#i did try call him but he didn’t pick up and texted me instead | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

charmercharm3r · 1 year

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Dream You

Masterlist

wc: 4k

Synopsis: He cheated on you— in your dreams, then took kiss it better too literally.

warnings: smut, explicit sexual content, softdom!chan, light bondage, oral (m receiving), dacryphilia, pretty intensely fluffy they just rly love each other

☆ﾟ

4,000 followers! enjoy this lil idea as a thank you. i appreciate you!

You. Needed. Affection.

Just affection, and loads of it from one person in specific. Mostly because you were pretending to be mad at him and it made you miss him even more. Chan rarely makes you mad, he’s always good about communicating and listening, so the fact that you were mad at him and he didn’t even know why threw him off a little.

So there you were, sat on the couch wrapped in one of his hoodies eating straight out of the ice cream tub because you were too upset to do anything but count the seconds until he got home. You weren’t answering his texts, you picked up his call because you accidentally pressed the wrong button out of muscle memory and Chan could tell through the phone that today was just not a good day.

When he came home and found you sitting in the same spot that you were in when he called you– he knew this because you described it exactly as it looked, Chan almost collapsed at how cute you were. You had this ruffle in your brow and his hoodie looked like it was threatening to drown you in the black material. Gnawing on the spoon, your chest rumbled a little as Chan smiled his dimply smile and reached for the tub of ice cream to take away. “You doing okay, baby?” He chuckled trying to pop the spoon out of your mouth, wriggling it back and forth and swaying your head until you decided to let go.

“No, I’m mad at you,” there wasn’t much bite to the statement.

Chan pecked your forehead and ventured off to put the ice cream away, “oh yeah? Wanna tell me why so I can fix it?” He returned to stand behind you and lean over the back of the couch, wrapping his arms around your neck and nuzzling his cheek into the top of your head.

Upset but still wanting the physical touch, you pulled his arms tighter, “dream you cheated on me.”

He popped his head around the side of yours to come face to face with a look of genuine shock. “Did he?!” Chan hopped over the back of the couch to sit next to you.

“Yeah. I caught you in our bed and everything. Then you broke up with me and posted the bitch on your instagram the next day.” You huffed and pushed him away with no force, turning to lean on the armrest and lay your legs over his lap. Chan rested his head on your knees, looking at you with his big puppy dog eyes that never failed to make you melt.

“I thought I taught him better than that,” he gently scolded. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Is that why you didn’t kiss me back when I left this morning?

You nodded. “And why you weren’t answering my texts?” Another nod. “And why you can’t look at me because you know how ridiculous that sounds?”

You were half way through nodding for a third time when you caught his words, “hey! It’s not ridiculous! It could be a premonition, I could be psychic and get into fortune telling with how accurate I am.”

Chan closed his eyes and let his hands wander up and down your calves, lightly dragging his lips across the bare skin of your knees as he spoke, “mhm, mhm. Or it means that it’s never gonna come true. I like to think that, instead.”

It was getting harder to be mad when the feeling of his breath fanning over your skin made goosebumps rise, he loved watching the way your body reacted to him. It was never hard for him to work you up, physically and emotionally. Chan thrived on the effect he has over you, but it’s a two way street and you live for the way he’d do anything to please you. Even if it means apologizing for something he didn’t really do. In this reality, at least.

You wanted to be mad so bad that you debated on throwing him off you entirely, however his lips were just too plush looking and you craved to feel them on your own. Chan took his time to work them higher up your legs, eventually laying them and sticking his head under the hem of his hoodie you wore. He tugged you to lay flat so he could have more area to trace his pretty lips cross, the thoughts of being upset almost totally dissipating under his touch. Your leg instantly wrapped around his torso, to which he grinded lightly into the cushion. His hair tickled your bare chest as he peppers kisses across your belly, hands roaming your back to keep you near. He didn’t move as sexually as one might’ve thought from an outside perspective, it wasn’t to get into your nonexistent pants, you just got him so horny.

So horny to the point where he would’ve kept grinding against the couch if you didn’t feel like relieving him, he would’ve taken it like a champ if you denied him. You never do, though, as if you had the impulse control to ever tell him no.

Chan kept his movements slow, intentional, with the purpose of getting you to relax and see how much he loves you and how much an asshole dream-him was for cheating on dream-you. Big hands moved down to cup your ass under the fabric of your underwear, teething lightly above your belly button then soothing over the bite with his fat tongue. The wet muscle laved over the sore spots with the tip of his tongue, then flattening it, the tip, then flat again, alternating like he would if it were your pussy and were trying to get you to cum.

You wanted that, you always wanted his tongue on you. But now, you needed this more. The closeness and being able to keep him where only you can love and appreciate.

It felt so stupid to even be thinking that way, stupid that you had pulled such childish acts instead of just telling him in the first place. If you had just asked to be coddled, he would’ve given it to you without a second thought.

Chan needed this as much as you did, little to your knowledge. He could feel how off you were in the morning but really just didn’t have the time to fix it at that moment. It stung his heart hearing what dream-him did to dream-you, he couldn’t possibly imagine putting you through that, let alone move on so quickly if you ever were to actually break up.

No, he couldn’t even bear the thought of leaving you, it hurt too much.

His heart hurt for you, he could see the pain all over your face when he got home and it wasn’t even real life. Chan would rather die than ever let you go through something like that in this reality. In your dreams, well, there isn’t much he can do other than what he’s doing now.

Leaving chaste kisses anywhere along your torso he could, massaging your ass with his nimble fingers while heavily breathing in the scent of your skin. The quiet moans you were trying to suppress made him smile, able to feel your muscles tightening and loosening beneath his fingertips. He felt so warm against you, you wanted to thread your fingers through his hair and tried to from over the hoodie. Chan mumbled incoherently in protest and tugged the hem over his head again when you tried to tug it up.

“Wanna be close to you,” he murmured, going back to rubbing his cheek to your belly. You could only giggle and let him.

This was just Chan. Just purely and entirely him. Doing nothing and everything at the same time and making you melt into the palm of his hand, you’d forgotten why you were mad until he spoke again.

“Can’t believe I’d do that,” the barrier of material made it hard to hear him.

“Hm?” You hummed.

He slithered a little higher up your chest and you pulled the neckline to peak down into the dark shadows of the hoodie. You could see just one of his pretty brown eyes peering up at you sweetly, “who in their right mind would do that to you?”

Chan rested his cheek on your chest and stayed there, arms enclosing around your torso. “Dream-you did. And it really sucked.”

He whined this time, higher in pitch and wiggling to get comfortable. Your head back against the couch, you closed your eyes and let yourself calm down before you got worked up again. Chan could hear your heartbeat speed up, placing another soft kiss to the skin above it. You shivered and draped your arms over the back of his shoulders to succumb entirely to the feeling. Just as you finally relaxed, warmth engulfed your left nipple, wet and hot and being suckled into his mouth like a pacifier. “I’m trying really hard to be mad,” you admit while smiling to yourself, out of his field of vision.

“Please, don’t be,” he pleaded, “I’ll never hurt you. I’ll destroy anyone who tries.” It sounded silly coming from his mouth considering it was full of your tit, you couldn’t help a gentle laugh.

A few more moments of him playing with your breast, then switching to the other with no regard for the wet sounds that emitted from his suckling, you couldn’t take not seeing him anymore. You sat up as much as he’d let you and tucked your arms into the body of the hoodie, pulling your head through the neckline just enough so that the two of you were pressed chest to chest under the material.

It was dark and hot, you weren’t sure how he was able to stand being underneath it for so long. You couldn’t totally see him, but you knew he was looking at you– or at least, attempting to. You felt for his cheeks and held him just millimeters away, feeling his calm breathing over your chin. In almost total darkness, unable to see but could feel each other entirely, he whispered, “you’re safe with me. You’ll always be safe with me.”

You pulled him into you, savoring the fragile way he always tended to kiss you when you were particularly emotional, scared as if he’d break you. Handle with care, your heart said, and he did just that and more. Delicate. Do not touch, written outside the glass case he envisioned you in whenever something went even remotely in the opposite direction you wanted. It wasn’t that you needed the protection, by no means were you unable to handle yourself, but you invoked something in him that he couldn’t control. Fortunately for him, you let him smother you and baby you and wrap you in bubble wrap so tight you couldn’t breathe because it felt good to be seen. It felt good to be loved, and loved by him.

It was getting more and more difficult not to rut your hips against him, any part of him because he made you that insatiable. Chan could feel you trying to restrain and laughed against your lips.

“What if I want you to break me?” He glitched for a second, then went back to kissing you with a little more intensity.

“Then, I’ll just have to put you together again.” You ripped the hoodie away, leaving you naked in his hold aside from the underwear you were soaking through. “And break you, put you together again, and again, and again until you’re begging for me to stop.”

You felt the wave of butterflies flutter right between your legs and caved.

“Fuck– take me to the bedroom.”

Chan stood just to throw you over his shoulder effortlessly, entirely too excited for either of your own good. It wasn’t until now that you noticed he was still in those uncomfortably tight jeans he left in this morning, your mouth watered at the timely prospect of getting him out of them. You just couldn’t stop yourself from sending a light smack to his ass as he walked through the bedroom door, and he reciprocated with an even harder one to the bare skin of your own.

He laid you down gently just to cover your body with his own once again, not letting you strip him without your tongues laving against one another's. His shirt came off first, tossing it towards the headboard, your underwear, then his pants. Chan stopped you from reaching for his underwear so he could tease you, barely tugging the elastic down his hips and letting his erection catch in the fabric until he finally let it slap against his lower belly erotically.

Chan let them fall to the floor before kneeling tall onto the bed, “turn around,” he instructed. You followed and faced the headboard, seeing him reach around for his discarded shirt. Just barely could you feel his hot breath against your neck, “are you sure this is what you want tonight, baby?”

You hummed with desperation, “break me. Lovingly, please.”

Leaving a small peck to your cheek for reassurance, Chan grabbed your arms harshly and brought them behind your back. He used his forgotten shirt as a makeshift restraint, keeping you bound and tied up with no way of being able to touch him, you wondered what it was he had in store that required it.

Once he finished he sat opposite of you, falling on his back and watching the process of your mouth watering over seeing him in the perfect cock-sucking position. The redness of his tip, you would’ve thought it was painful if you didn’t know better. No, that’s a lie– it was painful. Painful watching you be so pretty and worked up and he was fighting the urge with everything in him not to untie you and lay you in the sheets like the pillow princess you so rarely got to be.

But it wasn’t what you wanted. What you wanted was to not think, be serviced and be of service, used to please. Tonight needed to end with you feeling weightless and not an ounce of sadness or anger left lingering to be found.

“Break you lovingly?” Chan called, tucking an arm under his head while the other stroked himself slowly. He swiped the bead of precum, beckoning you over with a single finger and forcing his thumb past your lips to taste. You hummed at the salty bitterness, the weight of him on your tongue and could feel yourself salivating. “Which do you want first, doll? Break you, or love you?”

Judging from the way you were practically drooling down his wrist, he took your lack of response as the former.

Stealing his thumb away, a thread of spit following, Chan laid back down and put both hands behind his head. “Go ahead. Be a good doll and suck.”

You folded so fast that it made him chuckle with pride knowing you were wanting him as much as he wanted you. Licking and twirling your tongue around the tip like hard candy, taking in as much of him as possible. Your own spit dripped down your chin and filled your mouth like a perfect hole.

Chan started to stutter up into you the further down you went. The more of him you took in, the harder it got not to thrust up. By the time you’d gotten to the point of lightly gagging, he was biting his lip to keep from losing all control. But then you looked up at him, eyes big and watery, tears already rolling down your cheek and you couldn’t even wipe it away. Nope, all self control completely obliterated by that single look. That fucking look, Chan physically felt his chest cave like crumbling sand between his fingers.

“I’ll fucking break you, baby. Don't worry your pretty little head, I’ll make you forget.” You couldn’t reply with his thick cock in your mouth, but could see you approve with the little nods you managed to give. “Be a good cocksleeve, yeah? Make me feel good.”

You took him as deep as you could, stilled as soon as your nose hit his pelvis and thought that was good enough since he groaned, loud and deep from within his chest. But you looked up at him again, this time just as the tears fell from your lash line. Chan tangled both hands in your hair and hooked his legs over your shoulders, cock still buried down your throat. He locked his ankles around the back of your head and pushed himself that much deeper to get you to gag harder. The sound that he emitted resembled that of a bear, hearty, unrestrained, feeling.

Oh, how he felt you. Felt the constricting of your throat around him, felt your tongue fighting to make room for you to breathe and failing, felt your tears wet the skin of his pelvis. Nothing but your safe word could have stopped him from pulling you off his cock for a split second to inhale a deep breath, then shoving you back down to abuse your throat like it was just a toy. For now, you were just a toy– his toy.

Lewd and adulterous squelching of your mouth slicking up and down his cock filled the room, overridden just by Chan’s moans of pleasure and your light humming to vibrate up his shaft. He was kind for a few moments– as kind as he could have been in this position, and eventually gave up seeing as you could still fight back. His lazy pushes and pulls of guiding your head up and down turned into him rutting up into your mouth in quick jabs, utilizing the headlock he had you in as leverage to move at what could have been neck breaking speed. His hands held you firmly in place as Chan did all the work now, focused on nothing but his own pleasure as your tears and spit mixed to puddle around his throbbing cock.

You were a gagging, crying mess and you loved every second. So much so that you spread your knees and tried to rub your puffy clit into the bunched up sheets. A few more upthrusts of his tip hitting the back of your throat, Chan let you go entirely. Without the stability of him holding you up, your weak body tilted to the side as you gasped for air, hips slightly twitching from the immense need built up.

He took a second to regain his composure while you caught your breath. Chest still heaving up and down, Chan forgot that your hands were still tied, wondering why you weren’t jumping his bones the second he let you free. Sitting up, he tilted his head at you with a sympathetic smile, “sweet doll, I haven’t even done anything to you yet. Anything left in here?” He mockingly tapped the side of your temple, to which it went unacknowledged. You just wanted him on you again, whining and trying to wriggle closer to him. “Hm, guess not. Did my job, didn’t I? Didn’t take very much effort, baby. You love me that much? Or you’re just a cockhungry doll.”

Through the soreness in your jaw, you managed to whisper, “l–love you.”

Chan chuckled, “I know you do. Love my sweet doll, too.” He leaned over to kiss your forehead, ignoring the way you puckered your lips for more. Chan manhandled you to the center of the bed, keeping you on your side with arms still restricted from touching.

There was nothing you could do but let him do what he wanted with you, but this was the lovingly part. This, although bound on your end, was where he showed you everything he couldn’t tell you. This was the putting you back together part, the safe with me part, the dream-me can go fuck himself because you deserve the best dicking down ever part.

And could you tell that’s what all of this was? Absolutely. Could you do anything about it? Not a chance. You couldn’t touch him, couldn’t form coherent sentences, couldn’t do anything but babble love you, love you, and more love you’s.

Chan pushed your hair from your sweaty forehead, memorizing your features for just a second before he lost himself again. Then straightening out your bottom leg for him to straddle while resting the top in the crook of his arm and aligning his cock at your entrance, just teasing your clit with the tip and spreading the perpetually leaking beads of cum. He would dip into your hole, hear you whimper, then pull away and do it all over again to keep you in a constant state of frustrated that he wouldn’t just fuck you already.

It was because fucking you wasn’t what he wanted, he hated calling it that. If it were anyone but you, calling sloppy sex for what it is wouldn’t have bothered him. But you weren’t just anyone, he wouldn’t dare call you anything less than what you deserved and that applied in the bedroom as well. That was, of course, aside from when you truly asked for it.

Even the sloppiest of sex with you wouldn’t be classified as just fucking. He felt every inch of you in every single one of his nerve endings, in his veins, pumping the blood through his heart straight down to the tip of his cock. Chan felt a little dumb just looking at you, like he’d lost his mind at the mere scent of your arousal, he felt like a lovesick puppy and if you’d ever decide to leave him, he’d die of a broken heart.

God, he loves you. He said it as he finally pushed into your pulsing, wet hole. He said it as he came to the hilt, he said it as he slipped the bondage off your wrists, as he grabbed your hand to hold and as he began to lazily thrust in and out, searching for the spot that would make you cry so hard you’ll pass out as soon as you cum.

And you did cry, not just from how good you felt physically but because even if he wasn’t mindlessly telling you how much he loved you, you could see it in the way he looked at you. He wasn’t looking anywhere but your face, straight into your eyes in a stare so intense it should’ve been uncomfortable. It was anything but, you shed a tear every time you blinked to see him still looking at you like he was sure you were the last thing he’d ever see.

God, you love him. You said it as your hand held his for dear life, as he pummeled the soft spot within you that made you see stars through the tears, you said it as you were curling your toes and arching your back at an unholy angle. You said it as coherently as possible as the butterflies in your belly swept you into a whirlwind of pleasure, as you milked him for everything he had, as you came back down to earth somehow laying on his chest and not at all in the same position as when the orgasm hit.

Gentle beating of his heart in his chest stirred you from the light daze you had fallen into, you don’t even remember doing it. “Hey there,” his chest rumbled. Chan kissed the top of your head, your forehead, then moved to lay your head in the pillows so he could kiss your lips.

As he tucked your hair behind your ear, you finally got to brush your fingers through his curls, so soft and pretty. His eyes closed as your nails raked across his scalp, letting his forehead fall against yours. The rumbling of his chest made you smile, “you purr like a cat,” you said through the sore scratch in your throat.

“Cats ward off evil. Real me is shooing away the nightmares for good. Let me purr.” Chan let you tug his head against his chest with a content him falling from your lips, where his purring turned into soft snores as the exhaustion finally hit him.

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tags: @sensitiveandhungry @babebatter @changbinluvr @epiphanynaffit @fawnpeaks @linovely @dumplinbokkieracha @finnydraws @naturules @djeniryuu @hamburgers101 @skzhomiehopper @yesv01 @hyunjinsamdl @dazzlingligth @lvrhyuka @alexis-reads-fics @linaliskz @0002linoskitten @chillichillicrabcrab23 @zerefdragn33l @straycrescent @binnies-donuts @soldierstangirl-blog @bakedlilgoonie @levanterlily @shelbyyy44 @yeetmehome @in2heartz @astroodledream @the-sweetest-rose @goblinracha @lilbugs-things @viviennenstan @staurdvst @alex--awesome--22 @imzenning @jeyelleohe @iadorethemskz @skyvastbunny @mamabymychem @katsukis1wife @woozarts @noellllslut

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babygorewhore · 8 months

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Daddy issues

After your dad is arrested, you try and beg for his job back. But Rafe Cameron decides another way for you to help your father. And his arrangement is different than you imagine.

Warnings! Daddy kink! Talks of violence! Slight reference to abuse! Choking! Blow job! Rough unprotected sex! Breeding kink! Virginity loss! Dirty talk!

You didnt know if you were more angry or surprised when you got the call from the officer that your dad was arrested and currently in jail for assault. You were finished working your late shift at the restaurant when your phone rang.

You screamed in your car on the way to the station. Your dad was a dead beat. An asshole who didn’t know how to fucking control his temper. Daddy dearest also liked to get loud with you, throw things when he didn’t get his way and one time he slapped you in the face.

You slapped him back and threatened to slash his tires. But the threat was empty considering he needed to work, which you had no idea how he kept his job at the docks while working for Rafe Cameron. It used to be his father Ward until his suicide. You’d met him often while picking your dad up, given you had to share a car.

He was…polite you could say. But he was also scary. He glared at everyone and he was short tempered. You usually heard him snapping or yelling if something wasn’t done right. Your dad complained about how strict he was.

But his status and wealth made everyone obey him and intimidated you. His attractiveness however was on another level. His height made you feel small and his blue eyes cut through people.

You slammed the door at the station and went to the desk. After signing in, you tapped your foot impatiently as an officer came up to you.

“Are you…?”

“My dad is here. He just got arrested.” You ground out. You hated being here. She nodded and looked at paperwork in front of her.

“Are you here to post bail?”

“I’m here to see if there’s any way we can clear this up as a misunderstanding.” You tried to plead but she shook her head.

“Ma’am, he attacked a man at a stoplight. He beat him up to the point he lost one of his teeth.”

You pressed your head against your hand. Jesus Christ it was worse than you thought. “How much is bail?”

