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strawberrystepmom · 6 months

Text

the one

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader

word count: 10k

about: in the aftermath of incredible loss and pain and nearly losing satoru himself, a week long road trip on one of the most famous routes in the world solidifies what you've already known to be true about gojo - he is the one for you & you for him.

contents: nsfw - mdni. established relationship (reader and gojo are engaged), story told through vignettes, major spoilers for ch 220 and beyond although the story is not canon compliant (gojo dies and is revived), major character deaths and discussion of them, descriptions of anxiety, panic attacks, and dealing with trauma, discussions about marriage and engagement, mentions of blood and injury.

gojo has an identity crisis, reader is a teacher and is appointed interim principal of the Tokyo campus, lots of flowery descriptions of nature and of my beloved california (i am not a california girl but i have longed my whole life 2 be one), gojo is referred to as husband, sweetheart, and baby, reader is referred to as wife, angel, pretty, and baby, reader has breasts, small smut scene with sensual and romantic unprotected piv sex, mutual body worship, vaginal fingering, creampie.

notes: if you have made it to this point and still want to read, thank you. this is a love letter spritzed with parfums de marly delina sent directly to gojo satoru from me and i'm very proud of this work.

he's so important to me and i think exploring him when he can't hide behind the veneer of being strong anymore is one of the most worthwhile uses of my time since ever. i hope that you enjoy ♡

wavy divider thanks to @/cafekitsune!!!!

One week.

One measly, little week - 168 hours or seven unique opportunities to see the sun rise and set - is all you’re asking to be granted while promising all but your limbs and hypothetical first born child to the acting principal of both the Kyoto and Tokyo campuses following the deaths of both Yaga and Gakuganji.

Utahime’s arms are folded over her chest and her mouth is set in a firm line while taking everything that has happened over the last month into consideration. Do you guys even have time for a break of any kind?

Time, as you and her have both learned since that fateful night in Shibuya, becomes more difficult to quantify when you feel it’s slipping away. Every day since October 31st has felt like something each of you have had to earn rather than been given by sheer act of existence. It has been a fight since the moment each of you stepped foot into the railway station and now that it’s over, things feel so undefined.

What comes next now that the immediate evil is gone? There will always be another threat of danger that appears as soon as one is eliminated and all that’s left of the sorcery community learned the hard way that sometimes that evil proves difficult without the man who has worked tirelessly to keep all of you safe around.

“Please. He needs this so badly and I know if I don’t force him to stop, he won’t.”

Your plea causes her gaze to shift from downward to your face and Utahime’s distaste for the man in question all but disappears when she looks over the concerned furrow of your brow and the dark circles under your eyes. She watched Gojo being whisked away to return to the Tokyo campus, the place where the two of you are sitting and having this discussion, ripped to all but bits but still throwing his thumb up to confirm he’s okay to everyone’s mixed annoyance and amusement.

Contemplating every aspect of the situation for a moment, she comes to the conclusion that this week is something both of you need and there’s no viable way for her to tell you no. Not when you look so desperate, hands shaking and eyes sunken.

Despite the mess you will be leaving behind, building debris and rubble the mere surface of the ripples caused in your small community and wider society by Satoru’s defeat of Kenjaku and Sukuna both within days of each other, she feels there’s no other option but to reluctantly give in.

“Okay.”

The tone of her voice is so tentative you’re expecting a but as her very next word but she shuts her mouth with finality written across her face. Grateful, you bow your head and blink back tears but she walks toward you and grabs one of your hands. She squeezes it gently, reminding herself to avoid the spots you broke it in 7 weeks ago and you find the sudden change in her demeanor concerning.

Did she change her mind? Is he going to have to go from half dead on a cold metal table right back into the swing of things?

“When you get back, be ready because you’re in charge here.”

The news comes as a shock and she can tell, your eyes widening and hollowing further. Bile rises in your throat and you swallow, blinking additional tears back, ashamed that your weakness is what represents the strongest individuals you’ve ever met and not just the one who your heart belongs to.

Iori doesn’t stick around for long to watch you come to terms with your new position, simply squeezing your hand and patting it with the back of her other one, before dropping it to slink off to her students that stand on the opposite side of the lounge everyone is occupying.

Shutting your eyes tightly, you use the time to balance yourself and remember that you can deal with the upcoming challenges when you return. What’s most important is the here and now and there are a few things you’re currently sure of.

First, Satoru is alive and breathing despite the terror you experienced when he was not. Second, you have at least one week to contemplate your own future and in true procrastinator form, you will wait until the last minute to even begin processing the weight of the responsibilities that have been placed on your shoulders.

“He’s asking for you.”

Shoko’s approach is stealthy and you don’t notice her until she’s pulling a glove off beside you, the snap of the latex making you forget the tidy little list you were creating in your head. She doesn’t look any more morose than usual and you take it as a good sign, awkwardly nodding and keeping your head pointed toward the ground to avoid prying eyes.

It’s not like everyone doesn’t already know about the two of you but there’s no plausible deniability anymore. No coy smiles and playing it off like it’s no big deal, not when there’s an engagement ring nestled safely in its box on your nightstand at home and when he’s asking for you as soon as he wakes up.

The room is eerily silent as you shuffle out of it beside one of your oldest friends and this is where she finally drapes an arm around your shoulder, stopping you and crowding you off to the side of the hallway.

“He doesn’t look like himself right now,” she warns and you nod. You expected it, his energy depleted by the time both battles were won, but you still swallow thickly and struggle to get the lump in your throat down. Once she’s certain you are okay, she nods and keeps her arm around your shoulder until you reach the metal door to her domain that separates you and the love of your life.

“I’m going to give you two some privacy but if you need me you know where I’ll be.”

You’re sure she’s grateful for the reprieve, catching sight of her puffy eyes as she turns to walk away. You stop her and she smiles wordlessly, friends for long enough that the two of you know what the other is thinking.

Thank you, I know, I’m glad he’s okay too.

Pushing the door open you hear an exaggerated groan and a watery giggle bubbles out of you. He just can’t help himself, one arm wrapped securely and safely and the other still oozing through its bandages. His torso is exposed and you can see the blow that killed him firsthand, an unnaturally precise cut across his lower abdomen.

This is the sight that chokes you up and he chuckles weakly, unable to lift his head more than a few inches. He does look different, covered in scrapes and cuts and blood of uncertain origin, but he’s still himself. Those dimples still stick out against his pale skin when he smiles weakly at you and despite its pinkish hue, his white hair sticks up on end like it always does.

“No crying, baby.”

Sniffling, you look toward the cold tiles below and he tuts from the operating table. Holding his cleanly wrapped arm up he curls a finger toward himself to beckon you over.

“C‘mere.”

Slowly, you do. Each footstep feels as though you’re walking across cracking ice and it makes you cautious, scared that you’ve deluded yourself into believing that he’s here and he’s fine and things are going to be okay and in the midst of the angst, suddenly you remember - he is.

He’s in front of you and breathing and you can’t stop the tears from falling when you reach the edge of the table, reaching to cup his face in your palms like you always do.

“Don’t ever do that to me again.”

Another weak chuckle and he wraps his hand around one of your wrists, delicately holding it with his thumb and index finger.

“Didn’t you say that about the prison realm too?”

Nodding and sniffling, you smile and he smiles back. It’s warm and inviting and all you can think about is how you feared you’d never see it again; that he’d become another loss forcing you to grow colder and colder until the inevitability of becoming a husk like the other sorcerers in your life would come true.

“Yeah, I guess I did. Maybe I need some new material.”

A chuckle that turns into a wince makes you coo and his half smile instantly turns smug, one corner of his mouth upturned into a smirk.

“I have always been the funny one, haven’t I?”

Scoffing, you don’t playfully swat at him like you always do and he misses it. The gentle swipe of your fingers across his pec or shoulder or arm to let him know he has entertained you is something he will not take for granted from this day forward. His chest tightens and his loose grip around your wrist tightens.

It hasn’t registered quite yet that he almost never saw you again twice. That realization will come painfully when he’s struggling to sleep some night, wrapping himself around your body to be certain you will never leave his side, as all of his realizations about his own mortality do.

Until then he’ll embrace the reality in front of him.

“I’m so happy to see you,” he whispers and you see a shadow of sadness cross his face, smirk drooping into a frown. Your palms on his skin leech warmth into his tired bones and he shifts his head to lean into one of your hands, eyes fluttering shut and staying that way until he musters enough humility to say what he wants to say to you the most.

“I’m sorry.”

It’s still the coward's way out but he’s simply too tired and weakened to go into the specifics of everything he’s sorry for. Is strength even worth it if you still managed to save so few people you care about? The weight of the world remains on his shoulders and you carefully lean over him, pressing your cheek to his and shifting your hands from his face to his shoulders.

“Oh sweetheart,” it’s a nickname you rarely use for him and it makes his heart leap to hear it even when your voice cracks. “You have nothing to apologize for. Never to me.”

He wishes he agreed with you.

“Well, I am and nothing like this will ever happen again.”

The unspoken truth between both of you is that he said the same thing when he was released from the prison realm weeks ago and yet, this happened.

“You can’t control everything, Satoru.” You lift your cheek from his and glance down at him to see his eyes half open. “Nothing that has happened is your fault.”

Something else he wishes he could agree with. He gives you a small smile and you lean to kiss his cheek, shutting your eyes tightly to keep from breaking into absolute hysterics. You’ve been teetering on the edge for days but you know this is not the time for your usual dramatics, it’s time to hold it together for him like he has done for you so many times.

“But we can and should talk about this more on our trip.”

His half open eyes shoot open and he looks at you with uncertainty etched in all of his pretty features.

“Trip?”

Currently, he’s in no condition to go anywhere except for hopefully home with you tonight, but a few more hours with Shoko and his cursed energy slowly returning should be enough to get the process of healing going but he knows you know that and wonders what your angle is.

“Road trip. Very little impact, all we have to do is fly to California and don’t worry, I’ll drive the whole time.”

He smiles and chuckles, reaching to capture your hand in his own and lift your palm to his mouth. Kissing you gently, he sits up a little more now that he’s feeling stronger and you lean on the side of the table.

“How long?”

“I had to practically beg for it but we both have a whole week off. The road trip will be 5 days and we’ll have two days to travel there and back.”

Summarizing the trip aloud makes it feel real despite you having done no work to make it so, eager to see him and how he’s doing before making any solid plans, but you can tell that he’s interested based solely by the look on his face. Still, you worry it’s too soon and too much after everything that has happened.

“Do you want to? We can always hold off and do it another time if you don’t feel up to it.”

He shakes his head and kisses your palm again, molding your fingers to the curve of his face so that he can be held by you for just a little while. Your touch may not heal him physically but it fills the gaps in his soul, the little pieces he has been torn into since October 31st, and he needs it more than he needs another session of energy granted to him from Shoko right now.

“I want to go as soon as we can. Especially if I get to look pretty in the passenger seat the entire time.”

It’s so beautiful to have him come back to you a bit at a time and your heart swells until you’re afraid it’ll burst when you look down at him. His eyes are shut again and his cheek fits perfectly in your palm, just as it always does.

He lived and now he gets to have a week by your side with no responsibilities. If he weren’t so comforted by your presence right now, certain you are real and tangible and holding him to the best of your ability in his current condition, he would believe that he’s still dead.

“I should let Shoko get back to work,” you say finally and he whines. A little bit more of him comes back with each passing moment and emotion swells again, your eyes burning when they start to well up.

“I love you,” he whispers and you lean down to kiss him for real, your soft lips hungrily pressing against his dry and split ones for the first time since he left you and came back. It’s familiar and it sends you over the edge, tears breeching your closed eyes and dripping onto his cheek. He laughs, although it’s a bit hollow, and you back your face away from his.

“I told you no crying.”

You laugh and lean in to steal another kiss, his arm wrapping around your body and cupping your hip. The kiss grows in intensity, although it’s more a lazy exploration of each other’s mouths more than it is an earnest makeout session, and his hand slides from your hip to your ass just as the metal door screeches open.

“Save that for when I send him home with you tonight.”

Heels clack across the tile floor and you peel yourself away from Satoru, who keeps his hand firmly cupping your ass, turning your head to see Shoko snapping on a pair of gloves and walking toward her patient. You shoot her a grateful smile and she nods her head, letting you lean in for one more kiss before reluctantly parting.

“Man I love her,” you hear him mutter to Shoko who laughs and shakes her head as you’re leaving.

“Yeah, I know. You never shut up about it even when you’re half dead.”

DAY 1 - SAN FRANCISCO, CA

Your flight landed three hours ago, 9 hours passing far more quickly than you expected. Satoru held your hand the entire flight and you let him have the window seat, watching clouds obscure the light dancing over his face every time he'd shift his gaze toward the sky outside. Looking at him never gets old, even with a baseball cap pulled over his face to obscure his injuries despite how much they’ve improved since days ago.

Disembarking and entering the airport felt like going through the motions and you realized while grabbing your luggage that it has felt like that all day. It feels like just going through the motions despite everything and your excitement for the next several days and guilt gnaws at you because of it. Shouldn’t you be living every day, minute, second as joyfully as possible given Satoru is alive and with you? Why do you still feel so bad?

The feeling remains a mystery while the two of you gradually make your way out of the airport and into the cool city lying outside, your rental car already picked up and the keys jingling in your hand as you unlock the door to load everything up. Gojo takes the duties over for you and you smile at him gratefully, heading to the driver’s seat to get settled in.

“You alright?”

He has asked you many times today how you’re doing and your answer has been a polite nod and a smile each time, maybe a muttered “yeah I’m alright” if he’s lucky, but he can tell something is bothering you. Chalking it up to travel anxiety, he slides into the passenger seat and finally takes his hat off, chucking it aside. You watch his wispy hair fall over his face, the dark bruise on his cheekbone finally looking lighter than it did when you left Tokyo this morning and you genuinely smile for the first time all day.

“Hello handsome.”

Satoru chuckles and you laugh along with him, eyes crinkling at the corners. You aren’t sure if it’s exhausted delirium making you feel better but you allow yourself to feel at ease for the first time in weeks, settling into your seat and starting the engine of the mid size SUV that will be your chariot for the next several days.

“Do you wanna go straight to the hotel or did you want to stop somewhere first?”

He hums, thinking, and his stomach growls which gives him his answer.

“Let’s stop and get something to eat.”

You nod, tipping your head toward his phone.

“Your pick. Find a place and I’ll get us there.”

Picking the device up, he smiles at the sight of your face next to his on the screen, matching grins as big as your faces. Hopefully there will be opportunities for more photos just like that one on this trip despite how worn both of you feel right now.

Even smiling sounds exhausting at this point but he musters one for you, opening the app with a little map as its logo, searching for restaurants near the airport. He wrinkles his nose at the list of chain restaurants and settles on a deli that looks easy to get in and out of, disinterested in a sit down meal.

He turns the phone in your direction.

“Sounds good?”

You hum affirmatively and press on the screen, a digital voice through the speaker giving you turn by turn directions. You’ve visited San Francisco before and so has he, just not together, and the two of you smile contentedly watching the city roll by and you’ve arrived before you know it, parking on the sidewalk outside of the entrance. He grabs the cap he dropped onto the floorboards and slips it over his head, the bill covering his bruised eyes.

Taking a deep breath, you don’t notice he’s glancing at you until you turn to look at him and his brow is furrowed in concern. You are wound as tightly as he’s ever seen you and he worries this entire trip and the pressure of it is stressing you out more than you already are, the opposite of the desired effect.

“Are you sure you’re alright, angel?”

Nodding, you plaster on a quick smile and reach for the door handle.

“I think I’m just tired. I can’t remember the last time I slept well.”

He understands not to push any further despite lingering concern and he opens his door, stepping out into the cool evening and sighing contentedly, stretching his long limbs out. Still a little stiff from his injuries, he waits on the sidewalk for you to round the car and join him and wiggles his arms and hands.

“You look so cute when you do that,” you mutter with a smile. For a moment, his concern quiets down but your face falls so quickly it comes straight back. Coming to his side, you clutch his hand as if it’s an anchor keeping you sane and nod in the direction of the door. “After you, baby.”

Gladly, he pulls you along with him and the bell over the door dings. It’s a small space and while not packed wall to wall, it’s more crowded than you expected on a weekday evening and you take it in stride, the overhead lighting making your eyes burn after a day spent in mostly darkness. Satoru leans down and kisses the top of your head, inspecting the menu hanging from the ceiling, keeping his mouth pressed against your hair and humming. It’s comforting and you appreciate the gesture, he knows you well enough to be able to tell when you’re struggling, but you can’t focus on what’s happening with the pit in your stomach growing wider by the second.

This room full of people has no idea what either of you have just been through. The weeks of hell, watching the man you love so much you’re afraid it will be your downfall, die in front of you and return like Lazarus himself, your best friend’s death.

Your hands start to shake and your mouth runs dry.

They have no idea your fiancé just killed the body of a man he loved dearly for the second time or that children he assisted raising both lost their lives in the process. These strangers will never know or understand what happened, their lives continuing as carelessly and freely as they always have, and a lump develops in your throat remembering the responsibilities waiting for you when you return home.

Your life has changed forever and the world keeps turning, a notion that is suffocating.

It has been years since your last panic attack but you recognize the feeling immediately. The room shrinks and you laugh nervously, balling your fists. Satoru recognizes something is wrong and tries to grab your attention, quietly mouthing words you can’t make out. Shaking your head and blinking, you laugh again and he uses his grip on your hand to gently guide you toward the door. He keeps his steps short and soft to make sure you stay with him until the two of you are able to find a way to slip outside.

Bending at the knees slightly to come face level with you, he cups your face with your free hand and knits his brows together. If you can't remember the last time you had a panic attack neither can he and he wracks his tired brain to figure out how to make this better. You aren’t asking him to, just for his support, but he has failed to keep you safe and happy so many times he can’t bear to let you fall victim to your own mind while he stands and breathes beside you.

“Come on, let’s get in the car.”

Nodding, you can’t fight the tears anymore and they start to flow freely, dripping down your face and onto the sidewalk below as you let go of his hand long enough to skulk to the driver’s seat of the SUV. Opening the door and sliding in, the door has barely shut by the time you sob aloud, gasping for air and lifting your shaking hands to your face.

Satoru grasps your wrists with one of his hands and pulls your hands down from your cheeks gently, using his other hand to position your head until you’re facing him. Seeing you like this utterly rends him, his own throat tightening watching you struggle to breathe. Without thinking, he does what he would do for his students in this situation.

“Can you breathe for me?”

Despite how sobs make your shoulders shake, you nod and try to inhale deeply through your nose. It still doesn’t feel like enough air but you panic less once it reaches your lungs, exhaling through your mouth.

