It was nothing but friendship between the two of you if you were ever spotted in town together even when the both of you knew it was something more.

“It’s just one date, even Kate is joining along.” You tried your best to reassure him but it wasn’t happening whatsoever with the deep frown resting on his lips.

“Just because I agreed to this doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.” He muttered under his breath, finally resigning by your decision, which you were thankful for. No need for you to try to convince him with anything.

“You owe me for this. I need some kind of motivation for tonight not to blow someone’s head.” He muttered.

And you spoke too soon.

“How about a day or two in that ritzy cabin you’ve been pestering me about for weeks now.” You offered.

One thing you truly hated was being too out of touch with society if you could avoid it. You have to do it for work, you weren’t so keen on doing it in your personal time if you didn’t have to. But your husband just was a recluse when he wants to be and this was one of those many instance that he will have his way.

“Deal and the ring stays on so they know you’re mine.” He muttered.

You smiled, lifting your hand up for him to see the sparkle of your engagement and wedding ring still nestled on your finger. Even without him saying it, you wouldn’t even dream of removing it.

~

The newly promoted Captain John Price should have been at the top of the world because of his new title, but it was far from the reality of it as he watched his beloved wife continue to mingle amongst both officials and fellow soldiers. It still shook him to the core how someone like you could command yet bring comfort to anyone that was privileged to be in your presence.

But that was just what made him love you so much. How someone like you, a Lieutenant to his own position as a Sergeant would never once use your position to demean him or treat him as anything less than you were. Some may say your call sign as Rookie to be an insult, a way to make you less than what you truly were, but you proved time and time again that it was a reassurance to anyone lower than you that you will stand on equal footing as them if the need arises especially on missions.

“Rookie’s already stealing the spotlight.”

John turned his attention to one unfortunate woman he had the misfortune of meeting in his life that turned his whole world upside down. Kate Laswell was an intelligent woman—far too much for her own good at times but she was the best of the best in her line of work. She was one of the main reasons why he was placed in a mission that ended with him finally climbing the ranks.

“As she should.” John agreed, subtle in his comments as to avoid anyone, especially Laswell from thinking anything was going on between the two of you.

“I still can’t believe she refused the promotion.” She continued taking a swig at the whiskey she was cradling, only bringing a craving for one in John himself.

“I’ve heard. I don’t think she’d be a good fit with the paperworks from the looks of it.” He added.

Of course he knew the very reason why you had refused the promotion on your own end. You were in all accounts a better fit than him to become a Captain, a rank that had been a well-deserved position for everything you’ve done but every single time the topic would be brought up you had threatened retirement or AWOL if anyone pushes. You never truly saw yourself as someone that would be working behind the desk, you couldn’t help and navigate dealing with officials, you admit you were never built for such capabilities.

“I believe she is. You should have seen her chew on Shepherd during the last mission. She’s got guts and a heart that not something you see in the field often.”

He nodded, that was what made you special. He watched you now begin a lengthy conversation with the well-known and very much feared soldier Ghost. How you had been the only one to hold a conversation and not trembled at the sight of the monster of a killing machine.

“Why am I not even surprise with her.” He chuckled turning his attention away from you and turning towards Laswell. “So, are we just gonna spend the entire night talking about Rookie?”

“That’s not much of an issue for you Captain.” Laswell smirked knowingly.

“Will I ever live that down?” He questioned, jokingly.

He was once again reminded of the time in his drugged state where he was delirious enough to propose to you after a mission gone wrong. To many it was just him too drugged from painkillers but for you it was an intentional proposal that you accepted once you were alone.

“You’re never gonna escape the allegations, John. I will never allow it.” Laswell smirked finally excusing herself when the MC has begun.

He made his way to this designated table, his eyes always following you. He watched as you made your way backstage to prepare for the auction later on tonight. It brought the never ending dread in the pit of his stomach as the staff began distributing the auction paddle around, accepting his own without an ounce of hesitation.

It will be a long night that much he has come to realize.

~

“One Thousand!”

You had faced so much trials and tribulation during your career in the military. The vile and often times immoral acts that was placed against you during interrogations and kidnapping, but nothing in your life could have given you more shame than to be standing in front of the stage as numerous bids have been placed upon your name.

Your eyes had been following along to the numerous of individuals that were bidding, some were colleagues your husband had been all too certain had hots for you, others were top officials that you were more than certain were pigs for involving themselves in the date auction knowing they were married, then there were the guests that had been leering at you all night long.

Maybe your husband was right, the auction was a big mistake.

Your eyes scanned the entire room until they met the familiar eyes of your husband. The reassurance had settled on his eyes as much as the annoyance but he was waiting for you to give him the signal.

Somehow with a simple nod it was all he needed to do to raise the paddle and his booming voice had silence everyone.

“Ten thousand.” His voice had everyone turning.

It was one of the highest bids for the night and it just had to be from the man himself. The rest of the night had been a blur, after the auction and countless of formalities and empty conversations, you had found yourself in the arms of your husband as he helped you back onto the car.

“You alright?” He inquired cupping your cheeks the moment he had helped you with your seatbelt.

“Will get better.” You assured him grounding yourself back to reality as he patted your cheeks and driving the two of you back to your shared apartment.

The car ride was silent, the event with the auction still playing in your head. It could go so wrong in many ways if your husband did not intervene. It was supposed to be for a good cause, but it did not feel like it when you stood in front of the stage. You felt more like meat being prepared to be slaughtered.

Eventually you two had arrived back. Your husband opened the car for you and led you back to you to your apartment. The silence was consuming you more than you expected it to.

“Want to sober up or not?” Your husband inquired.

You turned to look at him as he made his way to the kitchen.

“Sober up would be great right now.” You sighed following him to the kitchen, hopping onto the barstool by the kitchen island. Toeing off your heels in the process, an unintentional moan escaped your lips from the relief on your feet.

“I haven’t done anything yet and you’re already moaning, My Love?” He teased placing a mug of coffee in front of you, from the smell alone you were all too certain was too bitter for your taste.

“Play your cards right and maybe I’ll be the one to make you moan all night.” You quipped right back, cupping the mug and relief of the warmth washing away the events of the night.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” He smirked turning towards your mini bar and pour himself a hefty pour of whiskey.

“Surprised you didn’t threatened anyone at the party.” You pointed out.

“I could do lots of things, but I decided it wasn’t worth the hassle for either of us.”

You nodded, watching him unbutton his uniform and sit beside you. Your head immediately finding their way onto his shoulder.

“I’ll pay you back what you paid for the auction.” You promised him.

“You would do no such thing.” He ordered. “You’re worth every pretty penny I’ve paid for tonight.”

You blushed at his words. Even in the years of being with the man, he still has his way of turning you into the girl that had always had a crush on the handsome gruff all only had eyes for you.

Your eyes turned towards your hand, the sparkle of your rings was always present and never once did you remove them even at the party. You wanted to keep your relationship private but never a secret and there are days that you wished to let the world know. But now with his new promotion and you having to lead yet another mission with the help of him now, you doubt it would be a good thing to do.

“You’re too sweet to me sometimes, even after how shitty the night turned out.”

“Nothing shitty about tonight. I get to see you all dressed up and all eyes on you knowing you’re gonna come home to me tonight and do whatever their empty little heads could formulate.”

You rolled your eyes cupping his cheeks and move him slightly too pull him into a kiss that you had desperately wanted to give him all night long. The taste of whiskey brought a sudden thrill through your core.

“Plan on showing it to me, Captain?” You purred and the way his eyes blew out, it was all notification you needed to know as you were unceremoniously lifted into his arms.

Whoever thought your husband had a Captain Kink?

[chaoticloving]

idk if you write smut so if you’re uncomfortable totally ignore this!!! but!!! imagine y/n and recently fiance!harry and him fingering you with his ring finger talking abt marriage and shit 🫣🫣

future husband

Harry styles x reader (masterlist)

summary: Harry proposes and it leads to sex

warnings: smut

a/n: IM SORRY THIS TOOK TOO LONG I JUST NEEDED TO BE IN THE RIGHT MOOD TO WRITE SMUT AND THEN TUMBLR DIDNT PUT IT IN THE TAGS AHHH

Harry's ring obsession started when he was in his early twenties.

He rarely wore any type of a jewelry or anything flamboyant when he was younger. He painted his nails on occasion, something to relax himself with or whenever Y/n was doing hers, but nothing too grand.

But a simple silver chain given by his one and only changed that.

He started getting a little more into jewelry, necklaces, earrings, and his favorite, rings. He liked the intricate designs that rings ment; they could be loud and a stable piece, or they could be a subtle addition to the outfit.

They could also symbolize love.

After dating Y/n for three months, he knew he was certain that he wanted to stay forever with her, he just didn't allow himself to think of marriage this early into a relationship--at least not until his mother asked when he was going to propose after meeting her around their six-moth anniversary.

Finally though, after just under two years, he popped the question. He got a beautiful engagement ring, a band with beautiful engravings throughout, and of course, a huge fucking rock.

"Harry." Y/n sniffled, seeing Harry on his knee, ring in hand. "Of course, yes!"

A lovely proposal in a quiet and quant cottage away from civilization was perfect and exactly what they needed, not only for their privacy but for the ability to have sex in the middle of the woods. Harry bought this property not too long ago and waited for the right moment to take Y/n there, a proposal seemed like the best time.

The kissing of course led to more, how could it not? Harry was always a passionate lover, always eager to please, so it was honestly no surprise when the soft kiss turned more sensual.

"Fuck, I'm so glad you finally asked." Y/n mumbled softly as their lips kept touching, coming back for more. "Can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you as my husband."

Harry moved onto her neck, biting softly as he went down. "It's all I've ever wanted." He groaned as Y/n's hand trailed down to his pants, she teased him slightly, earning a moan from him. "And to please you again. Lay down."

Y/n made herself comfortable on the blue and white picnic blanket. Harry moved the basket and wine bottles out of the way. He pulled flipped her dress up, revealing her lacy set on panties.

"Planning to seduce me today?" He asked with a raised brow.

"I had a hunch you might be asking me to marry you." She shrugged her shoulders, biting her lip to hide, poorly, a cheeky smile.

"How?" Harry gasped, his fingers tracing the band of her underwear. "It was top secret!"

"Oh come on, H." She giggled, her hand coming up to stroke his cheek. "You take me on a surprise getaway, no one around, to a cottage that is darling... It's the most romantic thing you have ever done."

Harry blushed. The midday sun gleaming perfectly on his skin, twinkling his green eyes and highlighting the freckles that scattered his slightly tanned skin. Y/n couldn't help but feel so lucky. This beautiful man, inside and out, is now her fiancé; she started to tear up, which, of course, caused Harry to tear up as well.

"No don't start baby." She told him. "We need to focus so we can have sex. No tears now."

She wiped her tears then Harry's. "You started it." He mumbled, smiling as he finally pulled her panties down. "We just love each other too much."

"I guess so-" Y/n gasped as Harry entered a figure into her. The familiar feeling was welcomed as the subtle feeling of pleasure began to buble up inside of her. "Fuck that feels so good."

Harry was leaning half on and half off of her, his right hand fingering. her while his other held him up so he could kiss by her ear.

"Don't get one of your rings stuck in me." She warned, looking sternly at her love. Harry shook his head and kissed her softly.

"I would never."

Harry had on a simple band, one similar to the new one adorned on Y/n's finger. He figured while he was buying the engagement ring he could buy a matching one for himself.

"I can't wait to marry you." He spoke softly, creating a new hickey just under her ear lobe. "Gonna wanna fuck you again when I see you in that dress, don't know if I could wait till the honeymoon."

He added a finger, adding to the pleasure.

"And seeing you with that ring...It's going to be as sexy as your lingerie. Just knowing you're mine and I'm the only one that can ever see you like this."

"Fuck, H. Gonna come."

"I'm the only one who will get to see my wife like this. And everyone will know I can only to this do you...I'm the only one capable." Harry's words were possessive yet reassuring, the constant validation that he was the only one for her pushed her over the edge, leaving a gasp from her mouth.

"Har I need you inside." She yanked him fully on-top of her, unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down after Harry quickly pulled his fingers out of her, but not before a little taste.

He helped her strip himself, knowing she is just as possessive as him but just doesn't always vocalize it, but her actions speak louder than her lack of words.

Harry entered Y/n, the euphoric feeling washing over him as he let out a loud moan, mentally thanking himself for buying the isolated land. "Feel so good."

"You stretch me out so much." She gasped. "My future husband."

Harry thrusted, a reflex from her words in her sexy, faint, voice. "Don't say that or else I'm going to come in less then a minute." He paused, staring into his loves eyes. "Want to impress my future wife."

"You impress me every day. Every time I see you I have something new I love about you." Y/n leaned in a kissed him, it was mainly teeth, but still perfect nonetheless. "Today it's your cock."

Harry stopped thrusting briefly. "You mean it hasn't impressed your before today?"

"It's the first time I've been impress by my fiancé's cock, I was already impressed when he was my boyfriend." She assured. Harry rolled his eyes and got back to thrusting, moving his ring finger down to her core and rubbing soft circles on her clit, making her jolt slightly.

"I'm gonna cum again, H."

"Me too."

They both moaned as they climaxed at the same time. Harry collapsed onto Y/n's chest, arms exhausted from keeping himself up. They stayed like that for no more then five minutes, Harry's cock softening inside of her as they relaxed.

"I can't believe you're going to be my wife." Harry thought out loud. "Never thought I'd work up the courage."

"Why? You knew I'd say yes."

"I dunno, just all the what-if's got inside my head. You know how that is." Harry mumbled, nuzzling his face into the side of her neck. He kissed over her blooming hickeys too, soft contrast between his sexual and romantic desire for her.

"Well your next biggest concern is finding were to go for our honeymoon." Y/n said. "Might have to go all over."

"I'll pay for every penny of it."

"Most defiantly. You know I have expensive taste." Y/n joked. "The wedding is going to cost half a fortune on its own."

Harry smiled, kissing her cheek then her lips. "I'd spend all the money in the world to make you happy. I'd go broke to see you smile."

"Stop, you're going to make me cry again." She whispered, tears starting to form.

"I'll just kiss them away, my love." He sighed. "It's my job as your future husband."

[roosterforme]

How Do You Feel About the Parking Lot? (Rooster x Reader)

Part of The What If Collection of blurbs for Roo and Baby Girl. My masterlist. Banner by @mak-32

Warnings: language, drinking, angst, fluff

You were excited at first. Very excited. You showed off your ring to everyone and gushed over the fact that you were engaged. And while you were still wearing his mom's engagement ring, it was becoming obvious to Bradley that things were not quite as they should be.

"Hey," he said softly as he walked into the kitchen. It was exactly nine weeks ago that he'd proposed in the dining room and you'd happily accepted that ring that glittered on your finger right now. But tonight you just mumbled something at him without looking up from your computer where you sat at the island. It was nearly midnight on Friday, and he would have given anything for you to start planning this wedding with him. "Are you coming to bed soon? I thought we could talk about potential wedding dates."

"Oh," you replied without looking up at him. "I'm still putting this presentation together."

Bradley sighed. "Baby Girl, you've been working nonstop for weeks. I just want... a little bit of your time." He wanted a lot of things, actually. Like a long snuggle on the couch while you and he watched a movie, or a soak in the tub together. He'd love a blowjob or pinning your hands above your head while he slammed you into the bed. But mostly he'd love to plan his wedding to you, because more than anything, he wanted to get married this year. And it was already late September. 

You glanced up at him and adjusted your glasses. "How about tomorrow? I really need to get this done before my work trip."

"Sure," he whispered before pecking you on the cheek and heading off to climb into bed alone. 

But it only got worse from there. You worked all weekend. On Monday, you didn't come home until seven o'clock. Tuesday was eight o'clock. By Wednesday, he wasn't sure if you were even eating or sleeping any longer. And worse yet, you were leaving for Annapolis in a few days. Bradley wouldn't even see you for a week. Not that he really saw you now, he supposed. 

He ate a bowl of cereal for dinner before sinking down onto the couch with Tramp and a bottle of scotch. He turned on Real Housewives, but he wasn't really watching it. He took a sip, and it burned. But the next one didn't. And neither did the one after that. He started to feel better. But he'd stop when you got home. 

Another episode started, but it still wasn't holding his attention the way you would have, and that's when he realized it was once again seven o'clock, and you still weren't home. When his phone rang, he sloshed some of the alcohol onto his tee shirt reaching for it, and he was praying it was you calling to tell him you were on your way home. 

He pressed his lips together and then took a deep breath before he answered. "Hi, mom."

"Bradley! I haven't heard from the two of you in days! How's your lovely fiancée? And Tramp?"

The dog must have heard her voice through the phone, because he perked right up. But Bradley couldn't answer with anything other than a raspy, "Fine." 

The line went silent. "Are you sick? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, mom," he lied. "How are you? How's dad?"

"Well, I went to lunch with Brenda, and I got the scoop on all of her kids. And your dad needs hearing aids, but he keeps arguing with me about it. Maybe you can talk some sense into him, if he can even hear you."

"Okay," he replied, realizing the room had started spinning when he leaned back against the couch.

"Bradley, are you drunk?"

How could she possibly tell? His own wife-to-be couldn't seem to see what was going on, but Carole could tell by his voice from almost three thousand miles away. "I'm... fine, mom. I need to take Tramp for a walk. I love you and dad. Bye."

Then he ended the call, because he could feel tears in his eyes. And when you got home at nine, he was already asleep. 

-------------------------

You needed to go to happy hour with your boss and coworkers on Friday, but you really didn't want to. You'd been pulling twelve hour days, and you were so exhausted, you just wanted to climb into bed with Bradley and sleep until you left for Maryland on a Saturday night red eye flight. You also really needed to tell him that he had to lay off the wedding planning until you finished this work project. It was just a few months of all these extra hours, and you desperately wanted to be promoted. 

Your plan was to stop home quickly and change out of your uniform before heading back out with everyone to celebrate that fact that you were going to present your research at the Naval Academy. When you pulled into the driveway in your shitty, little red car, the Bronco was already there. But when you looked around the house for Bradley, you didn't immediately see him. But then you heard his voice through the open sliding glass door. He was sitting on the back patio in just his gym shorts with his back to the door and a half empty bottle of scotch set on his knee. 

His voice sounded miserable as he said, "I tried, mom. She just... doesn't seem to want to. I don't know what I did wrong." 

