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the-winter-spider · 2 days ago

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Say Don't Go | Part Two

Pairings: College!Hockey Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Drinking

A/N: I KNOW the poll said yall wanted the next part to Invisible first but i already had this edited! The next part of invisible will be posted in a couple hours 🫶🏻 i just need to edit it! We about to angsttyyy dick head bucky sooon, so enjoy the bliss of this filler chapter and sweet bucky NEXT chapter before hes a prick lol

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Once in the quiet of your dorm, you pull out your phone and text Steve, letting him know you made it back safely. But as you sit on the edge of your bed, Bucky’s words echo in your mind, his touch lingering like a warm memory.

You open the door to your dorm as quietly as you can, hoping not to wake Wanda, your roommate and one of the few girls on campus who’s genuinely kind to you. But when you slip inside, you see her sitting at her desk, textbooks open and highlighter in hand, a soft smile spreading across her face as she spots you.

“I don’t know whether to say you’re home early or late,” she teases, glancing at the clock and then back at you. Then her eyes zero in on the jacket draped over your arm, and her eyebrows raise. “Is that his jacket?”

You shrug, trying to act casual. “He was just walking me home.”

Wanda rolls her eyes, setting down her highlighter with a grin. “Please. You two are playing one of the most drawn-out games of cat and mouse I’ve ever seen.” She tilts her head thoughtfully. “For somebody who can body-check a grown man into a sideboard, I don’t know why he’s so nervous to go after you.”

You feel a blush rise to your cheeks and set the jacket on your desk, avoiding her gaze. “Maybe he’s just…embarrassed.”

Wanda lets out a little laugh and lightly slaps her arms in exasperation. “He is definitely not embarrassed. You’re one of the most beautiful girls on campus, you know.”

“Stop it, Wanda,” you mumble, trying to hide your smile as your cheeks heat up even more. “You’re making me blush.”

She laughs, leaning back in her chair. “Fine, fine. But I’m serious.” She stretches, rubbing her eyes. “Anyway, I have to get back to studying. If the light bothers you, just throw a pillow at me or something.”

“Don’t worry,” you reply, stifling a yawn as you settle into bed. “I can sleep through anything.”

Wanda grins, putting on her headphones and returning to her notes. You close your eyes, snuggling under the covers, and let out a sigh, replaying the events of the night in your mind. Bucky’s words, his touch, and the warmth of his jacket linger, making it hard to keep the giddy smile off your face.

Just as you’re drifting off, your phone vibrates on the nightstand. You reach for it, and your heart does a little flip when you see Bucky’s name on the screen. His text is simple, but it’s enough to make your night: Can’t wait to see you tomorrow.

With a smile, you type back: You’re a hopeless flirt, Barnes. Then you set your phone down with a soft sigh. Wrapped in his jacket’s comforting scent, you fall asleep, already looking forward to whatever tomorrow—and that party—might bring.

The next morning, your alarm jolts you awake at 10:00 a.m., and you groan, fumbling to turn it off. Blinking against the light, you see a handful of notifications: three texts from Steve, one from Wanda, and one from Bucky. Starting with Steve’s, you open it and grin at his messages:

S: Hey sleepyhead, how is it I’m the one up late and you’re still in bed?

S: We have brunch plans!!! Don’t stand up the captain of your undefeated hockey team ;)

S: Alright, Bee, I’ll be at Rosie’s at 11:00 a.m. sharp. If you’re late, you’re buying.

You can’t help but laugh at the nickname, Bee. A nickname that only Steve called you because every time you would drink you would brag to the world, or anyone that would listen that you've gone your whole life without being stung by a bee and that was your superpower mainly it was because you would run for the hills if you even heard a buzz, nothing scared you more than the unknown pain of a bee sting. You texted back: Im up, Im up....and starving, can't wait to be ON TIME and order the whole menu, since its your turn to pay <3

Next, you open Wanda’s text:

Wanda: You snore a lot… and I think you may sleep-talk, too. Don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul… especially Bucky ;)

You groan, shaking your head, not even sure what you might’ve said in your sleep, but with Bucky on your mind last night, you wouldn’t put it past yourself. Finally, you open Bucky’s text, and your heart skips a beat at his reply from last night: Hopeless for you

The words sink in, leaving a warm, fluttery feeling in your chest that you try to brush off as you get ready.

When you arrive at Rosie’s Café, Steve is already at a booth by the window, grinning as he watches you through the glass. He dramatically waves, like he’s greeting some long-lost friend, and you roll your eyes, laughing as you slide into the booth across from him.

“Five minutes late,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “I was betting on ten.”

You stick your tongue out at him, snagging the coffee cup he’s already ordered for you. “Please, I’m practically early.”

Steve snorts, taking a sip of his coffee. “Whatever you say, Bee.”

“So,” Steve says, leaning forward with a mischievous grin, “I heard from a reliable source that Buck walked you home last night. Left Tiffany all high and dry.”

You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool. “We were just walking home. Bucky was being… Bucky.”

“Right,” Steve says, drawing out the word with a smirk. “Because ‘just walking home’ means wearing his jacket, right?”

You feel your cheeks warm. “It’s not like that. Honestly, it’s just harmless flirting. Bucky and I—we’re friends, because of you i might add...that’s all.” you shrug

Steve’s expression softens, his teasing fading. “Bee, it’s never just ‘nothing’ with you. Look, I’m only saying this because I’m looking out for you. You’re my best friend, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.” He pauses, taking a sip of his coffee before adding, “Bucky’s a great guy. But he… he’s got a way of being uncertain. He doesn’t always know what he wants.”

His words settle heavily in your chest, and for a second, you feel your heart dip. But you push away any sign of that, meeting his gaze with a smile. “It’s fine, Stevie. I’m a big girl. I know how to take care of myself.”

He sighs, nodding, though he doesn’t seem fully convinced. “I know you do. Just… remember, i've always got your back, alright? No matter what.”

You reach across the table, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I know. Thanks, Steve.” And as he smiles, you can’t help but feel a little more grounded, even as the thought of Bucky lingers in the back of your mind, stirring a mess of hope and caution.

Just as you’re about to respond, the server arrives with plates of food, sliding them onto the table with a cheerful “Enjoy!” You raise an eyebrow at Steve as he grins, looking ridiculously proud of himself.

“Of course you already ordered for me,” you say, picking up your fork. “Couldn’t resist, huh?”

Steve shrugs, stuffing a forkful of food into his mouth. “I know you too well, Bee,” he says through a mouthful, barely managing not to laugh.

You lean back, giving him a playful side-eye. “Alright, so who’s this ‘reliable source’ that’s apparently got all the gossip on my night?”

Steve smirks, pausing just long enough for dramatic effect. “From the man himself.”

You blink, surprised. “Bucky told you he walked me home?”

“Yup,” he replies, scrolling through his phone before holding it up so you can see the text. “Got a message from him last night saying he made sure you got back safe and sound or whatever. Real gentleman, right?”

You glance at the screen, reading the short message from Bucky: Walked her home. All safe and sound.

You look back at Steve, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through your chest. “Well, that was nice of him. Good to know he’s updating the Captain on his whereabouts.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but there’s a hint of a smile in them. “Come on, don’t act like you’re not a little flattered. He doesn’t do this for just anyone.”

You laugh, stabbing a piece of pancake with your fork to cover up your blush. “He’s just looking out for me. Like you said, he’s a good guy.”

Steve just shakes his head knowingly. “Keep telling yourself that, Bee.”

You shift the conversation quickly, hoping to steer attention away from you and Bucky. “Anyway, how’s Natasha?”

Steve raises an eyebrow, smirking a bit. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “Since when?”

Steve’s cheeks turn a little red, but before he can respond, a couple of college guys pass by the table, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Hey, Rogers! Great game last night, man. You killed it!”

Steve flashes them a grin. “Thanks, man. Appreciate it.”

As they walk off, he turns back to you, clearing his throat and regaining his composure. “Well…maybe this time feels different,” he admits, a bit shyly. “I really like her. I’m actually thinking of asking her out on a real date.”

You break into a smile. “Congratulations, Stevie. I’m happy for you. She seems like a great girl.”

He gives you a hopeful look. “So you approve?”

Laughing, you shake your head. “I don’t have to approve anyone you want to be with, Steve.”

“Yeah, you do,” he says, his voice soft but sincere. “You’re my best friend. Your opinion matters to me.”

You soften, feeling a pang of affection for him. “Of course I approve. She’s beautiful, confident, and she’s a genuinely nice person.”

Steve’s face lights up. “I think you two would actually be great friends. You and Natasha? I can totally see it.”

You nod, a warm feeling spreading through you at his happiness. “I think so too.”

As brunch winds down, Steve leans back, watching you with a small smile. “So… ready for the party tonight? I hear everyone’s going to be there, even Bucky’s going all out.”

You try to play it cool, shrugging. “Yeah, should be fun. I mean, it’s not every day the undefeated hockey team throws a party.”

Steve chuckles, clearly amused. “Yeah, well, Bucky might have mentioned a few times how he’s hoping to see you there.”

Your cheeks heat up, but you try to play it off with a casual smile. “Well, I’ll make sure to look my best then.”

Steve raises an eyebrow, giving you a knowing look. “Don’t worry too much, Bee. Pretty sure you already do... Are you gonna wear that?" He gestures to Bucky varsity jacket folded beside you nicely

You sigh, glancing down at Bucky’s jacket folded neatly beside you. “Probably not. But I’ll bring it to give it back to him.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Give it back? Why? Looks good on you.”

You shake your head, laughing a little. “Come on, Stevie. I can’t just show up wearing something like this—that would make it seem like we’re… you know, together.” You can’t help but feel a pang of regret as you say it, but you push it down. “And we’re absolutely not together.”

Steve gives you a look, one of those perceptive, big-brother looks that only he can pull off. “You sure that’s all there is to it? Maybe he likes seeing you in it.”

You roll your eyes, shrugging to hide your own uncertainty. “I just want to give it back. It’s his jacket.”

Steve snorts, folding his arms. “Right. Well, if you change your mind, don’t overthink it. You never know—maybe he’d like seeing you show up wearing it.”

You give him a playful shove. “I think I’ll survive without making a grand entrance in his jacket, thanks.”

Steve laughs, shaking his head. “Suit yourself, Bee. Just know I’ll be watching out for you, especially if Bucky tries anything you dont want him to tonight.”

You grin, feeling a bit more at ease. “I’d expect nothing less from the captain himself.”

Steve stands, throwing a few bills on the table for the check. “So, I’ll pick you up at eight, yeah?” he says casually, grabbing his jacket. “Just gotta swing by Natasha’s place off-campus first and pick her up—if that’s cool with you.”

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Of course. I’ll be ready. And hey, don’t keep her waiting too long,” you tease, nudging him.

Steve’s cheeks flush, but he grins back. “Don’t worry. I’d never hear the end of it if I did.”

As you head for the door together, he pauses, giving you one last look, his expression softening. “You sure you’re all good for tonight? No nerves?”

You wave him off, rolling your eyes. “I’m fine, Stevie. It’s just a party. And I’ll have you and Nat there, so what’s there to worry about?”

He chuckles, pulling you into a quick hug. “Alright, alright. Just checking. See you at eight, Bee.”

You wave as he heads off, and you can’t help but feel the familiar flutters of excitement—and maybe a hint of nerves. Tonight’s party feels a little different, like there’s something more hanging in the air.

With a deep breath, you pick up Bucky’s jacket from the booth and walk out, wondering if you’ll actually find the nerve to wear it tonight after all. You tell yourself it’s just a jacket, but a part of you wonders if wearing it tonight would mean something more, even if it’s just between you and Bucky.

---

As you finish getting ready, you smooth down the little black dress that hugs you in all the right places, still debating the jacket. It’s hanging off the edge of your bed, and every time you look at it, your heart flutters. You know what wearing it could imply.

Just as you let out a sigh, your phone pings twice. The first message is from Steve: I’m five minutes away.

You quickly tap out a response, letting him know you’re ready. But then you notice the second message from Bucky. You hesitate, fingers hovering over the screen, heart pounding. When you finally open it, the message is short, but it’s enough to make you grin--

BB: You better be wearing my coat… see u soon, doll.

A smile tugs at your lips as you grab the jacket, pulling it on. Somehow, it feels like a shield, giving you a rush of confidence. Right on time, your phone lights up again with a message from Steve saying he’s outside.

You hurry downstairs, and Steve’s already out of the car, holding the door open for you like the gentleman he is. As you slide into the back seat, Natasha looks over her shoulder, letting out a low whistle.

“Wow, you look hot,” she says with a grin, nudging Steve. “Doesn’t she look hot?”

You laugh as Steve’s cheeks turn pink. “I… I mean, I can’t… I don’t… I can’t say that about her.”

Natasha rolls her eyes with a laugh, and Steve clears his throat, finally managing, “You look very pretty.”

“Thanks, Stevie,” you say with a smile, adjusting Bucky’s jacket around your shoulders.

He eyes it with a smirk. “So, I see you decided to wear the jacket, huh?”

You shrug, trying to sound casual. “Well, I’ve gotta give it back to him eventually. And it’s a little chilly, so… win-win.”

Steve gives you a knowing look through the rearview mirror. “Mhm. Sure.”

Natasha stifles a laugh, clearly amused as Steve starts the car, pulling away. You settle back into the seat, your heart racing a little faster with each passing minute as you all head toward the party.

The party is already in full swing when the three of you step inside, music thumping and lights casting a hazy glow over the packed room. Steve has his arm slung around Natasha’s waist, his face beaming as people shout greetings his way, clapping him on the back. The undefeated hockey team’s star has arrived, and he fits right in, like he was born for this spotlight.

You follow closely, but it doesn’t take long to feel a bit adrift, like you’re walking in his shadow. Steve keeps glancing back, making sure you’re close, but you hate that he feels the need to check on you. It’s supposed to be his night, his chance to relax and enjoy himself, not to worry about you.

You start to feel the weight of the jacket on your shoulders, like it’s putting a target on your back. Bucky’s name stitched across it draws eyes in every direction—curious, judgmental, some downright hostile. You catch a couple of girls whispering and shooting you cold, jealous stares. A pang of anxiety twists in your stomach as you force yourself to look away, hoping your face doesn’t betray the flush of self-consciousness rising in you.

Suddenly, it’s too much, and you reach forward, grabbing Steve’s arm. He turns, looking concerned, and you lean in, speaking loud enough to be heard over the music.

“I’m gonna go grab a drink and hit the bathroom,” you say, offering a quick smile to reassure him.

Natasha, noticing the exchange, leans closer. “Want me to come with you?”

You shake your head, forcing yourself to sound confident. “No, you two go have fun. I’ll find you in a bit.”

Steve searches your face, worry lingering in his eyes. “You sure?”

“Of course,” you insist, giving him a playful nudge. “I’m a big girl, Stevie. Go, enjoy yourself!"

He nods, squeezing your shoulder before turning back to Natasha, who’s already pulling him further into the crowd. You watch them disappear, his arm still draped protectively around her, and as they blend into the sea of people, you feel a hollowness settle in your chest.

Alone now, you wrap Bucky’s jacket tighter around yourself, but it’s no longer a comforting weight; instead, it feels heavy, like armor you don’t feel quite strong enough to wear. The flashes of familiar faces and snippets of conversation around you only deepen your sense of isolation. You feel small, like a forgotten piece of someone else’s story, swallowed by the loud music, the swirling lights, and the press of bodies.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #sebastian stan x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky barnes au #bucky banres #james barnes x you #james barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfic

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javierpena-inatacvest · 10 hours ago

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Chapter 3- Easier Said Than Done

Summary: Frankie's been by your side through some of the hardest moments in your life. Three years have gone by, and now there's no one you want to see less when you find yourself at your lowest.

Word Count: 4.1K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (reader has a name/nickname)

Warnings: Angst, yearning, mentions of death, sick parent, descriptions of a panic attack, hospitals, teenage Frankie's back at it again making it impossible for us to hate him!!

A/N: Hello, my name is Madeline and I am unable to stop writing gut wrenching angst and yearning. (Hi, Madeline). Maybe one of these days I'll stop sobbing like an idiot when I write, but I fear that day may not be coming any time soon

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

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You, Spring of 2006, Age 17

Most people say it’s the smell of hospitals they can’t stand. For you, it’s the noise. The constant chaos of voices, monitors, sirens, carts clattering as they roll across the never ending linoleum floor drives you insane. Even when it’s quiet, it’s still never silent. There’s always an ever present reminder looming in the distance to not get too comfortable. The inevitable fear that something could go wrong, and have you wishing that all you had to listen to was the ambiance of continual pandemonium.

That’s why it’s such a relief when you hear the quiet ping of your cell phone resting on the edge of your chair. It’s enough to drown out everything else for a little while.

Frankie :))))))

Hey where r u?

Game starts soon and I cant find u

Katie and Morgan said they havent seen u either

R u ok?

You

Yeah I’m ok.

Dad passed out and hit his head. Mom wasn’t home so I had to take him to the ER.

Called Coach K in the ambulance to tell her I won’t be there.

It’s times like these that it takes everything in you to remind yourself that missing big events to keep your dad alive is better than going to big events without him being here. But when you’re decked head to toe in your soccer uniform, sitting on the edge of your seat in a crowded emergency room instead of getting ready to start the last game of your senior year, it’s hard not to feel a little bitter about it.

You read back over Frankie’s texts as you wait for his response, doing the quick math in your brain before frantically typing back.

You

Wait, didn’t you have to work tonight? Are you at the field?

Frankie :))))))

Called off work weeks ago

U really think I would miss ur last game? Cmon Kenz

Guess its not a surprise anymore. Surprise! lol

You hope the nurse passing by doesn’t notice the way you’re grinning like an idiot at your phone, biting down on your bottom lip to keep your smile from growing so wide it’ll hurt your cheeks. You re-read the last three texts over and over, your face growing warmer each time. You’re not sure why you’d expect anything less. It still never fails to make you feel like your heart is seconds away from bursting at the seams.

Of course he came.

So lost in your train of thought, you hadn’t seen a fourth text pop up across your screen, only the fifth text of “???” that preceded it.

Frankie :))))))

R u at memorial or westwood hospital?

???

You

Memorial. Why?

Frankie :))))))

Be there in 15

You

Frankie you don’t have to do that

Frankie :))))))

2 L8! Already leaving! See u soon!

The tears welling in your eyes were most definitely ones of relief, joy even, that Frankie cared enough to attempt to make it to a soccer game you weren’t even at, let alone forgo a night’s worth of pay to drive himself to the hospital to see you.

Your momentary excitement comes to a sudden stop as onslaught of bodies rush into your room to examine your dad. You’re quick to realize you’ve once again been caught up in a stampede where you’re nothing but another person in the way. An invisible presences that means nothing to anyone in this room. It makes the once blissful wetness welling in the corners of your eyes start to sting with a vengeance.

But you’ve come very quickly to learn that crying doesn’t help anyone, especially when you’re not the one dying.

You try not to let it hurt when your mom doesn’t even acknowledge the fact you’re sporting the jersey of the team you were supposed to start playing with twenty minutes ago, like you had brought your dad to the hospital in your uniform because that and your cleats were the easiest thing to throw on before you called 911. It’s even harder to try not to scream at the fact she barely pays your presence any mind, not even so much as a ‘thank you’ for getting your dad to the hospital in one piece. What’s the most painful is that you’re positive that she, or anyone else, even notices you’re gone when you slip out the door.

You’re here so often that the hospital staff don’t mind that you pace up and down the rows of the waiting room. Sure, they’ll be sending you a bill for the hole you’re burning through their carpet eventually, but that’s not today’s problem.

Right now, part of the reason for your frantic pacing is to cool off some steam so you don’t say something you’ll regret about your dad’s cancer having the audacity to ruin the most important soccer game of your life to date.

You’re also here so often, the hospital staff know Frankie. So much so, that your favorite receptionist, Cassandra, has more than definitely broken several hospital rules to let Frankie stick around long past visiting hours when you’ve needed it most. That’s why all she has to do is give you that look to break you from your vicious cycle of pacing to let you know when he’s arrived through the sliding glass doors of the front entrance.

Most times, he at least makes it a few steps inside before you notice him. Tonight, he’s barely halfway through the door before you’re wrapping your arms around him in the tightest hug you have to muster. He pulls you in even tighter.

It’s then that the reality of it all starts to set in. Your best friend had to drive to meet you at the hospital because he’s the only one that remembers you have a soccer game tonight. Your dad is in a cyclical pattern of slowly dying that leaves you feeling like a terrible person for even wishing things were different. You’ve spent the past nine of your seventeen years of life only knowing a world that revolves around cancer. For nine years, you’ve never complained that this is the way your life has been. Tonight, you’ve decided that the weight of the world is un-fucking-fair.

Tonight, you’re not the one dying, but crying seems like the only reasonable thing left to do.

You should be embarrassed by how loud your sobs are, how quick the damn breaks once your body finally lets you give into the pain. These are the kind of tears that make your whole body shake, the ones that make your chest hurt because you can’t catch your breath, gasping for air like some poor, lifeless fish, begging to be thrown back to the sea.

Frankie’s seen you cry before, but not like this. You should care about how your tears are staining the fabric of his t-shirt, how he’s the only thing keeping you standing while your body feels like it’s about to give out underneath you. You hadn’t said a word to each other before you’d collapsed in his arms in a sobbing heap, but right now you don’t care. You can’t.

You’re sure words are exchanged at some point as he practically carries you out to his truck, at least giving you the decency to finish crying without unwanted eyes in the waiting room glued to you, but right now, you can’t remember.

You’re not sure how long it takes you to get back to the point of being able to breathe at a semi-normal pace, but something tells you that Frankie will hold you for as long as you need him too, crying or not.

He gently strokes your back, his thumb tracing over the fabric of your jersey as it draws small circles over and over, a sweet and simple dance of his fingers that steadies you just enough to keep from flying away.

“It’s okay, Kenz. It’s okay.” It’s melodic the way Frankie coos it in your ear, like he’s trying to hush a fussy baby fighting sleep. It’ll take time, persistence and patience, but lucky for you, he’s got all three in spades. “I promise you’re okay. I’m here.”

“This fucking sucks.” It’s not elegant or graceful, but it’s the truth, and right now, it’s all your brain can process.

“I know it is, Kenzie. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not fair. I don’t wanna spend the rest of my life worrying that this is the last day I see him. I just want life to be normal. I just wanna go play my stupid fucking soccer game. It’s not fucking fair.” You ball your fists against Frankie’s chest, pounding into him like he’s the one responsible for your hurt and anger. He’s not the one you need to take it out on, but he’s all you have. You hope he knows it’s not his fault he’s become your emotional punching bag as he takes blow after blow, despite how weak your swings are. You’ve got no strength left to fight.

“I know. It’s not fair. It’s not fair, MacKenzie.”

He takes it all until you have nothing left to give. You’ve lost a game no one ever has a chance of winning. Defeat is the unwanted trophy life rewards you with, but Frankie stands at the podium with you. He’ll take the hits if it helps ease the blow.

“Will you be okay if I’m gone for five minutes? Just five, I promise, and then I’ll be right back.” His question catches you off guard, breaking you from your agitated state, nodding your head just enough to give him the permission he needs to race back through the doors of the hospital as you climb into his passenger seat.

His truck gives you the kind of familiarity the hospital doesn’t. It’s hard not to find irony in the fact you feel safer in his piece of junk car where the wheels could give out beneath you at any moment than you do in a building that is built for saving people’s lives. Maybe it’s because his truck is filled with the memories of moments in life that make you feel like things are going to be okay.

With the way Frankie’s breathing as he jumps into the driver’s seat, it’s hard to think he’s not back in less than two minutes, rather than five. He doesn’t say a word to you as he cranks the ignition, only a little prayer under his breath that now’s not a time his engine has chosen to give out on him. He doesn’t let you ask any questions until you’re already on the road.

“Frankie, what’s- Frankie what are you doing?”

He’s got that crazed kind of look in his eyes he gets when he’s hellbent on making something happen. He always likes to say that you’re the stubborn one. It makes you wonder the last time he’s taken a good, hard look at himself in the mirror.

“I’m taking you to your game.”

He says it so matter of factly, like his response to nearly kidnapping you out of the Memorial Hospital parking lot shouldn’t warrant any questions.

“What?! Frankie! I can’t just-”

“The doctor in the room said he’s stable and he probably won’t be conscious for the next few hours anyways. Your mom said it’s fine. I’m not letting you miss out on this. You deserve to get to play, Kenz.”

You’re not sure at that moment if you want to kiss him or slap him across the back of the head. Maybe it’s a little bit of both.

“Frankie, I-”

“I’ll turn around and take you back if you want me to, but I don’t think you want me to turn around.”

God, maybe you do want to kiss him.

“I hate you, Francisco, I hope you know that.”

“I know. It’s okay, you play better when you’re angry, anyways.”

It’s always the little smirk in the corner of his mouth. The one he makes when he knows he’s right. It’s the same smirk he makes when he greets you after you’ve scored two goals to help your team win the last game of your high school career. The same one he gives you when he buys you ice cream to celebrate with two scoops of cookie dough instead of one, because you won’t stop laughing at his stupid joke about your big appetite for winning.

That night, you fall asleep on his couch, too tired to drive back to the hospital, too scared to sleep in your house alone. You’re not sure if you mean to doze off with your head resting against his thigh like some sort of makeshift pillow. It’s easiest just to blame it on the fact you’re too exhausted to get up. But as you close your eyes and drift to sleep, you’re almost sure that the only muscle Frankie dares to move is the one that pulls the line of his lips into that same smirk you’d rather die than live without.