She looked again at the paperwork. “Looks like we’re at 6,000 dollars.”

“What? I thought the bail was lower than that!” You shrieked.

“Ma’am. He also had multiple charges. Public intoxication, disturbance and assault. He caused a lot of trouble. I suggest you alert his job tomorrow. But until then, he’s going to spend at least 60 days in jail.”

You started crying. You couldn’t help it. It hurt so much. You couldn’t get a break. And now you’d have to face Rafe Cameron and face the humiliation of your dad being in jail.

You cried on and off the next day as you had to switch your schedule to the evening and make the phone call to your dads manager about his current situation. It was immediate termination and you broke down even harder in your bedroom. You refused to take his phone call, afraid you’d explode on him.

As you got ready for another dreaded work shift, your phone started ringing to a number you didn’t recognize. Hesitantly, you answered.

“Hello?”

“Your dads in jail, huh?” You immediately froze. It was Rafe’s voice. How did he-well he was capable of finding anything out.

“I-um. Yes. And he can’t work for you anymore. But if you’ll please reconsider. I know he’s a piece of shit but this is the only job he’s lasted out and we desperately need the money. I’m trying to get a car and we have to share one. I know this is probably pointless but I can’t help but try. So please, please take him back.” More tears came and you felt like a total cry baby but you pushed through.

You expected him to laugh but instead silence met you.

You bit your lip hard enough it bled.

“Meet me at my house. I’ll text you the address. I have a proposition for you.”

“Why can’t you tell me over the phone?” Your stomach tightened.

“Do you want me to help you or not?”

“Yes. Of course. I’ll be there.”

“Good girl.”

You set the phone down but seconds later his address came through in a text and your breath stopped short. He wanted to see you after work.

Five minutes before closing and after you finished cleaning, the drive to Rafe’s house wasn’t that far and now you knocked on his door. When he answered, you tried not to reveal how much you found him attractive. His hair was in his face and his eyes were glazed as he looked down at you. His fingers twitched and you imagined what he was doing with that hand…

Rafe gestured with his head for you to come in and you followed him inside the massive penthouse. He had everything you imagined. Expensive furniture, floors and lights.

You followed him to the kitchen where he pointed to the bar stool. “Have a seat.” He muttered.

You obeyed and watched as he circled the island in the center of the room. “So. You wanna save your dads job?”

“Yes. I’m willing to do anything-“ You stopped short when a smirk fell on his face.

“Anything?” Rafe challenged. “It looked like you hated him whenever I saw you talk to him.”

“It’s complicated.” You replied and his smirk grew into a cruel smile.

“Looks like someone has daddy issues.” Rafe countered and you crossed your arms.

“I-well when you put it that way-“

“I’m just bringing up what you’re telling me. Your dad beats the shit out of someone. He went to jail-and now you’re doing anything you can to fix it. Tell me if I missed anything.” Rafe’s voice was low and you hated that he was right.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound pushy. I’m just in a tight spot.”

“Oh I’m sure you’re in a…tight spot.” His meaning was clear and you swallowed.

That was the exchange.

“Look at you. Being a little smart girl and figuring it out. I’m gonna get to the point. You want me to take him back? Bail him out? I get to fuck you. Anywhere. Anytime. And anyplace I want. No condoms. No hidden birth control. No. I wanna see my cum leak out of that desperate pussy.”

Your mouth opened and closed. “I can’t just fuck a stranger. And no birth control? I can’t fucking get pregnant.”

“I’m a selfish whore, baby. And I can afford one. And those are my terms. Either that. Or your dad rots.”

You bit your lip. You weren’t in a position to say no. You needed the money. And Rafe was hot. There were worse guys. Rafe got closer, his big hands reaching to cup the side of your neck.

“Yeah? You want it?”

Slowly, you nodded.

Rafe crooked a finger, signaling you to come closer. You stepped down and approached him gingerly and looked into his gaze. Rafe then latched his hand around your throat. His grip was so strong your feet almost lifted in the air and your eyes widened as he crushed his lips to yours.

His lips devoured you as he shoved his tongue into your mouth. You weren’t experienced. Sure, you’d touched yourself and made out with people.

But actual fucking? You’d never done that. And you knew that was about to change.

“You want me to take care of you, don’t you?” Rafe loosened his hold on your neck and pressed you against the island counter, “need someone to be your daddy?”

Your hands flew to his chest as you brought him impossibly closer, his lips sucked your skin with bruising force. You opened your mouth as he slipped his fingers inside.

“Suck.” He commanded and you listened. Spit gathering on your lips as he kneed your legs apart and lifted you up on the counter.

“Need daddy to help you? Fill you up with my cum?” His dirty words made your cunt twitch as he started toying the end of your skirt. Your thighs dampened as he trailed his thick fingers along your flesh, his fingers grazing the wet patch of your underwear.

You started grinding to give any friction against your arousal as he apparently changed his mind and threw you to the ground by underneath your arms. Rafe gestured to the crotch of his pants. “Consider this your first payment, baby. You ever done this before?”

You shakily remained silent as he huffed an amused laugh.

“Really? A girl who’s such a perv that she’s willing to fuck someone giving her money? Never would have guessed. I guess I’ll be nice and help you.”

Rafe undressed his lower half, his cock leaked with precum and he took your hand. “Swipe it with your thumb, get it all wet.” His massive hand compared to yours was almost comical as he grabbed the back of your head.

“Open your mouth, princess. And remember to breathe through your nose.”

After that, he silenced whatever worries you had by shoving his dick forward. You run your tongue along the thick underside, lessening some of the heavy weight by massaging with your hand. You took the tip through your mouth, shoving down any nerves as you sucked. Rafe bobbed your head up and down as he pushed you further, your head bouncing as your eyes squeezed shut.

“No, no, open your slutty eyes and look at me.” He growled. He leaned over the arch of the space between the counter and where you sank on your knees. The skin of his cock was supple as you continued aiding with your hand. It was hot to the touch.

“Good fucking girl. Maybe I’ll reward you by fucking your pussy.” He started thrusting and hitting the back of your throat. “Breathe. Breathe through your nose.” He wiped a few tears away with his thumb as you listened to him.

You knew he was getting closer as he stopped talking, his breathing heavier as he moved your head. His cum spilled inside your mouth, as he released you and you coughed.

“Not bad for your first time. We’re gonna practice some more.” Rafe smirked as his face was flushed and his fist flexed.

He moved on top of you on the floor, hiking up your skirt and ripping off your panties. He spread apart your wet cunt and dipped his middle finger inside your clenching entrance. “You’re such a whore. Never done any of this and you’re already gonna cum. Should have known you’d be daddy’s cum slut.”

Rafe yanked your legs apart, and spit on your pussy. “Not that it needed it, but I’m gonna be a little more kind to you.” You shrieked as he grabbed your jaw.

“Are you on birth control?”

“No.” You quickly answered. “Never-never needed-“

“Good. And you’re not going to. Got it?” Rafe moaned as he pushed his tip in your pussy, “fuck you’re so tight.”

You winced from discomfort but then his knuckles hit your clit, aiding to relieve your tension as he circled them. “Gonna make you mine. Take you away from all that shit.” He grunted as he pushed further.

Rafe let you wrap your arms around his neck as he thrusted.

“Tell daddy you like it.”

“I like it.” You sobbed as he moved harder. “I like it, daddy.”

It was slightly shameful how quickly you came all over him and spilled onto your legs. Rafe also came again and you felt it inside you. He was serious about no protection.

He stayed for a few seconds before getting up. And pulling his pants back on. He extended his hand and pulled you up. You knew you were a sight to be seen, fucked out eyes and messy hair. You just lost your virginity to Rafe Cameron.

You cleared your throat and watched him sweep his eyes over your face. “So. My dad?”

He shrugged. “He’s already out.”

You paled. “What?”

“I posted bail a few minutes before you got here. But as for his job, you’re gonna have to work harder than that. I have conditions.”

“But I already said-“

“More than just fucking you, baby girl. I own you now. You are mine and no one gets to even think about fucking you. I will cross any line you make to keep me away. And if you try, I will punish you.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong.” You whimpered as he loomed over you.

“And?” He mocked. “You already agreed. You need me. Don’t you?” He cupped your jaw. Tightly but not as harsh.

“Yeah.” You leaned in to his touch. Your defenses are completely down. You needed care. You were always working. Always cleaning up after someone’s mess. And now…he was going to take care of you.

And either make your daddy issues better.

Or worse.

@xxhellfirebunnyxx @imyourdaninow @lesservillain @take-everything-you-can @slvt4jamesmarch @ifeeltoofuckingmuch @scene-and-dandylover @emsgoodthinkin

#rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe imagine #rafe smut #rafe fanfiction #rafe x you #rafe obx #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x female reader #Rafe Cameron imagine #Rafe Cameron series #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron outer banks #outerbanks rafe #rafe fic

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no-144444 · 2 months

Text

mistakes and miscalculations- c.leclerc

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

pairing: charles leclerc x fem! reader

summary: a fight and a mistake leads to something worse.

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

You hadn’t had a worse day in months, no- years. Fuck this. Work was a mess, everyone was blaming you for something you didn’t do, and you and Charles weren’t exactly communicating. He’d said something a few days earlier, something about you not having as hard a job as him. Which, granted, was true. He was a racecar driver, you worked in marketing, but it didn’t mean that your work was any less important. Hell, work was where you two had met. You were his publicist when you’d started dating. So yes, it rubbed you the wrong way and you’d decided to sleep on the couch instead of being with him. He didn’t take kindly to that, and hadn’t spoken a word to you in 4 days. Yay. He texted you, small messages consisting of “I got here safe” or “sleep tight xxx” and things like that. But Friday nights were your date night, even when it was a race weekend. But 8pm came and went and there was no call on your phone.

Oh.

It was fine. You didn’t need to talk to him. Did you miss him greatly? Yes. Were you over the entire argument? Yes. Was he? Evidently not.

You lay in bed awake for a few hours as you thought over everything. Maybe you had been too harsh, he was stressed, especially since he was unsure about the strategy the team had given him for the weekend ahead. But… he didn’t need to be so mean about things. Your work was important, and to have him just brush it off like that, in the way he did, when all you were trying to do was express how overworked you were, it all made you feel… unheard. It wasn’t a nice feeling.

Your phone started ringing at 4am in Monaco, meaning it was 9pm in Austin. You picked it up without looking, just hoping it wasn’t something important.

“Y/n?” It was Charles. “I know it’s early, my love.”

“Charles?” You yawned. “I thought you were still and at me.”

He sighed. “I thought I was, but then I realised I just felt guilty for saying what I did, and not talking to you was more a punishment for myself. I’m sorry about what I said, and what I didn’t say.”

You sighed, lying. “It’s fine Charles.”

You were still not over the fight, it had cut you deep, what he had said. “Your job doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, why is your boss getting so worked up about you not coming to Austin?”

It broke your heart. Charles had always been so supportive, but the moment he got stressed, you were suddenly not important. Right.

“I’m sorry I missed date night,” he added sheepishly. You hadn’t missed that in 8 months. He broke the streak.

“I waited for an hour and a half,” you chuckled sadly. “Even then I couldn’t sleep.”

He let out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Good luck tomorrow,” you sighed. “I’ll be rooting for you from Monaco.”

“My love?-“

“Oh and tell Arthur ‘good luck’ too, and sorry that I couldn’t be there in person for his debut. I’m just swamped with my unimportant work over here.”

And with that you hung up the phone, breaking your 1 year streak of always saying ‘sleep tight’ at the end of a phone call. You were irritated, irritated due to the nerve he had to call you like that. Sometimes you wondered if all the praise he got went too far to his head and gave him a superiority complex, but another part of you just knew that was your irritation getting the better of you.

You went back to sleep, far too tired to think about what you’d just done.

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

“She hung up,” he sighed. “She hung up without saying goodbye.”

“Are you two breaking up?” Arthur questioned, sitting on his older brother's bed as he slowly fell apart. He’d never not spoken to you for this long, it was becoming embarrassing how upset he was. How could he let this happen? You were one of the best things in his life, if not the best thing. “If you are, I do not think I would recover.”

Charles scoffed. “We are not breaking up,” he took a deep breath. “We are just… arguing. Like adults.”

“You called her job unimportant! That’s a childish thing to say,” Ollie shrugged. Kimi nodded his head, agreeing.

“And a pretty mean thing to say,” Kimi added. “Especially when her job is so important to you.”

Charles groaned. “I know I messed up!” He groaned again. “I just need to figure out a way to get her to forgive me.”

“Grand gesture! Like in the movies!” Kimi cheered, Arthur and Ollie agreeing. “Bring her to the race and give her a holiday from work!”

Charles thought about it for a moment. You did need a break, there was no doubt about it. “That’s not a terrible idea.”

“Exactly!” Arthur smiled. “Do that, and she’ll love you again!”

Charles smiled. “I’ll call her now-“

“No! You have to make it like… an emergency! And then she’ll rush here and you’ll have a date set up,” Ollie thought as the other boys nodded their heads.

“I feel like she’d get stressed-“ Charles said but Ollie was already busy thinking about ways to get you to Austin.

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

“What Ollie?” You answered your phone as you drew up yet another plan for the marketing strategy your boss had already made you redo twice,

“Thank god you answered!” Ollie sighed a sigh of relief. “Charles is broken up about your break up, we’ve tried everything-“

“What?” You gasped. You and Charles hadn’t broken up, had you? No. Neither of you wanted to break up, right? You didn’t. Did he? “We didn’t break up.”

“We tried to tell him that, but he doesn’t believe us. He thinks you blocked him. Can you… come to Austin? He doesn’t think he’ll drive in this state, he’s devastated.”

You sighed. “I’ll book a flight for tonight. See you soon.”

“Thanks Y/n.”

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

As far as a hellish week goes, that must’ve been the worst in your life. Shitty work week, Charles and you fighting, then the flight to Austin Texas that you barely got on because of course your boarding pass wouldn’t print.

You weren’t over the fight, at all, but you and Charles definitely weren’t breaking up. You’d never want that, no matter how annoyed you were. If it took a flight from Monaco to Austin in the middle of an argument, at the end of a shitty week to prove your love, well that’s what you had to do.

You sat, staring at your battery as it slowly dwindled away and your music played on, but it sadly was not enough to drown out the noise of the sobbing baby beside you. Maybe you should’ve let Charles buy you the noise-cancelling headphones he was going to get you as a ‘just-because’ present, instead of the wired headphones you’ve had since you were in college, that had finally decided to die on you, mid-flight. You weren’t going to admit he was right when he said “those things will break on you at the worst time!”, you were just going to thank him when he eventually came home with them after a race, probably being gifted them by some random company. Your apartment had started to look more and more like a shop, rather than a house, it was another major pressure point of your relationship. It drove you crazy, the disorganisation and the constant influx of things that you two could never keep up with, and Charles didn’t seem to be too bothered by it. That had made its way into the fight too. God, what hadn’t?

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

Touching down in Austin was as glamorous as one would imagine. You were tired, hungry (you couldn’t stomach aeroplane food), and you were pissed off. Why did this have to happen this week? The one week you were just looking forward to being alone all weekend.

You adored Charles, but sometimes we all need some alone time, and this weekend was going to be that. You needed a break from being yourself, for being a chief marketing officer, and from being Charles Leclerc’s girlfriend. You just needed a moment of silence, was that too much to ask for?

You met Arthur outside the airport, and he wrapped you up in a hug as he smiled, happy you’d made it.

“Hey Arth,” you sighed, exhausted.

“Hey Y/n,” he smiled. “Thank you for coming, he really needs you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you nodded. “Let’s go, I’m exhausted.”

You fell asleep in the car on the way to the track, beyond tired from your travels. You woke up about a minute before Arthur pulled into the Ferrari hospitality, and you were practically a zombie when you grabbed your bags and followed Arthur up to Charles’s room.

“Baby?” You asked, eyes closed from exhaustion. You were barely standing up, shocked you were even still awake.

“Is that you?” Charles’s voice rang through your ears.

“Yeah baby, open the door,” you smiled lazily. You missed him. It was hard not to.

The door swung open to reveal… a candle-lit dinner and Charles?

What the fuck?

“Baby!” He cheered, pulling you into him, pressing kisses to your cheek and neck. “Surprise!”

You didn’t answer. No way he made you fly all the way to Austin, faked thinking you two were breaking up, and all for a fucking dinner? No way. This was a joke. This was some sick and twisted joke.

“Baby?” His smile slightly faded. “Are you ok?”

You couldn’t stop it. Exhaustion, stress, anxiety, anger, everything. It all tipped over and you started crying. In his arms. You buried your face in his shoulder and his arms wrapped around you in an instant, closing the door to give you two some privacy.

“Baby,” he cooed. “What’s wrong?”

And that was the last straw. What was wrong?

You pushed him off, wiping your eyes as any and all exhaustion was replaced with adrenaline.

“What’s wrong?” You cried, a twisted smile on your face. “What’s wrong so that my boyfriend is psychotic and decided it would be a great idea to make me think that we were breaking up and making me fly to fucking Austin for a dinner. Charles. That’s my fucking problem. The same boyfriend that called my job unimportant when I was trying to tell him that I was beyond stressed about it, my headphones broke on the flight, a baby was crying beside me, and I’m exhausted!” You sobbed.

He looked down, disappointed with his own actions. He knew how this would go, and yet he let 3 teenagers talk him into it. How stupid was he?

“And the worst part is,” you continued. “Is that I’m not even fucking mad at you! Because I’m just happy that I’m not being broken up with! Because I fucking love you!”

Oh. Oh. Oh.

You loved him. And he’d pulled this. And you said it for the first time. And he’d stressed you out more.

“Baby please-“ he tried to take your hand, but you just slumped against him.

“I’m sorry I slept on the couch, I’ll never do it again. Just please don’t do this to get my attention. You always have my attention.” you sniffled. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he smiled, far too chipper for this specific moment. “You’re tired, let’s talk about this in the morning, yeah?”

You nodded and let him lead you to his bed.

You fell asleep almost instantly and he smiled. At least you two were talking. At least you two were in the same bed. At least you two were in love.

“My love,” he whispered, laying beside you. “I love you.”

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

When you woke up the next morning and despite the obvious tension, you were happy to be Charles’s arms.

“Morning,” he pressed a kiss to your neck.

“Morning,” you rolled over, out of his grasp to look at the clock.

He sighed, crawling towards you. “Can we talk about it?”

“About what?” you turned to him. “The fight? The stunt you pulled yesterday? Our fake break up?”

He scoffed. “I am not the only one at fault here,” he argued. “Our fight is not only my fault.”

You sighed, placing your head in your hands. “I know that. And I’m exhausted, so let's just go our separate ways for the weekend and talk about it after, ok?”

He nodded. “But you’ll still be here, right? You’re not going back home?”

“Not until you are,” you sighed, getting up.

Charles watched as you made your way to the bathroom, stretching as you went. Sometimes, it hit him hard how gorgeous you are, this was one of those times, and he was hit very, very hard.

“Baby?” he called out.

You poked your head out. “Yeah?”

“Come here,” he gestured for you to come closer, and was a little surprised when you obliged. He sat you on his lap and held you close, resting his head in your neck. “I’m sorry. I was stupid and I’m sorry.”

You nodded, letting go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Ok.”

“And I know what I said was wrong, your job is super important, because we met here, and also because you put your heart into your work. I’m sorry.”

You ran your hands through his hair, a conflicted look on your face. “I’m sorry I brought other things into the fight and slept on the couch.”

You felt him smile as he pressed a kiss to your neck. “And I love you, and I don't want to fight anymore.”

You chuckled. “Me neither.”

He was silent for a minute, just pressing soft, comforting kisses to your neck as he enjoyed having you near him. “So are we ok?”

“We aren’t 100% ok, but we’re getting there,” you explained, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “There’s probably more things we should talk about, but maybe when you don’t have a Gran Prix in a matter of hours? And I love you too.”

His grin widened, and he couldn’t resist pulling you down to properly kiss you for the first time in days.

