#this is the “i want to be in your life” “why don't we act more like a family” guy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cosycafune · 1 day

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MAKE UP SEX ; EREN JAEGER.

13k words. a summary of this chapter: to pull from a familiar source is to shatter so many hearts. to discover an alternative is to pierce your soul in so many places, despite peace remaining all you yearn to equip. if you were loved enough, this intrusion wouldn't linger — that’s why you ran away with eren. ran away with him, even if it is betrayal.

a synopsis of acts: time skip, virginity loss, child au, alternative ending, angst, arguing, crying, running away, adjusting, ptsd and letting go. smut summary: unprotected sex, strip tease size difference, slight corruption kink, missionary, oral (f), reassurance, cumming, recklessness, crying, orgasms, first times, nervousness, cock warming, breeding kin(g)(k), breastmilk play, aftercare + potential more. read with caution + ignore errors. just an unpublished part of my book.

Hurriedly fuelling the unrest within your demeanour, whilst you run across the resort, concealing the tears within your heart, you discover the entirety of nothing.

The beach remains heavily deserted, with nothing to be picked up on, no matter how much your eyes shift. A tender sensation overtakes the entirety of you, embedding nervousness, doubt, and a horrid sensation within your heart.

Why are you running with such motivation?

Worry piercing your heart, you continue to sprint, your eyes clouded with tears whilst you enter a secluded area.

Upon entering the secluded area, you fail to intake the faulty trail, desperate to discover the entirety of Eren. For someone who placed so much distance between you, within this ample vacation, he sure did love vacant areas. You sure did worry for the man, yearning for the best for him.

If only he confessed, a few years ago.

Would life have been easier and more loving? He would have never slaughtered your heart as Armin did, placing you before any expectations anyone holds for him.

"Eren, this isn't funny now," Halting, intaking the environment, inching further within a flower-populated field, you clear the tears within your eyes.

"You said, we were going to run if everything went wrong," Sniffling frantically, unable to conceal your cries, you continue, "How did our lives get so fucked up when it only once was us?" You murmur to yourself, picking up on a silhouette that resembles Eren. A silhouette that remains standing, intaking the atmosphere.

Of course.

"Y/n, I know you're there," Inching closer to the entirety of his being, unable to conceal your spreading tears, you crumble upon the ground — your heart growing content that he is safe.

If he slaughtered himself, you would never forgive yourself.

"E-Eren," Observing the sight of him settling in front of you, concealing the puffiness of his eyes, he directs himself into planting in front of you. He maintains such a safe distance.

"Celine," A softness tints your tone, "She told me how the two of you broke up, along with just everything else." Sniffling, you break into a chuckle — grateful his presence remains.

"Yeah," He stills within his position, "I couldn't fake the fact that I just don't love her," Eren frowns, guilt completely enveloping his tender self. A tender self that completely crumbles towards the entirety of your rattled self.

"I'm glad you told her, instead of leading her on," You still with carefulness.

"And, why have you been excessively crying?" His viridian eyes can intake the entirety of your guilty self, unable to diminish the tenderness you hold.

"Just the usual," Eren's ineligibility stuns you, particularly with the fact that he holds subtle anger towards the fact that Armin continuously makes you cry.

Hell, he knew you were so afraid of Armin leaving, discovering someone else and leaving you within the pattern of two am. To leave you with Elara, his whims invested in the entirety of someone else.

"You deserve to not cry every day, to be loved in a way that only makes you happy," Eren's eyes twinkle with ethicality, "I truly just want you to be loved in a way that leaves you glowing," Eren adds on, his eyes adorned with the beauty of frustrated tears.

"You're a mother, and I've seen how so many things have affected the two of you," He halts, "Please, just never settle for a situation as broken as that," Eren glimpses at you with a beam, "To cry so disgustingly over a man who isn't willing to give you a lot of his time." A sigh slips from his parted lips.

"If you didn't have Elara, would you still be with him?" His words cause your eyes to widen with untimely shock, reevaluating so many unturned branches of life. You thought you were deserving of such suffering, based on the generational aspect of your family.

"Eren..." His words tinker with your resolve, selfishly bringing you to ponder on a life with him. A life where he remains meeting you within a flower shop, despite a thunderous storm, aiding you with the entirety of it all.

An impossible love story.

"I don't want to intrude, but knowing you, and the look on your face, you wouldn't stand for all he's put you through," Eren sighs with untimely sorrow, "I can sense the anger you try so hard to suppress, due to how he has treated you." His words of truth spark an unknowingness within you, controlling the air loosely bound to your lungs.

"I'm a mother, Eren," A sorrowful glance is gifted to him, "In this world, only my daughter matters." Your words are the only words you can offer him, despite being so heavily in love with Armin.

"I'm glad," Eren glances at you with softness, "But why did you try to find me?" He diverts his eyes away from your own, his movements so collected and so painfully calm.

"Because I care about you," Sniffling at your words, you couldn't help but place a hand on his shoulder — gifting him a gentle smile.

"I'm grateful that you do," Conflicted, Eren conceals his budding tears, unwilling to glimpse at the entirety of you. To glimpse at someone who happened to lighten yet dim his conclusive world.

"I'm going to be moving, Y/n," Your eyes grow wide with fear, "I refuse to jeopardise my mental health further, on something I can't control and don't want to fuck up." His words reek of truth, readying himself to spew tears he doesn't yearn to spew.

"If you want to come, meet me at two am," A part of you brings yourself to gasp, "As a send-off...or whatever you want to interpret it as." Eren's brows crease whilst your heart grows rapidly towards his words, your world threatening to grow out of such a collapsed state.

But you deserved to be loved so dearly.

"I-I have to think about leaving my life," A trickle of panic engulfs you, "I still love Armin, Elara and I don't know if I can do anything to break up my little family." He gifts you a tender grin, his heart swarmed with contentment — a part of him discovering an undeserving peace.

"What's your only wish?" Intaking the entirety of the flower-coated environment, you gift yourself a blooming flower — turning your body away from his own.

"That Armin was never associated with Annie," Still growing sombre at the thought, you bring the ivory flower to your face — mimicking the flowers he brought you before.

"What's your wish, Eren?" Unwilling to meet his gaze, you stir within the tragedy, your tone stiff with ungifted words. Words that completely conclude what could have occurred between the two of you.

"To be able to live happily," He informs you, walking further within the fields with you, his tears so effortlessly streaming down his face. Streaming down whilst the entirety of dawn is thrown upon the both of you.

"You say all this, but if you unrealistically had the chance to run away with me, during all my bad moments, what moment would you have chosen?" To somewhat fuel his unethical moral, you surface a moment where he feels as if he's needed the most — despite being able to manage so effortlessly on his own.

"Your baby shower," Eren's eyes display a layer of guilt, "I had never seen you so hurt and embarrassed in your life, crying and hyperventilating, all your fears in just one room." He adds on, smearing away his tears whilst you could only ready pathetic tears — your heart unwilling to still the steady thudding.

"No one else thought you were sad, except me," Softly, he continues a melodious row of words, "I've just wanted to stop every single tear you've ever spilt, to give you a life that has no heartbreak or sadness." Eren's fingers dance along the gentle grass, completely tinting you with a delicate smile.

Old times engulfed the both of you.

"Even with me pregnant?" Sighing at your words, he only raises a smile — his heart growing content towards your abrupt words.

"Yes. I'd never abandon someone so special to you," His fingers collect a beautiful amount of flowers, "You know me well enough." His finishing words are what set tears in your eyes, readying you to crumble upon the grass — to kiss away your fleeing sanity.

But Armin's your world.

"Do you remember my hospital visit?" Your lips part with guilt, "Before I was pregnant, deathly skinny and crying?" His eyes flutter at your words, the memory repressing him into such a sullen mental state.

"Yeah," He grows slightly distant, "When Armin wasn't picking up his phone, so I came straight to the hospital?" He grimaces at the thought, unsettled by how badly Armin had treated you.

—

Over a year ago, you remained in such a frail condition, desperate for the entirety of Armin to remain.

Set in a hospital bed, tears in your eyes, you are engulfed with vacancy. Your heart lies empty whilst your frail body is unable to shift, succumbing to the severity of your malnourishment. Something that caused you to freakishly collapse at work, your movements limited and unusually scarce.

Clinging to the sheets within the room, growing impatient towards the lack of Eren and Armin, you can't help but tiredly weep. Tiredly weep whilst you grow aware of how much weight you had shredded, based on worrying over the entirety of Annie and Armin. And within the moment, you couldn't help but spite the entirety of Armin — spite him for planting you in such an unethical predicament.

Growing aware of the distasteful silence, you could only frown at how alone you always remain — even within the most severe moments of your life. The sensation causes you to lightly break into an array of cries, yearning to crumble the entirety of the hospital bedding. Your heart is unable to handle the fact that your lover remains far from the hospital, unaware of the voice note that you sent him. A voice note that you send, one so welcoming to the idea of death.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Y/n, I got here as fast as I can!" Eren blurts out, rushing to your side, his eyes stained effortlessly with tears. He gifts you a gentle bellflower, an ample bag settled so effortlessly beside.

"E-Eren, I'm sorry for never being in a good enough condition to meet you," You still with guilt, "I'm never happy around you, and I'm sorry." He could only settle a chair beside you, his hand grasping upon your own, comforting a sobbing you.

"Come here, Eren," Despite your frail condition, you bring your arms around his neck, drawing him within your arms.

He could only falter at the contact, his lips quivering whilst he grows unable to fathom who crumbled the entirety of your life.

You used to be so happy, so carefree. Now, you were a lonesome soul, the concept of sadness incomprehensible.

"The next time you see me, I won't be like this," Grasping onto him further, his head settled against your concealed breasts, you could both only free such heinous cries. Cries that enhance the freedom you could only seek.

"I only want you to be there when we have happy moments," Gifting him a gentle smile, his head beneath your jaw, you run your fingers through his delicate hair — drawing in the tender scent.

"I don't want to subject you to the hardship you felt, when your whole family died," Softening at your words, Eren could only fall to your touch — his heart so gentle and content towards the entirety of it all.

"I just want you to be safe," Eren stills, "Seeing you wither is killing me. It hurts seeing you grow weak, so depressed and trying to submerge yourself with work." His fingers grow ivory with irritation, his demeanour only being calmed whilst you played with his hair.

"I don't want to lie to you, but I don't even think I'm safe with myself," Eren groans at your words, "A-And, lying to you will only make me feel worse." He listens to you huff, only for you to grow aware that he's stilled by the nature of fatigue.

"Who's he?" His tone alters with drowsiness, "I want to know who's making you suffer like this." Eren's whiny words of concern elicit a chuckle from you, particularly with the way he funnily sniffled — heightening your crumpled morale.

"Right now, it's just you and me," Unable to pick up on Eren's tone, you recognise that he had fallen asleep.

"We're both safe here," Sighing with contentment, you continue to beautifully coddle the entirety of him, feeling so safe with him remaining.

Eren had always been there. Even as a child, with you attaining cuts as a child, he would always blissfully patch them up.

Whenever someone would notice the severity of your home situation, plastering you upon the spot, he would only rush you to his home — sheltering you from the dreadful home life you hold. A home life that consisted of screaming, cast-aside objects, tears, broken furniture, and curling upon the ground.

And as a teen, you could only linger in his room, sharing sleepovers with him, unwilling to tear away from his frame.

But when his parents passed away, when he had only turned seventeen, you couldn't help but stay around his home, unwilling to pull from the entirety of his frame.

As his wails grew further contorted, you could only hold him in your arms — placing the covers upon the both of you. Placing the covers whilst you hold him contently. It's a memory you forever cherish.

—

A few years before the tragic hospital memory, you are settled upon Eren's desk chair — your arms folded whilst he grows distant from you. Grows distant whilst he attempts to intake the mere fact that his heart grows completely sombre towards the presence of his parents fading.

His neck-length hair is rather dishevelled, his viridian eyes low and completely overtaken with sullenness. His fingers carelessly weave with each other, his lips trembling as he intakes the photo of him with the entirety of his family.

Spinning within the chair, you grow aware of his lack of attentiveness — his eyes displaying not an ounce of emotion.

Softly, you can't help but bring yourself to inch closer to him — planting your comforting body in front of him.

You carefully glance down at him, capturing the entirety of his body within your arms. He could only hold you, his hands stretching across your back, his movements limited but heavily aware of your presence.

"I'm here, Eren," You glimpse at the doughnuts you had bought for him, "I'll never leave you to mourn so openly alone." He doesn't spew a single word, only bringing his cries to engulf your shirt. Well, a shirt that is his own, that remains offered to you by him.

"I just want to see them again," His words only cause you to inch closer and closer, pushing him upon the bed with you — swarming him within your arms.

This position is one you always held his troubled self within, coddling him until the morning is to rise. Until all the white flowers are to bloom. Until he rejoices within your arms, failing to depart from such safeness.

"They love you so damn much," You run your fingers through his dishevelled hair, "You're their pride and joy, along with Zeke." He calms at your mention of Zeke, clinging to you further. Clinging before you plant the bed sheets upon the both of you, gifting him a gentle kiss on the top of his head.

"I'll make sure that you are never able to feel a pain like this," Eren stills, "I love you too much to allow you to get hurt," His words plant a warmth within you, allowing you to register the feelings that you hold towards him.

"I also love you so much," You gift him a playful head kiss, "We'll forever be together." He chuckles at your beautiful words, playfully rolling with you — his figure so gentle and warming.

"I'm not leaving you with your thoughts, so I'm holding you until you fall asleep," Eren grins, happily falling into your touch, "If you feel unsafe physically or mentally, wake me up." You finish off, his movements growing so beautiful and content.

—

Being back within the face of reality, you remain plastered within the flowers, lying down with Eren. Your heart could only grow heavy with sullenness, unable to cope with the thought of him occupying a different destination — his presence no longer remaining for you to comfort.

He had only been able to attain fulfilled happiness through your assurance, in a way that allowed him to register that he'd forever have someone in his corner.

And if he didn't?

"I wouldn't wish that upon my worst enemy," Eren chuckles at your words, "To be abandoned by the one you love is not for the weak." You resist the urge to coddle him, to hold him for old-time sakes, to conceal the sullenness that completely corrodes your demeanour.

"I've seen that through you, and you still haven't even fully recovered through what he's put you through," Eren could only spew a truth you didn't yearn to hear, "He needs to learn to show you he values you, instead of making you cry to realise." His words cause you to curl into yourself, suppressing the fact that you had spent half of your time crying over Armin's actions.

"One day, the world will heal," You sniffle, "He's a broken man, but he still loves me so dearly." Eren shifts at your words, his heart growing content towards the admiration you express towards him.

"How long is it before he creates an extremely broken woman?" Eren admits an unrevealed truth, observing you shift with guilt at his words — realising how lowly you used to value yourself.

"I'm far past the mentally sane point, but I'm getting there," You admit to him.

Your heart grows gleeful towards his words, yet unable to shed the laughter you conceal.

Like old-time friends.

"But if we do run away, we'll leave almost everything behind," Swaying with the movement of the flowers, your eyes widen with tears — your fingers reaching to grasp onto his slightly distant self.

"Every death? Every relative? Everything we know?" Unable to dissipate your sullenness, yet untimely freedom, you direct your eyes towards such an intimate sight of the blissful flowers. Flowers that swayed at their own pace, nothing dictating their unpredictable fates.

"Everything," He murmurs, "Regardless, I'm leaving my old life behind." Eren's tone trembles with engulfing fear, towards his words, incapable of imagining a future deprived of you.

There isn't one.

"I can't live a life without you," Deprived of jolliness, he completely cascades his tears — his tone pliable, yet firm with unaltered disaster. Unapologetic he is, spewing a known truth.

"I can't live my life without you," Bringing your hand to wipe a single tear of his, your heart grows sombre towards his words. Words that hold a much deeper meaning than deciphered.

"I don't even want to cry, to ruin anything for you, but if you are willing to, meet me here at two am with Elara," He stills, "A time where you aren't alone." He finishes off, his movements swaying with the ethereal grass.

"Eren..." Bringing yourself to arise from the grass, you glimpse down at his laying self, "Thank you, I love you." You bring yourself to add on, permitting him to accustom to the shaping of the ground — yearning to be left solitary.

"I love you, too," Eren brings himself to say, observing the sight of a cloudy horizon in front of him — relishing the entirety of this authentic moment.

—

Journeying home, planted in front of the door, you carefully bring yourself to open it — your heart set upon your fated decision. Not a single ounce of you grows revealing towards your plans, inching into your home — being greeted with the mere sight of an attentive Armin.

His heart grows gentle towards the sight of you, his eyes flitting towards the beauty of your outfit.

A softness falsely coats your eyes, as you grow aware of all you are set to do.

"Armin, I love you," Your words collide with his heart, blissfully bringing him to softly bind his arms around the entirety of you. In a manner that allows you to forever memorise the sensation of his arms, free from the feeling of a completely corroded home.

A home that dwindles within the memories of the past.

"I love you, too, my love," Armin obliviously brings himself to say, so effortlessly feeding into the slight doubts you hold. Doubts that spring your heart to life, one where you are finally loved in a manner that puts you entirely first.

In a way where your lifestyle is secured by the likes of Eren and his connections, along with the safeness he guarantees, the length of the time you've known him, and how abiding your daughter is towards him.

Not a single cry, scream or piece of angst had ever been applied to the entirety of Eren, welcoming a cast-aside love. A casted aside love because of how desperate you grew to invest your time, your presence and safety into a situation that only stirs sadness within you, ptsd, despite the happy moments.

Your heart still aches towards the empty days he welcomed, the empty promises, the lack of care, the solitary hospital visits, and the moments where you doubted if he was ever going to love you.

Even on a few days, he grows guilt towards all he's ever done to you — his hold on you extra firm. Almost as if he's aware of the fact that someone is always forever there to hold you better, to love you better, to cuddle you better, to gift you a clean, sadness-free love. Someone like Eren.

Someone he has always been threatened by. Someone he knows is likely to completely corrode away the toxic bond he has formulated between you and himself.

A bond that lies upon lies and false promises, finally displayed love, so much uncertainty, lack of trust, and frequent panic attacks. Frequent panic attacks of you being displayed within the open. Within the open towards the whole world, something that was never once an option.

As you had never truly been prioritised.

"How did it go?" Armin questions, his heart holding a softness towards a dormant calm within you.

A dormant calm that fails to reveal its complexity, halting within a moment that's set to alter the entirety of four different lives.

"He didn't kill himself," A phrase he couldn't help but suppress slips from your lips, particularly with the way you are unable to lie around him. Unable to lie in a way that's able to deceive him, so you splatter the truth.

Yet, the cleanup around it is timely.

"I'm glad he didn't," Armin stills his tone, "I wouldn't want you losing someone so close to you, even if he does like you." His last words cause you to narrow your eyes. Knowing, just knowing, in a few hours, the entirety of this is likely to fade.

To fade all the turmoil that remains. To plant a new seed of peace.

"Don't start another argument," Your lips furrow with a sense of light disdain, "Especially with Elara here," A softness overtakes your demeanour, "When will you ever stop getting jealous, and realise you've always subjected me to way worse?" Armin's eyes widen to a degree you are unable to fathom, particularly as this is all that taints your crazed mind.

He broke you to a point that you grew to appreciate the emotions of a man who has always forever cared for you. Perhaps that's why Elara has grown so fond towards him? So fond because he would always comfort your sombreness, aiding your exhausting pregnancy. A pregnancy that contained so much heartbreak, you grew shocked towards the fact that Elara even survived.

"I'm sorry," His words welcome a frustration within you, allowing you to finally welcome your suppressed thoughts.

Why did you wait so long for someone who took two years to genuinely display you?

"He was the only one that truly took care of me, especially when you abandoned me," Your eyes inherit an ethical disdain, "He was never mean, cared more than you could bring yourself to, and always took me to the hospital, especially when I was struggling with eating, sleeping, doing nothing but working." Armin inherits guilt.

