#It holds up as both of it's time and ahead of it's time
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Harry twirls a lock of dark curls between his fingers. Tips his chin against Tommy's head and stares up at the ceiling. He considers not asking, this time.
The sex is good, and Tommy's funny, and if he closes his eyes he could imagine there could be something - Tommy twitches and shifts his hand lower like he might be gearing up for another round, and it breaks the fantasy. That's new.
"Tell me about him," Harry says, and Tommy's eyes tip up to glare at Harry.
"Making an assumption, there," Tommy warns, but Harry just raises an eyebrow. Six years of this and Harry knows better than to expect Tommy would show up at his door for any reason other than to get his mind off of something - someone else.
"So we're both asses," Harry intones. He needs to call the super, see what they'll do about the water stain on his ceiling. "Tell me about him."
Tommy sighs. Twists, drifts away to the second pillow, and Harry's done this enough times not to mourn the loss, exactly. It's not like he's ever told Tommy -
"He's too young. Impulsive. New."
Harry fails to hold in his snort. "Okay."
Tommy at 34 had been a fucking hurricane. Newly out, no holds barred, he'd jumped right into the deep end and let the storm whirl him around. They'd been friends, for the first six months, Harry a watchful presence while Tommy made it his mission to be more than the guy in the dark corner getting a risky blowie fifteen minutes before last call. To be out - not loud, that wasn't Tommy's style - but to at least be himself.
He'd lasted two months in a real, actual relationship before he'd shown up at Harry's door with a six pack and a box of condoms.
"He looks at me and sees this - cool suave guy -" Harry shifts, nearly interrupts because that guy is exactly what Tommy projects, even if he doesn't mean to. Fucking Scorpios. "- and I was falling for him."
Yeah. Harry can extrapolate from that. Tommy fell ass over tea kettle and then got spooked.
"He's just so fucking open with himself. No brainworm goes untouched, and he can't hide his emotions for shit, and he's so goddamn stubborn and so goddamn ready to bulldoze through every hurdle ahead without looking back at the damage, and..." Tommy trails off. One hand shifts down to hitch the duvet up over his hips, and Harry adds the duvet cover to his list of laundry. "I gave him too many chances to slow down on his own."
"What, did the kid ask you to marry him or something?"
"He's the Himbo," Tommy retorts, and it takes Harry a moment to make the connection. He whistles through his teeth just to watch the scowl fall into place on Tommy's face. "And the connection freaked him out so much he asked me to move in. To his bachelor pad loft." Harry waits. "It has two balconies, Harry. Two."
"...he knows you have a mortgage, right?"
Tommy shoves at his shoulder. "It doesn't matter. We're just - the timing wasn't right."
"Did you want it to be?"
That's always the thing he ends up hung up on, in Harry's experience. Tommy's scared out of his mind to be the right person at the wrong time. Always has been. There's probably some mommy or daddy issues hidden in there somewhere he hasn't explored. Tommy's eyes drift up to the water stain. "Don't these apartments all have the same layout?"
This is the shove-off. This is his hint not to push. "Yes, and I really don't want to ask how the upstairs neighbor flooded their bedroom. Back to the guy." He's never been one for acknowledging unspoken cues.
"Buck," Tommy says, and the name sounds harsh in his mouth.
"Buck," Harry repeats, and pictures Tommy's usual type - tall, light-eyed, more smiles than common sense. There was always something distinctive, too - freckles, a scar, weird shaped ears.
"I miss him."
It doesn't hurt the way it had those first few years, when Harry was convinced that eventually Tommy would see him as more than a friend to blow off steam with. Still. There's a twinge there, beneath his rib cage.
"So stop missing him. That's an option, isn't it?"
And Tommy does that thing - that frustrating, enchanting thing, where his whole body seems to hold the emotion flickering across his face. "I walked out on him. I dug the damn knife in just to make sure he wouldn't try to convince me to stay."
"Would you have? Stayed?"
Tommy's quiet. The sweat has cooled on his skin, and the lights coming in through his window dance across the skin of his shoulder, his chest, that stupid thick neck of his.
The phone he left on the bedside table is dark, but that doesn't stop Tommy's gaze flicking to it.
"Cards on the table, Tommy?" Harry sucks in a breath. Blows it out through his nose. "Once upon a time, I convinced myself you were it for me. That I'd be satisfied with what you gave me, and I wouldn't ask for more. I cut you out of my life for eight months when I realized how fucking dumb that was."
Tommy frowns. Harry hadn't really ever expected him to notice.
"I've seen you through shitty relationships, and one sided ones. I've heard all the bullshit you and Greg put each other through. I've been there for every fucking heartache."
And he'd offered up his body like it was absolution for always being fucking thrilled when a relationship ended.
"You called me Evan," Harry murmurs, and Tommy's eyes go wide. That's never fucking happened before. This thing wouldn't have lasted nearly as long if he'd ever heard another man's name in his bed before. "You should shower. Go home. Take a day or two, if you need it. But I know for a fact you wait this shit out, justify coming to me with time and space from whatever guy has you strung out. I know it's been a minute already, and I know you've never sounded so unsure about cutting someone loose."
Tommy's gaze flicks to him.
"Whatever it is that's got you so scared of this guy, figure it the fuck out. Because it sounds to me like you fell fast and hard and hit a fucking wall before you ever thought to tap the brakes. That's not fair to you or him. Call him. Text him. Show up at his door with a bouquet or an industrial size bottle of lube and figure your shit out. Together."
Tommy stares at him for a long, long time in silence.
"Them's the brakes, huh?"
Harry hates that he knows exactly what Tommy means. Still, he clarifies. "This is your forever guy." Six years of watching him flail and learn and grow and hurt and love and fuck. He knows a thing or two about Tommy and his flights of romance. Knows this lonely man has never sounded quite so lonely before. "You don't need me, anymore."
He's quiet as his eyes drift back up to the stain. "I'm not his forever guy." Harry can't actually refute that, considering he's never met the guy. But he knows Tommy. Knows exactly how captivating he can be. Knows Tommy's a sucker for that starry-eyed look that so often has meant not love, as Tommy reads it, but idolization. "What if I'm not his forever guy?"
Harry digs toes into the spot in the duvet where Tommy's knees should be. He shifts Tommy about half a millimeter. "He has a nickname you don't call him except when you're punishing yourself. He dated Abby and that shared history didn't scare him off. You'd never let yourself fall for a guy that wasn't throwing clear signs that it was serious. I'd put my odds on him doing something weird and wholesome every time he thinks about you until his entire two balcony loft is filled with trinkets or treats and he still can't get you off his mind."
Harry's never seen Tommy's face do that before. Not in the throes of a honeymoon phase and not in the worst of a bad breakup. It's some awful mixture between unbridled hope and abject despair.
Harry thinks it's probably fair to hate him a little, for that face. He's earned the right.
"If he kicks you to the curb, I'll take you to one of those expensive wine tastings you pretend to hate, and I'll let you drink all my samples too." It's not an idle promise. Tommy may pretend to hate it but Harry fucking loves wine tastings. "If he doesn't..." Harry shoots him a fond look, "...knowing your type I'm not invited to the wedding anyway, so I guess then I'd been seeing you around."
Something shadows his gaze for a moment, but he's quick to hide it, to smack Harry on the chest like they've just had a good game, to shift out of bed and into his briefs before Harry can blink. He doesn't love Tommy. Not the way he'd have liked to, years and years ago. Still, when Tommy shoots him the dorkiest finger guns known to man and scoops up the rest of his clothes to take to the bathroom with him, Harry still wonders what it's like to have him enough to love him fully.
---
The name catches him off guard every time he hears it. 'Evan' isn't hard to filter - Evan had been a popular enough name to immediately write it off but Buck wasn't white noise of a name
Buck was a character in a movie, an old grizzled war vet, a dog. The name Buck wasn't popular enough not to hear it every time it was so much as whispered in his direction.
The coffee shop isn't crowded, but it's not dead either. When the girl at the counter calls out an order for Buck, sliding three cups down the counter, Harry can't help but look up.
A tall broad shouldered hulk of a man smiles a dimpled smile at the barista, and Harry watches him palm two cups and grab the third one in one practiced move. He's cute, Harry thinks. Maybe his grandpa ordered, Harry thinks, a little harder, and then caves, following his path through the three-tops littering the lobby.
Harry catches sight of him without being noticed. He's grinning, one of those rare earnest ones that make his ears rise and his face crinkle like a Shar Pei, hand spread out over something lying open on the table. The little girl on the seat to his right is a surprise, but Harry hasn't spoken to Tommy in two years. Maybe he's had enough time to get his mind around the idea that he's nothing like his father. The girl responds to something Tommy says by palming at as much of his face as she can reach and turning to the man now approaching their table.
"Uncle Buck!" he catches, another firm tug at the part of his brain that's been stuck on this for too long. The man barely gets all three drinks on the table before the girl is launching herself up into his arms, and it's too late for Harry to turn away without notice. Tommy's gaze shifts across the room and lands right on him.
He looks like he might wave Harry over, and Harry would rather die than know whether Tommy would introduce him as an old friend, or by name like Buck should know it. He tips a smile Tommy's way. Raises a brow at the man - Buck - and gets lips being sucked behind teeth in response, and then a slow, subtle head tilt.
Good. Good for him. Harry's never wanted anything for Tommy but to see him incandescently happy.
Witnessing it from a distance is better.
Buck twirls his - niece? - flops her back down on the bench seat next to Tommy and bends to say something that includes a pinky promise. He's got a wine-dark stain just above his brow, and Harry can't quite hide the tip of his smile.
Harry's name rings in his ears as he picks up his drink, and he's halfway to the door, feeling proud of himself for not turning back, when he hears the chorus of three laughs erupting from the corner where he'd taken his last good look.
He'd seen the ring on insta, a week and a half ago. Just an uncaptioned picture of two bands balanced one over the other on a rock, a killer sunset sky blurry behind them. No tags. 102 likes and counting.
Harry pushes through the doors and only glances through the window to watch Tommy tip his head back in laughter for a second, before he's cleared the coffee shop and rounded the corner back to his office.
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Bittersweet (part 2)
bitter part 1 | part 3 (coming soon)
pairing: kamisato ayato x f!reader
word count: 2k
warning: negative thoughts
The cherry blossoms fluttered down one by one. The silk fabric of your wedding attire slightly swayed in the wind. You sat with your husband in front of your families, and you looked upon the guests who enjoyed themselves at the matrimonial ceremony.
A happy smile washed upon your expression as you sipped the ceremonial sake. Unbeknownst to you, his amethyst eyes watched your every move and expression that day.Â
Later on, when people grew more and more inebriated, and some time had passed, he looked at you with an unknown glint in his eyes. He placed his hand over yours, the one that had laid rested on his lap. And as if he had just placed a mask directly over his face, he gave you that smile you were all too familiar with during the present day.Â
You felt that you could get lost into the light and beautiful colors of his eyes. And before you knew it, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours, so softly, so tenderly, that it felt like you could melt right then and there. His scent overwhelmed your senses, his touch was ever so gentle. Even the beauty of the cherry blossoms themselves could not distract you from how much affection you had held for this man before you.Â
You shut your own eyes as you sank deeper into his kiss.
That was when you had fallen in love with him for the first time.
Overcome with emotions, your eyes then fluttered open like a gentle breeze in the plains of Teyvat.Â
Instead of seeing the man you had fallen in love with, you found yourself staring at the familiar wooden ceiling above you. It was just a dream. A very familiar dream. Your hand had instantly made its way to find the ring that was centered on your left fourth finger.
Letting out a sigh of relief, you brought the ring to your chest, holding it close to your own heart so that you could never lose or forget those sweet memories again.Â
Then, after you took some time to yourself, you got up early that morning, getting yourself ready as you made your way to breakfast.
Your duties as his spouse was to oversee the staff and make sure the interior and exterior of the house were up to par. In short, you worked with Ayaka closely, taking on the other half of her workload. Days were busy as you greeted guests several times a week, trying to behave as courteously as you could, while your sister in law went out of the estate to pay political visits to other prominent people.Â
The morning air carried the faint scent of cherry blossoms, though the season for their full bloom had long passed. You let the memories of that dream linger as you walked through the estate, weaving through your responsibilities. The stillness of the household awakened with the first rays of sunlight, the staff bustling in preparation for the day ahead.Â
At breakfast, Ayaka mentioned the upcoming event hosted by the Kanjou Commission, her words lighthearted but laced with the weight of duty.
âIt will be an important gathering,â Ayaka said, her calm voice like the gentle ripple of a stream. âThe merchants will be in attendance, along with several envoys from Liyue and Fontaine. It will give us an opportunity to strengthen alliances.â
You nodded, already knowing your role in such events. As his spouse, you were expected to play the part of a gracious hostess, perfectly polished, and in sync with your husbandâs impeccable image. But beneath your poised demeanor, you felt the familiar weight in your chest. These events always served as a reminder of the distance between you and Ayato, that mask of formality that the both of you put on to appear as the perfect couple.
He arrived at the breakfast table later than usual, his amethyst eyes meeting yours for a fleeting moment before he took the tea that you had poured for him. He looked tired as usual, his gentle smile masking his fatigue. âThe preparations are coming along well, I trust?â he asked, his voice calm and measured.
âYes,â you replied with a small smile. âEverything should be in order.â
He gave a short nod, taking a sip of his tea before speaking again. âGood. I appreciate your attention to these details.â There was no warmth in his tone, only polite acknowledgment, and you had long since stopped expecting more. But still, a compliment was a compliment and you could only bask in the small amount of attention he showed you.
â± âââ â
âĄâ
âââ â°
The estate of the Hiiragi sparkled with lanterns and elegant decor. You and Ayato arrived hand in hand quite early, and as more guests arrived, you greeted them with a smile that you had perfected over the years. Your kimono was intricately detailed, the colors chosen to complement Ayatoâs attire, though the two of you felt like mere actors on a stage rather than a married couple.
Ayato was by your side, as expected, and his demeanor was calm and charming as he greeted prominent figures. His gentle words flowed with ease, and the guests hung onto every syllable. Occasionally, his hand would hold yours, but it was fleeting, a mere formality rather than a gesture of affection, causing your heart to ache briefly before you force that pleasant smile onto your face.
As the evening progressed, the air buzzed with conversation and subtle power plays. You found yourself caught in the intricate dance of politics, where every word and gesture held weight. But you were used to this, you had been his wife for years now. One of the envoys from Fontaine, a stern-looking man, started to engage you in conversation. At first, the exchange was cordial, but you quickly realized he was testing you, his tone growing sharper with every word.
âI see the Yashiro Commissionâs manners are as refined as ever,â he said, his gaze flickering to Ayato before settling back on you. âThough I wonder, Lady Kamisato, do you share your husbandâs understanding of the intricate trade agreements we are discussing?â
The subtle condescension in his voice made your pulse quicken. You smiled politely, trying to recall the specifics Ayaka had briefed you on earlier. But the manâs relentless questioning caught you off guard, and a slight misstep in your response sent a ripple through the nearby conversations. A murmur spread among the guests, and the envoyâs sharp laugh cut through the air.
âI suppose not everyone can grasp the complexities of international trade,â he said, his tone dripping with mockery. Before you could respond, he picked up a cup of tea from the table and tipped it over, the warm liquid spilling onto your hair and shoulders. It dripped down your body, staining your kimono. For a moment, you couldnât move or breathe. Your vision blurred as the murmurs around you grew louder, your pulse pounding in your ears.
The shock of it froze you in place. Your composure shattered as you felt the heat reach your face and the sting of humiliation in your chest. Gasps erupted from the surrounding guests, but the man seemed unbothered, already turning away to rejoin another group.
Ayato stepped forward, his expression unreadable, and his hand reached out toward you. But before he could speak, you bolted from the room, the tears you had fought so hard to hold back finally spilling over as embarrassment filled your entirety.Â
You knew your husband wouldnât defend you if it meant trying to keep those trade dealings ongoing. You didnât want to blame him for doing so, but you also wouldnât dare to look him into his eyes. Thoughts after thoughts flood your mind. You werenât good enough for him. Youâll never be good enough for him. Everything was ruined because of you, and you were sure he thought the same.
After all, Kamisato Ayato was a man who strived for the best. He sacrificed a lot for the sake of his clan, including his own happiness and leisure. How could you, of all people, ruin that?
You ran through the dimly lit halls of the estate, vision blurred by your hot tears. The air of the cool night hit your face as you stepped outside into the garden, seeking refuge among the quiet cherry blossom trees. The hum of the party grew faint behind you, but your sorrow only grew as time passed.
It wasnât long before you heard footsteps behind you. You turned to see your husband standing there, his usually composed expression slightly off.
âY/n,â he said softly, his voice carrying a hint of urgency. âAre you alright?â
That simple question broke something within you. The dam you carefully built over years of silent suffering had burst, and the words spilled out before you could stop them.
âAlright?â You echoed, your voice trembling. âHow could I possibly be alright, Ayato? Do you know what it feels like to be humiliated like that in front of everyone? Do you even care?â
His eyes widened slightly, but he said nothing, and his silence only fueled your anger.
He must have thought you looked like an idiot. Surely, he must have. Maybe he was even disappointed in you. Maybe⊠he didnât even want you to be his wife anymore.
Something broke within you.Â
âAll of these years, I have tried so hard to be the perfect wife for you, to support you in everything you do, even when you barely acknowledge my existence. And tonight, when I needed you the most, you just stood there, just watching me be humiliated.â
âY/nâŠâ His voice was soft, almost hesitant, but you shook your head, tears streaming down your face. You donât notice how he reached out to touch your cheek gently in an attempt to comfort you, only to retract it like he had just touched a flame once you had looked up at him.Â
âNo,â you said, your voice cracking. âIâm done pretending that this doesnât hurt, that you havenât hurt me. Every day, I feel like Iâm just a burden to you, like I donât belong in your world. I wait for you every single night, but youâre never there. I want to hold your hand and⊠and help carry your burdens⊠I want to kiss you and love you. Thatâs why I canât do this anymore, Ayato. I just⊠I canât. You kissed me once, so sweetly, on our wedding day. I dreamt about it last night, and it hurt because that was the last time I felt like you ever truly saw me.â
There was a long silence after that. For a moment, he looked as though he wanted to say something, but the words never came. Instead, his expression softened into something you couldnât quite placeâregret perhaps, or even pity.
You didnât want him to pity you. You just wanted him to love you. You wanted to be his light, his world. His wife.Â
âDo you even love me?â You finally asked.
That large question was met with even more silence. His lips parted slightly as if to answer, but no words came. His gaze then shifted, somewhere between anguish and restraint, before it fell elsewhere.
You then let out a shaky breath, the weight of your emotions finally left you feeling hollow.Â
âIâm sorry for burdening you,â you whispered, your voice barely audible.Â
And before he could respond, you turned and ran away, leaving him alone in the moonlit garden.Â
Surprisingly, you felt free after those words. Free, yet the sorrow in your heart kept pouring out. It kept pouring out like the most bitter tears in the world.
You collapsed onto the ground in your room, gripping your wedding ring. You wanted to hold on to the sweetness of your memories, but they slipped through your fingers like grains of sugar dissolving in water. You thought about your dream from last night, your wedding, the way he had kissed you so sweetly.
Even now, the memory felt like a trick your mind had played, a fleeting glimpse of something that was never real. And the more you tried to cling on to it, the more you realized that the sweetness of such memories had faded into a bitterness within your heart.Â
A lonely, bittersweet love.
bitter part 1
#kamisato ayato x reader#ayato x reader#genshin impact x reader#ayato x reader angst#genshin impact#kamisato ayato x reader angst
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á°á© motherhood and matrimony I ch 7 á°á©
êšïž pairing. au ceo! satoru gojo x single mom secretary fem! reader
êš summary. satoru gojo, the arrogant and irresistible heir to a billion-dollar corporation and the son of your boss, the ceo... but when satoruâs father dies unexpectedly, his inheritance hinges on a stipulation: he must marry and have a child, but the child doesn't necessarily have to be his, right? together, you strike a deal: a fake marriage that promises financial stability for you and corporate control for him. as the lines between business and emotion blur, you must decide if your partnership is purely contractual or if it could evolve into something real.
êšïž warnings/tags. 18+ MDNI, nsfw, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, fake marriage, slow burn, smut, fluff, bit of angst, reader is single mom who recently broke off her engagement, satoru being a cute step dad, naoya is your crappy ex, some triggers of domestic abuse » ănote, this chapter contains heavy triggers of domestic abuse and explicit sexual content (dry humping, grinding)ă
êš words: 21k (i'm so... so tired guys...)
êš a/n. happy thanksgiving! sorry this took so longâthis chapter has a lot in it. i'm laying down a lot of ground work for what's to come so... this is kind of a unique chapter, and it didn't feel right breaking it up. anyways, here ya go! also, happy birthday @gojoslefttoenail âĄ
êš taglist: closed (ao3)
⏠playlist
series masterlist êšïž previous chapter êšïž next chapter â pending
ch 7 // the road ahead
Stepping out of the suiteâs bedroom, raindrops cling to the large windowsâa warm glow radiating over the common area as each shimmering bead catches delicate streams of morning sunlight, but the only thing that draws your attention is Satoru.
Sitting casually on the plush couch, one of his arms is draped lazily along the backrest, his long legs stretched out as though the world couldnât faze him. He looks utterly at ease, but as soon as his eyes meet yours, everything shifts. His expression brightens instantly, his features softening into a boyish grin, and those brilliant blue eyes of his twinkle with a warmth that feels like itâs meant for you alone.
âMorninâ sleepyhead. Ready to get going?â
A soft smile tugs at your lips as you meet his gaze.
He never fails to make your heart skip a beatâevery single time. But now, your heart flutters differently. Thereâs a gentle intimacy in the way he looks at youâsomething that is much more than casual affection.
Nodding, your fingers absentmindedly tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear as you begin to cross the room, closing the distance between him.
âYeah,â you murmur, reaching for your purse on the coffee table, then sliding it around your shoulder. âLetâs go home.â
Stepping out of the suite together, itâs almost like the quiet click of the door feels like the closing of a chapter, and the beginning of something new.
You both begin to make your way down the hallway towards the elevator, and without a word, Satoru reaches for your hand, his fingers threading between yours in a way that feels so natural, so right, like they were always meant to fit together this way.
Looking up at him, he flashes you another one of those disarming smiles while offering your hand a reassuring squeeze.
Your stomach flipsâbut why? This isnât the first time youâve held handsâfar from it. You do it all the time in public, in front of others. So why does it feel different now?
AhâŠbecause this is real.
There are no cameras. And there is something different in the way he holds your handâitâs more deliberate, more certain, as if the invisible wall that once stood between you has finally crumbled.
That realization alone sends a warmth flooding through you, spreading up your chest and into your cheeks, leaving you flushed with a delicate shade of pink. But itâs not just the hand-holdingâitâs everything. The look in his eyes, the warmth of his touch, the way his presence makes you feel cherished in a way youâve never felt before.
For the first time, you know for certain that youâre not just pretending.
And despite being able to walk beside him in comfortable silence, you canât help but feel a little nervous around him now. Everything is differentâŠand thatâs exciting, but also terrifying in its own way.
Familiar, but new.
A subtle tension begins to coil in your chest, and then, your stomach betrays you with a low, unmistakable growl. Its soft rumble breaks the quiet momentâcatching Satoruâs attention.
âHungry?â he teases.
âYeah⊠I could really use something to eatâŠâ you mutter, almost to yourself, a faint blush creeping into your cheeks.
Satoruâs eyes glint with amusement, and he hums thoughtfully, his thumb tracing idle patterns on the back of your hand.
âYâknow⊠I shouldâve ordered us breakfast in bed. One call, and we couldâve had pancakes, coffee⊠the works.â Tilting his head, he lets out a playful sigh. âJust thinkâpancakes and cuddles.â
The thought sends a shiver of warmth through you. His eyes flicker to yoursâmeeting you with a smirk, and you canât help the grin that spreads across your face. Nudging him gently with your elbow, you let out a soft, breathy laugh.
âMmm, that does sound temptingâŠâ you pause, letting the image linger, but then your smile fades slightlyâtempered by a tug in your heart.
Haruâis she okay? The wind had howled so fiercely through the night, and you werenât there to comfort her.
âBut⊠we should get home to HaruâŠâ your voice softens as the concern creeps in, despite your best efforts to hide it.
The teasing gleam in Satoruâs eyes soften into something warmer, more tender.
âYeah, youâre right,â he murmurs, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. âCanât keep the little princess waiting.â
Once you approach the elevator, Satoru reaches out to press the button. But as you stand there for a brief moment of silence, he glances at you from the corner of his eyeâcatching sight of your furrowed brow, your lips pressed together in a thin line. Thoughts of Haru cloud your mindâweighing you down. Youâre anxious to get home to her.
He leans back against the wall beside the elevator, and then with a subtle movement, you blink as he gently pulls you into his chest.
As his warmth envelops you like a soft blanket, he intertwines both of your hands, holding them between your bodies.
âSoâŠâ he sighs, looking down at you affectionately, âpancakes or waffles when we get back?â
The question, so simple yet so thoughtful, pulls you out of your reverie.
âI could definitely go for pancakes,â he adds with a slight grin, leaning in closer, âbut I think Haruâs more of a waffle girl, right?â
His thumbs brush gently over your knucklesâa wordless reassuranceâand the tension within you slowly begins to fade as you relax into his warmth. Your heart swells that he has caught onto such a small detail regarding Haru.
âYeah⊠definitely waffles,â a slow smile spreads up your lips. âShe thinks pancakes are too mushy.â
Satoruâs face immediately falls into an exaggerated frown, his lower lip jutting out in a dramatic pout.
âSeriously? Too mushy? Aww man⊠what kind of taste does she have?â
You canât help but giggle at his expression, but before you can respond, he doubles down on the sillinessâhis voice dropping into an absurdly serious tone.
âTch⊠waffles are just pancakes with abs.â
The deadpan delivery of his words catches you completely off guard, and before you know it, a burst of laughter escapes your lips and Satoruâs grin widens, clearly pleased with himselfâsoaking in the joy heâs managed to spark.
âSee?â he teases, soft but triumphant as he unclasps your hands, only to wrap his arms around you. âCanât be stressed when youâre thinking about pancakes with abs.â
âHow do you even come up with these things?â you shake your head, still smiling.
âWhat? You know itâs true,â he declares.
His fingers absentmindedly rub against your lower back as he leans down to place a tender kiss upon your temple.
âBut Iâll win her over one day. Pancakes will prevail.â
As his words settle, you feel a warm realization blooming in your chest.
Was⊠he trying to cheer you up?
Leaning into his embrace, you feel the last traces of tension melt away, replaced by a quiet gratitude that fills every corner of your chest. For once, you donât feel the need to hold everything together alone. With him, itâs safe to let go, to simply be.
Suddenly, the soft ding of the elevator breaks your thoughts, pulling you back to the presentâand as the door slides open with a quiet swoosh, you both step in together, welcomed by its faint hum.
After pressing the button to descend, Satoruâs arm slips around your waist, drawing you back against the warmth of his chest. Your heart skips a beat as his hands move slowly across youâgliding up your hips until they settle on your stomachâhis fingers splayed gently over the fabric of your dress.
He nuzzles into the curve of your neck, and ripples of pleasure course through your body as he exhales deeplyâbasking in your presence.Â
âSatoruâŠâ you whisper, but his name falters on your lips as he dips his head lower, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder and trailing soft, lingering kisses up your neck.
âMmm?â he hums against your skin, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.
A quiet, airy laugh escapes you, and you tilt your head slightly, granting him better access.
âWhat⊠what are you doing?â you ask breathlessly.
âJust⊠enjoying this moment,â he murmurs through kissesâinhaling deeply. âIs that okay?â
Oh⊠this is new. Heâs so⊠affectionate.
âUm⊠yeahâŠâ you whisper, âitâs⊠more than okay.â
A deep, contented groan rumbles from his chest, and you feel his hands slide to your sides, his thumbs brushing slowly over your hips in a rhythm thatâs both soothing and exhilarating.
âGoodâŠâ he exhales, a hint of tension in his voice. ââCause⊠I canât seem to keep my hands off you todayâŠâ
A pleasant shiver runs through you as his warmth surrounds youâthe solid press of his body so close that itâs all you can feel, all you can breathe in.
Heat floods your cheeks, and just as youâre about to say something, he lets out a shaky sighâhis forehead coming to rest gently against your shoulderâhis arms easing into a softer, more measured hold.
âFuck⊠sorry,â he breathes. âSee what you do to me?â his words come out in a quiet, almost desperate groan. âYou drive me insaneâŠâ
Your heart races at his admission, and a light, breathless laugh slips from your lips.
âDo I?â you glance back at him.
The moment you catch that look in his eyes, dark and intense, a slow, deliberate smile curves up his lipsâsomething wild simmering beneath the surface.
âMore than you know,â he murmurs.
Tilting your head, you hold his gazeâa spark of mischief lighting your own as you manage a small, daring smile.
âWell⊠maybe I like driving you a little crazyâŠâ
A low groan rumbles in his chest as his grip on your hips tightens with a restraint that feels as delicate as a thread.
âOh, youâre trouble,â he murmurs, âIâm trying to be respectful here, but youâre really not making it easy.â
A thrill courses through you at his wordsâyour heart racing in your chest. For a brief, dizzying moment, you wonder what it would be like to let him lose that last bit of control.
ButâŠ
âWeâre⊠weâre in an elevator Satoru,â you exhale with a growing smile. âAnd⊠there are cameras, you know?â
Drawing in a slow breath, his eyes drift shut for a momentâas if gathering himself. Then, he presses a lingering kiss to your shoulder, soft yet intenseâleaving a warmth in its wake.
âI know, I know,â he mutters reluctantly, âIâll behave...â
You arch a brow, the faintest smirk touching your lips.
