#and then he thought he was in his Lover era

[brightlight-dazzlingeyes]

sympathy for the devil | ruben dias

🩸 synopsis: You've been working at your childhood dream club, Manchester United, for a few years, but the reality of chaos, mess, and constant changes is taking its toll. Lately, you’ve been finding comfort in an unexpected place – Rúben Dias, a player from your club's biggest rival. tags: established situationship, rivals-to-lovers, mention of smoking, sports drama, arguing, mutual pining. (written in 2nd person but no mention of yn) (around 3.3k words)

part 1

You slip out of the locker room the moment you can, making a shitty excuse. No one questions you – they’re all too wrapped up in the post-match high, riding the wave of a rare, dominant performance. You should be celebrating, but instead, there’s this sense of dread clawing at your gut.

You’ve been here a few years, but it feels like you’ve lived a lifetime of disappointment, false promises, and crushed hopes.

How many times can you start over before it breaks you?

You step outside, the heavy stadium door swinging shut behind you with a dull thud. It’s cold – November in Manchester always is – but you barely feel the chill as you fish a crumpled pack of cigarettes from your coat pocket. Your hands are shaking a little, either from the leftover adrenaline of the match or the exhaustion that’s been creeping in at the edges of your thoughts for months.

Your lighter flares, a small circle of warmth in the dark, and you inhale deeply, the nicotine sharp and bitter on your tongue. It doesn’t really calm you, but it’s something to do. A familiar habit, a routine that hasn’t changed even when everything else has. You lean back against the rough brick wall, your shoulders sagging, and close your eyes.

They’re all talking about him – the new guy. The Portuguese manager who’s exactly what the board thinks they need to clean up the mess. You’ve seen this cycle before. Another savior, another man with a plan. You’ve learned not to get too attached, not to trust the optimism that comes with each “new era.” You’re tired of being yanked along, like a hamster on a wheel, running in circles while everything around you stays the same.

You take another drag, feeling the smoke burn in your throat. It’s all physiological, you tell yourself. The anxiety, the repetition. It’s just your mind playing tricks on you. But it doesn’t change the fact that this new manager freaks you out. You’re not even sure why, maybe it’s because you know how these things go, or maybe it’s because there’s a chance you won’t even make it to the end of the season with your job intact.

High chances you won’t, if he decides to only work with his own people. Your role’s not exactly critical, and even if you’ve been here for years, that doesn’t make you untouchable. You’ve worked hard, you’ve kept your head down, you’ve given everything you had to this club, but it might not be enough. It never seems to be enough.

You flick ash off the cigarette, eyes unfocused as you stare out over the parking lot, empty except for a few scattered cars. Somewhere deep inside, there’s a tiny bit of relief at the win, but it’s buried under layers of exhaustion and anxiety.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, but you ignore it. It’s probably Ruben, your Ruben, the one you should have nothing to do with. You’ll deal with that later. Right now, all you want is five more minutes of peace before you have to go back in, put on a smile, and pretend like you’re ready for whatever comes next.

Because Monday’s coming fast, and you know what that means – another fresh start. Another clean slate. Another spin on the wheel.

You stub out your cigarette on the concrete and crush the butt beneath your heel, exhaling one last cloud of smoke.

part 2

You show up at his place later than planned, you told yourself you wouldn’t let work bleed into this, but it’s impossible not to carry it with you. You know you’re dragging that weight into Ruben’s apartment the moment you cross the threshold.

You toss your bag next to the door and kick off your shoes, feeling the tension in your muscles. The sight of him, the comfort of his place – it should feel like a break from the chaos, but tonight it doesn’t.

You exchange a quick greeting, the kind that’s little more than habit by now, and settle next to him on the couch. It’s not awkward exactly, but there’s a distance between you tonight. He looks tired – more tired than you’ve seen him in a long time. 

“Hey,” you say, nudging his knee with yours, trying to draw out something, anything. “How’s the leg?”

He shrugs, not taking his eyes off his phone. “Better,” he says. “Physio says I’ll be fine in a couple weeks.”

That’s all you get. No sarcastic comment, no playful complaint about how much he hates sitting out. He just goes back to scrolling, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You were expecting him to be in a mood – City’s been struggling lately, and the timing of his injury couldn’t be worse. But still, it’s strange, the way he’s shut down. You fall back into the cushions and pull out your own phone, scrolling through Instagram.

When this started a year ago, it was never like this – there was no room for awkward silence or distractions. It was just heat and hands, tearing at each other like you couldn’t get enough. Now, there’s a lot more of this – just spending time together, filling the quiet with the small, mundane things.

Most of the time, you don’t mind. Most of the time, it’s kind of nice, this understanding you’ve built. But tonight, you feel like the air’s too thick, and it’s bothering you. You scroll aimlessly, barely paying attention to what you’re seeing, and it’s only when you hear the soft thud of his phone dropping onto the couch that you look up.

He’s staring at you, his brows drawn together in frustration, like he’s been holding back for as long as he can. “Have you been smoking again?” he asks suddenly, and the question catches you off guard.

Your stomach twists, but you keep your expression blank, fingers still moving on the screen as if you didn’t hear him. “And what does that have to do with you?” you ask, voice flat and dismissive, not even bothering to look up.

It’s a low blow, and you know it. But you’re not in the mood to be called out, not by him, not tonight. He’s watching you from the other side of the couch, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed in that way that tells you he’s annoyed but trying to keep a lid on it. You don’t bite. Instead, you scroll past another filtered photo of someone’s perfect life.

“What does it have to do with me?” he echoes, his voice low and tense. “Maybe because you said you were done with that. Maybe because it’s not good for you.”

You still don’t look up. It’s not that you don’t care; part of you does. He just doesn’t get it. Nobody does. The exhaustion, the stress of working at a club that feels like it’s constantly collapsing in on itself. It’s just a cigarette. It’s not like it’s going to fix anything, but it’s something. One small moment of control when everything else is spiraling.

��Yeah, well,” you mutter, tapping aimlessly through stories you don’t even care about, “things change.”

He sighs, and you hear the frustration in that exhale with the way it rushes out of him. He shifts on the couch, one knee pressing into the cushion, body leaning closer. “You’re just going to ignore me?”

You finally look up, locking eyes with him, and it’s like you’re seeing him clearly for the first time all night. There’s a heat behind his eyes that you’ve seen a hundred times before, but this time a bit different. Angrier. More desperate. You almost want to ask him why he cares so much, but you know the answer would be another fight.

He’s never been good at hiding his feelings, not when he’s like this, wounded in ways he doesn’t want to show. It’s not just his injury, or the losses, or the fact that he’s benched while everyone else heads off for international break. It’s all of it, pressing down on him like the weight of a season that’s already going wrong, even though it’s barely November.

“What’s going on with you?” you ask, more to break the silence than because you really want to know. It comes out sharper than you mean it to, and you see the way his expression shutters, defenses slamming back into place.

“What’s going on with me?” He lets out a harsh laugh, running a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots. “What’s going on with you? It’s like you’re not even here anymore. We barely talk unless it’s about–” He stops himself, cutting off whatever he was about to say.

“Unless it’s about what?” you snap, putting your phone down. It’s an instinct, this need to go on the offensive before he can twist the knife any deeper. “About football? About how fucked up everything is at my job? Or about how you get to sit around feeling sorry for yourself because your team is losing for once?”

The second the words are out, you regret them. You can see the hurt flash in his eyes, quick as a blink but unmistakable. You’ve seen him pissed off before, plenty of times, but not like this.

He nods slowly, like he’s forcing himself to accept what you’ve just thrown at him. “Wow,” he says, his voice low and dangerous, “I didn’t realize we were keeping score.”

“It’s not about that,” you say quickly, too quickly, the words tripping over themselves as you try to reel them back. “I’m just–fuck, I don’t know. I’m tired, Ruben. I’m so tired of everything.”

He looks at you for a long time, his eyes searching, trying to figure out if you’re lying or if this is just another one of the walls you throw up when you don’t want to deal with the truth. You can almost see the moment he decides it’s not worth fighting. He leans back, sinking into the couch cushions, and picks up his phone without another word.

The silence stretches out between you, and this time it’s suffocating. You pick up your own phone, but the Instagram feed blurs in front of you. You can’t focus, can’t even remember what you were looking at before he interrupted. You’re both here, sitting less than two feet apart, but it’s like a wall has gone up between you, solid and impenetrable.

“I should leave,” you say, standing up and running a hand through your hair, trying to steady the tremble in your voice. “In fact, I shouldn’t come here when I’m in a bad mood.”

He doesn’t even look at you at first. Then, when he does, his eyes are full of –  it’s either anger or disappointment, maybe both. “That was never a problem before,” he says, each word adorned with a bitterness that catches you off guard. “But yeah, maybe you should leave.”

You don’t know what to say, so you don’t say anything. You just grab your bag from the floor, fingers clenching the strap so tight it’s a wonder the leather doesn’t tear. There’s a part of you that wants to drop the bag, to sit back down, to tell him you didn’t mean it – that you’re sorry, that you’re just so fucking tired of pretending that everything’s fine when it’s not. But you can’t. 

“I’ll call you,” you say, even though you both know it’s a lie. You can hear the emptiness in your own voice, and the way he laughs without any humor just twists the knife deeper.

“You won’t,” he says, his tone harsh, too raw, and you see the hurt behind it, the way he’s holding himself together by a thread. “But that’s fine.”

You hesitate, just for a second, standing there in the doorway with one hand on the knob, caught in that familiar push-and-pull of wanting to fix this and wanting to run away before you make it worse. He’s watching you, eyes unblinking, like he’s daring you to stay, and you hate him a little for that – hate him for caring when you don’t know how to anymore.

But you don’t stay. You close the door softly behind you, the click of the latch sounding too final in the quiet apartment. The weight of your bag feels heavier than it should as you make your way out into the cool night air, and you tell yourself you’ll call him tomorrow. You’ll apologize, explain, make it right. But the truth is, you don’t even know if you have the energy to try.

You know, deep down, that he’s right. You probably won’t call.

part 3

It hits you the next morning, sharp and sudden, like a punch to the gut. You wake up too early, tangled in your sheets, and the first thought that drags itself out of the haze is him. It shouldn't feel this intense, shouldn't have you wide-eyed and shivering before the sun’s even up.

But it does. It does, and the weight of it scares you.

Your whole body feels wrong, you skip breakfast, try to force down a cup of coffee, but it doesn’t help. Your stomach churns, and your skin prickles with a strange, feverish heat. You’re cold, so damn cold, but the sweat gathers at your temples and slicks your palms.

Emptiness settles in your chest as you go about your day, an ache that tightens every time your thoughts drift back to the night before. To the way he looked at you. And you hate yourself for it, hate that you need him, that your body is betraying you, craving something you can't let yourself want.

It's ridiculous. It's unbearable. It’s like you’re going through some sort of withdrawal. Just the thought of him – of his hands on you, his voice in your ear – sends a shudder down your spine, and you can’t even focus on the emails piling up in your inbox. You’re not used to this, not used to feeling so raw and exposed, and it makes you feel weak.

Lunch comes and goes, but you barely touch the food, staring blankly at your salad until you push it aside. Your appetite is gone, stolen away by the need that tightens your chest and messes with your breathing. You try to distract yourself, but it's like he's burned into the back of your eyes. Every other thought circles back to him, to the echo of his laugh, the feel of his fingers tracing patterns on your skin.

By mid-afternoon, you’re practically vibrating with it. The restlessness, the discomfort, the absence of him. You can feel it in your bones, this weird kind of panic that has your skin clammy and your hands shaking. It’s not normal, this kind of reaction, and it’s making you question everything you thought you knew about yourself.

What if you can’t stop feeling this way? What if this is just how it’s going to be now – this constant ache, this physical need that won’t let you breathe properly unless he’s there, grounding you?

You end up sneaking out early, your boss too busy with last-minute prep for the new manager to notice. You don’t know where you’re going, don’t have a plan. But your feet take you in the direction of his place anyway, like you’re on autopilot, the city blurring around you. Your phone buzzes with a message – something work-related, but you can’t even look at it.

All you can think is that you need him. You need him now.

part 4

You hesitate outside his door, you’re jittery, nerves buzzing under your skin, and your fingers hover over the wood, half-afraid to knock.

What if he doesn’t want to see you? What if he’s busy or worse – what if he’s not alone? You feel stupid for not calling ahead, for showing up unannounced like this. But it’s too late to turn back now. You take a deep breath and knock, your knuckles rapping against the door in a shaky rhythm.

Your heart is in your throat, the seconds ticking by in agonizing silence, and you wonder if this is how it all ends – him opening the door with a surprised look, gently telling you he’s got plans, and you slinking away like you never showed up in the first place. You’re ready to walk away, to put yourself out of this misery and pretend you never came, when you hear the deadbolt click.

The door swings open, and there he is, looking more surprised than annoyed. He’s wearing a loose t-shirt and joggers, barefoot, like he wasn’t expecting company. His hair’s a mess, and you realize with a weird sense of relief that he was alone.

“Hey,” he says, and you just stand there, because you don’t know what to say. Hey feels too casual for the way your heart’s racing, for the desperation that drove you here in the first place. He looks at you like he’s trying to read your mind, his eyebrows drawing together.

“I – I should have called,” you stutter, feeling heat rush to your face. 

“No, it’s... it’s fine,” he says, stepping aside to let you in. There’s a weird, careful distance in his voice, like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like he can tell there’s something different about today. “Come in.”

You walk inside, brushing past him. You feel his eyes on you the whole time, tracking your every movement. It’s stupid how much you want him to close the door, to pull you close and tell you he’s missed you, that he’s felt the same aching emptiness since you left last night.

But he doesn’t. He lingers by the door, watching as you settle on the edge of the couch, your hands clasped tightly in your lap to keep them from shaking. He knows you’re holding back and is waiting for you to say why you’re really here.

