#btw I made some words bold here

[lucrezianoin]

How to bookbind your fanfic!

Part 1: From AO3 to printing

The necessary first step is turning your AO3 fanfic into booklets. Your whole book will be a bunch of booklets piled on top of each others and stitched together.

Booklet examples:

Btw, this is the official Word tutorial on how to make a booklet.

You can see there are different options. I usually do 8 pages, which is what you will see in the video. This means that a booklet of 8 pages is two sheets of paper, printed front and back, folded and one put inside the other. To have your word pages in the correct order you will need to format your word document.

Everything is in the video but here is the text for easy reading (btw the fanfic I used is Exit by schwutthing, an amazing Valjean/Javert fic)

Do not download the fanfic on AO3. Click on "Entire work" and copy paste it on word.

Format your word document. Click on File-> Margins. Select "Multiple pages: Book fold" and "Sheets per booklet: 8". Put "Gutter" to 1cm.

Double click on the empty area just above your text, on a random page of the document. This will make the "Do not download the fanfic on AO3. Click on "Entire work" and copy paste it on word.

Format your word document. Click on File-> Margins. Select "Multiple pages: Book fold" and "Sheets per booklet: 8". Put "Gutter" to 1cm.

Double click on the empty area just above your text, on a random page of the document. This will make the "Header and Footer" option appear. You can click on "Footer" and select the format for the pages' number. Always add the pages number, it will make your life easier.

Now you can justify your book. I usually justify (select all text with CTRL+A and click on Justify), but keep in mind that some documents might not enjoy passing through "justify" so double check your final document. For example, if there are lines of poetry and the author wrote into the next line without starting a new paragraph the justify option will make it weird.

Make your book pretty! I added some illustrations and blank pages. I also made the title of the fanfic bigger.

Fix the chapters' titles and notes. I clicked on Home-> Find and searched for "Chapter", so I could select on each chapter title and make it bold, and also delete the "Chapter text" added just after. You can do the same with "notes" in case you want to delete notes.

Now it is time to print! I prefer to save in pdf before, so I will do that.

IF YOU HAVE A PRINTER THAT DOES NOT PRINT BOTH SIDES

Click on print

Select "Microsoft print to pdf"

Select "Manually print on both sides"

This will create two different files pdf, one for the front pages, and one for the back pages.

Click on the file for the front pages and print them all. Do not panic if you see the pages number all over it.

Now take your printed (only on one side) block of pages and load it into your printer again, making sure that you will now print on the blank back. Open your back pages pdf file and print.

(you can do a trial with a few pages to see if everything is lining up correctly).

IF YOU HAVE A PRINTER THAT PRINT BOTH SIDES

"Click on print

Select "Microsoft print to pdf"

Select "Print on one side"

This will create a single pdf that you can print on your both-sides printer. You will see that the page are not in the order you had on the word document, but the whole file will start with page 8 (see video).

Now print!

What you want is this:

You can see that on the front you have page 8 first, page 1 after, because when folded it will end up with page 1 at the start of your booklet! And on the back of this first sheet you have 7 and 2, that will end up in the correct position.

Now you will have a lot of pages... time to fold and create your booklet! Every two sheets... you will fold as you see above.

Next post will be specifically about folding the booklet, making the holes and sewing them together.

[dannyriccsystem]

oscar would be such a girl dad, playing princess with his daughter and everything. taking her to the paddock and showing his little princess and his pretty wife around, 😔.

he would be so soft, i can't, i might die. 😭😭😭😭

btw how are you feeling? 🤞

— 🌱

UNICORNS AND CUPCAKES!

FORMULA ONE DRIVER X READER

SUMMARY: Oscar playing dress up with his daughter and wife, and then showing up to media day like that.

WORD COUNT: 800

WARNINGS: Dad!Osc, Mom!Reader, that’s it

FEATURING: Oscar Piastri x Reader

NOTE: HII! I’m doing good! Feeling a lot better now!

“OH DEAR, WHAT HAVE I WALKED IN ON?” YOU GIGGLE, politely covering your mouth as you admire the sight before you. Oscar is sitting at a table within the McLaren hospitality, your daughter sitting on a chair beside him. The young girl is messing around with the makeup you bought her for christmas. It had cars on it, and was designed for children.

The real kicker, though, was your husband, who was sitting there like an obedient dog while she painted his face in a rather bold look. Hot pink blush, bright red lips, and dark blue eyeshadow. He looked like he had a long night, to put it nicely. You didn’t mean to mock her skills, but there was definitely some room for improvement.

Despite your teasing, Oscar just smiled as a greeting. He was rather still as he allowed her to continue with her artistic ministrations, his heart melting at her joyous giggles. “I’m doing Daddy’s makeup so he looks good for the cameras!” She announced proudly, smearing purple eyeshadow on the inner corners of his eyes. “Doesn’t he look pretty?”

“He looks beautiful,” You said as you gently rubbed circles into her back, pressing a kiss to her scalp. “Wow, I’m falling in love all over again.” You tone was drenched in sarcasm, but there was some truth to your words. Seeing him allow your daughter to play, even if it meant sacrificing his own self image, was heart warming. You ruffled the younger girl’s hair before leaning in for a kiss from your husband.

“Ew!” She shrieked when you pulled back, your own lips now smeared in his bright red makeup. He laughed, which made your daughter pout. “Hold still!”

“Alright, I’m sorry,” He said in a jokingly exasperated tone. Your daughter rolled her eyes, sighing dramatically.

“He’s not a very good model,” She grumbled, making you laugh once again. “Mommy will you get my princess wardrobe out?”

“Oh, of course,” You replied eagerly as you rushed off to Oscar’s driver’s room, locating the small wooden chest. You dragged it out, opening it to where both your husband and daughter could see. The mounds of glittery, sparkly fabrics flowed free from the chest, spilling out onto the ground. You bit your lip to stifle a giggle at his face.

“I… Didn’t know your collection was so big, sweetheart,” He said, forcing a smile. Oh if only he knew what was coming for him.

“Wow, Oscar! That is quite the outfit,” A reporter remarks with a huge grin on her face, offering the microphone for his response. He sighed, and the sound faded into a chuckle.

“My daughter helped me prepare for media day.” His voice was monotone, but it was clear he just found the whole thing entertaining. If he didn’t want to do this, he could have said no, but he loved entertaining his little princess. Which is why he stood here now, a dress that was just a little too small for him slapped on top of his typical shorts and t-shirt. Atop his hair, which was pulled into two pigtails that were forming a headache, sat a pretty, sparkly tiara. “I gotta make this quick, though. I have a tea party to attend soon.”

“Did your wife put her up to this?” The reporter clearly found this whole situation very entertaining.

“No. You know, she’s pretty creative. Thought of all of this,” He gestured to himself head to toe, “all by herself.”

Oscar sighed playfully. “Oh, there are the suspects in question!”

He fully whipped around to look for you, immediately lighting up at the sight of you holding your daughter’s hand, pulling her through crowds of people as she giggled and chatted beside you. He had to pause to admire you, taking in your pretty glow with a fond expression.

He pulled you in for a hug and kiss when you got close, though you followed it by wiping your lips with a grossed out look. “There are my girls,” He mumbled before crouching down to kiss his daughter’s forehead.

“You’re gonna ruin your dress, Daddy!”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” He stood back up, ruffling her hair. She huffed dramatically and fixed it, straightening out her matching tiara.

“Two princess in the paddock today,” The interviewer said as the camera panned down to your daughter, who grinned at the attention.

But Oscar’s eyes were on you. He couldn’t stop watching as you laughed with your child— His child, too. Under his breath he replied, “three,” with that lovesick grin of his.

Tired of the attention, he spoke again to divert the various eyes on him. “Sweetheart, why don’t we go see if uncle Lala wants a makeover too?”

“Yeah!”

With that being said, all three of you were off to torment Lando.

[nanamiskentos]

CREAM SODA — gojo satoru minors dni

prologue. → you've always known that gojo satoru is a real piece of work. arrogant, haughty. definitely has a praise kink for when people always call him 'the strongest.' but you're not even friends anymore, so this isn't any of your business...right?

what you didn't know is just how nasty he is, caging you in front of a mirror to lick away blood that he spilled from the veins of another man, one who dared to touch you.

pairing. gojo satoru x afab!reader

warnings+. secondary love interest in the form of a random oc, jjk lore being mildly twisted, history around the world, in-jujutsu universe (not an au), gojo going feral and batshit bonkers, rough séx, créampíe, INSANE glass-shattering jealousy, hate séx but only a bit, br��éding, oràl (f. receiving). enemies to lovers, former friends, PLOT AND WORLD BUILDING BTW this isn't pẃp, éxhibitionísm, mirror séx, overstímulàtion, bratty reader but with a reason to be a hater, working together on a mission, mentions of alcohol and the crime underworld, DEFINITELY a bit dark because reader goes through emotional whiplash, descriptions of a fight and heavy injury, biting because i always somehow write gojo as a vampire type of freak?? the PRIME example of the miscommunication tropes and a case where neither person is in the right...nuance is your friend here, fake bodyguard!gojo, reader wears a dress + makeup for a formal event, angst, hurt, lashing out, some comfort and fluff

excerpt: part of you knows that you just aren't seeing those pearly gates of heaven.

you know there's going to be a bouncer at the doors, with your face printed on a photo titled: dni! fraud! liar! the world's most incompetent jujutsu sorcerer! would bounce into a criminal's bed at first chance!

word count. 22k!!!!!!! AURKAY!! song inspiration. cream soda — exo, is there someone else — the weeknd

a/n. spent way too long trying to learn ps for the header 😭 wrote this only because of the new grey suit gojo art <3 there's a secondary love interest in this for the ✨ plot ✨ but he's just a character i made up for this story. i would have used one of the other jjk men but it would made it into an au that i didn't feel like expanding on 😭

mp3.. feel that tinglin', that silky smooth cream, each swirl deepens the flavor, babe. baby, go dumb dumb!

"f-fuck, if i had known it felt like this, would've stuck my fingers in h-her a long time ago," gojo unfurls his fingers that only just separated from your fluttering pussy, and you can only watch.

equally mesmerised as his slender fingers are coated in strands of your slick, clinging to the curves of his short nails and coating them in a mirror sheen.

"have some c-class, gojo! you've lost your fuckin' mind -"

smack!

the dewy pads of his fingers have come down in a harsh arc, slapping right at your throbbing clit, and the jolt sends such an incredible crack of lightning down your spine that you're bucking your hips back up into his hand, back for more.

"some class? hah, 'm not able to do that now, baby," and you can feel gojo shudder under your touch, as you paw at the linen of his black dress shirt, raking your nails over his pectorals, "not when it f-feels like your pussy is about to, fuck, vacuum my fingers off."

"i swear to god, gojo. never say that corny shit a-again."

but it's hard to convey any sense of righteous fury like this. not when he's back to pushing the tapered ends of his long fingers in and out of your tight heat. each brush from the pads of his fingertips leaves you squealing, tugging at the snowy strands on the back of his head.

but gojo's teeth are sharp as they sink into the damp skin of your neck with an almost reverent press, easily snapping through the delicate flesh.

and you're squealing, shocked at how fucking bold gojo satoru has become, whining at how a sharp hiss pulses through you, and you can feel the warmth of blood beginning to bloom and pool over your collarbone.

"shit, 'm sorry, baby. so sorry. but i'm gonna need to see you l-like this," and suddenly gojo snaps away the pussydrunk babble falling from his candied mouth, and he's pressing a searing kiss to your jaw, and the air becomes hazy with the scent of an insanely expensive cologne, cedar and something...sweet, like cardamom.

still, there's hardly time to dissect that.

not when his thick arm is around your waist, handling you until you're smack bang between his legs, right between dark slacks. and gojo has shifted, so your back is flat against the hard planes of his chest, and your knuckles can only grip at the vanity sink. so your eyes can only see your naked torso twisting in the mirror.

"keep your eyes h-here, sweets. on us."

wait. you need to pause this tape, and do a little rewind.

how did you end up here, getting finger-fucked in a luxury five star suite? by the one man on earth that you swore that you could never stand?

(earlier that day)

the chandeliers had been shimmering overhead like stars, each fine crystal caught the golden light and scattered it across the grand lobby, and it was making your eyes flare and twitch.

this entire hotel felt frozen in time, some opulent relic of the roaring twenties, translated straight into tokyo's beating heart.

it was all so...pristine, and gaudy. and even the air carried that faint scent of hefty chanel no.5 and furniture polish.

but hey, this cheque wasn't coming out of your pocket, so who were you to complain?

that's how you rationalised it to yourself, right after a smartly-dressed waiter had floated past with a tray of shimmering champagne, one that you had easily helped yourself to.

ah, fuck it.

let the bill rack up on yaga's card. the least he could do after volunteering you to the higher ups for this mission.

a thick folder rested in your lap, clipped papers inside threatening to spill over from the sheer volume of information, that made your head spin.

of course, it was all courtesy of the jujutsu administration's obsession with drowning sorcerers in needless bureaucracy. and so you leafed through it idly, your thumb skimming over the crisp edges.

names, places, dates, all laid out in haphazard detail.

what a mess, it was a lot, but not enough to fill in the gaps that gnawed at you. the higher ups never gave you everything, fuck, they hated making it easy. still, your eyes caught onto key phrases.

urgent recall of cursed object. yes, that's why you were here. and not enjoying your saturday afternoon at home.

declaration of most expenses covered, in the instances of losing a limb. fair enough, insurance was honestly hell these days.

gain access to the auction being held by the voiceless. find their leader, naoki sato.

you knew of the voiceless, most higher grade jujutsu sorcerers did. a crime syndicate so shrouded in mystery. operating overseas for decades without so much as a cloudy whisper to the general public.

you made an unimpressed face as you kept reading, crinkling sheets under your fingers. smuggling, extortion, and a great deal of unexplained murders that would leave the cast of criminal minds scratching their heads.

how tasteless. still, you weren't the law, each to their own.

however, something made this case different. it made it your apparent problem.

for the voiceless were not your usual ragtag team of ruffian criminals, intent on scamming the vulnerable and sad.

their ranks comprised of wayward jujutsu sorcerers, with a hearty appetite for special artefacts, including cursed objects.

and now here they were, back on tokyo's soil, their hands covered with more than just the regular mundane crimes that could land a man behind bars for life.

you shifted in the plush, sinking seat. flipped to a page that had been practically painted in the most unforgiving shade of neon yellow highlighter.

ah, so this was the cursed object. raijin's amulet.

there was a grainy, slightly off-centre photograph clipped to the top of the document. the image was not much to look out, all washed colours and shadows that clearly didn't speak highly of the skills of whoever was behind the camera.

a circular pendant, a darkened forged creation of bronze and jade, covered in the soot of the ages gone by. spiralled with intricate carvings that reminded you of swirling storm clouds on a summer's evening.

and at it's centre sat a jagged shard of some precious golden stone, rough-hewn at the edges.

you were certain that this was the cause behind the distorted photography, for a modern camera was simply just not meant to capture such high levels of cursed energy.

there was even a faint shape of a dragon coiled around the pendant's edges, with its claws gripping the frame as if guarding it...or imprisoning it.

you weren't sure which. you're not sure you wanted to know which.

the accompanying notes were sparse, filled with frustrated gaps that left you squinting.

believed to be an ancient relic of the heian era. captured from the treasure hoard of the early medieval sorcerer, ryōmen sukuna, after his death.

huh, you hadn't heard that name since your school-days, back when you had poured over fraying history tomes, trying to pen the perfect essay to beat out suguru's flawless grades.

said to be imbued with the power of the lightning deity, raijin. capable of summoning and manipulating thunder, and disrupting various veils and curtains. last known location: the british museum, 1982. current location: unconfirmed.

clearly not an artefact meant to sit behind public museum glass.

dangerous in the wrong hands, and priceless in the hands of all. this must have been at least leagues above your current pay grade.

your thumb hovered over the corner of the page, bruising the white paper underneath as you scanned over the rest of the text, hoping and looking for a section that would be titled: and here's how to track raijin's amulet down and find it, with no bloodshed, and just in time for dinner!

no such luck.

"figures," you muttered under your breath, shoving the folder shut with a disgusted sigh.

this entire mission reeked of playing politics. for years, the voiceless had operated under the radar of other nations, disguising the tell-tale jujutsu as unexplained natural disasters and accidents.

there had been no intervention. they had been untouchable because no-one had the foreign jurisdiction, nor the guts to intervene.

but now, with the voiceless back on home soil, it seemed the higher ups wanted to make a statement. something like 'hey, we're actually useful at our jobs of protecting the jujutsu world!' and who better to clean up their mess than you and...

gojo satoru.

speak of the devil. you glanced up towards the grand entrance of the hotel lobby, as an unfortunate doorman stood by revolving, glass doors.

your...partner strode in, with dark sunglasses perched on his nose, and you scrunched your nose, taking in his appearance.

despite gojo's striking features that could render anyone speechless, he always looked like an odd bird of prey to you.

hawkish with creepy eyes, like a big snowy owl that had been hit by a curse, transforming him and forcing him to assimilate into the world of humans.

"i wasn't sure if you would come," you called, hoping that you masked the bitterness well that he had arrived, and significantly decreased the quality of your day.

"you wouldn't say that in bed," was gojo's snarky, automated reply, before he gave you a mildly embarrassed look, as if his immature mouth moved faster than his common sense did.

"still, sorry to keep you waiting," and gojo was crushing the heel of his boot into the cream marble of the floor, tapping it, all ridiculously long legs in the same uniform dress pants that you also donned, "traffic was hell."

"you don't even have a license," you grouched with a glare that you hoped was sharp enough to cleave time and space, but you stood up all the same, "and i wasn't waiting, i was working."

click! click!

gojo snapped his fingers, reaching for the folder stacked in your arms, "yes, of course you were, sweets," and he clicked his tongue, "now, why don't you hand that to me, and go check us in? i can look over what i need to do, let's get this done before night falls."

the audacity. the absolute nerve. how so typically gojo. swooping in at the last minute for kill shot, as usual, while others poured through all the paperwork, and did all the mental heavy lifting.

"you mean what we need to do, gojo," you snapped, your scowl deepening, "you're the late one. you go check us in."

gojo arched a pale brow, and the corner of his mouth twitched as though he wished he could just unwalk through those doors now, caught between amusement and exasperation. "you used to be so nice. what happened?"

"tsk! i think you happened, gojo. didn't ask to be stuck here with you."

"ah, so you do think about me, at least. but now you're jus' so difficult all the time."

"fuck off, i'm not difficult!" you shot back, before shrinking at the foul look that an elderly couple had directed your way, muttering something about how youth just didn't know how to act indoors, "i'm just saying it's not fair -"

"fine, whatever. don't care, sweets," gojo interrupted, already rolling big, blue eyes and turning away, "i'll go do it. you just stay nice and comfortable here."

and just like that, after comfortably raising your blood pressure (and heart rate), gojo satoru strode off towards the vast front desk, hands shoved lazily into his pockets, as though the two of you weren't on the clock to hunt down and find a dangerous criminal, his syndicate and a cursed object.

you trailed behind him, resisting the violent urge to grab his stupid sunglasses and fling them across the lobby. or stomp on them.

or just sit on them.

meanwhile, your eyes landed on the last and final page of the file, where a bright pink sticky note stood out sharply against the dull black and white of the case file.

final task: retrieve artefact. execute naoki sato on site. alternatively, bring in for execution.

the words were scrawled in thick, impatient strokes of a black marker. the kind that spoke more of efficiency, than humanity.

typical. there was just nothing that higher ups of the jujutsu world loved more than lopping the head off anyone that they deemed inconvenient. quick, clean and final.

still, this decision wasn't your business, not really.

you looked up to see gojo casually leaning against the counter, and his entire demeanour radiated smooth confidence as he spoke to the receptionist.

the sweet-looking woman had fumbled her worlds almost immediately, and she had dropped her pen twice. and he had caught it with an easy smile and wink that would have made you roll your eyes clean out of your skull.

you wanted to gag.

in less than a minute, gojo had the black keycard in his hand, spinning it between his fingers like some trophy as he sauntered towards the elevators.

you sighed as he stopped in front of you, extending the card with a flourish, like a knight presenting a courtier with a wreath of fresh-cut flowers.

"we're here for a mission, gojo. not to get it wet."

the tips of his ears flushed a bright, vibrant red. but his grin didn't falter as he huffed, and snatched the keycard back. leaving your arm floundering in the air before you dropped it.

"how crude. that's not even what i asked her. but still, you're welcome, sweets," he had said, stepping into the elevator and holding the door open for you with an exaggerated stretch of his arm.

"i didn't say thank you."

gojo smiled, tilting his head in that distracting, no. what? in that irritating manner of his, "no need. i could feel the gratitude radiating off you," and he's crossing his arms against his broad chest in a way that made the tailored uniform seem unfairly snug, "warms my heart."

"what if you don't have a heart?

for a fleeting moment, something unreadable flashed in gojo's eyes, irritation easily — but something unrecognisable, but he must have smoothed it away with practised ease. for that same cocky grin returned like clockwork, infuriatingly charming and just as insincere.

"what if it only beats for you?" he shot back, wiggling his fingers dramatically, and the motion was so over-the-top that it leaned closer to sleazy than heartstopping.

"now i'm worried, you need to get shoko to check that out. sounds like a serious health issue."

"your tender concern for my well-being is what keeps my blood pumping," and you know that gojo has little regard for the personal space for others, the way that the distance between you is closing once more, in a way that makes your own pulse flicker.

"please," and you take a deliberate step back to reclaim your own space, "if i wanted you gone, i wouldn't waste my time hoping for a heart attack. i'd do it myself."

gojo shrugs, tilting his head like you had just told him a sweet joke, "you're cute when you're homicidal, y'know that?"

"and you're insufferable all the time. we all have our talents."

gojo's barked out a laugh, and the sound is annoyingly genuine. it has you grinding your teeth together, making your jaw tight.

"hey, gojo," you swivel back to the towering bean-pole behind you, leaning against a steel bar.

"mhm, what?"

"i'll give you a hundred thousand yen if you keep your mouth shut during the entire elevator ride," you mutter, staring at the ground floor map, and up to where your suite was meant to be, hands fiddling over the buttons.

"deal."

you glance back, "that easy? clan money running low, gojo?"

gojo sighs, shaking his (ridiculous) snow-cone hair, "you have no idea. spent it all on a sweet talkin' girl who kicked me to the curb. even took the dog with her. who takes the fucking dog?"

despite yourself and your iron-clad resolution to not validate gojo satoru in anything, you snort, the first genuine laugh he's pulled out of you.

you choose not to notice how his eyes suddenly seem a shade brighter, as you snicker, "you're so ridiculous."

he doesn't reply as you press an index finger into the cool metal of the elevator button, and you turn around to see him sadly miming out his broke plight, with a sack of imaginary things over his shoulder, jingling the few coins he has.

tsk. you bite your lip to stop the corners of your lips lifting up to match gojo's own, wrinkling your nose in faux distaste as you spin back around, with gritted teeth. away from the mild bane of your existence.

true to his word, and shockingly so, gojo stayed silent through the elevator ride. mostly.

you caught his restless sighs, the shuffle of his ridiculously polished boots, and the occasional sharp intake of breath like he was simply dying to say something, but kept biting it back.

good. for once, it was nice to make gojo satoru stew.

the elevator dinged, and you had already stepped out, planning to ditch him in the suite, but clearly, gojo had other ideas.

"alright, sweets," he said, hand extended, "i won the bet. hundred thousand yen, i can take a cheque too."

you stopped short, glaring at his outstretched (sculpted) hand.

"right now? just as we're gonna plan how to catch a criminal? can't we do a pay later type of thing?"

gojo's responding grin was wolfish, and his voice dropped enough to make you bristle, "sure. pay later, with a kiss."

your groan must have echoed down the hall, and without thinking, you shoved past him. your shoulder colliding with his chest in a way that was deeply satisfying.

"my kisses," you snapped, refusing to look back at him, "are worth way more than a hundred thousand yen."

gojo didn't reply immediately, no. and for a second, you thought had finally managed to shut him up enough for a moment's peace to gather the thoughts that the white-haired man always managed to unravel.

but when you dared to glance back over your shoulder, his sharp gaze was fixed on you, and his lips were pressed together oddly — the faintest dusting of cherry pink peeking out underneath his sunglasses, and falling over his cheeks.

nary a peep from gojo then, save for him rushing past you to slot the keycard into the door. but holy fuck, the sheer luxury of this suite almost made you forget that gojo satoru even existed.

sleek dark woods, glowing orange accents, and a massive window that offered a panoramic view of tokyo's skyline. and then, there was the bed.

ridiculous in its decadence. a king-sized masterpiece, draped in plush linens that looked softer than the clouds dotting the afternoon sky. framed by polished ebony bedposts that gleamed in the warm light of the suite. the mattress was practically calling out to you, to sink your back into it.

wait, where was the other bed?

"nope! absolutely not," you blurted, spinning on your heel to face gojo who had sauntered in after you, pausing mid-step and clearly, equally caught off-guard with a stunned expression on his face — before morphing into something maddeningly smug.

"what?" gojo said, leaning casually against the doorframe, "it's a bed. you've seen one before, right?"

you tried to speak in a way that wouldn't quite make it show that you felt like your tongue was lead, jabbing a finger at the bed as though it had personally offended you, "there's only one!"

gojo's lips quirked upwards, his blue eyes gleaming with that irritating mix of amusement and mischief, most likely derived from your displeasure, "now look at that, we can count to ten. baby steps."

"don't start with me," you snapped, "i'm not crashing out there. i'd rather sleep in the hallway."

gojo tilted his head, the white tufts of his hair falling around his face, as though he were considering the suggestion seriously, "not sure the hotel staff would appreciate you loitering in their five-star corridors. won't stop you though, sweets."

"you can sleep on the couch," you try to offer helpfully, relishing in how it's his turn to scowl at you.

gojo's glancing towards the sleek leather sofa in the corner, most likely worth more than your monthly rent, "tempting," he drawls, "but i don't think that thing was designed for someone with legs this long," and he's slapping his hands on his thighs, and you do your very best to not track your stare down.

"then curl up like the overgrown house cat you are -"

"fuck you mean by that?"

"or sleep on the floor!"

"i'm liking these options less and less."

but then gojo straightens, and you're starting to see a small tick reach to the corner of his bright eyes, the faintest hint of irritation seeping through his drawl, "you know, for someone so desperate to avoid me, you spend a lot of time wondering where i'm gonna sleep."

you hate the traitorous flush heating up your face, "i'm thinking about it because you're my problem."

"well i hope i'm at least your favourite problem," gojo murmurs, brushing past you to toss his dark bag onto the bed.

"so, what's it gonna be?" gojo's voice was a lazy purr, patting the mattress beside him with a grin that could have launched a thousand arguments, "join me, or keep fighting a losing battle? because -" he faked a yawn, "i think i'm starting to get a bit sleepy."

"sleepy? you're a grown man, and it's barely three in the afternoon."

gojo arches a pale brow, and you have to force yourself to stop staring at the pink curve of his lips, "and? scared you won't be able to resist me in the middle of the night?"

"you should be scared you'll wake up with a pillow smothering your face."

gojo sighs, melodramatic and loud, rolling over onto his back, "i'd rather be smothered by -"

"gojo!"

his laugh is low and rich, and it vibrates in the air in a way that make your teeth itch, and your eyes roll, desparate to change the subject and actually get back on track.

you shove the hefty file in his direction, letting him flounder to grab a hold of it, "last page. naoki sato."

gojo's entire demeanor shifts, and falls under the mention of the name, eyes a touch darker, and suddenly serious in a way that almost makes you regret being on the clock. but he's pushed himself up from the bed, his legs dangling off the edge.

"what about him?"

you frowned, still turning over the situation in your mind, "well, he's supposedly working out of this district right, i mean, even this hotel? but why? i always thought crime bosses had creepy lairs in dark alleyways or something. and not," you gesture to the five-star architecture around you, "this."

gojo's broad shoulders shrug in that lazy way of his, like everything was beneath him, but there was something else flickering behind his perched sunglasses, "i've never even met him. just heard of him," but gojo seems to be chewing each word, as if choosing them carefully, "but what i've heard? not your typical criminal? he flies high, lives the wild life out in the open, rich and shameless."

you privately held back any biting comment that came to you as easy as breathing, about gojo also being the epitome of rich...and shameless. time and place, yeah?

gojo, thank the lucky stars, had not noticed you fighting demons to keep a straight face, "but then every so often sato vanishes off the radar, and then, bam!" your partner splayed his fingers, "he strikes again. always showing in a different place. the united states, france, england, egypt..."

you raise an eyebrow, tapping at your phone, "egypt?"

