#england x tea

[maryeve-the-bitch]

Bold of you to assume he'd end up with anyone

If Hima announced Hetalia was ending and teased that an England pairing would become canon during the finale, do you think endgame FrUK or USUK would be more likely? Complete the statement: “I’m making a bet on the England endgame ship and my money goes on [poll]”

No “which ship is better” slap fights, please! Personal preference/hope isn’t what this poll is about. I’m just curious which England pairing you guys think would have the best chance of a canon upgrade. You can like USUK more but still think FrUK has a better chance and vice versa

[hollandsfavbabe]

That’s The Tea

pairing: tom holland x reader

synopsis: in which tom finds out his girlfriend has no idea how to make tea

warnings: angsty-ish (not really), bad tea, england’s world cup loss

word count: 2.4k

masterlist

Freezing cold snow from outside littered the ground surrounding your house, coating everything in a sheet of white while warmth spread through your body as you snuggled into Tom’s side, only half paying attention to the screen in front of you. With the World Cup going on and the England team still in the running, Tom made it a point to watch it every night it was on, both as an avid football fan and as an extreme British patriot. As his girlfriend and house mate that meant you were also subjected to the sport you knew as soccer and though you cared little for the game, you enjoyed seeing Tom so passionate about it and had fun defending the USA team (up until they inevitably lost).

On this particular Saturday morning during a rousing game between England and France, Tom was unusually more tired than talkative and instead of giving you a play by play of the game, he kept a comforting arm around your waist and stroked your hair, planting soft kisses on your crown as he watched the game. The night previous he had been late coming home, his work keeping him longer than normal to finish an especially difficult scene. Though you both were perfectly content snuggled up on the sofa, you wished there was something you could do to make him more energetic while routing for his team, help him regain some of his normal vigor as England’s best played for their lives.

That’s when it hit you, Tom hadn’t completed an essential step in his daily routine yet, one that sometimes meant the difference between whether he was in a friendly mood or just wanted to be around you for the day. He hadn’t had his morning tea yet.

As the only American in the house, you’d never had the chance to make tea as you didn’t drink it as much as the others and you didn’t exactly know how to do it ‘the proper way’. As you understood it, there was a huge difference between English tea and American tea as they diverged somewhere in the brewing process, but both were tea in their own respects which prompted you to wonder how contrasting they really were. After living in England for so many years, you considered yourself most qualified to make Tom’s tea and with that goal set in mind, you were off.

You rotated around in Tom’s arms until you  were facing him, grinned and pecking his cheek as he beamed at you in return.

“What’s up, love?” he murmured groggily, his smile quickly flipping upside down as you started to move out of his hold. “No wait, c’mere.” he protested, grabbing onto your hand in hopes that you would tuck back into him.

“It’s okay, I’m coming back.” You laughed as you crouched over him to move some of the fallen curls out of his face. “I know how tired you are and I know you need your tea to function in the morning so I’ve decided to make it for you today.���

Tom’s eyebrows furrowed, clearly thinking the same as you.

“You don’t have to love, you’ve never made it before.”

You dismissed his concerns with a quiet pshh.

“Oh sure I have. I’ve made plenty of tea back in the US. It’ll be great, you’ll see. Do you take one sugar or two?”

Tom giggled.

“Two please and with just a splash of milk.”

“One British tea coming right up.” you promised, kissing his forehead as you left to make his tea, Tom’s gaze following you as you crossed the room.

“I love you!” Tom shouted from behind you as you disappeared into the kitchen. “Don’t be very long! I’m getting cold.”

Your laugh echoed from the other room as you shouted back, “You won’t be after my amazing tea!”

Thirty minutes and two sugars later, you returned with not just a cup of tea for Tom, but a tumbler of steaming hot coffee for yourself both in a small tray that you set down on the coffee table.

Tom sat up, his blanket falling on top of his lap as he reached out and picked up the cup from its place on the tray, bringing it to his center as the hot contents inside warmed him up. He sighed in relief and smiled at you as you grabbed your own drink.

“Thank you darling. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem.” you responded, sipping on your coffee as you took a seat beside him on the sofa, leaning into him.

Tom grinned as he refocused on the game, bringing the cup to his lips and slurping the liquid inside, but instead of the normal taste of tea, he was met with a liquid monstrosity that he immediately spat out onto the surrounding carpet, table, and you. You screamed and jumped up in shock, now sprayed with the hot liquid as you slammed your own drink down to prevent any more spillage.

“Ah Tom!” you shouted, wiping the tea from your now damp pajama shirt. “What the fuck?!”

Tom’s eyes grew wide as he stood with you, setting the disgusting tea down beside your drink as he jumped to apologize.

“I am so sorry y/n. I didn’t mean spray you with, oh shit, let me help you.” he offered, his game continuing on the screen, now forgotten. Tom grabbed your hand and led you to the kitchen when the sight that beheld him stopped him in his tracks.

“Y/n,” he mumbled, in absolute shock. “What did you do?”

In front of him was the most disarray he’s ever seen the kitchen, water splashed on the floor, microwave left wide open, and one of the countertops resembling a summer camp with string and tape splayed across the marble along with a stapler. There was a fucking stapler in the kitchen.

You stepped forward and checked out the mess, stepping over some split coffee grounds powder on the floor as you headed to the sink to wet a rag.

“I swear this is worse than how I left it. I was going to clean it after you finished so I could do the dishes too. Kill two birds with one stone.”

“Oh I think you could kill plenty of birds with that concoction.” Tom retorted, referring to your tea. He shook his head and looked away from the mess, taking your hands in his as he stared at you with concern.

“Y/n, you know I love you more than anything right.”

“Yeah I know.”

“Good. Remember that when I say this next part. Remember that I love you.”

Tom paused to take in a deep breath, the sort of one might take before announcing they’d like to separate, but in this case you were sure he was simply dramatic. He was an actor after all.

“Alright, I get it. Just spit it out.” you demanded, growing inpatient as you pulled your hands out of his and used the wet rag to wipe off the splattered tea on your shirt.

Tom grimaced, remembering whatever he had drunk out of the cup that you disguised as a normal cuppa when in fact, it was not just a cuppa. It was horrible.

“I’m sorry to say this, but that had to be the worst tea I have ever had in my entire life. It’s so bad honey, it’s even worse than Harry’s.”

You looked up at him in shock, the rag slipping from your hands as your expression changed from neutral to saddened.

“No.”

Tom nodded, regretfully.

“Yes, I’m sorry baby. But that’s the thing, I don’t think it’s your fault. You’ve never made this kind of tea before. Could you tell me how you did it?” he asked, hoping to help you by correcting any flaws in your recipe. There were sure to be a few.

“Oh alright.” You gave in. “I made it how I always do, just with milk and sugar this time because that’s how you like it.”

“How exactly did you make it?”

You thought back for a moment and started off at the beginning.

“I started by heating up the water for the tea..”

“With the kettle?” Tom asked, unsure there was any other way to do it. Much to his disappointment, there was.

“No.” you answered as if it was obvious. “With the microwave.”

Tom cringed as he shook his head and turned towards the microwave, closing the opened door as he motioned for you to continue.

“After I warmed it up, I put the tea bag in, but it didn’t have a string like the ones in the States do and it made me wonder why someone would make a tea bag without a string? How are you supposed to get it out? That’s like making a tampon without a string. Imagine how hard it would be to…”

Unable to keep you with your reasoning, Tom directed you back on topic.

“Y/n,” he reminded you gently.

“Right, sorry. Got a little carried away. Well anyways I was just so appalled by the stringless bag that I figured should fix it.”

“What do you mean?” Tom wondered aloud. You shrugged, puzzled by how dumbfounded your boyfriend seemed as you explained your thought process.

“I added a string. I got some string and a stapler and I fixed the tea bag.”

“Y/n, that’s yarn.” Tom corrected, pointing out the thick white ball of it that lie scattered across the marble countertop.

“It was the only one we had.”

Tom bit his lip, looking up to the ceiling as if he was asking for help from above before he met your eyes again and repeated your statement.

“So what you’re telling me is you cut a piece of yarn and you stapled it to the tea bag?”

“Yes. Then I-”

“Wait, hold on. I want to make sure we’re picturing the same thing. You stapled it to the tea bag?”

You nodded, wondering what about the situation was not getting across to him as he remained absolutely bewildered.

“Yeah, the tape didn’t work.” you explained. Tom shook his head as he looked away from the stapler, no longer wishing to accept its presence in the kitchen.

“Oh y/n, please keep going.”

“As I was saying, after I fixed the tea bag, I put it in the water and stirred it up a bit until it all looked nice and mixed. At that point I had finished making my coffee so I added some milk and two sugars just like you said and brought it out to you.”

Tom noticed a gap in your story where a vital step lay that you did not explain completing.

“You took the tea bag out though right?” he questioned. Though he was genuinely asking, somewhere deep inside himself, he already knew the answer.

You laughed.

“What you think I’m stupid? I wouldn’t want the tea to lose its flavor. Of course I didn’t take the tea bag out.”

Tom shook his head, trying his hardest to wipe the taste of the tea from his brain so that he would not gag on its haunting aftertaste.

“Y/n, you’re supposed to take the tea bag out!”

“How was I supposed to know? I drink coffee.”

“I knew you shouldn’t have made the tea. You can’t do it right.”

You scoffed, agreeing with his statement, but refusing to go down as the only bad cook in the house.

“Okay Mr. Ethnocentrism, need I remind you of how badly you screwed up cheeseburgers last week when we invited your family over?”

Tom’s face burned red.

It was true, you had tasked him with something you and everyone else perceived as simple, but instead of delicious classic American cheeseburgers, Tom brought out a platter of what closely resembled eight individual disintegrated panties. His excuse? The cheese wasn’t processed enough.

“Alright, that was worse.” he admitted, wishing he would have asked you for help.

“Thank you.”

He took another look around the kitchen and laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“I can’t believe you actually stapled yarn to the bag.”

“They already have the string attached back in the States!” You reasoned, a smile making its way upon your face as you too realized how absurd it all was.

“I know baby it’s okay.” He comforted, bringing you into him as he embraced you, still damp with the tea. “Let’s just clean this up and how about I show you how to make a real cuppa.”

“That sounds alright.” you agreed and together you got to work.

While you changed into dry clothes, Tom cleaned up most of the spilled items, putting away what was never needed and taking out the ingredients for real tea, including the kettle. Once you returned he showed you through the whole process, helping you use the kettle and showing you how to remove tea bags from cups without strings. Once the milk and sugar was added, he stirred it all together and presented it to you, letting you take the first sip.

You inhaled the scent of the tea and took a sip, swallowing it down and faking a grin as the hot drink slid down your throat.

“It’s alright.”

Tom shook his head as he drank his cuppa.

“It’s more than alright, you crazy. It’s fantastic.” he emoted, closing his eyes as if he had emerged from a world of eternal peace with his tea.

“I’m more of a coffee person.” you remarked, shaking your head at his dramatics.

He laughed, walking you back to the living room where your coffee and his game were waiting for you both.

“Thanks for trying babe, I love you.” he praised, kissing your cheek before another sip of his tea.

“Mm, thanks for teaching me.” you answered, enjoying your own coffee until the final score of the game flashed across the screen causing an uproar next to you.

“NOO!” Tom screamed, standing upright.

“Tom, look out! You’re tea-“

It was too late. The cup had fallen to the floor and once again splashed all over the carpet and your sweat pants, staining the white fabric a soft brown.

Tom looked down at his mess, a furious blush marking his face as he realized what he had just done.

“I’ll clean it up.” he said, defeated at the loss of his team and his morning tea as he moved to grab some towels.

“You better.”

[fireandiceland]

MAPLE MILKSHAKE I LOVE THAT stealing it if I ever update my cannyoame fic oTL

Also if you're still making a list of ship names, I remembered a few!

Haggis burger = scotame

Maple haggis = scotcan (I've seen someone suggest haggis poutine but idk I like maple haggis better)

I saw it once somewhere but "Celtic knot" for scotire

Burger dumplings I've seen once or twice for amechu

I've come up with "leek tea" if I ever make more waleseng content

Thank you!!! I also thought it's cute and added it to my list since there was no other names I could find for that ship <3

also I hadn't heard any of the others you mentioned before so I also wrote those down! and "leek tea" - that's an interesting one. If you dont mind me asking I'd love to know how you came up with it!

[crossovershipsandedits]

Characters: Goku Black X 2p England

Fandoms: Dragon Ball Super | Hetalia

Relationship: Romantic

[ppcbug]

Happy Commonwealth day! Formerly known as Empire day!

🇨🇦🤝🇬🇧

[madamechrissy]

Silent Serenades

♔ An arranged Marriage with Duke Gojo ♔

♔ Pairings: Satoru Gojo x you

♔ Warnings: Mentions of infidelity, mentions of disordered eating of the reader and past emotional abuse, Satoru doesn't really help how he should but his dumbass tries, heavy angst, jealousy, smacking, Duke Gojo is becoming pathetic, lots of begging, heartfelt chap, cunnilingus, fingering, toxic attraction, Gojo is toxic. OOC. ANGST. SO MUCH TENSION.

♔ Word count this chap: 9.7k

♔ Summary: you are the diamond of the season, he is the charming Duke, it’s the marriage of the decade. Prominent families joining, and it so happens that Duke Gojo is gorgeous. But, he doesn't want you, and now you're trapped in a loveless arranged marriage. Royal AU, dark bridgerton vibes, Cruel Gojo x reader. OOC Set in 1800s England. Slow burn, enemies to lovers. Gojo is awful at first, HEAVY angst Basically- Gojo is a royal dick and doesn't wanna marry you

(taglist open/Comments/ reblogs always appreciated 🥰

Part Five - Masterlist - Playlist

Part Six- Dinner is just a Masquerade

Satoru sits right across from you, glaring as you sit there in your chair, sipping on black coffee from a delicate china, and not touching your plate. You do eat of course, but you refuse to do so in front of him, even after he’d said it was false, you were too nervous. You’d always been a peckish little eater, and your parents praised that, so many people praised your impeccable manners at the table.

Your arms rest just so on the edge of the table, your pinky sits up so high as you take a sip, you know just how many times to chew to seem as if you’re enjoying a dish. You know all the etiquette, and you know how to keep from gaining weight, or to quickly slim if you catch the slightest ounce, you know how to keep healthy enough without looking overly indulgent.

For once, you’d just enjoyed a damn dish, you figured you did not need to impress Duke Gojo, after all he said he’d never want you. But the comment had triggered something you don’t quite like. Aside from Nanami stuffing your mouth full of delicious cookies, you’ve not eaten too much, it’s almost like a control you feel you need, but you must admit, you’re starving right now.

You have fluffy scones, tea and biscuits, and you’re just sipping this coffee, hoping it eases your throat. Duke Gojo slams his hands on the table then, picking up a scone and striding to you, yanks you by your hair. You gasp at the sensation, smacking at his big, stupid hands as he bends low over you.

“Get your damn hands off me.” You bite out, grabbing at his strong wrists and pulling at them, digging your long nails in his skin.

“You’ll fucking eat something, goddamn brat. Open your mouth.” He bends low and you grit your teeth, brows low as you scowl right back at his pretty face, as he’s trying to shove a scone in your mouth.

“Excuse me- ah!” He’s shoved it now, shoving your mouth closed by your jaw, and you’re forced to chew the sweet thing. He leans close to you, thumb brushing against your lower lip, staring at you with swirling blue eyes, so intense you shut your own, chewing it slowly.

You swallow it down, only for him to open your mouth more gently, and it does something to your tummy you hate, this feeling, it’s not butterflies like Nanami, no it’s brutal moths flying violently, and you detest it. You detest that you take another bite of scone for him, finishing it, licking your lower lip and sucking in a breath, your eyes locked on him.

“I should have never said that.” He sits on the table, most casual for him as he’s typically as formal as can be, his thighs spread far too wide and making you remember seeing him. You blush furiously, sipping your coffee then carefully.

“I have forgiven you, Duke. I am not much of an eater anyway.”

“It’s what I said, and I know it’s why you’re wasting away.” He grabs your wrist, wrapping his hand around it gently, an odd sensation and it feels so intense from what you’re used to.

“I’m still a healthy size-”

“For now. Please fucking eat. I know I’m horrible, I know you hate me, I know you owe me no kindness…” You hear his usually cruel voice break, and you struggle to keep your breaths steady, as he caresses your jaw in a way he shouldn’t. “Just don’t let me be the cause of this.”

“Why do you care? You’re so bloody confusing.” You pop another one in your mouth though, and watch his exhale in relief, running a hand through his silky white hair, closing his eyes for a moment.

“I wanted you to hate me, not hurt yourself.” You blink, looking up again.

“Well, you succeeded in me hating you.” You finish chewing and dab your mouth with the handkerchief, an action Satoru’s insane eyes follow.

“I know I did. I will not make a comment again about this however, you have my word. I am… I am sorry.” You feel the sincerity, and though you still hate him, you decide to finally let this go. If this was as good as anything would get with the infuriating, cold Duke.

“Well, thank you, Duke Gojo.” You sip more coffee, as he hops off the table, and your heart thuds in your chest, throat feeling tight again.

“I actually like women with more meat on their bones. You see my mistresses, it was just… I honestly didn’t think you’d believe me.” His voice is strained as he sits back down next to you, nibbling on his own food now slowly, and you sigh, leaning back a bit in your seat, not your typical straight stature.

“I am confident in ways but I have always watched how I look. Making sure to look perfect. It’s what I am praised for, it’s my worth, how well I am wedded. To marry a Duke made my family proud of me, and that is all my worth is, appearance, posture, how I act, how I laugh… how I eat. All of it. A woman has nothing else truly.”

Duke Gojo sips his sweet tea with milk, contemplating you carefully. What were you doing, opening up to this man? Stupid.

“I assumed you were highly confident, that you would know you’re nothing close to a ‘pig’ in how you eat.”

Your hands run along the edge of your little ceramic cup, touching the handle and studying him, tilting your head. “So why say it, then? To make me hate you?”

“Yes.”

Huh.

“May I know why?”

“No.”

There it is, the confusion, the haughty look on his face you want to punch right off of him. He’s clearly done with whatever tiny vulnerability he’s shown, and likely done affording you any kindness. You sigh, rolling your eyes and shaking your head. “And I still disgust you?”

He clears his throat, pulling at his collar, stiffening in his seat. “Don’t I disgust you, Duchess?”

You bite your lower lip, nodding. “You have lay with four women since I’ve known you, covered in their rouge, their perfume, their lip stains. Indeed, I do not find that attractive. But as for your looks, of course you are handsome.” His eyes widen, full lips parting for a moment.

“I’m handsome to you?”

You roll your eyes at him. “You’re extremely handsome outwardly, on the inside is quite another story, Duke. But you already know that.”

He sips his tea once more, just a hint of color on his cheeks. “Well you have not said so.”

“You want me to? You hate me.”

He looks away. “Yes, I do.”

You sigh then. “This conversation grows tiresome-”

“You’re attractive outwardly as well, very, very attractive. You disgust me because… of other reasons than your beauty.” His soft words are barely a whisper, especially at the end.

Now your cheeks flush, but you just sigh. “Oh, so you were not serious when you said-”

“No, I should not have said that either. Now you disgust me because you spread your legs wide for that man.” His fists clench, you stand then, shaking your head.

“What care you? Your cock in another woman every night.” Gojo stands now, stepping right in front of you.

“And was his cock in you, like a whore?” You smack him then, right across his face, and he scowls now, grabbing your wrist, bending low over you. “You’re the most insolent brat I’ve met.”

“And you’re the most stupid, cruel man I’ve ever met. I will not answer your stupid question. I ask not what you do.”

“Well you’re the innocent one here, or you were.”

“What do you care? My innocence isn’t yours to take. I’d never give it to you.” You whisper, and he grabs your waist then, pulling you flush against him, eyes darting to your lips.

“You act as if you do not want me, when I touch you, your body tells another story.” His voice is dangerously soft as he runs his fingers down your skin, where it’s bare on your shoulders, you shiver, your nipples tightening involuntarily. You can’t stand your stupid body.

“And you beg to touch me, don’t you Gojo?” His eyes narrow, long white lashes over his gaze now at your soft words. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Just because you taste good doesn’t mean I… you know what? Fuck you, Duchess.”

“Fuck you, Duke. Are the formalities in order for our daily battle? Do you enjoy them so, Duke?” Your free hand slides down his abdomen, watching him suck in a breath, feeling his muscles tense. “Enjoy touching me? Enjoy tasting me? Do you hate that I let someone else?”

You watch his jaw clench, watch him gulp, as his grip on you tightens just so. “It’s disgusting that you do. You’re so desperate, so pathetic, to jump in someone’s arms so quickly. You know you are.” His voice is hoarse, however, strained, his chest heaving with labored breaths.

You laugh softly, giving him a mean smile. “So what does that make you, the man who jumps in any woman’s arms? So fucking desperate anyone will do?”

Satoru grabs your face then, squishing your cheeks as he leans even lower, and you hate your body’s reaction again, you hate everything about him. “What do you care who I lay with then, hmm? Jealous of them?”

“Ha, no… I wouldn’t touch you, lord knows where you’ve been? You wish.”

He snorts. “I do not wish.”

You raise a brow. “Mmm, indeed.”

“Eat one more, wife, since you wish to please your husband, don’t you? The perfect little fucking wife.” You scowl again, popping one more, noticing the pleased smile.

“Only because I am hungry.” You speak after you chew, and he exhales, letting your wrist go, caressing your cheek softly, you hate it, but find that your eyes are fluttering shut.

“Good. Prepare today, we have that dinner with our parents.”

“I’ll be the picture of fake wedded bliss.” You smile sweetly, and he shakes his head, why won’t he let your damn waist go!?

“You sure do know how to pretend. We don’t want them knowing the truth, that we hate each other, hmm?”

“Indeed, I can absolutely pretend. Watch.” You take his hand, batting your long lashes and smiling sweetly, leaning up and pecking a kiss on his cheek, watching the blush decorate the shameless man’s face. “Oh Mama, Papa, I’m ever so happy as Duke Gojo’s wife.”

“Bitch.” He huffs, and you pull back and curtsey.

“I know, perfect performance, hmm?”

“No, you’d be calling me Satoru by now. If I wanted to, I’d have you screaming out ‘Satoru’.” His husky whisper is against your lips as he brushes the backs of his knuckles down your collarbone. You fall into that infinite pool that are Gojo’s eyes, for just a moment, before righting yourself.

“I only scream ‘Satoru’ when he pees on the floor.” You coo, yanking back from him just a step, and earning his furious scowl.

“You’re such a bitch. Imagine if I were the type of husband to take what’s mine, to keep you locked up like some pretty bird in a cage. Ever been happy I don’t?”

“I’m very happy you don’t fuck me. It will be so fun to fuck him-”

Gojo grabs you by the throat then, squeezing just so, and you just laugh as he bends down low. “You’re such a stupid whore.”

“I’m learning from the best.” You whisper out, nails digging into his wrist, but something about how he squeezes, how his other hand slides up your rib cage, makes you…

Wet.

Something’s so wrong with you!?

He releases you, leaning down again, and you hold him at a distance, his blue stormy eyes dilated now. “I should occupy your mouth with other things.”

“I wouldn’t suck you, who knows where that cock has been-”

“You know what that is!?” He demands, tips of his ears red.

You clear your throat, looking down and stepping back, as Satoru is furious. “It’s none of your-”

“You sucked a man off like some-”

“Like how I saw a girl suck you. Mmhmm.” You say then, defiant, raising your eyes back to his, looking at him under your lashes. Gojo grabs you again, and you smack him again, in this stupid fucking dance you both do.

“Did you really?”

“You mad it wasn’t you?” He opens his mouth, those pink lush lips wide, as if he’s at a loss for words. “Maybe I’ll ask your women for tips, you know, for next time.”

He laughs harshly, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair, exasperated clearly. “Ask my mistresses for tips on sucking cock?”

“Mmm, indeed. I’m not sure if I did the best as my first time. But you know, he enjoyed it clearly, he… well you know.” 

“You’re such an evil little bitch.” You just smile as he chokes you once more, you feel him holding back, you know he wants to crush your windpipe, but the soft pressure is thrilling. “So you’re just swallowing cum then?”

“Why not? Don’t they swallow, Gojo?” He says nothing, as he’s panting, as you’re whispering through the squeeze of your throat.

“You wouldn’t be able to talk if I fucked your mouth, that’s the difference, wouldn’t be able to swallow anything for days without remembering my cock fucking your little throat.” His words shoot straight to your cunt, and it’s like he knows, as he grips your skirts tightly into a fist.

“I’d never suck you.” You say then, earning a tighter squeeze before he releases you, furious now. “You won’t be any of my firsts, I don’t even count our kiss.” You cough then, rubbing your throat, and Gojo’s fury just grows, as does his despair, as his eyes look so… sad then.

You don’t care.

Gojo deserves this and worse.

You don’t care when he storms away without a fucking word, and you don’t care when he says nothing to you even in that carriage ride to your parents home, where Gojo’s Mama and step dad would be. You don’t care how his thighs are spread, one pressed against yours, how you feel the heat of him against your skin through those layers of satin.

What do you care if he’s upset?

The carriage ride to your parents' home is tense, the silence thick with tension, as Satoru Gojo sulks like a damn child. He keeps peeking at you, before glaring and staring back out the carriage window, fuming. You sit rigidly, your heart racing from the altercation in the dining room, you can still feel his hand on your throat, and you wish you hated it more.

The soft rocking of the carriage and the rhythmic clop of the horses' hooves against the cobblestone streets are the only sounds that fill the space in the tense quarters. You hate that his scent fill the air between you, a mix of sandalwood and something sweet, fuck does this stupid man need to smell so good!?

You focus on the passing scenery outside the window, you should take this as a good thing, Satoru Gojo finally shutting the fuck up. Right? How often have you gotten him to-

“Bet you were wet.”

What!?

You look to him incredulously, mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?”

“When I choked that pretty throat of yours.” His ankle is crossed over his knee, he’s resting his chin on his hand, smirking now.

“I was certainly not, damned brute!”

“No, not a bit? You looked like you liked it. Wonder how freaky your baker really gets, could he handle you?”

“Stupid fucking man.” You shove at his arm now, maybe you should have enjoyed that silence. “You presume too much, your Grace.”

“Felt you twice, soaked.” His voice drips with sex, as drippy as he had your little pussy, but you'll not say it out loud. Fuck Duke Gojo.

“Wasn’t you who did it.”

“Lying little bitch.”

“Conceited dick!”

As the carriage draws to a halt in front of your parents' grand estate, you both are glaring at each other, and he’s too close, he’s too close. You want to punch him if not for being at your parents’, and them seeing your ‘husband’ with a giant bruise on his face. Your fingers itch badly to, but soon one of the attendants was opening the carriage door, and Satoru steps out.

