#how much time he seems to spend by himself and how okay he is with it
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⊹ ࣪ ˖☁️ daydreaming about...
𓆩♡𓆪aged up characters, MDNI𓆩♡𓆪
soft boyfriend megumi who is so secretly sentimental that he saves birthday cards, movie stubs, train tickets - that empty perfume bottle you were planning on throwing out? it's stashed away in his nightstand just so he can have a comforting little reminder of you on the nights that you're away.
soft boyfriend megumi who steals your hoodies and pretends he didn't when asked about it. "you must've accidentally left it here," he shrugs dismissively, knowing damn well that he'd swiped it out of your bag before you left his house last. "why would i have taken it?"
soft boyfriend megumi who spends so much time quietly observing you that he knows all of your mannerisms and what each of them mean no matter how subtle they might seem to others. the nervous laugh you let out when you feel like you've said something dumb, accompanied by your teeth slightly digging into your bottom lip as you look away. his hand finds the small of your back while the two of you continue your walk with yuuji and nobara, light fingertips digging into your hip to pull you closer to him.
soft boyfriend megumi who's always grabbing the sides of your face, gently forcing your eyes to lock with his, especially when you're upset. "tell me," his voice is firm but sincere, the palm of his hand warm against your cheek as his thumb trails across your jawline, "doesn't matter what it is, we'll figure it out together, okay? just tell me."
soft boyfriend megumi who reaches for your hand while he's on top of you, lacing his fingers into yours as he lines himself up with your entrance. whispering sweet heady nothings like, "you look so pretty, y'know that?", "focus on me, baby. yeah, just like that. always such a perfect girl for me."
soft boyfriend megumi who presses his lips against your forehead as his thrusts become deeper and more fervent, "i know," he whispers, mouth dropping open at how fucking good you feel as his face gradually returns back to yours. "i know, i know. right there, huh?" he soothes, feeling you tightening around him. "i'm not stopping, baby, don't worry. just hold onto me, i've got you."
#rem writes#did i accidentally make myself cry while writing this? maybe#jjk megumi#megumi fushiguro#megumi smut#jjk headcanons#jujutsu kaisen#megumi headcanons#jjk fluff#jjk smut#megumi x reader#megumi fushiguro smut#megumi fushiguro fluff#jujutsu kaisen x reader
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Can you imagine pregnant medic reader feeling baby kick for the first time and not wanting to interrupt the boys in practice/at a game but knowing how much they’d want to feel the baby?? (Can be with any of the boys or all of them LOL)
so cuttteeee
hockey!marauders x team medic!reader who interrupts practice [877 words]
CW: pregnancy, afab fem!reader, poly!marauders
The boys have been conflicted about you still working ever since they found out you were expecting.
On one hand, they liked having you close by; within their sights should you need them, and just getting to enjoy the pregnancy with you even when they were traveling for away games.
On the other hand, they hated that you spent so much of your job on your feet, they were extremely nervous having you so close to the action of the game, and don’t even get them started when you have to step out onto the ice.
But you were determined to work for as long as you possibly could, and you couldn’t deny that part of you enjoyed getting to spend as much time as possible with your boyfriends during this very exciting time of your lives.
Were there times you wondered if you wouldn’t perhaps benefit from a little space from them? Sure. Especially when James tried to sit in on all of your appointments with the guys to ensure you weren’t straining yourself, or when Sirius stood directly in your line of sight at every game in an attempt to ‘save you from the tomfoolery, babe���, or when Remus shoved anyone who tried to help you out onto the ice so he could chaperone you himself.
But there were moments - like this - that found you so grateful to have them close by.
“You okay, mama?” Coach Moody asked, though he didn’t bother moving his gaze from the ice where head coach Albus was standing with the boys for practice. “You seem jumpy.”
You hummed in agreement as you placed a hand on your stomach; gently pushing and prodding what felt like a hard part of a little body, wondering if you were only imagining it.
You’d become aware that you weren’t simply growing at about eighteen weeks into your pregnancy when you felt the baby move for the first time. It was like you remembered that your pants were shrinking for an actual reason. But any movement on the baby's part could only be felt internally.
Today, however-
“Oh.” You whispered, and Moody wrenched his eyes from the ice to grab your elbow.
“Doc? Are you okay?”
“Yes, yes. Sorry.” You let out with a laugh; looking to the ice to ensure the boys couldn’t see you being fussed over even though you sort of wanted to call them over here yourself.
“What do you need?” Moody gruffed, though he kept his voice low as if knowing any attention directed your way would result in cacophony from nearly half the team.
“No, nothing. Sorry Coach.” You laughed. “I just…I think, well, the baby’s kicking.”
Moody furrowed his eyes at you as he examined your face; one blue eye piercing and intuitive, the other glass eye which saw the iris and pupil replaced by the Gryffindor Lion’s logo seemed just as knowing.
“First time?”
“First time I can feel it with my hand, yeah.”
He looked you over one last time, cautiously removing his hand from your elbow and looking out onto the ice before blowing his whistle.
“Gather ‘round.” He barked, and though Albus looked confused, he allowed the team to head to the bench.
“Did ya miss us, Moody?” Sirius sing-songed as he made his way over, James laughing and Remus rolling his eyes in response.
“The only time I get any peace is when the lot of you fuck off.” Moody barked back, but his face stayed soft. “Your baby’s kicking.”
Sirius’ teasing smirk fell quickly as he whipped his head to you, James nearly fell over in his haste to make it to you and Remus quickly skated around the clump of bodies to join him; all three of them leaning against the boards in front of you.
“You didn’t have to stop practice for this…” You chided Moody gently, but it seemed that Sirus, James, and Remus weren’t the only one’s excited about it.
“Oh my god! Can I feel!?” Fenwick called, earning him an elbow in the side from Remus.
“Not before us? What the fuck…” Sirius mumbled, keeping his eyes on your stomach as if he could see it.
“Well hurry up then! You’ve got a line behind you.” Grönvall hollered then.
“Goalie first; is rule.” Krum muttered as he placed himself in front of both Fenwick and Grönvall, though politely stayed behind the three boys who all tucked one glove under their opposite arm and held their hands out to you.
The practice arena fell quiet as the entire team held their breath, and you felt sort of horrified at the sudden pressure to perform.
“This will be so embarrassing if it doesn’t happen again.” You admitted quietly, suddenly very embarrassed to have interrupted practice.
Remus made a humming sound in dissent as he brushed his thumb over your belly, and then it happened.
“Holy shit!” James cheered, Sirius’ head snapping up to beam a smile at you.
“Did you feel that!?” Sirius asked no one in particular, but you, James, and Remus all confirmed that you did.
“Okay great! Next!” Dearborn called from behind Grönvall, and that’s how you ended up spending the rest of the practice with various hands on your stomach at any given moment.
#marauders era#marauders au#marauders fanfiction#reader insert#self insert#sirius black#remus lupin#james potter#poly!marauders#poly!marauders x reader#poly!marauders x you#poly!marauders fluff#poly!marauders imagine#sirius black x reader#sirius black x you#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x you#james potter x reader#james potter x you#the marauders#marauders x reader#poly marauders x reader#poly marauders x you#marauders#pregnancy trope#pregnancy fic#pregnant!reader#ellecdc fics#nhl au#hockey au
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On Solas's romantic history
Okay. I know what the consensus is. That he’s way too smooth in Inquisition to be inexperienced but... (and I’m fully prepared to get shat on for this lmao don’t kill me)
When he kisses Lavellan, that doesn’t read to me like he’s super suave and seductive. It reads more like—endeared by them trying to run away after kissing him, then being so surprised by how good the kiss felt, that he grabs Lavellan, kisses them again, pulls back with a surprised look on his face, and then goes in for more. It’s touch-starved, desperate, hungry. It’s not really all that smooth because he’s literally bending them over backwards lmao like Solas can you chill maybe
He is very smooth when flirting with Lavellan, but he's also an absolute gobshite who's spent thousands of years sassing the hell out of wannabe gods so that's not a surprise. He's witty af and enjoys some back and forth.
Solas is a very lonely man. He keeps everyone at arm’s length because he’s seen what getting close to people can do to him. His biggest fear is dying alone, and he almost gives into that because it’s what he believes he deserves for all he’s done. His life has been so stressful for so long that he's almost totally unable to consider anything else but his battles. He even says explicitly that he's tired.
That doesn’t make me think of someone who was out there in Ancient Elvhenan sleeping around all those years. No doubt he considered it, but he likely didn't pursue much with anyone physical; he enjoyed spending as much time as possible in the Fade. (The banter with Blackwall doesn't count to me personally since Solas himself thinks the whole idea is preposterous, which speaks for itself really.) Especially after being a slave/servant to Mythal seems to have voided him of his agency for some time. Then he led a rebellion and fought for thousands of years against brutal tyrants. Any one of the people he was close to could’ve been trying to kill him. Lavellan, however, has no reason to do so, so he can flirt with them freely. In all that time, it seems as though the only people he allowed to get close to the real him were Felassan and Mythal. I don’t think he slept with either, because the relationship was familial. Felassan was also loyal to Mythal, but didn’t burn his vallaslin off. (Is this a right hand/left hand of the Divine parallel again? Two brothers and their mother? Idk, I need to think about that one). For creatures with bodies made from the blood of Titans, they don’t have blood families. They would’ve had to forge their own, which is what Solas did with Mythal and Felassan.
And then there’s his ‘it has been a long time’. Most have taken this to mean that it’s been a long time since he’s been intimate with someone, but given what we know now and that he spent thousands of years in the Fade while his body was in uthenera… I wonder if he’s actually saying-- ‘it has been a long time since I lived in a body’-- ie. ‘it has been a long time since I felt physical drives, a long time since I have felt so physically real’. To me, this makes a lot more sense than the ‘he’s thousands of years old he can’t possibly be a virgin/inexperienced’ take bc like... My friends. It probably didn’t feel like thousands of years to him bc he’s essentially always existed. Time is different for spirits. It’s not like he’s gonna go: ‘well I’m nearly 4000y/o, better lose my v-card’. Time is no object when you are a timeless being. Then, given the path his life took, it wouldn’t make a lot of sense for him to be that experienced given how hard it is for him to trust.
I also personally headcanon him as heavily demisexual/demiromantic too. His true nature is so non-physical that the idea of him being very promiscuous or something just doesn’t fit his character. He needs a mental connection, to feel something, before sharing much of himself, or allowing himself the vulnerability intimacy brings, something he clearly feels with Lavellan based on how shaken up by it he is.
And it’s also canon that Solas has never been in love before meeting Lavellan. So. If he went however many millennia without falling in love, it’s also possible he went without intimacy for a long time too.
To be clear I’m not trying to say that this is the correct conclusion. My opinion has just changed a little since Veilguard (I used to think he was being smooth etc bc he's old af/v experienced, but with confirmation of former spirit Solas it’s changed my perspective somewhat)
Also:
‘Things have always been easier for me in the Fade’
‘I am not often thrown by things that happen in dreams’ my man is shooketh guys SHOOKETH
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@enigma-the-mysterious @theembergazer @lonesome-greenery @somefishycat @kitten-kokomo AIGHT I figure I've written at least 15 sentences here. Welcome to some fake dating shenanigans. Sort of.
.
There was a hairpin, intricately forged and set with amber stones, rich brown and warm gold.
If Liu Qingge was a poetic man -- which he wasn't -- he would compare them to Shang Qinghua's eyes. The way they looked when they caught the setting sun, when Shang Qinghua had triumphantly stormed Bai Zhan, the head of a legendary beast in hand, the edge of a grin on his mouth. Look, I did it just like you wanted me to. I did it just like how you never expected. Isn't it impressive? Aren't I impressive?
Liu Qingge put the hairpin down and walked away.
Five minutes later, Liu Qingge came back and bought the stupid hairpin.
What am I even doing, he thought, even as he handed the money over and carefully tucked the hairpin away in his qiankun pouch. I don't even like Shang Qinghua.
Even if he did like Shang Qinghua -- not that he liked Shang Qinghua -- it... wasn't enough.
A hairpin was traditional in a way that was significantly less impressive than three weeks of paperwork. It was proper, but it wasn't proper. It was. Sentimental. Sweet. It wasn't making an effort, and An Ding demanded effort.
It was still something. Surely a gift had to be better than no gift at all?
.
Liu Qingge came to An Ding at sunset.
How romantic. Shang Qinghua wondered if Liu Qingge had timed it, just like Shang Qinghua had when he visited Bai Zhan -- but nah, probably not. Liu Qingge wasn't really good at figuring out optics. If he was, he would have made this nice and public, so they could flaunt how much time they were spending together because clearly they were in love. Something like that, anyway.
Oh well, it didn't really matter. Shang Qinghua could still spin a nice little story about it. Gush a bit about how Liu-shidi had come to see him. The brave warrior returning home, eagerly rushing to see his lover's face, the first thing he did above anything else. Very nice. Now, if Liu Qingge could give him a dramatic declaration of love, it would be perfect.
"Welcome back, Liu-shidi," Shang Qinghua said. "How was your mission?"
"Fine," Liu Qingge said, and then, in a more constipated-sounding voice, he said, "Shang Qinghua."
Shang Qinghua waited with bated breath. This would be the perfect time to say something sentimental like, "I missed you! My love, my life, our parting was a deep sorrow that condemned my heart to the deepest, darkest abyss. What joy seeing your countenance does me! Let us passionately celebrate our reunion with etc etc to be continued, please check under the biggest stone under the most interestingly-shaped tree between Xian Shu and An Ding if you want to continue reading, pay a fee of one spirit stone."
"Yes?" Shang Qinghua said leadingly. He smiled his best smile.
This somehow seemed to be too much for Liu Qingge. "Here," he said brusquely, shoving a little bundle of wrapped cloth into Shang Qinghua's arms. Then he stalked off without another word.
Rude???
Rude! Rude!! Incredibly fucking rude! Okay, it wasn't like Shang Qinghua was actually expecting some kind of romantic confession, especially when there was no audience here to pretend for besides Shang Qinghua himself, but come on! What was that? Not even a hi, good to see you? What was even the point visiting An Ding, then? Seriously, just package delivery?
Shang Qinghua looked down. The little of wrapped cloth was, in fact, a neatly-wrapped package, which he wouldn't have paid much mind to if it had not been a prettily-wrapped package. Less routine delivery and more gift.
He tilted this situation around a bit in his head to see if there was literally any other way he could interpret it, but no, it seemed Liu Qingge really had just gotten him a gift and ran off, sort of like a shy maiden deeply afraid of rejection.
Shang Qinghua was torn between laughing at this picture in his head (Liu Qinge, shy maiden?) or staring confusedly at it (shy maiden? Liu Qingge???). He could have spent some time overthinking it, but instead, he decided just to open the package.
"Huh," Shang Qinghua said aloud.
There was no one around to hear him. It was just him, and a very beautiful hairpin between his fingers. That Liu Qingge had apparently gotten him.
A hairpin. From Liu Qingge.
Was it possible Liu Qingge meant to give it to someone else? Like his sister? His sister would probably like a hairpin. Maybe Liu Qingge had meant to give something else to Shang Qinghua, and had mixed up the packages.
But the gemstones on it were in An Ding colors.
There was a weird, fluttery feeling in the pit of his stomach.
...Indigestion, probably.
#asks#wip wednesday#enigma-the-mysterious#theembergazer#lonesome-greenery#somefishycat#kitten-kokomo#aiya i put a lot of you in here#svsss#shang qinghua#liu qingge#rr: the battle is the cure#remedies for ruin#my writing#i am not. totally sure where this goes in the chronology#whatever!!!! here you go!!!!
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Spoilers for 8.06 under the cut but I have a hastily written idea of what should happen, even if it seems likely that it won’t…
Buck is left broken from the breakup, spends weeks doing nothing for himself and dreading his own loneliness. His family at the 118 are concerned at his lack of joy and energy, but not one thing they do snaps Buck out of it.
A couple months pass and Buck decides to finally get back out there, maybe take Tommy’s advice. He has been openly queer for longer, maybe there is something to that advice. Maybe he will be able to connect with them like he used to. Back to Buck 1.0, he thinks. So he matches with a few people, and makes plans to meet up with a really hot guy.
The date goes really well. The guy is interesting. No cleft, but that’s not what he’s looking for. He needs different. Something that isn’t going to remind him of the pilot-shaped hole in his heart. He decides to go back to the guy’s place and see how compatible they are in bed. But as soon as things get hot and heavy with him, Buck realizes he doesn’t want this. He wants something deeper, something that this guy doesn’t have. He doesn’t want this. So he leaves without sleeping with him. Buck 1.0 reversion is a total failure.
His next match is with a girl. She’s gorgeous, dark hair, green eyes. She’s a total catch. Best thing, she’s not a guy. Guys remind him of someone he doesn’t want to think about. The date comes a couple nights later and Buck feels anxious about it. She is super interested in him, but the closer the date gets, the less interested Buck grows. He doesn’t cancel the date and tries to get to know her anyways, tries to feign interest as she talks. He can’t stop thinking about how this parallels Abby’s relationship with That Man, how he’s treating this girl the same way That Man treated Abby. At the end of the night, Buck decides against another date and returns home alone. He cannot bear to put either of them through a relationship that he does not want.
But what does Buck want?
What does he need?
The attraction was there with the man he met a couple nights ago. And it was there tonight when he was with the woman. He isn’t repelled from them. They’re just missing something.
Something like a cleft.
A flight suit.
Henleys.
That amazing cologne that Tommy put on before they go out on a date night.
Tommy.
He wants Tommy.
He needs Tommy.
His phone buzzes. Eddie texting him to come to the hospital. Apologizing for ruining his date. Buck scoffs, thinking there’s not much to ruin at this point.
He rushes to the hospital, expecting something with Bobby, Hen, or Chim. But finds Tommy.
“Why is Buck here, Eddie?”
“Buck has every right to know. Didn’t think you were going to cut him off completely.”
“We broke u-”
Buck isn’t going to let him finish this sentence.
“You broke up with me. This wasn’t mutual. How did this happen anyways?”
“That’s-”
“He fell out of the helicopter while servicing it. Banged his head pretty hard, bruised his neck. Nothing broken, don’t worry.”