You force yourself to look up, meeting his eyes.

“I needed to see you,” you blurt out. You see surprise flicker across his face, but he doesn’t move, just stands there waiting for you to go on. You swallow, your throat tight, and push the words out. “I just... I can’t stop thinking about you. It’s driving me crazy.”

His eyes widen. Then he’s crossing the room, sitting down beside you, his hand reaching out to touch your knee. It’s gentle, hesitant.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice soft, and it’s the concern in it that makes you want to cry. You nod, even though you’re not sure you are, not really. You’re still scared, still feeling that horrible emptiness clawing at your chest, but he’s here, and he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that matters right now.

You let out a shaky breath and lean into him, pressing your face against his shoulder, and his arms come up around you automatically, holding you close. The relief is instant, a flood of warmth spreading through you, and you realize how desperate you’ve been for this, for him. His hand moves up to your hair, fingers gentle as they brush through it, and you can feel the tension in your body start to unwind, little by little.

“Why didn’t you call?” he murmurs against your hair, and there’s something almost fragile in his voice, like he’s been waiting for you too, like maybe he needed you as much as you needed him.

“I don’t know,” you admit, your voice muffled against his shoulder. “I was afraid you wouldn’t want me here.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands cradling your face, and you can see the frustration and tenderness mingling in his eyes. “You’re an idiot,” he says softly, but there’s no bite to it, only a strange kind of relief. Then he kisses you, hard and urgent, trying to make up for all the things you didn’t say.

[vocallywritten]

Colin Bridgerton in season three was really going through his Tortured Poets Department era.

[maulfucker]

So fucked up that obimaul is a rarepair. What do you mean not everyone is obsessed with enemies to lovers with a Force connection, where one side is completely obsessed with the other who barely acknowledges him (but is just as affected)

[balladeersbell]

I’m going to be honest. I’m a hundred percent convinced that Yuuji will manage to motivate Megumi to get up and the minute they smile at each other, Sukuna will show up and just cleave Megumi’s soul’s head off or something. Yuuji will gain happiness for approximately five seconds before it is ripped violently from his grasp because he’s never allowed to rest from Sukuna’s personal motivation of making his life a living nightmare.

[quietwingsinthesky]

God I wish I had something coherent to say about hunger as one of spn’s core themes but unfortunately my brain just loops back around to “Sam should have eaten more weird supernatural things to see if they also gave him powers.” (Like maybe Lucifer’s blood idk idk)

[alltoounwellll]

I just know that sirius is the best gift giver

[theamazingannie]

I’m a sucker for musical parallels and referencing an old song in a new song but I feel like this TTPD lead up is not just a “this is how I used to feel and now I’m using those themes to show how I feel now” and more of a “those feelings were never real and actually those love songs that were so beautiful before are actually about a bad relationship and full of red flags” cuz it’s honestly ruining my feelings on those old songs. Like Taylor’s whole thing is letting us interrupt the songs and apply them to our own lives and now it’s like even she is encouraging us to only see them through the lens of her most recent breakup and it really sucks tbh

[dirt-str1der]

People in the comments of drst 232.1 literally will be like thank you inagaki sensei and boichi for giving us senku x kohaku fuel 🙈😍 when kohaku rubs her tits on senku and he tells her to fuck off (third time this has happened)

[bighitfics]

jungkook fics i can read all night all day seven days a week.

(a recommendation you didn’t know you needed) ₊⊹ ๋࣭ ⭑⚝

Vows Of Betrayal ౨ৎ by @tljunglebook

— contract marriage au, enemies to lovers, romance, smut, angst.

(I will never not scream about this! this is my current favourite read! the enemies to lovers really hits in this one! AND THE SMUT SCENES ARE SO GOOD THEY MADE ME PREGNANT SO I RECOMMEND!) 😩💳

Inevitable ౨ৎ by @ahundredtimesover

— exes to lovers, second chance, parents au, angst.

(this happens to be the cutest story I’ve ever read, the longing and angst is so good!) 🥺🫶🏼

Dextrocardia ౨ৎ by @jeonstudios

— enemies to lovers, fake marriage, cop au, angst.

(this story should be arrested for being so damn good! i love how intense the enemies phase is before they start softening towards each other, the way the author managed to portray the patriarchal issues through this story is incredible, i never thought i’d say this but im an anti of jungkook in this story 😤😡 he better apologise with crocodile tears otherwise he can say goodbye to y/n.

You’re Still Mine ౨ৎ by @wattpadauthour

— workaholic husband jungkook, marriage in trouble trope, second chance.

(THIS STORY IS GONNA BE MY FOREVER FAVOURITE FOR A LONG LONG TIME! NO MATTER HOW MANY STORIES I READ I WILL ALWAYS GO BACK TO RE-READ! LIKE READ IT RIGHTAWAY IF YOU HAVENT! 😤)

Four-Seven-Eight ౨ৎ by @jiminrings

— marriage in crisis, angst, more angst, fluff.

(the heartache you’re gonna feel while reading this is no joke, i really felt sad for the y/n here (and cried a river) AND I LOVE IT WHEN BOOKS MAKE ME CRY LIKE THE WORLD IS ENDING TOMMOROW 😻💋 you know its gonna be worth it)

Time After Time ౨ৎ by @hiseyestell

— doctor au, she fell first but he fell harder (but much later), fluff.

(by far the most realistic fanfic I’ve read, jungkook is so cold that you wanna smack him in his stupid head, the female oc is so smitten with him its adorable but sad at the same time) ☹️

His Clumsy Secretary ౨ৎ by @hwangguemfictions

— grumpy x sunshine, he fell first and harder, office romance, major angst.

(this fanfic is criminally good! especially the bgm, the dialogues, the way he’s just so endeared with her, this is a big smash!) 🤰🏻🫦

The Deepest Marks Of Essence ౨ৎ by @lleldey

— tribe leader jungkook, yandere au, smut, angst.

(my favourite writer for a reason! 🫴🏼 i can never stop obsessing over yer unique storylines and writing, she’s my new favourite tbh and this story will convince you as well) 🤭💕

Marrying The Vicount ౨ৎ by @taevjim

— rich man x poor girl, regency era au, smut, filthy fluff.

(my two worlds colliding fr! this author wrote it so beautifully 😍🤌🏻 jungkook as a vicount tho (im already crying between my legs) this is like a fever dream come true, this is so effing good that i think no words are fair enough, maybe you should take a look yourself! (i swear this is worth the read!!!!)

[sttoru]

‘the king of curses doesn’t like sharing. especially not when it comes to his partner.’

☀︎｜tags. heian era!sukuna x female reader. sfw/fluff ? ig. set in the heian era, duh. jealousy & possessive themes. size difference (reader gets referred to as small!). tried to be realistic w/ sukuna’s characterisation so. . . don’t be surprised to read about him killing somebody. therefore, mentions of blood. reader is implied to have a fear of blood (dw sukuna takes care of it teehee). reader gets called 'brat'. not beta read; this sucks ass.

you were taking a stroll outside of the estate, the hem of the floral kimono you’re wearing lightly dragging along behind you. the weather was perfect with not a single cloud in sight.

a pair of silent footsteps follow yours and you sigh. even though it was an usual occurrence, you still aren’t used to having one of sukuna’s servants at your side at all times. your over protective lover insisted that it was for your own ‘safety’. as if anything or anyone could harm you whilst you stay within the four walls of the estate far up in the mountains.

sukuna is continuously busy and thus decided to assign you a personal maid that accompanies you and takes care of your every need when he isn’t able to. well - looking at the bright side of things - at least she tries her best to hide her presence from you. she tags along silently and only speaks when spoken to.

you stop near a sakura tree and tilt your head back to admire its beauty. after a few minutes pass, you hear a different pair of footsteps walking up your way. you turn your head and see a familiar male servant approaching you with his head held low.

his hands were holding onto a platter with a cup of warm tea and a few of your favorite delicacies. the brown-haired man greets you politely. maybe a bit too politely as his voice carries a bright smile, “good afternoon, my lady.”

you return the greeting with a smile of your own. it was like you to treat the servants around the estate with kindness and care — a total opposite of the king of curses. you take a pastry from the platter and look back up at the man, “thank you for bringing me these. i appreciate it greatly.”

the way you treat the ones of lower status has always been an admirable trait of yours. it might have stirred some forbidden feelings for you in the heart of the male servant. he knows that it was impossible - he’d seen how easily sukuna gets rid of those who get too close to you.

but, he isn’t here. the king of curses isn’t present in the current moment. the brown-haired male shifts in his place a little, fingernails digging into the material of the plate he was holding. he was going to do it — no one could hold him back. not even the maid who stood a couple steps away.

“y-you look very beautiful, my lady.” the servant stutters and bows his head at you. you are surprised to hear such a flattering sentence leave the lips of the man in front of you. none of the men around you had dared to be this straightforward in ages. they all knew the possible consequences that such actions could bring after all.

perhaps it was due to the absent intimidating presence of your lover. still, you can’t help but feel grateful. you giggle softly, covering your mouth with your free hand, “thank you so much.”

the male servant gulps at the sound of your laughter. ‘oh, how lucky the king of curses is - to have such a beautiful woman at his side,’ the man thought to himself. he was sure that he could treat you better than the indifferent sukuna himself.

he hesitates to continue the conversation for a second. there was an urge deep within him; to ask if you’d like to have some tea with him in the dining area. it would be extremely bold and maybe way out of line considering that you’re taken.

but, the way you reacted to his earlier compliment gave him a huge confidence boost. one that would sooner or later send him to his grave.

“would you perhaps be interested in joining me for a drink, my lady?” the servant asks and anything that happens after that instant, is all but a blur.

you can’t process the next few moments as everything happens way too fast. the last thing you remember seeing, was the servant before you. a sudden gust of wind passes by and the sounds of quick slashes fill your ears. you couldn’t figure out anything else as your vision gets blocked by something. or rather - someone.

a familiar and large hand covers the back of your head. the scent of the person holding you is also oddly familiar—a certain scent that made a shiver run down your spine from both excitement and light fear.

“sukuna?” you guess and guess correctly. your voice was muffled due to your face being smushed against his torso. you didn’t yet understand what happened, so you try to pull your body away from the king of curses, only for his grip on you to tighten.

sukuna’s face was as emotionless as ever. his eyes look down at the pile of blood near your feet — what was once a human being had now turned into nothing but a pure crimson liquid.

“foolish. absolutely foolish.” the king of curses grumbles, his tone filled with disgust. he doesn’t soften the grip on your body for even a moment. one of his four arms holds you captive against him, his hand firmly yet somehow tenderly cradling your head just above his midriff, “it seems that i cannot leave this place for a single second.”

sukuna glances at your personal maid who had been bowing to him the moment he appeared out of thin air. she could feel his piercing gaze on her and knew exactly what to do without being told: to clean up the mess that stained the garden’s pavement.

“sukuna,” you try to move your head again, but was still restricted. you let out a small whine in response. you just wanted to see your lover after spending an entire day without him. any thoughts about that servant from earlier had long vanished, “i want to see you. can i?”

the request is an innocent one. there isn’t a visible change in sukuna's expression, but the way you asked him that was quite. . . endearing, if he were to explain it. he would comply if it wasn’t for the literal bloodbath he created. which he doesn’t want you to witness.

“not yet.” he replies and effortlessly uses one of his arms to pick your small body up. your lover notices how you try to steal a glimpse at the scene behind you while he moves you around in his embrace. he grunts and gently smacks the back of your head, “no peeking, brat. do as told.”

sukuna knows how much you hate the sight of blood. he's being considerate towards you — even if you do not realise that just yet. however, he also does not have a single regret about murdering that servant. it was to be expected. anybody who dares to make a move on his woman should suffer his wrath.

plus, it's not like you don't know about sukuna's ruthless actions. you’ve come to get used to them; more and more male servants keep dissappearing without a trace after they’ve been ‘too friendly' with you. it's easy to guess who’s behind those disappearances.

it doesn’t bother you in the slightest. as long as you don't see it happening and as long as you get to stay under sukuna's care and protection - you don’t mind.

“can i look now?” you huff after sukuna has carried you away from the garden. the king of curses clicks his tongue at your impatience.

he sighs deeply before allowing you back on your own two feet, “i do not understand why you’re so adamant on looking at me, but fine.”

you waste no time and immediately open your eyes. your gaze doesn’t wander off towards your surroundings—it instantly settles on sukuna. he looked the same as usual; there was not a single change about his appearance and yet you find yourself smiling at the sight of him.

“i missed you.” you hug your lover and feel him returning the gesture a few seconds later. he looks the other way and may seem indifferent to your display of affection, though the man was secretly grateful for it. for you in general.

“mhm.” sukuna lets out a small noise of acknowledgment and that is all you get out of him. he doesn’t have to say much; his body automatically does the talking. he squeezes your body against his — your small frame disappearing behind his beefy arms.

the king of curses doesn’t understand why, but the way your eyes sparkle when looking at him, intrigues him. sukuna had never seen another human look at him like that before after all. they all cower in fear; except for you. you don’t show a single ounce of fear. thus why you are something - someone - he must keep for himself.

he has and will never have any intent on sharing you with anyone. you’re his, for as long as he exists.

[sunshineandwhiteroses]

I refuse to believe that wasn't the plan. He was going to send the jabber jay to Dr. Gaul, who would then send it to Strabo Plinth, as blackmail, obviously. And then he would shell out an ungodly sum of money to fund the next 30 Hunger Games or smth like that, and he would arrange for Sejanus to be brought back home where he and Ma Plinth could watch over him while Coryo went to District 2 and worked his way back to the Capitol (perhaps sooner rather than later because he saved his son yet again) and then when he had his heroic welcome back home he would marry Sejanus and boom all that money would be his.