“Oh, baby.” He hates that this is the only thing he can think of to say. There has and never will be a point where he’s better at words of comfort than you are and it intimidates him how his blindspots only come to light when people need him the most. “Can you tell me what’s going on?”

Without thinking, you blurt out the news you wanted to tell him after you returned home.

“They’re making me principal.”

His eyes widen and he starts to grin but it dims as soon as he sees more tears fall down your face, your sniffling filling the car.

“They picked the best person for the job,” he comforts and you shake your head, refusing to believe that it’s true.

“They picked the easiest scapegoat. They’re going to kill me just like they did Yaga.”

The people who killed Yaga have been permanently removed from their positions by two of your students, their deaths coming just before Satoru’s battle with Sukuna began, but you still worry about what comes next. The clans now hold all of the power and if they’re angry enough over what occurred, you’re the person who will be on the hook to deal with it all.

“No one is going to do that, I would never let them.”

You sniffle and look away, brows furrowed while tears drip into your lap.

“What if it isn’t your choice, Satoru?”

A dark thought consumes the usually easy going man, his stomach turning. Has your faith in him wavered? Do you think he wouldn’t cut down anyone who dared try to hurt or upset you?

“Look at me?”

You do, just as you do any time he asks, and he sighs defeatedly. Now your hackles are raised because you’re worried about him, sniffling and reaching across the car for him. You clutch onto his t-shirt and he lets you, the fabric spilling between your fingers.

“I will never let anything bad happen to you ever again.” You’ve never seen him look so serious, no trace of humor to be found anywhere. No glimmer in his tired blue eyes, no upturned lip to reveal a dimple. You know he needs this confirmation and you nod, sniffling and pulling him closer to you with his shirt.

“Do you trust me?” You nod but it isn’t enough, his gaze still hardened. “I need you to say it.”

Swallowing to try and wet your dry mouth, you nod again and sniffle.

“I trust you with everything and I always will.” Another sniffle but you feel more normal, your breaths still coming quicker than usual but slowly steadying with each moment that passes. Keeping his shirt in your balled fists, you sigh and shake your head. “This isn’t about not trusting you, it’s about being afraid of what comes next.”

Now he understands.

Your faith in him is unshakeable, something you have told him more times than you can count and meant every single one, but the future itself is terrifying. Nobody knows what is coming next, least of all you.

“I know but just like you always tell me, things will work out how they’re supposed to and if they don’t, I will kill anyone who is mean to you.”

Finally, this draws a watery laugh from you and he softens, posture slackening. His stomach growls again and you whine, upset that your own antics prevented him from doing what you two came here to do in the first place - eat.

“I’m sorry about this,” you mumble and he leans over the console to kiss your forehead.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, I’d rather get room service anyway.”

Sniffling again, you untangle your hands from his shirt and turn toward the wheel, positioning yourself to start driving again.

“Wanna go to the hotel then?”

He nods with a soft smile, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Do you want me to drive?”

You shake your head, face looking far less distraught than it did a few minutes ago, and he breathes a sigh of relief.

“Will you really kill anyone who is mean to me?”

He hums exaggeratedly to accompany an animated nod.

“Thank you,” you whisper and he squeezes your shoulder with his arm.

“I’m a nice guy, what can I say?”

DAY 3 - MONTEREY, CA TO BIG SUR, CA

The California coastline glimmers beneath the sun and although you’re driving, you keep sneaking glances toward the edge of the highway, eyes widening every time something beautiful comes into view. You may as well keep them wide open, constantly amazed by the world surrounding you even as it breezes past while you drive.

Day 2 went off without a hitch for the most part, no panic attacks or the like occurring, but you noticed this morning that Satoru seemed quiet. His usual exuberance has been missing from your conversations, instead dimmed down into something that feels like an imitation of the man. You understand this is part of the process of coming to terms with everything that happens but you feel guilty, as if your outburst is keeping him from feeling comfortable enough to be himself.

It could also have nothing to do with you but it’s easier to blame yourself than it is to think about anything else that could possibly be bothering him, your tendency to fall on your sword even worse when it comes to him. The devotion he gives you is returned in full, your natural instinct always to keep him happy and away from anything that could hurt him as unfair as it can be to do so.

You can’t protect anyone from sorrow, it comes as naturally as the waves wash up on the shore below you, all you can do is witness it unfold and hope it doesn’t become a tsunami.

The two of you have been driving in comfortable silence for miles, occasionally oohing aloud at the cliff sides, but it has become less comfortable now that you’re thinking about how it has been like this all day. You try to think of something to talk about but come up short, focusing on the road, and he captures your attention when he speaks.

“I saw them, you know. When I died.”

You raise your eyebrows but don’t look at him, keeping your focus on the road.

“Did you?”

Satoru nods and clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, carelessly sticking his hand out of the small crack in the unrolled window. It isn’t big enough to let the chilly winter air through but it’s just wide enough for him to feel the wind at 40 mph with his Infinity off.

“Yup, they asked me about you. How you’re doing.”

He doesn’t have to say who he saw but you know, gut churning. It’s unlikely that Kento would ask, given you were one of the last people he saw before meeting his fate but Yu and - as painful as it is to even recall his name sometimes - Suguru would.

“What’d you tell them?”

“The truth.”

Raising a brow, you focus on the road ahead of you and drum your fingertips idly against the sides of the steering wheel hoping he’ll elaborate on what the truth actually is. The silence sits heavier than you’d like it to and you open your mouth to end it but he beats you to the punch, head tipped back against the seat he’s sitting in.

“Told them about us and that we’re going to get married.” You smile and he watches your cheek curve, mirroring it with one of his own that fades quickly while he continues speaking. “Told them you’re probably doing pretty badly because I failed to keep you safe. That you have been dead already.”

Shooting him a glance out of the corner of your eye, it’s hard to convey exactly how his words affect you while navigating a vehicle down an elevated single lane highway.

Sometimes he forgets what it’s like to exist vulnerably. You’ve always been the wall between himself and the world, the place where he has allowed himself to soften and take down all airs, but now he wonders what it would be like if he extended that beyond just you. Other friends, what remains of his family, his students. He could never fully give himself to anyone the way he has to you but it’s something to consider while he spreads his fingers and lets the wind blow through them.

Does he deserve any of this?

He didn’t keep you safe. He didn’t keep Megumi or Tsumiki or Nobara safe. He failed, yet here he sits by your side, cold air chilling the tips of his fingers. In an instant, he feels nothing, turning his Infinity on wordlessly and keeping his gaze locked on the trees rushing by his window while you consider what to say to help him right now.

“It has never been your responsibility to keep me safe, Satoru.”

He chuckles humorlessly and swallows so thickly you can hear it even with the sound of air entering the car through the cracked window.

“For my entire life, my only purpose has been to keep people safe. If I can’t do that, what can I do?”

Glancing at the road, you spot the shoulder and decide to pull off to the side, parking and turning on your lights. Satoru has been wordless and still for longer than you’ve ever seen him and your heart breaks imagining how he must feel right now.

The weight of the world is a heavy burden to carry and he has done it since before he could form full sentences, a fact you forget because he wears the responsibility as though it’s a cloak he can shrug off at any time, but you know that he takes it far more seriously inwardly. His life has been wrapped up in grooming him to be not simply a protector, but the protector, the gatekeeper of the insular society the two of you are a part of.

“Look at me?”

You ask just as he asked you to do two days ago and he does, the quarter turn of his head giving you an actual view of his face for the first time all day. He looks better than he did yesterday, scratches and bruises healing far faster than they would otherwise as he restores his energy. His eyes meet yours for a minute and you catch the shimmer that means his Infinity is turned on and you look away from him to compose yourself.

His carefully crafted facade has shattered at his feet - he’ll always be The Strongest but his weakness was exposed in the form of bleeding out, severed through the middle, on a battlefield. What is he supposed to do now?

Your eyes turn toward him once again and you sigh though it holds nothing but concern and you unbuckle your seatbelt to shift your body until you’re facing him, knees pressed against the center console. He half smiles and chuckles to himself seeing you move and get comfortable but it dies as quickly as it came, his head still pressed to the headrest while looking directly at you.

All you can do is help him pick up the pieces and figure out who he wants to be now that he has the ability to choose.

“You know I don’t love you because you’re strong, right?”

He shrugs.

“I’m sure it probably helps.”

“No, Satoru. I love you because you make me laugh and cry and get angry sometimes. You let me be myself and never ask that I be anyone different even though I’m sure it would make your life easier if I were less stubborn and set in my ways.”

Getting choked up, you stop yourself and his eyes stop shimmering, Infinity off. He reaches across the center console and holds your hand, smoothing his thumb over the back of it and feeling the puckered wounds that are becoming eerily smooth scars. Swallowing, you blink and will yourself to keep it together until you get through what you have to say.

“I love you because you are courageous and that has nothing to do with your abilities, that’s who you are in your heart. You care so much despite how little you try to show it and your devotion goes deeper than the ocean and you are loyal and…”

Trailing off, searching for the words to sum up how you feel about him, he squeezes his hand and you see a peek of him in the soft smile on his face. Tipping his head to the side, he widens his eyes.

“You forgot handsome.”

Despite being near tears, you laugh and he feels warmer just listening to it and witnessing the grin he loves so much spreading across your face.

“You are the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on, even when you’re a little scraped up, don’t worry about that.”

Despite how difficult you have been to understand throughout various points in your decade long relationship with the man, he knows everything you’re saying is true or else you would not say it. You are too honest at times even if it’s sugarcoated to keep from hurting feelings but he knows you give him the most vulnerable form of yourself just as he does for you.

He scrunches his nose and turns toward you, unbuckling so he can shift his body to face you.

“Those sound like vows. Have you been practicing?”

Shrugging, you play his question off with a wry smile because he caught you. You still feel teary but blinking keeps any from coming and you idly play with his fingers and allow yourself to indulge in romance despite the heaviness still lingering between the two of you.

“Not necessarily practicing, just trying to figure out how to put how I feel about you into words because I don’t think the words I need exist.”

An arched brow is his response and you roll your eyes, tilting your chin toward the ground to hide your smile. He doesn’t want to coax anything additional out of you but the relief he feels knowing you still want to marry him despite everything that has happened is almost as comforting as the first breath he took waking back up after being healed enough to keep going by Shoko and Yuuta.

He would be doing you both a disservice if he let you off the hook completely, though.

“So you still want to marry me?”

You scoff, lifting your head to look at him with a raised brow that mirrors the one he just gave you.

“Please. I’d marry you right now if you wanted.”

“Then do it.”

Opening your mouth to speak, you stop when the words won’t come, and he fills in the blanks for you.

“Let’s get married right now.”

“Satoru, we are in a car pulled off to the side of the road on one of the most famous highways in America.”

“So?”

At least his mood seems to have improved, the mischievous glimmer back in his eyes as he looks at where your hand and his take turns smoothing over each other. The two of you are always so sync even if you don’t realize it, seeking one another out like air, and you inhale sharply to keep from getting emotional once again.

“Okay. How do you wanna do it?”

He grins, shrugging.

“I guess we just say it.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you shoot at him despite the smile on your face and he leans across the center console to kiss you. It amazes you just how many different types of kisses this man can give you in the span of a few minutes, going from silly to sweet to sincere to sexy, but you’re grateful to be on the receiving end of each one. Your lips mold to his perfectly, no longer split and cracked the way they were a few days ago, and he pulls back from you with raised brows and meets your eyes.

“And you’re my wife.”

For as unceremonious as the event of apparently becoming his wife has been, you feel a rush of heat to your face when he says the word in reference to you and the way his gemstone eyes are gazing into yours tells you that he means it. You are his wife and as far as you’re concerned, just saying it is enough, you can worry about the rest later.

“Does that make you my husband?”

Smiling, he tips his head and leans forward to press his forehead against yours.

“I sure hope so.”

And so it begins, the rest of your trip as makeshift newlyweds, your heart pounding at the realization that this means forever. This is the commitment to one another you’ve both been anticipating and scared to make, you spent years running from him because you knew this was the only outcome, but with noses touching and two sets of eyes blinking at one another it has never been more apparent that you two were meant for this, for each other.

DAY 6 - MALIBU, CA - POINT DUME LOOKOUT

The final day of the trip has passed by at lightning speed, your flight leaving from LAX first thing in the morning. It feels correct that you’re spending your last few hours on some of the most beautiful soil on earth watching the sunset over the horizon in Malibu despite the cool air of the January day. The ocean glimmers and you can’t help but gasp in awe at what you see, feeling like a proverbial goddess staring at the open land below you.

“This is beautiful,” you mutter and Gojo joins your side, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. He has a blanket and spare jacket tucked under the other, something to keep you both warm after the sun fully sets and the air grows colder.

“Almost as pretty as you.”

Rolling your eyes, you swat at his chest and suddenly every piece falls back into place. The past five days have been exactly what he needed to find himself, to return to who he is and who he wants to be, and it thrills him to think for even a moment that he may someday feel completely normal again. It won’t undo the things that have happened but it will help him make sense of them.

“Ouch,” he mutters playfully and you laugh, pulling the blanket out of the crook of his elbow and placing it on the ground below with a flourish and a shake of your hands. You instantly sink to the ground below, crossing your legs and sitting back with your hands bracing you. Satoru follows suit with an easy smile, sunglasses covering his eyes despite his facial injuries now being mostly gone.

Sighing, you tip your head upward and let the sunlight warm it.

Things are going to be okay, you tell yourself with an earnestness you couldn’t muster a week ago. This is exactly what you needed.

A comfortable silence falls over the two of you, contentedly watching seabirds drift by in the distance, but you sit up and turn to face Gojo, smiling wistfully watching the sunset on his features.

“You wanna know what I’ve been thinking about lately?”

He hums at your question, nodding emphatically.

“Of course.”

Turning your face back toward the sunset, you recall a moment you have been thinking about since the moment it happened, the night he called you his soulmate. It was in the thick of an emotional evening after a long day, the two of you indulging in some pillow talk before falling asleep. It was so easy for him to say, as if he never assumed anything else could be true.

“Years ago you told me you’ve always known it was going to be us and I brushed it off as you running your mouth,” Satoru fakes offense at your words but you smile wistfully, shaking your head and looking down toward your crossed thighs, the sun suddenly becoming too bright to keep gazing at. “But it’s not a coincidence it has ended up being us two, is it?”

You feel guilty for leaving out Shoko and Utahime and the other friends and students you have met along the way but he knows better than anyone what you mean. He smiles back and captures your hand in his, your palms pressed together while watching the sunset over the Pacific Ocean, cold winter waves lapping at the jagged rocks below the cliff you sit on.

“Add clairvoyance to my list of skills because I called it, didn’t I?” Humor mixed with unwavering honesty, one of the things you love the most about Satoru, peeks through his every word and you feel so full of love it’s hard to do anything but finally stare at him, eyes squinting thanks to the last bright remnants of daylight. “Even back when you thought I was nothing but a pest with freakishly long arms I knew it had to be you.”

Giggling, you think back to those days that were a practical lifetime ago. Time seemed like it was endless, stretching on and on forever in sundrenched days lounging in the courtyard grass at school, and you assumed you had endless amounts of it. Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, it’s all the same when you know you have theoretically at least six more decades to live.

You were reckless with your feelings and even more so with those of others back then, the man next to you a frequent recipient of annoyed eye rolls and scoffs. He knows he deserved them all even if he gives you a hard time about them now, his boyish determination to impress you gradually buffing away your edges until none remained.

To the uninitiated, it may appear he tamed you, buffed and smoothed you into perfection equal to his own, but anyone who matters knows better. Satoru remade you, as being loved unconditionally does to anyone. He loved you when you were scowling and spitting and swiping, refusing his friendship and certainly his affections, and he loves you now with your palm pressed against his while you gently breathe in brisk ocean air wrapped in his coat.

“Thank you for never giving up on me.”

He pulls you closer, chin resting on top of your head as it always does. No response comes and you don’t need one, content to listen to the soft puffs of air leaving his nostrils that ruffle the top of your hair. Weeks ago, you weren’t certain you’d ever hear them again. Now though, the mix of the roaring waves and his breaths and his heartbeat pounding against your back catch you off guard and you start to cry, a tear trailing down your nose.

“Don’t do that. No crying.”

Despite the tears, you laugh. It’s impossible to do anything but when he looks down at you with his head cocked, a little mocking pout on his lips. Leaning up, you kiss him gently and he hums into it, thumb reaching to swipe the stray tear off of your cheek. Leaning back from him, you sniffle.

“Just a little? You know how I am.”

He shakes his head. How can he ever deny you anything? You’re his life, his reason, his world. His one.

“Okay, a tear or two for my little crybaby but that’s it.”

Whatever tears were welling up dissipate quickly when you start laughing and it wows you how it seems like everything is truly back to normal. The two of you glancing at one another like lovesick teenagers, the same as you did ten years ago, the same as you will for the rest of your lives.

“You were right, you know. We are soulmates.”

He grins.

“That’s not something I hear from you often but I’ll take it.”

DAY 7 - TOKYO, JP

The 9 hours back home felt far longer than the ones passing on the way there but after a blissful week and an easy flight, you are home and you are clean and you are comfortable in your own bed.

Spread across the mattress in nothing but a towel, you listen to Satoru hum from the adjoining bathroom while he brushes his teeth, running water mingling with a song that kept playing on the radio during your trip that has been stuck in his head for four days. Giggling, you wonder if he knows you can hear him or if he’s truly in his own little world.

“Turn the water off, it’s wasteful!”

You playfully shout into the bathroom and you hear the water cease but the humming continues. He’s well aware that you’re listening and it’s glorious to see even more of him come home - his happiness returning and stabilizing over the last few days. You worried at the beginning of your trip things would never be the same and they won’t, of course, the losses you’ve both suffered more than any one person should have to, but they will feel good again and already do.

Speaking of feeling good, your husband (who is very insistent that you call him this despite no legal documentation of your marriage existing) saunters into the room with a towel low slung on his hips and you can’t help but let your eyes roam over every part of him. His arms are no longer bruised and scuffed, back to their defined and pristine glory. The face you know every contour of is back to normal as well, nary a trace of anything happening in the first place, but curiously - he isn’t devoting any energy to heal the scars across his torso. Small silvery slashes and the big one where Sukuna split him into two remain visible.

Your mouth waters watching him dry the ends of his hair with a towel and it’s no longer satisfying to merely look, you need to feel; to touch every piece of him to ensure he’s still here despite having done it many times over the last several days. Every touch will be like this for the rest of your life, you think, making sure he’s whole and real and yours.