Buck is seething. Tommy is not that careless.
“I’m okay, so you can leave, Buck. Eddie can take me home.”
“Enough with calling me Buck. Only my friends call me Buck. And you are not my friend. You never were just my friend. You were so much more. That’s why I wanted you to call me Evan that whole time. That’s why I hate it when you call me Buck!”
Tommy opens his mouth to speak and like hell Buck is letting that happen.
“And one more thing. I love you, Tommy. I didn’t want to say it like this, when I’m begging you to give us another shot. I wanted to say it when we were at home together, watching a movie, or lying in bed together after an amazing night. But it’s how I feel - I love you, and I don’t want anyone else. I don’t need anyone else. I just need you to love me back.”
Tommy looks at Buck, stunned into silence, the fight and belligerence from earlier dissipating rapidly as Buck speaks.
“What brought this on?”
Buck takes Tommy’s hand in his own.
“I came here from a date with a girl. I wanted to like her, but she wasn’t you. Neither was the guy I saw the other night. Couldn’t get out of his place fast enough.”
“You ended a date for me?”
“Well the date was over. I couldn’t even pay much attention. And the guy from the other night? Didn’t even make it to the bedroom. I couldn’t get you out of my head.”
“Why, Evan? I broke your heart…”
“Because, you idiot, I love you. And I thought I was the idiot.”
“Maybe I am an idiot…”
Neither noticed the moment when Eddie left the room, but both men look around for him, only noticing that they are alone, the monotonous beeping of the heart rate monitor adding to the silence in the room while neither man talks.
“Is that an apology or regret I hear?”
“I don’t know. Both? Do I even have a right to ask for forgiveness?”
“Why don’t you try and see? Make an effort like I did for you after you left me not once, but twice?”
Tommy stares intensely at Buck, trying to read if that challenge was playful or-
Is Buck the kind of person to goad him into asking for forgiveness only to deny it?
He has to try. Things haven’t been the same without Buck.
“I won’t leave you again…if you take me back, that is…”
Buck surges forward and kisses Tommy aggressively, stopping only when Tommy winces as his head throbs in pain.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry, Tommy. Is your head okay? Neck?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, just sore. In fact, probably better than I’ve been in the last couple months.”
Eddie wanders back in, finding Buck and Tommy almost cuddling in the hospital bed.
“Fucking finally. You two have made me miserable for two fucking months.”
He snaps a picture and sends it to a group chat. Buck’s phone buzzes, irritating him briefly.
Then Tommy’s phone buzzes.
Buck opens the text and it’s an empty chat history.
A new group text.
One with Tommy in it.
Only texts there being a pic of him and Tommy cuddling, captioned “Fucking finally. You all owe me $20!”
And Buck knows everything is right with the world.
#buck x tommy#bucktommy#tommy kinard#evan buckley#evan x tommy#tevan#911 tommy#9 1 1 fanfiction#9 1 1 on abc#bi buck#rough draft
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Daniel was taking a drink of his water when Jia launched the question she’d obviously been dying to ask all night at him. He promptly choked, placing the glass back down on the table and clearing his throat a few times. “We’re diving straight in, huh?” he asked, giving his sister a look that was both exasperated and amused. He took in a deep breath to steady himself, knowing Jia wouldn’t let this go until she got all the details she was looking for. “Yes, we’re still liking him,” he murmured, a shy dusting of pink across his cheeks. “And no, I’m not spending that much time at the club, okay? Just…enough to not look like a stalker.” Daniel rubbed the back of his neck, slightly embarrassed as he thought back to the sheer number of times he’d found himself at the club, watching Angel dance with a magnetism that seemed to pull everyone’s eyes towards him. “He’s…different. He’s not like anyone I’ve ever known and I just can’t keep my eyes off him,” he shook his head, burying his face in his hands for a moment as he let out a grown. When he raised his head back up, he offered Jia a self-deprecating smile. “He also has this way of making me forget how to act like a normal human being.”
present time !
"okay, i need all the details," was the first thing that came out of jia's mouth when they finally sat down at the table. the past thirty minutes had been reserved for casual conversations, talks of the kids at work and minor details of a case daniel was working on. the dinner table was for the big things. like daniel's love life. "how are things going with lover boy ?" she waggled her eyebrows suggestively, knowing that this was new grounds for daniel but also, she was his sister and sisters are obligated to annoy the hell out of their brothers. "are we still liking him ? are we still spending too much of our time watching him dance at a club ?"
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there's a space in my heart that is now permanently occupied by cooking crush and how much it values friendship. the very real pain of feeling left behind by friends getting into relationships and hiding them from you. ten walking in on the friend group reunion ready to ask prem out and quietly and happily walking out because that's not his moment and he respects it. metha and samsee's heart to heart about how relationships and friendships are different and both are important. metha and ten's friendship. actually just metha in general and his relationships with his friends - including samsee now because good god i love their relationship so much. this show loves friendships. this show is my friend. i love you cooking crush
#cooking crush#cooking crush series#i know a lot of people want metha and samsee to be a thing#but i really really like them as friends#i love their love hate dynamic#i love the way metha balances samsee out#and how he seems to have embraced his sort of floating role in his friends' lives through any and all relationships#how much time he seems to spend by himself and how okay he is with it#and i just love samsee making more friends#especially after what he said about prem and dynamite being the only people to ever accept him#he needs more friends#and i like that him and metha sort of accidentally became friendly on the side#mostly unrelated to their friends' relationships#because it's just a natural friendship not borne of (friend of) boyfriend of friend dynamics#just. more friends for samsee.#thanks for coming to my ted talk
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They did Ryuki so dirty in aini and I’m gonna be salty about it for the rest of my life I think
#aitsf#ai nirvana initiative#kuruto ryuki#like cannot emphasize how they just did not use him in the second half of the game#and i dont wanna diss the mizuki side cuz i honestly really loves it and i love her so much but just like#why did they even make ryuki in the first place if theyre gonna cut him off like that#and same with tama too its like you spend this game getting attached to these two really good characters and then its like ha fuck you!#and then all the stuff thats ACTUALLY important to the plot and the case begins#they dont even have like a moment where ryuki can feel relief at date being alive like dude#they like. this guy drinks himself into oblivion and goes insane over the death of a man he loved whose death he blames himself for#and the game cant even give these two characters like even a kinda touching reunion they just straight up DO NOT ACKNOWLEDGE IT AT ALL#which dates role in the game in general i think was also done dirty but i digress#like yeah okay sure just have almost all of ryukis motivations revolve around date and wanting to become worthy of him#and then go eh whatever anyways#oh and then have ryuki literally get shot at the end protecting date cuz thats how much he loves him and just like. they barely even care#date is literally the only person that seemed to have acknowledged it happened but it was literally like#oh no!!!! ryuki is literally bleeding out uwaaa!!! anyways#i used this card hesitantly with pewter after finishing ai1 but fuck it ill say it with my full chest this time#im calling homophobia here like come on you cant ignore this one#sorry to pewter and ryuki for both being canon gay and really interesting characters but the game doesnt care about you 😔
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@voidlesslove said : I'd love to see Kaeya with the traveler as his mate. They'd immediately clock his scent as Inteyvats and depending on which it is would share theirs with him. (Side note I can totally see the traveler as a beta) 『 Related to this || Accepting 』
YES! 🥹
#voidlesslove#☆ ┆ ( .ooc. );#answered#//Love the idea of him panicking over them clocking his actual scent; even if they bring it up in private#//Trying to brush them off; trying to scramble out of it bc who KNOWS if they'd hold it against him#//Only for their own scent to waft over him and calm him (bonus if it's smth similar or has an Odd edge to it; bc they are an Outlander#but that very detail abt it is what HELPS bc it almost feels familiar to him (he'd dare even say it almost felt as though they were#'True Mates'...but how prepostorous would that be? An Omega being True Mates with a BETA? It's unheard of! And yet he almost dares HOPE-)#//He can't immediately identify it; is too caught up in them reassuring him they won't say anything abt it; in steadying himself#//Maybe it's not until they're closer; perhaps around the time of his 'hangout' or after Cari.bert when they decide to become proper 'mates#//And THAT'S when Traveler shares their scent with him; what it is; lets him Properly bask in it rather than indulge faint traces of it#//Because ever since he's gotten a soft spot for them before they left Mond; every time they saw him; he was Exceedingly clingy#//Longing for that little scent that seemed to set his restlessness at ease–as if his body really CHOSE them as his mate#//Kae prolly brushed it off like nothing at first; thinking he was just clingy for a new friend. Never minding how much he Hated them#smelling like others they'd encountered (esp Venti; who likes to scent them for friendship And bc he wanted to play matchmaker for em)#//Prolly helped lead them to tentative courting; over letters; during festivals Traveler would return for. Long distance being so PAINFUL#//And every reunion feeling like the most powerful sense of relief; like finally able to release a bated breath held fast#//I like to think they are VERY bitey mates. Bc Traveler can't really 'claim' him in a traditional sense; but they can sure Mark him#//& vice-versa. & he absolutely leaves them utterly covered in his pheromones each time they part; hoarding things they left their scent on#//Heats get really tricky for them; bc being a Beta; they can't really Satisfy his Urge at the time#//But he doesn't care; would ask them to utterly flood his nest/the place with their pheromones and help him through it anyways#//He'd rather do that and feel a little discomfort than have to resort to bringing an Alpha into the mix. Would LOATHE that#//Still; Traveler being with him Definitely helped him through his heats better than other Beta partners he's had before#//Okay; this was a hc spam whoops fjgbfg. Okay last one; he ONLY ever nests in their teapot. & prefers to spend his heats in there#//THAT'S how comfortable he would feel with them; even before they properly courted/became mates
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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭
pairing: gojo x fem!reader
summary: gojo satoru was the most notorious man across the land. he was the strongest soldier the north had ever produced, the most brilliant of minds, and somebody who slept his way through the noble ranks. his parents set him up in a marriage agreement with you, hoping that a tie with a ring would help save his image. you know gojo never wanted this, and you try to act as if that was normal. but soon, without you or even him realizing it, he comes to the conclusion that while he never wanted this marriage - he's beginning to want you.
warnings: 18+ mdni: arranged marriage, angst, slight no comfort, gojo is emotionally constipated for a bit, heavy making out, eating out (fem! receiving), fingering, (naoya)
word count: 19.7k (sorry)
note: inspired by this drabble. i'm so happy this behemoth of a fic is done!! art credit: _3aem
jjk masterlist + series masterlist
Gojo Satoru was the most powerful man alive.
Not only physically, though some people chalked him up to being half god, but his name held even more control. The Gojo family of the North was as old as the gods themselves, and they’ve been making sure it’s been kept that way. They owned so much land that you would walk to the ends of the earth and circle back around and it would probably still be theirs. They had armies of unfathomable sizes under their command, so much riches that they could probably buy an entire nation and still have plenty to spend.
His presence was just as large as his name created him to be. Any ball he went to, all eyes would fall on him. On the battlefield, men feared to see the flash of white hair, knowing that his strength was unbridled.
And his physical beauty? Most people assumed he was blessed by the gods himself. Gojo had a certain look that just made your knees weak, your heart palpitate, and your cheeks heated up. The handful of times you’ve seen him from afar you’ve been able to understand why all the girls (and some of the guys) yearned for his attention. His eyes were a piercing blue as if somebody had held a mirror to the sky when creating them. His hair had grown whiter with the years, as white as the snow that sunk deep into the grounds of the north. Gojo had the build of a soldier, and he towered over most people. His bulky build was intimidating, but you heard some girls whisper behind their hands about how he must look underneath all those ceremonial garments.
The lord of the North was power itself.
Which would make you, by martial association, the North's most powerful lady.
And for somebody who grew up with the same respect as a stable boy, it was all too much too soon.
And yes, while on paper you still had your father's last name and legacy tied to it, you weren’t really a daughter to your parents. Your mother, though you had to call her by her name whenever you weren’t in public, seeing how she wasn’t really your mother, made sure it was kept that way. Your other three half-sisters should have been in your spot, either one of them more true to the family name than you. But seeing how they’re already married, you were the final resort.
Gojo Satoru, though you’ve seen him countless times (something common because of how close in ranks your families were), had only acknowledged you a couple of times. You didn’t care much, never did, because that's what you were used to. After all, it was a common fact that you were what they nicknamed “the bastard daughter” of the West.
But it didn’t seem to matter much to his parents, as they offered their son up to you in a marriage arrangement.
And who were you to turn that down?
They, his parents, assured you that their son was looking forward to this union. He was the one to offer it, they said, which you were skeptical of but weren’t stupid enough to question. You knew how much Gojo Satoru was tarnishing their reputation with his promiscuous ways, but as long as he was okay with this arrangement you couldn’t find any part of you that would disagree with it.
After all, you knew that this marriage wasn’t out of love, fascination, or even a mutual understanding, but because of the strength your own family (more so your father) held, and how you were the only feasible option for a bride.
So, after weeks of rocking back and forth on agreements, paperwork, dress rehearsals, and grueling dancing lessons (and still no sight of the man himself), you found yourself standing at the end of the aisle, your arm linked around your fathers as a large smile plasters itself on your face.
Ever since you were young you had convinced yourself that the only man who would want to taint his name enough to marry you would have to be either a troll or an ogre, so that fact that your future spouse was human was better than anything you could have asked for.
And you’re not daft. As your heart hammered loudly against the limited space of your chest, waiting for your cue to start walking, you reminded yourself that this was just a mutual agreement. It’s hard for people at your level to marry for love, but even then, you can’t help but hope that you can make a decent friendship out of this.
You glanced at your father next to you, catching his eyes as he nodded once, staring ahead of him into the small crowd of just your two families, and patted your arm.
You still remember the music playing, the instruments harmonizing together as you took a tentative step forward, feeling warm under the eyes of people you didn’t know, but you kept reminding yourself that this was the best thing that could’ve happened to you. Either you died as an old maid in the little room you had near the kitchens at your old home or got married to some warlord who wanted an entire village as family.
The orchids that surrounded the venue still infiltrate your nose as you think about it, the way the silk of your dress felt against your skin that had been scrubbed raw earlier that morning.
And there you saw him, standing at the end of the aisle. At that moment you realized how much of a mistake this was,
Because the man that stood there, the man who you were about to marry, seemed like he’d rather be dead than be your husband.
—
You blink out of your trance, sitting up straighter in your seat as you mindlessly stop tearing up pieces of your bread, rubbing your fingers together to get rid of the remnants of flour.
The dining hall was huge, far bigger than the one back home. Though you rarely ate there, you could still remember it, and it definitely wasn’t as big as this. Yet, despite its size, you felt like you were a little grain of rice in its vastness.
The Gojo estate itself was humongous. His parents resided in a smaller house near the ocean now that you’ve moved in, but you would bet that the word humble they used to describe it was anything but humbling. You’ve been here for weeks and yet you feel like you’ve only discovered half of what this place has to offer.
There were guards at every corner, but at this point, you’re convinced they're just for decoration. If your husband is as decorated a warrior as they say he is, he could protect this entire estate with no help necessary.
You stare at your plate, at the array of food prepared just for you, different sorts of cured meats, loaves of bread, cheeses, fruits, and juices from all over, and still, you feel no hunger.
Months ago you’d be ecstatic to see how much your life has changed. You get new clothes that fit you, food whenever you desire, people at your beck and call. Your room is no longer that cramped space you’d been given to hide you away from the rest of your family, but twice the size of your father's old bedroom. You wake up earlier and sleep later, do whatever you want, but none of it feels deserved.
The only thing you can bring yourself to think about is how the last time you saw your husband was the night of the wedding. The look on his face when you made your empty vows to one another, his faint lingering kiss on your cheek. You can blink your eyes and still see the way he left, his jaw clenched as he ignored the calls from his parents. How, even here, rumors seemed to follow you.
Safe to say, you spent your meals alone.
Not only that, but your rooms were entirely separate as well. You were told that you had to consummate the night of your marriage, but from what you’ve heard, your husband sleeps in an entirely different wing of the estate, with walls and corridors between the two of you.
You tried taking your mind off of things, pretending as if this was normal.
Most days you’d walk around, trying to familiarize yourself with the layout of the grounds. You’d walk the gardens a couple times each week, try to memorize the way back to different places, and stay in the library the other half of the time.
A part of you was happy to at least be away from that miserable home, but it felt like swapping one prison for a slightly better one. Your maids were kind, of course, but you didn’t know anybody here. They treat you like a lady of noble ranking, as expected from being the wife of the Lord in the North, but you’d rather be given an apron and start working around instead of this mind-numbing boredom of just sitting around.
You stare at your plate, chewing on a grape slowly.
Looking up you see the sun filtering in through the large windows, illuminating the long table that sits like an empty grave. Clicking your tongue you pick up another grape, slumping in your seat as you look up.
This is just the way things will be.
—
“Alina?”
You call out from your vanity, staring at your maid as she’s picking out different earrings for you to pick from for dinner.
It’s a couple of days later, and still no word from Gojo. But that doesn’t mean that you haven’t stopped for a single second to not think about your supposed husband.
You try not to care, pretend that you’re lucky that he’s not bothering you or going out of his way to remind you of this unfortunate situation, but above anything you just feel alone.
The maid looks up, a curl falling from her tight bun as she smiles at you in the mirror.
“Yes, my lady?” She stands up straighter, flattening out the wrinkles from her apron tied around her waist as she begins walking towards you with the jewelry.
“Is this…is this normal?” You crane your neck around to look at the different pairs she’s holding up, nudging your head to the red ones that shine bright, and watch as she sets them down on your desk, resting her hand on your hip as she stares at you quizzically.
“What do you mean?” She asks as you begin taking your earrings off, putting the new ones on yourself. In the beginning, she protested, saying that a woman of your caliber shouldn’t have to do such measly tasks. But the more you protested, she eventually gave up.
“Do husbands and wives usually sleep separately?” you say, feeling your chest contract in embarrassment at the stupidness of your question.
You watch as she swallows thickly, avoiding eye contact as she sets on fixing some parts of your hair.
Staring patiently through the vanity mirror as you watch her work, Alina wets her lips, her eyes downcast as if not wanting to answer.