You froze in place. He had to be talking about you. Embarrassment and sadness filled you as you listened to what he said next. 

"I really wanted to get married this year."

You ran down the hallway to the bedroom as you fought off your tears. You had to get changed and go right now while you still could. In another week, you'd have a little more time to talk to him about the fact that you couldn't plan a wedding and get married in the next three months with your current schedule. 

You left the house again without talking to him, but he was still sitting on the patio on the phone. And when he dropped you off at the airport the following evening, he didn't seem to want to let you go as he whispered, "I love you, Sweetheart," and ran his thumb along your ring. 

"I love you too, Roo. I'll be home in a week, and then we can talk about maybe planning a wedding for next year?"

He swallowed hard and nodded. "If that's what you want."

---------------------------

When you landed in Maryland on Sunday morning, you were still exhausted and looking forward to crashing until your presentation on Monday. But Carole called you when you were at the baggage claim, and you knew you had to answer. A guilty feeling was about to eat you alive as you put on a bubbly voice and said, "Hi!"

"Have you arrived in Annapolis?" she asked straightaway, and you sighed because at least she didn't sound angry with you. 

"I did," you told her softly. "Still at the airport."

"Perfect," she replied. "I'll leave now, and I'll be there in less than fours hours, and we can go get lunch."

You were so stunned, you watched your bag go past without realizing you needed to pick it up. "You're going to drive up from Virginia?" you asked her slowly.

"Yes. I'm grabbing my keys right now. Bye, Goose! I'll be back later!" You listened to her call out to her husband, and then a few seconds later, you heard a door close and a car start. She was actually going to drive up here.

"Oh, okay," you muttered, pressing your lips together, embarrassed about where you'd left things with her son. "I'll... see you in a few hours."

You managed to take a short, restless nap while you waited for Carole to arrive. You changed into a simple dress and put on some makeup, but you didn't really feel any better until you met her at a restaurant in the city. She rushed down the sidewalk toward you with a bright smile on her face. "My sweet girl!" she called out, wrapping you up in a hug next to a few tables full of people enjoying their lunch outside. "It's been too long." She kissed your cheek and started to lead you inside. 

"Thanks for driving all the way up here," you told her, not bothering to fight the smile tugging your lips. She was absolute sunshine, and it was pointless to try to resist it. "You didn't have to do this."

"Nonsense," she said as the two of you made your way to a booth. "I wanted to see my future daughter-in-law."

You nodded and enjoyed some pleasant conversation. She told you all about Goose's appointment with an audiologist and about Brenda's kids. And after you finished your avocado toast and bowl of soup, she said, "Now, I think we should talk about what's really important."

Her voice wasn't unkind, and she was still smiling softly, but you knew what was coming as you whispered, "Okay."

Carole reached across the table and took your hand gently in hers. "I know you're smart and independent. And I also know that's part of why Bradley loves you so much. You don't need him. He's not offering you anything you can't get on your own or with someone else. You chose him, because you want him." Tears started to fill your eyes, and you had to swallow against the lump in your throat. "And he just wants you to be happy, so he would never tell you to your face that you're hurting him."

You tried to speak, but you just made a pathetic sound and started to sob. "I don't want to hurt him."

"I know you don't," she replied softly, squeezing your hand. "I know you're not trying to. But I think you need to tell him once and for all that you don't want to get married this year so he can finally get used to the idea of waiting a bit."

You buried your face in your free hand. Why were you trying to push it off anyway? It's not like you really cared where you got married or what the two of you were wearing. Planning some sort of huge celebration was not something you wanted to spend your time doing. You wanted to be with Bradley exactly as you were right now, just with two more rings and a certificate involved. 

When you looked up at Carole, you whispered, "I don't really think I actually want to wait. And I don't want you to hate me either."

"No," she gasped, standing and coming to sit next to your on your side of the booth. She kissed your tear streaked cheek and whispered, "I could never, my sweet darling girl. I think you just need to talk to Bradley, okay? Can you promise me you'll give him a few hours of your full attention? And maybe let him know how much he still means to you?"

"Yes," you croaked, and you let her hold you as you cried.

---------------------------

The week without you was kind of miserable. Bradley managed to dump the rest of the bottle of scotch at Carole's urging over the phone. And he did notice that she and Goose started calling with a bit more frequency which he didn't really mind. But the best part was that fact that you called him every night before you went to bed. 

Every time he answered your calls, his heart thundered in his chest. And as soon as he called you Sweetheart, he could practically hear you smiling through the phone. "I can't wait to pick you up on Friday," he said over and over. If he just felt like he mattered to you again, then he could wait until next year to get married. That was no big deal in the grand scheme of things.

But when he met you in baggage claim at San Diego International late on Friday night, he was so surprised, he could barely speak. You ran for him with a garment bag in your arms, but you let it fall to the floor when you reached him. "Roo," you moaned as soon as you were in his grasp. "I missed you so much." You kissed him deeply. "I just got off the phone with your mom again. And I didn't tell you before, but I went to see my friend Caleb a few days ago," you said as you smirked.

"The tattoo artist?" he asked as he kissed your cheek fifteen times. When you nodded he asked, "What's in the garment bag?"

"My wedding dress."

"Holy shit." He scooped it up off the floor and held it tight. "You bought a dress?" he asked, trying to hold you and the garment bag both to his chest at the same time.

"Yes," you told him matter-of-factly as you tugged him toward the exit while you kissed his lips. "How do you feel about getting married in the parking lot in two months?"

------------------------

[kamaluhkhan]

ours are the moments i play in the dark

pairing: conrad fisher x fem!reader

summary: you come back to cousins beach after a few years away. conrad is not particularly happy that you're back - and you aren't particularly thrilled, either. too bad there's a history (chemistry?) neither of you can deny.

warnings: ANGST (im so sorry in advance...); flashback is from conrad's POV and the rest is from reader's perspective; mentions of sex + losing virginities (nothing too detailed/graphic); reader has an ex who's referred to with gender neutral pronouns; reader and other characters drink alcohol (pomegranate margaritas ;) ); hints of alcoholism (reader's mother); jealous reader who's trying her best; pining conrad who's a bit of a jerk; reader and conrad fight A Lot (they will make up eventually i promise!!)

tags: @stargirlsirius-recs, @ifilwtmfc, @qwertyb2577, @allnrsnz, @baconeggndcheez, @peanutbelley, @imogen-skye, @geekinthefuschiahair, @tvije, @drikawinchester, @maybankslover, @junnniiieee07, @elcpsstuff, @fangirl-kimora, @redbierd, @starkeylover

a/n: thank you so much for all the love on my conrad series so far! i love these characters and writing their stories, and it means so much that others are enjoying reading my work. there is one more part left and i promise it will be happier so stay tuned :)) i haven't watched the last two episodes of season 2, but i'm planning on writing a bit for that, too!! thank you x infinity ♡

part one | part two

i lost a friend / like keys in a sofa / like a wallet in the backseat / like ice in the summer heat (finneas, "i lost a friend")

now — summer, age 18

“you know, you guys aren’t fooling anyone.”

“and what exactly do you mean by that, steven?” you challenge, taking another sip of your soda. 

it’s the fourth of july and susannah invited you over for her annual celebration. susannah always hosted fun parties, so you were more than happy to accept because it meant eating some good food, listening to an upbeat playlist, watching some fireworks, and just relaxing. essentially, susannah always delivered the best of summer, rolled into a carefully planned event. 

the sun was shining, and everyone was having a good time, including you — at least, until you saw conrad and nicole in the pool, engaging in some serious PDA. you immediately got out of the pool and went to sulk near the drink table, where you were happily alone until steven came over to join you.

“i’m just saying, man. you and con are definitely going out of your way to prove that you’re mad at each other,” steven explains. “but we all know how much you care about each other.”

steven is right about the first part: you and conrad had done your best to avoid each other since the incident at nicole’s party and its fallout. if you and jeremiah had planned to go surfing and he invited conrad, you would always back out at the last minute. if you were over at the fishers helping belly pick out an outfit for a date with cam, conrad would conveniently stay in his room. not to mention, any time the two of you did cross paths — which was rare, but jeremiah and belly were persistent in requesting that all five of you spend time together, like the old days, they would say — it resulted in meaningless, petty arguments. the two of you had always been competitive and very comfortable teasing each other, but the difference was that now, your interactions were no longer good-natured.

you thought steven, belly, and jeremiah hadn’t noticed, but you should have given them more credit. to anyone who knew you, it was pretty obvious that something was up between you and conrad, even if they didn’t know what exactly it was.

“there’s a thin line between love and hate. and right now you guys are that line.”

“thank you for your insight,” you say sarcastically. “be sure to include that in your college essay — i’m sure princeton would love to have you.”

steven rolls his eyes at you, just as nicole arrives at the drink table.

“hey guys,” she greets. she reaches over to grab two cans of peach iced tea before you stop her. 

“conrad’s allergic to peaches,” you say. “so you might wanna get him something else.”

nicole looks at you for a second before nodding and reaching for a can of sprite instead. 

“thanks,” she says as she walks away. 

once she’s gone, steven gives you a pointed look.

“what?” you scoff. 

steven just shakes his head. “love and hate,” he muses, leaving you to join his parents and shayla near the pool. 

you then decide to go inside briefly, where you find belly and jeremiah, pouring vodka into a blender.

“we’re making pomegranate margaritas!” belly exclaims, practically giddy. 

“well, you gotta use the good blender for that.” conrad seems to appear out of nowhere from behind you, instantly reaching for the aforementioned good blender and placing it on the counter.

you were already in a sour mood from seeing him with nicole earlier, but belly looks at you with hopeful eyes, and you remember what steven said earlier, so you mentally promise that you would play nice with conrad. you owe belly and the others that much after being absent for so long: a carefree summer, just like the ones you used to know. 

you imagine that jeremiah sent conrad a similar pleading look because, miraculously, you and conrad don’t argue with each other as you help mix pomegranate margaritas for everyone. you actually engage in playful banter and laugh at the other’s jokes. you even feel sorry for him when his father, who wasn’t supposed to be here, walks in. you can feel the good mood slipping, so you suggest heading to the beach for a change of scenery.

belly had invited cam and a few more girls who are doing the debutante thing with her, and with steven bringing shayla and conrad bringing nicole (which, you are totally fine with, of course, especially after a pomegranate margarita), you had a pretty solid party forming on the beach, away from the adults. 

of all people, belly suggests some drinking games. it’s all a blur of sand, laughter, and vodka spiked fruit juice. once you were all the perfect amount of tired and tipsy, the group settles down, and gigi suggests a different game.

“we should play truth or dare.”

“oh my gosh we should!” belly smiles, tapping your leg enthusiastically. “remember? we used to play it all the time!”

you smile back. “of course i do.” 

when you were kids, you, belly, steven, jeremiah, and conrad would play truth or dare any chance you got. it was never very serious, mostly goofy pranks and harmless questions. you had all grown up since then, and somewhere along the way, truth or dare had become less innocent than it used to be.

“y/n,” one of the debs — dara, if you remembered correctly — turns to you. it was the first time your name had been called, and in all honesty, you were perfectly happy just sitting back in the sun and sipping the rest of your drink. “truth or dare?” 

you choose truth, mostly to avoid having to get up from your very comfortable seat on the sand.

“are you a virgin?”

your mouth suddenly feels dry. you’re not ashamed of your answer, but it doesn’t help that you can see conrad glaring at you from the corner of your eye. you take another sip of your drink before answering. 

“um, not really.” 

“it’s yes or no question,” nicole says. 

“then my answer’s no,” you declare.

“what?” belly screeches. she sits up straighter to turn towards you, and in the process spills some pomegranate margarita on her dress. “i can’t believe you had sex and didn’t tell me? when? with who? what was it like?” her cheeks are slightly flushed. a sober belly would have likely asked you in private, or at the very least, not in front of people you barely knew. in that moment, you almost regret the pomegranate margaritas.

almost. because maybe it’s the silence and everyone’s expectant stares, or the adrenaline you feel from winning most of the drinking games, or the effects of the drinks themselves, but you convince yourself that it’s as good a time as any to tell the story. a sober you would have known to tread more carefully given the context; that would have been about three pomegranate margaritas ago, though. 

“it’s kind of a cliche story, honestly,” you start. “it happened last summer. it was raining that night, so we were hanging out in the back of my teammate’s van, just talking, and one thing led to another….we didn’t plan to do anything, but we got caught in the heat of the moment.” you choose your words carefully, deliberately avoiding eye contact with conrad.

“how was it though?” belly asks, leaning in closer.

you shrug. “a little awkward, i guess? neither of us had sex before then, and we were both figuring stuff out. like, he couldn’t open the condom wrapper because he was so flustered, so i had to help him. it was nice, though,” you admit. “when the rain cleared, we went out to stargaze and fell asleep on the beach.”

belly sighs. “so romantic.”

“you’re right about it being cliche,” steven laughs. he has an arm thrown around shayla, and uses the other to gesture towards conrad. “conrad, man, that sounds almost exactly like your first time.”

you feel your entire body heat up, and it's not because of the sun shining down on you. conrad’s gaze finally meets yours — for a split second only, but it’s enough for steven to notice. 

“holy shit! it all makes sense now!” steven exclaims, suddenly standing up.

jeremiah frowns, looking between you, conrad, and steven. “what makes sense?”

“i’ve been trying to figure out why y/n and conrad have been so weird around each other this summer, but it’s obvious now: they lost their virginities to each other. they had sex!”

nicole stiffens and narrows her eyes at conrad. “you told me you never hooked up with y/n.”

“well, that’s definitely not true.”

“belly,” you warn, looking over to conrad once more. his cheeks are turning red, and you imagine a storm brewing beneath his dark blue eyes. 

“i don’t know about last summer,” belly continues, completely oblivious to the tension building. “but i do know that they kissed at your party.”

“i knew it,” nicole scoffs, pushing away from conrad. “i knew it.” with one last poisonous glare towards conrad, she storms off.

conrad sends you an equally poisonous look before chasing after her. the party dissolves shortly after.

feeling defeated, you lie back in the sand, close your eyes, and let the sun shine down on you once more, taking deep breaths to slow down your heart rate.

call it karma or a cruel twist of fate or just a really shitty coincidence, but you’re finally the one left alone on the beach.

then — summer, age 17

conrad was more than a little surprised to see your name appear on his phone. it wasn't like you were completely off the grid — you texted, though infrequently, and followed each other on socials. he scrolled through his instagram feed and saw the occasional picture of you wearing a costume at a halloween party or sipping hot chocolate on a snowy day. photos that never quite fit the image he had of you in his mind: in cutoff denim shorts and a swimsuit and layers of sunscreen, with sand in your hair and popsicle stains on your lips.

“hey,” he answered after only three rings. 

"hey fisher, any friday night plans?"

he told you he was working on his college essay.

“homework on a friday night in the middle of summer,” you tsked. “i never realized how much of a nerd you are.”

conrad laughed. “i mean, that’s on you for just realizing that.”

 “fair enough,” you hummed, and conrad could practically hear your smile through the phone. “if you’re in the mood for something more fun, look out your window.”

conrad wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but you standing in the driveway of his summer house was pretty low on the list. you waved at him frantically, telling him to hurry up and open his window.

he was still in awe as you climbed through. conrad tried to memorize the image of you then and there, standing in front of him in his bedroom: wearing dolphin shorts and a light jacket, with chipped turquoise nail polish and a bright smile.

"you drove all the way here?" 

"well, they haven't cracked the science behind teleportation yet," you say playfully. "so i didn't have many options."

"i can't believe you're here," conrad smiled, and that’s when you finally hugged him. he held on tightly, afraid you would leave at any moment if he let go. you smelled the same, like chlorine and vanilla sugar.

once you broke away from the hug, you pointed towards something behind him, pinned to his bulletin board. conrad followed your gaze and felt his cheeks heat up.

“i missed you, too, connie,” you teased, eyes lingering on the newspaper clipping of your swim team making it to nationals thanks to your record time. 

“mom showed it to me,” he explained, the smile on your face making his heart beat out of his chest. “she’s so proud of her little mermaid.”

your smile fell, just a bit, but enough for conrad to notice a shift in your mood. you always did a good job at hiding the weight of the world on your shoulders, at least around the others. not so much around him.

you sighed and sat down on his bed. “you know, after that swim meet, my dad lectured me about not being fast enough,” you explained. “winning by only a millisecond apparently wasn’t enough to impress college scouts, at least according to him.”

“your dad’s a jerk,” conrad said instantly. he sat down next to you. “and an idiot, if he can’t see how amazing you are.”

“thanks, connie,” you whispered. it looked like you were going to say more; instead, you picked up his laptop. “wow, you weren’t kidding when you said you were working on your college essay. you really are a nerd.”

“shut up,” conrad laughed, nudging you with his shoulder and trying to grab the laptop from you.

you nudged him back. “it’s a compliment! schools go crazy for trust fund nerds.”

“yeah, yeah.” conrad waved you off. “so, you’re in cousins for the summer?”

all you did was smile softly and close the laptop, finally handing it back to him.

conrad’s heart burst with joy. because not only were you there — finally there, after all that time away — but you were staying. his mom would always muse about summers in cousins being magical, but conrad didn’t quite believe her until you were gone and he felt that magic fade away. 

“do you wanna go downstairs? belly’s watching it happened one night with my mom and laurel.”

“as much as i love susannah’s favourite movie,” you started, and conrad’s heart soared again at you remembering his mom’s favourite movie. “i thought maybe it could just be the two of us tonight? maybe we could go for a drive.”

that’s how the two of you ended up at mermaid grove — a secluded stretch of beach about an hour away from your houses. it was near the mall your mothers sometimes went to, and during one of those excursions when you were young, all the kids wandered off and found it. the only time you’d been there was during the day and with jeremiah, belly, steven, and your siblings, so it felt different then, at night with just the two of you.

it started raining on the drive over — which only took 45 minutes without traffic — so you were hanging out in the back of your van. the van actually belonged to one of your teammate’s cousin who was somewhat of a hippie, you said, which explained the smell of weed and bohemian decor — battery powered rainbow fairy lights, colourful pillows, an elaborately patterned tapestry. the space was definitely intimate, or maybe it felt that way because you and conrad were sitting as close as possible to each other, shoulders touching and one of your legs tangled with his. he was scrolling through the pictures on your phone of your last swim meet in california, where you'd gotten the chance to visit stanford, while you were peeling an orange. 