“Come here,” you nod and tilt your head, flipping from your back onto your stomach and swinging your legs in the air behind you. Gojo hums, raising his eyebrows and sliding onto the bed next to you, leaning onto his side and propping his head up with a hand.

“What can I do for you?”

You giggle almost girlishly, fluttering your lashes for no particular reason other than to let him know that he still has the ability to fluster you a decade together later. Tentatively, you reach toward him and trace your finger over the scar through the middle of his torso, the flesh smooth and pearlescent.

“Keeping that one?”

He shrugs, looking down to see your single finger become an entire palm pressed against his abdomen, your fingers tracing small paths across his abs and chest. The muscles beneath your hand tense with each touch and you pull yourself to your knees, crawling across the bed to kneel beside him.

“Maybe I’ll get rid of it eventually. I have the choice, you know?”

That he does and you nod, understanding. Your hand continues to travel over his chest, smoothing over each of his pecs and your core flutters excitedly when your hand travels from his upper torso to the lower portion, fingers sliding beneath the knot of his towel.

He looks over your body, the way that your tits are pressed together and spilling over the towel secured over them, eyes trailing from your cleavage to your shoulder where a jagged and angry scar of your own sits. It’s from an attempt to dismember you in Shibuya, to cleave your arm straight from your shoulder, yet you don’t let the fact that it’s there bother you a bit.

Satoru’s cock starts to harden under his towel merely looking at you and you smile watching it come to life beneath the cotton covering it, pushing him backward and flat onto his back so that you can straddle him. Discarding your towel, you drop it on the floor next to the bed and lean over him, chests pressed together while your knees rest on either side of his hips.

“Hello there,” he teases and you laugh, leaning down to kiss him and bracing your forearms on either side of his head. There is no time wasted on gentle kisses, opting instead for the type that sear as you pant into his mouth and feel his bulge pressed against your bare cunt. You grind against him, the friction from the towel over his cock making you whimper, and one of his hands finds your hip to hold you steady while you make yourself feel good.

“You like that, baby?”

Humming affirmatively to his question, you drag yourself across his covered length for only a moment more and choose instead to sit up, giving him a full view of all of you. This is a sight he has been blessed with more times than he could begin to count but every time it feels like a gift, your breasts swaying as you steady yourself. His hand slides from your hip to your waist and even higher, thumb and index finger pinching your nipple and making you tilt your head back and moan.

“To think I almost never saw this again,” he mutters to himself but you hear it, leaning forward enough that your face hovers above his. You kiss the side of his jaw and he groans, cock so hard the towel has shortened by several inches while it fights to sit against his stomach as gravity intends for it to.

Kissing further down his jaw and his neck, you rest your face in the crook of his neck for a moment and sigh dreamily. You're already soaked, ready to slip him inside of you at any moment.

“To think I never saw this again,” you repeat back to him and sit up, reaching behind you to unknot his towel and push it off of his hips, looking over your shoulder and groaning at his pretty pink tip resting against his belly, glossy with precum. You look down at him with a slight pout, leaning in to kiss him while running your hands over every inch of his body that you can.

“Look at you, Satoru. You’re so beautiful.”

He’s no stranger to your compliments but he flusters a bit anyway, chest turning pink as his face heats up. His white lashes flutter as he looks down at you, your mouth pressing kisses into his neck and warm chest. You scrape your teeth over his nipples and it makes him whine, bucking his hips and pressing his heavy cock against your pussy.

"Fuck baby," he mutters, hissing when you press your hips down against him, the wetness seeping from you coating your lips and his shaft in return, your hips gliding easily over him. Your mouth remains occupied, pressing kisses lower down his abdomen and over the scars he hasn't yet healed. It's your responsibility to remind him that every single piece of him is as lovable and stunning as ever and you take it seriously.

"I need you."

The rasp in his words makes you smile and you nod, ceasing your kissing and straightening your spine so that you can press your tits against his chest again. There is zero space between your bodies, just how you prefer it. He reaches for his cock and groans, wrapping his fingers around the base, abandoning it to brush his fingers over your wet cunt.

"All that for me," he marvels, two digits sinking into you with ease and you arch your back slightly, letting him spread you open while grinding your hips down against his pelvis, the direct contact of his body on your clit sending sparks through you.

"Just for you, handsome," you smirk against his neck and he crooks his fingers inside of you, brushing the spot he knows drives you wild. You moan and he pulls his fingers out of you, your cunt clenching in protest only for him to immediately replace them with the girth of his cock, your walls stretching to accommodate him.

"Feels so good," you whisper and he hums, hands coming to your hips to keep them steady while he thrusts upward into you slowly, sinking himself to the base methodically, shallow thrusts pulling him nearly out of you.

He's greedy though, undeniably addicted to the way you make him feel, and keeps enough of himself inside of you that you are unable to even begin to miss the way he feels. Your walls clench around him, keeping him secured inside and your hips grind lazily despite his grip on them.

The pleasure is mind numbing but you keep yourself alert, moaning softly while he throbs inside of you. More lazy thrusts met with slow and passionate grinding make you moan on unison, lips finding each other. Moaning into each others mouths, occasionally brushing tongues and kissing, you're overwhelmed with nothing but pure love knowing you have this to look forward to forever.

Forever sounds like a long time but you can't think of any better way to spend it than with your Satoru.

"You gonna cum baby?"

He asks and you nod, your walls gripping him tightly. His thrusts speed up, the sound of skin on skin filling your bedroom. The mind is a powerful tool and despite this being quite possibly the least active sex the two of you have ever had, you're so in love with him your body does what it does naturally and that's cum around his cock, clenching and pulsing to let him know how much all of you loves all of him.

"I love you," you babble against his mouth and he chuckles. "I know baby, I know."

Your hips still and you let him hold you in place, his back arched as he thrusts fully in and out of you, his own release slowly coming over him. His eyes flutter shut and he stays buried inside of you, ropes of his cum filling you and seeping out around the base of him, dripping down onto the towel below him.

You don't say a word, sinking into his chest while he softens inside of you. Talking feels unnecessary when your body itself says so much but the big mouth is back to normal so the blissful silence doesn't last for long.

"I love you too, by the way."

At least he's being sweet.

Giggling, you kiss him and wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, clinging to him while he moves from your mouth to press kisses into your hairline.

"So," he starts and you look up, hovering off of his chest enough to look him in his eyes. "When are we telling everyone that we're married?"

"Let's make it legal first, yeah?"

He pouts but it is replaced quickly with a wry smile and you sink back down to rest against him, cheek pressed into his collarbone. The news surely won't come as a surprise to anyone but you want to make sure it's set in stone before letting everyone know.

"Let's go first thing in the morning."

His eagerness makes you laugh but you acquiesce, knowing there's no excuse to wait. You spent enough time fighting off the inevitable that for once, you're glad to just sit back and enjoy the ride, especially when you're enjoying it by Satoru's side.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoken #this is an entry to satoken canon yes #kendall writes

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writingsbymo-mo · 5 months

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I'm not Alcoholic

Drunk!Rindou x Reader

Contains: fluff, drunken shenanigans, Ran being a worried older brother as he should

Summary: you got off late from work, head to the convenience store near your apartment. What you didn't expect was the surprise you'd have when you get home.

"Sigh...another night of cup noodles. Least they had my favorite tonight."

You were finally on your way home from work, having to take some overtime to finish up a few things. Just another typical day. You were glad you had the next couple days off to rest instead of slaving away with minimal pay. "I need to find a new job," you sighed, clutching your bag from the combini, strolling briskly to your apartment.

As soon as you approached the building, you opened your bag, digging your keys out with a minor struggle but you managed to find them. "Phew, now I don't have to break a window....eeeh, nevermind." You shook your head, arriving at your door when you dropped your bag and keys in a panic. "R-Rindou!"

You scrambled over to him, reaching out to touch his forehead. He was hot to the touch, face flushed crimson when you noticed a subtle sweet smell coming from his breaths. Ah, of course.

Arms suddenly wrapped around you, pulling you against his heater of a body, slurring his speech as he said your name. "Mmmine...."

"Rin!" You squeaked. A rush of warmth blossomed in your cheeks. You tried wriggling your way out of his hold but of course, his firm arms were too strong to move even in his current state. "C-can we go inside please?"

His arms slumped as soft snores left his lips. Somehow, it's like he understood...maybe? Doesn't matter. You stood up quickly, grabbing your keys and unlocked the door. "Rin....Rindou...pst, Rindou," you shook his shoulder, mumbling his name. His eyes cracked open, hiccupping and smiling at you. "Shoo pretty."

You smiled and shook your head, hoisting him up from under his shoulder, "thanks Rin, let's get you inside and something to drink, ok?"

He stumbled and swayed, giving you a hard time keeping your balance, walking him to the couch. You set him down, lifting his legs onto the cushions. "I'll go get you some water. Rin," you turned around and muttered under your breath, "and give Ran a quick text. Bet he's worried sick."

With a glass in hand, you filled it up with cold water. 'I should get him something to eat too,' You thought, 'guess I'll be making two cup noodles.'

While you let the water heat up, you stepped back into the living space and nearly dropped the glass. "R-RINDOU?!"

"Wwhaaat?" He whined. His arms were folded across his chest as he stretched his legs out on the couch in splits....with nothing on, giving you a full view of himself.

"W-why did you take your clothes off?" You placed the glass on the table next to the couch.

"Tooo *hic* waaarm..."

"I'll get the fan," you picked the glass back up, handing it to him, "this will help you in the meantime." You smiled, kissing him atop his head.

Soon, he began to feel better. His snores filled the room as you placed a blanket over him. You didn't have the mental capacity to think about explaining why he's naked under the covers. That's a problem for tomorrow you. With quiet steps, you got into bed and fell asleep.

A few hours into the night, you were woken up to something pressing into your back. Something warm. Something that smelled subtly like sandalwood. "R-Rindou," you croaked through your tired and dry throat. "What are you doing in here?" He grumbled into your ear, nuzzling into your neck as his hot breath sent tingles down your spine. You sighed in defeat. You knew he wouldn't wake up in this state nor could you escape his grasp. All you could do now is try to fall back to sleep. "Goodnight Rin. Please don't scream when you wake up..."

Bright rays of the morning sun illuminated your room. You cracked your eyes open and yawned with the stretch of your limbs. A deep, tired groan entered your ears as Rindou stirred awake. "Fuck...," he lifted his head, gripping his forehead.

"Need something for that hangover?"

He jolted back, eyes wide as his mouth hung open. "H-how did—WHERE ARE MY CLOTHES?!!"

"You stripped them off when you got too hot...they're uh...still in the other room..." you blushed and looked away, twiddling your thumbs. "Do you usually do that when you're drunk?"

He sighed, running his hands through his hair. "It's not the first time it's happened...did I—"

"No, you just went to sleep. Don't worry. Actually...I did find you outside my door when I got home. You scared me, Rin! I was worried you got sick or maybe Ran got mad at you over something..." you looked down with a small pout, releasing a heavy sigh, "just glad you're safe."

Rindou placed his hand on the back of your head, pulling you against his bare chest. "Sorry, love," he whispered, kissing the top of your head. You hummed, closing your eyes as you basked in his warmth. "Oh, when you head back...um...you kind of owe Ran for keeping him up almost all night..."

"Fuck.......better get the usual...."

"Sorry, Rin..."

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

Ring....ring.....

Ran: —is Rindou there?!

You: Yeah...he uh...fell asleep at my door...and is now on the couch.

Ran: Sigh...that little shit...he owes me for keeping me up this late...

You: Haha, yeah. Knew you'd be worried.

Ran: ...yeah...at least I know he's safe and I don't have to bail him out.

You: Oh! Uhhhh....does Rin usually...strip when he gets drunk?

Ran: I'm starting to believe that's a yes.

You: Ummm, and what's that supposed to mean, Ran?

Ran: I've only seen this happen a couple times when he's shitfaced drunk. Woke me up playing his mixes and found him jamming in commando...

Yiu: pffft ahahha! Oh...my god...he didn’t!

Ran: Oh, he fucking did. Threw a pillow in his face and told him to go the fuck to sleep!

You tried to hold in your laughter but to no avail, you cackled into the phone.

You: That's fucking hilarious! But anyway, I'll tell him you owe him when he wakes up. See ya.

Ran: Mmhmm.

Click

"Sorry Rin but it looks like you'll be making a stop before you head home tomorrow..."

#rindou being a bit silly #tokyo revengers #haitani rindou #ran haitani #haitani ran #rindou haitani x reader #rindou haitani #haitani rindou x reader #rindou x reader #tok rev #tokyo revengers x reader #do not interrupt ran's sleep #tokyo revengers scenarios #tokyo revengers fanfiction

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tarjapearce · 7 months

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Mi Dulce Cereza (Pt. 6)

Ranchero! Miguel O'Hara x Reader

WARNINGS: Tender smut, daily snippets of life, telenovela coded drama, family feud, and more drama.

Summary: Unexpected visits are not Miguel's thing.

Couldn't wait til tomorrow. My bad

Miguel's lips slurped your neck, leaving a wet trail of kisses on your skin. His hands roamed your waist until they reached your cheeks and cupped them lovingly.

Eyes softened upon locking with yours, a gaze full of love and adoration as he buried himself between your hips. You bit your lip with a soft and inviting mewl.

Your eyes stared at him, a soft blush splattered on his amorous yet lustblown face. Meaty lips parted as he panted. Both of his hands entwined tightly on yours, leading them above your head. His body trembled and his breathings hitched. Self control menacing to go out the window as you clamped around him.

"Mi amor" He warned, and you whimpered in return at the tortuous yet delicious pace. You could feel him inch by inch, stretching you.

His thrust firm, deep yet slow. He didn't want to hurt you or the baby, and no matter how much you pleaded for him to go rougher on you, he refrained from ravaging you just the way you liked.

Your legs wrapped around him, squeezing his toned and narrow waist, urging to go deeper.

"No me tortures" (Don't torture me)

He slid one arm underneath your back to cradle you closer as he pushed in once more. Legs immediately wrapped at the base of his hips, squeezing him. Your arms were around his neck, lips devouring, desperate and panting at each other's.

Your body bounced underneath him and his strong limbs. Breast flattened against his scorching torso. Hormones and need in their peak. A loving and tender way to consummate your marriage almost a month later from your courthouse wedding. Baby bump a little more prominent.

He was too far gone in your scent, your delicious and sweet sounds only he could provoke. Your hair tickling his forearms. A flurry of I love yous came in between blown breaths on both mouths as he kept burying himself inside you.

To say you both missed the sensations was an understatement.

With a whimper and a violent tremor, your walls spasmed so deliciously against him, milking his cock. He came as he held tenderly your convulsing body close to him. Emptying himself inside you. His frame swallowing you whole as the ripples of his back contracted and pulsed. Just like his cock.

Your toes curled and you smiled. A few of his front strands tickling your face as he rested his forehead on yours. Panting yet giving little chucklings at your reaction. Sweat sticking on your skin while you melted in his arms.

"What's so funny?"

He kissed and bit your cheek softly, earning a little squeal from you.

"Nothing. I feel like a ragdoll next to you."

"You're perfect, Cerecita. Specially like this."

He laid you down carefully and caressed your cheek with an oeillade your way.

"What?" Your wispy lashes fluttered and he smiled.

"Almost a month later and I can't believe we got married."

"Is that regret I hear?"

He nipped your neck and you giggled.

"Don't ever think that. I'm just surprised as how time flies."

"I hope it flies away for this little bean inside too."

He chuckled and laid next to you, a hand rubbing soothingly on your lower and growing belly.

He looked at the clock, ticking at 3 am.

Your nausea had subsided a bit as Vicky kept feeding you with the right things. But there was nothing she could actually do when it came to the waves of raging hormones that hit you in the least expected moments.

It was almost embarrassing how you ogled at Miguel whenever they did. And they hit hard. And today, you both had finally found a much needed relief after constant teasing.

He had always treated you with such finesse and love, way even before you were pregnant. Kind of reminded you of that first kiss you shared in the barn.

He was a natural for kissing and so many other things that had you swooning. The golden ring on his hand filled your chest with pride and contempt. He was one of the few choices in life you didn't regret rather embraced.

Your mind was full of peace and joy knowing that he not only reciprocated, but gave the extra mile at your affection.

You curled in his chest and he kissed your forehead.

"Te amo. Stop thinking"

You grunted tiredly. He lulled you to sleep by caressing your hair.

-----

"Miguel? Levántate, mijo. Ya es tarde" (Wake up, Mijo. It's late)

Vicky's voice echoed from the other side of the door. He stirred awake with an annoyed groan.

"Voy" (Coming.)

Your naked leg hooked on his. He sighed with a smug smile.

"I need to go, corazón"

"Five more minutes? I don't get to see you until lunch."

He kissed you.

"Just a couple of hours."

"What do you want for lunch?"

He got up and you slapped his ass with a mischievous smile.

"You. And for dinner as well. But, knowing that's not possible at the moment, anything you decide to do will be good. I know so. "

Your cheeks grew warmer at his words.

"I love you."

Your words earned a loving and tender hug from him and another kiss.

"I love you too."

He took a shower and got dressed. Hard duty jeans, that clung to his muscular and toned legs and glutes, a cotton long sleeved shirt that he rolled on the elbows, a belt, his boots and his hat, that rested on his back. A small cord holding it around his neck.

He blowed a kiss your way and left to attend his duties.

Despite the construction work force returning there was still alot to do around. The barn was finished within a couple of days, and then they moved to the insides of the estate.

The second floor had the windows installed at last. A group worked on the electricity as the others focused in finishing the final touches as some walls were bare. Pure brick and concrete.

Little by little your love nest was taking shape. And being involved in the process made you feel valued and respected. Miguel didn't take any further choices without consulting you.

Your orchard was worked and nurtured every day and seeing the little sprouts of some things made you cry in happiness.

Vicky always accompanied you, you helped eachother. One thing you adored was the fact that most of the workers knew their ways in the kitchen. If Vicky or Miguel would spot them slacking, they'd be sent to help out in the lunch or dinner prepping.

Paco had just entered his eighteens, he was tall, lanky but strong. You'd seen him carrying the concrete bags like they were feathers. He didn't talk much. Brown eyes, light caramel skin with curls ontop of his square shaped face.

He came from a family close to Vicky and Miguel. He was like a nephew to el Patrón. (The Boss)

Joseph on the other hand was on his young adult phase. Twenty one, light brown hair tied in a bun behind his oblong shaped face. A light beard, body more sculpted and toned with a few tattoos on his arms and ankles, hazel eyes and a mean demeanor that was only a decoy for the true goof he was inside.

