#Soft lock au

[marie098887]

Early airport morings. ✈️

Going to the airport with your boyfriend.

Part 1: Isagi, Chigiri, Rin, Bachira, Kunigami, Reo, Nagi

📝 Requests: OPEN

After months of talking about it, canceling plans, and pretending you’d “definitely do it next break,” you and your boyfriend finally found the time. No matches. No press. No chaos. Just a trip, something small, something together. It’s early in the morning. The sky’s still dark. You’re both running on no sleep, dragging your bags and trying to act like this isn’t the most exciting thing you’ve done in weeks. Sleepy faces, overpriced airport food, and that quiet buzz of we’re actually doing this. The trip hasn’t even started yet, but it already feels like a good memory.

💙 Isagi Yoichi

Isagi shows up exactly when he said he would.

4:57 a.m. on the dot. Hoodie on. Backpack slung over one shoulder. Hair messy in a way that somehow still looks good.

He doesn’t knock, just sends a soft little “I’m outside”

You’re barely awake when you slide into the car, still zipping your bag and rubbing sleep out of your eyes. He just laughs under his breath and takes your bag without saying anything.

The drive to the airport is quiet. Music low. His playlist, soft and slow. Your hand resting next to his on the seat, almost touching.

He points out how empty the roads are. You mumble something back. You’re both too tired to talk much, but you don’t need to. It’s not awkward. Just warm. Familiar.

When you get there, he grabs both bags like it’s nothing.

“Terminal B,” he says, already scanning the signs like he’s been here a hundred times.

You two checked in your bags and headed down to security. He bumps your arm gently with his and holds out a coffee he grabbed without asking. It’s exactly how you take it.

At the gate, you both sit down. He leans his head back against the wall, eyes half-shut.

You look over at him. Sleepy, quiet, content.

He catches you staring.

“What?” he mumbles.

“Nothing,” you say. “Just… happy.”

He smiles, reaching forward and gently taking your hand, that soft, crooked smile he doesn’t do for cameras

“Yeah,” he says, eyes closing again. “Me too.”

Then he pushes himself up with a soft groan, glancing at the screen.

“C’mon,” he murmurs, grabbing both your bags. “They’re boarding.”

You both get in line. Still quiet. Still close.

And even with your eyes half-shut and your body running on no sleep, you can’t stop smiling.

Yeah. This already feels like a good memory.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🌺 Chigiri Hyoma

He’s waiting outside your place when you come down.

Leaning against the car. Headphones around his neck. Hoodie layered under a long coat. Hair pulled back in a loose tie. And somehow, even at 5 a.m., he looks like he belongs on a magazine cover.

You blink at him through the morning haze.

“You’re really not tired?” you ask, dragging your suitcase behind you.

He shrugs, takes your bag without a word.

“I’m used to early mornings,” he says, voice soft. “And I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

you know that excitement where you can't sleep? Yeah, he won't admit it but that's what it was.

The car ride is quiet. He scrolls through his phone with one hand, the other resting between you. You don’t say much. Neither does he. But every few minutes, he glances your way like he’s making sure you’re still real.

At the airport, he moves like he knows what he’s doing, checking the gate, guiding you through security, keeping close but not hovering.

You catch your reflection in a glass wall and laugh.

“What?” he asks.

“I look like I just rolled out of bed.”

“You did,” he says, smiling a little. “Still cute, though.”

That shuts you up real fast.

He finds your gate and sits next to you, legs stretched out, coat bundled under his arm like a pillow.

You both sip on drinks you didn’t need and snacks you overpaid for, watching people walk past.

“This is nice,” you say.

He hums in agreement, closing his eyes.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “And it’s only just starting.”

A few minutes later, he stands, brushing his hair back from his face.

“They’re calling our group.”

You get in line together, shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand.

And even through the exhaustion, it’s easy to feel wide awake.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🐠 Rin Itoshi

He shows up early. Of course he does.

Doesn’t text. Just rings the doorbell once and waits by the car, hands in his coat pockets, expression unreadable under his bangs.

You open the door with a yawn and messy hair. He looks at you for half a second, then says, “You’re late.”

You’re not. He’s just early. You don’t argue, you know how he is.

You get in the car and he pulls off without a word. The silence is easy. Comfortable. Just the hum of the engine and the occasional glance he throws your way when he thinks you’re not looking.

He keeps checking the time, even though you’re not running behind.

At the airport, he handles everything without asking. Checks your flight. Carries your bag. Pulls you gently out of the way when someone rushes past in the terminal.

You don’t say anything. Neither does he.

But when he comes back from the café and hands you a drink — exactly how you like it, with your favorite snack, you look at him.

“Thanks.”

He shrugs like it’s nothing. “Figured you didn’t eat.”

You sit by the gate. He leans his head back and closes his eyes, jaw clenched, arms folded.

You’re about to say something, tease him, maybe, but he speaks first.

“This is good,” he mumbles. Eyes still closed.

You blink. “What is?”

“This,” he says, quieter this time. “Us. Going somewhere. Together.”

Your chest goes warm.

“They’re boarding now,” he adds, already standing. Already reaching for your carry on bag.

You both get in line. Shoulder to shoulder. Quiet.

And it hits you.

For someone who never shows much, he’s making this feel like everything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🐝 Bachira Meguru

You’re barely awake when you open the door. Hoodie on, bag half-zipped, one shoe untied.

And there he is, sleepy, grinning, at you like the sun’s already up.

“Goooood morning, sleepyhead!” he whispers like it’s a secret mission.

You squint at him. “Why are you so awake?”

“I didn’t sleep!” he chirps, dragging your suitcase toward the car. “Too excited!”

The ride to the airport is filled with soft music and random questions.

“What snack are you getting at the airport? What’s your plane movie? Can I sit by the window?”

You mumble your answers, not annoyed just tired, head leaning against the window, but every time you look over, he’s watching the road with a little smile on his face. Like this, just being here with you, is already the highlight of the trip.

At the terminal, he grabs your hand without thinking. Pulls you through the crowd like he knows exactly where to go.

You both end up at the wrong gate once. He laughs. You glare. He buys you a muffin to make up for it.

“I’m gonna draw our airport outfits later,” he says while you wait in line for boarding. “You looked cute with bed hair.”

You smack his arm. He giggles like it didn’t hurt at all.

When they call your group, he grabs his bag and nudges you gently.

“You ready?” he says, eyes bright, voice quiet now.

You nod. Still sleepy. Still smiling.

“Let’s go make memories.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🧡 Kunigami Rensuke

He’s texting you five minutes before your alarm goes off.

“i’m outside. no rush.”

You look out your window and see him leaning against the car, arms crossed, duffel slung over his shoulder like it weighs nothing. Still yawning, but standing tall.

You come out with your bag dragging and your hoodie halfway on.

“You didn’t have to come this early,” you mumble, rubbing your eyes.

“I wanted to,” he says, grabbing your bag before you can argue. “Did you sleep at all?”

“Barely.”

He smiles like he expected that.

The drive is peaceful. You’re dozing in the passenger seat. He’s got one hand on the wheel, the other holding his coffee. The playlist is soft. Old songs you both forgot were favorites.

At the airport, he’s the one checking the gate. The boarding time. Your IDs. Everything. He doesn’t ask, he just does.

You catch him watching you while you sip your drink at the gate. Just quietly. Like he can’t believe you’re actually here with him.

“What?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “Nothing. You just look... happy.”

“I am.”

He nods once, slow. “Me too.”

They call your group, and he stands, taking both bags like it’s nothing.

You follow him into line, shoulder brushing his.

And even though you’re half, asleep and running on fumes, it feels right.

Like this was long overdue.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

💜 Mikage Reo

Reo is annoyingly put together for 5 a.m.

Hair brushed. his outfit coordinated. Bag already in the trunk. He’s standing by the car with your favorite drink in hand and the calmest smile on his face like he didn’t just wake up at four in the morning.

“You’re late,” he teases, but he says it gently, the kind of voice that sounds like he’s been waiting on you forever and didn’t mind one bit.

You slide into the car, hoodie pulled up, eyes barely open. He hands you the drink without a word.

He drives with one hand, humming along to the playlist he made for the trip.

“You excited?” he asks, voice low.

You nod, and he smiles like that answer was enough.

At the airport, he moves with purpose. Checks in early. Has your boarding passes printed and digital. Holds your passport in one hand and your suitcase in the other. You’re just there to vibe.

You point it out while standing in line for security.

“You act like we do this every weekend.”

He shrugs. “We should.”

You laugh, leaning into his arm. “You love this.”

“I love you,” he says, casually, like it’s not a big deal.

You go quiet.

He glances over and smirks. “Don’t get shy on me now.”

At the gate, he pulls you close, lets you lean on him while you scroll through your phone. They call your group. He stands and grabs your bag without asking.

“Let’s go make some memories, yeah?”

And just like that, you’re boarding.

(Yes y'all got first class)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🤍 Nagi Seishiro

He didn’t want to wake up.

You had to call him twice, and even then he answered like he was still dreaming. By the time he picks you up, his hoodie’s barely on straight, hair a mess, and eyes half closed.

But he’s here. And the moment he sees you, he smiles, lazy and soft, like this is the only reason he got out of bed.

You slide into the passenger seat, and he immediately leans over, resting his head on your shoulder.

“Five more minutes,” he mumbles. “Drive yourself.”

“You’re already parked, idiot.”

He grins without opening his eyes. “Exactly.”

The airport is a blur. You lead the way. He follows. Quiet, dragging his suitcase with one hand and holding your sleeve with the other like he’s afraid he’ll float away if he lets go.

You stop for food. He rests his head on your shoulder in line. Barely speaks. Just leans on you like he’s charging.

At the gate, you sit. He lays his head in your lap. Looks up at you with tired eyes and zero shame.

“You excited?” you ask.

He hums. “Tired.”

“You can sleep on the plane.”

“Gonna sleep now.”

And just like that, he knocks out. Soft breaths, one hand loosely gripping yours.

They call your group, and he groans when you shake him awake.

“Already?” he whispers, voice raspy.

“Already.”

He gets up slow. Grabs both your bags without a word.

You get in line together, still yawning, still close.

And even though he’s barely awake, he smiles at you again.

“Glad we’re doing this.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well here is part 1! I am thinking about adding more to this like being on vacation with them. We will see how I feel after I finish part 2 and 3 hehe

[lovesickeros]

now that natlan is out it's tsaritsa yearning hours again because i am one nation closer to either being horribly disappointed or foaming at the mouth!

creator!reader w a little side of conflicted tsaritsa is such good food I can't not yap about it. a woman who has dedicated so much of her life to severing herself from "love" of all kinds and succeeding and. just being so confident that when she meets you she's bitter and angry and mean. because she can't stand you. she isn't supposed to love yet you worm your way into her heart anyway and you don't even know it.

especially in smth like an imposter au. she tells herself your just a tool for her to use but your treated like the Divine you really are, pampered and spoiled every step. tells herself it means nothing when she indulges you – let's you hold her hand in private, eventually let's you move aside the veil, just a little.

and she hates it. hates how easy it is to let you break down the ice she's built up for years.

all you do is smile and she feels like she can't breathe. because despite how violently she rejects love in all aspects, it always bleeds through eventually. she despises it but the way you brush your thumbs over her cheeks makes her bitter and warm and it infuriates her to no end.

she hates you and she loves you and she can't stand you and if you were ever taken from her she'd destroy every inch of teyvat if she had to go get you back.

and ironically enough I think she'd also be the one to initiate any first kiss. maybe she's still trying to convince herself it's just a fluke and itll make her realize it meant nothing, it means nothing. desperate to fix whatever you've done to her and instead it just makes it worse.

a horrible mess of a woman who gave up on love just to be confronted with it when she finally accepted it's absence.

[the-weeb-of-the-uchiha]

You had just transferred to a new school, and everything felt different. Back at your old all-girls academy, you could get away with wearing cute outfits without anyone batting an eye. Being a total Sanrio girl didn’t hurt either. Today, you kept it simple but still true to yourself—pastel pink and white, topped off with your favorite Cinnamoroll hat with floppy ears.

When you walked into your advisory class, you immediately felt the stares. You did your best to ignore them and slid into an empty seat next to a guy with bright pink hair.

Pulling out your schedule, you stared at it like it was written in another language. None of the room numbers made sense. With a small sigh, you decided to ask for help and lightly tapped the guy’s shoulder.

“Excuse me? Do you know where 411C is?”

He turned to look at you, and for a second, you froze. He was wearing a My Melody jacket. No way. It felt like fate.

“I like your hat,” he said with a soft smile, reaching out to gently touch one of the floppy ears.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, feeling your face heat up.

“I like your jacket,” you added quickly, trying to return the compliment. “My Melody’s adorable.”

His smile widened. “Cinnamoroll, huh? You’ve got good taste. Are you new here?”

You nodded. “Yeah, just transferred. Honestly, I have no idea where any of these rooms are.” You held up your schedule helplessly.

He leaned over, glancing at the paper. “411C? Oh, that’s in the arts wing. I’ve got a class near there—I can show you after this if you want.”

Your shoulders relaxed. “That’d be awesome, thanks!”

“No problem,” he said, brushing some of his pink hair out of his face. “I’m Hyoma Chigiri, by the way. What’s your name?”

“Y/n,” you said, giving him a small smile.

“Y/n,” he repeated, testing it out. “Cute name. Kinda suits you.”

Before you could think of a response, the teacher walked in and started class. Chigiri leaned back in his seat, giving you a quick wink before turning to face the front.

The rest of the class dragged on, but you couldn’t focus. You kept sneaking glances at Chigiri—his laid-back vibe, that bright pink hair, the way he made you feel way less out of place in this new school.

When the bell finally rang, Chigiri grabbed his Hello kitty bag and turned to you. “Ready to go?”

You nodded, quickly stuffing your stuff into your bag.

As you walked down the hall together, he pointed things out along the way. “That’s the cafeteria. They’ve got some decent food, but the cupcakes are where it’s at if you’re into cute stuff. Oh, and there’s the library. Pretty quiet most of the time, but they’ve got a solid manga collection.”

“Seriously?” you asked, perking up.

“Yup. I can show you sometime if you’re into that.”

Before you knew it, you were standing outside the door to 411C.

“And here it is,” Chigiri said, throwing his arms out dramatically. “Welcome to your first class in the labyrinth that is this school.”

You laughed. “Thanks, Chigiri. You really saved me.”

“No big deal,” he said with a grin. “See you around, Y/n.”

As he walked away, you couldn’t stop smiling. Maybe this new school wouldn’t be so bad after all.

[baconcolacan]

POLL TIME AGAIN!! Next big project will be another inbox event. Still Stay AU Future related (bc im obsessing over building the story) so keep that in mind. Now here’s the question:

[rielzero]

Tried Making Nymrod in bg3 with mods..

[abbatoirablaze]

Locked Up, Chapter 2

Word Count:  2.7k

Warnings: noncon, manipulation, dangerous situations, mention of bodily harm, oral (f receiving), mention of being stabbed, threats.

You cut your appointments after that.  When you had come stumbling out of the room, you were grateful that neither of the guards had been waiting directly outside.  It gave you time to collect yourself and get your bearings. 

They walked around the corner a few minutes later, talking about the latest game that had happened. 

“Done already doc?”

“Bet he scared the shit out of her!” The first one chuckled, “that inmate is an animal…they all are.  Y-“

“He’s been silent,” you lied, shaking your head, “di-did Reyes ever get him to speak?  I notice he never had many notes about him.”

“Never said much,” Connors admitted to you, clearly oblivious to your state of anxiousness, “Want us to take him back and grab the next one?”

“You can take him,” you said simply, “I-I think I’m going to get some lunch myself though…pushed it back after Drysdale, because the warden asked me to meet with him during my original lunch break…”

“Yeah, you watch out for him!” Connors chuckled, “he’ll talk your ear off if you let him.”

“I barely made it back in time for you to bring me, Everett!” you laughed awkwardly, hoping that your own high emotions would fade by the time they checked on the inmate in your office, “anyways…I think I’ll finish up the notes on him and study up on the others I was supposed to meet with today…I-I’ll throw them on the books for tomorrow.”

“You think Everett was bad, wait til you meet up with Barnes…” the first one scoffed, “that guy is really fucked up.”

You felt yourself paling, “W-what?”

“Don’t worry doc, you’ll see…him and Rogers…you were supposed to meet with them two next, right?”

“Y-yeah…”

“Don’t go scaring the doc,” Connors chuckled, nudging his partner, “Come on Adam, let’s get Everett back to the block before meds go out.  Last thing we need is him fully coherent…”

“Meds?” you asked, confused over what he was saying, “I-I didn’t see any notes that any of them were on meds.  Let alo-“

“Warden’s been doing it for years…gives em all a pill at the end of the night to make it easier on us,” the first guard chuckled, “we tell em all they’re vitamins, but…some of those psychos really need it.”

You felt horror in the pit of your stomach, “wh-what if one of them were allergic?  You should neve-“

“Doc…it’s fine…you do your job, and we’ll do ours,” the first guard scoffed, rolling his eyes at you.  He gently backhanded his partner’s chest, “come on, kid.  Let’s get Everett back to the block, yeah?”

“Well, well, well…aren’t you a pretty, young thing!”

Your head snapped up as the guards led your first patient of the day in. 

“Mr. Rogers.”

“Steve, sweetheart,” he smiled sweetly, “Mr. Rogers was my father…”

“Good, god.”

Steve shot a glare over his shoulder to Adam, and you bit back a giggle.

“Don’t you two have anything better to do?”

“Doc?” Connors asked, giving you a look as Steve sat down on the chair, “want us to stay in here?”

You took a moment to try to get a read on the seemingly charming man.  You had read his profile, just like the others you were supposed to meet with today over and over.  But the man in front of you didn’t seem like the man that had been described in the folder. 

“Is it necessary, doc?”

You looked to the two guards once more, letting your guard down.  You shrugged, “I guess it’s not necessary…you two can wait outside if you want…or grab a coffee.”

“Whatever you say, doc!” Connors smiled. 

Adam followed him after, and you heard the condescension in his voice as you were ‘letting your pussy do the judging’.  Steve shook his head.  When the door closed, he reached out and touched the desk, a sincere look in his eyes, “I’m sorry he spoke about you like that.  That guy’s the worst.”

“Tell me about it!” you laughed, already feeling comfortable around him.  He gave you a soft smile before pulling away from the desk and crossing his hands in his lap. That was when you noticed they hadn’t locked his chains to the bolt in the floor, securing him to the singular spot. 

His eyes followed yours, and he shrugged, “would you feel safer if I was bolted?  I’m sure they’re not too far.  You could call them back.”

Not wanting to kill the trust in the room, you shook your head, eyes falling away from it, “no-no…it-it’s fine.  I don’t want to-“

“I don’t mind….” He sighed, “I’m used to people seeing me as an animal.  Especially in here.”

“Why do you think people see you as an animal, Mr. Rogers?”

“You’re joking, right?” he chuckled, the puff of air making it seemed as though he scoffed at your question, “I’m sure you’ve read my file.  You seem like a smart girl.  A girl who does your homework on her patients…”

“I-I looked at your file.”

“They say I’m a psychopath…” he said slowly, his cerulean eyes shifting up towards yours once more, “they say I’m a danger to those around me…I’m sure you’ve heard rumors.”

The air in the room shifted, and suddenly, Steve didn’t seem so comforting.  You felt your throat dry up as you thought about what was said yesterday, “I-I have…”

“What did they tell you about me, little bunny?” he asked firmly. 

You felt a tightness in your chest. 

It was like you were compelled to answer him, “t-that you cut off your business partners arm when he was about to take a deal in your trial…”

His eyes held yours.  And for a moment, you lost your breath.  You took a shaky breath in, and it was like he was watching you so intently, waiting for you to run so that he could pounce on you, “And what do you think about that?”

“Wh-why would anyone cut someone’s arm off?”

He only smirked, making you feel like you’d made the wrong decision in letting the guards go for a little while, “Because bunny, Buck signed the deal with his left hand.”

“I-Is now a bad time?”

You looked up from your desk, surprised to see one of your patients standing there, sans a guard.  Surprise laced your features, “J-Jake…what are you doing here without a-“

But you stopped your words when you noticed the IT cart that he’d had with him, “guards usually secure me on a floor then do whatever while I update the firewalls and fix any issues that they have IT wise.”

You gave him a sad smile, “did you need something?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “you just-you looked upset…I heard Officer Connors and Magda talking about you earlier…you seemed like you were shaken up after you met with Rogers…a-at least that’s what they said.  I mean you cou-“

“I was…”

This time it was him that gave you a sad smile, “I-I’m sorry…some of the guys in here…they-it’s a really hard place to navigate.  I mean, I can’t even imagine how difficult it must be for you, and for the other women that work here.  I-“

“Jake…stop.”