"you would love it there, connie,” you gushed. you dug your fingers into the orange peel, and the smell of citrus started to fill the air. “the beaches are beautiful and the waves are amazing. it’s like, always summer.” 

conrad sometimes felt like summer was the only season of the year that he was truly awake, truly living. everything else felt like a dream, one that he would always describe to you in mundane detail; conrad even kept a small journal throughout the year, writing things down that he needed to tell you once you reunited every june. but one journal had turned to two, almost three, and conrad was trying really hard to not resent you for that.

“anyways, i think i’m going to apply in the fall.”

conrad stopped scrolling through your phone, pausing at a picture you had taken of a lemon tree. “doesn’t your dad have princeton lined up?”

“you make it sound like he bought my way in, when it was actually hours and hours and hours of training to get that scholarship. on the national best swim team.” you mimicked your father’s patronising tone for that last part; conrad hadn’t seen him in years, and he could still recognize it. 

“you’re right, though. my dad would flip his shit. even if i got in with a scholarship, it’s so far away and i have the twins to look after, but a girl can dream, right?”

“i feel that,” conrad assured. you gave him a sad smile, knowing that his dad was as intense about football as yours was about swimming. the worst part was that you both loved your respective sports, until they became a burden. you both had other burdens to deal with, too, when it came to your families. 

“in an ideal world, the two of us wouldn’t have to worry about anything else. we’d live in a place by the beach, surf every day, and hang out in the sun while sipping ice-cold, fresh lemonade.” just like we used to, conrad added in his head.

“in an ideal world,” you agreed. “we’d also adopt four dogs, each named after one of the beatles. you can teach them how to play the guitar.”

conrad laughed. “if i couldn’t teach you, there is no way i can teach one dog, let alone four.”

“well, they wouldn’t get distracted by your dreamy blue eyes like i did.” you winked at conrad, and handed him the freshly peeled orange before he even had time to blush.

“take it,” he protested. “you drove all this way — you should eat something.”

you shook your head and placed the orange in his hand before you pulled out another fruit from your bag. “i picked some of these up on the way here — best peaches on the east coast.” you took a big bite. “remember the summer we found out that you had a mild peach allergy?” you asked, juice dripping down your chin. you wiped it with the sleeve of the varsity jacket you wore.

conrad laughed at the memory. belly and steven had brought back candy from their trip to toronto. conrad practically inhaled an entire bag of fuzzy peaches, and didn’t realize that they weren’t supposed to make your mouth itchy — the “fuzzy” part wasn’t literal. that felt like so long ago, but there you and conrad were, settling back into each other like no time had passed.

as the night grew darker, you and conrad shifted closer to each other. conrad ate orange slice after orange slice as you devoured your peach, all while looking through the photos on your phone. you’d occasionally interject with a short story or comment, and there were still raindrops falling on the roof, but for the most part, there was nothing but a comfortable silence between you. 

you moved to wrap the orange peel and peach pit in a napkin, just as conrad swiped onto a photo of someone kissing your cheek.

“who’s that?”

you leaned over to check. “oh. that’s sam.”

“are you dating?” conrad asked, trying to seem casual about it. just a friend asking another friend about their romantic situation. as a friend. 

“we were,” you explained, sitting back next to him. “they broke up with me a few months ago.”

conrad sighed in relief, which he hoped you didn’t notice. “sorry.”

you shrugged. “it’s fine. apparently i’m emotionally distant.”

that wasn’t much of a surprise to conrad. sam might have been an idiot for breaking up with you, but they were spot on with the emotionally distant part. out of all the time you’d known each other, conrad had only seen you cry once, maybe twice. you were usually the one wiping away tears and putting on a brave face, inadvertently, or maybe purposefully, hiding your own vulnerability. 

still, that wasn’t something conrad was about to stir up.

“what? you?” he joked instead.

“shut up,” you said, rolling your eyes, but the wry smile on your face gave you away. “how about you? broke any hearts this past year?”

conrad thought for a moment. there was aubrey, who his football teammate said had a major crush on him. they had been texting for a while now, and were on the edge of maybe becoming something. but then, there you were, stirring up feelings conrad had long buried — or, at least, tried to. if part of his head was always in summer, then part of his heart always belonged to you. 

“no.”

“got your heart broken?”

he thought back to a few weeks ago, when he ran into your mom at the grocery store, and she said you wouldn’t be coming to cousins again that summer. you hadn’t spoken at all to each other for a month or two before that.

“no,” he lied.

you hummed, and took your phone away from him. 

“wanna hear something trippy?” you asked suddenly. you always had a knack for changing the course of a conversation to where you wanted it to go.

“what?”

“well, since it takes a while for light from space to reach us, when we stargaze, we’re actually looking back in time. like, the star that’s closest to earth — other than the sun — is four light years away. or is it five?” you paused. “anyways, if the sky was clear and we could see that star, it would mean we’d actually be looking at that star from summer, five years ago.”

“very trippy,” conrad agreed. “it’s like a cosmic time machine.”

you hummed. “do you ever wonder what our past selves back then, at like 12 or 13, would think of us now? i think about those summers and how magical they felt.” 

magical. you turned to smile at him softly, and conrad couldn't help but agree.

“i always thought you’d be my first kiss,” you whispered. 

that threw conrad off guard, and it took him a few seconds to regain balance. the van suddenly felt too small and the lingering scent of fruit shared between you two, mixed with the familiar smell of chlorine and vanilla from how close you were sitting to him, became overwhelming. his heart was beating out of his chest — not because he didn’t feel the same way, but because he did.

conrad knew what his 13 year old self would think of him now: he’d be up in arms over his awkward pause, screaming to finally tell you how he felt then, and how those feelings hadn’t really left. how you made him feel safe, excited, confused and angry. how there was a space in his heart just for you, and it was painfully empty when you left, but now that you’re there again —

“sorry,” you said, cutting through the silence. you subtly shifted away from conrad. “i didn’t mean to make things weird.”

“you didn’t,” conrad answered instantly. he registered how you were now slightly hunched over and brought your knees to your chest, how you bit your lip and avoided eye contact — a few hints that you felt uncomfortable, deflated even at his lack of response. 

so, he moved closer to you and gently placed a hand on your knee. 

“you didn’t make things weird,” conrad assured once more. you were brave, he decided: for a lot of things you did, but right then for being so honest, so vulnerable. it inspired him to do the same. “i mean, this might make things weird, but i always thought you’d be my first…you know. at least, ever since i knew what sex even was.”

you finally turned towards him, your lips slightly parted. 

“yeah,” you breathed. “me too.”

conrad’s eyes flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes. 

“do you still want to —”

“yes. i - i mean, no pressure, but if you still want to —”

“i do.”

you smiled then and conrad felt himself do the same. 

when you kissed for the first time, it was like rainclouds parted and the stars came out, shining bright in infinite darkness. the two of you became tangled up in each other: you sat in his lap, legs on either side of his waist, your chests pressed together and your fingers tangled in his hair, which drove him crazy. conrad let his hands explore your body, gently grazing the skin under your shirt. his lips tingled from the remnants of peach juice on yours, but he kept kissing you. 

it was awkward and exhilarating at the same time. you asked each other if what you were doing felt good and right and were slightly embarrassed if the answer was no, but still adjusted if needed. at one point, conrad was fumbling with the condom wrapper and you had to open it with your teeth; he jokingly pointed out how you used to do the same with packs of sour patch kids and you giggled before kissing him again.

the two of you lay down on the floor once you were done. your head rested on conrad’s chest and he had his arm around you, idly tracing shapes on your skin with his fingertips. he craned his neck down to look at you.

even in the dim lighting and after years apart, you looked the same. even if you’d never been that close before, at least not in the same way you had just been, you felt familiar. 

you tilted you head towards him and smiled. 

“what?” 

there was something about the way you looked at him that still made him blush, and conrad hoped that with the lack of bright light, you wouldn’t notice. 

“sounds like the rain stopped,” he said. “wanna go stargazing?”

it was slightly chilly, so you let conrad borrow your varsity jacket, even if it didn’t fit perfectly. the sky was clear and full of stars. you spent the rest of the night there together, on the beach. 

in the morning, conrad woke up before you. he watched as you took slow, deep breaths with your eyes still closed. you looked so peaceful — until the sound of your alarm prompted you to wake up.

“shit,” you exhaled, your eyes wide once you noticed the sun had risen. “what time is it?” 

you searched frantically for your phone, only to find it right next to you.

“shit,” you repeated once you checked the time. you stood up right away, sand kicking from underneath your feet. “this is bad.”

“what —”

conrad didn’t have time to even ask you what was wrong because you bolted to the van. he followed you.

“what’s wrong?”

you looked at conrad, brows furrowed. “i have to go. i don’t want to leave you, but i have to go.”

“it’s okay,” conrad reassured. he stepped closer to you and placed a hand on your cheek. “i’ll be here when you get back.”

“i’m…” you step away from him. “i’m not coming back.”

“what do you mean?” he tried to steady his voice, but a dangerous mix of hurt and anger threatened to wash over him. conrad’s heart dropped, knowing all too well what was likely coming next, but he hoped, wished, that it wouldn’t be like before.

“i’ve got a swim meet in boston,” you exhaled. “but i can drive you home on my way there.”

“you’ll come back to cousins after,” conrad declared, as if saying it out could change what would happen next. “you said you’d be here for the summer.” 

you shrugged, stumbling over your words. “technically, i didn’t say that. you just assumed and — ”

“and you wanted me to believe it, right?”

you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “just — let me drive you home, connie.”

the use of his childhood nickname — the one he secretly despised, except when it came from you — was what made him snap.

“i should have known,” he snarled. “god, i should have known. you don’t care about me, about us. swimming over everything, right?”

“that’s not true.” your eyes opened, but you still wouldn’t meet his gaze. “i do care, but you know the pressure i’m under —”

“fine. you want to talk about pressure?” conrad laughed, bitterly, all his frustration bleeding out and pooling at your feet. “my mom had cancer, and you couldn’t even be there for me. texts and phone calls only do so much when you’re watching the woman who raised you wither away to nothing.”

your eyes softened slightly, finally looking at him. you took a step forward, but conrad took another two back. 

“conrad —”

 “no. don’t,” he snapped, making you stop. “why did you even come here?”

“i was close by and…” you paused. “i guess i just needed to come back, even just for a bit.” 

"figures," conrad scoffed. “you only care when it’s convenient.” 

“that’s not true,” you repeated. 

conrad waited a second for you say something more, but you didn’t. 

“well, i’m really glad you got what you needed,” he mocked. “tell me, does nostalgia and sex help you swim faster? impress college scouts? make daddy proud of you?” 

you stiffened slightly. “don’t be an asshole.”

“no, no. congratulations!” he clapped to emphasize his point. “i’m so glad i could help you! guess you just needed a quick fuck before your big competition for some good luck. hope it works out in your favour.”

there was so much venom laced in his words, and he could tell you noticed. you looked at him like he was a stranger. 

“fuck you,” you finally said. your voice was shaking slightly and it looked like tears were forming in your eyes. “you can walk home, for all i care.” 

without another word, you got into the car and drove away. conrad watched your car become smaller in the distance as he stood alone at the beach, wearing your jacket and replaying every word he said.

now 

it’s hours after susannah’s fourth of july celebration. the adrenaline and alcohol from early wore off, and you’re sitting on your front porch, sipping tea from your favourite mug. you were hoping to relax, but the sight of conrad fisher storming up to you threatens that.

“where do you get off, saying what you did earlier?” 

even under the low light of the porch, you can see that his face is red with anger. he came here to argue, but you’re too tired to really care.

“well, shit, conrad,” you sigh. “don’t blame me. blame — blame truth or dare and pomegranate margaritas and steven for being so goddamn perceptive.” 

“you lied,” he accuses, crossing his arms. “you said you didn’t tell belly about us kissing at nicole’s party.”

“at least i didn’t lie to my girlfriend,” you point out, your voice dull from exhaustion. conrad is momentarily at a loss for words, furrowing his brow even further, so you decide to steer the conversation in another direction — away. “look, i just had to pick up my drunk mother from the bar, so i’m really not in the mood for this conversation.”

you move to leave, but conrad grabs your left wrist before you reach the door. the sudden action startles you, and you release the mug you were holding in your right hand. it falls to the ground, the break clean, and the rest of your tea spills onto the porch. you exhale sharply, turning back to face conrad.

“i don’t care,” he snaps. “you fucked up earlier today. you never should have mentioned that night. talking about it like it actually meant something to you.”

“you know what, conrad? maybe it’s hard for you to believe, but that night actually meant something to me.” you laugh bitterly, feeling more awake than before. “and, yeah, now i’ve spent so much time regretting it. because maybe i hoped that we’d start dating, but even if that didn’t happen, i never expected to lose my best friend.”

conrad rolls his eyes. “i don’t know how you can stand there and call me your best friend. best friends don’t leave each other —”

“fine, i did leave,” you interrupt. your voice is slightly raised, and you can’t help but feel a new rush of adrenaline flowing through your veins. the fact that conrad is standing in front of you, suggesting that you were the one to blame for the hostility between you — that made you frustrated, angry, even. 

“i had other shit going on,” you continue. “and maybe i didn’t handle the situation well at first — that’s on me, sure. but i wasn’t the one who ignored texts and sent calls straight to voicemails. i’m not the one who’s spending the summer avoiding everyone who knows them because they’re too scared of others finding out the truth. i don’t know who you are this summer, but i know the real you, conrad.”

“no, you don’t.”

by now, you’ve walked closer, standing only a few inches in front of him. if you reached out, you’d be able to brush the bangs away from his forehead, but you don’t. 

“i do know you,” you assert. “in fact, i hate how much i know you. i know that “yesterday” by the beatles is your favourite song, and the first one you learned on the guitar. i know that you’re crazy good at chess, but let jeremiah win sometimes when your dad is watching. i know that you love playing football, but hate that you’re expected to play it. i know that i hurt you last year, so you had to ignore me because that was easier than admitting how you really feel because — because you’re scared.” 

“you’re wrong.” conrad stares at you, his gaze heavy on yours. 

you shake your head. “i know that you didn’t tell anyone about what happened between us because it meant something to you. and that really scares you, too.” 

“you’re…you’re wrong.” conrad’s voice wavers a bit, his eyes soften ever so slightly, and you know you’ve struck a chord. 

“i’m not,” you say. “and, honestly? i’m so fucking tired of waiting for you to realize that. i don’t care anymore. whatever was between us during all those summers, it's obviously not here anymore."

“you’re wrong,” he’s like a broken record, stuck on the same lyric. 

"stop blaming me for fucking this up," you continue. "it's your mess, too, conrad. and i’m so fucking tired."

it’s late, and it’s dark, and you can’t bring yourself to stay here anymore. without saying anything else, you step over the broken porcelain of your favourite mug and into your house, leaving conrad alone on your poorly lit porch.

when the sun rises and you go outside in the morning, the pieces are gone. 

[phoward89]

Jealous!Coryo x Reader, Odair!Ancestor x Reader.

Series Masterlist

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is a warning in and of itself. That man is a walking blood red flag waving heavily in the wind! engagement (not reader), smut, infidelity, love triangle, manipulation, stalking?, gaslighting, fluff, Head Gamemaker!Coryo, District 4 Cruise Ship Heir!Odair OC. Dark!Coriolanus, Jealous!Coriolanus, Dom!Coriolanus

This chapter has quite a few flashbacks in it since Coryo's going to be reflecting on his relationship with the reader. It's also a really long chapter.

Chapter 5:

When you suddenly quit your job, your boss was shocked. They had no idea that you’re seeking employment elsewhere or are currently unhappy being a part of the Odair Luxury Cruises marketing family. They even pleaded with you to stay; offered to talk to their superior to see if you could be given a raise.

You turned them down.

They can't get you the same amount of money that Coriolanus can. Plus, you don't need to worry about an office romance ruining your ability to work.

You know that Odysseus assumes that you're listening to him; taking a few personal health days, even tho you're not. You wonder if he'll find out that you quit your job at his father's company or if VPs don't find out that kind of information.

“You almost done with that application, darling?” Coriolanus asked as the two of you sat in his home office. He's lounging on his leather office sofa, clad in a low rise pair of sweatpants and a tight tank, with a coffee cup dangling in his hand. His icy blue eyes are glued to you as you sit at his mahogany desk, filling out your official application for your new job.

You already had the job, but you needed to submit an application so that he could approve it and get your onboarding process started.

“Almost, Coriolanus.” You answered while scrolling thru dates to find your birthday.

“You called me Coryo all night and now we're back to this Coriolanus shit? Even after I gave you a job that I view as a very detrimental one?” He asked incredulously while sipping on his coffee. His brows were knit, in fact he was angry with the desk for blocking the view of your legs. You're wearing one of his shirts, which falls mid-thigh on you due to his height, and in his opinion it showed off your legs perfectly.

“Last night was a fluke. A one time thing for old time's sake.” You told your ex while finishing up the application and hitting send. “Besides, you've got Livia to fuck now.” You rolled the chair slightly away from the desk and stood up. “Oh, you can go approve the application now.”

“I'm not fucking Livia.” Coriolanus was quick to tell you while placing his coffee mug on the coffee table. “And I'm not moving her in with me, so stop trying to push me onto her as a way to avoid things between us.” He added, getting up from the sofa.

“There’s nothing between us, Coriolanus.” You tell him, crossing the room to the sofa.

“That's bullshit and you know it, darling.” Coriolanus spat, striding over and meeting you halfway between the leather sofa and his desk. Taking your upper arms in his large hands, he told you with such conviction, “We have so much between us. So many years and fondness between us that it's foolish of you to act like we're mere ships passing in the night when we're so much more than that.”

Patting him in the middle of the chest, you stated, “That charm of yours paired with your elegant words should give you a leg up on your opponents.” But with his silver tongue why was he at the bottom of the race? That irked you. So much so, that you told him, “I'll just have to go shift thru polls and surveys to see what the exact problem is; why you're so low ranking.”

Coriolanus' baby blues searched your eyes studiously, as if he was trying to find the solution to a riddle. Slightly shaking his head, causing his unkempt platinum curls to rustle around, he asked, moreso to himself then to you, “Why're you acting like this towards me? I thought that you love me?”