âReally?â you tease, tilting your head. âBecause you donât exactly feel like youâre behaving.â
A deep, rich chuckle escapes him, reverberating against your skin as he leans in.
âBelieve me,â his tone dips to a hushed promise, âif I wasnât behaving⊠youâd know.â
ââŠis that so?â you challenge, just above a whisper.
âOh, sweetheartâŠâ he whispers, lips brushing against your ear. âIâd pin you against this wall and kiss you senseless if we werenât in publicâŠâ his fingers trace slow, deliberate circles on your hips. âBut for now, Iâll settle for thisâŠâ
A flush of warmth spreads up your cheeksâhis words unraveling you on the inside. You manage a small, steadying breath, clinging to your composure as best as you can.
âGood to know you have some self-control,â you sigh breathlessly. âAlthough⊠I didnât ask you to hold back⊠entirely.â
A spark of mischief lights his eyes, and in one smooth motion, he loosens his grip on your hipsâpulling back just enough to shift the energy. His hands slide down to capture yours, and he spins you around to face him with a gentle tugâinterlacing his fingers with yours.
âDonât tempt me,â an exasperated laugh slips through his lips. âCâmon now⊠thatâs really not fair. Iâm seriously hanging by a thread as it is.â
His laugh is contagious, and it pulls one from you, breaking the tension just enough to leave you both grinning.
âSince when did you become such a risk-taker, Mr. Perfect?â
He chuckles, shaking his head slightly, almost as if heâs surprised himself.
âSince you started driving me out of my mind,â with a soft sigh, his voice lowers as he brings his forehead to rest gently against yours. âYouâve got me breaking all my rules.â
A warmth blossoms in your chest, his quiet admission stirring something deeper within you.
âI guess⊠Iâm breaking my own rules tooâŠâ you admit quietly.
êš
As the limo door closes and the car pulls away from the hotel, you let out a deep, satisfied sigh, sinking back into the plush seat. Stretching your legs out, you slip off your heels with a soft groan of relief, wiggling your sore toes and savoring the freedom.
âFinally,â you murmur, leaning your head back against the seat. âIâm so ready to go home.â
Beside you, Satoru watchesâa lazy, amused smile tugging at his lips as he crosses his arms and leans back.
âMmm... I suppose it was a long night, huh?â
You respond with a dramatic groanâtilting your head back against the seat and letting your eyes flutter shut. The exhaustion from the previous night still lingersâa subtle ache in your muscles.
Will these events ever get any easier? You seriously doubt it.
âThatâs an understatement,â you sigh. âNo more charity galas for a while, please. I need a serious break.â
A low chuckle escapes him, and you feel the warmth of his hand as he reaches over, his fingers finding yours in a gentle squeeze.
âOh?â his thumb brushes softly against your knuckles. âWell, well⊠and here I thought you were starting to enjoy the glamorous life, Mrs. Gojo.â
You open your eyes, turning to give him a look of pure disbelief.
âEnjoy?â you scoff, letting out a soft, incredulous laugh. âSatoru, my feet are still killing me from last night, and my face actually hurts from all that forced smiling. Iâm serious. Please, no more galas for a bit. Iâm begging you.â
Pressing your hands together in a dramatic plea, your exaggerated gesture pulls a small smirk to the corner of his lips.
âSo⊠youâre telling me you didnât enjoy the endless small talk, the flashing cameras, the unsolicited life advice?â his tone drips with feigned innocence.
You snort, rolling your eyes as you lean your head against his shoulder, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle over you. With a tired sigh, you murmur,
âIf I have to hear one more person ask when weâre expanding our family, I might actually lose it.â
His smirk deepens, a mischievous gleam flickering in his gaze as he leans in a fraction closer.
âWellâŠâ his voice drops to a low, intimate murmur. âIâm more than happy to help with the âexpandingâ part.â
A flush of warmth rushes to your cheeksâyour eyes widening as his words sink in. You lift your head to meet his gaze, but the intensity in his eyes only makes your blush deepen.
âS-Satoru!â you stammer.
He laughs, rich and unrestrainedâclearly delighted by your reaction. His eyes glint with mischief as he leans backâstretching his arm along the back of the seat in a languid, confident gesture.
âWhat?â a wicked grin tugs at his lips. âJust trying to be a supportive husband.â
âYouâre impossible,â you mutter, still feeling the warmth on your cheeks as you nudge him with your elbowâa reluctant smile creeping onto your face.
After a moment, you clear your throat, shifting the conversation.
âSpeaking of which⊠Mr. âSupportive Husbandâ⊠you really threw me off during the interview last night, you know that? Changing the script at the last second?â
He crosses his arms, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
âOh, come on. You handled it perfectly. I was impressed.â
Raising an eyebrow, you give him a pointed look.
âImpressed or not, that doesnât mean I wasnât panicking. I had everything planned out, rehearsed a dozen times, and then you just⊠decided to go off-script.â Shaking your head, you sigh in exasperation. âI mean⊠you know how much I practiced those responses.â
His expression softens, the playful edge fading as he meets your gaze.
âI couldnât help it. I just⊠wanted to be honest.â
The words come out quietly, and for a moment, the sincerity in his voice makes your breath catch. You swallow, your mind flashing back to last night.
âWellâŠâ you manageâvoice softening as you feel the blush return to your cheeks. âA little warning wouldâve been nice. I was just standing there, trying to keep it together while you⊠wellâŠâ
A smirk tugs at his lips as he leans in closer.
âOh? Did I make you nervous, sweetheart?â
You roll your eyes, though your heart flutters at his infuriating charm.
âJust⊠try to give me a heads-up next time you decide to profess your feelings in front of an audience.â
He chuckles again, and this time, his hand finds yoursâintertwining your fingers in a gentle, reassuring hold.
âFair enough,â he murmurs, brushing his thumb softly over your knuckles.
But as his fingers linger, his gaze shifts to the window, his expression tightening ever so slightly. You follow his line of sight, noticing the way his eyes narrow, his jaw setting in subtle concentration.
âSatoru?â a touch of concern creeps into your voice. âIs⊠everything okay?â
Before he can answer, the driverâs voice crackles through the intercomâcalm but cautious.
âMr. Gojo⊠I believe we have a vehicle following us. Theyâve been on our tail since we left the hotel.â
Satoruâs jaw clenches slightly, a flicker of irritation crossing his face as he narrows his eyesâfocused on the dark car trailing a few lengths behind.
âIâm already aware,â he mutters, almost to himself.
Glancing over your shoulder, your eyes land on the vehicle in questionâa sleek, shadowy figure weaving through traffic, keeping pace with the limoâs every turn. A prickle of unease begins to settle in your stomach.
âWho are they?â
âProbably just paparazzi. Itâs nothing new, trust me. Annoying, but they usually give up after a while.â
But as he says this, his expression betrays a hint of tensionâa subtle tightness around his mouth and eyes that doesnât quite match his nonchalance.
You shift in your seat, feeling a mixture of curiosity and unease as the car continues to follow behind, relentless in its pursuitâclinging to your trail like a shadow.
âAnd⊠if they donât give up?â
A flicker of amusement dances across Satoruâs face, though thereâs a guarded glint in his eyes. He lets out a low chuckle and his smirk returnsâsomething unreadable lurking beneath the surface.
âThen Ichiji gives them a little⊠tour of the city.â
As if on cue, Satoru leans forward, pressing a button on the console to speak to the driver.
âIchiji,â he calls, âthink you can lose our friend back there?â
âUnderstood, sir.â
The limo surges forward, weaving through the road as it picks up speedâthe cityscape flashing by in streaks of light and shadowâside streets you didnât even know existed.
Satoruâs hand tightens on yours as you feel the controlled chaos of the limo dipping and swaying with each sharp maneuverâslipping through intersections just before traffic lights change.
Ichijiâs skill is apparent as he navigates the cityâs maze. Yet, each time you risk a glance over your shoulder; the dark vehicle remains close, mirroring every twist and turn with an unsettling persistence.
Satoru catches your glance, and despite the tension etched into his features, he offers you a small, reassuring smile, though a flicker of irritation sharpens his eyes.
âDonât worry,â he gives your hand a comforting squeeze. âIchijiâs handled far worse. Itâs just a nuisanceâprobably some rookie who thinks theyâve found their big break.â
You nod, taking solace in his confidence, but the tension in the car is thick, wrapping around you like a shroud.
After slipping down another narrow street, thereâs a fleeting moment where hope bloomsâyou think youâve finally lost them, that the shadow has fallen away.
But just as you start to relax, a chill races down your spine. Glancing over your shoulder again, there it isâthe dark car, reappearing like a phantom.
Beside you, Satoruâs demeanor shifts, his usual light-hearted smirk fading into something colder, more resolute. Heâs not just irritated anymore; heâs assessing, calculating.
âSir,â the intercom crackles to lifeâIchijiâs voice breaking through with a note of frustration. âTheyâre persistent. Iâve tried several routes, but theyâre still on us.â
Satoruâs jaw tightens, though his voice remains calm, almost casualâa stark contrast to the intensity in his gaze.
âKeep going, Ichiji. Letâs see if theyâre just stubborn⊠or genuinely serious.â
The limo surges forwardâIchiji pushing the car into tighter turns.
As the narrow roads and sharp angles blur past, your body sways, and you find yourself slipping into Satoruâs sideâhis arm instinctively wrapping around you to steady you.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity of winding detours and narrow escapes, Ichiji makes a bold maneuverâa sudden, sharp left down an alley barely wide enough for the limo, followed by a swift merge onto a bustling main road.
With the limo straightening, he picks up speed as it merges seamlessly with the trafficâthe dark vehicle disappearing into the distanceâswallowed by the sea of cars.
Relief washes over you as you look back, and the tension in your body slowly unravels as you sink further into your seat, exhaling a shaky breath.
Satoru lets out his own small sigh, his shoulders loosening as the hard edge in his expression softens slightly.
âPersistent, but not persistent enough,â he mutters, casting a final glance out the rear window before finally turning his full attention back to you.
A relieved laugh slips past your lipsâa blend of amusement and exasperation. You quirk a brow and give him a wry smile.
âSo⊠is this, like, the VIP experience of being married to you? Complimentary car chases and all?â
Satoru snortsâa smirk breaking through his calm facade as he chuckles.
âOnly the deluxe date package, sweetheart. I aim to impress.â
âWell, mission accomplished,â you shoot back, rolling your eyes with a grin. âWhatâs next? Parachuting out of the jet?â
âNot today,â he lets out a dramatic sigh. âBut if you ask nicely, I might arrange it for our next outing,â he adds with a wink.
A soft laugh escapes you, but as the humor fades, a comfortable silence settles between you. The adrenaline from the chase lingers, slowly dissipating into a shared quiet that feels strangely intimate.
Settling back into his seat, Satoruâs gaze drifts to the windowâwatching the city blur past with a distant, almost contemplative expressionâabsently tracing gentle patterns on the back of your hand.
You take the opportunity to study him, observing the subtle lines that have eased from his faceâfor although his hand, still entwined with yours, feels relaxed, thereâs something lingering in his eyes.
A guarded look, a shadow of vigilanceâas though heâs still braced for the next challenge, the next threat lurking around the corner.
You canât help but feel a pang of empathy, a longing to understand, to somehow lighten the burdens he doesnât speak of. And as you sit there, your hand in his, the question rises to the surface, soft but insistent.
âDoes it ever get⊠easier?â
He blinks, pulling his gaze from the window to look at you, a faint surprise flickering in his eyes as he considers your question.
âEasier?â his voice lowers, softened by a hint of weariness. âI guess⊠you learn to live with it,â his gaze drifts again. âThe constant attention, the expectations⊠it just becomes a part of you, like background noise.â
With a subtle pause, a quiet sigh slips from his lips, barely audible.
âPerhaps it only gets easier to pretend it doesnât bother me.â
As his confession hangs between you, your heart aches for himâfor the weight heâs constantly been forced to carry in silence.
Gently, you give his hand a reassuring squeeze, and feeling a surge of tenderness, you shift closerâresting your head against his shoulder in a gesture of quiet support.
âThat must have been⊠hard to grow up with, Satoru.â
A wry smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, his gaze dropping to where your hands are entwined.
âWell⊠when you grow up in a family like mine, you learn early on that everything comes with a price. Privacy, peace, even⊠happiness.â
He pauses, the faintest shadow crossing his face. You feel his hand tense slightly in yours.
âMy father⊠he was very clear about what he expected, what he considered acceptable.â
A flicker of vulnerability passes through his gaze, and for a brief moment, he seems to struggle, as if wrestling with the decision to reveal more or to keep his past guarded.
His jaw tightens, as he reluctantly mutters, ââŠand if something threatened that image?â
Tilting your head slightly, your heart aches as you sense the struggle behind his words.
Thereâs a part of you that dreads the answer, that fears what he might say, but another partâthe part that trusts him, that wants to understandâurges you forward.
âWhat would he do⊠if something threatened it?â
The silence feels heavy, and Satoruâs gaze grows distantâhis eyes unfocused, as if heâs looking at something far beyond the present.
âHeâd⊠handle it,â he pauses, hesitating. âHe had a way of making problems⊠disappear. It didnât matter whatâor whoâgot in the way.â
A chill runs down your spine, his words settling over you like a shadow. And then, like a whisper carried in the wind, another voice intrudes, one youâd rather forgetâNaoya.
âThe Gojo family isnât as squeaky clean as theyâd like everyone to believeâ
Swallowing, the knot in your stomach tightensâuncertainty and unease churning within you.
âCorporate malpractice. Insider trading. Swept under the rug.â
Your mind races with questions, possibilitiesâfragments of a puzzle that feel just out of reach.
But as you look at Satoru, his profile softened by the passing streetlights, his expression seemingly relaxed yet shadowed by an inner turmoilâyou feel an undeniable urge to understand, to know the truthânot from anyone elseâs lips but his.
Whatâs his side of the story?
You chew on the thought, and the question sits heavy on your tongueâtangled with hesitation and a nagging curiosity that prickles under your skin.
Part of you fears what he may reveal; wonders what will come to light if you dare pull back the curtain. But youâve already made your choiceâyou have placed your trust in him, and now, itâs time to act on it.
âHey⊠Satoru?â
At the sound of your voice, his expression softens, his gaze shifting from the window to meet yours, a faint smile touching his lips
âHmm?â
Hesitating for a heartbeat, you gather your courageâfinding your words.
âThereâs⊠something Naoya said thatâs been bothering me.â
Satoruâs brow knits, his relaxed posture shifting as a flicker of apprehension crosses his face. He leans in, subtly closing the distance between you.
ââŠwhat did he say?â
You swallow, steadying yourself.
âHe mentioned⊠a court case. Said it was âswept under the rugâ by your family.â
At this, a faint tension settles over him, and he glances awayâhis gaze clouding as though heâs sifting through memories heâd rather not confront.
âWell⊠Naoyaâs not entirely wrong,â he hesitates, a flicker of something heavy in his eyes. âThere was a case⊠years ago, before my father passed. I⊠wouldnât say it was âswept under the rugâ though.â
Sensing the reluctance in his words, you shift closer, letting your hand rest lightly on his armâa quiet reassurance that he doesnât have to face this alone.
âWhat happened?â you ask gently.
There is a beat of silenceâhis eyes flickering to yours as he lets out a deep sigh.
âLook⊠my father was a powerful man,â he begins, low and guarded. âHe would do whatever he thought was necessary to protect our familyâs legacy. But⊠at some point, having power like that attracts attention from people who want to exploit it.â
With a subtle pause, he holds your gaze, gauging your reactionâalmost as though heâs afraid of what you might think. You offer an encouraging nodâsilently urging him to continue.
âThey were⊠dangerous people,â he continues. âAt first, they saw my fatherâs influence as something they could controlâa tool to serve their agenda. But when he refused to play alongâŠâ his voice trails off, and his lips press into a hard line. âWell, letâs just say they didnât take it well. The retaliation started subtlyâsmall threats, quiet warningsâbut it didnât take long before things began to escalate.â
A prickling unease creeps up your spine, the revelation unfolding an image of his familyâs past that youâd never envisioned.
The Gojos? Entangled in the underworld?
It seems impossibleâabsurd even. Yet, as you watch the subtle tension drawing across Satoruâs face, the disbelief gives way to a somber realization. His familyâs legacy, so polished and prestigious, carries a dark weight thatâs been carefully hidden.
A thousand questions rush through your mind, but one stands out, pressing at the forefront.
âThese peopleâŠâ your fingers brush over his arm in a silent promise of support, âwho were they?â
His hesitation stretches, the tension deepening in his face as his eyes darken. Swallowing, his gaze drops for a moment before he finally murmurs,
âThe yakuza.â
A soft, involuntary gasp escapes youâyour breath catching as the gravity of his words sink in.
âThe yakuza?â
You stare at him, searching his face, trying to fully comprehend the magnitude of what heâs revealingâthough all he offers is a nod, his expression grim.
âI⊠I had no idea it was that serious,â you stammer. âI⊠I thought⊠maybe it was just business rivals or⊠or people with grudges. But⊠the yakuza?â
âYeah⊠they approached my father, tried to pull him into their world. He resisted⊠but with people like them, ânoâ isnât an option. So, they went after what he valued mostâhis reputation. Thatâs why they took him to court.â
As his words sink in, your heart races, a new fear unfurling in your chest, cold and insistent.
If they were willing to tear Satoruâs father down so publicly, to ruin him in order to make a statement, what would stop them from going after what Satoru values most now? The thought sends a ripple of dread through you, heavy and unsettling.
The memory of the car that had tailed you earlier rises unbidden in your mind. Was it really just⊠paparazzi? Or could it have been something more sinister? The possibility claws at you, leaving a hollow ache of unease that tightens around your chest, raw and suffocating.
And then, almost as if summoned by that fear, Haruâs innocent face flashes across your mindâher bright eyes, her soft laughter. The mere thought of her being anywhere near this kind of danger wraps around you like a vice, filling you with a terror that threatens to spill over.
âSatoruâŠâ your voice trembles, the panic creeping in as you whisper, âIf they were willing to go to those lengths⊠what does this mean for us? For Haru?â
Noticing the anxiety bubbling within you, Satoruâs expression softens as his hand finds yoursâwarm and steady, a reassuring grip.
âHey⊠you donât have to worry about that. Not anymore,â his thumb brushes over your knuckles in a soothing rhythm. âMy father⊠he dealt with them. He put their kanbuâToji Zeninâin jail. Since then, theyâve kept quiet.â
Toji ZeninâŠ
As the name rolls off his tongue it lingers in your mind, echoing, triggering something faintly familiar.
âZenin?â you repeat, eyes widening as the realization dawns. âDid you say⊠Toji Zenin?â
He blinks, a flicker of surprise crossing his face as a faint crease forms between his brows. Nodding slowly, his gaze is steady but laced with quiet concern.
âYeah⊠Toji Zenin. Why?â
The pieces fall together in a chilling clarityâa cold, uncomfortable realization settling over you like a shadow. Your pulse pounds in your ears, and your mouth goes dry.
âSatoruâŠâ you inhale sharply. âNaoyaâs last name⊠itâs Zenin.â
A heavy silence fills the car, pressing in from all sides, suffocating in its intensity. Satoruâs eyes widen, a crack in his usual composureâa flicker of shock as he absorbs the implications of your words.
âNaoya⊠is a Zenin?â he murmurs, barely above a whisper.
Leaning back, he releases a sharp exhale as though the weight of this new knowledge has landed squarely on his shoulders. His gaze shifts, unfocused, as he absorbs the impact.
âWell,â he mutters, almost to himself, âthat explains a lot...â
But his reaction only sharpens the tendrils of fear coiling around your heart, constricting until itâs hard to breathe.
Your thoughts spiral, slipping beyond your controlâimages of Haruâs innocent face, of your family thrown into turmoil, of everything you and Satoru are trying to build, crumbling under the threat that looms over you.
âSatoru⊠this⊠this isnât just some family feud, is it?â you struggle to keep your composure. âIf Naoyaâs related to Toji, he wonât just⊠let this go. Oh god⊠what are we going to do?â
Satoruâs expression softens at the panic rising in your tone, and without a word, he shifts closer, reaching out to anchor you. One hand finds yours, wrapping around it in a steadying grip, while his other rises to cradle your face, grounding you in his touch.
âHey⊠shhh, look at me,â his thumb traces a gentle line down your cheek. âI will handle this. I wonât let anything happen to you or to Haru. I promise.â
Searching his face, you are drawn to the quiet intensity of his eyesâthe fierce protectiveness simmering beneath his calm demeanor. Despite the fear gnawing at you, thereâs a flicker of reassurance, a warmth spreading from his touchâone that eases the tension in your chest.
âI know this feels overwhelmingâŠâ he soothes, âbut I guarantee you, whatever Naoya or his family think they can do, they wonât succeed. Not while Iâm here. I donât care who Naoya is or what he thinks heâs capable of. He wonât touch you. He wonât come close to Haru. Not now, not ever.â
The calm certainty in his voice wraps around you, dispelling the worst of the shadows lurking in your mind. Drawing a shaky breath, you nodâclinging to his steady presence as his words sink in.
He leans forward, resting his forehead against yours.
âYouâre safe with me,â his gentle breath fans your face as he caresses your cheek. âNo matter what happens, weâll face it together. Iâll protect you⊠protect our family. I need you to trust me on this sweetheart.â
You squeeze his hand, finding strength in his resolve, in the steady rhythm of his breathingâand for a moment, enveloped in his warmth and the comfort of his words, you allow yourself to believeâif only for a little whileâthat youâre safe.
êš
As the door of the Gojo estate clicks shut behind you, the hurried patter of small feet echoes down the hall. Haru rounds the corner, her small frame skidding slightly as she sees youâeyes wide with relief but a little red-rimmed.
âMama!â
Her bottom lip quivers as she reaches for you, and her little arms are stretched out as far as they can goâdesperate and open.
Dropping to your knees just in time, she crashes into youâher small hands clinging desperately to your shoulders as she buries her face in the crook of your neck.
âOh, sweet girl,â you whisper, pressing a gentle kiss to her head. âI missed you too, baby. Itâs okay. Mamaâs here.â
Itâs all you can do to hold her close, stroking her back in soothing circles as her quiet whimpers are muffled against you. Then, lifting your gaze, you catch the nannyâs gentle, sympathetic smile from where she stands nearbyâwatching the reunion with soft eyes.
âHow was she?â you ask quietly.
The nanny gives a small, reassuring nod.
âShe was very brave,â she says kindly. âThe storm shook her up a bit, but sheâs been a trooper.â
Stepping beside you, Satoruâs comforting hand rests on your shoulder as he listensâhis gaze softening as he looks down at Haru nestled against you. He turns to the nanny, and offers a grateful smile.
âThank you for staying with her through the night. We really appreciate it.â
The nanny smiles, her gaze flickering to Haru, who is now sniffling quietly in your arms.
âOf course, Mr. Gojo. Sheâs a sweetheart.â Leaning down, she pats Haruâs head gently and whispers, âBye Haru. Take care, little one.â
With that, she gathers her things and quietly slips out, leaving the three of you in the quiet of the entryway.
But as the door clicks shut, Haruâs small hands cling even tighter to you, showing no signs of letting up. Her hold is firm, as though sheâs afraid youâll slip away the moment she loosens her grip.
Kneeling down beside you, Satoru reaches out a tentative hand, brushing his fingers gently over her hair.
âHey, Haru,â he clears his throat softly. âIâm⊠glad youâre safe. You had me and your Mama worried, you know.â
Haru shifts a little but keeps her face buried against your shoulder, her grip on you unwavering, causing Satoruâs hopeful smile to falter just a touch. He glances up at you, searching for reassurance.
Your heart swells at his expression. This is uncharted territory for him, and though his effort is sincere, thereâs an unmistakable hint of awkwardness, a subtle vulnerability as he tries to connect.
But youâre grateful heâs trying, grateful for the patience heâs showing even when Haruâs response isnât what he hoped for.
Offering an encouraging smile, you squeeze his hand briefly before looking down at Haru.
âHaru,â you say softly, rocking her slightly, âSatoruâs here too. And you know what? I think he missed you a lot.â
Haruâs little arms only tighten around you in response, her small face nestled firmly against your neck. Thereâs a hint of a pout in her expression as she stubbornly clings to you, seemingly unimpressed by Satoruâs efforts to engage.
With a soft sigh, Satoruâs shoulders slump slightly as he scratches the back of his neck.
âGuess Iâll have to work harder to get on her good side todayâŠâ he murmurs, trying to mask the slight discouragement in his voice.
âSheâs just a little shaken up,â you reassure him, giving his hand another gentle squeeze. âSheâll come around.â
Determined not to give up, Satoruâs expression shifts, a glint of playful determination lighting up his gaze.
Leaning in a little closer, his voice softens, adopting a gentle, almost sing-song tone as he tries againâthis time with a different approach.
âHaruuu~â he coaxes, drawing out her name with a gentle smile. âWhat if we make waffles for breakfast? Would you like that?â
At the mention of waffles, Haruâs grip loosens ever so slightly. Slowly, she peeks out from the safety of your shoulder, her wide eyes darting toward Satoru with a mixture of curiosity and caution. Her little brows knit together as she seems to weigh her options, the slightest glimmer of interest flickering in her gaze.
Satoru notices, his eyes lighting up with a renewed sense of hope. Seizing the moment, he leans in a little closer.
âWe can make them together. Extra syrup, extra whipped cream⊠just how you like it!â
Haru considers this for a moment, still clutching you but her gaze locked on Satoruâdeciding whether his offer is worth leaving her safe place. Then, her small voice, barely above a whisper, asks tentatively,
ââŠwith strawberries?â
Satoruâs face brightens, a wide smile breaking across his features as he nods enthusiastically.
âWith as many strawberries as you want,â he promises. âWeâll pile them up nice and high. Just for you, princess.â
êš
In the cozy warmth of the kitchen, the scent of waffles and melted butter fills the air. Satoruâwho hasnât spent much time at the stove since his first impromptu cooking session with youâfumbles slightly with the waffle iron, his fingers awkward as he glances over at you for guidance every few seconds.
âCareful,â you murmur, stepping forward just in time to guide his hand as he nearly overfills the iron. âRemember, less is more.â
Satoru huffs out a laugh, scratching the back of his head with his free hand.
âRight. I was just⊠testing the limits.â
Rolling your eyes, you nudge him gently with a grin.
âUh-huh. Sure you were.â
âI wanna put the toppings on!â Haru chimes in excitedly, bouncing slightly on her toes as she stands beside him on a step stoolâa can of whipped cream clutched in one hand and a bowl of sliced strawberries in the other.
âHold on, little chef,â Satoru grins, gently steadying her, a hand on her back. âWe gotta make sure the waffleâs just right first. Canât rush perfection.â
Puffing her cheeks, Haru lets out an exaggerated huff as the waffle iron starts to hiss and steam.
âItâs taking forever,â she complains. âMama doesnât take this long.â
Satoru arches a brow in amusement, and you chuckle softly from the counter where youâve discreetly started mixing a separate batch of pancake batter.
âThatâs because Mama knows what sheâs doing,â you tease, glancing over your shoulder at Satoru with a smirk.
Clutching his chest, Satoru gasps in mock offense.
âWow. Betrayed by my own wife. Right in front of our sous-chef.â
Haru giggles at his exaggerated reaction.
âMamaâs the boss,â she declares confidentlyâholding up her can of whipped cream like a trophy.
âYou know what?â Satoru sighs, his grin softening. âYouâre absolutely right. Without her, Iâd probably burn this whole kitchen down.â
You chuckle, stepping closer and leaning in to press a quick kiss to his cheek.
âYouâre sweet,â you say softly. âBut I trust you to handle this. Iâm gonna prep something else over there.â
He blinksâa surprised but pleased smile tugging at his lipsâeyes glimmering with amusement.
âWait, youâre leaving me in charge? Bold move, Mrs. Gojo.â
âVery bold,â you reply with a smirk, backing away toward the counter. âBut I have faith in you. Just keep an eye on the steam. Youâre in charge of waffles and keeping Haru entertained. And donât let her eat all the toppings before the waffles are done.â
âYes, maâam,â he replies with playful seriousness, saluting you with the ladle.
As the waffles cook, you finish mixing the pancake batter and quietly heat the panâkeeping an ear on their conversation. Satoru is showing Haru how to hold the whipped cream can steady, but Haru protests the second he sneaks a strawberry slice from her pile.
âHey! Those are mine!â she pouts, reaching out to swat his hand away as she clutches the bowl protectively against her chest.
âQuality control,â he argues, popping the strawberry into his mouth. âSomeoneâs gotta make sure theyâre not poisoned.â
âNo stealing!â she declares, shoving her own strawberry into her mouth with an exaggerated defiance.
Shaking your head, a quiet laugh escapes you as you pour pancake batter onto the hot pan. The soft sizzle of batter meeting the heat blends seamlessly with the chatter and laughter filling the kitchen.
A few minutes later, Satoru triumphantly announces, âWaffleâs done!â as he carefully lifts the golden creation from the iron and places it on a plate.
Haru squeals with delightâalready reaching for the whipped cream as he sets the plate in front of her.
âCareful, careful,â Satoru warns, steadying the plate with one hand while Haru applies a generous swirl of whipped cream, her tongue sticking out in concentration.
âThere we goâmasterpiece in the making.â
While theyâre distracted, you quietly finish stacking a plate of pancakes, adding a pat of butter and just the right drizzle of syrupâexactly how you know Satoru likes. The warm aroma wafts upward as you carefully carry the plate to the table, setting it down without a word.
Haru, oblivious, is busy adding strawberries to her waffle with a proud grin, but Satoruâs sharp eyes catch the movementâhe pauses mid-motion, his attention snapping to the pancakes. As his eyes widen slightly, his expression shifts to one of boyish delight.
âYou made those?â he asks, stepping closer to the table.