"I understand how you feel, I do, but I'm working on trying to not hurt you and his feelings, even if he does like me," Carefully walking towards the living room, you glimpse at a blanket upon the ground, "But one of you is only going to get hurt, I said what I said." Armin grows light towards your words, knowing that Eren's likely to grow hurt.

"Eren's going to get hurt," Armin ages into an uncomfortable state, "He's too kind to get hurt." His words completely collide with the whole nature of you, dismissing the entirety of your character.

"And I, me, was too nice to be treated like a side chick, hurt so badly mentally, that it fucked me up physically," His lips tremble with fear, "Don't paint me out as a bad person, knowing that you only view yourself as a saint," You inch closer to the kitchen, "Doing everything for the greater good. Because emotions are only temporary." Anger pitches into your demeanour.

You are trying to get yourself to hate him.

"You're such a fucking hero!" A psychotic chuckle slips from your lips, "Thinking about another man's emotions, knowing you abandoned mine." He grows wordless, his eyes completely analysing the tears you begin to spew.

"I just want peace," A nervousness overtakes you, "I'm going to sleep," You glimpse at him, intaking his characteristics, "You're better off helping my mum put together Elara's crib. I want space." He could only sullenly nod at your words, his eyes holding tears.

Tears you wish you could cave into. Yet, you knew this cycle would only bloom once more, inviting heartbreak, sombreness, solitary, and suicide to prosper. Just as your mother said.

"I'll see you and Elara tomorrow morning," Armin brings himself to bundle his fists, aware of how he messed up, "I love the two of you so fucking much," His eyes gleam with an expressive sadness, "I never want the two of you to not know that." He kneads his discomfort, attempting to plaster strength.

"I love you, too," Your eyes fail to greet his own, "But I just need space." Finishing off your words, you inch closer to your room with Elara within.

—

At the unsound hour of one a.m., you grow heavily cautious — cleverly packing a bag of all of Elara and your things. Though the clothes are a slither of yours, you only needed to prioritise the entirety of your daughter — especially with her asleep against your baby carrier.

But to aid your plan, you leave your phone behind — readying to conceal such an angst-filled lifestyle.

Eren always makes you feel safe.

"Ela-la, mummy loves you so much," Speaking to her slumbering self, you plaster your bags within your hands — grateful for the strength you wield.

To leave this fucked up place behind.

Ensuring she remains asleep, you softly plant a kiss upon her gentle head — carefully inching towards the front door. Aware of the fact that Armin lingers ten minutes away, with the presence of your mother, you grow comfortable with this factor. Comfortable as it ensures that not a single person can exhibit the fact that you are bound to flee from your present love.

Softly opening the front door, after carefully planting a note upon the blanket he leaves, you delicately bring yourself to remain outside — observing the sight of Eren's parked car.

His expression remains timeless towards the sight of you, a softness tinting his beautiful features. The sight of him elicits your past emotions, motioning for your heart to freely be able to swirl — at the mere sight of his welcoming self.

"Be careful," His mouthed words cause you to delicately carry you and Elara down the steps, relishing him positioning himself to help bring the both of you down — instinctively taking hold of your packed bags.

"Eren, Armin's coming soon, so we need to leave," A genuine smile, filled with hope and admiration, tints your lips, "Take us somewhere so beautiful, but very safe for me and my little girl." With Eren carefully opening the door, he brings himself to aid you with Elara — a car seat already placed within.

This very thing awoke her.

"Ela-la, mummy's got you," At your words, Elara softly babbles — her heart growing content towards the mere sight of Eren lingering.

Yet, she grows rather sullen towards the vacant presence of Armin. A presence she grows to instinctively miss.

"Daddy's planning to come visit you soon," Your fibs cause Elara to grow calm, settling into a fit of sleep.

A fit of sleep that welcomes you the opportunity to settle beside her, buckling the both of you up. Buckling you both up whilst a set of peace completely overtakes you, despite the anxiety of growing heavily caught by the entirety of Armin.

At least you left a note. A note that answers questions he already holds the answer to.

"Eren, start driving," Glee frames your healing bones, "Let's live a peaceful life in England, away from where we once were." Completely enthralled by your words, he gifts you a gleeful smile — his soft lips settled within the widest, boyish grin to exist.

"I thought you'd never ask," Eren begins to drive away from the place that once carried a large part of you, one that no longer frames a happiness you wish to attain. An impossible happiness with the entirety of Armin.

"When we get to the home I own, far from everyone else, I'll make sure that Elara will have a comfortable room to sleep in." Eren's words warm your gentle heart, gifting you the comfort of falling asleep beside your daughter.

Finally breaking a generational curse.

"I finally feel...mentally free," Your heart thuds with an discovered joy, "I've only ever felt mentally safe with you, there has never been the thought of anger," A smile caresses your carefree being, "We've always understood each other," You halt, attending to Elara, "I'm sorry that it took so long for the both of us to realise that we're meant for each other." You finish off, your heart tender and content.

"It took so long, but I'm glad we're finally together," Eren's eyes tint with a happiness he had never witnessed beforehand, "I'm never going to let anything harm you and Elara." His words further calm your mind, particularly whilst he further drives off — leaving behind a life the both of you once knew.

The two of you always knew that you were forever meant to be, even through conflicts.

—

A tender week and a half had skimmed by, and both you and Elara accustomed yourselves within Eren's large home. Never once had you adjusted to such safeness, not a single undisclosed issue rising.

The both of you grew unwilling towards rushing any aspect of the both of you, solely accustoming to the art of it all.

Whilst you grew sullen in your sleep, fearful towards Armin within your dreams, stealing Elara away from you, you fell into a fit of crying. A fit at two am.

But at each tender cry, whilst Eren aided you with Elara, he calmed the nerves you carried — his tender hugs keeping you going.

And even as the both of you left the airport, travelling on a private jet, he allowed himself to wholly take care of a wailing Elara. An Elara who cried towards the thought of her absent father, only to softly calm at a lullaby that Eren proclaimed towards her.

Fatherly things came to him with ease.

Currently, you remain upon your new-found couch, glimpsing at the sight of Eren — observing the entirety of him. Observing him holding Elara, carefully attending to her sleeping self.

It seems she recognises his good nature, so beautifully attending to the entirety of him — treating him almost as if he is Armin. Armin in a way that permits her to register that Armin's no longer set to be present in her life.

"You're a natural, Eren," Intaking the softness of your tone, along with the carefreeness of your demeanour, he offers you a gentle smile.

A gentle smile that amounts to the concept of kisses. The two of you hadn't kissed yet, gotten intimate, or even shared the same bed — he allowed things to specifically flow.

"I know we've run away and everything, but what do you expect from our future?" Eren's cheeks tint towards his words, almost as if he can't help but ultimately register that you finally flourish towards his path of love.

A path that only spews righteousness, familiarity and safeness.

Childhood friends to lovers.

"Just the three of us and peace," Your eyes grow towards him and a content Elara, "I don't want to cry anymore, nor feel like I'm not enough, even if I'm treated almost as if I am." Eren's ears grow attentive towards your words, feeding into his urge to freely engulf you within a gentle cuddle.

"I just want to cuddle you, just like the old times," Softly, Eren brings himself to carefully guide Elara towards you — settling upon the couch.

Elara could only meet his delicate eyes, carefully grasping onto his hair — babbling with friendliness.

"Got room for one more?" Eren grows gleeful at your words, staining Elara's eyes upon his own — treating her solely like his own.

She's now his daughter, indefinitely.

"Always got room for this sweetheart," His words cause Elara to blissfully babble within his hold, clinging onto him with firmness.

"We've got to build the crib," With a frown coating your lips, his expression inhabits sullenness towards the stress you hold.

"I've already built it, and got another one in your room," Your eyes greet his own, with mellow glee, "I didn't want you to be stressed or sad about it, so I did it whilst you and Elara slept." His words mean more than you can comprehend, prompting you to apply a smile upon his lips — planting an earnest kiss upon his supple cheek.

"Thank you, Eren," Being able to invest in the beauty of his presence solely comforted your being, enabling the idea of you exclusively being optimistic — not an unmarried ounce of turmoil wavering.

"Don't thank me for the bare minimum," His lips perk up with smite. His viridian eyes so lovingly drawn to your own, his lips no more than a tender inch away from your own.

"Shut up," Growing flustered beneath his gaze, you bring yourself to settle your head upon his chest — only for him to confidently pull back, tilting your chin.

"You look very beautiful, sunshine," His words welcome tears within your eyes, particularly with the mere fact that you were never something so welcomed in the morning. Nor had anyone ever once seen you worthy of being accompanied outside.

"Sunshine?" Coddling Elara further, you drift your lips closer to Eren's — the softness of them far from hesitant.

Carefully, you draw your lips closer, nervously grazing his top lip. Nervously grazing his lip before he tilted his head further, allowing his broad nose to brush up on your supple cheek.

"Yes," His lips so effortlessly take comfort upon your own, staining a familiar sensation upon your lips. A familiar sensation that solely welcomes the art of solace and reviving a dormant love.

The softness of his plush lips completely captures your own, drawing your eyes to remain so beautifully sealed — relishing the sparks that blossom from the kisses Eren plants upon your gentle lips. Kisses that you conceal your moans towards, your tears swirling, so in place with the moment.

So in place whilst the tender sun completely adorns many aspects of the both of you, tinting the moment with something so historically beautiful and gifting.

"Our second kiss," You structure your being around his starry eyes, incompetent of comprising your flustered beam, "That was magical." The words you emit endow him with the chance to raise another kiss from you, apprehending the totality of you — storing you with timely butterflies.

"You're so special," Eren draws his lips open, his finger staining his kissed-stained lips, "I'm devoted to you." His words capture your heart, applying the idea of you riddling your fingers upon his broad chest — aiding your slumbering daughter.

"Eren?" His fingers collide with your own, adjusting to the entirety of your manicured fingers.

"Yeah?" The lightness of his tone allows you to effortlessly shy away from his being, your heart swelling so feverishly towards his advances. Towards the nervous crimson hue that he carries upon his potent cheeks. Almost as if he's aware of what you are bound to say.

"Have you ever lost it to someone?" Nervously, his cheeks are effortlessly thundered upon by a crimson hue — he tilts his innocent gaze away.

Tilts his innocent gaze whilst you monitor the entirety of his movements, noticing that he has never been intimate with someone.

"No," Eren's lips thin with slight embarrassment, "I've never done it before." His words tint you with a beautiful amount of hope, one that warms your adjusting heart.

"When it's nighttime, and Elara's in her room, I'll come to yours," His eyes are glossed with a sense of completion, "I...I love you, Eren," He could tell your words hold meaning, especially with the way you cling to Elara — coddling her sleeping self.

She settled so much better, within this fulfilling environment.

—

Enveloped by a beautiful ivory lingerie set, your demeanour swarming with nervousness, you settle outside of Eren's room — your heart thudding recklessly towards the idea you've painted within your careless mind.

Your eyes sheepishly waver. Your fingers press against your untamed heart, plastering doubt within you — posing your body outside of his door.

Unable to proceed past the metaphorical boundaries, in complete nervousness, your breathing grows scarcely clustered outside of his door. Clustered in a manner as being so freely cherished, your heart grows content towards the thought of facing intimacy with Eren.

Your glee is one you are unable to contain. Contain to express your physique towards him, for the first time.

"I-I..." Failing to muster any coherent words, to slip towards the commotion on the other side, your fingers restlessly tint the ample French door.

"Y/n?" Listening to the spirit of his tone, your heart falls into an uproar, encouraging you to bring a brittle hand to your lips — softly growing discouraged.

"E-Eren?" Barely able to muster a coherent whisper, you grow property to the ground — completely yearning for him to encourage the first move.

"You can—" Eren softly parts his door, his eyes widening at the mere sight of you — along with your angelic lingerie completely compelling with the lunar moon.

The moonlight illuminates the ivory of your lingerie.

It causes his eyes to falter, to draw in every ounce of you. His lips so recklessly quiver. His toned cheeks are completely drowned by a longing crimson. His flitting eyes so dearly waver so effortlessly towards the beauty of your physique.

"Y-Y/n?" With Eren's fingers upon the door frame, his clothes clinging loosely upon him, he's unable to dismiss the thudding of his heart — the beauty of you irreplaceable.

"It's fine if—" Unrest overtaking you, your words grow shunned by his actions, welcoming him to carefully grasp hold of you.

Riddled with all your words, he grabs hold of your plush arms, planting your barely clothed self around his broad waist — his erection so prominent and rather fulfilling.

You know the length of him would be something that completely overrides Armin.

"You're so beautiful," With Eren's words aligning with him concealing his bedroom door, the moonlight tinting his you-smitten features, he guides the two of you upon an ample bed.

His careful hold upon you is featherlight, feverous and scandalous.

"Your face, it's something so beautiful," Enveloped by the entirety of enthralment, rather nervous towards the encounter and his words, you feel his bulgy erection nudge against your inner thighs — eliciting a small moan of nervousness.

"Let's take care of each other," Eren softly plants you upon the gentle bed, observing you sink so effortlessly within the bed, your body sprawled in front of the entirety of him.

You observe his eyes linger upon your features, his cheek tint failing to slip away from your eyes — his body towering over your lone state.

"Always," Gasping at the on-edge tension, you slightly puff your cheeks, so, so, so, exuberant at such an intimate moment.

An intimate moment that frames the blossoming love you've always held for Eren, completely burying it beneath a love you once held for Armin.

"I'm going to take off my shirt," At his words, a careless thud enters between your thighs — welcoming you the chance to bundle them, slightly throwing your head back at the gruffness of his enthralled tone.

"I-I want to see all of you," Biting back your tongue, growing so heavily flustered, you intake his fingers — pinching the edges of his grey shirt, slowly inching upwards.

"I'm fine with giving you all of me," Unable to conceal your grin, you intake his prominent v-line — only to intake the firmness of his revealing abs.

Innately, your eyes dart to meet the sight of his daring pecs, his sculpted shoulders, along with the beauty of each flex of his muscle.

He grew adamant, his smile rather taunting. Taunting whilst his stomach trail completely captures your eyes, leaving you yearning to wrap your lips around his unknown tip.

"I want all of you!" Slightly rolling your hips, you glimpse at him with a feverous need, unable to handle the mere sight of a shirtless him — his trousers not effortlessly close to being peeled down by the entirety of him.

"I'm forever yours," Eren announces while inching closer to a physically vacant you, observing your covet fingers draw to your pooling cunt.

He glimpses at the faint sight of your cunt, stifling back his struggled breaths — only to glimpse at your breasts. Breasts that hold a plumpness to them, startling his erection further.

"Show me that, Eren," Slipping your fingers towards the midsts of your breasts, he cranes in closer to you, softly sinking you further within the bed.

Ethereally, his dexterous fingers dart towards your supple cheek — his viridian eyes and his kiss-deprived lips so attentive towards the sight of you.

Naturally, he places his mesmerising face closer to your own, feeling your hands cling to the sides of his lithe cheeks.

He grows flushed at the sensation, drawing his tender lips upon your moon-filled ones — enchanting the entirety of his heart.

So delicately, his starry eyes mature further into a meaningful state, the silence enveloping you both — whilst your desperate lips so effortlessly collide.

Completion.

The sensation of his lips encapsulates the love you hold for him, welcoming you into further relishing the sensation of his broad nose upon the side of your cheeks.

His supple lips obey a feverishness, enveloping your heart.

Unable to draw away for breath, you sculpt your legs around his toned waist, moaning at each gentle kiss. Effortlessly filled with chemistry, his trained lips conduct themselves into leaving you gasping. To gasp whilst he slips his lips away from your own, planting his lips beneath your jaw — whilst your head remains tilted upwards.

Your heart grows so reckless at his heated kisses, resting against your Adam's apple. His grunts and groans, towards the kisses, welcome you to wrap your legs firmer around him — sinking into the time-consuming trails he plants.

"Eren!" Incapable of planting his name elsewhere, you feel his lips slip further down your Adam's apple — enhancing the lust that gathers hold of your desperate lips.

It causes your heart to swirl so effortlessly. The wholeness of it is encapsulated by the warmth, the prosperity of the softness of his lips — welcoming warm trails of gentle kisses.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" The carefulness of his tone settles a sense of comfort within your distorting bones, riddling you with a thudding that fails to dissipate.

That falls into the commotion that collides with your soul.

"More than anything," Swirling with integrity, you feel the sensation of his lips, so precisely slipping towards the sight of your breasts.

His eyes lick upon the sight with such grace, before his lips softly brush upon the supple surface above — a tender moan encouraging his lips further.

Falling into the cage of the blissful, melodious sounds of his favourable kisses and your harsh gasps, you feel his lips trickle down to the volume of your breasts. His lips collide with the roundness of them, the soft skin forgivably at his mercy.

Eren noticeably worships the gentle skin, your breasts swell from your noticeable breastfeeding.

Observing the barely prominent lingerie, he carefully conducts you into falling into his grasp — a single hand of his holding a part of your smaller back.

With his motion in place, he enables his ability to designate his other hand upon the bra clips, completely loosening the entirety of them.

The loosening sensation conducts a sense of fear within you, only for it to calm. To calm at each love-encouraged brush of his exemplary touch.

The sheer fabric remains no more than a shy cover of your supple breasts, only for Eren to bring his ample hand upon the fabric — carefully placing it upon the ground.

Inevitably, his pupils mature heavily wide towards the sight, the first piece of exposure thudding against his pained erection — encouraging your heart to thud rapidly.

Your spilt breasts are displayed, in front of his eyes. His lips grow parted with famish, his body so beautifully restraining itself, resisting the urge to use something that would completely crumple the sanity that your beautiful state upholds.

A beautiful state that grows positively unnerved towards the coveted nature he holds towards your breasts.

Naturally, Eren yearns to ravish them with a beautiful might — completely stirring the entirety of your sanity with his beautiful mouth.

"Your breast milk?" Eren questions with intrigue, his plush lips closing in on your breasts. His features so perfectly hover above your taut nipples, welcoming him to finally part his beautiful lips — wrapping his lips around your perfect-looking bud.

"S-Suck it," Whimpering relentlessly at his movements, you draw your hands to the back of his dishevelled hair — relishing the intensity of his gentle sucks.

His wholehearted sucks welcome you into releasing a slight yelp, your fingers harshly wrapping around his hair — particularly whilst he softly engulfs your breast milk.

"S-So much milk," His nature grows enveloped by this study, leading him to narrow his cheeks, swallowing every ounce — encouraged by the sweetness that tints it.

"Eren!" Stifling back your whims of sensitivity, your eyes flutter with a flustered state.

Giddily, your heart so dangerously thuds — glimpsing at his lips so casually upon your breast. Upon your breast whilst his eyes draw closed. Draw closed at the sound of your moans.

"Shit," He murmurs, pulling back with a harsh popping sound. His breathing is effortlessly reckless, his lips tainted with breast milk — the entirety of your breast swirling with the aftermath of his content sucking.

Eren softly licks his lips, running his tongue upon your leaking nipple, shifting his lips down. He feels you suck in your stomach, your laboured breaths completely at his mercy. Not a single ounce of him fails to infiltrate the pathway of your stomach, planting kisses upon such lithe skin.

His lips caress each squirming spot, hovering so close to an ample scar. A scar that completely overruns a portion of your stomach, leaving you rather self-conscious. Self-conscious of the planted acts of affection.

"I love you, sweetheart," His usage of sweetheart causes you to further shift his hair aside, growing nervous towards his lips casting lower and lower. Lower to the point his warm tongue completely occupied your lingerie that leans against the base of your cunt.

His lips brush upon the fabric, his heart so soft and erratic — tugging at the hems of your beautiful underwear.

"I love you, too," Aging into a smitten state, you draw your lips sealed — feeling his fingers entwine with the heart of the damp fabric. His fingers slowly bundle up the fabric, revealing the arousal that clings so mightily upon the lower midst of the fabric.

"I just want to fuck you so good," Eren whines out, observing the sight of your pooling cunt — a prettiness heavily associated with it.

The sight causes him to grow stunned at the exposure, so grateful for a future like this. A future he only ever saw himself so deeply enveloped within.

"I want you to cum inside of me," The words you spew are words that are completely drowned out the moment he completely rolls the entirety of your lingerie, planting it so effortlessly away from your legs.