You, Present

You’re shocked your initial response to seeing Frankie Morales for the first time in three years wasn’t immediately slamming your front door in his face and telling him to fuck off.

That’s what your body wanted you to do. For as badly as it did, your some part of your brain wouldn’t let you.

It’s probably the same, stupid part of your brain that won’t let you stop staring at him, either.

He looks good. Way better than you’d like him to. It doesn’t seem fair that he somehow manages to find a way to return home more handsome than when he left. It happens every damn time. You swear he does it on purpose. You don’t know how he could, but that’s what you tell yourself. It makes it easier to hate him.

“I didn’t know you were home.”

It’s probably the worst thing you could have said to break the awkward silence stewing between you, because you both know it’s a dirty lie. But at this point, you’re far past granting Frankie the privilege of being a part of the truth- you’ll give him your version of the truth that you want him to hear. You’re not letting him have the upper hand.

“Yeah. I uh- got home this morning.”

Good to know the best either of you could do was reduce your relationship down to nothing but lying. If that’s the game he wants to play, then so be it.

“Drive was good?”

“Yeah.” Lie. “You?”

“Fine.” Lie.

For as much as you know the lies hurt, it’s the curveball you hit him with next that you hope stings the worst.

“I didn’t think you were gonna come.”

Because that was the truth. The way his face drops tells you the guilt ridden punch you’ve socked him with hits exactly where you want it to. You want the truth to hurt more. You want it to hurt just as bad as the way his truth hurt you.

“Of course I was gonna come.”

It’s a poor attempt at a swing back. He showed up with a knife at your gun fight. He knows well enough you won’t show him any mercy.

“Wouldn’t have been the first time you hadn’t shown up for something important, Frankie.”

“Your dad’s fucking dying MacKenzie, what makes you think I wouldn’t be here?”

“Well, he’s been dying for the past three years so I’m glad you’re deciding to show up when it’s convenient for you.”

That one shuts him up real fucking fast.

His jaw ticks as he takes a deep breath, staring up at the sky like there’s something written in the clouds that will give him instructions on what to say next. There’s not much he could say at this point that would shock you, but Frankie never ceases to be full of surprises, whether you like it or not.

“I’m- fuck- I’m sorry, Kenz. I’m sorry.”

That shuts you up even quicker.

It shuts you up because you know he’s not lying. The truth is buried in the way his voice breaks at the start of your name, the way the “K” trembles off his tongue and shakes in the back of his throat.

Your heart is mangled in your chest, hearing him say the two words you’d never thought you’d get and realizing you can’t accept it.

“Sometimes sorry isn’t enough, Frankie.”

Neither of you are sure what to say. It’s tough to tell if the fight is over because Frankie’s stabbed you to death and you’ve unloaded every last bullet you had, or if you decided to put your weapons down and walk away before any casualties have occurred. While it’s hard to deny it’s the latter of the two options, at least the first one would have been the honorable way to go.

“Honey, is that Frankie at the door? Let him in, MacKenzie, don’t make him stand out there!”

If there’s one thing you can always count on your mom for, it's that she’ll never fail to have impeccable timing, for better or worse.

You don’t intend for the sigh you let out to be as loud as it is, but it certainly makes it clear to Frankie you aren’t happy about obliging to your mom’s request. You expect him to pass you like you don’t exist, entering your house to greet the two of the three family members who still care about him enough to not burn a hole through his chest every time they look at him, but he doesn’t. He waits for your okay, frozen on the porch until the subtle shrug of your shoulders signals you’ve given him the all clear to pass. He wants to know you’ll at least let him through unscathed for now.

You follow behind him as he enters your house, trying to ignore the fact you’re entranced by the dark brown curls that still tickle the nape of his neck as he walks, or how the width of his shoulders nearly stretch from one end of the door frame to the other. You’re starting to regret not letting him follow you in instead.

You nearly bump into him with how quick he is to freeze once he sees the state of your living room. In the past few weeks, it’s made a terrible transformation from the space you once knew to a makeshift hospital room. The hospice workers had crowded your house with beds, oxygen tanks, and a wheelchair your dad refuses to sit in, an endless puzzle of enough supplies to let your father die in his own home, rather than the cold, sterile wasteland of the nearest hospital.

You’d been able to ease yourself into your dad’s decline. You’d watched the months leading up to now as his body became weaker and sicker, reducing down to nothing but bones and deep, dark set eyes. You were a first hand witness to how cancer had greedily sucked every ounce of life he had left in him, taking and taking until he had nothing left to give.

Last time Frankie saw your dad he was in remission. He looked good, healthy, even. That was three years ago. Frankie would have never imagined barely being able to recognize the man that was the closest thing to a real father he’d ever get.

You want to scream at him that it’s his own damn fault he’s this shocked when he comes face to face with the shell of the man your dad used to be. But with the way you can practically see the guilt oozing out of Frankie with every step he takes towards the near lifeless body lying in the misplaced hospital bed in your living room, you can’t help but let your empathy get the best of you.

“Hi Frankie, how are you? It’s so good to see you, honey.”

Even though your mom knows you’re seconds away from wanting to dropkick Frankie off the face of the earth, there are few things she’ll ever let get in the way of her warm and welcoming demeanor.

Frankie’s still borderline speechless as your mom grabs the tray of cookies he’s been awkwardly toting before she embraces him, arms still glued to his sides like he’s too afraid to move. The way she’s got him in the hug gives him no choice but to stare at the unsettling image of your dad over her shoulder, barely strong enough to turn his head to see what all the fuss is about.

“H-hi, Mrs. Anderson. I’m okay. It’s good to see you, too.”

“Is that my Frank the Tank? C’mere, kiddo. I was hopin’ I’d get to see you.”

The past few weeks have made you shed enough tears to last a lifetime. Never once did you expect the thing that would make you cry the hardest out of everything you’d been through was hearing the long lost excitement in your dad’s voice upon Frankie’s return.

It’s childish, the way you storm upstairs and slam your bedroom door behind you without a word, heat seething through your veins at the way your dad was so quick to forgive, welcoming Frankie back into his home like a day hadn’t passed, like he had been there right alongside him every step of the way through his descent. Your blood boils at the fact your father can’t be bothered to remember that Frankie had been nowhere to be found for three fucking years. Not a text, not a call, not even a “Frankie says hi!” through his mother four doors down.

You can deal with the embarrassment of throwing a full blown temper tantrum later, but that’s more tolerable than spending another second in the same room as Frankie.

“Well,” your dad huffs, his face grimaced with sarcasm as he looks back and forth between your mom, Frankie, and the empty presence you’d left behind, “that went well.”

“Sorry about that, she’s um-”

“She’s fine. Just stubborn.” Your dad grumbles, cutting off your mom with the best attempt he can make to raise his arm from the bed and wave her off.

“No, I uh- it’s fine, I just- I should probably get going, don’t wanna take um- take up too much of your time.” Frankie’s heart sinks in the uncomfortable silence, quietly cursing himself for the mess he’s made.

“It’s what, 8 o’clock in the morning? You got a bingo game at the senior center you need to get to, young man?”

“No, I just-”

“Perfect, no is the only word I needed to hear.” Your dad weakly smiles, gently patting the edge of the bed for Frankie to join him.

Your heart winces hearing the heavy footsteps a floor below you from your bedroom, knowing the direction they’re heading is only further into your house and not back out the front door where you’d prefer him to be.

Thank goodness your dad has lost the ability to speak loud enough for you to hear the words that follow the thumps of Frankie’s feet.

“Frankie, I’ve lived a very happy life. There are few things about it I’d change. But you know just as well as me that my daughter is the one who so lovingly inherited my stubbornness. Lucky for me, God knows I’m stubborn enough not to die until you and her figure this out. Unlucky for the both of you, that my time for stubbornness is starting to run thin.”

@chaotic-iguana @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog @itsokbbygrl

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @jolapeno @ovaryacted

@amanitacowboy @mystickittytaco @anoverwhelmingdin @greenwitchfromthewoods

@witchofthedeepwoods @ericamarie093 @readingiskeepingmegoing @whimsiwitchy @whoaitspascal87

@vickie5446 @katw474 @ravenpoe67 @inthedarkestnight @brittmb115

@harryscherrysugar @wonderpillar @sunnytuliptime @pasc4lfuzz @yesjazzywazzylove-blog

@javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

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puck-luck · 10 hours ago

Note

May I please request for 1 of Clubs with Trevor Zegras, my sweet Andy? You already know I had to pick my sweet Trevor

Requested by Miss Brynn (@sweetestdesire) <3 xo hope you enjoy

Warnings: dumbification, choking mentioned, angry Trevor, unprotected p in v, MEAN Trevor, degredation, name-calling, mentions of praise ofc bc i love to mix the two <3 WC: 1,026

When Trevor is angry, he stays angry as long as he can. He’s wont to hold a grudge and to come home stewing, especially after a game where he lost or where he felt he didn’t perform well enough. Fortunately, after so much time spent together, and very compatible sexual habits, you know exactly how to react to his bad moods.

It was a surprise the first time it happened– Trevor had been close to coming, his hips pumping into yours at an unreal and unrelenting pace. His hand was squeezing your throat in the way you’d always loved and begged for. You were lightheaded, eyes rolling back just a bit, and Trevor was taken with the look on your face.

“Fuck,” he cursed. “You like it when I fuck you stupid, baby?”

And God, you do. You love it when Trevor gets rough and takes control, barking out orders and then doing it himself when your mind takes just a little too long to process what’s going on. After the first time he mentioned it, it became a regular trope in your escapades: Trevor doing everything he can to render your head empty, then gloating about it.

Which is how you got here today. Trevor got into a few verbal spats with a guy on the other team, which eventually culminated in a brawl in the third period that left Trevor’s feathers ruffled. He came home stewing, mumbling about this guy who had it personally out for him from the get-go and he doesn’t know why. You were in the crowd at the game, so you saw something similar and you didn’t know why either, until one of your more hockey-friendly friends texted you and said that Trevor’s enemy had played for the Ducks one upon a time. You didn’t know if they ever overlapped– and it turned out that their careers didn’t. So the anger and resentment didn’t make much sense to you, even at the end of the night.

What did make sense to you was that you were in for a long night. You shouldn’t have felt as excited as you did. You shouldn’t feel as excited as you do.

You’re in the midst of it now. Trevor has you bent over the kitchen counter– you couldn’t even make it to the bedroom. He’s fucking into you from behind and the skin of your behind is warm from the number of times that Trevor’s palm has made contact with it. His slaps are harsh and mean, even. He knows your boundaries, so he’s not pushing past them. His frustration has always been welcome in this way– while his cock is inside you, or when it’s about to be.

“Put your leg up,” Trevor commands.

You’re already on your tiptoes, trying to find leverage against the counter. Your mind is delaying like you’re listening to a different language that you don’t quite understand. After a minute, you lift your leg and try to hook it along the counter. The surface is slippery, so your leg falls and you have to try again.

Trevor helps, just a tad. His strong hand goes to the back of your thigh, pressing your leg into the hard edge of the marble. There’s no give and it’s digging into your skin, likely leaving a mark, but you don’t care. The new angle has your vision turning spotty from pleasure.

“Pathetic,” Trevor spits out, although the insult sounds much more like praise in your deluded mind. “Look at you. You can’t even do what I ask without help.”

You moan his name wantonly, acknowledging his words with the sound.

It’s too quick of a response for Trevor– he hasn’t rendered you dumb enough. He wants your mind to lag for even longer, so he delivers another smack to the globes of your ass before bringing his hand to the back of your head. He pushes your head until your cheek is flush against the cool tile, the sensations competing in your mind and confusing you further. All the while, Trevor is working his hips faster and harder. His cock plunges into your heat with lewd noises and brutal meetings of your g-spot and his tip.

“Shut up,” Trevor growls. “The only thing I want to hear out of you are screams, baby. I’m going to fuck every last thought out of this pretty little head. I’m going to make you come so hard that you can’t even fucking speak.”

He pushes your head once more before pulling back and securing his hold on your waist, able to keep you in place to better meet his thrusts. He bends at the waist enough for his lips to meet the curve of your shoulder. He kisses in a moment of sweetness before he mouths over your skin, scraping his teeth along and biting down as you try to push yourself up and lean into his touch. He’s going to leave a mark, and better yet, you want him to.

“Fucking cock-dumb,” he mutters after he unclenches his jaw. He lathers his tongue over the bite, then stands so that he can use his whole force to fuck into you. You’re close and he shows no signs of stopping.

You know that even when you come, he’ll keep going until you’re releasing over him again and again. It’s lucky– you’re able to clean the tile floor much faster than your bedsheets. In fact, just when you think you’re done, Trevor will probably fuck you senseless again, on your hands and knees on the kitchen floor. But that’s all still to come– for now, there’s a sting in your shoulder and burning heat across your ass. There are still some words floating around in your brain, but they slowly, slowly, slowly evaporate into atomic-sized particles. There was something here, once… before Trevor started fucking you. It’s hard to remember what. You’re all consumed by the boy behind you, with his biting words and lethal thrusts. It’s only once he’s said that you’re good, his good girl, that you understand that you’ve come underneath him for the first time and soon, you will again.

#puck-luck's 1k celebration #andy writes anything🍄#trevor zegras #tz11 #trevor zegras smut #trevor zegras blurb #trevor zegras fanfiction #nhl smut #nhl fanfiction #nhl blurb #hockey smut

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holylulusworld · 1 day ago

Text

BFG (10)

Summary: He’s new to town and just your type…

Pairing: Reacher x Plussized!Reader

Warnings/Tags: pregnancy, fluff, love confessions

Catch up here: BFG (9)

BFG masterlist

Legend: Y/M/N = Your mother's name Y/F/N = Your father's name

Frances left after she was sure Reacher came back to stay, and that he wouldn't leave again. You watched them say goodbye. Reacher nodded at Neagley and silently thanked her while she awkwardly looked at him.

You got that both, Neagley and Reacher are not fans of showing emotions or hugs. Still, you knew the moment you saw them interact for the first time that they shared a special kind of friendship.

“Have a safe trip home,” you didn’t shake her hand or hug her. Not because you didn’t want to, though. You figured that Neagley doesn’t like physical contact, and respected her personal space. “If you ever come back, you have a place to stay and free cereals.”

She smiled and nodded. “You better keep Mayor Reacher in line. He can be hard to handle but is a protective giant. He’ll be good to you and the baby.” She leaned closer and whispered in your ear. “If he gets antsy, give me a call. I’ll set him straight.”

You giggled and wished her well. Holding back the urge to hug her, you watched Neagley enter her car and drive away. “What did she say?” Reacher asked. “Y/N?”

“Oh, she wanted me to take good care of you, and your stomach,” you chuckled and patted his belly. “How can you stay so fit, and eat that much at the same time?”

“I’m a big guy,” he said and looked down at his body. “Ma always said I grew big and strong for a reason.” He lifted his big hands to look at them. “Maybe she was right.”

“I know she was right,” you said and took his hands to place them on your belly. “You grew big and strong enough to hold your baby one day.”

Reacher smiled at your words. He nodded, eyes glued to his hands on your belly. You didn’t show yet, but he already imagined you swollen with his child. The baby wasn’t planned, but he wouldn’t want to change a thing.

“So, did you think about names already?” Reacher looked up from the assembly instructions of the new cradle you bought. “Reacher?”

“Uh—no,” he said, surprised that you wanted him to think of a name. Reacher didn’t expect to have a say in this. “Do you already know what we’re having?”

“Not yet,” you said and stepped closer to Reacher. The giant sat on the ground; long legs stretched out to read the assembly instructions. “It’s too soon.”

You looked around the room you wanted to turn into a nursery. Reacher already cleaned out the former guestroom and painted the walls in neutral colors.

Reacher followed your eyes, grinning as you admired the teddy bear he painted on the wall. You had no clue he could draw. “I’m finished with the wardrobe and the diaper-changing table. I am trying to build the cradle now. It seems a few screws are missing.”

“How about a break? You worked all morning,” you softly said, and ran your hand over his shoulders. “I made lunch. Sally Ann and the new girl take care of the diner today. I have the day off and we could talk about baby names.”

“My ma’s name was Josephine,” he said, eyes saddening. “Maybe Joseph for a boy. My brother would be over the moon, or not. He wasn’t very emotional.”

You smiled and sat down next to him to pat his thigh. “I like both. Josephine Y/M/N for a girl, and Joseph Y/F/N for a boy. We can decide after finding out about the gender in a few weeks.”

“That’s good,” Reacher shoved the food you made into his mouth, groaning as he couldn’t get enough. “You’re a great cook too.”

“You hit the jackpot.” You winked at Reacher before putting more mashed potatoes and another steak on his plate. “Eat up, I got dessert too.”

Reacher licked his lips, already imagining something sweeter than dessert. He’d wait until he finished the nursery, of course. “What will we get for dessert?”

“I tried a new variation of my peach pie. You can have whipped cream too.” He kept on praising your food. You sighed all the while watching him eat. “If you don't want to eat peach pie again, I can make a cherry pie or apple pie.”

“I love your peach pie,” he murmured while eating more mashed potatoes. “And your pie tastes great too.”

“You’re naughty,” you giggled and threw your napkin at him. Reacher easily caught the napkin and wiped his mouth clean. “I like it.”

He laughed, deep and rich as you dreamily looked at the giant of a man. Who would’ve thought he’d stay and raise a child with you when he walked into your diner for the first time?

Tags in reblog.

#reacher #reacher x reader #jack reacher #plussized reader #reacher x plussized reader #BFG (10)#reacher x you #reacher x y/n

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sequinsmile-x · 1 day ago

Text

Instincts

Five times Emily doesn't yell at her mother-in-law, and one time she does.

Part 1/6

-x-

Hi besties,

Hope you are all doing as okay as possible <3

Usually, I do these 5+1 fics as a one shot but I'm doing it a little differently this time and this will be a multi chapter.

The final chapter, the one time Emily does yell, will be based on a prompt I received!

As always, let me know what you think!

-x-

Warnings: none for this chapter, pregnancy in later chapters

Words: 2.9k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

The first time it happens, she doesn’t even get to meet Caroline Hotchner.

It starts a few days before, when she can tell Aaron is nervous the moment he lets her into his apartment. She smiles curiously at her boyfriend as she steps past him, her lips catching his cheek as his hand skims her waist before he takes her bag from her, hooking it over his shoulder, “Waiting for me in the doorway kind of makes me having a key pointless.”

He chuckles, but it’s not the laugh she loves. It doesn’t come from his chest, doesn’t light up the space between them like it usually does, and it makes concern spark low in her gut. She furrows her brow as he closes the door, his focus on locking it behind them and setting the alarm.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says, smiling when he turns to look at her, “I was just excited to see you.”

Emily hums, narrowing her eyes at him as she crosses her arms over her chest, desperately trying to read him - to see what had changed since she’d left him in his office at work just a few hours ago. She’d only gone back to her place to get more clothes. Her apartment was just a place where she kept her things these days because home was wherever Aaron and Jack were.

She’d considered breaking her lease and just moving in with Aaron. All of their friends made fun of them for it, playful smiles on their faces when they teased her for the fact she still had an exit strategy. It would upset her if she knew Aaron thought that way too, but she knew he didn’t, his defence of her always fierce even in the face of joking from their friends. The truth was, something that they were keeping between the two of them for now, that they recently started to look at a place to buy together. She loved sitting in bed with Aaron, her back against his chest, his legs bracketing hers and his chin on her shoulder whilst they looked through listings together. Their favourites either bookmarked on her laptop or circled in the paper. She hated moving, it reminded her too much of her childhood, so she didn’t want to do it twice in quick succession. So for now, she’d continue to occasionally go to her place to pick up some things, content to live in this in-between stage before she finally had everything she’d ever wanted. A home made of brick and mortar. A home made of the man she loves and the boy she loves as her own.

It was a future she was looking forward to. One with him and Jack and whoever else might come along too - the idea of having more children with him enough to make her giddy.

“I only went home to get some clothes, honey,” she says, trying to pull a smile out of him, the smile that belonged to her. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes, his energy still nervous, and she sighs, “What’s going on?”

He clears his throat and puts her bag on his couch, “My mother called.”

She raises her eyebrows, her arms falling to her side, “Oh.”

His relationship with his mother was tense at best. They only spoke now and again, they exchanged phone calls on birthdays and holidays and occasionally sent each other gifts. Emily had never met her, but she’d overheard them talking on the phone, her name thrown around like confetti by her boyfriend, his smile always soft just at the mention of her.

“Yeah,” he says, walking towards her, his hands on her hips, “She’s in town.”

Emily nods, her eyebrows raising even further, already knowing where this was going, “Oh.”

“And she wants to meet you,” he says, squeezing her waist when she opens her mouth again, a third oh dying on her tongue, “Look, if you don’t want to meet her, I understand. I know my relationship with her is hard, and that you probably don’t have a lot of good feelings about her because of that-”

“Honey-” she says, finally breaking out of the slight stupor she’d fallen into. She smiles and cups his cheek, “You’re rambling. You don’t ramble,” she runs her thumb back and forth over his jaw, “It’s cute,” she smiles when he turns his head to kiss her palm, “Of course, I’ll meet her.”

The relief in his eyes is palpable, and she sees the tension in his shoulders loosen, “Really?”

She nods and leans forward to kiss him, her lips stamped against his, “Really,” she says, her nerves dampened a little by the relieved look on his face, the look in his eyes that makes him look like the little boy who never quite stopped looking for his mother’s approval, “She’ll be my mother-in-law one day,” she says, her arms snaking around his neck as he pulls her closer, “It would be awkward if the first time I met her is the wedding.”

He chuckles, leaning in to kiss her, putting all of his love into it. He tightens his grip on her hips so he doesn’t run to the bedroom to grab the ring he’d hidden in his sock drawer, not wanting to ruin his very meticulously planned proposal, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she says, “So, when are we going to meet her? Are you going to invite her here?”

“No,” he says, sounding more sure than he had since she’d walked through the door, and it makes her smile, “I learnt a long time ago a mutual ground is probably the right call. She likes Italian food. That new place opened up downtown but it’s almost impossible to get in.”

She shakes her head, carding her fingers through his hair, “Impossible if you’re not the daughter of a well-respected US Ambassador,” she says, smiling at him, “If the Prentiss name is good for one thing in DC, it’s for getting reservations.”

He sighs, shaking his head, knowing any favour she asked for from her mother never came for free, “Em, I know how difficult your mom can be, you don’t have to-”

“Hey, what good are my mommy issues if I can’t use them to help you with yours,” she says, leaning in to kiss him, “I’ll call my mom, she’ll get her assistant to get us a table and then she’ll passive-aggressively berate my life choices for 10 to 20 minutes. And you can pay me back in sexual favours.”

He chuckles and kisses her before leaning his forehead against hers, “Deal.”

___

She’s able to focus on his anxiety instead of her own.

If she didn’t know him so well, it would concern her. Make her think that he was worried about her meeting his mother and not the other way around. There was no room for her to even consider that he was embarrassed by her, that he was anything less than proud to call her his. All the nervousness he was feeling, the way he was squeezing her knee like it was a stress ball, was all about his mother. The women he’d come from but couldn’t be more different than.

If there was one thing Emily understood, it was that feeling.

She places her hand over his on her knee as he parks up and she smiles, “I’d ask if you’re okay, but I think if you squeeze my knee any tighter the joint might pop,” she says, and he lets go. She grabs his hand before he can take it away, linking their fingers together and cutting him off so he doesn’t apologise, “It’s okay, honey. It’s dinner. We’ll eat, we’ll make conversation with your mother. And then we can go home and have sex.”

He chuckles and tugs their joint hands towards him and kisses her knuckles, “Why does it feel like our roles have been reserved here?”

She smiles, “Think about it this way,” she says, leaning across the centre console to kiss his cheek, “Your mom lives five states away. We don’t have to see her that often.”

He laughs, “I’m sure I should be assuring you everything will be okay,” he shakes his head at himself, “You’re the one meeting her. I don’t want to paint a bad picture of her. She’s not a bad person. She had a bad set of circumstances. My father was…a bad person and a bad father. She’s not a bad person, but she…”

“Wasn’t a very good mother,” she finishes for him, and he sighs and nods as she flashes a half smile at him, “I’m familiar with the concept,” she unhooks her seatbelt so she can turn to face him, her smile soft as she runs her fingers through his hair, “We can just go home you know. We can turn around. Jack is with Jess tonight so we could just get in the tub. Hang out. You could repay me for everything I went through for our cancelled reservation.”

He shakes his head and kisses her knuckles again, “No. I want her to meet you. To meet the woman I love,” he smiles, “You’re going to be my wife one day. The mother of my kids,” his smile gets wider when she blushes, “You should meet my mother.”

She nods and kisses him, “In that case, we should get going. Otherwise, we’ll be late,” she turns to open her door but he stops her, and she turns to look at him, “You okay?”

“I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything, you know that.”

“You know how you made me promise to not step in if I think your mom goes too far?” He asks, and she nods, her lips pressed together as she sighs, already knowing where he is going, “I need you to make me the same promise.”

She clears her throat, “Is she going to make me wish I hadn’t made this promise?”

“Probably.”

She chuckles, “At least you’re honest,” she huffs out a breath, “Well, I’ve had over 40 years of experience dealing with my mother,” she winks at him, “I can handle one night with yours,” she’s grateful to get a smile out of him, “It will be okay, honey.”

He holds her hand the moment they are out of the car, his palm warm against hers as they link their fingers together. She’d always loved holding his hand, found a comfort in it that she knew he found too. In the moments when she let herself be romantic about it, she tells herself they were made for each other. That the reason her hand fits so well in his, the reason their fingers link together perfectly, is because they were made with each other in mind.