You smile, wiping your hands on a dish towel. âWell, someone mentioned earlier that they were more in the mood for pancakes.â
A slow grin spreads across his face as he steps toward you, his hands settling on your waist as he pulls you into a gentle hug from behind. His chin rests on your shoulder, and his voice softens.
âYou spoil me, you know that?â he murmurs.
Tilting your head slightly, a soft laugh escapes you as you glance at him.
 âMmm⊠well, someone has to keep you in line.â
Haru, catching the exchange, glances up from her waffle with a small pout.
âHey! What about me?â she asks, holding up her masterpiece. âLook at my waffle!â
Satoru straightens up, feigning shock.
âOh, wow, Haru! Thatâs the most beautiful waffle Iâve ever seen. Way better than mine, for sure.â
Her pout shifts to a triumphant grin.
âI know,â she says, plopping a strawberry into her mouth.
êš
The sound of the doorbell echoes through the estate just as youâre finishing your last few bites of breakfast. Haru, seated on her highchair, barely glances up from her waffle masterpieceâher tiny hands busy scooping up a dollop of whipped cream.
You glance at Satoru, curious.
âAre we expecting someone?â
He straightens in his chair, casually wiping his mouth before tossing his napkin onto the table with an ease that feels practiced.
âYeah, I called him first thing this morning.â
Your eyes narrow on him as he rises from his seat.
âCalled who?â
But before he can answer, Ichiji steps into the kitchen doorway, his posture as poised as always.
âMr. GojoâMr. Geto is here to see you.â
âSuguru?â you tilt your head, and your fork clinks softly against the plate as you set it downâmuttering softly, âI didnât know he was coming today.â
âFigures,â a familiar, exasperated voice chimes in. âThatâs because someone didnât give you a heads-up.â
Turning towards the kitchen entrance, you spot Suguru Geto stepping into view. Heâs every bit as composed as you rememberâdressed sharply in a tailored black suit that perfectly complements his tall, lean frameâthough his polished appearance doesnât disguise the easygoing air he carries.
His leather briefcase dangles casually from one hand, and his eyes flicker to youâa polite smile tugging at his lips.
ây/n, nice to see you again.â
âLikewise,â you reply, matching his smile with your own.
Then, Suguruâs attention shifts seamlessly to Satoru, his expression sliding into something closer to feigned annoyance.
âWell,â he exhales dramatically, running a hand through his loosely tied-back hair, âI see youâre wasting no time dragging me into your messes, huh?â
âOur messes,â Satoru corrects smoothly, leaning back against the counter with a grin that radiates shamelessness. He gestures toward the table, a silent invitation for Suguru to join you. âI thought we agreedâyouâre part of this circus now.â
Arching a brow, Suguru shakes his head in amused resignation as he steps further into the room.
âOh, is that what we agreed? Mustâve missed the memo.â
As he approaches the table, his gaze slides back to you, softening slightly.
âAnd how are you holding up, y/n? Still surviving the whirlwind that is Gojo Satoru?â
A chuckle escapes you as you wipe Haruâs syrup-sticky hands with a wet napkin.
âBarely, but I think Iâm getting the hang of it.â
Suguru hums thoughtfully, nodding with approval.
âGood,â he says with a wry smile. âYouâll need to keep up that resilience.â
Setting his sleek briefcase down on the counter with a soft thud, his tone shifts ever so slightly, as he steadily says,
âIâll be representing you in court.â
The weight of his words settles over the room, a sobering reminder of the battle ahead. Yet, as Haru swirls her fork eagerly through her syrup and giggles softly, her blissful innocence seems to lighten the tension just enough.
âThank you,â you say earnestly, your gaze meeting his. âI⊠really appreciate it.â
Suguru offers a confident smile, his presence radiating assurance.
âDonât mention it,â he takes a seat next to you. âWeâll go over everything. Thereâs a lot to cover, but weâll take it one step at a time. Iâm here to make sure youâre prepared.â
From his spot against the counter, Satoru chimes in, his grin practically glowing.
âSee? I told you heâs the best.â
Rolling his eyes, Suguruâs fingers deftly adjust the cuffs of his sleeves.
âFlattery wonât make this any easier, you know,â he quips dryly, though the hint of a grin betrays his amusement. âBut I hope you realize you owe me for this. This isnât exactly light work. Maybe start with some coffee.â
Satoru laughs, stepping over to clap a hand on Suguruâs shoulder with playful force.
âAnything for my favorite lawyer.â
âFavorite?â Suguru deadpans, arching a skeptical brow. âIâm fairly certain Iâm your only lawyer.â
âDetails,â Satoru quips, his grin widening. âBesides, no one else could handle me.â
Suguru sighs, shaking his head in mock defeat as a small smirk pulls at his lips.
âOn that, we agree,â he mutters dryly.
êš
The Gojo study hums with a quiet tension, but the rustle of paper punctuates the stillness as Suguru methodically spreads neatly labeled folders across the polished desk.
In the distance, Haruâs delighted laughter echoes faintly through the halls, a gentle reminder of her presence as Ichiji keeps her entertainedâa task assigned by Satoru to ensure your conversation remains undisturbed.
Leaning against the desk, stands Satoruâarms crossed over his chest. But the absence of his trademark smirk is striking, replaced by a rare focus.
His crystalline blue eyes are sharp, intent, as they flit to you, then to Suguru.
âI appreciate you coming on such short notice,â he begins, low and unusually steady. âLook⊠thereâs a lot we need to get ahead ofâŠâ
Suguru waves off the gratitude with a flick of his wrist, flipping open a folder.
âNo problem. Iâm used to you dragging me into your messes, remember?â His lips tug into a faint smirk. âBesides, this oneâs actually important.â
Sitting across from Suguru, you shift in your seat, your hands clasped tightly in your lap. The weight of uncertainty presses against your chest as your eyes drift to Satoru, who stands as if bracing himself to deliver a blow.
âSuguru,â he begins, tone sharpening, âwe found out something big. About Naoya.â
Suguruâs brow arches in mild curiosity, but he continues thumbing through the documents, waiting for Satoru to continue.
âHeâs a Zenin.â
The folder in Suguruâs grasp stillsâfreezing mid turn. His dark eyes flick up, recognition flaring in his gaze, followed swiftly by something colder, heavier.
âA Zenin?â
âYup,â pushing off the desk, Satoru leans forward to plant both palms on its polished surface. âHeâs got more resources than we thought. Weâre not just dealing with some rich, bitter exâweâre going up against the yakuza.â
Suguru exhales sharply, leaning back in his chair as his fingers rub at his chin. The lines of his face sharpen, his usual easygoing demeanor slipping into something far more calculating.
âZenin⊠Naoya ZeninâŠâ he mutters, almost to himself, then, a wry smile ghosts across his lips, void of any warmth. âOf course, itâs him. I knew the name sounded familiar.â
You lean forward slightly, soft but urgent.
âYou know him?â
As Suguruâs gaze flickers to you, his expression darkensâhe nods.
âWe went to the same law school. Different years, but our paths crossed a few times.â Shaking his head, he lets out a low, humorless chuckle. âHeâs⊠not exactly the type you forget.â
Your breath hitches as you glance at Satoru, who straightens slightlyâa glimmer of curiosity breaking through the severity in his expression.
âYouâre kiddingâŠâ his head tilts as he studies Suguru. âWhat was he like?â
Suguru snorts softly, but the sound carries no humor.
âArrogant. Ruthless. Heâd throw anyone under the bus if it meant getting aheadâprofessors, classmates, even so-called friends. And he did it with a smile, like it was a game. He was top of his class, but not because he was the smartest. No, Naoya Zenin was the most cutthroat. Every victory he claimed was calculated, every move designed to humiliate someone else.â
Satoruâs jaw tightens at the description, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the edge of the desk.
âSounds about right,â he mutters under his breath.
But as Suguruâs dark eyes sharpen, a flicker of protectiveness flash within them as he turns to you.
âIf heâs tied to the yakuza, we need to be strategic. This isnât just a custody battle anymoreâitâs a power play. Heâs going to use every trick in the book to undermine you, y/n.â
The knot in your stomach tightens, your hands clasping harder in your lap as you force yourself to speak.
ââŠwhat do we do?â
Leaning forward, Suguru rests his elbows on the desk as he fixes you with a steady gaze.
âWe build your case airtight. Document everythingâyour role in Haruâs life, your finances, your relationship with Satoru. We highlight whatâs best for her, and we get ahead of whatever dirt heâs going to try to throw your way.â
Satoru plops down in the seat beside youâa casualness that doesnât quite match his intensity. As he kicks up his feet, his lips twist into a determined scowl.
âAnd if he steps out of line,â he grits, âwe make sure he regrets it.â
Suguru raises a brow at Satoruâs bluntness but doesnât refute him. Instead, he turns his attention back to you, his expression softening slightly.
âIf Naoyaâs involved, heâll stop at nothing to win. But that also makes him predictableâat least to someone who knows how he operates. And fortunately for you, I do. His yakuza connections might make him dangerous, but they also make him vulnerable if we play this right.â
Nodding slowly, the steady conviction in Suguruâs voice grounds you, even as the gravity of the situation sinks in. But then, as your gaze shifts to Satoru, you catch sight of him, leaning back furtherâhis hands clasped behind his head as a faint smirk tugs at his lips.
âWell,â he exhales with a playful glint, âif anyone can turn this into an advantage, itâs you, Suguru.â
Arching a brow, Suguruâs lips curve into a wry smile.
âMore flattery, huh? You must really want me to win this.â
Satoruâs grin widens, his signature charm slipping back into place as he shrugs.
âHey, Iâm just giving credit where creditâs due. Besides, Iâm kind of depending on you here.â
Rolling his eyes, the faintest trace of a smirk lingers on Suguru as he settles back in his chair.
âDonât worry,â he reassures. âBy the time Iâm done, Naoya wonât know what hit him.â
The moment feels lighter, more hopeful, but itâs short-lived as Suguru turns his attention back to you. The weight of his gaze is discerning, his tone shifting into something sharper, more direct.
âAll right, y/n,â he begins, flipping open a folder and grabbing a pen. âLetâs get into it. I need to know everything about your history with Haruâhow long youâve cared for her, the kind of stability youâve provided. What does your day-to-day with her look like?â
You blink, caught off guard by the abrupt shift in tone, but you clear your throat and nod.
âRight⊠um, well, Iâve been her primary caregiver since she was born. Iââ
Suguru lifts a hand, halting you mid-sentence.
âActually, letâs start from the very beginning. What were the circumstances that led to Haru? Your relationship with Naoya? The more details, the better.â
As the question lingers in the air, you hesitateâyour gaze dropping to your hands while your fingers twist anxiously in your lap.
Talking about Haru is easyâsheâs your light, your joy. But the road that brought you to her⊠thatâs where the cracks lie.
With a deep breath, youâre unable to meet Suguruâs steady gaze, so instead, you glance toward Satoru.
Heâs leaning forward nowâelbows resting on his thighs, watching you intently. There is an unwavering reassurance in his soft expression, urging you to continue.
Holding onto that look for a moment, you let it push you forward.
âHaru wasnât planned,â you admit quietly, voice trembling slightly. âAt first, it was⊠okay. Naoya was never exactly hands-on, but he wasnât hostile either. I think⊠back then, maybe he thought Haru might be useful to him someday.â
Suguruâs pen doesnât pause as he scribbles notes, his eyes briefly flicking up to meet yours.
âUseful? In what way?â
You shift uncomfortablyâyour hands continuing to twist in your lap.
âTo him, it was always about control,â the words come slower now, as if youâre piecing them together. âHaving a childâespecially one he thought he could⊠shapeâmeant he could use her somehow, like leverage. But when he realized Haru was⊠more work than he expected, he just⊠started pulling away.â
Satoruâs jaw sets tightly, his lips pressing into a thin line. Leaning back slightly, his fingers drum sharply against the armrest of the chair as Suguru presses gently.
âPulling away how?â
You hesitate, your voice quieter now.
âHe started coming home less⊠and when he was home, it was like walking on eggshells. Nothing was ever good enoughâhow I held her, how I fed her, how IâŠâ Drawing in a shaky breath, your voice wavers slightly. âHow I was raising her. He had an opinion about everything. I couldnât do anything right.â
Suguruâs pen stills, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he listens intently. Across from you, Satoruâs posture stiffens further, and you can see his knuckles whitening where they grip the armrest.
âI was young and scared,â your voice wavers, tinged with a quiet shame. âAnd I thought⊠I thought I could change him. That maybe things would get better.â
Your gaze drops to your lap again, your fingers twisting together so tightly it feels like your knuckles might split.
âBut⊠they didnât. If anything, they got worse. He would question every choice I made as a mother. And when I tried to stand up for myselfâŠâ
Trailing off, the memories send a familiar shiver down your spineâyour body trembling slightly as you attempt to take in a deep, shaky breath.
ây/n,â Suguruâs voice pulls you back gently, and his gaze is steady, though thereâs a slight edge of concern to it. âThis is important. Was there ever any⊠abuse? Emotional or otherwise?â
Unable to look up, you can feel both menâs eyes on youâSuguruâs sharp and calculating, Satoruâs burning with barely restrained anger. Cautiously, you take in another shaky breath.
âIt⊠depends on what you define as abuse. He never hit me, if thatâs what you mean. But he didnât have to,â pausing, your hands twist tighter in your lap. âThere were times⊠when heâd get angry, really angry, and heâd slam thingsâdoors, tables. It was enough to make me⊠worry about pushing him too far.â
The room is suffocatingly silent as your words hang in the air.
As the pressure builds in your chest, the shame coils tighter with each second that passes. Speaking the truth aloud feels like ripping open an old woundâexposing the raw, aching parts of yourself that youâve worked so hard to keep hidden.
For a moment, you wish you could take it all back, swallow the words and let them die in your throat. But then you think of Haruâher tiny hands reaching for yours, her laughter echoing faintly through the estate.
This isnât just about you anymore. It never was.
But as the trembling in your fingers begins to spread to your shoulders, you force yourself to breathe, to focusâthough the weight of their stares only crush you further.
Is this what it feels like to be seen? To have someone actually listen?
âIs⊠is that enough?â you whisper, the question trembling as it leaves your lips.
âOh, itâs enough,â Satoruâs voice cuts through suddenly, snapping your eyes up to meet his. The restrained rage is radiating off him like heat. But then his gaze softensâjust slightlyâand when it meets yours, you see something else beneath the anger.
Something quieter, deeper. A promise.
âMore than enoughâŠâ he murmurs.
Swallowing hard, youâre unsure if the tears welling in your eyes are from relief or the overwhelming vulnerability coursing through you.
Youâve handed them a piece of yourself youâll never get back, and yet, for the first time, you donât feel entirely alone in carrying it.
ây/n,â Suguru begins, leaning forward slightly, âwhat youâre describing⊠controlling behavior, intimidation, emotional manipulationâthat is abuse.â
Thereâs a quiet emphasis in his words, as if heâs trying to make sure you truly hear him.
âEven if he didnât put his hands on you, using fear and control to keep you in line is just another way to break someone without leaving a mark.â
His acknowledgement is both freeing and suffocatingâand as the truth of his words sink in slowly, for a moment, all you can do is nodâyour throat too tight to form a proper response.
âI think weâve covered enough for today,â Satoru says suddenly, leaving no room for argument. He rises from his seat. âWe can pick this back up tomorrow.â
Opening his mouth to protest, the words are poised on the tip of Suguruâs tongue, but Satoru silences him with a single sharp glance and a slight shake of his headânot aggressive, but firm.
âSheâs been through enough for one day,â his gaze flickers to you, and the edge of his earlier anger melts away into something gentler as he murmurs, âlet her breathe.â
Suguru hesitates, studying Satoru for a moment, before letting out a sigh. He leans back in his chair, snapping his folder shut with a quiet click.
âAlrightâŠâ he concedes, âWeâll pick this up tomorrow.â
The tension in the room eases slightly as Suguru begins to gather his papers, but your body remains tautâlike a string pulled too tightly.
Managing a small nod, gratitude blooms in your chest, though youâre not sure how to voice it. Your lips part to say something to Satoruâanythingâbut the words refuse to come.
Stepping closer, Satoru reaches your side, and he crouches slightly, bringing himself closer to your eye level. As he lifts his hand, his fingers graze your cheek, softly tucking back a loose strand of your hair.
âCome on,â he whispers, âLetâs get out of here.â
And for the first time since the conversation began, you feel like you can finally exhale.
êš
After Suguru leaves, Satoru doesnât say much about your conversation in the study. There are no heavy discussions, no probing questions. Instead, his actions do the talkingâoffering a steadying presence that words could never match.
He eases you into a rhythm that feels unhurried and safe, and at the center of it all is Haruâher bright energy pulling you both into her orbit like a tiny sunâmelting away all lingering shadows of worry.
Itâs just the three of youâembracing the gentle cadence of togethernessâthe hours blurring into a soft haze of tender moments, strung together like beads on a necklace.
Though what surprises you most, is Satoru.
Heâs not the detached observer youâve come to expect but something entirely differentâpresent, engaged, and effortlessly intertwined in the fabric of the day.
Perhaps itâs the shift in your relationshipâthe silent understanding that this isnât a charade anymore. Or maybe itâs his resolve to carve out a meaningful connection with Haru, to find his own place in her world.
Whatever the reason, he is there, fully and completely.
When Haru launches into a vivid narration of her stuffed animalsâ daring adventures, Satoru listens with rapt attention, as if each word holds the weight of an epic tale.
Later, when she declares itâs time for an impromptu tea party, he folds his tall frame onto the floor without hesitation,
The sight is almost absurdâthis man, so completely out of place yet so effortlessly part of it all. And as the day fades into evening, his presence remains constant, even as the tempo slows.
With bedtime arriving, he follows you and Haru to her room, lingering in the warm glow of her nightly routine. Itâs the first time heâs joined you, yet thereâs something achingly natural about itâhim sitting cross-legged on the floor as you read her favorite storyâthe three of you together in that small, cozy space.
Itâs almost as if this is how itâs always been, or perhaps how it was always meant to beâbecause now that the facade has fallen away, thereâs a quiet sincerity in the way Satoru moves through this new dynamic, as though heâs made the deliberate choice to truly belong to it.
But when Haruâs eyelids grow heavier, her small body relaxes in your arms, and Satoru suddenly rises to his feet.
Glancing up at him, a question flickers in your gaze, but he only steps closer, slow and unhurried.
âI have to take care of something,â he whispers quietly, leaning down to brush a featherlight kiss upon your temple. âFinish up here. Iâll be waiting downstairs.â
Arching a brow, you study how his lips curve into the faintest smirkâbut not wanting to disturb Haruâs peaceful state, you simply offer him a subtle nod as he quietly steps out of the room.
The door closes with a soft click, leaving you alone with Haruâand the room feels a touch emptier without him.
Focusing your attention back to her, you hum a quiet lullaby, feeling her breathing grow deeper, steadier, until at last, sheâs fully surrendered to sleep.
Slowly, as not to wake her, you rise from your seat and carefully lower her into her bedâsmoothing the blanket over her small frame and pressing a kiss to her forehead. Her peaceful expression tugs at your heart, and you whisper a soft goodnight before tiptoeing to the door.
Closing the door gently behind you, the soft click of the latch settles into the stillness of the hallway, and for a moment, you linger there, exhaling deeply as you close your eyes brieflyâletting the dayâs weight slip from your shoulders.
Itâs been quite a day⊠and this is only the beginningâŠ
But once you turn to head down the hallway, something catches your eyeâsomething unexpected.
Just outside Haruâs door, lies a delicate trail of flower petalsâsoft pinks and whites, scattered purposefully across the floor, stretching out before you like a whispered invitation.
You blink, your brows furrowing in curiosity as you step closer. The petals wind down the hallway, forming a path that seems to beckon you forward.
A small, amused smile tugs at your lips as a thought flickers in your mind.
What on earth is Satoru up to now?
Following the petals, your bare feet pad lightly against the polished wood, and eventually, they lead you to the top of the staircaseâcascading down the steps in a soft, scattered rhythm.
You move forwardâdescending the stairs, pursuing the trail that spills into the expansive space of the Gojo estate. The petals seem to playfully weave through the living area, pulling you deeper into the quiet elegance of the house.
But as the trail leads you through the kitchen, where the petals curve gently around the island in a playful arc, your gaze follows the path to the French doors, slightly ajar at the far end of the kitchen.
The sheer curtains ripple softly, brushing against the doorframe as the night breeze slips through, and with it, the breeze carries a faint crackle of fireâtugging at your curiosity.
Your heart quickens in anticipation as you step closer, nudging the doors open. The cool air greets you first, but as you step out onto the deck, the sight before you takes your breath away.
The space is utterly transformed.
A canopy of fairy lights stretches overheadâdraped elegantly between tall, polished beams that frame the space in a way that feels both intimate and magicalâas if the stars themselves have been drawn closer just for this moment.
And at the heart of the deck, a sleek fire pit burns steadilyâits flames dancing in a quiet symphony of amber and gold. The flickering light spills across the rich wood of the deck, and the plush outdoor seatsâcasting shadows that sway with the rhythm of the fire.
To your left, the gentle bubbling of a hot tub catches your attention.
Steam rises from its surface, curling into the night air in lazy spirals, before dissolving into the cool breeze. Itâs nestled into a private nook, bordered by sculpted planters. Small lanterns are tucked among the foliage, creating halos of warmthâa secluded sanctuary.
To your right, the deck stretches out toward an infinity pool that gleams like liquid glass under the fairy lights.
The water ripples faintly, mirroring the twinkling canopy above the deep indigo sky. And as the poolâs edge vanishes into the darkness, it blends seamlessly with the gardenâs manicured hedges and flowerbeds.
But your gaze is inevitably drawn back to the center of the deckâto him.
Satoru.
Illuminated by the flickering firelight, you catch sight of him leaning casually against one of the polished beamsâa picture of effortless elegance.
His white hair shimmers under the canopy lights, and beside him, sits a low coffee table. A bottle of champagne rests on the surface, nestled in an ice bucket, and a tray of chocolate truffles lies alongside it, arranged with deliberate care.
With one hand tucked in his pocket, his posture is relaxedâexuding that effortless air of confidence. His other hand cradles a champagne flute, dangling it delicately between his fingers.
Then, as you meet his gaze, his lips tug up into that faint lopsided smileâthe one that always seems to hold a thousand meaningsânone of which heâll ever fully explain.
âHey,â he murmurs. âTook ya long enough.â
The hand in his pocket moves toward the champagneâhis fingers brushing the neck of the bottle with an idle, almost careless grace. Tilting his head slightly, his eyes catch the light while his smile deepens.
âWas starting to think you got lost.â
The familiar humor in his tone pulls a soft laugh from your lips, but itâs the look in his eyes that makes your breath hitchâsoft, unguarded, and entirely yours.
As you step forward, your feet brush against the soft petals, scattered across the deck.
âWhatâs all this, Satoru?â
His eyes soften, though the playful curve of his grin doesnât waver. With a smooth motion, he uncorks the champagneâthe quiet pop breaking the stillness.
âMmm⊠just something you deserve.â
Pouring the champagne into both glasses, his eyes flick up to meet yours, a playful glint sparking in their depths.
âLately, youâve been carrying the world on your shoulders. Tonight⊠let me take a little of that weight.â
You blink, his words settling heavily in your chest as he steps closer, holding the glass out to you. As you take the glass from him, your fingers brush his briefly, and the simple touch sends a shiver skimming across your skin.
âYou⊠didnât have to do all this.â
His expression softens further, and his free hand reaches for yoursâa touch warm and steady as your fingers gently intertwine.
âI know⊠but I wanted to. Youâve had a hell of a day, sweetheart. You deserve something special.â
Your lips part as if to respond, but the words catch in your throatâstolen by the sincerity in his voice and the way his thumbs brush softly over your knuckles. His gaze makes it impossible to think, let alone speak.
Tilting his head slightly, his grin widens, and that spark of playfulness returns to his expression.
âCâmon now,â he murmurs, a soft drawl, âare you gonna let me spoil you? Or are you planning to argue with me all night?â
A quiet laugh escapes youâbreaking through the lump in your throat as you shake your head lightly, bringing the champagne glass to your lips.
âOh, I donât know⊠arguing with you is kind of my favorite pastimeâŠâ
His brows lift, amusement flickering across his face as he leans just slightly closer.
âOh, is that so? Well, sweetheart, I hate to break it to ya, but youâre not winning this one.â
âFine,â you sigh, smiling. âBut⊠only because youâre impossible to argue with when you look at me like that.â
His grin deepens, a flicker of triumph lighting his expression as he gives your hand a gentle squeeze.
âSmart choice,â he winks, tilting his head toward the seating area. âNow, câmon. Letâs sit.â
Leading you towards the fire pit, the moment you both reach the couch, he releases your handâgesturing with a playful flourish.
âAfter you, princess.â
Rolling your eyes, you sink into the cushions. The heat from the firepit warms your skin as he settles beside you, close enough that your knees subtly brush.
For a moment, the world feels smallerâjust the two of you, the crackle of the fire, and the faint hum of the night. Sipping your champagne, the bubbles fiz gently on your tongue as you glance sideways at him.
He leans back, draping one arm along the back of the couch, his posture relaxed but his eyes focused solely on you.
âSoâŠâ he starts, voice softer now, âI think Haru was warming up to me today. Did you see the way she handed me her Pikachu like it was a peace offering?â
A soft laugh escapes you, and you nod, relaxing further into the cushions as the warmth of the fire wraps around you.
âI did. Pikachu is her most prized possession, you know⊠she doesnât hand him over lightly.â
Satoru raises a brow, his grin widening with unmistakable pride as he leans forward to grab a truffle from the platter.
âAhhh, so Iâve officially been accepted into her inner circle?â He pops it into his mouth, chewing slowly before pointing a playful finger at you. âThatâs a big deal, right?â
âOh, itâs huge,â you tease lightly, swirling your glass as you watch him. âHaru doesnât trust just anyone with Pikachu. You should consider yourself lucky.â
He chuckles, turning to fully face you now as he shifts his weight, resting his elbow on the back of the couch and propping his chin in his hand.
âI do. But now Iâm wonderingâŠâ he pauses, his eyes widening dramatically with mock seriousness, âOh god⊠have I peaked? What comes after Pikachu? Do I get a spot on her bedtime story roster?â
You laugh softly, shaking your head as you lean forward to grab your own truffle, popping it into your mouth with an exaggerated chew.
Swallowing, you mirror his position, your elbow resting against the back of the couch as your fingers absentmindedly toy with the edge of your glass.
âNonsense, youâre already on it. Didnât you notice the way she was sneaking glances at you during her book tonight? She was practically daring you to jump in.â
His brow arches in surprise, and his grin softens as he watches you, lingering as though memorizing the curve of your smile.
âReally?â he murmurs, sighing softly, âDamn⊠missed my chance. I guess next time, Iâm doing all the voices for her.â
You share a quiet laugh, and the sound seems to stretch between you, filling the space with a lightness that feels almost fragile. The firelight dances across his face, painting shadows that soften the sharp angles of his features and highlight the lopsided curve of his smile.
As he shifts closer, the fabric of the couch creaks softly, and his knee brushes against yours again, the subtle contact sending a quiet jolt through you. He settles directly next to you now, close enough that the warmth of his presence mingles with the heat of the fire.
For a beat, he just looks at you, his expression unguarded, the teasing edge in his smile replaced by something deeper. The crackle of the fire fills the quiet space between you, and his voice dips lower, softer.
âYou know⊠I think the real challenge isnât winning over Haru though. Itâs keeping up with you.â
You raise an eyebrow, but the weight of his gaze makes your chest tighten, a warmth spreading through you. A shy smile tugs at your lips, and you lower your eyes briefly before meeting his again.
âOh, stop itâŠâ you murmur, edged with a breathy laugh. âYouâre keeping up just fine.â
Tilting his head slightly, he studies you, the firelight casting golden highlights across his face. As his grin softens, the shift in his expression draws you in, your pulse thrumming faintly in your ears.
âI donât know about thatâŠâ he murmurs. âYou set the bar pretty high. Youâre⊠really amazing with her, you know that?â
The sincerity in his tone disarms you, stealing the words from your tongue. Glancing down at your glass, your fingers trace the delicate stem in a deliberate motion now.
But the quiet heat of his gaze pulls you back. It always does.
âYou make it look so easy,â he continues, quieter now. âThe way you handle everythingâitâs like⊠second nature to you.â
You shrug lightly, though the weight of his words stirs something deep within you, curling around the parts of you that often feel worn and stretched too thin.
Exhaling slowly, a faint smile flickers across your lips.
âItâs just⊠what you do when youâre a parent. You just⊠figure it out as you go, I guess.â
He watches you for a moment longer, and then his lips curve into a small, lopsided smile.
Lifting his champagne to his lips, he takes a slow sip, his eyes never leaving yours as he leans back slightly.
âWellâŠâ he says, his eyebrows raising as he sets the glass down on the table. âIâm figuring out that bribery works. Waffles for the win, huh? Glad she let me in today. Even if I had to work for it.â
Your laugh comes easily, shaking your head as you set your own glass aside.
âCome on now. It wasnât just the waffles,â you counter, meeting his gaze fully now. âYouâre good with her, Satoru. She sees that. And so do I.â
His grin falters slightly, softening into something quieter, more vulnerable. The playful edge that feels so naturally him gives way to an expression so raw and genuine it almost takes your breath away.
Shifting again, he leans just a little closer, tilting his head as his eyes search yours.
âYou⊠really think so?â he whispers, a quiet thread of uncertainty lacing his tone.
Your chest tightens at the openness in his expression, the way heâs looking at you as though your answer means everything.
Slowly, you reach out, your fingers brushing lightly against his hand as you offer him a small, reassuring smile.
âI know so.â
Your fingers move slowly, languidly against the back of his hand, both deliberate and tender, and he responds with his own subtle movement, interlacing his fingers with yours.