“Was there somebody else he preferred to marry?” You decide to ask, twisting that knife that you knew was lodged in her side, one that was stopping her from talking, and watch as her eyes widen slightly in shock.
“If you don’t answer I’m just going to keep asking more uncomfortable questions,” you warn and Alina snorts softly, shoving your shoulder a little bit as you crack a smile.
She moves around, picking up a necklace, and begins clasping it behind your neck.
“I…I don’t know. He’s always been pretty secretive and,” she looks at you briefly, “Selective. I don’t mean to speak ill of my lord but it would be stupid not to acknowledge his old ways. But we never heard of a specific girl.”
Alina places a gentle hand on your shoulder, a sad smile on her face.
“You’re lucky my lady,” she says, her voice hushed, “Most wives don’t have the freedom to say their husbands don’t care what they do. Had you married that Zenin, you’d be pregnant by now.”
You shudder out a breath, nodding once more.
“I’ll see you after dinner, my lady,” she says, moving out of the way as you stare quietly at the floor before leaving silently.
—-
Tonight for dinner the cooks made you a wide array of different dishes, all from the Northern shore. There are different types of fish, each cooked in various ways. It looks delectable, a feast fit for a king.
You feel awful, though, seeing that you can’t eat any of it.
The last time you had fish your face swelled up and couldn’t breathe properly, so that family physician told you to steer away from it. But you’re here now, and it somehow slipped your mind to ever mention this little fact to them, so you’re awkwardly poking around some of the vegetables under the fish, looking for something to eat.
You pile some potatoes and carrots on your plate, scraping off any bits of fish on them as you hold this wasn’t your last meal.
The only sound that fills the room is your fork and knife sometimes hitting the porcelain plate, and you look up every now and then as you chew, looking at the paintings on the wall.
You’re so focused on a portrait of an old man that you don’t even notice the figure standing at the entrance of the dining hall, not until you hear a muted curse.
You look up instantly, your fork and knife dropping to the plate as you stare at the man in front of you, eyes wide at the sight of your husband.
He stands there, blinking slowly as you stare back.
You could swear time has never moved so slowly before.
You can hear him mutter a quiet shit under his breath, not knowing if he should make this worse by turning around and leaving or if he should join you.
He’s wearing a simple tunic, his face a little flushed, hairline beaded with sweat. Did he just come out of training? He must often do that, you decide, seeing how he must’ve felt comfortable enough walking in here without any clothing of import.
His eyes seem to track your little movements; the way your chest rises and falls in a slow movement, the way your fingers have frozen in mid-air, lips slightly parting. Your eyes dart around the room, everybody seeming to have tensed up.
You open your mouth to say something, anything, but you’ve never been so moved to silence. It seemed as if years of learned vocabulary slipped your mind within an instant, and no matter how hard you tried, nothing was coming back.
Gojo looks behind his shoulder, at the large double doors he entered through, deep in thought. This would be the first time the two of you had seen each other in weeks, and his tirade of avoiding you has come to an end. It looks like an entire battle is being fought in his mind, and you don’t know what to do.
Suddenly, you watch as he shakes his head, deciding to give in and join you for dinner.
The seconds go by like hours as he walks up to the seat at the other end of the table, staring at his seat for a brief second before he pushes it out and sits there.
You don’t know what to do.
Servants and maids quickly swarm the room, setting up his plate, cutlery, food, and drinks. It was all so hectic and rushed, but you were glad that it offered some sort of noise in the drowning silence.
A part of you wants to say something about the fish but you know this isn’t the right time.
In the flurry of movements you allow yourself to discretely look at him a little better, seeing how the last time you saw him was so brief and hurried.
The man radiates a different sort of aura you’ve never experienced before. While your father was one of the most powerful men in the West, Gojo was the strongest throughout the majority of the North and East. His frame took up the entire chair, his muscular shoulders and arms visible even through the loose fabric that was draped over him. You feel a little disappointed, knowing that if you were a different girl you’d probably be able to enjoy all of this.
You try to make yourself seem indifferent, moving some of the vegetables in your plate around, but secretly just trying to shovel them down as fast as humanly possible to get out of this thick atmosphere.
One of the men who was setting up some of the plates in front of Gojo takes notice of this, a smile overtaking his face as you briefly look up from your plate, startled to see the man walking closer to you.
“My lady, I’m so happy to see you enjoying our Northern delicacy!” He claps his hands together as you stare at him with wide eyes, your mouth still full of potatoes as you try chewing faster to get it all down before he gets closer to you.
His eyes wrinkle around the edges, his graying mustache trimmed ever so carefully, and you can tell he’s trying to loosen up the tension, but you stare in abject horror as he stands at your foot of the table.
“Would you like some more?” He motions to the fish that lay untouched in front of you, and you glance over to Gojo, hoping that maybe he is focused on his meal, only for your heart to sink at the fact that he is staring at you.
“...y-yes,” you croak out, wiping some of the carrot remnants from the corners of your lips as you give him a wobbly smile, “It’s alright, I can serve myself,” you exclaim, trying to thwart him off as he quickly waves this aside, shaking his head as he grabs the tray, beginning to portion some hefty pieces of fish onto your plate.
You don’t have the heart to tell this jolly man that this amount of fish would kill you within an instant, or even that he was wasting this all on you, so you just sit there, giving him a tight-lipped smile as you try not to breathe it in too much.
“Is that enough, my lady?” He asks, setting the tray down as you look at your plate now full of different sorts of sea creatures you swallow slowly, looking back up at him as you give a wobbly smile.
“This is great,” you muster up and watch as an even larger smile takes over his face, and you feel awful for it, “Thank you so much,” you tell him, watching as he bows lowly, excusing himself as he, and the other servants, leave the room,
Leaving you and Gojo alone.
You’re grateful that he’s already dug into his meal, not looking at a struggling you that’s moving the fish around with your fork as you try to find the last bits of vegetables you had saved up for yourself.
The smell itself is enough to make your stomach turn, and you wince, reaching for your cup of wine to wash some of the nausea down.
“You have very good wine,” you say suddenly, against your will, and have an out-of-body experience as you realize what you just did.
Gojo looks up from his plate, a little startled as he looks at you and the goblet in your hand, his white brows furrowed.
He nods once, not saying anything, and you feel the strange need to continue, somehow enjoying the feeling of stabbing yourself in the foot.
“Our wine back home tasted like cow piss,” your eyes widened at your slip of crass language, “Er - not piss, um, urine…?” You wince even more, feeling as if a ghost with awful intentions had taken control over your body, “Not that I’ve had cow piss - urine!” You correct yourself, “But I imagine that if I had…that, um, it would taste like o-our wine back home...”
He’s staring at you, unblinking, and you smile awkwardly, raising the cup to him as a sort of cheers gesture.
You count twenty seconds of silence in your head as you set the cup down, playing with your fork as you glance back up at him. Gojo looks as if he is regretting his decision to stay, his fingers tapping on his knife in a hurried sort of way.
“I don’t really like wine,” you continue, feeling like the only thing that could stop you now was if somebody were to bludgeon you to death, “I like juice more. Oh, well, but I guess…wine is juice…?” you mutter to yourself, contradicting your own words mid-sentence, “Back home we had this mulberry juice and it tasted nice. Kind of like your wine,” he’s not even looking at you and so your words die, quieting down as you sink back into your seat, hoping it could eat you entirely.
“Do you like wine?” You ask, tilting your head to the side, smiling faintly, awkwardly, “Or juice? Or… mulberries…?”
He shakes his head, still not staring at you.
“Did you have a good-”
“I prefer eating in silence.” Gojo finally said, raising his head slightly as he stared directly at you, watching as your mouth clamped shut.
Your smile grows small, eyes falling to the table to hide the embarrassment in them. You give him a brief nod, mumbling a quiet apology under your breath as you begin moving some pieces of carrot around on your plate.
You can hear the clinking of his utensils against his plate, wishing you could somehow fit an entire fish down your esophagus to escape this moment.
You give it a couple of seconds, counting the groves in the wood of the table, and rise, stomach empty, heart churning as you finally excuse yourself.
It only takes you minutes to find your room, quicker than last night, and allow yourself to sink against your bed, rubbing your skin raw of the rouge Alina had applied an hour earlier.
—-
You don’t tell anybody of the awful encounter with the man that’s legally your husband, but you’re sure that those there to observe have already begun talking about it. You try to pretend nothing happened, but Alina could pick up on your closed-off demeanor that night, her hands gentler than usual when helping you take off your garments, her eyes filled with concern.
“How was dinner, my lady?” She asked, staring at you as you waved off her worries, mustering up a lame excuse of a smile as you took off your silk shrug, avoiding any sort of eye contact as you slipped into your nightly garments.
“It was good,” your words are void of emotion, “I had fish.”
The following days are empty of any sight of your husband, but you’ve grown to find that normal. It doesn’t help that you can’t stop thinking about how idiotic you acted, your big mouth never knowing when to stop, tossing and turning in your bed at your excuse of an interaction.
You continue with your old routine of walking around the estate, sometimes trying to track down Alina and your other maids, seeing if maybe they had some free time to spend with you. You know there’s a town nearby, the girls often talk about how they go there sometimes at night, but you’re too afraid of going out alone, not used to that sort of thing.
Sometimes you sit out near the fields with a book, twisting the ring that’s searing into your finger, mindlessly taking in the words on the page. Other days you walk around the gardens, picking out some flowers for the vase in your room. On the days when you’re feeling really adventurous, you’d go near the east wing, where you’ve heard Gojo’s room is, and look at what sort of things lie there. But most times you chicken out, going back near your side just as quickly as you went.
You never see him at dinner again, knowing he wasn’t about to put himself through that torture again, so you go back to eating in silence, sometimes pretending that the chairs were full of people and that you were in one of those balls you longed to go to as a kid.
They seem to keep bringing fish out for you, and it’s in so many days deep that you’re in this sort of limbo where you can’t tell them you’re deathly allergic to it without feeling awful for all the work they’ve put in just to realize it’s gone to waste, so those nights, tonight, for example, you try finding as many vegetables as you can.
The roasted asparagus and beets are lovely, but there was only so much of it. And you find yourself getting a little bit sick of it too, your stomach-churning as you try to chug as much water as you can to get rid of the dirt after-taste that the beets have.
You thank the cooks and the servants as you leave for the night, your stomach still relatively empty as you get to your room, telling Alina to leave early for the night as you get ready for bed by yourself, wanting to be with yourself just for a little bit.
You lay on your bed, staring emptily at the ceiling, one hand on your stomach as if gurgling, still hungry for more. You try to sleep, trying to pretend like you were at your old home, those nights when this would be normal, but it’s no use. You’ve been too spoiled at the Gojo estate, and no matter how much you try to ignore the pang of hunger, it continues to bite you back.
So you find yourself twisting off of the warm comfort of your bed, sitting in silence as you contemplate what you’re about to do, but give in, lighting a candle as you slide into some slippers, leaving your room as you try to find your way down to the kitchens.
Thankfully, it’s well into the night when everybody is asleep, so this embarrassing walk of shame is only seen by the guards on duty. You walk down the testing staircase, careful to look around the corners for anybody there, but you’re alone.
You make your way to the kitchens, not hard to find seeing that they’re near the dining hall, and you peep your head inside, a sigh of relief escaping your lips to find that it’s completely deserted.
At your old home, your room was behind the kitchens. You grew up in a small room, nearly the size of a broom cupboard, but you made do with what you had. One benefit of this situation was that you were raised by the smell of different sorts of food, by people who specialized in the art of cooking. You knew how to make meals that nobody else in your family could even imagine, which you’re grateful for right now as you fumble around the kitchen, trying to find where they put different ingredients.
You rummage through the cupboards, finding some eggs, bread, cheeses, and seasonings. You’re able to find the pots and pans a few feet away and start assembling everything for a little omelet.
In your hurry of trying to be quiet and careful, you somehow manage to miss the large shadow figure that’s standing near the doorway, observing you.
You crack the eggs into a bowl, beating them together with a fork you found, too tired to look for an actual whisk, turning around to throw the eggshells away when a cry of surprise escapes your lips.
“Oh!” Your heart nearly falls right out of your ribcage, your hands flying to your chest as you find yourself staring at him, cheeks heating the way they seem to do whenever you’re looking at your husband.
His blue eyes are tracking you, watching what you do, brows furrowed slightly as the two of you can’t do anything but stare at each other.
“I…” You can’t find anything to say, looking at him and then behind your shoulder, to the things you have found, and swallow thickly, wetting your lips as you straighten your back up, suddenly aware of just how flimsy and bedroom-worthy your outfit is.
You can only stare at the ways his arms are crossed over his chest, biceps bulging, and lips pressed into a thin line. It seems like he wasn’t planning on seeing you here, yet another moment in which he’s probably going to regret somehow finding you in such a large estate.
“I’m making an omelet,” you finally say, your words falling like a whisper from your lips as you point to the eggshells now discarded in the trash, “I tried to be quiet…” you shake your head, eyes dropping from his heavy gaze for a second as you glance back up at him, lips upturned in an apologetic smile, “...sorry.”
Gojo doesn’t say much, you’ve noticed that, but now you’re wondering if he has some sort of impediment that stops him from speaking to specific people.
His chest rises briefly as he inhales, his white hair a little tussled as if he were sleeping. It doesn’t make sense why he’d be awoken, though. The kitchens are a far walk from the east wing…?
“I wasn’t asleep,” he finally says as if reading your mind, his voice deep as you feel it rattle your bones.
You nod once, not knowing what to do with the information.
“Well…um,” you fidget with your fingers, “good, that’s good.” You nod once, as if that was all you were going to say, and look at the slight wrinkles in his clothes, crossing your arms over your chest, feeling naked with the way you’re not wearing any undergarments under your little nightly dress.
“I’ll call for a cook,” Gojo murmurs, looking you up and down one final time as he turns to leave, seemingly done with this conversation.
You sputter, shaking your head as you watch him turn to look at you through a confused stare.
“No! Sorry…no, no need,” you say quickly, taking one step forward as if to stop him, “Please, it’s alright. I can cook myself,” you motion once more to your eggs and little station, noting the way he’s looking at you strangely, and so you feel the need to continue talking, perhaps one of your worst flaws.
Gojo looks at you finally, his fingers tapping on his arm.
You notice that he’s not wearing his wedding ring, your chest filling with a strange feeling as you try to hide your ring-clad finger. “Do you not like their cooking?” He asks, and it takes a second for you to blink out of your stupor, a weird sensation in your throat as you shake your head slowly, trying to pull your eyes away from his hand.
“I do,” you assure him, the words falling thickly from your lips, a lump in your chest, “I just feel bad waking them up right now,” you shrug as if you weren’t feeling any of these strange emotions, “And as I said, I can cook…so…”
He nods, seemingly not believing you, not picking up on the storm that happening inside your head at the fact that he’s not wearing his wedding ring. You have to remind yourself that this isn’t an actual marriage, the ring was only for show.
“Did you not eat dinner?” He continues, pressing, and your eyes widen slightly.
You’ve always been terrible at lying, never able to do so. Even when your father's wife continued to drill you on who ate the candies from a party when you were younger, showing her your chocolate-stained fingers that you had hidden behind your back, not even a minute into the interrogation.
“I did,” you say slowly, rubbing up and down your arms to warm them up from the chill breeze that seems to have picked up from the open windows, “The beets and asparagus were very nice,” you agree, not knowing what else to say without blowing this weird secret you’ve been holding onto.
His brow raised slightly, lips pursing slightly.
“And the fish?”
You swallow once again, fidgeting with the fabric of your slip, your hands, your ring, and you don’t notice the way his eyes fall to the gold on your finger, darting back to your face when he notices you staring at him.
“I…” you feel your face heating up beyond human measures, laughing awkwardly as you tug at your necklace chain, wishing that you hadn’t made that stupid decision to leave your comfortable bed, should’ve listened to your gut instead of your stomach, cursing your past self for being so rash, “I, um, I can’t…eat…fish.”
Gojo’s stoic face, so sure and confident, seems to falter for a brief second.
His arms tighten over his chest.
“...what?” He eventually asks after a couple of seconds of mind-bending silence, his head tipping in utter confusion as you sway from side to side on your feet, chewing your lips raw as you wish the ground could open up and never spit you back out.
“The fish always looks great, don’t get me wrong,” you say quickly as if that’s going to do anything, “But I can’t eat fish. Otherwise I’ll swell right up and um, die…probably,” you wince at how bad you are at talking to people, your husband especially.
He lets out a little puff of air that sounds like a shocked scoff, eyes falling to the floor as he shakes his head, not understanding what you are saying.
“But they’ve been cooking fish almost…four times a week?”
You nod, smiling awkwardly, looking at the painting of a fish on the wall as you look back at him.
“They have,” you affirm, leaning against a counter as he stays frozen in his spot at the door.
“And you…you can’t have fish?” Gojo questions incredulously.
“I’ll swell right up,” you repeat with a little smile that he doesn’t mirror, clearly not a man of humor, and you drop your hands to your side, “...kind of like a pufferfish.” You add quietly, looking at the ground as you say it.
He coughs, his hand covering his mouth as you glance up at him, only to see him trying to hide the shocked laugh that had escaped him.
“Why didn’t you tell them?” He finally continues, and you hate the way all your hard work of just saying quiet isn’t working and is in fact, coming back to bite you in the ass.
You shrug once more, shoving a grain of rice that was on the floor with the tip of your shoe.
“The first time it happened I figured I’d just tell them next time, but then that man kept on giving me more fish so I felt bad and I just never said anything.”
Gojo stares at you, his eyes squinting together as if he were figuring out an enigma, a war strategy that even his best generals couldn’t get a grasp of.
You look away, feeling like a fire was being lit under your skin.
“Alright,” you say, clapping your hands together as your stomach grumbles once again, reminding you that it is still in desperate need of food, “I’ll be done soon. And I’ll clean up,” you promise, but you doubt he even cares as you begin to inch away from him.
You watch as a strand of hair falls into his face, watch as he goes to move, never breaking his eye contact with you, until he looks behind you at the eggs and bread, and then to the window behind you, the moon as bright as ever.