His phone rings and he pulls it from his pocket, frowning as he turns it to show her, the word Mom flashing across the screen. They come to a stop on the sidewalk, stepping out of the way of other people, and he answers.

“Mom, hi, are you at the restaurant already, we’re just…” he drifts off, and Emily can hear the voice of the woman at the end of the phone, but not what she’s saying, “Oh, I see,” he says, looking at Emily, his lips pressed together and his eyes drifting shut, “I thought you wanted to meet Emily,” he adds, and she clenches her jaw as she runs her thumb back and forth over the heel of his hand, “Well, yeah you can do that next time you’re in town. Or maybe we’ll come and see you.”

She can hear the disappointment in his voice, can see the irritation in his eyes, in the way he’s holding himself, and she gets as close as she can to him to provide the comfort he’d never ask for. She rests her head on his shoulder, and the extra height her heels give her means he can rest his cheek on top of her head as he finishes the call with his mom, exchanging goodbyes and see you soons in a way that’s so polite it makes her teeth ache. After he hangs up they stand in silence, still in their strange embrace with her head on his shoulder and both of her hands wrapped around one of his.

“She’s not coming?” She asks, even though she knows the answer, and she looks up at him. He shakes his head and clears his throat.

“No. She’s not.”

“Did she say why?”

“She bumped into an old friend. Went for dinner with her instead.”

She scoffs, “Instead of meeting up with her son?” She clenches her jaw, “Want me to call her back? I can give her a…” she drifts off when he raises his eyebrow at her, a hint of amusement in his smile, “Right. My promise. Does it count even if I haven’t met her yet?”

He chuckles wryly and kisses her forehead, “I’d say especially then,” he kisses her again, “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” she assures him, “It’s not your fault,” she squeezes his hand and hates the look in his eyes when they meet hers. He looks like a lost little boy, entirely too much like Jack, and it makes her want to steal his phone when he’s not looking and break her promise only minutes after she made it. She knows she won’t though, bound by a promise they’d now made each other about their mothers respectively, and she knew how annoyed and hurt she’d be if their roles were reversed, “Want to go home?”

He shakes his head, “No, Em. You went to a lot of effort to get this table-”

“Honey, I don’t care,” she says, cupping his cheek, “I can handle my mother if she says anything about us not using the reservation. I’m worried about you,” she strokes her thumb back and forth over his cheek, “If you want to go in we can, or we can grab a pizza on our way home and I’ll eat in my underwear to try and cheer you up.”

He laughs, the sound more real this time, more hers, and he smiles at her, “I do like the sound of the second option.”

“I know my audience,” she hums and leans forward, stamping her lips against his before she rests her forehead against his, “Home?”

He nods, blowing out a slow breath, “Home.”

She kisses him one more time before she steps back enough for them to walk to the car, both of her hands still wrapped around one of his, “I’m sorry your mom did this, Aaron.”

He sighs and unlocks the car, “Me too. I was looking forward to the two of you meeting.”

She slips in between him and the side of the car before he can open the door for her, “I know,” she says, running her fingers through his hair, “And I was looking forward to meeting her too. Despite…everything, she still gave the world you. And that’s something I want to thank her for,” she says, worry sparking in her chest again when he tightens his hold on her, something she can’t name flashing in his eyes, “Baby, what is it?”

Aaron shakes his head, “It’s nothing.”

“You can tell me,” she says, reaching out for his hand, “You know that.”

He blows out a breath, “I guess I just wanted her to meet you before we start the next stage of everything. Not because I feel like I need her approval or anything. But she’s my mom,” he smiles sadly, “It would nice if she cared enough to meet the woman I’ve told her I’m going to marry one day soon.”

It makes her angry again. The heat of it washing over her in a way she knows has her gripping his hand a little too tight, her knuckles briefly paper white before she lets go, swallowing the fury back down because it’s not what he needs from her.

Not today.

Despite everything, the mere mention of their still hypothetical wedding makes her smile and she squeezes his hand, “I understand that, but if she misses out on anything it’s on her. Not you. Okay?”

He nods, ��Okay.”

She leans forward and kisses him, “Now,” she says, kissing him again, “Pizza. Then home.”

“And you in your underwear,” he says, smiling as he steps away so he can open the car door for her, “I seem to remember that being part of the deal.”

“A deal is a deal,” she says, winking at him as he closes her car door once she’s climbed in. She’s alone in the car for a matter of seconds before he joins her, the key in the ignition as soon as his door is shut. “I just thought of something.”

He looks over and sees the vague look of horror on her face, the way she scrunches her nose up ever so slightly, “What, sweetheart?”

“One day our mothers are going to have to meet.”

#aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotchniss fanfic #emily prentiss fanfiction #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotchniss fan fic #aaron x emily #hotchniss

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dira333 · 1 day ago

Text

Oh, how do I explain...? - Aomine Daiki x Reader

best friend's brother and meet ugly - for @tsxkishimx for the Milestone Event Week 1

Your best friend picks up right away.

“Hey, what’s new with you?” You ask, hoping she won’t hear the light quiver in your voice.

“Nothing much.” She yawns. “Why are you calling, though? Did you rip your pants again and need an explanation on how to stitch them back up the fastest way?”

“No! And that happened over a year ago, why do you have to bring that up all the time?”

“Because.” You can hear the grin in her voice. “Now tell, what’s going on?”

“I might not be single anymore.”

“Shut up!” She cries out before gathering herself again. “Okay, I’m all ears. Who? When? How?”

“Well,” you cringe, glad she can’t see your face. “You know him.”

“Oh, is it Steve?”

“It’s not Steve.” From across the room, Daiki’s head shoots up. He’d been pretending not to listen in, but you can tell he’s doing anything but.

“Steve?” He mouths in your direction and you shake your head at him.

“Thank god,” your best friend comments with relief. “He’s kinda weird. But I know them?”

“Yeah,” you can’t help sounding a little miffed now. “There are guys who think I’m cute, you know!”

“Sure, sure. But Kuroko is taken and you think Kagami is overrated, so-”

“Why would you think-” You cut yourself off before you can say that name out loud, knowing Daiki will most likely wreak havoc at the thought of it. “I’ll tell you how we met and you’ll probably guess it from there.”

“Oh, an iconic entrance. You’re known for that.”

“Shut up!” You groan, almost more to Daiki than to her because he’s now taking a place on the Couch next to your feet, brows furrowed, still focused on the Steve topic.

You pull a threat from the inseam of your hoodie and play with it as you recollect that fated first meeting.

“Bathroom is down the hallway, the second door to the right.” Your friend says as she sends you your merry way.

“Okay,” you hop along, a little too energetic for this late hour but your friend has sweets at home whereas your mom is more fond of almonds and raisins for snacks.

Whistling, you open the bathroom door with flourish only to come face to face with a boy. A very much naked boy.

You squeak and he flinches back, tripping on a crumpled-up towel on the floor and falling backward.

“Close the door,” he yells at you and you do just that, though your brain’s too focused on panicking to do all the other necessary steps.

“And get out!” He groans from somewhere behind you.

“Oh, sure, yes.” You scramble for the door again, this time to step outside as well only to realize that there’s still unfinished business.

You knock softly. “I need to use the toilet though.”

“That’s the next door!” Comes his muffled reply.

“Well,” you clear your throat awkwardly. “We met when I accidentally walked in on him when he got out of the shower.”

Your friend laughs. “Oh my god, is that your theme now? I remember when you did that with Daiki, that was hilarious.”

“It was no fun at all,” Daiki grumbles, low enough you barely catch it but your friend has the ears of a bat, it seems.

“Who’s that?” She asks and your breath hitches in your throat.

“N-no one.”

“Oh, is your boyfriend with you? Let me say hi!”

You’re still hesitating when you see Daiki move forward as if to grab your phone so you react on instinct.

“N-no, you have to guess first.”

“Oh,” she sounds a little dejected. “How long have you been crushing on them?”

Daiki stops, a Cheshire cat grin growing on his face as you grow even more flustered.

“That’s a mean question,” you tell your friend but she doesn’t want to hear any of that.

“Nonsense. I know you better than he ever will. Tell me, how long have you been crushing on him?”

“Do you have a crush on anyone?” Your new best friend asks.

Two days you know each other now and you’ve already decided that you’ll be best friends forever, no matter where life takes you.

Thank god the teacher put you two next to each other in class.

“Yeah,” you duck your head between your shoulders. “There’s a guy in school that’s really cute.”

“Really? From our class?”

You shake your head. “No. He’s a third year. He’s going to go to Middle School next year.”

“Oh,” she sounds sympathetic and you like her even more.

At least she understands how much it will hurt to have the only cute guy in school leave after just one year.

“Who do you like?” You ask and she opens her little notebook to show you a cut out from a magazine.

“He’s really pretty,” you tell her, admiring her choice until you find a familiar face amongst all those cutouts.

“Who’s that?” You ask, pointing at it. How does she have a picture of your crush?

“Oh? That’s my big brother Daiki. He’s so annoying.”

“Since Primary School?” Your best friend's voice echoes through the room. Daiki’s face changes into something you can’t really pronounce but his hand curls around your ankle like a promise, a gesture so soft it’s almost surprising.

“But the only guy you liked back then was- OH MY GOD!”

You cringe but it’s too late.

“Am I on speaker? Please tell me I’m on speaker.”

“You’re on speaker,” Daiki adds before you can say anything.

“You’re such an ass!” She tells him. “I’ve been trying to set you guys up for years and you get together in the only week I’m not around?”

“Why do you think we managed? It was so much easier without your ugly mutt interfering.”

“You take that back-”

“Can we just be happy?” You cut in. “Please?”

“Hmph.” They both grunt in unison, too alike all of a sudden.

“You’re not mad?”

“Mad? No. I’m elated. I’m just pissed my brother didn’t let me know anything. At least you’re keeping me up to date. I want all the details when I’m back from my trip, okay?”

“Sure.”

“And Daiki, if you hurt her, I’m going to make sure Mom and Dad know!”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves her off, cutting the line at the same time. “As if I’d let that happen.”

#knb x reader #knb #knb fluff #my writing #kuroko no basket #aomine daiki #aomine fluff #aomine x reader #aomine daiki x reader

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manheeiim · 13 hours ago

Text

Nothing Lasts Forever - Phone Number Secured

ᥫ᭡ link to nothing lasts forever masterlist

It had been a few days since the bonfire night and I had seen JJ nowhere. Maybe I should've been glad after what he'd done with that gun that I didn't even know he had. I just couldn't bring myself to be, though. In fact, JJ hadn't left my mind since that night.

I sat at the small kitchen counter in the small home I shared with my mother and three younger siblings. I watched my mom open the fridge to grab ingredients for dinner before hearing her go, "Shit."

"What?" I asked, wondering what was wrong.

"We ran out of eggs." My mom tells me. "Mind going to the store to get some eggs?" She said more than asked.

"Kind of." I respond, though I get up, knowing I was going to do it anyway.

"That wasn't a question." My mom says.

"I know." I respond before heading to my bedroom, grabbing my wallet, and heading out the door after grabbing the keys to my mother's car. I get in her car and start on my way to the nearest corner store.

When I arrive, I get out of the car and head inside the store. I walk to the fridges and look through them, trying to find the cheapest one. As I'm doing so, I hear a voice saying my name. I looked over and saw, who guessed it, JJ.

"Lucia. What are you doing here?" He asked, walking over to me with a smile.

"Just getting some eggs." I say in a shy tone, the whole gun thing not even on my mind now.

"Looking for the cheapest one?" He asked, already knowing what I was doing.

"Yeah..." I admit a little embarrassed.

"It's these." He says, already knowing which one it was as he opens the fridge and grabs it out for me, handing it to me.

"Thank you." I thank him, giving him a small smile.

"Any day, m'lady." He jokingly says as he follows me to the cashier counter, standing close enough behind me that anyone else would think we were a couple.

I put the eggs on the counter and the cashier scans it before saying my total before I can even take out my wallet to pay for the eggs, JJ takes his wallet out and puts money on the counter.

I look back at him, a little taken aback but extremely thankful, even if it were only a few dollars. The cashier hands him back my change before telling us to have a good day.

"Thank you so much for that." I tell him as we head out of the store.

"It's no problem." He shrugs. "Which car's yours?" He asked and I pointed over at my mom's car making him nod as he walked with me there.

I stand outside the car, the eggs in my hold, as I look up at him.

"Still waiting on that number of yours, you know?" JJ said as he looked down at me with a smirk.

"Oh, right." I shyly say, feeling a little flustered, thinking he'd forgotten about that.

JJ pulls his phone out, "I don't got cell service right now, you know after the storm happened, but, I'll call you soon as I get it back." He tells me and I nod.

He then hands his phone out for me and I type my number in it. I watch as he types "Pretty NY Girl" as the contact name before saving it and shutting his phone off.

"Pretty NY Girl?" I smile at the name he put.

"What? That's what you are." JJ responds in a flirty manner.

"Whatever." I just giggle. "I'll see you around?" I then say.

"You know you will. I'll definitely be seeing you around." JJ said as he saw me going to open the car door but he interjected, opening it and holding it open for me. I get inside the car and put the carton of eggs in the passenger seat before looking at him through the window as he leans down.

"See you around, Lucia." He says.

"Bye, JJ." I smile before turning my car on, watching him walk off, feeling as giddy as a middle school girl who'd just made eye contact with her crush.

#manheeiim #outer banks #outerbanks #obx #obx fanfiction #obx fic #outer banks fanfiction #outerbanks fanfiction #jj maybank #jj maybank outer banks #jj maybank x reader #jj obx #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x you #jj maybank angst #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank fanfiction #angst #fluff

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blasphemous-lies-and-deceit · 2 days ago

Note

absurd terms of endearment

"Delivery time!" Gerry called out as he barged into the Archives. To his delight, he seemed to have caught Michael unawares, his head jerking up from his papers to look at him with wide shocked eyes. His surprise turned into happiness as a smile spread across his face, the exact expression that had made Gerry fall in love with him the first time he'd seen it lighting up the gloom of the Archives.

"Oh," he squeaked in delight. "I don't remember ordering out."

"That's because this is a surprise, you silly sausage," Gerry teased, setting the container of homemade soup on his desk and rounding it to give his boyfriend a hug. Michael spluttered a laugh, his cheeks turning adorably pink.

"Silly sausage," he snorted. "Like you're one to talk, sugarplum."

"Oh, that's how it is?" Gerry sat on the corner of Michael's desk, a fluttery happiness in his chest at the lovely back and forth. "Careful, my warm cinnamon churro, you might be starting something you can't finish."

"And what might that be, my sweet boba tea?" Michael asked, fluttering his eyelashes as he leant back in his seat. "What am I starting?" As if he didn't know already, as if he didn't have a glint of mischief in his eyes that Gerry loved so much.

"It seems like you're trying to out-nickname me, mister fairy floss." Gerry's words drew a snort out of Michael, covering his mouth with his hand to hold back his giggles. "But if you can't handle a few sweet epitaphs, I don't think you can keep up with me."

"Now listen here, you vanilla macaron-" Michael started, but stopped when Gerry burst out laughing. "See, you can't handle it either!"

"Fuck," Gerry gasped, trying to pull himself back together. It was too fun to stop. "You're pushing it, cream puff," he warned, sending Michael into another round of giggles. "Don't make me switch to another food group, you deep-fried mozzarella stick."

"Oh no you don't, you Sunday roast," Michael shot right back with a grin. "I'm sweet, you're savory."

"Yeah, you'd know that, wouldn't you, my iced lemon cake." Gerry added a lewd wink to his words, and Michael shot forward in his seat, a determined glint in his eye.

"You greasy morning fry-up, you don’t know what you've gotten into," he said, words loaded with warmth. "My succulent steak with potatoes, I could eat you for breakfast."

"Wish you would, my chocolate truffle," Gerry chuckled, leaning in as well until they were nearly within kissing distance. "All these foody endearments are making me hungry."

"Don't you worry about that, my tender soup dumpling, I'll make sure you're very well fed," Michael purred heavily, his lustful eyes heavy as they trailed over Gerry, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "Just you wait til I get you home. I'll load you right up with my sweet cre-"

"Enough!" A sharp yell cut them off, followed quickly by Gertrude appearing in the doorway of her office, looking incredibly cross. "Enough," she said again as Gerry toppled off the desk, laughing so hard his sides hurt, as Michael crumpled in his seat giggling just as hard. "No more. Pet names and euphemisms are no longer allowed in the Archives!"

"Oh, come on, Gee Gee-" Gerry started, only to be stopped by her accusing finger.

"Gerard Keay, I will banish you from these Archives, do not test me," she snapped, even as he continued to laugh. "And Michael, you can not eat that in here, no food is allowed near the documents."

"Oh, do we care about that now, gumdrop?" Michael shot back brightly, getting to his feet to help Gerry up from the floor. "Fine, I'll taking my break now. Since we're so hungry." He pulled Gerry close and pressed an obnoxious kiss to his cheek, earning another disgusted noise from Gertrude. Gerry grinned wickedly and wrapped his arms around Michael's middle, tugging him in tight.

"Careful, love, we don't want to offend Gertrude's delicate sensibilities," Gerry teased, earning an eyeroll and scoff from both Assistant and Archivist. It was over the top, but it was fun, and Gerry loved being able to joke around like that. Even if their lives were dark and horrible, at least he had some brightness to keep them going.

#the magnus archives #gerrymichael #tma fanfic #gerry keay #michael shelley #doorkeay #yes im posting this today and not Friday because everything is shit but there's still love and cheer #i love you all i hope this helps #rebelwriting

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4fifiandtheflowertots4 · 1 day ago

Text

The House of the Dutch

PART 2

You'd already decided you were going to like it here, but having your suspicions confirmed made you smile. Your bedroom walls had been painted, new furniture had been delivered (You're still waiting for a chair in the living room) and you found solace after a long day in the girls you were quickly becoming close with. Your favourite part of day was getting home from training and helping to make dinner. You alternated who decided and who ran the kitchen, Kerstin becoming your sou-chef as Dominique kept her ban against her and the kitchen.

Tonight, however, was different. Downstairs Domi and Viv and Jill (and Kerstin had probably managed to weasel her way into helping) were cooking and you were stuck in your room. After receiving an angry message from your university complaining that you hadn't attended a lecture in too long, you took the night to force yourself to stare at the screen and listen. You were hoping the strong smell of the paint might take the edge off a bit, sure that you'd read online that paint had enough chemicals in to ‘relax the muscles’.

You laugh to yourself at the thought before trying to refocus your attention on where the lousy professor was wittering on about something or other. It's only when your name is called that you really start to focus. Half the people had already left and you assumed it was the end of the lecture. “You're 4 pieces behind.” He says to you, and you frown. “No I'm not. I keep up with my work. If I had an assignment set I would have been notified and completed within the next couple of days. I haven't had a notification in weeks. I assumed you had been doing other stuff instead.”

“If you ever joined the lectures you would know.” He states, very matter-of-factly. “And this doesn't change the fact that you're 4 assignments behind.” You frown. You can't remember seeing a notification indicating that any work had been set and you've never missed an essay before. You try to think back and- Oh. That very annoying beep that interrupted you're Mario Kart the other week. “I'm sorry. They'll be done within the next two weeks, promise.”

“You know the rules. If you're more than 6 assignments behind I have the right to kick you off the course, Miss.” You rub your hands up and down your face.

“Of course. I'm sorry again.” Your professor leaves the call and you slump down into the chair. You definitely didn't need this now.

You were getting started by City, scoring goals most games and assisting on the others. You groan, leaning back so far you almost tumble off the chair. It's then that a knock echoes around the room and you twist your head to see who it is. You wait for them to come in, slowly realising they're waiting for permission. That rules out Kerstin. “Come in!” You call and Viv peaks her head around the door. “Hey. Dinners ready, if you're ready.” She says, then hurrying out: “If you're not, we can leave it in the oven to stay warm and we'll wait to eat it with you.”

You shake your head, smiling at the thoughtfulness from the girl. “No, it's alright. I'm finished on the call.” She nods and turns back out of the door. You shut down your laptop and follow her down the stairs, your blood still curdling as you try and consider a time you might have to do 2, 5000 word, essays and 2 projects Kerstin cheers when you appear, patting the chair next to her. Jill walks in with the dish of the day and sits at the head of the table, Domi opposite Kerstin and Viv opposite you.

As much as the food looks delicious (A traditional Dutch soup and garlic bread) you poke it about, your appetite gone since earlier.

Jill looks at you questioningly. “Do you not like it?” She tries to disguise the slight waver in her voice.

“Oh! It's lovely, it's really nice.. I just.. am not hungry.” You say, smiling at her and kicking her gently under the table so she knows you mean it. You were going to withhold your troubles as to not worry the others, but they already knew your academic ability (or lack of). “I have a bunch of work to do for my uni and not much time to do it. I'm really far behind and my professor is threatening to kick me off the course. I can't cope with it.”

“How much work?” Dominique asks from across the table.

“2 5000 word essays and 2 pieces of artwork - 1 of those has to be an animation.” You huff, and push the soup over to Kerstin who has been eying it up since you said you weren't hungry.

“I'm really sorry. I might have to sacrifice all our evenings for the next couple of weeks to get it finished. Starting now.” You get up from your seat, ignoring the sad smile from Viv to prevent the guilt from getting to you. You climb back up the stairs and return to your work area where your laptop waits. Staring at the screen, you try to decide what's best to do first. The animation will take ages. The essays are so boring. You have no inspiration to do the art. You slump at your desk again.

After about 30 minutes of deliberation, you start on the piece of art, the most overdue of them all. The assignment aim was to create a portrait in an animation form, recognisable to a popular animated show. Instantly, you were stumped. Time for some procrastination.

You pull out your phone and begin to scroll through Instagram, a couple of racist jokes, a grwm and a prank doing nothing but boring you further. Then there's one of those videos that everyone sees. “First 5 images on your phone define you as a person” nothing could be more boring than this. You open your camera roll. The first picture was one of your best friend, your mum and your dog, sent to you the other day with an ‘I miss u’ message at the bottom. That makes you smile. The next from last Friday, when you went for coffee with Jill at this new place you'd found. It was meant to just be your drink, to put on your story but behind she had snuck in and photo bombed your ideal Instagram shot. She had her tongue stuck out to the side, her eyes criss-crossed and eyebrows bent. Despite her funny face you still find yourself admiring her beauty. You curse yourself. The image after was not a photo, but a video holding a pristine picture of Kerstin dancing with Kiwi in her arms to the circle of life, from Lion King. Viv is laughing in the background, and Myle the dog is barking at the scene. You laugh along with the scene, Kerstin relishing being the centre of attention. She's smiling and its completely magnetic.The next is a photo of Viv wrapped in her city coat, slightly shivering after being taken off at the 60th minute mark. She's curled around you for warmth and you're laughing slightly. Her nose is red at the tip, her cheeks a similar colour. Even now, however many days in the future you feel the need to put your hands on her cheeks to warm her up. The fifth photo is one of Dominique wearing her specialised oven gloves, 'chef Domi' written across the front (apparently a birthday present from last year, you suppose from Kerstin) she has one of her hands pressed against Jill's front, pinning her against the fridge. The other is pointing best she can with the big mittens on her fingers. You remember the moment perfectly, Jill skipping in after a bit of media work she had to do, smelling the cookies you and Domi had just whisked up and instantly trying to pinch some. Having gotten past the first line of defence, you, she managed to get round Dominique when she had her back turn. Just as she'd spun her finger around the bowl, collecting some of the batter, Domi had turned and pushed her against the wall. Despite still being in fits of giggles from where you'd been tickled to the ground, you'd managed to nab a picture, luckily for Jill, just before she'd turned an embarrassingly obvious red. Clearly, you weren't the only one who found the whole ordeal hot.

Still smiling down at your phone, the inspiration seemed to circle the pen you used to draw on your iPad. You started by drawing a bright red 'animated' sofa, then beginning to create a quick sketch of a yellow version of yourself. You're sat right in the middle, then there's a dog by your feet, a perfect creation of your own little pup. To your left, your mama and each feature that makes her special, especially her butterfly tattoo. To your right, your best friend from home, holding a coffee and doing a peace sign with her free hand. Now you were stuck. You knew what you wanted to do but the positioning you were going to find very hard. Deciding who goes where while still maintaining symmetry was turning out to be a real challenge, especially when your stupid overthinking head is considering each placement a ranking of who was your favourite. A long with the fact that the positioning of each person decided how close you were with each of them, not wanting to confuse anybody for the extent of your relationship with any of them (even though you wished you had that extent with someone). For the however manyth time that day, you huffed. You grab your iPad and unplug it, the days activities taking its toll but you force yourself to continue the work. You crawl into your bed and stick your earphones in, blocking the world and it's issues out. You begin to draw again and the initial sketches of your four girls begin to paint themselves across the screen. Seeing them all in yellow makes you smile, allowing for some imperfections and missed features - especially for your first draft.

Your so far into your own world you don't hear your door open, or footsteps lead towards your bed. It'd only when a weight falls at your feet that you look up, seeing Viv sat at the foot of the bed. You quickly pull your earphone out.

"Hey, Love. How's the work going?" You blush at the affectionate pet name despite knowing the innocent intentions. "I brought food!" She waves the chocolate bar in front of her own face, making you smile.

"I've done the first draft of my drawing. It's all in 'The Simpsons' style." You grin at the thought of the 7 yellow people drawn onto your canvas. "I would say it's going well, but it shouldn't have taken 4 hours to draw a first draft."