“Acting like what, Coriolanus? Like your assistant, your PR liaison, your campaign manager?” You sarcastically asked, only to sassily inform him of the simple fact that: “I’m getting a headstart on my job, Head Gamemaker Snow.” Looking over his shoulder instead of in his overwhelming beautiful baby blue eyes, you mustered up every ounce of dishonesty that you could dig out of your sweet soul and told the self preserving lie of, “Loved you, as in the past, Coriolanus. I've moved on and discovered that you're not the type of man to love or deserve it; that I just confused care and a long-term friendship as something more.”

Coriolanus tilted his head, brow raised, as he tightly smiled to mask his disappointment in your dishonesty. “My darling rose, I thought we’d never lie to each other.” His baritone was like a sharp drawn bow string, ready to snap.

The curly haired platinum blonde's call out on your lie shook you to your core. How the hell does he know you're lying? Is he that pompous, conceited, self-centered, and arrogant, or was he truly in tune with your thoughts and feelings?

Deciding that you needed to get away from the imposing golden angelic devil of a man before you cracked, you excused yourself with, “I'll let you get on with reviewing my application and beginning the hiring process. I need to get home and relax.”

“I’ll call both the salon and spa you're a regular at; let them know to expect you later today and to just send me the bill.” Coriolanus told you as you made your way to the door of his office.

Looking over your shoulder, you thanked him with, “Thank you, Coriolanus. I’ll pay you back when I can.”

“No need.” Coriolanus waved his hand dismissively. With a thin lipped smile, he gestured towards the door and told you, “Just go relax and get dolled up to be my right-hand girl.”

You nodded, a silent show of understanding, before opening the study door and walking out of the room; leaving the regal blonde all alone to process your application.

Coriolanus Snow was not a man that was easily impressed, but your resume impressed him. It truly did. He knew that you'd be the perfect fit for running his campaign, being his PR spokesperson, and his assistant. But seeing your academic and career achievements in black and white just proved he was right.

And his benefactor Strabo Plinth told Coriolanus to either keep you holed up in a nice, but remote part of the luxury district (District 1) in one of the Capitol owned and operated spa/lodges as his mistress; he could visit from time to time, or to just toss you to the curb. Mr. Plinth felt that you had no value to Coriolanus' politician ambitions, unlike Livia Cardew, since you couldn't offer him anything *cough* money and status *cough*.

But despite Strabo Plinth's advice, Coriolanus didn't do either. Instead, after shoving his way into your life again after missing out on a month of it, he made you the most powerful person in his Senate campaign. He didn't even bother looking at the list of potential political advisors and campaign managers that Strabo had sent him.

No.

He chose you because he trusts you; knows that you'll help him win because you understand how important winning the Senate seat is to him. You've known each other since the days you were huddled together in the basement, waiting for the bombs to pass, as small children. You grew up alongside him as his best friend, his first crush- and daresay his first love?

You know that Coriolanus’ dream ever since you were little was to become the President of Panem. So, he knows that you'll do everything possible in your power to help him achieve that goal. First step is helping him become Senator Snow.

Coriolanus can't help, but to have memories of the two of you dancing around his head. Memories that make his engagement to Livia Cardew taste like bitter ash in his mouth.

You & Coriolanus age 7:

The war was still raging on. It's in its second year and things are getting worse instead of better. Capitol City, Panem, was under siege. It's a war zone with crumbling buildings due to bombs, the stench of death due to a variety of reasons, sickness and disease, and hunger.

Widespread hunger due to the Capitol being cut off from any and all supply chains.

But, despite this, all the school age children were still being shuffled off to the Academy (where the elite went) or charter schools to learn. Even tho the country’s at war and the District Rebels are trying to starve out the Capitol the children must still be properly educated.

Capitolite children are the future of Panem; President Ravenstill believes that they must be highly educated. Or at least that's the advice that's he's given by the Head of the War Department, one Dr. Volumnia Gaul.

One morning you're heading to school with your best friend, Coryo, and his cousin, Tigress. They're both blondes, but Coryo's 7 like you while Tigris is 10 or maybe 11- you forgot. But all 3 of you attend the Academy. Your older brother, Rein, attends the Academy too. In fact he's walking with Tigris behind you and Coryo, keeping an eye out on you two.

Coryo's holding your hand as the two of you navigate the rubble on the sidewalks. Sometimes it's so bad that you're forced to walk in the middle of the street. But streets aren't busy with traffic and cars like before the war- no, now cars are sitting idle because there's no more fuel to power them due to shortages from the siege.

Everything seems like a normal morning, or at least as normal as one can be while in the middle of a warzone, when suddenly the loud sound of sirens went off.

An air raid warning.

Bomber hovercrafts have been spotted; they are headed straight towards the Capitol.

Quickly, everyone ran to the nearest bomb shelter, being basements in buildings throughout the city. Your little ragtag group was no different.

Coryo held your hand tightly while running towards the building a few other people were going into. Rein and Tigris are quick on your tail. Coryo's long legs made him speedy and if his hand wasn't holding yours with a death grip then you'd be left behind.

But he'll never do that to you. No, he'll never leave you. That little boy with the light golden curls loves you; you're his best friend and he's determined to keep you safe. Which is why he's running and dragging you along to the nearest basement bomb shelter to ride out the incoming air raid that'll start any minute now.

Looking up into the sky, you cry, “Coryo, look the bombs are coming!”, as the bomber hovercrafts are in sight.

“Run, Y/N, the shelter’s up ahead!” Coryo screams back at you while making a mad dash to the shelter.

“Go into the shelter, now!” Your brother, Rein, orders in a loud shout. He and Tigris are right behind you and Coryo.

Coryo pushes open a side door to a building and runs downstairs, never letting go of your hand. Rein quickly pushes Tigris forward, thru the door before entering himself. And while your bestfriend leads you into the basement, where other Capitolites are hunkered down, the ground begins to shake and loud booms echo into the air.

It's the bombs.

You, Coryo, Tigris, and Rein made it inside of the shelter just in time.

But the force of the bombing makes walking down the basement stairs hard. Coryo never lets go of your hand, no even when you reach the basement. In fact, he sits huddled with you against the wall.

“We’re safe, Y/N. I got us here; I'll always keep you safe too because you're my best friend.” The boy with the light blonde curls and crystal clear blue eyes tells you while holding onto you for dear life.

Tigris is sitting next to Coryo while Rein's next to you. But your brother's not paying you and mind. No, instead he's talking to some girl next to him. Maybe he knows her from school?

But Coryo's hugging you close, determined to keep you safe and make you feel less afraid despite the fact that he too is scared of the bombs; of the unknown this war's bringing about.

You & Coriolanus Age 13:

The war’s been over for 5 years now, but the Capitol's still a heap of rubble. Sadly, the Districts are in worse shape. That's saying a lot about how destructive the war has been.

But buildings crumbling down and crops burning up wasn't the only damage left by the war. Your family was left damaged by the death of your father, Colonel Javanis Halvir, 5 years ago. He died in the woods right outside of 12, killed by rebels. Your dad died alongside his comrade, General Crassus Snow- Coriolanus’ father.

So, you both lost your father's; the main breadwinners of your families. While Coriolanus was orphaned and left with his Grandma’am and cousin, you had your mother and older brother. But, honestly, your families had similar dynamics.

If it wasn't for the neighbor, Pluribus Bell, then both the Snow and the Halvir families would've starved to death. The former nightclub owner was a part of the black market; would often help both Coryo's and your family with acquiring much needed items or a case of lima beans.

Currently, you're sitting with Coryo in his Grandma’am's rooftop garden on a late Saturday afternoon in May.

During the war Grandma'am Snow started growing cabbages to feed her family; she shared them with yours because your father, Colonel Javanis Halvir, was serving under her son, General Crassus Snow, in District 12 where her son was the Commander. Even now, 5 years after the war, cabbages are still being grown and shared by the Snows. Something that you're grateful for even if you're tired of eating cabbage a thousand ways.

According to Coryo his Grandma'am always had the garden. Ever since he could remember, she's been growing roses on the rooftop. He even shared with her that his mom used to spend a lot of time in the garden with him, singing to him and tending to the Grandma’am's roses.

You envy your best friend for having small memories of his mother. You wish that you could remember your dad, but no matter how hard you try, you can't. Everything comes in little bits and pieces, just broken fragments.

Anyways…

Grandma'am Snow grows roses in every color imaginable. The flowers are truly beautiful. Breathtakingly so.

Coryo is as much of a botanist as Grandma'am. You told him as much after he explained everything he knew about pruning, planting, and caring for the delicate flowers.

“When I become President I'm going to create such beautiful rose gardens that the gardens of the Presidential Palace will be the envy of everyone in Panem let alone the Capitol.” The blonde boy, whose platinum curls fell around his head like a messy halo, smiles as he daydreams of the future.

“Are you going to tend the gardens? As President wouldn't you be too busy to prune roses?” You ask, curious to what Coryo's answer would be.

Your best friend always has the ‘perfect’ answer for everything. His words are always so charming; sounding so right.

“Well, then I'll just have to teach you how to care for the roses. As my First Lady you'll be able to tend to the gardens when I'm too busy to do so.”

He's been telling you for the last 4 years that he's going to make you his First Lady. You know it's impossible; that a best friend can't become First Lady. The First Lady's always married to the President. But after arguing over it a few times, you just ignore him when he talks about you being his First Lady; helping him in the Presidential Palace.

“So would I be your gardener or the First Lady, Coryo? Considering I’d be tending to every rose garden on the Presidential Palace grounds.”

Knocking his shoulder into yours, Coryo give you a lopsided grin. “We'll hire gardeners; you'll be my First Lady. Botany will be our hobby outside of politics.”

“If you say so.” You lightly laugh, shaking your head.

“I know so.” Your best friend firmly states. Rising and holding his hand out for you to take, so he can pull you up off the stone bench you're sitting on, Coryo says, “Come on, you can help me with Grandma'am’s roses.”

You and Coriolanus Age 18 (a month before the games):

It’s dark in Coryo's bedroom, the only light being from the moon. It softly shines thru the window, but it's not bright enough to illuminate the room. No, the room’s too big for that.

But you're used to the darkness of Coryo's room. You spent a few nights a week with him; been doing so ever since the two of you started messing around 3 years ago. At first you tried to sneak back downstairs to your own apartment, on the 8th floor, but the platinum blonde with the soft halo of curls and bright blue eyes would always stop you- he always insisted that you just stay with him.

After a few times of trying and failing to leave, you decided to just stop your feeble, useless attempts to leave. To just stay the night with Coryo, snuggled with him in bed.

You're literally laying on top of Coryo, since his bed’s a twin that barely fits him, and his arms are wrapped around you. You're resting your head on his chest, absentmindedly tracing shapes on his it with your index finger.

“When I win the Plinth Prize next month I'll make sure that you have every luxury you deserve, darling.” Coryo promised, ghosting his fingertips up and down your spine.

“No, Coryo.” You shook your head. His family needed the money, not you. “You need to use that money to pay for University and to fix up your penthouse; you can't use it on me.”

“I'm going to do those things, but I’m also going to take care of you too. I promised to do so when we were children and I've never broken my word.”

“You also promised to protect me. Make me your First Lady too.” You dryly remind him of long ago childish promises. Promises that you don't expect him to keep.

But secretly you hope he keeps the promises he made because within these last 3 years you've been messing around with Coryo you've started to develop deep feelings for him. Feelings you hope he reciprocates, but are to afraid to ask about.

“I'll always protect you, darling.” He assured you. “And you're going to be my First Lady. Just you wait and see.”

“There's only one way for me to become your First Lady…” You mutter under your breath.

“Trust me, everything's going to work out.” He sweetly says while tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Softly stroking your cheek with his knuckles, he declares with such vigor and confidence, “In a few short weeks I'll win the Plinth Prize, we'll be able to attend the best damn University in Panem and then we'll become President Snow and the First Lady Y/N.”

You and Coriolanus 18 almost 19 (Day Coryo returns to the Capitol from District 12)

You knew that Coryo had left PK Base D-12 because your brother, Rein, told you when he called the other day. He said that ‘Snow’s been accepted to some Elite Officer's program, so he's gone. Also, your friend Plinth died- hanged as a traitor.’ before asking you about how you're doing. You told Rein that you're fine. You didn't tell him how you're trying to find a job in order to pay the portion of the University tuition fee that's due before the semester starts.

Your older brother’s a peacekeeper, an officer in District 12, and has a girlfriend. You can't let.him know about the struggles you and your mother are going thru. Not when he's found someone; is considering starting a life with them too. You know full well that your brother will send his entire paycheck, even take out a Capitol United Bank loan to cover your University expenses if you tell him the truth. And you can't have that.

You wonder what base Coryo was transferred to for his Elite Officer's training. You also wonder what branch he'll be picking to serve in: Air Force or Navy. You know that you can't send him a letter until you get one first, but that doesn't stop you from beginning to write to him.

You and Coryo exchange countless letters. And he tells you that he misses the Capitol, his family, and most of all you in every single one. A part of you melts at his words, but another part of you can't help, but feel that maybe he's just saying what you want to hear. You're not stupid, you're almost positive that he must've used what little money he had to bribe his way into service in District 12 because that's where she is.

His songbird; his victor.

Lucy Gray Baird.

You knew when you saw Coryo stand up and lurch forward at the Reaping Ceremony in Heavensbee Hall once the beautiful girl with big soulful brown eyes, soft raven waves, and a rainbow dress full of frills, that your best friend and sometimes lover was a goner. That he was enchanted by her, that he was going to fall in love with her.

And that instantly broke your heart. You love him and it hurt knowing that your Coryo was no longer yours, but would end up belonging to somebody else.

Someone more beautiful than you.

And when you heard Lucy Gray Baird sing, well, you couldn't fault him for falling in love with her. No, not when you knew singing was something that soothed his soul; reminded him of his mother.

You never sang around him and he never asked you too. You took music as an elective, but he didn't, so he didn't know that you could carry a tune. He never asked; you never told.

And you'll be keeping that a secret until you die now. No need to ever let him know that you like music, can sing decently.

No, not when he's enchanted by a songbird. Not when he's falling for her after just seeing her sing on tv.

You can't help, but wonder if Coryo took his songbird to wherever he was transferred too for his Elite Officer's training. You know for a fact that officers are allowed to have women. They can live with a girlfriend, fiance, or wife. It's a reward for their values service to the Capitol.

Just the thought of Coryo living with Lucy Gray breaks your heart. If he's with her, he won't have any time to write you, will he?

No.

Probably not.

Your mother's out on a ‘date’ tonight, so you're home alone. You're sitting on the sofa, writing to Coryo when a loud knock sounds at your door. Curiously, you rise and go over to the door. And when you answer it, you find yourself standing right in front of Coryo.

He's in his dress uniform, just staring at you as if he blinks you'll disappear. Before you can even ask him how it's possible that he's standing in your doorway, he places his hands on either side of your face and hungrily kisses you. Taking your breath away.

You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him back. The kiss is all teeth clashing and frantic lips smashing together. You're both desperate for the other.

When he pulls away, letting you two catch your breaths, he presses his forehead against yours- causing his grey uniform hat to tip up a bit- and reveals in a near whisper, “I've missed you so much, my darling rose.”

Your heart was beating wildly against your ribcage upon hearing his admission. It made you happy to hear that he misses you. That as soon as he saw you, he had to kiss you.

And all you could say back was, “I missed you too.”

Peering into the apartment behind you, he asked, “You alone?”

“Yes.” You nod.

“Then let's show each other how much we missed one another, shall we?” Coryo suggested, only to sling you over his shoulder and walk inside of your apartment.

After slamming the door shut with his boot, he ran to your room, causing you to giggle and playfully smack his ass. He just chuckled and gave your ass a sharp smack before tossing you on your bed and descending on you like a touch starved man.

Your kisses were heated and sloppy. Clothes were quickly shed and flung all over the room as the two of you kissed and touched each other feverishly on your sorry excuse for a bed.

And then the platinum blonde, whose curls were replaced with a close shaved buzzcut, left a trail of open mouth kisses from your jaw, down your neck, to the valley on your breast, all the way down your stomach before stopping at the apex of your thighs. His icy eyes were smoldering with lust as the pushed your thighs open. He kissed the inside of one and then the other before bringing his face down into your cunt. His nose nuzzled your clit as he licked stripe after stripe along your wet slit. A man thirsty with an unquenchable need for your pussy sweet nectar, Cory messily lapped up your cunt.

Your whines and mewls spurred him on, but he knew that he wouldn't last long (due to a lack of sex since, believe it or not, Lucy Gray was a bit of a tease when it came to fucking him) and he needed to feel your pussy clenching his cock, cumming around him before he loses himself and cums. So, before you can cum, he lifts his head up.

“I need to be inside your cunt, baby. I need to feel you cum around me.” He told you, spreading his precum around his large cock and giving it a few pumps before lining it up at your dripping wet hole.

“I need you inside me too, Coryo. It's been too long.” You tell him, holding onto his shoulders to brace yourself as he slides into you.

It's a big stretch with a slight burn, since you haven't been fucked all summer, but the slight pain passes and you feel nothing, but the pleasure of being full to the hilt as Coryo bottoms out.

“Fuck, babygirl, your cunt's so tight; feels so good around my cock.” Coryo groans, resting his head against yours as he gives you a moment to adjust to his 8 inches that's buried so deep inside of you that the outline of his cock is seen in your lower stomach.

“Please, Coryo. Move, fuck me.” You beg, your voice a high pitched whine, as you tilts your hips upwards towards his in an attempt to get him moving.

Coryo lifted his head up and leaned back on his haunches, only to pull his cock nearly all the way out only to quickly slam it back inside of your neglected, hungry, drooling pussy. He repeated his actions over and over again until you're a babbling, cockdrunk mess.

And him, well, he's pussydrunk and talking dirty. Oh God, he's saying the most absolute filthy things and it's going straight to your core. Making your eyelashes flutter and your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“I'm gonna fuck this cunt til you're begging mercy, til you pass out tonight from being over fucked.”

The sounds of skin slappy skin loudly and lewdly echoed throughout your bedroom.

“Fuck…I forgot how tight and perfect your pussy feels ‘round my cock.” Coryo groans, his head thrown back in pleasure as he pounds your pussy. “Your cunt's my cunt. I own this cunt, it's mine.” He told you with a possessive edge in his baritone. “Say it. Say your cunt’s mine. Mine!” He loudly orders, gritting his teeth as he feels you begin to clench around his cock.