âShe doesnât warm up to people easily, but with youâŠâ you pause, searching his gaze as the firelight casts golden reflections in the depths of his eyes, âI think⊠she feels safe.â
He exhales softly, his gaze dropping briefly to your joined hands, his thumb brushing against your skin in a slow, thoughtful motion. The quiet crackle of the fire fills the space between you before he finally speaks.
âThatâs all I want,â he murmurs, and as he looks back up at you, his expression is raw with sincerity. âFor her to feel safe⊠for both of you to feel safe.â
His words settle over you like a weight, soft but heavy, pulling your thoughts to a place youâve tried to avoid. The sharp edges of Naoyaâs threats resurfaceâthe dangers of the yakuza.
Satoruâs gaze sharpens instantly, as if he can sense the shift, the way your fingers falter against his. His grip tightens slightly, grounding you before the spiral can take hold.
âHey,â he murmurs, his tone low and steady, pulling your focus back to him. âSheâs going to be okay, you know. Haru. Sheâs got you.â He pauses, his eyes softening as a faint smile tugs at the corners of his lips. âAnd⊠sheâs got me too.â
The sincerity in his voice pulls at the tight knot in your chest, loosening it just enough to let a quiet breath escape. His hand squeezes yours, gentle but firm, and the steadiness of his presence wraps around you like the fireâs warmth.
âCâmon,â he adds, his tone lightening, playful now, âno worrying tonight, alright? Just⊠let me take care of you for once. Relax. Let me spoil you.â
The corners of your mouth lift despite yourself, and your gaze shifts toward the bubbling water of the jacuzzi in the corner of the deck, steam curling into the night air like an invitation.
âWellâŠâ your voice lilts teasingly as your eyes flick back to his, âI was eyeing that jacuzziâŠâ
His grin widens instantly, the familiar spark of mischief returning to his expression.
âOh, were you now?â he drawls, already standing and tugging you gently to your feet. âGuess I better make good on my promise to spoil you, then.â
Leading you to the edge of the jacuzzi, the bubbling water shimmers under the soft glow of the fairy lights, and the quiet hum of the jets fill the space between you.
But as soon as he releases your hand, his attention shifts to the buttons of his shirt. With deliberate, unhurried movements, he pops the first one open, instantly drawing your gaze like a magnet.
You blink, your breath hitching as his shirt falls openâthe fabric slipping off his shoulders, pooling at his feet to reveal the smooth, toned planes of his chest. The firelight catches the lean lines of his frame and the faint gleam of his skin.
Tossing his shirt casually onto a nearby lounge chair, his grin turns devilish as his eyes meet yours.
âWhat?â he teases, entirely too smug. âFigured Iâd lead by example.â
For a moment, he stands there, utterly composed, as though he knows exactly the effect heâs having on you. Which, of course, he does. The subtle curve of his lips, the relaxed angle of his stanceâeverything about him radiates confidence.
You huff softly, though the heat rising in your cheeks betrays you, and as your gaze flickers to the water, you shuffle slightlyânerves fluttering in your stomach.
Bathing suits hadnât even crossed your mind tonight, let alone his, and now⊠now youâre standing there, knowing what comes next but feeling completely unprepared for it.
The thought of stripping down in front of him? Oh god⊠it makes your stomach flutter with anticipation.
âI-IâŠâ you stammer, biting your lip as your fingers fidget with the hem of your shirt. âUm⊠I wasnât exactly prepared for thisâŠâ
His grin softens, though his playful tone remains.
âWhat, nervous? Itâs just me.â He gestures toward the jacuzzi with a slight tilt of his head. âCâmon, your turn. Unless youâre planning on soaking fully clothed?â
Your lips part to protest, but the words catch in your throat. The warmth creeping down your neck has your pulse thrumming, and you quickly avert your gaze.
âTurn aroundâŠâ you mutter finally, barely meeting his eyes.
He chuckles, low and warm
âReally? After everything?â
But as you give him a pointed look, his amusement softens into something gentler.
âAlright, alright...â he turns with a mock sigh, hands raised in exaggerated surrender. âIâll behave.â
True to his word, he faces the firepit, though you catch the playful tilt of his head as he calls over his shoulder, âJust donât take too long. Iâll be claiming the best spot for myself if you do.â
Rolling your eyes, the faintest laugh escapes your lips despite your nerves. But as soon as you hear the soft clink of his belt buckle, your heart leaps, and you quickly turn your focus to your own clothes.
Your shirt comes off first, followed by the rest, peeling them off piece by piece. But for a moment, your fingers linger at the clasp of your bra, and your gaze flickers to his back, broad and steady in the firelight.
Oh god⊠should you?
Before sitting on the thought for too long, on a whim, you unhook itâslipping it off and setting it down with the rest of your clothes. The cool air kisses your bare skin, and you cross your arms instinctively over your chest, feeling exposed yet exhilarated.
Left only in your panties, you step toward the edge of the jacuzzi, the steam curling against your skin like a whispered invitation.
As you dip a tentative foot in the water, behind you, Satoru shifts slightly. Heâs stripped down to his boxersâan easy confidence radiating even as he waits.
âYou okay back there?â he calls, light and teasing. âNot chickening out on me, are you?â
âI-Iâm fine,â you reply quickly, the quiver in your voice betraying you. âJust⊠wait.â
Slowly, you sink into the bubbling water, the warmth melting away your nerves as the jets hum softly against your skin. The water laps at your shoulders as you settle into a corner, your gaze flickering to him nervously.
âOkay⊠you can look now.â
Satoru turns, his gaze sweeping over you briefly, a triumphant grin curling upon his lips before he steps into the jacuzzi. His broad frame settles into the water with a quiet sigh, and the firelight dances along the droplets clinging to his skin.
Sliding into the spot beside you, he stretches his long arms along the edges of the tub while he sinks back, but thereâs a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he stares at you, one that instantly puts you on guard.
âWhatâŠ?â you glance at him sideways, raising an eyebrow. âWhy are you looking at me like that?â
âOh, nothing,â he drawls, his smirk widening into a full grin. âJust wondering how I got so lucky to share a jacuzzi with such esteemed company.â
Rolling your eyes, you exhale with amusement.
âYouâre ridiculous,â you mutter.
âMm, so Iâve been told,â he quips.
As he leans his head back against the edge of the jacuzzi, the firelight casts golden highlights across the sharp angles of his face. Tilting his head slightly, he lets out a theatrical sigh.
âWell, well⊠look at you, finally relaxing. Didnât think Iâd ever see the day.â
Your smile softens as you close your eyes briefly, letting the warmth of the water and his teasing words melt away all the lingering tension in your chest.
âWell, the hot tub helps,â you admit, glancing at him again. âGotta say, this was a good idea.â
The water ripples softly between you as he shifts, leaning closerâhis arm sliding along the edge behind you. The proximity makes your pulse stir faintly, though you try not to let it show.
âIâll take partial credit for that,â his grin widens, triumphant and full of mischief. âAfter all, this was my idea.â
âYour idea to spoil me, you mean,â you counter, raising an eyebrow. âMy idea for the hot tub.â
Satoru hums thoughtfully, tilting his head toward you, feigning consideration.
âTechnically,â he begins, holding up a finger, âWho was it that brought you out here, hmm? The petals? The champagne? The fire? You wouldnât even be in this hot tub if it werenât for my setup. So, really, itâs all connected to me.â
You scoff, though the laughter bubbling up in your throat betrays you.
âOh, is that how it works now? Youâre just taking full credit for everything?â
âNot taking full credit,â he corrects. âJust⊠connecting the dots. Itâs a chain of events, sweetheart. Genius-level planning, if I do say so myself.â
Shaking your head, you laugh as the water ripples softly around you.
âCareful, Satoru. Your egoâs showing.â
âMy ego? Sweetheart, this isnât egoâitâs confidence.â
âOh, my god,â you laugh, sending a playful splash of water his way. âYouâre absolutely impossible.â
He gasps dramatically, clutching his chest in mock outrage.
âDid you just assault me? In my own jacuzzi? The audacity.â
âYour jacuzzi?â you tease, arching a brow. âPretty sure itâs our jacuzzi now, buddy.â
âOho, is that right?â he murmurs, grin widening into something sly. âBecause from where Iâm sitting, youâre the one trespassing.â
Before you can retort, his hand dips into the water, sending a small wave your way in retaliation. The warm splash catches you off guard, and you let out a startled laugh, lifting your arms defensively to shield yourself, but careful not to expose your chest.
âSatoru!â you protest, but heâs already closing the distance between you, the playful challenge in his eyes unmistakable.
âYou started it,â he teases.
Moving closer with a daring glint, his knee brushes against yours beneath the water. The contact is subtle, but it sends a ripple of warmth through you.
âSatoruâŠâ you warn again, lacking any real bite.
Pressing closer, his arm comes to rest along the edge of the tub behind you, caging you in with a mix of ease and intention. The bubbling water hums softly against your skin, but itâs nothing compared to the heat radiating from him now.
Your pulse quickens and you press your back slightly against the edge. His proximity suddenly becomes overwhelming as he brings his face mere inches from your own.
âHmm?â his head tilts slightly and the damp strands of his hair fall just over his brow.
Your lips part as his gaze drops brieflyâtracing the soft flush in your cheeks and lingering on the delicate curve of your lipsâbefore returning to your eyes.
Suddenly, you feel his hand move beneath the water, brushing lightly against your thigh in a way that feels far too casual to be accidental.
âSomething wrong princess?â he murmurs, low, velvety smooth.
Your breath hitches, your throat tightening under the weight of his gaze. The bubbling water ripples softly as you shift, your cheeks burning.
âN-no⊠nothingâs wrongâŠâ
For a beat, he doesnât moveâhis face close enough that you can feel the faint warmth of his breath mingling with the rising steam. His smirk softens slightly, and his eyes darken with something deeperâthe tension in the air almost tangible.
Then, as his gaze dips once more, for a moment, you swear heâs about to close the distance entirelyâto capture your lips in a kiss that would leave you utterly breathless. But just as quickly, he seems to catch himself.
Pulling back ever so slightly, his jaw clenches faintly and his eyes flicker with restraint.
âRelax, sweetheart,â he sighs, the teasing lilt returning to his tone as he settles into his seat beside you. âI was just enjoying the view.â
Swallowing hard, the tension still hums through your veins as you glance away briefly, focusing on the way the steam curls into the cool night air.
Breaking the silence, his voice is softer this time as he murmurs,
âSpeaking of amazing views⊠look at that.â
Tilting his chin up at the sky, you follow his gaze, your eyes drawn to the endless expanse of stars glittering against the inky blackness. Lifting his hand, water drips from his fingers as he gestures upward.
âSee that there?â he murmurs. âThatâs Orion. You can tell by the three stars in the middleâOrionâs Belt.â
Your eyes flicker to him, and a boyish smile spreads across his lips as he continues.
âOrion was this great hunter in Greek mythology. A giant, actually. Depending on the version you hear, he was either killed by a jealous goddess or a scorpionâhence why Scorpius, the constellation, is always opposite him in the sky.â
Leaning forward slightly, you trace the constellation with your gaze.
âI⊠never knew that,â you admit softly.
Shifting again, he leans closer to you. His hand lifts up againâthis time pointing to a different part of the sky.
âAnd there⊠thatâs Cassiopeia. Itâs shaped like a âW.â She was a queen, but apparently, she bragged a little too much about how beautiful she and her daughter were. The gods didnât like that, so they stuck her up thereâforced to sit upside-down half the time as punishment.â
You canât help but laugh quietly at the irony.
âA queen with a bit of an ego, huh? Sounds like someone I know.â
His eyes flick back to yours, his grin widening.
âHey, if the gods want to immortalize me for my confidence, I wouldnât say no. But Iâd at least negotiate for better seating arrangements.â
Shaking your head, you smile.
âOf course, you would.â
A low chuckle slips through his lips, and as his gaze lingers up again, you catch sight of the shimmer of stars reflecting in his eyes.
âBut⊠youâve got to admit, sheâs got a better view than most.â
His expression softens as he looks back at youâfingers brushing absently along the edge of the hot tub.
âItâs kind of funny, though. These stories⊠theyâve been passed down for centuries, and theyâre still here. Still lighting up the sky.â
The wistfulness in his voice catches your attention as you hold his gazeâa small smile tugging at your lips.
âYou really know a lot about this. I didnât know you were into constellations.â
He smirks faintly, his voice taking on a playful air again.
âWhat, you think Iâm just a pretty face?â
Rolling your eyes, you laugh softly, but the quiet vulnerability lingering in his expression doesnât escape you.
âWell now⊠I didnât say that.â
Leaning back slightly, the bubbling water hums softly against your skin as he looks up at the stars againâhis expression becoming retrospective.
âTruth isâŠâ he starts, voice dipping lower, âI used to sneak out on my balcony when I was a kid. We had this old telescope, probably the only thoughtful gift my dad ever gave me, and Iâd spend hours just⊠staring at the stars. Learning their names, their stories.â
Tilting your head slightly, the quiet shift in his tone sparks your curiosity.
âWhy the stars?â you ask softly.
He exhales a quiet laugh, though itâs laced with the weight of something long buriedâdevoid of any true humor.
âBecause⊠they didnât expect anything from me,â he admits, gaze fixed on the constellations above. âLooking at the starsâŠ. made everything feel smaller. They didnât care about who I was supposed to be or what I was supposed to accomplish. Up there⊠it was just space. Quiet. Endless.â
âSo⊠the reminder of something bigger was an escape for you?â
Glancing at you, a small, almost sheepish smile tugs at his lips.
âMaybe. I guess Iâve always been drawn to the idea of infinity⊠something that canât be controlled or contained.â
As his words linger, you canât help but think of how beautifully they echo the person he is nowâbrilliant, unpredictable, and endlessly complex.
âWell⊠I never wouldâve guessed,â you murmur, your gaze flickering upward to the stars heâd named for you. âBut⊠it also makes sense. Youâre always reaching for something bigger, arenât you?â
His smile softens, a flicker of vulnerability slipping through as he admits,
âYeah⊠guess I canât help myself.â
Nodding quietly, the bubbling water hums between you as a comfortable silence stretchesâcharged with something unspoken.Â
You glance at him, and his profile is softened by the fairy lightsâthe damp strands of his hair curling against his skin, wet droplets sliding along the line of his jaw.
âDo you still?â the question slips out before you can stop yourself. âLook at the stars, I mean.â
Scratching the back of his head, a wry smile tugs at his lips.
âMmm⊠not as often as I used to. Life gets in the way, you know?â
Another quiet pause lingers between you, and your heart aches at the tenderness in his expressionâthe bittersweet look in his eyes.
For all his teasing confidence and easy smiles, thereâs something almost fragile in the way he speaks about this, as if the memory of that boy stargazing on a balcony still lingersâa deeper part within him.
Itâs almost unbearable, the way he seems both so close and so far away in this moment, and all you can think about is the need to close that distance. The desire to touch him, to draw him back into the presentâit becomes impossible to ignore.
Slowly, your hand moves, almost on its own, your fingers brushing lightly against his arm beneath the water. He looks at you, a flicker of surprise at first, but it softens, quickly giving way to warmth.
âYou should,â you whisper. âIf it makes you feel that way⊠then you should make time for it.â
Your fingers trail absently against his arm, the gentle movement sending ripples through the water, and your gaze drops to the curve of his lips before meeting his eyes again.
âYeah, wellâŠâ his voice drops as he shifts closer to you in the water, ânow Iâve got something even better to escape to.â
Moving beneath the water, his hand brushes lightly against your thighâa touch that pulls at something deep within youâsoft, deliberate, yet somehow still electric.
âAnd⊠itâs not up there.â
As his hand shifts, trailing lightly up your hip, your heart races. His touch urges you to close the distanceâpulling you steadily like gravity itself.
Without thinking, your fingers glide up his arm, lifting to his cheek. You brush away a stray droplet of water from his jaw, and his eyes flutter shut briefly at the touchâa soft exhale escaping his lips.
Your breath hitches, and as his eyes slowly open again, theyâre filled with something raw and unguardedâa depth that steals your breath away.
Lifting his own hand, it comes up to cover yours, holding it there for a moment as he leans into your touch. And then, slowly, he turns his head, pressing a soft kiss to your palmâso gentle, so reverent, it leaves your chest aching, aching for more.
Your fingers slide further, lacing between the damp locks of his silky hair, and he shifts, leaning in just slightly until his lips ghost yours.
The warmth of his breath mingling with yours is enough to unravel you, and slowly, tentatively, you brush your lips against hisâa featherlight touch that sends a spark of pleasure down your spine.
Instinctively, he leans in, deepening the kiss, and his hand slides to the small of your backâsteadying you as the water begins to ripple softly around you.
But itâs the faint rasp of his breath that draws you in further. Your own hands move, sliding from his hair to his shoulders, your fingertips tracing the contours of his damp skin.
Suddenly, his lips part slightlyâinviting you to explore more.
And the moment his tongue brushes softly against your bottom lip, it flares into something elseâthe kiss shifts, no longer soft and tentative, but filled with a hunger that neither of you can seem to deny.
Your hands find their way to his chest, and you feel his heartbeat against your palm, strong and steady as he hums in your mouth, breathy moans through each movement of his lips.
Without thinking, you shift in the water. The bubbling warmth ripples against your skin as you move closerâsettling your legs on both sides of him, straddling his lap as you press your chest against his.
Everything stills.
His breath stutters, his lips faltering against yours for the briefest second. His eyes flicker open to meet yours, and you see the exact moment it clicksâthe moment he feels your bare chest. Freezing slightly, his hands grip your waist with just enough pressure to ground himself.
âYouâre notâŠâ he starts, voice hoarse as his gaze dips, taking in the bare skin of your shoulders, the way the water laps teasingly against the curve of your chest.
His throat bobs, swallowing hard, and when his eyes snap back to yours, theyâre darkened with desireâflickering with a restraint thatâs fraying at the edges.
âFucking hellâŠâ he mutters under his breath, exhaling heavily as his head tilts back slightly. âYouâre going to be the death of me.â
The rough, almost reverent sound of his admission sends a shiver racing through you, emboldening you, and leaning forward, your lips graze the exposed line of his neck.
Groaning softly at the contact, his hands tighten their grip on your hips as you trail tender, deliberate kisses along his skin. Your chest presses closer to him, molding against his as one of your hands slides up to cup his jaw, keeping his head tilted back for your exploration.
âS-shit,â he breathes unsteadilyâa quiet, guttural moan escaping him as you brush the base of his throat.
A jolt of heat rushes through you as his hands shift lower, smoothing over the curve of your assâkneading the flesh as if he canât help himself.
Instinctively, you shift in his lap, but the moment you feel the firm, unmistakable hardness of his cock pressing against you, a moan slips past your lipsâyour kisses faltering against his skin.
Your thighs immediately tighten around him, and something snaps in him. A low, desperate groan tears from his throat, and his hands slide back up to your waistâguiding you against him with an increasing boldness.
âGod, youâre driving me fucking crazy,â he rasps, thick with desire. âDo you even realize what you do to me? How badly I want you?â
Pulling back to meet his eyes, your breath hitches at the unfiltered need blazing in his gaze.
âMaybeâŠâ your fingers tangle in his damp hair, pulling him closer until your lips hover just above his. ââŠbut why donât you tell me Satoru?â
His breath stutters, the tension between you crackling like electricity.
âOh, sweetheart⊠youâre dangerous,â he mutters, low and wrecked, brushing against your lips with every breath. âDangerous, and so fucking temptingâŠâ
His mouth crashes against yours, urgent and consuming, his restraint dissolving as his tongue slides against yours with a fervent desperation. You whimper softly into his mouth, your fingers tightening in his hair as your hips continue to shift instinctively against his cock.
Every movement is amplified by the bubbling water, ripping against your skin as his lips claim yours over and over again, but itâs his handsâwandering and deliberateâthat make your cunt quiver.
Theyâre everywhereâsliding up your back, tracing your waist and gliding up to your chest. His palms cup the soft curve of your breast, and when his thumbs roll over the hardened peaks of your nipples, a soft, muffled cry spills from your lips.
Oh, your sound undoes him.
His hips buck up reflexively, grinding his rigid length against your core with a desperation that suddenly sends the water churning around you.
âFuck⊠shitâIâm so fucking hard for you,â he groans against your lips, trembling with want. âBaby, I canâtâcanât fucking get enough of you.â
Biting your lip, your hands slide from his hair to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin, gasping against his lips while his cock rolls underneath you.
âBeen wanting you for so fucking longâŠâ he grunts, dropping his head to drag his lips down your neck.
âSatoruâŠâ you breathe, trembling against him as his tongue flicks against your skin, sucking the sensitive hollow above your collarbone.
âYou donât even fucking know,â he mutters, gripping you with a bruising intensity. âI stood outside our bathroom doorâŠâ he rasps, punctuated with another thrust. ââŠlistening to the water, imagining you in there, naked and soaked. Fuck, I couldnât stop thinking about it.â
His lips trail up, grazing your ear as his hands drop lower, gripping the curve of your ass and pressing you flush against his throbbing cock.
âHad to touch myself,â he groans, âmy hand wrapped around my cock⊠thinking about pressing you against that tile. F-Fuck⊠about how fucking tight youâd feel around me.â
A strangled whimper slips from your lips, the filthy image his words paint setting your body on fire.
âGod, babyâŠâ he rasps, his lips ghosting along your jawline as his hands guide your hips in perfect rhythm against his. âI came so fucking hard just thinking about you, sweetheart. Fucking my own hand. Thinking about being inside you⊠stretching your perfect little pussy, making you mine.â
But then something shifts.
His breath stutters against your skin, and suddenly his hands still on your hips. His body is trembling, his head dropping to your shoulder as a low, guttural sound escapes himâhalf frustration, half restraint.
âShitâŠâ he mutters, his voice breaking as he shifts beneath you.
Before you can process, his hands grip your waist firmly, guiding you as he adjusts your position, spinning you gently until your back presses against the curved edge of the hot tub.
He cages you there, his arms braced on either side of you, his body hovering so close that the heat radiates between you. For a moment, his head drops, his forehead pressing against yours as he exhales shakily, the tension in his body almost unbearable.
âI canâtâŠâ he starts, voice strained and wrecked. âIâfuckâIâm about to lose it, baby.â
He groans, low and rough, pulling back slightly as his hands slide to your waistâa grip firm but steadying.
âYou saidâŠâ he mutters, voice softening, ââŠyou said you wanted to take things slow. And itâs been one day, sweetheart. One fucking day, and Iâm already losing my goddamn mind.â
His words hang in the air, raw and vulnerable, as his chest heaves with every labored breath. His eyes close briefly, as if trying to gather the strength to pull himself back from the edge.
âI want you so fucking bad,â he admits, his voice dropping to a whisper. âYou donât even know. But⊠I donât⊠I donât want to screw this up.â
âHeyâŠâ you whisper, cupping his cheeks, your thumbs brushing gently against the rough edge of his jawline. âWeâre figuring this out together.â
Leaning into your touch, his eyes slowly open as his breath fans against your faceâletting the tension ebb just slightly.
âYouâve got to help me out here,â he murmurs, voice soft but laced with a thread of desperation. âWhat does âtaking it slowâ even mean? Because right now⊠all I can think about is you, and itâs killing me, sweetheart.â
You hesitate for a moment, his question hanging in the air, and the way his eyes search yoursâpleading, vulnerableâmakes your chest tighten.
âTaking it slow⊠doesnât mean I donât want you, Satoru. I do. So much that it scares me a little...â
His eyes blink open wider, his expression softening as he absorbs your words.
âScared?â he echoes. âSweetheart⊠Iâm fucking terrified. Iâve never wanted someone the way I want you. And that terrifies me because honestly, I donât know what Iâd do if I lost you.â
His words settle between you like a confession, raw and unguarded, and for a moment, youâre both quietâthe bubbling water lapping gently against your skin as you process the weight of his admission.
With a quiet breath, your fingers brush along his forearm, sliding up to rest lightly against his chest.
âI⊠donât want to lose you either,â your voice trembles slightly as you peel back a layer of your own walls. âSatoru⊠youâre important to me. And maybe thatâs why I want this to be different.â
His brows draw together slightly, a flicker of confusion crossing his face as he tilts his head in question.
âDifferent⊠how?â
Biting your lip, your gaze drops momentarily to the rippling water as you gather the courageâtrying to find the words.
"Different because⊠it feels like, for once, Iâm not rushing into something just to fill a void. I want to savor this⊠savor you. Iâve never had the chance to do that before."
His gaze softens further, and the vibrant blue of his eyes darkens under the pale glow of moonlight. You allow the steady warmth of his thumbs brushing absentminded circles against your waist, to keep you groundedâletting the words spill out, your own quiet confession.
"I guess⊠for once⊠I⊠want to enjoy every moment of falling for someone instead of wondering when itâs going to fall apart.â
Satoru pulls you closer, his eyes holding your gaze with a quiet tenderness. Then, after a beat, his lips quirk into a soft, lopsided grin, one that makes something flutter in your chest.
âWell shit,â he exhales, a playful edge creeping into his voice. âI think you like me.â
The unexpected shift in tone catches you off guard, and you canât help the laugh that bubbles up, light and genuine, shaking your head at his ridiculousness.
âOh, you think?â you tease, rolling your eyes at him.
âI meeeanâŠâ he drawls, his teasing grin widening. âAll this talk about savoring me? Falling for me? Sounds like youâre pretty smitten, sweetheart.â
Your laugh turns into a wry smile as you shake your head, nudging him lightly.
âOkay, fine. I like you. Happy?â
âEcstatic,â he replies smoothly, his grin turning downright triumphant.
As his face softens slightly, he leans forward, brushing the tip of his nose against yours as he murmurs, âYou know⊠Iâve never really had that either.â
âYeah?â you ask gently, your fingers moving without thought, brushing against the damp strands of his hair.
He nods, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
âIâve always moved fast, maybe because I didnât want to feel⊠too much,â he admits, his tone quieter now.
Tilting your head, your fingers brush along the sharp line of his jaw, encouraging him to go on.
âWhatâs different now?â you ask softly, the question slipping out before you can stop it.
âWith youâŠâ his hand comes up to cup your cheek, tracing a slow, deliberate line. âItâs like⊠I want to feel everything. Every single moment.â
Your breath hitches at his words, and he leans in closer, lips hovering just above yours. The heat radiating off him mingles with the steam curling around you.
âHmmm,â you murmur, grinning as you playfully nudge your nose against his. âWell⊠I think you like me too, Satoru Gojo.â
His brows shoot up in mock indignation, and he huffs out a laugh, his hands tightening slightly on your waist.
âOh, you think youâre clever, huh?â
Before you can respond, his mouth crashes against yours, cutting off your laugh with a kiss so consuming it makes your head spin. Pulling you flush against him, his lips move in a fervent desperationâhis teeth capturing your bottom lip, his tongue stroking against yours in a heated dance.
You gasp softly in his mouth as your hands wrap around him, the bubbling water lapping against you as his hands explore once againâsliding to your breasts, twirling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
A soft whimper escapes you, and he hums in your mouthâpleased and unrestrainedâbut just as you feel yourself melting completely into him, surrendering to the pull of his touch and the weight of his kiss, he pulls back.
His gaze is heavy-lidded and dark, his pupils blown wide with desire. Yet thereâs something maddeningly smug about the way heâs looking at you, his lips curling into a slow, insufferably cocky grin.
âHmmâŠâ he hums thoughtfully, brushing his thumb against your swollen bottom lip, eyes gleaming with mischief. âI quite enjoy getting you worked up.â
Your cheeks burn as your eyes narrow, and for a moment, youâre too stunned to fire back. He takes full advantage, leaning in close, his lips grazing the shell of your ear as he whispers,
âIf you want to take it slow, sweetheart, thatâs fine. But Iâm turning it into my own personal game.â
You blink, his words swirling in your mind as the heat of his lips shifts to the curve of your neckâpressing open-mouthed kisses against your damp skin. Tipping your head back involuntarily, his lips blaze a trail along your collarbone.
âA game?â you manage, breathlessly.
âMhmm,â his lips ghost along the line of your jaw. âAnd Iâll have you begging for me by the end of it. Count on it.â
His voice is darkârich with confidence and something wickedly seductive, and the heat of his promise sends a jolt of need shooting through you. When he finally pulls back, his insufferably cocky grin is enough to make you want to throttle himâand kiss him senseless all over again.
Itâs infuriating. Itâs intoxicating. Itâs Satoru.
With an exaggerated sigh, he settles beside you in the hot tub, the bubbling water rippling against his toned chest as he leans against the curved edge. Heâs infuriatingly casual, the image of smug satisfaction as he reaches for his champagne flute resting on the side of the tub.
Taking a slow, deliberate sip, he casts you a sideways glance, his grin widening when he catches the heat in your gaze still lingering.
âWhat?â he asks innocently. âYou look like youâve got something to say, sweetheart.â
With a pointed look, you roll your eyesâsettling beside him.
âOh, nothing,â you exhale with a smirk, mirroring his casual tone as you reach for your own glass. âIâm just thinking about how funny itâll be when this little âgameâ of yours backfires Mr. Gojo.â
His grin widens in amusement as he leans back further against the jetsâan arm draping along the edge of the tub behind you.
âWeâll see about that,â he murmurs, lifting a brow and clinking his glass against yours.
But then, his gaze shifts, flicking just past you toward the estateâs edge.
At first, his expression doesnât change, his teasing grin frozen in placeâbut as his eyes narrow slightly, for a fleeting moment, his jaw tightens.
âSatoru?â you ask, tilting your head as you take another sip of champagne. âYou okay?â
He blinks, his gaze snapping back to you, and his easy smile returns almost instantly.