The realization that Coriolanus Snow could have taken over the Plinth Fortune by marrying Sejanus will never not be funny for me.

[peachysunrize]

Tryst ⥃ Aemond Targaryen

Summary: Aemond walks in on his newly wedded wife changing, surely she is not as temperate as her father when she catches him eyeing her, is she?

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, kind of enemies to lovers, VELARYON READER!!, reader has silver hair, virging!reader, fingering, reader is angry lol, breeding, lots of scratching and biting, porn no plot! English isn’t my first language<3

Word count: 2.7k+

A/n: I missed my pwp era so here is a short rough smut with our prince Aemond! Missed being unhinged, so here is a fiery reader who is just as crazy as Aemond🤭 Reblogs & comments are always appreciated!💕

Marrying Daemon’s oldest daughter was not something Aemond could ever imagine, especially since it was his uncle’s idea to offer your hand in marriage; perhaps you were too much of a rebel to be kept on Dragonstone.

He remembers how much you glared at him the day he and his family came to that old wet castle to visit you and your family, and to settle for an agreement so the qualms between the families would vanish — or at least try to make amends somehow.

What he did not expect was for you to be utterly disgusted and angry at him, to the point when he had to show others you were officially courting, you did not even spare him a glance.

He despises you just as much if not more.

But he does not know why he is walking towards your chambers after the supper which you left in a really angry manner, leaving everyone stunned but him. 

It is late as he walks through the dimly lit hallways of the Red Keep, an hour or two before the dead of the night, and his intentions are not clear enough to see why he is taking routes to where your chambers are. If only he knew why, he would try to avoid it at all costs.

He walks with his hands held behind him, chin up with his good eye scanning every tapestry on the wall, every knight who moves past him, in hopes of finding an answer for his intentions.

Your chambers are not much far from his, it would be too scandalous for husband and wife to be sleeping in different rooms, especially since your marriage happens to be the talk of every gathering and whispers of the court — not to anyone’s surprise, Daemon’s oldest daughter and Aemond Targaryen are a match of flames, burning each other until there is nothing but ashes — but you do not care if you are the subject of laughter among these lowly lords and ladies.

Aemond sighs, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his sleeves, trying to keep himself grounded as he walks towards the hallway that ends with a door to your room. He narrows his eye when he finds your knights nowhere to be seen, assuming you must have dismissed them yourself.

He reaches to knock on your door, taking in a deep breath to calm himself down before he rests his hand on the door, watching it slowly crack open. Why would you leave your door unguarded and open? Were you waiting for someone? Were you waiting for him?

With a curious look, he slowly pushes the door open, not wishing to startle you even though he could care less if you jump and scream out of fear, but he gives you this one privilege at least. He winces when the door makes a cracking sound, but he relaxes when he does not hear a sound of displeasure or concern coming from inside — in fact, the low humming catches him by surprise, making his ears perk at the sweet sound of melody filling your room.

When he has the door open enough to peek inside the room, he is taken aback by seeing you slowly disrobing, dropping layer after layer of your clothing on the ground, revealing your bare back to him. 

His lips part in shock, sighing as he takes the newly exposed skin in, watching you drop your clothes on the ground, walking around your nightshift to grab your hairbrush.

Aemond is lost; seeing his wife mildly nude for the first time since he said his vows was something he did not really think about. Every thought he has had about you was always filled with anger, rage, and hatred, but deep inside, he could feel his feelings bubbling with anticipation for something far beyond whatever he had already experienced.

And now, seeing you brush your silver locks with grace makes his chest tighten, but your bare back has his mind turn cloudy and sinful, leaving him breathless as he feels his leather pants tighten.

Subconsciously, he pushes the door open a bit more forcefully than he intended to, making a loud crying sound. He freezes, his eye widening when you scream and turn around, throwing the brush at his face, but he dodges in time, watching in horror as the brush flies to the hallway.

“What is your fucking business here?” You yell at him, reaching for one of your jewelry boxes, holding it up to threaten him with another attack, “Speak, now!”

“I…I—fucking gods, woman!”

He says it with gritted teeth, moving his head quickly when you throw the box at him, hitting the door as he closes it so none of your belongings get lost.

“Were you watching me?” You ask, laughing in disbelief as you walk quickly to grab the nearest book on your desk, throwing at him again, “I reckoned your brother was the pervert one, but it appears it runs in the family!”

“Stop this madness!” He yells back, shielding his face with his arms as the book comes close to hit him in the cheek, “I was not watching, do not think yourself so appealing—“

“You do not find your wife appealing?” You point the candle holder you grab in the blink of an eye towards Aemond, narrowing your eyes at him as you take a step closer, “You come into my room, watching me peel off my clothes until I am naked just to say you do not find me appealing?”

“I did not say that, wife—“ he holds his hands up, slowly backing away from you, his back hitting the wall with a soft ‘thud’ before he resumes talking, “I was merely disagreeing about how I am of a sick mind, I am not, I wished to talk to you—“

“Nonsense!” You step closer, holding the sharp candle holder in his direction, “You said it, I heard it with my own ears! I despise you for being here, for being my husband, for trying to break me while it is you who does not wish to warm my bed.”

“Drop that thing, wife,” he sighs, gently trying to reach and grab it from you but you take a step back suddenly, glaring at him, “Don’t force me to come here and take it from you.”

“I would like to see you try, husband,” Venom drips from your words while you stare daggers at him, your grip tightening around the candle holder “Get out of my room!”

“You are my wife, I will do as I please,” his tone matches yours as he stares back at you, his eye darkening at the sight of your chest visible underneath your thin nightshift, “If I wish to stay here, I will—“

“Get. Out!” 

Before you are given the chance to throw what you are holding at him, Aemond grabs you by your wrist, pulling you closer as he switches your positions and pushes you against the wall; one knee between your legs and both of his hands pinning your wrists to the wall with one next to your head and the other above it.

“Why must you be so difficult?” He whispers, his nostrils flaring as he glares down at you, his fingers tightening around your wrists until you whimper and drop the candle holder, chest heaving as you look up at him.

“I am a reflection of how you treat me,” you spit the words out, craning your neck to lean closer to him, your nose brushing against his, “I despise you for the air you breathe, for the wine you drink—“

“And you do believe that I don’t seeth every time I am reminded that you are my wife?” He pushes his nose against yours forcefully, keeping your head locked against his and the wall with his forehead on yours, his hot breath mingling with your quick panting, “I wish to tear through everything that reminds me of you and your father—“

“Then do, coward,” you cut him off, your eyes falling down to his pink lips, wiggling against his hold, trying to free yourself, “Make me hate you more than I already do.”

And he does; his lips meet yours in a searing kiss, knocking the breath out of your lungs as he lets go of one of your wrists to pull you in closer by your waist, his nails digging into your flesh.

Your hand goes to his soft silky hair, pulling on the hair tie roughly as you kiss him back, threading your fingers through his locks, tugging at the root of his hair while he bites down your lips, freeing your other wrist too.

Aemond’s hand comes up to cradle your jaw, his tongue pushing past your lips so he can taste you thoroughly. He bucks his knee to your clothed core, encouraging you to go ahead and take your fill, rock your hatred into oblivion.

You whine as you slowly grind down on him, your lips falling apart as you break the kiss to gasp for air, your hand tugging at his hair while your other hand goes to his doublet, undoing it quickly while your hips pick up the pace.

“Go on, wife,” he whispers, hand letting go of your jaw before he reaches down to rub your heat over your underwear, letting out a shaky sigh when he finds a wet spot on the fabric, “So much for hating me, your cunt is betraying you.”

“Fuck you—“

“Fuck me indeed,” he pushes your underwear aside, swiping his fingers through your wet folds, enjoying the broken whine you let out.

He leans down, prepping kisses and bites along your neck, sinking his teeth a bit too hard when you push his doublet down and dig your nails in his pecks. Aemond’s thumb circles your pearl, making you tremble under his touch as he makes your essence drip on your inner thighs.

You throw your head back when he gently prods your entrance with one finger, easing the digit inside your warm walls with ease because of your wetness. He hums against your collarbone, enjoying how slowly you are losing yourself in the feeling of being wrapped in his arms — although the scratches you are leaving on his chest through his undershirt are the opposite of what he thinks.

He adds another finger, scissoring you open as he pumps his finger in and out of you, going in knuckles deep while he curves his digits, enjoying how your face twists with pleasure and a fit of anger that fuels because of how it is him who is giving you this pleasure.

“I need more,” you whine, one hand coming down to rest against his wrist, keeping his hand there as he thrusts his fingers faster, the lewd sound of squelching echoing in the room.

“I will give you more,” he goes faster when he notices how your eyes drop shut and your legs start to shake around his hand, your walls gripping his fingers for dear life, “I will make you fall in love with me.”

“Impossible,” you gasp, toes curling as you shake and peak around his fingers, throwing your head back against the wall while you gush and release all over his hand, “You are unlovable.”

“As I said before…” he whispers before he pulls his fingers out, wiping your wetness on your nightshift before he grabs the side of the fabric and tears it in half, leaving your body bare to his eye, “Your body betrays you, wife.”

You look at him in shock, covering your breasts with your arms, but Aemond has none of it; he slaps your arms away, taking off his undershirt, revealing his smooth chest before he grabs you by the nape and pulls you in for another kiss.

Your lips crash into each other, your hands tugging and pulling on the other’s hair while Aemond leads you to the bed, nearly tripping over the pile of clothes. 

He drops you on the bed, quickly crawling on top of you to meet you halfway for another passionate kiss, his hips pressing against the side of your hip before you spread your legs for him, pulling him even closer.

You reach between your bodies to palm the growing tent in his pants, squeezing and relishing in the sound he makes in your mouth before you urge him to push his pants and breeches down enough to free his cock.

You loathe how pretty he is, how pretty his cock is. You despise him for being the definition of Targaryen beauty, but now, the man you hate the most, the man who you have the spiteful pleasure of calling your husband, is about to take you for the first time.

He knows, of course he knows, because the queen would never choose anything less than a noble lady for her precious son; so he goes gently after he strokes his length a few times, pumping it to full hardness. He guides the red weeping head of his dick to your entrance, pushing in slowly, his hands going to your hips as he sits up on his knees so he can watch as he breaches past your muscles, the tip of his cock disappearing inside you.

You writhe beneath him, fisting the bed sheets as you nod and wait for him to go all the way in, pushing you to your limits as the stretch begins to be a bit painful, but he brings your hands to his chest, urging you to scratch him as hard as you wish when you feel any discomfort.

Aemond thrusts himself inside you completely, groaning at the tight feeling of your cunt gripping him like a vice, holding onto him until he has carved the shape of his cock within your walls.

He drops forward, holding himself up by his hands on each side of your face before he starts hammering himself inside you, making you gasp and moan incoherent words underneath him — the princeling in him only lasted for a few minutes, and now, he is just the Aemond who finds you annoying and miserable, fucking you as you are; the wife he hates, the woman he craves.

The rise and fall of your chest grows faster, and you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, fingers leaving red angry marks all over his shoulder blades and back while you lock your legs around his slim waist, keeping him caged against you.

There are no words exchanged, there is no need to when both of you are moaning and groaning at the feeling, biting each other until there are visible signs of your tryst for the court to see on the next morrow.

He feels your walls clenching around his girth, bringing both his and your high closer. One of his hands reaches down, circling your nub so you fall over the edge of bliss, euphoria rushing through your body.

He follows closely, hammering his cock deep inside you until he buries himself into you and paints your walls with his seed, his eye wide open as he stares down at you, lips parted and pupil blown.

He pulls out of you after his body stops shaking, dropping down on the bed next to you as he tries to catch his breath, his arm lying limp on top of your body.

You feel his cum dribbling out of you, alerting you of what you have done. Suddenly, a wave of hatred crashes into your head, and you turn your head to look at his peaceful face before you start shoving him down your bed.

“Get out, arsehol!” You pull the covers on you, keeping them secure against your chest as you try to shove him down on the floor, “Get out of my room!”

“Easy, woman,” he throws his hands up in defeat, fixing his pants before he grabs his undershirt and puts it on, “I do not intend to stay here longer than needed.”

“I hate you,” you say, pushing him out of the door with force, frowning when he laughs into your face but you do not wait for him to reply before you slam the door shut.

But you hear him from the other side of the door.

“Mutual feelings, wife.”

[fushitoru]

chapter 3: the manor a bridgerton!au

pairing ⸺ duke!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary ⸺ dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, heir to a dukedom mr. satoru gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?

warnings ⸺ nsfw, enemies to lovers, bridgerton au, angst, fluff, eventual smut, jealousy, misogyny, regency era au, gojo being infuriating, reader also being infuriating, both of them are clueless honestly

chapter summary ⸺ you and gojo have just uncovered your mothers' matchmaking scheme: a plan that sends you both to his extravagant countryside manor in kent, arriving a week earlier than the rest of the ton. the question remains—can you endure gojo's insufferable nature during this secluded stay? (8.3k)

prev. the aftermath | next. the game

general masterlist | series masterlist

a/n krnfeknfkejrn i was so tired writing this chapter but used it to procrastinate on the reports and papers i have to write for internship/reports (wtf is quantum physics anyways). ty as always to @/sinn-clair for being the best beta reader <33333

Dear readers, 

Apparently, last week, there was an altercation in Lady Itadori’s drawing room involving Lord Gojo, Miss Itadori, and a dog. The dog was the victor. 

Furthermore, If one is to trust the betting books, then Lord Gojo shall be witness to wedding bells before the year is through.

As much as it pains This Author to agree with the betting books (they are written by men, and thus inherently flawed), This Author must concur in the prediction.

Duchess Gojo will soon have her daughter-in-law. But who she will be⸺ah, Gentle Reader, that is still anyone’s guess. 