Your head's spinning and your feeling the damn of pleasure beginning to burst as you babble out in a whine, “My cunt's yours, Coryo. All yours.”

His dogtags are jiggling against the hollow of your neck with every fast thrust your best friend makes. You're about to cum and don't even think as you grab the dogtags and yank on them, pulling Coryo flush against you. His mouth his mere inches against yours as you cry out, “I'm gonna cum, Coryo.”

“Cum right now, for me. Cum right now like my good girl, my good little slut.” Coryo demanded as he began to slam into your cunt even harder.

You don't know if it's his words or his fast movements, but suddenly your cumming and he's swallowing up your moans with eager, desperate kisses.

And when you're down riding out the wave of your orgasm, Coryo pulls his lips from his and tells you in a deep, lustful tone, “I’m gonna fuck you full of my babies. I'm gonna cum so hard in you; knock you up and baby trap you with me, darling.” A smirk crosses his face as he cum heavy balls smacked hard against your pussy. “You want that, huh? For me to knock ya up, tie your slutty ass to me forever.” His lips nibbled under your jawline as he declared, “You're gonna look so beautiful full and round of my child.”

“Yea.” You simply say. You honestly couldn't say anything else. Your brain’s been fucked to mush right now.

Coryo buries his neck into the crook of your neck as he slams hard and harder into you. His fingers are digging into your hips with a bruising; possessive force. And it only took a few more moments before his thrusts grew ragged and sloppy. One, two, three more thrusts and he was moaning your name like a prayer while shooting thick, hot ropes of cum deep inside of your cunt.

A cunt that he claimed was his.

He collapsed on top of you, panting wildly as he deeply inhaled your scent. Oh, how Coryo missed the way you smelled. It was always pleasant, like spring flowers.

And, honestly, you missed the way that he smelled. Even being thousands of miles away in 12 did nothing to dapper his scent of roses. You concluded that it must be his cologne.

Coryo felt the need to cockwarm you after being away from the warmth of your pussy for so long and you let him. He rested his head against your chest and you just scratch his scalp with your nails. You're both content.

“Y/N, baby.” Coryo said, as a way to gain your undivided attention.

“Yea, Coryo.” You reply, letting him know that you're listening.

“I was supposed to go to District 2 for an Elite Officer's training program, but instead I was sent here, to the Capitol, to have a meeting with Dr. Gaul. She said that my brilliant mind and talents would be a waste in the Peacekeepers, so she arranged for me to be honorably discharged by President Ravenstill. She also told me that Strabo Plinth's going to pay for my University tuition as a thank you for being best friend with Sejanus.” Was the lengthy explanation to his return that Coryo gave you.

An explanation that was a bit much to digest. But you digested it, nevertheless.

“That's good, Coryo. I'm happy for you.” You say, feeling both happy and sad at the same time. Oh, yes, you're happy that Coryo's getting the chance to follow his dreams, but sad because you're not sure that you can follow yours. That you'll be attending University soon with him.

“I'm meeting with Strabo tomorrow; I'll tell him to pay for your tuition too.”

WHAT?! HES WHAT!? WHAT THE HELL?!...

“Coryo, you don't have to do that. I'll figure something out.” You told him, letting him know that you didn't need him trying to get one of the richest men in the city to pity you.

“Of course I have to do it, darling. I promised to take care of you and to pay your tuition; I intend to keep that promise.”

“You also promised to make me your First Lady.” You mumble under your breath.

Playfulling nibbling your neck, the platinum blonde told you, “I heard that, baby.” Lifting his head, he locked his icy blues eyes onto yours and swore in a firm, unmoving tone, “And you'll be my First Lady. I promise, Y/N.”

You & Coriolanus Age 20:

Something happened during his time away in 12 that changed Coryo. He's always been a stoic, studious man, but now there was something different about him. Your best friend seemed colder now. As if he locked a piece of his soul up in a chest, just like Davey Jones has his heart locked up in a chest.

Dead Man's Chest.

Other than the night you spent when he first came home, Coryo never showed you affection anymore. Yes, he touched you and held you, etc, but there didn't seem to be much warmth in his actions. There wasn't any love in it. Or at least to you it didn't feel like there was any love and affection behind his touches.

But, he does walk you to your various classes at the University and drags you to lunch with the group of ‘it’ kids. The heirs to Panem's riches, the people that he needs to run elbows with to get ahead in life.

You know how to act around rich kids. You've been playing chameleon for so many years now around these snotty assholes that you know what to and what not to say. What silverware to use, how to daintily sip on your water glass, and how to cut your food into small pieces to take small, precise bites to make you look like a proper Capitolite young lady.

One afternoon Coryo wasn't waiting for you outside of your class, so you figured that he wasn't showing and decided to head towards the courtyard. Hey, if he's not here then you might as well just go sit in the early spring sun that's begun to melt the snow.

Coryo's the only reason you eat lunch in the mess hall. If you don't have to be around Festus Creed, Persephone Price, Livia Cardew, Clemensia Dovecote, and Hilarious Heavensbee, then you're not going to be around them. Well, you have nothing against Clemmie or Hilarious, it's the first three jackasses that you can't stand.

And the fact that Coryo's ‘beat friends’ with Festus now makes your skin crawl. Only God knows what those two are getting up to when they're hanging out. Probably getting shit faced at the club and fucking high priced hookers in excluse VIP rooms or something.

But it's not like you have a say so in the matter. You and Coryo are- well, you hook up and he keeps you hanging on to false hopes that he's going to make you his permanent girl; make the two of you public and exclusive.

You should really wash your hands of him and move on. Perhaps listen to your mother and take up one of the offers of marriage you've been approached with by some rich men. Your mother was very upset that you turned down General Prometheus Byzantine when he came by for dinner last night with a marriage brokerage proposal.

General Byzantine said that his friend, Mr. Strabo Plinth, had told him that you're a lovely and intelligent girl who's of age. That despite being raised in the Capitol, you were born in District 12 in PK Base D-12’s Hospital; that you're half-Capitolite and half-District, but would make him a lovely wife. Especially when he's needed on PK Base D-2 to inspect how the current Commander's doing their job. Plus, he also said how he wanted a young wife that would be able to keep up with his young son, who was nearly 5.

You turned him down in 2.5 seconds flat. General Byzantine swore up and down that I'd be sorry for turning him down. That Strabo would hear about your refusal; that one day he'd have you.

Your mother was so distraught that you threw away such a great opportunity all because you have some sentimental feeling for the Snow boy. Your mother hates Coryo, so you're not surprised she blames him for you turning down the general.

Honestly, maybe she's right. Maybe you won't let yourself fancy the idea of settling down with anyone because you're holding out for him. Waiting for him to keep a silly promise he made to you.

You're in an alcove, almost to the courtyard, whenever the sound of running paired with a shout of, “Y/N, wait!”, loudly echoes in the air. Stopping and turning around, you see Coryo rushing towards you. “I'm sorry I wasn't there to get you, darling. My professor went over his lecture time; I was stuck listening to him answer questions asked by the most idiotic pupils I've ever had the displeasure of sharing a class with.” The platinum blonde, who now wears his curls styled in a slick back hairdo, explained as he reached your side.

“That's okay.” You smile, but it doesn't quite reach your eyes. “I figured you got tied up and decided to just go sit in the courtyard.”

“I know, that's why I ran all the way here to find you.”

“What? You knew I'd be in the courtyard and not the mess hall?” You asked in disbelief.

“I know you like the back of my hand” He nonchalantly shrugs. Taking your hand in his, he suggests, “Why don't we go sit in the courtyard and while we're basking in the sun on this fine spring day you can tell me all about the dress my cousin's making you for the upcoming Spring Ball.”

“Okay.” You nod, only to hold Coryo's hand and let him lead you to the courtyard. All the while gushing about the dress.

The dress that Tigris helped you come up with is light pink with white roses embroidered all over it with a sweetheart neckline and an A-line skirt. Tigris says that she'll get you white shoes and a white clutch to pair with it.

Upon hearing you tell him the color/pattern of the dress, Coryo feels a sense of pride. He also feels an obsessive sense of possession over you as well.

Giving you a huge, Cheshire cat like grin , the platinum blonde tells you, “I can't wait to see you in it, my darling rose.” His icy eyes twinkle slightly as he adds in, “I'll be sure to wear white and provide us with white roses.”

“You don't have to give me roses, Coryo. Not every girl wears a corsage to balls and galas nowadays you know.”

“Yea, I know, but those girls aren't you. They're not mine, so I'll keep providing you with roses and you'll keep wearing them.”

You and Coryo Age 22:

“Are you excited for graduation, darling.?” Coryo asks as your walking down the Capitol streets, heading back to the Corso after eating dinner at a nearby, but expensive, restaurant. Coryo took you out to celebrate passing your exams. To celebrate that he's the top of the class and that you're his right hand girl in the second spot.

He had told you that Snow lands on top with the winter rose standing tall in the snow. The little joke was silly, but it was a metaphor for how he was always number one and how you were always right by his side as number 2.

“Yes.” You nod, smiling wide. “I'm so excited to get that diploma in my hand and just, I dunno, get started living my life.”

“I understand how you feel, Y/N.” Coryo told you, running his thumb over your knuckles as he holds your hand. “I can't wait to take my place as the Head Gamemaker.”

“Didn't you get offered the position because Dr. Gaul got eaten by her electric eels after falling into their tank?”

“Yes, but she was already implementing all of my ideas; I was working as an Assistant Gamemaker too.” He explained, causing you to just nod and let out a hmm. “Do you want to be an Assistant Gamemaker? I could get you a position and-” Coryo began, only for you to cut him off.

You never heard what he wanted to tell you since you cut him off with your own news of, “I applied for a marketing job at Odair's Luxury Cruises; I got the job so I'll be working there.”

Coryo's eyes narrowed slightly and turned colder than ice. “I see.” He curly said, his nose turned up a bit, as his thumb stopped tracing your knuckles.

Well, if you didn't want to be by his side professionally then so be it. You can work for some cruise line that specializes in island cruises off of 4.

But he'll still have you in his bed. He's not giving up fucking you. Hell no, Coryo's going to fuck you until the day you die.

Fine, you don't need his help with a job, but you'll always need his help to cum. And he knows for a fact that he's ruined you, that you struggle to cum on your own fingers because of how good he fucks you- with his fingers, tongue, and cock.

Something in a store window caught your eye. It was a ring. It was a diamond ring in the shape of a snowflake. You didn't tell Coryo about it, fearing that he'd think you're trying to make him settle down and commit to you.

Coryo saw you eying up the diamond ring in the store window. He found the fact that your eyes locked longingly onto the diamond ring shaped like a snowflake to be endearing. It also gave his already inflated ego a boost.

The next day the platinum blonde went to the store and bought the ring. He had the intention of giving it to you on graduation night, he honestly did, but then Strabo Plinth invited him and his family out to celebrate. And he couldn't say no to the man that made him his heir.

Coriolanus asked you to join them for dinner, but you declined. Said that you were expecting a call from your brother, since he couldn't get leave for your graduation. You told him to go and have a nice time; that you'd see him later.

Ma Plinth gave you a motherly hug full of warmth and told you that she'd be by the next day for tea. You smiled and jokingly told her that she better bring her famous biscochitos. Ma said that she would and told you to make some Earl Grey.

But your goodbyes with Strabo Plinth seemed more tight and rigid than usual. The curt congratulations and the curt thank you, goodbye you two exchanges irked him. And when Coriolanus brought it up to Strabo, well his benefactor just brushed it off by telling him that you must either be tired or that your manners aren't as polished as they seem.

Coryo never knew the real reason behind the curt and cold, but polite interaction between you and Mr. Plinth.

One day, when Coriolanus Snow's running for Senate at age 24 he'll find out and he won't be happy about it either.

Oh, and Coriolanus still has that ring. After not giving it to you after graduation he placed it in his desk drawer. He told himself that he just had to wait until the perfect moment to give it to you.

But the perfect moment never came. Time marched on and before he knew it, he's running for Senate, engaged to a woman he hates, and his being left by the woman he loves cares deeply for.

Coriolanus blinks his eyes, much like a cat does, and runs a hand over his face as soon as his last memory fades. “Fuck…” He lowly mutters out in a mix between a sigh and a groan while hitting the accept hire button option on his computer while viewing your application.

Leaning back in his chair, he runs his hands thru his hair before holding his head in shame. How could he fucking forget his promise to you. He never-

NEVER

EVER-

broke a promise to you, until now. How is he supposed to make you his Fist Lady when he's engaged to Livia and you're insisting that you don't love him anymore?

You're supposed to be by his side; be his First Lady. Livia Cardew, the cattybitch from hell, isn't First Lady material. She's not supposed to be in the Presidential Palace with him. Hell, she'll ruin the place and try to overrun it with her audacious ideas and style.

Coriolanus knows that he can't let her become his First Lady, not when he promised you that position. Hell, he promised to make you his First Lady ever since he was like 8 years old. And he kept promising you that ever since. 

Fuck, when he he stop promising that? Uh, as far as he knows the answer is never.

Goddamnit, no wonder you're so pissed at him about his engagement to Livia. But why didn't you just tell him that he's breaking his promise to make you his First Lady by being engaged to her? It's all the two of you ever dreamed about when growing up poor and destitute; desperately wanting to claw your way out of poverty. Why wouldn't you tell him that he's shattering your dreams of becoming his First Lady by getting into an arrangement with somebody else?

Damnit, he shouldn't have listened to Strabo when he told Coriolanus that a marriage alliance between him and Livia Cardew would provide him with endless money for his campaign; would provide him with a stake in one of the largest banks in the country. He should've listened to his gut and told old man Plinth no. Actually, he should've told Mr. Plinth to shut up and go to hell whenever he suggested that Coriolanus send you to some luxury Capitol run and operated spa lodge in a remote section of District 1 to be kept as his mistress.

Hell…

Now he needs to find a way out of his engagement to fulfill his promise to you. He just has to make you his First Lady. He never breaks his promises to you and never lies to you. You mean too much to him to do so.

Then, a brilliant idea pops into the platinum blonde's cunning mind. If the Cardew family's disgraced then he'll be able to call off the engagement without looking like the bad guy. And the only way to disgrace a banking family is to frame them for bank fraud.

Specifically embezzlement.

***** TAGLIST*****

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @tian-monique @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @dcylight-fciry @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress

[vampirenigh]

i hope this isnt weird or too specific--- (ignore this if u dont wanna do it!!)

i was hoping you could write about ciel and alois (blck btlr) with a very dreamy s/o? like, dreamy in so many aspects. like they look like they jumped out of a painting in a museum, or they could look identical to some figures they've seen in paintings. and their voice would be very calming too, quiet but clear iygwim.... like s/o is basically angelic and all that and their presence feels surreal to the boys

gn! reader if that's fine:DD

You are my everything

Hey. No problem at all. It's totally fine and thank you for your ask. I like when people send me specific asks because it helps me understand better and not mess up. At first I didn't understand what you meant by dreamy but because of your explication I think I got it. I will try to do gn but I never tried so if something is not right don't hesitate to tell me. And if you have any more ideas don't hesitate to send an ask.😁

Summary: Ciel and Alois whit a dreamy reader.

Characters: Ciel Phantomhive, Alois Trancy.

Warnings: gn!reader, some posesiveness in Alois?

Masterlist

Ciel Phantomhive

He first saw you in town. He was with Sebastian to take some things and investigate a new case given by the queen. But the care was totally forgotten when he saw you. You were the most beautiful person he has ever seen. He knew that you are from an aristocratic family from your clothes and your maid but didn't know which one.

So he puts Sebastian to do some research on you and he learns that you were Elisabeth's cousin. He couldn't believe it. Even more when he first talked to you at Elisabeth's birthday party. You were just so calm and welcoming that he felt safe in your presence. Your quiet but clear voice made him feel like he could tell you everything and you wouldn't judge him.

And because of that he broke the engagement with Lizzy and started to court you. Elizabeth's mother was a bit mad but couldn't stop Ciel because he loves him as her own son and he deserves to have happy memories.

So you two start to date after some time whit a new engagement made between Ciel's family and your's. He started to call you often at his mansion and talk to you. He could've sworn that you were an angel from heaven when you first comforted him after he had a nightmare and you stayed at his mansion overnight. You were so gentle with him like he was made of glass and would break at the slightest touch. It was such a different feeling that he felt he doesn't deserve it.

All this time he thought that the only thing that counts is to revenge his family and to reestablish his family name but now he starts to doubt it. The only thing that he can think of is that he doesn't want to lose you ever like he lost everyone else. He will protect you whit his life and will make sure that you are always comfortable.

God forgive anyone that hurts or embarrasses you because Sebastian will take care of him.

Ciel would often come to you to talk about what is bothering him and would be grateful for who you are that he sends you different dresses and jewelry that he knows will look good on you.

In conclusion he will love and cherish you till the day he dies and will always be grateful for your presence even in the darkest times.

Alois Trancy

He saw you in a museum in the art section. He couldn't believe how much you looked alike whit a portrait of a very beautiful women that lived over 200 years ago. He couldn't take his eyes of you so he made a move. He came to you and introduced himself in the hope that you will see him as fascinating as he sees you. And you did. You introduced yourself and engaged in a conversation whit Alois.

Your voice and your looks made him not want to leave you alone at all. He feelt like he is talking to an angel who came to safe him. He learned that you are the grand grand granddaughter of the woman in the painting and that she was one of the most beautiful women that lived in that time and that you are happy that you could resemble her.

He started to court you and made the engagement whit your parents. He asks Hannah some things that you would like and if you don't he will punish her severely.

He will eventually tell you everything about his past and about Claude. He feels so safe with you that he couldn't bring himself to hide it. And the moment when you just tell him that it doesn't matter, it doesn't define him he swore he could die right then and there as a happy boy.

He would tell Claude to protect you and to kill anyone who comes too close to you whit bad intentions.

He would be very clingy. He doesn't like being away from you. He feels like you are his lifeline and can't leave you.

Do you remember the time when Alois was on his knees in front of Claude to prevent him of leaving? He would do that when you wanted to go have some tea time whit another girl. (What can I say he has abandonament issues.)

He feels that he is the luckiest boy on the planet because he can have such a beautiful and calm lover who sees him for who he is and not for his money.