"I don't mind that," Eren so desperately parts the suppleness of your legs, his fingers slipping toward s your sopping cunt — parting your completely drenched folds.

Effortlessly, Eren's features grow so heavily into a beautiful look of admiration, all before he welcomes himself into pushing his lips against the slight — his tongue settling so effortlessly upon the soppiness of your cunt.

His tender tongue runs along the frilliness of your folds, the flatness of his tongue introducing itself. The sensation causes you to sow your shaky fingers upon his tender tresses of hair, applying your head back at the tension he applies.

Lovingly, his lips unlawfully travel towards your clit, wrapping so innocently around them — eliciting a moan from you. A moan from your choppily breathing self, unable to steady your lips — an unethical orgasm face slipping upon your features.

"Eren!" Grinding your untamed hips upon his pleased features, he succumbs to his heavenly fate, "Just...like that!" Cooing at the softness of his worthy touch, your head so effortlessly tilts back — your frail heart pounding so accordingly.

"Ah! Mhm! Yes!" Carefully needing the severity of his hair, your whimpers completely encourage the movement of Eren's unfaltering tongue.

His tongue stretches across the severity of your parted folds, sucking so eagerly upon them — relishing the recoil. The recoil whilst you squirm in admiration, grasping, wheezing, writhing, your free hand blessing the heart of the thick bedding fabric.

"You taste so good," He murmurs, his vibrations jolting into your sensitive cunt.

They cause you to further place his head against the momentum of your hips, grasping onto his head to control such an intimate narrative.

"'M all yours!" Your eyes fall into a hive of indefinite tears, safeness overtakes you. Safeness whilst his tongue and lips occupy your thudding clit, painting out a beautiful sensation that moons the beauty of his movements.

Just the messy, intimate sounds of his careful slopping, lapping the entirety of your soppy cunt, further fuels the painful clutter within your haphazardous stomach. The way his lips remain concealed against your cunt, his expression jaded. Jaded so heavily whilst slickness overwhelmed the entirety of his lips and a tint of his jaw.

His broad nose is so gleefully buried within your exuberant pussy, his features gliding with the commandment of your clutching fingers — readied towards his beautiful, intimate acts.

His face remains as no more than a pleasure-inducing supplement for you. A beautiful, flustered face that's eyes flutter — so addicted to the soppiness of your perfect, him-crafted cunt. One that his coated lips are unable to pry from, efficiently stirring a beautiful pounding from his eventless cock.

"'Need more," At your words, Eren draws his nimble fingers towards the heart of your cunt — his fingers so beautifully prodding against the vulnerability of it.

This huge step is encouraged by you, specifically with the way you hint towards being so effortlessly met with a beautiful fullness — encouraging your body to give way for the entirety of him.

The entirety of him splitting you open, welcoming the unearthed heart of another.

Clearing the hesitation he holds towards his ample finger size, his fingers pick up on your raging slickness — softly applying pressure upon your entrance.

At the anticipation, you grow heavily delightful — feeling his fingers slower grow present against you. They begin to stretch out your cunt, welcoming a squeamish sensation to penetrate you — only for a gentle pleasure to envelop you. Envelop you whilst his fingers further make their way within you, splitting you open with each gasp.

Clutching further upon the dishevelled sheets, your head rolls back with such insufferable ease — the fullness of his fingers completely capturing the entirety of you. Capturing you in a way that welcomes many clustered moans, specifically with the manner his fingers embedded within you — granting you warmth.

A warmth that leaves your lips parted.

"So warm," Eren lets out, his lips discovering your clit once more, his fingers beginning to gift you teasing thrusts. Teasing thrusts that welcome you to jolt your hips with enthralment, your moans capturing his ears, tearing through the sanity he holds.

At the monitored scenery of a mewling you, your brows creased, your heart overtaken with love, your eyes clouded, and your mind seized of control, you could only free chaotic moans. Moans that completely stain Eren's erection with further pain, incapable of losing himself within you — for the first time.

Well, with anyone.

"'M gonna cum!" Incapable of handling the warmth of his fingers, pounding your squelching cunt, you grow a moaning mess, thrashing so vigorously — only the terms of a release freeing you from this pleasure-worthy role.

A pleasure-worthy role that completely belittles your cunt with beauty.

"Mhm," Eren flutters out, his fingers aligned with the pace of his clit sucking — warming you so effortlessly.

Just the thought of him, his heart so contagious with love towards you, thoroughly reassures you with a beaming comfort.

A comfort that leaves a sensation that is unable to be strayed away from, pounding in the same way as his fulfilling fingers — havocking within the haven of your stomach. Your stomach in a method that leaves you choppily moaning, your limbs so ethical — in response to his natural gloss of touch.

"I...love you," The thunderous moans that you release plague his ears, all whilst his fingers set a delicate pace within you.

A pace that works up the entirety of your heart, your chest rolling vigorously — his thrusting so beautifully in tune with your nature.

"I love you, too," The knowingness of his word return completely fuels the gentleness within your heart, encouraging you to further relish the sensation of his fingers.

The sensation tugs against the knot you hold within your stomach, tearing away at the sanity you hold.

"Eren!" The phenomenon bleeds further within your stomach, ethically whisking the tension elsewhere — the tension of finishing on his warm tongue.

The pressure encourages you to attempt to warn the entirety of him, only for him to grow continually — grasping onto your thrashing hips.

He holds you with an ethical closeness, his fingers completely embedded within the entirety of your lithesome hips.

The skin grows tamed beneath his touch, unable to shy away — completely submissive to the entirety of him.

"'M gonna finish!" Unravelling such a gentle sensation within you, you throw your head back, your tears so beautifully natural — streaming down your face. Streaming down your features with lulling ease.

With an ease that causes your heart to swirl with peace, an ounce of recklessness overtakes you.

"So good!" Freeing the pent-up sensation, you feel the entirety of it settle upon his tongue — so beautifully applied to his warm tongue. His fingers carefully thrust once more, all before he welcomes a moan from your gentle lips.

At your abruptness, you gasp with a beautifulness, one that completely twirls his stomach with glee. Twirls his stomach whilst he pulls his ample fingers out of you, his cum-glossed fingers and lips, so effortlessly combined.

His viridian eyes fail to waver, intaking the effortlessly breathily sight of you — panting so choppily.

Your lips fail to rejoice, hinting towards the tiredness you have accumulated. From your nervousness, from your joy, from the heart of such an elegant experience.

"I'm...sorry," Eren's viridian eyes widen towards your apologetic words, whilst his vast fingers swirl within his mouth — the sensation something he can't help but relish. But relish whilst your heart grows heavily fond towards the entirety of him, your tears of nervousness helping to aid such a large encounter.

"Don't apologise," Eren inches closer to the entirety of you, his body so attentive towards the shape of your emotions — being sure to puzzle himself in a nature that gifts you comfort.

"You've done so well," His body beautifully cages you, his forehead so set upon your own. Innately welcoming the heart of your emotions and his diligent ones.

"What if it's not enough for you?" Your words cause his worrisome expression to further carve into a state of sadness, his cheeks being grasped upon by the entirety of you.

"You've always been more than enough for me," Eren's breathing hitches so freely, his love so unwavering, "Being with you is the best thing that could have ever happened to me," You listen to him speak of you with such pride, "Everything you do is enough for me to smile, to feel warm, to be in love." His hearty words elicit further tears, only for them to be replaced with gentle kisses.

"Thank you, Eren," Planting a gentle kiss upon his lips, you smear your nose upon his own — your forehead so beautifully upon his own.

In a manner that welcomes you both to relish the sound of the swaying trees and the gentleness of the environment, along with him enabling your emotions — in a way that allows you to also validate him.

"And, am I enough for you?" He teases you back, his closeness igniting a soft chuckle from you — welcoming the beauty of the two of you.

The two of you have always been like this, so beautifully close, along with being so in tune with one another.

"You're more than enough for me," Your fingers tint his cheek further, slightly sinking into the supple skin — observing the crimson hue bloom so effortlessly.

Effortlessly, he cranes his head further towards you — his smitten heart completely enveloping your heart.

He is everything.

"Good," Eren's heart grows fathomable happy towards your words, permitting your heart to swirl so freely. To pierce your heart with the beauty of such known words.

"Eren, I want you to..." Growing embarrassed at your words, Eren could only console you with a beautifulness.

Thrilled, his roaring heart develops into an energetic state towards your words —leaving him to smear gentle kisses upon your lips.

He captures every lone thought you hold.

"I want to give you head, though," Your words cause him to merely smile down at you, his nose crinkling with love — painting him out so gently.

"Not until we have sex," His gentle announcement enables the realism of his words to channel the beauty of the situation, allowing the realness of it all to grow so beautifully known.

"Trousers down, Eren," Pulling away from the entirety of you, he brings himself to exhibit a clear sight of him — his fingers tinting the looseness of the hem of his nightwear.

"Anything for you," Intaking the softness of his words, he brings himself to carefully slip his trousers down.

Carelessly, flustered by the attention you gift him, Eren prospers so egotistically.

He remains flaunting the entirety of his taut muscles, his prominent erection, and the rare beauty of his toned legs — subtle bristles of hair tinting the delicate region.

"Eren..." Your lips equip shock.

Hazy, you observe the mere sight of a nervous him — his precum-stained underwear tinting your adrenaline-enhanced being.

Eren's eyes shift away with nervousness, leaving you aflame with such admiration and respect — so delicately encircled by the sight of his beautifully whittled self.

He honed his angelic traits; his movements so mesmerisingly constructed.

"Don't get nervous now, you're almost there," Smiling at the beauty of his crimson cheeks, you draw your cheeks into a puffy state — basking in the beauty of his unnerved self.

"You're making me nervous," Blooming with a heavenly smile, you intake the sight of Eren — tugging at his navy boxers.

Eren lingers, slightly hesitant before he drags the fabric down — entitling you additional access to his tumultuous v-line.

"And you're making me more nervous, especially with how big you're looking," Eren tilts his gaze with trepidation, his stares growing exceptionally soft.

"I'm apologising for my size," Eren's sincere words cause you to smear your thighs together, watchful towards the scenery of his teasing movements. Movements that work up a temperate gutsiness within you.

"I'll handle it," As your words tumble, at mercy within his pounding ears, he allows himself to finally release his grip on his boxers — revealing his ample size.

A size that causes your brows to crease with slight worry, observant of each twitching vein, his neatly trimmed pubs — along with his beautifully tanned tip.

He's big.

"I'll be there, every step of the way," His tone welcomes a reckless emotion within you, particularly whilst he inches closer, his ample size completely the only thing that controls the emotions you hold.

It causes you to seize hold of his bedsheets, your lips growing distraught with excitement.

"Spoil me," Eren takes your words into account, his body looming over the entirety of you. His demeanour welcomes you into carelessly laying down, the entirety of you so breathlessly beautiful — your features encapsulating the entirety of him.

"Are you sure you're ready?" Softly, Eren's words console any nerves you hold — particularly whilst he spreads a searing kiss upon your lips.

His eyes so effortlessly hold your own, despite the both of your nudity so eagerly on display.

A few years ago, this wouldn't have been possible.

"When have I never been ready for you?" Shifting his lips away from your own, he slightly contorts the entirety of his body —bringing himself to part your nervous legs.

Star-filled, he glimpses at the sight of your pooling cunt. Eren's breaths are so beautifully ragged at the sight.

His only goal is to completely unravel you towards the art of pleasure.

"That's for you to decide," Heavenly moonlight adorns streaks of your goddess-enhanced body; you feel him assure you that your body will be heavily taken care of.

A temple that his heart forever hopes to positively polish, to aid you with the budding commotion within the nature of your life.

"I'm all yours, Eren," So delicately emitting your words, you take note of the designation of his hand, so confidently palming his girth dick.

The sight of it causing your cunt to beat so wholeheartedly. It craves the entirety of him, yet he lingers so close yet so effortlessly far away.

"I know you are," Carefully conducting his movements, he wraps your nimble legs around his toned waist — his perturbation so inevitable.

"Take your time," Slightly gasping at the feeling of his broad tip, tinting the pattern of your folds — softly sinking behind the soppiness of your cunt — he intakes your every motion.

"We'll have many more moments like this," Gasping so effortlessly, at the pressure he emits, you so delicately gesture for him to split the entirety of you further open — welcoming a fullness.

Your brows twitching at the beautiful feeling, your lips splaying open with recklessness, your head throwing so cloudily back, you feel the sensation of his largeness.

Eren's largeness completely breaks the sexual barriers you were once unable to penetrate.

The sensation elicits an array of moans, whimpers, and lustful words from the both of you — the warmth and fullness pairing so effortlessly.

As he further penetrates your wailing cunt, you are unable to conceal the thunderous commotion your stomach creates, your breathing choppy at the breathless fullness.

Only half of him lodges your cunt, with breathless moans from him, his panting, his whining and whimpering effortlessly caressing him.

The urge to just fill you with his cum fails to clear from his mind, specifically as this sensation is one that completely conceals any sanity the both of you hold.

"Eren!" Feeling him lower his body, to reign the slot beside your neck, he plants his head within the area — softly bucking his hips further.

Safely, he feels the urge to slightly collapse into the safeness of the feeling — his limps yearning to crumble into the sensation of your exuberant cunt. One that stretches so beautifully around him, thudding towards the entirety of your clenching — the soppiness of your arousal pooling against his thick cock.

"Y/n!" Muffling the entirety of your name, he sports open lips, the softness of them tinting your neck. Tinting your neck whilst he adjusts his cock structure towards whenever you yearn to enlist his pounding within your mind.

"Tell me when you are ready," Gulping at the thickness, the closeness, and the safety of him, you grow warm at the fullness of his pulsating dick — especially it resting so safely within your clutching cunt.

"I'm ready," Eren softly kisses your supple neck; his lips momentarily brush upon the curve of your jaw.

"Eren, don't forget," Emotions envelop the conversation, "This is your first time, so I'm going to also love you all over." With your words known to his you-infested ears, he brings himself to carefully pull the entirety of him out of you — abruptly slotting himself inside of your fluttering cunt.

"Eren!" Incapable of intaking the sensation of his dick, you begin to freely moan. Moan at the feeling of him entrusting a pace upon you, his whimpers swarming your ears.

Your heart grows juicy with such ever-growing love, encouraging your eyes to grow lidded — the warmth within your cunt wounding your sanity so deeply.

"Ah! So deep! Yes! Yes!" Feeling his hips gather an athletic momentum, you release a sharp gasp.

Safely, the feeling of him just growing deeper inside of you, at each love-encrusted thrust, warms your abdomen with a pleasurably sore sensation.

"You're so...fucking warm!" Eren cloudily murmurs within your ear, his lips quivering upon the curve of your neck — his hips bucking into your cunt.

You age into a frenzied state, struggling to straighten out your choppy breaths.

His hips collide so beautifully with your cunt, packing it effortlessly with an added fullness — completely winding you of your breathing.

Naturally, you beautifully squirm against the sensation, your lips sculpted into a permanent 'o'. Pathetically, your clustered sounds remain unable to be formed into a coherent word — along with his own.

His brunette tresses of hair completely bury your features with the sensation of him. Down to his gentle scent, his beautiful notions, and his thick dick, nudged between your moulding hips.

His thrusts completely fill you, at each turn. They leave your brows strained, your neck thrown further back, your eyes completely rolled back, your drool so embarrassingly slipping from your lips.

"'Want you... to use me! Fill me!" Whining at the magical thrusts he stuffs you with, you let out a few half breaths, the overwhelming sensation of his cock unravelling every content comment you make.

Your comments hint at your desperation, unable to handle how he had always been so great at everything he did — his intimate gestures completely enveloping your sanity.

"Get me pregnant!" Eren's breathing falters at your words, his thrusts growing rather harsh — bubbling a drunken feeling within you.

The macaroni-imitating sounds, the squelching of your cunt, and the lewdness of his and your moans — completely grow dismissed by your ears.

The sensation is the only thing your mind can focus on.

"Fuck! Don't...tempt me!" His softened whimpers, his gruff mewls of focus, completely allow his words to flow.

They flow with randomness whilst he swirls your cunt with a puffiness, his pounding creating an insufferable warmth — leaving your head to sway side to side. To sway, incapable of handling the largeness of his dick, his pounding, along with the thickness of him so prominent within your stomach.

"Hgh! Too warm!" You weep out, your body too overly warm, attempting to pry away such an overstimulating sensation.

However, you wrap your legs further around Eren's lower back — so desperate to keep his beautiful pounding afloat.

Not once had he wavered, his dick still so effortlessly fucking you so whorishly — dissipating the sense of sanity you hold.

"You're...doing so well, sweetheart," He gruffly let out, his arms now wrapping around your head, his low eyes focusing on the entirety of your cloudy expression.

He observes the horny smile that captures your lips, your eyes barely meeting his own, fuelling the arousal you felt.

"You're...so...ah!" Moaning at the entirety of his harsh thrusts, completely spreading tingles upon you, you grow starry with pleasure.

Your limbs grow rather erratic with the unregistered recklessness, your moans growing unpredictable, ragged, and increasingly vociferous.

Fittingly, your mind grows belonging to someone else — your awareness of the situation narrowing down to this building-up sensation within you.

One that leaves you letting out cries.

"That's...it!" With reality blurred, you grow heavily focused on the planted feeling.

Every fibre of your words is slurred, your boisterous moans being swallowed by the sensation of Eren's lips. Your eyes roll back with ease, the tingly sensation welcoming the pressure to roughly slip from your cunt.

You cry out at the freeing sensation, your limbs growing numb — a silence washing over the entirety of you.

Lazily, you cling to the entirety of a pounding Eren, his coveted pace increasing the sensitivity within you — attacking your love spot.

A spot that completely stole away at the air in your lungs, particularly whilst you are gaining awareness of what occurred — your panting growing to worry his withering state.

He grows rather tired, but a fitting sensation enveloped the entirety of him.

"An...orgasm," The tiredness you hold is completely sensed by him, welcoming him to wholly brand your features with intimacy-enhanced kisses. Kisses that are barely reciprocated by you, particularly with the way you are still so out of it — unable to repair yourself from the orgasm and his continuous pounding.

One you didn't want to stop.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Eren's eyes widen with swiftness, only before growing low once more, the entirety of his body inhabiting a full sensation.

A tightness engulfs his lower half, placing a heaviness to engorge his being.

His sweat-enhance brows swell with intensity, his hips growing so effortlessly rapid, stealing off-guard moans from you. His pants grow so contorted with a rapidness, his eyes welling with tears, spilling upon the entirety of your tear-endured features.

Your parted lips fail to close, especially with another lingering tight sensation. The unbearable sensation leaves him barely coherent, his closeness being encouraged by a completely overwhelmed you.

Your ring of ivory cum coats his cock, beating against the entrance of your pussy. Cream bubbles form within the aflame area, all whilst he continues to treat the puffiness of your cunt — staining it further with the sensation of his hips.

He momentarily stills his hips before taking long thrusts, burying himself to a selfish angle — straining your overstimulated body.

A proud smile overtakes your lips, particularly whilst he glimpses down at you, his hips failing to unravel their franticness.

Letting out an animalistic growl, Eren huffs and puffs, carelessly bucking his lips. His movements are failing to falter, particularly with the way the firmness completely conceals the entirety of his comfort.

His pounding completely leaves you dumb-founded, your expression so whorishly displayed, your never-ending drool so prominent to his viridian eyes. He fails to fully acknowledge the moment, fucking you so deep, holding this deepness — his thick balls slapping against the bottom of your overworked cunt.

He continues to pound so harshly, approving of his lips to vigorously shake — whenever he meets his deepest position.

None of this harmed your being, it only inched you into a series of erratic moans, whimpers, cries, and whines. He could see the pleasurable tears in your glassy eyes, your jaded smile so effortlessly prominent.

The sensation of his engorged lower half falls into a rhythmic twitching, one that fails to find a controlled movement.

His thrusts grow pleasurably rough, his grunting and ample moans completely enveloping his being.