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

navigation for my blog :)

#f1 fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 x you #formula one imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #f1 smau #f1 social media au #formula one #formula one x reader #formula 1 #formula racing #ferrari #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x female oc

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wlwprker · 3 months

Text

just a weekend - s.r. x fem! reader

a/n: fake dating my beloved, b99 inspired this whole concept i can’t lie😭 minimal proofreading!! i’m still new to writing for spencer so i apologize if it’s not great !! italics indicate flashback!! this was so self-indulgent omg this was longer than i expected (likes, reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!!)

summary: spencer reid had very little “game” as it is but he has had enough of his family asking when he’s bringing someone home and so he blurts out that he has someone… a complete and utter lie. it’s just one weekend, right...?

warnings: swearing, pining, fake dating, suggestive comment, reader has insecurities

w/c: 1,829

spencer walked into the bullpen with his head down looking into the contents of his coffee cup as he walked to his desk in silence.

“good morning!” you greeted him with a big smile, but your smile changed into a look of confusion and worry when he didn’t even glance your way. you sighed and got up from your desk and stood next to his chair.

“spill right now”

spencer knew you would spend hours annoying him until he said something, so he caved.

“my family kept nagging me about a girlfriend again and so i told them that i have one and now they want me to bring her to my cousin’s party this weekend”

you tried so hard not to laugh because oh he got himself into quite the mess.

“oh spencer, that is rough but that does not explain why you didn’t even greet me this morning”, you looked at him with an accusatory glance and his stomach dropped.

“ha-ha funny thing...”

he didn’t even have to say it, you knew and the whole thing made sense. he was awkward because he’d have to ask you to be his fake date for a weekend. that’s why he didn't look at you or speak to you.

“funny joke, spence”

spencer did not even show a sign of joking and you groaned. you weren’t a party person to begin with but attending a party as spencer’s plus one where you had to meet his family as his girlfriend instead of his best friend?

what could possibly go wrong?

“you owe me, i mean it!”

he agreed and thanked you a million times. you ruffled his hair and sent garcia a text and suddenly you were in her office telling her all about the situation.

“babe, don’t you like... adore him?”

you ran your hands through your hair in frustration and that was the moment jj walked in and looked between the two of you with confusion written all over her face. garcia caught her up to speed and jj placed a comforting hand on your shoulder.

this is going to be a long damn weekend.

the dreaded weekend came much too quickly for your liking. you invited all the girls over to help you get ready and to try and ease your nerves.

after sifting through multiple outfit combinations, you finally found the perfect fit and once your makeup was done, everyone cheered and oohed and awed at you.

“spencer is going to trip over himself when he sees you”, garcia exclaimed as she brushed a piece of hair out of your face. you rolled your eyes playfully at her.

“you know he’s like starstruck by you, right?”, emily added as she helped you pick out some jewelry to match.

“he is not, he is just nice!”

all of your friends looked at like you were crazy. you just couldn’t even entertain the possibility that he saw you more than his friend.

now you have to be his fake girlfriend, no big deal!

“hey, if anything happens or you need an excuse to get away, we are all a call away, okay?” garcia reassured you and you were grateful to have such amazing friends.

the sweet moment was interrupted by the sound of someone knocking on the door and your heart dropped.

you took a deep breath and smiled as you opened the door for spencer.

“hi spence, i’m just going to grab my bag and then we can head out”, you told him as he looked at you as if he’s never seen you before.

jj snorted as she saw spencer staring at you like a lovestruck idiot. garcia swatted her arm to keep her quiet.

“wow. y-you look amazing. i mean you always look amazing but wow. you’re just really pretty, like you always are but i- uh woah”

you laughed his compliments off because you could not let yourself even consider for a second that his words ran deeper than a compliment.

spencer kept sneaking glances at you the whole night and it was making you shy.

you pulled up to the venue and that’s when the nerves kicked in. a million questions raced through your head at a mile a minute.

what if i’m not good enough for him? will they still like me as his girlfriend and not his best friend? what if they don’t approve?

spencer put his hand on your thigh and that stopped any new thoughts from coming in.

“hey, they know you; they love you”

“spencer, they love me as your best friend, but girlfriend is new territory”

“sweetheart, it’s going to be okay, i promise, just one weekend”

sweetheart. the pet name made you feel dizzy, he was just trying to reassure you but hearing that fall from his lips made you wish this was real and he was yours.

but he wasn’t.

you didn’t respond and you both got out of the car, and he intertwined your fingers together and your heart was racing, he definitely had to have heard it.

his hand in yours felt so right, as if he was meant to always hold your hand.

this was going to be difficult.

“spencer, thank you for coming! is this the special girl?”

your heart ached at the term “special girl”. why the fuck did you agree to this?

spencer looked over at you and put his arm around your shoulder.

“happy birthday! yes, she is my girl, brought her to meet the family”, spencer said smiling.

he was killing you little by little.

“hopefully she stays after meeting them”, his cousin joked, and you giggled.

spencer was practically glued to you the whole night which was not a problem but when this was over, you were going to yearn for his touch, and you wouldn’t get to have it.

after a while, you met spencer’s family, and they all adored you and were shouting praise at spencer for picking such a good one. the night went better than you expected but you didn’t want this to be over.

just a weekend.

you barely got through a night.

you and spencer said your goodbyes and headed back to your house and all you could think about was how badly you wanted to kiss him.

i mean you’d have to look like a real couple, right? not like you’ve been hopelessly in love with him for a while and you’ve always wanted to know what it was like to kiss him.

“what are you thinking about, sweetheart?”

sweetheart. he is trying to kill you, like genuinely.

“it’s a secret”

“hmm can’t i know?”

you laughed and didn’t respond as you got ready for bed and started to walk towards the couch, but he grabbed your wrist, sending chills through your entire body.

“stay.”

you had to fight every bone in your body from kissing him right there.

two more days of this. for fucks sake.

you silently got into bed next to him and none of you mentioned how you cuddled closer together in the middle of the night.

the events of tonight’s party were still fresh in your mind as if it just happened, but it was hours ago and you were at home turned on your side, thinking about it.

“this is your girl?”

spencer held you closer as he placed a kiss to your hairline, and everyone awed at the sight.

you and spencer spent the whole night laughing, dancing and talking to everyone.

the night had come to an end and spencer stopped in front of the car and you sent him a curious look.

he didn’t say anything. he placed a kiss on your cheek.

you touched your cheek and still felt his lips there, it was a small action, but it left you feeling lightheaded.

the feeling of spencer so close to you in bed felt so right even though you knew, this would all be over soon, and you’d go back to being… friends. the word sent shivers to your whole body.

how were you supposed to go back to being friends after this?

you want to be relieved the weekend is nearly over, but you can’t. not when you’ve gotten a little glimpse into what being with him was like, you wanted it to last.

spencer was actually losing his mind. he did not know if he could handle having you this close without wanting to kiss you, he’s been hopelessly in love with you since the day you brought him his coffee order simply because you know him.

this whole weekend has made him realize that he wants to be with you and not just for a weekend.

he can’t go back to friends after this, he will actually drive himself to an early grave if he has to. he tries so hard to make the night last as long as he could but even, he can’t control time. he is now faced with the reality that at work, you will just be friends again.

spencer can’t take it. he won’t take it.

“wait!” spencer calls out as you start walking to the car. you stop in your tracks.

“why are you so far behind? your legs are longer than mine!”

he laughed at that but made no effort to walk any faster which made you even more confused.

“are you training for the slow walkers marathon? you might just win”, you shouted as you sent him an unamused glance as you pointed to your heels.

he finally caught up to you, but he stopped you from opening the car door.

“spencer! i want to go home, what are you doing?”

“prolonging the night”, he replied with a big smile on his face.

you raised an eyebrow at him but urged him to elaborate.

he didn’t respond which frustrated you. you sighed dramatically and looked at him.

“now you don’t respond? spencerrr, come on!”

“can i kiss you?”

your eyes widened comically like a cartoon character because there was no way this was real life.

“the night is over, spencer, we don’t have to pretend anymore”

“i know but i want to kiss you”

you didn’t know what to say but your eyes spoke all he needed to know.

he cupped your cheeks and pulled you in for a kiss and it was as if the world had stopped for you and him. it was only you and spencer in the middle of a dimly lit street, and it was all you've ever wanted.

you pulled away hesitantly and he smiled at you. neither of you said a word but no words needed to be said. you knew this was bound to happen.

you don’t have to pretend anymore.

“what about the whole dating coworkers thing?”, you teased as you pulled on his tie.

“quiet now”

“make me”

“i don’t think that’s a challenge you’ll win”

you hit his shoulder and he raised his hands in mock defense.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #wlwprker🥀💌

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kamiversee · 6 months

Text

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 49 || The Things You Didn’t Know

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language & semi-heavy angst.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 5.1k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——YOUR HEART WAS racing against your chest as you hurried out of the cafe. Despite the stares you got from people given the recent outbursts, the only thing you focused on was catching up with Choso.

He couldn’t have gotten that far, right? God, you were so nervous. What if he didn’t want to hear you out? What if that’s all it took for him to hate you? What if he never talks to you again?

Did you fuck up? Should you have lied? Was this for the best? Shit, tears were blurring your vision as you ran outside and frantically searched the parking lot for any signs of Choso. If he was gone already would he ever answer a call or text from you again?

Fuck. You can’t do this. Anxiety, fear, and a profound rush of pure angst simply crashed over you.

“F-Fuck,” You breathed out heavily. You tried to stop your crying but the tears kept coming and you really couldn’t spot Choso anywhere, even his car nowhere to be found.

It was cloudy and there was this brisk breeze running over you, a distant ripple in the sky heard as the weather decided to match the vibe of everything that’s just occurred.

You swallowed down the lump in your throat and kept walking into the parking lot nonetheless, refusing to give up just yet. What were you even going to say if you found him? What is there to say-

“Why’d you… Why’d you follow me out here?” Choso’s voice hushed out from your left.

Your feet stumble into a halt and the way your head turned in that direction was instant, quickly laying your eyes on the man who was standing in front of his car door that was parked not too far away from where you stood. You must’ve missed it when you first looked that way due to your tears and distraught way of searching.

Your lips are quivering and your heart is simply beating against your chest, “C-Choso, I-“

The sight of Choso’s hand trembling catches your eyes, the key in his hand just barely held up against the door handle of his car. His other hand was balled into a fist and you couldn’t see his face because his hair had fallen into a mess after the way he rushed out of the cafe.

He’s breathing heavily, panting even, as a sudden dribble of water falls from his face. Was he… Was Choso crying?

“Choso?” You voice out softly. Your tone was shaky and almost sappy as you took careful steps toward him.

“Don’t,” He croaks out. You couldn’t tell if he was crying just yet but his voice was definitely trembling with emotion.

You pause in your steps, merely a few inches away from him. Swallowing you try your best to come up with something to say, “I-I’m sorry-“

Choso sucks in a deep breath of air and suddenly his keys slip out his hand, “Fuck-,” He sighs, bringing an arm up to his face and sniffling.

Despite him telling you not to come closer, you do so anyway, inching toward him before crouching down and picking his keys up. After which, you stand up straight and slide the keys into the pocket of his pants before forcing him to turn his body to you.

Then, you place a gentle hand on his arm and pull it away from his face, coming face to face with his flushed expression, saddened, hurt, and tired eyes, frowning lips, and ragged breathing as tears slip down his cheeks.

The water in your eyes just doubles as you get the full and raw view of Choso Kamo crying. Frowning and quick to take the blame, you squeak out a cracked, “M’sorry. S-Shit, Choso, I-“

He starts shaking his head but he doesn’t look away from you. Instead, Choso gazes down into your eyes and for the first time, his eyes are so very dull and just tired. It was as though everything he just learned had completely drained the usually vibrant brown shade that coated his irises.

He sighs shakily and steps closer to you, the tips of your feet touching one another as he just gazes down at you. Choso was confused, tired, hurt, and drained all at once.

You sniffle, “I’m s-sorry, Choso I-I didn’t-“

“Shut up…” He says. However, his voice is void of anything outside of hurt with hardly any strength or anger remaining. Choso then leans down to you and you try to back away a bit but his arms drape around your waist and he pulls you up against him, tipping his head to the side and nearing your face, “B-Baby,” He rasps out, tears still falling from his eyes.

You don’t even know what to feel right now, “Cho, p-please, I’m sorry. I didn’t know-“

“Stop apologizing,” Choso whispers, “S’not ‘ur fault…” He mumbles.

“B-But…” You stare into his eyes, “I…” You could hardly formulate your words properly, “W-Why’re you crying?”

“C-Cause’ you just…” His expression sinks and never before has Choso allowed himself to be this vulnerable in front of anyone, “T-There was the g-guy from before, then Geto, n-now… Now Sukuna a-and you don’t even know-,” He chokes on his words and squeezes his eyes shut, “Fuck, I c-can’t even… I can’t… I…”

He begins to lose his breath and falls into a state of hyperventilating. Choso’s eyes widen a bit and his breathing is panicked all over the place.

Your hands shoot up to his face and you tilt your head, “Choso, hey, Cho,” You call out softly. His eyes are frantic for a moment. “Heyyy look at me, look at my eyes, Cho.”

He does just barely.

You nod and grin, “T-That’s it, now take a deep breath for me,” You whisper.

He tries, inhaling sharply and then exhaling shakily.

“A bit slower than that, c’mon, you’re okay.” You tell him, wiping the tears from his warm face and keeping your voice calm and collected despite your own emotions being jumbled, “I’m right here, okay?”

He’s nodding, steadily controlling his breathing and blinking as he calms himself down. Swallowing, “I-I don’t what that w-was…” Choso huffs out, unsure of the surge of anxiety that ran through him.

“You had a minor panic attack,” You whisper, pulling his face to yours, “But it’s okay, I’m right here, alright?”

Choso moves his hands over yours and squeezes, “Baby…”

“Hm?” You hum, your mind discarding the fact that you just argued with this same man a moment ago.

It was like what happened with Gojo all over again. Yet, this felt different for some reason.

Choso’s voice is low and timid with you, “I’m s-sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” You hush out, “You didn’t do anything wrong, I-”

Your name is hushed out in an almost fractured tone and Choso removes his hands from yours, moving to hold your waist and pull you closer to him.

You drop whatever it is you were going to say at the sound of your name, “Yes?”

“C-Can you…” Choso hesitates, hating how he feels right now and disliking the fact that you have to see him in such a way, “Uhm…”

“Can I what?” You murmur, “What is it, Choso? Talk to me please.”

He leans down and his arms wrap around your waist, “C-Can you just hold me?”

Wasn’t he just upset with you moments ago? Was he not repulsed and maybe even disgusted by you for a second? Did you not fuck things up? Is he not angry with you-

“P-Please,” Choso begs, trying to hold back the rest of his emotions. Never has he felt so conflicted in his feelings before.

You end up nodding and raising your hands up, wrapping them around his neck and holding him tightly. Choso exhales heavily and he hugs your smaller frame tightly, burying his face into the crook of your neck and shutting his eyes.

You don’t know why he wants to hug you right now. You have no clue why he’s not screaming at you anymore when that’s the very thing you expected him to do.

Hell, the man just told you to leave him out of your drama, and yet here he is in your arms not even ten minutes later. You guess this was some kinda sign. Does this show the levels of how much Choso loves you or does this have something to do with his possessiveness?

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

What you didn’t know was that Choso needed to feel your warmth to center himself once again. You were unaware of the fact that he’d been so insanely tense for the past few hours. It was a build-up that led to his recent outburst.

All of which started about an hour and a half ago when Yuki first approached him. Choso was trying to draw as he stared out the large cafe window, his thoughts ironically on you since you inspire him to no end, before that annoying blonde approached him with that stupid smile on her face.

His mood soured from the second he made eye contact with her and it only worsened when she sat down across from him and started talking, blabbering about god knows what. Choso allowed most of what she said to go through one ear and out the other, only giving her these half-assed responses every now and then.

Then, to make things worse, Yuki started getting comfortable and despite Choso’s dismissive attitude, she sat there talking his ear off for what felt like forever, even going as far as getting herself food and really comforting herself. Sometime after that, you had called him and Choso’s mood lifted only a bit.

He was confused at first since you’re supposed to be taking a break from him but then as he realized he was with Yuki, he started to panic because he knew how this was going to seem to you. Even so, he answered because who is he to ignore a call from you?

And of course, there was your jealousy that came along as Yuki started pestering him during his phone call. Yuki’s intrusion irked Choso to no end but the sound of your voice in his ear, especially with you growing jealous, was able to help Choso calm himself. After all, he knew there was nothing you needed to be jealous over.

Then you told him that you were thinking about changing the status of your relationship with him and Choso was smiling from ear to ear. Just the thought of you coming to him and telling him you were finally ready for a relationship with him made his heart swell. It had meant that he’d won over whoever his competition was.

But of course, Yuki ruined that moment seconds later when she started talking again, to which Choso had taken a nearby water bottle and tossed some of it on her. You obviously didn’t know or see any of that since you were on the phone but Choso had been fed up with the blonde woman.

But, all of that only led to you sounding upset over the phone since he kept bickering with Yuki. This annoyed Choso even more because he was excited to see you and yet Yuki had ruined something that could've been rather sweet.

What you also don’t know is that once you are off the phone, Choso moderately curses Yuki out, telling her how she’s annoying and he wants her to leave. Of course, she didn’t go anywhere, and after more bickering Choso and her made a deal that Yuki would only be able to meet you and then leave.

As things played out, that’s not what happened but Choso wasn’t expecting that.

To make it all worse, Choso had gone to the bathroom after some time and when he came out he saw the cashier’s eyes not on your face in the slightest as your head had been angled up at the menu. You didn’t know it but Choso wasn’t lying when he said Ino was looking like he wanted to fuck you because it was so obvious.

He saw the way Ino ogled you, licked his lips, and then smiled before looking up to the menu as if he wasn’t just checking you out. This bothered Choso for many reasons.

For one, Choso knew he wasn’t your boyfriend so he couldn’t just come up to you and the cashier and call the guy out for his looks because that’d be him crossing boundaries. So instead, he did the only thing he could think of and approached you from behind, soon making direct eye contact with Ino and giving him the same death glare he gives anyone who checks you out.

You’ve scolded Choso about this look in the past but he couldn’t help himself. So that’s why he continued to stare Ino down before pressing himself up against you and placing his hands beside yours. In his mind, you may not have been his girlfriend but god dammit, he wasn’t going to allow anyone to look at you like that when he’s in the vicinity.

Hence the kisses to your neck, the claiming touches to your waist, and the threatening look in his eyes as he mentally dared Ino to look at you like that again.

But then, when you got bothered by Choso’s actions, it confused him. Could you not tell Ino was into you? Are you actually that unaware of how people, especially men, give such suggestive looks to you?

Choso didn’t understand it at all and knowing he was in no position to say something about it only ate him up inside.

But his mood was lifted for a moment as he then conversed with you. You didn’t know it but you really were the vibrance in this dull man’s life. His heart longed for you at every passing moment so when he noticed you disliked the idea of him being with someone else, even if it were just a friend, he couldn’t help but fall even harder.

It was like you wanted him all to yourself and he would give that to you at any given moment if you asked for it.

In Choso’s mind, he is yours. Whatever you need, he’ll go to any length to provide it for you. Whatever you want, he’ll see how he can get it for you. Choso is so devoted to you that sometimes he doesn’t even feel like his thoughts are his own.

At times, Choso feels as though every inch of his body simply operates under a blind gaze that's clouded with thoughts of you. While he wants nothing more than to be with you, he’s also okay with waiting. He’d do so devotedly until you flat out tell him not to and even then, deep down inside there’s a piece of his heart that’ll always run in your direction.

That being said, to have to reveal you to his ex Yuki who’s attracted to women, it was like he was putting you on the line. As if he were risking his relationship with you by simply revealing the way you look to Yuki.

Choso hated it but he was so damn insecure about losing you, which is exactly why he held onto you so tightly both when he showed you to Yuki and even now as he quietly weeps into you.

The grip he has on your shirt is relentless. He’s so damn terrified and upset right now.

Because after he revealed you to Yuki it all just got worse. Then she wanted to talk to you, she probably told you how she left him, and then fucking Geto Suguru showed up.

By then, just the simple sound of Heyy gorgeous almost made Choso snap. His eye had twitched and he felt like he was on the verge of losing his sanity. It was like what happened with Ino all over again but ten times worse because it was soon revealed that Geto is the man you told Choso you used to sleep with.