"egyptian artefacts are ridiculously powerful, sweets. i mean, on a whole other level. they aren't linked with y'know...jujutsu," he gestures vaguely between the two of you, "but whatever they've got is ancient and ridiculously potent. last the higher ups heard, naoki sato managed to get his hands on an old obelisk."

you shake your head at the prospect, humouring gojo, "whatever for?"

"whatever twisted things he does in his free time, fuck if i know. but of course, he couldn't control it. instead, it summoned the spirit of a massive serpent, killed a bunch of innocent civilians."

you have the faintest collection of the mythos surrounding an ancient serpent, and the thought makes you shudder, "wouldn't the local authorities have arrested him for that?"

gojo pushes his sunglasses up his head, so you're now looking back at unblinking blue eyes ringed by white lashes, "how do you arrest a guy who's practically a ghost? they couldn't even find him after all that shit. besides, his technique is something else. enhance. practically has control over every cell in your body."

you nod slowly, hoping that you're piercing it all together correctly, "so this auction is because he's got more of these artefacts? like raijin's amulet?"

gojo nods sharply, and you're struck by the intensity of big blue eyes with whorls of storm clouds lingering between his gaze, "i guess even villainous criminals want to make profit. but we can get a front row seat to whatever he's planning next."

"and stop him before that."

"right. that's what i said."

your frown deepens, "how the fuck does an entire auction stay hidden from the public?"

after all, you had scoured the floorplan of this hotel from base to rooftop, and not a single room or corner would accomodate naoki sato, and the voiceless that follow him.

gojo shrugs with infuriating nonchalance, his fingers tapping idly against the edge of the bed, "there's jujutsu that can create entire illusions. beneath this very hotel lies an entrance to a hidden ballroom, but it's been in and out of use for decades. we jus' need to slip in, find sato, and maybe shake him a few times until he spills the amulet's location."

you cross your arms, and the unfortunate truth lingers on your tongue, "if it were that easy, the higher ups wouldn't have sent you with me as backup."

"was that a compliment for me? careful, you might actually start liking me now."

and at your affronted expression, laugher is spilling out gojo satoru, sharp and cocky and awfully infectious.

you hated the sound, not because it wasn't nice, but because it was. too rich, too easy. the kind of laugh, from the strongest sorcerer to walk the earth, that made you wonder if ever took a damn thing seriously. with the unfortunate side effect of questioning why it was so annoyingly attractive at the same time.

nobody should get to look that good while being such an unbearable ass. it was unfortunate, you thought grimly, how much you liked seeing him laugh though.

"i don't think i'd ever like you at all, gojo."

but alas, the world has a cruel way of making you wish that the earth swallowed you whole. and your heart and mind certainly aren't on speaking terms with each other to coordinate properly. for the barb flies out of your mouth like an uncontrolled reflex, a rogue arrow hitting its mark.

and you're left grimacing as gojo's smile stills. not vanishing completely, but frozen while something cooler and sharper slips into his gaze. the awkward silence that follows is loud enough to make you wince and pray that a lightning bolt strikes you down right now.

gojo gives a quiet cough, and you're wondering just how much of his nonchalant facade he has left intact. fuck, you were a bit of an ass yourself.

"ah, gojo. i didn't mean -" you started, stumbling over the words, desperate to backpedal, if only for the sake of the mission. right?

"don't strain yourself pretending," gojo cuts you off, and you're mildly stung by the smooth edge of venom coating his voice, despite his relaxed smile, "let's just get this job done, yeah? it's just us two here because no-one else could put up with you. i was the only one left who actually wanted to try."

well. ouch, that was a low blow. motherfucker.

your jaw tighten, and for a moment, all you can do is stare into vibrant blue eyes. surely, that wasn't true...right? and how awful that the sharp look in his eyes softened into a smug satisfaction as he registered how his own barb had found his mark.

now, gojo satoru is leaning back with an air of victory, crossing his arms as if to bask in it. talk about drawing more blood from a wound than necessary.

"you're awful, gojo," you bit out, praying that whatever tremor lives in your throat is not enough to appear in your voice.

"yes, i know. you say that all the time."

it was almost tragic, you thought bitterly, how in those fleeting few minutes, you had found gojo satoru bearable. likeable even. insightful, in his own smug way.

but now, the two of you were back to square one, staring each other down with walls firmly back in place.

sure, your quip had been mildly unnecessary, but it wasn't like he hadn't heard your blithe and bland comments by now?

but still, gojo's words gnawed at you. the idea that no one else wanted to put up with you, except him, of all people, burrowed deeper than it had any right to.

maybe it was petty, but you weren't about to let gojo satoru have the last word.

"remember that the higher ups want naoki sato executed," you said, breaking the terse silence.

gojo didn't even glance up from the file he'd been pretending to skim, his long fingers casually flipping a page. and that nonchalance made your stomach churn with irritation.

when he finally looked up, his expression was a mix of curiosity, and disdain, as if you had become a particularly stubborn puzzle that he'd decided was not worth solving, "yes, i know that too. so what?"

"you and i both know you've had trouble executing criminals in the past."

a calculated jab, sharper than they needed to be. and you saw the impact hit almost immediately. gojo's jaw tightened, and the glint in his frosty blue eyes disappeared, replaced by something darker, furious even.

suguru geto was still well and alive, often appearing on television as a friendly priest who would cure one of all their ails such as lower back pain or bad headaches, for the low price of joining the ranks of his organisation (read: cult). but he still remained a sore point for...everyone. you, included.

gojo, especially.

and now the air between you shifted, chilling like a winter draft had snuck into the room. your eyes fell on gojo's knuckles as they tightened around the file, his expression stony.

you shouldn't have felt proud of yourself for getting under his skin, for pulling a genuine reaction from him. but you did. you'd found a crack in his flawless armour, without needing to bypass infinity.

and it was satisfying.

"f-fuck you," gojo said finally, the razor edge in his voice was matched only by the glare he pinned on you.

you crossed your arms, doing your best to feign indifference despite the adrenaline surging through you. ignoring how you felt an awful pit in your stomach sprout, rendering you rather nauseous, and quoting his previous words, "don't strain yourself pretending it's not true."

gojo satoru's glower could have melted steel, and for a moment, you wondered if you'd gone too far. but he stood, slowly, his movements deliberate as he slammed the file shut with a resounding snap.

you watched as he snatched up his smaller bag, and swung the door open with enough force that you were surprised that it didn't fall off its hinges, "just be ready by the time i get back. 'm gonna take a walk."

and you were left, alone, in a room that suddenly felt so much more suffocating.

you weren't sure how long it had been since gojo had stormed out, leaving the room icy in his absence. you hadn't moved from your spot by the door, though you told yourself that you were entirely fine.

arms crossed, lips pressed into a thin, defiant line. but even as you stared at the dark panels of the door, the lie began to unravel.

you told yourself that you just didn't care for gojo satoru. that you didn't like how he was too loud, too reckless, too overwhelming, a force that just didn't fit into the neat confines of your world.

the heat rising to your cheeks must have betrayed you, as did the tight knot in your chest. it had been...not your wisest choice to lash out at him, or to even bring up his name. suguru geto, a wound that would never close for anyone.

but more than that, you hated the memory of his expression just before he left. hurt, and anger. and something far more raw.

he would come back, you knew that much. gojo was much too dutiful to leave a mission and abandon a chance to do some good in this world. it should have been a comfort, but it did little to ease you. instead, that certainty only twisted the guilt tighter in between your ribcage.

finally, you yanked the door open, fuelled by an impulse you didn't care to name. you wanted to catch him outside, mid-pace and brooding. just so you could say...something. anything.

but the hallway was empty, stark and silent, with only the dim flicker of warm light as your witness. you bit your tongue as your stomach churned sourly with disappointment.

and instead, you just slammed the door shut, letting the sound reveberate with just as much force that gojo had slammed the door with, on his way out. you leaned against the wood, closing your eyes as you did your level best to swallow that lump of regret making a home in your throat.

pacing helped for about...three minutes. shuffling through the case files on the table did nothing but remind you of why you were here, why you had both been sent. after all, was this mission not bigger than you, or him? was this not about bringing naoki sato to justice?

it didn't feel that way.

your gaze landed on the garment bag handing from the chair, untouched from when you had pulled it out earlier, back when gojo had been inviting you...to bed.

sort of.

you unzipped the bag with (mildly) trembling hands, letting the fabric spill into your grasp. no doubt that the dress was beautiful, a masterpiece of icy, powder blue and shimmering sequins that caught the light like scattered stars.

well, this had certainly been worth half your paycheck.

your fingers brushed over the delicate embroidery, and for a moment, you felt a mild sting of your own hypocrisy and yearning heart. you accused gojo of being cold, distant and unfeeling, and yet here you were, holding a dress that reminded you of him in every way. the pale blue of the fabric, like the frost in his storm-eyes when they rested on you for too long.

if you ever came face to face with cupid, you would beat him with a baseball bat.

you sighed, dropping the dress onto the bed before gingerly stepping out of your uniform, as cool air stung your skin.

what had you been thinking, treating gojo like that? he didn't deserve your anger, not truly. you knew how much your former classmate carried, how much he gave himself to this cursed and thankless world.

but of course, the little pronged-devil on your shoulder whispered around the shell of your ear. he often drew equal blood from stinging cuts, no-one wanted to put up with you, anyway.

still, there was no use in showing up to a gathering of some of the world's most rich, wealthy and seedy looking like a hollow and shaken ghost. and this mission was just not about gojo, it was about the greater good of the jujutsu world, and that's what you repeated in your head like a mantra, as you swiped plush-red across your cheeks and lips.

a diamond necklace around your throat was the final touch. well, you say diamond, but the truth was more...cheap. still, the strand shone in linked chains of pretty crystals. and that had still been a minor fortune for one who lived on a jujutsu paycheck.

the hours had stretched the afternoon into evening, settling a fragile calm over the suite that made you ache to stretch your limbs out, and take in some fresh air.

but the silence was shattered by a sharp knock at the door, purposeful and deliberate. and it made you freeze, hands still resting on the straps of your glitzy shoes, a frown knitting your brows.

gojo had the keycard, did he not? but who else would be banging your door down?

with a sigh, you stood and lifted the hem of your dress as you crossed the room. opening the door with every intention of scolding him for whatever drama he was dragging in this time.

instead the words just about died a sad and lonely death on your tongue.

gojo satoru.

for a brief second, your thoughts emptied entirely, as though he had cast infinite void right over you, leaving you staring with a heart that hammered like a caged bird.

gone was his usual, drab uniform. instead, he had swapped the dull fabric for a sleek, black dress shirt that clung just right, paired with a crisp, grey jacket that framed his broad shoulders.

you tried to not let your gaze linger on the open gap right under the white tie that hung slightly loosened from his neck, where silk kissed creamy skin.

but gojo’s face was unreadable, distant and cool. you hated how his mere presence always seemed to tilt the world off its axis.

and you blinked, forcing your mouth to close, and you stepped back to let him in. 

"you’re late. again," you snapped, but your voice lacked its usual venom, tempered by the sharp edges of minor guilt that refused to settle in you.

"whatever. ‘m here now, aren’t i?" gojo’s tone was casual, but his eyes lingered a second too long, leaving your skin prickling with self-conscious awareness. 

it seemed that the universe needed to hit you with some karmic intervention, and you decided to take the rare moral high ground, "about earlier," you began, trying to steady yourself, "i shouldn’t have said -"

"forget it, sweets," gojo interrupted with a shrug, though his jaw was tight, "i’m not keen on hearing excuses. i get it."

you bristled, biting back the immense urge to shove him, an urge that becoming disturbingly frequent, "i wasn’t making excuses," sounding out each word slow and deliberate. anger simmering under the surface at his holier-than-thou attitude, "that was an apology."

that made gojo pause, and now he fully turned to you, expression shifting. though it was hard to read, caught between painful acknowledgement and absurd pride that would include him admitting that he was affected by what you said.

for a moment, he said nothing, and the silence stretched unbearably heavy. but then gojo’s ice-gaze dropped to the necklace scattered over your throat, and he tilted his head, "not too bad," a flicker of a scoff curling at his lips.

"tch, they’re not even real," you blurted, then immediately regretted it, what was wrong with you today? you reached up, fingers grazing the cool crystals as if to shield them from his bemused scrutiny, "just thought i needed something to fit in."

gojo slid a pair of tinted sunglasses from his pocket, sliding them up his nose, smooth and practised, "in a room full of the filthy rich and tastelessly overdressed?" his pink mouth twitched, "you’ll fit in perfectly."

gojo was right. this was just…tacky.

the ground floor of the building had been nothing but a sleek, cold lifeless maze of marble, and now he had led you down into what could only be described as a scene for criminals with bad taste. an abandoned parking lot stretched out in front of you, a grimy stretch of concrete that left you expecting a quiet dead end.

until gojo waved his hand, and the illusion clearly met for non-sorcerer eyes shattered.

before you, a set of massive double doors emerged, seemingly from nowhere, and the lifting of the veil had left you disoriented, nauseous. but when the doors swung open, you almost felt like you were stepping into a warped fever dream.

this room inside was the most bizarre mixture of garish opulence that you had ever seen. gold…everything. the walls plastered in a deep red, like someone had dipped the entire place in velvet swathes and then covered it with more gold leaf.

plush, overstuffed settees sat like soft, jewel-toned thrones in every corner, and glass boxes lined the walls, each holding what looked like nothing more than expensive junk, tacky figurines and diamond-encrusted trinkets.

it was the kind of place you’d absolutely expect a mob boss to call home after a particularly long, indulgent afternoon making questionable life choices.

the hall reeked of wealth, the kind that demanded to be seen. opulence dripped from every corner — gilded fixtures, crystalline chandeliers, and glass displays showcasing treasures that screamed money but whispered nothing of taste. you twitched as you passed a goblet encrusted with enough jewels to buy a small city-state. the thought of how much it probably cost made your stomach twist.

"focus," gojo muttered at your side, his tone clipped. he squinted slightly, his sunglasses doing little to shield his six eyes from the garish light that spilled over the room like liquid gold., and you could tell it was a bit...much for his senses, making him blink rapidly. "we’ll sweep the displays, see if the amulet’s here."

you tilted your head, gesturing toward his snowy mop of hair, the unruly strands falling messily over his face and grazing the edge of his glasses. "and you’re sure they won’t recognise you, in this whole...circus?"

gojo's responding glance was sharp, flat, and utterly devoid of humour.

"most of these people wouldn’t recognise a threat if it was biting them in the ass," he said, voice low and laced with disdain. "they’re not sorcerers. just your garden-variety rich and bored — criminals, trust fund brats, maybe a politician trying to look cultured. the kind of people who buy antiques because they match their curtains and makes them look good for their friends."

the corner of your mouth betrayed you, twitching upward at his cutting dismissal of the glittering nonsense around you. he had hit the nail on the head, making contempt seem like an art form.

and worse, you hated how there was something almost…sexy about it.

the thought hit you like a slap, and you forced it down immediately. gojo and sexy didn’t belong in the same sentence. not in the same universe. fuck, not even as a passing joke.

"charmed as i am by your high opinion of humanity," you said dryly, trying to ground yourself in sarcasm, "maybe don’t make it obvious you hate everyone here. we're not here to arrest every person in this room."

gojo snorted softly, his lips curving into what might have been a smirk — or at least the ghost of one. "you think so little of me. i don’t hate everyone." his eyes flicked toward you, just for a second, before returning to the vast hall ahead.

it wasn’t much. barely a glance of electric blue. but it was enough to send your pulse into a sprint, and fuck him, he had to know it. you turned your attention to the nearest display, praying he didn’t notice the warmth blooming in your cheeks.

traitorous.

"let’s just find the amulet, and sato. and get out of here," you said briskly, your voice a shade too sharp.

"mhm," gojo's voice was infuriatingly calm, but when you looked up, his gaze wasn’t on the displays. it was on you.

"you look lost."

a voice, smooth and low, slid over you like silk, stopping you cold in your tracks. it hadn't come from gojo by your side, thank the heavens above, but it didn't make your heart any steadier. you turned towards the source, and your stomach did a three-point flip.

well. hello, gorgeous.

the type of good-looking that just felt unfair. the type that made you forget your name for half a second, and then hate yourself for it. the strnger stood out against the room of puffed-up men in overpriced suits, glittering with real diamonds of their cuff-links, and rolled cigars in their hands.

your eyes fell on dark auburn strands that fell in perfectly tousled strands over his forehead, and a tailored black suit that hugged a slender waist.

"i hope you didn't wander into the wrong hall," the stranger said, curling his lips into a faint smile, fraught with suspicion as it was.

you forced yourself not to stare — at an absurdly sharp jawline, at big brown eyes. but words were a different matter entirely. you struggled to conjure them, grasping for anything remotely coherent.

you settled on an appropriate response.

"um. no, we didn’t."

not your finest moment. not even close.

before you could mentally regroup with a few brain cells, a sharp jolt yanked you back to reality. you sucked in a sharp breath as gojo's long fingers pinched the underside of your arm, a deliberate sting that left you glaring at him.

he didn’t even bother to meet your eyes.

his entire focus was fixed on the stranger, his posture taut with unspoken tension, gojo's jaw clenched so tight you thought he might crack a perfect tooth.

the air shifted subtly, a faint hum of energy emanating from gojo. you knew that hum. it meant trouble. gojo, ever the master of simmering hostility, was gearing up for something, and he was looking weirdly agitated.

and you found it tasteless to jump the first person you had run into here.

"i usually know most of the guests at my events," the stranger continued, his voice calm, unbothered — but there was an edge to it, like he already knew the answer to the question he hadn’t asked.

oh.

you felt your stomach plummet as recognition dawned.

naoki sato.

no wonder gojo looked ready to snap someone in half. naoki wasn’t just anyone — he was the head of the voiceless. the host of this auction. the man whose fortune was built on enough shady dealings to fill a large library. the one who had more blood on his hands than those who had been dealt life sentences.

one of the most wanted jujutsu criminals in the world.

"you've — " gojo started, his voice sharp, but you cut him off with a forced, almost too-bright smile.

"you've thrown quite the party," you said, your words tripping over themselves as you elbowed gojo subtly, hoping to god he’d take the hint. "i’m actually quite new to the area. just exploring, hoping to find something good tonight."

gojo let out a low grunt, a sound that promised retribution later. you ignored him and plastered on a wider smile, one you hoped would distract from your partner's upcoming reversal: red.

"and, ah. this is my bodyguard...genji," you added, giving gojo's arm a firm retributive pinch through the fabric of his jacket.

the look he shot you could've melted steel, but you held your ground, determined not to let him ruin this.

if for once, he could take your plan into account, a great deal of bloodshed could be avoided.

naoki's faint cherry smile widened, bemused, "your…bodyguard?" he echoed, gaze flickering to gojo satoru.

gojo who stood like a coiled spring, gojo who certainly was no method actor. his icy glare practically speaking volumes of 'i will burn this room down.'

"well," naoki drawled, his tone almost playful now, and you flushed, "i hope you find what you’re looking for here."

behind him, his entourage, a cadre of hulking men stuffed into suits barely containing their bulk, followed with synchronised precision. they looked more like walking fortresses than bodyguards, with their cold and suspicious eyes cutting through the room as they passed.

one of them shot you an odd look, and you forced yourself to feign interest in a nearby display of sapphire-encrusted forks.

the moment the criminal was out of earshot, gojo leaned down, "genji? really?"

you shrugged, ignoring how you felt your nerves fray. and refusing to meet him half-way, "what? okay, i panicked. it was the first name i thought of."

"yeah, that was so convincing," gojo muttered darkly beside you, and you caught some bitten off words about how he was never going on a mission with you again, how yaga should never have roped him into this.

all things you blithely ignored.

you didn’t need to look at him to know he was furious. it rolled off him in waves, the tension in his posture, the barely audible hum of cursed energy still crackling under the surface.

"we don't even know where the amulet is. and imagine if we show up in front of yaga without it. you can do whatever you like with him after we get our hands on the cursed object," you whispered back, pretending to study the ridiculous cutlery with exaggerated focus.

gojo lowered his head, as though he suddenly saw the worth in gemstones embedded in cutlery, but just enough so he could glower at you. "you're flirting," he hissed, "i could have blasted through half this room, and just finished the job by now."

you coughed and hackled, "not all of us think effective battles are fought with a hollow purple."

"and not all of us,” gojo bit back, "feel the need to blush like schoolgirls the second someone bats an eyelash at us."

heat shot through you, part anger, part something you didn’t want to name. "blush?” you snapped. "i wasn’t blushing."

"you just wanted to jump his bones. thought we weren't here to get it wet."

"i'm not entertaining this conversation," but your voice was mildly higher pitched, drawing attention, "is that why you were there? standing like an idiot, or a jealous ex-boyfriend?"

gojo's sneer faltered, just for a split second, but it was enough to make your heart lurch with a strange, vindictive triumph.

"i wasn’t jealous," he said, "i was doing my job. y'know, being a jujutsu sorcerer. bringing a criminal to justice."

you opened your mouth, ready to retort, but no words came. because he wasn’t entirely wrong, and that infuriated you more than anything.

so instead, you lifted your hand, placing it firmly on his shoulder, onto the crisp and fine fabric of his jacket. you didn't miss the way he stiffened, briefly disarmed.

"look, i've got this. just stay close."

gojo's jaw tightened, and you could feel the unspoken protest simmering there. before he could get a word in, you turned away and called out.

"hey! naoki!"

the red-haired man stopped mid-stride, turning his head back toward you with a quizzical look. the confident words you’d planned evaporated the moment his sharp, brown eyes pinned you in place.

"i mean, naoki sato. mr. sato," you fumbled, mentally kicking yourself.

brilliant start. truly one of jujutsu tech's finest.

naoki raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting from confusion to faint amusement. his gaze flicked to gojo, who had crossed his arms like a fortress of disdain and immense ill-will.

"found something you like?" naoki asked smoothly.

you ignored the huff that escaped the white-haired man next to you, and forced a smile, "actually, i was hoping you could help me choose something out. i'm not an expert here, and there's just so much to see."

naoki's bodyguards shifted, their expressions darkening as if you’d committed some unspoken faux pas. but the crime boss merely tilted his head, the faintest hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

"ah, well," he said, drawing the word out lazily, "i don’t usually get this forward with my clients, but i suppose i'll make an exception."

his eyes slid once again to gojo, who was now glowering at a waiter hovering too close to his personal space, on the edges of infinity. "your bodyguard," naoki added helpfully, "can walk behind you. perhaps he'd like a drink to keep him occupied."

gojo's snarl could have peeled garish paint off the walls, "i don't want it."

you resisted the urge to roll your eyes at the stubborn ass.

instead, you pasted on a smile, tight and sweet, and shot gojo a look that could cut glass, "our host is offering you something. you want that drink, genji."

"i don’t want cream soda," gojo muttered, all mulish in his six foot three glory.

gritting your teeth, you flashed naoki a helpless look, like what can you do? bodyguards, am i right?

and you reached for the waiter's tray, grabbing a tall glass of the offending soda and thrusting it into gojo's warm hand. then you leaned in, your voice a whisper, "take it. smile and act normal. ten minutes, that’s all i need."

for a moment, his blue eyes locked on yours, a storm of irritation twirling in them. you were now close enough to feel the heat radiating off him, close enough to notice the faintest hitch in his breath.

but gojo, for once, didn’t argue. with a final glare, he downed half the glass in one long, defiant gulp, his adam’s apple bobbing as he drank.

naoki laughed, watching the scene unfold with thinly veiled amusement, "you're very kind to the help. shall we?"

you shot gojo satoru one last look — a mix of triumph and warning —before stepping forward.

but your partner, predictably, looked like he'd rather swallow glass than stand a moment longer here. still, bodyguard is as bodyguard does, and he trailed after you like a reluctant shadow.

"i must admit," naoki began, his brown eyes catching the glittering lights as they swept over you, "it's rare to see someone so beautiful at these things. i think i would have remembered seeing you before, too. i'm usually stuck with old men trying to swindle me out of my fortune."

a flush climbed up your neck, unwelcome and irritating at what must have been calculated words, enough to flatter and also to disarm.

behind you, gojo audibly scoffed, clearly abandoning all manner of proper etiquette. you glanced over your shoulder to see him gripping the stem of a champagne flute, his knuckles white. the empty glass of cream soda had been abandoned in favour of something stronger.

he caught your eye and rolled his, making a slicing gesture at his neck followed by a pointed hurry up motion.

"ignore him," you murmured to naoki, pushing forward.

naoki’s eyes gleamed with amusement, easily unbothered as he gestured for you to continue walking. "does your bodyguard always look like he’s seconds away from murder, or is this special treatment for me?"

you didn’t dare look back at gojo, “he’s just protective," you said carefully.

naoki chuckled, "protective, sure. but of his job...or you?"

the words struck a nerve you refused to acknowledge, so you pressed the conversation forward. ignoring the jitter that erupted in your stomach.

"can i ask...," you said, tilting your head just enough to feign casual curiosity, "are these all cursed objects? or just pretty trinkets?"

naoki's amusement didn’t falter, but his gaze sharpened, assessing you like you were a puzzle he was only now beginning to piece together.

"why?” he asked smoothly, "are you interested in jujutsu? i thought you were here to...browse."

fuck, caught, but not completely.

you played it off with a small shrug. "some members of my family dabble in jujutsu," you said, letting a sliver of truth escape, but letting the rest of your words drip with lies, "i can only see curses, i'm not a sorcerer. but most of my family still hates me for how i was born."

behind you, gojo shifted, his movements a touch sharper than before. he hadn’t known that, hadn't known the small truth that you had snuck into your words.

but naoki's expression softened, his smile more thoughtful now. "that’s rare. and often not appreciated, i imagine.”

you hesitated, cautiously, but nodded. "not by them, no."

"i understand. my parents hated jujutsu. thought it was unnatural, and against the way of the world. my grandfather...he was the only one who didn't," and there's a quiet sincerity threading naoki sato's words, "he raised me when my parents refused to. at least, until he passed."

something in his story tugged at you — a familiarity you hadn’t expected. your family’s disdain for your own jujutsu, their rejection, mirrored in his words. it was unsettling, but oddly not unwelcome.

"i’m sorry about your grandfather," you said softly.

"and i, about your family,” naoki replied, a calm mask settling over his features once more, reminding you so painfully of the sorcerer who trailed behind you, "no-one should be made to feel lesser, sorcerer or not."

you caught your lip between your teeth, hoping the red stain didn't catch onto your teeth, "i thought most sorcerers hated humans."

naoki shrugged, "we aren't all that different. all flesh and blood with temporary lives."

oddly wise words from a mass murderer, thief and criminal.

you glanced over at gojo again, and just as you predicted, his scowl deepened and the glass looked like it was about a shatter in his hands. if looks could kill, naoki sato would be the first to go, no questions asked, followed by you.

naoki snickered, "your shadow grows restless."

"ignore him, please," you muttered, stepping closer to a glass case to distract yourself, "what’s this?"

naoki followed, stepping closer so you could catch the scent of expensive almond and saffron, "ah," he said, gesturing at the artefact inside, "a blade, from ming dynasty china. the jade serpent on the hilt grants its wearer the ability to control minds. some say it can even raise the dead."

the claim sent a shiver down your spine, but you masked it with feigned interest, nodding as naoki moved on.

"and here," he continued, pointing to a golden ring, with an oddly boyish grin for someone dealing in murderous items, "the lion's eyes. said to see through any veil, any curse. the last treasure of the dynasty of the pharoahs."

you tried to listen, but gojo's presence loomed larger with every word. his disdain for naoki sato, his barely concealed anger at the stolen objects— it was all too palpable. when you glanced back, his scowl had deepened, and the champagne glass in his hand looked on the verge of shattering.

if looks could kill, naoki sato would already be six feet under. you would be next on the list.

you swallowed hard, turning back to naoki sato and pointing at the next display. "and this?"

naoki pushed his hands into the pockets of his slacks, "the broken english crown. apparently worn by the last king to die on the battlefield, and i haven't tried it on," he shares this with you, with a conspiratorial smile, "but legends say it fractures the bones of anyone deemed not powerful enough to wear it."

this criminal was not what you had expected at all. it was hard to reconcile the image of a hardened criminal with years of ruthless ambition, with this effortless charm and disarming way of making you lose the blurred line of correct propriety. you tried not to stare at how the warm light caught his auburn hair, like the autumn leaves in the dappled sun.

and yet, it wasn’t just his looks that threw you off. it was the way he carried himself — like he had nothing to prove and everything to hide. dangerous in a different way, one that was far harder to guard against.

it reminded you of gojo satoru.

"you know, i have to admit," naoki said, gesturing to the gilded displays around him, "most of this stuff? tacky as hell. but then, you would be surprised what most people would pay for tacky."

from a swindler, fraud and scammer? you were quite sure.