Inherently, his glistening sweat meets his warm forehead. Recklessly, the ample bed trembles so rapidly, the two of you so breathlessly encompassed within the moment.

Feeling the sensation grow so corrupt within him, he pulls back and thrusts his deepest within you, filling you with every inch of his girthy dick. Your stomach churns at the sensation, only before he gifts your barely coherent ears a strained whine, a pulsing sensation entering his cock.

The feeling of his cock twitching within you surrounds your being; a delectable hardness enfolds your desperation.

A series of your groans, whimpers and moans capture the essence of his ears, only before the rapid pulsating grows swapped out with an intensity.

An intensity that resembles a firm shot. A firm shot that causes you to jolt, aware of his sensation of finishing inside of you.

"Ah! Fuck!" Eren beautifully whines out, his features scrunching whilst he views your parted lips — his lips in sync with the motion of your own.

"Y/n..." Eren's mutter causes you to feel a second sentiment within you, another spurt of cum completely overwhelming your soppy cunt.

Multiple substances slowly begin to drip, particularly with the way he collapses against you — redirecting a singular hand to slip his ample dick from your cunt.

The sensation welcomes a wet sound to infiltrate the environment, only for your cunt to twitch on the entirety of nothing — a lonesome sentiment infiltrating your being.

A tender sadness envelopes you, bringing you to relish the sensation of Eren — dressing his arms around a weeping you. One who begins to cry in the aftermath of intimacy, just as you invariably did.

In fear of being left unattended after intimacy.

"You've done so well, and I love you so much," Eren alters the positioning of the two of you, his body coddling the entirety of your state.

The cries you release dissipate the fact that his thick cum continues to leak out of you, staining the soft sheets you are both positioned upon.

"You've also done so well," Your lips completely enclose the entirety of Eren's, your fingers threading through his hair —despite him safely holding you. Safely planting his hand upon your plush ass.

"Please, just don't leave me," Your eyes well with tears, colliding with an experience you hold, "I just don't want to be left alone after sex." The desperation you spew causes Eren to hold you closer, his heart aching at the irreversible damage Armin had mentally planted upon you — leaving you to fear the entirety of every intimate situation you hold.

Eren has seen the aftermath of what Armin had put you through. Too many times. He wasn't going to lose you, this time.

"You're mine," Eren kisses the top of your head, "You, me and Elara are a family," His words warm your heart ferociously, welcoming your heart towards his genuine words.

"Thank you, Eren," Making sure to also comfort his state, you draw your lips upon his own — so grateful that your life is set to flourish with your best friend.

"Let me get us cleaned up," His carefree nature completely seals over the fears you hold towards your future, your heart growing so calm and set upon the beauty of this budding relationship.

—

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lollieskk · 1 day

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Angry love confession

"I don't get you Kacchan!" Izuku screams, frustration bubblig up inside of him. "God! I mean, y-you do these things. You scream at people when they talk badly about me, you punched Shindo when he tried to kiss me!"

Izuku turns around, facing Kacchan. He was standing by the doorway into Izuku's apartment still. The both of them were still a bit drunk probably but the greenette was sobering up very quickly. Kacchan looked shocked, mouth a bit agape.

"A-and then you talk to me like you hate me still! You ignore me for days on end. And then you hate people when you do the same to me!" The door was still wide open behind Kacchan, his neighbors could probably hear every single word.

"Say something!" Izuku finally screamed when his childhood friend didn't answer.

His and Kacchan's relationship has always been a disaster, ever since they were 3 their life's have been entangled. For better or for worse they have always been in each other's life's. Katsuki is the only person in Izuku's life who has ever pulled his strings like this- who has ever made him this mad- even so, he's the only one who has made him feel an overwhelming amount of happiness and bliss. No one could make Izuku sadder than Kacchan, but no one could lift Izuku as high.

"Look Deku, I just don' like when people talks shit 'bout ya," He sighed, stepping into the apartment more, closing the door behind him.

"No, don't do that! Don't undermine it, people don't just punch others for no reason!" He was breathing hard now, heaving even.

"He was forcing himself onto you, I just-"

"No he didn't!" Izuku interrupted. "I actually initiated the kiss Kacchan!"

"Fine, Deku! 'M sorry then, fuck!" The blond yelled, undoubtedly frustrated. "Can we just go to sleep? 'M tired 'n' to drunk for this shit". Kacchan took off his jacket and shoes, slumping in on himself and walking towards Izuku's bathroom.

The blond lived further away, train had stopped for the night, and was to drunk to drive, so Izuku -the dumbass he is- offered his sofa for the night.

"No! I wanna talk about this now!" The blond let out a loud groan, back toward Izuku now.

"Deku, seriously."

"I've been trying to be understanding, I have tried to see things your way, I have, really. But fuck I'm tired Kacchan, I-I can't do this anymore," Izuku's throat was closing up, like a big tennis ball stuck in his throat he can't swallow.

Kacchan turned abound, he looked shocked, afraid maybe but honestly Izuku was too tired to even try and confirm or deny.

"I'm done Kacchan, please," Izuku sighed, shoulders slumping.

Izuku tried walking by Kacchan and into his room, his plan was to probably just sleep for 12 hours, wake up and hope for Kacchan to leave on his own. And then after that, keep laying in bed until he felt like his bladders about to burst.

"Deku-" Katsuki grabbed onto his arm, more gently than expected. Izuku could easily rip his arm away but the stupid, delusional part of him didn't want to. If this was going to be the last time Kacchan's ever going to talk to him then Izuku would drag it out as long as he could.

"Look I'm sorry, I'm fucking sorry. I'll stop, just don't- don't-"

"Don't what Kacchan? Stop talking to someone who gets set of the second someone talks to me?" He didn't even have the energy anymore to yell at his friend ex friend.

"I'll stop, okay? Just don't leave."

"Why?" Kacchan's mouth opened and closed the second after. "Why Kacchan, why are we even friends? You don't even like me!"

"Yes we are!"

"Well you sure as fuck don't act like it Kacchan!" Seems like his energy was building up again.

"I'm not good at expressing my fuckin' feelings Deku! You know that!"

"Yes Kacchan, I know. But I can't be friends with someone who punches someone and then can't tell me why!"

Silence spread through the apartment, defending.

"Why Kacchan!" Izuku was screaming at the top of his lungs. He hadn't ever screamed like this before in this life he thinks. "Why!"

"Wh-"

"Beacuse I'm in love with you!"

#mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #love confessions #angry love confessions #bakugo x midoriya

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acetone4veins · 2 days

Note

do you have any hcs about Regina's diagnosis(and/or just realisation that she has) of autism + ADHD? like when it happened, how her parents dealt with it etc.

tysm and I love your hcs x

I think if she got diagnosed it had to have been when she was really young, before she learned how to mask fully

Anyone who's read my Regina character study knows I hc the George parents as awful so I don't think they would handle Regina's diagnosis well at all

They tell Regina she's not allowed to tell anyone because it would ruin their "perfect" image and put so much pressure on her to act "normal"

Alternatively, if we want to be slightly nicer, then maybe her mom is more okay with it then her dad and this is what ultimately splits their marriage. Because her mom disagrees with how her dad treats Regina which is why he's not in their life anymore

Regina probably buys in to the idea that there's something "wrong" with her and getting diagnosed just solidifies it in her mind, so she tries to just pretend it didn't happen and never gets any actual help in managing her autism/ADHD in healthy ways

This brings me back to my point that her meltdowns are always so intense because she spends so long repressing

I don't think Regina accepts this part of herself until post canon, when after the bus is gets impossible to hide with how stressed and in pain she is, but her friends are so understanding and they all try and learn about the best ways to help

She finally comes to terms with her diagnosis and starts to unmask around her friends eventually, and it's a whole learning process that she should've been allowed to go through as a kid but never did, so it's a lot of trial and error for her to figure out what works and what doesn't for her, and any potential triggers or stressors

#i'm so glad people like my hcs i really wasn't expecting to get so many requests for them <333 #mean girls #regina george #mean girls 2024 #mean girls musical #mean girls headcanons #regina george headcanons #autistic regina george #regina george hcs #andi answers

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elisysd · 2 days

Text

13. Don't know who I would be if you ever leave me

Masterlist - Previously - Next

Chapter soundtrack: If You Leave Me - Niall Horan

Hungary flew by in a blink of an eye. The whole weekend was a blur but the only thing Charles could think about and hold onto was how hard it was to hide how in love and happy he felt. He couldn’t try to justify it by saying the car and the season were getting better, even if it was true, it was not a good enough reason to look like he was walking on clouds and smiling like a mad man. He had barely seen you, apart from the media pen when lingering touches were tough to keep subtle and light. He was leaving the post race meeting, eager to come back to his hotel and spend time with you, when Silvia cornered him in a narrow corridor of the hospitality.

“Charles? A word, please.” the tight smile on her lips made him gulp in an uncomfortable manner. “I wanted to talk to you about… your image.”

“My image? What is wrong with it?”

“The sponsors are getting tired of your bachelor status. They want someone next to you to help promote the brands.”

Charles rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Not this conversation again, he was getting tired of it.

“Listen Charles, I’ve been in contact with a few model agencies. I ask them to provide me with a list of girls who would be a good fit. Then, I narrowed it down to a few names I think would suit your persona and…”

“And nothing, Silvia.” he cut her mid sentence, anger painted all over his face. “I won’t date anyone. Not tomorrow, not ever.”

“Charles, please consider it.”

“No! I’m seeing someone, okay! And I love her very much. I would appreciate it if you back off and leave me alone.”

“But… it’s perfect then! Why haven't you said it earlier? You should bring her along, the sponsors would be delighted.”

“No, I won’t.” He avoided her gaze, hoping she would drop it down, and leave him alone. He wanted to come back to you as soon as possible and an improvised meeting with Silvia was not on his to-do list.

“What are you hiding, Charles?” her eyes narrowed until they looked like viper's eyes.

“Nothing.”

“If it can cause a huge scandal, I need to know so I can prepare your defense.”

“I need to talk to her before, Silvia. Please respect that. I won’t tell you anything that can make her uncomfortable.”

He could see how annoyed it was making Silvia but he didn’t care, for the first time in his life, he wanted to prioritize his personal life over his Ferrari’s duties, whether Silvia liked it or not.

That’s how he came back pissed off from the track. He wanted nothing more but to see this car being burned at the end of the season and his conversation with Silvia hadn’t brightened his mood. But when he opened the door of his hotel room and saw your suitcase right next to his, it made him smile. A wave of comfort washed over him when he noticed you sitting down at the desk, writing on your notebook, your hair acting as a curtain framing your face. He slowly approached you, putting both hands on your shoulders and kissed the top of your head. You looked up and smiled before closing your notebook. You stood up and went for a hug before feeling how tense he was, making you frown.

“The meeting didn’t go as planned, I suppose?” you asked, massaging his shoulders, hoping to relieve the tension.

“It’s not that…I met Silvia on my way out.”

Then, he told you everything and it was your turn to flinch and tense. You turned away and looked through the window, lost in thoughts.

“I won’t say anything until you tell me I can. I promise.”

“I know… I’m sorry to put you in this situation. I asked for a meeting with my boss but it won’t be before a few weeks. I really hoped to get done with it before the summer break so I could enjoy it in peace and not stress over it.”

“Speaking of summer break… I was hoping you would agree to join me.” he took her hands in his, pulling her against his chest.

“I would love to, you know I do. But we can’t risk being seen together until I solve the situation at work.”

“I know, but please, consider it before saying no. I can make the arrangements to make sure we won’t be bothered, that no paparazzi will be in sight. I can protect you, you just have to say the word. Imagine that, us, in the middle of the ocean, on my yacht, with no one to bother us. How does it sound?”

“Dreamy. You make it hard for me to say no.”

“That’s the goal.” he grinned.

“I need a little time to think about it, okay?”

He nodded and kissed your forehead.

“That's all I'm asking from you. Whatever you decide, I won’t get mad.”

Soon, Spa arrived and with it the last race before the summer break. You were a bundle of nerves like rarely you’ve been. You were exhausted and waiting for the holidays like a thirsty man finding an oasis after days of walking in the desert. But you had to stay focused, today was a big day. You were expected in Mercedes' hospitality to interview the one and only Lewis Hamilton. You like dot think you were now experienced enough to do a good job with it but still, you had a huge amount of respect for Lewis. For both his off tracks and on tracks activities. And even if you had interviewed him in the past in the media pen, it was not the same. There was a difference between two questions after a race and a long interview of thirty minutes, in a chill environment. You had spent the night working on it under the light of your phone, trying to not wake up Charles. You wanted, no you needed, this interview to go perfectly because if it was then it would come handy if things were turning sour with your boss. You could use this as a proof that it wasn’t affecting your job in any way, that you were still a perfect fit. At least you hoped so.

You arrived in the early morning, ready and determined to do your best job ever. You were welcomed by a coffee, not as good as the one served in the Ferrari’s hospitality you noticed, and went through the back where two comfy looking gray armchairs were displayed. The lady told you that Lewis would arrive soon and you sat down, going through your notes until you saw him from the corner of your eyes. He smiled gently at you as you shook his hand and took place in the armchair in front of you.

“Lewis, thank you for accepting this interview with us, I know how busy you are so let’s get right into it. Lewis, today I don’t want to talk about Lewis Hamilton the world champion. If you don’t mind, I would rather talk about Lewis Carl Davidson Hamiton. Can you describe what kind of kid you were at school and at home?”

His eyes were lightened by a playful glow and he smiled before taking his time to answer.

“Do you know the show Dennis the Menace? Well, it was me. Dennis the Menace 2.0.” he laughed. “I was climbing trees, I was just always riding my bike down the fastest hills… I was naturally super competitive in everything that I did and my dad helped me concentrate that energy into racing. That's where my stability came from.”

You kept talking about many things, from his passion for Ayrton Senna to his travels and how hard it was to maintain friendships and how he was managing the fact that his words had an impact on people. At the end of the interview, you felt like you had managed to bring to light a new side of who Lewis Hamilton was and you were very proud of it.

When it was over you made your way out only to come across a well known figure. You smiled wide recognising Mick and didn’t think twice before hugging him.

“Hey, long time no see!” you greeted him.

“Yeah! I see you from afar from time to time but you’re alway so busy I don’t want to bother you by coming to see you.”

“Nonsense! Feel free to bother me any time. You’re my friend.”

You stayed chatting for a few minutes, laughing and promising to stay in touch when you felt a shadow behind your back and Mick’s smile dropping instantly. You looked back and saw Charles, a dark look on his face, visibly angry.

“All is good, here? Am I interrupting something? I don’t think flirting with the media is allowed, Mick.” he spitted, making you blush with embarrassment as Mick was stuttering.

“I… We don’t… I was just…”

“Don’t you have a Mercedes to check? it’s not like it was very competitive, not sure you're making a great job at the factory. You should focus more on that instead of sweet talking girls who are clearly trying to do their job right.”

You felt your heart ache for Mick who looked at his feet before giving you a tight smile. Saying that you were mortified was un understatement and you were starting to feel angry. You clenched your fists in order to calm down as you felt Charles getting closer to you.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“I don’t know, you tell me!” Charles replied harshly before disappearing.

Mick noticed your reactions and it didn’t take long before he put two and two together.

“Is there something going on between you guys?”

“It’s complicated..” You looked over your shoulder to see Charles walking fast.

“It’s fine. Go after him.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice as you rushed to his garage. You were about to call for him, when he noticed you and decided to go in the opposite direction, in a place where you had no access. You swore under your breath, not understanding where all of this was coming from and how childish he was acting. Your day had started so well but now, you were pissed off. And he was the only one to blame.

When you came back to your hotel after a tiring day, you expected to be alone and you were looking forward to it. So, when you opened the door and found Charles sitting on the bed, absent-mindedly scrolling on his phone, you were taken aback. You were not prepared to talk to him. You proceeded to ignore him as you put your things on the sofa and locked yourself in the bathroom. You changed into comfier clothes and removed your make-up, taking more time than needed. But when you finally found yourself with no reasons left to stay locked in, you took a deep breath and opened the door to see Charles right in front of you. You sighed, not ready to talk to him and went to the bed, where he followed you.

“I don’t want to talk to you.” you stated.

“Y/N, please…”

“No. The way you acted with Mick? How embarrassed I felt? No, scratch that, humiliated you made me feel… that was uncalled for. And highly unprofessional.”

“As if we had a professional relationship.” he shrugged, making you snap.

“We do! When I’m out there, running around, my press access badge around my neck, I'm doing my job! Maybe I was talking to Mick for a future report or I was trying to gather some information from him.”

“You were laughing with him! And hugging him!”

“Mick is my friend! I shouldn’t even have to explain myself. Today was Mick, but what if tomorrow I'm talking and laughing with Lando or a mechanic from Aston Martin? Will you act the same way? You could have messed up something big for me acting like that! I just need you to understand it. My point is, when I have my badge on, you talk to me accordingly and you act around me accordingly. Just like I do when I’m interviewing you. I’m not your girlfriend in these situations.” you explained, eyes glued on him, hoping he would understand how angry you were.

“Don’t you think that maybe, just maybe, I snapped because I love you and it is harder and harder to pretend otherwise? I’m tired of hiding and I know I said I was okay with it at first, but not anymore.”

“Charles, I just need a few more weeks… soon it will be over.” you sighed. “The situation is not funny for me either…”

“I’m just wondering if you really want us to be official. If your boss isn’t just an excuse to avoid committing to us fully. I’m scared, okay. Scared you’ll find another excuse when the job one will be out of the equation.”

You gulped, clearly hurt before nodding, bitter.

“If you really think that low of me, I wonder why we are together.” You went to your suitcase and closed it before going through the door, Charles not even trying to hold you back. “I’m staying with Marion tonight, don’t bother waiting for me tomorrow.”

Charles stood still, looking at the now closed door and feeling guilty about the way he had treated you. It was unfair to accuse you of not being one hundred percent committed to making this relationship work. You had never given him a reason to doubt you. He knew he had screwed up, he knew he was an idiot, he knew you had every reason to get mad at him. He let himself fall on the bed and screamed in your pillow which was still smelling like you. He also had to apologize to Mick, it was stupid to act this way around him.

His thoughts drifted back to you. What if you really meant that it was pointless to stay together? He didn’t want that. You were the love of his life, there was not an ounce of doubt in his mind that he wouldn’t end up getting married to you. He knew it. He couldn’t explain it, but he knew. He sighed and did what he was always doing in case of doubts. He called the only person in this world that always knew how to calm him down and how to figure things out.

“Charles? What a pleasant surprise. I wasn’t expecting you, it’s late.”

“Yeah… I know, it’s just… I needed to talk to you.”

“It seems important.”

“I’m in love, mom.”

There was a silence on the other end of the line, before she spoke again.

“I had my suspicions. You don’t come very often anymore and you were barely in Monaco for the last few months. I didn’t want to ask because I know how careful you are with introducing girlfriends to me.”

“She is a reporter.It makes everything harder… she has to announce it to her boss and then I will have to announce it to Silvia. She is not leaving me alone, she absolutely wants me to find a girlfriend. And when it is all done, I will make our relationship public but then, people will talk, people will probably hate on her and what if she freaks out and decides to leave? I wish sometimes I was more… normal, then it would be so complicated.”

He proceeded to tell the story of how he met you up to the fight. Not once had his mom interrupted him and when he was finally done, he felt lighter.

“I love her mom. More than I’ve ever loved anyone. And I just screwed up in a brilliant way.”

“You did, there is no point denying it. But there is nothing a good conversation and a good apology won’t fix, Charles. I can hear how much you love her and I don’t know her yet, but I’m sure she loves you too. It must be a tough situation for her to handle, try to put yourself in her shoes.”

“I know… I just want her to be happy with me.”

“Start with showing her that you’re sorry. It’s a good first step.”

The next day, he went to search for you in the paddock between the two sessions of Free Practices but you were nowhere to be found. Instead, he ended up running into Marion as she was walking out of the broadcast cabins.

“Hey, Marion! Have you seen Y/N? I’m searching for her…”

“Oh? She hasn’t told you? She requested to work in the F2 paddock this weekend. I thought you knew.”