He nods a final time, looking over you a final time before he exits.
You make sure he’s far gone, letting out a heavy breath as you hold yourself up by the table, eyes wide at the fact that you had spoken more than two words to the man who seemed to despise your entire existence.
You go back to your eggs, whisking them in silence as your mind reels.
—
Gojo is there, for dinner, the following night.
You enter the dining room to see him at the end of the table, already eating, and glances up briefly when he sees you walk in.
Trying to hide the shock on your face you quickly look away, finding the way to your side of the table as you look around to see what they’ve given you tonight. A sigh of fleeting relief escapes your lips at the lack of fish, glad you’ll be going to sleep full of food tonight.
You serve yourself, piling roasted meats and potatoes onto your plate as you fill your cup with water, not trusting wine after the last time you had it in his presence, and pretend that everything is normal as you pick up your knife and fork.
His words rang in your mind from the last time, the fact that he ate in silence, so you forced yourself to clam up, knowing that it was probably from the best and save you from any more mortification.
Your eyes fleet up now and then, grateful that he’s never looking up when you do, and give yourself some time to really take him in. Maybe in another universe where everything was normal, this could’ve just been another regular thing, and you try pretending that it is.
He’s probably only here because of a timing issue, you tell yourself, maybe this was the only time in the middle of training, state affairs, or other things that he was able to have dinner tonight. Yes, yes, that has to be it.
You look back down at your plate, chewing as quietly as possible, missing the way he lifted his head to look up at you.
—
Dinner with Gojo becomes a strange weekly occurrence.
The two of you eat in silence a couple of times a week, and every time it happens you’re so sure it’s going to be the last.
On one of the nights you find yourself accompanied by the man you decide that the silence is more choking than whatever it is you find yourself saying.
“Have you been notified about this…gathering in a couple of weeks?”
This gathering was something you were told about that morning by Alina. One of the smaller families allied to the North, the Tokoshi’s, had invited you and your husband to join.
“Yes,” Gojo says, and you’re a little surprised that he didn’t just give you a faint nod, “It shouldn’t be too big.”
He cuts off a piece of his lamb, dipping it in some of the gravy as he glances up at you.
You try to hide your excitement, not only from the fact that he’s spoken to you but also from the fact that this was an actual ball you would be able to go to. You knew that marrying him meant attending more of these sorts of events, but seeing how this was your first one, it was hard to not act a little giddy.
“You have a lovely library,” you speak after carefully chewing through some of your food, your pointer finger resting on your fork as your legs crossed.
Gojo glances up at you, those mesmerizing blue eyes finding yours from across the long table.
“At my old home,” you pause briefly, wondering how he feels when you refer to his estate as your other home, “I wasn’t allowed to go into our library unless my tutors asked to have some of our sessions there. So I just wanted to say thank you for letting me - um, go there,” your words quiet down at the end, looking at the roasted pig in front of you momentarily as you wonder what you were even trying to get.
He takes a sip of his wine.
“The grounds are as much mine as they are yours,” he says, but his words sound rehearsed as if he were told to say this.
“Even the east wing?”
You regretted it the moment you asked it.
Shit.
Gojo opens his mouth and then shuts it. You chew on the inside of your cheek, waiting for him to speak, to say something, anything, but it reverts to that same silence that floods your senses and makes you aware of every other sound in the room.
Your burst of what you attempted at comedy seemed to keep coming back instantly in your face, a form of punishment for somebody who never knew how to make uncomfortable situations better.
Suddenly, all of your appetite is lost. Stupid, stupid, stupid, you can only chide yourself, the food in front of you, no matter how good it looked, felt like it would taste like ash on your tongue. You kept feeding this burning fire that was your marriage, expecting your hay-like words to act like water.
There’s a thick tension in the room, and you look around, blinking slowly as you fidget with your fingers.
You try to go back to eating.
You were wrong,
That initial silence was better.
—-
That night you found yourself back in the kitchens.
You’re wiping at your cheeks, hoping that the therapeutic motions of baking can help alleviate some of your many turmoils.
When you were younger, you were used to silence. People normally avoided you, and those who didn’t weren’t ever your age. The cooks at your old estate were kind, but they were usually too busy to entertain a little girl. You would usually help the maids out with their washing and folding, rather doing something than nothing. You would listen in on their gossip and stories, always happy to be included.
You assumed that it would be the same here.
But the maids assured you that a lady of such high rank shouldn’t be meddling in such lowly tasks, and the cooks here were cooking for such a larger number of people that you knew you couldn’t bother them the way you used to.
So you find yourself with a lot to say but nobody to say it to. The jokes and ideas that pop into your head fall flat because the old ladies who helped clean the bedsheets and used to laugh hearing them are no longer here. In those moments you’re with Alina or your other maids are sparse, and so you sometimes imagine that if you speak more when Gojo is around, he might warm up to you.
You also had to remind yourself that your track record with men wasn’t the best either. Those fleeting crushes on some of the other boys who you’d see at balls always ended with them scurrying away from you as if you were the plague. The only other marriage offer you’d gotten was from a man who had struggled with finding a woman who could keep up with his awful ways. So the fact that Gojo Satoru, the most well-known man in the realm, didn’t want much to do with you wasn’t shocking.
And Alina was right. A lot of wives aren’t as lucky to say their husbands don’t care, but you wondered how it would’ve been if he did. You exclaimed to her a couple of nights ago that you should’ve just married Naoya, but deep inside you knew that’s not what you wanted. A part of you knew ever since you agreed to this arrangement that you wouldn’t be getting an actual husband out of it.
You sniffle, your eyes blurry. You don’t like crying in front of people, and so you allow yourself to do so in the pale moonlight of the kitchen, the only sound other than your ragged breathing being the repeated sound of flour falling softly in your mixing bowl.
Baking was something that nobody ever could judge you about. You were good at it, and you knew you could do it with no error. Your cakes and pastries always turned out well, save for the minor problems you ran into as a kid, but you sometimes act like you’re baking for a group of people, about to take it out to see a sea of smiling faces who are happy to see you and your deserts.
“I thought you only cooked when they served fish for dinner.”
A voice, one that’s seared into your memory, says from behind you.
It takes everything in you not to jump from surprise, and it takes even more willpower not to turn around.
You quickly wipe at your cheeks, breathing in to make sure your voice won’t come out in bits and pieces. You keep your back to your husband, continuing to sift your flour in the bowl, a continual motion like waves hitting against the dock.
“I’m baking,” you specify, cringing at the way you sound like you’re fighting a nasty cold.
Gojo doesn’t say anything for a beat and does nothing to move. You’re glad he doesn’t, too scared that if he saw your puffy eyes or your tear-stained cheeks he’d begin to think that you have no backbone at all. It felt almost pathetic to have the world's strongest warrior see you recover from crying alone.
He hums in the back of his throat at your words, and you wonder what he looks like right now.
“I doubt these walls have seen a lady of such high rank before,” he comments, and you look up briefly from the mountain of white building up in the bowl, “They must whisper to themselves once you leave.”
You let out a little puff of air, something resembling a soulless laugh.
“Everyone whispers to themselves after I leave,” you say, reaching for a whisk, “I’ve heard more whispers than my own name.”
He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and you hope he doesn’t notice the way you quickly try to wipe at the corners of your eyes.
“You come down here a lot,” it’s posed as a question, but Gojo says it like a statement. He must have eyes everywhere, reporting to him what you’re doing. You wouldn’t be shocked, but you just nod, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you begin to whisk your dry ingredients together.
“I hope it’s okay,” you throw in a pinch of salt as you mix, “I like the kitchen.”
He let out a little breath as if he was about to chuckle, but then he got confused. You decide to spare him the endless questions that must be going on in his head, wondering why somebody in your position would prefer the kitchens rather than anywhere else.
“My bedroom used to be behind a kitchen. I’d have to go through the pantry just to reach it,” you turn briefly to grab your bowl with the wet ingredients, pouring it slowly into your flour and sugar mixture, mixing it in slowly and carefully.
“My father’s wife wanted me out of sight. That estate had never used one of its actual bedrooms to sleep the daughter of a whore,” you can hear him inhale sharply, “I woke up to the sounds of people shouting for different ingredients, to pots and pans clanging against each other. I learned how to cook and bake when I was young, and I usually helped them cook the food my family would eat for dinner.”
When your batter is all mixed through you go to find the pan you have buttered and dusted with sugar, pouring it in as you wipe off the side of the bowl that had some remnants of batter dripping from it.
“They never asked me to, but I liked it. I liked feeling useful,” you peek over to your side, seeing him leaning against the wall adjacent to you, silent as a mouse.
You walk over to the other side of the kitchen with your pan, careful with the lid to the brick oven, heated with the fire you had lit an hour ago, and slide your cake pan into it, closing it shut as you stand up straight.
Finally, you look over at him.
His eyes rake over your face, lingering on the circles underneath your eyes, the redness that stained the whites of them. He’s clad in the simple tunic and breeches he had worn to dinner hours ago, his large shoulders leaning on the wall as his arms lay crossed over his chest.
“I won’t go to the east wing,” you say in a whisper, your voice quiet but heavy as it falls from your lips as a promise, trying to muster up a smile but it comes out wobbly, “I was just trying to make you laugh.”
His lips looked pinker than usual as if he had been chewing on them, something you often did when you were deep in thought. His white hair had been messily pushed back as if his fingers had been combing through them continuously.
“These grounds are yours,” Gojo says, his words thick from his throat. His exhale and inhale mirror the way you breathe, your two chests rising as though living with the same lungs.
You shrug, a melancholy look on your face as you shake your head.
“Maybe if I was your wife,” your words are said without any malice, “But I’m just another person who sleeps here.”
Gojo tilts his head slightly as if your statement had somehow wrenched itself into his mind, weighing it down. Even in the limited light, you could see the way he looked at you, an unreadable expression on his face.
“I’m sorry about all of this. I know I took away your chance to marry somebody you actually wanted, but my father told me you were okay with the arrangement. I wouldn’t have agreed to it otherwise,” you twist your wedding ring around your finger mindlessly, a little habit you’ve grown over the weeks here, “I never wanted to be selfish, and I truthfully never wanted a husband. I just wanted a friend.”
—
Ever since that night, you eat your meals in your room.
Alina protested, saying it’s not right to eat alone, but you told her not to think about it, saying how you liked the silence.
You mustered up the courage to ask some of the coachmen to take you to the nearby town, starting by looking around at the little shops, keeping a hood over your head in case somebody saw a new stranger.
Sometimes you’d go inside the shops, finding little trinkets that you thought your maids might like, or ornaments that might help fill up the empty spots around your room. You’ve never been able to decorate before with how small your old room was, so you decided to take advantage of its space.
When you’re walking around you sometimes see Gojo, either in the training yard or walking around with one of his advisors. There have been moments when the two of you catch each other's stares from across the room, but you’re always the first to look away, making sure you’re going in a different direction than him.
You knew that you’d have to talk to him eventually, especially with the gathering that was coming up at the Tokoshi manor, but each night you pretended it was another day away, instead of one day closer.
Your maids came bustling in and out of your room more often than usual with preparations for the night that was closing in, shoving you into different dresses, not satisfied until they found the right one.
Alina noticed your shift in demeanor, never picking and prodding at it, but silently observing. You could tell she knew something was wrong, but you didn’t know how to put exactly what you were feeling in words.
It didn’t help that the closer you got to the night of the event Gojo seemed to be everywhere you were. The gardens, the library, the field, the stables. He probably just had business to attend to, but it didn’t help that whenever he saw you it looked like he wanted to say something. It also didn’t help that you’d scurry away when you saw him open his mouth.
The weeks turned into days, the days into a day, and that day into hours and you found yourself perched uncomfortably on a chair as three different women attended to your face, hair, and accessories.
You watch them work silently, taking in all the jewelry and makeup that you’ve been looking forward to wearing. It’s nothing too drastic, but that
girl who longed to wear pretty things inside of you is gleaming right now.
“…Lord Gojo requested for her to wear another pair of earrings,” one of your maids says, looking at the earrings Alina had picked out for you.
Your ears perk up at the mention of his name, watching Alina as she perks an eyebrow up.
“When did he request that?”
The older lady looks at you in the mirror and then at Alina.
“A couple of nights ago,” she shows Alina another pair, a sapphire one that seems to gleam brightly, “he dropped them off when she was…away…” the maid trails off, noticing the fact that you were eavesdropping.
Your eyes dart away as if that would help, but she quickly changes the topic, and you huff in annoyance as Alina sends you a knowing look.
“Your husband is a strange man,” Alina mutters in your ear as you giggle quietly, rolling your eyes as she playfully shoves your shoulder.
You don’t say anything in retaliation, and sit back as you put in your new earrings, grateful that they still complimented the color of your dress, and try to pretend you are going down for dinner rather than a gathering with people you didn’t know.
You’ve been learning this entire week how to properly hold a spoon and fork, and how to cut your food appropriately. You’ve been taking dancing lessons, discovered how to properly greet people, and even learned how to gracefully enter and exit a horse-drawn carriage. All things you should’ve probably learned earlier, but were never able to.
Alina helps you out of the chair when they are all done, giving you a second to look into the mirror. The dress they had wrangled you into was beautiful, your hair done in the way you liked. You thanked them all, expressing your endless gratitude for their hard work.
You take a deep breath as you exit the room and go out into the hall, leading yourself down the stairs and through multiple corridors, trying to calm down your palpitating heart.
It takes a few minutes but you find yourself at the front of the manor, standing alone and looking around, trying to see if you were at the wrong place. But in the distance, you can see the coachmen and the carriage, the door shut, still waiting for you.
You take a tentative step forward, nearing the entranceway that leads outside, but feel a soft touch hovering above your elbow.
It’s strange how he usually finds you before you find him, but as somebody who’s trained to know and find things before others do, you suppose it makes sense. You glance to your side, already expecting to see those cerulean eyes as you look up.
Gojo looks good, somehow better than usual.
He’s clad in dark blue garments, intricate with Northern design, and your eyes look up and down his entire body. His usual muscular build seems to be outlined by the stretch of his overcoat, the way the fabric is sitting snugly over his chest.
He seems to be doing the same, though. You can feel his gaze drop to your dress, to the way your lips are a little redder than usual, your hair done in a way that suits your face. His eyes linger on your ears, and there’s a small, barely noticeable tug to the corners of his lips.
“Ready?” Gojo asks, the first time he’s spoken in a couple of weeks, and you hum.
He takes his hand away from your elbow as he rests it on the small of your back, and you feel heat travel from his fingertips through the fabric, through your corset, your undergarments, and straight to your skin.
They bring the carriage out a little closer, a coachman opening the door for you. You brace yourself, heaving your dress upwards as you go to grasp the rail on the side.
But Gojo moves swiftly, offering you his glove-clad hand as you look over at him in surprise, taking it after a moment of hesitation, and haul yourself inside.
It’s far bigger than the one you usually take to town, and you settle for a corner on the left-hand side near the window. The walls of the carriage are lined with this sort of fabric that feels like it’s lighter than a cloud, colored the traditional blue of the Gojo family. You’d guess it could fit at least an entire family comfortably, so you’re not too worried about the underskirt of your dress taking up too much space.
You watch Gojo follow you in. He looks around, having to duck his head (and a lot of his back) as he sits in front of you, pushing the strands of hair that had fallen into his face.
The two of you sit in awkward silence, your gaze settled on the door that they shut after Gojo entered, and your eyes quickly fall to your hands resting in your lap, neatly folded.
The carriage starts a little bit later, the wheels humming to life as the coachmen yip at the horses to start. The sudden rocking movement that you’ve become familiar with sways you side to side, and suddenly you're totally aware of the fact that you’re alone in a limited space with the man you’ve been avoiding for the better half of two weeks.
You can feel his stare boring into the side of your head, can hear the way his breathing is coming out strangely as if he wanted to talk, but kept stopping himself off before he could say a word.
“Did you like the earrings?” Gojo finally asks, and you glance up, eyes narrowing for a second in confusion as realization suddenly comes rushing in.
“Hm? O-oh, yes!” You quickly stutter out, your hands flying to your ears as if you forgot they were there, “Yes, thank you. They were beautiful. They kind of looked like the inside of a belly button,” you say.
Your husband blinks, brows furrowed slightly as you think about what you had just said, eyes wide in shock.
“Er…well, gods, no, not bellybuttons,” your head falls to your hands as you shake your head profusely, “Sorry, they don’t look like belly buttons-”
But you stop when you hear a small laugh from him, quiet as he looks away for a second, a tiny slightly visible grin on his face as he looks back at you.
“Did you know that sometimes,” his eyes are a little upturned as if he fighting back an actual smile, “I make a bet with myself about what you’re going to say?”
You smile slightly, your head cocking to the side.
“Have you ever won?”
Gojo chuckles, and your eyes suddenly fall to his hand, at the way he’s fidgeting with his ring, his wedding ring, the same way you seem to do whenever you’re thinking about everything and anything all at once.
“Not once.”
You grin, and though you still feel this heavy weight of unspoken things resting in the middle of you two, you decide not to acknowledge it at the moment. Things unsaid, unheard, weaved through the air, tying you and him together like a tapestry.
You fidget with your skirt, looking out the window at the moving scenery.
Gojo breathes deeply through his nose, his pointed finger tapping on his thigh.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” he finally says, and your eyes dart away from the trees and the sky to look over at him.
His bottom lip is caught underneath his teeth, his blue eyes shining with a different hue. He takes up a lot of room with just his size alone, but it looks like he’s trying to make himself seem less intimidating, less of a warrior, and more of a…person.
You don’t say anything, opting to stay quiet to see what it is that he is trying to formulate into words.
“That night,” Gojo twists his ring back and forth with his thumb, “I…” It’s weird to see somebody so sure of themself struggle to speak, and your brows crease in the middle, not knowing what it was he was trying to get at.
“I wanted to tell you that you too had a right to a good husband. Somebody who didn't rush you into a marriage because of his own mistakes…somebody you wanted.”
Where is he going with this?
You suddenly feel your throat dry up, swallowing thickly as Gojo looks out the window momentarily before looking back at you.