His cheeks turned rosy, and he bit his lip, looking away from you, “I-I’m sorry, doc.”

“Don’t be…you’re just being honest…” you sighed, feeling bad about the small bout of reject he was no doubt laced with when you told him to stop speaking, “I know that it’s difficult in my position…and I know that the inmates treat me…differently than if I were a man.”

“Well…i-if you need to talk…”

You giggled and Jake nervously ran his hand over the back of his neck.  He turned, reaching for his cart once more so that he could leave, “I’m sorry, I-“

“Don’t leave…”

Jake turned, surprised at hearing you call out for him, “What?”

“Di-did you want to…come in?” you asked nervously, “I really could use someone to speak with if you were being serious.”

Your lips parted, a whimper escaping the back of your throat as your nails gripped at the edge of the desk to stop from gripping onto the blonde tipped hair of the man under the desk.

“Just needed to relax was all,” Jake purred as he nipped at your inner thigh.  You moaned as his fingers dipped into your soaked core once more, and he leaned forward, his nose bumping softly against your clit.   He was nearly breathless from having spent the past twenty minutes between your thighs.  His lips ghosted over your clit, and you shuddered, “god, it’s been so long…fuck, I needed this, doc!  Ever since she stopped letting me…I-I need this…I-I need you, doc.”

Your door opened and your hands slipped down to his face.  Your eyes met with the two guards, Connors and Magda.

“You seen inmate Jensen?”

“J-Jensen?” you asked breathlessly.  Jake’s tongue lathed over your clit, and you shuddered, “J-Jensen.  Oh…uh…uhmmm…”

“You okay, doc?” Connors asked, brow raised, “look a little shiny…”

“Heat!” you gasped quickly while he sucked your clit back into his mouth.  You gasped and immediately started fanning yourself with one of the folders on your desk, while your other hand tugged on Jake’s hair, “s-so-so hot!”

The words were breathy, and you released a moan, but both of the men seemed disinterested in you, figuring you weren’t used to the summer heat in the prison, “You seen Jensen, or what?  His cart is right here outside your door?”

“Hmmmm!” you hummed, not wanting to give your indiscretions away.  Your head looked to the bathroom that was attached to your office, “he-he’s there.  Busy…”

The two men chuckled, not thinking anything of it, “well...you let him know that Jay over in medical wants his software done when he’s…finished.  Guess the guy didn’t finish when Lila was in last month.”

“Mhmmm!” you whimpered, nodding along, while trying to keep your composure.  The two guards chuckled, closing the door behind them, and you weren’t sure what exactly they were laughing at.  You looked back down at Jake who was happily in his own world, lapping at your cunt, “Ja-Jake…stop.  Sto-stop…oh, god…”

He smiled, pushing himself away from your core, only to nip at your thighs once more.  His hands, which had been tucked under your legs, and wrapped around your waist to hold you still slid back down to your thighs and he began massaging the flesh, while his stubble grazed over your tender skin. 

He licked his plump lips and gave you a sinful smile, “feel better, doc?”

“Y-yes…” you nodded breathlessly.  He unwrapped his arms from you, and you pushed yourself out of the chair, but when you attempted to stand, he held you in it.

“Don’t go getting up quick or nothing,” he said with a blush rising to his cheeks.  He wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt and you blushed, seeing the darkness from your own slick now on his uniform, “had ourselves a hell of a time…”

“Th-that can never happen again, Mr. Jensen…”

Jake’s blush got deeper, and he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, but reached onto your desk with the other, slipping his glasses back on, “w-was I that bad?”

“No…god no…you know that…that’s not-that’s not what I meant,” you tried to explain, “but you-you’re a patient Jake…a patient who has emophilia…y-you form these bonds with everyone you meet of the opposite sex an-“

“I know!  D-Doctor Ellis told me about it when she told me to stop,” he said quickly, cutting you off.  He dropped back to his knees in front of you, his hands splaying over your thighs, “doc…I-I know that I-I know what I am…but I-I jus wanted you to feel better…I-“

“You’re a patient, Jake,” you replied firmly, “a patient and an inmate…I crossed so many lines by-“

But you were cut off when Jake’s lips met yours.  You gasped against his lips, and his tongue invaded your mouth. 

You were quick to push him away, “Jake…”

“I-I just want you to feel okay, doc…” Jake said sadly, “d-don’t transfer me to the other doc…d-don’t throw me away like everyone else…don-don’t do what Lila did to me…please…”

Your heart sunk in your chest, “Jake…I-I wouldn’t throw you away.  Th-that’s not what this is.  I just-I was feeling overwhelmed…and we-wait…Lila…as in Doctor Lila Ellis who helps run medical with Jay?“

Jake nodded, “sh-she was my girlfriend…and Ari is our boyfriend.  An-“

“Jake-“  

“I ate you out!” he said firmly.  You bit your lip, nodding along.

“Yeah…”

“D-do you feel better?”

“Honestly?” you asked sadly.  Jake frowned and nodded, “I just feel worse…I used you Jake…an-and that’s not okay!”

“But I don’t mind…”

“But I do,” you said quickly, sadly, “I-I’m sorry Jake…but I think I’m going to transfer your care to the other doc.  I-I don’t think what we did was okay…”

Your heart ached as you stared at the man in the medical ward’s bed.  You looked over to your colleague, guilt weighing heavily in your stomach, “I-is he…okay?”

Sanjay gave you a sympathetic look, “it was nothing that you did…unfortunately, it happens all the time.  He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

You bit your lip as you looked at the sleeping inmate.

It had been two days since you last saw Jake Jensen.  After he left your office, you started the paperwork of transferring his care to the other prison shrink.  Unfortunately for you, since she was taking one of yours, you had to take one of hers. 

But you hadn’t heard anything about Jake in those two days. 

Not until you happened to get out of your session with Sam Wilson when you were forced back into the office by a CO who was rushing with Jake Jensen bleeding out down the hall.

He’d been stabbed. 

By who, no one seemed to know. 

“I-it does?”

He frowned, nodding once more, “unfortunately.  Though, it doesn’t usually happen to someone like Jensen!”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“Well, Jake Jensen is low inmate on the totem pole of power struggles around here,” Sanjay shrugged, “he’s quiet.  Keeps to himself.  Doesn’t have any gang or mob ties.  One of the few.  Usually, people just leave him alone…even the guards.  I’m sure you’ve seen him do the IT work here…and up until last month he volunteered in the wing with Dr. Ellis and myself…”

The guilt gnawed at your stomach even more remembering not only the conversation you’d had where you told him he was done with you, but also of Dr. Ellis.

“He must have really pissed someone off,” he shrugged, “say…wasn’t he a patient of yours?”

“T-traded him to Jeffries…”

“Shame,” he said with a sigh, “seemed like he’s been happier the past week you’ve been around…thought someone was finally getting through to him.  You know, we’ve had the poor kid on suicide watch a few times since he’s arrived…always says people are ‘tossing him away.’  Think he’s just got issues with women and when one finally tells him no he goes off the deep end…last time it was with the female CO on D block…she got him transferred to A because of it…and he stopped hanging around once Lila told him he was crossing lines with her…he was writing her little love notes and such.”

You frowned, not really having a comeback for the conversation. 

For a few minutes you and Dr. Sanjay stood, staring at Jake, “has Dr. Ellis been informed of the attack on him?”

“She was down here before I had the chance to text her.  It was during the shift change so she was doing some last minute paperwork…while she wasn’t overly affectionate with Jensen, that really seemed to rattle her.  I gave her yesterday and today off.”  

You nodded, “Oh…”

“Well…I’m sure you’ve got to get back,” he said firmly, “thank you for checking on him even though you switched him to Jeffries.  She hasn’t been in once.”

You nodded, before you finally got the courage to leave, heading back towards your office. You were surprised when the door was wide open.

You could have sworn you locked it. 

Furrowing your brows, you looked around.  Sliding your head into the room first, everything seemed like it was the way that you’d left it.

Except for the envelope that sat on your desk. 

Your name was scrawled across it in bold calligraphy writing.  Gently opening the envelope, you gasped at how the heavy cardstock weighed you down.  Especially when you saw the words penned onto it.

‘Every sweet ounce of you belongs to me, doc.  Let Jensen taste you again, and he won’t wake up.’

Chapter 3

Tag List:  @lohnes16, @prokey16, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @teambarnes72

[thlayli-ra]

Tried to go with something soft for the Stray pic but it’s just ended up super-horny instead.

[lemonine]

bean is like a bird but also like a bunny and also assigned catboy and also a sheep and a butterfly and a pegasus and i think i might have assigned too much animal themes to my oc

[captain-krow-drozdov]

I See Four Outcomes For What Happens To Non-Looping Siffrin

1. Non-Looping Siffrin Has Just Been Evaporator. He's Gone. Reduced To Atoms. [Super Angst Cause They Essentially Killed Siffrin]

2. Siffrin Got Booted Back To The County™ [Sorta Angst Cause Like Do They Forget Him Once He's On The Island? Do They Remember Siffrin But Siffrin Forgets Them? Who Knows]

3. Siffrin Has Been Put In Spectator Mode/Ghost Tethered To Post Canon Siffrin Till The Looping Problem Has Been Fixed. [Having A Panic Attack As An Unseen Unheard Sorta Ghost As Someone Else Replaces You And Your Family Wanted This Random Guy To Replace You Angst]

4. Non-Looping Siffrin Is Now With Post Canon Party Having A Mini Meltdown Cause WTF Is Happening What Do You Mean Time Loop??? H U H?

Who Made The Wish?

Probably Bonnie In A Fit Of Frustration Like That One Response You Can Get Post Adults Only Death Talk. But Honestly All Of The Party Has At Some Point During The Loops Wished For A Siffrin That Remembers The Loops.

How Does The Loop Work Now?

In Order For The Loops To Not Just Immediately Stop Once Post Canon Siffrin Shows Up I Think The Wish Has To Be Attached To All The Party's Subconscious Desire To Stay Together And The Loops Won't Stop Till They All Learn How To Communicate. Siffrin May Have Performed The Ritual But It's The Entire Party's Fault They're In The Loop. Maybe Siffrin Taught Them How To Properly Wish At Some Point And That's Why IDK

How's Post Canon Siffrin Doin? + So No Loop? [The Memory Of Back In The Blinding Building Again AU]

After Waking Up In The Meadow™ And Subsequently Screaming In Frustration As They Mentally Cursed Out Every God They Know (As Well As Brushing Off Mira's Concern About Their Violent Awakening With The Excuse Of A Bad Dream) Sif Quietly Goes Through The Stages Of Grief And Adds A Stage In About Three Loops As They Try And Orient Themselves In This Fun House Mirror Version Of Their Own Personal Hell.

Denial; This Is A Bad Dream Caused By Stress (Loop 1) Anger; Fuck This House, Fuck That Rock Trap And Fuck The King (End Of Loop 1 Beginning Of Loop 2) Bargaining; Maybe It's A False Awakening Dream And I'm Not Back In The Loops (Loop 2) Depression; I'm Really Back In The Loops Huh... And This Time There's No Loop... (Mid Loop 2) Acceptance; Yep I'm Definitely Back In The Blinding Loops Again. Time To Dust Off That Script. (Loop 3) And Bargaining 2 Electric Boogaloo; Fuck It I Guess I'm The Guide Now. Call Me Stardust You're Helpful Guide To The Loops. (←Post The Party Is The Ones Looping Not Siffrin Reveal)

During The First Couple Of Loops They Do Their Best To Remember The Script And Try Not To Snap At Anyone Or Just Start Crying.

They Are Disappointed That Loop Isn't Here But Mostly Their Just Happy It's Only Him That Has To Do This All Over Again. Loop Deserves Whatever Peace They've Found.

They Soon Switch To Half Sticking To The Script Half Trying New Things In An Attempt To Understand Why They Are Back In The Loops. Currently They Have Two Goals; Protect Their Family And Gather Information.

Thanks To An Alternate Sus Odile Loop Siffrin Discovers That This Version Of The Party Has Been Looping Instead Of Their Siffrin And That Their Siffrin Is Now Missing.

Due To This Revelation Siffrin Decides To Adopt The Currently Vacant Guide Role And Begins To Go By Stardust And Does His Best To Help The Party With The Loops With Slightly Bitter Sense Of Amusement With The Whole Situation. Because Of Course This Would Happen After A Solid Year Of Having His Happy Ending. At Least He Still Looks Like Himself Scars From His Original Final Loop And All.

This Eventually Ends In Him Abandoning The Script Entirely With Good Old Fashioned Fuck It We Ball Mentality (Possibly With The Help Of Some Snagged Alcohol) And No Longer Holds Back During Fights Which Is How They Discover They Have The Highest Level Of The Party.

His Mental Health Will Get Worse Or Better Depending On What Happened To Non-Looping Siffrin Cause Let's Be Honest The Loops Did Nothing For This He/Theys Abandonment + Self Hate Issues.

How's Post Canon Siffrin Doin? + So Two Guides? (AKA Looping Party Already Had A Loop At Home) [The Memory Of Back In The Blinding Building Again: Two Loops Are Better Than One AU]

The Second Siffrin Wakes Up In The Meadow™ For The Second Time He Comes To The Unfortunate Decision That This Might Not Be A Dream And Beelines It To The Favor Tree.

Now The Loop Of This Timeline Is Used To The Clueless Non-Looping Siffrin So When They See Siffrin With A Wild Look In His Eye Rapidly Approaching They Shortcircuit A Little Bit Cause That's Not Supposed To Happen????

While Siffrin Is Having A Half Conversation Half Interrogation With Their Starry Alternate Self The Looping!Party Are Panicking Cause Siffrin Acted Strange Last Loop And Now He's Just Straight Up Missing ✨ He Never Leaves The Meadow Without Someone Waking Him Up It Is Time To Panic.

This Ultimately Leads To Everyone At The Favor Tree Doing The Time Looper Equivalent Of The Spiderman Pointing Meme.

How's Post Canon Siffrin Doin? Except It's Post Canon Loop. [The Memory Of Get Soft Locked Idiot AU]

I Can't Do Better Than What @felikatze Offered [Here] Also Known As Mega Angst =3

Everyone Except For Siffrin Is Looping Au Except Someone Wishes That Siffrin Knew Everything There Was To Know About The Loops And Subsequently Accidently Replaces Their Non-Looping Siffrin With Post Game Canon Siffrin And They Only Find Out Cause Siffrin Gets The Memory Of Back In The Fucking Building Again.

[marie098887]

Early airport morings. ✈️

Going to the airport with your boyfriend.

Part 3: Ness, Hiori, Shidou Kaiser, Niko, Sae,

📝 Requests: OPEN

After months of talking about it, canceling plans, and pretending you’d “definitely do it next break,” you and your boyfriend finally found the time. No matches. No press. No chaos. Just a trip, something small, something together. It’s early in the morning. The sky’s still dark. You’re both running on no sleep, dragging your bags and trying to act like this isn’t the most exciting thing you’ve done in weeks. Sleepy faces, overpriced airport food, and that quiet buzz of we’re actually doing this. The trip hasn’t even started yet, but it already feels like a good memory.

🎀 Alexis Ness

When he picks you up, he’s dressed sharp, simple layers, clean shoes, soft scarf around his neck. No chaos. No drama. Just the usual quiet elegance he always seems to carry.

“You look perfect,” he says when you step out, voice low. A small smile tugs at his lips. “As always.”

He opens the trunk for your bag and doesn’t let you carry a thing after that.

The drive is peaceful. The kind of calm where nothing needs to be said. Instrumental music playing through the speakers, city lights blurring past. Every few minutes he glances at you, eyes soft, like he still can’t believe the trip is actually happening.

At the airport, he moves with quiet confidence. Walks just fast enough to guide you, always checking that you’re right beside him. Keeps your documents together. Wipes your sleeve when you get coffee foam on it.

He doesn’t show much excitement, not the loud kind. He had that same soft smile he always had on her face. His fingers brush yours every time you stop moving like he needs to keep that little contact there. Like it kept him grounded.

At the gate, he lets you lean on him. No questions. No teasing. Just rests his cheek gently against your temple.

“I’m glad it’s you,” he says, almost a whisper.

When they call your group, he stands and offers his hand to you — not out of habit. Out of care.

“Let’s make this a good memory.”

And with that, he leads you toward the gate, quiet, sure, and completely yours.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🩵Hiori Yo

You’re barely awake when he picks you up.

He’s already out of the car, loading your bag into the trunk like it’s second nature. Hoodie zipped. Hair still a little damp from his shower. Soft sleepy eyes. Calm hands.

“Mornin’,” he says, voice low and warm, that little Southern tilt sneaking into every word. “It’s cold. You bring that hoodie I told ya to grab?”

You mumble something back. He just chuckles.

“C’mon, get in. You’ll warm up in the car.”

The ride is quiet. You’re half asleep, eyes barely open. He drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting next to yours. Music’s low. Something slow, soft. The kind of thing you’d fall asleep to if you weren’t so excited.

You do doze off. When you wake up, his jacket’s draped over your lap.

“Didn’t wanna bother ya,” he says when he sees you stir. “Just figured you looked a little cold.”

At the airport, he takes care of everything, boarding passes, bag drop, gate info, smooth and easy, like he’s done this a thousand times. Keeps his voice low. Keeps his hand on your back when the crowd gets thick.

You stop to grab a drink. He sips his and makes a face.

“Still don’t like coffee,” he mutters. “Don’t know why I keep tryna.”

“You do this every time.”

He smiles, slow and quiet. “Guess I just like routines.”

At the gate, he sits next to you, stretching his long legs out, arms crossed. You lean into him and he shifts, lets you get comfortable.

“Been meanin’ to do somethin’ like this with you,” he says, almost under his breath. “Just us. Nothin’ fancy. Just time.”

You nod. He squeezes your hand.

When they call your group, he grabs both bags and nudges your knee.

“You ready?” he asks. “Let’s go make a good memory, darlin’.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🩷 Shidou Ryusei

You should’ve known he’d show up like that.

Hair barely brushed. Hoodie stretched over his head. Sunglasses on. A duffel bag he definitely packed in under 5 minutes. He honks from the street and yells through the window:

“Let’s GOOO, baby! We’re gonna miss our flight and I’ll cry on the plane!”

You groan, drag your suitcase down the steps, and he immediately steals it.

“What the hell did you pack, bricks?” he says, laughing as he struggles to lift it into the trunk. “Actually, don’t tell me. I like the mystery.”

The car ride is full of chaotic energy. He’s bouncing his leg, blasting some ridiculous playlist.

“You excited?” he grins.

“I was. Until now.”

He throws his head back, laughing. “That’s the spirit.”

At the airport, it’s worse. He’s talking to random strangers. Asking TSA if they’ve ever tackled someone for fun. Trying to race you with the luggage carts.

“Winner gets kisses,” he says, already sprinting like it’s a match.

You lose. On purpose. Mostly.

Eventually, you find the gate. Sit down. Breathe. He stretches out in the chair next to you, legs wide, hoodie sleeves covering his hands.

Then he gets quiet. Just for a second.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says, voice low now. No grin. No teasing.

You look at him.

He shrugs. “Could’ve gone with anyone. Didn’t wanna.”

You blink. “...Did you just say something genuine?”

“Hell no,” he smirks. “I’m sleep, deprived. Don’t listen to me.”

They call your group. He hops up, grabs your bag, and slings it over his shoulder like it weighs nothing.

“Let’s go, babe.”

And just like that, you’re in motion again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

👑 Michael Kaiser

You wake up to a text that just says: “don’t forget your passport. i won’t turn around.” Sent at 4:43 a.m.

No emoji. No “good morning.” Just straight to the point.

You roll your eyes until you see him waiting outside.

Matching luggage set. Flowy coat. Headphones around his neck like an accessory. And yeah, he does look good.

“You’re late,” he says, smiling like he’s already forgiven you.

“You’re early.”

The drive is filled with him making sure you have everything. Passport? Boarding pass? Backup charger? Lip balm? It’s half affection, half control freak, but he does it so smoothly you barely notice.

“You’re lucky I planned this,” he says, glancing over at you. “Imagine what a mess this would’ve been if you did it.”

At the airport, he moves like he owns it. Talks to the airline staff like they’re old friends. Walks ahead and looks back just to make sure you’re still following, smirking when you roll your eyes.

You stop for drinks. He gets something you’ve never heard of and makes fun of your basic order.

At the gate, he scrolls on his phone while your head rests on his shoulder.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, until he does.

“I’m glad we’re doing this,” he murmured, so casual it almost didn’t register. “I needed this.”

You look at him.

He doesn’t look back, but he’s smiling.

When your group’s called, he gets up, grabs your bag like it’s routine.