“Well… clearly not.” he sighed, annoyed. “ He perfectly knew why you had asked for it. You didn’t want to see him.

Coming back to his room at the end of the day felt weird. Not seeing your suitcase next to his felt weird. Not feeling the heat of your body in the bed felt weird. He tossed and turned in his bed until he couldn’t anymore and got up. He couldn’t keep going like this, he needed to see you. It didn’t take long to find in which room you had been transferred and he was glad for a moment you decided to not change your hotel. He smiled when the lady at the desk told him the number. It was three doors next to his. Maybe you weren’t that angry if you had accepted to stay near him. He knocked and heard some sniffles in the room before seeing the door opening, revealing yourself in one of his sweaters he hadn’t noticed was missing, eyes puffy and red stained cheeks.

He didn’t think twice about it and took you in his arms and soothed your hair.

“I’m sorry.” you mumbled in his chest. “I shouldn’t have left… I shouldn’t have told you that we should break up… it was childish… ”

“Stop. I’m the one who is sorry for having overreacted.”

“I don't want to break up. Not today and not ever. It’s hard for me too, you know, to hide. You’re not the only one having a hard time dealing with it and I’m sorry I should’ve said it sooner…”

“I promise you we will find a way and I promise you I won’t act like a dickhead when you’re doing your job. I don’t want to complicate it for you.” he put his forehead against yours.

“I’m gladly taking the complicated and messed up situation if it involves you, Charles. I’m fine facing any obstacles as long as you are by my side. I’m in. And it hurts when you say that I’m not.”

“I didn’t mean it, I promise. So we’re good?”

“We’re good.” you nodded as you pulled him into your room.

Author's note: I couldn't leave you without any drama for too long, right? That would be boring otherwise...

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. Besides the fact that I absolutely love to read you, it helps a lot for the story to find its audience. I also have a taglist for this story, so if you want to be added so you never miss a chapter, let me know.

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calamitys-child · 1 year

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Unstoppable force (maintaining interpersonal relationships is difficult and stressful and frustrating) vs immovable object (not maintaining interpersonal relationships is somehow worse)

#one of my pals from work has developed a weird tendency recently where at work they barely like. have fun and chat with me any more #they often act very short and snappish with me at work now too #but outside of work we are as far as I can tell still decent friends #and hang out and share art and go to events and stuff together #and its started really getting to me but i don't want to be like. waaaah why am i not your work favourite whiny bitch about it #idk its WEIRD its weird and I don't know if im overthinking it or what #and i know my life would be easier if i just didnt do interpersonal relationships but i am also a debilitatingly lonely people pleaser

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fionnaskyborn · 1 year

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current mood:

#it's about people who have gone through events that are uncannily similar but have dealt it both the events and the aftermath in #drastically different ways. one of them was surrounded by people who didn't look and sometimes didn't act the part but ultimately meant #only well and the other only had one person who cared about him near him and not even that person was in a good enough place to give him #that sort of empowerment‚ the strength to try and fight against impossible odds and an inescapable situation #and i've seen takes (don't remember where) that state that rai is ultimately so much stronger than v because he managed to free himself #from the shackles of his assigned fate whereas v 'failed' to do so but like... i believe that v is equally as strong for just... existing.#and maybe the world would've been better off if he had died as soon as he learned the truth but he lived because he wanted to see a better #world and believed that him being stripped of his identity was a small price to pay for a better world but what makes him even stronger in #my eyes is the fact that he KEPT LIVING even when he realized that there was no way to make things better from his position as much as he #wanted to and when he saw that everything was going to hell and that he was doomed to just... stay there and be trapped and be forced to #work for ideas that directly oppose his own #and DESPITE ALL OF IT‚ HE KEPT HIMSELF ALIVE (until nato called and said ''hey bibo if you don't respond to the allegations we will nuke #your house'' (referring to V's OH) and bibo just. did not answer. and threw v under the bus and let him die like he was nothing #like i need you to understand this man has the mental resolve of joy herself but you aren't ready for that talk #look point is i think that if they were to ever meet rai would initially not like v at all and couldn't exactly pinpoint why he doesn't #like him - he's polite‚ relatively kind‚ a bit sassy at times‚ and really quiet‚ which in a way mirrors his own mannerisms - so he has no #clue as to why he /doesn't like him at all/ (and of course rai being rai would be polite in turn but he'd never be earnestly amiable)#UNTIL one of them tries to start a conversation about more mundane topics like music or movies and as they exchange opinions rai realizes #that he really doesn't have to bother with the whole thing about resolve and determination to pursue your own goals and differences in #ideologies and that he can just talk to this guy as if he were one of his friends from nyc from back when life was relatively normal #(aka before big shell and when the memories of his past were artificially surpressed HMM PARALLELS YES)#in conclusion v is less anti-raiden and more the second coming of joy and also the two of them would (eventually) be friends and talk about #film and music. rai would absolutely DIG some of the 80's stuff v listens to. thank you for joining me on yet another episode of 'insanity #with fionna'#zeta gear tag #i wrote a lot here and i've made some good points so in the tag it goes

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daydreaming-in-daisies · 2 years

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aaaaaand now I can't sleep bc of anxiety about my future and whether or not I'll even graduate next month 🙃

#Words #Personal #My grade in my bio class went way the fuck down after the test we took recently #I'm definitely gonna talk to my professor and advisor about it and see what kind of help I can get #Because I REAAAALLLLLYYYYY want to fucking leave #And it's scaring the shit out of me that it might not even happen anymore #Because I quit my job to focus more on school #But I did it like the week before the test so it was shitty timing #I keep getting emails from the school about graduation and I can't even get excited for it #I don't wanna walk if I'm not even finished with my degree #Like what the fuck is the point in that #Especially after being in college as long as I have #But yeah the anxiety hit me just now and now I'm sad as fuck lol #Godddd this sucks so much like college has truly been the worst era of my life #Tbh my entire 20s have been pretty shitty #I always get super annoyed when people say you're in your prime in your 20s LIKE BITCH IM FUCKING SUFFERING SHUT UP #why do people act like adolescence and early 20s is the only worthwhile part of your life #I'm honestly aching to see what life is like post college and I hate how this class and my former job have gotten in the way of that #And it sucks because I don't know anyone else who's dealing with the same situation so I feel very alone in this #Idk man everything is just shitty right now and I just wanna move on with my life #It seems like everyone in my life is under the impression that I'm just lazy bc it's taken me forever to get through college #But in reality I've dealt with so much bullshit in the past few years #Such as being in a whole cult that revolved around toxic positivity #dragging myself through a major I hated bc I had no idea what else to do with my life #And also losing a bunch of people I was once close with #It's hard to put into words how much all of that fucked me up #But a lot of that stuff has been going on since before college #But the worst of it definitely happened during college so that's also why I wanna move on #Because I associate my time at school with all of that shit #Damn I'm VENTING in these tags lmao

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pussy-ache · 18 days

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i mean really

#sometimes i think ... like oh maybe it was simply a case of me caring for her more than she cared for me #that seems to keep happening to me #but no #that phone call proved that i wasn't crazy or imagining it or being too forward or forcing anything #she's just entirely afraid of commitment and wants her cake and to eat it too #and it's like fine ... i don't even have THAT much of an issue with her polyamory #i think the issue is she sucks at communication #she wanted to make things more serious with me but only in theory. in reality she knew she would not be able to commit to me #and instead of Literally Just Saying That so i could bow out gracefully #she decided to string me along with promises instead #which really fucks with the head like she had me thinking i was imagining some parts of what we had in terms of how deep it was #and i don't use ''gaslighting'' lightly so i won't but i'd say she came pretty close to it #i was fine with her polyamory at first because it wasn't serious.#she then pushed me towards becoming more serious with her using empty promises #i'm glad she finally fucking admitted it. i just wanted her to say it. cuz i know we both know it's true #but i'm the type of person who is not actually going to say it for you to let you off the hook #i kept her on that hook for like a fucking year now. you want me to answer texts but can't answer to your past behavior? no.#you're not going to pick & choose which parts of me are worthwhile and which aren't. i won't let you.#and she knew that which is why she just kept lying to me AND herself about her nonexistent emotional maturity #she played me SPECIFICALLY because she knew i knew my own worth at that time #and she knew if she was honest i would have left a solid 6-8 months sooner than i did #and they all saw how she acted at that party. they know exactly how that shit blew up in her face and i fucking laughed and i'd do it again #i do not walk away from people or cut people off without very solid very specific reasons #the universe took care of it for me. we're barely friends now and that's fine with me in a lot of ways #go grow some more. develop a clearer understanding of yourself. your needs and your wants. and how to differentiate between them.#and leave me tf out of it #like i don't even have any interest in being her friend or in her life lmao

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gojonanami · 4 months

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❝ 𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃 ❞

❝ EVERYONE WANTS SATORU GOJO, SO WHY ARE YOU THE ONE STUCK GUARDING HIM ? ❞

✧ pairing: rich boy! gojo x bodyguard! reader

✧ summary: after the gojo family receives threats to their lives, you're hired to protect the heir to the company, satoru gojo - you just didn't realize how charming the rich heir would be - and just how hard it would be to resist his advances.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, fluff, reader is around the same age as gojo (both in their 20s but age is vague), virgin! gojo, switch! gojo, oral (f + m), handjob (m), dry humping, fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), depictions of violence, mentions of yakuza, dirty business dealings, gojo's made up dad and suguru make an appearance

✧ wc: 15,311 (i don't know what to say at this point)

✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 1 has been sold to @forest-hashira and two anons!

“So, is this your first time?”

Satoru Gojo would be the end of you — one way or another.

One way would be you sacrificing your life to protect him — fairly run of the mill when it came to guarding someone, the risk of putting your life on the line, though the chance of death usually was fairly slim. You had only come close — twice.

You didn’t care to make it a third.

The other, increasingly more likely, way was that you would lose your mind to his incessant yammering before you even had a chance to neutralize any threat to his life.

You nearly spit out your drink at the question, wiping your mouth with a napkin, before managin to choke it down, “Excuse me?”

And his lips annoyingly curl, “Your first time guarding someone,”

The heir seemed fairly nonchalant, even after his father had sat the both of you down in a room filled with more security agents than the prime minister of Japan himself had, and had lectured him about the importance of staying with you the entire time and to respect your authority — well one out of two wasn’t bad. He’s eating a piece of cake instead of a meal, his fork digging into the back of the cake again and again, toying with his food as he did with you, “I mean, you seem fairly young, but old enough to be entrusted with my safety,”

“Well, since you insisted on going to school, your father needed someone unassuming who looked around your age,” you lean against your hand, your other drumming against the table, as your eyes scanned the area — table of frat boys, group of girls sneaking glances at Gojo, various other students, no real threats — unless you counted the girls’ death daggers towards you, “someone who wouldn’t look out of place with you, raise any suspicions, but who could still protect you,”

His lips curl, as your eyes find their way back to the young heir, “So basically, you had to look like my girlfriend — shouldn’t I hold your hand? Sell the act? All in the name of my safety,”

You jerk your head towards his group of admirers, “I think what we’re doing now is plenty — unless you’d like your guard to get mauled by a bunch of hormonal college girls,”

His eyes slid to his adoring fans, as he pities them with a wave, erupting squeals from them, “I think you could take them,”

“How flattering,” you reply drily, picking at the food in front of you, “now finish your lunch so we can get to our next class on time,”

“Are you still upset that we were late this morning?”

“No, I’m upset that we missed half the class and I had to take the fall for it,” the heir had oh so kindly told the professor that you had made them run late (even though he was the one who spent far too long in the bathroom).

And even though you wouldn’t be attending this school for long, you hoped that you wouldn’t have to make yourself look like a fool the entire time you were here — but — your eyes found Gojo’s again — sticking with Satoru Gojo almost made that a guarantee that you would look like a fool — one way or another.

And you were already the fool — for thinking that a college aged boy would have any real food in his refrigerator. Although, Satoru Gojo was a different breed — instead of alcohol and questionable containers of takeout, there was...sweets.

So. Many. Sweets.

Not just cookies and candy — but literally six different kinds of mochi (for some reason?) and almost any pastry you could possibly think of was stocked in the house. And the freezer was more of the same — seven different containers of ice cream and one aged bag of edamame stuck in the back.

“Gojo?” you stare into the open refrigerator, while Gojo lays back on his couch, scrolling on his phone mindlessly.

“Yeah?”

“Do you have any food?”

“What do you mean? The refrigerator is full of food?” and his voice is thick with genuine confusion and you’re almost wondering how this man survived to this age.

Oh yeah, he’s rich.

You sigh, closing the refrigerator doors, and striding over to him, only to snatch his phone out of his hands, “Sweets are not real food — how do you eat like this and function?”

He only shrugs, lips curled into a grin, “I’m just built different,”

“You mean like a person who won’t make it to age fifty?” you toss his phone back at him, “get up,” you grab your sweatshirt hanging by the door and throw his jacket at him. He barely catches it, as he sits up, his face displeased with your sudden need to get him up.

“Where are we going?”

“So,” Gojo says, his hands in his pockets, as you both walk the aisles of the grocery store, “why did I have to come with you?”

“Because I’m going to show you how to actually shop for groceries, so you don’t have a heart attack and die before my stint with you is up,” you grab essentials and basics — oil, rice, cereal, pasta, spices, flour, sugar (although did he really need sugar with the amount he was already consuming?), “you know it would suck if my client died before we eliminated the other threats on his life,” before you add with a smile, “though I think your eating habits are more likely to kill you,”

“You know men really hate sarcastic women,” he bites back, before something catches his eye in the aisle and he places it in the cart, “major turn off,”

“Well, mission accomplished then,” you roll your eyes, as you look back at the cart to see a box of cookies, “you know when I said you were a moron, I was half kidding, but now,” you lift up the box of cookies, “you have a million cookies at home,”

He pouts — why do you feel like a mother refusing their child their candy at checkout? — “Not these ones,” you take the box and put it back on the shelf where it belonged, and he relents.

“Did you eat like this before college?”

He shook his head, “My meals were prepared for me by the chef at my home, I never really had much of a say in what I ate, or anything really,” and you shake your head, “my father wasn’t really the type to let me handle anything on my own — thus the need for a babysitter,”

You nod, “So no one really taught you how to take care of yourself?” and he shakes his head.

“Guess not, but I guess no time like the present to learn,” he examines the box of baking powder you had just placed in the cart, “like what this is,” and you snort, taking the box from him and placing it back in the cart.

“Maybe by the end of this trip, we’ll have you making it past the age of forty,”

He raises an eyebrow, “I thought you said fifty?”

“The cookies made me lose more faith in you,”

The two of you continue to shop, as you help him pick out vegetables, meat, and other necessities for the house. You separate the things for you and for him meticulously, as the two of you head over to the checkout, and he’s placing everything on the conveyor belt together, including your own things, “No wait, those are mine—”

“Consider it payment,” he stops you, as you continue to try to argue, but he’s only blocking you from the conveyor belt with a raised arm, a real smile on his lips, “just let me do this for you,” And you can’t find any words, so your mouth shuts, and you nod — as you watch him speak with the older cashier with his patented charm.

And the cashier stops you right as you’re leaving, whispering, “That’s a good one, don’t let him go, ok?” and you pause, her words sinking in as blood rushes to your cheeks.

“We’re not—”

“I know,” the older woman chuckles far too knowingly, as she hands you the receipt, “but you never know.”

“You coming?” Gojo calls, turning to look back at you, as he pushes the cart of groceries, and you look from the cashier to him, before fleeing with a quick ‘thank you.’

And as you go home, you glance at Gojo, maybe there was more to him than you initially thought.

“This is so boooooring,” Gojo’s whining for, what you assume is, the billionth time, “I hate philosophy, moral arguments? It’s such bullshit,”

“You know philosophy is literally a subject that encompasses everything right?” you tilt your head watching him lay on the floor as the two of you sit at the table, his head right next to you, as you sit cross legged, “there’s no avoiding it in life,”

“Well can’t I avoid it in school at least? Because college feels very different from real life,” and you roll your eyes, flicking him between the eyes.

“Just write your paper, I already finished mine,” and he perks up.

And he slides his laptop over to you, “Then you can write mine,”

“That’s not happening,” and he groans again, “you know if you spent all the time that you whined working on your paper then you’d be done,”

“Were you this much of a buzzkill when you were in college?” Gojo stares at you, “what do you even do for fun?”

“Why is this relevant to you writing your paper?”

“Why is writing my paper relevant to protecting my life?” and you open and close your mouth, “c’mon give me something, anything,”

“How about this — when you finish a page, I’ll answer a question, any question,” you offer, and he grins, as he sits up and begins to type away at his laptop.

You sit back, lying back and using your phone, until about fifteen minutes later when he’s holding his laptop up, showing you that he completed a page, “That fast?” you’re skeptical, and then you grab his laptop, skimming the page, wondering if he was trying to trick you — he wasn’t. It was good, more than good — it was a wonderful discussion of deontological ethics.

“How did you finish this so fast?” you raise an eyebrow, “you complain so much, but you wrote this page far too quickly,”

He shrugs, “I’m good at everything, sweetheart,” and you roll your eyes, “jealous?”

“Totally,” you scoff, before grinning, “so get back to work,” and he gapes at you, before groaning dramatically, lying back on the floor again.

“Ugh, this is too much work,” he whines again, “I don’t know why I had to take this stupid class,” he grumbles.

“Then why did you?” you scroll through your phone, checking for any new alerts or updates from his father or any other member of the security team, “you have a choice in what classes you sign up for, don’t you?”

And for one of the first times, you saw Satoru’s playfulness ebb away, replaced with almost a bitterness — as bitter as his words were usually sweet, “Maybe most college kids do, but I don’t have a choice in most of the things I do, including the classes I pick,”

You tilt your head, “Your father?” And he nods, “did you even choose your major?”

His eyes drift to the ceiling, “Is it a choice when your father tells you you’re either being groomed to run his company when you graduate or he’s not paying for you to go to school at all?”

“No, it isn’t,” you admit, “but it could be worse, he could have stuck you with a glorified babysitter on top of it,”

He cracks a smile, “I don’t know, maybe I have a thing for babysitters,” and you roll your eyes, cracking a smile.

“Get back to work.”

“Fuck,” Satoru muttered, watching the rain come down as he waited outside the university awning of the building he had just finished his class in. You had left him to go to class by himself — you trusted him enough not to get murdered while in class and on the walk back (high praise) — and said you’d likely just meet him back at the apartment. But now, he didn’t know how he’d get home without getting soaked.

He checks his phone for any rideshares nearby, but there were none. And he would rather go drown in the rain than call his father’s driver, and guarantee a lecture about being prepared for “any given situation.”

Shit. Maybe he would just risk walking.

So he did. The rain soaked through his clothes all too quick, the wet fabric clinging to his skin, and the cold leeching the warmth from his body. And he couldn’t help but think if you were with him, you would have remembered to bring an umbrella.

Weird, when did he ever really rely on anyone else?

Yes, his father had maids, cooks, and personal shoppers when he was growing up — but they weren’t people he relied on — he did, but it was expected. It was their job. And yes, he was a job for you too — but…it was different.

Satoru didn’t know when it happened but he had gotten used to your presence in his life. Whether it was at home or in class, you were always there. And it wasn’t as annoying as he thought it would be. It was…nice to have someone there to lean on. But, as he glanced up at the storm clouds, holding a hand above his eyes — rolling dark clouds with no signs of the rain letting up — this would be his reality once the threats were a distant memory.

“Gojo!” He blinks, his eyes snapping forward, and he sees someone coming over the horizon.

It was you — umbrella in hand, as your footsteps echoed with the splashes of water from the rain that collected on the ground. And you found your way to him, holding the umbrella over his head. He stared at you as you grew closer, wondering if you were real. And he wasn’t surprised you found him —

“How did you know?” He asks when you stand, catching your breath, short pants, as your eyes flicker up to his.

“You always forget your umbrella, so I figured you needed one,” you shrugged, “plus I finished my meeting early so I came to get you,” and he only stares at you, “what?”