Which was one thing in itself but to see how Geto still looks at you just made Choso sick. It was like Geto was undressing you and fucking you with his eyes right in front of him and this dark emotion just swirled around in Choso’s heart.

Many times did Choso stare at the jawline of Geto Suguru, wondering to himself how fast he could reach over and connect his fist to the area without hurting you in any way since you were right next to him.

And to just add onto all of that because the list of emotions Choso just went through is long, the sound of Geto calling you a slut, albeit a way of him teasing you, made Choso lose his shit for a second.

No one at that table knew but Choso was contemplating some dark things the entire time. The flirting, the taunting, the fucking looks, it all made Choso so damn angry. It took every fiber of his being not to reach across the table and wipe that stupid smirk off Geto’s face.

Yet, that wasn’t his boiling point. He let a few things slip when he bickered with you but the second his brother was brought up, Choso just lost it.

He gave up on holding his tongue as he had been the entire conversation. As soon as you looked at him with those pretty eyes of yours, asking him what and who they were talking about, the mere thought of you and Sukuna ever crossing paths just made Choso nauseous.

He quickly got snappy and short-tempered after that, annoyed by how much you kept pushing the subject despite him wanting to move on. Then you had the nerve to tell him that you should know who his older brother is.

He couldn't believe you. Especially after you wouldn’t even tell him about the clear list of other guys you’ve been with? That’s all precisely why he says he felt as though he should know who else you’d been with.

But… to hear you respond to that by saying there’s a chance Sukuna could be one of those people…

Something deep within Choso just broke. He felt said emotion snap in half, the sensation raging through his body. It was his trust. He couldn’t think rationally anymore and both fear and pure anger ran throughout his body.

Everything had gone to shit and his brain was just being overloaded with information.

If it wasn’t enough that every single day Choso had to fear the possible call of you telling him you’d chosen the other guy over him, then he now had to add on the fact that you apparently sleep around. From Choso’s unknown competition to Geto, who he somewhat assumes is said competition, and then to hear about Sukuna?

He couldn’t think straight anymore. Horrid memories of the times he lived with his older sibling just flashed in his mind back to back, each one darker than the last.

Dating back to when Choso was younger and before Yuji was born… He remembered it all like some distorted nightmare. From being hit by Sukuna over the most minor mistake to being straight bullied by the man in the worst ways possible, Choso went through hell growing up with Sukuna.

For the sake of his other two brothers, he’d often take the blame and whatever unjust punishment followed just to protect his siblings. Which is even the story behind the tattoo going across the bridge of Choso’s nose.

You’ve asked him about it before but he never told you how there’s a scar beneath the tattoo that never went away and that’s why he has it in the first place. Of course, said scar was given to him by the asshole Sukuna himself.

And if all that wasn’t enough, what really topped it off was that after Yuji was born, Choso pleaded and begged that Sukuna not put the poor kid through what he endured.

For nothing more than his own amusement, Sukuna went ahead and promised he wouldn’t ever lay a hand on Yuji. Of course, this was only to build up hope in Choso’s heart because the promise was a lie and the things Sukuna had done to Yuji behind closed doors outweighed whatever hell he put Choso through.

This is the exact reason Choso has grown to hate both liars and Sukuna himself. Each time he goes and sees his little brother Yuji, there’s a new bruise on the poor boy’s skin and Choso is only able to do so much.

Genuinely, the only things that keep that man going are the bright smiles that Yuji gives him despite the abuse, knowing that unlike himself, Yuji stands up for himself even at his young age, and lastly, well, you. You make Choso forget about all the dark parts of his family life and essentially free him from it all.

So with all that being said, when you told Choso you had sex with Sukuna it simply broke him into pieces. Why was it that the one woman in which he decides to long for more than ever just so happens to have crossed paths with such a vile man?

He didn’t care that Sukuna was his older brother, he didn’t care that you even fucked him, what made him so angry was the person Sukuna truly is, how blind you were to it, and the possibility that Sukuna could’ve hurt you.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

As all of that replayed in Choso’s mind, his tight grasp on the fabric of your shirt came and went as he cried so quietly against your warm body.

The two of you were standing there hugging in silence for roughly twenty minutes. You simply rubbed the back of Choso’s head with one hand and the other caressed his back, allowing him to cry into you for as long as he needed to.

Well, that was up until you felt something wet make contact with the top of your head. It was faint at first so you didn't pay any mind to it. Then, another slip of water is felt, and another, and soon, you notice it’s drizzling.

Light rain makes contact with both you and Choso’s embraced bodies. You didn’t really want to move but the drizzle was steadily getting heavier and you soon shivered against Choso, to which he sniffled and came to with what was going on around him.

“Choso,” You whispered, feeling how he flinched at the sound of his name, “I-It’s raining…”

He doesn’t say anything for a minute, not moving a muscle and just stuck against you.

Then, when the rain picks up just a bit more, he shifts around and finally pries his arms off of you. He lifts his head from your shoulder and god the sight of him makes your heart crease inward.

Damn these men and being the most beautiful criers you’ve ever seen.

Due to the rain, Choso’s hair was getting wet and starting to stick to his forehead, the ends of the strands having this slight wave to them as they decorated his hairline. His eyes that were darkened with those heavy sleepless bags had tears streaming down from the corners and the male bats his soaked eyelashes as the rain falls onto both of you.

Before you could say or do anything else, Choso moved to take off his jacket and hold it over your head, shielding you from the water falling from the sky. Doing so, he remains close to you and takes another long moment taking in your expression.

You do the same, admiring how someone could be so attractive as they wept. Choso was such a beautiful man, someone whose face you think deserved to be drawn and painted the same way he once did yours.

In that moment, you wish you could read his mind and figure out just what he was thinking as he stood under the rain gazing down at you so intimately. Though he was upset and conflicted, Choso couldn’t even hide the love in his eyes.

Your name is uttered again after a long moment and Choso’s voice is deep but so very emotional.

You swallow and just barely tilt your head, “Yes?”

“I’m… I’m sorry,” Choso whispers, “B-But, I don’t think we should uh…”

You moved your hands to his shirt and your delicate fingers clung onto the man as a slight gust of wind blew over the two of you. Was this it? Was he about to say what you think he was?

It’s over, isn’t it? Choso’s about to say he doesn’t think you two should be together anymore right? You’ve fucked up.

There’s nothing you can do. He’s done with you. He’s about to tell you that he never wants to see you again and you don’t know what you could possibly say to change his mind.

Right? Of course, what else would he be about to say?

It’s over. You and Choso are over. Just like that-

He says your name again and you blink, tears dripping down your face unexpectedly as your own thoughts and anxiety overcome you. “I don’t think we s-should stay in the rain like this,” Choso murmurs, sighing, “You’ll get sick.”

You exhale shakily and squeeze your eyes shut, nodding your head in agreement and so beyond thankful he didn’t say what you thought he was about to.

He then carefully places his jacket on top of your head and puts an arm around you, moving to walk you over to the passenger side of his car. When you get there, you slip a hand into his pants pocket and pull out his keys, your fingers slipping over the item to unlock his car.

Doing so, you wonder why Choso didn’t do that earlier. Did he wait on purpose to give you a chance to catch up to him?

Once the car is unlocked Choso helps you get in and tries to make sure no more water makes contact with you, despite himself getting soaked in the process. He even moves to put your seatbelt on for you, regardless of his shaky hand and his backside getting wet from the rain.

You frown, “C-Choso you don’t have to-“

He pauses and looks at you, his tone completely soft and weak as he whispers, “Shut up.”

Your lips pull together and you swallow your words yet again. His face was so close to yours, the mixed smell of rain and his cologne filling your nose. Choso’s eyes narrow as they stare into your own and you can’t even read his expression so you genuinely have no idea what’s going on in his mind right now.

Maintaining eye contact with you, the sound of your seat belt clicking is heard before Choso moves. His hand goes to your face and despite the shakiness of his fingers, he gently places them on your jaw.

Choso moves your head around a bit like he’s inspecting you before he stops and his thumb shifts upward. It swipes over your lips slowly and he stares for a while. Knowing that Sukuna has probably felt these same lips of yours bothers him to no end.

And to make it worse, Choso blames himself because maybe if he opened up to you sooner he could’ve prevented it somehow? Even though he doesn’t know when you slept with Sukuna.

Choso’s thumb taps your bottom lip three times before he opens his mouth. You wish he’d get out of the rain already but he seems so immersed in whatever he’s doing. Whispering your name again, “Has he ever hurt you?” Choso asks carefully.

You shake your head no instead of making your answer vocal in courtesy of recently being told to shut up. Were you that worried that if you didn’t listen to Choso he’d slip away from you? So much so that you couldn’t even speak unless told to?

“Say it,” Choso hums, “Needa’ hear you say it, baby.”

“N-No,” You reply.

“No, what? Please answer my question fully,” He instructs, his voice calmer and a bit dry due to his recent emotional outburst. You open your mouth to do so but he cuts you off, “I just need to be sure, okay?”

Nodding, “No, Sukuna has never hurt me.” You answer completely.

Choso releases a relieved exhale and shuts his eyes, “Okay… T-Thank fuck,” He whispers finally before taking his hand off your face.

He starts to pull away but you grab his hand for some reason. Choso freezes, not at all caring about the rain soaking him and his clothes as your hand grabs his own.

You’re looking up at him unsure of what should be said outside of a simple and heartfelt, “I’m sorry.”

Choso’s brows tense as if he didn’t want to hear you say that but he pulls your hand to his face and leans down again. He kisses the back of your hand, his lips pressing against your skin so long that it seems like he doesn't want to move away from the motion.

“Thank you for that, princess,” Choso says to you, his eyes meeting yours yet again, “But, you don’t need to apologize. We uh…” He swallows, “We’re gonna’ talk this all out, yeah?”

You’re nodding before even mentally rendering his words, “Y-Yeah.”

A small smile, one that barely even shows and seems to lack emotion, spreads across Choso’s face, “A-And uh… No matter what you tell me,” He gulps, wondering if he’ll later regret these words, “I’ll still love you.”

Your heart just swells so much to the point that it begins to hurt your chest. Does he know what he’s about to get into? Does he understand the gravity of what he just said to you?

“As long as it’s the truth,” He adds just in case.

You nod again, “Right.”

“Promise?” Choso asks.

“Mhm, I promise,” You hush out.

He sighs, releases your hand, and finally stands up straight, moving to shut the car door and make his way to the driver's side. Once he does and situates himself in his vehicle, his body is pretty soaked and he’s quick to turn his car on along with the heat.

The two of you were about to be in here for a while.

So many truths were getting ready to reveal themselves.

Does that include details of the list?

…

You had no idea.

GOJO SATORU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

GETO SUGURU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢 / 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ITADORI SUKUNA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮???

NANAMI KENTO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙙

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xxspringmelodyxx · 29 days

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“𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑔𝑜𝓉…”

┗━⊱ 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒅𝒂𝒚, 𝒔𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 ⊰━┛

⊱ 𝑰𝒏𝒄𝒍𝒖𝒅𝒆𝒔: 𝑺𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒖 𝑮𝒐𝒋𝒐, 𝑺𝒖𝒈𝒖𝒓𝒖 𝑮𝒆𝒕𝒐, 𝑲𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝑵𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒊, 𝑪𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒐 𝑲𝒂𝒎𝒐, 𝑻𝒐𝒋𝒊 𝑭𝒖𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒈𝒖𝒓𝒐, 𝑺𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒏𝒂 𝑹𝒚𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏 ⊰ wc: 7.0k

✩⁺₊✩☽⋆Warnings: Swearing, angst, comfort ⋆☾✩⁺₊✩

𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿

Thank you to another anon for this request! I hope you enjoy! <3333

✩⁺₊✩☽⋆Satoru Gojo⋆☾✩⁺₊✩

I sat quietly on the couch, staring at the clock. The day was nearly over, and Satoru still hadn’t mentioned it. My heart ached as I replayed the events of the day in my mind, hoping he would say something—anything—to acknowledge my birthday. But he didn’t. Instead, he went about his usual routine, too busy with his own life to notice how much today meant to me.

When Satoru finally walked into the room, I could barely look at him. Anger, hurt, and disappointment swirled within me. How could he forget? After everything we’ve been through together, how could he overlook something as important as my birthday?

“Hey, baby,” he greeted me with his usual bright smile. “I’m starved. Let’s get something to eat.”

I forced a smile, trying to mask the hurt that was clawing at my chest. “Sure. You go ahead and pick something.”

As we sat at the table later that evening, Satoru was his usual carefree self, talking about his day, his work, and everything else that crossed his mind. But I could barely hear him over the thoughts racing in my head. The man I loved had forgotten my birthday—the one day I had hoped would be special.

That night, as Satoru slept soundly beside me, I lay awake, formulating a plan. If he could forget my birthday, maybe he deserved a taste of his own medicine. Maybe then he’d understand just how much it hurt.

---

A few weeks later, it was Satoru’s birthday. I woke up early, just as I always did, and went about my morning routine. I made breakfast for myself, not bothering to prepare anything for him, and left for work without so much as a “Happy Birthday.”

The entire day, I ignored his texts, his calls, everything. I knew he was probably confused, maybe even hurt, but I didn’t care. Not yet, anyway. This was his punishment.

When I finally returned home that evening, I found Satoru sitting on the couch, a forlorn expression on his face. He didn’t even greet me as I walked in, which was unusual for him.

“baby,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Did I… do something wrong?”

I glanced at him, feigning indifference. “Why would you ask that?”

“It’s my birthday,” he said, his eyes searching mine for some sign of affection. “But… you haven’t said anything. You’ve been distant all day.”

I looked away, the memory of my own forgotten birthday fresh in my mind. “Maybe I just didn’t think it was that important.”

His face fell, and I could see the hurt in his eyes. A pang of guilt tugged at my heart, but I pushed it aside. This was what he deserved. He needed to understand.

“I’m sorry, Satoru,” I said, my voice colder than I intended. “But you didn’t think my birthday was important enough to remember, so why should I care about yours?”

His eyes widened as realization dawned on him. “baby… I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to forget. I’ve been so caught up with work, but that’s no excuse. I know I hurt you.”

I turned away from him, not wanting to let him see how much his words affected me. “I just wanted you to understand how it felt. To know what it’s like to be forgotten by the person you care about the most.”

Satoru didn’t say anything for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, almost broken. “I do understand. And I’ll spend every day making it up to you. Just… please don’t shut me out like this. I don’t want to lose you.”

My resolve weakened. I had hurt him, just as he had hurt me, but the satisfaction I thought I would feel wasn’t there. Instead, all I felt was a deep sadness.

“Come with me,” I said quietly, taking his hand and leading him outside.

We walked in silence to a small clearing in the nearby park. The sun was just beginning to set, casting a warm, golden glow over the area. I had prepared a simple picnic, just some of Satoru’s favorite foods and a blanket to sit on.

“I didn’t forget your birthday,” I finally admitted, my voice soft. “I just wanted you to know how much it hurt when you forgot mine.”

He looked at the picnic and then at me, his eyes filled with emotion. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, pulling me into a tight embrace. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

Tears welled up in my eyes as I returned his embrace. “I know you are. And I forgive you. But you need to understand that it’s not just about the birthday. It’s about making time for each other, about showing that you care, even when life gets busy.”

Satoru nodded, his voice thick with emotion. “I promise I’ll do better. I never want to make you feel like that again.”

We sat together in the fading light, sharing the simple meal I had prepared. There was no need for grand gestures or expensive gifts. All that mattered was that we were together and that we had both learned something valuable.

As the stars began to appear in the night sky, Satoru took my hand in his, squeezing it gently. “Thank you for this,” he said softly. “And happy belated birthday, baby.”

I smiled through my tears, leaning into him. “Happy birthday, Satoru.”

And as we sat there, wrapped in each other’s arms, I knew that this was a moment we would never forget.

✩⁺₊✩☽⋆Suguru Geto⋆☾✩⁺₊✩

The day had started like any other. I woke up to the soft glow of morning light filtering through the curtains, the sound of birds chirping outside. I turned over in bed, expecting to feel Suguru’s warmth beside me, but the space was empty. He must have gotten up early, probably to meditate or attend to his responsibilities.

As I got ready for the day, I found myself checking my phone more often than usual. Every time it buzzed, my heart would leap, only to be disappointed by a random notification or message that wasn’t from him. The hours passed, and still nothing. Not a single mention of my birthday.

I tried to push the thoughts away, convincing myself that he was just busy. Suguru always had a lot on his plate, and I didn’t want to be a burden. But as the day wore on, that familiar ache in my chest grew stronger. How could he forget?

It wasn’t until late afternoon when I heard the excited footsteps of Nanako and Mimiko running through the house. They burst into the room, their faces bright with smiles.

“Happy Birthday, mama!” Nanako exclaimed, throwing her arms around me.

“We made you something!” Mimiko added, holding out a small, hand-drawn card filled with colorful hearts and stars.

I smiled, my heart warming at their thoughtfulness. “Thank you, girls. This means so much to me.”

But the warmth quickly faded as reality hit me. They remembered, but Suguru hadn’t. The girls must have noticed the change in my expression because they exchanged worried glances.

“Did… did Suguru say anything?” Nanako asked cautiously.

I shook my head, forcing a smile. “He’s been busy. It’s okay.”

Mimiko frowned, clearly upset. “But it’s your birthday! He’s supposed to know that!”

“It’s not fair,” Nanako agreed, crossing her arms. “He should be here celebrating with you.”

I tried to reassure them, not wanting to dampen their spirits. “It’s fine, really. Sometimes people forget.”

But as I said it, I knew it wasn’t fine. Not really. And I could see that the girls weren’t convinced either.

---

By evening, I had given up on hoping. I found Suguru in the garden, sitting under the large oak tree, his eyes closed in quiet contemplation. He looked peaceful, almost ethereal, as if the worries of the world couldn’t touch him. But I couldn’t share in that peace. Not today.

“Hey,” I called out softly as I approached.

Suguru opened his eyes and smiled up at me. “Hey, you. Come join me.”

I hesitated for a moment before sitting down beside him. We sat in silence for a while, the only sounds around us being the rustling of leaves and the distant hum of the city.

“I was thinking we could do something tonight,” he said eventually, turning to me with a gentle expression. “Maybe grab dinner, take a walk, or just stay in and watch something. What do you think?”

My heart sank. Even now, he didn’t realize what today was. “Sure,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. “Whatever you want.”

Suguru reached out and took my hand, his touch warm and reassuring. “Are you okay? You seem a little… distant.”

Before I could respond, Nanako and Mimiko came rushing into the garden, their expressions a mix of disbelief and frustration.

“Suguru!” Nanako exclaimed, her hands on her hips. “How could you forget Y/N’s birthday?”

Mimiko nodded vigorously, her eyes wide. “We remembered, and we’re just kids!”

Suguru’s eyes widened as the color drained from his face. He looked at me, then back at the girls. “What…? No, I didn’t forget…”

But the truth was written all over his face. He had forgotten.

“Suguru,” I said quietly, pulling my hand from his. “It’s okay. I understand that you’ve been busy.”

“No, it’s not okay,” Nanako insisted, glaring at Suguru. “You need to make this right!”

Suguru looked utterly lost, his usual calm demeanor shattered. “Y/N… I’m so sorry. I’ve been so caught up in everything else, but that’s no excuse. I can’t believe I forgot.”

The girls stood there, arms crossed, waiting for his next move. I could tell they were upset, not just for me, but because they looked up to Suguru so much. He was their protector, their guide—and he had let us all down.

I took a deep breath, feeling the hurt begin to ebb into something more manageable. “Suguru… maybe you should talk to the girls for a bit. I’m going to go for a walk.”

---

The days that followed were a blur of awkward silence and half-hearted attempts at reconciliation. Suguru apologized repeatedly, but something between us had shifted. We still lived together, went through the motions, but it felt different. The warmth, the easy laughter—it all seemed distant.

I could tell he was trying. He left me small gifts, little notes apologizing again, and gestures meant to make up for his forgetfulness, but I wasn’t ready to forgive so easily. Every time I looked at him, I couldn’t help but remember the hurt I felt on my birthday, the sting of being forgotten by the person I loved most.

Instead of dwelling on the pain, I began working on something special. Each time I withdrew from him, it was because I was spending hours in my little crafting corner, crocheting. I decided to create something that would remind him of what mattered most—something that would mean more than words ever could.

