#beauty comes out of attention not the other way around

[vi-steponmeplease]

BILLIE BOSSA NOVA

REQUEST: hii i was wondering if u can do like a story with billie on how like billie and the reader are in the pool and start to make out (pls end in smut ☺️) also like dom billie and i love your stories SMM

a/n: love this request, and tysm ily!! also i changed the setting to a jacuzzi since that's steamier imo

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

pairings - flirtacious!billie x fem!reader

genre - smut

synopsis: a long-awaited romantic getaway to a hawaiian resort with your girlfriend leaves you craving her in more ways than one.

tw: softdom!billie, sub!reader, praise kink, billie's a bit of a tease, semi-public pool sex, light choking, reader & billie are in an established relationship

word count: 1.6K

a lot can change in twenty seconds a lot can happen in the dark

⟡

i'm not sentimental but there's somethin' 'bout the way you look tonight

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Vacations have never really been your thing, as the timing never seems convenient enough for you to be free. But when you and your girlfriend finally manage to carve out time for a well-deserved break from work, you waste no time whisking her away to a luxurious resort in Hawaii.

"Look, Bils, there are so many activities here!" you gush, waving a colorful pamphlet excitedly in Billie’s face.

She chuckles, gently swatting your hand away before resting hers back on the steering wheel. "Tell me all about them, babe. Jus' let me keep my eyes on the road so we actually make it there in one piece, okay?"

"I wanna go swimming first, and then we can—" You abruptly cut yourself off, gasping as your eyes catch something on the pamphlet. "Oh my God, no, we’re going horseback riding first!"

Billie laughs, her voice light and melodic as she takes in your excitement. She spares you a brief glance, her eyes brimming with affection, before turning her attention back to the road. Her hand finds its way to your thigh, a gentle squeeze accompanying the smile playing on her lips. “Almost there.”

When you arrive, Billie pulls into valet parking, smoothly handing over her keys before wrapping an arm around your waist. With the other, she effortlessly wheels your shared suitcase, her presence reassuring as you both check in at the resort.

Key in hand, the two of you make your way to your room. Once inside, you immediately flop onto the bed, letting out a contented sigh as the crisp, cool sheets embrace your body. The scent of vanilla and coconut wafts through the air, calming and intoxicating all at once.

Billie leans down, her lips meeting yours in a tender kiss that makes your heart flutter. She then takes your hands, gently pulling you up to sit. "Come on, pretty girl," she says with a soft smile, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "The horses are waiting."

In hues of amber and crimson, the day takes its final bow, painting the sky in the tender colors of twilight. A soft breeze brushes over your exposed shoulders, a soothing contrast to the lukewarm embrace of the jacuzzi water rippling around your figure.

The quiet patter of footsteps reaches your ears, followed by a gentle splash as someone joins you. You glance to the side and spot Billie, clad in a pink bikini, her calm smile radiating under the soft glow of the yellow string lights that frame the area. Your gaze instinctively trails over her figure, your throat tightening as the light dances across her skin, accentuating her beauty.

She slides into the water beside you, her entrance sending a cascade of bubbles around her. She lets out a blissful sigh, leaning back against the edge. Her eyes flutter shut, giving in to the soothing warmth of the water enveloping her.

Her arms coil around your waist, pulling you flush against her. You wrap your arms around her shoulders with a playful grin, leaning in to press your lips to hers in a kiss that quickly turns passionate. Her hands trail down to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as your legs instinctively wrap around her waist.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispers, her breath warm against your lips. “It’s been way too long since I’ve had you all to myself.”

You chuckle softly, tilting your head and flipping your hair aside to take in the intense longing in her ocean-blue eyes. Before you can respond, Billie claims your lips again, this time with a raw urgency. Her hands slide to your ass, cupping and squeezing with a teasing firmness that draws a soft gasp from you.

“Missed this ass,” she murmurs, her lips now trailing down your neck. Her kisses deepen into marks of purple, each one a possessive reminder of her touch. A quiet moan slips from your lips as her damp hand slides up to your neck, gripping gently and pulling you closer. Your head tilts back, granting her full access, surrendering completely to the moment.

“Missed your obedience, baby,” she whispers, her lips brushing against the delicate skin above your bikini top. Her words send a shiver down your spine as her mouth grazes the curve of your breasts. “You’re always such a good girl for me.”

Heat pools between your legs at the sultry tone of her words, and your desperation grows as you subtly begin to grind against her, hoping she won’t notice. But Billie, ever attentive, quickly catches on, her firm grip halting your movements with ease.

“What do you need, pretty girl?” she rasps, her voice teasingly low, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Use your words.”

“Please, Bils,” you manage, your voice a trembling whisper as you squirm in her grasp. “Touch me.”

“You need my fingers?” she asks, her teasing tone making your breath hitch. You nod quickly, your desperation clear. Her hands move with deliberate slowness to your string bikini, untying the knots and draping the fabric over the rim of the jacuzzi. “How bad do you need ’em?”

“So bad… Need you, Billie." Your words slip out in an unintentional whimper as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth. Her calloused fingers find your clit, rubbing slow, taunting circles that draw a sigh of relief from you. The sensation is momentary, though, as she pulls back, leaving you aching for more.

Before you can protest, her plump lips capture yours in a heated kiss, her tongue exploring yours as her fingers slip inside you. The stretch is perfect, filling you as her kiss muffles the moans spilling from your lips. Every movement of her fingers sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, her dominance grounding you completely in the moment.

Ever so slightly, Billie curls her fingers, reaching deeper spots that send jolts of pleasure rippling through you. Louder moans spill from your lips as your grip on her shoulders tightens, your head falling back in surrender to the intense sensations.

She bites her lip, barely suppressing the satisfied smirk threatening to spread as she watches your face contort with unrestrained bliss.

“You like that, baby?” she purrs, her voice dripping with pride—both in herself for knowing exactly how to unravel you and in you for being so perfectly compliant, following her every command. “Want me to go faster?”

“Y-Yes, faster,” you stammer, your voice trembling as your eyes roll back, overwhelmed by the ecstasy coursing through you. Billie doesn’t hesitate, quickening the rhythm of her fingers, each thrust building a delicious pressure deep within you.

With practiced ease, she unties the knot of your bikini top, letting it fall away before her mouth claims your nipple. Her tongue flicks and swirls over the sensitive bud, her lips suckling just enough to make your back arch instinctively. Every motion of her hands and mouth leaves you inching closer to the edge, completely at her mercy.

"Look at you—such a pretty girl, begging to feel my fingers inside you," Billie murmurs, her voice muffled as her lips remain latched around your nipple.

You clench around her fingers, your body responding instinctively to the relentless pace of her thrusts. The sensation builds to an almost unbearable peak, drawing out louder moans. “Close…” you manage to gasp, your voice trembling. Billie takes your breathless admission as her cue, quickening her pace and adding a third finger, the stretch sending a fresh wave of heat pooling in your core.

“Oh my—fuck,” you groan, your breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps as her fingers reach deeper, hitting spots that make your body shudder. “I’m so close.”

“Yeah, baby?” Billie’s voice drips with praise, a mix of pride and adoration as her fingers work you over without mercy. “You want to come?”

“Billie, please,” you whimper, your voice thick with desperation. The sound of her name spilling from your lips like a prayer makes her groan, a low, primal sound that only adds to the intensity of the moment.

With her free hand, she grips the back of your neck, pulling you into a searing kiss. Her tongue delves into your mouth, her movements commanding and possessive. The overwhelming sensation of her lips, her fingers, and her presence pushes you over the edge, and you unravel around her with a loud, pleasured moan, your body trembling as waves of relief crash through you.

Your chest rises and falls with heavy pants as your body finally gives in, trembling from the intensity. Billie’s arms wrap around you instantly, steadying and holding you close. Her warmth and strength are a comforting anchor as you melt against her.

She grins softly, reaching up to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “You did amazing, baby,” she murmurs, her voice tender and full of affection. Her fingers trail over your skin, rubbing soothing circles around the marks she left, a quiet gesture of care. With skilled ease, she ties your bikini top back in place, shielding your sensitive skin from the cool air.

Once you’re steady, the two of you make your way back to your room, the short walk punctuated by the easy intimacy you share. Billie can’t resist teasing you, her tone light. “So, you still up for that tango class?” she asks, a playful smirk tugging at her lips, reminding you of how excited you’d been earlier.

“Fuck no,” you reply with a chuckle, your voice warm despite your exhaustion. Dropping your head against her shoulder, you nuzzle into the crook of her neck, letting her warmth envelop you. “Sleep’s calling my name.”

[onecheerfulmoron]

🤴God / 🫅Goddess Appeal

<Applies to both Male & Female>

*Personal Observation / Experience*

What do I mean by god/goddess appeal?

Well, I believe individuals who have certain aspects, placements, or signs (which I have listed below) enforces others to view them in a positive light or show admiration. The explanation as to what causes that positive outlook can be better understood by knowing the roles of the planets or signs. You can use the examples of the planet's role from my sex appeal post to help better understand. I’m just a bit lazy sometimes, lol.

Sun/Rising/MC/Mercury/Venus conjunct Neptune

Sun/Rising/Moon/MC/Mercury/Mars/Jupiter/Neptune conjunct Venus

Sun/Rising/MC/Mercury/Venus conjunct Mars

Sun/Rising/MC/Mercury/Mars conjunct Saturn

Sun/Rising/MC/Mercury conjunct Juno

Sun/Rising/MC/Mercury conjunct asteroid Nymphe #875

Sun/Rising/MC/Mercury conjunct asteroid Psyche #16

Sun/Rising/MC/Mercury conjunct asteroid Eros #433

Sun/Rising/MC/Mercury conjunct asteroid Aphrodite #1388

*Personally I think when it comes down to asteroids in conjunction to Venus, there’s a 50/50 chance that it’s attention towards you (why people want to be in a relationship with you) or it’s all about your nature in a relationship. That’s why I didn’t include Venus for the asteroids. I never seen its effect on these asteroids. If any of y’all have, please let me know :)*

Any of those planets in Pisces, Cancer, Libra, Taurus, Capricorn and Aries.

*Personally, I find Capricorns hot and cold. So I included them in this and my sex appeal post. They carry a very dominant yet mature vibe and can be seen as hot and cute. They are the Gemini’s of appearance because of their capability to shift from being hot to cute. Example: Jennie (Blackpink), Timothée Chalamet, Zayn Malik, Kim Tae-hyung (BTS), etc.*

Any of those planets & asteroids in the 1st, 5th, 7th, 10th, and 11th house.

Trines/Opposition/Square/Sextile also apply. Conjunctions are the most powerful and/or tighter the orbs of the aspect. Orbs (0-3), the more prominent it plays out in your life. Orbs (4-7) is somewhat in the middle.

Examples:

People with Sun and/or Rising conjunct Neptune or in Pisces literally act like the Geminis of the water sign with the mindset of Libra or some. They know how to get their way around shit and don't like problems, so instead of siding with their opinion, they just go along with whatever the other person says to keep the peace. This is one of the zodiac signs I have seen as the most mutable after Libras. I never heard people saying shit about Pisces. They are usually welcomed in any type of friend groups.

Any planet in aspect with Neptune makes the individual dreamy, ethereal, and magnetic for whatever that planet represents. Ex: Sun conjunct Neptune their personality, Rising conjunct Neptune -> their features and sense of style, etc. These people are like Libra’s, but the emotional version.

Mercury conjunct Neptune individuals better sing their asses off. Many celebrities who have this are known for their voices and how beautiful they sound. Ummmm hello Ariana Grande & Jennie from Blackpink….. These people possess a voice that can influence and attract others. For instance, people with Mercury conjunct Pluto have a unique conversational style, but people with Mercury conjunct Neptune have a unique tone and voice. There was this one time I ordered pizza over the phone and man I was getting butterflies over the man who took my order. The tone of his voice was such a turn-on. I won't be surprised if he had this aspect.

I have Nymphe conjunct my Rising in the 12th house. Since nymphe is in my 12th house, the effect on others usually takes place when they get to know me, are around me, or when they talk to me. I get called adorable a lot by men and some women. I have been told by one coworker that I’m so naive and that it’s adorable. Yes, I have been a very sheltered female, lol. One day at my corporate job my coworkers were talking about Greek people, and I was like “Oh I didn’t know they still existed”. They burst out laughing and one of my coworkers yelled out “You’re so adorable…that was so cute”. Mind you, my director was behind them. I was scared I was going to get fired for being stupid. If Indians find out about me and my stupidity, they will not claim me, lol. Even when I had to take gym class in high school, I was so embarrassed to run and still am because I didn't want to look stupid. My gym teacher would always hype me up like a father. Everyone in that gym class knew our gym teacher had a special spot for me. I'm seen as a kid to adults, tho I'm 23. I honestly think because of that, I attract pedophiles. When I used to work part-time at a restaurant, a female manager (40-50yr old) who I think could be bisexual told me to make OnlyFans. She randomly told me her daughter does and she watches them. And kept pushing me to. The bartender kept telling me she has a thing for me. I also had older men (40 and up) sexualize me. A grown man touched me on my back when I went grocery shopping. The crazy thing is he did it when his son walked away somewhere. Despite being adorable and childish, this aspect has the potential to attract pedophiles. I know I'm not a kid, but my innocence and naiveness draws predators.

I have Psyche conjunct my Rising in the 1st house. I have a way of getting out of trouble, lol. It’s like people can tell I have good intentions and go easy on me. All I have to do is make eye contact, and people feel connected to me soulfully. I usually get along with men more, and they respect me more than females. If y'all know the story of Psyche dealing with jealousy from her sisters and Aphrodite. That shit ain’t wrong. I always felt as if females didn’t like me, like they were jealous. For instance, I was shocked when I found out that this girlfriend whom I had been friends with since middle school tried to copy my facial feature. She slipped up and told me on a phone call that she showed a picture of my face when she got her chin done. She said even the surgeon was shocked that my cheekbones and chin were natural. Like WTF! That's creepy man. I would never show a picture of my friend if I was trying to get something done on myself. The girl been jealous of me the entire time of our friendship and released it by getting work done. I’m not close to her like that anymore. A positive example of this aspect would be me only getting warnings from cops. One day I sped through the school zone and got caught. I pulled over, and the cop asked me what do you think will happen now. I told him my car insurance will go high. The crazy thing is I left my wallet and DL at home. I was thankfully able to find a picture on my phone and yes he let me go with a warning. Another time a police car was behind me at the traffic lights, and it was red. When the traffic light turned green, the police siren went off, and I thought there was a criminal before me. I did the same shit the guy before me did and pulled over to the grass on the right. Next thing you know I was the criminal lol. The cop asked me why I didn’t let him cross. Apparently I was supposed to because his lights were on. Yep, I used my Psyche magic trick. I made them eye contact, and I was let go with a warning. There were worse situations I got away with other people wouldn’t have, but I don’t want to get in trouble by saying it lol. This special effect affects anybody I make eye contact with when I’m in an emotional state. A blessing in disguise for sure.

Yep, I also got Eros conjunct my Rising in the 1st house. This aspect is supposed to exude sensual vibes. I have other asteroids and placements bringing in crazy shit to my life lol. I have come to the realization though that when I attempt to charm someone, my Eros emerges. I know it’s my Eros because with the other aspects and placements, they are apparent when I’m being myself, as my situation resonates with their description. Back to Eros topic-> men usually stiffen up from the tension they feel from me. I could tell from that eye contact. I know this sensation because when I was in high school, I had a crush on this dude. I would purposely turn on this innocent charm of mine, but to him, it was sexual. He got a boner in class. I can make others feel sexual around me. I don’t want to think about it, lol. Although the impact of this asteroid tends to be more sexual, it tends to be more positive and not abrupt. To simplify, I have never had a negative reaction from this aspect, but if anything, it strengthens my influence. When people feel a sense of sexual tension, they respect my space.

A girl who had Sun conjunct Venus aspect worked at my workplace briefly. Man, she drew everyone’s attention towards her. Shit, even I liked being around her. It was honestly so hard to judge her. It’s like you automatically accept people with this aspect and their energy. I’m the type of person who likes to intuitively feel out a person and can tell who I should cut off or maintain a relationship with. It’s so fucking hard to do that with people who have Sun conjunct Venus man. They can probably commit a crime and people will be like “I understand”. Crazy! People with this aspect can be celebrities and have people worship them for their identity/personality. Like Lisa Manoban (Blackpink), Tyla Seethal, Robert Downey, Dylan O' Brien, etc.

Capricorn Sun & Rising individuals have this aura about them where you got to respect them. They give off this persona of self-confidence. My cancer ass only wishes, lol. These individuals are usually the ones people be like “She comes off as bitchy” or “He must be a fuck boy”. You know how Gemini’s have this dual personality shit, and people know to stay away bc their behavior screams fake. Well, the thing is, that’s how you can describe a Capricorns appearance. They come off as cold, but when they want to, watch out for that cuteness and childlike expression. Yes, I have fallen for Capricorn risings *twice*. I also had a Capricorn friend who can pull in men that fall for her dual persona. I witnessed it first hand. She's seen as cute, but holds quite the flame.

Any planets aspecting Mars screams dominance and assertiveness. If the aspect is with the Sun then they got daddy personality, Rising then they got some manliness features or dressing sense, Mercury will be their dominant communication skill, etc. My feminine self wishes to get me some mercury conjunct Mars or MC conjunct Mars man. What a turn on. Need to stop daydreaming, lol. But seriously tho, it has Alpha effect.

[marsmaximoff]

🎄; 25th of december ❄︎⋆˚⊹☃︎

content warning: fem!reader. pure fluff. many curses. reader is 20 and calls him “dym” as a short name, he calls her “love, darling and my love”. they’re dating. let me know if i missed something.

word count: 732 ❣️

author’s note: i wasn’t planning on posting anything for Christmas, but i got this idea and i had to write it. so, i apologize if the quality is not that good, as i usually spend days on my writings while this was all done on a matter of hours. also, english is my third language, so i’m sorry for the mistakes. constructive criticism is welcomed as always. thank you so much for the support on my last post, and merry christmas everybody! 🤍 happy hanukkah, kwanzaa, diwali or any other celebrations too 🫶🏻 and if you don’t celebrate anything, have a happy end of the year ✨ p.s.: god im in love with dmitri and almost no one is posting anything, i’ll probably post more of him. anyways, enjoy!! <3

the silk grazes my fingertips as i stretch my arm. i tentatively palm the bed looking for some warmth, for him. but the sheets and pillows are the only things left around me.

the screen of my phone clears up as i blink. 11:28 a.m. with a bit more of focus, the notifications slowly reveal themselves and my eyes travel through them searching for his name. nothing. he’d have texted me if something had requested his presence back at the office. although, he couldn’t have business to deal with on Christmas, right? not this soon, at least.

the pearly white snow greets me through the window making me stand up with a smile. how gorgeous. i make my way to the kitchen to grab something to drink while knotting my robe, and the shiny decor welcomes me effusively. i don’t realize at first, but a big and unfamiliar shadow catches my attention from the corner of my eye while i open the carton of juice.

“holy fuck. dym?”

our christmas tree, stunning as always, lays now almost drowned in presents. in fact, the stack is such, that i can’t even make out the floor for a good four-five steps. some light chuckles behind my back fill the room with the warmth i’ve been craving since i woke up. “beautiful, isn’t it?”

i turn around to dmitri sitting on the couch, staring at me with a huge grin. as if that number of gifts was the most normal sight in the world. “what the hell?” “you’ve had me waiting, darling. did you sleep good?” he asks affectionately.

“what are you, on your Santa Claus era?” i say looking at the presents again. he grants me that laugh that i adore so much as i try to give them a quick count, but after the twentieth, it starts to feel simply bonkers. they’re not even small ‘little treats’, oh no. there’s large boxes and bags everywhere.

“seriously, are you giving gifts to your whole fucking building? or is every one of your men getting one?”

“wrong. and. wrong” he says proudly, and once he’s in front of me, he just smiles. there are obvious love and joy in his eyes, which sends a cute fluttery feeling to my heart. “dmitri-“ his lips seal my words with a gentle kiss. “merry christmas, love”. a sparkle makes space on his gaze that could so easily compete with the star of the tree itself. wait. oh. oh. there’s no way.

his hands take mine and softly walk me towards the swimming pool of gifts. then, he sits close by and points at them with his head. “come on, darling. you’ve had me feeling all impatient”. he looks so excited. so cheerful. but i can’t help the slight guilt that takes over me. “dym, you’re crazy. tell me these are not only for me. you can’t- god do you even have an idea of how many there are?!” “40”. he doesn’t even take a single second to think about it. seriously, what the actual fuck? “two for every christmas i couldn’t spoil you in” this has to be a damn dream. “we’ve been friends since school!” i say grinning. “but we weren’t dating. so it doesn’t count. i wanted to make it special.” “you really didn’t have to” i refute. “i wanted to. please don’t make me wait anymore i need to see your reactions”. with a final glance, i turn around and grab the first one. “ohhh you’ll love that one!”

how can he be so cute? he wasn’t wrong, tho. it was a special edition of one of my favorite books. during the next hours, i go one by one, filling the room with gasps, yells, curses and many “oh my good”s and “thank you so much”s.

by the end of it, i’ve got clothes, books, headphones, plushies, a phone, jewelry, plane tickets, merchandising, signed stuff from famous people i love, and the cherry on top; a new car.

“you are mad. i love you so much but you’re mad” i say hugging him still shocked. “madly in love with you, you mean” he answers pulling back. “you liked them, then?” “loved them” he gives me another kiss, longer this time. “good. merry christmas, my love. i love you” he adds.

he can only hope i’ll love the ring just as much.

[sarangcoups]

seventeen if they were in ghibli

— hyung line ; maknae line

note. an experiment on what would take shape if I let the films' plot and characters interact w the members. peep the easter eggs (allusions to svt/solo songs). I haven't encountered other ghibli x svt content, but if there is, this is just my spin on it as an ardent ghibli lover! I'm new to the svt fanfic community as a writer (mostly have been reading), so come say hi if you're so inclined! as everyone says, reblogs are appreciated <3

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL as SHO from The Secret World of Arrietty

Resting before a surgery just around the corner. Friends being far away. Grappling with loneliness. My mother used to tell me about the little people who lived under the floors. Sugar cubes left for the Borrower to find. Well-meaning deeds with disastrous consequences. Learning to love hidden sorrows. When I saw you, I just wanted to find a way to protect you. You gave me the courage to live.

YOON JEONGHAN as HOWL PENDRAGON from Howl’s Moving Castle

A charming smile. Strolling across the sky. He’ll eat your heart. A fierce love for magic meets a deep hatred for conflict. His ideals against the world. Mischief that cloaks gentle care. A secret garden. The boy who swallowed a star becomes a man with someone to protect. A heart’s a heavy burden. There you are, sweetheart; sorry I’m late, I was looking everywhere for you.

HONG JISOO as KAZAMA SHUN from Up on Poppy Hill

Seeing flags hoisted every morning. Soaked in water—a daredevil feat (for a cause). Inserting a poem in the school paper. Famous around the school. Quiet moments of everyday life. A mischievous gentleman. The past casting its shadow. Going to the city with the wishes of others on his back. Feelings that can’t be denied. Suppressed emotions that overflow into confrontations. Eventually things fall into place.

WEN JUNHUI as OGAKI KANTA from My Neighbor Totoro

Sticking his tongue out at the new neighbors moving in. Simultaneously shy and impish. Unexpected acts of kindness. Offering his umbrella despite getting drenched himself. Observant. A softening to the new faces that grows into genuine concern. A willingness to help. An outsider to his neighbors’ sadness, but somehow cognizant of it. Not quite willing to be seen, but craves it nonetheless.

KWON SOONYOUNG as TOMBO from Kiki’s Delivery Service

The boy with a flying bike and bright smile. Attention swept away by the town’s new (flying) arrival. Needling questions are rebuffed, yet he remains undeterred. An invitation to a party. Being stood up in the rain. A wish to fly channeled into creativity. An innocent desire to ride the dirigible turned crisis, turned crisis averted. Elevates himself from mild annoyance to dear companion.

JEON WONWOO as HORIKOSHI JIROU from The Wind Rises

Airplanes (dreams) that make the rest of the world fall away. A eureka moment with a fishbone. Helping a stranger without a second thought. A chance encounter, years later. Proposing during a weekend vacance. Marriage where the days are numbered. In candlelight: one hand working, the other clasping his lover. Beautiful, cursed dreams. You must live. The ghost of love rises with the lonely wind.

LEE JIHOON as HAKU from Spirited Away

A prodigy of magic. Sometimes strict, always caring. His motives are unclear, but his kindness is undeniable. Rice balls offered for strength. A white dragon soaring through the skies. You don’t remember your name? —No, but somehow I remember yours. A grave injury. Kindness that comes full circle. Missing pieces return all at once. A last promise: that we will meet again.

[kaybug88]

Chris Sturniolo

December 25th:

Chris sturniolo x GF!Reader

"You've got one last present."   "What?"   "Come open it upstairs.”

Note: MDNI + No use of (Y/N)

TW: smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), fingering, dirty talk, praise, name calling, breeding kink, pet names(princess, Ma)

WC: 2.3k

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

“Sya guys! Drive home safe!”

You say to Matt and Nick, giving each of them a loving hug before they walk out the front door. You sigh as you watch Matt drive them away from your house, and smile softly to yourself when Chris walks up behind you and rests his head into the crook of your neck.

“What's my beautiful girlfriend thinking about?”

He asks while peppering kisses onto the skin of your neck, working behind your ear, onto your face and really every inch of skin he can reach.

“Your last present.”

You sas With a suggestive tone as you feel his movements stop. His hands trail down towards your waist and give a small squeeze.

“Last present you say?”

“Mhm. You've got one last present”

You say with a small giggle while slipping from his grasp and slowly step towards the stairs leading to your shared bedroom.

“What?”

He asks, clearly not catching the vibes you're giving off as he willingly follows you to your bedroom.

“Come open it upstairs.”

You say with another giggle before walking into your bedroom. He's halfway up the stairs before he realizes what you're saying and doing, nearly tripping over the top stair as a result of him not paying attention to anything other than you.

“Close your eyes!”

You say in a sing-song tone as you step into the bathroom to strip off your clothes, and into a brand new, lacey red lingerie. It falls perfectly over each and every one of your curves with the intricate details covering your tits wonderfully.

“Oh c'mon, you're gonna make me wait to see ya’, Princess?”

Chris complains while turning around and putting his hands over his eyes. You bite back a giggle at his complaining as you put on your silky White robe.

“Alright, here's your last present.’

You tease as He turns, his hands immediately Fly into his hair as he lets out an eager groan

“Fuuucckkk, I get to unwrap you?”