"funny, coming from someone whose livelihood depends on it. isn't that gaudy by association?"

naoki winked, and you averted your gaze from long brown lashes fluttering against soft skin, "touché. but people don't want to just buy the artefact, or the cursed object. they want the story. that shit's priceless."

you swallowed, focusing on how gojo was trying to draw your attention to a glass case hidden by all the others, and you hoped you weren't squinting, "so, you're just a storyteller then?"

but beside you, naoki sato tilted his head, "you could say that."

you thought of the clipped photos printed into the file. some in black and white, and some in raging shades of colour. where naoki sato's hands had painted entire buildings in shades of sticky red, and heads rolled on the floor. where his enhance technique could burst arteries and lungs, leaving people in pieces on the floor.

"sounds dramatic," you said, though your voice came out quieter than you intended.

"life's dramatic, and too short to not take what i want," naoki replied with a faint smile, his hand lightly brushing your waist as he guided you further past long tables.

you leaned into it without thinking, a tiny movement that made a creamy, berry flush paint over naoki's features. and the sorcerer's laugh was warm, low, like he’d already won something you didn’t realise was at stake.

behind you, a sharp cough broke the moment.

gojo.

you let your lips curl into a faint smile and leaned into naoki's just a fraction more, with a very deliberate look, one that spoke of triumph and having tamed a beast.

gojo's scowl deepened, his shoulders taut with barely restrained frustration, and he started mouthing at you, silent as his lips parted. if you read his mouth carefully, well...

he was calling you rather unflattering names.

"what's that?" but it was gojo's voice that roughly cut through the air, like gravel grinding underfoot. his shaded eyes were fixed on the glass case tucked in the corner.

you followed his gaze, past his outstretched arm, and your stomach twisted.

raijin's amulet.

the cursed object you’d been hunting, the one you’d sworn to protect at all costs, gleamed innocently behind its protective glass. you could recognise the serpentine dragon coiled protectively around the stone at its centre, its intricate carving daring anyone to claim it.

your frantic eyes met gojo's. his were sharp, seething. then, both your gazes flicked to naoki.

naoki, of course, noticed nothing — or pretended not to. he let out a soft hum, following gojo's pointed stare.

"the bodyguard's interested too?"

you coughed, cutting through the rising tension before gojo could turn that look into something explosive. the glass case between them might as well have been kindling for the fire brewing.

"it's mainly for academics," you said, feigning an air of curiosity. then, with practiced innocence, you tilted your head and smiled at the dangerous special grade cursed object as if it were nothing more than an ordinary trinket.

"but it’s so pretty. what is it, really?"

naoki's hand tightened subtly on your waist, and you tried to ignore the guilt that bubbled up in your chest when his sharp features softened at your feigned interest.

"it’s just an old thing," he said, his voice lowering as if sharing a secret meant only for you, "did you know it once belonged to ryomen sukuna?"

your mouth was dry, but you kept your face blank, tilting your head as though you’d never heard the name before, "sukuna?"

naoki pressed his palm to the glass case, his expression shifting into something darker, more reverent.

"the king of curses," he murmured. "lived over a thousand years ago. ruthless. when he died, most of his treasures were plundered by clans too greedy for their own good. but this..." he tapped the glass softly. "this one? it wasn't easy to get my hands on."

you leaned closer, feigning fascination while calculating your next move, trying to figure out how you could get close enough to that glass case without shattering the illusion cast on naoki sato, "what does it do?"

for a moment, naoki's eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering in their depths. but just as quickly, his expression smoothed out, and he chuckled.

"trust me, beautiful," he said, his voice like silk with an edge of warning. "you don’t want to wear that thing. i could get you something far more...safe."

you forced a smile, ignoring the chill that ran down your spine. instead, you threw a quick, desperate glance at gojo — a silent plea for the strongest to listen to you: i'll distract him. you get the amulet.

gojo's expression tightened, but his head snapped once, briefly, in the faintest hint of acknowledgement.

time to move.

you let out a soft, breathy laugh and tugged naoki toward a table, your hand brushing his arm with casual ease. "let’s sit," you suggested, leaning into his toned chest just enough to sell the act. "all this walking is making me tired."

naoki's laughter was warm, a touch too easy, and he let you guide him without resistance, "tsk, whatever you want," he murmured.

now you're trusting gojo satoru, simply because you had no other choice. he had to get the amulet out of the glass before alarms began to blare, and before needless blood was spilt over the glimmering floor.

and so you sat, letting naoki have his back to gojo, oblivious to the white-haired shadow slipping closer to the case. your eyes lingered on gojo, pulse racing each time he disappeared behind one of naoki's own burly guards.

but then naoki sato's gaze locked onto you, drawing your attention back with a searing warmth that caught you off guard.

"so," he asked, eyes glinting, "what do you think of all...this?"

"it's impressive," and you're surprised at how the truth has found a home in your mouth, "i didn't ever think of different sorcerers, around the world."

naoki leaned closer, with his elbows on his thighs, propping his face upon his hands, "most people don't. here, it's all about jujutsu. tokyo, this. kyoto, that. the higher ups are so narrow-minded. stuck in their ways, obsessed with tradition. they don't know anything about the world out there."

for a moment, his words startled you. they weren’t the boastful musings of a crime boss but something else. they reminded you of how gojo spoke about the rigidity of the old ways, about why he fought so hard to change things, to create a better world for jujutsu sorcerers.

ah, focus.

"hey," naoki suddenly said, pulling you out of your thoughts. his gaze was sharper now, more intense. and over his shouder, you caught the faintest blur of white hair in the background, gojo's movements.

but it was hard to focus on anything but naoki sato's face — the sharp lines softened by his proximity, the warmth in his dark eyes that you didn’t want to admit was almost magnetic.

he was a man marked for execution, and the warrant must have been burning a hole through your suite on the highest floor.

yet here he was, looking at you like you were something worth risking everything for.

and suddenly, you weren’t sure you wanted to see autumn's locks matted with rusted blood. to see eyes go dull and lifeless.

you felt like you had the moral spine of a sponge.

"can i kiss you?"

the question hit like a punch to the gut. your lips parted, but no sound came out. and suddenly, the steps in the background stopped too.

naoki's hand came up to your jaw, his touch unexpectedly reverent, and all you could think was: distraction. right. distract him for gojo. what the fuck is taking him so long?

so you closed the distance.

naoki's lips captured yours with a softness that disarmed you, but the kiss was anything but tentative, and you could taste a sweet tang like lemons and sugar. but you let his large hands pull you closer and his touch was warm and intoxicating.

the kind that made you forget, just for a moment, that this was all a ruse.

his lips moved against yours with a heat that made everything else fade to black, and his hands slid down your waist and back, tracing lines that felt dangerously real.

when you finally pulled away for air, your lips tingled, and your breath came in short bursts. you couldn’t help yourself — you reached up, your fingers brushing against his now-flushed lips, glossy under your touch, and you hated the way your stomach twisted from the way naoki sato melted under your touch.

focus, again.

you hoped, prayed, that gojo was doing his part, taking advantage of the way you had naoki sato, one of the most dangerous men in the entire world, wrapped around your finger, and bruising his tongue into your mouth.

but your gaze flicked upwards, past his shoulder and collided with something that stopped your heart cold.

electric blue. devastatingly vibrant, crackling with a fury that hit the air like a thunderstorm.

gojo's eyes pinned you in place, shadows pooling in sharp cerulean, from shades that had slipped just a touch down his nose. no mask to shield whatever expression gojo had clearly painted across his face.

hurt? anger? what the fuck, was that betrayal?

your throat tightened, and you resisted the urge to dig your nails into naoki's tailored jacket, to hiss at gojo to get a move on. to stop standing there like he had been hit with a shovel.

but the words didn't quite form, didn't pull at the corners of your mouth to silently shape them. his expression just held you captive, no. shamed you.

and that made you angrier. he had no right to look at you like that, like you had just crossed a line that you didn't even know was there.

but under you, naoki shifted, tilted your chip up to meet his lips again, and you let him. you...wanted him to. but the heat of his lips didn't drown out the chill of gojo's stare. your own body betrayed you with a shiver, one that you couldn't quite place yourself.

nerves, or desire.

the kiss was firmer this time, insistent, as if naoki sato was staking his claim in front of an invisible audience. his hand cupped the back of your neck, his thumb brushing the edge of your jaw with maddening ease, over the pulse of your neck.

and for a second, it was too easy to fall into the lie. but you felt it: the searing weight of gojo's glower burning into you, not far away.

naoki pulled back just slightly, his breath fanning your lips, "hey, you're distracted," he murmured, his voice low and teasing, his eyes scanning your face as though he wanted to read every thought. "should i be offended?"

"no," you said quickly, almost too quickly, "just a lot to take in."

naoki smiles, all coy and glazed lips, clearly pleased by what he thought was pure flattery, and not the glowering six-eyes shining behind him. "good. i think 'm gonna like leaving you speechless."

part of you knows that you just aren't seeing those pearly gates of heaven.

you know there's going to be a bouncer at the doors, with your face printed on a photo titled: dni! fraud! liar! the world's most incompetent jujutsu sorcerer! would bounce into a criminal's bed at first chance!

naoki's warm thumb lingers against your jaw, and your breath hitches just enough for the sorcerer to notice. you don't miss how his eyes darken, a hint of triumph gleaming in them.

you risked a glance past his shoulder again, and gojo was still there, stony-faced as naoki's own guards. but there's something else broiling in his eyes, rolling over his face like a thunderstorm cracks over a grassy plain. the fury in his eyes hadn't lessened, but now it was laced with something sharper, something that you can finally read.

jealousy. absolute glass-shattering, world-stopping levels of envy paint over gojo satoru's face.

the realisation hits you like a punch to the gut.

was he jealous of naoki sato? of you? of this entire charade that you both had agreed to? or rather, the one you had roped him into.

the idea shouldn’t have thrilled you, but it did. and it terrified you just as much.

you let naoki kiss you again, forcing yourself to deepen it this time, your hands coming up to rest against his hard chest. you don't miss how he suddenly parts from your lips, panting softly into your mouth, and suddenly you're hit with the most awful wave of longing for a man who cannot have.

naoki’s large hands, however, weren’t idle. one brushed the edge of your dress, under the shoulder strap of your powder-blue gown, his thumb grazing against the fabric, and your breath hitched.

you shift, your breath stuttering as naoki's other hand slides higher, his fingers brushing against the flesh of your thigh, pushing your dress higher, and his hand brushes against the silver details on the side, scratching your skin. it's maddening how cool air meets the heat of your now exposed skin, and naoki's mouth crushes against yours, as if he's equally savouring the taste of you.

"t-there are people here," you gasp, your voice a fractured whisper, trembling at the edge of composure, "what if they can see or watch?"

gojo satoru is here. gojo is watching. you know your partner is close enough to hear every breathless sound you make, every treasonous whine that slips past your lips.

but naoki sato's mouth is curved into a plush, wicked smile, "let them look," and his teeth are grazing against the curve enough in a way that makes you arch your back into him, he who is now leaning over you, as if he's the one trying to capture you, "who cares - hah?"

any reasonable thought of your duty. of honour, of a mission flees from your head.

the sight of gojo's softly parted mouth and darkened eyes as he watches you in another man's arms spurs you on, and you let naoki sato press his lips against the hollow of his throat.

naoki's long fingers are blazing as they reach the very apex of your thighs. as they press two rough pads into the sopping slick that's gathered in your panties, as they run themselves along dampened fabric in a way that has you openly keening.

"can i?" and your eyes meet the mahogany gaze of the man above you. it's electrifying. you should be ashamed, furious at how you're just being taken like this, on display. but this is a room of the seven deadly sins, where each corner of the room is a lesson in hedonism, and obscene wealth.

"please."

but your eyes are only on gojo satoru behind him. on how he catches the pale-pink of his bottom lip between his teeth, and his face is seething. how his darkened eyes drop to naoki's hand working its way between your legs, and you wantonly roll your hips up to meet him there.

you let writhing fingers slip under the waistband of your pale-blue underwear, dipping into glossy, thick arousal. but you also don't miss the tent in gojo satoru's grey slacks, only metres away, and the frenzied look making him look pained.

you would be lying if you said you didn't enjoy moaning openly, spreading your legs just a bit wider, so gojo could get a glimpse of your drooling cunt.

"fuck, 's good. so good, naoki."

a finger travels up, away from your winking entrance to press a soft flick against your throbbing clit, "yeah?"

and the beautiful man in between your legs all but purrs. pleased beyond measure at how you've apparently been captured, heart and soul by him. and your attention snaps back to how he suddenly draws his fingers off your soaked cunt, and brings them up to his mouth.

"sweetest thing i've ever tasted, i think 'm gonna have -"

and then, it hit you.

a hot, sticky spray of liquid.

the scent of iron slammed into your senses as fresh blood splattered across your face, your chest, and stained the delicate blue of your dress into a deep and damning red. it clung to your skin, to your lips as you pressed your mouth shut, fighting the bile rising in your throat.

reversal: red crackled in the air, cursed energy humming sharp, and it had sliced through the hall like a whip. naoki's arm had been torn from your waist, wrenched away as he staggered back with a guttural hiss, and you avert your eyes from the blood that paints the space between you.

"that's enough."

gojo satoru's voice is like a thunderclap, reverberating around your ears, and when you finally meet his gaze, you're met with unbridled fury. you're not sure where his shades have gone, but you're met with the full weight of six-eyes, blazing and unrelenting.

naoki stumbles ahead of you, clutching his shoulder where blood seeps through his fingers, torn between shock and raw rage. his cherry-lips are curled back into a snarl, flush with indignation.

"hah, you're a sorcerer?," and naoki sato's voice drips with venom, heavy with disbelief.

you're not quite sure gojo satoru needs to answer. not when his presence alone sends waves of cold through the hall, cutting the air precisely, cleaving it.

but there's a man running towards the commotion, a guard encumbered by a hefty black suit, and there's a cold shock that runs through you as your eyes fall on the gun at his side.

"we think that's gojo satoru," the guard wheezes, breathless.

"you're telling me this now? i gave you fuckwits one job," naoki snarls, shaking the man, with his nails dug into the guard's shoulder.

and you're quickly pushing your dress down, letting the fabric spill over your legs once more, fighting back the hot sparks that sting at your eyes.

it's enough to snap naoki's attention back to you. and for a moment, for the briefest of moment, he wasn't the hardened criminal you had been playing this dangerous game with. a boy your age, wild and beautiful, and utterly undone.

and it heaves your stomach at how the fury in his gaze trembles slightly, just enough to reveal betrayal underneath that strikes you harder than any limitless could.and it struck you harder than any whip of magic ever could.

"i must be stupid, fuck," naoki's voice cracks as he spits the words, his expression twisted with something raw, something painfully human, "you’re a jujutsu sorcerer too, aren't you?"

the accusation was a dagger, his voice trembling with disbelief but its wholly true, and your head wavers in a half-shake, half-nod.

"you’re with him, aren't you? just another one of the higher up's lapdogs?"

the words weren’t a question — they were a condemnation.

naoki's lips are curled, and his bloodied arm is now trembling but steady, defiance burning through the pain.

and a whisper in your mind tells you to smash the glass case holding the amulet, to push through it with your bare hands, just so you can bleed alongside him.

but naoki sato's bitter scoff shatters that thought, and his gaze must have followed yours, sharp and knowing, for his hand has moved faster, pulling the gun from the guard's holster.

the blast came before you could even think, loud and jarring.

but you never saw the bullet's path, only gojo.

gojo, whose arm has snapped in front of you like a barrier, impossibly fast, and well within the bounds of his infinity. as if he had tore through space itself.

the bullet collides with infinity, ricocheting into the chaos of the panicking crowd.

naoki’s gaze didn’t waver. it slices back to gojo, sharp, calculating, and darkly amused. he must have seen it now, everything.

the truth was etched in the way gojo had positioned himself, the way his blazing blue eyes never left you, the unspoken claim humming in the air like a second heartbeat.

naoki sato's laugh is lower, bitter, and you watch the mesmerising plink! of crimson on the floor.

"he's protecting you, isn’t he?" his voice dripped with venom, each word striking like a dagger, "how sweet.”

and just like that, something broke. gojo's restraint, most likely.

you can see how his fingers are flexing, his hands lifting and cursed energy is coiling at his fingertips. his thumb and index finger brush, a telltale sign of an impending blast. hollow purple.

you clench your eyes shut, bracing for the devastation of the impact —

but naoki sato was faster.

his arms snapped outward, a surge of his own jujutsu ripping through the space between you. the bodyguards around you crumpled like ragdolls, their bodies bursting under the pressure. blood sprayed in thick, sticky waves, painting the walls, the floor — against the edges of infinity.

you opened your eyes in time to see gojo falter, his hands trembling as he stared at the carnage. even he, the unflinching sorcerer, the strongest, looked shaken by the sheer brutality of what cursed technique: enhance was capable of.

and in the heartbeat of his hesitation, naoki was gone.

"fuck's sake! s-satoru! let go of me!" you snap, voice cracking with fury as you fight against gojo's tight grasp.

his vivid focus shoots back to you, his expression a storm of anger and disbelief, "what?" and gojo's voice is razer-sharp, "if you think i'm letting you go after that stunt you pulled -"

"shut up!" and you can feel your own desperation cut through the air, "you go after him, i'll go after the amulet."

you toss your head to the shattered glass and the chaos erupting all around you, "if that thing gets lost in the mess, we've done this all for nothing!"

gojo's jaw is clenched, his mouth pressed into a hard and furious line. for a moment, you think he's going to argue with you again, but then you're dropped unceremoniously to the ground.

pain shoots through your knees as you land, but you're soon hauling yourself up.

"go!" you hiss, shoving at his shoulder, "i'll come find you when i have it."

gojo hesitates for a fraction of a second longer, then he's gone — a blur of movement faster than your eyes could track, leaving you alone in the chaos.

your hands tremble as you grab a heavy steel bar from the wreckage, swinging it with all your strength at the glass case. the sound of shattering glass barely registers as you reach inside, your fingers curling around the cold, smooth surface of the amulet.

wild shocks run through you, and you almost keel over, feeling the rush and pulse of such a cursed object against your skin. but it's safe. you have it now.

with it clutched tightly in your hand, you turned and run.

by now, you can't find it within yourself to stop the hot tears from running down your cheeks, streaming freely as you tear through the blood-soaked scene.

you run, the air sharp and cold against your skin, your heartbeat an unrelenting drum in your ears. the thump! making your head pound.

you can follow the residuals of gojo's cursed energy, lingering like a sickly beacon, drawing you back to the dull parking lot. you pushed open the doors with both hands, red smudging onto the concrete as you ignored the sting of your palms

and then you saw it. saw it all.

the scene hits you like a wrecking ball, knocking the breath clean from your lungs.

a body lies crumpled on the ground, its lifelessness more harrowing than the carnage that surrounds it. blood, thick and sticky, smears across the concrete. massive pillars, toppled like a child's toys in the wake of a clear explosion.

your gaze snags on a limp hand sprawled on the floor, and you feel your stomach twist. instinctively, your tongue slides against the back of your teeth, and the metallic tang of iron is already sleeping into your senses.

and then, there was gojo satoru.

he stands amid the wreckage, like a figure carved from shadows, and ice. and fury. his chest softly rises and falls, as though he had been running for miles, his hair disheveled and darkened with sweat.

the sight of him might have almost been human, almost comforting. if not for the gore streaked across his hands, and the thing he drops onto the concrete with a hollow thud.

you don't look at it. you don't think you can. your stomach knows the truth before your mind catches up, bile heaving within you once more.

the head of naoki sato. he would never have stood a chance against the strongest sorcerer in modern history.

final task: retrieve artefact. execute naoki sato on site. alternatively, bring in for execution.

you mind flashes back to that dastardly pink sticky note, still stuck to the case file.

what did you feel now? anger? sadness?

maybe both. maybe neither.

the blood pooling in front of gojo is already congealing, its sickly shine dimming in the cold, fluorescent light of the lot.

you were tired of seeing blood, of tasting it on your tongue, of breathing it in like the very air you needed to survive.

you’d thought there would be relief in the end. but instead, disappointment had rooted itself deep inside you, twisting itself.

naoki sato, for all his crimes and cruetly, had been...something. somewhere beneath the sly smirks and sharp words, there had been glimpses of something that almost looked like hope. he had said he wanted better — for everyone. for you. was it a lie? or had you twisted his words into something more comforting than the truth, desparate to see light where there was none?

your throat burns, but no tears come. just a hollow ache that matches the cold weight of raijin's amulet in your hand. you looked at it now, the thing you’d fought so hard to win, its edges biting into your skin, the dragon leaving its mark.

gojo's voice cut through the silence, low and ragged, and tired, "don’t look."

you hadn’t even realised you were staring, your eyes hovering dangerously close to the lifeless hand on the ground.

"i'm sorry," he had continued, his tone strangely neutral, as if apologising for a cracked glass rather than the irrevocable violence around him, that seemed to trail after him, "i had to do it."

you laughed then, short and bitter, the sound cracking like a whip against the cold air. "had to, gojo?" your voice trembled, not with fear, but something darker. something far more raw.

his gaze had snapped to you, and there it was — the thing that always churned between you two. a storm of emotions, tangled so tightly you could no longer tell where hate ended and yearning began.

"you think this is the resolution i wanted?" gojo shot back, his voice laced with something too jagged to be regret. "you think i enjoyed that?"

and in the most twisted, perverse theatre of your mind's eye, you see gojo's open-mouthed stare, focused on how another man touched you, made you his.

"i don’t know what you enjoy anymore," you take a step closer, your grip tightening on amulet until your knuckles whitened. but the air pushed from your lungs, "but - god, gojo. forget it. i-i don't even know. 'm sorry, too."

gojo sighs, and you see the exhaustion hanging over him too, "we'll go back tomorrow morning."

the walk back to your room is…suffocating. the air is thick with everything that you just cannot say, words that you can't even bring your heavy tongue to shape.

gojo is beind you, and you can feel the weight of his presence pressing between your shoulder blades, but you just can't turn around. you don't dare to. raijin's amulet is still clenched in your hand, and its edges are cutting into your palm, a form of self-flagellation you suppose.

you push the door open, and your breath catches and hitches as you slip inside, slamming it shut after he follows. locking it with shaking hands.

in the suite, the moonlight now slices through the half-drawn curtains, as the tokyo skyline glimmers underneath you. it's painting silver lines across gojo's spectral frame, and he strides to the amenities sink, a smaller outlet near the door.

you watch, as though you're holding a sacred vigil.

your gaze doesn't leave gojo's figure as he throws his jacket off his sharp torso with a disgusted sigh, leaving him in his black dress shirt and a loosened tie.

still watching as his movements are tense, restless as he cups water from the faucet in his hands, splashing it onto his face.

when he finally looks up, gojo's white is hair dripping, his tie slightly askew, and his tired eyes catch yours like a snare.

for a moment, you’re frozen. neither of you say a word. the air feels too thin to breathe, and his gaze is too much — too piercing, too relentless, too him.

you can’t take it.

with a sharp motion, you slam the amulet onto the table, the sound echoing through the quiet room. you spin on your heel and lock yourself in the bathroom, shutting him out.

inside, the luxurious space feels surreal. marble floors gleam under the soft glow of recessed lighting, gold fixtures glinting and stinging your eyes. it smells faintly of jasmine and mint, too perfect for the mess you're about to create.

you grip the edge of the sink as the first sob wrenches its way out of your chest, hot and raw.

tears spill over, cascading down your cheeks in waves you can’t control. they come faster, harder, until you’re gasping, choking on gulps of air that burn in your throat.

you sink onto the cool floor tiles, your knees pulled to your chest as the sobs wrack your body. the weight of everything, what you did, gojo's eyes gleaming, naoki sato's hands on you, the smell of blood, it all crashes over you like a tidal wave. it’s too much for a human heart to bear in one night.

but your hands are shaking as you reach for the hem of your once beautiful dress, peeling it off with clumsy, desperate motions. the air is cool against your skin, you who is now left in undergarments.

and you stare blankly at the blood that smears your arms and legs, before grabbing a small towel, dampening it under the sink and wiping crimson stains away.

small cuts sting on your skin, faint patches where glass struck you, and you hiss.

a knock rattles the bathroom door, sharp and unrelenting, dragging you back to reality.

you close your eyes and exhale through gritted teeth, your voice brittle, "not now, gojo."

silence follows, stretching out long enough to offer the illusion of peace. but then it breaks. another knock, louder, more insistent this time.

"satoru, i swear to god," you snap, your exhaustion fraying into something sharp, laced with more venom now.

there’s a sigh from the other side, audible even through the thick wood, "don't make me blast this door down."

you groan, rolling your eyes as you toss the bloodied towel onto the counter, "you wouldn't dare."

"try me. just open the door, would'you?"

you don’t have the energy to argue, and something in his tone tells you that gojo isn’t bluffing. and so you dragged yourself upright, swinging the door open with more force than necessary.

gojo stands there, with damp hair still clinging to his forehead, beads of water trailing down his templates. and his sleeves are rolled up now, revealing thick forearms flecked with rust and crimson. it wouldn't be his. no, gojo hasn't bled in over a decade.

you straighten, aware of your own state right now. in your undergarments, only shielding you from being entirely bare under his gaze. but the only clothes in this room with you are now crumpled on the floor, in a heap of ice-blue and dark red.

let him look. he's seen more than enough now.

and so you lean back against the sink, crossing your arms as your eyes meet blue, "what do you want?"

gojo hesitates, his jaw tightening as he braces himself. when he finally speaks, his voice is low, rough around the edges, "just...asking if you're alright."

the laugh that escapes you is sharp and hollow, devoid of any humour, "why wouldn't i be?"

gojo's faze flickers, his expression unreadable, but his eyes linger a moment too long. you let him trace the dried blood smeared across your collarbone, the faint scratches on your skin.

"after all of that tonight..." he starts, but the words hang in the air between the two of you, unfinished. his voice suddenly falters, and you're struck by how gojo's razor-sharp confidence has dulled into something weaker, more conflicted.

you know exactly what he means. the stunt he's referring to, in his own earlier words. you wonder what exactly is eating at him now. is it honest concern, pride? residual envy?

"please, trust me. i'm fine, we managed to do what was asked of us, anyway," you clip curtly, hoping your tone is final enough.

gojo looks at you like he doesn't believe a single syllable that slips from your bitten lips, but then his shoulders sag and he exhales sharply, "fine," he mutters, turning on his heel as if he's the one that can't stand to be near you any longer.

"wait."

the word slips out before you can stop it, and gojo pauses, and his eyes are narrowed with suspicion.

you swallow hard, suddenly unsure of yourself, and lift a clean towel from the counter, helping yourself to another one of the hotel's free amenities, "can you help me with this?"

an olive branch.

you gesture with a single finger, over dried blood that has streaked over your back, your neck. the hollow of your collarbone.

you can see the refusal dancing on his tongue, the hesitation in the way his throat bobs, and how gojo's eyes flicker over you once more.

but he doesn't refuse. gojo just wordlessly steps forward, taking the towel from your outstretched hand. you watch, silently, as he moves to the sink and runs it under cold water. you're sitting on the edge of the counter now so you face him, watching the warm golden glow of the overhead lights in his pale hair.

the porcelain is cold against your thighs as you angle yourself away from the mirror, facing gojo. the towel in his hand drips faintly, and you watch as he hesitates again, just for a fraction of a second before stepping closer.

at first, his movements are slow and careful. he's raising the towel, and his hand is steady as you feel the first touch of the cool fabric against your back. a shiver practically races down your spine, not from the cold, but from the way his arm snakes behind you, brushing against your bare skin.

it's subtle at first, but you notice it. the hitch in his breath, the faint tremour in his movements.

gojo, who is always so infuriatingly composed, is shaken. you hear it in the sorcerer's uneven exhale that he doesn't quite manage to suppress, the way his fingers press the towel just a little too harshly.

the suite is silent now except for the faint drip of water and the rasp of fabric against your skin. you should say something, anything, but the words don’t come. instead, your gaze fixes on him, his profile illuminated by the warm glow of the bathroom light.

gojo's features are always striking, almost ethereal: the ice-white hair that falls messily against his forehead, the long white lashes that frame those sharp, cerulean-blue eyes. there’s something softened by the warm light, as though the harshness of his presence, of a man who stands above heaven and earth, has been dulled just enough to make him seem almost...human again.

but you feel as though your heart must just give way, pounding so hard that it may burst. where the blood that fell from another man's veins had somehow drawn a line to gojo satoru instead.

an hour ago, you had been arched into another, naoki sato, one who had been a dead man walking. an hour ago, his hands were on you, his lips hot and insistent, and his eyes were warm, and now he’s gone. dead. gojo made sure of that. and that was always meant to happen.

the thought should make you furious. it should make you push gojo away, but instead, all you can do is sit there, feeling his hands —gentle now, impossibly careful, on your skin.

it's wrong. it's so deeply, fundamentally wrong, and yet the space another man left feels like it was carved out for gojo satoru all along.

gojo's touch slows as he runs the towel over your skin, tracing the line of your collarbone with a precision that feels almost tender. your eyes slip closed for a moment, the warmth of his hand lingering even as the cold water wipes away the blood.

then he moves again.

it happens fast enough that you barely register it. one second, gojo satoru is standing tall and focused on the task, and the next...he's leaning down. his breath ghosting over the hollow of your neck.

you feel your entire world tilt as his lips press softly against the curve where your neck meets your shoulder, a touch so light that it feels stolen.

but now you've frozen, every breath catching as though the air was snatched from your lungs. every nerve feels as though it's on fire, hyper-aware of how soft the brush of his lips was, the faint scrape of his teeth just shy of your skin.

how gojo's lips were almost reverent, like a prayer offered in silence. how he was worshipping something he couldn't ever have.

but your eyes snap open to meet his.

gojos's cerulean eyes are molten, the usual ice cracked and melting into something deep and desperate and all-consuming. they bore into yours, wild and unguraded, and the pale lashes framing them tremble lighting as though even he's unsure of what he's just done.

but gojo's pupils are also blown wide, and electric. like a storm trapped in glass.

you swallow hard, your pulse thundering in your throat. slowly, cautiously, you dip your head, just enough to give him permission without saying a word.

the look in his eyes shifts — hunger, disbelief, and something darker all tangled together. he presses his lips to your neck again, firmer this time, lingering as though committing the feel of your skin to memory. then again, slightly higher, his breath hot and uneven against you.

