#and the couple of times I tried to ignore that and make out or have sex

[mggslover]

Valentines Savior

In which Spencer saves his best friend from a failed Valentines date.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!bau!reader Genre: fluff x slight angst Content warnings: friends to lovers, mutual pining, reader is tipsy, reader curses, confessions of love, vague mention of reader having abandonment issues, suggestive joke Word count: 3,6k A/n: happy valentines my lovers! 💛

Everything seemed perfect. And maybe that was the problem.

The restaurant you found yourself in had the perfect setting. There was the right amount of background noise: the clinking of wine glasses, muffled talking, occasional laughing in the back, and a jazz band playing the most atmospheric tunes. The lights weren’t too harsh—a pet peeve of yours—and the food was delicious, which you knew was a reason for you to return some other time. Just not with the person you were seated in front of now.

Kamil Everett was a good-looking guy. Slightly older than you, but not enough to doubt his reasons for being into you. He had the perfect jaw structure, covered in the perfect amount of neatly trimmed stubble. He had nice, white teeth, not the kind that you could tell was fake. He wore a cologne that was strong enough to notice, but not overpowering enough to bother you. He’d put effort into his hair and outfit, and he asked questions that showed interest but weren’t too invasive. He was perfect. Again, just perfect.

Still, the little devil on your shoulder nagged at you that this wasn’t what you were looking for. That something was missing, something neither Kamil nor the restaurant could give you.

You jumped in your seat when a pocket-sized Penelope with pink wings suddenly popped onto your right shoulder. Fuck, you’d been drinking too much.

“I am sick of this! Truly!” Penelope’s chipmunk voice peeped right into your ear.

“How many times have you come to me, saying, ‘Oh Penelope, someone has put a curse on me. There are no cute guys anywhere. The universe hates me’, and look at you now! Perfect guy, right over there!” Her small finger pointed at Kamil, and you pulled a sour face.

Angel Penelope responded by shaking her head in disapproval. “I will never hear you complain again. Now make sure to turn the poor thing down nicely and send him over to my place so I can give him some love.”

You chuckled at her comment.

“Are you okay?”

You choked on your red wine as Kamil spoke up. Devil you and Angel Penelope disappeared from your shoulders in a cloud of smoke. You coughed a couple of times before nodding, “Yeah, I am so fine.”

You looked at Kamil, seeing the genuine concern in his brown eyes. You knew you couldn’t continue keeping him on like that. “Actually, I think this is not going to work.”

His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean us,” you answered, pointing your finger between the two of you. “You’re a great guy. I just don’t feel… the spark.”

He scoffed under his breath, immediately standing up and pushing his chair back to the table. You grabbed his wrist as he tried walking off.

“I swear, you’re great! I’m the problem. It’s always me, actually.”

Kamil didn’t get soothed by your words, pulling his arm free out of your grasp and turning his back to you, walking toward the exit.

“I have a great friend!” you yelled after him. “She’s an angel. Literally!” He kept walking, ignoring your pleas.

“I could send you her address! Kamil!”

“Ma’am, please tone it down or I’ll have to call security.”

You looked up to find a stern-looking woman standing in front of your table. When you looked around, all the couples at the surrounding tables were staring at you. You offered them a tight-lipped smile and mouthed a small sorry.

Once the critiquing whispers calmed down, you grabbed your phone from out of your purse, finding Spencer in your emergency contacts as you clicked on the call button.

“Hey, how are you-”

You shushed him. “I’m in a restaurant, whisper, or they’ll kick me out.”

Spencer listened and lowered his voice. “The new one downtown? I’ve been meaning to go there.”

“Well, consider today your lucky day. If you can make it in fifteen minutes, I’ll have dessert ordered for you.”

You chuckled as you heard his keys jingling from the other end of the line. “I’m heading out right now.”

“Good,” you laughed. “I’ll see you then.”

-`♡´-

A sigh of relief escaped you when Spencer walked into the restaurant. He gave you a smile and lifted his hand as he spotted the table you were seated at.

You stood up from your seat, letting out a satisfied groan as he enveloped you in a hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Me too. I can’t wait for ice cream.”

You chuckled, leaning back to see his face.

“You smell nice,” he complimented.

“Oh why, thank you,” you playfully responded, grinning as you both sat down.

Spencer observed the cutlery and half-drunk glass of wine in front of him, raising an eyebrow. “I assume I’m not the first person you offered dessert to.”

“Nope,” you answered, exaggeratedly popping the p. “Was on a date.”

Spencer lifted his eyebrows. “Another one?”

“Hey, don’t judge me! At least I go on dates.”

“Does it count if they all run away before dessert?”

You scoffed a laugh in surprise, not prepared for his burn. “You’re such an ass.”

He cheekily grinned. “What was his name?”

“Kamil,” you deeply sighed, knowing you’ll be getting chills every time you hear that name from now on.

“Did you know Kamil is derived from the Arabic element kāmil? Which means “perfect” or “complete”.”

You rolled your eyes, picking up your glass before taking a sip. “Of fucking course.”

You thanked the waiter as he set two neatly made plates of dessert down on the table.

“I thought you gave up on dating,” Spencer wondered out loud, humming as he took his first bite of ice cream.

“I was,” you responded, taking a bite yourself. “Valentine’s an exception, though. I don’t want to be sitting at home by myself.”

“You could’ve asked me to come over. We still haven’t seen all the Star Wars movies,” he responded, commenting on the movie marathon you started last month. Then he pointed his spoon at you, “Well, you haven’t.”

“I know. I just meant spending the day with a lover.”

“I could be your lover.”

Before you knew it, the wine shot out of your mouth, painting your dress and the white tablecloth red.

“Are you okay?” Spencer asked in worry, hurrying to your side as you continued coughing.

“Spencer-” you coughed a couple more times, and his arms made their way around your body, your hands reaching out to pull them off. “Spencer, I swear to god,” you sputtered out, “do not perform the Heimlich on me.”

The fact that you were able to talk reassured him enough to loosen his grip around you. Still, he didn’t leave your side.

You looked down to see the inevitable: your dress was ruined.

“Fuck, I loved this dress,” you groaned in annoyance.

“Here, let me-” Spencer grabbed a napkin from the table, turning back to you and tapping your chest dry. His eyes were focused on the low neckline of your dress, and the movements of his hand slowed, as if hypnotized.

“Spencer?”

“Hm?” He hummed as he continued tapping the now non-existent wine droplets.

“Can you stop touching my boobs?”

He dropped the napkin like it caught fire.

“I-, I wasn’t-”

“You totally were,” you widely grinned.

“No!”

“Yes, you were. You’ve been staring at my boobs all night.”

Spencer swallowed. His gaze quickly landed on your cleavage before he blinked up at you. “Well, I can’t help it when you’re wearing a dress that’s showing décolletage.”

“Ha! You admitted it.”

A red flush crept up his neck, spreading over his cheeks. “That was a ploy! You were tricking me!”

“Ma’am, this is your last warning; I need you to leave the restaurant now.”

-`♡´-

The moon hung low in the sky, the streets cast in a warm yellow glow of the lampposts. A slight breeze caught your skin as you walked out of the restaurant.

“Well, that was a disaster.”

“You shouldn’t have kept insisting on a doggy bag.” Spencer laughed.

You let out a chuckle, turning to him. “Did you see the look on her face?”

Your comment spurred more laughter from Spencer, making him fall against you in response. You widely grinned and nudged his shoulder, feeling proud of getting him to laugh like that.

“This reminds me of the time when I first joined the team and you asked me to have dinner.” You recalled once your laughter had calmed down, still trying to catch your breath.

The moment felt like yesterday. It was strange to be reminded of the fact that it happened years ago. Spencer had caught your attention the instant you joined the team, which was surprising considering the fact he wasn’t a big talker. Well, he talked most out of everyone, but it always stayed on the case, rarely sharing something personal.

That’s why it surprised you that one day, on the jet after finishing a case, Spencer moved from the couch he usually found himself on to the empty chair opposite you. You remember finding it endearing how nervous he looked as he asked you to have dinner with him in a restaurant downtown.

You’d overheard the several times he asked other team members to join him in activities, whether it was a new food chain opening or a movie screening. You didn’t have the heart to tell him no. Besides that, you were curious to get to know the so-called genius Spencer Reid better. He amazed you again when the dinner turned out to be one of the times you’ve laughed hardest in your life. Since then, you knew Spencer would be at the top of your friend list.

“You seem to have a habit of spitting out your drink.” Spencer mused with a grin.

You returned his smile. “That’s because you seem to have a habit of trying to make me spit out my drink by acting like you’re in love with me.”

Due to your tipsy state, you didn’t notice the way Spencer broke eye contact, the way he nervously tapped his fingers against his pants, and how he seemed to look anywhere but at you.

If it wasn’t for the subtle shudder of your shoulder against his, he might’ve never gained the courage to look you in the face again.

“Are you cold?” He asked considerately, his eyes taking over your form.

You looked down at your outfit, reminded again that you were just wearing a sleeveless dress. “Kind of.”

Without saying another word, Spencer took off his corduroy jacket. He held it open by the sleeves, making it easy for you to slide your arms in. His hand grazed the back of your neck as he tugged the collar up, then pulled your hair out from underneath the material, letting your locks fall over the jacket.

You softly mumbled a thanks, and Spencer responded back with a sweet smile.

“It looks better on you anyway.”

You chuckled, “Such a sweet talker.”

“Just to you,” he replied, a little too fast for his liking as he saw your gaze drop to the ground.

What he wasn’t aware of was the rush of butterflies that soared through you at his words, ambushing you in a way so surprising it made you feel nauseous. Or maybe you were still feeling the effects of the alcohol.

It was ironic how naturally the compliments rolled off of his tongue, how effortlessly romantic gestures came to your friend — actions you longed for in your dates.

Spencer Reid was old-fashioned, a gentleman, sure, but you couldn’t help but wonder if there was more than just kindness to his acts. If Derek and Penelope were right every time they gave teasing looks when Spencer brought you your favorite coffee, or when he’d made sure the seat next to you on the jet was always occupied by him.

“Are you okay? You seem quiet.” Spencer noted after the two of you had walked in silence for the last couple of minutes.

“Yeah,” you breathed out in a sigh. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

His question slipped in your ears just as easily as it went out, as your attention was taken by the neon gelato sign across the street. The brightly colored flavors stood on display, a harsh white light shining down on it, luring you like a moth to a flame.

“Gelato.”

Spencer’s brows furrowed, but before he could make sense of your answer, you took a leap, crossing the street as if invincible to any vehicle that was speeding on the road.

“What are you doing?!” Spencer yelped in panic, eyes flicking over the road before sprinting after you, ignoring the honking cars.

His warm hand caught yours, and in a hurry, he pulled you onto the sidewalk, spinning you around so that your back was pressed against the brick wall, Spencer hovering over you as he caught his breath.

He blinked at you in disbelief, jaw tense, and you couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your mouth.

“Have you lost your mind?”

“We’re all mad here,” you dramatically quote, pointing to yourself, “I’m mad,” and then placing your hand on his chest, “you’re mad.”

“Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland,” he mumbled.

You nodded your head, a wide grin displayed on your face.

“So… gelato?” you asked, wiggling your brows.

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh. “You just had ice cream.”

“Actually, I just had half an ice cream before they kicked us out. And it is not to be compared to gelato. You should know that.”

“Well, gelato does have a lower milk fat content. It usually varies between 4 to 9%, whereas ice cream has to have at least 10% of milk fat. The vast majority of brands have an even larger percentage, some even going up to 25%. Actually, now that you mention it, there are a lot more differences between American ice cream and gelato, for example, the use of eggs-”

You hummed in response as you took his hand in yours, letting him continue his ramblings as you guided him into the parlor.

-`♡´-

Your feet were dangling off the high chair you were sitting on as you licked the red plastic spoon clean that came with your dessert.

“I haven’t properly thanked you for helping me earlier. You really are my Valentines savior.”

Spencer smiled, pulling a lock of hair behind his ear. “I didn’t mind. You can always call me.”

“I know,” you replied just as honestly. “I wish it could be as easy as this with others. I wish I could just date you.”

A flush crept onto his neck, red skin showing on his chest where his top buttons were unbuttoned. “Why-” he hesitated before continuing, “Why can’t you?”

“Why can’t I what?” you asked back in oblivion, scooping another spoonful of gelato.

His fingers fidgeted with his spoon, his gaze nervously fixed on his empty cup as he spoke the next words: “Date me.”

Oh.

The longer you remained silent, the thicker the tension grew in the air. It wasn’t like you didn’t have any thoughts; hell, your mind was full of them. Your earlier theories flashed through your mind again, now getting the confirmation that all his attempts to be close to you meant more than solely friendship. How he had indeed tried telling you about his feelings all this time, and how you’d been blatantly oblivious. How you kept telling him about going on dates with other people while he was pining over you. There were too many thoughts to articulate, to even make sense of.

“Please say something,” his voice cracked in a soft beg, his eyes twinkling with hope, or maybe an emotion closer to desperation.

“I- I don’t know what to say.”

The spark in his eyes flickered out. Spencer mouthed okay while giving you an awkward, tight-lipped smile, his hands finding their way into the pockets of his pants.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, he said to you, “Let me walk you home.”

-`♡´-

People always say fresh air is the answer to everything. Feeling sick as a dog? Go outside! Feeling depressed? Go outside! On the verge of a nervous breakdown? Go outside! Turns out whoever invented going on long walks had a point.

Your mind cleared with every step you took. Your initial anxieties around Spencer’s words fade around you in a blur. Slowly coming to peace with his feelings and your own.

Dating your best friend could work.

Spencer, on the opposite, felt more tense after each second that passed in silence. It wasn’t that he regretted being honest with you; the weight of his love for you was overwhelming. It was inevitable that there’d come a time where he’d spill his thoughts. However, he shouldn’t have done it like this, with you not even sober enough to understand the gravity of his words.

So, when you rounded the corner of the street and he spotted your house, which was all too familiar to him, he knew he had to retract his confession.

“I shouldn’t have said that earlier. I just… like you. A lot.” He rubbed his forearms, either in a nervous habit or because the cold was getting to him. “And I thought you felt the same, but I’m aware that it’s irrational because, well, you go on dates. And you go on dates with people you like and-“

“Spencer,” you interrupted, having to catch his eyes to get him to focus.

“I know it was inappropriate to confess that I’m in love with you when you’re not even sober. Alcohol interferes with the communication pathways of the brain, so this might be the worst moment possible to admit to something like this.”

“You’re in love with me?”

This caught Spencer’s attention. He focused on you with a puzzled look. “Well, technically I asked you why you wouldn’t want to date me, but I-”

The words died on his tongue the second your lips found his. It felt like you finally got the confirmation you’d always longed for. Someone that knew you inside out, who understood you, and who wasn’t afraid of showing you.

Spencer’s mind was spinning. His hands hovered awkwardly in the air before he settled them on your cheeks, holding you as if afraid you’d disappear.

It was only after a couple of seconds that his IQ regained from 60 to 187, using his hands to gently pull you back from his lips.

His lips remained slightly parted, pink and swollen from the kiss, and his eyes narrowed in overwhelming confusion. “What was that for?”

“That was to show you that I love you too.”

“You can’t just say something like that.”

“But I mean it, Spence,” you stated in confidence. “I was stupid for not seeing it before. For some reason, it felt like you and I were impossible. The thought never occurred to me that we could date. We’ve been friends for so long. But you’re the only one who actually cares, the only one who stays, and I see that now.”

His eyes watered at the creaking of your voice, but he blinked the upcoming tears away. He took a deep breath. Selfishly, he didn’t want to say the next words, satisfied living in the delusion that you loved him back, but he knew he had to stay objective.

“Alcohol consumption also heightens emotions.”

“I know what I’m feeling, Spencer,” you assured. “I’ve just… I’ve been afraid of you leaving me as well, of seeing me as not lovable enough, that I didn’t even consider it a possibility.”

You let out a small self-deprecating laugh, making his heart ache.

“Just give me another chance, please. I will not be so oblivious this time,” you spoke, the corner of your mouth slightly lifted.

His expression mirrored yours, and he gently grasped your hands, his thumbs running over them to bring you comfort. “Can you call me tomorrow?”

You looked up at him.

“If, uh, you still feel the same when you’re sober, we could talk about it.”

There was nothing you were more certain of at that moment. Still, you nodded.

-`♡´-

The buzzing of his phone on the nightstand was enough for Spencer to wake up with a pounding headache. His mind had worked overtime yesterday, rolling in bed in anxiety, waking up every fifteen minutes, and now he was experiencing the physical side effects of it.

“Hello?” he answered, pressing the device against his ear, too sleepy to have checked who called.

“Spencer?”

At the sound of your voice, he sat straight up in bed, his back leaning against the wooden headboard.

He cleared his throat. “H-hi, yes, it’s me.”

There was no pause on the other end of the line, your words determined. “I still love you.”

He leaned forward, pressing the phone closer to his ear, in an attempt to absorb your words.

“I’m really happy to hear that.” His fingertips skimmed along his jawline, in need of proof that he was awake, that this was actually happening. “I love you too. Still. Right now. Always, probably.”

You chuckled at his nervous rambling, hearing him breathlessly laugh in reply.

“Good. Because I don’t want to waste any more time second-guessing.”

“You shouldn’t worry. You won’t be able to get rid of me. I won’t leave you.”

He meant the words in a light, joking manner, but still your heart happily pounded at the sentence.

“Neither will I.”

[hyuckiefluff]

Dr. Dreamy | Part 2

pairing: doctor!na jaemin x fem reader genre: smut wc: 5.1k summary: you’re the best valentine’s day gift jaemin’s ever had the pleasure of unwrapping. content warning: explicit sexual content, some bdsm-ish stuff (bondage), temperature play, breast play, usage of sex toys, multiple orgasms, edging, fingering, oral sex (m. receiving), mating press, lmk if i missed any! a/n: couldn’t wait for valentine’s day to post this sooo here it is (granted, over a month late) but i hope it makes up for the wait and satisfies all those who were craving a part two <3 thank you so much for reading and loving the first part. also, if you wanna chat or just see me in my natural habitat, hit me up on ig @/jenokosmo. ps: read part 1 for the plot, this one is purely smut. oh and it feels important to add that juno by sabrina carpenter was on repeat while writing this. “have you tried this one?” picture jaemin saying that lol

part 1

Valentine’s Day had been exhausting for Jaemin. He barely had the energy to even think. The hospital was a madhouse. He’d never expected that so many injuries would come from couples trying something new with their partners. By the time he clocked out, it was already 11 PM, and he couldn’t shake the guilt gnawing at him for missing your first Valentine’s Day together. 

But as soon as he stepped through the door, his thoughts of guilt disappeared. There you were, lounging on the couch, eating strawberries. You were wearing nothing but the skimpiest piece of lingerie he’d ever seen before.

His breath caught in his throat as your gaze fell on him, a slow smile curling on your lips. “Long day?” you asked, your voice dripping with sweetness.

Jaemin’s throat tightened, but he managed to choke out a response. “Yeah… you could say that.” His voice cracked slightly as his eyes scanned over your body. “You look....”

“Good, I hope?” You giggled softly when he couldn’t finish his sentence.

“Absolutely,” he said, swallowing hard. “…Are you trying to kill me?”

You smiled and stood up slowly, giving him a full view of your curves. His gaze followed your every movement as you sauntered toward him. You stopped just inches from him, his body stiffening in anticipation. His hands ached to touch you.

“What’s the matter?” you teased, pressing your body against his lightly. “You look like you want something.”

Jaemin bit back a smirk, trying to hold on to his composure. He leaned in, brushing your hair back from your neck, his lips grazing your skin. “And you look like you're offering something.”

You laughed, the sound of it making him feel lighter, but he couldn’t ignore the way his heart pounded in his chest, or the tightness between his legs that was only growing. You seemed to notice it too, your hand slipping down his chest. “I think you might be right,” you said with a wink.

Jaemin tried to maintain some semblance of self-control, but his hands betrayed him by wandering to your waist on their own. You flinched slightly from the coldness and he smiled at that.

"You know," he said, with a half-smirk, "I'm not that easy." There was a playful challenge in his eyes. "You have to try harder than this."

“Oh, really?” you grinned, your voice dripping with mock innocence. "Well, I think I can manage."

He felt the heat in his body surge just thinking about what you had planned for him. When you turned and began leading him to your room, he couldn’t help but let his eyes trace every curve of your body, lingering on the flimsy string of fabric between your cheeks—just a bow for him to undo.

Jaemin followed you into the bedroom, his mouth going agape at the sight. Candles flickered softly on the bedside tables, and rose petals were scattered across the floor and on the bed. The whole scene looked straight out of a movie, but it was real, and it was for him.

“Wow,” he murmured, genuinely impressed. “Princess, this is amazing. I should’ve done this for you…” His voice dropped, a slight frown forming as he looked at you.

“You can do it next year,” you replied, and the fact that you were already planning another Valentine’s Day with him made his heart swell. You closed the space between you, pulling him down by his neck and kissing along his jaw.

“You must be tired,” you whispered against his skin.

Jaemin's hands roamed over your back, cupping your ass making you gasp at the sudden touch. When your lips parted, he took the opportunity to kiss you. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, tasting the strawberries you’d been eating.

“Not anymore,” he whispered, lifting you up by your hips, your legs locked around his waist. He carried you to the bed, never breaking the kiss, his lips moving against yours with need.

You pulled away, and for a moment he thought you would kiss him again. Instead, you gently pushed him down onto the bed and guided him to lie back. His chest rose and fell with anticipation, lips parted as you climbed over him and settled on top. He stayed still, pretending to be unaffected, but you noticed the way his muscles tensed as he fought to hold back.

"I want to try something new," you said, your voice laced with playful daring.

Jaemin raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Oh? Do I get a say in this?”

You paused for a moment before tugging his shirt up and over his head, letting your fingers graze his skin as you did. Your gaze roamed over him slowly, as if committing every inch to memory. His broad shoulders, abs that tensed whenever he took a breath, the faint happy trail he’d stopped shaving just because you said you liked it, the love bites still lingering on his chest from the other night.  

Reaching for his hand, you guided it to the delicate bow at the center of your bra, your lips curling into a teasing smile. “Go on,” you murmured, “unwrap your present.”

Jaemin raised an eyebrow, smirking. He tugged on the bow and the bra fell open, exposing your breasts. He couldn’t help the soft, reverent exhale that escaped him. “Fuck…” he groaned, his hands reaching to touch you, but you stopped him with a soft but firm hand on his shoulder.

“Ah, ah,” you tutted, leaning in to kiss the frown from his face. “Let me take care of you first.” 

Jaemin opened his mouth to protest, but then you were gone. He saw you searching in the drawer, and when you returned to the bed, you had something hidden behind your back. You leaned in close, whispering in his ear.

“Do you trust me, Jaem?”

He nodded, his voice barely a whisper. “Of course.”

Then, you pulled out a blindfold, and he froze, anticipation and excitement flooding his system in equal parts “What are you planning, love?” he asked, his tone soft but amused.

“Something you’ll really like,” you whispered, placing a kiss below his ear.

Jaemin chuckled nervously, shivering slightly. “Should I be worried?”

You only smiled, slipping the blindfold over his eyes. He swallowed hard, his heart pounding as his world went dark. His other senses immediately heightened and he tensed when he felt you reach for his wrists.

The soft touch of silk against his skin made him flinch. “Wait—what are you—” His breath hitched as you wrapped the restraints carefully around him.

His fingers twitched, an instinctive urge to move, but the fabric held him firm. He gave a small, experimental tug, testing the hold, and a shiver ran through him when he realized he couldn’t easily free himself. There was something almost dizzying about being kept like this, unable to touch you, forced to wait. The helplessness only made his excitement burn hotter.