He basically Moans upon seeing you in your robe, small hints of cleavage showing through a small gap in your robe. You bite your bottom lip as he carefully walks up to you and guides you to sit on the bed by your waist. He gets onto his knees While untying the delicate fabric, your eyes cant help but trace over every vein in his slender fingers as they work their magic.

“How do you think my present tastes?”

Chris asks as he gently slips the robe off your shoulders and moving his hands over your plush thighs, letting out a guttural groan after seeing each and every deliciously enticing detail sewn into the sexy piece of clothing.

When you don't reply he lets out a deep, throaty chuckle as he licks up your inner thigh, skipping over the flimsy piece of black fabric and licking your other thigh.

“Chris. . . Please. . .”

You whine as he flicks the tip of his tongue over your clothed cunt.

“Please what, princess? Make sure you speak clearly.”

He says against the soaked fabric As he licks up and down, only adding to Your arousal and eagerness.

“Please. . . Fuck. . .”

You say but fail as he grazes his teeth over your swollen clit ever so slightly, earning a gasp

“Please fuck me. . .”

You say with a slight moan when he sucks the bud over the cloth of your lingerie.

“I don't think You've earned that yet. Let me play with my present first, Ma. It's Christmas  after all, its the season of giving.”

He explains as he signals you to lift your hips, which you instantly comply with. At first he reaches towards the lace sitting perfectly On your thighs but he stops. Instead, he brings his head up, leaving bites and hickeys as he trails to the strap. He bites down on the fabric and drags it down to your mid thigh, then drags it by his hands the rest of the way.

Seeing him do that nearly made you come right Then and there; Definitely top three hottest things you've seen him do. He lets out a primal growl at seeing your arousal leak From your hole, and he can't help but run the tip Of his middle finger through Your folds. You bite back a whine at his actions and move your fingers to his soft brown hair, he bites his lips as he feels your grip tighten when he pushes his finger into you ever so slightly.

You're so warm. You let out a breathy moan while his tongue runs from your opening and to your clit, and he does this multiple times before sucking your Clit between his lips.

“Oh fuck, just like that.”

You moan as you slowly grind your hips against his face and feel his middle finger push through your opening and feel around your spongey walls. He can't help but groan against your clit as he pushes another finger in and your walls constrict against his intrusion.

“Fuck, you're so tight, Ma.”

Chris groans and continues to stimulate your clit. It isn't until he starts picking up the pace of his fingers, you start becoming a mess. 

“C- Chris!”

You moan as his relentless pace Doesn't offer a single break. He's sucking and licking your clit Like he may never get the chance To do so again, and it feels dangerously delicious.

“What, princess? Gonna come? Gonna come all over my face? Do it.”

He taunts with heavy breaths and moves his mouth between your folds and lets his tongue ravish you. The knot in your abdomen is impossibly tight and feels on the verge of bursting, but the second his tongue dives into you at the perfect angle, you're a mess. A writhing, hair pulling, back arching and moaning mess as he drinks you up as if you're a godly nectar.

You feel like you passed out for a second, vision going black at the burst, and when you open your eyes again things are a little blurry. Brushing it off, you look down at your boyfriend who's pupils are so wide you're not sure if you can see any of that icy blue.

“My present tastes delicious.”

He says as he looks back up at you, His lips having A shiny look under the dim light in your bedroom. His hair is disheveled and a complete mess from your hands.

He licks up from your clit to your chest which is still hidden beneath a black lace bra. His bottom lip slips between His teeth as his hands Reach behind you to undo The small clasp.

The very second the cups fall from your tits, his eyes are tracing over every inch of new skin for him to cover I'm harsh, purple marks.

“Fuck, Ma. Sometimes I forget how hot you are beneath me.”

Chris groans while taking your Left nipple in his mouth, biting, licking and sucking without mercy. His fingers move to roll your other between his fingers, earning A series Of breathy Moans in response.

“You gave me quiet the noisy present, didn't ya’, Ma?”

He growls against you before his tongue swirls around your tit just perfectly. Your back arches up and end up being pushed further into his face, which he can’t complain about. He groans as he takes his left hand and pins your writhing wrists above you, all while his right hand reaches down to play with your red swollen clit. 

“F- fuck! Too s- sensitive!”

You moan as you feel a knot begin to form within you once more.

“Take it, Ma. You’re doing so good f’me, yeah? So fucking good f’me.”

He growls against your tit before moving down your abs, taking his hands down with him to trace over each and every dark hickey he leaves you. You look down to him as he begins to undo the silver belt buckle, his jeans following suit of the discarded belt as it lands somewhere on the floor.

“Gonna fill my lil’ present up. How’s that sound, Ma?”

Chris deeply chuckles while he slips his grey boxers down his muscular thighs, a small dark spot catching your attention before it’s stolen by his hard, leaking cock. The tip is an angry red and begging for attention and there’s a rather thick vein running straight from the base to the head. Your tongue peeks out and licks across your abused lips. Chris notices this and licks his own lips before climbing on top of you. 

“How ‘bout we do it like this. Hmm?”

He asks while flipping you both over, your hips straddling his while his pulsating cock sits right in front of you. His chest rises and falls while his hands immediately go to stabilize your hips while you carefully grind against him.

“Fu- uck, Ma. Y’know just how to make me beg for you. Don’cha?”

He chuckles with a slight moan when you grind particularly hard against him. His hands raise you slightly and his eyes give you a look which begs you to sink down onto him. You comply and slowly raise your hips, and line him up.

“C’mon, princess, don’t know how much longer I can wait for your tight pussy.”

He growls as he pushes you down onto his tip slightly. Your eyes slam shut and hands claw down his chest as he begins to stretch you out, inch by inch.

“No matter how many times we do this, I’ll never get used to how tight you are.”

He groans while his eyes roll back slightly and grip tightens. His nails dig into your soft skin and leave moon shaped imprints as you sink further down. When you bottom out, you can’t help but feel so unbelievably full. You swear you can feel every single ridge, vein and pulse of his cock while it’s inside you. You begin to slowly rise up, hoping for some extra time to adjust, and just when you get to the point where he’s just barely inside you, he slams you down onto him, an unholy moan pushing past your lips when you claw his chest.

“Fu- fuck, I wasn’t ready.”

You whine before he starts lifting you up. He’s in the process of stealing your breath straight from your lungs. You can’t see anything, nor can you feel anything other than bliss as he speeds up. You’re not sure how much you’re helping while he slowly raises you up and slams you down with such force it seems upsettingly pleasuring. 

The sound of the bed frame rocking against the wall, the sound of sloppy skin slapping against skin and the unfiltered moans and gasps leaving each of your lips is a little overwhelming, and the knot in the stomach pulling tighter and tighter doesn’t help.

“C- Chris!”

You moan, causing his hips to stutter ever so slightly.

“Gonna come, Ma? Conna come all over my cock?”

He taunts as he speeds up, an unfiltered high pitched moan leaving your lips. You can’t stop the moans escaping your body while you eagerly nod your head, nails leaving moon shaped curves into his chest. 

“One second Ma. Gonna make ya’ come so hard you can’t see or speak.”

He huffs while flipping you over, leaving you on your stomach and ass up. His hand slaps against the plump skin on your ass before plunging back in, faster than before. He’s moaning little by little with his thrusts becoming more eager by the second. The knot in your abdomen can’t become any tighter, and has gotten to the point where it feels painful.

“I’m gonna-”

You cry out as his angle changes and hits that spot inside you, causing your tongue to hang from out your mouth and eyes to be rolling back into your head. The knot bursts before you can do anything about the broken slutty sounds releasing from your mouth. You hear Chris let out a moan of his own while the squelching sounds coming from where you meet, and slaps of skin to skin becomes overbearing to you. You almost can’t remember your own name when Chris speaks.

“Fuck Ma, i’m gonna. . . I’m gonna come so fucking deep in this wet pussy we won’t see a single drop. How’s that sound, huh? How does it sound to fuck you so fucking deep-”

He rambles on before letting out the loudest, most guttural moan you’ve ever heard him make before. He continues to rock his hips into you as he rides out his orgasam. You feel your cunt still twitching as he pulls out from your sore hole. You're not sure what's happening until he presses A kiss to your forehead.

“Hey, talk to me, ya’ aight’, Ma?”

He asks clearly a bit nervous upon seeing you clearly dazed. 

“Yeah, just felt s'good, baby.”

You chuckle as he presses A soft kiss to your lips. You smile as he pulls away and plants a quick kiss to your head before walking into the Bathroom to get some stuff you get you all cleaned up.

When he comes back, you're nearly asleep, eyes closing slightly then opening. He starts cleaning you up, apologizing when you let out a small hiss from being sensitive.

“I think this has got to be the best Christmas Present I've ever gotten. What do you think, Ma?”

He asks after tossing the rag into the Dirty clothes hamper and lying down next to you, his strong arms wrapping around you to provide Comfort.

“I know This won't be the last time You receive a present like this.”

You chuckle while cuddling into his welcomed embrace. He says something with a small laugh, but you can't quite tell Due to being so undeniably tired. Before Chris knows it, you've fallen asleep.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

A/N: So!! First smut! What do we think? I know this is kind of a late post but I've been with family pretty Much all day lol

I hope everyone had a great day of celebration, and if you have any recommendations on how to better write smut, please let me know because I'm approaching the 50 follower goal for the Smut-A-Thon which is crazy!!!

-

Tags! <3

@chrislilcumslvt - @nickgurl4life - @bernardsbendystraws

[stellasdrafts]

Slow Morning with Leon Kennedy

Summary: a warm winter morning after with your boyfriend. (RE4R Leon x Reader)

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: alludes to sexual content happening the night before, no smut, ur so in loooooove. would it even be a story of mine if it wasn’t at least a bit angsty? tooth-rotting fluff, unspecified gender of reader.

Notes: writing the aftermath because i’m scared of writing smut. #needthat. also, happy holidays to everyone celebrating stuff at the moment! <3

You awaken with the golden morning sunlight filtering through the sheer curtains and casting an entrancing glow on your bedroom walls. Every morning, the sight reminds you of that afternoon spent at the furniture store where you and your boyfriend deliberated way too long over picking the perfect amenities for your first place together. Leon wanted some blackout curtains, but you figured some pretty see-through ones could start off the day with some much-needed serotonin. You got your way and you were right. You’re home a lot more than Leon, anyway. It feels like he’s always gone on missions. He typically can’t even disclose the details of them to you, either, leaving you to find out he was risking his life across the globe only when he comes back. That feeling of hopelessness – of not knowing where your partner is, or if he’s safe… it’s a most devastating feeling you wouldn’t wish upon anyone.

It's that D.S.O. agent’s arm, sleepily thrown across your midriff, that now pins you down to the heavenly mattress. You couldn’t escape this warm, golden confinement even if you wanted to. He’s recently come back from Spain and can’t keep his hands off of you since – not that you mind the constant affection. You can’t so much as brush your teeth without having strong arms wrap around you from behind, or cook dinner without him plastering kisses down your neck and shoulders, or even pick out your clothes in the morning without getting groped lovingly. And despite all of that, there’s still a tenseness to the way he moves, the way he carries himself. As if you’re both waiting for the other shoe to drop – waiting for him to be ripped away from you again. So you take the time you have now to admire his sleeping form. It’s the only time he truly looks peaceful. You trace a careful thumb over the space between his brows. There are usually a few tense lines there, giving away the insurmountable stress he carries with him wherever he goes. You’d give anything to have him like this all the time: warm, safe, at ease and at home.

He begins to stir and you continue to caress the angles of his pretty face. His long lashes flutter slowly. He looks godly, with the white sheet thrown loosely over his bare frame and the celestial light glowing from the window behind him…

“Morning, baby~” he croaks groggily, making you smile. He only calls you pet names when his mind is dazed from sleep, or in especially tender moments.

“Shhh,” you coo. “Go back to sleep. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He shakes his head ever so slightly, despite struggling to keep his stormy eyes open. He nuzzles closer to you. “M’awake now,” he mumbles against the skin of your chest.

“Sorry.”

He gives you a look that you read perfectly – don’t apologize – and playfully nips the fat of your chest. You squeak, still sensitive from his generous attention to it last night, before giving his hair a light tug away. He just grins like the beautiful fool he is for you. “Careful. Don’t start somethin’ you can’t finish. Must still be pretty spent from last night.”

“Fiend.” You scoff, but he can’t see anything other than amusement on your angelic face. “You’re that confident in your abilities?” you pull his leg for no reason – he very well should be.

“Mhm.” The blond yawns. He stretches onto his back causing the thin sheet to drag down and his defined v-line to peek ever so slightly from above it.

Your face warms and you make to get out of bed before the urge to start last night’s endeavours all over again takes over. “First thing in the morning. Shameful,” you scold half-heartedly as if you aren’t having the exact same thoughts.

Leon groans and hooks a toned arm around your waist. “Don’t,” he pleads, pulling you back down into his warmth.

You giggle, reaching back to hold him back. “Don’t you have anywhere to be? Won’t Hunnigan want to see you?”

He nuzzles his face into your neck, never getting enough of your warmness, your smell, your everything. The linens already smell like you. Part of him aches at the realization that there isn’t a hint of him there, granted he’s been gone on missions a lot. He’ll take waking up and having his senses consumed by you over waking up sore in a shitty motel, or even worse on something that’s not even meant to be slept on in the middle of a mission. Anyday. “No. I fought like hell to get time off for the holidays.”

That snaps you out of your cozy wooziness in a shared heartbeat. Your head jerks back to look at him, your eyes wide in disbelief, shining with a rare light of hope. “Really?”

“Mhm.” He dares to grin, pleased with your adorable reaction. Lovingly, he pulls you up to straddle his lap.

It always makes your stomach turn, how effortlessly he can handle you around. With a last-second thought, you pull a sheet along with you to create a weak barrier between your intimate parts and him, still wanting to relish in the comfort a moment more before things inevitably turn heated again. You bask in the idea of the two of you getting to pretend to live a normal life for a week or two. You could have this domesticity every morning…

He shoots you a mischievous look. “Minx.”

You only laugh. “We have all the time in the world.”

He sits up to litter warm kisses along your tender neck, his hands resting firmly on your hips. “And I plan to take advantage of every second,” he finishes your sentence.

To egg him on, you tangle your fingers in his hair. “Oh! We can make breakfast together… And I didn’t finish decorating the apartment! And we could go ice staking! I still can’t believe you don’t know how,” you begin to ramble, getting pleasantly overwhelmed with the possibility of all the seasonal activities you could finally do with the love of your life.

He chuckles softly, lifting his head from your neck. His lips are starting to swell deliciously. “Sure, baby. Anything you want.”

Leon was never a religious man, but he’d worship you if he could – drop to his knees and pray for a drop of your attention – his saving grace. He intended to make his devotion clear every crisp morning during this break.

[tripthelightfandomtastic]

Teach Me.

D.R.W x S.F.K x Reader

Author’s Note: This is my Christmas gift to y'all! I've put together a full version of the two part Wild Wednesday posts I wrote recently. I really am so proud of how these came out and I wanted to put it into an easy read so you didn’t have to scour my WW tags and risk it just kinda falling to the ether. I may do this again in the future, depending on how this goes.

Synopsis: Being in a relationship with Danny and both of you having long lasting sexual tension with Danny 's best friend, Sam. A beautiful night of showing Sam what makes you and Danny feel good.

Word Count: 2.7K (quick and easy threesome)

Pairing: Danny x Sam x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Foul language, oral, threesome, light dom/sub, raw sex (Wrap it before you tap your boyfriend and his best friend)

Teach Me. -D.R.W x S.F.K x F. Reader

All I can picture is being friends with Sam and dating Danny. Always having this constant sexual tension between you, and seeing it also with Danny and his best friend. After a drunken evening with Danny, you find out that Sam and him kissed on New Years once. It was a one time thing, but it felt good. You keep thinking about the idea of Sam and Danny kissing, and you wish to be in the middle of it one day.

Somehow, some way, you find yourself in the middle of your fantasy. Danny loves showing you off to Sam, showing what makes you feel good, and you can't help but pipe up. "Can I show you what makes Danny feel good, Sammy?" You ask, standing there in the middle of the bedroom, both Sam and Danny watching you. "Yes, please." He whispers, a little nervously.

"Sit on the edge of the bed. Both of you." You ask teasingly. The friend's look at each other before sitting, you can't help but look at them like this. So toned, soft skin, side by side, hard and wanting. You drop to your knees between Danny's legs, moving your hair aside. "He loves to watch the way I suck his cock." You smile at Sam as you take Danny's hard member in your hand. "I pump his cock slowly at first." You say as you demonstrate, Sam's eyes glued to your motions. "Then I lick his tip just like this." You let your tongue gently lap at Danny's tip, relishing in the attention as Danny moans, letting his head fall back. "Then I take him into my mouth, like this." You whisper, before leaning in and taking Danny's cock down your throat, slowly taking him inch by inch. Danny groans, his hand in your hair as you bob your head up and down on him.

"Fuck." Sam breathes, his hand slowly pumping his own cock. You slowly come up and off Danny's dick and look up at Sam, "You wanna try?" You smile up at him sweetly, heart slamming in your chest. "I can show you, again." You tease as you make your way between Sam's thighs, replacing his hand with your hand, wrapping around his achingly hard cock. It's so pretty, soft and warm against your palm. "I think you should show him baby, Sammy's a visual learner." Danny smirks as he leans in and kisses Sam's neck. Sam's eyes roll back in his head as he loses himself for a moment, sandwiched between his two friends. "Pay attention, Sammy." Danny whispers in his ear. "Yes, sir." Sam quips, a lazy stoner smile on his face.

Both boys look back at you. "I touch him just like this." You say, pumping slowly, watching Sam's thighs flex at your touch. "Then I lick his tip like this." "Mhmm," Sam's voice shakes as he watches Danny's hands playing with his nipples. You let your tongue explore the soft expanse of Sam's tip, loving the feeling of salty precum on your tongue. "That's my good girl." Danny grins as you pull off, letting a gentle bit of spit cover his tip and down his length. "Then take him deeper into your mouth." You repeat, bringing your open mouth down Sam's cock, pumping the rest into your mouth as you begin to take Sam's dick into your throat. Moaning around him as you do. "Fuck sake." Sam breathes, his hand tentatively touching your hair. "Go ahead Sam, show her how much you like it." Danny assures. Sam moves his hand into your hair, so gentle still as he moves your hair to the side and guides you along his length, your nails raking up his thigh as you do so. "God, you're so pretty." Danny whispers to you, "So pretty." Sam agrees gingerly.

Sam surprises you by guiding you off of him, "Can I try? Please?" He asks eagerly. Your eyes glisten from taking him deep, "Mhm." You respond, excited to watch. You move to be next to Danny's knee, watching as your boyfriend follows Sam's movements to be on his knees in front of him. You move Sam's hands up to relax on Danny's thighs. "Start here, be sweet and kiss here." You whisper in his ear, watching as goosebumps raise on Sam's skin. His hands relax onto both Danny's thighs, gently feeling the muscles underneath. He leans in and places tender kisses against the skin of both inner thighs. "Good boy." Danny coos, hand gently running over Sam's cheek to his jaw, thumb turning over his bottom lip, slowly. You could cut the tension with a knife.

"And you do just what I showed you." You whisper, watching as Sam moves a hand to Danny's cock. "So soft." Sam murmurs to himself, getting acquainted with the feeling. Danny sighs as he watches Sam pump his cock lazily at first, increasing in speed just a tad. Sam leans in on his own, gently kitten licking at Danny's cock. Danny lets out a hiss as he tries to control himself, locking eyes with Sam. You can't help but begin to touch yourself as you watch, just taking in the sight as Sam lets a little bit of saliva dribble down Danny's shaft, wetting it for his hand and bringing his mouth down the length. "Go slow, pretty boy." You whisper, moving closer to Sam, eyes on Danny as you reach around and tug on Sam's own cock. A moan reverberating from Sam's throat and around Danny, making Danny groan, his eyes flutter shut for just a moment.

"Good boy, Sammy." You whisper, your hand slowly pumping his cock, making him sigh as he begins to take more of Danny. "Fuck, Sam." Danny's hand relaxes into Sam's hair, he gently takes his hair up into a makeshift ponytail, using it to guide him up and down.

Sam gags a bit on Danny's cock, but presses on, a tear rolling down his cheek. "There he is, good job sweet boy, keep going, just like that." You rasp against his ear, pumping him faster now. You can tell Danny is close, the way he moans, how his head falls back, his lips parted. "Come on Sammy, wanna watch you cum." You smile as your thumb rolls over the tip of his hard cock, Sam hums around Danny's length, making Danny's grip in Sam's hair tighten. "Oh fuck, fuck, fuck." Danny mumbles out, "Want to watch you swallow it all." You say, egging Danny and Sam on, knowing just how bad they each want it.

Sam pumps Danny's cock into his mouth, using his hand for what he can't fit in his throat. "Baby the tip of his cock, Sammy. I know he loves it." You advise, also doing the same thing to Sam with your hand. You watch as he arches his back, moaning around the tip of Danny's cock.

Danny's hand is like a vice grip on Sam's hair, holding him still as he cums down Sam's throat. Sam eagerly swallows it all, every last drop, "Oh Sam. Oh fuck Sam." Danny whimpers as he cums, Sam can't help it, cumming in your hand. He pulls his mouth away, moaning and whining as he cums hard for you both.

You can't help but grin as you look at these two gorgeous men. Sam wraps his arms around Danny, his head in his lap, Danny hunched over Sam, playing with his hair as they both catch their breaths. "So good. You tasted so good." Sam whispers, turning to look up at Danny. Danny kisses Sam deeply, tasting himself on his best friend's tongue. Danny hums against his lips. "Had a good teacher." Sam breathes, looking at you. You blush, moving closer to the two of them.

Sam kisses you before giving you to Danny to kiss. "So can we do this again, soon?" You ask looking to them. "Of course. I gotta know what makes you tick next." Sam smiles against your neck. "Why wait?" Danny speaks, kissing your neck. 

"No time like the present. My girl has done such a good job, being so sweet to both of us, I think she deserves some of our attention, don't you think Sammy?" Danny coos in your ear, kissing up your neck, his hand cradling your jaw. "Mm, the teacher becomes the subject." Sam smirks, kissing up the other side of your neck. You feel like you could burst into flames with the way their touches feel on your body. "Y-Yes please." You submit without a fight, not wanting to wait for your turn after being so terribly teased from watching Sam suck off your boyfriend.

"You're gonna love playing with her, she's such a good girl for me. You're gonna be a good girl for Sam, baby?" Danny asks, turning your face to him, your eyes hooded with lust. "Yes, sir. I can be good." You whisper, a subtle quiver in your voice, you can hardly wait. "Good, pretty girl." Danny whispers against your lips, kissing you deep. He pulls away from you, looking over to Sam, "You want to ask her to lay down, Sammy? I don't think our girl deserves to wait any longer." Danny says, ever the mind reader.

"Lay down, pretty girl." Sam smiles, lending you a hand to help you onto the bed. You relax into the pillows, your heart slamming in your chest. The two boys kneel on either side of your body, their eyes feasting over your figure. You should feel semi nervous, but you can't help but feel so safe. You know they only want to make you feel good. Danny's hand runs up your inner thigh, up to your pussy. You sigh out a moan, "Oh Sammy, she needs it bad." Danny smirks as his fingers run up from your pussy to your clit, the collective wetness on Danny's fingertips make your mind melt as he begins to swirl your clit under his middle finger with ease. "Just feel how wet she is for us." Danny invites Sam closer, his hand dragging along the expanse of your inner thigh. You spread your legs wider, showing off just how much you need it. Sam's fingers glide gently inside of you, you moan as his long, slender fingers press ever so slowly inside of you. "Oh fuck." Sam whispers, his cock bounces, so hard with need again. "You're soaked." Sam smiles, his eyes holding yours, you can't help but blush. The sound of your own wetness fills the room as Sam's fingers slowly move in and out. "That's my girl." Danny smiles at you, his fingers on your clit combined with Sam's make you cry out, your eyes fluttering shut as your hips buck.

"Not yet, baby doll. We're just getting started." Danny grins, his hand moving away, prompting Sam to follow suit. You can't help but whimper in frustration. "Danny, please." You whine, your thighs pressing together for some sort of relief. "Spread your legs baby, let me show Sam how you like to cum on my face." Danny asks softly.

You follow his order, letting Danny lay between your legs, making himself at home while Sam moves closer to your hip so he can watch. Danny's hands run softly up your legs and rest on your thighs, his eyes closed as he kisses you on your thighs. "She likes it when you start slow, don't you, baby?" Danny speaks quietly between your thighs. The warm air from his lips makes you practically buzz with excitement. "Yes, sir." You smile shyly. "Kiss her just like this, she feels so soft and warm." Danny explains, kissing you sweetly, pressing wet, lazy kisses up both inner thighs. "Then, slowly, bring your tongue up through her folds." Danny says, his tongue gently trailing up your wetness, making you sigh gently at the sensation of his cool tongue. "You see? She loves it. Don't you, princess?" You nod quickly, "Mhmm." You whine. "Then a few more times, just like that." Danny says to Sam, almost ignoring your whimpers. Danny's hands go to your hips, pulling you closer, your legs propping up out of habit, giving Danny a place to bring his hands, pulling your thighs to lay against his shoulders. "See? She knows how she wants it." Danny smirks to Sam, who is now lazily pumping himself as he watches. Danny closes his eyes, his tongue moving quicker on your clit, your back arches as he hums out a moan against you. Sam lends a hand to Danny, moving hair away from his face. It makes you go crazy watching them like this.

Soon, Danny pulls away and sits back up, kneeling next to Sam. "You wanna make my girl cum for you?" Danny asks Sam. Sam nods quickly, "God, yes, please." Sam answers. The two trade places, and you're already a dizzy mess. "Kiss her thighs, get her comfortable." Danny says, his eyes flitting up to you, his hand on your calf as he watches from your side so he can watch.

Sam kisses your thighs, his eyelashes tickle as he looks up at you and then over to Danny. He follows Danny's instructions, moving his tongue to your pussy, licking gently through them. You and Sam both sigh softly, "She does taste good." Sam murmurs, almost to himself. You can't help but blush as Sam loses himself in tasting you. Lapping you up, ever so gently. "Faster Sammy, right against her clit, she'll-" as Sam follows Danny's prompt, your hand moves into Sam's hair, your legs spreading open. "She'll do that." Danny grins as your hand tightens in Sam's hair, earning a moan from Sam. "Good boy." Danny whispers before kissing Sam on the shoulder.