"Can I see it?" Viv asks, and you pat the bit of mattress next to you. She scoots up and you bring up your latest drawing while ahe cracks open the chocolate. She stifles a laugh when she gets a look at it, but you can tell it's not in judgement. She points at Kerstin first and that makes you laugh with her. "She is never living this down-" she manages between her laughs and you're both keeling over again. You fall into Viv breathlessly, your head on her lap as she tried to control the laughter. Her hand, however, was already combing through your hair gently. Eventually, the giggles turn into breathy intakes of air, her heart rate returning to normal. "You know it's quite late, right?" She says from above you, her hand never faltering on its movement. She hands you 3 squares of chocolate and you take it, quickly realising how hungry you'd got and having a bite. Then you roll to look at her and instantly admire the way the peeking moon manages to catch her eyes.

"Yeah. I'm alright - just going to have to push a bit harder tomorrow." You try to give her your most reassuring smile.

"Don't work yourself too hard. In fact, I think it's time for bed for you." Viv pulls your iPad from your hands, laying it on the bedside table, moving the chocolate with it. "Do you want me to stay with you for a bit, while you fall asleep?"

Cursing the blush on your cheeks, you grin at her and nod. She manages to haul you off her lap and onto the pillow next to her legs. She (unfortunately for you) stays sitting up and picks up a book that she'd left on the end of your bed upon entrance. Her hand returns to your hair, though, and through each twist and pull you can sense each emotion the book it providing her and you wish it always this easy to read the girl. With that, you feel your eyelids dropping, and with one last look at Viv, fall fast asleep.

When you wake, it's because of another Myle vs Kiwi battle, taking place just outside your door. By the sounds of it, nobody is going to fix it so you pull back the covers and crawl shove your feet into the slippers waiting. At the lack of a second presence, you assume Viv managed to slip away when you fell asleep - now asleep in her own room and ignoring the raucus caused by her puppy. You open the door to your bedroom, picking up the first animal you can (Kiwi) and give a pat to Myle, throwing her toy downstairs for her. You smuggle your new friend back into the warmth you'd created, checking the time on your alarm and pulling out your iPad for the extra couple of hours you have at waking early. For sustenance, you break another square of chocolate off and begin to change a couple of things you'd done in your tired state last night - making sure your depiction of Kerstin was a little kinder.

With Kiwi sat on your lap, you crack on with the drawing, allowing the sun to rise and peek through the curtains left slightly ajar in your haste to shut them. You manage to get more time drawing than you expected, only being disturbed by a sleepy looking Kerstin in skippers and pajamas. "Hey have you seen- Kiwi!" She spots the cat and runs over and launches herself towards the cat - towards you - onto your lap. She begins to mutter to the cat something incoherent, stroking her under the chin.

Then Kerstin looks up at you and smiles sheepishly, a warm blush on her cheeks. "Sorry. I couldn't find her, normally she's scratching on my door for cuddles."

"Yeah, no, that's fine." You try to get over the unfortunate positioning of the long muscular limbs of the other Dutch girl. "Her and Myle were squabbling again. Kiwi was the first I got to. I'm sorry."

You realise Kerstin is paying no attention to you when she reaches up and pokes your cheek. She starts to grin. "This lighting is rather flattering of your features, dare I say?"

Raising your eyebrows at her, you catch her finger as it goes for another prod. "Are you suggesting I don't look flattering in other lights, Casparij?" She must have given herself whiplash with the extent of her head shaking.

"No! No, I mean, every light you look stunning - you always stun me atleast. Anyway. Work? You've been working. Can I see it? Art? Yes?" Her measly attempt at a change of conversation humours you, and you bring up your iPad, putting in the pin. When you brought out the device you expected her to shuffle up next to you, instead she chooses to make herself more comfortable on your lap so you have to adjust the screen so she can see it. Since Viv's last look, you'd drawn in a patchwork bunny, a football bouncing across the floor and a pair of oven gloves with the initials DJ laying on the arm of the sofa. You considered it finish, deciding to animate this drawing for your second art piece and use the characters already created in this made up world. You tell her your plan and she nods excitedly. "Can I be playing football, then tumble, and I end up on the floor in one of those 'paint me like one of your French girls' position? And then Viv can walk in with a canvas and start to paint me like the Mona Lisa and Dominique can stick her head around the door with an.." she pauses for breath. "APPLE PIE! Yes, an apple pie in her hands then Jill walks in with lipstick on her cheek, because you know, have you seen all the rumours about a new secret girlfriend?" You ignore the pang in your chest as she continues to ramble. "And she picks up my discarded football and begins to do keepy-uppies in the background all the while you, your mum and your best friend are just sat completely still with a butterfly floating around your head because I love butterflies. They remind me of you. They're beautiful like you, I think that's where I see the resemblance anyway. And your very graceful. I love watching you play football, you dance across the pitch. Should have been a ballerina." A big inhale for breath. "Actually no I take it back because then you never would have met me or maybe you would have done because it's fate." She sings out the last word and shakes about a bit despite her compromising position on your lap.

"Do you believe in fate, Kerstin?" You ask, tilting your head to the side to avoid the sun shining into your eyes. "And- how do you have so much energy for this time in the morning?"

"I always have energy if it means conversing with you, Darling. And fate? I think we'll never know."

You'd thought you'd found some peace, when the room goes quiet - par Kiwi purring ever so often. However it's clear Kerstin gets bored easily, rolling over and reaching up to get her hands on your thighs. You look down at her to ask her what she's doing, but before the words can leave your mouth she tugs and you go down into the depths of duvet and mattress.

Eventually, you resurface, and she's waiting for you having shuffling herself up the bed (still laying down) and stealing your previous position. "There. Now I can see your eyes properly." She looks really pleased with herself and you roll your eyes, biting down a sarcastic response when she sends you a soft smile. "Any plans for today?" Kerstin asks you. "Other than working?" She cuts in before you can speak, seeing the way you open your mouth.

"Then no. I hope to sit in bed and rot while trying to find some inspiration for a however many word essay that won't write itself." You huff again. "What about you guys?"

"Viv's going for a physio appointment about her knee, Dominique's going to visit somebody or other. Jill's meant to be babysitting her niece and I am going out with Mary." She ticks them all off her fingers before looking back at you.

"So it's just me rotting today then?" She nods and you both lay there staring at one another. Then a hand reaches up and tucks a stray hair behind your ear. "You really are beautiful in this light." The hand from by the side of your head comes to your hip and pulls you towards her just a little bit. "Can I have a hug?" She's not smiling and joking anymore, her face is straight and her shoulders look sagged. You make the decision to wiggle forward - half for her, half to satisfy the urge to cuddle close you've had since she played you both down. When you start to move, her hand on your hip begins to tug you along too until your head is tucked neatly under her chin. The arm on your midsection tightens and you wrap yours around her lower back. You stay like this for just enough time for the smell of yesterday's perfume to drift around your head. Then she pulls back and you start to wonder what an earth is going on inside her head.

"..are you okay?" You ask her and she nods. Her tongue peaks out and subtly licks her lips and her eyes dash around your face, eyes, nose, blushed cheeks, freckles, forehead and mouth. They rest on your mouth. They're bright with want, sparkling as they continue to stare. Then her face falls and she pulls away entirely. Her whole body just falls from yours like it was a cliff, not a whole queen sized bed but instead of falling she's stood, still staring at you.

"I'm really sorry. I was..was going to, you know, kiss you or something like that. But.." she goes quiet and you have to just wait as she chews over her next words. "Jill. She really likes you. Told me the other day - actually she told all of us and for some reason I took that as 'hey let's make a move' and that makes me a shit person so.. I'm going to leave now. And I would like you not to tell Jill. Or anyone. Because I think Domi likes you too. Not that she'd ever say. Infact.. so does Viv. She chooses what to cook based on what your fancying and even if you say you don't tell her, you wake up every morning and as your making yourself breakfast you say what your fancying for tea under your breath and I can tell it's only meant for yourself to hear but Viv's always up at the same time and she can hear it too." Yet again, she's rambling and you can't do anything but watch as she exposes her friends secrets.

By the time you have a chance to get a word in, she's gone, Kiwi trailing behind.

There isn't much you can do now. Other than sit. Ponder. Consider. Mostly, however, you're wondering how an earth you managed to make 4 very pretty Dutch women like you. You also think about your next move, surely there's a decision you have to make.

You shake that thought of your head, that action instantly becoming easier when theres a muffled scream from room next door, something that sounded like a pillow being thrown against the wall, then a thrump as it hit the floor.

Then your door gets nudged open and a blonde woman makes an appearance, a little girl at her feet. "Hey, my little love. How's the work?" Jill says while kicking the door closed with her foot. "This is my niece, Clara, by the way." The little girl sends you a huge gummy grin, toddling over and giving you a glass of water. "I bought breakfast when I went to collect the little monster, so I thought I'd come give it to you." Jill hands you a chocolate croissant, your favourite, and then picks up the little girl currently very enthralled by the ratty little rabbit sat on your bedside table. "Is Kerstin alright?" She asks, referencing the noise from next door.

Your face flushes while you think of how to put it kindly. You can't think of anything. "I'm not sure. Probably lost a game on her phone or something." Jill gives you a funny look at your stutter but doesn't ask anything further. The girl in her arm starts wiggling so she can't consider for much longer. "Okay. Anyway. If you hear me speaking in English then it's to Clara, my brother and his wife are trying to bring her up bilingual so I thought I'd give them a hand."

"Lucky." You pout and Jill laughs.

"How's your English coming along?"

You put on your best English accent. "Excellent." Then add in Dutch. "Absolutely terrible. I need help."

The little girl had seemingly gotten board of your little bunny, and you take a mental not to apologise to it later for being disregarded. Jill notices and begins to stand up from the foot of your bed. She presses a kiss to your orehead, as she does most of the time and bids you goodbye, calling back warning you not to work too hard. You don't think you'll get too much work done at all. Especially after the strange start of the day.

A/n: Pretty long. Pretty much all waffle. Please tell me what you think of it so I can improve and any plot ideas to <33

#jill roord #dominique jansen #kerstin casparij #vivianne miedema #woso imagines #manchester city #manchester united women

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moonbaby26 · 2 days ago

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@tuquidflamingo I feel like Tsuru is who I would literally be if I was really in One Piece. I’m in my 30’s, so by Tumblr standards I am “old” already 😅. No wrinkles yet, but me and her look similar in face and build. Just add a grey wig and a bit of a scowl, I could totally pull off a Tsuru cosplay! One day I’d love to. I have never cosplayed before because I have no one to go with. But I’m hoping at some point I’ll say eff it and do all these fun things anyway. At least the older I get, the more accurate the likeness will become! 🤣

I feel a little guilty sometimes in that new One Piece fans may see the Doffy/Tsuru stuff I post, then be disappointed when they get to her in canon and find it’s mostly crumbs of what backstory we get of the two of them. But I really feel the connection of Doffy/Tsuru and Rosi/Sengoku is meant to be mirrored. As well as it’s no coincidence that the very first time we are introduced to her, she’s calling Doflamingo out with zero fear (and much to his delight) at the warlord meeting. The TRAVESTY is that this interaction is cut from the anime. I’m hoping it gets put back in the remake.

But then when we get to Dressrosa to finally learn the backstory of Doflamingo, she’s in it. She has chased this bastard from day one. Her boat just keeps showing up for him. And he’s afraid of her! Tsuru’s home sea is also the North Blue. And they have the same blood type. Irrelevant to the story right now, but just more little choices that I think put them on the same wavelength.

The thing that cements it for me though is her coming immediately to Dressrosa when things started going sideways for him. I like to think Fujitora only beat her and Sengoku there because Fujitora was closer somehow. But for Oda to first introduce Tsuru in panels where she is talking to Doflamingo, then show her again as a constant presence during Doffy’s rise as a young pirate, and then bookend it with her being the one to sit with him and talk freely together after he’s fallen…

That’s intentional to me. Their stories are tied together from beginning to end. No other reason narratively for it to always be her when we have tons of other notable, named marines.

I hope, hope, hope that we get to see them together again though. I would faint and die if in some final war situation Doflamingo did something chivalrous to protect her on the battlefield, or was just clearly happy to see her again. I really think he has a soft spot for her.

You battle/chase someone long enough, you can’t help but get to know one another well. Sorry for typing so much, clearly I am passionate about them! 🥰

The crane and the flamingo. One Piece card game art. My favorite marine mom and her brat problem child. 💕

(top right is from @bisaiiiii on X)

#dofutsuru #tsuru #tsuru doflamingo #doflamingo tsuru #one piece tsuru #tsuru one piece #op doflamingo #one piece doflamingo #doflamingo one piece #doflamingo #donquixote doflamingo #doflamingo op #doffy one piece #op doffy #doffy #one piece #one piece fandom

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shinayashipper · 6 months ago

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i need to find other jobs... But I can't let go of this one yet... maybe more freelance work... but idk... I dont think I have the time hhh they keep saying I should make more Money QwQ or make my own business. just... more Money. idontknoww QwQ im running out of time. if i reached 30 it's all over for me and Everyone in my extended families and the neighbors will Talk abt Me, The Failure Daughter who can't have enough money and marry a decent man

#red rambles #i know its not true and i have friends irl and online who are women and over 30 and Thriving #but they always make me feel like im running out of time #im too old now and too late to start anything #im stuck in shitty retail job and cannot make more money to provide my family #they brought me to college and invested all that money for my education #but they still said I 'grew up Wrong'#immm sooooooooo hhhhhnghhhhhhhh #at least i can still pay the bills...#im Scared i will suddenly off to marry the next man im intriduced to just because of the Pressure #its okay... lets not think abt it...#I will make plans to resign tho but it's because I'm Miserable in this job haha #getting called names at home is Enough already

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starlooove · 2 months ago

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Making my vs siblings? More likely than u think

#my mv is a nomad and my fv is a streetkid #as of now since I’m playing fv rn I’m gonna go from hee pov #the backstory would change a bit if it was mv yknow the vibes #basically twins separated at birth cliche i know #fv stayed in nc mv went with other parent out of city #parental death and info drop (on the death bed! the parents suck :(#makes fv go out. she tells everyone she’s going to Atlanta bc there’s stigma behind nomads #or Atlanta is the start of the search whatever #actually finds mv relatively quickl #Bc - this is where timeline and events would shift if it was from m vs perspective - the bakkers just broke up!#parent either died or joined snake nation idc. prolly died. maybe died in the process. whatever.#anyways v is radioing out to anybody bc his car broke down and he already pissed of the sheriff. he got enough juice to GET to the tower but #now hes stranded in this white ass town help.#Uhm how does v know this is her brother??? uhm. whatever. maybe she doesn’t and just decides to help who cares. maybe she thinks he can help #maybe he name drops bakkers as a last ditch effort or smth #anyways she goes to help they see eachother and it’s like that Tinkerbell scene #the two years in Atlanta are actually two years fucking around and causing trouble with her twin #but mv longs to be apart of a bigger family again and fv is dropping hints about going home :(#mv gets picked up by the aldecados (yeah! yes!) and fv goes back to nc. they promise to keep in touch.#like genuinely teary ass reunion. I usually have all my vs do suicide endings but they’d prolly both pick nomad life w/ the other in this au #unless….smth….unfortunate. were to happen to their dear sibling :(#Uhm anyways yeah.#also they’re both gay and mv is transmasc whilst fv is nb #the v is. I don’t have names for them yet so I’ll say coincidence but I don’t want it to be. they both have v names but going by v was a #coincidence? OH lmao their parents called them v shorthand they thought it was cute growing up when they met eachother they realized they #prolly didn’t care to remember which twin they had (yeah they’re that type of bad)#Uhm. last thing the way the playthroughs are going they have distinct personalities and merc styles I’ll make false promises to get into #but all that really matters is post heist fv drops off the face of the earth and avoids mv bc she can’t give him a family just to rip it #away like this but for mv the second he wakes up at Vic’s he calls her sobbing and wailing into the phone #when it’s mv he goes ‘why can’t u be nicer :/‘ when it’s fv she punches Johnny back ok that’s all

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tonycries · 12 days ago

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Corpse Groom - G.S.

Synopsis. Till déath do you part…or does it when a déathly error leads your newly-wedded husband to be from beyond the gráve?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, CÓRPSE BRIDE!AU, arranged marriages, period-typical mísogyny, Naoya is awful, accidental marriage, ángst, major character(s) déath, HAPPY ENDING, talks of déath, kníves, poíson, reíncarnation, Gojo YEARNS, he loves you sm I cried, hándjobs, fíngering, spítting, cúmplay, BRÉEDING, creampíes, mentions of having kids, pússydrúnk Gojo, overstím, oraI (fem rec.), pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 12.7k (ohoho)

A/N. K!nktober isn’t over until I had to make a rewrite of my favorite Halloween movie mhm <3

“Mother, I refuse-”

“Nonsense, child!”

That sharp snap! of your mother’s feathered fan is loud enough that the whole carriage rattles on its hinges, creaking you noisily to what seemed like your very doom.

You gulp when she’s tilting her head down as far as her best, high-collared gown would allow, eyes narrowing. “The Zenin’s are the only nobles left in this wretched town, and I will not have my daughter marrying some commoner.”

The unsteady cobblestone pathway jostles you in your cushioned seat ever-so-slightly, a pertinent little reminder of that fact.

In the deafening silence, your father pipes up - ever-the-pacifist, “Now now, why don’t we all calm down, especially before such a glorious wedding.” But his words wither out into nothing but a whisper in the simmering tension. “Like your mother said, dear, the Zenin’s are a good family, with a uh-” Coughing nervously, “-good son. We just want you to be taken care of.”

As if that was the only thing.

But there was no use arguing.

Facing back to the gray window with a sigh, and you can only whisper. “I’d rather die than marry Naoya Zenin.”

---

“With this hand-”

“Louder.”

“With this-”

“More passionate.”

“With this damn hand-”

“Not a threat.” The older woman in front of you wrings her satin gloves, turning towards your fuming parents with a tone that matches their expression. “Honestly, I know that you new money people find it hard to adjust but this is our special tradition! My poor baby Naoya is going to be heartbroken tomorrow.”

Dutchess Zenin had a cruel sort of beauty to her, high cheekbones, and cutting eyes that picked apart every fray at your dress - the spitting image of her son.

And her “poor baby Naoya” was currently finding it impossible to hide his smirk. Swiping away invisible dust from the velvety-clad shoulder of his overpriced suit, he sets down his wine bottle from the vows.

“Don’t be too harsh, mother.” Naoya’s smooth voice comes out in a dangerous purr, and you jolt when one of his strong arms slither around your waist. Possessive. “After all, it’s this one’s face that’s what’s important.”

God, if it weren’t for your parents’ pointed looks you would have shoved this overly-perfumed bastard away from you and bolted through those high doors faster than you could say “I do.”

The Naoya Estate was as beautiful as its occupants could never be, brutal, looming architecture intended to make you feel smaller than you were. All those high cemented pillars, plush furniture, and gleaming chandeliers spoke of exactly what your parents wanted - power.

It wasn’t the sort of home you’d like to call your own, but then again, you didn’t have any choice in the matter.

“My deepest apologies on behalf of my daughter, madam-” your mother’s gritting out the words, painted lips curling ever-so-slightly towards the end with a bitter taste. “-or should I say, co-mother-in-law? Ah, come now, we might as well be family already, right?”

“Sure.” Dutchess Naoya turns, arching a needle brow. “Might as well, thanks to your family assets- if your daughter doesn’t make a joke of the vows, that is.”

The wisened officiary standing at the altar nods solemnly towards you. “Do you even want to get married tomorrow, young lady?” No, you want to answer, but bite back. “Zenin house traditions dictate that the mark of a good wife is one to follow the vows to its every syllable.”

You wince - and your features sting where they’d been perfectly stretched into a plastic smile. Your next words come out small, strangled in a way that makes your future husband smile. “I apologize, I know how important these vows are, and I’ll- I’ll do better next time.”

“Good.”

With a click of Dutchess Zenin’s fingers, a hushed, swirling piano melody fills the hall once more.

Your wedding ballad.

Something that Naoya had prattled on and on about being an esteemed tradition in the Zenin household, a tender tune to accompany their sacred vows. Modeled after the long-lost royalty of this kingdom, and this was the closest you’d get to a taste of it.

It was your one initiation into power - saying those sweet, special promises - and the one thing you found impossible to get right.

“-for I will be your wine.”

Shit.

You didn’t even realize that Naoya had polished off his own vows, before you jolt at the hefty weight of wine being poured into your cup.

And you could practically feel the burning stare of every eye in the room. Watching. Waiting.

You’re fighting against your intricate corset to gulp in a deep inhale of the stale, thickening air. Clearing your throat ever-so-slightly, you raise the hand holding onto his wedding ring. “With this hand, I will lift your sorrows. Y-your cup will never empty-” Fingers tightening around the silver goblet in your other, your breath hitches at the bile rising to your throat already. “-for I will be your- your uh- wine.”

In the corner of your vision, you could spot Naoya’s smug smirk already. You could hear his tiny “As if you have any other choice.”

You knew what he was thinking.

That whisper is enough to make your jaw grind, your hand clench in a way you’d been taught by your mother not to - in a way that she’d unfortunately forgotten to tell you was for the cup’s sake, rather than your own.

Because it only takes one harsh squeeze before it just bursts.

Red, red wine trickling all down your wrist, splattering onto the gauzy curve of your gown - but more importantly, onto Naoya’s crisp suit.

It bleeds through the velvet in thick smears, seeping into the fabric as if catching on fire. Only staining further and further with each second he’s flailing frantically to wipe it off.

“Shit- My apologies- oh, shit-” you’re gasping, but there’s no one paying enough attention to tell you off for your unlady-like profanity right now. Body moving before your mind, you snatch some of the officiary’s papers from him, “Wait, it will only get worse- let me-”

Only to forget what was in your hands.

Honestly, if this was any other time you would have laughed watching the rest of the wine nestled safely in your cup come gushing down onto whatever was left of his unmarred suit - every single inch.

It’s chaos.

Then it’s silence.

Every single breathing being in the room can only watch as the last few crimson droplets drip! drip! drip! onto Naoya Zenin’s lapels.

Wordlessly, you look to the aghast officiary, your stony-faced parents, and finally, your gaping fiancé. You’re the first to speak - to hold back your chuckles, more like. “I- I cannot apologize enough…”

“You- you witch! This was on purpose, wasn’t it? Do you know how much this custom suit cost? How it was worn by the late highness himself.” Naoya’s screeching, voice shrill. Pointing a finger accusingly at you, it would be menacing if it wasn’t for the big, fat droplets of red dripping from his angry features. More of a drenched cat than the gentleman he pretends to be. “Remember that I’m doing you a favor by marrying you-”

You cross your arms, struggling to keep composure. “I shall reimburse-”

“-and acting all haughty as if you were from the royal family itself.” he’s frantic, mouth running a mile a minute. Tugging at his wet strands, “And my hair, oh my beautiful beautiful hair-”

“I shall reimburse the emotional damages, too!”

Dutchess Zenin tackles her son into a soothing embrace you find almost comical, granting you with a venomous glare that you were sure if looks could kill, she’d be lowering you into your grave and waltzing over it with Naoya already.

Simpering, “It’s quite alright my poor boy, this wedding cannot take place! We can find another-”

“No no no- no, I still want to marry her-” His greedy eyes sweep your trembling figure up and down, “Doesn’t matter if she’s an unfit wife, I’ll fix her up-” You’re quirking a brow, “Swear I’ll marry her and fix her up into-”

THUD!

You’re throwing the cup remaining in your hand as hard as you can, hitting Naoya right in the bullseye of his chest. And as soon as the air leaves his lungs, they leave yours too - in a stubborn, infuriated hiss, “Well, I’d never marry a spoiled, pompous brat like you.”

And with a flick of the stray beads of wine on your fingers at his face for good measure, you lift your heavy skirts as scandalously far as they’d travel to dart out of the door.

Out of the winding corridors.

Out of the Zenin Estate.

Ignoring every call of your name, every arm reaching out for you - urgently following your feet wherever they took you. Honestly, you’re so busy gasping in deep lungfuls of the cool, fall air embracing you that you’re half-surprised you only crash into a few people on the streets.

Again. And again. And again and again, yet never stopping. Afraid of being followed by Naoya. Or even worse - your parents.

You barely even slow down until your tailored shoes crunch against gray snow, eyes taking in lines upon lines of towering trees in front of you. Tall, towering. Weaving their branches with the sky - ominous, almost, against the steadily darkening night creeping its way in.

The forest, you’re realizing with a gasp. Have you really come this far?

Taking a glimpse over your shoulder at the twinkling lights of the town in the distance, you think of the vows that were waiting for you, and the town rumors you’d definitely sparked. Well, a walk to cool off wouldn’t hurt…

And despite wanting to relax, your thoughts only churn with each step. Replaying the scenes from earlier over and over and-

“And your cup will always- fuck- they probably think I’m such a fool.” you’re spitting, kicking at a pile of snow. “Fuck Naoya and his vows, fuck that stupid wine, should’ve shoved it up his-”

Just then, a sudden gust of fall air puffs up against your ear, sending goosebumps careening down every bit of your exposed skin. You shudder sharply, hands shovelling for warmth inside your gown’s pockets, “Ugh, today’s such a horrible-” Only to cut yourself off with a gasp- “This is…”

You feel for that metallic cold again, hastily pulling out that solid, silvery ring. Meant for Naoya Zenin.

Admittedly gorgeous, an intricate band with a delicate sapphire embedded in its middle. Your mother had spent months tracking down the best jeweler in the country to forge a ring that even the Zenin’s would be impressed with.

Fit for a king.

You scoff, “An unfit wife, my ass. It’s not even that difficult.”

Still feeling highly insulted, and only slightly embarrassed for it, you clear your throat. Speaking clearly into the stiff air, “With this hand, I will lift your sorrows.” Determinedly you stride your way into the middle of a slight clearing, “Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine.”