⸻ LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS

Mary Wollstonecraft’s A Vindication of the Rights of Woman⸺a work I have long heard whispers about but never fully encountered until now. Her words, as bold as they are revolutionary, have struck a chord deep within me. She speaks of the education and independence of women, of our capacity for reason and our right to be regarded as more than mere adornments to the lives of men. Her arguments are so meticulously crafted, so unwavering in their conviction, that they have compelled me to reflect on my own circumstances.

I confess, there is something intoxicating about the notion that women might be more than what society has so neatly confined us to be. Is it truly so outlandish to consider that we, too, possess minds capable of great thought and spirits yearning for freedom?

I cannot help but wonder if there will ever come a time when these two worlds might reconcile⸺the status quo and that of what the book articulates. When women might be both respected and fre

Before you could finish writing in your diary, you suddenly heard frantic footsteps down the hallway, leading closer and closer to your door. Nobara bursts into the room, and you look up at her in confusion and, partially, dread. Nobara wouldn’t be bursting into your room unless there was someone who absolutely couldn’t see what you were doing in your past time.

Before she could catch her breath, she wheezed out, “Your mother.”

You quickly hopped into action with practiced and routine movements. Lunging for the floorboard that had hollow space beneath it, you moved it so you could place the book and your diary underneath and quickly hide evidence of you reading scandalous and radical works.

Just in time, it seemed, as your mother walked into your room to see you on your bed.

She squinted her eyes in suspicion. “What were you doing?”

You averted her gaze. “Nothing, just daydreaming, Mama.”

Usually, she would prod further into the matter, but it seemed as if she was too excited for that. Clapping her hands, she exclaimed, “I have just got an exclusive invitation for you! One that could secure you a very good match.”

You gave her a quizzical look as she walked closer, sitting at the foot of your bed with an expression of barely contained glee. “We shall be visiting the Gojo estate in Kent!”

At the mention of his name, your left eye twitched, though your mother remained oblivious. “Indeed, Mama? As is every other lady in London, I presume.”

“No, no,” she replied, waving your quip away with a dismissive hand. “We are to arrive at the Gojo estate before the house party.”

Your heart sank, dread pooling in your stomach. Oh, no, no, no, no. A sudden pressure gripped your chest, and you found yourself clutching at the bodice of your dress as if to steady your racing heart. “Before the house party, Mama?” Your voice, despite your best efforts, came out higher-pitched than usual, though you tried to maintain a semblance of composure. “Whatever for?”

“To secure an advantage, of course!” she replied with a bright smile, as though the matter were the simplest thing in the world. “The Gojo family has extended a personal invitation for us to stay with them for a few days prior to the event. It is plain to see⸺he is quite taken with you. Even that dreadful Lady Whistledown has noted as much.” She smiled indulgently, reaching out to gently smooth a stray lock of your hair. “It is your natural grace and charm, my dear, that has made you the season’s diamond.”

As your mother continued to speak, the twisting in your stomach began to intensify, morphing from nausea into something sharper, something more akin to anger. You kept nodding, trying to maintain a slightly pained smile, but the thought of spending time at the Gojo manor, in such close quarters with him, became increasingly unbearable. The memories of your recent encounters⸺his biting remarks, his mocking gaze⸺were still fresh in your mind, and the idea that you were being pushed toward an engagement with him made your skin crawl. But you knew better than to express your true feelings to your mother.

“That is… unexpected,” you managed to say, choosing your words carefully. “Are you certain this is a good idea, Mama? Perhaps we might appear too eager and ward off other potential suitors, lest they mistake me as claimed by Gojo?”

“Nonsense!” she replied with a dismissive laugh. “If all goes well, you’ll be announcing your engagement at the house party itself!”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You could hardly breathe as the full weight of what she was saying sank in. An engagement. To Gojo.

You almost felt faint, but as the initial shock wore off, it was replaced by a simmering anger. How dare he? How dare Gojo make a game of this, toying with you as if your future was nothing more than a sport to him? And how could your mother not see that she was playing right into his hands?

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure, but the anger was bubbling up, threatening to spill over. “But, Mama, what if he does not wish to marry? What if he simply enjoys… toying with people?”

Your mother’s expression softened as she reached out to pat your hand, oblivious to the storm brewing inside you. “My dear, you are overthinking this. Men like Lord Gojo may seem playful and insouciant, but they are ultimately driven by duty. A man in his position knows the importance of finding a suitable wife, and you⸺my darling⸺are just the woman for the role. You are intelligent, accomplished, and beautiful. He would be a fool not to see that.”

Each word only fueled the fire of your anger. Duty? Suitable wife? You bit your lip, feeling the weight of her expectations press down on you like a suffocating blanket. But beneath that weight was a growing resolve, a refusal to be treated like a pawn in some grand game of power and prestige. Gojo might enjoy playing with others' lives, but you would not be his plaything.

You gave her a pained smile. “If you say so, Mama…” you replied, the anger now evident in the tightness of your voice.

“Of course, I do!” she declared, rising from the bed with a self-satisfied smile. “Now, we must begin preparations immediately. There is much to be done before we depart.”

As your mother closed the door, you stormed over to the floorboard, whipped open your diary and prepped your quill to furiously write: 

Lord Gojo is a most intolerable wretch. Though his outward appearance might deceive many, there is an endless well of impurities within his character.

Indeed, God truly blesses the wrong soldiers with features such as his. However, I take pride in being one of His strongest for I possess the fortitude to resist the temptation of ending Gojo’s miserable existence myself.

Were Sukuna here, I daresay he would assist me in disposing of the body with great enthusiasm.

While the Gojo dinner table was stocked with the finest of meals⸺that deserving of a wealthy dukedom, of course⸺Satoru found himself eyeing one dish of all⸺the scones.

Observing his mother and father, who were engrossed in deep conversation, he realized he could make the move. As discreetly as he could, he stocked his plate with many of the treats. The cook, bless his soul, knew how to make scones exactly right: soft, yet hard around the edges that have Satoru drooling when he takes a bite in to get a burst of flavor. He discreetly tucked a few sweets into his pocket for tonight’s work session on some Gojo business, thinking himself subtle.

Satoru could continue writing endless love poems in his head towards his chef’s scones, But Lady Gojo, ever watchful, noticed his little scheme. She arched an eyebrow, her tone teasing as she remarked, "Satoru, darling, it astonishes me that you remain so fit with such a fondness for sweets."

Without missing a beat, Gojo flashed his usual charming smile and responded, “Perhaps it is because I am kept on my toes constantly by you, Mother.” His parents shared a laugh at this, clearly amused by his playful banter.

The Gojo dining fell into a comfortable lull once again, sounds of forks and knives scratching against porcelain plates. The silence was better, Satoru believed. Because he knew he was not going to be pleased at what his father had to say to him next, judged based on the thoughtful look he adopted while staring at Gojo. 

“And how fares the season, Satoru? Have you made any progress?”

Satoru wanted to groan so bad, but instead, he straightened in his seat, the smile on his face now simply a facade. “I am confident all will proceed as expected, Father,” he replied, though his tone lacked its usual certainty.

Duke Gojo narrowed his eyes slightly, sensing something amiss. “Are you sure about that?” he probed. “You know very well, Satoru, that your inheritance of the title is contingent upon securing a wife and producing an heir. This is not a matter to be taken lightly.”

The weight of his father’s words hung in the air, pressing down on Gojo with the full force of expectation.  Would it be eccentric if I decided to scream to the heavens right now?

Before Gojo could even formulate a response, his mother, ever the one to steer the conversation, interjected with a delighted exclamation. “Oh, it’s all handled, my dear! Did you not hear? The diamond of the season is arriving a week early to our manor in the countryside!”

All thoughts of screaming himself mute vanished as his mother’s words piqued his interest. Now, this was interesting. You? Spending time with him, under his roof, with no escape? The idea alone was enough to spark a dangerous gleam in his eyes. Satoru almost started cackling maniacally at the thought of pestering you until you broke that oh-so-perfect and uptight demeanor of yours, until you were reduced to exactly what you were: an unruly and highly emotional know-it-all.

One could say Satoru was very bitter about the losses he had bore for that horse race.

As a self-assured smirk started to creep up Satoru’s face, Duke Gojo blinked, surprised by the news. “A week early? That’s quite unusual,” he remarked, turning his gaze back to his son.

Satoru offered a sweet smile. “Yes, unusual indeed.” He knew his parents were well aware of the marital implications of such an arrangement, and he could feel their eyes on him, gauging his reaction.

But Duchess Gojo, satisfied with her announcement, continued with a gleeful smile. “I daresay, it’s all coming together perfectly. Even matchmakers could not have planned it better.”

Indeed, Mother! The prospect grew more delightful with each passing second, and the corners of his mouth curled into a sly grin. You were in for quite the week, and he would relish every moment of ruining your composure.

Yuji leaned in closer, his sharp eyes narrowing as he studied your face. “Sister, did you perhaps neglect the chamber pot today?” he asked, his tone teasing but his gaze serious. “Your expression is quite telling.”

 The carriage, though spacious, felt suffocating with the tension hanging in the air. Your mother sat by the window, her eyes sparkling with what could only be described as gleeful scheming regarding your imminent week at the Gojo manor. You, on the other hand, simmered with barely contained fury, with a pinch of nausea, your thoughts consumed with how you would confront Gojo at the ball you were all headed to. Yuji’s scrutiny only added to your irritation, his amused yet concerned face a stark contrast to your stormy mood. Across from you, Choso couldn’t suppress a snicker at Yuji’s comment, clearly enjoying the exchange.

You snapped, unable to contain your frustration any longer. “Yuji, if you do not cease your incessant prying, I shall see to it that you regret ever opening your mouth!”

Yuji flinched, visibly startled by your outburst. His confidence wavered as he stammered, “I⸺I meant no harm, sister.” He quickly extended his elbow to you, his movements almost robotic in their sudden politeness. “Please, allow me to escort you inside.”

You ignored the offer, your focus already elsewhere. The moment the carriage came to a stop, you heaved yourself off, stepping into the entrance. Grand revelry was before you; many suitors and young ladies were present, necks glittering with diamonds and hands adorned with gloves. Roving your gaze around, you saw him.

The world around you seemed to blur as your gaze locked onto Gojo, everything else fading into the background. A sleazy and handsome grin on his face, definitely talking about some useless nonsense. 

Like a bull seeing red, you marched forward with determined fury, your sights set solely on him. He stood there, the picture of nonchalance, completely unaware of the storm heading his way. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, your anger propelling you forward with each step. Yuji and Choso exchanged confused glances as they lingered by the entrance, unsure of what had just transpired.

As you closed the distance, Gojo finally noticed you, his usual smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. But there was no time for his usual banter; you were ready to confront him head-on, no matter the consequences.

“What have you done?” you roared, striding towards Gojo. His head turned slowly, an amused and condescending smile creeping across his face. “I know this is⸺”

“Miss Itadori,” a voice hissed, dripping with offense. You turned to see Miss Yuki glaring at you. “Lord Gojo and I were in the midst of a very private conversation.”

You blinked, realizing that in your anger, you had entirely overlooked Miss Yuki’s presence. Though inwardly rolling your eyes, you knew it was best to maintain decorum. You curtsied in apology. “My sincerest apologies, Miss Yuki. I shall leave you both to continue your conversation.”

As you stepped back, giving them respectable space, Miss Yuki side-eyed you with a sharp “hmph!” before turning back to Gojo with a flirtatious smile.

“So, my lord,” Yuki began, her tone coy, “what type of woman would be to your liking?”

Gojo scratched his chin, feigning deep thought as he prepared his response. “Well, Miss Yuki, I would imagine she must be intelligent, accomplished, and⸺” He paused dramatically, taking her hand and kissing the back of it with a slow, deliberate drawl, “⸺and beautiful.”

You suppressed a sigh. Does he never tire of that tiresome gesture? It’s grown exceedingly dull.

Yuki’s pleased grin widened. “And what level of intellect do you find satisfactory, my lord?”

“Well,” Gojo mused, “I would prefer a lady well-versed in calculations. I often find myself making errors in my ledgers late at night, and a wife who could assist would be most valuable. Moreover, I would enjoy engaging in debates on scientific matters.”

Is he seeking a wife or an accountant?

The unusual nature of his request clearly left Yuki taken aback. She blinked, her smile tightening. “Indeed, Lord Gojo, these are rather...uncommon expectations for a wife.” Yuki then hesitated, glancing around as though searching for an escape. “Well, my lord, as intriguing as this conversation has been, I fear I must take my leave. My mother has been awaiting my return, and I would not wish to keep her waiting.”

She curtsied with a strained smile, clearly eager to extricate herself from the awkward situation Gojo’s peculiar standards had created. Without waiting for a reply, she swiftly turned and made her exit, leaving you alone to confront Gojo, who now had an amused look on his face, as if he had purposefully answered that way to ward Miss Yuki off.

You pointed your finger at him, wagging it accusingly as you hissed, “Gojo, I know this was one of your ploys.”

He let out an exaggerated groan, and he dropped all flirtatious pretenses he had adopted when conversing with the other lady. “Ah, yes. Please, by all means, heap more blame upon me for things entirely beyond my control. I derive immense pleasure from being the target of your needless and misdirected fury.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Whatever do you mean by that?”

With a strained smile, he sighed. “It seems our mothers have taken it upon themselves to orchestrate this entire charade.”

Your hands flew up in exasperation. “I cannot believe this! I would sooner perish than marry you, and heaven help me if I were ever to bear your children!”

“Spare me the theatrics,” Gojo replied, shaking his head as if amused by your outburst. He inclined his head slightly, gesturing toward something in the distance. “We are being observed.”

You followed his gaze and saw, across the dance floor, both of your mothers trying—albeit poorly—to appear inconspicuous as they exchanged furtive glances and whispered behind their fans.

You huffed in frustration, turning back to Gojo. “This is absurd.”