âHmm? Sorry, what was that?â
âYou⊠zoned out,â your brow furrows slightly as you study him. âSomething on your mind?â
âOh⊠just strategizing my next move in our little game,â he says smoothly, his grin turning playful again, though his eyes flick briefly toward the edge of the estate once more. âGotta keep you on your toes, sweetheart.â
Narrowing your eyes slightly, you sense thereâs something he isnât saying, but before you can press further, he shifts closer, his arm brushing yours as he leans in conspiratorially.
âSpeaking of toes,â he murmurs, low and teasing, âI think weâve spent enough time in here. Donât want you turning into a prune on me.â
For a moment, you pauseâconsidering whether you should push him further. But instead, you let out a soft sigh.
âAww, manâŠâ you pout playfully. âI was really enjoying this hot tub, too.â
Satoruâs smile softens, but there's a flicker of something protective in his eyes. He shifts closer, his arm brushing against yours as he gently leans in.
âWell⊠we can come back again. It is our hot tub, after all. Remember?â
Raising an eyebrow, a half-smile tugs at your lips. Despite the shift in the air, you nod, choosing not to press him.
âRight...â you mutter lightly, âour hot tub.â
Satoru stands, offering his hand to help you out of the water. Pulling you up gently, the cool night air kisses your skin as you step outâthe warmth of the hot tub already fading.
Heâs quick to wrap a towel over youâhis hands gliding across your skin as he subtly dries you off. But the way his gaze flickers towards the trees again, leaves you slightly unsettled. Though, a moment later his smile returnsâalmost like heâs trying to shake something off.
âLetâs get inside,â he murmurs, carrying an edge that wasn't there before. âItâs getting late.â
As you follow him, you glance back briefly toward the estateâs edge, where the shadows of the trees sway gently in the wind.
But⊠whatever had drawn Satoruâs attention earlier remains a mystery, tucked away in the dark beyond the gates.
A mystery that perhaps⊠youâd rather not know the answer to.
êš
The heavy thud of binoculars clatters against the wooden tableâToji slamming them down with a careless flick of his wrist. Catching a dim light, the lenses slide to a stop, and Toji pulls out a chairâleaning back while plopping his feet up.
"Almost blew my cover," he mutters, exhaling in annoyance. "Satoru's more perceptive than I gave him credit for."
Naoyaâs eyes flicker toward the binoculars before his gaze settles back on Toji. His fingers drum impatiently on the tableâa rhythm quick and sharp.
âWhat do you mean? He didnât see you, did he?"
Toji waves a hand dismissivelyâunfazed, but calculating.
âNah⊠didnât actually spot me. But he kept looking in my direction. I could tell. Itâs like he felt me there. That gut feeling, you know?â
âOf course,â Mei-Mei chimes in, smooth and tinged with affection.
Leaning back in her chair, a slow, fond smile curls upon her lips. She twirls her drink languidly in her glassâcrossing one leg over the other.
âThatâs Satoru for you, isnât it? Always a step ahead of everyone. Itâs honestly incredible how sharp he is.â
Sighing dramatically, she sets her glass down on the table with a soft, deliberate clink. Then, leaning forward, she props her elbow on the table, resting her chin in her hand.
"He always did have that uncanny ability,â she drawls, dripping with admiration. âItâs just another reason why heâs so... impressive."
Naoya rolls his eyes, his frustration building. His fingers tap a rapid rhythm on the table, betraying his growing impatience.
"Jesus, not this again,â he mutters. âFocus, Mei-Mei. We're here to deal with this situation, not to fawn over Gojo."
Mei-Mei flicks a quick glance toward Naoya, her smile widening just slightly. She runs a finger lazily along the rim of her glass.
âOh, I am focused, darling,â she purrs, smooth and teasing. âPerhaps this means itâs time to speed things up.â
Shifting to Toji, her voice becomes more calculatedâa quiet edge of authority seeping in.
âWeâve played around long enough. Naoyaâs plan needs to be put in motion soon. Before Satoru gets⊠too comfortable.â
Toji chuckles darkly, low and mockingâa smirk tugging at his lips.
âYeah⊠well⊠about thatâŠâ he pauses for a moment, glancing towards Naoya. "You sure your intelâs still solid âcuz?â
Naoyaâs eyes narrow just slightlyâhis fingers stopping mid-tap on the table. Thereâs a shift in his posture, a subtle tightening around his jaw.
âWhat do you mean?â
Toji shrugs nonchalantly, the grin on his face widening.
âAfter what I saw tonight... Iâm wondering if things are a bit more complicated than we thought."
Naoyaâs brow furrows, confusion flickering for a moment, before irritation flares up again. He leans forward, his eyes locked onto Toji as his fingers tighten into a fist.
"What the hell are you talking about? What did you see?"
Tojiâs smirk stretchesâpredatory and full of amusement.
âSaw the whole damn thing. Theyâre not just playing house. I watched them in the hot tub, and Iâll tell ya, that make-out session wasnât for the cameras. Hell, they almost fucked right there, in front of me. I practically got a show.â
The room falls into an eerie silence. Mei Meiâs expression shifts, her interest piqued, though she masks it with a slight tilt of her head. Naoyaâs face twists in frustration, his breathing shallowâthe air around him thickening.
"No⊠no, that canât be,â Naoya grits, the words slipping from clenched teeth. Leaning forward, his voice trembles with the weight of his disbelief. âSheâs just a pawnâheâs using her. Thereâs no way heâd get attached to her."
Mei-Mei scoffs softly, laced with both frustration and longing. She sets her glass down delicately on the tableâher eyes glinting an unsettling mixture of envy and disdain.
"Tch⊠I never understood why Satoru chose someone like her. He deserves someone who can match him, not... her."
Naoyaâs anger erupts, boiling over into a loud, harsh growl. His eyes burn with fury as he slams his fist onto the table again, causing the wood to shudder under the force. His voice cracks with intensity, raw and full of rage.
âThis wasnât part of the plan!â he spits. âIâm not letting that bastard keep her!â His eyes flash with dark intent as he leans forward, hands clutching the edge of the table, knuckles turning white. âHe wonât have control over her! I wonât let him.â
Mei-Mei raises an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth curling into a wider, almost cruel smirk as she watches Naoyaâs outburst. The tension in her body relaxes, but only slightly, as she takes a slow, deliberate sip from her glass.
"Oh⊠you poor thing," she coos, dripping with sarcasm, "how cute. It looks like you really did lose your toy, didnât you?â
Naoyaâs glare sharpens, his face darkening with even more rage, but before he can snap back at her, Toji clears his throatâcutting through the tension like a knife.
âAlright, alright. Relax. Both of you.â
Leaning back in his chair, the smooth wood creaks beneath him as he stretches his legs out lazily, exhaling slowly through his nose. His expression shifts to one of cold calculation, his eyes locking onto Naoya with an almost imperceptible smirk.
âThis just changes the plan, thatâs all. No need to get all bent out of shape over it.â
Naoyaâs eyes narrow further, the lines around his mouth deepening into a hard, angry frown.
âWhat do you mean, âchanges the planâ?â he spits through clenched teeth.
Tojiâs grin turns sharpâhis tone dropping to something more dangerous
âCommon now, âcuz⊠is your toy making you lose your edge?â he pauses, letting his taunt hang before continuing. âThink about it. To bring Satoru Gojo down, weâve gotta go after whatâs most important to him, right?â
The silence is thickâNaoyaâs brow furrowing as the meaning of the statement slowly sinks in. His breath hitches slightly, his mind racing as the pieces fall into place.
âBefore, we thought it was his precious reputation,â Toji continues, ââhis image as the untouchable, perfect heir. But nowâŠâ he trails off, a malicious gleam in his eyes. âNow weâve got a much bigger target.â
Naoyaâs eyes narrow even further, a flicker of realization creeping into his expression as the truth starts to dawn on him. His hand moves to rub the back of his neck, the tension in his body building as he mutters under his breath,
âYouâre saying⊠her?â
Tojiâs smirk deepens, turning positively devilish as he leans forward.
âBingo,â he mutters, a low chuckle escaping his lips. "Satoruâs attached to her, whether he wants to admit it or not. Thatâs the leverage weâve been missing. Forget the public imageâif we take y/n out of the equation, heâll break. His whole world will collapse."
A tense silence falls over the room, everyone holding their breath as Tojiâs words sink in. Then, after a moment, Mei-Mei hums softlyâsweet but carrying an edge of approval.
âWell, well⊠not bad, Toji. I suppose jail didnât take the fight out of you after all.â
Tojiâs jaw tightens, and for a moment, the smirk on his lips fades, replaced by a cold, hard edge in his eyes.
âJail didnât make me soft. It just made me more⊠determined,â he growlsâdripping with resentment. âThe Gojo familyâthey think they can lock me up and forget about me? Tch⊠Iâve got a score to settle, and this... this is just the beginning.â
Naoyaâs eyes flash with a bitter, twisted smirkâhis frustration mixing with simmering excitement as he shifts forward in his seat.
âGreat. We go after her. If Satoru thinks heâs got control over her, heâs in for a rude awakening.â His voice drops to a low growl as he mutters, âIf I canât have her⊠then no one can.â
Mei-Mei smiles serenelyâcool and calculating.
âAnd after we destroy everything he cares about,â she murmurs, âSatoru will have no choice but to fall into my hands."
Toji leans back in his chair, folding his arms with grim satisfaction. His eyes flick between the two, the corners of his mouth curling into a slight smirkâone that speaks of cold, calculated victory.
âThatâs right. Once sheïżœïżœs gone, Satoruâs nothing. And when heâs broken, weâll take him down, piece by piece.â
a/n. oh wowee, hi guys. i wanna thank you all so much for your support with this fic. every kind comment really puts a smile on my face :') i know you all waited a bit longer than usual with this chapter, but thanks for your patience! life is kicking my ass lately, but i'm almost done with this school semester đ there's a lot going on in this chapter. the yakuza coming into playâsatoru trying to connect more deliberately with haruâsuguru joining the battleâand satoru and y/n exploring their new relationship together! a few of my favorite things to write this chapter: satoru and suguru interacting together. i just love their friendship in the canon story, so i always have fun writing it (without suguru going genocide crazy, lol). another scene that was my fav, was in the hot tub, where satoru is talking about the constellations đ and when satoru realized y/n didn't have her bra on đ€ hehe. the scene where y/n is sitting in the study with both satoru and suguru... that scene was really tough to write... very emotional đ„ș if anyone has ever been in a position like y/n, don't hesitate to seek help. emotional manipulation and physical intimation is indeed a form of domestic abuse. i also had a lot of fun writing the last scene, with toji, naoya and mei-mei. it was a nice change up! fyi, ya'll will be getting a satoru pov chapter in the future (soon-ish?) huge thank you as always to my friend @strychnynegirl for helping me immensely with this chapter đ„° she is literally incredible. anyways, hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and i hope you have an amazing thanksgiving đ«¶đ» much love! -alyđ â you are currently all caught upêš
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#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen fanfiction#gojo satoru#gojo satoru x reader#motherhood and matrimony#jjk fanfic#jjk#satoru gojo#mhm#satoru smut#satoru fluff#satoru angst#gojo x reader#jjk gojo#satoru x reader#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo smut#gojo jjk#gojo smut#jjk satoru#gojo x reader smut#gojo x y/n#gojo x you#jjk smut#gojo fluff#gojo satoru fluff#satoru gojo angst
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Could you please write first time with Vi or with both Vi and Caitlin, I don't really mind which one it's up to you (thank you in advance if you write any of this đ)
Comfortable
|| vi x caitlyn x fem!reader
|| Warnings; smut, reader's first, breast play, pussy eating, fingering, praise kink, orgasm, finger sucking, good girl use, break, bottom/receiving!reader, dom!vi, dom!caitlyn
|| Summary; when the girls get reader to their room, they have some fun.
Requests closed!
Started; November 26th
Finished; November 27th
~~~
It wasn't long before the two girls had you following them to their bedroom. Caitlyn holding your hand as she brought you along, a subtle smug look across her face while Vi couldn't stop smirking. Before you knew it you were up against the door. Caitlyn's lips against your neck, Vi's body against yours. They knew this was your first. So they planned ahead with you to go slow, making sure you had a safe word and that this was what you really wanted. If at any point you decided to stop, they wouldn't hesitate to let you. This was all happening on your grounds.
Caitlyn placed gentle kisses to your neck. Sucking until a mark was left while Vi brought your lips onto her own. You couldn't help but moan from the different sensations. The sound sending vibrations through Vi's lips that made her shudder. She parted the kiss and gave Caitlyn a subtle look. They seemed to almost make some agreement and the next thing you knew, Vi was picking you up. Carrying you to their bed where she set you down. Caitlyn laid next to you. Helping you out of your clothes, the soft look never leaving her eyes. Taking in the sight of your naked appearance.
"You're beautiful," She murmured. Leaning forwards to suck your breasts. The nipple gently rolling between her teeth. You gasped at the feeling. Back instinctively arching into her. Wanting more. It was insane how good she could make you feel. Just from the breasts alone. You'd been so focused on Caitlyn that you didn't realize what Vi was doing. Until you suddenly felt her tongue against your clit. Lapping at the wetness. Savouring the taste while her tongue danced in circles. Bringing waves of overwhelming, endless, pleasure through you. The two of them on you at once... was almost enough to make you cum then and there. And you nearly did. But you managed yo control it, hold it in.
That didn't last long, though. The moment Vi started adding her fingers you were done. The knot that had tightened itself in your stomach came undone. Despite your best efforts at keeping it together. Your pitch got louder, hands gripping the sheets. Lifting Caitlyn a bit when your back arched more. Caitlyn smirked against your skin. Her hand roaming down to your waist, gently pulling you down. Holding you still. "Shh, you're doing so well." Caitlyn praised. Her tone a murmur.
Vi lifted her head, licking the cum from her lips. Her finger pulling out of you and into your mouth. Your eyes widened in surprise, but you relaxed into it. Sucking her finger. The taste of yourself making you moan. Vi smirked and cupped your cheek with her other hand. "Such a good girl. Could you be any cuter?" Vi leaned forward. Taking her finger from your lips and instead capturing them in her own. The kiss bruising. Your lips trying to keep up with hers in a desperate, sloppy attempt.
As the kiss parted, you struggled a bit to catch your breath. Still overwhelmed from your orgasm. Caitlyn noticed before Vi and sat up, placing a hand to your stomach. "Hey, just breathe. Do you need water?" She asked, when you nodded she left the bed. Getting you water while Vi laid beside you. Watching you with concern in her eyes.
"Do you wanna stop here?" Vi asked and you shook your head. You didn't want to stop. It felt absolutely amazing. But you did need a break before they could do anymore to you.
"Just.. a break." You told her, her eyes softened and she held you close. Being the bigger spoon as her fingers trailed soft circles against your stomach.
"Take as long as you need." She whispered.
You definitely did. It was nearly twenty minutes before you were ready to go again. But the girls didn't mind. They wanted you comfortable.
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Spending time with ekko, jinx and your twin girls
featuring. ekko x wife!reader
what the title says, jinx is basically the aunt to your twin daughters, very sweet and chaotic
One of your twin daughters darted ahead on unsteady legs. Her energy, an exact match for her fatherâs, while her quieter sister clung to your hand with her big and curious eyes watched everything with caution. Ekko walked on your other side, keeping a sharp eye on the more adventurous twin. Meanwhile, Jinx strolled behind, her oversized gun slung lazily over her shoulder. She hummed an off-key tune, her bright blue braids swinging, but her sharp eyes never left the girls.
âCareful there, little spark!â Ekko called out as the hyperactive twin tried to leap over a particularly large puddle, barely making it to the other side without falling in.
Jinx grinned wide and crouched down next to the puddle. âPuddleâs lava now, kiddo. You touch it, you burn up!â she said, her voice both playful and mischievous.
âReally?!â The excitable twinâs face lit up with excitement as she turned back to try the jump again, more determined this time. You shot Jinx a knowing look, but she shrugged innocently. âWhat? Keeps her sharp!â
âSharp enough to break a leg that is,â you muttered, though you couldnât help but smile.
Ekko scooped up the puddle-jumper just as she turned for another run, hoisting her up effortlessly. âAlright little one, thatâs enough daredevil training for today. Youâre gonna give your mama a heart attack,â he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her wild curls. She giggled, kicking her legs in protest but not really trying to escape his hold.
Meanwhile, the quieter twin tugged at your hand. âMama, why is Jinxâs gun so big? Can I hold it?â she asked, her voice soft but filled with curiosity.
âNope, nope, nope,â Jinx chimed in, spinning around to walk backward and face the girl. âMy babies donât touch guns until theyâre, like, I dunno⊠fifty. Maybe.â Her tone was light, but her eyes hardened for a moment, her protectiveness shining through.
âSheâs not kidding,â Ekko added, giving Jinx a look that silently thanked her.
The five of you reached the marketplace, where familiar faces greeted you with nods and smiles. Jinx let out a dramatic whistle as she spotted a stand selling fresh sweets. âOh-ho, look at that! Who wants candy?â she asked, already reaching for her coin pouch.
âMe! Me!â the hyper twin yelled, practically climbing over Ekkoâs shoulder to get down.
The quieter twin looked up at you, silently asking for permission. You laughed softly and nodded. âGo on. Just one each, though.â
As the twins ran to Jinx, Ekko slipped his arm around your waist, pulling you close. âYou okay?â he asked softly, his tone cutting through the noise of the market.
You leaned into him, watching Jinx hold the twinsâ hands as they inspected the candy options like they were choosing treasure. âYeah. Just glad weâve got jinx around to help us watch out for them, especially the adventurous one.â
âSheâd die for them,â Ekko murmured, his voice warm but serious. âLiterally.â You nodded in response to his words, because you truly did know deep down the jinx cared for the girls just like she did with Isha.
taglist. @diffusebread @xxblairslairxx @themostlesbianever @annybah @niredsw @stqrlxght @kriss-w @marilovz @blkmystery @multiverse-fandoms-2001 @turquoizxe @mishellii @kor-0suu @feelya @theamazingmilli @multim00n @m00nd0v3 @sodavrr @maialublmere @radtragedyarcade @spiderhook @night-fall-moon
banner. @anitalenia
#arcane masterlist#arcane ekko x reader#ekko fics#ekko imagines#ekko fluff#arcane ekko#ekko x reader#ekko league of legends#ekko x y/n#ekko x you#arcane x female reader#arcane x y/n#arcane x you#arcane x reader#arcane x wife!reader#wife!reader#jinx arcane#arcane jinx
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Can you do something with the arcane characters (more specifically Viktor but id like to see how others would be too if thats okay with you ofc) and how they would be ice skating/ice skating with reader. Thank youuu!
Uuuaghfhdshsisn such a cute ask!
Viktor
Viktor wasnât thrilled about the idea of ice skating. His cane wasnât exactly built for gliding across frozen water, but the way your eyes lit up at the rink softened his resistance. âIf I fall, youâre catching me,â he warned, stepping gingerly onto the ice.
You stayed close, holding his arm as he wobbled. Despite his initial hesitance, Viktor found himself smiling, especially when you cheered for him after a single, ungraceful loop around the rink. âMaybe this isnât so bad,â he murmured, watching you glide effortlessly ahead of him.
But the moment he tried to speed up, his feet slipped out from under him. You burst into laughter, skating back to help him up. âYouâre enjoying this, arenât you?â he asked, shaking his head but laughing along with you.
âAbsolutely,â you said, taking his hands. âLetâs go again.â
Jinx
Jinx was a whirlwind on the ice. From the moment you laced up your skates, she was already darting around, almost crashing into everyone in her path. âCatch me if you can!â she yelled, zipping past you.
You hesitated at first but gave chase, laughing as she swerved and spun to evade you. When you finally caught her, both of you tumbled into a pile on the ice. She cackled, her cheeks flushed from the cold.
âThink you can outskate me? Not a chance, sugar,â she teased, pulling you back up for another round.
Vi
Vi acted like she was too cool for ice skating but secretly loved it. She steadied you as you both stepped onto the rink, smirking when you clung to her arm. âRelax, I got you,â she said, guiding you along
After a few laps, you found your footing, and Vi couldnât resist showing off. âWatch this!â she said, attempting a spin. It wasnât perfect, but it was enough to impress you.
When you challenged her to a race, she grinned. âYouâre on, but donât cry when I leave you in the dust,â she joked, taking off with you close behind.
Sevika
Sevika had no interest in ice skating at first but gave in when you insisted. âFine, but if I break something, itâs on you,â she grumbled. On the ice, she was surprisingly steady, her strength and balance keeping her upright.
You teased her for being better than expected, and she shrugged. âTakes more than some slippery ice to take me down,â she said, smirking.
When you started to slip, she caught you with her robotic arm, pulling you close. âCareful,â she muttered, her tone soft. âCanât have you getting hurt.â
Silco
Silco on ice skates was a rare sight. He only agreed because you promised it would be âfun.â He moved cautiously, his usual grace compromised by the ice.
âStop laughing,â he said dryly as you glided circles around him.
âCome on, Silco, loosen up!â you encouraged, grabbing his hands.
After a while, he found his rhythm, his confidence returning. By the end of the night, he even attempted a slow dance with you on the ice, his reserved smile making the whole experience worth it.
Vander
Vander was a natural on the ice, his strength and steady demeanor making him a great skating partner. He held your hand as you found your balance, his warm laugh easing your nerves.
âYouâre doing great,â he said, his deep voice a comforting presence.
When you suggested skating together, he lifted you effortlessly, spinning you around before setting you back down. âSee? Nothing to it,â he said, grinning as you laughed in delight.
Ekko
Ekko was all energy on the ice, weaving through the crowd with ease. âCome on, firebug, keep up!â he called, skating backward to face you.
You tried to match his pace but ended up slipping. Ekko caught you just in time, his arms wrapping around you to keep you steady. âGotcha,â he said with a wink.
He spent the rest of the session teaching you tricks, his enthusiasm contagious. By the end of the night, you were laughing and racing each other like pros.
Jayce
Jayce was overly confident at first, claiming heâd be the âking of the rink.â That confidence faded the moment he wobbled onto the ice.
You couldnât stop laughing as he clung to the edge. âDonât just stand thereâhelp me!â he said, reaching for your hand.
Once he got the hang of it, he was unstoppable, showing off and trying to impress you. âI told you Iâd get the hang of it!â he said, beaming as he pulled you into a spin.
Caitlyn
Caitlyn was graceful on the ice, moving as if sheâd been skating her whole life. She held your hand, guiding you through the basics with patience and encouragement.
âYouâre a quick learner,â she said, her smile warm.
When you finally managed to skate on your own, she clapped, clearly proud. âI think youâre ready for a race,â she teased, challenging you to a friendly competition around the rink.
Mel Medarda
Mel exuded elegance, even on the ice. She took your hand, leading you with effortless grace. âRelax, darling,â she said, her voice soothing.
She enjoyed showing off, performing spins and gliding effortlessly. When you asked for tips, she smiled. âItâs all about confidence,â she said, pulling you close.
Dancing on the ice with her felt like a dream, her refined presence making every moment magical.
Ambessa Medarda
Ambessaâs strength and determination made her a natural skater. She was your rock, steady and dependable as you learned the ropes.
âYouâre doing well,â she said, her tone encouraging.
When you stumbled, she caught you easily, lifting you back up without effort. âSee? No reason to fear,â she said, her smile reassuring.
Maddie Nolen
Maddie turned ice skating into a playful competition, challenging you to races and tricks. âLoser buys dinner!â she teased, darting ahead
Her energy was infectious, and you couldnât help but laugh as she showed off her skills. When you finally caught up to her, she grinned. âNot bad, but Iâm still the best.â
Lest
Lest was hesitant at first, her feline instincts making her wary of the slippery surface. But with your encouragement, she gave it a try.
She moved cautiously, her tail flicking with every step. âThis is⊠strange,â she admitted, but your laughter eased her nerves.
By the end of the night, she was gliding alongside you, her confidence growing with each lap. âPerhaps this isnât so bad,â she said, her smile soft and genuine.
#arcane x reader#x reader#arcane imagine#arcane headcanon#character x reader#jinx arcane#arcane#jinx x reader#arcane vi#imagine#arcane vander#vi arcane#viktor x reader#arcane caitlyn#maddie arcane#mel merdada#ambessa medarda#lest arcane
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Ateez Snapshots: Calling them Daddy
All suggestive. Minors DNI.
Anon request here! Daddy is usually not my fav but these were actually a lot of fun. My fav is Wooyoung's :) Enjoy!
Summary: Reader, who is friends with each member, calls them "daddy" out of the blue... they respond in a variety of ways.
Pairing: Ateez x reader
Includes: coffee dates, amusement park dates, study dates, video games, bar dates, dinner with a friend, writing a song, and touching yourself during a movie
Word count: 1.8k
Taglist (Comment on a post/send an ask if you'd like to be added): @weirdowithaphone, @caught-in-the-afterglow, @palindrome969, @skzstan12345, @katsukis1wife,
@hyunjinsjeans, @somethingkindazainy, @silverstarburst
Network:@mirohs-aurora-society
Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!!!
Masterlist
-----
Hongjoong:
You and Hongjoong are having coffee, and your mind starts to wander.
Hongjoong is sipping his usual iced butterscotch latte with almond milk, caramel cold foam, and cinnamon sprinkled on top, and you have your usual order. Youâre staring into your drink.
Hongjoong is your best friend, but you canât stop thinking of him naked, pushing into you with a groan.
âHongjoong⊠DaddyâŠâ Youâd whisper at the feeling, at him bottoming out inside you.
âHuh?â You look up, and Hongjoongâs flushed red.
âWhat?â Youâre confused.
âDid you just⊠um⊠call meâŠ.â
Your eyes go wide as you realize. âDid I say that aloud?â
âUm⊠yes, you did.â Hongjoong is looking at you, waiting for you to respond. Heâs all red, his fingers tapping against his cup, slightly biting his lip.
You want him so bad.
âHongjoongâŠâ You murmur. âI was justâŠâ You sigh, unsure of what to say.
âDo you want to call me that?â
âYeah, I do.â
âThen⊠ah, do you want toâŠâ Hongjoong looks so nervous you laugh. âDonât laugh at me!â
âIâm not laughing at you, Iâm laughing cause you look adorableâŠâ You lean in. âDaddy.â
Hongjoong groans. âDonât say that in public. Itâs gonna make me⊠ugh.â
âKim Hongjoong, does âdaddyâ turn you on?â You raise your eyebrows.
âMaybe.â He smiles.
âThen maybe we should go back to my place.â
Hongjoongâs eyes light up. âYes, we should.â
-----
Seonghwa:
You and Seonghwa are at the amusement park, and your mind starts to wander.
Youâre on the biggest roller coaster in the park, climbing up the first hill. Seonghwaâs hand is warm around yours, holding it tightly. You should be nervous about the drop ahead, but you canât stop thinking about those hands, about what they could do to you.
Seonghwa squeezes, and you smile at him. âThanks for holding my hand, daddy.â
âDaddy?â Seonghwa looks shocked, but before you can say anything, the car is toppling over the slope of the roller coaster, and youâre screaming, squeezing his hand even tighter.
Your stomach is in knots from more than just the coaster as it slows to a stop at the end of the track, and as you pull into the unloading area, Seonghwa doesnât let go of your hand.
âDid you call me daddy?â
âI⊠um, yeahâŠâ
Seonghwa smiles, a glint of mischief in his eye. âYou know, if you want to call me daddy and scream, we could do something other than another roller coaster.â
You smile. âAre you serious?â
Seonghwaâs eyes dart over you. âYeah, Iâm serious.â
-----
Yunho:
You and Yunho are studying together, and your mind starts to wander.
Both of you are in a chemistry class together, and you just canât get the calculations quite down. As Yunhoâs showing you one for the third time, you canât stop thinking about him fucking you on that table. Youâre in one of the most private study rooms in the library, so itâs unlikely anyone would find youâŠ
âAnd then you carry the one⊠got it?â
âGot it⊠daddy.â You whisper the last word.
âDaddy?â Yunho repeats.
âYeah.â
He tilts your chin up so you meet his eyes, and your stomach jumps. âDid you mean that?â
âI did.â
âFuck.â He says softly, his eyes roaming over your face. âYouâre so beautiful, Iâve always thought that, but I didnât think you⊠wantedâŠâ
âWanted you to dominate me?â You say boldly.
âYeah.â Yunho smiles. âBut now that I know⊠weâre gonna have fun, arenât we?â
-----
Yeosang:
You and Yeosang are playing video games, and your mind starts to wander.
Well, Yeosang is playing League, and youâre laying on his bed and watching him. Your best friend isnât very good, but itâs fun to heckle him as he plays.
He finishes his game and tosses his controller on the table. âI swear, that was not reflective of my skills.â
âSure.â You laugh. âWhatever you say.â
âOh, come on.â He spins around in his chair to face you.
âWhat did you want me to say? Yes, daddy, lose that game harder!â You say, joking, but Yeosang goes deep red, quickly looking away.
âDonât say that.â He mumbles.
âKang Yeosang, do you have a daddy kink?â Your eyes widen, and you grin.
âNo!â He protests.
âYou totally do, daddy.â
He puts his face in his hands. âShut up.â His words donât have any bite.
âFuck me, daddy!â You whine. âHarder.â
âSeriously, shut up.â He looks at you. âIf you keep talking like that, Iâll start to think youâre serious.â
âWell, maybe I am.â You say, your stomach jumping. Would that make things weird?
He blinks. âSeriously?â
âYes⊠daddy.â You smile, shy.
âFuck.â He whispers. âI love it when you say that, y/n.â
-----
San:
You and San are at a bar, and your mind starts to wander.
He takes another drink of his beer. âYou look distracted, whatâs up? Weird day at work or something?â
You shake yourself out of it. âYeah, exactly that.â
âWhat happened?â
I was thinking about you fucking me all day and I couldnât focus on my project, but I did have some fun fantasies about calling you daddy, so that was good. You think. âI was just really spacey today, I donât know. Couldnât focus on anything.â
âReally?â
âYes, daddy.â You say without thinking.