“Wow,” he mused, voice light but strained, “Are we into bondage now?”  

Despite his attempt at humor, you didn’t miss the way his chest rose and fell a little faster when you gave the restraints a small tug.  

You leaned in, letting your lips ghost against his ear. “I want to see if you can last…” you whispered, your breath sending another shiver down his spine.  

Jaemin swallowed, his smirk faltering just slightly. “What do you mean…” he asked, careful now, as if realizing he’d just walked into a trap.  

You didn’t answer right away, and the silence only deepened the anticipation clawing at him. He tried to keep his breathing steady, to act unaffected, but the combination of the blindfold, the restraints, and the sheer uncertainty of what you’d do next made it impossible to be calm.  

And then…cold.  

A sharp gasp tore from his lips as the ice cube slid across his chest, its sudden chill stealing the breath from his lungs. His entire body stiffened, muscles flexing against the cold shock.

“God—fuck…” he cursed breathlessly. He yanked at the restraints, desperate to get away from the bite of the ice but craving more of your touch at the same time. “You really like torturing me, huh?”

You laughed softly, a wicked note in your voice. “Torture? No…” you murmured, trailing the ice lower, just skimming the waistband of his pants. “I just want to see how far you’ll let me go to make sure you feel really good.”

Jaemin let out a strained breath, his fingers flexing against the restraints. He was still trying to hold onto some shred of composure, but his body was betraying him. He felt himself grow harder in his pants and he wanted to beg for you to release him but he didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of seeing him break down so easily.

“Tell me, Jaem… have you ever touched yourself on a particularly chilly night?” you asked, your voice smooth and teasing.  

“What—…” His breath hitched when you slid the ice cube lower, past his hip bones. “I… I don’t know… I suppose so,” he said, his voice cracking slightly.  

“Did your cold fingers feel nice?” you continued, drawing the ice in slow circles on his skin. “Did you like it?”  

Jaemin was trying to focus on your words, but the heightened sensation of the cold against his burning skin was making it impossible to think. The contrast was overwhelming, making his hips jerk involuntarily.  

“I—fuck… I guess so,” he breathed.  

Without warning, you pulled his pants down along with his boxers. His cock sprang free, slapping against his lower abdomen and startling both of you. 

“You seem excited,” you said, letting your finger graze the side of his shaft. His breath stuttered as he tensed, his chest rising and falling rapidly.  

The next thing he felt was cold sliding over his tip.  

“Shit—” he gasped, his whole body jerking as he tried to sit up, hunching over in a desperate attempt to regain some control. His bound wrists strained against the silk restraints, but they gave him no leeway. And then you did it again, this time, dragging the ice along the side of his cock, the sensation both shocking and exquisite.

“Fuck… th-that feels weird…” he shivered slightly.

His lips were red and wet from how he kept biting them, trying not to moan too loudly.  

You leaned in, kitten-licking the tip while still holding the ice against him.  

“Wait—” he moaned, his hips bucking up instinctively.  

With one last teasing kiss to his tip, you pulled back, watching the way he twitched, the way his body practically vibrated with pent-up need.  

“Looks like you’re ready to play.”  

Jaemin exhaled shakily. The way you were handling him was so different to what he was used to. He was always the one setting the pace, pulling pleasure from you at his leisure. But now, you had him completely at your mercy. And the craziest part was how much he was enjoying it.  

He heard more movement, some shuffling and the quiet creak of the mattress as you settled back in front of him. His muscles tensed in anticipation, his whole body straining against the restraints. He wanted to reach for you, to pull you down and take what he needed but all he could do was wait.

“Jaem, do you know what a cock ring is?” you asked, your voice so soft and innocent that for a second, he thought he must’ve misheard you.  

“Hm?” His brain was lagging, too focused on the lingering cold of the ice cube melting against him. Then your words sank in. “Yeah,” he swallowed.  

“Good,” you hummed, and before he could react, he felt your warm hand wrap around him, pumping once, just enough to make his hips twitch, to make a moan escape his throat before he could swallow it down.  

And then something hard pressed against his dick.  

“Fuck—” he hissed, his body tensing as you carefully slid the cock ring into place. His sensitivity was already heightened, and the combination of your touch and the unfamiliar tightness made him shudder.  

“I want you to hold on as much as you can,” you murmured, trailing your fingers up his stomach, nails lightly scratching at his skin. “Can you do that for me?”  

Jaemin groaned, tugging at the restraints in frustration. “You’re so fucking unfair.”  

You giggled, pressing a kiss to his hip bone. “I’ll take that as a yes.”  

Jaemin’s breath came in sharp, uneven pants as you pulled away, leaving him aching for more. His head tilted back, exposing the long line of his throat as he swallowed hard, trying to remain as calm as possible. 

“Fuck,” he exhaled, his voice shaky. His fingers clenched and unclenched where they were bound, his knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping nothing. “You’re really trying to kill me…”

You only smiled, still running your nails lightly down his torso, making his abs twitch. “You’re being so dramatic, Jaem.”  

His head snapped up at that, eyes still blindfolded, but his frustration was written all over his face. “Dramatic?” He let out a humorless laugh. “Princess, I’m so fucking hard it hurts, and you’re just—” He groaned, pulling against the restraints again. “God, you’re such a fucking tease.”  

You hummed as if considering his words, then leaned in, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss just below his navel. “But it looks like you’re enjoying it.”  

Jaemin’s hips twitched, but he still managed a weak scoff. “I’d enjoy it more if you actually fucking did something.” His voice was strained, cracking at the edges.

You let your hand drift lower again, wrapping around him with a slowness that had him sucking in a sharp breath. “Is this what you want?” you murmured, your fingers squeezing just enough to make him twitch in your grasp.  

“Fuck—yes, that’s what I fucking want—”  

You gave a single stroke, dragging your hand up his length at an agonizing pace.  

Jaemin let out a throaty whimper, and the sound only intensified the heat pooling in your lower belly.  

His chest heaved as his thighs trembled. His whole body jerked, but the cock ring kept him from reaching the release he desperately chased.

“Oh my god,” he choked out, his voice practically a whine. “Princess, please, I need—”  

You tightened your grip slightly, cutting him off with another slow, teasing stroke. His hips bucked into your hand, but it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t fucking enough, and the frustration in his voice was turning into something dangerously close to begging.  

“Please what, Jaemin?” you asked, tilting your head.  

His lip was pulled between his teeth so hard it was turning red, his whole body trembling from restraint. “Please, just—fuck, I don’t even know—just something, please, princess, I can’t—”  

His voice cracked again, revealing his desperation in every syllable. He was completely wrecked, yet still nowhere near getting what he wanted.  

And that was exactly how you wanted him.  

When your mouth dropped down on his dick again, you took in more than just the tip this time. You sucked and licked him just the way you knew he liked.

“God… oh god,” he groaned, his hips jerking up instinctively, but you kept him firmly in place, pressing down on his thighs.  

“Be good,” you murmured against his swollen tip, lips brushing the heat of him. “Or I’ll stop.”  

Jaemin let out a shaky breath, his fingers twitching at his sides, unable to do anything but take what you were giving him. “Fuck… you’re so—” His voice broke into a strangled gasp as you sank back down, taking him deeper, your tongue swirling along his length. 

He was losing control. His thighs trembled under your touch, ragged gasps escaping his lips. His body was already screaming for release, but the cock ring kept him stuck on that unbearable edge, holding him in a storm of pure, agonizing pleasure.

“I can’t… anymore… please.” His voice was strained, broken apart by breathless moans. “Please, take it off.”  

You pulled back just enough to let your breath fan over his tip. “Take what off, Jaem?”  

“Everything,” he choked out. “Let me touch you… let me see you… let me fuck you…please.”  

The little laugh you let out made his stomach tighten painfully. If he wasn’t so desperate, he would’ve held out longer just to make you work for it. But he was past the point of caring about winning right now.

“Well…” You let your hands caress down his thighs, feeling the way his muscles clenched under your touch. “I think you’ve been patient enough.”  

The first thing to come off was the blindfold. Jaemin blinked rapidly as his eyes adjusted, the dim light in the room almost blinding after what felt like hours in the dark. His gaze flickered over your form, hovering over him like a lioness about to pounce. Fuck, he forgot you were braless. His hands twitched against the restraints, desperate to touch you.

Then his eyes dropped lower. His dick was painfully swollen, red at the tip, the cock ring still keeping him from the relief he needed. His breath caught as you reached down, fingers brushing his base before you finally removed it. The rush of sensation that followed had his whole body tensing, his abs clenching as he gasped through the sudden overwhelming relief. He was seconds away from—  

You moved to undo the silk restraints, and the moment his wrists were free, he lunged.  

You let out a sharp squeal as he grabbed your arm and yanked you down, pressing your body flush against his chest. In one quick movement, he flipped you onto your back, looming over you with a wicked, predatory grin.  

“Shouldn’t have fucking released me, princess,” he growled, voice still rough from moaning. He licked his lips, eyes raking down your body like he was deciding where to ruin you first. “You’re gonna take everything I give you now.”  

There was no fear in your gaze—only pure, smoldering desire.  

Jaemin’s lips crashed against yours, devouring you, tongue sliding past your lips as his hands finally claimed your body. His fingers found your breasts, squeezing, teasing, all while his hips rolled against your barely clothed core.  

Then, he flipped you onto your stomach. You gasped, feeling his body press against your back, his lips tracing a heated path from your shoulder to the nape of your neck.  

“Wanted to do this since I walked through that door,” he muttered, voice thick with lust. He hooked his fingers into the delicate lace of your underwear, undoing the tiny bow with a slow pull. His eyes went dark with greed and desire when he saw it fall apart and expose your bare backside to him. 

He kissed along your spine, then rocked his hips against your ass with a shuddering sigh before flipping you over again.  

You were already breathless, your mind hazy, and he still hadn’t even touched you where you needed him most.  

But then, just when you thought he was going to finally take you—he suddenly grabbed your ankles and yanked you down the bed, shifting you so you were face-to-face with his abs.  

Your brows furrowed in confusion, until you felt his dick sliding between your breasts.  

“Gonna let me fuck your tits, princess?” he murmured, voice husky.  

Heat pooled in your stomach at his words, and without hesitation, you pressed your hands against the sides of your chest, squeezing your breasts together, trapping him between them.  

Jaemin groaned, the sound deep and raw, before spitting onto your chest to lubricate the area.

You gasped softly, the sheer filth of it making your thighs squeeze together, but Jaemin was also too far gone to tease you about it. He let out a low, guttural fuck as he thrust, slow at first, watching himself slide between the plushness of your breasts.  

“Shit…” His breathing was heavy, his fringe damp with sweat, his jaw slack as he fucked into the tight heat of your chest. “Letting me fuck your perfect tits—fuck.”  

The sounds filling the room were obscene. The wet slide of his dick against your skin, the breathy moans slipping from his lips, the quiet, desperate whimpers coming from you.  

Your legs clenched again, seeking friction, your own arousal dripping down your thighs.  

Jaemin’s rhythm faltered. His thrusts grew uneven, more desperate. “I’m—fuck, I’m close—”  

Suddenly, his hand was on your jaw, tilting your head up.  

“Open for me, princess.”  

You parted your lips instinctively, watching through hazy, lidded eyes as he pumped himself, working himself closer and closer—until the first warm spurts landed across your chest and tongue. His thumb swiped through the mess on your chest, and before you could even react, he brought it to your lips.  

“Taste.” His voice was hoarse.  

Your tongue flicked out to catch it. His breath stuttered as he watched you.  

“Fuck,” he exhaled, his fingers pressing against your tongue just a second longer before pulling away. His cock twitched against your stomach, already getting hard again.

You let out a small whimper, rubbing your thighs together, the ache between your legs only growing sharper.  

Jaemin caught the movement immediately.  

“Oh?” He smirked, eyes flicking down to where you were shamelessly pressing your legs together for any friction. “You want more?”  

You whined, squirming.  

He hummed, as if amused. “Poor thing.”  

“Jaem…” Your voice came out as a whimper, breathless, desperate.  

His smirk deepened. He loved seeing you this way—helpless, needy, falling apart before he even touched you properly. 

But he wasn’t going to make it easy.  

“What’s wrong, princess?” His hand ghosted over your stomach before slipping between your legs, fingertips grazing your soaked folds. “You need help?”  

You bucked your hips, but he barely applied any pressure, making you whimper in protest.  

You let out a frustrated sob, moving to take over yourself, but his hand shot out and gripped your wrist, pinning it to the mattress.  

“Ah, ah! We can’t have that,” he tsked, eyes flashing dark. 

The next thing you know, your hand is being replaced with his own, two fingers sliding through your folds. Your entire body jolted at the contact.  

Jaemin groaned, pressing his forehead against yours. “Shit, you’re so wet, princess,” he murmured, dragging his fingers through your slick before pressing them against your swollen clit. “You like having my cock between those pretty tits that much?”  

You barely managed a nod, too lost in the feeling of his fingers teasing you.

“Such a messy little thing,” he teased, rubbing slow, agonizing circles over your clit, just enough to make you desperate, but not enough to give you what you needed. “I should make you wait. Make you beg for it.”  

“Jaemin—”  

His fingers pushed in, stretching you, filling you just enough to make you gasp.  

“Holy fuck,” Jaemin groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder. His cock was already leaking against your thigh, his body trembling as he tried to hold himself back. “You’re so tight. You’re gonna fucking choke my fingers.”  

He pumped his fingers in and out, slow but deep, so deep you were writhing beneath him.  

“Jaem, please—” Your walls clenched, thighs trembling.  

“Hm?” He purred. “Tell me exactly what you want.”  

Your eyes were glassy, your body begging for it. “Please, just fuck me.”  

Jaemin let out a sharp exhale, visibly shaking as he tried to hold himself back.  

“You—” His voice broke. He looked down, seeing how you were practically dripping down his fingers, and groaned, cursing under his breath. “Jesus Christ.”  

His fingers slipped out with a wet, filthy sound. Before you could even whine, he grabbed your thighs, spreading you wide and pressing the head of his cock against your entrance.  

Your breath caught.  

But he didn’t push in.  

He just teased, rubbing himself between your folds, coating himself in your slick. He watched with dark, hooded eyes as you twitched beneath him, whimpering at every brush of his cock against your swollen clit.

“You want it?” His voice dripped with sin.

“Jaem—”

“Beg for it.”

The jerk was using your own tricks against you.

Now, you were regretting edging him earlier, because this… this felt like hell.

You whined, your nails digging into his arms. “Please, Jaem. Please. I need you. I need your cock inside me, I—fuck—I can’t—”  

That was enough for him. With a wrecked groan, he slammed inside you in one stroke, bottoming out so deep you saw white.  

A choked cry left your lips, your entire body arching off the mattress.  

“Oh my fucking god—” Jaemin’s voice broke, his hands gripping your thighs so hard you were sure it would bruise.  

He was shaking, breathing ragged, his cock twitching inside you as he tried not to cum right then and there.  You were so tight, so wet, so warm. He felt like he was going insane.

“You—” His voice was strained, wrecked. “You feel so fucking good, princess.”  

His thrusts punched the breath out of you, slamming into you so deep you felt it in your stomach, your walls clenching around him like a vice.  

“Holy shit—fuck—” Jaemin groaned, his hips snapping against yours in a brutal rhythm. “You’re so tight—I can feel you fucking squeezing me—”  

You couldn’t even form words, just moaned and whimpered, nails raking down his back.  

Jaemin growled, grabbing the backs of your knees, pushing them up and folding you beneath him.  

The angle —oh god—the angle had his cock hitting so deep it left you shaking, your mouth falling open in a silent scream.  

“There we go,” Jaemin groaned, watching you writhe under him. “That’s the spot, isn’t it?”  

“Jae—Jaemin—”  

“Shhh,” he cooed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re taking me so well, princess. So, so well.”  

His fingers found your clit, rubbing fast. The pleasure crashing over you all at once.  

“Cum for me, baby,” Jaemin rasped, barely holding himself together. “Make a fucking mess on my cock.”  

Your orgasm tore through you, so intense your vision blurred, your entire body shaking under him as you cried out his name.  

Jaemin groaned, feeling you clench around him. His hips stuttered as he buried himself deep, moaning against your throat as he came again, filling you completely.  

For a moment, neither of you moved. Just heavy breathing and shaking limbs.  

Jaemin finally lifted his head, sweat-damp hair clinging to his forehead, eyes dark.

He smirked a cat-like smile.

“I hope you don't think we’re done.”  

He was still inside you, his cock twitching, throbbing, still semi-hard despite just coming deep inside you. He could feel you clenching weakly around him.

You didn’t want it to be done.

You felt empty, even with his cock still buried inside you. You needed more, needed all of him, needed him to ruin you completely.

And he could tell.  

Jaemin tilted his head as his fingers dug into your thighs, keeping them spread wide for him. His thumbs traced slow circles into your skin both soothing and possessive, a silent reminder that you weren’t going anywhere.  

“Think you can handle more?” The low rumble of his voice had you feeling dizzy.  

You nodded, too fucked out to form anything coherent.  

He hummed, pretending to consider. “Now that I think about it… you were pretty mean to me earlier.” His hands slid lower, gripping your ass and giving it a sharp squeeze that made you jolt. “Do you even deserve it?”  

“Yes—yes, please, Jaem—”  

He laughed, a breathy chuckle that broke apart into something rougher, needier.  

“Insatiable little thing.”  

And then he was pulling out achingly slow, dragging every inch of himself through your trembling walls. The friction sent a helpless whimper tumbling from your lips.

Jaemin nearly lost his mind at the sound.  

He stared down at you, his ruined, pretty girl. Face flushed, hair sticking to your damp skin, lips swollen and parted, body still twitching from the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

He growled, gripping your waist and flipping you onto your stomach in one swift movement.  

You gasped, heart pounding as Jaemin manhandled you effortlessly, positioning you exactly how he wanted with your chest pressed to the mattress and ass high in the air.

He moaned, running his hands down your spine, over the curve of your hips, before gripping your ass and spreading you open for him.  

“Look at you,” he breathed, watching the way your slick dripped down your thighs, his own cum still leaking from your core.  

His cock throbbed painfully at the sight.  

“Fuck, baby, I made such a mess of you.”  

You whimpered, pushing your hips back toward him, trying to tempt him. But Jaemin only smirked, rubbing the tip of his cock against your entrance, teasing you, making you squirm.  

“What do you want, princess?” His voice was low, smug.

You whined, pressing your face into the pillow, trying to grind back against him.

“Jaem—please—”  

He tutted, gripping your hips to hold you still. “You’re so cute when you beg.”  

Then, he slid inside you again, slowly making you feel every inch. You cried out, hands gripping the sheets desperately.

Jaemin groaned, rolling his hips slow but deep. His cock pressing against a spot that made black spots appear in your vision.  

“Oh, my god—”  

“That’s it,” he praised, gripping your waist tighter. Watching the way your back arched, how you clenched around him so perfectly.  

He was so deep like this, hitting angles that had you completely unraveling beneath him.

“God, you’re perfect for me,” he groaned, his hips snapping forward just a little harder, making you choke on your breath.  

His hands traveled down, reaching for your arms, and before you could even react, he pulled you up, pressing your back against his chest. One hand snaking around your waist, the other gripping your throat lightly.

Your moan was sinful, body trembling as Jaemin fucked up into you, the new position letting him bury himself impossibly deep.  

“Shit—” Jaemin choked out, pressing his lips to your sweaty temple. 

His free hand slid down your stomach, two fingers finding your clit, rubbing torturous circles in time with his thrusts.  

You gasped sharply, hands grabbing at his wrists.  

“Too much?” He teased, his voice taunting, but the way he was shaking against you, the way his thrusts were growing sloppier, told you he was just as close as you were. 

You could only moan, pleasure overwhelming you, his cock dragging against that perfect spot over and over, his fingers pushing you closer—

“Cum for me again, princess.” He said, lips pressed to your jaw, groaning with every thrust.  “I want to feel you squeeze me.”  

And just like that another orgasm crashed over you, your walls clamping down on him so tight he nearly screamed.  

Jaemin cursed, feeling you pulsing around him, dragging him straight into his own orgasm. 

“Fuck—fuck—fuck—” His body convulsed, hips stuttering as he filled you up once more, letting go with a strangled moan against your throat.

Jaemin finally collapsed, pulling you down with him. He wrapped himself around you, pressing lazy kisses to your bare shoulder.  

His arms tightened, as if he never wanted to let you go.  

“God,” Jaemin exhaled, still breathless, lips brushing against your ear.

“I think I might have broken you, princess.”  

divider creds toastray

my inbox is always open for any comments/feedback about the fic <3

[fandoms-x-reader]

Apologize

Requested Anonymously

Headcannons

Summary: The brothers say something too harsh to MC so MC refuses to talk to them or interact with them. The Seven Demon Brothers x Reader Word Count: 8,242

It wasn’t unusual for Lucifer to get snappy with others.

He was constantly overworked and over exhausted and his brothers liked to cause as much trouble for him as possible.

But, no matter how tired he was, Lucifer always did his best to keep his composure around you.

He had been working really hard on a specific project for Lord Diavolo recently and you could see how tired he was.

You made frequent trips to his study, bringing him his favorite drink and massaging his shoulders whenever you could to try to help.

But, now Lucifer was barely able to keep his eyes open anymore and you couldn’t stand to see him like this.

You carefully approached him and gently rubbed his arm, taking a seat next to him. He didn’t even look up from his papers.

“Lucifer, I think you should take a break,” you told him honestly.

“I don’t have time for that Y/N,” he replied, continuing to work.

“At least for a little bit? A break would do you some good,” you tried again, and he let out an irritated sigh.

“I already told you, I don’t have time for that,” he reiterated, more annoyed this time. 

But, you were really worried about him, so you didn’t want to give up so easily.

“Lucifer,” you began again and he slammed his hand down on his desk making you let out a small gasp.

“What I’m doing is important and I need to concentrate, so if you’re just going to keep pestering me then just leave because, at this point, all you are is a nuisance,” he stated coldly.

You looked at him for a moment, feeling the sting of his words but not knowing how to react. He didn’t even care enough to see that his words had hurt you.

“Fine,” you muttered before getting up and leaving his study.

 Lucifer was really in the thick of it with work so he didn’t even realize the words that he had said and how they must have hurt you until later.

He was still in his study and he sat back in his chair, rolling shoulders as he let out a small groan of pain. They were sore from spending so much time in the same position. Usually, you would try and massage them to help prevent them from getting to this point.

He then looked down at his teacup and noticed that it was completely empty and had been for a while. But, you always made sure to bring him his favorite drink so that he could continue to work.

That’s when Lucifer began thinking back to the last time he saw you enter his study and what happened the last time. 

He let out a deep sigh as he replayed the words he had said to you in his head. Surely, you knew that he didn’t mean them, right? He loved you and you had to know that.

He wanted nothing more than to go and apologize to you but he had to keep working. It was his responsibility.

Meanwhile, you avoided Lucifer’s study at all costs. You were just trying to help Lucifer and if he couldn’t see that then you didn’t have anything else to say to him.

Lucifer only lasted one day without seeing you when he started to grow concerned. He tried sending you a couple of text messages, not wanting to leave his study, but he was met with crickets and he couldn’t stand it any longer.

He had reached a point in the project where, perhaps, he could take a small break and he immediately went to your bedroom, knocking on your door.

There was no answer and while he was tempted to break it down to make sure you weren’t in there ignoring him, he kept his composure.

You had just come back from the kitchen, a drink in hand when you saw Lucifer standing in front of your bedroom door.