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against your ear as he leaned in closer. “But would it be so terrible to bear my children?” he murmured, his tone teasing yet somehow serious.

Your pulse quickened at his words, but you refused to let it show. You straightened your posture, meeting his gaze with as much poise as you could muster. “I can’t think of far worse fates, my lord,” you replied, a touch of sarcasm lacing your words.

Gojo’s smile widened, clearly undeterred. His hand brushed lightly against your arm, the touch fleeting but enough to send a shiver down your spine.. You felt a slight tremor of awareness course through you, and despite your best efforts, a hint of warmth crept into your cheeks.

He leaned in even closer, his voice a low murmur. “You seem flustered, Miss Itadori,” he said, his breath warm against your skin. “I must admit, the idea of a future with you is… intriguing.”

Flustered and at a loss of witty remarks, you stammered, struggling to find your voice. “I⸺I hardly think that⸺”

Gojo’s smile widened, clearly enjoying your reaction. He gently took your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. His eyes had this sultry expression to them, one that you didn’t need to ponder more than one second to know had no good intentions. 

With that, he released your hand, leaving you standing there, your heart pounding and your cheeks aflame.

Gojo ⸺ 1, You ⸺ 1. 

Choso crossed his arms, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Mother, why are we departing a week earlier than the rest of the ton?”

The carriage rocked gently, the luggage rattling with the motion. You slumped in your seat, weary from the long hours of travel, your thoughts drifting to the comfort of a soft, fluffy bed. Your mother, noticing the beads of sweat forming on your brow, handed you a handkerchief before turning to respond to Choso. “Well, my dear, your sister has caught the eye of Lord Gojo, and his mother has personally invited us to arrive early so that we may become better acquainted.”

Your eldest brother frowned, while Yuji stared vacantly out the carriage window, enraptured by the sheep present on the farm you were passing. “But why should we do so?” Choso pressed, his tone firm. “It is not as though Sister is lacking in suitors. Why should we entertain Lord Gojo’s interest above all others?”

Even in your heat-induced lightheadedness, your attention was drawn to Choso’s defense of you. A flicker of hope ignited in your chest; as the viscount, Choso held considerable authority over your mother, and he could potentially influence the matrimonial decisions made on your behalf.

“Lord Gojo is the most eligible bachelor of the season,” your mother insisted. “We would be foolish not to seize such an opportunity.”

Choso retorted quickly, “And Sister is the most eligible lady of the season. She is the diamond. If Lord Gojo’s eligibility rests on his title, would we not do better to pursue a match with Duke Nanami?”

You silently cheered Choso on, hoping he might sway your mother’s mind away from the ridiculous notion of a match between you and Gojo.

But your mother was not easily deterred. “I am quite set on Lord Gojo, Choso,” she said, her tone brooking no argument. “Your sister seems to have formed a rapport with him, and this is about more than just titles. We must also consider her inclinations.”

Both your mother and Choso turned their expectant gazes upon you, awaiting your response. Flustered and unwilling to directly oppose your mother, you swallowed nervously and nodded. “Whatever you think best, Mother.”

The remainder of the ride was marked by the satisfied smile on Lady Itadori’s face and the glowers⸺yet paired with concerned glances⸺from Choso.

The slowing of the carriage and its turn onto a smooth pathway roused you from the gentle lull of travel. You blinked your eyes open and glanced outside. A magnificent flower bed greeted you, a sea of blues ranging from the palest sky hues to deep indigo. But what truly stole your breath was the manor itself⸺more a castle than a mere country home. Its grandiose structure rivaled Buckingham Palace in regality, with elegant blue spires and stately beige stone walls that seemed to stretch towards the heavens.

The carriage came to a complete halt at the base of a grand staircase, where Duchess Gojo stood waiting, surrounded by footmen and maids all dressed in coordinated baby blue livery. As the carriage door was opened, you, your mother, Choso, and Yuji stepped out into the warm afternoon air.

“Lady Itadori!” Duchess Gojo descended the stairs gracefully, her arms extended in greeting. Your mother met her with an equally warm embrace.

“Your Grace,” your mother replied fondly, her face lighting up with familiarity. The duchess then turned her gaze towards you, her smile gracious and welcoming.

“And this must be our diamond,” Duchess Gojo said warmly, her eyes twinkling.

You offered her a polite smile and curtsied. “Miss Itadori, Your Grace. I am deeply honored by your hospitality.”

She waved off your formality with a flick of her hand. “The pleasure is entirely ours, my dear. We are delighted to have you with us, and I do hope that you and my son will find ample time to get better acquainted before the house party.”

You returned her smile, though unease stirred within you. “Of course, Your Grace.”

Choso and Yuji introduced themselves with the same practiced politeness, and after the formalities were concluded, the duchess clapped her hands together. “Come now, let us take tea. You must be quite fatigued from your journey. I shall have the staff see to your rooms so you may rest after.” She directed the servants to unload the luggage from the carriages and then motioned for you all to follow her into the manor. “To the drawing room!”

As you crossed the threshold into the manor, you were struck by the sheer opulence surrounding you. The high ceilings were adorned with intricate gold and blue detailing, and the walls were lined with endless portraits of the Gojo family. Your gaze was momentarily drawn to a portrait of Lord Gojo himself. The artist had rendered his eyes in a cold, oceanic blue—quite unlike the electric blue intensity they held in person. The painting failed to capture the vitality, and perhaps the insufferable smugness, that characterized his gaze.

You quickly looked away before anyone could notice your lingering stare, hurrying to catch up with your family as you reached a grand set of double doors. Footmen stood at attention as Duchess Gojo led you into a drawing room, elegantly appointed with plush furnishings and laden with trays of sweets.

“Please, make yourselves comfortable,” the duchess urged, gesturing towards the seating. She and your mother settled at a small table near the door, while you and your siblings gravitated toward the couches in the center of the room, where a tempting array of desserts awaited. As you sat down, maids swiftly arranged teacups and began pouring the tea. Yuji and Choso took seats across from you, their expressions reflecting varying degrees of interest—or lack thereof—in the proceedings.

“So, Miss Itadori,” You looked across the room to look at the duchess, who was leaning further to grab at her teacup and take a sip. “How do you find this season?”

“I find the suitors of this season very pleasing and kind, Your Grace,” you sat up fully, placing the scone you were eating down to fully face the duchess. “It has been a very extravagant season; I hope to continue my search to find a suitable match for myself.” Duchess Gojo nodded. “An admirable pursuit, of course. Is a love match what you are searching for?”

Her question hung in the air, and in that instant, you felt the weight of every gaze in the room fall upon you. The most searing of them all, though, was your mother's. You could feel it like a prickling heat against your skin, a silent reminder of the expectations that had been laid out before you long ago.

A love match. The words echoed in your mind, each syllable twisting into a knot of uncertainty. The very idea of love seemed foreign to you—elusive, abstract, something that belonged in novels rather than in the practical world of arranged marriages and alliances. Love was not what you had been taught to seek. No, your upbringing had been grounded in duty, decorum, and the quiet understanding that marriage was a contract, a union of convenience rather than passion.

But how could you say that aloud? How could you tell the duchess—tell anyone—that your dreams did not include the fiery passion of a love match, but rather the comfort of a peaceful arrangement? Your throat tightened, and the words that had once seemed so simple lodged themselves in the back of your mouth, refusing to emerge.

Your mother’s eyes bore into you, filled with unspoken expectations. You knew what she wanted to hear: that you were pursuing love, that you were open to it, that you were the ideal picture of a hopeful young lady seeking her romantic equal. But that wasn’t your truth. Your truth was more complicated, filled with desires for stability, understanding, and a life unburdened by the chaos that love so often seemed to bring.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the beat almost deafening in the sudden silence of the room. What were you supposed to say? How could you balance the delicate line between honesty and propriety?

Your lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, you swallowed hard, the dryness in your throat making it nearly impossible to find your voice. The tension swirled within you, an unrelenting force that made you wish you could simply disappear. What if they could see through you? What if, with one wrong word, they uncovered the truth of what you really wanted—a marriage that was practical, peaceful, and devoid of the complications that came with love?

But that wasn’t something you could admit. Not here. Not now.

You forced a polite smile, hoping it hid the whirlwind of thoughts racing through your mind.

Before the weight of the room could settle further, the heavy double doors swung open with a soft yet deliberate creak. Every head turned in unison, and the air seemed to shift as your savior, Satoru Gojo made his entrance.

His attire was impeccable—a finely tailored waistcoat of deep blue, embroidered with silver thread that caught the light just so, paired with polished boots that gleamed as if they had never touched the ground. Yet, despite the formal attire, there was an air of disarming casualness about him, a kind of effortless elegance that made the room's grandeur seem almost insignificant by comparison.

His damp hair, still tousled from what must have been a recent bath, added an edge to his otherwise polished appearance. Droplets of water shimmered at the tips of his white locks, catching the light as he ran a hand through them. The scent of his cologne, rich and intoxicating, seemed to announce his arrival to you even before he spoke.

He strolled in with an air of ease. “It seems that our guests are finally here!” He moved with an easy grace, crossing the room in a few long strides, bowing slightly to the duchess and your mother before turning his attention to you. His gaze lingered on you for just a moment longer than necessary, a playful glint in his eyes as if he could sense the internal battle you had been fighting mere seconds ago.

“Miss Itadori,” he greeted you with a smile that could have melted the iciest of hearts, “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long.”

Your mother’s eyes lit up at the sight of him. “Ah, Satoru! Come, sit with us.” She motioned to the spot next to you with enthusiasm. “Why don’t you and Miss Itadori sit together?”

Choso’s sharp gaze followed him with a hint of suspicion, but he made no objection as Gojo accepted the invitation, seating himself beside you with an infuriatingly confident smile. Yuji and Choso remained on the opposite couch, observing the scene with varying degrees of curiosity and caution.

“Well then,” Gojo began, grabbing an obscene amount of scones to heap on his plate, “I was just at the 

archery range earlier today. Quite the exhilarating sport. I find it sharpens the mind as much as the aim.”

Yuji, ever the admirer of feats of physical skill, leaned forward with interest. “Archery, my lord? That sounds remarkable! I must admit, I’ve always found it to be one of the noblest of pursuits.”

Gojo leaned back into the couch, resting one arm casually behind you on the backrest, his posture the very picture of relaxed confidence. He smiled at Yuji’s enthusiasm and continued, “Archery has long been a favored pastime of mine. It requires precision, patience, and an understanding of balance—qualities I find both necessary and rewarding. I've dedicated many years to perfecting my skill with the bow.”

He paused, allowing a slight, reflective smile to touch his lips. “In fact, just last month, I competed in the annual tournament at Her Majesty’s estate and managed to hit the bullseye in every round. Some of the other competitors remarked that it was almost unnatural, but I assure you, it is merely the result of countless hours spent at the range.”

Yuji’s eyes widened with admiration. “Every round? That’s incredible, Lord Gojo! Your dedication must be unparalleled.”

Gojo shrugged with mock humility, though his eyes glinted with pride. “It’s all in the discipline, really. Once you understand the rhythm of the draw and the release, it becomes second nature. Of course, the challenge is in maintaining that focus while under pressure. But I’ve found that to be the most exhilarating part—especially when the crowd is watching.”

Yuji nodded fervently, clearly enthralled. “I would love to see you in action, my lord! Perhaps you could give me a few pointers one day.”

Gojo chuckled, his gaze shifting to you for a moment before returning to Yuji. “Ah, I’m sure you’d take it quite well, Yuji. Perhaps we could all visit the range together during your stay here.”

 The nonchalant arrogance in his voice, paired with the image of him lording his skill over others, irritated you. You couldn’t resist a small quip, your tone light. “Oh, indeed, Lord Gojo. Your accomplishments are so profound that I fear I might believe you are telling tales. Of course, I wonder with all this focus on archery, do you leave any time for pursuits that require a bit more… finesse?”

Gojo’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly as they met yours, his gaze sharp with understanding. Yet, rather than take offense, he allowed a playful smirk to curl on his lips, his voice laced with teasing intent. “Ah, Miss Itadori, archery indeed requires finesse, I assure you. But perhaps you’d care to test that claim yourself? I’d be more than happy to provide a demonstration.”

As he leaned in closer, you found yourself all too aware of his presence. The scent of his cologne, a warm and intoxicating blend of vanilla and tobacco, filled the air between you, making it difficult to maintain your composure. His face hovered just near enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath as he spoke.

“In fact,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone, “I’d wager that with a little practice, you might find yourself hitting the mark with more than just words.”

His proximity made your heart skip a beat, and you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. Despite your resolve to remain composed, the effect of his closeness and the quiet intensity in his voice left you momentarily at a loss for words.

Choso, sitting across from you, gave Gojo a sharp look. Meanwhile, Yuji was practically beaming at the prospect of an archery lesson from the lord himself.

You inhaled sharply, trying to steady yourself. “Perhaps,” you replied, your voice more controlled than you expected, though there was still a slight quiver in it. “But I’ve found that words can be just as powerful, if not more so.”

Gojo smirked, his gaze lingering on your face as if savoring the moment. The challenge in his eyes was unmistakable, and you could feel the weight of it, pressing against your own resolve. But you wouldn’t allow him to see just how much he affected you—at least, not yet. 

Despite the warmth in your cheeks and the flutter in your chest, you held his gaze, meeting his playful intensity with your own determined calm.

However, your mother’s voice broke through the spell. “Oh, Your Grace, might we have a tour of the manor sometime?”

Duchess Gojo, clearly delighted to show off her home, nodded eagerly. “Of course! There is a pavilion overlooking our garden where we can play pall-mall, and the library is quite extensive.” Your interest piqued at the mention of the library, and you made yourself a mental note to explore where it was.

Then she turned her gaze towards you, her expression growing more conspiratorial. “And as for Miss Itadori, Satoru has promised to give her a personal tour of the grounds tomorrow after she takes rest today.”