Grasping a stray branch, you mock lighting the altar candles. “With this candle, I will light your way in the darkness.”

Before setting down on one knee - customary for the groom, yet feeling so right when you gaze down at a tree root sticking up from the blanket of snow. Poised like the prettiest of fingers at the foot of a towering oak.

“With this ring,” You’re sliding it down easily as you would have to onto the man you hated the most. “I ask you to be mine.”

You don’t expect the sudden shift.

You don’t expect the wind to pick up, you don’t expect for a murder of crows to materialize from the midnight darkness and crowd on a tree right behind you. Letting the tree root slip from your fingers, you whirl around - what- a storm?

But before you can think of any answers, that withered branch shoots further out of the ground. Barely giving you a split-second to jump backwards before cupping your cheek, gently.

And you could’ve sworn that one twig glides across your cheek - just the way one’s thumb would have. Like the softest of lovers.

Gasping in fear, you fall backwards, splaying out into the uncomfortably bone-chilling snow below.

You can only watch as the tree root twitches once. Twice. And your ears thunder with the high-pitched howls of the wind, and a sudden, booming bang! bang! bang!

Shit.

Your eyes widen, it was coming from under the ground.

The ground that was splitting open before your very eyes.

Wider. And wider. Like something was baring itself before you. Something was clawing all the way from hell, that tree root only surging up, up, upwards in a long, limb-like fashion. Branching out into five fingers that dig their way into the ground. Hard.

And if you didn’t think you were about to faint from just this - you were definitely on the verge of it when the fingers lead their way into a forearm, a shoulder. Miles upon miles of skin - a person, towering above you, silhouetted by moonlight.

He looks at you with sapphire eyes. Close.

A man.

Beautiful.

Whispering, “I do.” Nose to cold nose, thick white lashes fluttering shut. “You may now kiss the groom.”

---

You’re barely half-awake when you realize that that was probably the strangest dream you’ve had in your life.

Groaning, you rub blearily at your eyes - yet, through the bursts of stars and pounding flashes of headaches, all you can think about is him and his chilling lips on yours.

Soft, like a leaving lover.

Even in your most feverish of dreams, you’d never conjured up anyone so ethereal. Tall, powerful despite the almost-sickly air about him, and the deep circles underneath his gleaming eyes.

But so gorgeous - sorrowfully so.

The image burned permanently into your mind, like your most favorite of memories. Every tiny detail down from the almost-blinding reflection of the moon against his cloudy hair, to how that illuminated his soft smile - that tiny dimple at the corner of his pert, pretty mouth.

You remember how he wore a wedding suit, the kind that nobles these days wouldn’t dare touch with a six foot sword with how it looked centuries out of fashion. Stark white, with fine silver detailing down the velvety fabric for you to admire.

How ironic, somehow, the thought made you sad.

But most of all, you especially remember the way he looked at you.

Just like he was right now.

“Ah!”

“Now that’s not usually the reaction I- fuck!”

He was real. So painfully real.

And clutching his face where you’d claimed a swat at one of high cheekbones.

“Ouch, my wife has a real good arm on her, huh?” Blinking back the haziness in your eyes, you catch sight of that same summer blue gaze, eyes crinkled slightly at the ends. Tender, despite being attacked by you less than a minute after gaining consciousness. “Though, I love a strong woman.”

“New arrival! Looks like we got ourselves a breather-”

“Looks like she fainted, is she alright? You know we can’t keep her long-”

“Can I touch her? Looks so soft~”

White - white fills your vision, too-late are you realizing that you’re being pressed into the soft coat of his chest. Inching you away from a hulking, four-armed creature, he mutters, “She’s my wife, you curse.”

“What-” It takes you a few more seconds to finally find your voice. In those moments you look up to take in his boyishly pretty features - about your age. Human, had it not been for that otherworldly faint blue pallor. “Is this a joke? Where am-”

Choking on your words as you take a sweeping look around the - tavern? Realm? It looked like the very same one in your own town, except bright. Musical. Everything that your home wasn’t. Finding faces you could never imagine looking at you - some beautiful, some mere skeletons, all taken out of your wildest dreams.

And all dead, it hits you with a jolt.

Yet, somehow, you’ve never felt safer in his arms.

“Something wrong, my love?”

You pinch yourself, “I need questions- now.”

“You mean answers.” One from the pub crowd scoffs - a towering man, handsome. He’d look ever-so-ordinary if it wasn’t for the completely skeletal arm on his left side. And of course, that same death-like serenity. “Honestly, Gojo, you picked an airhead or what?”

The man that still held you - Gojo, you assume - whines in protest, “Shut up, Toji. I’d always love her regardless- and she said her vows so perfectly.”

“I did…” you breathe.

Shit.

Shit shit shit- you did.

Cocking your head, you ask. “Who are you?”

He’s rolling his eyes, gifting you a crooked grin of pearly whites. “Your husband, obviously?”

And before you can pinch yourself again to make sure you weren’t dreaming, and that last time was a fluke - or perhaps smack him again - Gojo shows off one slender hand. Naoya Zenin’s ring adorned proudly across his ring finger. Your ring. With your vows.

“So…” you let out a giggle of still disbelief. “You’re the tree-”

“Not quite but-”

“Oh! I love this story- could make a skeleton cry.”

“Heh, yeah yeah sing it, king of curses.”

“Please don’t.”

“You see, welcome to the Land of the Dead, doll.” A man with pink hair sets down his drink to throw one of his four arms around your shoulder, much to Gojo’s chagrin. Words dripping with taunt, “N’ lemme tell you the story of our lovely corpse groom.”

You’re dragged along through the crowded, eerily lit tavern, everyone jostling each other to better get a look at you. Poking and prodding, some even gasping at the feeling of your thundering pulse.

He hums, “Here we have a pompous prince known miles around-” And you could tell him and Gojo had already known each other long, with how he was toying with the other man. “-fell hard and fast for a cute lil’ peasant girl much like yourself-”

“Sukuna, stop it.” Gojo grits, jaw clenched.

“-but, alas. When dear ol’ dad the king said ‘no’, he jus’ couldn’t cope. So our dear lovers came up with a plan to elope-”

You’re thrust into the arms of an attractive blond man, almost half of his entire face held together with stitches and bone. Heaving out a sigh in a way you could very much feel akin to, “Meeting up late at night is always a stupid plan, even with all the wine and riches for the road. You might not need much when you have love, but you never know what’s lurking. And, well, on that dark night, our prince here paid the price.” When you look back at the white-haired man his eyes seemed significantly softer, if that was even possible.

Toji’s the one by your side this time, “Poof! Dropped dead as dust waiting for his dear girl, no evidence, no body, no bride. What a crybaby he was when he arrived. Didn’t even want to stay here-”

“-because then he made a promise to wait upstairs.” Another man - with such gorgeous, long hair makes himself known this time. Forehead littered in strange stitches, as if it’d been opened and fixed many, many times. “And waited and waited asleep for one hundred years to this day until out of the blue, you came along, sweetness. The lovely bride, to our corpse groom.”

You.

And Gojo looks at you like he can’t look away.

Lone, standing there with his arms open as the story tapers out. Waiting.

Until you came along.

---

“HERE YE, HERE YE…FUTURE BRIDE OF ZENIN HOUSE SEEN LURKING IN THE FOREST WITH A MYSTERY MAN– now for the weather…”

“What?” your mother hisses at the bellows of the local newsman, well, rumor-spreader, more like. But he’s never been more useful than now. Sneaking an urgent glance at the stunned Dutchess Zenin by her side, she elbows your father, “We come outside to search for our daughter only to hear this? How could we let this-”

“Maybe it’s a ah- slow news day?”

They’re interrupted by a sudden, sharp clearing of one’s throat - dripping with the distinct tone of condescension that only a member of the Zenin family could possess. “We are one bride short for the wedding tomorrow. What a scandal!”

“Ah!” she’s gasping. Waving her hands frantically, “W-we promise we’ll find her before the wedding-”

“You better.”

“No.” Naoya Zenin’s voice was brimming with something dangerous, an eerie, steady lilt of determination to it. But he’s not even looking at anyone in the group, eyes trained firmly on the woody entrance to the forest in the distance. “I’ll be the one to find her.”

Finally, something that seems to appease the huffing matriarch.

Only leaving her sullen son with a nod of approval, “And Naoya…” She makes sure the other two bothers were out of earshot, greedily scurrying back to the warmth of the Zenin household. “Remember, the ah- family funds are drying up. Hurry.”

---

Gojo Satoru, you learn, was as nervous about this marriage as you were.

“This is where I always visited after first dying.” he muses, ice-cold fingers wrapped snugly with yours as he guides you gently through various crooked stairs and skeletons of town. “The view takes my breath away- well, if I could breathe, that is.”

You’re startling out a laugh that has both of you surprised, and he turns to you with such breathless awe.

“Beautiful.”

“What-” your eyes widen - and you don’t know whether it’s from his sudden little compliment, or from where you two had finally stopped walking.

A steep cliff, overlooking the entire, vast town of multi-color lights. The rigid structure from where you came could never compare. Complete chaos. But as pretty as those paintings you read about in books, views you never thought you’d see.

You rest your hands atop the spindly barrier surrounding the very edge, marveling. “It is beautiful…”

“It is.” Gojo’s tone is rich, and his eyes never stray from you despite all else there is to drink in. It takes you a few moments of counting all the bustling figures in the distance before you finally mount up the courage to meet his hypnotic gaze.

Gojo jolts when you look his way, as if he wasn’t expecting it. Hastily, he flusters to pat down the sides of his suit - tattered at places, patchy as if once-pristine but ruined with age. He’s smiling once he ruffles through his breast pocket, pulling out something glinting.

You’re letting out a tiny gasp when he shows off a silver, heart-shaped locket. Intricate, obviously custom-tailored - you’d never quite seen anything like it. Positively beaming with all the shine that the rest of him had lost.

Treasured.

“It’s for you.”

“What?” Your jaw falls slack in shock, pushing away Gojo’s held-out hands. But he was ever-persistent. “Please- I can’t, that- that looks like it should be for someone precious.”

“And it is.”

This was the firmest you’d heard his sing-song voice, and at your slightest split-second of faltering, he snatches the opportunity to circle his hands around your neck. Deftly clasping it from behind, Gojo only smiles, soft pads of his fingers lingering at your nape. “I’ve had it for years.” You wanted to know exactly how many years that meant. “Consider it a wedding gift~”

Your own dust over the cool metal pendant, heart lurching. “If only you let me know about our wedding in advance, I would’ve gifted you something, too.”

“Heh, you don’t have to.”

“Do too”

“Do not.”

“Do too.” You cross your arms, boring your eyes into his. “I’m not going to be an unfit wife.”

There’s a second of silence.

One.

Two.

And at this point, you half-expected your parents and Naoya’s to just burst from behind the nearby stairway to tell you this was all some elaborate test - before Gojo just explodes in peels of cackles.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry I- hah!” he’s barely able to wheeze out, wiping away stray tears of joy. “You never change, huh-”

It takes the embarrassed tapping of your feet for Gojo to finally straighten back up to his tall figure, muttering out a few more indiscernible phrases underneath his breath. Clearing his throat, “Now who said you’d ever be an ‘unfit wife’, sweetheart- Y’know I really didn’t believe Toji’s airhead comment but- oh-”

You land a half-hearted punch solidly in his stomach - and usually, you’d think twice, thrice before acting this familiar with anyone. Even then, you wouldn’t follow through underneath your mother’s watchful eye.

Ah, but you’ve never smiled harder when you claim. “I think I won our first argument as a married couple.”

“Oh, can you do this f’me when I have an argument with Sukuna, next?” Gojo chuckles, wiggling his brows.

He has to dodge your playful hand a few more times - well, he would have had to. But he’s taking them all gladly, pulling you by the wrist to press you flush against his chest. “But fine, you win. Maybe as a wedding gift we can consumm- I’m kidding I’m kidding- follow me, I have the perfect idea.”

And you couldn’t not come with him, with the way that Gojo was eagerly dragging you through the town plaza and back into the now-empty tavern, where you’d remembered had a grand piano nestled away.

Gojo’s pulling out the seat for you, before promptly taking his own flush beside you. Nudging you with one of his shoulders, he starts up a beautifully haunting few lower notes. Delicate. “You don’t have to play, you can listen if you’d like-”

“Hey, I know this one.” you’re gasping, eyes lighting up with the recognition of that familiar somber from the Zenin house. But something about it this time felt so right.

Before you know it, your hands are moving faster than you can hold them back, joining Gojo in his sweeping melody on the higher notes. It rings in the air around you two, jostling your body up against his.

“You know it.” he breathes, such a brilliant grin making way onto his pretty features when you two continue your little duet. And you swear you could hear him suck in a sharp inhale before playing even harder on the keys - a challenge.

And you were never one to back down.

“Heh, you’re not half bad-” But his own little boast gets cut off by Gojo’s half-skeletal wrist snapping off, twiddling up, up, up the grand piano and on its merry way around your shoulder. “Pardon my enthusiasm, my love.”

You help him reattach it back, an interesting quirk of being half-dead, you suppose. “I like your enthusiasm.”

There’s a slow, stuttering silence that echoes afterwards, and you’re shivering from the slightly cold bite of the underground. Gojo wraps his full arm around your shoulder this time, and you don’t have the heart to tell him that he was still bone-cold.

“How…” he gulps, barely meeting your eyes. “How did you know that song?”

But you couldn’t tear yours away from him, “Oh? That song? Well- before I uh- married you, I was actually engaged-”

His pretty lips fall slack, “Oh…”

You’re not sure why you hasten to explain yourself, “B-but he was a prick- and I threw a wine cup at him just before coming here.”

“That’s my girl.” Gojo winks, and you’re feeling your skin heat up.

“Anyway, this song was to be played at the wedding. So my mother made me memorize every single note- she failed to tell me it was a duet, however.”

“It was.”

Something about those two words comes out breathless, barely hanging on. And you’re biting your bottom lip ragged before the question escapes you, “You were engaged, as well? Before- as a prince- I mean- oh, forget-”

To your surprise, Gojo only chuckles - deep voice breaking ever-so-slightly at the very end. His fingers glide across the piano with a familiar sadness that you can’t quite pinpoint. Chest rumbling, “Well, it’s just as the others said. We were meant to run away together, but your dear ol’ husband here died just before we could.”

You’re swallowing the lead that’d seemed to piled up heavily in your throat, still afraid to push too far. “And the- the bride? What happened to her?”

“I…don’t know…she probably saw I wasn’t there and went back, had a happier life with a more deserving husband- children, even.” He looks towards the perpetual night sky, Adam’s apple bobbing heftily. “It’s funny- today’s a hundred years since that day.”

Something hurt. And your chest churned at the thought of him waiting and waiting in the darkness for years. For someone.

“You loved her?”

He looks at you - really looks at you - and then down at the gleaming locket. “I love her. And I made a promise, I wait for her - in life and death.”

Something really hurt - and it wasn’t just that hollow, aching burn in your chest. No, your head was now throbbing with such a splitting pain that you can’t help but grab your temple with a yelp. Eyes scrunching shut with tears, trying to down out that drilling thrum.

“Shit-” you’re hearing, foggy, like it was in the distance. “Shit shit shit-” Big arms wrap around you, “Are you alright? Shit-”

The swinging pub doors slam-

“What happened?”

“The bride from upstairs-”

“She’s still here?! She already dead or what?”

More and more voices are joining in - and you’re not sure if you’re thankful that they drown out that harrowing thunder of blood in your ears or angry that they’re making it ache more deafeningly in response.

“Please- space.” Gojo’s stern command rings across the plaza, for a moment of clarity you’re thinking that he’d make the perfect leader of sorts. The perfect prince. “My wife needs space, and you all will leave-”

Nanami’s strict tremor was distinguishable anywhere. “What she needs is to go back upstairs, Gojo.” Another pair of rough hands grasp your shoulders, and you hear a growl from above you. “With fresh air, with her kind. I don’t know what fantasy you’re playing out but she needs to be back with the breathers, down here isn’t good for her.”

“But-”

Just at that unfortunate moment, your head wracks with another painful burst, making you cry out. Clinging onto Gojo’s soft jacket for dear life.

“But she’s my wife.”

Everyone goes quiet.

You were sure he was crying now, and oh how badly you wanted to reach out and comfort him. But, instead, Gojo’s the one soothing a hand down your back, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. He breathes in deep, grounding gasps by the chain of your locket, “N-nanamin’s right- we- I have to get you back.”

Your eyes shoot open, “What- no-”

“It’s for your own good.” Pressing a slow kiss to your forehead, “Trust me.”

“But-”

“Please?”

---

Gojo Satoru had spent so long in the darkness, that he’d almost forgotten how beautiful the moonlight is.

Even more so when you were by his side.

“Oh…” And despite not having a beating heart, he swears he could feel it racing at the crisp scrunch! of freshly fallen snow underneath his polished shoes. Arms immediately wrapping around your waist, twirling you to him, “How I missed the beautiful upstairs.”

You’re giggling, batting your lashes up at him. “Well, you’re not doing much sightseeing right now, are you, Gojo?”

“Please.” He rests his icy forehead against yours, waltzing you slowly around the clearing. Your first dance. “Call me Satoru, I would like to part ways having heard my name on your tongue once, than not at all.”

And ah, it hurt him more than that dull, spreading pain of death to simply see your expression crumble. Lower lip wobbling when you whisper, “Do we have to?”

It’s as if that tiny tremble in your voice jolts him back to his senses, and he’s letting go of you as if you burned. Turning his back so that you won’t see him swipe underneath his dampening eyes, “We do.” he nods solemnly. Still gazing out through the barren trees, the snow breaking in. “But I would…if you’d like- I would really like you to say my name just once.”

Nothing - not one of your quipping insults, not even one of your sweet, sweet giggles. Gojo could barely even hear that shallow breathing of yours.

“My love?”

Nothing.

Gojo whirls around, “My love?”

Nothing.

---

“Let me go let me- go-” you spit, voice dripping with a deadly growl that should decidedly not be used in front of your future in-laws. But you didn’t give a fuck right now. “I will never- ah-”

Unceremoniously, you’re thrown like a mere debris in front of Dutchess Zenin’s gold-tipped boots, hands splaying out against the cool marble to dredge up some ounce of balance. You look up into her burning glare, hissing, “I will never marry your son.”

But it’s like you’d never spoken at all.

She’s turning to Naoya, stood proudly behind you, holding back his snickers. “Ah, my son-” Reaching her arms around to brush off the soft pattering of snow down his coat. “-I see you’ve brought your wife back.”

“Of course, mother.” he’s humming. “Had to walk all throughout that crummy forest until I saw her-” At this, he’s turning towards your parents, who could only watch from the sidelines. “-with another man no less- well, can’t quite call him that if he didn’t even see his woman being dragged off into the dark.”

Dutchess Zenin cackles,and the sound makes you grit your teeth. “That other man is my husband-”

“What?”

It’s your own mother speaking this time - eyes widened. Fuming. She comes up to you in a few urgent, sharp strides, grabbing at the now-torn and frayed edges of your gown. “What nonsense are you speaking-” Sneaking a glance at your father, “Our daughter seems to have lost her mind, dear.”

He’s just a bit more gentle - cautious, almost. As if confronting a cornered wildcat when he ruffles through your pockets for the ring. Finding none.

You’re wrenching yourself away, “I’m fine- but father, listen- I was practicing my vows in the forest-” Every eye was on you know, and oh you’ve never felt more of a spectacle. “-and I put that wedding ring on a tree root- and it- it came alive and oh- he was a groom. A beautiful corpse groom-”

“That trip to the forest must have bogged up her mind- yes yes, she must be imagining things.”

“Of course, but the wedding…poor dear-”

“The only thing she’s good for is the money.” Dutchess Zenin gruffs, tired of hiding her disdain. “And maybe a free trip to the hospi-”

“The wedding will take place.” Naoya cuts in gruffly, snapping his fingers at a nearby attendant and pointing at you. “Call the officiary, and as for my future bride, I don’t care if you must force her into that wedding dress, I don’t care if you have to drag her here - she will marry me one way or the other. Now.”

It’s like you’re a puppet - their puppet. Being rapidly walked and bathed about, dolled-up in a white, silken wedding dress that you could never see yourself standing in next to him.

It fits you like a glove, attuned to your body as if it was made for you - and you almost hated how beautiful it was, adorned with tiny silver inklings and the most delicate of lace. Made with too much love to be borne out of this dreary household, but when you turned to ask your jittery handmaiden about it, she’d only cryptically answered about “the dress being with this family for a long, long time.”

No one here seems to give you answers.

Or grace.

Or anything but locked windows that you crack a nail or two attempting to open and flee and a long, decorated aisle to walk down to your future husband. Naoya.

Your throat tightens when you’re stepping back into that hallway - now flourishing with bouquets of blue, blue baby’s breath, and twinkling candles. It was almost colorful, for this town, at least.

You shudder out a teary sigh when the tender piano starts up again - the exact same tune you’d played with Gojo. But cold. And suddenly, you’re realizing that you never asked him how he knew the song.

“Pssst! Walk!” Your mother’s high-pitched hiss is enough to snap you out of your little reverie, glassy eyes snapping up to look at her urgent signal to hurry up.

And so you walk, but not to the one man you wanted to.

Naoya’s smirk lies as smugly as ever when you take your place beside him at the altar, poised, and perfect in his pressed suit, his glinting sword. Whispering snidely from the corner of his mouth. “Smile a little, it’s a wedding after all.”

You keep your gaze trained firmly on the officiary starting his speech, “Perhaps in disappointment, we are perfectly matched.”

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join this man and this bride in holy matrimony-” Gesturing a wrinkled hand at Naoya, “You may begin first.”

He raises his hand in a solemn oath, razor eyes boring relentlessly into yours. Voice dangerous, humming. “With this hand, I will lift your sorrows.” This time, he was pointedly the one to pick up that cup on the altar table - a steady, unbreakable metal this time. “Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine.”

Your trembly fingers wrap around the bottle of wine, starting to slowly pour. “With this hand, I will lift your sorrows. Your cup will never be empty for I- I will be…”

Shit.

Shit, you can’t do it.

Your words struggle to come out, and you could burn in the sheer anger already wafting from Naoya.

“I will- I will be-”

“How scandalous to marry an already-married woman~!”

The gasp that echoes throughout the hall is almost as deafening as the booming crash! of those towering, mahogany doors being swung open. Clattering against the walls so hard that your teeth chatter with vibration - but you didn’t care. Didn’t even feel it because you’re too awe-struck by what was standing in front of you.

Or more accurately, who.

“Satoru!” The tears are falling hotly down your cheeks, you barely have the patience to lift up your layers upon layers of gauzy skirts before stumbling your way into his arms at the very end of the aisle. Ready. Ever-loving. Catching you easily like he’d been waiting a hundred years for this very moment.

“I thought you left me waiting.” he breathes.

“I would never- and- and you’re here.”

“Mhm–”

You can’t help but let out a laugh, “How did you even know where to find me?”

“Our duet- there would be no other but this house that would know it-” He wraps his arms even more snugly around your waist, white locks tickling your nose. “And you did promise to lift my sorrows, what type of husband would I be if I didn’t do the same?”

“You. You- What- what is the meaning of this?” Dutchess Zenin’s squawk tears through your little moment, she’s whirling into a furious stand, fists clenched. “Married woman- husband? You’re dead!”

Gojo remains calm, sapphire eyes narrowing, “I am.”

But the ever-composed woman you’d feared for so long was now running her mouth a mile a minute, half-ripping out chunks of hair in frustration as the officiary held her back from storming her way towards the two of you.

“You’re dead you’re dead you’re dead-” she screeches, and even Naoya could only watch with his mouth fallen. “You’re dead- my family made sure of that-”

She stops short, mouth opening and closing in a gasp until you breathe, “M-made sure?”

“Yes-” She’s fighting against the hold, still muttering to herself maniacally. “Shit- we made sure to- oh god why- do we have to kill you all over again! Your wretched Gojo royal family is wiped out- I still- I still have the power, the riches- All because we left you-”

“For dead.” he whispers. You’re too shocked to gasp - to do anything but look up at his reaction. “But she came back to me.”

“Her? This one- Once more you found that insignificant little-”

And at this very moment, Naoya just bellows in a guttural scream, everything his mother was restrained from doing with how he’d closed the gap between you two in a few urgent seconds. One hand wrapped roughly around yours, “I don’t care- You forget she was engaged to me first.”

“She’s still my wife.” Gojo spits.

“Not if you’re-” Naoya’s unsheathing his sword haphazardly. Swinging. “Dead!”

Schwing–!

It would have been sure to hit you.

Would have been sure to gravely injure your side - if Gojo hadn’t deftly moved himself squarely in front of you, that is. The sharp blade slicing right through his ribs - yet, he still smiles. “You forget I already am.” In one, fluid motion tackling the sword to holt at its bejeweled hilt - pointed right at Naoya’s chest. “Let go of me and my wife, before you join me.”

It’s silence.

Silence and the smell of fear. Sour, and saturated when Naoya’s stepping away, one unsteady foot after the other-

“I will ruin you as my ancestors have, Gojo brat-”

Dutchess Zenin.

Your body moves before your mind - before any form of thinking, as if on instinct. Yet, you already knew what was coming.

And soon enough, you’re standing in front of a stunned Gojo, face splattered with the red, red wine in her silvery cup. Drip! drip! dripping down your stained lips and onto the marbled floors.

But something about it tasted bitter.

Different.

And all of a sudden - you see dark.

“Poison! By gods, the wine was poisoned!”

“How will the wedding go on?”

“No- no no no I just wanted to her sick- to get her will–shit-”

“My love---listen----hear--me?”