You stopped in your tracks as the two of you made eye contact and you took in his appearance.

He looked even more miserable than he did the last time you saw him.

Neither of you said anything for a few moments, just staring at each other.

After another moment, you spun on your heels, trying to retreat back to the kitchen.

Lucifer was in front of you in an instant, inches away from you and the close proximity itself was enough to start revitalizing him.

“Are you avoiding me?” he asked, his deep voice wanting to make you swoon after not hearing it for an entire day. But, you stood your ground.

“Why shouldn’t I be? Since I’m just a nuisance to you and all,” you replied, your eyes filled with noticeable seriousness and hurt.

It took a lot to make Lucifer falter, but when you threw his words to you back at him, he nearly winced as if you slapped him.

He took a step closer to you before telling you, “You know that I don’t really think that.”

You let out a small sigh as you looked down to the ground and Lucifer realized that maybe he had really messed up this time. Maybe you really didn’t know how he truly felt about you. 

He gently raised your chin with one of his gloved hands so that you were looking at him before gently pressing his lips on yours in an intimate kiss.

When he pulled away, his eyes locked with you as he told you, “You could never be a nuisance to me, because I love you.”

And those were the words you were waiting to hear - the ones that always made you swoon even if you were mad at him.

“Please, come back and join me in my study,” he asked, his hand dropping down to interlace his fingers with yours.

Under his intense gaze, you couldn’t help but feel your resolve cracking as you allowed him to lead you to his study.

Once there, you told Lucifer, “You still have some making up to do.” Lucifer smirked slightly at your words before sitting down on his chair and pulling you into his lap.

You nearly spilled your drink at his actions and his smirk only grew. “I still have some work to do, but this way, I can pay attention to you as well,” he told you, one arm wrapping around you to keep you in place while the other continued to write on the document in front of him.

You opened your mouth to reply, but Lucifer continued to speak before you could, his lips inches from your ear as he told you, “Then, when I’m done with this, you can have my full attention.”

Mammon had just completed a long photoshoot for a magazine that wanted him to be his model.

It was a lot of work, but the paycheck was worth it and he already knew what he wanted to do with it. Take you on a date!

Mammon was so excited to take you out that you couldn’t help but say yes.

He was always in a good mood whenever he came into money, no matter how that may be, but it was even better when he got to spend time with you because of it.

He had a whole plan to take you to a traveling carnival that was passing through the Devildom and the two of you left almost immediately.

The carnival was a lot bigger than you were expecting, filled with rides, food stalls, thrill acts and so much more.

You had been enjoying your time with Mammon there and it was one of the rare times that you got to see him drop his act and just be himself around you without the worry of one of his brothers being around.

He was even holding your hand the entire time, a small blush coating his cheeks as he tried to play the action off like it was no big deal.

After going on one of the more thrilling rides, the two of you decided to take a break and you sat down on a nearby bench as you watched one of the acts that was performing.

Your head rested against Mammon’s shoulder and this thumb traced circles on the back of your hand.

Suddenly, a random demon appeared sitting right next to Mammon and looking at the two of you. 

You raised your head to pay attention, confused as to what he wanted and the demon leaned in closer, talking in a quiet voice. Mammon was about to tell him to get lost when the demon spoke. 

“You’re Mammon, the Avatar of Greed, right?” the demon asked with hope in his eyes.

You and Mammon shared a look, questioning how this demon knew Mammon and that was all the confirmation he needed.

“I knew it!” he said with a smile before adding, “Please, sir, follow me and I’ll lead you to the undercover casino.”

Mammon’s eyes widened at his words. “Undercover casino?” Mammon asked. He didn’t know there would be one at this carnival.

“Yes, you’re one of our best patrons. If you come with me, we can treat you to the full service,” the demon replied and you could practically see Mammon’s eyes light up with gold.

“Mammon, I don’t think we should-,” you tried to say but you were cut off by him jumping up, a large smile on his face.

“Lead the way!” Mammon said and the demon lit up as he began showing the two of you the way.

“Mammon, I think this is a bad idea,” you told him and he gave your hand a small squeeze.

“Don’t worry! We’ll only stay for a few minutes,” he replied, and you let out a small sigh. It was never a few minutes.

And you were right, just like you knew you would be. The two of you were there for at least an hour as Mammon’s train of thought was completely taken over by his greed.

“I’m sorry, sir, but if you want to keep playing, you’ll have to put up more money,” the dealer stated and Mammon searched his wallet for more. Empty. 

“Y/N, loan me some money, will ya’?” Mammon asked and you could feel yourself start to get annoyed. 

“Mammon, you already lost all of the money you earned from that job. Let’s just call it a night,” you tried to reason with him, but his lips turned into a frown.

“C’mon, don’t be such a killjoy. I’m gonna win big this time, I know it!” Mammon tried to convince you, but you were done with the casino.

“Mammon, we should go home,” you stated more firmly.

“I spent the whole night doin’ what you wanted, so the least you could do is spend some time doin’ what I want!” Mammon argued.

His words cut you, but you tried to gain control of the situation. “Mammon-,” you tried once again but he cut you off with a loud groan of frustration.

“If I wanted someone to ruin my fun then I would have taken Lucifer,” Mammon stated before muttering, “Jeez, I don’t even know why I took ya’ out in the first place.”

Your heart dropped at his words as you felt tears sting your eyes, but you wouldn’t let him see them fall. Fine.

You searched through your things to find your money and handed it to Mammon who had a large smile on his face at the sight of it. “Bet as much as you want. I’m going home,” you stated before walking away and back to the House of Lamentation.

Just as you knew, once again, Mammon lost all of the money you had given him and now he had nothing left.

He looked around the casino for you and when he couldn’t find you, he started calling you and texting you. Did you really leave?

As the money-hungry fog started to lift from his mind, Mammon was able to start thinking clearly and he realized just how badly he had messed up. 

He continued to try to call you as he made his way back to the House of Lamentation, but you refused to answer his calls.

When he got to the house, he immediately went to your room and knocked on your bedroom door, but he was met with more silence.

He tried to get you to open the door the entire night but when he realized you weren’t going to, he sulked back to his room. How was he supposed to fix this if you wouldn’t talk to him?

Your silent treatment continued for the next few days. You wouldn’t talk to him at RAD and you would lock him out of your room before he had a chance to talk to you back at the House of Lamentation.

Mammon was growing more and more depressed about it too. He wasn’t sleeping, he was barely eating, and he felt like there was nothing he could do about it.

You had purposefully been only leaving your room at times when you thought Mammon would be out of the house or asleep.

It was too painful to see after the things he said to you when you were just trying to keep him from getting further into debt.

It was a little after midnight when you decided to go to the kitchen to get some food. You managed to make it to the fridge with no problem, but right as you grabbed the item you wanted, Mammon suddenly entered.

The two of you looked at each other in shock, neither one of you expecting the other to be there.

You wanted nothing more than to go back to your room, but he was blocking the exit.

“Uh…hi,” Mammon said, looking down at the ground. He was nervous and under any other circumstance, you would feel a little bad for him.

He didn’t say anything else, so you decided to try to push past him to get back to your room.

But as you passed him, Mammon gently grabbed your arm. “Wait,” he said, finally bringing himself to look at you and you paused to listen to what he had to say.

He was bad at speeches so he said the first thing that came to his mind. “I miss ya’.”

And his puppy dog eyes and those words that sounded so sad were enough to almost make you cave. Almost.

Mammon could tell it wasn’t enough so he continued to say, “I’m sorry about what I said. You’re the only one I want to go out with and I don’t know why ya’ even agreed to go out with me,” he told you honestly and you could see the heartbreak in his eyes, shattering the walls that you had put up.

You gently reached up and cupped his cheek with one of your hands and he immediately leaned into your touch. 

You pulled away after a moment and began walking to your room, leaving a very confused Mammon standing there.

You turned back to face him when you realized he wasn’t following you and you motioned towards your room before asking, “Are you coming?”

He got a big smile at your words and he nodded his head, letting you lead him to your room.

As soon as you shut the door, Mammon engulfed you in his arms, pulling you onto the bed and refusing to let go.

You let yourself melt in his embrace before telling him, “No more gambling on dates.”

He gently pressed his lips to yours before replying, “Promise.”

There were a few things that Levi was uptight about and those things usually had something to do with either his anime, manga, or videogames.

Other than those things, Levi was usually pretty nonchalant. He didn’t care what others did or didn’t do and he didn’t complain if they didn’t spend time with him.

He just usually did his own thing and you admired him for that.

It didn’t take long for you and Levi to start hanging out, common interests bringing the two of you together.

And Levi soon found that he was going against all of his beliefs as a shut-in. He was starting to actually care about what others did. Well, about what one person did in particular.

Things that Levi used to love to do by himself didn’t seem as fun when you weren’t around, so he tried to invite you over as much as he possibly could.

You didn’t mind at all because Levi usually invited you to do something you liked doing anyway.

Levi never had someone that liked the same things he liked as much as you did, which is probably what added to his infatuation of spending time with you.

And it was like a secret that only the two of you shared, or a language that only the two of you knew how to speak.

Or, that’s how Levi thought of it until he caught you and Solomon talking at RAD.

You had mentioned one of your and Levi’s favorite games to Solomon and he had, surprisingly, known about it.

So the two of you started talking about all your favorite characters and mechanics of the game. 

In your defense, it was a completely innocent conversation between friends, but Levi didn’t see it that way.

What he saw is the way you smiled at Solomon as he spoke, in a way that Levi only wanted you to look at him.

And what he heard was the way you sweetly laughed at Solomon’s jokes, with a laugh that was supposed to be reserved for his ears.

And then, you invited Solomon to come over to the House of Lamentation and play the game with you and Levi.

His sin had taken over him faster than he could process what was happening and he stood in between you and Solomon in his demon form, a very unhappy look on his place.

“Levi? Are you okay?” you asked him, worried when you saw the form he was in.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked you, sending a glance to Solomon.

“We were just talking,” you replied, confused as to what he was getting at.

“You invited him to play our game!” Levi snapped back and you and Solomon shared a look as you realized why he might be upset.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think it would be a big deal,” you replied honestly. Solomon and Levi were friends and Solomon had come over lots of time to play games with Levi, so why should this time be any different?

But your words seemed to only set Levi off more as his insecurities got the better of him.

“Well, it might not seem like a big deal to you but it’s a big deal to me,” he replied and you could hear the hurt in his voice. The conversation was spiraling and you didn’t know how to stop it.

“Levi, I didn’t mean anything by that,” you tried to reason but he was too far in his head down.

“This is what I get I guess,” he stated and you looked at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you questioned. 

“It means I never should have tried to be friends with some lame normie who doesn’t care about anyone but themselves,” Levi snapped back and this time it was your turn to be hurt.

“Let’s all calm down,” Solomon interjected, trying to de-escalate the situation and Levi’s demon form caught the attention of Lucifer. Levi knew furthering the fight would only get him involved, so he backed down.

“Whatever,” Levi muttered before walking away and Solomon turned to you. 

“Are you okay?” Solomon asked you and you replied with a short, “I’m fine.”

You went back to the House of Lamentation with the full intention of avoiding Levi and giving him the silent treatment, which was all too easy to do because he didn’t leave his room after the fight.

You were both getting more and more miserable as you spent time apart, but Levi was upset because he thought you liked Solomon and you were upset because of what he said to you so neither of you were ready to apologize.

After about a week of the two of you not speaking, it was starting to affect everyone else as well.

Solomon decided to do something about it since he was technically involved.

He came to Levi’s room, fully expecting Levi to not answer the door; but, he had.

Truth be told, Levi had only opened it in the hopes that you would be on the other side but he was largely disappointed when he saw Solomon standing there.

“What are you doing here?” Levi asked and Solomon gave him an innocent smile.

“I was hoping to talk to you for a moment,” Solomon replied. 

“About what?” Levi asked and Solomon’s expression turned to a serious one.

“About Y/N,” he replied and at the mention of your name, a blush rose to Levi’s cheeks.

“I don’t want to talk about them,” Levi replied, attempting to shut the door to his room but Solomon stopped him.

“Please, just listen,” Solomon said and Levi, having no choice, let him continue.

“The only reason that Y/N and I were talking about the game was because they were telling me how much they’ve been enjoying playing it with you,” Solomon told Levi. 

“So?” Levi asked and Solomon wanted to roll his eyes at the oblivious demon.

“They were telling me about how much they’ve been enjoying spending time with you,” Solomon tried to further clarify.

Something clicked in Levi’s mind this time and his cheeks burned a furious red as he understood what Solomon was trying to say. 

He quickly slammed the door on Solomon’s face to process the new information on his own and then he felt like a total idiot for snapping at you.

It only took him a few more minutes to show up at your door, nervously knocking on it. 

You opened it a few moments later and Levi saw his own miserableness reflected on you. 

“I…I know I messed everything up a-and you’ll probably never forgive me. But, I wanted to say I’m sorry and ask if you wanted to play some games,” Levi said practically in one breath before he could chicken out of it. 

He held your favorite game in his hands along with some snacks, hoping that you would let him in.

“Why would you want to spend time with a lame normie like me?” you asked and Levi winced at your words. He deserved that.

He let out a defeated sigh, casting his gaze down at the floor before telling you, “Because I don’t think you're lame. You’re the most amazing person I know. But, if you don’t want to play that’s fine, I’ll just leave you alone.”

His dejected look pulled at your heartstrings and you couldn’t help but stop him by gently grabbing his arms.

He looked back at you with hopeful eyes and you told him, “Maybe we can play for a little bit.”

Levi immediately rushed into your room, a bright smile on his face that was contagious as he set everything up.

This was only the beginning of his apology and he was going to make sure he made up for what he said.

And maybe, just maybe, along with an apology he could also confess his feelings for you.

Out of all the demon brothers, Satan was the best at holding a grudge.

After all, he had been holding once against Lucifer for his entire life. 

Satan was a classy demon but he was equally stubborn and if he didn’t want to back down from a fight, there was no making him do so.

So, when the two of you got into a fight, you knew that it was going to be one with lasting consequences.

Satan had invited you on a day trip that involved a long train ride both to and from the destination. 

He didn’t want you to be bored so he offered to lend you one of his books.

Everything was going so perfectly and it was a very romantic outing filled with sweet nothings and intimate moments.

But, then the time to go back home came and that’s when it all started falling apart.

You were frantically trying to search your bag for the book that Satan had lent you while you waited for the train to arrive, but you couldn’t find it anywhere.

 Satan noticed your frantic movements beside him and he raised an eyebrow as he looked at you. 

“What are you looking for?” he asked you as you continued to search.

“Your book,” you replied, and the content expression that was on his face moments before dropped as he felt a flicker of anger inside of him.

“The book I let you borrow?” Satan asked as you closed your bag with a frustrated sigh.

“Yes. I’m sorry, Satan, I must have left it on the train when we got off it,” you told him, a contrite expression on your face. You felt awful.

“How could you be so careless?” Satan asked and you were taken aback by his words.

“I didn’t mean to,” you argued but Satan’s wrath was only growing further and once he went down this road, it was almost impossible to stop.

“That was one of my favorite books! I only let you borrow it as a gesture of kindness,” he stated.

“Satan, I told you I was sorry. I’ll buy you another copy when we get back,” you responded.

“It won’t be the same,” he snapped back, refusing to look at you now.

“I think you’re overreacting,” you replied and you knew those words were a mistake because if he wasn’t angry before, that definitely set him off.

The two of you engaged in a very heated exchange as others looked on and the only thing that stopped you was the arrival of the train.

You and Satan refused to talk to each other the whole way back and you sat in anger and embarrassment for causing such a big scene.

You immediately went to your separate rooms as soon as you got back to the House of Lamentation and you were left to wonder how such a simple thing could ruin not only the way back but the entire trip when the two of you had been so happy together moments before that.

Satan could admit to himself that he may have overreacted a bit, but admitting it to you was a completely different story. And, you believed that you already apologized so what else was there to say?

Which left the two of you at an impasse. You wouldn’t speak to each other or even look at each other despite the ache you had for each other.

The others had heard about what happened and tried to get the two of you to talk. After all, they all agreed that you were fighting over something trivial, but neither you nor Satan gave in.

It wasn’t until the two of you got stuck in a situation a couple of weeks later that he realized how stupid the argument was.

Satan was reading in the library at the House of Lamentation and you walked in to grab your own book, not expecting him to be there.

As soon as you saw him, you averted your gaze, focusing on finding the book you were looking for.

Satan kept occasionally glancing at you while you searched, but he didn’t say anything.

Finally, you found the book you were looking for, but it was in a stack of books on top of one of the bookshelves.

You were struggling to reach it and could use some help. Specifically from a demon who was already there.

Satan kept his eyes on his book, a smug smile threatening to form as he knew you needed help and would have to talk to him to ask him for it.

But, you refused to give him the satisfaction, so you tried to grasp it yourself, causing them all to tumble.

You let out a gasp of pain as they fell on top of you, one of the larger ones hitting you in the head and knocking you out.

Satan was on his feet the instant he saw what happened and he quickly approached you with worry in his eyes.

You had a small cut on your forehead that was bleeding and when he saw that you were knocked out, the guilt instantly flooded him. He should’ve just helped you.

He carried you to his bedroom and treated the small cut on your forehead before sitting next to you, watching you sleep.

He wouldn’t be able to rest until he knew for a fact that you were okay.

A little while later, you began to stir and when you fluttered your eyes open, you were met with concerned, green ones.

“How are you feeling?” he asked you immediately and you slowly began to remember what happened. 

“My head hurts,” you admitted and he nodded his head, handing you some pain medicine.

You took it gratefully and as it fell silent, you realized Satan had just talked to you.

Your eyes widened as you turned to look at him again. He must have known what you were thinking because he let out a small sigh before climbing into the bed with you and pulling you into him.

You moved your head back just a bit so that you could look at him.

“I’m sorry for overreacting and for calling you careless,” he told you as he lovingly looked into your eyes, gently brushing some of your hair out of your face before leaving his fingers tangled in it.

“I’m sorry for losing your book,” you replied, savoring every moment of the touch you had craved.

“I can always get another copy,” he reassured you, gently pressing a kiss to your forehead before telling you, “You’re what I’m afraid of losing more than anything. I can’t ever get another copy of you and I wouldn’t want it.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his lips before replying, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Satan smiled at you before pulling you onto his chest so that he could hold you.  

Asmo was quick and witty when he wanted to be.

His greatest fighting tactic was his words and everyone knew that.

He could be mean to those who deserved it - but you would never deserve it.

You would never be on the opposite end of Asmo’s repartee because he simply loved you too much.

So, when Asmo said something to you that had crossed the line, he didn’t even realize it until after he said the words.

You had been having a particularly rough day and you sought Asmo out for some comfort.

He immediately suggested that the two of you have a spa day. It was the perfect way to relax!

Of course, Asmo was already fully prepared for a last-minute spa day.

He told you to just sit back and relax while he got everything ready. He knew that you would need extra pampering that day so he wanted to give you the full treatment.

And Asmo was the best at pampering you - but because of the rough day you had, you were on edge.

While doing different things, Asmo would make small comments about how you could improve certain aspects of your hair and skin routine.

Things like - your hair feels a little dry, you should try using a better conditioner. Or, your skin’s starting to look wrinkly, you need to start a better skincare routine.

To him, these comments were all coming from a place of love. He was just trying to give you advice since he had tried almost every beauty product known to the world.

But with you already being frustrated, the comments started to sound more like nagging; and, they began making you feel a bit self-conscious.

Wanting to avoid an argument, you suggested stopping the spa for now, but when Asmo kept pressing you for the reason, you snapped slightly. 

The small argument quickly blew up into a bigger one and Asmo resorted to using his quick wit as a defense mechanism.

By the end of it, you had both said things you didn’t mean and you had left his room quickly, seeking solidarity in your own.

Asmo was the biggest attention seeker in the entire house, so he doesn’t take being ignored or avoided by anyone very well.

But he especially doesn’t take it well when it’s coming from you - the person he loves the most.

The day after the two of you fought, he expected you to be mad, but he had already prepared an apology for that.

The thing about Asmo is that he’s not afraid to apologize for something he did if he feels like he was in the wrong, unlike some of the other brothers.

Besides, the sooner he apologized, the sooner the two of you could make up. And that was his favorite part of any argument.

But, with you not speaking to him and avoiding him at all costs, how was he supposed to apologize?

Asmo only lasted one day of you ignoring him before he was at your door, tears in his eyes begging you to talk to him.

He was very dramatic with his begging, but with how dramatic Asmo usually was, it was par for the course.

If you let him in, he’ll immediately hug you, his arms wrapping around you tightly while he rests his head in the crook of your neck, crying as he apologizes as many times as it takes for you to forgive him.

He didn’t mean to say those things - he would never hurt you on purpose. It was just in the heat of the moment. He’s a very passionate guy after all.

Those are things he’ll tell you, his lips brushing against your skin as he says it, his hands sliding down just a little past what would be considered proper.

All things he knew would chip away at your walls.

He knew everything about you, especially when it came to things you liked. Things that made you cave no matter the situation.

Your resolve was shaky now and Asmo knew it, gently placing kisses on your neck and you subconsciously leaned into his touch, ever so slightly exposing more of your skin to him.

“Asmo,” you warned as he continued his kisses. You wanted to be mad at him, and you wanted to sound mad. But, your walls were crumbling under his touch and when his name left your lips, it was filled with love instead of anger.

A hint of a smile formed on his lips as he heard his name and he looked into your eyes, his eyes drawing you in even more.

“You’ll forgive me, won’t you Y/N?” he asked innocently - far too innocently for the thoughts currently running through his mind.

His lips were inches from yours and you let out a small sigh before closing the gap between the two of you, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to resist him. 

You supposed you could let him off with a warning this time. After all, you were the one who snapped first.

Asmo wouldn’t hold it against you though. All that mattered was that the two of you made up.

Beel was absolutely panicking when he realized that you weren’t speaking to him and were avoiding him at all costs.

Mostly because he had no idea what he had done wrong and since you weren’t talking to him, he couldn’t even ask you.

It must have been something bad given the silent treatment. But, he couldn’t even think of something small he might have done - let alone something big enough for you to give him the silent treatment.

He thought about the last time the two of you interacted.

You were in his room with him, and he had pulled you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you.

Your head was pressed against his chest as he held you close, a peaceful smile resting on his face.

He felt content and slowly but surely drifted off. 

The next thing he knew, you had moved off him in a rush, exiting his bedroom before he could get a word out and you had been avoiding him ever since.

But, you had a very different recollection of what had happened.

You were cuddling against Beel as previously stated, and you were feeling content as well. Everything just felt right when you were in his arms.

But, only a few minutes into cuddling Beel told you, “I don’t know why we’re still doing this.”

Your eyes immediately snapped open as you tried to process what Beel had just said.

“What?” you asked softly.

His hand was tangled in your hair, holding your head in place, so you couldn’t look up at him to see if he was being serious or not.

“I think this pointless,” he murmured again and your heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t really mean that, right?

“Beel,” you tried to say, but you were cut off by him continuing to speak.

“I think you should go,” he added and you decided to listen to him, pushing yourself off of him and going to your room, locking the door.

You hated that he could hold you so lovingly while he simultaneously broke up with you.

Seeing him was painful so you avoided him at all costs and you didn’t want to hear any excuse he might have so you refused to speak to him.

Beel had been doing everything he could to get your attention, but he failed at every attempt.

The lack of your presence had taken a toll on him. He had been feeling sad and lonely and he missed you more than anything.

Not to mention, he had seen you looking upset and he wanted to know what happened. He wanted to know why you were sad because he hated seeing it.