"satoru…" the name slips from your lips in a whisper, trembling and unbidden.

the warmth of his tongue catches you off guard, tracing the curve of your neck in a way that sends a jolt through your entire body, heat down to your thighs. it's...unhinged, but the part of you that should push him away is nowhere to be found.

gojo pulls back just enough for you to see the faint smile curling at the corner of his mouth, though his eyes remain dark, intense, and burning with something that feels too big for the room.

"another man got to taste you," he whispers, "now i've tasted him."

you almost laugh, sharp and bitter. the sound lodging in your throat. the absurdity of it all, the jealously lacing his words like a poison vine, the way his breath still fans against your skin.

"that's insane," you manage, your voice shaking. it does little to stop the searing heat curling low in your stomach.

for a second, gojo's breath is still hot against your neck. and then suddenly, his hands are on you.

and fuck, it's not delicate at all. there's a roughness to his touch, desparate and unrestrained, as though something inside him as finally snapped.

his palms trace along your bare shoulders, sliding down to your arms, and then to your waist. his fingers press into your skin with a heat that makes you feel like you're burning from the inside out. you don't even realise when you had opened your mouth slightly, panting as if you're trying to pull more air in.

"gojo," you manage, barely audible, and you're acutely aware of the low tense ache beginning to throb in your groin.

his hands slow for a moment, resting on your sides as if he’s trying to ground himself, or stop himself. and gojo's eyes find yours again, and they’re ablaze.

"can i keep going?"

you wonder just how you've managed to unravel this man, to leave his voice hanging by a thread in the air.

you don’t answer right away, your head swimming with confusion, slick desire, and something dangerously close to surrender. gojo satoru is watching you so intently it’s like he’s searching for every unspoken answer written on your skin.

finally, you shift — subtle, but enough. your knees part slightly, just enough for him to step between your bare thighs.

"what do you want me to do?"

you're aware of the insistent, rhythmic pulsing under your panties. of how every small shift of gojo's body against yours amplifies the soft arousal forming, as your heart pounds faster.

and so you let your fingers hook onto the pale waistband of your underwear, and you watch as his gaze follows your movements.

"i want you to touch me, there. please."

you hear the white-haired man breathe out a thankful, reverent fuck before he's following the path of your own hands, hooking a slender finger into your waistband and pulling your underwear down, and off.

and you're so painfully aware of your own arousal right now, the wet that is pooling beneath you. it feels like a relief, parting your legs so your searing heat meets cool air.

"that's perfect, look at t-that," and you're suddenly whining as gojo's fingertips begin grazing sloppy folds, raking themselves over your fluttering entrance, "she's practically been beggin' for my touch all this time, hah!"

"you - ohh, gojo!" you moan, feeling awfully faint from the rippling warmth making your cunt tighten around him, each pshh! echoing in your burning ears, "y-you wish!"

gojo's laugh is a little crazed, undone as he rolls his fingers in practiced curls, at an inhuman pace. bullying his fingers into your opening, as he rasps, "yeah, i w-wish. 'm wishing for this all the time. you never knew, huh?"

"f-fuck, if i had known it felt like this, would've stuck my fingers in h-her a long time ago," gojo unfurls his fingers that only just separated from your winking pussy, and you can only watch.

equally mesmerised as his slender fingers are coated in strands of your slick, clinging to the curves of his short nails and coating them in a mirror sheen.

"have some c-class, gojo! you've lost your fuckin' mind -"

smack!

the dewy pads of his fingers have come down in a harsh arc, slapping right at your throbbing clit, and the jolt sends such an incredible crack of lightning down your spine that you're bucking your hips back up into his hand, back for more.

"some class? hah, 'm not able to do that now, baby," and you can feel gojo shudder under your touch, as you paw at the linen of his black dress shirt, raking your nails over his pectorals, "not when it f-feels like your pussy is about to, fuck, vacuum my fingers off."

"i swear to god, gojo. never say that corny shit a-again."

but it's hard to convey any sense of righteous fury like this. not when he's back to pushing the tapered ends of his long fingers in and out of your tight heat. each brush from the pads of his fingertips leaves you squealing, tugging at the snowy strands on the back of his head.

but gojo's teeth are sharp as they sink into the damp skin of your neck with an almost reverent press, easily snapping through the delicate flesh.

and you're squealing, shocked at how fucking bold gojo satoru has become, whining at how a sharp hiss pulses through you, and you can feel the warmth of blood beginning to bloom and pool over your collarbone.

"shit, 'm sorry, baby. so sorry. but i'm gonna need to see you l-like this," and suddenly gojo snaps away the pussydrunk babble falling from his candied mouth, and he's pressing a searing kiss to your jaw, and the air becomes hazy with the scent of an insanely expensive cologne, cedar and something...sweet, like cardamom.

still, there's hardly time to dissect that.

not when his thick arm is around your waist, handling you until you're smack bang between his legs, right between dark slacks. and gojo has shifted, so your back is flat against the hard planes of his chest, and your knuckles can only grip at the vanity sink. so your eyes can only see your naked torso twisting in the mirror.

"keep your eyes h-here, sweets. on us."

and god, that's exactly where your eyes are. falling on a tense forearm around your waist, as the other works its fierce way through the clamping, gummy walls of your leaking cunt. and you're shuddering underneath him, feeling each brush of his fingers in you.

"w-we make a pretty sight, don't we, yeah?" and the words are spilling from gojo's lips with a certain smugness, but it's rough around the edges, strained. and you just can't look away from how utterly ruined he looks, from touching you.

you watch the glossed shine of your trickling pussy twinkle in the warm lights, as gojo pushes your thighs open wider. his frame leans over yours, taut and straining. and his lips are flushed and parted, betraying the deep ache of his breath.

"go onnn, say it. c'mon," and now gojo's whining in your ear, letting his hand push further into the mess as your pussy is practically weeping onto his fingertips, "won't let you c-cum if you don't say it."

your chest heaves with each desperate, gulping breath. and you can see gojo's vision narrow on how your tits threaten to spill out from their confines, the swell of your chest rising as you try to draw air through your close orgasmic daze. where the edges of your vision blur, and your heart is pounding erratically, "ahhh, gojo! 'm gonna, i think 'm gonna, oh my god!"

but there's more, you want so much more.

and against better thought, you push and elbow back into gojo's chest, heaving as he flicks his thumb over your aching clit.

"hah, what is it now? fuck was that for?" and the man is scowling at you, seemingly irritated that you drew him away from the hypnotic pull of your pulsing walls.

you swivel, away from the mirror so you're facing him. and your eyes fall on the heavy, pitched tent in gojo's grey slacks, one that must be aching and awfully painful from the way he's running his pink tongue over his bruised mouth.

"wan' more, gojo. on the bed."

you've reached up behind your back, unhooking the clip that was holding your bra together. it falls, and you toss it into the pile where gojo had flung your clingy panties, over your gorgeous dress.

and you think gojo satoru might have just had a minor heart attack.

his expression has shifted, lips parted as he takes in your naked form. you think you hear his breath hitch, as his eyes roam over you, unblinking. you're certain that the mildly brighter light in the room has nothing to do with what's overhead, rather the bright blue of gojo's six eyes.

you snicker at his dumbstruck expression, letting your hand curl around his wrist — marvelling at how he almost whines at the sight of you pushing him out of the bathroom suite, and onto that glorious bed that the two of you had argued over earlier in the day.

"n-not so opposed to sharing a bed with me now, sweets? oh, fuck," you don't let him get any more words out, since you're reaching for the sleek leather belt threading through the loops of his slacks, pawing at them so you can finally undress him. have him as bare as you are now.

something in your desparate touch must have made gojo snap, because now he's shuffling the two of you around, so you're practically splayed out under his warm, large hands. thighs spread, parted so your dripping cunt is displayed to the room, as he scoots closer. his knees pressing against the carpet.

"hnnghh, f-fuck, look at her. practically cryin' on me."

and what a sight. gojo satoru, the most powerful man to walk this earth in centuries is slumped beneath your thighs, close enough to your clit that when he breathes, he knocks his nose right over the sensitive bud, coating his face in that syrupy glaze.

and then its slow, painful. how his long tongue descends onto your weeping pussy, writhing flat in wide, broad strokes that leave you whining out his name.

you spread your legs even wider, fighting against gojo's tight grip on the flesh of your thighs. the thighs that are trembling as he brings his teeth up to graze your clit, and your arousal drips from his lips. making candied pink lips look like they've been glazed and dipped in sugar.

briefly, in the back of your mind, you wonder how you're going to continue to function tomorrow. how you're going to even be able to walk after gojo satoru has rendered you boneless.

you also wonder if there's a cosmic deity out there, looking at an invisible and heavenly camera with a dull look on their face. something like what can you do?

"mmhph, y'know i l-like this a lot better than that drink from earlier," and he's cooing at how you squeal and moan, "hah, what was that s-shit called? a cream soda."

you pull at the white strands of his hair, yanking gojo's head back from where his tongue had been lolling around your clit, ignoring his whine, "if y-you make a stupid, fuckin' joke about creaming, i'm g-gonna leave."

gojo rolls his eyes, but this time? this time, there's no malice in it, no irritation. his expression is almost fond, if not shadowed by the enormity of his own lust, "leaving before the main event is dumb choice, sweets."

"tch! get to i-it then, oh! what the fuck, gojo!"

he's found the right place to prod, to roll his fingers over the hood of your clit, occasionally propping his mouth down to suck at it lightly. your mouth is clamped shut, so you don't release an absurd amount of babble, wordless and airless about how good he's devouring you.

"hah," gojo huffs, pressing three flat fingers against your entrance, letting them curl into your walls, enough to tease you, "i can feel her beating for me. 's pulsing all over."

"c-can't you jus' make me cum?" your hands are desparate for some friction, running past your perked tits, down to his hair again. now clamping your thighs around his head, and the soft, snowy hair of his head tickles at your skin.

"can' believe you're talking shit when i'm e-eating you out," gojo chuckles, but you're just too mesmerised by the glint of your slick lighting a beacon over the lower half of his face, strands of slick as he pulls away from your pussy, "y'not that patient, huh?"

he's practically attached to your clit now, kissing it with a tender and yet firm press of his lips, seemingly aware of just how sensitive you are to that type of pressure.

you whimper and mewl as gojo's head disappeared back between your legs, deeper and lower as his tongue pushes into your pussy, flicking shallow thrusts that makes you breathe out gasps of his name.

"now i think 'm gonna cum, so close, satoru," with your hand firmly lodged in his platinum strands, you're rocking your hips messily, sloppily against his awaiting mouth.

"y-yeah? go on, sweets," he's moaning now too, and you don't miss how the edge of the bed rocks just a bit from him grinding the frame for some release on his own erection.

your orgasm makes your mind foggy, and you practically quake in gojo's large, warm hands. with a sharp cry of his name, followed by an endless chant of praise for the unearthly man between your legs, lapping at you as though you are his last drink, his last meal on this earth before he ascends elsewhere.

the hard streaks of white shoot through your vision, even as you come down from the incredible high, and you realise gojo has not stopped.

gojo's jaw is still locked as your slick dribbles down your folds, into his open mouth and onto his waiting tongue. the extra stimulation makes you deliriously cry out, "fuck, s-satoru! 's too much, holy fuck!"

you were still shaking, and a second orgam blurred your sight into an incredible spectrum of colours, white hot starlight and streaks of blue. that cascade of vivid tints flood your vision, each one jerking your hips and cunt forward until you felt your legs give way.

until gojo finally separated himself from your thighs, satisfied at how he had pulled two climaxes from you.

he's absolutely lost it, lost in that daze of being pussywhipped, and his eyes gleam with a feverish intensity. and when he crashes pink, glossy lips down on your mouth, you can feel him shake under your touch.

you moan, loud, as he nips at your lower lip. at how you can taste yourself on his tongue, syrup strands falling into your mouth as gojo suddenly twitches.

"i think 'm gonna have to be in you right now, otherwise i'll literally fuckin' die."

a breathy laugh falls from your lips as your partner pulls himself up, heavy limbs finally extracting themselves away from your naked body, reaching up to hook his fingers over the black crinkle of his rumpled dress shirt, pulling the fabric off.

leaving your mouth dry.

the moonlight spills over gojo's torso, and you track your eyes over his broad chest, rising and falling and flushed from his own arousal.

you follow the faint dusting of pale white hair as it disappeared past the waistband of his slacks that he's quickly making short work of, and you feel your pussy clench thinking about how badly you need to jump gojo satoru's bones.

but you're too transfixed by him, by the sculpted figure of a supposedly cold and arrogant bastard you've spent months and years rolling your eyes at.

he's real. all hot flesh and blood, and stunning. not that sneering, and infuriating man who's always one step ahead, always one callous word away from making your blood boil.

for a different heat has settled in you now, as your eyes fall on his throbbing cock that has sprung forth, up over his stomach. the tip is an angry, and furious berry-pink and you wonder just how you're going to make these inches fit.

"hah, didn’t think you'd be this shy, you know,” he says, voice a low, husky tease, as if he’s been watching your struggle. gojo's eyes glint with amusement, but there’s something deeper beneath it, something that you hope with lead him to take mercy on you.

"n-no. no," you repeat yourself more firmly, but it's far too breathless to be convincing, "no, 'm not shy."

but it's hard to form coherent thoughts when gojo satoru is towering over you, and his absurdly long and girthy shaft is twitching in between your slick folds.

"fuck you, s-satoru," you're whimpering, feeling the pulsing, rounded head of his flushed tip brush past your sensitive, drooling slit, "taking too long. jus' put it in already."

"mhmm, sweets," and gojo's bustling at your thighs now, pinching the soft and tender skin in retaliation for your touch undoing him so easily, "she can't even be patient, hah, trus' me. just lay back."

you comply, just this once. just because gojo satoru's cock looks so big, you think you need to gather all your thoughts so you'll be able to form coherent sentences later.

resting your head back on plush sheets, with the skyline twinkling in your peripheral vision as gojo's aligning himself with your cunt. he's gasping in low, shuddering breaths as his tip teases and hooks onto your inner walls.

"look at thaaat, oh! baby, fuck, wasn' even joking before, just sucking me up so fuckin' good!"

you don't reply, just mewling as he pushes inch after veiny inch into your dribbling walls, gasping as his large hands rest on the back of your thighs, pushing them further up so he can slot his torso in between your legs.

"oh my god, satoru! s-satoru, hnnhgh, it's too much — i don' think it's gon' fit," you always thought you would be embarrassed to lose composure like this in front of gojo, but you find yourself panting into the crook of his neck, raking nails down his flushed neck.

he's big, and you can feel every vein of his tapered curve hitting the right spots within you, as you shift your hips, desperate to let his sinuous cock kiss every inch of your pussy lovingly.

"gon' dumb already?" gojo's huffing, but you can see that he's not unaffected. his eyes are glazed over, hazy as he slowly draws his hips back just an inch, before scooting them forward already, "jus' gonna have to make this pussy learn from now on. don' worry, sweets. it'll fit."

the 'from now on' makes something in your pounding heart flutter.

but you have little time to focus on it as he bottoms out in your drenched cunt, as though you're hearing the slosh of your pussy coat him entirely, right up to the wiry, white hairs on his groin.

"hahh, there we go! the w-wonders of a positive attitude, don'tcha think?" and you're left with your eyes rolling to the back of your head, as he begins to pick up the pace. a steady staccato that has you jostling underneath his ministrations.

you let his mouth chase yours, capturing glossy lips with your own bite, letting him pant, and whine and praise the heavens above for how tight you're snatching him right now.

"she's p-perfect, isn't she? t-thought about it so much, y'got no idea, got no c-clue about how much i thought about you under me like this n' how you'd f-feel!"

gojo satoru is absolutely drunk from a nectar that he has tasted once. the same nectar that coats his cock in frothy, filthy rings as he pistons his hips out of your pussy.

"happy for y-you, satoru," and you're letting your nails scratch over the shell of his ear as he twitches and shudders, "but fuck, y'talk too much! jus' focus on fucking me!"

gojo's mouth quirks upwards, that knowing smirk playing on his lips as he looks at you bemused, and so hazy.

"god, a lot of that attitude now, hahh?" and he's drawling the words out, and you don't miss how he shudders when you clench around his shaft, on purpose. he's leaning in closer, barely brushing past your lips, and you wonder briefly for a split-second, gojo satoru might just really love you.

and then, without warning, his hand comes down to your side, just underneath the fat of your tits, pinching lightly at the abdomen. causing you to take a sharp intake of breath, and a dizzy huff of his name.

if you ever believed that gojo satoru was malicious in the workplace, a bane on your sanity, you had not been prepared for how he was stretching you out in all the right places.

that inhumane pace of the strongest had him snapping his hips sharply, over and over until he's hitting the spongy patch, deep within your walls.

"clamped around me like, ohh, like a fuckin' vice," gojo's grunting now, each breath coming out short puffs that match the timing of the slap! each whack of his cock delivers, pressing your hips together and coating his hips in sweet slick.

"mmph, feels so good, satoru!" you squeal, pressing a hand over your mouth so you don't wake up the entire top floor of the hotel, tits jostling with each shuffle and movement.

it's all coming down on you too quick, that electric haze shooting down your spine. made all the worse by gojo groaning and slipping his hand between his jackhammering hips, down to where your clit is practically throbbing for his touch.

he's running tight circles, before pressing the flat of his thumb under the hood of your clit, ripping a raw cry from the back of your throat, rolling your eyes to the back of your head as gojo's lips are leaving blooming marks over your neck.

"satoru, i t-think 'm gonna c-cum again," you moan, fluttering your lashes against your skin, rolling your hips up into gojo's quick fingers and brutal cock. but it feels different this time, nothing like your past two orgasms. you feel something draw its claws further into your groin, like you're going to burst and the breath will be stolen away from your lungs.

you hear gojo say something, snarky but tender as he laughs into your collarbone, as he's slapping his fingers down quickly over your clit, making you jolt. but you don't hear his words as blood roars in your eears, gushing all over his cock with a clear, sticky sheen that coats him deliciously.

makes gojo satoru groan out filthy praises over your marked skin, "didn' know you were that nasty? hahh, squirtin' over me on your first go, yeah? it's gettin' too much for me too, s-sweets. think 'm gonna hafta maaa -"

you have no inkling as to what gojo was aiming to groan out, fluttering his own blue eyes shut as his orgasm catches up to him, pumping you insanely full of thick, stringy seed. practically painting your inner walls a translucent white as you huff and whine.

but in the back of your mind, you think he wanted to marry you. a bridge you'll cross when you get to it.

"fillin' you up, good, aren't i?" and he's lost in a daze, and you watch as his muscles ripple in the light of the moon, pectorals gleaming as he stuffs you further, as if plugging his seed to stay in you, making you squirm from the delicious stimulation.

you should have paid a little more attention to your surroundings. less attention to the thick veins of his cock drilling a home in you. or less attention to how his lips curl up into a sweeter smile as he presses soft, happy kisses to your cheek while you lay exhausted, caged by his thick arms.

then, you might have noticed the lights flicker and then shatter for half the hotel's rooms.

the morning sun peeks through the curtains like an overenthusiastic alarm clock, dragging you out of sleep with its gentle warmth. you stretch lazily, limbs still heavy and sticky from the weight of...the previous night's activities.

the sheets feel ridiculous soft, kudos to the insanely over-priced hotel. and for a second, you entertain the thought of just staying here. forever.

that is, until your eyes fall on raijin's amulet over on the wooden table.

and the fact that gojo is nowhere to be found.

you blink, squinting at the empty space beside you. your first instinct is to check besides the bed, and then under it, for fear that the six-foot three man has simply fallen off.

but your gaze falls on a tiny pink sticky-note on the nightstand. one that you suspect was pilfered from the scattered case file on the couch. you peer at looping cursive, scrawled in a blue marker.

don't eat anything yet! gone to get a proper breakfast!

you can't help the soft huff that leaves you, fond in its escape. you feel this sudden urge to don some proper clothes, to go down and join him in the warm sunlight.

but then you pause. perhaps, you ought not to. it would be fun to let him miss you just a bit. the thought of the gojo satoru standing there, waiting in line for entirely average pancakes is amusement enough for you.

but before you can pull the crisp sheets over your head, your eyes catch a glimpse of something else by the bed. a small, satin-blue box that didn't exist yesterday, in the world of cruel choices and...semi-successful missions.

the memory of yesterday pulls a frown from you, but you shake your head, determined to clear your thoughts.

you reach for it, letting your fingers run over the smooth surface, before tugging at the silver ribbon cautiously. half-expecting to find something weird like gojo's usual idea of a joke like a half-naked framed photo of him with a lipstick print.

ah!

but instead, inside the box lies a thin necklace. you've stared longingly enough at shop windows to know that these are real diamonds. not the cheap kind either, a well-cut carat that makes you gasp to yourself, a flush running over your cheeks.

for a moment, he said nothing, and the silence stretched unbearably heavy. but then gojo’s ice-gaze dropped to the necklace scattered over your throat, and he tilted his head, "not too bad," a flicker of a scoff curling at his lips. "tch, they’re not even real," you blurted, then immediately regretted it, what was wrong with you today? you reached up, fingers grazing the cool crystals as if to shield them from his bemused scrutiny, "just thought i needed something to fit in."

you pick it up, feeling the cold weight of it in your hand. what is this, romance? a necklace? gojo satoru doesn’t even do romance. at least, not in the way anyone would expect.

he’s the kind of guy who would absolutely get you diamonds just to throw you off balance. mission accomplished.

you glance at the sticky note again, then back at the necklace. this is way too much for your sleep-addled brain. and yet, there’s this funny little thing inside you, a warm spark that you don’t know what to do with.

fuck, when did he even have the time to get this gorgeous gift?

you’re definitely not soft, but gojo does this thing to you — he has a way of turning your whole world upside down, and now…apparently, he’s gone and done it again.

your cheeks warm, but you don't admit to it. not yet. but there's no denying the softer spot that's growing in you, the urge to have gojo satoru in your arms in this very moment so you can run your hands through soft, white hair to watch him purr. to see his cheeks flush from a sweet blush as his blue eyes flutter shut.

your eyes fall on his crumpled uniform jacket from yesterday, his discarded clothes. perhaps, you could just join him. after all, you feel words threatening to spill from your mouth and you want him to hear them.

a surprise of your own? you think you want to see gojo satoru speechless for once.

do not plagiarise or repost! likes and reblogs appreciated. btw, this jenny packham was the dress i envisioned for reader but imagine whatever you like!

[rgwriteshockey]

hiii could i do prompt 14. with luke hughes?? love your work btw <3333

is that my shirt w/ luke hughes ->

summary: luke finds y/n in his shirt

word count: 1.07k

a/n: thank you so so much for requesting! hope you and everyone reading enjoys!

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y/n walked into the living room, stretching her arms above her head after a long day at work. the apartment was quiet, aside from the soft hum of the refrigerator in the corner and the faint sound of traffic outside. she kicked off her shoes, and without a second thought, grabbed the nearest oversized hoodie she could find to throw on. it was the comfiest thing she owned and made her feel at home instantly.

as she pulled it over her head, she noticed luke's hockey gear scattered across the floor — his skates, a couple of jerseys tossed carelessly onto the couch, and a tangle of socks. she made her way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, trying to avoid stepping on anything that could possibly be a sharp piece of his equipment.

that's when luke came out of the bedroom, fresh out of the shower, towel slung around his neck. his hair was still wet, droplets of water dripping down to his chest, making him look like he'd just walked out of a movie scene. he stopped in his tracks when he saw her.

"hey, what's up?" y/n asked, turning toward him with the glass in her hand.

"nothing much," luke said, his eyes scanning her from head to toe. "just got back from practice. how was your day?"

"same old, same old," she shrugged, taking a sip of water.

then his eyes narrowed, and his gaze dropped lower. "wait a second..." he said, pointing at her with a grin spreading across his face. "is that my shirt?"

y/n froze, looking down at the oversized hoodie that engulfed her body. her heart sank a little as she glanced at him, playing it cool. "what, this?" she said innocently. "nah, it's just a random hoodie. found it in the laundry. comfy, right?"

luke took a few steps toward her, raising an eyebrow. "really? because last time i checked, i’m the only one who has a hoodie that big. and this one’s got my number on the back. number 6, in case you forgot."

she couldn’t help but smirk at the playful challenge in his voice. "oh," she said, "you mean our shirt?"

luke snorted at her response. "our shirt? that’s a bold claim. you’ve been stealing my stuff for months now. i think i should get something in return. like, maybe some dinner?" he said with a mischievous grin.

y/n rolled her eyes, setting her glass on the counter. "first of all, i don’t steal your stuff. i just borrow it. there’s a difference."

"oh, i see," luke said, tilting his head. "so, this isn’t stealing? because that looks like my hoodie to me."

"you gave it to me," she said, crossing her arms in mock defensiveness. "remember? a couple of months ago when you bought like five of the same one. you said, and i quote, 'y/n, you’re gonna need one for yourself, too. we’re gonna match.'"

luke blinked at her for a second, then his face softened with the memory. "right. i do remember that. i guess you’re right, it is our shirt, then," he admitted, walking toward her and wrapping an arm around her waist. "but still, i don’t think you need to wear it every day. i mean, come on, i need a little bit of my own space too, right?"

y/n laughed, leaning into him. "what, you're not happy i like wearing your clothes? thought it was cute when i wore your jersey to that game last week."

"it was cute," luke admitted with a smile. "but i’m starting to think you might be wearing it to get extra attention from me. maybe you're just trying to distract me so i don't notice how messy the apartment is."

"oh, please," y/n chuckled. "like you haven’t already noticed. you’ve been leaving your stuff around here for weeks now. it’s like you live in a sports store."

"hey, i need my things where i can see them," luke defended himself, his voice playful. "that’s the only way i’m gonna remember everything. otherwise, you know i’m gonna forget something important."

"i know," y/n smiled up at him, her eyes softening. "you’re hopeless. but i love you anyway."

"yeah?" luke raised an eyebrow again. "even after i leave my dirty socks everywhere?"

"especially then," she replied, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. "you're lucky you’re cute."

"lucky, huh?" luke chuckled. "i guess i'll take that as a compliment."

they stood there for a few moments, enjoying the quiet of their apartment and the simplicity of the moment. y/n pulled away from him gently, still with the oversized hoodie hanging off her shoulders. she was comfortable, more than comfortable, in his shirt, in his arms, in their life together.

"you know," she said after a beat, "i think you’re starting to get used to me taking your stuff. last week, you just shrugged when you saw me in one of your jerseys. you didn't even make a comment."

luke smirked. "i’m getting soft in my old age," he said. "besides, you wear it better than i do. i can’t complain when you look cute in my stuff."

"so now it’s a compliment?" she teased.

"definitely," he said with a wink. "i think i’ll get you more stuff soon, though. you’re starting to wear my wardrobe out faster than i can buy it."

"oh, please," y/n laughed, poking him in the side. "i’m not that bad."