[ramblers-lets-get-ramblin]

[Sin]ema- ex fiance!Frankie Morales x fat! female reader

Main Masterlist | Frankie Morales Masterlist

Paring: ex husband!Frankie x fat/curvy/plus size! female reader

Summary: You are unhappy in your marriage but trying to hang on. When you ask your husband to spend more time with you, he thinks a movie date is in order. You don't expect to run into your ex fiance, Frankie, and his new wife there.

Rating: E for EXPLICIT MDNI 18+

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: infidelity, unprotected PIV, oral sex f!receiving, creampie, body insecurity, smoking- there are a few things I'm not tagging so as to not spoil them but they are tame.

Notes: I wrote this a while back in response to that dumbass anon and for some reason I just totally forgot about it!

When you told your husband that you wanted to spend more time together, this isn’t what you had in mind. You were hoping for something more like dinner. Out at a restaurant or a quiet night in, it didn’t matter to you. You just wanted to talk. Something your husband has no interest in. As evidenced by the fact that he brought you to the one place you couldn’t talk for your date.  Some days you find yourself wondering if this is all you’ll have to look forward to for the rest of your life. 

You only married him because that was the logical next step. Your whole relationship was just one milestone to the next, as dictated by the expectations society has set for you. Especially for women who look like you. Growing up in the 90s meant you were bombarded daily by the “heroin chic” look that was on the cover of every magazine. You could count the ribs of the models. By the time you hit high school, you had already been taught, however indirectly, that you weren’t pretty enough. There was too much of you. The fat girls in all the rom-coms were always the comic relief. The one someone had to “take one for the team” with. The one who had to settle for what she was given. 

To be fair, your husband never made you feel this way. He was genuinely interested in you. In who you are as a person. But somehow, it always felt like he loved you in spite of. Sure, you were what people would politely call “chubby,” but he loved you anyway. You had learned to love yourself years ago. Not in spite of your body, but because of it. Stretch marks, cellulite and all. You probably wouldn’t even know the difference between someone loving you just the way you are, and someone loving you anyway , if it hadn’t been for Frankie. 

Frankie had been the first man to see you for exactly who you were. Not someone who he could love if you just lost those twenty little pounds. Not someone he could diet and exercise you into being. Just you. And goddamn had he loved you. Every inch. Every roll. Every stretch mark. He reveled in the softness of your body. He worshiped at the altar that lay between your plump thighs. 

But, such things weren’t meant to last. You were engaged to be married, but something happened to him after his first tour overseas. When he came home he wasn’t the same man he had been before. He didn’t laugh as much. His eyes had a far-off look to them. As if he wasn’t really present anymore. He fucked you with an urgency, a fervor, that he never had before. Held on too tightly. Almost like you’d float away if he didn’t. Or he would, you were never really sure which. 

When he came home from his second tour he called off the wedding. Told you that you deserved better. He didn’t believe you when you said there was nobody better for you than him. When you think about what your life has become you almost want to say “joke’s on him.” Is it really, though? Perhaps the joke has always been on you. 

It feels strange to think of him after all these years, seemingly out of the blue. Especially since, or maybe because, you are concerned about the state of your marriage. You’d heard he got married a few years ago. You wonder if he ever thinks of you. Finally, it's your turn to hand your tickets to the theater employee. You don’t even remember the name of the film you are seeing. Some action movie you have no desire to actually watch. At least the previews will be good. 

You walk silently, hand in hand, with your husband to the concessions counter. You wait in line, shoulder to shoulder, without so much as a word passing between you. When you get to the counter he orders for you, a small drink and  popcorn each. When you get your snacks and turn to head for the theater, you are struck still. There he is. Right in front of you. Frankie. 

Even with the hat, you’d know him anywhere. Standing next to him, with her arm threaded through his, is one of the most gorgeous women you have ever seen. Their heads are bent together in laughter. He was always funny. The diamond on her finger reflects the bright lights of the theater lobby. You had played sick and stayed in your bed for three days when the news reached you that he had gotten married. You had found yourself wondering, what does she have that I don’t?

Now, standing before them, you think you might know. She’s all the things you knew you would never be. As much as you hate to think it of him, maybe this is the reason he called off your wedding. You didn’t even know he moved back. Your husband tugs your arm, pulling you from your thoughts. Just before you turn to walk away, Frankie’s eyes snap up and lock on yours. They widen in surprise and his mouth opens in a soft ‘o.’  

You move to walk away, intending to ignore his presence altogether, but he speaks your name. It’s so quiet you almost think you imagined it, until he repeats it, a little louder this time. Your husband nudges you with his elbow and gives you a curious look. Yo know you probably seem like a fucking idiot right now but you just can’t seem to make your mouth form words. 

Frankie catches on quickly and holds his hand out to your husband. 

“Hi there, Frank Morales.”

Your husband’s eyebrows fly towards his hairline as he recognizes the name, and its significance. He extends his hand to return the gesture. Frankie gestures towards his wife and introduces her as well, though you forget her name the second he says it. You shake her hand politely, giving her a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. She doesn’t react to your name the way your husband did to Frankie’s. Maybe he never told her about you. Maybe you’ve made the whole thing out to be more serious than it ever was. Than he ever was. You nod along to the small talk you aren’t actually listening to. You can’t hear anything over the pounding of your heart inside your ears. 

Your husband shakes Frankie’s hand again and waves to his wife. You give her a slight wave and lock eyes with Frankie once more. There’s a sad look in his eyes and just maybe, a flash of regret. The corner of his mouth turns up in a small smile as he puts his arm around his wife’s shoulder and heads in the opposite direction. 

Once settled into the packed theater, you are thankful for the darkness. When the movie begins you don’t try as hard to hold the tears back. What are the odds that he would be here of all places, of all nights? You don’t pay any attention to the movie though you stare straight ahead at the screen. You couldn’t recap it if your life were dependent upon it, beyond the occasional explosion and maybe a nip slip or too. 

Suddenly it feels as if all the air has been sucked out of the room. Your heart races and your face heats up. The room feels much smaller, the walls closer than they had been before. You take in a couple of deep, slow breaths, trying to quiet the unease that has taken root inside your body. The little voice nagging at the back of your mind, posing the question you haven’t allowed yourself in years. What if?

You need to get out of here. Get some fresh air. Your husband barely acknowledges your presence as you scoot past him, with a hushed excuse of “bathroom.” You climb down the carpeted steps and glance at your phone. There’s about thirty minutes left in the film and you wonder if he would notice if you just slipped back in just before the credits roll. 

You splash water on your face in the bathroom, drying it and your hands with a paper towel. You look in the mirror and fuss with your hair for a moment. You readjust the thigh high socks and pull your skirt down just a bit. When you walk out of the bathroom into the long hallway you look first left, then right. Left will take you back to the theater, back to the movie. Back to your husband. Right will take you out the side exit. To the alley on the side of the multiplex. 

The hydraulic door makes a loud click when it shuts behind you. A whiff of cigarette smoke invades your nostrils and you turn. Right there, next to the door, is Frankie. His back is against the wall and his right knee is bent, cowboy boot resting on the brick. He blows out another cloud of smoke and throws the cigarette butt on the ground. It rolls, embers still red and smoking, until it hits a crack in the sidewalk. You stand there and watch it until the tip turns dark and the last of the smoke wafts away into the night. 

“Hey there, bonita ”

You try to swallow past the thick lump in your throat as the heat once again flares inside your body. The sticky humidity of the night has your socks clinging to your thighs. The smoldering look in your ex’s eyes causes your panties to grow damp beneath your skirt. He pushes off the wall and takes a step towards you. You are once again frozen in place, unable to think of anything to say. He pulls his cap off by the bill and runs his fingers through his messy curls. You can still remember how your fingers feel tangled in them. How they would tickle the skin of your chest when he would fall asleep wrapped around you. 

“Guess I’ll leave you be. It was good to see you.” He spins on his heel and turns to head back inside. He gives you one last look, brown eyes as sad as you’ve ever seen them. 

Say something you fucking idiot!  

“Frankie. Wait.” 

He turns back around and closes the distance between you in just a few strides. His body crowds yours and you take a step back. Another half step and your back hits the brick. You suck in a deep breath and his arm extends, bringing his hand to rest on the wall beside your head. 

“I was beginning to think you weren’t gonna speak to me, baby.” He rasps, inching his face even closer to yours. 

“I didn- I just- I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” He places his hand at the hinge of your jaw and runs his thumb across your cheek. When you lean into his touch, closing your eyes, he moves his body even closer. 

“I thought maybe you didn’t miss me.” He holds your face just a little firmer, his lips barely brush over yours. “Not even a little bit.”  He smells like cigarettes and movie theater butter. 

You shouldn’t be doing this. Neither of you should. But you just can’t stop yourself from leaning forward a bit, hoping to catch his lips between your own. But just before you can, he pulls back. You open your mouth to protest but he places his finger over your lips. He grabs your hand and pulls you further down the alley. 

There is no light back here save for a single yellowing bulb, and Frankie pulls his phone out of his pocket and turns the flashlight on. Once he’s pulled you far enough away from the entrance to the alley, and any prying eyes, he pushes you back against the wall. He must have already gotten his fill of teasing because he immediately captures your lips in a ravenous kiss and presses his thigh right against your center. You grind down on him while your hands move automatically to his hair, knocking his cap to the ground. 

His hands go to your hips and he moans when the soft flesh yields under his touch. He inches his thigh even closer and you give his curls a tug. He releases your lips and groans low in your ear. His hands slide up your side, caressing the flesh that lives there. He drags them back down, dropping to his knees on the concrete. His fingers dip under your skirt, exposing the tops of your socks. His nostrils flare as he pops the top against your thigh. 

He lifts your skirt higher, until it sits up on your hips and he can see that you are already soaked for him. He buries his nose in the fabric, pressing it into your mound. The wet cotton is cool against your skin but the sensation is opposed by the hot breath he lets out. He inhales deeply and moans against you. He looks up at you and you are already so worked up, just one touch from him is liable to push you over the edge. 

“Fuck, I missed you bonita .”  

Before you can even respond he lifts your leg, resting your thigh on his shoulder. He scoots forwards on his knees until he can’t get any closer. He bites your mound softly through the fabric of your panties and your knees begin to wobble. He pulls them to the side with the hand that isn’t cradling your thigh against his face. His stubble pricks the soft skin there as he presses his tongue lightly against your clit. He doesn’t move it yet, just holds it there, savoring the taste of you. Reveling in the way it throbs against his tongue. 

Only when you start squirming and tugging on his hair does he finally move. He swirls his tongue in slow, precise circles around your clit. He still knows your body so well, even after all this time. He knows exactly how to have you dripping for him, whining for him. 

“Fuck! Frankie, please. ” You beg. 

“I know, baby. You need more.” He whispers. He stands from the ground and you whine at the loss of his mouth. “Turn around.” He instructs. You pout but do as he says. You know that whatever he has in mind, he’s gonna make you feel good. 

“Put your hands on the wall.” You look at him over your shoulder and he just cocks his eyebrow expectantly. “Do it.” 

You place your hands against the wall and your ass sticks out. Frankie grabs the waistband of your panties and drags them down your legs, lifting your feet one at a time for you to step out of them. You expect to hear the clinking of his belt but instead you feel his hand land a swat on your ass. From your position, you miss the look of delight as the flesh ripples from his touch. He grabs a handful of ass in each hand and spreads your cheeks apart. He resumes his previous activities. Long, slow swipes of his tongue. Through your folds and around your clit.

It doesn’t take long to have you teetering on the precipice. He still recognizes the signals your body gives him. He knows you are close. His fingers fly to your clit and his tongue breaches your entrance. His exaltation is rewarded with the feeling of your walls fluttering around his tongue. He laps up everything you have to give him and only stops when you bat his hand away. He plants a kiss on your ass cheek and lands another, softer swat on the other before he rises to his feet. His hands return to your hips and he presses his denim covered bulge against your asscrack. 

“Feel what you do to me, baby?” He asks as he pulls back onto him. Still coming down from your peak you can only nod your head in response. “I think he missed you even more than I did.” 

His hands leave you once more and the telltale sound of his belt being unbuckled and his zipper coming down fills the alley. He rests his cock, thick and uncut, on your bare asscrack. He reaches around you and runs his fingers through your folds, gathering your release. You whimper at his touch, aching for him to be inside you. 

He rubs the head in between your cheeks, down past your asshole until it catches on your entrance. Slowly, he nudges himself inside of your cunt. You’ve had bigger dicks before, longer ones. But you’ve never had one as thick as Frankie. Just on the edge of too big , he stretches you open around him. Your walls give way to him and he buries himself inside you. 

“ Oh fuck, baby!” He cries out, unable to keep his voice down.  

“You’re gonna get us caught.” You turn and look over your shoulder and are treated to the sight of the near-feral look in his eyes. Your insides turn liquid when winks at you. He’s just like you remembered he was, before the war took him away from you, devilish little grin and all. His hands move to the spot where your hips and ass meet. He grips you firmly, fingers digging into the soft flesh. 

He fucks into you with the same kind of desperation as the last time you were together. He knows this moment together is fleeting and now you understand the urgency he was feeling back then. With your hands planted firmly on the wall, you meet his every thrust. The slick sound of skin against skin fills the darkness in the alley. Your thighs begin to burn and Frankie’s pace falters. A half a dozen or so thrusts and he’s cursing out into the night. 

“Shit! Ohfuckohshit baby!” He cries and you are so fucked out you can’t even form a coherent thought. He spills inside of you and the twitching of his cock and the way he sounds when whimpering is dragging you over the edge again. He pulls out of you and his come slips out, falling to the pavement in thick globs. He spins you around by your elbow and your back is up against the wall again. 

He lays his head on your shoulder with his nose buried in your neck. Your fingers thread in his hair once more and you just stand there, together. Your chests heave against each other and you just enjoy the feel of each other, the smell. But nothing gold can stay and the moment breaks. You shuffle silently in the near dark, righting your clothes and deciding what to say or not say. Frankie picks his hat up from the ground and dusts it off with the same fingers that were buried inside you moments ago. You pull your panties back over your shoes and up your legs. They stick to your skin from your own arousal and the come that still dribbles out of you. You both avoid the other’s face. 

You walk hand in hand back down the alley until you reach where the light is. When you drop his hand he finally looks at you. 

“I’m not sure what to say here.” He admits and for the first time tonight you cannot read his expression

“It was good to see you.” you reply, mirroring his earlier sentiment. You walk out of the alley and back to the theater. 

“ Bonita , wait.” He calls after you. You slow down briefly, but square your shoulders and continue on. 

You use the bathroom and try to clean yourself up as much as possible before sliding back into your seat. Your husband leans over the armrest. “You okay”? He asks, never taking his eyes off the screen. 

“Yeah. I’m fine.” You take a sip of your soda, now mostly watered down. 

“You took a while.” He points out.

“Long line.” He doesn’t even acknowledge your response, more focused on the film’s climax. 

The credits roll after a few minutes and you stand. Your shoes stick to the floor in a way you hadn’t noticed before. Your husband grabs your hand at the end of the row and leads you down the steps. In the lobby you see Frankie and his wife coming out of their theater. She’s snuggled up under his arm, in the place that you used to call home. You and Frankie meet gazes for a moment and you both quickly look away. 

On the way home, you feign interest in your husband’s recap of the film and its best scenes. You nod your head and interject with an occasional “mhmm.” he holds your hand the whole way home, rubbing his thumb along your fingers affectionately. Once home, you get into the shower right away, wanting nothing more than to wash Frankie off of your body, out of your body. The smell of him, the feel, the taste. You fucked up. This shouldn’t have happened. The last thing you ever want to do is hurt your husband. Or break up Frankie’s marriage. 

By the time you get dressed and walk to your bed, your husband is already asleep. His face looks so peaceful. If only he knew. 

A few months later

You haven’t spoken to Frankie since that night at the movies. To be honest, you weren’t expecting to. He must have his own share of guilt and regret from that night. Yet, here you sit at a cafe on the opposite side of town. You sip your water and watch the door. You check the time on your phone even though you know it will show that only a minute or two has passed since the last time you looked. 

Finally, that mop of brown curls hidden under his ever present baseball cap appears. He looks around the small dining area for you and his face lights up when he finds you. You give him a small wave and he starts towards your table. When he reaches you he bends down and kisses your cheek, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to do. 

He’s all smiles when he opts for the chair right next to you, as opposed to the one across. He places his arm on the back of your chair and his fingers skim along your shoulder. 

“I’m happy you called, Bonita. ” 

“I was surprised to find your number in the pocket of my skirt.” You admit. You almost threw it away a dozen times in the weeks after that night.

“I was hoping you would use it.”

“I really needed to talk to you.” You fidget with silverware on the table nervously and Frankie’s brows knit in concern. 

“What’s wrong, baby?”

You reach into the pocket of your jacket and close your fingers around the ziploc bag nestled safely in there. You hesitate a moment before pulling it out and setting it on the table. 

“What’s this?” He asks, picking it up. It only takes a moment for his brain to catch up. “Shit.” He says under his breath as he takes in the contents. 

Funny how something so small, just a couple of pieces of pink and white plastic, can mean something so big. 

“Shit.” He repeats, staring at the bag as that little pink plus sign stares right back at him. 

since tags are being fucky again I'm going to discontinue my taglist for a while. follow me over at @ramble-on-fics and turn on post notifications for updates!

[bloatedandalone04]

The Only One Invited

➪the one where you’re with a.j. and ghost, your ex, gets out of prison. (requested)

Warnings: angst, fluff, smut, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, jealousy, mentions of a bad past relationship, toxic ex, unwanted attention, descriptions of fighting, mentions of blood, descriptions of wounds, alcohol consumption, swearing, blood kink....? kinda? never wrote this before heha

Word Count: 8.6k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

The loud music and flashing lights were the furthest things from your mind as you stared down at your left hand with a permanent smile on your face. 

A large rock attached to a band stared back up at you, shining under the bright lights of the club. 

A mere half an hour ago A.J. had proposed to you, back at your shared apartment, and you had to practically force yourself to carry on through with your plans of meeting Rachel and the guys at the club. 

You were more than willing to skip out on the gathering, simply because you had officially been taken off the market by the man you fell so hard for so fast. 

But, A.J. assured you that there would be lots of time to celebrate your engagement, one on one, after a few hours spent with your friends. 