In the foggy distance, you could hear girlish, high-pitched screams that sounded strangely like Naoya’s, and the familiarly dark chuckle of- Sukuna? Sounding ready to pounce on fresh meat. “Heheh, new arrival - and some unfinished business, huh?”

“S’Toru–” you’re whispering, eyes blearily. Heart cold. Suddenly, everything about you was cold. And the only thing you could register right now is the fact that you were still in his arms - always was. “Toru- am I- where am I?”

“You’re here, sweetheart.” he gasps, big fat tears splattering onto your face. The only sense of warmth that you could feel, other than the one in your no-longer-beating heart. And you can’t help but wonder - can a heart be broken even when it stops beating? Because he was living two deaths now - his own - laying there poisoned with wine so long ago on the forest floor, with only the Zenin’s to watch, and you to wait for him much later - and most importantly, yours. “You’re- you’re here, with me.” He places a sweet, sweet kiss onto your lips. “Rest now, I’ll wait for you. I promise- I promise.”

And through your hazy vision, the only thing that you could quite see was that silver locket you’d never thought to look through, out of fear - sprung open. Baring two grainy, clouded portraits - as good as a photo.

Of him

And…you.

“I’ll always wait for you, in life and death.”

---

“Hey- Toru–” your voice rings out in Gojo’s favorite song, peering curiously at the boyishly grinning prince. “Do you think I’ll be an unfit wife?”

He throws his head back with a cackle, peering through his long lashes from where he was resting his head in your lap. “What- no? Whatever makes you think that, silly girl?”

You’re settling yourself further down the young oak - your favorite little hiding spot ever since you’d introduced your secret lover to it. Grumbling half-jokingly, you thread your fingers through his soft, snow-white hair. “Well perhaps because someone refuses to help me do anything in preparation for tonight-”

“Shhh!” Gojo’s bringing a finger to his lips, glancing around over-dramatically. “You never know when my father will be jumping from behind the bushes.” At your amused laughter, “N’ besides, doesn’t matter if we’re going to elope, I’m not letting my wife pick up a thing.”

“What- no-”

“I’ll snag my wedding suit- and that specially-made dress for you heh- and get the attendants to sneak out some leftovers from the banquet. The Zenin family has just gifted some wine I know you’ll love.”

Craning his head to press a slow kiss to your forehead, “We’ll drink, we’ll say our vows- you better have memorized them this time-” And another on your nose, “Then I’ll have you drunk in another way~ ow! Okay okay- don’t hit royalty–! And run away to our happily ever after.” Then, finally, lingeringly on your mouth,“Trust me.”

“But-”

“Please?”

You’re fiddling with the chain around your hefty, heart-shaped locket with a huff, finally caving in. “Fine- but then-” Deftly unclasping it, “-you have the responsibility of keeping this safe, too, I have to teach piano to the little ones in town again today, and if anyone catches me with a piece like this I’ll be hanged for thievery before ever getting married.”

“Our duet?”

“Our duet.”

He twirls that delicate pendant around his fingers, brows scrunching in half-seriousness. “I’ll protect it with my life-” Almost flinging it towards the end of the clearing in his haste to salute you, “Ah- pardon my enthusiasm, my love.”

“I like your enthusiasm, dummy.” you’re rolling your eyes at his antics. “But what if I’m late? The music lessons always take so long…”

“Just meet me here at our place - promise I’ll wait for you, of course. In life and death.”

You never did find out if Gojo Satoru waited for you.

You never found him that night - running late to the clearing, only to be met with no sign of him. Not that night. Not the night after. Night after night, you waited for him - watched as the Gojo royal family fell and the Zenin’s raided their palace, as the town started to grow and you stayed the very same.

With stray hope, even in your final ages, waiting for him and the marriage that won’t take place.

Not for a hundred years.

---

You’re waking up remembering the feeling of those cold, cold lips on yours.

Finally, remembering.

“Sa-Toru-” you’re gasping, gulping in heavy lungfuls of air before you realize - you don’t need it anymore. Eyes startling open, you wince at the even the dim, heady lighting overhead. “I’m…”

“Dead.”

His words are gentle - just above a whisper, as if anything else will scare you off. But his words have the complete opposite reaction, in fact, you’re reeling him in so close by the silvery lapels of his weathered jacket. Wedding suit meeting your wedding dress.

You feel over his broad chest, and then over yours. Breathing out in awe, “I- I really am dead.”

Gojo’s wincing, running the soft pads of his fingers down your scalp. Massaging, “How- how do you feel, my love?”

Too-late you’re realizing that you’re splayed out on what seems like a plush, engulfing bed. Blankets upon blankets of velvety fabrics covering the surface, like someone had tried their very best to replicate warmth.

“I think I feel…” you’re muttering, the very corners of your painted lips turning upwards at the way that Gojo was hanging onto your every word. Pretty mouth dropped into a soft oh! eyes wide and true. You just can’t help but drag him into the tightest embrace your joints could possibly handle. “-that I haven’t spent enough alone-time with my husband.”

He laughs - he laughs and laughs like he hasn’t before, like it’d been bubbling up in his throat for years and finally set free.

“Oh, my love.” Gojo reveres, pressing a trail of hot kisses down the side of your face. Lingering in a languid lick where big, salty tears of yours were welling up. “We have all the time in the world- I just- just- do you remember?”

You’re pretending to think, leaving him careening at all your minute expressions. Finally cracking, “Of course, I remember- all of it, dummy-” Swatting his chest, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He’s gulping heavily, “I always knew that- that it was you the moment I saw your face- you look exactly as you did. Exactly as beautiful as the day I lost you, after all.” Cupping your cheek, “And oh, sweetheart, what a blessing it would be to marry you. But how could I ever tell you when you didn’t even remember me? How could I so selfishly ask you to throw away something so dear as life for me? Even for a promise?”

“I would have done it.” you’re pouting, brows scrunching.

“Exactly.”

“I waited for you, y’know. For years, until my death. No ‘deserving husband’, and no children.”

He gasps a tiny, meaningful gasp. And for all how Gojo loved to run his mouth, right now he only presses a sultry kiss to your forehead, “But in this life, or the last, or whatever comes next-” On your nose now, “-I’ll wait for you. Always have, always will.” Finally - yearningly - on your mouth, “In life and in death.”

Gojo kisses you like he’s been waiting a hundred years for it - and would wait a hundred more before he can again.

Pressing one, two. Three steamingly hot, open-mouthed on your spit-glossed lips before moving to trail them down the underside of your jaw. Dragging his raw lips in a messy glide, he’s tittering when all it takes is one sudden bite at the soft spot on your neck to get you to jump.

“Heh- you never change-” he murmurs into your heated skin, licking down the sting with a slow spread of his tongue.

“T-Toru–” you’re managing to gasp out despite his relentless attack on your mouth. Making him wrench out such a pained grunt when you pull his face back ever-so-slightly to look into Gojo’s eyes. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Gojo can only cock his head in confusion, gaze still half-lidded and locked on your lips.

“You’re forgetting your promise from all those years ago–” you’re dragging out in a honeyed-tone, giggling at the way his hulking body squirms impatiently. “-to consummate our marriage.”

And oh.

Oh, Gojo Satoru feels he’s dying six times over already.

He feels like his bleary head is about to go into overdrive - as was the sudden tightening in his pants.

“W-well then…” he’s rasping out, voice so ragged, dipping into a husky baritone that for a second you almost don’t recognize it. Two of his long fingers cup your face once more - rougher this time, making your lips squeeze together into an almost-embarrassing oh! “Open that mouth f’me, my love.”

You barely even realize it when you do - not until Gojo’s spitting a thick, translucent wad of his syrupy saliva right onto your lolling tongue.

Nodding smugly when you’re taking him all, he’s swiping the curve of his thick thumb down that purposeful splatter on the corner of your lips. Because you knew the prince of a nation should have perfect aim, you knew he just liked seeing your dewy eyes flutter.

Whispering hoarsely against your lips, “I ask you to be mine.”

“Yes-” you’re whining, your hands scrambling down the decadent fabrics of his suit. “Yes yes yes- please- n-need more, Toru-”

And the sound of that cute lil’ nickname you’d made for him in that sweetened tone makes Gojo’s entire body wrack with a violent shudder. Head throwing back, white lashes flickering shut- “O-oh, shit- shit you’re gonna be the death of me-”

But whatever little joke playing on your tongue just dissipates when Gojo’s shedding his outer coat off slowly. Bloodied, silken jacket hitting the ground- bloodied? You’ll have to ask about that later.

And then his mouth is on yours again - teeth clashing, tasting metal, his pretty lips wrapping around your hot tongue to just suck. Lazily, like his favorite candy.

“So beautiful-” his words puff out in a feverish pant. Chest huffing - no, heaving - you can only keen when you feel something so hard and massive nudge up in a gentle kiss against your high. “So perfect–” The sodden curve of his achy tip dragging in a wet smear down your leg. “So mine.”

As soon as you’re blinking your dazed eyes back open, you’re hit with what looked like miles upon miles of Gojo Satoru. Curving muscles sitting prettily and casting shadow in the low lighting - it made you just drool.

Shit, when did he even take his shirt off?

“Heh, already so needy, sweetheart?” He kisses up the glossy trickle, groaning into your mouth, “So cute–”

But, of course, you weren’t exactly one to be pushed around, either.

With a low purr, you cup that bulging tent right in-between his muscled thighs. Fingers skimming over inches upon inches of his girthy, solid shaft - he just gasps. “O-oh, you little minx- do you enjoy p-playing with my hngh- sanity?”

With a snicker, it doesn’t take you long to smudge the pads of your digits at that thickly spreading pool of precum. Glossing a thin sheen all the way down to your wrists with how fucking greedily he was throbbing at your touch.

“F-fuck-” he’s hastily clearing his throat as soon as it breaks off into a pathetic whine. Hips bucking forwards in mindless, staggering gyrations into your hand like Gojo didn’t even realize what he was doing right now. “Fuck fuck fuck- honey, I-”

The neediest little grunts spill from his puffed-up lips, and he’s moving urgently - hastily, when sitting upright to all but rip that bejeweled belt off of his slender waist. Tugging his white pants down, down, down and-

Oh.

“Fuck, Toru.”

Gojo was so unfairly pretty - all of him.

Even every single inch of his long, thick shaft, smeared with glistening precum sobbing out from his fat, round head. Blushed darker than the rest of him - matching his innocent cheeks right now. So hard it looked painful.

Twitching over and over in saturated gushes coating his prominently throbbing veins, his tight balls. Your fingers.

Wrapping tight around his flushed base, he was so incredibly big that you’re worried your fingers wouldn’t even close. Scratching up against those drenched tufts of cloudy white at his toned pelvis, the sight is enough to make you gulp.

“Yes-” Gojo’s rasping, head thrown back because shit did it feel good to have your pretty lil’ fingers all wrapped around him. Hips stuttering up, up, up- “Yes yes yes- c’mon- c-c’mon my wife-”

Shit, those words spilling from his lips are enough to steer into such a loud moan, and he’s letting his jaw fall unhinged. Jaw-droppingly powerful back muscles flexing when he falls into a hunch, kissing wetly at your lips.

“Tighter- squeeze ah, squeeze me at my tip-” Gojo’s babbling, drunken eyes so thoroughly locked on where you were pumping your fist back and forth. “Y-yeah hngh- and glide your thumb over just—”

You’re swiping the very tip of your thumb underneath that sensitive slit of his, the slightest touch enough to make him bawl out in a dripping sheen of precum. Reddening even more, his hefty girth in your hand jolts sensitively.

“S-s’this–” you stagger out, wrist aching when you’re moving it faster. And faster. Ears ringing with the sloppy fap! fap! fap! of your fingers clenching around his thick, circular girth, the splatters of precum it’s forcing from him. Kissing gently down his burning shoulder, “S’this good, Toru?”

And god, how dare you even ask that?

With a sudden groan, he crashes his lips into yours again. Addicted. Growling against your whiny mouth, you’re flinching at the nip of his sharp canines.

“Oh, yer perfect-” he’s blinking back big, fat tears from behind those glassy eyes. And the soft plane of his palms dance ravenously down your body - all your curves, your dips where your wedding dress was hiking up. But most importantly at your sopping wet cunt. “-so so- p-perfect- any harder n’ m’gonna make ya a pretty momma right now, right here.”

His words come out a burst - a beg.

In that very heady moment he’s just bullying his thick digits past your soaked pussy - absolutely useless with how fucking translucent it was. Sticking to your sopping wet folds like a second skin that he wanted to rip off.

“S-so oh!” Sucking in a sharp gasp at the sight of that tiny lace wrapped around his fingers, “Such a pretty cunt, wearin’ such a dirty lil’ thing, naughty girl- who was this for?”

And you couldn’t dare bear to wrench your lips open, to meet that dark glint in Gojo’s gaze. Hooded, such a slow, leering grin growing all over his face when the seconds tumble by. When your softened fingers falter around his length.

“Who was this for?” he’s echoing. “N’ no lying to your h-husband.”

“Toru-”

“Tell me, my pretty wife.”

“It was-” you’re mewling out, choking on your tiny confession when he slides his index solidly down the drippingly wet purse of your swollen pussy lips. Puffed-up and sensitive against where he was rubbing that cool metal ring against them. “-w-was for ngh- N-Naoya- but it was Dutchess Zenin that made me-”

Oh, but fuck - it didn’t matter who made you wear those sinful panties.

Because it’s only taking Gojo Satoru a split-second to crane his hot mouth downwards and bite down on the very hem of your saturated panties. Biting the edge of your skin only slightly - before just tearing the fabric off with his very teeth.

He takes a few seconds with his greedy gaze boring into yours, crazed. Canines bared glintingly around that tender lace, he just groans.

Eyes rolling to the back of his head before spitting it out - and kissing you like you’ve never been kissed before.

“H-hngh, Toru–” you’re moaning, your fingers half-cramping up with the way they were turning around his swollen cock. Swiveling around the heated bumps of his sensitive spots, the drag of your nails gently down his veins make him shiver. “Feels so- ah!”

And ah, for how much Gojo loved those saccharine sweet moans in your ear, how much he loved teasing you - he was hungry.

Shoveling all the way into your gummy channel, until your puffy pussy lips were kissing his very knuckles, gushing out in spurts of wet slick down his wrist. Twirling those cold digits, so stark against how toasty you were inside.

It made Gojo’s thickened tip twitch in your fingers, huffing out a humorless laugh when he was easily knocking against that bulbous bullseye of your g-spot. Pressing down. Hard.

“Mhm—” he’s purring, nosing down the tender crook of your neck. “Tell me how it feels- hngh- gotta tell me- fuck oh fuck don’ squeeze me like that- ah-”

He’s just wrenching out the most dripping squelches with each rummaging pump into your melty cunt, your walls were just molding around his digits. Sucking him back in like you’re trying to milk out something delicious- fuck, how he wished this was his achy cock right now, instead.

Gojo’s biting down hard at that magical spot on your neck, sending shocks of electricity down your sluttily arched spine. “Can’t- hah- can’t take it anymore- shit- needa be inside you soon. Needa fill ya up soon.”

And he didn’t even have to tell you - you could feel it.

Building up and up with every relentless such of his glistening fingers. Glossy.

“Need to make you mine-” he’s gasping, heatedly. Tone cracking on almost a bawl, his hips are fucking into your hand like his little cocksleeve, up all the way from weepy head down to thwack into his pulsing base. Fingers bumping messily into his taut, twitchy balls - making Gojo’s mouth water. “Need to- hngh- need to make you cum! Please-”

Tears crinkling at the very ends of his doe eyes, after every single crash along your sweet spot. Thorough wet glides. “Please please please-”

And it’s whispered over and over like a mantra when you’re cumming - again and again, so hard that you didn’t even realize you’re reaching your high before your tight pussy clamps around his fingers.

“Yeah- yeah yeah, cum all over my fingers.” He’s thrusting his fingers in and out so rabidly, hitting all your forbidden spots. Free hand pushing apart your quivering thighs even further, “Spread wide- heheh, yeahhh–”

Those sudden slurps sounded so thunderous in your ears, and your maw sags open deliriously in a higher-pitched ah! ah! ah! Grinding your hips down over and over in needy swivels, using him. Music to his ears, making his staggering erection just weep so dangerously- but he can’t cum.

Won’t cum just yet.

Not until he’s fucked you through each and every one of your peaks, not until your convulses are tapering out into nothing but tiny tingles.

And then he’s dragging out his ruined fingers from your sodden cunt - out, out, out. Snapping delicate strings of the mess he’s made of your poor pussy, before pushing them through his lips rawly.

“M-mmm-” he’s rumbling from the very depths of his broad chest, pecs heaving. And through your half-lucid gaze, you’re spying a silvery dribble of drool down the side of his lips. Moaning at the sweet, sweet taste. “Shit- shit, sweetheart-”

You can’t even react before he’s then spitting a steady stream of wispy saliva down to your sloppy hole, swirling it around with one of his thumbs.

“Better let her know m’coming back for seconds later.”

You whine all brattily, your hips arching into the perfect buck upwards - which only makes him grin. “Heh- my greedy girl, if I waited one hundred years ya can wait a few seconds.”

It’s so admonishing - and Gojo has never told a bigger lie.

Because he’s the one that’s so painfully impatient right now, angry cock spewing out a few more velvety waves of precum down your gleaming palm. A low string of profanity rips from his throat, and he’s just diving his hands around every inch of your body he could reach.

Deftly untangling those tedious ties at the back, “Damn these little- forgot how many ribbons I fuckin’- ordered-”

In split-seconds, you’re being flipped over with one fluid push of Gojo’s biceps, sinking your front into the royally soft mattress. You felt like you were in heaven.

“Toru–” you’re whirling your head over your shoulder to admire just how much his biceps flex. Twitching with each eager rip down your bodice. Shaky fingers tightening on the silken sheets, “H-hurry up-”

“Easy there, my love.”

It’s ragged, breathed hotly against your ear, and suddenly Gojo’s resting every bit of his body weight on top of yours to pin you down helplessly onto the bed. Holding your squirming hips captive onto one rough hand attached to them, “Arch jus’ a bite more- please- fuuuck like that yeah-”

He’s taking the opportunity to fling your wedding dress down easily, bunching it somewhere towards the corner of the bedroom - right alongside your bra and inner layers.

You’re gasping - stunned.

“Don’t l-look at me like that, I’ve had one hundred hah- years to practice this exact moment with my hand n’ imagination-”

And then Gojo’s gasping, he’s snapping his eyes open, he’s heaving out the most whiny call of your name when you push your hips back in a wet slide against his painfully hard cock.

Your folds smacking wetly against his shaft, dragging in a dripping trail along his veins - and shit, Gojo really underestimated how fucking hot you’d feel against his cock. How readily awaiting when his slender hips rut down in a furious push and pull. “This is long overdue.”

“Hey!” you jut your spit-sheen lower lip out when he’s rudely smacking away your hand from the clasp of your locket. “Wha’s that for?”

“Keep it on.” Gojo nips at your earlobe.

And then he’s spitting you open - he’s pushing in.

Inch by fucking inch of his swelteringly hot cock being shovelled into your gooey cunt, stretching out your snug walls to their limits. Pulled taut. Barely giving an apologetic kiss to the side of your head before Gojo’s circling one big beefy arm around your hips, easily tilting your entire body upwards for him to surge his hips even deeper.

He gasps, he shudders at the faintest of your wet clenches. “C’mon-c’mon c’mon c’mon- a-ah- you can take it please- please take it f’me.”

How could you not?

Because every one of his tiny, shallow grinds just to fit in have your mouth dropping further and further open cockdrunkenly.

“Please-” your hands fist at the plushy pillows, the headboards, craning behind at Gojo’s neck. “Fuck me h-harder, Toru- I can-”

“Ohhh- you play a hah- dangerous game.” He swipes away the stray hairs on your forehead, kissing at your sweat-slicked forehead. “My beautiful bride- my beautiful, beautiful bride - ah- almost makes me wanna m-make you more.”

Just that split-second of sultry shock is enough for Gojo to push in fully - all the way until your thighs sting with the sudden thwack! of his hefty, cum-filled balls, your folds kissing up against his thickened base.

He’s hissing when his achy, rounded tip recoils ever-so-slightly against the spongy mess of your cervix, hitting it relentlessly in harsh jackhammer. Spearheading his fat cock to massage up against all your sensitive spots in a more dizzying way than even his fingers could.

“Wh-what do you m-mean-” They’re falling from your mouth as hastily as Gojo can pump you stuffed full of his cock. Not even easing into it, starting up a sloppy cadence. “-b-by–”

“Awww, don’ hngh- p-push yourself, my love–” he’s simpering out. But oh his hips were speaking a completely different language from how soothing your husband’s tone was, one hand curling deftly around your throat to reel you in even harsher in sudden swats against his ever-pushing hips. Twirling around the chain of your locket, “What I mean is…”

Both of your half-lidded gazes are downturned to where he feels for that tiny nudge at about halfway down your stomach. Drawing an imaginary line about halfway through, before splaying down all five digits. Hard. “-that m’gonna make ya a pretty momma as well as my pretty wife.”

This little confession is followed by a particularly hard slam! from Gojo’s end, and you dart your hand out to grasp desperately onto the wooden headboard.

Crying out, “Is- is that even possible, Toru?”

But the only actual response that Gojo can give - that he thinks himself capable of giving right now, with how mind-numbingly your pretty pussy was milking any rationality out of him - is a breathless chuckle. His head throwing back with a whimper, brows knitting together. “I don’t know hah! Haven’t got a fuckin’ clue- but that doesn’t mean m’not gonna fucking try–”

And he was fucking you into the mattress just like it, well and fully intent on breeding your tight cunt. Jostling the locket at your chest with rough, reckless abandon. Every sodden drag down your slobbery walls having those dreams from a lifetime ago about your happily every after playing through his mind.

You, with your drooling pussy painted all white with his potent cum, making such a mess of him that he just has to do it all over again, of course.

You, all round and glowing - full of him, his heir.

You, looking up at him with those gorgeous eyes - another, tinier set held delicately in your hands. His hair, and your smile. Everything that he’s ever wanted in life and death.

Stupidly. Pussydrunkenly.

“Oh oh-” Gojo’s groaning, the sudden bump of your fingers against the sensitive curve of his balls making him jolt back into his reality. His heavenly, heavenly reality. “Aww, have I b-been neglecting you, my love?”

No, you want to scream - but you can’t.

Because he’s only hiking up a powerful thigh to pressurize his harrowing rams with even more power, and you could feel every flex and ripple of his washboard abs. The spatter of pearlescent beads of sweat setting in with fatigue.

But Gojo wouldn’t listen in the first place, couldn’t even think of anything that didn’t stem from his achy cock pummeling into you.

Messily, he’s swiping at those fingers of yours that were currently reaching for your angrily puffy clit, aching for more more more-

Giving a mean little smack onto where your sensitive nub was drenched in all your sweetened juices, it sends bolts of electricity all over your body. Clinging your gummy walls around his girth so tight.

“This what y-you wanted?” he rasps by your ear, drawing slow, determined circles on the very peak of your clit. And when that doesn’t have you crying out all prettily for him the way he wanted - Gojo just tugs. Unapologetically. “Tell me- ngh- tell me how it feels, fuck- can feel this cunt gettin’ so soaked-”

“Yes-” you’re sobbing out. Hips now aching with the burn of pushing back into his unrelenting hips - it hurts almost. The sting of his skin against you, the hard collision of his fat head against your cervix. But you want more. “Y-yes feels so good, Toru- need more hngh- need you t-to…”

“What?” he’s spitting. Wild. “Tell me, sweetheart- please- please-”

And, hell, Gojo Satoru wanted to hear so badly that he’s just slowing his hips down every so slightly to let you catch your breath. To answer.

But what he was actually blessed with was another one of your long, drawn-out whines. Grumbling ever-so-slightly as you jolt your hips back with every one of the thorough swivels of his fingers on your clit. Toying.

Fucking back harder than ever into his rock-hard dick, the locket just slams it’s cool branding onto the heated skin of your chest-

“Need you to f-fill me up-” you mutter wetly, nothing more than a few gurgles wrenched out when his clashing head French-kisses your g-spot. Drawing wet glides of his steamy precum down it. “-make me a hngh- m-momma, Toru-”

Oh, this might just be his third death ever.

Because the bed creaks riotously with every one of his ragged rams, in a way that made you glad for the ever-present music of this town.

Over and over.

“Yeah- shit, gonna make you a p-pretty momma-” he’s babbling away, a mile a minute. So sloppy that you’re barely able to understand what Gojo was saying. “Fill you- up- ngh- so they’ll look at you and see me. All me- all pretty and r-round- me me me- oh—”

Right now, Gojo didn’t give a fuck if his little dream was even possible. He didn’t give a fuck if his moans were turning into whimper, staggering thrusts trudging into the sloppiest of grinds. The neediest.

Because right now you were cumming.

That rapid throb of your clit increasing twofold when you’re finally plummeting into your high, wave after wave of pleasure that he fucks you through with heavy pound after pound.

Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, toes curling, flashes of white flitting behind your firmly shut eyes. Fuck, it felt so good.

And your fingers clench hard around where they were still firmly stationed on the headboard to keep at least an ounce of your sanity. Intertwining with- Gojo’s when he slams his hand down hard enough that the entire bed shudders.

Or maybe that was just him - because so was he.

“F-finally-” Gojo’s hiccuping, angling his head just right to be able to catch your pretty lips in what could barely be considered a kiss. Just a sloppy suck of your tongue while he pumps you snugly full of sloshing loads of his cum. “Wan’ed this for- so long- finally hngh- consummate- you- most beautiful ah momma-”

His whines were nonsensical at this point, only growing more and more so with each velvety ribbon of cum being poured around into your tight pussy. You could feel it swashing about your soft walls with every one of your hard, convulsing clenches, painting your insides over and over again in a second, sticky skin of his seed.