San laughs. âDaddy? Whereâd that come from?â
Your face goes hot. âIâ umââ
âBe honest, baby.â He lifts his eyebrows. âWhereâd that come from?â
San calling you âbabyâ lights a fire in your stomach. âIâve been thinking about it a little bit.â
âThinking about⊠calling me daddy?â
âYes.â You look down.
âHey. Look at me.â San says gently.
You look at him. His expression is full of compassion and maybe something a bit darker. âYou can call me daddy if you want. And if you want me to fuck you, just say so.â
âI want you to fuck me.â You whisper.
âOkay, then let me finish this beer and weâll go back to my place.â San takes another long swig from the bottle, nodding at your glass. âFinish your drink, and weâll go, baby.â
You smile. You drink your wine as quickly as you can.
-----
Mingi:
You and Mingi are having dinner, and your mind starts to wander.
Itâs just hamburgers from your favorite local place. Youâve gotten takeout and youâre sitting at the dining table in Mingiâs apartment.
But it feels like more than that.
âDid anything exciting happen today?â He asks, taking a bite.
âUm⊠not really.â You say, smiling, images of Mingiâs hand around your throat filling your head. âNothing too interesting.â
âWhatever you say, sunflower.â You blush at the nickname. Itâs your favorite flower, and itâs his special nickname for you. âBut your little grin says otherwise.â
âWhat do you mean?â
âWhat really happened today?â Mingi raises his eyebrows.
âI was just⊠thinking.â
âAbout a guy?â He pokes.
You take a breath. Youâve been in love with Mingi for so long now, you may as well go for it. âAbout you.â
âMe?â He looks surprised. âI donât get it.â
âI tink about you all the time, Mingi.â It comes spilling out. âYou bending me over my desk, you pinning me against the wall, kissing me⊠all that kind of thing⊠daddy.â You whisper the last word.
âDaddy?â He whispers back.
You squeeze your eyes shut. âYeahâŠâ
âCall me that again, sunflower.â
You open your eyes. Heâs looking at you intensely, his eyes burning with a fire youâve never seen. âCall me daddy.â
âDaddy⊠will you fuck me?â You whimper, putting it all on the line.
âShit.â Mingi says softly. âIâve been wanting you to ask for so long. Yeah, daddyâll take care of you.â
-----
Wooyoung:
You and Wooyoung are working on a song, and your mind starts to wander.
You usually donât write sexy music, but the melody Wooyoung has built with the guitar combined with the riff youâve composed on your bass has an undeniable seductiveness to it. Heavy, like a heartbeat, but somewhat risky, too. Wooyoungâs got an effects pedal plugged into his guitar thatâs making it even hotter.
And youâre thinking about his fingers deep inside you as you play the bass line youâve got down practically by heart at this point.
âThat sounds really good, y/n!â Wooyoung says loudly over your playing.
âThanks, daddy!â You say back, and then stop playing as you realize what youâve just said, staring at him for any reaction.
âDaddy?â Wooyoung laughs. âDamn, youâre really getting into the⊠mood of the song, arenât you?â
âI am.â You laugh nervously, hoping heâll dismiss it at that.
But he takes a step closer. âDidnât know you had a thing for âdaddyâ. Iâll have to keep that in mind.â He taps the tip of your nose, winks, and turns around to pick up his guitar again.
You feel hot all over. âWhat do you mean keep that in mind?â
âI just mean itâs good to know what youâre into. You know, in case you want to fuck.â He slings the guitar strap over his head, facing away from you, but you can hear the smile in his voice.
âIn caseâ what?â You sputter.
âOh, câmon, Iâve noticed.â He smirks. âYou stare at my fingers a lot when Iâm playing. You want them inside you.â
âIâ I mean, maybe.â You exhale.
âIâm up for it if you are.â He starts playing the chorus to the song, looking down at his guitar, and you notice the blush on his cheeks.
You smile. Wooyoungâs just as down bad as you are.
-----
Jongho:
You and Jongho are watching a movie, and your mind starts to wander.
Jongho kissing you, pushing you down into the couch, making you his.
You sneak a glance at him. Heâs watching the fight scene contentedly, sticking a piece of popcorn in his mouth. He doesnât even notice you looking.
You carefully slip one hand under the blanket on your lap.
And then you slide it under your sweatpants.
You close your eyes for a second. It feels so good to touch yourself after how worked up youâve made yourself thinking about him. You know itâs wrong to touch yourself thinking about your best friend, much less when said best friend is sitting next to you, but you canât stop yourself now.
âFuck, Jongho, daddy.â You whisper, the words bubbling up on your tongue before you can stop them.
âDid you justâŠâ The movie pauses, and you open your eyes to see Jongho looking at you, blinking.
âOh, I was justâ umââ You search for words, but you canât find any.
He grabs the blanket and pulls it off, revealing your hand down your pants. You snatch it out and he takes it, licking your fingers and making hard eye contact with you.
You shiver. You hadnât been expecting that.
âBeautiful girl.â He whispers. âWere you touching yourself thinking about me?â
âMaybe.â You whisper back. âI⊠maybe.â
âYou shouldâve just asked me to do it for you.â He licks again. âI wouldâve said yes.â
âCan you do it for me?â You breathe.
His eyes glint. âSure thing, baby.â
#ateez#ateez headcanons#ateez drabbles#ateez x reader#hongjoong#kim hongjoong#hongjoong x reader#seonghwa#park seonghwa#seonghwa x reader#yunho#jeong yunho#yunho x reader#yeosang#kang yeosang#yeosang x reader#san#choi san#san x reader#mingi#song mingi#mingi x reader#wooyoung#jung wooyoung#wooyoung x reader#jongho#choi jongho#jongho x reader
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Buck reaches the top of the stairs and looks around. His eyes zero in on Eddie, sitting on the couch, doing something with his phone.
Looking down at his hand, Buck nods in decision and confidently walks over to Eddie.Â
âHere,â Buck says, thrusting his hand out to Eddie.
âJesus!â Eddie yelps, startled. âBuck, what the hell, man?â
âJust take this,â Buck says firmly, waving the thing he is holding.Â
Eddie looks at him unimpressed, the familiar expression that says âwhy do I put up with you?â, but then he grabs the ticket.Â
âThis is a Lakers ticket,â Eddie says breathlessly.Â
âYeah, I know,â Buck says dejectedly, looking forlornly at the ticket.Â
âWhy are you giving me this? Not that Iâm complaining!âÂ
Buck sits heavily on the armchair and tries to make himself look smaller. âTommy gave it to me⊠it was a gift for our six-month anniversary.â
âOh,â Eddie mouths the word and looks down at the ticket in apprehension. âOk, that doesnât really explain why you are giving it to me, though.âÂ
âIâm not giving it to you, or well, not really. I just need you to give it back to Tommy.âÂ
âGive it back?â Eddie asks confused. âWait, he only got one ticket?âÂ
âNo, of course not. He got two but⊠I- Iâm keeping the other as a sort of, as a souvenir or memory or whatever,â Buck shrugs his shoulders, feeling a blush creeping up his neck.Â
âSeriously? Youâre not going?â
âI donât want to go alone! The sear next to me will be empty and I just, I just know that I wouldnât be able to enjoy it.âÂ
âIf only you didnât have a friend who likes basketballâŠâ Eddie says drily.Â
Sighing, Buck replies, âI know but it would be weird going with you instead of him⊠Just give it to him and tell him he can go!âÂ
âAre you sure?â
âI- Yeah, yeah, Iâm sure,â Buck says, trying to sound confident but he is sure he doesnât quite manage it.Â
âAlright, buddy. I will do it,â Eddie replies, giving him that small smile filled with sympathy that he has been giving him since the break-up.
â
Itâs the day of the game and Buck is lying down on his bed trying to forget about it. However, his eyes keep going to the little box under his dresser. After one too many times glancing at the box and then at the ceiling, Buck huffs and moves over to grab it.Â
Buck sits down heavily on the bed and carefully opens the box. As soon as he sees the content, his stomach twists and he starts to get teary-eyed. He hadnât planned to have a box, it sort of just happened. It started when Buck returned home from their coffee date and found the receipt for their coffee in his wallet. It had been an impulsive decision to save it instead of throwing it away. Soon after that, Buck started to keep other things: like the ticket for the first movie they saw together, the coaster of one of the bars they went to, a copy of the recipe of the first dish they cooked together, etc.Â
After the break-up, Buck added to the box the pictures he had of both of them and the ticket for the Lakers game. He grabs it and turns it around, this way and that way. Eddie told him that Tommy didnât want to accept the other ticket back and that he had tried to convince Eddie to go with Buck. In the end, he kept it but implied that he wasnât going to go.Â
Looking down at his watch, Buck realizes that he still has time to make it. He contemplates it for a couple of minutes and then he thinks fuck it and decides to go.Â
â
âHi, excuse me, sorry, sorry, excuse me,â Buck says as he shimmies through the seats.Â
Once he finally reaches his empty seat, he looks up and freezes.Â
âTommy,â Buck breathes out, feeling as if his heart is about to explode from his chest.Â
âEv- Buck,â Tommy says, just as surprised.Â
They donât move, they just stay there standing, looking at each other like a deer caught in the headlights.Â
âFucking sit down, what the hell are you guys doing?â A man sitting in the row above yells at them.Â
They both mumble their apologies and sit down, with their backs ramrod straight, and looking ahead.Â
 âIâm sorry, I will go,â Tommy says after a while of awkward silence. âEddie told me you werenât going to come so I just decided at the last minute to come and.. Anyway, I will go.â
âNo,â Buck says loudly, grabbing onto Tommyâs arm.Â
Buck looks at his hand and exhales shakily. He swears he felt a shiver running through his spine as soon as he touched Tommy. His hands, his body, all of him has missed him terribly.Â
âSorry,â Buck lets go of the arm, even though it pains him to do so. âStay, you donât have to go. The game is about to start, just, please stay.âÂ
Tommy searches Buckâs face and, after a few agonizing seconds, he nods and sits more comfortably.Â
Sighing in relief, Buck turns back to the court and tries to reassure himself that this is ok. Everything will be fine. Just two exes, sitting next to each other, watching a basketball gameâŠ
â
If you were to ask Buck how the game is going, what the score is, who is winning, and which player was the best at the moment, he would be unable to answer. He has no idea what has been happening, all he knows is that even though they are not touching, he can feel Tommyâs arm and leg right next to his.Â
Even though he is surrounded by the smell of popcorn, hot dogs, and many other things, Buck swears that the only thing he can smell is Tommyâs oud cologne. All he wants to do is turn to Tommy and nuzzle his face against his neck to be able to breathe in that smell. He has missed that smell terribly, his pillows and sheets had long ago lost any traces of it.Â
Suddenly, he hears Tommy mutter, âOh, shit.âÂ
Buck looks over quickly, fearing that Tommy is feeling ill or that something bad happened, but he sees him looking up at something. Following his gaze, he finds that they are on the stadium screens. The Kiss Cam has chosen them.Â
Glancing back at Tommy, they make eye contact but make no other move. People around him cheer and yell at them to just do it.Â
This might be the last time I get to feel his lips again⊠the last time I kiss him , Buck thinks.Â
It is that thought that makes him shrug his shoulders sheepishly at Tommy, as if saying, âIâm down if you are.âÂ
Tommy glances at Buckâs lips and nods. They both lean in at the same time and when their lips touch, Buck feels as if heâs coming home. Kissing Tommy again is like getting a breath of fresh air.Â
It isnât until he hears someone yelling to get a room that Buck pulls away reluctantly. Tommy has his eyes closed and his mouth is still open a little bit. Buck wants to lean in and kiss him again.Â
Once Tommy opens his eyes, Buck sees that there are tears in them.Â
âIâm sorry⊠Iâm sorry. I- I need to go,â Tommy says in a choked-up voice.Â
Buck stays still, watching as, once again, Tommy walks away from him, from his life, from them.Â
âNot again,â Buck says under his breath.Â
Determined, he stands up and starts to follow him.Â
âSorry, sorry, excuse me.â
âYou go get him, honey,â A woman sitting in the row above winks at him.Â
Blushing, Buck nods and replies, âThanks! I will!â
Once he is out of the stands, Buck starts to run, wanting to catch up to Tommy. As he reaches the part of the facilities where the concession stands and bathrooms are, he runs straight into someone.Â
âFuck!â Tommy says.
âOuch!â âBuck replies.Â
They look at each other and laugh awkwardly.
âWhy were you returning? Did you forget something?â Buck asks, suddenly nervous and forgetting everything he wants to say to him.Â
âYeah, yeah, I forgot something,â Tommy tells him before pulling Buck close and kissing him even more passionately than before.Â
After breaking the kiss, Tommy says breathlessly, âIâm sorry for running away⊠both times. I just got so scared about my feelings for you, and your feelings for me, and how you can so easily break me into pieces.âÂ
âIâm sorry too!â Buck tells him while cupping Tommyâs cheek. âI should have fought for you, I should have gone after you.âÂ
âNo, no,â Tommy shakes his head vehemently. âI walked away so I was the one who had to return to you.â
Buck kisses him again, a short, sweet and tender kiss.
âIâm trying to be better, Evan. Iâm going to work on not letting fear control me because I- I, well⊠I love you.â
Smiling brightly and feeling as if everything is right in the world, Buck replies, âI love you too⊠just as you are. And I will be there for you, and I will help you to not run away again when you get scared, ok?â
âOk⊠god, I love you so much,â Tommy says, chuckling.Â
âI love you too,â Buck replies again while kissing Tommyâs nose, cheeks, and mouth.Â
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'Ride em' Cowgirl'
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Word count: 3.3k
Warnings: SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY, swearing, fluff.
AN: Here it is, the requested part 2 of my 'Giddy up Cowboy' Drabble. I'm blown away by all of the love and support on my work lately and had to give you something tasteful in return for all your lovely appreciation. I hope you enjoy âșïž
Tagging: @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog and @rizlowwritessortof
Main Masterlist
The ride back to the motel feels like an eternity. The engine of the Impala hums beneath you, a comforting sound youâve grown used to over the past few months of hunting with the Winchesters. But tonight, that familiar hum does little to calm the storm thatâs building in the air between you and Dean.
Sam sits in the passenger seat, blissfully unaware of the electricity crackling in the space between you and his older brother. His head is turned slightly, eyes focused on his phone as he scrolls through something, probably researching the next hunt. Heâs completely oblivious, lost in his world, but you and Dean? You're both caught up in something far more dangerous.
You shift in your seat, the leather of the Impala's interior squeaking slightly beneath you, but itâs nothing compared to the way your body is reacting to the proximity of Dean, to the memory of the words you said back at the bar. "I think I can ride him better." The double meaning of the comment, the tease that youâd laid on him, was still hanging heavily in the air.
You glance at him, his profile visible from the corner of your eye. His jaw is tight, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little too hard, and you canât help but notice the way his bicep flexes with the tension. The urge to reach over and touch him, to bridge that last bit of space between you, is almost overwhelming.
Samâs voice pulls you from your thoughts as he glances over his shoulder, a slight grin on his face. âYou two are awfully quiet. You sure everythingâs alright?â
Dean clears his throat, his voice low, a little too steady. âYeah, weâre fine, Sammy. Just tired.â
Sam nods, not catching the edge in his brotherâs voice, and goes back to whatever heâs reading on his phone. You, however, catch the way Deanâs eyes flicker to youâa brief glance, but enough to make your pulse quicken. You feel that familiar heat rise between you both, the kind that only the two of you understand.
Every mile feels like it stretches on forever. You catch Deanâs gaze again, and this time, his eyes linger a little longer, something raw and unspoken in them. You know heâs struggling to keep his composure, just as you are.
Finally, the motel comes into view. The neon lights of the sign flicker, the soft hum of the parking lot filling the quiet car. Sam lets out a loud yawn and stretches, oblivious to the way the tension between you and Dean has reached its breaking point.
âMan, Iâm pretty beat.â Sam says, giving you both a tired smile as he climbs out of the car. You and Dean follow suit, both of you stepping out with a quiet but unmistakable urgency.
Deanâs hand brushes against yours as he walks you to your roomâjust a few doors before his and Samâs, and itâs enough to send a shiver down your spine. You both stand there for a moment, looking at your motel room door in front of you, the unspoken weight of everything you've both been avoiding for so long finally sinking in.Â
Sam walks on ahead, muttering something about needing to âhit the hay,â and you both watch as he disappears into the room before Dean turns to you, his voice low and controlled.Â
"You werenât kidding earlier, huh?â
"No," you say, your voice just above a whisper, because you canât take it anymore, and itâs enough to send the heat between you two spiralling. "I wasnât.â
Dean doesnât need any more encouragement. He moves first, closing the distance between you two with a single, decisive step. His lips crash against yours, hard and desperateâlike heâs been holding back everything heâs been feeling for far too long.Â
His mouth is warm and insistent, and you open up to him instinctively, your hands finding their way to the open fabric of his flannel, pulling him even closer.Â
You moan into the kiss, clinging to him as if he were your last source of oxygen. Consuming what he was willing to give as long as he was willing to give it. Deanâs hands slide down to your hips, gripping hard enough to leave small fingerprint indents when your tongue slides past his lips. His responding groan is low, bordering on a growl, and he walks you back against your door, his hands unable to stay in one place for too long.Â
His touch, his scent, and his delectable mouth were quickly descending you into a state of ecstasy. You were already hooked and desperate for more.Â
âInside.â You mumble against his lips, and he offers you a curt nod before he breaks the kiss, allowing you a moment to breathe as you turn to unlock your door. Heâs already pressing himself against you from behind, his hands wandering from your hips to boldly cupping your breasts over your thin t-shirt, beneath your jacket.
It takes you until your third try before you finally stumble inside. Dean quick to kick the door shut with his foot as he ravishes your neck with wet kisses and thumbs at your pebbled nipples poking through your lace bra, risen from both his ministrations and the cool air.
You push back against him and gasp at the feel of his obvious arousal through his jeans. His reaction to you sent a thrill of excitement through you as well as a feeling of pride swelling in your chest.Â
"Fuck, you have no idea how long Iâve wanted this. Wanted you.â Dean pants into your neck as you roll your hips against him. He presses into you with each roll, making his eyes roll back and his hands move to find purchase on your hips again.Â
âI think I have some notion.â You quip with one last push back against him before turning in his arms. You offer him a sly smile and look up at him through your lashes as you trail and hand down his firm chest and over his toned stomach before cupping him through his jeans. His hips instinctively thrust into your palm, and you grant him some relief by adding pressure and rubbing your hand along his length.Â
His gaze is stormy as he looks down at you, watching you watch your own hand grope him in wonder. It was one of the hottest things heâd ever seen. Suddenly, he pulls your hand from him, the feeling both incredible yet frustratingly not enough, and you look up at him in question, but heâs quick to reclaim your lips again.Â
The urgency from before is back with a vengeance as you claw at each otherâs clothes, peeling away layers upon layers between heated kisses, until finally, youâre left in nothing but your panties, and Dean in his boxers.Â
His gaze roams over you unapologetically, taking in every curve and scar; your heaving breasts on display with a hunger youâd never seen in another man's eyes before. But there was more behind his desire. There was a look of longing, of wanting this for so long and finally having it, simmering within those pools of green. And you understood. Because you felt the exact same.Â
As if in sync, you reached for one another again. Deanâs hands framed your face as he dipped down to kiss you again. This time softer, more tender, making you all but melt into his arms. He walked you backwards, never parting his lips from yours, until the backs of your thighs met the edge of the mattress.Â
You pulled away from him then and climbed up onto the bed, with him quickly following, crawling up and over you like a predator stalking his prey. Your head fell back onto the pillows as his firm body covered yours, his mouth quickly attaching itself to your neck, kissing, sucking, and nibbling at the tender flesh until you were bucking your hips up against him.Â
He smirks into your neck, loving the fact you were so reactive to him, even by the simplest of touches. He decides to give you some relief and trails his mouth down your body, stopping at your chest. He waited for you to look at him, his warm breath fanning over your perked nipple, and only when you finally meet his gaze does he wrap his lips around your pebbled nub.Â
Your mouth fell open in a silent scream, watching his eyes fall shut as he sucked and nibbled at your nipple. The sensation was almost overwhelming, and your hips ground for any kind of friction to relieve the building ache between your legs. Your hand slid into his hair, pulling harshly at the soft spikes atop his head, making him groan, and the vibration sent tiny shocks of pleasure throughout your nerve endings.Â
He moves onto your other breast, the wetness of your abandoned nipple cooling against the air conditioning unit, softly buzzing in the background, the feeling only adding to the incredible pleasure his mouth was giving your other breast.Â
âFuck, Dean.â You gasp, just as his left hand trailed down your side and sneakily slipped into your panties. Two of his thick digits were quick to find your clit and you shuddered from the contact. He begins to circle your bundle of nerves slowly, much like the motion of his tongue against your nipple.Â
You fist his hair again, moaning loudly as he dips an experimental finger into your soaked hole, gathering your wetness and resuming his attention back on your clit.Â
âYouâre so wet, baby.â He grunts against your chest, frowning in concentration as he picks up his pace. âThat all for me?â All you could do was nod and then cry out as his fingers rubbed you faster, sending jolts of pleasure down to the tips of your toes, which soon curled as your body began to tense.Â
âFuck, fuck, fuck.â You repeated it like a mantra, the coil in your belly wound tight and ready to spring.Â
âThatâs it, baby. Cum all over my fingers.â He husks in your ear, and you look down your body, watching the muscles in his forearm dance with effort from the maddening pace of the hand buried deep in your underwear. The sight was your undoing, and your whole body stiffened. Mouth dropping open in a silent scream, the sound trapped in your throat as your body convulsed and shuddered against him.Â
Deanâs hand began to slow with your descent into bliss, coming to a complete stop once you deflated back onto the mattress, completely boneless.Â
âHoly shit.â You huffed with an incredulous chuckle because, holy shit. Youâre not even sure youâd ever come so hard with your own hand. And if just his fingers could bring you so much pleasure, it left you wondering what else you were in store for. Although you didnât have to wonder for much longer when Dean shifted beside you and you felt the straining press of his cock against your thigh.Â
You turned to him and cupped his cheek with your right hand, pulling him into a slow and sensuous, grateful kiss. He hummed happily against your lips as you rolled him onto his back. His arms coming up to wrap around you, to keep you close as you took his breath away.Â
With him distracted, you grasped his tented length, massaging him as best you could through the fabric of his boxers. He broke the kiss and dropped his head back against the pillows, eyes shut tight as you relieved some of the pressure.Â
You smiled devilishly at him and rose to your knees beside him. He watched you in wonder as you peeled the last item of clothing from him, helping you by lifting his hips. Your eyes widened in both shock and amazement at the sight of him. Your mouth watered and pussy throbbed, desperate for a taste, for the feel of him inside you.Â
You gathered him in your hand, relishing in the warm weight of his impressive cock. Dean released a deep sigh at the feel of your delicate hand slowly, teasingly pumping him. He was as hard as granite, throbbing in your hand, and you marvelled at the way your simple movements had him panting, wanting and desperate beneath you.Â
Laying comfortably between his parted thighs, You ran your tongue along the length of him. The deep, responsive moan from him giving you the encouragement to do it again and again until he was slick with your saliva and fisting the sheets beneath him tight.Â
âHoly.. shit.â Dean gasped as you took him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his silky head before sinking your mouth onto him. The action brought with it a salty tang and a variety of praises and profanities. Between your legs, a new wave of wetness coated your already ruined underwear as you worked him over in your mouth and with your hand.Â
Looking up at him, he was a sight to behold. His skin glistening, chest heaving, sinful lips parted, and eyes squeezed shut. He was beautiful in every scenario it seemed.Â
âOh God.â Deanâs eyes snapped open then, his body tensing, and he quickly sat up, pulling you from him. You looked at him alarmed, wiping at the spit collected at the corners of your mouth.Â
âWhat? Whatââs wrong?â You lay a comforting hand on his shoulder, waiting for him to take a few deep breaths before he released a breathless chuckle.
âYou were about to make me cum.â He told you honestly, and you blushed a little, but wondered why heâd stopped you?Â
âAnd?â You giggled softly, though squeaked, when he suddenly manhandled you into his lap. You had to bite back a groan at the feel of his hard length bumping against you through your panites.Â
âAnd? I was promised a ride.â His voice is low and sultry, but his face is filled with his usual boyish, giddy excitement. You giggled and shook your head, realising youâd somehow fallen for a complete dork.Â
You cup his scruffy cheeks in your palms and plant a warm kiss against his lips, the smiles on your faces quickly fading as your tongue swept against his, reigniting the ache between your legs and the need for more.Â
You reluctantly pull away and slide off of him, removing and kicking away your underwear before climbing back onto him. He welcomes you eagerly, claiming your mouth once again with a kiss filled with passion and ignition.Â
You slowly guide him onto his back and pull away breathless. His hands slide from your back to your hips as you sit up, grinning down at him. His green eyes look up at you, dark and entranced, roaming over every inch of you in amazement.Â
You bite down on your lip as you settle against him, the wet seam of your pussy covering his length, making you both groan at the contact. You roll your hips experimentally, your head falling back as you steadied yourself against his firm stomach, picking up your pace until you were slick and ready.Â
âFuck sweetheart. Youâre a dream.â Dean says breathlessly and with an honest gaze. You smirk down at him, slowing your roll, and he watches you.Â
âI think itâs time I make do on that promise.â You tell him. âThink I can last the full 90 minutes?â You tease, and Dean chuckles, rubbing lovingly at your thighs, hips, and up your sides.Â
âI have no doubts, baby.âÂ
In one swift movement, you rise up on your knees and grasp his length, angling him just right before you sink down onto him. Both of your mouths drop open in respective pleasure. Youâre slick enough to take him most of the way, only rocking gently a few times until heâs fully sheathed.Â
âFuuck.â He moans, and itâs long and drawn out because Dean canât quite fathom the feeling of you wrapped tightly around him. Heâs been to heaven, hell, and everything in between, but this was something else entirely. The best pie heâd ever tasted, the feeling he got behind the wheel of babyâall things paling in comparison to this moment.