You'd often find him joking with Paco or the constructions workers. Miguel had found him, freshly thrown into homelessness by life circumstances. He wouldn't admit it, but Joseph saw Miguel as a mentor. Everything he knew was thanks to him.

The both helpers slept comfortably in one of the cabins. After all, the workers area was the first thing Miguel sent to repair. He didn't want for them to go through what he did in your farm.

Sure, the barn had it's own place already built, but that didn't mean it was in good conditions.

He never told you but the first night he barely slept due the bead creaking noises and the crawlers that jumped out of nowhere on him.

----

"Look at you, so glowy and pretty. Fun night I suppose?"

"Vicky!"

Victoria laughed at your blushing cheeks.

"Ay chamaca. Es normal!" (Oh, girl. It's normal)

She cleaned some red beans before tossing them into a large pot

"And you better seize that at every chance you have cause once that little O'Hara pops out, you'll barely have time to sleep."

"Alright, jeesh."

Vicky then put the pot to boil and begun peeling some green plantains.

"You know? When Miguel first spoke about you, I had my doubts."

"Oh? How come?"

Vicky sighed and looked at you.

"You'll see. The many women, and by many, I mean two, he'd ever introduced me with, were not good. One was too competitive with him, they'd spend more time arguing than anything, her parents didn't approve of him either."

Vicky sighed at the memory of the many times she'd have to console him and take away the bottle of mezcal from his hands before he got too drunk.

"It wasn't nice, the other one cheated on him with Gabriel. Bien mamoncilla la morra." (Such an unbearable woman)

Your eyes widened and you covered your mouth.

"Do they... talk? I mean Miguel and Gabriel?"

"From time to time. They're no longer at odds, though. Or at least that's what I want to believe. But don't worry, Mija. You won fair and square."

You chuckled.

"Did I?"

"Well, you've got the ring, his last name and pregnant with his child. ¿Qué más quieres pues?" (What else you could possibly want?)

You laughed bashfully.

"Make him happy. Just the way he is making me"

"Ay. Ustedes los jóvenes... So sappy" (Ah you youngsters)

You giggled sheepishly.

"I mean it, Vicky."

"I know, corazón. Sólo estoy bromeando. Just hope you're prepared to meet Conchata, eventually. Or never, hopefully" (Just kidding)

"Conchata? Whose that?"

"Miguel's biological mom that shows up from time to time just to pester my boy."

You gave Victoria droll look as you kept slicing the meat.

"Between you and I, I'm more mother to Miguel and even Gabriel than that woman ever was."

"She sounds... complicated"

Vicky rolled her eyes, "Irresponsable es lo que es." (Irresponsible is what she is.)

"She never let me do anything, but didn't do shit either. Had to whip Miguel's and Gabriel's ass to get them right. Not proud of it, but someone had to teach them values."

"If something is worth saying? He is a great man. You did amazing."

"Ah don't worry. Miguel knows better to fuck around with me."

You both laughed silently. The complicity on her tales not only offered more and more knowledge about Miguel, but a better way to understand him.

"You know? My mom sure was there in her own way I guess but... she married my dad just for money."

"Bet she did. Don't get me wrong, mi niña. Miguel told me everything about her, and by God, I wanted to go where he was and slap some sense into her." (Sweetie)

"Is it wrong to admit that... same?"

Vicky faked a gasp and smirked.

"Ay, Cerecita. Getting out of that house is the best decision you have done. And I mean it."

She pointed at you with her finger, "You were so damn stressed when you came that slept for almost twelve hours straight."

You finished preparing and let the heat do it's job.

"But now you're here. Safe. How do you feel about it?"

"It's scary, the changes I mean. But I've never felt so free and good about a decision I've done. I don't regret it."

"That's the important. When is the next check up?"

"Within a week or so, haven't told Miguel. I forgot about it too. Gotta look for a new doctor. Don't want my family to drag her down to this mess either."

"I know someone. Is the family's doctor. We'll discuss this later. We gotta finish lunch."

----

The goal was to finish renovations in a couple of months. Miguel was aware that it would need a good amount of time, specially the main house of the hacienda. After all, that's where his future family would be living and his own business would develop. (estate)

Naturally, he'd want it to be everlasting and good and pretty. Perfect to grow old in it.

He'd oversee every detail that the architect and designer were adding and scratching off. He'd want to make some things baby proofed for his future child. He poured his heart and mind on this life project whenever he wasn't with you. But otherwise, you'd be the main focus of his attention and devotion.

He'd be having meetings with direct providers to increase his cattle. Cows, goats a bit of sheeps and pigs. He had enough chickens for now. But there was something that got him concerned.

Given that your parents were purebred horse traders, they were well acquainted with the main suppliers. Sure he had acted like a third party when Margarita and Manchas, a Mustang mare with her foal, had arrived to the enclosure as their new addition.

He learned a lot. But meddling with the suppliers was something he thought twice, since he didn't want any unnecessary trouble. He'd consult you about it later.

He'd often think about Agustín. A Friesian purebred horse that nearly breaks Joaquín's legs, another Mustang horse, in the initial training. He was quite surprised to see such a noble and calm tempered breed being aggressive towards others. A clear sign of past abuse before he was brought with your parents.

Agustín had been a lucky purchase from your dad. A lucky shop that was surely missing his morning strolls with him. Or getting his hair braided and groomed.

As much as Miguel wanted him back, he knew there was little to nothing he could do. He had the money to buy it, but the property weighed more, priority wise.

You had hit the 10 week mark of your pregnancy. And that only motivated him to keep working hard. You did your own fair share of things around besides domestic chores.

You were in charge of supervising the fencing and also helped with the finances. Sometimes you'd spend hours with him making the balances to fit in the numbers.

The electricity had been installed completely on the second floor and so was the water system. It was the little milestones that put a smile on his face.

And what a better way to celebrate that the cattle was growing and a new main door were installed, than a big dinner with the construction workers and helpers.

Hacienda O'Hara was getting onto it's feet.

There was food, drinks and much to your happy dismay, Miguel took you to dance in the middle of the people's circle that clapped and cheered. Vicky danced with Miguel and other coworkers.

There was no envy, no back handed comments disguised as actual compliments, zero pretense. You were having fun.

Your 'friends' no longer called you, neither texted. But being apart of them had also brought you peace. You had changed your number. After all, it was a new start.

The only numbers you kept were neutral providers that had helped you to get new horse traders contact.

Before your mind kept wandering into business mode, Miguel pulled you out of it with a deep kiss.

But joy wouldn't last much when Paco came running towards Miguel with an alarmed expression that instantly made you frown. Miguel's scowl only deepened the dreading worry that crept in you as he listened to Paco.

"Miguel? What's wrong?"

"Stay here."

"W-What?"

"No dejes que salga, Victoria." (Don't let her out)

Vicky puckered and held you in her arms, trying to soothe your nerves

"Miguel!"

You could only watch as he put on his hat and take the gun Paco gave him. Your eyes widened at the revolver.

"You need to stay calm, mija. I know you are concerned, probably is another iperson that wants Miguel's property. Those cabrones are persistent."

Her words fell upon deaf ears since that harrowing hunch set deeper in your gut.

It didn't helped that Joseph rounded up some people as he looked at you with a concerned expression as he talked through his phone.

Your mind rumbled, Vicky's words offered little reassurance. But something felt wrong. And then a gunshot was heard.

"Miguel" Your eyes filled in with tears and you rushed in the direction he had gone to. Vicky called as she followed you with pleading words.

---

As soon as Paco came to him and muttered your parent's last name, he knew things wouldn't end well.

He had been careful enough to not drag any unwanted attention towards him and his property. But trouble had this annoying way to find in the least appropriate of times.

Paco gave him the gun, just for safety measures. He didn't like resorting to violence, but your parents had this knack to press his buttons so fast that is was maddening. Why wouldn't they give up? Why would they keep messing with his life? But most important, how did they find you?

His scowl only deepened upon seeing your parents there, leaning against their expensive car with a small group of people. Some were armed too.

"Where is my daughter?" Your dad spoke as he approached the sturdy metal doors. The name Hacienda O'Hara engraved in them. Miguel towered over him, but your father didn't back away.

"I've allowed her eloping nonsense enough as it is. It's time for her to return with us."

His tone calm, yet sneering.

"What makes you think I'll give my wife back to you, sir?"

"Your wife?!" Rosaura huffed as she came into picture, her cashmere poncho draped around her shoulders as she got off the car, "How dare you?! Give my daughter back, you lowlife!"

Miguel scrunched his nose in disgust at her words.

"Sorry ma'am, can't hear your yapping from here."

"Canalla! You think this door will protect you?" (Scumbag)

Mahonagy eyes flashed red at her threat.

"¿Se atreve a amenazarme en mi propiedad, señora? Ya no estamos en su rancho. Aquí mando yo. Así que bájele sus tres rayitas."

(You dare threaten me in my property, ma'am? We're no longer in your estate. I'm the one that runs things here, so tone the fuck down)

His voice lowered an octave, there was no kindness or politeness behind it.

"A mí no me hablas así, desgraciado -" (You won't talk to me like that, you jerk!)

"Pues le hablo como quiero! ¡¿Cómo la ve?! Ya me hartó usted con sus insultos pendejos." (I will talk to you however I want. How about that? I'm sick of your fucking disrespect.)

"Me devuelves a mi hija a la de ya!" (Get my daughter back now!)

"I'm her husband. Deal with it."

"I'm not letting my respectable daughter to give birth to a wretched-"

A gunshot.

Your mother and the small group stilled as Miguel fired his gun at your dad's words. The men behind him pointed his weapons at the door.

"Listen to me very carefully, suegrito." His nostrils flared in rage and his teeth bared as he sneered the word, "You had the guts to come all the way here, to disrespect me, my wife and my unborn child."

He inched closer and as tempting as it was to grab your dad by the collar he was sure that would make things incredible sour for both sides. His fist clenched in anger as he put the gun away.

"My patience can stretch for so long, and you're testing it's limits too fucking soon. Don't make me the bad guy."

His jaw clenched as your dad gulped discreetly.

A round of collective gasps echoed as you approached with a disturbed look upon seeing the guns in the worker's hands. Vicky calling for Miguel as Joseph and a group of armored men trailed behind you.

"Perdóname, mijo. Se me escapó cuando escuchó el disparo" (Im sorry, mijo. She escaped once she heard the gunshot.)

Your name was chided by your dad

"Pack your things and let's go home. This... foolishness has embarrassed us long enough."

"I am home." Your tone though calm, seethed with brewing anger. Your dad's workers put their guns down.

Your mother scoffed, "I know you, sweetheart. You will get tired of him once he has no money and will return to-"

"Then you know shit about me. You think I am like you?! You might be the one that birthed me, but I do not owe you respect."

Your mother's eyes widened in shock

"He washed your brain, didn't he?"

"No! Stop blaming him for your wrongdoings! Just look at yourselves! You bring armed people to a private property, and expect me to just go with you after all you said?! Are you insane?!"

"I will not tolerate this-"

"You think I care?"

Miguel had to get in between you and the gate, but you weren't having it. Your anger had been simmering long enough to just let it slide.

"I am married to him! Why can't you accept that?! Legally married to him!"

"It means nothing if the church doesn't recognize your marriage"

"Like if I want to." Your father's eyes widened, clearly disturbed at your words.

"He isn't worthy of you!" Your mom spoke and you laughed

"Not my fault you never met love, mom. Not my fucking fault you settled with the first man that gave you a couple of bucks your way and you mistook that for love!"

Every words just made your mother recoil in horror, just as your dad.

"You brat!"

"Cerecita, let's go-"

"No! Miguel. I'm tired of this." You raised your hand and showed your ring to them.

"I'm his wife. I love him. And I am home. Like it or not, It's my choice, is that clear?"

"You don't know what you're saying-"

Your dad tried to reason but your mother's temper seeped through your bones.

"I don't want to see you ever again around here. So get lost!"

"You will come home to us, one way or another. And if I have to ruin this place, so be it."

Your dad spoke to both Miguel and you, to then turn around and get in the car.

"I wanna see you try, cabr��n " Miguel’s tone warned.

With those words, you were taken inside by a concerned Vicky despite your mother calling you over and over. Miguel and the other workers didn't leave until you were gone out of sight.

" No matter what I do, they won't leave me alone, Vicky."

" You're safe here, mi niña. None will let you harm come to you. Much less Miguel!"

"I just keep adding problems to his life" You hiccuped as Victoria poured some hot tea onto your cup along a natural blend of Herbs that would put you to sleep.

Your nerves were too fried to think rationally. The party was long over, soured by the family feud.

"Stop saying stupid things, corazón. now drink this. You're too nervous and that is not good for the baby."

This is by far how everyone imagined to end the day. You specially.

Even though Victoria's words made you a little ease, it was your dad's words that you secretly feared.

You knew he was a man of word. He'd do anything to make you come home, even if that meant to ruin Miguel’s hardwork.

"Where is Miguel?"

"He'll be here soon. Just making sure your parents left."

You hiccuped and wiped your eyes, anger slowly melting in tears.

"I'm so sorry, Vicky. I knew they were complicated but this... This is pure spite."

Vicky prepared your bed and then tuck you in.

"Todo va a estar bien, ya vas a ver." (Everything will be fine, you'll see.)

"What if they try to harm Miguel?"

"They better not, cause that means they'll have to deal with me. Me ves toda viejita, pero sé mis trucos." (You see me old and stuff, but I know my tricks.)

"You have us now, cariño. Get some rest, ok?"

"I need Miguel."

You'd mumble sleepily, the herbs worked wonders in your brain, relaxing you a bit too much after you finished the cup.

"He'll be here soon." Vicky rubbed your lower back until you were asleep and, then left your room with a sigh.

She knew your family was complicated but witnessing the real deal made her worry. You had all the right to be anxious and concerned as they were unpredictable.

Bloodshed was avoided. Miguel was wise enough to not instigate a fight and makes thing worse as they were.

He approached while he instructing Joseph and the others to keep an eye on the entrance.

"Miguel?"

"Ahorita no, Ma." (Not now, ma)

Vicky sighed and took him by the arm gently.

"Mijo, I know things are difficult right now. But she needs you. She is scared."

"I can't be at ease knowing that they can return anytime soon and try to take her away again."

"They won't, Miguel."

"How are you so sure? I don't even know how they got this address."

Vicky sighed but held him by the waist. His arm went around her shoulders.

"Cause I know you. If it's not your stubbornness, it's your love that will convince them to leave you alone."

"I hope so, cause I'm tired of this stupid feud. And I won't tolerate their disrespect in my own house."

He sighed and leaned on Vicky. Your bravado made him smile softly

"Did you see how Cerecita..."

Vicky chuckled

"¿Ves que si te ama? Ella tampoco dejaría que algo te pasara." (See? She loves you too. She wouldn't let harm come to you either)

"I need to increase the security. Be right back."

Vicky stared him with pained eyes.

Everyone knew this was far from over. But right now, her and Miguel’s priorities were simple. Keep you and the baby safe.

After a couple of hours of switching rounds, he went to bed. A deep sigh came his way upon watching you sleep.

You didn't back down from the challenge. Something he had to thank your dad for. Your words only invigorated him to fight harder for you, just like you fought for him.

Miguel changed into something more comfortable and curled next to you, his arms embracing your body as he kissed your hair.

Your breathings evened as he laid there, next to you whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

"Nadie me va a alejar de ti. Te lo prometo." (None will keep me away from you. I promise.)

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #Ranchero Miguel 🐎#Mi Dulce Cereza #La Novela #t writes✨#miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara fluff #Spotify

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frannyzooey · 1 year

Text

Middle of the Night

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: He comes to you for comfort.

A/N: Thank you to my loves @mourningbirds1 @the-ginger-hedge-witch and @krissology looking this over for me ❤️

—

Tucked onto his side with his broad back facing you, you crawl into bed and press your nose into the curls that cover the nape of his neck, breathing him in. Your hand maps his firm shoulder, running a well worn path over the curve of his side and his calloused hand grasps yours, pulling it close.

You sleep, because you’re exhausted, and so does he.

It’s the middle of the night when he finds you.

When his guard is down – not all the way, it’s never down all the way – but when the fog of sleep dulls his brain and his heart and he’s reduced to nothing but a man seeking out your warmth in the dusky black of the room, that’s when he finds you. His hands pulling you close, his mouth seeking yours.

Those hands that deliver brutality when needed, that curl into fists or mold around his rifle - a semblance of their old tenderness comes out in his touch when he guides your sleep limp limbs around him; the wet heat of his mouth felt against your skin when he tucks his face into the crook of your neck and inhales.

His strong arm winds around your side, holding you tight and he pulls you from sleep when you feel the drag of his lips as they pepper light kisses along the curve of your jaw. You shift your face down to his and he looks up, his mouth meeting yours.

It’s a languid kiss, a sleepy one laced with a low simmering need. His tongue dips into your mouth, opening you up for him and your fingers brush against the wiry hair of his gray streaked beard, pulling him closer. You shift to face him fully, fitting your body along his and he reaches down, impatiently tugging away the blanket you’ve wrapped yourself in. He needs that barrier to you gone and when it is, his thigh finds the space between your own and he rolls you onto your back, deepening the kiss with a low sound at the back of his throat.

If you had met before all this happened, there might have been a time where you did this sort of thing with affectionate smiles on your faces, kissing each other breathless through teasing words. There might have been open delight in the act as you had fun with it, laughing quietly into the dark room as you peeled off each other’s clothes in a playful, clumsy fumble.

But you met now, and so you still peel the clothes off, but there is no laughing. No silly words, no teasing. There is only raw hunger for each other as you find every inch of his firm, bare skin as it’s revealed and he does the same for you.

“Joel,” you breathe into his kiss when you’re naked and pressed against each other tight, his cock a stiff heft against the curve of your ass as you wind your legs around his waist. He’s a heavy weight on top of you, forcing you into the mattress and you relish the security in his warm drape; tuck it away for later, when you’ll need to recall it. His beard scrapes the palms of your hands, your hold shifting up to thread into his hair.

Pulling back just enough, he brings his fingers up to his mouth with a suck, wetting them. Your eyes watch the lewd gesture before he reaches down between your bodies and finding the pearl of your clit, he rubs it with a firm, practiced, slick glide, pressing his mouth back against yours.

Arching into his touch, you keen underneath him and your thighs open wider, your hips rolling lightly against his hand.

“Fuck,” you exhale, a blooming heat building. “Keep touching it like that. Keep –”

“I know what you need, pretty girl. I know.” The lilt of his accent slips deeper, pairing with the husk of his low voice.