“My parents never told me who I’d be marrying,” Gojo explains, his voice hoarse, “I figured out the day of the wedding,” he twisted his wedding ring, looking at the way it shined, “And I wanted to hate you,”
His words punch you square in the gut, but you can only bring yourself to keep on looking at him.
“I wanted to hate you so much because it would be easier to act like this wasn’t my fault if I could…but,” he sighs, his chest rising and falling, “I don’t think it’s possible to hate you.”
Your lip trembles slgihtly, a sheen over your eyes. What is he doing?
“I’ve been raised in a way most people our age aren’t. My parents wanted me to be the strongest so was put into training since I was four, and I think this entire time I’ve been trying to approach you like a…military strategy. You were this map in my head that no matter how I approached it nothing made sense. But that night, in the kitchen, everything finally did.”
Your eyes flitter downwards so that he couldn’t see the waver in them
“You didn’t deserve how you were treated in your old life, nor this new one,” his hand covers his chest, and you feel lightheaded, “And I promise to you I’ll do everything in my power to make this one better. If you don’t want me as a husband, than as a friend.
“I’d like to be your friend, if you’d allow me,” he whispers thickly, his voice heavy. He fidgets with his fingers, moving them together and back out again, and you notice how he does this a lot whenever you’re near.
Your heart is beating so quickly that you feel like it's going to stop, and your mind is working so hectically that you don’t know what to think. This is the same man who looked at you as if you had torn down the moon and stars when he saw you the first time, the man who never seemed to be that interested in what it is you had to say. The very same person who would’ve rather married a broomstick than you.
…right?
And yet he’s here, asking to be your friend. Something that nobody has ever asked before, something that people wouldn’t ever dare to murmur out loud to you. He had no beneficial gain from doing this, no ally that he would please if he offered to be your friend.
Your heart twists because why does he look like he cares about what you say? His eyes are creased slightly around the edges, his lips pressed together as if he were preparing for whatever outcome it was to what you said.
Nobody has ever told you those things, the things that made years of pain and hurt strummed into one beat that your heart never wanted to drum to. This man, your husband, Gojo, was supposed to be another cog in that old machine, one that hummed and spurred like it was about to eat you alive.
But the more you look at him, the more you let your unspoken words speak in silence for you, you realise that he isn’t lying.
You open your mouth to speak but are cut off when the carriage comes to a sudden halt.
The two of you look at each other and then to the door, watching as it opens up, greeted to the sight of a large manor with multiple people walking in hand in hand. You swallow your bile, not knowing what to say, deciding to flee instead of face him like you should’ve.
—
The gathering itself was far more boring than you imagined it to be.
You and Gojo had the mutual understanding to act more…well, like a couple, than you actually were. You didn’t comment on the way his arm circled around your waist a couple of minutes into making your rounds talking with people or the endearing way he referred to you as my wife.
You’re glad that he doesn’t do anything to talk about what he had told you in the carriage whenever the two of you were alone, acting like nothing was wrong and everything was normal as he inquired about your day.
You told him brief things, still trying to shove his words out of your mind, but it was no use. I’d like to be your friend, your mind kept repeating, and you were too scared of brining it up in case he had changed his mind in between those minutes of quiet.
People you had never seen before congratulated you on your new marriage, their brows raised in that excited way as they motioned to your stomach, hinting at a special little someone who might be joining your lives soon.
“Soon!” You said with a curt laugh, glancing momentarily at Gojo only to see him already looking at you, a light blush dusting his cheeks.
He made sure not to stay with people who were strangers to you for too long, not wanting to bore you to death, and allowed you to take in more of the well-lit and vastly decorated manor.
Though its size was incomparable to the Gojo estate, it was still massive. The Tokoshi family had been a family with the Gojo one for centuries, so there was no question that the riches they had amassed over the years by being trading partners with them had culminated in this.
Gojo told you earlier in the carriage, before everything else, how the young Tokoshi couple were good people. They liked to throw parties a couple of times a year, inviting only a select few. He liked them far more than a lot of the other people he had been forced to grow up with over the years.
You look at the dining hall, at the corridors with openings that allow you to look outside without the glare of glass. His arm never left your body, holding you close to him as he let you walk around, your mouth hanging open slightly as you craned your neck to look at everything. Candles were lit everywhere, the bouquets of different assortments of flowers decorating the stone flower holders carved into the walls.
You mentioned to him in the privacy of the carriage, that you hadn’t ever been able to experience a party of this sort of caliber before. You could see how he wanted to ask more questions, but you could see the answers already formulating his head as to why.
“We probably look like one of those couples where the wife’s dying and the husband takes her out to see the stars one last time,” you whisper to him, still looking around in a stunned sort of way at the beauty of it all.
Gojo’s head ducks down a bit, trying to hide the chuckle that had broken out and made its way onto his face. He coughs into his fist as if that was the issue, but you look over at him to see the humor in his eyes.
“Did you lose your bet again?” You ask, glancing at him from the corner of your eyes as he looks like he’s fighting the grin that’s threatening to take over.
“I’m always losing that bet,” he tells you.
Though he doesn’t do anything to bring up his conversation, you can see it in the way he looks at you, as if he’s still teetering on an edge, wanting to know what you were thinking in that frazzled mind of yours.
You decide to push past it.
“Can I get in on it?” You ask, turning slightly so that you face him, very aware of the fact that his hand hasn’t moved from its spot on your waist.
You try not to think about it, reminding yourself that it’s just for show, but you can’t stop the feeling of heat that travels wherever it is he seems to touch you. His hand is larger than an average one, his fingers moving mindlessly up and down on your corseted stomach.
“Do you need the extra coin?” His voice is carrying a strange tone…is he teasing you?
But again, you try not to think about it, it’s all for show, (you also try not to think too much of the fact that you’re pretty separated from everybody else).
“No, I just need coin,” you explain, fixing one of the medallions on his chest that had been slightly slanted, “I have nearly nothing left.”
Gojo moves barely away from you, his eyes searching yours as if to find the joke.
“Have you run through my family gold already?” His voice is still toying, but now it’s filled with a little confusion.
“No, of course not,” you snort, rolling your eyes as you tilt your chin up to look at him better, “I haven’t touched any of your gold. I just ran through mine.”
His brows quirks upward, mouth parting slightly.
“You’ve emptied the gold your family sent up?”
It’s your turn to be confused.
“What gold?” You ask, moving away from him, his hand falling to his side, and you suddenly miss his warmth.
You remember your father talking about how the Gojo family had rejected your initial dowry, saying something along the lines of outlandish practices, but aside from that, you weren’t told about any other sort of money that was supposed to be sent with you.
He pinches the bridges of his nose, sighing deeply.
“The gold that they sent with you? It wasn’t supposed to be a lot but it was supposed to suffice for the journey here.”
You blink owlishly at him.
“What gold have you run through?” He specifies, plastering on a fake smile when he catches the eyes of somebody behind you, but then focuses his stare back to you.
“Well…” you shrug, “My gold.”
Gojo looks like he’s about to make a new bet, one that’s with every time you’ve almost given him an aneurysm trying to figure out your strange riddles and rhymes that are supposed to be actual words.
“I used to make some gold at my old home,” you explain, keeping your voice low in case somebody was somewhere that you hadn’t seen, but realizing that Gojo was lost, you continued, “The stable boy gave me some of his salary if I took care of the horses and cleaned the stables. Sometimes he’d give me extra if I could haul in the large bags of hay.”
He scoffs, shaking his head slightly.
“Why?” That seems to be a question he’s been asking lately.
You shrug again, feeling his hand circle back around your waist as some people come near you,
“I needed new clothes and my shoes had holes in them. My father’s wife didn’t let him give me much, so I tried to fill in the gaps.”
You smile at one of the couples that are coming near you, going back into your other persona as you begin chatting with them. Gojo pulls you in tighter to his side, staying silent. You don’t notice the way he hasn’t stopped staring at you, nor the way his heart seems to have churned so painfully in his chest.
—
The night progresses and you find yourself inside the dining hall, being shown to your seats by one of the maids, finding your name next to Gojo’s on a name card.
The two of you sit down, watching the people the file in, the sound of laughter filling the room, the clinking of china against each other filling in the rest of the silence. You take it all in with a smile, looking every and at everyone.
“I hope I’m not embarrassing you,” you whisper as you lean closer to Gojo, an apologetic smile on your face as you sit further into your seat, “This is all just so new to me.”
You don’t see the ways his eyes soften, his hand inching closer to yours as he shakes his head.
“You’re not embarrassing me,” he murmurs back, leaning his head closer to yours, wanting his words only to be heard by you, “I’m glad you’re enjoying this.” The smile that makes its way onto your face could power the universe, and Gojo feels like the wind had been knocked from his lungs, far worse than in training when somebody's foot slams into his chest.
“I am!” Your enthusiastic and hurried words are hushed, but he can still hear the way you’re trying to hide your joy. The small talk is horrific,” he laughs a little bit, “but still I love it.”
He opens his mouth to speak but is cut off by the sound of a knife hitting glass.
“Everyone! Give me your time, just for a moment!” Miyo Tokoshi, whom you spoke to briefly, stands up, his chair behind him.
All eyes in the room fall on him, people still smiling, their teeth glimmering in the light.
“I cannot express my joy to be in a room with you all tonight,” he says, looking around the room, making sure he saw everyone for a split second. “And my wife and I couldn’t be more ecstatic to host the first gathering of the season!”
You look at the woman sitting next to him, Lana, who you had also met momentarily, is gleaming at him, her face full of genuine adoration. She, along with everybody else, claps, laughing joyfully.
You wonder if this is what a real husband and wife should look like, and you look briefly over to Gojo, your mind reeling with the charade the two of you have been playing this entire night.
“And we couldn’t be happier to welcome the first couple of the year,” he exclaims, pointing his glass over to you and Gojo, saying your name and then your husbands as he claps his hand softly against his wrist, “May every moment you spend together be better than the last. We wish the two of nothing but a lifetime of happiness and prosperity.
Gojo raised his glass to him, his hand grasping yours as he lifted it to his lips, planting a kiss on the back of it.
You feel like you’ve stopped breathing with the linger of his lips on your skin, the last time that happened on the night of your wedding, and watching him grasp it even tighter when he sets it back down, weaving his fingers through yours.
Stop, you chide, raising your glass as well, a shaky smile on your face, it’s just an act.
He winks at the two of you, nodding once more as he focuses his stare somewhere down the table, obstructed by where you are sitting.
“And to the future couple! Naoya and Freya!”
Gojo turned his head immediately to look at you, watching the color drain from your face, and before you knew it, the man, Naoya, was standing up, a hand over his chest in faux gratitude as he thanked the host.
You could never mistake that hair, the feline look in his eyes as he scanned across the room, a slimy smile on his face. You watch as it grows even wider when he finally catches his prey when he finally sees you, and you feel nauseous, like you’re about to throw up all those little crackers they had given you earlier that evening.
The hand holding yours squeezes, knowing he can’t say anything right now, and you swallow thickly, eyes darting over to his as you feel your head about to sway.
Naoya’s here. The man you turned down for Gojo.
The rest of Tokoshi’s speech is muted to you. It feels like your head is being held underwater, and you feel sweat dotting your forehead, your chest, and your palms. You can feel Gojo’s eyes on the side of your head and can tell he’s trying to tell you something silently.
The clinking of glass brings you out of your haze, looking up mindlessly as you haphazardly clink yours against Gojo’s, rubbing a hand down your face as if that would help.
You're grateful for the flurry of movements and noises, everybody talking to somebody, the people beginning to serve themselves the wide array of food places in front of them.
Gojo squeezes your hand one more time, and you finally look over at him, trying to muster up a smile but with how queasy you feel and the way your head spinning, it probably looks like you’re about to be sick all over him.
“I’ll be okay,” you say through clenched teeth.
Gojo nods, his thumb rubbing up and down your hand in a soothing way. It’s just for show.
“I’m sorry my palms are sweating,” you laugh mirthlessly, and he squeezes it again, you’re sure he’s only doing this because of the extra attention of the two of you ever since they realized you and Naoya were in the same room, “you don’t have to keep holding it.”
“Do you want me to let go?” He asks, and you stop poking around at the turnips on your plate.
No.
“N-no,” you croak out, desperate for his touch that’s grounding you, “No, please.”
Gojo nods, his thumb not stopping its comforting motion of moving up and down.
“Don’t worry,” he mutters, leaning closer to you as you duck your head so that your ears are near his lips, “My hands get sweaty too.”
You laugh quietly and it sounds like wind chimes. You look at Gojo and watch as his lips tug upwards into a soft smile, one you had never seen before, and one you thought you never would.
—
You tried to hide away the rest of the party, but Gojo didn’t seem to mind.
When it was time to leave you accepted the gracious hug of the hosting couple, promising them that you’d come back for a more private dinner, and let Gojo lead you out into the courtyard where all the carriages were held.
You slept the entire ride home, not wanting to mess anything up by taking, and you’re happy that Gojo didn’t bother you. You felt groggy when you returned to the estate, grateful for Gojo’s steady hand as he helped you out of the carriage. The two of you looked like you wanted to say something, but couldn’t, so you bid each other good night and went your separate ways.
Separate except for one brief moment.
You were walking away and up the stairs when you suddenly stopped, remembering what it was that you wanted to tell him. You call out his name, watching as he turns, white brows slightly furrowed.
“I…” you start but realize you didn’t exactly have a plan for what you wanted to say. He gives you his patience, not looking annoyed or frustrated when you try to think of the right words to string together.
“I…I would like to be your friend too,” you finally say, and watch as a smile forms on his face, his pink lips tugging upwards in a way that made his eyes shine, the way your earrings did in the candlelight.
He rakes his hand through his snow-white locks, pushing them away from his face.
“I’ll see you at breakfast then,” Gojo says, and you dip your head down in a small smile.
You give him a small wave, disappearing as you round the corner.
And since then, you found him joining you not only for breakfast or the sparse dinners but for any meal he possibly could.
Gojo talked more, about anything and everything, and you did the same.
You realized that he was actually an open person the closer you got to him, seeing that he too was capable of laughing and making jokes, his teasing eyes growing more frequent the closer your chairs got to the dinner table until you eventually just sat side-by-side, growing tired of shouting at each other across its length.
On the days he wasn’t busy with strategizing or talking to other lords, he’d walk around the estate with you, telling you stories from his childhood, the times he’d run amock around the halls. Other times the two of you would go into town, looking at the different stores together.
You could tell he was trying, could see it in the way he glanced at you from time to time to make sure that you were doing well.
He’d accompany you to the library if you asked him to, and you’d go down sometimes to the training yard just to see him. Gojo would never tell you how much he tried to show off when you were there and knew he never had to. You could see the way he tried to appear even stronger when fighting with one of the other men, the poor soldier coming out with bruises and cuts all over his body.
Over many weeks, you find yourself looking forward to spending time with him, and a part of your cracked self begins mending itself again.
It felt like after years of searching for somebody, somebody found you.
On one of the nights when his sparring had gone on for far longer than it usually does, you decided to head down to the training yard after your night bath, tugging on a large robe over yourself as you walked the familiar stone steps down to where you knew he was.
You could hear them before you saw them, a cacophony of fists hitting skin, groans, shouts from one another. There was a little perch from where you could watch what was happening below, and you usually hid yourself in a corner so that they wouldn’t see you.
You’d rest on a pillar, arms crossed over your shoulder as you looked at the men below. Gojo was always easy to find, the flurry of white hair a tall-tale sign of where he was. You had watched him before, but you never got tired of it. You found it almost inhuman the way his movements seemed to flow like water, the way his hits were precise and direct.
Gojo truly was the best warrior the North had ever seen, and sometimes you forget that you’re married to a man who brought down entire armies with just his bare fists.
You watch as he jests with one of his friends, his chest rising a little bit at an irregular pace, slightly out of breath, but happy to be there. He turns to one of the guys behind him to say something, but his eyes immediately track upwards to the figure trying to stay hidden, you and a wide smile break out on his face.
He waves at you, and it gets the attention of the other men there. They all turn to see where you are, their boyish grins and calls making you roll your eyes at their antics, your face heating up slightly as you wave back at them.
Gojo says something to the person next to him, and you hear the man shout at the other ones to wrap it up for the night. Some of them wave goodbye to you as they begin exiting, going back to their common rooms.
You make a move to lean slightly over the railing, your arms crossed over the wood as you peer down at the ground where Gojo remained alone, finding him to already be looking up at you.
“Care to come down?” He juts his chin at the staircase to your left, the one that leads down to the courtyard, and you nod, disappearing behind the stone pillars as you take the steps leading downwards.
You’ve been here a couple of times, as per your own request. You wanted to see what they did during training, what the training yard actually looked like from the ground. You lift the ends of your dress up slightly as you near the bottom, rounding the corner to see Gojo standing in the middle.
He’s waiting for you, his eyes tracking your movements as you come near to him.
His nose twitches slightly, his eyes squinting as he lifts his head in the air, suddenly picking up the scent of something unusual.
“What’s that smell?” Gojo asks as you come to him, his eyes looking over your body as if it were emitting from you.
You scoff, appalled, and then suddenly remember that Alina had applied some lavender oil to you after your bath.
“If it’s a good smell then me,” you cross your arms over your chest, nose wrinkling in disgust as you take in his smell of sweat and grime, “If bad then you.”
Gojo snorts, coming closer to you as he continues sniffing, exaggerating the sound. You step away from him slightly, the smell of sweat overpowering, and he takes notice of this.
“What?” He inquires, annoyed that you are moving away from him, and he takes a step closer.
“What do you mean what?” You tease, moving again as he tries to smell the air, “You smell like an army of unshowered men. I just took a bath.”��
Gojo seems offended at this, trying to move back closer to you but you side-step him, apparently serious about this.
“You really won’t let me come near you?” He sounds like you’ve kicked him down, his cheeks stained pink from earlier, and you laugh slightly, shaking your head.
“I really won’t,” you affirm, shoving the back of your wrist to him to show him that what he was smelling was in fact you, “See? Lavender oil.”
Gojo just seems to be getting more annoyed the more you try to evade him, his blue eyes swirling with an idea as you look at him in worry.