"really?" luke raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "because i swear, i’ve seen you in all of my shirts in the past month. it's getting a little hard to tell them apart. you should start wearing your own stuff sometimes."

"my stuff is boring," y/n protested. "your stuff is so much better. i like it because it smells like you."

"that’s sweet," luke said, his expression softening. "but you know what? i’ll still buy you your own stuff if it means you’ll leave mine alone for a little while."

"oh, okay," y/n grinned, looking at him playfully. "but only if it’s our stuff."

"of course," he said, laughing. "you know i wouldn’t have it any other way."

as they stood there, together in the quiet apartment, y/n felt a sense of calm wash over her. sure, they bickered about the small things, like clothes and his messy habits, but those were the little things that made their relationship special. it wasn’t just about sharing a wardrobe or living together. it was about the moments that made them feel like home to each other.

"alright," y/n said, finally relenting. "you win. i’ll wear my own clothes more often. but i’m still wearing this shirt tonight."

"you do that," luke said, pulling her close once more. "i’ll just be over here, waiting for my dinner."

y/n grinned, leaning into his embrace. "deal."

they both stood there for a while, just enjoying the simplicity of being together. nothing big had to happen for them to feel like everything was right in the world. she was wearing his shirt — or their shirt, as she liked to call it — and that felt more than enough.

"you’re lucky you’re cute, Luke Hughes," y/n murmured into his chest.

"i know," he replied with a smirk, holding her a little tighter.

and in that moment, nothing else mattered.

[eightstarr]

what's mine — ellie williams.

summary: the day you left for this assignment, ellie remembers thinking it would be okay— or maybe it was you who said it, your hands over her tense shoulders, her fingers tugging at your shirt, “you’ll be okay.” she goes home and knows it to be true, like words from a god. she’ll be okay and you’ll be back. what’s left to do but count the hours?

warnings: descriptions of violence (not very detailed), suggestive content near the end!

notes: uhhh i love being dramatic and i think it shows here. all i think about is the action of coming home to someone who loves you and how it is as meaningful now as it was a thousand years ago and as it will be in a hundred years but whatever haha sorry about that guys. if you read this i love you btw

don't support zionist neil druckmann.

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・。.・゜✧・. ────

Being without Ellie is disorienting. The first week feels like walking alone in a dark room, feeling the walls for a light switch, running into sharp corners that stab your sides. You miss her like it's a sickness, less a longing and more a threat to whatever you’re made of.

There's a small community way outside of Jackson offering a trade. Maria makes it sound simple, like everything else. “They know us, it’ll be quick. You pick up the supplies, drop off our part of the deal, and come back.”

It takes 26 days. The exchange is simple but the journey less so, you and three others have to carry home the much needed medical supplies through herds of infected and a heavy storm that slows you down and cuts off your communication for three terrifying nights.

Ellie wanders the house and feels like a stranger, sickly, a sleepless corpse searching for living blood. The light coming through the windows feels too bright and her skin abnormally cold. She knows, or thinks, that if she’s not careful she could get lost in it— merge every wall together until there’s nothing left to see but a stark flatness, an unfamiliar box. The space is not huge. It's not a tall castle or a manor in the countryside or anything fitting to the theatricality of loneliness, but it’s your home. So much of you is in it. Ellie finds herself focusing on a different thing each passing day, clinging to them with a nauseating desperation, a hundred random pieces of you scattered like breadcrumbs to keep her sane. A book with a folded corner somewhere along the first half of the story, your favorite mug next to the sink, an old pair of jeans ripped at the knee on your side of the drawer. Too many things for you not to come back.

“Do you think I'm losing my mind?” she asks, a soft wrinkle between her furrowed brows, her eyes focused on a random spot ahead. “I mean, it’s been two weeks,” she’s trying to sound like it's not as bad as it looks, like she finds any of it funny or interesting instead of plainly horrifying. The sole of her shoes hits the floor in an anxious rhythm, mocking her— tap, tap, tap, tap. “Isn’t that fucked up?”

Dina curses at the lighter until it flickers back to life with a weak orange flame, holding it near the end of the half finished blunt. She inhales and passes it over, breathing out, “You’re not crazy.”

A pause. Ellie lets the comment comfort her for a single second before it flies right through her head, sounding more quiet than usual when she admits, “...I have this feeling like someone took something from me.”

Dina raises her eyebrows, her chuckle cut off by a short cough, smoke itching her throat. “You mean, like… what’s her name?” she squints her eyes and tries to remember. 

The name worms around Ellie’s head like it has been for days, bold letters, clear as day. She makes no attempt to let it pass through her lips, self aware and unrelenting at the same time, maybe finding some indefensible satisfaction in the fact that it can be forgotten. Cruel, you'd tease, and Ellie would smirk a lot like she tries not to now.

Dina gives up a second later, “Whatever— the girl that volunteered to go with them before you could. You're blaming her?”

“I guess.”

“Hm. That’s a little…”

“Don’t say crazy—”

“Crazy.”

“Fuck you,” she rolls her eyes. “It’s not like that.”

“So you’re not jealous?”

Ellie scoffs, tongue pressed against the inside of her cheek. Dina argues unlike anyone else. She’s confident, her goal clear and her strategy already lined up before you get a word in, loaded like a gun. But her strongest contender, perhaps the only one, might be Ellie’s simple stubbornness. “I’m concerned. She got picked over me even though I've studied that route a hundred fucking times. I could've done a better job,” she says, steady and tireless like bulletproof glass.

“At getting the supplies or at taking care of your girlfriend?”

“You’re starting to sound like Maria.”

Dina pauses for a short moment before she shrugs. “Maria makes good points.”

Ellie takes one last hit of the blunt and flicks it across the room to die out somewhere on the permanently damp floor. She tries to believe it. No one took you, she thinks, you left dutifully like anyone else in Jackson would've, like Ellie would've. It’s a dangerous trip but a job like any other, the same risk of deadly infection that comes with any of them. She should be used to it by now. Does it not also exist every other day of the year?

Still, she can't remember the last time she didn't see your face for this long. You’ve been dating for a little over three years, living together for half of that— it's a terrifyingly meaningful chunk of your young lives, months and months of seeing you everyday, of falling asleep with her face on the crook of your neck and waking up with your fingers pressing into her waist. You've built a world where things like this don’t happen, where all Ellie can think about as she leaves home is the way you hum in the mornings, soft and sleepy and so fucking cute, when you wake up to her back against your chest and her hair on your face. She thinks about her own laugh, how shy it sounds, how your lips press to her head before she turns around to claim a proper kiss.

But now you’re not here, and she’s too terrified to even utter the words out loud, and there's a hole in her chest where you should be that makes her feel insane everywhere she goes. It's an open wound leaving a hazardous trail of shame and memories, humming in her ears like a boiling kettle, who took what's mine?

Ellie has never considered herself to be the jealous type, but she never was the type to sleep with her back turned to someone this comfortably, either. It’s different with you. It's theatricality, it’s the coldness of that bed at night, it’s your legs tangled with hers like growing roots now disjointed. It’s a thing, breathing and alive, screaming at nothing— I miss you, I miss you, I miss you.

Is that girl you went with hanging from your every word in that way she always does? Is that a shameful thought to have? Ellie wipes it clean in a second and finds it immediately there again, at the front of her mind like a message on a cloudy mirror. She can't think about anything else. Is the storm keeping the two of you awake? Does a part of you find the girl brave for volunteering? Is she turning to look at you and asking, just loud enough, are you asleep? That fall earlier was rough, how are you feeling? Is she looking at your wounds like they matter more than doing a good job? Is your blood, warm and red and yours, on her hands now?

The last of the smoke spills past her lips in a sigh. Ellie pulls her knees closer to her chest and tugs at the loose thread on your ripped jeans.

─────✧･ﾟ: *✧･

There’s a comfortable weight that keeps you under, the loving press of her arm resting over your chest, her thumb brushing your chin. The sun feels warm where it’s draped across Ellie’s back, white tank top wrinkled slightly up her waist.

She watches you until you let out a little sigh, squint one eye open and then slowly the next, a smile stretching your lips as soon as your sight focuses on her. She looks beautiful. She looks just like she did before you left, your girl.

It’s weird— you’ve showered, scrubbed your hands clean and raw, changed clothes. And still you feel like you’ve brought in something dirty, like it’ll be stuck on you for a while, the grime, the guns, the storm. Your muddy shoes must still be sitting by the front door. Something in your head screams that you should get rid of them, burn them like an evidence of guilt. Do you look anything like you did before you left? You feel like a worn version of yourself, sticky and darkened. It’s a ridiculous worry to have, but the thought comes hand in hand with embarrassment and you can feel it crawling up your neck. You cover your face with your hands and groan tiredly, shy.

Ellie laughs, warm like musk, salve on a wound.

"Are you watching me sleep?" you mutter, voice ridden with exhaustion and joy all at once. The thing, love, obsession, both— breathes along with you. "Freak."

"Yeah, I was,” she shifts to sit on your lap, one knee on either side of you, spilling her confession easily. Ellie leans over to push your hands away from your face and press her lips to yours, passionate but short lived, still softly brushing against each other when she says, "I missed this face."

You chuckle, eyes tracing over her freckled cheeks, hands squeezing her thighs, feeling strangely like you’re being washed clean. “I missed you.”

Ellie closes her eyes and rests her forehead against yours, her fingers caressing your cheeks, looking at you again when her thumb brushes against the ridge of a scar. It’s a warped line that almost follows the shape of your cheekbone, from your hairline to somewhere near the corner of your lips. She'd seen it last night, nauseous with worry and relief to have you back, her vision clouded. The morning reveals it in a different, heartbreaking light. It’s okay, you’d said during the night, your hands on either side of her face much like hers are on you now, didn't even need stitches. Ellie tries to let that sink in, make the guilt feel any better. But it can't. Maybe you’d been saved the prick of a needle, but she knows it still hurt, she knows it bled and stung. It feels like a betrayal. If I can't save you the pain, she thinks, I owe you the witnessing, the chance to clean its wry edges, pat it dry. "How'd you get this one?" she asks, as softly as she can.

You’d been prepared for the question but not the devastation in her eyes. It falls over you like a ton of bricks, her love making your chest ache and sinking you back into the memory.

There was an empty house, or what looked like one. Pieces of broken glass scattered over the rotting wood of an old, wobbly table. A man's hand placed forcefully on your head. The side of your face rammed into the table with a thud when he pushed you down, the faint pain of something slicing into your cheek made worse by your struggle to get free. A kick and he stumbled back. A slice of your knife and he fell dead. You don't think the fact will do much to comfort Ellie. So, in hopes of sparing her, you hum and shake your head. "Come here," you say, or beg, a hand on the back of her neck like fond guidance. "Let me kiss your pretty face."

She feels soft like satin on your lips, tastes like honey and black tea. Ellie kisses like she argues, experienced and unruly all at once, with a point to make— I need you and I want you to know it. Her tongue slips past your parted lips and brings a muffled sound from your throat that almost makes her pull slightly away, if it weren't for the feeling of your fingers tightening on her neck to have her closer. A faint thought crosses Ellie’s mind, a feeling like pity for the person she was before you, whoever that was, an old self who couldn't know what it's like to be devoured so caringly.

She brushes her nose against yours and you let out a sigh that sounds painfully like a prayer, her short hair a dark veil over your eyes when she turns her head to press kisses on your cheek. "You can't leave me like that again," she breathes out.

You swallow her words, a confused wrinkle between your eyebrows. “Ellie—”

A kiss cuts you off. You slide your hands up her thighs to her waist, a surprised hum vibrating against her lips when she wraps her fingers around your wrists and squeezes, as if to keep them there. She leans back and stares into you, and for the first time since you’ve known Ellie, you can't tell if she's commanding you or begging. “I won’t let you.”

It’s a gesture. It goes beyond the reality of your lives, the fact that any day either one of you could be made to leave again, that any day either one of you could die. It means I missed you. It means I need it to be me who looks after you. It means I love you.

Your stomach flutters, hungry with an urgent craving. And like you have every day since you’ve known Ellie, you find yourself unable to deny her love or the indulging promise of a different world— but maybe those mean the same thing. "I'm not leaving you," you say, breathless, and it might as well be true.

Ellie makes a sound in response that feels painfully close to a moan, a soft mmhm that clouds your head of anything that may or may not exist outside of this room. The tip of her nose brushes against your neck and then continues its way down, her fingers sneaking inside your shirt, pulling up the fabric and pressing kisses over the skin that’s revealed. "I love you," she says, almost near the band of your underwear, her blushed lips parted. You feel her breath against the burning fire in your lower stomach, reaching out to cradle her cheek against your hand. She feels hot, flushed pink under her freckles, and you’re not sure if she hears you say I love you, Ellie as much as she watches you mouth the words. She presses her face further into your hand, wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue, begging as if she’d ever have to, “Baby, I need— please.”

You don't hear yourself say yes, but the look in her eyes says you must have.

[moonstruckme]

reader making a new friend (who is a male btw) and poly!marauders get jealous and snap at reader, for example saying, ‘go hang out with ____ ‘ and reader understands and reassures them that no such thing as reader leaving marauders would ever happen.

Thanks for requesting!

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 860 words

"There you are, angel!" James gushes as you walk in the door. "We've been waiting, where've you been?"

You stop short, caught offguard by the onslaught of attention as three pairs of eyes pin you in front of the door. Your boyfriends are all sitting at the table, untouched bowls of pasta in front of them and one by your empty chair.

"Sorry," you say slowly, easing your bag off your shoulder and taking off your shoes. "I didn't realize you were waiting. Liam wanted to show me some new music he's found, so I stayed late." You hustle to your chair, and James begins shoveling pasta into his mouth eagerly.

"Oh, Liam asked you to stay," Sirius says drily, stabbing at his bowl with a fork. "Awesome."

You frown. Liam started at your work a couple of months ago, and the two of you had hit it off immediately. He was funny, you liked a lot of the same things, and everyone who you'd introduced him to adored him. Everyone, except your boyfriends. "He didn't ask me to stay, I offered because I wanted to hear it. And I didn't ask you to wait up for me, either."

James swallows. "We tried to call you, and texted you a bunch," he says, and the quiet of his voice is so unlike him that your anxiety instantly heightens.

You whip out your phone, seeing missed calls and texts from each of the boys taking up the entire screen. You'd forgotten to turn the sound back on after your shift.

"I'm sorry," you say, putting it away, and you mean it, but none of the boys really seems to want to look at you.

And as quickly as your shame rose to the surface, indignation comes in to replace it. This is so unlike them. Sirius will occaisionally make a teasing comment about you leaving them for one of your celebrity crushes, but none of your boyfriends are truly the jealous type. You're in a polyamorous relationship, for Merlin's sake. This sort of possessiveness has never been part of the deal.

"What's your problem with him?" You stare them down in turn, and only Sirius is bold enough to meet your heated gaze.

"You're with him when you should be with us!" He snaps. "Just look at tonight—James made dinner, and where were you? With him! So why are you even here now? Let's just cut the bullshit, and you can go hang out with Liam."

James had...James never cooks. That always falls to you or Remus, but tonight...you look at the pasta, which you've yet to take a bite of, and you're hit with a guilt that feels like nausea. It's your favorite. James cooked it for you.

"You have been seeing a lot of him lately," Remus says quietly, and his tone is more controlled than Sirius', but you see the protective hand he sets on James' knee under the table. "And you talk about him all the time. Do you really not see why our minds would go there?"

"I didn't...you guys are serious about this?" Your voice wavers, and that gets them all to look at you. You see the truth of it in their faces, sullen and embarrassed and tense, as if apprehensive of what you'll do next. "I'm so sorry. I never meant to make you feel that way, I—fuck, Jamie, can I give you a hug?"

"Course," he says softly, and rush to him, pressing your face into his dark curls.

"Thank you for dinner, love," you say, feeling like your heart is breaking. "I didn't mean to be late, and I should have remembered to turn my phone back on, I'm so sorry. This is so lovely of you." You turn so you can see the other boys, still cradling James' head in one hand. "Liam and I are just friends, I promise. I didn't know...I thought it was just teasing, the way you talked about him. I didn't mean to let you worry. And I'm sorry if I've been blowing you off lately."

"It hasn't been that often, dove." Remus is the first to warm, looking at you kindly. "Just, could you let us know if you're going to be very late?"

You feel like your chest has hollowed out at the realization of how this has been weighing on them. "Yeah, of course." You release James to return to your seat, leaning over to press a kiss to Sirius' head as you pass him, and he rolls his eyes with a reluctance you suspect is mostly feigned by now. "You really think I could find someone better than you three? You're out of your minds," you quip, taking some pasta onto your fork and inhaling the aroma of the sauce appreciatively. You think you see James sit up a bit straighter with pride. "As if there's anyone who could give me more than what I already have. Honestly, I'm at full capacity, love-wise."

Sirius snorts, finally eating some of his own pasta. "I know. This apartment is hardly large enough for the four of us, where would Liam sleep?"

[bonkybuchananbarnes]

There She Goes (1)

Next Chapter

Bucky Barnes x AFAB!Reader

You're a bright superhero popstar, and he's a quiet, brooding ex-assassin who seeks redemption. The two of you are like sun and moon. When Bucky suddenly moves in with the Avengers, you stop at nothing, trying to become closer with him. What could possibly go wrong?

Au!Post Civil War where all the Avengers are alive. This story is a slow-burn romcom!

Title and story inspired by the song There She Goes by The La's

Series tags: sunshine x grumpy trope, strangers to friends to lovers, 2000s romcom vibes, crackfic, reader is a bold outgoing flirt and Bucky is a self reserved shy?man, fluff & crack fic, some angst, bucky is trying to heal and you try to help him, maybe future smut?

----------------------------------------------------------

chapter warnings: swearing. thats all!

A/N: suddenly im trusted back to my 2018 marvel phase with an unhealthy obsession with bucky barnes! i wanted to give bucky barnes a 2000s romcom trope and so here it is. hope yall like it! lmk what you guys think, this is like a pilot episode tbh.

btw, you guys have a nickname. i'll alternate between that and (Y/N).

Word count: 2k

'(Y/n), no.'

‘(Y/n), yes.’

‘(Y/n), you can’t just ditch your world tour just because Star Spangled Spandex and I are having a pissing contest!’ Tony yelled.

‘Come onnnnn Tony! I want in on this tea! And besides, what's got you and Cap’s panties in a twist?’ you questioned. 

The two of you were sitting in front of each other, with the Avengers common table between your bodies. On the far side of the room was Peter, sitting on the couch and drinking orange juice from a straw while he watched you and Tony argue. 

Spiderboy finished the drink a minute ago, but he was still sucking on the straw, which made an unbearably annoying noise. 

‘Can you fucking stop that!?’ you screeched as you hurled a ball of photokinesis towards him. Peter yelped as he rolled to his left and dodged your attack, which resulted in the incineration of the couch. 

‘You asshole! Are you trying to kill me!?’ he exclaimed, as he clutched onto his chest. 

‘Stop clutching your pearls Penis Parker.’ you snarked. 

Tony stared at you incredulously. ‘You are so getting me a new couch Sunshine.’

You hated it when he called you that. You had photokinetic power, which in Layman's terms was being able to manipulate light at will and shoot power blasts. But Tony always insisted on calling you Sunshine because you were literally a ball of light. 

‘As I was saying Tony, why are you and Cap fighting again?’ you questioned.

The man in front of you sighed. ‘He wants to bring Barnes into our Tower. And for obvious reasons I don't want him here.’

‘Tony you gotta stop restricting hot men from living here. I want my daily fix!’ you pouted. 

The older man scoffed. ‘And that's the other thing! Even though you're a superstar and an Avenger you act like you don't have paparazzi in your closet! Keep your shit together Sunshine, I don't want another PR incident!’

‘Listen! Thor is so kissable. It just so happened that he turned his head while I was trying to kiss his cheek. And it was also a coincidence that the paparazzi were also there. Don't you want to kiss him too?’ you argued. 

‘She's right you know, Thor is a very kissable guy.’ Peter muttered with his mouth full of popcorn as he watched the two of you like a tennis match.

Tony’s eyes zeroed in on the brunette boy. ‘You’re in hot water kid.’

‘I’ve been in hot water for the past month.’ Peter muttered. 

‘Anyways… I’m still staying to see this lovers quarrel between you two. It's like watching a divorce and it's sooooo juicy.’ you said with a toothy grin.

‘Listen Sunshine, this isn't worth missing your show on. Besides, why would you miss the chance to shake some ass with Megan Thee Stallion? I clearly remember you complaining to me how she was impossible to get a hold of for your tour.’ Tony pleaded. 

‘Hm.. how about we compromise? You come down to Texas with me tonight, and Cap too. I want to see you guys argue after my show.’ you proposed. 

‘Girl please, you think Sir Chasity can handle all of that seeing you and Meg shake some ass on stage? He's clearly a Victorian child and it's going to kill him.’ He scoffed. 

In the corner of your eye, you see Peter ferociously shake his head in agreement.

You rolled your eyes and got up. ‘Whatever. At least I tried. It's been so boring lately here at the Tower. Would it kill for a girl to find some juicy entertainment? It seems to only happen when I'm gone on tour.’ you mumbled. 

Peter got up and shuffled towards you and grinned at you with a mouthful of food. ‘Don’t worry (Y/N), if there's a earth shattering danger, we’ll give you a call.’ 

‘We? Kid we speaking French now?’ Tony exasperated towards the boy. 

‘Boringgggg. Just give me a call when you finally let Mr. Armed and Dangerous live here, and I might just move back here for good.’ you announced while you walked your way out,

‘Stop going after abnormally tall and muscular men Sunshine!’ Tony called out behind you.

‘In your dreams Stark!’ you hollered back.

Skipping a step as you strutted to the elevators, you smiled to yourself. Growing up, you were the complete opposite of who you are now. Orphaned and alone because you were a freak of nature, you turned to music and singing to soothe the pain in your heart. Music saved your life, and it raised you to fame. The Avengers side gig was only an accident; you were discovered by Tony when you shot one of his satellites down from space. But now, you were quite fond of the man you now considered to be your uncle, and the whole team. And you couldn’t ask for anything else.

Humming your way down as you patiently rose the elevator, your tune was cut short when you arrived at the ground floor. The elevator opened, and you came face to face with Sam Wilson.

‘Well look who it is! It’s the superstar Sunshine!’ He greeted you with a wide smile.

‘Sammy! I missed you cutie!’ you squealed as you engulfed him into a hug.

‘Woah! Didn’t know I was being missed baby! Hold on, aren’t you supposed to be in Texas right now?’ he questioned.

The two of you walked towards the lobby of the Avengers Tower and stood near the entrance. ‘Yeah, I was about to head out actually. Talked with Tony a bit since I heard what was going on with him and Cap.’

Sam scratched the back of his neck. ‘Yeah, it’s been rough. Steve’s visiting Bucky at his place right now, and I just left. Is Tony still against him moving in here and being a part of the team?’

‘To be honest Sammy? I think I made it worse.’ you laughed.

The Falcon left out an airless laugh. ‘Of course you did. Now, get out of here! Your fans are waiting for you.’ he said as he lightly shoved you towards the door.

‘Now hold on! Come with me!’ you invited him, grabbing his arm.

‘And why would I?’

‘I’m performing with Megan Thee Stallion tonight. I thought you would know since I'm performing in Texas tonight.’

Sam’s eyes opened a fraction of an inch before he yanked you out with him. ‘Well, what are we waiting for!?’ he excitedly said while you let out a hearty laugh.

—----------------

While you loved performing at concerts, you hated the extreme exhaustion that came with it after it was all done. 

You sprawled out on the back of the Quinjet, breathing deeply as you tried to cool down. Your belongings were scattered on the floor of the jet, and they gently swayed as Sam flew you back to the tower. 

‘Man oh man, that was an awesome show! And when you brought out Meg? I thought I was about to lose it when she gave me a shoutout.’ Sam sighed dreamily.

‘You’re welcome Sammy! Now, I think you owe me something in return.’ you declared softly. You didn’t have the energy anymore. Once you reached back to the Tower you were going to crash. 

‘And what would that be, Sunshine?’ he teased.

Before you could answer, your phone rang. It was Tony.

‘What’s up, Tony Stank?’

All you got back was a sigh.

‘So… you’re not going to ask about how my night was?’ you snarked.

‘I’m sure your night was one hundred percent better than mine. Listen Sunshine, you got what you wanted.’

‘Tony, oh my god. You did not.’ you said as you suddenly sprang up.

‘Wait what’s happening?’ Sam questioned as he looked back at you.

‘Eyes on the sky Birdy! I’m not trying to die tonight!’ you exclaimed at him.

‘Tony if you’re not lying, I could kiss you over the phone right now!’

A retching noise came out of your phone. ‘Save that for Manchurian Candidate, (Y/n). Just get here safely and you’ll see him.’ Then he hung up.

‘Sam if you don’t hurry up I will jump out of this jet and go back to the Tower myself. A new man has entered my roster!’ you declared.

‘You got it baby.’ Sam laughed as he accelerated the Quinjet to get the both of you home faster.

—----------

“Steve, I don’t think this is a good idea.” Bucky muttered softly as he looked around the empty common room. He nervously played with the string of his worn down backpack, which held his entire life.

“Buck, listen. You can’t just isolate everyone. You need this.” Steve gently reprimanded him.

The former Winter Soldier’s eyes warily scanned the area and sighed deeply. “Listen, Tony doesn’t even want me here.”

The Captain placed a firm hand on his best friend’s metal shoulder. “Hey, if T’challa was able to make it up with you, hell, the government pardoned you! I’m sure Tony will eventually come around too.’ he conveyed. 

‘Hey, you said a bad language word Cap.’ you called out.

The two super soldiers turned around to see you and Sam standing. 

Steve sighed. ‘Come on (Y/n). It’s been years.’

‘You already know I’m never going to let you live this down Stevie.’ you sassed back.

‘Stevie?’ Bucky questioned the nickname under his breath.

You cocked your head and smiled brightly when you set your eyes on the gorgeous brooding man. Hastily making your way in front of him, Bucky tensed up at your foregoing attitude as you stuck out your hand.

‘I believe this is the first time we ever met! My name is (Y/n) (L/n). It’s so nice to see a new face here everyday, I was starting to get bored of everyone here.’ you introduced yourself.

Bucky simply stared at you. He swore that you were slightly glowing, and not because you were so chirpy.

‘Aw, you don’t mean that Sunshine! You’re telling me that you’re bored of me?’ Sam playfully whined behind you.

You shot a playful glare at your friend.

‘Sunshine?’ Bucky questioned. ‘What’s with these awfully affectionate nicknames?’ he thought.

A tense smile broke out on your face as you turned around to face Bucky. ‘An unfortunate nickname that I’m stuck with due to my unique abilities. And no, I’m not showing it right now.’

Staring back at the man, you suddenly became very self aware. ‘He’s got the same gorgeous eyes as Thor’ you thought.

‘Also, that nickname is not the only thing you’ll be stuck with.’ Tony suddenly called out, breaking your train of thought.

Whipping your head to the open kitchen, Tony is standing with his arms folded. He shot you a deadly smile.

‘Alright, Stonks. I can smell your plan from here. What do you have to say to all of us here?’ you shot at him.

The suave man took striding steps towards you and the three men beside you. Stopping in front of you, he gripped both of your shoulders as he smirked at you. 

‘You got what you wanted Sunshine. Since you wanted Mr. Armed and Dangerous to say here so bad, he’s going to be yours and Steve’s responsibility!’ he declared.

‘What?’ Bucky blurted.

‘I beg your pardon?’ Steve exclaimed.

Sam stifled a laugh.

‘Oh god.’ you muttered as you brought your hands to your face. ‘This is going to ruin the tour.’

Tony let out a hearty chuckle, but was cut short when you gasped.

‘Wait! Oh my god are you serious Tony? I get to be with him? Like a lot?’ you asked excitedly.

Bucky, who was clearly bigger and stronger than you in any way, shape or form, stepped back from your sudden outburst. Sam eyed him weirdly.

‘Uh, yeah? Also, you’re awfully excited for someone who just said their tour was ruined.’ Tony nervously said.

Steve shot Tony a wary look. The man simply shrugged.

A small light started to flicker out of your head. Bucky’s eyes widened at the sight. You made your way towards the super soldier as you grabbed onto his flesh arms and gave a side hug.

The ex-assassin froze at the sudden physical contact as you started to flicker more out of excitement.

‘Oh we’re going to be such good friends!’ you squealed.

James Buchanan Barnes, a man who was once greatly feared, was now scared for his life. He gave Steve a deadly stare. His best friend simply shrugged and returned a smile.

Oh God, what did he get himself into?