“Yeah- fuck fuck fuck, yeah Toru- hah- m-more-”

And just when Gojo thought the almost-painful clenches of his heavy balls were coming to a close, just when he thought his thick streams of voluminous cum were stretching out into thinner wisps - you have to go and say those syrupy sweet words.

Fuck.

He’s gasping, locking his finger with yours even harder on the headboard, “Gonna- ngh- gonna be the death of me I s-swear–”

Oh, and then you looked at him with that fucked-out smile of yours. A sight he’s gifted to see. Humming, “In life and in death, r-remember?”

Bang!

The headboard crashes down onto the floor. Your back is hitting the now utterly drenched sheet below you before the realization hits you.

In nothing but a split-second, Gojo pulls out his dangerously twitching cock to manhandle you flatly onto your back. Swiftly, he throws your legs over the curvaceous deltoids of his sculpted shoulder, easily bending you down, down, down into half.

Into the meanest mating press possible.

Dredges of thick, hot cum just ooze down your sopping slit, spreading in a milky circle underneath you. And slobbering down Gojo’s swollen hilt as soon as he plugs himself back in - immediately.

The very divot at the end of his cock quivering - for only a split-second before bursting out in streams of more and more cum. Overflowing. Overspilling out of you.

And he can’t help but glide an open palm over that tiny inflation beginning to form where he’d drawn a line just earlier. One hand pressing down on it hard, the other tweaking at your clit to make your walls clench.

“Oh f-fuck yeah–” Gojo stutters at the glossy coating of his own seed all around him. Reveling in the toasty feeling again and again until his poor, overworked cock can only sputter out wispy strings of nothing. Shooting blanks. “Gonna breed ya- make ya all round and and- ngh full until you c-can’t take anymore. Until we hahh- have that happy ending y-you wanted.”

You mewl when he’s licking away those glistening tears rolling down your cheeks, “-happy ending w-we wanted hngh- Toru–”

“Yeah-” he chuckles. Pecking at your lips with that salty sweet taste on his tongue, “We wanted. It’s why I didn’t reincarnate like you, my love, unfinished hngh- business here s’to spend a long, long and happy marriage with you, y’know?”

You bat your lashes in sweet disbelief, “That’s- that’s mine, too.”

Ah, he reels you in even closer into his arms. Snug. Ever-loving. Seemingly like he’d never let you go ever again - couldn’t bear to.

He nuzzles against that now-open locket, eyes peering down at those bleary paintings of you two, as loving as if they were taken just today. And in the back of his fried mind, he makes a note to take newer photos for later. Fingers tracing their familiar pathway to press down on the outer edges of the metal - in only the way he knew how, in the way that you should have been taught all those years ago, but was never able to.

“Then-” His eyes light up as they always did whenever it came to you, when the tiny mechanisms on the locket open up to reveal a delicate, gorgeous ring. Strangely matching his own. Gojo doesn’t think he’s done anything easier in his life when he slides that ring onto your finger, fitting so perfectly. Not even when he was waiting for you, not even when he’d taken care of Naoya in a way that left his coat spattered and stained with red. “-we’re both lucky.”

It’s only after a few soft, lingering kisses that Gojo finally pulls away - like it hurt to.

And it did, sensitive shockwaves erupting down his overwhelmed length. But none of that shows above his drunken grin when Gojo’s shuffling down the bed, all the way until his hot breath was puffing up feverishly against your sloppy cunt.

Messy. Drooling.

Making such an utter mess on his tongue when he lets it loll out, swiping up the gushing creamy dredges with a long lick. It was so filthy, dribbling down the sides of his mouth, onto his pinkish tongue-

Just a tease for more.

“Because I keep my promises, my wife.” his murmur wraps all around your thrumming clit. Tongue swirling a milky gloss all over his pert, raw lips. Only wanting more. Waiting. “In life and in death.”

A/N. THIS- THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE N’ GOT ME IN MY FEELSSSS. Hope y’all have a lovely lovely week <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #tonywrites

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bagofshinyrocks · 11 months ago

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Government name vs Military callsign

Prompt: What scares them worse? Addressing them by their full government name, or addressing them by their military callsign?

Featuring: Task Force 141 (CoD: MW2) - John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish (separately) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 0.9k

Warnings: none

John Price

Government name.

Calling him Captain or Skipper just ends with him sauntering to where ever you are and ask (in an obnoxiously self-satisfied voice) what you wanted. Like a cat pretending it can’t hear the urgency in your tone when you say to get off the counter.

“If you want me to ‘shake a leg’, call my name, luvie.”

Now if you holler “Jonathan Price”, he’ll drop something. Either the newspaper in his hands, or his heart into his stomach. He sure as hell moves his ass with a purpose, and he’s peering into the room with an apology on his lips.

“Yes, luv? What’s wrong, poppet?”

“Lift the other end of the couch, would you?”

He does, and you shimmy it further back in the room. “Anything else I can do, love o’ my life?” He’s hovering, and gently coaxing you into his arms. Gauging how mad you were at him. You curled into him and kissed his chin. Then stepped away with a pat to his chest.

“No, sweetheart, just wanted you to shake a leg is all.”

When he remembers your previous conversation, he groans and tells you to fuck off.

Simon Riley

Military callsign.

When you two are alone, and he’s already given you permission to call him Simon, don’t call him Ghost. When you say that word, he assumes one of his mates are at the door or on the phone, and goes from Simon to Ghost. Stalks into the room with narrowed eyes, only to find you in the kitchen. By yourself.

“Ghost, you want a sandwich too? Turkey and cheese.”

“Fuck you callin’ me that for?”

Once he sees you’re alone, he swoops in and wraps around you like a hoodie. A firm kiss to your ear, then your cheek, then spun you around. Back pressed to the counter top. Settles his face right close to yours.

“We playin’ games now?” You didn’t want to upset him, so you pressed a kiss to his nose. His grumpy look faded a bit.

“Sorry, baby.” Arms wrapped carefully around his shoulders. And your fingers scratch his scalp. Another kiss to his nose. “I’m sorry for playing games with you. Simon Riley.”

Hearing his name on your lips finally cracked, and he gave you a smile. A little scar on the upper lip. You gave it a kiss, and then pressed a kiss to his lips.

A quick surge forward, and you only just had time to shove aside the things behind you before you found yourself on the countertop.

Kyle Garrick

Government name.

He doesn’t mind being called Gaz, and you’ll use Kyle and Gaz interchangeably. Doesn’t even mind if you use “Kyle” or “honey” in front of his squadmates. Though “Kylie” he does have some displeasure with.

“I’ll have you know, Soap is still calling me Kylie, you asshole.”

Call him ‘Garrick’, and he knows that you are pretending to be mad at him. He slinks over and rubs his face against your cheek. He’s too cute for you to stay mad.

If you shout “Kyle Garrick”, he comes running. He could have sworn that he put his clothes in the hamper. And did the dishes. And taken out the recycling. Damn, what was it that he forgot?

“Kyle Ga-”

“Yes, dear!” Shit, he didn’t mean to ‘yes, dear’ you. “Yes, my dear, I’m right here.”

You pause your laundry folding and summon him with a crook of your finger. Once he’s close enough, you tap your lip with the same finger. “I need a kiss.”

He blinked once. Then twice. “God damn you.” He squishes your face in his hands and gave you a quick, firm kiss. “Don’t stress me out like that. Thought you were mad.”

“Give me another kiss, or I will be.”

He rapid fire kissed your mouth, chin, and cheeks, then gave you a smack on the ass before returning to the living room.

“In my own fucking home,” he muttered.

John MacTavish

Military callsign.

He’s got some thick skin. And he’s had his name shouted angrily many a time. He would all but skip into the room with a big smile on his face. The only people who shouted that name (and wore out the scare-factor on it) were his family members. Shouting “John MacTavish” meant you loved him. You were also mad at him, but you loved him. That was more important. Even with your scowl and the gross pile of garbage he kept forgetting to take out. You loved him.

Now shouting his callsign reminded him of his superior officers.

“SOAP!”

Shit shit shit. He put down his beer and ran from the garage to the backyard. Leg brace over his sweats, low cut muscle shirt that you also wolf-whistle at when he wears. You were only weeding the garden boxes.

“JOHNNY!”

“I’m here, bonnie,” he hollered, rounding the corner. You were sitting in the dirt, a tidy pile of weeds and dead plant bits next to you.

“C’mere, c’mere.”

He leaned down next to you, hand on your shoulder and good knee on the ground. “Wassit?”

You pointed to the leaf in your hand. “A caterpillar, Johnny. An itsy-bitsy caterpillar.”

He sighed heavily and kissed your shoulder. “Bonnie, I thought something was wrong.”

“Hm?” You spared him a glance. “What are you talking about, bubba?”

“You called me Soap.”

“Did I? Didn’t mean to spook you, loverboy.” You gave him an apologetic kiss on the lips. “Just wanted you to see the caterpillar before he wiggled off.”

Posted: 2023 Dec 10

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getoslamb · 27 days ago

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Kinktober Day 11 - Virginity Loss with Kento Nanami

contains: nsfw content: (mdni), fempov, pnv (protected), loss of virginity, oral (reader receiving), fingering, age gap (legal - reader is college age), soft nanami

˚₊‧ for more kinktober here - wc: 10k (bear with me here, it’s slow)

a/n: i apologise in advance for how soft this is, it is sickeningly sweet and a heads up, the writing style of this is a little different to some of the prior ones i've posted here...it's less horny smut in the way its written and more wordy? so if this one's not for you, it's all good, sometimes i just like to mix it up <333

The cool October air nipped at your bare skin as you stood out front of the crowded house, your angel wings from your costume rustling softly in the breeze. The party was fun, but it was getting late, and getting home was an issue.

The problem was, you couldn't call your dad. He'd have too many questions, too many concerns about why you were out so late. Besides, the revealing nature of your outfit wouldn't have gone unnoticed, and you weren't in the mood to listen to a lecture.

Your phone hovered in your hand, a name already highlighted. Nanami Kento. Your dad's best friend, a reliable, quiet man you'd known for a couple years. He was the safest option honestly and maybe a part of you was pleased with the notion of calling him, of seeing him after the night's festivities. There had always been something about the way Nanami carried himself-so composed, so controlled, it left you curious.

You took one deep breath before pressing the call button. It rang only twice before his smooth steady voice came through the line. "Are you alright?" he asked instantly, as though he'd sensed something was wrong, just from seeing your number at this time.

"I'm fine," you quickly assured him. "It's just. I'm at a party, and it's gotten late. I need a ride, and I really can't call my dad soo….”

There was a moment of silence, stretching the pause to its limits as he finally replied. "Text me the address. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

Waiting around for fifteen minutes in the cold had your mind racing. All you could do was hope he wouldn't say too much about your outfit, a white dress a little too short, with wings fastened to your back and a halo precariously balanced on your head. It had drawn enough attention at the party already, though you'd shrugged it off with nervous laughter. Nanami was an altogether different story, though, and the thought of him looking at you like this made you feel nervous.

Sure enough, in exactly fifteen minutes, Nanami's black car pulled up in front of the house. You quickly headed towards it, heels clicking across the pavement. As soon as you opened the passenger door and slid inside, his eyes raked over you.

"Thanks for picking me up," you said softly, trying not to meet his gaze as you buckled yourself in.

But Nanami's silence was heavy, and you could almost feel the weight of his stare. He didn't say anything right away, eyes staying fixed on your outfit-the dress riding high on your thighs, the soft glow of your wings innocent. His jaw tightened slightly, a barely perceptible movement, but you noticed it.

"Of course," he finally replied, his voice gruffer than usual, with an edge to it. "But that's quite the costume."

You felt shy under his gaze, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. "It's just a Halloween costume. You know, harmless fun."

"Harmless fun," he repeated, his eyes darting back to the road as he shifted the car into drive. But the way he said it-twisted something in your stomach, a tension building between you impossible to ignore.

Nanami didn't look away from the road, but his thoughts were far from innocent. He knew he shouldn't be looking at you like this, his best friend's daughter, in a dress that didn't leave much to his imagination. Yet, there was something outright magnetic in the way you looked tonight-the way soft fabric clung to your body, pure white of an angel costume contrasting sharply with the rising inferno inside him.

He gripped the wheel a little harder, his knuckles white. What was wrong with him? You were innocent, too young for him- but the way you moved, the way you shifted in your seat as if aware of how you were making him feel, it stirred something primal in him.

"Did you have fun?" he asked way too calmly, trying to distract himself.

You nodded. "Yeah, it was good. Just got too late, and well, you know."

He couldn’t stop his eyes from trailing along the smooth skin of your legs and then up to your face, lit up in a soft glow from the passing streetlights. He tried to keep a clear head, act like he wasn’t losing his mind over being this close in proximity to you. It didn't help that the scent of your perfume lingered in the air between you, sweet and inviting.

"Your dad doesn't know you're dressed like this," he said-half a question, half a statement of fact.

You shook your head. "No… he wouldn't exactly approve." There was a little, nervous laugh in your voice.

Nanami grunted in response. "He wouldn't."

The tension between you both grew thicker, heavy with unspoken emotion until it was almost palpable in the cramped interior of the car. Nanami couldn't clear his head. What would your father think if he knew how hard it was for Nanami to keep his thoughts pure? How hard it was to pretend the sight of you, in that tight little dress, hadn't set something off inside him?

You shifted in your seat again, the hem of your dress rose just a little higher on your thighs to catch Nanami's attention yet again as he had to adjust in his seat.

The car hummed on silently, but it was obvious that he was trying to keep his cool, trying to ignore the pull between you both, and for some reason, you decided not to make it easy for him.

You shifted a bit in your seat, letting your legs cross; the hem of your skirt inched up just a bit more. You caught the slightest tensing of Nanami's jaw out of the corner of your eye, though he kept his gaze firmly trained on the road.

You bit your lip to suppress a smile. "You know," you said softly, a teasing edge creeping into your tone, "I've never seen you this quiet. You always seem so assured."

Nanami's brow furrowed and he let out a short breath. "It's late," he replied; the words were clipped, strained as if he wanted to force the conversation into something normal.

You weren't buying it. His body language betrayed him-tension in the posture of his body spoke volumes his words never did. You knew with just a little more prodding-a test of the waters-he'd crack.

You lifted a casual hand to your head to adjust your halo headband, your fingers delving through your hair to do so, before you laid your hand on your thigh, letting the fingers linger as you shifted again, angling yourself slightly toward him.

"Thanks for picking me up," you said, your voice soft and laced with something a little too sweet, a little too insinuating. "I guess I could've called someone else, but… I wanted you to be the one."

Nanami's hold on the wheel stiffened further, and you could almost hear the battle raging inside him. His eyes flickered sideways to you, only for a moment, before snapping back to the road.

“Really?" he growled, almost inaudible, the tone low, a little threatening.

You nodded, biting your lip as you leaned closer, your hand lightly brushing his arm as you adjusted once more. "Yeah… I feel safe with you.”

There it was, the first gap in his well-considered armour. He said nothing for a moment. It was as if every unspoken word weighed the air inside the car down and pressed on both of you with its unspoken weight.

Then, wordlessly, instead of turning down the street that would lead to your house, he turned left and went in the opposite direction. You blinked once or twice, peering out of the window just to confirm that he wasn't actually getting onto your usual route.

"Um. my house is the other way," you said light, though curious.

Nanami remained silent for another beat as the car sped through the quiet, dimly lit streets. Then, finally, he spoke, his voice rougher than before.

"I know."

Your heart skipped a beat, and a shiver ran down your spine at the implication: He knew. He knew exactly what he was doing. And instead of taking you home, he was detouring off course on purpose. A decision he had made despite the battle that had raged in his brain.

"Where are we going?" you asked, though the answer was just starting to formulate in your mind.

"My place." Nanami replied in a low voice, very nearly too calm.

Of course his words only had one meaning, and you paused for a second, the situation settling into your consciousness. It wasn't a decision he had only just now considered. He had thought about this, about you—and the barrier he'd held up for so long was starting to crack.

A part of you knew this might have crossed the line, a line neither of you could come back from. In the silence of the car, though, that pull between you became impossible to ignore.

You swallowed as your heart raced in your chest, shifting slightly in your seat as his words sank in. "Your place… are you sure?"

Nanami's grip on the steering wheel loosened, but only for a moment as he let a slow, conscious breath escape. He cast a look in your direction then, something dark in his gaze-a warning, and yet, something deeper, something feral. "No," he admitted in a low voice with a trace of growl. "But I'm doing it anyway."

His place. He was taking you there, and implications that sent your tummy fluttering into somersaults of excitement and uncertainty when he said so. There was no going back once you crossed this threshold.

The time quickly passed and it wasn’t long before the soft hum of the engine stopped, and all that could be heard was your quickened breathing.

Nanami turned to you; his eyes locked with yours. In them was an unspoken question. He wasn't forcing you; this was something you had to step into on your own volition.

You nodded at him and he nodded slightly in return before moving to open the car door for you. His hand was soft and warm in yours as he guided you out. He took you inside and towards the lift. The silence between you was evident, but not uncomfortable. It was charged, alive with possibilities neither of you could deny any more.

As the lift opened onto his floor, Nanami escorted you down the silent hall to his apartment. His steps were sure, steady, but you could feel the tension emanating off of him like a coiled spring ready to snap. He hastily unlocked the door before gesturing you inside.

You stepped inside and the door clicked shut behind you, sealing the two of you into the quiet, dimly lit space. Nanami's apartment was sleek, minimalist, much like the man himself-clean lines, understated elegance. It was intimate, private, and the thought of being alone with him here made your skin tingle.

You turned toward him, soft light from the city filtering in through the windows and casting shadows across his face. He watched you once more, his eyes dark and intense. A silent war inside himself as he struggled to keep his restraint.

"You can still change your mind," he said, low and rough. "Sleep in the spare bedroom- and I won't push this any further."

Your eyes ran across his face, before meeting his gaze. Hal of you screamed to close the distance between the two of you, whilst the other half screamed to sleep in the spare bedroom and never look back on this moment.

But this wasn't about lust or desire; this was crossing a line, changing the dynamic between you both forever, but one you were ready to.

You leaned in towards him, your fingers brushing lightly against his chest. You took note of the quick rise and fall of his chest and the fast beating of his heart under your fingertips. His eyes darkened, his control slipping just that little bit more as he watched you.

"I'm not changing my mind," you whispered softly, resolutely. "I want this."

Nanami exhaled sharply, the last thread of restraint snapping as he closed the remaining distance between you. His hand cupped your cheek, his touch just as gentle as you’d expected.

For a moment, he just looked at you, his thumb brushing lightly across your skin, as if giving you one final chance to pull away.

But you didn’t.

With a low growl, Nanami's lips finally crashed into yours. He kissed you passionately as if he had been holding back far too long. His hand slid around the back of your neck, pulling you closer, as he pressed your body flush against his, trying to get as physically close to you as possible.

The kiss deepened, and all the tension and desire that had built between you finally exploded in a rush of heat and sensation. You responded in kind, your fingers tangling in his hair as you succumbed to the moment, to him.

One of his hands had clutched your waist as he leaned you up against the wall, his tongue seeking entrance to your mouth. It was quickly heating up; everything was going so fast. And though you'd expected it, you suddenly became nervous, not knowing what to do, so you couldn't help but blurt out…

“I’m a virgin-”

Nanami froze when you uttered those words, the revelation hanging in the air like a weight that neither of you could ignore. His lips lingered on yours, but the urgency that had driven his actions moments before seemed to vanish, replaced by a sudden stillness. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression torn, conflicted. You could feel the way his chest rose and fell unevenly, the tension coiling tighter inside him.

He should stop. He knows that.

"You're a virgin," he repeated softly, as if trying to ground himself in the reality of the situation. The responsibility of what this meant sank in, his protective instincts roaring louder than his desire. The weight of his role in your life—being your father's best friend, older, more experienced—should have been enough to make him back away, to put distance between you for your own good.

But it didn’t.

Despite everything, despite knowing he should be the responsible one and walk away, the pull he felt toward you was undeniable. His thumb gently traced the outline of your jaw, the conflict clear in his eyes as they searched yours. There was something about you—your trust, your innocence—that stirred something deep inside him, something he couldn’t easily shake off.

"I shouldn't.," he growled low and hoarse, yet with an edge, a residual hunger he could not hide. He closed his eyes for a moment and exhaled sharply as if trying to draw himself back in.

But when he opened them again, his gaze darkened, the tension between you flaring back to life. You saw the conflict, the war between what he knew was right and what he wanted more than anything in that moment.

"I-” Nanami continued, his hands moving to cradle your face, his touch still gentle despite the storm raging within him. "This changes everything."

You could feel the restraint, the repression, but you could also feel the resolve slipping. He was a man who prided himself on control, on doing the right thing-but right now, you were making him question all of that.

"I know it does," you whispered, stepping closer, your body brushing against his in a way that made his breath hitch. "But I trust you. I want this… I want you."

Your words seemed to cut through to him, and for a long moment, the air between you crackled with something electric, something neither of you could deny any longer.

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm against your lips. "If we do this," he said quietly, his voice low, serious, "There’s no going back. I need you to be sure. This is… not something I can take lightly."

His thumb brushed against your cheek, his eyes searching yours one last time, giving you the opportunity to pull away. But you didn’t. You met his gaze, your hand resting over his heart, feeling its rapid thrum beneath your palm.

"I'm sure," you whispered, your voice steady, filled with the weight of the decision you had already made.

The last bit of tension left Nanami’s shoulders as he closed the distance between you again, his lips finding yours with a renewed intensity. But this time, his kiss was slower, more deliberate, as if savouring every moment, every taste of you. His hands slid down your back, pulling you closer, but there was no rush, no urgency. He was letting you lead, letting you set the pace.

As his hands moved over your body, exploring with careful restraint, it was clear he was holding back. Despite the fire between you, despite the overwhelming desire, he was still thinking of you, still making sure you felt safe, cherished, in this moment.

Nanami’s heart raced as he led you to his bedroom, the very act feeling surreal. Every step was imbued with a sense of gravity, as though the weight of the moment hung in the air around you, thickening with anticipation and vulnerability. He was acutely aware of the fabric of your outfit, how it hugged your curves and accentuated your delicate features, your halo headband adding to the angelic aura that surrounded you. It was intoxicating, and he felt the primal urge to claim you, to make you his.

The room was dimly lit, shadows dancing against the walls as the city lights filtered in through the curtains. Nanami could hardly breathe as he turned to face you, taking in the sight of you standing there—innocent yet undeniably alluring, a vision that pulled at the very edges of his sanity. You looked like something out of a dream, and he felt a surge of possessiveness wash over him.

"I shouldn't be doing this," he muttered, his voice thick with desire. The conflict within him raged on, and yet, as he looked at you—his angel—he couldn't shake the selfish longing that consumed him. Despite knowing he didn’t deserve to indulge in this, he found himself wanting you more than anything else in that moment.

As you stood there, your gaze unwavering, your confidence shining through your innocence, it was clear you were ready to embrace whatever was to come. Nanami took a deep breath, pushing the guilt aside. He didn’t want to be the one to hold back your desires. Not when you were offering him a chance to explore this connection.

"You’re so beautiful," he breathed, stepping closer, his hands reaching out to frame your face. He hesitated for a moment, his thumb brushing over your cheek as if committing the moment to memory. The softness of your skin beneath his touch sent a jolt of electricity through him.

"Breathtaking," he whispered again, almost reverently. The weight of those words held true as he leaned in closer, his lips barely brushing against yours. The hesitation melted away, and he captured your mouth with his again, deepening the kiss with a fervour that spoke of his hunger, of his desire to claim you in every way possible.

His hands roamed over your waist, trailing down to your hips, fingers digging in slightly as he pulled you closer. There was a desperation in his touch now, a need to feel every inch of you pressed against him. He wanted to memorise the way you felt, the way your body fit perfectly against his, like you were made for him.

When he pulled away just enough to look into your eyes, there was a fire in his gaze that reflected the storm within him. "Are you sure?" he asked again, his voice a low rumble, though he knew what your answer would be. Deep down, he wanted to hear it, wanted the reassurance that you were truly ready to take this step with him.

“I’ve never been more sure,” you replied, your voice steady, filled with a confidence that both excited and terrified him.

With that, Nanami leaned in again, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, pouring every ounce of his longing into it. It was both gentle and consuming, a collision of desire and tenderness that left you breathless. The world outside faded away as he lost himself in the sensation of you—the taste of your lips, the warmth of your body pressed against his, the way your hands tangled in his hair, urging him on.

As he guided you back onto the bed, he felt the weight of his own insecurities creep back in. He was an older man, your father’s best friend, someone who was supposed to protect you, not take advantage of your trust. But looking at you, lost in the moment, an angel who was willing to give herself to him, he couldn’t bring himself to stop. This was a gift, a chance to experience something beautiful with you, and he would be damned if he let that go.

There was a sense of awe in him as he looked at you, your innocence and trust in him making him feel both powerful and vulnerable. This was different from anything he had ever experienced before, and it left him unsure of how to proceed.

He leaned over you, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek, his touch tender and gentle. "I promise to take care of you," he whispered, his voice low and filled with the sincerity of his intent.

You smiled up at him, your trust in him shining through your eyes. "I know," you replied, your voice soft and confident.