He does know. Keeps doing it until you start to force your hips against the swift circle of his touch, keeps doing it until you tell him that you need him and that’s when he slips himself inside: when your achingly empty cunt flutters around the snug fit before pulling him deep. His hand, still damp with your slick, finds your own and with a strength you’ve seen him display in so many situations, he circles your wrist, forcing it into the bed above your head. You wiggle it free, lacing your fingers with his.

He fucks rough. Bruising strokes, harsh snaps of his hips, ones that betray his need for you. You take everything he gives, his hand tightening its hold on yours while the other one cups your cheek, making sure your mouth stays on his.

You squeeze his bicep, moaning into his hungry kiss and lift your hips so he can slide in deeper.

“Goddamn you feel so good,” he groans, breaking the kiss to rest the bridge of his nose against your cheek. He grunts with every deep push forward, the puff of hot air trapped against your skin. “I don’t ever wanna stop.”

“Don’t,” you encourage him, tipping your head back into the pillow and he takes the opportunity to lave his tongue along the hollow of your throat, just before biting down on the juncture of your shoulder. When you hiss, he smiles against your skin.

“The only good part of my day is this. You, and this pussy right here,” the last words punctuated with a harsh fit of his hips into your own.

Slipping your hand from his hold, you reach down and follow the dip of his spine to dig your fingers into the meat of his ass, forcing him deeper. His mouth follows the swell of your breasts, his tongue curling over a hardened peak before drawing it into his mouth with a suck. His hand cups the bottom of it, greedily pushing the plump of it up and he opens his mouth wider. His teeth catch, before his tongue soothes.

“Did you think about this today?” he asks, his hand skating down to curl around the bend of your knee, tugging it higher. “Did you want it?”

“Yes,” you admit, moaning the word. “I always do.”

When he’s away - either physically, or when he withdraws into the depth of pain that haunts his memories - you do miss it. Miss this version of him that allows himself to seek comfort in someone else. To love with his body, even if he’ll never say the words.

“I wanna be sore tomorrow. I wanna remember. I wanna think about how deep you got, how good you fucked me, Joel. Make me sore, okay?”

A depraved part of his soul, the one that’s grown to cover up the lighter version of him that used to exist, responds instantly to the words and he growls, fucking into you harder.

“Like this?” he asks, breathless and forceful. His hips snap forward, again, again. “Like this?”

Yes, you cry out for him. Please.

The old mattress you sleep on rhythmically thudding against the wall, black creeps around the edges of his vision. His gaze fixes on your open mouth, your plush lips, your clenched shut eyes and he fists the worn sheet, using it for leverage. He fucks you like he wants to bury himself inside you and sensing what he needs, you curl your arms around his shoulders, tugging him close.

I’m right here, I’m right here, you chant in a whisper, right into the shell of his ear.

“Goddamnit,” he groans loudly, and then again, much lower, almost to himself, like he can’t believe how good you feel. “Goddamn.”

When you come, he groans low when he feels it like a tight fist around him, all the way down to the base of his cock. You’re so wet there’s an audible sound between you as he fucks you through it and he closes his eyes with a frown, trying to last as long as he can. Sweat gathered where your limbs are pressed together, he never wants to leave the flushed heat of your body and waiting until the very last second, he pulls out and spills hot along the inside of your thigh, streaking it with pools of white.

Then, it’s quiet again.

His body relaxes on top of yours, letting you soothe it. Your nails drag over his back, your fingers kneading into the base of his spine and he melts with a low, content groan.

This man. The man everyone is afraid of. The one who delivers blunt, efficient violence when it’s needed. The one who is ruthless and hardened, who will stop at nothing to survive and protects what is his: he’s none of those things right now; his arms pushing beneath your body to hold you close. His cheek rests against your thrumming heart and his breathing evens out, slowing into a steady, deep pattern.

Then, he’s asleep.

Looking at him in the dark, you wonder how he used to be. Was he funny? Did he joke? Did he have someone to love? Did he have a wife? A family? Did he like movies, or sports, or books, or whatever people did back when they had time for anything else but just surviving? The anger that he bundles up inside of him, the one that pours out in his narrowed gaze and tight jaw and bursts out of his fists - did it always live there? Or did the infection infect him too, only in a different way?

These are questions you’ll never know the answer to. You won’t ask, and you know he wouldn’t tell. It’s a mutual understanding between the two of you: what’s the sense in talking about the past, when it only brings more pain into a world where that’s all there is?

Better to not think of it. Better to savor the small moments when you get them, like the one you’re having right now.

He hasn’t moved, his face relaxed in slumber, but his arms are still tight around you as if he’s afraid you might leave him in the night. His unconscious body betrays him — just like his actions, instead of his words.

The edge of your mouth curls up, your hand brushing back a lock of hair from his forehead and you admire the scarce seen softness in him for a moment, eventually closing your eyes.

#joel miller/you #joel miller/reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #tlou joel #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal character fic #pedro pascal

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urfavoritewriter · 7 months

Text

Beachside Appetite

Content: M/?, Male Vore, Male Pred, Digestion. Likes and reblogs are very appreciated!

Brandon lounged on the sandy shores, the gentle hum of the beach around him. The sun kissed his tanned skin, a light sheen of sweat making it glisten in the afternoon light. The serene lull of the waves crashing in the distance, children’s laughter, and distant chatter, were the perfect background noise for his relaxation.

Beside him, an empty towel and a few discarded personal items—a pair of flip-flops, a novel, and sunglasses—were the only testament to the beach-goer who had once occupied the spot. That, and the distinct, rounded bulge in Brandon’s stomach.

He adjusted his position slightly, propping himself up on one elbow, the sand molding to accommodate the added weight of his recent indulgence. His free hand lazily traced circles on his swollen belly. "You know," he began, addressing the mound with a smirk, "I always did say the beach was the best place for a snack."

From within, a muffled groan responded, the contours of his belly shifting faintly in protest. Brandon simply chuckled, enjoying the sensation of the beach-goer squirming inside him. The movements caused his taut skin to ripple slightly, drawing the curious glances of a few nearby sunbathers.

A playful breeze swept through, carrying the tang of salt and the tantalizing scent of sunscreen. Brandon tilted his face up, relishing the feel of the sun on his features. "You should be thanking me," he mused aloud, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. "I mean, you get the best beach view, nestled comfortably inside me."

He sighed, stretching out his limbs, the hot sand gritty beneath him. His belly, with its pronounced bulge, stood in stark contrast to his chiseled abs and toned muscles. But Brandon didn’t mind. In fact, he found it rather... appealing. A testament to his power and dominance.

Feeling a bit more playful, he gave his belly a firm pat, eliciting another muffled protest from within. “Shhh,” he whispered, teasingly pressing a finger to his lips, even though his occupant couldn’t see it. “Let’s not make a scene. After all, I'm trying to enjoy my day at the beach.”

The afternoon sun climbed higher, casting its intense golden rays on the beach. As Brandon continued to bask, his skin warmed, and the bronze tan deepened. The sounds of the beach grew louder, the frolicking beach-goers adding to the merry ambiance. Yet for the one inside Brandon's belly, the surroundings were a stark contrast to his situation.

The temperature inside the confines of Brandon's stomach rose steadily, and the muffled, desperate movements from within grew more pronounced. The tightness was oppressive, the thick muscular walls of Brandon's insides pressing in from all sides, leaving little room for maneuvering.

However, for Brandon, each squirm and wriggle was like a gentle massage, a rhythmic motion that he could feel from deep within, making his relaxation even more pleasurable. He could almost visualize the poor beach-goer, trapped in his heated, constrictive prison, the tightness increasing with each passing moment.

Occasionally, he'd feel a particularly strong push or a kick, and he'd simply chuckle, giving his belly a soft, admonishing tap. "Easy there," he'd drawl, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards in amusement. "I know it's hot, but it's summer, after all. Besides," he added, a teasing note in his voice, "this is what a real beach body feels like."

The scent of coconut oil wafted through the air as Brandon applied a generous amount to his skin, making sure not to miss a spot. His fingers lingered on the surface of his belly, tracing the faint outlines of the person inside. Each time his fingers brushed against a protruding elbow or knee, he'd smirk, reveling in his dominance. "See? A personal sunblock application," he whispered, his tone dripping with mock sweetness. "I really am taking good care of you."

But inside Brandon's gut, the heat was relentless. The combination of Brandon's natural body warmth and the scorching sun made for an unbearable sauna. The beach-goer's struggles grew weaker, exhaustion setting in from the oppressive environment and lack of space. But Brandon, seemingly oblivious to the plight of his captive, simply continued to luxuriate in the sun, his body and mind at complete ease.

As the day wore on and the shadows began to lengthen, Brandon felt a rising pressure in his chest, the result of the slow digestive process and the air trapped within. With a casual tilt of his head, he released a deep, resonating burp, the sound echoing slightly in the relative quiet of the late afternoon beach.

"Heh, excuse me," he chuckled, though there wasn’t really anyone around who seemed bothered by the sound. If anything, a couple of beach-goers nearby simply looked over with a mix of amusement and mild surprise.

Brandon's hands, strong and sun-warmed, settled once again on his belly, applying a gentle pressure and kneading it in slow circles. The motion elicited a few more feeble squirms from within, which only made Brandon's smirk grow wider. "You've been quite the companion today," he mused aloud, squeezing the bulge slightly, imagining the increased discomfort it would cause for his involuntary guest. "But all good things must come to an end."

Slowly, with the languid grace of a big cat, Brandon pushed himself to his feet, brushing the sand off his back and legs. He took a moment to stretch, every muscle in his well-defined body flexing and rippling under the sun. He caught sight of a few friends setting up a net for a game of beach volleyball nearby, the ball bouncing in the soft sand.

Grinning, he made his way over, calling out, "Need an extra player?" As he approached, he couldn't resist adding, "I've got a bit of added weight today, so I might be a bit slower," patting his belly with a wink. The laughs and jeers of his friends carried through the air, but deep inside him, the dread of what was to come intensified, as the prospect of a vigorous game of volleyball promised only more jostling and discomfort for the unfortunate beach-goer.

#male pred #male vore #digestion #beach vore #hunk pred #m/?

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janaispunk · 1 month

Text

when we go crashing down

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

summary: And when we go crashing down, we come back every time.

word count: 808

tags/warnings: explicit smut -> mdni, angst, toxic relationship (situationship), cheating, able-bodied reader, Dave pulls her hair, no use of y/n, unprotected p in v, a hint of rough sex, a hint of choking, no happy ending (i’m just as shocked as you are)

a/n: another drabble for @beskarandblasters’ taylor swift drabble challenge, this time based on the song style. i hurt my own feelings with this one ngl. we’re entering my angsty era i’m afraid.

follow @janaispunknotifs for fic updates and find my full masterlist here :)

dividers by @saradika-graphics 🤍

You’re shivering, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, until the familiar car comes into view, headlights swinging over the dark parking lot.

Your heels click on the ground as you’re walking towards it and get in. You can only make out the silhouette of Dave’s face, the strong shape of his nose, the pout of his lips. His jaw is clenched, his hands gripping the wheel tightly. He’s tense, agitated, just like he always is.

“You have to stop calling me.”

He’s stern, his voice carefully controlled.

“You could stop picking up.”

You know that he won’t. Just like you won’t stop calling.

Silence stretches between you as he speeds through the dark night. The drive always feels like forever, and not long enough at the same time.

His wild eyes keep flickering from the road to you, taking in your face, the red lipstick that’s only a bit messy at this point of the night, the tight little skirt that’s leaving most of your thighs bare.

The familiar electricity sparks between you. Just like it always does.

He follows you into your apartment, a tangle of limbs, eager fingers pulling up and tugging on garments. He traps your body against your door, pressing your back into the hard surface. His coat is in a heap on the floor, his pants pulled down just enough, your skirt pushed up. His lips against your mouth are hungry, just as demanding as his hands, as his thrusts when he sinks into you.

It stings, the stretch around him, but the pain of him leaving without a word, traces of your lipstick all over his face, is worse.

Two weeks later, you don’t even make it out of the car. He had refused to come up with you, so you climb over and straddle him in the driver’s seat.

His resolve crumbles immediately, his fingers grabbing at every part of you that he can reach.

You ride him until your thighs are burning, but you’re chasing the high that only he knows how to give you.

One of his hands wraps around your throat, his hips pistoning upwards, his cock hitting a spot so deep inside of you that it brings tears to your eyes.

“Stop calling me,” he snarls.

You glare at him, breathless, but still meeting his every thrust.

“Do you really want that? Do you want this to stop?”

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to.

The next time, he’s out of the car before you can get in. His hand closes around your wrist, pulling you back into the club, through the crowds of people and straight into the bathroom.

“I told you to stop,” he growls as he bends you over the sink and pushes your skirt up.

He keeps a firm grip in your hair, holds you up while he pounds into you from behind. Your eyes are glued to the mirror, to the reflection of the both of you.

You look good together, you think. He’s like a daydream, dark eyes glinting behind you, his breath panting, his hair a mess.

Your heart aches in your chest when he drops you off. You know that it will never lead to more than this, you’ve tried. You can’t control it, helplessly watching the both of you go round and round each time.

A couple of weeks go by and you don’t call him. He glares at you the next time you slide into the passenger seat, asks where you’ve been. You went home with someone else the last few times, you admit. He grits his jaw, his lips curling into a scowl.

“Don’t try to tell me that you’re not seeing anyone else. I know about Carol.”

It hurts, saying her name out loud.

“That’s different,” he mumbles. There’s no real conviction behind his words.

“It’s not and you know it.”

He fucks you on your couch this time. It’s softer than usual, the cushions in your back almost making it feel like you’re in bed. It’s dangerous, too close to something intimate, to something more. It makes you long for something that will never be, but you don’t tell him to stop. Let yourself pretend, even if just for a few moments.

It’s not until he’s out of the door that you realize he didn’t tell you to stop calling him this time.

The last time you get into his car, you know that something is wrong. The tension is rolling off of him in waves.

When he asks you to not contact him anymore, he sounds different, resigned. You know that he means it this time.

“Carol’s pregnant. I– we’re getting married.”

You swallow, hard. Eyes wide open, unblinkingly staring straight ahead into the darkness. A curt nod, a quiet hum of understanding. You always knew this day would come.

“Just take me home.”

thank you for reading 🤍 if you liked this, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask, it absolutely makes my day!

#janas fics #dave york #pedro pascal #dave york fanfiction #dave york smut #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x f!reader #dave york x female reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedrostories

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cherryrainn · 9 months

Note

cuddle headcanons with our beloved cole cassidy, hanzo shimada, and junkrat!

OKAYYYYY IM SO EXCITED FOR THIS

☽ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ ༵ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰

— cuddle chronicles

cuddle headcanons with cassidy, hanzo and junkrat.

COLE CASSIDY ♡

when cuddling with cassidy, you'd find yourself enveloped in his strong arms, feeling his warmth and the sense of security he exudes.

he might pull you closer, as if shielding you from the world, his calm presence making you feel safe.

cassidy can be quite playful with those he's close to. while cuddling, he might crack a joke or make a lighthearted remark, his signature cowboy charm shining through.

his calloused fingers would trace patterns on your back, their roughness contrasting with his gentle touch. it's as if he's silently reassuring you that he's there.

cassidy's occasional cocky attitude might manifest even during cuddle time. he might smirk and playfully boast about how he's 'the best cuddler in the west', all while squeezing you closer to him.

he might rest his chin on top of your head, his beard tickling your forehead.

just like he treats his weapons with care, cassidy treats you with gentleness and respect during cuddles.

cassidy might tilt your chin up to meet his gaze. his scarred eye holds a softness that's reserved only for you, and in that moment, you feel truly cherished.

tough cowboy on the outside, softie on the inside.

"you know you're stuck with me now, right?"

HANZO SHIMADA ♡

hanzo's serious and introspective nature might extend to cuddling as well.

he's not one to initiate cuddles readily, but when he does, it's a significant gesture.

his cuddles are filled with warmth and security, a quiet way of showing how much he cares for you.

due to his reserved personality, hanzo prefers cuddling in more private settings. whether it's a quiet evening at home or a serene spot outdoors, he feels most at ease when it's just the two of you.

hanzo's strong arms provide a sense of protection as he holds you close. you can feel his muscles tense and relax as he adjusts his hold, making sure you're as comfortable as possible.

his touch is gentle yet firm, reflecting his disciplined nature.

hanzo's company is soothing, even if he doesn't say much. often, his cuddles are accompanied by a comfortable silence. the two of you might watch the sunset or simply listen to the sounds of nature, the silence speaking volumes about your connection.

hanzo's preference might be to lay down together, side by side. he'll often pull you close, your head resting on his chest, and he'll wrap his arm around you. feeling the steady beat of his heart and his rhythmic breathing can be incredibly calming.

hanzo might unconsciously run his fingers through your hair as you cuddle, a soothing and comforting gesture.

"thank you for being the unexpected light in my life."

JUNKRAT ♡

junkrat's not the typical cuddler, but he has his moments. cuddling with him might involve a tangle of limbs and explosions-themed plushies strewn about. he might grumble about it being too sappy, but his mischievous glint betrays his enjoyment.

despite his wild exterior, junkrat gives surprisingly warm hugs. he might not admit it, but his tight grip and genuine smile show he values physical closeness.

he'd create a cozy corner in his hideout for cuddling. piled high with pillows and blankets, it's an explosion-free zone where you both can unwind.

for all his bluster, junkrat can be surprisingly cautious with his touches. he'd hover his hand over your shoulder before committing to the cuddle, almost as if he's not sure how you'll react.

he'd absentmindedly play with your hair, fascinated by its texture and colors. his fingers are deft, his touch gentle despite his typically explosive nature.

junkrat's cuddles are accompanied by his distinctive laughter, which often manages to light up the room even more than his explosive devices.

while cuddling, he might tell you silly stories.

if he's awake during the night, he'd keep watch over you while you sleep. his protective side shows as he softly brushes his fingers across your cheek.

every now and then, you catch him in quieter moments of introspection, and he pulls you in for a cuddle that's surprisingly tender.

"don't think i've gone all mushy on ya now."

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 9 months

Text

TAKE CARE OF YOU [8B]

Sugar Daddy!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Overall Warnings: slow burn, angst/comfort, power imbalance, age gap, possessive tendencies, eventual smut, #daddyissues, independent reader learns to let go and relax, emotionally constipated Joel Miller learns to be vulnerable; (more specific warnings to be added to individual chapters if necessary)

Chapter Word Count: 11,971

Summary: You spent your entire adult life supporting yourself and barely getting by. It’s why a life of ease offered to you by a mysterious stranger sounded so foreign and unbelievable. Joel Miller, dressed in flannels that had seen better days, didn’t look like the kind who could promise you the world on a plate, but he seemed desperate to help out. All he asks is that you let him take care of you. That wouldn’t be so hard. Would it?