He holds his hand out then, and you ignore it, choosing to step down instead, holding your skirts up, nearly tripping as your legs aren’t quite long enough with your flouncy skirts. Then Satoru’s hand catches you by your bare upper arm, and it sends a jolt through your body, a reminder of his earlier touch, and you immediately pull away, smoothing your skirts as if to wipe away the sensation.

“Wanted to land on your face, brat?” He demands through gritted teeth, earning your glare up at him.

“Face planting is preferable to your touch.” He scoffs, walking ahead of you, and you struggle to compose yourself, hating everything about this man.

Perfect.

Composed.

You can do this. You can’t let Satoru see his stupid effects on you anymore than he already has.

Once seated at the long, elegantly set dinner table, the weight of your parents' expectations press down on you. Satoru sits next to you, and instead of being perfect and composed, he seemed on the very edge, fury just radiating. You wonder at him, why was he mad you did the same thing he did? He’s confusing, he’s stupid, he’s bloody infuriating.

You wish you were instead baking with Mr. Nanami, not forcing smiles in this masquerade of an affair next to London’s biggest asshole. Let him ruin the sham of marriage you think, perhaps it will end it all sooner… Though you know in your heart your parents will not let this go, they would simply force you to stay, as would Gojo’s mother.

Gojo’s stepfather looks bored, he and Gojo do not even acknowledge each other, which you find somewhat curious as you pick at your food, the rich aromas of roast beef and steamed vegetables doing little to quell the nervousness in your stomach. You make yourself eat some, noticing Gojo’s relief next to you.

Why does he suddenly care?

The room is lit by several candles, along with a beautiful chandelier overhead, casting flickering shadows across the polished silverware and crystal glasses. Your parents manor was one of the most grand aside from royalty, which of course you were now, but the beauty is hard to rival. If your parents liked one thing, it was opulence, it was being the top of society.

It doesn’t feel much like a home truly. You did not have a bad childhood, no indeed you are very lucky, your parents let you ride horses, play outside, cook in the kitchens. The only pressures you faced were preparing to be a good wife, to be the most perfect, and even though you’ve ‘accomplished’ it, the weight of their gazes and their expectations drowns you still.

The sound of forks and knives clinking against porcelain plates fills the air, punctuated by the occasional forced laughter, along with perfunctory conversation, until they get to what they really wanted to talk about. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself as your mother looks at you both.

“So, are we trying for an heir?” You sputter, and Gojo smirks then, looking down at you and raising a brow.

“We have been actively trying, haven’t we, my love.” You grit your teeth at his stupid words, sure he’s playing a game but you hate them.

“Indeed, we have been trying most… fervently, sweet Satoru.” He gulps audibly on the sweet wine he’s drinking, raising brows at the use of his name.

“I’m most pleased to hear this. We had our worries.” Your mother says, and Gojo’s mom smiles.

“I also had my worries. But I can see the sparks between you both.” You stifle a rude laugh, but Gojo snorts, earning a subtle stomp on his foot, and a glare from him, to which you just smile brightly, batting your lashes at him.

“Indeed, I see them as well. Young and in love.” Your dad says, winking at you both, and you literally can barely stop yourself from snorting, instead shoving food into your mouth, and you notice your parents shock, brows raised.

“Eat like that so often and you won’t keep that perfect little waist, darling.” Your mom’s words make your fork clatter then, and you clear your suddenly tight throat, feeling your eyes prick with tears.

“She barely eats, like a damned bird, she has an appetite from us riding horses earlier is all.” Satoru says then, and you look at him in shock, as he’s… is Satoru… defending you?

“Of course, she also must eat well to have a baby you know.” Satoru’s mom says softly, and your mother smiles a bit, nodding, as her crushing words hit an already fragile part of you.

“Indeed, but your husband married you a certain way, you know.” She quips then, and your chest heaves with labored breaths, as you sip on your drink, and you feel Satoru’s hand then, under the cover of the heavy damask tablecloth, on your thigh, not sexual either it’s…

Supportive?

“I assure you she could stand to eat more, she’s rather petite. I enjoy a woman who eats.” He says, and his touch is light, almost imperceptible, but it sends a shiver up your spine, as he speaks so bravely for you, on something he himself had said. He now looks to you, and you see it, pain in his eyes that's reflected from yours.

Understanding.

“You’re not the same size, are you, when you married?” Satoru’s mom quips to your mom, and she gasps, you and Satoru hold in your chuckles just barely.

“Well, I… I’m older and had a babe! We can’t all stay your size, Lady Gojo.”

“Leave her alone, she’s just hungry.” Your dad says, and you sigh a bit as your mother finally relents. You can’t eat another bite, as she picks you apart.

“You look pale. That’s not well. You should have more color.” She says now, and you can’t stand another moment, wanting to throw back your wine.

“She’s been in the bed chambers so much, Mama.” Satoru quips, and soon everyone laughs at his remark, and once again, he squeezes your thigh, giving you a small smile.

“Why are you being nice?” You whisper, leaning to his ear, as a loving couple would do, and you inhale his scent, you feel the heat of his palm over your skirts.

“Because your mom’s a bitch.” You giggle a bit, looking up and seeing a different side of him, his smirk… charming and not cruel. You try to remind yourself he’s horrible, and you will remember that later, but for a brief moment you’re content to enjoy him.

“They’ll definitely be making babies.” Satoru’s mom says, and she looks to Satoru curiously then. “Have you given up your rakish ways, Satoru?”

“What rakish ways, you wound me, Mother.” She rolls her pretty blue eyes, a shade darker than Duke Gojo’s, and you tentatively put a hand on his, making him squeeze your thigh, you watch him suck in a breath.

“He’s a reformed rake at present, aren’t you, Satoru?” The room is quiet, and he looks at you in surprise, nodding, pressing a kiss to your cheek, and his warm lips feel far, far too sweet on your skin.

“Indeed, reformed for you my love.” He murmurs, and you can’t take how charming he looks, acts, even when you know how he really is.

You hate that you wished for one moment this was real, that the man you’d had dreams of as a young girl, the Duke - he’d been so charming and funny you noticed from afar- was actually kind. That he wouldn’t be fucking another woman right next to you, right in front of you. That he would truly mean what he says, and not constantly confuse you.

Was there kindness in him, in Satoru Gojo, or just this moment, where you both have some strange agreement? Why won’t you lift your hand off of his, why are you brushing a thumb along his knuckles, and why won’t he release your leg? His hand slides higher, his thumb ghosting along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, and you bite back a gasp.

The conversation carries on, until Lady Gojo brings up Satoru’s father, and his grip gets brutal, his breathing labored. You clutch onto his hand, looking at him with concern stark in your gaze then. That vein bulges out of his jaw, and now he’s downing a whole glass of wine, holding the empty crystal for a servant to fill, beginning to chug that one down.

“I won’t speak of him, you know that Mother.” She sighs then, shaking her head, cutting a piece of roast beef and chewing it delicately.

“I do not know what ever happened.”

“You need not know. Do not bring him up, he’s dead, he’s gone.” At Satoru’s harsh and cruel words of his own father your mind races, what could he have done to earn such ire?

“Let’s speak of other things.” You chime in then, and he exhales, turning his hand up to entwine with yours, it’s as if you both were relying on each other to get through this sham of a dinner. Something about this was nicer than you cared to admit. “What of the opera this weekend? Are any of you going?”

“Indeed, we have a box seat. Are you two going?” Your father asks, as Lady Gojo is quiet, contemplative, and your mom is still rather huffy about the weight comments.

“We’re going, of course. You know I love the opera.” You say brightly, and soon the topics shift, and they’re on to speak of the races, of gossip, of different businesses and even political matters. The heat is off you and Satoru, so you let go of a hand you’ve held far too long.

Satoru’s hand doesn’t leave your body, it wraps around your back, rubbing little circles against it that feel so good. You laced incredibly tight due to your Mama and her perpetual comments, and you’re struggling just a bit to breathe, but he’s so comforting, his presence. It shouldn’t be.

It shouldn’t be.

It can’t be.

You hate him.

How dare he comfort you, defend you, how could you do the same, how could you act this way when hours ago he’d choked you, and you’d slapped him, and you’d both been so nasty? What was this, were you thinking more into it, was he just keeping up appearances?

Satoru leans close to you then, holding a piece of dessert on a silver fork, and you have flashbacks, of him and Catherine, so vivid you feel sick, you pull back then, wondering how you’d let it get so far, this facade. Just hours ago you had slapped him and he had choked you, and even you had been cruel, something you frequently were lately.

“I need some air, I’m afraid. Excuse me for just a moment.” You say softly, and Satoru’s eyes narrow a bit, his lips pursing just so.

You rush out into the gardens now, just like you had that night, taking several shaky breaths, trying to compose yourself, remind yourself of the cruel reality that Satoru is not kind, he is not interested. The truth that you have someone who cares, and every moment you enjoy with Satoru feels like some betrayal to him, in such an odd way.

You would be at best a plaything, and at worst, something for Satoru to mock, to have something over you. It was not as if the man for whatever reason feels some attraction that anything has changed. You are a damn fool, you realize it, as you walk past the beautiful marble statues of couples in love, naked aside from rippled sheets gracing their bodies.

You touch a particular one then, seeing the beauty of it, but also the pain, a statue with two women and one man. One is pulling at the man’s shoulders, while the other is in his arms, and you see the pain in the woman’s ivory face, the set of her brows, her hollow eyes, as the other woman smiles so coyly. There is the utmost detail as the man’s hand presses into her flesh.

You are that other woman, or you become that woman when you have just one feeling, just one care, just one moment. He is not sincere, he is not kind, just because he gave you one moment of reprieve, just because he apologized for one wrong doing amongst the countless… he is not worthy of forgiveness… he is not…

“It is rather beautiful, isn’t it?” You jerk and turn when you see him behind you in the dark night, where thousands of glittery stars watch you and judge you, will they laugh at how stupid you’ve become?

“It is my favorite piece in these gardens.” You say softly, clearing your throat and tilting your head back to look up at him, at his soft lips that tempt you with every breath, at his long white lashes casting shadows down his cheeks. You look down then, nervously gripping your sapphire gown. “I’ll be back momentarily, your Grace.”

“Your mother, she upset you.” His words surprise you, and you take a nervous breath, nodding. “I did not know… I see now, how jealous she is of you.”

“Jealous of me?”

“Mmm, young and beautiful, and she wishes she still was, not that she’s not a pretty lady, but certainly not…” He trails off then, tugging at his cravat, nervous by your shocked expression. “Not you.”

Your heart falters, tears pricking your eyes, and as they fall, Satoru brushes one away with a thumb, ripping apart a fragile psyche. “Why are you being kind? What games do you mean to play?”

He sighs, looking down now as well, broad shoulders slumping a bit. “I just realize that I triggered something already there, and I feel fucking horrible.”

“Then why do it? Why do any of it? What did I do to deserve-”

“I can’t tell you.” His voice is broken, his words so confusing you can’t stand it. “But we have something in common. Or, we did.”

“What, pray tell, is that?” You ask, raising a brow.

His jaw sets. ‘Shit parents who clearly hate us. Though, my shitty parent is since deceased. And yours lives and eats across from you. Was she always like this?”

You blink rapidly, nodding and brushing tendrils that have fallen from your half up do out of your face. “She’s always needed me perfect, picked me to fucking pieces, it’s like I couldn’t live up to it.”

He laughs, dark and without humor then. “I understand that feeling, to need to be perfect. I suppose I thought you were though.”

“I just come across that way. There’s so much wrong with me…”

“Like what?”

“A lot. As you know.”

“Hmm.” He sighs then, as you both stand together in the night, and you hate how much you ache to touch his chest, to feel his arms around you. And why!? Why?

“Well thank you for the kindness tonight, even if it was an act, it was a rather beautiful one.” You turn then, head dropping and shoulders stopping just a bit, as the gentle breeze of the night blows against your skin, making you shiver. Satoru’s big hands grip your shoulders then, and you stiffen, fighting how good it feels, fighting that feeling when he’s pressed against you.

Satoru leans down, breath tickling your ear. “It was not an act to defend you. That was not an act when you helped me either, changing that subject, was it?”

You shake your head then, breathing so heavy, wishing it would calm, as he’s so fucking close, you can feel him everywhere in the night, as if it’s all him. “You helped me, so of course I helped.”

“After all I’ve done, you owe me no kindness. No forgiveness. None.” His words are terse, as his grip tightens, and you bite your lower lip so brutally you tear the skin of it, tasting just a bit of blood. You fight every urge in your body.

“You’re not owed any. That is true. And we will go back to normal, as soon as we are at Gojo Manor-”

“Home. At home.”

“Your home.” You look up and glare, as he scowls. “You’ll have a mistress waiting in your bed, and you’ll cease to need to excite yourself with this stupid game, once a woman you desire is there.”

“You think…” His hands slip down to your waist, pressing you against him, and your head falls back against his chest before you can stop it, letting out a little whine that you despise. “I don’t desire you? Are you so stupid?”

“Fuck you, Gojo. Fuck you confusing me, fuck everything about you, including making me think… making me…”

“Think what, Princess?” His husky tone and that word make you so on edge you can’t stand it, as a big hand presses on your tummy over your corset.

“Don’t call me that, I’m a Duchess, and that’s temporary.”

“You’re a whole fucking Princess, everything about you. This body, this face, that annoyingly perfect posture, the way the entire room holds its breath-”

“Don’t do this. Don’t. You’re a liar.” You turn then, only for him to bend at the waist, cupping your face, shaking his head, the moonlight like a halo behind his head, behind his body, like he’s an angel, when he’s not. “Devil. You’re a devil.”

“And you’re a fucking angel.” You shake your head again, shoving at his chest, but his lips descend, and they feel so good they pulse through you, until you find yourself tip toeing, and he moans in your mouth. “Slutty angel.”

“Whore devil.” You whisper back, only for him to grip you roughly, hands obscene, grabbing your ass over your gown, picking you up with ease and pressing you against that statue, it digs in so hard but you come alive, as he’s kissing down your throat, your chest, biting and moaning so softly.

“Why must you do this to me? Haunt me so. I should hate you.” He says then, confusing the ever living shit out of you. “I should not want you.”

“Why not? Why do you… no… just, let me go. Don’t want this, don’t want you, I don’t!” You smack at his chest, and he grabs your wrists, shoving them behind your back, bringing your hips to him, and he’s hard and thick over your layers. You cry out, head falling back, and he devours you, bit by bit.

“I hate it. I hate you.” He kisses and kisses, as every confession of hate confuses you, as does your throbbing pussy. “I can’t stop it, I can’t stop these thoughts… of tasting you, of kissing you, bit by bit, of making you cum so much you’ll forget that man, he’ll be nothing.”

“Mnh, stop it. You can’t. You won’t. I won’t.” He’s sliding his hand up your bodice, gripping your breasts, shaking his head. “I can’t fall for this, for you, just leave me be!” He frowns then, brows knitting together, as he caresses your cheek far too softly.

His eyes devour you, full of… it’s fucking desire, isn’t it? A person can’t fake that look, but you must ignore it! You must… “Please… I need-”

You both fall apart as you hear your family now, and you just barely manage to escape with your mind intact. Partially.

You can’t fall for this, what even is this!?

It’s a silent carriage ride back, as you both stare out those dark carriage windows, pitch black nearly aside from soft lights hanging along, marking your path, and you can’t get his touch out of your mind, his kiss off your lips. You touch them then, sighing, and his eyes lock on you.

“What?” You say then, putting your fingers down, and he opens his mouth, then shuts it, opening it again. “Say it, Duke.”

“I was not pretending. I meant it.” You laugh then, shaking your head and facing him, as he faces you in the night, the carriage rocking roughly, shoving you into his damn arms, making him suck in a breath, as you push back.

“You’re such a liar, instead of just being cruel outwardly, you want to make me think you actually…”

“Actually what?”

“Want me! When you don’t!”

“I do! I do, fuck I do. Can you not fucking see!?” He demands then, and you shake your head quickly, breaths in quick pants, as his stupid fucking hands run down your shoulders. “I want you so badly I came and begged to taste you. Twice. What do you think that means?”

“That you’re stupid, confusing, a dick! Angry I don’t fall to my fucking knees for you. Conceited, narcissistic and ruthless! Cold and beautiful and hard, like some fucking diamond. You’re the diamond, you!” You shove at him, and he lets you, he lets you smack at him. “I hate you! I hate my life because of you!”

When you stop for just a moment it’s because you hear his labored breaths, and you look up to see tears in the night. You gulp, shaking your head, unbelieving them, gripping his suit so tight it hurts in your hands. He rests his forehead on yours, and you taste the sweet brandy on his breath, and fuck you hate it, when his head tilts, and when his lips brush yours like a ghost.

“You make me cry, you make me hate myself more, you make me… make me want to… you’ve pushed me so hard I-”

“I’m so fucking sorry. I am. I swear to god.”

“Then explain it!”

He chokes on his own cry, you feel your tears mingling together. “I can’t explain it to you, I can’t, but it was never your fault.”

“So I just accept that!? Fuck that. That’s bullshit.” You shove back, swiping your eyes and backing up, your back slamming against the rocking wooden carriage seat, thighs shaking. “It’s because I’m happy without you, you can’t stand it.”

“No, I can’t stand it, not when it’s me who should be making you cum.” You nearly growl in anger, glaring at him and smacking him, only for him to let you, to grip your wrist and kiss your palm. “Don’t fucking do that! I won’t stop seeing him. He is who deserves me, you do not!”

“I know I do not deserve you. I know.” He pins your wrists against the sides of you, and he’s now between your thighs, on his knees, and you’re panicking. “I know you’re too good for me. I know it, goddammit you shouldn’t even let me touch you, but you want it too, don’t you.”

“N-no! Never!” He exhales, slipping up your skirts, and you let him, fuck you spread your thighs for him. “What on Earth are you doing!?”

“I’m going to lick you. And you’re going to cum so hard you’ll forget anything, anything in that pretty head but me.” He whispers, you’re soaked clean through those pantalets he’s ripped off you then, and you gasp. 

“No, you won’t… you can’t… don’t want you…”

“No? Then explain this.” He’s slid a thick digit in your already dripping entrance, and you’re screaming out in the rocking carriage, earning his moan, his look of desire, as his eyes watch you in the night, watch your heaving breasts pressed high in your corset. “Soaking wet little cunt.”

“You can’t, you don’t want me, remember!? Fuck! I don’t want you… mmm… I don’t, no… ah! Fuck you!” He’s barely moving a finger and you nearly cum at that, as your fingers itch to shove his face where it’s so close, as he’s kissing and biting your thighs.

“Please.” He begs, looking up, eyes still glossy, and fuck he looks good, fuck you hate that you want it, that you want to so badly you can’t imagine anything else feeling that good. “Let me feel your cum on my face, dripping down my lips, let me drink all of you, Duchess. Please.”

 He’s desperate, he’s whiny, he’s between your thighs just begging, his own breaths labored, as he’s curling that finger up, and your head falls back, dripping down on him. “You can’t. It’s not… right. You’ll… fuck your whores… you’ll…”

“Just once, let me.” His desperation makes his voice break, as his breath tickles you. “Let me devour you, let me fucking feel you.” His words, his eyes, the finger sliding against your damp folds, it’s too much.

You hate yourself. 

“F-fine, once. I won’t like it, I know I won’t.” You say with a glare, earning a smirk, and a quirked white brow.

“We’ll see about that, Princess.”

He spreads your puffy, aching lips then, and moans when he watches wetness dripping out of your little hole, pooling out of your entrance, then he bends down, sliding his tongue up you, and it feels so good you can’t stop your moan, as those gorgeous eyes look up, and he’s tasting you, his tongue flicking your clit, making it twitch under it, your thighs tightening.

“Fuck you taste so good.” He whispers, lovingly almost, what a joke right, then he’s not just licking you, he’s grabbing you by the fat of your ass, pressing you against the carriage seat, and he’s devouring you.

“Ohmy- ah- what!? I- f-fuck!” You scream out, your hands clinging to his shoulders desperately as he’s sliding his tongue in and out of your soppy entrance, fucking you with it, drinking you all in. Your hips buck up, earning his groan, as he thrusts his tongue in and out, his nose bumping your clit, making you a mess, making you so wet it’s stupid.

You’re so close so quick, you can scarcely hold it in, and when he looks up at you, and takes your hand, putting it on his hair, you feel so fucking powerful then, so desired. You grip his soft hair, hips arching up for more, pulling at his strands, as he moans against you, diving back down, then you’re done for, you’re destroyed, your tummy is clenching with so much pressure you can’t hold in.

You scream out as you cum all over Duke Gojo’s pretty face, and he’s gripping your thighs bruisingly, sucking your swollen clit into his mouth now, humming, as you cum so hard it’s blinding. It washes all over your entire body now, thighs shivering violently on either side of his head as he pulls back, licking his lower lip, covered in your arousal.

“That’s it, you love it don’t you pretty girl?” His words kill your last resolve, if cumming hadn’t, and they confuse you, as your eyes are lidded, as he teases your sensitive entrance with prodding fingers, eyes locked on your face.

“P-pretty… pretty…”

“You’re so pretty like this. Fuck you are so, so pretty, falling apart for me.” He’s sliding two fingers in now, pumping in and out, and you’re on that edge again, as he huffs, leaning up, a breath away. “Lick your sweet cunt off me.”

“Fuck.” You cling to him then, against any good goddamn judgment, as he’s rocking fingers up and down in your tight entrance, and he’s kissing you desperately, so fucking hungry. Your teeth click as he steals your breath, as your tongues swirl so goddamn messy, saliva mixing with your arousal, and you’re both rough and brutal against each other.

He pulls back, biting his lip and sliding a free hand up to your breast, squishing it and making you cry out. “Cum again pretty. Like a good little slut.”

“S-slut… fuck you… fuck!” He’s dived back down now, as the carriage jostles you both, serving to only shove his face further between the apex of your thighs, and you can hear him groan as he licks you from bottom to top, fingering you and licking you, all while his snowy lashes cover his pretty eyes, his face tilted to the side to hit the underside of your clit in quick flicks.

You can't hold it together, everything falls apart again, and this time you're clinging to that white hair, rocking your hips up fucking shameless. He slurps up your wetness, so goddamn obscene in this little carriage as you scream out - “Gojo, c-cumming!”

He pulls back, face glistening, still pressing on that little spongy spot that has you panting, vision darkened as the carriage rocks you both. “Satoru, call me Satoru when you cum.”

“I can’t, I hate you… we hate each… f-fuck you…” He leans up, kissing your breasts, nipping and biting as his fingers work you, so deep it's insane how they hit, the pressure more and more intense as it builds.

“Please just one time. Say my name.” He whispers, vulnerable and begging again, as he's worshiping your cunt, your body. Your body heaves as you struggle to breathe, to think. “Please, Princess…”

“Princess, stop it, stop saying it fuck!” You’re crying salty tears as you’re about to cum again for this horrible man, who is looking at you hungrily.

“You are one, fuck you are, and I'm nothing. Please. Scream my name for me while I feel you gush this sweetness.” He begs again, eyes so dilated they're hard to look at, you're dripping down the carriage seat. You shouldn't be doing this, you shouldn't… you're awful, he's horrible… 

“You’re-”

“I know. I know. Please.” He says again, dipping back down, looking up at you now, and it ends you, that hot, wet tip of his tongue flicking where you're sensitive and you can’t stop your back from arching, your hands from pulling him closer. “Say my name, please. Please.”

His whispers are tickling that clit, as he now sinks two fingers so deep, deeper than you’ve had something in you, pressing so deep it’s almost painful, but you want it, you want more. You want all of him, you even want that pretty cock against all your better judgment, thinking of it just makes you squish lewdly, makes him lick his lower lip hungrily.

“Once?” He nods, free hand pressing your thigh up, flounces of skirts dangling as he still his motions, as he watches you eagerly.

“Then make me cum, and I’ll say it.” He moans at that, lashes fluttering as he dives back down fully, using two fingers as he mouths your clit, and you’re dripping all the way down, so much you’re slippery, and you can’t take it, you are so on edge, as he’s building this intensity in your core, as you listen to his hoarse moans muffled by your cunt.

Satoru has you there again, this time even more intense, your building climax, as you buck up your hips, grinding on his face, before stopping yourself, only for him to pull back for just a moment. “No, Princess, keep doing it. Fuck my face. All those frustrations, please fucking do it, get them out on me.”

You sputter, but then moan and pull him against you, grinding on his beautiful face in the night, as his tongue laps and laps, and your cunt spasms around his fingers now, pulsating as it hits you, as it rocks in waves, and you scream it, fuck you scream it… “Satoru! Satoru!”

He groans, fucking you with his long fingers as you cum so hard, harder than you could imagine possible, fucking reeling and weak, head smacking the seat as you pull his face so tightly, as he’s suffocating against you, but his mouth never stops. His fingers keep pressing up, forcing you into another, blue eyes looking up as he watches you so intently, fall apart.

“Satoru!” You scream again, and finally he relents, leaving you weak and boneless, and he’s kissing you again, as you cling so hungry, as you realize that carriage stopped. “Satoru…” He cups your face, eyes swirling, as you swipe some of your wetness off him.

“I want you around my cock so goddamn bad. So bad. Fuck I’d do anything to feel her.” He whispers, and you can’t stop it, you just kiss him again, and before you know it, you’re out of the carriage in his arms, and he’s quickly walking you in as you cling to him, as your mouths don’t leave each other, not even to breathe, tongues in desperate strokes.

He presses you against the wall of the drawing room, yanking down your bodice now, and you gasp, eyes rolling back as he kisses and bites, as your cunt grinds where he’s so hard, as you want more impossibly more. And from him!? But you can’t remember a goddamn thing he did when he looks at you like that, when he cups your face, pressing you further.

“I need you, fuck I need you.” He says then, and you can’t respond, as your mind swirls. “Are you innocent still? I don’t even care, I won’t judge you, I just need to know if we take this to my bed or I fuck you here.”

As he’s whispering, you blink back tears, sucking in a breath. “We shouldn’t do this, Satoru.”

His eyes get heady, glazed over as he grinds again. “Fuck, my name on your lips?”

“Satoru I… I am still-”

“Your grace, your mistress and Lady Elaine are both here for you.” Satoru’s butler says then, clearing his throat, and it’s like someone threw a bucket of water all over you. Satoru looks in horror as he watches you break, as you shove and shove until he lets you go.

“I am stupid, you’re right.” You whisper then, running, and he’s running after you, shoving past the butler, and you run almost into them, those ladies giggling and sipping wine in your home.

But it’s not your home.

“Please, it was before this. I’ll send them home!” He pleads as he catches you on the stairway, and the ladies are scowling at you, making you so goddamn angry, you shove at him, and he yanks at you. “I want you! I want you!”

“You never did. It’s a game! That's all I am to you.” You sob uncontrollably, hunching over as he clutches you, and you wriggle in his hold. “I hate you!”