I crocheted tiny versions of us: Suguru, me, the girls, and even his beloved dragon. Each doll took hours of painstaking work, and every stitch was filled with the love I still held for him, despite the distance between us. As the days passed and his birthday drew nearer, I worked in secret, pouring my heart into the project.

On the morning of his birthday, I acted as if it were just another day. I made breakfast, but didn’t acknowledge the significance of the date. Suguru watched me, his eyes filled with hope that today would be different, but I remained distant, giving him only short, polite answers to his attempts at conversation.

As the day went on, I could see the realization dawning on him. I wasn’t going to acknowledge his birthday. He tried to mask his disappointment, but it was clear in the way his shoulders slumped, in the way he avoided meeting my gaze.

By evening, Suguru seemed to have given up. He sat on the couch, staring blankly at the television, but not really watching it. The once lively atmosphere in our home had turned somber, filled with unspoken words and lingering tension.

I felt a pang of guilt. This wasn’t how I wanted things to be. I had wanted him to understand, but now I was only adding to the pain. Taking a deep breath, I decided it was time to make things right.

---

“Suguru,” I said softly, approaching him where he sat. He looked up at me, his eyes tired and filled with a mix of emotions—confusion, sadness, and a glimmer of hope.

I began, pulling out a small box. I opened it to reveal the tiny crocheted dolls, each one representing him, me, the girls, and his dragon. His eyes widened in surprise, his breath catching as he took in the sight.

“I didn’t forget your birthday,” I continued, my voice trembling slightly. “Every time I ignored you, I was working on this. I wanted you to have something that would remind you of what’s important—of us, of the family we’ve built.”

Suguru stared at the dolls, his fingers gently brushing over the tiny figures. Tears welled up in his eyes as he looked back at me. “Y/N… this is… I don’t even have words. Thank you.”

Before I could say more, I signaled to the girls, who had been hiding nearby. They came out, beaming, carrying a small cake with candles lit. As they started singing "Happy Birthday," Suguru’s face broke into a wide, emotional smile.

The girls’ voices were filled with joy, and as they sang, I could see the weight lifting from Suguru’s shoulders. When they finished, he blew out the candles, and the girls cheered, wrapping their arms around him in a tight hug.

“I’m sorry,” Suguru whispered to me as the girls giggled and clung to him. “I’m sorry for everything.”

I leaned in, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. “I know, Suguru. I forgive you. Don’t do it again though, or else I’ll never make you crocheted stuff again!” I joke

He nodded, his eyes still misty. “I promise, my dear. I’ll do better. I never want to make you feel like that again.”

As we sat together, sharing the cake and enjoying the night, I felt a sense of peace settle over us. The tension had lifted, replaced by the warmth

✩⁺₊✩☽⋆Kento Nanami⋆☾✩⁺₊✩

The day Nanami forgot my birthday, I felt the hurt sink deep into my chest, but I didn’t let it show. I had spent the entire day waiting, hoping he would remember—waiting for a text, a call, something to acknowledge the day. But as the hours passed, it became clear that he wasn’t going to.

When he finally got home late that night, he looked exhausted, his usual composed demeanor weighed down by the day’s work. He walked in with a tired smile, greeted me with a kiss on the forehead, and headed straight for the shower without a single mention of my birthday. Not even a glance at the beautifully set table I had prepared or the dinner that was now cold and untouched.

I swallowed the hurt, forcing a smile when he emerged from the shower. I knew that if he didn’t care enough to remember, I wasn’t going to remind him. Instead, I decided I would give him a taste of his own medicine.

The days turned into weeks, and I carried on as if nothing was wrong. I acted like the perfect partner, hiding my disappointment behind a veil of normalcy. I waited patiently, knowing that Nanami’s birthday was approaching, and I had every intention of “accidentally” forgetting it.

When his birthday finally arrived, I made sure to play my part flawlessly. I woke up early, just like any other day, and went about my routine without acknowledging the significance of the date. Nanami, ever the observant one, noticed the lack of celebration. He glanced at me throughout the day, his eyes filled with a mix of confusion and disappointment, but he never said a word.

By the time evening rolled around, I could see the weight of the day pressing down on him. But instead of confronting the silence, Nanami buried himself in paperwork, his brow furrowed in concentration. It was clear he was using work as a distraction, trying to avoid the painful realization that I hadn’t acknowledged his birthday.

He sat at the dining table, papers spread out before him, the soft scratching of his pen the only sound in the room. Every so often, he would glance at the empty space where I usually sat, but I stayed in the kitchen, letting the silence speak for itself.

As the night grew late, I knew the lesson had been learned. Nanami’s shoulders were tense, his movements growing slower as the exhaustion and disappointment weighed on him. He looked up as I approached, his eyes weary, filled with a quiet hurt.

“I’m going to the kitchen to grab something,” I said casually, as if the day had been completely ordinary.

He nodded absently, his focus returning to the papers in front of him, though I could see the conflict in his eyes. He was trying to push through the pain, to keep working, but the disappointment was too heavy to ignore.

A few minutes later, I returned with a small cake in one hand and a neatly wrapped gift in the other. Nanami looked up, his pen still in hand, and his eyes widened in surprise as he saw what I was holding.

“Happy Birthday, Kento,” I said softly, placing the cake on the table beside his paperwork.

His expression was a mixture of guilt and relief as he slowly put down his pen. “You… you didn’t forget?”

I shook my head, a small smile playing on my lips. “No, I didn’t forget. But I wanted you to feel what I felt.”

He stared at the cake and the gift for a long moment before finally meeting my eyes as he was hit with realization. His voice thick with emotion. “I’m…im sorry, honey. I’m so sorry for forgetting yours.”

I sighed, sitting down beside him. “It wasn’t just about forgetting the date, Kento. It’s about feeling like I don’t matter enough to be remembered. That hurts more than anything.”

Nanami reached out and took my hand, his grip firm but gentle. “You do matter. More than anything. I’ve been so consumed with work that I lost sight of what’s truly important. I’ll never let that happen again.”

I smiled, leaning into him as I spoke. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

As we shared the cake and he opened the simple, meaningful gift I had prepared—a reminder of our time together—I could see the relief and determination in his eyes. The tension that had built up over the past few weeks began to dissolve, replaced by a renewed sense of connection between us.

✩⁺₊✩☽⋆Choso Kamo⋆☾✩⁺₊✩

It was already midday, and I hadn’t heard a word from Choso. The hours had slipped by with no messages, no calls—nothing to indicate that he remembered what today was. My heart sank a little more with each passing minute, but I tried to push the thoughts away, convincing myself that he was probably busy.

I picked up my phone, deciding to reach out to him instead. Maybe he was planning something and just hadn’t had the chance to text yet.

“Hey, what are you up to today?” I typed, hoping for some sign that he hadn’t completely forgotten.

A few minutes later, his reply came through: “Hanging out with Yuuji! We’re at the arcade right now, having a blast. How about you?”

I stared at the screen, the pit in my stomach growing heavier. He was at the arcade, completely engrossed in his day with Yuuji. And he hadn’t even asked about mine.

“Glad you’re having fun. I’m just relaxing at home,” I replied, trying to keep the bitterness out of my words. I didn’t add anything else, not wanting to come off as passive-aggressive. But it hurt—there was no denying that.

The rest of the day passed slowly. I tried to distract myself with chores, reading, anything to take my mind off the fact that Choso had forgotten. But nothing really worked. The disappointment lingered, gnawing at me with every hour that passed.

By the time evening rolled around, I had resigned myself to the fact that Choso wasn’t going to remember. I decided not to cook anything special; instead, I settled for leftovers from the night before. I sat at the table, eating alone, the quiet of the apartment only amplifying the ache in my chest.

It was well into the night when I finally heard the door open. Choso walked in, his face lit up with a smile as he kicked off his shoes. “Baby, you should’ve come with us! Yuuji and I had the best time today,” he said, his voice full of enthusiasm as he headed toward the kitchen where I was tidying up.

I glanced over my shoulder at him, forcing a smile. “Sounds like you had a great day.”

He nodded, oblivious to my strained tone. “Yeah, we did! We hit up the arcade, grabbed some ramen, and then just wandered around for a bit. I haven’t had a day like this in a long time.”

I turned back to the sink, scrubbing a plate a little harder than necessary. “I’m glad you had fun.”

Choso’s smile faltered as he noticed the tension in my shoulders. He walked over to me, placing a hand on my arm. “Hey… are you okay?”

I shrugged, not trusting myself to speak just yet. I could feel his eyes on me, searching for answers that I wasn’t ready to give.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice softer now, laced with concern.

I set the plate down and turned to face him, meeting his gaze head-on. “Choso, do you know what today is?”

He blinked, clearly taken aback by the question. “Today? Uh… it’s Saturday?”

I sighed, the hurt in my chest expanding. “It’s my birthday, Choso.”

His eyes widened, and the color drained from his face as the realization hit him. “Oh, no…baby, I’m so sorry. I didn’t… I was so caught up with Yuuji that I didn’t even think—”

“You didn’t think,” I repeated, my voice trembling. “You spent the entire day with Yuuji, having fun, while I sat here waiting for you to remember. But you didn’t.”

Choso’s face crumpled with guilt, and he stepped closer, his hands reaching for mine. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I forgot your birthday. I didn’t mean to—”

I pulled away, shaking my head. “It’s like I’m not important enough to be remembered. Like I come second.”

His shoulders sagged, and he looked down at the floor, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re not second, baby. You’re everything to me. I just… I messed up. I’m sorry.”

I watched him, my heart heavy with the weight of the day. I knew he hadn’t meant to hurt me, but that didn’t make it any easier to bear. “I needed you today, Choso. I needed you to remember.”

He nodded, swallowing hard. “I know. And I’ll spend every day making it up to you. I promise.”

For a long moment, we stood there in silence, the words hanging between us. Finally, I sighed, letting some of the tension slip away. “It’s okay,” I said quietly. “But next time, don’t forget.”

Choso looked up at me, his eyes filled with remorse. “I won’t. I promise.”

He pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly as if afraid to let go. I leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his embrace soothe some of the hurt. It would take time to fully move past the disappointment, but I knew that we would get there. After all, love isn’t about never making mistakes—it’s about learning from them and growing together.

A few months passed, and Choso’s birthday was just around the corner. Despite his promises to make it up to me, the hurt from my birthday still lingered in the back of my mind. I decided that maybe it was time for him to experience what it felt like to be forgotten—just for a little while.

When his birthday arrived, I played my part perfectly. I woke up early, just like any other day, and went about my routine without acknowledging the significance of the date. Choso seemed puzzled, his eyes flicking toward me with an unspoken question as the morning passed in silence.

Instead of spending the day with him, I made plans to hang out with Shoko. “I’m going out for a bit,” I said casually, grabbing my bag and heading for the door. “Don’t wait up.”

Choso looked at me, his confusion deepening. “Wait, where are you going? It’s—”

“Just meeting Shoko for lunch,” I cut in, my tone light. “I’ll be back later.”

I didn’t give him a chance to respond before I left, closing the door behind me. As I walked to meet Shoko, I couldn’t help but smile to myself. He had no idea what was coming.

Shoko and I spent the day gathering everyone together at the park, making sure everything was set up perfectly for Choso’s surprise party. The weather was perfect—a clear, sunny day with just enough breeze to keep things comfortable. We set up tables under the shade of the trees, decorated with lights and streamers, and laid out blankets on the grass for everyone to sit on.

It was hard to keep the secret, especially when I received a few texts from Choso throughout the day, asking what I was up to and if I was planning anything. I kept my replies vague, letting him stew in the uncertainty.

By evening, the preparations were complete. The park was filled with our friends, all smiling and laughing as they waited for the guest of honor. The atmosphere was warm and inviting, with the smell of grilled food wafting through the air and the sound of children playing in the distance.

I texted Choso one last time, telling him I was on my way back and that I needed him to meet me at the park. He responded quickly, his messages a mix of curiosity and confusion.

When he arrived at the park, he looked around, clearly unsure of what was happening. I walked up to him with a smile, taking his hand and leading him toward the gathering.

As we approached, everyone jumped out from their hiding spots, shouting, “Surprise!”

Choso froze, his eyes wide as he took in the scene before him. The park was filled with our friends, all smiling and cheering, the tables laden with food and a cake in the center. Shoko was grinning from ear to ear, clearly enjoying the look of shock on Choso’s face.

“You… you planned all this?” Choso asked, his voice filled with disbelief.

I nodded, unable to suppress my smile. “Happy Birthday, Cho~”

For a moment, he just stood there, staring at me with a mix of awe and guilt. Then, without warning, he pulled me into a tight embrace, holding me as if he never wanted to let go.

“I thought… I thought you forgot,” he whispered against my hair, his voice trembling slightly.

I pulled back just enough to look up at him, my smile softening. “I wanted you to know what it felt like. But I would never forget your birthday, Choso.”

He looked at me, his eyes filled with emotion. “I’m sorry for what happened on your birthday. I’ll never take you for granted again.”

I leaned up to kiss him gently, letting the warmth of his words sink in. “I know you won’t. Now, let’s enjoy your party.”

As we joined our friends in the park and celebrated his birthday, the lingering hurt from my own began to fade away. Choso had learned his lesson, and I knew that our bond was stronger for it. After all, love is about forgiveness, understanding, and sometimes, a little playful revenge.

✩⁺₊✩☽⋆Toji Fushiguro⋆☾✩⁺₊✩

It was late, the darkness outside the window deepening with each passing minute. The apartment was quiet, save for the distant hum of city life. I sat at the dining table, staring at the cold meal I had prepared hours earlier. The candles had long since burned out, leaving only wisps of smoke and the scent of wax lingering in the air.

Toji was supposed to be home by now. He had left early in the morning for a mission, one of those jobs that could go on indefinitely. I knew how these missions worked—time blurred when he was out there, his focus entirely on the task at hand. But today, of all days, I had hoped he would remember to come home.

As the hours stretched into the night, I finally realized that he wasn’t coming back—not in time to celebrate my birthday, at least. There had been no message, no call, not even a sign that he remembered. The weight of disappointment settled over me like a heavy blanket, and I couldn’t shake it off.

I cleared the table quietly, putting away the untouched food. My movements were slow, almost mechanical, as if any sudden motion might crack the fragile calm I was trying to maintain. I blew out the last candle and headed to bed, my heart heavy with the realization that Toji had forgotten.

When I crawled into bed, the sheets were cold, and the emptiness beside me felt like a void I couldn’t fill. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, replaying the day in my mind. It hurt more than I wanted to admit, but I wasn’t one to dwell on things I couldn’t change.

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of the front door creaking open. Toji’s footsteps were heavy, and I could hear the rustle of his clothes as he dropped his gear by the door. He was back, finally.

I stayed in bed, listening as he moved through the apartment, his footsteps hesitant as he approached the bedroom. The door creaked open, and I felt him pause in the doorway.

“You awake?” His voice was low, cautious.

I turned over, meeting his gaze. He looked tired, his clothes rumpled and his eyes slightly red. I nodded, sitting up slowly. “Yeah, I’m awake.”

He came closer, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry I didn’t get back sooner. The mission…” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“It’s fine,” I replied, my voice steady but distant. “You’re home now.”

Toji studied my face, his brows knitting together in concern. “Did something happen?”

I shook my head, forcing a small smile. “No. Nothing happened.”

He frowned, clearly picking up on the underlying tension. “You sure? You seem… off.”

I didn’t reply immediately, letting the silence stretch between us. Finally, I looked him in the eye. “It was my birthday yesterday.”

Toji blinked, his expression shifting from confusion to realization. He ran a hand through his hair, cursing under his breath. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t… I completely forgot.”

I nodded, looking down at my hands. “I know. You were busy.”

He reached out, placing a hand on my shoulder. “I didn’t mean to forget. You know that, right? I just… I get so caught up in this stuff, and time slips away.”

“I know,” I said quietly. “But it still hurt.”

Toji’s grip tightened slightly, his face clouded with guilt. “I’ll make it up to you. I swear.”

I met his gaze, my voice calm but firm. “I just…sometimes you need to understand that there are more important things than work. I am grateful for you working, but I’m even more grateful when you spend time with me.”

He nodded slowly, absorbing my words. “You’re right. I’ll do better. I promise.”

The week passed quickly, and soon it was the night before Toji’s birthday. He hadn’t mentioned it once, likely feeling guilty about what had happened on mine. But I had a plan, one that would show him I wasn’t holding a grudge, even if I had been hurt.

On the day of his birthday, Toji left for another short mission, unaware of what I had in store. I spent the day preparing, making sure everything was perfect. I arranged a quiet dinner at a small, secluded cabin outside the city—a place where we could escape from everything and just focus on each other.

—

When he returned that evening, he was not met with your wonderful kisses, or the beautiful sounds of your voice or laughter. It was just empty. Were you ignoring him?

He felt a pang in his chest. He didn’t realize how badly it would impact him to be alone on his birthday. It reminded him of old times.

“Doll? You here?” He asked, his voice filled with desperation. But all he heard was the sounds of the lights buzzing.

He slumped over, feeling his heart ache. Now he knew how you felt, and it was awful. He hated the feeling, but he knew he deserved it. Its all he deserved…

As Toji walked further into your shared home, he found a note on the table with instructions to meet you at the cabin.

You had arranged for a car to take him there, knowing he would be too tired to drive himself.

—

When Toji arrived at the cabin, the sun had just dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple. The cabin was lit warmly from the inside, a soft glow spilling out onto the porch.

He stepped inside cautiously, calling out my name. “Baby?”

I appeared from the kitchen, smiling softly as I wiped my hands on a towel. “Happy Birthday, Toji.”

His eyes widened slightly as he took in the sight of the cozy, candle-lit cabin, the table set with a simple but delicious-looking meal. He looked at me, his expression a mix of surprise and gratitude.

“You did all this… for me?” he asked, his voice low.

I nodded, walking over to him. “I did. I wanted to do something special, just for us.”

He reached out, pulling me into his arms, his embrace tight and warm. “I thought… after what happened on your birthday… I didn’t think you’d want to do anything.”

I pulled back slightly, looking up at him. “I was hurt, Toji. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I wanted to show you that we can still make time for each other, even when things get tough.”

He nodded, his expression softening as he leaned down to kiss me gently. “Thank you, doll. I needed this. I needed you.”

We spent the evening together, just the two of us, away from the chaos of his work and the pressures of everyday life. As we sat by the fire later that night, Toji pulled me close, his voice soft and sincere.

“I’ll do better,” he promised. “I won’t let work come between us again.”

I rested my head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of the fire and the steady beat of his heart. “We’ll be okay, Toji. As long as we have each other, we’ll be okay.”

✩⁺₊✩☽⋆Sukuna Ryomen⋆☾✩⁺₊✩

Sukuna was never one to dwell on sentimentality. His world was one of power, control, and dominance. He wasn’t one to coddle or concern himself with trivial matters like birthdays. I knew this about him from the beginning, yet, somehow, a part of me hoped that he would remember—just this once.

The day passed quietly. Sukuna was his usual self—intense, brooding, and wholly consumed by his own thoughts. We spent the day in the manor, a place that felt more like a fortress than a home. The dark halls echoed with silence, the air thick with an unspoken tension.

I had learned long ago not to expect much from Sukuna when it came to displays of affection. But today, of all days, I had hoped for something different. A simple acknowledgment, a word, anything that showed he remembered.

But as the hours slipped by, it became clear that he didn’t. There were no subtle glances, no lingering touches, nothing to suggest that today held any significance for him. The weight of disappointment settled over me like a shadow, growing heavier with each passing minute.

By evening, I had resigned myself to the reality of the situation. Sukuna, the King of Curses, had forgotten my birthday. It shouldn’t have surprised me, yet the sting was still sharp.

I found him in the grand hall, seated on his throne-like chair, lost in thought. His eyes were half-lidded, his expression unreadable as he gazed out into the darkness beyond the windows.

I approached him quietly, my footsteps barely making a sound on the cold stone floor. “Sukuna,” I called out softly, my voice almost lost in the vastness of the hall.

He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze slowly shifting to me as if I were an afterthought. “What is it?” he asked, his tone indifferent.

I hesitated for a moment, searching his eyes for any sign of recognition, but there was none. I forced a small smile, trying to hide the disappointment that threatened to spill over. “Nothing. I just wanted to say goodnight.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly sensing the change in my demeanor. “Goodnight? Already?”