“Let’s go, meine liebe,” he says over his shoulder. “Time to see another country.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🖤 Niko Ikki

He doesn't honk or text when he arrives, just parks and waits, hands on the wheel, eyes scanning the clock every few seconds like he doesn't already know you're punctual.

When you slide into the passenger seat, he gives you a small nod. “You sleep okay?” he asks, voice low, barely above the hum of the engine.

You nod back. He smiles, just a little.

The drive is quiet, but not awkward. His playlist is calm, instrumental. His window’s cracked just slightly, cold air drifting in. You catch him glancing at you once or twice, just soft, side eye looks like he’s checking if you’re warm enough. Awake enough. Still here.

At the airport, he walks beside you, not ahead. Keeps his hand hovering just behind your back when the crowd gets thick.

You notice he’s holding both boarding passes, yours in front, ready to hand off without a word.

You stop for coffee. He orders without asking what you want.

“You always get the same thing,” he says when you blink at him.

At the gate, he doesn’t speak much. Just sits close enough that your knees touch. Scrolls quietly on his phone, but doesn’t really look at anything.

Then, when the terminal starts boarding, he stands and finally glances your way again.

“This is good,” he says softly. “Us. Doing something like this.”

You smile. “Yeah. I think so too.”

He grabs your bag before you can reach for it and nods toward the gate.

“Let’s go.”

No drama. No big moment.

But when he reaches for your hand in line? You squeeze it, and neither of you lets go.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

❤️ Sae Itoshi

He shows up early. Doesn’t say anything when you open the door, just gives you a once over like he’s checking if you forgot something.

“You got your passport?” he asks, flat tone. “Charger?”

You nod. He nods once and walks ahead to load your bag.

He drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gearshift. No music. Just the sound of the road and the way his eyes flick over to you when you’re not looking.

You think he’s tired. You’re right.

But he didn’t cancel. He didn’t reschedule. He’s here. And that alone says more than anything.

At the airport, he’s all efficient. Pulls out your ID for you. Knows where the gate is. Doesn’t need directions. Doesn’t wait for you to keep up but somehow never lets you fall behind, either.

You stop for coffee. He doesn’t ask what you want, he just brings you the same thing you always get and hands it to you without a word.

At the gate, you sit in silence. He leans back in his chair, closes his eyes.

Then he speaks, so quiet you almost miss it.

“This is nice.”

You glance over. “What is?”

“This. No cameras. No reporters. Just... you.”

You blink. You weren’t expecting that. He knows.

“Don’t make a thing out of it,” he adds, eyes still closed.

You don’t.

When they call your group, he gets up, grabs both bags like it’s nothing, and gestures for you to follow.

“You coming, or what?”

And just like that, sharp tone, soft eyes, he leads the way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That’s Part 3 officially closed and cleared for takeoff <3

[raggedyspincmoth]

Hello, I’m not really gonna post much, so I’m just gonna drop this off right here:

An AU that’s technically a combination of AUs in one. Before we have the focus of the story, Soft Locked, then we have the extra Sans for another AU I made from a dream I had, A Traveler’s Tale (sorry if there’s an AU that’s already called that, it’s been years since I’ve been in this fandom—), and then the bootlegs. To tell who’s who is here:

For now we have: Lock Sans, Glass Canon (Mettaton NEO), Fishsticks (Undyne the Undying), and Cidet (The Photoshop Flowey). There are more from the Soft Locked au, but that’s for another time.

Then the Bootlegs are Da Forgotten (the girl with the half mask) and Elizabeth (Yang spirit). There’s the giant bug thing and another person from the first drawing, but we don’t talk about them right now.

And then Traveler Sans. Just him. No one else. He is alone, traveling the Multiverse without an au to call home and no one to hang out with… until now.

It’s a choose-your-own-adventure with this story, with Cidet choosing to hang out with the Bootlegs and Lock and Fishsticks finding Traveler along their mission to find Glass Canon! And yes, Glass Canon is on their own… somewhere. Like an odyssey of sorts.

Of course, I’m drip feeding the lore for now, so if ya’ll have any questions about the characters or the AU itself, go ahead!

[screampied]

PARTITION! g. satoru

ৎ୭ sum. your sugar daddy, satoru’s worst fear happened. he fears you’re too much of a spoiled rotten brat. screw riding in his expensive private limousine—you wanted to ride something else instead. (him, duh)

wc. 7.3k

warnings. fem! reader, sugar daddy gojo! au, age gap (early twenties + thirties), car sęx, bratty reader, unprotected, getting eaten out the window, tít job, reverse cowgirl, doggy, cunnīlingus, nanami cameo, slight alcohol consumption, size kink, cęrvix kissing, possessive themes (wearing waist beads w his initials), implied multiple rounds, he’s sooo whipped, bręeding.

➤ sd! gojo masterlist

“meet my baby here, sweets. charlotte.”

“satoru, what.”

as satoru had an arm slinked around your waist, brushing a thumb across the jewels that stuck against of of the many designer blouses he’s bought you within the past week, he hums. the two of you were staring straight at a limousine. it was icy blue like his eyes with a plethora of dark-tinted windows. to even top it off, it had ‘G.S limousine service, inc.’ carved into the side of one of the doors in bright, blue cursive.

you huffed, smearing your glossed lips together. “you named your limousine?”

“heh, well she’s yours now,” he hums, guiding you toward the slid open doors. “c’mon, there’s a club i wanna take you to. if we leave now, we can beat the press.” and satoru takes a peek at his gleaming, pricey watch. he helps lifts the back of your long skirt from touching the ground before you step in. immediately, you’re hit with flashing lights inside the luxurious car and its plush red seats.

“where to, sir.” a blond chauffeur adjusts his mirror with a sigh, taking a short glance at you.

satoru throws an arm around you, tugging lightly on his tie that’s tucked neatly in his suit. “ah, kento, meet my girl. and please—drive us to my private lounge,” satoru kisses your cheek as you sit, whispering in an impish, low tone. “buckle up, sweetheart. ‘s gonna be a bumpy ride.”

the seats were oh-so-soft, a violent hot color of maroon as the entire limo was lit up with nothing but dim flashing, flashing lights.

it was bright, the size alone was probably bigger than a simple normal bathroom. satoru saw you taking in the luxurious life like you always did, craning your head from left to right before peering at the empty wine glasses in front of you both.

“it’s so pretty,” you hummed, your head resting against his shoulder.

once you’re laid against him, you’re smacked with his signature loud cologne scent. it was always a scent you’d never forget, nor could you get used to.

it’s strong, making you take the citrusy manly aroma in silence every time.

with a raised brow, you look up at the white-haired man before timidly murmuring, “wait- what do you mean this is mine? like.. the whole thing?”

“yeah, silly girl,” satoru brushes a thumb around the center of your forehead in invisible circles.

you’ve grown to get weak with his tender touch every time. cerulean-iced eyes lock against you lovingly, and that’s when that cunning grin spreads at each side of his crooked lips. “think of it as an uh- surprise gift for the new year.”

with a pout, you open your mouth to complain. “satoru- last week, you just bought me-”

“a convertible, and i’d do it again in a heartbeat,” satoru whispers, planting another kiss near your temple.

your incoming words come to an abrupt pause, and the cute speechless look you gave him always made him hum in amusement.

one of the many things satoru liked- no loved about you, was that you were always so humble.

you were forever grateful, but you couldn’t help but be hesitant sometimes at how much he’d constantly spend for you. satoru continued to shower you with compliment though—constantly reassuring you that he wanted to splurge his money on you.

you were living the dream - literally.

embodying the life of a rich girl, a type of rich girl where you’d usually see in cheesy movies or sung in iconic songs by artists like gwen stefani.

even though it’s been a full-blown year, you’ve started to grow accustomed to the sweet luxury of being a sugar baby.

satoru gojo’s sugar baby.

but he wasn’t starting to see you as just his pretty ‘lil sugar baby though, that much was apparent.

satoru didn’t expect you to not only take his money but his heart too.

and he never minded.

he couldn’t put a price on that anyway.

“besides,” he grabs a clear, empty glass and an unopened bottle from underneath the fuzzy, red seat. with a flick, satoru removes the cork that is plugged near the top with just his thumb and middle finger. as he pours a small portion of wine inside, the velvet-colored liquid stains against all sides of the glass.

“what’s mine is yours, baby,” he takes a sip before sighing at the cassis flavor hits against his tastebuds, “ ‘s what my sweet thing deserves.”

as you’re still pouting, the limo continues to drive.

the windows were tinted, but it was clear as day when you looked through them to take a quick peel. as usual, the roads were quite busy with rush hour but it was a smooth ride nonetheless.

however though, you had to admit, you were getting a bit… bored.

satoru sat man spread, both of his wide legs taking so much unnecessary space before he contemptibly sighed again. with one of his arms still wrapped around you, you took a moment to take in his suave, handsome appearance.

he always was draped in nothing but tuxedos—

after all, without the whole sugar daddy side thing, you sometimes forget how satoru was a literal well-known businessman.

he never really went into the specifics of his work, but you knew he was the CEO of some private company.

satoru was a very powerful man, a man with a big net worth … but an even bigger heart.

the shoes that satoru wore were dress shoes of his own brand, of course. in the luminous, glittery lights of the inside of the limousine—the shoes were visibly spit-shined from top to bottom. his suit’s dark black, and the handkerchief that stuck out of his front chest had the imprints of your lipstick on it.

of course he kept that.

his hair..

it’s messily ruffled but somewhat presentable, slicked back as usual with a faint side part. over time, you started to notice how he was growing facial hair too.

it’s subtle, and you’d have to squint but you saw it. you saw how specks of white hair were trying to form down near his chin.

it was attractive nonetheless, and the thought of satoru growing a stubble had you squeezing your thighs together in shame.

after all, he was in his early-thirties so he was bound to grow some facial hair at some point. he’s always been a well-shaved man, but the image forever plagued your mind.

“yeees, sweets.” he snaps you out of your little fantasm, the near-empty wine glass still in his hand. he sits the expensive bottle of ‘screaming eagle’ near the limo’s bar that was covered with dozens of tiny, pretty rhinestones.

“h.. huh?” you stammer, blinking thrice.

shit.

the way you stared at him was like a deer in headlights. caught red-handed!

that same wry grin that stretched so slyly pried at both cracks of his lips before satoru tilted his head. “you’re starin’ y’know,” and you felt his hand placed on your thigh. “is my baby bored?”

“a little,” you admitted, hearing the loud screeching of tire wheels and screaming horns of other cars in the background.

only satoru could make you feel like you were the only girl in the world..

slowly, satoru dragged his pink tongue over his upper lip which was a bit damp from the scarlet-colored wine.

you sucked in a raucous breath - your thoughts turning more ‘n more filthy by the second.

his lips.. they were so perfect, naturally glossed, and forevermore had a plump downward curve. you could stare at them all day, and your eyes widened once a drip of wine started to trickle down the right side of his lip.

“ooh- excuse me. guess ‘m a bit messy today,” he throatily chuckles, feeling the coldness of the red droplet race down his skin. “would you be a doll ‘n lick that up for me, sweetheart?”

“okay-” you comply right away, positioning yourself on his lap.

satoru titters, cocking his head lazily toward the left as you get comfortable. cute, he thinks.

he could already tell how eager you were. also, he didn’t tell you the duration of the ride but it was probably about a good hour.

like hell could you even wait that long.

it felt like time was so cruel - standing still as you inched closer and closer toward his face. satoru laid man spread the entire time, eyeing you closely with his gaze never leaving yours.

he paws a big hand near your waist, hearing your pretty airy breaths pick up.

“stop looking at me like that-”

“aw, is it a crime to stare at my gi-”

satoru’s fatally silenced with a kiss.

it’s a rough one, and you couldn’t wait to run your tongue across the remnants of cherry-flavored wine that now started to drip down his chin.

it tasted sweet - a spicy cherry flavor, and you moaned once his knee aligned itself between your thighs.

his thigh was so bulky too, even underneath the lanky, slender slacks he wore. satoru was a particularly ripped guy in general — you knew his workout routine like the back of your hand, and sometimes he’d even let you do sets with him.

(sets that mainly consisted of you sitting on his back while he did push-ups orrrr sitting on his abs while he used barbells in his private gym)

“mhm~” you moan against his lips, hearing the competitive sounds of teeth rudely smacking against each other in vigorous sync.

each tongue’s on a dangerous mission, desperately trying to dominate the other and you couldn’t help but melt.

your twisting, hot tongue started to wander, creating a slippery snail trail near the crack of his mouth before nibbling on his bottom lip. “sa- satoruu.” you’d breathe, one hand giving his tie a needy, impatient pull.

“heyyy, you know i don’t speak whine,” he whispers, breaking away from your lips for a second.

your lips were already swollen, slickly shining with saliva that could’ve been an easily replaceable substitute for lip gloss. “use those words, sweetheart,” and it was like the more he spoke, the deeper his voice seductively pitched.

the knee that still rested between your sprawled open legs didn’t make things easier either. “tell me what you want ‘n maybe i’ll give it to ya, hm?”

with a huff, you mumble a soft, “you-”

“well yeah, me silly! elaborate for me though.”

“i want- i want you.. i want all of you satoru. right now,” you go into more detail, leaning in to paint a slope of wet kisses down his neck. satoru’s collar was a bit unkempt—some exposed skin showed above his collar which you then brought upon yourself to attack with kisses. “pretty please.”

“hah- but.. you already have me,” he inhales, groaning once he feels you starting to grind against his lap.

satoru’s touch was pure static..

his fingers couldn’t help but mindlessly roam, tickling against your bare skin that protruded through the minuscule squares of your ripped fishnets.

the stare you two shared was just so intimate, and he could almost already smell your lusty, loud arousal..

“mhm- y’know, what i want too?” satoru huskily whispers against your ear, grunting as your hips slooooowly rubbed against his visible boner.

hugely, it stuck out through his jet-black slacks. leave it to you to always make him hard.

“tell me.” you reply with a chastened frown, sliding a hand up his loose button-up. your hand enters underneath his shirt and his skin is so warm that it feels like his entire body is on fire.

right away, your curious palm gets a taste of his hardened abs that were nearly akin to the texture of a damn brick.

rigid, flexing muscles of satoru’s relax at your touch before he grabs a nice chunk of your ass.

“oh, nothing! ‘m just a.. ‘lil thirsty, sweets..”

♡ ♡ ♡

“ohmygod-” you’d squeal, cupping a clammy palm over your mouth.

when satoru said he was thirsty, you surely didn’t expect him to have you hanging out the window with your ass perfectly perked out.

with a single hand, he pulled up your skirt, raising it to the brink of your waistline while dragging your pretty lace panties to the side with a single thumb.

you were partially hanging out the window - safely though, he’d never let you fall.

satoru had an arm wrapped around your waist, one hand sliding down your thigh. vehemently, his tongue swirled circles around your clit before giving it one looooong suck.

his lips puckered, and he could already feel your hips starting to stutter against his mouth.

“mng- ‘toru,” you’d heave, wriggling your ass around his face. the tip of his nose started to rub up and down your slit too, and he’s shamelessly getting a whiff of your candied mess.

he was always so nasty, proudly spitting on your pussy, lapping it up before it dripped onto the thousand-dollar seats.

“mhh- wiggle that ass a little more for me baby, dance with my.. haaah- tongue,” he whispers airily, thumbing a fat finger near your pulsing clit. satoru found it so cute how you’d pulse every time he’d smear slippery circles around your pussy.

you just couldn’t help it!

you’re sucking in each ‘n every breath, sinking the edges of your teeth into your bawled knuckle to suppress your moans.

a strong gust of wind strikes you as the car continues to move, and you’re just meekly smiling at the cars that pass by.

from their points of view… the drivers are just seeing some random girl slightly hanging out a halfway-lowered limousine window.

in reality though,

you were getting eaten out while dozens of cars speedily drove past you.

through your slightly blurred peripherals, you saw satoru’s chauffeur who you remember hearing him address as ‘kento’ earlier, giving you a peer through his side-view mirror. he had his hands firmly on his steering wheel, scoffing to himself with a head shake.

he mumbled something under his breath as he looked away, focusing his browned eyes on the talking GPS that read him the directions to the destination.

from your sweet, repetitive moans, you couldn’t exactly make out what he said but from a quick read of his lips, you’d probably guess it was something like:

“i don’t get paid enough for this shit.”

as you’re still hung out the window, your legs part a bit - causing your eyes to widen.

satoru’s slurping you clean, skipping frisky plump fingers down your thigh before cupping his plump lips around your pussy. his head, it moves back and forth, ferociously shifting side to side like a damn madman.

you probably looked soo stupid. your mouth stayed open the entire time with your jaw forever dropped—dangling like an earring.

“fuh- fuuuck,” your trembling voice pitches higher, and you claw a hand near the back of your ass.

tightly gripping at a piece of your ass, it fits around your hand entirely before you turn to look back at satoru.

already, his chin’s got a pretty coat of your juices pouring down his jaw. his tongue was just hungry, wanting far more than just a few sips of his expensive screaming eagle..

you were far sweeter than any beverage, and satoru continuously took big, big gulps.

he treated his lips like a straw, pursing them to suck before slurping every single drop of you clean until you could barely hold your legs open.

“mhm- look at alllll this pretty fuckin’ ass,” he groans, removing your hand that was gripped on your rear.

with a whack! he hits it, humming at the cute ‘lil jolt of your shimmying body.

your skin jiggles in his face instantly, and you feel his curving tongue precisely slow its frantic pace down by the second.

there….

the tip of his pointed tongue stretched itself so far out that it clicked itself against your precious g-spot. “mng- spread y’rself wider, baby. ‘m not done with my.. hah- drink.”

“suh- sssatoru,” you’d drag out your whiny, pathetic words.

your brows formed into a furrow as your hands grabbed onto the edges of the rolled-down window. sweaty, perspiring fingertips imprinted the fogged glass as he licked every wet orifice thoroughly.

thankfully, some music was blasting in the background—seemingly drowning out your constant, pleading whines and whimpers..

satoru’s designer tie even gets a bit wet - you’re drip drip dripping, tears of glossy slick pouring flawlessly from both sides of your legs. he brings a thumb toward your hole, feeling your cute wriggles before spitting down your pussy.

slowly, the webby string trails a straight, sloppy line down and he licks it up — removing his thumb and starting at your hole before lapping his tongue down the bottom part of your pussy.

he’s wholeheartedly feral - animalistic, working his tongue until your brain turns into mush.

eventually, you ended up crawling back into the spacious limousine and landed on your back.

with your legs still spread, satoru lifts your thighs, continuing his feast. “mmph- get back here, sweets. ‘m not haaah- done,” he’d jibe each time he’d squint to see your cute weak pulse up close.

you’re impatient - desperate for your release so much that you could almost taste it..

it tasted sweet with a bit of tang, and the more you fantasized about your inevitable orgasm— the more more more you were starting to blank out all on his tongue.

“mnh- attaaaaa girl, let ‘toru get a nice good sip.” he’s still slurping you, a few excess juices smearing against his cheek.

satoru’s long, white lashes flutter open and close as he relishes in your treacly taste.

you just couldn’t stay still though.

with the way your hips cutely tossed ‘n turned each time his tongue delved inside of your sopping cunt, he’d think your middle name was ‘squirmer.’

time drags by for a looong time, not as long as satoru’s tongue though.. not by a long shot..

it flicked its way through each spot, munching proudly against your clit before your tummy tucked inward. your brain haywires, and with your mouth wide open — the only sounds that escaped were small, labored breaths.

you’re cumming, and your lashes frantically blinked at so many blinks per second. your muscles that were once tense relaxed as you’re finally succumbing to pleasure.

you squealed out that final, harmonic battle cry before your head plopped into the edge of the limo’s seat.

“fuck- fuck, fuuuck,” you’re whimpering, repeating the same swear like a broken record as you feel him grab ahold of your writhing hips.

his tongue’s length curved its way everywhere, creating a path to remember as it made itself known at all tender areas of your pussy.

“uh huh- that’s it, good girl. ride it out, riiiide it out, i gotcha,” he groans, laying his tongue fully flat. it’s a rose-like pink, soddened tastebuds sizzling in contempt once you’re ‘quenching’ his thirst with your sweetened arousal.

buzzing sounds went in and out of your ears as you just released huff after puff through your lungs. satoru’s lips were glossed with nothing but your slick, even more than they already were.

he gives your poor, convulsing clit its last finally smooches before reluctantly breaking away.

“hah- never a dull moment with her,” he licks his lips from top to bottom, grabbing out his lipstick-stained handkerchief before patting underneath his chin. “you okay, sweetheart?”