He would do anything to make you happy, he just wished you would let him help. Whatever it was - he could fix it.

He only lasted a couple of weeks without you before he decided he had to do something.

So one day when you had just gotten home from RAD, he picked you up and carried you to his room, shutting the door and blocking it with his body, despite your many protests.

He knew that his strength overpowered yours so you wouldn’t be able to push past him.

You could use the pact against him to get him to move, but he was hoping you wouldn’t resort to that - he just wanted to talk.

When you realized that Beel had you trapped you let out a sigh, sitting down on his bed. You couldn’t avoid him forever.

“What do you want, Beel?” you asked him, looking anywhere but him. And the way you said his name angrily instead of the affectionate way you used to say it hurt.

But just hearing your voice, even if you sounded mad, was like a breath of fresh air.

He moved closer to you, his big puppy dog eyes, staring at you with so much love as he tried to figure out what to say.

“You seem sad,” he told you, carefully sitting down on the bed next to you and you let out a scoff.

“Of course I’m sad,” you replied and he furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at you.

“Why?” he asked innocently and you looked at him incredulously.

When he saw the look you were giving him, he asked, “Did I do something? Is that why you won’t talk to me?”

And now your eyebrows furrowed in confusion because he wasn’t making any sense.

“You broke up with me,” you stated simply and his eyes widened as he stared at you in disbelief. He would never.

Seeing the look of confusion on his face, you decided to recount the details of that day, telling him everything he said to you.

And his expression went from one of confusion to understanding as he realized what had happened.

Beel had a dream after he fell asleep cuddling you. The usual suspect - Mammon - was trying to get Beel to do something he didn’t want to do. He remembered saying all of those things to his brother in his dream - but he didn’t have any recollection of saying them out loud.

“What?” you asked as he finished talking. He was asleep?! 

A small blush coated your cheeks as you realized that you never looked at him. He kept you in place at first and then you were so upset that you walked out without sparing another glance towards him.

Beel pulled you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you the same way he did that day, holding you close to him.

“I love you so much. I would never break up with you,” he told you quietly, hoping that you would accept what he was saying as the truth.

You immediately melted into his touch as you realized it was all a big misunderstanding and your skin felt hot wherever his met yours.

Beel let out a deep breath of relief when you began to relax and he was determined to never let you go again.

The last couple of weeks had been hard on both of you and if nothing else, it was only proof as to how much you loved each other.

He just hoped that his dreams never interfered with your relationship again.

Like Satan, Belphie is one of the most stubborn when it comes to apologizing or admitting he was wrong about something.

He handles issues with the silent treatment in the hopes that they’ll either resolve themselves or simply go away.

He’s never been one for taking the initiative and he’s even less motivated to do so when it comes to an argument.

The two of you had been bickering more than usual thanks to the eldest brother.

Belphie had been slacking off a little too much at RAD in favor of napping and it was starting to affect Lucifer.

He had tried to ask Beel to help his twin brother keep up with his studies, but there was only so much that he could do.

If Belphie didn’t want to do something, then, simply put, he wasn’t going to do it - no matter who Lucifer sicced on him.

But, still, Lucifer asked you to try since you had a bond that was both very different yet equally as important as Beel’s bond to Belphie.

You didn’t want to do it - plain and simple. You knew that it would put you in a hard place with Belphie.

But, as the human exchange student, you couldn’t help but feel like part of your responsibility was to help the demon brothers.

And whether Belphie believed it or not, you were just trying to help him. You knew that if he didn’t get caught up with his studies, the punishment from Lucifer would be much worse than your nagging.

But, after a few days' worth of you waking Belphie up to beg him to do his homework, both of you were getting fed up with it.

Belphie kept complaining about how you sounded like Lucifer and you kept telling him he was acting like a brat.

It didn’t get much further than that though until one night when Belphie decided to be particularly stubborn.

You came into his room just like you had been doing, but it didn’t matter what you did, Belphie refused to get up.

You tried to reason with him, you tried to remind him of what Lucifer would do if he didn’t get up, you even tried to bribe him, but nothing worked.

You sat next to the bed for a while as you tried to figure out your last step, and then an idea popped into your head.

You hated it because you knew that Belphie would hate it, but he left you no choice.

After preparing yourself and running through your plan multiple times, you got up and looked at Belphie who was sleeping peacefully.

You let out a small sigh before leaning closer and grabbing his favorite pillow that he was lying on as well as his favorite blanket.

In an instant, you had snatched them and ran off with them, seeking refuge in your room.

You had barely gotten your door locked when you heard Belphie trying to get into your room.

“Y/N, open the door,” Belphie said, as calmly as he could, but he was already mad.

“You need to do your homework, Belphie,” you replied.

“Just give me my blanket and pillow back,” he responded.

“After you finish your homework,” you reiterated, internally sighing at the situation. You didn’t want to act like his parent and you silently cursed Lucifer for asking you to do this in the first place.

“Ugh, you’re being so annoying!” Belphie snapped, but you were expecting some backlash about this situation.

“You’ll be thanking me later when you don’t have to deal with Lucifer,” you stated and you heard him let out another frustrated sigh.

“This is exactly why I hate humans,” Belphie stated, more to himself than anything, but you heard it loud and clear.

His eyes widened slightly when you opened the door to your bedroom, a look of hurt on your face.

He opened his mouth to take it back but he was cut off by you roughly shoving the blanket and pillow into him before slamming the door in his face and locking it again.

Belphie knew that he went too far so he decided to give you some time to cool off.

The next time he saw you he promised himself he would make it up to you.

But when he saw you next, you refused to look at Belphie, let alone talk to him. And that made Belpie annoyed all over again.

“You’re being childish,” he told you, only furthering your anger towards him.

“Says the one who can’t even be responsible and do their homework without someone breathing down their neck!” you snapped back.

The two of you didn’t talk after that for a long time - too long in the brothers’ opinions.

They knew that you and Belphie were too stubborn to talk to each other on your accord, so they decided to take things into their own hands.

You were sitting on your bed reading when suddenly the door to your bedroom burst open.

You looked up to see Belphie being shoved inside against his will by Beel before he shut the door, making sure to stand guard so Belphie couldn’t leave.

Belphie had a small pout on his face that, despite still being mad at him, you thought looked adorable.

He let out a small sigh, avoiding all eye contact as he did his best to come up with a way to get out of this situation.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, but you both knew it was pointless. Neither of you were leaving until you talked to each other.

Belphie was the master at winning arguments, but just this once, he asked himself what the point of it was. He cared about you way more than winning the argument.

“You know I don’t hate you,” he said quietly, still keeping his eyes anywhere but on you as he spoke.

Your eyes immediately went to him. Was that his version of an apology?

“I was only trying to help you, Belphie,” you explained and he gave you a defeated look.

“I know,” he replied. That’s why this whole argument is pointless.

Belphie moved over to your bed now and sat down next to you, the two of you making eye contact for the first time in what felt like forever.

“I caught up on all my studies,” he added and you let out a breath of relief. At least you wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore.

You were the first to reach out, gently taking his hand in yours. You stared at your intertwined fingers before softly saying, “I missed you.”

His eyes widened slightly as he took in the sight of you, all feelings of the fight disappearing. He was just happy to be in your presence again.

Belphie moved quickly, wrapping you up in his arms and pulling you down into the bed.

“Bel-!” you shouted in surprise but you were cut off by him placing a finger to your lips.

You were laying chest to chest, his face only inches from yours, his arms keeping you there.

“If they hear us talking, they’ll come in; and, I’d rather not be interrupted for a while,” Belphie told you with a sly smirk before placing his lips on yours.

You immediately returned the kiss, a smile forming at the feeling.

No matter what you or Belphie said in the heat of the moment, you knew that your love for each other would never change.

[infevious]

I NEED a part 2 of that Latino kinich pls pls make it fluffy 😭🙏🏻🙏🏻

APOLOGIES

a/n: pt 2 of this !! probs ooc 😓 im also surprise surprise high as balls again so im probably thinking im writing shit shakespeare himself couldn’t but it’s actually ass. i also have a test tomorrow and need to sleep early today so pls dont hate me for not writing an actual ending i’ll finish tomorrow maybe 😭😭😭

…………………………………………….

The final straw for the hunter was when he saw you and Yaotyl playing around, he hated how the man was touching you, he had tried convincing himself he wasn’t jealous but he knew he was lying to himself. His saurian companion only added salt to the wound.

“Would you look at that! She’s enjoying her time with someone else while you’re over here looking like a kicked puppy- you ever seen her smile that big? Maybe you should just jump off the nearest cliff to end this horrible feeling!”

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.

.

You were walking home after a long day of commissions, the sun was setting and all you wanted to do was rot in bed the rest of the evening. You heard some footsteps behind you but thought nothing of it, multiple people use this path it’s nothing, you kept walking until you felt someone grab your hand and turn you towards them.

It was Kinich. He let go of your hand and gripped your arm, pulling you close to his chest, a little too close, and you could tell he was annoyed.

“Why have you been ignoring me?”

You blinked. Didn’t he tell you you were being annoying? You blinked again.

“I’m not ignoring you..”

“Bullshit” His grip on your arm tightened. “You haven’t talked to me in weeks.”

“I’ve just been..busy..?”

Wow. Best liar in all of Teyvat he’s surly going to be convinced.

“Uh huh? Busy with what? Busy with everyone in Natlan that you can’t even spare me a glance?”

“Why do you care? I thought you said I was annoying?”

He bit his lip and looked down for a moment before looking back at you.

“I did…but you’re my f-” He sighed, mentally cursing at himself for caring so much. He didn’t really mind you ignoring him for the first couple of days, but when he saw you were with another man he realized how bad he regretted it, he realized his feelings for you.

“You’re my friend. I just needed some time alone.”

You felt your throat start to burn a bit. Friend. You should have known, you never had a chance with him. You swallowed the feeling back and looked down.

“Okay”

Okay? That’s it? You’ve ignored him for almost a month and the only thing you can say is okay?

He gripped your arm tighter and pulled you closer.

“Is that all you’re going to say? Okay?”

“Well what do you want me to say!?”

That came out a little louder than expected but whatever..all you wanted right now was to rush home and lock yourself in your room.

“Anything other than okay!”

“I’m sorry for listening to you and giving you the space you wanted!”

He scoffed and let you go, crossing his arms and looking away. He knew he should just apologize to you so you two could go back to before and get past this.

“..I’m sorry”

Your eyes widened. You didn’t really expect that.

“What?”

“I said i’m sorry alright?”

.

.

.

.

After a while, it was actually a day and a half, you two were finally back to normal, you just tried to tone it down a bit. He noticed that, but he also noticed how your hand stopped brushing against his when you would walk together, how you seemed slightly less cheery when talking to him, how you stopped looking at him with a small little smile when he would talk.

He was walking back to a customer after finishing a commission when he heard your voice.

“-I don’t know how long I can take it anymore..! I can’t get rid of my stupid feelings! How do I make them go away!?”

He saw you shake Mualani as you looked like you were about to burst out into tears. Feelings? What feelings? Who were you talking about? His eyebrows furrowed as he continued to listen to what you were talking about.

“Uh- how are you sure he doesn’t like you back?”

“He was annoyed at me for spending time with him! He called me a friend..!”

Wait. Was it him you were talking about? He almost started praying to the archons then and there that it was him, he was ready to pay what ever price if you could return his feelings. He was snapped back into his thoughts as he heard Mualani confirm.

“Kinich is a weird guy, who knows?”

“Lani don’t get my hopes up..”

She gave you a small smile and then noticed Kinich standing a few feet behind you. She saw how his cheeks were slightly blushed and raised her eyebrow. He realized that she saw him and quickly left to find the customer.

Interesting.

…………………………………………….

[rebelssvy]

hello i love your kirishima stuff so much can i request kirishima x super independent reader?

YESS YESS YES im actually super independent irl so this is gonna be goood

independent ✧.*

kirishima x independent reader ⋆·˚ ༘ *

summary: kissing, making out, fluff and smut at the end.

doing this in three parts!! the first is kinda sad ish. second is cute, the last is smut.

༊*·˚

kirishima had a hard time sometimes. he was always pretty clingy. so when you would do you own thing without him he always got a little upset.

waking up in the morning to cook you breakfast just to realize you had gone to the gym. it left him with a frown on his face until you came back to his arms.

it took him a while to realize that you didn’t hate him at all, you just didn’t need his help or his company sometimes . you weren’t purposely ignoring him, you had just been ‘doing your own thing’.

it wasn’t until some nights ago that you two had been laying in bed talking and he expressed how he felt. wrapped up in his bigs arms, you could feel his chest vibrate at his words.

“babe it’s just-… i don’t know…. i love you. all i feel is love for you and sometimes i feel like you don’t want to be around me.” he confessed. you didn’t need to look at his face to see his expression. you knew his eyebrows furrowed and he was wearing a frown on his face.

“i didn’t realize. i- i. im sorry.” you felt bad but you didn’t know what to say. instead you looked up at him. his eyes didn’t meet yours, only watered eyes and a sad expression.

“oh honey.. im so so sorry.” you said while crawling up to him, holding his face.

“i just love you so much!” he sobbed grabbing you into a hug. since that moment on you silently vowed to make him feel loved and appreciated by you.

…

you and kiri had been at a club together. going with some friends. he only ever drank a little when you two went out. today you were a couple shots in, and your boyfriend was looking better than ever.

you had wandered off to the dance floor a while back with mina. swaying your hips to the music. you felt amazing. eyes were on you. departing youself to go to the bathroom you bumped into a firm man.

you didn’t know him but with the eyes he was giving you it instantly gave you the creeps. “excuse me sorry.” you said trying to move past him.

his feet met yours with quick pace, not letting you past. the action sent shivers down your spine.

“where do u think your going pretty” he said motioning his eyes all over your body. feeling absolutely gross you gave him a dirty look.

“sorry i have a boy friend.” and you tried to make your way past him again. but his hands going your body this time. one on your shoulder and the other at your waist.

“get the fuck off of me you asshole!” you pushed him backwards, now more eyes were on the two of you. your face felt flush but the lingering fight or flight was prominent.

“cmon babe i was just helping ya out..” he said while creeping his way back to you. his snicker on his face was disgusting it made you feel less than. “oh is that the boyfriend you were talking about hah” he laughed and you turned around to face kirishima. who looked more angry than you thought he would be.

“is he bothering you babe?” he asked while stepping closer to you.

“yes but i can handle it it’s fine.” you said while turning back to the imposter.

“oh you can handle me anytime sweet thing.” the suspicious man said stepping forward, closer to you then you would ever want him to be.

“fuck you.” you said before taking a knee to his private place. the man lunched forward in pain as he screamed out.

“fuck babe. remind me when i need a body guard i’ll just call u” your boyfriend laughed. kirishima new you could handle your own problems but damn, that shit was hot.

….

nsfw below

“i love you so much i can’t even explain it.” kirishima growled while pushing his big hard digits in and out of you. you moaned at the sensation. you had just got back from the club and kiri had been acting all riled up since the incident.

you couldn’t get him off you. and as soon as you got home he had picked you up and thrown you on the bed.

“fuck you were so hot today.” he moaned while watching his fingers fuck you. wet noises filled the room.

“u think me kic-king so-ah! mee guy in the balls is- is hot..?” you stuttered out, hard tot say anything with him working his fingers in and out of you like this.

“yes.” he answered without hesitation. “it’s was so hot.” he smiled while he closed in on your wet pussy. kissing it with passion he sucked on your clit.

“are you gonna cum baby?” he asked, coy with a smirk on his face.

“…noo..” you moaned out, weak. it was a lie, you were closer then you thought and he knew. he knew your body in and out weather you liked it or not.

“oh yea…?” he toyed. pushing his fingers in and out of your with much faster pace. you shook at his motion.

“oh god! kirishima!” lurching forward he pushed your legs further. while you came he spat on your pretty pussy and resumed his actions on your clit. sucking it through your orgasm.

your never going to need to change for him. that’s forsure.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

it was hard to get super creative with this one. if you want somthing else feel free to put in a similar ask i’ll totally re write or at least try

i’ll add the twt link i used for inspo at the end if you guys want it. lmk!!

[allthingsfangirl101]

Not The Abandoning Type – Tyler Owens

I jumped awake, my entire body shaking as I tried to snap out of my nightmare. I quickly turned on the light on my bedside table. I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. I kept repeating my mantra to try and snap out of it.

"It was weeks ago. It was weeks ago. It was weeks ago."

Suddenly, my best friend popped into my mind. Tyler Owens has been interested in tornados for as long as I've known him. While I studied human anatomy, he studied weather. We bonded over a science project in 8th grade. That year, we won the science fair and found comfort in nerding out with each other.

The only time Tyler and I were ever separated was when I went to MIT for neuroscience and behavior. After college, I came home and started working in a research lab. As soon as I came back, Tyler called me and we instantly went back to being best friends. That is, until a month ago.

A month ago, I was working in my lab when a tornado hit. My lab was completely destroyed. I spent five hours hiding in the storm cellar. The tornado was only about fifteen minutes but it took over four hours for them to clear the area and find survivors. When they pulled me out of the storm cellar, the street was gone. The only thing you could see was debris. And the bodies of people who weren't so lucky.

I moved back in with my parents due to my townhome being hit in the storm, too. Ever since I moved back in, I haven't gone anywhere. I stay at home all day and sort through my files that weren't destroyed in the storm. My phone rings a couple of times a day, but I ignore it.

I was watching TV while my Mom was at the store. I quickly changed the channel when it started showing debris from a nearby town. I didn't relax until I found a channel playing a small TV movie. My phone was ringing upstairs, but I didn't bother to go get it. Both my parents knew that if they needed to get a hold of me, I would only answer the house phone.

Someone knocked on the door so I slowly got up to answer it. When I opened the door, the smile of my childhood best friend greeted me.

"Hiya, darling."

"Hi, Tyler," I said softly. "What are you doing here?"

"Well," he said, slightly clearing his throat, "you haven't been answering your phone. I've tried calling you every day for the past month."

"Sorry," I shrugged, turning my attention to his red truck in the street. My anxiety spiked when I saw the rain clouds rolling in. "I've been a little. . . distracted."

"I understand that," he tried to laugh. "Want to go get something to eat?"

"No thanks," I shook my head, wrapping my arms around myself.

"Have you left your parents' house at all since the storm?" He asked. I looked at him, instantly seeing the worry in his eyes.

"I don't have anywhere to go," I shrugged. "My lab was destroyed. So was my apartment."

"Y/N. . ." He started to say but didn't finish his thought. Instead, he smiled like he had an idea. "What if we did one of our all-night movie nights? We could order pizza and fall asleep while watching as many movies as we can."

"Sure," I mumbled. Without saying anything else, I turned around and headed to the kitchen. Tyler sighed before following me, closing the front door behind him.

I started making popcorn as he walked in. He leaned against the counter and I could feel that he wanted to talk. I grabbed the popcorn out of the microwave when it was ready and poured it into a bowl. He didn't say anything as I headed upstairs. I walked into my room with him at my heels.

"Y/N. . ." He started to say again. This time, he was cut off by a large crash of lightning.

I jumped, covering my mouth when there was a flash of lightning outside. In an instant, Tyler was at my side. He gently grabbed my shaking hands, pulling them away from my mouth. He then pulled me into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around me. I let out an involuntary shriek when thunder echoed throughout the room.

"It's okay," Tyler whispered. "It's just a little rainstorm. Nothing else." He paused before adding, "Tell me about the tornado."

"I don't want to talk about it," I said, pulling myself out of our embrace.

"Y/N, maybe we should. . ." He started to say.

"I said I don't want to!" I snapped at him. "I constantly replay it in my mind, Tyler. I don't want to talk about it."

"Talking about it can help."

"How?" I scoffed. "Talking about it is not going to make the memories go away. It's not going to suddenly make everything better."

"It can help you work through it."

"How would you know? You willingly run into storms, Tyler. Not all of us are brave. Not all of us are fearless. Some of us belong in labs, not chasing damn tornados."

"Y/N. . ." He stuttered.

"You should go," I cut him off.

"But. . ."

"Please," I said, my voice breaking. "Just go."

I turned away from him, wrapping my arms tightly around myself, now facing my window. I could see Tyler debating in the mirror on my vanity. He studied me, maybe waiting for me to turn around. My heart sank into my stomach when he let out a disappointed sigh.

I looked at the ground, tears threatening to stream down my face as I heard Tyler's retreating footsteps. When I heard the front door open and close, I instantly lifted my head and searched for him. My heart jumped when I saw him walking down our front path.

I watched from my bedroom window as Tyler slightly hesitated at the end of our walkway. My breath got caught in my throat when he looked up and over his shoulder. He sighed before walking the rest of the way to his car. He threw his bag in the backseat from the front before climbing in.

I was just about to turn away from the window but stopped when I noticed Tyler not closing his truck door. My heart rate sped up when Tyler jumped out of his truck and jogged back inside. I turned toward my bedroom door when I heard the front door swing open and shut.

My breathing got quicker as I heard his footsteps pounding up the stairs. I let out a small gasp when my bedroom door was roughly pushed open.

"I ain't doing this, darling," he said, out of breath.

"Doing what?" I stuttered. He smirked as he took a few steps into my room.

"I'm not leaving you," he clarified. "I'm not the abandoning type."

My breathing sped up as he closed the gap between us. When he was directly in front of me, he gently grabbed my hands and pulled me closer.

"You need to talk about this, Y/N," he whispered. "What you went through, was not little. It was scary and you've been keeping all of it inside. You need to let it out. Please, Y/N, let it out. That's the only way you are going to get past all of this.

"And who better to talk to than the guy who chases tornados for a living?" I teased him.

"That," he smirked. He paused before adding, "And the guy who loves you with all his heart."

I studied the expression on his face to see if he was doing his usual teasing, but all I could see was love.

"Any girl would trust the guy she loved."

Tyler let go of my hands and gently grabbed my face. I held my breath as he leaned in and gently pressed his lips to mine. We soon relaxed against each other. Tyler kept his hands on my face as I grabbed his waist. As our lips started moving in sync, I pulled him closer to me.

He was the one to break the kiss, instantly leaning his forehead against mine. "I love you, darling," he whispered. "So you have to understand why I can't walk away and let you keep suffering in silence."

I leaned back, avoiding his eyes. I wanted this pain to go away, but I wasn't sure I was ready to talk about it. Tyler gently grabbed my chin and made me look back up at him. The second I saw his soft eyes staring at me, I knew he was the only one I could talk to. Tears filled my eyes as the events of a month ago started replaying in my mind. The second he saw the tears, he pulled me into his chest.

"It was horrible," I sobbed into his shirt. I felt him sigh as he tightened his arms around me. "I can't stop feeling the building shake. I can't stop hearing the howling of the winds. I can't stop seeing the destruction. Every time I close my eyes I see the bodies being dragged into the air. I can't sleep without reliving every moment of it."

"I'm so sorry, darling," he said under his breath. "I wish I was there. I wish I had been on your campus. I wish I had been with you in your lab. I could've gotten you out. I could've gotten you somewhere safe. I could've held you and told you everything was going to be okay. I could've helped you. I'm so sorry I wasn't."

"It's not your fault," I mumbled, slowly calming down.

"I would've been if I had gone to school with you," he sighed. I pulled out of his embrace and looked up at him.

"Ty," I said softly, "you do amazing work. You've helped hundreds of people all over the state. If you had gone to school with me. . . All those people you've helped. . . None of it would've happened."

"True," he said, dropping his voice again, "but I would've been with you."

Tyler leaned in and pressed his lips gently to mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck as I kissed him back. We broke the kiss but remained close to each other.