“I swear, I didn’t… I didn’t know we’d…” He cups your face then, gulping, his lips tremulous. “I had no clue I’d ever get you like this. I don’t want it to end, not this… I want tonight to be about you, about you only. Please.”

“You knew they’d be here! Is this funny to you? Toying with my goddamn emotions, making me think you could… we could… Ugh!” You shove past him again, running to your room in your pretty silver heels, clicking up the steps, lifting your skirts, and you hear those women now, making your blood boil.

“Duke Gojo-”

“Fuck off.” He shouts back, chasing you, but you’re already in your room, and you’re trying to shut it. “They’ll go home, I swear. Please, let me… let me just touch you more, taste you more. You can do nothing to me if you don’t want to. Please.” He’s pleading now, as you’re trying to shut the door on him, and you can barely look at him, it hurts so bad.

“It’s a game.”

“It’s not!”

“It all is to you. You mean to break me in other manners.”

“No I do not!”

“Then tell me, why do you hate me!? Why!?” He blinks then, opening his mouth, then exhaling, hands reaching for your face, hands that feel too perfect on your skin, hands that made you forget. “You cannot open up to me, you cannot do anything but confuse me. You go down there with them, have your fun, what do I even care, I’m nothing to you!”

“I want you goddammit, you! They’re nothing compared to you.” He speaks through gritted teeth, and you want to believe it, but you steel yourself, as much as you can, shaking your head. “I swear it. I swear it, let me show you…”

“You’ve made enough of a fool of me. Imagine me thinking you could be my first? After…” He pauses, eyes wide, and you shake with your emotion. “I’m an idiot. You were right.”

“I am the idiot. Fuck I know it. Please, give me tonight, please.” He keeps cupping your face, as you hear his women laughing.

“They laugh at me. I’m a joke.”

“You’re-”

“I am. A laughingstock. But at least before I had my dignity, now you strip even that away! Go, I shall never be a fool again.”

He growls, grabbing at you tightly. “Goddamit, stop this, just let me try!”

“I can’t take it. I can’t.” You sob harder as you finally shut the door on his forlorn face, and he’s smacking the door with an angry fist, as you gently touch the door where his hand is, resting your head on it. “I wish it was real.” You whisper, against your will, and you feel another thud on the door.

“Please let me in, please.”

“It hurts too goddamn much. Play your games with someone else. I can’t take this. I can’t.” You feel yourself losing control, and finally you’re sliding down the door, curling into a ball and sobbing, and it takes a long, long time to calm down, to stop banging on the door.

“Please, I’m begging you, open this door. Even if we… even if I just look at you, please.” Your eyes are so full of tears they burn, at his emotional voice, but it’s got to be an act, it’s got to be!

You’re stupid.

You’re so stupid.

You hate yourself for this.

How could you!?

You almost…

“It was real.” He whispers finally, before you hear one more punch at your door, then hear his thuds as he leaves. And your mind wracks, with what will happen, what you’ve done.

What have you done?

And was he in their arms, as you held yourself and cried?

Or was he truly…

You hear nothing that night, but who knows, what if they’re in the dining hall, in the kitchens… you hear nothing as you climb into your bed, aside from a sob ripped from Satoru Gojo’s throat. You sit up in the bed, heart pounding, talking yourself out of this, out of this folly.

He’s cruel.

It’s a game.

You’ve wronged Nanami Kento now.

Someone who really cares.

For what!?

You touch the cold wall of your room, where his bed is on the other side, a bed you’ve never slept in, a bed you’d have let him fuck you in tonight. How could you, how could you, stupid, stupid, stupid. Those women were waiting, and who knows, what if he was fucking them now!? 

What do you care!?

You care.

Fuck you care.

You stomp out of the room an hour later, throat so tight, Satoru always takes your goddamn breath, he never gives you oxygen, just pain, just confusion. You tense as you walk past his room, and you expect it, his women, but Satoru is alone in the night, in his bed, bare back strong as he shivers against the cold, his window wide open.

You hate when you step in, when you shut the window with a quiet click, and you see him sleep for the first time. You hate when you pull up his thick blue blankets over his bare upper body, when he moans in his sleep, and turns his head, so the moonlight illuminates his face. You hate when you caress his cheek with a finger, and you hate when his lips part with a sigh.

You hate how you want to kiss his forehead, you hate how you can’t find the proper way to be mad at him enough. You sigh then, blowing out the candle barely flickering by his bed, brushing soft white hair back one more time, before padding out quietly, shutting the door behind you, resting your back on it.

You can’t be feeling this. He’ll only make a fool of you. So what if he maybe sent them home early? What’s it matter? You should know better. You go back to your room then, laying in your gigantic bed, all alone, empty, as tears fall on your pillow, as you wonder if you should have let him in, but how can you?

Your eyes shut, and you flit from dream to dream, in flitful images, as the heavy weight in your heart fills, as you remember all he’s done, all he’s said, and how easily you almost forgot it with his kisses. His tongue. His eyes. The way Satoru consumed your mind, until it was nothing but him.

Who is Satoru Gojo, was he this cruel man or was he perhaps something more? Why do you care so much?

You finally cry yourself to sleep, dreading what the reality of tomorrow brings, and hating especially that you had to tell someone you care about that you’re horrible. Nanami’s handsome face makes your heart sink, as you realize you’ll lose him, and you’ve lost yourself, all for that man, a man you don’t know, a man who drowns you just existing.

A man that makes it so hard to breathe.

Until the next one dear masochistic readers <3

Part Seven

[paxtito]

fire and the thud.

pairings: wednesday x fem!reader

word count: 7683

warnings: smut, 18+. knives, grave digging, swearing, wednesday almost kills someone, fingering, kissing, lesbian sex (all characters are 18+)

summary: your mother, larissa, was good friends with morticia back in their days at nevermore. when you and wednesday were born, you were practically attached to the hip. but, your father wanted you to live with him for a while, leaving you and wednesday without contact until now. you’d come back from visiting your father in england to find that wednesday had been enrolled at nevermore.

a/n: this fanfic has really been through some shit, changed the title and outcome so many times but i’ve finally settled on this. apologies in advance for any errors and also the length

MASTERLIST

The heavy oak doors of Nevermore creak as you push them open, the familiar scent of old wood and faint lavender filling your senses. The school looks almost exactly the same as when you left it—high arches, dark stone corridors, the peculiar, warm-yet-foreboding atmosphere that clings to every corner. You never expected to be back so soon, certainly not so suddenly, but here you are. And it feels strange, like returning to some half-forgotten dream.

You adjust the strap of your bag on your shoulder, peering around the entrance hall. Somewhere above, the great clock ticks in its steady, methodical rhythm, echoing faintly down the halls. You’re looking for your mom, the Headmistress herself, but she’s nowhere in sight just yet. You smirk a little, wondering if she’s busy welcoming another batch of outcasts to her beloved school, as she likes to call them.

Then you hear footsteps, a soft, deliberate sound against the stone floor, and look up—freezing for just a second as your gaze lands on her.

Wednesday stands there, her face as pale and expressionless as ever, eyes watching you with an intensity you remember all too well. She hasn’t changed one bit, from the dark braids draped over her shoulders to the sharp, calculating gaze that seems to see right through you. She’s grown older, of course, taller maybe, but she’s exactly as you remember.

And you’d know her anywhere. After all, you practically grew up together—your mother, Larissa, and Morticia Addams were ‘best friends’ back in their Nevermore days. Some might say the two were as different as night and day, yet there was always a bond there, something that brought them back to each other despite the odds. And that bond, somehow, extended to you and Wednesday, two kids who had little choice but to spend time together while their mothers reconnected over tea and half-whispered memories of the past.

You take a hesitant step forward, feeling a strange swirl of nostalgia and nerves rise in your chest. “Wednesday?”

She tilts her head, her dark eyes assessing you coolly. “Back from England already?” Her voice is calm, as if no time has passed at all, like she’s still the same stoic, blunt child you remember.

“Surprise,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, though your heart is pounding.

There’s a moment of silence, charged with the weight of all the years you’ve been apart, and yet, something about it feels natural, like slipping back into an old habit.

“You look… different,” she says finally, her gaze sharp as ever as she sizes you up. “Taller.”

“So do you,” you reply, then add with a faint grin, “Except the taller part.”

She narrows her eyes at you in a way that only Wednesday could, but it’s almost… fond. “If I remember correctly, I was always the smarter one. Height is irrelevant.”

“Glad to see your sense of humor hasn’t improved,” you shoot back, grinning. It’s strange how quickly the old rhythm returns between you both, the teasing, the barbs exchanged without any real bite. It’s as if no time has passed at all.

Wednesday raises an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. "Your sense of humor has certainly deteriorated during your time abroad."

You roll your eyes, but can't help the smile tugging at your lips. "Maybe I just needed to be back among the living dead to rediscover it."

She snorts softly, the sound oddly endearing coming from her usually stoic demeanor. "I suppose being back at Nevermore will do that to a person."

As you stand there trading barbs, you can't help but let your gaze wander over her. She's still as pale as ever, her dark hair braided tightly against her skull. But there's a new edge to her, a sharpness that wasn't there before. It's in the set of her jaw, the way she holds herself with a quiet confidence that demands attention without saying a word.

"So," you say, breaking the silence that has fallen between you. "What have you been up to since I left? Still perfecting your taxidermy skills?"

A ghost of a smile flits across her lips. "Among other things. But some secrets are best kept buried."

You can't help but laugh at that. "Fair enough. I suppose I've got a few of my own to keep under wraps."

She tilts her head, studying you with those dark, penetrating eyes. "I'm sure you do. Though I must admit, I'm curious to hear about your adventures in the land of the living."

You shrug, trying to play it off as no big deal. "Not much to tell, really. Just your standard boring English school life.”

She arches an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "Somehow, I doubt that."

You sigh dramatically. "Fine, you got me. It wasn't all bad. Made some friends, learned a few things. But nothing compared to the excitement of Nevermore."

A genuine smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. "I'm glad to hear it. It would be a shame if you'd gone soft during your time away."

—

A few days have passed since your sudden return to Nevermore, and you're still adjusting to the odd juxtaposition of the familiar and the foreign. The school itself hasn't changed much, but you're older now, seeing it through different eyes. And then there's Wednesday, who seems to be everywhere you turn, her dark eyes following you like a specter.

It's late afternoon, and you're wandering through the grounds, trying to clear your head after a particularly dull history lecture. The air is crisp, the leaves crunching under your feet as you make your way towards an old oak tree.

As you approach, you see a figure already seated against the trunk, long legs stretched out, head bent over a book. Even from a distance, you recognize the shock of dark hair, the pale skin. Wednesday looks up as you draw near, her eyes narrowing slightly as she takes in your approach.

"I thought I might find you here," you say, settling yourself onto the ground beside her.

She doesn't move, just continues to stare at you, her gaze unreadable. "Did you?"

You shrug, plucking a leaf from the ground and twirling it between your fingers. "Call it intuition."

She watches the leaf spin for a moment before speaking. "I've been thinking about that day. The day you left."

You freeze, the leaf falling forgotten to the ground. You've tried not to think about that day too much, the way it felt to leave Wednesday behind, to step into a world that didn't understand you the way she did.

"Yeah?" you say, keeping your voice carefully neutral.

She nods, her eyes fixed on the horizon. "I remember standing at the window of my room, watching your car disappear into the distance. I remember thinking that I wouldn't see you again."

A lump forms in your throat, but you swallow it down. "And now here I am."

She turns to look at you then, her gaze intense. "Yes, here you are. But you're different. Older. Changed."

She falls silent then, her eyes drifting back to the distant horizon. You can see the tension in her jaw, the way her hands clench around the book in her lap. It's clear that whatever she's thinking, it's weighing on her.

Finally, she speaks, her voice low and steady. "I know we haven't spoken much since you returned. But I want you to know that... I'm glad you're back, Y/N."

The words catch you off guard, and you blink, trying to process them. Wednesday isn't exactly known for her emotional outpourings, and hearing her say those words feels... significant. Important.

Wednesday's words hang in the air between you, weighty and profound. You can feel the sincerity behind them, the depth of emotion that she usually keeps tightly locked away. It's a side of her that few people get to see, and you feel a rush of warmth in your chest at the thought that she trusts you enough to share it with you.

"I'm glad too," you say softly, meeting her gaze. "Gladder than I ever thought I'd be."

She looks away then, a faint blush coloring her pale cheeks. It's a rare sight, and you can't help but smile at the sight of it.

“Cute.”

Wednesday's blush deepens at your comment, and she shoots you a sharp glare. "I am not cute," she hisses, her voice low and dangerous. "Don't ever call me that again."

You hold up your hands in mock surrender, trying to keep the grin off your face. "Sorry, sorry. I meant 'formidable' or 'intimidating'. Those are much better descriptions of you, I'm sure."

She narrows her eyes at you, but there's a hint of something else in her gaze - a glimmer of amusement, perhaps, or maybe just a touch of affection. "You'd better believe it," she mutters, but there's no real bite to her words.

You settle back against the trunk of the tree, stretching your legs out in front of you. "So, what's new with you? Any exciting murder mysteries or occult rituals I should know about?"

Wednesday rolls her eyes, but there's a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Wouldn't you like to know? I'm afraid my secrets are safe with me."

"Damn," you sigh, feigning disappointment. "And here I thought we were friends."

She snorts softly, nudging you with her elbow. "We are friends, Y/N. But even friends have limits."

You grin at her, feeling a warmth spreading through your chest at the casual familiarity of the gesture. "Fair enough. I suppose I can respect that."

For a while, you sit in comfortable silence, watching the play of light through the leaves overhead. It's peaceful, in a way - just the two of you, lost in your own thoughts, content in each other's presence.

Wednesday's eyes drift shut for a moment, her face tilted towards the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves above. There's a softness to her features that you rarely see, a vulnerability that she only shows when she thinks no one is looking.

She's always been like that - guarded, cautious, quick to put up walls to keep people out. But with you, she lets her guard down just a little. It's a privilege, really, to be trusted with this side of her.

You watch her, committing every detail to memory. The way her dark lashes cast shadows on her pale cheeks, the slight parting of her lips as she breathes in the crisp autumn air.

A breeze rustles the leaves above, and Wednesday's eyes flutter open, fixing you with a questioning gaze. "What are you looking at?" she asks, her voice low and suspicious.

You shake your head, grinning. "Nothing. Just enjoying the scenery."

She narrows her eyes, but there's no real anger behind it. "You're strange, Y/N. You always have been."

"And you love it," you tease, nudging her back with your shoulder.

She doesn't deny it, just shrugs and turns her attention back to the book in her lap. But you can see the hint of a smile on her lips, the way her shoulders relax just a fraction.

It's in moments like these that you realize just how much you've missed her, how much a part of your life she's always been. And as you sit there, side by side beneath the old oak tree, you can't help but feel a sense of rightness, of belonging.

Whatever the future holds, whatever challenges lie ahead, you know that you'll face them together. You and Wednesday, the odd couple, the misfits, the outcasts. Together, you can weather any storm.

“Remember our little grave digging rendezvous? There’s an abandoned graveyard in the woods… Could pay it a visit tonight.”

Wednesday's head snaps up at your suggestion, her dark eyes wide with surprise. For a moment, she just stares at you, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.

"I thought you'd never ask," she purrs, her voice low and conspiratorial.

You can't help but grin at her enthusiastic response. "Thought you might be too busy with your taxidermy collection to spare a night for some good old-fashioned grave robbing."

She rolls her eyes, but there's a glint of amusement in her gaze. "Please. Taxidermy is a hobby, grave robbing is a lifestyle."

You laugh, shaking your head in mock disbelief. "Of course it is. I don't know why I even asked."

Wednesday leans in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Meet me at midnight by the old stone wall. Don't be late."

—

The sun has long since set by the time you make your way to the rendezvous point, the old stone wall looming ominously in the darkness. You can feel the chill in the air, the way it seeps into your bones and makes your breath mist in the night. It's the perfect weather for a little grave robbing, you muse to yourself, a wicked grin tugging at your lips.

As you approach the wall, you see a familiar figure waiting for you in the shadows. Wednesday is leaning against the stone, her dark hair a stark contrast against the gray of the wall. She's wearing all black, as usual, her pale skin almost glowing in the moonlight.

"Right on time," she says as you draw near, her voice low and teasing. "I was beginning to think you'd chickened out."

You scoff, rolling your eyes. "Please. Like that would ever happen."

She pushes off the wall, falling into step beside you as you make your way towards the woods.

The forest looms ahead, an impenetrable wall of darkness that seems to swallow the moonlight whole. Wednesday leads the way, her steps sure and confident even in the pitch black. You follow close behind, your heart pounding with a mix of excitement and trepidation.

As you venture deeper into the woods, the air grows colder, damper. The trees seem to press in around you, their branches reaching out like grasping fingers. You can feel the weight of the forest, the way it seems to pulse with a life of its own.

After what feels like an eternity, you break through the treeline and into a small clearing. Before you lies the graveyard, a jumble of crumbling headstones and weathered crypts. The place has an eerie stillness to it, as if the very air is holding its breath.

Wednesday grins at you, her eyes glinting with a manic light. "Welcome to our little slice of paradise," she says, gesturing grandly at the graveyard.

You stare at the graveyard, your heart racing. The crumbling headstones and weathered crypts seem to loom menacingly in the darkness, casting eerie shadows across the overgrown grass. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and decay, and you can't shake the feeling that you're being watched.

Wednesday seems oblivious to your unease, her eyes gleaming with excitement as she surveys the graveyard. "Isn't it beautiful?" she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. "All this history, all these stories, just waiting to be uncovered."

You swallow hard, trying to muster up some of her enthusiasm. "Sure," you manage, your voice coming out a little higher pitched than you intended. "Beautiful."

Wednesday turns to you, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Come on, Y/N. Where's your sense of adventure? This is what we've always dreamed of, isn't it? A chance to get our hands dirty, to delve into the unknown?"

You nod, trying to convince yourself as much as her. "You speak like a poet."

Wednesday grins at you, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Poetry is for the weak. I prefer the prose of the macabre."

She strides forward, her boots crunching on the dead leaves littering the ground. You hurry to keep up, your heart pounding in your chest as you weave between the headstones. Some are little more than crumbled ruins, the names and dates long since eroded away. Others stand tall and proud, their epitaphs still legible in the moonlight.

As you make your way deeper into the graveyard, you can't shake the feeling that you're being watched. The hairs on the back of your neck prickle, and you whirl around, half expecting to see some ghostly figure lurking in the shadows. But there's nothing there, just the endless rows of graves stretching out before you.

Wednesday, meanwhile, seems completely at ease. She moves through the graveyard like a cat, her steps silent and sure. Every so often, she pauses to examine a particularly interesting headstone, running her fingers over the engraved letters as if trying to read the secrets of the dead.

"Look at this one," she says, gesturing to a large, ornate tomb. "Elias Crane, died 1847. Apparently, he was a wealthy businessman. But rumor has it, he made his fortune through less than savory means."

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued despite yourself. "Such as?"

Wednesday leans in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Grave robbing. Body snatching. All the things respectable society frowns upon."

You can't help but grin at that. "Sounds like our kind of guy."

Wednesday nods, a wicked glint in her eye. "Exactly. I bet he's got some fascinating stories buried with him."

You put your backpack down, pulling out a plastic spade, one that is obviously meant for kids at the beach.

Wednesday's eyes widen as you pull out the child's spade, a mix of amusement and disappointment crossing her face. "Really, Y/N? A plastic shovel? I was expecting something a bit more... professional."

She reaches into her own bag, pulling out a sleek, black shovel that looks like it could double as a weapon. "This is how you do grave robbing.”

She strides over to the nearest grave, kneeling down beside the headstone. You hurry to follow, your plastic spade feeling woefully inadequate in comparison.

"Alright, let's see what secrets Mr. Crane is hiding," Wednesday murmurs, plunging her shovel into the soft earth.

You do the same, your spade making a hollow 'thunk' as it hits the ground. Wednesday shoots you a look, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

“My shovel is cuter.”

Wednesday snorts, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "Cuter? Really? We're going for aesthetics over functionality here?"

She shakes her head, but there's no real annoyance in her voice. If anything, she seems even more excited by the challenge.

"Alright then, Y/N. Let's see what you can do with that adorable little spade of yours."

With that, she plunges her own shovel into the ground, the blade slicing through the earth with a satisfying thud. You follow suit, your plastic spade making a far less impressive noise as it scrapes against the dirt.

For a while, the only sound is the steady rhythm of shoveling, punctuated by the occasional grunt of effort. Wednesday moves with a practiced ease, her movements efficient and precise. You, on the other hand, quickly find yourself winded, your arms burning with the unfamiliar exertion.

"Come on, Y/N," Wednesday calls over her shoulder, a teasing lilt to her voice. "Put some muscle into it. We're not here to dig a hole for a potted plant."

You grit your teeth, redoubling your efforts. Slowly, painfully, the hole begins to take shape, the walls of the grave yawning open like a hungry mouth.

As you work, you can't help but steal glances at Wednesday, marveling at the way she seems so completely in her element. Her pale skin glows in the moonlight, and there's a fierce determination in her eyes that takes your breath away.

"Watch it!" Wednesday yells suddenly, and you jerk back just in time to avoid smacking your shovel against hers. You stare down into the hole, which is now deep enough for you to stand in. The wooden coffin lies below, its surface covered in a layer of dirt and debris.

Wednesday tosses her shovel aside, dropping to her knees beside the grave. She runs her hands over the coffin, tracing the intricate carvings that adorn its surface.

Wednesday's eyes shine with excitement as she runs her hands over the ancient wood, tracing the intricate carvings etched into its surface. The coffin is clearly old, the once-polished finish now dulled by centuries of exposure to the elements.

"Look at this craftsmanship," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. "They just don't make them like this anymore."

You peer into the grave, your heart hammering in your chest. The idea of what lies inside the coffin is both thrilling and terrifying, a reminder of the fragility of life and the inevitability of death.

Wednesday seems oblivious to your apprehension, her attention focused solely on the task at hand. She pulls a small crowbar from her bag, wedging it between the lid of the coffin and its frame. With a grunt of effort, she pries the lid open, the ancient wood groaning in protest.

The smell that wafts up from the coffin is overwhelming - the cloying scent of decay, of earth and rot. You gag, stepping back from the edge of the grave. But Wednesday seems unaffected, leaning forward to peer inside.

"Well, well," she breathes, a note of excitement in her voice. "Looks like our friend Elias is still with us."

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to look into the coffin. The body inside is little more than a skeleton, clad in the tattered remains of a funeral suit. The flesh has long since rotted away, leaving only bones and a few scraps of leathery skin.

Wednesday reaches into the coffin, her slender fingers brushing against the yellowed bones. She lifts out a human femur, examining it with a critical eye.

"Fascinating," she murmurs, turning the bone over in her hands. "Look at the way the marrow cavity has collapsed. That suggests a prolonged period of exposure to the elements."

She carefully places the bone back inside the coffin, her expression thoughtful.

You just blink, unsure of what to do now. “Well, that was exhilarating.” You mutter, sarcasm etched in your tone.

The moonlight filters through the trees, casting an eerie glow over the graveyard. Wednesday turns to you, a mischievous glint in her dark eyes. "What's the matter, Y/N? Not quite the thrill you were hoping for?"

You can't help but smirk back at her, despite the unsettling nature of your surroundings. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe I'm just not cut out for the macabre after all."

Wednesday scoffs, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Don't be ridiculous. You're the one who suggested this little adventure in the first place."

You shrug, trying to project a nonchalance you don't quite feel. "I may have gotten carried away. But hey, at least we found something interesting, right?"

Wednesday's gaze lingers on you, her expression softening slightly. "Yeah, I guess so. Though I'm not sure what we're going to do with Elias now."

You glance back at the open coffin, a shiver running down your spine. "Maybe we should put him back? Seems only right, considering we disturbed his rest."

Wednesday nods, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Probably for the best. Wouldn't want to deal with the wrath of a vengeful spirit."

Together, you carefully lower the coffin lid, sealing Elias back in his eternal slumber. As you brush the dirt back over the grave, you can't help but feel a sense of relief, a sudden desire to leave this place behind.

But as you turn to go, you find yourself face to face with Wednesday, her eyes wide and searching in the moonlight. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the air between you crackling with tension.

"Y/N," she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. "There's something I've been wanting to say..."

Your heart pounds in your chest, your breath catching in your throat. You know what's coming, have known for a long time, but hearing her say it out loud is still a shock.

Before you can utter a response, Wednesday closes the distance between you, her cool fingers curling around the back of your neck. She pulls you closer, her eyes locked on yours, a swirling vortex of emotions - longing, desire, and a hint of vulnerability.

Her lips brush against yours, soft and tentative at first, then with growing confidence and passion. You melt into the kiss, your arms encircling her waist, pulling her flush against you. The world falls away, the graveyard and the dead forgotten as you lose yourself in the taste and feel of her.

Wednesday's lips are cool and sweet against yours, her tongue darting out to trace the seam of your mouth. You part your lips, granting her access, and she takes full advantage, deepening the kiss with a low moan. Your tongues dance and twine, a sensual battle for dominance that leaves you both breathless.

When she finally pulls back, you're both panting, your hearts racing in sync. Wednesday's eyes are dark with desire, her cheeks flushed a delicate pink. She rests her forehead against yours, her voice husky and low.

"I've wanted to do that for so long, Y/N. I hope I didn't misread the signs."

You chuckle softly, your fingers tangling in her silky hair. "Not at all. I've been waiting for this too."

You and Wednesday are still caught up in the afterglow of your first kiss, your bodies pressed close, when a sudden noise shatters the silence of the graveyard. It's a rustling sound, the crunch of dead leaves underfoot, and it's coming from the direction of the woods.

Wednesday's head snaps up, her eyes narrowing as she scans the treeline. "Did you hear that?" she whispers, her voice tense with suspicion.

You nod, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest. "It sounded like it came from over there."

Wednesday reaches into her bag, pulling out a small, wicked-looking knife. She hands it to you, her grip tight and urgent. "Just in case."

You take the knife, your fingers closing around the smooth handle. The blade gleams in the moonlight, its edge honed to a razor's sharpness.

Together, you creep towards the source of the noise, your footsteps muffled by the thick carpet of dead leaves. As you draw closer to the woods, you can hear the sound more clearly now - a low, guttural moan, followed by the unmistakable sound of retching.

Wednesday holds up a hand, signaling for you to stop. She points to a shadowy figure, hunched over just beyond the edge of the trees. The figure is swaying slightly, as if drunk or disoriented, and you can see the glint of a bottle in its hand.

"Looks like we've got ourselves a drunk," Wednesday murmurs, a hint of disgust in her voice. "Probably some vagrant who thought he'd find shelter in the woods."

You're about to suggest leaving the man be when he suddenly staggers forward, his eyes wide and wild as they lock onto yours. He lets out a low, animalistic growl, raising the bottle like a weapon.