You stiffened at the suggestion, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw Gojo lean in slightly, his mischievous grin widening as he whispered, “I’ll be sure to make it… thorough.”

You couldn’t sleep.

Restless thoughts kept you tossing and turning, denying you any hope of finding solace in slumber. The events of the day had left you drained, and after the conversation in the drawing room, you had collapsed into the plush, inviting bed. Sleep had claimed you almost instantly. But now, in the dark silence of the night, you awoke with a start, your mind refusing to quiet. No matter how you tried, you couldn’t escape the whirlwind of thoughts that stirred within you.

The prospect of the coming days loomed over you, a storm of anxiety brewing. Spending time with Gojo, of all people? Your mother’s insistent push for this potential marriage was unbearable. How could you possibly tell her that you despised the man? The mere thought of being bound to him in matrimony was a nightmare⸺marriage itself was daunting enough, but to an arrogant, loquacious, and insufferably self-assured man like him? It would be nothing short of Hell on earth.

With a frustrated sigh, you rose from bed and rubbed your face, trying to dispel the fog of sleeplessness. Perhaps a visit to the manor’s library⸺the one mentioned during tea⸺would offer some distraction. Grabbing a lantern, you slipped out of your room, treading softly down the stairs and into the main hallway. You moved with the caution of a thief; your mother would surely not approve of your nocturnal wanderings. Her voice echoed in your mind, sharp and reprimanding: “Good things never happen in the dead of night!”

As you opened the library’s grand doors, a soothing fragrance enveloped you⸺the scent of aged paper mingled with a hint of vanilla, a fragrance unique to this room. But what truly took your breath away was the sheer size of the library.

Bookshelves lined the walls, rising two stories high, creating a space that could easily have served as a grand ballroom. Cozy nooks beckoned you to sit, while further exploration revealed tables and armchairs tucked away behind towering shelves. It was a bibliophile’s paradise.

Your eyes roved over the multitude of volumes: ancient ledgers, personal family records, scholarly works on politics, astronomy, and the sciences. Though you did not often indulge in scientific pursuits, you found them fascinating whenever the opportunity arose. One book in particular caught your eye:

Observations on the Planet Venus.

Drawn to the back of the library, you found a large window offering a stunning view of the garden and pavilion, bathed in starlight. You couldn’t resist the allure of the table beside it, where you settled in and began to read.

“The planet Venus is an object that has long engaged my particular attention. A series of observations upon it, which I began in April, 1777, has been continued down to the present time…”

Time slipped away as you became engrossed in the text, the lantern’s light flickering softly as you pored over the meticulous observations and calculations. Your hands were soon stained with ink, evidence of the notes you had been feverishly jotting down on scraps of parchment you had found in a supply cabinet. A good hour or two had passed before you finally leaned back, stretching your tired muscles. You rested your head on your arms, intending to close your eyes for just a moment. Soon, you found that your sleepy brain forced you to reflect and muse upon your life, as a mind often does at three.

What a pity it was that you couldn’t bear the thought of marrying Gojo. If only he were different, you might have lived in this manor, with its perfect library, forever. You could imagine it: waking in the mornings in your fluffy bed, sharing the latest discoveries in astronomy and medicine with your handsome husband…

Truly, what a pity. Your sleep-deprived mind began to conjure an image of this imagined husband—tall, nearly Gojo’s height, with kind eyes and lips that would kiss you gently awake each morning (unlike Gojo’s snark). You envisioned banter over breakfast, late-night rendezvous in the library, and tender embraces in bed…

Before you could delve deeper into your fantasy, the sound of footsteps jolted you back to reality. The tread was deliberate, too similar to your mother’s for comfort, and panic flared within you. Your mind, already muddled with exhaustion, conjured the worst possible scenario—your mother finding you here, in the library where you had no business being at this hour.

Memories of her discovering forbidden books in your childhood flashed before your eyes, and your breath quickened in fear. Rising as quietly as you could, you pressed your hands over your mouth to stifle any sound, creeping toward a bookshelf to hide. But the footsteps drew closer, relentless in their pursuit. You felt like prey, cornered and desperate.

Getting out of your chair as quietly as you could, you squeezed your eyes shut and put both of your hands over your mouth so you didn’t start making audible gasps that would let the person know where you were immediately. Softly⸺but panickedly⸺walking towards a bookshelf, you hid as you traced the footsteps getting closer and closer to you. You tried to walk away from the sound, but it seemed like the person was listening intently for your movements. You couldn’t help but think you were like prey, cornered and desperate.

However, it was all for naught; your heart sank as you realized you had ended up in an alley of bookshelves that were up against the wall, essentially creating a dead end for you. The steps got closer and closer, and you drew yourself closer and closer to the wall. Your eyes was still shut, but you could hear the steps around the corner, coming closer and closer. 

The footsteps were merely a few feet away from you, and in a moment of sheer panic, you blurted out, “I am sorry, Mother⸺”

“Excuse me,” came a voice that was decidedly not your mother’s. Your eyes flew open to find none other than Gojo, his blue eyes alight with offense. “Do I resemble your mother in any way?”

You blinked, struggling to process the sight before you. He was holding a quill, ink, and a stack of notebooks that resembled the ledgers you had seen earlier, along with a plate of scones that looked absurdly sugary.

“I—” you stammered, taking a sharp breath to compose yourself and paused, looking at Gojo⸺who was shooting you a petulant frown⸺take a big bite of his scone. “Your tread was uncannily similar.”

He paused, chewing on a scone with a sulky expression, while you averted your gaze in embarrassment.

When he finished chewing, he cleared his throat. “You must possess rather poor hearing to mistake a man of my stature for a lady.”

You shrugged, still flustered. “Perhaps you have an unusually light step.”

An awkward silence settled between you as Gojo took another loud bite of his scone. You hastened to break it. “It is quite late; I must take my leave. Good night, my lord.”

You bowed your head slightly and moved to leave, but before you could slip past him, he blocked your path, suspicion narrowing his gaze. “What business do you have in the Gojo library at this hour?”

“Nothing of import,” you squeaked.

At the not-very-innocuous tone in your voice, his eyes narrowed further. “Your tone suggests otherwise.” He leaned in, his gaze sweeping over you with exaggerated scrutiny. Noticing the ink stains on your hands, he quipped, “Were you tampering with important records?”

Your heart raced, knowing that he wouldn’t be entirely wrong to suspect you⸺what else would a lady be doing in a library at this hour? It was a no-win situation: confess to reading a book and risk your mother’s wrath, or be accused of something far more serious.

It was best to come clean. “I was merely reading a book,” you confessed. “I can show you precisely where I sat and what I was doing.”

Gojo’s expression softened, but he quickly continued his theatrical suspicion and hmmphed. “Of course. I must be certain that no mischief has been afoot.”

You led him back to the table where you had been reading. He sat across from you, depositing his supplies onto the table with a flourish and leaned back, crossing his arms. Ever the investigator, he watched as you retrieved the book. It bore no resemblance to the Gojo ledgers, which had the telltale blue cover and Gojo insignia, which consisted of six eyes. 

Upon seeing this, he nodded in acknowledgment. “You are exonerated.”

At that, you sighed and clutched your chest. For a moment, you contemplated pleading with Gojo to keep your late library visit secret from your mother but you shot the idea down for two reasons. First, you would never lower yourself to plead with Gojo, and second, Gojo⸺ever the insufferable man⸺would definitely make sure to mention it to your mother and further exacerbate the issue. 

As he began arranging his ink bottles and quills, preparing to work on his ledgers, you took a moment to observe him. He was dressed in casual attire, loose-fitting trousers and a white shirt with several buttons undone, revealing a hint of his chest. Slut.

It took you a moment to realize that he was settling in at your table. You frowned. “I beg your pardon, but this is my spot.”

Gojo looked up from his work, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “My dear, this is my library. Thus, it is my spot.”

You opened your mouth to retort, then closed it in frustration. He was right, after all. The entire manor was his. Your silence seemed to amuse him, as he returned to his ledgers with a smug smile.

Now, you didn’t really know what to do⸺should you go back to your room, or should you stay and continue reading the book? In your indecision, you continued to flip through the pages of the book, particularly because you wanted to finish the conclusion section before going to bed. But you soon felt his gaze upon you, the sound of his quill slowing down.

You didn’t look up. “Might I suggest you cease staring at me? It is quite improper.” “What? Why would I do so? To watch you peruse a tedious romance novel?”

“This is a book on the state of the art of astronomy.” 

“Indeed? I confess, I am surprised.”

Your irritation flared and you whipped your head up to glare at Gojo. “Whatever do you mean by that?”

“I was under the impression that young ladies’ interests lie solely in matters of the heart.”

“So, in addition to gossiping, you are also prone to narrow-minded assumptions?”

Gojo scoffed. “Narrow-minded? It is a simple observation. Both men and women often indulge in fanciful notions of love.”

You scoffed. “Ah, so you hold yourself above other men. What are you, God?”

Gojo ignored your remark. “Those who read such frivolities are seldom engaged in serious thought or the appreciation of true art.”

“Romance allows one to experience love and joy. Does the prospect of happiness through art truly horrify you?” You stood, glaring at him. “Unlike you, my lord, ladies such as myself cannot frequent dubious establishments such as brothels to seek out lovers. Our reputations and futures are at stake.” Gojo began to respond, but you cut him off. “To deny women the solace of love is cruel. It is our only refuge in a world that forces us into unwanted marriages!”

When you were done ranting to Gojo, you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath in. Truly, this man could bother you like no other; only your siblings have caused this much heat on your face due to anger. The only sounds in the library was your rushed breathing, from anger.

Gojo scoffed. “You truly think too much.”

You offered a sharp scoff. "And you, far too little. Even Sukuna Jr. possesses more emotional intelligence than you."

"Do not compare me to that wretched creature," Gojo retorted.

You gasped in disbelief. "How dare you speak of Kuna in such a manner!"

"Then perhaps you should keep him from fouling the air around me!" he snapped.

A sly smile crept across your lips. "He merely knows whom to guard me against."

At reference of That Night, Gojo sighs exhaustedly. “Do you find trouble with the judgments I made that night? None of that was meant for you.”

“Are you quite serious?” You were in disbelief. Does he truly feel no remorse? Frustrated, you ran a hand over your face. “Your words may not have been intended for me, but they were no less cutting. I cannot abide such arrogance, my lord.”

Gojo leaned back, crossing his arms with an air of indifference. “Arrogance or simply honesty? I merely spoke the truth as I see it.”

“Your so-called truth is nothing more than disdain wrapped in wit,” you snapped, feeling your temper rise again. “You speak as though your opinions are infallible, as if you alone have the right to pass judgment on others.”

“I only say what others are too afraid to voice,” he retorted, his tone cool. “If that makes me arrogant, then so be it. But I will not apologize for it.”

“Of course not,” you said bitterly. “An apology would require some measure of humility, and that is something you clearly lack.”

Gojo’s eyes narrowed, his voice growing more clipped. “I fail to see why my opinions should trouble you so much. Perhaps you are simply too sensitive.”

Your anger flared at his dismissive tone. “Or perhaps you are too blind to see the harm your words cause. You claim to be honest, but what you truly are is cruel.”

“Cruel?” Gojo’s voice was sharp now, his composure slipping. “For speaking the truth? For refusing to coddle those who cannot handle it?”

“For refusing to consider the feelings of others!” you countered, your voice rising in frustration. “Not everything is a game or a joke, my lord. Your words have consequences, whether you acknowledge them or not.”

A tense silence fell between you, each of you locked in a stubborn glare, neither willing to yield. Finally, you shook your head, the weight of your frustration pressing down on you. “I cannot do this,” you muttered, turning away. “You are utterly impossible.”

You began to walk away, but Gojo’s voice cut through the silence. “Running away so soon?” There was a hint of something in his tone⸺something almost like disappointment⸺but you dismissed it.

You paused, glancing back at him with a hardened expression. “There is no point in continuing this conversation. You refuse to see reason, and I refuse to waste any more of my time on you.”