“Yes,” I replied, keeping my voice steady. “I’m tired. It’s been a long day.”

He didn’t question me further, simply nodding as he turned his gaze back to the darkness. “Very well.”

I turned and walked away, my heart heavy with unspoken words. As I made my way to the bedroom, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being forgotten, of being insignificant in the eyes of the man I loved.

The next morning, I woke early, my mind already working on what I needed to do. Sukuna’s birthday was in a few days, and while I had initially planned something special, the hurt from yesterday still lingered. I decided to change my approach—he needed to understand what it felt like to be overlooked.

For the next few days, I continued my usual routine, but I was distant. I didn’t linger in the halls where he might pass, didn’t seek him out for our usual conversations. I kept to myself, letting the silence stretch between us.

Sukuna, in his usual manner, didn’t comment on the change. He was too proud, too detached to ask why I was being distant. But I could see the flicker of curiosity in his eyes whenever we crossed paths, the subtle tightening of his jaw when I didn’t engage with him as I normally would.

The day of Sukuna’s birthday arrived, and I played my part perfectly. I went about my tasks as if it were just another day, not once acknowledging the date. I didn’t greet him in the morning, didn’t prepare anything special. I simply acted as if it held no importance at all.

As the hours passed, I could feel the tension growing. Sukuna wasn’t one to show vulnerability, but I knew him well enough to sense the shift in his demeanor. By the time evening rolled around, the air was thick with unspoken words.

I found him in the same grand hall, seated in his usual spot. His gaze was sharper this time, his expression more focused as I approached.

“My pet,” he called out as I entered, his voice carrying a subtle edge.

I paused, meeting his gaze with a calm expression. “Yes?”

He studied me for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I’ve been busy.”

“With what?” he demanded, his tone growing sharper.

I raised an eyebrow, tilting my head slightly. “Does it matter?”

His eyes flashed with irritation, and he stood, closing the distance between us in a few quick strides. “You’re hiding something,” he accused, his voice low and dangerous.

I met his gaze evenly, refusing to back down. “Am I?”

His grip on my arm tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to show that he wasn’t pleased. “Yes. You are.”

I sighed softly, letting the silence stretch between us for a moment before finally speaking. “It’s your birthday, Sukuna.”

His eyes widened slightly, the only indication that he was surprised. “You remembered?”

“Of course I did,” I replied, my voice steady. “But you didn’t remember mine.”

Sukuna’s expression darkened, his grip on my arm loosening as he processed my words. For a moment, there was only silence between us, the weight of my statement hanging heavily in the air.

“I…” he began, but the words seemed to catch in his throat.

“You forgot,” I continued, my voice soft but firm. “You didn’t even realize what day it was.”

He stared at me, the realization sinking in. For the first time, I saw something flicker in his eyes—regret, perhaps, or guilt. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there.

“I didn’t mean to,” he finally said, his voice quieter than usual.

“I know,” I replied, my tone softening. “But it still hurt.”

Sukuna let out a slow breath, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I’m not good at… these things.”

I stepped closer, placing a hand on his chest. “I don’t need grand gestures, Sukuna. I just need to know that I matter to you.”

He looked down at me, his expression unreadable for a moment before he finally nodded. “You do. More than you know.”

I smiled slightly, feeling the tension begin to ease. “Then show me. Don’t just say it.”

He hesitated for a moment before nodding again, more firmly this time. “I will.”

That evening, we didn’t have a grand celebration, but we did spend it together. Sukuna, true to his word, made an effort to show me that I mattered. It wasn’t in the form of gifts or elaborate displays of affection—those weren’t his style. But he stayed close, his presence a silent acknowledgment of the mistake he had made.

And as we sat together in the quiet of the night, I realized that, despite his flaws and his pride, Sukuna was capable of learning, of growing. It would take time, but I was willing to be patient. Because love, especially with someone like Sukuna, wasn’t about perfection. It was about understanding, forgiveness, and the small moments where we could find common ground.

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marcsburnerphone · 1 year

Text

wish I wasn't so hurt

Captain John price x f!reader

Summary:being johns’ wife has been full of security and safety and you never thought he’d be the one to taint that.

Warnings: angst,(hurt/comfort, 141 task force loves you, price is full of guilt, reader is struggling to process her feelings

Part two!! Find part one here - Part 1

—----------

The cafe was quiet and warm when you entered, a few couples here and there were tucked away in booths chatting mindlessly. There was a dull ache spread throughout your chest and head from crying, ordering your coffee You couldn't help but notice the look of sympathy that sat on the barista's face.

You found a booth somewhere in the corner and dug your phone out of your purse and powered it on after having shut it off to stop the continuous buzzing it’d been doing in the car. To say the least it almost overheated and you couldn’t get to the silence button fast enough.

4 missed calls.

2 voicemails.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m so sorry, please forgive me.”

“I have lost my mind, I know.”

“Where are you my love?”

“Please just talk to me, or text either please.”

“I know I was wrong, it wasn’t my intention.”

“Fuck em.” This one was from Simon and it made you giggle.

A part of you wanted to message john and let him know you're okay to ease his mind, yet you didn’t instead you tucked your phone in the back pocket of your jeans. Maybe being this upset wasn't reasonable but the way he dismissed you with such harsh words intending to scare you, it was hard to get past.

Had you pushed too far? If you would have just left this could've been avoided, the anger that was spreading in your heart, the trouble of processing how to feel or move forward from this. To be fair John had never done anything to scare you or make you feel unsafe after all these years, even when he came home with blood still on his boots his eyes and voice were nothing but tender and loving. This is where you found trouble, how could he have changed so fast? How had he been so cold?

—--------

Back on base he was suffering, his heart ached with shame and remorse. How could he speak to you in such a way? Often he fell victim to his anger but this time so did you. He checked his phone continuously since you left here and it’d become clear to him you'd stopped somewhere before going home. He just wished he knew where.

The bowl of food hadn't been picked up from where your shaking hands had left it, the thought itself made him nauseous. He was fearful for the first time in a long while, for someone with so much control the thought of you leaving had him ready to crumble to the floor and maybe that's what he deserves.

The Men that were usually rowdy and causing commotion had fallen silent in his presence as he went for a cup of tea in the common area.

Price didn’t understand the blessing he held in the palm of his hands, to find someone as loving and caring as you was a once in a lifetime thing especially with the career he possessed. Bloody hands that get to go home to welcoming warm ones, a soldiers’ wish.

—------------

You sat around trying to pinpoint where the confusion in how to feel was but hopelessly gave up and decided it was time to head home. The chilly air outside made you shiver on the way to your car. The drive home was draining, music filled the silence followed by the wisp of the heater. You'd sleep in the yard to avoid anything john if you weren't so scared of the dark.

As your car arrived on the familiar gravely ground to your home, a deep sigh escaped you. Clutching your keys you headed to the door and jumped at the voice that came through the camera thing.

“Love please I’m sorry, where were you? I was worried?” The frantic yet somewhat calm voice of your husband came through. You thought of replying, yet you didn’t.

You walked inside, locking the door behind you and reset the alarm system. Your feet carried you mindlessly upstairs and to your bed, sleep came easy yet painfully that night but nevertheless any sleep was good sleep.

—-----------

John had never experienced your complete silence and couldn't take it. He decided he'd leave base early in the morning in hopes to resolve this with you, he wasn't even cleared to leave base but he couldn't really 100% be here if the idea of you hurting on your own was weighing on his mind.

—------------

Back at home was exactly that, you were wrong, any sleep wasn’t good sleep, the bed that you’ve slept in many nights without John had somehow felt emptier. Your head was pounding from a lack of sleep and crying, you waited for the ibuprofen you'd taken to kick in and just laid silently in bed . After a while you became lost in thought and missed the sound of tires on gravel but the slam of the door snapped you out of it.

Like a child you acted like you were sleeping instead of running out of bed into his arms like you normally would. His heavy boots climbed the stairs into your bedroom, you were sure he noticed your breathing pattern was one of an awake person but couldn’t find a reason to care.

“Darling.” He whispers and you feel the dent of his weight crease on the bed.

“I don’t want to see you right now John.” But you had wanted to see him, you were just scared this time you’d see him differently.

“Please, my love, talk to me.” It was a plea as his hand went to your thigh rubbing small circles into your soft skin.

“No.” Tears began to well in your eyes again, thankfully you chose to lay facing the window.

At that he raised from where he was sitting and rounded the bed kneeling beside your head, it broke his heart to see your puffy eyes and fresh tears streaking your beautiful face. His hand raised to caress your face and you stubbornly pulled away.

Instead of that he placed his forehead on yours not minding the way his rickety knees would ache tomorrow.

“You scared me.” You whispered, voice quivering with emotion.

“I know, I’m so sorry. I’d never hurt you willingly a day in my life. I just- I don’t know what came over me.” He kissed your forehead and then the tears that he was causing.

“No you don’t understand John.” You flipped your body the other way, suddenly feeling overwhelmed in his presence.

He wasn’t going to leave you too hurt although you wished he would. There was just enough room on the bed for him to lay beside you. He formed his body to yours holding you firmly.

At this you sobbed, the weight of your cries was devastating, as his body shook with yours he pulled you tighter to him.

“Your my wife and my equal I was beyond wrong I- I’m ashamed of my behavior you didn’t deserve that nor it will never happen again I promise i’ll never be the man that makes you hurt please forgive me.” he whispered into your hair soothing your erratic breathing back to somewhat stable.

“John.” you said between hiccups.

“Yes my darling.” he didn't like when you called him by his name but at least you were speaking to him.

“Im tired.” he was fucking hurting inside.

“Then sleep.” he nuzzled his nose deeper into the scent of your shampoo, you just nodded your head and let your eyes close, exhaustion showed no mercy as you immediately fell into a deep slumber.

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

the love on part 1 was amazing thankyou all from the bottom of my heart.

feedback and reposts are deeply appreciated;)

There will be a part 3;)

#john price #captain price x female reader #task force 141 #captain john price #john price x reader #angst #cod mw2

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4mnji · 6 months

Text

FORGIVE ME, BABY ᡣ𐭩 eren yeager x reader

synopsis: u find out ur fwb has been fucking other girls on the low and u hate being one of his options, so he comes over to “apologize” to you

warnings: kissessss, pussy eating, fingering, orgasm denial, choking, pet names (baby, my love, princess), eren is just a lil mean n nonchalant 😠, reader is kinda possessive hehe 🎀, reader and eren r both in their 3rd year of college, once again written with a black women in mind but anyone can read

wc: 1.4k

a/n: here’s another fic that has been collecting dust in my notes for a hot minute. i hope yall enjoy 💋

you’re chilling on your bed, scrolling through instagram bored outta your mind when you get a call from your fuck buddy, eren. you shot up from ur position on the bed making sure u looked good enough to answer the facetime call. when you were just about to pick up, you stopped in your tracks and let it ring until the call eventually went away.

you wanted to pick up, you really did but you had remembered that just a few days ago mikasa, your best friend, had sent you a screenshot of one of her instagram mutuals close friends post with a message undernesth it saying “isn’t that ur man??”. you clicked on the screenshot and it was a picture of eren and some random girl laying in bed, eren with his face buried deep into her neck displaying all the hickeys he must’ve gotten from her with her hand touching his back. you instantly knew it was eren because of the tattoo behind his ear. obviously you knew you and eren weren’t together and probably would never be, but you just couldn’t stand the sight of seeing him give the d to anyone else who wasn’t u when he could simply just hit you up if he wanted a good fuck. your phone dinged 2 times, making you snap out of your trance.

rennie 💋💋

why u ain’t pick up?

i have ur location, ik ur ass is home.

you rolled your eyes at his messages, deciding not to text him back and just call him instead. he picks up on the first ring, instantly questioning you, not even giving u a proper greeting. “why didn’t you pick up?” he says with a blank stare. “well hello to you too” you scoff which doesn’t go unnoticed by him but he chooses to ignore it. “i was in the bathroom.” you lied. eren nods his head, looking away from the camera not saying anything. there’s a moment of silence before he breaks it and shifts his focus back onto you. “i wanna come over, i miss you.” you shake ur head laughing a bit at his statement. “you don’t miss me, you was just with some other girl like 2 days ago. if you really missed me you would’ve came to me instead of her” eren opens his mouth to speak, but you countinue talking. “eren, you know how i feel about being one of your lil hoes. if you wanna have multiple girls on your roster and pick and choose who u want to fuck on what days, you can get the fuck off my line because i’m not gonna be apart of that bullshit.”

eren sighs and doesn’t say anything for a couple of seconds. he thinks about his next actions and choice of words carefully. on one hand, he can argue with you, which would then lead to you not talking to him for a week, ignoring all his messages and calls and then eventually you’ll get tired of doing that and tell him to come over so y’all can “talk”. or he can just agree with whatever you were saying—and he chose the latter. his patience was wearing thin, he actually did miss you and he didn’t want to jeopardize his chances of seeing you with some stupid argument.

after thinking out his words he finally speaks “you’re right princess, i’m sorry” he says trying to sound as sympathetic as possible. honestly, eren didn’t give a fuck if u did or didn’t like his lifestyle, he does whatever the hell he wants to do. however, he didn’t want u to get any more upset with him than u already were, so he decided to make u feel like u had the upper hand so u would let him come over.

you were about to open your mouth to say some slick shit to him because you knew that these type of conversations between the two of you always ended up in some type of back and forth argument, so you were taken aback when he not only agreed with what you were saying, but even apologized. and eren never apologizes. “im right?” u question, confusion laced in your tone. “yea baby, you are and i’m sorry for making you feel that way. i’ll stop fucking around with all these girls i promise, just let me come over so i can make it up to you properly” after hearing all of eren’s empty promises and him actually “agreeing” with what u had to say for once, you folded immediately and told him to come over. you probably would’ve been standing on buisness a little bit more if u didn’t crave his touch so much but you did, you needed wanted him badly.

once you gave eren the green light that he can come over he was there in less than fifteen minutes and had you butt naked on your bed in less than five.

“keep your legs up, baby” eren instructs and u do as he says. you lift your legs up, locking your arms around them to keep them in place. eren begins to kiss all over the lower half of your tummy and slowly trails down to your pretty pussy. his kisses are so sweet, slow, and sensual that is has your toes curling in the air.

“mmm ren..f-feels good” you mutter out while letting out soft moans. eren hums, which sends a little vibration into you. eren knew u were close, even if u didn’t tell him u were. he was always so good at reading u like a book, but for now he decided to play dumb by pulling away and pretending like he didn’t know why u let out that little grunt when he did. before you can question why he stopped he starts rubbing on your puffy clit while looking into your eyes.

“y/n, i really am sorry that i didn’t come to you the other day. i don’t know what i was thinking princess, you think you can forgive me?” eren coos at you, with a little smirk on his face that goes unnoticed by you since your head is in the clouds with the way he’s rubbing on you. when he doesn’t get a response he slaps your pussy, earning a loud whine from you. “you didn’t answer me my love. you forgive me?” he asks again. “y-yes eren…i-i forgive you!” u hardly manage to let out.

eren smiles at you before he gives the lower half of your stomach another wet kiss. he moves his head back down so he can start making out with your pussy again. he’s being so sloppy with it but lord it feels so good. you try to push eren’s head away but he doesn’t let up and instead starts adding two of his long digits into your wet pussy while eating it.

you had no more strength left in your body to push his head away with the way he was eating and fingering your pussy. “erennnn im so closeee!!” you whine. and just when you were about to have your release, eren stops. he lifts his body up so he can sit down straight on the bed and he looks down at ur trembling body and just laughs.

“rennn what are u doing…?” u question quietly. eren rests his large palm on the right side of your cheek “i’m glad you forgive me, but you know…” he pretends to think for a moment, “i never got an apology from you for telling me what to do and you know i hate that bossy shit” his hands slides up to your neck and he gives it a little squeeze just enough to make you cough a bit. you rest ur smaller hands on top of eren’s, mentally hoping that you can make him forgive you and he’ll forget about all this and just make you cum.

“r-ren i swear i wont do it again im really sorry i-“ eren cuts you off and leans down to press a quick kiss onto your lips that were now swollen from you biting on them previously. he lets go of your neck and gives you his signature annoying (but sexy) smirk and god you wished you could slap that stupid look off his face, but you’re in such a weak state right now from how he was eating you out </3.

“show me how sorry you are and maybe i’ll think about forgiving you, sound good princess?”

#forgive my shitty smut writing </3 #anyways i’m working on an ony fic yayyy #eren yeager #eren x black fem!reader #eren x black y/n #eren x black reader #eren yeager smut #eren x reader #eren x black!reader #x reader #eren aot #eren smut #aot fic #4mnji ᯓ★

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forteafy · 1 year

Text

Where Do We Go? | CL16 & CS55

Summary: Charles will do anything to fix his marriage with you, Carlos will do anything to prove you're worth more. The question is where do you go between the two men fighting for your affection?

Word Count: 9.7k

Warnings: angst, a lotta angst, cheating, light smut, character death.

Note: You all really wanted a Part 2 to this one, and of course, I wanted to deliver! This is a little bit more angsty, we’re trying to save a relationship, after all. Or…are we? Also, a massive thank you to @formulaforza for proof-reading this for me and pulling me up on my addiction to italics; my brain is literally jelly right now. Enjoy, everybody!

PART 1: A House, A Home | PART 2: Where Do We Go? | PART 3: 'You Think, You Know'

Carlos Sainz is a best friend.

Best friends, however, do not text a love confession to one another in the hours of a rising sun, especially not when their declaration is to a woman who is wrapped up in the arms of her husband.

The confession had run cold through your veins; if it hadn’t been for the sheer exhaustion taking over your body from the events of the past 48 hours, you were certain you would have been up the entire night, contemplating the words he had sent to you. He wasn’t drunk; far from it, the man had driven you down the dusky streets to your home mere hours before. Was he lonely? Did he feel sorry for you? More importantly, did he mean those precious words that had lit up your screen?

Eventually, the desire for sleep, for the warmth of your estranged husband’s chest pillowing your back overtakes your body. You hadn’t slept in a bed with him since the last day of your supposed honeymoon; even then, you had slept with an infinite gap between the two of you, cuddling instead into a pillow, rageful tears in your eyes at the realization that this was now your life.

This was entirely different. Charles pressed into you as if holding you together; his warm breath danced across the nape of your neck, a hand pressed into your stomach, cradling you between the warm blankets and soft cushions you had picked out when decorating your room. You didn’t rouse during the night, the two before had been filled with tears, constantly awakening to call for your mother as if you were a child again, the harsh realization that she wasn’t around anymore.

When you did wake, the bed was empty.

You had subconsciously turned in the blankets when you arose, expecting to see the figure of your husband next to you. The pillow was still rumpled, his glasses disappeared from the nightstand, every single trace of him had seemed to evaporate. Clearly, one night next to you had been a big enough mistake in his eyes.

Instead, your attention turns towards your phone. Silently, you remove the device from its charger, the homescreen being flooded with sympathetic messages and photographs of you arriving at your father’s home. Luckily, no photographs of Carlos picking you up himself had been released; that would have caused a frenzy which wasn’t desired on either side.

However, his last text to you that evening before still stayed burned into your screen. In curiosity, you’d once again opened the text thread, seeing th

e words stand strong, his confession to his feelings presents for your eyes. He had laid it out so clearly, Carlos Sainz was in love with you.

But, were you in love with him? You loved your family; you loved the smell of fresh candles. You adored the sounds of the fastest cars in the world racing around a track whilst you watched with ease. Did you categorize your best friend into the love you so carefully crafted? Was the desire you felt for contact solely directed towards him?

You never had time to answer yourself that morning. Your subconscious state recognised the sound of footsteps; it was most likely Charles, on his way to his own room for some private time. Maybe he’d have his mistress with him, having snuck out of bed early that morning to possibly go and pick her up himself.

The footsteps get louder, the door to your room opens, much to your confusion. In the doorway, stands your husband. You’ve never seen him like this; a soft smile, hair pushed back by a bandana, glasses resting on the bridge of his small nose. He’s dressed in a soft, grey jumper and matching tracksuit bottoms, fluffy socks warming his feet. In one arm, he cradles a washing bag. Upon closer inspection, you see that it’s your washing from the case you had lugged in the night before, ironed and folded. In his other hand, he holds a steaming mug of tea.