Once the initial stretch of him blurred from pain into pleasure, did you then rise up and slowly slide back down, gasping in almost disbelief at the incredible feel of him inside you. You repeated the movement again and again until you built up a steady rhythm, rocking, rolling, and grinding your hips to find the most intense spots of pleasure.Â
All the while Dean let you ride him, watching in awe as you did in fact âride him better." However, to give you a challenge, he bucked his hips up into you, meeting you thrust for thrust. You held on tightly, eyes rolling back at the much harsher thrusts hitting you just right, but you werenât about to let him win.Â
With one hand firmly planted on his chest, you leaned back, reaching your arm around to fondle his balls. Dean jolted in surprise but moaned deep and loud as you gently caressed them in your palm. You smiled in triumph as he relinquished his thrusts, and you sped up your movements, feeling his balls draw tight.Â
âOh, fuck, oh shit.â His words were breathless and strained as his body tensed, brow furrowing, hands gripping tight onto your hips as he came. Hard. You felt his warm seed coat your walls along with a long, deep groan as you circled your hips, milking every last drop.Â
You grinned down at him as he collapsed back onto the bed, panting hard and weightless. You could feel him still twitching inside you, and you involuntary clenched at the sensation, making his head pop back up to look at you.Â
His eyes were wild, his chest flushed red, and wordlessly he slid a hand over to your lower stomach, his thumb pressing against your sensitive clit, making you gasp. Deanâs eyes closed at the feeling of you clenching around him but began circling your clit with the digit, watching on in admiration as you slowly rocked your hips into his hand, chasing your own sweet release.Â
Dean was a generous lover, but youâd given him a run for his money in that department tonight. It was only common curtesy he had you come again. Even if your pussy was all but strangling his sensitive cock, it felt incredibleâa sensation heâd never felt before. He could feel himself hardening again at just the sight and feel of you, surprising you as much as himself.Â
âOh God.â You cried out, your walls fluttering around him as you ground into his hand, his thumb flicking against your clit, harder and faster until you were shaking above him. Then he thrust his hips up, once, twice, three times, and you were falling apart. Your body tensed and twitched above him, your mouth falling open in a silent cry as the white hot pleasure of your orgasm rippled through you. Â
âShit.â Your eyes popped open when you felt it. Warmth spread inside you for a second time as Dean cried out in painful pleasure. Holy shit was all that you could comprehend as he tensed beneath you.Â
Shocked silence filled the room as you both stared at one another, catching your breaths, until a chuckle of disbelief slipped from his lips, triggering your own laughter. Â
You fell onto his chest, letting his soft cock slip from you with a slight hiss from him. You soothed a hand a long his chest, planting a sweet kiss there before leaning up and coming face to face with him.Â
"So, was IâŠBetter?â You wondered curiously, whilst absently playing with his mused, sweat slicked hair. Dean grinned in response and cupped your jaw tenderly.Â
"Oh, you so were." He replied before pulling your lips to his.Â
AN: Okay so this one was just pure smut! đ but let me know what you think? Was this a good tie up for these two đ
#supernatural#dean winchester#sam winchester#spnfamily#spn imagine#spn fanfic#dean winchester x reader#dean x reader#dean winchester smut#dean winchester fanfiction#spnfandom#dean x reader smut#smut#jensen ackles#jensen ackles characters#dean x you#dean winchester x you#happy hump day#dean winchester x reader smut#reader insert#dean winchester x female!reader#spnedit#spn#abbalina writes
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WIP excerpt for lottie behind the cut; "a pocketful of Kons". (( chrono || non-chrono ))
. . . okay, so they were going to the Watchtower, Tim finds out literally on the Watchtower with his two-day go-bag hooked over one shoulder. Bruce literally did not even say they were walking into a disguised zeta tube until he activated the damn thing. Dick looks wry, his own go-bag over his shoulder, but also not all that surprised; Tim is definitely surprised, and also immediately mortified. Bruce brought them to the Watchtower? The Watchtower is full of people! People who will take one look at Stud and see Superman! See Superman and also almost definitely ask Studâs name!Â
And yes, obviously heâs going to need a fake one for him because secret identities exist for a reason, but the thing about being a Bat is, they use the fake names for their secret identities, because Bruce lives and breathes frigginâ 5D chess and is way more âBatmanâ than heâs ever been âBrucieâ, so if anyone asks Tim will, in fact, have to tell them Studâs actual name. Especially because heâs pretty much positive Stud will be a goddamn brat about it if he tries using a fake name for him anyway, given the otherâs clear disdain for anything not a cape and S-shield.Â
So yeah, the chances of at least one if not multiple of Earthâs greatest heroes looking him in the eye and asking him what his Pocketâs name is at some point in the next ten minutes are . . . not nonzero, put it that way.Â
Tim seriously considers just finding the nearest airlock and hacking through the safety protocols in self-defense.Â
Or maybe just the incinerator. Thereâs probably an incinerator somewhere on the Watchtower, right? Thereâs gotta be.Â
Dick pats his shoulder sympathetically. Tim immediately feels worse, because if itâs that obvious how mortifying this whole experience is about to be for him, itâs going to be even more mortifying than that.Â
âCodenames only,â Bruce makes a point of stating, not bothering to look back as he strides down the hall ahead, Cat all masked up and hidden under the fall of his cape. Which as a statement, obviously, is meant for Stud, but given how stubborn and contrary Studâs been so far . . .Â
âPlease,â Tim hangs back to add under his breath as Dick heads after Bruce with Star and Red on his shoulders, Red in her own mask and Star not having bothered, for obvious reasons. Stud frowns, looking puzzled.Â
âRob?â he tries warily, still looking a little confused.Â
âRight,â Tim agrees, resisting the urge to try convincing Stud to hide under his cape and just following after Dick and Bruce. Chances of Stud being willing to hide are unlikely, and it seems much more likely to annoy or upset him. So likeâfight the battles you can win, and all. And avoid aggravating your tiny, unpredictable soulmate who isnât actually Superman but sure does look like Superman.Â
Tim really, really hopes that Stud is Supergirl, because that implies him being capable of turning into a form much easier to explain to his dad and also maybe at least not being just a guy, which is still something he doesnât know how he really feels about. Even if it also implies Lex Luthor Junior being immediately relevant to the state of his love life. But heâs not really holding out much hope for that right now, considering . . . everything, basically.Â
Though dealing with Luthor Junior might be better than dealing with the creepy cyborg guy, whoever he is.Â
âRob Rob Rob,â Stud chants happily to himself as he flies ahead to Red and she gives his head a pat, and Star flies over to meet him and gives him a big, body-squeezing hug, nuzzling into his curly hair as her own half-envelopes him. Stud crows delightedly and lunges into the hug to send them both tumbling through the air, and Star croons affectionately at him and swings him around as she hugs him harder, glowing sunlight-bright at the same time. Stud crows, and Tim hears Cat laugh lowly from inside Bruceâs cape.Â
Itâsâweird, sort of, Tim thinks for a moment, half-distracted and resisting the urge to frown to himself. The way the Pockets have been interacting, he means. Studâs been aggressively flirty and boastful and constantly chattering on and on in Pocket-talk and is clearly trying to be charming while mostly being overbearing, which isnât very much like either Supergirl or Superman and also should have at least Red annoyed with him, and most likely Cat too.Â
Except Cat just seems to find Stud funny and Red sort of wryly accepts him, even though neither of them have much patience for anyone as loud and pushy and attention-demanding as Studâs been acting. And Star flirts back with him a bit, but more playfully than anything else; sheâs mostly treating him like she thinks heâs cuteâlike, cute like a puppy or a baby, not like another fully-grown sapient adult being. And theyâre all putting up with behavior they usually wouldnât tolerate from any man, for whatever reason.Â
Thatâs . . . weird, yeah.Â
Very weird.Â
Tim frowns to himself after all, then immediately gets distracted by the mortifying experience of Stud zipping over to loop around Bruceâs head and chitter indignantly at him until Cat slips out of the shadows of his cape and purrs up at him. Stud lights up in unrestrained delight, then dives down and snatches her up to carry off back to Star and Red, crowing triumphantly as he does. Cat cackles and Starfire giggles and Red lets out a huffed little laugh of her own.Â
Bruce at least ignores him and Dick muffles his own laugh, but Tim is still mortified.Â
Stud looks back at him looking way too proud of himself, then chirps excitedly and holds Cat up inâlike in display, almost, like he just won a prize or an award or something and is showing it off to him. Cat just chuckles indulgently and scritches him under the chin.Â
. . . yeah, âweirdâ is actually not a strong enough word to go with here, probably.Â
âWeirdâ is so not a strong enough word to go with here, in fact.
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who hurt you? [ii]
pairing: tara carpenter x reader
summary: Tara mistakenly puts herself in a relationship she thought would be full of love.
word count: 1822
warnings: (Tara's POV), mentions of abuse, violence, angst, swearing
a/n: ok hi guys this is mostly Tara's POV and won't really be focusing btwn her and r's relationship. the next part would probably be the last one too but im always up on doing head canons for this pic. anyways apologies for any inaccuracy for this part, if ya'll have any feedback or suggestions feel free to dm me or send anonymously.
part [i] |
Tara never meant for any of this to happen.
She first met Amber a year ago, at a party that invited everyone from both Blackmore and Woodsboro High. Tara went with you at first, but you quickly got caught up in the chaos of the event, drinking with friends to drown your frustrations over the rivalry, leaving Tara to wander through the crowd alone.
Tara glanced around the room, feeling a bit out of place without you. It was her first real taste of a high school party, but somehow, she couldnât shake the feeling that something was missing. You were missing. Some were celebratingâlaughing, dancing, and basking in the glory of their win over Blackmoreâwhile others attended this party just for an excuse to get drunk, but Tara wasnât feeling the same rush. That was when she noticed Amber standing off to the side, holding a drink and watching the crowd with a knowing smile.
Amber had been a wild card that night. No one expected her to show up, least of all Tara. But Amberâs reputation preceded herâeveryone knew she was sharp, calculated, and, most importantly, she knew how to play the game. She wasnât just there to celebrate; she was there to get ahead.
Taraâs initial impression of Amber was a mix of admiration and curiosity. Amber seemed to hold herself in a way that suggested she knew something no one else did. And that intrigued Tara, even if she couldnât quite explain why.
As Tara wandered away from the chaotic center of the party, she ended up near Amber. The two of them started talking, mostly small talk at firstâwhat they were doing after high school, the thrill of their victory, and the peculiar tension between Woodsboro and Blackmore. Tara found herself drawn to Amberâs cool confidence, the way she seemed to have everything under control.
But what started as a simple conversation slowly shifted into something deeper. Amber had a way of making Tara feel like she was the only one in the room, even when there were dozens of people around. Taraâs mind kept drifting back to the feeling Amber gave her: like maybe she could be something more, something beyond the quiet girl who never quite fit in.
And so, things began to unravel.
Tara never meant for it to go this far. It wasnât supposed to be anything serious, just a casual connection. But somewhere along the way, Amber made it clear that she wasnât just interested in Taraâs companyâshe had a plan, and Tara was a part of it. Tara hadnât realized how deep Amberâs intentions went until it was already too late. Now, Tara was left to figure out how sheâd let herself be pulled into something so complicatedâsomething that, in hindsight, was far more than just a meeting between two people at a party.
Everything was bliss when Tara and Amber started dating. She was kind, gentle, and attentiveâthe kind of person who made Tara feel understood and like the most important person in the world. It felt like a dream. Amber would send her thoughtful texts, surprise her with little gifts, and always knew how to make her laugh. Tara felt safe, seen, and loved in a way she hadnât before.
But as time went on, Amberâs true colors started to surfaceâslowly, almost imperceptibly at first.
It started with small criticisms. At first, they were disguised as concern, little comments about Taraâs appearance or habits that Amber claimed were meant to help her. "You know, if you ate healthier, maybe you wouldn't feel so tired all the time." Or, "I donât think that outfit is really doing you any favors." Tara tried to brush it off, telling herself it was just Amber wanting her to be her best. But the comments grew sharper, more frequent.
"You always mess things up," Amber would say when Tara made a mistake, like forgetting to pick up groceries or missing a text. "Why canât you ever get anything right?" Her tone wasnât playful anymore. It was condescending, even cruel. Tara began to feel like she couldnât do anything without Amber pointing out what sheâd done wrong.
The verbal jabs escalated when Amber started to get possessive. At first, Tara thought it was just a sign of how much Amber cared. But Amber's jealousy started to feel suffocating. She'd ask Tara where she was going, who she was with, and why she didnât tell her first. "You don't really need to hang out with them, do you?" Amber would ask, her voice dripping with insinuation. It would have been even worse if she had hung out with you. It was as if you were Amber's breaking point. "They donât even care about you like I do." "Iâm better than them; why are you still hanging out with them?"
Tara found herself apologizing constantlyâfor things she didnât even understand; she would say sorry just to voice the tension.Â
It was always the same cycle: Amber would get irritated for no reason, her voice would grow cold and sharp just to insult Tara. "You always do this; you always make everything more difficult than it has to be. Why canât you just do things right?". The next day, Amber would be apologetic, trying to console Tara, making her forget everything that happened the day before. She said all the right things, but Tara couldnât ignore the knot of anxiety that lingered in her chest. She had a way of twisting everything, making Tara feel like she was always in the wrong, walking on eggshells.
And soon, the emotional abuse turned into physical fights. One day, Tara had dinner plans with Mindy when Amber confronted her again, "You always do this," she snapped. "You always choose them over me." Her voice was cold, venomous.
Tara tried to explain, but Amber wasnât hearing it. "You think you can just leave whenever you want? No, youâre not going anywhere." Before Tara could react, Amber grabbed her by the armâtightly, her fingers digging into Taraâs skin. "Youâre hurting me, Amber; let me go!" Tara shouted, trying to pull away, but her grip tightened. She twisted Taraâs arm painfully, forcing her to sit down.
Taraâs heart was racing. She didnât recognize this version of Amberâthis wasnât the woman she had fallen in love with. The love they once shared felt like a distant memory, replaced with anger, control, and fear. Tara was terrified, but she didnât know how to escape. Before the day ended, Tara made up an excuse to Mindy that she couldnât make it. She thought about her friends. Chad, Mindy, You. How will she be able to explain herself? Sheâs embarrassed and ashamed of herself if she were to ever face either of you.Â
There was once when Amber picked up Tara from school when she saw her talking to you, both of you giggling like lovestruck teenagers, like you were in love with each other. And Amber simply couldnât have that. Once both of them got back to Amberâs house, she gripped Taraâs arm, demanding an explanation. "So youâre just whoring around your school with someone else? Especially them? Youâre just a slut, arenât you?" Amber seethed, her nails digging into Taraâs skin, leaving another mark on her skin. Tara stood there, tears streaming down her face, knowing no matter what she said, it would be dismissed, twisted, or ignored. "Youâre mine, Tara. Iâm not letting you go anywhere," were the last words she heard before being shoved down the stairs, undoubtedly leaving bruises all over her body. She knew the next day Amber would whisper apologies, giving her kisses and hugging her in an attempt to make her forget.
Tara began pulling away, distancing herself from you, from Chad, from Mindy, from Anikaâeveryone. It wasnât that she didnât care anymore, but she couldnât bear the thought of Amberâs wrath falling on them, especially you. She couldnât risk you getting hurt because of her, couldnât risk Amber turning her anger on the people she loved. The more Tara tried to protect her friends, the more she isolated herself.
Every moment felt like a calculation; every text, every phone call, every plan made without Amberâs approval felt like a risk. Tara started to feel like a prisoner in her own life, like Amber was always thereâwatching, waiting for her to slip up, to make a mistake.
Amber had a way of making her feel like she was constantly under surveillance, always one misstep away from an explosion. Tara couldnât shake the feeling that Amber was breathing down her neck, that every time she laughed too loudly with a friend or spent too much time away from her, Amber would find out. And when Amber found out, the consequences would be brutal. Tara had learned that the hard way.
It was like living in a constant state of fear. Taraâs heart would race whenever she saw a message from you or heard from one of her friends. She hated that it had come to thisâthat Amberâs control over her had stretched so far that she couldnât even speak freely without worrying about the fallout.
But more than anything, she hated that the woman she loved, the woman she had trusted, had become someone she feared. Every day, she woke up wondering how much longer she could live like this. How much longer until Amber's control over herâand over everyone she cared aboutâwas too much to bear?
Amberâs behavior spiraled even further. The emotional abuse had crossed into physical violence, and Tara was left unsure of where it would go next. Amber would apologize, beg for forgiveness, and then turn around and hurt her again. Tara began to feel like she was losing herself. She was afraid of what might happen if she tried to leave, afraid of what Amber might do.Â
Though she would still post pictures of them together, of them being in a happy relationship for people to see online, the reality was far different. Behind the carefully staged photos, the smiles seemed forced, the laughter hollow. She knew the posts didnât reflect the late-night arguments or the hidden marks on Taraâs body. Yet, there was comfort in the illusion, in maintaining a facade that everyone else admired. It was easier to keep up the pretense than to confront the discomfort of what was really happeningâof the slow unraveling that no one could see. The attention, the validation from likes and comments, provided a temporary sense of relief, a distraction from the gnawing uncertainty she felt every time she looked at Amber when the camera was off. It became a blurred line for Tara to interpret what was the reality and the sick image she created of her and Amber online.Â
But one thing was clear: this wasnât love anymore. And Tara didnât know how much longer she could stay in a relationship that was slowly suffocating her.
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a/n: next update might be awhile bc exam season is coming up and im a chill girl that needs to rest so you'll probably hear from me in like 2-3 weeks :p
#jenna ortega#jenna ortega x reader#tara carpenter x reader#tara carpenter#jenna ortega x y#scream#tara carpenter fanfic
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"Iâm your idiot" - Senami Shinazugawa x female reader
Summary: You get injured and Senami panics for once
Words: 4KÂ
Warnings: blood; injuryÂ
Notes: I just finished Demon Slayer hehe
Y/Nâs POVÂ
The Butterfly Mansion is so close now. Its rooftops peek through the dense forest, like a distant promise, barely visible above the treetops. The faint clash of swords echoes on the wind, sharp and rhythmic, a sound thatâs both reassuring and agonising. Every step I take feels heavier, as though my body is being pulled down by invisible chains. My legs tremble beneath me, struggling to carry my exhausted frame. Blood, sticky and hot, pools beneath my uniform, seeping through the fabric and staining my skin. Itâs a constant, unrelenting flow, a reminder that Iâm barely holding on.
Sanemiâs going to be furious.
The thought cuts through the fog of pain clouding my mind like a blade. His voice, sharp as always, rings in my ears: Why didnât you call for backup? What the hell were you thinking? Those words will biteâharsh and unforgivingâbut what stings more than the anger in his voice is the worry that always follows. Itâs the worry that weighs heavier on me than anything else.
I stumble, my foot catching on a loose rock, and I barely manage to grab hold of a tree trunk to stop myself from crashing down. My knees threaten to buckle, but I force myself forward, one step after another, despite the waves of dizziness that threaten to swallow me whole.
The courtyard is so close nowâjust ahead, an open space where the Hashira train. My heart stutters in my chest, a jarring mix of relief and dread. I donât want him to see me like this, vulnerable, broken. But I know I canât make it much farther. Iâm too far gone.
By the time I reach the courtyard, my vision is nothing but a blur of shapes and colours, spinning as if Iâm caught in a storm. The sound of sparring fills my earsâMitsuriâs laughter, light and infectious, Obanaiâs dry remarks laced with annoyance, the sharp clang of steel meeting steel as Giyuuâs blade clashes against Sanemiâs. The noises are distant, muffled, like theyâre reaching me through a thick veil of water, as though Iâm standing at the bottom of a deep well.
I take one more step.
My body betrays me. My legs give way beneath me, and the world tilts violently. The ground rises up to meet me, hard and unforgiving, as I crash to my knees. My palms scrape against the dirt, rough and raw, and a sharp jolt of pain shoots through my side. I choke on the coppery taste of blood in my mouth, swallowing back a cry that threatens to escape.
For a moment, I canât breathe. The world spins, my vision darkening at the edges. The pounding of my heartbeat fills my ears, drowning out everything else. But then, through the haze, I see themâthe Hashiraâtraining under the sun, their movements swift and fluid, their presence grounding me, even as my strength fades.
âY/N!â Mitsuriâs voice slices through the fog, high-pitched and laced with panic. My head jerks toward her, and I catch the sight of her wooden sword slipping from her hands, forgotten as she freezes in horror. Her eyes widen in disbelief, her face draining of colour as she takes in the sight of me.
Her cry cuts through the air, sharp and unrestrained, drawing everyoneâs attention in an instant. Giyuuâs movements falter, his typically serene composure briefly disrupted by a flicker of concern that crosses his stoic features. Obanai stiffens, his eyes narrowing as they fixate on me, sharp and calculating, the gears in his mind turning in silence. And Sanemiâ
Sanemi freezes mid-swing, his body tensing as if time itself has slowed. His sword, once poised to strike Giyuu with practiced precision, slips from his grip and crashes to the ground. The clang of metal against stone echoes across the courtyard, the sharpness of the sound making my already fragile heart skip a beat.
âY/N!â His voice shatters the tension, cracking with raw, unfiltered panic, cutting through the chaos like a blade.
I barely register the rush of his footstepsâfast, determinedâas he breaks into a dead sprint toward me. My arms tremble, the last vestiges of my strength giving way, and before I can crumple entirely to the earth, his presence is there, like a storm rushing in to steady me.
Sanemi drops to his knees beside me with such force that the earth beneath us seems to shudder in response. His hands are on me instantlyârough, urgent, but somehow tenderâas he pulls me against his chest, cradling me like I might slip away if he isnât careful.
âShit, shit,â he mutters under his breath, his voice barely a whisper but full of panic and disbelief. His eyes rake over me, taking in the blood soaking through my torn uniform, the tremors that wrack my body with every shallow breath. His fingers press against my side, and I canât help the sharp intake of breath, a flinch of pain that I canât hide. âWhat the hell happened to you?â
The words barely reach my mind through the haze of pain clouding everything. I try to respond, but my throat is so dry, parched, that all that escapes is a weak, rasping soundâan echo of a voice that feels like it belongs to someone else.
âDamn it, donât talk,â he snaps, his voice harsh, but the fury in his words is quickly undermined by the trembling of his hand against my side, the softness that lingers despite the anger in his tone. âYouâre bleeding everywhereâhow long have you been walking like this?â
I summon what little strength I have left to lift my gaze to his, meeting his eyesâstormy and frantic, filled with a mixture of disbelief, anger, and something softer, something buried deeper that I canât quite place. With great effort, I force my lips into the faintest of smiles, even though every fibre of my being aches in protest. âDidnât... want to bother you,â I whisper, each word a struggle, each breath like shards of glass in my chest.
His expression contorts, his lips parting as though to say something, but no words come. For a moment, he simply stares at me, his chest rising and falling rapidly, as though he's at war with himself. Heâs torn, and itâs painfully evidentâtorn between the fury that surges within him and the vulnerability that threatens to break through.
âBother me?â he growls, his voice thick with emotion, his hand tightening around me, but not in a way that would hurt. âYouâreââ He stops himself, inhaling sharply through his nose as though trying to calm the storm inside him, trying to keep himself from unraveling.
Behind him, Mitsuri hovers anxiously, her hands clasped over her mouth, her wide eyes filled with worry. Obanai stands a few steps back, his usual calm indifference replaced by a rare flicker of unease. The atmosphere around us is thick with tension, heavy and suffocating.
âGiyuu, go get Shinobu,â Sanemi barks, his voice cutting through the silence like a whip, his command sharp and unwavering despite the chaos swirling inside him. He doesnât look up from me, his focus entirely on the fragile weight of my body in his arms. Heâs shaking, but he wonât let it showânot yet.
I hear the rapid retreat of Giyuuâs footsteps as he races off to find Shinobu. His footsteps fade into the distance, and in the silence that follows, Mitsuri takes a hesitant step closer. Her voice trembles, barely more than a whisper, as she asks, âIs sheâSanemi, is she going to be okay?â
Sanemiâs jaw tightens at the question, and his lips press into a thin line, a flicker of something dangerous flashing in his eyes. He lifts his gaze to hers, the flicker of panic momentarily giving way to a controlled mask of determination. But when his eyes dart back to my face, the fear heâs trying so desperately to hide is unmistakable. Itâs there, in the way his pupils constrict, in the way his handâstill cradling meâquivers.
âShe will be,â he says, his voice firm, though the conviction falters like a thread pulled too tight.
His forehead drops to mine, and I can feel his breathâhot, unevenâagainst my skin. His presence envelops me, grounding me in a reality that feels dangerously distant. âYouâre an idiot,â he murmurs, his voice low, cracking with restrained emotion. His words sting, but itâs not the anger that cuts deep. Itâs the tremble beneath themâthe rawness, the fear. âYou couldâve died out there, and for what? To spare me a little worry?â
I manage a weak laugh, though it comes out more like a dry, desperate wheeze, and a bitter taste coats my tongue. âFigured youâd... yell at me less.â
His fingers tighten against my sideâalmost painfully soâand his shoulders tremble with the weight of emotions heâs fighting to suppress. âYou think I care about that right now?â His voice cracks, fragile and breaking. âYou think I care about how much I yell at you when youâre bleeding out in my arms?â His words are strained, raw with anguish, and the desperation that laces his voice sends a chill through me, more potent than the pain. âI justââ He stops himself, biting back whatever else he wants to say, his chest rising and falling as he draws in a shaky breath.
âSanemi...â I whisper his name, my voice barely audible, but it seems to carry the weight of everything unsaid between us.
His lips tremble, and then, before I can even blink, he interrupts me, his forehead pressing harder against mine. âIâve got you,â he says, his voice a fierce promise, though the cracks in his tone betray the fear thatâs clawing at him. âYouâre going to be fine. Justâjust stay with me, okay? Donât you dare close your eyes.â
Mitsuri kneels beside us, her hands hovering over me, as though afraid that the slightest touch will make everything worse. âSanemi, I thinkââ she begins, but her words falter in the air, swallowed by the tension.
âI know,â he snaps, but then his voice softens as my breathing catches in a strained gasp. âI know,â he repeats, almost to himself, a mantra in the silence that follows.
The world around me tilts, fading further into a haze as the darkness creeps at the edges of my vision. But still, I feel himâhis strength, his warmthâas he gently, but urgently, lifts me into his arms. The movement is careful, as if he believes that any jolt will shatter me into a million pieces. And still, his heartbeat pounds in my earsâloud, frantic, wildâbut steady enough to hold on to. His arms are like iron bands, yet thereâs a tenderness to them, a desperation that breaks through the tension.
As he rises to his feet, his voice drops to a mutter, too low for anyone else to catch, but not too low for me. âYouâre everything, you idiot,â he breathes, his words laced with an agony so pure it almost cuts through the darkness threatening to swallow me whole. âDonât you dare leave me.â
And even as the shadows tug at my consciousness, pulling me deeper into oblivion, I cling to him. To the sound of his voice, jagged and frantic. To the heat of his body, holding me together. To the promise buried in the depths of his words, a lifeline tethering me to the world, even as everything slips away.
ââ
The first thing I register is the sterile scent of herbs and salves, mingling with the faint scent of wood and fire. My body feels heavy, weighed down by exhaustion, but the softness of the futon beneath me is a welcome reprieve from the unforgiving battlefield. Each muscle aches as if Iâve been torn apart and stitched back together again, but for the first time in what feels like forever, Iâm allowed to rest.
I try to shift, but a warmth at my side stops me, pulling me back into the stillness. Slowly, my senses sharpen, and I realise my hand is wrapped in something rough, something solid. A warm, unyielding presence. I blink, my vision blurry at first as the light filters through the window, and my gaze lands on him.
Sanemi.
Heâs slumped in a chair beside the bed, his body curved toward me like a lifeline, his head resting gently on my thigh. His white hair spills messily over the edge of the blanket, soft strands caught in the light like streaks of moonlight. His grip on my hand is firm, almost desperate, as if even in sleep, heâs afraid I might slip away.
I blink back the sting of tears at the sight of him, his exhaustion written across every line of his face. His brows are furrowed even now, as though he's still fighting, still caught in some nightmare he canât wake from. I feel a pang deep in my chestâthis man, this warrior, so strong and unwavering, yet here he is, vulnerable, caught between the worlds of dreams and fear.
My free hand moves without thought, trembling fingers sliding gently through the mess of white hair, like I can anchor him to me in the way heâs always done for me. His hair is coarse, yet soft to the touch, like himâtough and unyielding, but full of unexpected warmth. I thread my fingers through it, offering a gentle, soothing stroke.
He stirs almost instantly, his head lifting slightly, his eyes blinking open slowly, groggily at first. The confusion on his face fades almost immediately, his eyes locking onto mine with wide-eyed shock. And then, a relief so intense it fills the room with the weight of it.
âY/N?â His voice is rough, hoarse, as though heâs been yelling at the world for days, his throat raw from disuse. But the fear in his eyes, the way they soften when they settle on me, tells me everything I need to know.
âHi,â I whisper, my throat dry and scratchy, the words barely leaving my lips.
For a moment, he doesnât move. Doesnât even breathe. His whole body freezes, like heâs afraid if he so much as blinks, Iâll vanish. Then, his hand tightens around mine, and he leans forward, his face hovering just above mine.
âYouâre awake,â he breathes, his voice cracking, his face inches from mine. His hand drops from my hand only to cradle my face, his thumb brushing along my cheek in a gesture so gentle, it feels like the softest of prayers. âYouâdamn it, youâve been out for four days.â
Four days?
I echo his words softly, my voice faint, barely audible. âFour days?â
He nods, his forehead dropping to rest against mine. His breath is shaky, uneven, and I can feel the tension in his body, the weight of everything heâs carried these past days, all of it pouring out in that single exhale. âFour damn days of you lying here while IâI thought I might lose you,â he mutters, the words laced with the kind of pain Iâve never heard from him before.
My hand moves again, resting softly against his cheek, feeling the roughness of his skin beneath my palm. His eyes snap open, and I smile faintly at him, the curve of my lips weak but genuine.
âIâm here, Sanemi,â I murmur softly, my voice a quiet assurance against the storm heâs been weathering. âYou didnât lose me.â
His breath hitches, and for a moment, he doesnât speak. He only stares at me, his jaw clenching as if heâs fighting to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to spill over. And when his voice finally breaks the silence, itâs barely a whisperâso quiet, yet so charged with everything heâs been holding in.
âYou scared the hell out of me,â he says, his voice low and trembling, the words laden with an intensity that shakes me to the core. His grip on me tightens, and I feel the weight of his heart pressing against mine, raw and unfiltered.
âDonât,â he cuts me off, his voice sharp but his touch impossibly gentle. âDonât apologise. Just... just promise me you wonât do something that stupid again. Promise me, Y/N.â
His words slice through the air with a force that makes my chest tighten. Thereâs a desperation in his tone that I canât ignore, an unspoken fear that tugs at the deepest part of me. Heâs trying so hard to be the brash, no-nonsense Sanemiâthe one everyone knows, the one who wears his pride like armourâbut here, in this moment, with me, heâs stripped bare, vulnerable and raw in a way Iâve never seen before.
âI promise,â I say, and the weight of the words makes them feel like a vow. I mean itâmore than I can even put into words. I wonât put him through that again.
His shoulders sag in visible relief, and for a moment, he just holds me there, his forehead still pressed against mine, grounding me. It feels like time slows, the world outside of this room falling away until thereâs nothing left but the two of usâthis fragile moment, this fragile promise.
Then, almost as if remembering who he is, he pulls back slightly, his face hardening in the way only Sanemi can. But his hand doesnât leave my face, his thumb still tracing idle patterns along my skin, a touch so soft it contrasts with his words.
âYouâre still an idiot for not calling for backup,â he mutters, the sharpness in his voice still there, but itâs tempered with something softer, something more... tender.
I canât help but smile at him, the corners of my lips lifting in a small, genuine way. âIâll call next time,â I promise, the words coming easy now.
His brows furrow in mock frustration, but the softness in his eyes betrays him. âThere better not be a next time,â he growls, and despite the threat, thereâs a protective warmth in his gaze that melts something inside me.
I laugh weakly, the sound light, but enough to ease something in him. He lets out a breath, low and quiet, like heâs been holding it in for days, and then... he leans down. The pressure of his forehead against mine relieves some of the tension thatâs been mounting in his body, but then, as if drawn by some invisible force, he presses his lipsâbarely a touch, a whisperâagainst my forehead.
Itâs fleeting, a soft, warm caress that holds more weight than any words could. The kiss sends a spark racing through me, igniting something fierce and unrelenting in my chest. The fear, the pain, the exhaustionâit all fades into the background, leaving only one undeniable truth in its place: I almost died without ever telling him how I feel.
I canât let that happen.
Before I can overthink it, my hand shoots up, fingers curling around his jaw. His eyes widen in surprise, and I see the shiftâhis guard goes up, just for a second, before I tug him down, closing the space between us. His lips are still warm from the kiss on my forehead, but this time, the kiss is mine to give.
He doesnât pull away. Thereâs a hesitation, a moment of shock in his eyes before they soften, and then heâs kissing me back. The world outside of this moment ceases to existâthereâs only the feeling of his lips on mine, the pressure of his body against me, the taste of relief and longing. His hand moves to the back of my head, holding me to him like heâs afraid Iâll slip away if he lets go.