“No, the smell is coming from somewhere else.” He argues, changing his footing so that he stands right in front of you and you let out a shocked laugh, not expecting this as you take a step back.
You don’t know where else he can smell the lavender oil. Alina dotted it to your wrists and your neck, but surely can’t differentiate the difference in location…right?
“Come here,” he almost whines, “I’m not going to rub off my smell onto you.”
You laugh again out loud, picking up the skirt of your dress as you try to outrun him slightly.
“You will!” You insist, motioning to the sheen of sweat on his body, “You reek of sweat. I swear it’s just lavender oil!”
He groans, his eyes rolling to the back of his head at this inconvenience.
“You’re killing me right now,” Gojo dramatically grabs his chest, “You won’t let me smell this strange aroma and it’s killing me,” his face breaking into a little pout as you laugh even louder, shocked at how petulant he was being. Your laughing seemed to spur him on even more, running towards you as you ran backward, hoping you didn’t trip on the fabric of your dress.
“You have a plethora of bottles of lavender oil in your own room,” you argue, “this isn’t something innovative that you’ve never smelled before.”
Gojo shakes his head, and your heart flutters at the way his smile is so playful and teasing, the way some of his hair falls into his face in that messy way when he’s usually training and not caring about his appearance.
“It’ll only take a second,” he reasons and you shake your head no, your eyes both shining with playful laughter.
The courtyards lead out into the large fields of the Gojo estate, and you look behind yourself at the opening. It’s night, there’s nobody around. Nobody would judge you for running away from your sweaty husband.
You look back at him, see the gleam in his eyes, and know that he’s not going to back down.
He can see the thoughts forming in your head, can assume them before they’re even created, and so he’s straight on your heels as you sprint away from him, a large smile on your face as you squeal out loud.
“Please!” You shout over your shoulder, running down the little hill as the moon lights the way for you, “I just took a bath! Leave me alone!”
You can hear the grass rustling beneath your feet, your screams of laughter contagious as you try to outrun the fastest person ever, and try not to slow yourself down by looking over your shoulder to see where he is.
But after a couple of seconds of running you realize that the only footsteps you hear are your own, and you pause momentarily to look behind you and are surprised to see that he’s not there.
Did he not come after you?
You look around the field, the large blades of grass looking like waves that move with the wind, and whip your head around every time you hear a twig snap.
You're a little bit further away from the manor itself, and the only thing you can see besides its large stone walls are the torches lit outside. You can make out the guards who are standing outside, but no sign of Gojo.
You try to catch your breath, confused as to where he could’ve gone when a force stronger than a horse running at full speed slams into your side.
The scream you let out echoes around the field, and you brace yourself for the harsh impact of hitting the ground. With your eyes squeezed shut you wait for the flash of pain, but peek them open to see Gojo framing your head with one of his hands, his body shielding you from the impact as he lays on top of you.
“How…?” You scream, your chest moving up and down with your fit of giggles, trying to push him off of you, “You’re a beast!” You cry out, moving your head to the side as he laughs along with you, his chest rumbling with the movement.
You shove his face away with the palm of your hands, shoving your wrist into his nose as if that would satiate him.
“I took a bath you behemoth!” You whine, thinking about the dirt and mud that must be staining your skin and dress right now, “Are you so void of any good fragrance in your life that you must hunt me down for it?”
Gojo tsks, shaking his head as he swats your wrist aside.
He’s also slightly out of breath, most likely because he ran across and entire field from another entranceway that you weren’t aware of to catch you off guard, and you’re suddenly very aware of just how close to two of you are together.
His hand is still cradling your head, the other one holding your hips. Truthfully he doesn’t even smell bad, which is frustrating that it’s just another one of his many talents.
He judges your jaw up with his nose, and you helplessly comply, your heart hammering wildly as he leans in closer to the skin of your neck, taking in a whiff as he looks back up to you, his eyes gleaming.
Gojo’s hand on your hip moves up slightly to hold your waist, not hard, but to stop you from squirming around.
“It smells different here,” he nudges your neck with his nose again, and your breathing hitches, “Smells sweeter.”
You swallow thickly, blinking slowly as you crane your neck slightly upwards to give him more room. It’s like your body is moving on its own, and you’re not to sure how you know what to do, but you just do.
“That’s not possible,” you try to argue, trying your best to keep your voice from wavering, “You just lack the nose for good oils.”
Gojo laughs lowly, shaking his head at your antics as he braces his knees on either side of your thighs, caging you in.
“I have a very keen sense of smell,” he boasts and you snort, looking away as he pinches your hip to which you yelp.
His hand moves away from your head and to your shoulder, to where your nightgown had slightly slipped off and runs a thumb down a patch of your skin where it was slightly raised, a faint scar on your collarbone.
“Where’d you get this?” His voice is slightly hushed, and you look down from your chin to where he is talking about.
“Hm?” You look around, see that he’s pointing to the tiniest little scar, and chuckle slightly, “Oh, that?” Your eyes squint as you try to remember, “I tried to climb up a tree once when I was little and fell.” Gojo huffs out a little laugh, his eyes still focused on your skin as you chew on the inside of your cheek.
“It probably looks far worse compared to anything you have,” you say sarcastically, “The family physician kept saying I wasn’t going to make it through the night.”
He scoffs, rolling his eyes at your antics as he raises himself, moving away from you as he sits back down on the grass. You miss his warmth, the way his heat radiated onto you like a furnace.
“I don’t know how you keep surviving between your inability to consume fish and your near-death occurrences,” Gojo’s voice holds a teasing tone and you smile, moving up so that you’re facing him.
You rest your weight back on your hands, kicking your legs out in front of you as your skirt flows around the grass. A while ago you would’ve felt improper sitting like this in front of anyone, but you don’t seem to care all that much when it’s Gojo.
“I showed you my battle would,” you say, putting one leg on top of the other, “What’s your worst one?” You ask, tilting your head to the side in questioning.
Gojo purses his lip, thinking.
You imagine that he’d tell you or probably motion to where it was, but a second later you watch, shocked, as he tugs his tunic upwards, your face heating as he rises it slightly so that you can see a part of his stomach.
You hate how utterly built he is.
His skin is pulled taught over the smooth stomach of his abs, his chest huge with pure muscle, his arms, bulging through the sleeves. It’s something you thought you’d get used to, something you told yourself to stop ogling at, but never could.
But you shift your focus to a large scar that runs across his chest, from the bottom of his hip under his arm. It still looks relatively new, and the scar itself still pink. You could see the way it was jagged, not one smooth line, and gods, fuck, why do you want to touch it?
“Well,” you try to think of something witty to say, seeing the way he’s looking at you as if waiting for it, “Clearly not as bad as mine, but it comes in as a close second.”
He throws his head back as he laughs, his muscles contracting as he does so. You feel flushed, not able to look away from the scar, knowing that you were merely compensating for not knowing what to say.
“I know,” he says eventually with a shrug, looking down as he surveys the scar, “It’s not as bad as it could’ve been.”
You pout slightly, thinking.
“Does it hurt?”
He looks up at you, at the way you can’t take your eyes away from it, and shakes his head.
“Not anymore,” he sits up a little straighter, closer to you as you watch him move, “Sometimes I can feel it sting, but it’s barely noticeable.”
You beg to differ.
The two of you don’t say anything and a part of you has decided that silence is bad for you. Because before you can really think about what you’re doing, you push yourself upwards, leaning in closer to him as you try to get a better look at it.
He doesn’t say anything, but if only you could see the way he could barely use his lungs to breath right now you’d make some sly remark about how the best warrior of the North was growing shy from just a look.
But suddenly you’re not looking anymore as you shuffle in a little closer, your fingers reaching upwards to touch the skin.
You can hear the wind move around you, the grass rustiling as your fingers run across the scar. His abs flex at the coldness of your hand, but he doesn’t tell you to stop. You’re studying it intently, wondering what sort of weapon could’ve caused this.
Gojo’s size dwarfs over yours, but you don’t seem to mind. Your lips as slightly pursed as you take it in.
“Did you fight a bear?” You finally ask, peeking up to look at him.
You’re startled by the way the flush on his cheeks has grown even more red, or the way you can’t see the blues in his eyes anymore. Has he always looked like that?
Gojo shakes his head, taking in a shaky breath, looking at the top of your head as you go back to looking at the scar.
“Nearly,” he tries to joke, but his voice is weak, laced with need, “But I doubt a bear would even want to be compared to the man who gave me the scar.”
You look up, your brow quirked in curiosity.
“Who?” You ask, shocked at how quiet your voice came out.
Gojo smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His tongue clicks against his teeth, his hand rising up to grab yours, pulling it away from his chest. He can’t bear to have you touching him like that anymore, not trusting himself to restrain the pure desire that bubbling inside his veins.
“Naoya,” he says hushed, watching as your lips part and eyes widen.
There’s a beat of silence, a moment when you think you can hear your heart beating in the same rhythm his is.
Your hand curls into itself, shock taking over your features as your eyes drop to his scar and then back up to him. You find yourself wanting to say everything and anything, but can’t somehow find the words that you’re looking for. Gojo beats you to it, thankfully.
“I’ve been having this recurring dream ever since I fought him of that same moment over and over again when he cut me open. But it’s changed, recently,” He sits up straighter, so close to you that your chests are almost touching, “And I keep seeing him marrying you, what would’ve happened if you had said yes.”
“And gods, fuck,” he ducks his head down, raking an agitated hand through his hair, making it even more messy, “I…” He chokes on his breath, looking back at you, and suddenly you see the glossiness in his eyes, the way that tears brim his waterline.
And suddenly you see the Gojo Satoru, the Lord in the North, the most powerful man alive, cry.
“I keep reprimanding Naoya in my head about how awful he is, about how I’d kill nearly every person alive if he ever touched you, b-but I was just as awful. I think about the first time I saw you, about the first weeks you were here. I think about how you must’ve felt, how alone you were. Every day…” he wipes messily at his cheeks, his lips wobbling, “Every day I wake up and think of you. I think about your face, your smile, your eyes, your lips, the way your nose scrunches, that line between your brows when you're confused, and every night I go to sleep hoping that this was all an awful dream and I haven’t ruined your life, but then I wake up, and it starts all over again.”
“I know I’m a selfish man,” Gojo says with a wet chuckle, his cheeks wet with tears, “I know I shouldn’t, but I want you to myself, I want you forever. I want to be your friend, I want to be the person you sleep next to, the person you go to when you want to talk about your little stories. I want to hear your jokes and I want to see you laugh. I want to hold your hand, I want to put that ring on your finger every morning, and I want to propose to you each night.”
He shakes his head, swallowing his cries down, the moon lighting the tear tracks that start from his eyes and end at his chin.
“But I know you don’t want that. You told me that you wanted a friend, but…” he shrugged, his smile sad, aching, longing, “I think along the way of being your friend I realized I wanted to be your husband too.”
“I understand if you want to leave. I’ll tell my parents the truth, they’ll understand. I have a house ready for you near the sea, one away from your family, where you can start over.”
The wind rustles the hills, and you look at the field, watch the way it moves in tandem with the life around it.
You can feel the tears forming in your eyes, and know that even if you blink them away it’ll do nothing to actually hide them. There’s a burning feeling in your chest, one that you’ve never felt before, one that rings with Gojo’s words.
You run your fingers through the grass, looking up at him with a certain fire in your eyes.
“What if I don’t want that?”
He blinks slowly.
“I,” Gojo sniffs, nodding profusely, hoping you don’t see the way he crumbles, “I understand, I promise I do. The house is a couple days-”
“No,” you cut him off firmly, wiping your palms furisuly across your cheeks, to rid them of the pesky tears, shaking your head, “What if I don’t want that?” You move up to him, reaching your hand down his tunic, your fingers moving against is chest as you dig out the gold chain that’s wrapped around his neck.
The one that holds his ring, the one he told you about one night that keeps it safe whenever he’s training.
“What if I want this?” Your voice is cracking, and you tug the chain tighter.
“What if I want all those things? What if I want you to love me?” The ring shines in the moonlight, mirroring her pair thats wrapped around your finger, “I want to be your friend,” you stress, your brows strewn together as tears overflow from your waterline, “And I want to know what things you like. I want to walk with you all around the earth and walk back home again. I want to sleep next to you. I want to make you laugh, and I want you to make me smile. I want you to be my husband so that I can be your wife,” you cry out, your chest heaving up and down as he wraps his arms around your back, pulling you into his lap as he tries to quickly wipe your tears away.
“I want you too, Satoru,” you whisper, broken with your wet sniffles, a wet laugh escaping your lips when you see him crack at the way you said his name with so much care, your thumbs gliding across his cheeks.
You slide closer into him, your legs splitting across his huge thighs as he hugs you tenderly to him, his head resting on your chest so that he can hear your heartbeat, make sure that this wasn’t just another dream.
“I don’t deserve you,” he murmurs against your bosom, looking up at you with glistening eyes.
“Then fight for me,” you whisper, your hands on either side of his face, “Give me all those things. Give me more,” you smile when his arms wrap around your waist a little tighter, his hands holding you up, “And I’ll do the same.”
He nods, holding your hand that was still holding onto his ring to his chest, one hand moving to your back, and in the mess of tears and broken laughs the two of you seem to move together, meeting each other in the middle as your lips find each other in the dark shadows of night.
You gasp when his lips capture yours, and he moves towards the sound, wanting to hold it, keep it forever.
Gojo moves slowly, knowing that this is your first time, and cups your jaw, helping you move along with him as you lips slot and lock against each other. It’s messy and with no order, your chin staining with sweat as you moan against him, feeling delirious without the touch of him.
You know this isn’t the easiest position for him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He groans against you, his eyes squeezing shut, trying to memorize your taste in case the world ended tomorrow and this was his last meal.
“Is this-” You cut him off when you swoop in again, his laughter cut short by your needienss, the way you paw at his chest, your hands winding up to his hair as you tug harshly on the soft strands.
He moans at this, at the way you grind mindlessly on his thigh, your need for each other bleeding out into the open.
“I love you,” he murmurs against you, kissing down your chin and then back up to you, his tongue swiping against your lips, savroing your whine, “I love you so much,” he says to everybody, hoping even those on mountains oceans away could hear, “I love you, my wife,” and you giggle, eyes bright when you hear those words.
“Say it again,” you ask, your nails drawing little shapes on his nape, and you see him break into a smile.
“My wife,” he repeats with a peck to your cheek, “My beautiful wife,” he kisses the tip of your nose, smiling at the way it scrunhed up slightly, just the way he adored, “My wife,” he kisses your jaw, “My wife,” your giggling nonstop and he hopes to bottle up the sound and hear it on his deathbed.
His hands travel back down to your hips, adusjsting you slightly so that you wouldn’t feelt he embarrassing hardening of his dick just from kissing you, and moves his lips down to your neck, hearing the way there’s a hitch in your laughter.
“Why’d you stop?” he nudges his nose at that spot pf your neck that still smells like lavender, his favroite scent in the world, “Hm?” Gojo hums against that spot, licking a wet stripe up it, sucking at the skin, feeling the way you arch into his chest.
“Y-your reeking s-scent infiltrated my nose,” you murmur, biting on your lip as he pinches your waist.
“Yeah?” Gojo continued to tease you, sliding the sleeve of your dress down, giving you more access to the skin of your collarbone, “Want me to stop?”
“No!” You cry, totally against your better judgement, moaning when he sucks another mark into the skin, biting it, and then presses a soft kiss to it as an apology, “Please, please, don’t stop.”
He chuckles darkly, shifting you around so that you are lying back down on the ground, his body framing yours as he continues tugging down your dress, going slow in case you ever wanted him to stop.
His fingers are quick at untying the string that holds you bodice together, unravelingit all until it falls off and he’s greeted to the sight of your heaving chest, the way your naked breasts rise and fall.
Gojo blinks for a moment, forgetting how to move.
“W-what?” You ask, a little self-conscience as he continues to stare at your chest, “Do they look wonky?” You move your hands to cover up but a deep gutteral growl escapes his lips, pinning your hands back.
“Beautiful,” he bites out, moving his head down, pressing a wet kiss in between the valley of your breasts, “You look like a fuckin’ statue,” he says, “You’re s-so beautiful.” Gojo repeats, and you can’t protest with the way he praises you, nor the way his lips hover over a nipple, finally leaning in fully as he sucks on it.
“F-fuck!” You cry out at the sensation, your fingers lost in his hair as you keep him there, back arching off the ground, “That, that feels…good,” you can’t speak, not with the way his tongue slides across your nipple, pressing little kisses around you areola.
His other hand goes to your other one, making sure she’s not feeling lonely, his thumb flicking over your sensitive nipples as you whine even louder.
Gojo switches and you feel your breath shudder in an embarrassing whimper, your eeys squeezing shut when he bites at you, wanting to mark you up for those wretched gods to see and feel humanly jealous over.
“So soft,” he murmurs against your skin, almost in awe, “feels like silk.”
You would’ve had a witty joke about this, you know you did, but you can’t fathom to think about anything other than the way his lips feel on your tits, the way he seems like he’d die had he not been here sooner.
But he then raises his head, and you whine in protest. Gojo almost break at the way you’re looking up at him, the way yor lips tremble from sheer desire.
“Want more?” He presses, his hands, warmer than the fire that’s burning in your belly, trailing down, down to where your dress was slightly parting, “Here?”
“Y-yes, fuck,” you moan, parting your legs to make room for him, not knowing what this feeling was but knowing that he was the only one who could soothe it, “Need it so bad Sa-satoru,”
His eyes roll back, swallowing his primal groan at the way you plead for him, and nods, pressing a kiss against your stomach before his hitches the fabric upwards, sliding down your body so that his face is closer to that heat.
You know you should feel more shame, but you feel like you’re going to die if your husband doesn’t do something soon.
Gojo’s hand travels up your calf, trailing up your thigh, and suddenly stops.
You go to beg, plead, for him, but cut yourself off when his lips find your inner thighs, pressign wet and messy kisses to them, getting dangerously close to where you felt like you were leaking.
“You’re divine,” he whispers against your skin, hands wrapping around your thighs as he pulls them apart, “Fuckin’ divine.”
His lips suddenly find there, you glistening cunt, and you mewl out for him.