"Do you have nightmares?" He asked. I looked down and slowly nodded my head. He sighed as he readjusted his arms around me. "What do you do when you wake up from one of them?"

"Nothing," I stuttered.

"Not anymore," he shook his head. "Now, you call the guy who loves you."

"As long as he's okay receiving a call from the girl who loves him at 2, sometimes 3, in the morning."

Tyler gently grabbed my face and pressed his lips to mine. He broke the kiss with a smirk on his face.

"I want nothing more than to be woken up to a call from the girl I love telling me she needs me."

[bradleysass]

Valentine - @black-brothers-microfic - wc: 789 - Starchaser + Wolfstar

James had been looking forward to this night for weeks. He’d made the reservation in advance, picked out his outfit days before, and even spent an unreasonable amount of time trying to figure out if Regulus would prefer flowers or chocolates (he’d settled on both). It wasn’t often that Regulus let himself be romanced, and James was determined to make it perfect.

So of course, something had to go wrong.

Regulus looked stunning. It was the first thing James had noticed when he picked him up—how he was dressed sharply in a dark suit, perfectly tailored, an image so different from the usual oversized jumpers and effortless laziness that James loved just as much. Regulus had even let his hair fall in soft waves instead of the usual loose curls, and James had to resist the urge to shove him against the nearest wall and kiss him senseless.

“Stop staring,” Regulus had murmured, adjusting the cuffs of his suit jacket.

“Can’t help it,” James had grinned. “You’re beautiful.”

Regulus had rolled his eyes, but James had caught the tiny smirk he tried to hide.

They had arrived at the restaurant exactly on time, James feeling smug and accomplished—until the hostess had frowned at the reservation list, flipped a few pages, and said, “I’m so sorry, Mr. Potter, but it looks like there’s been a mix-up. We don’t have any two-person tables left.”

James had blinked. “What do you mean?”

“We accidentally double-booked, but we do have another couple who agreed to share their table, if that works for you?”

James had sighed, exasperated, but before he could protest, Regulus had spoken up, voice clipped. “Fine.”

James had turned, eyebrow raised. “You sure?”

“I’m hungry, and I’d rather not wait another hour for another restaurant. I don’t care who we sit with.”

That had turned out to be a mistake.

Because as they were led to their table, James quickly realized that the couple they were sharing with were none other than Sirius and Remus.

Sirius, who immediately burst into laughter upon seeing them. “Oh, this is fucking fantastic.”

Regulus, to his credit, did not immediately turn around and leave, though his jaw did tighten noticeably.

“I’m going to kill you,” he muttered under his breath to James.

James just gave him a sheepish smile before sitting down across from Sirius and Remus. “Fancy seeing you two here.”

“Didn’t realize you had a date tonight, baby brother,” Sirius said, smirking as he swirled his wine.

Regulus merely picked up the menu and ignored him.

Remus, who was clearly trying to keep the peace, smiled politely. “Well, at least this way we get to enjoy each other’s company. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Happy Valentine’s,” James replied easily, nudging Regulus under the table with his foot. “See? Could be worse.”

Regulus finally put the menu down and shot James a withering look. “How?”

“Well,” James said, grinning, “we could be stuck with, say, your mum instead of Sirius.”

Sirius snorted, and even Remus failed to hide his amused chuckle.

Regulus exhaled sharply and picked up his wine glass. “Fine. But I’m ordering the most expensive thing on the menu.”

James, who would have bought him the whole restaurant if he wanted it, just winked. “As you should, love.”

Dinner, surprisingly, was not a complete disaster. Sure, Sirius spent a fair amount of time making thinly veiled comments about how proud he was of Regulus for having “an actual social life,” and Regulus spent an equal amount of time glaring at him, but Remus kept the conversation pleasant, steering them towards safer topics. James, ever the optimist, enjoyed watching the brothers interact in their strange, passive-aggressive way. It was almost endearing.

By the time dessert arrived, Regulus had begrudgingly accepted that this wasn’t the worst thing in the world. He even let James feed him a bite of his chocolate lava cake, which Sirius dramatically gagged at before Remus elbowed him.

After the check was paid (James insisted, despite Regulus’ protests), they all stood to leave.

“Well,” Sirius said, slinging an arm around Remus’ shoulders, “this has been an unexpected delight. We should do it again sometime, baby brother.”

Regulus shot him a withering look. “We won’t.”

Sirius smirked. “I love you too.”

James, watching the exchange, leaned down to press a kiss to Regulus’ temple. “I had fun.”

Regulus sighed but didn’t push him away. “You would.”

As they stepped outside into the cool February air, James laced their fingers together and squeezed. “Next year, we’ll get our own table.”

Regulus glanced at him, something softer in his expression now. “Yeah. Next year.”

And when James kissed him under the streetlights, he tasted like chocolate and something sweeter—something like love.

[himblebo]

Again again thinking

[kittlyns]

I had yet another long, strenuous day yesterday and didn't finish work until super late and then I couldn't fall asleep until well past 2am cuz I was in so much pain from standing literally all day

[munch-mumbles]

ive been a little upset about it all night so i need to write out all the things that happened at work today and are bugging me so i can TRY to get it out of my head and actually RELAX bc i just keep pacing in circles around it instead of just accepting it and moving on

[scientia-rex]

A lot of younger people have no idea what aging actually looks and feels like, and the reasons behind it. That ignorance is so dangerous. If you don’t want to “be old,” you aren’t talking about a number of years. I have patients in their late 80s who could still handily beat me in a race—one couple still runs marathons together, in their late 80s—and I lost someone who was in her early 60s to COPD last year. What you want is not youth, it is health.

If you want to still be able to enjoy doing things in your 60s and 70s and 80s and even 90s, what you want to do, right now, is quit smoking, get some activity on a regular basis (a couple of walks a week is WAY better for you than nothing; increasing from 1 hour a day of cardio to 1.5 will buy you very little), and eat some plants. That’s it. No magic to it. No secret weird tricks. Don’t poison yourself, move around so your body doesn’t forget how, and eat plants.

If you have trouble moving around now because of mobility limitations, bad news: you still need to move around, not because it’s immoral not to, but because that’s still the best advice we have. I highly recommend looking up the Sit and Be Fit series; it is freely available and has exercises that can be done in a chair, which are suitable for people with limited mobility or poor balance. POTS sufferers, I’m looking at you.

If you have trouble eating plants because of dietary issues (they cause gas, etc.) or just because they’re bitter (super taster with texture issues here!), bad news. You still want to find a way to get some plants into your body on a regular basis. I know. It sucks. The only way I can do it is restaurants—they can make salads taste like food. I can also tolerate some bagged salads. On bad weeks, the OCD with contamination focus gets so bad I just can’t. However, canned beans always seem “safe,” and they taste a bit like candy, so they’re a good fallback.

If you smoke and you have tried quitting a million times and you’re just not ready to, bad news. You still need to quit. Your body needs you to try and keep trying. Your brain needs it, too. Damaging small blood vessels racks up cumulative damage over time that your body can start trying to reverse as soon as you quit. I know it’s insanely, absurdly addictive. You still need to.

You cannot rules lawyer your way past your body’s basic needs. It needs food, sleep, activity, and the absence of poison. Those are both small things and big asks. You cannot sustain a routine based on punishment, so don’t punish your body. Find ways to include these things that are enjoyable and rewarding instead. Experiment. There is no reason not to experiment—you don’t have to know instantly what’s going to work for you and what won’t, you just need to be willing to try things and make changes when things aren’t working for you.

You will still age. Your body will stop making collagen and elastin. Tissues you can see and tissues you can’t see will both sag. Cushioning tissues under your skin will get thinner. You’ll bruise more easily. Skin will tear more easily. Accumulated sun damage will start to show more and more. Joints will begin to show arthritis. Tendons and ligaments will get weaker and get injured more easily, as will muscles. Bones will lose mass and get easier to break. You’ll get tired more easily.

But you know what makes the difference between being dead, or as good as, in your 60s vs your 90s? Activity, plants, and quitting smoking. And don’t do meth. Saw a 58-year-old guy this week who is going to have a heart attack if he doesn’t quit whatever stimulant he’s on. I pretended to believe it was just the cigarettes, and maybe it is, but meth and cocaine will kill you quicker. Stop poisoning yourself.

Baby steps; take it one step at a time; you don’t need to have everything figured out right now. But you do need to be working on figuring things out.

[itsalwaysdark]

oh nooo i stayed up late . do you think theyre going to kill me

[a-sleepy-ginger]

21/6/24

❊✺❂✺❊

Had alot of fun drawing

Yuru camp

[nezuscribe]

𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you find yourself in a marriage that you never wanted in the first place. your husband seems to hate you and you begin to wonder if anything you used to think of him was even true. who would have though a marriage to gojo satoru would be so difficult?

warnings: 18+ mdni, arranged marriage, misunderstandings and just not talking shit out, mentions of cheating, slight angst (with comfort), eating out (fem! receiving), fingering, gojo doesn't really know how to husband for some of it

word count: 10.9K (whoops)

note: part two is up! i really had a lot of fun writing this so reblogs and comments are always appreciated! as always, thank you to @jadeisthirsting for beta reading <3

jjk masterlist

never did you think that you’d be stuck in a marriage to a man who didn’t love you, but there’s a first for everything. 

you should count yourself lucky that he’s not old and bald. he’s pretty. in fact, he’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. his eyes are the bluest, bluer than the sky. his hair mirrors the winter snows, and his back ripples with muscles whenever he fights. 

his agility is unlike any other man. he fights swiftly and cleanly, never taking more than a couple minutes to get rid of whatever it was that stood in his way. he’s charming with his words (or so you’ve heard), and he knows how to make somebody swoon if he really wants them to. 

and he seems to despise you.

you had known gojo since you were a child, the two of you running around each other's fields as you chased him with your wooden sword. you remembered watching him in training, wishing him good luck whenever he went on a hunt. you could even remember how he would stutter whenever he tried to talk, something he must have worked on because he never seemed to stutter anymore. 

he was always nice to you, his cheeks rosy whenever you kissed him goodbye. he was kind back then, grinning brightly whenever he saw you. 

but as time grew and you with it, and it was only a matter of years before the two of you went your separate ways. it didn’t help that once he turned thirteen he had to leave for training and fighting in whatever it was that was needed of him, but you had hoped that he would be able to write back. 

you would send him letters whenever you could, it was tradition whenever the two of you were separated for too long to do so. each letter telling him about new experiences and embarrassing things that happened in your life, but he never responded. you liked to send one every week, sometimes including little tokens you thought he might enjoy. but you stopped sending them after the first two years and stopped asking about his whereabouts after three. 

but you were hopeful that when you saw him that night so many months ago, he’d be civil with you. you were nervous, sure, but who could blame you? you had recently gotten news that his time to serve his clan was over and that he was finally back home. it wasn’t as though the two of you had left on bad graces, so you were hopeful that he would at least remember you. but he could barely meet your eyes whenever you tried to catch him from across the room, acting as if you had never existed. 

he looked so different since the last time you had seen him. he was taller than most of the people in the room, his white hair just as bright as it used to be. he had gained muscle mass almost everywhere, and you felt yourself wondering just how much training he had to go through to look this way. you could see him talking to a girl, a smile on his face as he tilted his head to look at her better. you gave him some time to socialize, not wanting to intrude on anything. 

after an hour you decided that it was long enough, and tried to weave your way through the crowd to get to him. you had tried to call out to him, waving to him despite your mother quickly shoving your hand down, saying how improper it was. he heard you and you knew that he was purposely ignoring you, so you began to feel heavy-hearted after a couple of attempts at trying to catch his attention, eventually giving up. 

and now, despite you wanting to, you can’t even blame him for hating you. 

ever since your mother caught you, alone with him, a man you hadn’t seen in so long, she had swiftly and promptly proposed the idea of marriage only a few days later. it was really to save face for the two families, but it helped that this marriage would unify the two clans. 

you were sure he had ladies lined up to marry him, and you weren’t somebody he was actively trying to pursue. you didn’t even know if he was in love with somebody else if he shared a connection with a girl who was surely not you and cursed you for taking that away from him. 

not that it mattered now. 

all you wanted was to reconcile, to catch up on all the things happening in your lives. you wanted to hear all the stories he must have racked up over the years, not for this to happen. all the things he wanted for himself were ripped away because of one night from one simple act of kindness, and so you couldn’t find it in yourself to hate him for the way he acted.

you rarely come down for dinner whenever he’s there, but when you do, you feel those eyes turn icy, tracking your every movement till you sit down opposite of him. he doesn’t say much, just mutters a quiet “good evening” and you’re sure he’s only doing it so the maids don’t start to gossip. 

whenever your hand brushes his you feel him snap back, flexing his hand as though your touch burned him. he rarely came by to ask you about how you felt, and so you stopped trying to act kindly towards him if he didn’t want anything to do with it.

any semblance of romance you had dreamed of as a young girl quickly dissipated when you realized your husband wanted nothing to do with you, so you didn’t try to pursue any sort of love, deciding it’d be easier if he just did his part and you did yours so the two clans wouldn’t worry. 

he was always gone, which might be the best for the two of you. when he’s not training new men then he’s gone in a hunt. if he’s not in a hunt then he’s somewhere in his endless home, hiding away. 

you don’t know if he does this for him, for your sake, or for everybody else. 

“did you see your husband this morning?” one of your maids said excitedly as she tugged the undergarments over your raised arm, a gleeful smile on her face as she rambled about something gojo had done. you couldn’t help but return a smile of your own, although it didn’t quite meet your eyes. 

“yes, briefly. he’s busy with having to worry about the feast,” which wasn’t a total lie. you’d seen him hurriedly brush past you, quickly glancing at you as if he had forgotten you were his wife. you felt your chest tighten up with the way he glanced at your hand, and then quickly left. 

it was only a few nights away and you knew that it was the only buzz of news anybody seemed to talk about. unfortunately, for you, it meant having to socialize with other clans. you were fine with that aspect, you’d been doing it since you were young, but this time they had a right to be nosey. you knew there would be endless questions asked about the honeymoon stage of your marriage, to which you had no answer. 

sure, you’d been making up answers to hypothetical questions, but you didn’t know what gojo would be answering with, so you were only praying some of your responses would line up. 

for a night the two of you would have to pretend to be husband and wife, and while the people around you knew you were anything, you knew you had to commit to the role for the sake of you and your family’s dignity. 

but all this worrying isn’t good for your head, you could already feel the pang as you squeezed your eyes to try and get rid of it. you tried to move on from your worries, going to comment on her necklace, it seemed new, but a knock interrupted you. the two of your heads popped up, looking at where the sound came from. 

“come in!” you called out, buttoning up the last bits of your top as you thanked myra. she nodded, bowing as she went to open the door. you could hear her faint footsteps, not bothering to look up as she greeted the person behind. you guessed it was franchesca coming with the fabric samples. 

“sir,” you heard myra say, and your head swirled around, only to see the topic of your conversation make his way into your room, excusing your maid with a swift motion of his hand. she glanced once at you and then to him, ducking her head as she left, closing the door behind her as she left you two alone. 

you felt heat prickle at the back of your neck as he looked at you and then to your room. the two of you slept separately, as per your request the first night. you couldn’t bear the agonizing silence between the two of you, and he obliged. 

he was dressed for sparring. he had a loose-fitting tunic on, and pants that would allow him to move freely and without constraint. it was in moments like these that you were reminded of the fact that gojo was the strongest warrior that any of the clans had seen, that the child who once splurged on sugar in his tea was capable (and has done so before) of taking down entire armies. 

he had matured so much since what you last remembered from him. he no longer acted rashly nor spoke without thinking about what it was he wanted to say. but you still saw him eating sweets with the same fervor he did as a kid, and it never failed to make you smile, hiding it behind your hand so nobody could hear your quiet giggle. 

it had been a while since it was just the two of you, alone, and all you could think about was that night. your cheeks heated up just thinking about it, and it seemed that gojo could tell your discomfort with the way he cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair as he began to speak. 

“good morning,” he started, his eyes darting around, never setting on yours. it was funny if it didn’t cause your heart to hurt irrevocably, at how the strongest warrior in all the land could barely look at his wife. 

if only you knew.

“good morning.” you offered him a quick, disingenuous smile, moving around until you found your vanity, rummaging through your laid-out earrings as you kept your back to him, not trusting your face to give you away if you were to look at him for too long. 

you heard him take in an audible breath, but he continued whatever it was he wanted to say. 

“with the feast coming up, i want to clear some things with you,” you turned around, looping the earrings in as you nodded for him to continue. it was such a shame he was so stunning, effortlessly attractive as the sun caught off his cheekbones, bouncing off of his chest. he rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, and you wondered if being here was just as painfully awkward for him as it was for you. 

“we should act like we’re…” he trailed off and you felt yourself itching to leave, knowing what he meant without having to say it. 

“in love?” you finished and he slowly nodded, gnawing on his lip as you brushed past him, going to find the mirror so you could adjust your jewelry. you could see him fidgeting in the corner, and for once you could see a hint of nervousness and unease on his features. 

and a part of you hurt. you would never admit out loud that you harbored a crush on him for as long as you could remember. it hurt knowing that you acting like you were in love was perhaps the lost genuine form of love you could show. 

“what if they ask about the night we met?” you ask after a couple of seconds, looking up from what you were doing. deep down, you knew somebody was bound to ask. even if it was just your mother who had caught the two of you alone in that garden, the news of it somehow spread (she was always one to talk). 

he scratches his head, shrugging as he eventually settles on an idea.

“just tell them the truth.” 

the truth. 

tell them how he followed you after you had run outside, sick to your stomach after a man, who was as old as your father, had introduced himself as a possible suitor. how gojo, the most ruthless warrior in all the land, had carefully put his hands on your back as you retched, offering you a towel he had fetched from inside to clean yourself up. 

tell them how you hadn’t seen him in years but the first thing you had done was to hug him tightly. how his hands wrapped around your back as though they were the only things keeping you afloat. perhaps they were. 

tell them how he murmured words in your hair to bring you back to reality, his thumb running up and down your arms to calm you down. how it seemed like even though it had been years since you two last saw each other, it felt so right, so normal, to be back in his arms. 

tell them how he had looked at you with such worry, such care, unlike anybody else had looked at you, and you for once felt safe in somebody’s arms. 

tell them how your mother found you two in such a compromising position, with your head nestled in his chest as he tried his very best to soothe your cries. it was humiliating and embarrassing to be caught with a man you had only seen back in your teenage years, and especially so in such a vulnerable position. 

you shake your head, scoffing at the idea, “i’ll just come up with something,” was your answer and he nods along, realizing how the story would be too private to share with people you barely knew.

“and we need a reason for why,” he cleared his throat once again, pink dusting on his cheeks as his eyes dropped to your stomach. your eyes met his in the mirror, and one of your eyebrows raised, “well, you’re not exactly looking like you’re carrying a child at the moment.” 

you quickly looked away, the tension in the room increasing as you moved away from the mirror, doing anything you could to keep your hands occupied. you flushed at the comment, your throat drying up as you glanced at your stomach.

the two of you have barely touched, much less been intimate with each other. you were glad he hadn’t forced the idea onto you, instead, leaving it to you to bring up the topic. you only talked about it, once, the night of the marriage, and then never again. you knew that it would have to happen eventually, but you couldn’t do it right now, not with your state of mind. 

you scrambled to say something. in all honesty, you had been dreading this question. you hadn’t been answering any of the letters your mother sent, and you knew people were expecting to hear the news of a pregnancy. 

“we’ll just say we’ve been so busy and preoccupied with the politics of marriage that we couldn’t… consummate.” you offered and he just shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as if this was the biggest inconvenience to him. 

you knew that this marriage was brought upon quickly and before either of you could object to it, but at least you tried to hide it away. if only he hadn’t acted so rashly that night, his hands on your shoulders, eyes bewildered as they racked over your figure. if only he had been more careful, or you were smarter in picking some place to be more concealed, you wouldn’t be put in this position. 

but neither of you was thinking ahead, and here you were. but he was certainly making sure that you knew of his contempt for this arrangement far more than you were. it was irritating, it scratched at your skin and ate away at your mind the more you saw each other.

“look,” he couldn’t take his eyes off of you, off of the way you were fiddling with the ring he had delicately placed on your hand so many weeks ago, “i can come up with whatever they ask, so just try your best to do the same.” you say, your voice tinged with anger, the ring on your finger acting as an anchor to the depths of the sea with the way it weighed down your movements, feeling your chest swell as he stayed silent, watching you as you opened the door. 

“i don’t-”

“um, i won’t be joining you for dinner, so don’t wait on me…i apologize, i need to work on some things for the feast…have a good day.” you swiftly murmured, shutting him in your own room as you left, your heart thumping erratically in your chest as you almost ran down the hallway. 

you had no idea how you were going to persuade the masses that this marriage was working if you couldn’t even persuade yourself. 

---

the feast of clans came earlier than you expected. 

you found yourself perched at the end of the table, gojo next to you, your stiff bodies mirroring each other as the people around you joyously helped themselves to the vast variety of food offered. 

you could barely touch the meal in front of you, your stomach churning uncomfortably with the sheer number of people that surrounded you. back home, you hated these feasts, opting to leave after a couple of bites and finish the rest of what you could pocket in your room, but here, as the clan leader's wife, you had no such luxury. 

“are you not hungry?” you looked to your side, gojo staring at your plate and then to you, his eyes squinting as he tried to decipher what you were feeling.

“i can’t eat,” you murmured, playing with your utensils as you swallowed thickly, “i don’t do well in large crowds.” 

he nodded once, looking out into the sea of bodies as he inched a little bit closer to you. he was donned in expensive fabrics, although his hair still messily fell all over. the candle that was lit in front of you had different hues of oranges and reds bouncing off of his pale skin, and if you didn’t know any better, the blush on his nose and cheeks could have been from the frigid winds from outside. 

“i’ll have myra save you a plate,” he said, giving you a curt smile as he went back to eating. 

you were momentarily taken aback by his comment, but tried not to show it, going back to fidgeting with your ring as you looked at the sea of people. nobody had thankfully come up to you and bombarded you with questions, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t going to eventually happen. 

“thank you,” you say, glancing at him and then back to your plate. 

“anything for my wife,” he replies. it’s only for show, you remind yourself, after all, when was the last time he referred to you as such? 

“gojo,” an old man had walked up to your table, his face lined with wrinkles and a beard, dressed in orange as he offered gojo his hand to shake, “i’m glad to see that you finally settled down.”

gojo blushed deeply, trying to offer him a smile as he motioned to you. 

“it’s hard to resist marriage when such a woman offers it.” he says, and you feel your eyes widen as you try to laugh off his statement. 

“yes,” the old man chuckles, eyeing the two of you. he looked familiar, and you were sure you had seen him around these sorts of gatherings before, “it was only a matter of time before it happened. we all knew just how much you liked her back when you were children.”

the two of you sputtered on your coughs, and you felt a little smile grow on your face as gojo did what he could to usher the man away. 

you could tell with the way he shifted uncomfortably in his seat that gojo wasn’t expecting that, and before you could realize what you were doing you found yourself talking. 

“i’m not a fan of feasts.” you quickly said, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop them. it’s not like you felt you owed him an explanation, but you said it regardless. 

gojo looked up from his plate, grabbing his cup so he could wash down his bite. 

“any feast?” he asked, and you could feel the way the air shifted. he was glad you brought up a different topic. 

“one’s as big as this,” you twisted your ring back and forth on your finger subconsciously, “i get nervous in big crowds.”