When we finally break apart, my breath is shallow, my heart pounding in my chest as if itâs trying to make up for lost time. His forehead rests against mine again, and I can feel his pulseârapid, franticâmatching my own.
âYouâre... youâre still an idiot,â he whispers, his voice a little more hoarse than before, but thereâs something softer in his tone now. Something he hasnât allowed himself to say, something I can feel through the way his fingers tremble lightly on my skin.
âI know,â I breathe out, my voice shaky. âBut Iâm your idiot.â
He huffs out something between a laugh and a sigh, his lips quirking into a small, lopsided grin. âDamn right you are.â
The weight of everything weâve been through lingers in the space between us, heavy but comforting, as if weâre both silently acknowledging the unspoken bond thatâs been forged through our shared trials. Itâs a quiet understandingâone that only the two of us can fully grasp.
Then, without warning, he leans down again, his lips meeting mine in a kiss thatâs softer this time, slower. Thereâs no rush, no desperation. Itâs about something deeper, something more meaningful. Every brush of his lips against mine feels like a confession, a promise of everything he hasnât been able to say. Itâs a tenderness Iâve never seen from him before, and it catches me off guard in the best way.
But, of course, nothing can stay perfect for too long.
Behind us, thereâs a faint coughâawkward, yet still loud enough to interrupt. Sanemi jerks back slightly, his body stiffening as he glares over his shoulder, his face flushing an impressive shade of red. Mitsuri stands a few feet away, her hands pressed against her flushed cheeks, eyes wide with an excitement sheâs struggling to contain.
âIâsorry!â she squeaks, her voice high-pitched and practically vibrating with excitement. âI didnât mean to interrupt! I justâumâshould I get Shinobu?â
Sanemiâs scowl is quick to return, but the harshness of his usual tone is absent, replaced by something softer, more resigned. âGo!â he barks, though his voice is far from venomous. The slight embarrassment in his eyes gives away his true feelings. âJust... go.â
Mitsuri, clearly trying not to burst out laughing, nods eagerly before darting off, her excited giggles trailing behind her like a whirlwind. I bite back my own laughter, my hand still resting gently on Sanemiâs face as I meet his gaze again.
The shift in energy is palpable. What had been a tender, quiet moment now feels lighter, more relaxed, even though a faint blush still colours his cheeks. Sanemiâs scowl softens as soon as he looks at me, and I can see the weight of his emotions finally beginning to settle.
âWeâre going to talk about this,â he says, his voice firm, though thereâs no anger behind the wordsâjust an undeniable sense of care.
I canât help but smile, the corners of my lips twitching up as I stare at him. âAbout what? The fact that Iâm still breathing?â
His eyes narrow in mock suspicion, and I can see the mix of affection and frustration swirling in them. âDonât push your luck,â he mutters, though thereâs a spark of amusement dancing in his gaze.
âIâm serious,â I tease, my fingers gently tracing the outline of his jaw. âIâm not going anywhere, Sanemi. Not now. Not ever.â
His expression softens again, and for a moment, itâs like the world outside of this room has stopped spinning. Itâs just the two of us, wrapped in the aftermath of everything weâve survived and everything weâve yet to face. The unspoken words between us are more powerful than any argument or confession could ever be.
He finally gives a small nod, his thumb brushing across my cheek. âI know,â he says quietly. âI just... I wasnât ready for it. But Iâll get used to it, I guess.â
I laugh softly, the sound light and free. âGood,â I say, my voice full of affection. âBecause Iâm not planning on going anywhere either.â
Demon Slayer Masterlist To be made TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024
#kny#demon slayer#kimetsu no yaiba#demon slayer imagines#demon slayer fanfic#demon slayer headcanons#demon slayer smut#hashira#kny smut#kny headcanons#hashira smut#kny hashira#hashira headcanons#hashira imagines#sanemi shinazugawa#sanemi x reader#sanemi x you#demon slayer sanemi#sanemi smut#sanemi fluff#sanemi angst#sanemi shinazugawa x reader#sanemi shinaguzawa#sanemi shinazugawa smut#sanemi shinazugawa fluff#sanemi shinazugawa angst
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A lil fic where Ghost and Soap eat taiyaki. A lot of fluff and a little angst, mention of Ghost's family. 870 words.
âOur plane will be in five hours.â Soap said, looking at Ghost, who was lying on the bed in their hotel room, mindlessly flipping through TV channels.Â
The lieutenant didnât respond. He was hellishly tired from the mission and only dreamed of spending the time before the flight in silence and peace.Â
âPrice and Gaz went for a walk.â Soap continued, sitting on the edge of the bed and placing his hand on Simonâs chest.Â
Actually, that was not a very accurate way to put it. It would be more correct to say that Garrick had pulled Price out for a walk, and the captain wasnât putting up much of a fight.Â
âCome on, letâs go too.â Soap urged, making puppy eyes. âPlease, Si! When else will we be in Los Angeles?âÂ
The strict and unyielding Lieutenant Riley could never resist the power of those charming blue eyes of his beloved, and Johnny knew it very well. So, with a heavy sigh, Simon turned off the TV and sat up, swinging his legs off the bed.Â
Ghost and Soap were out of the hotel in no more than five minutes. The noisy, neon-lit street overwhelmed the lieutenant, and he pulled the hood of his hoodie tighter, trying to avoid the gazes of passing people. He wasnât looking around, so he didnât immediately notice that after a few turns they had found themselves in a completely different place. But Soap noticed. He had frozen in awe, admiring the bright decorations of the cityâs Japanese district. It seemed that there was some kind of festival, as crowds of people in colorful attire wandered through the streets, and booths with food, souvenirs, and other trinkets lined both sides.Â
âOh, Si, just look at this!â Johnny exclaimed excitedly, then grabbed Ghost by the hand and pulled him towards the market stalls.Â
Simon had a terrible headache. He trudged behind his energetic sergeant, trying to look at everything that Johnny pointed out and share his enthusiasm. Without waiting for additional prompts, he bought Johnny a bracelet with hieroglyphs, a few netsuke figurines of cats and dogs, and an absolutely terrible quality tanto with a bright handle, which would probably will be confiscated at the airport. Johnny was happy, and that was the most important thing for Simon.Â
âLt.! Lt.!â Soap managed to run ahead to the food stalls while Ghost clumsily maneuvered past a flock of teenagers laughing loudly and taking selfies. âLetâs get something to eat, Lt.!âÂ
The sergeant was curiously examining the different yakitori and onigiri when Simon suddenly stopped by a nearby stall, where on paper plates lay rows of golden and brown fish-shaped pastriesâtaiyaki. He stared at them, but different images filled his mind.Â
Warm yellow lanterns in a clear evening sky. Soft, pleasant music. Happy couples dancing on the wooden dance floor. Bethâs bright curly hair. Tommyâs cheerful smile. Josephâs tiny hand squeezing his fingers and pulling him away from the dance floor towards sweets stalls, among which the fish-shaped pastries stood out particularly brightly...Â
The vendorâs persistent voice was asking something of Ghost, and he barely managed to pull himself out of his memories, randomly poking at one of the pastries. In a minute he had wandered off to the side, holding a fresh and still warm taiyaki wrapped in a napkin. He barely had time to lower the simple black medical mask he wore in the city onto his chin and bite his sweet fish when a Scottish whirlwind flew towards him and grabbed him by the free hand.Â
âWhat is this, Si?â Soap asked, looking curiously at his fragrant fish-shaped pastry. âIs it sweet? Can I have a bite? It smells so good!âÂ
Riley involuntarily smiled, forcing himself to push the pain and sadness deeper, and brought the pastry to Johnnyâs lips.Â
âThis is called taiyaki.â He said as his restless sergeant chewed on the sweet fish, having bitten off nearly half of it. âJoseph⊠loved them very much.âÂ
Soap froze, and the joy in his eyes changed to a mix of concern and sympathy. He struggled to swallow such a delicious treat and tenderly placed his hands on Ghostâs waist. It was clear that he was confused and didnât know how to react or what to say. Simon sighed quietly, ran his fingers along Johnnyâs cheek, and finished the rest of the taiyaki.Â
âDo you want another one?â He asked, smiling a little sadly.
âAye!â Soap perked up. âDo they have them with chocolate? Or caramel? Are there bigger ones?âÂ
The ghosts of the past retreated under the powerful onslaught of energy and happiness radiating from Johnny. Simonâs smile became genuine and cheerful, and he led his sergeant back to the stall with the fish-shaped pastries, thinking about how his beloved man often acted like a child.Â
âJohnny.â He called out when they sat on a bench nearby, and Soap began devouring the taiyaki that his lieutenant had bought him. âThank you for bringing me out here. This is really so much better than lying in the hotel and watching that bloody TV.âÂ
Soap just smiled, quickly kissing Ghost with his lips sweetened by chocolate and anko, and popped another pastry into his Scottish mouth.
#call of duty#simon ghost riley#ghostsoap#ghost x soap#soapghost#john soap mactavish#soap x ghost#ghoap#simon riley#johnny mactavish#ghost call of duty#ghost cod#ghost mw2#soap cod#johnny soap mactavish#soap mactavish#soap mw2#cod fanfiction#fanfic#cod fic#cod fanfic#cod fluff#fanfiction
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Toto Wolff with wife reader. Feat their son, Jack. Celebrating Merc 1-2 in Las Vegas!!!! What's better than that? Anything. Fluff/suggestive. (Heard they're going out that night celebrating, must be wild partyđ€) Thanks!! :))
Las Vegas was a spectacle on any night, but tonight, it felt like the city itself was celebrating Mercedes' one-two finish. It wasnât just about the race; it was about Toto. Seeing him standing tall and proud, grinning ear to ear as his team flooded the podium, sent a wave of pride through you.
Your son, Jack, tugged on your dress, eyes sparkling as the bright lights of the city reflected in them. âDid you see Daddy up there, Mum? He looked like a superhero!â
You chuckled, ruffling his dark hair. âHeâs always a superhero, Jack.â
Now, hours later, you found yourself in the suite, Jack snuggled on the couch with his tablet while you prepared for the night ahead. The air buzzed with excitement as the Mercedes team had gone all out planning a grand celebration.
When Toto stepped out of the bathroom, your heart skipped. He wore a crisp black shirt with the top two buttons undone, sleeves rolled just enough to show off his watch and his strong forearms. He caught you staring and smirked, walking closer to place his hands on your hips.
âStop looking at me like that,â he teased, voice low. âWe still have a party to attend.â
You raised a brow. âWho says Iâm looking at you in any particular way?â
He leaned down, his lips brushing your ear. âYouâre not as subtle as you think.â
A warmth spread across your face as Jack called out from the couch. âAre we going now? I want to see Uncle Lewis and George!â
Toto straightened, laughing as he turned to Jack. âYou, my boy, are staying here with the babysitter. Adults only tonight.â
Jack groaned, dramatically falling back onto the cushions. âFine. But if thereâs cake, save me some!â
By the time you arrived at the club, it was in full swing. Music pulsed through the air, and the Mercedes crew was already halfway to a wild night. You spotted Lewis on the dance floor, sunglasses on despite the darkness, while George attempted to pull off moves that made you burst into laughter.
Toto pulled you close, one arm wrapped firmly around your waist. âYou look beautiful tonight,â he murmured against your temple.
âIâd say the same about you,â you replied, tracing a finger along his jaw. âBut we both know you always look good.â
He tilted his head back and laughed, the sound full and unrestrained. It wasnât often you saw him so carefree, and it made your heart swell.
As the night wore on, the drinks flowed freely, and the music seemed to take hold of everyone. Toto surprised you by leading you to the dance floor, his movements smooth and deliberate as he guided you along to the beat.
âYouâre a good dancer,â you teased.
âI have to keep up with you somehow,â he replied, dipping his head closer until his lips grazed your ear. âBesides, I need to make sure no one else gets the wrong idea about whose wife you are.â
The suggestive edge in his tone made your cheeks flush.
âPossessive much?â
âAlways.â
Hours later, when you finally returned to the suite, Jack was asleep in his makeshift fort on the couch. Toto looked at him, his expression softening as he gently tucked the blanket around him.
As you both slipped into bed, he pulled you close, his voice low in the quiet room. âYou know, tonight wasnât just about the team. It was about us. Everything I do, every win, itâs for this. For you and Jack.â
Totoâs sincerity never failed to undo you. You leaned in, kissing him softly. âWeâre proud of you, always.â
And in the glow of Las Vegas, with the sound of the city humming below, you fell asleep in his arms, feeling like the luckiest woman alive.
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Day 58
Hey remember when randomly a couple days ago in the event I mentioned that one of these days makes me irrationally angry??? Yeah this is the one.Â
So context for this one is that in the danganronpa section of a server Iâm in someone asked a question around the lines of-
âWho is your favorite character for a Mastermind AU?â
Nowadays if you asked me, Iâm very fond of the Mastermind AU I drew for Toko and Komaru during Tokomaru Week this year, and itâd probably be my answer nowadays.
However if you asked Jem from several months ago, who was brainrotted to absolute hell over these two to the point that she could barely form an opinion on other characters (donât worry I fixed that issue in my brain, kinda), you know damn well her instant response was Mikan.
At first it was kind of a non-serious filler answer because I didnât have anyone else who piqued my interest for that at the time. Arguably at first I wasnât even interested in Mastermind Mikan initially. And then my brain saw I was apathetic to it and was like âHold my drinkâ before it spiraled into an AU, which I of course would then use for Day 58 at the time.Â
I drew up a character design and some basic details in a total rush, and then drew a really basic but cute enough image of the two alongside various headcanons for this version of the relationship. I actually intended to draw a bonus image of the two on their own just because I felt like I was kinda scamming yaâll if I didnât. However I have like, none of the time for that on my hands right now, Iâm JUST starting to learn Web Design at the time of writing this. If people like this enough I might try and actually draw some proper art of this AU again though.
As for why this day makes me angry, uhhhh yeah no itâs completely irrational. I have no justification in the slightest I just know that every time i scroll past this one while looking through the folder of Junkan art for the project I just get annoyed.
Iâm actually really happy with the Mastermind Mikan design, might be a biiiit overdesigned? But letâs be real if weâve learned anything over the course of whatever the hell youâd call this project, itâd be that I am nothing if not a woman of pure excess, especially within the small realm of this ship.Â
Okay so hi this is Jem from like, slightly in the future. And when I say slightly I mean like 20 minutes ahead of the previous paragraph.Â
So I drew a Monokuma for this AU. Something I didnât do for my Mastermind Tokomaru AU. I kind of had the idea for a Mikan version of Monokuma in my head for a decent amount of time, partially because I also want to do some art of Mikan and Junko in Shiro/Kurokuma cosplays later (yeah sorry spoilers there is no shiro or kurokuma representation in this project. But worry not, UDG does have representation, muuuuuch later). That made me think about how Shirokuma does kind of have similarities to Mikan (i think, itâs been awhile), which made me realize that monokuma but purple sounded neat. So thereâs this now.
I imagine that Junko would still be voicing this version from behind the scenes. Partially because unless itâs literally an Ultimate Voice Actor Mikan AU thereâs no way she can do that for a whole killing game. The other reason is I just kind of imagine that Mikan would take a similar role to Tsumugi, being both a member of the killing game and the mastermind, rather than what Junko did where she faked her death and orchestrated from behind the scenes without suspicions. Also yes this would mean that Junko is behind the scenes as normal, just that this time sheâs solely focused on managing Monokuma. The Control Room is directly connected to Mikanâs room for easy, non-suspicious access to all the mechanisms. And also so the two of them can cuddle at night, obviously.Â
Oh yeah with this Monokuma Redesign I would probably also change Mikanâs hair pin to reflect the same color scheme, even if I do like the way it looks with normal Monokuma colors. I would also probably make a ânormalâ Mikan design for this version. Just tone back certain parts of it to give the illusion that she isnât the mastermind. Yâknow, for the game that will totally exist based off this au, definitely.Â
Honestly I think rambling about it has made me soften up on this one a bit, for now at least. So for real I might try and draw more of this AU regardless of whether people want it or not. That said yâknow, if you DO want more of it feel free to say so cause that will in fact give me some mild motivation lol.
Oh I guess last thing. When I first showed the initial Reference image of this Mikan to friends one of them pointed out that I accidentally made her plan into, what is essentially the American Healthcare System. I swear to god that wasnât intentional but it did make me laugh.Â
As always, Reblogs, Comments, and Little Notes in the Tags are appreciated!~ They always make my day!~
#danganronpa#junkan#junko enoshima#mikan tsumiki#enomiki#junko x mikan#junkomikan#enoshima junko#tsumiki mikan#shipping#mastermind au#au#monokuma
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Please Stay - Modern!Aegon Targaryen x Fiancé! Reader
At just 24 years old, you are celebrated as the best surgeon in your city and the youngest ever to hold the title. Itâs a reputation youâve earned through sheer determination and exceptional skill. Starting your residency only a year and a half ago, you quickly distinguished yourself as one of the brightest and most talented young doctors the hospital had ever seen. Your rapid ascent to becoming a professional surgeon was nothing short of remarkable, breaking records and earning the respect of both your mentors and peers.
One evening, as you prep for a complex case, a senior surgeon approaches, a mix of pride and curiosity in his expression.
âI still canât believe youâre only 24,â he says with a chuckle. âWhen I was your age, I was still fumbling through my first surgical rotation.â
You smile modestly, glancing at the patientâs chart in your hand. âWell, I had a lot of great teachers,â you reply. âAnd⊠maybe I donât like fumbling.â
He laughs, patting your shoulder. âHumility suits you, but donât sell yourself short. Youâve got talent, and everyone here knows it. Just donât burn out. Youâve got a long career ahead of you.â
You nod, appreciating the advice but already feeling the weight of expectations. âIâll try, but itâs hard to slow down when thereâs so much to learnâand so many lives depending on us.â
He pauses, studying you thoughtfully. âYouâre right, but remember: youâre not alone. The pressure is real, but so is the support. Donât forget that."
As he walks away, you take a deep breath, looking toward the operating room. The hum of the hospital surrounds you, and though the road has been tough, you know this is exactly where youâre meant to be. Every challenge, every late night, every life savedâitâs all part of a journey youâre proud to call your own..
You glance nervously at your phone, your fingers tapping lightly on the edge of your desk. Youâre waiting for a message from your fiancĂ©. He promised to come and meet you tonight to celebrate your anniversary, but so far, thereâs no text or call. Your mind races with thoughtsâwhat if he forgot? What if heâs stuck at work? You shake your head, trying to stay focused, but the waiting feels unbearable.
In the bustling hospital lounge, your colleagues notice your unusual behavior.
âHey, Dr. Prodigy, whatâs up with you?â one of the residents teases, leaning casually against the counter.
âYou look like youâre about to scrub in for a life-or-death surgery!â another doctor adds with a laugh.
âCome on, give her a break,â says a nurse, smirking. âShe's clearly waiting for a very important text.â
You sigh, trying to play it cool, but your reddening cheeks betray you. âItâs nothing,â you mumble, glancing at your phone again.
âOh, itâs definitely not nothing,â the first resident chimes in. âWhat is it? A date? Anniversary? Wedding planning?â
You hesitate, then finally admit, âItâs our anniversary. My fiancĂ© said heâd meet me after my shift, but⊠heâs late.â
Thereâs a moment of silence before the group erupts into exaggerated gasps and laughter.
âWell, that explains it!â one of the doctors jokes. âNo wonder youâve been pacing like a nervous intern before their first surgery!â
âDonât worry,â another adds with a grin. âHeâs probably planning something special. Youâll be fine, Dr. Genius.â
Despite their teasing, you canât help but smile. Their laughter reminds you of the camaraderie that makes the long hours and stressful days bearable. You glance at your phone one more timeâand just then, it buzzes with a message.
âOn my way. Canât wait to see you. Happy anniversary, love.â
Your heart skips a beat, and you tuck your phone away, a small smile on your lips. âAlright, everyone, back to work. Iâve got a shift to finish before my celebration begins!â You walk away, feeling a mix of relief and excitement, ready to face whatever the evening holds.
You continue the rest of your shift in high spirits, the anticipation of seeing your fiancĂ© carrying you through the usual chaos of the hospital. As you check on your last patient, a subtle vibration from your pager grabs your attention. Glancing down, your heart sinks for a moment. The screen flashes the emergency code: â911.â Without hesitation, you shove the pager back into your pocket and start running toward the ER, your earlier excitement replaced by the sharp focus that comes with urgency.
The ER is already alive with activity when you burst through the doors. Nurses and doctors are moving swiftly, their faces tense. You spot Dr. Harris, the attending physician, waving you over.
âGlad youâre here!â he calls out. âWeâve got a trauma case incomingâmultiple injuries from a car accident. ETA is two minutes.â
You nod, quickly pulling on gloves. âWhat do we know so far?â
âThree victims,â he replies. âOne criticalâpossible internal bleeding. This oneâs yours.â
Your heart pounds, but you keep your voice steady. âAlright. Prep the OR and alert radiology. Weâll need imaging as soon as they arrive.â
As you finish speaking, the sound of ambulance sirens pierces the air. The doors swing open, and paramedics rush in with the first stretcher.
âMale, mid-30s, unresponsive. BPâs dropping fast!â a paramedic shouts.
You step forward, assessing the patient quickly. âLetâs move him to Bay 3. Iâll take it from here.â
The room fades away as you focus entirely on stabilizing the patient. Every movement is precise, every instruction clear. This is where you thriveâunder pressure, in the heat of the moment, saving lives.
As you work, a voice in the back of your mind whispers about your fiancĂ©, about your anniversary, but you push it aside. Right now, thereâs only the patient in front of you. The celebration can waitâsomeoneâs life cannot.
As you focus on stabilizing your patient, you catch a glimpse of another stretcher being wheeled into the ER. For a split second, your breath hitchesâitâs as if you see your fiancĂ© lying there, pale and motionless. Your heart skips, but you shake the thought away. This isnât the time to lose focus.
âStay with me,â you whisper to your patient, tightening your grip on his wrist as you check his pulse.
âDoctor!â a nurse calls out, her voice urgent. âHis blood pressure is dropping fastâ60 over 40!â
âDamn it,â you mutter under your breath, your mind racing. âWeâre losing him. Prep for transport to the OR immediately!â
The nurse nods, rushing to comply as you continue working, pushing every thought of the other stretcher from your mind. You glance at the monitorâhis heart rate is erratic, and his oxygen levels are plummeting.
âWeâre out of time,â you say firmly. âGet anesthesia and notify the OR team. He needs surgery now, or weâll lose him.â
Two orderlies arrive with the portable monitor and start unhooking him from the trauma bed. As you help guide the stretcher toward the elevator, the fleeting image of the other patient flashes in your mind again. Was it really him? You shake your head, forcing the thought aside.
âFocus,â you mutter to yourself. âHe needs you right now.â
As you step into the elevator with your patient, the weight of uncertainty presses on you. You tell yourself youâll check the ER again once this surgery is doneâbut deep down, a knot of fear has already formed in your chest.
Inside the operating room, you struggle to focus as your hands move with practiced precision. The patientâs vitals continue to drop, and while you should be entirely absorbed in the procedure, your mind keeps wandering back to the glimpse of the stretcher in the ER. Was it really him? Could it be? You push the thought away, but it keeps clawing its way back.
âDoctor, the patientâs blood pressure is still falling,â the anesthesiologist says, his tone tense.
âI see it,â you reply, trying to mask the tremor in your voice. âSuction, now. I need a clearer view.â
As you continue, something doesnât add up. The internal bleeding isnât where you anticipated. Your frustration grows alongside your racing thoughts. The faces of your fiancĂ© and the patient in front of you blur together in your mind, and you clench your jaw, forcing yourself to stay present.
âDamn it,â you mutter under your breath, pausing for a brief moment. âWeâre missing something. Extend the incision. I need a better look.â
A nurse hesitates. âDoctor, are you sure?â
You nod firmly, steadying your hands. âYes. Thereâs something weâre not seeing. Prepare the cauterizer and suction.â
As the area of the incision widens, your suspicion is confirmedâa hidden arterial tear, steadily leaking blood. You suppress a wave of relief and focus entirely on the repair.
âClamp here,â you instruct, your voice now steady. âAnd suture ready. Weâve got this.â
The tension in the room eases as the bleeding slows. The patientâs vitals begin to stabilize, and for the first time since the operation began, you exhale.
âGood work, everyone,â you say, stepping back slightly as the team begins cleanup. But as you glance up at the clock, your mind drifts back to the ER. The knot in your stomach tightens. As soon as this is over, you know exactly where you need to go.
After scrubbing out and cleaning yourself up, you waste no time heading back to the ER. The patient you just operated on is stable, but the knot in your chest refuses to ease. As you hurry down the corridor, a colleague runs toward you, her expression stricken.
âDoctor!â she calls out, slightly out of breath. âItâs your fiancĂ©âheâs in Trauma Two. Critical condition.â
Her words hit you like a freight train. Your heart drops, and for a moment, the world around you blurs. âWhat?â you whisper, your voice barely audible.
âThere was a car accident,â she continues quickly. âHe was one of the victims. Heâs intubated and in bad shape.â
Without waiting for more, you break into a sprint, the hallway stretching endlessly ahead of you. You burst through the ER doors, ignoring the chaos around you, and make a beeline for Trauma Two.
There he is. Lying on the bed, pale and motionless, with tubes and wires attached to his body. The ventilator hisses softly, each sound a cruel reminder of his fragility. Your knees almost buckle, but you force yourself to stay upright.
A nurse glances at you and steps aside, giving you space. âWeâve stabilized him for now,â she says gently, âbut his injuries are severe. Internal bleeding, possible head trauma. We need to move him to the OR soon.â
You swallow hard, your voice breaking. âIâIâll take over. Prep the OR. Iâll do it myself.â
Another doctor steps forward, placing a hand on your shoulder. âYou canât, not like this. Youâre too close.â
You shake your head fiercely, tears stinging your eyes. âHeâs my fiancĂ©. I have to do this. Iâm not letting anyone else touch him.â
For a moment, thereâs silence, and then the team nods in understanding. The nurse squeezes your arm gently. âWeâll support you. Letâs save him.â
You take a shaky breath, wiping your tears away. Youâve saved countless lives before, but this time, itâs personal. You step closer to the bed, gripping his hand tightly for a brief moment before steeling yourself.
âIâve got you,â you whisper to him, your voice trembling. âI wonât let you go.â Then, with a newfound determination, you start issuing orders. Thereâs no room for hesitation nowâhis life depends on you.
As you prepare to scrub in for the surgery, your focus razor-sharp despite the emotional weight pressing down on you, the door swings open, and chief steps in. His face is stern, and his tone leaves no room for argument.
âYouâre not scrubbing in,â he says firmly. âYouâre too emotionally involved with this case.â
You freeze, disbelief washing over you. âChief, with all due respect, Iâm the most qualified surgeon available for this operation. No one knows his medical history better than I do.â
âThatâs exactly why youâre not doing it,â he replies, crossing his arms. âThis is a critical surgery, and your emotions will cloud your judgment. I canât allow that.â
Your voice rises, desperation creeping in. âCloud my judgment? I just performed a high-stakes surgery an hour ago, and I was fine! I need to be in that room. Heâs my fiancĂ©!â
âAnd thatâs why you canât,â the chief cuts you off, his expression softening slightly. âI understand how hard this is for you, but the best thing you can do for him right now is to trust your colleagues. Let us do our job.â
You clench your fists, your frustration boiling over. âIâm begging you, please. Donât shut me out of this.â
But his decision is final. âYouâre out. Thatâs an order.â
With no choice but to comply, you storm out of the prep room, your chest heaving with anger and helplessness. Instead of leaving entirely, you make your way to the observation gallery above the operating room.
From the gallery, you watch as your colleagues begin the surgery. Your heart pounds with every movement they make, your hands instinctively mimicking the motions as though youâre the one holding the scalpel. You mutter under your breath, second-guessing their decisions and silently willing them to hurry.
âCome on,â you whisper, your nails digging into your palms. âDonât make any mistakes. Please, save him.â
Every second feels like an eternity as you sit there, powerless to do anything but hope and pray that the team below can succeed where you canât.
From the gallery, your eyes are glued to the monitors and the movements of the surgical team below. Every beep of the heart monitor sends a jolt through your chest. Your fingers clench around your phone, the screen still showing your last call with his family. Theyâre on their way now, but it feels like time is crawling.
You whisper to yourself, almost as if he can hear you. âHold on⊠just hold on a little longer. Theyâre coming.â
Below, the lead surgeon suddenly calls out, âBPâs droppingâheart rate unstable! Suction here, now!â
Panic grips you as you lean forward, pressing your hands against the glass. âNo, no, no,â you mutter, your voice trembling. âDo something. Fix it!â
A nurse below glances up at the gallery, her concerned eyes meeting yours for a fleeting second before she refocuses on the patient. You feel utterly helpless, the familiar rhythm of surgery playing out in front of you while youâre forced to stand on the sidelines.
Your phone vibrates in your handâa message from his mother: Weâre almost there. How is he?
You stare at the screen, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. What do you even say? That youâre watching his life slip through the cracks, unable to do anything? That youâre terrified he might not make it?
As his vitals dip further, tears sting your eyes. You whisper shakily, âCome on, fight. Please. Donât leave me.â
For the first time in your career, youâre paralyzedânot by lack of skill, but by the weight of love and fear. The ache of not being able to save him yourself cuts deeper than any failure youâve ever known.
tag list - @danytar @looneytun3s @hangmanscoming @yazzzmints @julessworldd @eratosmusings (italic means that i canât tag you)
#aegon ii targaryen#hotd imagine#hotd#prince aegon targaryen#aemond targaryen#hotd aemond#hotd one shot#aegon ii fanfic#aemond fanfiction#hotd alicent#aegon headcanons#modern aegon#aemond fic#alicent hightower#hotd rhaenyra#hotd daemon#hotd fanfic#hotd x reader
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