“Satoru,” your chest is heaving like you can’t find any air, “T-there, please, there,” and fuck the way you’re begging him is so sweet that he can’t find it in himself to tease you.
His fingers seperate your wet lips, groaning when he sees just how much you’re dripping, and licks a tentative stripe upwards, your surprised gasp at how good it felt going straight to his cock.
Gojo carefully slides a finger through your tight walls, feeling the way you tighten around that, and lets his lips travel to your clit, pressing small kisses to it before he begins to suck. You clench around him, and your toes curl at the way he begins to pump it in and out, your essence soaking his skin.
“So wet sweetheart,” he groans swapping his finger for his thumb at your clit, his tongue diving into your walls as he nearly cums from your saccharine taste alone, “S-shit, fuck, you taste like fucking heaven.”
Your thighs tighten arund his head, but he craves the feeling, his tongue eating you out at such a fast pace that you begin to wonder if you need this more or him.
“O-oh gods,” your grips his head tightly, can’t find the sympathy in yourself to feel bad, “‘Toru, oh, oh my, don’t stop!
That coil in your stomach grows more taunt with each second.
He alternates, adding in another thick finger, feeling the way you try to stretch for him. He glides in and out of you with ease, but he wonders what you’d look like on his thick cock, how you’d preen as he split you open with his girth.
“Sweet,” he moans against you, his voice vibrating against your pulsing walls, “You’re so fuckin’ sweet.”
You nod at something, whatever he just said, not fulling understanding anything around you as he continue to stimulate your clit, sucking on it, his teeth gliding across it with a little bite, and you moan out even louder.
“I…” you can’t think, can’t breathe, “F-fcuk, ‘Toru, something, something’s happening,” you don’t know what this feeling is, this electric, all-consuming feeling that’s zapping through your body, making it numb yet aware of everything at the same time.
“I know, I know,” Gojo praised you, one of his hands holding your stomach down, the added pressure making you whine, “You’re doing so good for me, you’re there, come on come for me,” his hand travels up your body, finding yours as he weaves your fingers together.
“Shit, shit,” you mewl, “I’m coming, fuck, c-coming!” You cry out, your back arching off of the ground as your legs grow slack around his shoulders, your walls pulsing around him as that string tightens for the final time and then finally breaks.
You can see white as your eyes rolls back into your head, squeezing his hand as tightly as you can, your yes dotting with tears. Your climax was all consuming, making you gush around his fingers and tongue, seeming to be never-ending, your body shaking in his hold.
Gojo presses one final kiss to your cunt, licking off your release from his fingers, groaning at the taste, and lets you catch your breath.
When you’re finally able to crack your eyes open, you peek them over to Gojo, seeing the way he tilts his head back, your cum still glistening on his chin and cheek, and whine out in embarrassment.
“What?” He asks, eyes teasing when you go to hide your face in your hands.
“I can’t,” your words are muffled, “I can’t believe I just…”
Gojo kisses your forehead, wiping some of the tears from your eyes away as he kisses your brow bone.
“How do you feel?” He asks, his eyes scanning over your body, glistening with sweat, and you take in a gulp of air.
“Good,” you say finally with a soft smile, “Really good.”
You look from his little grin, one that you peck at, your thumb rubbing up and down his jaw, and then look down, to the obvious bulge that’s hiding behind his training trousers.
You’ve never seen a cock before but fuck he’s massive.
“What…” you trail off, sitting up slightly, and he helps balance you, “What about you?” you paw at his stomach, right before it leads down, and he lets out a shuddered whine.
“As much as I-” he bites his tongue, feeling like he’s going to cum if you continue to look at him like that, “As much as I want to…not here,” he looks around at the field, shaking his head as a definite no, “Not here.”
You go to protest, but he stops you, biting your fingers gently as you yelp, shoving his head away with little force as he chuckles.
You let him wrap your dress around you again, tying some of the knots so that it doesn’t open up when you’re standing, and let the silence wash over the two of you calm your beating down heart down.
He plays with the ring around your finger, and you watch as the ring around his neck moves with his little breaths.
“I want to sleep in your bed,” you say, and his blue eyes find yours.
“You’re crazy if you don’t think I’m letting you sleep anywhere else,” he says in a shocked sort of way and you laugh, looking over to the side for a brief moment, and then look back at him.
“Do you really love me?”
Your words as whispered, but it feels like the wind picked them up and scattered them all around the field, around the river, the ancient stones, and right into Gojo’s heart.
“I really love you,” he whispers back, kissing your eyelids, in between your brows, your forehead, the back of your hand, and murmurs the words, “my wife,” to nobody and to everybody at the same time.
You smile, pulling him down by that necklace of his so that you can plant a soft kiss against his lips.
#gojo x reader#gojo x reader smut#gojo x reader angst#gojo x you#gojo x you smut#gojo angst#satoru x reader#satoru x reader angst#gojo satoru x reader#jjk x reader#jjk x reader smut#jjk x reader angst#gojo satoru smut#gojo x reader fluff#satoru x you#jjk smut#arranged!gojo
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"𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐊"
𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊
—cw: lactation kink, mentions of pregnancy, dirty, nasty, depraved stuff, vaginal sex, period oral mention, monsterfucking in kuna's (sukuna's is way too dirty), dry humping, drinking breast milk obv, not proofread (this is too long and i have an event tomorrow)
—a/n: i have officially lost it. is it obvious i have lost it? idk if this is the best or the worst thing you will ever read but this is very depraved and nasty. like...aaaaaaaaaahh okay i am normal. i put my big titties non existent breast milk into this so please read it all and i hope you enjoy.
𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔
— satoru is the man who is always up for something new. especially, if it involves pleasing you because he's a good husband and that's good what husbands do. he knows how to pull out the naughty parts out of you, but he had to work his way up.
"I am just saying. It helps. Believe me," your husband was arguing with you.
"Cut it out, Toru. I am not letting you suck my boobs."
"But why?"
"Because it's gross and weird." The moment those words left your mouth, he audibly gasped.
"Did you just call our baby's food gross?" You rolled your eyes. He's always like this. It's not like you weren't curious of his reaction when he does taste you, you were just scared that he'd be disgusted. Plus the post pregnancy hormones are worst as they make you emotional over the silliest things.
"Please, baby? Just this one time. I'll be a good boy I promise." You hate when he addresses himself as if he's an angel. He is a mischievous devil inside. But rather than having him pester you for the rest of the night and ruin your hard earned sleep (since your baby's cries always wakes you up) You thought maybe let him and just get it over with...
"mmph ffhuck." His moans vibrated through your skin, "mhmm god ywo twaste shwo good." The moment he said that, all the insecurity left your body, and heat forming between your legs.
"Ngh—toru..." you felt so embarrassed—so dirty when his eyes locked with you. Your lashes fluttered and you looked away but you swore you could feel him smiling on your nipples. Your husband really digs out the emotions you never thought existed within you.
He was pressing them together, playing like he had just found a new toy. You had never seen so much amusement in those blue eyes as much as of now. Bright pink tongue lolling out to taste the squirting liquid when he squeezed both your breasts together.
"Feels good, right baby? ah!" *slurp* He wiped the dripping milk at the end of his lips with his tongue, and you couldn't process. You felt so wet. And he knew you very well. After all, you've been together for so many years.
"Lay down baby. I'll fuck you while I drink you." You never thought you'd ever hear that sentence but there it was.
𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈
— toji has always been an experienced man. he has definitely tried a lot of things. but there's always areas to expand knowledge and new things to learn. he wouldn't do anything that makes you uncomfortable but he knew the person he was marrying wasn't ordinary. you, deep down, were just very dirty like him.
You had your legs stretched on the sofa, upper body resting on your husband's lap. Since you guys had a baby, it was very rare for you rest. Being a parent is the best thing in the world but it also feels worse than a 9to5 sometimes. Today was a good day though. Your boy was sleeping soundly and you had some quality time to spend with each other. Well, it's hard to go on a date at this time, but you both were just happy to be in each other's presence.
Toji was mindlessly flipping through some channels after he got bored halfway through that one movie he was watching. His emerald eyes fell on your ipad screen where you were scrolling through what seemed like a baby product websites.
"I thought we had bought everything for little gumi." You looked up at him then back to the screen.
"Oh this isn't for gumi bear. This is for me. These are called breast shells."
"What? Show me." He took the ipad from you and carefully observed the product you were supposedly buying. "So what is this a fashion accessory for mommies now?"
"Hehehe," you giggled. "No, baby. My breast oversupplies sometimes and it ruins my dress. They prevent that." You watched him as he sat there in silence, poking his tongue inside his mouth. Within two seconds, he flipped you on the sofa, and gently climbed on you.
"Why are you buying that shitty thing when I am right here?"
"Toji, what do y—OH MY GOD!" he pulled out both your breast pretty quickly, all thanks to your maternity clothes. He knew you won't stop him. He knew you would get wet when he'd do that. And he was right on the money. He started sucking so hard, you felt...foreign. He had sucked them a hundred times before but watching him flick your nipples with his tongue and the milk trailing down, fusing with the tastebuds until it goes transparent and his adam's apple bobs when he gulps it. fuck.
Toji's obvious boner grinds against your heat as he suckled on those pretty tits. The wet patch on your panties were now staining his grey bottoms too.
"Overflowing down there too, mama? Hmph," he chuckled. You were to focused on the feeling of his lips on your nipples that you forgot to see his right hand moving down to cup your heat.
"Ngh—twoji," you mewled.
"Don't worry, baby. I'll take care of you." Thick fingers circled your wet clit, "Ya don't need those shells or whateva when i am right here." He is a great husband. He even saved you so much money that you were gonna spend on those silicones.
𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔
—suguru worships you. it isn't obvious but you can feel his devotion towards you. the way his droopy eyes lights up when they fall on you, or his ears turn red when you kiss him. he loves how you take him in, struggling a little at first because he is girthy and a bit long, but when he bottoms out, you finally exhale and relax your walls around him. holy shit. he loves it. but this time, something different struck his curiosity.
"fuck. you sure we can do this baby?" He asked.
"'s okay, sugu. doc said we had to wait like six weeks and it's been three months." You were so busy in your post pregnancy life that you barely got time for just each other. You hadn't even kissed properly in months. "plus," you reached for his cock, "i need you." Those last words came off as a whine. You needed him and who is he to deny you off your pleasure.
You were on top of him as you positioned his boner to your entrance. He watched as your cunt swallowed him. This time, not struggling as much. Thanks to dilation.
"anh! suguuu~ mhmm missed your cock." You moaned so beautifully, he found himself falling in love over and over again. Yet, something was different. Normally, his eyes would focus down on how you well you take him as you ride it, but today he had found something rather more interesting. Your big tits bumped against his face and he couldn't take his eyes of those nipples. Those glistening nipples. He could see droplets of milk settling and honestly, they looked so fucking tempting. He let his intrusive thoughts win as you felt a warm sensation on your boobs.
"haaa—fuck. sugu, mhmm—no, it's gross" He didn't reply. He didn't need to. Pretending he didn't hear that was just right. Why would you even think anything about you is gross. He would kiss the soil you walked on.
"so fucking sweet. my sweet girl." *sucksucksuck* "these are f'me too, right? these were made f'me. hmm...sweet *suck* fucking *suck* girl.
congratulations. you just unlocked his new kink.
𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎
—nanami is a gentke lover. we all know that. he is only mean in bed if you ask him too. that alone needs a lot of convincing because he is scared of hurting you. he is not too kinky but you can't say he's completely vanilla. he enjoys wrapping a tie around wrist as be eats you out. he also found himself getting hard when you called him "daddy." So yeah, he is a little kinky. But not in a million years Nanami Kento would've thought he would get hard watching you wipe the excess milk off your breasts.
"So i just put her down to sleep," you walked out of the baby room, with your left tit out, wiping it with a napkin. "What do you want for lunch—Kento?" He immediately broke the staring contest he was having with your boobs and looked at you.
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"Is everything alright? Is there something on my breasts?"
"Yes—I mean no. of course not." It was rare to hear panic in his voice which only made you mroe curious. You walked closer to him, hsi breath heavier than usual.
"What's wrong, Ken? Talk to me." shit shit shit. you were too close. he could feel your wet boobs rubbing against his cyan blue shirt. If you got any closer, you would loathe him for having a boner for such thing. He was ashamed of himself.
"Why are you looking away, baby? Do you not like me anymore?" Fuck. You're so stupid. Not like you? That man is in love with you so much. He cannot contain himself. You tried to get closer but he tripped on the foot of the couch and felk on it upright, and you on top of him.
oh.
OH.
You could feel it between your legs. You didn't even kiss him and it's not like you were seducing him earlier so you connected the dots pretty quickly on why he was hard.
"hmm hmm" you giggled. "is this what makes you hard you, ken? my lactating tits?"
"don't say it out loud, please." it was so fun seeing him all flustered. you adjusted yourself on top him as you thought of something very dirty.
"wanna taste? i know you're curious." he hesitated a bit, but a man like him can only go so high with his walls before he breaks them and let's his wife take control.
He started off with a few licks, testing his feet into the water. It was sweet with a hint of tanginess. The moment he felt it squirting a lot when he sucked, he fell in love. He acted like a kid who had just discovered magic. You chuckled between your heavy moans as you witnessed him trying to fit in your tits in his mouth as much as he can. You start grinding on him and it only makes him more desperate. He taps your thighs, a cue to pull your dress up and throw it in the floor. You watch as he hungrily latches his lips on your nipples quickly again. Your dress was not even off your arms yet. Nanami had discovered his obsession when he watched you squeeze you tits to squirt your milk on him.
𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀
—sukuna didn't even think it was possible for him to have a child as him being a curse and you being a human but here you were. he was in love with you. maybe his expression for love was different than others, but you felt it. be wasn't an embodiment of rage, but rather an overflowing confidence in his skills. That's where the cockiness came from. Existing for over a 1000 years, he thought he had experienced everything. Well...he was wrong.
"So...you just out this device on your chest and it gathers your milk?"
"Yes. It's called a "breast pump" and not a device," his vocabulary according to the new era was still weak but he was working on it.
When you detached the the vaccum of the breast pump from your boobs, Sukuna's eyes were fixated on them. He loved your tits. He had his fair share of biting and sucking on them till they were sore, but today they looked so plumped and so...succulent??
"What are you staring at? You want to drink it too or what?" You joked as you closed the lid of the bottle.
"Yes." You stared at him. Two minutes of complete shock snd silence.
"What?"
"What? You said if I want to drink it, and I answered."
"Yeah but—"
"Be a good wife, my little human. Good wives obey their husband's wishes." (Please let the feminist in you shut up for a sec and enjoy cuz i know he'd say smtg like this)
"Kuna...I don't know. It's nasty, y'know?"
"I think you're forgetting that I am a monster, baby. I ate you out during your those days of the month. This is less dirty." He yaps a lot someone shit him up before I die from embarrassment.
Sukuna laid you on the bed gently after getting you undressed. For the first time in so.many years, you were feeling shy again in front of him. It was quite an amusing sight to enjoy for him. He summoned a mouth on both his palm and licked your nipples. He wasn't sucking yet, but the hint of sweetness still laced his tastebuds.
"I am going to squeeze your breasts in my mouth now, okay?" Why did he feel the need to announce it? Weren't you already so flustered?
The tongues on his palm licked the skin of your tits before squeezing it when his mouth crashed against your nipples, spraying the milk. Sukuna sometimes forget you're a human. You're delicate unlike. The strong force of the suction made you whine and moan so loudly, it vibrated through the walls of the bedroom.
"mhmm I did not know my beloved wife enjoyed such depraved acts," he smirked when his thighs brushed against your bare pussy. you were dripping wet.
"Don't worry, little one. Let me please you. Hope you have pumped out enough in that bottle of yours. Because, I am going to milk you dry today."
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#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#gojo x reader#toji x reader#geto x reader#jujutsu kaisen#nanami x reader#sukuna x reader#gojo smut#geto smut#toji smut#sukuna smut#nanami smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo satoru x reader#fushiguro toji x reader#geto suguru x reader#nanami kento x reader#tw.lactation#tw.pregnancy
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Breeding Habits of the Common Mothman
Kinktober Day 4: Oviposition
Mothman Yandere x Gender Neutral Reader
CW: Noncon, oviposition, stalking, kidnapping, non-human genitals, general yandere behavior, sweet delusional yandere
Word Count: 526
(This wasn't beta read and I kinda rushed, sorry for any mistakes and hope you enjoy it!)
On your back with your legs resting on his fuzzy shoulders. Large red eyes staring hungrily into your fearful ones. Pleasure started to overtake the initial panic as his cock plowed you with lewd squelching noises for the whole forest to hear.
How did you find yourself in this situation?
You were a park ranger. Your duties centered around keeping the forest safe. Mostly, this meant picking up litter, monitoring wildlife, preventing poaching, and a lot of keeping drunk fools from hurting themselves or lighting the forest ablaze.
It also meant being spied on by the mothmen. One in particular became fascinated with you, their leader.
He found himself spending most of his days watching you care for the forest, tending to it so diligently, defending it, and the creatures it housed. Fascination turned into obsession. You felt like something was watching you but dismissed it. There were plenty of animals in the woods.
The mothman began fantasizing more and more about you having a belly fully of his eggs. He could no longer control himself. His dreams had to be a reality!
He was positive you would respond positively to him. Who would not want to have a nice big mate to protect them? He could help you protect the forest so you would have time to rest and breed lots and lots!
And that's how you ended up whisked away, taken into the pocket dimension of the mothmen.
You kicked and screamed, but he didn't let go. He trilled and cooed to calm you as best he could. His poor mate was scared.
He sat you down in his hovel, a hut made of silk, moss, mud, and branches. You were still scared, so he showed you his huge cock. He was very proud of it. Surely, seeing his wonderfully large mating tool would show that he was not a threat and merely intended to breed with you! What mate wouldn't be excited to have such a nice cock inside of them?
It seemed to just frighten you more, though. Did you not know what it was for? He supposed it looked different from a human's. Much larger, slimy, tapered, and normally sheathed. Or maybe you had never mated before and were nervous.
Either way, it was okay. He would show his darling human what it was for. You tried resisting him, your hands pressing against the soft, thick fur covering his hard abs.