“ ‘m okay,” you breathe, still feeling tingles surge through every one of your veins that ran down your wobbly, numb limbs. your legs had it the worse.

you barely felt anything, and satoru helped you back to your feet.

it was a limo, so it wasn’t like you could exactly stand but you sufficed by crouching just below the fuzzy-made hood.

satoru lies slouched back - giving his lap a few playful pats before tilting his head at you. “c’mere, sweet thing,” and his voice was dripping with erotic silk.

his ocean-strong eyes zero down at your body, trailing up up up before eventually stopping just about your waistline.

your skirt was now off — pulled to the floor and so were your panties. you only had your matching blouse on. you got an idea though, and satoru watched you get on your knees. “oh..?”

“ ‘toru,” you speak in shortened puffs, still trying to get over your recent teeth-shattering orgasm. every sensitive axon and nerve located in your body was screaming at you, aching for more stimulation as time passed.

as your hands casually spread his long legs wider across the cushioned seats, you hummed. “remember those waist beads you ordered me a few weeks back?”

“mhm,” he nods, eyes never darting away from your wriggling body for a second.

satoru wondered what your game was.

as he was trying to prevent himself from smiling, he was starting to realize that maybe, just maybe you were starting to get just a liiiiitle bit spoiled.

as his legs were fully sprawled apart, you brought your hands toward the hem of the designer blouse that stuck against your skin. you honestly lost count of just how many clothes satoru’s bought you within the past year.

he watches closely - zeroing down at your figure, nipping on his lip as he stares at you leisurely pulling the piece of clothing off of you.

satoru’s seen your skin countless times, but there was just something about your body that he just couldn’t get enough of.

couldn’t get enough of you..

if he was being honest, he could stare at you all day.

“look. it fits perfectly,” you speak in a sweet tone, your thighs stuck together as you were still dripping from the inner crevices. you could feel yourself throbbing, and it took everything in you to not let out a moan.

satoru tsks, kissing his teeth once he’s now exposed to your skin.

the damn beads,

they wrapped around your waist and indeed fit your entire torso. his eyes studied the gold that went around your raised hips, whistling once he saw those two crystallized initials - his initials.

‘G.S’

the small two letters hung on one waist bead that was drooped low near your naval and an extra twin pair near the charms behind your back. “fuuuck- know that’s right,” satoru huffs, his breathing starting to get a bit heavy.

“all mine, heh- looks so damn pretty on you,” and as his eyes continued to meander down your skin, satoru’s head rests back against the softly cushioned seat. “hm- how ‘bout you model for me? show off that gorgeous body a little more f’ me.”

“say ‘please’,” you’d get on his lap, wrapping your arms around him. satoru looks up at you with a mere pouting scowl, a hand instinctively attaching itself to your hip.

“pleaaase, oh-pleaseeee sweets. don’t tease me too bad, you’re bein’ a bit of a spoiled girl right now,” he whispers, bringing wet, cold lips toward the corner of your neck. you moaned, feeling satoru’s free hand strum a few fingers down your waist beads.

they clank clank clanked, creating pretty jingle sounds at each faint movement before you started to move your hips.

“goddamn-” he holds in a breath, practically wordless as his eyes continued to rove.

briskly, you slowly turned yourself around, teasingly popping your hips to the dropping beats of the song that played through the limo’s speakers.

satoru’s suddenly short of breath, circling a thumb around the left cheek of your ass. he’s so hard, and you could feel it the more you rubbed your ass right up against thaaat particular spot.

he sucks his teeth once more, grunting as he feels the cloth knead against your skin so good..

“woman, you’re bein’ such a bratty tease right now..” and he could taste that round, large lump forming near the very back of his throat.

satoru shivers as your hands place on the crown of his knees, and you’re starting to rock rock rock back ‘n forth his throbbing boner. “hmph. the things i let ‘cha get away with, lucky ‘m not.. haah- fuck, bending ya over my lap, baby.”

“you talk a lot for a guy with a boner this hard, ‘toru.” you shrug, continuing the sensual jerking of your hips.

he’s grunting at every swift turn of your body, hearing his heart loudly thump through his ears.

the limo’s speed picks up a few miles and you could hear the grumbling from underneath the vehicle as you stayed quiet for a few seconds.

“mmh- fine, since you said please.”

as you’re still facing the other way, you reach for his buckle with your fingers brushing near the cold straps. you couldn’t see, so he grabbed your hand—guiding you where to unbuckle his slacks.

“f.. fuck, hurry up. you rubbin’ against me isn’t helping matters at all, y’know,” he tries to laugh but it comes out very dry.

satoru just wanted to be inside you, making you remember your place with a few sloppy strokes.

you giggled, hearing his pants and boxers sliiiide down to his ankles with a thud before jostling your rear way back against his leaning cock. it hung so cutely, and its tip was swollen with veins protruding at a few girthy sides.

with satoru still having a hold of your hand, he makes you touch the leaking head. “ooh,” you hum, twirling a thumb around his tender frenulum.

as you do so, he moans out the sluttiest moan, pretty white lashes squeezing shut for about three seconds to savor this moment.

“heh.. little girl,” he gutturally prowls, aligning his dick in between the crack of your fleshy mounds. it’s very hard, and you hummed at the warmth he provided. “go on then.. ride me in reverse, sweets. this the ride you wanted all along, hm?”

“yeaah,” you played along, almost seeing the weary smirk unfurl across his lips as he spoke.

you couldn’t wait any longer either.

you were throbbing persistently, every fiber of your being longing for satoru to ease his way inside of your pretty, sobbing cunt.

he was so big that your hand could barely wrap around the entity of his length. instantly, your palms met with various veins as you raised your hips moderately.

his vermillion-shaded tip carefully hovered over your dripping hole, and satoru’s just heavily breathing at your stilled body.

“mngh-” you released a rough, jagged breath once you were slowly making your way down on his cock.

like usual, you’re presented with that loving tiiiiight stretch that lasts for about a good four seconds.

satoru’s tip alone was big, and it pummeled through your insides as his inches started to leisurely disappear.

it’s such a lewd scene - a scene he wouldn’t mind replaying over ‘n over again in his head..

your pussy sings out sloshes of wet high notes in harmony, trying to take in his weighty shaft.

your mouth opens up on its own, and you’re breathing out colorful swears of ‘ohhh fuuuck’ ‘s as you continue to sink your way down.

from the both of you, countless breathy breaths were drawn from both raspy lungs as the mouthwatering penetration continued.

it felt like a squeeze pinching near your insides, tickling around you from the inside before adding pounds of pressure pressure pressure..

your hands go back to being placed on his knees, whimpering as his slick cock eases its way inside of your pussy. spongy, clamping walls hugged around him like a vice and your teeth were starting to feel that familiar chatter.

“god- always s- so fuckin’ big, ‘toru,” you moan, your bratty ‘lil façade shortly faltering once he’s finally buried balls fuckin’ deep.

the pit of your tummy was constantly heaving, cowardly sucking itself in and out at the sheer weight of his size before you eventually relaxed.

“perfect fit for my perfect… hah- girl.” he grunts, taking a quick peer down at your unbalanced thighs that struggled to move at first.

gradually, your hips started to move and greeted satoru’s lap with a sharp, rude slam. once you started to adapt to a rhythm, your hips rolled and rolled.

“agh- that’s i.. iiiiit,” he choked on his saliva, playing with the waist beads that danced against your torso as you moved.

satoru moans, feeling his fat base smush its way against your ass once you sat down. your hips were reeling, winding back into his pelvis like a wind-up toy.

with parched, hot skin amongst skin - the sounds echoed against the limo, nearly sounding over the music that played in the background.

satoru’s watching as you plop straight back into him before you sprightly wriggle your hips in a seductive circle.

“my, ain’t you a naughty girl..” he tosses his head back in overwhelming rapture, feeling his dick twitch inside you as the sloppy sounds continue.

it was hard not to hear - if it was anything satoru knew about your pussy, he knew that it was always, always vocal with him..

you’re slamming back against his lap every time, squeezing your palms against the crowns of his knees with your body twirling and falling back into his inviting lap.

if you kept riding him like that, he’d really be head over heels.

“ugh- yeah, girl. ride it, ride this dick like it’s yours because it fuckin’ is,” satoru grunts, feeling your cunt tighten for a second at his exact words. “heh- did my messy girl like that? like hearin’ that ‘m yours, sweetheart?”

“mhm,” you’d nod with your lips clamped shut.

he’s just so big, stretching through your insides with such ease. the once slow and steady beats of your heart were now thump thump thumping!

satoru’s bulbous-shaped tip had a hooked upturning curve, and fuck did you feel every sloping curve as you bounced up ‘n down on his cock.

it’s so good that your mouth’s pathetically watering from the inside, and you’re already starting to feel that burning sensation electrify through your aching, stretched muscles.

“mngh- look at this body, s… so damn-” and he pauses, clenching his jaw at the sloppy wet feeling of your barriers bear-hugging around his cock.

you’re just working your hips like it’s a full-time job, throwing them around in a circle so fast that even satoru could barely keep up.

with thighs upon thighs upon thighs, your skin sticks against his like glue. a trail of colorless slick smears down satoru’s leg and he moans at the loud slaps of zealous, clapping skin.

you’re sticky still, and he’s moaning louder once the speed of your hips quickens.

“yeah? yeah, better- fuckin’-ride-me,” and even though his voice faintly cracks, satoru still manages a sort of poised, cocky persona.

multiple ‘encouraging’ swats hit against the cheeks of your ass and you’re whining, putting your all into the movements of your jerking body. satoru’s snowy brows contort before he gives your waist beads a soft tug.

“do it, fuck me, baby. ‘n while you’re at it..” and as you’re still moving your hips, you feel a bit of paper rain down your back that’s starting to perspire with sweat.

“fuck-” satoru grunts smokily, staring as hundred dollar bills fall down your bare spine. “forgot ‘ta give you your allowance, might as well give it to you now.”

“hngh- satoruuu,” you whined, his cock hitting its way through every spot. it french-kisses near your clit before passionately making out with your cervix.

it located both spots easily, and the feeling had your toes curling inside of your four-inch heels.

satoru ended up tossing those same bills down your back, staring as it prettily fell down your body before landing on his lap and the limo’s cottony carpet.

“ ‘m gonna cum i think,” you moaned, slowing your turning hips in hypnotic, carnal arcs. satoru’s hands were brought to your waist with two thumbs pressed at each side of your hips. “ ‘m cummin’ satoru.”

“me too, s.. sweets,” he swallows, hissing silently at the unsteady bucking of your bouncing ass.

your rear jiggled at each slamming thrust, ricocheting against his thighs and it was just so mesmerizing to watch.

satoru’s feeling the scorching tip of his cock grow hot, and he’s starting to feel all types of contractions arise within his muscles. “god- tell me where to tell me where.”

“inside,” you moaned, bringing your hands toward your chest to cup to bouncing tits. you squeezed them, smearing a thumb around your hardened nipples before making yourself even more aroused.

it’s just so much to process.

your rutting hips, the loud squelches of your pussy, satoru’s dick driving through you repeatedly.. oh, you were in a daze.

“f- fuuuuck. be a… hah- good girl ‘n take it all then.” he groans, elated euphoria swelling within him.

you stuck against his lap so good, slickly sliding your ass back before going forward, then back into his pelvis again.

your movements alone left such a good taste in his mouth, and once he feels himself about to burst - he fuckin’ bursts.

a massive load spurts out of satoru, shooting deeply into your fluttering womb as your hips come to a freezing still.

you’re cumming too - whimpering as you’re gushing down on his cock while being absolutely filled.

wads ‘n wads of milky, gooey cum floods inside of you, plugging you to the fullest. you’re both moaning lowly, rocking against each other in rushed unison before you arch forward.

your ass was fully bent over, and satoru stared openly as he was still shooting such deep, frothy amounts inside of you.

you looked so pretty like this that he couldn’t help but mentally take a picture, widely peering at the foamy droplets of cum that started to trickle their way down his overwhelmed base—creating a sparkling white ring.

it’s still as thick - still as veiny, and satoru makes you raise your hips ever-so-slightly.

doing so, he stares at your soddened pussy that’s lewdly spitting out a few heaps of cum before hearing that cute wet ‘plop!’

“fuckin’ dirty girl..” he huffs, one hand softly caressing your waist beads. he takes a glance at the ‘G.S.’ initials that were engraved near the back side of the many other charms, and he sighs.

right as you’re pulled up to where his creamy tip was juuuust about to slide away from your soused opening, satoru gives your stuffed pussy a soft pat.

“don’t know who’s dirtier…. herrrr,” he mumbles, swabbing a thumb around your cum-covered hole before bringing it up to his mouth.

with a wet smacking ‘ccht’ of satoru’s lips coming together—he licks his thumb clean, cooing silently at the taste of himself like the filthy, filthy man he was. “or you.”

♡ ♡ ♡

after many, many positions, you found yourself losing multiple rounds with your shallow breath as if even breathing was a mere contest. he’s had you in position after position, folding you like a freshly baked pretzel. it’s almost like the two of you weren’t literally in a limousine.

you hoped his chauffeur nanami didn’t hear. that would’ve been well, embarrassing.

the drive felt like forever.. but, you honestly didn’t want it.. this to end.

you’re a mess, stuffed to the uttermost fullest with ribbons of satoru’s freshly hot cum messily tearing down every slick crevice of your thighs.

currently, satoru had you in one of his favorite positions.

doggy.

part of the reason why he loved it so much was mainly because of the perfect, jiggling view.

your ass - he loved seeing how it would react from each rude smack, swatting his palm over and over again at your cute, tender skin. the pads of your hands pressed firmly into the limo’s seats as he’s just giving you the pound of a damn lifetime.

“mngh!” you’d whine out, drooling from the sides of your jittery, spit-slick lips that refused to stay shut.

he’s effortlessly reaching all the right areas, swiftly pumping his way past that cute taut ring of your entrance that he’s grown to love.

that brief tight stretch nearly makes him lose his mind, and satoru then brings his hands toward your waist. “right there, right fuckin’ th— mmph!”

“shhh, you’re gonna.. hah- miss the best part, sweets,” the white-haired man cups a hand over your mouth.

slow strokes - deeper thrusts..

your eyes rolled ‘n rolled back, gasping against his palm once he sneaks a hand in between your wet thighs. with your waist beads tickling against his wrist, satoru gives your pussy a soft smack.

your wetness ‘splashes’ against the center of his hand, and it even pops out a cute sound too.

“uuugh- ‘m gonna… cum agaiiin,” you’d raise your ass in the air just a bit more, your voice turning more whiny within seconds.

your words were still a bit muffled with his hand covering your mouth, but he still made out your whiny, inaudible words—just barely. .

the sounds of fierce, sharp hips brutally clashing against skin every time made him groan. it’s a booming resounding ‘pop!’ or ‘pap!’ noise every time that makes your entire body ring instead of just your ears.

his cock’s searching through your wet, gripping walls as if it had some sort of life purpose.

“hah- me t.. too, sweetheart,” and fuck, satoru’s drowning in his sweat. “phew-” satoru brings the back of his wrist to wipe some from his forehead. glancing down, he stares at your jouncing ass before giving you one, snappingly deep thrust.

“pussy’s a fuckin’ workout- oh shiiiiit.” and satoru’s feeling you clamp clamp clamp down on him, giving his dick the work of its life.

you could feel the individual staticky pulses of your clit signaling messages to you that you’re just so close and you’re nearly salivating inside of your mouth.

soooo good.. for a moment you forgot the two of you were still in the back of a limousine.

he’s fucking you so good that you could barely think straight.

satoru’s still playing with your pussy, giving it spanks in between his robust thrusts.

his rotund tip beat red, an oxblood blush of red as he continued to ram a heart-shaped sloppy kiss toward your clit.

at that moment, your legs cutely retreated and your chest collapsed forward. “feels s.. sooo good satoru, ngh- ‘toruuu!”

as your body spasmed at the onslaught of his reckless, sloppy thrusts - your hips were all the way raised against his lap.

you’re losing track of thoughts as you’re harshly creaming down his shaft, murmuring out cute little babbles of ‘ooohs’ once you feel his angle deepen.

satoru brings a hand down your fleshy back, staring at your skin that was wetly decorated with sweat while studying the goosebumps that ran down your spine.

“ ‘m gonna.. hah- cum,” he groans, a few stubby fingers thrumming down the gold waist beads that wrapped around your waist.

he brings his thumb toward the tiny ‘G.S.’ initials before pressing his honed-shaped pelvis wholly into you with just a single, barbaric thrust.

“all mine, my pretty… hah- wife.”

wife?

you heard that — you definitely heard it, but part of you wondered if maybe satoru was just overly pussy drunk as usual.

but the thought alone - the thought of actually being his wife of satoru gojo, your sugar daddy, didn’t seem too bad.

as the image of you walking down the aisle crossed your mind, your throbbing brought you straight back into orgasmic reality.

“wait.. hnng- pull out,” you’d moan, another idea popping into your head. instead of satoru usually finishing inside, you had a better idea.

“haah- ‘kay,” he pants, his snapping hips working overtime as they continually mercilessly plunge deep into your heated core.

his rhythm was far slower, but his thrusts were always in such a hurried frenzy.

he’s close - so so close.

you’re still covered with his cum from before from the legs down, and it paints such a pretty canvas on you.

a lewd, erotic canvas maybe..

quickly, satoru ends up pulling out with a hand wrapped around his cock that painfully throbbed. it scrunched up a bit at the sudden coldness, already missing your clingy warmth before you flip over.

“h.. hm?”

“ ‘toru, put ‘em between here.” you spoke in a hushed tone, sinking your knees into the limo’s velveteen-made seats.

he hungrily stares at you with nothing but lust surrounding the entirety of his rounded, dilated pupils. at your sweet, breathy word of ‘here,’ you brought two hands up to your breasts.

“naughty… temptress,” satoru clicks his tongue. aligning his swollen dick in between the crack of your sweat-dripping chest, it easily sliiiiiides its way through.

he watches intently as you squeeze your tits together, glancing up at him with those pretty, siren eyes of yours that were starting to droop.

“mmh,” and as his tip disappears between the slot of your chest, you hang your head down, flicking your tongue across the tender slit of his shaft.

“f- fuck, ‘m gonna cum. can’t- hold it anymore, sweets,” satoru groans, his words so guttural ‘n low that they sounded almost like a growl.

he knew he wasn’t gonna last much longer, not when you were on your knees—stuffing his dick right between your perked tits.

he’s sloppily starting to thrust his cock in and out between the valley of your breasts and felt himself throb at each cute jounce they created amongst each other.

so …. soft.

satoru’s achy tip was forming into an angry shade of bloodshot red, and the entirety of his shaft was smoldering from the stimulation. after a few long milliseconds though—he finds himself shooting white blanks again.

he’s fucking between your tits as you held them together, spraying a nice sum of his load onto your chest. you gasp, a bit landing on your lip and you lick it.

satoru’s moaning - no, grunting as he’s finishing against your breasts. he drags a shaky hand through his tousled, white hair before letting off a deep, heavy sigh.

“ohhh… fuck,” he grumbles, the tips of his ears burning a fiery pink.

his limp cock now remains idle, still buried between your tits before you slide your tongue across the leaking creamed tip.

it’s so glossy, dribbling from all sides with his pasty mess plastered on the upper part of your chest. “didn’t know i had.. such a dirty sweethe- fuck.”

satoru pauses for theatrics — holding his breath, thinking he was still cumming, but he wasn’t.

his mind was simply playing tricks, and his jaw clenched once you lapped up the remnants of bittersweet tasting cum that splattered on you. you used your thumb to reach the spots your tongue couldn’t, and once you were finished, satoru bent down to pull you into a fervent, deep kiss.

you moaned against his lips as the limousine still created miles upon miles. you lost track of time, but you’d guess it’s probably been well over an hour's drive.

“mng-” satoru grunts into your lips, feeling your arms wrap around him. he still had his button-up shirt on the entire time along with his suit just above his torso. he’s tasting himself on your lips, grunting once he felt your hand tug on his ruffled black tie.

your tongue was sticky, swirling a circular pattern around the inside of his mouth before you sucked on his.

satoru allowed you to make him get underneath you, and he felt your legs crawling on top of him.

as you’re both still deeply making out — fighting each other with sharp slaps of teeth smacking against each other, you gingerly pull away.

“i’m your wife now?”

“h.. hm?”

“earlier,” you lick near the corner of his lip. “you said ‘m your pretty wife.”

satoru gives you a sleazy lopsided grin. he looked so pussy drunk that he almost forgot about that tiny piece of dialogue that spouted from his lips.

“ah, i did call you my wife, didn’t i, sweets?” and as a thumb caresses around your cheek, he hoarsely whispers. “well, do you want to be?”

bringing a wet, torrid kiss toward his bottom crooked lip, you hummed. “i do.”

“wish you would’ve told me sooner though,” he sheepishly says, giving his tie a few meek pulls. “i could’ve proposed the right way but.. this is fine too, i gues-.”