It feels so good, your legs begin to shake, "Oh god Sam." You cry out, "There you go Sammy, latch your lips around her clit and suck." Danny comments, Sam follows. You cry loudly, eyes squeezed shut as your legs clamp around Sam's head. Sam moans as he presses his hips against the mattress, "She's close, dig your fingers into her hips and pull her closer, she tries to fight it but she knows she's close." Danny eggs Sam on, knowing just how you like it. Sam's hands grip tightly to you, his tongue flat as he moves his head back and forth, Danny's hand on the back of Sam's head, whispering in his ear, "Good boy, just like that."

You are losing your mind, crying out Sam's name. Danny tells Sam to move his fingers inside of you, filling you up while he laps quickly at your clit. You can feel your release coming fast, Sam's long fingers brushing deep inside you while his plump lips latch around your clit. Your grip in his hair is tight as your hips buck, but Sam's mouth never leaves you. "There she is. Good girl, let it go. Let him taste it. Let Sammy feel you on his tongue." Danny says, his voice like silk in your ears. You can't stop until you cum all over Sam's mouth, "Don't over stimulate her, just let her come down slowly, lap it up gentle and slow." Danny says softly, his hands caressing your face and moving your hair from your forehead. "Such a good girl for us. Always so good." Danny whispers to you, kissing your cheek, up to your lips.

You search for your breath in the haze. Losing grip on what's real. Sam lays against your thigh, just like how he did Danny's. You play with Sam's hair as you both come back to life. Sam slowly sits up, lips, cheeks, and chin shining with your cum. Danny smiles, pulling Sam into a kiss with his hand holding Sam's jaw. "She tastes good on your tongue." Danny whispers against his friend's mouth.

Sam moves to you, laying beside your form, kissing you deeply, his tongue in your mouth, letting you taste yourself. "Mmm." You hum against his lips. The three of you lay in a heap, you cuddled in-between your lovers, their hands softly wandering your body. "You did so good, Sam." You smile, your fingers running through Sam's hair, he grins at you. "I had a good teacher."

My lovely tag list:

Tag list:

@tripthelight-fanfic @emsgvf @ageofstardust @dakotadovato @screechesincoherently @gretavankleep37 @strangeh0rizons @capturethechaos @kiszkathecook @jakeslovehandles @depressingdarlin @gretavanfleas @prophetofthedune @josiee-gvf @doodle417 @readthinkbeme @katie-gvf @lallisonl @toxbexannouncedx @kdarling1 @theweightofjake @greatervanfleet @foxylotus @highladyofasgard @joshkiszkas @badgvf @greta-van-simp @sunandthemoontwinflames @cassy-face @mindastreamofcolours

(If you'd like to be added or your handle has changed lmk!)

[sulumuns-dootah]

26. 12. Asmodeus - Wrapped like a gift (18+)

     ༺☆༻

⟡ Masterlist ⟡ 

⋆꙳·❅‧The Yule festival of Hell 2‧❆ ₊⋆

A/N: The ending eludes to Y/N without a dick, but can be read even if you have one (just squint your eyes at one point)

‎‧₊˚✧ 18+ Minors Do Not Interact‎ ✧˚₊‧

     ༺☆༻

The more you walk through the Abaddon castle towards Asmodeus' rooms, the more your intuition tells you that you shouldn't. There's something really unnerving about the message he's sent you:

'Y/N! Come get your Christmas gift! You'll find it on my bed ;)'

The winking emoji already had you slightly suspicious and then when all your texts inquiring about more info of the gift's nature went unanswered, the feeling of you being set up to meet your doom really set in.

By the time you reach the master bedroom door, your heart is anxiously trying to beat its way out through your ribcage.

As you're about to knock on the heavy door, a note attached to the handle by a ribbon catches your attention. The writing is in the most beautiful cursive – presumably Asmo's handwriting.

'No need to knock, just enter. I'm waiting ;)'

That emoji again. You really should turn around and call one of the other kings to come and get you out of here, but instead you take a deep breath and reach out for the handle, like the note instructed.

Slowly opening the tall door, you first see a dimly lit room full of lit candles. Stepping into the room, you see more and more of them until finally, your eyes land on the centerpiece of the whole fire hazard.

The master bed is adorned by many satin-covered pillows, which look like they're glowing in the candle flame light. And there, amidst all the glowing fabric and scattered red rose petals is Asmodeus.

He's naked, kneeling and fully restrained with his hands securely bound behind his back by ribbons. A whimper of proud obedience leaves his gagged mouth as your eyes scan his form from the top of his pitch black hair all the way down to the bow tied around the base of his very hard dick with the words 'Free use' above it in a similar fashion to Beelzebub's tattoos.

“A-asmo...?!” you exclaim in a surprise and the demon cockily smiles around the ball in his mouth while thrusting a few times into the air as if to entice you to take the opportunity to do anything with him.

You're not gonna lie, this display ignites something dangerous inside you and you yourself don't really know what might happen in the next few hours.

Only after taking a few steps towards the bed while shedding all the extra layers you're not going to need for the rest of your time here, you notice all the laid out pleasure and/or pain toys.

“Nnnghh...~!” Asmodeus impatiently whimpers with his eyes slightly rolling back, as if just your presence was enough to get him off.

You take a deep breath, partially to calm your nerves but to also stop so many ideas popping up at once.

Standing a the foot of the bed, you contemplate your first course of action with some soft humming. One part of you wants to tease him until he's unable to take it anymore and the other wants to overstimulate him.

Another impatient groan with more pathetic air thrusts interrupts your decision-making and without even thinking, you pick up the leather whip and land a few hits on one of the demon's inner thighs, “Shush... I'm still deciding.”

“Haa~!” the sudden pain makes Asmodeus moan out as his dick twitches a few times, clearly becoming desperate for any sort of stimulation. It doesn't escape you that so little was already enough for him to start producing precum, which was now lazily running down his entire length and dripping underneath him onto the satin sheet.

“I wonder... What would happen if I just left you like this... All needy for me, expecting me to pounce on you, but I don't...” you question, more as a thinking out loud since he can't really answer you much.

'Then you'd make the biggest mistake, I'll take great joy in reminding you of all the time.' a threat in a playful tone enters your mind, sounding as if Asmodeus whispered it right into your ear. Judging by the cocky smirk that's molded around the plastic ball in his mouth, it was the demon talking to you in your head. Does that also mean he can read your thoughts, then?

“Hm...” you look back down at the array of toys at your disposal. A feather duster, candle with ligther, leather whip, chain attachment for the choker he's wearing, paddle, dagger and...

Finally, your eyes land on the strap on with an attachment resembling Asmo's very own throbbing length next to a strip of black satin – presumably intended to be a blindfold. A low chuckle vibrates in your throat as a very fun way to enjoy your gift comes into your mind.

With a swift movement you snatch the cold fabric and walk around the bed to kneel behind the nicely presented demon. A shaky breath leaves his gagged lips as you tie the blindfold around his eyes, but to his disappointment, after that you're immediately getting off the bed again and walking off.

He can't see it anymore, but you're actually putting on the harness and attaching the rather disproportionate dick onto your body. On the way back to your original position the chain lead catches your eye and you take it with you.

Asmo hates to admit it to himself, but being someone else's bitch excites him as long as it's you. Still, not being able to see makes him feel on a very thrilling edge. His hearing is good, but the way you're too quiet while moving around his room is a bit unnerving to him.

The demon's head whips to the side when you get back onto the bed. With a gentle hand you guide his chin up so you can attach the chain's clasp.

By pulling on the chain, you pull Asmodeus backwards until his head is on your shoulder as you whisper right into his ear, while rubbing your borrowed dick against his ass, “Tell me, bitchboy... Has anybody else ever given you a good prostate orgasm?”

     ༺☆༻

But wait, this demon also has a gift for you!

"Ahahah, my pretty little bitch... There's yet so much for you to experience and I am more than happy to guide you through all these new things, huhu..."

[ziminy]

The beauty in beast pt.2

How to not break a curse

Tags: smut, mdni, f!beast reader, bounty hunter!Toji, not so enemies anymore but also not so lovers, dark themed, a bit of delusion here and there, kinda angst I guess? (I have no idea what to call this), choking, he's teaching you how to be rough, hair pulling, creampie, slapping, Toji being a freak, marking, you almost get caught, public s(e)x,

Author's note: someone hold back my demons, please

Pt1 masterlist kinktobermastelist

At this point, the whole castle knew about you two, about the way you sneak and fool around. How you would laugh while following the bounty hunter to the closest room and then come out of it some time later looking like a total mess. How you would still cuss at him, and yet, this time it felt different. It wasn't the same old hatred you were showering him in, now it was concerned and somehow actually caring a bit.

You changed and everyone in that place noticed it. Your servants were following you discreetly, waiting and even trying to help you two get on a more personal level. But no matter how hard they tried, there was still a big invisible wall between the two of you.

Even Toji noticed the way you're acting, and he didn't cared. He didn't even bat an eye when you stopped acting like a scared cat and open up more. He pretended to not see how you slowly started to welcome him more, the pushing stopped and now you were a lot more calmer.

He misses the way you would fight, how you didn't stepped down until it escalated too much, or how you would look at him right in the eyes and fearing nothing, not even death.

That was your charm, and now he's afraid he took that away.

When he would sneak inside your chamber late at night, you didn't flinch, and even after you were done you would peacefully go to sleep, acting like everything was normal.

Perhaps this was normal, opening up and letting somebody in your life, not fearing when they might kill you. That's what normal people do, no? Find someone that you could trust, being able to close your eyes at ease without thinking twice of it.

But he didn't, he would look at you, still thinking of when he should pull his gun out and pull the trigger. He was still looking at the silverware and thinking where he should stab you with that fork. There wasn't a single situation where he couldn't kill you with ease. Even so, he would take your hand in his, looking down at you and parade with you around the estate. He would escort you from room to room and sit silently as he looked at you doing your work.

He didn't thought of it before, but now he gets it. Why was the castle in such a good shape, why your servants didn't blame you for anything even though you don't let a single day pass without cursing yourself for what you did to them. You took good care of your people, making sure no one is feeling left behind until this ugly curse is broken.

Did you consider him as yours? Hah, what a joke. He can't help but laugh just thinking about you trying to protect him the way you do to your people. You might even put him on a pedestal, put a glass over his head to protect him from any danger and probably sleep with him right next to your head.

Weren't you a cute one?

Unfortunately for you, he doesn't like that kind of attention. So you'll have to hold your horses in place if you still want to see him.

"What are you looking at?" you said, a bit annoyed at the way he kept staring at you from the other side of the room. You were trying to work and he kept distracting you.

He didn't said a thing, looking at you just like the way he did before. He probably didn't even heard you. What did you expect from him to begin with?

You roll your eyes, shaking your head in disappointment and looking back at the papers in front of you. He insisted that he wanted to be there while you're working and yet look at him.

Somehow, just after you stopped giving him attention he finally came back to reality. If he kept annoying you will you snap on him? A grin appeared on his face just at the thought of it. Well, he can try. It been too boring lately and he's afraid he might have to go back home with your head sooner than he would like to.

He got closer to your desk, throwing his gun on your papers and dragging a chair on the opposite side of the wooden furniture. "This again?" you raised an eyebrow, getting used to his empty threats.

"I have to go home with a beast taken out." he said, looking at the way you kept eyeing the gun. "Tell me about that curse of yours." always so straight forward, he had no idea what discreet even means.

"A witch cursed me." pretty much obviously, but you didn't elaborate.

"And? Did you killed her or what?" him and his mind. Always chosing violence for some reasons. "You really let her walk away?" he didn't understood you. A witch harmed you, placing a curse upon you and changing the people you love into house objects. That was more than enough reasons to want to get back at her. You were too soft, and it's getting on his nerves. Why can't you go all the way out when people are doing you wrong? Even now, you're clearly uncomfortable, you don't want to talk about it and all you're doing is avoiding eye contact, looking at your papers like they're a plausible excuse. "Choke me." he said, now waiting to see what you'll do next.

You looked at him in shock, mouth open and yet nothing came out of it. You looked like you could slap him in that moment, and again, you didn't. But he could help you. He would happily let you take out your frustration on him.

"I want your pretty fingers wrapped around my neck." you wanted to run from there. He was insane, he had something in his head that couldn't be fixed, especially by you. And even if you could, you wouldn't try it. He leaned closer making you jolt, you have to run from there before he actually make you choke him. "Come on, don't tell me you're scared." you were. "Give me your hand." you refuse. "Stop being such a scared cat and give me your hand."

He took your hand in his, dragging it to his neck and squeezing it lightly. "Does it hurt?" you were genuinely concerned about his well being, but your expression soon changed the moment he let out a moan.

You gulped, looking at him and then at the hand on his neck, then back at his face. Did he really enjoyed that? What can you even expect from him? He was a complete another specimen. "Harder." absolutely not. "Sit on my lap." you didn't even had time to complain before he dragged you in his arms.

You didn't get why he was doing this, and at this time of the day too. You had better stuff to do, and even if he didn't, he could go look for something to do. But instead he's here looking to try new things.

"I don't want to do it." but he did. And if he doesn't push your buttons then you'll remain a crybaby forever. And he doesn't want to remember you like that.

"I know you can do it." he said, a hand placed over your ass and squeezing it lightly. "Don't you wanna see how is it?"

"I don't want to hurt you." he laughed, like you could do something to him to begin with. "If you're going to laugh at me then I'm really not going to do anything."

"Why do you think I want it?" because he was crazy? He was a mad man, why would he ask you such obvious question? "If it didn't hurt then I wouldn't have liked it." with your hand still in his, he pressed it against his neck harder than last time, moving you over his crotch and letting another moan out, to show you that he was enjoying this and you're just overthinking. "Do it yourself now." he finally let go of your hand.

Still unsure of what you should do, you chocked him softly, looking at him with big eyes and waiting for him to say something about it.

"Do it like you mean it." but you don't mean it. You wouldn't do something like this, especially to him.

His dark eyes on you made you more unsure than before. I mean, he did asked for it. Wouldn't it be ruder to not do it? "You're sure?" you asked one more time, just to check. All he did was to nod before you finally wrapped your fingers around him harder.

He let his head fall back, hands on your hips and pressing you against his aching cock to make sure you were feeling him. You could be so insecure sometimes and he didn't get why. You were so much hotter when you were confident, when you looked at him in the eyes and spoke your mind freely.

"What are you doing?" you asked when he undid his belt.

"You think you can rile me up and leave me hanging like that?" he raised your hips out before taking out his cock. "Ride me." he lifted your skirt up, pulling your panties to the side and sinking his cock into you. Before you could do something, he got your hand back to his neck. "And don't forget to choke me." again? Arguing with him takes to nowhere, it's better doing what he wants so this would end faster.

Moving your hips up and down, you kept squeezing his neck lightly. You were being mindful at first, paying way too much attention to him and making sure he's alright. But the more you moved, the better it was feeling. Can you blame yourself that you forgot what to do? If it wasn't for him reminding you, you would have completely forgot. Perhaps he shouldn't had push you that much, because the closer you got to your sweet release, the harder you choke him, and if he's being honest, he loved it.

Your calculate demeanor disappears when your close. You turn into a complete mess and he can't get enough of it. You become what he wanted you to be, your true self. Like now, squeezing the life out of him, and on top of that you also made him desperate enough to make him move his hips on his own. You were moving way too slow for his liking, he had to do something. And now look at him, moaning like the bitch he is and waiting for something even more interesting to happen.

"Be quiet, what if someone hears you?" you didn't mean to put your words like that, but he was being way too loud.

"Oh yeah?" he had his same old grin on his face, stopping moving for a moment to push you on his cock and take him all the way in. "Make me." you didn't had the balls to look in the mirror, like you could do something to him.

His ideas were completely parallel to yours. While he was thinking about you using force on him, you just kissed him. A hand going through his hair and tugging at it slightly and making him moan again. He was doing it because he liked seeing you flustered, not like he enjoyed being loud or something. Well, even if he did, he wouldn't admit it.

While you figured out what he liked, so did he. He would always deny it but he really liked feeling the warmth of your touch and how gentle you were with him. It was calming, unlike his rough life. And you liked being treated the way you treat him.

But you could always try new things, like now. And who knows, you might enjoy it just as much as him.

You couldn't keep up for much longer, and he's willing to let you go lightly this time since you been good so far.

But imagine his surprise to see you keeping going even after you came, now focusing a bit too much on him. Doing just like he told you, and pulling on his hair in a way that got him rolling his eyes back. "You like it like that?" you were out of breath, and you couldn't even raise your voice from how weak you were feeling. But that didn't stopped you from rolling your body against his, waiting for him to cum too so you could go back to your work.

All he did was to moan, bucking his hips up and wrapping his arms around you before he came, filling you up a bit more than usually.

"You're alright?" you're always like this. Giving him a mind blowing orgasm and then caring a bit too much about him.

He rested his back against the chair, chosing not to reply to your question since he's not sure about his well being anymore.

"Well, that was enough for today." you said, getting up from his lap and fixing your clothes. "I'll get back to work." he can't just distract you whenever he felt like it.

He had to know what happened to you. Who that witch was, why you look like this if you're supposed to be some big monstrous beasts that had a bounty on its head. You clearly won't explain it to him, so he haves to find someone else.

He got up that chair and walked towards the door, still no more words exchange as he went somewhere where he knew someone who could respond to his questions. The biggest talker of the mansion, the walking candle that seems to have some kind of beef with the clock.

"I talked with your master." he opened a door and looked at the object he was looking for. "She told me about the witch."

"She did?" the candlestick looked surprised.

"Yeah." the man nodded. "She did."

"Then, what do you think?" the candlestick said, walking towards the man.

"About what?"

"About the curse. Our master managed to break her curse but not ours." you did? He had no idea since you were acting like you're still cursed.

"I thought the witch cursed her?"

"Yes, and she had to learn to love herself in that form." so then the claw marks in your room were made by you. "But for the curse to break completely someone haves to love her in the beast form while she accepts herself the way she is." that's a lot of work. "I'm glad master talked to you, we were starting to think she'd keep silent." well, you did. And if it wasn't for this candlestick he would have never knew about what actually happened.

Well, since you're not a beast anymore the bounty is pretty much invalid. Who would believe him if he goes home with you? Even he wouldn't have taken himself seriously.

He'll figure it out. He can find a wild boar and take it's head or something. Or he could say that you evaporated into thin air the moment he killed you. The possibilities were endless.

"How did your master looked like a beast?" he had to get an idea of what to look for.

"We actually have a painting here somewhere." his work is getting easier and easier. "Master is embarrassed of it, but we think it looks great." the candlestick took him somewhere far into the castle, the opposite side of where your bedchamber was. "It's pretty dusty but it's still looks good." there it was, a big gold frame with something that looks like a lion on it.

You looked calm, and he couldn't figure out if this was made right after you were cursed or when you finally started to accept yourself. You also looked a lot bigger, like you had the body of a bear, the clothes on you sitting way too tight and looking like they're about to be ripped apart.

If someone would have shown him this without telling him that it was you, he wouldn't believe it. But maybe he would. Because if he looks at your eyes he could see that it was indeed you.

Was it wrong of him to say that he wanted to see you like that again? Have a fight with that monstrous beast and see what you're capable of. But again, that's you so you'll hold back even if you had the upper hand.

Should he take this back with him? Not to show it as proof but to keep it to himself. Hanging right besides his bed just because he feels like it.

"I understand if this is a bit too much." the candlestick said, letting out a sigh and looking at the portrait. "Who would possibly love a beast like that?" he does. He would have loved to push you in bed regardless of your form and spend the next few hours in there.

He understands things better now. There was definitely more to the story and nobody seems to want to tell him. If you could break your curse yourself, then why were your servants still like this? Perhaps it wasn't you but them.

You always give more to them than you have, you think about the person next to you more than you think about yourself. So he doesn't get it why you got cursed in the first place. You couldn't have mistreated the witch, I mean, you'll probably let her do that to you before you'd do something to her. Then.. was it them? Your little minions that got themselves in trouble. He couldn't really see it but then again, who knows.

He needs to find out what exactly happened here. But it's clearly that you won't tell him.

The plan was easy. Be extra sweet to you, he doesn't care if it's out of character or if you'll find it weird. He'll find an excuse for that.

So, when it finally got time for a break and you went to eat, he also got there. Pulling out the chair for you and eating at your pace, to later on pull the chair for you again and walk you to your room. Holding out a hand and trying the etiquette way to escort you.

"Is everything alright?" you caught up quickly. "You've been awfully quiet tonight." he knows, but what can he do.

"It's nothing." it didn't sounded like that. He looked down at you with the corner of his eye, and then at the marks on the corridor. You made these too? The half ripped door, the holes in the walls and the way everything looks like it's falling apart. Perhaps he didn't needed to be more understanding, but maybe just show you that he doesn't care about how you look. "I saw your portrait today." he said, almost being in front of your room. "The beast one." you didn't said a thing, only looking forward and quickening the pace your walking at. "I'd fuck regardless of how you look." he said, finally letting go of your hand when you got to your room. "Even if you turn into that again, I'd still use your mouth as I please." you looked shocked at him, a bit horrified and concerned, but again, you didn't open your mouth to say a thing.

He turned around, walking back from where he came from and leaving you all alone to think about his words. You're a smart girl, you'll figure out what he's implying.

"You didn't came to eat this morning." he got into your office the next day. Dragging a chair in front of your desk and sitting down across you.

"I wasn't hungry." you were a mess, your hair all over the place, you looked like you haven't gotten any sleep.

"Did you stayed up all night?" yes you did. But you didn't reply to him. "Was it because of what I said?" it was. "I mean every single word. It doesn't matter to me how you look."

It wasn't just that. You figured out what he's doing. How he asked you about you curse, then went and look for an answer from someone else. And now he's teasing you about it like you'd give him an answer to his questions.

"Why do you want to know about the curse so badly?" he can't give you an answer to that. He was just curious, no other reasons. You sigh, pushing the work you had to do aside and deciding to give him just another clue. "What do you know so far?"

"That you broke your curse." he knows more than you thought. "Were they cursed separately or something?" he was referring to your servants.

"We were cursed on someone's else behalf." he didn't expected that. "The previous master died soon after I arrived here, this curse was supposed to be for him, not me." oh? This was a lot different than what he thought it would be.

"So how did it happen?"

"No, the witch came here a few days later after the old lord died. The servants were a bit mean to her so we all got cursed." that was it? Kinda disappointing. "She thought that I would hate myself for looking like a beast, since she didn't know that the old master died."

"So how do you break the curse?"

"Have someone love me in my beast form."

"That's it?" you nodded. He thought it would be something more worthy of hiding. Like taking a life for every single servant you have to turn them back into humans. "So you'll let them turn into objects?"

"How can you possibly love a nonexistent beast?" how heartless can you be. You went back to your work.

"What are you working on?" he always sees you working, but he haves no idea what you're actually doing.

"The work the previous lord didn't do." he's bored. That boring story you told him made him lose all interest he had. And now you dare to work and give no attention.

"Slap me." he was going to be the end of you. He needed to stop saying stuff like that out of nowhere.

"No." if you keep giving him what he wants he'll never leave you alone.

"You're scared?" more like annoyed.

"I'm not going to do it." he liked moments like this. Denying him, and not backing down until he does something to show you that it can go the way he wants. Because it's always goes as he wants.

He was trying you right now, pushing the papers off the desk and looking at you with a grin on his face. Like a cat who knows that's being bad, and it keeps doing it to get your attention. How long can you last? He knows you can't keep it together forever.

But you ignored him and picked the papers off the floor, placing them back on your desk and going back to work like nothing happened.

Why you're being so stubborn? Can't you just give him what he wants and call it a day? That's only making him try harder, like stepping on your feet, and dragging your chair closer, trapping you at the desk. The glares you give him is only making him laugh. "Slap me if you want me to stop."

"Why do you want me to do that?" he shrugged. He just wanted your hands on him, the stingy feeling of your palm pressed against his face. "Don't you have better things to do?" does he look like he haves anything to do at all?

"Here." he said and show you his cheek. "Slap me right here." you shook your head.

Like before, he took your hand in his, pressing it against his skin before slapping it slightly.

"Why do you keep doing this?" he dragged you to the couch, ignoring your protests and throwing himself on it.

"Sit on top of me." you're busy, you have to finish working and he's not letting you do anything at all.

"Make it quick." it was never easy with him. Because if you tell him to do something he'll do the opposite. Like now, he's taking his time with your breasts, sucking and biting them. Playing with the one and then moving on the other. "I don't have time for this, come on." he was always a smile whenever you complained.

He licked you nipple, looking at you right in the eyes as he took extra time to play with it. Sucking on it and making some noises you were embarrassed of. "What are you going to do if I don't?" did he woke up on the wrong side of the bed?

"Do you want me to do it that bad?" he didn't said anything, just moved his eyes away from you and sinking his teeth into your skin, making you gasp.

Still doubting yourself, you slapped him softly, making him let go of you for a moment. He was doing it again, biting you a bit too hard so he could give you a reason to hit him. Honestly, he could be so annoying.

You did it again, gaining more confidence and slapping him once again, and then one more time.

He was all a smile, looking at you with something in his eyes that was too dark to explain. He was clearly thinking of something lewd, and you're afraid he might come up with something more out of pocket than last time. He'll come with a request that will make you question your morality, and why you didn't kicked him out yet.

"Fuck me." seriously, could he stop smiling for a moment. It was distracting you, every time you tried to think rationally he would flash a smile and swipe you off your feet, making you agree with his stupid requests.

And once again, you did as he said, freeing him from his pants and positioning yourself better on him. You'll do it, you have nothing to lose from doing it. And he seems to enjoy it just as much as you, if not more.

You moved your hips slowly, getting used to the feeling on him inside of you and trying to figure out your own pace. But he was a bit too impatient, he kept grabbing your sides to help you move, but it always ended with you slapping his hands away.

"Keep your hands to yourself." your words went to deaf ears, because it didn't stopped him from touching you.

He'll die of boredom by the time you finally move faster. And perhaps he indulged you too much, maybe it was time to take control. Flipping you over, you woke up with your face pressed against the couch, ass in the air and him shoving his cock inside of you.

You can't completely read him yet, he'd always switch in an instant.

He moved in and out of you, at a mean pace, and never fully getting all the way in, leaving a lot of space empty to show you that he can too make you desperate for something.

"Master, we finally cleaned the greenhouse." someone knocked at the door, making you freeze in place.

"Someone's talking to you." Toji whispered in your ear. "Aren't you rude for not replying? How bad of you." you knew your manners.

"I'll go look at it later." you said, hiding your face in the couch because of how embarrassing you were feeling. "Get off." you whispered, trying to make him move.

"You're really going to leave me alone to look at some mediocre greenhouse?" he huffed in your ear, leaving chills down your spine.

"Yes." what a bonekiller. Well, whatever. He could get some fresh air too.