While you agreed to still go, you also gave him a fair warning that you probably wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off of him for more than a minute or so. That only made him want to go out even more, just so he could show off that you belonged to each other and no one else. 

John congratulated you with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, something A.J. didn’t even bat an eye at. While he has always been somewhat possessive over you, he couldn’t bring himself to feel jealous whenever you interacted with his friends. John, Jesse, Jake and Gordon all know about how your ex boyfriend, and their former group member, treated you. 

If A.J. was a little possessive over you, Ghost was convinced he had a say in every single thing you did. He was not only emotionally manipulative, but he also rarely let you have outings like this. Ghost didn’t like the fact that you were close to the guys, and he really didn’t like how much A.J. pined over you. 

It was obvious from the start how much A.J. was into you, but you had already been spoken for by the likes of his friend. Ghost made it clear that he would never get the chance with you, and A.J. had to sit by and watch as you slowly became a shell of the person you were before.

When Ghost was arrested and officially taken out of your life, the two of you couldn’t deny your feelings of each other any longer. It was only a year and a half after when you began dating, and now another three and a half years later, he finally worked up the courage to ask you to marry him. 

You hadn’t given your toxic ex so much as a thought in almost five years, and you couldn’t be happier. You were in a much better place now, and you had A.J. to thank for that. 

After a bit of small talk with Rachel and the guys, and a fair amount of alcohol consumption, A.J. had decided he was done with socializing at this point. 

So, after a quick goodbye and a few more hugs of congratulations, you were off, your hand held tightly in A.J.’s. 

As soon as you were in the entrance hall of your apartment, his lips were on yours and your back was against the door. He was addictive as well as addicted, and he was kissing you like he still couldn’t believe he had managed to have you all to himself. 

Finally, you were all his.

After years of pining and watching Ghost treat you in all the ways you didn’t deserve, he had stayed true to his word and given you a much better life. You were finally being shown the adoration and respect you had been missing out on, and A.J. couldn’t be more full of pride that it was he who got to shower you in all of it. 

A vase was knocked off the front hall table in the midst of him taking you right there, and he didn’t care one bit about the replaceable porcelain as he carried you to your room after getting you off a couple of feet from the door.

It was all smiles and kisses as he stumbled his way through the apartment, his hands never leaving your body, and your fingers never detangling from his hair.  

Pictures were accidentally knocked off the walls, and there would be a mess to clean up later, but neither of you seemed too worried about it as the feeling of bliss took over the pair of you completely.

-

The next morning, or maybe it was the afternoon, you and A.J. still hadn’t left the comfort of the king sized bed when his phone went off. 

He felt around the comforter with the hand that wasn’t gripping your waist, and squinted as he read the caller ID. “Jake,” he muttered and you hummed, nuzzling closer to him. He answered the call, bringing his phone up to his ear with a muffled, “Yeah?”

“A.J.,” Jake said and he could hear the frustration and panic in his best friend’s voice. “You won’t believe it, man.”

A.J. closed his eyes again as the sun seeped into the room, him having failed to shut the blinds before taking you to bed for the night. “What?”

“It’s Ghost,” Jake muttered. “He’s fucking back.”

A.J.’s grip on you tightened at that, and his eyes opened again. “What do you mean, he’s back?” 

“He’s out, A.J.,” Jake said. “They released him this morning.”

“Fuck,” A.J. grunted and you felt it as his whole body tensed up. You lift your head and take note of the crease in his forehead, frustration evident on his face. 

“What?” You ask quietly, placing a comforting hand on his bare chest. “What is it?”

A.J. just shook his head at you as he listened to whatever else Jake was saying. “Yeah, alright,” he replied. “I’ll be there later. Thanks, man.”

When he hung up and tossed his phone to the side, you furrowed your brows and propped yourself up on your elbow. “What’s wrong?”

As he looked at you, A.J. felt a surge of anger go through him. He hated Ghost and was pissed off that he had been released from prison so quickly, and the fact that it was the day after you got engaged was another thing that royally ticked him off. 

He had saved you from the man once before, and he had no problem doing it again, but he still hated the fact that he was out now. 

“It’s Ghost,” he mumbled.

The tracing of your fingers against his chest stopped. “What about him?”

He felt you tense up in his arms, and he knew all those memories you had of Ghost were coming back. The same memories you hadn’t thought about in years, the ones he never wanted you to think about again. A.J. hated Ghost with a passion that ran deep. It had been building up since the minute he saw your awful excuse of an ex lay his hands on you.

“They released him this morning,” he quietly informed you and felt your hand move to squeeze his arm.

“So,” you trail off, hesitantly meeting his eyes. He hadn’t seen you be this on edge with him since the beginning of your relationship, the beautiful thing it is. You were closed off and apprehensive at the start, but he was quickly able to break down the walls you had spent the whole duration of your relationship with Ghost building up. “What does this mean for us?”

You sounded nervous, and he really couldn’t blame you. Ghost is a menace and one of the worst people A.J. had ever met. If he had any say in it at all, Ghost would still be behind bars and for much longer than five years. 

A.J. gently lifted you up so you were straddling him after he moved to rest against the headboard. “Nothing,” he assured you, resting his hands on your waist and nudging your nose with his. “This means nothing. You’re my girl, my finaceé.”

You place your hands on his shoulders, gently digging your fingers into his skin in a soft massage. “But I was his girl before,”

He ran his hands up your back in an attempt to comfort you, not knowing what  else he could do at the moment to make you feel at ease. “Yeah, he had his chance,” he agreed, and continued before you could say anything, “But he fucked it up, as if he even deserved to have you in the first place.” 

You give him a weak smile. “A.J.,” you trail off, unsure of how to put your concerns into words. You know he understands either way, but you were still uneasy about the very real fact you would have to continue to live your life like normal, but now have your abusive ex back in the picture. “I can’t go back to how things were.”

You knew Ghost would hold a grudge against the other guys for the fact that he was the only one who was arrested, so just not seeing him wouldn’t be an option. He would be around the guys again, and possibly on a daily basis, so you would just have to resort to avoiding him as best as you could. 

“You won’t,” he said sternly, his eyes softening at just how nervous and different you had become since he told you about the release of your ex. “You won’t, baby, I promise. He’s not going to hurt you, he won’t even fucking breathe in your direction as long as I can prevent it.”

You give him a genuine smile and lean in to brush your lips against his, “I don’t want him hurting you,”

“I don’t care what happens to me,” he replied and you could tell just how much he meant those words. “You’re the best thing in my life, and I won’t let you slip back into the way you were before.”

He grabbed your left hand and raised it up, pressing his lips to the finger that held your ring. 

“I promised you when I put this ring on your finger that I would spend the rest of my life making sure you’re the happiest you could ever possibly be, and I intend on keeping that promise,” his words were so soft spoken, it had tears gathering in your eyes almost instantly. “You’re my future. Ghost is our past. He’s not going to ruin what we’ve spent almost four years creating. I’m not going to let him.”

His words make you feel at ease, and you nod at him before pressing your lips to his in a proper kiss. You slide your hands up and grip the sides of his face as he pulls your chest flat against his. Slowly, you move your hips and feel a shock of pleasure shoot through you at the friction.

A.J. felt it, too, and he deepened the kiss with a low groan. “Fuck,” he muttered against your lips. “He’s fucking crazy for taking this for granted, the fucking idiot.”

You smile against him and grind down again, tangling your fingers in his hair as you murmur a quiet request, “Make me forget about him all over again,”

A.J. groaned loudly before he was pushing you back down onto the bed and hovering over you, just like how he was last night. 

-

Later, you and A.J. finally got out of bed after getting a couple more hours of sleep. Jake had texted him and invited the two of you out to the club tonight, and though you were a bit hesitant about possibly running into Ghost, you agreed to go meet up with the guys again. 

“Damn,” A.J. said under his breath as he leaned against the bathroom door frame. You were standing at the counter, the bright lights around the mirror making you look like something straight out of heaven. His eyes trailed up and down the tight red dress you wore, giving you a bit of a sinful look amidst the heavenly glow that surrounded you. “My girl is hot.”

You grin at him in the mirror, shaking your head slightly as you apply a matching red lip. 

“Fuck,” he muttered and pushed himself off the frame. He stands behind you and wraps his arms around your middle, pressing his lips to the side of your neck. “Maybe we should stay home tonight.”

Laughing, you lean back against him and keep eye contact with him in the mirror. “We’ve spent pretty much the entire day at home,” 

“Why not spend the rest of it at home as well?” He shrugged, smirking at your reflection. “I didn’t hear any complaints from you before.”

“Oh, I’m not complaining,” you match his smirk and hold up your left hand. “I just want another night to show this off.” You wiggle your fingers for further effect.

A.J.’s smirk turns into a genuine smile for a second as he says, “I guess I can stick it out for another night,” he replied smoothly, running his nose up your neck until his lips were right next to your ear. “It allows me to show you off to everyone.”

You turned your head so you were able to look into his eyes. “I love you,” 

A.J. hummed, closing the distance and connecting your lips in a passionate kiss. You lift your right hand and tangle it in his hair, the angle of your arm a bit awkward but nothing you couldn’t put up with if it meant you got to kiss him. “I love you,” he said back, his lips slightly wet from the quick heated kiss. “And I got you something.” 

You raise a brow in curiosity, allowing him to use his right hand to turn your head back towards the mirror, where you saw the necklace dangling from his left one. “A.J.,” you trail off, eyeing the chain as a warm feeling spread all throughout your body. “You didn’t have to get me anything else. The ring is more than enough.”

A.J. waved you off as he helped clip it around your neck. “I’ll never pass up the opportunity to spoil you,” he murmured, kissing the back of your neck once the clasp was secured. “You know that.”

You look at the charm in the mirror, a smile gracing your features as you take in the simple A.J. that was engraved on it. It was backwards in the mirror, but you were still able to immediately tell what it said.

When you didn’t say anything else, A.J. bit down on his lip and reached a hand up to flatten his now messy hair. Even though he would be wearing his hat later, he still wanted to look good for you at all times; including right after you just finished making a mess of his strands. “I hope you don’t think I’m being too…I don’t know, possessive or something like that,”

You shake your head and wrap your arms around his neck. “Not at all,” you say and brush your lips against his. “Claim me as yours in any way you see fit. You won’t hear any complaints about it from me.”

A.J.’s look of nervousness quickly wipes away and a smirk replaces it. “Is that so? In that case,” he leaned down, teasing your mouth with his, before moving past it and placing an open mouth kiss to the side of your neck. Before you could stop yourself, a moan escapes you as he sucks your skin between his lips and creates a dark love bite, right above the chain of your necklace. “Now I’m ready to go.”

-

“I’m so excited for you guys!” Rachel says as she gives you a hug. You hug her back as A.J. and Jake greet each other with a quick hand shake. “I knew you two would end up engaged, I just can’t believe how long it took him to ask you.”

A.J. rolls his eyes and embraces her in a half hug. “I bought the ring four months into the relationship,” he points out and your eyes widen as you tug him towards you. 

“You did?” You ask and he nods, a smirk forming on his lips when you lightly slap his shoulder. “A.J., you tease! What the hell were you waiting for?”

His smirk turned into a smile as he shrugged and pressed his lips to your forehead. “I didn’t want to rush things,”

You shake your head and kiss him quickly, wrapping your arms around his middle while his hands tightly grip your waist. “I would’ve said yes four days into our relationship, never mind four months,”

A.J. raises a brow as you reach a hand up to straighten out his hat. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,”

“Damn,”

You laugh and nuzzle your face against his chest. “But I love you, and I wouldn’t change a single thing about the last four years,”

He smiles down at you, “Me either,” his eyes meet John’s from across the club. A.J. squeezes your hips, pressing another kiss to your lips before stepping away from you, his mouth next to your ear. “I’ll be right back.”

You nod, moving towards Jake, who was leaning against the bar. “I’ll get you a drink,” you offer, and A.J. gives you a grateful smile and a quick kiss to the side of your head before he’s wandering off in the direction of John.

Turning back to Jake, you give him a small smile when he hands you the same drink that Rachel is sipping on before ordering A.J. a glass of bourbon. “Don’t worry,” he winks at you, downing his own drink before continuing, “I’ll say it’s from you.” 

With a quick laugh, you wave him off. “You don’t have to,”

Before he could get another word in, you feel a hand press against the small of your back. You immediately stiffen, the touch being familiar but not in a good way. A.J. was always gentle with you, never forcefully putting his hands on you, and it seems as though he couldn’t be away from you for more than thirty seconds before someone else came swooping in. 

This certain someone was a person you never wanted to see again, and you had been so sure you wouldn’t have to see him again, but here we are. 

“Hey, brat,” the unflattering nickname made you hold back a grimace. “Haven’t seen you in a while. It’s been so long.”

“Not long enough,” you say through your teeth, your grip on the glass tightening the longer he kept his hand on you. 

A laugh was heard right next to your ear, the sound making you flinch slightly. “Nice to see you haven’t changed a bit,” he murmured, dipping his head down so his face was closer to yours. “Brat.”

You turn to face him at the same time Jake finally notices the man next to you, his eyes darkening as he pulls Rachel behind him. “Ghost,” he says, stepping closer to you, but he could only get so far due to your ex blocking his path. “How long you been back?” He knew the answer, but also knew better than to set Ghost off right away.

“A while,” Ghost answers, shrugging slightly. “Got out this morning.”

“Right,” Jake trailed off, eyeing you with a sense of protection you usually see from A.J. “Well, a lot has happened in the last five years, man. I mean, that’s half a decade.”

Ghost leans closer to the man, a flash of anger in his eyes. “You don’t think I know that?” He asked, his tone deep and deadly. “I was the one in prison.”

“I know, man,” Jake raised his hands in defense. “I’m just saying. Things have changed since you’ve been in there.”

“Yeah?” Ghost asked. “Like what?”

Jake wrapped a protective arm around Rachel, his eyes flickering over to you. “You know, things,”

Ghost turned back to you and placed his hand flat against the bar on the other side of you, successfully caging you in between his arms. You wished you slipped away when you had the chance. “Care to fill me in, baby?” He asked, his voice quiet in the loud club, but you still heard him.

You turn to glare at him. “Don’t call me that,” you mutter, pushing against his chest. He didn’t budge a bit. “I mean it, we’re done.” 

Ghost smirked down at you. “I don’t recall us ever breaking up, brat,”

“You went to jail,” you seethe, trying to push him away from you again. “That should have been a clear enough message.”

“You didn’t wait for me?” His voice was dripping with faux sadness. “I thought we had something special.”

You felt yourself beginning to slip back to the sad, weak girl you were when you were with Ghost. You were so easy to manipulate back then, so easy to use, and use you he did. You changed for the better when A.J. finally initiated a relationship with you, and you can’t go back to who you were before him. 

Jake placed a firm hand on Ghost’s shoulder, pulling his attention from you. “Listen, man, she’s not your girl anymore, alright?” He tried to sound reasonable, but there was no reasoning with Ghost. “Let it go.”

“Take your own advice and let me go, Jake,” Ghost shoved Jake’s hand from his shoulder and turned back to face you. “Come back to me, baby. We were so good together.”

You shake your head and try once again to push him away from you. “No,”

“Come on,” he grabbed your wrist and lifted your arm, his eyes narrowing when he caught sight of your engagement ring. If it made him mad, he didn’t show it as he dropped your arm back down and gripped your waist. “You were always so willing, what happened, hm? Where did my obedient girl go?” 

“Leave me alone, Ghost,” you try to sound strong, though you felt incredibly weak. “I’m not that girl anymore.”

Ghost cooed, “I don’t believe that,” he dipped his head down so his lips were close to yours. “Just come back to me.”

Before you could say or do anything else, Ghost pulled away from you when he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder. 

“Jake, I swear to fucking-” he cut himself off when he turned around and came face to face with your fiancé. “A.J.! Hey, man. I can’t talk right now, I’m kinda in the middle of something.”

A.J. grinned at him. “In the middle of what?” It was then when you realized that A.J. had his hands tucked behind his back and was swaying slightly, his grin so clearly forced. 

“You know,” Ghost gestured to you. “I’m trying to help this broad remember who she belongs t-”

Before anyone could say anything else, A.J. swung his right arm up and decked Ghost square in the face. He couldn’t even recover before A.J. was pulling you from your place by the bar and swinging his fist at Ghost’s face again once you were safely out of the way. 

In the midst of all that, his hat had fallen from his head, but it would’ve hit the floor anyway when Ghost recovered from the two punches and threw one of his own. You watch as his fist meets A.J.’s jaw, and how he stumbles back a bit, his knuckles brushing against the place that would surely have a bruise forming soon. 

Satisfied, Ghost looked between the two of you before laughing breathlessly, his index finger gesturing between you. “You two?” He asked, and A.J. didn’t answer. He just clenched his jaw that was probably already starting to hurt. “Really? A.J., come on, man, what the fuck.”

A.J. huffed out a breath, narrowing his eyes at your ex while you stood behind his protective stance. 

Ghost glared at his former friend when he saw the initials carved onto your necklace. “You?”

“Yeah,” A.J. answers, stretching his fingers before clenching them back into a fist. “Me.”

And just like that, your future husband was knocking your ex boyfriend a few feet back with a swing of his arm and his fist to his nose. Ghost barely recovered before A.J. was punching him again, this time his cheek, where he delivered a harsh blow to the bone. 

Jake pulled you behind him as Ghost got another hit in, making A.J.’s nose shed a stream of blood, but he didn’t do nearly as much damage as he was receiving. A.J. was smart, clever and a borderline genius. He was also a hell of a good fighter, and has won more brawls than he could count on two hands. 

He was observant, and often used his surroundings to his advantage. That was why he easily got the upper hand by grabbing a nearby stool and slamming it against Ghost’s body, making the man fall to the floor with a harsh thud. The stool broke on impact, pieces of wood and screws flying to the ground as well. 

The club patrons were looking on with shock, but some were also intrigued and impressed by A.J.’s ability to stay in control during a fight. Some of them were on their phones, no doubt calling the police, and you knew you had to get him out before he got arrested, too. 

Before A.J. could finish the job, Jake was grabbing him by the shoulders and handing him his glass of bourbon. “Alright, alright, man, that’s enough,” he says, taking the glass back once A.J. downed the drink, all while keeping his eyes on the man who was still on the floor. “Go home, A.J., I’ll take care of him.”