“shhh-” you silence him with yet another barrage of kisses, cupping his face.

satoru grunts, hearing the little jangles of your waist brands yet again as your hips laboriously swayed against him.

your forehead is pressed against his and its hit with a bunch of sweat from satoru.

satoru moans from your ardent, vehement kisses, his lips being left all plump, reddened, and not to mention swollen all because of you.

his dick twitches—a prominent vein striking near the left side as you steadily moved your dripping pussy against it in slow, ravishing rocks. “lie back,” you whispered, playfully pushing him back against the seat.

satoru reclines back with a ‘hmph’ and he raises a silvery brow at your audacity. “lie back ‘n let your fiancé ride you again.”

“heh.. yes, mrs. gojo.”

[lowkeyren]

—how to win my husband over 101

in which : you marry the ruthless prince of kremnos, and everyone says you'll never thaw his heart. but you’re nothing if not stubborn. surely all you have to do is win him over right? how hard can that be?

wc 8.7k (it’s worth it trust me), historical au, marriage of convenience, sunshine x grumpy, strangers to lovers, you fell first + he fell harder, fem reader referred to as “princess” / “milady”, ts burns so slow u might rip ur hair out sorry, heavily ib how to get my husband on my side. art by @/kannbergri on x.

surprise pookies @vxnuslogy @luvether @knnichs @kazucee it’s finally here!!!!

PROLOGUE: HOW TO SURVIVE THE EARLY DAYS

you married a stranger to save your homeland.

there was no love in the arrangement, no romantic vows exchanged beneath moonlit skies, no promises of forever whispered in soft voices. just firm handshakes and signatures inked on parchment. 

it was a straightforward agreement: kremnos would protect your people in exchange for a union, and you were sent to marry the crown prince, mydeimos, to solidify the alliance.

you had heard his name long before you ever saw his face. prince mydeimos of kremnos —a name whispered with reverence, with fear, with awe; carrying the weight of countless victories carved into the blood-soaked chaos of battlefields.

but none of those stories prepared you for the reality of him.

the grand hall of kremnos' palace feels colder than you imagined.

marble floors stretch endlessly beneath your feet, polished to a gleaming perfection that seems to reflect the distance between you and the life awaiting you here. the walls, adorned with banners of deep reds and golds, do little to warm the oppressive air.

servants pass by in hushed movements, their heads bowed, their whispers inaudible. the air carries the faint aroma of polished wood and lingering incense, yet there is no warmth to be found —not in the hall, not from the people, and certainly not from the man standing at the far end of the room.

you bow slightly out of instinct, a gesture of respect, though you feel foolish doing so in the context of your marriage.

dressed in the royal garb of kremnos, a deep red cloak embroidered with gold thread draped over his shoulders, his marigold eyes lock onto yours with piercing intensity. 

“princess,” he greets you, his words polished to a fault —exactly what you’d expect from a prince.

“your highness,” you reply, matching his formality.

“welcome to kremnos, i trust the journey was not too difficult.” 

it’s not a question, you realize. merely a statement to acknowledge your presence. you offer a polite nod, “the journey was smooth, your highness,” you reply, your voice steady despite the unease creeping into your chest. “thank you for your hospitality.”

you watch as he takes a glass of reddish liquid from a servant standing nearby, lifting it to his lips with ease, the vibrant color catching your eye.

the rich crimson hue seems too unnatural for something as mundane as wine. your gaze fixes on the glass as he drinks, a chill running down your spine as an unsettling thought creeps in.

is he drinking... blood?

your heart skips, a sudden nervousness, and you quickly avert your gaze, unable to meet his eyes.

he catches your stare however, “what is it that you find so fascinating?” 

flustered, you lower your head, stammering, "i... beg your pardon, your highness.”

you can feel your pulse quicken, the heat rising in your cheeks as you panic. the weight of his cold gaze is almost unbearable, and you fear you’ve already made a fool of yourself. 

for a moment, you dare not look at him, the silence stretching uncomfortably between you.

the prince casually wipes the red liquid from his lips with the back of his hand, as your eyes drift involuntarily toward the glass once more, still questioning its contents.

his eyes flicker to you as they narrow, “still curious?”

you freeze, wrecking your head for a sensible answer lest you further embarrass yourself.

with a sharp sigh, he places the glass down on the tray. “it’s pomegranate juice, nothing more.”

you blink, stunned for a moment, the absurdity of your previous assumption crashing down on you. 

“pomegranate juice,” you repeat softly, as if testing the words to see if they make sense.

“yes. is that so difficult to believe?”

that night, you lay on the luxurious bed in your chamber, the events of the evening swirling in your mind. you shake your head, embarrassed by your own overactive imagination. 

you turn onto your side, pulling the heavy blankets tighter around you, but sleep evades you.

yes, your husband is a man of few words, fewer emotions, and absolutely no warmth when it comes to you. yet within that frost lies a heart, waiting for the right touch to thaw it.

ACT I: HOW TO DRAW HIS ATTENTION

over the weeks, you've learned many peculiar things about your husband. 

you’ve noticed, for instance, that he always rises before dawn, and spends hours in the training grounds perfecting his form —an unyielding warrior at heart. or how he has an unusual preference for adding goat's milk to his pomegranate juice, a combination that strikes you as strange yet somehow fitting for him. 

you’ve also discovered that, contrary to expectations, he favors the color pink —an oddly delicate choice for a man so rigid in his demeanor. and while he is undeniably polite, he also remains stern and is not one to easily open up, not even to those closest to him.

all that you've learned, you’ve used in an attempt to earn his favor, though your effort often feels like trying to breach a concrete wall.

(one day, you deliberately rise early, before the sun fully breaks over the horizon, and make your way to the training grounds.

there, you find a concealed spot in the shadows, watching him spar with the guards. you’ve gone, in part, because you want him to know you care, but also because of the impressive display of his skill that subconsciously draws you in. 

it’s not long before he notices your presence; his expression remains impassive, but his gaze hardens, narrowing slightly as he observes you making your way to him from across the field.

as you finally reach him, you extend the water in your hand. but just as you take a step closer, your foot catches on an uneven stone. you stumble forward, crashing into him, and spilling the cold water across his chest. 

the gasp that escapes you is quickly followed by frantic apologies.

"princess," he says coolly, the water dripping from his toned muscles, tracing the lines of his broad shoulders and down his chest. "...are you always this clumsy, or is today a special occasion?"

ah. 

well at least he has jokes..?)

or after noticing how he often stays silent during meals, you decide to change the pace. 

(at the dining hall, you ask about his interests, but he only gives brief, impersonal responses; his attention fixed on his plate, quietly indulging in the honey-drenched pancakes. you try to make a lighthearted joke, but he doesn’t even look up, offering only a polite “i see” before the silence drapes over the table again.

so, you finally decide to try a more… direct approach —flattery. surely, no man can resist a little charm, right?

you lean close as you gather all the courage you can muster, batting your eyelashes at him hoping you appear as endearing as you intend.

"i must say, my dear husband, you —uh, you are unmatched in your… strength and wisdom. it’s no wonder my heart can’t help but be drawn to you..?”

well that didn’t exactly sound convincing. 

“and… your arms, they’re quite impressive. i mean —wait, that’s not what i meant—”

and that certainly didn’t make it any better!

you brace yourself, expecting a sharp rebuke or, at the very least, some irritation. but instead, he simply nods, offering a brief, detached “thank you” before turning his attention back to his meal. 

you immediately avert your gaze, feeling a pang of relief. though it’s strange to think that at any moment, your husband might decide to chop your head off for being so foolish (...if he felt so inclined) he is the crowned prince, after all; and while his politeness is unsettling, it’s still better than his wrath... right?)

either way, it’s clear that your efforts have made not the slightest dent. better luck next time!

today will be different.

failure has never sat well with you, and after last night’s mortifying attempt at charming your husband, you refuse to let things end on such a dismal note. if words fail, then perhaps actions will speak louder.

so, with a woven basket tucked under your arm, you wander through the palace gardens first, where roses and marigolds flourish in a riot of color, their petals unfurling like delicate silk under the afternoon sun. honeysuckle vines twist gracefully around the trellises, their sweet fragrance lingering in the warm afternoon air.

you kneel amidst the blooms, fingers brushing over soft petals, feeling the gentle give of each flower beneath your touch. carefully, you pluck a few of each, tucking them gently into your basket, mindful of their fragile stems. you arrange them just so, already picturing the bouquet coming together in your hands.

but as you wander further, you find yourself drawn toward the edge of the estate. past the hedgerows and beyond the garden’s stone pathway, you notice something that catches your eye, a cluster of wildflowers —soft pinks and gentle whites.

perfect! these will be the finishing touch to complete your bouquet for mydeimos.

pleased with yourself, you smile and make your way toward the water’s edge. leaning forward, you stretch out to pluck one, your body lowering toward the ground, shifting your weight slightly, when—

a sudden force slams into your back.

the breath is knocked clean from your lungs. there's no time to react as the world tilts violently, and before you can even scream, the cold shock of water swallows you whole.

it’s deeper than you thought.

icy water rushes into your nose and mouth, sending a searing burn down your throat. panic grips you as the world above fractures into shimmering light, distorted by the rippling surface. you try to push yourself up, but alas, the weight of your dress still drags you down. 

as you thrash around uselessly, your limbs start growing heavier. the surface above you slips further away; and the last thing you register is the sensation of strong arms wrapping around you —with a final strained breath, your vision dims to nothingness.

the next thing you feel is warmth.

your head rests against something solid, a steady rise and fall beneath your cheek .a firm hold keeps you close, one braced securely around your back, the other hooked beneath your knees. 

you blink sluggishly, your lashes heavy with water. that’s when you realise, you’re in the arms of your husband.

his hair clings to his forehead, damp strands framing the sharp angles of his face. droplets trace slow paths down his jawline, soaking into the dark fabric of his tunic —leaving nothing to the imagination.

for a moment, disoriented and breathless, you can only blink up at him.

did he jump in after you..?

“why did you wander off alone?” he chastises, snapping you back to reality. 

your throat feels tight, your heart hammering in your chest. "i-i just wanted to do something for you!" the confession spills from your lips, desperate, your fingers clinging instinctively to the soaked fabric of his sleeve. 

it’s foolish, maybe, but you’re still reeling —from the near drowning, from the fact that mydeimos saved you. 

he exhales sharply, exasperation heavy in his breath. "why are you like this…" his grip tightens on you, but there’s a tension in his voice as if he’s swallowing something he can’t quite put into words. “didn’t i say there’s no need to attract attention this way?"

the accusation stings, your brows knit together as you shake your head, droplets of water slipping down your temples. "i just… thought you’d like some flowers."

his fingers, still curled beneath your back, twitch slightly, his hold unconsciously steadying you.

“you don’t need to do anything reckless just to get my attention," he murmurs at last, his voice softer now, no longer edged with frustration. then, almost hesitantly, he adds, "...if you want something, just come to me."

mydeimos shifts, adjusting his hold on you before finally rising to his feet. the movement is effortless, but even so, a sharp chill runs through you as the air bites at your damp skin. before you can fully steady yourself, he places you down, his hands lingering for a second longer than necessary before withdrawing.

your dress clings uncomfortably to you, heavy with water, and when you glance down, you spot the basket lying a short distance away, half-tilted on the grass. the flowers you so carefully picked are scattered around it, petals crumpled, stems bent. 

a pit forms in your stomach. all that effort, and now—

a shadow moves beside you. mydeimos steps forward, the hem of his cloak grazing against the fallen blooms. he considers them for a moment, then looks back at you.

“well?” his voice is steady, and you can’t quite grasp the intention behind it. “you went through all that trouble to gather the flowers… aren’t you going to give them to me?”

sure they're not nearly as perfect as they were when you first picked them. still, you kneel, fingers brushing over the damp grass as you carefully pick up the least damaged flowers, smoothing out the crumpled petals as best you can.

“…here.” slowly, hesitantly, you extend the bouquet towards him. 

his fingers brush against yours as he accepts the flowers. “sorry they’re ruined,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper.

he shakes his head, unbothered. “they’re mine now, so i’ll take care of them.”

there’s no mockery in his expression, no disdain for your failed efforts. if anything, there’s something almost unreadable in the way he looks at you, something that makes your heart lurch against your ribs.

he spares you one last glance, then turns. “come. you need to get changed before you fall ill.”

and just like that, your husband walks ahead, idly twirling one of the flowers between his fingers. hardened steel and soft petals, strength and fragility; it doesn't look out of place. 

somehow, it fits him too well.

ACT II: HOW TO CARE FOR A WARRIOR

once a year, the empire erupts into feverish anticipation for the annual gladiatorial tournament. a traditional competition of strength, bloodshed, and sheer willpower.

held in the heart of the capital, within the city of kremnos; warriors from across the kingdom —such as knights from noble houses, seasoned mercenaries, and ambitious upstarts, all gather within the grand coliseum, each vying for glory, honor, or a place in history.

and three weeks from now, the coliseum will roar with life, filled to the brim with nobles and commoners alike, all eager to witness the blood and glory that’ll unfold within the arena. 

the tournament may be weeks away, but mydeimos knows better than to grow complacent. 

within the castle training grounds, the clash of steel echoes through the air, each strike reverberating like a war drum. two figures move in relentless rhythm, locked in a sparring match that is as much a dance as it is a battle.

mydeimos meets his opponent’s strike head-on; phainon, captain of the royal knights, his equal in skill if not in strength, matches him blow for blow. the force of the impact ripples through his arm, but he does not waver. instead, he swiftly pivots, forcing mydeimos onto the defensive.

the crown prince presses forward, his sword carving ruthless arcs through the air, a feint —then a sudden, brutal swing aimed at his opponent’s side. 

phainon barely manages to parry, their blades grinding against each other in a fierce deadlock. exhaling sharply through his nose, he holds firm against the pressure. “mydei,” phainon mutters, breathless. “don't hold back."

mydei’s gaze remains unreadable, but there’s a flicker of something —amusement, perhaps, before he abruptly shifts his weight. with a sharp twist, he breaks the deadlock.

“HKS,” he counters, shoving forward with enough strength to force phainon back a step. “getting tired?”

phainon lets out a short laugh, adjusting his stance. “not in the slightest.” he disengages, spinning his blade in a quick counterstrike.

alas, the fight reaches no clear victor, ending in yet another stalemate.

exhaling, phainon lowers his blade. “not bad.”

but before mydei can respond; a slow, warm trickle down his arm draws his attention. his gaze flickers downward —a thin slash mars his bicep, blood welling along the cut.

the knight’s expression shifts, eyes catching on the wound. “heh looks like i take the win this time,” he gloats, though there’s a slightest hint of concern in his tone. 

“...though i do apologise, your highness,” phainon says, eyeing the wound with a tilt of his head.

mydei rolls his shoulder, testing the ache, then huffs. “nothing to be sorry for.” his lips curl slightly, eyes flicking back to phainon.

“but don’t think this means i’m letting you off easy. we’ll settle it properly next time.”

“oh? and here i thought you’d take the loss with dignity for once,” phainon snorts, sheathing his blade in one smooth motion. “but i suppose i wouldn’t want you growing too accustomed to losing.”

“you land one lucky hit and suddenly you’re talking like you’ve dethroned me.” mydei scoffs, already turning toward the weapons rack. phainon watches him go, shaking his head to himself before following suit. 

mydei doesn’t know why you’re worrying so much.

the cut is insignificant, to him at least. within hours, it’ll be gone —his body already stitching itself back together. he doesn’t need tending to, least of all by you.

and yet, here you are.

as you sit beside him, your hands deftly press a cloth soaked in cool water to his wound, cleaning away the dried blood with careful strokes. for some reason, seeing you like this —fussing over him with a tenderness he’s never quite experienced before —renders him quiet.

“…you’re frowning,” he murmurs.

“because you’re hurt,” you say as a matter of factly, setting the cloth aside before reaching for a bandage. your fingers are gentle as they smooth it over his skin, lightly tracing the curves of his biceps.

he watches the way your lips press together, tying the final knot with a delicate tug, patting the fabric down as if to reassure yourself that it will hold.

something tugs at the edge of his mind. 

you’ve pretended to love him ever since you stepped foot in kremnos; he thought he knew every expression you wore, every feigned tenderness. but this —this time, it’s different. there’s no audience here, no need for the carefully crafted role of the adoring wife.

so why do you still look at him like that?

his breath stills. he doesn’t know what to make of this.

“…please be more careful next time.” mydei glances at his arm, the ache is already fading.

you don’t know how pointless all of this is. by morning, there won’t even be a scar.

you exhale softly, your brows still furrowed in concern. then, as if unable to help yourself, your fingertips ghost over the bandage, smoothing it down with a tenderness that makes his chest tighten.

“does it still hurt?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

he should say no. he should tell you it’s nothing.

but when he looks at you —sees the way your eyes linger on him, so earnestly unguarded. he falters. 

“…not much,” he admits instead. “you act as if i’m on death’s door.”

“and you act as if you’re invincible,” you retort softly.

he freezes.

he almost laughs at the irony of it —because in some ways, you aren’t wrong. his body will always mend itself, his wounds never lasting long enough to be of real consequence. 

but his darling wife doesn’t know that.

and perhaps that’s why he lets you worry, lets you dote on him with such sweet, unknowing devotion. because, against all logic —against everything he’s told himself, he finds that he likes it.

your touch finally retreats, hands settling in your lap. “i’ll leave you to rest, your highness.”

you rise from your seat, and as you turn to leave, mydei catches himself watching the space where your hands had been, the phantom warmth still resting against his skin.

for a wound that’s already gone, he finds it strange —how reluctant he is to let it fade.

ACT III: HOW TO AVOID MISUNDERSTANDINGS

"sir phainon, thank you for showing me around the city," you say, offering the man beside you a faint smile as you step around a corner. 

the knight dips his head, “of course, milady. the pleasure’s all mine."

you’re glad phainon took time off to accompany you —wandering the city alone would’ve definitely left you lost and stewing in your own thoughts. 

phainon glances at you, amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth. "but i’m surprised his highness let you wander the city with another man," he muses. 

you let out a small laugh, running your fingers along the petals of a flower display as you pass by. "well, i don’t think he cares."

phainon’s steps slow, his brow lifting ever so slightly, as if he isn’t sure whether he misheard you or if you’re simply playing coy. "you don’t think he—" he exhales a sharp chuckle, running a hand through his hair. "hah. now that’s funny."

you shoot a puzzled look at him,"what is?"

to phainon, who’s seen the way mydei looks at you, heard the way he speaks of you; your words make no sense at all.

—but he holds his tongue. "nothing, milady. let’s keep walking before i say something i shouldn’t."

the warmth of the moment sours when you round a corner near the market square. there, just past a cluster of gossiping nobles, mydei stands stiffly, arms crossed as he listens to a young woman speak.

you recognize her —a lady-in-waiting that serves in the palace.

“…always playing the victim,” she sneers, voice pitched just loud enough to draw attention. “everyone pities her, but really, she’s just an outsider to kremnos—” 

your steps falter, confusion flickering across your face. is that lady… talking about you?

“she was never worthy of standing by his highness’s side!” the lady continues with simpering disdain. 

beside you, your companion stiffens, his fingers subtly curling at his sides. he’s noticed, too.

but before you can fully process the words, she lets out a haughty laugh. “she tripped herself that day. i only gave her a little push and—”

“what?” mydei’s voice cuts through the air, his eyes narrowing. 

the lady startles, whipping around to face him, but quickly smooths her expression into one of feigned innocence. “y-your highness…” she lowers her head just slightly. “i only meant that a mere nudge shouldn’t have been enough to send her stumbling so helplessly.” 

she offers a small, demure smile. “unless, of course, one lacks the grace befitting a princess.”

“it was unfortunate that your highness was troubled because of—” 

her words trail off as her gaze flicks to the side, right where you stand.

and in that fleeting moment, mydei follows her line of sight.

your breath catches. you hadn’t meant to be seen.

a small, almost imperceptible smirk forms on her lips; just as mydei glances to your side, his attention diverted for a split second; she falls toward him, her body angling toward him in a way that all but demands he steady her.

you feel a jolt of realization —her intentions are clear as day towards you. 

mydei’s eyes barely flicker as she topples toward him, but his hand moves —not to steady her, as she so clearly intended, but to seize her wrist in a firm, unyielding grip.

with a sharp tug, he wrenches her upright, the motion not even close to an act of chivalry. 

a startled gasp slips past her lips, her wide eyes darting up, stunned by the strength of his hold. the gathered onlookers murmur amongst themselves as the prince fixes her with a cold, unreadable stare.

“tell me. are you purposely trying to cause a misunderstanding between me and my wife?”

the lady blanches, her mouth opening and closing as she scrambles for a response. “y-your highness, i would never—”

“spare me the excuses.” his fingers uncoil, and she stumbles back, barely catching herself.  she cradles her wrist as though burned, whether from pain or humiliation, it’s hard to tell.