And he only shakes his head, as he takes the umbrella from your hand, fingers brushing, as he holds it up over the both of you, your shoulders brushing as you begin to walk home. And he found himself wishing for a split second that the threats would never stop.

“Just wondering if it’s in your job description to protect me from colds too,” and you snort, lips curling into the same smile he loved to see.

“With you? It is.”

“A party?”

“Yes, known as a gathering of people where—”

“I don’t need you to define the word,” you grit your teeth, as you watch him pull out shirts from his closet, holding them up, before shrugging, “do you know the kind of danger you could put yourself in by going?”

“I know, the party might go into a frenzy at the sight of me, think of all the students who’d glare at you then,” he grins, as he finally settles on an outfit — charcoal gray shirt and a blue button down, “might have to call another bodyguard to guard you instead, princess,”

“Aren’t you the princess if you’re the one being guarded?” you bite back, and he only laughs, hands in his pockets, “Gojo, you have serious threats that have been levied—”

“Against my father—”

“And you, the heir to your father’s company,” you cut him off, crossing your arms, “are you seriously going to risk our lives because you want to get drunk and fuck around with a bunch of idiots?”

The answer was yes, of course.

And now here you were, stuck babysitting this spoiled heir at a party. You hadn’t really been to any parties — hadn’t bothered to. You had gotten through college at a young age, perks of skipping a few grades, and you ended up in the family business regardless — so you didn’t bother to party much. Not when you had things to accomplish — babysitting a drunk heir wasn’t one of them.

It has started as you expected. Gojo had flitted away from your side the first moment he got, disappearing into the throng of horny and drunk college students. You wove your way through the crowd, careful not to trip over the students making out, dancing, or drinking on nearly any available surface. The smell of beer and cheap cologne wafted through this dorm. And you had almost given up on finding him when you spotted him stuck to the sides of three girls, all of them far too eager to hang off his every word.

You sighed, this was going to be a long night.

“You one of Satoru’s girlfriends?” you glance to your side and see Suguru Geto in person. You had learned all about Satoru Gojo and the people he hung around. Like those three girls — one of them had a long distance boyfriend, the other had a cheating situationship she was trying to make jealous, and the other just wanted to fuck him for the experience. Suguru Geto was one of the only friends of Gojo you had liked from what you had read about him — humble background, on scholarship at the college, but one of the best students here — and a philosophy student of all things, the very subject his best friend hated.

You want to say no, but unfortunately, you have no idea what the idiot has been saying to other people, “Something like that,” you sip at your drink to make the bitter words slide down, “why? Are you?”

A chuckle slips past his lips, as he takes a swig of his drink, “Well I already like you better than the others. You have a sense of humor and seemingly more than two brain cells,”

“Don’t give me too much credit,” you snorted, leaning against a wall, “I did end up here after all,”

“Fair enough, how’d he convince you to come?” And you shake your head — good question. What choice did you really have? You could have let him go alone, but probably not a good look

“I don’t even know honestly, feel like I’ve been dragged here to make sure he doesn’t do something stupid,” you glance at him and the gaggle of girls, “though maybe I already fucking failed at that,”

Geto shrugs, as his gaze slips from Gojo to you, “I mean until he sticks his tongue down one of their throats, I think you’re doing pretty well,”

You laugh, “Good to know,” and you both continue to chat, and unbeknowst to you, while your focus is torn away from Gojo, his attention is fully on you.

If looks could kill, Satoru imagined his crystal eyes were nothing more than daggers ready to strike, as he watches you and Suguru talk.

It was his fucking idea to come to this party, so why were you having more fun than he was?

He swirled his drink miserably — he had barely taken a sip of the beer poured for him — why would he when it tasted like piss? He didn’t understand why people liked to drink — especially when they could eat mochi instead — but now, as he stares at you and Suguru, maybe he was starting to understand.

He can’t hear what either of you are saying over the blaring music and the chatter of students surrounding him, but he can see the smile on your lips and the laugh that left them.

Why the fuck do you look so happy to talk to Suguru?

You seemed so bored when he was with you—and did you just fucking laugh again at something Suguru said?

The crinkle of plastic and the distinct feeling of a spill made his gaze snap to his hand — he just crushed his plastic drink cup. He sighed, as he simply placed it among the other abandoned drink cups on a nearby table, before wiping off his hand with a napkin.

Why did he even care? You were nothing but a nuisance anyway. All you did was follow him around, make him go to class on time, make sure he was safe, care about his well-being—

What the fuck was he thinking?

His eyes couldn’t help but slide back to you as he tried to enjoy the girls' company, their slight touches and soft pouts and sweet words not going unnoticed by him. But that was how it always was. Once people found out he was rich, people wanted to be his friend, they wanted to date him, they wanted him — but not really him, they wanted his money.

First world problems, right?

But you — you hadn’t been like that. You were irritatingly punctual, unfazed by his money, didn’t care in the slightest about his father or who he was — you just wanted to do your job. And he was your job, for the time being.

And now he got to see you smile — your lips perfectly curled in a smile that both he wanted to see all the time and grated on his nerves — but you were smiling at someone else. And Suguru no less.

“C’mon Satoru, you gonna make eyes at your boyfriend all night?” Aiko said, nudging him teasingly, her words far too slurred.

“Help us finish these shots,” Yumiko whines, as she offers him a shot, urging it into his hands.

He’s grimacing, he hates alcohol — he hates how he feels during and after; he hates the disgusting, metallic taste; and if it couldn’t get worse, he’s a lightweight. He stares at the shot.

“It’s just one shot,” Misaki grins, holding up her own, clinking hers to his, “you’re already three shots behind everyone else,”

And he’s about to open his mouth to refuse — make up an excuse of having to wake up early or stomach being unsettled — and that’s when you catch his attention. You were laughing now, a noise far too pretty for his liking, as you shoved Suguru’s chest playfully.

Fuck it.

He downs the shot, the liquid searing down his throat, dragging down until it settles in a burning pool in his stomach. Finally he tears his gaze away as the girls offer him another shot — as you grin at Suguru — this was going to be a long night.

“Hey,” Geto jerks his head, “you might want to deal with that,”

You whip your head around.

“Oh what the—“

Gojo was hanging all over the girls he was with, barely able to stand on his two feet, as he swayed from side to side — his cheeks glowed with the telltale glow that told everyone he had been drinking (if that wasn’t obvious by literally everything else).

Fuck.

You had kept an eye on him. You swore he had only taken two shots of alcohol, how was he this drunk already? You examine and sniff the two shot glasses he used — no peculiar smell or residue — you run through the gamut of tests you could do on hand and conclude two things: 1) Gojo wasn't drugged and 2) he was a lightweight.

But that didn’t stop him from acting like he wasn’t, as girls egged him on to take more shots, and from the way they were eyeing him, their intentions were anything but pure.

You sigh, walking over, slipping past a drunk couple making out, a person passed out and sleeping on the floor, and a cluster of cheering onlookers as a student chugged what you can only assume was a disgusting concoction of alcohol.

Until you finally reached his side.

“I think you’ve had enough, isn’t that right, Satoru?” And he’s blinking at you, before he’s grinning, slurring your name.

“You’re no fun,” and he’s clinging all over you, his hands curled around your waist, “such a buzzkill, don’t even like to have any fun with me,”

“Looks like you had too much fun without me,” you murmur, your arm slinks around the middle of his back, “let’s get you back to your dorm,”

“Hey he’s fine, he’s having fun with us,” Aiko glared at you, a hiccup leaving her lips, “don’t go crashing our good time because he’s not interested in you,”

“Yeah why don’t you go hang out with Geto or whatever? We’ll take good care of him. C’mon Toru, let’s go to my place in Shibuya, I have a huge house there,” Yumiko says, barely coherent, and you raise your eyebrows at the nickname, as she leans in to whisper, alcohol wafting off her breath, as she lifts up her middle finger, “fuck off,”

Honestly the only reason you can understand the gist of what she meant was because of her middle finger. Their other friend is passed out on the couch.

“I don’t think any of you can even care for yourselves,” you scoff, and Satoru is hanging all over you already, mumbling words you can’t make out in your ear, “I’m taking him home, you should take your friend home,”

“Geto, wanna help me out?” And Geto nods, trying to take Gojo other arm, but Gojo pushes him away, instead clinging to you, you stumble a moment before catching both of you, “Gojo—“

“No, wanna go home with just you,” he’s officially whining, and you’re having flashbacks to the summer you spent babysitting, but — you look at the drunk white porcupine clinging to you — somehow this idiot is worse than the kid.

You sigh, “Geto, make sure that girl gets home safe,” you gesture to the one passed out on the couch, “I’m going to deal with this one,”

Geto stares at the two of you, the far too tall Satoru hunched over onto your body, “Can you—“

But you’re already walking away, able to drag Gojo away with relative ease (it’d be far easier if he’d pull his own weight, but at least he was quiet).

That was, until you got outside. And then the whining began again.

“How can you treat me like this?” Gojo’s hands cling to your arm, his face buried in your shoulder, “you shouldn’t ignore the one you’re supposed to protect!” and he’s shaking his head like a petulant child, his bottom lip quivering.

“You’re the one who left my side, not the other way around,” you grumble, as he’s finally beginning to walk by himself but he’s still stuck to your side like an overgrown cactus, “you’re the one who wanted to go to this goddamn party,”

“Yeah but you’re the one who's supposed to protect me,” he pouts, as he stops right in front of his building, “I can’t do your job for you,” and he’s finally standing in front of you, his cheeks and nose still flushed from the alcohol, his hand still clutching at yours, “do you even know how to do your job?”

You grit your teeth. Would punching the person you’re hired to protect be a breach of contract? You rub your temples, it may come to that.

“You’re an idiot,” you jerk your hand away, shaking your head, “my job is to protect you, not to stop you from doing stupid college boy shit,”

He’s crossing his arms, “I could have been in danger — what if that alcohol was poisoned? I feel really sick,” he grips, holding his stomach with pursed lips, and you’re thoroughly unimpressed.

“I looked at it, it wasn’t poisoned,” you raise an eyebrow, before sighing, and shrugging your shoulder bag off your shoulders, rooting around in the pouch, “but if you want, I have something in my bag that will turn your stomach inside out and we’ll be sure to get the poison out,”

“Nooooo, no! I’m fine,” he’s shaking his head, his voice grows soft, “I just need to get to bed,” he mutters, and you roll your eyes, but grab him by his wrist.

“Come on, we’re going inside,” and it’s a struggle to get to his apartment — more like a luxury penthouse — on the top floor, but somehow you get him inside and shepherd into his bedroom. And he’s shrugging off his button up before pulling off the shirt underneath.

Your gaze snaps away, cheeks burning, your eyes trying to erase the glimpse of his fucking unfairly chiseled physique — complete a surprisingly broad chest and shoulders — how the fuck was that hiding under his clothes? He looked like a stick normally with his clothes on.

“See something you like?” he’s snickering, as you hear the click of his belt and the and sounds of rustling — assuredly stepping out of his jeans.

“No, just not used to clients stripping for me,” you turn your back to him, as you hear the creak of the mattress and the crinkling of his comforter and sheets.

“Am I just a client to you?” his words were still mildly slurred, and you knew he’d be pouting if he had enough brain cells to do so, “you can turn around, I’m under the covers,” he adds with a grumble.

You turn and see him curled up under his blanket and you have to bite back your smile — now he most assuredly looked like one of the kids you used to babysit.

“Well what else am I supposed to see you as, Gojo?” you cross your arms, and he’s muttering under his breath, “what?”

“That’s just it. You don’t even call me by my first name,” he’s brooding, face twisted in a scowl, “I don’t have a lot of people I trust. Most people are just after my money or my looks,” he looks at you, “you’re different. Kinda weird,”

You quirk an eyebrow, “is that a good thing?”

“Well I trust you,” he admits, and you note the tips of his ears barely visible outside the comforter are red — is it still the flush from the alcohol? “I don’t really have many of those,”

And you’re taken aback — you thought you were nothing but a nuisance to this party obsessed prince, but maybe there was more to him than you thought. You toyed the ring on your finger, maybe you had more in common than you thought.

“Thank you, I’m glad you do, because you can, trust me that is,” you say softly, “good night, Satoru.”

And he does sleep after that, as you spend the night keeping watch, half to ensure his safety and the other to make sure he slept on his side in case he threw up

(and he did, twice).

“I need to talk to you,” Suguru Geto barely looked up from his phone when he saw Satoru in front of him, his best friend looking more irritable than usual — his usually bored affect seemed to be on holiday, “Suguru?”

“I heard you the first time, what is it?” and Satoru snatches the phone from Suguru’s hands, “what the fuck—“

“What were you doing last night?” and Suguru tilts his head, before rubbing his temple.

“Give me my fucking phone—“

“What did you talk to her about?” And Suguru stares at him, his brow furrowed, smart mouth ready with a reply about a stint in a spa or a retreat was needed before his lips curl.

“Oh. Her,” and he’s leaning back, a lazy shrug, “this and that,”

“Cut the shit, Suguru, do you like her or not? Did you get her number?” And Satoru is trying to unlock Suguru’s phone, as Suguru watches with a tilt of his head and a wry grin on his lips, “huh? what is it?”

“So you like her, that much is clear,” and he’s crossing his arms, “I assume you didn’t tell her or you wouldn’t have come in swinging and stealing?”

Satoru stares at him, slack jawed and cheeks turning a deep pink that only carnations could rival, “No! She’s just a…friend of the family, and she’s not supposed to be with—“

“She told me she liked you,” his heart catches, mouth falling open, before Suguru’s lips curl, “well, she said that she was one of the many, rather,”

Satoru’s cheeks burn, “It’s not like that, she barely even fucking looks at me. Can you believe that? Me?” and he gestures up and down his body.

“I see your ego is still intact,” Suguru scoffs, shaking his head, before leaning back on his palms, “just tell her how you feel, Satoru, what’s the problem?”

“The problem is I have no idea how she feels and it’s all your fault!” And Suguru raises an eyebrow, “you charmed her and I’m sure you’re the only one she’s thinking about now,” he covers his face, “and after what I said to her last night…” he couldn’t believe he admitted that you were the one of the only ones he trusted. And he called you weird.

He honestly didn’t know what was worse.

“What did you even say?”

“Say to who?” and Satoru turns, finding you standing behind him, arms crossed.

And Satoru cuts Suguru off before he can say a thing, “Not important. What are you doing here—“ you grab him by the wrist, a wave of heat makes his nearly burn red as you begin to drag him away, “what are you—“

“Bye Geto,” you say, waving at the raven haired student, before taking Geto’s phone and tossing it back to him, “I’m taking the idiot—“

“HUH?”

“Good luck. He might need to be fed — he’s in a mood,” and he waves back, same smile on his lips.

“What did you two do, adopt me?” Satoru grumbles as you pull him away, “where the hell are you dragging me? How did you even find me?”

“The post hangover suits you well, we have to get to class, and I placed a tracker on you,” and he’s jerking his hand away, staring at you, “I have to be able to find you, don’t I?”

“Where?”

You tilt your head, “Why would I tell you? Don’t worry about, I’ll remove it after we’re done here,”

You weren’t going to budge on this — and if he argued more, you would take it up with his father. And he would like to avoid that as much as possible. He sticks his hands in his pockets, , “I’m tired, can’t you just go and take notes for me?”

“I thought you’d be more concerned about the threats against your life, instead of sending your bodyguard off to your class for you” you hiss, and he’s pouting again, unable to meet your gaze, “what’s your problem, Satoru?”

And he pauses, the retort on lips dying as his brain looped in an infinite spiral of his name on your lips, “You called me ‘Satoru,’”

You tilt your head, “you told me to last night,” and then you add with a wicked grin, “remember? When you said I was one of the only people you trusted,” you tease, but he’s too busy hearing his name repeat in his head again and again, “Satoru—“

“Better be careful, sweetheart,” his lips curl into that annoyingly charming smile, “keep calling me by my first name and I may fall for you,”

You glare at him, before rolling your eyes, “I see you’re feeling better now,” you walk forward, glancing back at him, “you coming?”

And his wrist tingles still tingle from your touch, his lips quirk into a smile, “Yeah.”

“Why did you become a bodyguard?” Satoru asks you, the movie you had haphazardly chosen still ongoing had all become background noise while you spoke, the illumination from the television screen being the only thing that kept your faces lit in the dark living room (he had insisted on shutting the lights off for an “authentic movie watching experience”).

It had been a few weeks, with no signs of the threat posed ever being eliminated — still new threats were being made, and the Gojo family was still on edge.

But you were on edge for a whole other reason.

His fingers were still shoved in the bag of kettle corn he had been snacking on this entire time, but you could feel his gaze on you, instead of the movie.

“What do you mean?” your eyes slide to him, as your phone’s ringer goes off with a spam email, and you silence it, keeping it on vibrate for emergencies, “and what’s with the sudden question?”

The two of you had settled into your routine — days spent in class, meals shared, grocery shopping, and nights spent either in or out — but again, always together. And, it wasn’t bad — some of it was fun, to the point you almost forgot you were working.

But you were working. Even now, as your legs are thrown up on the couch, crossed underneath you, your knee brushing against his thigh.

He shrugs, “You owe me a question, remember?” and he reminds you of your promise from weeks ago — you had wondered why he had never asked you anything that night, “You never talk about yourself. You implied you have your degree, but not much else. From what I’ve seen of you, you’re intelligent — you could have done anything, why this?” and his lips curl into that mischievous, “unless you just had to guard me when you found out it was me,”

You toss a throw pillow at him, but he catches it with ease, “If only your body was as bulletproof as your body,” and he huffs out a laugh, as you sigh, “why are you interested anyway?”

“Because I am,” you scoff.

“Nice reasoning,” he only grins, a thousand watt even in the dark.

“I thought so,” and he’s holding the pillow to his chest, “c’mon, can you not tell me even one thing about yourself?”

He wasn’t going to let this go was he? And you relent, chewing on your lip, “My family has been in this business for years — my grandfather, my father, my uncles, and my cousins, and I wanted to be one too. To protect people — it’s a lot more work than it seems. It’s quick thinking, critical reasoning, and analytical skills. It’s all I ever wanted to do after watching my dad do it,” you say softly, “but he didn’t think I was capable of it. He thought I was too soft. Too weak. So I decided to prove him wrong,”

“You weak? Has your father met you?” and you huff a laugh, “I’m serious,” his cerulean pools meeting yours with not a ripple of hesitancy in them, “I’ve seen you — I don’t I’ve met anyone this determined, or stubborn,” he adds with a smirk.

“I’m stubborn?” you gape at him, “this coming from the king of stubborn,”

“Only if you’ll be my queen,” and you roll your eyes, but your cheeks burn, as your gaze turns back to the movie — why did your heart catch at his words? “but trust me, I’m very flexible in other aspects,”

“Oh my god, is every other sentence that leaves your mouth a pick-up line?” and he opens his mouth, “don’t say ‘only for you,’ or I will be the only threat you have to worry about,”

“Promise?” you grab another pillow, but he catches your wrist before you can toss it. Your breath catches, and you can’t meet his gaze — you can’t, because you know if you do— but then he whispers your name.

And you can’t help it. You look at him. His eyes are so pretty. They were really the first things that struck you when you met him — that was before he opened his mouth. They looked like they contained multitudes, a far too beautiful ocean tucked behind sunglasses and an irritated scowl. But it wasn’t a secret that Satoru Gojo was attractive — especially not when every other person glared at you for simply being in his presence. But physical attractiveness meant little if a person wasn’t good — because superficiality could only take you so far.

And you knew what it was like to be only judged superficially — and by the way Satoru’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes when these people chatted him up, he was far too used to it.

And once he did speak, you had written him off as another rich kid — you had seen them a dime a dozen throughout your schooling and from the people your family was protected to hire. But there was something about him — something you couldn’t quite shake, even though every part of you was telling to do so.

“What is it, Satoru?” And his fingers tug you a little closer, gently, his hand loose enough for you to slip away, but you don’t. Why don’t you?