"Hey, man, some of us are trying to sleep here!" he slurs, taking a stumbling step towards you. "Why don't you and your little girlfriend fuck off?"

Before you can react, Wednesday lurches forward, her hand outstretched. She aims the knife at the man's throat, her eyes narrowed.

The drunk man's eyes widen in fear as he sees the knife, his bravado evaporating like mist in the moonlight. He stumbles backwards, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to get away.

You move forward, your hand gripping over Wednesday’s, stopping her from going too far. “No.”

Wednesday hesitates, her grip on the knife faltering. She looks at you, confusion and frustration warring in her eyes. "What are you doing?" she hisses, her voice low and urgent. "We can't just let him get away. Who knows what he might do?"

The drunk man stumbles further back, his eyes darting between you and Wednesday. "Hey, look, I don't want any trouble, alright?" he says, his voice shaking. "I'm just trying to find a place to sleep, that's all. I didn't mean no harm."

Wednesday scoffs, her grip tightening on the knife once more. "Oh, and I suppose disturbing our private moment is no harm done? I don't think so."

The man's eyes widen in panic as he realizes the precariousness of his situation. He raises his hands in a placating gesture, the bottle still clutched in one trembling fist.

"Please, I'm sorry, I'll go, I won't bother you again, just please don't hurt me," he babbles, his words slurring together in his haste.

Wednesday's jaw clenches, her eyes narrowing to slits. She takes a step forward, the knife glinting in the moonlight.

"You should have thought of that before you interrupted us," she snarls, her voice dripping with venom.

The man's eyes dart to you, pleading for help, for mercy. You can see the terror in his gaze, the knowledge that he is completely at the mercy of these two strange girls.

“Goddamn it, Wednesday. Stop it.”

Wednesday's grip on the knife loosens slightly at your command, but she doesn't lower it. Her eyes are still fixed on the drunk man, her expression a mix of anger and contempt.

"Why should we stop?" she hisses, her voice low and dangerous. "He's just some pathetic vagrant. No one will miss him."

The man's eyes widen in fear, his body trembling as he backs away from you both. "Please," he whimpers, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want any trouble. I'll leave, I swear."

You step forward, gently placing a hand on Wednesday's arm. The touch is light, but the gesture is clear - a plea for her to stand down, to show mercy.

Wednesday's eyes flick to you, surprise and confusion written across her face. She's so focused on the drunk man that she hadn't expected your intervention.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" she asks, her voice a low, dangerous purr. "This man needs to be taught a lesson."

The drunk man takes another stumbling step backwards, his eyes darting between you and Wednesday in terror. He's clearly aware of the precariousness of his situation, the thin line between life and death that he's currently balancing on.

For a moment, Wednesday seems torn, her gaze flickering between you and the drunk man. You can see the conflict in her eyes, the war between her darker impulses and the bond she shares with you.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, Wednesday lowers the knife. She lets out a long, shuddering breath, her shoulders slumping slightly. "Fine," she says, her voice tight. "But if he steps out of line again, he's fair game."

The drunk man lets out a shaky sigh of relief, his body sagging with the realization that he's been spared. "Thank you," he mumbles, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I'll go, I promise. Just please, no more trouble."

He turns and staggers off into the woods, his footsteps crunching on the dead leaves. You watch him go, a sense of unease settling in your stomach.

You can't help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation, a nervous energy buzzing through your veins. "Where did you even get that knife, Wednesday? I didn't realize you were packing heat on our little graveyard rendezvous."

Wednesday's lips quirk into a wry smile, her eyes glinting with mischief in the moonlight. "Always be prepared, Y/N. You never know when you might need a little... protection." She tucks the knife back into her bag with practiced ease, her movements fluid and graceful.

You shake your head, a mix of amusement and exasperation coloring your voice. "I swear, sometimes I think you're just looking for an excuse to use that thing. What would your parents say if they knew?"

Wednesday scoffs, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Please. They'd probably be proud. 'Our little girl, all grown up and ready to defend herself.' Besides, it's not like we actually used it."

You can't argue with that logic, even as a shiver runs down your spine at the thought of what might have happened if you hadn't intervened. "True enough. But maybe next time, let's stick to less... lethal forms of self-defense, hmm?"

Wednesday shrugs, her expression unrepentant. "Can't make any promises. But I'll try to keep my bloodlust in check, for your sake."

Despite the morbid humor of the situation, you can't help but feel a surge of affection for Wednesday. Her dark sense of humor, her fierce protectiveness, her willingness to embrace the macabre - it's all part of what draws you to her.

You step closer to her, your hand finding hers in the darkness. "Come on," you murmur, tugging her gently towards the edge of the graveyard. "Let's get out of here before anyone else decides to crash our party."

—

The heavy door of the dorm room creaks open, revealing the dimly lit space within. Wednesday stumbles inside, pulling you along with her. Her lips never leave yours as she kicks the door shut behind you, her hands roaming eagerly over your body.

You're lost in the moment, your senses overwhelmed by the feeling of her mouth on yours, the press of her body against yours. It's only when you feel the edge of the bed hit the back of your knees that you break the kiss, gasping for air.

Wednesday's eyes are dark with desire, her hair mussed and her lips swollen from your passionate embrace. She tugs at your shirt, her fingers fumbling with the buttons in her haste to get it off.

"Wednesday, wait," you breathe, your voice husky with need. "Are you sure about this?"

She pauses, her eyes meeting yours in the dim light. There's a flicker of uncertainty in their depths, a moment of hesitation. But then she's pressing against you again, her mouth finding yours once more.

"I've never been more sure of anything," she murmurs against your lips. "I want you, Y/N. I've wanted you for so long."

You surrender to the moment, your hands tangling in her hair as you deepen the kiss. Clothes are shed in a flurry of fabric, landing haphazardly on the floor as you tumble onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and heated skin.

A soft groan, followed by the rustle of sheets, startles you both out of your passionate haze.

"W-Wednesday?" a sleepy voice mumbles. "Is that you?"

Wednesday's eyes widen in horror, her face flushing crimson as she realizes the mistake she's made, scrambling to cover herself with the nearest piece of clothing.

“Oh, hey, Enid.” You smile, trying to appear nonchalant.

Enid sits up in her bed, rubbing her eyes sleepily. She blinks a few times, her gaze adjusting to the dim light. When she focuses on you and Wednesday, her eyes widen in surprise.

"Oh, um, hi," she stammers, her cheeks flushing pink. "I didn't realize you two were... I mean, I thought..."

There's an awkward silence, broken only by the sound of Wednesday's heavy breathing and the distant chirping of crickets outside.

Enid clears her throat, pulling the blanket up higher around her shoulders. "So, uh, are you two going to...?" She trails off, her eyes widening as she realizes the implications of her question.

Wednesday's face is beet red, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape. "No!" she blurts out, her voice uncharacteristically high-pitched. "We weren't going to... I mean, we weren't..."

Enid's eyes widen, her mouth falling open in shock. "Wednesday, are you... are you blushing?"

Wednesday scowls, crossing her arms defensively over her chest. "I am not blushing," she snaps, her voice tight with embarrassment. "I just... I didn't expect you to be awake at this hour."

Enid blinks, her expression softening. "It's okay, Wednesday. I'm not judging. I'm happy for you, really." She smiles, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "I always knew you had a thing for Y/N."

—

Since that night in the dorm room, things had been undeniably awkward between you and Wednesday. The air was thick with unresolved tension, the memory of passionate kisses and wandering hands lingering like a ghost in the room. You couldn't look at her without feeling a flush creep up your neck, your heart racing at the slightest brush of her fingers against yours.

Even Enid seemed to notice the change in your dynamic, her knowing smiles and raised eyebrows a constant reminder of the unspoken desire simmering beneath the surface. You tried to focus on your classes, to push aside the distracting thoughts of Wednesday's lips on yours, but it was a losing battle.

As you walked down the hallway towards your next class, your mind was miles away, replaying the events of that fateful night. Wednesday's touch, her breathless moans, the way her body had felt pressed against yours...

Suddenly, you felt a hand grab your wrist, yanking you roughly into a nearby janitor's closet. The door slammed shut behind you, plunging you into darkness. You stumbled, your heart leaping into your throat as you struggled to make out the silhouette of your attacker.

"Do you have any idea how hard it's been for me to focus on anything since that night?" a familiar voice growled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

Your eyes adjusted to the dim light, revealing Wednesday's face, etched with a mixture of frustration and desire. She stepped closer, her body mere inches from yours, her breath hot against your cheek.

"I can't stop thinking about you, Y/N," she whispered, her voice low and urgent. "Every time I close my eyes, all I can see is your face, feel your touch..."

Her hands slid up your arms, her fingers digging into your skin as she pulled you closer. "Tell me you feel it too," she breathed, her lips brushing against your ear. "Tell me you want me as much as I want you."

You feel Wednesday's breath on your ear, her words sending a jolt of electricity through your body. The suddenness of her actions catches you off guard, but the desire in her voice is undeniable.

"I... I do," you manage to stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. "I've been thinking about you too, Wednesday. Nonstop."

Wednesday's hands slide down your sides, her touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. She presses you back against the wall, her body molding to yours in a way that makes your head spin.

"Then why haven't you done anything about it?" she demands, her voice a low growl. "Why have you been avoiding me?"

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. "I wasn't... I mean, I didn't think..."

Wednesday cuts you off with a searing kiss, her lips claiming yours with a hunger that takes your breath away. You melt into her, your hands tangling in her hair as you lose yourself in the sensation of her mouth on yours.

When she finally pulls away, you're both breathing hard, your chests heaving against each other. "I can't wait anymore," Wednesday pants, her eyes wild with need. "I need you, Y/N. Right here, right now."

Your mind races, the implications of her words sinking in. You're not in your dorm room, where you can take your time, explore each other at a leisurely pace. You're in a janitor's closet, surrounded by cleaning supplies and the faint scent of bleach.

But the desire in Wednesday's eyes, the way her body is pressed against yours, makes it hard to think straight. Your hands slide down to her waist, your fingers digging into her hips as you pull her closer.

"We shouldn't..." you start, even as your body betrays you, arching into her touch.

Wednesday silences you with another kiss, her tongue delving into your mouth as her hands roam over your body with a desperate urgency. "Don't think," she breathes against your lips. "Just feel."

Wednesday's hands slide under your shirt, her fingers skimming over the smooth skin of your stomach. You gasp, your back arching off the wall as she trails her touch higher, brushing against the soft swell of your breasts.

"Wednesday," you moan, your voice breathy with need. "We can't... not here..."

But even as the words leave your lips, you're arching into her touch, your body betraying your true desires. Wednesday's mouth finds your neck, her teeth grazing against your pulse point as she sucks and nips at the sensitive skin.

Your head falls back, your eyes fluttering closed as you lose yourself in the sensation. Wednesday's hands are everywhere, sliding under your clothes, mapping the curves of your body with a desperate hunger.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you're about to do. With a sudden burst of strength, you reverse your positions, pinning Wednesday against the wall with your body. She lets out a surprised gasp, her eyes widening as she looks up at you with a mix of shock and desire.

"My turn," you murmur, your voice low and commanding. Your hands slide under her shirt, your fingers skimming over the smooth expanse of her stomach. Wednesday shivers, her skin breaking out in goosebumps under your touch.

You lean in, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. Wednesday moans into your mouth, her hands fisting in your hair as she pulls you closer. Your tongues tangle together, the kiss growing more heated with each passing second.

Your hands continue their exploration, sliding up to cup Wednesday's breasts through her bra. She arches into your touch, her nipples hardening under your palms. You break the kiss, trailing your lips down her neck, your teeth grazing against her pulse point.

Wednesday's breath comes in short, sharp gasps, her body trembling with need. "Please," she whimpers, her voice barely above a whisper. "Touch me, Y/N. I need you."

Your fingers find the clasp of her bra, undoing it with a deft flick. The garment falls away, exposing her breasts to your hungry gaze. You lower your head, your tongue swirling around one hardened peak.

Wednesday cries out, her back arching off the wall as you lavish attention on her breasts. Your hands slide down her body, tugging at the waistband of her skirt.

With a swift movement, you yank the garment down, leaving Wednesday in nothing but her panties. She steps out of the pool of fabric, her legs trembling with anticipation.

Your hands slide up her thighs, your fingers hooking into the waistband of her underwear. With a slow, deliberate movement, you tug them down, revealing her most intimate parts to your eager gaze.

Wednesday is bare before you, her body laid out like a feast for the taking. You take a moment to admire her, your eyes drinking in every feature.

Wednesday's breath hitches as you drink in the sight of her, her body quivering under your appraising gaze. The air between you is electric, charged with a heady mix of desire and anticipation.

You step closer, your body pressing against hers in a delicious friction that sends sparks racing through your veins. Wednesday's hands come up to rest on your shoulders, her fingers digging into your skin as she anchors herself to you.

"Please," she breathes, her voice a desperate whimper. "I need you, Y/N. I've been dreaming of this moment for so long."

Your hand slides between her legs, your fingers brushing against the slick heat of her core. Wednesday gasps, her hips bucking forward, seeking more of your touch. You tease her, your fingers dipping just barely inside before retreating, driving her wild with need.

Wednesday's breath comes in short, sharp gasps as your fingers tease her most sensitive spots. Her hips grind against your hand, seeking more of your touch, more of the delicious friction that's building inside her.

You can feel the heat of her, the slickness coating your fingers as you work her higher and higher. Wednesday's head thrashes from side to side, her eyes squeezed shut as she loses herself in the pleasure.

"Don't stop," she whimpers, her voice a desperate plea. "Please, Y/N, don't stop."

Your fingers plunge deeper, curling inside her in a way that makes her see stars. Wednesday's back arches off the wall, her nails digging into your shoulders as she rides the wave of sensation.

You can feel her tightening around your fingers, her body tensing as she nears the edge. You double your efforts, your thumb finding the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs.

Wednesday's cry echoes off the walls of the small closet, her body shaking as the orgasm crashes over her. She clings to you, her nails leaving crescent-shaped marks on your skin as she rides out the waves of pleasure.

You hold her through it, your hand gentle as you help her down from the high. When she finally stills, you pull your hand away, bringing your fingers to your lips. You lick them clean, savoring the taste of her on your tongue.

The taste of Wednesday on your fingers is exquisite, a heady mix of sweet and salty that makes your head spin. You savor it for a long moment, your eyes locked with hers as you lick them clean.

Wednesday's body is still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm when you pull your fingers from her slick heat. The taste of her essence lingers on your tongue, a tantalizing reminder of what you've just shared.

You meet her gaze, your eyes dark with desire and satisfaction. "I should get going," you murmur, regret tinging your voice. "I don't want to be late for class."

Wednesday nods, her breath still coming in short, sharp gasps. She reaches out, her fingers tangling in your hair as she pulls you in for one last, searing kiss.

"Until next time," she whispers against your lips, her voice a promise of things to come.

—

[lqveharrington]

So American | D.M.

summary: You and Draco have a lazy day. However, you and Draco take your teas differently.

pairing: draco malfoy x american!reader

includes: MAJOR FLUFF, kissing, teasing, playful bantering

a/n: i was listening to olivia rodrigo.

When you first moved to the United Kingdom to further your studies on witchcraft and wizardry, you didn’t expect to fall head over heels. Especially when that person wasn’t know for their behavior back at Hogwarts; At least that’s what you heard from your co-workers. You didn’t believe that he — the sweetest nurse at St. Mungo’s — could be so cruel to the Harry Potter.

But when you found yourself getting closer to the Brit, you couldn’t help but ask him his reasoning. It wasn’t like you asked with malicious intent, and luckily he didn’t view it as such. He simply stated that he was young and stupid, making you stifle a laugh. From there, your friendship with the blonde deepened and blossomed into a steady relationship.

There were often days where you both worked on such a tight schedule at St Mungo’s, but on some occasions, you were both scheduled to have the same day off. These special days were entitled: Lazy Days. Quite original.

Lazy days were a familiar routine. The both of you would stay in bed as long as you could until you were starving and then lay on the couch reading a book until it was tea time. Something you had gotten accustomed to.

However, tea to you was different to people from England.

“Dray?” You yawn softly as he ran his fingers up and down your back. You finished reading a chapter a while ago and just wanted to be in the present until 4:30, which was when Draco would get up and prepare tea for the both of you.

Draco hummed in response to you calling out for him, gaze lifting from his book to your tired eyes. “My love?”

“I’m cold.” You pull on your blanket tighter and give him a sheepish smile. “Sorry, you can continue reading.”

“You’re cute, you know that?” He set his book down and pulled you into his arms so you were comfortably straddling him. He pulled the blanket around the both of you as you easily tucked your head in his neck.

“You feel warm.” You hum into his neck, hands finding his shirt and slipping underneath. “Super warm.”

He chuckled softly, pulling his head back to take a look at your tired face. His eyes did a full sweep of you. From the stray strands of hair sticking to your forehead to the curves of your face.

“D’you wanna come with me to make tea?”

You shiver when his hands slip under your top and around your waist, a contrast to his other body parts. You move your head back into his neck, nodding softly at the question.

“Of course.”

Draco kissed your cheek and removed the blanket covering the both of you with ease. He secured his hands underneath your thighs and made his way over to the kitchen, setting you on top of one of the counters.

“Counter’s cold.” You grumble as you tuck your hands into your arms in attempts to warm your body from the freezing granite.

“M’sorry.” Draco gave you sorry smile and brought his hands down to your thighs and gentle rubbed to warm you. “Better?”

You smile warmly at him and let him go back to his tasks as the kettle whistles at you. This was always one of your favorite sights. Just the domesticated life you and Draco led outside of witchcraft and wizardry, well, as much as you could.

“Can you add creamer to mine?” You murmur and wince when you hear him drop the tea spoon into the cup itself, causing a loud clunk to ring out. You knew this was going to happen, it happened every time.

He looked up and glanced at you from the corner of his eye before blinking. “No.”

“Dray.” You huff, watching him stir in the sugar for the both of you. “Please.”

“Creamer is for coffee. You can have honey with your tea.” He opened the refrigerator for the honey. “Here.”

In horrible attempts, you tried to grab the creamer from the fridge but get pulled away by Draco himself. Rolling your eyes, you squirm and try escaping but no avail.

“Draco, you can have it with honey or whatever you put in your tea. I want creamer in mine.” You cross your arms, tilting your head up the slightest bit to face him. You watched him look at you with absolutely no emotion, hands still keeping you in place.

You pouted jokingly, making yourself seem cuter than normal. Draco raised a brow at you and shook his head, making you pout even more.

“Please.” You rest your forehead on his chest and feel his arms encase your body. “Just this once.”

After a beat, you hear Draco sigh and you know you’ve won him over, even if it hurts his poor Brit heart.

“You’re so American, my love.” Draco kissed the top of your head and opened the fridge for the creamer, handing it to you. “I’ll get you to convert eventually. You are living here now.”

“I’ll make you move to the states with me.” You cheekily reply, kissing his cheek. “I love you, Dray.”

He rolled his eyes and squeezed your hip as you poured creamer into your tea, watching the transparent liquid change. “I love you too, you American.”

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[boolger]

A lapdog at a farm - chapter 1

AO3 link. next chapter -> Call of duty. Explicit, 18+, minors do not interact. read the tags. wc: 4,147

Farmer!John Price x Hybrid!Reader, hybrid! Kyle Gaz Garrick x hybrid! Johnny Soap MacTavish x hybrid! Simon Ghost, John Price x Nikolai.

Summary: When Price was young and left his childhood home, a farm in the middle of nowhere in England, he didn’t enter the military. Instead he moved to London, got a degree and a good career, earning good money. He got you, a human dog hybrid as a pet, after feeling lonely - and you lived your best life for years, spoiled and pampered, Price’s lapdog who got praised at every party. Loved and fucked every night. That was until Price decided to return to his roots and go back to farming - dragging you along to the middle of nowhere, away from all the wonders of the big city. Expecting you to accept this sudden change in lifestyle and pretend to be a farm dog. Bad luck however, because you fucking hated it, and became more and more unruly. In hopes of getting you to calm down and to keep his live-stock and farm safe, Price then got three working dog hybrids - and all at once, your life was even worse than before.

tags: Rape/non-con elements, dub-con, dog!hybrid!people being kept as pets, alternative universe - farm, dark, farmer!John Price, working-dogs, punishments, mating cycles/rut/heat (no omegaverse), the dove isn't dead but its dying, reader is a brat, knotting, animal tails and ears, mentions of trauma, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, collars, rough sex, breeding kink, biting, threesome, foursome, everyone is fucking your honor, enemies to lovers, chubby reader, reader has a pussy

author's note: Hi sinners <33 Just a heads up; the reader is gonna be a spoiled brat. If you want a smart and sweet reader who isn’t mean at times, well. Bad news. This ain’t it.🥰The reader is she / her and has a pussy and is chubby. I tried my best to keep the descriptions somewhat vague otherwise. Reader is a cocker spaniel hybrid. I will tell the others along the way. In this universe, hybrids have ears, tail, claws beneath nails and canine fangs. There will be heats and ruts but there is no omegaverse. They will have personality traits of their dog breed and so on. Now. I know there aren’t wild wolves in the UK… but in this fic there is, ok? mwah.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

The countryside was peaceful compared to the city; the absence of the bustling streets and constant traffic, created a quietness that was indescribable.

Out here, at the new farm, the noises only came from animals that lived in the stables and barn or the occasional rumble as a tractor turned on. The wind caressed the never ending fields of wheat and the long rows of fruit trees, under which the goats and sheep walked most days.

The stress here wasn’t the same kind as in the city. Sure , there were stressful moments and sometimes Price looked like he needed to sleep for more than just the few hours he got everyday.

But he didn’t have to worry about the morning traffic, waiting in a queue for an overpriced, questionable tea or coffee. There was no need for him to wear a suit, no noisy, overfilled train cars in the underground. No crowded dog or hybrid parks, no meetings or rules to follow - except those John Price decided for himself.

He was happy, so much was clear to you. It had been three months since the move - Johnhad gone back to his roots, buying back the farm that his parents had used to own a little while ago, using some of his endless wealth on renovating the place. There was no step on the stairs that was loose, like it used to when he was a kid - sure they still creaked, but you weren’t afraid they would disappear from beneath you.

It was modernized, but most of the old charm left. Price fit right in; the furniture he had inherited and never believed he would use was suddenly in the living room. His knowledge of the business world was abandoned in the city, for the knowledge of farming that he still had left from his youth. John got a couple of farm hands and workers, who helped him with the big place.

It was like he reclaimed his own self that had been buried beneath the suits, ties and paperwork. Now he didn’t smoke his cigars from stress, but from pleasure, clearly much content.

It was like the farm had truly made John Price happy once more; his smiles more genuine, his true self stepping forth. Returning to his childhood home and taking over the farm had been the best decision Price had made. There was no question about it.

… and you hated every bloody day at the farm.

The early morning hours in bed with him, being disturbed by the farm waking up, the rooster crowing and John leaving the bed, giving you a pat in between your ears, taking all the heat with him. The constant bugs, the muddy stables and the big animals, the helpers who always teased you for not fitting in, the lack of friends you had out here. The foxes’ screams in the night, the wolves howling, and the cows occasionally mooing sounded like creatures stepping out of nightmares.

You were not made for farm life. Literally. Simply not made for it.

Some would argue that you, as a hybrid pet, didn’t have a say in it and sure , legally you didn’t. But you were a lapdog, an elegant pet. Not a farm dog. Created to be cared for and cuddled, you were a purebred cocker spaniel hybrid; you weren’t made to run around on a farm, following John on his duties And doing work. 

Sure, you had the instincts to hunt a few things here and there, but it was mostly balls and the occasional bird or squirrel. You weren’t a guard hybrid, not really a working dog.

You had had enough trauma throughout your life - you deserved not to be forced into this! You had grown up being trained to be a lapdog, not a working-dog like you felt like John expected you to act like now.

You wanted John to be happy, you really did - you loved your Master! When he bought you a few years ago, when you were still aggressive and unruly (… more than now at least), you had thought he would tire of you like everybody else had. But with patience, rules, training, praise and punishment and a whole lot of sex later, you were a perfect hybrid pet for the city! People always praised how well you looked, laughing when Price said you were really a little troublemaker. You would follow him throughout the fancy apartment, on your daily walks, sometimes for meetings.

But why the fuck did it have to be a farm? He worked somwwhat the same time that he did before, genuinely seeming to enjoy himself. Forgetting about poor you!

Out here, there were no hybrid daycare that you would go to when he had long days, there were none of your playmates nearby, everything stank of animals and there were no places nearby for you to get your hair and fur styled and pampered! No nail technicians, no fancy cafes, no shops for John to buy you things in! No special made coffee or chef-made meals every other evening, no freshly baked croissants.

You felt like you had tried . You really had. 

But after the first week, you had your first breakdown - and as the weeks passed, they didn’t stop. At first, John was sympathetic, like the perfect owner he was.

Cooing at you, kissing your forehead, as he gently scratched your ears. Kissing away any tears, saying it was okay - that you were just overwhelmed, that it would be okay. That you would come to like it out here.

Big fucking joke.

He had tried every trick in the book, in an attempt to please you and made you less upset, but as days turned into weeks and tantrums began to appear, you knew his patience began to disappear.

He followed professional advice and then the advice of the neighbors down the street, Rodolfo and Alejandro (who had caught you running away at one point), tried some of the workers’ advice. He had given you your own room, and it was mostly designed like your own, perfect to the pale green paint on the wall, all your toys and dog beds, your CDs - everything. He had tried hauling you along every day, trying to give you a routine to follow - but after two weeks, he gave up, not having the energy to deal with a tantrum that got worse and worse each day. He went on walks with you, fucked you silly, tried his best — and you didn’t want it.

No, you wanted to go back to your old life. Not this country life that you hadn’t signed up for, with horses that neighed loudly whenever you passed them; they were definitely going to trample you at the first chance, you knew that. You could hear foxes scream in the night, warning you of the dangers. The goats and sheep were so fucking loud and no you didn’t want to go pick fresh apples off the trees - had he seen the size of the spiders crawling on them?

When you in one of your biggest tantrums took off and bolted from the farm in distress, Rodolfo and Alejandro had almost hit you when you emerged from the corn fields onto the road. 

You had cried the entire drive home, no matter what the two men had tried saying, especially as Rodolfo called Price in advance — your master was livid . The worst thing was, that it was not that kind of anger where he yelled at you before punishing you - no, this one was almost silent, a sharp grip on your collar as he dragged you along after thanking his neighbours.

He had belted you then, ignoring your crying and screaming, only stopping when you broke, sobbing and going quiet. He had explained it to you then, what could have happened, what dangers you could have ended in - and as you sobbingly apologized and tried to explain, that you wanted to go back to the city, John had sighed .