When he let you go, you thought you could finally breath in peace, that was until he started following you around. "This is the greenhouse?" he said, looking at the glass building.

"Apparently, yes." he raised an eyebrow, looking at you and the off answer you just gave him. "I've never seen it before either." and you call yourself the lord of the house? "I'm going in." you said and open the door, being hit with warm air.

"Master, we prepared some tea." that doesn't sound bad at all.

You walked further into the greenhouse, towards a small round table with some cups on it. Toji was still at the door, talking with the clock butler before he came to you.

"You seem to get along with them." you took a sip of your tea.

"They seem to have put their faith in me." he sat down across you, crossing his arms to his chest.

"Who knows." you looked at the flower bed that was surrounding the table. You had no idea you even had flowers like those there.

It was like he knew what you're thinking about, you didn't even needed to tell him. And somehow, he was jealous. Flowers or not, you see them everyday, while in his case you might not see him tomorrow. Shouldn't you want to get more of his attention while he's still there?

A loud bang could be heard coming from Toji's direction, making you look at him instantly. You looked left and right, but he was nowhere to be seen.

"Here." you heard his voice, coming from behind the table. And there he was, laying on the ground, his chair fallen next to him as he doesn't seem bothered by the situation.

"Are you alright?!" you got up in a hurry, getting next to him and trying to help him get up.

He extended a hand, grabbing yours and dragging you down on top of him. The flowers around him didn't make him look any softer, it just made him look out of place. He didn't belong among side flowers, it didn't suited him, especially when he had his typical grin on his face. "Let's continue from where we were." did he really wanted to fuck in there? You looked behind you, searching the area to see if there's anyone else besides you two. "Told your minions to leave." he really came here with nothing but dirty thoughts.

"You scared me for nothing." you sighed, hitting his chest lightly.

"Touch me." he had no shame. "Choke me, slap me." he placed your hand over his cheek, dragging it to his mouth and kissing your palm. "Do as we did before." you still didn't wanted to do it, the thought of hurting him made you want to back down. "I'm telling you I want it." and you'd rather do anything but that.

"Just one more time, alright?" he laughed, your expression way too cute for your own good.

You raised your hand, taking another look at him before closing your eyes and slapping him. He was still laughing, and this time was because of how you're acting.

He placed his hands on your sides, flipping you over so now you're the one pinned down. "You're really trying to get on my nerves, aren't you?" he flipped your dress up, taking out his cock and positioning himself between your legs.

You looked good between flowers, looking up at him with shining eyes and kissable lips. He wanted to bully you until you cry, to show you that you shouldn't trust people that easily. What are you going to do if you meet someone like him? One was more was more than enough, but two? It was like you want to screw yourself over.

This time he decided that he got bored of teasing. Just got straight to the point, pushing his cock inside of you and moving his hips when he got all the way in. He fucks you so much on a daily basis that there was no need for prep work anymore. And that's exactly how he likes it, knowing that you're always ready for him.

He'll miss you, this great pussy you have and the way you look at him. He would like to take you home with him, but you're not his to begin with. You were just like one of those flowers, if he picked it up then you'll start to die away, your natural beauty fading with time.

What should he do, there's so much to do and so little time. There are still places to see and stuff he wants to try.

He took your hand in his, going with it to his neck and squeezing it lightly. "Again?" you said out of breath. All he did was to nod, he just wanted your mark on him. You didn't understood him at all. But he knew exactly what you were feeling, because just when you were about to cum he wrapped his fingers around your neck, showing you just what he wanted from you.

Your mind was blank, you could barely breathe and you were feeling like you were in a complete another space. It was too much, and he only seemed to move his dick inside you faster.

Maybe you're getting it now, why he kept asking for such odd requests.

You weren't doubting him anymore, now indulging him. Biting, sucking and leaving purple marks on his skin, making him fuck you a bit harder than usual.

He liked it, this image in front of him. You splashed out on the ground, clothes still on but looking like they seen better days, eyebrows furrowed and biting your lips to not let out any loud sounds, like the ones your bodies were making weren't enough. Whenever he looked into your eyes all he could remember was that portrait of the beast he saw, looking with something unfamiliar, like he never seen before.

Did you loved him? Because he didn't understood this feeling. Why you looked at him with big doe eyes and why he seemed to want to keep you far away from people.

He made you wrap your arms around him, dragging him closer so he could kiss you, to prove himself that maybe it was all in his head and he's overthinking. But man, the way you take him so well is making him see stars and he's afraid he won't be able to stop until he puts a few couple of loads into you.

You sighed, closing your eyes and moving your head to the side, exposing more of your neck to him. You should be careful, because if you provoke him more he might take just some parts of you home with him.

So he fucked you, more and more. Pushing the tip of his cock against your deepest spot, wanting to go even deeper if he could. Was it wrong of him to say he wanted to become one with you? To be a part of you so you won't have to feel lonely again.

He kissed your cheeks, making you look at him before he kissed your lips, rubbing your clit with his thumb and wanting to see just when exactly do you give up, where your limit point was. Cum around him like you never did before, keep him inside of you forever and tell him that you want him to stay with you for an eternity. Because if you beg him he might change his mind.

But you didn't said a thing, not when you came, not when he filled you up until the sun set and not even he finally took you to your room. Placing you in bed and leaving you alone in there.

It was the next day when you realized what just happened, seeing your servants turning into humans, the curse finally being broken and the bounty hunter nowhere to be seen.

He did came after a beast after all, and since there was no one like that in that place then he had no reason to stay. You could always find another, the sea is full of fish after all. And perhaps, you would do much more better without him.

@vigilentballofpassion

Tagging:

[berberriescorner]

Silent Nights, Steady Hearts🎄♥️

Characters: Husband!Jay Halstead x Black!Reader.

Word Count: 500+.

"A Season of Love Christmas Series 🎄♥️"

The chill of Christmas morning seeped through the windows, the faint glow of dawn casting soft shadows across the bedroom. You stirred slightly, the warmth of the blankets tempting you to burrow deeper into them.

But then you felt it—the familiar press of Jay’s lips against your forehead. It was gentle, unhurried like he had all the time in the world to wake you.

“Merry Christmas,” he murmured, his voice still rough from sleep.

“Mmm,” you hummed in reply, cracking one eye open to see his boyish smile. He was already dressed, wearing his favorite green henley that you loved, paired with that flannel he always claimed was “just practical.” But it wasn’t his clothes that caught your attention. It was the way he was holding a steaming mug of coffee in one hand and a small, carefully wrapped gift in the other.

“What’s this?” you asked, propping yourself up on one elbow, curiosity mixing with the comfort of the moment.

“Coffee, first,” he said with a grin, handing you the mug. “Figured you’d need it to handle what’s coming next.”

You sipped, savoring the familiar taste. “What’s coming next?”

“Open this,” he said, placing the small gift in your lap before sitting down on the edge of the bed, his gaze steady but tinged with nervous anticipation.

Carefully, you peeled back the paper, revealing a velvet box. You glanced up at him, your heart skipping a beat at the intensity in his expression.

“Jay…”

“Just open it,” he said softly, his hands clasped together as he leaned slightly forward.

Inside was a delicate silver necklace, the pendant shaped like a compass.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, tracing the intricate design with your fingertips.

Jay cleared his throat, his voice low but steady. “I know it’s simple, but… it felt right. A compass—it always points you in the right direction, right? And for me…” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck before continuing. “You’ve been that for me. My constant. My home. No matter how lost I get, you always bring me back.”

Your breath hitched, and you felt a lump rise in your throat. “Jay…”

He leaned in, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I know my job’s not easy on our relationship. I know I’m not always easy. But you’re everything to me, and I need you to know that. Not just today, but every day.”

You reached out, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a tight hug. “You’re my home too, Jay,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

He held you close, his hand sliding up your back, grounding you both in the moment. When he finally pulled away, he took the necklace from the box and fastened it around your neck, his fingers brushing against your skin.

“Perfect,” he said, a soft smile playing on his lips as he admired how it looked on you.

You leaned in, pressing your forehead to his. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

“Merry Christmas,” he replied, his voice a quiet promise, steady and unwavering—just like him.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated, my babies! MERRY CHRISTMAS 🎄♥️!!

Tagging a few lovelies:

@darqchilddaydreamz @sunshine-flower @astoldbychae

@1andonlytashae @prettyyybrownroundd @starrynite7114

@lil-black-girl @blackterrae @onherereading

[mymoodwriting]

Request for Anon (yandere TBZ '98z) 2.2k, sirens, yandere, alcohol consumption, beach party atmosphere, campfire gatherings, attempted kidnapping, kidnapping, manipulation, hypnosis, siren song, minor hydrophobia, bleeding from the ears, possible hypothermia, supernatural creatures (@starillusion13)

“I need some air.”

  You stepped away from the dance floor, giggling and waving at your friends, careful not to spill the drink you had in hand. You were spending the weekend at your friend’s beach house, and the vibes they were going for were a three day party. When you arrived you helped set up and by the time dusk had come around the party had already started. There was music and drinks, and lots of people mingling. You were used to this type of life with your friends, so you were certainly enjoying yourself. After a few drinks and hours on the dance floor you knew you needed a break, so you stepped away, going up to the second floor balcony.

The sound of the waves was louder than the muffled music, creating a peaceful atmosphere. The fresh air was also welcomed, needing to clear out your airways. You swirled the drink in your hand, wondering if you should call it here. You did drink, but you weren’t looking to get really drunk tonight. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. It was good to get away from home and work and just have fun, this break was highly overdue. As you were listening to the waves a new melody caught your attention. Your gaze shifted down to the beach below, seeing a small campfire and four individuals around it.

The beach here wasn’t private property or anything, but you were curious as to who they were. The nearest residence was a good couple miles away. The party was up here in the house, but those people were having their own get-together down there. You went back inside, intending to go down to the beach, but you ran into some friends along the way. They were curious as to where you were going and you told them you wanted to go down to the beach to see what was going on. They liked the idea as well, so you all went together. The air would do them good too. As the house music died down you could better hear the guitar and the beautiful voices singing.

You didn’t recognize the melody but it was nice nonetheless. Although the music stopped when your little group was noticed. Four boys sat around their campfire, looking over at you and the others. They were friendly from the start, asking if you wanted to join their circle. The boys spread out, letting you and your friends sit. They introduced themselves, and let you all do the same. Soon enough the guitar was strumming again and a simple conversation was started. For now everyone seemed content getting to know one another. Although from there a few conversations branched out and mini groups were formed.

“So, how long have you played guitar?”

“For as long as I can remember.” Juyeon answered. “Music is a passion of mine.”

“I can tell. You’re very talented.”

“Thanks. So what do you do?”

“Nothing special, just office work.”

“A cubicle?”

“Yeah. I don’t mind it at all. The work is easy and the pay is good. Way less stressful than my old retail job.”

“You worked retail?”

“My greatest trial.” You chuckled. “It had its good and bad days, but I’m glad to have the experience. I know what the employees go through and have great respect for them.”

“You see the bright side in a lot of things, don’t you?”

“I try. I want to make the most of my life and enjoy myself. What about you though, what do you do with your time?”

“I focus on my music.”

“Ah, a real musician. Where can I find your music?”

“Right here.”

Juyeon changed the tune he was playing and began to sing, his friends joining in as well. You listened with a smile on your face, seeing how quickly everyone got into the song. You couldn’t help but wonder who they were. Most of the people at the party you knew, one way or another, but these guys seemed like total strangers. With that in mind you should probably be worried, but they didn’t seem like bad people. You were captivated by the music until it was interrupted by cheering and yelling. Apparently the bond fire out on the beach had been noticed and a good amount of people were moving the party outside.

Soon enough the soothing sound of the waves and guitar playing was drowned out by the stereo and the conversations all around. You didn’t mind much, especially considering this party wasn’t supposed to end any time soon. Your friends got up, dragging some of the other boys along to dance. You got up as well, although Juyeon grabbed your arm and pulled you back down. For a moment he seemed annoyed, but quickly changed his expression. Perhaps he had come out here to get away from all the loud partying, and your arrival unintentionally brought it to him. You wanted to apologize but weren’t sure how to go about it.

“Let’s go talk somewhere in private.”

“You’re not much of a party person?”

“Too much noise.”

“I bet the house is quieter now, we can go up there.”

“I know somewhere better.”

“Alright, lead the way.

You got up with Juyeon, and he kept a hold of your arm as he led you through the crowds, moving away from the house. Although along the way you were yanked from his grasp, surrounded by familiar faces and dancing bodies. It seemed that the party didn’t want you leaving again. You tried looking around for Juyeon, but he found you first, grabbing your arm once more and pulling you close. This time the annoyance was clear on his face and his grip was firm. You were starting to get this uneasy feeling about him, deciding it was best to part ways.  Yet you couldn’t get yourself free.

“Juyeon… let go…”

“…”

 “Let go! I’m serious, this isn’t funny!”

Without another word Juyeon started dragging you away from the crowd as you continued to struggle. No one seemed to notice your distress, and screaming probably wouldn’t get you anywhere. The only other option was to fight. So without hesitation you punched Juyeon in the stomach, causing him to double over and let you go. You quickly ran off, looking for your friends in the crowd. You spotted someone, waving your arm and shouting to get their attention when this ear-piercing screech filled the air. You fell to your knees covering your ears, trying to drown out the sound. You weren’t the only one affected as you saw others around you doing the same thing as you.

It was hard to tell how long the disruption lasted, but when it stopped things seemed different. Your vision was a bit blurry, and there was a muted ringing in your ears. As you pulled your hands away you felt something warm and thick, looking at your fingers to see blood. You were trying to process when your arm was grabbed and you were pulled up to your feet. For a moment you could make out Kevin’s face before he was dragging you behind him. You stumbled over others on the ground, trying to regain your own sense while attempting to free yourself. Although just like before, Kevin’s grip also seemed impossible to break.

Next thing you knew you felt wet sand beneath your feet, starting to realize Kevin was pulling you towards the water. You screamed and let yourself fall to the floor, hoping your body weight could stop him in his tracks. It did jerk him back, but he was only annoyed for a bit. Someone from behind pulled you up to your feet, pushing you forward into the water. You continued to yell, trying to free yourself and not let the fear of the approaching water scare you. When you glanced back you could see Changmin pushing you along, a smile on his face. You didn’t understand what they were doing, but you were terrified.

“Stop! Stop it! Please!”

“Relax, you’ll be fine.” Changmin assured. 

“Let go! Ple-”

You were so distracted by Changmin that you were completely clueless about the oncoming wave until it hit you. For a moment your whole world was underwater, and then a calming atmosphere seemed to wash over you, pulling you under into the darkness.

🖤

You gasped awake, taking in deep breaths as you looked around. You were lying on sand, the waves receding just a few feet from you. It wasn’t that cold, but you were still wet, which made you shiver. You looked around, but you seemed to be completely alone, the only light coming from the moon. After a moment you managed to get on your feet, properly taking in your surroundings. This place was completely unfamiliar. Besides the water and sand, there was nothing but endless trees. You thought back to what happened before you woke up here, but your memories seemed impossible.

Those boys from the beach had dragged you into the water, and before that there had been that loud noise. As the helplessness of your situation was starting to settle in you noticed what seemed to be smoke rising into the air. Someone had started a fire. Without much thought you headed into the trees, following the smoke trail, hoping to find someone, anyone else. Once you were further in you saw the inklings of fire light, feeling hopeful. That is until you broke through the plants to find a small little campsite. Four familiar faces gathered around a fire, merely watching the flames until their gazes turned to you. A golden glow from their eyes froze you in place.

“I’m glad you found your way to us.” Chanhee giggled. “Sit.”

“… what… what’s going on… what happened…”

“Nothing you need to worry about. Sit down, I’m sure you need to warm up.”

“No… no…” You took a step back. “… you guys…”

“You’re on our island.” Kevin stated. “There’s nowhere else for you to go. So sit down, before you run off and get lost.”

“… what are you…”

“We’re not gonna hurt you if that’s what you’re scared of.”

“… then… why’d you bring me here… how did you-”

“You wanted to come here.” Juyeon remarked. “So we brought you.”

“I never said that…”

“Actions speak louder than words. Of course it was a bit difficult at first when you came to the beach with friends, but we found you eventually.”

“What are you talking about…”

“We sang a song, it was an invitation.” Changmin explained. “For a pretty little human to run away into our arms, and you came to us.”

“No, no I didn’t, I…”

“Sh, it’s okay. One’s innermost desires are always hard to understand, but we heard you loud and clear.”

“Liars… take me back! Now!”

“And why would we do that?” Juyeon questioned. “When you don’t actually want to, do you?”

“I…”

There was something in his voice that didn’t sound right. It created this sensation, a sense of calm and peace you had felt before when you heard them sing. Then it all clicked into place. Sirens. That realization snapped you out of it, so you turned and ran, not daring to look back. Although as badly as you wanted to escape, eventually you escaped from the trees, coming upon an endless expanse of water. They said you were on an island, and you had no way of knowing that was true. Your best bet now was to pick a direction, but then you heard rustling behind you.

“You’ll get lost if you go off on your own.” Kevin said. “If you don’t freeze to death first.”

“Stay back!”

“We already said we’re not gonna hurt you.” Chanhee added. “Don’t you believe us?”

“Just… just send me back… you… you don’t need me…”

“But we do.” Juyeon corrected. “You think we’d go anywhere near humans without a purpose? No, no, no, darling, we were hunting for you.”

“What… what do you want with me…?”

“For now we just need to keep you close until we can make the proper arrangements.”

“Arrangements…?”

“The island is just temporary, silly.” Changmin teased. “I’m sure by now you’ve figured out what we are. Your human body isn’t suitable for us, but we’ll rectify that soon enough.”

“… please…”

“Just relax and come here, we need to warm you up, and I have other ideas besides a fire.”

You stumbled back a few steps, grabbing your head. You could feel that calm sense starting to wash over you, but you were fighting back. As you continued to move you eventually felt your feet dipping into water. They had you cornered, and there was really nowhere to run.

“… please… don’t…”

“You’ll be just fine with us, better even.” Chanhee held his hand out to you. “We made an excellent choice with you.”

“You’re perfect, darling.” Kevin added. “Come now.”

“I…”

Your head was spinning, the world getting a bit blurry as your own identity was being drowned into the back of your own mind. They were getting closer and closer, and your own fears were disappearing. Without truly meaning to you were reaching out to Chanhee’s hand, the inklings of a smile forming on your face. The golden eyes, the soft voices, it wasn’t so scary anymore. If anything it seemed rather welcoming. When you took Chanhee’s hand you felt lighter, as if all your worries had been washed away.

“Good girl, you’ll see, you’re perfect for us. At least you will be, eventually.”

[ryescapades]

→ EVENT OVERVIEW

prompt: 17 - “hey, look at me.” characters: narumi gen (kn8) x gn!reader contents: nsfw mdni !! birthday blowjob, a bit of masturbating, cum eating, whiny!narumi yummers (but he gets serious towards the end mhm) wc ~ 800

a/n: @greyrain23 GREYY ILYT THANKYOU FOR PARTICIPATING AND THE SWEET WORDS !! posting this on narumi’s birthday as a present for u and other nrm kissers (cough cough danyl) hehe hope u enjoy it <3 and here’s your order for slice two (your little selfship trivia is so cute btw !! me luv !!)

the continuous beeping of a virtual world fills the room, comical and wacky in a way it extremely contradicts the other activity happening in the room.

narumi sits in his office, slouched over his desk as his fingers continue pressing away the many buttons on his gaming console. “oh shit,” he curses for the nth time, his leg jerking and you have to reign in the smile from growing lest your teeth accidentally make their appearance.

it’s one of those rare times where narumi deems it… optimal for him to be sitting on his desk chair while playing instead of the futon he’d often lay out in the middle of the room, saying something like he has to ‘lock in’ or that the aforementioned chair could ‘bring him good luck through the aura of the esteemed captain of the First’.

your boyfriend is so silly sometimes.

thus, seeing the golden opportunity, of course you’d find it fitting to give him a blowjob under the desk while he’s busy in his own little two-dimensional bubble.

unfortunately for him though, not even one speck of his attention is directed towards the device he’s holding right now. not when your mouth feels so wet and hot, welcoming his dick inside like it’s meant to be there.

your tongue swirls on the underside of his length and dragging against the prominent vein, more of your saliva dripping down and pooling at the base as you take him deeper into your mouth. narumi hisses, one of his hands now running through his messy hair and gripping on it as if to get a hold of himself.

although it isn’t long before you’re gagging on his cock, nails digging into the prominent muscles of his thighs, and suddenly there’s a slight thud above you as the console he was holding drops onto the desk.

you’d wanted to inwardly cheer in victory after finally getting him to put his game down (not like it took that long anyway), but then a soft, almost broken sound escapes from his lips.

you can feel your arousal seeping through your underwear as you realize narumi is whimpering.

your tongue only works faster on him, needing to coax that beautiful sound out of him again, and again, and again until he gets thoroughly satiated from your touch alone.

narumi relieves himself from the slouch, leaning back against the chair and closing his eyes as he loses himself in the feeling of your mouth. one of his hands wearily comes up to cover his flushed face while the other settles at the top of your head to give you languid pats.

feeling uncomfortable in the soiled underwear, your free hand slips down to play with your own clit, rubbing the sensitive bud to relieve some of the ache and smearing your own wetness around your inner thighs. a pair of rouge eyes, misty and heavily lidded, glances at your predicament. “you touching yourself down there?” narumi groans, “god, you’re so hot…” you give him a low moan as a response, the sound vibrating against his dick.

another whimper breaks out of him when you start fondling his balls using your slicked fingers, sucking him off with eager bobs of your head. “f-fuck, gonna come,” his thighs tense beside your head, the swollen tip budding with more pre and hitting the very back of your throat every so often.

his cock twitches in your mouth and before long, he’s coming down your throat in spurts as he lets out a flurry of moans, fingers gripping slightly on your hair. you dutifully swallow his cum, some of it leaking past your lips which you swipe away with a palm before pulling off to stroke him through his climax.

narumi stutters out a whine at the overstimulation, head leaning back and eyes almost tearing up as his entire body feels like it’s been strung out to the max.

you gently press your cheek on his trembling thigh, endeared at your boyfriend’s state. “gen,” you call out. your captain remains where he is; one arm draped over his eyes, face extremely reddened and chest heaving from the orgasm.

you deliberately squeeze his softening yet still sensitive cock with your hand, “hey, look at me.” you press, and he finally snaps out of it, flinching to look down at you.

his black and grey hair is disheveled, sweat lining up at the edge of his temples as his cheeks are tinted with pink. you bite down on your lip, a cheshire grin tugging at your mouth. “you good, babe? don’t you wanna go back to your game now?” you tease.

for some reason his eyes seem brighter now, and another rush of heat courses through you as the blooming retina concentrates on you. “i’ve got another game i wanna play now,” narumi murmurs before backing his chair away to let you up.

he nods his head forward, “get on the desk.”

narumi is a chronic whiner slash whimperer and i will die on this hill–

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[thevalkyriesshadow]

Moodboard by iris_mindplace on Insta

Gwynriel art credit: venusfolk on Insta

Divider by @strangergraphics-archive

A Waltz of Shadows and Ribbons

A fluffy Gwynriel ficlet inspired by Gwynriel as the Waltz aesthetic!

Gwyn and Azriel meet to rehearse the waltz they'll be performing in the Winter Court while on a mission. The waltz is an elegant, flowing dance that requires trust from both partners...along with lots of hand holding and touching.

Gwyn entered the great hall of The House. A room she’d never been in. One that she hadn’t ventured in yet in the handful of months she’d been living here. When she received the note from Azriel that this was where they’d be rehearsing she was admittedly nervous. A grand ballroom with only Azriel and Gwyn inside, occupying the room. Touching. Holding. Dancing with each other…

Read the rest under the cut or here on AO3!

Wiping the nervous sweat onto her Priestess robes, Gwyn gawked at the space as she entered. Windows that stretched from floor to ceiling showed the beautiful setting sun outside. Velaris was on display tonight, with lights twinkling against the deep oranges, rosy pinks, and soothing purples of the nighttime coming to life around them. 

Intricate moulding outlined the windows and edges of the room in a leafy pattern. Her eyes followed them around the perimeter, inspecting every aspect. Admiring the way the designs sprawled and converged together, creating a space that felt like art itself.

Faelights sparked to life in the sconces around the room, making Gwyn jump and gasp at the hissing sound as they flickered brightly until settling to a perfect, warm glow. Even a few floated above her head. Gwyn reached up to touch one, but it floated just out of her reach. Of course they were safety proof against curious minds like hers.

She studied the floor then, the bright marble mottled with a grey design, no doubt picked to hide scuff marks from the countless shoes that would dance across it. Her flat shoes whispered along as she travelled across the tiled floor. 

Her attention was pulled everywhere. Every new detail jumped out at her until a shadow passed in front of her, pulling her attention away from the magnificent chandeliers dripping with crystals to the darkest corner of the room.

Gwyn nearly jumped out of her skin when she realized someone was standing there.

Her hand flew to her chest, “Azriel –” she gasped. Then her eyes narrowed, her hands on her hips as she shot at him, “How long have you been standing there?”

A small curl formed at the corner of the Spy Master’s mouth, “Long enough.” He stepped out from the shadows. His wings tucked high and proud behind him, no doubt chuffed with himself that he caught her off guard. He wasn’t in his usual leathers, choosing a pair of black pants and a black button down instead. The material hugged the muscles that bulged when he moved, tightening around his warrior form. Gwyn hoped she looked half as cool in her Priestess robes as he did in his casual attire.

Azriel scanned her robes, his gaze simmering as his throat bobbed and he said, “I’m glad you chose a dress. As that is what you’ll be wearing for our mission.” He eyed the hem of the soft blue silk, “What shoes are you wearing?”

Straight to business with this one. “My flats. It’s these or my training shoes.”

Azriel waved a hand, “No worries.” A pair of sparkling silver heels dropped beside her, no doubt provided by The House. The faelights twinkled around them as if confirming Gwyn’s suspicions.

She bent and scooped up the heels – the extremely tall heels… “I – these are really tall. Are you sure –”

“If you can’t handle a pair of three inch heels, then maybe this mission isn’t for you,” Azriel replied, his voice low, but his tone playful.

Gwyn huffed, kicked off her flats, sat on the floor, and put her shoes on in the most unladylike fashion. She stood, a tad wobbly to start, but she stood. And she breathed out at that. “There. Step one. Done. What’s next?” She put her fisted hands back on her hips, looking a lot more confident than she felt.

Gwyn had never danced professionally, or with any sort of training for that matter. She literally felt like a fish out of water, and she was more nervous than a Lady before her coronation day. 