“You don’t always have to have your guard up,” his voice is soft, far too soft for the far too loud heir, “it’s okay to open up,”

You shake your head, but still unable to pull away, “It’s dangerous,” and he laughs, a sound that only warms the thin icy barrier between you both, melting it to nothing.

“Isn’t danger the whole reason we met?” And now his thumb brushes up and down against your wrist, and you wonder if he can feel your pulse roaring just underneath.

You pull away again, shaking your head, as you cross your arms, trying to hold your resolve together, “I can’t do my job if I’m distracted,” and you couldn’t, even now, you weren’t evaluating any risks, you weren’t trying to find the source of the threats — no, you were too busy trying not to inch closer to your client, trying not to look at his lips, trying not to give in to what you wanted.

“And I’m a distraction?” he looks far too pleased, but a thought seems to sour his smirk, “I thought Suguru was more of one,” and his lips are caught in a slight pout.

“Geto was just keeping me company while you entertained those girls hanging on your every word,” you can’t dull the point to your words, and it replaces his pout with a grin.

“So you were jealous,”

“You’re the one who was jealous — you could have killed Suguru with your glare alone,”

“But you didn’t deny it,” and it makes you stop — why didn’t you deny it?

“I can’t do this,” and you’re pulling away, before flicking off the tv and rising from the couch your phone in hand, turning towards the hallway, “it’s late we should go to bed—“ but he’s catching your wrist again, “Gojo—“

“Satoru,” he corrects, and you hated how gentle his fingers felt around your wrist, “how are you supposed to protect me if you’re too busy running away from me?”

“I’m great at multitasking,” and he’s drawing closer to you, his soft footfalls against the carpet, even as you step away from him, “my job is to protect you, we can’t get distracted—“

“I thought you were so good at multitasking,” he chuckles, his fingers find your wrist again, slipping to intertwine with your own, fingers interlaced, and your phone falls from your fingers and onto the couch, “what I said that night when I was drunk was true — I don’t have a lot of people I trust. People don’t understand. They put me on a pedestal or they don’t want me, they want the concept of me — not the reality,”

“I’m not licensed as a therapist you know,” and he’s sighing.

“Do you always have to deflect with humor? Because if we both do that, we’ll never get through a conversation,” and he squeezes your hand, “which I guess I don’t mind if that means you’ll stay,”

“Satoru—“

“We don’t have to do anything now — we don’t have to do anything at all,” and you can feel his words warming your skin, “but don’t you feel something?”

You hesitate, and you can’t look at him, “No, I don’t,”

“You’re not a very good liar — don’t they teach you that in bodyguard academy?”

You snort, holding your head, “Is that where you imagined I got my training done?”

“Well, you don’t exactly like to share, now do you?” he’s stepping forward again, and you can’t bring yourself to run away anymore.

“I shouldn’t,” and you hear the faint sound of his breath hitching, “but I do,”

You don’t need to look at him to hear the smile on his lips, “so maybe it’s a distraction worth having,”

“But—” and he’s gently turning you to face him, his fingers brushing a stray hair from your face, heat blooming with his touch, “Satoru…”

“Why do you keep saying my name when you know I like hearing it?” he’s teasing, but you’re not shying away from his touch, as his fingers cup your chin now, upwards, so you meet his gaze, “maybe we should have had you pretend to be my girlfriend,”

You chuckle, “Oh I could see that going wrong in so many ways,” and he’s leaning even closer, as he’s left the line you’d drawn far behind, marred it with his touch, and is luring you over to stumble over the edge with him.

“Is this one of them?”

“Probably,” and his lips brush against yours — he tastes sweet, the taste of kettle corn lingers, as his fingers cup your cheek now, and find purchase on his shoulder. It’s brief, a soft press that leaves you far too breathless, as if his touch had taken the air from your lungs, only to leave heat behind, “definitely,”

“Is that a good thing or—” and your lips find his this time, a gasp you swallow with a smirk, and he melts into your touch, eager fingers grasping at the front of his shirt. And he responds in kind, his fingers tracing a path, as they tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before his hand settles on the back of your neck.

His touch set every nerve ending on fire — a desperate wildfire that burned a trail across your mind and body — leaving only the crave of his touch behind, that left you wanting more, needing more.

“Was that good?” you murmur, as you take in your handiwork, his pink lips were bitten red by your kisses, his marble skin a lovely flush, and his gaze far too needy. God, it’s far too easy to get lost in him — pull your anchor from the shore and get lost in his gaze and touch, “god I shouldn’t ask that, we shouldn’t be doing this—” but your body refuses to pull away, and you don’t think by the grasp he has on you, that you’d be able to anyway.

But he only gives you the same answer to each of your statements — he kisses you again, slower and more languid this time, as the two of you walk towards the bedroom, your hands reaching for each other and the walls, as you both stumble into his bedroom.

“We don’t—” he says, between kisses, “I didn’t—”

“I didn’t either, but—” you can’t stop touching him, you don’t want to, despite the logical part of you screaming at you to leave his room, it’s overridden by just how much you want him. He’s frustrating, he’s an idiot, he’s sweet, he’s cute, and he’s a little pathetic — but you liked that in a man. Every sense of logic is screaming at you to stop — but it all turns to white noise “but I don’t want to stop.”

He’s grinning as he pulls you into another kiss, his arms wrapping around his waist, pressing you against him, “That addicted already?” lips parting as he kisses down your neck, pulse jumping under his touch.

“You’re just lucky Geto didn’t get to me first,” and he furrows his brow, before his teeth graze against the juncture of your neck and shoulder, drawing a gasp from your lips, “Satoru, what was that for—”

“So everyone knows you’re mine? Including Suguru,” he’s sucking lightly at the mark, soothing his tongue, “and I’ll make sure he knows,”

“Oh, I trust you’ll be subtle,” and he’s guiding you towards his bed, both of you falling onto it, his knee pressing your legs apart, as he hovers over you, his ocean gaze dark as a storm ridden sea.

“Oh you know me, princess,” and his knee presses against your clothed cunt, rubbing against it teasingly, “subtlety is my specialty,”

“Subtle as a truck,” you murmur, and he’s laughing as he kisses you again, making your lips curl, as his hands slide up your sides, squeezing your hips, “Satoru, please,”

“What’s the fun if I don’t get to tease you?” he’s kissing needy kisses to your neck, as his knee doesn’t relent, grinding lightly against your increasingly wet core, slick leeching through the thin material of your shorts, “gotta make sure you want it right?”

“You treat all the people you bring home this well?” and he’s pausing, lips against your neck, “I didn’t mean anything—”

“You’re the first,” you stare up at him, and he’s hesitant for once when usually he’s always barreling forward, “I’ve never brought anyone here,” and he licks his lips, a deeper flush settling over his porcelain skin, “I’ve never actually—”

And you blink, “Really?”

He huffs, “Is it that surprising—”

“I mean a little, from the way everyone acts around you, and the way you act—”

“Well, ‘act’ is the key word, now isn’t it?” he’s licking his lips as he looks down at you, “it’s easy to act when you know what they expect from you — a role to play,”

“Well, the role’s been filled, so how about you just be yourself for me?” you murmur softly, a featherlight touch as you trace the curve of his jaw, and his lips find his smile under your delicate touch, “so I can ask, is this your first time like you asked me?”

And he’s leaning up to kiss you, your hand resting against his chest, his heartbeat galloping under your touch, “And if I said yes?”

You smile, before flipping him onto his back, his gaze wide as he stares up at you, “Then we better make it memorable.”

“Please, I want to—“ his soft pants left his perfect lips, chest heaving as your fingers curled around his erection, far too hard from just what you had done. You’d stripped yourself and him bare — your inhibitions left far behind — as your lips kissed the tip of his aching cock.

“Lemme make you feel good, Satoru,” you murmur, looking up at him with fluttering eyes, your fingers smearing his pre cum along his length, and he’s pressing his head into the pillow, “s’big, can’t wait to feel you inside me,” you murmur, and you slowly pump him, drawing moan after moan from his lips.

“Won’t last long—can’t—“ he’s biting his lip, his hips thrusting into your touch, before your lips suck at his tip again, and he’s gone, cumming hard all over your face and fingers. God, it never felt that good when he touched himself. Your fingers even brushing against him made him want to cum almost instantly, your soft touch and lips were enough to send him over the edge over and over again.

He’s panting, eyes fluttering open to see you licking your lips clean with your tongue, as you meet his gaze with a grin, slowly sucking on each one of your fingers until you’ve cleaned yourself of his cum.

“Princess, fuck,” he’s lying back on the pillow, as your lips slowly kiss back up his body, your tongue dragging between the fluttering muscles of his stomach and chest.

“Already hard again?” You murmur, a smirk on your lips, “so sensitive for me,”

He’s keening at your words, a whimper leaving his lips. His eyes are blown out in pleasure as he meets your gaze, and you kiss him again, sloppy and messy, as his tongue brushes against yours, your clothed pussy grinding against his erection.

“Please,” he can’t help the words leaving his lips, “I need you,”

“Is this the first time you’ve begged for something?” You tease him, smirk on your lips as your thumb teases one of his nipples, pulling a gasp from his lips, “such a good boy,”

He hissed at your praise, “fuck—“

And you’re grinding against him, he’s already embarrassingly hard, blood rushing back to his cock as if it never left, as it drags against the all too wet fabric of your panties. And every small moan that leaves your lips leaving him needing more, his pre cum mixing with your cum that seeps through your panties, and is the second time he comes with you gonna be just grinding against each other on this bed? But he can’t help it if you keep nibbling at his neck like that, your pretty little pants in his ear, the head of his dick catching on your clit — so fucking good.

“Toru, c-close, ngh, g’nna cum—“ and he’s nodding, forcing his eyes open to watch you cum, your chest shaking, as you hover above him, your eyes squeezed shut and lips parted as you said his name.

“S’good,” he’s grunting, “Cum f’me,” and you both do, the slick and stickiness between your bodies almost unbearable, as you both pant, as you rest your head against his shoulder.

The silence sinks in for a moment, as you kiss his cheek, “we can stop here if you want,” your voice is soft, nose brushing against his neck, “don’t want to make you—“

And he’s flipping you onto your back, his fingers finding the waistband of your shorts, your breath hitching as he drags the material down your legs, and tosses it behind him, “I want this, I want you, and I won’t stop saying it until you believe it,” he leans down, breath warming your breasts through your shirt, before his lips suck at your clothed nipples, making you shiver, “you like that, huh?”

“Shut up,” your cheeks burn, but he’s only tugging your shirt over your head and off, his gaze hot as he drags his eyes down your exposed body, and it makes you squirm, “Satoru — please—“

“Now who’s the one doing the begging?” he leans down to suck on your nipple, while his fingers toy with the other between his thumb and forefinger, “I wanna learn what makes you feel good — wanna make you cum under my touch, wanna taste you,” he switches sides, his teeth grazing the skin of your breast, sucking a mark before soothing it with his tongue, “mine,”

“Satoru, fuck, I want—“ and his fingers trace down your body, making you gasp, he’s kissing down your chest and then your stomach, tongue dipping into your bellybutton, “you fucking—“

“Gotta make you feel good don’t I?” he has a shit eating grin on his lips, as he settles between your thighs, and his fingers press against the growing wet patch on your panties, “though it looks like you’re already feeling good,”

You bite back a whimper, “Are you gonna make me feel good or are you gonna keep talking—“ you moan when his thumb bears down on your needy clit, rubbing it through the nearly translucent fabric of your underwear.

“What was that, sweetheart?” And he’s snapping the waistband of your panties against your skin, “couldn’t hear you,”

“You fucker—“ and he’s kissing your clothed cunt through the wet fabric, nose brushing against your clit, making you nearly shake, as he inhales before he moans.

“So sweet, must taste even sweeter,” he murmurs before tugging your underwear down, before you’re kicking it off, making him chuckle, “so eager,” and you scowl up at him, ineffective from the way lips are parted, “you’re so cute,”

“I’m not cute,” you pout, and he’s laughing, a noise you could drown in, just as you do his eyes.

“You’re very cute, and I’ll tell you as many times as it takes you to believe it,” and his lips press soft kisses to your thighs, “my cute bodyguard, you gonna guard my heart as well as you do my body?”

And before you can reply his breath is warming your soaked cunt, his fingers parting your folds apart, your clit was puffy, your sex slick with your mixed juices, “so pretty, this all just for me?” And you hiss as he holds your outer lips apart, “so this is what your pussy looks like, huh?” And your thighs are twitching, trying to shut, but his palms hold you apart, his heated gaze meeting your shy ones, “you’re perfect, don’t hide from me, you’ve done enough of that,” and he kisses your clit, making you moan, “and I won’t have that anymore,”

“Satoru—“ and his tongue drags over the length of your dripping pussy experimentally, tip of his tongue flicking against your clit, fuck, how can he this good at this? Your toes are already curling as he groans, his fingers sliding under your thighs, and tugging you impossibly closer to his face. Your fingers weave into his white locks, “‘ngh—

“Be a good girl and take it,” he grunts against you, slurping your juices, the sounds of his tongue buried in your cunt, fucking you open, dragging across your walls, “taste s’fucking good, how’d I hold out this long without tasting you?” And your eyes flutter open at his groans, seeing him grind down on the sheets, so fucking horny from eating you out, “g’nna just cum from your taste alone, Princess,” you’re so incredibly soft, so soft, despite your walls being so tough, and it makes only eat you eat you from the inside out.

You’re so close, and all you hear is the sounds of his greedy tongue swallowing you whole, and the sound of your heartbeat and short gasps. Your walls flutter around his tongue, your thighs twitching under his touch, hips jolting forward to meet his touch, his tongue so fucking deep that you can’t see straight, “Toru, please, I’m so close—“

And you feel him groan into your pussy, redoubling his efforts before his fingers find your clit and rub at it while he sucks at your cunt. You cum hard, fingernails digging into his scalp, as your back arches as he eagerly eats you out through your orgasm. The wet squelch of your cunt and his tongue slurping against you, drinking every drop you offer him.

And then finally he’s pulling away with a pop, his chin and mouth dripping with your release and his spit, pink tongue darting out to clean up your cum from his face, wiping off the rest as he looked up at you from white lashed half lidded eyes.

And you can’t even speak, still coming down from your high, as he kisses up your body again, your thighs still shaking from your orgasm, your fingers reaching for his cheek, tracing his jaw, before cupping his cheek.

“How the fuck do you know how to do that well?” And he flashes a pretty smile, as he drags his thumb down your lips.

“I said I was a virgin, I didn’t say I didn’t know how to do some things — and as you know, I’m an excellent student,” and you huff, raising an eyebrow, “and I’m naturally good at everything,”

“And always so humble,” he laughs, before he kisses you again, letting you taste yourself on his sweet lips, and you’re rolling him over onto his back, his erection slick with precum, pressing against your sensitive cunt, “let me make you feel good now,” you murmur, his cock twitching against you, “wanna ride you, Toru, need you in me,”

And he’s hissing, as he moves to sit against the headboard, “You keep talking like that princess, I’m g’nna cum before you even—“ and your fingers are reaching between your bodies, and you’re stroking him, smearing his precum over the length of his shaft, making his hips jerk, “fuck—”

You’re so fucking pretty — your teeth baring down on your bottom lip, as you straddle him, hovering still, his aching tip barely brushing against your dripping cunt, “are you sure?” you murmur, eyes meeting his own, and his lips quirk into a smile.

“Never been more sure of anything,” and you sink onto him, thick length parting your folds, and he groans, as you fit him in your pussy, inch by inch, until your hips are flush. And fuck, he’s never felt anything better — pleasure runs up and down his body, as his hands find their way to your hips.

You’re tense at first, your back slightly arched, and when he shifts under you, a moan is ripped from your lips, as you begin to adjust to his size, “s’big, Toru, gonna make it hard for me to last too, feels too good,” you’re mumbling, and he’s holding his hips taut, making sure not to move — or else, he’s sure he’d cum in one stroke, “g’nna move ok?” and he’s nodding desperately, your walls already fluttering around him — slick and warm, better anything he’d ever felt.

You lift up to the tip, before beginning to rock steadily up and down, as he moans, your sweet cunt swallowing him eagerly, as you began to fuck yourself on his cock. Your chest bounces as you ride him, and he can’t resist leaning forward to take a hardened bud in his mouth, your moan making his cock twitch inside you. And he knows why people become addicted to sex — hell, he knew was an addict for it now, but only with you.

“Fuck, never felt anything this good before, sweetheart, feel s’perfect for me,” he’s grunting, the coil in his stomach growing tighter, as your pace grows more and more sloppy. He wasn’t going to last long, and neither were you from the way you were groaning his name again and again. The wet squelch and smacks of your bodies meeting again and again, only making it harder to hold back, and when he looks to see a white ring of your precum pooling around the base of his dick, he’s nearly gone, “fuck, baby, need you to cum with me,”

“It’s okay, pretty boy, cum for me,” he keens at the praise, but he’s stubborn, as you established, and he won’t cum until you do too — and so he ensures it, reaching between your bodies to rub meanly at your clit before meeting your thrusts with his own.

And his tip brushes against that spot that has your vision blurring and toes curling, “Toru, ngh, I’m—” and you’re cumming hard around him, making him spill his warm and thick seed inside your cunt, and he’s groaning you name as he does, your body slowing as you both come down from your highs, your head resting on his shoulder, as your bodies grow limp, resting, his back pressed to the headboard of his bed.

His fingers trace the curve of your back gently, as he turns his head to press soft kisses to your neck, “Am I still just a distraction?” his lips curled into a smile, and you chuckle, burying your face in his shoulder.

“Definitely,” but you lean back to cup his cheek, and look at his pretty face again, “but one worth having.”

You don’t wake from your alarm the next morning.

Instead, you wake to banging on the door. You both jolt awake, and he’s pulling you into his arms, even as you move to get up, he won’t let go, strong arms around your waist. You’re easing his arms off, trying to be gentle, “Toru, let go, and wait here, your father had a panic room installed in your closet, you hear anything, go inside—”

“No, I’m coming with you,” and you shake your head.

“I’m hired to protect you, not the other way around,” you leave his embrace, and face him, his crystal eyes blurred over with worry, “I can handle this,” you reassure him, your fingers intertwining with his, as you press a kiss to his knuckles, “I promise,”

“But—” and you kiss him gently, silencing his protests, before you slip away into the hallway.

You enter the living room, shutting the bedroom door without a sound, stalking through the hall, as you grab a knife and pepper spray from the chest of drawers that was pressed to the wall of the hallway — you had several self defense tools hidden all over the apartment. Your heartbeat thunders in your ear, mouth dry, as you approach the door from the side.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Mr. Gojo, open this door,” and you sigh, relaxing, as you check and unlock the door for him.

Shinsaku Gojo was only a man you were able to meet once before your work for him began. And it was a privilege even to see him then. His schedule was always packed — multiple meetings, multiple clients, and multiple women, all vying for his attention. Even as you spoke with him the first time, his eyes were on his phone the entire time, except when he had warned you, not to let anything distract you from protecting his son.

And you had done just that — and even worse, his son had done the distracting, “Mr—”

“Where’s my son? He hasn’t answered his phone all morning, and neither have you—didn’t you hear from your agency?” his voice is raising, as he dials your number again, and your phone vibrates on the couch. He scoffs, disconnecting the call, as his hard gaze turned back to you, “what if there was a threat? You left your phone—”

“Dad,” Satoru emerges from the room, his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, “it’s not her fault, she forgot it last night when we were watching a movie,”

“Watching a movie?” he sneers, his cerulean gaze the same as son, but without any of the warmth Satoru had — an icy tundra compared to a warm pool, “she should be watching you, that’s her job—”

“She was watching me — something you never bothered to do,” and his father’s eyes narrow, “she’s shown more concern for me than you ever had — and she only met me a few weeks ago. What’s your excuse for being a pathetic piece of—“

“Satoru,” your fingers brush his shoulder, shaking your head, “sir, I take responsibility for this lapse of judgment. Don’t blame your son,”

Satoru lowers his voice, “it’s not your fault—“

“It is. I disregarded by duty to protect you,” your cheeks burn with shame — “what if i had missed an alert you were in danger? What if I failed to protect you because I wasn’t focused? What if—“

“Nothing happened,” he says softly, and the twitch of his fingers tells you he’s gonna reach for you, but you step forward, shaking your head.