Without waiting for a reply, you turned on your heel and left the library, your heart pounding with irritation and anger. As the door closed behind you, you couldn’t shake the feeling of heaviness in your chest. 

prev. the aftermath | next. the game

general masterlist | series masterlist

a/n gojo the type to hit ur g spot every ti---WHAT WHO SAID THAT?

anyways yes we r getting (sort of) freaky in the next chapter (gojo busts in his pants seeing reader's ankles /j)

gojo when reader thought he was her mama

also tysm for all the asks, and comments, and love you guys have shown me. super motivating that you guys are enjoying the story and propels me to write more <3

comment, reblog, and send in an ask to let me know ur thots :3 memes are also appreciated <3

TAGLIST

@ncitygreen @backstagepaige @serinatly100986 @nappingmoon @coochellati

@extremelyexh4usted @yoshisaurmuchakoopas @nixiepixee @generalstephkenobi @vernasce-blogs

@byhuenii @geniejunn @a-girl-with-thoughts @dazedin2d @chuuqxs

@megumiivs @anthastudios @arranacosmist @arishaxml @jingyuun

@undercooked-chaos-noodle @jaegersity @camzzn @bluelai @1sweetheart1

@hyori2 @babyblue0t7 @iwanttoberich420 @rosso-seta @ladytamayolover

@kalulakunundrum @r0ckst4rjk @mo0sin @angelina7890 @jaeminaur

@yamiyas @cherry-blossoms-in-red @r3inae @lagataprrr @sasfransisco

@fortunatelyfurrygiver @aurora-tiny @gojonegs @luna-v-roiya @xxemmarldxx

@soobssedwithyourex @manyno @samkysnks @stefnarda @bbqsauceonmytitties2

[tinycoffeeroom]

you and i | lando norris

face claim: bela juliana ♡

request: here !

pairing: lando norris x leclerc!reader

requested: Can I request a social media AU leclerc reader x lando based off of the song ‘You and I’ by Rita Ora Thanks so muchhhhh

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liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 679,154 others

y/nleclerc oh to be the girl someone writes love stories about

fan I WILL!!!!! give me 10 minutes and garage band i can pull it off!!! ♥️ y/nleclerc

alexandrasaintmleux every love song is about you gorgeous girl x ↳ y/nleclerc when are you gonna stop pretending you like my brother and just date me instead x ↳ charles_leclerc ?? rude.

landonorris d4vd is so good! can't wait for his show in london :)

lewishamilton pipe is right there 😉 ↳ y/nleclerc that is NOT a love song sir lewis hamilton!!!! ↳ charles_leclerc back off grandpa i will put sand in your petrol tank ↳ lewishamilton woah calm down there bud i was joking i promise ↳ y/nleclerc play nice boys ↳ charles_leclerc he started it ↳ y/nleclerc well stop, i dont want ferrari in my dm's telling me y'all are throwing hands on the grid ↳ georgerussell63 if they do, can someone film it? ↳ y/nleclerc ffs

carmenmmundt prettiest girl in the whole wide world 🩷 ↳ y/nleclerc MWAH MWAH MWAH love you carm 💜

francisca.c.gomes getting ed sheeran on the case rn ↳ y/nleclerc i still bawl my eyes out to cold coffee nearly daily ↳ pierregasly really y/n? ed sheeran? ↳ y/nleclerc ok mr listens to crazy frog when he thinks no one can hear

fan lando being the only one y/n airs everytime ☠️ ↳ fan feel bad for him at this point 😭 ↳ fan y/n you want a lover boy, he is RIGHT THERE

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y/nleclerc uploaded 3 pictures to their story

[caption: y/nnies song recs of the day] replies:

charles_leclerc need to find you a boyfriend immediately so you'll stop posting sappy songs on ig ↳ y/nleclerc as long as its not one of your colleagues ↳ charles_leclerc whats wrong with them? :((( ↳ y/nleclerc i hear enough about cars from you i dont need it from them too

landonorris iris is a certified BANGER

heidiberger wanna go get coffee?? i need you to give me new songs for my danny playlist ↳ y/nleclerc y'all are so gross but yesssss ↳ heidiberger i think you misspelt cute 😋

fan y/n can i recommend turning page by sleeping at last? i'm not sure if you have it on your playlist already ❤️ ↳ y/nleclerc team edward FOR LIFE!!!! was one of the songs that got me into my lover girl era ❤️❤️

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liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 607,285 others

y/nleclerc garden party with my favourite leclerc saint mleux ❤️

charles_leclerc wow i see how it is... ↳ y/nleclerc not my fault your son is cuter than you ↳ oscarpiastri aw i knew you thought i was cute 🥰🥰 ↳ y/nleclerc the cutest piastri-leclerc! come round for tea soon, i miss my nephew x ↳ oscarpiastri will you make that pasta dish again? ↳ y/nleclerc i will just for you! ↳ landonorris osc save some for me please ↳ oscarpiastri get your own y/n this ones mine ↳ landonorris just you wait

fan the adoption is going strong i see ↳ fan i think y/ns the biggest instigator for it 😭

alexandrasaintmleux am i your favourite saint mleux? 🥺 ↳ y/nleclerc always x

landonorris leo!! miss my little man ↳ fan day 2947 of y/n airing lando ↳ fan leave him be, his little crush is cute

arthurleclerc if leo's your favourite leclerc saint mleux, am i your favourite leclerc? ↳ y/nleclerc not even close, that spot is for maman only ↳ leclerc_pascale 🥰🥰

fan where's the dress from?? its so gorgeous!! ↳ y/nleclerc it's from a little boutique in monaco! let me see if i can find some alternatives online 💜 ↳ fan my queen thank you!!!

fan oh to be at a garden party with the leclercs...

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charles_leclerc uploaded to their story

replies:

fan you and alex are so cute ↳ charles_leclerc 😉🤫 ↳ fan what does that mean im scared

fan alex was wearing a floor length dress,, whomstdve is THAT mr leclerc?

arthurleclerc i don't like the way he was looking at her ↳ charles_leclerc don't you dare say anything ↳ arthurleclerc you want.. lando???? to date our sister ↳ charles_leclerc oh he's absolutely smitten, it's cute

y/nleclerc is... is that me and lando? ↳ charles_leclerc you guys looked so cute i couldn't help it ↳ y/nleclerc stalker alert!!! ↳ charles_leclerc deflect all you want, i know you liiiike him ↳ y/nleclerc 🙄🙄

landonorris mate can you send me this please? ↳ charles_leclerc yeah sure 😉

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liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 679,253 others

y/nleclerc i believe the kids call it serving cunt

alexandrasaintmleux most gorgeous girl in the whole wide world 🩷 ↳ y/nleclerc come give me a kiss xx

charles_leclerc ??!!!?!?!?!???!!!! text me rn!! ↳ y/nleclerc i'm busy ↳ charles_leclerc i have a key to your flat, i'm not afraid to use it ↳ y/nleclerc damn ok so needy

arthurleclerc and who is that. ↳ y/nleclerc why do you wanna know? ↳ arthurleclerc oh god its Him isn't it? ↳ y/nleclerc you say that like its a bad thing 😭 ↳ arthurleclerc it is

fan UMMM??? 3rd pic???? deets please miss y/n ↳ y/nleclerc if all goes well, i'll give you all a full debrief

fan MOTHERRRRRRRRRRR

fan never mind the man DATE ME!!!! ↳ alexandrasaintmleux ^^ ↳ lilymhe ^^ ↳ lilyzneimer ^^ ↳ alexalbon charles stop bringing your sister to races i dont know if i can fight PLEASE ↳ y/nleclerc you would lose with those lanky arms wimp

fan poor lando in the likes... watching the girl he fancies go on a date with someone else ↳ fan how do you know he fancies her? ↳ fan he's constantly in her comments even if she airs him, he gets the goo goo eyes whenever she's near and don't even get me started on hungary 2022 ↳ fan ... please continue ↳ fan ok SO! she was in the paddock before the race and some guy came up to her and was asking her for a photo and then he asked her on a date ??? like dude use critical thinking skills for one second ... lando was across the paddock with daniel and there's a photo of him somewhere staring DAGGERS into this mans soul... charles came over and shooed the man away and lando literally deflated.. i'll see if i can find the photos ↳ fan tag me in them please ↳ fan me too! ↳ fan me three!! ↳ charles_leclerc me four!! ↳ fan CHARLES???

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y/nleclerc uploaded to their story

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liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 708,256 others

y/nleclerc flowers from lover (?) boy :)

fan oh she's down Bad ♥️ y/nleclerc

fan guys dont call me delusional but i think she's dating a driver ↳ fan charles would burn the world down before he would let that happen ↳ fan i gotta say... they have a point, remember when they did that tiktok where they asked drivers who they would introduce their sisters to on the grid and charles said lando immediately ↳ fan and then they did the f2 gang and arthur threatened to kamikaze anyone who tried to go near y/n? ↳ fan going off the comments i'm putting 2 and 2 together and getting 4 ↳ y/nleclerc ironic ↳ fan Y/N??????

fan pls show us lover boy its been 84 years i am begging you ↳ y/nleclerc it's been like 3 months silly but soon :)

charles_leclerc i know i should feel sick seeing you so happy but it's nice to see you be treated how you deserve ↳ y/nleclerc charlie 🥺 ↳ alexandrasaintmleux he's giggling and kicking his feet rn ↳ charles_leclerc wow ↳ fan ik he's picked out a suit for the imaginary wedding ↳ charles_leclerc i reject that statement ↳ alexandrasaintmleux it's bookmarked on his laptop

landonorris pretty flowers! ↳ y/nleclerc thank you :)

fan ???!!!!! SHE REPLIED TO LANDO???? ↳ fan i know he's squealing rn ↳ fan adding it to my "y/nlando dating REAL" spreadsheet ↳ fan omg share the link ↳ charles_leclerc yeah share the link ↳ fan this feels like confirmation but we all know charles lives for the drama

leclerc_pascale don't forget to bring him to the garden party tonight! ↳ fan another one? ↳ y/nleclerc we do them quite often in summer!! it's an excuse to drink champagne at 3 in the afternoon ↳ fan ur so real for that

carmenmmundt lover boy 😔 that should be me ↳ y/nleclerc i've got two hands for a reason babygirl x

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y/nleclerc uploaded 3 pictures to their story

[caption 3: lover boy (no ? this time)] replies:

landonorris lover girl ❤️ ↳ y/nleclerc lover boy ❤️

charles_leclerc photo creds? ↳ y/nleclerc nope!

alexandrasaintmleux its not too late to run away with me x ↳ y/nleclerc meet me at the port at midnight, we can steal charles' boat xx ↳ alexandrasaintmleux y/n it's charles i will bomb the port. ↳ y/nleclerc oh you're Crazy crazy ↳ alexandrasaintmleux only for her ↳ y/nleclerc gross... put my gf back on the phone

fan the sign 🥹 we need to know all the deets ↳ y/nleclerc all i will say is he gave me a mixtape :))))) ↳ fan A MIXTAPE??? LIKE A PHYSICAL MIXTAPE??? oh we stan

fan WHO !!! IS !!! LOVER BOY !!! ↳ y/nleclerc all will be revealed soon ;)

arthurleclerc maybe he has rights ↳ y/nleclerc shush you love him ↳ arthurleclerc thats before he started fancying 🤢 you 🤢

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liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 789,502 others

y/nleclerc he may not be able to write me love songs, but his voice is my favourite melody ❤️

fan we've officially lost her boys 💔💔

carmenmmundt just looked at george and sighed ↳ georgerussell63 ?? why am i catching strays?? ↳ lilymhe me with alex ↳ alexalbon what he say fuck me for?

fan lover girl x lover boy era <333333 ♥️ y/nleclerc

fan guys that's lando's necklace i'm like 99.9% sure ↳ fan you're onto something there lemme look at pap pics from the last race!

fan guys the flowers are orange... papaya even...

landonorris the guy sure likes his bouquets ↳ y/nleclerc yeah he's a real romantic 😋 ↳ fan WHERE'S THE FAN WITH THE SPREADSHEET ↳ fan I'M HERE !!!!! typing as fast as my fingers can handle!!!!

alexandrasaintmleux just so you know charles is crying at the caption ↳ y/nleclerc big softie x ↳ charles_leclerc i just have a lot of feelings :(((((

arthurleclerc i will allow him to live another day ↳ y/nleclerc i'm sure he's shivering his timbers rn ↳ arthurleclerc >:((((

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👤 landonorris liked by landonorris, alexandrasaintmleux and 903,185 others

y/nleclerc lover boy x

fan miss rabbit has fainted

fan spreadsheet fan we just got a HUGE update ↳ fan i'm gonna break my laptop in 2 with my bare hands

charles_leclerc :))))) my scheme worked ↳ y/nleclerc i still hate when you do that shit ↳ alexandrasaintmleux same 🙄

landonorris lover girl x ♥️ y/nleclerc

landonorris so gorgeous, i love the way you look tonight xx ↳ y/nleclerc you said the same thing the night we danced together 🥺 ↳ landonorris i meant it then and i mean it now x

mclaren scuderiaferrari we stole your girl xx ↳ scuderiaferrari you and your ugly colours can get BACK 🤺🤺🤺 ↳ fan the girls are fighting!! ↳ mclaren UGLY COLOURS??? oh its on

carlossainz55 now he'll stop blowing up my phone about you ↳ landonorris nah now i can just annoy you about how cute my GIRLFRIEND is ↳ oscarpiastri you've been dying to say that, haven't you? ↳ landonorris mate i thought i was going to die

fan sorry can we circle back around to charles saying his scheme worked??? ↳ fan yeah charles_leclerc spill. ↳ charles_leclerc a magician never reveals his tricks ↳ y/nleclerc he forced me and lando to talk at the garden party and then pretended to get a phone call from ferrari so he could play eternal flame over the speakers ↳ charles_leclerc y/n :(((( ↳ y/nleclerc you used my love song weakness against me, you don't get to have secrets

alexandrasaintmleux can't believe he stole my girl :( ↳ y/nleclerc you know my heart is always yours x ↳ landonorris WOMP WOMP i didn't pine for years to share

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a/n: thank you for requesting!! i think i've listened to the song about 400 times writing this! needed a lil break from the gote series and this was the perfect thing to get me out of my slump <3

taglist: @golden-hoax

[thepowerofswayze]

demonstration

originally on ao3

based on this post by @fantasylandloser

pairing: art donaldson (challengers, 2024) / afab reader [gender not specified]

word count: 1.9K

warnings & info: 18+, afab reader, college era art AHHH, friends to lovers, first time together, mostly smut, oral sex (reader receiving), art is a munch obviously, reader wears a bra and skirt

summary: Catching Art up on your adventures gets hard when he doesn't get your explanations, or your hand puppet examples. Looks like you just have to show him exactly what went down. Based on this post that i could not stop thinking about. :))

☆

“Oh my god, fuck you!”

Art chuckled from where he stood, watching as you tossed the t-shirt he’d balled up and chucked at you back in his direction. It fell harmlessly to the floor a foot from him, and you glared at him as he snickered, picking it up and putting it away.

You were visiting Art, your close friend from high school, at Stanford. At that moment, you happened to be explaining how an interaction at a party at your university had gone a couple weeks before. Art never really liked listening to you talk about guys- hence, the shirt thrown directly at your face when you’d started describing this particular frat boy to him in detail- but he’d given up complaining a while ago. It was either that or be honest about why he hated it so much, and that was never going to happen. So, he tidied up his room as you explained the lead up, the flirting, the stumbling up the stairs. He fell back parallel to you on the bed as you got to the “good part”, his head by your legs and an arm over his eyes, like he could block out the imagery.