She had nearly fainted when Rhys asked her to be a part of this mission. Her qualifications as a scholar and warrior made her top choice. Seeing as Rhys needed some sort of information from the Libraries of the Winter Court. 

But in order to complete the mission, she’d need a partner. Cue her next wave of nerves when Azriel, her best friend and long time crush (a secret she held near and dear to her heart) was paired with her. Then she all but fell over when Rhys told her she’d need to know how to dance as part of their guise for being in the Winter Court.

Now here they were, their first waltzing lesson and Gwyn thought she’d explode with nerves and excitement.

“Well first,” Azriel began, sauntering closer to Gwyn. She’d guess that he was the epitome of chill, if it weren’t for his shadows that twirled excitedly around the talons of his wings. The dark tendrils seemed to buzz with anticipation as he drew near. They really did give away everything hidden beneath that cool exterior. And it settled something in her that she wasn't the only one feeling apprehensive for the task at hand. “We need to warm up.” He stopped a few feet from her. His cedar and night-chilled mist scent wrapped around her. “We don’t need you pulling anything before the mission.”

And with that, Azriel and Gwyn began their warm up. Pliés and relevés, sashays and twirls across the floor. Azriel was patient, showing Gwyn everything. By the time their warm up was done, she was sweating and panting for water. They hadn’t even begun waltzing and her legs were already worn out and tired.

“Ready to waltz?” Azriel kept his hands tucked behind his back as he walked out to the middle of the floor, waiting for her to join.

Clearing her throat and holding her head up high (She would not let Azriel see how exhausted she was already), she followed him.

“The first, and most important thing to remember about a waltz, is the timing. There’s a distinct one-two-three, one-two-three, you follow.” Music began to play gently throughout the hall, coming from a small, orb-like object off to the side. Gwyn recognized it as Nesta’s Symphonia. 

She watched Azriel as he stepped forward with his left, to the side with his right, then his left foot following. Counting out the one-two-three as he did so. Gwyn copied him.

“Wait, you’ll be doing this –” He stood side by side with her showing her how her right foot would go back, and her left to the side.

She huffed, “Wouldn’t it be easier to, oh I don't know, have us in the proper positions while you show me?” She turned to face Azriel, her new height difference bringing her to look directly in his eyes, rather than needing to glance up slightly. She had to admit, the heels made her feel more and more confident the longer she wore them. Azriel on the other hand – his confidence wavered; his hands slid behind his back again.

She understood then what was bothering him. What would come back and haunt him from time to time. Healing was a journey, one Azriel would always be embarking on. A journey Gwyn promised she’d take with him. Without missing a beat, she grabbed his elbows and slid her hands down to his wrists, pulling them out from behind his back until she was holding his scarred fingers in hers. His puckered skin was rough and cool against her calloused, freckled skin.

“If we’re going to be a believable pair on the dance floor, I’m going to need to hold your hands Azriel – or have them hold me in whatever way they hold a partner for the waltz.” She glanced down at his hands, then up to his face where he wore a warm smile.

He cleared his throat and nodded, “Right, um –” His voice was a bit shaky as he started. But Gwyn was patient. Waiting for him when he was ready. He guided her left hand to his shoulder, tucking his own under her arm. “Hold your elbow up. I’m supporting you, but not really. It’s more of an illusion. It’ll look sloppy and lazy if you just let it sit.” Her heart pounded against her rib cage as his hands slid over and around her, His fingertips dancing across the expanse of her back.

She gave him a wry smile and followed his instructions, holding her elbow aloft. “Okay. Now what?”

“Then,” he began, his voice stronger this time, he took her right hand in his, cupping his palm against hers, “I hold your hand here, again, keep your elbow up. If I let go, your arms shouldn’t falter. They should be steady and hold true. Like a statue. This is called a closed hold.” She nodded. Straightening her posture and holding herself like said statue. 

Her breasts brushed his chest, his large hand that was firmly placed between her shoulder blades pushed her closer to him. 

Everything stilled for a moment. Her cheeks heated under the Shadowsinger’s gaze. He was so close. His lips mere inches from hers. She could feel his chest against hers, rising and falling, as he breathed. His eyes searched her face, wildly scanning – “Is this okay?” He asked, breathless. His eyes dropped to her lips as she answered as breathlessly as he.

“Yes.”

He nodded, “Good. Um, now –” His left foot moved. “Right back…to the side…yes, slow. Take your time – careful!” Gwyn’s heel caught under her and she wobbled slightly, but Azriel held her to stay standing. “Good?” He waited for her nod after her initial embarrassment, and continued. “Again.”

Over and over they practiced the first basic step until they were gliding in a straight line across the floor. One boxy waltz step after another. By the end of the lesson, Gwyn could do it with her eyes closed. Azriel could back away and her posture held firm as he watched her glide by herself. Interrupting her here and there to correct the tilt of her torso or the position of her toes.

Many of their rehearsals were the same. They’d practice a specific step over and over until Gwyn could do it in her sleep. Until every move was second nature. 

And every rehearsal brought Azriel closer to accepting that his scars would be on display. She couldn’t be sure, but she felt that her complete acceptance and gratitude for his mottled hands helped to put him at ease. The more they touched, the more flair he put into his arm work. The more his hands found hers, the more she melted at every touch. 

Having Azriel in her space, so close, touching her back and hips and hands everyday was rewarding. But it drove her mad as she constantly had to focus on stifling her scent. Focus on the dance moves rather than his stupidly handsome face and the way his sweat soaked hair clung to his forehead.

It drove her to the point of incessantly touching herself when she got back to her room after rehearsal. Imagining Azriel’s thick, scarred hands traveling down her sides, across her hips, curling between her legs... This waltzing practice was only scratching the surface of that itch.

The time had come to start focusing on the more difficult moves she’d need for the mission and Gwyn was not prepared for what came next.

“Today…we’re going to tackle the intricate pas de deux that comes before the end of this particular waltz,” Azriel announced.

Gwyn tilted her head and teased, “You talk as if it’s hard to do? I think you’ve forgotten. I’m an expert now.” Gwyn twirled and sashayed around the room before coming back to Azriel who stood in the middle of the ballroom, now smiling ear to ear.

He ducked his head as Gwyn box stepped up to him, holding her arms out, ready to take him across the floor. 

Azriel chuckled and picked his head back up, licking across his lips before saying with a sigh, “You’re facing the wrong way.”

Gwyn’s brows rose and knitted together in confusion, “What?”

Placing his hands on her shoulders, he smoothed them down her arms, forcing her to relax her hold. Then with a twirl of his finger he said, “Turn around, Priestess.” Gwyn swallowed, but followed his command, turning until her back was to his. 

She waited. Wondering what he could possibly be doing. Then his breath tickled her ear, “Traditionally, this waltz is a celebration of relationships of any kind – with this section of the dance showing true trust and dependability.” He brought his hand around her shoulders, holding out a thick black ribbon. “They tie a ribbon around each other’s eyes and complete the rest of the dance blindfolded.”

Gwyn shivered at Azriel’s nearness, how his chest pressed to her back. The curve of her ass against his hips. “We have to do the rest of the dance – blindfolded?”

Azriel hummed, “Yes.” His other hand came to rest against her hip as he continued, “How does that make you feel?”

Honestly? 

Horny as hell. But she couldn’t say that.

So instead she said, “Nervous…unsure, but intrigued. Show me.”

Azriel made an approving sound behind her, the deep tone of it sending a vibration down her spine before he brought the ribbon to her eyes and tied it around her head. 

She was met with complete darkness, with the tiniest sliver of light at the bottom. Not enough to help her see a godsdamn thing, but enough to give her a thrill of not exactly knowing what was going to happen next.

A few steady, pounding heartbeats passed before she heard his voice again. This time directly in front of her. “Now you put the blindfold on me,” he said, lifting her hand and placing a silky smooth ribbon in her palm. 

Careful not to poke him in the eye, Gwyn felt for his face, her hands cupping his chin first. She felt the muscles in his cheeks pull up forming a small smile. She thumbed his sharp cheekbones, then placed the ribbon across his eyes and around the back of his head. Tying it off, she kept her hands on him, letting them settle on his shoulders. 

“Perfect,” he said, his voice low and husky. He cleared his throat and took her hips in his hands, pulling her into him. “This particular waltz combines the elegance and grace of a waltz, but the passion of lovers.” 

The heat was palpable between them as they got into the basic waltz stance. Azriel’s touch felt charged, prickling with anticipation. Gwyn’s breath was heavy, her heart pounding as she relied on Azriel’s guidance, his hands pawing her as he began to show her the delicate twirls and intricate box steps they’d perform together. 

They came to a sudden stop after their set of combinations and Azriel, from behind her, said, “Here you’ll spin, twice, coming around to face me – plié – then I lift you, before bringing you back down to finish out the dance with a pose of our choosing.” His fingers slid up her arms, goosebumps forming in their wake as he urged her to lift them and show off her long lines before she spun…once, twice…just as he instructed. 

She dropped into a plié and just as she started to spring back up, Azriel’s large hands grabbed her under her arms and lifted her – she squealed, not expecting to be lifted so high.

Then she was being lowered down, slowly, sliding against Azriel. First her thighs, her dress rising as she dropped down. Then her hips and stomach until she was chest to chest with the Shadowsinger. Their breaths heavy and panting in a syncopated rhythm.

His lips were again, so close, their noses brushing. If she tilted her head up…

“Not bad,” Azriel said, his words hot on her skin, “Again. This time without the squeal.”

She was on fire. Every part of her body shivered and shook with anticipation everytime they started this section of the routine anew. 

It was challenging to dance in such a fashion. Those Winter Court couples must love to torture each other. But…Gwyn loved it. She loved the closeness she felt with Azriel. The romantic air of the dance, even though they weren’t a thing, was palpable. The added blindfold made it feel like the accomplishment of a lifetime every time they completed the dance with little to know mistakes.

It took hours…days, to perfect the dance, like a relationship – it takes time. It takes care and attention and…love. The poetry of dance was beautiful and this dance? The waltz? It was steeped in that elegance and freedom of expression. A dance that is a clean slate for the partners to do with as they pleased. To tell their own story.

It was the last day of rehearsing with Azriel. Tomorrow they’d be in the Winter Court, dancing and gliding across a different marbled floor, performing an intimate dance in front of others –

And it was intimate, hers and Azriel’s rendition of the dance at least. She could feel it every time they held hands. Every time they touched and turned with each other. Every time the dance ended they were left breathing heavily, panting for each other.

Every time their noses would nust together, their fingers grasping... 

Gwyn wanted him and if she wasn’t mistaken – Azriel wanted her too.

Someone had to take that leap. Someone had to take those tangible moments of romance and ignite that spark.

So when Gwyn walked into the ballroom that evening, she’d called over to Azriel who was taking the Symphonia out of his bag and said, “I have an idea for the end pose for our dance!”

Azriel stood tall, brows raised, “Oh?”

Gwyn nodded, “Mhmm…but I can’t tell you.”

“And why’s that?”

She shrugged, “I think it’ll speak for itself.”

Azriel rolled his eyes, letting a small smile play on his lips as he sauntered towards Gwyn. His hands were in his pockets, exuding cool power as he joined her in the middle of the dance floor.

“Well then let us wait no further.” Azriel scooped his arms beneath hers, supporting her. “Ready Berdara?” 

“Ready Shadowsinger,” She replied, squaring her shoulders and getting into their starting pose. Nervous butterflies flitted about her stomach. 

Her head was turned to the side, looking off across the ballroom. She couldn’t see Azriel’s face, but she felt the way he inched closer, saw his shadows swirling excitedly around any part of their body’s that touched.

The Symphonia came to life and the two began their dance.

Gwyn and Azriel twirled across the floor. The first section of their dance comes to them like second nature. They swooped and tilted together, holding each other in a firm, assured hold as their feet stepped in time with the music flowing from the musical device.

She could feel the skirt of her dress hug and fall around her legs as she moved, Azriel’s thighs brushing hers occasionally, his body a constant next to hers. They danced as if they were on cloud nine. As if they had no other worries in the world.

The time for them to don their ribbons had arrived. As practiced, over and over, Gwyn came to a gentle halt in front of Azriel, her back to his chest and her left arm extended out. Reaching…reaching, until arcing up and back. She bent her arm, her fingers brushing the side of Azriel’s face, a tender gesture; a distraction really. It gave Azriel time to take the ribbon from his pocket and wrap it around her eyes. 

With adept hands and practiced movements, Azriel was standing before Gwyn, her hands roaming up his chest, slowly. Feeling. Exploring. Before finding his face, and donning his ribbon.

Her heart raced, her palms slightly shaking. 

Their pas de deux began.

Three standard box steps, arcing across the floor, before Azriel took Gwyn’s hand, twirling her out from him. He tugged her back, releasing her so she could hold her arms above her head while she spun around and around in a line of quick turns until she found herself back in Azriel’s arms.

His hands wrapped around her waist, halting her oscillation so she faced away from him. Scarred fingers danced up her sides, sliding higher and higher, his fingertips just brushing the sides of her breasts. Gwyn breathed out, feeling the exhilaration of the spins spiral out into a coiled pleasure. She raised her arms as his touch traveled along them until his fingers were lacing with hers.

Arcing and stretching into each other, the most intimate section of the dance played out. Azriel touched and Gwyn turned, melting into him. Gwyn kicked a leg out and Azriel sashayed along with her. A story of a female and a male, growing together, worshiping each other –

They came to that sudden halt and Gwyn’s legs shook. This was it. 

She spun once…twice…plié…jump. Azriel held her. Firm and true. Held her longer than he ever had before gently then ever so gently, he brought her down – turning slowly. 

Her toes touched the floor, her weight distributed from the balls of her feet, to her heels. 

Here we go…

Gwyn’s hands slid up Azriel’s torso, the Shadowsinger stilling beneath her touch. Realizing this was her secret addition. She heard him breathe out as she travelled higher and higher, gliding over slick sweat skin and into damp hair.

Azriel’s breath was ragged, his chest heaving as she rose up into a relevé, and kissed him.

The music hit a crescendo, driving forth the eruption of nerves and excitement that lived within her. Azriel stilled – but only for a moment, surprised by the unseen act of romance. A second later, his fingers tightened around her hips and he tugged her closer, his mouth slanting with hers as he deepened the kiss. 

As suddenly as she surged up and kissed him, she stopped and came back down on her heels, peeling away her ribbon. Taking in the sight of Azriel’s half-masked face peering down blindly at her before reaching up and letting his ribbon fall away. 

His cheeks tinged pinked, his hazel eyes shining with admiration in the dim light of the ballroom. 

The shadows around the room pulsed and the moonlight glowed brighter as it streaked through the windows, something sparking between them. 

“Gwyn,” Azriel breathed. 

“Azriel,” she replied.

The corner of his mouth twitched as he said, “That was our best run, but…”

“But?” 

“I think we need to run that last part again.” His eyes twinkled before he leaned in. His nose and lips grazed hers before he pressed his lips to hers again. Gwyn melted, taking in the feel of his mouth soft against hers, the way he tasted as they explored. Every tingling nerve ending exploded again and again the longer they kissed, the longer they held each other. Hands grabbed at shirt colors, fingers danced across shivering bare arms.

Gwyn let out the softest whimper as Azriel pulled away. He gazed down at Gwyn, his lips wet, his eyes blown wide. “I like your addition, Gwyn.”

She raised a brow, “Do you? I couldn’t tell.”

Azriel chuckled and he brought his hands up to cup her face and kiss her again, gently. And way too quickly, “From the top?” he asked.

“From the top,” she repeated, a smile blooming across her face. He took her hand as she passed him the ribbons and entered the dance floor, holding Gwyn out like a goddess to be revered. 

The music flowed out of the Symphonia, and Gwyn and Azriel’s pas de deux began again.

[how-serene]

Send Me Your Lovin'

Pairing - Jack Delroy x Fem!Reader

Summary - Jack just can’t seem to distract himself from you and that red dress you decided to wear to the studios annual Christmas party.

Word Count - 841

Warnings - no use of y/n, light making out, mentions of drinking, jack is clingy, fluff, established relationship

A/N - Thank you all for a wonderful year, writing these fics have really been a great outlet for me and it always warms my heart to see people engage with and enjoy what I write. Anyway, Happy Holidays!

The rented space was lively, with warm lighting splashing an evening glow over everyone. A towering, pine tree stood in the middle of the space, decorated with bright red and gold ornaments. Shimmering tinsel hugged the body of the tree all the way to the bottom, where a pile of decorative presents sat. Vibrant chatter filled the space, as people nursed on glasses of sparkling champagne. One group erupted into boisterous laughter. Jack noticed Gus among the group, holding onto a flimsy paper plate.

Yet, despite the opulent holiday decor and flow of conversation, the feeling of your warmth pressed into his side was enough to distract him. The group surrounding him spoke of their personal holiday plans, and he found himself unable to care. Jack sighed, and let his hand rest casually on your back.  

“Your hand is wandering, mister,” you whispered, not wanting to interrupt the conversation. 

Jack chuckled, dipping his head forward to hide his warm blushed face. His fingers reached to squeeze at your side, feeling the taut, red velvet fabric bunch between his knuckles. 

“You’re torturing me with this dress, honey,” he mumbled, his lip brushing against the shell of your ear. You giggled, playfully elbowing him. The earthy, rich fragrance of your perfume wafted into his nose, muddling his brain. Jack glanced down at his drink, to find an empty glass. He licked his lips, grimacing at the sour tang of grape juice that lingered on his tongue. 

“Are you ready to head out?” he asked, keeping his voice hushed. 

You glanced over at him, frowning in confusion. “We’ve only been here for fifteen minutes.”

Jack clenched his jaw, feeling heat creep up his face. His eyes flickered down to your deep, painted red lips. The color complimented your skin, and brightened your eyes in a way that made him giddy. You were heavenly beneath the warm, mellow lighting of the room. 

“Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?” “You might’ve mentioned it a few times.” 

“Obviously not enough.” 

You rolled your eyes, not bothering to fight back the grin on your lips. Jack smirked, and pressed a swift kiss to your temple, not caring for the countless eyes on him. A deep part of him, beneath the echoes of his ribs, reveled in the attention. 

“Well,” you sighed, looking around the room. “If you’re so eager to leave, I don’t mind heading out.” 

As the words left your lips, Jack felt his stomach flip. He began ushering you through the other partygoers, mumbling out his half-hearted goodbyes with not even as much as a glance in their direction. The cluster of people wouldn’t move fast enough, and Jack was almost tempted to carry you out of the building. Finally, you two approached the front doors, where racks of coats hung on a wall. He snatched your coat off the hook, and wrapped it around your shoulders. 

“Give me a minute,” you said, giggling at his impatience. Jack helped you into your coat, making sure you were properly bundled up before facing New York’s weather. You two stepped out, hand in hand, into a frigid flurry of snow. The parking lot was vast and crowded, as cars were tightly packed together.

“I should have dressed in something warmer,” you sulked, rubbing your arms. 

“Come here, doll,” Jack urged, grabbing your hand. He wrapped his arms around your frame, pressing you against his chest. Heat radiated off of him, rolling over you in waves. With you so close, Jack took this time to study you. A light dusting of snowflakes decorated the top of your hair, before melting into the roots. A few had even managed to land on your cheek. He reached up, and let the pad of his thumb brush them away. Your cheek was smooth and soft against his skin. Your breath hitched, silently watching his movements as if you might startle him. 

With restraint, Jack leaned forward and brushed his lips against your icy cheek. 

“Do you know how difficult it was tonight,” he murmured, “to see you dressed like this, and not be able to do anything about it.” 

“I think you did pretty well for fifteen minutes.” 

He chuckled, pulling your body flush against him. His eyes fluttered close, as his cold lips met yours. You tasted sweet, with a hint of champagne just dancing on the edge of your tongue. You sighed against him, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. Jack’s heart thudded in his ears, as his fingers shook trying to grasp on your coat. Despite the fabric bunching in his hands, and the feeling of your hot breath against his, it wasn’t close enough. He wanted to unravel you, and feel the scarlet dress beneath his palms. The way it hugged the slope of your body, lovingly accentuating the dips in your hips and waist. 

Light spilled out from the frosted windows of the building, barely illuminating the sidewalk. The night sky above felt everlasting, as snow fell around your enveloped forms.

[mercuriopoetry]

KIT EGINTON on Consent sonnets that will for sure break you inside hopefully a lot and then re-build you more radical than before

[nezuscribe]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

pairing: gojo x fem!reader

summary: gojo satoru was the most notorious man across the land. he was the strongest soldier the north had ever produced, the most brilliant of minds, and somebody who slept his way through the noble ranks. his parents set him up in a marriage agreement with you, hoping that a tie with a ring would help save his image. you know gojo never wanted this, and you try to act as if that was normal. but soon, without you or even him realizing it, he comes to the conclusion that while he never wanted this marriage - he's beginning to want you.

warnings: 18+ mdni: arranged marriage, angst, slight no comfort, gojo is emotionally constipated for a bit, heavy making out, eating out (fem! receiving), fingering, (naoya)

word count: 19.7k (sorry)

note: inspired by this drabble. i'm so happy this behemoth of a fic is done!! art credit: _3aem

jjk masterlist + series masterlist

Gojo Satoru was the most powerful man alive. 

Not only physically, though some people chalked him up to being half god, but his name held even more control. The Gojo family of the North was as old as the gods themselves, and they’ve been making sure it’s been kept that way. They owned so much land that you would walk to the ends of the earth and circle back around and it would probably still be theirs. They had armies of unfathomable sizes under their command, so much riches that they could probably buy an entire nation and still have plenty to spend. 

His presence was just as large as his name created him to be. Any ball he went to, all eyes would fall on him. On the battlefield, men feared to see the flash of white hair, knowing that his strength was unbridled. 

And his physical beauty? Most people assumed he was blessed by the gods himself. Gojo had a certain look that just made your knees weak, your heart palpitate, and your cheeks heated up. The handful of times you’ve seen him from afar you’ve been able to understand why all the girls (and some of the guys) yearned for his attention. His eyes were a piercing blue as if somebody had held a mirror to the sky when creating them. His hair had grown whiter with the years, as white as the snow that sunk deep into the grounds of the north. Gojo had the build of a soldier, and he towered over most people. His bulky build was intimidating, but you heard some girls whisper behind their hands about how he must look underneath all those ceremonial garments. 

The lord of the North was power itself. 

Which would make you, by martial association, the North's most powerful lady.

And for somebody who grew up with the same respect as a stable boy, it was all too much too soon. 

And yes, while on paper you still had your father's last name and legacy tied to it, you weren’t really a daughter to your parents. Your mother, though you had to call her by her name whenever you weren’t in public, seeing how she wasn’t really your mother, made sure it was kept that way. Your other three half-sisters should have been in your spot, either one of them more true to the family name than you. But seeing how they’re already married, you were the final resort. 

Gojo Satoru, though you’ve seen him countless times (something common because of how close in ranks your families were), had only acknowledged you a couple of times. You didn’t care much, never did, because that's what you were used to. After all, it was a common fact that you were what they nicknamed “the bastard daughter” of the West.

But it didn’t seem to matter much to his parents, as they offered their son up to you in a marriage arrangement. 

And who were you to turn that down? 

They, his parents, assured you that their son was looking forward to this union. He was the one to offer it, they said, which you were skeptical of but weren’t stupid enough to question. You knew how much Gojo Satoru was tarnishing their reputation with his promiscuous ways, but as long as he was okay with this arrangement you couldn’t find any part of you that would disagree with it. 

After all, you knew that this marriage wasn’t out of love, fascination, or even a mutual understanding, but because of the strength your own family (more so your father) held, and how you were the only feasible option for a bride. 

So, after weeks of rocking back and forth on agreements, paperwork, dress rehearsals, and grueling dancing lessons (and still no sight of the man himself), you found yourself standing at the end of the aisle, your arm linked around your fathers as a large smile plasters itself on your face. 

Ever since you were young you had convinced yourself that the only man who would want to taint his name enough to marry you would have to be either a troll or an ogre, so that fact that your future spouse was human was better than anything you could have asked for. 

And you’re not daft. As your heart hammered loudly against the limited space of your chest, waiting for your cue to start walking, you reminded yourself that this was just a mutual agreement. It’s hard for people at your level to marry for love, but even then, you can’t help but hope that you can make a decent friendship out of this. 

You glanced at your father next to you, catching his eyes as he nodded once, staring ahead of him into the small crowd of just your two families, and patted your arm. 

You still remember the music playing, the instruments harmonizing together as you took a tentative step forward, feeling warm under the eyes of people you didn’t know, but you kept reminding yourself that this was the best thing that could’ve happened to you. Either you died as an old maid in the little room you had near the kitchens at your old home or got married to some warlord who wanted an entire village as family. 

The orchids that surrounded the venue still infiltrate your nose as you think about it, the way the silk of your dress felt against your skin that had been scrubbed raw earlier that morning. 

And there you saw him, standing at the end of the aisle. At that moment you realized how much of a mistake this was,

Because the man that stood there, the man who you were about to marry, seemed like he’d rather be dead than be your husband. 

—

You blink out of your trance, sitting up straighter in your seat as you mindlessly stop tearing up pieces of your bread, rubbing your fingers together to get rid of the remnants of flour. 

The dining hall was huge, far bigger than the one back home. Though you rarely ate there, you could still remember it, and it definitely wasn’t as big as this. Yet, despite its size, you felt like you were a little grain of rice in its vastness. 

The Gojo estate itself was humongous. His parents resided in a smaller house near the ocean now that you’ve moved in, but you would bet that the word humble they used to describe it was anything but humbling. You’ve been here for weeks and yet you feel like you’ve only discovered half of what this place has to offer.

There were guards at every corner, but at this point, you’re convinced they're just for decoration. If your husband is as decorated a warrior as they say he is, he could protect this entire estate with no help necessary. 

You stare at your plate, at the array of food prepared just for you, different sorts of cured meats, loaves of bread, cheeses, fruits, and juices from all over, and still, you feel no hunger. 

Months ago you’d be ecstatic to see how much your life has changed. You get new clothes that fit you, food whenever you desire, people at your beck and call. Your room is no longer that cramped space you’d been given to hide you away from the rest of your family, but twice the size of your father's old bedroom. You wake up earlier and sleep later, do whatever you want, but none of it feels deserved.

The only thing you can bring yourself to think about is how the last time you saw your husband was the night of the wedding. The look on his face when you made your empty vows to one another, his faint lingering kiss on your cheek. You can blink your eyes and still see the way he left, his jaw clenched as he ignored the calls from his parents. How, even here, rumors seemed to follow you. 

Safe to say, you spent your meals alone. 