He looks beautiful like this, almost ethereal. He looks domestic.

“Good morning.” He speaks gently, as if any sudden sound would hurt you. You looked…so precious, covered in blankets, your pajamas covering your modesty. “I’m sorry I had to leave early. I went to get your washing done and…pick up some tea.” He offers, holding up the bag of washing in confirmation. Charles offers you a smile as walks into the room, placing the pile of clothing on your vanity. Cradling the mug of hot tea in his hand, he walks back over to where you’re now sat up, surrounded by soft furnishings, offering you the drink which you gladly accept.

It's a mediocre cup of tea at best; the teabag hasn’t diluted properly, there’s too little milk and too much sugar. Yet, the fact he had made the drink himself caused your heart to soften, despite the past twelve months of actions. You offer him a soft ‘thank you,’ as the drink touches your lips. You’re half-expecting him to stand up and leave immediately. Instead, Charles sits himself down on the edge of the bed, making certain he doesn’t sit on your outstretched legs.

There’s a moment of bliss; you’re somewhat enjoying the drink cradled in your hands, your husband’s eyes trained on your movements. At one moment, he reaches out his hand towards your face. You flinch, not too sure on what was happening, before his palm simply tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You can’t bring your own eye gaze to meet him, simply focusing on the hot drink in your hand. You can’t help but notice the way his shoulders fall, clearly not satisfied with the lack of eye-contact.

You can’t help it; it’s as if Charles believes with one night wrapped in his arms would solve the past twelve months. You couldn’t forget, not everything that had happened. Your husband had shattered this relationship, well and truly. He could only hope he’d realised in enough time to somehow win you back. Silently, he stands up from the edge of the comforter, walking towards the vanity, beginning to remove the clothing from its basket. It’s… humorous, to see him try and figure out where each category goes. It’s also a stark reminder of how this is ‘your’ room, not ‘our’ room.

Whilst picking out a rather revealing pair of panties, folding them up and placing them into your draw, he begins to speak again. “What are you doing this afternoon?” His voice is soft, but in the silent room it carries well.

You shrug, before realizing Charles has his back to you. “I’m…nothing much.” You cut yourself off, placing the cup of tea on your bedside table, letting your hands pull up the comforter a little higher. “My father is going to the funeral parlor today.” Are you…having a conversation with your husband? “How about you?”

“I have lunch with the Ferrari team this afternoon. Nothing serious, just a talk on the next part of the season.” He explains. Charles isn’t stupid; he knows despite your father’s input that you constantly worry about his job. Not because you care about his fame, wealth or power; you care about him.

“I was,” he takes a breath. “I was wondering if you would like to come along.”

You feel goosebumps prickle across your exposed skin. Charles Leclerc never invited you to his lunches. He’d always have a reason as to why his darling Mrs. Leclerc could never attend their lunch meetings alongside him. The only time you’d ever appear by his side, fingers harshly interlinked and a cold barrier between you both was when your father insisted upon it. He wouldn’t be there today, there was no way he’d be present for any form of meeting for a while now.

“You don’t have to, of course.” His explanation runs further. “I know it might be too much for you now. I just thought…maybe we could go for a drive after. Carlos and Xavi will be there, you’ll know some of the others from the Paddock…” His voice trails off in your mind. It had started to the moment he had said the Spaniards name.

Were you… ready to see Carlos? The day after a text message you had never thought you’d see. Would he acknowledge the message, was it a drunken mistake? Most importantly, did you want him to love you?

When you come back out of your trail of thoughts, Charles is still talking, carefully hanging one of your summer dresses onto a velvet coat hanger. He takes a moment to brush the fabric under his fingertips, feeling the soft cotton under his touch. He’s so gentle. The touch is almost identical to the way he had held you mere hours ago.

“I’ll come.” You cut him off, watching as his head snaps in your direction, eyes bright underneath his glasses. “Yeah. It will be…nice.” You finish your sentence, trying not to ramble or to float off topic. Charles’ eyes are still bright, elated you had decided to come alongside him. All he had to do now was fix every other mistake spanning over twelve months.

Carlos Sainz is a red-wine gentleman.

You’d immediately spotted him the moment you had entered the waterside restaurant; his back was to the entrance, but you’d recognise the powdered blue shirt and dark wisps of hair in any circumstance. You could have just walked over, stood next to him and ordered a drink, but your fingers stayed tightly interlocked with your husbands, a force of habit in public at the current rate.

However, his grasp, like the entirety of his actions over the past twenty-four hours, was different. Charles’ thumb gently stroked over your knuckle, his fingers gently resting against yours instead of the firm grip he usually held for the sake of actions. He’d taken a moment to look at you before entering the building, something he’d never done in the past, simply having dragged you into whatever location instead. It was as if his eyes told you a million things; that he had your back and the moment you wanted to leave, he was right behind you.

The moment you’re in the presence of company, the façade still comes alive, the act you had been creating for all this time is still a force of habit. Charles’ hand comes around your waist, greeting the many members of the Scuderia Ferrari team, thanking them for his time and attention to the matter. As always, you tactfully excuse yourself from the side of your husband, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek and removing yourself from the crowd. Usually, he wouldn’t so much as flinch from the chaste action, but you don’t miss his eyes longing for you to stay this time.

Instead, your heel-clad feet press through the tiles of the place, making advancements towards the white marbled-bar. You receive a nod from the friendly-looking gentleman mixing cocktails, a silent signal to let him know when you’re ready. Maybe you stand too close to Carlos, so much so that you can smell his cologne, you can feel his body warmth radiating through that shirt. It doesn’t take long for him to notice your presence, his eyes widening upon the realization that it was, in fact, you–the woman he had confessed his feelings to less than twelve hours ago.

“I didn’t realize you’d be here, Mariposa,” he taunts, pulling you into his side. You’re grinning immediately, happy to be reunited with your close friend after how he had left you last night, promising he’d be there if you needed anything. “Come to make sure your husband behaves?”

“No. I came to see how his teammate is behaving.” You let him ponder for a moment, but he realizes, the blush growing from his neck to his cheeks. “I’m a married woman, Carlos.” You remind him but make no attempt to move further away. The idea is completely eradicated when his hand comes out to rest on the small of your back. His eyes are still fixed on you. He knows he shouldn’t be doing this. It’s not fair to you. He couldn’t care less about his teammate’s position, the way he’s treated you all this time leaves a sour taste on his tongue.

“Your marital status doesn’t change the way I feel for you.” He thinks back to that moment in the ocean. What on Earth would be happening if he had kissed you at that moment? He could never be certain, but something tells him you’d be his date to this luncheon right now. Sighing, Carlos turns to face you directly, the bottle of wine he had originally come to pick up having been left on the counter.

“I’m going to ask you something, and you don’t have to respond.” He tries to keep his breathing calm, your presence practically overpowering him. “But...I would love to take you out for a date sometime. A proper date. With flowers and dinner and being able to make you smile.” Your heart is softening by the moment with the Spaniard’s pleads of everything your husband had never given you. “Would you like that?”

“I would.” You don’t even have to think of your response. “I would like that, Carlos.” At that moment, your estranged husband is the last thought of your mind; instead it’s overpowered by the fantasies of a date with the man standing in front of you. This time, Carlos can’t help the grin on his lips, reaching for the bottle of red wine on the bar. His careful hands carefully unlatch the stopper, the liquid hitting two crystal glasses, one of which he passes to you.

“Well, shall we toast the idea, no?” he holds up the glass delicately, to which you raise your own, grinning at the satisfying sound of clinking crockery. When you take a sip of the rich red, you’re blissfully unaware of your husband’s eyes; the ones which are never attached to you, but in that moment, don’t want to focus on anything else. Nobody misses the way he purposely sits between yourself and his teammate, fingers interlocked into yours tightly, the occasional kiss on the temple of your head.

You were his wife, after all.

Carlos Sainz is a brilliant cook.

The intimacy between yourself and your husband had oddly grown within the past week. To start, his messages became more frequent, checking in when he couldn’t be at the house. Your pantry had stocked overnight, begging for your home cooking whenever he could be there to sample it. Most importantly, the interaction. You’d been hesitant to even let your husband touch you in the beginning. You had kept it simple, a hug before you’d headed off to bed in your room, (sleeping in the same bed as him had been that one-off.) His arms would find their way onto your waist if you were cooking, his fingers would tuck a lock of hair behind your ear when you found yourself engrossed in studies.

Your husband had been elated when you had spoken to him two days before he was due to leave for Qatar, announcing you would like to attend alongside him; it was also your father’s wishes to attend that race, wanting to signal to his fellow associates that he was okay, that you could pass on a message from your family. Charles’ eyes had glossed over with happiness, taking your hand in his own, pressing a kiss to the back of your knuckles.

You were ready for your entrance to the Paddock 72 hours later; after arriving in Qatar, you’d barely seen anything from the transport from his jet to the hotel. Your eyes had grown heavy the moment your feet were removed from their shoes, two large beds welcoming you with their soft blankets and heavy pillows. (He’d made sure to give you the sleeping space that you needed.) Charles’ heart had softened when he’d seen you curl into one bed. When he returned from the bathroom, you were out like a light.

It didn’t stop him from gently rubbing a makeup wipe over your features, knowing you’d regret your lack of attention to appearance in the morning. Hesitantly, he leans forward, pressing a kiss to your hairline, one hand stroking over the back of your head before he returns to unpacking both yours and his suitcase.

You had been hesitant of attending the Paddock alongside Charles that morning, not because you were worried of the bombarding questions. No, this was the first time you had attended the paddock with a husband who seemed comforted by your presence. His heart felt gentle when he saw you look out of the front windscreen, eyes transfixed on the countless photographers standing by the barriers. Immediately, his hand finds yours, resting atop your thigh, the hot weather pleading for a cooler outfit.

“You don’t have to do this.” He removes his sunglasses, those ocean eyes finding your own. “You can wait here, or I can have somebody drive you back to the hotel now.” He promises, the worry flickering over his face. Your hand removes itself from his firm grasp, instead reaching forward and resting your hand on his bristled cheek.

“I’m okay.” You promise him, thumb dancing over his soft cheekbone. He offers you a soft smile, eyelashes fluttering as your face gets closer to his; you have no panic leaning over the console of the hire-car, gently pressing a warm kiss to the cheek your hand wasn’t resting upon. You can’t help but hesitate when you pull back from his face, lingering within mere millimeters of his lips for a long moment; you could just lean forward, press your lips to his and give into all those nights you had dreamed of. But this wasn’t a dream; this was your husband whom you needed to fix a relationship with first.

Charles isn’t going to lean forward and kiss you himself, not until the signals you are giving him are crystal clear. Instead, he presses his forehead close to yours, tips of your noses gently brushing against one another before he steps out of the car, and you’re quick to follow.

This time, he doesn’t walk in silence, ignoring your presence. Instead, as the two of you flash your paddock passes towards the security guards, he’s openly commenting on different happenings around Media Day, both of you falling into giggles upon seeing Toto Wolff’s broken arm; he was truly beginning to become an icon at the local emergency room. You’re happy. Subdued in a bubble alongside your husband, hands interlocked as you work your way through the paddock.

You’ve never experienced such a harsh blow to reality when you see an all-too-familiar figure lurking outside of the Williams Racing building. Her hair is shorter, her skirt is skimpier and a ghastly color. However, she still looks beautiful. She is undoubtedly the woman you’ve fought and lost your husband’s affection from, his mistress.

Charles seems to clock less than a moment after you do, both bodies freezing upon notifying her presence. You seem to have a quicker reaction time, despite being in the presence of a world-class Formula Driver. Immediately, you rip your grasp from Charles’ hand, showing him no emotion as you step away and into the Ferrari Building. You’re fortunate enough to avoid most of your fathers’ colleges, only once having to stop to give a sympathizing message of your mothers’ passing, the words being used are minute compared to the ache in your heart for her presence.

When you reach the top of the dark stairs, almost certain you can hear Charles’ voice below you. He’s searching for you now, but instead is overwhelmed by the amount of people in his presence. You’re able to sneak through the makeshift corridor, finding a large number ’55,’ pressed onto the door. You don’t even think, opening the door to a very tanned, very shirtless Carlos Sainz.

He's so… toned. The natural light from the window is reflecting beautifully onto his chest, broader than you’d last seen during your adventures at sea. His shorts hang low on his waist, making no attempt to shift his body despite your appearance. Instead, his dressing is overtaken by his concern for your face, immediately dropping the shirt fisted in his right hand, taking your gentle face in between both of his palms. You didn’t even realize the tears resting on your cheeks, the fear glossed over in your eyes that you’d ever trusted Charles.

Carlos doesn’t need to ask; he saw her on his own entry to the Paddock. Admittedly, he had to double-take; surely Charles wouldn’t have the audacity to bring his mistress to the other side of the world. He didn’t bother to glance in her direction too long, instead greeting the Ferrari team, excusing himself to go and get changed for their upcoming press appearances. In this moment, he’s held you against his bare chest, hushing you gently as one hand threads through your hair. Your mind is overwhelmed, from seeing your husband’s mistress, but from being pressed against his oh-so warm chest.

You don’t even realize, but your palms are resting on his chest, his skin so soft beneath your touch. Carlos gently hushes you, tilting your head up to face him, still cradled in his grasp. He could so easily reach forward, claim you there and then, but he realizes in that moment, under your soft touch and those doe eyes, you are the one who has claimed him. After a moment, he pulls back, motioning for you to follow him towards the couch, littered in Spanish-themed cushions and the enormous chili plushie you had bought him several months ago.

You can’t help the slight disappointment when Carlos eventually slips on his Ferrari Polo; however, you are interested when he reaches for his small fridge, pulling out a neat lunchbox, motioning for you to grasp it whilst he reaches for another. Curiosity takes the better of you, gently unclasping the lid of the Tupperware box. A beautiful aroma overtakes your senses, a carefully crafted meal nestled into the lunchbox. The Spaniard can’t help but grin at your reaction; sometimes something as simple as a homemade meal could lift your spirits.

And that’s how you spent the next forty-five minutes, sat on the sofa of Carlos Sainz’s driver room, the man sat on the floor as the two of you exchanged bites of food. There’s one particular moment where you offer him a spoonful of your lunchbox, watching as he arches his torso towards you.

It’s almost…sensual, the way his lips wrap around the top of the spoon, maintaining sole eye contact as he retracts his mouth from the utensil, letting his tongue trace around his lips for a chase of the taste. He knows what he’s doing; in his mind, all he wants is to show how adored you could be, to show he could be everything your husband never was.

It isn’t until Charles is finally free from the bombarding questions of his sponsors that he finally locates you in Carlos’ room. The man isn’t oblivious; he can see that the two of you have grown undeniably close. He can’t bring himself to say anything on the matter. He knows, in his heart of hearts, he has no right to make any assumptions; he was the one who had spent hours with a mistress, after all. Silently, he opens the door to the driver’s room, your figure perched upon the sofa, a grin plastering your soft features. You looked happy.

You looked like the most beautiful girl he had seen in his life.

You acknowledge his presence after a few moments, standing up from your place on the sofa, insisting the man tries Carlos’ cooking. It takes less than a few blinks of your eyes for him to submit, taking the spoonful off your utensil, making a comment towards his teammate that he would have to give him some lessons at some point. The man says nothing, simply nodding in a passive agreement.

There’s a sharp call for Charles after he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. He shoots both you and his teammate an apologetic look before he makes his way down the corridor, gently closing the door behind him as to give you a sense of privacy; the last thing he wanted was to have you plastered all over social media pages when he knew it would purely be used for publicity purposes.

You’re still smiling when the door closes, your back to Carlos’ front. “He seems to like you-“

You were destined to never finish that sentence. Within a split moment, there are warm hands, rough hands resting on either side of your waist, twisting your body within his grasp. He takes two steps backwards, enough pacing to have your back pressed against the closed door: the coldness of the wood contrasting violently with the heat radiating off your best friend.

He couldn’t hold any emotion. Carlos Sainz wears his heart on his sleeve. That much is adamant, from the way his text messages were drafted, to the way he tilts his head, meshing his lips to your own.

They’re surprisingly soft; there’s nothing soft in the way his hands grasp at your waist, the way his body is pressing so deeply into yours. Yet, as his lips continue to entrance yours, they feel like clouds; a gentle stroke of a paintbrush. His artistry continues when his kisses get deeper, one of his hands enclosing yours, bringing it to rest around his shoulders, pushing the two of you closer together. Your other hand is interlocked by his, being stretched above your head, pinned to the door you’re resting upon.

He's waited so long for this, before lunch, before your moment in the sea. He’s wanted this since the moment you walked into the Ferrari Paddock alongside your father, you must have been etched into his heart.

Carlos isn’t thinking; his kisses are becoming rougher, one hand blindly reaching for your leg, almost bare from the shorts you had opted from your wardrobe earlier. He guides it to rest upon his hip, grunting when he can feel his hardened crotch press between your legs. His reality comes crashing down when he feels the cool band on your fingers entangling in his hair. Your wedding ring.

Ragged breaths, panting, he pulls away from your lips, pressing his forehead to your own in a sheer plea of comfort. Both your breaths are synchronized, both grasping for some form of air in the room.

“You’re everything, Mariposa.” He whispers, closing his dark eyes, enjoying his moment, taking every opportunity to imprint the feeling of your body, of your lips into his mind. He prays this won’t be the last time he holds you this way.

Carlos Sainz is a fast texter.

In the moments after you had shared the intimacy, hidden away in his driver’s room, he’s gone into a sheer panic. He’d overstepped, he’d made an advancement on you at your most vulnerable. When he had left for the press alongside your husband, he didn’t have a single chance to pull you aside, not when you had left the moment after the duo had been pulled into their press conferences. Simply, you were not waiting around to catch glimpses of the mistress, still proudly flocking around the Paddock as if it was her home.

It had taken a matter of moments to request a car home, having slipped out of the Ferrari building, talking to one of your father’s colleagues about your departure. Silently, you paced out of the building, a direct beeline towards the car park, head down from the ever-present photographers.

You hadn’t expected a text from either your husband or his teammate, considering that they were both in press conferences until further notice. However, when you had felt and grasped the device in your shorts, you had immediately noticed the soft vibrations, pulling your device out of your pocket, your eyes being illuminated by the screen of your phone. Two text messages. One from your father, one from Carlos. Your attention is drawn to the latter, curious on what your best friend has to say.

11:32: Carlos Sainz:

I’m really, truly sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable. I haven’t seen Charles yet to let him know you left. You don’t have to see me again if you do not wish.

11:36: You

It wasn’t you at all, I promise! I was aware that Charles’ mistress was about, I couldn’t stick about for that.

Carlos messages you back, almost immediately. You’re confused, considering he is due to be in press alongside Charles. He could be having a break; he could have completely skipped out on several media appearances.

11:38: Carlos Sainz

I wish you could have stayed longer. I meant what I said, every single word. Please let me know if you need anything.

11:41: You

I know, C. I appreciate it, even if I express it terribly. I’ll always be here for you, too. Always.

You never get to see the next message that Carlos sends to you. Instead, your phone starts ringing, an incoming call from your father. You’re certain that the chauffeur won’t mind you taking the call whatsoever, holding the device to your ear as your father’s tone fills the void, his words becoming numbing as he runs through the details of your mother’s funeral, the tears in his voice beginning to swell heavily.

Charles had left the Paddock as soon as he got notice of your departure. He hadn’t bothered to message, his sole focus being on returning to the hotel, to find out what on Earth had happened to you. He was fortunate enough to escape the wandering eyes of his ex-mistress, how on Earth she had gotten into the Paddock for that race was beyond him, especially since he had ceased contact from that day.

The car arrives swiftly outside of the hotel; immediately, Charles is rushing through the back entrance, beelining for the staircase; waiting for an elevator at this moment would be too much. Within moments, he’s fumbling for his key card, pushing the door open, his heart shattering at the vision in front of him.

You, his wife, sat on the edge of one of the king-size beds; your head is buried into your hands, heavy sobs racking through your body. He can see the goosebumps littering your skin, the solemn shakes running through you, the trauma of losing somebody you cared about so deeply, combined with a cocktail of emotions from your entrance to the Paddock had become too much.