Nanami's breath hitched as he took in the sight of you lying beneath him, the white dress clinging to you. The fabric seemed to glow in the dim light of the room, accentuating your delicate features and the innocence that radiated from you. His heart swelled with a mix of desire and reverence, knowing that he was about to experience something truly special.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your neck, trailing soft kisses along your jawline, down to your collarbone. The taste of your skin, the subtle scent of your perfume, it all combined to create a heady sensation that made his head spin.

His hands roamed over your body, caressing you through the thin fabric of your dress, mapping out the contours of your figure. He could feel the heat of your skin beneath his touch, and it only served to fuel the fire burning within him.

"You're perfect," he murmured against your skin, his voice husky with desire. "An angel, sent just for me."

You shivered at his touch, your body arching into his as you sought more of his attention. Your hands moved to his shirt, fumbling with the buttons, desperate to feel his skin against yours.

Nanami chuckled softly, his breath warm against your neck. "Patience, sweetheart. Let me savour this moment."

He helped you with his shirt, shrugging it off and tossing it aside, revealing his toned chest and abs. The sight of his muscular form and you couldn't help but run your hands over his skin, marvelling at the way his muscles flexed beneath your touch.

Nanami groaned at your exploration, his hips pressing against yours, the evidence of his desire evident in the way his erection strained against his pants, pressing deliciously against your thigh. He captured your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, claiming you, tasting you.

His hands roamed over your body, caressing you. He resumed his kisses along your skin, his teeth grazing you skin ever so slightly. The sensation sent shivers down your spine, your body arching into his touch, craving more.

"I want to worship every inch of you." he murmured against your skin, his voice husky with desire.

His hands slid down to your thighs, bunching up the skirt of your dress, exposing more of your smooth skin. He took his time, savouring the feel of you, the way your body responded to his touch.

You could feel the heat of his gaze on you, the intensity of his desire, and it only served to fuel your own. Your hands roamed over his chest, feeling the hard planes of his muscles, the way his heart raced beneath your touch.

Nanami's lips found yours again, his kiss deep and passionate, pouring all of his longing into it. He rolled his hips against yours, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

"I want you," he breathed, his voice raw with need. "I want to make you mine, to claim you in every way possible."

He tugged at the fabric of your dress, his intentions clear, but something held him back. The thought of ruining the delicate garment, of marring your innocence, seemed sacrilegious.

Instead, he let his hands roam beneath it, his fingers teasing along your inner thighs, higher and higher, until he reached your panties. He could feel the heat from you, the dampness that betrayed your desire.

"Tell me you want this," he whispered, his fingers already circling your most clit through the cotton fabric. "Tell me you're ready for me."

Nanami's fingers continued to tease and explore, his touch both gentle and insistent. You could feel the pressure building within you, your body responding to his every caress, every brush of his lips against your skin. The heat between you was palpable, the air thick with the scent of your combined desire.

"I want this," you gasped, your voice trembling with need. "I want you, Nanami- Please, don't make me wait any longer."

His eyes darkened with hunger at your words, and he wasted no time in responding. He hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties, slowly dragging them down your legs, exposing you to his hungry gaze.

"You're perfect," he murmured, his fingers tracing the delicate folds, feeling the slickness that coated your skin. "So wet, so ready for me."

He leaned down, his breath hot against your skin, his lips brushing against your inner thigh. Slowly, teasingly, he trailed kisses up your leg, his stubble rasping against your sensitive skin, sending shivers of pleasure through your body. He couldn’t help but grin at every slight shuffle from you as he moved closer to your pussy, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy your shyness.

When he finally reached your core, he inhaled deeply, savouring the scent of your arousal. He looked up at you, his eyes locked with yours, before he leaned in and ran his tongue along your folds, tasting you for the first time.

You gasped at the sensation, your hips bucking involuntarily against his mouth. Nanami groaned in response, his hands gripping your thighs, holding you in place as he continued his exploration.

He lapped at your clit, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub, before dipping lower to your entrance, tasting your essence. He alternated between licking and sucking, his movements slow and deliberate, building the tension within you with each pass of his tongue. “So fucking sweet-” he groaned.

Nanami's tongue continued its relentless assault on your most sensitive areas, licking and sucking, driving you closer to the edge with each pass. As your pleasure mounted, he slowly eased a finger into your tight heat, his touch gentle and patient.

Your hands fisted in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him on. The pleasure was intense, building with each passing second, threatening to consume you entirely.

He worked you slowly, his finger pumping in and out, curling to hit that spot deep inside that made your toes curl. The sensation of his tongue and finger combined was almost too much to bear, and you could feel your walls beginning to flutter around him. “Such a good girl.”

He added a second finger, stretching you further, his pace increasing as he sensed your impending release. His fingers moved in tandem with his tongue, one hand working your clit while the other drove into you, stoking the fire that burned within you.

Your moans filled the room, your body writhing beneath his touch, lost in the pleasure he was giving you. Nanami could feel your walls tightening around his fingers, your body tensing as you neared your peak. “Come on sweetheart, give it to me.”

As he felt your body tense beneath him, your thighs trembling, he knew you were close. He redoubled his efforts, his tongue flicking rapidly over your clit, his fingers pumping harder, deeper, determined to bring you to the heights of ecstasy. The world narrowed down to the sensation of his mouth and hands on your body, the pleasure consuming you entirely.

Nanami’s voice was soft but commanding. “That’s it,” he murmured, his words vibrating through you as he flicked his tongue against your clit. “Let go, my angel. Give yourself to me.”

With a final thrust of his fingers, your body gave in. Pleasure crashed over you in waves, your body trembling beneath him as you cried out his name, lost in the intensity of the moment. He stayed with you through every pulse of pleasure, his mouth working you gently as your climax washed over you, prolonging the sensation by sucking on your clit until you could no longer take it.

As you came down from your high, your breathing ragged, Nanami slowly withdrew his fingers, placing soft kisses along your thigh before sitting up. His gaze was filled with adoration as he watched you recover, his eyes trailing over your body with reverence. “You’re beautiful when you come undone,” he said softly, his voice full of awe. “I could worship you like this for hours.”

Nanami leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss, his hands cupping your face, thumbs brushing away the single tear that had escaped during your climax and he couldn’t stop his smirk, you were so sensitive and he’d barely even started. “Are you okay?” he whispered against your lips, his voice filled with care, “I want to make sure I don't push you too far.”

You nodded, overwhelmed with emotion, your heart swelling at the sincerity in his eyes. "I just want you, Nanami," you whispered, your voice filled with longing.

His gaze softened as he reached for his belt, slowly undoing the buckle, his movements deliberate. He paused, searching your eyes for any hesitation, any uncertainty. But all he found was the same desire reflected back at him.

He smiled softly, leaning over to the bedside table and going through the drawer before retrieving a condom and some lube, ready to continue, but ensuring your comfort every step of the way.

Nanami’s hands moved with care as he opened the condom, his gaze still focused intently on you, as if each moment was something to be cherished. His heart raced, not just with the heat of desire, but with the overwhelming tenderness he felt for you. He wanted everything to be perfect—gentle, yet powerful in its intimacy.

The tension in the room was palpable, but it wasn’t just sexual. It was the weight of trust, the sacred bond forming between you as he prepared for what was to come. You felt it too, that sense of something so deeply meaningful, and it made your pulse quicken.

With the condom securely in place, Nanami applied a generous amount of lube as he soaked in the sight of your body beneath him, your silk dress still bunched around your waist. His eyes were filled with a mixture of admiration and reverence as he leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a slow, deliberate kiss, full of love and passion.

“I need you to tell me if you’re okay, if anything feels wrong,” he whispered, his voice low but filled with concern. “Do you wanna’ be on top? It might be better for you.”

You felt a surge of warmth in your chest at Nanami’s question, his consideration only deepening the intimacy between you. His concern was genuine, and it made you feel cherished in a way you had never experienced before. The idea of being in control, of setting the pace, appealed to you, especially with the softness and care in his gaze.

You nodded, smiling up at him, the anticipation building in the pit of your stomach. “Yeah, I think I’d like that,” you replied softly, your voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside of you.

Nanami’s eyes softened even further, and he gave you a small, reassuring smile. With a gentle movement, he shifted positions, lying back on the bed, his strong arms helping you climb atop him. You straddled his hips, your hands resting on his chest for balance, feeling the heat of his body beneath your palms. The vulnerability of the moment didn’t make you feel exposed—it made you feel powerful, like you were in control, but still cradled in his unwavering support.

Nanami’s hands found your thighs, his fingers tracing soothing circles on your skin as he looked up at you with reverence. “Take your time,” he murmured, his voice deep and comforting. “There’s no rush.”

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself as you hovered just above his cock. You adjusted and the sensation of his hardness against your pussy sent a jolt of excitement through you, and you felt yourself growing even wetter, your body more than ready for him. Slowly, you lowered yourself onto him, the initial stretch making you gasp softly and you had to pause for a moment before taking a little more. Nanami’s grip on your thighs tightened just a fraction, his breath hitching in his throat as he felt you take him in, inch by inch.

You slowly took more of him in, feeling more of a stretch, a slight sting from a fullness that made your body tremble with a mixture of pleasure and anticipation. You could feel Nanami’s hands tightening their grip on your thighs, his silent encouragement pushing you forward, but never rushing you. His gaze was fixed on your face, filled with nothing but patience and reverence.

You glanced down, your eyes following the path of your own body as you straddled him, only to realise with a jolt that you weren’t fully there yet. A soft gasp escaped your lips as you noticed how much of him was still left to take. The realisation made your heart race, a mixture of awe and nervousness swirling inside you.

Nanami seemed to sense your hesitation, his hands moving from your thighs to your waist, steadying you. He lifted his head slightly, brushing a kiss against your collarbone, his warm breath soothing against your skin. “It’s okay,” he whispered, his voice gentle but reassuring. “You’re doing so well. Take your time. We don’t need to rush anything.”

His words grounded you, reminding you of the trust you shared, the connection that went beyond the physical. You let out a shaky breath, nodding as you slowly relaxed into him again, feeling his fingers gently massaging your waist. You could feel his restraint, the way his body tensed under yours, but he held back for you, waiting, letting you set the pace.

You lowered yourself further, feeling the stretch intensify, your body accommodating his size inch by inch. A soft whimper escaped your lips as you took him in completely, the fullness sending a wave of pleasure mixed with a slight sting through your core. You paused, breathless, your body adjusting to the sensation, the initial tightness making you shudder.

The feeling of fullness was overwhelming, but in the best way possible. A deep groan escaped Nanami’s lips, his hands now gripping your hips as he gazed up at you with pure desire, mixed with tenderness. You sat there for a moment, letting your body get used to the sensation, and Nanami’s hands continued their gentle, grounding movements on your skin.

His gaze was filled with concern and affection, watching your every reaction carefully, ensuring that you were okay. He let out a low groan, his chest rising and falling with deep, measured breaths as he fought to control his own desire, giving you the time you needed.

“Take all the time you need,” he murmured softly, his voice laced with restraint and tenderness. He leaned up slightly, brushing a gentle kiss against your temple, his lips lingering there, offering comfort and reassurance. “I’m here with you.”

You nodded, eyes closing as you focused on the feeling of him inside you, the stretch easing bit by bit as your body adjusted. The sting was still there, but it began to fade, replaced by a warm, overwhelming sense of connection. Your muscles relaxed, the tension in your body melting as you slowly started to get used to the fullness, the intimacy of the moment enveloping you like a protective cocoon.

Nanami’s thumbs brushed gentle circles over your hips, his voice a soothing balm. “You feel incredible,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear.

He was big, but the lube helped, and you allowed yourself to adjust comfortably. You could see the strain in his expression, the effort it took for him to hold back, to let you take the lead. It made you smile, knowing how much he wanted you but how much more he wanted to take care of you.

You began to move slowly, adjusting to the sensation of him inside you. With each shift of your hips, the initial tightness gave way to a deeper, more profound pleasure, but the fullness still made you pause every now and then, needing time to take it all in. Nanami’s hands caressed your skin, his touch comforting and grounding, encouraging you to move at your own pace.

As you lifted yourself up slightly, you felt a slight bit of discomfort that reminded you of the tenderness of the moment. Glancing down, you noticed a small spot of blood where your bodies met. Your breath hitched for a second, a wave of nervousness flickering through you, you weren’t worried, it was your first time, after all. Still, the sight made your heart race, if only for a brief moment.

Before you could say anything, Nanami’s hand moved to cup your cheek, his eyes soft and filled with concern. He had noticed your gaze and the subtle change in your expression. “Hey,” he whispered, his thumb brushing your cheek in slow, soothing circles. “It’s okay. That’s normal.”

His voice was calm, reassuring, like a gentle anchor pulling you back to the present. His eyes never wavered from yours, filled with nothing but tenderness and understanding. “If it’s too much, we can stop. You don’t have to push yourself, love.”

You shook your head softly, your chest swelling with affection for him, for the way he always prioritised your comfort. "No, it’s okay,” you murmured, your voice steady, despite the nerves that had briefly surfaced.

“You’re doing so well.” he murmured, his voice deep and strained with pleasure. His hands guided your hips in a slow rhythm, matching your pace.

Your confidence grew with each movement, the connection between you intensifying. The pleasure coursed through you like a steady pulse, and you couldn’t help but smile as you realised how much you enjoyed the feeling of being in control, of taking your time with him. Despite the initial discomfort, the intimacy was beyond anything you had imagined.

Nanami’s hands moved to your waist, guiding you but never forcing your pace. His eyes never left yours, watching you with a mix of adoration and hunger, as if he was committing every detail of this moment to memory. His quiet groans and whispered praises filled the room, encouraging you to move faster, to take what you needed from him.

The rhythm between you and Nanami deepened, each movement becoming a sacred dance of shared desire. As you rode him, the discomfort faded, replaced by waves of pleasure that seemed to ripple through your entire being. The connection you felt, the intimacy between you, was almost otherworldly—like something pure and divine. It was as if you were both part of something much larger than the physical act itself, something holy, like the intertwining of souls.

Nanami’s quiet groans echoed softly in your ears, blending with the sound of your own breathless moans. His eyes never wavered from yours, holding you in a gaze that felt reverent, as if he were worshipping you in this moment. His hands on your waist were not just guiding you—they were anchoring you to this present, sacred moment. The tenderness in his touch was a constant reminder that this wasn’t just about pleasure—it was about connection, trust, and love.

With each gentle rise and fall of your hips, you felt the tension between you building, a shared crescendo that felt like a prayer being offered to the heavens. The room seemed to glow, the soft light casting shadows that danced across your skin, making the moment feel almost ethereal. You could feel Nanami’s restraint, the way he held back, allowing you to lead, to take what you needed.

You glanced down again, noticing the faint trace of blood still lingering where your bodies met, but instead of worry, it felt like a symbol of something being born between the two of you. It was raw and beautiful in a way that made your heart swell.

Nanami’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, his words a low, reverent whisper. “You’re divine,” he Nanami's voice pulled you from your thoughts, his whispered words, "You're divine," he breathed, his hands squeezing your hips gently as you moved. "You feel so damn perfect."

Shivers ran across your skin at his praise. You had never felt so connected with another person-so enveloped in the pleasure, in the love radiating between you.

But with every shift it grew, not just from the physical, but it felt as though your very souls were craving for each other, entwining like a vine in a precious garden. Every word that came from Nanami was some sort of hallowed sound. His breath on your lips, hands against your skin...it was the kind of veneration one pays to something holy.

Nanami's fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, his touch soft and soothing. Soft kisses pressed against your forehead, your cheeks, your lips-each one another silent declaration of love to you.

As Nanami held you close, his fingers tracing soft patterns on your skin, a fleeting thought crossed his mind. You were his best friend's daughter. It came to him in a flash, momentarily pulling him out of the sacredness of the moment, but he shut it down, refusing to let it intrude.

He wasn't thinking about that now, not when you were here with him, your bodies connected in such a profound, intimate manner. The tenderness in his touch was real; the love he felt for you stronger than any sense of guilt or propriety. It wasn't about what anyone else might think. It was about you, about the trust and bond you'd built together.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to your temple, a silent reassurance, as if it was a sealing of his resolution. Nothing was going to mar this moment-not the past, not expectations, not the weight of responsibility. His fingers dug into your skin, not in a harmful manner but in one speaking volumes about his need to hold on to you, to keep you close. "I'm here," he whispered-a quiet affirmation, yet a promise to himself and you, all at once. "I’ll be all yours-"

The words spoke of everything unsaid, all he couldn't explain yet knew in his heart.

With every subtle rise and fall of your hips, every time your walls clenched around his cock, the tension of the moment surged between you-a crescendo of shared longing that tugged along your very veins like a heartbeat. But as you got lost in the rhythm, you felt the change in Nanami's energy. "Let me take over," he whispered, voice low and full of promise. You nodded, breathless, feeling the thrill of anticipation at the thought.

As you eased yourself off him, his hands guided you gently to the side, and he shifted his position with grace. You found yourself lying back against the soft sheets as your heart pounded in your chest.

As Nanami settled between your legs, his eyes locked onto yours, the intensity in them making your heart race. There was something of the power in his eyes, a quiet confidence that coursed a thrill through you. You felt vulnerable yet cherished, knowing he was fully present, ready to guide you deeper into this moment.

Nanami lifted your ankles up, with a deliberate care, and laid them over his shoulders. The position opened you up to him; it heightened the sensation as he moved in closer. A soft gasp escaped you in a mix of surprise and delight flooding the senses because the positioning allowed for a completely new depth of connection.

"Just breathe," he whispered, his tone silky and soothing as he watched your reaction. His hands wrapped around your legs, his thumbs stroking the sensitive skin as he gently pushed his cock inside again, sliding through with ease now. The angle was completely different, hitting all the right spots, sending jolts of pleasure through your core.

His thrusts were slow and deep, taking his time, wanting you to feel every inch of him inside you. "Kento," you gasped, body instinctively arching toward him as pleasure mounted inside of you. This position allowed him to explore you more fully, each thrust setting off a fire that coursed through your veins, racing your heart and quickening your breath.

He watched you intently, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and tenderness, as if he were committing to memory every reaction, every sigh escaping your lips. "You're incredible," he whispered, the admiration in his voice wrapping around you like a warm caress.

He quickened the pace with each thrust, and his motions grew urgent in his urge to take you higher. The tension coiled inside of you tighter and tighter with each stroke. Nanami pressed forward, his lips grazing your forehead before tracing soft kisses down the hollow of your neck, each one sending new waves coursing through your veins. "Let go," he whispered, the soft air of his voice dancing upon your skin. "Just feel.

With his words still echoing in your mind, you succumbed to the moment and the pleasure heaving upon you like a tidal wave. Anything less would make the connection between the two all-consuming; every thrust pulls you deeper into the bliss of shared intimacy.

As he drove deeper, instinctively, your body coiled around him, pulling him in closer, urging him on. You heard the quiet, breathless groans escaping from his lips, each a testament to the overwhelming pleasure being felt together.

"Just like that-" you encouraged, your voice trembling with need as you lost yourself in the rhythm, each thrust sending you spiralling further into ecstasy. Everything else around you disappeared but the two of you entwined in a dance of passion, a sacred union of body and soul.

He was taken aback by just how beautiful you looked, lying there.

“You really do look angelic," he breathed, staring at the way the dress clung to you. It was surreal to him-how someone so beautiful, so vibrant, could be here, completely vulnerable and open, just for him. The mere thought shot a surge of possessiveness rushing through him, igniting something deep within his core.

"I can’t believe I’m the only one that gets to see you like this," he said, his voice low and husky. The unspoken implication hung in the air, heavy with meaning. A fierce pride swelled inside of him, a protective instinct that raced his heart faster. You were his, and no one else had the privilege to know you this way.

He leaned down, pressing soft kisses against your legs, savouring it. "Knowing I'm the only one who gets to touch you like this-to feel you and see you… it drives me wild," he confessed, words tumbling from his lips in an fervour that even caught him off guard. It was not merely in the act itself but in the depth of your connection, the trust that you had in one another. He couldn’t deny this had sparked up a desire of possession in him for you.

As you moved your hips to meet his thrusts, he groaned, burying his head against your shoulder, almost bending you in half from the angle he had your legs now. The deeper he thrust, the more the feeling of you wrapped around him intensified. Every thrust reminded him of the privilege he held, and he never wanted to forget the feeling of being inside you.

It wasn't one of those moments that would come and go but a promise of what was yet to be, an opportunity to get to know the inside of your relationship in that way-in ways more than physical. And in that realisation, a surge of determination overcame him to always cherish you, protect you, and make you aware of how well loved you were.

The rhythm between you picked up, Nanami holding you close as he thrust deeper, pushing you toward the edge of ecstasy. Your reactions to him-the gasps and moans falling from your lips-caused his heart to race even faster, firing up a flame of desire that threatened to consume him whole.

“I don't think I'm gonna let you go now," he murmured, his voice thick with affection. You felt shivers run down your spine at the conviction he drew behind the statement, a delicious thrill coursing through you. It sounded like a promise, a validation of this moment being more than just a one night thing.

With every thrust, it was like he testified to the fact that he knew you were meant to be together this way, bound by something more real than lust. "If you’ll have more of me, I swear I’ll treat you right" he whispered low, truthfulness in his voice raw and palpable.

As he continued to move, the pace becoming more insistent, the heat rose between you. The way you surrendered to him, trusting him implicitly, made his resolve even stronger. He wanted to protect you, to preserve this connection with every part of his being.

“I want you in my life…properly" he breathed, his voice breaking slightly, his emotions spilling over. "I want to be your person.”

Your eyes met and everything just felt so right. You could see the honesty in his eyes-the fierce protectiveness wrapping around you like a warm hug. This wasn't about desire; it was about love, wanting to be together in every sense.

He continued to move, each thrust a declaration, each moment together a step deeper into the bond you were forging. "You're mine," he repeated, his voice firm and unwavering, punctuating each word with a slow, deliberate movement. "And I'm yours, now and always."

He was putting every ounce into you, feeding the fire that was bursting to last between the two-this moment in the engraving of your hearts forever. Everything else faded around you, and it came down to just the two of you, entwined together in a dance as old as time, bound by passion and an unbreakable connection that seemed to be written across the stars.

With every thrust, the intensity between you became all too much. Nanami began to move with greater urgency, his grip upon you tightening as he urged you toward the brink.

It was as if you could feel the pressure build up in you, spiralling tighter and tighter every time his cock hit that sweet spot inside you. The room echoed with the sounds of your shared breathing, the soft slapping of skin to skin, and the sweet symphony of pleasure mingled together.

“I’m not holding back,” he growled, urgency creeping into his tone. “I want you to feel everything. I want you to remember this.” With that, he quickened his pace, thrusting deeper, harder, pushing you both closer to the edge. Each movement sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, overwhelming your senses, and you could feel the tightness coiling in your core.

“Kento,” you gasped, the sound slipping from your lips unbidden. The tension was unbearable, a sweet torment that made your heart race. You could feel your body responding instinctively, tightening around him, urging him on, begging for release.

“I’m right here,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, even as he lost himself in the heat of the moment. “Let go for me.” His words ignited a spark within you, and you felt the wave building higher, ready to crash over you both.

With one final thrust, everything aligned—the heat, the pressure, the connection—and you felt yourself spiralling over the edge. Your body trembled as waves of pleasure washed over you, crashing through you with an intensity that left you breathless. You cried out his name, the sound echoing in the space between you, as ecstasy enveloped you completely.

You held onto him as you gushed around his cock, the way you clenched around him drew him deeper into the bliss and he followed closely, his own climax hitting him like a tidal wave, surging right through him. “Oh God,” he groaned, the sound raw and primal, his own body responding instinctively to the way you embraced him.

He savoured the aftershocks of the moment, thankful in this moment that he’d worn a condom. And as the waves of pleasure began to recede, you were breathless and spent.

Nanami gently lowered your legs from his shoulders, his touch tender and deliberate. He cradled your ankles in his hands, mindful of the way the position had pulled and stretched your muscles. His fingers began to massage softly, kneading the tension away with a skillful touch that made you sigh in contentment.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and warm, a blend of concern and affection. He looked at you with those deep eyes, searching for any signs of discomfort. The intimacy of the moment enveloped you both like a soft blanket, grounding you in the reality of what you’d just shared.

You nodded, a smile spreading across your lips as you felt his gentle hands work their magic. “I’m perfect,” you breathed, your heart swelling with warmth as you took in the sight of him—the way he focused on you, the care he put into every movement. “Thank you.”

Nanami’s lips curved into a satisfied smile at your words, and he leaned down, placing soft kisses along your ankles and up your calves, each press of his mouth sending a shiver of delight through your body. It felt like a sacred ritual, a way for him to honour the experience you had just shared. He continued to massage your legs, his fingers moving with deliberate care, ensuring you felt cherished and adored.

“I want to take my time with you” he murmured against your skin, his breath warm and tantalising. As he kissed his way back up to your thighs, he looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mix of mischief and sincerity.

“You have me,” you replied, your voice soft but full of promise. “All of me.”

Nanami’s gaze turned serious for a moment, a flicker of something profound passing between you. “I don’t take that lightly,” he said, sincerity lacing his tone. “You mean a lot to me.”

He paused, taking in the moment, the connection that thrummed between you. He quickly discarded the condom before leaning in, capturing your lips with his in a slow, tender kiss that ignited another spark within you. The world around you faded, and all that existed was the taste of him, the warmth of his body, and the way he made you feel—safe, cherished, and completely desired.

“Let’s stay like this for a while,” Nanami whispered against your lips, his breath mingling with yours, creating a heady sensation that made you smile. You nodded, content to linger in this cocoon of warmth and affection, feeling utterly adored in the aftermath of your shared bliss.

The world outside ceased to exist as you both lost yourselves in each other, the echoes of your passion fading into soft whispers, leaving only the sweet sound of your hearts beating in perfect harmony.

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