[gyusvalentinesz]

OFFLINE

Hey everyone!! I spent almost the whole day yesterday writing this. Here is Chapter 2. (btw, most of this chapter is about Ume, not Gyutaro.) There is some dark themes in this story, but nothing sexual. ˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆ You skip, and skip, and skip, and skip. Everyone on this site is either weird, or creepy. That is until you find someone you thought was normal. ˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆ WORD COUNT: 3K!

!CHAPTER ONE!- Are You Still There?

It was a hot, humid summer night. It's the kind where your hair always feels greasy no matter how many times you wash it. You had just come back from another exhausting workshift dealing with rude, illiterate customers with IQs lower than a fifth graders. Your legs ache and you feel tired, but not tired enough to fall asleep.

It’s 9PM now, and the house is quiet. Your roommate Mitsuri is knocked out in the other room, probably dreaming about Obanai again. 

You don’t want to go on TikTok, and you definitely don’t feel like going on Twitter. If not those things, then maybe Omegle? What better to do than go on Omegle anyways, right? You figured if you could talk to people in real life, it’ll be a piece of cake doing it online.

You flop onto your bed, and open your laptop. The screen illuminates a blinding light onto your face and around your pitch black room. Your eyes feel like they have an eyelash in them.

“Jesus!” you mutter, holding one hand up to shield your eyes. “How come the light is always so damn bright when it’s dark?! Then it’s always so dark when I actually need the light!”

Your fingers fumble around the keyboard, struggling to find each letter. You eventually manage to type “Omegle” into the search and click on the first link, “OmeTV.”

You shift in your bed, and pull your blanket up to your lap as if you’re afraid the Omegle monsters are gonna come to devour your toes.

“Alright…” You take a deep breath, starting to regret the choice you just made. “Here goes nothing!”

You click the video call button.

The screen flashes white for a second before a bright, bold message pops up.

“TYPE ‘YES’ TO PLAY A GAME!”

You blink, confused. You mutter the word “Um…” before the person behind the screen decides you’re taking too long, and skips you. You didn’t even get a chance to decide!

“Okay, rude. I didn’t even wanna play your stupid game anyways. Fatty McPatty…”

☆

You continue to click next, next, and next. So far, all you’ve encountered is: creepy middle aged men in rooms with piss coloured lighting, teens vaping into their cameras with rap music in the back, more of those “Play a Game” pop ups, and black screens.

So far, it actually wasn’t that bad. Again, you keep skipping until a girl pops up on your screen.

A beautiful girl.

She looked… normal. Actually normal. She had pale skin, long white hair, and the most majestic blue eyes you’ve ever seen. She looks your age, maybe a little younger.

“Hi!” You squeal, flashing her a bright smile and a wave.

Stranger is typing: …

Stranger: Hii!

You lean in forward, intrigued by this girl. The room she’s in is dark, like yours. The only difference is that the room she’s in looks pretty vacant and non lived in. There’s two pillows on the floor and one crumpled up blanket bunched in the corner. It’s kind of creepy in a way, but maybe she’s going for that minimalist look?

Still, she’s so pretty, and she seems shy. Maybe a compliment would loosen her up a little.

“You look so pretty! Like a porcelain doll or something.” You say warmly, hoping you’d get her to talk.

She nods, smile widening slightly as she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear.

Stranger is typing: …

Stranger: thank u!! I get that a lot lol

Stranger: I like ur shirt btw

Stranger: I think I had the same thing before my mom threw it out!

You blink. What? Why’d her mom do that? Your eyes glance down at your frilly baby blue top, and nothing seems wrong with it. Maybe the straps are a little too thin, but not inappropriate. Maybe her mom is strict?

“Hey,” you lean in closer to the mic so she can hear you better. “Can you talk?”

That question makes the girl's expression falter. Her smile disappears, and she hesitantly shrugs.

Stranger is typing: …

Stranger: Ig I can talk

Stranger: but not for long

Stranger: or my mom will get mad at me

☆

The girl unmutes her mic. Her voice is quite soft, barely above a whisper. It almost sounds like she’s afraid someone might hear her.

“Hi,” she says. “What’s your name?”

You smile, trying to keep the friendliness up. “Y/N. What about you?”

She pauses, glancing over her shoulder like she’s checking if someone’s behind her,

“My name’s Daki… well, that’s what I like to go by,” she says, fidgeting slightly with the sleeve of her shirt. “My real name is Ume, but my mom doesn’t like me telling it to strangers.”

She shrugs, eyes lowering. “I don’t really get why it’s such a big deal.”

You nod slowly, and start wondering something. How old is this girl? She looks around your age, and you don’t mean to judge, but if she was actually as old as you, she shouldn’t have to be told by her mother to not reveal her real name to strangers on the internet.

Despite being a little weirded out by her demeanor and what she just told you, you stay kind. “That’s a nice name Ume! It’s unique. I’ve never heard it before.”

She smiles faintly at that. She hates her name, but what you said sounded genuine.

You hesitate for a moment before asking, “Hey, um… not to be weird or anything, but how old are you?”

There’s a pause. Ume shifts a little on the floor, eyes avoiding the camera.

“I’m… I’m thirteen,” she says eventually, voice softer than before. She looks at you with slight shame and embarrassment in her eyes, knowing already what you might be thinking.

“Omegle and makeup like that? You’ve gone bad at such an early age. Where’s your mom? Just wait until I tell her what you’re doing.” Is what she’s expecting you to say. But no.

You blink and try to process what she just said. Thirteen. Way too young to be here on this site alone.

You lean forward a little. “Isn’t this kinda… I dunno, a sketchy site to be on?”

She sighs, already expecting to be asked this. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” She murmurs. “But… My mom doesn’t really let me go outside. Or have friends. So sometimes when I’m bored, I just come on here to talk to people.”

“I’m not allowed to go to school, y’know?” Ume slips out suddenly.

You furrow your eyebrows together in concern. “Really?”

She nods, like it’s normal. Like it’s obvious.

“My mom says I’m too precious to go out into the ‘real world.’ I don’t really know what that means, but… I don’t care. I’m happy here. I have my brother, and I think my presence makes him happy too.”

You exhale, relieved that someone else is there with her. Her mom sounds… more than strict. Intense, maybe? But what if they can’t afford school or something. That’s understandable. The whole “not being allowed out of the house” thing though? That’s strange. Especially at her age.

“You have a brother?” You ask gently.

Ume’s face brightens immediately. Her eyes even sparkle a little.

“Yeah! I have a brother. He’s downstairs with my mom. His name is Gyutaro.”

“Ohh,” you nod. “That's nice. How old is he?”

“He’s eighteen!” She says, voice full of pride.

“Cool! Is he allowed to leave the house? Or does your mom keep him in too?”

Ume tilts her head, gazing up at the ceiling like she’s trying to remember something.

“He’s always allowed to leave,” she finally says. “My mom doesn’t really want him in the house. So he’s always outside. In the yard.”

You pause, an uneasy feeling starting to fill your body. The hairs on the back of your neck start to stick up. What?

“Wait, wait. You said he’s eighteen, right? Does he… go to school or anything?”

Ume shakes her head, almost cheerfully.

“Nope.”

“So… he doesn’t go to school, and your mom kicks him out of the house a lot?”

“Mmhmm!” She nods enthusiastically. Then she lowers her voice to a whisper. “Shh… I have a secret.”

She leans in close to the camera, placing a hand over the side of her mouth like she’s about to tell you how she clocked someone’s tea.

“When my mom leaves the house for work… I sneak my brother back inside,” she giggles, pulling back with a playful smile. “But only sometimes.”

Just as you open your mouth to speak again, her camera cuts out. Then she mutes her mic.

What just happened? It must be her mom.

Not wanting to get Ume in trouble, you follow her lead. You turn your camera and mic off, waiting silently in the dark for what might happen next.

One minute passes. Then two. Then three.

You start to wonder, is she okay? Right as you were about to unmute and ask if she's still there, she turns her camera back on.

She’s in a different room now. Much smaller than the one she was in before. Behind her, you can see clothes dangling on hangers and a few crumpled shirts on the floor. There’s no lighting at all, except for the screen. She's definitely in a closet.

“Hey,” you whisper, keeping your voice low so as to not get her in trouble. “Are you okay?”

Ume unmutes, gives a soft “yes,” and a quick thumbs up.

“What happened?”

“Oh…” She glances away. “Nothing. My mom just came in, not a big deal. She doesn’t want me talking to strangers using her laptop, so… I’m hiding.”

You don’t really know what to say to that, so you don’t say anything at all. There’s a long, awkward silence before her voice softly fills the air.

“Do you know what a slipknot is?”

You blink. “A slipknot? Like— the band, or… like, tying the knot?”

She pauses. “Um… tying the knot.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard of it,” you say cautiously. “Why?”

“Do you know how to tie one?”

You hesitate. “Uh… no, not really. I’ve never learned that.”

She really wanted to know, so when you say you don’t know how, she frowns a little. “Oh.”

You glance at your screen. Her face looks blank, and it’s clear to tell that she’s fidgeting with her fingers.

“Why’d you want to know?” You ask gently.

“Because…”

“Because what?”

“I don’t really know,” she murmures, eyes dropping to her lap. Her voice is barely audible now, so it’s hard to make out what she’s saying. “It’s just that… my brother wanted to know how to tie one.”

That makes you sit up straighter.

Why?

“He—he wanted to know how to tie a slipknot?” Your voice is quiet but strained.

“Yup!” She says cheerfully, like it’s nothing.

“…Did he tell you why?” You ask. Your voice wavers slightly as you think of all the possibilities. Maybe this boy just wants to know how to make a bracelet for his sister. Then again, from what you’ve heard, it seems like his mom is treating him pretty shitty. So maybe…

“Yeah!” Ume interrupts your spiralling thoughts. “He said it was for a craft.” She smiles faintly. “He said it makes things fly.”

You don’t even know what to say to that. Makes things fly? Your stomach twists. You’re still trying to find the right words, when you hear something faint in the background coming from Ume’s camera.

It was muffled, but it sounded like two people fighting. A woman and a man. The yelling gets louder, and someone is clearly upset. You can’t make out the words, but the tone of the man’s voice is clear enough. He sounds angry and heated.

You’re not the only one who noticed, because Ume did too. She suddenly speaks up, a little too loudly.

“Anyway, do you know what a Stanley cup is? My dad left one here a long time ago before he left. It’s like— rusting on the inside and it’s the hugest cup I’ve ever seen. Do you have one?”

She’s trying to talk over the fighting.

You can see it in her face. She’s trying to act normal. Her voice keeps rising to cover the sound, but her eyes keep flickering towards the closet door. The yelling keeps going, and something suddenly-

SLAM!

Ume flinches and rolls her eyes, because this isn’t new for her. Just like that, she mutes her mic and turns her camera off. Again.

You completely freeze. The silence on your end is so loud. Did her mom catch her? Is her internet just really bad?

Your heart is pounding harder than it should be. You’re not really involved, and this truly isn’t your problem, but this feels very wrong.

You lean forward in your chair, whispering to the camera. “Ume?”

Nothing.

You’re trying to tell yourself that it’s fine. Maybe she just needed to hide.

You lift your hands up to your head in disbelief. “Oh my god. Oh my god.” You mutter as you look up to the ceiling, both hands covering your mouth.

“This is not okay!” You shout, not caring about waking Mitsuri up now. Your voice cuts through the silence in your dark room, shaky and scared.

“What the hell?! Ume? Hello!?”

You slam both your hands onto your mattress, frustrated and worried.

One minute. Two minutes. Three minutes. Four. How much more?

Just as you’re thinking about letting this whole thing go and disconnecting, the screen flickers. Just for a second. Then it flickers again.

Suddenly, her camera and her mic come back on. Her laptop is still in the closet, but the camera is facing outwards on the floor. The door to the closet is now opened, revealing the bare room she was in earlier.

You squint your eyes, trying to find Ume. It’s hard to see that she’s standing right there in front of the doorway because the quality of this thing is diabolical.

“Ume?” You speak softly, “Are you okay?”

Ume glances at the laptop, but she doesn’t answer you. She's just standing there and staring at something offscreen. Her mouth moves a little like she’s trying to say something, but no words come out.

Then, there’s a sound. Heavy, quick, footsteps paired with the yelling from earlier.

Suddenly, a figure rushes into frame. It’s tall, and their movements are frantic. It’s a damn boy! He looks around seventeen or eighteen, and he has long messy hair and the most haunted look on his face.

He slams the door behind him and twists the door with shaking hands.

BANG!

BANG! BANG! BANG!

A fist slams the other side of the door.

“OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR RIGHT NOW, YOU LITTLE BITCH!”

A woman’s voice, wild and raspy, is so loud that the mic finds it difficult to pick up properly, making her sound like a damn kazoo. She’s screaming. Something slams into the door again, much much harder.

Ume flinches and hides behind the boy, clutching the back of his shirt. “Dont let her in,” she whispers. “Dont let her in!— please!”

He instinctively puts an arm behind her to shield her for what might come next. He’s breathing hard, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“I’m not gonna let her in, Ume…” He grunts as he pushes his back against the door, ready for the next impact. 

Ume is in front of him now, hugging him. Her trembling fingers are clutching tightly onto his shirt.

BANG!

“I SAID OPEN IT!” Their mother shrieks from outside. “I SWEAR, IF—“

Another loud slam. The doorhandle starts to rattle aggressively, and the wood starts creaking.

The yelling from outside the door starts getting more violent and manic. You’re not one to flinch much at loud sounds, but god damn. This woman has pipes on her.

“GYUTARO!” She shrieks, “FUCK YOU! I WANNA SEE MY BABY!”

BANG. BANG. BANG.

You hear something else slam into the door. Maybe a fist? Or the leg of a chair? Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter. You feel so helpless. All you can do is watch in despair, tears welling up in your eyes for these poor children.

“UME! It’s me! It’s mommy!” The woman’s voice cracks, sounding raggedy and jagged like broken glass.

“Let me in! LET ME IN!”

Gyutaro ignores his moms demands through the door, and lets his eyes scan the room. His gaze falls upon the laptop on the floor. You.

Oh no. Is he gonna end it?

His expression shifts, because the moment he notices the open Omegle tab, his brows furrow deeply. He doesn’t say anything, but the flicker of disapproval in his eyes is enough to make your stomach twist.

You freeze.

You watch him tell Ume to keep the door barricaded with her body, and she notices why.

Gyutaro takes quick steps toward the laptop, looking over her shoulder for what feels like the whole time.

“Wait—Nii-Chan! please,” she says, reaching an arm out for him. “Don’t close it, she’s nice! She was just talking to me! Please, I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“You’re not supposed to be talking to people,” he says quietly. He’s not quite angry, but definitely not calm.

“Not when she’s home. You know how she gets, Ume.”

“I know! But—”

He interrupts her. “She could’ve heard you. Do you want her to break the door down?”

“Please, just one more second! She was gonna teach me something. She wasn’t mean!”

You can barely breathe as he reaches the laptop. His hand moves forward, but then he hesitates.

He looks into the camera, his tired eyes locking in with your now glassy and puffy ones.

It’s like he knows what you’re thinking. He knows you’re scared, and he knows what he’s about to do is wrong.

“Sorry,” he mutters, voice barely above a whisper.

“NO!—“ Ume cries, “DON’T! Please don’t!”

He sighs, ignoring her. He gently places his hand over the webcam, and closes the tab.

Before the screen goes to the loading screen, you can hear Ume’s desperate voice in the background saying, “Please don’t make her go…”

Then? Silence.

DISCONNECTED FROM CHAT.

[moviestarmartini]

ella es mi fiesta — jude bellingham x hispanic!reader.

la conocí una mañana para una fiesta de enero / nos ennoviamos en marzo / el compromiso iba enserio.

summary: while on vacation, a young man around your age approaches you at a new year's day brunch. you give him your socials, unaware how you were about to change each other's lives.

wc: 3.3k

warnings: love at first sight, young people in love!! no nsfw for this one, but i do have to warn some sentences in spanish but that's normal in my writing atp.

A/N: AAAA i'm so anxious to post this, i hope everyone enjoys it as much as i did writing it !! xx also idk how to write the summary for lengthy fics rip. this is going to be two parter btw !!

now playing. . . ella es mi fiesta by carlos vives

You remembered the day so vividly. 

Cold January morning. Seventeen year-old you spent the winter vacations in Germany with your family. Though most of your clothes were of neutral tones, your sweater and lipstick were a matching shade of cherry red. The New Year’s brunch party was in full swing, but all Jude could do was watch as you struggled a bit with the German when asking for the reservation you and your loved ones held. His face, and subsequently his whole being lit up when he noticed you’d soon occupy the booth next to the one he was sitting with his family. 

Jobe perked a brow up at his seemingly irrational reaction, turning to look the way his brother was. “Which one do you fancy?” He leaned in to whisper with such a childish manner, but at the end of the day, he was sixteen. Jude only sighed, replying in a low tone, “The one with the red sweater and lipstick.” He’d also come to notice the way your nose and cheeks almost matched that tone. Was it the cold or just makeup? He didn’t care, and his heart only melted further. He couldn’t hold it anymore, he had to talk to you. He felt you drew him in like a magnet. 

You spoke quietly with your family, noticing them hungover. The menu for the pre-paid brunch looked particularly appetizing, eyes carefully scanning each option with your brain sending signals to your stomach about the idea and taste of each one. 

“Hello, excuse me,” The voice made your eyes tear themselves away from the menu, thus stripping your mind from the fantasy of filling your stomach with food after hours awake without any. Your family was looking straight at you, and you tilted your face towards the man standing rather nervously in front of you. 

You were taken aback for a second, straightening up in your seat. This man was bold, you could tell just from the fact he approached you in front of your family. “Happy new year to you all.” He greeted the rest of the table politely, confirming once more chivalry wasn’t dead. Your family replied positively— due to the fact most were still drunk— before busying themselves. You knew very well they were eavesdropping, just doing so in a classy way. 

The young man, you could guess he was around your age, shifted from one leg to another. “I’m Jude.” He introduced himself, stretching out a hand. You were so used to the two kisses on the cheek, but you still stretched with proper grip followed by a similar introduction. 

“Uh, I know this might be weird but can you give me your Instagram? You’re… gorgeous.” He was forward, but there was still some reluctance in his tone. You let out a tiny gasp at his words and just nodded, taking the phone he handed out to you and typing the user. 

“Here you go. It was nice meeting you, Jude.” You smiled warmly, hanging back the phone. Jude thought he could’ve had a stroke right then and there, but he nodded and smiled back, “You too. Have a nice one. The food here is amazing.” 

You waved Jude goodbye as he departed with his family, and the gossip started as soon as they crossed the door on their way out. Your brother recognized him, your cousin thought he was a whore due to the amount of followers he amassed, and your grandma thought he was extremely handsome. But all their opinions fell on deaf ears, you accepted his request. For a second you thought he was going to leave it at that, but the texting started almost immediately. 

Jude had come to learn you were a year younger than him though you shared a birthday, that you were on vacation with your family around the area but soon were to return to Spain to celebrate día de reyes. He’d also come to learn he couldn’t tear himself away from his phone after you’d cheekily asked him for his number— you asked if he could fill out a form for school and sent in the empty contact information fields. Your wittiness grew to become one of his favorite things about you. 

The texts turned into calls that took entire nights, the calls turned into incessant FaceTimes, some for the silliest of things. During mid-March happened the first turning point in which your relationship blossomed. The first long weekend you got away from school Jude flew you in, eager to spend those three days by your side. He received you at the airport with a bouquet of tulips, the flowers you adored to keep around once they were in season. 

“You didn’t have to!” You whined, finally letting go of the constricting hug he was keeping you in. 

“Nonsense, it’s the least I could do for my best girl.” Jude kissed your cheek gleefully, taking your luggage in tow before heading to the vehicle. 

You greeted Denise rather shyly, but she was kind and welcoming, joking how she missed having a female companion to games. Growing up in a house with men, you were glad you had enough knowledge to comment on the match with her, sitting at the VIP area of the stadium. You didn’t want to be obvious by wearing his jersey, but wearing it on the trip back home would make your chest swell with pride. 

Borussia Dortmund had won the game spectacularly, and it was the first time you’d find yourself cheering for another team that wasn’t your Madrid. You expressed how proud you were of him during dinner with Jude, but you’d noticed he was a bit quieter than usual. Knowing him enough that something might be wrong you just pinned it to exhaustion. But the idea never left your head. 

“Ay no sé,” You looked back towards the door, afraid someone might come in and catch you actively gossiping with your best friend about Jude. “Maybe he’s getting cold feet now that I’m here, I told you; you were wrong.” 

You knew very well there were bets placed back at home if Jude was going to ask you this weekend to be officially his girlfriend. But he was suddenly so distant, giving lukewarm touches before retrieving to his room in the middle of a movie. You sat staring out the window in the dead of night, legs crossed and pulled towards your chest. Your best friend started berating you, giving out excuses to feed the false hope. 

You shushed her yapping by a weak knock in the door. Another one followed, this time with bravery included. “Te llamo ahora,” You hung up, taking slow steps towards the door. Jude stood on the other side in his pajamas, and the temperature in the room rose. He was seeing you in yours, even though you’d FaceTime at night a hundred times. “What are you doing here? You should be resting!” 

“I’m so sorry, I can’t wait anymore.” He breathed out. He was holding a gift bag in his hand. “May I come in?” You nodded, swallowing hard before closing the door behind him. 

“I was supposed to surprise you tomorrow with brunch, just like the day we met. The day I confirmed love at first sight is real because I experienced it with you the moment you walked into the restaurant.” Jude started, almost rambling. He was extremely nervous. 

You stood there, dumbfounded, listening to him go on. “But I can’t take this anymore. The nerves won’t let me sleep.” You cracked a smile, noticing the way his bottom lip puckered out slightly. 

“C’mere, Belli bear.” You stretched your arms out, pulling him into a hug. His taller frame draped over you in the darkness as he hid his face in your neck. You swore he could hear your heart pounding against your chest. 

“You’re the woman of my dreams, baby.” He muttered, his hot breath hitting your jaw. “Do me the honor of being your boyfriend.” His empty hand cupped your face once he pulled away, and the only thing you could do was nod, left speechless. 

The situation was something straight out of a fantasy, something you could only dream of. This man was a star, rapidly becoming one to watch when it came to European football. “What is it? You’ve never been this quiet before.” He teased, leaning in. His nose brushed against you, and you gave the confirmation by closing the space between you. 

Your knees felt weak, it was the sweetest kiss you’ve ever shared with anyone. From the moment he had the bravery to approach you in that packed restaurant, you knew Jude was special. If it was any other guy, you wouldn’t have accepted doing long distance in the first place. 

“I got you something.” He whispered against your lips once you’d pull away from the kiss. He removed his hand from your face, to reach into the bag. A jewelry box and a card. You inhaled at the jewelry box that creaked open, your eyes landing on the gold chain. “Read the card first.” 

Song lyrics. ‘ I want to wear his initial on a chain ‘round my neck, chain ‘round my neck. Not because he owns me. Because he really knows me.’ Your eyes trailed back to the piece to notice a heart pendant with a J engraved on it. He watched you quietly, eyes dissecting your face for a reaction. 

“You’re kidding.” You covered your mouth to let out a muffled squeal, throwing yourself in his arms. Jude had to stifle a laugh to avoid waking up his family, holding you close. He inhaled your scent in, and thought he was done for. “I love it, Jude. Thank you so much. Now you didn’t have to!” You let out a teary smile. The sweet tears rolled down your cheeks and straight into his gentle thumbs as he cleaned your face. 

You carefully closed the box and placed it inside the bag, placing it at the nightstand. Jude watched your movements with a puzzled look before you tugged him down for another kiss. He let out a muffled noise of surprise, but held you against his arms while your own tangled around his neck. Your bodies stumbled around the room like two drunken fellas before landing on the bed. 

You yelped, accidentally biting his bottom lip. He sucked a breath in, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the tiny accident, face hidden in his chest to avoid waking anyone up. “I think we should call it a night… boyfriend.” 

Jude was bound to protest, but a yawn interrupted his claim. The exhaustion slapped him across the face all of a sudden. “Fine… girlfriend. Just one more kiss.” He complained, leaning to take your lips in his. It was short, since he then focused on peppering kisses all over your face. You giggled, and Jude’s stomach bubbled with euphoria from hearing your laugh. 

“Go! Your mum will kill you!” You struggled as you tried to shove him off, and he kissed your forehead before retreating back to his bedroom. 

You laid there, speechless. Your face plastered the huge bright smile, and you couldn’t help but reach for a pillow and cover your face as you let out a loud squeal. 

The past year you’ve spent in a haze. And it was a good one. You finished school with exemplary results, Jude surprised you both at the graduation ceremony and on your birthday. But you had also spent the past year selling Jude the idea of moving to Madrid, your home city, and playing for the team of your dreams and hopes. He laughed off your insistence, but still listened to your rambles about the club’s rich history. 

You could remember vividly how he woke you up one morning, insisting it was urgent. “My agent got a call.” He started. He sounded breathless. 

“¡Buen día para usted también! Let me guess,” You rolled over to lay on your stomach. “Man City? Chelsea?” You scratched your stomach, staring at the ceiling, neither option interested you. It was barely seven AM on an early May morning, a Saturday to be exact. 

“No.” You sat up at the gravity of his voice. “Real Madrid.” 

You gasped, and Jude had to tear the phone away from his ear as you screamed and shouted. He waited for your outburst to end, smiling nervously at his teammates who passed by and heard the noises. He recognized the bed creaking a little too well.

“Okay I’m so sorry,” You exhaled, laying down on the bed. Your dog had started barking at your door. “Tell me all about it. I won’t give you my opinion since you know I’m biased.” You laughed breathlessly, kicking your feet back and forth.  

Jude smiled. Even when you were far away and busy juggling university applications and a job, you were present for everything. Having your hardcore madridista family cheering for him during each game. Same thing happened the other way around; even when his career was at an all time high, he was there to listen to anything you told him. His family regularly asked about your wellbeing, and when you were going to visit. But most importantly, you were there for him unconditionally through the lows. For the last game Borussia Dortmund had lost the league. To comfort him in your chest as he cried his frustrations out, having helplessly sat on the bench due to injury. 

Knowing he had to say goodbye to the club he’d grown up into the man he was without the title he realistically dreamt grasping. 

But suddenly the end of May edged in, it was hands on to help with the move to Madrid. You had to hide the fact you were elated for the lack of distance between your residences— he was just a few minutes away by car. Still, Jude was acting a little weird. Denise was tense, sure, but he wouldn’t let you help pack his things up from his room. You blamed it all on the move, but the anxiousness and need to know only grew when June edged closer and your family was acting strange too. 

Your mother talked to you a little too much for your liking, rambling on and on, while your father couldn’t help but stare at you with a certain nostalgia in his eyes. Yet again, without finding any plausible explanations to anything at all, you blamed it on your upcoming birthday. 

Or dare one say birthdays. 

Jude insisted on a date night before heading to the shared birthday party your family was hosting. He’d even buy you the cutest white mini dress for the occasion. He was receiving a pep talk from Jobe once you got there, both his parents checking in if he was sure of the decision he was going to make. He swallowed hard when you called him, voice full of enthusiasm for the evening that awaited you. 

The way his face lit up, accompanied with a dashing smile, let his family know he was in his right mind and making all the right decisions. After his dad and brother gave him a tight hug wishing him luck, his mom gave him a kiss on the forehead and off he went to the car. 

“Happy birthday amor! You look amazing. Can you believe it always rains on our birthday?” You greeted him with a kiss. Jude kissed back, but didn’t respond verbally in the same enthusiastic tone you had.

You felt something was off, his music selection wasn’t the best and he was barely talking to you. Until he let out a sigh, “Pull over.” He demanded, not looking back at you. 

“What? Jude, what’s going on? Do you feel sick?” You took a turn into a street you knew would be empty, stopping the car and turning to face him. You cradled his face in your hands, checking for his temperature. Jude stared at the gold necklace, the engraved J you wore religiously giving him courage. 

“I’m sorry. I can’t wait anymore.” The words drowned your mind in the characteristic sensation of a deja vú, and you were back in Germany, staying in the guest room at his old apartment. That seemed light years away considering how much had happened in the past year. 

How much you’d grown by each other’s side. 

“I don’t think I’ll be able to get through dinner like this, the nerves are killing me.” Jude breathed out, and for the first time that night, he met your eyes. The song playing was soft, a shared favorite for lounging and doing nothing together. “When I told you you’re the reason I believe in love at first sight, I meant it. In the same way I know that even though we’re young, you’re the one for me. No one will ever measure up to the woman you are. Allow me to keep growing as a person and football player by your side.” 

Never in a million years you would’ve expected for him to pull out a small red box from his pocket. You instinctively covered your mouth at the diamond ring shining back at you. “Do me the honor, even if it’s ten years from now, of being your husband. Will you marry me?” 