Said that he had pampered you too much since he got you, which had made you greedy and attention seeking. Which only made you cry more, as you hid your face in his neck, fingers digging into his shirt, ass cheeks burning.

“Spoiled rotten, little birdie,” he mused, though you could hear the softness in him, your tail wagging a little, hoping to get him to be less mad.

“‘M sorry,” you had whined in distress, upset with yourself as well, ears tipping down, “wanna be good but I don’t like it.”

Your rather dull escape attempt resulted in several things. An AirTag on your collar, so that he always knew where you were. A remarkable lack of treats, sex and then… the crate .

You fucking hated the dog crate. 

Sure, it hadn’t been nice of you to bite one of his pillows into a simple pulp of fabric, feathers everywhere. Or create chaos in the kitchen… or get drunk on his fancy whiskey (that one had ended worse for you, hangover was a bitch and there wasn’t much sympathy from John). And yes, you might have ripped most of the flowers surrounding the house up, until one of the workers had caught you. Maybe pissing yourself in the middle of the living room while staring him in the eyes and ignoring his warnings had been a little…excessive. 

But the dog crate? You hated that thing with a burning passion. 

Hated it when he locked you up, ignoring your whimpers and whines, your promises to behave, ignoring your little howls as he left. 

Mean. The farm had made him mean. Perhaps you had become a bit unruly too, but it was like he didn’t take your clear suffering seriously.

Mean and happy - unruly and suffering. What a pair you were. One of the workers, KAte Laswell, who was a big helper and often stayed over for dinner, suggested a fucking shock collar. You had growled, only stopped when John sent you a sharp look. 

You had even heard him talking over the phone with somebody, saying that he didn’t want to rehome you, but he didn’t know what to do.

That had made you melt a little and you had cried as you had crawled into his bed a couple of hours later, begging him to not abandon you. Fears of never getting to see John again or being loved again by him made you cling onto him as he kissed away your tears, gently fucking you.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

It was a random morning a couple of days later, that you found him still in the kitchen, reading the newspaper, humming to himself while smoking a cigar.

He looked nice like this. Despite how he sometimes muttered about being too old, he wasn’t really that old. Late thirties, and perhaps it was the peace on his face or the sun rays that kissed him, which made him look younger. But still. There was a decade between you, but days like this, you were reminded that it didn’t matter.

“Are you going to stare all day or are you going to join me, Darling?” He asked teasingly, pulling you from your thoughts. You let out a little huff and kissed him good morning, receiving a pat on the ass before you sat down on your own seat. It had been a while since the two of you had eaten together - often he was up at the crack of dawn, so his calm behavior and gentle humming was unusual to say the least.

“Why are you not working?” You asked carefully, as you ate some of the bread, trying to ignore how it wasn’t a fancy sourdough one - though you were pretty sure he had picked it up from a local bakery in the village which was a little drive away.

“Because,” he put the paper down, then tapping some ash off the cigar into his ashtray, before looking over at you, a pleased smile on his face, “you and I are going on a trip.”

“A trip?” You didn’t even bother to be embarrassed about how your voice got higher with excitement or how your tail thumped against the backrest of the chair as you wagged it, “where are we going? When? Can we go now?”

Price had laughed, a happy sound that you knew not many got to hear; it made your heart beat a little faster, made you feel butterflies in your stomach. 

“Well, we got to do a few things first to get ready, and you ,” he used the cigar to point at you, your tail wagging a little faster, “need to not freak out when I tell you where we are going.”

Despite the warning, tears streamed down your cheeks when he told you. John didn’t get mad as a part of you had expected; he knew your abandonment issues first hand, knew how you had been left behind before, from one bad owner to another. 

“You’re going to sell me and leave me with a mean owner and I’m gonna die of hunger and thirst - and - and —“

“Not gonna leave you, princess,” John crooned, covering your face in kisses as you hiccuped and sniffled, clinging to his clothes, “you know that. My favorite puppy. Pretty girl.”

Despite your tears and small sobs, your tail wagged at his words, “silly puppy,” he mused with a smile, gently scratching your lower back, “‘m not gonna sell you. Ale and Rodolfo are looking for a hybrid, I figured we could go look at the auction as well.”

“What if - what if - what if you’ll like them more?” You sniffled dramatically, sure that your life was only going to become worse than it already was. One thing was this bloody farm and the crate, another thing was having to share Price. You didn’t like the idea one bit. If that happened, you were going to show him how a proper tantrum was thrown - the crate would probably be the least of your worries.

As if to prove his love, John bent you over the table, fucking you in between the clattering dishes and cutlery, tea and coffee almost spilling over. Despite how many times your owner fucked you, it made you lose control of your mind every single time. His cock reached so deep inside you that it bordered on pain, your mouth open as you panted and moaned at each thrust; your soft stomach being pressed against the edge of the table, one hand holding onto the back of your collar, the other on your tail. The table rattled, John groaned and moaned, your fingers desperately trying to hold onto anything. 

“My princess,” he snarled darkly into your ear, “you’ll always be mine-“ a moan, a grunt, “- no matter what happens, yeah?”

“Yes ye-ah- yes, sir, I’m yours - ah ah - I’m yours!” you managed in between pants and wails of pleasure, fear of abandonment forgotten in the ocean of euphoric satisfaction. 

You came harder than you had for a while; the reminder of your worth, of how you deserved his worship, making you cream around his throbbing length, legs in spasms afterwards. He pushed deeper, filling you up with a loud roar like sound, his hands moving to grab onto the fat of your ass and hips as he came. Pain and pleasure made your toes curl and a content sigh left you, your tail wagging against Price as he chuckled.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

The auction hall was filled to the brim with humans and hybrids alike. Every owned hybrid followed their respective owners, all wearing mandatory leashes so no pets would be confused with the ones that were being sold. You wore your own pink one with pride, gem stones sparkling. A matching leash connected to the D-ring on it, that also bore your tags. You were convinced yours were the most beautiful in this entire place.

“They’re bonded,” Laswell pointed out, pointing to the papers that hung nearby, showing off general information about them, “gotta get all three.”

You dared to look at the little board with the informations about the three hybrids they were looking at.

“Ah, we don't have space for three, mi amor.”

“eso es una pena,” Rodolfo answered, while you looked over at John - who kept looking at the three hybrids. You dared to peek over at them.

All three of them were enormous .

Two of them wore muzzles, meaning they were biters. At least at the auction. You shouldn’t judge then, not really, but you did... Even though you had worn a muzzle five years ago, when Price had chosen you. You hadn’t tried biting people out of malice; you had been scared and angry at the world. Angry for being abandoned once more, over the fact that you were most likely being passed on to another abusive master. You leaned a little closer to Price, taking in his scent.

Even from the start, despite all the problems and your attitude problems, he had been sweet. Strict at times — probably not enough — but kind.

The biggest one looked like a Great Pyrenees breed, most likely. The fur on his ears and tail looked shorter, badly cut. Probably due to matting or if he refused to get it cut. His hair, a dark blonde almost brown, was in a buzz cut. He had scars, all over - unable to hide because of the lack of clothes most hybrids were given, only underwear. There was a lot in his face, though you suspected a bunch were hidden by the muzzle. He stared into nothing, his ears curled back, though they moved now and again, listening to different sounds.

“Hard to get sold,” Laswell commented and you looked over at her in synchronicity with John, “they’re ex-military.”

Like he had been called to them, a man who wore one of the seller badges appeared.

“They’re obedient once they fall into place,” he happily explained, going full seller-mode, “they’re just not too fond of the auctions - too many people.”

“Makes sense,” Price mused, clearly interested - much to your annoyance. The fact that he asked follow up questions made you frown, fingers tightening in his shirt. He was here to look. To help Alejandro and Rodolfo, who both had continued their walk. You dared to look over at the hybrids again. All three were staring at you and John. 

“How come they were discharged?”

“One of them got a hearing loss -“ he nodded towards them, “the one with the mohawk. And they’re a bonded pack.”

“So only retiring him was out of the question,” John concluded once more looking over at them.

You felt your tail go in between your legs. He couldn’t be seriously considering those three . you couldn’t help but let out a small whine. Price gave your leash a little tug.

“They’re working dogs,” the seller continued, his eyes flickering to you, making you huff, “so they’ll need something to do, not just be pets.”

“Oh I know. I have a farm. Need some work dogs - this one isn’t guarding much.”

They all laughed, your tail going even further between your legs with embarrassment.

“You can’t be serious,” you whined in a whisper to John, not caring that you sounded needy - spoiled would Laswell had said and you ignored her as she rolled her eyes.

“Hush, Princess.” John didn’t even look at you.

“You have animals there?” The seller asked, “one of them is a herding dog - the border collie.”

“I do - several. That’s why there's a need for guarding dogs as well, bloody wolves have been terrorizing us.”

You knew he was telling the truth; he had muttered about dead sheeps and goats several times - even a calf had lost its life to the wolves in the area, despite he and Laswell having shot two already. Even foxes had gotten into the coop, despite the fences.

“They’re good at that too, with their training,” the seller offered, clearly interested in selling them or at least getting John to bid on them. “The one with the mohawk, Soap , will have hearing aids with him, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

You looked over at this “Soap”, scrunching your nose. They were still staring, the biggest one bending down to listen to the third one, a beautiful black man, whisper in his ear. No doubt judging you.

“It says here they don’t do well with others,” you muttered, in a desperate attempt to sway John, pointing to the board with their papers. It did indeed say so, to which you wanted to argue that YOU should be his main focus in this whole thing - how would he even consider adding them to your household if these dogs could get a hold of you?

“It’s in the sense that they’re not really housetrained to be social family pets,” the seller swooped in, pushing your argument away, annoying you even more, “they’ve had missions all their lives. They need to have something to do.”

“I’m sure you’ll get along with them, sweetheart,” Price answered, giving you a small scratch beneath your chin as he finally looked over at you, a glint in his eyes, “some company will do you good.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. Hardly . Price’s smile told you that he thought this was a great idea however. You dared to look at the men again. Still staring, fucking bastards.

The black man seemed like a mix of some breeds, German shepherd and… you looked shortly at the board. Belgian malinois. Fancy. He wasn’t as tall as the big one, but broad and with scars as well. There was a more slender look to him, but his six pack proved he was strong. His curly hair wasn’t too long, probably cut not too long ago. He was looking at you curiously, making you raise your upper lip a little, as if to warn him.

The one with the hearing loss looked like some sort of border collie - covered in scars as well, some of his skin looking like it had been too close to fire. He was broad like the two others, his upper arms the size of your head. He even sent you a cheeky grin, even daring to wink at you. You just looked away, tipping your chin up a little.

“You can look closer if you want, sir?”

You were pulled back into the conversation at once and before you could argue, John had already passed on your leash to Laswell and walked towards the men with the seller. You whined, distressed that he was really, actually considering this.

“You’ll be fine,” Laswell commented calmly, with empathy in her voice for once, though she didn’t look at you, merely at John and the others.

“He is gonna lose interest in me,” you whined, perhaps a little dramatically, bottom lip wobbling a little as you could feel tears welling up in your eyes, “then he’ll leave me in the crate all day and only care about them an—“

“Calm down,” Laswell said, “you’ll work yourself into a fuss.”

“He can’t do this to me,” you argued in a sullen voice, already imagining John forgetting all about you, focusing on these three hybrids for the rest of his life, leaving you cold and lonely inside the dog crate - maybe even rehoming you, “he promised he wouldn’t get rid of me.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Laswell answered just as calmly as before, “John loves you too much, you’re just being spoiled. Hanging out with some working dogs will do you good.”

“They probably have fleas,” you said, your prejudices seeping into your words, knowing you’re being mean, judgmental against your own kind, “they’ll kill me and eat my dead body.”

Laswell laughed. “No they won’t. Worst thing they’ll do, is probably knock you up.”

A high pitched, scandalized sound left you, despite knowing you had an implant. Laswell laughed again, giving your leash a little yank and then scratching you behind your long ears.

“Settle, Princess. That won’t happen without John’s permission.”

You almost cried at the sight of John shaking the seller’s hand.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

They all met up again for the actual auction part and you sat at John’s feet, sniffling a little. Crying hadn’t helped, in fact John had just petted and kissed you, calling you sensitive. Alejandro had gotten a hybrid earlier that they didn’t need to bid on - she was for sale for a certain price. Something about being too intense without enough space to roam, having attacked others before.

Fucking great. Beasts all around you.

John won the bidding on the three working dog hybrids he had been interested in - because of course he did. He spent way too much money on them too, according to you.

One more - or well, three more fucking things to hate about this “farming life” that had been forced upon you.

Maybe John had gone mad.

next chapter ->

[rosenclaws]

rainy days | Leopold Mountbatten x reader

summary: You run a small bookshop and expect a slow day when a storm rages through New York, until a very handsome stranger walks through your doors.

a/n: I watched Kate and Leopold and I am certifiably obsessed and totally normal. I apologize if any of his dialogue sounds off I'm not used to writing the way he talks. Anyways please indulge my new obsession and I hope you all like it!!

part 2

You sigh as you listen to the rain hit the windows of your little book shop. A hot cup of tea is sitting by your side as you flip through one of your books. You love your bookshop but today is definitely a slow one.

Though you do see people hustle past with their umbrellas, clutching their bags and dressed too nice for the rain. So for now you settle down for a quiet day. That is until the little bell rings, a sign someone has ventured through the storm to your little shop.

"Hello, Welcome in!" You say cheerfully as you look up from your book.

Your eyes widen as you see a man, a very handsome man, standing in the entrance way. His clothes soaked by the rain. Still he looks as put together as ever as he stands tall at your door. You notice the weird clothes he's wearing. It almost looks like a costume. His wet hair sticks to his forehead and you wonder how he got stuck out here without an umbrella.

"Forgive me, I am still unfamiliar with my surroundings and I appear to have gotten lost." You clock his accent immediately, a tourist perhaps? Though he smiled kindly you could tell he was confused.

"It's no problem, here come in." You hurry around the counter.

He silently shivers as he tries to stay away from the many books you have around your store. Fearing that he may ruin them with how much water was dripping off him.

"I have a few towels upstairs if you don't mind waiting." You offer, taking pity on the man.

"Not at all." He bows slightly as you leave the room which you think is a little weird but polite nonetheless. You grab a towel and rummage through your drawers before finding a pair of sweatpants and an old hoodie an ex boyfriend had left a while ago.

"Okay, I have a towel and some clothes that I think will fit you..." You trail off as you look up and see that he has taken off his jacket as well as his shirt.

Your brain short circuits for a moment as he turns around and it takes everything you have not to gawk like a creep. Water drips down his chest as he shakes his head to try and rid some of the water from his hair.

He meets your eyes and you both share a look. You can only hold his gaze for a moment before looking down at the ground, attempting to save yourself from any more embarrassment. You hand him the towel and clothes and gain the courage to look him in the eyes again.

"I apologize profusely, I did not hear you come down." He quickly grabs the clothes and you cough awkwardly, stealing a look at his bare chest.

"Bathroom is down the hall, you can change in there." He thanks you again and leaves you alone.

Oogling strangers isn't exactly polite or great for business but god was he handsome. Handsome and polite and an accent? It's almost too much. You hear a loud rumbling of thunder and watch the sky grow darker. Looks like the storm isn't going away anytime soon. You hear the bathroom door open again and you quickly try to busy yourself, choosing to go back to your book.

"I must apologize again, It was highly inappropriate for me to be," His neck turning a slight shade of red as he scratches the back of his head. The clothes fit him and it's almost a crime how nice he looks in a shirt and sweatpants.

"In such a state of undress."

"It's okay, you were probably freezing in those clothes so.." You smile warmly which he reciprocates.

"I truly appreciate your kindness." He glances around your shop, admiring the collection of books on your shelves.

"So, are you a tourist?"

"Oh, I have yet to introduce myself how rude. My name is Leopold, I grew in England but moved to New York." So that explains the accent, the ridiculously charming accent.

"Well Leopold, it's nice to meet you." You introduce yourself and hold out your hand. Instead of shaking it he takes it and kisses your knuckles. You can't stop the smile that spreads across your face.

"What a beautiful name, Is this your store?"

"Yeah, I bought it a couple years ago and well, I'm still here. All my friends think I'm crazy for opening a bookshop but I love it."

"Books are a wonderful thing, as a child I relied on books to occupy my time. Such intricate and beautiful worlds created from words on a page at the tips of our fingers. I think it's a very noble profession." He speaks so eloquently, his eyes filled with passion.

You rarely meet a man who has such an appreciation for books. He notices the book sitting on the desk.

"May I?" You nod your head and he picks up the book.

"Alice's Adventures in Wonderland," He smiles fondly as he flips through the page.

"I picked up a copy myself when it released before I left England. I thought it was one of the most imaginative and fantastic stories I had ever read." He flips through the pages, admiring the colorful drawings that adorn your copy. Gently, he closes the book and sets it down.

"Though I must admit, I have a new found respect for the book myself." There's humor in his voice though you don't quite get the joke.

"When it came out?" You question. The book came out in the 1800's, unless he just means a new release.

"Yes, It was quite difficult to get my hands on one but I managed."

There's something more to this man for sure. Even the way he talks is unlike anything you've heard before. The pieces start to fit themselves together as you take notice of every oddity surrounding this man. The clothes, the way he speaks, claiming to have been 200 years ago.

"You're not from here are you Leopold? Like 21st century here " You ask, he seems surprised at your question. He's surprised that you aren't calling him a lunatic. He admires how quick you are to accept the unknown. It's admirable.

"Quite the perceptive one, smart and beautiful." He flashes a smile and you swear you almost melt on the spot. He doesn't deny your claim and it makes you want to know more.

"I must admit it is a long story but seeing as there appears to be no end to the rain, perhaps I could tell you." You lean on the counter and rest your chin on your hand. He mirrors you, his brown eyes not shying away from yours.

"Tea?" You ask playfully. He stands up and offers you his hand. A spark electrifies your whole body as your hands touch.

"It would be my honor."

[allywthsr]

GENDER REVEAL | (l.norris)

summary: the day has finally come, you get to know the gender of your baby

wordcount: 2.1k words

pairing: landonorris x fem!reader

notes: series part two has finally arrived

warnings: none! (I think)

Baby Series masterlist

You were twenty two weeks pregnant when the gynecologist told you, she could tell you the gender, she put a letter with the gender in an envelope and gave it to you. You wanted nothing more than to open the letter and read the gender, but you wanted it to be more exciting. So you gave the envelope to your best friend, she wanted to plan a big gender reveal / babyshower for you. Lando and you wanted the babyshower and gender reveal in one celebration, the schedule was tight and Lando couldn’t just take a week off from work.

Lando’s parents said the whole party could happen on their property, and you were thankful for that, your apartment never would’ve fit every single one coming, and renting something in Monaco was almost impossible. The England weather was often rubbish, but you prayed for sunshine and warm temperatures for the beginning of August, when the party was happening, if it was raining, the celebration could easily be moved inside.

The days leading up to the big day were nerve wrecking, Lando talked to his child every day, giving your belly kisses and you couldn’t wait to get to know the gender, and finalize everything.

The days leading up to the big day were nerve wrecking, Lando talked to his child every day, giving your belly kisses and you couldn’t wait to get to know the gender, and finalize everything. Two days before the big day, you received last minutes information from your best friend, what she had planned and what you should wear. Lando was bouncing around, he couldn’t wait for the reveal, just like the rest of the family and friends, every weekend the mechanics would ask him, if he knew more than the last time, they saw him, them being disappointed when he didn’t, so they were even more excited when the invite for the gender reveal came. Will and José bought pink and blue shirts, specifically for this day, just so they could follow the invite and wear something in the color they think the gender of the baby would be, like little kids they sent Lando a picture of them going shopping for the shirts.

And today it was finally happening, today you would know the gender of your baby, with butterflies you woke up and Lando brought you a toast with your favorite topping, you needed to eat something immediately after waking up, or you would hang with your head over the toilet. Lando went for a run in the forrest that stood around his family’s property, and you got up and did your morning routine in the bathroom, since being pregnant, your skin was almost perfect, you barely had to anything for it. You read on some dodgy website, that good skin means you’re pregnant with a baby boy, you couldn’t wait for later and finally know the gender. Of course the gender wouldn’t change anything, you would love the baby either way, if boy or girl, but you could finally think about names and stop calling the baby ‘the baby’, Lando was certain it was a boy, and always said he or him, while you didn’t want to get your hopes up, you were also hoping for a boy. Just the thought of having a mini Lando running around, made your heart melt, sure, Lando with Mila made you cry and a baby girl would be perfect for him to care and love, but you wanted a boy first, he could take care of his baby sister later.

You went downstairs to the kitchen where Cisca was sitting and drinking a tea, you greeted her with a smile and asked her how she was feeling. She stood up and ushered you to sit on her chair, with a small caress over your round belly, she made you a quick breakfast, not listening to your complaints about how you can make your own breakfast, and she should enjoy her tea. She was a full on mother, no matter to whom, she made you a small breakfast, and it automatically tasted better because she did it. When Lando came in, he kissed his mother’s cheek and you on your mouth, kissing your belly while you put your hand on his cheek. He smiled at you and kissed you on the head, „“I’m going to shower and then I’ll come back, yeah?“, you nodded and smiled back. He ran up the stairs, and you could hear the door slam, with a chuckle, Cisca sat next to you again, “I’m so excited for later, can’t wait to see what gender my grandbaby has.“

“Me too! In the end its important that he or she is healthy, but I hope for a boy.“

“We do too! Adam wants a little prince to spoil, do the racing with him, having him on his lap while mowing the grass.“

“Don’t get me too excited for a boy, Cisca“, you chuckled, but you knew you would be just as happy if a little girl was growing in you.

After breakfast, Lando came downstairs again and shortly after, the decorators came, they prepared everything your best friends ordered. It was supposed a rather small and intimate party, but by the time you and Lando made a list for who would need to be invited, you were already at fifty people. Almost the whole grid and their girlfriends were invited, plus Carlos’s parents and siblings, people like Zak, Andrea and Andreas couldn’t be missed. Obviously Lando’s family, your family, friends, and important people in your life got an invitation.

After a small nap on the couch with Lando, you went outside to check out the decorations, thankfully the weather was supposed to be wonderful, sunshine over sunshine. There was a huge balloon wall to take pictures in front of, a big seating area with tables, to eat, drink and fill out the forms your best friend organized, the buffet would be in the kitchen, to not have everything melt in the sun and the actual revealing part would be done in the back of the backyard, where no neighbor could see what was happening. You weren’t a rockstar, nobody filmed yours and Lando’s every step of the way, and you didn’t think the neighbors would share anything to the public before you did, but you could never be too careful. Your best friend let you decide on how to reveal the gender, and you settled on the basic smoke and confetti method, it was easy, but it looked amazing.

After the caters arrived and set up the buffet, you and Lando checked on it, trying little cookies and snacks. Cisca came in shortly after Lando filled his mouth with a blue icing covered sugar cookie, and scolded him for it, gently slapping the back of his head.

The first guests arrived a bit early, your family rung the doorbell and you jumped from your chair, walking quickly to the door, you haven’t seen your family for what felt like ages, with you living in Monaco and traveling constantly, you couldn’t visit your home as much as you‘d like, even Lando rarely got to see his mother and siblings, with his father being at every race, you saw him at the race weekends.

You tightly squeezed your mother and father, Lando followed you suit, embracing them in a tight hug, your siblings also didn’t get left out.

Your mother gave you a bouquet after she caressed your swollen tummy, clearly amazed at how big you‘ve gotten. The flowers were placed in a vase and Lando’s parents welcomed yours, they haven’t seen each other since the last Christmas, and the mothers immediately settled in the kitchen to talk, while the dads went out in to the garden to eye the decorations and talk about football and f1.

You and Lando went upstairs together, changing into a more party outfit. You put on a baby blue flowy dress, that settled nicely on your stomach, not making you look like a whale, but like a healthy pregnant woman. Lando also changed into a baby blue top and some beige pants, you both looked stunning, Lando couldn’t resist but to take what felt like a thousand pictures of you on your own or together in the mirror.

You settled on the couch, to wait for the first guests to arrive, and shortly after, the doorbell rung. You greeted Carlos and Rebecca and took their gift bag to the little table that was placed in the living room.

The more time passed, the more people arrived, you tried to keep it small, but with people knowing that many people, it was hard to decide what people should be left out, you simply couldn’t. Family, friends, and colleagues were standing around the garden, chatting, drinking, and eating to pass the time until the big reveal.

When everyone was there, you greeted them all again and held a little speech, thanking everyone for coming and for the gifts, explaining what was planned for the afternoon and where to find the food.

Your best friend organized a few little extras before it, every guest could write a small letter to the baby, that it could read once he or she was old enough, fill out a form and guess what gender, date and time it would be born, weight, height and many more things. The person that is most accurate, is going to win a small prize, you didn’t know what yet, but a trip to Monaco was a good idea.

On a small table there were some babygrows, and some clothing paint. If guests wanted to, they could paint on the babygrow and later on your child could wear it, it’s also just to have a sweet memory and keep the guests entertained.

You were chatting with your best friend in the kitchen, snacking on some pink colored cookies, from where you were standing you saw people fill out the forms, drawing on the babygrow or taking pictures in front of the picture wall. The professional photographer you hired for this day, was patient and took her time for everyone, who wanted pictures. You already had your little photoshoot, where every guest took a picture with you and Lando, the parents to be.

After almost two hours of people arriving and people filling out forms, or designing babygrows, it was time for the big reveal. Your best friend announced that it was time for everyone to walk to the back of the backyard and half-circle around you and Lando.

Lando stood next to you, holding you in his arms, and stroking your side, you both were shaking with nerves, good nerves, it was exciting to finally be sure what gender your baby has.

Your best friend gave you a smoke cannon, and Lando a confetti cannon, you both looked at each other, you could see how nervous he was, Lando gave you one last kiss and a stroke over your belly, when the crowd started counting down from ten, with every number passing, you felt the sparks in your belly explode, why were they counting that slowly?

When the one was called, Lando and you clasped the triggers of the cannons tighter and twisted the bottom, you squeezed your eyes shut, and only opened them when everybody was erupting with screams.

You opened your eyes and blue smoke surrounded you, with a gasp and tears threatening to spill, you turned to Lando and opened your arms, squeezing him tight, before he pressed his lips to yours and enjoyed the moment, caressing your belly.

“A boy! Y/N, a boy. We have a mini Lando.“

He kissed your cheek, before Max Fewtrell came over and hugged the two of you, more guests came over and congratulated you, you enjoyed each and every hug you received, thanking the person for being there.

Lando and you took a quiet minute inside the house, just hugging and talking about your baby, Lando got his boy, the one he wanted so badly. Now he could show him the world of karting, when he was old enough to get inside one. The room could be finalized, you could buy the first babygrow he would wear when he was born, a name could be chosen, and so much more.