“i remember,” a small smile grew on his face as he thought back to when the two of you were children, “you would hide under the tables and force me to come with you.” 

you chuckled, blood rushing to your ears at the fact that he remembered this about you. it was the bare minimum of what you remembered from him, but you had convinced yourself that he had washed every memory of your last selves from his mind. 

a rush of distant memories came to your head; nights spent under the tables, laughing as you two tried to keep your voices down as you tried to dodge the feet. you could still hear his whispers of staying quiet, trying to sneak out so he could smuggle in some pastries for you to eat.

“the adults scared me; they were always loud and insistent on asking personal questions.”

“like they are now?” he replied back, a tilt in his voice as you nodded feverishly. 

“yes!” you covered your mouth with your hand as you let out a laugh, a genuine one as you tried to look as put together as you could, “i swear, it’s even worse than when we were young. just the other day a wet nurse came to me and told me the best positions to get into when giving birth!” it really was a mortifying moment, your eyes darting all around as the old lady even took it upon herself to demonstrate the movements, but gojo didn’t seem to mind, laughing along with you. his eyes twinkled as they took in your giggly state, years since he had last seen you like this. 

“i feel like i should apologize,” he starts, having to cover his own infectious smile as he ducks down his head in shame, “i had her sent up to your chambers.”

your mouth dropped open in shock, lightly smacking his arm as he grinned at the look on your face.

“to mortify me so that i would never leave?” your thumb moves your ring back and forth and gojo watches you as you do it. 

“you seemed sick at breakfast, but i guess she thought it was a different sort of sickness.” gojo tells you as he cuts off some of his meat, not knowing just how much his words affected you. 

you had forgotten how simple and easy conversations were with gojo. although this was under a guise to fool people, you felt at ease with him, as if you didn’t have to be on guard with your emotions when he was around. 

“do you still want to hide under the table now?” he asked a couple of seconds later, chewing on a potato as you shrugged, looking around before your lips grew into an apologetic smile. 

“…yes,” you admitted bashfully and he smiled at your honest response. 

“if you want to hide, i’ll-”

“satoru!” a booming voice interrupted your endless spiral of thoughts as the two of you glanced upwards at the sound, “it’s been too long!” 

a man with hair as dark as night and a smile wider than any ocean had come up to your table. he was the first one to do so all night, but gojo didn’t seem bothered by it. he seemed to smile, crescents forming around his eyes as he took his friend's hand.

“too long,” he emphasized with a charming grin, motioning to you and then back to the man in front of you as if he suddenly remembered the two of you and never met, “suguru, this is my wife, y/n. y/n, this is one of my oldest friends.” 

you extended your hand outwards and the man, suguru, took it, placing a soft kiss on the back of it as he shot you a playful smile. he wasn’t at the wedding, but then yet again, it was a rather quick one. the only people who had attended were your families. 

“it’s a pleasure to meet you.” he greeted, and you nodded in agreement, sitting back down next to gojo. you felt his long fingers reach for yours, enveloping your hand in his as your heart sputtered at the touch. 

“likewise,” you answered and the man grinned politely before he slightly tilted his head, looking at the two of you sitting next to each other. 

“he’s not bothering you, is he? i know satoru can be fiendish when he wants to be, so call for me and i’ll take care of him.” he teased and you could only smile tightly and laugh along, gojo’s fingers slightly tightening around yours as he moved your hand to rest on his thigh. 

“i can take care of him when he’s fiendish. i just have to take the sugar away, right?” suguru snorted and gojo glared, but it was playful the way he looked at you. 

his hands were warmer than you would have expected. you could feel the indents of calluses on his fingertips, could feel his thumb moving back and forth on your skin in a calming sort of manner. he didn’t look over at you as he did it, playing it off as second nature. 

“i apologize for not having much time to get to know you, but i have something i need to talk to gojo about. would you mind? it will only take a minute?” he asked, and gojo let go of your hand at the time of his friend's voice. you had to control your urge to roll your eyes, shifting in your seat as you motioned for suguru to talk to your husband, watching as he stood from his seat, leaving with the man as they went somewhere a little more secluded. 

you watched as gojo leaned down to hear whatever it was that suguru was whispering in his ear, pulling back with a frown on his face. he snapped something that only caused suguru to reel back, cast a quick glance at you, and then shake his head in clear annoyance. 

you saw gojo look up, his eyes landing on somebody from across the room, and you followed his stare, only to land on a girl. 

she wore a dark yellow tunic and skirt, colors from a neighboring clan. you hadn’t seen her before, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t known. just one look at the men surrounding her and you could pick up on their lovesick expressions. 

she motioned for gojo to come to her with a bend of her finger, slyly brushing her hair out of her face to make it look as though it was nothing, exiting from the dining area and vanishing into one of the halls. 

you looked down in case either of the men glanced over to see if you were staring. your eyes pierced through the meat on your plate, bile rising up your throat. 

you gave yourself some time, counting up to a minute before you looked back to where suguru and gojo were, finding suguru standing alone. you looked at where the girl was and saw a flash of white hair before it disappeared, your heart sinking as you glanced back at suguru, only to find him looking at you. 

you looked back at your plate, picking up a knife and fork as you stabbed the meat. you couldn’t keep anything down but it’s best to pretend.

---

gojo didn’t return until half an hour later, and you refused to talk to him. 

“did anybody bombast you with questions?” he teased, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. he didn’t seem to pick up on your darkened mood as your fingers dug into your dress. 

“i had a woman ask me if you had disappeared with your mistress, but that was it.” you remarked, silence filling the void between the two of you and you realized that all you had thought of him was crumbling down. 

you didn’t care for your image anymore, giving curt answers to any questions somebody had asked. you could feel his stare on the side of your face but you didn’t humor him in looking over, focusing on your plate instead. 

so what if he was seeing somebody else? you would have been naive to think that he wouldn’t wander. the two of you barely touched each other. 

once all the guests had left over the course of the following days, you did everything you could to steer away from gojo. 

you no longer came down for breakfast or dinner, choosing to eat in your own quarters. if he wanted to have his own secrets, he could do whatever he pleased. 

though you rarely saw suguru after the feast, he did try to talk to you the morning after it took place. he cornered you after you had left from breakfast, his once playful demeanor turned serious as you tried your best to end the conversation. 

“what you saw last night-”

“is none of my business,” you finished, raising your hand as you cut him off, “if gojo has his own private matters to deal with, i’m indifferent to them all.” 

“you know that’s not what it was.” his hand hovered over your arm, careful not to touch you but not wanting you to leave either. 

“i ruined his life, didn’t i?” you tilted your head a bit in questioning. after all, that’s all you could hear from the women who gossiped as they folded the laundry, or behind the hands of the girls who watched you and gojo interact and the mothers who wanted their daughters to be set up with him only sneered at you from across the tables. 

“you…where’d you get that from?” his brows scrunched together in confusion as you scoffed, hoping he couldn’t see the tears welling in the corner of your eyes at the sting of your own words. 

“i can see it on his face. if gojo wants to have his own affairs, he can have them. it’s not like we’re in love. hopefully, i find my own way out so that the two of us look happier and this marriage looks somewhat presentable to the public.” 

you didn’t want to see the look on his face, but you’re sure he reported this all back to gojo because he didn’t look at you once after it. 

you heard from a maid a week later that he was gone for another meeting with a clan, a southern one from what you picked up, and that you should probably go and wish him some luck. 

leading up to the night of his departure you anxiously paced around your room, your feet padding on the floor as your nightgown swished behind you. 

you hadn’t talked to gojo at all that day, and purposefully so. 

it was petty, you know it was, to not want to see him, but a part of you still aches when you look back on that night. at how he didn’t explain where he was even after you asked, at how it was suguru he had sent to fix his dirty work for him. 

“y/n?” a muffled voice came from outside your door. 

your head shot up at the familiar sound, quietly dragging yourself out from your bed as you grabbed the candle, hovering on the other side as you waited for him to say something else. 

“are you awake?” you heard a soft thud from his side, almost as if his head or arm had hit the door. 

you didn’t answer, still, waiting. 

“i’m leaving tomorrow and i wanted to see you before i left.” your heart skipped at his words, careful not to make a sound as you near the door. 

“if you’re sleeping i won’t bother you anymore but if you’re not,” you could hear the old stutter he had coming back, his words meshing together as he tried to regain control, “and you’re choosing to stay quiet, i…” he sighed, his forehead thumping down as he rested it on the door, “i wanted to apologize for the feast. i shouldn’t have left you alone, and if you’d open the door, i would explain why…” he could see the flicker of the candle from underneath the crack, and saw the way it blew away, darkness following suit. 

you walked back to your bed, turning your back to the door as you set the candle down on your table. 

“goodnight,” his voice was quieter than before, and you felt guilty, but pushed the bitter feeling down.

a couple of seconds later you heard him let out a sigh of defeat, his footsteps leading away from your bedroom as you curled into yourself, hoping you would let your heart stop taking control of what your head should be doing. 

---

gojo didn’t return for a while, and you grew more impatient by the day. 

it normally took him and his men a week at maximum, and once two had passed, you felt yourself growing uneasy. 

you tried to act as passive as you could, but even myra could pick up on your growing apprehension. you have never voiced your worries over your husband before, but she knew this wasn’t like any other time. 

when you went to bed, the only thing you could dream about was that night, your brain re-running the images as you tossed and turned. 

“are you alright?” he asked, his hands on your elbows as you could barely speak, your blurry vision impairing your sight. you could only see a mop of white in the darkness, your stomach betraying you as you tried to keep the sick down. 

“i don’t feel too good,” you mumbled, trying to put some distance between the two of you as you pushed him away, only to feel him coming closer as he placed a hand on your forehead and then to your cheeks. 

“you’re burning up,” he muttered under his breath, guiding you gently so that you wouldn’t trip over your feet. 

“i’m sorry, you can go back inside, i don’t want to keep you out here.” you were slurring your words as you tried not to throw up on him. you wiped at your eyes so that you could see him better, only to reel back in utter shock to see the face of your childhood friend frowning down at you. 

your mouth formed in the shape of his name, going to say something else, before you hunched over, feeling his strong hands pat your back and keep the hair out of your face as you felt your world tilt on its axis. 

you ate your dinner at the table, eyeing his empty seat as you tried to shove his last night out of your mind. you shouldn’t feel this way, especially about a man who feels nothing towards you, but your little heart was churning in its confines the more you let yourself think about it.

sitting in the same spot where the feast took place only brought back the venomous taste in your mouth, and so you pretended that you were back home, eating somewhere without the worry of your life weighing you down like a thousand weights on your shoulders. 

myra tried her best to distract you, but she could see the distant look in your eyes, how your voice never seemed too genuine. she began to worry for you, but it seemed like your mind was fixed on one thing. 

until you found yourself pacing around your room, just like you were the night you last heard of him, playing with the ring on your finger as the moon carded through your window. 

“my lady,” you heard myra through the door, her voice shaky and a bit more on edge than usual, “there’s-” but before she could finish it slammed open, revealing the man you’d been biting your nails over, standing in the flesh.

his eyes were a dark blue, squinted as they looked right through you. his chest heaved as he looked like he was trying to catch his breath. you could see the streaks of blood that lined his usually clean clothes, the red that stained his cheeks and jaw. 

he looked feral, and it was throwing you off balance. 

“out.” he snapped at myra, and before you could scold him for his tone she fled, the door shutting roughly behind her. 

the two of you could only stare at each other. you didn’t know what to think after weeks of uselessly worrying over him, not knowing about his well-being, to see him here, in front of you, but looking different than he ever had. 

“are you alright?” 

you could barely get it out, the works sticking on your tongue as you took a tentative step forward, not knowing what to do with his state of being. 

he eyed the blood on his shirt, wiping at his cheeks as if he had forgotten it was there. he didn’t look too dirty, less dirty than one would expect from a five week endeavor through the woods, but he didn’t look too good either. 

“you were awake.” is all he says, his chest still moving up and down as though he couldn’t breathe properly. 

“that night i came by, you were awake. i saw your candle, i heard your footsteps.” he says this as though it’s fighting its way out of his mouth as if it’s all he could think about to tell you. 

“i,” you pretend that you don’t care, shrugging, “i wasn’t up to talk.” 

“you were with suguru.” he snaps, his tone shocking you, and he steps back as if he had shocked himself. he jammed his palms into his eyes, tilting his head upwards before he looked back at you. 

“for five weeks you were all i could think about. i wanted to come back, i wanted to tell you what i felt but we kept running into issues with other tribes and clans.” 

“what could you possibly think about that occupied your mind for five weeks?” you so desperately wanted your voice to come out strong but it sounded weak, as though you were hanging off of his every syllable. 

“you had told suguru that you were going to find your…own way out,” he took a step forward, and here you could see the scratches on his chest, the cuts on his arms, “i was praying to every god there was that you hadn’t found somebody in these past weeks, that you hadn’t…”

you could barely believe his words, not knowing if you should feel offended, shocked, worried, or a mix of all those three. 

“what business would it be to you if i did?” you hate that this was the response you settled on. hurt flashed across his face but he tried to regain his composure. 

“you are my wife-”

“and you are my husband!” you snapped and watched as he was momentarily taken aback by your outburst, but you continued your nose flaring, “you cannot argue with me on this when you left with some girl in the middle of our feast!” you felt all your emotions finally pouring out and you had no control over them, “everybody was talking about it, everybody was looking at me in pity!” your voice cracked, tears poking at your eyes as you pointed an accusatory finger at him. 

gojo looked down, running a hand through his hair as he pointed a finger back. 

“if you had let me explain myself, you would have known that she was trying to do what you thought she was. i left as quickly as i could but you would barely look at me!” you wanted to rip your hair out, cursing yourself for ever feeling any sort of worry for this man. 

“i know that this marriage was the last thing you wanted but at least you could play the part of a husband! you didn’t send a single note, anything to tell us that you were okay, that you were alive!” you heaved, fidgeting with your ring as you wiped at your cheeks, “and you come back here accusing me of adultery? all everybody could talk about was the fact that you were warming somebody else’s bed! they said a meeting never takes this long unless something…somebody else comes up.” your voice wobbles at the end, and you find yourself furiously rubbing your tears away, hiding your sniffing as though that would do anything.  

he paused upon seeing you cry, his face falling as he tried to step forward but you angled yourself away from him, hoping he’d get the hint. 

he wanted to hold you, to tell you that all the rumors you were hearing were false and that the only room he had left in his heart was for you. but he couldn’t blame you for feeling or thinking this way. hell, he was so sure that he’d open the door to find another man comforting you that he didn’t even stop to consider what must have been going through your head all these weeks. 

“one of the clans tried to attack us, and we weren’t ready for it. that is why we took so long.” 

you sniffle again, not caring for his explanation although it did soothe a part of your past self. 

“you could have at least sent a letter telling me what happened,” you fidget with your ring, your thumb running over the diamond, “everybody asked me questions that i should have had answers to, but i had no idea where you were or what you were doing…” he nods, his lips pressed into a thin line as he agreed with you. 

“you're right,” his voice was thick with emotion, the words slurring in his mouth as he found himself anchored in place, not knowing what to do. but you were rambling, your thoughts going on and on and you couldn’t stop yourself. 

“…but i know you don’t like letters, so the least you could have done was send a parchment saying i’m alive or something like that.” you rub at your nose again, feeling like all the weeks of worry we’re coming to a standpoint. 

he looked confused now, if anything, and scratched at his jaw. 

“what do you mean?” 

you scoff at the audacity, rolling your eyes as you feel anger prickle at your skin. 

“you never once responded to any of my letters. in my eyes, that must mean you have some sort-”

“letters? what letters?” 

you glance at him, taking in his shaking form. 

“come on gojo,” you feel embarrassed as he urges you to speak, having to spell it out for him, his eyes pleading with you to continue, “the ones from when you left for training.”

his mouth opens and then closes, looks at the ground and then back up to you as he shakes his head. you could hear your fireplace crackling in the background. the only sounds circling the room were the pops of ember and your breathing. 

“i…” he feels like there’s cotton in his mouth, hoping that you’re lying, “i never got any letters.” 

the fire crackled once again and you could almost hear a pin drop as you shook your head vehemently at his statement. 

“n-no, no you did. i wrote to you every week, i sent one every week for two years and you never responded and my mother said that you must have forgotten about me…” and you trail off, the tears in your eyes stoning as he furiously wipes at his own eyes, and for the first time since you had seen him fall down when he was a kid, you saw his own tears staining his cheeks. 

“nobody gave me your letters. i thought that you,” he takes a deep breath, tongue poking inside his cheek as he tried to control himself, “i thought that you didn’t care for me anymore.” 

you hug your midsection, your emotions running wild at his words. 

“i was under the impression that you hated me.” you admit, and he looks as though you stabbed him through the heart. if only others could see the powerful warrior now, stripped bare to his conscience and all he could think about was you. 

“why…why would you think such a thing?” you two inch closer without knowing it, longing to touch each other, wanting to know that the other was really there and that this wasn’t a figment of your imaginations. 

“gojo, you could barely looked at me that night at the gala and now it seems as though you, well, look at you - you’re flushed!” you’re grasping at straws, motioning towards his face,  twinged with pink as you rub at your nose, “you seem angry whenever i am near-” 

“the only person i am angry at is myself.” gojo whispers, but his voice echoed around the expanse of your skull. 

“yes, i’m aware,” you feel cold despite the fire in the corner, your tone carrying an air of know as you scorn, “i know the last thing you expected by comforting me was a marriage but-” 

“you think i am angry because i married you?” he was moving closer, his hands shaking, his eyes wet. you could see the ring on his finger glow in the dim light of the fireplace, how it shined brighter than any of the night skies, “the only good thing that has happened to me these last few months was being able to introduce myself as your husband. i know that i stripped you bare of any love you may have had for any other man, but call me selfish for feeling glad that i did.” 

you could barely focus on what was happening, his words sinking deep into your skin, going to your bones. 

“i told myself that you had forgotten about me those years i left. when i saw you that night i was so sure you had come with the intention of finding a suitor that i didn’t want to distract you, but then i saw that man come up to you…” and he couldn’t finish, choking on his words as he stuttered, and you saw a glimpse of the boy you had fallen in love with so long ago. 

“and i followed you out. if i knew that simply being alone with you would have gotten me married to you then i would have cornered you in a closet the moment i saw you enter the dining hall.” 

a tear rolls down your chin, splattering on the ground beneath you as you struggle to make sense of what he was saying. it felt as though the months of being married to him were weeks spent pacing around your own rooms, thinking the same worried thoughts, and not having the strength to confront each other about it. 

“you…you don’t hate me?” your voice is timid, almost not believing yourself as the statement tumbled out. gojo had the audacity to laugh a bit, shaking his head as strands of his hair fell into his face. 

“my every waking moment is spent thinking of you. when i was in training, you were all i could dream about, hoping that when i’d come home i could finally have you to myself. 

“you have control over my emotions, my mind, my soul, and i cursed myself for taking away your options for a husband, but the only thing i’ve wanted to do these past few weeks was to hold you in my arms. to tell you just how deeply i yearn for your love back.” 

he wiped at his cheeks, glistening in the faint light. he looked angelic, despite the grime and blood that decorated his clothing. you didn’t want to think about the men he had killed just to come back, to come back to you, and the thought of ever losing him hurt you more than when you spent nights wondering why he never responded to any of your letters. 

you couldn’t stop your feet from leading you toward him, and you could only watch as he met you in the middle, catching you with all his strength, holding you as if you weighed nothing, and it only took a few seconds before your lips collided. 

it was rushed, and messy as you felt his hands holding you as if you carried the weight of the universe. your teeth clashed, your tears staining each other's skin as your hands gripped at his hair, using it for leverage as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, enjoying the whimper that escaped your lips when he nipped at yours. 

it was what years of longing and desperation felt like. how it felt like you two just molded into each other as if your bodies were cut out with the other in mind. you felt like your heart was about to stop beating, and you knew gojo felt the same with the way he’d whine against your lips, wanting you more than you could have ever imagined. 

“we’ve been stupid people, haven’t we?” you whispered as you pulled away, trying to catch your breath as he smiled against you. if only you knew just how much he’d been wanting to kiss you like this, to see your swollen lips as you looked at him from beneath your eyelashes. you were his venus, his only saving grace, and he could only vex himself for ever making you feel anything but love. 

“very, “ he pressed a kiss to the corner of your eyes, “very,” to your nose, “stupid,” his lips were on your cheeks, feeling like he was breathing in new air at the sound of your laughter, “people.” he pressed his lips to yours again, cherishing in the way you whined at the harshness. 

he had spent months convincing himself that you no longer cared for him. weeks of perilous training to only come back to a bed and dream of a girl who didn’t share his emotions when in reality you did. he wants to track down the letters you had sent him, to read every word carefully, as if each sentence carried its own riddle inside of it. he wanted to apologize for never having the honor of experiencing your skilled penmanship, for leading you to believe that he had simply forgotten about you. 

“gojo,” your fingers curl in his tunic, your heat transferring, trying to be rational in such an irrational state of being, “you’re bleeding, i should call for the doctor.” he didn’t stop kissing your face, moving to your jaw as he smiled hearing you shudder. 

“it’s not my blood,” he murmured and you wanted to smack him for how cocky he sounded, “and don’t call me gojo.” he nipped at your lips again. 

“husband?” you found yourself smiling at the title, but he shook his head. you saw how he was trying to hide his own grin. 

“sire?” you tested it out teasingly, hating how it sounded. he seemed to agree with the way he grimaced at the name. 

“my lord?” he wanted to bottle up your laughter forever, knowing he could get drunk off of the sound. his nose nudged up at your jaw, pressing wet kisses wherever he could. 

“hmm, what about my liege?” you're curling a strand of his hair around your fingers letting him settle you down on your vanity as you spread your legs so he could slot between them. 

“my men call me that.” he says, cringing as it falls off your mouth. you pretend to think, not knowing how you were able to live without this banter for as long as you did. 

“satoru?” you felt breathless saying it after so long. but he still didn’t seem to find it satisfactory enough, a pout on his lips as he wanted you to find a better one. 

“close, but only when you’re angry with me.” you tuck that information in the back of your mind for if you ever need to scold him, your cheeks flushed as he interlocks his fingers through yours. 

“‘toru…?” his lips broke into a giddy smile, and you had to control yourself as he swooped back in for a kiss. his eyes were so much softer when he laughed, the kind ones you fell in love with so many nights ago. 

“there it is,” his voice was husky, raw as your fingers gripped at the baby hairs at his nape. he was taking your air away with him and you couldn’t find it in yourself to fight back for it. 

“i forgot how cheeky you can be,” you bite your lip to keep the moans inside, feeling feverish as his tongue ran over his love marks, not knowing what to do yourself as you scrambled to grab onto something to keep you afloat.

“you have no idea how much self-control it’s taken not to ravage you,” his breath is hot on your skin, and he’s tugging at your shirt, fingers slightly brushing upon your breasts, “every night you’d come down for dinner i wanted something different to eat.”

“stoppp,” you mewled, not used to this. he chuckles as his slender fingers work to untie the knot keeping you together, tugging at the string until it falls, revealing your naked chest, heaving as the fabric pooled at your hips. 

you wanted to cover yourself up under his heavy gaze, to take the fabric and hide, but you felt pierced by his stare. his eyes darted to yours as if checking to see if you were okay. when you gave him a timid nod, it seemed as though it prompted him to finally move. 

his fingers were gentle as they ran across your waist, large as they covered the soft of your stomach, eager as they went upwards. he looked like he was crazed and starved, as if you were his last meal and he couldn’t wait for the sweetness death would give. 

your breath stuttered as his fingers found your mounds, rubbing a soothing thumb over your nipples as his pupils grew. he was eager as he flicked them over and over, a cheshire grin growing as they hardened under his touch. 