Not only that, but your rooms were entirely separate as well. You were told that you had to consummate the night of your marriage, but from what you’ve heard, your husband sleeps in an entirely different wing of the estate, with walls and corridors between the two of you. 

You tried taking your mind off of things, pretending as if this was normal. 

Most days you’d walk around, trying to familiarize yourself with the layout of the grounds. You’d walk the gardens a couple times each week, try to memorize the way back to different places, and stay in the library the other half of the time. 

A part of you was happy to at least be away from that miserable home, but it felt like swapping one prison for a slightly better one. Your maids were kind, of course, but you didn’t know anybody here. They treat you like a lady of noble ranking, as expected from being the wife of the Lord in the North, but you’d rather be given an apron and start working around instead of this mind-numbing boredom of just sitting around. 

You stare at your plate, chewing on a grape slowly. 

Looking up you see the sun filtering in through the large windows, illuminating the long table that sits like an empty grave. Clicking your tongue you pick up another grape, slumping in your seat as you look up. 

This is just the way things will be.

—

“Alina?”

You call out from your vanity, staring at your maid as she’s picking out different earrings for you to pick from for dinner. 

It’s a couple of days later, and still no word from Gojo. But that doesn’t mean that you haven’t stopped for a single second to not think about your supposed husband. 

You try not to care, pretend that you’re lucky that he’s not bothering you or going out of his way to remind you of this unfortunate situation, but above anything you just feel alone. 

The maid looks up, a curl falling from her tight bun as she smiles at you in the mirror. 

“Yes, my lady?” She stands up straighter, flattening out the wrinkles from her apron tied around her waist as she begins walking towards you with the jewelry. 

“Is this…is this normal?” You crane your neck around to look at the different pairs she’s holding up, nudging your head to the red ones that shine bright, and watch as she sets them down on your desk, resting her hand on your hip as she stares at you quizzically. 

“What do you mean?” She asks as you begin taking your earrings off, putting the new ones on yourself. In the beginning, she protested, saying that a woman of your caliber shouldn’t have to do such measly tasks. But the more you protested, she eventually gave up. 

“Do husbands and wives usually sleep separately?” you say, feeling your chest contract in embarrassment at the stupidness of your question. 

You watch as she swallows thickly, avoiding eye contact as she sets on fixing some parts of your hair. 

Staring patiently through the vanity mirror as you watch her work, Alina wets her lips, her eyes downcast as if not wanting to answer. 

“Was there somebody else he preferred to marry?” You decide to ask, twisting that knife that you knew was lodged in her side, one that was stopping her from talking, and watch as her eyes widen slightly in shock. 

“If you don’t answer I’m just going to keep asking more uncomfortable questions,” you warn and Alina snorts softly, shoving your shoulder a little bit as you crack a smile. 

She moves around, picking up a necklace, and begins clasping it behind your neck. 

“I…I don’t know. He’s always been pretty secretive and,” she looks at you briefly, “Selective. I don’t mean to speak ill of my lord but it would be stupid not to acknowledge his old ways. But we never heard of a specific girl.”

Alina places a gentle hand on your shoulder, a sad smile on her face. 

“You’re lucky my lady,” she says, her voice hushed, “Most wives don’t have the freedom to say their husbands don’t care what they do. Had you married that Zenin, you’d be pregnant by now.”

You shudder out a breath, nodding once more. 

“I’ll see you after dinner, my lady,” she says, moving out of the way as you stare quietly at the floor before leaving silently. 

—-

Tonight for dinner the cooks made you a wide array of different dishes, all from the Northern shore. There are different types of fish, each cooked in various ways. It looks delectable, a feast fit for a king. 

You feel awful, though, seeing that you can’t eat any of it. 

The last time you had fish your face swelled up and couldn’t breathe properly, so that family physician told you to steer away from it. But you’re here now, and it somehow slipped your mind to ever mention this little fact to them, so you’re awkwardly poking around some of the vegetables under the fish, looking for something to eat. 

You pile some potatoes and carrots on your plate, scraping off any bits of fish on them as you hold this wasn’t your last meal. 

The only sound that fills the room is your fork and knife sometimes hitting the porcelain plate, and you look up every now and then as you chew, looking at the paintings on the wall. 

You’re so focused on a portrait of an old man that you don’t even notice the figure standing at the entrance of the dining hall, not until you hear a muted curse. 

You look up instantly, your fork and knife dropping to the plate as you stare at the man in front of you, eyes wide at the sight of your husband. 

He stands there, blinking slowly as you stare back. 

You could swear time has never moved so slowly before. 

You can hear him mutter a quiet shit under his breath, not knowing if he should make this worse by turning around and leaving or if he should join you. 

He’s wearing a simple tunic, his face a little flushed, hairline beaded with sweat. Did he just come out of training? He must often do that, you decide, seeing how he must’ve felt comfortable enough walking in here without any clothing of import. 

His eyes seem to track your little movements; the way your chest rises and falls in a slow movement, the way your fingers have frozen in mid-air, lips slightly parting. Your eyes dart around the room, everybody seeming to have tensed up.

You open your mouth to say something, anything, but you’ve never been so moved to silence. It seemed as if years of learned vocabulary slipped your mind within an instant, and no matter how hard you tried, nothing was coming back.

Gojo looks behind his shoulder, at the large double doors he entered through, deep in thought. This would be the first time the two of you had seen each other in weeks, and his tirade of avoiding you has come to an end. It looks like an entire battle is being fought in his mind, and you don’t know what to do.

Suddenly, you watch as he shakes his head, deciding to give in and join you for dinner. 

The seconds go by like hours as he walks up to the seat at the other end of the table, staring at his seat for a brief second before he pushes it out and sits there. 

You don’t know what to do. 

Servants and maids quickly swarm the room, setting up his plate, cutlery, food, and drinks. It was all so hectic and rushed, but you were glad that it offered some sort of noise in the drowning silence.

A part of you wants to say something about the fish but you know this isn’t the right time. 

In the flurry of movements you allow yourself to discretely look at him a little better, seeing how the last time you saw him was so brief and hurried. 

The man radiates a different sort of aura you’ve never experienced before. While your father was one of the most powerful men in the West, Gojo was the strongest throughout the majority of the North and East. His frame took up the entire chair, his muscular shoulders and arms visible even through the loose fabric that was draped over him. You feel a little disappointed, knowing that if you were a different girl you’d probably be able to enjoy all of this. 

You try to make yourself seem indifferent, moving some of the vegetables in your plate around, but secretly just trying to shovel them down as fast as humanly possible to get out of this thick atmosphere. 

One of the men who was setting up some of the plates in front of Gojo takes notice of this, a smile overtaking his face as you briefly look up from your plate, startled to see the man walking closer to you.

“My lady, I’m so happy to see you enjoying our Northern delicacy!” He claps his hands together as you stare at him with wide eyes, your mouth still full of potatoes as you try chewing faster to get it all down before he gets closer to you. 

His eyes wrinkle around the edges, his graying mustache trimmed ever so carefully, and you can tell he’s trying to loosen up the tension, but you stare in abject horror as he stands at your foot of the table. 

“Would you like some more?” He motions to the fish that lay untouched in front of you, and you glance over to Gojo, hoping that maybe he is focused on his meal, only for your heart to sink at the fact that he is staring at you. 

“...y-yes,” you croak out, wiping some of the carrot remnants from the corners of your lips as you give him a wobbly smile, “It’s alright, I can serve myself,” you exclaim, trying to thwart him off as he quickly waves this aside, shaking his head as he grabs the tray, beginning to portion some hefty pieces of fish onto your plate.

You don’t have the heart to tell this jolly man that this amount of fish would kill you within an instant, or even that he was wasting this all on you, so you just sit there, giving him a tight-lipped smile as you try not to breathe it in too much. 

“Is that enough, my lady?” He asks, setting the tray down as you look at your plate now full of different sorts of sea creatures you swallow slowly, looking back up at him as you give a wobbly smile. 

“This is great,” you muster up and watch as an even larger smile takes over his face, and you feel awful for it, “Thank you so much,” you tell him, watching as he bows lowly, excusing himself as he, and the other servants, leave the room,

Leaving you and Gojo alone. 

You’re grateful that he’s already dug into his meal, not looking at a struggling you that’s moving the fish around with your fork as you try to find the last bits of vegetables you had saved up for yourself. 

The smell itself is enough to make your stomach turn, and you wince, reaching for your cup of wine to wash some of the nausea down.

“You have very good wine,” you say suddenly, against your will, and have an out-of-body experience as you realize what you just did. 

Gojo looks up from his plate, a little startled as he looks at you and the goblet in your hand, his white brows furrowed. 

He nods once, not saying anything, and you feel the strange need to continue, somehow enjoying the feeling of stabbing yourself in the foot.

“Our wine back home tasted like cow piss,” your eyes widened at your slip of crass language, “Er - not piss, um, urine…?” You wince even more, feeling as if a ghost with awful intentions had taken control over your body, “Not that I’ve had cow piss - urine!” You correct yourself, “But I imagine that if I had…that, um, it would taste like o-our wine back home...”

He’s staring at you, unblinking, and you smile awkwardly, raising the cup to him as a sort of cheers gesture. 

You count twenty seconds of silence in your head as you set the cup down, playing with your fork as you glance back up at him. Gojo looks as if he is regretting his decision to stay, his fingers tapping on his knife in a hurried sort of way. 

“I don’t really like wine,” you continue, feeling like the only thing that could stop you now was if somebody were to bludgeon you to death, “I like juice more. Oh, well, but I guess…wine is juice…?” you mutter to yourself, contradicting your own words mid-sentence, “Back home we had this mulberry juice and it tasted nice. Kind of like your wine,” he’s not even looking at you and so your words die, quieting down as you sink back into your seat, hoping it could eat you entirely. 

“Do you like wine?” You ask, tilting your head to the side, smiling faintly, awkwardly, “Or juice? Or… mulberries…?” 

He shakes his head, still not staring at you. 

“Did you have a good-”

“I prefer eating in silence.” Gojo finally said, raising his head slightly as he stared directly at you, watching as your mouth clamped shut. 

Your smile grows small, eyes falling to the table to hide the embarrassment in them. You give him a brief nod, mumbling a quiet apology under your breath as you begin moving some pieces of carrot around on your plate. 

You can hear the clinking of his utensils against his plate, wishing you could somehow fit an entire fish down your esophagus to escape this moment. 

You give it a couple of seconds, counting the groves in the wood of the table, and rise, stomach empty, heart churning as you finally excuse yourself. 

It only takes you minutes to find your room, quicker than last night, and allow yourself to sink against your bed, rubbing your skin raw of the rouge Alina had applied an hour earlier. 

—-

You don’t tell anybody of the awful encounter with the man that’s legally your husband, but you’re sure that those there to observe have already begun talking about it. You try to pretend nothing happened, but Alina could pick up on your closed-off demeanor that night, her hands gentler than usual when helping you take off your garments, her eyes filled with concern. 

“How was dinner, my lady?” She asked, staring at you as you waved off her worries, mustering up a lame excuse of a smile as you took off your silk shrug, avoiding any sort of eye contact as you slipped into your nightly garments. 

“It was good,” your words are void of emotion, “I had fish.” 

The following days are empty of any sight of your husband, but you’ve grown to find that normal. It doesn’t help that you can’t stop thinking about how idiotic you acted, your big mouth never knowing when to stop, tossing and turning in your bed at your excuse of an interaction. 

You continue with your old routine of walking around the estate, sometimes trying to track down Alina and your other maids, seeing if maybe they had some free time to spend with you. You know there’s a town nearby, the girls often talk about how they go there sometimes at night, but you’re too afraid of going out alone, not used to that sort of thing. 

Sometimes you sit out near the fields with a book, twisting the ring that’s searing into your finger, mindlessly taking in the words on the page. Other days you walk around the gardens, picking out some flowers for the vase in your room. On the days when you’re feeling really adventurous, you’d go near the east wing, where you’ve heard Gojo’s room is, and look at what sort of things lie there. But most times you chicken out, going back near your side just as quickly as you went.

You never see him at dinner again, knowing he wasn’t about to put himself through that torture again, so you go back to eating in silence, sometimes pretending that the chairs were full of people and that you were in one of those balls you longed to go to as a kid.

They seem to keep bringing fish out for you, and it’s in so many days deep that you’re in this sort of limbo where you can’t tell them you’re deathly allergic to it without feeling awful for all the work they’ve put in just to realize it’s gone to waste, so those nights, tonight, for example, you try finding as many vegetables as you can. 

The roasted asparagus and beets are lovely, but there was only so much of it. And you find yourself getting a little bit sick of it too, your stomach-churning as you try to chug as much water as you can to get rid of the dirt after-taste that the beets have.

You thank the cooks and the servants as you leave for the night, your stomach still relatively empty as you get to your room, telling Alina to leave early for the night as you get ready for bed by yourself, wanting to be with yourself just for a little bit. 

You lay on your bed, staring emptily at the ceiling, one hand on your stomach as if gurgling, still hungry for more. You try to sleep, trying to pretend like you were at your old home, those nights when this would be normal, but it’s no use. You’ve been too spoiled at the Gojo estate, and no matter how much you try to ignore the pang of hunger, it continues to bite you back. 

So you find yourself twisting off of the warm comfort of your bed, sitting in silence as you contemplate what you’re about to do, but give in, lighting a candle as you slide into some slippers, leaving your room as you try to find your way down to the kitchens. 

Thankfully, it’s well into the night when everybody is asleep, so this embarrassing walk of shame is only seen by the guards on duty. You walk down the testing staircase, careful to look around the corners for anybody there, but you’re alone. 

You make your way to the kitchens, not hard to find seeing that they’re near the dining hall, and you peep your head inside, a sigh of relief escaping your lips to find that it’s completely deserted. 

At your old home, your room was behind the kitchens. You grew up in a small room, nearly the size of a broom cupboard, but you made do with what you had. One benefit of this situation was that you were raised by the smell of different sorts of food, by people who specialized in the art of cooking. You knew how to make meals that nobody else in your family could even imagine, which you’re grateful for right now as you fumble around the kitchen, trying to find where they put different ingredients. 

You rummage through the cupboards, finding some eggs, bread, cheeses, and seasonings. You’re able to find the pots and pans a few feet away and start assembling everything for a little omelet.  

In your hurry of trying to be quiet and careful, you somehow manage to miss the large shadow figure that’s standing near the doorway, observing you. 

You crack the eggs into a bowl, beating them together with a fork you found, too tired to look for an actual whisk, turning around to throw the eggshells away when a cry of surprise escapes your lips. 

“Oh!” Your heart nearly falls right out of your ribcage, your hands flying to your chest as you find yourself staring at him, cheeks heating the way they seem to do whenever you’re looking at your husband. 

His blue eyes are tracking you, watching what you do, brows furrowed slightly as the two of you can’t do anything but stare at each other. 

“I…” You can’t find anything to say, looking at him and then behind your shoulder, to the things you have found, and swallow thickly, wetting your lips as you straighten your back up, suddenly aware of just how flimsy and bedroom-worthy your outfit is.

You can only stare at the ways his arms are crossed over his chest, biceps bulging, and lips pressed into a thin line. It seems like he wasn’t planning on seeing you here, yet another moment in which he’s probably going to regret somehow finding you in such a large estate.

“I’m making an omelet,” you finally say, your words falling like a whisper from your lips as you point to the eggshells now discarded in the trash, “I tried to be quiet…” you shake your head, eyes dropping from his heavy gaze for a second as you glance back up at him, lips upturned in an apologetic smile, “...sorry.” 

Gojo doesn’t say much, you’ve noticed that, but now you’re wondering if he has some sort of impediment that stops him from speaking to specific people. 

His chest rises briefly as he inhales, his white hair a little tussled as if he were sleeping. It doesn’t make sense why he’d be awoken, though. The kitchens are a far walk from the east wing…?

“I wasn’t asleep,” he finally says as if reading your mind, his voice deep as you feel it rattle your bones.

You nod once, not knowing what to do with the information. 

“Well…um,” you fidget with your fingers, “good, that’s good.” You nod once, as if that was all you were going to say, and look at the slight wrinkles in his clothes, crossing your arms over your chest, feeling naked with the way you’re not wearing any undergarments under your little nightly dress. 

“I’ll call for a cook,” Gojo murmurs, looking you up and down one final time as he turns to leave, seemingly done with this conversation. 

You sputter, shaking your head as you watch him turn to look at you through a confused stare. 

“No! Sorry…no, no need,” you say quickly, taking one step forward as if to stop him, “Please, it’s alright. I can cook myself,” you motion once more to your eggs and little station, noting the way he’s looking at you strangely, and so you feel the need to continue talking, perhaps one of your worst flaws.

Gojo looks at you finally, his fingers tapping on his arm. 

You notice that he’s not wearing his wedding ring, your chest filling with a strange feeling as you try to hide your ring-clad finger. “Do you not like their cooking?” He asks, and it takes a second for you to blink out of your stupor, a weird sensation in your throat as you shake your head slowly, trying to pull your eyes away from his hand. 

“I do,” you assure him, the words falling thickly from your lips, a lump in your chest, “I just feel bad waking them up right now,” you shrug as if you weren’t feeling any of these strange emotions, “And as I said, I can cook…so…” 

He nods, seemingly not believing you, not picking up on the storm that happening inside your head at the fact that he’s not wearing his wedding ring. You have to remind yourself that this isn’t an actual marriage, the ring was only for show. 

“Did you not eat dinner?” He continues, pressing, and your eyes widen slightly. 

You’ve always been terrible at lying, never able to do so. Even when your father's wife continued to drill you on who ate the candies from a party when you were younger, showing her your chocolate-stained fingers that you had hidden behind your back, not even a minute into the interrogation. 

“I did,” you say slowly, rubbing up and down your arms to warm them up from the chill breeze that seems to have picked up from the open windows, “The beets and asparagus were very nice,” you agree, not knowing what else to say without blowing this weird secret you’ve been holding onto. 

His brow raised slightly, lips pursing slightly. 

“And the fish?” 

You swallow once again, fidgeting with the fabric of your slip, your hands, your ring, and you don’t notice the way his eyes fall to the gold on your finger, darting back to your face when he notices you staring at him. 

“I…” you feel your face heating up beyond human measures, laughing awkwardly as you tug at your necklace chain, wishing that you hadn’t made that stupid decision to leave your comfortable bed, should’ve listened to your gut instead of your stomach, cursing your past self for being so rash, “I, um, I can’t…eat…fish.” 

Gojo’s stoic face, so sure and confident, seems to falter for a brief second.

His arms tighten over his chest. 

“...what?” He eventually asks after a couple of seconds of mind-bending silence, his head tipping in utter confusion as you sway from side to side on your feet, chewing your lips raw as you wish the ground could open up and never spit you back out. 

“The fish always looks great, don’t get me wrong,” you say quickly as if that’s going to do anything, “But I can’t eat fish. Otherwise I’ll swell right up and um, die…probably,” you wince at how bad you are at talking to people, your husband especially.

He lets out a little puff of air that sounds like a shocked scoff, eyes falling to the floor as he shakes his head, not understanding what you are saying. 

“But they’ve been cooking fish almost…four times a week?” 

You nod, smiling awkwardly, looking at the painting of a fish on the wall as you look back at him. 

“They have,” you affirm, leaning against a counter as he stays frozen in his spot at the door. 

“And you…you can’t have fish?” Gojo questions incredulously. 

“I’ll swell right up,” you repeat with a little smile that he doesn’t mirror, clearly not a man of humor, and you drop your hands to your side, “...kind of like a pufferfish.” You add quietly, looking at the ground as you say it. 

He coughs, his hand covering his mouth as you glance up at him, only to see him trying to hide the shocked laugh that had escaped him.

“Why didn’t you tell them?” He finally continues, and you hate the way all your hard work of just saying quiet isn’t working and is in fact, coming back to bite you in the ass. 

You shrug once more, shoving a grain of rice that was on the floor with the tip of your shoe.

“The first time it happened I figured I’d just tell them next time, but then that man kept on giving me more fish so I felt bad and I just never said anything.” 

Gojo stares at you, his eyes squinting together as if he were figuring out an enigma, a war strategy that even his best generals couldn’t get a grasp of. 

You look away, feeling like a fire was being lit under your skin. 

“Alright,” you say, clapping your hands together as your stomach grumbles once again, reminding you that it is still in desperate need of food, “I’ll be done soon. And I’ll clean up,” you promise, but you doubt he even cares as you begin to inch away from him. 

You watch as a strand of hair falls into his face, watch as he goes to move, never breaking his eye contact with you, until he looks behind you at the eggs and bread, and then to the window behind you, the moon as bright as ever.

He nods a final time, looking over you a final time before he exits. 

You make sure he’s far gone, letting out a heavy breath as you hold yourself up by the table, eyes wide at the fact that you had spoken more than two words to the man who seemed to despise your entire existence. 

You go back to your eggs, whisking them in silence as your mind reels. 

—

Gojo is there, for dinner, the following night. 

You enter the dining room to see him at the end of the table, already eating, and glances up briefly when he sees you walk in. 

Trying to hide the shock on your face you quickly look away, finding the way to your side of the table as you look around to see what they’ve given you tonight. A sigh of fleeting relief escapes your lips at the lack of fish, glad you’ll be going to sleep full of food tonight. 

You serve yourself, piling roasted meats and potatoes onto your plate as you fill your cup with water, not trusting wine after the last time you had it in his presence, and pretend that everything is normal as you pick up your knife and fork. 

His words rang in your mind from the last time, the fact that he ate in silence, so you forced yourself to clam up, knowing that it was probably from the best and save you from any more mortification. 

Your eyes fleet up now and then, grateful that he’s never looking up when you do, and give yourself some time to really take him in. Maybe in another universe where everything was normal, this could’ve just been another regular thing, and you try pretending that it is.

He’s probably only here because of a timing issue, you tell yourself, maybe this was the only time in the middle of training, state affairs, or other things that he was able to have dinner tonight. Yes, yes, that has to be it. 

You look back down at your plate, chewing as quietly as possible, missing the way he lifted his head to look up at you. 

—

Dinner with Gojo becomes a strange weekly occurrence.

The two of you eat in silence a couple of times a week, and every time it happens you’re so sure it’s going to be the last. 

On one of the nights you find yourself accompanied by the man you decide that the silence is more choking than whatever it is you find yourself saying. 

“Have you been notified about this…gathering in a couple of weeks?” 

This gathering was something you were told about that morning by Alina. One of the smaller families allied to the North, the Tokoshi’s, had invited you and your husband to join. 

“Yes,” Gojo says, and you’re a little surprised that he didn’t just give you a faint nod, “It shouldn’t be too big.” 

He cuts off a piece of his lamb, dipping it in some of the gravy as he glances up at you. 

You try to hide your excitement, not only from the fact that he’s spoken to you but also from the fact that this was an actual ball you would be able to go to. You knew that marrying him meant attending more of these sorts of events, but seeing how this was your first one, it was hard to not act a little giddy. 

“You have a lovely library,” you speak after carefully chewing through some of your food, your pointer finger resting on your fork as your legs crossed. 

Gojo glances up at you, those mesmerizing blue eyes finding yours from across the long table. 

“At my old home,” you pause briefly, wondering how he feels when you refer to his estate as your other home, “I wasn’t allowed to go into our library unless my tutors asked to have some of our sessions there. So I just wanted to say thank you for letting me - um, go there,” your words quiet down at the end, looking at the roasted pig in front of you momentarily as you wonder what you were even trying to get. 

He takes a sip of his wine. 

“The grounds are as much mine as they are yours,” he says, but his words sound rehearsed as if he were told to say this. 

“Even the east wing?” 

You regretted it the moment you asked it. 

Shit. 

Gojo opens his mouth and then shuts it. You chew on the inside of your cheek, waiting for him to speak, to say something, anything, but it reverts to that same silence that floods your senses and makes you aware of every other sound in the room.

Your burst of what you attempted at comedy seemed to keep coming back instantly in your face, a form of punishment for somebody who never knew how to make uncomfortable situations better.

Suddenly, all of your appetite is lost. Stupid, stupid, stupid, you can only chide yourself, the food in front of you, no matter how good it looked, felt like it would taste like ash on your tongue. You kept feeding this burning fire that was your marriage, expecting your hay-like words to act like water.

There’s a thick tension in the room, and you look around, blinking slowly as you fidget with your fingers. 

You try to go back to eating. 

You were wrong,

That initial silence was better. 

—-

That night you found yourself back in the kitchens. 

You’re wiping at your cheeks, hoping that the therapeutic motions of baking can help alleviate some of your many turmoils. 

When you were younger, you were used to silence. People normally avoided you, and those who didn’t weren’t ever your age. The cooks at your old estate were kind, but they were usually too busy to entertain a little girl. You would usually help the maids out with their washing and folding, rather doing something than nothing. You would listen in on their gossip and stories, always happy to be included. 

You assumed that it would be the same here. 

But the maids assured you that a lady of such high rank shouldn’t be meddling in such lowly tasks, and the cooks here were cooking for such a larger number of people that you knew you couldn’t bother them the way you used to. 

So you find yourself with a lot to say but nobody to say it to. The jokes and ideas that pop into your head fall flat because the old ladies who helped clean the bedsheets and used to laugh hearing them are no longer here. In those moments you’re with Alina or your other maids are sparse, and so you sometimes imagine that if you speak more when Gojo is around, he might warm up to you. 

You also had to remind yourself that your track record with men wasn’t the best either. Those fleeting crushes on some of the other boys who you’d see at balls always ended with them scurrying away from you as if you were the plague. The only other marriage offer you’d gotten was from a man who had struggled with finding a woman who could keep up with his awful ways. So the fact that Gojo Satoru, the most well-known man in the realm, didn’t want much to do with you wasn’t shocking. 

And Alina was right. A lot of wives aren’t as lucky to say their husbands don’t care, but you wondered how it would’ve been if he did. You exclaimed to her a couple of nights ago that you should’ve just married Naoya, but deep inside you knew that’s not what you wanted. A part of you knew ever since you agreed to this arrangement that you wouldn’t be getting an actual husband out of it. 

You sniffle, your eyes blurry. You don’t like crying in front of people, and so you allow yourself to do so in the pale moonlight of the kitchen, the only sound other than your ragged breathing being the repeated sound of flour falling softly in your mixing bowl. 

Baking was something that nobody ever could judge you about. You were good at it, and you knew you could do it with no error. Your cakes and pastries always turned out well, save for the minor problems you ran into as a kid, but you sometimes act like you’re baking for a group of people, about to take it out to see a sea of smiling faces who are happy to see you and your deserts.

“I thought you only cooked when they served fish for dinner.” 

A voice, one that’s seared into your memory, says from behind you. 

It takes everything in you not to jump from surprise, and it takes even more willpower not to turn around. 