“Nothing did,” and you turn to his father, “I’ll protect Satoru until you can find a suitable replacement for me. But I compromised my mission to protect him. I would like to resign as soon as possible,”

“No! I—“

“Agreed,” his father says, “I’ll have your replacement here in an hour, make sure you’re packed up by then,” and his father leaves without another word.

You brush past him to gather your things, but he’s caught you by the wrist, “Why did you do—“

“Gojo,” and you can’t bear to see the hurt in his eyes, “I can’t let my feelings get in the way of keeping you safe—“

“I don’t care—“ you cut him off.

“I do, I couldn’t stand if something happened to you because of me. What it was an emergency last night and you got hurt because of my own carelessness—“

“It wasn’t careless what happened last night—“

“It was,” you say, walking to your room, “and it won’t happen again.”

You left. You had expected a fight, an argument, a dramatic show of tears — but nothing. Satoru hadn’t even opened his door to watch you leave. The other bodyguard arrived quickly, and you left the penthouse and didn’t look back.

It was for the best.

You had a duty, a role to play, and more than that, you couldn’t let him get hurt because of your inability to compartmentalize. Even so, Satoru’s father was kind enough not to have told your father what happened — or you supposed it was pity in exchange for your quick and easy resignation.

Fuck. Why were you still thinking about this? You rolled over in bed, burying your head under your comforter. A week out, and you still couldn’t stop worrying about Satoru, about his safety, about the hurt on his face, about that night…

You had fucked everything up, and fucked Satoru up in the aftermath.

You poke your head out, and stare at your phone on your bedside table — 7:45 PM, no new messages — you had written out six different messages to him again and again, before deleting them. You wondered how many more you’d write before you finally would rid your mind of him.

Would you ever rid your mind of him?

And that’s when your phone rings. But it’s not flashing Satoru’s number — it’s his father. You scramble for the phone — why was he calling? And you can only think of one reason. You can’t say a single word when you pick up — his father already hissing his first question.

“Where is he?” your words are lodged in your throat, stuck on your heart that had leapt from your chest.

“What?”

“Where’s Satoru? He came to you didn’t he?” he growls, and you hear a slam, assumedly his fist against his desk, “he shook off his new bodyguard, and his phone is off,”

“He hasn’t — I haven’t talked to him since I left—” your mind is running a mile a minute, racking your brain, placing the call on speakerphone, as you text Satoru, where are you? “Where did the bodyguard see him last?”

“He had him at the dorms, he said he was going to see a friend, and then gave him the slip,” his father groans, “you hear anything from him, otherwise—”

“I’ll let you know,” you cut him off at the threats — you had more important things to do. You checked your messages, but your messages hadn’t gone through, and you tried calling him — but it went straight to voicemail. Satoru was upset — he could’ve blocked you or turned off his phone to piss off his father, but you didn’t see him doing that. He was an idiot, but he knew his father would lose his shit.

And then you remembered. The tracker you placed on Satoru — you never took it off. You had sewed it into the insole of his daily shoes (the man had far too many clothes and shoes, but he rarely found the energy to not wear anything besides the shoes he always wore).

You turned it on, biting your lip as you watched the tracker loaded, and his location popped up — and it wasn’t at his apartment.

It was in Shibuya — you typed in the address and he was at a house.

You furrow your brow, who did he know who lived in Shibuya? And then it clicked.

Fuck.

Those girls.

Satoru groaned, fuck, why is his head hurting so badly?

It wasn’t exactly unusual the last few days. He hadn’t been sleeping much since you left, he spent most of his nights watching TV and rotting in his bed. But everything reminded him of you — his bed, his couch, and even the shows he watched (he had continued one of the shows you both had started one late night).

His apartment was a disaster — a mess of empty soda cans, empty wrappers of candy and old takeout containers. But he couldn’t be bothered with it — to clean it up or call someone to clean it up. His bodyguard had taken up residence in your room — or rather the guest room — and hardly emerged, keeping an eye on him through cameras his father had installed around the doors and hallway.

Not that he really needed to, Satoru rarely left his apartment, even had skipped classes for a week — sending an email that he had a very contagious illness and that he’d be happy to attend class if necessary. They sent him materials to work on classwork from home, piled untouched on his kitchen counter, with a possible smudge from the hot fudge he had last night.

He had made progress — instead of staying in bed, he moved onto the couch for his afternoon nap, and he had just fallen asleep when there was a banging on his door. He groaned into the couch pillow he had just gotten comfortable on, before pulling it onto his head, trying to block out the sounds of the knocking.

“Satoru! Open up,” he hears Suguru’s voice through the door, “open the fucking door, I know you’re not sick,”

He pulls himself up, groaning, as he wipes the small amount of drool from his lips, as he meanders to the door, throwing it open.

“You look like shit,” Suguru says, brushing past him to enter.

“No ‘hello, you look like shit?’” He mumbles, still rubbing his eyes, “what are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you that,” he stands, hands in his pockets, as he takes in the mess with a wrinkled nose, “although I see you’ve decided to redecorate,”

“Hilarious,” Satoru replies, lying back on the couch, “did you come here just to hassle me?”

“I’d be lying if I didn’t say that wasn’t part of it, but the other was to see if you’re ready to pick yourself back up after your breakup—“

“It wasn’t a breakup,” Satoru snaps.

“If it wasn’t, then why does it look like you haven’t showered in several days since she left?” Suguru raises an eyebrow, and Satoru scowls.

“I’m sick,” he turns away to face the couch, “I don’t have the energy to shower,”

“But you have the energy to eat about half a dozen mochi doughnuts?” Suguru holds up an empty doughnut box, and Satoru holds a couch pillow to his chest, “Satoru, come on, it isn’t like you to wallow like this,”

“I’m not wallowing—“

“Yeah, yeah, you’re sick, right?” Suguru says sarcastically. Satoru doesn’t need to look at his best friend to know he’s rolling his eyes, “well you don’t seem like you’re sneezing or coughing so go take a shower or something,” Satoru gives a weak fake cough, and he could feel Suguru’s glare, “fine, rot in bed, but you have to get up sometime, just text me when you’re ready to,”

And Satoru hears Suguru’s footsteps recede to the door, swinging shut with a click behind him. He buries his face in the pillow. It wasn’t a break up. How could it be when you didn’t even have a relationship to begin with? You had made that clear enough when you left without another word to him. He didn’t leave his room until he heard the door shut behind you, and he made his way out to watch you leave out the front door of the apartment. And you didn’t even look back. But you weren’t the type to.

He felt like he was always looking back — one way or another.

And even now, as he came to — he was trying to remember what he had done after Suguru left. Someone else had shown up — knocked at his door. Offered to get him out of the house — offered him free alcohol and a distraction.

And he had agreed — if only to forget about you for a moment. Drinking was the only thing that made him forget — if he only could somehow forget how terrible alcohol tasted.

His head spun, so was this a hangover? It’s certainly worse than the one he had before — the last one felt like his brain was fuzzy and nausea clawed at his stomach — this time, it felt more akin to someone taking a blender to both of those organs. And his neck, he stretched it both ways. How had he fallen asleep?

And then he tried to lift up his hand to rub his eyes, and he couldn't, wrist straining against something — his brow furrowed, what was arm caught on — and his eyes fluttered open. It was dark — the only light came from another room, peeking through the crack at the bottom of, what he assumed was, a door. And then as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he looked at his arms.

Ropes. Twisted around both his arms, binding his wrists and forearms to the arms of a chair, and his vision blurs — what? His legs jerk instinctively, but ropes dig into the flesh of his ankles, and he glanced down only to find what he expected.

“You’re awake,” the light flicks on, he lifts his head, blinking away the fog in his head and the burning tears slipping from his eyes, “didn’t realize the drug would knock you out for that long,”

He blinks again and again, light flooding his eyes, until he can see and sees a familiar face — “Misaki?” the light sends a piercing jolt through his head, “or is it Yumiko?”

“Well that’s flattering, you can’t even remember my name?” she sighs, crossing her arms, “well I unfortunately don’t have the same luxury,” and then she adds with a quirk of her lips, “it is Yumiko,” and she steps forward, as his eyes squeeze shut, his head still banging, “sorry what I gave you to knock you out can cause some light sensitivity,”

It’s slowly sinking in, “I don’t know what kind of weird kink you have, but I’m not interested,” and she scoffs, pressing her knuckles to her chin, “where am I?”

“Do you think I’m really going to tell you that?” she raises an eyebrow, “I did send you threats after all, you don’t think I’d be that stupid to tell you where I am,”

He needed to buy time, he needed to find a way to get out of here, and to do that, he needed time, “What? Are you obsessed with me or something? Do you want my body?”

“I’m going to stop your overinflated ego there,” she sighs, leaning against a table that was behind her, “I have a debt to pay and you’re the price,”

“Debt?” he repeats, “is this where you explain your whole plan? And villain speech? Because I usually I could care less, but I’m feeling a little generous with my time, as I’m a little tied up at the moment, so—”

“Do you ever shut up?”

“It’s known to happen on occasion,” she rubs her temples, and then something occurs to him, “how did you get my address? You showed up and invited me,”

She shakes his head, “You think I couldn’t find out your address after sending you threats?” and she sighs, “You know this is why I tried to do this at the first party — get it over with so I wouldn’t have to deal with this. But then you crushed your beer cup, your little girlfriend got in the way, and that idiot Misaki accidentally switched her shot glass with yours, so I couldn’t get you dosed,” she grits her teeth, “and then the rest of the semester, your girlfriend was up your ass the entire time — but she wasn’t your girlfriend was she? She was your bodyguard,” he says nothing, “you don’t need to confirm it for me, I already found her information, her name, her address—”

“What do you want? Money? My father will pay anything to get me back. Tell me who you need to repay and he’ll do it,” and her lips curl.

“So serious now — and so cooperative, maybe I should have kidnapped her too while I was at it,” she shrugs, while she grabs her phone from the table — a burner — “my father will be here to escort you to where you need to go. The yakuza will take it from there,” his blood runs cold, “Don’t cause a fuss and i can promise your girlfriend will stay safe,”

He grits his teeth — he was so stupid. This was exactly the kind of shit you were trying to protect him from. And it was the thing he landed himself in the moment you left. But he didn’t care — because it was better this way, because you were safe this way.

“Wow, you’re pretty cute when you’re all quiet,” and she’s walking over, and he’s flinching as she drags a manicured nail down his cheek, before tilting it up, “it’s just that mouth that’s a problem,” and her thumb brushes down his lips, “don’t bite, or we might have a problem,”

And he doesn’t, but then he smiles back, “you might like it when I bite,” he smirks, “why don’t you come here and find out?” And she raises her eyebrows, leaning closer, and he smashes his forehead into hers, “fuck off,”

She stumbles back, losing her balance, and leaning against the table as she clutches at her forehead. Satoru watches her, trying to wriggle out of his constraints, rope chafing against his skin, red welts rising on his skin, but he only manages to get one hand free before she’s starting to get her bearings, and then he’s trying to free himself, his chair tipping over. And now he’s lying helplessly as she stumbles forward over to him, clutching a knife she grabbed off the table.

“I have to hand you over to the yakuza, but they didn’t say you had to be completely unharmed,” she presses the tip of the knife to his cheek, “maybe we’ll do something to that pretty face of yours,” he grits his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut.

CRACK.

He hears a body slump over, and the clatter of the knife against the cement floor, and his eyes open to find you kneeling beside him. He’s blinking, murmuring your name, “What are you—”

“Well I never did remove that tracker did I?” You’re cutting the ropes on his wrists and ankles with the knife, “and I’m lucky you wear the same damn shoes everyday,”

“Why did you come for me?” he says, as you finally free him his restraints, your fingers gentle as they examine the welts and bruises left on his skin, “you could have just told my father where I was or the police,”

“I could’ve. I saw where you were and I figured it out—“ and your voice wavers, “but all I could think was that I wanted to find you. And I didn’t wanna wait for anyone else. I didn’t want something to happen just because someone else was too slow,” the lump in your throat grows only larger, as you sit, “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you,”

“Why?” he asks softly, his fingers brush against your cheek, and he knows why — he does, but he needs to hear it.

“Because I just want…to be the one to protect you,” you admit, tears burning at your eyes, as your thumb traces over his rope burns and bruises, “I wish that I could have,”

“You did a pretty good job, considering I almost was about to get my face cut up,” and he gently wipes your tears away, “imagine what a tragedy that would be,”

You give a watery chuckle, cupping his cheeks, “I’m sorry,” and he opens his mouth, “no i really am. I shouldn’t have slept with you, only to cut and run after. I thought…I thought I was doing you a favor,”

“How?” And you sigh, blinking away your tears.

“I put your life in danger by doing that. I couldn’t do that. I knew the only way you’d let me go is…if I lied to you and said I didn’t care about you,” you bite your bottom lip, “and I’m sorry because I only hurt you more in the end,”

He kisses your lips gently, chastely, his breath warming your lips as he parts from them, “you did,” and you scoff, pushing him playfully, “but as long as you promise not to do it again, I think I can find it in my incredibly generous heart to forgive you,”

You kiss him again, softly, your fingers sliding to the back his neck, into his undercut, “I promise,” and he grins, before leaning back to kiss you again, when a cough behind you catches your attention.

“My father will be getting here shortly you idiots, while you gaze fucking stupidly into each other’s eyes,” she sneers, and you raise an eyebrow.

“You think I’d come here without calling the police? They already have picked up your father — and they should be almost here—“ and the sounds of an ambulance and police sirens come into earshot.

“Good timing,” Satoru mutters, as Yumiko tries and fails to stumble to her feet, and you get up and pin her to the ground. Satoru raises an eyebrow, and watches, as you glance back at him, tilting your head in question, “nothing, it’s just…hot to see you in action,”

You laugh, “Did she hit your head too?” And he shrugs, as he gets onto this feet with shaky legs, “Satoru—“

And he sits next to you, leaning on your shoulder, “just let me rest here for a minute,” he mumbles.

For the first time since you left, Satoru felt like he could finally rest.

And Satoru did rest, he realized as he blinked awake to the ambient sounds of the hospital room, the distinct beep of the heartbeat monitor, the dim light of the moon filtering through the shades, and the distant sounds of people walking through the hall. He hears the sounds of sheets rustling, and his gaze snaps over to his left.

His gaze softens. You were fast asleep beside him, your arms tucked under your head, your breaths were soft, as they were the night you two had spent together. He sat himself up — fingers running through your hair gently. You had fallen asleep before him that night, face buried in the crook of his neck, and your legs entangled with his. And now you slept beside him on a chair, leaning on his bedside.

His fingers carded through your hair again, and you stirred, as he swore under his breath, your eyes fluttered open, “Toru?” you mumbled, still half asleep, and he hummed.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he sighed softly, “why are you sleeping here? You should have gone home,” you sit up, stretching, as you furrow your brow, eyes scanning him for any sign of an injury or distress.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay — you were unconscious, but no concussion thankfully. I tried to wake you up but you wouldn’t wake,” you sigh, words tumbling out almost faster than you can think of them, “they mostly kept you for observation, but are you feeling okay? Should I get the nurse—“

And he’s pulling you into a hug, arms wrapping around you, as he sighs, burying his face in your neck, “I just want to stay like this for a while,” he murmurs, “I got everything I need right here, got it?” He feels you nod, and he feels the hint of your tears on his skin, but says nothing, only his lips quirk, “you did mean your promise?”

“I did, I won’t leave like that again,” and he’s leaning back, head tilted, and you chuckle, “I mean I won’t leave you at all, how’s that?”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, leaning closer, and his heart squeezes when he hears your breath hitch as he does. His eyes flicker to your lips and back, “can I kiss—“

But you kiss him first, softly, your fingers brushing his cheek, and god, why was it that a single touch from you melted him away to nothing? Whittled his world view to a pin where all he could feel, all he could see, was you.

And then you kiss his cheeks, his chin, his jaw, and then your teeth graze the soft part of his neck, drawing a pretty gasp from his lips, as you suck lightly on his skin.

He’s whispering your name, breath sucked from his lungs as if your teeth had pierced through his throat instead of just his skin, “what was that for?”

And you smile, “so everyone knows you’re mine.”

“You’re changing your major?” Suguru raises his eyebrow, as he lounges on Satoru’s couch, holding his head up with his elbow propped against the top of the couch, “your father must’ve been thrilled about that,”

“He lost his shit, but that geezer can fuck off,” Satoru shrugs, “he threatened to not pay my tuition, but once I threatened to go public with his dealings with the yakuza, he saw it my way,”

Suguru tilts his head, “His what?”

You bring over tea from the kitchen, placing it on the table, “After what Satoru found out from Yumiko and her father, their debt to the yakuza would have been paid off by kidnapping one of Satoru’s father’s close relatives, but I was wondering why was the yakuza so eager to do so?”

“Apparently my old man had the brilliant idea of entertaining the yakuza on some deal he was making,” Satoru explains, leaning back on the couch, as you sit against his legs, “and when he backed out, the yakuza wanted to push it through anyway — and well, thus their blackmail of Yumiko’s father, once they found out his daughter went to school with me.”

“Yeah, turns out her father had gambling debts owed to the yakuza,” you sighed, “she got caught in the crossfire — I almost feel bad,”

“Speak for yourself, she drugged me, tied me to a chair, and held a knife to my face,” Satoru scoffs, sipping his tea that he had you drown in sugar.

“Well you didn’t complain when I did that last night,” you reply, making both Satoru and Suguru choke, and you laughed, squealing when Satoru lifts you into his lap to bury his face into your back.

“You two are officially sickening to be around,” Suguru grimaces, still coughing from choking down his tea, “I think I liked it better when he was wasting away in his apartment,”

“You wasted away after I left?” You turn to look at Satoru, who shoots a glare at Suguru, “sorry Geto, that’s not happening again,” and Satoru softens his gaze, pressing a kiss to your head.

“Alright, that’s it, I’m leaving,” Suguru gets to his feet, as he glances back at you two, “don’t rush to get up, I’ll see myself out,” he rolls his eyes.

“Don’t worry we weren’t going to,” Satoru pulls you closer, and Suguru narrows his eyes, before his lips curl into a grin.

“Just for that, I’m sending your girlfriend a picture of the mess you looked like when she left,” Satoru gapes at him, while you bite back a laugh.

“Suguru!” Satoru calls, but the door’s shut, and you’re starting to giggle. He’s pouting now, “so my girlfriend thinks it's funny to see me in the pathetic state she left me in?”

“Oh your girlfriend finds it very funny, and she might even make it her boyfriend’s contact picture,” you smirk, and he’s biting back a smile, “What?”

“This is just the first time we called each other that,” he mumbles, a slight dusting of pink on his cheeks, “it’s nice,” he admits.

“Well, I am yours, aren’t I?” you smile, and he presses a kiss to your lips, as he would again and again.

“My one and only.”

✧ a/n: so this fic was so freaking long. i'm sorry it took so long to post this - i got a little sidetracked by prof geto haha. but i'm hoping to start on the next one soon :). i think i'll put a poll up on which one i should write next! edit: forgot to tag the people who requested this, its now added in T_T

✧ taglist: @teatreeoilll, @intrxspectiv, @marvel-fanaticz, @ilovemybabes, @lwustyz, @jayathelostdragon, @vampzys, @sleazymac-n-cheesy, @soilmayo, @iwassentfromhell, @lobotomy-kaisen, @gojoallmine, @forest-hashira, @h3artpiecexx, @lailarratx, @gummibat, @hanlay, @ilovewoo9, @nvmlolo, @h6avenly, @eriyvesa, @alexandraioann4, @eclipsephase, @sokkasmoon, @aizzon, @makotome9, @daddytojji, @fluffy-pancakes01, @imjustmememe, @spookyy-gracee, @forest-fruits-jam, @that-goth-bisexual, @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @lookinreality,

#sab [mlist]#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo x you #gojo x reader smut #satoru gojo fanfiction #jjk x reader #jjk fanfiction #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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