Now it all made sense. 

The white mini dress he bought, the way everyone was acting for the past week or so. How Jude offhandedly mentioned he would never be able to top his birthday gift for that year. It clicked. 

But it didn’t even take you more than two seconds after you'd connected the dots to nod. The tears pricked your eyes, and once again you found yourself speechless. Jude’s eyes widened at your physical confirmation, but you noticed the fear in his eyes hadn’t dissipated. “Yes, Jude. I could’ve easily said yes a year ago, too.” You let out a teary chuckle as his chest deflated in relief. He slipped the ring on your finger before taking your face tenderly in his hands. 

He was crying. 

“You make me the happiest man on earth,” He exhaled before sharing a kiss. Slow, oozing with passion. Your tongues shyly tangled, exploring each other’s mouth. He wanted you to cross over and have you sit on his lap, but a call interrupted the moment. 

“You still want to have dinner… fiancé?” You asked, nose brushing against his. You saw as he beamed, and before he could capture his lips in yours, his stomach growled. 

The two of you howled with laughter, as you returned back to your seat and shifted the gear to start the journey to your reservation. You spent the evening going through your wedding Pinterest board, heart drumming against your chest at the prospect of having to use it sooner than you could’ve expected. 

You drove back to your home, getting greeted by your dogs at the door before the pseudo birthday-engagement party was in full swing. Your whole family made a surprise appearance, when you thought only those nearby were attending. Some of Jude’s teammates from both Dortmund and the English national team also surprised him, all of those you were acquainted with.  

It was bizarre combining a birthday party with your boyfriend already, but having your engagement mixed in was another level of crazy. But one look at Jude— seeing the way he brightened up at the sight of you— made you believe everything was going to be okay. 

The cake had a number 19 and a 20 candles on each side, each of you blowing your numbers before kissing. You shared the first piece for good luck, and it was the first moment of peace you’d gotten since you arrived. 

“We’re getting married in the winter.” You declared with a low voice. Jude perked a brow, questioning the decision. “You have the Euros during the summer. There’s also the Olympics. No one will be able to attend.” 

“Shit, babe,” Jude exhaled. “Six months to plan a wedding?”

Now that he said it out loud, it did sound batshit crazy. But wasn't the whole situation just that? After quickly sorting out your thoughts you still remained confident, feeding him a piece of the dessert. “It’ll be something small, intimate. Trust me on this one.”

Jude’s eyes softened as he shook his head, taking the spoon for you to scoop a piece and feed it to you. “I’ll always trust you with everything and anything.”

[1000plants]

"Holidays" AU - Christmas

Bucky Barnes x reader (GN)

Summary: An accidental series centered around the various holidays with my beloved Bucky Barnes  

Warnings- Alcohol/drinking/intoxication, swearing, Soft!Bucky (a warning bc oh god I love him he's a cutie patootie), mentions/themes of self-doubt and self deprecation. 

Word count- 3.6 k (WAYYYY longer than I meant it to be, oops!)

Author's Note- Reading pt 1 is important (I recommend a reread)  :)

“GN” for this part is heavily masc leaning (all my gn is written from a male perspective, but there are more tones of “male” in this chapter imo) 

!!!Not proof read, if it’s shit just lmk!!!

Colored text are lyrics from different Christmas songs btw

Masterlist

Series Masterlist HERE

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Sleigh bells ring, are you listening?

You liked Christmas a lot more than Thanksgiving. Sitting on the couch of one of the many lounges in Stark towers, you had a cup of spiced apple cider in one hand and were reaching for a blanket with the other. Mid Friday afternoons were meant to be wasted on doing absolutely nothing… especially when you didn't have a single mission to prepare for.

In the lane, snow is glistening.

With a week until Christmas, Tony had made it his life's goal to make the tower wreak of the holidays. Every room had been decorated with some form of reds, greens, golds, or silvers. Some rooms got a more childish makeover, felt Santas and reindeers, with big faux snowflakes. And the kitchen was a simple winter wonderland, silvers and whites with twinkling fairy lights.

It was truly breathtaking. You’d give Tony that…

The lounge you were in right now was reminiscent of the classic holidays. A large, deep green pine tree stood tall in the corner, adorned with dark red ornaments and cranberry/popcorn garland. The electric fireplace was crackling softly as the TV played the holiday songs you queued up.

You were curled up on the couch, a fluffy blanket draped around your form as you sipped the hot cider. It was a moment of peacefulness that you rarely got to feel anymore. Though, in just a few hours you'd need to go get ready.

A beautiful sight, we're happy tonight,

Of course, no holiday would be complete without a famous Tony Stark party. This was the only one you would have to drag yourself to this season. The big SHIELD party with all the agents, Tony's staff, and more figure heads than you could count. It was going to be 

Honestly, you liked the big parties. They were easy to fade into. Get a few drinks, talk to just enough people, and get lost in the vibes… So, you weren't exactly dreading it.

What you were dreading was leaving the room. Well, no, dreading wasn't the right word… Tony had hung up mistletoe on each entry way in the building, including bedrooms. 

It was at the Thanksgiving party that Bucky told you he liked mistletoe, you had assumed he was flirting with you, obviously. But once you actually saw mistletoe, you felt the nerves explode in your stomach. 

Did he even remember telling you that? Both of you had drunk a decent amount of alcohol. You wouldn't blame him if he had just said that to fill space, it would hurt but you wouldn't blame him.

Dreading wasn't the right word because though you skirted past the flora at inhumane speed, you had a hope lingering in your bones that he'd pop up. That Bucky would point it out and make the move…

But that wasn't his style, and you knew it. Bucky wouldn't wait for some stupid plant to dictate what he did and with whom, if he wanted to kiss you he would. He was bold, took what he wanted, confident and unapologetic. Everything that drew you towards him were the same things that confirmed your worst fears.

You swallowed another gulp of your drink, gripping the ceramic mug a little tighter. It echoed the burn in a similar way  to the alcohol at the Thanksgiving party, but didn't leave you feeling lightheaded. 

He doesn't want to kiss me, you mentally admitted.

Walking in a winter wonderland

˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧

If you could’ve gone in your pajamas, you would've. Dressing up to the nines was never your favorite, sure it was fun for a little, but once the sweat seeped into the fabric of your shirt you lost interest. 

I’ll have a blue Christmas without you,

Still, you knew once you just got there and found a few people to mingle with, you would be fine. You'd have fun! You’d sing and party! You’d drink a lot!! 

With a heavy heart, and one last longing glance back at your large bed with the welcoming blankets and book on the nightstand… you fixed the cuffs of your emerald green button up and exited to the hallway. 

The lights had all been dimmed, a reminder that you were the last person showing up for this thing. Did anyone notice you weren't there yet? The party really only started an hour ago… a quick peek at your smart watch told you no. No alerts, no texts, no missed calls… not even a Team message.

 I’ll be so blue just thinking about you,

“I didn't mean to be the last one,” You mumbled to yourself, pulling out your phone to check the time once more (and to verify you had absolutely no alerts). As you walked a little faster to the elevators, the silence in the tower was eerily welcoming. With the decorations about, you felt like the creature that stirred in all of the old Christmas tales. Walking purposefully to keep the noise to a minimum reminded you of all the times you’d sneak around on Christmas eve to see if you could catch Santa or something similar.

The main rooms aside from the bedroom hallways pulled you from the distant memories. Carpets that switched to off-white tiles made you subconsciously straighten your back and stand a smidge taller. 

Your shoes sounded loud on tile, forgoing the muted walking in favor of speed. By habit, you hug the edge of the frame as you step into the elevator, avoiding the mistletoe that hangs above it.

How many times had you passed that while with Bucky? They had all been hung up for weeks and surely the two of you had been under them together at some point? Oh, God… Bucky. He was definitely at the party. Not that you didn't want him to be there! But since you’d been in your head all day about him, he was becoming someone you didn't really want to see. 

 Decorations of red on a green christmas tree,

As the elevator rose, so did the tense knot in your stomach. Those same nerves that had you fiddling with your buttons and rings were now transforming into something arguably worse. Hunger.

Breathing out a tense breath, you allowed a smile to pull on your lips as you remembered Tony’s promise to the team- his bribe to Steve to let him even throw this thing- Food and drinks from Asguard. 

The food wasn't anything truly remarkable, it was like Midguard food but with more complex flavors. Things that lingered longer, tasted bolder, but all in all the same. What was remarkable was the drinks. That shit could get the super soldiers wasted, so it would most definitely spice up your night as well.

 Wont be the same, dear, if you’re not here with me,

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Oh yeah! You chuckled mentally, taking another hearty sip of your spiked cider, Asguardian alcohol is just what I needed…

The party was loud- very loud- you could hardly hear yourself breathing over the Christmas carols. Though, the carols were becoming more and more sparse as the night progressed. Interrupted with more club music and modern beats as the hoard of dancers decided they couldn't effectively boogie down to O Holy Night.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas,

Cowards, all of them, you thought to yourself as another remix of some pop song thumped from the speakers. You sighed and rolled your neck, working out the kinks as you tried to shift away from the bar. Your face was feeling warm and the liquid gold of alcohol in your hands wasn't going to get spilt just because of an intoxicated person.

You were on your 4th(?) drink? But this was the first one that was Asguardian. Honestly? You probably should've just been doing this all night! It hit your stomach lightly and was smooth going down, the type of alcohol that would definitely mess you up if you weren't careful… which was probably why they were only letting people only have one drink.

“Woah, ok, I think I’m getting deja vu,” A deep voice chuckles as a familiar man slides up next to you. You hadn't been avoiding him, honestly surprised you’d only seen him just now. His voice sounded wiggly as he placed a hand on your lower back. Mmm, you might be a bit more intoxicated than you thought you'd get… A spark of heat shot through your body at his touch, your spine stiffened as you tilted your head towards him.

Let your heart be light

Has he been looking for you? It might just be sudden wishful thinking, but you couldn't deny the giddiness that fluttered through your veins at the thought. Thanks to the only lighting being strobing red and green fairy lights you really couldn't clearly see his face, but his expressions were always something of an open book to you. Bucky initially held a carefree grin, but after just a few seconds of dizzying eye contact, he looked concerned.

When you didn't reply (instead just clumsily nudging his hand away from your body), he leaned a little closer to ask, “How many drinks have you had tonight?” The playful tone mostly dropped from his voice and replaced instantly with a deep seeded concern.

Dazzling. 

From now on, our troubles will be out of sight,

You noticed he had shifted his arm to be just enough between you and some person who was dancing quite wildly. You felt warm, perspiration on the nape of your neck and lower back. The dancing bodies and close confinements weren't helping at all.

“Uhm,” You mumbled as you looked towards the bar. Your brows pulled together as you tried to count the cups you had gone through. “Fffffour….” you slowly said, uncertainty laced in your voice. Your tongue blindly ran over your lower lip, like you were subconsciously trying to remember the taste of all the drinks you had previously consumed.

Though your tongue felt heavy, you'd argue you weren't drunk. Grinning as you looked down at your drink, you would definitely be drunk after this one. Almost instantly, you found yourself forgetting he was in front of you.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas,

“That… doesn't sound right,” Bucky muttered, a wary smile ghosting over his face. His voice cut through your haze, pulling your attention back to him. He gently reached out to tap the side of your cup, the iced brown liquid sloshing slightly, “I think you've had a bit much, hm?”

You wrinkled your nose and sniffed at his declaration, “Four isn't much,” you argued.

“And,” You  quickly add, leaning towards him as a smile pulls on your lips, “This is my first one with the good alcohol.”

You notice his lack of drink, and his demeanor is far more sober than you would've expected. In fact, you don't think he drank at all tonight. He mirrored your grin, sucking in air through his teeth as he nodded down to your cup once more.

“Mh, I don't think you need the good alcohol,” He gently teases, "You're plenty drunk as is.”

“Youre not drunk at all,” You counter, his presence was more sobering to you than water was. It was that same feeling of cold water that vividly lives in your mind ever since the Thanksgiving party. You knew why he made you feel sweaty yet freezing all at once, and you briefly wondered if he felt the same.

“Told you I'm not a day drinker,” He says with a sigh, shrugging casually. He gently grabbed your wrist, loose enough that you could pull away if you wanted. When he knew you weren't going to shove him off again, he guided you towards one of the bar stools. 

Make the yuletide gay,

You sat on the raised stool, just a hair taller than Bucky now if you sat up straight. The ache in your feet appeared as you finally took your weight off of them.

“... it's 11 pm,” you chuckle as you set your chin in your hand, propping yourself on the bar. Your other hand idly played with the lip of your cup.

Bucky drew you in, he always did. The thoughts of drowning out your feelings with drinks tonight flitted quickly away. It was easier tonight to silence all the noise in the room. The music, people, and noise was all just clutter in the way of Bucky.

“Yeah, on a FriDAY,” He replied quickly with a lighthearted eyeroll. Shaking his head with a faux disappointed expression.

You loudly snort and lightly shove his arm at his stupid pun. You don't think you’d ever heard him make a joke that wasn't dry humor or a cleverly worded insult. It was like a breath of fresh air, and you could tell that it was new for him too. Though, the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes was quickly brought back to concern and care. 

From now on our troubles will be miles away,

Your conversation for the next half hour was lighthearted; pointing out those who looked out of place as the night progressed, finding a team member who was getting a little too into the holiday spirit, and those who were very much not enjoying the spirit. Bucky slowly moved a bit closer to you as you talked, close enough that you wanted to believe he felt the same way.

Though the conversation was what you truly needed tonight, your drink hadn't gone untouched. Drinking it a little faster than the others that you had objectively nursed throughout the night. The alcohol definitely hit you harder, but you still felt as tipsy as when you started. By Bucky’s wry looks and the slow build in gentleness of his words, it was clear you were more wasted than you'd ever been around him before. 

Here we are, as in olden days,

Happy golden days of yore,

˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧

Though the years I’ve moved a lot,

“I thought you said Christmas was your favorite holiday?” You mumble to Bucky, sipping from the cup of water he had given you once he walked you back to the main kitchen.

It was dark in the kitchen, only the silver of the moon reflecting off the snow provided light in the room. The way it caught the silver tinsel that adorned the cabinets made it look like snow was falling inside as the specks of light reflected off of it and onto the walls. 

“It is,” he admits with a small nod. He had been leaning against the countertop with both forearms while he played with some of the fake snow fabric that sat under a tiny ceramic neighborhood, “Well, kind of…”

Different doors with different locks,

“Kind of?” you echo as you arch an inquisitive brow. You gulped down the last bit of water in your cup, holding it out to him to be refiled once more. You bite back a burp that rumbled up your throat, stomach agitated at the water as it mixed with the alcohol.

“Mostly a fan of the mistle toe,” he reminded you, glancing up at a sprig that hung above the door frame just a few feet away. He did not look at it long, the quiet hiss of the faucet running as he filled your cup once more. He slid it towards you, “Last one, I promise, then I'll let you sleep,” he murmured.

Your grumbles died on your tongue as you forced yourself to take another sip, "Didn't take you as a sap for that kind of tradition,” you honestly tell him. Just a few hours ago you would've scolded yourself for saying that without second thought- no - you wouldn't have even let the words leave your lips. 

“Wasn’t about tradition, I just never found a good time to kiss you,” he immediately replies. You paused, looking up at him and meeting his light blue eyes. If you were any more sober, you probably would've become instantly flustered. Perhaps laugh it off and deny it. 

But somehow Christmas always finds me,

But you weren't sober. And you were a little sick of waiting.

“You can kiss me now.” 

Your voice didn't sound like your own. Though you felt confident, feeling like you had nothing to lose, your voice was a timid whisper. Your tongue felt heavy again, and the turmoil in your stomach only grew as your mouth worked faster than your brain.

It’s been a while since I wished,

But Bucky only grinned. He shook his head ‘no’ as he sighed. He stood up and peaked at your cup of water, not much had really been drunk.

“I'm not going to kiss you when you're drunk,” He whispers, taking the cup from you and dumping it down the sink when he pieced together he'd already gotten you to drink all the water he could.

“I'm not drunk” you denied, letting him gently usher you towards your room. Though, your stumbling steps and spinning vision told you otherwise.

For roller blades and pixie sticks,

“You wont remember this in the morning," He teased. The hint of disappointment in his voice wasn't missed by you, “That is enough to tell me you're too drunk.”

Once you made it to your room in one piece, you leaned heavily against your door frame. The welcoming scent of pine and the warm reds of your bed sheets called to you. Only making the fog of sleepiness thicker.

“What if I do remember?” you whispered, face falling as you tilted your head to the side.

There wasn't mistletoe above your door. You noticed it almost immediately when decorations had been put up. Well, in all fairness, no one had it above their bedroom doors, but right now you were extremely disappointed.

“Then we'll find some mistletoe.”

But somehow, Christmas always finds me

˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧

Is it too late, too late? To let you know,

Your head only lightly ached the next morning. Pounding back another two cups of water the moment you woke up and mentally thanking Bucky for making you drink last night.

Right…

Last night…

Had… had he really said that? Or was your brain just that desperate for a sappy hallmark-esq Christmas moment?

Well, there was really only one thing you could do.

You did not spare yourself a second glance as you left your room, you already knew what you must've looked like. Hair sticking up in every direction, sleep still in your eyes, shirt crumpled from sleeping like a log.

I can pass it off as hungover, you tell yourself, hardly paying attention as you shuffle to the kitchen. It was early enough that the place was still quiet, a chill in the air from a cracked open window that made you shiver. Everyone else probably drank way more than you did, and they didn't have a super soldier mothering them to drink water directly afterwards.

I can’t quite escape,

Blinking and adjusting to the brightness of the kitchen, you scowled as another gust of wind blew through, Just be vague, but not too vague, you thought as you struggled to pull the window shut.

“Got it?” Bucky asked as he stood from the table, he was sitting close enough to the wall that you hadn't seen him there. His sudden appearance startled a response out of you, pulling your arms back to your body as you jumped slightly.

“I remember,” you quickly blurt out, arms falling to your sides.

You felt stupid as you just stood there, both of you looking at each other for a few silent moments.

How much I need you,

“You… remember last night?” Bucky asks, voice emphasising ‘night’ as he pushes away from the table and walks towards you carefully. 

The way he looked you over made panic settle back in your bones. He was just taking care of you, you were misremembering things, you were just drunk and now you're just desperate.

“Yeah, last night…” you dumbly agree. “Or, I at least hope I do” was silently said.

You’re walkin’ towards me now,

“How much water did I make you drink?” He asks, voice low. It was just so that he didn't wake up anyone else. He probably doesn't want to be too loud since everyone else is also hungover…

“Four. One for each drink I had,” I sound stupid, I probably look stupid too, “But I didn't finish the last one.”

Bucky nodded at you, the small smile that pulled on his lips made your mind go blank. God, you'd do anything to see him smile like that all the time.

“And?” He prompted. With each step closer he took towards you your heart hammered louder and louder. How did he look so put together in the mornings? Like he's been awake for hours… Gosh, he looks great all the time-

What am I gonna say? Push my pride aside,

“And… there's mistletoe,” you mumble, finding your voice with only minor struggle. You didn't have to look to your right to know there was a small sprig of the plant pinned to the covered support beam of the ceiling. You had memorized where all of them were, as to be always close to them but never directly under them.

“There’s mistletoe,” Bucky whispered. And in a moment his hand gently cupped the side of your face as he kissed you. His head tilted to the side as his lips were pressed firmly against yours. They were soft as he gently pulled your body closer to him, your own hand falling to his waist and the other grabbing his shoulder.

When I close my eyes, It’s just you and I,

You didn't know how long you were there with him, though you knew you kissed him back instantly. The other thing you definitely knew was that this moment, disorderly standing in the kitchen that was overly decked out in whites and silvers, you weren't going to be forgetting any time soon.

Hell, now Christmas is your favorite holiday.

Well, mostly the mistletoe.

Here under the mistletoe

[inactivewattpadauthor]

Yandere Shang Tsung x Reader: Wrapped Around You (Angst Lemon)

Warning⚠️: This oneshot contains a NON CON scene with a yandere. Angst.

First one in 4 years. Don't like that; don't read, don't comment, keep scrolling.

Or if you want to read for the plot without reading the lemon look for the ⚠️ start and end.

Bonus at the end btw ~~~~~~~~~~~~ The dining hall was so chilly to you. Especially because of the dress you were put in. Or it could be the anxiety.

Is that why the room seemed smaller to you? You could've sworn this place was large enough to hold events. Every room you were in just seems smaller.

You're scared.

"Y/n, darling. Why aren't you eating your meal? This is the finest steak you could find in Outworld." You can tell he's staring at you from across the table.

Your eyes were blanklessly focused on the fancy dinner plate before your eyes, but you weren't thinking about the food, no.

Really, the thought of any food right now made you the opposite of the corresponding feeling. Nauseous.

Though ever since you were seized by him and taken, and though you were barely fed at first, you never had the urge to eat.

The food would look appetizing if it was your last meal.

You picked your fork up just to somewhat appease him and poke your food. You could make out the perfectly cooked mashed potatoes, some fine bread rolls, and greens. The steak looked medium well and juicy, but you assume the cows, if Outworld even have those, were different from Earthrealm.

Picking the knife up, you sighed and went to give the steak a try. You felt his eyes boring into you, and you tried not to give it any thought.

Chewing, chewing, chewing, and chewing you go. Not because the steak, it was like you lost your ability to consume. The meat is delicious, otherwise. But you began poking at your food again.

"Not hungry?" He coos at you.

"Never am." You coldly applied, subconsciously ruining the perfectly scooped mash potatoes with your silverware.

Servants entered the hall with the alcohol bottle. The atmosphere felt less tight now that someone else was here. But who are you kidding? They're no heroes.

But the wine they pour into your glass would make them one in your book.

The second they stop pouring the rich liquid in your cup, you'd grab it. Eyes on you as you slowly tilted your head back to down the alcohol and get it in your system as soon as possible.

That glass was empty within ten seconds. Shang Tsung sets his glass down after a small sip and observes you with no certain expression.

"Another one, please." You set your glass down and looked at the masked servant. They were hesitant, but they listened.

Filling the glass full took too long for you. When it was close to being full, you snatched the cup away and repeated. You drank your second glass faster this time.

After it was stained pink and empty, you pushed it to the servant. Just as the servant was about to listen to the silent command-

"That's enough!" Shang Tsung hisses out at the servant and motions for them to begone out of sight.

After the giant doors closed, the hurtful silence was back. At least you felt bold enough to look into his eyes. You couldn't tell what he was thinking, nor would you have cared.

He was the one to break off the eye contact to take another small sip of his drink and set it aside. "I don't need you intoxicated tonight."

You weren't sure if that was him looking out for you.

Standing from his chair and neatly pushing it back in, he eyes you again. "Come." He motions his head for you to stand and follow him.

"Where?" You shivered.

"My chambers. So we can talk." He answered simply.

This man is so good at bullshitting.

"We're talking right now, are we not?" You spoke back.

"I reassure you. We're just talking. You have my word." He places a hand on his chest and dips his head. It makes him appear sincere.

Either way, you couldn't fight him. "Okay." You sniffled and got up.

The man offers his arm to you, and you take it as he leads you upstairs to his dorm. He was muttering things to you with his charming smile, but you couldn't pay attention.

And when you two enter, you look back at him and see he quietly closes the double doors and locks it with a key that he would then vanish in his hand.

Yet, nothing has crossed your mind.

"Sit." His hand gestures to the bed. Walking slowly, you sit at the very edge and only kept your head down. His feet taps on the floor as he would sit beside you and way too close.

A hand rested on your shoulder, and you froze, not wanting to shake anymore and show how scared you are.

"You're so beautiful." He whispers before leaning in.

"When do I return to my cell?" Your voice whispered shakily. You stopped him at least. For the moment.

"Oh, a cell doesn't suit you, Y/n." Shang brushes your hair out your face full of anxiety and fatigue. Again he leans to you and you flinched back.

"What do you want to talk about?!" Your panic was visible. And all he does it laugh.

"You already know I was dishonest."

You knew.

Uncomfortable, you got up and slowly walked to the door. You really didn't want to do it. You felt shitty the moment you were brought to the island.

He doesn't stop you. Only watches as you reach for the doorknob.

Attempting to open it, you realized it was locked. And it wasn't like the door in your home where you could turn the lock and leave your room. This one has a keyhole...

But he teleported that key to gods know where.

Hands rubbing your sides sensually, you feel him behind you. "Why don't you just come back to bed?" He murmurs in your ear.

...(⚠️ START)

You started to dissociate as you were laid carefully on your back. Shang props your legs up before looming over you to attack your neck with love kisses and nibbles.

A hand lifts your given dress and cups your swimsuit area, which makes you wince. The small sound seemed to encourage him.

Giving your neck another kiss, he lifts his head to look at you. You got to look back at him and feel the despair kicking in.

"Please." Your eyes were clouded.

Wiping the tear, he sighs softly. "Don't cry. I won't be rough with you. You can trust me on that."

And you didn't. You could pray he was, but it wouldn't change anything. You just wished you were home with your friends. You missed Liu.

Slipping down your panties from under your dress, he looks at your face before slowly easing a finger inside you to test the waters.

Your eyes shut, and you winced. Perfect.

He adds another digit in before repeatedly pulling and pushing them in the wet entrance, fingering you to get you ready.

Shang really is keeping to his word this time.

"You're such a good girl." He praises as you weren't fighting at all. You just kept a really tensed position, clenching around his fingers. Your breathing was unsteady from panic.

"Please!" You wheezed. This would be your last plea for him to release you. A snake wouldn't listen to a poor bunny crying to be freed as the reptile wraps tightly around it, squeezing the life out the helpless critter.

"Relax." The sorcerer coos, still trying to prep you. "You'll make it hurt if you're tensed like this."

Soon enough, he got you out of the dress he made you wear for him. He quietly observed how beautiful you are without covering. All while ignoring how frantic you were.

He would get undressed as well. He's a handsome man with hideous deeds.

You whined out more as he climbs over you. At first, he presses his forehead against yours and tries to shush you. He'd force you to cuddle up to him before he starts.

Was this what Sonya had to go through? No. Sonya is a stronger woman. And she got rescued sooner. Good for her that she doesn't have to face the same fate as you will.

The villain was back to kissing your neck again and nuzzling it, hands caressing you everywhere. You were involuntarily damp between your legs and when he feels it he chuckles.

He takes it as you're ready.

Feeling his tip right against you, he rests his forehead against yours. Gripping your chin, he forces his tongue in your mouth the same time you feel his cock slowly being pushed through your poor walls.

The kiss muffled your brief cries, and your nails were scratching his shoulders, eventually his back as you would hug around him for some sort of support.

He'd still hold up to his word.

His dick all the way inside you, he held still. He didn't start ramming you. He wasn't going to break you just like that and make you sob throughout the assault.

Why is he being nice this time? He's in a position to cause more pain to you but he doesn't.

Breaking the kiss, he examines your face. You had dried tears but your breathing was still labored, and you do your best to accommodate to the cock in your organs.

One experimental thrust was given. Seeing your face blushed in the reaction without much pain was all he needed to see.

"Mm.... fuck..." You moaned under your breath, and Shang Tsung hears it well.

"Is this to your liking?" He continues to gently hump you. You damn well weren't going to answer that question. You didn't need to either way. He can tell it felt good for you.

Again, he presses you back into the mattress and kisses you as he sets a good pace fucking you. His cock moving in and out your cunt as his tongue pets yours, dominating it like what he's doing right now.

It felt like this was going on for hours. Being the sensitive girl you are, you came multiple times. But it didn't stop until finally he puts his weight onto you and clamps down onto your neck.

At first you were startled until you felt spurts flowing inside you and to your precious womb.

...(⚠️ END)

The black haired man pulls out and lays beside you, catching his breath.

The shame washed over you as the heat died down. And you curled up on your side, facing away from him.

Dark eyes looking at your back he places a soft hand on you. "How was that, dear?"

He wasn't expecting a full breakdown from you like that. You just started to cry. "I just want to go back to my cell. Please!"

Caught off guard he sits up. "Was I too rough with you? Believe I was trying to make it enjoyable for you, I-"

Resting a hand on your lower half for reassurance was a mistake as you reacted terribly. 

 "Very well... Let's get you cleaned up. I will take you to the dungeon if that's really what you wish for." He listens.

*Bonus!*

"Is she alive, Lord Raiden?"

"She's in a deep slumber, Liu Kang. I see no wounds on her, but we should probably let her rest. Elder Gods know what she had to endure."

The familiar voices brought you out of the unconscious state. Grumbling, everything was so bright. You felt like you finally touched the grass and experience sunlight for the first time in forever.

"She is awake!"

𝘖𝘩𝘩, 𝘓𝘪𝘶! 𝘔𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥!