You quickly wipe at your cheeks, breathing in to make sure your voice won’t come out in bits and pieces. You keep your back to your husband, continuing to sift your flour in the bowl, a continual motion like waves hitting against the dock.

“I’m baking,” you specify, cringing at the way you sound like you’re fighting a nasty cold. 

Gojo doesn’t say anything for a beat and does nothing to move. You’re glad he doesn’t, too scared that if he saw your puffy eyes or your tear-stained cheeks he’d begin to think that you have no backbone at all. It felt almost pathetic to have the world's strongest warrior see you recover from crying alone. 

He hums in the back of his throat at your words, and you wonder what he looks like right now. 

“I doubt these walls have seen a lady of such high rank before,” he comments, and you look up briefly from the mountain of white building up in the bowl, “They must whisper to themselves once you leave.” 

You let out a little puff of air, something resembling a soulless laugh. 

“Everyone whispers to themselves after I leave,” you say, reaching for a whisk, “I’ve heard more whispers than my own name.” 

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and you hope he doesn’t notice the way you quickly try to wipe at the corners of your eyes.

“You come down here a lot,” it’s posed as a question, but Gojo says it like a statement. He must have eyes everywhere, reporting to him what you’re doing. You wouldn’t be shocked, but you just nod, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you begin to whisk your dry ingredients together. 

“I hope it’s okay,” you throw in a pinch of salt as you mix, “I like the kitchen.” 

He let out a little breath as if he was about to chuckle, but then he got confused. You decide to spare him the endless questions that must be going on in his head, wondering why somebody in your position would prefer the kitchens rather than anywhere else. 

“My bedroom used to be behind a kitchen. I’d have to go through the pantry just to reach it,” you turn briefly to grab your bowl with the wet ingredients, pouring it slowly into your flour and sugar mixture, mixing it in slowly and carefully. 

“My father’s wife wanted me out of sight. That estate had never used one of its actual bedrooms to sleep the daughter of a whore,” you can hear him inhale sharply, “I woke up to the sounds of people shouting for different ingredients, to pots and pans clanging against each other. I learned how to cook and bake when I was young, and I usually helped them cook the food my family would eat for dinner.” 

When your batter is all mixed through you go to find the pan you have buttered and dusted with sugar, pouring it in as you wipe off the side of the bowl that had some remnants of batter dripping from it.

“They never asked me to, but I liked it. I liked feeling useful,” you peek over to your side, seeing him leaning against the wall adjacent to you, silent as a mouse. 

You walk over to the other side of the kitchen with your pan, careful with the lid to the brick oven, heated with the fire you had lit an hour ago, and slide your cake pan into it, closing it shut as you stand up straight. 

Finally, you look over at him. 

His eyes rake over your face, lingering on the circles underneath your eyes, the redness that stained the whites of them. He’s clad in the simple tunic and breeches he had worn to dinner hours ago, his large shoulders leaning on the wall as his arms lay crossed over his chest. 

“I won’t go to the east wing,” you say in a whisper, your voice quiet but heavy as it falls from your lips as a promise, trying to muster up a smile but it comes out wobbly, “I was just trying to make you laugh.” 

His lips looked pinker than usual as if he had been chewing on them, something you often did when you were deep in thought. His white hair had been messily pushed back as if his fingers had been combing through them continuously. 

“These grounds are yours,” Gojo says, his words thick from his throat. His exhale and inhale mirror the way you breathe, your two chests rising as though living with the same lungs.

You shrug, a melancholy look on your face as you shake your head. 

“Maybe if I was your wife,” your words are said without any malice, “But I’m just another person who sleeps here.” 

Gojo tilts his head slightly as if your statement had somehow wrenched itself into his mind, weighing it down. Even in the limited light, you could see the way he looked at you, an unreadable expression on his face.

“I’m sorry about all of this. I know I took away your chance to marry somebody you actually wanted, but my father told me you were okay with the arrangement. I wouldn’t have agreed to it otherwise,” you twist your wedding ring around your finger mindlessly, a little habit you’ve grown over the weeks here, “I never wanted to be selfish, and I truthfully never wanted a husband. I just wanted a friend.”

—

Ever since that night, you eat your meals in your room. 

Alina protested, saying it’s not right to eat alone, but you told her not to think about it, saying how you liked the silence. 

You mustered up the courage to ask some of the coachmen to take you to the nearby town, starting by looking around at the little shops, keeping a hood over your head in case somebody saw a new stranger.

Sometimes you’d go inside the shops, finding little trinkets that you thought your maids might like, or ornaments that might help fill up the empty spots around your room. You’ve never been able to decorate before with how small your old room was, so you decided to take advantage of its space.

When you’re walking around you sometimes see Gojo, either in the training yard or walking around with one of his advisors. There have been moments when the two of you catch each other's stares from across the room, but you’re always the first to look away, making sure you’re going in a different direction than him. 

You knew that you’d have to talk to him eventually, especially with the gathering that was coming up at the Tokoshi manor, but each night you pretended it was another day away, instead of one day closer. 

Your maids came bustling in and out of your room more often than usual with preparations for the night that was closing in, shoving you into different dresses, not satisfied until they found the right one.

Alina noticed your shift in demeanor, never picking and prodding at it, but silently observing. You could tell she knew something was wrong, but you didn’t know how to put exactly what you were feeling in words. 

It didn’t help that the closer you got to the night of the event Gojo seemed to be everywhere you were. The gardens, the library, the field, the stables. He probably just had business to attend to, but it didn’t help that whenever he saw you it looked like he wanted to say something. It also didn’t help that you’d scurry away when you saw him open his mouth. 

The weeks turned into days, the days into a day, and that day into hours and you found yourself perched uncomfortably on a chair as three different women attended to your face, hair, and accessories. 

You watch them work silently, taking in all the jewelry and makeup that you’ve been looking forward to wearing. It’s nothing too drastic, but that 

girl who longed to wear pretty things inside of you is gleaming right now. 

“…Lord Gojo requested for her to wear another pair of earrings,” one of your maids says, looking at the earrings Alina had picked out for you. 

Your ears perk up at the mention of his name, watching Alina as she perks an eyebrow up. 

“When did he request that?” 

The older lady looks at you in the mirror and then at Alina. 

“A couple of nights ago,” she shows Alina another pair, a sapphire one that seems to gleam brightly, “he dropped them off when she was…away…” the maid trails off, noticing the fact that you were eavesdropping.

Your eyes dart away as if that would help, but she quickly changes the topic, and you huff in annoyance as Alina sends you a knowing look.  

“Your husband is a strange man,” Alina mutters in your ear as you giggle quietly, rolling your eyes as she playfully shoves your shoulder. 

You don’t say anything in retaliation, and sit back as you put in your new earrings, grateful that they still complimented the color of your dress, and try to pretend you are going down for dinner rather than a gathering with people you didn’t know. 

You’ve been learning this entire week how to properly hold a spoon and fork, and how to cut your food appropriately. You’ve been taking dancing lessons, discovered how to properly greet people, and even learned how to gracefully enter and exit a horse-drawn carriage. All things you should’ve probably learned earlier, but were never able to. 

Alina helps you out of the chair when they are all done, giving you a second to look into the mirror. The dress they had wrangled you into was beautiful, your hair done in the way you liked. You thanked them all, expressing your endless gratitude for their hard work. 

You take a deep breath as you exit the room and go out into the hall, leading yourself down the stairs and through multiple corridors, trying to calm down your palpitating heart. 

It takes a few minutes but you find yourself at the front of the manor, standing alone and looking around, trying to see if you were at the wrong place. But in the distance, you can see the coachmen and the carriage, the door shut, still waiting for you. 

You take a tentative step forward, nearing the entranceway that leads outside, but feel a soft touch hovering above your elbow. 

It’s strange how he usually finds you before you find him, but as somebody who’s trained to know and find things before others do, you suppose it makes sense. You glance to your side, already expecting to see those cerulean eyes as you look up. 

Gojo looks good, somehow better than usual. 

He’s clad in dark blue garments, intricate with Northern design, and your eyes look up and down his entire body. His usual muscular build seems to be outlined by the stretch of his overcoat, the way the fabric is sitting snugly over his chest. 

He seems to be doing the same, though. You can feel his gaze drop to your dress, to the way your lips are a little redder than usual, your hair done in a way that suits your face. His eyes linger on your ears, and there’s a small, barely noticeable tug to the corners of his lips. 

“Ready?” Gojo asks, the first time he’s spoken in a couple of weeks, and you hum. 

He takes his hand away from your elbow as he rests it on the small of your back, and you feel heat travel from his fingertips through the fabric, through your corset, your undergarments, and straight to your skin. 

They bring the carriage out a little closer, a coachman opening the door for you. You brace yourself, heaving your dress upwards as you go to grasp the rail on the side.

But Gojo moves swiftly, offering you his glove-clad hand as you look over at him in surprise, taking it after a moment of hesitation, and haul yourself inside. 

It’s far bigger than the one you usually take to town, and you settle for a corner on the left-hand side near the window. The walls of the carriage are lined with this sort of fabric that feels like it’s lighter than a cloud, colored the traditional blue of the Gojo family. You’d guess it could fit at least an entire family comfortably, so you’re not too worried about the underskirt of your dress taking up too much space.

You watch Gojo follow you in. He looks around, having to duck his head (and a lot of his back) as he sits in front of you, pushing the strands of hair that had fallen into his face.

The two of you sit in awkward silence, your gaze settled on the door that they shut after Gojo entered, and your eyes quickly fall to your hands resting in your lap, neatly folded.

The carriage starts a little bit later, the wheels humming to life as the coachmen yip at the horses to start. The sudden rocking movement that you’ve become familiar with sways you side to side, and suddenly you're totally aware of the fact that you’re alone in a limited space with the man you’ve been avoiding for the better half of two weeks. 

You can feel his stare boring into the side of your head, can hear the way his breathing is coming out strangely as if he wanted to talk, but kept stopping himself off before he could say a word. 

“Did you like the earrings?” Gojo finally asks, and you glance up, eyes narrowing for a second in confusion as realization suddenly comes rushing in. 

“Hm? O-oh, yes!” You quickly stutter out, your hands flying to your ears as if you forgot they were there, “Yes, thank you. They were beautiful. They kind of looked like the inside of a belly button,” you say.

Your husband blinks, brows furrowed slightly as you think about what you had just said, eyes wide in shock.  

“Er…well, gods, no, not bellybuttons,” your head falls to your hands as you shake your head profusely, “Sorry, they don’t look like belly buttons-” 

But you stop when you hear a small laugh from him, quiet as he looks away for a second, a tiny slightly visible grin on his face as he looks back at you. 

“Did you know that sometimes,” his eyes are a little upturned as if he fighting back an actual smile, “I make a bet with myself about what you’re going to say?” 

You smile slightly, your head cocking to the side. 

“Have you ever won?” 

Gojo chuckles, and your eyes suddenly fall to his hand, at the way he’s fidgeting with his ring, his wedding ring, the same way you seem to do whenever you’re thinking about everything and anything all at once. 

“Not once.” 

You grin, and though you still feel this heavy weight of unspoken things resting in the middle of you two, you decide not to acknowledge it at the moment. Things unsaid, unheard, weaved through the air, tying you and him together like a tapestry. 

You fidget with your skirt, looking out the window at the moving scenery. 

Gojo breathes deeply through his nose, his pointed finger tapping on his thigh. 

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” he finally says, and your eyes dart away from the trees and the sky to look over at him. 

His bottom lip is caught underneath his teeth, his blue eyes shining with a different hue. He takes up a lot of room with just his size alone, but it looks like he’s trying to make himself seem less intimidating, less of a warrior, and more of a…person.

You don’t say anything, opting to stay quiet to see what it is that he is trying to formulate into words. 

“That night,” Gojo twists his ring back and forth with his thumb, “I…” It’s weird to see somebody so sure of themself struggle to speak, and your brows crease in the middle, not knowing what it was he was trying to get at. 

“I wanted to tell you that you too had a right to a good husband. Somebody who didn't rush you into a marriage because of his own mistakes…somebody you wanted.”

Where is he going with this?

You suddenly feel your throat dry up, swallowing thickly as Gojo looks out the window momentarily before looking back at you. 

“My parents never told me who I’d be marrying,” Gojo explains, his voice hoarse, “I figured out the day of the wedding,” he twisted his wedding ring, looking at the way it shined, “And I wanted to hate you,” 

His words punch you square in the gut, but you can only bring yourself to keep on looking at him.

“I wanted to hate you so much because it would be easier to act like this wasn’t my fault if I could…but,” he sighs, his chest rising and falling, “I don’t think it’s possible to hate you.” 

Your lip trembles slgihtly, a sheen over your eyes. What is he doing?

“I’ve been raised in a way most people our age aren’t. My parents wanted me to be the strongest so was put into training since I was four, and I think this entire time I’ve been trying to approach you like a…military strategy. You were this map in my head that no matter how I approached it nothing made sense. But that night, in the kitchen, everything finally did.” 

Your eyes flitter downwards so that he couldn’t see the waver in them

“You didn’t deserve how you were treated in your old life, nor this new one,” his hand covers his chest, and you feel lightheaded, “And I promise to you I’ll do everything in my power to make this one better. If you don’t want me as a husband, than as a friend.

“I’d like to be your friend, if you’d allow me,” he whispers thickly, his voice heavy. He fidgets with his fingers, moving them together and back out again, and you notice how he does this a lot whenever you’re near.

Your heart is beating so quickly that you feel like it's going to stop, and your mind is working so hectically that you don’t know what to think. This is the same man who looked at you as if you had torn down the moon and stars when he saw you the first time, the man who never seemed to be that interested in what it is you had to say. The very same person who would’ve rather married a broomstick than you. 

…right? 

And yet he’s here, asking to be your friend. Something that nobody has ever asked before, something that people wouldn’t ever dare to murmur out loud to you. He had no beneficial gain from doing this, no ally that he would please if he offered to be your friend.

Your heart twists because why does he look like he cares about what you say? His eyes are creased slightly around the edges, his lips pressed together as if he were preparing for whatever outcome it was to what you said.

Nobody has ever told you those things, the things that made years of pain and hurt strummed into one beat that your heart never wanted to drum to. This man, your husband, Gojo, was supposed to be another cog in that old machine, one that hummed and spurred like it was about to eat you alive. 

But the more you look at him, the more you let your unspoken words speak in silence for you, you realise that he isn’t lying.

You open your mouth to speak but are cut off when the carriage comes to a sudden halt. 

The two of you look at each other and then to the door, watching as it opens up, greeted to the sight of a large manor with multiple people walking in hand in hand. You swallow your bile, not knowing what to say, deciding to flee instead of face him like you should’ve. 

—

The gathering itself was far more boring than you imagined it to be. 

You and Gojo had the mutual understanding to act more…well, like a couple, than you actually were. You didn’t comment on the way his arm circled around your waist a couple of minutes into making your rounds talking with people or the endearing way he referred to you as my wife. 

You’re glad that he doesn’t do anything to talk about what he had told you in the carriage whenever the two of you were alone, acting like nothing was wrong and everything was normal as he inquired about your day. 

You told him brief things, still trying to shove his words out of your mind, but it was no use. I’d like to be your friend, your mind kept repeating, and you were too scared of brining it up in case he had changed his mind in between those minutes of quiet.

People you had never seen before congratulated you on your new marriage, their brows raised in that excited way as they motioned to your stomach, hinting at a special little someone who might be joining your lives soon. 

“Soon!” You said with a curt laugh, glancing momentarily at Gojo only to see him already looking at you, a light blush dusting his cheeks.

He made sure not to stay with people who were strangers to you for too long, not wanting to bore you to death, and allowed you to take in more of the well-lit and vastly decorated manor. 

Though its size was incomparable to the Gojo estate, it was still massive. The Tokoshi family had been a family with the Gojo one for centuries, so there was no question that the riches they had amassed over the years by being trading partners with them had culminated in this. 

Gojo told you earlier in the carriage, before everything else, how the young Tokoshi couple were good people. They liked to throw parties a couple of times a year, inviting only a select few. He liked them far more than a lot of the other people he had been forced to grow up with over the years. 

You look at the dining hall, at the corridors with openings that allow you to look outside without the glare of glass. His arm never left your body, holding you close to him as he let you walk around, your mouth hanging open slightly as you craned your neck to look at everything. Candles were lit everywhere, the bouquets of different assortments of flowers decorating the stone flower holders carved into the walls. 

You mentioned to him in the privacy of the carriage, that you hadn’t ever been able to experience a party of this sort of caliber before. You could see how he wanted to ask more questions, but you could see the answers already formulating his head as to why.

“We probably look like one of those couples where the wife’s dying and the husband takes her out to see the stars one last time,” you whisper to him, still looking around in a stunned sort of way at the beauty of it all. 

Gojo’s head ducks down a bit, trying to hide the chuckle that had broken out and made its way onto his face. He coughs into his fist as if that was the issue, but you look over at him to see the humor in his eyes. 

“Did you lose your bet again?” You ask, glancing at him from the corner of your eyes as he looks like he’s fighting the grin that’s threatening to take over. 

“I’m always losing that bet,” he tells you.

Though he doesn’t do anything to bring up his conversation, you can see it in the way he looks at you, as if he’s still teetering on an edge, wanting to know what you were thinking in that frazzled mind of yours. 

You decide to push past it.

“Can I get in on it?” You ask, turning slightly so that you face him, very aware of the fact that his hand hasn’t moved from its spot on your waist.

You try not to think about it, reminding yourself that it’s just for show, but you can’t stop the feeling of heat that travels wherever it is he seems to touch you. His hand is larger than an average one, his fingers moving mindlessly up and down on your corseted stomach. 

“Do you need the extra coin?” His voice is carrying a strange tone…is he teasing you? 

But again, you try not to think about it, it’s all for show, (you also try not to think too much of the fact that you’re pretty separated from everybody else).

“No, I just need coin,” you explain, fixing one of the medallions on his chest that had been slightly slanted, “I have nearly nothing left.” 

Gojo moves barely away from you, his eyes searching yours as if to find the joke. 

“Have you run through my family gold already?” His voice is still toying, but now it’s filled with a little confusion. 

“No, of course not,” you snort, rolling your eyes as you tilt your chin up to look at him better, “I haven’t touched any of your gold. I just ran through mine.” 

His brows quirks upward, mouth parting slightly. 

“You’ve emptied the gold your family sent up?” 

It’s your turn to be confused. 

“What gold?” You ask, moving away from him, his hand falling to his side, and you suddenly miss his warmth. 

You remember your father talking about how the Gojo family had rejected your initial dowry, saying something along the lines of outlandish practices, but aside from that, you weren’t told about any other sort of money that was supposed to be sent with you. 

He pinches the bridges of his nose, sighing deeply. 

“The gold that they sent with you? It wasn’t supposed to be a lot but it was supposed to suffice for the journey here.” 

You blink owlishly at him. 

“What gold have you run through?” He specifies, plastering on a fake smile when he catches the eyes of somebody behind you, but then focuses his stare back to you. 

“Well…” you shrug, “My gold.” 

Gojo looks like he’s about to make a new bet, one that’s with every time you’ve almost given him an aneurysm trying to figure out your strange riddles and rhymes that are supposed to be actual words. 

“I used to make some gold at my old home,” you explain, keeping your voice low in case somebody was somewhere that you hadn’t seen, but realizing that Gojo was lost, you continued, “The stable boy gave me some of his salary if I took care of the horses and cleaned the stables. Sometimes he’d give me extra if I could haul in the large bags of hay.” 

He scoffs, shaking his head slightly. 

“Why?” That seems to be a question he’s been asking lately. 

You shrug again, feeling his hand circle back around your waist as some people come near you, 

“I needed new clothes and my shoes had holes in them. My father’s wife didn’t let him give me much, so I tried to fill in the gaps.”

You smile at one of the couples that are coming near you, going back into your other persona as you begin chatting with them. Gojo pulls you in tighter to his side, staying silent. You don’t notice the way he hasn’t stopped staring at you, nor the way his heart seems to have churned so painfully in his chest. 

—

The night progresses and you find yourself inside the dining hall, being shown to your seats by one of the maids, finding your name next to Gojo’s on a name card. 

The two of you sit down, watching the people the file in, the sound of laughter filling the room, the clinking of china against each other filling in the rest of the silence. You take it all in with a smile, looking every and at everyone.

“I hope I’m not embarrassing you,” you whisper as you lean closer to Gojo, an apologetic smile on your face as you sit further into your seat, “This is all just so new to me.” 

You don’t see the ways his eyes soften, his hand inching closer to yours as he shakes his head. 

“You’re not embarrassing me,” he murmurs back, leaning his head closer to yours, wanting his words only to be heard by you, “I’m glad you’re enjoying this.” The smile that makes its way onto your face could power the universe, and Gojo feels like the wind had been knocked from his lungs, far worse than in training when somebody's foot slams into his chest. 

“I am!” Your enthusiastic and hurried words are hushed, but he can still hear the way you’re trying to hide your joy. The small talk is horrific,” he laughs a little bit, “but still I love it.” 

He opens his mouth to speak but is cut off by the sound of a knife hitting glass. 

“Everyone! Give me your time, just for a moment!” Miyo Tokoshi, whom you spoke to briefly, stands up, his chair behind him.

All eyes in the room fall on him, people still smiling, their teeth glimmering in the light. 

“I cannot express my joy to be in a room with you all tonight,” he says, looking around the room, making sure he saw everyone for a split second. “And my wife and I couldn’t be more ecstatic to host the first gathering of the season!”

You look at the woman sitting next to him, Lana, who you had also met momentarily, is gleaming at him, her face full of genuine adoration. She, along with everybody else, claps, laughing joyfully. 

You wonder if this is what a real husband and wife should look like, and you look briefly over to Gojo, your mind reeling with the charade the two of you have been playing this entire night. 

“And we couldn’t be happier to welcome the first couple of the year,” he exclaims, pointing his glass over to you and Gojo, saying your name and then your husbands as he claps his hand softly against his wrist, “May every moment you spend together be better than the last. We wish the two of nothing but a lifetime of happiness and prosperity. 

Gojo raised his glass to him, his hand grasping yours as he lifted it to his lips, planting a kiss on the back of it. 

You feel like you’ve stopped breathing with the linger of his lips on your skin, the last time that happened on the night of your wedding, and watching him grasp it even tighter when he sets it back down, weaving his fingers through yours. 

Stop, you chide, raising your glass as well, a shaky smile on your face, it’s just an act.

He winks at the two of you, nodding once more as he focuses his stare somewhere down the table, obstructed by where you are sitting.

“And to the future couple! Naoya and Freya!” 

Gojo turned his head immediately to look at you, watching the color drain from your face, and before you knew it, the man, Naoya, was standing up, a hand over his chest in faux gratitude as he thanked the host. 

You could never mistake that hair, the feline look in his eyes as he scanned across the room, a slimy smile on his face. You watch as it grows even wider when he finally catches his prey when he finally sees you, and you feel nauseous, like you’re about to throw up all those little crackers they had given you earlier that evening. 

The hand holding yours squeezes, knowing he can’t say anything right now, and you swallow thickly, eyes darting over to his as you feel your head about to sway. 

Naoya’s here. The man you turned down for Gojo. 

The rest of Tokoshi’s speech is muted to you. It feels like your head is being held underwater, and you feel sweat dotting your forehead, your chest, and your palms. You can feel Gojo’s eyes on the side of your head and can tell he’s trying to tell you something silently. 

The clinking of glass brings you out of your haze, looking up mindlessly as you haphazardly clink yours against Gojo’s, rubbing a hand down your face as if that would help. 

You're grateful for the flurry of movements and noises, everybody talking to somebody, the people beginning to serve themselves the wide array of food places in front of them. 

Gojo squeezes your hand one more time, and you finally look over at him, trying to muster up a smile but with how queasy you feel and the way your head spinning, it probably looks like you’re about to be sick all over him. 

“I’ll be okay,” you say through clenched teeth. 

Gojo nods, his thumb rubbing up and down your hand in a soothing way. It’s just for show. 

“I’m sorry my palms are sweating,” you laugh mirthlessly, and he squeezes it again, you’re sure he’s only doing this because of the extra attention of the two of you ever since they realized you and Naoya were in the same room, “you don’t have to keep holding it.” 

“Do you want me to let go?” He asks, and you stop poking around at the turnips on your plate. 

No. 

“N-no,” you croak out, desperate for his touch that’s grounding you, “No, please.” 

Gojo nods, his thumb not stopping its comforting motion of moving up and down. 

“Don’t worry,” he mutters, leaning closer to you as you duck your head so that your ears are near his lips, “My hands get sweaty too.” 

You laugh quietly and it sounds like wind chimes. You look at Gojo and watch as his lips tug upwards into a soft smile, one you had never seen before, and one you thought you never would. 

—

You tried to hide away the rest of the party, but Gojo didn’t seem to mind. 

When it was time to leave you accepted the gracious hug of the hosting couple, promising them that you’d come back for a more private dinner, and let Gojo lead you out into the courtyard where all the carriages were held. 

You slept the entire ride home, not wanting to mess anything up by taking, and you’re happy that Gojo didn’t bother you. You felt groggy when you returned to the estate, grateful for Gojo’s steady hand as he helped you out of the carriage. The two of you looked like you wanted to say something, but couldn’t, so you bid each other good night and went your separate ways.

Separate except for one brief moment. 

You were walking away and up the stairs when you suddenly stopped, remembering what it was that you wanted to tell him. You call out his name, watching as he turns, white brows slightly furrowed. 

“I…” you start but realize you didn’t exactly have a plan for what you wanted to say. He gives you his patience, not looking annoyed or frustrated when you try to think of the right words to string together. 

“I…I would like to be your friend too,” you finally say, and watch as a smile forms on his face, his pink lips tugging upwards in a way that made his eyes shine, the way your earrings did in the candlelight. 

He rakes his hand through his snow-white locks, pushing them away from his face. 

“I’ll see you at breakfast then,” Gojo says, and you dip your head down in a small smile. 

You give him a small wave, disappearing as you round the corner.

And since then, you found him joining you not only for breakfast or the sparse dinners but for any meal he possibly could. 

Gojo talked more, about anything and everything, and you did the same. 

You realized that he was actually an open person the closer you got to him, seeing that he too was capable of laughing and making jokes, his teasing eyes growing more frequent the closer your chairs got to the dinner table until you eventually just sat side-by-side, growing tired of shouting at each other across its length. 

On the days he wasn’t busy with strategizing or talking to other lords, he’d walk around the estate with you, telling you stories from his childhood, the times he’d run amock around the halls. Other times the two of you would go into town, looking at the different stores together. 

You could tell he was trying, could see it in the way he glanced at you from time to time to make sure that you were doing well. 