“Anyway, I didn’t think it was a big deal at first, like when we were flirting, but then I was on him, kinda like-” You took a moment to sit up straight, grinning as art groaned and propped himself up on his elbows to see you better. He watched you attempt to mimic the position with your hands, your left hand being the guy you were talking about, your right being you.

To Art, it just looked like you were mashing your hands together. He looked up from your hands to see you raising your eyebrows at him, as if to ask if he was following. “Huh?” He said.

With an exasperated sigh and without another thought, you pushed yourself up on your knees and waddled over to him, swinging a leg over his body and hovering just over his torso. For a moment, Art just watched, bewildered, as you steadied yourself with your hands on either side of his head. He let himself fall back from his elbows, hands sliding up your hips and settling at your waist, catching momentarily on the fabric of your skirt. His fingers peeked just under the hem of your shirt. Your skin tingled where he touched you.

“... Like this,” you said finally, blinking at him for a moment. “Well, uh.” You moved your hands to his chest instead, careful not to push too hard (though with the muscle he’d acquired since he’d started playing tennis for Stanford, you were sure it bothered him much less than you thought). “More like this, I guess.”

Art nodded, quickly licking his lips before asking, “Then?”

You tried not to look at his mouth. “What?”

“Then what did you do?”

It finally hit you then: what the fuck were you doing, climbing all over your best friend to ‘show him’ how you and some guy had been fooling around a couple weeks ago? That would just mean fooling around with him, obviously. That wasn’t really the plan.

But, it was too late for your common sense to kick in now. There you were, your hips hovering over his, not quite touching yet. You watched his eyes dart down to your lips, then drag slowly back up to meet your gaze. You couldn’t wait here and think about what you’d gotten yourself into and how this would change your friendship forever, though you got the feeling he’d let you take as long as you wanted.

Then what did you do?

You steeled yourself, biting your lip and watching his lips part slightly as he tracked the action with his eyes. Then you took that moment to fully sit on his lap.

You could feel his chest expand beneath your hands with his sharp inhale, his eyes snapping down to your hips, then back up to your face.

“This,” you murmured. You’d intended for it to come out cocky, maybe even a little seductive, but you could hear the breathlessness in your own voice. You were trying your best to ignore the growing pressure where your hips met his, though really, it was hopeless. 

Art’s ears were burning a bright shade of pink. The urge to gently nip at them crossed your mind, just for a moment. He cleared his throat. “Then?” His voice was almost a whisper, chest rising and falling unevenly with his nervous breathing. The way he was looking at you, like he wasn’t sure you were real…

Fuck.

You leaned forward, trying not to let your breath stutter at the friction caused by the movement, until your lips hovered just over his. Then you kissed him.

You pressed your lips together gently, lingering for a moment before pulling back by centimeters. His lips chased yours, his grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly, and you were right back on him, lips falling open against each other. A soft sound escaped him as your hips shifted against his, along with a contented sigh from you. You repeated the motion, reveling in the low groan he let out, followed by your name murmured into your mouth.

Art’s lips were soft. And he’d shaved recently, you thought, hands cupping his face. The smooth skin of his cheeks was a stark contrast to the calloused hands he was now raking over your thighs, your skirt pushed up around your hips. You broke away from his lips, kissing down his neck instead, listening to the noises he made whenever you left a mark, whenever you ground against him just right. “Shit,” he gasped. “You’re- You’re sure?”

“Yeah.” You left another kiss just below his ear, before murmuring, “What is it?”

You could feel him all but shudder beneath you. “Fuck,” he groaned, then your name, before he looked you in the eye. You resisted the urge to dive right back in. “Let me eat you out,” he said, suddenly determined, though still flushed and dazed. “Please.”

All you could say was “What?” because, surely, this was one big dream.

“Please.” His hands hadn’t stilled, still rubbing shapes into your thighs, his hips rolling up against yours. “Can I?”

Your entire body was on fire. “Okay, yeah. Yes.”

He wasted no time flipping the both of you over, laying you against the bed so he could kiss down your neck. You barely had a moment to process, your hands moving to tangle in his hair, one of his knees slotted between your legs. He tugged at the bottom of your shirt, prompting you to lift yourself slightly and help him get it off. Your bra came next. “You, too,” you murmured, pulling at his shirt and making him chuckle. He reached behind his head, tugging it off in one swift movement and abandoning it beside your shirt and bra on his freshly cleared floor.

One of his hands slid down your chest from your shoulders, enclosing one of your breasts, the thumb circling your nipple. You bit your lip and sighed, pulling him down for another kiss by the back of his neck.

Art let his hand trail from your chest down the sides of your stomach, then slotted his palm right between your legs, over your underwear. You gasped quietly, pulling away long enough for him to return his lips to your neck, your shoulders, your collar bone. You murmured a couple choice words as he started to move his palm, rubbing at your clit through the fabric. The dulled sensation was almost enough on its own, paired with the kisses he left against your chest. “Arthur,” you whined, tugging at his hair. “Don’t fucking tease me.”

A grin overtook his face at the use of his name, his hands only slowing down, tracing torturously slow circles over you. Art only snickered at your glare before hooking his fingers into the waist band of your underwear, pulling it down and leaving you in your skirt pushed up to your waist. He watched you carefully as he slid further down so that his head was between your legs. His finger only traced a line from your clit to the bottom of your hole before whatever restraint he had was gone, and his mouth was on you.

Art’s tongue flattened against you, the warmth and friction making your head fall back as your eyes fell closed. “Fuck,” you moaned, hands threading into his hair as he answered with an equally obscene noise, muffled against you. ‘Hungry’ didn’t even begin to describe him, his mouth falling into a vague rhythm, eyes closed blissfully, whining into your pussy like it was doing him just as much good as it was you.

You thought about asking him to finger you while he worked, but his tongue prodded at your entrance and almost immediately, words escaped you. You brought one hand up to your face, clasping it over your mouth to muffle your moans, but Art stopped suddenly, watching your face. You whined your confusion, and he reached out to tug at your hand. “I wanna hear you. Let me.”

You blinked at him, chest heaving, and murmured “Alright,” before watching his head dive right back between your thighs, one hand still intertwined with yours. You had no choice but to moan unabashedly, your other hand busy pulling at his hair.  His free hand was wrapped around the outside of your thigh, pushing it in towards his head, so tightly you were sure it couldn’t be comfortable. But there he was, continuing to move his tongue against you like there was nothing else he’d rather do, whining and whimpering like you were his first meal in weeks. “Fuck, Art,” you cried, barely keeping your eyes open so you could watch him move. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

He groaned at that, relenting the pressure of your thighs against his head just long enough to reply: “That’s it, baby, please.” If he had anything else to say, he couldn’t keep himself off of you long enough to finish, already pushing your thighs back against his head, nose bumping against your clit as he bobbed up and down.

It seemed like that was all it took, really. You squeezed his hand and his head embarrassingly tight as you felt yourself tip over the edge, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. Art kept up his rhythm as you cried out his name, your hips rolling against his face. He didn’t stop even when you’d come down, chest heaving, until you basically pushed him off, desperate for a moment of relief.

He kept a hand on your thigh, the other untangling from yours to push his blonde hair out of his eyes and look at you. He was breathing as hard as you were, you noticed. His mouth hung open as he panted, the entire bottom half of his face coated in saliva and your arousal. Fuck, he was pretty like this. “‘S good?”

You shook your head, beckoning him toward you and pulling him down by the back of his neck when he was close enough. “You’re unbelievable,” you murmured, lips against his almost before you were even done speaking. You didn’t mind the stickiness. You pulled back to look at him, then glanced down to the tent in his pants. “Lemme return the favor.”

Art let out a breathless chuckle. “I don’t think I’m gonna last that long,” he said, somewhat embarrassed. “Not if you’re the one touching me. Not after this.” He gestured to the shine still on his face, to your thighs beneath him. Your face burned, and your smile was so wide that your cheeks hurt.

You shrugged. “Lemme try anyway,” you said, before bringing his ear down to your lips, nipping at the lobe gently. “Please?”

He couldn’t say no to you.

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Close To You

♥ masterlist

♥ pairing: oscar piastri x lily zneimer x f!singer!webber!reader

♥ synopsis: as the daughter of mark webber you got to know oscar piastri pretty quick and soon enough the two of you were dating. no one had known that you both were also dating lily, leading everyone to believe the leaked pictures of her and Oscar was evidence he was cheating on you. they couldn’t have been more wrong

♥ smau - fc: gracie abrams - none of the pictures are mine

♥ warnings: swearing and hate comments !!!

♥ a/n: my first poly fic! ty to bestie liz and cleo for hyping me up <3

liked by aussiegrit, oliviarodrigo, taylorswift and 656,305 more

y/n.webber channel that sad energy into a song queen

view comments

user8 hope you're doing well 💛

user3 ilyy

user6 pls shes so unserious 😭

user5 that's so real

user9 wait so did her and her boyfriend break up?

user2 I'm pretty sure. everyone's been speculating it and they haven't been seen together in a long time

user1 is she making a new album ???

user10 liv and tay in the likess 🫶

user7 I still can't believe she's mark's daughter omggg

user12 those family genetics 😍

user2 we love you <3

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by oscarpiastri, oliviarodrigo, and 583,694 more

y/n.webber cut my hair in the way that i've wanted

view comments

user9 change my number and bury my wallet !!!

user8 augusta <3

user12 LOVE

mclarenf1 we'll see you at the GP

y/n.webber <3

user10 shut up y/n is gonna be there?

user6 I thought she had a concert that day?

user1 @/user6 she has one the night before :)

user5 no bc how is she so pretty

user13 oscar in the likes 👀

user7 GORGEOUS

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by y/n.webber, user7, user12 and 502,669 more

f1gossip mark, y/n, and oscar are ready for the australian grand prix

view comments

y/n.webber @/aussiegrit I'm starting to think you like Oscar more than me :(

oscarpiastri he does ❤️

yourusername 🖕

user8 now kiss

user14 enemies to lovers

user4 my favorite australian trio

user1 why'd he have to shave his beard 😔

user9 THE CAT

user2 oscar and mark pookie off

user10 everyone pray for an oscar home race podium

user3 🕯️oscar home race win 🕯️

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by oscarpiastri, aussiegrit, and 703,562 more

y/n.webber date night <3

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user7 I love how she doesn't even have to tell us she's dating oscar because we all just know

user9 THEM WATCHING TANGLED 😭🫶

user3 oscar getting her lilies :')

y/n.webber actually I got him lilies

oscarpiastri 🧡

*liked by original poster*

user4 this is the cutest shit I've ever seen

user1 mark in the likesss looks like oscar has the stamp of approval

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by y/n.webber, aussiegrit, and 750,683 more

oscarpiastri lando crashed our date

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landonorris I did not "crash" your date I just happened to be there.

oscarpiastri as if you didn't follow us

y/n.webber @/landonorris you LITERALLY crashed into the back of my kart

mclarenf1 lando we talked about your internet stalking problem.

user8 PLEASE 💀

user6 why'd they have to call him out like that 😭

user2 the admins are my favorite part of the f1 cinematic universe

-A Few Months Later-

liked by aarondessner, taylorswift, and 984,059 more

y/n.webber The Secret Of Us is out now! The songs on this album are a collection of my life these past few months and I’m so excited to share them with you all. Special thank you to @/aarondessner and @/taylorswift I love you both 💛

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user1 I hope she rips oscar to shreds

user7 y/n better than revenge era

user9 !!!

user3 girl you can do so much better than o***r

user12 I'm so ready to scream and cry to this

user2 I cannot believe he cheated on her

user16 out of all the guys on the grid OSCAR?!?!

user11 kitten I'll be honest I'm still not over good riddance 😔

user8 LMAO

user9 so true 😭

user15 hyped af for the taylor collab

user16 the fact that she's the daughter of mark, the man who supported him since day one and he STILL cheated on her is CRAZYY

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by taylorswift, oliviarodrigo, and 985,750 more

y/n.webber throwback to my time at last year's era's tour. I'm so glad to be back 🩷

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taylorswift were so glad to have you <3

*liked by original poster*

oliviarodrigo miss youuu

yourusername I miss you too babes

user9 "and you knew my last love let me down" OSCARRRRAHHH

user7 AND I BET HES AT HER PLACE RIGHT NOW

user10 I'm so excited to see you

user16 he fumbled so hard

user4 we love you <3

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by oscarpiastri, lilyzneimer, and 1,194,203 more

y/n.webber I understand that, without my agreement, @/f1gossip put out a post a week ago that said Oscar Piastri was cheating on me. This is wrong and I am in a happy relationship with both Oscar and Lily. He did not cheat on me. 

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lilyzneimer I love you 🩷

y/n.webber I love you more

user7 😨

user1 I'm not even sure what to say

user12 I'm so sorry oscar we weren't familiar with your game 😭

user3 I-

user6 in true bi panic fashion

user4 FUCK 😭

user19 everyone say sorry Oscar

user2 sorry oscar

user5 we're sorry Oscar :(

user13 WE DIDN'T KNOW WE SWEAR

user10 sorry Oscar 😔

user21 💖💜💙

user23 the @ is such a boss bitch move

user8 saying sorry to Oscar online isn't enough I need to revoke my statements in a court of law

user7 same

liked by lilyzneimer, y/n.webber, alexandrasaintmleux and 884,472 more oscarpiastri flowers for my favs 💐

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y/n.webber my loves 🩷

lilyzneimer 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

user7 my favorite throuple

user23 as if you weren't hating on oscar yesterday

user7 and I am deeply ashamed

user12 we said we're sorry :(

user6 yea oscar x lily x y/n are cute but wheres mark x fernando x taylor

user9 as in swift? 😭

user6 yes.

alexandrasaintmleux you three are so cute

y/n.webber <3