You take that as your cue to lead him out of there. Grabbing his forgotten hat, you press yourself into A.J.’s side and guide him towards the door. You didn’t get far before Ghost was calling out to you, his teeth stained with his blood, “Fuck you, A.J. We were fucking friends,”

A.J. just scoffed and wrapped his arm around your waist. “We were never friends, you fucking prick,” he stumbled towards the door, his body on fire from the rage that had set in once he saw Ghost’s hands on your body. “Touch her again and I won’t stop next time until you’re dead.” 

And he was completely serious.  

Ghost had his chance, fucked it up, and wouldn’t get a second one to degrade you in all the ways he did before. Not if A.J. had any say in it.

You were glad you had chosen to walk to the club tonight, as maybe the cool air would help calm him down. A.J. was tense, his body stiff in the way that told you he was furious. You could only imagine all the thoughts that were running through his mind after seeing you with your abusive ex, and you hated having to put him through that. 

“A.J…” You trailed off, feeling the way his hand tightened around yours as he pulled you along with him and towards your apartment. “I’m sorry.”

That had him stopping so abruptly, you had no choice but to bump into his side at the sudden halt. He looked down at you with confusion evident on his face. “What are you sorry for? It’s not your fault your ex is a fucking asshole,” 

You shrugged, not meeting his eyes. “I know, but I didn’t do more to get him away from me,”

A.J. was confused, but his anger overpowered that confusion. Had Ghost really made you believe that what happened just now was your fault? The thought made him even more pissed, and he had to hold onto every rational thought inside his head that was currently stopping him from going back into that club and finishing what he started. 

“Y/n,” he said sternly, resuming the walk back to the apartment, but at a much slower pace than before. He was still furious, but also knew he needed to stay calm for you. The last thing he wanted was for you to be reminded of Ghost’s anger issues just because he couldn’t de-escalate a situation. “You have nothing to be sorry for, alright? Nothing. Ghost is an idiot for putting those thoughts in your head.”

“I guess,” you say quietly, and A.J. bit his tongue to stop himself from calling you out on allowing Ghost to push you back into that mindset you had when you were with him. It truly wasn’t your fault.  

You make it back to the apartment a few minutes later. A.J. was still angry, and you were still on edge. It was such a contrast from the moods you were in when you returned home last night, the two of you being so happy and giddy and loving on one another. 

Looking over at him, you notice the blood that was still on his lip and chin from the punch his nose took, and you furrow your brows as you feel your own anger begin to brew, as well as guilt. 

A.J. noticed, like he always did. “What’s wrong?” 

You reach your hand out to him, running your thumb over his bruised and bloody knuckles. “Let me help you,” you offer quietly, despite the walls being thick and well insulated, you still didn’t want to be too loud right now.

A.J. gently gripped your jaw in between his thumb and index finger, tilting your head up so you were forced to look into his annoyingly beautiful blue eyes. “I’m alright, baby,” he says just as quietly. “I’m more worried about you.”

You hold eye contact as you shrug. “I wish he never got out,” you say truthfully. 

A.J. nods, wrapping you up in his arms and pulling you into his chest, immediately filling you with a sense of comfort. “Me too,” he says, massaging the back of your head as you inhale his woodsy scent. “Seeing you with him tonight….”

When he doesn’t say anything else, you pull back just enough to be able to look up at him. “What?”

He stared back down at you, his forehead creased in a furrow. “I just… I was brought back to all those years ago, when I was too stupid to say anything to you about how I felt. I kept it inside, because even though you were with a guy who didn’t deserve you, I didn’t want to fuck up what we already had going on,” 

You listened to the rare moment where he wasn’t able to keep his feelings inside and was forced to let them out. Truthfully, you adored the times when he felt comfortable enough to let you all the way in and loved how much he trusted you. 

“I hate to admit it, but,” he began, sliding his hands up so they were caressing either side of your face. “I’m jealous, baby. So fucking jealous that he had you. I fucking hate him and I hate the history you have with him. He never deserved you, it should’ve been me, but I was too much of a coward back then.”

You quickly shake your head and place your hands flat on his chest. “A.J.-”

“No, I let him treat you like you were nothing, but you’re everything, baby,” he promises, leaning down so his nose brushes against yours. “You’re everything to me. You always were, and you always will be. Ghost won’t change that, no matter what. The fucker had his chance, but I won’t let him have another one. You’re my girl, and I’m yours. I always was.”

You exhale quickly at his words and the way they dripped with possessiveness. God, you loved this man, and would happily live the rest of your life in this apartment with him. 

“Jay,” you all but whimpered, reaching one hand up to tug at his hair. He pulled you closer to him as he suppressed a groan. “Fuck, please.”

He hummed quietly, brushing his blood coated lips against yours. “Please…what?” He asked, sliding his hands back down to squeeze your hips in a way that had you whining softly. “What do you need, baby? Tell me and I’ll give it to you. I’ll give you anything you could ever want.”

“Please, touch me,” you requested in a soft murmur, using your other hand to tug at the hair on the back of his neck. “I need you, need to forget the way his hands felt on me.”

A.J.’s hands tighten their grip on your hips, burrowing his nose into your hair. “Yeah?” He asked, his anger quickly beginning to dissolve into lust. “You need me to help you forget about your fuckhead of an ex? Remind you how my own hands feel?”

“Give me a refresher,” you say and begin unbuttoning his shirt. “I don’t think I could ever forget how good your hands are, Jay.”

He groaned against your neck, his hands sliding down and playing with the end of your dress, where he pulled it up until it gathered above your hips. “That’s right, sweet girl,” he picked you up effortlessly and carried you over to the dining table, the open concept making his journey over there an easy one. “I don’t want you to ever forget how good I make you feel, just the way you deserve.”

He sets you down on top of the table, pulling off your dress completely and leaving you in just the skimpy black lingerie you were hiding underneath. 

A.J’s eyes darken at the sight, a deep grunt leaving his throat as he leans down to attach his lips to the skin of your breasts that was peeking out from the confinements of the lacy bra. “Fuck,” he sighed against your soft skin, unable to stop himself from sucking a mark onto it, just below where your necklace rested. “This is what you were wearing when that fucker touched you? Did you wear this just for me?”

“Yes,” came your instant reply, so obedient in the way Ghost forced you to be, but it was completely consensual with A.J. “Yes, only for you.”

A.J. smirked against the hickey he sucked onto you, his lips brushing over it as he mumbled, “My girl,” he kissed his way down your body, his hands gently pushing on your shoulders until you were laying flat against the surface of the table. “My sweet, sexy, beautiful girl.”

His words make you breathless and you arch your back when he kisses the skin of your abdomen. Your hands tangle in his hair while his tug down the equally lacy thong before he wraps his arms around your thighs. “God, A.J.,” you say under your breath. “You make me feel so good, with and without your hands.”

He grins against the skin of your hip when you lift it up towards his mouth. “I love you,”

His lips attach to your clit shortly after that, and you’re once again left without any air. “I love you,” you rasp out, your fingers getting lost in his light strands of hair. He sucks on your clit, chin still bloody and making a bit of it wipe off on you. Yet you found it strangely attractive, seeing his visual evidence of just how far he’d go to protect you rub off on you while he went down on you. “I love you more than anything, A.J.”

He hums in appreciation, kneeling down on the floor and pulling you by your waist so your thighs are resting on his shoulders. As his tongue works on your opening, your hips moving on their own accord against his mouth. “That’s right,” he praises, repeating his words from before as he keeps his head still and lets you grind your core against his awaiting tongue. “So good for me.”

You gasp quietly when he wraps his arms around your thighs again and delves his tongue inside you. “Fuck,” you drag the word out a bit as you arch away from the table again. “I need you so badly all the time, fuck.”  

A.J. hummed, removing his mouth from you but keeping the pressure by sliding his index and middle finger inside you with ease. “You’re all needy for me, huh, baby,” it wasn’t a question, because you both knew what the answer would be if it were. 

“A.J.,” you whine as your face heats up, your hands moving to grip the edges of the table on either side of your thighs. 

“I know,” he coos quietly, pumping his fingers in and out of you, slowly getting you all riled up for him. “I know, I’m needy for you, too, baby. I want you all the time, everyday.” 

“You have me,” you promise, blindly reaching for his free hand with your left one, your proof being your ring that was shining against the single light above the table that A.J. had flipped on upon returning home. “Forever, you have me.”

“Mm,” he sighed in contentment. “Forever sounds perfect, baby. Just you and me.”

“Just us,” you agreed, knowing that your words would assure him. Just from his firm grip on your hand, you knew he still kept the smallest bit of anger hidden, and you appreciated his attempt at shielding you from it. The blood was still on his lips and chin, but it had long since dried, and you were concerned about how hot you found the sight.

You shouldn’t, because it was physical harm that had been done to him, but he took those two punches for you, because he couldn’t stand the way your ex spoke about you. He couldn’t stand the sight of his hands on you, and the thought of you slipping back into the old version of you. 

His fingers continue to fuck in and out of you, the digits slick with visual evidence of how much he turned you on. Because he had made you come so many times during the last twenty four hours, you were a bit sensitive to the way his fingers brushed against your walls.

You already felt overstimulated, despite not coming yet, and you blamed it on the way he took you so good just hours before you and he left for the club. 

His mouth returned to your clit, where he harshly sucked at the bundle of nerves and elicited a sudden and involuntary jerk of your hips. A.J. huffs out a laugh against you, speeding up the pace of his fingers when he feels you clench around him. “You’re close,” he observes, releasing your clit and placing a kiss to your hip instead. “I can feel it.” When you pull your hand from his and tangle it in his hair again, he uses the newfound freedom to grip one of your breasts through your bra. 

It only adds to the overall pressure that is building up deep within you, and you were coming before you knew it. Your thighs tried to close around him, but his shoulders prevented them from doing so, and your hand pulled at his hair with a firm tug. The grunt he let out because of that had you squeezing your eyes shut as his fingers continued to ride you through your high. 

Your legs were shaking and felt numb as you cowered away from the relentless thrusts of his hand. “Jesus,” you mutter once he finally slipped his fingers from you, the pleasure beyond blinding at this point.

He grinned down at you when he stood up, his face full of pride as he sucked his fingers clean. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah,” you answer breathlessly. “I’m good.”

His hands settle on your hips when you sit up on the table, your palms flat against the surface to keep you upright. You gazed up at him, his red tinted lips, slick with your arousal, and his lust filled eyes.

You were feral for this man. “Come here,” you beckoned him over with a wave of your hand. That same hand gripped the back of his neck when he neared you, pulling him forward slightly so you could connect your lips in the first proper kiss since coming back home. You moan at the feeling of his lips on yours, despite the kiss having a metallic taste to it, you didn’t care. Noisily, you pull away and grip the side of his face with your other hand. “Thank you for sticking up for me, for protecting me.”

A.J. brushes his nose against yours. “I always will,” he says and slides his hands up your back. “You know I’d do anything for you.”

“I know,” you nod, licking your saliva coated lips. “I want you to do something for me right now.” 

A.J. moves to stand between your legs, his still clothed front pressing against your partly bare one. “Anything, baby,” he reiterates.

You give him a sharp tug and wrap your arms around his neck. “I want you to fill me up,” you say, pressing a searing kiss to his lips, one that had him feeling lightheaded when mixed with your words. “I want to feel you, on me, in me, everywhere.” 

You reach down to grip him through his pants, hearing the quick inhale from him when you break the kiss. His hands move to the base of your neck, putting no pressure at all there, despite knowing how much it drove you crazy. 

“Make me yours, A.J.,” you softly begged. “Fuck me in the way we both need right now, let me make you come, I want it inside me.”

A.J. growled under his breath, gripped your throat and watched the way your eyes rolled back slightly, clearing loving the feeling of his fingers pressing against your airway. “You’re mine, baby,” he muttered, pressing another deep kiss to your awaiting mouth. His tongue swipes along your lower lip, leaving behind a string of saliva when he pulls away. “I’m gonna fill you up so good, sweet girl. I’m going to make you forget that fucker was ever part of your life.”

“Please,” you beg as you push his shirt off his shoulders. You move onto the button of his pants, unzipping them once the waistband loosened. Shoving them down, you guide his hips closer to yours before moving your hands back to his shoulders. “Fuck me, Jay, let me feel you.”

“I’ll take care of you,” he assures you, reaching behind you to unclasp your bra. He pulls it from your body and it joins the growing pile of clothes on the floor next to the table. “Like I always do.”

While your fingers slip up to tangle in his hair, he uses one hand to free himself from the confinements of his boxer briefs. He pulls you closer to the edge of the table, quieting your moan when he slips inside you with his lips. 

The stretch you always felt whenever he entered you had your eyes squeezing shut and your fingers tugging tightly on his hair. “Fuck,” he groaned once he bottomed out, his thumbs digging into the bones of your hips when he gave a sharp thrust. “You always take me so well.”

You moaned in agreement, pulling at the hairs on the base of his neck. “You’re so good to me, A.J.,” you whimpered, tilting your head back when his lips attached to your neck as he began to thrust into you at a steady pace. “Best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He moaned against your skin, his hips hitting yours at a bruising pace. “I love you so fucking much,” he says, pulling you even closer to him. “I always have.”  

His sweet words make you dizzy, as does the feeling of his lips peppering kisses all over your neck and shoulders. “I love you,” 

The table, though sturdy, creaked with each thrust of his hips. You tug on his hair until he lifts his head, allowing you to connect your lips in a searing kiss. His blood had been pretty much wiped off by now, but you still tasted the bitterness of it on his lips. You could only guess how much of it had been smeared on your own face.

It was messy, gross, even, but one of the hottest things you’d ever experienced. While you hated Ghost and hated the fact that he had hurt A.J., he just looked so damn edible all the time, even when he was sporting a bloody nose and a bruised jaw. He wore those wounds proudly, knowing he won both the fight and your heart, though the latter he had claimed a long time ago. 

With each thrust, he slid deeper and deeper into you. Your previous orgasm had made your walls so warm and inviting, A.J. couldn’t help but pick up the pace a bit, the slick streaks he was met with every time he pulled out only fueling him to keep going. 

And your sounds. Fuck. 

He loved the way you sounded when he fucked you like this. You got so lost in the moment and didn’t care how loud you were being. A.J. didn’t care either. The walls were thick and there was insulation in the ceiling, so it’s not like your neighbors could hear how loud you two got when being intimate. 

Even if you were living in a cheap apartment with the thinnest walls ever built, he would still fuck you just like this and take pride in the noise complaints he would undoubtedly receive. How could he not when it was him who got you all riled up and loud.

You let out quiet gasps against his mouth as he fucked into you, your hands wrapping around his biceps. Digging your nails into his tattooed skin, you bite down on his bottom lip as you pull away. “God, you’re so perfect,” he grunted, placing one hand flat against the table behind you. “I remember thinking that the first time I saw you.”

You clench around him at his words. “Five years ago?” You managed to ask as you began to feel lightheaded from the way he reached so deep inside you. 

“Yeah, baby,” he said through a locked jaw, the way your walls tightened around him making his head spin. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time.”

You whimper quietly when his hand that wasn’t next to you reaches down to rub your throbbing clit. “I wanted you for so long,” you whisper. “I can’t believe you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” he confirmed, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “I always was.”

You moan loudly, leaning back and propping yourself up on your elbows. As you look down at where you two connected, you were powerless to stop the string of whines that left your lips in unison to the thrusts of his hips. 

“That’s it,” he praises. “That’s my girl, get loud for me.”

Your back arches and you clamp down around him when you feel the knot that had formed in your stomach begin to snap. Unable to not obey his wishes, your brows furrow as you cry out in ecstasy. “Fuck, don’t stop,” you beg, laying flat on your back as your legs began to shake. “Please, Jay, don’t- fuck… don’t stop.”

“I’m not stopping,” he says, picking up the pace of both his hips and his finger. “Not until I feel you come around me, like I know you want to.”

“I do,” you say and press your heel into his lower back. “I want to so badly.”

A.J. leaned down and slid his hand that was on the table up so it was gripping yours, lacing your fingers together. “So do it,” he prompted. His lips brushed against yours as he continued to coax a second orgasm out of you. “Come for me, baby, all over me. Let me feel how good I fuck you.”

“God,” you cry out, feeling your stomach twist and tighten before you were granted with the sweet relief that came when you clenched impossibly tight around him, coming all over him just like he requested you to. “Fuck.”

A.J. groaned loudly as he struggled to keep up the pace, your walls wrapped so tightly around him making the task difficult. “Fuck,” he repeated the word, his eyes nearly rolling into the back of his skull when he caught sight of the way your mouth hung open in silent pleads for him to continue until he was finished. “So fucking good. So tight. You gonna let me come inside you, hm?”

It wouldn’t be the first time, oh, far from it. You and he hadn’t used a condom since the first time you slept together, but he still liked to ask if he could finish while still being buried in you. 

“Yes,” you answer without hesitation, craving to feel the heat of his seed as it invades your core. “I want you to. I want it so bad, Jay. Please.” 

You were overstimulated, but that didn’t stop you from allowing him to abuse your spent heat. 

A.J.’s hips stuttered at your begs for him to fill you up, his jaw locking as he stared at your kiss swollen, blood tainted lips. “Fuck,” he muttered, gripping the edge of the table so tightly he was afraid he’d chip the wood. “Fuck, baby.” 

You encouraged his incoming release by sucking him in deeper and whining softly beneath him. “Please,” you pleaded quietly, your core throbbing with the need for a break, but you wouldn’t give yourself that relief until A.J. got his. “Fill me up, A.J., I want it.”

And who was he to deny your wants?

With a groan of your name, he was spilling into you and fucking his come deeper inside you as his pace never let up. You moan loudly at the warmth that flooded through you, reaching both hands down so you could pull him impossibly closer to you by his waist. 

He huffed out a breath once his thrusts finally ceased, his body aching with exhaustion. “I love you so much,” he whispered next to your ear before placing a kiss to the skin underneath it. 

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull his chest down onto yours, keeping him buried deep within you with your heel still pressed against his back. “I love you, too, A.J.,” you say back, pecking his lips as he tries to catch his breath. “Thank you for protecting me tonight, it was nice to see Ghost get his ass handed to him.”

A.J. laughed loudly before pressing another kiss to your lips, one that was much longer than the previous one. “I’ll always be there to protect you,” he promised, caging you in by placing his forearms on either side of your head. “As for Ghost….well, I’d kick his ass anytime, no matter the situation.”