“guards.” mydeimos doesn’t raise his voice, but the command rings clear. two armored figures stationed nearby immediately step forward,  “take her away.”

 “y-your highness, i only—”

mydeimos doesn’t even spare her a glance as he delivers the lady’s fate. “for daring to put her hands on the princess, she is to be punished accordingly. let this serve as a reminder, such conduct has no place in my court.”

the color drains from her face as the guards seize her by the arms, her protests falling on deaf ears. the onlookers part to make way, some exchanging knowing glances, others whispering amongst themselves.

then mydeimos’ gaze softens —only slightly, in your direction. 

phainon leans in, “and yet, milady insists that his highness does not care?”

but you don’t respond, heart fluttering traitorously in your chest as mydeimos turns on his heel and strides toward you.

with a small tilt of his head, he nods to phainon before finally speaking.

“she was desperate,” he remarks, voice edged with dry amusement. “did you see how she threw herself at me? pitiful.”

he studies you for a moment, something unreadable flickering behind his gaze. “...you weren’t fooled, were you?”

you blink, caught off guard by his question. “of course not, your highness.”

ah. was he worried you’d misunderstand?

his lips part slightly, but no words come, instead he just exhales softly, as if to himself. “good.”

phainon, ever perceptive, arches a brow but says nothing of it. instead, he steps back with a knowing tilt of his head. “well then, i shall take my leave. duty calls, after all, milady, your highness.” with that, he turns on his heel and disappears into the crowd, leaving just the two of you.

mydei’s eyes linger on you —searching, almost reluctant, before he finally tears his gaze away. “we should go.”

he starts walking, and you follow, the quiet rhythm between you shifting in a way that's hard to place. it’s subtle, so subtle that if you weren’t paying enough attention, you might’ve missed it. 

the way his steps fall in sync with yours, slowing his usually large strides ever so slightly,  as if unconsciously matching your pace. the way his hand hovers near yours, close enough that if you swayed even slightly, your fingers might brush.

it doesn’t feel intentional, and yet, it doesn’t feel like an accident either.

the marketplace hums around you both; vendors calling out their wares, the scent of fresh bread and spices curling through the air. but your mind is elsewhere, lingering on the man beside you, on the things left unsaid.

at some point, curiosity gets the better of you. “your highne—” “mydei.”

…would it be foolish of you to think of it as a plea? that, beneath the indifference he wears so well, he cares how his name sounds when spoken by you?

(because with you, he doesn't need to be the prince of kremnos, nor the valiant warrior they call mydeimos. he’s just your husband, mydei.)

you glance up at him, but his gaze stays ahead. he doesn’t offer an explanation; your thoughts linger on that single word, and maybe that’s why, after a moment’s hesitation, you decide to give it a try.

“mydei… what were you doing in the market today?”

he doesn’t answer right away. a terribly fond smile tugging at his lips. 

he looks good like this, you think.

with a glance to the side, he replies, “nothing of importance.”

a half-truth, at best.

your thoughts drift back to the last time you were here —the flowers you had given him, bright and delicate in his hands. an odd sight, perhaps, yet somehow, they suited him.

a ridiculous thought takes root before you can stop it.

could he have been looking for ways to take care of them? …surely not.

but any doubt vanishes the moment a florist calls out to him. “your highness! you’ve returned! here, this is the care guide you requested, along with the special fertilizer. it should help the flowers bloom beautifully.”

mydei takes the offered items with a nod, thanking the florist who beams, clearly pleased to be of service.

"you must truly cherish them, your highness," they remark. "not many would go through such trouble for a simple bouquet."

mydei only hums in response, tucking the items away as he turns back to you. for a moment, it almost seems like he might explain himself, but instead, he merely lifts a brow, as if daring you to say something about it.

warmth unfurls at the edges of your chest, spreading slowly, irresistibly.

you press your lips together, fighting the smile threatening to surface. "so," you muse lightly, "you’ve been taking good care of my flowers?”

mydei exhales, the ghost of an amused smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "it would be a shame if they wilted so soon,” he says. then, as he starts walking again, a quiet afterthought —so soft you almost miss it.

"especially when they were a gift from you."

and this time, when his hand hovers close to yours, you don’t resist the urge to let your fingers brush.

ACT IV: HOW TO TAME HIS JEALOUS HEART

it’s late —past the hour most would retire, yet the training grounds remains lit by torches that flicker against the cool stone walls, their flames casting long, dancing shadows. mydeimos leans back against the walls, arms loosely folded across his chest as his gaze follows phainon sharpening his blade a few paces away —though, truthfully, his thoughts are elsewhere.

it’s phainon who breaks the silence first.

“you know,” he starts, glancing up without looking directly at the prince, “you’re awfully quiet these days, your highness.”

he wipes his sword down lazily, throwing a glance over his shoulder. "...say, mydei."

mydei doesn’t look up, but his posture shifts, "what?"

phainon lets the silence drag for a moment, almost like he’s weighing his next words. 

“do you have genuine feelings for [name]?"

the words land like a blow in the silence between them; he doesn’t bother to wait for an answer.

“because if you don’t, i was thinking maybe i’d give courting her a try.”

ah. that does it.

mydei’s eyes flick to him, and if looks could kill, phainon would be six feet under —and the former wouldn’t even spare the effort to toss dirt over his grave.

phainon laughs quietly under his breath at his comrade’s reaction, not bothering to hide the tilt of his mouth. 

“don’t cross the line.” the words fall from mydei’s lips, low and clipped like a warning.

phainon laughs —the kind of laugh shared only between men who’ve known each other long enough to grow used to the other’s sharp edges.

“relax,” he drawls, sheathing his blade with a lazy flick. “i was just joking, you can stop glaring at me now.”

“i’m not mad i—”

“you’re not mad because you think i meant it,” he cuts in. “you’re angry because you know i’m right. you’ve been walking around pretending like she doesn’t mean a thing to you, bottling up every damn thing you feel for her. if it were anyone else, they’d have given up by now.”

mydei looks away. “she’s not anyone else,” he mutters. 

phainon smiles. “then tell her.”

mydei stays uncharacteristically silent as phainon steps past with a clap on his shoulder. “you're lucky she’s patient.”

the sour look on your husband’s face whenever phainon’s name comes up is a recent development. 

you first noticed it in passing: an almost imperceptible downturn of his lips, a restrained (but still noticeable) eyeroll or the press of his lips into a tight line. at first, you thought nothing of it. but lately… it’s been happening a lot.

right now, you’re seated in the castle’s sunlit tea room with someone you can now call a friend —phainon. the scent of fresh brews curls in the air, warm and comforting, but it does little to soothe the frustration tightening in your chest.

phainon leans back in his seat as you lay your troubles before him. surely, as one of mydei’s closest friends, he could offer some worthwhile advice on how to win the latter’s heart.

because at this rate, if you don’t manage to win him over before your contract runs its course, you wouldn’t be surprised to wake up with his sword cold against the nape of your neck.

“so… what do you think?” you ask, poking at a pastry with your fork.

phainon hums, tilting his head in thought. “he’s a reserved man —you’ve probably figured that out by now. give him some time, he’s the type to take forever to realize what’s right in front of him.”

he shrugs, a smirk tugging at his lips. “though, i do hope milady won’t give up on him just yet.”

you nod, committing his words to memory, but then he suddenly straightens, that familiar glint of mischief lighting his gaze.

“actually,” he muses, glancing down at his hands, now dusted with crumbs and icing, “my hands are a bit of a mess from this cake. mind doing me a favor?” 

he lifts his sugar-coated fingers in emphasis.

you eye him suspiciously. “...what kind of favor?”

phainon tilts his head, his smile just sly enough to make you wary. “feed me.”

narrowing your eyes, you scoff at his request, “look, buster—”

“just this once,” he interrupts, grinning. “think of it as repaying me for my advice.”

there’s something almost too innocent about the way he leans in, like he’s well aware of what he’s doing… or rather, what exactly might happen if a certain someone were to walk in.

still, with an exaggerated sigh, you pick up a piece of pastry and lift it towards him—

only for a firm grip to catch your wrist before you can.

just your luck.

mydei smoothly takes the sweet straight from your fingers, his lips brushing against your fingertips in the process; his gaze locked onto yours as he takes a bite. 

and before you can pull away —the barest hint of his tongue swipes against the sugar-dusted tips of your fingers, licking away the faint trace of sweetness left behind.

did he just—?

heat rushes to your face. your mouth parts, but no sound comes out.

phainon whistles lowly. “oh yeah i forgot to mention,” he says, far too amused.

“the prince has a sweet tooth.”

for a moment, the only sound in the room is the soft clink of porcelain as phainon sets down his teacup, watching the scene unfold with thinly veiled amusement.

all you can do is stare —frozen, pulse skittering in your throat. 

mydei, on the other hand, is utterly unbothered. if anything, he looks as composed as ever, chewing leisurely, as if he didn’t just—

your fingers twitch in his grasp. finally, he releases your wrist, his touch lingering just a second too long before he pulls away.

you snatch your hand back like you’ve been burned, curling your fingers against your palm as if that will erase the phantom heat of his lips, the fleeting press of his tongue.

phainon wonders if he’s about to be thrown out of the castle with the way you and mydei glare at him (for different reasons, respectively)... but judging by his smirk, he finds the risk well worth it.

the annual gladiatorial tournament is only days away, and kremnos is already stirring with anticipation. you’ve heard the chatter in the halls, the wagers placed on champions, the hushed whispers of which warriors will rise and which will fall. 

seated on a bench near the training grounds, you let the rhythmic clash of weapons fade into background noise, your focus trained instead on the fabric in your hands. a delicate handkerchief, its edges carefully stitched, the embroidery thread gliding through with each careful motion of your needle.

you had learned from a few noble ladies: it’s tradition for warriors to receive tokens of fortune from their beloveds —most commonly, a handkerchief embroidered with care to carry into battle as a reminder that someone’s waiting for them to return.

before you, the clash of steel rings out as two men spar. you glance up just in time to see phainon nimbly dodge a particularly heavy swing, a grin tugging at his lips. “feeling a little aggressive today, aren’t we?”

mydei doesn’t respond. he simply readjusts his grip on his sword, his expression unreadable.

(if you had to put money on why mydei was more aggressive than usual, you’d wager it had something to do with that stunt phainon pulled a few days ago that had left the former in such a foul mood.)

you return to your stitching, pretending not to notice the way your husband’s eyes flicker toward you between exchanges. unknowingly, a small smile tugs at your lips as you press the needle through the cloth once more.

rumors had circulated for years that prince mydeimos had never once accepted a handkerchief from anyone. not from the ladies who fawned over him at court, not from the admirers who sighed at the sight of his swordsmanship, not even from those with the highest of pedigrees.

it was said that no handkerchief had ever found its way into his hands, let alone remained in his possession. you weren’t sure why; perhaps he found them frivolous, or maybe he had no interest in sentimental keepsakes when he relied on skill alone to survive.

…which didn’t exactly bode well for the one currently in your hands.

so as you carefully stitch your embroidery, you don’t hold out much hope that he’ll accept yours either. 

still, it wouldn’t do for the beloved wife of mydeimos to be the only one who hadn’t even offered her husband a handkerchief. whether he accepted it or not was secondary —your duty was to at least play the part expected of you.

as the sparring match winds down, mydei steps off to the side, catching his breath. you discreetly watch as him roll his shoulders, wiping a sheen of sweat from his brow.

you glance back down at your embroidery, but before you can add another stitch, phainon strides up to you, shaking out his arms with an exaggerated sigh. “ow… you saw that, right?” he whines, flopping down beside you with an exaggerated sigh. “he’s being so rough with me today!”

you arch a brow, biting back a laugh as he leans against the edge of the bench. “poor thing,” you say, amused. “what did you do to deserve it?”

phainon grins. “absolutely nothing, milady.”

you shake your head, obviously unconvinced —but then, just like that, his playful pout melts into a coprophagous grin that spells nothing but trouble. 

oh no.

“if he wants to be mean,” he muses, tilting his head, “then maybe i should give him a reason for it.”

you frown. “phainon—”

he says, far too casually, “i think i’ve got an idea.”

he leans in slightly, a wolfish grin on his face. “just play along, alright?”

“huh?”

"here, let me show you something." before you can react, phainon takes your hand, pulling you up from your seat with ease. a moment later, a wooden practice sword is tossed into your grasp.

you barely have time to protest before he’s already behind you, his hands resting lightly over yours as he adjusts your grip.

"see?" his voice is low, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath near your ear. "you hold it like this, and—"

“that’s enough.”

both you and phainon turn to see mydei standing a few feet away. he doesn’t look outwardly furious, but there’s the tension in his shoulders says enough.

phainon merely raises an eyebrow. “oh? something wrong, your highness?”

the air thickens and you can practically feel the sparks flying. sensing the storm that’s about to break, you quickly slip out of phainon’s grasp and rush toward mydei, practically throwing yourself into his arms.

“mydei!” you call, mustering the sweetest voice you can manage, hoping to calm him down (before phainon gets his ass kicked again). “y-you must be exhausted after all that training today… why don’t we head back and get some rest?” 

a warm hand brushes against your temple, fingers gently threading through your hair as they tuck it behind your ear. 

even though you were the one who threw yourself at mydei, you find yourself frozen, heart hammering at the unexpected tenderness in his touch. 

his gaze is so unbearably soft.

after a moment, mydei exhales and nods before leading you away.

you steal a glance back at phainon—who only winks and flashes you a thumbs-up.

(mydei lets out a quiet sigh of relief, watching as you do everything in your power to avoid meeting his eyes. if he had stayed any longer and if phainon had caught sight of the faint flush dusting his cheeks —he’d never hear the end of it.)

ACT V: HOW TO EARN HIS DEVOTION

the sun hangs high above kremnos, casting a golden blaze over the arena as the city wakes to the sound of distant drums and the clang of steel. colorful banners bearing the insignias of noble houses flutter from towering spires, while anticipation clings thick to the air.

all of kremnos knows what day it is. the long-awaited gladiatorial tournament has finally arrived.

from the highest nobles draped in silk to the lowest commoners pressed shoulder-to-shoulder in the stands, all eyes are drawn to the bloodstained sand at the heart of the arena. 

the rules are simple, brutal, unforgiving: fight until your opponent yields, or until they can no longer stand. and of course, there's no word for “mercy” in the kremnoan language… as mydei would say it.

the air in the holding chambers, hidden beneath the grand coliseum, is heavy with the scent of iron and sweat. you step inside with your small offering in hand: the handkerchief you embroidered, each stitch woven with thoughts of him.

and today, you see you’re not alone. the corridor is packed with people, mostly noblewomen, some nervous sweethearts, all fluttering around their chosen champions, many bearing the same tradition in their palms.

you catch sight of more than a few stretching their handkerchiefs out to mydei, vying for even a small glance. a small crowd trails him like petals in a storm, calling his name with saccharine lilts, each desperate to be noticed.

with the way he’s being swarmed, you resign yourself with a small sigh, clutching your own handkerchief, fingers curling gently around the cloth you spent the last few evenings stitching. 

nevermind. maybe you’ll give it to phainon instead. he always appreciates the gesture, and at the very least, you’d get a smile out of him.

so your eyes scan the crowd instead, searching for—

only to freeze when you look up and see someone else already standing in front of you.

without a word, your husband takes the handkerchief from your hand, presses it to his brow, and dabs away the sweat collecting at his temple; then folds it neatly and tucks it into his belt where everyone can see.

you blink, momentarily startled.

warmth spills into your chest, it’s strange. he never accepts handkerchiefs from anyone. not a single soul has ever earned that privilege. but today, in front of all these people, he’s taken yours without a second thought.

it’s a light gesture, but it says enough coming from the kremnoan prince. 

and if he’s going to make such a bold move, you might as well tease him a little.

you tilt your head, a mischievous smile playing at your lips. “that’s sir phainon’s, you know.”

he stills for a moment, a flash of annoyance crossing his face before he furrows his brows in an almost adorable pout. 

“then he’ll just have to go without,” he mutters.

you’ve never seen him look quite like this before —caught off guard and... flustered?

“... and i wanted one today.”

“well, since you’ve gone through all that trouble,” you say with a grin, “i suppose i’ll let you keep it.”

as you study him, a thought crosses your mind. you raise an eyebrow, “are you nervous about the tournament?”

his eyes flick to yours, “there is no word for ‘fear’ in the kremnoan language,” he replies, his voice low and confident. 

it’s the kind of thing only mydeimos would say. and yet, something about the resolve in his eyes makes your heart skip a beat.

you manage a soft smile. “then bring back the victor’s crown for me, will you?”

honestly it's more of a vow than a request, you’d be content just seeing him return in one piece. but he takes it seriously anyway. 

“if it’s for you,”

his expression softens for just a moment, and without missing a beat, he nods, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“i’d do anything.”

ACT VI: HOW TO BE VICTORIOUS

from your seat among the nobles, your gaze searches for him. the threads of your dress pinched between trembling fingers, creased from how often you’ve clutched it. 

ever since you’ve come to kremnos, you’ve grown used to the sound of battle, but today every strike echoes a little louder in your ears. 

your heart clenches every time mydei stumbles or blood splashes across the sand. even knowing how strong he is, how capable, there’s a twist of worry that doesn’t loosen its grip. 

the kind you only feel when the person you care about is the one walking straight into danger.

you’d heard stories of what the tournament demands, but seeing it for yourself… it’s surreal. 

the crowd cheers for violence.

warriors enter the arena one by one, facing off not only against each other, but against beasts dragged from the darkest corners of the empire —corrupted titankins, two-headed hounds, massive golems wreathed in flame; just to name a few.

and each time, the gates crash open with a deafening clang, releasing something more vicious than the last. still, he doesn’t falter. when a snarling beast lunges for his throat, he drives his sword deep into its ribs without a second thought. 

the nobles cheer and holler around you, drunk on spectacle. but your eyes don’t leave him, not for a moment.

because while the crowd may be here for blood, all you want… 

is to be the first thing mydei sees when it’s over.

the last of the other competitors lie in heaps of blood and sand, either devoured by the beasts or incapacitated by the prince. there’s no one left to challenge him except the creature before him.

the towering beast staggers toward him; your pulse spikes, hands gripping the edge of your seat as you hold your breath. every step it takes sends tremors through the arena floor, snarls echoing off stone as it bears down on him with a murderous roar.

the beast lunges, jaws snapping wide, but mydei meets it with unyielding resolve. his sword arcs through the air, a flash of silver against the blood-soaked dusk. the beast jerks, a guttural screech tearing from its throat as it rears back. 

for a heartbeat, you can't tell who’s fallen.

then, through the settling haze, you see mydei standing, blood splattered across his armor, chest heaving with exertion. the beast lets out a final screech —and then crumples to the sand in a thunderous collapse.

for a heartbeat, there’s silence. and then the crowd erupts into a deafening cheer.

“mydei!” you cry out, your heart racing as you push through the sea of people to get closer.

he lifts his gaze, and it’s you he finds.

the victor’s crown, gleaming beneath the sun, is placed into his hands. and he raises it high above his head for all to see. 

a roar erupts from the coliseum, the crowd surging to its feet as the name mydeimos echoes from every corner, chanted with unrelenting fervor.

and without hesitation, he strides toward you, his face softening as he approaches.

in a flash, he wraps an arm around your waist and hauls you into his arms, lifting you effortlessly off the ground. he spins you in a wide, sweeping circle before drawing you close. his eyes locking with yours, a triumphant grin playing on his lips. 

with a tenderness that belies his warrior's demeanor, he leans down and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.

"yours," mydei whispers. he lifts the victor’s crown in both hands, and with all the devotion of a man offering his heart, places it gently atop your head.

you reach up to his bloodied face, your hand trembling slightly as the warmth of his skin seeps into your fingers. your palm comes to rest against his cheek.

“you came back to me,” you murmur.

he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut for the briefest moment —like he’s been waiting for this, aching for it.

“i always will.”

you rise onto your toes, closing the distance between you.

at the end of the day, all mydei seeks is not victory or glory, but the soft sound of his name on the lips of his beloved, wrapped in an embrace that makes him forget the harshness of the battlefield.

EPILOGUE: HOW TO WIN HIM OVER

the question that once haunted your thoughts —how could i ever win his heart? —feels like a distant memory now, an answer long since found.

mydei looks at you with a softness in his eyes that you’ve come to know as a rare gift. his hand, calloused from battles fought and won, reaches for yours, his fingers brushing against yours before entwining it. 

“by the way, i’m actually… immortal. my injuries heal up after a while.”

you blink at him in confusion, and he chuckles softly, the sound warm and fond.