The mothman definitely showed you what it was for.
He cooed and trilled and hummed, praising you for taking his cock so well. Your toes curled, and eyes rolled back into your head as he slowly bred you over and over and over. Each of his orgasms deposited more and more of his eggs deeply into you.
You were such a perfect incubator! A nice, warm place for his eggs to hatch. With your caring and protective nature regarding nature, he was sure you would make an amazing parent.
You seemed to enjoy his cock so much he let you fall asleep while warming it for him. He nuzzled, cuddled, and willed you to have sweet dreams as you rested.
#yandere teratophilia#yandere terato#yandere x reader#monster boyfriend#gender neutral reader#yandere monster#yandere boyfriend#male yandere x gn reader#male yandere#yandere mothman#yandere exophilia#kinktober 2024#kinktober
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EVERYTHING BUT NOTHING
PAIRING football captain bf jake x fem reader
WARNINGS swearing, arguments, jake makes a singular joke about killing himself
GENRE angst
SYNOPSIS jake is just the nicest guy, everyone knows that. and he’s even sweeter as a boyfriend rather than an acquaintance. even after an argument, you could never stay mad at him for long. but you question that when you hear him talking about you after school.
read part 2 here ?
“are you gonna talk to jake? i know that argument was pretty intense, but you’ve gone a week with no contact.” yuna asked as she tilted her head, standing by your locker while she waited for you to grab your belongings.
“eventually, yeah. i was thinking today after school. the thing with jake though, he either shuts down, or acts like it never happened whenever i want to talk about an argument.” you sighed.
it’s true. as open as jake may appear to be, it’s all but factual. you could never have a real talk with your boyfriend, because he hated confrontation. avoided it entirely.
typically, you don’t let arguments get in the way of your relationship. especially since living together is hard if you’re having frequent conflicts. it wasn’t too much of a problem now though, since he’s been staying at jay’s. but when you brought up the fact that he’s been spending too much time at practice, and that he always forgets your dates, jake let it all out.
it shouldn’t have been as big of a problem as it was. you just wanted to talk. but he finally argued back.
“i get it. sohee is exactly the same! don’t stress though. i know jake is a good guy, he’ll come around.” she smiled. “now let’s go to class? passing period is almost over, and yizhuo has been saving our seats.”
the lecture seemed to go by faster than usual. you were nervous as you steadily approached jake’s locker, which was directly outside his last class.
but when you heard his oh too familiar voice, you stopped in your tracks. you felt your heart sink to the floor as your stomach dropped.
“god. guys, don’t ever get a girlfriend. i’m bounded to long walks on the beach and dinner dates till i die. y/n’s demanding too much of me. i might just kill myself one day.” jake sighed.
“okay but dude, your girlfriends cool and all yet she’s lowkey uptight.” you heard heeseung say as he slapped jake’s shoulder.
“yeah man, you’ve been missing too much practice for your dates now. coach is getting upset. i saw yours and y/n’s texts the other day, and she micromanages you a lot. blink twice if you need help.” sunghoon joked as the three of them laughed out loud.
“i know, i know. i love y/n, but i cannot with her lately. thank god jay let me crash at his after the argument, because i couldn’t live with her constant nagging. she’s so fucking annoying.” he snickered. but, all their faces fell once they saw you.
you slammed jake’s locker door shut with so much force, your hand turned bright red. him and sunghoon flinched harshly, while heeseung and jay had no reaction.
your face ran hot, you felt it as you tightly closed your eyes, holding back the urge to burst out crying. the glass tears threatened to roll down your cheeks.
but one look at his desperate eyes filled with regret, and you tipped over the edge. your salty tears spilled out, past your lashes.
you sniffled as you continued to cry uncontrollably, staring at their flustered faces. jake reached out to wipe your face, but you pushed his hand away, wiping the tears yourself.
“you fucking asshole.” you whispered. “i came here to apologize. but you can’t leave it be.”
“y/n..” his eyes softened, voice faltering as his words were laced with regret and shame. he reached out for you once more, but you stepped back.
the distance between you two physically and emotionally only continued to grow. “baby, just let me talk. like you wanted.” he pleaded, begging, almost.
“i.. hate you.. how could you ever talk about me like that? i never once would even think about saying something like that about you, like you did me.” you scoffed, looking behind him as you finally realized his friends left the scene.
you watched as his eyes watered, with one last attempt of trying to reach you. but he knew you were untouchable in this moment.
“sweetheart?” he watched as you began to walk backwards, away from him.
but you didn’t let up, still hurt. you shook your head, silently telling him no.
with every step you took backwards, jake moved forward, before finally grabbing your wrists tightly so you can’t leave him.
“it costs nothing to be a sweet guy, like the version everyone sees of you. but it takes everything to be an asshole.” you mumble, before pushing him away, finally and surely leaving out the school’s glass doors.
and jake remained there, his regret suddenly transferred into anger. he kicked his locker, watching the metal rattle.
he hated how his such childish and immature words cost nothing yet everything.
“fuck..” he muttered.
“fuck!” jake said once more, but louder, yelling it out loud.
he watched out the window as you walked towards the parking lot, before getting into your car and leaving without a second thought.
“please don’t leave me.” he whispered as his vision turned blurry.
“please don’t leave me..”
#enhypen x reader#enhypen#enhypen imagines#enhypen smau#enhypen scenarios#jake x reader#jake sim#jake sim x reader#sim jaeyun x reader#serena writes ! jake
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Hi☺️ I really like your headcanons, and was interested if you would like to write a one where LADS boys hurt the reader with their Evol (not on purpose, accidentally).
Maybe it could be angst a bit? If you okay with it ( ・_・)♡
ngl i lowkey still dont understand how xavs evol works so his is ia little funny rather than angst bc he teleported funny :(
Zayne didn't realise that his Evol had been acting up so badly. He could feel the chill of it crawling up his body but he had no idea he struck you until he hears your gasp from the door of his office. His eyes are wide as he ignores the ice in his veins.
You try to tell him not to worry, that he needs to focus on himself because clearly his Evol is acting up again but he can't be bothered right now. He's immediately looking over the injury, making sure that it's just superficial. If he actually hurt you he'd never forgive himself. You have to convince him that everything is okay, take his hands into your face and slow him down just a bit until he can see you again.
He buries his face into your neck, holding you tightly as he promises he'll never do it again. You have to tell him over and over again that you know it was an accident. It doesn't matter though - he'll never forgive himself. He's always extra careful with his Evol around you from now on, terrified he'll hurt you again.
He wasn't paying attention when he teleported in, almost knocking you over because you didn't expect to see him there. You laugh, the pain being pretty minimal so it was fine but he is not happy about it to say the least. He's not mad at you at all - he's very upset with himself for not being more careful with you.
He keeps his eye on you for the next little while, worried that he actually did hurt you but you're just worried of hurting his feelings so you won't actually tell him what's wrong. He tries to subtly check your body, making sure there really aren't any bruises on you.
Now whenever he teleports somewhere you are he makes it a point to text or call you ahead of time to make sure you aren't where he plans to be. If you don't answer then he'll just teleport somewhere he knows you aren't to make sure he doesn't hurt you.
Rafayel didn't see you come in when he started using his Evol for a painting. He just wanted to give it a bit of a burned affect, flames encompassing his studio just long enough for you to sustain a burn. It's not bad thankfully, nothing you couldn't handle but Rafayel is devasted you're hurt in the first place.
He's on you in an instant, used to getting burns himself from when he's overzealous with his fire Evol. He's got tons of salves and gauze for you as he carefully takes care of your burn. He wants to take you to see a doctor but you convince him not to - the burn is already feeling a lot better but he doesn't seem convinced.
He beats himself up for what feels like forever, fully blaming himself for your injury. He knows that if he was more careful with his flames he wouldn't have hurt you and there's no talking him out of it. You can only try to comfort him, spending time with him and trying your best to reassure him.
Sylus didn't think that you were going to barge into his meeting, having something important to tell him as he pulled his hand back. He ends up accidentally grabbing you, squeezing a touch too tight before you're let go. An angry looking welt is left on your skin and Sylus is immediately by you, inspecting it as he apologises.
You can't hear the panic in his voice but you can see it in his eyes, the way his hands quickly move over your body as he tries to figure out if he broke anything. Thankfully he didn't and you're just sore. The second you tell him that he finds you an ointment and starts massaging the muscle. He doesn't say much other than the apologies at the start but it's because he's fully focused on making sure you're okay. It would be adorable if you weren't worried about how concerned he is.
He doesn't say much for a while, mad at himself for not noticing you coming into the room. You have to fill the silence, trying your best to soothe him. It'll really take a long time for him to stop treating you like glass.
#love and deepspace x reader#l&ds x reader#zayne x reader#xavier x reader#rafayel x reader#sylus x reader#l&ds zayne x reader#l&ds xavier#l&ds rafayel x reader#l&ds sylus x reader#lads zayne x reader#lads xavier x reader#lads rafayel x reader#lads sylus x reader#lnds zayne x reader#lnds xavier x reader#lnds rafayel x reader#lnds sylus x reader
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18+ Ft Bucky's dirty little mouth because he needs to be held when he cums. You have to hold that baby so so tight. While he whines and moans and throbs till his balls are empty and it takes forever and he's so sensitive the entire time. I cannot get this absolutely unhinged, feral, filthy thought out of my head. He's so fucking touch starved, he needs to be wrapped up with your thighs hugging his waist, feeling your heels push against his ass, your arms around his shoulders and fingers grazing his scalp.
Bucky who can't help but bite onto you shoulder because he's embarrassed with how needy he sounds, muffling his voice, his feet squirming against the sheets, muscles tensed, cock swollen and thick, that pink tip shoved in as far as it would go. It doesn't matter how dominant he is; as soon as he's close he melts into a needy little mess and he can't even help it.
The first time he was with you caught him so off guard, he didn't have a single semblance of control. He fucked you so hard your eyes nearly crossed and the curly hair at the base of his cock was creamy with your slick. You clawed at his back and the sting made him growl with pleasure, his heavy balls growing tighter.
Intense pleasure starts to creep between his thighs, down his spine, warmth blooming making his skin feel hot. His pace starts to grow sloppy and those deep groans start turn into whines.
"You okay baby?" You coo sensing his tensed body and rapid breaths.
"You feel so good" He whispers, moving his arms to wrap around your body, now clinging onto you while his hips rut into your pussy, "So good around my cock, so-fuck-m'so hard"
"Shit-my cock's so wet-s'fucking swollen-there's so much cum, I can feel it" He buries his face into the crook of your neck feeling his cock swell more with each thrust, precum making a sticky, slippery mess between your legs. He holds you tighter and you can feel his ass flex with each push of his hips. He's not longer just moaning, he's whimpering and whining nipping and sucking at your neck like a needy baby.
"It's okay Bucky, you can stop if its too much-" You start but he shakes his head as soon as the words come out- there's no way you're gonna take this away from him when it feels this fucking good.
"No-no-don't wanna, feels good-fuck why does it feel so good, what are you doing to me" He's so gone, giving into the pleasure that's nearly choking his dick, now letting his hips snap against your sopping cunt, squelching and squirting all over the sheets. "Touch me y/n, please baby, need-need to feel you all over, it's-fuck its- too much, touch me"
You sooth his needy pleas, holding him tightly, letting your whole body wrap around him to ground him, your arms and legs squeezing him close. It's exactly what he needs as he hugs you tighter, no longer feeling so out of control and untethered. He can feel your whole body, your warmth and he's so safe. He's almost scared to cum, to feel something so intense, to be so vulnerable but then you kiss his temple and pet his hair and before he can think twice-
"Oh my God-fuck-I-I think I'm gonna-mphh-fuck y/n, m'cumming!" His body stills as cum bursts from his cock in thick ropes, your eyes rolling back feeling his warm spend fill you up.
"You're cumming so much baby" You coo, feeling every ridge, vein and throb of his cock, his back muscles still pulled taut when more waves of pleasure wash over him, continuing to cum.
"I can't stop, fuck-baby it won't stop" He shakes his head, still hiding against your neck, pulling his hips back to slam them inside you hoping he can empty himself but it's so hard when he seems to have an endless supply. He doesn't even know how his body can produce so much. "My balls feel too heavy, God it's so sensitive, its fuckin' squirting out of you"
He slams into you a few times for emphasis, the sheets messy and wet.
"Don't let go, wanna feel you, don' let go"
"M'not gonna let go bubba, cum for me, m'right here" You continue to hold him for minutes on end while his orgasm starts to slow down leaving him drained and exhausted. He falls right asleep, still hiding into your neck long after. He can't help it; the intense feeling makes him feel so shy and overwhelmed, he just wants to crawl into you where he's safest in his most vulnerable state.
After that night, its an unwritten rule that it's what he needs.
Even when it's a quickie. Like when you stroke him in the back of a club in a secluded booth at the club. On a free night out. He could only take so much of your dancing, grinding your ass on him. He yanked you over to a dark corner, sitting all the way in the back, where it just looks like you're seated in his lap. But he has his cock out, letting you pump your hand up and down his length and you can tell he's close by the way his chest rises and falls. He grabs your waist while your free arm wraps around his shoulder as you stroke faster.
It doesn't take long for him to bite his lips, covering your hand in his warm spend and to the rest of the world, you just look like your cozily cuddling up with your boyfriend. No one can see the debauched mess he's making, no one can hear the way he struggles to stop moaning, itching to busy his face into your chest; he'd give anything to latch onto your nipples if you'd let him.
Anyway. You can go about your day now.
#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky x y/n#bucky x reader#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#marvel smut#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x reader fluff#bucky barnes x reader smut#bucky x you#bucky x smut#bucky barnes x fluff#bucky barnes x fanfic#bucky barnes x freader#bucky x female reader#bucky x f!reader#bucky x freader#bucky fanfic#bucky fan fiction#bucky fan fic#bucky fandom#bucky barnes fan fiction#bucky barnes fan fic#bucky barnes fanfic#marvel fanfics
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THINK AABOUT THIS
horny bsfheeseung who can't control himself when he's with you and eventually ends up fucking you on a rainy night
i'm thinking about it yes, because imagine HORNY BSF!HEESEUNG who was only supposed to come spend the afternoon at your place and watch a film with you. it was a cold day, so you were wearing a hoodie three times too big for you, some shorts and your warmest socks. you had already set up the couch - cozy blankets prepared for you, snacks and drinks scattered all over your table. and you were just so excited about finally spending time with him that heeseung felt really guilty about the way he couldn't help feeling hot under the collar when you hugged him and dragged him to the couch, snuggling up against him because you were freezing.
you put on the film, but heeseung cannot focus on it at all. everytime he tries to look at the tv screen, his eyes are drawn back to you - to your pretty face, pretty eyes, and pretty lips that he's dying to kiss. he's not usually this bothered around you, he has self-control, but there's just something about you today and the way your scent intoxicates him more than usual that makes him hard in his sweatpants. but it's okay, heeseung thinks, he just has to go through the movie without being suspicious and then he can go home.
wrong. not even halfway through the film, rain starts pouring outside. and it doesn't seem to stop. its raining so much that when the movie ends, you decide that it's too dangerous for heeseung to take his car to go home now. "but it's okay, you sleep here." and heeseung wants to say no, because he knows that if he stays in your presence one more minute, he's going to lose control. but you're actually right, he cannot drive in this weather.
so heeseung tries to not look at your ass too much as you bend down to get him another pillow so he can sleep on your couch comfortably. and he tries to not get distracted by the way he can still see the outline of your boobs, even under your oversized sweater. it's hard - and he's very hard by now - but he really tries. he's aware you're just being sweet, he's aware that you're not feeling the same as him, he's aware that he's being pathetic, but just cannot stop himself when you bend down again in your tight shorts to pick up a pack of gummies that fell to the floor.
"fuck, y/n, can you stop doing this ?" you turn around, the bag of candies in your hands and a clueless look on your face as you plant your innocent gaze into heeseung's lustful one. "stop doing what hee ?" - "bending over like this, showing me your pretty ass. that is if you don't want me to fuck you, baby." he eats up the way your cheeks immediately grow red, mouth opening and closing without knowing what to say anymore. the smirk on his face widens as he gets closer and you don't back out, dropping back the sweets once he wraps his arms around your waist. "so, what do you say ?" his lips are brushing against yours with how close he is, but you don't mind it, you just him to kiss you now. "yes, please."
heeseung doesn't waste any more time talking before he grabs you by your neck to pull in a kiss that leaves dazed, your mind blank, breath short from how good his tongue alone makes you feel. he chuckles when you chase his lips, fists closing around the fabric of his tee. "you want more ?" - "heeseung, please, don't tease me… i've waited for this long enough." the realization that you had been wanting just as bad is what sends heeseung far away, too far away to have control over himself anymore. "shit, i'm sorry princess, i'm gonna make it up, yeah ?" you nod and the next thing you know is that heeseung has you bend over for him on the couch, your shorts and underwear pulled down just enough so that he can push his cock inside of you.
"feeling so good baby, knew you would, i knew you would be perfect for me." you only moan louder at his words, trying to keep a bit of sanity as heeseung pounds into you like an animal. but in the end you don't mind the way his hand presses against your lower back, under your hoodie that he didn't take the time to throw away, forcing your back to arch even more, his cock hitting even deeper into you. "hee ! i'm close, i'm close please…" - "gonna make you cum all over my dick and then fill you up. everybody's gonna know you're mine this way."
and you don't deny, because in the end that's what you want. as you come down from your high, slowly opening your eyes that fall on the raindrops hitting your windows, you wonder if he really means it. "shit… you're still so tight baby, makes me want to fuck you again." you only whine at his words, letting him grab your hair and yank your head back. and you don't dare ask him what's gonna happen after, you just want to enjoy the way he's making you feel a little longer.
#i don't why but i needed to add some angst in the mix sorry for that#eli answering your questions#eli's anonie#enhypen smut#enhypen hard hours#enhypen hard thoughts#enhypen x reader#enha x reader#enha smut#enha hard hours#enha hard thoughts#lee heeseung#heeseung smut#heeseung x reader#heeseung hard hours#heeseung hard thoughts
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