He doesn’t care about boundaries, not at this point. Immediately, Charles has crouched in front of you, his gentle hands reaching to grasp around your wrists. There’s a flinch at the sudden contact; your skin had overheated from the sheer energy of crying; your husband’s cool touch was a stark contrast which made you shiver. Delicate touches pull your hands away from your eyes. They’re so red, so swollen. Had he ever made you react like that from his own actions. The Monegasque doesn’t want to question that right now, he can’t even bring himself to look into your broken eyes. Instead, he feels as your arms wrap around his neck, hiding your face in his neck, craving for somebody to just…hold you.

Your husband has no issue in that desire; he lets you remain like that, Charles on his knees whilst you cling to him, the tears dampening through his shirt. One hand slides across your back, kneading gentle circles into your skin. At some point, you move onto the bed, the man lying back on the soft furnishings whilst you rest your head on his chest, arms encircling you as if he could hold you together, until the storm in your mind passes.

When the tears subside, you finally find the energy to look up to your husband. He hadn’t reached for his phone, tried to find some form of entertainment whilst he held you to his chest for hours. Instead, his gaze had been fixed upon you, brushing a gentle stroke over your cheek, his fingers dancing against your skin, brushing away the tension from heavy lines and sobs. When your eyes do open, you’re greeted with a soft smile, Charles leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head.

“Do you need some water?” His concern is to bring you back up to health; now the tears have stopped, he can do this. “I can order some food; would you like that?” His voice is so quiet, as if a simple loud sound could shatter through your veins. You can’t muster up more than a nod, your body becoming colder when Charles’ gently shifts away, sitting up so he can reach for the telephone. His voice is so mesmerizing, speaking down the line as he requests different foods; he doesn’t mind how much he orders, if he can coax you into even eating a little, the man will be satisfied.

The call finishes, but the man doesn’t sink back down into his previous position. Instead, whilst he remains sat up, Charles guides you to join him, your body still aching from your emotional breakdown. He murmurs under his breath as he pulls you into his lap, your body is tense until his strong arms wrap around your waist, the warmth instantly allowing you to relax, lean back into his firm chest.

“I’ve wanted to speak to you for a few days.” His voice is soft, but the phrase causes you to feel a sharp panic dance down your chest. Surely, this can’t be good. The relationship had evolved from barely speaking to intimate conversations within a span of two weeks. You try, try so hard to keep a clear mind as your husband continues to address you.

“How I’ve acted…how I treated you, all that time-“ He must stop himself, trying not to let his own emotion overpower his words. “I’m never going to be able to take it all back, and I will never be able to stop apologizing for it.” His whispers, his eyes growing misty with regret. “I will never forgive myself for how I treated you, nor do I ever expect you to forgive me. But…I want to try. I want to try and spend the rest of my days as you husband. I know…it won’t be overnight, but I’ll do anything, anything for you.”

The tears are rolling down your own cheeks now; never, in your wildest dreams, did you expect for Charles to speak those words of affirmation to you. His hand moves cautiously, to your face, wiping the tears which were pooling across your features.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers, letting one of his hands remain on your cheek. The man leans forward, pressing gentle butterfly kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your nose…he pauses, mere inches from your lips. He wants to kiss you; he’d promised himself he wasn’t going to push you; his mind and his heart are complete opposites.

His mind goes into overdrive when you lean forward and press your lips to his own. They’re salty, slightly chapped, but undeniably something he has been craving for oh-so-long. Charles is immediately kissing you back, his grip around you tightening, keeping your body close to his own. Carefully, he shuffles the two of you back into a lying position, never once breaking the kiss, tumbling back onto the mattress.

Of course, you don’t miss his grumble of annoyance when the food eventually arrives.

Carlos Sainz is a gentle kisser.

An autumn breeze was strong on the dreaded day; the funeral had rolled around way too soon for your liking. Rows of family connections, close and distant friends lined the outside of the cemetery, eyes all transfixed on the black hearse rolling into view. Murmurs were pressed into silence, a bitter air all-too present as the ivory coffin was removed from the vehicle. Your elder brother and two cousins were to assist in carrying the piece into the church. Plans were soon suspended when the eldest of your siblings collapsed into tears, head in his hands upon the sheer realization that this was it.

Your father is desperately looking around, practically praying outside a place of worship that the eldest could pull himself together; it’s impossible. Whilst one of your arms is occupied, holding the hand of your young sister, the other gently wraps around his torso, comforting him in the ways he had done for you when you were nothing more than a young girl in messy braids and mismatched socks.

His wife stood on his right-hand side, adamant on consoling the man as you were, a caring hand running across his back. Your husband stood next to your sister, her childish eyes blinking in confusion; just like you, she had never seen her brother this inconsolable.

Charles feels a pain wash through him, he wants nothing more than to help his dear family through this moment. Maybe the act he was playing for so long was just a way of shielding himself from caring. Now he had bared his soul towards you, pleading for a second chance, the man wanted to be there for you, in every sense of the word.

He murmurs something incoherently, stepping away from your side, leaning towards your father’s ear. Whatever he mumbles is met with a sharp nod, a firm pat on the shoulder in confirmation. Your husband keeps a firm gaze on the coffin, not catching your own eyes as he walks towards the piece to join your cousins. There’s a quick whisper between the men, before the ivory is shuffled from the car, resting on their suit-clad shoulders. Silence falls over the attendants as your mother is carried into the church, immediate family following closely behind. Hesitantly, your eyes look to the crowding people, and as if by fate, you see his dark eyes, the fluffy curls brushed back to conform. He shouldn’t look that good in a dark suit.

Most noticeably, his gaze isn’t fixed on the church, on the six men carrying your mother. It’s transfixed on you.

The service is beautiful, if you can describe it like that. Flowers are placed atop of your mother’s coffin, the service of words correlating to her soul, the hymns sung were always her favorite when you had frequented church as a young girl. However, there’s a turning point. When the priest begins to speak of her dear children, tears pool in your lower lash-line. You want to take the time for yourself, to mourn, but louder sobs are emitting from next to you; the youngest child is beginning to realize her mother is truly gone.

You’re torn; pulling her towards you would only make you cry harder; you had already seen your father and brother fall apart, silently knowing you would have to be the one to wait by the door, thanking the copious guests for attending. Her tears are suddenly quietened when you see her gently shuffled into Charles’ lap; despite the estranged relationship for the past twelve months, he’d always had a soft spot for your sister, she reminded him of when Arthur was young. Whilst her tears turn softer, he runs a hand over her back, letting the young girl rest her heavy head in his sternum.

The open gap in the seating allowed for you to shuffle closer towards your husband, his free arm wrapping around your torso. You had to remain sitting up straight; his presence right now would have to be enough for your comfort. To any unassuming eye, you would probably look like a family, the crowds of attendants would have no idea of the true story behind your marriage. Even on the darkest days, the narrative was played well.

When the service draws to a close, final prayers are spoken. The first to rise are your father and brother, both clinging to one-another as they must leave the building. Silently, you pull yourself away from your husband’s grasp, smoothing the skirt of your dress. Charles remains seated, your sister practically passing out atop of him. Today had been a heavy day for a child, after all.

There are rows of people pausing to console you on your loss whilst you stand at the door of the church; friends you had known for oh-so-long, members of the Scuderia Ferrari team; you had never seen Fred Vasseur cry, but the redness of his eyes told you something completely different as he took one of your hands in his, squeezing it in apology.

The pews filter out silently, a large group of the guests making their way back to your father’s home, the wake soon to begin, a blessing and want of your late mother. Sharp footsteps are emitted through the church, the penultimate duo being your husband and sister. He was still carrying her, head resting on his shoulder, almost completely asleep. Charles smiles at finally seeing you, using his free hand to run across the back of your head.

“I’m going to take her back.” Charles explains to you. He understands you don't need the pressure of looking after her atop of everything else bound to come your way. “Let me know when you’re done here, please?” Silently, you nod, no hesitation needed as he leans forward, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, bidding you farewell as he paces out of the church, holding your sister tightly in comfort.

You believe that’s everybody, ready to collect your belongings and thank the priest for a heart-warming farewell. Before you can even think to turn around, there’s a light cough, emitting you to spin on your heel.

He’s there. Still clad in his designer suit, hair pushed back behind his ears. Undeniably, Carlos Sainz looks good in any situation. He holds your bag in one hand, the other reaching out to clasp around your wrist. You gasp at the warm skin pressing to your own, heat radiating through your body. The man leans down, letting his lips brush against your own, a sweet feathering brush pressing onto you. Carlos wanted to be there for you, more than ever on what would be the hardest day.

Seeing Charles take that position had made his blood boil.

His grip on you remains tight as he leads you out of the church and towards his own car, parked in the most secluded section of the lot. When his grip falters to hold your hand instead, he doesn’t aim to correct it, instead only holding tighter. He only removes his grasp to unlock his car, sliding himself into the driving seat, pushing the recliner back as far as it would go. When the space is present, he guides you to rest atop of his lap, arms tightening around your waist as he lets the door close, bodies pressed together tightly.

“Is this okay?” He murmurs, keeping your faces so close together. The built-up emotion, the desire since your last kiss had built a fire in your stomach, not so much as speaking before pressing your lips to his own. Whilst your own movements had become desperate, craving for some form of emotional release, his remained feather-light, one hand tangled into your hair, the other resting firmly on your waist.

His lips are soon ghosting over your cheek, fluttering across your jawline and landing on your neck, small whines emitting from your lips as he seeks to trace his tongue over your sweetest spot. The sensation across your body, the hot touch of his skin and an undeniable bulge now settling between your legs.

There’s a sudden realization that you needed to go home. Being with Carlos was the affection you desired, your heart knows however that right now, your family needs you. Hesitantly, you pull away from the man’s lips, feeling utterly guilty for the pleading look in his eyes as you rest your forehead against his own. He could never hate you for it, though. In his eyes, you could never draw that feeling from him. You don’t need to say anything, he knows.

“I’ll drive you back.” He murmurs, pressing one final kiss to your lips before allowing you to slide into the leather passenger seat.

The drive to your father’s home is almost silent; there’s an occasional rev of the engine, various horns from different cars along the highway. A part of you always prays that each drive with the Spaniard could last forever, you could drive into the distance and live happily ever after. The fairy-tale is soon dissolved when you pull to the driveway, hearing the engine of the car cease. Your eyes find Carlos’ side profile, still transfixed on the road ahead.

“Are you coming in?” You ask gently. He sighs, the grip on his steering wheel becoming tighter.

“I can’t see you that close to him, Mariposa.” He murmurs, finally finding the courage to look you in the eyes. “Not when I want to be that close to you.” One hand finds its way off the wheel, entwining your fingers together, peppering light kisses against your knuckles. “Please call me when you go back. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.” You whisper, leaning to press a kiss to his stubbled cheek. In that moment, Carlos Sainz is your savior. He’s your truth.

Carlos Sainz is a liar.

Your knuckles had turned white from the grasp on your phone, you didn’t want to believe anything you were seeing. What was supposed to be an impromptu browse of Twitter whilst waiting for your husband to finish in the en-suite, had turned into a deep dive through a certain hashtag, having seen information spread on a certain Ferrari driver.

It had started as a simple few tweets, some fans and gossip pages reckoning they had seen the driver in an exclusive club, some random blonde sitting on top of him. The photos came second, though the angle was skewed, the quality too weak to see who was there. The final nail was the video; Carlos’ hand placed on her waist, how he had done to you mere hours ago, his mouth pressing against hers, clearly nothing else on his mind.

Granted, you knew you had no right to feel the anger you did; after all, you were married, Carlos was a single man, free to do as he desired. Yet, your rage was fuelled by the romantic, now seemingly empty promises he had made you; how you were his everything, how he would treat you better than Charles ever did. He was no different than Charles Leclerc, and as your fumbled fingers reached to his contact, your rage felt inclined to tell him that.

The phone rings once, twice, three times. You’re set to hang up, leave a particularly nasty text message to the man before the line connects. Immediately, your eardrums are overtaken by the loud pulse of a nightclub, some feminine laughter almost directly on top of him.

“Are you okay?” He asks. Clearly, he’s now intoxicated, his accent is always thicker when he is. You hear another voice, telling him to hang up the phone and to come and dance with her. “Hey- are you there?”

“I’m here.” You snap; why do you feel this enraged? You must have done so when you first saw Charles with his mistress; that had become such a common occurrence that the fire in your stomach must have eventually drained. “And clearly, you’re busy with the woman climbing all over you.”

“Fuck- you left me hanging!” He retorts, drunken mind clearly pressing against any form of sober thought. “You went back to your husband. Left me with nothing. Fuck the funeral.” He snaps, clearly now becoming enraged with the entire situation, with the fact he had been caught out. The words pressed through the speaker of your phone and emitted a wave of sobs from your stomach, immediately pressing the red button on your device.

Carlos Sainz wasn’t in love with you. He just liked the distraction.

Of course, as fate would have it, the moment that your tears began again was the moment Charles had left the bathroom. He’s dressed in just a pair of boxers, chest bare and tone after his warm shower. The sound of the door opening caused you to turn to the source. His eyes widen, scampering towards you, cradling you in his arms, bare chest against your cheek. Silently, you sob into his body for the third time that day, wanting nothing more than for every form of pain to stop.

“Hey, come on.” He whispers, arms circling your body, pulling you tight against him. He thinks that seeing you cry will get easier each time, that the pain in the pit of his stomach won’t continue to eat him away. However, it never gets easier; he hates seeing you cry, every single time. “It’s been a long day, yeah? Let’s get some sleep, baby.”

The nickname sounds foreign on his tongue, though neither of you question it. If anything it causes more emotion to flicker through your body, the fact that your estranged husband was finally beginning to give you. Silently, he guides the two of you into the large bed, cradling you to his chest as he had done whilst in Qatar. Sleep and emotion overtake you, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder as a ‘thank you,’ before drifting into a state of slumber.

The sleep means you miss a vital update from the Twitter threads you had been closely following earlier.

‘Carlos Sainz leaves exclusive club ALONE, despite dating rumors arising with mystery blonde.’

Carlos Sainz is your best friend.

You returned to the following day; the entire time remaining at your father’s house had consisted of nothing but tears. You had been especially concerned for your sister, watching the way she had clinged to Charles when the duo was saying their fond farewells. After a tight hug from each family member, your husband hand interlinked your fingers together, guiding the two of you to his own car, each free hand carrying along the suitcases.

The first hour of the drive home had been quiet, the buzzing streets had morphed into greenery, the sun beginning to set across the coast. Your eyelids couldn’t find it to grow heavy, having done nothing but sob and sleep for the past twenty-four hours. Instead, your focus turned to the radio, a familiar song trickling out of the speaker, one you hadn’t heard in almost eighteen months.

“Is this…” You ask, fingers reaching towards the dial, turning the volume up slightly. Behind his sunglasses, Charles grins. You hadn’t expected him to recognise the song, let alone be aware of where he recognised it from.

“Our first dance.” Your husband laughs, both nodding your head to the music. One hand on the wheel, he reached out his other hand to grasp yours on his own, a gentle squeeze passing through each hand. “We’ll have to dance to it again, properly next time.” He promises to himself, eyes focused on the road as he continues to drive you both home.

It’s almost dark by the time you have arrived back at your driveway. The stones are dipped in the darkness, the only illumination being from the headlights of Charles’ iconic vehicle. Your eyes flicker towards the doorstep, convinced the sleep is playing tricks on your mind; why on earth was there a figure standing on the doorstep to your house? They were slim, feminine, holding a cream envelope in one hand, a designer bag resting atop the other.

The familiar feeling of who she was began to nestle in your stomach. Surely, it couldn’t have been her; even your husband would not have the audacity to invite her to the house, right after you had returned home from what was quite possibly the saddest moment of your life. It couldn’t be her, even if every sign pointed towards the truth, you’d begin to search for the tiniest detail; her hair was too short. Your stomach snaps when you realize it’s the identical haircut from the Paddock mere days ago.

“What on earth-“ You hear your husband begin to speak, turning off the engine to the car. He looks over to your figure, but you show no emotion, no reaction on the exterior. Immediately, he has stepped out of the car, violently slamming the door behind him, causing you to snap out of the trance the woman had placed you upon.

Your eyes fixed upon Charles, his mistress trying to reach out into his touch. She’d pressed the envelope into his hand, continuing to speak. The words were clear through the thin glass of the car’s windscreen, divorce, pictures, evidence.

You couldn’t stick around to watch this activity play out. Immediately, you reach out for your phone, breathing uneven as you scroll through the contact list, searching for his name. Despite the last twenty-four hours, you were not too sure who else to call. It takes less than a moment for him to answer, your words rambling and falling over one another, pleading for him to come and collect you. He speaks firmly, commanding you to stay in the car, he would be there as soon as possible.

Charles is so deep in conversation, pleading for his mistress to reconsider, that he doesn’t see you slip out of the car, stepping down the driveway into the awaiting car of Carlos Sainz. He makes no intention to show you affection when first stepping into the vehicle, his only intention to get you out of the situation as soon as possible. Whilst silence filled the space between you both, you had sent a text to your husband, confirming your disappearance.

23:01: You

I’m so sorry, I can’t be there when she is, not anymore. I’ll be back at the house tomorrow. Thank you for everything.

There’s no response. If you’re completely honest, you were not expecting anything else, not whilst he was engrossed in conversation. The street is quiet as you pull into Carlos’ driveway. Saying nothing, the man simply removes his keys from the ignition, before leaning over your frame to open your door, ever the gentleman. Of course, his eyes catch yours as he leans back, creating a deep gaze for oh-so-long. Carefully slipping out of his gaze, you leave the car, walking up the steps to his apartment, the door opening for your arrival.

It's homely. Clearly lived in. Shoes are thrown across the entrance mat, coats hanging in the rack. Although it is primarily basic, a little bare, there’s touches around the complex which warm your heart; a photograph of the man with his sisters and father, a helmet you immediately recognise as Lando Norris’ resting atop of a bookshelf. There’s fine wine glasses resting atop of his coffee table; clearly ready for their usage before your untimely call.

The details become irrelevant the moment you feel his warm arms circle around your middle; the rising of your hoodie lets his body heat radiate onto yours. Carlos doesn’t need to say anything, his face comes towards the joint between your neck and your shoulder, using his nose to brush your hair away, exposing the skin he craves to mark.

“Mariposa.” He whispers, hiding his expression in your soft skin. “I can explain her, I can explain who she is, I didn’t-“

This time, it’s you who rolls around in Carlos’ touch, your arms entwining around his neck, pulling his lips to touch yours. The Spaniard does not need convincing, his grip on your waist immediately tightening, pushing your bodies closer together, if that was even humanly possible. This time, when his lips begin to trail down your neck, there’s no hesitation left in your mind, letting the man dance across your skin, leaving small bites, trails of his tongue against you.

You realize it’s you, making a small whine as he pulls away from your body, catching his breath whilst his tanned arms reach to the bottom of his shirt, exposing his chest once more. This time, your fingers fumble to find the hem of your hoodie, pulling the clothing atop of your head, exposing the laciest bra Carlos had ever seen. There’s a grunt from the back of his mouth as he darts forward, one rough palm scooping your breast from the lingerie, his mouth immediately finding your nipple, tongue tracing across the sensitive skin whilst his stubble rubs against your exposed flesh.

He doesn’t let up, not even when your legs go weak. His mouth remains firmly attached, using his arms to instead scoop you into his grasp, your whining sheer pornography to his ears whilst he carries you into his bedroom.

He will simply ruin you for every other person, and god forbid if he lost you now.

You realize hours later, somewhere between your post-orgasm haze and the combined warmth of Carlos’ hoodie and his firm arms that best friends did not have intense, body-numbing sex in the middle of the night, specifically when one of them was married, the other one a close friend of her husband. Yet, it somehow feels normal, as if this had been the longest impending explosion. Of course, you had explained to the man the reasoning for calling him out so late, for him to simply hush you, promising you would have never been a burden to him. The further questions of what is to come next are pushed to the back of your mind.

Your sleeping state misses two key moments. The first? The slight camera shutter from a phone as Carlos places his device back on the nightstand, snuggling down into the blankets, his dream to hold you whilst he slept finally arising.

The second? Your phone finally buzzed with a response from your husband, unable to sleep without knowing you were in the large house alongside him.

02:51: Charles Leclerc

I’m in love with you.

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