“wait, then that time when you—” you pause, recalling the night you carefully wrapped up his injury.

he grins, a small, playful glint in his eyes. ”i just like the way you worry over me.”

the admission leaves a flutter in your chest as his thumb gently strokes the back of your hand. 

you huff, pretending to be upset, though your heart races at the softness in his words. “you mean to say all that time i was worried sick over you for nothing?”

he tilts his head, feigning innocence. “it wasn’t for no reason,” he says, clearly trying not to smile. “i liked it. still do.”

you narrow your eyes, lips tugging into a pout. “well, you could’ve told me sooner! now i feel ridiculous.”

with a soft chuckle, mydei’s fingers brush through your hair in a gentle, almost apologetic gesture. he ruffles it lightly, his touch surprisingly tender. “you’re adorable when you’re upset,” he murmurs, his voice holding a sweetness that makes your heart skip a beat.

you can’t help but soften, the playful anger fading as his hand lingers for a moment longer. he pulls you a little closer, his forehead gently resting against yours. “don’t be mad. i’ll let you fuss over me for as long as you want, as long as you’re by my side.”

“you better mean that! i’m holding you to it.”

he hums, the sound low and content as he presses a kiss to your temple. “i do,” he whispers. “if there’s one thing i’ll always be sure of, it’s you.”

you think back to every hesitation, every guarded glance, the walls he built high around his heart. and now, that same heart rests in your hands. 

“looks like i managed to win you over after all,” you tease softly.

the way he looks at you says more than words ever could —as if you’re the only war he’s ever been glad to lose.

his fingers stay curled around yours; his heart laid bare with the quiet, breathtaking certainty that he is yours, as much as you are his.

"i love you, [name]."

and if this is victory, it’s the sweetest one yet.

thank you for reading!! reblogs are appreciated <3

MASTERLIST

[cuntyji]

implied fem reader + one night stand turned -> baby daddy sukuna | modern au, slight angst and mentions of abortions

he was not supposed to care.

he made it very clear from the jump — the moment you stood there with trembling fingers and that little plus sign shaking in your hand — he said no. flat out.

“get rid of it.”

no inflection, no hesitation. like it was a business decision — clean cut, transactional.

you cried. of course you did, and that irritated him. not because he didn’t expect it — people always cried around him, usually for very different reasons — but because you meant it. you kept saying shit like “it’s a life, ryomen. it’s mine. i’m keeping it.”

and for some godforsaken reason, that intrigued him.

he could’ve disappeared. could’ve gone ghost like it was nothing. but no, instead he sends money every month. doesn’t ask for receipts, doesn’t ask how you’re doing — just sends it. like clockwork. a habit. a system.

and then the texts started. once a week, always the same tone.

sukuna [10:38 am]: how far along sukuna [1:00 pm]: any complications sukuna [6:45 pm]: what are you eating sukuna [8:09 pm]: stop eating that

cold, efficient. might as well be a fucking doctor.

and yet you answer him every time like you owe it to him. like his disapproval still somehow has weight. you even tell him the stuff he doesn’t ask, like when the baby first kicked. or when you had morning sickness so bad you fainted.

you expected silence, but the next morning there’d be a delivery at your door — electrolytes, iron supplements, snacks. you pretended not to care, and he pretended not to send them himself.

he doesn’t come to check-ups, doesn’t ask about names. doesn’t send any of those useless stuffed animal bullshit things new parents get excited over. but he thinks. silently. like, how someone like you — soft-spoken, annoyingly hopeful — could still look him in the eye and choose to have his kid.

and then you’re in labor, and for some reason it’s him you call. not your friend, not your mom, not a cab. it’s sukuna.

and he doesn’t even think. just grabs his keys, doesn’t change clothes — just a tank top, sweats, and fury in his grip as he clenches the steering wheel and breaks five traffic laws to get to the hospital.

you’re already screaming when he finds you, sweaty and biting curses into your palm, and the nurse asks who he is and he says “the fucking father.”

he stays the whole time — pacing, arms crossed, jaw locked. doesn't say much — just sharp nods when you cry out that you can’t do it, low grunts of “yes you can.” doesn’t hold your hand. but he stays.

and then there’s crying.

two of them.

twins.

he stares at them like they’re alien creatures, wrinkled and red and noisy, and he thinks fuck, he’s in it now.

a nurse hands one over, then the other. and he’s never held anything this small before. never held anything with such… complete fragility.

they’re warm and loud and his.

his chest tightens, not with panic. not even with regret. but something heavier. something… tethering. you’re half-asleep but watching him. he doesn’t meet your eyes. just looks down at the kids — the fucking kids — and mutters,

“…they’ve got your nose.”

and that’s how it starts. not with love, not with some grand revelation — just with curiosity turning into presence.

and sukuna?

he stays.

[plutotheplum]

I'm Your Man

caleb x fem!reader

summary: riling up your boyfriend is entirely too easy. when he finds out you have a tutor that happens to be a man... well, it's safe to say caleb hates that sort of thing.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, fluff, kissing, spanking, oral sex, vaginal fingering, p in v, praise kink, finger sucking, exhibitionism, jealous!caleb, established relationship, modern au

w/c: 5.8k

a/n: *caleb seeing reader near a guy* crashes out immediately - hope you all enjoy!! <3

also on ao3!

“Baby!”

You squeak when the door swings open, the man in front of you moving in a blur. There’s a pair of lips landing against your cheek in a quick kiss before he wraps his arms around you, lifting you up off of the ground, his faze nuzzling into your chest.

“C- Caleb,” you whine, squirming in his hold, trying to get him to set you back down, “put me down, you dork.”

“But I missed you,” Caleb grumbles back, rubbing his face all over your top like a cat, nuzzling into your chest. He finally grants your request once he’s satisfied, hands smoothing down over your sides once he sets you down onto your feet.

You smile when he cups your cheeks, humming happily when he begins to pepper soft kisses all over your face, his thumbs smoothing over your skin gently.

“I missed you too,” you say, arms wrapping around his neck to tug him down for a kiss, sighing softly against his mouth.

Caleb groans, his hands squeezing at your waist, kissing you back eagerly. You huff out a laugh when he gropes at your ass, rocking up onto your tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek.

“That’s it?” he protests when you pull away, pushing your hands away when you try to tug your duffle bag into his apartment.

“I literally just got here,” you muse, watching as he grabs your bag for you, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you silently appreciate the flex of your boyfriend’s biceps as he carries your duffle bag into his bedroom for you. 

You shut his front door, securing the lock, before trailing after him. Caleb is reaching for you the moment you step inside his bedroom, shoving his face into the crook of your neck and letting out a contented sigh.

“Missed you so much,” he sighs, voice muffled with the way he’s pressed his face against your neck, his nose digging into you, lips brushing over your skin. 

“Sometimes I wonder how you live without me,” you tease, hands stroking over his hair gently, scratching his scalp every now and then.

“I hardly get by,” Caleb complains aggrievedly, tugging you towards his bed. “I think I have withdrawals every time you leave.”

A laugh slips out of you at that, crawling up to snuggle into his arms, leaning back to rest your head on his shoulder. Caleb kisses your cheek, his chest warm and firm against your back as he hums in satisfaction. 

“I only have a year left before I graduate, then I can move in with you,” you remind him, scrolling through your phone absentmindedly as Caleb busies himself with trying to meld his body against yours.

“Feels like an eternity,” he mutters, huffing out a breath. Caleb props his chin on your shoulder, eyes trained on your phone as you watch some random video. “How are your classes anyways?”

“Not bad,” you say, tilting your head to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I was struggling in one of them, but I sorted that out.”

“Yeah?” he murmurs, pecking your lips gently in return, “how’d you do that?”

“I got a tutor,” you shrug, glancing up at him before turning your attention back to your phone. “He’s pretty good.”

You can feel Caleb stiffening behind you, his fingers stopping their movements against your sides. Your brows furrow, tossing your phone somewhere in front of you before turning back to look at Caleb properly. There’s a tell-tale pout beginning to form on his lips; something you’ve gotten used to ever since you were children.

“What’s wrong?”

“He?” Caleb echoes, his eyes darkening, “your tutor’s a guy?”

“Well… yeah?” you reply like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “the dude is like super smart; top of the class and everything. I figured he’d be the best to teach me.” 

“I’m super smart,” Caleb shoots back, and you raise your brows when you see a frown coming across his face, his lips turning downwards. “And I was the top of all my classes. Definitely smarter than your little tutor. Drop him.”

A laugh bubbles out of you, turning around his arms until you settle on his lap, thighs straddling his hips.

“Yeah?” you smile, peering up at him, “you don’t even know the syllabus, Caleb.”

“I can learn it,” he protests stubbornly, “besides, I am smart. I’m a fighter pilot, baby.”

Your smile widens when you see Caleb’s chest puff out a little, his proud nature showing - not that you minded. Your fingers smooth up over the back of his shoulders, a soft sigh escaping Caleb when you play with the hair at the nape of his neck, his head tipping back, eyes fluttering shut.

“You can just say it,” you whisper teasingly, pressing yourself a little closer. “You’re jealous.”

“Jealous?” Caleb echoes, his lips pursing as he considers your words. “Maybe,” he shrugs, his eyes opening as he stares down at you, “or maybe…” he whispers, lowering his head to brush a kiss across your lips, “maybe I just want to keep my girl to myself.”

Your cheeks flush when he calls you his girl, heart fluttering in your chest. The words echo in your mind, brushing whatever thoughts were filling your mind away. He always knew how to disarm you, and you can never quite get used to Caleb’s possessiveness, his need to have his claim on you. It’s thrilling and nothing else has ever made you feel so wanted.

“Hm?” Caleb hums against your cheek, “my girl is all mine. Right, baby?”

Hands pawing at his firm chest, you nod, leaning into him as though in a daze. You lean up, making a small noise, trying to kiss him. Caleb clicks his tongue, his hand cupping your jaw, fingers squeezing gently on either side of your cheeks to bring you out of the slow, syrupy haze that was currently fogging your mind. 

“Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Yes- yes,” you say insistently, pouting before you pucker up your lips a little more, desperate for a kiss, “‘m all yours, Caleb.”

“Good girl.”

You preen at the praise, mewling softly when he kisses you. Caleb’s hands squeeze at your hips gently, trying to stop all of your squirming and jostling on top of his lap. A dissatisfied sound leaves you when he stops you from grinding across his lap, your eyes narrowing as you peer up at him.

“I thought you missed me, Caleb.”

He rolls his eyes, grabbing your hand that was currently sliding down his chest, his lips pressing against your palm when he manages to unfurl the fist you’d made with your fingers. 

“You’re so grabby,” Caleb mumbles against your palm, “‘m tryna take it slow, baby.”

“I don’t want slow,” you huff out, fisting his shirt and yanking him towards you. “I want you to fuck me.”

There’s a smirk on Caleb’s lips, his nose nudging against yours, fingers pressing into your back.

“Last time you cried when I-”

“Shut up!” you sputter, slapping your hand over his mouth, cheeks hot with embarrassment when you remember what had happened last time. Caleb’s hand wrapped around your throat, fingers relentless against your clit, cock pounding entirely too deep-  “That was- it was overwhelming!”

Caleb opens his mouth to respond, mischief glinting in his eyes, but your phone ruins the moment, ringing out. You groan, turning your back to him as you reach for your phone that you had tossed over to the foot of his bed.

“Who is it?” Caleb asks, his fingers wrapping around your ankles as you kick up your legs lazily.

“My tutor,” you reply, showing him your phone.

A smile spreads across your face when you see Caleb’s playful expression drop, replaced with something akin to annoyance.

“You know,” you continue, your voice dipping into a drawling taunt just to piss him off, “bet he’d fuck me if I asked him.”

“You little-” Caleb hisses, his voice rising as he tries to grab for your phone.

You pull it out of his reach, pressing a finger to your lips, making a hushing motion. Caleb’s expression grows darker the moment you swipe your finger across the screen to answer, his hands tightening their grip on your ankles.

“Hi,” you chirp sweetly, twirling a strand of hair around your finger.

“Uh hey,” the man on the other end of the line replies, “are you free to talk?”

You hum, sneaking a glance towards Caleb who seems close to snapping, his glare venomous when he catches your eyes. Too easy, you think, biting your lip to stifle a laugh at his thinly veiled anger.

“Super free,” you say pointedly, “what did you want to talk abo- ow!”

A sharp yelp escapes you when Caleb’s hand comes down on your ass, the slap stinging. A strangled whine escapes you, your head whipping around to glare back at Caleb, feeling your eye twitch. Your boyfriend meets your eyes with a hard glare of his own, his fingers pushing up the hem of your skirt to examine the rapidly reddening skin of your ass.

“You okay?” your tutor asks, a tinge of concern in his voice.

“F- fine,” you manage out, “just- just um- stubbed my toe!”

“Right,” he murmurs, “hate when that happens.”

You nod along as though he can see you, trying to kick Caleb in the face as you roll over onto your back. The wind is knocked out of you when Caleb grabs you by the waist, manhandling you until you’re laying on your front again, his hands squeezing at your ass roughly, hand coming down again in a harsh smack.

“Ouch!”

“You uh- you stubbed your toe again?” your tutor asks tentatively.

“Mhm,” you say, voice slightly breathless with the restraint it was taking you not to cry out. “I’m- ‘m just really clumsy.”

Your fingers tremble as you manage to mute yourself on your phone, letting out a whimper when Caleb spanks you again and again, a hint of regret pooling inside of you at pushing your boyfriend this far.

“Unmute,” Caleb murmurs, gripping your hips to make you arch a bit, ass up in the air for him to spank again, your skin hot and prickly. His voice is a low snap when you don’t do as he says, your throat bobbing as you swallow harshly, Caleb’s tone growing firmer, no longer requesting but demanding. “C’mon baby, unmute the fucking phone.” 

You whine in protest, but do as he says, shakily unmuting yourself. You can hardly hear whatever your tutor was rambling on about, eyes blinking rapidly to try and concentrate. It’s all in vain however, when Caleb rains down another slap to your ass, your teeth sinking into your forearm to muffled a pained gasp.

“Bad fucking girl,” Caleb mutters lowly, “such a bratty, little slut.”

The itch to argue and bite back prickles across your skin, but Caleb’s hands are smoothing over you ass, and you wiggle your hips back to meet the soft pets he rewards your ass with; his fingers prodding and pushing your ass cheeks apart to take a glimpse of your panties.

“Anyways,” your tutor continues, “I was just calling because my schedule’s changed so I might not be able to tutor you during the time we agreed on.”

“Oh,” you breathe out, eyes widening as Caleb tugs at your panties, pulling them away from your skin before he lets go, the elastic snapping back against your skin. “That’s- that’s uh- too bad?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, “do you mind if we settle on a different day?”

There’s an answer sitting on the tip of your tongue, but Caleb pulls at your ankle, managing to flip you over onto your back. He tightens his grip, your body sliding against the sheets as he tugs you towards him.

“N- no,” you hiss, forgetting about the man on the other end of the line, too preoccupied by trying to simultaneously yank your leg free whilst trying to kick Caleb’s face, “don’t you dare!”

Caleb only gives you a lazy grin, his hands managing to catch both your ankles and tug you further down the bed. 

“Don’t you dare?” your tutor echoes confusedly, and you squeeze your eyes shut, wincing at the misunderstanding.

You laugh, trying to cover up your flustered state, head dropping back against the sheets as Caleb smiles against the soles of your feet, peppering kisses all over the expanse of your feet.

“That’s not what I meant,” you grit out, shaking your head vehemently when Caleb smooths his hands over your thighs, pushing your skirt up to expose your panties.

You can feel your brain short-circuiting when your boyfriend settles between your thighs, his hands grasping at your thighs, squeezing at the fat before he turns his head, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh.

“So you’re okay with me rescheduling?”

“Y- yes!” you say, your voice pitching upwards awkwardly when Caleb rubs his fingers over your clothed cunt, his head dipping down to press kisses to your damp panties.

“Great,” he says, sounding a little chipper, “how does Friday sound? Maybe 10-12 in the morning?”

“Oh fuck,” you breathe out hazily, fingers brushing through Caleb’s hair as he pulls your panties down your legs, your half-lidded gaze not missing the way he slips them into the pocket of his sweats - another addition to his growing collection.

Perv.

You sigh, biting your lip as Caleb kisses your puffy folds, his tongue sliding through them after, your grip on your phone loosening as you squeeze your breast, squirming under Caleb’s ministrations.

He stares up at you, pulling back to lick his lips, strings of slick clinging to his lips and chin. You smile hazily and Caleb leans forward, stealing a quick kiss before burying his face back into your aching pussy. 

“Uh- does that sound good?” your tutor asks, his voice sounding a little unsure with all the sighing and soft noises you were let out.

“So good,” you murmur absentmindedly, thighs squeezing around Caleb’s head gently, enough to tease him a little.

Caleb gives you a pointed stare, his teeth sinking into your thigh before he smirks, nodding towards your phone.

You flush, embarrassment making your body go hot. “I- I mean y- yeah! That sounds perfect!”

“Okay, let me just write that down-”

You tug at Caleb’s hair, mouth dropping open when he latches onto your clit, sucking harshly. The sensations make your thighs twitch, toes curling as they press up against Caleb’s broad back, a soft mewl leaving you when you see the flex of his muscles through his shirt.

“Pretty pussy missed me,” Caleb whispers, his voice barely audible. He sighs contentedly when he thumbs apart your folds, the sheets rustling slightly as you watch him grind his hips into the bed, Caleb’s eyes not wavering from the clench of your pussy around nothing. “So wet, hm? Gonna ruin my sheets, baby.”

You whimper when he draws back, thighs twitching when he gathers a considerable amount of spit in his mouth, spitting down onto your clenching pussy. It’s filthy really, but Caleb is well-versed in your body; knows you well enough to know that you’ll go along with whatever he offers you.

Your fingers push at his head gently when he tries to kiss your clit, moving your hand down to spread your pussy for him instead, rubbing his spit into your cunt, mixing it with your slick. Caleb lets out a low groan at the sight, and you smile prettily, pressing your wet fingers against his mouth, smearing it over his lips.

His tongue lolls out soon after, licking his lips and you feed him your fingers, hips rolling up needily when he sucks on your fingers lazily. “Want you to cum for me on call,” Caleb slurs, licking between your fingers, grazing his teeth against the pads of them.

“What?” you hiss, brows raising incredulously. “I am not doing that.”

Caleb ignores you, busying himself with burying his face back into your cunt. You stifle a moan, biting down on your lip hard enough to remind yourself that you shouldn’t have been doing this; be on a call whilst your boyfriend was eating you out.

“I was thinking we could meet up at the library.”

Your tutor’s voice breaks through the haze and you grit your teeth, silently regretting the fact that you’d been the one to start this whole ordeal in the first place.

“The- ah- the library sounds good,” you mumble, eyes squeezing shut when Caleb begins to double his efforts, sucking and slurping, the sounds entirely too lewd and perhaps audible to the man on the phone. “

You press down on Caleb’s head, fingers tangling with his hair, back arching. Caleb’s smile is obvious, you can feel it against your cunt, his head tilting as he prods at your aching hole, beginning to fuck you with his tongue. A shudder racks through you, an impatient whine slipping out of you, desperate to orgasm.

“Be good, baby,” Caleb murmurs, replacing his tongue with his fingers, curling them up inside of you.

You try to stifle a moan and Caleb is feeling nice enough to help you, his free hand sliding up over your stomach, squeezing at your tits appreciatively before stuffing his fingers into your mouth to muffle your noises.

Legs jerking, you try to hold still, but when Caleb latches back onto your clit, your entire body quakes. It’s torture, the way Caleb knows how to play with you, his mouth smashing against your dripping pussy to suck more feverishly to drive you further towards the edge.

“The library it is then,” your tutor notes down. “Or you could always come over.”

Come over. Come. Cum. Cum?

A drunken giggle slips out of you, fingers running through Caleb’s soft hair as he flicks his tongue against your clit, stroking over it gently before his mouth suctions around the swollen bud, making your back arch. Yeah, you think hazily, you were going to cum. 

“Mhm,” you slur, “‘m definitely gonna be cumming.”

“You- you are?” he sounds a little surprised, “you know, I’ve never had someone so eager to learn. It’s actually kinda… refreshing, honestly so thank you.”

“You’re so welcome,” you mewl, hips rocking up against Caleb’s face, feeling the huff of laughter your boyfriend lets out against your pussy, his hand coming down to spread you apart for him again, his fingers thrusting in and out of you faster.

You bite down on your lip, body seizing up when Caleb crooks his fingers inside of you just right, the sensation of his tongue on your clit enough to have your back arching, toes digging into Caleb’s back as you cum.