[a/n: it's here, holy moly. I'm glad I split it up otherwise this would've been a 23k word chapter 😂 love all of you for reading though and double love the beautiful souls who leave me words of kindness!]

Chapter Specific Warning: masturbation (F), reader is a thirsty bitch (which like is totally fair considering Joel Miller is 🥵), fluff and my usual attempt at humor, angst (but like the 'please trust me as the writer babes' kind)

08: YOU'RE JOEL MILLER'S SUGAR BABY!

"in the mess of feelings, focus on what is important, what brings peace to your soul, and let all the rest go." -all is not lost

The room was sweltering. You were damp with sweat. It’s the first thing you notice when you slowly begin to awaken. The second thing you notice is the strong arm resting around your waist and the firm chest at your back. Your groggy sleep heavy mind reminds you that Joel and you had gone to bed not too long after you iced his hand for him. Granted, being tangled in his limbs was a new thing.

You took a deep breath and settled against him. Everything about this moment screamed comfort. The soft morning sunlight streaming through the window, the warmth radiating from Joel’s embrace, his soft breaths fanning against the back of your neck. You could spend eternity in his arms.

Your squirming hadn’t woken Joel, but his sleeping form shifted to match yours. Any leftover drowsiness you had vanished when you felt something firm press against your ass. It took you a beat to recognize what was pressing into you because there was no way it was what you thought it was. Joel gave off ‘big dick’ energy without a doubt, but this was significant enough that you had to be mistaken. You squirmed once more and Joel’s arm tightened around you, pulling you in closer, and there was no mistaking it now. The hard bulge pushing perfectly against you was his cock. Holy fuck. When Joel had said he was a ‘big man’ yesterday you thought it just meant his broad shoulders.

Joel let out a soft sigh, a content mumble, and in a panic you let your body go limp and closed your eyes once more. Seconds later, you felt Joel stiffen behind you⏤ sucking in a sharp breath through his nose. You kept your own breathing even and smooth as Joel stayed completely still. Finally, he slowly pulled his hips back, trying not to shift the mattress, and untangled his arm from you. You rolled over and continued to feign sleep.

“Jesus Christ.” Joel mumbled softly. You heard his soft steps padding across the room behind you, and you didn’t move until the bathroom door shut.

You rolled onto your back then and lifted your hands to cover your face.

Idiot, idiot, idiot. You chastised yourself. There was an ache in your core that you only had yourself to blame for. All these missed opportunities. You went to bed last night without kissing Joel. You woke up this morning and pretended to still be sleeping when Joel’s dick was literally pressed against your ass. The sound of the shower kicked on and your mind involuntarily conjured an image of Joel under a spray of hot water. The urge to slip your hand under your waistband and touch yourself was growing more and more overwhelming by the second.

After a glance to the door, your need shoved common sense to the back of your brain, trampling over it to get in control, and your hand slipped into your pants. This had to be fast and the absolute dripping desire you found told you that wouldn’t be tough to manage. You dragged your middle and ring finger up your wet lips to the apex where you let it curl around your clit in circular motions a few times. Your breath hitched and you pushed your fingers back down through your wetness to sink into yourself. With the memory of his cock pressed against you and his hot breath on your neck, you were already dangerously close to snapping. The pace you found with yourself was fast rather than the languid way you usually would pleasure yourself, and you let the heel of your palm grind against your clit. It was startling how quick and hard you came at your own hand with the image of Joel’s broad shoulders and rough hands in the forefront of your mind. The beginnings of a cry accidentally slipped from your lips and you bit down on the inside of your cheek to shut yourself up. Your hand lingered against yourself as you caught your breath and let the waves of pleasure ebb and flow over you.

The shower squeaked off and you sat up breathless, hand yanked out of your shorts. You could hear Joel moving around the bathroom and you struggled to calm your racing heart. As you shifted in place, trying to piece yourself back together, the feel of your now soaked panties was made more apparent and the back of your neck burned with a new warmth. You sent a silent prayer up to whatever deity may be listening that there wouldn’t be a noticeable damp spot on your sleep shorts when you stood.

Much sooner than you thought, the bathroom door opened and your spine stiffened to sit straight up with your hands resting in your lap. Joel stepped out, hair damp and slicked back, with a towel wrapped around his waist. His eyes landed on yours and widened, “Hey. Hey.” Joel cleared his throat and his hand fell to readjust the towel on his waist. “You’re awake.”

“Mhmm.” You hummed with a tight lipped smile. Joel stood in the doorway like a deer in the headlights and you felt a weird awkward tension. There was no way Joel heard you. Not over the sound of the shower. Plus, you were mostly quiet. The tension must be coming from somewhere else. You pointed your hand out toward him with a nod, “So, I didn’t kick you last night, right?”

Joel’s face cracked into an amused smile and he chuckled, “Not a bit. I’m impressed.” Joel came further into the room and nodded back toward the bathroom. “You need it? I can change out here.”

“Yes. Yes, please.” You slid out of the bed and tugged the edge of your shirt down a bit⏤ not that it helped in covering your shorts. Joel’s eyes trailed up your legs to meet your gaze and you tried not to feel self conscious in your morning state. Between the bed head and the state of your underwear, you felt like a spotlight was shining down on you.

Without pausing, you made a beeline to the bathroom. Before you got too far past Joel he caught you by the elbow and pulled you a bit closer. Your face burned warm under Joel’s stare. It was soft and warm, but underneath that was a hunger in his eyes that you were positive would remain burned into your memory forever⏤ haunting every dream you had of him. The corner of Joel’s lips twitched up. “I gotta say it proper.” He pinched your chin between his thumb and forefinger and traced the bottom curve of your lip. “Good mornin', sugar.”

“Uh, yeah.” You mumbled in a daze. Joel raised an eyebrow at you skeptically, and you shook your head with a small laugh. “I mean, good morning, daddy.”

“Good girl.” Joel approved. As if you hadn’t just touched yourself at the thought of him, you felt a new ache between your legs demanding attention. He tapped his fingers under your chin once and pulled away. “Go on. I wanna spend as much time with ya as I can 'fore I’m dragged away for work.”

You smirked and scrounged up every ounce of bold bravery you had in your body to reach out and set a hand on his bare chest. Joel sucked in a sharp breath and the look of hunger burned so hot you could’ve sworn you literally felt the heat on your skin. “You could always play hooky with me.”

“As temptin' as that is,” Joel cleared his throat and rested his hand on top of yours, allowing his thumb to rub against the back of your hand, “Tess'd literally castrate me if I skipped anythin' today.”

“Well, we can’t have that, now can we?” You teased before you even considered the words. Joel raised his eyebrows with a slight tilt of his head and your eyes widened at your own words. “I, uh, I mean,” You used your other hand to point to the suitcase, “I should… I need to get ready so we can… yupp.”

Joel squeezed your hand then lifted it up off your chest to press a soft kiss against the palm of your hand. At the simple touch, your entire body relaxed and you thanked that same deity you prayed to moments before that the hand you settled on his chest hadn't been the one you pleasured yourself with.

A part of you wondered if you were going to melt into a puddle right here and now. He nodded his head toward the bathroom with a small smile and let go of your hand. Your first step away from him was more or less a stumble. Joel chuckled and you scrambled to grab a swimsuit and cover from the suitcase before rushing away to compose yourself behind closed doors and out of view of those tempting, hungry eyes.

When you stepped out of the bathroom twenty or so minutes later, dressed for a casual day by the pool, you were met with quite the sight. Joel was in the process of putting on his watch, but his outfit was what caught your eye. Joel was going golfing apparently. He had on a pair of khaki slacks with an olive collared, short sleeve shirt tucked into it. The shirt was just tight enough to stretch across his broad shoulders and the sleeves clung tightly to his thick arms. A pair of sunglasses were hanging from his open collar.

“Hello, Tiger Woods.” You said appreciatively.

Joel glanced over briefly before doing a double take. His own eyes traced slowly down your form before confidently meeting your eyes once more. He chuckled, “Tiger Woods?”

“It’s the only golfer I know off the top of my head.” You replied and closed the space so you could reach out and run a hand down his arm. Joel’s eyes followed your hands' movements. “I like this look on you. Very preppy.” Joel’s gaze snapped to yours and he raised an eyebrow in question. You grinned impishly, “Golf Daddy.”

Joel laughed in amusement and shook his head. You looked around him to see his wallet was resting on the dresser by a black baseball cap. You frowned, “Are you gonna wear a hat?”

“Was gonna. Why?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen you in a hat before.” You shrugged. It just seemed a damn shame to hide Joel’s fluffy hair. Every time you saw him, you craved to drag your fingers through it. Not even in lust either. You just wanted to play with his wild slightly curled locks that seemed to have a mind of their own regardless of how Joel tried to shape it. Not to say you weren’t thirsty for this man. You also wanted to tug on his hair as he buried his tongue between your legs. The sudden and intrusive thought had a pang of desire cut through you. Jesus, at this rate you’d have to throw yourself into the pool head first just to cool off a bit. “Lemme see.”

Joel appeased your request and picked up the hat with an over exaggerated sigh⏤ as if you were asking him to carry the world. He pulled the cap on and tilted his head at you in question. Still doing whatever they seemed to want, his hair stuck out around the edges of the hat in half curls that you wanted to twist around your finger. “Well, sugar?”

“Okay. I guess I approve.” You grinned.

“Glad to hear it.” Joel reached out and set a hand on your waist to tug you a bit closer. “Ya know, I got a stetson at home. Does that meet your criteria or do I gotta get rid of it?”

You recognized the word and your eyes widened at the thought of Joel wearing an actual cowboy hat, “No, you don’t. You’re joking.”

“I’m from Texas.” He countered.

It was pathetic and sad the lengths you would go to see Joel Miller in a cowboy hat. The thought of Joel Miller in nothing but the cowboy hat flickered through your thoughts and you took in a slow breath. Fuck. Never mind throwing yourself in head first, you’d have to drown yourself in the pool to get these thoughts out of there. You cleared your throat, “I will allow it.”

“Really? Don't even gotta try it on for you or nothin'?”

“Well,” You shrugged, “I wouldn’t be opposed to a… a viewing.”

Joel chuckled and tapped his hand against your waist a couple times before grabbing his wallet and sticking it in his back pocket. He motioned for you to follow him. “C'mon.” You grabbed your phone and hurried after him. “You’re usin' up all our breakfast time droolin' over me.”

“I am not drooling over you!” You gave him a light push.

“Don’t worry.” Joel paused as you both neared the door and before you knew it his arm was wrapped around your waist to tug you into his side. He leaned down to whisper in your ear, “You got me all hot an' bothered too, sugar.”

Flustered and giddy, Joel whisked you away for breakfast.

The two of you ended up at the same little cafe as yesterday, but this time they were serving breakfast dishes rather than the more broad brunch option. Joel had apologized profusely for taking you to the same place since he didn’t have time to take you out of the resort to eat somewhere else. You found the whole situation hilarious because never in a million years would you have even thought to complain or be bothered by it. Hell, you didn't pay it a single thought until Joel brought it up.

“Can I ask for a favor?” Joel suddenly asked as the two of you left the cafe. Your eyes widened to a degree that you were sure was comical. All the time you spent with him, and he never asked you for a favor of any kind. Joel never requested anything. You were actually happy to hear him ask because you wanted to give him more.

“Anything, Joel.”

Joel chuckled but quickly cleared his throat. There was a look of anxiety written across his features, but when he spoke his voice still stayed strong and firm. “Stay in the Wynn today.” Despite broaching the topic as ‘asking for a favor’ there was a finality to his word that left no room for argument. “I’ll walk ya to the Wynn pool, I reserved a cabana there for you too, an' when you’re done just stay on campus.”

It wouldn’t be a difficulty. It wasn’t like you were being restricted to Guantanamo Bay⏤ this was the Wynn Resort in Vegas. There would be plenty to keep you occupied. You hesitated to respond to him though simply because you couldn’t puzzle out Joel’s expression. It wasn’t a difficult request, and yet Joel still had that nervous energy burning in his dark eyes. Almost as if he expected you to rebel against his request.

“Can I ask why?” Literally, there was nothing out of this building that interested you exploring as a solo errand, you came for Joel, but you were curious nonetheless.

“I hate the idea of leavin' you all alone.” Joel sighed. He readjusted the baseball cap on his head with a frown. “I really did try an' get outta this golf game, but Tess wouldn’ bite. Even Tommy was bitchin’ 'bout it.” He grumbled the last words with a tinge of annoyance.

You shook your head with a laugh and touched his arm. “Joel, it’s fine. I’m a big girl. I can find something to occupy my time until later today.”

“I know, but I brought you here to show you a good time, sugar.”

“You’re working. This is your job.” You tried to reassure him. Joel didn’t seem appeased, but he squeezed your hand and pulled you through the lobby. You leaned into his side with a smirk. “Besides, if you don’t go to work, how are you going to be able to afford to take care of me?” Joel’s face stretched out into a wide smile. His dimple was ever present and you couldn’t help but lift your free hand to poke him lightly in the cheek right over it making him chuckle. “I’m a needy girl.”

“You’re somethin' alright.”

“Something good?”

Joel rolled his eyes at your teasing smile and brought your hand up to kiss the back of it. “Somethin' absolutely incredible.”

Your cheeks warmed pleasantly at his words. Joel was so charming and forthcoming with his compliments, yet every single time he spoke your heart would flutter. You never tired of his words of praise, and it was probably because they were always said with so much sincerity and warmth.

Joel was walking you to the pool, you knew that, but you were surprised when he walked out of the building with you and into the pool area. He scooped up a couple towels when you passed the stand and then he led you to a cute, little cabana. It was close to the water so you wouldn’t have to travel far, but it looked like it sat on a more secluded side of the pool.

“Tonight, we have the work dinner, but afterwards we can go out.” Joel reassured in a firm tone. He had already told you about the dinner. It’d be a collection of other heads of companies and Joel warned you it would be dry and boring. “I promise.”

“I’m looking forward to dinner tonight.” You said and it wasn’t even a lie. He gave you a dry look. You shook your head and cupped his hand with both of yours to squeeze his. “I am!” You shrugged a bit in mild embarrassment as you admitted the truth. “I always look forward to spending time with you, Joel. No matter what we end up doing.”

Joel’s gaze softened, and you pressed your lips together and shrugged again not knowing what else to do. He chuckled and leaned forward until his lips found the skin right under your hairline. Joel lingered there and your eyes fluttered close as you took in a deep breath of him. The second he pulled away you were already missing his touch.

“I got my phone on me. You need anythin' at all, sugar, I’m one call away.”

You nodded and Joel lingered for a moment longer before making his leave. As you sat down on the chair outside the cabana, the towels he grabbed in your lap, you watched him go⏤ eyes raking up and down his frame unabashedly. When Joel reached the doors that would take him out of sight, he surprised you by turning around to give you one more glance. His gaze met yours and you spotted his smirk at the realization that you had been watching him go. You couldn't even find it in yourself to be embarrassed. Joel winked before slipping away and you flopped back onto the chair with a soft sigh.

God, you had it bad for that man.

You had come to Vegas for Joel, but you had to admit it was kind of nice to have some alone time. It had been a long time since you had sat by a pool and just soaked in the sun. Maybe a year ago now? Nathan and you had taken a trip to the beach one weekend. It wasn’t a bad trip. Hell, it was possibly one of the last times you were really happy with him. But, it was a far cry from where you were now. Sitting in one of the lounge chairs in the shallow end of the pool with a book in one hand and a drink in the other⏤ not a care in the world. That was the difference. Unlike the last time you sat by a pool, you weren’t thinking about work or rent or bills. You just enjoyed yourself.

“Hi, is this seat taken?”

You looked up from your book to see a woman pointing to the chair next to you. She was gorgeous with a white one piece that complimented her curves and her light brown skin tone. The woman wore a large sun hat with her black hair tied off in two braids.

“Oh, no. Go ahead⏤”

“Oh my god!” She chirped suddenly and you jumped in surprise at the squeal. She settled on the lounge chair but sat on the side of it so she could face you. “You’re that woman!”

You nodded blankly, “I am a woman, yes.”

She laughed and waved her hand. “My bad. Guess I should’ve been more clear. You’re Joel Miller’s sugar baby!” Your eyes widened and you just stared at her in shock. She paused in thought then snapped her fingers and said your name. This time your jaw dropped as the shock doubled. “You are her, right?”

“That…is me.” You replied slowly. You set your book and drink down on the side table and turned on the chair with a shake of your head. “I’m sorry. Who are you?”

“I go by Yo-yo.”

You pressed your lips together and glanced back at your drink. You only had the one pina colada so far, but it sure as hell felt you were wasted. What was going on? While you tried to puzzle out if you were having a stroke or not, Yo-yo settled in her chair and pulled a bit of sunscreen out of the bag she had set on her own side table.

“Yo-yo?” You questioned skeptically.

She glanced your way and rolled her eyes, “It’s a ridiculous name, right? I wasn’t about to use my real name. Plus, my sugar daddy liked it. You do what you gotta to get that bank.” She winked at you. “Am I right, or am I right?”

“I have so many questions.” You mumbled.

“Hm?”

“How do you know my name?”

“You're with Joel Miller. It's always a big deal. I mean, handsome bachelor, filthy rich, and that sexy accent and voice? Ugh.” Yo-yo groaned. “I am so jealous. My daddy is CEO of Simmons Construction. Very rich, but he’s 62 and it shows.” She finished rubbing sunscreen on her front and held the bottle out towards you with a sheepish smile. “Can I bother you with getting my back?”

You took the sunscreen and stood to rub it into her back like she asked. While doing so, you asked, “I know there’s this supposed ‘sugar baby’ network, but I’m not seriously this infamous am I? For you to know my name?”

“Normally, no.” You finished her back and she turned back around. You handed her the bottle. “But, not only did you nab the sexiest Texan to ever exist, but you also pissed off Rosalind Turby.” She laughed and you winced. Yo-yo shook her hand at you. “No, no! I’m not criticizing. I’m honestly impressed. Rosalind is such a cunt.”

Your eyes widened. “That woman is becoming a bigger part of my life than I thought she would.”

“Oh, if you stay in this game, baby, she’s your new god.”

“She’s that important?”

“Rosalind is Queen Sugar Baby.” Yo-yo rolled her eyes and pulled on a pair of sunglasses. “She’s been running this game for ages, and she’s very serious about her girls being the perfect ‘baby’. And if you’re not then she makes your life hell.”