The rest of the evening was spent talking, laughing and enjoying the time with your friends and families, you held your tummy, knowing a little boy would keep you up your toes in a few months, but you weren’t alone, you had Lando by your side, helping you with whatever it is you would need.

[queers-gambit]

Shower Shenanigans

part one: Perpetual L's and Overwhelming Dubs

prompt: midnight callers turn your quiet night upside down, but at least it ends with you riding your stranger in the shower.

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 4.7k+

note: nobody asked for this but he's my muse now

warnings: cursing, smut (unprotected, in the shower, she's on top), blood, wounds, brain rot, author isn't British, probably setting up for part three, wonky brain doesn't care what warnings are missed.

A storm had rolled over Osaka, a steady thrumming at your hotel window creating a calming ambiance as you lit a couple of the candles you ordered from the front desk. Curled up on the tiny loveseat offered in the small living space, you flipped through your latest novel you grabbed before running into Tangerine at the train station. Speaking of, you glared at your phone for the hundredth time in an hour, feeling a sort of overwhelming dread that he hadn't called yet - or at the very least, texted.

Was it silly? Oh, you KNOW it was.

But he had said some really pretty things that rang in your ears on a haunting repeat the rest of the train ride. Then the whole taxi ride through Osaka, and the three days it's been since meeting him - he just wouldn't leave your conscious. Every meeting you had was vaguely interrupted by some sort of thought about your mysterious stranger, driving you up the wall.

Sure, you could call him, but the idea of calling a stranger for no reason other than to hear his voice felt a little too vulnerable to you. Yo could ask where he was, if he wanted to come for a visit - or hell, even before you departed Japan back for London, England, you could come see him... If he so wanted.

But your mind refused to let you dial his number, which was left in your recents after he had texted himself in the bathroom. The memory of your ex was still so fresh, making you feel silly for having such vivid, intense fantasies about a man you've met once. And for the love of Christ, you didn't even know his real name! Just his silly, fruity codename!

Man, if you hadn't been embarrassed before, the memory of moaning a fucking fruit surely made you cringe to the point you wanted the Earth to open up, swallow you whole, and never spit you out.

Your trip was soon to end with your departing flight tomorrow night, giving you just a day of leisure time in the city - but you didn't feel like doing much since the storm. Your book was interesting enough, keeping you entertained with a cart of hot food from room service within arms reach. Your tea was lukewarm by now, being much easier to drink, bowl of air-popped popcorn sat in your lap. Over the sounds of thunder, there was a knock at your door.

More like a banging, but hey, logistics. This was odd considering it was close to nine in the evening and you hadn't called for anything.

With a sigh, you marked your page and stood; annoyed by the continuous knocking, oversized tee shirt falling back over your thighs, socked feet stuffing into your slippers before traveling to the door. You called in Japanese, "Who is it?"

There was a small scraping, making your brows furrow and call your question again - but with much more urgency. "'S me, love, open the door, please," a raspy, British accent croaked seemingly through the crack. You left the chain lock in place, slowly opening the door a fraction to discover Tangerine - bloodied to high hell - leaning on the doorframe of your hotel room with two other bloody men behind him.

"What the fuck? Jesus Christ," you hissed, shutting the door, snapping the chain off and yanking it open once more. "Get in here, are you okay?" You asked, gasping right after when Tangerine stumbled a little, making you catch him; assualting your sinuses with the smell of citrus, metallic blood, and cigarette smoke. "All right, all right, you're safe now, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon," you muttered, helping him over your shoulders and into your decently spacious hotel room. "C'mon, you two! Step lively before you trigger hotel security!"

You shuffled your stranger into the room and deposited him on the sofa; hearing his grunt of exaggerated pain. You looked at the others, sighing as you moved things out of the way, inviting the other two men to sit around the furniture. You tried not to worry about the cleaning bill you would surely get for all their blood.

"Jesus Christ, did you get shot?" You asked, seeing the fleshy wound in his shoulder that was very poorly staunched.

"That arsehole did it," he panted, pointing at the blonde stranger.

"Hi," the arsehole waved, "it was an accident, for whatever it's worth. I, uh... I have bad luck, don't really like guns," he shrugged meekly.

"You lot look like hell," you sighed, shaking your head and standing to your feet to take a few steps away. You asked over your shoulder, "Guess I shouldn't bother asking what happened?"

"Train wreck," the man Tangerine had been with earlier answered.

You blinked in shock, the men all wincing as they were seemingly finally able to relax. Only now, you noted they were all in the same clothes as days ago, just tattered, torn, burnt and singed, soaking wet from the storm, stained with blood. You looked at Tangerine, demanding, "Is that why you told me to get off the train? You were gonna crash it!?"

"No, no, darlin', that wasn't the plan," Tangerine coughed, head tilted back. "Just... Happened."

"Call it his bad luck, huh?" You shook your head and moved for the hotel's phone, dialing the front desk and waiting. When they answered, the cheery front desk girl asked how she could help and you asked her what first aid supplies the hotel kept stocked. She answered and you asked if you'd be able to get enough for three kits - claiming you were practicing for a medical school final. She was more than happy to oblige, telling you her brother did much of the same, and she'd send the kits right up.

Thanking her, you hung up, and turned back for room. You found a pair of shorts and hopped into them for modesty, using your ice bucket to fill with water, grabbing whatever hand towels and washcloths you could. You set the bucket to the coffee table, dipping the cloths in for the two strangers, asking, "You guys wanna clean up a bit?"

"Please," the blonde wheezed.

You nodded, handing over the wet towels and moved the bucket a little closer for them to reach. You introduced yourself to them, offering a smile, turning for Tangerine and taking a seat beside him to start cleaning him up. "Lemon," your companion's counterpart introduced.

"Ladybug."

"More fucking codenames," you mumbled, shaking your head, trying to mop up Tangerine's forehead. "Jesus, fuck, sweetheart, what did you do? Bash your head through a glass wall?"

"Window, actually," he mumbled, reaching up to caress your wrist and cracking his eyes open. "Thank you, darlin'."

"Hush," you smiled, wiping the blood from his mouth. "You guys are gonna need showers and new clothes, huh?" You looked at the other two, who were scattered around the room to use whatever reflective surface they could find.

"That'd be nice," Ladybug nodded. "Anyone any cash?"

You sighed, "I've got you guys, 's all right."

As you reached for the bucket of warm water again to rinse the washcloth and wring it out, you missed the looks Lemon and Tangerine exchanged; both mildly impressed with your generosity and kindness. Certainly, someone who would never get tangled up in the lot of them on regular circumstances.

The knock at your door made the entire room still, you sparing them a skeptical look and reprimanding as you stood, "Relax, it's just the supplies."

Still, Lemon and Ladybug made sure they were out of sight as Tangerine just couldn't move once deposited on the sofa. You greeted the service worker, strategic in how wide you opened the door, and accepted the supplies; thanking the man, closing the door, and depositing the materials on your still-made bed.

However, a new thought occurred and you picked up the phone once more. When it connected to the front desk, you asked if your conjoining room was vacant - and to your shock, it was. You asked if they would add the room to yours because your friend suddenly decided to join you (not a total lie), and some 20 minutes later, you were giving Ladybug and Lemon their own room keys. You propped the conjoining door open, the two men using the first aid kits and the other room's shower as you got Tangerine to a point you didn't think he would bleed out.

"Okay, sweetheart," you caressed his jaw, "I'm gonna pop over to the shops across the street, okay? Grab you guys some necessities."

"You don't have to, we shouldn't burden you like this," he whispered.

"You guys can't walk around in these clothes," you chuckled.

"Have been."

"Yeah, on the side of the road, huh?"

"Back of a tangerine truck for a bit, too," he chuckled.

"Well, that's fitting. Look, just," you sighed, leaning in to peck his lips softly, "stay here, rest, eat, I'll be right back. Get a shower if you feel able, yeah?"

He nodded, just looking you over for a moment. "I'm sorry," he whispered, shaking his head, "I didn't know where else t'go. Whole plan went t'shit, we were out of options, love, just... Didn't know where t'turn ta."

"How'd you even find me?"

He shrugged, "I have my ways."

"Well, that's doesn't vaguely make you sound like a stalker." Another peck to his amused smile. "I'll be right back, promise," you stood, found a pair of sweats, a hoodie, and changed your shoes before heading out the door.

Was it stupid to leave three strangers alone in your hotel room? For sure. But you still went, you were a caring person by nature and the idea of making them fend for themselves felt wrong.

Especially after the state they showed up in, Tangerine's soft words about not knowing where to go; you just wanted to help since you had the ability to.

Across the street, splashing through puddles, you zipped around what was available and gathered three sets of sweatpants, shirts, jackets or hoodies, and figured their shoes were fine for now until they could change them later. You grabbed a few snacks and bottles of water, sports drinks, and energy drinks, paid, and made it back to your hotel room.

"Oh, blessings, you sweet girl!" Lemon gasped when you presented the change of clothes and snacks. "Oh, fuck yeah," he whispered to himself, taking the gift and going to change as you tossed Ladybug his own set.

When you found Tangerine, he was in the same place - but at least he didn't look worse. Just exhausted.

"Hey," you cooed, caressing his head and watching his eyes crack open.

"You're back," he smiled.

"Mhm," you hummed, "and you need a shower. C'mon, then you can get in bed, get some rest."

"Nah, love," he groaned when you took his wrists, "let's jus' go t'bed."

"Tan, you're absolutely disgusting right now, you'll feel better under the water. C'mon, there's a shower seat, you don't have to do anything, I'll help you."

He winced when you helped him on his feet, hobbling into the bathroom as Ladybug and Lemon were chowing down on whatever they could get their hands on. In the bathroom, you shut the door, set a clean towel on the counter, and turned to see him leaning on a wall, just watching you. You offered a soft smile, starting the shower to hea up, and then approaching him.

"Easy," you whispered, helping him unlatch his belt, step from his shoes, and then shed his trousers. His waistcoat followed, then his button-up, you gasping lightly, "Oh, fuck! Oh, my God. Yeah," you gently pet his side, prodding the dark wound, "you've got some broken ribs, sweetheart. Fuck's sake."

"That arsehole did that, too," he mused.

"Seriously? Damn, how'd you get your arse handed to yah by a lad named Ladybug?" You joked, dropping his boxers and pulling him from the wall. You made sure he was on the shower seat before stepping back and stripping yourself, joining him in the heat and getting to your knees.

With another washcloth, you gently suds over his body, the soap helping sweep away from grime. He let you work, scrubbing his feet, then working up his legs, rinsing, reapplying the soap, and continuing on your way. You washed his thighs and up his hips, to his waist, ignoring the way his cock stirred to life, bobbing into your elbow as it swelled. You were gentle over his bruises, the water feeling nice over your tired bodies; the soft scents of the soap soothing.

When you straightened up to wash his chest, you missed the way his eyes scanned over your soaking wet form. Feeling your hands on his collarbones, he reached down to seize your hips and heave - making you yelp. "The hell are you doing?" You gasped, needing to stabilize yourself on the wall and his non-shot shoulder.

"'S been three days too long, just wanted yah close," he whispered, sighing as his hands smoothed down your hips; gripping the flesh until indentations appeared.

You tisked, "You're hurt, you don't need t'fuckin' lift me. Use your words next time, won't you?"

He chuckled, "And what? Risk you sayin' no 'cause you don't wanna hurt me? Nah, love," he sighed. "Just wanted yah close, t'feel yah."

You hummed, "Close your eyes."

"Hmm?"

You held up the shampoo bottle, squirting a generous amount into your hand before starting to lather it into his scalp. He groaned, hissed at a few intervals, but overall let you work your fingers through his curls; pulling out any knots, shards of glass, and loosening the dried blood.

"You all right?" You checked, lifted on your knees to work; breasts all but pressed into his face.

"Mhm," he hummed, coiling his arms around you so he could literally just press his face into your cleavage. You chuckled, giving him a quick cuddle as he pecked your skin slowly, and continuing your work. When you lowered yourself back to his lap, your bare cunt drug down his shaft, making you both groan. "Baby," he seethed through his teeth, gripping the back of your neck to keep you close, "please, just - get on me, yeah? Need yah - on a biblical level, darlin'."

"You're hurt," you weakly refused, your resolve barely hanging on by a thread.

"Not so hurt that I can't enjoy this, huh?" He argued, licking over your lips to halt all rational thought. "C'mon, love, we hiked it three days here - after a fuckin' train wreck. I would've dropped if not for the thought of you, seein' yah, touchin' you again. Don't even gotta move, just sit there, love."

"If I do, will you finally just sit still and let me clean you up?"

"Whatever baby wants, she'll have, swear it," he grinned, hoisting you into his arms so he could grip his throbbing cock, lower you, and line himself up until you were impaling yourself on him. "Jesus, fuck!" He snapped, mixing with your whimper at his impossible stretch. "Ah, you feel so fuckin' good, doll, this is it - this is what I needed, huh? All I fuckin' needed - fuck - right fuckin' here."

"Hush," you whispered with an embarrassed smile, glancing back. "I need the shower head."

"I got us," he answered, holding you tight and standing with a small grunt. He easily grabbed the shower head, handing it to you, letting you rinse his hair out as he turned to pin you against the wall with his hips for balance.

"This isn't just sitting," you mocked, soap flowing down his shoulders and chest. "Close your eyes, please," you whispered, wiping the frothy suds from his face as he did. "God, your curls are magnificent, seriously, why does God give the best qualities to men - who don't even appreciate what they have?"

He laughed lightly, "Gotta get your attention somehow."

"Mhm, these lashes? Not even a drop of mascara," you mused, pecking the tip of his nose while one hand held his jaw. "And this jawline? Baby, this alone could cut glass."

"Like your nipples, right?" He teased, nipping your collarbones; both acutely aware of your pebbled nips dancing across his flesh each time you moved. He chuckled, readjusting you when you reached to set the shower head back in the holder; making sure it could cascade over the bench still. "We done?" He asked softly.

"Nope, got the conditioner," you rolled your eyes, holding his shoulders when he moved back for the seat; still firmly inside you. When he sat again, you released a high-pitched breath when the position pushed him further into you; your legs folding beside his thighs to keep the ideal grip.

"In a second," he smirked, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. "Just need this, yeah?" He spoke against your lips, licking into your mouth. "Been hiking with a fucking hard-on for days, love, just fuckin' need this," he hissed into your mouth, teeth raking over your bottom lip in a possessive bite. You moaned quietly, lost in the ministrations of kissing him like a drunk teenager, barely aware when he started moving your hips over him.

"Tan," you tried.

"C'mon, love, we both need it," he shook his head. "Tell me to stop and I will, but I think we both need this."

With a long sigh, you pet his cheek, deciding, "Fine, but we're taking it easy, you're still - " But then there was a loud knock at the bathroom door, Lemon calling your name in question. You slapped a hand over Tangerine's irritated mouth when he looked ready to yell his protest, answering, "What is it, honey, are you guys okay? What's wrong?"

"Yeah, just, uh... Can we order a couple things from room service? Bit starving, thinkin' something hot?"

"Oh, yeah, whatever you guys need!" You encouraged happily, Tangerine biting your palm and making your hand retract with a small whine and pout.

"Oi!" He called over the shower stream.

"Yeah?" Lemon was heard laughing.

"Don't run up her bill, mate!"

"It's okay," you whispered, pecking his forehead. "Get what you need, Lemon," you called, "but order Tangerine something to eat, too, please!"

"On it, love! Thank you!"

"Oh! Of course!" You beamed back at Tangerine, who offered you a mild look of annoyance.

"Now, why do that?" He asked, grinding your hips on his again. "Huh? Those two will eat you outta house and home, love."

"It's fine, you guys have been through a lot," you promised, connecting your lips in a long kiss. "Now, you wanna keep talking financials or put the rest of this hot water to use?"

"There's my girl," he grunted, standing from the bench to move fully under the water; pinning you to the wall again.

You grunted when you collided with the cold tile, but the warm tongue in your mouth was plenty distraction. You held his neck like it was your single tether to life, teeth clashing, tongues wagging, lips wet and creating obscene sounds the more intense the kisses turned.

"Fuck," you felt the air punch from your lungs when Tangerine pulled his hips back to start thrusting; brows furrowed together in concentration as he worked in and out of you at an already brutal pace. You didn't complain - he obviously needed this, and by God, it felt otherworldly.

"'Ats my girl, so fuckin' good for me," he muttered, needing this more than you have ever before; each hand holding a thigh to keep you spread open for his taking, hips hammering into yours as his balls slapped the apex of your cunt to echo around the room.

You felt incoherent when he picked up his speed, dropping his forehead to your shoulder when your head was thrown back as he worked you closer, closer, closer to your release. There was no thought in your mind, just Tangerine; drunk on his smell, taste, touch, never wanting this feeling to end.

Just outside the bathroom, Ladybug was accepting the room service order when he heard the messy, obscene noises coming from the bathroom; looking wide eyed at the closed door. Lemon laughed, "Might wanna walk away, Joburg, he don't like nobody listening in."

"Kinda hard to when they're that loud," he blanched when you released a pornographic moan as Tangerine readjusted his stance so his cock was piercing what felt like straight through you. Lemon laughed at Ladybug being startled so much he literally scurried away.

"C'mon, love," Tangerine panted.

"Go back," you moaned, pawing at his shoulders as you felt too slippery in this position.

"Huh?"

"Sit!" You insisted, him pulling back from the wall and backing up until the bench hit the back of his knees - dropping him. "There's my boy," you mocked, a hand on the wall, the other on his good shoulder, supporting you to vigorously ride him. You felt renewed energy now that he was obviously okay, only his bullet wound still weeping - something you'll patch up once out of the water.

"Oh, holy fuck," Tangerine moaned, louder than you would've thought; his head thumping back to the wall and losing all composure. "That's it, doll, keep like that - ohhh, fuck me!"

"Exactly what I'm doing, yeah?" You teased, moving your hand to his throat and keeping pressure enough not to fully choke his air supply, but enough to make him moan at the feeling.

His mouth dropped open as you rode him enthusiastically, feeling determined to reward him for coming all this way to track you down. Yeah, sure, for a moment, it was concerning, but now, you simply didn't care that three strangers had found your hotel room and now crashed with you.

Nothing mattered when this deliriously delicious cock was inside you.

"Jesus!" Tangerine moaned, hands to your hips to help you move, but it seemed the years in your youth as an equestrian was truly paying off. Call it muscle memory, but years after mastering the posting trot and the correct canter diagonal, you were riding Tangerine as if you'd drop dead if you didn't. And he felt it, he felt all of it. "Yeah, you're too good at this," he groaned, "so fuckin' good - Goddamnit - fuck me. Just like that, love, keep going - fuck, I'm right there."

You smirked, pushing his neck back so we was pinned to the wall now, his eyes locked with yours, mouth agape, your breasts bouncing with vigor. You squeaked when Tangerine braced his feet, his own hips thrusting up into you to match your movements; adding to both your mounting pleasures as the shower created a cloud of steam around you both in a welcomed lung-choking heat.

You honestly didn't mean to, but the absolute gut-wrecking pleasure you felt was enough for you to moan in Tangerine's ear, "Daddy."

It seemed the right word as Tangerine groaned in an echo, thrusting faster to the point you couldn't keep up. You could only moan, groan, squeak, cry-out as he jackhammered up into you - something that made Lemon and Ladybug exchange looks, gather their things, and rush back over to their adjoining room to leave you both a fraction of privacy.

"Yeah, tell Daddy how good it is," he seethed in your ear, opening his mouth, and biting down on your neck; hand tightly wound in your hair.

"So good."

"How good?"

"Too good, Daddy, please," you sobbed, braced on his shoulders and chest as his arms held you tight to let him thrust with abandon. "Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God, yes, yes, yes," you praised, your orgasm rushing higher and higher to a new height. "Fuck," you moaned in his ear, "need this cock everyday. Went three days without, felt like I was losing my fucking mind."

"Feelin's mutual, love, so fuckin' mutual," he agreed, his cock swelling, "just needed t'get here, find yah again. Shit, fuck," he looked to where you were conjoined, praising, "gonna need yah home address - ain't no way we're goin' without one another, huh? Hey?"

"Yes, yes, yes," you squeaked, "there - there - there!"

His thumb pressed to your clit and you were done for. Grinding and humping into his hips, you crashed over the other side of your orgasm; feeling mildly limp as you slumped against his shoulder, letting Tangerine thrust a few more times.

"YES!" He shouted your name through clenched teeth, holding you with a vice grip as he bottomed out, balls contracting, squirting his full load inside you with shuddering breaths.

"Oh, my God," you sniffled, holding onto him as your legs were spent and you knew, the odds of you moving any time soon were slim to none.

"Yeah," Tangerine chuckled, leaning back to the wall as he panted; keeping hold of you. "Yah all right, love?"

"Uh-huh," you breathed, still absentminded.

"Yeah," he mused, pecking below your ear. "Just what the doctor ordered, huh?"

"Think the doctor would want your wound closed," you slowly sat off him, looking to the bloody hole and frowning as you pet around the irritated skin. He winced gently, making you frown, "Let's go, love, you need this tended to."

Only, when you dismounted, his cock flopping out of you once released, you tried to find your feet but only found the floor.

"C'mon, love, you just sit," he sighed, scooping you up and switching spots. He set you on the bench, stood, rinsed off under the water, readjusted the stream so it hit you a little better as he lathered conditioner into his curls with one arm.

"You're supposed to leave it sit for a bit," you tisked when he washed the conditioner out; shaking his curls.

"'S all right, still does the job."

"Your girlfriends never taught you haircare?"

He cleared his throat, looking a bit sheepish as he avoided your eyes. "Never really had one outside of secondary school. Job doesn't make dating the easiest, yeah?"

You furrowed your brows gently, then nodded, "Okay, well, just means you've room to learn, right?"

"Yeah, sure. You gonna teach me, love?" He mused, slicking his hair back in the water before shutting it off; wringing a few strands out.

"Why not?" You smiled. "But you gotta teach me something in return."

"Hmm? What's that you wanna learn?"

"How to shoot a gun."

He offered you a long look, seemingly skeptical. You accepted his hand and got from the bench, squeezing when the weight of your body made them tremble lightly. Stepping out, you both dried off with towels as he offered, "Why d'you think I know how to shoot a gun?"

"Tellin' me that Ladybug fellow is the only one? That's fine, I can ask him," you quipped, making him instantly respond,

"Nah, nah, nah, nah, don't do all that, I'll teach yah, love."

You smiled softly, wrapping your hair in a towel and approaching him - still naked. "Thank you," you whispered, kissing his lips in a soft, sweeping motion that made him hum in the back of his throat and reach for your bare arsecheek. "Now, c'mon, let's get you stitched up before you go startin' something you can't finish."

"You met me, love? I always finish," he gave a cheeky squeeze.

"Mhm, might be the last time, too, with this blood loss. Huh?"

He relented in a head nod and wrapped the towel around his hips, watching you shrug on a fluffy white robe and tie the sash. He took your hand, laced your fingers together, and exited the bathroom - only to come to a shocking halt.

There was blood trailed all over the room, medical supplies strewn around, and several food wrappers. "Told yah, love," Tangerine sighed.

"It's okay," you smiled, "they'll clean it."

"You're so sure?"

"I'm very persuasive," you eased. "C'mon, sit," you ushered him back to the bloodied sofa, figuring damage was already done and anymore blood wouldn't make much of a difference. You grabbed whatever material you could, snapping on rubber gloves and taking a deep breath. "Ready?" You asked Tangerine.

"One more kiss and you can have at it," he sighed, leaning in until you met him happily; offering several swipes of his tongue before resting his forehead on your own.

"It'll sting for a bit," you warned, holding the bottle of alcohol.

"C'mon, darlin', 's all right, I can handle - OH! FUCKS SAKE!" He cursed when you poured the disinfectant over his bullet wound.

In the next room, Ladybug and Lemon shared a look before snickering as if two juvenile boys at a sleepover. And honestly? Spot the difference.

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

[meazalykov]

on top of the world

alex morgan x actress!reader

summary: 2019 was the biggest moment in your career, and hers.

2019 is a busy year. endgame, the film you've poured your heart into for the last couple of years, is about to hit theaters, and it’s set to be one of the biggest movies in history. 

the buzz around it is insane—press tours, interviews, red carpets. you’ve barely had time to breathe, but there’s something, or rather, someone, constantly on your mind. alex morgan.

your relationship with alex has always been something special. it's been private, quiet—at least as much as it could be, considering you’re both public figures. her, one of the biggest stars in women’s soccer, and you, one of the biggest actresses in hollywood. 

the rumors about you two have been swirling for months, ever since that time the media caught you at one of her orlando pride games, but you’ve both kept things under wraps. still, it’s getting harder to hide how deeply you care for each other.

alex is about to head to france for the world cup, and you’ve promised yourself you’re not going to miss a single one of her matches, no matter how crazy your schedule gets. she’s been laser-focused on the tournament, and you’ve been equally invested in your work, but that doesn’t stop the late-night texts, the phone calls after her training sessions, the video chats where she shows you around their team hotel.

“are you nervous?” you ask her during one of those late-night video calls, your phone propped up on your pillow as you lay in bed.

“a little,” she admits with a small smile. “but mostly excited. it’s the world cup. we won last time and i have confidence that we will win again.”

“yes! and you’re going to crush it,” you say confidently, leaning in closer to the screen as if that could somehow bring you closer to her. “i know you will.”

“i wish you could be here,” she says, her voice soft, a little wistful.

you feel the same ache in your chest. “me too.”

the group stages kick off, and despite your packed schedule, you make time to watch every game. sometimes, you’re in a hotel room in new york after a bunch of press interviews; other times, you’re sitting on the couch at home, gripping a cup of coffee as the u.s. takes the field. 

your heart races every time alex touches the ball. she’s brilliant—strong, fast, lethal in front of goal. you scream when she scores her first goal of the tournament, jumping off the couch like a little kid, and immediately text her afterward.

“did you see it?” she asks later, when she had a few minutes back in the hotel room before she went to sleep.

“i saw everything,” you reply. “you are incredible. i’m so proud of you.”

you’re glued to the screen through each stage of the tournament. when the u.s. faces france in the quarter-finals, you find yourself on the edge of your seat, heart in your throat. 

it’s a tough game, and alex looks exhausted, but when the final whistle blows and they’ve won, you exhale a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

then comes the semi-final against england. by now, you’ve memorized every corner of your living room, pacing nervously back and forth. 

it’s a tense match, but when alex scores that iconic goal, raising her hand in that cheeky tea-sipping celebration, you burst out laughing, pride swelling in your chest.

“i can’t believe you did that!” you text her after the game, still grinning.

“had to,” she later replies with a wink emoji. “for the drama.”

the u.s. wins, and with that victory, they’re headed to the final. and that’s when you make your decision. 

no matter how packed your schedule is with the upcoming premiere of endgame, you have to be there for alex. you clear a few days, book a flight to france, and don’t tell her a word about it.

when you land in lyon, your heart is racing. you can hardly believe you’re here, sitting in the stands with alex’s family, her sisters beside you, chatting excitedly about how well she’s been playing. 

the fans around you are buzzing, and a few of them notice you, pointing and whispering. the rumors about you and alex have never stopped, and your presence here only fuels the fire.