“you’re perfect,” he murmured, dropping down so he could suckle at your tits, his spit shining in the light of the fire, and you tilted your head back, soft moans escaping as his tongue drew circles around your buds. 

“f-fuck, ‘toru, that’s,” you couldn’t even finish your sentence, his second hand coming to cup your other tit, not wanting to leave her unattended as he sucked and bruised, wanting to forever leave his mark on your untainted skin. 

“good?” he’s so cocky, and you want to smack the smug smirk off his devilishly handsome face. 

his knee is purposefully rubbing against your clothed clit, and you feel yourself subconsciously rubbing yourself against it. you hope that he can’t feel how drenched you are from him just sucking your tits, but he pinches you, pressing his tongue flat against your skin as he looks up through his lashes.

“horny from just me touching you?” he’s teasing you, it’s so painful the way you want, need him like oxygen. you tug on his hair roughly, bringing his spit-soaked lips back to yours as you bite down on his lower one, enjoying the groan you draw out from him. 

“don’t be mean ‘toru,” you taunt, and you feel him melt in your fingers, nodding to your request as he lowers himself down. 

he presses wet kisses down your torso, stopping just above your hips, his fingers hooking along the rim of your underwear, being careful and slow in his movements as he waits for any objections, making sure you’re okay with this. 

but you were in your own world, hitching your leg over his shoulders, drawing him in closer to you, sweat dotting your forehead as he licks a stripe over the cotton on your pussy, smiling to himself at the taste of you. 

you were so sweet, sweeter than any desert he’d indulge himself on. he was sure that once he had a taste of you he’d be able to repent, to go before any god, and to tell them that you were his religion.

he had spent countless nights, tossing and turning in his bed, the only thing putting him to sleep being the idea of coming home to you. running after you that night was him running home to you, regardless of where you were. he was glad he got your hand in marriage, but if he had to, he’d wait another ten years just to hold you in his arms again.

he peels your underwear off, a string of your arousal connecting to it, and he tucks it in his pants, for safekeeping. 

“you’re going to be the death of me.” he says against your heat, his nose rubbing against your clit as your eyes wring shut in pleasure. his hands grip your thighs, making sure you stay in place as he kitten licks around where you need him the most. 

“don’t let…don’t let any of your enemies hear,” your voice comes out in bits, your hand resting on the back of his head as your leg tightens around him, “don’t want them to come after me or something.” 

he snorts, pinching your thighs as if anybody could come within a ten feet radius of you without losing an eye. 

his lips come closer to where you desperately want him, a finger prodding at your tight entrance, his tongue finding your clit as he begins to suck. 

it’s all too much, the sensations far better than your own fingers have ever proved to be. 

his fingers are skilled, long enough that they reach deep within you. he sinks one fully in, your walls clamping around him as he continues sucking your clit, his teeth grazing it every so often, making your head thump against the wall. 

“talk to me, how do you feel?” his mouth discontented from your bud and you whine at the loss. he sinks in another finger to make up for it, but he doesn’t move them, waiting for your response. 

“‘s good,” one of your hands is fisting your discarded robe, trying to hold onto your senses as you desperately nod, “don’t stop ‘toru, please,” and he obliges, loving the sounds of your begging, but loving the sound of your pleasures more. 

his fingers stretch you open and you welcome the sting, your nails digging into him as you long for more. 

he switches his mouth with his hand every now and then, his tongue taking the place of his fingers as it licks at you, groaning at your taste as he eats you out with his entire being, his chin shining with your essence and his spit as his thumb rubs furiously at your clit. 

“mmhhh, just like that, fuck!” you’ve never heard your voice at this pitch, never knew it was possible to feel this way. his other hand reaches up to flick at your nipple, the extra sensation making white dot around your vision. 

you feel yourself getting closer to the sweet release, feel your wall clamp around him even tighter as that knot in your stomach builds to a crescendo. 

“come on, let go f’me, know you want to, know you can.” he spurs you on, his fingers unrelenting as they piston in and out of you, reaching that gummy spot that makes you go dumb.

“fuck, ‘toru, m’gonna, m’gonna come!” you cry out and you’re sure anybody walking past you could hear the debauchery. your thighs were starting to shake and you felt it all go black as you reached your high, your orgasm washing over you unlike anything you’ve ever felt. 

you creamed around his fingers, gushing around him as you wailed out, tears dotting your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure you were feeling. you squeezed around him, wanting to never lose what this felt like, trying to catch your breath as his mouth never stopped sucking at your nub before he was sure your climax was over. 

when he finally pulled away the only thing that could be heard was the two of you, trying to come back down as stupid smiles made their way onto each of your faces. 

he was boyishly charming as he stood in front of you, licking yourself off of his fingers as he grinned at the taste. you couldn’t be bothered to be embarrassed after having him just between your legs, but you still felt a heat blossom in your chest. 

“so…” you awkwardly start, sweat dripping down your face from just how hot the room had suddenly gotten as you avert your gaze, “what now?” 

he shrugged nonchalantly, despite the fact that his heart was about to beat it’s way out of his chest. you let him pick you off of the vanity and tucked you safely away into his chest as he led you to your bed, gently setting you down in your mountain of pillows and blankets as you felt sleep etch away at you. 

“i’m going to clean you up,” he pressed a kiss to your hair, smiling at the way you giddy smiled at whatever he did, a dopey grin on your face as your hand searched for his, interlocking you fingers with his as if you didn’t want to watch him go, “if you let me.” 

you yawn, your head tilting as he sat down at the edge of your bed, still not letting go of your hand as your fingers run through the soft pelts beneath you. 

“and what about you?” your chin points the obvious hard-on growing in his pants. he looks down as if suddenly realizing, and he plays it off by looking back up to you with a wink. you felt your mouth going dry at the size of it, not knowing if you could even be able to take something as big as that. 

“for another day,” he promises, and you’re sure he’s not going to forget it. not like you want him to.

“and then?” 

your question lingers in the air. you don’t want to wake up to him acting like this never happened, as if your feelings were only a figment of your wildest dreams. but his eyes hold onto yours, never letting go as he brushes some strays away from your face. 

“and then i get a bigger bed for my room because there’s no way i’m letting you sleep here alone after this.” his thumb runs along the palm of your hand, his fingers tracing patterns into the soft of your legs. 

“and then?” 

“and then you tell me all the things i missed out on when i was gone. i’ll tell you about the time suguru shaved my head, and you’ll tell me about anything on your mind.” 

“what if i run out of things to say?” sleep is overtaking your voice, and you’re already nodding off, not even truly knowing what you were asking. 

“then i’ll make up stories so that you’re not bored.” he finds a clean towel, soaking it in water from a nearby pitcher as he drags it slowly across your body, as if your fragile and made of porcelain. 

“how do i know you’re not a dream? you might just be,” you yawn, rubbing at your eyes as your finger traces his ring, “you might just be my own mind tricking me.” your eyes are shutting, but the teasing smile on your face never leaves. 

“because a dream wouldn’t hide under a table with you if you asked.” he whispers, kissing your lips with a soft peck as he pulls the blanket over you, letting you sleep into a slumber as he crawls in next to you, holding you to his chest just as he did that night, just as he will every night from now on, and just as he longed for those nights he wished you next to him.

[purinfelix]

you're no good for me, but baby i want you - n. riki ✶⋆.˚

summary: after growing tired of his constant teasing you made up your mind not to give Niki anymore of your attention, but you should've known that he wouldn't let you go that easily - and is willing to go to desperate measures to get you just to look at him ──── delinquent Niki x class president reader || sfw but a little suggestive, kissing/making out, so much tension like so much, enemies to lovers sorta? || w/c: 2.7k

a/n: okay i'm trying to get better at writing longer fics/ones that actually have closure bc looking back i realise i kinda always leave u guys on cliffhangers LOLL - also i rlly tried to avoid making this too cliche given the trope i hope it worked !!! actually really like this one so i hope it doesn't flop rip

‘Bad boy’ felt too cliche - at least for your liking. You preferred to refer to Niki as what he was, a delinquent, a troublemaker, someone who skipped most of his classes and spent the rest dosing off or arguing with the teacher. But no matter what you called him you were sure of one thing, he pissed you off.

To be honest, you had absolutely no interest in the sorts of things a student like him got up to in his own time, but it was the fact that he insisted on dragging you into his business that irritated you the most. You weren’t sure why exactly he kept targeting you, maybe it was because he just wanted to mess with the class president or because you seemed like an easy target to him - whatever reason he had didn’t make it any less tiring though.

Skipping classes was one thing, but his constant breaches of uniform code meant that you were running out of warning slips - and patience. It didn’t help that whenever you did, he would only look you up and down with an amused smirk, brows raised as if daring you to continue telling him off - which only worked to make you stumble over your words.

That’s why you had made the decision to stop giving him anymore of your attention, and the most recent time you had seen him sporting his signature look - no blazer, dress shirt half unbuttoned and several silver earrings, you chose to ignore him. You simply walked past him in the hallway without so much as a passing glance, hoping it would tell him to stop wasting your time and causing trouble.

Little did you know, he would misinterpret your signs to mean the exact opposite.

The next morning when you were waiting at your desk you heard a wave of hushed murmurs coming from down the hall, and couldn’t help but feel partly responsible. A loud thud sent the classroom door flying open and a couple of his friends filed in with amused grins - and it was only when Niki followed them in did you see why. Not only had he gone and messily bleached parts of his jet black hair, but he now donned a piercing straight through his right eyebrow which, judging from the pink tinge surrounding it, was both brand new and self-made.

You were unable to stop your neck from craning as your eyes followed his figure, watching as he sauntered over to his desk in the back corner of the classroom, threw his books onto it and sat down. The expression on his face showed that he couldn’t care less about being there, but his eyes trained on you as if waiting for you to make a move.

You hated that he knew you so well, because before you knew it you were out of your seat and at the head of his desk, arms folded with a stern expression on your face. You can’t remember exactly what you said but it must’ve been harsh, and loud enough to summon the attention of almost the entire class, and your teacher who stormed into the classroom shortly after to tell the two of you off. It must’ve also been harsh enough to earn the two of you an after-school detention, which was your very first - though it clearly wasn’t Niki’s.

So that’s how the two of you had ended up alone, in an empty, hot classroom - waiting as the minutes of your detention ticked by agonisingly slowly. Irritated was an understatement. It was taking every ounce of self-control you had not to turn around and punch Niki right there and then. You kept your fuming to yourself, at least for now though, while you worked silently on an assignment, determined to at least make good use of being stuck here for the next hour or so - even if it meant spending it in a tense silence.

Niki didn’t seem to share the same sentiment, having sat himself in the chair right beside yours and kicked his feet up on the desk, twirling a pen in one hand as he hummed softly to himself. You were trying your best to ignore him, and he was trying his best to make that very difficult.

“What are you working on?” he asked curiously as he leaned in over your shoulder.

“Just an assignment,” you shot back curtly.

“Ah of course, what a goody-two shoes,” he scoffed as he sat back.

“Rather a goody-two shoes than a good-for-nothing delinquent,” you mumbled under your breath, though not quiet enough to escape his ears.

“A delinquent? Is that really what you think of me?” he asked in faux-offence, “I’m hurt.” You turned slightly, just enough to see the dramatic pout he had formed across his lips, his brows curving upwards and his piercing going with it.

“Whatever,” you huff, feeling both irritation and exhaustion rise in you, “it’s your fault we’re here in the first place anyways.”

“Oh yeah, my fault that you started a petty argument.”

“Your fault for dyeing your hair that stupid colour and getting that piece of metal jammed in your face!” You cry out, fully facing him now as you felt your face burning hot, “I mean seriously, all I did was ignore you once, and you go ahead and did something ridiculous like that?” Gesturing to his piercing and new hair, you can’t help but feel even more infuriated at the sight of his smirk which only grew as he watched you from half-lidded eyes.

“What makes you think I did it for you?” He asks teasingly, and you suddenly feel your bravado begin to crumble - he’s right, who are you to assume that?

“Well, I-” you stutter, but he interrupts you.

“Well maybe I did,” he laughs softly, “that depends on whether you like it or not.”

“That is so besides the point, Niki,” you whine, “it’s against uniform policy.”

“Oh c’mon, you think it’s a little cool,” he taunts, and you turn back around in your seat, chewing your bottom lip as you’re determined not to give him a response which you’re sure will only fuel his ego.

You sit in silence for a bit, and you can tell he’s watching you carefully in the way he leans in, keen eyes trained on your expression - almost as if he’s trying to figure out what you’re thinking. But that’s a challenge even you’re struggling with right now.

He’s the one to break the silence again. “I am sorry about getting you a detention though, that wasn’t what I meant to do.” You blink in disbelief because for the very first time, he sounds almost as if he really means what he’s saying.

“Is that an apology?” you say, gasping to show your surprise, though this quickly dissolved into a soft laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t let it get to your head,” he sighs, “I just couldn’t sit here and watch you sulk for the next hour.”

You can’t help but smile to yourself, feeling the tension between the two of you melt away at his apology, just enough for you to want to keep talking to him - even if it means neglecting your homework, for now. Your eyes move over his face, his sharp jaw, his eyebrow piercing glinting under the warm classroom light.

“Did it hurt?”

It’s a stupid question, you know, but it’s the only thing you can think to ask as you fiddle nervously in your seat. If you’re being completely honest, you do think it’s cool, you’ve always thought his piercing were cool - and right now you want nothing more than to reach out and feel them for yourself. But your common sense stops you.

“Well, duh,” he scoffs, sitting back in his seat as his eyes fix on yours, “figured a smart-ass like you would’ve been able to guess that.”

“Just asking,” you grumble defensively, though your curiosity urges you to keep talking. “If it hurt, why’d you do it?”

“Well, you like it, don’t you?” He asks, “that’s all the reason I need.”

You’re tempted to tell him off again, but something about his tone catches you off guard - it’s oddly earnest, and he says it with such a simplicity that makes you really believe that maybe he’s telling the truth and you’re unable to find the resolve to spoil this moment

“Can I feel it?”

He’s almost as shocked by your request as you are, and even as it leaves your mouth you’re unsure entirely why you’re asking it. His eyes widen in a way that you can’t help but find a little cute, even as you’re struggling to process your own thoughts.

“Sure,” he replies, a little too quickly, almost as if he had been waiting for you to ask him that, but can’t believe you actually did. You turn in your chair to face him, your arms coming up awkwardly to bridge the distance between you both but it’s clear you’re still too far.

You’re about to lean forward more in your seat to reach him, until you notice his hand coming down to grip the leg of your chair and it isn’t until you feel yourself moving and hear the faint screech of the legs against the floor that you realise that he’s pulling it - pulling you closer to him.

Once you’re close enough he stops, though his hand doesn’t leave the back of your chair, instead resting there as if trapping you in with him as he leans down as that his face is level with yours. You try not to overthink the way your knees are touching, or how this is your first time seeing him this close and how he’s even better looking up close. Carefully, you bring your hand and pray that he doesn’t notice the way it trembles, as your thumb grazes his thick brow gently. Even though you wish he didn’t, he keeps his eyes open and you can feel the weight of his gaze on you as your fingers close around the small metal ball.

“It’s cold,” you mumble, not sure what else to say to fill the air between you two.

“It’s metal,” he says matter-of-factly, letting out a small laugh at your fascination with it.

“You didn’t need to to do this just to get my attention, you know,” your eyes focus on the piercing as you speak, unable to look him in the eyes when admitting something that feels like a confession.

“I had to get you to look at me somehow.” You’re again amazed at how he can say such earnest things with such a serious face, and even as you look away you know his eyes are on you.

“Most people would’ve just said hi or something, not put a brand new hole in their face,” you sigh, fingers moving to tuck a stray strand of bleached hair behind his ear.

“Well most people wouldn’t be here now with you touching their face, so by my standards my plan worked better.”

“Did that plan have to include getting me my first-ever detention?” You ask in annoyance, though you can’t help but laugh softly at his simplicity.

“Well, not at first,” he admits, “but at least we’re alone, hm?”

“Because you need me alone to talk to me?”

“No, because I need you alone to do this.”

You’re pretty sure if you weren’t already leaning towards him you would’ve fallen backwards from the forceful way his lips crash into yours - and if not from that then the sheer shock of just that. Luckily for you though, he already has an arm snaked around your waist, keeping a hold of you and pulling you closer.

It shocks you though that, despite the initial force, Niki’s kiss is gentle, almost as if he’s easing you into something he knows you’re struggling to accept. He’s experienced, that’s for sure, but you can tell in his movements that he’s holding back from pushing you any further.

You don’t even realise it but your hands are cupping his face, caressing his strong jawline and pulling him closer to you. You open your mouth to talk but the only noise that comes out is a breathy gasp and if you weren’t so caught up in the feeling of his hands in your hair you might’ve stopped to feel embarrassed about how desperate you sound for him right now.

“Niki,” you mumble against his lips, unsure of what to do as you feel your mind struggle to comprehend what’s happening.

“Want me to stop?” he says in between heavy breaths, and even though it sounds like a taunt you know him well enough to know he’s being serious.

You shake your head in response, but decide to have a little fun of your own while you can. “When have you ever cared what I want?”

“Oh, you have no clue,” he hums in a low whisper as he leans back in.

“And when have you ever listened to what I’ve told you to do?”

“You’re right about that,” he smirks, pressing his lips to yours again, this time with the reckless abandon you’ve come to expect from him - almost as if he was waiting for your permission to let go. You thought you would’ve felt a little predictable, pathetic even, for having fallen so easily into his trap and giving him much more than just your attention at this point. But from the way his hands roam your body, grasping for more of you as he whines against your lips you smile to yourself at the realisation that really, he’s the one who’s fallen into your trap.

This sense of control is what finally calms your mind, even if it still struggles with just how ‘wrong’ all of this sounds against how right his lips on yours feel. The sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway however forces you to tear yourself away from him, though his hands don’t leave your body as you strain to figure out who it might be.

“Shit, it’s the teacher,” you say under your breath, pulling away from him to smooth down your skirt. Niki clearly doesn’t care, but still lets out a soft sigh as he hangs his head, leaning back in his chair.

“Tomorrow,” you continue suddenly, “I want the eyebrow piercing and the bleached hair gone.” You know you’re being harsh, but you also know that, given what just happened, you can’t afford to be nice.

“Wh-” he says suddenly, looking at you in disbelief, “I thought you liked them though.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you say firmly, “they’re still breaking like ten different uniform rules.”

“Just when I thought I’d finally broken your guard down,” he groans.

“Well, they’ve served their purpose already, haven’t they?” you taunt lightly, bringing a hand up to swipe at your bottom lip which you can feel is a little plump from him biting it. His eyes watch attentively as you do, and he lets out a soft laugh followed by a nod in agreement.

“You’re right,” he exhales, “but now I’m thinking if I keep them in I might keep getting lucky.”

“Niki,” you sigh.

“I mean, maybe if I had a reward for following rules I might feel more motivated,” he hums, looking away as he feigns innocence.

You pause, thinking to yourself for just long enough. “I’ll be studying in the library after school, maybe if you do as I say I’ll let you join me.”

“Studying? That’s what we’re calling it now?”

“Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll be there,” he laughs, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smile - one that you can’t help but share even as the same teacher who gave you both this detention comes in to tell you you’re free to go.

You watch as he swings his bag over one shoulder coolly, tossing you his signature smirk - only this time, it doesn’t just annoy you, it lingers, sticking to your thoughts in a way you don’t want to admit. Because you know you should be mad, you should roll your eyes and remind yourself that he’s still the same infuriating troublemaker. But as he walks away the only thing you find yourself wondering is if he’ll actually show up tomorrow, and worse, if a part of you wants him to.

[bitchimasnake-sss]

☆ trophy wife!

synopsis: you and oliver aiku were married — had been for what felt like ages now. everyone knew it: the media, his fans, his teammates — everyone. but what they didn't know was that... it was a marriage of convenience and that you were nothing more than a trophy wife. but then, why — after three years of ignoring you — was oliver aiku backing you into the wall and telling you he needed you? pairing: afab!reader x oliver aiku [aged up.] wc: 5.7k cw: NOT PROOFREAD. dual pov. loads of mutual pining. idiots to lovers pairing. both of them are pretty pathetic, i swear. marriage of convenience trope. i'll write smut if anyone wants it mwuah mwuah. m.list

.࣪ ִֶ☾. part 01: through her eyes.

30th of june, 2:33 a.m. incident: AITA for freaking out when my husband tried to kiss me on his birthday?

you were well-prepared. you knew what was to come. there was absolutely nothing that could throw you off - other than this.

"a-aiku..?" your breath hitched, eyes widening as the man backed you into the same room you both has chastely slept in for the past 3 years.

the lights were off, the city right outside your window was buzzing, and you swore you felt like you were losing you mind as aiku drew out his long steps towards you.

thump! the back of your knees made contact with the wooden frame of the bed.

having nowhere to hide anymore, you stared at him — all but going insane, "hey."

"need you."

"aiku, listen—" you tried again, words laden with apprehension, eyes jittery as if one look away from him and he'd disappear, "you're drunk."

"no." his heterochrome eyes fell to your red-hued face, and he brought up a thumb up to swipe up at your bottom lip. as the tip of his finger made contact with the soft pout, he almost hissed, "'m not."

"you are." you repeated, deflecting his hand with a careful hit, "you're drunk."

but the man persisted, annoyingly again bringing up his hand up to your cheek and planting it there. his voice was soft, the question so innocent, "so what?"

"you'd—" your eyes met his, lips wobbling as he bent towards you all so greedily slow, "you'd regret... this."

"so what?"

so... what?

how could he ask you that knowing very well that he was breaking rule number 04 of your agreement?

━━━━━━━☆⭒⭒☆━

three years ago, you and your husband spent your entire wedding night setting down rules.

you clad in a white dress that had wrinkled by the time the filtered sunlight had streamed through your window, and him in an expensive suit he didn't give a shit about — his heterochrome eyes had met yours in a careful dance.

"i know you didn't want this. me neither." your legal husband sighed, a broad hand sifting through his dual toned hair as regret interwove into his low decibles, "and i know i cannot make it any better but—"

he sled the piece of paper that you both had spent hours perfecting towards you. the white sheet against the mahogany table, such a striking contrast — and, there was fine-print with two blanks for yours and his signs at the very bottom.

"so this is... final?" dragging the sheet towards yourself with your index, your gaze ran across the rules that you both had thought would make this 'marriage' thing work.

"hm." he nodded, "technically, this is a legally binding document."

your eyes shifted over the words, taking in the phrases you were to consider your holy commands from now on.

there were four simple rules, to be specific:

1. don't interfere in each other's sex lives. 2. don't get caught up in any scandals. be careful. have affairs in private. 3. pretend to be the most perfect couple on camera. no matter what it takes — lies, pr, more lies. whatever. 4. kiss, kiss, don't fall in love!

your brows knitted together, a frown across your painted lips as you read the sheet again and again, and then, once more for good measure. "you want me to be nothing more than a trophy wife, right..?"

"yes," the ex-captain huffed, looking from you to the sheet he had co-authored, "and i promise to be nothing more than your legal husband."

"I'll do my part, you do yours." oliver gave you a re-assuring smile, the kind that made your stomach coil inwards at it's polite implications, "and none of us fall in love with the other."

hopefully.

━━━━━━━☆⭒⭒☆━

being the only daughter of a high-ranking national sports committee member, the starstruck fans and fame-hungry reporters had chalked up your and aiku's pairing to the fates.

"the pro-player and the daughter of the sports committee member," they had discussed in loud whispers, "no wonder they're getting married. so romantic!"