You scoffed, “So, I pissed her off by not being a ‘perfect’ sugar baby?”

“No,” Yo-yo held up a finger to you, “You pissed her off because you took what she wanted.”

“Joel?” You cried. The woman had come to your bakery for her shot of him, yes, but you didn’t think she’d hate you enough to make you infamous around the community. “Seriously?”

Yo-yo pulled her glasses down the bridge of your nose to shoot you a wide grin and wink, “Can you blame her? God, Joel Miller has a face that was made to be ridden.” The weather was close to 100 degrees, you were cooking, yet still her words brought a whole new level of heat to your face. She pulled her sunglasses back up and moaned. “Girl, you have to tell me how good he is. There is not way he's anything less than fucking fantastic.”

The memory of his devastatingly large cock pressed firmly against your ass this morning made your breath hitch. Yo-yo continued to stare at you, as if waiting for you to elaborate on the dick you had yet to see, and you steered the conversation away. “So, do I need to worry about Rosalind showing up at my house with a meat cleaver?”

Yo-yo laughed, “Don’t worry about it. You’re not the only one on her shit list. She hates me too, and I’m not dead yet.”

“You too?” You asked. “Did you steal Simmons’ CEO from her?”

“Ugh, nobody wants that man. He’s basically satan. I’m doing the world a favor by keeping him away from other women.” She laughed. “No, no, she hates me because I technically ‘scam’ my daddies. Fucking ridiculous if you ask me.” She put the word in air quotations. “But, why shouldn’t I trick them? You can’t trust these men. They’re all just old pervs looking to wet their dicks.”

“Not all of them.” You said firmly. That wasn’t Joel. Yes, he was technically a sugar daddy, but that wasn’t what your relationship with him was.

Yo-yo held her hands up in mock surrender. She sat up and threw her legs over the side to face you once more. “Listen, you gotta look out for yourself. It’s easy to get lost in the relationship, especially if you’re actually attracted to the guy, but after a few daddies you realize they’re using you. So, why not use them? For example, Simmons buys me a lot of really nice things, but I don’t keep it all.” She smirked. “I sell it on the side. It’s barely even a scam considering he’s buying the stuff for me to have. That means I can do whatever I want with it. Daddies don’t like the idea of a baby saving up money for themselves though and Rosalind has a stick up her ass about it. But, hey, I got a nice little nest egg saved up for when Simmons decides 25 is too old for him and wants a younger girl.” She shrugged. “You should consider it. Purses and dresses and jewelry are all nice, but they won’t last.”

You twisted your lips at her words. Honestly, you thought what she was doing was smart. The situations between you were different though. Right? Joel cared about you. He wanted to take care of you. A sinking feeling filled your belly. Yo-yo suggested planning for the future, and realistically speaking… Did you even have a future with Joel? You were planning on initiating something, giving into the temptation that was Joel, but where would something like this go? You felt like there was real chemistry between the two of you, but that hardly meant he wanted you around forever.

“How…” You shook your head and hoped the negative thoughts would loosen and fall away. There was another question you had for her. “How were you so sure I was Joel’s sugar baby. He could've brought anyone with him.”

Yo-yo waved over a waitress. “Easy. We’re in Vegas for the same reason. To be shown off.” You furrowed your brow and she shot you a curious look. “You’re coming to the dinner tonight, right? With all the contracting bigwigs?”

“I…am.” You nodded.

“Good. I know the other two sugar babies that’ll be there and they take this ‘getting shown off by their daddy’ thing so seriously. It’ll be nice to have someone normal to talk to.” Yo-yo replied as the waitress reached you. “Yes, I’ll take a mai tai. You want anything? It’s on my daddy.” She smirked and wiggled a gold credit card in her hand.

“Sure, I’ll… take the same.”

Yo-yo continued speaking to the waitress and you settled back in your lounge chair. You and Joel were different. He didn’t bring you to Vegas to show you off. He brought you here to spend time with you. Granted, there was no reason he couldn’t do both. You shook your head. No, Joel’s intentions were pure. He took care of you, defended you, and he never once pressured you into anything you were uncomfortable with. Joel had given you no reason to doubt him.

“Joel didn’t bring me to show me off.” You said firmly once the waitress left. You wanted to defend him. Joel wasn’t like the guy she was with right now.

Yo-yo frowned and waved her hand at you. “I’m so sorry. I’m not trying to upset you, I swear. I don’t even know the man and obviously you do. Maybe he is the unicorn of sugar daddies. Caring and kind and genuine. Hell, I hope he is.”

“What we have is…” You almost said the word ‘real’, but you worried Yo-yo really would think you were just some doe-eyed, naive fool. “It’s different. I’ve never done this before, and neither has he, so we’re learning together. Just having fun and… What?” You noticed Yo-yo was giving you a look that could only be described as pity. “What? What is it?”

“Joel Miller has had a sugar baby before.”

You felt a chill run down your spine as you stared at her in dumbstruck shock. One of the things that put you at ease about this relationship was the fact that he was just as new to this as you were. The two of you sat in an awkward silence as the world continued on around you.

“Did he tell you that you were his first?” Yo-yo asked.

“No. Rosalind did.”

She nodded. “That makes sense. Rumor says the girl with Joel Miller was like us. Rosalind didn’t consider her legit.” You opened your mouth, but Yo-yo seemed to read your mind. “I don’t know much else. The only reason I know she exists is because when I was talking to a friend of mine about Rosalind's temper tantrum over you she mentioned this wasn't the first time Queen B lost her shit over Joel Miller.”

“That’s okay.” You mumbled.

Yo-you gave you a sheepish smile, “Hey, at least it wasn’t him who lied to you. That’s a good sign, right?”

Right. Joel never lied to you. But, it bothered you that he never mentioned it to you. Both of you discussed past relationships and he never brought up the fact that he had a sugar baby before you. In fact, the way he talked about how he was ‘lovingly bullied’ into this, and went on dates with other babies that didn’t go well, almost implied to you that you were his first. Yo-yo changed the subject, trying to cheer you up, and eventually the waitress returned with your drinks. You smiled and nodded when necessary in the conversation, but a part of your focus was still stuck on this news.

A doubt had been planted, and like a weed it’s roots crept deeper and deeper until it was anchored in place.

Yo-yo was fun. You liked her. In fact, you wished she didn’t live in Seattle because you would love to introduce her to Nima. They’d get along well. To a degree that was arguably dangerous to the LA region, but fun nonetheless.

You spent the entire afternoon with her and even got lunch with her when the sun became much too exhausting to bear for another second. She recommended a place on the strip that was renowned, but you stuck with your promise to Joel and asked if the two of you could stay in the Wynn. She wasn’t condescending or judgemental when you explained why. She actually agreed happily.

Overall, your day had been fun. The only issue being the lingering doubts about Joel. He texted you throughout the day. Little comments here and there either mocking the men he was with or asking how you were doing. Every sweet text reminded you of what Yo-yo said and then you felt sick with guilt over having anxiety about him to begin with. It was why you were dressed in your pajamas lying on your back in bed staring at the ceiling with your phone resting by your head.

“Listen,” Nima spoke through facetime, “You say the word, and I will use all my miles to fly out there right now and kick his ass for you.”

“Joel didn’t do anything wrong. He never lied to me. Rosalind did, technically.”

“He didn’t lie, but he also didn’t tell the truth.”

You shook your head, “He didn’t owe me that truth.” This was oddly working for you. Nima defended you while you defended Joel. Unorthodox, but that was kind of your life right now anyways. “Joel said he’d never lie to me and he hasn’t. That’s what matters.”

“Do you know any more about this other sugar baby? The one before you?”

You frowned at the phrasing and reminded yourself of the same things you were telling Nima now. Joel never owed you anything. There was no need for him to bring up the information, and you had never asked. You just assumed Rosalind was telling the truth and that was your first mistake.

“No.” You said. “Just that there was one, and Roaslind didn’t like her.”

“Okay, but at this point, have we met anyone that Rosalind does like?”

You shrugged, “Joel?” Nima laughed through the phone and your lips curled up at the sound. “Thanks for this, Nima.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” She said. You rolled over and picked up the phone to look at her. She was still in her office at work, but since it was already after five you assumed she’d be going home soon. “You can thank me after I beat the man senseless with a baseball bat.”

You shook your head, “He’s literally the boss of your boss, and you think kicking his ass is a good idea? It’s gonna be hard to keep your job after that, and I’m sure the letter of recommendation they gave you wouldn’t be all that grand.”

“Are you kidding?” Nima smirked at you confidently. “When you’re as good as I am at what you do then kicking your boss’ ass is absolutely an option. I get job offers on a weekly basis.”

“You’re such a badass.” You chuckled.

“I know.” Nima beamed. The sound of her office door opening made you pause and Nima glanced up from her phone to answer the question of whoever poked their head in. You sighed and let your head fall forward to rest on the bed. Joel would be back any minute now, and you should be getting ready for dinner. Before coming, back when you had been shopping, you asked Joel what kind of settings you had to dress for and he mentioned the dinner. With his help you had picked out a dress specifically for the dinner. At the time it seemed the usual amount of cute, but now your plaguing thoughts wondered if he helped pick it out because the whole point was to just show you off. “Babe?”

You lifted your head to see Nima was staring at you in concern. You offered her a sad smile, “I just wish I could turn my dumb brain off for like two seconds.”

“Your brain is not dumb.” Nima replied. “It’s smart and beautiful and kind and loving. It’s one of my favorite brains”

Your smile turned sincere, and you shook your head at her, “What would I do without you?”

“Well, for one, you’d have to buy your own baseball bat to beat Joel with.”

“I’m not beating him with a bat.” Nima opened her mouth and you cut her off. “And I’m not letting you do it either.”

The sound of the door chiming and being opened made you say quick goodbyes to Nima who forced you to agree to text her an ‘SOS’ if you needed her skills with a blunt object. She also took the time to assure you that she had a friend in Vegas who could definitely help hide a body.

“Hey, you here?” Joel’s voice called out.

You tossed your phone back onto the bed before making your way out into the main room. Joel had showered and changed out of his golf clothes after the game. You had still been poolside at the time. Then his afternoon was filled with work. He wore a plain dark gray, bordering on black, suit with a white shirt and a pink tie of all things.

“Pink?” You motioned toward him.

Joel readjusted the tie and gave a sheepish smile, “Fathers day gift from the girls. The color is a⏤ it’s an inside joke between us.” Joel nodded toward you with a furrowed brow. “Not that I’m complainin', 'cause I like the look, but pajamas aren’t really in the dress code tonight. Need some more time?”

“I uh…” You blurted with no prepared excuse in mind.

Whatever look you wore on your face though was enough to fill Joel’s with concern. Joel closed the few feet between the two of you and cupped your face. “You feelin' alright, sugar?” One of his hands crawled up to feel your forehead. “Sick?”

“No, I’m okay.” You shook your head. “I think I was just in the sun too long today.”

“Did'ya drink 'nough water by the pool?”

“I thought so.” You gave him a tight lipped smile. “Now, I’m wondering if that last pina colada should've been an ice water.” Joel returned the smile, but there was still worry in his dark eyes. “I’m sorry, Joel. I don’t know if I can do the dinner tonight⏤”

Joel shook his head, “Hey, don’ worry yourself 'bout that. Dinner doesn’ matter.” He gently tugged you toward the couch so he could settle you on the cushions. “Do ya need me to take ya to a doctor? I’m sure I can find an urgent care 'round here that’s open, and if not the hospital is⏤”

“Joel, no.” You said firmly. “Seriously. I’m just…tired, I think. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizin'.”

You twisted your lips in guilt. Joel was paying you to keep him company and you were bailing on the main event. He was paying you. You didn’t often think those words because it left a bitter taste in your mouth. Joel brushed some hair from your face.

“Can I get ya anythin' while I’m out?”

“No. I’m fine.”

“Alright.” Joel leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You got your phone?” When you told him it was in the bedroom, Joel fetched it and brought it back to you. “Call me if you start feelin' worse. I’ll be back later.”

You nodded, “Good luck at the dinner.”

Another wave of guilt washed over you as you watched the door shut behind Joel. In this kind of situation most people would probably be angry. Nima was angry. You were so conflicted that you couldn’t even be angry correctly. You flopped back on the couch and lifted your phone. A bullet point list had been made to keep your thoughts straight when you met with Joel for the first time. Maybe a pros and cons list would help you decide if you wanted to be angry, guilty, or just sad.

Pro: Joel made you happier than you’ve been in a long time.

Con: He was paying you which made you more of an employee than a friend or lover.

Pro: Not having to worry about your bills has taken such a weight off your shoulders. One you didn’t even know you were carrying.

Con: That was a lot of power to give him. If you quit your job like he wanted too then you’d really be reliant on him.

Pro: You were beginning to feel real emotions for this man, emotions you thought your ex had destroyed.

Con: If Joel didn’t share those real emotions you were going to get really hurt.

Pro: You were beginning to believe he did truly care for you.

Con: You had no idea if you were mixing that up with a man just showing interest in his sugar baby.

Pro: A part of you was starting to be okay with the sugar baby status. Relationships sometimes had really weird starts. People had met in weirder ways.

Con: If you really weren’t his first sugar baby, then the question remained. What if you were just one of many? You were young and poor and willing to let him control your life. It could just be what gets him off?

You stared at the list in front of you for another beat before mumbling a string of curses. That had somehow confused you more. This would be easier if you could detangle your feelings from this. View Joel in the same way Yo-yo views her sugar daddy. A means to an end. This even allowed you to jump his bones. You had no qualms with the idea of casual sex. It was like Nima had pointed out though, your last relationship had been serious and monogamous. Despite that, you truly believed you could handle a casual relationship. The issue was you already had feelings for the man, and you were bad at ignoring that.

It was approaching close to an hour since Joel left and you were still agonizing over your pros and cons list while Netflix played in the background, and you were half tempted to call Nima again. You only resisted because you knew if you called her again she’d take that as an invitation to meet you in Vegas ready to go to war. The sound of the door chiming startled you and you were half off the couch in panic when Joel stepped through.

“Hey, how’re you feelin'?” He asked. You stared at him blankly. In one hand he had a large brown bag and in the other a small bouquet of sunflowers in the other. “Sugar?”

“Joel!” You blurted and rose off the couch to greet him. “What’re you… The dinner! It can’t possibly be over yet.”

“Never went.” Joel set the bag on the nearby table and held the flowers out to you. “I asked the lady what flowers meant ‘feel better soon’ 'nd she said tulips, yellow roses, or sunflowers. Choice was obvious 'nough.” You took the bouquet and held them to your chest⏤ still speechless in shock. “Then I went to pick us up some food. It only took me so long 'cause of Vegas traffic an' I had to go off the strip to find a place.”

“But… But dinner?”

Joel grinned boyishly with a glimmer of excitement in his eyes, “My options were go to a stuffy dinner with guys I got no interest in seein', or have a night in with you.” He began to loosen his tie. “C'mon, sugar.”

You blinked at him. “Tess?”

“Will probably kill me.” Joel pulled the tie off with a shrug and gruffly added. “But she wants to kill me most days anyways.” He nodded to the bedroom. “Gimme a minute. I’m dyin' to get out of this damn suit.”

Joel tapped under your jaw with the side of his fist before heading to the bedroom. Even after he disappeared from view you stood frozen for another few seconds. Finally, you snapped out of it and walked over to the table. You set the flowers down and peeked into the bag to see the to-go food he mentioned. Carefully, you unpacked the bag and after the second box you realized it was Korean food. You froze again and felt a lump form in your throat. A while back, during a late night phone call, you had mentioned to him that Nima introduced you to Korean food by taking you home to meet her mother, and it had easily become a comfort food to you too. There was a Korean place a few blocks down from you where you’d pick up food on your way home on particularly bad days.

“I tried to order the soup you were talkin' 'bout, but you used the Korean word for it an' I sure as hell wasn’ gonna pronounce that right.” Joel spoke up from behind you. You spun to see him leaning against the doorway in a plain t-shirt and pajama pants. “So, I just described it to the woman an' she gave me the closest thing. Seaweed soup?” You nodded dumbly. “Good. Just in case I ordered a bunch of other stuff too.”

Suddenly, the pros and cons list you made didn’t matter all that much to you. Because right now, in this moment right here, Joel cared louder than the anxiety yelling in your brain. You dated Nathan for two years and he outwardly told you that he loved you. But before the two of you moved into together, when you had separate apartments, you paid for his rent when he lost his job, yet when you needed help covering your water bill once he claimed he wasn’t comfortable giving you so much money that early in the relationship. So much money being $100. When you asked him about one of his exes not only did he blatantly lie to your face about the last time he had seen her and after you found out he forced the three of you to get dinner together to prove whatever stupid point he was trying to make. And, right before you broke up, when you had caught the flu and begged him to pick you up some food from the place down the road, he refused because he said he didn’t like the smell of kimchi and didn’t want to go into the restaurant.

Your eyes filled with tears and Joel’s face fell. He pushed off the door frame in a hurry and pulled you into his arms. You buried your face into his chest and tried to bite back a sob. Joel soothingly cupped the back of your head, “Hey, you okay? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You murmured into his chest and shook his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be crying.”

Joel shushed you softly and pulled you back so he could meet your gaze, “None of that. It’s okay. You’re okay.” His hand cupped under your jaw as his thumb traced back and forth on the skin there. “Talk to me, sugar.”

You stared into his eyes and felt nothing by safety and warmth. “I’m just really thankful for this. For you. Just… Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to me, Joel.”

Joel’s lips curled into a soft smile, “What have I said 'bout thankin' me for things I wanna do?”

Rather than answer, you just held his gaze. Joel did the same and the air between the two of you felt charged. There was always an energy bubbling anytime you were with Joel, but this was stronger⏤ more tangible. His eyes darted down to your lips then back up. Joel was going to kiss you. You were so sure of it. When his eyes darted down to your lips again you let them part. Anticipation electric on your skin. Joel sucked in a sharp breath. He leaned in, but his lips didn’t land where you thought they would. Joel set a kiss on your forehead, right above your eyebrows, and lingered there.

He had kissed your forehead before, did so right before he left an hour ago, but this was more intimate somehow. Your eyes fluttered closed and you took in a slow breath before letting it out. Joel pulled his warm lips away from your skin and let his own forehead rest against yours.

Your eyes stayed closed as you soaked in the feel of his hot breath against your skin and a pang of disappointment shot through you. “Joel…”

“I know.” Joel’s voice was hoarse and rough. “I… I know.”

Slowly, you let your eyes open and found Joel with his eyes already on you. “It’s okay.”

“You are…” Joel locked his jaw and closed his eyes.