He’d accompany you to the library if you asked him to, and you’d go down sometimes to the training yard just to see him. Gojo would never tell you how much he tried to show off when you were there and knew he never had to. You could see the way he tried to appear even stronger when fighting with one of the other men, the poor soldier coming out with bruises and cuts all over his body.

Over many weeks, you find yourself looking forward to spending time with him, and a part of your cracked self begins mending itself again. 

It felt like after years of searching for somebody, somebody found you. 

On one of the nights when his sparring had gone on for far longer than it usually does, you decided to head down to the training yard after your night bath, tugging on a large robe over yourself as you walked the familiar stone steps down to where you knew he was. 

You could hear them before you saw them, a cacophony of fists hitting skin, groans, shouts from one another. There was a little perch from where you could watch what was happening below, and you usually hid yourself in a corner so that they wouldn’t see you. 

You’d rest on a pillar, arms crossed over your shoulder as you looked at the men below. Gojo was always easy to find, the flurry of white hair a tall-tale sign of where he was. You had watched him before, but you never got tired of it. You found it almost inhuman the way his movements seemed to flow like water, the way his hits were precise and direct. 

Gojo truly was the best warrior the North had ever seen, and sometimes you forget that you’re married to a man who brought down entire armies with just his bare fists. 

You watch as he jests with one of his friends, his chest rising a little bit at an irregular pace, slightly out of breath, but happy to be there. He turns to one of the guys behind him to say something, but his eyes immediately track upwards to the figure trying to stay hidden, you and a wide smile break out on his face. 

He waves at you, and it gets the attention of the other men there. They all turn to see where you are, their boyish grins and calls making you roll your eyes at their antics, your face heating up slightly as you wave back at them. 

Gojo says something to the person next to him, and you hear the man shout at the other ones to wrap it up for the night. Some of them wave goodbye to you as they begin exiting, going back to their common rooms. 

You make a move to lean slightly over the railing, your arms crossed over the wood as you peer down at the ground where Gojo remained alone, finding him to already be looking up at you. 

“Care to come down?” He juts his chin at the staircase to your left, the one that leads down to the courtyard, and you nod, disappearing behind the stone pillars as you take the steps leading downwards. 

You’ve been here a couple of times, as per your own request. You wanted to see what they did during training, what the training yard actually looked like from the ground. You lift the ends of your dress up slightly as you near the bottom, rounding the corner to see Gojo standing in the middle. 

He’s waiting for you, his eyes tracking your movements as you come near to him. 

His nose twitches slightly, his eyes squinting as he lifts his head in the air, suddenly picking up the scent of something unusual. 

“What’s that smell?” Gojo asks as you come to him, his eyes looking over your body as if it were emitting from you. 

You scoff, appalled, and then suddenly remember that Alina had applied some lavender oil to you after your bath. 

“If it’s a good smell then me,” you cross your arms over your chest, nose wrinkling in disgust as you take in his smell of sweat and grime, “If bad then you.”

Gojo snorts, coming closer to you as he continues sniffing, exaggerating the sound. You step away from him slightly, the smell of sweat overpowering, and he takes notice of this. 

“What?” He inquires, annoyed that you are moving away from him, and he takes a step closer. 

“What do you mean what?” You tease, moving again as he tries to smell the air, “You smell like an army of unshowered men. I just took a bath.” 

Gojo seems offended at this, trying to move back closer to you but you side-step him, apparently serious about this. 

“You really won’t let me come near you?” He sounds like you’ve kicked him down, his cheeks stained pink from earlier, and you laugh slightly, shaking your head. 

“I really won’t,” you affirm, shoving the back of your wrist to him to show him that what he was smelling was in fact you, “See? Lavender oil.” 

Gojo just seems to be getting more annoyed the more you try to evade him, his blue eyes swirling with an idea as you look at him in worry. 

“No, the smell is coming from somewhere else.” He argues, changing his footing so that he stands right in front of you and you let out a shocked laugh, not expecting this as you take a step back. 

You don’t know where else he can smell the lavender oil. Alina dotted it to your wrists and your neck, but surely can’t differentiate the difference in location…right? 

“Come here,” he almost whines, “I’m not going to rub off my smell onto you.” 

You laugh again out loud, picking up the skirt of your dress as you try to outrun him slightly. 

“You will!” You insist, motioning to the sheen of sweat on his body, “You reek of sweat. I swear it’s just lavender oil!” 

He groans, his eyes rolling to the back of his head at this inconvenience. 

“You’re killing me right now,” Gojo dramatically grabs his chest, “You won’t let me smell this strange aroma and it’s killing me,” his face breaking into a little pout as you laugh even louder, shocked at how petulant he was being. Your laughing seemed to spur him on even more, running towards you as you ran backward, hoping you didn’t trip on the fabric of your dress. 

“You have a plethora of bottles of lavender oil in your own room,” you argue, “this isn’t something innovative that you’ve never smelled before.” 

Gojo shakes his head, and your heart flutters at the way his smile is so playful and teasing, the way some of his hair falls into his face in that messy way when he’s usually training and not caring about his appearance. 

“It’ll only take a second,” he reasons and you shake your head no, your eyes both shining with playful laughter. 

The courtyards lead out into the large fields of the Gojo estate, and you look behind yourself at the opening. It’s night, there’s nobody around. Nobody would judge you for running away from your sweaty husband. 

You look back at him, see the gleam in his eyes, and know that he’s not going to back down. 

He can see the thoughts forming in your head, can assume them before they’re even created, and so he’s straight on your heels as you sprint away from him, a large smile on your face as you squeal out loud. 

“Please!” You shout over your shoulder, running down the little hill as the moon lights the way for you, “I just took a bath! Leave me alone!” 

You can hear the grass rustling beneath your feet, your screams of laughter contagious as you try to outrun the fastest person ever, and try not to slow yourself down by looking over your shoulder to see where he is. 

But after a couple of seconds of running you realize that the only footsteps you hear are your own, and you pause momentarily to look behind you and are surprised to see that he’s not there. 

Did he not come after you? 

You look around the field, the large blades of grass looking like waves that move with the wind, and whip your head around every time you hear a twig snap. 

You're a little bit further away from the manor itself, and the only thing you can see besides its large stone walls are the torches lit outside. You can make out the guards who are standing outside, but no sign of Gojo. 

You try to catch your breath, confused as to where he could’ve gone when a force stronger than a horse running at full speed slams into your side. 

The scream you let out echoes around the field, and you brace yourself for the harsh impact of hitting the ground. With your eyes squeezed shut you wait for the flash of pain, but peek them open to see Gojo framing your head with one of his hands, his body shielding you from the impact as he lays on top of you. 

“How…?” You scream, your chest moving up and down with your fit of giggles, trying to push him off of you, “You’re a beast!” You cry out, moving your head to the side as he laughs along with you, his chest rumbling with the movement. 

You shove his face away with the palm of your hands, shoving your wrist into his nose as if that would satiate him. 

“I took a bath you behemoth!” You whine, thinking about the dirt and mud that must be staining your skin and dress right now, “Are you so void of any good fragrance in your life that you must hunt me down for it?” 

Gojo tsks, shaking his head as he swats your wrist aside. 

He’s also slightly out of breath, most likely because he ran across and entire field from another entranceway that you weren’t aware of to catch you off guard, and you’re suddenly very aware of just how close to two of you are together. 

His hand is still cradling your head, the other one holding your hips. Truthfully he doesn’t even smell bad, which is frustrating that it’s just another one of his many talents. 

He judges your jaw up with his nose, and you helplessly comply, your heart hammering wildly as he leans in closer to the skin of your neck, taking in a whiff as he looks back up to you, his eyes gleaming. 

Gojo’s hand on your hip moves up slightly to hold your waist, not hard, but to stop you from squirming around. 

“It smells different here,” he nudges your neck with his nose again, and your breathing hitches, “Smells sweeter.” 

You swallow thickly, blinking slowly as you crane your neck slightly upwards to give him more room. It’s like your body is moving on its own, and you’re not to sure how you know what to do, but you just do. 

“That’s not possible,” you try to argue, trying your best to keep your voice from wavering, “You just lack the nose for good oils.” 

Gojo laughs lowly, shaking his head at your antics as he braces his knees on either side of your thighs, caging you in. 

“I have a very keen sense of smell,” he boasts and you snort, looking away as he pinches your hip to which you yelp.

His hand moves away from your head and to your shoulder, to where your nightgown had slightly slipped off and runs a thumb down a patch of your skin where it was slightly raised, a faint scar on your collarbone. 

“Where’d you get this?” His voice is slightly hushed, and you look down from your chin to where he is talking about. 

 “Hm?” You look around, see that he’s pointing to the tiniest little scar, and chuckle slightly, “Oh, that?” Your eyes squint as you try to remember, “I tried to climb up a tree once when I was little and fell.” Gojo huffs out a little laugh, his eyes still focused on your skin as you chew on the inside of your cheek.

“It probably looks far worse compared to anything you have,” you say sarcastically, “The family physician kept saying I wasn’t going to make it through the night.” 

He scoffs, rolling his eyes at your antics as he raises himself, moving away from you as he sits back down on the grass. You miss his warmth, the way his heat radiated onto you like a furnace. 

“I don’t know how you keep surviving between your inability to consume fish and your near-death occurrences,” Gojo’s voice holds a teasing tone and you smile, moving up so that you’re facing him. 

You rest your weight back on your hands, kicking your legs out in front of you as your skirt flows around the grass. A while ago you would’ve felt improper sitting like this in front of anyone, but you don’t seem to care all that much when it’s Gojo. 

“I showed you my battle would,” you say, putting one leg on top of the other, “What’s your worst one?” You ask, tilting your head to the side in questioning. 

Gojo purses his lip, thinking. 

You imagine that he’d tell you or probably motion to where it was, but a second later you watch, shocked, as he tugs his tunic upwards, your face heating as he rises it slightly so that you can see a part of his stomach. 

You hate how utterly built he is. 

His skin is pulled taught over the smooth stomach of his abs, his chest huge with pure muscle, his arms, bulging through the sleeves. It’s something you thought you’d get used to, something you told yourself to stop ogling at, but never could.

But you shift your focus to a large scar that runs across his chest, from the bottom of his hip under his arm. It still looks relatively new, and the scar itself still pink. You could see the way it was jagged, not one smooth line, and gods, fuck, why do you want to touch it?

“Well,” you try to think of something witty to say, seeing the way he’s looking at you as if waiting for it, “Clearly not as bad as mine, but it comes in as a close second.” 

He throws his head back as he laughs, his muscles contracting as he does so. You feel flushed, not able to look away from the scar, knowing that you were merely compensating for not knowing what to say. 

“I know,” he says eventually with a shrug, looking down as he surveys the scar, “It’s not as bad as it could’ve been.” 

You pout slightly, thinking. 

“Does it hurt?” 

He looks up at you, at the way you can’t take your eyes away from it, and shakes his head. 

“Not anymore,” he sits up a little straighter, closer to you as you watch him move, “Sometimes I can feel it sting, but it’s barely noticeable.” 

You beg to differ. 

The two of you don’t say anything and a part of you has decided that silence is bad for you. Because before you can really think about what you’re doing, you push yourself upwards, leaning in closer to him as you try to get a better look at it. 

He doesn’t say anything, but if only you could see the way he could barely use his lungs to breath right now you’d make some sly remark about how the best warrior of the North was growing shy from just a look. 

But suddenly you’re not looking anymore as you shuffle in a little closer, your fingers reaching upwards to touch the skin. 

You can hear the wind move around you, the grass rustiling as your fingers run across the scar. His abs flex at the coldness of your hand, but he doesn’t tell you to stop. You’re studying it intently, wondering what sort of weapon could’ve caused this. 

Gojo’s size dwarfs over yours, but you don’t seem to mind. Your lips as slightly pursed as you take it in. 

“Did you fight a bear?” You finally ask, peeking up to look at him. 

You’re startled by the way the flush on his cheeks has grown even more red, or the way you can’t see the blues in his eyes anymore. Has he always looked like that?

Gojo shakes his head, taking in a shaky breath, looking at the top of your head as you go back to looking at the scar. 

“Nearly,” he tries to joke, but his voice is weak, laced with need, “But I doubt a bear would even want to be compared to the man who gave me the scar.” 

You look up, your brow quirked in curiosity. 

“Who?” You ask, shocked at how quiet your voice came out. 

Gojo smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His tongue clicks against his teeth, his hand rising up to grab yours, pulling it away from his chest. He can’t bear to have you touching him like that anymore, not trusting himself to restrain the pure desire that bubbling inside his veins. 

“Naoya,” he says hushed, watching as your lips part and eyes widen. 

There’s a beat of silence, a moment when you think you can hear your heart beating in the same rhythm his is. 

Your hand curls into itself, shock taking over your features as your eyes drop to his scar and then back up to him. You find yourself wanting to say everything and anything, but can’t somehow find the words that you’re looking for. Gojo beats you to it, thankfully. 

“I’ve been having this recurring dream ever since I fought him of that same moment over and over again when he cut me open. But it’s changed, recently,” He sits up straighter, so close to you that your chests are almost touching, “And I keep seeing him marrying you, what would’ve happened if you had said yes.”

“And gods, fuck,” he ducks his head down, raking an agitated hand through his hair, making it even more messy, “I…” He chokes on his breath, looking back at you, and suddenly you see the glossiness in his eyes, the way that tears brim his waterline. 

And suddenly you see the Gojo Satoru, the Lord in the North, the most powerful man alive, cry. 

“I keep reprimanding Naoya in my head about how awful he is, about how I’d kill nearly every person alive if he ever touched you, b-but I was just as awful. I think about the first time I saw you, about the first weeks you were here. I think about how you must’ve felt, how alone you were. Every day…” he wipes messily at his cheeks, his lips wobbling, “Every day I wake up and think of you. I think about your face, your smile, your eyes, your lips, the way your nose scrunches, that line between your brows when you're confused, and every night I go to sleep hoping that this was all an awful dream and I haven’t ruined your life, but then I wake up, and it starts all over again.” 

“I know I’m a selfish man,” Gojo says with a wet chuckle, his cheeks wet with tears, “I know I shouldn’t, but I want you to myself, I want you forever. I want to be your friend, I want to be the person you sleep next to, the person you go to when you want to talk about your little stories. I want to hear your jokes and I want to see you laugh. I want to hold your hand, I want to put that ring on your finger every morning, and I want to propose to you each night.”

He shakes his head, swallowing his cries down, the moon lighting the tear tracks that start from his eyes and end at his chin. 

“But I know you don’t want that. You told me that you wanted a friend, but…” he shrugged, his smile sad, aching, longing, “I think along the way of being your friend I realized I wanted to be your husband too.” 

“I understand if you want to leave. I’ll tell my parents the truth, they’ll understand. I have a house ready for you near the sea, one away from your family, where you can start over.” 

The wind rustles the hills, and you look at the field, watch the way it moves in tandem with the life around it. 

You can feel the tears forming in your eyes, and know that even if you blink them away it’ll do nothing to actually hide them. There’s a burning feeling in your chest, one that you’ve never felt before, one that rings with Gojo’s words. 

You run your fingers through the grass, looking up at him with a certain fire in your eyes.

“What if I don’t want that?”

He blinks slowly. 

“I,” Gojo sniffs, nodding profusely, hoping you don’t see the way he crumbles, “I understand, I promise I do. The house is a couple days-” 

“No,” you cut him off firmly, wiping your palms furisuly across your cheeks, to rid them of the pesky tears, shaking your head, “What if I don’t want that?” You move up to him, reaching your hand down his tunic, your fingers moving against is chest as you dig out the gold chain that’s wrapped around his neck. 

The one that holds his ring, the one he told you about one night that keeps it safe whenever he’s training. 

“What if I want this?” Your voice is cracking, and you tug the chain tighter.

“What if I want all those things? What if I want you to love me?” The ring shines in the moonlight, mirroring her pair thats wrapped around your finger, “I want to be your friend,” you stress, your brows strewn together as tears overflow from your waterline, “And I want to know what things you like. I want to walk with you all around the earth and walk back home again. I want to sleep next to you. I want to make you laugh, and I want you to make me smile. I want you to be my husband so that I can be your wife,” you cry out, your chest heaving up and down as he wraps his arms around your back, pulling you into his lap as he tries to quickly wipe your tears away. 

“I want you too, Satoru,” you whisper, broken with your wet sniffles, a wet laugh escaping your lips when you see him crack at the way you said his name with so much care, your thumbs gliding across his cheeks. 

You slide closer into him, your legs splitting across his huge thighs as he hugs you tenderly to him, his head resting on your chest so that he can hear your heartbeat, make sure that this wasn’t just another dream.

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmurs against your bosom, looking up at you with glistening eyes. 

“Then fight for me,” you whisper, your hands on either side of his face, “Give me all those things. Give me more,” you smile when his arms wrap around your waist a little tighter, his hands holding you up, “And I’ll do the same.” 

He nods, holding your hand that was still holding onto his ring to his chest, one hand moving to your back, and in the mess of tears and broken laughs the two of you seem to move together, meeting each other in the middle as your lips find each other in the dark shadows of night. 

You gasp when his lips capture yours, and he moves towards the sound, wanting to hold it, keep it forever. 

Gojo moves slowly, knowing that this is your first time, and cups your jaw, helping you move along with him as you lips slot and lock against each other. It’s messy and with no order, your chin staining with sweat as you moan against him, feeling delirious without the touch of him. 

You know this isn’t the easiest position for him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He groans against you, his eyes squeezing shut, trying to memorize your taste in case the world ended tomorrow and this was his last meal. 

“Is this-” You cut him off when you swoop in again, his laughter cut short by your needienss, the way you paw at his chest, your hands winding up to his hair as you tug harshly on the soft strands. 

He moans at this, at the way you grind mindlessly on his thigh, your need for each other bleeding out into the open. 

“I love you,” he murmurs against you, kissing down your chin and then back up to you, his tongue swiping against your lips, savroing your whine, “I love you so much,” he says to everybody, hoping even those on mountains oceans away could hear, “I love you, my wife,” and you giggle, eyes bright when you hear those words. 

“Say it again,” you ask, your nails drawing little shapes on his nape, and you see him break into a smile. 

“My wife,” he repeats with a peck to your cheek, “My beautiful wife,” he kisses the tip of your nose, smiling at the way it scrunhed up slightly, just the way he adored, “My wife,” he kisses your jaw, “My wife,” your giggling nonstop and he hopes to bottle up the sound and hear it on his deathbed.

His hands travel back down to your hips, adusjsting you slightly so that you wouldn’t feelt he embarrassing hardening of his dick just from kissing you, and moves his lips down to your neck, hearing the way there’s a hitch in your laughter. 

“Why’d you stop?” he nudges his nose at that spot pf your neck that still smells like lavender, his favroite scent in the world, “Hm?” Gojo hums against that spot, licking a wet stripe up it, sucking at the skin, feeling the way you arch into his chest. 

“Y-your reeking s-scent infiltrated my nose,” you murmur, biting on your lip as he pinches your waist. 

“Yeah?” Gojo continued to tease you, sliding the sleeve of your dress down, giving you more access to the skin of your collarbone, “Want me to stop?” 

“No!” You cry, totally against your better judgement, moaning when he sucks another mark into the skin, biting it, and then presses a soft kiss to it as an apology, “Please, please, don’t stop.” 

He chuckles darkly, shifting you around so that you are lying back down on the ground, his body framing yours as he continues tugging down your dress, going slow in case you ever wanted him to stop. 

His fingers are quick at untying the string that holds you bodice together, unravelingit all until it falls off and he’s greeted to the sight of your heaving chest, the way your naked breasts rise and fall. 

Gojo blinks for a moment, forgetting how to move. 

“W-what?” You ask, a little self-conscience as he continues to stare at your chest, “Do they look wonky?” You move your hands to cover up but a deep gutteral growl escapes his lips, pinning your hands back. 

“Beautiful,” he bites out, moving his head down, pressing a wet kiss in between the valley of your breasts, “You look like a fuckin’ statue,” he says, “You’re s-so beautiful.” Gojo repeats, and you can’t protest with the way he praises you, nor the way his lips hover over a nipple, finally leaning in fully as he sucks on it. 

“F-fuck!” You cry out at the sensation, your fingers lost in his hair as you keep him there, back arching off the ground, “That, that feels…good,” you can’t speak, not with the way his tongue slides across your nipple, pressing little kisses around you areola. 

His other hand goes to your other one, making sure she’s not feeling lonely, his thumb flicking over your sensitive nipples as you whine even louder. 

Gojo switches and you feel your breath shudder in an embarrassing whimper, your eeys squeezing shut when he bites at you, wanting to mark you up for those wretched gods to see and feel humanly jealous over. 

“So soft,” he murmurs against your skin, almost in awe, “feels like silk.” 

You would’ve had a witty joke about this, you know you did, but you can’t fathom to think about anything other than the way his lips feel on your tits, the way he seems like he’d die had he not been here sooner. 

But he then raises his head, and you whine in protest. Gojo almost break at the way you’re looking up at him, the way yor lips tremble from sheer desire. 

“Want more?” He presses, his hands, warmer than the fire that’s burning in your belly, trailing down, down to where your dress was slightly parting, “Here?” 

“Y-yes, fuck,” you moan, parting your legs to make room for him, not knowing what this feeling was but knowing that he was the only one who could soothe it, “Need it so bad Sa-satoru,” 

His eyes roll back, swallowing his primal groan at the way you plead for him, and nods, pressing a kiss against your stomach before his hitches the fabric upwards, sliding down your body so that his face is closer to that heat. 

You know you should feel more shame, but you feel like you’re going to die if your husband doesn’t do something soon. 

Gojo’s hand travels up your calf, trailing up your thigh, and suddenly stops. 

You go to beg, plead, for him, but cut yourself off when his lips find your inner thighs, pressign wet and messy kisses to them, getting dangerously close to where you felt like you were leaking. 

“You’re divine,” he whispers against your skin, hands wrapping around your thighs as he pulls them apart, “Fuckin’ divine.” 

His lips suddenly find there, you glistening cunt, and you mewl out for him. 

“Satoru,” your chest is heaving like you can’t find any air, “T-there, please, there,” and fuck the way you’re begging him is so sweet that he can’t find it in himself to tease you. 

His fingers seperate your wet lips, groaning when he sees just how much you’re dripping, and licks a tentative stripe upwards, your surprised gasp at how good it felt going straight to his cock.

Gojo carefully slides a finger through your tight walls, feeling the way you tighten around that, and lets his lips travel to your clit, pressing small kisses to it before he begins to suck. You clench around him, and your toes curl at the way he begins to pump it in and out, your essence soaking his skin. 

“So wet sweetheart,” he groans swapping his finger for his thumb at your clit, his tongue diving into your walls as he nearly cums from your saccharine taste alone, “S-shit, fuck, you taste like fucking heaven.” 

Your thighs tighten arund his head, but he craves the feeling, his tongue eating you out at such a fast pace that you begin to wonder if you need this more or him. 

“O-oh gods,” your grips his head tightly, can’t find the sympathy in yourself to feel bad, “‘Toru, oh, oh my, don’t stop! 

That coil in your stomach grows more taunt with each second. 

He alternates, adding in another thick finger, feeling the way you try to stretch for him. He glides in and out of you with ease, but he wonders what you’d look like on his thick cock, how you’d preen as he split you open with his girth. 

“Sweet,” he moans against you, his voice vibrating against your pulsing walls, “You’re so fuckin’ sweet.” 

You nod at something, whatever he just said, not fulling understanding anything around you as he continue to stimulate your clit, sucking on it, his teeth gliding across it with a little bite, and you moan out even louder. 

“I…” you can’t think, can’t breathe, “F-fcuk, ‘Toru, something, something’s happening,” you don’t know what this feeling is, this electric, all-consuming feeling that’s zapping through your body, making it numb yet aware of everything at the same time. 

“I know, I know,” Gojo praised you, one of his hands holding your stomach down, the added pressure making you whine, “You’re doing so good for me, you’re there, come on come for me,” his hand travels up your body, finding yours as he weaves your fingers together. 

“Shit, shit,” you mewl, “I’m coming, fuck, c-coming!” You cry out, your back arching off of the ground as your legs grow slack around his shoulders, your walls pulsing around him as that string tightens for the final time and then finally breaks. 

You can see white as your eyes rolls back into your head, squeezing his hand as tightly as you can, your yes dotting with tears. Your climax was all consuming, making you gush around his fingers and tongue, seeming to be never-ending, your body shaking in his hold. 

Gojo presses one final kiss to your cunt, licking off your release from his fingers, groaning at the taste, and lets you catch your breath. 

When you’re finally able to crack your eyes open, you peek them over to Gojo, seeing the way he tilts his head back, your cum still glistening on his chin and cheek, and whine out in embarrassment. 

“What?” He asks, eyes teasing when you go to hide your face in your hands. 

“I can’t,” your words are muffled, “I can’t believe I just…” 

Gojo kisses your forehead, wiping some of the tears from your eyes away as he kisses your brow bone. 

“How do you feel?” He asks, his eyes scanning over your body, glistening with sweat, and you take in a gulp of air. 

“Good,” you say finally with a soft smile, “Really good.” 

You look from his little grin, one that you peck at, your thumb rubbing up and down his jaw, and then look down, to the obvious bulge that’s hiding behind his training trousers. 

You’ve never seen a cock before but fuck he’s massive.

“What…” you trail off, sitting up slightly, and he helps balance you, “What about you?” you paw at his stomach, right before it leads down, and he lets out a shuddered whine. 

“As much as I-” he bites his tongue, feeling like he’s going to cum if you continue to look at him like that, “As much as I want to…not here,” he looks around at the field, shaking his head as a definite no, “Not here.” 

You go to protest, but he stops you, biting your fingers gently as you yelp, shoving his head away with little force as he chuckles. 

You let him wrap your dress around you again, tying some of the knots so that it doesn’t open up when you’re standing, and let the silence wash over the two of you calm your beating down heart down.

He plays with the ring around your finger, and you watch as the ring around his neck moves with his little breaths. 

“I want to sleep in your bed,” you say, and his blue eyes find yours. 

“You’re crazy if you don’t think I’m letting you sleep anywhere else,” he says in a shocked sort of way and you laugh, looking over to the side for a brief moment, and then look back at him. 

“Do you really love me?” 

Your words as whispered, but it feels like the wind picked them up and scattered them all around the field, around the river, the ancient stones, and right into Gojo’s heart. 

“I really love you,” he whispers back, kissing your eyelids, in between your brows, your forehead, the back of your hand, and murmurs the words, “my wife,” to nobody and to everybody at the same time. 

You smile, pulling him down by that necklace of his so that you can plant a soft kiss against his lips.