"he was such a womanizer before he met her, you know? who knows what he's like now? probably the same." one school-girl probably had scoffed on the subway, and another had retorted, "that's because it's true love, idiot. people change for love."

"how did they never get caught, though?" others had asked, "it's like their marriage came out of the blue. but well, i guess — when it's fate, then, it's fate!"

well, what they all didn't know was that 'fate' was your father and aiku signing a bunch of paperwork in an office a few days before your wedding ceremony, binding you both to this twisted relationship. not so romantic now, is it?

but eitherways, both of you did your part diligently — that's how this had worked out for so long. this arrangement had worked more than well enough for the past three years.

during his matches, you were dressed in his jersey, his number, cheering his — no, yours — family name as loud as you could. after the same match, aiku would come running upto you and hug you till you felt his tensed muscle slacken against yours like he wanted to hug you. you didn't quite miss the way he whispered against you, "sorry for making you do this, ma."

in the interviews afterwards, he would call you his lucky charm. he would laugh, the sweat beads trailing down the planes of his handsome, perspired face, "what can i say? it's probably my girl that makes my game."

'his' girl? right.

when on a pre-planned date night, he would catch your smaller palms in his, and hover his lips over your skin — fooling the world into believing his lips ever touched yours. next morning, you'd find your faces plastered in the morning tabloids.

oliver aiku was such a good actor, it was sickening.

during every red carpet, you and him were dressed in complimentary suits and dresses, smiling up at each other as if you weren't stuck in whatever the fuck this relationship was.

and when the interviewers would ask him one fine evening, "mr. oliver, you're presenting the award this time, we've heard."

"hah, yes but have you seen my wife yet?" he would gush expertly — somehow even turning his nose and ear tips appear red on command, a pro liar. "i am afraid i wouldn't be able to remember my lines on the stage if i look at her."

and you would look on from the side-line, amazed, because how could that man lie so easily? lie to everyone — the media, his friends, to himself? how could this man tell the cameras you were the very thing he adored, and then go home just to fall asleep after a simple goodnight?

most importantly, how could you ever trust such a big liar? a liar who could even make you believe for a fleeting second that he loved you (even though, according to rule number #4, that was prohibited.)

how, oh how, did oliver aiku make you feel so utterly stupid? how did he even fool you into thinking he may love you?

━━━━━━━☆⭒⭒☆━

3rd of december, 1:06 a.m. incident: my husband comes back from a long night.

"aiku..?" a soft sigh of his name tumbled past your lips, your eyes narrowing at the figure standing at your shared bedroom door in the middle of the night.

it was one in the morning, and you were sure under that once-crisp linen shirt lay foreign lipstick stains and faint whispers of feminine perfume. it was normal — this was normal — your husband getting home late at night after being with another woman. this was normal. and according to rule number 01, you weren't supposed to care about it.

and yet, your mouth grew drier as the same husband walked into the room in the dark — agile footing easily navigating through the learned pathways.

"aiku?" you tried again, this time a bit louder as you sat up on your shared bed. the fabric shifted under your hips, your eyes trying to trace out his outline in the comfortable darkness.

at the sudden sound, the man jumped. flicking on a light with a quick click of his finger, he stared at you all wide-eyed, "you're still up..?"

you nodded and the man cocked an eyebrow, nimble fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt, "why so late?"

well, who was supposed to tell aiku that it was the third anniversary of your 'marriage' — or rather, the contract? who was supposed to tell him that you had stupidly cooked a meal and thought you two could celebrate this utterly dogshit arrangement of yours? who was supposed to tell him? definitely not you.

after all — according to rule number 03 — you didn't need to behave like the perfect wife when the cameras weren't rolling. and according to rule number 04 — no falling in love.

so instead, you pressed your lips into a thin line, "jus' couldn't sleep." forcing your lips into a smile, you asked, "you were out late. had fun tonight..?"

aiku shrugged, "eh, nothing special."

and despite rule number 01 still in effect, you bit out a meek, "jessica?"

you had heard the name slip past his lips once late night and immediately associated the name with a beautiful, striking woman — a woman aiku could possibly love. not you.

"nah..." aiku hesitated for just a second, and some selfish part within you wondered if he was about to lie just to keep your heart. if he was about to say 'i saw nobody' just to make you feel like you meant something to him — but the man crushed whatever hope you had under his boot, turning it to ash and soot. "it was crystal, actually."

crystal..?

pulling his closet door open, he didn't even bother turning to look at you, "'m gonna shower and then sleep, kay? you should go to bed."

crystal...?

"yeah, right." at his casual demeanour, at his absolute nonchalance at whichever woman he was currently seeing — you brought your knees up to your chest, a disgusting pang in your ribcage that traveled down your spine and to your toes, "well, i made some pasta if you're hungry."

"oh?" shimmying off his shirt, you watched your husband flex his well-trained muscles involuntarily as he searched for another shirt in his closet, "you cooked? something special tonight, ma?"

"no."

aiku glanced back, the muscles in his shoulders shifting at the action, his eyes narrowing just a little bit, "sure?"

"mhm." you nodded, trying to take your position back on your usual side of the bed, "anyways, eat up if you get hungry. i'm... off to bed. goodnight."

"g'nite."

this was normal.

and according to the rules you both had set, oliver wasn't breaking any. then, why did you have that death grip on your sheets as you heard him close the door to the shower? why did you still cling onto the name 'crystal' like it was your very last thought before death?

23rd of december, 6:54 p.m. incident: my husband's busy (again.)

"'m not sure if green is my colour." you confessed as you gawked up your own reflection in the humongous fitting room.

"oh no! you worry too much, madam." the manager of the clothing studio grinned, fanning a hand at you as if it would make your worries disappear, "you look phenomenal!"

still looking at your reflection in the mirror, your brain tried to scramble helplessly for any excuse for you to not go to the charity ball tomorrow. flimsily searching for your salvation, your eyes drifted to the man seated on the sofa behind you — busy sifting through his phone, unbothered to your very presence.

he didn't care for you — he never did — but maybe, he could validate that green wasn't your colour. maybe he could give you an excuse to not go to that charity ball... because it hurt to see your husband pretend he loved you in front of the cameras, it hurt to know that he could love you that way if he wanted to and he just didn't want you.

biting down whatever traces of self-esteem left within your system, you called out for him, "does this look... okay?"

at the mention of his name, he lifted his gaze from his phone to you. taking in your figure once, twice — he nodded satisfied, "yeah, you look good, ma. don't worry."

a soft ping! of his notifications drew his gaze back to his phone screen. your fist tightened, nails digging into the soft skin as you went back to being ignored. there goes your excuse to skip tomorrow night.

it would always be some event — a charity ball, a reunion, a sports meet, a fucking conference or whatever — and you had to doll up just to smile up at him. it didn't matter if you didn't feel like going, or if it was a pain, or if that shade of green didn't go well on you.

it didn't matter, as stated by rule number 03.

"—and not to mention that green is really mr. oliver's colour." the same manager prattled on, cashmere words as she tried to persuade you.

your eyes still bore against the man as if the staring at him would be enough for him to understand your grievances and bail you out from this hell. but ofcourse, oliver aiku was only the perfect husband on camera.

the woman concluded with a well-practiced, corporate smile, "—and you both have to match, right?"

ofcourse, you both had to fucking match — courtesy of rule number 03 yet again.

even after moments of heating staring, your husband was more busy on his phone than you.

"i guess if he likes it." you finally shrugged, losing your resolve to the 2v1 match going on in the fitting room right now, "we'd take this, then."

"wonderful choice, madam!" and with that the woman clapped, happily guiding you to a private room so that you could take the dress off.

as you followed her, you looked back at oliver once more — as if you'd catch him staring or something equivalently stupid. instead, the man stayed engrossed on his phone — furiously typing.

probably texting jessica, or crystal, or whoever was interesting enough for oliver aiku to fuck into rented hotel sheets — whoever it was that wasn't you.

9th of january, 7.23 p.m. incident: WAG duties.

here you were, sitting in the same spot in the VIP seating area as you had for three years.

his jersey number proudly flashing on your back, you brought your hands up to your mouth to cheer and clap as oliver defended yet another goal, "go, baby! you're doing so well!"

you knew the camera was on you — it was half of the time. the audience ate up every crumb of your relationship online. so, you just smiled, clapping proudly.

honestly, it wasn't hard to fake the genuine enthusiasm every time he skillfully stole the ball from the opposing team — you were proud of him. after all, three years of being someone's greatest supporter eventually becomes a habit, not a chore.

"didn't you get super lucky with oliver?" someone next to you mumbled.

snapping your head towards the sound of the voice, you saw a pretty redhead — oh, chigiri hyoma's sister.

you frequently ran into the woman on and off the field, and had struck up some semblance of friendship with her.

"hah, nice seeing you here, koyuki." you hoped that the laugh didn't sound as strained as if felt in the back of your throat. chasing the pathetic laugh with a practiced smile, "sure did get lucky, but why do you ask?"

"ah, nothing." the redhead grinned, a teasing lilt to her carefree voice, "just that it's been three years and aiku still tries to catch a glimpse of you whenever he defends. if that isn't love, i don't know what is."

love? love?? LOVE???

"oh?" eyebrows bunching together, perhaps you were taken aback with what a good actor oliver was. you were always so caught up in giving the right reactions for the camera, that maybe you didn't see how well he played his side of the loverman role.

but even as koyuki pointed it out, you were too hesitant to actually check for yourself. what if she was wrong? what if you actually saw him looking at you? what if you fell for the elaborate act like a fool yet again..?

so, still focused on the woman in front of you, you spluttered out a pathetic script, "i mea—mean, yeah he just absolutely spoils me."

"i can see that." the woman laughed, "but you're always there to support him too, so I'm sure you spoil him back just as much."

"m-yeah..?"

you spoiled him? no, obviously not. because that wasn't mentioned in any of the rules, was it?

at the stutter in your words, koyuki jutted her bottom lip out, a sorry expression on her face, "oh come on now, don't give all the credit for your marriage to aiku. it takes two to make it work."

"hah," you nodded, coughing up yet another laugh to mask your half-baked lies, "yeah, i guess it does—"

"—i just really, really hope," the redhead cut you off, clasping her nimble fingers together, "that someday I can find a love as adorable as yours."

and at her words, you couldn't help the slight waver in your smile, couldn't help as your eyes drained themselves of any tangible emotion, "o-of course, you will. don't you worry."

"a love as pure as yours"? funny. cause you were yet to find that kind of love three years down the line.

━━━━━━━☆⭒⭒☆━

࣪ ִֶָ☾. part 02: through his eyes.

3rd of december, 1:03 a.m. incident: shit, my wife's still up.

oliver aiku had made the genius decision to avoid you the entire day before, even going out of his way to make sure he didn't step inside your shared apartment before the clock struck twelve.

a simple man may question his actions and ask 'why?' and the answer was as simple as it came: oliver aiku knew it was your — technically, his too — anniversary.

oliver had woken up by the reminder on his phone that read "anniversary.", he had driven and got you a bouquet of flowers, he had even contemplated asking you out for dinner. and then, he had chickened the fuck out. oliver aiku had chickened out for the third time in the row.

see, the first year, he avoided doing anything because it was the first year. the next year, it felt even more awkward cause he hadn't even wished you on the first anniversary so why on the second? he had planned for the third, and that... also went to shit.

truth be told, oliver didn't want to seem like the fool who was holding onto a fake relationship by remembering or bringing up pointless things like this. cause that was just pathetic, right?

so, of course, he did the smartest thing a man could do — avoided you like you were the fucking plague. even if it meant sitting the entire night away in his car and waiting for the perfect time to return back home.

"aiku?" at your sudden chirp, oliver almost felt a wayward shiver run down his spine. flipping on the switch with a practiced flick, he found you sitting up in your shared bed, "you're still... up?"

and though oliver knew there was no way you knew he had been waiting in his car, his heart genuinely caught up a wicked pace. trying to distract himself — and perhaps, you — he undid the buttons of his shirt, "why so late?"

as you gave him a smile, the man knew something was off. shit.

you spoke so softly, looking so beautiful even in the absolute middle of the night, "jus' couldn't sleep... you were out late, have fun tonight?"

"eh," aiku tried his best to appear nonchalant, trying to be truthful amid the chaos of his mind, "nothing special."

he hoped, he stupidly hoped that you'd say goodnight and go to sleep. instead, you further enquired, "jessica?"

and despite being a sharp man who could lie to god while looking in his eyes, aiku turned his back to you — scared he may fumble in front of you that he hadn't seen another woman for the past three years. he started softly, "nah..."

opening the door to his closet, he tried to think of another name — any name. oh, what was that thing sendou was talking about a few days ago? crystal chandeliers? crystal? cry—

"—stal, actually." the pro-player lied through his teeth. rummaging through his closet, he tried to distract you, "'m gonna shower and then sleep, kay? you should go to bed."

"yeah, right." and oliver aiku almost confessed all his sins just at that 'right'. but instead of further grilling him, you just said, "well, i made some pasta if you're hungry."

"oh?" peeling the familiar shirt off of his body, for a moment, the man believed that you knew what yesterday was. but how could you? you had never been more than what he had asked of you — you had never been more than a contract, a trophy wife.

eitherways, he asked — to confirm. "you cooked? something special tonight, ma?"

but your answer was swift. a straight, sweet blow: "no."

and despite the answer, oliver allowed himself to glance back just this once, "sure?"

"mhm. anyways, eat up if you feel hungry." you nodded, shifting to go to sleep, "I'm off to bed. goodnight."

oliver turned his face back to the closet door, mumbling out, "g'nite."

as the man closed the door to the shower, he clenched his fist and unclenched it. what was he even so frustrated about? he had set the rules with you, didn't he? and you weren't breaking any of them.

you were the most perfect trophy wife, after all, weren't you?

23rd of december, 6:54 p.m. incident: my wife's dad sucks.

oliver aiku was sure he could rip his hair out right now.

aiku: listen, she has nothing to do with it. aiku: i said i don't feel like taking her to the charity ball. dad 2: Why not? Did she say she doesn't wanna go? aiku: for the last time, i said i don't wanna take her. dad 2: Did she do something to trouble you Mr. Oliver?

jesus fucking christ. oliver aiku could really rip his hair out right now.

as dense as he'd like to believe he was as behaving like an actual husband, aiku could still see that you truly did not want to go to that stupid charity ball. the entire ride to the fitting, you had been sitting far too still in your seat — asking him questions like, "is it important for me to go?"

you never asked for anything from him.

each game, you showed up. each event, you dressed to the nines and put on that painfully pretty yet fake smile. each day, you put up with him. and however bad of a husband aiku may be, he didn't want to discomfort his own wife for the sake of some stupid rule, or the sake of that old man who happened to be your dad.

you distant voice kissed his ears, "'m not sure if this shade of green is my colour."

your statement was followed by some candied prattle by the saleswoman, but aiku was too busy re-reading your father's heinous texts to actually look up and check for himself.

dad 2: If she has inconvenienced you in any such way, please let me know.

"—aiku?" and the soft sigh of his name past your heavenly lips, oliver's gaze immediately shot up. you met his eyes in the reflection of the mirror, "does this look okay?"

'okay'? you were beautiful beyond words.

hair hastily tied up, makeup not yet glam enough, dress not fitted to your measurements, only held up by clips — and yet, aiku almost lost his breath when looking at you.

thumb still hovering over the virtual keyboard, he took in your figure once, twice and nodded — all but dazed, "yeah, you look good, ma. don't worry."

he was about to say something more when another stupid ping! brought his attention back to his phone.

dad 2: Or you can reprimand her yourself, if you'd like. We have no objections to it.

'reprimand'?? what the actual fuck did that old geezer mean by that?

aiku felt his fingers gliding furiously across the keyboard, words nothing if not laced with the absolute venom in his system — because nobody talked about his wife like that.

aiku: listen here. aiku: i don't need your input on how to treat my own fucking wife. so, if i hear one more word out of you, just know that i will make you regret it. aiku: that's all. take care, dad.

aiku shut his phone, tearing his gaze away from the screen to where you were standing only to find you already gone.

he was late, like always.

9th of january, 7.23 p.m. incident: scatterbrained on the field.

oliver aiku knew nothing more than the adrenaline rushing through his veins, the blood that roared in his eardrum, the thoughts that bolted through his brain, the overhead lightings that blinded him when he jumped up to defend the incoming attack — oliver aiku knew nothing more than the ball and the field in front of him.

atleast that's what he had always felt when he played. keyword: had.

but lately, his brain was scattered — thoughts a jumbled incoherent tune that only sung to rhythms of your name. every time he closed his eyes, every strained breath, every involuntary flex of his muscles — you were there. you were there in the very fiber of his being.

so, ofcourse, when he defended yet another goal and the ball was expertly deflected off-field, he didn't care about the cheers of his name, didn't care about the teammates that whooped and ran to their spots, didn't care about anyone or anything that wasn't you.

lifting his gaze straight at the VIP box, his eyes frantically searched for you. and there you were — wearing the jersey that he had brought for you, smiling so wide as you clapped and aiku swore for a second, he froze.

no, ofcourse, his body kept moving — muscled thighs sprinting across the field like it was second-nature and eyes scanning for constant threats, oliver aiku was still in the game physically. but mentally? my god, weren't you the prettiest thing he had laid his eyes on?

stealing scarce glances away from the soccer ball, the man found you talking to a familiar redhead. you laughed at something she said, and oliver felt a feverish pang run it's course through his chest. did you ever smile at him like that? or at all, for that matter? did he—

"—AIKU. WHERE'S YOUR FUCKING FOCUS?" his teammate yelled, and the ex-captain's gaze tore back into the field instantly. his teammate ran across the field, chasing the opposing team as they brought the ball into oliver's side of the court, "AIKU, DEFEND. FOCUS."

focus..? focus?? what was that?

because even as the man shielded the defense line with his hulking body and fast-paced thoughts, he couldn't help but steal a glance at your still-conversing self.

what was a fucking match when compared to his wife, anyways?

30th of june, 2.23 a.m. incident: AITA for kissing my wife on my birthday?

oliver aiku was about to lie through his fucking teeth, and it was about to be as pathetic as he could get. but fuck it, how many more years of heartache should he have to endure without giving it a shot?

"a-aiku..?" your voice was so soft, that aiku couldn't help but walk onwards, backing you into the room even despite his clenched fist and trembling calves.

a soft thump! indicated the back of your legs hitting the bed — or wait, was that the sound of his heart dropping into his stomach..?

another soft hiss past your lips, "hey..?"

"need you."

frankly, aiku himself didn't know what the fuck he was on about. thank god, you cut him off.

"—aiku, listen." your eyes were frenzied, and aiku swore he saw your gulping harshly in the darkness, "you're drunk."

he was not... but he was pretending.

oliver aiku had come up with the most perfect plan. he would pretend to be drunk on his birthday and kiss you. if you slapped him, or threatened to divorce him, he could always blame the alcohol.

"no." he purposefully slurred, using his hazed state to bring up a careful thumb to your bottom lip. under his soft swipe, your lips wobbled and aiku felt his knees almost give up whole. keeping up the act, he pathetically worded, "'m not."

"you are." you pushed his hand away and aiku found himself yearning for your touch — even if was to push him away. you repeated, "you're drunk."

you sounded so scared, and aiku almost forgot his well-rehearsed script. as he stared at you, he started considering that perhaps this wasn't the smartest of ideas. but well, he didn't come this far to only come this far, so, instead he brought up the hand to your cheeks daringly.

you didn't slap his hand away, or flinch. so, he softly planted his calloused hand against your soft cheek and bet his sanity on a losing match, "so what?"

okay... maybe he did come this far only to come this far.

"you'd—" your words fell down in sordid syllables, and he took the soft parting of your lips as an invitation to bend forward. your eyes widened at his action but fuck it. here goes nothing. yolo or whatever. "you'd regret... this."

"so what?"

and he truly meant it. if kissing you once meant he would have to give up his sanity — oliver aiku was ready to trade. he was ready to go ahead and trade everything unholy and sinful he was for you. he was ready.

drawing closer, your warm breath fanned against his face and the man couldn't hold back physically. bringing up another hand to your waist, kneading the skin under the luxurious silk dress you had wore for his party, the man delved in to devour you.

his lips against yours in a lewd dance, and oliver almost fucking gasped from how sweet you were. despite dreaming on and on about this exact scene, he could have never assumed how fucking sweet you'd be. how he'd be able to taste the flavour of your gloss, how he'd be able to sync up his ragged breathing to yours, and how instead of pushing him or kicking him in the family jewels — you'd kiss back.

࣪ ִֶָ☾. part 03: through their eyes.

wrapping your shaking hands around oliver's neck, you found yourself pressing your body against his muscled ones. tongue against his, eyes clenched shut at the taste of whiskey in your mouth and his large palm on your skin.

the man pressed against you harder, his body heat almost setting you ablaze — and you let him, pressing against him with just as much fervour.

"a-aiku..." your serrated words got lodged in the back of your throat as the man kissed down your jaw— his actions so primal, unrelenting. you gasped at the soft nip of his teeth against the column of your throat — the action so dangerously intimate. straining, you repeated his name, "aiku...?"

"keep sayin' my name." his heterochrome eyes flicked up to yours, and the man lost all cognitive senses to come back and kiss you on the lips again. his actions were rough — depraved. and even when his lungs ached for oxygen, he used up the last in his body to utter out, "say my name."

"mmph— aiku..!" your kiss-bitten lips against his, the strings of saliva between you two. you repeated, chanting the word like a mantra, "aiku, aiku, a-aiku—"

"—fuck." his broad palm pulled up your dress, bunching up the fabric at your waist to expose your naked thigh.

what was happening? all you could feel and touch and know happened to be oliver aiku.

were you actually kissing him? was he actually kissing you? or was this another stupid plan of his... were there paps to catch this and post about it tomorrow?

at the absurd thought, you pushed him away.

the man looked far-gone. his pupils blown wide, cherry-red lips swollen, and spit drabbling down his jaw — in fact, oliver looked at you as if you had committed blasphemy. his words wobbled, "w-what?"

"why are you kissing me?" and you're sure you meant it genuinely, but the words came out so horrified. wiping your lips frantically, your unsteady gaze scanned the room, "why...? i-is there someone in the room?"

"huh?!" oliver's jaw slacked open at your question. were you drunk? he spluttered, "what..?"

"why are y-you... kissing me, aiku?" you asked, words tattered and confidence lost, "have you lost your mind?"

"i—" he stepped back, horrified he may have done something wrong. his tongue felt thick in his mouth, voice uneven, "di-should i not have kissed you?"

"the rules." your eyes widened, "we... you're not supposed to kiss me."

"but i just did."

"that's what i'm asking," your voice shot up a note, gaze growing hazy at the implications of him toying with your heart yet again, "why did you?"

"we are married." and you swore, you heard the tiniest twinge of disappointment woven into his fact-like statement.

"we are pretending to be married." you bit back, eyes clenching shut at his flimsy excuse.

"s-still married."

"still pretending." your eyes shot opened, the whites now tinted red, you spit, "i'm just your trophy wife, right?"

and at the phrase, aiku sifted his palms through his already tousled hair. eyes frantic, words maddened, "what... what if i don't want that anymore? what if i-i... want you."

what? how drunk was he?

"i want you." he repeated, and you couldn't decide whether the phrase was a curse or a blessing. he stepped closer, if that was even physically possible — hysterical, "i want you."

he wanted... you?

the same man that had ignored you for the past three year wanted you?

a/n: my fucking god, I LOVEEEE pathetic men hahaha. no smut in this one guys cause i was too consumed writing the mutual pining. tagging: @heartbingers @moodswing101 @isabellalovesyou @adollsdarkdiary [just tagging the people on my last oliver post.]