There was something holding him back. You saw it written all over his face. Maybe you should worry that this had something to do with what Yo-yo had tried to tell you. Ten minutes earlier and you would’ve. Your anxiety would have grabbed hold of it, written it in bold on your cons list, and never left it alone. But, right now you felt at peace. That’s what Joel brought with him⏤ a sense of peace and calmness to your very soul. And that’s what you wanted to bring to him. You wanted to take care of him.

Your hands lifted to cup his face and when his eyes opened you gave him a bright smile. “If we don’t eat now the food’s gonna get cold.” His jaw relaxed and he murmured your name. Just as he did to you, you nodded, “I know.”

Joel cleared his throat and caressed your face once more before nodding, “Come on. Let’s get some food in you, pretty girl.”

While Joel finished pulling out the food, you set the sunflowers in a vase that was probably only meant for decoration and filled it with water. A glance over your shoulder showed Joel setting the food up on the coffee table in front of the couch.

“I put the wine from last night in the mini fridge if you wanna grab it.”

“Yeah, sure.” You made your way over and grabbed two glasses while you were doing so. “I gotta see what bribe wine tastes like.”

Joel turned and shot you a skeptical look, “Bribe wine?”

“The Wynn gave you the expensive wine to bribe you into not telling all your rich friends that you and your guest got accosted in the casino.”

He shook his head, “That is not bribe wine.”

“Why are you so sure?” You set the wine glasses down on the table and began to look for the corkscrew. “Do you dabble in bribe wine often, Mr. Miller?”

Joel groaned, “Don’ you start with this Mr. Miller shit.”

“Why not?”

“Because last I checked,” Joel stepped closer as you used the corkscrew you found in a drawer to begin opening the wine, “You’re supposed to be callin' me somethin' else.”

You gave the cork a tug, but it didn’t budge. “Hm, I can’t possibly think of what.”

“Oh, you can’t?” Joel remarked. You shook your head and gave the cork another useless tug. He took the wine bottle from you and, without breaking eye contact, Joel popped the cork out with ease. You went to grab it from him, but he pulled it back with a tilt of his head. “Manners, sugar.”

The worst case scenario would’ve been an awkward air settling in the room around you after coming so close to kissing him only for it not to happen. That being said, Joel slipped right back into the familiar teasing and that made you sigh happily. You held your hands out, “Thank you, daddy.”

“Good girl.” Joel chuckled and let you take the bottle from him. As you poured into the two glasses, Joel scooped up the remote and sat down. You dropped down next to him and handed him his glass. He tapped it against yours. “Any requests?”

“I’m not picky. You can choose.” You took a sip of the wine then hummed. “Mmm, this bribe wine tastes amazing.”

Joel laughed but didn’t take his gaze away from the screen as he flipped through different options, “You’re impossible, ya know that?”

He picked a random Netflix original action movie titled ‘Triple Frontier’ and tossed the remote aside. The movie played in the background, but the two of you ended up talking through a lot of it as you pointed out different foods that Nima had introduced you to originally and he had picked up. When the meal had been finished, you were curled into his side still sipping wine half chatting and half watching the movie.

A moment of silence rose up between the two of you and after a second you filled it, “About the dinner I made you miss⏤”

“First off, you didn’ make me do anythin'.” Joel scoffed. “An' secondly, I swear to God, if you apologize again…”

You chuckled, “Okay, I won’t apologize, but we’re in Las Vegas, the city that never sleeps, and I have us sitting on the couch watching a Netflix movie.”

“This right here is literally my definition of a perfect night.” Joel shook his head at you.

You leaned against his shoulder and decided to mention your afternoon, “I, uh, I met one of the sugar babies that was gonna be at the dinner tonight.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. She goes by Yo-yo.”

“Doesn’ ring a bell…”

“I think she said her sugar daddy is Simmons? Of Simmons Construction?”

Joel groaned loudly and hung his head backward, “Jesus, Simmons? Girl gotta be a saint to put up with that bastard.”

“She did refer to the man as ‘satan’.”

Joel lifted his head and smirked at you, “See? You saved me from a night with satan.” You chuckled. “Zero reason to be apologizin’. I should be thankin' you.”

“I think it’s a shame I didn’t get to meet him.” You hummed. “It sounds like quite the experience.”

Joel sighed and took a long sip from his wine glass, “Yeah, well, there’s always next year, sugar.”

Your eyes widened at his words, but Joel didn’t even blink. It was like he hadn’t even realized what he just said⏤ what he inferred. That you’d be here next year. With him still. You shifted your gaze back to the TV and smiled to yourself.

After another few quiet moments, you pointed toward the TV with your glass, “That guy looks like you.”

“Him?” Joel asked skeptically. You nodded in confirmation. “I’m better lookin' though right?”

“Of course, daddy! So much better looking.” You nodded.

Joel chuckled and reached down to pinch your side making you squeal and nearly spill your wine, “Right answer, wrong tone, ya little brat.”

You settled back against him, and Joel didn’t hesitate to tuck you in under his arm.

When the movie ended, Joel clicked on whatever the first suggested movie was so something was still playing, but neither of you paid enough attention to even know the title. The hand behind your shoulder was drawing circles on your shoulder while telling you about how excited he was that his eldest daughter was coming to visit soon.

“Do you have something fun planned?”

“We gotta tradition where we go to the drive in theater. No matter what’s playin'. Just sit in the bed of the truck an' hang out.”

You grinned, “That sounds fun.”

“It is.” Joel nodded and grew silent in thought. You thought he’d follow his last statement up with something else about the girls, but he caught you off guard with something else. “I wanna kiss you so bad, sugar.”

It was a good thing you had already set down your glass of wine otherwise it would have slipped right out of your hands. You sat up so you could turn in place and face him on the couch. Joel’s eyes traced your features with a sigh. Slowly, you nodded, “Do you… Do you want to talk about why you haven’t?”

“I’m jus',” Joel lifted his hand and caressed your jawline with his thumb, “Tryin' real hard to be good.” You opened your mouth to argue that he didn't have to be, but Joel pressed the pad of his thumb against your bottom lip to stop you before a word even came out. “Nah, I gotta. I gotta be good.” He forcibly dragged his eyes up from your lips to your eyes. “I like what we got. I like this. If I do somethin' to fuck it up, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“And giving me just a little kiss is gonna do that?”

Joel’s lips curled into a melancholic smile, “I think you an' I both know if we start it ain’t gonna be just some little kiss, baby girl.”

It was the first time he had used that pet name towards you and you just melted. If he was trying to steer the both of you away from temptation, calling you ‘baby girl’ was not helping. “How do you know that this won’t just get better?” It kind of stung realizing the reason he stopped earlier was because he thought a physical relationship would ruin this. “Why do you assume that would fuck this up? I⏤”

“No.” Joel said firmly and he squeezed his hold on the side of your face at the same time for even more emphasis. “Not you. What I jus' said? I’m talkin' 'bout me. Me fuckin' it up. It comes from… from personal experience.”

You wanted more information. You wanted him to explain more. You wanted to ask him about the sugar baby that came before you. Was that the personal experience he was talking about? All those thoughts, and you somehow couldn’t get a single one out of your damn mouth.

“I’m only bringin' this up 'cause I don’ want you confused.”

“Confused about what exactly?”

“'bout how much I want you.” Joel replied. You attempted to swallow the forming lump in your throat, but it didn’t help. “I jus' wanna do right by you, sugar. An' that…that’s just gonna take a little time, okay?” You gave him a small nod. “Can we jus' stay what we are in the meantime? If… If you don’t wanna wait for me to get my shit together, if you wanna walk, I understand.”

“No. I’ll wait.” You blurted. The thought of Joel leaving your life was too painful to even consider. The man had carved a slot in your life, and his absence would be noticed⏤ not just financially speaking either. If you walked away, you would miss him badly. Waiting was hardly a cost you had to think twice about. Especially, since you’d still have him in the meantime. Maybe not in the entire way you wanted him, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. “If it means being with you, then I’ll happily wait.”

Joel pressed a chaste kiss to your temple before pulling you into a tight hug that you returned without hesitation. This wouldn’t be easy, but it was worth the effort. You pulled back and suggested changing the movie from whatever was playing to something the two of you would actually pay attention to, best of your ability at least, and Joel agreed. He grabbed the remote and pulled you into his side. The two of you were only a few options into the discussion when someone knocked on the door⏤ loud enough that it could probably be referred to a ‘banging’ rather than simply knocking.

“Did you order something?” You asked.

“No.” Joel rose cautiously and held a hand out for you to stay on the couch. There was a tension in his shoulders that worried you.

He only took a step forward when a female voice drifted faintly through the shut door, “Miller, I swear to Christ if you don’t open this goddamn door…”

Joel muttered a curse but his entire frame visibly relaxed. He glanced over his shoulder while approaching the door. “Whatever she says, jus' know I’m sorry for it.” You furrowed your brow at his words, but he explained no further. Joel tugged the door open and a brunette haired woman stormed in. Her light shade of hair was pulled back into a low, loose bun. A style thrown together just to keep it out of her face more than likely. She was around Joel’s age, if you had to garner a guess, and she wore a black form fitting dress that looked incredible on her, but you could see she wasn’t entirely comfortable in it. “Tess⏤”

“You son of bitch.” Tess pointed at him threateningly. She was shorter than him by a head, but Joel still reeled back with his hands held in mock surrender. “See? Can’t even fight back because you know you’re in the fucking wrong.”

“I’m sorry⏤”

“You know who I spent my night with?”

“Tess⏤”

“Putting up with Simmons, Crew, Han, and their trio of bimbo sugar babies.” Tess snapped. You frowned. Yo-yo was hardly a bimbo, she confided in you the reason she was saving up all that money was because she wanted to go back to college and then on to Law School, but she also told you she played it dumb around Simmons so you couldn’t fault Tess’ words. “All so you could⏤”

As if suddenly remembering why Joel had bailed, her light hazel eyes snapped to you. You stiffened awkwardly and not knowing what else to do, you lifted a hand in a pathetic wave, “Uh, hi.”

Tess stared at you for another beat before letting her eyes drag back to Joel in a look you could only describe as irritably smug. “Well⏤”

“Tess.” Joel snapped with fire in his voice. You finally looked away from Tess to glance at Joel. He was stiff again and you recognized the look of anger on his features with ease. “Don’t.”

Tess crossed her arms and scoffed, “Go get dressed. You’re getting drinks with the pricks.”

“I’m what?”

“I spent the last three hours pretending like I didn’t want to stab Simmons in the neck with my dinner fork.” Tess warned. “The least you can do is get that pretty little ass in a suit and go get one drink with him so you can discuss the Golden Plains plans.”

Joel locked his jaw and didn’t reply. Tess didn’t say anything further either. The two just glared at one another. She was sharp and cool ice while he felt like a wild and burning fire, yet it felt like an immovable object meeting an unstoppable force. Finally, Joel huffed angrily and shook his head.

“C’mon.” He grunted at you. He held his hand out as he walked toward the bedroom.

You began to stand, despite not loving the rough, grumbled command, but Tess shook her head. “No sugar babies allowed, per Simmons. Just the big boys for cigars and drinks.”

“What makes you think I give two shits what Simmons wants??”

“Play fucking nice, you ass.” Tess snapped. “You owe me.”

“Because you did your job at one dinner? I⏤”

“San Antonio 2019.”

Joel paused and scoffed, “Never let me live that fucking down.”

He waved his hand at her in irritation before disappearing into the bedroom. You heard the bathroom door slam shut and you jumped in place. The sound had been enough to remind you that you were now alone in a room with Tess. Slowly, you turned toward her to see she was already staring at you with the cold look she had pierced Joel with.

“Hi.” You said sheepishly and offered her a nervous smile. You introduced yourself, “Joel has told me a lot about you. I⏤”

“You two fucking?” Tess blurted. Your face burned and you opened your mouth to splutter out the beginnings of the answer, but she shook her head. “Guess not considering I’m finding you both on the couch fully clothed.”

You set your hands on your hips and cleared your throat, “I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

“Don’t care if we did.” Tess replied. She marched closer and you had to resist the urge to scramble back from the incredibly intimidating woman. “Listen to me right now because I’m only giving you this warning once.” Tess crossed her arms. “The Miller brothers get these dumb fucking ideas in their head, but once they pick one they’re like a dog with a bone. Can’t get them to shake it.” She narrowed her eyes at you. “I told him I thought this was a stupid ass idea, but like I said⏤ dog with a fucking bone.”

“Look, I⏤”

“I’ve known Joel for twenty years.” Tess said firmly. “He’s family. Him, the girls, his idiot ass brother. I’ve been taking care of them from the start and I don’t do well with strangers stepping in to take advantage.”

Your eyes widened and you shook your head, “No, no. This is a misunderstanding. I am not taking advantage of Joel.”

“So you paid for half this trip to Vegas?”

“Uh, no, but⏤”

“And he’s not paying all your bills?”

“Well⏤”

“Footing the cost of every single⏤”

“Hey.” You snapped to interrupt her and Tess’ eyes widened marginally in surprise. You swallowed nervously. Nima knew a friend that could help you hide a body, but there was something about Tess that told you she could drag you out to the desert alone and figure it out herself. “Yes, he is taking care of me, but it’s not just… I care about him. A lot. Joel means so much to me. I’m not just here to make ends meet. I really like him.”

Tess hummed, “Right. You’re one of those rare sugar babies who like a guy for their personality and not their wallet?”

“Well,” You cracked the most friendly smile you could muster to try and break the tension, “It helps he’s gorgeous.” Tess continued to glare at you, and you were tempted to throw a chair through the suite window and leap out just to avoid her stare. Granted, she looked close to just throwing you out herself. “Bad joke. Very bad joke. That was⏤ I’m sorry. When I get nervous my mouth just says things without my permission.”

It was painfully silent in the room as she just stared at you. You cleared your throat and just stood there awkwardly. Finally, Tess spoke up, “You step one toe out of line, and you will regret it. Do I make myself clear?”

The sound of the bathroom door opened and you nodded. “Crystal.”

Joel stepped back out wearing the suit he had earlier, but without the tie. The top few buttons of his shirt were messily hanging open and he didn’t bother fixing his tousled hair. Tess rolled her eyes at him, “Finally. Let’s go.”

“Just hang on.” Joel walked toward you.

“Miller⏤”

“Give me two fuckin' seconds, Tess.” Joel snapped.

Tess scoffed and marched out of the room into the hall without a passing goodbye in your direction. Joel finally reached you and his warm hands cupped your arms. You focused back on him and the softness you had grown used to had returned in his gaze. “So, she hates me.”

“No.” Joel shakes his head. “She don't.”

“You weren’t in here with us a minute ago, I think she might try and kill me.”

Joel chuckled and dragged a hand up past your shoulder to cup the side of your neck. “Tess is just… protective. A bull dog.”

You furrowed your brow, “She compared you to a dog too a second ago.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind.”

Joel kissed your forehead, “I don’ know when I’ll be back so don’ wait up for me, 'kay? Same deal as last time. You need anythin' an' you jus' shoot me a text. Do not leave this room or let anyone in while I’m gone.” You nodded, but Joel wanted more than that. “Understood?”

“Yeah, I got it.” You agreed.

Joel brushed his thumb against your cheek in a caress once more before wishing you a good night and leaving. With both of them out of the room, you felt like you were finally catching your breath.

Vegas had been a whirlwind, but you supposed that was the appeal of the city to so many. Your hand was tangled with Joel’s as the two of you slowly walked through the lobby. Your bags had already been packed and brought down to the car by the staff. Now the two of you were just lingering for the sake of lingering. Joel told you more about the annoying time he had last night⏤ he hadn’t managed to get back until just past midnight.

You focused on the drag of his thumb against the back of your hand as he spoke. As much as you hated to admit it, you only half paid attention to the words he was saying. Your mind was playing through your meeting with Tess line by line. There was something nagging at you.

Joel squeezed your hand suddenly and you snapped your gaze to see him looking beyond you. He nodded, “She’s callin' you.”

“Huh?” You glanced over your shoulder to see Yo-yo waving to you as she hurried over. She wore a white cocktail dress that clung to her skin. Her hair was curled in pretty wave. “Oh, Yo-yo, hey.”

“I am so glad I caught you!” Yo-yo squealed and pulled you in a tight hug despite your hand still being connected to yours. “Ugh, I missed you so much last night. Can’t believe you bailed on me!”

“Sorry, I wasn’t feeling good.” You motioned to Joel. “Yo-yo, this is Joel Miller. Joel, this is Yo-yo. She’s the one I met by the pool yesterday.”

“It’s super nice to meet you, Mr. Miller.” Yo-yo replied in a musical tone.

Joel grunted in agreement with a curt nod. You gave him a curious glance, but he met your gaze. He nodded once, “Stay. I’ll get the car.”

“Oh, okay.” You replied. Joel pulled his hand from yours and wandered away. You furrowed your eyebrow in slight confusion.

Yo-yo chuckled and her tone lost the bubbly tone to return to her baseline normal one, “Wow. He is just as stoic and grumpy as everyone says.” You opened your mouth to argue. Technically, neither of those words described the man you spent your days with, but you couldn’t deny they fit him in the few seconds with Yo-yo here. “Also, he seriously is stupid hot. God. His jawline just makes me wanna gnaw on it. Shame he’s kind of a sleaze ball.”

“I don’t even know what that means⏤ wait, what?” You shook your head as the final part of her statement dawned on you. “What did you just say?”

Yo-yo twisted her lips in a frown, “I seriously am glad I caught you. I mean, I was gonna call you regardless, but this is probably better in person.”

“Yo-yo, spit it out.” You snapped.

“I did some digging last night when Simmons was out. Called a few girls I actually trust.” She sighed. “Best I’ve gathered, the sugar baby he had before you? Her name is Heather. Granted, I have no idea if that’s her real name or not since a good bit of us lie about that.” Yo-yo reached out to hold your elbow. “Anyways, my friend Tammy says the last time Heather bragged about seeing him was around four months ago.”

You blinked in shock. Four months? That was even less time considering you and Joel had been hanging out for almost a month and a half now. Worse, if it were true that meant Joel lied to you. He said his last relationship had been a year ago.

“That’s not the worst part…” Yo-yo said slowly.

“That’s not…” You lifted a hand to your face. You didn’t mean to snap at her, but it came out in frustration and confusion. “How exactly does it get worse, Yo-yo!?”

She hesitated a beat before sighing. Yo-yo said the words, you saw her mouth move and the words entered your skull, but they rattled around in a way that left your ears ringing. Yo-yo was saying your name in concern, but you were still trying to register her previous statement.

“He married her. Joel is a married man.”

Yeah. Yo-yo was right.

That was worse.

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