“you think she knows you’re here?” her sister, jeni, asks, a smirk playing on her lips.

“nope,” you reply, feeling a thrill run down your spine. “it’s a surprise.”

the stadium is electric. the u.s. faces off against the netherlands, and the stakes couldn’t be higher. you sit on the edge of your seat, fingers crossed, your eyes never leaving alex. 

she’s a warrior on the field, pushing through exhaustion, chasing every ball, and leading her team with that fire you fell in love with. when megan rapinoe scores the first goal from the penalty spot, you leap to your feet, screaming with the crowd. then rose lavelle seals it with a second goal, and that’s it. 

the u.s. are world champions again.

tears prick your eyes as the final whistle blows. you watch alex drop to her knees, overwhelmed, before being swarmed by her teammates. 

the celebration is wild, but you’re still holding your breath, waiting for the moment you’ll finally see her.

and then, there she is, searching the stands, her eyes scanning the crowd. when she spots you, her face lights up like the fourth of july. without hesitation, she runs over, her smile wide and tears of joy glistening in her eyes.

“you’re here,” she breathes, pulling you into a tight embrace, her hands gripping the back of your neck.

you laugh, your heart racing in your chest as you cling to her. “of course i’m here. i wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

she pulls back slightly, her forehead resting against yours, her breath shaky. “you’re supposed to be in l.a. for the premiere.”

“i’ve got a few days,” you say, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “you were worth the trip.”

her eyes fill with emotion as she cups your face with both hands, her thumb gently stroking your cheek. “i can’t believe you did this.”

“you’ve done so much for me,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “this was the least i could do. you’re my world, alex.”

“i love you,” she says, her voice barely audible over the roaring crowd.

“i love you too,” you reply, and the kiss you share feels like the perfect ending to the perfect day.

four days later, you’re back in los angeles, decked out in a designer dress for the endgame premiere. the energy is electric, the press is everywhere, and fans are lining the streets, eager for a glimpse of the stars. 

you’ve done the red carpet, given interviews, posed for countless photos with your co-stars. but now, as you wait in the hallway for the theater to open, you’re chatting with scarlett, trying to keep your nerves at bay.

“you nervous?” she asks, grinning as she adjusts the hem of her dress.

“always,” you admit, laughing softly. “no matter how many of these i do, it never gets easier.”

then, you feel it—those familiar hands resting on your shoulders. your heart skips a beat, and you turn around, a huge smile already forming on your face. 

there, standing in front of you, dressed in a sleek black suit, is alex.

“alex?” you gasp, eyes wide with disbelief. “what are you doing here?”

she grins, her eyes sparkling with that familiar mischievous glint. “i couldn’t let you have one of the biggest nights of your life without me. you came to france for me, so i had to be here for you.”

you throw your arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug, the world around you fading away. “you didn’t have to do this.”

“yes, i did,” she says softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “you’re my world too, you know.”

you pull back just enough to look into her eyes, your heart swelling with so much love it feels like it might burst. 

“we’re really doing this, huh? the whole “on top of the world” thing.”

alex laughs, nodding. “yeah, we really are.”

and as the theater doors open, the lights flashing and the crowd cheering, you know in your heart that nothing will ever break what you have.

masterlist

[reminiscingtonight]

arsenal, hoodies and hickies for tobin! (bonus if shes still playing for them and maybe dating someones sibling)

Spill The Tea (Alessia Russo x Press!Reader)

A/N: changed the req a bit bc there is no Tobin without Christen so I made the reader Christen’s sibling

“Is this something I’m going to need to tell Christen or can I trust you to be a responsible adult?”

There’s this thing with Tobin. Ever since she started dating your sister all those years ago, she’s really slipped into the role of the fourth older sister you don’t need. 

While she isn’t as nitpicky as Tyler and Christen or as interrogative as Channing, Tobin still liked to harp on you quite a lot. So you’ve heard this question come out of her mouth more times than you can count. And by now you know better than to expect Tobin to keep a secret from Christen.

You tilt your head towards her, a singular eyebrow raising up in question as your arms stay halfway through your training shirt. Of all times Tobin could’ve started a conversation of course she had to wait until you were quite literally trapped with nowhere to escape. 

“Why do you think I have anything to tell you?”

“You have a hickey the size of Maine on your neck.”

You follow her eyes down to your skin. Your still very bruised skin. 

The memory of mischievous eyes sparkling as you tried to sneak out this morning flashes clearly through your mind as you hastily pull on a neck warmer from your cubby.

You can still feel Tobin’s eyes on the side of your face as you try to busy yourself pulling on the last of your clothes. 

“You’re seeing someone, don’t lie.”

“And why do you think so?” You look up to see Tobin giving you a look. You roll your eyes. “Apart from the hickey.”

“You’re really going to make me play detective today?” When you don’t respond Tobin lets out an annoyed grunt. “Where to start? Well you’ve been sneaking in at 6 in the morning for the past couple of weeks.”

It’s not your fault you haven’t been given a drawer yet. Frankly the number of times you’ve stayed over should’ve already gotten you a place to store your things but Alessia’s been extremely paranoid about letting you leave traces of yourself at hers. Something about how her England teammates like coming over unannounced. A lot. Better to keep no trace of you at her place lest a blabbermouth blabbers too much.

“And changing your phone password? Not cool, dude.”

You cringe at the memory of Tobin storming into your room at half past twelve the other day, exasperated at the fact that a). you weren’t up and making her breakfast yet, and b). she couldn’t get into your phone to doordash some food.

You and Tobin shared everything. Cooking duties. The occasional snapback. Your phone passwords. But that last one was the first thing you changed when you started seeing Alessia. 

“And finally, this,” Tobin pokes at the light blue hoodie peeking out of your duffle, “is not yours.”

You try ducking under her arm to get out of the locker room but Tobin grabs a firm hold of your training top, jerking you back towards her.

You’re nose to nose now and the forward has no problem using her height advantage to stare you down. “I’ll ask again. Who have you been locking lips with?”

You scowl. “Well you’re playing detective today right? Guess.”

Tobin’s lips pinch shut, a displeased look on her face.

Before she can retaliate, a brief call of her name by Kim has Tobin turning away. When her hands loosen their hold, you bolt, taking full advantage of Tobin’s brief dip of attention.

Unbeknownst to you, a pair of blue eyes follow you out of the room.

It isn’t until you’re already stretching on the sideline that long legs catch up to you. A soft smile breaks onto your face at the sight of other girl, hands opening and closing as you mime at her to come closer for a kiss.

For a second you think Alessia's going to crumble to your demands. 

And then you see her panicked expression.

“Did Tobin figure out we’re dating?”

Sighing, you push yourself off the ground, taking care to brush grass off your legs. “No, Tobin’s smart but she isn’t that smart.”

Alessia gives you a look that has you wondering if she’s offended on the behalf of the striker. 

You roll your eyes before giving her a light shove. “Relax, all she saw was your hoodie. She’s not going to know it’s yours.”

Alessia’s eyes widen at the mention of the sweatshirt you snuck out of her house this morning. Usually it’s cute and all and she really does love seeing you in her clothes, but faced with the fact that it’s branded with the UNC logo on the front? Or the fact that Tobin knows you followed in Christen’s footsteps and went to Stanford instead of Chapel Hill? 

“My hoodie? Babe! Of course she’s going to know it’s mine!”

“Relax,” you repeat, hands coming up to rub at her tense shoulders. “There are four of you who played at UNC who are on the team now. She’ll be too busy trying to figure out if it’s you, Lotte, or Foxy to ever find the real culprit.”

If anything, your words only seem to agitate her more. Alessia slaps your hands away, arms crossing over her chest. “You’d rather Tobin think you’re dating Lotte or Em over me?”

Safe to say, any words you try to defend yourself with only digs you deeper into the hole.

Tobin’s pleasantly surprised to see you moping on the couch later that night.

.

It doesn't take as long as you’re expecting for Tobin to figure it out.

You’re doing your weekly check-in with your sister a couple days later when Christen’s face suddenly widens into a teasing smirk. 

“So Tobin tells me you have a new girlfriend.”

You resist the urge to fling your phone across the room. Instead, you do the mature thing and hang up the phone.

Christen doesn’t look impressed when she calls back and you pick up. 

“Oh don’t be a wuss. There’s nothing you can do without me knowing. So spill. Tell me all about her.”

 You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Really, Chris? This is what you want to talk about?”

Even from a continent away you can see the megawatt smile being sent your way. “Couldn’t take my number so you had to take out a girl who has it too, huh?”

Tobin cringes in her room when she hears the telltale sound of your phone crashing against the wall.

[greynatomy]

soft launch

ona batlle x reader

had this in the drafts for so long that i forgot abt it. then remembered i only wrote it cause i want ona to myself

prequel here

———

“Ona Batlle and Lucy Bronze share an embrace after Spain’s World Cup Win”

“Lucy Bronze and Keira Walsh broke up”

“Wonze is no more”

“Luna - Lucy Bronze and Ona Batlle ship name”

“i just saw lucy and ona walking around barcelona by themselves”

“keira posted a picture with narla. they’re still together”

“Wait, wait. Look at this one. Ona Batlle seen going home with Lucy Bronze after practice. Guess it’s illegal to be in Lucy’s car.”

“Mi mundo, why are you still reading those?” Ona asks, setting a cup of tea in front of where you sat on the kitchen table.

“It’s just so funny. Me and Keira were in the backseat too.”

“I called gunshots.” She shrugged.

“Shotgun, my love.”

“It is the same.”

“Sure.” You stand up from your seat, Ona sliding in to sit, you finding your place on her lap. A familiar action.

“We should tell people now, I think. Slowly?”

“Yes! A soft launch!”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“Like, we don’t hide our relationship but we don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“I like that.”

—

Ona and Lucy are at a meet and greet with some Barcelona fans. One fan, Andrea, stepped up to the microphone.

“Hi.”

“Hello. What’s your name?”

“Andrea.”

“Hi, Andrea. What’s your question?”

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve both are aware, but there’s been a lot of rumors and speculations on the internet.”

“Oh? About what?” Lucy asks with a smirk.

“Luna or Wonze.”

The crowd cheers, also wanting to know all the information.

“Okay, okay.” Ona speaks up this time, not able to stop the smile on her face. “Me and Lucy, we are very close. Only because we don’t really have a choice.”

“Yeah, if we did, I’d stay far away from Ona. Nah, I’m kidding. I met her back in England on Holiday. Wanted to surprise my sister, but saw someone else.” She points a thumb towards Ona.

“You’re dating her sister.” Someone stated, shocked, making the audience laugh.

“Oh, yeah. They are not shy with letting people know.”

“What about all the car rides and stuff.”

“Y/N is usually in the back with Keira. They love to gossip, most of the time making fun on all the edits.”

—

liked by lucybronze, keirawalsh and 57,638 others

ona.batlle soft launch take too long

view all comments

lucybronze those hands are a bit too low for my liking

↳ keirawalsh leave them alone

↳ yourinstagram yeah! leave me alone

↳ keirawalsh @/yourinstagram don’t push her buttons

yourinstagram just couldn’t help yourself huh?

↳ ona.batlle want to show you off

↳ user1 omg that was so cute

↳ user2 i need me an ona

[madamechrissy]

Silent Serenades

♔ An arranged Marriage with Duke Gojo ♔

♔ Pairings: Satoru Gojo x you, you x Nanami

♔ Warnings: Heavy, heavy fucking angst, jealousy, cunnilingus, fingering, sex, cheating on your side (reader's) surprise Satoru isn't a hoe for once! Toxic attraction, Gojo is toxic, reader is toxic. OOC. SO MUCH TENSION. Say hello to Mr. Nanami again. SLOW BURN remember that.

♔ Word count this chap: 9k

♔ Summary: you are the diamond of the season, he is the charming Duke, it’s the marriage of the decade. Prominent families joining, and it so happens that Duke Gojo is gorgeous. But, he doesn't want you, and now you're trapped in a loveless arranged marriage. Royal AU, dark Bridgerton vibes, Cruel Gojo x reader. OOC Set in 1800s England. Slow burn, enemies to lovers. Gojo is awful at first, HEAVY angst Basically- Gojo is a royal dick and doesn't wanna marry you

Comments/ reblogs always appreciated 🥰

Part Seven - Masterlist - Playlist

Part Eight- A Proposition

The Next Week

“What are we baking today, Mr. Nanami?” You ask teasingly, as your fluffy little puppy snuggles up on a little blanket Nanami folded, snacking on a ham bone Nanami had rather happily. Nanami chuckles as he unlaces your corset a bit, pecking little brushes of his lips on your neck.

“Muffins today, darling. The lawyer is coming in a couple hours, I figure we can have some tea and muffins ready. He’s a very nice man, also, a good friend of mine for years. Mmm, why do you smell so delectable?” Nanami inhales you right at the crook of your neck.

“You always say that, I am not sure, perhaps the bath essence I use.” He just hums, tying an apron around you, pecking more kisses on your cheeks, on your temple, as you fall into him.

“No, you smell better than usual. Maybe I missed you all week.” He whispers, hands pressing into your hips now, over the thin layers of your soft muslin gown, you exhale, body reacting to him, igniting under his firm touch.

“I missed you, Kento.” You turn then, blushing as he presses you back against him, you’re still nervous about making love again, so worried because last time it had hurt. You do not know if it will hurt again, even if it was pleasurable, you find yourself just a little nervous.

“You know we don’t have to do anything but bake, right darling?” You bite your lower lip, reaching back to brush your fingers across his cheek, feeling his light stubble prickly on your fingers.

“I am a little afraid, it did hurt and was a little uncomfortable… but I want to try again.” Nanami sighs, pecking a kiss on your lips softly, lips thankfully healed from Satoru Gojo’s bites.

You and Satoru had done nothing, you both have not even spoken, not since he came home that night, and you fully expected him to bring women home, but he’d been mostly locked up in his office. You’d walked by one night and his face had collapsed onto the desk. You only know through servant gossip that his Father had left many estates in shambles.

You both ate without a word, he would glance at you here and there, with cold blue eyes, but you enjoyed the silence, you enjoyed being able to compartmentalize your feelings, which were so jumbled for this man. You contemplate if you had any feeling at all, or if it was just inexperience and passion, and now you’re fully ready to take this dive.

To end this marriage.

You frequently find Satoru in your room, caressing your cheek, tucking you in your bed as you had that one time, you do not reciprocate, you do not react, let him be confusing and stupid, let him be lonely. What does it matter to you? The only reason you had not seen Nanami was a busy schedule of appearances as ‘the Duchess’ , a title you will not have soon.

This morning, Nanami had been very clear with his intentions.

“When I leave, I wonder where I will go? I think we have an estate out of town I could stay in…” You murmured to Nanami earlier, and he scoffed, cupping your face, lips a breath away.

“You will stay with me, love. How could you think I’d help and not offer you to stay?”

“But it would be so scandalous!”

“So we go to Gretna Green and marry.”

You blink at that, eyes wide. “Marry me? Are you… Kento, are you so sure about this?”

“I’m very serious. When have I not been?” You had exhaled, as your puppy happily ran around both your legs, and Nanami picked him up, smiling, as you do.

“You two are adorable together. I suppose we would make a cute family.” He smirks then, touching your stomach carefully.

“Darling I need more than a puppy, I’m afraid I’d have to put a little bun in this oven. When you’re ready.” You’d been reduced to a blushing mess, touching his hand, snuggling with him and the puppy. “Is it too bold?”

“You ask the lady who said ‘take me’ what is bold?” He chuckles, as you giggle, and you both had gently kissed.

A marriage, babies…

“I am not rich, but I am well off, but I promise I would give you all a good life. I would work so hard for it.” Nanami says softly, and you feel your eyes misty with emotions.

“I have no doubt of this, Kento.”

You never have to wonder what Nanami wants, the man says it, he does not go back and forth in a stupid, endless cycle, he is bold and forthright with you. You gasp when his hand slips back around to your tummy, you exhale, shivering a bit in his hold, as you all stand in his little kitchen.

“Will I get pregnant? From…” It’s his turn to blush, clearing his throat.

“No, I um… remember when I pulled out?” You turn to him, holding his hands and shyly looking down at your slippered feet.

“When you… on my tummy?” You croak out, and he nods then, brushing your hair back off your neck.

“Yes, darling, that was so you would not become pregnant. I would not put you in such a position, especially before we are to marry. We do not know how long the proceedings of the annulment will take.”

“So how do… how does someone… get pregnant?” You ask cautiously, and he clears his throat, taking a breath, thumbs brushing the backs of your knuckles.

“Well, I would cum inside you.”

“I’m confused.”

He laughs softly, tilting your chin up, kissing the tip of your nose. “I would not spill my seed on you, but in you.”

Your body heats up at the thought, and you find yourself shifting your thighs. Nanami notices this with a quirk of his lips, his hazel eyes narrowing. “That sounds most intimate, Sir.”

“It is very much so, I have not done that with a woman. But you seem as if you like the idea.” You bury your face shyly in his chest.

“Hush, you tease me Sir.” He moans ever so lightly, rubbing his hands up and down your back as he holds you.

“You’re adorable to tease, do you blame me Duchess?”

“I will soon not be Duchess.” You murmur, and he smiles against your temple as he holds onto you. “But I will still be darling of course.”

“Of course you will be. So I think we rushed the first time, I did not work you up enough, that’s my thoughts on why it was uncomfortable. You know the prior times where I spent more attention on you?” You nod against him. “Well perhaps I got too excited, like a boy in leading strings with his first.”

“Did you get so excited?” You tease back, and he sighs, kissing you softly, mouth hot and hungry, you whine softly into it, body reacting to his careful caresses.

“I did, I beat myself up all week, I could have made it much better, but you looked so sexy I lost it.”

“Oh, Kento it was still so good!”

“No, not as good as it could have been. Now you’re worried-”

“Not at all!”

“You are. It will not be painful again, but also I’ll make sure she’s fully ready, I promise, love.” You whine out softly again when he’s kissing you, holding you so close, picking you up for a moment. “Mmm, only if you want to try again. I can wait, however long you need.”

“Kento, I am not patient, you know.” You run your hands down his chest, and he grins at that, white teeth flashing.

“Darling, you must bake with me first.”

“Oh, the muffins, yes! Let me show you my skills, Sir.” You and Kento set to work now, and he’s adding ingredients as you’re stirring them up in a bowl, wrist turning as you work the spatula. Soon you all fall into a comfortable side by side, you’re licking batter off one of his fingers, and he’s lapping up powdered sugar from your nose with a laugh.

It’s quiet in Nanami’s apartments, it’s so sweet in it's quiet too, as you both are softly speaking here and there, and you’re pouring the batter into the little paper cups. Was this happiness, enjoying his company, feeling comfortable, feeling so special doing the most basic things? Not feeling conflicted, cold, that bottomless pit of despair that was your husband.

“Perfect, as always, love.” Nanami says then, and you grin up at him, watching his hazel eyes glint as they crinkle at the corners.

“They are going to be so delicious!” You agree, measuring and smoothing out each muffin, and then Nanami is taking off your apron carefully, hanging it up and then doing the same with his own.

“Something else here is delicious.” He whispers, cupping your chin in his hand, and you flush, his intent hitting hard.

“Oh indeed, Sir? Are you sure?” He hums to himself, slipping your skirts up your legs and thighs then, eyes locked on yours as he watches your eyes flutter shut when he finds your heat over your pantalets.

“I’m very sure. I think it’s… over here…” He slips his middle finger under your waist band, and you’re trembling, growing slick under his expert touch, so gentle as it strokes your slit.

“Th-there? You… um… sure?” He laughs softly, swirling his finger, his other hand gripping your backside.

“Let’s taste-test.” He pulls his finger back, sucking on the tip now, and you yank him down to you then, clinging to his strong shoulders, tip toeing as you kiss. “See, so yummy.”

“Is it now?” You bite your lower lip now, as he’s picking you up in his arms, kissing you over and over, and you melt into him, into this sweet, sexy man. A perfect man.

When he’s got you on the edge of his bed, he’s gently undressing you, exhaling at each revealed part of your skin, hands trailing down your shoulders, your breasts, thumbs playing your nipples, which respond eagerly. You’re still in your white stockings and garter belt, bare everywhere else, when he kneels between your thighs, sucking on a nipple.

“Mmm!” You cry out, as he’s looking up at you, adoringly, but there’s something that fucks with you, Satoru Gojo’s stupid blue eyes, so obsessively staring at you, as he’s furious of what you’ve done. As he called you a whore and choked you, biting your lips bloody. Why did your body respond like that!?

You know he is horrible, but you also know he has been with no one since that night, even your Nan had commented, and here you are, letting Nanami touch you, see you fully, Satoru had barely seen you, you had never seen him, his body. You’d done less with your husband by far than with Nanami.

And Satoru deserves that, and you don’t deserve his cruelty, why should you suffer endlessly if you could instead feel happy, feel desire, feel loved? When you just feel so good for once, it’s like with Nanami it’s as easy as a beautiful morning, like some lovely picnic at the park, and with Satoru Gojo, that Duke, it was like being plunged into the Atlantic ocean.

Freezing cold.

How could Satoru be so cold, yet when he touched you it was like fire that spread all over? You shake those thoughts off, it’s not as if anything could or should ever come from those feelings, for once Satoru leaves you alone, and you get a blissful reprieve from such endless sorrow, though you’re still a stranger in that manor. Soon, maybe you’d have a home.

A real home, something comfortable. Nanami’s apartments are perhaps two rooms in Gojo Manor, but they feel so lovely, so cozy. Nanami feels so good as he’s kissing you, his lips drinking you in, as your hands entangle in his soft locks, feeling the blunt ends of his cut, he’d just gone to the barber today, grinning as he’d taken his hat off and shown you.

You’d do anything to keep a smile on Nanami’s face, and never hurt this man again, to give your full self and heart into it. Your eyes roll back when he finds you again, your eager pussy, hips rocking up for more of his rough hands, but gentle touches, and his lips part as he watches you, as he’s pushing a thick finger in your little hole.

“Mmm, s’good Ken!” You cry out, and he pauses, smiling a bit, pecking kisses down the side of your face.

“Ken, hmm? Do I have a nickname darling?” You smile at him, nodding then, before gasping in pleasure as he presses on that spot.

“Of course you do. Don’t I have a nickname?” He exhales, spreading your thighs apart now, hands on your waist as he pushes you to lay back, you’re gasping as he’s flicking his tongue on your clit, still using that finger. “Kento!”

“Mmm, I like Ken. Use it, darling.” He teases with a grin, and you giggle but it’s cut off when he’s swirling your clit with the tip of his tongue, and he’s spreading you wide, moaning against your pussy, and you’re feeling that heat build. You’re writhing under him, and he’s humming against you. “That’s it, love. Good girl.”

At that, you’re soaring even higher, as he’s looking up at you with that lazy gaze, lavishing your every inch, focusing on your clit more and more, and you’re clinging to him tightly, “Ken… going to…”

“Mmm, yes love.” He says softly, and diving back down, then you’re cumming all over his handsome face, and he’s still licking you, in little circles, drawing more wetness. Then he is smacking kisses on the lips of your sex, sliding up, his chin glistening, making you blush.

“Ken.” You say softly, reaching down to feel him over his trousers, so thick and hard already, and your tummy clenches, still so nervous. You don’t know if you made the right decision last time, so upset, now with a week of clarity you hope you’re more prepared emotionally.

“We do not have to do more, I could just do that, you know.” He says then, ever the gentleman Nanami is. You pull out his length, exhaling and kissing his tip, looking up at him then, and his eyes flutter shut, jaw clenching as you swirl your tongue around him, sucking him into your mouth. “Darling, you’re so good. You’re… you’ve only… with me?”

You pause then, blinking, as Nanami’s holding you back a bit. “I have not done this with anyone.”

“Not even him?” He asks then, and you back away, legs closing, tears pricking your eyes, making Nanami curse, covering his eyes with his hand now. “Fuck, please forget I asked that.”

“I have not done that with him. I know I hurt you telling you what he’s done, I feel horrible still. Maybe I should check on those muffins?” You stand then, and he grabs your shoulders carefully, pulling you against him.

“Please, I’m sorry. I know I can’t be this way, but the thought of him with you makes me so sick. I want you all to myself.” He whispers, kissing you once more, and you exhale, understanding him, how could he be okay with you still living with Gojo, why wouldn’t he worry? “That was wrong of me to do. Now you’re wanting to just leave my bed and you look so pretty on it.”

You look down now, swallowing, your throat dry as you try to focus. “Perhaps we should not go so far if you’re still hurting from me having done something with him?”

“No, no, fuck I want you so badly I cannot think of anything else.” He whispers, cupping your face gently, tilting your face up to look at him, feeling his passion with every breath, and you feel so fucking awful, how can you even be with someone like Nanami Kento? When you have thoughts of Satoru Gojo, he should be upset, you had so easily betrayed Nanami.

You will not even be with Gojo, stay with him.

You must shove the thoughts away.

“I have not done anything but kiss him once since you and I were intimate, and he angrily kissed me. Clearly upset. That’s what I do, I hurt people.” You whisper, feeling emotions stuck in your throat, unable to look at him, at his sweet expression and handsome features. It is what you do, you hurt Nanami, you hurt Satoru, even if he is horrible.

You hurt yourself.

You try to pull back, as you now are too worried of hurting him, your sweet Nanami, and you can tell the toll it takes on him. Nanami doesn’t let you leave his embrace, however, he’s pulling your naked body closer, cupping your face with one hand, eyes glimmering with his own emotion.

“You do not hurt me. I should not have asked.” His brows knit together, and you shake your head.

“You should ask, and I hate that you have to. It’s hurting me to see the pain on your face.” You say brokenly, and Nanami kisses you then, more passionate than he usually does, more intense now, lips firm against yours. You inhale him, that soft sandalwood mixing with the blueberry muffins you all make, intoxicating, and you feel him so strong, so sure.

“Please forget this moment. Let me make it up to you.” He asks pleadingly, and you shake your head.

“It’s fine, I promise. No need to make anything up to me, it’s just how you feel.” You brush his hair back with a tremulous little smile, looking up at him, then gasping as he’s picked you up again, laying you in his bed, sinking between your thighs, making you gasp.

“I’m not done with you just yet, darling.” He’s kissing down your neck, and you moan softly as he licks and sucks that spot behind your ear, and you’re shivering in pleasure, in desire. “I’m sorry I lost it around you just a bit, how can I not want you for just me?”

He’s gripping you tighter with those big hands, and you’re falling apart under his touch. “S’okay, Ken. Express yourself, don’t be afraid of speaking your- ah- feelings, it’s- ngh!”