"Liu Kang? Lord Raiden?" You blinked.

"We're here, Y/n L/n." The Thunder God answers.

Liu helps you stand up and brushes the dirt off you. "We apologize for how long it took to come to your aid! Did he hurt you?"

"Who- Oh. No..." You didn't sound that reassuring. Liu known you for awhile.

"Are you sure? You can-"

"Just malnutrition." You cut him off. You didn't want to talk about it. Not now at least. But it was still pretty recent. The emotional wound was fresh and stung like hell.

Tears appeared in your eyes just thinking about it.

"Y/n?" Liu rubs your shoulder out of comfort. You hugged him. You needed it from your friend.

"What he'd do, Y/n?" Caring arms wrapped back around you, this time from a good man.

"Nothing. I really missed you." You partially lied.

[brightest-stars-if]

They dynamic of MLux with a sunshine FMc ?

And a shy one too ?

BTW I LOVE Your writing ♡ and I would also like to ask if you accept fan arts !

Trying to tread the line here between giving enough info and still leaving some stuff to discover in-game.

Lux goes into ultimate sunshine protector mode. He leans into the protective husband role once he's married to the MC and his wife-guy energy is unmatched. Much to the annoyance of most people around him.

Regardless of gender, Lux is in, an odd way, more bashful with a shy MC than a bold one, at least initially. With a shy female MC, m!Lux is sort of like "FUCK the man is supposed to make the first move, isn't he?" and then proceeds to trip over himself trying to do dumbass "manly" things to impress her. His game is in the negatives before he gets help lmao.

ALSO thank you so much for your kind words! I can't believe I forgot to include this part. I absolutely accept fanart and would be honored if anyone made it.

[prncssie]

Fwb!hobie getting a rise out of you because you’re jealous of him being with other girls but the one time you decide to get with another guy hobie gets in his feels, fucks you then confesses. 👀

Love your writing btw ☺️

thanks lovie! sorry it took me so long i got addicted to writing 3000+ words and just realized i don’t actually have to. request under the cut! minors mdni ; black afab reader

fwb!hobie who you’ve seen around a few times. he’s a friend of a friend and more often then not, ends up tagging along with your plans.

fwb!hobie who found you undeniably attractive the moment he first laid eyes on you. sweet girls like you aren’t typically his type but he couldn’t stay away. there’s something addicting, sugary like saccharine.

fwb!hobie who was elated to find you had an interest in him, as well. he wasn’t supposed to find out but he’s good at getting what he wants, information included.

fwb!hobie who enchanted his way into your bed. he made it very clear there were to be no strings attached and it would be a one time thing . . . it wasn’t.

fwb!hobie who couldn’t stay away after he had a taste. he just had to have more and he keeps coming back for more but always in the late hours of the night and he’s always gone before sunrise.

fwb!hobie who is enjoying this little relationship you both have. he can get balls deep in your cunt by night and walk past you by morning without saying a word. sometimes, when he’s feeling bold, he’ll lean down and mock your moans into your ear.

fwb!hobie who laugh when you whip your head around to glare at him and smack a hand into your chest, clearly embarrassed and looking around to see if anyone else heard.

fwb!hobie who still sees other girls, much to your dismay. really, you had no idea until you left your apartment and saw him walking out of the one across from you, just having pulled his shirt over his head. he shoots you a smile and continues on his way.

fwb!hobie who doesn’t know you’re very upset about this and cancelled all your plans for the day. he’s unaware that you holed yourself up in your room to call your best friend, rant, and come up with a solution to your heartbreak.

fwb!hobie who is surprised to see you at the same pub he’s at, considering the setting is not really your scene. he stands and begins to walk over to you. the closer he gets, the sooner he realizes that you’re talking to, no, flirting with the man next to you. he can see his hand settled on the bare skin of your thigh, thumb trailing back and forth.

fwb!hobie who is uncomfortable with the white hot rage that bubbles in his stomach but knows he has to do something to stop this.

“hey, treacle. what are you doin’ here?” his hand comes to rest on the small of your back when he’s finally close enough and stands beside you, hovers beside you.

fwb!hobie who has to fight off a frown when you try to dismiss him. he’s not moving, though. his presence urges the other guy off, sending some sort of message that you two have something going on.

fwb!hobie who gets even more upset when you stare at him as if he’s the problem and begin to tell him off.

fwb!hobie who quickly reads between the lines and figures out what this is really all about. he becomes oddly smug and crosses his arms, nodding along to every insult you call him.

fwb!hobie who later that night has your head pressed into the mattress while he delivers brutal back shot after back shot. he has his hand wrapped around your braids and uses it as leverage whenever he feels like pulling your hair.

fwb!hobie who is reveling in the fact that you’re sobbing and begging him not to stop, as if he ever would. he’s leaned down real close just to make sure you can hear him over yourself.

“who does this pussy belong to? who got you screamin’ like this?”

fwb!hobie who can feel himself getting closer and closer the more you cry, wail, and clench around his cock. he eventually pulls out and rolls you onto your back with a hasty pace.

fwb!hobie who is now giving you a perfect view of him jerking his dick over your form. he does his best to speak between whimpers and his other hand is pushing your leg onto your chest.

“y – you can’t see other p – people. you’re mine, i’m y – yours. it’s done.”

fwb!hobie who misses the smile that graces your face as he cums on your cunt. this was your plan all along and he just fell right in.

[art-of-a-ghostie]

After three centuries, I am here with art, specifically Ramsey's minions in Epithet Traded (AU where the trio swap roles)!!

Have some fun facts about them under the cut:

Tumult and Omen go by they/them, Omen, Chimera and Yellow by she/her, and Genie by he/him

Unlike Giovanni's Boys they made it in the cut and have been given a captain (Ramsey), the only exception is Yellow, who was instead "transferred" from Arnold and Bugsy' team to Ramsey's (they found her annoying and wanted to get a reason to have contact with Ramsey for his epithet so they killed two birds with a stone by literally abandoning her in the same way a birth parent abandon a baby, leaving her at the feet of Ramsey's team with a card taped on her forehead and the ran away)

The reason why they all have a nickname is not because they impressed their team but because Ramsey didn't want to risk outing them during missions and slapped the first things he thought while seeing them

Also, Ramsey at first didn't really care about them, or better saying, he didn't want to care about them, but they easily got inside his heart anyway. He almost feels bad to have given Yellow such a lame nickname.

They all have matching earrings <3. They are friends :]

They are all mundies except Genie, but Chimera and Omen THINK they MIGHT have one as well, but don't know the word

Genie has the epithet "Manufacturing". It's a mix between "soulmates", "augment", and "parapet". He can create anything at a cost; he must know what materials they are made of and what the procedures are behind the process of their creations. His stamina allows him to do that only three times, and this is why he was nicknamed "Genie" (that and his incredible resemblance to the one in the movie Aladdin)

Omen is like Milo Murphy in the sense that she is extremely unlucky, but has adapted so well that she is thriving. If it's a side effect of an epithet she doesn't know to have, a curse, or just herself, is something she has no clues about. Put her in the same room with Car Crash and you get a slapstick comedy a la Tom and Jerry.

Chimera is similar, but is more a "YAY ADVENTURE :D" and a bit of an adrenaline junkie instead of Omen who is more a "OkayThisIsHappening ApparentlyAndOnlyICanGetMyselfOutOfThisShit ":/" and mostly gets herself in trouble because she wants to.

The reason the rest thinks she is inscribed (she doesn't really think about it) is because she survived ridiculous things in her life, but on the other hand, this is Epithet Erased, and humans are just built differently

I imagine her coming from an eccentric hippie rich family for some reason. Their aesthetic might be the opposite of the Addams Family's, but they would be on the same wavelength.

Her hair is dyed btw. (The rest have natural hair)

Medium is sort of like Sylvie, likes to pretend they are intellectual and the voice of reaso,n but they are a dork like anyone else

They have a cat they called "Maximus Leopold The Third" they spoil it so much that when they talked about him to their crew for the first time, the crew was thinking that Medium was a teen parent

Tumult is actually the voice of reason, and sometimes the closest Ramsey has as a second in command/therapist, which makes Genie and Medium so pissed because they want to be Ramsey's second in command >:(

Yellow still hangs out with the rest of the Jennifers :] (mentioned in chapter 5 of Bold at the museum)

She also shares a one-sided rivalry with Flamethrower (yeah, he is still a Giovanni's boy) because she is in the basketball team and he is in the male cheerleading club and train in the same gym and she is like "Hey wanna jog with me? :]" and his hot headed ass just assumes this is a declaration of challenge, says yes, and gets even more pissed when she is just "Wow you are so fast :D" because he thinks she is mocking him. (This happens in the normal canon universe too btw).

They all have a music playlist where they put their favorite songs together, and it's a headache-inducing nightmare between ABBA, musicals, meme songs, pop songs, remixed classical music, Nightcore cores edit, and Vocaloids. Ramsey listens to it while he draws commissions.

[prettypup188]

ur other story was soooo cute!!! could u do Smth similar?? with johnny cade of as fem!readers boyfriend and she's getting ready for prom when johnny picks her up and sees her family at her house and stuff.. and also could u do the actual prom and the aftermath??

also again like ur other story could it be their first times?? also they are the same age ❤️

“Prom night”

(Johnny Cade x fem reader)

(Fluff! Light smut: hickies, making out, p in v (protection), praising, eating out, first time, slight cursing, Johnny is a sweetheart. They’re both 17 and Dallas being well Dallas. Now I don’t know much about prom (cause I’m going next year, I didn’t go this year but I think I have some experience to this :3) erm, that’s all? Enjoy!)

1.9k word count!!

-btw, tysmmm for this request and I’m honestly so so glad that you enjoy my stories ❤️ pls send more!-

Btw this is the song that I pair this story with:

Your pov:

I listened to the radio, sitting at my vanity putting on lipstick, today was prom and I was overjoyed and a little scared. Johnny was finally meeting my family, properly.

My door opened, my mom came in with hair pens in hand, “Let me do you hair.”, she said as she sat on the bed next to me putting my hair on an updo. When she finished she looked at me in the mirror with a knowing smile, “Look at my baby girl all grown up.”, I giggled spritzing perfume on, “Mom, don’t cry.”, I turned standing up with her as she placed her hands on my shoulders, “You look like such a doll, I can’t wait to meet this gentleman who’s taking you out.”, that’s when we heard a honk outside. I peered out to see a slick red convertible sitting out front I could see Dallas sitting in the driver seat and what I presumed as Johnny he got out wearing a mustard yellow suit (like the one in the pic) to match my dress.

I left my room practically running down the stairs just in time to see my dad open the door, and there he stood a nervous looking Johnny Cade with a bouquet of yellow and white daisy’s in hand and a nervous smile, “You must be my daughter’s date.”, my dad boomed stepping aside to let him in I made my way to the bottom step giving Johnny a reassuring smile he stretched out his hand giving me my flowers, “Oh, Johnny’s these are gorgeous.”, my mom took the bouquet quickly putting them in a vase. “It’s nice to meet you, Johnny you seem like such a sweet boy.”, my mom said with a sweet smile laying a hand on my dad’s shoulder as my dad held a large camera, “You two get closer.”, I moved next to Johnny feeling a hand on my waist(bold move Johnny boy🤭), “Say cheese.” I smiled happily looking at Johnny who was looking ahead with a more relaxed smile he was still a bit shaky but I could tell he was moe comfortable, my mom printed out the pictures as my dad checked his watch, “You two oughta go or you’ll be late.”, I nodded grabbing my coin purse and Johnny’s hand. We stepped out the front door to find Dallas smoking a cigarette leaned against the car he quickly took it out seeing our rushed faces, “You two ready?”, Johnny nodded, “Yeah.”, we got in the car and sped off I saw my parents now worried facing, I placed a hand on Johnny’s, “My parents loved you.”, he nodded smiling and kissing my cheek.

Dallas drove, “So, you two gonna need me to pick you up or do you want to car Johnny?”, “I’ll take the car,Dal.”, Johnny spoke up over the radio. When we finally made it the front doors were propped open and everyone was walking in, I could see a few of my friends looking concerned at the sight of Dallas. I got out walking over to them, “Hey, sorry I’m late.”

Johnny’s pov:

I got out pressing down on my tie neatly watching as y/n walk over to her friends, I turned back to Dallas who was now handing me the keys, “I’ll walk over to the Dx and catch a ride with soda have a good night, okay?”, I nodded he walked on my side pulling something out of his pocket, “Here, just in case ya need it.”, he handed me a condom, Johnny’s face turned red looking in shock, “I-i ain’t gonna need i-“, Dallas just closed his hand, “Just in case.”, they both looked over at you, “She’s a pretty girl and you’ve guys been together for a while so I think you should be prepared.”, Dallas smirked ruffling with Johnny’s hair.

He quickly fixed it, watching dallas walk away before seeing him whistle at a girl making her gasp and scoff which he belted in laughter.

Your pov:

I could feel a hand on the small of my back making me turn around to see Johnny looking at me through his bangs, “Ready to go in?”, I nodded grabbing his arm and clinging onto it to steady myself on the slick hallway floors, the gym was decorated in a bright vibrant colors all retro 50’s themed. I quickly made my way to the dessert table with Johnny still in hand, Johnny helped me pick out desserts we took a sit nearby the back, watching everyone dance and enjoy themselves.

“Thank you for coming to prom with me, y/n.”, I looked at Johnny who was eating a slice of chocolate cake, “who else would I go with, Johnny? You’re my boyfriend.”, you laid a kiss on his cheek snuggling closer to him that’s when I heard my favorite slow dance song start I quickly wiped my mouth grabbing Johnny’s hand, “C‘mon, we can’t miss this!”, we made it onto the dance floor surrounded by everyone else as Marvin Gaye (not the one that I linked,that’s for later) played in the background. Johnny’s hands placed on both my sides as we swayed back and forth which I slide gently onto my hips, “You look beautiful.”, he said lowly using one hand to grab mine and spin me around in a quick motion, “I’m so lucky to have a girl like you.”, I giggled laying my head on his chest as the song continued.

We sat in comfortable silence as the song played in the background feeling as if the world around us was gone and we were the only two there. The song came to an end and a more upbeat Elvis song played making the kids whoop and cheer, we quickly got off the dance floor before it got too rowdy. Johnny led me out of the crowd, “You wanna go on a drive?”, he asked once we made it into the hallway away from the commotion, “Sure, Johnny.”,

Johnny’s pov:

I drove into the night, the only sound was the local Tulsa radio station and the rumble of the car. “Where are we headed?”, “L-lovers creek, if that’s okay.”, I looked at y/n with unsure eyes who smiled sweetly laying a hand on my thigh. “That’s alright, as long as you get me home by 11 as my dad asked.”,I he nodded checking my watch, it was only 9:46p.m. I could feel my pocket burning, the condom in it made me feel nervous. I breathed deeply into the Cool night air as I rolled slowly into the tree covered cliff that over looked Tulsa.

Your pov: NSFW

I sat on Johnny’s lap as I leaned into his lips, kissing him softly as I could feel his hands cup my clothed tits. “Johnny.”, I breathed looking into his eyes running my hand through his hair, “Yes,d-doll?”(he heard Dallas say it once or twice), “Eat me out.”, that was all I needed to say and he was already lowering his head down.

Johnny pov:

I looked at her cloth panties, running a hand down her soft thighs kissing them gently. I looked up at her as she gave me a nod, I pulled them off looking at her glistening cunt I ran a finger at her entrance entering one finger slowing hearing her mewl softly as I latched my lips onto her clit(as Dallas says “always treat the clit first”), I quickened my pace hearing a loud moan rip through the air as her hand latched onto my hair tugging at it gently. I could feel my cock twitch against the leather seat I groaned go in faster motion, “Gonna come, Johnny!”, she yelped I quickly pulled out my fingers mounting my mouth onto her cunt rubbing my thumb on her clit looking up at her, she looked so pretty unfolding because of me, she came and I could feel her juices seep into my mouth I groaned softly going back to fingering her as I sat up looking into her eyes.

Your pov:

I looked at Johnny, his gaze dark and hungry I grabbed his jacket pulling him closer kissing him feeling his pace pick up, I rubbed my hand across his bulge as he groaned in my mouth, “You taste so good, baby.”, he said softly pulling out his fingers looking at me as he sat back, “Can we?”, he asked with those pleading eyes I nodded. I got onto his lap as he pulled out the condom, “You were prepared.”, I said with a confused look he quickly apologized explaining that Dallas gave it to him, I smiled kissing him, he put it on and I lowered myself onto him, “J-Johnny.”, I moaned hearing a deep sigh escape from his mouth, “Shit..” I started rocking my hips slowly as he held me in place his face was buried in my chest leaving kisses and hickies along my chest and collarbone (Thank god I brought a shawl). I picked up speed bouncing up and down as he looked at me, “Your so fucking pretty.”, he said with a bit of a whine as I steadied myself on his shoulders, my cheeks felt hot feeling his rough hands grip my nipples making me yelp, I could feel his hips rock against me hitting the right spot as I moaned, “Johnny I’m close!”, I moaned while he kept his pace, “I’m close too, just a bit longer, yeah?” He asked looking at me with a smile kissing me.

Johnny’s pov:

I could feel her wrapped around me as her tits bounced up and down, her mouth contouring into concentration as I fucked, one last tightening squeeze made her come and I quickly pulled her off finishing myself, “Fuck.” I breathed closing my eyes looking at her who was sitting next to me breathing heavy, “You okay,sweetheart?”, I asked quickly collecting myself and wrapping my arms around her.

Your pov:

y/n nodded looking at Johnny with glossy eyes, kissing him, a long passionate kiss. We quickly got dressed, it was already 10:25.m. And Johnny was a long way from the high school let along my house, I held Johnny’s hand tightly with a happy and satisfied smile as we raced back home, finally we made it. Johnny hopped out and opened the door for me, walking me to my door, “I enjoyed tonight, doll.”, he said with a big smile, I placed a hand on his chest kissing his cheek. “I did too, have a good night okay?”, he nodded, grabbing my hips and giving me one last kiss before skipping down the steps and getting into his car and driving off.

I walked into the front door quietly, my parents were in their room the tv playing quietly in the background, I crept upstairs and slipped into my room undressing and changing getting into bed. “I love you Johnny Cade.”, I said to myself softly as I thought about what had just transpired

Johnny’s pov:

I drove to the Curtis’s house where Dallas was to give back him Tim Shepard’s car. As, I walked in there was the whole gang talking, all eyes turned onto me with a smile, “So? Did ya use it, Johnny cake?”, Dallas asked clearly a bit drunk, I nodded shaking my head slightly making my bangs cover my eyes. The gang whooped and hollered in cheer as Dallas patted my back, “Johnny’s became a real man!”, I rolled my eyes sitting down accepting the beer that was offered to me, I love you, y/n I thought to myself relaxing into the couch.

(Hihi, I hope u enjoy this! This was really fun writing I didn’t wanna leave u hanging 🫶🏾, mwah)

[skythighs]

Calista's Dream: Hands around your Neck

It's so hard writing from Feyds POV that I worry about straying too far from his actual personality, and I don't want to ruin the vibe of the story, so I might not write from his view again. I don't own the art or visuals used. I'll link them at the end via Pinterest. This is not edited BTW so you might find some mistakes.

Warnings: sexual content and disturbing thoughts from feyd. 18+ only please

Word count:2.2k

Chapter 6

Feyd Rauth’s POV

My sweet little Duchess would adjust in time to her new home. She had no choice but to accept Giedi Prime and me as we are. I didn't want to fuck her in front of those sick old bastards, but when the Baron demands it as his heir I have to follow through. I’ve given her the day to rest and recover from the shock of it. She seemed so fragile after the ceremony and it didn’t sit well within me. I already wanted to gouge out twenty one pairs of eyes for daring to look at her. The mesh robe was the most coverage I could offer her. Knowing they heard her sweet little moans nearly made me snap. 

I did my best to be unbothered, because I know if he knows I feel anything for her he will continue to torment her. The ceremony was his form of retaliation for her words earlier that very day when I presented her to him for the first time. She was bold and didn’t show any fear even here on the home planet of her enemies. The way he spat the insult Princess Atreides at her made my blood boil but she fired back correcting him. She told him she was the Na Baroness Harkonnen now. She claimed to be mine right there in front of him and he couldn’t take it.

If it were up to him I would never have married her, but the Emperor demanded it. My uncle knows his place as much as I know mine. What the Emperor demands must be followed through on. With taking that into consideration there was no guarantee my uncle wouldn’t lock her away with the pleasure slaves. I had to be smart and calculated in my approach. I couldn’t show her too much favor or his jealousy will get the best of him.

I’ve been trying to keep her at arms length only allowing myself to stroke her hair after she has long been asleep in my bed. Nearly running away from her when she smells so tempting I feel my mouth pool with saliva. She only smells better now that I've been inside her. A coppery tang mixed in with her natural sweetness. The same copper smell as her blood. I would make her skin my home if I could. I would peel back the layers of her flesh and tissue and take up residence inside her. She would be me and I would be her and nothing would ever separate us. She would become my final resting place even in death.

I feel myself grow hard at the thought. Now that I’ve had all of her I can’t stop thinking about her. How she dared to ask for her own chambers, she was as bold as ever. There was one thing she didn’t understand, and that was that she belonged to me. Everything belonged to me. Her pain, her pleasure, every tear that fell from her eyes was mine to claim.

“Na Baron, your presence is required in the Barons chambers.”

At that my cock falls limply. I begin my trek on the familiar path. The double doors are slightly ajar and I hear Piter and the human blob speak in hushed tones. 

“Once she has given him a male child, you can dispose of her Baron.”

“She is merely a means to an end. She’s an insignificant pawn.”

I chose to interrupt them then, refusing to hear anymore of this garbage. I couldn’t afford to be implicated in a rushed assassination and if I hear anymore that’s exactly what will happen.

“Beautiful Feyd, thank you for arriving so quickly. Piter here wanted a word with you about your bride.”

Piter stepped forward slightly bowing and began speaking.

“It is imperative you breed the Atreides girl as quickly as possible. I have heard you’ve been spending most of your time with your darlings.”

I look between my uncle and his lackey. Annoyed with this conversation on the surface but deep down I was intrigued.

“I fucked her just last night. Uncle you were there.”

Vladimir chuckles heartily at that.

“My dear Feyd it may take more than once. In fact it could take several times. You heard Piter. You must breed her.”

“To what end?” I probe. 

My eyes are slit as I look between the two of them. They were obviously aware of something and they hadn’t shared it yet. 

“That's the reason she’s here, to provide a male heir for our house.” said Vladimir resolutely.

“Well if it is your wish uncle, consider it done.” 

He smiles broadly at me, so happy with my false platitudes.

“You seemed to enjoy her last night. I'm surprised you haven't had her again.” 

There was a glint behind his eyes as he spoke and I knew I had to tread carefully. 

“I must admit her Atreides cunt was warm and snug, but she is not equipped to handle my tastes.”

“You should train her then nephew. She is yours to do with as you please, but you must breed her.”

I nod my head, refusing to speak anymore, on the verge of lashing out.

“Go and insure our future Feyd.”

Interesting choice of words. He was hiding something as usual, but eventually he would share. I would make sure of it.

Later that evening I find myself lounging in the sitting area of our chambers waiting for Calista to exit the bathing chamber. I had one hand wrapped around my cock and the other gripping her discarded underclothes from today. I stroked my cock gripping it while I looked at the portrait across from me. Her untamed hair had teased me for so long I could not get enough of feeling the silken strands between my fingers now that she was more than just a vision before me.

The door creaked open and she stepped into the room without even noticing me in the dimly lit room. 

“Come here, wife.” I call lowly to her.

She tenses before turning to me. Her eyes looked wild like she couldn’t decide if she should run away or freeze. Her white nightgown was form fitting and plunged in the front. No doubt something she acquired while living here. 

“I said come here pet.”

Her umber eyes look to my lap and she gulps audibly before taking slow steps towards me. I toss away her undergarments and offer my hand to her. She accepts it and I pull her onto my lap so she can straddle me, my penis between us. I watch her closely trying to read her mood. Her pulse was fluttering so quickly in her delicate neck I wanted to sink my teeth into her there and drain her.

“Take off the dress.” I order firmly not breaking eye contact.

She slowly does as I ask. Her beautiful breasts bounce and sway slightly. Her brown nipples nearly match her lovely eyes and I feel myself leaning to take one into my mouth. I take her small hand and wrap it around my aching cock. She gasps at the feel of it, hot and heavy in her hand. I show her the right pace and grip to use. She’s a quick learner and I nearly question her about it, but I refrain. I give her tits all of my attention, sucking, biting, kissing every inch of them in tandem.

“I want you to take your pleasure tonight sweet little Duchess.”

“What do you mean?” She asks quietly.

Her hand stops stroking as she looks me in the eye.

“It means we will do this your way tonight.”

“Is this your version of an apology?” She looks hopeful. Round eyes and parted lips nearly make me say yes.

“I have nothing to apologize for, but this is the closest you’ll ever get.”

I grip her face and kiss her harshly. That’s enough fucking talking. 

“Wait. You said it’s the way I like it tonight.”

I relent and lean back on the chair and look at her expectantly. 

She slowly slides forward claiming my lips gently. She kisses me slowly with her sweet tongue gliding across my black teeth tenderly. I start to get impatient with just kissing so I grip her waist and put her bare cunt where I need it most. She removes her lips from mine and begins kissing down my neck timidly exploring things with the marvel of an inexperienced girl. Which she was. The idea that all of her first would always be mine nearly makes me impale her right then, but I don't.

“I liked it when you used your mouth on me. Back on Caladan.”

Without another word I stand keeping her in my arms as I walk to the bed. She wraps her arms around my shoulders startled. As I lay her on the bed she realizes that I’m honoring her request. I watch her slowly as I kiss her on her second pair of lips. Her core greets me with a sticky liquid coating my lips and I smear it all over her before using my tongue to flick against her clit. Her responsive little squeaks and sighs are like music to my ears. I spend my time teasing her, licking and sucking her folds as they bloom under my attention like petals covered in morning dew. Like the rain on Caladan on the lush grass. 

“Please stop teasing me. Please suck me where I need you to.” She begs.

So full of surprises and always so direct. I listen to her again and suck her swollen clit harshly and she moans. I roll my tongue like a snake over her as I suck setting a good pace for her. My fingers itch with the need to feel her grip them so I sink two fingers into her tight hole earning the loudest moan so far. Her nails dig into the back of my head no doubt breaking my skin as I feel a small trickle from one of the punctures. Fingers and tongue moving in sync I feel her walls flutter and grip me as she tense and cries out loudly. Anyone in the corridor would surely hear her pleasure filled cries. 

Once she comes down from her high she looks down at me and opens her arms beckoning me to her.

“Come here.”

Like a trained pet I did exactly as she asked. I settled on top of her between her warm thighs.

“Be gentle with me tonight, Feyd. Please.” She pulls me down to her lips and kisses me deeply. Fuck I’m obsessed with the feel of her, the taste of her. The soft give of her small body yielded to my hard muscled one. With the most restraint I’ve ever used in my life I enter her slowly. Her hiss is an improvement from last night's tears and pleas for me to stop. As I bottomed out inside of her only pleasure remained but I wouldn’t be blinded by it. I focus on keeping a languid pace she can enjoy. Excruciating deep strokes let me feel every centimeter of her, and I knew I would cum soon. She did something to me no one else ever has. She makes me feel pleasure without the pain. Something I haven't experienced in this capacity.

Feeling her now no one could convince me she wasn’t mine. She belonged to me and me alone. I would fill her up often so that my scent permanently blended with hers. So that you could not smell one of us without the other. My darlings would come to recognize the scent of her on me, and they would come to love it as much as me. I lock lips with her tongues clashing and tasting every inch of each other. Her arms wrapped around my shoulders pulled me flush against her. 

Whatever child comes from our union would be living proof of our joining. Our child would be half her and half me in the flesh and the idea appeals to me greatly. She tightened her legs around me and circled her hips as I pushed even deeper somehow. I felt myself grip her neck tightly, but she didn’t quit her movements against me. I groan deep in my throat and she screams silently as we both find our peak, but I refuse to stop. I need more, more, more. I start ramming into her much like last night but this time she doesnt ask me to stop.

She rides her wave with me never looking away from me. My grip on her neck doesn’t ease and I can’t make myself release her, not until I get what i'm searching for. I feel the tingles in my balls and a sharp jab in my lower abdomen as I force myself to cum for a second time in such a short period of time. Only when my cock has emptied every drop into her does my hand let go of her delicate neck.

Her loud gasp fills the room as she tries to catch her breath. I expect her to be upset or angry, but she isn’t. She looks satisfied, sweaty, and mine. A red ring around her neck was already forming. 

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