Caleb groans, kissing your clit sloppily, his tongue sliding through your puffy folds to drink up every last drop of slick that he could find. He laps over your pussy, nuzzling into your thigh after as you shudder and shake, kissing your hip to help soothe you through the aftermath of your orgasm.

You’re too boneless to stop Caleb from reaching for your phone, eyes fluttering shut, unable to stop the syrupy atmosphere that had befallen you.

“Hung up for you,” he murmurs, putting your phone somewhere, his lips landing on your cheek for a sweet kiss.

“I didn’t get to say bye to him,” you mumble belatedly, arms wrapping around Caleb’s neck lazily.

Caleb clicks his tongue, sending you a half-hearted glare. “You don’t need to say bye to him, baby. Stop thinking about him. I just made you cum on my tongue.”

“But he’s just so helpful,” you sigh lazily, feeling Caleb’s fingers dig into your hips.

“For fuck’s sake,” Caleb mutters, rolling his eyes, “I’m helpful and I’m your fucking boyfriend.”

You smile up at him, tugging him down to kiss him. Caleb lets out a low noise against your lips, his hands squeezing at your waist, shuddering when you scratch his scalp.

“You don’t have to be so butthurt, baby,” you coo, sitting up, “I still love you.”

“Not enough apparently,” Caleb grouses, tugging his shirt up over his head.

You go hazy eyed at the sight, hand running up over your boyfriend’s defined abdomen, your fingers catching on his dog tags situated between his unfairly thick pecs. 

“Gonna fuck me now?” you ask him sweetly, tugging his sweats and boxers down to free his cock.

Caleb’s cock bobs free and you sigh dreamily at the sight, the head of it wet with thick globs of pre-cum; damning evidence of his arousal. Your hand wraps around his fat cock, the length hot and throbbing under your touch. 

It’s all too much for Caleb who lets out a shuddering noise, his head dropping forward, resting against your shoulder as you stroke his cock lazily, leaning forward to spit on it. Caleb whines and you take the opportunity to lean forward, mouthing at his pecs, pressing open-mouthed kisses across his heated skin.

“Fuck, baby,” Caleb sighs, hands coming up to cradle your head against his chest, his cock twitching in your hands when you reach down to squeeze at his balls, your teeth scraping across his sternum playfully. 

“Missed your cock,” you whisper, rising up onto your knees to kiss up his neck. “‘s just so big and thick,” you say appreciatively. 

“Do you even think about me?” Caleb protests, his head tipping to the side to bare more of his neck to you, “or do you just think about my fat fuckin’ cock?”

“It’s not a crime to think about it,” you huff out, angling your head to kiss the underside of his jaw. “I just really like it.”

“Brat,” he mutters, reaching down to grope your ass. “You sound like you have a crush on my cock.”

“You steal my panties!” you shoot back exasperatedly, glaring up at him before biting down on his shoulder in retaliation.

“Maybe I just really like the cute little designs,” Caleb drawls, yanking your head back using your hair before dipping his head to kiss you messily, his tongue invading your mouth, practically fucking you with it until there’s spit leaking from the sides of your mouths.

You moan, pawing at his broad shoulders, mewling happily when he manhandles you to his will, turning you over onto your front, his hands tugging your ass up into the air, making you arch for him.

“Good fucking girl,” he snarls, landing a spank to your ass. “Ask for my cock, sweetheart, c’mon.”

You whimper, face shoving into the sheets, grabbing at them to try and ground yourself. The sounds of Caleb stroking his cock making your pussy throb, hips wiggling back to try and make him push his cock inside.

“W- want it inside,” you demand, yelping when Caleb smacks your ass again.

“Think you can do better than that,” Caleb murmurs, his hand smoothing up over your back, his cock slapping against your aching cunt, before he presses the tip of it in before drawing it back out. “Hm? Wanna hear you all pretty, baby.”

“P- please?” you hiccup, feeling desperate tears prick at your lash line - a sign of your own desperation and need to have him close, no, in you. “C- can I p- please have your cock, Caleb? Please?” 

“You sound so sweet when you ask like that,” Caleb says dreamily, dipping his head to reward your cheek with a kiss. “I love you so much, sweetheart.”

A shaky breath escapes you, your cheek squishing against the sheets, eyes slipping shut when he sinks his cock inside of you. You’ve slept with Caleb countless times, but you can never get quite used to the stretch of his cock and the way it manages to turn every rational thought in your mind to mush.

Caleb doesn’t seem to be faring better, letting out a guttural groan as he buries himself into the hilt. You can’t help but think he’s being a little louder than usual, but you’re not complaining.

“So tight,” he rasps hoarsely, fingers spreading apart your ass to watch his cock sink in and out of you, his eyes silently appreciating the way your cunt is stretched out around his cock. “Feels so good, baby.”

You mumble something back incoherently, content to let him have you like this, his hips smacking into your ass loudly with every thrust he delivers.

“Love you, Caleb,” you mewl when you feel him kiss up your back and over your shoulder, his face pressing into the crook of your neck, “love you much.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he soothes, drawing his hips back before driving them into you harder and faster, “so good to me, aren’t you?”

“Mhm,” you nod, rising up onto your hands, turning your head to kiss him, “‘m your good girl.”

Caleb grunts, his arm wrapping around your waist. “You weren’t being good when you were talking to him.”

You pout, too horny to roll your eyes and tell him that he was being wildly immature and entirely too possessive for his own good. Instead, you squirm forward, Caleb’s cock slipping out of you despite his protests.

“Should I make it up to you?” you ask sweetly, voice lilting as you bat your lashes up at him.

“Make it up to me?” Caleb echoes, his breath hitching when you crawl towards him, hips swaying a little, your hands pushing at his shoulders to get him to lay down.

You hum in response, crawling up over him, settling on his lap. You smile when he groans loudly, your hips rolling as you grind your pussy over his hard, aching cock.

“Ride me,” he mutters dazedly, pre-cum coating his abdomen. “Sink down on my cock and ride me, baby.”

“I’m enjoying this though,” you say teasingly, hands planted firmly on his chest as you roll your hips again, moaning softly when his cock slides through your folds, the tip of it catching on your clit. “W- wait- Caleb!”

You squeak when he grabs for you roughly, picking you up easily, dropping you down onto his cock. A sharp cry escapes you, cunt clenching around him in a desperate attempt to get accustomed to his size.

“‘m gonna fuck the brattiness outta you,” Caleb murmurs, his lips slotting over yours to seal the promise. “And then-” he moans, his head tipping back slightly as he guides you to rock your hips, feeling your cunt around his throbbing cock, “and then, you’re gonna scream my name while you cum.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, gasping as he begins to bounce you on his cock, your ass smacking against his thighs. You don’t need much encouragement, not when Caleb’s mouth is sucking and biting at your neck, most likely leaving numerous hickeys in his wake. 

“Who's making you feel this good?” your boyfriend asks, “huh, baby?”

“Y- you are!” you squeal when he slaps your ass, hugging his head as he buries his face into your chest, his mouth sucking at your nipple before switching over to the other breast, biting a mark into the fat of it.

“That’s right,” Caleb growls, “I am, not anyone else. Just me and my cock, yeah?”

“Yes- yes! Oh fuck- hah- C- Caleb!”

He snarls, pulling you down, breasts squishing up against his chest. You squirm, hardly able to believe you’d manage to piss him off into such a state. Caleb wraps his arms around you, his knees bending as he plants his feet firmly against his bed, beginning to thrust up into you.

“S- so deep,” you hiccup, pressing sloppy kisses to his jaw, “you’re the best.”

Caleb groans, his heart fluttering at your words, a light flush covering his cheeks. Despite everything, your words still manage to fluster him, the softness of your lips on his cheek making his body throb with affection.

He manages to tilt his head, capturing your lips with his, uncaring that your kisses were slightly clumsy and uncoordinated with how fucked out you were. You whimper when he quickens his pace, cock pounding into you, his balls slapping against your ass.

“‘m gonna c- cum,” you whine, pussy clenching down around his cock desperately.

“Yeah?” Caleb rasps, kissing the corner of your mouth, “gonna cum on my cock, sweetheart?”

You nod rapidly, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, letting out a contented coo. Caleb grunts out your name, his fingers reaching down to squeeze at your ass, fucking up into you over and over again until you squeal and scream, his name leaving your mouth in a slurred chant.

“C- Caleb! I- ah! I love you!”

“Cum,” Caleb snaps, burying himself into the hilt, his hand managing to find your clit. You whine when he rubs it, body shuddering on top of his as you cum, your nails digging into his broad shoulders. “There you go, baby.”

You let out a dazed sound when Caleb kisses you, lips pressing together sloppily, his cock twitching inside of you.

“Fuck,” Caleb mutters, his body covered in a thin sheen of sweat, his thighs trembling slightly as his hot, thick cum floods your pussy. “So good to me, sweetheart.”

You flop down onto the bed, chest rising and falling as you pant raggedly, Caleb’s softening cock slipping out of you. His cum smears across your thigh when he moves towards you, his face pressing into your chest as he kisses your breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth playfully until you push at his head in protest.

“I should rile you up more,” you muse, fingers tracing over his lips gently, a triumphant smile on your face.

Caleb rolls his eyes, kissing the pads of your fingers. “Maybe you should,” he concedes finally, running a hand through his hair, looking a little weary, his cheeks flushed prettily. 

You cup his cheeks, pulling him closer to pepper kisses over his face, to his cheeks, forehead and brows, laughing when he returns your kisses and sucks the fat of your cheek into his mouth childishly.

“Y’all are freaks.”

The smile on your face fades, the color all but draining from your face when you hear a crackly voice coming from your phone. You glance towards Caleb, and the asshole in question looks entirely too smug and pleased, a lazy grin spread out across his face.

The cozy intimate atmosphere around you seems to fade, annoyance flitting across your face. You have half a mind to slap Caleb across the face, your jaw clenching as your teeth grit together, but the more pressing issue at hand wins out. You only need to sit up to spy the dangerous glint in your boyfriend’s eyes. The bed dips under both of you, sheets rumpling in a flurry as you both scramble towards your phone, trying to grab it first.

“I am so sorry-” you begin, shrieking when Caleb tugs your phone from your hand. You flail, trying to crawl up onto his lap, shoving at his shoulders in an attempt to snatch your phone back, desperate to save the last shreds of your now scarce and very much dwindling dignity.

“You could’ve hung up,” Caleb retorts bluntly into your phone, his thumb pushing into your mouth when you open your mouth to protest. “Now fuck off.”

You watch as Caleb disconnects the call, your eyes narrowing, not tempted to suck on his thumb like you might’ve been in any other situation. Instead, you bite down, satisfaction coursing through you when Caleb yelps, watching as his eyes squeezing shut in pain. You cling on stubbornly, glaring up at him when he tries to pull his thumb free, a wince leaving him as pain flares up through his thumb. You don’t let go until Caleb protests, his hand pushing at your forehead gently.

“So mean, sweetheart,” he complains, wrapping his arms around you, his face nuzzling into your chest, mouthing at the sides of your breasts lazily. 

You stare down at your boyfriend, the soft tufts of his brown hair now messy and sticking up into your face. You can feel your eye beginning to twitch, irritation prickling across your skin.

“What the fuck was that?” you snap, swatting the side of his head, “you said you hung up!”

“Must’ve forgotten,” Caleb mumbles, his expression feigning innocence as his eyes flick up to meet yours.

“Really?” you murmur, leaning forward, head tilting. “You forgot? Guess I’ll just forget to stay here tonight.”

You move to get off of his lap, but Caleb clicks his tongue, his arms tightening around you. You try again, but his hold is firm, preventing you from going anywhere other than staying in his lap.

“Thought you were my good girl,” Caleb sighs, dragging his lips across your jaw, trailing soft kisses over your skin. “I was only showing him who you really belonged to.”

“Belonged to?” you echo, hand cupping the back of his head to bare your neck to him when he kisses your neck. 

“Mhm,” he hums, lifting his head to peck your lips. You can’t help but lean into him, eyes fluttering as he brushes his thumbs over your cheeks gently, tucking your hair behind your ears.

“Funny,” you breathe out, showing him your hand, “I don’t see a ring on my hand.”

Caleb pauses, his eyes widening for a moment before a smile spreads across his face, his head dipping to give you another kiss.

“I can do that,” he whispers against your lips. “You want a ring, sweetheart? I’ll give you one.”

“That’s not what I-” you begin exasperatedly, squeaking when Caleb grabs your chin, his mouth slotting over yours to kiss you heatedly, stopping you from speaking.

“So?” Caleb asks eagerly, “what do you want? A diamond? Personally, I think-”

“I am not marrying you,” you interrupt, pressing your hands against his chest to push him back. You bite your lip, averting your gaze, feeling a little shy. “...At least not right now, so- so shut up.”

“I’ll marry you eventually,” Caleb murmurs, a smile spreading across his face, “been wanting to ever since we were kids.”

You groan, flopping away from him, burying your face into a pillow to hide your flustered expression.

“C’mere baby,” he coaxes, smiling against your cheek after he pulls you into his arms, letting you bury your face into his warm chest. “I love you.”

“You’re such a dick,” you mumble, peering up at him. You pout and Caleb grins, dropping a soft kiss to your forehead. “I love you too, jerk.”

He runs his fingers through your hair, stroking gently as your eyes droop shut, lulled to sleep by the heat and comfort of his body, cocooned in Caleb’s affection - until he decides to ruin it with a thoughtful whisper that makes him sound entirely too pleased with what he’s managed to accomplish. 

“Guess you’re gonna have to send me the syllabus for that class after all.”

[abbatoirablaze]

Locked Up, Chapter 9

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: mentions of a dead body

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed against his chest, clinging to the bloodied up uniform, “Ari, I’m so sor-“

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Ari sighed, kissing Viv’s temple as he smoothed her hair down in an attempt to comfort her, “it’s okay baby.  None of this was our fault.  You hear me?  None of this is your fault.  You didn’t know this was going to go down.”

“I’m the monster,” she sobbed as she shook her head, “I-I was sleeping with Lee because he was treating the inmates better…wh-when I did, he would be more lax with everyone.  I-I didn’t walk away when I started seeing Jake and Ransom…and then when he-“

“You’re not the monster, baby,” Ari sighed again, holding onto Viv, “you were doing what you did because he was an asshole to us.  He’s the real monster.  He had you by the leash and was dragging you around with him.  None of this is your fault, baby!”

“But I-“

“You’re an amazing, loving woman, Viv…and you found people you care about who just happen to be in a prison,” Ari reminded her gently as he held her face in his hands, “there’s nothing wrong with that.  There’s nothing wrong with that, or you.  We’re just in a fucked up situation, baby.”

“I’m your CO, Ari…there is-“

“So, is it wrong to love someone like Ransom?” he asked, pushing her limits, “you always tell me and him that you believed in his innocence from the first day you saw him.  He was traveling down a dark road and you kept him away from becoming a monster in here.  You saw past the cocky asshole that he pretends to be, Viv.  You saw the real him.  The loving, passionate brat that he is.  Monsters don’t do that!  They don’t see the good in others.  They only bring others down, baby.  That’s not you.  You make us better!”

“SIT DOWN, INMATE!”

Ransom’s head snapped in the direction of another one of the CO’s, “eat shit, Magda!”

“What did you say to me, inmate Drysdale?”

“You heard me!” he growled, storming off towards his cell.  He knew that the guard must have been following him, but he didn’t dare turn around.  Part of himself had expected to be struck from behind by the guard, but the blow never came.  When he reached his cell, he was surprised to see Jake on his tablet, “why the hell aren’t you out in the dayroom, Jensen?”

“I-I-“

“Fuck off!” he growled, rolling into his bunk and glaring at the bunk above it. 

A sharp tap on the wall brought both men’s attention towards the door.  Ransom smirked, seeing that it was the female CO, “Hey sweet cheeks…looking to get a taste of some of the finer cock in this joint?  We could kick Jensen here out, and I could show you what a real man is…hell, we could let Jensen stay and film it on his tablet.  Give him something for his spank bank.”

“RANSOM!” Jake gasped, eyes wide at his cell mate.

“Inmate Jensen…take a walk so I can talk to your bunkmate, before Magda comes in and crushes his windpipe with his baton.”

“Y-yes ma’am.”

And like that, Jake was off his bunk and out of the cell.  Ransom’s jaw ticked as he shot her a look.  He didn’t appreciate the fact that she didn’t have a response towards him.  He wanted to be the focus of the room and here she was just brushing his comments off.

“Magda deserves that…he treats everyone in here like trash.”

“Because most of the guys out there are!” she said pointedly.  Ransom’s jaw twitched yet again, and he shot her a look, “you’re mad your mom didn’t show up for visitation today, but that doesn’t mean you can take it out on whoever you feel like, inmate.”

Ransom scoffed, rolling his eyes, “Linda can eat shit!  I don’t care about the fact that she didn’t come around.  She’s doing what’s best for her and our ‘family name,’ leaving me to rot in a cell because she’s a heartless bitch.”

“You know, working as a CO you get a real taste of what some of these guys are like-“

“Good for you!” Ransom growled, “you saying you wanna taste me?”

“You’re not a killer, Drysdale…I can spot it a mile away…and you’re not it,” she said quickly in response, brushing off yet another forward comment, “you’re scared, Drysdale.  You’re not a killer, so stop hiding behind the crude remarks.

He gave her an angry look, “if you can spot it a mile away and seem so sure, why the hell am I charged with it then?”

“Because people are stupid…especially underpaid and overworked detectives who just want their closed cases numbers to stay high,” He was unable to stop the chuckle that left his lips.  Viv smiled in response, “I’m Viv…”

“Eat shit, Viv…”

“I’ll let that one slide, Drysdale,” she said with a smirk.  She took a few steps back until she was back at the door to his cell, “but I saw you peeping through there…from behind your little walls…I can see what’s behind all those guards you put up, Ransom.”

“Baby…” Ari tried, attempting to break her from her thoughts, “baby…can you hear me?  You’re not a monster.”

“She doesn’t fucking believe me…” Ransom sighed in disbelief as he watched his mother leave the visitor’s room, “I can’t believe it…she-she thinks I really did it.”

“Hugh…”

“Leave me alone, Viv…” he grumbled, not daring to look back to the corner of the room where she’d been standing the entire visit, “I-I don’t want to talk right now.”

“Maybe we should,” she offered gently.  Ransom jumped when he felt her hand on his shoulder, “that was kind of tough…what just happened.  It wasn’t something that-”

“You don’t know what just happened, Viv!” he hissed, shaking her arm off of his shoulder, “she was right.  I’m garbage…I-I killed Harlan.”

“You loved your grandfather, Hugh…you and I both know that,” she tried, sitting down in front of him, “I can’t even begin to count the number of times you’ve told me stories about you and your grandfather.  I know that you didn’t kill him.”

“Jesus Viv…you don’t fucking know everything.”

“No…but I know that you’re not a killer, Hugh…you never will be…because despite you acting like a prick, you’re one of the most thoughtful men I know!” she said firmly, pulling his face towards her own. 

“Viv…”

“Hey…you’re not a killer,” she sighed gently, her lips ghosting over his, “don’t let her make you think that you are.”

“I just-I don’t know what to think anymore,” he admitted, “everything feels so…”

“Beyond your control?”

He nodded, his lips grazing hers once again, “I-I want to kiss you right now…can-can I kiss you Viv?”

“Is that what you need?” she asked.

He nodded, and she pressed their lips together.  Ransom gasped, and melted against her kiss, allowing himself to feel vulnerable with her.  He knew that he had been trying to push her away, but it was obvious that she saw right through it and pulled him even closer. 

“Wh-why are you so good to me?” he asked gently as she pulled away from him.  She rested her head against his and sighed.

“You’re a good man, Hugh…I won’t let you regress into something you’re not…”

“I-I love you!” he whispered.

“I love you too, Hugh.”

“That’s just the type of woman you are, Viv!” he pointed out, breaking her from her thoughts, “you’re always there.  Always showing us that it’s okay to be vulnerable.  You’re always seeing past what the others have said that we were.  Everyone thought that I was a monster because I’m quiet.  Everyone treated me like I was because of it.  But you saw me for the man that I am.  You did that, Viv.  Monsters don’t do that.”

“Ari…” she sniffled, the tears streaking down her cheeks as she looked at one of the men that she loved, “i-“

“Don’t discredit it…please…” he begged her, “don’t say that you’re not this amazing soul…because you are!”

“Ari…we-we need to find Hugh…” she said desperately, “I-I need to know that both of you are safe.”

Ari nodded, helping her up, “he’s fine baby…he-he’s hunkered down in the shower room.  Just like the plan said…we’re going to wait out the riot there…”

She nodded and got up, but as they reached the door, she turned to look at the warden’s form, “Ari…wh-what about Lee?”

“We don’t have to worry about him baby…we won’t ever have to worry about him coming after the three of us again.”

Chapter 10

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