He’s biting your neck now, hands sliding down your thighs, pulling one up over his arm, as he leans up and looks down at you, sandy hair falling over a brow. You bite your lower lip under his intense study of you, your breasts heaving up and down, nipples pronounced and aching.

“I fear I’ll scare you away, pretty Duchess.” You shake your head, brushing that hair back, pecking a kiss on his chin. “I crave for me to be the only man for you, the only one to touch you.”

“Oh, Ken- ah!” He’s pressing against your entrance now, exhaling, his eyes locked on yours, studying your reactions. You nod, testing it by rolling your hips up, and he moans, pressing deeper, you brace for pain, but there isn’t any, just a fullness, just a lot of stretching, pressure. “Mmm!”

“Are you alright my love?” He whispers, teeth clenched, and you nod, sucking in a breath as he strokes your face, shoving in so deep, you’re so wet it doesn’t hurt at all but it’s so much pressure.

“I’m so full? It’s a lot.” He pulls back a bit, sliding his fingers inside you instead of his cock, crooking them up as he’s kissing you over and over, and you’re clinging to his back, feeling the strong muscles contract. He makes you cum again, drinking your cries, then slides in, and fuck it feels so good then, you moan into his mouth.

“That’s it, you need a lot of warm up, I see.” He teases, and you giggle, breathless, as he holds one of your hands, entwining your fingers together. “Better, love?”

“Much. You can move, Sir.” You tease, then gasp as he does, as he begins, your back arching. He is stroking in and out of you, rolling his hips and bracing himself over you, lips peppering kisses everywhere he can, as your eyes roll back and your toes curl, and you feel such intense sensations. “Ken!”

“That’s it, my perfect darling. Cum on me, please, let me feel you.” He whispers, so husky, and his words along with his motions make you shatter, cumming all over him, pulsing around his cock. He pauses, sucking in a breath, head falling back. “You feel so exquisite, darling.”

“Ngh, y-you feel s’good.” You whisper back, as the gentle waves rock over you, and Nanami’s slowing his thrusts, kissing you sweetly.

“Wish I could cum inside you, so badly.” He says and you get flustered, now that you know what that means. “I won’t yet, love.”

“Yet.” You whisper back, earning his smile, and fuck Nanami’s smile is brilliant, as he makes sure you feel so good, as he’s caressing you everywhere you’re sensitive, as he gently rocks his hips, so not to hurt you, and soon he’s finding his own release, pulling out and resting his head on yours as he cums, sticky hot ribbons all over your belly button and tummy.

“Oh my god, you feel too good.” He says then, kissing you as you lean up on your elbows, and you blush furiously at the sight.

“It seems so wanton, Sir.” You say with a giggle, and he smirks.

“It is rather wanton, I’m afraid. I corrupted you.”

“Not at all. I am no angel.”

“You look an angel. Let me clean you.” He’s gently running a washcloth over your pussy, and you hiss a bit. “Too much love?”

“No, just a lot to get used to.” You smile reassuringly, running your hand up his chiseled cheekbone. “It was so much easier this time. I was afraid for nothing.”

He exhales in relief, shoulders stooping slightly. “Thank the gods, I was so worried.”

“No need to worry, indeed, I believe I quite enjoy it.” He grins now, and you both kiss over and over as the timer beeps, and he pulls you close against him, as you snuggle into his embrace.

“I want to take you out to town, not hide you.” He says huskily after you’ve dressed and turned off the oven, and you frown, feeling his need and devotion. “So beautiful they’ll question what you see in me.”

You glare then, shoving at his chest. “Excuse me! You’re so handsome, you better stop that!”

He grins now, mischievous. “How will you punish me hmm?”

“I could come up with ideas.” He laughs, the sound resonating in the room, and then he checks his bronze pocket watch.

“I eagerly look forward to them. It’s almost time to meet the lawyer, are you sure you’re ready, darling?” He asks softly, and you nod then, as a million thoughts whirl inside your mind.

A life of your own, with a man that loves you.

Baking muffins and making love, versus…

Whatever the fuck Gojo was.

“I’m ready.”

Later that evening 

You and your puppy Satoru walk into the manor, and for the… seventh day in a row? Satoru is not with a woman. You tilt your head curiously as the puppy Satoru comes to the Duke, and he pets him with a little smile, looking exhausted. Your puppy loves him and you’re not sure why, but it seems Gojo is also a little affectionate with him now.

Satoru Gojo looks at you then, assessing your body, and his lips go in a terse line. “Have fun, Duchess?” Duke Gojo asks, his voice dark and desperate, as you clutch your stack of papers tightly to your chest.

“I did indeed. And you, Duke?” You ask nonchalantly, coming into the dining room, lit by the soft chandeliers, as Satoru pours over his ledger as he sips on whiskey. “Is that your dinner?”

He laughs bitterly. “What care you? You care nothing for me. I am surprised you’ve even spoken to me today.” He says, gripping his glass so tight his knuckles whiten, veins popping out the back of his hand. You feel guilt eating at you, but you shouldn’t.

You shouldn’t.

“You care naught for me, so what does it matter?” You say, and he gulps his drink down now, sighing, shutting his swirling, tired blue eyes.

“I’m tired of watching you come back with marks from another man. I’m so fucking tired of it.” He speaks roughly, looking at you with eyes glassy from drink, red from exhaustion. You scoff as you walk forward, so close to him, that you inhale him, and his scent.

“And you-”

“I’m with no one!” His desperation kills you, as he looks over your body with silent hunger. “Can’t say the same for you.”

“Well welcome to my first couple of weeks with you, manwhore.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Maybe you should bring them around, you’re awfully sad not fucking random women.”

“Sure, that’s why I’m sad.” He stands then, pouring another drink, as you come up to him then, sucking up your stupid feelings. “What on Earth is this!?” Satoru demands, fingering the enormous stack of legal papers you hand him then, and you giggle a bit, earning his icy blue glare.

“Have you learned to read, Duke Gojo?” You tap the top of the stack, and watch his brows draw together.

“What the… bloody hell…” He’s thumbing through them now, fervently going over it, mouth open, as you cling to the little satchel with the gift and note Nanami Kento gave you at the meeting.

“Indeed, it’s all in there, I had a lawyer write it up. Witnesses of our lack of intimacy are on page twenty two.” You say with a grin, and he glares, flipping to it, mouth wide open.

“Suguru and Shoko signed it!?”

“Mmhmm, they did not mind at all confirming those details, that we have not even once shared a room, let alone a bed. Oh, by the way, I kissed Suguru.”

“You what!?” He stands then, furiously, as you giggle.

“Indeed, we would have gone much further but… alas, he’s a little loyal to you I suppose. I believe he wanted to… oh, lick under my skirts he said! Why it’s a popular thing, all you men want to. Hmm. Should have let him, huh?” You smirk as you watch Gojo lose it, as you turn and spin, as if in a dance, heading to grab a glass of wine. “Mmm, yummy.”

“You insolent fucking brat. You kissed my best friend?” You shrug, nodding a bit, as his eyes swirl with emotions, as they dilate with anger.

“As I said, I should have done more, he was such a good kisser, hmm.”

“You fucking brat.” He snatches you by your free wrist, and you suck in a breath, steeling yourself with a nasty smile. You’ve had enough of trying to break through, of caring, you’re so far gone from him, you just can’t wait to hurt him, just the tiniest bit, before you never see him again. “Better kisser than me?”

“Oh yes, so gentle, not crude and nasty and-”

“You loved my kisses.” He whispers huskily, earning your laugh.

“Sure, whatever you think. Ah, you know Duke Gojo, someone else signed, take a gander.” You sip your wine, raising a brow, as he sputters again.

“Catherine!?”

“Mmm, yes. I saw her and we had lunch, she is too good for you in my opinion, quite a gem that girl. She apologized for everything. I think we’ll be friends!” You sip more, a little dripping on your lips, you touch the tip of your tongue to your lower lip as Satoru looks at you hungrily, then back at the paper, forlorn. “Continue on now.”

“You’ll give me half the dowry, why!?”

“It’s the best option, to make sure it’s swift, what a splendid deal, a month of marriage for that much money!”

“You wish to get rid of me so badly?” He whispers, looking up through his snowy lashes, and you nod then, tensing a bit.

“I’m willing to give you seventy percent, but please allow me thirty, for any children I have. I want to make sure they have something.” Satoru grabs you by your shoulders then, glaring.

“Children?”

“Mmm, of course, Kento wants two or three. If we shall be so lucky! And if they’re girls, they’ll need a dowry from me.”

“Kento. That’s his name?” He whispers, and you nod just a bit, as his breaths grow heavy, as he blinks tears. “Children with him?”

“Indeed, it’s what I’ll want, to be a mother. I love children. You’d know that if you ever asked about me, if you ever cared.” You clear your throat, stepping back, pouring another glass. “All in all, it’s a splendid deal. I suggest you go over it with your lawyer, I am quite exhausted, I do not know how you have energy after sex.”

“After… after…” You giggle again, snatching his bottle and turning, your skirts swishing behind you. “Come back here!”

“No thanks, I’ve had enough of looking at you. Go find some whores to fuck, it’s your only hobby it seems. Tata!” You saunter up the stairs, hearing the crashing, hearing his growl, then hearing his cries, soft sobs he assumes you don’t hear, but you’re happy he’s sobbing.

Fuck Satoru Gojo.

You eagerly set the bottle of wine down on your table, locking your chamber door and sipping one more, as you open the note.

My love, I cannot get you a ring yet, but please have this, it is not much but I wanted you to wear something from me. I will count the seconds until I may gaze upon your sweet face again.

Yours,

Nanami.

You tear up then, as your heart swells for this man, this man that has become so dear, remembering his caresses this morning, remembering the pleasure you found in his arms. The second time was so much better, so good you crave him already again, aching until next time you can feel him, filling you so full.

You shake yourself out of this heated dream, shaky hands opening a little velvet pouch, revealing a little delicate gold necklace, with a tiny little gold charm, and on the back it was two letters, K.N., his initials of course. Your heart thuds as you take off the heavy diamonds and sapphires Satoru’s money had bought, putting on instead this little necklace.

Fuck it feels good to rip off Satoru, and replace it with Nanami.

You hear a knocking on your door, and you roll your eyes.

“Go the fuck away, Duke. I’m done speaking.” You finger the necklace, smiling at your reflection. Nanami’s wife one day? It seemed so far away, but now…

Now anything is possible.

“Please, let me in. Please can we talk?” He is pleading, and you hear it, how desperate he is, and fuck if you were stupid you would let him, but you must become stronger. You can never, ever trust this man.

“No.” You hope your voice sounds more firm than you feel.

“Please, can I just… explain myself!? Please! I have not done anything since that day, could you just… fucking talk to me?” He’s slamming a hand on the door, resting his head, and you want so badly to let him in, fuck. You cannot fall for this.

You take a breath. “No thanks. Don’t care to hear. Good night Duke.” You hear his footsteps fade away, and you take several breaths, tilting your head as you see the small glimmer of hope. “Mrs. Nanami, hmm… I quite like that sound.” You whisper to yourself, picturing it.

A beautiful bride, a handsome husband, happiness, there would be no Nanami Kento fingering a maid in the gardens, there would be no Nanami Kento smacking you and downing you on your wedding night, and you sobbing on the cold marble floor of your room, alone.

No, he would adore you.

You hear Satoru slamming his own door to his bedchamber, you hear things flinging against the wooden walls, tentatively walking to where your walls connect, placing your forehead on it. You hear him then, cursing, and it breaks you when you hear pieces and words, wishing your stupid heart did not feel bad, wishing you were not so caring, so kind.

“Worthless… why can’t I… why did I… she’s not her… she’s in love… I can’t do this… fucking hell…” It’s a long time before he settles, and you choke on your own quiet sobs, wishing this stupid man could have not caused this. Somewhere deep in this evil manwhore is a tortured fucking soul, one you recognize, because you are also one, just wrapped in a pretty bow.

You find yourself sobbing right with him, wishing more than anything there was not this foolish barrier of his own making, that Satoru Gojo did not push everything away, and suffers alone. But you also suffer right along with him, struggling to swipe your tears away and laying in your bed, curled into a little ball, as you wonder at what a different life would be.

One where he just had tried.

That night you feel his presence again, feel Gojo’s long fingers caressing your cheek as you sleep, and for once you don’t pretend, you grab his wrist, opening your eyes and blinking in the dark. He gasps, tensing as he’s hovered over you, with his face too perfect to exist, so beautiful it makes you ache, makes you wish his soul was half that pretty.

But his soul was cold, dark, he was cold, dark, an icy pond that you’d be tempted to skate on, only to fall through the cracks, and lose your breath. And you feel his breath, blowing back your baby hairs on your forehead gently, as his blue eyes glitter even in the dark, the moonlight casting shadows on the sharp planes of his face.

“Why do you come here at night?” You ask finally, and he gulps, unmoving, lips parted but saying nothing. You scoff. “Of course, when will you answer anything.”

“I come here because you look like an angel in your sleep.” He says hoarsely, and you suck in a breath at that, as you hear his vulnerability, his thumb stroking the apple of your cheek. “I can forget how much I have hurt you, you look peaceful, I can… pretend.”

“I…” You don’t know how to answer, letting go of his wrist then, leaning up and clearing your throat. “I do not understand you.”

“I do not understand myself.” He says, sitting on your bed at the edge, but far too close, you can feel the heat of his body as you study him, his dark circles so prominent on his pale skin.

“Are you not sleeping well?” You ask then, sitting up and scooching back, feeling your cool silk pillows over your thin night shift. He laughs without humor.

“No, I’m not sleeping at all.” Satoru rakes a hand through his snow white hair, messier than it usually is. He has stubble you’ve never seen as well, his cheeks just a little hollowed.

“Maybe you miss your whores?” You ask, raising a brow, and he snorts, rolling his pretty blue eyes.

“Indeed, you seem to be the one fucking now, I have no time. I have too much to try to fix.”

“Ah, your father’s mess?”

“You know?”

“Just a bit. Seems he tripled the taxes in the villages.” Satoru nods, then looks at you carefully. “What is it?”

“A proposition.”

Your turn to snort. “What sort of proposition?”

“Not sex, do not worry. You have enough sex I’m sure, with your… Kento is his name, hmm?” You absentmindedly touch that necklace, and Satoru’s eyes dart to it curiously. “Do you like it, sex?”

You laugh at that, shaking your head and leaning up. “We are speaking of sex with each other?”

“Why not, we’re not together, we never will be. Perhaps we could at least not hate each other at the end of this?” You blink a bit in shock, leaning back.

“You will always hate me.” You whisper, the words like vitriol in your throat, and Satoru sighs, looking away, rubbing the back of his neck, his lips open and close, then repeating the action, making your mind run, what exactly was he thinking, and why were you still intrigued.

“I am trying not to hate you.” His words are soft, and just confusing. “I've been trying to avoid having another woman while we’re still together here, since that night, I know it was hurtful to you…”

You glare as you remember it, his nasty words, his slaps… his kiss, fuck you wish you remembered th… “The night you fucked the ‘entire brothel’ you mean?”

“Two women.”

“Oh, only two!”

He glares. “Insolent brat. Will you let me finish?”

You sigh. “Fine then.

“I  was hurt that you seem to not want me, not one bit, do you? You wanted another man.” He bites out the words carefully, as you hear that hurt in his voice, the voice that had been so tortured.

You glare. “And you want other women.”

“I should have understood what you did, I pushed you there.” His voice breaks, vulnerable, as his fists clench and unclench. “I thought I could fix everything in one goddamn day, but you were already gone.”

“I was never here, really, you never let me be.” You’re struggling to keep in your emotions in the quiet night, but Gojo has tears trailing down his face, as he leans close, and you stop him. “Do not kiss me.”

“I was not going to. Just…” He brushes your hair back, touching your cheek gently, and you shiver, at how that touch alone ruins you, as he runs a thumb along your lower lip, eyes staring so intensely you feel them like a touch. “Of course anyone would want you, I was the one who denied you your marital rights. Of course you want an annulment. Who would want to be with me?”

You frown then, as his long white lashes lower. “All I know is your cruelty, Duke Gojo. I know nothing but that you did not want me.”

“But it was all a lie. All of it. I… it matters naught, I imagine this… Kento makes you happy, pleased?” You nod, and he fingers the little charm, flipping it over and then looking back at you. “Does he cum in you?”

“What!?” You smack his hand, glaring. “Do you cum in your mistresses?”

“Fuck no. I don’t want brats.” You sigh, rolling your eyes.

“That is about what I expected. Even when you marry a woman you love, and not me?” You ask, and he shakes his head.

“I will not have children, it’s best this way. I would not be a good father.” Your heart breaks then, for this cruel man, for this messy, fucked up Duke who you should not even speak to.

“Why do you think that?” You ask then, softly, and he smirks just a bit, brushing his fingers along your collarbone, goosebumps raising up, your nipples taut in the sheer gown, apparent more and more with your quick breaths. He notices, clearly, licking a full lower lip, as you tense, but he does not do more, his jaw locks.

“I am afraid I’d be like my father. I look just like him. They say I even act like him, and maybe I do.” You wonder then, what his father has done, but you should not care, it’s no excuse for him, none.

Why do you care?

“I will never talk to my child as my mother does.” You say softly, and he smiles a bit, dropping his hand, now resting on your thigh over a soft blanket.

“I know you would not.”

“Thus, we do not become our parents, but it’s ultimately up to you if you want children, it does not have anything to do with me. Well, it won’t soon.”

He blinks through more emotion, and fuck you just want to hug him, hold him, and how can you want this, how can you!? What is this lingering feeling squeezing your heart like a vise, ruining your goddamn soul? Why can you feel the very breath being sucked out of your lungs as you study this cold, broken, beautiful man.

“You are too kind, you know. Even when you’re nasty and use your tongue to whip those cruel comments, you’re still kind.” You bite your lower lip, brows drawing together as he studies you. “I suppose I have no right to ask about sex, I just would not like a child, especially another man.”

“He does not cum in me.” You say then, flushed, as you watch his fists clench on your blankets. “He cums on me.”

“On you? Ah.” He clears his throat, as you have the most awkward conversation you can imagine, talking to your husband about your lover. “And you cum?”

You’re blushing furiously, brushing your hair back, as you feel heat rising between your thighs. “Yes, I do.”

“During sex?”

“Yes.”

“Well at least you’re getting fucked properly.” You giggle then, at the ridiculous nature of this, and he looks at you with narrowed eyes.

“What do you care if I am? It would still be me getting fucked.”

“And how much do you cum?”

You roll your eyes. “During sex? Once or twice. The first time… it hurt a bit. Now it’s much more pleasurable.”

“Once or twice.” He smirks then, eyes drifting down your body slowly, and you clear your throat, blush back in full force as he assesses you. “That’s good for foreplay, but I try to have my women cumming until they can’t function.”

You gulp, throat dry now, fiddling with the bow on your bodice. “Kento is a caring, gentle lover to me. He cares about my pleasure.”

“Yes, well.” He leans forward, until your noses almost touch, and you inhale Satoru’s sweet scent, feel his cool breath on your overheated lips. “You’ll not find out, but I am not gentle, I fuck and I fuck hard. I’d fuck the shit out of you, beat that pretty pussy up till it’s a puffy mess, have your knees so weak you collapse.”

You say nothing, your heart pounding in your chest, as vivid images fill your addled brain, and all you can whisper is - “Ah.”

He chuckles just a bit, running his fingers up and down your cheek again. “Want to know why I really haven’t fucked anyone since the night you told me?”

“Why?” You whisper, eyes darting to his lips, struggling to keep your composure, where is your composure?

“Because I can’t cum, they can’t get me off, not when it’s you in my head, even knowing you’re fucking him, I’d choose you over anyone. And I hate it.” He speaks through gritted teeth, pulling your hair gently then, and you can’t stop the pathetic whine, and oh he notices.

“Why can’t you cum? You could before?”

“I haven’t been able to finish since you dripped down my mouth.”

“You could lick someone else?”

“I have.” You hate the lurch in your stomach. “It’s not special anymore, I suppose, thought I’d try it out. But it did nothing for me. Suppose the brothel workers enjoyed.”

“You are skilled.” He smirks again and you glare. “Somewhat.”

“Somewhat indeed. But no, Princess, I wouldn’t take it easy, especially now that you’re not a virgin, I’d have your legs in the air, fucking you so deep I bruise your insides, so deep I’m everywhere.” He says softly, as if he’s saying something sweet and not lewd, not ridiculous. You shiver as you feel that ache for him, the one that never goes away, the one you despise.

“I did not see you go so rough with your mistresses.” You say, and he grins fully now, with his sharp teeth.

“I said with you. I’d take out my anger on that perfect, tight little cunt, I’d fucking ruin you for him, until you’re crying pretty tears, covered in my cum, covered in bite marks, ass bruised from my smacks.” You have no clue what he means, but you’re fucking wet, hot and sticky, and his eyes lower as if the mother fucker could tell. “You’ll not have to find out, no worries.”

“Indeed.” Your voice breaks, and you clear your throat. “I very much enjoy my lover, I will not stop seeing him.”

“Here’s the proposition. You will stop fucking him just until we’re not together, and I also will see no women.”

“What, I do not believe you!”

“You have my word.”

“Why do I care!?”

“Because, I will give you the full dowry back, and agree to the annulment.” You gasp at that, looking at him wide eyed. “I never wanted it. Give it to your children you have with your baker.”

“I… that’s so generous?” You whisper, and Satoru shrugs.

“I’m rich enough. I’ll agree to it in a month’s time, but I need you to make appearances at the villages with me, help me make it right. You’re a lot kinder, and so loved by people, they will listen to you. If you can… pretend as we have been, a little longer, I will sign it with no issues, and even tell our families it’s our decision.”

“You only want me to help you?”

“Yes, I cannot do it alone, and… even if you’ll be gone soon, it would help me tremendously. Also, if I can make some amends to the horrible man I’ve been, and perhaps help you get rid of me, let you be happy…” He touches that gold necklace, and your heart is racing so hard you think it will just jump out. “Let you have children, have a smile on your face.”

“Why!? Why couldn’t you have been this way before!” You say then, so goddamn frustrated, and he frowns, looking away, locking up. Of course he is. “Why could you have not tried! Was I so terrible at first?”

“You were nothing but perfect. It’s all on me.” He clears his throat, leaning close, as you lean back, and he smiles sadly.

“So why no Nanami?”

“Just… please, give me that one thing. And you’ll be free soon to be with him as much as you want.” He says then, and you sigh, thinking of how you will explain this to Nanami, who was already so… possessive. What would this do to him?

But this was a good idea, and you could be free to marry him, to move on, and have enough money to take care of any children. And Satoru helping you with both of your parents was invaluable. All to just pretend for a bit, and you do not mind helping the village or it’s inhabitants.

“I’ll do it.” You say then, holding your hand out for a shake, and he takes it, smiling a bit, the corner of his lips quirking, as he brings it to his lips, shocking you, Satoru was no gentleman.

“I do not deserve your kindness, but it’s appreciated. I should… leave you to your sleep.” You want to pull him to you, you want to kiss his pretty lips, as you sit there, eyes wide as you look at him, as he stands, and your hand still grip his. “What, you want a demonstration of how I’d ruin you for anyone?”

“No, you dick!” You scowl, smacking him then, and he’s chuckling, that devious grin far too attractive.

“Your nipples lie every time.”

“I’m cold, being around such a cold man.” You say, crossing your arms over your breasts, only for him to lean down, pressing his full lips to your cheek, then your jaw, then your ear. You hate how your head falls back, how your cunt throbs from just that around nothing, how you bite your lip so hard.

“Oh Princess, I am actually… burning hot. Burning for you.” You cry out, shaking your head, and he sighs, hand cupping your face, tilting your chin up to stare at him in the night. “I do burn for you, but you don’t want me, and I don’t blame you. I will let you be, once I get some progress done. I can keep to myself.”

“I… oh. Um. All right.” You say then, raising your brows as he pecks a sweet kiss on you temple. “How can I trust you’re not lying?”

“You cannot take my word I am sure, but I will honor the deal. In a month’s time you can be free of me.” The pain in his voice almost breaks you, but you nod, trying to suck up your emotions. “We have an accord, Princess?”

“We have an accord, Duke.”

“Seal it with a kiss?”

“No!” He’s chuckling, ruffling your hair as he stands then, heading toward the door, and every part of your stupid body is begging him to come back, so you shove it down hard. But… “Duke Gojo?”

He turns at the door, eyes dark from the shadows, but you feel it, his desire mirroring yours, but it’s stupid, and foolish, and what’s it matter!? So what if he’s not a whore for a moment, he would soon not be yours, and you not his, and you both could live your lives.

It was ideal.

“Um, good night.” You mumble, unsure why you stopped him in the first place, and you watch his face soften, before hardening a bit, lips in a firm line.

“Good night, Princess.” It sounds too good coming from Satoru Gojo’s lips, and you wish you could not enjoy them so much, could ignore everything this man does to you. Are you stupid to believe him? “I swear, I will keep my word.” He cuts off your thoughts, as if he read them yourself, and you give him a little nod, pulling your comforter over yourself, shivering in the chill of the room.

“I will believe you and keep our agreement.” You say softly, and he nods a bit, eyes lingering, then he leaves, shutting your door with a quiet click.

What was that?

What were you thinking?

But somehow, you feel he was being sincere, for once, and you want to trust him, that he was sincere, that somewhere in there was a decent human being. He wanted to help others, and perhaps you could leave this with less hatred and pain in your heart, but there is one looming thought beating you senseless, ruining your mind, your heart, your soul.

That if you spend time with Satoru, your feelings will develop beyond whatever insane passion you feel, and you cannot open up to him, you must comparmentalize it, see it as a partnership, so you can both be free. It’s what he wanted, right, to not be with you?

She’s not her.

I’m trying not to hate you.

I should hate you.

You’re just like-

Who was she? It’s a thought that keeps you up for some time, until you finally fade into a restless sleep, one where you dream of Nanami, and his heart broken over you, because you’ve hurt him again. And you’re left alone, on the side of the cobblestone streets, having destroyed everything.

You wake up in a cold sweat, walking over to your little pedestal sink, rinsing your face carefully, looking in the mirror, and you start to wonder, who are you? You’re not that girl you were when you got here, and you can barely remember who she was anymore, so consumed by Satoru Gojo and now Nanami Kento.

You lean over the sink, feeling sick, as your hands touch the mirror of your looking glass, and your head rests upon it. You picture Satoru’s arms around you, picture him fucking you like he said, rough and brutal, perhaps choking you, smacking you, until you can’t walk.

You see it, you feel it, brutal grip and his huge cock, as he’s got those long fingers wrapped around your throat, only to punch the mirror angrily, only serving to hurt your own fist. You shake it, cursing yourself as you hold your hand to you, as you feel the anguish take you over.

Who are you?

Until the next, dear masochistic readers <3

Part Nine